#lewis nixon x y/n | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mads-weasley · 7 months

Text

Epiphany Pt. 10: State of Grace

Lewis Nixon x Reader

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Inspo: State of Grace TV (Acoustic Version) : Taylor Swift

A/N: it's short and sweet, but here is the final chapter from Paris! Thank you to everyone who's been reading this series. It really means the world. this is about the fictional portrayal of easy company on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: Following their heartfelt confession, the new couple shares their last night in Paris together.

Warnings: none :)

Under the soft moonlight, they walked back to the hotel, their hands intertwined, fingers fitting together like puzzle pieces. The streets were a bit quieter now, and the distant sound of laughter and music added a charming melody to the night.

“So,” (y/n) began, her eyes lifting to meet Lew’s. “How long have you had this planned?”

He used his free hand to scratch his scruff, a bashful smile playing on his lips. “Uh, a day.”

“A day?” Her surprise was evident, and her eyes widened in disbelief. “No way you came up with all of this yesterday.”

“Well, I love this city,” he admitted, a fondness evident in his tone. “So I knew where I had to take you.”

“You chose correctly,” she replied, her voice filled with warmth and appreciation as she leaned up to place a gentle kiss on his cheek.

As they strolled past the café from the night before, the memory of their waitress and her heartfelt words flashed in Lew’s mind. He considered stopping to share the new news, but the café sat locked and dark, embracing the quiet of the night.

“You know, I wasn’t completely honest with you last night,” he confessed, a sheepish smile tugging his lips. (Y/n) looked at him, a flicker of concern in her eyes. “Our waitress told me we reminded her of her and her husband, and that I needed to confess soon because it's rare to find two people who look at each other like we do.”

A soft smile bloomed on her face, and she released his hand, opting to wrap her arms around his waist as they walked, leaning her head on his shoulder. He reciprocated by draping his arm over her shoulder, drawing her close.

“That makes more sense,” she mused, her voice carrying a hint of playfulness and affection.

The soft glow of the hotel’s lights welcomed them as they arrived at their destination. They made their way to the elevator, the click of her heels echoing in the quiet. He pressed the button, and as they waited, he gently took her hand in his, fingers interlacing naturally.

As the doors slid open, they stepped inside, and the elevator began its ascent, carrying them to their floor. Lew glanced at her, a delicate smile playing on his lips. When they arrived at their floor, the doors chimed open, and they walked down the long hallway hand in hand. They stopped at her door, a comfortable silence settling between them.

Lew gently squeezed her hand. “I guess this is goodnight, sweetheart,” he said tenderly.

(Y/n) looked at him, a mix of emotions in her eyes. The night had been magical, and being so close to him felt right. “Lew,” she began softly, her voice carrying a certain vulnerability. “Would you like to come in for a bit?”

Lew hesitated, caught up in the moment. He looked into her eyes, a swirl of emotions dancing in the depths as if debating whether to accept the invitation.

“Are you sure?” he asked gently, his voice filled with care and consideration.

(Y/n) nodded. “I’m sure. I just want to spend more time with you before we get sent back to reality tomorrow.”

He smiled softly, feeling the warmth of her sincerity. “Alright then.”

They stepped into her room and sat at the end of her bed, taking off their shoes. (Y/n) sighed in relief after taking off her heels. “I miss my boots,” she joked, rubbing her aching feet.

He grabbed them from her hands quickly with a smirk. “I’ll just take them back if you don’t like them so much,” he joked.

He had bought them to go with her dress, and she loved them to no end.

“Lewis Stanhope Nixon,” (y/n) groaned, trying to take them from him. “Don’t you dare!”

Rolling his eyes, he handed the heels back to her, their laughter lingering in the air. He then carefully settled down on the bed, propping his head up with his arm, the playful banter slowly giving way to a quieter, more contemplative atmosphere. She took the heels and placed them back in the box before plopping down beside him, mirroring his position. Their eyes locked for a brief moment, and amidst the lightheartedness, a moment of quiet seriousness settled.

“Do you ever wonder what your life would be like if the war never happened?” she asked, her gaze thoughtful as her mind pondered the question.

Memories of his life before the war flickered in his mind like distant stars. “I used to,” he admitted, his stare full of admiration as he looked at her. “But then we met, and I realized all of this was worth it because I found you.”

Her face bloomed into a gentle smile, and warmth spread through her. There was a certain magic in imagining an alternate life, one untouched by the brutality of war.

“You know,” she began, her voice carrying a soothing, pensive tone. “Sometimes I imagine a life where we met back home. A simple life, free from war.”

Lew’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “What would we be doing?”

Her gaze held a dreamy quality, the faint glow of the room adding to the wonder in her eyes. “Maybe you’d work at the Nitration Works,” she mused. “Or be a salesman of some sort. I like to think I’d teach at the local school. Maybe we’d even have a kid or two running around the house, driving us crazy.”

He could almost picture it: the quaint home, the giggles of children, the shared struggles and joys of a peaceful life. There was a bittersweet tinge to it, a longing for a reality they hadn’t experienced. But they were here, together, and that was something extraordinary in itself.

“Would you still want that if we make it through the war?” he asked gently, his eyes searching hers for answers.

“When we make it,” she corrected, reaching for his free hand. She threaded their fingers together and squeezed once. “And I want that more than anything, Lew.”

A warmth swelled in his chest at her words, a tender smile gracing his lips. The simplicity of her answer resonated deep within him.

“I couldn’t agree more,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “But can we add a dog in there somewhere?”

(Y/n) shrugged, quirking an eyebrow. “I think that can be arranged.”

Lew leaned over, his lips brushing hers in a sweet, lingering kiss. It was a kiss that held promises of more beautiful moments, and of a future they were beginning to envision.

Their conversation flowed effortlessly, painting a vivid picture of their hopes, dreams, and fears. Time seemed to fly, and before they knew it, (y/n) was overcome by the warmth of the room and Lewis’ comforting presence.

He watched her closely, the soft glow of the lamp accentuating her features. Her eyes grew heavy, her breathing steady as she gradually succumbed to sleep. Lewis’ gaze caught a line of discolored skin beside her eye, the scar on her temple from D-Day. Nix gently traced it with his fingertip, his touch delicate on the raised skin. He marveled at her, his hand sliding from her scar to tenderly rest it on her neck, feeling the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. The man’s touch was tender and loving as he ran his thumb along her neck gently. He admired her beauty and grace in which she carried herself, even dead asleep. Lew carefully rose the bed and pulled the comforter up to her waist.

Kissing his forehead softly, he whispered, “Goodnight, doll.”

Reluctantly, he rose from the bed, his heart heavy with the longing to stay by her side. Lew turned off the lights, dimming the room into darkness. As he reached for the doorknob to leave, her sleepy voice stopped him.

“Lew,” she murmured, her eyes half-closed. “Stay with me.”

He paused, looking back at her. Her eyes were half-closed, but the softness and warmth of her gaze were impossible to resist. “Of course,” he whispered, a smile playing on his lips. Deciding to make her as comfortable as possible, he gently slipped off her tie, unbuttoned his jacket, and unbuckled his belt. He hung his tie neatly over the back of a chair and folded his shirt before setting them aside.

Lew glanced at (y/n) who was already deep in sleep once again, her breaths steady. He carefully slid out of his dress pants, placing them on the chair. Now in his undershirt and shorts, he moved to get into bed with her. As Nix settled into bed beside her, she shifted slightly in her sleep, her body unconsciously seeking warmth and comfort. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she turned towards him, nestling closer. (Y/n)’s head found its way to his chest, her arm draping over his middle. It was as if her subconscious recognized his presence and sought his embrace.

Feeling her draw near, Lew wrapped an arm protectively around her, his hand resting softly on her back. He raced idle patterns on her back with his fingertips, lost in the gentle rise and fall of her chest. As the darkness deepened and the world outside embraced the quiet darkness, the rhythmic pattern of her breathing lulled him into a gentle slumber. Lewis couldn’t help but smile.

He whispered to the quiet room, “I could fall asleep like this for the rest of my life.”

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

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

58 notes · View notes

bandagesandloveletters · 22 days

Text

Band of Brothers Masterlist

𝙰𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎: 𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜, 𝙸 𝚍𝚘 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸'𝚖 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚡𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙳𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚏 𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢, 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚜. 𝙰𝚕𝚜𝚘, 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚊 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝙱𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝙱𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚜𝚔. 𝙸'𝚖 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎!

Tag list: If you like my work, feel free to comment, and I can add you to a tag list for any future works either in general or for a certain character.

Lewis Nixon

Cold as Ice -A little something where Nixon learns to ice skate but it’s all part of a deeper plan. Pairing: Lewis Nixon x OFC.

Richard "Dick" Winters

Hidden Love - A request written around the reader and Dick having a hidden love for each other. Pairing: Richard Winters x Reader

Chuck Grant

Get Well Soon - Chuck gets a visitor to cheer him up. Pairing: Chuck Grant x OFC

Floyd Talbert

Frostbite and Kisses - In the cold depths of Bastogne, a little warmth is always welcome. Pairing: Floyd Talbert x OFC (Rosie Moretti)

George Luz

Sentimental Journey - A dance brings two kindred souls together. Pairing: George Luz x OFC (Ellis White)

Joe Liebgott

A Sergeant's Sorrow - A conversation between two friends after Brécourt. Pairing: Joe Liebgott x Platonic!OFC (Lizzie Welsh)

17 notes · View notes

mads-nixon · 7 months

Text

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

request guidelines | gifsets/icons

xoxo,

mads :)

Band of Brothers

italics - wips

Eugene “Doc” Roe

- At Last

- Break the Distance

- C'est Toi (Soulmate!AU)

Joe Liebgott

- Of Course It’s You

- Liebling

Floyd Talbert

- “The Night of the Bayonet”

- I’m Here (oc)

George Luz

- Home

- Old Friends

Dick Winters

- Winter at the Winters'

- Meine Liebe

Ron Speirs

- Keeping You Safe

- For Me

- Knight in Dirty ODs

Lewis Nixon

- Here With You

- The Vow

- Timeless

- Epiphany Series Masterlist

Johnny Martin

- Follow You Anywhere

Headcannons

- Nix When He's Sick

- Dating Eugene Roe

- Post-War Harry Welsh

The Pacific

Robert Leckie

- Crazy

Bill "Hoosier" Smith

- You Before Me

Eugene Sledge

- See the Good

Headcanons

- Hoosier Dating an Extrovert

- Chuckler Dating an Artist

- Chuckler Dating a Medic

Masters of the Air:

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

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

145 notes · View notes

ronsenthal · 6 months

Text

Ron Speirs x Female!Reader

Summary: After you helped Dick Winters and Lewis Nixon the word spread and soon enough this captain would come to your office too.

A/N: First of all, I would like to apologize, this is my first time writing something, I’m pretty nervous and english is not my first language, I’ll just try my best. I had this idea after listening to Blank Space (Taylor’s version) on repeat and also looking for some Speirs info and found out his ridiculously pretty handwriting???? and then I realized that he is so Taylor coded and this came to my mind.

so this one goes out to my fellow BoB lovers who are also Swifties!! Hope y’all enjoy it and if you could leave some feedback I would very much appreciate it.

If only you knew that taking typing classes would lead you to live this life from city to city, seeing horrors, tragedy and pain, feeling cold, hopeless and tired beyond anything you could imagine or explain you would have had second thoughts. But then again, every smile from your friends, every stupid joke they would tell just to lighten the mood, every cup of “coffee” you would share would make it more bearable. “Yes, it was worth it” you told yourself countless nights before falling asleep and dreaming of hope it would all end, if not soon, at some point.

“Yes, it was worth it” you told yourself after one night that you had too many drinks with Nix, you wish you could tell the same about Dick, but he would never allow himself to do so, but he also enjoyed the night out with his friends. It was only natural that you would end up following those two, after all, with some luck you ended up being assigned to help out Dick with the mess he was making at his office duties. After some time and after figuring out how to understand the man it became really enjoyable.

Those nights that they would tell their stories for you to organize it down in a report for your superiors were as fun as they could be, given the circumstances.

Nix wouldn’t even bother to try to write his reports once he discovered how fast you could type and how concise you would turn Dick’s endless essays into comprehensive, yet detailed reports, soon enough you were helping both of your COs, your friends.

“(Y/N) I believe you have this weird super power, are you sure you are human?” Nix said after half a bottle of Vat-69, raising his eyebrows as if he was looking at you with this invisible magnifying glass.

Dick only shook his head in disbelief. Sometimes you thought that they looked like one of those old married couples, knowing each other's quirks and peeves and yet somehow, finding it all amusing. You wondered if you could find someone like this in this God forsaken world you were living.

One day you found it, but thinking back it wasn't easy at first and as it took some time to even lower your guard on your own brain, and allow yourself to think about it, about HIM.

Ronald Speirs had quite a reputation, everybody knew the rumors, every man saw the things he so recklessly did on the field. His men were as afraid as the enemy, so it took you by surprise when after Foy he also started to hang out with you, Dick and Nix. The first time there was silence on the table after he arrived, you didn’t even had the chance to introduce yourself politely as Dick started out his endless questions about how the Easy men were doing, and then Nix introduced some drinks, yet you two never exchanged one word to each other before that day.

After a while his presence started to make you feel a little bit comfortable, especially after Dick assured you that he was a good man, a good leader and being a big brother figure, he wouldn’t let Speirs offer you a cigarette. Since then you could catch a glimpse at how his eyes shone even in the dark, how he looked tired after an operation. He wasn’t scary anymore, he was just another officer that from time to time would hang out with your friends.

After some time you started to get used to his presence around chasing Dick and Nix up and down, something you did yourself as they were like big brothers to you, protecting, giving their piece of advice and taking care of you. Soon enough you started to feel more comfortable around Speirs too, once you even called him Ronald after a couple of drinks.

Then one afternoon it took you by surprise when he knocked at your office, looking tired as hell with a pile of files on one hand, a pair of boots in the other one and a half burnt cigarette hanging on his lips.

“Sorry to disturb you (Y/L/N), but Nixon said you could help me out with this paperwork? I’ll be in real trouble if I don’t turn them in this evening. Also, he said you could use this one” Speirs told you while putting a tiny pair of combat boots on your desk and taking of his cap, not even giving you time to reply, not even looking at you.

“What in the name of god are you thinking? What the hell is Lewis thinking? You guys think I don’t have anything better to do, I have enough work to do, just look at this endless pile of work, so no, thank you, good luck” you said throwing your arms in exasperation, complaining and pointing out the huge paper files on your desk.

He stared at you in horror as if you were one of those german panzers, he opened and closed his mouth, trying to find the words but he couldn’t. You felt a twist in your stomach, looking at him you could see he was embarrassed, you never saw him so vulnerable and tired, this man could use some proper sleep. As he was turning on his heels to leave while muttering sorry a thousand times, guilt took the best of you.

“Wait” you said, closing your eyes knowing right after the word left your mouth how stupid it would be, after all you could use some sleep too, you deserved it. He slowly turned to face you.

“I’ll do it, but you better help me out and you are not allowed to smoke while we do that, I hate the smell”

You could swear you saw an amused smile on his face when he threw his last pack of Luckys on your desk. Soon enough you prepared your typewriter checking if you had enough ribbon and paper for your work, finally you sat down and stared at the man in front of you, it took him a few seconds to realize you were ready to start.

At some point he took his jacket off and slowly put it on the chair he was sitting on, took of his tie and rolled up his sleeves, you tried not to stare at the man in front of you. If he caught you looking up and down he never said a word. It was not the first time you stared at this much feared man, truth be told you caught yourself staring at him more than once. Nix being the observant little bitch he was had this creepy little smile when he caught you one night looking at the Easy captain. You muttered something like “I’m gonna kill you” and prayed to god that he could send the biggest crate of whisky he could find so Lewis would get so drunk he would forget it.

You cleaned your throat, took a deep breath and asked for a small pause to take a glass of water. The man nodded and took a few steps to the little window and watched the landscape outside until you said you were finally ready again. “Back to work” you said to yourself.

…..

When you two finished the sun was no longer up, just in time for him to turn on the report. While working on he would tap his fingers on your desk and look nervously at the watch on his wrist, but he never complained or tried to hurry you up. He quickly looked at the papers you cautiously handed him and shook his head, approving the final result.

“So that’s it?” he asked you, his voice soft and quiet.

“Yes that’s it, just write your name over here and we’re done” you said pointing at the blank space you left over his name at the end of the paper.

He asked if you could borrow a pen for him to use and said a few “thanks” while signing the paper before leaving your office and storming out in the direction of the HQ, he never returned your pen but you didn’t even mind.

Then after composing yourself by stretching your back and taking a sip of your already cold coffee you decided to head down to the closest pub you could find, but firstly you changed your boots. Nix was right as you could use some new ones, but since you were so small compared to the rest of the guys it was nearly impossible to find some fitting boots, yet Speirs somehow got his hand in a pair just of the right size.

When you finally arrived at the bar your eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the lighting of the room, you then scanned the tables looking for Nix and Dick. When you recognized the friendly faces you started to move towards them, but then you felt a tap on your shoulders and turned to see who it was.

“Hey excuse me Y/L/N, Captain Speirs asked me to hand you this” It was Lieutenant Lipton holding an envelope in his hand, like it was a classified piece of information that could change the war. This man took his duties very seriously, you thought to yourself as you took the envelope and put it in your pocket.

“Thank you Lieutenant” you said smiling at the officer in front of you, who smiled back and took his leave joining his men at the other table.

You then walked to the barman and asked for a beer, when you were reaching into your pocket to find some money to pay the man he shook his head and his hands as if trying to say no, he paused a few seconds trying to remember the words in your language and explained the best way he could that someone had taken care of it, offered you some food, the most glorious, golden fried potatoes you’ve ever saw in your life.

As you walked down to the table holding your plate the Easy men stared at you as if you were a goddess walking on water or something, then started to shout at the barman asking for the same food. Dick and Nix exchanged a funny look between each other and Nix tried to take some of your fries before you slapped his hand.

When you tried the first one you closed your eyes, it hit you like a full speed train crashing into a wall, so many emotions one after another, after months of terrible stinky food there was this little piece of heaven. You took a big gulp of the beer in front of you, and then someone put another pint in front of you, and then another one, and another one. You could swear it was the best feeling in quite some time, the men shouting and laughing all around you telling tales and jokes about Toccoa Camp, Sobel or Dike or some officer they hated, Nixon pestering Dick about something, all the stuff, all at once you almost forgot the place you were, what you were fighting for.

Forgot…..

Then you remembered the note that Speirs left you and you suddenly felt a rush that almost made you fall off your chair. You don’t know if it was the fourth (or fifth?) beer you had but you felt your hands trembling as you opened the envelope. Inside there was this carefully folded paper, you stared at it for some time before gathering the courage to open it, just to find this beautiful handwriting, you didn’t expect to come from the toughest son of a bitch in the entire army.

“Dearest (Y/N),

Thank you so much for your help today. I will never forget it and I will find a way to repay you somehow. One night you said that as a kid you used to eat french fries when you were feeling down, so I took the liberty to ask Matthijs the barman to do something special for you.

I hope it brings you a piece of home! Enjoy whatever you want, he is going to put on my account and don’t even try to argue with him or me about it”

Sincerely yours.

Capt. Ronald Speirs.

“P.S: I have some more paperwork due to the next week, I hope you don’t mind”

You smiled to yourself as you read it again and again, every time your heart would jump when you stopped at the YOU, your name written, your brain froze right there as if it could take a picture just by staring. You didn’t mind that he would eventually bring more work, because somehow he managed to do so, he brought you home.

You were tired, drunk and your head was spinning a little but if someone ever asked you then yes: it was worth it.

#band of brothers fanfic #ronald speirs #ron speirs #ronald speirs x reader #ronald speirs fanfic #band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #hbo war #hbo war fanfic #mw*#mf*

120 notes · View notes

inglourious-imagines · 8 months

Note

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

Jokes on You (George Luz x Fem!Reader)

Requested by: anon

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

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

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

A/N: I so suck at endings.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

George turns to him, confused. “What?”

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

She opens her eyes. There is nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then come with me.”

This time she asks what.

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

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

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

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

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

And so she responds, “Okay.”

“Okay what?”

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

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

161 notes · View notes

blurredcolour · 5 months

Text

Lavender's Blue, Lavender's Green

[One-shot]

Lewis Nixon x Enlisted!Female Reader

After you wind up injured in a freak accident, your relationship with Captain Nixon is forever altered.

Warnings: MAJOR Canon Divergence, Minor Reader Injury, Detailed Descriptions of Pain, Language, Alcohol Consumption, Weapons, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Oblique References to Nixon's Alcoholism and Infidelity, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes [oral sex - m/f receiving, unprotected vaginal sex] - 18+ ONLY.

Author's Note: Self-indulgent canon divergence with little explanation ahead, read at your own risk. Some liberties were taken in describing reader's family life/personal history for the sake of plot. No physical descriptions or y/n used. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the HBO series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 8358

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

The floorboards creaked beneath your jump boots as you followed O’Keefe into the backroom of the half-destroyed café in Thalem. You could hear the strains of a string quartet rising from the square below, and the conversation between Luz and Nixon a few rooms over. O’Keefe had shown up as a replacement during Easy’s second stay in Mourmelon-le-Grand, wide-eyed and eager to get his hands dirty. The rest of you had just been glad to make it out of Haguenau alive.

But there was something about the naïve boy that reminded you of your little brother back home, the youngest of four siblings born after you, last to join the party, the most eager to experience life when the rest of you were all jaded by the loss of your mother during his birth. Add in the fact that you too had been a replacement once, joined Easy in Aldbourne for Operation Market Garden – one of twenty-seven women selected as the first female paratroopers to join the 506th – and you had felt a certain protectiveness over the kid. Which was why you found yourself watching over him now, even in this relatively harmless town.

Another groan of wood had your eyes flicking to the floor, something about the pitch of the slats not sitting right with you, but before you could open your mouth to warn him, there was an ominous ‘crack’ beneath O’Keefe. He let out a horrific shriek as the boards beneath him began to give way and you lunged forward, snapping out your left hand to grab onto any part of him you could. Seizing him by the back of the collar of his ODs, you landed flat on your stomach with a grunt with O’Keefe dangling through the newly created hole in the floor. Your helmet tumbled from your head, bouncing off his and crashing onto the tiles below.

Your arm was aching under the strain of his body weight but as you tried to spread some of the load onto your second hand, you realized the butt of your rifle was jammed between the floor and your body, pinning your right arm against you by the strap over your shoulder. The sound of multiple sets of boots running into the room was quickly followed by several pairs of hands pressing against your calves, bracing you to keep you from following O’Keefe through the hole.

“I gotta let you go, Patty.” You grit out. “It’s not far, ok?” You assured him, able to see through the ragged gap in the wood that he was dangling only a few feet from the floor below.

His response was not what you were hoping for. “Don’t let me fall!” He cried out, looking up to you with wide, calf-like eyes. “Please don’t let me go!” He began to clutch at your arm, flailing his legs as though he wanted to climb back up.

His body swung like a pendulum, bouncing and jerking before ultimately wrenching your strained shoulder from its socket and careless words born of pain from your lips.

“Augh! Jesus Christ, you fucking meatball! It’s only two feet! Let go!” You cried out, clenching your eyes shut against the blinding pain, your grip failing as your arm started to go numb.

He continued to whimper nonsensically and thrash about as heavy footfalls sounded on the stairs followed by a set of lighter ones.

“Let go of her you fucking meatball!” You heard Perconte snap at O’Keefe from below and cracked your stinging eyes open to see that Bull had seized the boy around the waist, the thrashing finally stilling before the weight of him was released from your limb as, at last, he let go of your arm.

Relief tingled through you, though did nothing to lessen the raw ache in your shoulder. Afraid to move, afraid to inhale more than tiny sips of air lest you fan the flames of pain, you laid perfectly still with your arm outstretched toward the ground below.

“What a fucking meatball.” You heard Luz giggle from behind you as he stepped forward. “Let’s get you up.” His voice grew closer as he leaned forward.

Mortifying as it was, laying there in denial was not going to make the agony end. Taking a shaky breath, you asked quietly. “George, can you go find Doc, please?” You were hoping not to arouse the suspicions of Webster, Liebgott, and Nixon who were somewhere in the room still. At least one pair of hands was still firmly gripping your calves.

“Uh, the meatball is fine, I mean Bull might tear him a new one but…” He trailed off as you turned your head slowly to look up at him, brow furrowing as lances of pain pierced your neck and shoulder. It felt as though someone were pouring boiling water down the sleeve of your uniform.

“For me, please.” You clarified, perspiration dotting your skin under the strain of masking your discomfort.

The room fell silent, whatever Liebgott and Webster had been bickering about forgotten as Luz shoved his way past them and shot out of the room. You felt the pressure against your calves ease up before Nixon was kneeling on the floor next to you, features etched with concern. “Where are you hurt?”

“Left shoulder.” You exhaled, swallowing at the way his eyes ricocheted over your prone form.

“Think you can get up for me?” He asked, his voice enticingly soft, making your heart skip a few beats as you felt suddenly willing to try anything he might ask of you so long as he kept speaking like that.

“Maybe?”

The smile he awarded you with filled your stomach with bubbling effervescence. “Good, let’s get this out of the way first.” He carefully extracted your M1 from beneath your hip before sliding it off your good shoulder, handing it off to one of the other men in the room.

Sliding his arm around your waist, he started to lift your torso from the floor, punching the air from your lungs painfully. Gnawing on the inside of your cheek viciously you did everything you could not cry out in pain. You were not the first woman in Easy to get hurt – Esther had been hit by shrapnel from a tree in Bastogne and Pearl had been shot during Dike’s disastrous assault on Foy. Both had been awarded a purple heart. You were just a girl who’d tried to hold too much weight – there would be no medal for you, so it would be best not to make a scene.

“Shit you must be in so much pain, I’m sorry.” Nixon grumbled, seemingly at a loss as to how to get your arm out of that hole and you into a more comfortable position.

Roe’s voice downstairs broke through the haze of pain, and you clenched your teeth, willing yourself to hold on a little longer as you heard him hurry up the stairs.

“You two, out.” He said firmly to Liebgott and Webster who left without comment before his hands came to rest on your hips, pulling you backwards. “Bend ya knees for me, that’s it, good job.” He spoke calmly as he worked with Nixon to lift you up into a kneeling position well away from the hole in the floor.

As your left arm drooped, your right hand quickly moved to support it in more or less the position it had been when O’Keefe’s movements had pulled it out of place. A millimetre of movement in any direction had you whimpering pathetically in the back of your throat despite your best efforts to keep the sound sealed behind your lips.

“What’s going on?” Roe asked as he knelt in front of you, taking in the way you were supporting your arm before he started to undo your ODs and then your wool shirt beneath.

“It’s my shoulder, Doc.”

He nodded as he carefully pulled open the collar to take a look, his fingers skimming along the skin of your shoulder and the strap of your undershirt. As they honed in on the hollow where your joint ought to be, you let out a yelp and nearly keeled over backward at the searing pain, grateful as Nixon pressed a hand to your lower back to keep you upright.

“Yeah it is. It’s out of joint.” Roe confirmed the sneaking suspicion you’d had.

There had been something agonizingly familiar about the whole thing, taking you back to a hot summer day when you were ten years old, riding your father’s new horse despite his explicit instructions to wait for him to be done in the field before you tried to mount it. The horse’s black coat had shone almost purple in the sunlight of the afternoon, warm to the touch as the barely broken-in animal had suffered no more than one lap around the paddock before bucking you from its back.

The force with which you had struck the ground had dislocated your left shoulder that day, and the drive into town to see the doctor had been a torturous thirty minutes during which every jolt and bump had sent pain shooting through your body. But as soon as the doctor had put it back in place, the relief had been almost immediate.

“You can put it back, right?” You asked hoping to avoid transport somewhere like this.

“Yeah, I can.” Doc smiled softly and started digging through his satchel. “Let’s get ya some morphine first, alrigh’?”

“Wait, don’t, I’ll be useless.” You said sharply. “It’s just going to hurt when you put it back in, right?”

Roe looked to you with wide eyes, hands stilling before his expression hardened a little. “It’s gonna hurt like hell when I put it back in.” He clarified firmly and you felt Nixon’s hand twitch against your back.

“And then after that I’ll be fine.” You insisted bravely.

Nixon sighed your name, and you turned your head too fast, barely stifling a cry of pain behind trembling lips.

“Maybe you should just let Doc give you the morphine.” He said gently.

“No.” You replied stubbornly despite the fact that he was a ranking officer, turning your face back to Roe more carefully this time. “Just get it over with, please.”

Roe sighed heavily at you, muttering bitterly in French. You caught a word that sounded an awful lot like ‘mule’, but before you could question him about it, he set one hand on your bicep and the other on your forearm. A noise of pain snuck past your lips unbidden, and you clamped your free hand over your mouth as he shot you a knowing look.

“Yer gonna yowl like a goddamn alley cat, take tha morphine.”

You glared up at him stubbornly until he started to move again, bending your arm at the elbow before slowly pushing your bicep in to press along at your ribs. You let out a sob of agony against your palm, aware that the murmur of conversation downstairs had faded away, but helpless to quell your involuntary reactions to Roe’s manipulations of your limb.

You felt Nixon shift at your side, watched his knee slot between yours before he carefully cupped the back of your head to guide your face to press against his neck. Your hand fell to your lap as you burrowed into the collar of his ODs, cheek pressed against his skin, the fabric of his uniform doing a much better job of muffling the sounds of pain spilling from you. His hand sought yours between your bodies, clasping your forearm, and you gripped his tightly in return as Roe turned your left arm out from your body at a ninety-degree angle before pulling downward on your bicep.

A tremendous wail wrenched from your throat with enough force that you anticipated the taste of blood before an audible ‘clunk’ sounded from your left shoulder, resonating through your torso as your joint slid home. The tension melted from your body in an instant as the pain left you, replaced by nothing more than a dull discomfort, slumping against Nixon to take a few deep breaths. Long enough to note the hint of cedar in his aftershave before you remembered yourself.

You had found Captain Nixon handsome from the first moment you’d laid eyes on him, but as he was a married officer with an English mistress you’d also gone above and beyond to steer clear of that mess. Unfortunately, it had done little to dull your body’s natural response to his presence.

Straightening quickly, you frowned to see you’d left wet patches of tear drops on his collar, releasing his hand as though it burned you to try and brush them off.

“It’ll dry just fine.” He assured you warmly and you swallowed thickly, shuffling back a little to turn to Roe.

“Thanks Doc.” You frowned to see him pulling out a sling.

“Jus’ for a few days, can’t have it slippin’ back out.” Roe muttered and unceremoniously wrapped it under your left elbow before tying it behind your neck. “I’ll let Cap’n Speirs know yer on ligh’ duties, he’ll probably send ya up ta Major Winters as a runnah.”

You let out a sigh of relief as hopefully that meant no aid station, no getting separated from the company and lost in some replacement depot. Looking down you frowned at how open the collars of your shirt and OD jacket were and began trying to reassemble yourself one-handed.

“Here.” Nixon offered softly and carefully buttoned you back up to where you usually wore your uniform before he pushed himself to his feet, sliding an arm around your waist and pulling you up as well. “Ok?” He asked and you nodded, trying not to notice the way the warmth of his body seeped through your clothes.

“Thank you, sir.” You said quietly and he nodded warmly in reply.

Grabbing his things, he gestured for you to lead the way out of the room, following close behind. As you reached the main floor, Luz held out your helmet which you took with a nod of thanks, putting it on your head before retrieving your rifle from Liebgott. You could hear Perconte continuing to give O’Keefe shit outside and you frowned deeply, making a beeline for the sound of his voice.

“Hey! I’m fucking fine, knock it off.” You barked tersely before you were beckoned over by Captain Speirs.

The sound of an explosion further up the road had your eyes fluttering open, the ruined village of Thalem dissolving into the sun-drenched back of a transport truck parked on the autobahn in Bavaria just outside the SS resort town of Berchtesgaden that 2nd Battalion was supposed to be taking. You’d been sitting here for at least twenty minutes now, the road blocked by a no-doubt man made rockslide that so far had proven impervious to everything the mortar boys had thrown at it.

Just what had pulled your thoughts back to that afternoon several weeks past you couldn’t say, though it was not the first time you had found your mind wandering there during a lull in activity. In fact, it had become harder and harder to find a time when you were not thinking about Nixon, much to your chagrin. It was not good for your health, even though his impending divorce had become very public knowledge nearly two months ago.

A palpable tension had been born between the two of you that day in Thalem, something you were certain others could sense as you’d spent two weeks at Battalion HQ, running into him more often than ever before. Averted gazes, stiffened postures, cleared throats – neither of you quite knew how to behave around each other anymore when interaction had been so natural and inconsequential before. Something had been changed that day in the café and there was no going back to the way it had been previously.

Shifting higher on the wooden bench you noted a couple of the guys in your platoon were dozing in the truck with you but everyone else seemed to have emptied out to watch impatiently as though the pressure of the entire battalion’s eyes might send the rocks cascading the rest of the way down the mountainside. The scuff of jump boots on pavement pulled your attention to the rear of the vehicle and you smiled to see O’Keefe approaching.

“Hey Patty, got tired of watching the blast boys?” You smirked and offered him a hand to pull him up, swallowing at his hesitation. “Come on, I’m fine I told you.” You chided gently.

He took it carefully and allowed you to help him into the truck and that’s when you noticed his helmet tucked under his arm, filled with wildflowers of all sorts of colours. Your breath hitched in your throat as the sight smacked of summertime at home, a dart of nostalgia and longing piercing through the layers of armor you had carefully layered over your heart to make it through this war.

His eyes followed yours and he beamed as he plonked down on the bench beside you. “There’s tons of ‘em just growing alongside the road. I thought you might like some.”

Looking to him softly you took his proffered helmet, setting it in your lap as you looked them all over, picking up a particularly vibrant purple one. “They’re beautiful, thank you.” You murmured distantly, practically transported by something so simple as wildflowers.

“Do you think that one is lavender?”

A snort from the back of the truck announced Liebgott’s return and you glanced over to see him leaning against the grill of the transport parked behind yours.

“Lavender grows in France, not Bavaria.” Webster corrected O’Keefe, tucking his notebook into his pocket before hopping up to sit on the bench across from the pair of you.

“Isn’t there that song about lavender, though? Lavender’s purple, billy billy?” Perconte squeezed in beside O’Keefe, crowding his personal space.

Ignoring their usual antics, you smiled softly to yourself, hands began to move from muscle memory as plucking the longest stemmed flower you could find before carefully winding the purple flower around it, repeating the process over and over as you started to sing.

“Lavender’s blue, dilly dilly, lavender’s green”

“Yeah, that’s it, that’s the song!” O’Keefe declared brightly.

“Shut the fuck up, meatball.” Perconte hissed through gritted teeth, elbowing him sharply so you would keep singing.

“When I am king, dilly dilly, you shall be queen Who told you so, dilly dilly, who told you so ‘Twas my own heart, dilly dilly, that told me so”

Unaware that your voice was carrying across the rockface of the mountainside, you were lost in the chain of flowers you were weaving from O’Keefe’s helmet, the verses coming back to you easily after years of singing them to your younger siblings.

“Call up your men, dilly dilly, put them to work Some to the plow, dilly dilly, some to the fork Some to make hay, dilly dilly, some to cut corn While you and I, dilly dilly, keep ourselves warm”

A hush fell over the valley, even the mortar team ceasing their attempts to break through. It was not the first time they’d heard you sing, you knew all the verses to ‘Blood on the Risers’ and happily shouted them along with the rest of the Company, but it was the first time you’d sung in such a feminine way before. You’d found the most expedient way to integrate into Easy was to be one of the boys, yet here you were, reminding each and every one of them that you were a woman.

“Lavender’s green, dilly dilly, lavender’s blue If you love me, dilly dilly, I will love you Let the birds sing, dilly dilly, and the lambs play We shall be safe, dilly dilly, out of harm’s way

I love to dance, dilly dilly, I love to sing When I am queen, dilly dilly, you’ll be my king Who told me so, dilly dilly, who told me so I told myself, dilly dilly, I told me so”

As you finished the song, you curled the chain of blooms into a circle and wove it closed with several stems before turning to place it on O’Keefe’s head, blinking as it slipped down over his eyes. A chorus of harsh laughter at his expense broke out around you and you huffed in annoyance.

“Oh shoot, Patty, I put too many flowers in there, sorry about that. I’ll make you a new one.” You gently pried it off his head, setting the large crown aside before setting to work on a smaller one as the sound of a jeep could be heard coming up the road.

You’d barely put the finishing touches on the smaller crown of flowers when Speirs was ordering everyone to form up into their platoons and O’Keefe had to vanish. Mortifyingly, you found yourself standing on the pavement with both circlets clasped carefully in your hand, somehow loathe to leave them in the transport truck to be trampled but also aware that you couldn’t just carry them with you.

“Captain Nixon can look after those for you, Corporal.” Major Winters voice cut through the din of soldiers tramping back and forth to collect their gear and get ready. You turned to see him grinning at you from where he stood leaning against his jeep.

Nixon, for his part, was staring at you with an unreadable look on his face – Confusion? Bewilderment? Shock? Whatever it was it made you want to duck your head shyly, an impulse which you fought hard against as you hustled over to hold out your handmade treasures.

“Thank you very much, sir.” You murmured quietly, swallowing as he hesitated a moment before taking them gingerly, as if they were made of spun glass, while Major Winters watched on with a broad grin. “Sirs.” You saluted and hurried back to your platoon, not wanting to be the cause of any further delay, but still unable to put your finger on just what Nixon’s expression had been.

As it turned out you had quite a bit of time to puzzle it over. After securing the town without incident and cheering on the select few who made it up to the Eagle’s Nest, you ended up on a patrol under Major Winters where he discovered the ruins of Herman Goering’s hunting lodge. Left on guard duty overnight with Patty, you let him ramble on about all the things he wanted to see and do now that the war in Germany was practically over while you quietly tried to decipher the enigma that was Nixon.

Straightening from your lean against the stucco wall as you heard the sound of an engine approaching down the rather rough road, you swallowed painfully to see the man himself, posture quite relaxed as he cradled an open bottle of champagne.

“What is this place?” He asked as he climbed from the vehicle, dressed only in the wool shirt and pants of his uniform.

“Herman Goering’s house, we discovered it yesterday. Had it on double guard ever since.” Major Winters replied.

You nodded in greeting as they walked past you, though Nixon’s sunglasses made it even more impossible to interpret his mood than that last time you’d seen him.

“I can vouch for that, sir.” O’Keefe interjected quickly and you tried not to wince at his endearing awkwardness.

“Oh, anxious to get off duty, O’Keefe?” Winters taunted him.

“No, there’s just so much to see and do, sir.” The boy replied honestly, and you heard Nixon scoff under his breath as Winters unlocked the door.

“Heya meatball.” Nixon grinned in greeting as he followed Winters through the door and down the stairs and that time you really did wince.

O’Keefe looked at you hopefully and you motioned with your head for him follow them, knowing full well his curiosity must be eating him alive. Listening to the wind rustling in the trees, you sighed quietly, soaking in the peace of the moment before Winters made his way back up the stairs with O’Keefe, the boy yanking you into a hug.

“Victory in Europe! The Germans surrendered!” He crowed and you stared at him, stunned speechless for a moment before you hugged him back.

Major Winters chuckled behind him before nodding to you in confirmation, making you realize the bewildered expression that must have been on your face. You pulled back to slap O’Keefe on the shoulder with a grin.

“Gotta go get the others, there is so much booze down there!” He was vibrating with excitement.

Glancing over your shoulder towards the stairs you raised your eyebrows curiously.

“Go take a look, Corporal.” Winters nodded encouragingly before climbing into his jeep with O’Keefe and pulling out.

Hitching your rifle higher on your shoulder you carefully made your way down the stairs, mind still swirling with the news, fingertips buzzing with an odd energy you weren’t quite certain what to do with. As you stepped through the open gate into the expansive wine cellar, stocked from floor to ceiling, your eyes widened, trying to take it all in.

“What’s your favorite drink?” Nixon’s question interrupted your moment of shock, and you looked over to where he stood amid countless bottles of a richly colored red wine.

“Gin.” You replied walking further into the space, sliding your helmet from your head as he made a thoughtful noise in reply before beginning to hunt through row on row of bottles. You unshouldered your rifle to set the butt on the floor, leaning the barrel against a stack of crates before setting your helmet on top of them.

Gnawing on your lip you turned back to admire the intensity with which Nixon approached his task before a small cry of triumph escaped his lips and he pulled a green bottle from the corner, holding it out to you as he approached like the conquering hero. You could not stop the grin that tugged at your lips as you took it from him, looking over the unfamiliar label.

“Genever, from Holland. The precursor to gin. It should do.” He nodded with a self-satisfied smile.

“Thank you, Captain Nixon.” You replied warmly, doubting you’d need a whole bottle to yourself but still appreciating the gesture as you slid it into the jacket pocket of your ODs.

“Can you do me a favor?” He tilted his head.

“Sir?” You stood a little straighter.

“Call me Lewis.” He requested softly, his rich brown eyes seeking yours in the dim light of the cellar.

Swallowing roughly, your heart began to beat a little faster at the intimacy of his request as your mind flitted back to his earlier arrival.

“Only if you’ll do something in return?” You asked slowly.

“What’s that?” He leaned in, the sweetness of champagne still lingering on his breath.

“Can you stop calling O’Keefe ‘meatball’?” You tensed in anticipation of his reaction, your heart plummeting through the concrete floor when he recoiled as if you’d struck him. Guilt bloomed bitterly in your chest, a new crop to go alongside the one you had planted that day in Thalem. “Every time someone says it, I’m reminded of the worst thing I ever said to him.” You rushed to explain your request, cautiously optimistic as his gaze slowly returned to your face. “It…wasn’t his fault he panicked. I never should have spoken to him that way.”

Nixon’s brows furrowed a moment in consideration of your request. “You really care for the kid, don’t you.” He sounded resigned and you found yourself blinking at him stupidly as he made his way back over to continue perusing the shelves.

Slowly, your brain began to process the slump of his shoulders, the forced nonchalance as he examined various labels and added choice bottles to a wooden crate at his feet.

Could he possibly be… No, that seemed utterly improbable… and yet…

All that aside, it seemed as though it could not hurt to clarify your relationship with O’Keefe. “Reminds me of my kid brother, sir.”

Nixon raised his head slowly, turning back to look at you. “Like a brother…” He said thoughtfully and you bobbed your head in agreement. “Well, I suppose I can stop in that case then.” He smirked and you exhaled with a warm smile.

“Thank you very much, sir.”

He raised an eyebrow and looked down his nose at you expectantly.

“Thank you very much, Lewis.” You amended, pressing your lips together as they hummed in pleasure at forming his name.

Lewis’s lips stretched into a lopsided grin as he eyed you warmly for a few moments before turning back to the task at hand, filling the crate and adding it to a growing stack by the entrance before grabbing another one to repeat the process. Shaking your head, you perched a hip onto one of the tables behind you, eyes scanning the room, reflecting on its previous owner, surprised at the sudden tightness in your throat as you remembered the fresh news of the German surrender. Clearly it was going to take some time to sink in, and frequent reminders, but the tears that were threatening to well in your eyes needed to be quashed until you could find a quiet place to unleash them as silently as possible.

Partly out of a desire to simply say his name again, and largely out of a need to distract yourself from the rising tide of your own emotions, you called out to him softly again. “Hey Lewis?”

“Hmmm?” He replied and you found yourself taking far too much pleasure in how quickly he turned back to you.

“I, uh, I was sorry to hear about your dog.” You said meaningfully, that tightness in your throat returning with a vengeance when an unveiled look of fragility overtook his features.

For the first time in nearly a month you were utterly convinced of how Lewis was feeling and more than anything you thought the man was in dire need of a hug. Before your brain even registered you were moving, your feet propelled you across the floor to wrap around arms around him, pulling him close. Almost immediately his arms slid around you tightly in return, one hand clinging to your shoulder as the other pressed some unknown bottle into your lower back, his face burrowing into your neck.

Tightening your embrace, you held him warmly, almost a mirror image of how he had held you in Thalem. You were completely oblivious to the traitorous tears that had snuck down your cheeks until Lewis was pulling back, setting the bottle of liquor aside to cradle your jaw and swipe at them with his thumbs.

“It’s a hell of a dog, but not worth you crying over.” He teased gently and you rolled your eyes, mostly in frustration at yourself, shaking your head as you sniffed.

“Is this…really all over?” You whispered in disbelief, and he pressed his forehead to yours gently as he nodded.

“We shall be safe, dilly dilly, out of harms way.” He uttered and you let out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob, burying your face into his shoulder as he pulled you tightly against him.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, unable to stop the flood of tears now that they had snuck past your defences, each shake of your frame somehow causing Lewis to hold you tighter as though he might prevent you from crumbling to pieces. The bottle of genever pressed between your bodies almost painfully, digging into your hip, giving you something tangible to focus on as you reined in your shuddering breaths, lifting your head slowly.

“God, I got your uniform all wet again.” You said, voice thick with the aftereffects of your breakdown and he shook his head as you wiped at his collar with your sleeve.

“It’ll dry just fine.” He repeated his assurance from the café with a smirk, and you gave him a watery laugh, wiping at your face roughly.

“Trooper, is that a bottle of Dutch-gin in your pocket or…” He grinned deviously and your jaw dropped before you smacked his shoulder playfully as a peal of laughter escaped your lips.

You shuffled back to put a proper amount of space between your bodies though you noted his one hand remained splayed upon your back. The one that had previously been at nape of your neck dropped to retrieve the bottle from your pocket. “If anyone is in need of a celebratory drink, it’s definitely you.” He murmured gently.

He tilted it towards you, and you reached forward to tug at the red ribbon as he held the bottle steady, breaking the wax seal over the cork. You let the debris fall to the ground before unsealing the cork with a promising ‘pop.’ You scoffed in playful protest as Lewis helped himself to first sip before setting the genever in your outstretched hand. Taking a swig, you blinked at the complexity of it compared to the dry gin you were accustomed to in England or back home. It burned its way down your throat into your empty stomach, igniting a warm glow from within.

A few rogue droplets had been left on your lips, but before you had the chance to swipe your tongue out to collect them, Lewis’s fingertips were tracing along the sensitive flesh. Your breath caught in your throat at the way his eyes were focused on your mouth as he worked at gathering every bit of liquid whilst also tracing the fullness of your lips before lifting his fingertips to suck them clean. Dizzy from lack of oxygen, Lewis’s proximity, and the way his eyes were now boring into yours, you swallowed tightly as his hand pressed tighter to your back, pulling you closer once more. His lips had barely brushed against yours when a host of voices sounded at the top of the staircase.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.” He swore against your mouth before you darted back out of his grip, chest heaving as you shoved the cork into the bottle of genever and returned it to your pocket forcefully. You quickly began to look for something to be doing with yourself.

“I’ll start loading these into the jeep, Captain?” You asked, voice tight as a bow string and all he managed in response was a dazed nod as you quickly scooped up one of the crates filled with his choice of bottles, nodding to the newest crop of arrivals on your way up the staircase.

Taking the stairs two at a time, you set the crate into the back of the jeep Winters had left for you and O’Keefe during guard duty, trying to take deep breaths of fresh air to clear your head. Christ that had been close…close to being caught…close to kissing Lewis…You sunk your teeth into your lower lip trying to smother the broad grin that threatened to unfurl on your features. There were far too many people about now to be grinning like the cat that ate the canary. Fishing your canteen from your webbing, you took a deep sip of water before smoothing your hands over your uniform and, feeling somewhat collected, returned to the cellar to move more crates.

Lewis seemed to have regained control of his senses, not that you dared to look at him, but his directions rang out through the cellar to load most of the wine into the trucks that men has just arrived with for the enjoyment of the officers while you continued carting his personal stash up the stairs until the jeep was full to bursting. All in all, he claimed five truckloads for himself and the officers of 2nd battalion. You rode backwards in the jeep, doing your best to stabilize the crates over the rough track back into town, doing your utmost to ignore his proximity in the vehicle.

A very warm welcome awaited your return to the lavish hotel where the officers were billeted, and many hands made short work of unloading all those trucks so they might make another trip for the rest of the men. By the time you’d made your way to Lewis’s room with the last of his crates, there was barely space to move for all the alcohol stashed within. No more than a small walking path from the door to the bed, if you were being honest.

“This is the last of it, sir.” You said as you looked around for a spot to put it and he looked to you sharply.

“We talked about this…” He teased, shuffling forward to grab it from you, hoisting it over to another corner of the room but you barely heard him as your eyes fell onto the two flower crowns sitting on the window ledge beside the bed.

“You kept them?” You breathed in amazement.

He looked to you before following your gaze and he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I was told to look after them for you.”

Picking your way across the floor carefully, you knelt on the bed with your boots hanging off the edge behind you, smiling softly to see they were a little dried out but truly no worse for wear. “You did an excellent job of it, Lewis.” You barely whispered his name aware the door was still open.

Setting your rifle on the floor at the foot of the bed, you put your helmet on the ledge before picking up the larger crown, rolling onto your hip and then onto your butt on the mattress in time to see him closing the door. “I’d bet money this fits you.” You smiled softly.

“Save your money, I already know.” He grinned, ducking down beneath the circlet of flowers before straightening with it perched atop his dark hair.

Your eyes widened in delight. “It fits perfectly.” Your fingers gently straightened it, unable to ignore the softness of his chocolate strands at they brushed against your fingers.

Lewis’s gaze flicked to your lips briefly before looking back to your eyes and you took a slow breath before trailing your hands down to frame his face, enjoying the slight scratch of his stubble against your palms. “Lewis…” You exhaled, and he surged forward to seal his lips against yours firmly.

He settled onto his knees before you, hands gripping your waist as you parted your legs and dropped a hand to his back to urge him closer. Needing no further invitation, he scooted forward, pressing against you as his tongue licked its way into your mouth. You weren’t quite sure who started it, but your fingers were a flurry of activity, pulling at the buttons of each others’ uniforms. All he managed to reveal was the wool shirt you wore underneath, your webbing dangling limply from your shoulders, while you found his bare chest. Growing impatient, Lewis tugged your shirt and undershirt free of your pants and ODs until he was able to slide his hand against the soft skin of your abdomen, making your lips fall back from his with a whimper.

“Damn it why are you wearing so many clothes…” He growled and you pressed your face against his hair to smother your laugh, knocking the flower crown askew.

“Some of us were on duty today.” You muttered back, nipping at the shell of his ear before pushing his shirt from his shoulders, letting your hands skate along his back.

Leaning forward, he pushed you back into the mattress, nipping and sucking his way along your jaw before he methodically began to remove your layers of clothing and webbing, starting with a ruthless tugging on your boot laces, until you were left in your army issue brassiere and underwear. To say that they left a lot to be desired in terms of style was an understatement, but the reverence in his gaze as his eyes raked over his hard-won reward soothed your ego somewhat. Plucking the crown from his head, you tossed it gently onto the windowsill before hugging his hips with your knees and rolling him onto his back intent on returning the favour, your dog tags jangling against his in a metallic collision.

As you tried to slide down to reach the laces of his boots, however, he grunted in denial, hauling you in for a hungry kiss as he pulled your pelvis snug against his, making you inhale sharply through your nose at the feel of his hard length against you. “Gotta get your pants off, Lew.” You tried to speak but he kept interrupting you with brushes of his lips or darts of his tongue into your mouth. Huffing slightly, you rocked forward against him firmly, making yourself shudder, but you managed to get his attention as his head fell back, eyes staring up at you half-lidded, jaw slack in a silent moan. “Gonna start with your boots and then I’m gonna get your pants off.”

“And then you’ll do that again…” He breathed and you nodded licking your lips as he released your hips.

You were admittedly not nearly as efficient as him, fingers made clumsy with want, but through persistence you prevailed in removing his boots, pants, and boxers, adding them to the scattered heap of clothing on the small patch of floor. Skimming your hands up his bare legs you revelled in the way he trembled slightly, sitting up to watch you impatiently as you made your way up from the floor. Halting your progress a moment, you ducked your head to lick a warm, wet stripe along the needy length of his cock where it stood proud against his lower abdomen, drawing a shaky cry of your name from his lips that convinced you to linger between his thighs a little longer.

Wrapping your fingers around him, you swirled your tongue around the tip before slowly sliding his length into your mouth, watching his cheeks flush and eyes flutter close as he wrenched at the bedding violently.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart…” He panted, his abdominal muscles flexing erratically.

Smile curling around him, you dragged your lips up his length only to sink your mouth back down onto him, covering the last bit you couldn’t manage with your fist, allowing your saliva to run freely.

“Christ you’re good at that.” There was the edge of a whine to his voice and suddenly he was pulling your mouth from him, chest heaving. “Keep that up and this’ll be over before it begins…” He muttered and sat up, gripping your hips to guide you onto the bed properly.

His lips latched onto nipple through the thin cotton of your bra before you could open your mouth to apologize, making your hips buck up against his stomach greedily as your fingers delved into his hair. Pulling the cup down he laved his tongue along the sensitive peak, before shifting his attentions to its partner, your soft sighs of pleasure filling the room. Sliding his hands to your back, he guided you up to sit before making quick work of the hook and eye closure between your shoulder blades, tossing your bra aside onto a crate of liquor before pressing you back down into the mattress with a kiss to your sternum, just above where your dog tags rested against your bare skin.

His fingers hooked into the waistband of your underwear, pulling them over your hips and down your legs before they too were unceremoniously tossed aside. “Goddamn sweetheart you are the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” He murmured, pressing his lips against the side of your knee before he hooked it over his shoulder as he came to rest on his stomach between your legs.

“Lew I…” You started to protest, embarrassed about the fact that you hadn’t seen a shower in a few days, but the words died on your lips as his fingers ran through your slick folds.

“You’re so wet, did I make you this wet?” He murmured in awe, and you nodded slowly, his answering grin almost blinding in its intensity. “Well, best not let it go to waste.” Lewis winked before sealing his mouth over your core, sucking the very breath from your lungs as his tongue delved hungrily to find your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Throwing your arm over your mouth, you smothered a harsh curse of delight into the crook of your elbow as he slung his forearm across your hips to pin them down so he might better intensify the level of pleasure he was dealing you as his tongue plunged into your heat. His nose took over the stimulation of your clit, while the stubble on his cheeks and jaw made your inner thighs tremble. The sounds he was making between your legs were positively lewd and only heightened the swirling headiness that wrapped around you. You clung to his hair as he began to suck on your clit, making you see stars behind your clenched eyelids, every exhale an eager moan or keen smothered against your skin.

Lewis’s hand slid up along your side to cup your breast, his fingers shifting to pinch and roll at your nipple, vaulting you over the edge as you rambled his name over and over. The tension of ecstasy slowly ebbed from your body, and he lifted his head with a broad grin, swiping at his upper lip with his thumb before sucking it clean. “Someday I’m gonna do that somewhere so remote you can scream at the top of your lungs.” He nuzzled your hair, pressing his lips to your ear as you laughed breathlessly.

“You sound so certain…” You teased, but he merely raised an eyebrow in response, his palm cupping your still-sensitive core, making your eyes roll back in your head.

“I am, yes. Certain that I can make you cum with my hands, my mouth, my cock. Certain that I’d like the opportunity to do so again and again…” You forced your eyes open to look over his features slowly.

“Yeah?” You exhaled, not quite sure what you had been expecting when you fell into bed with him, just knowing it was what you had wanted above all else in that moment.

“Yeah, sweetheart, until you’re sick of me.” He kissed you gently, the salty tang of your release still on his lips.

Gripping the back of his head, you returned the kiss hungrily, shifting your hips to rock up against his length, swallowing his ragged moan as you finally fulfilled your promise to repeat that motion. “Show me.” You whispered, aching to feel him inside you.

Lewis exhaled hotly against your lips before shifting his hips back, the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance before he rocked forward to slowly sink into you. He sealed his mouth over yours almost painfully as you whimpered hungrily, his own rumble of pleasure reverberating through your chest. His head fell to rest against your collarbone, his breath caressing your skin once he was fully seated inside you, unmoving.

“Lew…” You whimpered softly, digging your fingers into his shoulders, writhing against him slightly.

“I know, sweetheart just…fuck you’ll be my undoing…” He whispered before he kissed you fiercely, pulling his hips back only to thrust forward once more, earning a moan of delight from you.

Your bodies began the push and pull of carnal pleasure, moving in tandem as though this were your hundredth coupling rather than your first. Grasping your knee, Lewis hiked it higher on his hip, angling his thrusts deeper into your willing body, making you toss your head to the side as you clenched your jaw against the desire to wail in delight.

“Wish I could…hear you so fucking badly…” He grit out before grasping your chin and turning your face back so he could press his mouth to yours as he rut against you firmly, his pubic bone grinding against your clit deliciously.

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, the vicious undertow nearly obliterating your ability to think as Lewis quickly pulled out from your convulsing warmth to release across your abdomen with an agonized groan that was admittedly less than concealed before he collapsed onto the bed at your side. The pair of you lay there, speechless, covered in a sheen of sweat, chests heaving with frantic breaths before he shifted to feather soft kisses along the side of your face, reaching for a weathered scrap of green cloth that served as an army handkerchief to wipe your skin clean.

The ferocious growl your stomach emitted in the relative silence of the room had you tense as Lewis cracked up. “Sweetheart when was the last time you ate?”

“Oh, Christ I don’t know…” You muttered, covering your face with both hands in mortification.

Laughing richly, he kissed your knuckles before forcing himself up. “Alright, ok. Food. I’m going to find you some food. And then I’m going to spend the rest of this night right here in this bed with you, so don’t you go anywhere.” He looked down at you with playful seriousness as he stepped into the pants of your ODs, ruining the effect. “Shit.” He muttered.

Giggling into your palm, you shook your head before sighing as you pulled the blankets over your bare skin, feeling the chill of the mountain air now that he’d taken his body heat away from you. “Hey Lew?”

He looked to you quickly, nearly dressed – in his own clothes this time. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I’ll be here.” You smiled warmly, the stretch of your lips only widened by the grin of glee he directed at you before climbing back into bed to kiss you warmly. Your poor, empty digestive system growled insistently, and he huffed against your lips.

“Alright, fine…I’ll be back with food.” Lewis kissed your cheek before sliding into his jump boots and stepping out with his laces untied in search of sustenance for you both, fully intent on not making another public appearance until the next morning.

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

Band of Brothers Masterlist

Tag list: @fuckoffthanos

#lewis nixon x reader #lewis nixon imagine #lewis nixon imagines #lewis nixon #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers

127 notes · View notes

bloodstainedsaint · 6 months

Text

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

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

word count: 2100+

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...Cheers.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, it's motor fuel, now drink.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You say somethin’?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What if I need you?”

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

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

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

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

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

A soft beam adorned his flushed face. “And if I forget in the morning, I’ll just tell you again. I’ll tell you over and over until it's the only thing I can remember piss-drunk.”

“I’ll be making sure you're never piss-drunk again, but… I’ll remind you. Keep your word.” You leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“That you will,” he said impishly, grabbing you from around the waist and pulling you next to him in the sheets, his arms encircling your body.

“Hey!” you giggled, struggling against his bear-like grasp. “Can I at least get my boots off?”

He snickered into your hair and held you close.

“Nope.”

Bonus:

A couple of hours had passed, and there was no sign of Doc (Y/N). Figuring she was still with Nix, Dick decided to check in on them.

Knocking on the door and receiving no response, he let himself in, saying while surveying the room, “Doc, you still there— Oh.”

taglist: @mads-weasley

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

135 notes · View notes

ithinkabouttzu · 1 year

Note

May I request a first time ( smut ) with band of brothers characters x reader.

BoB reaction to sleeping with you for the first time (18+) pt. 1

*gn reader*

Genre: romance, smut, fluff

Warnings : intercourse, asphyxiation, dirty talk, edging, fingering, oral, pure FILTH 🫣

Description: The BoB guys reaction to doing *it* with you for the first time

Lewis Nixon

He has been anticipating this exact scenario for a WHILE now, he would be soft at first, and then slowly become more rough (not in a bad rough tho) “You’re so good at making me like this, doll” In a breathy voice OMG, he’s a bit of a tease during foreplay, putting his mouth to good work, just before you came he would pull away, “You can only cum on my cock, okay baby?” He loves the idea of edging you “Tell me how bad you want it” before putting it in, he loves making you beg for it, he would catch you off guard, ramming his cock into you, giving you little to no time to adjust to his size, “Y/n you feel so good baby, you know that?” “You were made for me baby, your hole was made for me” He is one HELL of a dirty talker omg. He makes you get so close before pulling back, over and over until you are begging him to let you cum, “Cum doll, for me” He would pick up his speed like never before just to see you come undone all over him. After, he would be so sweet and apologize if he took it too far, “I love you, let me know if I made you uncomfortable at all” He would probably order take out for you guys and he would be so cute for you the whole entire night.

Joe toye

He is SO ready for this moment. Just imagine, him grabbing you by your neck/jaw and kissing you passionately. He’s so rough and passionate but if you tell him to slow down or stop he will immediately, SUCH A DIRTY TALKER OMG, he will literally mutter out the most filthiest things ever and he loves seeing your reaction, “Do you like my cock baby, You like it when I fuck you? Huh, doll?” AHHH “Come on baby, you wanna cum? You can do it” He loves when you scream his name, he just loves hearing your moans in general. I also think he would like eye contact, like he loves looking into your eyes as you cum. He would keep his hand around your neck lightly to make sure you can’t move your head away from him, “Eyes on me, doll” Afterwards he just wraps his whole body around you and kisses you all over he probs falls asleep like immediately after though bc you wore him OUTTT

Joe Liebgott

He’s so gentle with your body, definitely takes his time exploring all of your hips and curves, kissing and leaving marks all over your body. He would take care of you so well, whatever you want he’ll give it to you, foreplay would also be like, so amazing with him, He would take his time pleasing you out until you were literally begging him to fuck you. “You like that baby? How good does it feel baby, tell me. ” I think he wouldn’t shy away from telling you how good you’re making him feel too, “Fuck, you feel so fucking good, doll” He’s so passionate and rough but also gentle? He definitely would talk you through it the whole time. “You can cum baby, you got it”, he would make SURE you cum more then once the whole time, after he would be so sleepy and cute with you, “I love you so much doll, you know that right?” He would be so vulnerable and soft afterwards 😭

Bill Guarnere

Oh boy. I’m praying for you bae. This man would be giving you the time of your LIFE, he would make you feel so fun and wild the whole night, he wouldn’t waste time sucking on your neck and chest while fiddling with your underwear. He would touch you exactly where you need him and this man would be AMAZING at foreplay, literally touching you until you are pleading for him to fuck you. He’s rough and slow at first, he’d be so firm and strong, after awhile though he would pick up the pace and literally fuck the life out of you, I think he would also talk you through it the whole time, saying a mixture of filthy and sweet things to you all at once omg, “I love fucking you y/n, God you feel so damn good” I think he would call out your name as he finishes omg. He would make you cum at LEAST 2 times before you guys finished, after he would kiss you and put on a movie for you guys to watch, “I love more than anything doll”

George Luz

bro is so excited. He’s so sweet to you, kissing and hugging, just reminding you how much he loves you. I think he would LOVE the idea of just putting hickies all over your neck to show everyone you’re his and only his. He becomes a total mess when he starts fucking you, like he can’t contain the praises that come out of his mouth when he’s inside you. “mhm you feel so fucking good baby” he loves eye contact when he’s inside you, there’s just something so passionate and special about it to him. Makes sure you cum before him, but let me tell you he STRUGGLES not to cum to quick, you just feel so good he can’t help it. He gets so vocal before he finishes, telling you how good you’re making him feel and repeating your name like a daily mantra. He Definitely tells you he loves you while cumming. After he’s so soft and sweet to you, “Do you need any water, or a towel, anything? With some of the best cuddles EVER

Bull Randleman

He would be so gentle and full of love, he would ask you a million times if you wanted to continue, he would be so slow, taking his time with you and really working you up to him fucking you, kissing you so soft, and his hands would work MAGIC around your body, when he first put his cock in you, he would be at a loss of words, like you feel so good he has to remind himself not to cum right then and there. both of you would feel absolutely amazing the whole time, he would be so good to you, praising you and encouraging you to cum the whole time, and reminding you how much he loves you. “Hmm you feel like heaven sweet thing, you’re so perfect” He would be so intimate, resting his forehead on yours and just repeating to piston in and out of you while you come undone under him. “Cum for me baby” After he would hold you and wash you off with a towel and some water, “did you like it baby? I love loving you honey” AHHH HES SO SWEET 🥹

Eugene Roe

He prepares everything out for you, and He is so kind and loving the whole entire time, he would literally worship your body up and down. he would always asking if what he’s doing is comfortable or not to you. “Is this okay, love?” “Does it feel good baby?” OMG and he loves to praise you in French, you really got this man going back and forth between french and english 🤣 he would get so overwhelmed by your beautiful body and how good you make him feel he would be able to pick a language LOL Also let’s talk about how he would be AMAZING at foreplay!? Like he would take his time and please your body so well omg. He definitely makes sure you finish first and he is a KING at aftercare, he would make you a soft bath with bubbles, and make you some food and water, and tell you how good you were to him and how much he loves you, he so grateful for you omg 😭

Part 2 will be up soon!

#ithinkabouttzu #band of brothers #hbo war #band of brothers react #band of brothers fluff #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers reaction #band of brothers ship #band of brothers smut #band of brothers oneshots #band of brothers reactions #lewis nixon #joe liebgott #joe toye #bill guarnere #george luz #bull randleman #eugene roe

252 notes · View notes

softguarnere · 9 months

Note

hi dove! i can't believe i've never requested anything on your blog! could you possibly write a enemies to lovers - lewis nixon x reader? maybe where feelings are discovered after one of them gets hurt/captured/something like that! you know i'm a sucker for angst with tons of fluff! thanks for being awesome!

mads <3

Coming Clean

Lewis Nixon x reader

A/N: omg hi Mads! Thank you so much for the request 🤗 I love your work (especially the way you write Nix) so I really hope you enjoy this! I edited and wrote the last half of this fic while sick, so if this is totally incoherent, that's why - and I'll just have to do my best to fix it when I'm better😆 (As always this is written for the fictional depictions from the show - no disrespect to the real life veterans!) 💕🕊️ Warnings: language, mentions of war

“I am not being overdramatic,” Nixon insists in what can only fairly be described as a rather theatrical tone.

Dick only glances up from across the table, an eyebrow quirked as he studies his friend. He nods slightly. Thank you for proving my point, the gesture seems to say.

“Nix,” he says, his tone serious, even though he opts for his friend’s nickname instead of a more reprimanding Lewis. “I don’t think comparing anyone to Sobel is fair.”

Nixon drops his fork and holds his hands up in surrender. “Whoa, okay. All I said was that if she wanted to, (Y/N) could give him a run for his money. That’s all.”

“They’re nothing alike,” Dick deadpans.

Nothing alike? A bit nondramatic, in Nixon’s opinion. An understatement for sure. He starts to protest, but Dick cuts him off.

“I think the two of you just got off on the wrong foot.”

Scoffing, Nixon leans back in his chair. “Well, I wouldn’t call overhearing someone explicitly talking about how they think you’re unqualified for your job getting off on the wrong foot. But close enough, I guess.”

“That’s not what I said.”

The voice is enough to startle both Nixon and Winters – although the ginger presses his lips together in a way that suggests he’s only just managing to repress a smile as he takes in your arrival on the scene. Nixon, on the other hand, has to forcibly close his mouth to stop from gaping at your sudden presence.

“What I said,” you continue. “was that I wasn’t sure how well a Yale man would hold his ground amongst the other officers.”

A frown tugs at the corners of Nixon’s mouth. For once, he’s grateful that part of his upbringing included lessons in how to conceal one’s true emotions lest someone gain the upper hand by using them against him. He presses his lips into a thin line and steels himself.

“Remind me where you studied again, Lieutenant?”

Your face pales. Bingo! You may have had him there for a second, but he’s struck a nerve.

“It was just a joke,” you say, your voice quiet.

Nixon only shrugs before turning back to Dick. There are footsteps as you walk away, but he doesn’t turn to see you go. Instead, he tries to concentrate on his tray of food. Tries being the operative word, since Dick seems intent on staring at him with that look of utter disappointment on his face that could make a saint feel guilty.

“What?” He stabs some broccoli with his fork, not looking up.

Dick sighs. “It was a joke, Nix.”

The potatoes on the corner of his tray are his next victim. Unseasoned and questionably cooked as they are, Nixon still puts all his focus into getting them firmly on his fork.

“Why does it bother you so much?”

Now he looks up. “Huh?”

“The joke,” Dick clarifies. “Why did it bother you so much?”

It’s not so much that the jab at his alma mater bothers him. It’s just . . . Huh. Why does it bother him? The way it’s said, perhaps, or the people it was said in front of. After all, it was one of the first things that you said upon Nixon’s arrival after his promotion. Not a good look for a newcomer in such a prestigious position. If he wanted people to poke fun at him despite his achievements, he could have just stayed home.

Sure, that’s probably it, he tells himself. You’ve just hit a nerve. No need to psychoanalyze this whole thing.

To Dick’s question, he only shrugs.

His friend, thankfully, does not press the issue.

. . .

Lewis Nixon, you’re beginning to realize, does not forgive and forget.

Well, that’s too bad, because all the other officers seem to think that he’s funny and charming. And they’re right. But clearly those qualities are not on display whenever you’re around. And you’re not about to ingratiate yourself to him by groveling for forgiveness over some stupid offhanded joke.

Too bad. Because you’re a big enough person to admit that despite his flaws, Lewis Nixon has his good qualities – not to mention that he’s handsome.

“Why are you staring at me?”

The sudden question draws you out of your thoughts. You blink, back in the present moment.

“Pardon?”

“You’re staring at me,” Nixon says. He doesn’t look up from the stack of mail that he’s censoring, intent on his work.

You avert your gaze, trying to ignore the heat you feel rushing to your cheeks. The words on the letter in front of you turn to nonsense the more you try to focus on them. If you work hard enough, you won’t be tempted to let your thoughts wander to the man sitting across the table from you.

“Here.” A letter lands on top of the one you’re reading as Nixon, once again, interrupts your thoughts. Startled, you look up to find him looking at you rather expectantly.

The letter he’s tossed to you looks familiar. It takes you a moment to realize that it’s written in your handwriting – a letter that you wrote to your family back in the states. When you glance up at him, he turns back to his own work.

“You spelled accommodate wrong. Thought you might want to fix it before sending it off to your family.”

Oh of course he would point out your mistake like that! Anyone else would have let it go. Your family will be so thrilled by the letter that they wouldn’t even give the misspelling a second thought.

The sigh that you push through your nose comes out louder than you expect it to. Nixon, however, doesn’t look up. Swallowing your pride, you aim for a tone that’s halfway pleasant.

“Thank you, Nixon.”

Is it your imagination, or does the corner of his mouth twitch slightly? A smirk, perhaps.

“You’re welcome, (Y/L/N).”

. . .

Though the world no longer trembles with the barrage of artillery fire, you keep your hands pressed firmly over your ears, staying low in the foxhole. Is it the cold causing you to shake, or the adrenaline that still courses through your veins?

You had been out making rounds when the shelling began, just trying to make sure that the rest of Easy Company was okay. The shellings are always unexpected, but this one caught you out in the open, exposed. You had had to dive into the nearest foxhole, hoping for the best as you hid from the explosions just outside.

Someone had grunted when you fell into the foxhole, your elbow connecting with their stomach. There had been no chance to apologize over the loud, cracking booms that filled the air.

After a shelling, there always seems to be a moment – a split second, really – of silence before it all goes to hell again. Then the calls for a medic will break out and everyone will jump into action, throwing around orders amid the screams and groans of the injured.

Now, as you wait for the few seconds of silence, you feel the person beneath you shift.

“Sorry,” you mutter, your arms shaking as you attempt to push yourself off of them.

“Christ,” a familiar voice grumbles. “My fucking ribs.”

Nixon’s voice is all the motivation that you need to push yourself the rest of the way off of him. Still full of adrenaline, you push yourself back on your heels, staying low in the foxhole, but ready to leave at a moment’s notice.

The Princeton man rubs his ribs. “You came out of nowhere. That really – “ He pauses, his expression shifting into one that you’ve never seen on him before as his brows furrow. Gently, he leans towards you. “Hey, (Y/N). Are you okay?”

“I-I’m fine.”

“You look – “

Ka-BOOM!

The air splits in two as the second round starts. The shell must hit somewhere very near your foxhole, because the reverberations its impact sends through the ground cause you to topple forward, straight into Nixon.

Before you can even think about pushing yourself away from him again, something strange happens: you feel his arms wrap around you, drawing you in, close and tight, as the barrage continues. You bury your face in his shoulder.

When the second round ends, you both remain still, breathing heavily as you wait for whatever comes next. Only when it’s clear that the Germans are no longer firing do you pull away from each other. Neither of you looks the other in the eye.

“Sorry about your ribs.”

“Huh? Oh. They’re fine.”

Neither of you leaves the foxhole until absolutely necessary. And the next time that the Germans begin firing, when you somehow find yourself back in the same foxhole, neither of you seem to question how easily you wrap your arms around each other, bracing for the impacts and explosions.

The fog of war is a hell of a thing.

. . .

“Medic! We need a medic!”

The call is so unexpected that Nixon actually stops midsentence and turns his attention towards the panicked voice. Several others follow suit. After all, in the middle of Berchtesgaden, who would need a medic? It’s not like they’re in combat. And there’s nothing and no one around that should be putting anyone in danger.

Dick jumps into action immediately. Of course he does; he cares so deeply for his men – anyone can see that. It’s especially evident in this moment as he steps forward to intercept the panicked looking Talbert.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

“(Y/L/N) needs a medic.”

Despite his wishes, Nixon feels his heart skip a beat at the mention of your name. It’s because of the startling and unusual news that Tab is delivering, he tells himself.

“For what?” he asks at the same time that Dick takes charge of the situation, charging down the street they’ve been standing on, yelling out that he needs to find Doc Roe.

As soldiers snap to attention trying to find the trusted medic, Nixon moves closer to Talbert.

“What happened to (Y/L/N)?”

Talbert takes a step back, his eyes wide, like he’s being confronted by a madman. Sure, Nixon’s tone was a little demanding – a little worried – but there’s really no need for the other man to look so shocked.

“A couple of us were out exploring the woods,” Tab explains. “She caught her ankle on a root and tripped. Might be just a sprain, but it looks pretty nasty.”

“Where is she now?”

“We got her back to the house that she was quartering in – Hey! Nix, where are you going?”

Talbert’s voice fades behind him as Nixon rushes down the street. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’s vaguely aware of people stopping to stare at him as he passes, his pace a barely restrained run.

Several shocked faces look up at him when he bursts into the house. He stops in the doorway of the living room, staring into where you are.

You sit on the couch, one leg propped up beside you. Other than the swelling in your ankle, you look okay – if not a little surprised, that is, to see Nixon gaping at you like this. For what it’s worth, the few Easy men who are scattered throughout the living room look just as stunned.

“(Y/N),” Nixon breathes. Coming back to himself, he clears his throat, willing his heart rate to slow down to normal levels.

“Um . . . I think we should – we should maybe clear out, yeah guys? Give (Y/N) some room to breathe,” Babe suggests.

Casting glances between you and Nixon, the other men squeeze past him in the doorway as they make their way out of the house. Behind him, the door closes, but Nixon doesn’t move. Somewhere within the house, through all the silence between the two of you, a clock chimes to signal the top of the hour.

“Can I help you?” You finally ask.

“We’re at the end of the war.” Nixon’s voice, once again, is louder than he intended it to be. He clears his throat again before pushing on. “We’re at the end of the war, and you somehow got hurt.”

“I tripped in the woods. So what?”

“So what? I was worried about you!” The words are out of his mouth before they have his permission to be spoken. They’ve escaped before he truly grasps the gravity of what he’s just said.

You quirk an eyebrow – a rather sarcastic expression that he’s come to know on you, but your voice is quiet when you ask, “You were worried about me?”

He was worried about you, he realizes suddenly. And he’s been worried about you for some time now, though he can’t place when his feelings towards you softened, when he started to care.

“Yeah,” he admits. “I want you to get home safely.”

“Why is that?”

His head spins. Maybe you should have been put in intelligence, the way that you’re pressuring him for answers while keeping a collected tone. It’s exasperating, honestly, how you’ve somehow gained the upper hand.

But part of him . . . likes the feeling it gives him when the two of you spar like this.

Something tugs at the corners of your mouth. It might be a smile you’re trying to suppress, or one of the smirks that he’s come to know so well.

“Nixon, I think you’re very bad at expressing your emotions.”

He blinks. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” With your propped leg taking up the space beside you on the couch, you instead gesture to the chair that sits nearby. Without knowing why, Nixon takes a seat. It’s a bit like waiting outside the principal’s office, the anticipation of it all. “But,” you continue. “it’s kind of cute to see you so flustered.”

You’re messing with him, surely. Yet he can’t find any sort of witty comeback.

After a moment of staring at each other, you nod with the assurance of someone who has finally made up their mind and is resigned to their fate. “I think it’s time I finally came clean.”

“About?”

“I think you know. But just to watch you squirm, I’m going to start at the beginning.”

He’s heard you tell stories before. The two of you could be here for a long time.

But, he thinks as you start your narrative, he’s starting to realize that he wouldn’t want it any other way.

#band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers fanfic #lewis nixon x reader #lewis nixon #my writing #mutuals #tumblr friends

98 notes · View notes

footprintsinthesxnd · 10 months

Text

Forgive Me

Pairings: Lewis Nixon x f!reader. Summary: When Lewis Nixon first met Easy Company’s female medic he realised it was love at first sight and it was even better when she reciprocated those feelings. But nothing ever goes smoothly and in the forest of the Ardennes Nixon loses something dear. Warnings: scenes of war, blood, injury, character death, implied sex, graphic images, hurt. Disclaimer: any writing of Band of Brothers characters is strictly based of their fictional representation within the show and is meant as no disrespect to the real hero’s.

Thank you @callsign-phoenix for proofreading.

Y/n had never really thought she would die, it was always in the back of her mind like a nagging doubt, always ready to make itself known but in truth, she never actually thought it would be her. Dying is messy and painful; she had witnessed enough men writhing and screaming in agony as they flailed around like a fish, gasping for air as they desperately clung to their organs that threatened to spill out, blood pooling around them like a deathly halo. Y/n had held lives in her hands, comforted them, and tried to put the many pieces of them back together. It was brutal and cruel, anyone who could romanticise death in her eyes was a fool, there was nothing romantic about it. But she never thought it would be her.

The woods of the Bois Jacques had been unusually silent, the frozen winds having ceased to disturb the trees above her, the soft crunch of her boots on the icy ground and the soft chattering from the foxholes around her was the only noise. Y/n crouched down beside an occupied foxhole, the crumpled brown cover moved and two heads poked out.

“Hey Doc,” Guarnere's voice was gruff and his sleepy eyes travelled up her small frame. Babe sat beside him with a lopsided grin on his face. Both of them were consumed by exhaustion, dark purple bloomed beneath their dull eyes, hot breath leaving their chapped lips in small puffs of condensation.

“You boys doing okay?” She asked quietly, conscious of the other paratroopers trying to catch some sleep in the foxholes around them.

“Not too bad Doc, not too bad,” Guarnere replied, burying his head further into the itchy brown army-issue winter coat.

“You okay, Babe?”

“Never better Doc, I’m living the dream,” he joked, his cheeks rose and his signature cheeky grin graced his lips. Y/n smiled at them both, despite everything, all the horrors they had seen, those two always managed to find something to smile about.

“Good,” Y/n stood, groaning inwardly as her knees clicked, joints crunching as she tried to straighten them. She felt old. She joined the paratroopers as a young woman but she’d be leaving the Ardennes at least 20 years her senior.

Y/n continued her walk through the forest, passing Eugene on her way through, her fellow medic gave her a sympathetic smile, his eyes glassy as if he wanted to cry but couldn’t quite bring himself to show it. Y/n felt for Gene, she understood how he felt, the pain and agony that rested silently behind his eyes like a constant reminder of the tragedies they had endured.

The CP was ahead of her, in a small wooden shack that housed the battalion CP in the forest. Dick Winter’s characteristic red head could be seen moving around, a flash of colour in the otherwise monochrome landscape. She waved as she approached and Dick nodded to his left.

“He’s over there,” he motioned, knowing exactly who she had come to see. Y/n sent him a small, appreciative smile before continuing over to his foxhole. She lifted the flap and slipped down beside him, a small smirk on her lips as she gazed upon his sleeping form. The creases that normally settled between his eyebrows had been smoothed out, his ebony hair was ruffled and unkempt and his face was littered with stubble compared to his normally clean-shaved look. His large winter coat hugged him closely and Y/n couldn’t help but admire the soft snores that escaped from his lips.

“Hey Lew,” she nudged his shoulder gently. “Lew?”

He groaned, causing Y/n to let out a small giggle as he scrunched his face in disgust from this intrusion on his sleep. She ran her hand over his stubbled cheek, coaxing him from his slumber.

“Y/n?” He mumbled sleepy, his voice thick and raspy and ever more sexy than normal. “What are you doing here, Love?” He propped himself up, gripping hold of your shoulders and pulling you into his chest. You hummed appreciative of his warmth.

“I just wanted to see you,” she whispered, nuzzling her cold nose into his neck, causing him to gasp at the sudden intrusion.

Lewis placed his lips to her forehead, pressing his nose into her hair and inhaling deeply. Lewis Nixon, the light of her life. He never failed to make her smile, make her feel safe, and make her feel loved. Y/n lost count of how many nights Lewis had spent with his hands wrapped tightly around her thighs as he made love to her. The fleeting ghosts of a kiss that they stole when no one was looking. His hand brushed against hers during briefings. His smile never failed to take her breath away.

“I missed you,” he pouted, his dark eyes resembling those of a puppy.

“But you saw me a few hours ago,” she protested, laughing at the grown man’s hurt expression.

“But I want to be with you all the time. I love you,” Lewis admitted sheepishly. It’s not like you hadn’t said ‘I love you’ before, but Lewis was a man of actions more than words when it came to Y/n, he showed her that he loved her nearly every minute of every day but he very rarely confessed his feelings, instead choosing to give her a breathtaking kiss, or an especially long hug.

“I love you too,” she admitted, placing her lips to his for a few seconds. Lewis’ hand managed to wrap its way into her hair, pulling her close as his tongue began dancing along her lips. He pulled her up into his lap so she could straddle him, pulling her impossibly close. Y/n groaned as Lewis began to knead her thighs with his large hand.

“Lewis, we can’t. Not here,” Y/n mumbled against his neck as she placed hot, open-mouthed kisses on his exposed flesh.

“Why not,” Lewis groaned, moving his hips inwards slightly to meet hers.

A sudden earth-shaking explosion caused them to pull apart, breathlessly staring at each other as another mortar shell hit. Shouts from outside the foxhole caused (y/n) to scramble to her feet.

“MEDIC!”

“No Y/n, I won’t let you go out there. It’s too dangerous,” Lewis pleaded, grabbing onto the sleeve of her coat, and pulling desperately at the fabric.

“I have to go, Lew, it’s my job. I’ll come back to you, I promise. I always do.” She threw herself forward into his arms, giving him one last kiss before she disappeared into the forest. Lewis watched in horror as she fled into the exploding forest, artillery rounds hitting the trees causing them to erupt into the air, splintering into thousands of pieces that fluttered to the ground like confetti. The explosions seared the air and earth in a way that left it devoid of life, obliterating everything in its wake. Dick dived into the foxhole beside Lewis.

“Where’s Y/n?” He shouted over the artillery barrage.

“She went out there,” Lewis all but sobbed. “Somebody was calling for a medic.”

Dick gave Lewis a sympathetic look as both men watched in horror as the forest floor erupted beneath the paratroopers' feet. Nothing in basic training could have ever prepared them for this.

Y/n sprinted through the forest, trees erupting beside her, sending shards across her path. The wailing for a medic continued and despite the chaos surrounding her and the thrumming of her heart loudly in her ears, Y/n remained calm. She had a job to do and the sooner it was done the sooner she would be back in Lewis’ arms. Earth flew up into her face as the mortar round blew away the Earth before her, the sound of the explosion came with a terrible echo as if it were an anguished cry from God.

Y/n’s ears were ringing, high pitched whistling filled her mind, clouding her judgment and making her movements sluggish. Her eyes watered, eyelids holding back the great floodgates as the agonising pain began to build, moving through her body like some great torrential wave, washing over her and muffling everything that surrounded her. Nothing made sense. She cried out; screaming into the nothingness. Her fingers were sticky and warm as the blood flowed from her, draining her of any feeling. The thick iron liquid filled at the back of her throat causing her to splutter, drowning in her own blood. If only someone could have heared her over the German artillery.

Lewis poked his head out of the foxhole, looking out onto the field of devastation. There was nothing left, no trees stood tall, and the snow was no longer white but stained crimson and brown. Lewis watched as a few other heads popped up from the holes, glancing around in disbelief. They had made it through another night. Jumping up without a second thought Lewis headed away from the CP, Dick’s voice calling after him as he blatantly ignored him. He needed to find her, Dick would understand but he needed to find her. He ran like a madman, stumbling, falling, and regaining his balance. He didn’t care. He knew the other paratroopers were giving him sideways glances, the whispers of ‘Nixon’s finally lost it’ followed him.

To him, it felt like an eternity until he found you but it had been mere minutes, he’d been just minutes away from her. His movements stilled when he reached her, boots skidding to a husky, scuffing up the snow.

Eugene had been the one to find her, he had bandages pressed to her side, and the once white fabric was stained a deep scarlet like the pool that surrounded her now small pale frame. Eugene had her in his lap, supported by his chest as he hugged her close, rocking her form slowly as he whispered sweet nothings.

Lewis dropped to his knees feeling all the air rush from his lungs, he gasped but nothing happened. He’d always wondered how he would die and now he felt like he would die suffocating in the snow in Belgium. His eyes became full and heavy with unshed tears but he couldn’t blink, couldn’t pull his eyes away from her.

“Captain Nixon, I’m so sorry…” Eugene began, but Lewis held up his hand.

“Don’t. Don’t say it.” He crawled closer, each movement seemed sluggish and uncalculated but he made it. Her eyes were still open, blinking up at him slowly.

“Lew..?” She began, but Lewis pulled her close to him, quieting her.

“It’s okay Love, I’ve got you now. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

A faint smile ghosted her lips causing Lewis’ heart to clenched painfully as if someone was pulling it from within his rib cage, wrenching it from his chest. She groaned a little as Lewis tried to prop her up in a more comfortable position.

“I’m so… sorry… Lew,” she spoke slowly, the blood gurgling at the back of her throat and escaping from the corner of her mouth. Lewis wiped it away quickly, placing a delicate kiss on her brow.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for my brave, beautiful girl. You don’t need to apologise,” he could feel the tears making their inevitable path down his cheeks, burying his windswept flesh but he barely noticed, too consumed by the utter torturous image that lay before him.

“I think I have to go, Lew,” she whispered, looking up at him through hooded eyelids, her lashes fanning out her pale cheeks as she blinked slowly.

“No Sweetheart please, I need a little more time,” his begging was futile, they both knew it. Lewis could see Doc Roe’s hand twitch as she began to splutter, choking on her own blood.

“I’m sorry, Lew.”

“I know you are Sweetheart, I know but it’s not your fault. Alright? You were doing your job and you’re so good at it, you’re so good at it. I love you so much,” Lewis placed his lips firmly to Y/n’s as if he could kiss the life back into her. “It's okay if you need to go…l…I’ll be right here with you…always.” Lewis began to choke on his words and he felt Eugene rest a gentle hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay.”

And just like that the life drained from her eyes, once bright and full of hope now dull and leaving darkness in their wake. Lewis was sure he could feel her soul leaving, rising into the bright morning sky, leaving behind the horrors of the Ardennes and finally having the peace she deserved. Lewis lay her body down gently onto the pink snow, cradling her face one last time. “Please forgive me.”

He hastily removed his jacket, placing it over her delicate frame. “In case she gets cold,” he muttered to Eugene as he turned to leave, his tears now falling down his face in generous streams. He couldn’t bear to watch them take her away, not his Y/n, not like this. Lewis found a small, half-finished foxhole near an intact tree, its branches providing some shelter from prying eyes and he wept. It was natural to cry, it felt good to let it all go, the pain, the heartbreak, all of it. He had loved Y/n Y/l/n with all his heart, with all his being, his soul and yet it seemed no matter how much you love someone you can’t always keep them, sometimes you have to set them free.

Dick appeared soon after the news of her death had spread. He found Lewis sitting under a tree, his usually round, jolly face was red and swollen, his chapped lip oozing blood from where he had chewed it worriedly, his hair dishevelled from where he’d run his fingers through it hundreds of times. He’d never seen Lewis like this before, never seen him so broken.

“I’m so sorry, Nix,” he began but his friend only stood, shaking his head carefully.

“She’s gone Dick, she’s gone and I’ve never felt so broken,” Lewis choked on his words, the hysterical sob he’d been trying to contain for the last hour gradually making its way to the surface.

“I know she is, Nix and I understand if…”

“NO, YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND DICK! I LOVED HER!” Lewis bellowed, his voice echoing through the shattered clearing. “I loved her and she is gone and it’s broken me. I’m broken.” Lewis turned away and took several steps away from his friend before he stopped. “You’ll make sure she has a proper burial won’t you?” At that moment Lewis Nixon resembled a small boy, his lip quivering, large chestnut eyes like large orbs staring up at his friend.

“Of course, Nix.”

Lewis nodded, seemingly satisfied with Dick’s answer. “Good,” was all he said before he disappeared into the forest.

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

Taglist: @wkndwlff @a-reader-and-a-writer @callsign-phoenix @imjess-themess @averyhotchner @mayhem24-7forever @ssprayberrythings @xoxabs88xox @luckyladycreator2 @abaker74 @elenavampire21 @classyunknownlover @okiegirl24 @flashyourgreeneyesatme @airedale17 @shadowolf993 @callmemana @t-nd-rfoot @desert-fern @cherrycola27 @jstarr86 @starkleila @alexxavicry @roostette @floralfloyd @soulmates8 @depressed-friend-blog @mayhemmanaged @shanimallina87 @shadowsintheknight @bcon24 @books-are-escapes @yeahcurrahhe-e @iceman-kazansky @softly-writes @softguarnere @msmercury84 @floralfloyd

#lewis nixon #band of brothers #BoB #101st airborne division #airborne #101st airborne #easy company #Nixon #lewis nixon x reader

80 notes · View notes

brassknucklespeirs · 2 years

Text

Tᴏ Bᴇ Nᴇᴇᴅᴇᴅ [Lᴇᴡɪs Nɪxᴏɴ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

Genre: Sad fluff

Warning: Depiction of concentration camps, depiction of reader hurting herself on purpose, general war stuff

Prompt: Request from @vibing-away “Alright, can you do this trope with a few minor changes? The reader is known to be calm and composed. Her general unwavering happy demeanor got the company through tough times, but she bottles up her own until she breaks. Bonus, if the reader is vulnerable and quiet for a period after.”

Post is: “the single most heartbreaking and hard hitting trope in media is when the light-hearted joker character that usually makes everybody else laugh and lightens up the dark situations with their presence alone breaks down crying and literally just can't stop because then you know it's really very seriously awfully sad for real” from @rocksalt-and-pie

A/N: i havent proofread this so sorryyyyy, also this isnt my best writing but it’s been sitting in my draft for a few days bothering me so i decided to just finish it and post it before i go insane

Most of Easy company had begrudgingly learned that Germany was a beautiful country, contrary to the painting they had been creating in their minds, with no dark, menacing clouds and lurking figures around every corner. Y/N, on the other hand, knew it would be a sight to see, and aside from the clearly uneasy faces of the locals who had to deal with this new infill of rather harsh American soldiers, the town they had settled in was bright and held a strong sense of European class to it.

The officer in question had been thinking this with a look of fascination as she wandered around the cobblestone streets, taking in everything she could around her when she heard the news of Captain Nixon’s return from his drop with the 17th Airborne Division. Her once calm smile morphed into a look of excitement, her lips tugging even further across her cheeks as she thanked the messenger sent for her before she took off into a sprint to the temporary officers’ housing. Her feet carried her past several of her men who all smiled fondly at the woman, their eyes following her after she passed them with her own adoring smirk and a wave of her hand. They laughed to themselves, not being able to stop the tug they all felt on their heartstrings at the sight of the toothy grin they loved so much.

Y/N was a beacon of light to Easy company, the sun that continued to glow even after the clouds had threatened to cover her shine. She had singlehandedly kept morale from hitting rock bottom at so many points of this seemingly never ending war, always ensuring that the men had at least one thing to smile at, whether that be her own beaming face or the badly told jokes that they couldn’t stop themselves from chuckling at. Even with her being a platoon commander and lieutenant, she was a sister figure to many of the men, one that had gotten them through the toughest of times with both her brilliant leadership skills and cheerful, calm nature. To many of the younger boys, she was like a dotting mother, keeping them safe and happy in a world that wanted to see them suffer. When asked, any of the men would tell you she was a breath of fresh air in such a suffocating war, especially those such as Lewis Nixon and Dick Winters, who had founded close friendships with her since the very beginning all those years ago in Camp Toccoa.

The latter of the men stumbled into Y/N on his own walk over to see the former, chewing away at the piece of bread he held in his hand. He greeted her with a sheepish smile as he always did, and in return she flashed him a grin, linking her arms with his while he held his food out to her. She leaned over to take a rather large bite out of it, a giggle leaving her lips quiet at the look he gave her.

“That’s what you get for offering me your food, Dick. That’s on you.” She uttered to him matter-of-factly to which he shook his head with a smile, taking another bite as they stepped through the door of the house. The two looked around in search for the intelligence officer, Dick calling his name a few times in question. A yell in response sounded from one of the rooms closest to the red headed man, leading him to be the first to enter it.

“Dog, making combat jumps with the 17th while i’m in supply briefings all morning.” Y/N heard him tease as she quickly followed him into the room, standing beside the man. Her gaze stopped upon the officer they’d been looking for as he sat with his back towards them, untying his jump equipment from his legs.

“Yeah, lucky me.” He replied, the woman taking note of the fact his voice sounded solemn and his shoulders were slumped. She stepped forward closer to the man in front of her, her gentle smile not dropping from her lips even as her eyebrows knitted together slightly in concern.

“Hey Lew.” The woman called to him causing the man to barely glance over his shoulder with a forced smile and a mumble of her name and a greeting. Her smile dropped slightly at this, not use to the man being so dismissive of her.

"You know, congratulations. You’re probably the only man in the 101st with three combat stars over his jump wings.” The major spoke, clearly not picking up on the energy being passed around the room. Y/N reached behind her to give him a gentle smack to the chest to stop him from trying to make jests, her gaze never moving from the intelligence officer. Dick paused his chewing for a moment to cast a glance of confusion down at the woman, a look she caught as she looked back over her shoulder with widened eyes and a shake of her head.

“Not bad for someone who’s never fired his weapon in combat, huh?” The dark haired man asked, a hint of bitterness buried underneath each word. The two figures standing in the room looked away from each other to focus back on him as he spoke, Dick opening his mouth to respond.

“Really? Really, you’ve never-”

“-Nope.”

“Hmph. Not even with all the action we’ve seen?”

“Not a round.” The intelligence officer finished, his head moving to glance at the woman who stood closest to him out of the two friends. Their eyes met and the look she sent confirmed to him that she knew about his down demeanour. He glanced away from her, not wanting to have a non-verbal conversation with her as he stood and moved to the table in the corner of the room. Her eyes fell on the bottle of Vat 69 that lay before him, lips pursing in concern as he poured himself a glass and threw it back quickly.

“So, uh. How’d it go? This morning. The jump.” Dick asked, causing the woman to whip her head around to him, a look of disbelief crossing her face as she realised he really couldn’t figure out that Nix was hurting. The man slammed the bottle of alcohol down on the table as soon as the words finished leaving the major’s mouth, a look of indifference on his face as he turned to face the two of them. Lewis’ eyes met Y/N’s again, a flash of pain showing in his pupils before he turned his gaze over her shoulder to the man who sat leaning against the set of drawers by the door. He flattened his lips, nodding his head several times before opening his mouth.

“It was great. Fantastic.” He took several steps over to the couch by the window as Y/N moved to lean against the wooden frame of the bed, not but a metre behind him. “Took a direct hit over the drop-zone. I got out. Two others got out.”

“The rest of the boys?” Dick asked, the woman having to hold herself back from smacking herself in the face out of frustration of his stupid questions.

“Oh they blew up over Germany somewhere. Boom.” Lewis said, each word biting with malice. The two men continued to exchange words while the woman stood watching the intelligence officer, taking in the way his jaw clenched with anger and his eyes flickered with anxiety. Her heart ached for the man she had come to care for so deeply, wanting nothing more than to reach out to him and hold him in her arms. She saw the way his fingers gripped so tightly to the glass he held, her own hand moving absentmindedly to grab his free hand, giving it a squeeze gently. The man had been preparing to walk out of the room to look for another bottle of Vat 69 when she had done this, pausing his movement for a moment. He glanced at her and the hand now in his before looking back to Dick and continuing their dialogue though he made no move to pull away from her. If anything, he seemed to gravitate closer to her, taking in the calming effect she always seemed to have on him as a comfort he would do anything to keep.

The man tugged her with him as he went on a search more liquor, pulling her to an empty chair before giving her a nod to sit, letting go of her hand. Dick followed the two out of the room, his eyes taking note of the way they held onto each other and the silent conversations the two seemed to have. He walked into the room, scuffing his boots along the floor as he thought over his next words carefully. Lew’s chair scrapped along the ground as he pulled it closer to Y/N’s before he sat, throwing his feet up on her lap as he often did. One of her hands moved to grip at his shin, giving him assurance that she was there as she listened to the men continue their conversation. She sat tightlipped as Dick informed Lew of his demotion, her eyes downcast as she just tried to be a presence for the latter in a time where he needed it, as she always did.

The red headed major asked one final question and at the huff of a laugh that left Lew’s mouth, promptly left the room. He spared a glance at the woman in front of him, sending a small smile and a nod to her as he walked away, which she returned. The door clicked as it closed, leaving the room in an echo of silence. The two seated at the table made no move to talk, one staring at his glass and the other turning her gaze to look upon his face in concern. They sat like this for a few minutes as she racked her brain for something to say to the hurting man yet he bet her to it as he opened his mouth again.

“Quit staring at me like that, will you?” He spoke, his eyes not leaving his glass as he took another sip. She huffed a sigh before shoving his legs off her lap and standing, moving to place herself atop the table directly in front of him, her boots pushing themselves against the chair he sat on to steady her weight.

“Looking at you like what Lew?”

“Like I’m some wounded animal.”

“I wasn’t looking at you like you’re a wounded animal. I’m looking at you like you’re a wounded man.” She mumbled with a trying smile to which he chuckled at.

“Is that supposed to make it any better?” He responded, but a small smile pulled at the corner of his lips as he finally moved his gaze to look at her.

“Lew, talk to me honey.” The woman said, her head tilting to one side. He looked up at her under his brows, sighing quietly as he placed his drink down and pulled his chair closer. The man moved to lay his head on her lap, his arms folding over her thighs as one of her hands weaved its way into his hair. His hands gripped at the top of her thighs gently while her thumb came to brush against the side of his face, moving the hair that covered his eyes away from them. He sat there for a moment, relishing in the warmth she radiated, comfort settling in his aching body. She smiled down adoringly at the man as he let the tension go from his body and melted into her touch, showing his vulnerability to her and only her.

The two had always been like this with one another, affectionate and comfortable. In another life, they both could have seen it being more than just close friends, however, this world had not been kind to them, in more ways than just this. He had a wife back home waiting for him and she, well, she would one day find a nice man to treat her right, to love her as he did. It would never be enough though, she knew she would always look back on their time together and imagine him in the shoes of the man she’d eventually end up with. Meanwhile, he would do the same with the wife he thought he’d stick around for, constantly comparing her with the woman he loved who would be far, far away from him with someone who was not him. This world had not been kind to them, so why would it change its mind now.

Lew sighed again, pushing his head to nuzzle into her stomach gently as his arms moved around her hips, twisting his fingers into the belt loops on the back of her pants, squeezing her tightly. Y/N continued to run her fingers through his hair softly, her nails scratching at his scalp lightly. She tilted her head to the side so she could see his face and when he noticed this he moved his so he could see her better, looking up at her with tired eyes.

“You don’t have to pretend you’re fine with me Lew, you know that.” She whispered to him calmly and as the words left her mouth, his eyes begun to well up with tears. He let out a quiet cry, it sounded dry and pained, and caused Y/N’s chest to clench with empathy. She angled her body slightly to the side so his face was tucked into her torso, hidden from the world as he gripped her hips for dear life while he continued to cry. “I wish I had the means to make it all better, to make this all disappear, but just know that we’re gonna get through this okay? You and me are gonna get through this together.” Her thumb moved to run across the space under the eye that was visible to her, brushing the tears away from his face as they fell. She continued to do this for several minutes as he cried quietly until it finally came to a point where he seemed to quieten down, laboured breaths being the only thing heard from his mouth. “Deep breaths for me Lew. There you go.”

The man let out a few more shaky breaths before inhaling deeply, collecting himself as well as he could. He lifted his eyes to look up at her again, taking in the calm look on her face and the tenderness in her eyes. She smiled down at him again, this time on show for him to see, which he returned on the form of a small twitch of the lip. He mumbled a thank you to her, and even from hearing just those two words, she understood everything he left unsaid to her. Thank you for supporting me, for holding me, for always being there for me, and thank you for loving me. Her smile widened, their eye contact never faltering even when he sat up, resting his chin his hands that now lay over her knees. Her hand reached out to brush the skin of his face once more, wiping away the last streak of tears on his cheeks.

“We all need a little help sometimes. We’re only human.” Y/N uttered to him, her light truly shining through, creating a halo of shine around her head as if she was his very own angel. Lewis stared at her silently for a moment, her eyes gazing back at him as they felt comfortable in each other’s space.

“You’re too good to me.” He mumbled, breaking the quiet so suddenly. Her eyebrows pulled together as a chuckle left her lips.

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. And maybe, you just deserve more than you think” She replied while jumping off the table carefully, giving him a gentle tap on the nose. “Now I have a platoon I need to sort out before I lose them all to the local ladies. Are you going to be okay for a while?” He nodded his head at her question, flashing her a small smile.

“I think i’ll manage.” Lewis responded, moving to take a sip from his glass, an action which she squinted at in doubt but let it go for the sake of the man who had gone through a lot for one morning already. She leant down to him, a hand placed on either cheek before placing a tender kiss to his forehead.

“I’ll be back before you know it.”

***

It had been a hard day, that was certain. With the discover of what seemed to be a prisoner camp of some sort, the whole battalion had been sent into disarray. Even with the ever present presence of Lewis by her side, something had curled deep in her stomach with uneasy. He himself held a look of discontent on his face, however, that had been a constant resting state for the man in recent days. After their small moment that day of his bad jump experience, Lewis had to learn the next day that his wife was leaving him and taking everything in the divorce. The man had been livid, especially with the news of her taking the dog. He had barely left Y/N’s side after that, clinging to her calm presence even more so than he usually did. Not that she minded, and in all honesty, she was almost thrilled with having him around so often at her side.

On arrival to the camp, Y/N noted the stench that wafted in the air, moving to cover her nose, as had many of the other boys. She glanced to Lew who, of course, sat beside her on the jeep, confusion and a hint of fear set in her eyes as they both rose from their seats and took several tentative steps forward. The gates were opened, Y/N and Lewis stepping into the camp standing close to each other, subconsciously trying to protect one another in the case of any unknown offence.

It didn’t take long for them to get a general understanding of this place, horror, sadness and grief latching on to every soldier that stepped foot on the grounds of the camp. Y/N felt it tighten in her chest as she refrained from breaking down on her knees in front of all of these people. They needed them, they needed her, so she slapped on a gentle smile and composed herself once more, stepping forward to help anyone who reached for her. The day went on like this, covering up her own emotions for the sake of those who were left so broken and so emotional themselves, and so she held them, smiled at them, did anything she could to ensure these people knew they were now safe.

It hadn’t got better for her after that with the news that she would be the only one needed to go to the woman’s camp from her company as they felt the need to have someone who they can feel more trusting of. Lew had secured her in his arms with a warm embrace before she left, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of her head. She had sent him off with a smile, forcing it over her slowly breaking exterior, refusing to show her already broken interior.

Nothing could have prepared her for what she saw after that, and if the men’s camp was hard enough to take in, then the women’s camp was a whole other level of awful. She had taken her helmet off and let her hair down at the request of one of the other officers who thought it be best to make it obvious she was a woman, her hair rustling gently with the wind as she entered the gates. Women had slowly begun to peak their heads out of the small huts, unsure of this new group of people before flocking towards her quickly at the sight of a fellow female, clearly with the Americans, the flag strapped tightly to her arm. They yelled this and that at her while sobbing hysterically, falling to their knees in front of the officer. Her eyes were struggling to focus on anything in particular as she looked from woman to girl to child. She picked up on so many things while looking at each one but had to try her best to block it out so she could focus on helping them there and now. It was hard to stop the flashing of death from her mind, especially those of the children, the babies, as she wandered through the camp, talking to as many women as she could.

When she arrived back to the officers housing, her feet moved on autopilot while her face held little emotion. The sound of the door opening made the one man still sat in the room look up. Ron stood to his feet, drink in his hand as he walked towards her, concern covering his face as he took in the dull look covering his friend’s features. He handed her the glass he held as an offering of comfort which she just took absentmindedly in her hand.

“Hitler’s dead. Killed himself in Berlin.” He mumbled to her almost happily, but no response of joy was seen from her as she wandered over to the square table that sat in the dining room, standing behind one of the chairs as she thought. There was that thing again; death. She had seen death before, she had even caused death before, hell, she’d almost seen her own death. But none of it, none, could have prepared her for what she saw today. And now with the news of Hitler taking his own life, the woman felt a single emotion bubble to the surface that did not often rise within her. Rage.

Pure, untainted anger coursed through her vein causing her hand to clench around the thin glass that she’d been handed. She looked up from the table she had been staring at, aware of the voice that had been talking to her which she continued to ignore. Her eyes landed on a grand mirror that sat opposite her on the wall, her gaze meeting that of deep orbs of fury. She walked slowly to the mirror, standing face to face with a woman she didn’t recognise, a dark storm running rampant through her eyes as she stared back.

Ron jumped as the sound of glass breaking could be heard echoing through the room, then again and again. Y/N’s fists had come in contact with the reflective surface, smashing away the smirking figure of an angry monster that had looked at her. He stood in shock as he watched her destroy the mirror before moving on to picking up one of the dining room chairs and throwing it into the wall, breaking it in the process. Then the next chair went, straight into a cabinet full of expensive looking plates and china, the shattering noises ringing through the room. She felt as if she was watching through someone else’s eyes as she destroyed anything she could get her hands on, blood dripping from the large scraps and cuts on her knuckles, glass imbedded deeply in some. Ron suddenly stepped forward as she lifted another piece of furniture, his hands wrestling it from her grip, throwing it behind him before grabbing her by the face so she would look at him. He didn’t even get the chance to say anything before she collapsed to the ground in tears, loud, pained sobs leaving her lips as the sound of fast footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs. Two men arrived at the same time in the doorway, catching sight of the mess of a room before seeing the two people sat on the floor, one of which was almost completely enveloped in the others arms.

“What the fuck.” Lip had muttered under his breath as Dick stepped into the room. Ron looked up at him as he approached, an expression of caution on his face. The red headed man took sight of the blood dripping down her hands, his mind flashing memories in violent colour for a moment before he shook it away, his eyebrows set in worry about the state of one of his closest friends.

“Lip, go grab Doc Roe. And Nix, get me Nix.” He called to the man behind him, who nodded and immediately ran off. “Let’s get her up.” The man said to Ron who nodded in agreement. Dick bent down to pull her up off the ground, calling her name gently a couple of times only for her to latch onto the man, arms around him while her face hid in the crook of his neck. He felt the wet feeling of tears crawling down the skin of his shoulder as she continued to sob, catching a glimpse of Ron watching behind her, a look of concern on his face as he too stood.

Gene rushed in with Lip close behind, who muttered that the intelligence officer was on his way, just as Dick had set her down on a couch in the living room, away from the mess she had created. Her sobbing had yet to die down to hiccups as her swollen eyes gazed upon the hands that continued to hold her by the waist. Dick had sat close to her, ensuring the woman who had become like a sister to him was feeling supported enough until Nixon showed up. She was thankful for the red headed man as his body heat reminded her that she wasn’t alone as she attempted to cry her broken heart back together. Gene begun pulling the pieces of glass from her hands, causing her to flinch every few seconds, her eyes now firmly set on the crimson that dripped down her fingers.

The harsh choke of a trapped cry sounded from her throat as she tunnel-visioned into the red shade, flashes coming hard and fast in her head. It was the faces and names that she had stopped herself from remembering to hold herself together for just that little bit longer, long enough that she could make those around her just that little bit happier. She had been digging her own dark pit of grief this entire time, a smile splashed across her face while she did, yet she had been surprised when she eventually tumbled into it, dirt now marring her beautiful features into something melancholic.

Lew stumbled through the door in a panic at that moment, almost tripping over the door frame as he ran into the room. His eyes caught sight of the mess of a room before anything else, but the sight of blood on the floor and the sound of her cries made him move again. He all but threw himself into the room he heard her in, taking in Gene kneeling in front of the woman on the floor, finishing the last stitch of her left hand knuckles, and Dick who sat beside her on the couch, holding her gently by the waist as she cried into his shoulder. He wasn’t even sure what had gone on in the short time since he’d last seen her but if this scene and the room over was anything to go by, it had not been good. He had no idea what he was going to show up to after he was found by Lipton and shouted a ‘come quick, Y/N needs you’ from the man, he’d quickly left the work he’d been trying to do to find out, however, this is not what he had expected at all.

The man made it to her side in a second, sitting down on her other side before tugging her from Dick’s arms without a word. She inhaled his scent as soon as he pulled her into his chest, feeling just the slightest bit more comfortable knowing he was there with her now. She cried and cried for what seemed like hours and as she finally fell into a round of gentler sniffly sobs, she noted that Gene, Lip and Ron had all left to the other room to give her some more privacy. Her two favourite boys were still sat by her side, exchanging a silent conversation over her head as she leaned closer into Lew’s side, her head nuzzling into his chest. She heard the man shush her gently, a hand running through her hair and settling on her back.

“Breathe with me Y/N. In and out.” He mumbled into her ear while his head nodded to the red headed man as they concluded their nonverbal talk. “I’m gonna take you to your room, is that okay?” She sniffed loudly before nodding slowly, her gaze moving to his face as she looked up at him. His heart almost broke at the sight of the pain in her teary eyes, red rimmed from being rubbed raw as she cried. Dick helped Lew get her to her feet before letting the latter take over completely, their feet leading them towards the door that led to the stairs. The man watched as the two disappeared, worried for his friend but happy that they had each other to get one another through the rough times. He shook his head with a small smile as he heard them ascend the stairs, ideas of the two never leaving each others side from here on out.

The two in question made it upstairs and into her bedroom, the door now closed firmly behind them as they both sagged onto the bed. The woman sat completely quiet for a moment as Lewis looked her over until her eyes met his and the waterworks started again. Her head instinctively fell to his lap as he sat on the edge of her bed, one of his hands instantly moving to her hair, playing with the ends of it gently as he rocked her slowly.

“You wanna talk about it honey?” He muttered quietly to her to which she immediately shook her head no to. He nodded even though she couldn’t see him. “Okay, that’s alright. Let it all out like this instead, that’s okay too.”

The man continued to just sit and hold her as she cried for almost an hour, her emotions seemingly never ending as she let out everything she’d been holding in for months. He had moved her to rest in his lap, her face hidden away on his shoulder, the tears leaking down onto his skin. No words left his mouth, only the quiet shushing and cooing he had been doing to calm her down, something that was finally starting to work as her sobs turned to sniffles again.

She inhaled through her nose, having to do so loudly as her nose blocked up from the snot that had started to gather. Even then, Lew watched on with the smallest of smiles while she wiped over her face with the sleeve of her shirt, wiping away the liquid that had dribbled down her skin. Her lips parted with shaky breaths leaving her mouth but overall she’d calmed to a quiet wail.

“Just breath Y/N. Nothing else you gotta worry about right now but breathing.” Lewis’ voice sounded in her ear causing her to raise her head from his shoulder to face him. He imitated deep breathing to encourage her to do the same which she followed through with, moving in sync with the man. After one last deep breath, the woman mumbled a quiet thank you, which he smiled at with a toothy grin.

“Nothing to thank me for honey. We all need a little help sometimes. We’re only human.” He recited the words she’d spoken to him several days prior causing a small smile to pull to her lips. “There you go, there’s that smile I love so much.”

Y/N stared at the man with puffy, red eyes and a slightly sniffle but he had never seen her more beautiful than he did then; raw, vulnerable and soul bearing. Their faces were close now, something they both only begin to notice when she shifted on his lap, accidentally nudging her nose into his. Neither pulled away though as they continued to stare at each other.

“Lew?” The woman called, her voice hoarse and choppy.

“Yeah?”

“I want you to kiss me. No, I need you to kiss me. Take it all away, please.” She mumbled to him and a moment later he leant forward to place his lips gently against hers. She melted instantly, letting his warmth wrap around her, holding her together in a way she knew no one else could in that second. His hands moved to her waist as she grasped at his cheeks carefully. Y/N wasn’t okay, no, but for this period of time, she felt whole for once, even if that whole was partially weakened. He was something she could never have until now, and after everything she had seen and everything she had done, she wasn’t holding back anymore. She needed him and he needed her, just like they needed oxygen or water. And just as he had a few days prior with her, she needed him now more than ever, his hands were the only thing that could hold her together, his voice the only thing that could talk her out of her dark hole of silence, his eyes the only thing she could gaze at and feel okay, even if only for a moment.

The two pulled away from each others reluctantly, their lips still brushing as they sat in silence. He smiled at her then, a smile that reached his eyes for the first time in a while, a grin that caused her to do the same, though it was small. She gazed at his face, eyes trailing over his cheeks, lips, and back to his own eyes.

“Please don’t ever let me go.” She whispered, her eyes welling up with tears again. He shook his head slightly, eyes never leaving hers as he moved his hands to her cheek, using his thumb to brush away a stray tear that fell against her skin.

“I would never dream of it.” He replied causing her to huff a pained laugh. He gave her cheek a gentle squeeze, pulling her gaze away from her hands. “I mean it, we’re in this together. We’re gonna make it through this together. Just like you said.” She nodded at his words before opening her own mouth.

��Just like I said.”

#this is not quite what i wanted it to be #but it's not bad so that's fine with me #welcome nixon to the club guys #finally did a fic for my mans #lewis nixon #lewis nixon x reader #nixon #band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers fluff #soft!nixon

124 notes · View notes

mads-weasley · 7 months

Text

Epiphany Pt. 11: Labyrinth

Lewis Nixon x Reader

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

inspo: labyrinth by taylor swift

A/N: covid finally got me, yall...and i wouldn't wish this on anyone (even the norman dike's of the world). thanks for being patient with this chapter! this is about the fictional portrayal of easy company on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: Easy's respite at Mourmelon-le-Grand gets cut short when they quickly deploy to hold the divisions of SS troops that break through the line in the Ardennes Forest.

Warnings: mentions of blood

DECEMBER 18, 1944: MOURMELON-LE-GRAND, FRANCE

“George,” (y/n) grumbled, giving him a smack on the shoulder. “Shut up! We’re trying to watch this!”

He turned toward her with a blank expression. ��I’ve seen this movie 13 times, okay?”

“Well, I haven’t, so shut up,” Joe Toye griped, whispering over his shoulder at the man.

For a brief moment, George’s John Wayne impersonation stopped, and (y/n) tried to focus on the movie, but Skip and Don erupted into a lively conversation behind her.

She swiveled around in her chair, her gaze fixed on them as she furrowed her brows in exasperation. “Guys! Seriously, I love you, but be quiet,” she hissed. “Please.”

“Apologies,” Skip murmured, raising his hand in a playful salute. “Shutting up, corporal.”

Rolling her eyes, she turned her attention back to the movie.

“Got a penny?”

She ignored him.

“Got a penny?” George whispered, drawing out the phrase.

She ignored him again.

He paused and took a drag of his cigarette. “Got a penny?” he called out in the quiet room.

Just as (y/n) turned to punch his arm, Lip turned around with his arms crossed, glaring at him with a shared frustration.

“What?” George laughed, grinning proudly.

Before she could say anything to him, the doors swung open, ushering in a blast of frigid air. The lights flicked on, and the paratroopers squinted and groaned.

“Come on! Quiet!” Two officers yelled, striding to the front of the room. “I said, quiet! Elements of the 1st and the 6th SS Panzer Division have broken through in the Ardennes Forest.”

The news left everyone stunned, and (y/n) exchanged a look of disbelief with Goerge.

“Now they’ve overrun the 28th Infantry and elements of the 4th. All officers report to respective HQs. All passes are canceled.”

The room erupted in complaints, but her thoughts were fixed on Lew. She had to find him before they mobilized. Getting up, she tugged her thin coat closer to her body as she pushed through the doors and was hit with the bitter cold.

As she turned toward Lew’s barracks, someone grasped her arm, gently pulling her to the side of the tent. Seeing Lewis’ familiar browns, she sighed. “I was just about to come find you.”

“So you’ve heard?” he asked, worry etched across his face. “Do you have any winter gear? Or ammo?”

Panic gnawed at (y/n) as she shook her head. “No, not yet. It’s bad, isn’t it,” she asked, looking around at the chaos that now enveloped the camp.

“Here,” he whispered, removing his dark brown scarf and wrapping it around her neck. “I’ll see if I can find you anything else.”

“But, Lew, you need-” she began, but he interrupted, keeping the scarf securely in place.

“No. You keep it.”

“What about you?”

Lew shrugged, and an icy gust of wind ran through the camp, sending a shiver through his body. “I’ll manage.”

Concern washed over her, and she looked up at him in disbelief. “Lewis Nixon, you need to-”

“Nix!” a voice called out, and they turned to see Dick, bundled up in what little winter clothing he could find. “We’ve got to go.”

Lew nodded and turned back to (y/n), quickly checking their surroundings. He leaned in and pressed a soft, reassuring kiss against her lips. “Please be careful, sweetheart. I love you.”

She closed her eyes, basking in his warmth before he pulled away. “You, too,” she murmured against his lips.

“I’ll find you once we get settled, alright?” He assured her, backing up slowly.

Taking one last look at her, he turned and joined Dick. (Y/n) stood for a moment, watching as they walked away. She knew she had to act fast to get ready for their deployment. Quickly, she turned and headed towards her barracks, scanning the area for her squad members.

In her hurried pace, she spotted George walking without his characteristic smirk. He seemed preoccupied, lost in his thoughts as he puffed on a cigarette. She rushed up to him, her boots crunching on the frost-laden ground.

“George,” (y/n) called out, trying to catch his attention.

George turned to face her. “I was wondering where you ran off to.”

She wasted no time in telling him the truth about the situation. “It’s bad, George,” she breathed out. “We need to grab any ammo and warm clothing we can.”

“Right,” he nodded, eyes widening for a moment.

They walked together toward the barracks, the biting cold gnawing at their skin. George, just like her, had no winter clothing, and they shared their concerns about the upcoming objective.

“Do you have anything for the cold?” she asked, worried for her friend.

He shook his head, a rueful smile on his lips. “Not a stitch. How about you?”

Her fingers instinctively touched the scarf around her neck, the soft fabric a comforting reminder of Lew’s presence. “I found this,” she stammered, her face heating up despite the chill in the air.

“You found it, huh?” George teased, his eyes glinting mischievously. “That’s funny because I just spotted Captain Nixon without his scarf a minute ago.”

“What a coincidence,” she mumbled, avoiding George’s playful gaze, her mind racing to come up with an excuse.

“Don’t worry, (y/n/n),” he grinned, leaning in conspiratorially. “I’m sure he just misplaced it,” he winked.

Rolling her eyes at George’s teasing, she playfully shoved him. “Whatever George.” The gravity of the situation reminded her that, scarf or not, they all had much more pressing matters to attend to.

(Y/n) sat sandwiched between Bill and Joe Toye in the troop transport, the vehicle’s rattling frame reverberating through her body. The biting cold was an ever-present enemy, and it threatened to gnaw at them and leave its mark. The body heat from the larger men on either side of her provided somewhat of a defense, pushing back the icy chill that constantly threatened to invade.

She huddled into Lew’s scarf, the comforting smell of his presence mingling with the faint traces of whiskey clung to the fabric. It was a meager substitute for his actual warmth, but it offered a semblance of comfort in the bleak situation they were facing.

“I just wanna know where they’re sending us,” Babe called out above the engine’s roar, voicing the collective concern. “And what we’re supposed to do with no ammo.”

(Y/n) shifted slightly, glancing over at George seated across from her. She shook her head, her expression reflecting a mix of uncertainty and worry. “I don’t know, Babe. Strayer isn’t even in the country.”

Her eyes flicked up to a replacement lighting a cigarette for Popeye.

“Hey, kid,” Bill called out, his teeth chattering. ”What’s your name, again?”

The boy looked over at Bill warily. “Suerth. Suerth Jr.”

“Got any ammo, Junior?” Babe asked quickly.

“Just what I’m carrying.”

“What about socks, Junior? You got extra socks?”

Looking around the truck confused, Suerth nodded once. “A pair.”

Skip immediately perked up from his position on the truck floor in front of (y/n), waving his index finger around. “You need four, minimum. Feet, hands, neck, balls…”

(Y/n) grinned as she and the rest of the men chimed in, “Extra socks warms them all!!”

“Okay, we all remembered that one. But did we remember the socks?” Skip joked, but the cold atmosphere had already seeped back into the truck. The rest of the men continued in conversation, but (y/n)’s mind wandered to a few weeks prior in Paris.

As the first rays of dawn fluttered through the curtains, the gentle light began to dance across the room. (Y/n) stirred, slowly waking from her peaceful slumber. She found herself in a moment of peace, her head resting on Lew’s chest, the steady beat of his heart a comforting lullaby.

The morning painted the room in a soft glow, illuminating the features of the man beside her. She watched him sleep, her eyes tracing the gentle curve of his nose, the shadows playing on his face. His lips were slightly parted, and the early morning light highlighted his features in a way that made her heart swell.

As if sensing her gaze, he stirred, eyelashes fluttering as he started to wake. The corners of her lips turned up in a tender smile, observing the moment as Nix slowly became aware of his surroundings.

His brown eyes met hers in a warm and sleepy gaze that made her heart skip a beat. He smiled back, a drowsy yet affectionate look that spoke of the feelings they’d shared the night prior. The sun continued its ascent, bathing the room in a golden hue.

Their eyes remained locked, a silent conversation passing between them. In that precious moment, words were unnecessary. With a gentle caress, (y/n) brushed a strand of dark hair from his forehead, her fingers lingering on his skin.

“You know,” (y/n) murmured, her voice soft as the morning breeze. “You look especially handsome in the morning light.”

Lew chuckled, the sound like music to her ears. “Flattery won’t get you everywhere, you know.”

“Maybe just a little closer,” she teased, shifting to face him more fully, her arms wrapping gently around his waist.

He grinned, the sunlight catching his eyes. “Can’t argue with that.”

Leaning in, he pressed a soft kiss to her lips, and the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them and the-

“(Y/n),” Bill shook her shoulder. “We’re here.”

Bill’s words jarred (y/n) from her memory, pulling her back to their present reality. Her eyes widened as she looked around, seeing that they were the last ones in the truck.

“Sorry,” she muttered, getting up and grabbing her gear quickly.

He watched her carefully for a moment. “You alright?”

“Yeah, she nodded, following him out of the truck. “Just got a lot to think about, is all.”

As her feet hit the frozen ground, the icy wind pierced through her. She shivered involuntarily, nuzzling into her scarf and tucking her hands under her armpits. The breath she exhaled turned into visible mist, fading into the icy air.

A smirk grew on Bill’s face, and he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Does all that thinkin’ have to do with a certain Captain?”

Her cheeks warmed at the implication, and she groaned, trying to walk off from him. “Bill, come on! First George, now you?”

He laughed, a hearty and comforting sound amidst the cold surroundings. ”Ahh come on, (y/n/n). You know we won’t say nothin’.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Seeking some respite from the chill, they gathered around a burning pit of gasoline. The flames flickered, casting a warm glow that provided some relief from the biting cold. (Y/n)’s fingers tingled with warmth as she extended them toward the fire, her squadmates gathering around for the shared heat.

Amidst the crackling of the fire, the distant rumble of a vehicle approached and grabbed (y/n)’s attention. Her eyes caught Lew’s familiar figure hopping out of a jeep with Dick.

“Wait right here. Don’t go anywhere,” he ordered the driver, clipboard in hand. Their eyes met, and his gaze conveyed a mix of worry, silently acknowledging the danger ahead and reassuring her in the same breath. Despite the cold, there was a flicker of warmth in those eyes. He nodded in her direction, his unspoken message clear: important matters awaited him with Colonel Sink.

She watched as he and Dick were soon engrossed in a rapid conversation with Sink, pouring over maps of their upcoming objective. For the second time in the last ten minutes, she was pulled from her thoughts by someone calling her name. This time it was Babe.

“Hey Bill, (y/n), Don. Come here, look at this.”

The trio looked at each other worriedly, following Babe to the main road. The sight that met their eyes was nothing short of harrowing.

There were bloody and worn soldiers as far as the eye could see, limping from the very place Easy was being sent to. Their faces were either blank or etched with pain and fear, their movements sluggish, uniforms stained with the evidence of the brutal battle they endured.

“What the…” Bill’s voice trailed off. They stood there, silent, their minds struggling to comprehend what was before them.

The only sounds that pierced the grim silence were the haunting echoes of boots on frozen ground and the heart-wrenching cries and groans of the wounded.

“What the hell is going on?” Malarkey whispered, his eyes focused on the battered soldiers.

Bill reached out and grabbed a soldier by the arm. “Hey, pal, what happened? Where the hell are you going?”

The man’s face showed pure exhaustion, and his words were weak as he spoke. “They came out of nowhere. They slaughtered us. You gotta get out of here.”

Babe appeared over Bill’s shoulder, a look of helplessness on his face. “We just got here.”

The soldier stared at them blankly for a moment before Bill grabbed his ammo bag. “Give me your ammo. Come on.”

“Take it. You’ll need it,” the man mumbled.

Nausea rose up (y/n)’s throat as she watched on. It had started as a subtle discomfort, a gnawing unease that intensified with each passing moment. The sight of the battered soldiers had churned her insides, triggering an avalanche of emotions she struggled to contain.

As the procession of soldiers unfolded before her, the sheer gravity of the situation weighed heavily on her heart. Their bloodied and worn forms, their haunted expressions, the desperate cries for help…they all combined to create a suffocating atmosphere, and the impact hit her like a physical blow.

She felt her muscles tense in protest, and the stench of fear and blood, mingling with the acrid smell of gasoline and gunpowder, only served to intensify the waves of nausea. With a choked gasp, she staggered backwards, her other hand instinctively reaching for her helmet, tearing it off just as she emptied her stomach onto the ground behind her.

Time seemed to blur, and she was vaguely aware of a presence beside her, a comforting hand rubbing her back gently. In the darkness threatening to pull her under, she clung to the soothing touch to ground her.

Once finished, she braced her hands on her knees, concentrating on the calming touch rather than the burn she felt in her throat. A canteen was moved into her line of vision, and she took it quickly. (Y/n) rinsed her mouth with water, spitting the residual bile and taking deep breaths to steady herself.

“Thanks, Lew,” she whispered hoarsely, holding out the canteen. “I’m glad this was water, for once.”

“Yeah,” he gruffed, pushing it back to her, urging her to take another sip. “You alright?”

“These men…,” she began, standing up slowly. “They’ve been through hell.”

His worried eyes watched her as she looked out at the sea of bloody and exhausted men. “I know,” he paused, doing the same. “Come on, we got some ammo.”

(Y/n) followed him as he quickly made his way to a table with a few crates of ammo. Everyone around her stuffed their pockets with as much as they could, and she was no exception. They needed as much as they could get. Her mind drifted to ammo, then to the cold, then to the scarf around her neck…Lew’s scarf. Did he ever find anything?

She turned to Lew with frantic eyes, scanning his figure for any cold weather gear. “Did you find anything?”

He hesitated for a moment, deciding whether or not to lie. Seeing her concerned face, he decided against telling her the truth. “Yes, they’re on the jeep. But I did find you these,” he whispered, discreetly sliding her a pair of gloves under the table.

“No,” she protested, pushing them back gently. “I’m not taking-”

Lew shook his head, a faint, reassuring smile on his lips. “Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes. That’s an order, corporal,” he said, nudging the gloves toward her with a smirk. “You’re so stubborn, woman. Just take the damn gloves.”

Reluctantly, she accepted them and slipped them on slowly, savoring the warmth they provided. “I hate you,” she muttered, returning to the table to get more ammunition. “And I hate it when you pull rank.”

Lew rolled his eyes playfully, his voice a tender murmur meant for her ears alone. “I love you, too.”

After a moment, he reached out and gently pulled her to face him. He leaned in close, his voice a soft caress among the tension in the air. “Keep your head down, alright?”

Their proximity sent a heat wave through her, and she felt the warmth of his breath against her skin. Suddenly aware of the closeness, he cleared his throat and took a subtle step back, eyes glancing around them for onlookers.

A sigh escaped her lips as she looked up at him, the worry evident in her eyes. “I will. Where will you be?”

“Most likely a little behind the line with Dick,” he replied, his gaze briefly shifting to the ground. “I won’t be far.”

A wave of concern washed over her. “You be careful, too. I can’t ha-”

“Don’t worry about me,” he interjected, adjusting her helmet with a determined air. “You know I’ll manage.”

“Lewis, will yo-”

Lieutenant Dike’s sharp voice pierced the air, cutting through their conversation abruptly. “Easy Company! Move out!”

(Y/n) took a steadying breath, closing her eyes momentarily to gather her resolve. When she opened them, Lew was watching her intently with an expression she hadn’t quite seen before. It had a blend of adoration and worry, unlike anything she’d witnessed in Paris or the camp's chaos. His eyes seemed to whisper, “You’re strong, and I’ve got your back.”

George called her name from a distance, but her eyes remained locked on Lew’s. He nodded once, a subtle reassurance that said it was okay. With a shaky smile, she turned and joined Luz and her squad, stepping into the path toward Bastogne.

Nixon’s eyes followed (y/n) as she melded into the sea of soldiers on their way to the town. Her familiar figure seemed to blur into the collective form of Easy Company. The air was alive with the charged energy of soldiers readying for battle, but Lewis Nixon felt a sudden stillness within him, a sharp awareness that it was her first time in combat after being hit.

A shiver ran down his spine, an icy finger tracing the contours of his thoughts. The weight of impending danger settled like a stone in the pit of his stomach. His fists clenched involuntarily, nails digging into his palm. He wanted to reach out, to call her back, to hold her close and promise safety, but the harsh reality of war held him back. Each step she took away from his felt like an eternity, the silent ticking of a clock counting down to disaster.

As she blended into the crowd, her presence grew fainter like a flickering flame in the distance. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes momentarily to center his thoughts. The cacophony of soldiers, the shuffle of feet, the clinking of gear…all of it seemed to fade into the background as his mind flashed with all his memories of her. But as the seconds ticked away, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this battle, this path they were treading, would demand more than either of them could foresee.

Breathe in, breathe through, breathe deep, breathe out…

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

44 notes · View notes

multifandomlover01 · 1 year

Text

I posted 6,646 times in 2022

That's 3,660 more posts than 2021!

253 posts created (4%)

6,393 posts reblogged (96%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@emmythespacecowgirl

@hiddlessi

@tvserie-s-world

@hbowardaily

@clover11-10

I tagged 5,390 of my posts in 2022

Only 19% of my posts had no tags

#band of brothers - 956 posts

#pretty - 335 posts

#doctor who - 189 posts

#the pacific - 186 posts

#supernatural - 178 posts

#lol - 168 posts

#😂 - 141 posts

#sam winchester - 120 posts

#dick winters - 117 posts

#lewis nixon - 117 posts

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#it’s horrible if you go through life thinking ‘oh since you’re not going to be saved i’m not going to waste my time on being nice to you’

My Top Posts in 2022:

The Great Transfer Debacle

Ron Speirs x Female!Medic!Reader (Platonic)

Minor George Luz x Female!Medic!Reader (platonic), Joe Liebgott x Female!Medic!Reader (platonic) and Eugene Roe x Female!Medic!Reader (platonic)

Very minor Lewis Nixon x Female!Medic!Reader (platonic)

Disclaimer: I do not own Band of Brothers, nor any characters or scenes from the show (all credits go to the appropriate people)

Word count: ~2.1k

Key: Y/R = Your Rank (Private, Corporal, Sargent), Y/L/N = Your Last Name, Y/N/N= Your Nickname (shortened form of your first name or some other nickname)

Warning: crappy writing (seriously, this thing isn’t even finished)

Note: as usual, the idea is mostly there, but this piece is technically not finished…sorry

See the full post

61 notes - Posted January 25, 2022

How Different men from BoB and The Pacific would react to you being insecure

Part 2 (George Luz, Joseph Liebgott, and Ron Speirs):

Tiny warning: Speirs’ section is a tad bit suggestive but is not explicit or graphic in anyway

George Luz:

• You wonder why George is with you,

• He’s so funny, witty, charming!

• And you’re…not.

• It’s not that people didn’t like you. Because they did.

• You just didn’t think your personality could hold a candle to George’s.

• George thought you were super funny, though.

• You didn’t try to be funny like he did, even though he was good at it. You were just naturally good at it without meaning to be.

• That’s one of the things that drew George to you. He thought it was amazing how you were so funny without even trying to be. You just made comments that came to you. And they were hilarious. (This isn’t you’re funny without meaning to in terms of, like, ignorance or stupidity, btw, like “Aw, cute, haha, you don’t know how to do this thing or you don’t know what this is and you should”)

• So he notices when you haven’t joked or even really talked that much one day.

• He sits next to you and asks you in all sincerity what’s wrong.

• And, of course, you reply that nothing is.

• Which earns you a frown. Because obviously something is wrong.

• So George asks you again.

• And you know the jig is up.

• You try to explain it to him.

• And he’s flabbergasted.

• “You mean…to tell me…that you don’t think you’re funny?”

• “That’s right.” You’re completely serious.

• George laughs.

• “What’s so funny?”

• “The fact that you don’t think you’re funny.”

• “I’m not.”

• “Yes you are! You just don’t try to be. You’re naturally funny.”

• “Not as much as you.”

• “I’m funny because I’m good at being funny. And I’m good at being funny because I want to be. I practice. I see what people do or don’t laugh at. And do the things that make them laugh. I do it for attention, mostly. But you don’t try and you’re funny.”

• “How so?”

See the full post

65 notes - Posted May 11, 2022

Protective

Various (Joe Liebgott, Bill Guarnere, Bull Randleman, Dick Winters) x Female!Medic!Reader (platonic)

Word count: ~1.3k

Key: Y/R = Your Rank (Private, Corporal, Sargent), Y/L/N = Your Last Name

Disclaimer: I do not own Band of Brothers. I do not own any characters or scenes. All credits go to the appropriate people.

Bit of a warning, I suppose: I am female. This character (reader) is female and is partially modeled after myself. I identify as bisexual. The female reader has no issue with a woman kissing her (on the cheek; and she kisses her on the cheek back). A man kisses her on the lips (another warning: it is forcibly and not consensual; this was not ok back then and isn’t ok today, just because I write something, it doesn’t mean I condone it). The woman kisses her just on the cheek. I’m not saying letting a woman kiss you on the cheek makes you a lesbian or bisexual. You can still be heterosexual, obviously. But it’s there and I’m just letting you know.

PS: Dialogue tags are hard, ok? And this ends like all of my other stuff, ok? Badly and abruptly.

See the full post

65 notes - Posted January 15, 2022

They’re My Sanitary Pads, Sir

Various (Guarnere, Toye, Liebgott, Makarkey, and Winters) x Female!Medic!Reader (Platonic) (Medic isn’t a huge part of it, though, you can pretend that’s not there if you want)

Word Count: ~2.9k

Disclaimer: takes place at Toccoa, but story may have them being at Toccoa longer than they actually were. It just suits the story. The setting; Currahee. Also, maybe Sobel just did this once? And it was later? And he kicked someone out for stealing…Let’s just pretend he did it a couple of time or whatever, ok? Also, just kind of ignore the history of sanitary/menstrual pads a bit. It mostly works, but it’s a bit iffy. Also, Winters may be XO a little earlier than reality. Sobel being a Captain…should fit???

Just, the timeline/some details aren’t accurate, alright? Deal with it.

Also…I do not own Band of Brothers, or any scenes or characters from it. All credit goes to the appropriate owners.

Also, per usual, this did not go the way it did in my head.

Key: Y/N/N = Your Nickname (shortened version of your name or other nickname), Y/L/N = Your Last Name

Warning: menstruation is discussed. If you are uncomfortable with this topic, please do not read. Also, please don’t be weird or gross about this. It’s a natural body process. I am not comfortable with it being sexualized by people I do not know, so please don’t sexualize it.

See the full post

81 notes - Posted February 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

If it’s considered perfectly ok for people to say they like sports when they watch other people play sports on TV despite not actually playing sports themselves, then it should be considered perfectly ok for me to say that I like certain video games if I watch people play them on YouTube despite not actually playing the games myself.

1,271 notes - Posted January 2, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #lol #of course

2 notes · View notes

mads-nixon · 6 months

Text

Epiphany Pt. 14: Soon You'll Get Better

Lewis Nixon x Reader

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

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

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

Word Count: 4.8k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Last night.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1900 HOURS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about it?” she asked innocently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Incoming!”

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

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

“George!” (y/n) yelled. “Come on!”

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

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

“(Y/n), no!” he yelled after her.

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

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

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

“(Y/n)! George!!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” she whispered, her throat tight.

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

“Muck and Penkala,” George screamed.

Lip couldn’t hear him. “What?”

“Muck and Penkala got hit!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

56 notes · View notes

boizandgurlzinthehouse · 3 years

Note

I would love an imagine with lewis nixon with a little angst that turns into fluff, please!

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞 ; 𝐥𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧

pairing: lewis nixon x fem!reader plot: relationships sometimes get rough, even in the middle of te war –but lewis is here to doubt that. word count: 2,367

(dm or request for me to my taglist if you want to ʚ♡⃛ɞ(•ᴗ•❁))

dating lewis nixon was not definitely easy. yeah, he was nearly alcoholic, he had a daring persona, and the meaning of the “healthy connection with parents” was unknown for him. although, he was a good guy with a clear brain and the best humour you had ever known, and not to mention, he was protective as hell towards you. lewis’ fear, that you were gonna find a much better guy than him before he got to marry you was really, really strong: you were one of the most honoured women -hell, even between men- at the army. your strategies always worked, and you even had the connection with the secret service, planning and writing the commands, even when nobody was capable of thinking about victory or success in the middle of chaos. you had names like speirs, who was a living legend just like you -you were the “battle widow”, even if you never had a spouse, not even at home, or a lover.

until now.

in the first months of your relationship, each of you were at toccoa, every moment with each other was filled with love and soft smiles, cheeky comments on this and that, warm sheets around you in the morning or after a very lovely night -because by each other's side, you could do anything. but before they went to aldbourne, fort benning or camp mackall, you needed to move to washington, back to the centre of everything -they needed you. meanwhile, lewis got more somber and serious, just the war, he’s just worried a little bit, you thought. you were too nervous as hell, if he gets shot or injured, if something permanent happens… you didn't want to think about it, either. his best friend, winters was a good man too -sometimes even better than lewis-, and the night before you got up to the train, you asked him to look over lewis -of course he don’t gotta be able to carry him or something, just assure that he don’t do something dumb and don’t hurt himself or anybody else. your heart stung when he got out from the view, but grabbing the necklace at your chest -he gave it to you on the date you kissed-, you somehow knew that everything was gonna be alright.

but now, little things scared you -or these were just little things to him, but to you, they were very big. at first, lewis’ letters got shorter and shorter, in turn they were still out of danger, and while you wrote at least one page, his writing was barely a half or one fourth of a paper long. and the second, you got news that he’s drinking more and more. okay, maybe these things were bigger than they would have been, but nah, you were just in love, no? probably, he was just too busy, or something was wrong with the transporting of the letters, or… you tried to collect reasons desperately, legitimating that you and him are alright. you even expected to write to winters, to spy about lewis, but you never wanted to involve him in something he was not supposed to be involved in -your problem was just yours and your boyfriend’s. the moment when you got back to your tiny apartment after two long day -you had to sleep in there because of the nonstop readiness-, you dared to dial the number of the centre of aldbourne’s military station. maybe he’s in the near, or some of his friends and you can talk with him.

-please, just pick up -you muttered, a little blunt sound pricked in the line of the phone. after a few seconds, you heard a little shuffling. -camp aldbourne’s military station centre, what can i help? -you sighed when you heard winters, sitting down on the couch to speak a little bit calmer. -hi, i’m (y/n), and… can you please toss me to lewis? is he near of you? -you asked warily, hoping that the answer was gonna be a “yes, of course”. -sorry, but he’s with lipton and harry welsh. perhaps if i call you back later, can you keep it a little bit? -yeah, of course, but winters -you jabbered, and continued before he could say anything. -is lewis… okay?

you heard winters exhaling, and you felt that he’s thinking. but what about? that lewis’ worse? how worse?

-lew’s fine, he’s just… his things just got together, but he handles it. is everything okay, or… -no, just give him, please. thanks -you shaked off, feeling a little guilty about your tone, but all you wanted to hear was your boyfriend. a couple of moments later you got what you wanted -but not how you wanted.

-hey, (y/n), what’s up? -you squinted on the question. what’s up? he always asked “how are you” or “are you okay, baby”, but not shitty “what’s up”. -hi, lewis. is everything alright, love? i am… a little worried about you -you began, circling your finger on the fabric of the sofa. -you don’t need to, ‘kay? everything's fine, just mind your own business or i don’t know.

you almost gulped at this, hoping he doesn't hear the bitter mumble. but now, you knew that with gentleness, you’re not gonna get to know anything.

-okay, fine. but then why did you not answer my letters? or calls? -i wrote to you, everytime. -but not as much as- -(y/n) don’t do this, okay? i don’t have time, and- -neither i, lew.

all you hoped was that he gets silent on the end of the line, and thinks about you. how you miss him, how you want him to lay beside you in the night, or keeping his hand on your thigh a little bit possessively when he drives -somewhere, to the place that only you and him know about. but the massive, bitter taste on your tongue didn’t want to let go.

-listen, (y/n), i don’t have time for this. i’m busy, i have to administer a lot, practice a lot, and we are on the edge of fighting. i know it’s hard for you, but you have to get used to it. -and this is not hard for you? those letters don’t matter to you? -jesus, why does every woman be like this? you’re like my mother, y/n.

your face frowned, and your brain fumbled -did he say this for real?

-god no, lew. i’m just worried about you, i care about you, you fucker, i go to sleep with the consciousness that you don’t… you’re not gonna survive, or anything! -that’s right, because i don’t know what’s gonna happen, damn it! i’m going to jump out in the middle of the war, and maybe get injured, but you only worry about your dumb fucking letters!

-then fuck you, okay? how am i supposed to write to you in the middle of the night, when i could sleep too, but keep up to show you that i love you! and you just shit down these letters, how am i supposed to keep everything together when you don’t give a fuck about us, or anything? -you nearly shouted, and you knew that some of his colleagues watch him from the corner of his eyes.

-because you’re fucking perfect, miss “widow of war”, miss “everybody loves me”, and you know everything better than anyone! i hate this, that everytime i get compared to you, and get the shit! -i never wanted to be better, how can you say a thing like this? i love the way you are, lew! but you give up, because mom’s little son never was in the target, where everything’s fucked up! -a single tear wetted your shirt, you stopped your shaking breakdown with the batting of your lashes.

then, it became silent. you didn’t know what was gonna happen, but you hoped that he’s gonna respond, even if your face was nearly bright red from the anger.

-yeah, maybe that’s my fault. but your fault is that you don’t fuck someone better.

the words burned into your ears, sliding down to your stomach, pulled out the worst kind of failure from you.

-fuck you, fuck you, fuck you! -crying out, not knowing that he’s hearing you or not -not caring either-, you flunked the phone with all of your force to the table, trying to get away from it as far as you could.

you didn’t remember much that night, only the sadness blew up in your soul stronger and stronger. you felt so strange in your house, feeling the emptiness like never before -falling on knees, letting the darkness inside.

✧༺♡༻∞　

stepping on the muddy dutch ground, your stomach grumbled at the thought of the things that wait here for you. colonel sink sent a message that the american army in europe needs reinforcement -that’s why you were here, making plenty of good decisions, keeping the battalion, the companies together, and… maybe meeting with your lover. or ex-lover? you didn’t know, you only knew that you’re not gonna let the burning hole inside your soul take the lead ahead.

-it’s such a pleasure to see you, colonel (y/l/n). our state was getting a little bit lower this time, but all of the people fight with all of their force. want some coffee, colonel? -captain heyliger asked you, while you took your coat off, the beige-brown, oversized shirt tucked into your pants covered the white t-shirt you wore, the necklace brushed at your skin. the movement flew with bringing back some bad memories.

-no, thank you. all i want is to jump in the middle of the work, that’s why i’m here -you smiled, hoping that you don’t meet with anyone you don’t want to. but now, lewis and you were exactly neutral to each other, you had nothing to be ashamed of. sitting down in the big office, you began to write, didn’t see who came in -seeing his silhouettes in the glass of the cabinet, for lewis’ fortune, this was the cause of your inner peace. the man behind you didn’t say anything -standing there, you can’t stand a question.

-are you gonna stay there forever, or do you want something? -your voice was never colder towards him. and this wasn’t your fault.

-i just heard that you arrived here. -i did.

silence again. fucking empty, fucking helpless silence.

-and i wanted to talk with you, too. -and what held you back until this time? -’just thought you’re busy -yeah, i was busy searching for another man, you could say, but didn't have the courage to say it. after the loss, with broken skin and soul, you never wanted to give him a broken heart too. -yeah, i was. -but i’m here now. and i’m talking with you. or at least i want to. -and what if i don’t want to, huh? perhaps nothing, because you don’t care about my feelings -echoing this sentence in your mind, you didn’t let out. let him talk. maybe he can be better this time, no?

lewis stepped closer, his frame in the sharp gaze got heavier and taller.

-and… i wanted to say sorry. for everything i said before. and those unsent letters, those unspoken words that show how much i love you. and that how much i missed you, for real. not just your silly but meaningful worries, or the moments we made together… i want you back. i want you back with all of this stuff, and i know that i barely can make up for this, i should have written those letters, but… turns out that really, i am the asshole.

you stayed quiet, all the time he spoke, he had a little bit thinner voice -another sign that he rarely did this in his life. and yeah, maybe lewis was sometimes an asshole, your asshole, the biggest asshole you could imagine… but in the end, lewis was just himself. lewis was lewis, the little bit alcoholic, loudmouthed as hell, yet mostly dependable, protective friend. and boyfriend, how good boyfriend.

-i understand, if you don’t want to stay with me, or… anythin- you didn’t let him to end the sentence, standing up, turning to him, giving him hope like you always had. standing before lewis, you saw the rough circles under his eyes, the little, hairline-thin, maroon tears on his cheeks or his lips, you realized you can’t be mad at him.

-i want to stay with you, forever. i just thought that… you think the things serious, what you told me. i don’t want another, i want you, too. i want your love, so just please… show me, okay?

his eyes melted at your silent words, almost whispers in his ears, fading beside the beating of his blood. sliding one of his arms around your waist, just how you like, bringing you closer to him -just like on one of the nights in each other’s presence-, his other arms’s fingers sliding through yours, just like your favourite book what he bought for you months ago; you don’t wanted to end it without him.

-i’ll always show you, miss perfection -his voice is totally harmless, a silk that brushes against your ear, you smile a little bit, finding the pieces from the two of you that belong together -because that’s how it works. grabbing a little bit on his lusty hands, almost brushing your cheeks against his; -thank you. i almost wanted to search for someone better -you began, enjoying teasing him-, but guess i’m too tired for it. i found the best, it’s so hard to look for another.

his smirk woke the most powerful love in the pit of your heart, leaning closer to him, giving a kiss to your temple, your brain almost got too dizzy already. -too tired, hm?

all you were able to do is a weak-at-the-knees nod, smiling like never in the former months. lewis chuckled a little bit, bringing your lips to his, letting all the air and soreness running out from you, his hands and lips burning on your body like the good old times back in the time;

-what a shame.

38 notes · View notes

problematicfavesareproblematic · 3 years

Text

Ignorance Is Blitzed (Part 7)

Ron Speirs x Reader

Summary: When you come into contact with some substance that makes you sick while on a routine building search, Ron realizes he may not be as emotionally detached as he’d thought initially thought.

Warnings: SMUT! YA GIRL FINALLY WROTE THE SMUT!, light angst, fluff, SMUT, Ron is a dom but he’s so into you he turns into a soft!dom, Reader is a mess, Ron is a tease, SMUT!

~ ~ ~ ~

Lewis Nixon was a dead man.

Even if Ron’s sudden (if not minute) PDA hadn’t clued you in to the fact that someone had told him about Nuremberg, the look of fear in Lewis’s eyes when you’d caught his gaze basically confirmed it.

You’d mumbled something about getting some air to Ron as you watched Lewis hightail it out of there, hot on his heels as he tried to escape the wrath that you were sure showed plainly on your face.

He doesn’t get far.

When you catch his elbow in what seemed to be the hotel staff’s dining room, he whines like a wounded animal and holds his hands up pleadingly.

“I swear to God I, thought you’d told him already—”

“I’m going to kill you.”

Nix scoffed at that, despite the fear clearly paling his face.

“Okay, one- people were going to find out eventually. Two? How in the hell was i supposed to know that you hadn’t told your boyfriend—”

“Not my boyfriend—”

“—yes he is your boyfriend- about it? And three: and he doesn’t even seem to be mad about it!”

You scoff at that, hands going to your hips as you stare at him in disbelief.

“It wasn’t something for you to tell- if the news that I was being asked to go in hadn’t come from you in the first place, I’d never have told you either! No one was supposed to know—!”

“What were you going to do, just dump him and disappear?!”

Your rebuttal sticks in your throat, guilt flooding through your veins at the bluntness of his question.

It must show on your face, because Lewis furrows his brows and looks at you in disbelief.

“No… Y/N, you aren’t seriously trying to tell me that you—?”

“I was giving him a clean break. I am giving him a clean break.”

You’d made the decision after you’d heard about Ron’s decision to stay with Easy and go to Japan, when you’d realized that neither of you were going to be going home anytime soon.

In Ron’s case, he may not come home at all- and if you knew him as well as you thought you did, you knew what that would mean for the two of you.

Hollow promises to keep in touch, followed by equally well-intentioned agreements to find the other when it all was over, both of you ultimately knowing in your heart of hearts that those commitments would inevitably fizzle out and die the moment the going got tough.

You didn’t want that, didn’t want to trap Ron in something that was destined to fail from the get-go.

As much as he liked you, cared for you, you also knew who he was. What he would always be.

A ruthless, brilliant soldier, ready to lay it all on the line at the first opportunity. And you loved him too much to ever ask him to be anything else.

He deserved to find happiness- even if it wasn’t with you.

Nix looked at you pityingly, a forlorn look on his face as he digested what you’d said.

“Look, I don’t know the guy well,” he mumbled, clearing his throat and taking a step towards you to rest a hand on your tense shoulder. “But anyone with eyes can see that you mean a lot to him.”

You nod and offer him a tight smile, eyes drifting downward to avoid letting any potential tears come to the surface. “I know I do- I don’t doubt that. It’s not about how things are right now, though. We don’t get to live in the right now for much longer.”

The hand on your shoulder squeezes at the muscle there, a small sound of admonishment escaping under Lew’s breath as you feel him watch you. He doesn’t like what you’re saying- you can tell that he wants to argue that you’re being ridiculous.

But even he knows that it wouldn’t be of any use. It wouldn’t change your mind.

“I don’t like the idea of leaving you here, Y/N. I’d bet if the others knew, they wouldn’t like it much either.”

You sigh, biting the inside of your cheek as you look back up at him and nod. “Guess I’m breaking up with all of you, aren’t I?”

Nixon’s eyes are shining, and you wonder if he’d be this upset if he were 100% sober. When you step into him to embrace him, he beats you to the punch and wraps his arms around you quickly, taking a deep breath that seems to make his chest expand to twice his size.

“I suppose you’re right. Not that being dumped ever stopped me before,” he gives you a sad smile when he eventually releases you, giving your shoulder a final pat before taking his hands away.

“Don’t be surprised when I show up at your window, drunk as a skunk and proclaiming my undying love for you at 3 am sometime in the near future.”

As you open your mouth to reply, you see Nix’s focus flick to something past your shoulder.

Even if you hadn’t seen the fear on the man’s face, you still would’ve known that it was Ron.

Because of course it would be him.

Gritting your teeth, you sigh and close your eyes. Dread tasted sour on your tongue as you turned your head to peer over your shoulder, flinching at the look of silent fury marring his handsome face. Sniffing, you force yourself to speak despite the tightness clenching at your throat.

“You should go, Lew,” you say quietly. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Lewis says nothing as you turn around to face Ron, the sound of his retreating footsteps barely registering in your ears as anxiety sends blood thrumming loudly in your ears. Ron’s sharp eyes make you feel impossibly small, and you think you can now understand what everyone else had been talking about for the past few years. Ron was scary. You did feel scared.

“You and I need to get some things straightened out.”

His words are clipped, and if he sees you flinch at the tone in his voice he doesn’t show it. You inhale shakily, realizing you had been holding your breath for too long and wetting your lips as you searched for the right words to say.

Just as you open your mouth to speak, Ron turns on his heel and begins to stride off, and once you are able to unstick the soles of your shoes from the floor you trail after him cautiously. When you reach the doorway, you see that he’s stopped a few paces from the door frame, waiting. In a move that surprises you, he uncurls his hand from the fist it had been in and holds it out to you, eyes heavy and dark and trained on you.

Quickly, you flicker your eyes between his face and his hand, only stepping forward and taking it after you’ve mustered up enough confidence that it wasn’t going to be something you regretted doing. You’d never had someone mad at you like this before, at least not for as intimate a reason as he was now. Of course, you’d never allowed yourself to care for someone like this before either- maybe this mortifying combination of guilt and heartbreak was normal.

The moment your hand finds his, he turns away from you and starts walking again, and as you follow you realize that he’s leading you towards the room you both share. There's no softness in the way his hand holds yours, the grip firm and unyielding. It almost makes you feel like a child being pulled off for a private scolding from a parent.

You hate it.

The journey to your room is both too long and not nearly long enough, and it’s only when he opens the door and releases your hand that you fear that you may never get the chance to feel his touch ever again. That reality was already one you’d been dreading, with him leaving so soon to go where you could not follow. The thought of that time coming sooner because of something like this was devastating.

You stand in front of the door once it closes, ready to have him ask you to leave at a moment’s notice. Unblinking, you watch him shirk off his jacket and toss it on a nearby chair, shrugging the suspenders down from his shoulders with a spark of agitation. His hair has begun to fall into disarray, and the idea of him hating you while looking so unfairly handsome makes your heart tighten painfully in your chest.

Unwilling to wait out the inevitable for a moment longer, you clear your throat at steel yourself.

“Ron-”

“You don’t get to hide that kind of shit from me.”

He doesn’t look at you as he speaks, his voice quiet and uncomfortably devoid of emotion. As he walks over to the table that held a decanter of whiskey and fine crystal glasses to pour a drink, you tuck some of your hair behind your ear and try again

“I was just trying to give—”

“—give me a 'clean break', yeah. I heard.”

Bringing the glass to his lips and taking a sip, you watch as he clenches his jaw and swallows.

“Did you ever think about asking me what I wanted?“

That does throw you, and as he sets the glass down and turns to look at you you make no move to hide the look of confusion on your face. Glancing down at your shoes, you shake your head softly and try and find your voice once more

“I- but you don’t want this. You don’t want to be tied down—”

“And what makes you so confident that you know what I want, huh?”

There's clear anger in his voice now, and you look up just in time to watch him walk over to you. You straighten as he comes to a stop right before you, hands braced on his hips as he all but glowers down at you.

“You don’t get to make those sort of decisions for me- got it?”

He emphasizes the bite on the ‘t’ in ‘it’, the puff of air from his breath hitting your face.

When you make to turn away from him, one of his hands flashes up to grip your jaw- his touch gentle but authoritative enough that you know it’d be a bad idea to go against it. Something about the movement irks you, makes your heart beat faster from something much darker than fear or dread. Pressing your lips into a thin line, you tilt your head back infinitesimally. Defiantly.

Ron notices, his nostrils flaring slightly. “Last time I checked, you aren’t a mind reader- and even if you were, you’d be a shit one because if you think what I want is anything other than you, you really don’t know me at all.”

“Stop it, Ron,” you mutter quietly, watching as his eyes flicker down to your mouth before dragging back up to meet your eyes again. “You’re being mean.”

He exhales sharply at that, a ghost of a rueful smile quirking his mouth before shaking his head.

“Am I?”

When you roll your eyes, he steps into you even more, using his hold on your jaw to tilt your head back further so you are still able to hold his glare.

“Like it or not, Y/N, you’re it for me- you got that? If you don’t want to believe me, that’s fine- but know that I’d tear this whole entire goddamned continent apart if you wanted me to—”

“Why!?” you snap, his declaration bringing forth the sadness you’d managed to temporarily quell.

At the sight of tears refilling your eyes, Ron’s brows furrow and some of the darkness leaves his face. Shaking your head imploringly, you bring a hand up to circle his wrist.

“You could do anything, be anywhere with anyone you wanted! We….we’re just children, Ronald- and I love you but I’d never delude myself into pretending that I know the first thing about how to do this- any of this!”

You bring your other hand up to rest lightly on his chest, lowering your gaze to look at the slight tremble of your fingers as you do so.

“You were born for greatness, born to lead and fight and conquer….but all I was born to do was just exist for other people- like my parents or my family or whoever else needed something from me. Then, eventually, become somebody’s wife and give him a family. But….. I threw away any chance of that future in order to be here, and now that this is ending I have no idea what I’m supposed to do!”

Swallowing in a vain attempt to keep your voice from breaking, you look back up at him, offering him a small, shaky smile.

“I won’t drag you down that mess with me, you deserve more than that- than me. I won’t ruin you, too—”

“Y/N,” Ron murmurs admonishingly.

“What?!”

With an ease that you two had only just begun to establish, he seals his mouth to yours, effectively shutting you up and forcing you to take the first deep breath you’d taken in a long time. There’s an edge of desperation to it- just as there had been in your first kiss back all those months ago in Foy.

Only this time his lips taste like whiskey and something a tinge more wicked.

A promise of more.

Breaking the kiss but keeping his face close you yours, Ron brings his other hand up to cup your face. Brushing his thumb across your bottom lip, he eyes you softly.

“Don’t tell me what I deserve.”

Kiss.

“Stop telling me what to do.”

Kiss

“Let me conquer.”

This kiss is filthy, his lips plush and confident and unafraid in their mission to leave you completely mindless. Ron has stepped so close to you that your head has tilted all the way back into his hands, his fingers purposefully twisting in your roots so he has more control over the kiss.

Despite the fact that he’s never handled you this way before- you have no desire to ask him to slow down or be gentler.

You like it. You want more.

When you whimper into his mouth, you can feel him grin briefly before sliding one hand down your back to fist at the material of your shirt and bunching it free from where it had been tucked into the back of your pants.

Up until now, Ron had been nothing but gentle when it came to you- and while you knew him to be dominant and ruthless in battle you’d considered what his temperament would be like as a lover. Clearly, the confidence translated.

You slide the hand that had been on his chest up and around his shoulders, your elbow hooking around his neck and pulling him closer. As you nip at his bottom lip, Ron hums low in his chest. The hand he’d had on the small of your back has moved down to grip at your ass, and with a quick peck he pulls back slightly.

“Hold on,” he grumbles, and just as you open your mouth to ask for clarification Ron wraps his arms around your hips and lifts you so you’re having to lean into him, your feet stumbling across the floor as he turns you both and quickly walks the both of you to the bed.

He’s barely set you down before his hands find the hem of your blouse again, rucking it up your sides before your brain catches up with him and you tear it over your head. Your skin feels hot, and it feels even hotter at the feeling of Ron’s lips mouthing at the tops of your breasts as you fumble with the clasp of your bra.

“Shit,” you hear yourself curse, hating your fingers for being so uncoordinated. Undeterred by the fabric of the bra you’d pinched from one of the homes the lot of you had been asked to secure a week ago, Ron bites softly at your nipples until they stiffen. When you finally unhook the fastenings, he pulls the cups of the bra down easily and continues his attentions.

You curse again, head swimming at the realization that his own fingers have found the zipper of your pants and begun to pull it down. Carding your hands through his hair, you desperately try and calm your breathing while distantly realizing that he’s still fully clothed.

“Ron,” you gasp, looking down your chest and meeting his bright eyes as he sucks marks down the valley between your breasts. “I wanna see you—”

His hum is dark as he mockingly tilts his head at you, successfully pulling the fabric of your trousers down your hips until gravity takes over and it all pools at your feet.

“You are seeing me,” he insists quietly, trailing his blunt fingernails down your hips until they catch your underwear and shucking them down your legs as well. When you frown he bites some of the skin just under your left breast, chuckling wickedly at the squeak of surprise you’re unable to hide.

“Take your shirt off!” you nearly whine, your head falling back as he laves at the bite with his tongue. “You’re not being- shit….you’re being unfair—!”

“Then do something about it.”

You do whine at that, too frustrated to worry about being gentle as you take your hands from his hair to claw at his shirt- bunching and pulling at the fabric covering his back until you manage to get enough in your fists to pull it gracelessly over his head. Pure want has boiled your blood like a fever, with the only two thoughts in your mind being more more more and faster faster faster.

Before you can work his shirt any further down his arms, he shoves you back unceremoniously onto the bed, quick to pull your hips to the edge of the bed before bothering to continue undressing himself.

With a nearly comical desperation, you toe off your shoes, licking your dry lips as you watch the muscles of his torso bunch and lengthen as he strips the remainder of his clothing off- his eyes on you the entire time and his gaze doing nothing to calm the heaving of your chest.

“Christ, look at you,” he says quietly, a clear note of pride in his voice. “Too pretty for your own good, aren’t you?”

You blush at that, swallowing audibly at the praise and squeezing your eyes shut.

It all just was so much….

When you open your eyes again, you moan at the sight of him kneeling before you and pulling at your legs until they were over his shoulders. As you start to sit up you are pushed back down again by his hand on your chest, the feeling of his breath on your sex robbing you of any speech capabilities you had previously possessed.

“Just like that,” he commands gently. “Stay just like that.”

Maybe it was because it had been a while since you’d had any sort of sexual intimacy with another person, or perhaps it had more to do with the fact that your previous sexual partners hadn’t been particularly invested in the act, but one thing was for certain:

Ron Speirs was unfathomably good at cunnilingus.

You could only gape stupidly at the ceiling with your mouth open in a silent scream of overwhelm as he took your clit between his lips and absolutely ruined you- his tongue and teeth and fingers tearing you away from reality with a nearly cruel proficiency. It was almost humiliating how effectively he dismantled your already tenuous sense of composure, and if you had any sense of pride left you probably would’ve hated him for it.

He was making a mess of you, and he was doing it too easily.

Feeling a sheen of sweat glisten your skin, you can only hold onto him as your body trembles- and it’s all you can do to keep your hips on the bed as your back arches and your body rocks.

“Ron, please….I’m gonna cum—” you hear yourself choke out in warning, squeezing your eyes shut as something burning hot and sugar-sweet builds deliciously in your lower belly

“Oh yeah?” you feel him ask, one of his arms hooking around your hips to help still you. “Want to bet?”

Your eyes flash open

“What—?!”

You nearly howl in fury when he takes his mouth away, instantly sitting up to watch in betrayed dismay as he curls two fingers inside of you and adds a new kind of stimulation- one that keeps you on that cruel precipice without offering you any sort of relief.

He smirks up at you, and any affection you’d previously held for him is jeopardized by his clear mirth at the situation.

“Sorry, Sweetheart,” Ron says lowly, nothing in his voice conveying any sort of remorse. “But you don’t get to call the shots right now.”

You open and close your mouth desperately, unable to decide which sort of response would get you what you wanted. A frustrated shriek slips out in the interim, and when his smile broadens you remove your hands from his hair and smack at his head.

“Jesus Christ, Ron! What’s the matter with you—?!”

“Do you have any idea how good you taste, Y/N?” He continues as if you hadn’t spoken at all, ducking down to place a greedy kiss to your sex before pulling back again. “To think you were going to have me leave without letting me get my mouth on the source….absolutely heartless—”

“I get it, okay? Fuck Ron! What more do you want me to do?”

You wince at the addition to a third finger inside of you, the stretch adding the tiniest bit of ache to your horribly prolonged almost-orgasm. The forearm across your hips holds you down when you try to squirm in any direction in hopes of getting some more stimulation.

“Apologize.”

You widen your eyes at him, a scowl on your face as you look down your panting chest at him. “What?”

Like the cruel bastard he is, Ron shrugs as if the solution to all of this has been obvious the whole time.

“Say you’re sorry, and I’ll make it all better.”

Shaking your head, you hear yourself scoff. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You yelp as he turns his head to bite your thigh, fisting a handful of his hair to pull him away.

Smoothing the flat of his tongue over the bite, he closes his eyes wistfully and sighs.

“Close, but that’s not what I want to hear,” Ron says before tilting his head and looking back up at you, the tendons in his forearm pronounced as his fingers tirelessly continue their strokes inside of you.

“Say it. Say ‘Ron, I’m sorry.”

Biting the insides of your cheeks, you fix him with a glare and sigh with frustration.

“Fine! I’m sorry, okay? I’m really fucking sorry, Ron!”

He purses his lips, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. You whimper as he slides his fingers out from inside you, but before you can think yourself victorious Ron uses those fingers to start rolling your clit- still keeping you on the edge while giving you just a hint of what you needed.

“Goddamnit, RONALD—!”

“Tell me that you deserve me,” he demands, his words taking on a gravelly tone. As you search his eyes, you see a heartbreaking shine of sincerity staring back at you. “Say it and then I’ll let you cum.”

Your throat is becoming tight, an unexpected wave of emotion hitting you and bringing tears to your eyes. The hand not currently torturing your clit squeezes your hip, and with a shake of your head you close your eyes.

“I-I deserve you,” you acquiesce, feeling your lower lip threatening to quiver. “I’m sorry.”

“Gutes Mädchen (good girl).”

Your head falls back with a moan as he latches his mouth to you again, body bowing as he ruthlessly finishes what he’d started and destroys you- sending you spiraling into bright euphoria and letting you float in the heat of it. You’re suddenly thankful for the arm across your hips, for it’s the only thing anchoring you to the real world as you shake for him.

“So perfect,” you can hear him saying, his voice now at your ear as you become aware of the press of his cock between your lower lips. “You’re the most perfect thing I've ever seen.”

Whining pathetically, you tilt your head back and clutch at his back.

“Please,” you beg, eyelids heavy and gaze unfocused. “Please—”

He doesn’t draw it out this time, quickly hooking his arm under your left leg and opening your hips so he can press himself inside of you. Still wrung out for your orgasm, you can only cry out softly at the feeling of him bottoming out, a broken sound of his own vibrating through his chest into yours.

You’ve never considered Ron to be a particularly talkative person, so when he begins to babble it catches you off guard while simultaneously endearing him to you further.

“I can’t believe how good you feel You surely were sent to ruin me God you’re such a good girl Better than I could’ve imagined Squeezing me so tightly I don’t want to be without you I want nothing else than this In what world would you think that I wouldn’t adore you I am yours entirely you ridiculous woman Shit I can feel you shaking Getting so tight Fuck do that again Are you going to cum again I want to hear you scream….”

Too lost in his words, you don’t know if you actually screamed as you came again- but you do know that at some point you’ve turned your head and sealed your lips to his. His hips stutter as he cums with a breath shout, his free hand dancing up and down your side with a carnal desperation that you could understand but not replicate- not now.

Because now you are well and truly wrung out.

The weight of Ron’s body atop yours is welcome, and the sweet way he kisses you is almost too much for your fragile mind to process.

“Y/N?”

Ron’s voice is soft, and as you blink your eyes open you cannot help but smile satedly up at him. He looks beautiful, and the soft way he’s looking at you makes you feel beautiful, too.

“Hm?”

He brings a hand to your face and smooths some of your hair behind your torn ear.

“You weren’t born for someone else,” he says the words carefully, as if he is struggling with ensuring that they are the right ones. “But…. I’m starting to think that maybe I was. Or that, maybe we were…..Do you get what I’m trying to say?”

Taking his face between your hands, you take a deep breath and let your eyes drift across his handsome face.

Lifting your head, you lightly press your lips to his and sigh.

“Yeah, Ron….I think I do.”

He deepens the kiss, pulling you with him as he rolls to the side and holds you against him.

“Mo Leannan,” he murmurs into your hair as you rest your cheek against his chest. “Mo Chridhe.”

You furrowed your brow, the words unfamiliar and in a language you could not identify. It was common knowledge that Ron spoke a passable level of German, but from the way his mouth wrapped around these words, you wondered if he was fluent in another language and had just never told you about it.

“What did you say?” you asked softly, exhaustion having crept into both of your bodies and rendered you mostly immobile.

Humming, Ron wraps the hand you’d rested on his chest in his and brings it up to his face so he can kiss your palm.

“Later,” he says sleepily before lowering your joined hands to rest on his sternum. “I’ll tell you later. Rest.”

And because you believe him, you do as he says and allow yourself to be swept away.

~ ~ ~

HELLO AND HI! This took forever and a day to write but only bc I overthought everyhting and got distracted by other shiny things SO WHOOPS MY B! Anyhoo- I love ya’ll and remember to hydrate!

Taglist: @mrseasycompany @itswormtrain @mrsalwayswrite @happyveday @sunsetmando @ricksmorty @liebgotttme

#band of brothers imagines #band of brothers x reader #ron speirs x reader #ronald speirs x reader #ron speirs imagines #problematicfavesareproblematic

180 notes · View notes