Jesseeka

S7E2

Thank you so much!!! Im so happy you liked it! 🥹

PART 2!!!

All The Wrong Times, In The Right Places.

The Pool in Haguenau

Floyd Talbert x Reader

You thought Floyd Talbert had forgotten you.

it had been a few weeks since you last saw him, few weeks bled, you didn't have orders to go to the front in Bastogne. And the men we're isolated in the Ardennes.

It had become near unbearable, biting through work and looking out the glum window.

Your fingers tapping against the old postcard on the desk, a faded postcard, worn and wrinkled, dogeared and yellowed.

Talbert had written on it, a little reminder when he would be gone for too long.

The war had buried its teeth, deep and the whole world was dying red with it.

But fortunately, when Easy had advanced, you had seen him again.

Now they we're billeted in Haganeau and for once the world grew a little less complex, a little less jagged.

And you had Tab again, safe, waiting.

He was different, grim and hallow somehow but he still held his head, his easy grin and his hope.

You held onto the fact that there we're no calls for the men to leave or jump into Berlin.

And that was enough.

Enough that he had swooped you in your arms when the streets cleared enough and when the shadows held you two together for just a moment.

The days rolled along with Talbert leaning against the door in his ODs, dipping his helmet at you.

He would tap the crooked little mark beside Easy’s pin and say, “Still handsome?”

You would answer, “Barely.”

He would put a hand over his heart like you had killed him.

Then, lower, just for you:

“Still yours, though.”

And that was the difference in Haguenau.

Floyd Talbert still joked.

Still grinned.

Still made things lighter because sometimes lightness was the only thing men had left.

You were near the back of the billet, half-asleep against a wall with your coat buttoned wrong, when he came around the corner too fast and caught you by both arms.

"Sergeant.."

He scooped you up before you could finish.

He carried you into the street, you squealed, pressing your palms on his shoulders, his eyes dancing as you let out a mock affronted sound.

“There you are!"

You let out a startled laugh as he spun you once before setting you down. "Nice to see you too, Floyd."

He brought a finger to his mouth, "Shh!"

You covered your mouth, cheeks still warm as you held onto the front of his uniform, his other hand found yours, squeezing it tight.

“I found something.” he started

“That sentence has never once led anywhere respectable.” you crossed your arms.

“Good,” he whispered with a wink.

You barely had to reply when he took your hand and both of you ran down the war torn streets.

The street was almost empty, slick with rain, shuttered windows dark under blackout curtains. Somewhere beyond the broken rooftops sat the river, and beyond that, the Germans.

You glanced that way.

Talbert saw.

“It’s on our side,” he said.

“That is not as reassuring as you think.”

“It’s secure.”

“You swear?" You lifted an eyebrow and he nodded.

"Of course, sweetheart."

He squeezed your hand once and pulled you down a narrow lane before you could laugh too loud.

You moved fast, both of you ducking by instinct when a door creaked or a voice carried from another billet. Floyd kept hushing you even though he was the one grinning like a fool, and every time you stumbled over loose stone, he caught your elbow without missing a step.

At the end of the lane, behind a sagging garden wall and a tangle of hedges, stood a house that looked like the war had bitten the top clean off.

The second floor was burned black. The windows were blown hollow. One side of the roof sagged inward, and the iron gate out front was locked shut with a chain thick enough to discourage sensible people.

You slowed to a stop when you realize where he was pulling you towards. You blinked and gasped.

“Absolutely not.”

Talbert was already putting his boot on the old stone wall beside the gate that jutted wrought iron.

For a second, he only looked down at you, smiling.

“You say that a lot for someone who keeps following me.” he grunted lifting himself up.

You watched him wearily as he grabbed onto the gate with a triumphant smile.

"Come on up!" he beckoned, already leaning forward to take your hand,

“This place is going to collapse.” You hesitated.

“That’s why no one’s using it.”

“Floyd.”

Not smug this time.

Something warmer.

“Come on,” he said softly. “I wouldn’t bring you somewhere bad.”

The words landed differently than his usual jokes.

You looked from him to the burned-out house, then back to his outstretched hand.

“You are aware you’re asking me to trust a man who just admitted he steals from everybody.”

“Only the good stuff.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Yeah,” he said, grin returning. “But I’m steady.”

You took his hand.

He helped you up the wall carefully, one hand at your wrist, the other at your waist when your boot slipped on rain-slick stone. You caught his shoulder, both of you freezing for one breath, half tangled against the iron gate. Your faces were too close. His smile flickered.

“Careful,” he whispered.

“You’re the one who brought me to a locked gate.”

“Yeah, gotta impress the lady.” You laughed at that as you held onto the gate,he nudged his nose with yours once, pleased.

He swung one leg over first, and pulled you after him. The two of you went over together in a graceless scramble of boots, coats, and barely swallowed laughter. Your uniform snagged on the iron curl of the gate; Floyd leaned back to free it and nearly lost his balance.

You grabbed his jacket.

He grabbed the wall.

For one ridiculous second you were both stuck there, shaking with silent laughter, rain on your faces, trying not to bring the whole gate down.

“Stop laughing,” he breathed.

“You stop.”

“I’m saving you.”

“You’re making this worse.”

“That’s my style.”

At last, you dropped down on the other side, straight into his arms. He caught you against him, boots slipping in the wet leaves. The burned house loomed behind him, black windows staring, but Floyd was warm through his damp jacket and smiling like he had smuggled you into summer.

“You all right?” he asked.

You nodded, though your heart was beating too hard.

He didn’t let go right away.

Then something cracked upstairs in the ruined house.

You both went still.

A long second passed.

No voices. No footsteps. Only gentle rain that began.

Talbert leaned close to your ear.

“See?” he whispered. “Secure.”

Then he took off his helmet and secured it on your head, winking once, "Even safer." he mused.

You shoved his chest lightly, and he caught your hand again, laughing under his breath as he led you around the side of the house and through the overgrown hedges.

Branches scraped your sleeves. Wet leaves brushed your face. The garden had gone wild, roses and weeds twisting over broken stone paths. Then the hedges opened.

There, behind the burned house, was a pool.

A real one.

Your eyes went wide.

Moonlight and rain silvered the water. Leaves floated across the surface, but it was clear enough to catch the pale shape of the sky. A hose lay over the edge, still running in a thin, steady stream, as if the house had forgotten everyone left.

You stared.

“Oh my God.”

Talbert turned back, triumphant. “Told you.”

“You found a pool.”

“Through patrol. Saw the water past the hedge.”

“In Haguenau.”

“Apparently.”

“Behind a burned house.”

“Adds character to the place.”

“The hose is still running.”

“That’s the fancy part.”

You looked at him. “You’re insane.”

He was already unbuttoning his jacket. “Maybe.”

“Floyd.”

“What?”

“What are you doing?”

“What’s it look like?”

“It looks like you’re trying to die of cold in a rich person’s abandoned pool.”

He stripped off his OD shirt and tossed it over a chair that had somehow survived beside the water. Rain shone on his hair, his grin bright and boyish and so alive it hurt to look at.

“Live a little.”

You gasped, "You're stealing my line!"

Then he jumped in.

The splash nearly made you scream.

You clapped both hands over your mouth as water crashed over the stone.

Talbert came up gasping, eyes wide, hair plastered on his face that made you laugh. “Jesus!!!!”

“Shh!” you hissed, laughing.

“It’s freezing!”

“I told you!”

“I didn’t say you were wrong.” He shoved wet hair off his forehead, teeth flashing. “Come on.”

“No!" You raised your hands to your chest stepping back.

“You’re coming in.”

“I am absolutely not.”

“You climbed the gate.”

“Under protest.”

“You’re halfway criminal already.”

He splashed water at your shoes.

“Floyd!” You yelped

“Shh,” he said, grinning.

"Come on, baby? Please?" He put his hands together, eyes glimmering and you rolled your eyes.

You laughed, helplessly, and turned your back. “Fine, alright. You win, face away.”

His expression softened at once.

No joke. No tease.

He turned around in the water, hands lifted. “Yes, ma’am.”

You stripped down to your undergarments as quickly as you could, folding your uniform beside his things, arms crossed tight against the cold air. When you stepped onto the first pool stair, the water bit so sharply you sucked in a breath.

You timidly shuffled closer.

The wind rose, the rain still drizzling as your cheeks flushed from the cold.

Talbert looked over his shoulder.

“Don’t look!”

“I’m not looking. I’m supervising.”

“You’re impossible.”

“You said that already.”

“And it keeps being true.”

He waded to the steps, water dark around his waist, laughter still caught in his face. “Come on. One more.”

“It’s cold.”

“Everything’s cold.”

“It might be dirty.”

“It’s a pool.”

You stepped down another stair and yelped.

He laughed, then immediately hushed you, which made you laugh harder.

“Tab, I swear!”

He came up the steps suddenly, water streaming from him, and before you could retreat, he wrapped his arms around the backs of your thighs and lifted you clean off the stone.

You gasped and grabbed his shoulders. “Hey!”

“Shh!”

“You cannot shh me while kidnapping me into water!”

“Rescuing you from cowardice.”

“You are awful.”

“You like me.”

You opened your mouth to deny it.

Nothing came out fast enough.

His grin softened.

For half a second, he knew.

Then his foot slipped.

“Oh, hell!"

You both went under.

The cold stole the world.

Water rushed over your head, sharp and silver-black, your hands still locked around him. You wrangled him, swinging your arms in whicever way got you to the top.

When you broke the surface, you came up gasping and laughing against his shoulder, breathless and furious and alive.

Talbert was laughing too, bright and helpless, one hand braced at your back, the other pushing wet hair out of his eyes.

“I hate you,” you whispered.

“Ah, we gotta stop lyin' to ourselves." He pulled you close one arm lazily around your waist.

You looked at him, at the rain on his face, the burned house behind him, the leaf-strewn water, the war waiting beyond the hedges , and realized he had done this for you as much as for himself.

One stupid, reckless, stolen thing.

One place where the war had not gotten in yet.

His hands settled more carefully at your waist.

“Worth it?” he asked.

You were still shivering. Still laughing a little. Still holding onto him.

“For a terrible idea?”

“Yeah.”

You smiled.

“Best kind.”

He grinned, "Best kind..." he echoed back, looking around, "In all the wrong times, in the right places."

OHMYGOODNES YOUR MY FIRST ASK, i am happy and honored to oblige!! Of course!!! AND Thank you so much Im so glad you're enjoying my works!!

THIS WAS SO CUTE ill make a small part 2!!

You Keepin' Tabs On Me?

Floyd Talbert x Reader

You weren't planning to eye anybody or even bump into someone.

You had to deliver messages is all, it was even a miracle you had the position, so you kept to yourself. And ran with orders.

Counting from one to twenty, trying not to panic, trying not create interest.

The problem was someone was in your way.

A certain sergeant who was half crouched as Operation Market Garden fell apart around them, you arrived too late, you could see it in the way the men eyed you, shouted to retreat.

You came stumbling through a side street with one hand clamped on your helmet, dispatch bag banging against your hip.

You we're still counting in your head,

Sixteen,

Seventeen

Then BAM.

Your heel caught as you heard a blast and stumbled against someone.

"Whoa! Easy there sweetheart." you felt a hand around your waist as someone pulled you low from the firefight.

You we're going to duck your head and just ask which way you should go, already losing your focus.

But your eyes found his, brown almost hazel eyes that searched yours and for a moment you almost forgot commonsense.

They had no right being so sweet in the middle of war but here he was. Eyebrows scrunching, half disbelieving he had a woman nearly in his arms.

“You lost?” his voice was low.

You pulled your arm back too quickly. “Working.”

“Hell of a route.”

“The road was clear when I started.”

“Roads do that.” His eyes flicked over the street behind you. “Change their minds.”

You shoved the folded dispatch against his chest. “You Easy Company?”

“Depends who’s asking.”

“Someone with orders.”

His grin widened.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You hated that you almost smiled.

He noticed.

Of course he noticed.

That was the problem with Talbert from the beginning.

He noticed too much and made it look like flirting.

Easy stayed longer than anyone expected, long after the first bright welcome had turned into wet roads, dikes, patrols, shell bursts, and Dutch rooms crowded with soldiers who were trying to look less tired than they were.

And you had found yourself rounding a corner to deliver paperwork and he'd be there, he'd look surprised, but you had caught him already from a distance, rocking on his heels, catching your eyes once.

As if waiting for you.

You told yourself, to turn away. To remind yourself of work and war.

And work...

You worked from a commandeered town building near battalion’s mess of maps and messages, where damp wool steamed by the walls and papers went soft from too many hands. Officers came in and out. Runners tracked mud across the floor. Someone was always asking for a road, a grid, a name, a company position.

You learned the companies by their markers first.

Able. Baker. Dog. Easy.

Little pins on a map. Little names pushed from road to road as if men could be made that simple.

Talbert started appearing more and more by the building you we're at.

Then he gravitated inside, closer to your table with excuses that became more absurd as time went by. You couldn't help but feel amused and a touch fond.

He needed directions.

He needed to check a road.

He needed to know where battalion was.

He needed to ask about a message no one had sent him to ask about.

Mostly, he needed to lean over your shoulder and make himself impossible to ignore.

You remember the first time he plucked the courage to approach, standing next to you. His eyes looking over at yours, his hair falling over his eyebrows, your faces too close to each other.

“That us?” he asked one afternoon, pointing at the green marker.

“That’s Easy Company.” Your finger brushed against his.

“Same thing.” His finger sweeping under the pad of yours.

“You’re not the whole company, Sergeant.”

“No,” he said, grin soft and easy. “Just the part you keep looking for.”

Your fingers slipped away, but it had tapped his once. Experimental, a curious thing, sorting out your feelings and wondering if he felt the same.

He saw.

You pretended he didn’t.

“So,” he said, softer now, “you keepin’ tabs on me?”

You looked up.

He was smiling like it was a joke. Like he had only said it because his nickname made it easy and because Floyd Talbert never missed a chance to make something easy.

But his eyes gave him away.

Too hopeful.

Too careful.

Too caught on your face.

You swallowed and looked back at the map before he could see you smile.

“I keep track of company positions.”

“Yeah?” he said. “That all?”

You pressed Easy’s marker into place.

“For now.”

Talbert’s grin came back slow, pleased and a little stunned, like he had just won something he had not been sure he was allowed to want.

“Well,” he said, tapping the edge of the table once before stepping back, “don’t lose me.”

You kept your eyes on the map.

But you were still smiling after he left.

That was how it went for weeks.

Talbert flirted with everybody, so you taught yourself not to believe him.

Winked at clerks. Made Dutch girls giggle from doorways. Talked himself into extra coffee, cigarettes, information, and trouble with the same effortless charm.

So when he lingered beside your map table, when he lowered his voice just for you, when he looked at you like he had forgotten the rest of the room existed, you told yourself it was just Talbert being Talbert.

And Talbert, for once, did not know how to convince you otherwise.

Because you were kind to everyone.

That was what ruined him.

You helped lost replacements find the right street. You fixed names on forms before officers could bark about them. You handed over messages with steady hands even when shelling made the windows tremble.

You smiled at tired men like you had saved a little warmth just in case somebody needed it.

So when you smiled at him, he never knew if it meant anything.

And when he smiled at you, you never trusted it enough to ask.

It made the whole thing stupid.

It made it worse.

Made it so that you felt sick to your stomach you'd pace, it did not help that Talbert was also pacing, you'd see him from where he was billeted.

You groaned and told yourself not to be stupid.

One evening, while Easy was still in Holland, the message room had gone quiet for once. Not peaceful. Holland was never peaceful anymore.

But quieter. Rain tapped against the windows. Somewhere outside, men moved through the street, boots sucking through mud, voices low under the wet dark.

You were bent over the map, trying to shift Easy’s marker without smudging the pencil lines.

Then you felt it.

That strange, warm pressure of being watched.

You looked up.

Talbert stood across the room with his jacket open, not saying anything. Not leaning in a doorway. Not grinning for an audience.

Just looking at you.

For once, he did not have a line ready.

“What?” you asked.

He blinked, then recovered too late. “Who? me?"

“You were staring.”

“Was I?”

“Yes.”

“Huh.” His mouth tilted. “Must be the lighting. You know how these buildings get."

You looked around the dim room. “The lighting is terrible.”

“Then it’s you.”

Your hand froze on the map.

Talbert seemed to realize what he had said at the exact same moment you did.

His grin came back, but smaller. Less sure of himself.

You looked down quickly, pretending Easy Company required urgent geographical attention.

“You say things like that to everyone.” you almost snapped and inwardly winced at what you had said.

but he didn't recoil, he said. "No"

You did not look up.

He came closer. Slow enough that you could have told him to stop. Close enough that his sleeve brushed the edge of the table.

“No,” he repeated, quieter. “Not like that.”

The rain tapped harder against the glass.

You swallowed. “You’re very hard to take seriously, Floyd.”

He huffed a laugh, soft and almost embarrassed.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m starting to regret that.”

That made you look at him.

There was no audience now. No nurses. No clerks. No Dutch girls smiling from doorways. No Easy men waiting to laugh at him for turning sincere.

Just Talbert, caught staring, trying badly to make honesty sound casual.

He reached for the pencil tucked behind your ear, then stopped before touching it.

“May I?”

You nodded.

He took it carefully, like the permission mattered more than the pencil, and leaned over the map. Beside Easy’s green marker, he drew one small crooked line.

“There,” he said.

You stared at it. “That is not regulation.”

“No.” His voice warmed again. “That’s me.”

“On the map?”

“Near Easy.” He glanced at you. “Near you, if you keep standing there.”

You tried not to smile.

Failed.

His eyes dropped to your mouth, and the look on his face changed into something so open and startled that your chest hurt.

“You keep a tab on everyone?” he asked, low and rough with it as if asking you something more.

“I keep track of company positions.” it was the same answer you gave him before bit you couldn't risk saying anything else.

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

You touched the edge of the green marker. “Maybe I keep a tab on you.”

Talbert went very still.

Then, softly, “Yeah?”

You looked up at him. “Maybe.”

The smile that broke over his face was not the one he gave everybody else.

It was quieter.

Yours.

Outside, someone called his name from the street.

Talbert stepped back, but he did not leave right away.

“You better not lose that mark,” he said.

“You better stay where I put you.”

His grin came back, sweet and helpless around the edges.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Then he went out into the Dutch rain.

You tried to go back to work.

You really did.

But Easy’s green marker sat exactly where it belonged, and beside it, hidden from every officer with sense, was one crooked little line that meant Talbert.

You found him later outside, under the narrow overhang of the building. He caught your eyes, rain pooled at his helmet and darkening his shoulders, he had just come back from watch.

He flicked his helmet towards yours and you chuckled and raised your hand to wave.

The street was nearly empty. The windows glowed dull behind blackout curtains. Somewhere farther down, men were laughing too loudly in a billet, trying to make Holland feel less haunted.

“There she is,” he said.

You hugged your coat tighter. “Were you waiting?”

“Resting.”

You look around, couldn't help but grin as you let out a small laugh. “In the rain?” you lifted your eyebrows, looking up and sticking a palm out as the rain grew heavy

“I’m dedicated.” he angled his body towards yours, leaning his weight on his left foot as he tilted his head.

“To getting pneumonia?” you yelled through the thunder and that made him laugh as you pressed your hands to your ears. He moved closer then, ducking so you can hear him.

“To making sure you didn’t lose my mark.”

You smiled and looked up at him, he was tall and you stood on your toes. "I didn't"

He softened and nodded with a pleased little look.

That was the thing you were beginning to learn about Floyd Talbert. His charm was loud, but his hope was quiet. He could grin through a whole room, but the second you smiled like that, he looked almost nervous.

"Get outta the rain with me." he whispered.

You hesitated, some sort of courage hurting in your chest but you still hesitated.

Rain silvered the street. The Dutch town sat around you in wet brick and dark windows, still occupied by Americans, still too close to German guns, still pretending morning was a promise.

"Live a little, Tab." You laughed and for the first time in your life, you took his hands and pulled him further into the rain.

"Christ!" he barked out a laugh half stumbling with you. "You trying to kill me, hmm?"

You let out a gasp as the rain plummeted down, mean and heavy, banging against the rooves.

He scrubbed his face, feeling the thunder but it wasn't in the sky. You let go of his hands and he ran with you down the street. "Hurry!" You cried out and he chased after you. "I'm tryin'!"

And because Talbert couldn't leave well enough alone, he grabbed your waist, half swinging, half scooping you up, you let out a startled squeal.

"Put me down!"

"I'm living a little, ma'am. Just following orders."

He finally settled down, steadying you infront of him, the rain began to whittle down in a steady shower, you push the hair off your face, your skin buzzing with adrenaline and hot feeling you thought the rain could wash away.

You looked at him and that's when you noticed, his grin softened, you couldn't read his face but he let out a small huff.

Then he said, quieter, “I’ve always been sure of what I want in my damn life.”

You waited.

He rubbed a hand over his mouth, like the words had come out wrong and he was trying to fix them before they got away.

“But you,” he said. “You scare me.”

Your chest tightened.

“Me?”

“Yeah.” He laughed once, soft and disbelieving. “You. Because this isn’t me wanting an easy night or a quick kiss before the next bad thing happens.”

His eyes found yours.

“This is me wanting more than I know how to ask for.”

The rain filled the silence.

You looked up at him, warm all over despite the cold.

“Is that what you want?” you asked softly. “A kiss?”

“No,” he said at once.

Then his eyes widened.

Yours did too.

He blinked, caught by his own answer.

Then his mouth opened, startled and helpless.

“I mean yes!" he corrected quickly, ducking his head as you began to giggle. "No not... Fuck." he raised his hands, you laughed a little harder. “Jesus. Yes. That came out wrong. "

"Just..." he continued, dropping his hands, almost exasperated trying to explain as he looked away then ran a hand through his hair, "Not, just a kiss, ma'am, not just to have you now and then... never."

“Very smooth, Sergeant.” but the teasing had gone out of your voice as you stepped closer.

It had been weeks, of not knowing, of wanting and your chest felt impossibly light.

“I told you,” he said, smiling down at you. “You make me regret being charming.”

“You’re still charming.”

“Good.” His voice dropped. “Because I’m out of ideas.”

He leaned in slowly enough for you to stop him.

You didn’t.

The kiss was soft, a little rain-cold at first, then warmer when his hand came carefully to your sleeve, holding on like he had finally found the one place on the map he did not want to move from.

When he drew back, his forehead hovered near yours. His eyes hooded as he let out a quiet sigh.

"Don't lose me now." he whispered his thumb running down your cheek.

"No, sergeant...

warnings: mentions of death, murder, war, language

Joseph Liebgott loved you in a way that was reckless, like young love that typically burned too bright and fizzled out too quickly.

The two of you never had a defined relationship — only secret meetings when everyone else was sleeping or stolen kisses when it was available to you.

You were a nurse attached to Easy Company, the first of many women brave enough to become a paratrooper.

Joe couldn’t stand you when he had first met you, or so you thought until he drunkenly confessed his attraction to you after you both received your jump wings.

You had never believed that you and Joe would be anything more than what you were now.

That is, until Easy reached Austria.

You noticed a shift in Joe, like things were easier and lighter for him. For your undefined relationship. He began talking to you more about what comes next — going back home, getting married, buying a nice big house and having lots of little Liebgotts running around.

It had sounded nice, it truly did.

But fate was cruel.

Late night while patrolling in a jeep with Chuck Grant and two new replacement recruits under Grant’s command, the four of you stumbled across a drunken American paratrooper.

“Grant.” You warned, an easy feeling blossoming in your chest as you reached out and grabbed his arm.

He looked at you, “Relax. Liebgott would kill me if I let anything happen to you.”

You didn’t have time to ask what exactly he meant by that before he climbed out, approaching the soldier.

“You okay, Mac, you need some help?”

The laughter that followed made your stomach hurt. You felt fear slowly crawling up your throat.

“They wouldn’t give me any gas.” The soldier scoffed, “Krauts!”

“I tried to explain,” He continued, walking towards his own jeep. Grant followed as the man spoke, “this fucking limey wouldn’t listen. I think he was a major.”

You couldn’t hear Grant’s response or the rest of their conversation over the hum of the jeep. You noticed the crazed look on the private’s face, though, and your body moved before you could stop it.

“I need to make sure those people are alright.” You explained and waved the two privates with you to sit back down.

“Grant?” You called, noticing the solider walking away.

“Stay back!” Grant called to you, following after the man, “Hold on a second there, alright?”

Suddenly, the man turned, firing off his pistol blindly.

Joseph Liebgott was awoken in the middle of the night by Floyd Talbert.

“It’s [name].” Floyd had said in a hushed tone.

Joe didn’t need to hear anything else, hopping out of bed and throwing his uniform on as fast as he possibly could.

“Where is she?” He burst into the room, a doctor sitting idly by while Grant glanced up at Liebgott.

“Joe -“

“Where the hell is she, Chuck?”

“I’m sorry, Joe, we sent out a patrol to find the shooter —“ Grant tried to explain to no avail.

“Cut the bullshit, Sarg, just tell me where she is.” Joe was pleading now. He felt himself feeling more anxious by the second.

“[Name] didn’t make it, Lieb.”

It was Doc Roe who spoke up from behind him.

Joe turned so quick his neck popped, “The fuck does that mean?”

Eugene just pressed his lips together tightly.

Joe noticed the blood still smeared on Doc Roe’s uniform and he suddenly felt very ill.

“Where is she.” His voice broke on the last syllable.

You couldn’t be dead.

You had been alive just a few short hours ago, peeling yourself away from Joe and out of his stolen Austrian citizen’s bed to go on patrol.

“Don’t go,” He had pleaded with you, “I gotta bad feelin’.”

You brushed him off, saying he worried too much.

Doc led him to the next room, where a cold and empty feeling welcomed him.

Your body, small and pale, laid upon a metal table covered with a thin wool blanket.

“The bullet grazed me,” Grant had followed them, “It hit her square in the chest. She died immediately, Joe.”

Joe swore his legs moved on their own to reach your body, where the remnants of your warmth still clung to your skin just as he had hours ago. He shakily pulled the blanket away from your face, and felt a tear slide down his cheek at the lack of color in your face.

Your hair was messy, as it normally was.

Your eyelids were blue, so were your lips that once were a beautiful rosy shade, even in the cold winter air of Bastogne.

He stared at your eyelids, waiting for them to flutter as if you were dreaming as he had seen them do so many times before.

He glanced down, at the blood that stained your chest and now-torn uniform.

Joe’s breathing stopped.

“I should have told everyone.” Joe was speaking now.

Roe and Grant glanced at one another, ultimately deciding to leave the two of you alone one last time.

“I never should have kept you a secret sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” He wasn’t sure when he had began to cry, “I love you. Please don’t leave me.”

And as much as he cried and begged, you were not coming back to life.

While clinging to your lifeless body, Joseph Liebgott knew that he loved you in a way much deeper than something that could burn out.

What he would never know is that he was the last thing you had thought about was him waking in the morning, about how he would worry about where you were, and how impatient he would be trying to find you.

Then you died, and everything you had ever thought or ever felt for Joseph Liebgott went with you.

────୨ৎ────

warnings: sexual content implied

Eugene Roe 🩺

• absolutely the best guy best friend you could ask for

• doesn’t do that weird “I like someone and you know her very well”

• strictly platonic, always a gentleman

• but he’s definitely thought about it

• asks you for relationship advice, because he’s very nervous when it comes to that

• secretly learning everything that you want from a relationship

• sunshine (you) x sunshine protector (Doc)

• that or it would be introvert x extrovert and you’d constantly push him to get out of his shell

• now if it’s Doc, you, and Babe

• good lord. literally just pure chaos for Doc

• it’d be like herding cats

• chocolate lovers. he’s constantly giving you chocolate bars if he can get his hands on them. especially if something traumatic happened

• extremely protective. lowkey giving doberman energy when he notices someone taking interest in you.

Babe Heffron 🪖

• youngest child x oldest child vibes

• can’t spell (Babe) + somehow understands it (you)

• would (and probably already has) get into a fist fight over you

• Babe gives off “grew up with only sisters” energy so I think he would be so respectful and just a good best friend overall

• steals your food

• literally right off your plate in front of you

• puts shit on a higher shelf on purpose if you’re shorter than him

• probably hit on you once when he was really drunk

• he says he doesn’t remember it

• if you him and Doc all ended up in the same fox hole?

• you two would worry the hell out of Doc (and get a laugh out of it)

• hates all of your ex (& current) boyfriends

• would make out with a girl who looked suspiciously a lot like you

• would take a long time for him to confess outright

• you knew the whole time, you just wanted him to say it first

Joe Liebgott 🍫

• you’re the sweetest person ever

• he’s the biggest asshole you could meet

• absolute chaos the two of you

• has definitely beat someone up over you before

• easy company is genuinely shocked that Joe is able to befriend you

• you’re considered to be the smartest person in easy company, and Joe? well.

• overthinks (you) x doesn’t think (Joe)

• “hershey bars!” “lieb, you don’t need that you’re sweet enough.”

• flirtatious kind of friendship on his part

• would definitely make a dirty joke to make you blush or laugh

• lowkey no one can tell if the two of you are dating or not

• he’s probably secretly (or not so secretly) in love with you

• would definitely be the type to get jealous of you starting a relationship/talking to someone else

• would ruin your relationship on purpose

• voted most likely to get married by easy

Donald Malarkey 💌

• morons

• the two of you share one brain cell that barely works half the time

• after Skip and Penkala die, you two become a lot closer

• the four of you were best friends

• literally even more inseparable than before

• he definitely cried on your shoulder

• you never judged him

• Malarkey became more serious after their deaths, but you managed to keep him in good spirits

• makes jokes (you) + laughs (malarkey)

• you can’t let go of the time Sobel called him Lt Bullshit

• that’s probably what you call him majority of the time

• he has an equally offensive nickname that you hate he calls you

• things change when Skip & Penkala die

• the tension between you two is undeniable after

• he realizes he can’t live without you

• you two most definitely keep in contact after the war

• “and they were roommates.”

George Luz 📞

• so protective of you

• you two make each other laugh until you’re in tears

• annoying as hell when apart, even more annoying when together

• silly (you) x sillier (Luz)

• for the love of God, don’t play a movie that you two have already seen

• unfortunately Luz is the type to say “I like someone and you know her very well”

• it’s not cringe tho because I mean it’s George Luz.

• you two have probably hooked up at least once

• or have a steady thing going in secret

• you both claim it’s to stay in better shape

• you deny that if it comes up

• you try to play wigman/woman for him

• you probably just end up jealous

• Luz is the only one allowed to tease you

• friends to lovers excellence

• you and Luz get married after the war

Sledge, Shelton, Burgin

“Time had no meaning; life had no meaning. The fierce struggle for survival in the abyss of Peleliu eroded the veneer of civilisation and made savages of us all.”

a/n: I loveeeeee this idea!!!! it’s so cute and silly. thank you for the request, i genuinely had so much fun writing this <3

solely based on the band of brothers show

warnings: drinking, language, George Luz being an instigator and everyone else being stupid

Drinking Games

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The game had started because George Luz was slightly intoxicated — and so was everyone else, to be fair.

You were hardly anything other than lightly buzzed (you would swear this up and down later on).

So, when Luz proposed a game of “truth or drink,” you happily obliged.

The players consisted of the following: Luz, Grant, Talbert, Heffron, Webster, Liebgott, Roe and yourself. How you all managed to convince Webster and the Doc to join you was beyond belief.

“Okay, okay,” Luz hushed the clamoring crowd, “Babe, you’re up first. Truth or drink?”

“Truth.” He replied, easily, as if it was no big deal to have the George Luz ask you a question while intoxicated.

“Huge mistake.” You muttered into your drink. Babe shot you a bewildered look from the chair next to yours. Doc chuckled from the other side of you.

Joseph Liebgott, who happened to position himself in his chair directly across from you, smirked in your direction. You ignored him.

“When’s the last time you kissed someone?” Tab and Grant snickered in each other’s direction at Luz’s elementary-grade question

“Uhhh,” Babe thought for a moment, “When we were in Holland.”

Laughter erupted from the group, even a giggle escaping your lips.

“What!” He protested, then pointed at you, “I kissed her to keep some douchebag away from her!”

A chorus of “ooooh’s” rang out, but the amusement was gone from Liebgott’s smile. Instead, a bitter laugh that only you seemed to catch emerged.

You rolled your eyes, “Please, Heff, you practically begged me for that kiss.”

That got a laugh out of everyone, even Doc.

“Loser.” Luz remarked before moving on, pointing at Tab, “You.”

“Truth?” He sounded scared.

“Have you ever…” Luz put a finger to his chin, and then you cut him off.

“You can’t ask all the questions!” The guys agreed in unison with you.

“Fine!” George huffed, “You ask away, then.”

“Gladly.” You crossed your legs, “Tab, what’s the most scandalous place you’ve had sex in?”

“Jesus Christ.” Grant muttered from beside Tab, as if he had been asked the question.

“You sure are vulgar.” Luz chuckled as he lit a cigarette. You shrugged.

“That time I got caught with that redhead in the regulation jeep back in England.” Tab answered casually, undeterred by your question.

The guys roared with laughter, Babe nearly knocking his own chair over.

Then, it was Grant’s turn. He smiled nervously, holding his beer tightly as if it would save him.

Tab raised a brow, “So, that French woman that gave you bread…”

“Jesus…” Lieb muttered, but in reality, he wanted to know the truth behind this story, too.

“You didn’t even ask me truth or drink?” Grant pointed accusingly at Tab.

“Shut up,” You and Luz said in unison, “Jinx!”

Lieb rolled his eyes at the two of you.

“Children.” Doc shook his head, Babe laughing at his expression.

“Anyway,” Floyd continued, “that French broad, how did you get so many loaves of bread?”

Grant eyed all of your eager expressions before answering, “Fine. Okay, I told I’d come back later when her husband wasn’t home.”

Your mouth dropped open, and the sound Babe made was a mix between choking and laughter. Your eyes flicked over to Liebgott, just to find him already watching you. You quickly adverted your gaze, praying that your cheeks were already red from the alcohol.

You didn’t notice Joe smirking at your awkward encounter.

The game continued seamlessly (for the most part), Malarkey ended up finding his way to your table, asking Luz an unseemly truth or drink question that made even you blush.

“Listen, like I said, I had no idea she was married!” George replied, exasperated.

Malarkey shook his head as he sat in his newly acquired chair that he had yanked from a nearby table, “Perconte tells it differently, my friend!”

“Frank is full of shit.” Luz waved him off, and you were nearly crying with laughter. Lieb was even back to his usual self, laughing loudly as he elbowed Web.

Doc had nearly turned red when he asked Malarkey some very normal question about his rendezvous with a local English girl back in Aldbourne, and somehow the game got out of the circle order it had started in.

Lieb asked a very intoxicated Webster if he had ever actually finished any of the books he had been seen carrying around, to which Web replied, “Fuck off,” and everyone howled with laughter.

“Better than Flash Gordon or Dick Tracy.” You pointed a finger at Joe.

He grinned, “Don’t be jealous of my higher reading skills, sweetheart.”

You avoided his piercing gaze yet again, laughing off the feeling of your heart pounding in your chest.

“That leaves you and Lieb!” Malarkey pointed between the two of you.

“I have a good one!” Babe waved his hand around, and you nearly shoved him off the chair.

“Shoot.” Lieb shrugged.

Babe furrowed his brows, “For her, dumbass, not you.”

“Watch it!” Lieb warned, but the threat fell flat Babe only laughed louder.

“Okay? Let’s hear it?” You didn’t think to be nervous, it was Babe. He was your closest friend aside from Gene.

“Have you ever had a crush on anyone from Easy?”

The group nearly exploded with laughter, shouting, and a chorus of “tell us!”

You looked around awkwardly, “…Yeah.”

“Oh my God.” Luz spilt Grant’s beer trying to stand up, shaking the table as his hands slapped down on it.

“Who?!”

“Is it me?” Luz demanded.

“No—“

“Guys,” Surprisingly it was Joe who cut everyone off, and your eyes flickered back over to him as he said, “She answered the question. You only get one.”

The men protested, Tab said, “You’re just saying that cause you know it’s not you.”

Now, you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol talking or the way Joe’s face fell when Floyd Talbert said that. But something in you spoke for you as you said:

“Actually, it is Joe.”

Silence.

Real silence this time.

No laughter.

No shouting.

Not even from George Luz.

Every single face at the table turned, almost comically, toward Joe Liebgott.

Joe just stared at you.

He didn’t laugh. Didn’t smirk. Didn’t toss out one of those easy little comments he always seemed to have ready.

He just looked at you like he’d stopped understanding English.

Babe’s mouth fell open first.

Then Malarkey made a strangled choking sound into his drink.

Webster slowly lowered his glass.

Doc, beside you, went very still.

Luz blinked at you once, then at Joe, then back at you. “No,” he said weakly, like he physically could not process what had just happened. “No, hold on.”

Grant let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Holy shit.”

“Are you serious?” Babe demanded, nearly tipping his chair again in his excitement.

You could feel your face burning now, and there was no saving yourself from it. Not after that. Not after the whole table had just watched you hand your dignity over and throw it directly at Joseph Liebgott.

So, naturally, you did the only thing you could do.

You reached for your drink.

Luz pointed so hard at you his finger shook. “No! No drinking now! You already answered!”

“For fuck’s sake.” You swore loudly.

“Oh, my God,” Malarkey kept saying, like the phrase alone was carrying him through.

Grant was laughing into his hand now, shoulders shaking. Babe looked ready to either cheer or pass out. Even Webster had abandoned pretending to be above it all.

And through all of that, Joe still hadn’t moved.

He was still staring at you.

“Lieb?” Babe finally said, grinning so hard it looked painful. “You alive over there?”

That seemed to knock something loose in him.

Joe blinked once, dragged a hand over his mouth, then leaned back in his chair like he needed the wood there to hold him up.

The tips of his ears had gone red.

You noticed because of course you did.

And for some reason, that made it worse.

Or better.

Probably both.

Luz looked like he’d just seen God. “He’s blushing.”

“I am not,” Joe snapped.

“You are blushing!” Grant said. “Look at him!”

Doc lowered his head, smiling into his drink.

Joe shot him a glare. “Don’t you start.”

That only made Babe laugh harder. “Oh, this is the best night of my life.”

You covered half your face with one hand. “Can somebody please kill me.”

“No,” Luz said immediately. “I need to see how this ends.”

Joe finally tore his eyes off you long enough to glare at the rest of the table. “Will all of you shut the hell up?”

“Not a chance,” Malarkey said.

Talbert leaned in, thoroughly enjoying himself. “So what’s the problem, Lieb? Girl says she’s got a crush on you, and you look like you’re about to keel over.”

Joe opened his mouth, then shut it again.

And that—

That was what sent the whole table into another fit of laughter.

Because Joseph Liebgott always had something to say.

Always.

And now he had nothing.

You looked over at him again, unable to help yourself, and he must have felt it because his eyes found yours just as quickly.

The room was still loud. The table was still shaking with laughter and half-drunken outrage and Babe’s cackling.

But for one strange second, it didn’t feel loud at all.

Joe looked wrecked.

Just caught off guard in a way that seemed almost boyish on him, and so unfamiliar it made your chest tighten.

Then his mouth twitched.

Just once.

A small, crooked, disbelieving sort of smile.

“It’s Joe’s turn,” You said weakly, trying desperately to get the attention away from you.

“Jesus, woman,” Malarkey laughed, “You drop a bomb on us and expect us to move on that quick?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Luz saluted you at the sour expression you currently wore.

“Joseph D. Liebgott,” Luz cleared this throat. Joe rolled his eyes as he continued, “Truth or drink?”

“I’m shocked you even asked me.” Joe muttered, “Truth.”

“Wonderful!” Luz said a little too loudly, making you jump slightly. He eyed Talbert as if to telepathically ask him to continue for him.

“Do you,” Tab grinned and Grant looked more than amused, “Or do you not have a crush on [y/n]?”

All eyes were on him as he swallowed thickly, glancing at you, who wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“C’Mon, you already know the answer to that.”

Your head snapped up at this, staring at Joe.

“Oh, we know,” Babe smirked, “We just wanna hear you say it to her.”

“Yeah,” Joe huffed, then looked you right in the eyes as he said softer, “I gotta thing for you.”

“Oh, this is unbelievable,” Luz said, looking between the two of you with actual betrayal. “This is unbelievable. Since when?”

“George,” you said, your face so hot you thought you might actually die where you sat, “if you value your life, you will stop talking.”

“That bad, huh?” Babe laughed..

Joe dragged a hand over his mouth, already looking like he regretted ever agreeing to sit down at the table in the first place. He was red at the ears now, which was somehow worse than the confession itself. Worse because it made him look real. Less like the smug, impossible version of himself that always seemed to know exactly what to say, and more like a man who had just had his insides dragged out in front of seven people and a half-empty table of beer bottles.

Your heart gave a stupid little thump at the sight of it.

Luz was still rambling.

“I mean, I just want to know how long this has been going on. Am I the only one shocked? Is everyone else seeing this? Webster, are you seeing this?”

Webster took a drink. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“Grant?”

“I seen enough to know I ain’t sleeping tonight, George, if that helps.”

“Babe, you had to have known.”

Babe looked delighted. “I knew she had bad taste, sure.”

Joe pointed at him. “Man, I told you to watch it.”

“No, no, this is great,” Luz said, leaning further over the table as if he could physically get closer to the gossip. “This is fantastic. Tell us everything.”

You stared at him. Then at the table. Then at Joe, who looked about one second away from either walking out or strangling somebody.

And maybe it was still the alcohol. Maybe it was the fact that Joe had just looked right at you and admitted it in front of everybody. Maybe it was because if you stayed at that table one more minute with all of them cackling like schoolboys, you were going to combust.

Whatever it was, you turned to Joe and said, a little too quickly, “Do you want to get out of here?”

The whole table fell silent.

Not loud silence this time.

That sharp, stunned sort of silence where everyone was too busy processing what they had just heard.

Luz blinked. “Excuse me?”

Babe’s mouth dropped open in theatrical horror.

Malarkey made a strangled sound like he was trying not to laugh and failing miserably.

Grant looked between the two of you and muttered, “Jesus Christ.”

Webster actually leaned back in his chair as if he needed distance from the level of boldness currently happening in front of him.

And Doc — traitor, quiet, observant Doc — just looked down into his drink again, smiling to himself.

You could feel all of them staring.

Your spine stiffened immediately. “Not like—” You stopped, because explaining yourself would only make it worse. “I just mean—outside. Away from all of… this.”

Luz put a hand to his chest. “From all of this? We made this happen.”

“That’s exactly why I’d like to leave.”

Babe barked out a laugh. “She is cold.”

Joe was still looking at you.

He had gone very still again, but it was different this time. Less shocked. More intent. Like the room had dropped away for him too and all he could hear now was that question.

“Yeah,” he said after a second, voice low. “Yeah, alright.”

That was apparently enough to send the whole table into fresh chaos.

“No way.”

“Oh, they’re leavin’!”

“Together!”

“Like we can’t all see that, Luz,” Webster muttered, though he was laughing too.

Luz pointed wildly between the two of you. “You can’t just leave now! We are in the middle of something historic!”

“We’re in the middle of nothing,” Joe said, pushing his chair back.

“The hell we are,” Malarkey laughed.

Babe was grinning so hard it was almost painful to look at. “Aren’t you gonna kiss in front of us first?”

Joe shot him such a flat look that Babe only laughed harder.

You stood up too fast, bumping the table on your way up and nearly knocking into Doc. He steadied your elbow automatically, still smiling in that quiet little way of his.

“Thanks,” you muttered.

“Mhm.”

That alone made you narrow your eyes at him. “Don’t you start either.”

“I didn’t say nothin’.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Across the table, Joe had gotten to his feet and was already shrugging into his jacket. He glanced at you once, quick and unreadable, but there was something almost boyish under it now. Something nervous. Something that made your pulse kick all over again.

Luz was still protesting as the two of you stepped away from the table.

“This is ridiculous. This is outrageous. After everything I’ve done for this company—”

“George,” Grant cut in, still laughing, “let ‘em go.”

“Yeah,” Babe called after you. “Have fun!”

“Shut up!” you tossed over your shoulder, which only made them louder.

The room behind you broke into whistles and catcalls the second Joe reached the door ahead of you and held it open. You wanted to die. Or throw something. Or both.

Joe just shook his head once and muttered, “Animals,” under his breath as you slipped out into the hall.

The door swung shut behind you.

And blessed silence.

Well—not silence, exactly. You could still hear the noise from the room in a muffled sort of way, laughter and banging and Luz’s voice carrying above everybody else’s. But out here it was dimmer. Farther away. The hallway was cooler too, and suddenly you were very aware that you had just walked out of a crowded room with Joe Liebgott after admitting you liked him and hearing him say it back.

You stopped a few steps from the door and folded your arms over yourself, though it did nothing for the heat in your face.

“Well,” you said.

Joe huffed a laugh.

It was a small sound, rough around the edges.

“Well,” he echoed.

You looked at him then.

His hair was a little mussed. His cheeks were still touched pink from the alcohol. He had his hands in his pockets now like he didn’t trust himself with them, shoulders loose but not relaxed. His eyes found yours almost immediately, and there it was again—that feeling of being pinned in place by nothing more than the way he looked at you.

Inside, somebody pounded on the wall and cheered.

You shut your eyes for one second. “I am never speaking to any of them again.”

Joe smiled, crooked and quiet. “Yeah, you are.”

“No. This is it. I’m done. New unit. New life.”

“Think Speirs’d write your transfer papers?”

That made you laugh despite yourself, and the second the sound left you, something in his face softened.

That look nearly did you in.

“You alright?” he asked.

The question should have been simple.

It wasn’t.

Because no, not really. Not in any reasonable way. You had just confessed a crush in front of a table full of men, and then Joe had looked right at you and said it was you, and now the two of you were standing in a hallway pretending there was any world in which this was normal.

So you said the only thing you could.

“No.”

Joe laughed under his breath again and dipped his head. “Yeah. Me neither.”

For a second, neither of you said anything.

The laughter from inside swelled and fell behind the door. Somewhere farther down the hall, somebody walked past without paying either of you much mind. The building creaked softly around you.

Then Joe said, “You really asked me if I wanted to get outta there.”

You winced. “I know.”

“That was bold.”

“That was panic.”

His mouth twitched. “Didn’t seem like panic.”

“It was panic wearing a brave hat.”

That got a real laugh out of him, low and warm and impossible not to like.

God, that was unfair.

You looked down at the floor. “I just… couldn’t sit there anymore with all of them looking at us.”

“Us,” he repeated. Very softly.

You looked back up.

He was still smiling, but smaller now. Less amused. More like he was trying the word on, seeing how it fit.

Heat rushed right back into your face.

“I didn’t mean—”

“Yeah,” he said, stepping a little closer. “You did.”

You should have said something clever.

Something that sounded more like yourself and less like the sort of girl who had just accidentally handed a man her heart in front of an audience.

Instead you just stood there and watched him.

Joe noticed everything. He always had. The way your breath caught. The way you shifted your weight when you got nervous. The way your fingers tightened around the edge of your sleeve now.

His voice dropped when he spoke again.

“You can still tell me I got it wrong.”

You blinked. “What?”

“In there.” He nodded toward the door. “You can still tell me I got it wrong. That you didn’t mean it like that. That I’m an idiot and they all got in my head.”

He said it almost casually, but not quite. Like he was trying to make it easy for you. Easy for himself too, maybe, if this all turned out to be less than what it felt like.

And something about that—Joe, who so rarely gave anybody a soft place to land, trying to give one to you—made your chest ache.

“I’m not telling you that,” you said.

His eyes stayed on yours. “No?”

“No.”

The word came out quieter than you intended, but it landed between you all the same.

Joe exhaled through his nose, and you could swear some tension left him with it.

“Good,” he said.

“Good?”

“Yeah.”

He was closer now. Close enough that if you moved even a little, you’d brush his jacket. Close enough that his voice didn’t have to be above a murmur.

“Because I meant it too.”

Your heart stumbled.

You laughed once, but it came out shaky. “You already said that.”

“I know.” His gaze dropped briefly to your mouth and back up again. “Think maybe I wanna say it where there ain’t an audience.”

The air in the hallway changed.

Or maybe it was just you.

You swallowed. “And what exactly are you saying, Joseph Liebgott?”

He smiled at that—small, slow, all but ruined by the softness underneath it.

“I’m sayin’ I been lookin’ at you for months,” he said. “I’m sayin’ I hate when other guys get too close. I’m sayin’ every time you laugh at somethin’ somebody else says, I gotta act like it don’t bother me when maybe it does.”

Your pulse was absolutely everywhere now.

Joe took one more step closer.

“I’m sayin’ when Babe kissed you in Holland, I wanted to kill him.”

That made a surprised laugh burst out of you.

“You did not.”

“I did.”

“He was trying to help me.”

“I know that.” Joe’s mouth twitched. “Should’ve been me.”

You were smiling now, helplessly, and he looked so stupidly pleased by that fact that it made your stomach turn over.

“I’m sayin’,” he continued, quieter now, “I got it bad for you. Worse than I thought.”

The words settled warm and heavy somewhere just under your ribs.

For once, you didn’t look away.

Joe’s hand came out of his pocket slowly, like he was giving you every chance in the world to stop him. His fingers brushed the edge of your sleeve first, then your wrist, careful and almost hesitant.

“If you don’t want this…” Joe began.

You shook your head.

His thumb moved once over the inside of your wrist.

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

That one came out as barely more than a whisper.

Inside the room, the boys shouted again—something loud and half-laughing and impossible to make out through the door.

Neither of you moved.

Then Joe said, very gently, “You got us outta there. Now what?”

You could have laughed. You could have hidden. You could have made a joke.

Instead, because your courage seemed to be doing all kinds of reckless things tonight, you looked right at him and said, “I think I want to kiss you.”

Joe went still.

Completely, entirely focused on you.

“You think?” he asked, voice rough.

You gave the tiniest shrug, trying and failing to look unaffected. “I’m still deciding.”

He smiled then and the sight of it was enough to make your knees feel unreliable.

“Yeah?” he murmured. “Take your time.”

“Oh, you are insufferable.”

“Maybe.” He leaned in just a little, enough that you could feel his warmth now. “Still wanna kiss me?”

You did not dignify that with an answer.

You reached for the front of his jacket and kissed him instead.

Joe made a quiet sound against your mouth, surprised only for a second before one hand came up to your waist and held there, steady and warm and sure. The kiss itself wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t sloppy either, despite the drinks and despite the fact that the two of you had spent the last ten minutes getting publicly destroyed by your friends.

It was better than that.

It was careful for one brief second, like he was making certain this was real.

Then you kissed him again, and any caution he had left seemed to disappear.

His hand tightened slightly at your waist. Yours curled harder into his jacket. He kissed you like he had wanted to for a long time and had only just now been given permission.

Which, you supposed, was exactly what this was.

When you finally pulled back, it wasn’t by much. Your forehead nearly brushed his, and you were both breathing a little differently than before.

Joe looked down at you with that same stunned, soft sort of expression he’d worn at the table, only now there was nothing disbelieving left in it.

Just you.

“Well,” he said quietly.

You laughed, still a little breathless. “You’re stealing my lines now.”

“Maybe.”

The door behind you flew open so suddenly you both jumped apart by an inch.

Luz stuck his head out first.

Then Babe immediately shoved in under his shoulder, followed by Grant somewhere behind them trying to see around the both of them.

“There they are!” Luz stage-whispered, like he’d found fugitives.

You closed your eyes. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” Babe said cheerfully, grinning at the two of you like Christmas had come early. “Also, wow.”

“Were you spying on us?” Joe asked flatly.

“Spying is such an ugly word,” Luz said.

“You were gone too long,” Grant added from the back.

Webster’s voice drifted from somewhere inside the room. “Did they kiss or not?”

Luz looked deeply offended. “I’m getting to it!”

Joe rubbed a hand over his face. “Unbelievable.”

Babe waggled his brows. “So… did you?”

You looked at Joe.

Joe looked at you. He shrugged.

Then, because apparently tonight was hell and heaven mixed into one and you had already survived the worst of it, you lifted your chin and said, “Maybe.”

The howl that came from the room was so loud it practically shook the doorframe.

Joe laughed — full and helpless this time — and glanced down at you like he couldn’t help himself.

Yeah.

Summary: You have a crush. You have no clue how to get his attention. Joe Leibgott has a bright idea to help you out.

Warnings/Disclaimers: reader is implied female, swearing, light angst (hardly any tbh just Joe being Joe)

WC: 592

Joseph Liebgott had a habit of getting under people’s skin.

Yours, however, was usually a lot harder to get under. So, when you snapped off at him, he was rightfully concerned.

“C’mon,” he drawled, leaning against the doorway of the barn like he owned the place, “don’t tell me you’re still sulking. It was a joke, sweetheart.”

You didn’t look at him. You kept folding bandages with a precision that suggested violence.

“Joseph.”

Oho. Full name. That was new.

“What?” He grinned, undeterred. “You love when I tease you.”

You snapped the bandage roll onto the table hard enough to make Doc Roe glance over and immediately decide this was none of his business.

“No,” you said quietly. “I don’t.”

That wiped the grin clean off Liebgott’s face.

He straightened. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

Silence stretched between you, thick and uncomfortable. You hated this part—the vulnerability, the stupid hope that crawled up your throat every time you let yourself think about him. Doc pretended he didn’t feel the awkwardness, quietly excusing himself and leaving the barn.

You exhaled. Gave in.

“I… I like someone,” you said, barely above a whisper. “A lot, actually.”

Liebgott blinked. Once.

Then—“Come again, sweetheart?”

You shot him a look. “Oh, you heard me the first time, asshole.”

That got a reaction.

He laughed once, sharp and surprised. “Wait—you like someone?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

You hesitated. Your eyes flickered to the group that was located further away, where a certain man stood out.

And that look told him everything.

“…No,” he said slowly. “Don’t tell me.”

You swallowed. “It’s stupid.”

“Is it—” He paused, eyes narrowing as realization hit him like incoming artillery. “—Speirs?”

You closed your eyes.

“Oh my God,” Liebgott groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You’re kidding.”

“It would never work,” you said quickly. “It would never happen. He barely looks at anyone. And even if he did—”

“Jesus Christ,” Liebgott muttered. “You picked the most terrifying man in the regiment.”

“I don’t need commentary.”

“No, you need help.”

You frowned. “What?”

“Well,” he said, squaring his shoulders like he was about to pitch the worst idea known to mankind, “I’ve gotten many a lady in my day—”

“Oh good grief.”

“—and clearly you need coaching.”

“I do not.”

“I’ll be your fake boyfriend.”

“No.”

“So you’ll be my fake girlfriend,” he corrected smoothly, “and I can enjoy Easy Company’s shock and astonishment.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet,” he smirked, “you didn’t say no to the second part.”

You hated that he noticed.

You didn’t tell him yes.

You just didn’t tell him no.

Which is how, two days later, Easy Company collectively lost its damn mind.

“Another day, another—why the fuck is Lieb holding her hand?” Guarnere muttered.

“I think I’m going blind,” Malarkey said. “My eyes burn.”

“She’s completely out of his league,” Babe added, helpfully.

Liebgott, the menace that he was, leaned down and murmured, “Smile, doll. They’re watching.”

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” you whispered through clenched teeth.

“Absolutely,” he said. “Worth it.”

And the thing was—

He was good at it.

Too good.

He remembered how you took your coffee. He walked you back to the nurses’ quarters without being asked. He stood just close enough to be convincing, just far enough not to push—unless you leaned in first.

Which you did.

Once.

Then twice.

Then without thinking.

The first time he kissed you, you swore it was all in your head.

“Kiss you?” You had all but shouted.

Joe quickly hushed you by putting his finger to your lips, “We have to add the wow factor, princess.”

“You’re gonna get the wow factor, Liebgott,” You said.

“And it’s not gonna be what you think.” You quickly added after seeing the smug look on his face.

“Just one kiss.” Joe insisted. How could you say no to those beautiful eyes of his?

“Ugh, fine.” You huffed after a moment of silence, “One.”

Joe grinned like a kid on Christmas, taking your face in his hands. He was gentle, a lot more than you would have expected.

When his lips met yours, your heart betrayed you. It was only a brief kiss, not even lasting more than five seconds it seemed, but to you? You knew you were done for.

Somewhere between shared cigarettes and quiet laughter, between his teasing softening into something gentler, something real, you stopped looking for Speirs in a room.

But Joe? Joe knew better than to get his hopes up.

What you didn’t know was that Joseph Leibgott had fallen in love with you the moment he laid eyes on you. He knew you were everything he had ever wanted in a woman. The only problem? He saw how you looked at Ron Speirs. How selfish of him to find a loophole of having you — even if it was pretend.

He would do it all again for this short time of you being his.

The day Ronald Speirs finally took notice of you, it was a day late and a dollar short.

Joseph Liebgott knew it the second he saw the way Speirs’ attention lingered. The way his eyes tracked you now—measuring, curious, interested.

Joe wasn’t surprised.

He’d always known how beautiful you were. Not just the kind that turned heads—but the kind that stayed with people. The kind that made even the most unreachable men look twice.

It had only been a matter of time before his little scheme ran its course.

Before pretend turned into something dangerous. Especially when it was already painful for him.

Before his feelings had to be shoved back down where they belonged.

So when he overheard it—

“Would you like to go out with me?” Speirs asked, voice low, steady.

Joe didn’t wait for your answer.

He was already moving, boots hitting the floor hard as he left the room, jaw tight, expression carved from something bitter and resigned.

Behind him, you hesitated. This was what you wanted, right?

“I—” you started, then swallowed. “I’ll… I’ll see if I have time soon.”

It wasn’t a yes.

It wasn’t a no.

But it was enough.

You excused yourself quickly and went looking for Joe.

You found him outside, back turned, cigarette burning forgotten between his fingers.

“Joe,” you said softly.

He didn’t look at you.

“So,” he muttered, “congratulations.”

“What?”

“You got your wish, princess.”

“My wish?” You stepped closer. “Joe—”

“Don’t,” he snapped, finally turning. His eyes were sharp now. Guarded. “Don’t act like this wasn’t always the point.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” he scoffed. “You wanted him. You got him.”

“That’s not—”

“I only did this to help you. So don’t act like it was anything more than that.”

You had no response to that.

Of course it was all a game to him. A plan to pass his time. That’s what you wanted, too, right?

So why did his next words hurt so badly?

“Just be good to each other,” Joe said flatly. “That’s all.”

Your chest tightened. “Joe, please—”

But he was already walking away. The tears began to well up in your eyes. Hot, wet, wounding.

And after that, he wouldn’t look at you.

Wouldn’t joke.

Wouldn’t tease.

Wouldn’t talk.

The absence hurt worse than anything else ever had.

You’d rather Joe hurt your feelings a hundred times than never speak to you again.

—

You went out with Speirs anyway.

Because that’s what people did when they made mistakes—they followed them through.

He was polite. Direct. Surprisingly attentive.

And you felt… nothing.

Your laughter sounded wrong to your own ears. Your thoughts drifted constantly—back to a sharp grin, a warm shoulder, a voice that used princess like it was something precious instead of patronizing.

Warm lips that fit your own like they were made for it.

Speirs noticed.

“You’re distracted,” he said after a while.

You didn’t deny it.

“I’ve made a mistake,” you admitted quietly.

He studied you for a long moment, then nodded once. No anger. Just understanding.

“Is it Liebgott?”

Your silence was answer enough.

“I figured.” Speirs shrugged.

You quickly looked up. He continued.

“I wasn’t blind, I saw how you two were with each other.” Speirs lit a cigarette, “You two clearly have unresolved feelings.”

You felt your eyes begin to betray you again, welling up quicker than you’d like to admit, “Ron…”

“No.” A quick shake of his head, a smile, “Be good to each other.”

God, you really wished everyone would quit saying that to you.

—

“Doc?” You barged into the room unceremoniously.

Gene glanced up, startled, “Yes, nurse?”

“Have you seen Jos- Leibgott?” You corrected yourself from the familiar name.

With a knowing smile, Gene said: “He’s with the guys outside the mess.”

Joe was with the guys when you found him. Exactly where Doc said he’d be.

Babe Heffron, Dick Winters, Lewis Nixon, Donald Malarkey—the usual circle. They were smoking cigarettes (aside from Captain Winters, of course), laughing and cutting up as per usual.

You stormed right up to him, effectively killing the mood.

“Everything alright?” Captain Winters asked, clearly concerned.

“Can we talk?” You demanded, not even acknowledging the others. Babe and Malarkey exchanged a look.

Joe didn’t even turn around. “No, princess, we cannot.”

“Please.”

“No—” He began to turn around.

You didn’t give him time to finish.

You grabbed his collar and kissed him.

Hard. Unapologetic. In front of everyone.

The world stopped. Joe froze — then melted into it, hands gripping your waist like he’d been waiting for this moment all along.

Then —

Winters cleared his throat.

“Well,” Heffron muttered.

“I’ll be damned—” Nixon started.

“Oh my God,” Malarkey said dramatically, turning away. “My eyes. Again.”

“Are they about to do it right in front of us?” Nixon laughed, Winters elbowing him. “Ow.”

When you pulled back, breathless, his forehead rested against yours.

“You don’t get to decide for me,” you whispered. “I choose you.”

Joe exhaled shakily. “Christ… you’re gonna kill me.”

But he was smiling.

And Easy Company?

Floyd Talbert x reader

A/N: Hey there @typical-simplelove 😁I was the person chosen to write you a story for the HBO War Daily Short Story Exchange! It's my first time writing a fic with Tab, so I hope it turned out okay and that you like it! 💕 Word Count: 846 Warnings: brief mention of war

“i can arrange for a purple heart”

Ask: Can I request a Shifty fic where theyre both super duper shy and instead one of the boys have to be like wingmen and push them to finally confess to each other. 

a/n: I might have written this at 2 am but I swear I loved writing it so much. My love for shifty is infinite, anyway thank you and I hope you enjoy!

Tag List: @gottapenny @wexhappyxfew @bandofmarvels @medievalfangirl @starryrevelations

Geroge Luz was well aware of the company’s medic and her humongous school crush on Darrell “Shifty” Powers. Y/n y/l/n known as the very shy medic, often only speaking when it was necessary, was caught many times by Geroge staring at Shifty from across the room. Smiling to herself and blushing at the mention of is name. 

It all started back in Toccoa when George Luz caught both of them smiling at each other sheepishly, looking away and then again at each other. A blush on both of their cheeks, however, y/n was better at hiding that goofy smile of hers. Shifty, however, was an utter mess, right then, and there, Luz furrowed his brows and looked around to see if anyone else had witnessed whatever had happened. “What the fuck.” 

*

From that moment forward, Luz decided to help y/n out with her silly crush, as one of her closest friends, he felt as if he had a duty to push her closer to Shifty. The only problem was that Shifty was just as shy as she was. 

“—help with what?” Y/n stuffed the bandages in her small medic bag, George only rolled his eyes as he watched the poor girl trying to stuff as many supplies as she could. A cigarette dangled from his lips as he dreaded the thought of having to re-explain everything all over again. 

“C’mon y/n, you two kids would make a marvelous couple!” George jokingly cheered clapping his hands making y/n jump slightly dropping a small tube of ointment onto the floor of the aid station. “Shifty’s a hell of a kid,” y/n rolled her eyes and knelt to pick up the ointment.

“I like him, but not like that,” she spoke strained as she reached for the ointment under the small table. 

“Ooh, here he comes!” The sudden phrase, making her fumble and drop the tube again, as she lifted herself from the position she was in, the only hit her head on the table and fell backward onto the floor of the aid station. 

“It’s just me, kid,” the voice coming from none other than Joe Toye, who came into vision, both him and George giving her a hand to help her up. “This about her gigantic crush on Powers?” He asked as y/n stood up, sighing as she reached up to press on the tender spot on her head. George gave an “uh-huh” to respond to Joe’s question; Joe only shook his head and clicked his tongue.

“You were saying y/n?” Y/n groaned softly and shook her head, realizing that she indeed had a crush on Shifty, and it was a huge crush. She took her bottom lip, in between her teeth, and sighed.

“All you need is a little push,” Joe used his hands to signal a small push, y/n turned to him and gave him a small smile as a thank you. Joe gave her a little wink before feeling a punch on his shoulder.

“what she needs is a shove,” George called before walking out of the aid station, leaving both y/n and Joe shocked. Joe only sighed and placed a hand on her shoulder as a sign of reassurance. 

*

George tried time after time to get her to make a move; it came down to threatening her with taking her medical supplies. However, Roe overheard and instead gave him a talk about how short they were. Y/n standing next to Eugene the whole time trying to hold back her giggles. 

But later, Roe understood as to why Geroge had threatened her. He called over to y/n who was supposed to be counting their supplies; instead, she leaned on the doorway of the small building. Watching Shifty and Tab playfully shoving each other, her eyes filled with nothing but adoration. Roe turned to George in question; he only gave him a small shrug and a sigh of defeat. It was as if Roe himself could hear the pounding of her heart against her ribcage, a goofy smile on her face as she bit her bottom lip. Her eyes never leaving the sight of the Virginian boy, who was too oblivious as to what he did to the poor girl.

“y/l/n you’re drooling,” Roe’s smooth cajun accent snapping her out of her gaze, causing her to snap her head towards the medical supplies in her hands. George only shook his head and continued fixing his radio, as Roe shook his head in disbelief. 

“Am not,’’ she protested as she used the back of her hand to wipe the non-existent drool off her mouth. Geroge was chuckling as she did so as she gave one last gaze towards the boy outside of the building, which gave her a small wave. This time Roe witnessed the whole thing, the second she brought her hand up to wave back, a toothy smile appeared on her reddened face. Turning away, she giggled to herself as she went back to counting the supplies. She looked up from the supplies to see both Eugene and George watching her with expressions of disbelief written all over their faces. “What?’’

“My God, Y/n.’’ Eugene started, still in disbelief as to what he just witnessed. George threw his head back and laughed at Eugene’s reaction. “My God…’’ he trailed off as he carried the crate of supplies out of the small house. Y/n confused as to what he meant, she looked towards George for some clue, but instead, he continued to laugh himself.

*

Geroge mentally and physically face palmed whenever she tried actually to make a move. She would smile and wave at him ever so awkwardly— Shifty nervously and awkwardly returning the greeting. Both of them just staring at each other with goofy smiles on their faces, all resulting in y/n red as a tomato. Shifty fumbling and dropping whatever he was holding. George only watched with nothing but pure agony.  A hand over his mouth, trying his best not to scream. 

The situation was bad. To the point in which George had to ask someone to help, he turned to Muck and Malarkey. In the heat of the moment, it seemed like a good idea. Hours after explaining the situation at hand, George found both of the boys— along with Penkala and Roe as an audience, in a barn lecturing y/n. Poor y/n who sat on an apple crate listening attentively to muck and Malark ramble on.

“—and that’s how you’ll win him over,” Muck finished, taking a bow as y/n furrowed her brows and looked over at Penkala, who clapped his hands. Roe, however, was just as confused and disturbed by the presentation given. Gene was sending her a small shrug, not knowing himself if the information was correct or not. George only walked in and heard the little commotion, a scared y/n looking for help.

* 

When it came time to put the knowledge she had gained from Malarkey and Mucks five minute presentation, she was more nervous than anything. The five boys hid behind a tree, prepping her by giving her compliments and fixing the nest her hair was in. Muck adding a dainty dandelion over her ear as Roe patted her on the shoulder. George still not knowing what she was about to do. Until Penkala pulled a pencil out of his pocket.

“You don’t want to forget your weapon!” He whispered, handing the pencil over to her, y/n taking it into her fingers. She turned to the small field shifty was alone in, too concentrated on cleaning out his M-1. Her heart pounded against her chest as she realized that she was about to make a fool out of her self.

“You got this, all you have to do is drop the pencil” Malarkey explained as he placed his hands on the girl’s shoulders. George furrowed his brows and opened his mouth to speak.

“This is a bad idea,” he spoke, no one paying attention, but Roe, who looked at him dead in the eye and slowly nodded. Y/n sighed deeply and closed her eyes, pumped full of adrenaline and ready to initiate something with the shy boy.

“Wait! What if he wants to kiss me? I don’t know how to kiss!” She froze turning to the boys who all looked at each other, George facepalming and groaning, Muck slowly turning to him and smacking his arm. Y/n opening her mouth to speak again, but instead, Muck pushed her.

“It probably won’t get to that, just focus on the pencil y/n” Muck encouraged, patting her shoulder. “Go get ‘em tiger.” 

And then y/n made her way towards the field where shifty sat alone. Her heart pounding harder and harder with every step she took. Until she was close enough to Shifty, the five boys behind the tree watching attentively.

“I call being the godfather of their first child,” Muck whispered as they all watched her greet Shifty; he set his gun aside and turned his attention to y/n, who nervously tapped the pencil to her side. 

“Twenty dollars they get married in three years,” Malarkey whispered, making Penkala chuckle, they watched as both shifty and y/n smiled and continued their conversation. George was trying to figure out what they were conversing about. “I can’t hear what they’re saying” 

“I can’t read lips, but I think she just said something about soup” Muck spoke up, Roe only closed his eyes and sighed deeply as he attentively watched along. “What does a godfather do?”

“I don’t know Muck shut up,” Penkala hushed as they waited for the moment they were all waiting for. Y/n turning towards the tree, seeing all of them urging her to drop the pencils taking a deep breath, she did so— without making it too visible, of course. Malarkey was very specific about that. The boys all chuckled and watched on with wide smiles on their faces as she continued to proceed with the plan. She bent over to pick it up, and her bottom pointed to Shifty. But then, as she bent down shifty lunged forward to pick it up. She was sending y/n to the floor and Shifty on top of her. A string of giggles were heard coming from the young medic, followed by a snort.

“Ohhhh,” the boys behind the tree all repeated as they watched the whole thing unfold. George turned around and holding his mouth with his left hand trying his best not to scream. Roe was only closing his eyes tightly, Muck and the others watching as to what was happening. 

“Why are they just… what’s?” Malarkey trailed off, his eyes glued on the scene. Both y/n and shifty not moving. Instead, they stayed like that for a few minutes. Until Roe gasped and pointed towards the stage, y/n’s arms wrapped around shifty’s neck, pulling him down towards her.

“They’re kissing!” Muck gasped, making George turn around, and he couldn’t believe it. After months of trying to help y/n, he finally did it— with the help of course.

“My God, she did it,” George spoke in disbelief as he watched the scene unfold. The boys quietly cheered as both shifty and y/n continued to lay on the field. However, they had decided that watching from afar had become a tad bit creepy and instead turned around.

“Should we get them off each other? What if they make a baby? Oh god—“ Muck spoke in a panic, George only shook his head and pushed the boys far away from the scene. 

Joe Liebgott x Engaged!Reader - two.