#joe liebgott x you

[chasingstardustandmoonbeams]

Time Enough

Warnings: Angst? Cursing & I didn’t proof read

Word Count: 1,779k

Description: Time. There would always be enough time to tell each other how you felt. At least you had hoped. Time, it seemed would not wait for either one of you.

I blame me listening to Beginning of the End Movement IV by The Newton Brothers for the angst.

Time, you had realized, had become your real enemy. You never seemed to have enough of it. Every moment that passed you by seemed to go by in blur. Each smile, every laugh and tear, just flowed into each other. It was never enough - any of it. You wanted desperately to hold onto it, clutch it with your bare hands and never let go. To freeze all the moments that you had. 

But you couldn’t. Time continues to flow, ebb and bend around you. Every moment felt like your last. And yet, even with that, you couldn’t find it within yourself to tell him. To tell him that he kept all the fear away, brought in the light. Joe Liebgott was your person. The one that through all of it, you could confide in - run to. He was the reason you wanted more time. To freeze it. To stay with until everything else faded into nothing. 

You loved him. You loved him more than you thought you could love anyone. But you could never tell him. Not now. You needed to focus on surviving, on finding some way to hold on. 

Maybe if you had more time…even then you weren’t sure. You closed your eyes and let time pass around you. The warmth leaving your body, and with it the pain. 

If you only had more time…

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

The sun shone brightly overhead. You closed your eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun as it kissed your skin. You were laying down in a field, basking in the heat. You enjoyed the rare moments in time where it was calm, almost serene. These moments were few and far between - the chatter of the men around you made you smile. Faintly, you could hear Bull Randleman poking fun at Frank Perconte. A chorus of laughter soon followed. 

A smile tugged at your own lips, as the sound of bickering continued. The heat suddenly left you, it’s warmth replaced by a shadow. 

Opening one eye, you looked up to see Joe Liebgott grinning down at you. 

“Do you mind?” you asked, closing both your eyes once more, your smile never leaving your face. 

“No, not at all,” he teased. Joe didn’t move one inch, instead his stance relaxing as he stood over you. 

You let out a huff, sitting up. “Joe-”

“Alright, alright,” he laughed. Moving to sit next to you, he bumped your shoulder with his own. “What are ya doin’ out here anyways?” 

“Well, I was enjoying the sun and some peace and quiet.” You turned to look at him. He feigned shock. 

“Me? Ruin your peace and quiet? Never.”

You let out a laugh that only made to broaden his own. Joe Leibgott had wormed his way into your heart. Burrowing himself in there until he belonged to him and only him. It had taken him time, months, years of teasing, arguing, and talks. Talks like this, where everything else drifted away. It was just you and him. Nothing else mattered. 

“Joe?” 

“Mm?” He hummed, laying himself down on the grass beside you. He closed his eyes now, tucking an arm behind his head. He had a faint smile on his face, a gust of wind tousled his hair in a way that made you want to run your hands through it. 

“I got something for you,” you watched as his face lit up. He squinted up at you, the sun creating a glowing silhouette around you. Carefully, you pulled out your gift, enjoying the way his eyes widened. 

He sat up quickly, “No, shit,” he laughed gingerly, taking the chocolate candy bar into his hands. “How in the hell did you get this?” He paused, “No, wait, do I want to know?” 

You punched him in the arm, “Idiot, Euegene owed me favor. I can just take it back, you know. I’m sure Bill would be a whole lot more grateful for it.” 

You didn’t miss the way, Joe’s eyes darkened with annoyance. “You don’t have to be so dramatic,” he replied. 

Rolling your eyes, you turned forward. 

“Hey,” you turned back to look at him, a look on his face you couldn’t quite place. “Thank you.” 

You smiled back, laying back down. Joe followed after you. The both of you remained quiet, enjoying the silence and each others company. 

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

You were freezing, you had never known a cold like this in your life. Bastogne was its own hell. You were only stopping by to help restock supplies for the medics. Your help was needed at the aid station. 

Still, your presence did help to lighten the mood for most of the company. George Luz nearly jumped like a small child at the sight of you. 

“Finally,” he had said, “something beautiful, I was tired of looking at all these ugly mugs.” His comment, of course, was met by a chorus of groans. 

Your feet lead you eventually to Joe. He was huddled in his fox hole, grumbling to himself in annoyance. His eyes caught yours, the frustration leaving his expression, if only for a moment. 

“The hell are ya doin’ here?” He grumbled. 

“Restock,” you said simply. Shrugging your shoulders. You shifted your weight, Joe had been more short with you lately. You weren’t sure why, what you had done, but it was killing you. 

“None of the other nurses could do it?” 

You felt almost as if you had been slapped. You knew he was angry at you for some reason, but this? 

He must have seen your face. “I just mean that it’s dangerous here, you shouldn’t be here.” 

“Because my life matters more than any of the other nurses?” You bit back. 

Joe had a look of shock on his face, his jaw tensing as if trying to find the right words to say. “You know damn well you-”

You opened your mouth but nothing came out. Instead a loud crash and explosion rang out around you. You hadn’t realized you had been blown away a good few feet until your body collided with a tree. 

All the air in your lungs left you. You could hardly breathe, you weren’t sure if you could move. The only thing you could hear was ringing in your ears. 

You tried to blink back all the dirt and soot from your eyes. The trees swaying gently above you, you thought only of Joe - the look on his face. Was he angry with you? You wanted to tell him that the only reason you had come was so you could see for yourself he was okay - that he was alive. Because you loved him, you were in love with him. You just needed the time to say it. 

Now? Now you weren’t sure there was any time at all.

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

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

No. 

No, this wasn’t happening. Not to you, God, not to you. 

Joe scrambled his way out of the fox hole, ignoring everyone who screamed at him not to. It was you. It was fucking you. 

His whole body went numb as he screamed your name. Shouting it over and over and his eyes scanned the horror around him. He was going to find you. He was going to find you and you were going to be just fine. 

You were going to scold him like you always do, give him that teasing look that you reserved only for him. He was going to tell you why he had been ignoring you these last few weeks. Because he couldn’t hide anymore just how in love with you he was. That every time you looked at him, it was like you uncovered a new part of his soul. He was a different person when he was with you, a whole happy schmuck that wanted to spend every waking moment he had with you. 

You and he were going to have all the time in the world. 

When he finally saw your body sprawled across the snow like a ragdoll, his knees buckled underneath him. With shaky hands he reached forward to touch you, you were like ice. 

“Hey, hey, look at me,” Joe whispered with a shaky voice. “Come on, Angel, look at me.” Trembling hands, pushed back the hair on your face. “Please, please look at me,” he choked out.

“Joe,” you gurgled out, coughing blood.

“Oh, fuck, okay, you’re gonna be fine,” he quickly assessed your body, you had a piece of metal in your side, and blood flowing freely from it. Cuts littered your body, but your limbs were intact. “You’re gonna be fine, you hear me?”

“Joe,” you coughed, “I-” 

“Save it, please, you can tell me later.” His tear filled eyes searched yours. You didn’t look worried or panicked and Joe was sure what scared him more. “Medic!I need a fucking medic over here!” 

“Joe, please,” you were straining, your breathing becoming more labored. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he cried out. 

“‘M not.” You smiled, “I - I-” 

“Medic!” He cried out once more. 

“I-” you swallowed, “love -” 

Joe kissed you, fuck the blood, fuck everything, he kissed you. He felt like a fool for not doing it sooner. He was so damn scared of losing you that he didn’t realize he could actually lose you. 

“Joe, Joe you gotta move-” 

Eugene Roe forcefully pushed him back. His hands quickly work over your body. He watched your eyes close as Roe pushed the morphine into you. 

You were going to be fine. You both had more time. You both would have all the time in the world. 

You had to. 

You had to. 

———————————————————————————

Joe walked along the pavement. The busy streets of San Francisco flowed around him. Time had kept moving around him, slowly and quickly all at once. He thought of easy, of clear blue water in Austria, but mostly he thought of you. He thought of your smile, your easy laughter, everything that made you, you. 

He thought of that quiet day you shared. When you had the sun glowing around you like a halo. The sweet chocolate bar you had given him, of the peace he felt when he was with you. 

Nothing had ever been the same since he had met you. Nothing would ever be the same after. 

After…

“Joe?”

He turned watching you carry a bouquet of flowers towards him. You limped slightly, your breath a bit shallow when you caught up to him. But you were there with him. 

“I got those,” he said simply, kissing you on the cheek. 

After, there would never be an after you. There was only you and him- and time. As much time as you could steal.

#joe liebgott x you #joe liebgott x reader #joe liebgott imagine #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers imagine

[marycorleone]

A Place for My Head — Joe Liebgott X Actress! Reader!

Prompt: Ross McCall x actress reader the reader has a spot on Band of Brothers and she's 20 years old very young actress and she bonds well some of the other actors and its about her and Ross's life on band of brothers and her video diary and the reader struggles to fit in, in boot camp because of Captain Sobel.

Requested: @cokcola4112

Warning ⚠️: You will find mistakes in my write cause I'm English student and I'm writing in here for improve my writing and my studies and skills. Feedbacks are welcome. Remember: I'm only a beginner 😉

I was though about make it an one shot, but I changed my mind, and there will be more chapters!

Chapter I

You never could think you would be in Toccoa, training along with so many boys. You were an American actress, so didn't thought you would be called to the war. But now... There you were.

You and the Easy boys had just come back from the march that you did every friday night, when Sobel ordered you to empty your canteens. You and Pat Christenson had drunk your water, what made Sobel angry.

You always felt him hated all the Easy boys, mostly you, cause he didn't want a woman in his company. But there was more. You knew. You could feel.

But there was a guy who loves you since the first moment: Joe Liebgott. You found each other in that chaos, something that looked like irritate Sobel.

One night, when you already were on England, you and Lieb were together, walking on a road, when Eugene Jackson showed up.

"Y/N! You won't believe who went to your dormitory and... Lieb?!" He stopped when he seeing that you were accompanied.

"Who showed up?" You asked.

Jackson looked to Liebgott and you realized him didn't want to talk to you with Lieb along.

"Who showed up where? Come on, Jackson!" Liebgott was angry.

"Sobel." Jackson answered "He was calling you, but you were came out, then he left a paper in you room's door... And we opened. It's a letter."

Jackson gave the paper to you. You read and you stayed without words. Sobel had written a letter talking he had feelings for you and inviting you for a dinner... With him.

Unfortunately, Liebgott has read too.

"That bastard! So all he done with you was cause he wanted you for all this time! Fucking son a bitch! I'll kill him!"

"No! Lieb!" You tried hold him, but you failed.

Liebgott ran to the place that you all knew Sobel would be.

"Jackson, help me!"

To be continued...

#band of brothers #joe liebgott #hbo war #joseph liebgott #ross mccall #requested #x yn #joe liebgott x you #joe liebgott x reader #actress #actress reader #eugene jackson #herbert sobel

[serendipitysae]

Querencia ( Joseph D. Liebgott x Reader )

querencia/ kɛˈrɛnθɪə,Spanish keˈrenθja,keˈrensja/

noun ; querencia; plural noun: querencias

Sanctuary.

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

01.00 AM. 

19th July, 1946, Yuma, California. 

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

Feel free to stir together using your hands. 

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

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

. 

Yeah right. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I just..” 

You looked up to him. 

“I just can’t do it, Doll..” 

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

“Oh Joe..”

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

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

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

He nodded. 

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

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

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

“ I just .. well..” 

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

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

“What ?” 

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

“I know.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#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

[softguarnere]

*sheepishly pops head around the door frame*

hiii darling, it’s me again hehe

I hope you’re well and have had a great day!!!

So I read your Bill fic where he comes in all protective and calling the reader “my girl” and I LOVED IT!! And it got me thinking, if you had the time and didn’t mind, I would love love loveeeee to have like a protective one shot fic of a lad of your choice (I mean we both know who my fave man is but it is completely up to you as I love them all and it’s truly whoever you feel you want to write for and who fits the ideas in your mind)

I just love the idea of a man seeing his girl in a pickle and knowing shes a strong, individual badass who’s literally here fighting a war and can absolutely sort it herself but definitely being the guy who’s like “nah she’s my girl, if I’m around she doesn’t need to bother handling it herself cause I got her always” I just swoon every time (and if it involves just a littleeeee bit of jealousy too then wow that’s jsut *chefs kiss*)

Hiii babe! I'm glad that you liked that fic, because I honestly had a lot of fun writing it 💕

The way that I became OBSESSED with this prompt after opening my notifications is unreal, truly. Omg, I love this idea. And since I know you like Speirs, I knew I had to write it for him 😉 I really hope you like it, and thank you for trusting me enough to write it! 😌

Ares and Athena

Ron Speirs x reader

A/N: Me? Making up battles for the sake of my own plot? Absolutely. This doesn't really take place between or during any particular episode, so if you're looking for accuracy, this ain't it lol. This is written for the fictional depiction from the show -- absolutely no disrespect to the real life veterans!

Warnings: war, mild language, sexism, the inevitable typos that come with writing and uploading a fic in the middle of the night

This is Ron's favorite part of being in combat. The adrenaline that floods him when put into a high stress situation would make other men dizzy and unsure, but if anything, it heightens his every sensation and makes the world simple and clear-cut. Only a chosen other few would understand how he feels, and luckily, you're one of them. That's probably why you work so well together.

His heart swells when he spots you and a few E Company men in a small clearing up ahead. He stops his men behind him and calls out the challenge. "Flash!"

"Thunder!" You and your men respond, wheeling around to face him. Even beneath your cam cream and the grime that's smudged on your face, he can make out the relief that comes over you.

Relief is hard to find in a situation like this. The Germans have everyone in a frenzy, running wild, heading the wrong way, causing companies to split up as they try to reach their objective. Ron himself has a handful of his own men from Dog Company, as well as one from Able and two from Baker, and it looks like you and the Easy boys didn't fair much better in trying to stay together; he sees Bull and Liebgott, as well as Luz with his radio, and someone he only vaguely remembers from Fox Company -- a replacement, probably, based on his young looking face.

The men who know you also lose a bit of their tension. Having you and Ron together is like being led by Ares and Athena -- two fearless gods of war who seem untouchable in any battle.

"Afternoon, Lieutenant," he greets you when you unite in the clearing. "I assume that you've also had some trouble reaching our objective?"

You nod back in the direction from which you and the Easy men just came. "Kraut tanks have a strong defense along the tree line in the eastern part of the woods. We encountered a whole nest of snipers that sent us all scattering, and only a few of us managed to stay together. What about you?"

"Same story on the western tree line." Ron motions off to the left, where the trees start to thin out a bit. Beyond them, you can almost see where the greenery comes to a sudden stop, guarding the edge of a wide field. "Our objective is across that field, but we'd be totally exposed to the tanks on both sides if we tried to cross it."

A frown pulls at the corners of your mouth as you glance at the handful of men around you. "That just might be a chance we have to take."

Behind you, the man from Fox company scoffs. Your men roll their eyes at him, but Ron is surprised that you ignore him, choosing instead to pull our your map and begin unfolding it.

"If we want to make our objective in time to link up with everyone else, we're going to have to go back the way we came," the man says. "We can skirt the sniper, swing wide around the tanks, and make it to the other side of the field without the Germans ever seeing us."

"Snipers," you say without looking up from the map.

The F Company man blinks. "What?"

"Snipers, plural," you correct, turning back to look at him. "There's a whole nest of them. This forest is like their playground. Trying to sneak around them is like throwing a rock into a hornets nest and then hoping that they don't chase you." You gesture to the limited amount of men following you. "You saw how well that worked out when we found them by accident."

The man is undeterred. "I'm sure with some proper leadership we could make it through just fine."

Ron stiffens, but before he can gauge your reaction and react appropriately, Liebgott has smacked the man on the back of the head with just enough force to make the man reach up to touch it on reflex, even though his helmet probably protected him from any serious damage.

"The only way we'd stand a chance against them is if we had Shifty Powers with us," Liebgott snaps. "Which we don't. So why don't you shut up and stop questioning our Lieutenant?"

Even though you're still looking at your map, Ron doesn't miss the small smile that flickers across your lips. It makes him feel . . . strange, somehow, but he can't really place a finger on why.

The problem is that your relationship isn't exactly a secret -- it's just that you've chosen not to tell anyone about it. (The only person who either of you have told was Lipton, and that was only because he caught Ron kissing you on the forehead one night when you were all billeted in the same house. As far as he knows, Lip hasn't told anyone.)

Anyway, why should you have to tell everyone? Besides the worry that some of the officers higher up might frown on it and call it unprofessional, no one has ever said that you couldn't have a romantic relationship with another officer. And it's not like it's anyone's business but yours.

But there are times that Ron wishes everyone knew, because it might make things easier. Sometimes he thinks that if he were more casual and less self-aware, then he could joke around like the other men. If he were less conscious of holding up his front, then he could smack that guy himself.

Would you want him to, though? You're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, both in and out of combat. Defending your honor isn't something you've openly discussed as part of defining the parameters of your relationship. Now he wishes that it had been, though, because watching Liebgott defend you and watching you smile makes his chest clinch with a feeling that he hasn't felt since his school days, when he was always striving to make sure he wasn't outdone.

Jealousy, he realizes. He shouldn't be jealous of Liebgott just because he told the F Company man to stop questioning you and gave him a good smack on the head, and yet . . .

"Back in my company, I'm a sergeant," the Fox Company man brags. "It's not like I have no clue what I'm talking about."

"Last time I checked, us sergeants were below lieutenants," Bull says nonchalantly.

"What does that mean?"

"It means that you don't question the authority of a ranking officer."

Ron leans over the map you hold and lowers his voice. "Who is this guy?"

You shrug, keeping your voice down as the men behind you bicker. "Some sergeant from Fox Company. Patterson, I think. He's been like this ever since he linked up with us." You pause, your tone hardening. "Well, ever since he learned who was in charge."

Oh. One of them, then. One of the men who didn't believe in the female paratrooper program, who didn't believe that women could rise in the ranks, and who didn't believe that they should have to listen to them. Ron thought they had gotten rid of most of them by now.

"Ranking officer or not, I cannot stand by and follow orders that will put myself and others in danger." Sensing that he has no support from your E Company men, Patterson peers around to where Ron's men stand behind him and jerks his head, urging them to follow him. "We're going back the way we came."

Ron shoots his Dog Company men a glare, but it's unnecessary -- not even the few strays from Able and Baker have even thought about moving. No one is moving except Patterson, who's turned on his heel and is about to stomp back into the eastern part of the forest.

The map makes a strange sort of slapping noise as you throw it to the ground in frustration, causing it to land on a bed of dead leaves and sticks as you whirl around to face him. Any anger you felt towards him was well concealed until that point, but now, like any officer would, you've reached the breaking point.

A point you shouldn't have to reach, Ron thinks. When male officers snap at someone, everyone always says that whoever they lost their tempers at had it coming. But whenever a female officer does it, people whisper behind her back, saying that she lost her cool and that she's overemotional.

Maybe you can handle this on your own, and maybe you've never voiced any preference for where Ron should be during your more personal battles, but he makes an executive decision then and there, that no one gets to treat you that way. And it's not because you're an officer who deserves respect -- it's because you're his girlfriend, an intimidating and powerful goddess of war, and no one gets to doubt you.

He's caught up to Patterson in a few quick strides. Fast enough that the sergeant doesn't have time to register another presence until Ron has grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?"

Patterson's eyes must catch the name on Ron's uniform, because his eyes go wide as saucers and his face turns paler than the moon. He starts to stammer out some excuse, but Speirs cuts him off.

"The correct answer, Sergeant, is that you're mutinying. And do you know what we do to people who mutiny in the Army?"

The sergeant's eyes are still fixed on Ron's nametag. He doesn't need Speirs telling him what happens to people who don't follow orders -- he's heard the stories about what this particular man does to them.

"So I'm asking you again: where the hell do you think you're going?"

"Well, I -- uh, I --"

Ron shakes him again. "I'll tell you where you're going. You're going to fall into line behind Lieutenant (Y/L/N), follow her orders, and cross this goddamn field so we can reach our objective." When Patterson still only stutters, Ron shakes him. "Do you understand me?"

"Y-yes, Sir."

"Good." Ron steps aside and jerks his head towards you. "Now salute the Lieutenant and tell her how happy you are to follow any orders she gives you."

He looks like he'd rather kiss a frog, but Patterson's suddenly shaky hand comes up as he salutes you, and, as Ron ordered, tells you that he's ready to follow your orders. He's so shaken that he even offers to go out first, if it's what you would like.

"It's my plan, so I'll lead the charge," you say before diving straight in to explaining your plan for crossing the field. "Patterson, fall in. And the rest of you? Follow my lead!"

--

He doesn't really have to knock on the door, Ron knows, but it's a formality that he can't shake, no matter how long the two of you are a couple.

It's late. The house the two of you are quartered in is quiet, with everyone else having easily slipped into sleep after an exhausting day.

After successfully crossing the field and reaching your objective, there had been the matter of finding the rest of Easy for you, the rest of Dog for Ron, and returning the lost soldiers you had picked up along the way. (Not to mention that Ron had made a pit-stop to lodge a complaint against Sergeant Patterson for insubordination, and then another to ask Winters for the paperwork to recommend that you receive the proper accolades for the excellent leadership and professionalism you demonstrated when leading everyone to your objective.)

But even after all the excitement, Ron can't sleep.

You crack the door open and peek out. Realizing it's him, you open the door all the way, your smile inviting him in.

"Are you staying with me?"

He's about to tell you that he just wanted to check in, that he doesn't want to get the two of you into trouble, but something stops him. How can he know where the boundaries are in this relationship if you never officially set them?

"Do you want me to?"

"I'd like that very much." There's no hesitation in your voice. It's admirable, how sure you are of everything you do.

"I wanted to talk to you, if you're not too tired," Ron admits. He perches himself on the edge of your bed, but a second later he's leaning back onto the pillows as you find a place beside him, leaning into his side.

"What about?" You have a feeling you know, but you don't know why he wants to talk about it. Ron isn't the easiest person to read.

He's glad that he thought about what to say before finding you. Other people might have hemmed and hawed to avoid a potentially uncomfortable conversation, but he knows that you're going to get straight to the heart of the matter, just like he would.

"You're a very strong woman," he begins. "I know that you don't need me -- or anyone else, for that matter -- to fight your battles for you, but I want you to know that I will, if you want me to." Beside him, you crane your neck so that you're looking up at him when he says, "I'm sorry if I overstepped today. I just wanted to be the type of man who could take care of you."

Softly, you press your lips to his cheek. "You want to know a secret, Ron?"

"Hmm?"

"Even the people who appear to be the strongest like to know that someone has their back; that someone is in their corner, ready and willing to stick up for them."

"You didn't mind that I . . ." That he what, exactly? Transformed from Ron Speirs, your boyfriend, to Lieutenant Speirs, the legend whose name and the stories associated with it keep new replacements in check?

You shake your head. "No. I don't mind. I'm glad to have someone who would take up for me like that."

"I'll do it again, if I have to," he assures you.

"And I'll be there for you, too." Lightly, you press on his shoulder so that he has to fully lay down on the bed. "Not just to fight," you explain as you adjust the pillows behind you. "To make sure that you get some sleep, as well."

He has to laugh; the only person worse about following a sleep schedule than him is you -- part of the reason you first connected, one of the first things you found yourselves having in common -- but after the day you've both had, he won't argue.

As he closes his eyes to fall asleep to the sound of your gentle breathing, he thinks about the Greek gods, and learning about them in school. Because, he thinks to himself, Ares might have fallen in love with Aphrodite, but he much prefers you -- his Athena, his goddess of war.

#My life at this point is starting fics in the school library #then finishing them in the middle of the night and hoping for the best #I hope you like this :) #ron speirs #ron speirs x reader #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers fanfic #joe liebgott #joseph liebgott #bull randleman #george luz #my writing #ronald speirs #ronald speirs x reader

[mccall-muffin]

Will you? // Joe Liebgott x Reader

To my dearest bestie ever @liebgotts-lovergirl! I know you never thought of me as your secret Santa, but here I am 🥰 🥰 

I wish you the best and nicest of Christmas and a happy new year and everything there is to have 🥰 

Thank you so much for everything! I really am thankful for calling you my friend and my bestie! 💓

Summary: Just reader and Joe Fluff

July 02, 1945 - Zell am See, Austria

"Where are you taking me?" you laugh as Joe pulls you along. He blindfolds you and tells you to just trust him, which you do. You'd trust him with your life if it came down to it.

"Stop nagging now and let yourself be surprised," Joe says, holding your hand.

You can feel the stones under your feet, and the lapping of the water is getting closer. "I swear to you, Liebgott, if this is a stupid joke and you throw me in the lake, you will regret it!" Joe has to grin at your words. It's incredible how you can ruin a romantic idea with such a fantasy, but that's just you, and for Joe, it's perfect.

What would I do without your smart mouth? Drawing me in and you kicking me out.

"Why can't you trust me for once?" asks Joe, and you stop. "You think I don't trust you?" you ask, perplexed, but you hear Joe laugh. "You know what I mean, Y/N," he says, and you feel him standing before you. Joe shakes his head in amusement as he eyes you. You just can't be tamed by anyone; you're a free spirit through and through.

Then he walks around you and pushes you forward a little more by the shoulders.

You've got my head spinning, no kidding

I can't pin you down

"Ready?" he asks, and you just shrug your shoulders. "Since I don't know what for..." you start grinning, but then Joe already takes the blindfold off your eyes. The grin on your face is quickly gone. With your mouth open, you stare at Joe's surprise.

Directly by the lake is a small table with two chairs, which is set. All around the table are torches that illuminate the little place. There are also candles on the table, which is just highly romantic.

Joe is watching you, but he can't tell at all what's happening in your head, which makes him visibly nervous.

After what feels like an eternity, you stir and look at Joe. Your eyes glisten in the candlelight.

What's going on in that beautiful mind

I'm on your magical mystery ride

"This... Is that for me?" you ask uncertainly, looking at Joe. He's facing you with his typical lopsided grin, hands tucked away in his pockets, and he looks at you before nodding. "But why?" you continue to ask, and Joe bites his lip.

"Because..." he begins, taking a step toward you. He looks you in the eye and doesn't know what to say. "Because you deserve it," he whispers, and you still look at him in surprise. Then, to Joe's surprise, you step forward and put your arms around him.  "No one has ever done anything like this for me before," you whisper, looking at him. Your expression is gentle, and you smile slightly.

Joe quickly steps forward and pulls the chair out to let you sit down. Hesitantly, you walk up to him and sit down on the chair. Then he almost runs around the table and sits across from you.

"Would probably be even more romantic if I wasn't sitting here in the ODs," you laugh after a while, pointing to your clothes. Your hair is tied up in a disheveled bun, and you're not wearing any makeup. "You're beautiful like that too, Y/N," he says then, and you can't help but take his hand in yours and gently stroke it with your thumb. Joe pours you both a glass of champagne.

"You're too good to me."

"Y/N, there's something I've been meaning to tell you," Joe then says, and you can tell he's nervous because he's kneading his fingers. "What's wrong?" you ask immediately, looking at him thoughtfully. Joe looks at you gently before standing up and walking over to you. He pulls you back to your feet. "Y/N..." he almost whispers.

My head's underwater

But I'm breathing fine

You're crazy, and I'm out of my mind

"For about three years, we've known each other. From the beginning, you've knocked my socks off, even if, in between, I would have loved to slap you against the wall. Your whining or incredibly annoying habit of biting your fingernails nearly drove me out of my mind. But here we are at the end of the road. And I just have to tell you now: I love you, Y/N. With all my heart. You gave me the strength to get through this war."

With tears in your eyes, you look at Joe. "Joe," you whisper, wiping away some tears with your hand. He takes your hands in his and looks at you.

'Cause all of me

Loves all of you

Love your curves and all your edges

All your perfect imperfections

The tears continue to run down your face, and you try to cover them, but Joe takes your hand away from your face before coming closer and kissing your cheeks. "Don't ever hide! You're beautiful just the way you are. You always have been."

How many times do I have to tell you?

Even when you're crying, you're beautiful too.

Automatically you think back to the difficult times you both went through.

Normandy, when you had your first jump and wandered alone for almost two days before you found Easy Company and Joe, who held you in his arms for minutes when he saw you.

Holland, when you were wounded, and he sat next to you in the aid station and held your hand as Doc removed the bullet from your shoulder.

Then came Bastogne - your worst nightmare. The countless friends you lost. The depression you fell into, and Joe pulled you out of.

And finally, the concentration camp, where you completely lost faith in humanity, but he never left your side.

In all bad situations, he was there for you.

Nervousness rises in you as you see Joe reach into his jacket and then kneel in front of you. "Y/N Y/L/N. I love you. So much. I can hardly describe it. You are my angel sent to me in the darkest time of my life." Joe opens the box he is holding, and a beautiful ring is inside. "You are my life, Y/N, and I don't think it would be the same without you. You bring the color to this dreary time, and since I no longer want to go around being color blind..."

The world is beating you down,

I'm around through every mood

You're my downfall; you're my muse.

My worst distraction, my rhythm, and blues

He clears his throat. "Will you do me the greatest of honors, make me the happiest of men, be my angel for life? Will you marry me?"

Cards on the table, we're both showing hearts

Risking it all, though it's hard

Your heart stops for a moment, and you look at him. Did that really just happen? Tears come to your eyes again. "Holy shit!" You laugh, which immediately infects Joe. Of course, only you could manage to comment on such a romantic and essential moment with those words. "Joe Liebgott, you have no idea how much I love you."

"Is that a yes?" then Joe asks, and you just nod, "But of course! Jesus, you are my life, Joe! Yes, yes! Thousand times, yes!"

Joe's grin widens as he slips the beautiful ring over your finger, stands up, and gives you a big hug. "Jeez, I love you," he whispers against your lips before kissing you passionately.

Give your all to me

I'll give my all to you

You're my end and my beginning

Even when I lose, I'm winning

Cause I give you all of me

And you give me all of you

#hbowarsanta22 #Joe Liebgott x Reader #Band of Brothers #Joe Liebgott #For my love #tumblr besties #bob fics #band of brothers fanfic #all for you

[liebgotts-lovergirl]

Fire On Fire: Chapter 27

(Ch. 26.2) ... (Ch. 1)

II Gallery II Symbol Guide II

Summary: "I can accept the idea of my own demise, but I am unable to accept the death of anyone else." - Maya Angelou

WARNINGS: Death, Espionage, War, Survivor's Guilt, the usual

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

Contemporary: 11:30 PM, December 2nd, 1944. Liart, France.

“You do know where Liart Station is, right Nix?”

As the pair crept through the thick trees, Alix's whispers were underscored only by the subtle crackling of the frosty ground beneath their feet.

“You’re not going to get us lost agai–” 

“Oh Jesus Christ, let that live forever,” the intelligence officer griped in mock exasperation but even among the chirping chorus of crickets and the occasional crunch of dead leaves, Alix could hear the wry laughter in his voice. 

“How about next time, I complain and you can navigate. How’s that sound, Runt?”

Alix made a vague noise of acknowledgement as they trudged onward, her heart already beginning its heavy drumbeat as speckles of gold began to appear just beyond the treeline a few yards ahead.

The train station.

“Oh ye of little faith,” Nixon remarked dryly and if it hadn’t been for the thick blue lenses, she would’ve rolled her eyes and come up with a snappy retort.

But her mouth had suddenly gone bone-dry, all mirth dying in her throat.

She had bigger problems now.

Under the unforgiving glare of the station lights, there would be nowhere to hide. 

She would be a sitting duck.

It was a spy’s worst nightmare.

Alix’s joints seemed to lock for a split second but she forced herself to catch up with her case officer, slowing only when the hem of her dress snagged on the extended arm of a nearby tree.

“Cazzo!” 

Muttering more expletives under her breath, the spy undertook the arduous task of prying the delicate blue silk from the bough’s stubborn grasp.

The tree's taller branches rustled above her as she worked, showering her in puffy golden blossoms like tiny comets raining down onto her newly-auburn hair as Nixon snickered. 

"Less laughing, more collecting, wise-ass," Alix advised with a cocked eyebrow as she tossed a couple starry blooms in his direction and managed to ease the rest of the gauzy material from the gnarled bark. 

"Saves Donovan some cash on my funeral arrangements." 

“Don’t even joke about that,” the intelligence officer snapped before turning his attention back to the compass in his hand. “You’re going to be fine.”

 Alix would have rolled her eyes but the uncomfortable blue contact lenses stung enough as it was so she settled for an impetuous toss of her hair which launched a few more flowers into the chilly night air. 

“If you say so,” she mumbled but after hiking the skirt of her dress up to her thighs, she forged ahead, trying to ignore the nagging doubts dogging her every step into the night.

No one had told her anything about her mission partner except that they were a floater but that fact alone was enough to fill her with dread.

More of an asset than an agent, floaters were just temporary consultants with highly-specialized skill sets. 

Codebreakers, forgers, interrogators, radio operators, explosives experts, floaters hired by the OSS had talent on top of their respective training, of that she was sure. 

But they weren’t spies and that caused Alix serious trepidation.

How could she put her whole life in the hands of someone who'd never even been in the field before?

What if they froze when she needed them most? Then what?

How did she know they wouldn't sell her out to the Gestapo as soon as they got the chance? 

How did she know they hadn't already done so? 

She didn't, Alix realized as ice seemed to run through her. She didn't know a damn thing. 

What if–

“Knock it off,” Captain Nixon interrupted over his shoulder as if reading her mind. “I can hear you worrying from here.”

“Easy for you to say,” she muttered, tugging the thick mink wrap even closer around herself protectively. 

“You’re not the one walking into a trap, Nix." 

"And neither are you," her handler retorted testily.

“He’ll be there. Just remember the recognition phrase and look for the ring. You'll be fine." 

The notorious skull ring. 

The identifying symbol of a Werwolf Kommando, only gifted to the most dangerous of combatants. 

Alix didn’t even want to know how the OSS had managed to get one for her partner. 

“Hey Runt,” Nixon interrupted her musings once again but his expression was one of slight concern, though his usual laughter still put a lilt in his tone.

They were almost there now.

 “Loosen up, will you? Jesus, you've got the same expression as Dick going on and he usually looks like he’s being marched to the gallows.”

“Well that’s what it feels like,” she grumbled, her stomach churning at the thought of being in plain sight of the Gestapo with a 1 Million Franc bounty out for her capture.

“Hey.” 

Her handler gave her a light smack on the shoulder. There was a brotherly concern in her handler’s eyes but he tried to summon a lackadaisical grin anyway, which she appreciated.

“Relax, 'kay? It’s a mission, not a death sentence.”

The shriek of a train whistle cut off her reply.

It was not her train; she still had plenty of time but she still needed to get to the agreed-upon meeting spot before someone else. 

Hurriedly smoothing some fallen pine needles from her dress, her muscles tensed with anticipation as she made her way beyond the treeline and to the station door, leaving her handler behind in the shadows of the forest.

Alright, she said to herself, forcing an imperious posture as she tugged open the door. Let’s get this show on the road.

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━━━∆∆━━━━∆∆

If anyone had asked, Alix would’ve told them the worst part of being a spy was the waiting. 

Bathed in the yellow glow of the station lights overhead, she remained frozen on her solitary island, the few passengers in sight hustling past like a flock of seagulls without so much as a glance in her direction.

With every light puff of breath, Alix noticed her fingers twitch slightly with the urge to reach for the rosary that no longer resided there. 

Alix may have been Catholic, but "Tanya" was not. 

Her Nona Lucrezia’s rosary was stuffed into a tiny pouch buried at the bottom of one of her many suitcases, which had already been shipped ahead to Paris. 

In its place around her neck was a weathered golden medallion bearing the icon of Saint Nicholas the Wonderworker, a popular Russian Orthodox intercessor. 

The patron saint of deliverance from misfortune.

She could certainly use some of that right about now.

Feigning boredom, the young agent casually reached into her silk purse and retrieved an ornate silver lighter and her half-smoked pack of Herzegovina Flor cigarettes. 

Instantly, she felt nearby eyes on her. 

Locating the closest reflective surface, Alix clocked the observer: an elderly Frenchwoman in a patchwork skirt who was gaping at her as she shuffled her way past to the fourth bench. 

Of course people were going to stare, Alix reminded herself, trying to focus instead on the lime-green packaging in her lap, the name embossed in glinting gold Cyrillic font.

After all, she was covered from head to toe in diamonds, fur, and silk, not to mention she was smoking the priciest cigarettes in all of the Soviet Union. 

Remembering what Nix had taught her, Alix was careful to pinch the cigarette between her thumb and forefinger instead of how she would normally hold it– casually propped between her first and second. 

"It's always the little things, Runt," the intelligence officer had commented around noontime as he'd adjusted her grip on one of her beloved Chesterfields. 

"The stupidest little things can make or break an op." 

Making a mental note to thank Nix when she got to Paris, Alix took a long drag off her cigarette, enjoying the rich, earthy flavor. 

No wonder it was reportedly Stalin's favorite brand, she mused. The tobacco was of superb quality. 

Noting the time– twenty minutes till midnight – Alix scanned the scene as she awaited the arrival of her contact. 

Liart Station wasn’t very crowded at that hour of the night so he should’ve been easy to spot but none of the men in view wore the distinctive skull ring of the Werwolf Kommandos.

They're going to be late, she thought, gritting her teeth with irritation. This is why I don’t work with floaters.

She could practically hear her handler’s teasing sing-song in her head:

“One-time assets are just as necessary as full-time operatives, Runt."

Only the ones that take the job seriously, Alix thought bitterly. Which this one clearly didn’t, seeing as they had not received any word from them and it was rapidly approaching midnight.

With a huff of irritation, the spy went back to surveying the scene around her.

The gray-haired matron was now hunched over a book whilst a pair of businessmen stood nearby, commiserating about the late hour.

Moments later, a small gaggle of young women bustled past, causing one of the men to let out a rude wolf whistle.  

Clearly working girls, there were about four or five in the bunch, all with tousled hair piled high and splotches of rouge coloring their gaunt cheeks. 

Three were her own age, the other two a bit older, but they all had the same rings of exhaustion around their eyes that even heavy makeup couldn't camouflage.

No doubt, their workday was just beginning but the windy French night had no pity, battering them with icy gusts that their flimsy chemises and torn stockings couldn't hope to combat. 

The call-girls were shivering uncontrollably as they reached the 4th bench, the older two gathering the younger ones to them in a futile attempt to ward off some of the chill. 

A pit formed in Alix's stomach as she watched them.

It was a miserably cold night, the bitter wind nipping at her face, and she had a luxurious coat to protect her. 

The call-girls had nothing, nothing but each other.

How could she help them while still maintaining her cover? 

Hearing raised voices, she glanced toward the sound, where a harried-looking teenager in an ill-fitting blue uniform was scurrying two stairs at a time down to the platform below while an older man in the same uniform was shouting after her, shielding the edge of his coffee cup to prevent spillage as he made his way down the stairs.

The poor girl looked scared to death, nearly in tears, and seeing her supervisor bellowing at her over what was the most minor of mistakes was really pushing Alix's buttons.

Taking a languid puff of her cigarette, the spy yawned and nonchalantly stretched out a leg at the last minute, just as the supervisor was hurrying past her bench to no doubt continuing bullying his employee.

 

The Three Stooges could not have timed it better. 

The man's boot caught the hem of her dress and he stumbled forward, accidentally releasing the cup into the air like a baseball. 

The container’s soaring arc gave Alix ample time to briefly flee the bench, ensuring that while the occasional droplet sprinkled down on her coat like a soft rain, the supervisor was completely doused in his own coffee.

Howling, an expression of confusion and outrage flashed across the middle-aged Frenchman’s face but before he could get a word out, Alix seized the opportunity to round on him first, stepping towards him and snarling expletives in Russian with such vehemence that spit practically flew from her red-painted lips. 

"You idiot," she hissed, switching to heavily-accented French as she examined her clothing with melodramatic horror. "My favorite coat-"

"Madame, I-"

The supervisor had reached out, presumably to assess the damage, but Alix slapped his hand away with a glare so scathing that it would've made even Lady Macbeth run for the hills.

As the spy tore off the offending article, she muttered expletives in Russian before hurling the mink coat to the cobblestones and taking an intimidating step closer to him with a shrewish stomp of her foot. 

"The station will receive bill," she intoned with a final sneer before smoothing off her dress and stalking back to her bench, leaving the priceless mink in a heap on the cobblestone and the station supervisor fuming behind her. 

Noticing one of the shivering women inching her way toward the coat, small puffs of breath escaping her chattering teeth, Alix glanced away at the giant clock mounted on the wall. 

Ten minutes till Midnight. 

She had time.

Affecting boredom, Alix took a long drag off her cigarette and rose from her seat, heading toward the tiniest, most decrepit-looking newsstand she’d ever seen to give the callgirl an opportunity.

Keeping an eye on the last remaining travelers trickling their way into her periphery, the spy flipped through the latest edition of Le Figaro for the benefit of whatever prying Nazi eyes might be watching.

5… 4…

As she counted down in her head, Alix fought the urge to turn around and check.

Pick up the coat, she urged the prostitutes silently, still keeping her eyes trained on the newspaper in front of her as she loitered. Take the damn coat.

3… 2… 

She couldn’t wait any longer without seeming suspicious. 

1…0…

When she began to head back toward her bench, just as she’d hoped, the coat was being used by the older women in the group to shelter the others, all huddling to take advantage of the fur's warmth like chicks under a mother quail’s wing.

One of the callgirls–  was gazing over at her with tear-filled eyes, seemingly unable to find the words to express her gratitude.

Chewing on her bottom lip to avoid smiling, she let her eyes flicker away just as a couple sailors hurried through. 

The thin gold rings encircling both sleeves marked one of them as an Ensign, a junior officer probably just graduated, and Alix felt as though a boulder had been dropped onto her stomach.

╔══ •🖤🖤•🖤🖤•🖤🖤• ══╗

5 Years Ago: 30th Street Station, November, 1939. Philadelphia, USA.

"You're going to send Helen Astor into fits, you know," the eighteen year old teased as she jogged after her brother. "Leaving without saying goodbye when she's been pining after you for years." 

"Well I've been avoiding her for years," Giovanni countered, slinging his canvas knapsack over his right shoulder with a grunt, causing his uniform to rustle. 

"It's Dad who wants me to go steady with her, not me. She's not my type." 

"Have you told him that?" Alix inquired as she wove through the onslaught of servicemembers and their families, all crying and hugging as they said their final goodbyes. 

"Right," Gio snorted skeptically.

"Because that would go over so well. What would I even say?!

'Sorry Pops, I know you had big plans for me but I'd rather get eaten by a shark than marry any of the Astor girls so I’m going to run off to the South Pacific instead! Take my inheritance and shove it! Sincerely, your firstborn’.

Yeah, that’ll go over splendidly.” 

“You’re still the favorite,” the girl reminded him doggedly, a tinge of resentment creeping into her voice.

“Between being valedictorian, track team captain, and an altar boy, I think you could start robbing banks and Dad would still say 'Alix, why can't you be more like your brother?'"

She had expected a breezy chuckle and one of his usual witticisms but her brother let out a long exhale instead.

"I’m sorry about that, Passerotta. I know it can't be easy–”

“Don’t worry about it,” Alix interrupted, her tone sharper than she’d intended it. 

Gio raised his eyebrows but acquiesced and continued the dutiful trudge ahead. 

Jostling past a cluster of other officers, Alix gave her brother a wan smile as she tried to lighten the mood.

"Don’t let this go to your big head but we’re all gonna miss you.”

“Don’t I know it,” Giovanni remarked with a grin. “Between your crying and Mom’s, I thought we were all going to drown before we even got here!”

“Can you blame us?” Alix retorted, trying to keep her voice light. “You are going to be over 4,000 miles away.”

“Yeah, in Hawaii.” Her brother barked out a laugh. “Do you know what happens at a duty station that nobody's ever heard of?” 

Alix shook her head and her brother readjusted his grip on his knapsack, heaving the canvas bag over his other shoulder.

“Exactly,” he grunted, dark hazel eyes twinkling as they continued their walk.

“Nothing happens. I'll be bored to tears."

Alix quickened her steps to keep up with Gio’s long strides.

“You’ll have liberty though, won’t you?” she asked and he shrugged. 

“Once a week supposedly but how many times can a guy watch the same four pictures? Benji says-" 

Alix cocked her head inquisitively.

That was a name she hadn't heard before.

"Benji?" 

"A friend," Gio replied too quickly and Alix swore she could see his cheeks reddening slightly. "At OCS. He was…We were–" 

The train’s piercing whistle cut him off. 

“Well, that’s my cue!” he piped up with a tone of false confidence but she could see the sadness just behind his eyes. 

Noticing her expression, he gave her a light smack on the shoulder and yanked her into a tight hug.

Alix wished she had hugged him for just a little bit longer... But before she knew it, her brother was boarding the train.

Hanging his head out the window, he shot her that trademark million-dollar grin of his, and called out a joke that would still haunt her even 5 years later:

“Relax, 'kay? It’s a three-year contract not a death sentence."

╚══ •🖤🖤•🖤🖤•🖤🖤• ══╝

#Band of Brothers #BoB #Band of Brothers fandom #Joe Liebgott x OC #Joe Liebgott #Lewis Nixon #Dick Winters #Some implied Winnix if you really really squint & read between the lines #we love a parallel #HBO War #HBO War fandom #HBO Band of brothers #Band of Brothers fanfic #Band of Brothers fanfiction #BoB fanfics #FOFChapters #FireOnFire #Alix Martinelli #Joe Liebgott x Alix Martinelli #myworks #spy thriller #grief

[softspeirs]

I would love a Headcanon with domestic fluff with my man liebgott 🥺

Author's note: FIRST OF ALL wow you requested this so long ago. I'm so sorry it's taken me forever. Burnout is no fun! Second, this prompt got me in my feelings. I hope you like it.

When he opens his eyes in the morning, he almost doesn't remember where he is.

The sunlight is bright through the drapes, the window open and the gauzy material flowing in the breeze. It feels like a dream.

Propping himself up on one elbow, he assesses the situation.

A slow, lazy smile crosses his face when he sees her dress pooled on the floor near the door, a pair of heels lying where they were kicked off.

The remnants of his shirt and tie are there too, and a warm feeling bubbles up inside his gut. As if on cue, the door creaks open.

She's in a robe, her hair braided away from her face. She's got two steaming mugs in her hands, and a blinding smile on her face when she sees that he's awake.

"Morning." She greets, her voice raspy from lack of use. "Thought you could use this." She sets one of the mugs on the bedside table.

With the other in hand, she crosses the end of the bed and comes to the other side, perching on the edge on her knees, coffee balanced between her palms.

For some insane reason, the picture of her navigating his kitchen, his home... it makes him even more crazy for her than he already is.

He reaches for his own coffee, taking a sip, eyes closing in contentment. He has half a mind to suggest that she get back under the covers, that they just forget about the outside world.

It's been a year since he came home, since he stepped off a ship and had to face a world he didn't recognize anymore. It's been a year since he said goodbye to her in a crowded shipyard, trying to pretend he wasn't ripping his heart in half when he walked away from her.

He wasn't planning to go to the Easy reunion. He really wasn't. As much as he missed his friends, the idea of seeing them for a day and then leaving them again felt worse, so he planned on skipping it. But the idea that she might be there and he might miss her... he couldn't stand the thought. He really didn't have a good excuse either, because they were doing it close to home this year.

So he went, and she was there, real, right in front of him, and it was like no time had passed at all.

She had been sparkling eyes, sweet perfume, the brightest smile, and he was goner. He had been, years earlier, when he first laid eyes on her, but this... he was helpless to do anything but to take her hand, lead her around the dancefloor, and hold her so close he couldn't tell where he ended and she began.

One thing led to another, and then they were at his house, and it was all a blur of heated looks, soft touches, and complete bliss.

"Stop looking at me like that," he says finally, his own voice gravelly. Her eyes are a little hooded, but still sparkling, and he wants to stay here with her forever.

"Like what?" She tilts her head to one side, teasing.

"You're trouble."

"You knew that, though." She says, setting her own coffee down so she can slide into bed a little further, tucking herself against his side like she was made to fit there.

"Stay." He says. There's no hesitation, no second guessing, no brief panic that he's said or done the wrong thing. This is the one part of his future that he's sure of.

Her brow furrows, just for a minute. "Yeah?"

He nods. His hand finds hers. Intentionally, his thumb brushes over her ring finger. She inhales sharply, but doesn't say anything else. For a moment, every little interaction they've ever had plays on a loop in his mind.

He has been hers, right from the very start.

"I'll stay." She says softly, a minute later when they're both close to dozing. "All you had to do was ask."

#i hope you like it!!! so sorry it took forever #joe liebgott x reader #joe liebgott x oc #band of brothers fanfiction #prompt fic #softspeirs band of brothers fanfiction

[latibvles]

Hi bestie!! I am, once again, humbly Begging for #1 or #6 with Lieb, please 😅🥺🙏🏼

#1 — GOOD MORNING KISS. / send a kiss from this list.

He likes to start his shifts early, to really make a good buck off of all those sailors coming in the early morning on their ships. It’s routine for him at this point. Wake up, (begrudgingly) detangle himself from you, take a shower and start on coffee. Joe’s convinced he has this down to a science. Since the war, his internal clock doesn’t even let him sleep in as late as he would’ve liked, so it all works out, in its own way.

Eventually, you also pull yourself out of bed. He always greets you with coffee, has the way you take it memorized. By that point he’s dressed for the day, keys on the counter, and orangey-early morning light is washing over the kitchen as the San Francisco fog finally begins to clear.

Before the war, he honestly hated mornings, but he’d pull himself out of bed because he had siblings to support and parents to help out, so he did it without complaint.

Now, though, he looks at you and the scene before him is something that can only be described by those overly flowery words Web was always mulling over during the war. You’re a dream in his button down, hands clasped around the mug as you slowly but surely make your way back to the waking world.

“I forgot something.” Joe pushes himself off the counter, making his way towards you. You raise a brow.

“And what’s that?”

He leans down, kissing you sweetly, tasting the remnants of coffee on your breath. You run your hand through his hair and he doesn’t mind as he pulls away, giving you a smirk and a wink.

“Good morning, beautiful.”

#Joe liebgott the man that you are #i want to squish him like a stress ball #(affectionate) #band of brothers x reader #joseph liebgott #joseph liebgott x reader #writing ask prompt #poet’s mail box #poe’s pals

[next-autopsy]

I'm blind and didn't see the rest of the post about the WIP/ask game xD

How bout "A Hungover and a Confession"? That got me curious!

I hope you like!!

-----

“Morin’ ” Bernadette sang, sitting across from him with her own cup of coffee, hers was almost entirely milky white and loaded with sugar. Joe glared up at her, unimpressed, he hummed at her gloomily. 

“You drink a lot last night?” She was enjoying this too much, smiling at him with that bright cheery look. Ugh, he couldn’t stand that delighted expression on her face. He didn’t even know why he was so mad about it, it was probably the hangover. Definitely not the fact that he had been listening to her all but flirt with another man for the past twenty minutes. Not that he cared who she flirted with.

-----

Ahhh I'm such a tease! So sorry but also I'm not sorry lol 😈

#made of glass #fem oc #band of brothers fanfic #joe liebgott #thank you for the ask babe x

[chasingstardustandmoonbeams]

Cold as Ice

Repost from my old blog sohoneyspreadyourwings

Drabble: Word Count - 531

You were roused from your slumber when you felt the book that was tightly clutched to your hands being pulled away from you.

“’M still reading that,” you mumbled groggily.

“Sure you were, Sweetheart,” Joe laughed as he took the book from you, and placing it on your nightstand.

Seeing you open your mouth in protest, Joe bent down to press his lips against your forehead.

“Yes, I bookmarked it,” he teased.

Trying to sit up, you felt Joe gently push you back down on the bed to lay down.

“Go back to sleep, you don’t gotta wait up for me,” he said, making his way to his dresser to find a shirt to sleep in.

“And what if I want to wait up for you?”

“Well, then I’d say you’re crazy, it’s-”

“Crazy for you maybe,” you said quickly, enjoying the way Joe rolled his eyes at your comment.

“Really? You’re just going to spout cheesy shit like that?”

You let out a laugh that had his mock frown disappear in an instant.

“Don’t go stealin’ my job from me. Saying cheesy shit is my job,” he said pointing his shirt at you before walking into the bathroom.

You let out another small laugh before you settled back down into the bed, already feeling your eyes growing heavy with sleep. Turning to your side, you felt yourself begin to drift away.

Vaguely, you felt a dip in the bed before Joe pulled you close into his chest. Smiling, you snuggled further into him, only to be met what could only be described as ice touching your leg.

Jumping and letting out a small yelp, you scrambled away from Joe.

“What? What’s the matter?” He asked, a slight hint of annoyance and concern laced in his tone.

“Your feet are like ice, Joe!”

“So!” He yelled back at you as if that was a valid argument. Joe began to move back to you, his ice-cold skin brushing against you once more.

“Joesph Liebgott, I swear, if you don’t quit touching me -”

“What? You mean like this?”

Reaching under your shirt, Joe touched your bare stomach with his equally cold hands. Letting out a scream, Joe just laughed as he tickled you with his frozen fingers.

“Joe!” You pleaded between laughter. “Please!”

“Alright, alright. You know I like it when you beg anyways,” he teased.

Smacking him on the arm, he let out a laugh. Settling back down on the bed, Joe looked at you.

“I’m still cold though,” he whined, his expression growing softer to try and get you to cave.

“Fine, you big baby,” you muttered, wrapping yourself around him to share your warmth.

Joe visibly relaxed under your touch, his skin already feeling warmer.

“You know, Joe, you could have just said you wanted me to hold you.”

“That- that’s not what this is about.”

“Sure it isn’t.”

“Look-”

You silenced him by placing a kiss against his neck, a warm flush appearing on his skin.

“G’night, Joe,” you said softly.

“Night, Sweetheart,” he replied, a warm tone present in his voice.

Cradled together, you both began to drift away, the sounds of the city gently lulling you both to sleep.

#joe liebgott imagines #joe liebgott x reader #joe toye imagine #joe liebgott x you #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers imagines

[bloodstainedsaint]

the sniper (joseph liebgott x sniper! reader)

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

word count: just over 3500

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The men exchanged a look amongst each other.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Very astute, George,” someone replied.

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

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

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

“Hey, (Y/N), right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shrugged. “You’ll warm up to us.”

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

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

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

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

“Looking forward to it,” you responded drily.

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

You eyed him cautiously. “Lansing, Michigan.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lieutenant Winters.” You saluted.

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

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

“Met the men yet?”

“Some of them.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, sir.”

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A short fuse,” Frank supplied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure, Bull. Go enjoy yourself.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me what you just said to her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it was all for you.

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

#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

[marycorleone]

What do you think of a fanfic between Ross McCall x Reader?

#band of brothers #joe liebgott #joseph liebgott #ross mccall #x yn #x y/n #joe liebgott x you #joe liebgott x reader

[bellewintersroe]

enemies to lovers headcanons with nix, winters, speirs and liebgott pls 🥺? (love ur writing btw)

thank you!!!!!! I love this request omfg hehehe and I’m so excited to write it, I hope this does your idea justice 🥰🥰

Easy Boys x Reader ~ Enemies to Lovers.

Ron Speirs:

I wrote something here but I accidentally deleted it and now I can’t remember but oh well. I think something along the lines of the fact he’s superrrr intimidating to you at first.

lets say you’re a pretty friendly person, you’d think he was super standoffish and maybe a bit arrogant? Idk it’s a weird take but let’s go with it.

anyway you don’t really talk, but when Ron starts to notice you more often (he always notices you the whole time) he can tell you don’t like him or something.

idk but one day when he’s just like oddly nice to you, like overly nice you suddenly feel bad and after months (or years) of avoiding the man you feel a pang of guilt.

he’d probs offer you some cigarettes or his coat or something whilst it’s raining in Germany.

the small gestures when Ron is finally relaxing towards the end of the war become more common and you decide you actually never hated him at all, you just completely misread him.

lets be honest you’re probs still intimidated asf by him, like the first time you two are walking alone just one on one it’s nerve wracking.

hes a lot more gentle? And soft spoken that you ever realised, like you’re just discussing something and you’re actually taken a back at how nice his voice is? That sounds odd, but then you look up to him and you kinda share a smile and that’s the exact moment when you can pin point the feelings between you both.

“you know I used to be scared of you.” You’d admit to him after a night of drinking in the eagles nest.

ron would just smile and legit just KISS YOU?!?

“uh did you mean to do that?”

“yeah…. Did you not… like it?”

you’re kissing again and suddenly the idea of somewhat disliking each other seems so stupid, Ron was there the whole time, yet only now did your relationship blossom into something so sweet and beautiful.

Joe Liebgott:

The most PERFECT example of enemies to lovers ever fr.

like you thing he’s smug and arrogant and he likes to tease you, like he says ur hot when your angry but then you snap back and he thinks ur a bitch and then the two of you avoid one another like the plague.

if you’re all sat in the same group you can guarantee he’ll throw some snarky comment your way and you’d hit one right back at him.

“Drop the attitude doll, just cos you’re hot.”

Backhanded compliments? Sometimes they’re kinda confusing but they’re reoccurring from entering Europe, it’s like Joe can’t actually be mean?

idk but you two will bicker and even when the feelings of hatred and despair begin to fizzle ever so slightly you still keep up to the image of disliking one another.

“I hate you.” But side eyes to watch the other persons response u know??

the thing is, you match each others personalities perfectly. Like you’re both feisty asf.

it’s one day that you’re a little downbeat and Joe decides he wants to make a snarky comment to you (to get your attention/ watch your reaction) that his heart legit drops out his asshole when he sees you cry.

like he actually make you cry. Fuck! It’s gone way too far and some of the boys are like; “oh way’da go, liebgott!”

He feels super, super bad, but just thinks you fully despise him now so he avoids apologising to you. In reality you’re more upset because something clicks that you don’t hate him, at all- so when he made a comment on a particularly rough day it bothers you in a different way than usual.

Has it clicked that the two of you like each other yet?? Idk idk.

anyway I can imagine one day Cobb makes some rude ass comment to you, and just as you’re about to open your mouth to spit something back at him, Liebgott interjects, feeling some form of anger like no other.

“Hey, watch your fuckin’ mouth, Cobb. Why don’t ya back the fuck off?”

it catches you both off guard like uhhhh- do you acknowledge that Liebgott just publicly defended you?? It shut Cobb up, so when Joe is satisfied and a little nervous with his work, he leaves.

idk I just feel like it would make you wanna chase after him and when you thank him he’s super relaxed and just… open?? Finally, there’s no facade that the two of you dislike each other, not remotely.

the conversations start up properly, like for some reason Joe would be nervous around you, he’d be so calm and speak so softly you’d tease him like is that the same person?!?

teasing each other like crazy becomes more of a playful/ flirtatious thing and neither of you can deny it.

“you know doll, maybe you never considered the fact you’ve actually been in love with me this whole time.”

“maybe I have.” “What??” “What?!”

let’s just say the feisty nature between the two of you is shifted into the bedroom… maybe all the tension of ‘hating’ one another paid off?

Lewis Nixon:

Honestly I’m struggling to think of scenarios for Lewis and Dick because they’re you’re superiors, like both of them are extremely respectful and professional men, I’m not quite sure how you’d end up becoming enemies?? For the sake of the fact it’s fiction, let’s just make something wild up.

so maybe bcs Lew is a big drinker and you’ve warned him time and time again to cut it out, you get so annoyed at him you just snap? Like you’re a little impatient with him, but he’s also not really giving you, the company nurse, but regard in return.

lewis would probs sign and roll his eyes and just walk away and it’s kinda awkward asf, and let’s say you’re shy, you just kinda avoid him like crazy.

so there’s more of a tension between the two of you, like you sigh every time you see him with an alcohol bottle, talking about his rich upbringing. Even tho Lew is extremely modest and doesn’t brag, maybe you just get the wrong end of the stick/ misunderstand? Idk people are complicated.

I feel like even tho it’s awkward you two would end up alone somehow? Like you’re stood waiting and you’re kinda forced to talk.

“Look I know you hate me and all-”

“I don't hate you, Captain Nixon.”

The interactions kinda pick up after he’s divorced, like you end up helping him with an injury he gained after a night of boozing. You don’t lecture him but you’re a lot more patient and understanding.

and uhhhh this does something to him. Like he’s confused, whys he feeling all these feelings towards a lady he’s barely interacted with?

oooo one day the tension between you guys would become too much and he’d kiss you and you’re both like wtfff- but it feels so good and so right so you just continue.

You two become masters of having a secret relationship and when the others find out it’s super unexpected and everybody’s a little baffled cos they figured the two of you hated one another??

It makes a good story to tell the grandkids, let me tell you that.

Dick Winters:

Ummmm this guy, yeah I’ve struggled to think of a scenario where he’d ever be anybody’s enemy (apart from the Germans obvs). But personally, he’s too respected, too calm and gentlemen like for you to be his enemy.

in this case maybe it’s more of a ‘we once had a thing but he stopped it and now I'm upset at him’.

like before you get serious, Dick has to stop the relationship because he knows it interferes with fraternising rules. Working together and being in a relationship would never ever ever work. The army forbids it.

it sucks and because he’s such a nice guy that sucks even more, like you can’t even look at him without wanting to cry, so you just completely blank him and try to push him away as far as humanely possible. Considering the circumstances you’re under, this isn’t very easy, nor is it very achievable.

dick always keeps an eye out for you, even though you don’t notice, he’s always asking others if you’re okay and if you’re taking care of yourself.

ofc there’s bigger things to worry about than your relationship ending, so the two of you would probably end up being completely professional with any interactions you have.

ouch it hurts both of you, but neither of you know it’s a mutual feeling? The longing for one another is so painful considering Dick thinks you hate his guts.

after the war is over and you leave the army, only then does Dick call you up one day and tells you everything.

like he wastes no time, trust me, and you’re in complete shock, because this man who became a total stranger to you is practically telling you he loves you?!??

ugh ofc you feel the same and the relationship back to lovers kinda begins to there.

But fr Dick Winters ending a relationship with you is legit your arc to become a villian- it’s no surprise you go a little crazy when he had to end things.

all you can say now is how glad you are things actually worked between you both, and be enthralled by the fact Dick practically waited for you the whole 3 years he knows you.

#band of brothers headcanons #band of brothers x reader #ron speirs x reader #joe liebgott x reader #lewis nixon x reader #dick winters x reader

[softguarnere]

Hi!! 🙋🏽‍♀️ Local Liebgott stan here, humbly requesting some relationship headcanons for my favorite Joe pretty please?

Tysm in advance & also, welcome to the fandom!! 💖

Hi! Thanks so much for being my first request, and for the warm welcome! 💖

Dating Liebgott would include . . .

Ooh, this boy can be Jealous™️, especially when you first start dating

Before dating you, he had never been one for PDA, but after you guys get together, he'll casually sling an arm around you or hold your hand if he catches someone looking at you. The move just screams, "sorry, this one's mine."

During the war, he loves you desperately, like a man in the desert who's afraid that he might never see water again

After the war it takes some time for him to realize that you're not going anywhere. When he finally realizes that you've got each other's backs, he's a lot more subtle and comfortable around you

He likes to joke around and tease you about stuff, but Lord help anyone else who tries that. This boy has no impulse control, and if he thinks that someone is making fun of you, he's not afraid to throw hands on your behalf

On the subject of him being hardheaded: there's definitely a learning curve with him getting used to expressing his emotions and what he needs

If you guys have a fight, he'll probably close off for a while. He's the king of sulking and passive aggressive comments, but he can't stand being mad, so you'll probably come home to find that he's brought you flowers, takeout from your favorite restaurant, etc. as a way to apologize

He would never tell anyone this - he'd die if anyone found out - but this boy is secretly a total sap! (This is the hill I will die on)

Forehead kisses? Cheesy movies? Cuddling? He lives for that kind of thing

Late night conversations are his favorite. Something about being under the cover of night makes him feel safer with being vulnerable, so at night is when he's more willing to express himself

(It's during a late night conversation that he says "I love you" for the first time)

As a fellow Liebgott stan, I had a lot of fun writing this! Thanks again for being my first request!

#I wrote this at 2am #:) #sometimes you wake up with an idea #write it down #and then go back to sleep #joe liebgott x reader #joe liebgott #band of brothers x reader #my writing #band of brothers headcanon

[mccall-muffin]

Love vs. Hate - Part 1 // Joe Liebgott x OC

Next Masterlist Summary: Technical Sergeant Olivia Stark knows the military. Raised in a military family, a graduate of military school and OCS herself, she is transferring from the 82nd Airborne Division to the 101st. Between new friends and what appears to be foes, she becomes a part of Easy Company, 2nd Battalion, 506th PIR.

Warnings: Language

A/N: Hello everybody :) Welcome to my "big" Band of Brothers Fanfiction. I put a lot of work in this one and there will be a lot of chapters. Olivia Stark is my OC and we will get through her war days with her. @brassknucklespeirs thank you love, for encouraging me and for the read through of my first chapter! :)

September 1942, Camp Claiborne, Louisiana

"You really have to go?", Harry asks me and I nod slowly. "Yep, Colonel Dunn ordered it. I'm being transferred to the 101st." "Unbelievable," Harry says, shaking his head. "And all because of a little scuffle? I mean Johnson had it coming, if you ask me." "Dunn said if it was only once, he wouldn't have said anything, but... You know... Doesn't really help that my dad gets involved, either." Harry grins at me. "Once a week is more like it." "You don't have to say anything, do you? Mister look-at-me-and-I'll-slap-you-in-the-face! I still can't believe they put you forward for the OCS, and that's after they demoted you, wait... Six times?" "You're not the only one Liv... I still can't believe it, but they just think I have what it takes to lead people." "And I couldn't agree more," I laugh and put my hands on his shoulders.

Harry sighs and then puts on his cap. "I'm definitely going to miss you, kiddo." He takes me in his arms and I wrap my hands around his middle. "I'll miss you too, Harry." "Who knows, maybe our paths will cross again soon." "You never know, that's true." "Depending on where they put me after that and I don't like it, I may come back to you. Maybe your relations will still be useful then." I break away from him and laugh. "Well, I can try. Take care Welsh! And when you finally go to war... don't die, will you?" "Likewise!" He waves at me before I get on the train to Georgia. As I sit in a compartment, I open the window and look at Harry again. "What's the name of the place you're going?" "Camp Toccoa in Georgia, 506th Infantry Regiment as far as I know." "Good luck! And don't let them get you down. You may be a woman... But you're still the toughest son of a bitch I know." "Thanks for the flowers Harry," I grin and give him one last wave as the train pulls away.

September 1942, Camp Toccoa, Georgia

When the train stops, I grab my bag and get off. As I stand on the platform, I rummage in my breast pocket for the information letter from Colonel Dunn and read it through again. "Report to Colonel Sink," I mutter to myself and look around. There is chaos on the platform, as I am not the only soldier who has just arrived. I am used to the strange looks of the other soldiers by now, because I know that most of them have never seen a woman in uniform.

"Sergeant Stark?", I then hear a voice and look up. "Yes?" "I'm Private Barton. I'm supposed to take you to Colonel Sink." I nod and then follow the Private. "Did you have a good trip, Ma'am?" he asks as he leads me through the camp. "Yes. Long, but otherwise quite calm." "I'm glad to hear that, Ma'am." Slightly skeptical, I look at the Private from the side. It's rare that soldiers are so friendly to her right from the start. Most of the time they rather keep their distance and give her funny looks. But maybe Private Barton is just a friendly person.

He leads me further through the newly arrived soldiers, who are still staring at me, and then to a building. He stops in front of an office. "I'm going to take a quick look to see if the Colonel is ready for you yet, Ma'am. Why don't you have a seat," he says, pointing to a chair in front of the office, then knocks on the door and disappears into the room. I take a deep breath and sit down on the chair. My gaze is fixed on the office door, which is marked 'Col. Robert F. Sink'. I let my mind wander as to whether or not my father once told me anything about him. I can't remember. But Dad certainly wouldn't have me transferred here if he had a problem with Sink as a leader.

Suddenly the door opens again and Barton comes out. "The Colonel is ready for you now Sergeant," he says, gesturing invitingly toward the door. "Thank you," I smile and stand up. I enter Colonel Sink's office before Barton closes the door behind me. I stand in front of the desk and salute the Colonel, who also salutes me. "At ease sergeant," he says with a strong southern accent. "Sit down." I do as instructed and sit down in front of Sink's desk. "Welcome to Camp Toccoa and the 101st." "Thank you Sir."

Sink takes out a report and reads through something briefly. "You were transferred here with high recommendations Sergeant. Still, I have to ask: What happened to get you transferred here? It just says miscellaneous incidents." The Colonel looks at me and raises his eyebrows. "Well sir, it has mostly been minor disagreements." "Minor disagreements?" "It may be that in each case these have led to minor brawls." Sink is still looking at me. "You have to know, Sir, in my old company, not everyone was thrilled about having a female sergeant. And some of the men made me feel that. Sir, I'm not a person who gets handsy on my own, but I don't put up with everything either." "I should hope so, Sergeant. Respect is very important to me. Your father speaks only highly of you. I can understand that it's not easy for you and I also hope that you continue to not put up with everything." He takes out another paper. "I have decided to assign you to Easy Company of the 2nd Battalion under the command of 1st Lieutenant Herbert Sobel. He is strict, I can assure you, but under his leadership this company will be the best the 101st has ever seen. Lieutenant Sobel has already been briefed. I must warn you, however. Sobel will not give you special treatment." "I don't want him to, Sir." "I expected nothing less from you. Report to Lieutenant Winters. He will assign you to your barracks and your platoon and explain everything else. Private Barton will take you to him." "Thank you Sir." I salute him and then leave his office.

Barton leads me into another building and then knocks on a door before opening it. "Lieutenant Winters, Lieutenant Nixon. This is Sergeant Stark," he says, and Liv steps into the room behind him. A dark-haired man and a red-haired man stand in front of her and stare at her for a moment before the red-haired one, labeled 'Winters,' clears his throat briefly. "Right, our transfer from 82nd." He extends his hand to me and I take it. "2nd Lieutenant Richard Winters and this is Lieutenant Lewis Nixon", he says and I smile at them. "Sergeant Olivia Stark. Nice to meet you." "Likewise," Winters says, smiling at her. Nixon is still staring at me, which is why I look franged at Winters. "Hey, Nix. Snap out of it, will you?" says Winters, and Nixon shakes her head. "Sorry. I just... I've never seen a woman in uniform before," Nixon then says and I smirk. "I get that a lot. No worries."

"Well, let me show you to your quarters. I assume you are aware that you will be sharing these with the men, right?" "Of course Sir," I say. "This is not the first time. I was in military school and in the company in the 82nd I didn't have any special treatment either. Which I don't even want, Sir." "Good, good. Come with me, then." Winters leads me back outside and then over to some barracks. He opens the door of one and the conversations, which were in full swing a moment ago, immediately fall silent. The men stand quietly by their beds. "At ease soldiers," Winters says, and the men stir. "This is Sergeant Olivia Stark. She was transferred here from the 82nd. I hope you treat her with the respect she deserves. Sergeant Lipton?" he then calls out and a man with brown hair steps forward. "Lieutenant Winters, Sir." "Your responsibility." "Yes, sir." Winters turns back to me. "Sergeant Lipton will explain everything else to you." I nod and salute him. He salutes me as well and then leaves the barracks.

Sergeant Lipton walks up to me and smiles at me. "Carwood Lipton," he says kindly, extending his hand to me. "Olivia Stark," I say, also smiling. "Here, this bed is free," he then explains, pointing to a vacant cot. I place my bag on it and briefly look into the eyes of the men next to me.

On my left, a black-haired soldier has thrown himself back on his cot and is reading a Flash Gordon comic. I look at him briefly, but he doesn't seem to intend to talk to me. I shrug and look to my other side, where a friendly-looking brown-haired man, with equally brown eyes, is grinning at me. "Hi," he says, grinning. "Hello," I return, slightly skeptical. Then he stands up, wipes his hands briefly on his uniform, and then extends one to me. "George Luz," he introduces himself. "Olivia Stark," I say, and he's still grinning. "Got that." "You better change into your OD's now. Sobel is expecting us at the drill site at 1300," Lipton then interjects. "Oh and Olivia, 2nd Platoon, okay?"

I nod and sit down on the bed. As I'm taking off my boots, I notice the soldier across from me looking at me. I look up and look into his brown friendly eyes. He smiles kindly and then stands up before putting on his helmet and following the others. The soldier next to me has also gotten up in the meantime and follows the others out. I quickly change, grab my helmet, my weapon and run out as well.

I stand behind Winters and in front of the men and look briefly at Lipton, who nods barely noticeably. In the heat we stand there and wait. It looks like Sobel is making us wait. Suddenly, however, I hear a voice and stand up straight.

"You people are in the position of attention," calls a rough man wearing a leather jacket who stands in front of us. He lets his gaze glide through the men and lingers briefly on me, but says nothing. Then he stands in front of a small southern-looking soldier. "Private Perconte, do you have your pants over your boots like a paratrooper?" he asks, and the private holds his rifle forward. "No, Sir." "Then explain the creases at the bottom," Sobel demands, and I already know he's an ass. "No excuse, Sir." "Volunteering for the paratrooper infantry is one thing, Perconte, but you've got a long way to go to prove you belong here. Your weekend pass will be revoked," he then says, before moving on to the soldier who introduced himself to me as George Luz. 

"Name," Sobel demands. "Luz, George." "Dirt in the rear sight opening. Pass revoked," Sobel says, then continues walking through the men. At Lipton's side, he stops and I look over at him nervously for a moment. "When did you sew on those chevrons, Sergeant Lipton?" asks Sobel. "Yesterday, Sir." "Long enough to notice this. Revoked." "Sir," Lipton says, and as Sobel continues, he looks at me briefly. I press my lips together sympathetically for a moment.

"Name." "Malarkey, Donald G." I look to the side for a moment and Sobel is now talking to the soldier who smiled at me earlier from the cot across from me. "Malarkey? Malarkey is slang for bullshit, isn't it?" asks Sobel. I have to hand it to these men. They give themselves that shit. "Yes, sir." "Rust on the butt plate hinge spring. Private Bullshit. Revoked." I quickly turn my gaze back to the front, hoping I haven't drawn attention to myself. But I was hoping for nothing.

Sobel stands in front of me and muscles me. Then he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before reading my name tag. "Sergeant Stark, is it?" "Yes, sir," I reply, continuing to stare straight ahead. "Yes, yes... Our transfer from the 82nd... I'm going to tell you something now, Sergeant, and I'm not going to repeat it. If you think you're going to get any kind of special treatment here, I'm going to have to disappoint you. You're a soldier here, just like any other. Understood?" "Yes, Sir." He eyes me again before continuing.

"Name." "Liebgott, Joseph D., sir." I turn my head to see Sobel now facing my other bedmate. Liebgott..."Rusty bayonet, Liebgott. You wanna kill Germans?" "Yes, sir." "Not with this," Sobel says, then steps back in front of the company. "I wouldn't take this rusty piece of shit to war, and I won't take you to war in your condition. Thanks to these men and their infractions, every man or woman in the company who had a weekend pass has now lost it," Sobel shouts, looking at me intensely to make it clear that he doesn't like it at all that he now has to watch me all the time. "Get your PT gear on, we're running Currahee." Sobel walks away and Winters turns to us in front. "Second Platoon, move out. You have two minutes."

I and the men quickly run back to the barracks. A trick, which I already learned in my old company, is to wear the PT gear already under the OD's, then one can take off only the upper layer. My gaze briefly wanders to Liebgott, who is also changing next to me, but continues to ignore me. He is handsome, you have to give him that. I quickly discard the thoughts as I take off my pants and straighten the shorts underneath. Again I feel the looks of the men on me. They have probably rarely seen so much leg of a woman in public. But as Sobel said, I don't get any special treatment here either and that's completely fine, but it also means that the shorts are pretty short and the shirts are too big for me. I look briefly at Malarkey, who is eyeing me, but as soon as he realizes that I know he's eyeing me, he averts his gaze.

"Olivia?" I hear Lipton call out, looking at me urgently. "We're going through the barracks. Come on," he says, and I follow him outside. As I walk, I tie my long blond hair into a high ponytail. I follow Lipton quickly into the barracks next to us, since ours is already complete. "You can call me Liv," I say hastily, and Lipton smiles at me. "Lip," is all he says, and I nod.

We step into the barrack next to ours together. The first thing I notice is that Perconte is in his training uniform but still has his jacket on and is angrily ranting something. As soon as we enter, Lip already speaks up. "Alright, let's go. On the road, in PT formation. Let's move, move, move." His gaze also falls on Perconte. "Perconte, let's go, Perconte." The latter looks briefly from me to Lip before angrily taking off his jacket and throwing it on his bed and walking outside. I look after him with satisfaction, but then my eyes fall on a soldier still in his OD's sitting on his cot. Lip looks at me for a moment before addressing the soldier. "Private White, why are you not in your PT gear?" he asks him, but receives no response. "I asked you a question, Private." Again Lip looks at me and I just shrug. I've heard before that in the Airborne, many of the soldiers don't last. I see Lip take a deep breath and then shake his head before ordering me outside.

Outside we follow the other men who are already getting ready to run. Lip and I walk behind the other men, who seem to be annoyed, but continue anyway. "Ah, Easy Company. Hey, while you're running, don't worry, we'll take your dames to the movies for you," says a soldier from another company. "Yeah, good, they need some female company," Liebgott quickly replies and I can't help grinning, but then the soldier spots me. "Oh hey, maybe we'll just take her out? What do you say, Darling? Then you'd have a real man for once," he says suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows. I frown and look at him. "And that's supposed to impress me now? I wouldn't even go out with you if you were the last man on earth," I just say and jostle him as I walk by, making my men laugh. "That's right! Give it to them," laughs Malarkey, who is now suddenly running beside me.

I look over at him and grin. "You just can't put up with everything," I say, and he nods. "That's right. I'm Don, by the way," he says and I nod. "Nice to meet you. I'm Liv." "I'll tell you one thing. You've got some serious balls coming into this company." "It's not like I have a choice, right?" "True. Still... but you could always leave ." "I could, but I don't want to. I grew up with the Army, which is why all this is only half bad. Even Sobel..." "We'll see about that," Don quips, winking at me. "I'll ask you again after Currahee. You can get used to it. Three miles up, three miles down." "If that's all it is," I wink at Don and he laughs up. "Big mouth, it seems, huh?" "Kind of been trained to be... As a woman in the Army, you have to be, to fight back." "True again. And yet, I think you'll soon wish you'd stayed with the 82nd." "That's where you're wrong Don... I think it's best that I'm with you now. Even though not everyone seems to be thrilled about it." I point my head at Liebgott and Don smirks. "Don't worry about it. Liebgott is just like that... Even he will come around to the idea." "We'll see."

When we get back to the bottom, I'm drenched in sweat. I lie down on my back on the grass and stretch my arms from me. "Okay... you were right Don. This mountain is a fucking bitch!" "Told you so," Don says, propped up on his thighs beside me, breathing heavily. "You held your own, though," a new voice interjects. "The first time I had to run up there, I almost collapsed." I prop myself up on my elbows and look up at the soldier. "That's reassuring," I grin. He holds out his hand and I take it. "Warren Muck, but most people call me Skip," he says with a smile. "Olivia Stark... But call me Liv," I say, also smiling. "Have you asked her yet Malark?", Muck then turns to Don. "No not yet...", he says and then looks at me again. "Asked what?" "We're playing cards tonight and wanted to ask you if you'd like to join us? It's a good way to get to know the men a bit," Muck explains. He's a genuinely friendly guy. "I'd love to... Although if it's poker or blackjack, I'm out... No idea how that shit works." Don and Muck laugh. "Don't worry, you'll learn..."

After dinner we finally have free time. Completely exhausted, I let myself fall onto my camp bed. "Finished already?" George grins next to me and I shake my head. "No, I'm just not used to it anymore, I noticed," I grin back. "Smoke?" he then asks, holding out a pack to me. Gratefully, I accept it and pop it in my mouth. George is quick and lights my smoke right away. "Thanks." "You're welcome."

"Hey Liv... After the showers we're going over, yeah?", Don calls then and I nod. "She's coming?" Liebgott now interjects, looking at Malarkey. "Yeah, why not?" Liebgott doesn't answer, but simply snorts before grabbing his shower gear and walking out of the barracks. "What did I say?" I ask directed at Don as we both look at Liebgott. "After one day, it doesn't count, okay? He'll come around."

After I shower, which is really the ONLY exception where I get special treatment, I brush my hair, tie it into a side braid, and then head back to the barracks. I put on my OD's pants, but a white shirt above them. This is a little tighter than the one from my PT Gear, which is why you can now see my curves very well. Some of the men look up when I open the door and examine me. I throw my shower utensils into the box in front of my bed and then turn back to Don, who also looks at me. "What?" I ask, raising my eyebrows. "Nothing, nothing. Ready?" "Yeah." "Good, let's do it. Penkala? Liebgott? You coming?" he then asks to the back. "Go ahead, I'll be right there," Liebgott mutters to himself, and Don just shakes his head. Another soldier comes out from behind and we make our way to the other barracks. "Liv, this is Alex Penkala," Don introduces him and I give him a friendly nod.

In the other barracks, the game is ready so far. "Poker after all?", I ask Don, looking at me apologetically. "Ah here you are at last. And our guest of honor is here too, perfect. Where is Liebgott?", Muck greets us and the others look at me. "He said he'd be right along." " Whatever... So Liv, are you ready?" "Well actually... I'll sit out for now and watch you guys." "Oh come on," Don says, looking at me. "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll find another way to take away my money," I grin and sit down next to Don. "This here is Bill Guarnere, Joe Toye, and Skinny Sisk," Muck introduces the others who are playing along. "Pleased to meet you," I say, smiling forcedly at them.

When they finally get everything ready, the door opens and Liebgott walks in. As always, he doesn't give me a glance and then sits down next to Muck. The boys start playing and I'm still trying to figure out how this game works. "Where are you from, kiddo?", Bill then asks me and I look up, surprised that he is addressing me directly. "California," I say and he's eyeing me. "Newport Beach, Orange County," I add, which earns me an amused snort from Liebgott. "You got a problem with that?" so I ask him, finally looking at me. His brown eyes bore into my blue ones. "No, I don't. Rich girl," he then says, but in a sarcastic tone. "Don't you dare talk about me if you don't have a fucking clue, got it?" "I know Newport... And I know what kind of people live there, too." "Oh come on Liebgott. Give her a break, will you?" then Don interferes again. Liebgott, who until then was still looking me in the eye, averts his gaze again and shakes his head in annoyance. "I'm out," he then says and throws down his cards, before he lights a cigarette.

Then Bill turns to me again. "West coast, huh? Don't take him too seriously, will you? Just because he's from San Francisco, he thinks he knows all of California," he grins and I have to laugh. I briefly look at Liebgott again, but quickly avert my gaze. "Explain something to me...", Joe Toye then says. "How does a young woman like you end up joining the paratroopers as a sergeant? I'd be interested in that story." He looks at me and frowns. He's not the only one, though, because now I have all eyes on me. I look around and bite my lips for a moment.

"Well, as you know, I was in the 82nd, I was assigned there when I was done with the OCS." "You graduated from OCS? Shouldn't you be a Lieutenant then?" asks Muck, also frowning. "Are you kidding me? I mean... look at me," I laugh and Muck seems confused. "I'm a woman, Muck... Do you really think they would give the rank of Lieutenant to a woman? Not a chance. That's why I'm 'just' a Sergeant," I say, underlining the word 'just' with quotes. "Unbelievable," Muck grumbles, and Toye also shakes his head. "And why did they transfer you here?", Skinny then asks and I smile at him. "Well in my old company there were some who couldn't handle having a female Sergeant, which is why they gave me a pretty hard time. I didn't let it get to me, though, so I kept getting into... well, rackets." The boys look at me, but none of them say a word. "I can fight back, even if I don't look like it. I went to military school and I've been trained in physical combat since I was little. Anyway, my Colonel didn't think this was very funny, and he got into it with Sink, and here I am..."

"I, for one, think it's great. I mean, why not get all the help you can get. And then if she looks like you... With a kiss on the hand," Don then says and smiles at me, which I return. "Suck-up," Liebgott grumbles, propping himself up on one elbow. "I agree with Don," Muck grins at me, and Toye and Bill also nod. "Thanks guys. I hope I don't let you down."

#Band of Brothers #bob #bobedit #joe liebgott #don malarkey #dick winters #Joe Liebgott x OC #ww2 #hbowar #hbo series #Long Story #Hope you like it #It's just the beginning #much more is coming

[liebgotts-lovergirl]

Fire On Fire: Chapter 1

(Ch. 2)

Gallery II Taglist Application II Symbol Guide

Summary: With WWII raging across the European Theatre, OSS agent Alix "Pyro" Martinelli and paratrooper Joe Liebgott are forced to navigate their star-crossed romance at the worst possible time. With the knowledge that one or both of them could end up dead before the war's end, will their secret love survive the horrors that await them or break under the pressure? Simultaneously, as he prepares to send her into enemy territory, first-time case officer/handler Lewis Nixon struggles to shoulder the ever-present fear that the agent he's come to see as his little sister may not make it back alive.

A/N: Here it is!! Y'all know the drill lol, everything BoB is strictly based on the miniseries & my own headcanons, not the real-life ppl. Also pls be nice to me, this is the first thing I've written since like 2018-2019. It'll get better hopefully lol. (And yes, I'm making y'all wait for that coveted first interaction between Lieb x Alix lol bc I'm evil) 💖

Contemporary: June 3rd, 1944. Aldbourne, England.

The most important ally in a spy's life is their case officer, also known as their handler, and for some reason, Alix’s seemed determined to get her killed before she ever set foot in a war zone. 

"It wasn't a suggestion, Martinelli, it was an order. You’ve been sparring with your dominant hand all day. Switch hands." 

Alix barely had time to fumble her weapon from her belt before Lieutenant Nixon came at her face with a knife. 

"Shit!" 

She ducked as it sailed over her head but managed to pop back up just in time to block an incoming punch with her right forearm.

"Christ," Alix griped, swiping at Nixon with the knife in her left hand, grazing his arm with the flat of the blade. "A little warning would've been nice, y'know!"

"Oh I'm sorry," the intelligence officer remarked snidely, stepping out of her reach to avoid another slash. "Did you think the Krauts would send you a personal invitation?" 

 The younger agent didn’t answer, instead aiming a kick straight at Nixon's stomach. She was shorter than him by a good 6 inches even in boots but her legs were still just long enough to reach him.

The kick was hard enough to connect but gentle enough not to hurt too much, more of a tap than a true kick.

“Weak form,” Nixon called out, although his slight stumble backwards betrayed him.

She knew he was deliberately trying to piss her off so she’d make more mistakes.

He always said “Anger makes you stupid, stupid gets you killed.”

Nixon recovered quickly from the kick, dodging her attempt at a stab and returning one of his own, easily tapping her arm with the dull side of the blade.

“Too slow.”

Yeah? She cocked a perfectly manicured eyebrow. We’ll see about that.

On a whim, Alix faked a punch to Nixon’s left. It was a gamble but it worked. He fell for her ruse just like she’d hoped and as his focus shifted to blocking his left side, she was able to disarm him with a swift kick to the right, knocking the knife out of his hand and into the grass somewhere.

She put her hands on her hips and grinned, panting. That was the quickest disarm she'd done all day and she'd managed it using her non-dominant hand and after hours of non-stop physical training, no less.

Not bad for one of Director Donovan’s “glorious amateurs”, she mused.

Watching her superior fishing around in the pasture for his lost weapon was kind of cathartic, Alix thought to herself with a stifled laugh. Perhaps it was just schadenfreude but it felt nice to see him be the one to struggle for once.

Ever since the first day he’d been assigned as her handler two years ago, Lieutenant Nixon had made it his personal business to make her life a living hell.

She had tried to be cordial to him but he wanted nothing to do with her, even going so far as to only refer to her as “Agent” or “Martinelli”. He had run her ragged during OSS training, ruthlessly drilling her on everything from close-combat and weapon-handling to enduring an interrogation every day for a full three weeks.

Nothing was ever good enough for him; he could always find something to criticize. He expected her to commit written information to memory practically the second she received it and he wasn’t shy about quizzing her at random on everything from poisons to arteries to conversational French.

She thought he might loosen up after her graduation from the OSS program, once he’d seen that she had transformed from a society girl into a capable agent who didn’t need her supervisor breathing down her neck, but that didn’t seem to be the case.

He still saw her as the youngest and smallest trainee that needed constant supervision and strict discipline for even the most minor of infractions. 

Getting transferred to England for further training with their Special Operations Executive had been a welcome change of pace. Her handler had gone back to Toccoa, Georgia with the Airborne and she finally felt like she could breathe again.

Life with the SOE wasn’t nearly as stressful because it was a well-established organization and her superior officers there were much more laidback. She felt secure in her training and confident in her skills. But her relaxation was short-lived because after a year, the Airborne had transferred too and with them came her Draconian handler and a host of new trials to complete. Joy.

Despite Alix’s lifelong fear of heights, even completing her jump-training wasn’t as difficult as earning Lewis Nixon’s approval, and that was really saying something.

For whatever reason, the intelligence officer seemed determined to break her but the young OSS agent was even more determined to succeed.

No matter how hard he pushed her, she always pushed right back. The sight of an intimidating-looking officer glaring down at a petite woman 9 years younger and half a foot shorter than him like she was the Devil Incarnate after a particular bout of sass often provided endless entertainment for troopers passing by the training ground and Alix herself would've found it hilarious if she wasn't on the receiving end of said glare.

Digging her red-painted nails into her palms with frustration, Alix marched over to her handler and cleared her throat expectantly. 

The Lieutenant looked up from his field notebook and cocked a bushy eyebrow. 

“Did you want something, Agent?”

Alix’s dark eyes narrowed. Nixon’s air of deliberate nonchalance was really pushing her buttons and he knew it. The more heated she got, the colder he would get, but she could feel her temper bubbling just under the surface anyway.

“I have a name, you know,” she snapped. “It’s Alix.”

“I don’t care. You’re an assignment, not my friend. Now, what do you want?”

Alright, that’s it.

“Well number one, for you to stop treating me like a fucking child!”

“Then stop acting like one,” was the dismissive reply.

“Excuse me?!”

“You heard me. You’re getting complacent. You’re going to be in extremely close-quarters with highly-skilled German officers, alone. If you make even the slightest mistake, if you're off by even a second, they’re going to eat you alive.”

���I’m a Sparrow,” she shot back. “A trained assassin. I’d like to see them try.” 

“You’re also what, 5’4” and a hundred-something pounds soaking wet? Some threat! If they disarm you, it's game over." 

Alix seethed, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring daggers at her superior.

“I graduated top of my class. You’ve seen me fight! You know I’m as effective with a weapon as I am without one!” 

“With your right hand, maybe, but what if it’s restrained and you have to use your left?" 

“You worry too much.” 

“You don’t worry enough. You’re not strong enough to be effective against highly-trained soldiers without a weapon. Here, throw a punch with your left, I’ll show you what I mean.” 

Alix’s dark eyes narrowed and she gave a sarcastic smile.

“It would be my pleasure, sir.” 

She swung a long left-hook. Her knuckles had just grazed his jaw when he grabbed her wrist.

Using her own body’s momentum against her, he stepped in, hooking his arm under her armpit and easily flipping her over his shoulder onto the ground with a hard thud. 

“Fuck!” Alix coughed out, the breath forcibly knocked from her lungs due to the sudden impact. Laying on her back, she was winded and her muscles were burning but her mind was racing. She was down but not out.

Catching her breath, she shifted into a crouching position. Now she was seeing red.

Nixon meanwhile, was resting on his laurels. 

“See,” he announced from above with a smug, almost irritatingly paternal air. “What did I tell you? You’re not as effective unarmed. You need to train mo-”

THUMP!

Swinging her leg out in one fluid motion, Alix had caught his ankle, using a Tiger-Tail leg sweep to swipe her handler’s legs out from under him, bringing him crashing down next to her with a string of muttered curses.

“Doesn’t look like you’re that effective unarmed either, sir,” she said with a sarcastically-bright smile. “Maybe you should train more.”

The Lieutenant opened his mouth defensively, about to respond, but he was cut off by the sound of tires on the grass behind them.

Glancing up at the noise, Alix felt relief wash over her at the sight of Sergeant Bull Randleman and Lieutenant Winters crossing the field toward them in a Jeep. If anybody could temper Lewis Nixon’s attitude, it was those two. 

The dark-haired lieutenant got off the ground, dusting off his uniform. Turning to Alix, he offered her a hand but she gave him a scathing look that clearly said “I don’t want your damn help” so he retracted it with a shrug. 

Suit yourself. 

Inwardly groaning at her sore muscles, Alix gritted her teeth and silently dragged herself to her feet. She was not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her struggle.

As long as I'm still breathing, she thought. I'm fucking fine.

As the two officers approached, both she and Nixon saluted them.

“That was a damn near perfect takedown you just did,” Bull exclaimed with brotherly pride, chomping on the end of his trademark cigar as he and Winters approached. “And some disarm too! We saw when we was passin’ by earlier! You're some kinda killer now, huh, Pyro?”

“After two years of training, I sure hope so!” she chirped, grinning at the nickname. The memory of its origin always made her laugh.

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A year earlier: January 1944. Aldbourne, England.

On her first day training for her cover as a combat nurse with Easy, she’d gotten into an explosive argument with some guy named Cobb over a particularly sexist series of comments he’d made while cornering her outside, after one of Welsh’s riveting lectures on map-reading.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing here anyway?” he’d asked, looking her up and down with a wolfish smirk. “War's no place for a woman like you, sweetheart.”

“I'm doing my part, same as you," she’d answered coolly. “And just for the record, ‘a woman’s place’ is wherever the hell she wants to be.”

With a bright, "Fuck you" smile, she had just pushed past him to be on her way when she distinctly heard him grumble “Jeez, learn to take a compliment, bitch.”

The shouting match that followed quickly escalated into a physical brawl the moment the phrase “all bust, no brains” came out of his mouth. The fight only ended minutes later when a still-cursing Alix was physically dragged off of a barely-conscious Cobb by Bull, who didn’t want the new girl committing murder on her first day.

“Well ain’t you a little firecracker!” Bull had remarked, shaking his head in amusement. 

And thus, the nickname Pyro was born.

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Contemporary: June 3rd, 1944. Aldbourne, England.

“So what are your thoughts, Nix?” Winters inquired. “You’re her handler, after all. Is she ready?”

 There was a short silence and Alix held her breath.

What if he lied and told Dick she was terrible? What if he got her kicked off the mission and the whole Sparrow program never got off the ground because of it? What if- 

“It wasn’t a bad session—” Nixon started after a minute of thought and Alix exhaled.

Thank God. 

 “—But her disarm could’ve been faster. Her shooting is fine with her right hand but she can’t make a left-handed headshot worth a damn, let alone in the time frame she needs to.”

“Well,” Bull drawled matter-of-factly. “considerin’ it’s her left hand she’s workin’ with and ‘s far as we know, she ain’t left-handed, I reckon just bein’ able to hit the target is somethin’. She's somethin' to see shootin' with her right though! Kill-shots every time."

Winters nodded in silent agreement, making some small notations on the clipboard he was carrying before looking over at Nixon, green eyes meeting black.

“Mind if I have a word with you, Lew? In private?” he asked, gesturing for them to take a short walk back to the Jeep and the dark-haired man shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets. 

“Sure thing, Dick.” 

He gave a curt nod to Alix and a strained smile to Bull before the two men started off. 

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“Now, far be it from me to tell you how to run things,” Winters began tentatively once they had arrived at the car. “But don’t you think you’re being just a bit too harsh on her?” 

He leaned against the Jeep, giving his friend a scrutinizing look. 

“I mean, did you really expect her to be able to make a head-shot with her non-dominant hand? Can you even make that kind of shot with your left hand, Nix, let alone in under 5 seconds?”

"No but I’m also not the one who’s going to be locked in a room every other night, up close and personal, with members of the SS, the Gestapo, or God knows who else,” Nixon countered, beginning to pace. “She needs to be prepared, goddamn it.” 

Dick frowned as he watched his best friend. He’d never seen Lew this anxious before. He opened his mouth to respond but before he could get the words out, his friend cut him off.

“There’s no room for mistakes, Dick,” Nixon insisted, his voice rising. “She’s good, really good, but she has to be the best or she's going to get herself killed out there!" 

“She is the best or she wouldn’t have been recruited in the first place,” Winters replied evenly.

“We all know that Soviet Swallows aren't recruited at random and neither are American Sparrows. She was chosen because she can handle it.”

Nixon shook his head. 

“What if you’re wrong?”

“I’m not,” the redhead said bracingly.

“She’s been training non-stop for two years, in everything from poison usage to intelligence-gathering, seduction to pickpocketing. Hell Nix, you just flipped her onto the ground and she still managed to take you out too in a matter of seconds! She’s a crack-shot and speaks how many foreign languages now?” 

“Three,” the dark-haired man conceded. “Italian, French, and Spanish. Four if you count a working knowledge of Russian.” 

“Exactly. And on top of it, she has the smartest man I know as her handler. Even if I didn’t have faith in her, which I do, I have faith in you and your abilities and so does Bill Donovan or he wouldn’t have personally assigned you to such a new program.” 

Nixon rubbed the back of his neck worriedly, his mouth set in a hard line.

A part of him knew that Dick was right— all of the relentless pressure he’d put on her had paid off because Alix really was one of the best to come out of the OSS but still, that nagging fear just wouldn't leave him alone.

He had a bad feeling about all this. 

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2 Years Earlier: June 1942. Washington DC, USA.

He thought back to his first briefing on agent handling with the OSS two years earlier. He had been among a group of about eight officers called to OSS headquarters for a personal conference with the director, Bill Donovan himself. 

Once all of the handshaking and small-talk had died down, everyone spread out and took their seats, an expectant hush falling over the small crowd.

“Gentlemen,” Donovan began, his gravelly voice piercing the thick air. “There are whispers in the intelligence community that the Russians are developing a new program.” 

Nixon shifted uncomfortably in his chair, struggling to concentrate. It was stiflingly hot in his uniform and the air conditioner in the office had stopped working, much to everyone’s chagrin.

He could feel the sweat dripping down his back and he grimaced.

This better be good.

“We have received Intel from our sources in Russia that strongly confirms the use of so-called ‘Soviet Swallows’-” 

“Like the bird, sir?” the officer across from Nixon piped up and Donovan let out an exasperated sigh.

“Yes, like the bird, son. "

Nixon might've laughed if the situation hadn't been so serious.

"These Russian Swallows are part of a new program utilizing female spies who are highly trained and tasked with infiltrating and incapacitating the enemy. They combine the deadliness and discipline of a soldier with the glamour and grace of a movie star."

There were some oohs and aahs from the officers around him but Nixon remained silent.

If they were as highly trained as Donovan was suggesting-- and knowing the Russians, he had no doubt they were-- these Swallows, whoever they were, would be extremely dangerous and effective agents in the field.

"Now," Donovan continued. "Our objective is to get ahead of them. The president has tasked us here at the OSS with creating a similar program, known as the Sparrow Program, and we need capable officers like yourselves to lead it. If all goes well, these young ladies I am assigning you today will be the very future of American espionage.” 

The men in the room all began to exchange curious glances.

The meeting itself had been scheduled for some time but all of the information about it had been considered Classified, so nobody had known how significant the project actually was. The nervousness and excitement in the room was palpable.

“The files that I am handing out to you now, gentlemen, are our first class of agents. Each of them have been carefully selected from the top schools and families across the country. They are the best and brightest that the United States has to offer. You have all been assigned one agent and as her handler, you will be personally responsible for her from today onward. You will be training her, managing her operations, arranging drops and meetings with Resistance contacts, processing the Intel she brings so it can be passed up the ladder, and you will be her lifeline if anything, God forbid, goes wrong.”

There was a beat of uncomfortable silence before he added brightly, “But no pressure."

Nixon made a bitter noise in the back of his throat and sipped the cup of black coffee he’d gotten from the lobby.

Oh yeah, he thought cynically. No pressure at all.

"Now when I read off your name, raise your hand and my assistant will present you with the file of your first operative, who you will be sending behind enemy lines at a time and date to be specified. I will be personally available to answer any questions, should you have them. First up...Atkins!"

Nixon stared straight ahead, past the officer sitting across from him, out the window, to the treeline as he waited for his name to be called.

Great, the lieutenant mused bitterly. I get to be responsible for someone else's life now too. Because I'm doing so well managing my own.

Once the folders had all been handed out, the director began to circle the room, periodically answering questions as they were asked.

Lieutenant Nixon let the file sit closed on the table for a minute, just staring at it, as he mentally prepared himself to look into the face of the person he would be sending into enemy territory.

Steeling himself, he reached for the folder and opened it, glancing inside before immediately slamming it shut. 

The girl looked so young in her photo, barely 21, and for a split-second, in her glossy black curls and dark eyes, he saw his baby sister, Blanche smiling back at him. He suddenly felt ill. 

"Ah, you got Miss Martinelli," Donovan said, suddenly appearing over his shoulder as if sensing his doubts. "Alix is a charming girl. Quite a rebellious streak no doubt, but one of our most promising recruits. A swan among sparrows, if you will. Educated at St. Mary’s-- one of the finest finishing schools in the country, I might add-- and top of her class in our training facility as well. Her father, Emilio, is a good friend of mine. He's in oil, as I'm sure you know."

Nixon gave a half-smile, hoping he looked convincing and interested. He had no idea who Emilio Martinelli was nor did he care.

Rubbing elbows with other rich people was his mother's department, not his.

Casting one more glance at the folder, he took a deep breath and exhaled, trying to rid himself of the violent wave of nausea that hit him relentlessly.

From the moment he saw the photo, it had dawned on him just how easily the girl in the folder could have been his sister and now it wouldn’t leave his mind. She was just like Blanche in almost every way. This was somebody's little sister, no doubt.

And how could he send his little sister to die? He couldn’t.

Donovan had just turned to move on to the next officer when at the last minute, Nixon caught him by the sleeve.

“Sir,” he begged, his voice low. "Not her. Anyone but her. Please.”

The director’s brow furrowed.

“Son, I'm afraid everything's already been arranged. There's no backing out now."

The younger man quailed.

What was he supposed to do? Keep pleading? Tell the director he couldn’t take on the recruit because he couldn’t look her in the face without seeing his baby sister?

That was exactly what he did. 

To his relief, Donovan didn't laugh. Instead, he put a bracing hand on the lieutenant's shoulder. 

“You say she reminds you of your sister back home, right Lieutenant?” 

“Yes sir.” 

“Then prepare her like you’d prepare your sister. Protect her. Keep her alive.”

“Yes sir.”

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Contemporary: June 3rd, 1944. Aldbourne, England.

Winters cleared his throat awkwardly, breaking the silence between them as he wracked his brain for how best to broach the delicate subject on his mind. 

"Lew…uh…"

"Spit it out, Dick," Nixon intoned from beside him without even looking up. 

Winters did his best to oblige.

 

"Is this..um..Is there some sort of a romance thing going on with you and her or something? You just seem really torn up but I thought she had a thing going with.." 

Nixon jerked his head back with a flabbergasted look like he'd just been told Winters was moonlighting as a circus clown.

"What?! Oh God no, Dick, she's like my kid sister! Christ, she's a child!" 

"She's twenty-three, isn’t she?" 

"Yes, exactly! She's a child!" 

Winters laughed and shook his head in amusement.

"You act like being in our thirties makes us ancient. But good, I’m glad we got that cleared up then because I was going to say, if that's your problem, I can't help you. I’m not very good with that sort of thing."

A teasing smile played at the corner of Nixon’s lips. 

“Yeah, I’ve noticed. Say, do me a favor, Dick?”

“Depends on what it is.”

“If you ever have any more wildly off-base speculations about my love life, keep ‘em to yourself. In all the years I've known you, I don't think you've been right one time."

They both laughed but the auburn-haired officer sobered quickly.

"In all seriousness, Nix, lighten up a little on Martinelli, okay? She’ll be fine. Letting her have a little fun once in a while won’t hurt, especially since we're due out any day now.”

The intelligence officer cocked an eyebrow slyly. 

“Since when are you lecturing me on 'lightening up' and 'having fun'?" he asked, black eyes glittering with barely-contained mirth.

"Who are you and what have you done with my friend Dick?”

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#FireOnFire #Joe Liebgott x OC #also some subtle Winnix if you squint bc i ship it lol #Lewis Nixon #Dick Winters #Bull Randleman #Band of Brothers #Band of Brothers fanfic #BoB #BoB fanfic #fanfiction #HBO War #HBO War fanfic #Joe Liebgott #mywork #joe liebgott x reader #Band of Brothers fanfiction #Band of Brothers fandom #hbo band of brothers #Band of Brothers imagine #Joe Liebgott imagine #FOFChapters