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donovanlizzie · 2 months

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Hidden affections - Joe Liebgott

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The tension between Joe Liebgott and Y/N during basic training was palpable, their constant bickering earning them a reputation as the pair who couldn't stand each other. Yet, hidden beneath the surface, there was a strange connection that bound them together.

One evening at the bar, the air was thick with the familiar scent of cigarette smoke and the low hum of conversations.

She found herself watching Him from across the room, despite the tension that existed between them. His animated conversations with friends drew her attention, inadvertently coaxing a smile from her.

As she observed, George Luz snuck up behind her, curiosity etched on his face. "Who are you smiling at?" he asked, a playful tone in his voice.

However, his smile quickly faded and his expression shifted from playful to concerned as he followed her gaze to Joe Liebgott.

"Really? " George scoffed, looking at her like a disappointed parent "Liebgott?, after the way he acts around you?"

"It's complicated Luz" she replied, taking another sip of her beer.

Luz raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Complicated? That's one way to describe it. I mean, he acts like he can't stand you half the time."

She sighed, her gaze lingering on Joe as he laughed at something Talbert had said. "Yeah, well, maybe it's his way of dealing with things. Doesn't mean there's not something else there."

George smirked, leaning against the bar. "You're telling me there's something more to Liebgott than meets the eye? Colour me intrigued."

Chuckling she shook her head. "You wouldn't understand, Luz. It's like we're constantly at odds, but when it comes down to it, he's got my back. And I've got his."

George gave her a skeptical look. "Got his back? More like got each other's throats."

"Trust me, Luz, i know there's a lot more to Joe Liebgott than what he shows. " she replied cryptically, swirling her beer in her glass.

George sighed, "Well, just be careful. Liebgott's a complicated guy, and complicated usually means trouble."

She nodded in acknowledgment, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "I can handle a little trouble."

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

Liebgott sat at a nearby table, the conversation he was engrossed in had become irrelevant as his ear pricked up at the mention of Y/N's name from the table behind him , overhearing Roy Cobb, a fellow paratrooper, running his mouth about her to a group of new replacements.

"Y/n? Oh, you mean Easy Company's little sweetheart," Cobb remarked with a mocking tone, eliciting a few chuckles from the newcomers. "she's just a liability. She should've never shown her face in easy company! My bet is she's been playing the commander, putting on a show of competence that's going to get someone killed. Sobel should've gotten rid of her a long time ago."

Anger flared in Joe's eyes as he clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as Cobb continued to tarnish her name.

"And have you seen her? No wonder she hasn't found a man yet. Who would want to be with someone like her? It's not surprising she's still single; she's probably too busy ruining missions to care about settling down."

Unable to contain himself any longer, Joe jumped up from his table and approached Cobb's group with a scowl on his face.

"What the fuck did you just say about her?" Joe sneered at Cobb, who tried to laugh it off and reason with him. "Come on, Joe, you know what she's like – my bet is she's had half the company now-"

Before Cobb could finish his sentence, Joe's fist connected with his face, sending him sprawling to the floor. The commotion drew the attention of the entire bar, and the rest of Easy Company rushed to stop the impending fight.

She and Luz watched, exchanging puzzled glances. "What was that about?" She asked, concern furrowing her brow.

George shook his head. "I don't know, but Liebgott looks pissed."

As the men of Easy Company pulled Joe away from the scene, Cobb nursed his bleeding nose and shot a glare in her direction. She met his gaze with a cold intensity, her eyes daring him to say another word.

Joe, still seething, was restrained by his comrades. "You talk about her again, and I'll do more than just break your nose," he spat at Cobb, the words laced with a dangerous edge.

The bar returned to its uneasy quiet, the rumours quashed by the unexpected confrontation. Joe may have acted on impulse, but his protective instinct for her had been laid bare for everyone to see.

She watched as Joe stormed out of the bar in a huff, cursing under his breath. She placed her empty pint glass on the table in front of her and felt a sense of urgency to follow him. "Hey, where are you going?" George called out, walking back to the bar - no doubt to get another drink.

"Don't worry about it," she mumbled back, not wanting to explain as she made a beeline for the door Joe had just stormed out of. Once outside, the cold air hit her like a thousand tiny needles, causing her to shiver. Walking a few steps away from the door, she scanned the darkening area, the sun just starting to set, painting the sky with an orangey-red hue.

Her eyes fell upon Joe, leaning against one of the nearer barracks, smoking a cigarette. She took a deep breath and began walking towards him, the stones crunching under her shoes catching Joe's attention almost immediately , his jaw tightening in response.

"What are you doing out here?" Joe asked, stubbing out his cigarette. Ignoring Joe's question, She confronted him,

"What the hell was that back there?"

"Never you mind," Joe replied dismissively.

"Joseph Liebgott, I will mind. You punched a fellow paratrooper in the face!" Her tone carried a mix of disbelief and frustration, feeling as if she was scolding a schoolboy.

"Cobb said some shit that wasn't true, and I hit him – no big deal," Joe responded, trying to downplay the situation.

"What did he say, Joe?" She pressed, her voice rising a little.

"Damn it, Y/n, what is this, 21 questions?"

"Liebgott, tell me what he said!" She insisted, her frustration evident.

Joe sighed pushing off the barracks wall and walked over to her, the distance between them closing until they were almost nose to nose , his breath fanning her face, the smell of the recent cigarette lingering in the air.

Joe's gaze softened, and he let out a heavy sigh. "Look, I might not always show it, but I don't like hearing lies about people I... care about," he admitted gruffly, avoiding direct eye contact.

Her expression softened in return. "Care about? Liebgott, you're not known for being the sentimental type. Why would you care about what Cobb says about me?"

Joe hesitated for a moment, his jaw clenching. "I hate to admit it, but... I don't like the idea of anyone talking crap about you. Especially when it's a load of bullshit."

Her eyes widened, surprised by his admission. "Joe Liebgott, did you just say something vaguely nice about me?"

He scoffed, trying to deflect. "Don't get used to it. I just... I don't know, I just don't like people thinking less of you because of some idiot's lies."

A small smile played on her lips. "Well, I appreciate that, Joe. It's strange, you know? Despite all the bickering, I never thought you'd... care."

Joe mumbled something incoherent, avoiding her gaze. The tension between them lingered, the unspoken words hanging in the cold air. , Feeling a mix of emotions, She took a step closer to Joe.

"I don't hate you, Y/n. I might not show it, but I..." Joe's gruff words trailed off, and before he could finish, She closed the remaining distance between them, pressing her lips against his. It was a moment of unexpected intimacy, fuelled by the unspoken emotions they both struggled to express.

Breaking the kiss, Joe sighed, his forehead resting against hers. "I hate to admit it, but I... I like you, a lot."

She looked at him, a mix of surprise and a small smile playing on her lips. "Well, that's something," she said, a teasing glint in her eyes.

Joe rolled his eyes but couldn't hide a smirk. "Yeah, yeah, don't get used to it."

As they stood there, the realisation of the unexpected turn of events settled in. The tension that once hung between them had transformed into something different – something neither of them had anticipated.

#hbo war #band of brothers imagines #joe liebgott #joseph liebgott #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers oc #band of brothers

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indigo-graves · 4 months

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This Dance | Joe Liebgott

It wasn’t often that the bulk of Easy Company had privileges on a weekend. Evelyn convinced herself it was absolutely because she had threatened all of the men within an inch of their life. If she had to spend one more weekend at camp, she would surely short circuit. So when they made it through the end of training on Friday, she was able to let out what felt like a breath she had been holding all week.

When she exited her separate living quarters, several of the company’s other members were waiting for her. Talbert let out a whistle, earning himself a smack in the back of the head from Toye. Evelyn rolled her eyes in response, giving Toye a smile of approval.

“Ready, darlin’?” Bull Randleman, her dearest friend, questioned. She nodded. Briefly, her eyes locked with Liebgott, who was biting back a smirk, quickly distracting himself with the cigarette he could put between his lips.

“Ready,” she said, smoothing her skirt decisively and turning on her heel. She had hoped they would mistake the blush rising in her cheeks as rouge.

Three drinks in, the blush in her cheeks was permanent. The bar they had found themselves comfortable in was hot. The Georgia heat mingled with the warmth of too many bodies in a small venue. The wafting clouds of smoke from cigarettes only thickened the air. She was thankful to sit lower than the rest of them in her seat due to her petite stature, most of it traveled over her head.

“Fifty bucks says I get the first Kraut kill when we hit Europe,” Guarnere spoke confidently. His accent only seemed to get thicker with each beer he downed.

“Bullshit,” Toye challenged, slammed a hand down on the table, causing all of their drinks to rattle. Chuckles echoed in response.

“Yeah?” Guarnere grinned, “you gonna get to ‘em before me?”

“There’s not a doubt,” Toye lit a cigarette casually. “One gust of wind and your ass will end up in the middle of the Atlantic while I’m on Hitler’s doorstep.” He jabbed at the smaller man. The table roared with laughter and Guarnere chuckled through gritted teeth.

“I’ll take both your money and take your broads out to dinner with it,” Luz spoke confidently, throwing his hat in the ring.

“Whatdya say we get a dance in while these boys get out their measuring tape?” Bull nudged Evelyn with a smile. She chuckled, threw back the rest of her drink, and got to her feet.

As the next song started to play on the jukebox, the two of them found space in the section of the room that was being used by a few other soldiers and their female partners. She felt Bull pull her close, surprised that he was so keen on dancing.

When Liebgott surveyed the room, he felt a drop in his guts. Through the haze of cigarette smoke and crowd of patrons, he watched as Evelyn moved gracefully in the arms of Bull Randleman. He watched Bull’s hand, splayed at the small of her back, and remembered what it felt like the first time she let him touch her. He thought about the way her breath tickled his ear and neck when he held her that close. The things she had told him. Even more, the noises he had drawn out of her when they were flush against one another in that same way.

He watched her rhythm, knowing it so intimately himself. The way he held those same hips as he guided her into that same rhythm in their most passionate moments. He thought about what it sounded like when she stifled herself, bit at her lips, his shoulder, the pillow, in attempts to keep their dance so secret. And here, he had to sit back and watch as she so publicly danced with someone else.

“Liebgott,” there was an elbow in his lower ribs.

He turned to Talbert, realizing the cigarette in his hand had burned down to a nub in neglect. Talbert furrowed a brow but asked now questions. Liebgott got to his feet and excused himself from the table, leaving his fourth beer nearly untouched behind him.

When the song ended, Bull let go of her waist and thanked her for the dance. She scrunched her nose with a smile at him. He tried to escort her back to their table, stating that surely some of their other company members would want a chance to dance with her. She provided him with a kind excuse, letting him know she was going to get some air and she’d be right back. Only twice did she have to argue that she would be just outside the door, where she had seen both Winters and Nixon standing. He agreed, only content when knowing she had chaperones. Rolling her eyes at the endearing concern, she navigated the compact crowd of people toward the door.

Anyone in their sober mind would have clearly observed the level of intent she had seen in Liebgott’s stare for the majority of her dance with Bull. There was an anger that had ignited in her that made it difficult to focus on Bull in those moments. Liebgott had made her a lot of promises, many of them in the throws of passion, that she had not taken with more than a grain of salt. But when she made him promise to keep the extent to which they had become acquainted to himself, she was sure he understood the severity of the matter.

Liebgott stood outside of the bar, his back resting against the building next door at the mouth of an alley. He knew he could only get away with a few minutes away from the company. Someone would come shouting for him before too long.

He was surprised when he saw Evelyn exit the bar with a relieved sigh. She nodded to Winters and Nixon, who were standing just to the right of the entrance, enjoying the much less congested air. They addressed her in kind, Nixon held up a glass toward her with a small smile. A less raw version of himself would not have had the intrusive image of himself taking a set of brass knuckles to Nixon’s straight, white, Yale-boy grin. A better version of himself, maybe.

When Evelyn’s eyes connected with his, her smile fell. The hard line that set along her lips let him know that whatever it was that she was going to share with him, it was not going to provide any solace to his bruised ego.

“You,” she gritted her teeth as she got closer to him. She glanced over her shoulder to assure herself that there were no interested ears. “You have got to get it together, Joe.” Liebgott bit the inside of his cheek at the sound of his name on her lips. He had only heard it when it bubbled up from deep in her chest in her most vulnerable, passionate moments. God damn, she was so fucking beautiful.

“What?” He was genuinely confused. How was it that he was getting in trouble for her dancing with Bull?

“You,” she shoved his shoulder. It was then that he smelled the liquor on her breath. She had been close enough to him that he had also caught the sweetness of her perfume. Something in him ached. “Looking at me like that.”

He chuckled a little at her. How threatening she was, how powerful. But he knew her soft edges. He knew those vulnerable moments. He knew her fear. He had swallowed it whole for her with the slip of her tongue. He knew her.

“Looking at you like what?” He asked. His voice teased her in a way that drew goosebumps to the surface of her skin. He stepped forward, daring her to close the distance between them. Her eyes fluttered in response, her tongue tied. She did not respond. He smiled slyly, not able to help the shift between them. This was his place. Standing before her, teasing her, flustering her. Did Bull fucking Randleman do that?

“Don’t do that to me,” she snapped out of her daze. She steeled herself, squared her shoulders, put a step of distance between their bodies. The haze of the moment passed and she remembered just how public a venue he had started this dance in.

“Do what?” Those coy responses were what got Evelyn into this mess in the first place. He wanted her to get drunk on him. Addicted to him.

“If you get us caught, you know what will happen,” she threatened. Joe nodded in response. There were no playful replies to bite back when the reality of what they had gotten themselves into was brought up. She had told him the conditions of her presence with the company. Should anyone catch wind of anything unsavory, she was done.

She knew he understood how much her career meant to her. She knew he respected it. Respected her. He, however, knew that maybe his deepest fear was that he did not know if he would ever see her again. And that reality was even more frightening than what he had waiting for him on the other side of the ocean.

Joe nodded, clenching his jaw. They stood at the mouth of that alley, wordlessly standing in the mud of their own making. She reached over, the softness of her fingers against his, caused him to jerk his head up in response, looking over her shoulder at the officers just ten feet from them. She boldly stroked the inside of his palm with her delicate fingers. The same way she did when they laid lazily in her bed under the cover of darkness, sweaty, glowing, and drunk on one another.

“Don’t make this end before it has to,” she squeezed his hand. “Please.”

Joe met her eyes. The dimensions of light and dark in them were picked up by the streetlamp. He wanted desperately to wrap his arms around her, tighter than Bull or any man could ever fucking hold her. He wanted to kiss her, taste every unsaid word on her lips. To touch her in ways that would leave her gasping, begging, crying out for more of him. He wanted to tell her that his days started and ended with her. Every single one of them since the moment his mouth tasted hers.

“Evie!” There was a shout from behind them. She pulled away from him with a jolt, her curtain of dark hair whipped around her shoulders.

“You’ve got a line of men in here wondering when they’re getting their dance!” Nixon called, speaking for the masses he was gesturing to inside the building.

“Yes, sir!” She responded, smiling brightly. She turned to Joe briefly. He swallowed the ball of fire making its way up from his belly. ‘Be good,’ she mouthed at him. She turned on her heel, the sweet smell of her perfume wafting behind her as she made her way back to the bar. Joe let out an exasperated sigh and reached into his pocket for a cigarette.

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softguarnere · 8 months

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2 am

Joe Liebgott x reader

A/N: (this is written for the fictional depictions from the show - no disrespect to the real life veterans!) This fic idea has been banging around in my head for a solid year now, but for some reason I'm only just now writing it. Oops. The title comes from "2am" by Foals. Thanks for reading, and I hope that you enjoy! Warnings: alcohol, mentions of the Holocaust, language (one f-bomb and that's it)

For the middle of summer, the night air is cool against your warm cheeks when you stumble out of the hotel lobby, arms slung around the necks of your friends as the three of you lean into each other for support and guidance as you make your way to the curb. The three of you are still laughing at some joke that Luz made back inside when the cab pulls up.

“Here you go.” Careful not to lose his grip on you, Luz opens the back door of the cab and guides you towards the back seat.

You really should be getting back to your hotel, but you don’t want this night to end. And who would, after all the fun you’ve been having with your old friends? It’s nice to see them again, to catch up with them, like you’re finally getting to know them without the constant threat of German artillery fire looming over your heads.

“I’ll take the next one,” you protest.

This makes Babe laugh. “Nope. Drunkest person needs to get home first. We gotta make sure you get in the cab before you pass out.”

You fix your old friend with the best intimidating look that you can manage in your current condition. “You drank way more than me, Heffron.”

Babe chuckles. “But I can actually hold my liquor.”

Well, touché. You can’t argue with that one.

“Can you make it home okay?” Luz asks.

“I’ll be fine,” you promise. After all, you’re not nearly as drunk as they seem to think that you are . . . At least, you don’t think you are.

As if he can see your thought process, Luz laughs. “I’ll swing by tomorrow morning to make sure that you’re still alive.”

Your friends close the door of the cab then. Babe taps the glass of the window twice to signal to the driver that you’re ready to go. On cue, the car pulls forward, slowly pulling out of the hotel’s drive. Only when it nears the exit of the parking lot does your driver finally ask his question.

“Where to?” A voice with a familiar raspy quality wants to know.

The sound is enough to make you freeze, your breath stuck in your throat. Maybe you are drunk. Yes, that must be it – the alcohol making you hear what you want to hear, using some wild manifestation of your subconscious desires. Because you haven’t heard that voice in years. You haven’t seen its owner in just as many. And you certainly didn’t expect to run into him here, of all places.

Your eyes jump to the rear-view mirror. A lump the size of a golf ball appears in your throat. Because even in the faded light of the late summer night, there can be no mistake as to who is staring back at you, waiting expectantly for your answer. Even after all these years, even though you can only see his eyes, you would recognize him anywhere.

“Joe?” Somehow, the words manage to push past the lump in your throat, echoing through the car in the silence that has fallen.

Click-click, click-click. The turn signal methodically keeps time, a metronome as your fellow paratrooper waits for a reply. Though you still haven’t said anything, he takes a right out of the parking lot and eases onto the road.

“Guy behind us was looking impatient,” he says by way of explanation.

It’s Joe Liebgott, you can tell. From the voice, the eyes, the way he tensed when you said his name. Would he have reacted that way if anyone else had said it? Or is it only because of you and the things that happened between the two of you so long ago?

The car is moving and you probably shouldn’t, but you can’t stop yourself from leaning forward, trying to get a better look at him. He’s so close – closer than you ever thought he would be – but he seems unreal and worlds away, like a dream that you can almost, but not quite, reach.

“Is it really you?” You whisper.

Joe sighs, a familiar sound. “Yeah, (Y/N). It’s me.”

“San Fransisco,” you remember aloud, some far away memory of some offhand comment that he once made to someone filtering into your memory. “You always said that you would come back here.”

He only nods. Your heart thuds in your chest. There’s so much to say, to ask, yet it feels like you’re running out of time for it all.

“And now you’re here,” Joe finally says. “With . . . them.”

It takes your brain a second to work out that he means Luz and Babe. Two of the many members of Easy Company who came to the reunion this year. Unlike some people.

“You didn’t come to the reunion.”

“No.” He makes a noise that might be a laugh. “Kind of defeats the purpose when you’re trying to leave the war behind you.”

Leave the war behind you. A slap in the face would have hurt less. Is that why he stopped calling you? Stopped answering your letters? You met during the war, during boot camp, and made it through the whole thing together – from Georgia to the Eagle’s Nest. You had been under the impression that you could make it back to the States . . . Well, at least now you know that Joe had different ideas.

“Then why are you here?” You ask. It’s a fair enough question; Easy Company reunions always generate a lot of attention. Joe happening to be outside of the hotel that was hosting this year’s reunion can’t be a coincidence, can it?

His silence is all the answer that you need.

“You showed up, but you didn’t come inside. Why?” Before he can answer, you add, “And don’t say the thing about leaving it all behind you again. I got that part, okay?”

You can hear Joe’s mouth shut with a click. You hadn’t meant to snap the last part at him. But seeing him here . . . All the anger, the sadness, anything you ever felt about or towards Joe Liebgott that you’ve spent years repressing is now rising to the surface.

“I think you know why,” Joe mutters.

No! You want to snap. No, I don’t understand how you could have left me hanging like that, after all that we went through together, all that we meant to each other.

“I – “ He clears his throat, shakes his head. “I was only hoping to see you. Just . . . I don’t know. I thought that would be enough, if I saw you. I never expected you to get into my cab.”

“And now I’m here.”

“Now you’re here.”

Thankfully the darkness of the night hides your faces from each other. In the solitude it provides, you can feel warmth bubbling and spilling over your eyelids, leaving glossy trails down your cheeks that shimmer gold in the passing streetlights. When it was clear that Joe was done with you, you had decided to leave him and your affections towards him behind. Clearly a part of you never quite let go. That much is clear to you now, as tears escape you without your permission.

Still driving, Joe glances up at the rear-view mirror, catching your eye. Your teary eyes. You can hear the frown in his voice.

“(Y/N)?”

“You left me behind,” you whisper.

For a moment, more silence. Then, “I know. And you know what? It was the stupidest decision that I ever made.”

Yes, it was. For a while, having loved him, having trusted him, felt like the stupidest decision that you ever made. It seems so terribly silly and childish to be sitting behind the man you once loved wholeheartedly – the man who broke your heart – and to wish for nothing more than for the two of you to go back to the way that you once were.

Second times the charm? Or should you follow a policy of “fool me once”?

“I want to go home,” you say. “Can you take me home? Please?”

Joe nods. “Where to?”

You give him the name of the hotel that you’re staying in. The cab fills with the rhythmic click-click, click-click of the blinker as Joe changes lanes, easing the car onto the exit and then navigating onto the quickest route like a master. There are several times when you hear him draw a breath as if to speak, but he never says anything. You keep quiet, allowing him the silence to concentrate on his driving.

Say something! Part of your brain – or is it your heart? – demands. You never expected to see him again, and now the chance is here. The destination is fast approaching, and then what will you do? If only you don’t squander it, this could be your chance to say all the things that have plagued you for years.

The cab slows as Joe sidles up to the hotel. Warm light from the lobby spills out the door and into the back of the cab, beckoning you into its safety. However, something stronger in the front of the cab keeps you firmly in place.

“I can’t sleep alone. Not again.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you’ve even had the chance to register them in your mind.

For the first time since you got into the cab, Joe turns to face you so that you can look at each other head-on. He frowns.

You rush on. “Do you remember Austria? After we liberated that camp, I never thought that I would sleep again. I only got rest because you were willing to flaunt the fraternization policy to come hold me, keep me safe.”

“I remember.”

“I think about that, sometimes,” you admit. You probably shouldn’t have told him that, given him that power over you. But who doesn’t regret the things they say at 2 a.m.?

Joe pushes a sigh, long and hard, through his nose. “Fuck.” He adjusts his position so that he’s leaning further back into the cab, closer to you. Through the darkness, you can see the conflict so clearly on his face, with his wrinkled brow, his frown. It’s so familiar.

“I’m sorry,” Joe says. “I really . . . I was stupid. You deserved better than that. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I thought that I was sparing you.”

“From what?”

“All my pain. My anger.”

“You don’t think I have that, too?”

Joe blinks, like the thought hadn’t occurred to him. When your boyfriend should have been helping you through those things, you had to rely on your old friends from the company instead. You would have helped him through his struggle, if he had only let you.

Then again, Joe Liebgott always had trouble asking for and admitting when he needed help.

“Park the car, Joe,” you say. “No, not here. In one of the parking spots.”

“Why?” Joe asks, even though he’s already pulling into a parking spot – he gets it perfect on the first try, effortlessly.

“Because,” you say. “You’re done driving for the night. You’re coming up to my hotel room and we’re finally going to talk.”

Joe kills the engine, but he doesn’t move from his seat. For a moment he stares at you, like he isn’t sure if this is real, or if he should. He must make up his mind because he nods, gets out of the car, and comes around to open your door for you. In the old days, he would have smirked at you, given you some pick-up line to hear you laugh. Now, he watches you with reserve.

Maybe this is a mistake. But if either of you really feels that what happened was a mistake, then there’s the possibility that it can be fixed, even after all these years. Not in one night, but it will be a start. Tonight, you can do something for Joe that people so often forget that he needs – show him some understanding, some compassion. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll be able to reignite the light that once existed between you again.

#band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine #joe liebgott #joe liebgott x reader #joseph liebgott #joseph liebgott x reader #my writing #hbo war fanfic #hbo war

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malarkgirlypop · 6 months

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hihi I had an idea with Joe Liebgott x Nurse where they despised each other in high school and never saw each other again after that. Once the war begins, reader volunteered to become a nurse in aid stations, and one day lieb gets shot in the ass lol and has to go to the aid station where she is. She never imagined he'd become her patient, and he never imagined they'd ever cross paths again, and it feels like they're back in high school all over again

enemies to lovers basically hihi

Goody Part 1 (Joseph Liebgott x Fem!Reader)

OMG This is the best idea. I hope that you like it. This is the first part! More to come after this. As soon as I got this message I dropped everything to write it. I'm so excited for the next part so stay tuned! Also let me know how smutty I can be ahaha. This is based off the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, no hate to the people involved.

Mr Lancy drones on, my eyes droop as he speaks. My brain can’t handle all the maths questions on the board. Maths is my least favourite subject for two reasons. One I hate it all the numbers they jumble together and I can never make sense of the questions and two Joseph Liebgott is in this class with me. We don’t get to pick our seats either, Mr Lancy isn’t nice enough for that.

So when I walked in on the first day of the year I took my respective seat from the chart that was pinned to the board, I thought there must be an odd amount of students in the class since everyone had a desk partner except for me. I wasn’t too fussed, I was at the back of the class, so I could get away with doing nothing. The bell rang and in came Mr Lancy, he was calling the roster when Joe strolled in. Oh no! I thought, please don’t be my desk buddy! Joseph Liebgott had a reputation around school for being a miscreant, always getting into trouble. He once gave all the boys in our year the most dreadful skullets in the school toilets. He got suspended for a whole week. They never actually expel him, because he is one of the top scoring students in our year. I have no idea how he is so smart when he makes so many stupid choices. I groan internally as he makes a B-line to my desk. Joe and I have never gotten along, I like to follow rules unlike him and he likes to tease me for it.

“Ugh, I’m with you goody!” I glare at the boy as he slumps down into the seat next to me, using the shortened version of the nick-name he has for me, goody-two-shoes.

“Don’t flatter yourself ass-hat, I’m not pleased to be with you either.” I growl at him, clenching my fists on the desk. No one pisses me off quite like Joe does, I see him and I just want to strangle him.

“Ass-hat, that’s a good one. Where did you come up with that?” I roll my eyes, ignoring his taunting. I know that if I bite we will end up in a fist fight on the floor and I do not need him getting me into trouble.

So everyday I have to deal with the ass-hat that is Joseph Liebgott and maths. I sigh, looking at the clock, come on, how has it only been two minutes since I last checked the time.

“Miss Y/L/N, how about you come up and solve this one!” Mr Lancy calls my name, snapping me from the thoughts, shit! I have not been paying attention at all. Joe chuckles from beside me seeing the panic on my face. I send daggers his way, he pretends to cower back. I plaster a tight smile to my face, and make my way to the front, taking the chalk from Mr Lancy. I stand in front of the board, my heartbeat accelerating, a sweat breaks out across my forehead. I don’t even get the equation on the board. I bit my lower lip, glancing out of the corner of my eye, Mr Lancy stands with his arms crossed over his chest waiting for me to solve the equation. My hand shakes as I raise the chalk, feeling pressured to write something. I shakily drag the chalk down the blackboard, it squeaks making me wince. I cringe, I just wrote one. Someone end my suffering. I plead quietly in my brain. A chortle of laughter comes from the back of the room, everyone turns to see Joe bright red in the face dying from a fit of giggles. I scowl at him as he wipes tears from his eyes.

“Well if you think you can do better Mr Liebgott, by all means come up.” I sigh from relief, putting down the chalk and walking back to my seat, I pass Joe who makes his way to the front, he chuckles again as we pass. I clench my fists, don’t punch him. I take a breath trying to control my hatred. I sit down as Joe saunters to the front. He picks up the chalk erasing my shakey one with his hand. He solved the maths problem quickly. Turning and grinning at the class, some of the girls let out dreamy sighs. I roll my eyes. He makes eye contact with me, raising his eyebrows, giving me his signature smirk. I control myself from slapping the smug look off his face as he comes and sits down next to me again.

“Aw goody, you’ll get it next time.” He teases.

“Fuck off!” I say lowly. He chuckles again, knowing how to really get under my skin. I swear he takes pleasure in just pissing me off.

Last day of the year, and we would’ve graduated high-school. I walk with my friends as we collect our year books. We look through the photos, laughing at the terrible ones that were submitted. We all sign each other’s books, writing cute notes to each other about how we will miss each other and how we need to stay in touch. I sit reading all the notes left for me, smiling down at my book. It’s ripped from my hands, I gasp looking up to find a smirking Joe. I groan out loud.

“Give it back ass-hat!” I say standing, maybe this is the day I finally punch this guy in his big nose.

“Aww how sweet!” He mocks pouting, reading all of the messages written.

“Joe! Give it back, or I swear!” I say louder, stepping forward to grab the book from him, but he moves quickly away and holds the book over his head out of my reach.

“Or you swear you'll do what?” He taunts. I raise my foot, harshly stomping on his toes. His smug look replaced with pain. He drops his guard, I take my chance. I leap up grabbing my book from his hand, not realising he is only standing on one foot. He loses his balance as I jump on him. We topple backwards, landing in a heap on the ground. I look down at our position, I straddle his torso, our faces very close together as we both grip the year book in our outstretched hands. I pant in his face, our eyes locking briefly. Before we both snap to our senses.

“Oh god!” I shout, as he pushes me off him. “Get off me goody!” I take my yearbook back.

“Jesus if you wanted to get into my pants, all you had to do is ask!” His smug grin returned.

“Gross, I would never.” I hissed in his face. “Me either!” he retorts with the same energy.

That was the last time I saw the dreaded Joseph Liebgott. After I finished high-school, I went to university and studied to be a nurse. I got my degree and got a job in the hospital. I had only been working for a year before Japan bombed Pearl Harbour. I had wanted to help so I volunteered with a few of the other nurses I was working with. They had scooped us up immediately needing all the help they could get. Before we knew it we were on a boat to Europe, to help the soldiers. We had been assigned to the aid stations close to the front, where the medics sent back their men to be treated and then moved back onto the front again. It was hard work, the men that came in were often in very bad shape, needing assistance immediately. We only had one doctor and very limited supplies. So most of the decisions being made were by the nurses. I liked it, it made me think, tested my limits. Sometimes it tested them a bit too much though. Not everyone can be saved, no matter how hard you try, or go over the scenarios in your head each time, thinking of something you could’ve done differently. After a while the thrill got old. It was more heartbreaking than anything. But the nurses kept each other spirits high, if we were down the men could tell which brought down morale too. We weren’t just here to heal them of their injuries but support them. I always put on a smile, made small talk with the men, built rapports so they felt safe.

Eugene Roe, the medic for Easy company, came into the aid station with other men carrying a soldier on a stretcher.

“Hey Gene!” I chirped to the man as I finished tending to one of the patients.

“Hi Y/N!” He smiled back at me, turning around to tell the men to put the soldier on one of the beds.

“What have we got today?” I said as I approached the medic.

“You’re gonna love this, it’s another ass wound.” He chuckled. I sigh, the men of Easy company have a way of getting their asses shot. It had become an inside joke between Gene and I, we said that it’s because when they were lying down flat that their butts were still higher than their heads, because they’re so juicy.

“Easy men I swear.” I grin looking down at the patient who lay on their front. I bent down looking at the dressing Gene had put on, the man’s pants had been ripped open for Gene to get at the injury.

“Any pain meds?” I asked, lifting the dressing. A fairly deep graze was on the left cheek of the man’s behind. Like the bullet had just skimmed the top of it.

“No, he's a tough one.” Gene replied, giving the man a pat on the back.

“Damn right I am!” I froze, my hands stilled. Not moving, my eyes glanced at the face of the injured man. That nose was unforgettable.

“Joseph Liebgott!” I uttered. Joe craned his head around to look at me.

“Goody?” A shocked look dawned his face.

“You two know each other or something?” Gene asked, watching the interaction.

“Ugh out of everyone, why did it have to be you!” I groaned, not replying to Gene.

“Oh like I’m so thrilled!” Joe retorted in a sarcastic tone. “We went to high-school together, she was a pain in my ass.” Joe looked at Gene answering his question.

I scoffed, “Pain in your ass, I doubt it. He was a nightmare, Gene. Always up to no good.”

“Oh I could imagine that. Well I will leave him in your care then, Y/N.” Gene patted me on the shoulder as he made his way to the door.

“Gene, don't leave me here with her! She might try to kill me!” Joe cried, reaching for the leaving medic who just laughed at Joe.

“You’ll be fine, Liebgott, she’s a great nurse.” Gene called to him, giving us a cheesy grin before ducking out of sight.

“I’m not going to kill you Joe.” I rolled my eyes at his antics.

“You tried to kill me in high-school.” Joe protested.

“Yeah well this isn’t high-school. So turn around and let me do my job.” He groaned but did as I asked, burying his head into the pillow and letting out an audible groan.

I got to work, cleaning his wound. I washed out the laceration with clean water, cleaning around the peri-wound as well. It was deep enough to be packed, so I cut my gauze and packed it into the wound.

“Ouch!” Joe groaned. His butt cheeks clenching.

“Sorry, hold still.” I said as he squirmed under my touch. I finished the last of my packing, then placed a clean dressing over the injury. “I’ll go get you some new pants.” I scurried away to get some fresh pants for him. I returned with new pants, giving them to him, before closing the curtain and letting him change. He pulled back the curtain, looking ready to leave.

“Where are you going?” I asked him, as I moved from another soldier’s bed.

“Well you fixed me up so I can go.” Joe said, trying to move past me, I blocked his path.

“We haven't discharged you yet. You will need to stay until it heals fully.” I informed him.

He didn’t look pleased with me. “But it’s fine!”

“Well no, I have packed it and that needs to be changed daily. So you can’t leave. And no before you say it, Gene cannot do it in the field.” I interrupt him, seeing the thought in his mind before he can say it.

“Tell me Joe, what do you do in your foxhole most of the day?” I ask the man trying to get my point across.

“Sit.” He replies, looking confused.

“Exactly, you sit. That wound on your butt, that you sit on, will not heal if you go back to the front.” I explained to him, “Plus, because it’s on your ass, there is a greater chance of infection. So no, you’re not leaving until we say so.” I raise my eyebrows daring him to speak. He gives me a tight lipped smile, sighing loudly. He lies back down on his bed.

“Can you do a double tonight?” Mary asks me with puppy dog eyes. I glance at the clock, I’m supposed to be finishing in about ten minutes and I was so excited to go to sleep.

“Why can’t you do the night shift?” I ask her.

She blushes, becoming sheepish. “I have a date.” She grins at me. I know exactly who she is going on a date with as well, one of the soldiers that she tended to last week. They both became infatuated with each other, she didn’t leave the hospital that whole week, begging to do all of the night shifts so that she could stay with her lover boy. She even did one of my shifts for me, I had the whole day to lie in bed and do nothing. So I suppose I owe it to her. I nod reluctantly, as she grins clapping her hands together.

Night shift isn’t always too bad, most of them men just sleep and sometimes we have people brought in. But due to poor visibility at night, nothing much really happens to warrant a trip to the aid station. But today I feel extra exhausted, because I was fighting the whole time with ass-hat. Every time I turned around I found his eyes on me. Watching me like a hawk. He would smirk at me, while I sent daggers back. He was back to his old antics of winding me up and it was driving me up the wall. All I had wanted to do was go home and lie down. Now I had to stay and listen to him snore peacefully in bed, while I stayed up all night.

I sat catching up on the notes for the day. They were normally brief due to having no real down time to finish them all since we were always so busy and understaffed. I sat tapping my pencil to paper trying to think of what happened to the particular patient I was writing about. I couldn’t help but let my eyes wander to the sleeping Joe. A candle dimly lit the room so I could make out his face in the dark. He lay on his back snoring quietly. His brown hair tousled slightly on his forehead, a relaxed expression on his face, I hate to admit it but he’s very handsome. Only when he isn’t pestering me, I think I could get used to a sleeping Joe, he doesn’t drive me nuts in this state.

I sat staring at the clock, willing it to be 0700 so that I could leave and get some sleep. My eyes drooped as I propped my head up on my hand. Mary arrived early, bursting into the room all excited. I grinned at the young girl, as she made her way over to me. I was eager to hear how her date went with the soldier. She kept me company while waiting for the next shift of nurses to arrive telling me about her night.

“And then he lent in and kissed me.” She almost swooned out of her seat. I laughed watching her. “Oh Y/N it was so romantic, truly!” She lent in closer whispering, “I think I’m in love.”

“Steady on Mary, it was only your first date.” I cautioned the young nurse. But all she did was grin at me. I shook my head, laughing at her again.

“Y/N we need you to stay on just for a little while longer.” Dr. Johns told me, my smile dropped. I nodded reluctantly, knowing they needed me. I did my round leaving Joe till the end. He lay on his stomach reading a comic he had borrowed off of one of the other soldiers.

“Morning Joe.” I said sleepily, not really in the mood for his smugness.

“Morning goody.” He grinned, turning to look at me, his face dropped. He tilted his head assessing me. “Have you been here all this time?” He asked, looking at my face. I’m sure the bags under my eyes gave away my lack of sleep. I nodded barely able to keep my eyes open.

“I just need to change your dressings, can you pull your pants down for me.” I asked, he looked like he was going to make a snarky comment but bit his tongue, doing as I had asked. I removed the previous dressing, cleaned it and then packed it again and applied a new dressing over top. He pulled his pants back up after I was done, rolling onto his side. I didn’t get up immediately, enjoying the softness of his bed. I felt myself nodding off, I put out my hand to steady myself, leaning onto my elbow. My eyes won’t even open. I feel a tug, as my arm is pulled from under me, I fall onto the bed. I feel gentle hands place a pillow under my head. I sigh, feeling comfortable. The bed moves, I hear the sound of the curtain being pulled. The bed dips again, someone takes a seat beside me. I don’t hear much after that, I fall fast asleep.

“Goody.” Someone shakes my shoulder. I blink, raising my head from the pillow. I look up to find Joe lying beside me, one hand on my shoulder the other grasping the comic. I am positioned awkwardly on the bed lying half way down the mattress, curled into a little ball. “I let you sleep for an hour, but people are looking for you.” Joe informs me lying back on his pillow, and continuing his reading. I rub my eyes and yawn. Joe let me sleep on his bed. I’ve been asleep for an hour SHIT!

“Oh shit!” I say springing up from my position. I fix my hair and uniform, straightening out the creases in my dress. I pull back the curtain, trying to make it look like I didn’t just fall asleep on a patient’s bed for an hour.

“A thank you would be nice.” I hear from behind me, as Joe stares at me waiting.

“Thank you Joe.” I smile and leave quickly to try and find the other nurses. The rest of the shift is a blur. I don’t think I would’ve made it without the nap Joe let me have. It was so busy I didn’t even get a chance to sit down and they were supposed to let me leave after the morning but they insisted I stayed since it was so hectic, I didn’t have a choice but to stay. I finally gather all of my stuff and head for the door, passing Joe’s bed on my way out.

“Bye Joe.” I say as I leave, not really thinking too much about it.

“Why are you being so nice, Goody?” I hear him pipe up. I sigh and smile as I turn to face him.

“I can be nice, Joe.” I state.

“I don’t know, I don’t like it. What are you up to?” He squints his eyes at me looking suspicious.

“I’m not up to anything!” I counter, “I’m just too tired to have to fight with you.” Without giving him the chance to reply I leave quickly, saying goodbye to the other men on my way out.

#ass-hat #goody #hehe #are we about to kiss rn?#we love the bickering #like an old married couple #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers #joseph liebgott #i hope you all enjoy #enemies to lovers

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serendipitysae · 7 months

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Querencia ( Joseph D. Liebgott x Reader )

querencia/ kɛˈrɛnθɪə,Spanish keˈrenθja,keˈrensja/

noun ; querencia; plural noun: querencias

Sanctuary.

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

01.00 AM.

19th July, 1946, Yuma, California.

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

Feel free to stir together using your hands.

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

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

Yeah right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I just..”

You looked up to him.

“I just can’t do it, Doll..”

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

“Oh Joe..”

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

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

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

He nodded.

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

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

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

“ I just .. well..”

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

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

“What ?”

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

“I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#Joseph Liebgott x Reader #fluff #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers one shot #band of brothers #band of brothers fandom #I love me my Liebgott content #I just wanna rah rah rah I just wanna rah rah rah #Joe best boy !!#Webster actually rang the wrong doorbell like twice before finding the right apartment #he will never head the end of it.#I love you guys !!#I don't bite i promise i want more fan friends TT

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she-wolf09231982 · 3 months

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This was a fun little project I found on @suugrbunz posts and I thought it would be fun to practice with this prompt. Hope you like it!

Prompt idea to practice your writing otp (ocs or fandom) — it'd be so cool since a lot of us write BoB fandom related content. So it can be interrupted as a modern au or !! Write your couples when they have grown old together

~💚~💚~💚~💚~💚~💚~

Upon returning from Europe after the war came to an end, you and Joe Liebgott had enough points for Honorable Discharge then came back to America after having served together in Easy Company ready to begin your lives as an exclusive couple. You both agreed that California would be the proper place to settle together. With the finances you each earned overseas, you bought a modest home with all the trimmings and furniture to fill it with.

June 1946

A representative from a popular local radio station visited your home to invite you and Joe for a live broadcast interview about your experiences together as a couple while deployed. The man explained it would be a real human-interest story and the American public would love to hear it. After a little bit of coaxing, you convince Joe to do it with you.

You and Joe seated next to eachother across from the record jockey who would be interviewing you. The interview simply went as follows:

Record Jockey (RJ): So, are you two a couple?

Y/N: We are a couple. *Proudly smiling*

Joe: *Nods with a grin*

RJ: Would you mind telling us the story of how you two met?

*You’re hesitant at first because women serving in the military was quite frowned upon, but nonetheless would still be overjoyed to tell the story. Joe would only be looking to you to do all the talking. He loves hearing your voice, and just stares at you admirably*

Y/N: We both enlisted in the Army at the same time and met at Camp Toccoa, GA. I trained with the Paratroopers and the medic training unit while we were there and was assigned to Easy Company where Joe also was.

RJ: When was that?

*Joe is better with numbers than you, so you hum in thought then look at Joe to help you out*

Y/N: June....? July...

Joe: July 1942

RJ: What was your first impression of each other?

*You smile coyly at Joe, narrowing your eyes at him. Joe would be slouching in his seat, not very thrilled to be there in the first place, but perks up a little at the question meeting your gaze affectionately*

Y/N: He was smug, and overconfident. A real wise guy with a mouth that needed a good bar of soap. My initial impression of Joe was that he was nothing but trouble. And you know what? I was right about that, (Y/N giggles) but after spending all those years with him overseas, I discovered how charming he could be. And how honorable of a soldier he was in the field.

*Joe grins adoringly at you. Grabs your hand and squeezes*

Joe: At first, I thought she was a pain in the....

RJ: Mr. Liebgott! Please, we’re live!

Joe: -right...uh, pain in the rear. Whenever me and the guys did somethin’ we weren’t supposta’, she’d always be naggin’ us. Ya know, like a parent? Thought she was going to fall behind a lot and complain about getting dirty or having to fire the M-1. She didn’t complain about the work, the filth, the sweat, the tears or the heat. None of it. She pushed through like any of the guys did. I read her all wrong in the beginning.

*Your eyes meet and exchange smiles*

RJ: How many years have you been an item?

Y/N: Well, the rest of the guys considered us an ‘item’ long before we dropped into Normandy. But I’d say exclusively since late June 1944. After all the near-death experiences, we definitely had a stronger bond.

*Joe just nods in agreement*

RJ: Joe, we haven’t heard too much from you. What's your favorite thing about Y/N?

*Y/N looks over at Joe expectantly, smirking because she knows he doesn’t really like to talk about feelings*

Joe: *Long exhale, kind of stares out into space thinking* Well...she’s a knockout. Just look at her. *Gestures to Y/N sitting next to him blushing* I love that she can look the way she does and still be as strong as any of the guys in Easy.

*He looks you over and winks at you making the butterflies in your stomach dance*

RJ: So, was there a first date?

*You and Joe both look at eachother inquisitively, each squinting at one another as if trying to search the other’s thoughts for an answer. You shrug*

Joe: What about that night at Toccoa when we snuck out after lights out, and walked Curahee? Think that counts?

Y/N: Ah, yes! It was so hot and humid, and neither of us could sleep on those kinds of nights-

Joe: Mid-August 1943

Y/N: -so we both snuck out of billeting to get some air after TAPS and bumped into eachother behind the mess hall. So, it was an impromptu first date. We ended up walking the Curahee trail up the mountain where we always did our awful company runs. But you could see the stars perfectly up there.

*Joe nods*

RJ: So, with the war having brought you together and the experiences having made you two inseparable, any plans to make Y/N ‘Mrs. Liebgott?’

*You hiccup clutching your pearls. Joe chokes on saliva and chuckles nervously*

Joe: *Scratching the back of his head* I think that goes without sayin’--

RJ: How about little Liebgotts?

*Sweat forming on Joe’s forehead, you sense his panic*

Y/N: Joe and I have the same ambitions planning for our future. That will include marriage and starting a family. Right now, we’re relishing eachother living peaceful lives after the chaos of the war. We’re in no hurry.

*You look over at Joe, and he directs a grateful smile to you for rescuing him*

RJ: You heard it here first, ladies and gentlemen! From the treacherous depths of war love still prevails! Thank you for sharing your story with the public! It’s lovely to see this point of view about the war than from what we’ve only heard or seen in the news. What a story!

The End

#band of brothers #joe liebgott #ross mccall #101st airborne #ww2 #joseph liebgott #easy company #501st battalion #joe liebgott rabbit hole #joe liebgott brain rot #joe liebgott sends me #joe liebgott x reader #joe liebgott imagines #medic #valentines aesthetic #valentines day #be my valentine

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scotchballs9 · 1 month

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Webgott as Natsby has me in a chokehold

I can see Liebgott chasing after a woman for multiple years while Websters can only stand on the sidelines and watch Liebgott destroy himself

idk if it’s ooc but 🤷🏽‍♂️

I can also see Natsby as Webgott during WWII but instead of constantly arguing, it’s just both of them scolding each other on what they’re doing wrong and they both fix it in the end so the argument can stop

#the great gatsby #non political #nick carraway #jay gatsby #wwii #band of brothers #joseph liebgott #david webster #Webgott #imagines

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rogue-durin-16 · 2 years

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THE BRIDESMAID PROBLEM

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

Pairing: Joe Liebgott x Reader

Genre: fluff-ish

Tags:

Band Of Brothers: @mavericksparky @chubbypotatoepie @tvserie-s-world

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Warnings: language and that's about it? Damn who am I

A/N: credit for the smacking on the nose goes to @itswormtrain thank you very much for putting that vivid image in my mind. I'm very aware of the fact that Liebgott didn't keep in touch with anyone from Easy Company after the war, but bear with me. Side note, this was originally going to be a Malarkey fic but I rewrote it entirely for it to fit Lieb lmao. That said, hope you enjoy <3

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

C'mon, Y/n, you can do this, I spurred myself, hand on the metallic door knob. You were a paratrooper, for God's sake.

Knock knock.

"It's open!"

With a slow push on the wooden surface, I was able to walk into the narrow estance at the back of the chapel that currently served as changing room for the groom and groomsman.

Before me, a very hopeless Floyd Talbert attempted in vain to do his tie knot, and a stressed Joe Liebgott muttered profanities whilst pacing.

"Sorry to interrupt, gentlemen." they both ceased their actions and turned to me with a surprised face. "Arlene told me to tell you that the... bridesmaid problem? Is solved."

Ah, the bridesmaid problem; Floyd's soon-to-be wife had gotten into a serious argument with her friend a few days prior to the wedding, which led to Arlene Hunt finding out she lacked a bridesmaid last minute.

Chaos had unleashed, until the bride's mother had laid her eyes on me. Soon enough, I was dragged into the ceremony even before I could go and greet Tab.

"Apparently, I'm the bridesmaid?" I announced, rubbing my hands with nervousness. "I don't-"

"Y/n Y/l/n!" Tab claimed my name with a smile, stalking across the room to give me a quick hug. "Didn't know if you'd make it."

"Matter of fact, I almost didn't." I laughed softly, returning the affectionate gesture. "The trip was dreadful. I just got here."

"Joe could've brought you here. He came all the way from San Francisco, too." That statement made us both spare a proper look at a starstruck Joe, half forgotten in the room with his mouth agape. "Right Joe?"

"Huh?"

"The cab. You two could've come together."

"Oh! yeah." He cleared his throat, scratching the back of his neck. "I'll... drive you back to your place after the wedding."

"You don't have to." I assured him.

"No, I will— don't fight me, it's fine."

I gave him a tight-lipped smile, clutching my purse as if my life depended on it.

Floyd puffed, his eyes traveling from Joe to me, and back to Joe. The tension heaved over us so visibly that it could have been cut with a knife.

"Okay I'm gonna go... Attend groom's matters." Talbert announced, gently moving me out of the way in order to reach the door.

"Ain't that supposed to be my—" Liebgott's words were cut short by the abrupt shut of the door behind me. "He's a mess."

"He is." I agreed, taking my hands to my back. "Floyd Talbert marrying. Who would've thought?"

"Fuck, not even him." Joe remarked, triggered an quiet amused chuckle on my part. "You look beautiful, by the way." He added, nonchalantly motioning at my form.

My cheeks heated ever so slightly, my gaze casted down to check the way I looked myself. "Why, thank you. You don't look so bad yourself."

He clicked his tongue, briefly giving his head a side tilt, eyes wandering off to the side of the room while he shoved his hands in his pockets. "Had to look sharp for today."

"Well, you sure do."

We both shared a nervous look and seemed to wander the same thing. Gosh, where was this awkwardness coming from? Floyd, Joe and I used to be as thick as thieves. Now we couldn't even hold a proper conversation.

Drifting apart, time and the war were to blame, sure, but Joe and I had had a hand in it too.

Spring of '45

"—Y/n for fuck's sake!" Liebgott's hand made the door come to a halt and pushed it wide open, shortly after I had attempted to shut it behind me.

"I don't wanna hear it!"

"Too fucking bad!"

"Leave!"

I was very much aware that our shouts were most likely echoing through the whole hotel, which was the opposite to what we both would have liked, but the panic led me to have a very irrational response to Joe's words.

With a huff, he turned, not to leave but to close the door behind him. At least we'd have some privacy. "If you don't wanna hear it then why'd you fuckin' ask?!"

"BECAUSE" I clapped my hands together. "I didn't THINK the response to 'what's wrong with you today' would be 'I think I'm IN LOVE WITH YOU'!" Throwing my hands in the air definitely added unnecessary dramatism to the situation, but I couldn't stop myself.

"I know that wasn't the ideal love confession you expected but—"

"What you're implying is unethical." Outloud sounded even more absurd than in my head, and I had to mentally facepalm myself.

"The hell— that's— feelings are not unethical, you stupid fuck!"

"Hey!"

"What a poor fuckin' excuse! You've always been bad at handling your feelings—"

"Look who's talk—"

"—but this one takes the cake!" He took a couple of steps in my direction and I could tell he was about to spiral. "I'm your fucking friend! The least you can do is reject me properly! And instead what— you run upstairs and try to shut the door on my face! you coward. selfish. assh—"

Smack.

Not giving a single thought to the impulse I had just felt sent us into an abrupt silence.

Joe lips parted in shock as he took a step back with his hand on his nose, while my own covered my mouth, eyes widened.

"Did you just... Smack me in the nose?!" His tone held outrage and disbelief in such a way that it was almost comical.

"I'm sorry." I blurted out in a whisper. "I dunno what—"

He had taken advantage of my frozen state to smack me back. Talbert's voice echoed in my mind; 'you two behave like middle schoolers'.

"Why would you do that?!"

"You smacked me in the nose!" Running his hands through his hair, he did a half turn and, after letting out a frustrated groan, faced me again. "Listen, if you don't feel the same way, just say it."

"Okay!" My mind buzzed with an answer that was so définitive, so simple, that it became difficult to voice. So instead of speaking the truth, I didn't speak at all.

" 'Okay' what?"

My mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water until the only coherent sentence I put together fell from my lips. "Fuck you."

I didn't stay to listen to his response. Needless to say, that chaotic argument we had in Zell am See, had been the last time we had spoken to each other.

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

"what kinda bridesmaid bails the day of the wedding?" I commented with a frown in an attempt to make a proper conversation from a scratch.

"A stupid one." I an amused smile tugged on the corner of my lip. "Mind helping me out with the tie?" I shook my head in the negative before taking a few careful steps to reach Joe. "I told Tab I didn't like that broad." He explained while I passeohim my purse and reached for the undone tie around his collar. "Always saying shit to Arlene 'bout—"

"Alright, Joe, let's not speak ill of future Mrs. Talbert's friend." I warned with a quirked brow.

"Aye, Sarge." His mocking tone earned him a warning glare, which, as soon as I looked up at the ghost of his cocky smirk, turned into an endeared glance.

Oh, what I would do for that smile.

"You're staring." It was nothing more than a whisper, but it did the trick to snap me out of my daze.

"Am I?" My voice was just as quiet, my eyes leaving his face in order to focus on finishing the knot of the tie.

He hummed affirmatively. "Not that I mind it." Done with my task, I straightened the tie over his chest, giving him a pat on it. "I missed havin' those pretty eyes on me."

'And I missed you', I wanted to say, but a quick yet loud knock on the door made me step away from Joe. "Y/n, the bride's callin' for ya!"

"Comin'!" I gave my old friend an apologetic smile and stepped backwards to the door.

"See ya out there." He threw me my purse and I nodded, swiftly turning around to exit the room.

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

The church ceremony flew by; before we knew it, pictures had been taken and we all have a considerable portion of cake in our plates. The banquet had been simple— a frugal meal by the church, and lots of laughs and drinks.

As endearing as the couple of newly weds were, my attention seemed to keep drifting off to Joe, who kept wandering around, jumping from one conversation to another, occasionally having a drink alone.

"He hates talkin' 'bout the war." Floyd had explained to me. "Whenever someone brings it up, he leaves."

Understandable, I thought. The war was still a hot topic —to the dismay of most soldiers—; people would inevitably bring it up in every conversation.

Eventually, I joined Joe in his nomadic demeanor. We stuck together throughout the remaining of the celebration, much like we had done back in the church, due to our duties as groomsman and bridesmaid. The more we talked, the more my regrets weighed on me.

We had spent years without contacting one another, despite living in the same city. I knew I couldn't blame it all on my reaction to his confession, but it surely had something to do.

That memory, along with the last moments of our friendship back in Berchtesgaden, played in my mind during our trip back to San Francisco.

For better or for worse, we didn't travel alone until we were getting to California.

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

"There—" I leaned over the cockpit seat to point at the next turn the taxi would have to take. "That's my street."

"Huh."

"What is it?" I questioned, leaning back again for my own safety right before my very personal taxi driver turned the steering wheel in the direction I had pointed.

"I just never realized how close we live."

"Funny, isn't it?"

"I dunno if 'funny's the word." Joe muttered, slowing down the cab midway through the path. From there, it would be a mere three minute walk to my block, which was not bad, considering that Joe had brought me home from Indiana. "It was good to see ya Y/n."

"Joe?" He hummed, looking at my reflection in the rear-view mirror, the same in which I could see his eyes. With a deep breath, I shifted nervous in the backseat, unnecessarily accommodating myself. "I..."

Another sigh escaped my lips again when my eyes met his in the mirror for the second time. There was no trace of the previous curiosity in his look; his brows were now furrowed.

"You know what I'm gonna say, right?" His hand tightened around the steering wheel at my ominous tone.

"I think so."

Should I say it then? I thought. Maybe— no, not maybe; surely at this point it was uncalled for, unnecessary.

"Hold on, I'll pull up." Joe stopped me even before I could open my mouth, which I was thankful for. Purposefully or not, he had given me a couple of minutes to figure my thoughts out while he parked the vehicle.

Soon enough we both were climbing off the taxi with bowed heads.

"Okay, go ahead." He prompted me, leaning against the side of the cab.

"First of all, I'm sorry."

"See? That's how you should've started." "Not by smacking me in the face."

"I did not start by smacking you."

"My bad, you started by running away."

"I— okay yeah." I looked away in shame, an embarrassed smile twisting up my lips at the sound of a soft chuckle escaping Joe's. "Anyway."

"Go on."

"I'm sorry."

"You said that already."

"Gee, true. Okay I..." As hard as I fought the urge to avert my eyes from his, I ended up looking everywhere but at his face, rubbing my hands together in an anxious manner. "You're right. I'm horrible at handling emotions. I panicked. I— I loved you too." I finally met his gaze, relaxed and softened, and let out a relieved sigh. "I still do, I think. Just letting you know in case you don't wanna talk to me ever again."

I didn't mind what happened next, now that I had had the opportunity to get that information off my chest.

There was a moment of silence, after which Joe nodded. "Okay."

" 'Okay' what?"

He leaned on me with a shit-eating grin, hands still behind his back, pressed on the car's window, and whispered. "Fuck you."

"HOW CAN YOU BE SO PETTY? OH MY F—"

We had always seemed to have a habit of cutting off each other's sentences. Normally, it would play on our nerves, but in that moment in which Joe took a hold of my hands to bring me flush against his frame— in that moment in which his lips danced with mines under the stars of San Francisco, I didn't mind it at all.

By the hold he had on me, I don't think he minded it either.

#joe liebgott fanfiction #joe liebgott x reader #joseph liebgott fanfiction #joseph liebgott x reader #joe liebgott fluff #joseph liebgott imagine #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers fandom #hbo war fic #band of brothers headcanons #ross mccall #band of brothers x reader #hbo war #floyd talbert

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roadtogracelandx45 · 10 months

Text

Under False Pretenses|2| Band of Brothers Mafia AU

@marycorleone

ao3

masterlist

part one

smut is this chapter, its been awhile since I have actually written a full sex scene instead of implying it.

word count: 4k

Two

He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, every inch of him screaming out to turn the sirens on in the car and pull her over. First to haul her out of the seat and into his arms, to kiss her and apologize for listening to her grandfather. To meet his daughter, and be the man that he always was.

When Robert Stewart approached him about leaving Olivia, he thought that he had everything that she needed, including love. Something he would assume that Robert would have wanted for his oldest and only granddaughter.

But he was wrong, Robert had only cared about how far her relationships could get her. Much like her birth mother who Olivia cut out of her life after she found out that her daughter was in love with a barber/taxi cab driver. The aftermath of that fight was the first time that Joe had ever heard a girl say she loved him when he wasn’t balls-deep in them and it was the first time that he said it too.

He wanted to go back to Olivia when he had a career and had something to be proud of, he didn’t want to be coming back to her with his tail between his legs because his boss said so, but here he was.

Olivia glanced in the rearview mirror, the sedan that their normal driver Jake pointed out was following her, and her heart was in her throat. She knew that the business dealings that her family did and the ones that the Nixon family did could be why she was being followed.

They tried to keep her out of the loop but she knew, especially since Lewis and Dick started taking more and more on within it, they unloaded a lot on her. This morning was almost sweet with Lewis sleepily shuffling into her bedroom and into her bed after a long meeting the night before, he wouldn’t go into details, all he wanted to was cuddle into her and watch a movie with her.

Dick had already joined her hours before.

“JOE!?!” She exclaimed when her eyes meet the driver of the sedan behind her. It had been 5 years to the day since she had last seen him, her 21st birthday. “What the fuck?! Liv, you are seeing things, it's been 5 years, and he is never coming back.” She shook her head and looked at her phone that beeped, Lewis had texted her, another birthday message proclaiming his love for her, her pussy and tits, and her love of Vat .69.

Everything.

Leave it to Lewis to make her smile when she was starting to panic, he and Dick had developed an Olivia spidey sense and found one way or another to get to her.

It was almost sweet.

She typed a quick reply before going to the yoga studio, after giving birth to Aurora and battling postpartum depression, she had started yoga on top of therapy. It had helped but never fully healed the hurt she had from missing him.

“Hey, there’s the birthday girl.” Dick greeted, a couple of hours later, stepping into Olivia’s office a few hours later, she and Lewis looked so peaceful sleeping this morning that he had just left them to sleep.

“Hey, Dick.” She returned balling up a tissue in her hand and tossing it into the trash can.

“What’s wrong?” He crossed the room and pulled her from the chair she was in and into his arms.

“I thought I saw Joe.”

“Leibgott?” He forgot that she called him Joe, everyone called him by his last name but only Olivia called him, Joe.

“Yeah.” She returned with a sniffle, “I was going to the yoga studio, I swore I saw him in that piece of shit sedan that has been across the street from the house.’ Rolling his eyes frustrated, he pinched her ass causing her to yelp. He could tolerate swearing from her once in a while, mostly when she and Lewis had gotten into the Vat .69 but she was a proper southern lady, and at work at least she had to act like it.

“It’s been 5 years honey.” He started smoothing his hand over her curls, “Today, it's not surprising you would think that.” “Sorry, sorry, I am a mess.” On top of the emotions that had been pent up in her about the truth about why Joe left her, and her grandfather dying, she had to agree to go off of birth control and try for another baby until her older brother James figured out a loophole to stop the whole baby for her inheritance.

“What’s going on in here?” Lewis asked, he was making the trek to his own office and had seen his husband and wife through the window and backtracked to the door to look at them. ‘I thought I saw Joe, kind of threw me through a loop.’ She commented as she went to pull away from Dick but he held her fast, he didn’t want her to leave his side until she was together. The last time he let her go, she ended up having a panic attack and had to be sedated.

The dark hair man looked at Dick then at Olivia who rested her head on his chest. Shaking his head, he put his files and coffee cup he had in his hands on her desk before hugging her from behind.

“We looked high and low for him babe. He is gone.” He nuzzled his nose into her neck, “Gene even went to Italy remember?”

Eugene Roe was Olivia’s best friend from the pre-med program and had come up from New Orleans to help them look for him.

“I know, I know.” She returned softly before clearing her throat, “Y’all need to get to your meetings. Your dad is here Lew, and I don’t want to fight with him on my birthday about you being late for your meetings.”

Smirking, her husband nipped the flesh of her neck, “He agreed with your grandfather, he should have a grandchild with the Nixon DNA. He will forgive me if I am late for one not only comforting my wife but by fucking her too.” Dick rolled his eyes before pressing a chaste kiss to Olivia’s mouth and forehead, “I do have to go. I will be back later to get you for lunch Lew, behave yourself.”

“Never.”

“Agent Jones, if you follow me, Mrs. Nixon is back from her lunch with Mr. Nixon and Mr. Winters.” Alice Rogers, Olivia’s long-time assistant commented as she rose from behind the desk. Scarlett who had won out and was the one to meet with Olivia, the woman knew the other men, and nothing would get done. And they didn’t want her to know that Joe was an agent. “Thank you.” She said, “How long have you been working with Mrs. Nixon?” She asked.

“Since she finished the nursing program, girl was going places in the field but she knew she had a duty to her family and the Nixons. Raised a major fuss about it.” The older woman answered before knocking on the door and easing it open, Olivia was standing behind the desk turned towards the ensuite bathroom talking to who Scarlett was assuming was Lewis Nixon.

“Seriously, Lew, all through lunch Stanhope stared straight at the hickies. Could you have waited to do that until after the party tonight?” Olivia could be heard saying. And Scarlett could have jumped for join, she had wanted to scream at Liebgott that she did love her husband and that he shouldn’t expect much of anything to come from being back in her life. But of course the boys were there hyping him up about it.

He was just going to end up getting drunk and being at her apartment talking about the past and Olivia and the last thing that she wanted to do was listen to that bullshit again.

She had heard it enough.

“Mrs. Nixon, Agent Jones of the FBI.” Alice said after clearing her throat. “Thank you Alice.” Olivia returned, tearing her attention away from her husband to look at the agent. “Sorry, a lot of excitement around here.”

“Yeah, my father is in town, it's Liv’s birthday today, her grandfather passed away.” Lewis rambled as he came out of the bathroom fussing with his tie. With a huff, the woman slapped his fidgeting fingers away from the tie and fixed it.

“Just not to pick a fight until after the party tonight Aurora is thrilled that she gets to go until after dinner.” Lewis raised his eyes in a playful thought. “Lewis! Don’t you dare!” She warned, thumping his chest lightly, “do you want to break a 4 years old’s heart?”

Scarlett shifted her weight from one foot to another, the boys were teasing Joe again about his tastes in women and Tab was telling another story about Aurora between jokes. She cleared her throat to remind them again that she was there.

“I would never.” The man laughed before pressing his lips against Olivia’s once, then twice and then a third time before leaving the office with not so much as a backward glance at Scarlett.

“Sorry about that.” Olivia said, pushing her bangs away from her eyes, “when his father is around he tends to get.” “Like a spoiled child?” Scarlett threw out, she had dealt with Joe when he went into a tailspin about missing Olivia and it was like having to deal with a spoiled child.

“Exactly.” She motioned for the agent to sit across from her, “What can I help the FBI with?”

Scarlett pushed up the glasses Stevenson insisted she wore. They hadn’t had time to bug her office and this was the easiest way to get eyes in the office.

“What are you doing Joe?” Talbert asked, pushing himself away from the table top that was in the back of the van they were in. “I am going in there, this is absolutely ridiculous. I have been away from her for five years because of her grandfather, you all know my child! That isn’t right!”

They had all heard him say more than once that he wanted to move Olivia to San Francisco into a big old house and fill it full of little Liebgott’s.

“We know but until a year and half ago we didn’t even know where you were.” Chuck Grant commented, “And you were so far up Scarlett’s ass that bringing up Olivia and Aurora seemed wrong.”

They were right, up until 6 months ago, he was in no position to hear a thing about Olivia, it hurt too much. Then one day, Talbert, who along with Grant and George Luz, another friend they had from school, went to lunch and he saw the picture of the trio and it opened the floodgates. He learned everything about her from the last 4 and half years. “Wait until tonight,” Floyd added, “Lewis and Dick are throwing her a party, we will sneak you in. You will see and be with her again.”

Atrium of Tenafly

Olivia Nixon’s 25th birthday party

“You know she probably won’t punch your lights out if you were to go over to her and talk to her.” Grant said later that night, they were in the venue for Olivia’s birthday party and Joe didn’t want to approach her.

“She is too well mannered in public now for that.’ Floyd started laughing from where he sat kiddie corner from him, “Your memory is failing you from that car accident Chuck.”

Chuck had been in a bad car accident leaving the ski lodge that Lewis had rented one year and it had left him with some speech and memory issues. “She has acted like that in public more then once. And usually on Liebgott’s behalf. Remember Mallie?” Joe pulled a face as he swallowed a drink of his whiskey, “Don’t remind me of that.” His dark eyes found Olivia who was talking to Eugene Roe, Babe Hefferon and Bill Guarnere, their daughter on her hip, the little girl was completely enamoured by the latter of the trio.

“I will be god damned.” Lewis Nixon commented as he came to a stop by the table, his eyes landing on Joe, “Livia wasn’t imagining you being back.”

“Nix, good to see you. Taking good care of our girl?” He returned as Floyd and George straightened up just in case they needed to get involved in a fight that was going to start brewing. They knew Liebgott and they knew Nixon and they knew how their tempers flaired when it came to Olivia. And Lewis had a habit of becoming more hot headed when it came Aurora.

“You never have to worry about that. Olivia and Aurora are in good hands. Dick and I take very good care of them.”

“I am surprised that you are sober enough to realize that they are there. Last I remember, you forgot about the dinner that you were supposed to have with her grandparents and she got verbally abused for that.’

“Take it easy fellas.” George warned, he could see that Lewis’s raised voice caught the attention of not only Dick, Harry and Kitty but that of Olivia and the group she was with.

“This is not the time or place for this fight. I don't think Liv would ever forgive either one of you for ruining this night for her like her 21st birthday party and this is Aurora’s first party that she has been able to attend for at least a little while.”

“Lew?” Olivia’s voice came as she came to a stop by his side, sans Aurora. The little girl was being twirled around the dance floor in her uncle Bill's arms giggling happily.

“Everything okay here? Hey guys.” She offered her friends a bright smile then her eyes landed on Joe.

Her suddenly numb fingers grasped at the sleeve of her husband's jacket, “Joe.”

“Hey Livia.” He greeted as he stood up, her eyes trailing over her body. The shooting star tattoo with the 11:11 time looked fresh, like the day she had gotten it. The rose gold necklace with the small shooting star charm that he had gotten her for her last birthday they spent together was around her neck, covering up part of the scar she had from the same car accident Chuck was in. Her tits, god those tits, looked better than he remembered. Maybe it was because of her carrying their daughter, but they looked phenomenal.

All he wanted to do is rip off the black material that covered them and suck on them. But now wasn’t the time nor place. And judging by the look on her face it would be a long while before it happened.

“Hey Livia! Is all you can say after 5 fucking years!” She said through clenched teeth, George and Tab were right, she wouldn’t be causing a scene not like how she used too. Mostly because of the cameras and people around. The last thing that Nixon Nitrate needed was a bad publicity event.

“Why don’t you two go outside and talk?” Bull Randleman commented from when he was standing just behind Olivia and Lewis, “Better that way and Aurora won’t ask questions.” Her eyes darted around seeking out the little girl who was still in Bill’s arms. “Go ahead Livia,” Lewis said before grasping her chin between his fingers and kissing her deeply. She whined and pushed his chest to get him away from her. He had started drinking before they had left for the party and having Joe show up was going to make the situation so much worse than it needed to be.

“Go sober up Lewis.” She returned before she walked quickly towards the propped open exit. Giving the drunk man a look, Joe followed her quickly.

“Come on Lewis, let’s get some coffee in you before you embarrass not only your husband but your wife and daughter.” Harry Welsh commented having heard everything that happened, he was one of the very few that could get through to Lewis when he was like this.

“It’s been 5 years.” Olivia started once the door swung shut behind him, “and all you can say is hey Livia? Do you have any idea what hell I have been through looking for you?”

She seemed calm but he knew better, this was her way of baiting him into a trap and causing a major fight that ended up with them being in bed for a week. “I waited for 6 hours. 6 hours at the train station for you. I watched the train we had tickets for leave and two other trains come and go.”

“I am sorry Liv, I am so sorry,” he started holding up his hands showing the defeat he felt, “i didn’t want to leave you. And I have regretted it every single day since I did. Your grandfather, the right bastard he is, threatened everything. He threatened your life if I didn’t leave.” Olivia, who had been rubbing her hands up and down her arms and pacing back and forth to keep warm, stopped in her tracks, “What?”

Joe undid the buttons to his jacket and pulled it off before holding it out to her silently, he knew she hated being cold, that was the one of the true southern Belle things about her, she didn’t do cold well.

“Come on Princess, it wouldn’t be the first time you wore my jacket. I seem to remember you loved wearing my clothes.” Scowling, Olivia stepped forward and pulled her arms through the sleeves. Joe pulled it up and settled it on her shoulders.

“He threatened to have you killed baby.” His hands stole under her the material and landed on her hips, “I couldn’t live with me being the fact that you were dead.”

She didn’t push him away like he had thought so he pulled her into him, “He would have rather had his only granddaughter dead then married and in love with a lowly barber cabbie from San Francisco.”

Tears were filling her eyes rapidly.

“I loved,” he paused to correct himself, “love you too much to let you die.”

“I almost did die.” She admitted softly, “I was pregnant with our child,” Joe closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers, “that little girl that I was with? That’s your daughter Aurora.” He dug his fingers into her hips and pulled her flush against him. “I was a mess, I didn’t know what to do. I had you everyday for 3 years and we were running away to Italy to get married and then you were gone. I was alone and pregnant.” “Livia.” He started, he had heard the accounts of what happened from the boys and read the file, he didn’t want to hear from her.

He couldn’t handle it. “You don’t have to talk about it baby. The boys filled me, Johnny said he and Pat and Harry and Kitty took turns sitting with you.”

She nodded her head as she reached her hand to wipe the tears away, “Kitty and Pat were with me for most of the pregnancy, Johnny too. He was the one that was with me when I went to labor with Aurora.” He made a silent note to thank Johnny for stepping up and being there for Olivia. “Liv?” Dick’s soft voice asked from the doorway, “We need you back in here.” “I will be right in.” She returned, cursing his timing. The tall man nodded his head and turned his back to give them privacy. “Sorry, duty calls.” His hands stole down from her waist to her ass, “I am not leaving any time soon. I am here to stay.”

***

5 hours later

Joe waited in the hallway as Olivia tiptoed into the room that Lewis was passed out in to check on him and on Dick who was still sitting up with an open novel on his lap. He couldn’t make out what they were saying but she leaned over and kissed a sleeping Lewis’s head before Dick’s lips and rejoined him in the hallway, “There’s one more stop before we can go to bed.”

Her voice was still low, like she was afraid to wake up a grown man and cause another fight but when she walked down the hallway to another door and eased the door open, he understood, their child was asleep just feet away.

He reached his hand up and pulled the device out of his ear and shoved it deep into his pocket, he didn’t need to hear anyone’s reactions and he was already thankful that Olivia had accidentally turned off the wire when she had straddled him on the limo ride back to the Nixon’s mansions. He didn’t want his co-workers and Scarlett didn’t listen to him seeing his daughter for the first time up close or him and Olivia fucking like wild animals. “Shh, it’s okay Rora, it’s just mama.’ Olivia’s voice was still soft as she smoothed her hand over the girl’s dark curls trying to soothe the little girl back to sleep.

“Mama, love.’ The little girl mumbled sleepily as she rolled over and clutched the stuffed rabbit. “I love you, sweet girl.” She whispered as Joe joined her and knelt on the floor next to her tears pricking his eyes.

“This is Aurora, our daughter.” He reached out a shaky hand and smoothed over the sleep-mussed hair and down.

“She is,” He started pausing to clear his voice. “Perfect. She is perfect.” She finished for him as her hand came to a rest on his forearm.

“Yeah.” He agreed before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the side of Aurora’s head. Olivia followed suit before rising to her feet and holding her hand out to him. He took another glance at the little girl before taking Olivia’s proffered hand and standing up.

She was still quiet as she led him down to the next room at the foot of another staircase that led to another floor. “This is my room.” Her normal volume was returning, “Sometimes Lew can be a little much and I need a break.” She had released his hand and was taking steps into the room, her now free hands first undoing the zipper on her skirt and then reaching up and undoing the diamond earrings she had been wearing.

“Fuck it.” He muttered to himself as he shut the door. As quick as he shut the door he was across the room and pulling Olivia into him by her waist, his mouth finding hers in a desperate kiss. Much like the one they had shared outside of the venue.

The earring that had been in her hand dropped to the carpet as she reached her hands up and tangled them into his hair to pull his mouth closer to hers.

His hands pushed the skirt down before they grasped her ass to lift her and carry her towards the bed, normally he would have been okay with fucking her against any surface in the room but it only felt right that for their first time in 5 years, it was in a bed. She pulled away from his mouth briefly to pull her top down leaving her with a black lace strapless bra, her nipples were already hardening against the material.

“God damn,” He muttered as she pressed another kiss to his mouth, he had dreamt about her tits and ass for years, even when he was fucking Scarlett, it was Olivia that he saw. His knees bumped against the end of the bed and he dropped her onto it. She yelped in surprise before she pushed herself up on her elbows, her eyes that were heavy with arousal never left his form as he pulled his shirt off, followed by his slacks.

He smirked when her tongue darted out and licked her dry lips when her eyes landed on his crotch. The tip of his cock was starting to peek out of the top of his briefs and he almost thought about teasing her but the need to be inside of her was starting to be too much.

“Joe.” She whined softly pressing her thighs together trying to hide her arousal from him.

“What is it princess?” He asked as he pushed his briefs down and off.

“Don’t tease.” He clicked his tongue and moved to kneel on the bed, his hands forcing her knees open so he could settle between them.

“Missed me, baby?” His fingers quickly made a path down her thigh to the wet spot on her thong. She whined in answer.

“Use your words, baby.” He ordered dragging two fingers over the wet spot and biting back a groan. “Joe, please.” He clicked his tongue again and pressed his fingers against her, this time groaning in pleasure.

She was wetter than he remembered.

“Daddy please.” He smirked and pushed the lacy material of the thong aside, he leaned over her and captured her mouth with his before gripping his cock in his hand and rubbing it against her pussy. “Look at me.” He demanded pressing his forehead against hers. Her eyes flew open and met his and he smirked, keeping eye contact he pushed his cock into her welcoming pussy.

“Fuck Livvy, you feel better than I remember.”

His statement came out in almost a moan and Olivia dropped her hand down to the one that was gripping her hip, the fingertips ghosted over his flesh to his fingers and interlocked them together. In an effort to keep herself quiet, she strained her neck up and fused their mouths together. Not breaking the kiss, Joe started moving his hips slowly, pulling and pushing back into her.

“God damn I missed you.” He panted against her mouth, his own voice quiet. It was almost like being back in college in the shared dorm room with Talbert asleep in the bunk above him, he knew that he wasn’t going to last long the first time around and he was okay with that, he just wanted her.

“Missed you too.” She mumbled breathlessly, “fuck Joe, missed you and your big cock.” He reached his thumb down between their bodies and pressed it against her clit causing a sharp cry to escape her, he paused briefly to make sure Dick or Lewis didn’t come rushing into the room or that she didn’t wake up Aurora.

“Shh baby, we don’t want the husbands to come in and see me fucking their nasty slutty wife.” She whined again and sank her teeth into his shoulder, to keep her moans to quiet. Her walls had contracted around him tightly and he groaned, “5 years later and you are still my naughty little slut hmm? I bet you only act like this for me.” Her muted whimper was enough answer for him. “Only yours. Only yours Joe.” He pushed himself deeper into her as she came around him, “Fucking love you,” He started cumming in her as she started come down from her orgasm, “ never leaving you again.”

“Promise?”

#ash writes #band of brothers fan fiction #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers mafia au #joseph liebgott imagines #joseph liebgott fan fiction #lewis nixon fan fiction #lewis nixon imagines #dick winters fan fiction #dick winters imagines

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bloodstainedsaint · 5 months

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the sniper (joseph liebgott x sniper! reader)

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

word count: just over 3500

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The men exchanged a look amongst each other.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Very astute, George,” someone replied.

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

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

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

“Hey, (Y/N), right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shrugged. “You’ll warm up to us.”

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

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

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

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

“Looking forward to it,” you responded drily.

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

You eyed him cautiously. “Lansing, Michigan.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lieutenant Winters.” You saluted.

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

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

“Met the men yet?”

“Some of them.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A short fuse,” Frank supplied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure, Bull. Go enjoy yourself.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me what you just said to her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it was all for you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #joe liebgott #joe liebgott x reader #hbo war #hbo war fanfic #easy company #101st airborne #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers imagines #joseph liebgott x reader #joseph liebgott #joseph d liebgott

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dissasociation · 3 months

Text

Imagine prompts

Hi guys, I feel like writing. Can someone give me a character and prompt to write about? Thanks!!!

#carwood lipton #richard winters #band of brothers #band of brothers imagine #bill guarnere #joseph liebgott #ronald speirs #george luz #david webster #shifty powers

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liebgotts-lovergirl · 1 year

Text

Fire On Fire: Wonderstruck Pt. 1

Gallery II Tag List Application II Symbol Guide

Summary: Maybe Alix and Joe were star-crossed from the start... A/N: Flashback chapter, my beloved. 🤌🏽Also, if you're looking for something to listen to while reading, I highly recommend this & this. WARNINGS: Alcohol consumption, like 2 drunk Antisemitic remarks, Trust issues Taglist: @latibvles @softguarnere @mccall-muffin @brassknucklespeirs @wwhatev3r @holdingforgeneralhugs @emmythespacecowgirl @auroralightsthesky

8 Months Earlier: January 8th, 1944. Aldbourne, England.

Alix had been training with Easy Company in Aldbourne for less than a week, learning the ins and outs of her cover as their combat nurse, and already, she had made enemies.

Firstly, her case officer, Lieutenant Nixon, seemed to be doing everything possible to trip her up so she’d get pulled from the field.

According to the Office of Strategic Services, her handler was supposed to be her mentor, someone who would be in her corner when no one else was, but instead, working with her seemed to only renew his determination to make her so miserable that she’d quit the venture altogether and go home to Pennsylvania.

And as if that wasn’t enough, Alix ended up being hauled in front of Colonel Sink to be scolded like an unruly child.

She knew they wouldn’t kick her out of the Sparrow Program for something as minor as giving a mouthy trooper a concussion so she hadn’t been overly worried.

The OSS needed all the good agents they could get since the Germans kept killing them. The military couldn't afford to fire intelligence operatives, even if they wanted to.

But being lectured on anger management for half an hour by an exasperated Colonel was still not exactly an enjoyable experience.

It was just simply not her week so when Bull Randleman pulled her aside after target practice, she was immediately tense, expecting to be chewed out for something she probably had no idea was even out-of-bounds.

"Hey Pyro," he called, lumbering over to her, chomping on his usual cigar. His tone was friendly but you could never be sure with a superior officer. "Mind if I borrow ya for a sec?"

"Sure thing, Bull!"

"Heard Sink really laid into ya for the Cobb thing," he began as they left the designated range area.

"But if ya ask me, Cobb was askin' to get tore up, talkin' to a lady how he was. It woulda riled anybody up."

He shook his head disapprovingly.

"That boy ain't got the sense God gave a goose."

"Is what it is, I suppose," Alix shrugged. "They're not kicking me out or anything, I just got read the riot act for about half an hour. They're not making me apologize, thank God, or I'd quit on the spot."

"Figures," Bull replied with a chuckle. "Most of the boys are real proud of ya though. I reckon Guarnere's even fixin' to ask ya for an autograph!"

The agent cocked her head, brow furrowed slightly.

She hadn't had the time to meet hardly anyone yet.

"Who?"

"Bill Guarnere," he repeated kindly. "NCO, about yea-high, dark hair, Philly accent, loud as all get out? Ya can't miss him. He was the one hootin' and hollerin' when you was scrappin' with Cobb."

Alix thought about it for a second but no dice.

She had been seeing red during the fight and the only thing she could distinctly remember was Bull pulling her off of the crumpled trooper before she could do anymore damage.

"Sorry Bull, I don't recall."

"Ain't no problem," he drawled with a paternal smile. "I reckon you was a bit busy tryna keep from killin' ol' Roy at the time anyway."

He snapped his fingers as a thought popped back into his head.

"But that does remind me, I was fixin' to ask if you got any plans for tonight 'cause me an' the rest of the troopers from Easy are gonna be goin' out to the White Rose Inn at around 7 or 8, if you're interested. I figure it'd give ya a chance to get acquainted with the rest of the fellas seein' as you ain't really been properly introduced to most of 'em yet."

"Sounds like fun!" Alix answered brightly. "What's the occasion?"

"No occasion," Bull responded with an easy shrug. "It's just been one hell of a week and I reckon we could all use a break. Be good for morale."

"Sounds swell," Alix chirped as she swiped the sweat off her brow. "I could sure use a good party. Thanks for the invite!"

"Sure thing," the older paratrooper commented. "I remember being new. It ain't easy. Gotta be even harder on you, bein' the runt and all."

Alix ducked just out of his reach to avoid him missing up her hair paternally, as he was wont to do.

"Watch it, Randleman," she said in a tone of mock annoyance as they arrived at the makeshift trenches dug on the opposite side of the field. "D'you know how long it takes to get it all pinned up like this?!"

The Southerner chuckled.

"I reckon you'll live."

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

For an inn situated in a relatively small village, the White Rose had a rather large ballroom and when Alix made her way in that evening, it was already teeming with life.

The worn wooden bar stools were quickly filling up with drinking customers and the dance floor was a blur of colorful motion. Shouts and giggles all wafting over the energetic swing music playing in the background completed the scene and Alix took a deep breath, feeling invigorated.

This is why she loved dance halls, parties, whatever she could get. The energy, the ambience, it was all so different from the prim and proper dinner parties of home. Even in a normally sleepy village like Aldbourne, you could always count on the visiting paratroopers to liven things up a bit.

Taking in the sights, her brown eyes roamed the scene for someone she knew when she thought she heard her name being called. Turning to her right, she saw Bull winding his way through the crowd with his date in tow.

“Hey there, Pyro,” the older trooper exclaimed as Alix shuffled past some locals to get over to him. “I thought that was you! Glad ya could make it!”

He introduced his date but the blaring of the trumpet section swallowed the name, so Alix simply exchanged polite “How do you do”s and prayed that Randleman might mention the girl’s name in conversation again at some point throughout the rest of the evening.

“The guys are back this way,” Bull called over his shoulder as they continued to weave through the crowd.

“Is it always this packed?” Alix asked Bull’s date with a delighted grin but the other girl shook her head.

“Not until you Yanks came along."

Alix had been about to respond when a bellow from a cluster of tables nestled toward the back cut her off and she looked up to see a man with sergeant stripes and a wide grin jogging up to them.

“There he is!” he exclaimed, reaching over to slap Randleman on the back.

“Where’ve you been, Bull, we thought you got lost!”

“Heya Johnny,” Bull greeted him warmly before introducing him to Alix and his date as Sergeant Johnny Martin on the way to the rest of the group. “Sorry I ran off but-”

He jerked a thumb behind him.

“Had to go find Pyro.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Alix responded as she extended a hand. “I’m-”

“Martinelli, the OSS agent,” Johnny finished for her, his grin widening. “Yeah, we know who you are.”

“You’re the dame that beat up Cobb, ain’t you?” a voice piped up as they arrived at their corner of the room, which was suddenly alight with a frenzy of discussion, of which Alix knew she was the main subject.

“They call her Pyro,” she heard somebody adding, “Ya know, like a firecracker?”

“I heard she gave him a concussion,” someone remarked conspiratorially and she could feel the stares. "Nearly split his skull!"

“Her? But she looks like a fucking debutante?"

"I thought so too but-"

Alix shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably, feeling a bit like a sideshow attraction. She hadn’t wanted the whole Cobb thing to become a spectacle. Quite the opposite, actually: she was more than ready to forget it ever happened.

Flying into a near-homicidal rage on her first day was not exactly her finest moment of decorum and she was still struggling to understand how people seemed to be proud of her for it.

“Yeah, that’s her,” Bull declared with a congratulatory slap on her back. “But she can be a deb and a brawler, ain't that right, Pyro?”

"Sure can," Alix replied, a nervous smile gracing her face as Bull and his date headed off to the dancefloor together, leaving her alone with the rest of the group.

Noting her presence, one of the paratroopers seated in front of her stood up and gestured to his chair with a practiced air of boyish charm.

"Here, take my seat, beautiful," he insisted with a cheeky smirk and Alix raised her eyebrows at the line. For a split second, no one moved, the whole table seemingly waiting with bated breath for her reaction.

Marone, she wanted to mutter. I’m not a fucking time bomb, guys.

But outwardly, she sent an appreciative smile in the direction of the trooper, who speedily pulled a chair up for himself to her right.

"Careful Tab," a shorter man a few seats down joked. "Get fresh with that one and–" he made a popping noise, dragging a thumb across his throat. "--she'll take your head right off!"

"I got it handled, thanks Luz," the polished trooper– Tab– remarked with a playful roll of his eyes.

As the table began to bubble with sporadic laughter and the hum of conversation once more, Alix only caught fragments among the voices.

“—seen Skinny?”

“—so I says to the guy–”

“— Lieb’s late —”

“— and I get a fuckin’ letter —”

“ — my folks are pretty jazzed —”

“— Muck and Malarkey—”

“— didn't even know the broad —”

“— shooting craps, last I seen—”

"So where ya from, Pyro?" asked the man sitting opposite her, his slightly-grating voice easily carrying over the din.

Sergeant stripes, black hair…short…loud…thick Philly accent…

This had to be the guy Bull had mentioned earlier, Guarnere.

"Philly," Alix replied absently as she tugged out a Chesterfield and began patting down her coat pockets. “Say, any of you boys got a light?"

All conversation came to a screeching halt as half a dozen eager hands thrust out towards her, tripping over themselves to offer her their lighters. She chose the closest one, a black lighter volunteered by a trooper to her left with silver-blue eyes who introduced himself quietly as David Webster.

"Bullshit," Guarnere scoffed from his seat across the table before taking a big swill of his beer. "Ya don't sound it. I’d know if you was from Philly.”

Alix cocked a manicured eyebrow and took a long drag.

"Clearly not," she remarked coolly, "because I am from Philly, born and raised."

"Yeah?" Guarnere challenged. "What neighborhood then?"

Alix sighed in defeat.

She knew the reaction that would come, the one that always came.

"Chestnut Hill."

Bill choked on his beer before letting out a low whistle of admiration.

"Jesus Christ, no wonder ya don't sound it."

Here we go, Alix thought.

"Fellas, we're in the presence of royalty," Bill announced jokingly with an exaggerated bow in the agent’s direction. "Ain't that right, Your Majesty?"

Alix took a long drag on her cigarette and ignored him, trying to focus on the smoke or the table or anything else.

She knew he was just kidding but it was still embarrassing. Growing up in the affluent neighborhood of Chestnut Hill in Northwest Philly was not what people envisioned when she told them she was from Philadelphia.

She’d heard from Penny that South Philly neighborhoods were close-knit and working-class, where everybody was in the same boat and you had to scrap together to survive. It was tough but it brought people together as a community. Your neighbors were like family.

Chestnut Hill wasn’t like that at all. Come to think of it, Alix didn’t even think she knew the names of the neighbors in the estate to their right and she’d certainly never had to struggle for survival. Her father’s business connections ensured a life of ease for her, so long as she did everything she was told… or at least, made it look that way.

Alix snickered inwardly as she peeled off her coat and draped it on the back of her chair, imagining her parents reaction to her outfit that evening.

Her mother would've been appalled but the paratroopers around her– some of whom were gaping like fish– certainly didn’t seem to mind it.

It had been another of her many pilfered gowns from a modeling gig. She couldn't remember which false name she'd given the photographer for the print– something nondescript – but she'd kept the dress tucked at the back of her closet ever since the gig, knowing full well that if her mother discovered it, it would be in the garbage by sundown and Alix would most likely be grounded for life.

She hadn't tried it on in a year or so but the scarlet silk still clung to her in all the right places and the skirt flared out beautifully like a fairytale gown. The only issue was the top, which was perhaps just a tad too small for her now as her ample chest was threatening to spill over with each breath she took.

Nonetheless, she had to admit, she looked pretty good, even if she was a bit overdressed compared to the other girls in their Woolworth’s tea dresses.

Suddenly feeling self-conscious, Alix tried to distract herself with some idle conversation, engaging with Webster on the merits and drawbacks of the Shakespeare authorship question when she happened to glance over toward the door and the agent felt her breath hitch as time seemed to slow.

The handsome technician she’d caught staring at her on her first day…the wiry one with the laidback swagger and the warm brown eyes...the one she’d been dying to speak to but didn’t have the chance…

He was there, just steps away, looking as ruggedly handsome as ever as he made his way over to their section of the room. But then Alix’s view was partially obstructed by Tab, who’d stood up to greet his approaching friends, casting the shorter agent in his long shadow.

"Sorry, we're late, fellas," the technician addressed the rest of the group dryly, without a clue that the slight rasp of his tenor voice was making the practically-invisible Alix's heart skip a beat.

"Skinny here—" she heard a small grunt and Alix guessed the companion had been elbowed or otherwise nudged, "had to get bitched out by Peacock for bein’ a drunken idiot last Monday, and guess who had to wait up for him."

"I said I was sorry," Skinny grumbled, seemingly more to himself than anybody else. "What more does he want from me, Joe?"

"Probably all the light bulbs ya stole from his lamps when you were plastered, ya fuckin' menace."

From the reflection in her water glass, Alix could see Skinny sulking, pulling a face that strongly resembled an exasperated river otter, and she bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud.

Joe seemed just as amused and as Tab shifted, allowing Alix to just barely be glimpsed, Joe caught her eye and shot her a wink that made her cheeks get warm.

“Well if Sober Wayne knew where Drunk Wayne hid the lightbulbs, then Sober Wayne would give ‘em all right back," Skinny retorted testily.

Retreating, he dragged a chair over to the far side of the table which resulted in nearly everyone having to scoot over one and him practically sharing a seat with a now-equally-sulky Bill Guarnere.

"How’d you even get in Peacock's room in the first place?" the handsome technician – Joe – remarked with a wry shake of his head, as he carted a chair for himself over to the table's end, next to Skinny and diagonal to Tab and Alix. "And what the hell did ya want light bulbs for, anyway?"

"You're asking the wrong guy, Joe," his exasperated friend answered, sounding defeated. "I'm telling you, Drunk Me is a whole nother person. Take it up with him."

“Well, drunk or sober, we’re just glad you two could make it!” Tab assured them breezily before shouting something over his shoulder about grabbing more beers and disappearing into the crowd.

Glancing over to where the technician– Joe– was seated, just diagonal to her from across the table, Alix found herself admiring how remarkably at-ease he was.

She felt like a fish out of water, surrounded by people she barely knew while the occasional stranger ogled her like a piece of meat.

But Joe…Joe was animated and engaging, trading smart remarks with Bill Guarnere across Skinny like casual blows during training.

It definitely helped that his intensity and charm reminded her of the male lead in one of those romance pictures they were always showing at the movie theaters.

He looked the part of the dashing soldier too in his uniform, with his thick brown hair now dark with styling product, finely-drawn features and the way those warm brown eyes crinkled slightly when he smiled…

He was smiling at her.

Oh no.

Suddenly realizing she’d been caught, Alix could feel heat creeping up her cheeks again and she was positive that she was as bright red as her dress by now.

She returned the smile but found she just couldn’t tear her eyes from his, and he seemed to be facing the same silent struggle.

The idle chatter around them seemed far away now and for a second, it was just the two of them gazing into each other's eyes from across the table, each searching for the right thing to say to the other.

He spoke first, leaning forward so she could hear him better over the noise.

“Doll, I’m gonna need you to quit that,” he said, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

Alix cocked her head inquisitively.

“Quit what?”

Joe scratched the back of his neck with a sheepish laugh.

“Smilin’ at me like that. I can’t think straight when you do and I need to get my shit together before I make a damn fool outta myself.”

Alix giggled and was it her imagination or did his face seem to brighten at the sound?

“Name’s Joe, by the way,” he added, sitting up a little straighter. “Joe L-”

“Liebgott!” Tab’s voice interrupted as he returned to the table, reaching over Alix’s head to hand Joe his beer.

“Only took me half the year but I finally got you one! The bar’s held up like you wouldn’t believe!”

“Yeah, I bet,” Joe replied carelessly, clearly waiting for Talbert to notice his disinterest and leave, but the spell had already been broken.

Suddenly feeling a white-hot pain between her fingers, Alix hissed and tossed the remains of her cigarette away with a muttered curse.

She’d been so out of it, she’d let her damn cigarette burn down to nothing and singe her fingers.

“You okay, doll?” Joe asked, his brows knitted with concern and Alix felt bad that he'd cut a seemingly miffed Tab off mid-sentence just to check on her.

She opened her mouth to make an excuse but of course, it was then that the band struck up a particularly lively tune she recognized and her head perked up.

It was “In the Mood” by Glenn Miller, one of her favorites!

"Hey princess," Guarnere interjected from across the table, already getting to his feet. "D'you dance?"

"If I'm asked," Alix hinted with a pointed look over at Joe.

So c'mon Joe, she urged in her mind. Ask.

The technician had just opened his mouth to say something when Bill interrupted with a winning grin.

“Well consider this a personal invitation then!”

And before Alix could blink, she found herself being whisked off to the dancefloor.

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

Even drunk off his ass, Bill Guarnere could still Lindy like nobody’s business. The quick footwork and energetic, almost jerky movements suited his personality perfectly and even a practiced dancer like Alix was struggling to match his sheer dynamism.

But the vivacious Alix was never one to turn down a dance, even if she wasn't particularly jazzed about the asker.

Joe, meanwhile, was leaning casually against the table and making small talk with a tall, dark-haired trooper whose name she didn’t know.

But every couple minutes, the technician would look up from his beer over to where Alix and Bill were, his expression darkening like a brewing storm as though he were at war with himself.

About halfway through the next song and another beer later, it seemed like he'd made up his mind because when she next glanced up, there was Joe striding towards them with a sense of renewed purpose and a look of determination on his face.

Bill, meanwhile, had been rendered blissfully oblivious by the unheard-of amount of beers he’d knocked back.

When Alix had met him, he was finishing his fifth and she found it to be a miracle he was still standing, let alone dancing as well as he was.

He had just extended his arm and half-spun, half-jerked Alix out across the floor when she reeled and accidentally collided full-force with someone who was just walking up to them from behind.

"Shit, I'm sorry!" she exclaimed as she stumbled into the stranger but he caught her easily in his arms, pulling her slightly to his chest for support so she wouldn't fall.

Seeing that it was Joe, Alix's heartbeat pound so loudly that she was positive he must feel it through his shirt.

"Don't be," he reassured her with a goofy grin. "Best thing that's happened all night."

Alix was suddenly hyper-aware of how close their faces were, the warmth of his breath ghosting across her skin, their noses nearly touching, and the way his eyes drank in her features like he was trying to commit every inch of her to memory made her train of thought evaporate.

Her lipsticked-reddened lips parted instinctively and she caught her breath at the way his gaze flickered down to them before coming back to her eyes and then darting down again.

Alix could feel her every muscle quivering like a bowstring about to snap, and she knew she'd never wanted anything more than she wanted to kiss Joe Liebgott in that moment but somehow, she barely managed to keep herself in check.

"Can I-" he started hoarsely, his lips nearly grazing hers as he fought to keep his self-control.

But Alix didn't want him controlled.

"Please" she murmured breathily and that was all the urging he needed. Eyes fluttering shut, his lips had been just about to brush hers when–

"Y'know the whole point of a spin like that is that ya come back, right?" Bill interrupted sardonically as he approached, a surprisingly bitter edge to his voice. "Not go suckin' face with somebody else."

Alix jumped out of Joe's embrace instantly, her face turning a bright crimson.

She'd forgotten Bill was even there.

But Joe paid him no mind, taking a step closer to Alix instead and allowing his focus to remain entirely on her.

"I ain't exactly Fred Astaire, y'know, but I'm still a pretty good dancer…" Joe said as he drew nearer, his warm brown eyes sparkling like smoky quartz under the lights.

"So whaddya say, dollface, mind if I cut in?"

"Not at all!" Alix answered eagerly, taking his extended hand at the exact same moment Bill stated loudly, "Yeah, I do fuckin' mind, actually."

"Good thing I wasn't talkin' to you then, Bill," Joe shot back, matching the NCO's tone of irritation. "The lady's made her choice and it ain't you so get outta here, will ya?"

Guarnere had already been fuming when he saw Joe embracing the girl he’d been dancing with and the snickers from nearby dancers served only to inflame him further.

Alix wasn't sure whether it was all the beers he'd had or the mortification that did it, but Bill lost it.

"Y'know he's a fuckin' Jew, right?"

The vehemence in his voice made Alix's eyes narrow instantly and she could feel Joe tensing beside her.

Rage simmered in the pit of her stomach like it had with Cobb and her nails bit into her palm as she struggled to keep it from boiling over.

She couldn't lose control again. Not in front of people who were already afraid of her.

"You've got three seconds to walk away,” Alix warned, her voice dangerously low.

She didn't trust herself to speak any louder without making a scene.

“Before you end up on a casualty list without ever touching enemy ground.”

But Bill was nonplussed.

"I'm just sayin',” he shrugged, slurring his words a little bit. “You got a real nice-lookin' rosary around your neck there, so you're Catholic. I'm Catholic. You're a Philly Italian, I'm a Philly Italian. We got a lot in common, you and me. But you wanna waste your time dancing with a fuckin' Yid? For what?"

"Call me that again," Joe growled, already taking off his jacket and throwing it to the ground. "And see what the fuck happens."

“Yeah?” Bill taunted with a barking laugh. “What’s your scrawny ass gonna do about it?”

“I’m gonna snap your fuckin’ neck is what.”

Bill snorted derisively at the comment and, feeling Joe start to move from beside her, Alix put her hand over the clenched fist at his side to keep him from swinging.

The technician jerked his head sharply to look at her, eyes blazing, but the agent pressed her lips together in a tense line.

If anyone’s going to get in trouble for fighting, her eyes said clearly. I’d rather it be me.

Joe grimaced but the murderous look in his eyes softened and when he turned back to face Bill, she could tell he understood.

The tension in his hand slowly released and on a whim, she lightly tangled her fingers with his in a show of solidarity, sparks seeming to fly from the brush of their fingertips.

Thankfully, the song had just ended and the sporadic clapping from the dancers around them cut through the tension like a knife.

“Y’know what,” Bill muttered acerbically, recognizing his own defeat even through his drunken haze.

“You wanna get your heart broke? Be my fucking guest. But don’t come cryin’ to me ‘bout it later.”

With one final scowl in their direction, he stalked off, shoving his way past a few onlookers on his way back to the tables to drown his sorrows just as the band began to play a much gentler, slower melody.

Distracted, Alix’s face instantly lit up with recognition.

“Oh, this is the song from that one picture!” she gasped, eyes wide. “ The one with Bing Crosby!”

Joe grinned at her excitement and gently pulled her closer to him, wrapping an arm around her waist.

“You’re gonna have to narrow that down for me a little, Ziskeit,” he chuckled affectionately, causing a rush of butterflies in the agent’s stomach at the sound of the word.

“‘Cause there’s at least fifty of ‘em.”

“It came out a few years back,” Alix trailed off with a bemused smile, taking his other hand in her own. “It was a musical comedy…?”

“Oh sure, yeah, that really narrows it down.” Joe teased, brown eyes glittering with amusement.

Alix rolled her eyes playfully and responded,“If it comes to me, I’ll let you know.”

“You’d better,” Joe quipped. “I’m on the edge of my seat here.”

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

“Do I want to be with you

as the years come and go?

Only forever, if you care to know.”

Joe was a shockingly good dancer, fluid but firm. He had an almost supernatural way of anticipating her movements before she made them, keeping them always perfectly in-sync instead of dragging her through the steps like Bill had.

Unlike Bill– who had been far too drunk to pay much actual attention— Joe’s soft brown eyes were always gazing intently into hers, as though he were searching for something deep within her, seeing straight into her heart with every glance.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” he pondered aloud, head tilted slightly as he gazed down at her. “‘Cause I feel like I’ve seen that gorgeous smile somewhere before.”

"Depends," Alix replied, lightly following his steps with her own. "D'you smoke Chesterfields? Or read pin-up mags?"

Now it was Joe's turn to be embarrassed.

"Uh…maybe both," he admitted sheepishly and Alix giggled.

"Then you've definitely seen me. I was in the Esquire calendar too. I model under different names, of course. My family would kill me if I used my real one."

"Wait…so I’m dancin’ with a real-life pin-up girl?" She nodded and a devilish smirk spread across Joe's face.

“Makes sense. I knew I’d seen you someplace besides my dreams.”

“Jesus Christ, what a line,” Alix scoffed but she couldn’t help the way her stomach somersaulted at his tone.

Not that he had to know that.

“Hey, I thought that one was pretty fuckin' good," the technician remarked. "But I can do better, dollface, just say the word."

The warmth between them was growing more powerful by the second, her heartbeat racing along with it, but Alix averted her eyes and pursed her lips as Bill's parting words came back to her.

"You wanna get your heart broke? Be my fuckin' guest."

Was this a mistake, she worried, a tempest brewing in her silence.

In her experience, good-looking, charming men like Joe, the ones with the roguish smiles and the silver tongues, they only wanted one thing and when they got it, they'd be gone, onto the next.

So why was she even bothering?

Because…

Because a part of her knew she was playing with fire but she couldn't help herself. She knew it would hurt but she still craved the burn.

“Would I grant all your wishes

and be proud of the task?

Only forever, if someone should ask.”

“I ‘preciate what you did back there, by the way,'' Joe murmured, the slight gravel of his voice bringing her back to the present as they swayed to the soft, flowing current of the music.

“Stoppin' me, I mean. I probably coulda got kicked out for fighting an NCO.”

“You definitely would’ve,” Alix agreed. “If anybody’s gonna be fighting an NCO, it’ll be me because the military can’t touch me.”

“Must be nice,” Joe replied wistfully. “How come the OSS gets to have all the fun?”

“Just lucky I guess,” Alix quipped easily.

Joe eyed her curiously as they swayed in time.

“What do you guys actually do anyway?” he asked. “They don’t tell us anything except that it’s ‘intelligence work’, whatever that means.”

Alix smirked secretively.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, flyboy,” she teased. “But if I told you, then I’d have to kill you.”

Joe raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah?” He gave her a small twirl, letting the scarlet skirt of her dress fan out around her like a fairytale princess before deftly tugging her back close to him again, returning the smirk.

“I think I’ll take my chances.”

“How long would it take me

to be near if you beckoned?

Off-hand I’d figure, less than a second.”

“Y’know,” Joe marveled as he led their steps with ease. “After all that, I just realized I never even got your actual name.”

“You never asked,” Alix chided playfully. “And I wasn’t going to throw it at you, in case it was unwanted.”

“Don’t you worry ‘bout that, doll,” Joe’s expression was too easy to read and Alix found herself blushing at his forwardness.

“‘Cause there ain’t a fuckin’ thing you could do that’d be unwanted.”

“Do you think I'll remember

how you look when you smile?

Only forever, that's puttin' it mild.”

“It’s Alix,” she murmured as he guided her through the steps seamlessly, like they were walking on air. ”My name’s Alix, with an i.”

“Alix,” Joe repeated, lifting his arm to lightly spin her again. “With an i. I like that. Reminds me of –”

“Princess Alix,” she finished for him and he nodded. “Of Hesse, I know. That’s where my parents got the idea.”

She made a face and added, “They wanted a royal name for the future heiress.”

Joe’s eyebrows shot up to the ceiling in disbelief

“Whoa whoa whoa, wait a minute. You’re a fuckin’ heiress and you’re still boutta go undercover in a fuckin’ war zone?”

Alix shrugged.

“Yeah, so what?”

He shook his head in amazement.

“So what? You could be anywhere in the world right now, livin’ the high life, but instead you chpose to be here of all fuckin' places. You’re really somethin’, y’know that, Ziskeit?”

There was that word again that made her heart skip a beat everytime it rolled off his tongue. Zee-skite.

She repeated it again in her head before saying aloud, “What does that mean?”

Joe’s eyes went round and he swallowed hard.

“What does what mean?”

“Zee-skite?”

He cleared his throat awkwardly, his posture suddenly stiffening slightly.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

“Do you think I'll remember

how you look when you smile?

Only forever, that's puttin' it mild.”

As the last verse wound down, Alix felt the slow creep of melancholy filling her chest, a squeezing tightness she couldn't ignore even through the clatter of applause.

You wanna get your heart broke? Bill’s words hung over her head like booming thunder from a storm cloud. Be my fucking guest.

Joe’s not like that, she tried to reassure herself silently. Bill’s just drunk and pissed off.

But when she looked up at Joe, she felt the tightness in her chest squeeze even tighter, like her lungs were being filled with water.

Like she was drowning.

With his warm gold-flecked brown eyes, quick wit, ferocity and rough-edged charm, it was easy to see why the women around them all snuck glances over at him, even over the shoulder of their unsuspecting dates.

What made her think she was special?

He doesn’t want you, something in her whispered. How could anybody want you? You’re just the girl of the hour.

Someone as handsome and charming as him probably already had a sweetheart back home, maybe several, all sending him flowery love letters and photographs for him to keep with him and sending wishes for his safe return.

A bitter taste now in her mouth, Alix knew all about unfaithful servicemen and their escapades and she wanted no part of that.

Her stomach twisted with guilt.

Had she unknowingly been flirting with someone else’s beau?

Did his heart belong to someone else? Was there someone– maybe even multiple someones– waiting for him at home?

Did he gaze wistfully at someone else’s photograph at night before he went to sleep, wishing to be back home in her embrace again?

Instinctively sensing her sudden discomfort, Joe glanced down at her, his forehead puckering with concern.

“You okay, Zees?” he asked, worry softening his tone. “Did I do somethin’ wrong?”

He was unbearably gentle with her, holding her as though she might shatter into a million pieces at any second, and she wasn’t sure how to process it.

He was funny, he was sweet, he was open-minded, fiery like her and far, far kinder than she deserved…He didn’t seem anything like a cad.

But then again, they never did at first, did they?

“Uh yeah,” Alix stammered hesitantly. “I-I’m fine. I just…”

She backed hurriedly out of his embrace, mumbling excuses.

“I…I think I need to go…Have a smoke maybe, I don’t know…”

Before he had time to react, Alix had already bunched the scarlet material of her skirt in her fingers and made a hasty retreat out of the ballroom, leaving Joe standing alone on the dancefloor, crestfallen as he stared after her in a state of complete and utter bewilderment.

43 notes · View notes

softguarnere · 2 years

Note

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

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

Thank you so much in advance!! 💖💖💖

Touch Me, Love Me, Can't Get Enough

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

Joseph Liebgott x reader

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

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

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

Other people's comments? Not so much.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Flash!"

"Thunder!"

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

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

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

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

"I'm fine. Are you?"

He nods. Reluctantly, he draws back from your embrace so that he can look at you. In sunlight, you love the way that his brown eyes turn into pools of amber honey. Now, in the darkness, they remind you of the new moon -- mysterious, but a comforting presence that never leaves you.

"There were some paratroopers back that way." You jerk your head slightly to the left. "Stuck up in trees. I was worried . . ."

"I know. Me too."

Off to your right, the sharp staccatos of machine gun fire pierce the night. On instinct, you both ready your guns and crouch down.

"We gotta move," Joe whispers. Then you both push through the darkness and into the bushes that he had stepped out of moments before.

He leads the way, but moves slowly, keeping you close. It’s like that the rest of the day, too, after you link up with other people from E Company and finally find where you’re supposed to be. It’s subtle, but Joe bumps his shoulder against yours throughout the day, like he’s got to remind himself that you’re near. That, coupled with the glances that he casts your way when no one else is looking, is enough to make your heart clench.

That’s the thing about Joe Liebgott – he’s great at physical affection and showing you that he wants it, but words don’t come as easily to him, and telling you what he wants and needs is an entirely different matter. You’ve always wondered if maybe a past lover scorned his verbal affections, because he seems so unsure of himself whenever he uses his words, which is so unlike the cocky, confident Liebgott that everyone else knows.

“What’s wrong?” You ask when you finally have a moment alone.

Joe immediately holds out his hand to you. When you take it, he intertwines your fingers and squeezes. He starts to shrug, but when he catches the look on your face, a crease appears between his eyebrows as he thinks. “I just wanna keep you close.”

“I’m right here.”

“I know. It just feels like if I can hold onto you . . . then nothing will happen.”

A memory of fellow paratroopers and their parachutes all tangled in the trees earlier that morning hits you. You had worried that Joe might be one of them, and he had worried for you as well. War is an uncertain and fickle thing. Anything can happen to anyone. You had accepted that fact when you joined the airborne division. Sure, you would do anything to keep Joe safe, and he would do the same for you. Having him by your side is a comfort, and you know he feels the same way.

Anything can happen in a war zone. But if anyone is stubborn enough to stop anything from going wrong, it just might be Joe Liebgott.

III

Nothing is guaranteed in a place like Bastogne. Least of all who you get to share a foxhole with. Most of the time your foxhole partner ends up being whoever was in the nearest one when a fresh round of shellings begins and you need a place to hide. You spend many nights curled up against your fellow soldiers for warmth, leaving the next morning knowing more about them than you ever had before.

If you had it your way, you would be sharing with Joe, to make sure that he’s alright. But as it is, you really only see him occasionally when you get to line up for warm food – a commodity that’s becoming more and more rare as the quality of it gets worse and worse. Sitting with the rest of Easy, he’s subtle, knocking his knees into yours whenever he sits beside you, or even kicking the side of your boot with the toe of his; anything to establish contact. There’s hardly any time to talk, but the longing in his eyes is obvious enough.

If you knew that you wouldn’t get in trouble, you would hold his hand, or wrap him up in your arms. Being away from him is hard for you, so you can only imagine what it must feel like for him.

“Funny, I always thought that hell would be hot. It’s a little colder than I pictured,” a familiar voice says as Joe drops down into the foxhole beside you. He winks. “Hiya, sweetheart. This foxhole taken?”

There’s no use in trying to hide your smile. “I don’t know. Usually I require a reservation, but for someone so handsome, I think that I can make an exception.”

“Come here.” He lifts his arm and throws it around your shoulder, pulling you into his side as you open your blanket and throw part of it over his legs before all the heat can escape you. The helmets you both wear cause some difficulty, but he rests his head against yours as best he can. He sighs. “I’ve missed you so much, (Y/N).”

You plant a small kiss on his cheek. “I’ve missed you, too.”

“God,” he groans. “I swear it’s killin’ me, being away from you.”

A joke he once made at the start of your relationship flashes across your mind. If you move out to Frisco with me after the war, I’ll have to invest in a better air conditioner, you keep me so warm.

“Why?” You tease. “Do you miss having your own personal radiator?”

A cloud of condensation forms as he huffs a laugh, his warm breath fogging the cold air. “You remember that?” He smiles when you nod. Pressing your helmets together again, he shakes his head a little. “No. I just miss holding you.”

You lean further into his side. “Well then hold on a little tighter. We gotta make this last before the next shelling starts.”

He rubs his hand up and down your arm. “We always make it count.”

“Oh thank Christ, look who’s back!” Luz exclaims when you walk into CP.

“We saw each other earlier, Luz,” Webster laughs.

“Not you.” Luz smiles at you, either not noticing or not caring about how it makes Webster’s smile falter. “(Y/N)! They finally let you outta the hospital?”

You smile as you drop your bag onto a nearby chair. “Something like that.” You lower your voice to a stage whisper, offering the radioman a wink. “Had to go AWOL. Don’t let any of the medics know.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” He winks right back.

From the couch, Sergeant Lipton coughs. He offers you a smile when he catches his breath. “It’s good to have you back, (Y/N).”

“Thanks, Sergeant.”

“Yeah, maybe now things won’t be so depressing around here.”

“Awe, Luz, you really think I liven things up that much?”

Lipton reaches up and smacks George with his stack of paperwork. He doesn’t look angry, but it’s clear that he’s said something that he shouldn’t have.

“What?” Luz asks. “It’s not like she wouldn’t know.” When you offer him nothing but a confused look, he shakes his head. “Liebgott’s been all weird since you got taken to the hospital back in Foy.”

“Weird how?”

“Oh, you know: moodier than usual, distant, quiet, quick to anger.”

“So just regular Liebgott then?” Webster asks.

George shakes his head. “Like, if someone tried to draw him from memory or something, I don’t know. He’s just not himself.”

“Well, where is he?” You and Webster are supposed to be waiting for someone to tell you which platoon to join, but you’ve already made up your mind that you’ll be damned if you don’t join your old one. This far into the war, it’s unlikely that anyone would really care if you just walked back in and took up your former place, but still – red tape, and all that. But now the thought is even more tempting. What’s wrong with Joseph? You want to find him.

Lipton offers a vague wave of his hand. “Around here somewhere. Listen, (Y/N), why don’t you join back up with your old platoon? I’m sure they’ll be glad to have you back.”

“And I’ll be glad to be back.” You nod your appreciation and then grab your bag, trying not to leave the room too quickly. During your time in the hospital, all you thought about was getting back to Easy Company, and back to Joe. Now that he’s so close, it makes you feel a little giddy and a little nervous, knowing that in a few seconds, you’ll be together again.

In the hallway, you go to turn a corner and nearly smack into someone coming towards you. They reach out and grab your elbows to steady you. “Are you okay?” Babe asks when you’ve regained your balance. His eyes light up as he takes you in. “(Y/N)! You’re back!”

“What?” A voice from further down the hallway calls. A few of the other Easy boys step into view, and quickly engulf you in a warm cloud of welcome backs and good natured handshakes. All except for one, who hangs back.

You catch Joe’s eye through the crowd. He looks like he’s just seen a ghost; he’s still, staring at you like you might disappear if he blinks. When you finish shaking Tab’s hand, you step towards him and it’s like a spell breaks. In a few quick strides he’s in front of you, and then suddenly his hands have come up to caress your cheeks as he takes you in.

“You went AWOL,” he guesses.

“I had to get back to my company,” you say. You throw your arms around him and squeeze him into a hug, whispering into his ear, “I had to get back to you.” He squeezes you tighter.

“I don’t wanna let you go again,” he whispers. You hear him draw a breath, like he’s going to say more, but he stops himself and rubs his hand up and down your back.

Behind you, you hear some of the boys quietly make their exit from the scene. (Most of them, anyway. You can hear Talbert telling Shifty that he owes him a dollar, and Babe is muttering to someone that he knew it – you don’t have to guess what it is.)

Joe doesn’t seem to mind. He’s always been open in his affections for you in the little ways in public, like bumping into you, and this very open gesture isn’t technically very different since it serves to confirm what most people already suspected . . . as well as telling some of the ones who didn’t to back off.

Still, it’s a little unlike him. Something has changed.

You card your hand through the back of his hair. “You alright?”

“Yeah, just missed you is all.” He huffs a small laugh as he pulls back from the embrace, casting a smirk over your shoulder. “And giving the others something to talk about ain’t half bad.” You swat his arm affectionately, but there’s no malice in it. This is just how Joe is when it comes to voicing how he feels; giving you a bit of his feelings and then deflecting before he can be scorned. You want to show him that you appreciate the effort.

You lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek. When you start to pull away, his gentle fingers catch your chin and bring you back into his orbit, pressing a quick, soft kiss to your lips.

As if he can read your thoughts, he assures you, “I’m okay. Better, now that you’re here.”

Hot, salty tears have been burning your eyes for the better part of the afternoon as you fight to keep them back. Back before the war, your teacher used to make you do breathing exercises in school in the mornings. You try to remember them now as you gasp for air, trying to look calm as you head back towards the town, following the trucks carrying to men back to CP or to where they’re billeted.

“(Y/L/N)!” Someone calls up ahead. In the back of one of the trucks, Nixon leans down, holding out his hand and motioning for you to hurry.

Despite how sluggish and out of breath you feel, you increase your pace to a slight jog, catch Nixon’s hand, and swing yourself up into the back of the truck, taking a seat beside him. His hand pats your shoulder but then stays there, like a tether that helps bring you back down to earth.

“Are you okay?”

You shake your head. You don’t want to cry in the back of this truck. There’s no shame in it, but the afternoon has been so hectic that you would rather have a moment alone to unpack the horrors of what you’ve just seen.

“It’s just as bad down the road at the women’s camp,” you tell the intelligence officer over the roar of the engine. Even just thinking about it causes you to shudder.

Nixon pats your shoulder again. “Do you need anything?”

“Where’s Liebgott?” You want to be held. You want someone to comfort you and tell you that this has all been a bad dream. You want that someone to be Joseph.

A deep frown settles on Nixon’s face. “We sent him back already. He . . . needed some time alone.” He thinks for a minute, then says over the sound of the trucks, “You should go to him, (Y/N). He needs you.”

And you, him.

When you got back to Haguenau, during a moment alone, Joe had opened up a little more than usual. It had been late at night, lying beside each other on one of the small bunks. Something about the cover of night makes it easier to whisper your secrets, and it’s especially true of Liebogtt. In the quiet of the room, his arm around you, he had said that he felt like one of the ruined Haguenau buildings while you were away in the hospital. “A skeleton,” he had described them. “They’re all crumbled and half-alive. I don’t know if that makes sense. That’s what it felt like with you away; like I’m something only half here, half a memory. Unstable. Lonely.”

That’s what you feel like now. The horrible things you saw have confirmed any thought you ever had about pure evil existing in the world. Anger starts to burn in your chest like an ember; this is why you’re fighting in the war. And if that’s how you feel . . . You need to find Joe. Now.

It’s tempting to run to the house where he’s billeted, but you don’t want to make a scene. You walk as fast as you can, only breaking into a run once you’re inside, sprinting up the stairs.

“Joe?” He’s lying on the bed, his back to the door. He goes still when he hears you come in.

Shutting the door behind you, you press further into the room until you’re standing over the bed. “Can I sit?”

When you take a seat, he pushes himself up and turns to face you. Red rimmed eyes and wet cheeks tell you that he feels the same way that you do about what you saw. The tears you’ve been trying to hold back all afternoon finally spill over, but your ignore them and bring your hand up to Joe’s cheek, using your thumb to brush away his tears.

He brings up his own hand to rest on top of yours. “You saw it too?”

You nod. “I had to spend the afternoon at the women’s camp down the road.”

Joe leans forward, pressing your foreheads together. “Did you have to tell them?”

“Tell them what?”

“That they had to stay in the camp.” Anger bleeds into his sadness as he says it. He sounds disgusted and hurt.

Almost none of the women prisoners you had encountered spoke any English. You and another female paratrooper had had to attempt to communicate with them using scattered English and a few German and Yiddish words that you had learned from Joe throughout the war. Joe is fluent in both of those languages. He probably had an easier time talking to –

The realization hits you like a punch to the gut: he had to tell them that they would be staying in the camp.

“Oh, Joey.” You throw your arms around him, pulling him in closer. Your earlier thoughts of wanting him to hold you feel almost selfish now, when he so clearly needs it. Carefully, you card a hand through the back of his hair. You desperately wish that you could do something to help him, but what is there to do in a situation like this? “What can I do?”

He gasps, harsh and wet sounding, and you wonder if he also held back his tears all afternoon. “Just hold me.”

That, you can do.

+ I

Joe is either a night owl or an early bird. There’s not really an in between. Some nights he falls into bed early, and then quietly gets up and takes his leave in the morning, ready to help usher the other early risers of San Francisco to work. Some nights he stays up late, wandering the apartment and smoking on the balcony until you wake up to find the bed empty, and then keep him company.

The nights when he heads to bed early are your favorites. You’re not sure when you started to notice it, but at some point you learned that, no matter how deeply asleep Joe seems to be, if you come to bed after him, he immediately rolls over and throws out an arm, searching for you across the expanse of bed. Once he finds you, he pulls you close to him, wrapping an arm around your waist and nestling his head on your shoulder. You’re not sure if he knows he does it or not. It might just be something that his subconscious automatically does. It might be a conscious choice. Either way, it’s sweet, and you don’t bring it up for fear that he might stop.

He's also taken to muttering in his sleep, which is a more recent development – he never did it during the war, that you’re aware of, but now you sometimes catch broken sentences and soft I love yous thrown out while he searches for you in the bed.

Tonight is no different. As soon as you slide under the blankets, you feel him roll over, and a second later, his arm is wrapped around you and he’s very close. You run a hand through his hair as you settle in, and his deep, even breathing momentarily hitches in his throat. His arm squeezes you tighter.

“You always hold me so close,” you giggle, watching his sleeping face. He likes to hold onto you, to have you near, and it must say something that he prefers it, even when he’s unconscious. A piece of hair has flopped across his brow, and you gently push it back so that you can see him better. He looks so peaceful when he sleeps. Not worried about anything at all.

Suddenly, you remember something he said back during the war. I don’t wanna let you go again. “Don’t worry,” you whisper, just in case he can hear you. “I’m not gonna slip away.”

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