Can I request an angsty lieb x reader fic in which the reader pushes alley away from the potato masher at crossroads and it hits her instead and like joe is literally dying inside cuz they had been fighting prior to that? Thanks xx
I got this request yesterday and the little time that took me to write it scares me
Summary: the European conflict seems to be coming to an end when Easy Company stumbles upon the true horrors of it. This terrible discovery shakes Liebgott to his core, forcing him to be pulled back by Y/n. Having some time alone with each other, their friendship, much like the war, appears to be reaching its culmination.
Warnings: implied torture and abuse (yk the labor camp), violence, language
A/N: the universe knows why I wrote this idk, probably because that one scene of Liebgott delivering the message to the concentration camp prisoners and then breaking down makes me wanna give him a hug. Enjoy<3
Rogue-durin-16 masterlist
"Hey." I gently reached to hold both his hands, putting them away from his face. "Joe. Joe, c'mon." He frantically denied with his head still casted down, his shoulders shaking from the restrained sobs. "C'mon darlin'." My voice shattered, as he managed to meet my eyes with his bloodshot ones.
As if it was not traumatizing enough to have found this diabolical camp was meant to keep Jewish people and other minorities, we now were supposed to locked them back in and take away their food.
I obviously hadn't understood this by myself, as I was splitting up and distributing the food with Malarkey when Major Winters broke the news to Liebgott.
Webster, who had been standing by my side, was kind enough to halfheartedly translate what Joe announced to the prisoners.
Joe, out of everyone.
Once it was over, chaos and dispair began to reign in the awful place, and I lost no time to jump off the vehicle I stood in, rushing to get to Liebgott, who I had seen breaking down quietly in the truck he had climbed onto to be heard.
"I need to get you outta here right now." I whispered, squeezing his knees. Joe sniffed, shaking his head 'no'. "Yes, c'mon." I stood up on the truck and pulled him with me; for whatever reason, despite his words, he didn't fight back as I jumped off the vehicle and made him follow me.
The more we dove into the crowd of tortured people I had just surfed, the tighter Joe's grip on my hand and forearm became, as if it was the only thing stopping the man's legs from giving in.
I could hear his breath hitch everytime one of the prisoners touched him or grabbed his clothes. He was just a kid —just like all of us— who was not meant to see this.
By the time we made it to the door, Joe was jerking as a consequence of refraining the raw cries, and my forearm had turned numb. Half a minute felt like an eternity in that place.
"Web!" My friend quickly jogged to meet us, helping me carry Joe out. "Major Winters, sir, we have to—"
"Borrow our jeep, Y/l/n." I nodded at our leader. "Webster, you gotta stay. We need a translator still."
"Yes, sir." Webster helped Joe into the jeep and spun around. "Perconte! Can you drive them back?"
He walked away, exchanging places with Frank while I hopped into the backseat with Liebgott, who was not even near to calm down, but at least his hysterical shake had diminished a bit.
"It's gonna be alright, Joe." I attempted to calm him down, stroking his hair with one hand while the other remained hostage of his grip. "It'll be alright, you'll see. I'm here, okay? We're all here."
Once Perconte had driven us away from the camp, Liebgott folded on the jeep, his upper body falling over his thighs, his hands loosening their hold on my forearm.
I kept my fingers running through his locks; planting a kiss over his shoulder blade, I sat upright in silence, taking in the horrors of the war we had just beholden until the vehicle came to a halt.
"Okay," Frank jumped off the jeep and rushed to help Liebgott out, holding him until my feet were planted on the ground too. "I gotta return the— shit, Y/n!"
"What is it?"
"Your arm— Jesus."
I looked down at my forearm, bare due to my shirt being rolled up, to be met with a big ugly bruise all over it. Angry, tiny red crescent moons adorned the purple and blue marks like stars lighting the sky.
"It's alright." I assured both Perconte and Liebgott, whose face had just tinted a whole new hundred shades of horrified. "It's fine." I repeated, taking Joe's arm to lead him into the building we had occupied to spend the night.
"I gotta... Return the jeep."
"I'll be back in a moment."
"You don't have to." The technician responded, sitting back in the driver's seat. "We got it handled. You take care of him." I then nodded and took Liebgott inside, praying to be able to prevent him from caving in before we reached his assigned room.
To my surprise, midway through our way there, his sorrow changed into anger, that anger of his that would be triggered with the flip of a switch.
Liebgott sprinted upstairs, leaving me behind, and quickly disappearing from the halls.
I took my time to reach his door, hearing the scene from the outside, and deciding it was better to stay out of it. Joe was a sweetheart, but he could go off the rails very easily.
To be fair, after seeing what we had just seen, I too wanted to do what he was doing, but one of us had to keep a hold of themselves.
Not being able to delay my entrance any further, I stood on the doorframe, reaching it just as Joe was throwing one last punch straight through the wall, letting out a rage-fueled cry before limply walking to plop down on the bed.
I took the end of the outburst as my cue to get in, and so, without saying a word, I got closer to the boy step by step, occasionally kicking out of my way shattered porcelain and pieces of the walls; justified casualties of Liebgott's temperament.
Once I stood before him, much like I had done at the camp whilst in the truck, I crouched to move his rifle, thrown on the floor, away from his feet— this caught his attention; his eyes, covered by his hands, peeped at me as I moved.
"May I?" I questioned, motioning at his bloody knuckles as I stood upright. He only clenched his jaw, averting his gaze from me, and let out a grunt. Coming from him, that meant allowance.
My fingers traveled to his hair, soothingly combing through the locks a couple of times, triggering his eyelids to inevitably flutter at the touch. "I'll go grab a wet towel." I whispered, halfheartedly abandoning him in the messed up room in order to head to the bathroom.
As I opened the faucet, taking a soft towel from the rack by the sink, one thing disturbed my mind; the thought of those people we had left in that hellish place. Anger began to cloud my judgement, the state of the outcasts had been imprinted in the back of my brain.
"Jesus Y/n, put the poor towel down." I turned to the door, where I found Liebgott leaning on the doorframe, still downcast, though he seemed calmer. "You're gonna rip it." He pointed at the piece of fabric in my hands, already soaked in water, tightened due to my unconscious grip which I automatically loosened.
I cleared my throat, wetting the small towel once more before bending my neck to the side, prompting Liebgott to come in, which he did.
"Come." He walked to stand in front of me, sort of leaning on the sink, rather than sitting on the toilet as I would have wanted him to.
Just as I was pulling his hand up to clean the knuckles, he yanked the cloth off my hands, holding up my forearm arm instead.
I sighed, trying to take back the towel, which was in vain, given that he extended his hand as far from me as possible. "Joe—"
"Y/n/n, my hands are just fine," he talked back, scrunching his nose without meeting my gaze. "so will ya let me fix this?"
"Yeah, okay." I indulged him, knowing more often than not, healing others feels easier than healing yourself.
He limited himself to thoroughly clean the little crescent moons left on my arm, taking way more time than needed for them to be alright.
"I'm sorry." He mumbled, turning to unnecessarily soak the cloth again before returning his attention to the light marks. "I didn't know I was—"
"I know."
We stayed in silence for a while, him focused on my bruised arm and me examining the boy. It was only when the silence because unbearable that I decided to speak.
Only that, right when I was about to open my mouth, Joe let out a ragged exhalation, sniffing instead of taking the air back in.
He was crying.
"Lieb?" His motions came to a halt when I placed my free hand on his cheek, stroking it and wiping his tears away. He leaned into my touch, shutting his eyelids and taking in a sharp breath. "Alright," I took the cloth and threw it behind him. "C'mere." I whispered, gently tugging him to me by his wrists instead of his hands to wrap my arms around him.
His own arms mimicked mines, pulling my upper body flush against his, squeezing me as tight as possible. "They looked like... cattle..."
Unable to come up with a proper response, I stayed silent, deciding that giving him the comfort he needed to be vulnerable and a shoulder he could cry on were better than words.
We stayed like that for a hot minute until the tears stopped and his body, which had eased due to the embrace, seemed to go stiff again. I identified the change of demeanor even before he spoke.
"I'm gonna find 'em—" he growled the words in my ear, his chin on top of my shoulder.
Joe was alternating between sheer agression and unbearable grief; best case scenario, he would end up exhausted. Worst case scenario, he would go to prison.
"Joe." I pulled away, just enough to meet his gaze. "You can't do anything stupid." I raised my brows at his gritted teeth, cupping his cheeks.
After an instant of confusion, realization of what I meant flashed through his gaze, and he sneered. "You're kiddin', right?" His hands dropped from my body and traveled to hold onto the sink behind him instead. "They're Nazis."
"Nazis or not, they're most likely P.O.W.s now." I warned in a low voice, folding my arms over my chest. "You'll get court-martialled."
"Everyone's seen the camp." He retorted bitterly. "No one's going to court-martial me for finding the motherfuckers who ran that shit."
My gaze was severe on the man in front of me. "I'm askin' you to stay out of this one."
He looked me up and down before averting his eyes, turning his face to the side. "Don't ask me that."
"Why not?" He muttered under his breath something intelligible before pushing himself off the sink, forcing me to step back.
"You saw what they did to my fucking people, Y/n." The restrained emotions slipping through his growl threatened to go off again at any given moment.
"I know how much you're hurtin' but—"
"NO YOU DON'T! YOU HAVE NO IDEA!" He shouted, pointing an accusative index finger at me.
"YES I FUCKING DO!" I yelled back, the pent up frustration flooding out of my mouth and body language as I pushed him back. "MY MOTHER IS A JEW, ALRIGHT?!" That information seemed to take him aback— rightfully, since it was something I had decided to keep to myself.
I took a deep breath, allowing to put myself together before speaking. "We didn't go through Normandy, Holland, through fuckin' Bastogne— for you to get court-martialled now that we made it into Germany."
Our eyes were locked now, and the tension could be cut with a knife.
"We all want 'em dead, but I will not let you go to prison for killing a fucking Nazi!" I spat, teeth gritted and angry tears welling my orbs at the thought of one of my best friends getting imprisoned for seeking justice.
I had managed to shut his mouth, but not with my words; it was the look in my eyes that left him speechless, I just knew. I had poured a bit too much of my feelings out due to the fear of losing him in the most idiotic way; Joe had caught on it, and was unable to properly register and or react to that information.
"You stay here, I'll go back to the camp— and clean your fuckin' knuckles." Taking his silence as my advantage to escape, I stormed out and started to make my way downstairs.
He didn't follow me right away— probably because he had taken a moment to wash the blood off his hands—, but I soon heard steps behind me, followed by a soft call of my name.
"Y/n, wait." And I did, because no matter how stubborn we both were, if the other asked for something, we would comply. "you didn't tell me."
"I told no one." I confessed, turning around and looking up to face him, as he stood a couple of steps above me on the narrow stairway. "I had enough on my plate, I didn't want that to add up." I, quite ashamed of my behavior, muttered.
"Still." he carefully walked down stand before me.
"Look, doesn't matter, I was just tryna make a point." I explained, shoving my hands on my pockets. "I know what we saw is... Beyond unforgivable, but you can't get yourself into that. We've gone through enough," My voice got softer the further I explained. "I need you to make it home safe, okay?"
"Y/n/n, you're gettin' worked up over nothin'." He responded, making my eyes snap at his, which were already digging on my form. "We both know if you ask me to do somethin', I will." I would have doubted his words, but given the hidden frustration in his tone, I knew he would listen to me this time too. "I'm— guess I'm sorry I took it out on you."
There was an instant of understanding between the two of us. Liebgott was known to get into spats and fights, but he rarely apologized. He had apologized twice in a row, which meant something for him and for me.
"You're a mouthful." I stated in a more lighthearted voice.
"You love that 'bout me."
"Don't go cocky on me, Lieb." He chuckled at my warning, holding my gaze in anticipation.
It was obvious we both wanted to overcome the nonexistent width of the corridor between the two of us; we just didn't know how to save that distance, neither physical nor emotional.
"I better head off." I whispered, a small smile curling up my lips.
"Uh-uh." He caught my hand as I climbed downstairs, intertwining our fingers before giving me a yank strong enough to pull me back up. "If I'm not goin', you're not goin'." He stated in a smug tone.
"They need help." I argued, raising my brows at him, stare focused on his eyes in order to avoid it falling on his lips.
"So do I." He, on the contrary, had no problem to steal glances at my mouth, unconsciously and very slightly bringing me even closer. "Who's gonna stop me from killin' Nazi C.O.s if you're not here, huh?" He joked.
"Joe..." I looked away, down at the main door of the building, only a few steps down from where we stood.
"Y/n, listen." Liebgott's tone dropped the joking demeanor to turn serious, almost concerned in a way. "You got me, I got you. That's how we always do it, isn't it?" I gave him a slow nod, my head casted down until his index finger and thumb held my chin to raise it. "Then, let me keep you here with me." His thumb caressed my jaw. "Can't stand to see your pretty face all dull and pale again." He whispered, referring to our time in Bois Jacques.
Liebgott stopped his motions, freezing for a second, much like I had just done in the bathroom. This time, it was his feelings being a bit too much spilled out through his eyes, his touch, the tone of his words.
It took me aback. Now, don't get me wrong, I was not unaware of the fact that we both had let our friendship transform into something more intimate; I knew Liebgott's feelings for me were... Well, not entirely platonic, if you may —I just didn't know the magnitude of them until that very moment.
He regretted showing me, just like I had regretted showing him. "Just—" he began, dropping my hand and retreating his hold on my chin to scratch the back of his neck instead. "Feel like it's better for you to sit this one out." He cleared his throat, eyes fixed on our shoes. "Y'know, 'cause you—" He felt cornered now, but I didn't step away. "Your mother—"
"Joe," my hand traveled all the way up from his wrist to his bicep, dragging my fingertips over his shirt. "You're gettin' worked up over nothin'." I repeated the words he had spoken just a couple of minutes ago, saving the short distance between us while he laid his hands on my waist. "We both know if you ask me to do something," my free hand found his cheekbone, leaving my ghostlike touch over it because letting it fall on his chest, feeling his heart pounding as much as mine did. "I will."
"That so?" I shook my head affirmatively. "Well then," He swallowed, giving my sides a squeeze before bringing me flush against him in a much less innocent way than he had done previously in the bathroom. "Kiss me." He requested, bumping his nose against mine.
And I complied.
His lips felt like water in the dessert; his embrace felt like a warm blanket in Belgium's freezing winter. For a moment, I forgot about the camp; I forgot about Bastogne, about Haguenau, about Holland and Normandy.
I forgot we were at war, because at that moment, in that rickety staircase in Germany, I was at peace, and he was too, and that was the sweetest feeling we could have wished for.
Ok, something fun, maybe a brawl in there over the lady - 9 & B & liebgott
Oo I lovveee this combo!! & this was the perfect one-shot for me to throw in some zaddy Welsh 😏
“What the hell’s he doing?” Joe Liebgott slammed his glass down in frustration.
“Hey, Lieb, relax,” Moe Alley said.
Liebgott shook his head then quickly picked his glass back up for another drink. He knew he shouldn’t be so upset, but his blood was boiling. This idiot was being so disrespectful. Liebgott knew he should probably look away, but his eyes were glued on the I company soldier who had walked in with Grace but whose hands were all over some other dame.
Joe had his own fair share of problems with Grace. Sure, maybe he wasn’t one to talk. But when he had been with her, she was all he could see. She deserved more than a guy who hardly noticed her.
Liebgott scanned the room to see if Grace was noticing what he was. He hoped she saw how foolish this guy was acting when she wasn’t around. But the second he spotted her, all the anger melted away from Liebgott's heart.
She wore her favorite blue dress the twirled at the bottom when she danced. It was the same one she had been wearing when they had first met. Liebgott felt a pang in his heart at the thought of her getting dressed up just to go out with a guy who hardly gave her a second look.
She was so beautiful and effortlessly elegant. Grace’s hair shone under the band lights as Skinny Sisk spun her around on the dance floor. She laughed as she whirled in and out of his arms in time to the music. At one point, Liebgott had been jealous of that relationship; until he realized she and Skinny were childhood friends, but not before he picked a fight over it. He had a bad habit of starting fights over nothing.
Liebgott watched as the song ended and Skinny released Grace back into the crowd. His dark eyes tracked her through the room with a sensation of dread. He knew what she would inevitably find when she found her date; a drifting eye and a dangerously placed hand.
Liebgott forced himself to look away. He didn’t want to see her get hurt.
“Anyone need another drink?” Liebgott barely waited for his friends to respond before he turned to the bar. “Three beers,” he held up his fingers to the bartender. “And uh, actually get me a shot of whiskey too will ya,” he added.
Liebgott winced as he threw back the foul liquid. He paid, collected the beers and returned to the cocktail table where his friends stood chatting and generally enjoying themselves.
“Thanks,” Tipper took a sip from the new drink. Liebgott tried to jump in on their conversation but he was far too distracted. It took all of his concentration to not look over at Grace and her soldier. He focused his gaze on a knot in the wood of the table and took a sip of his drink. He began to feel the whiskey's heat enter his blood stream. Alley was saying something about one of their shooting exercises at the range the other day but Liebgott couldn't bring himself to pa attention. Finally, he couldn’t bear it any longer, the temptation was too great. He looked up and saw Grace animatedly gesturing at the soldier in anger. Liebgott couldn’t make out what they were saying.
“What d’ya think is going on over there?” Liebgott asked no one in particular. He watched as the soldier said something that made Grace cross her arms. After a beat, she began speaking angrily again and the soldier waved his hand dismissively at her.
“You gonna go do something about that?” Liebgott gestured to Grace as Skinny approached their table.
Skinny blew out his cheeks and exhaled, “oh uh, you know Grace, she can handle herself.”
Liebgott shook his head. He felt helpless just standing there watching what was clearly an unfair argument. “We gotta go say something.”
“Lieb, give it a rest,” Alley said from beside him.
“She’s none of your business anymore,” Tipper added.
His friends had lost patience with him the last couple of weeks. He and Grace had broken up for the third time, thanks to him and his temper of course, and everyone was done hearing about it. Liebgott knew he had fucked up, again. But no one knew Grace like he did. No one could appreciate her like he did. He would have her back in a heartbeat if she ever gave him the chance.
Liebgott’s lip curled up in disgust as he watched the soldier lean in to kiss her. Grace pushed him back forcefully with an angry look. The grabbed her arm forcefully and that was the last straw for Liebgott.
“That’s it, I’m going over there.”
“Joe! No!” Tipper and Alley grabbed for Liebgott but he was already gone.
Liebgott sidled up to the soldier, “everything okay here?”
“Joe,” Grace said in a warning tone. Liebgott glanced down and saw the desperation in her glassy eyes.
“Who're you?” the soldier demanded.
“Who are you?” Liebgott shot back, “messin’ with my friend?”
“Look buddy,” the soldier sneered, “I’m not in the mood, get out of here.”
“No,” Liebgott took a threatening step towards the man, “I wanna know what you’re saying to Grace here.”
“Step back,” the soldier gave Liebgott a little shove, “have some manners in front of the lady.”
“Oh man,” Tipper said from where he, Alley and Sisk stood watching it all go down.
“Okay,” Sisk said.
“Time to go,” Alley and the others jumped towards Liebgott in anticipation of what was about to go down.
Liebgott barked out a humorless laugh, “Ha, me? Have some manners? What about you buddy! Touchin' a woman like that!” And he lunged at the guy.
Their area of the bar exploded with action.
“Joe!” Grace’s high pitch voice sounded over the noise of men struggling. At first, the soldiers' respective friends tried to pull them apart until a rogue fist collided with Alley’s jaw and then he was swinging too. Suddenly, soldiers from I and E company were hopping in to defend their buddies who got pulled into the fight. Until finally a voice roared over the crowd, “break it the fuck up!” Harry Welsh’s voice startled the men enough that they lost all of their momentum. Bull Randleman and Bill Guarnere began pulling people off of each other.
“Hey, hey!” Guarnere shouted at a foolish I-company soldier who stepped towards Joe Toye again. Welsh shot the private a freezing glare.
“Get the hell out of here, Joe,” Welsh commanded.
“But lieutenant-,” Liebgott protested. But the lean Irishman was stronger than he appeared. He grabbed Liebgott by the scruff of the neck and dragged him towards the exit. “Go cool off.” Welsh threw him out into the chilly night air.
Liebgott groaned in frustration and kicked the side of the building as the door slammed behind him.
“Watch it,” some guy smoking a cigarette frowned at him. The guy flicked his cigarette to the ground and with a disgruntled look directed at Liebgott led the woman he was with back inside.
Liebgott paced in circles, his blood pumping in his ears. He pulled a cigarette out of his shirt pocket and lit it. After a few deep inhales he finally began to calm down. His heart rate slowed as he focused on the burning tip of the cigarette that glowed orange in the darkness.
The bar entrance opened behind him. Briefly, the night was filled with the sounds of revelry before the door closed again.
“Joe,” Grace’s voice made him turn. She stood with her arms crossed, her head tilted in disapproval.
“What?” Liebgott snapped, “quit lookin’ at me like that,” he spat on the ground. Blood from his busted lip replaced the taste of tobacco in his mouth with iron.
“That was pretty embarrassing for you,” Grace said with a hint of humor.
Liebgott scowled at her. She smiled crookedly back at him, unintimidated. Liebgott shook his head. He tried to maintain his offense but faced with her smile, he quickly relented. He chuckled and kicked at the ground, “yeah, maybe not my best moment.”
She walked over to him and plucked the cigarette from his fingers. He watched as she brought the cigarette up to her perfect red lips and took a long drag. She propped an elbow on her hip, letting her wrist dangle gracefully as the smoke from the burning paper spiraled up and into the dark. “What got into you?” she asked.
Liebgott sighed, “I just, I couldn’t stand watching him flirt with another dame when you were right there.”
Grace bit her lip. Liebgott sniffed, “you deserve someone who thinks you’re the only girl worth lookin’ at,” he shrugged.
“Joe,” she said in a low voice. His cigarette had nearly burnt out in her hand.
“I know, I know,” he mumbled. They had been here before; this familiar place that teetered between so much potential goodness and the mess that had just occurred. Somehow it never seemed to work out between them and not for lack of effort.
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” she whispered.
“Nothing,” he muttered. But his eyes said something else and his hand slipped onto her hip.
“Joe,” her eyelids hung heavy and she licked her lips. The air grew heavy between them and Liebgott felt her step closer to him.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispered. She didn’t. And so he pulled her into him and she tangled her hands in his hair just like she always did. Her lips were soft and warm and exactly how he remembered them. With his arms wrapped around her, Liebgott thought for the thousandth time, that he had to find a way to make her his forever.
If there’s one thing Millie knows, it’s that nothing lasts forever. And in times of war, nothing lasts. Nothing can escape War’s grasp. The air in the plane seems nonexistent. A flying tomb. That’s what this is.
No one dares to speak. Silence weighs on their shoulders; the heaviness threatening to crush them. We’ll make it through. What we’re doing is right. We’re going to survive. They’ve been saying them for weeks, living and breathing them as they moved closer to tonight.
Millie taps her foot against the floor, nerves starting to fray. Even after years of fighting, she still can’t help the nagging fear that plagues her. “Are you ready for this?” she whispers.
Bernadette shakes her head, lets out a harsh laugh. “Not at all. But it’ll work.” Her voice wavers just the slightest and she clears her throat. “It has to work.” Millie nods at her words, keeps her gaze focused straight ahead. It’s easier that way.
Everyone rises to their feet, starts to line up.
It’s time to jump.
Millie stands, checks Bernadette’s equipment. The light turns green and then it’s time. Peering out over the edge, she can see the massive blanket of snow that seems to white out every speck of life. It looks fresh. No one’s had time to taint it with blood or dirt or grime.
Bernadette jumps and then it’s her turn. She doesn’t hesitate. Hesitation gets a person killed during war. The bitter air howls around her as she floats towards the earth. It’s peaceful for a few moments.
Then the world seems to come alive in an instant. German artillery whizzes past. Her heart pounds in her chest. A burst of flames catches her eye and she turns to see a tree explode. Screams fill the air and are cut off in the same breath. No no no. NO.
This can’t be happening. Not again. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. She grasps her necklace, murmurs softly to herself. Adonai, make me brave for life: oh, braver than this. Let me straighten after pain, as a tree straightens after the rain, shining and lovely again. Adonai, make me brave for life: much braver than this. As the blown grass lifts, let me rise from sorrow with quiet eyes, knowing thy way is wise. Adonai, make me brave, life brings such blinding things. Help me to keep my sight; help me to see aright that out of doubt comes light.
She hits the ground moments later with a thud. Millie groans, gasps for air. She looks around frantically but doesn’t spot Bernadette or the others. Damn it. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. “Who the hell are you?” She doesn’t answer, instead focuses on her breathing. “Hey! I said, who the hell are you?”
Millie glances up to find a dark-eyed soldier standing in front of her. Judging by the uniform and air of cockiness, she’s landed behind American lines. “No one special.” She shrugs and takes her helmet off, starts to work her hair into a loose braid. “Clearly I missed my drop zone. But this will do.” Millie hops into one of the foxholes, starts to examine herself, stretching limbs and fingers, trying to move blood back into them.
“You’re a dame?” she turns at the voice next to her. A boy with ginger hair and blue eyes stares back at her, surprise and shock playing across his expression.
Millie rolls her eyes and laughs. “Yes, I’m a woman.” She glances up at the soldier who found her, laughs harshly.
She can feel the soldier staring at her, sure he’s trying to figure her out. “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere. You don’t need to stare.”
“I’m not staring,” he scoffs. “Heffron might be, though.”
She laughs, smirk tugging at her lips. “Whatever you say.” Millie reaches for her helmet, puts it back atop her head. “Do you have an aid station around? I have some extra supplies.”
“There’s one in town. And our medics could use some supplies, too.” Millie nods at Heffron’s words or she assumes it’s Heffron, before walking off, eyes flitting around in search of the familiar red cross armband.
Joe sits in the CP, arms crossed over his chest. Fuckin’ Germans. They don’t know when to quit. When The door swings open and Bill bursts inside. “Hey, did ya hear what happened?” He doesn’t answer but that doesn’t stop Bill from rambling on. “Some dame’s sitting in Babe’s foxhole.”
At this, Joe looks up. “Yeah, right.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “There’s no dames around for miles.”
“I’m not kidding. Apparently, she just fell from the sky.” Bill says, waving his hands around exaggeratedly.
“A woman falling from the sky? Sounds like a dream come true right now,” Nixon interjects. Bill laughs in agreement and Joe grins.
Footsteps approach and Winters walks in. He waves Nixon off, “Do we know what side she’s on? Is she a spy for the Germans?”
“I don’t know, sir.” Bill shrugs. “She asked if there was an aid station and headed that way.”
Winters nods, “Well, if you see her again, escort her here.”
“I’ll find her, sir.” Before anyone can speak, Joe slips outside into the bitter cold. It’s quiet now. For now. The Germans are still out there, though. Just waiting for the moment we let our guard down.
But for now, he’ll bask in the brief silence, let it wash over him. “Looking for the dame?” Babe’s words interrupt his thoughts and Joe laughs.
“Winters wants to speak with her. Y’know, in case she’s a spy or something.” A smirk tugs at his lips as he speaks. Babe’s eyes go wide at his words and Joe rolls his eyes. “Relax. I doubt she’s a spy.” Even as he says the words though, he’s not entirely sure he believes his words.
Anyone could be a spy. “How would you know? You haven’t met her!” Babe’s voice rises with each word, worry lacing his words.
“Not yet.”
Snow crunches underfoot and they both turn at the sound. “You know, it’s considered rude to talk about people behind their backs.”
Joe’s mouth forms a little O at the words, eyes going wide. Silence hangs over them and he looks to Babe to the woman in front of him and back again. Finally he speaks, grin slowly spreading across his face. “So you’re the dame I’ve heard so much about.”
Hey Emma❤️ me again! You know how much I love your fic, so I was wondering if I can request the prompt "you really think I'm beautiful?" with Lieb? Thank you so much❤️
Since You Asked So Nicely
Lieb offers to give you a haircut. Unintentional admissions and confused feelings ensue.
A/N: Francy my dearest you have no idea how excited I was about this in my inbox because you know how much I loooveeee my baby Lieb. And I can confirm that after writing this I am impossibly even more in love with him. Hope you enjoy it and my ask box is open for requests if anyone wants to send any in!
"Will ya just sit down for a haircut? Ya look like a rat died on your head or somethin'."
You rolled your eyes and punched him in the arm, but you agreed you did really need a proper haircut and well, since he was offering how could you refuse. You sat down in front of him with a sigh, watching as be propped a mirror up in front of you and fished a scissors and a comb from his pocket.
"Where the hell did you find a mirror in this place?" You asked, eyebrow raised in curiosity.
"I'll have you know I'm quite resourceful when I need to be," he proclaimed smugly as he started running the comb through your hair. Your hair had gotten awfully knotty, and you winced everytime he caught a knot on the comb.
"Yeah, a real professional aren't ya? Ow jeez, you tryna pull my scalp off back there or what?" You screeched when he pulled particularly hard on a large knot and glared at him in the mirror. He rolled his eyes and continued combing, tutting everytime you winced. Eventually he got all of the knots out, and though you hated to admit it, it was quite relaxing when he ran the comb through your tangle-free hair a few times. Without saying a word he swapped the comb for a scissors.
"Ain't you gonna ask me how much I want cut off?" You asked incredulously. He paused just before the next cut and met your eyes in the mirror.
"I'll cut it like it used to be back in Toccoa. Trust me, that's what you want." Without waiting for a response he returned to his work and chopped off the next bit. You didn't say anything for awhile, not wanting to distract him in case he accidentally scalped you. You wondered why he was so insistent on cutting it up like you used to have it way back then. Sure, you'd loved it that way, you were just surprised he had taken notice of it considering he'd spent most of his time back then picking on you.
"So," you started, picking at your nails distractedly, "you wouldn't happen to know anything about Luz's missing Hershey bars would you?"
"Don't know what you're talking about," he responded, not missing a beat, but the mischievous twinkle in his eye and the smirk on his lips gave the game away.
"Oh I see," you teased, "so if I casually decided to look under your mattress I wouldn't find a stash of chocolate under it?"
"Listen Twiggy, all you'll find under my mattress is mothballs."
You huffed at the nickname, and if he hadn't been in the middle of cutting your hair you would have smacked him in the arm. He'd insisted on calling you twiggy ever since Toccoa. You'd proven time and time again that you weren't weak and you wouldn't snap under the pressure, but he'd still stuck with the stupid nickname because he knew it got on your nerves.
Finally he dropped the scissors and ran the comb through your hair once more. He looked at you in the mirror then, and your eyebrows furrowed at the sudden shift in his expression. He had this weird, faraway look on his face, like as if he'd been dazed. Before you could question him he ran his fingers through your hair, his nails scraping against your scalp and making you shiver slightly.
"There," he said distractedly, his voice soft and fond, "back to your old, beautiful self."
You froze, and you felt him stiffen behind you, his eyes widening slightly. He wouldn't meet your eyes in the mirror. In fact, he looked like a cornered animal. He must be joking though. There is no way in hell he actually meant that. You felt your throat dry up, and you had to swallow roughly before you tried to speak.
"Hell Lieb, you ain't that good with a scissors, don't get ahead of yourself."
You regretted saying that the second you saw his face close off and his eyes harden. He looked away and his jaw stiffened, his defences coming back up with a vengeance against his moment of vulnerability. Your breath hitched. He looked hurt.
"Yeah, whatever," he snapped, pocketing his stuff and stepping back, "don't bother coming to me next time you look like you've been mauled by a rat." He stormed off without another word and you were left staring after him.
You were unsure what to make of the whole thing. You hadn't started off on the best footing with each other. In fact, you'd spent most of your time before D-Day going out of your way to pick fights with each other. You didn't know what it was, but something about him just got under your skin. It was only once you'd gotten through Caranten that you'd started to mellow towards each other and become friends. You still picked on each other, but it was all in good nature from then on, and you never tried to hurt each other.
But he had been hurt. You could tell immediately by how his face had stiffened up that you'd hurt him, even though you hadn't meant to. You'd thought he was joking like he always did, because how could he be serious? Your heart started to race at the thought and you did your best to ignore it, like you often did. You absolutely refused to admit to yourself that you had any sort of interest in Lieb besides being friends. Even the thought of it was completely ridiculous, laughable even when you thought about it. He'd probably been hurt that you'd mocked his skill. He should have known you were just kidding around though, but he was your friend and you had to go and apologise all the same.
You wandered around the building in search of him. Eventually you found him on his own, sitting on his bunk and munching on a Hershey bar. He hadn't seen you, and you hesitated for a moment before going in. He seemed tense, his eyebrows furrowed as he stared off into the wall opposite him.
"I knew you nicked those Hershey bars," you said lightly as you walked into the room and hopped up beside him on the bunk. He paused eating his bar for a second, but he still refused to look over at you. Great, he was going to make this hard in you.
"Look Lieb," you started, coughing awkwardly, "I'm sorry for what I said back there. You're damn good with a scissors, I was just kidding around."
"Don't sweat Y/N, it doesn't matter. I ain't mad," he said, bobbing his head and fiddling with the chocolate wrapper on his lap. You'd thought that would be the end of it and you could both go back to normal, but you could tell there was still some awkwardness lingering between the two of you. You thought maybe you should go and leave him alone for awhile. You weren't sure what to say, so you hopped off the bunk and made for the door.
You paused at the door to glance back at him, and found him looking back at you, that soft look on his face again, that same one he'd had when he'd looked at you in the mirror. His eyebrows were furrowed and his eyes had an almost sad look in them. He looked down quickly when you turned around, and you couldn't ignore the weird feeling you got in your gut then. Something still wasn't right. You stepped back over to his bunk and leaned your elbows on it. You weren't sure what possessed you to ask, but you had to know.
"Do you really think I'm beautiful?" You asked quietly. You felt his legs tense on the bed beside you, but he lifted his chin defiantly.
"Yeah, what of it?" He snapped defensively, "It was just a passing comment no need to make a big deal out of it."
You were frozen still with surprise. You hadn't expected him to admit it because you honestly hadn't thought he was being serious. But he was. He was glaring at you defiantly but under all that bravado you could see a vulnerability peaking through. Your heart was hammering in your chest and your head was spinning.
"But," you started incredulously, "you call me Twiggy. You told me I made Perco look like a pro wrestler. You told me I was so scrawny that Curahee the puppy could knock me down with one paw. How am I supposed to believe that you think I'm beautiful then huh?"
Lieb had scoffed and jumped down from the bunk as you continued on your rant, and now he was standing right in front of you.
"Dammit Y/N," he sighed, "all those things, they're just teasin', like pullin' pigtails on the playground ya'know?" He ran a hand over the back of his neck before continuing. "And anyway, all of those things were just cause you were scrawny, I never said anythin' bout your looks."
You looked up at him blankly, completely dumbstruck. "So," you mumbled, "you do think I'm beautiful then?"
"Jeez Y/N, you really wanna push my buttons don't you?" He groaned. He placed his hands on your shoulders and leaned down so you were at eyelevel. "Fine, yes Y/N I think you're a looker. The best damn looker there is. Ya happy now?"
You didn't know what to say, it was all a complete overload. His face was so close to yours you could feel his breath tickling your cheeks. His dark eyes bore into yours intely and you felt like you were drowning in them. You were certain he could hear your heart hammering in your chest.
"Well, say something dammit. Does now really have to be the first time in your life you've got nothing smart to say," he mumbled, eyes flickering over your face anxiously.
"I just...," you stuttered, "I never thought you'd ever actually....ya'know..."
He didn't let you finish. He grabbed your chin gently between his thumb and forefinger and kissed you. It was tentative at first, but when you fisted your hand in his shirt he grew more enthusiastic, his tongue flicking out to tease your lips open. You tilted your head and leaned in further, using your fisted hands on his shirt to pull him impossibly closer. Eventually you had to pull back for air, noses brushing as you breathed harshly.
"Why didn't you ever say anything?" You asked quietly. He bit his lip and groaned, shaking his head and huffing out a laugh.
"I'm gonna be honest, I thought you had a thing for Luz so I obviously wasn't gonna say anythin' was I? Didn't wanna look like a damn fool."
You snorted at that, before bursting out into full blown laughter. You noticed his cheeks went a little red, which only made you laugh harder.
"Aw shuddup, will ya? It ain't that funny," He huffed, resting his hands on your waist and squeezing gently. You eventually managed to calm down your wheezing, though a few chuckles still bubbled up.
"Why don't you make me?" You smirked, looking up at him through your eyelashes, laughter still twinkling in your eyes.
He grinned, backing you up against the wall beside the door and leaning in, his lips barely brushing against yours.
HATE band of brothers because it’s like... you watch currahee because you love lewis nixon and you want to see the boys happy, and then you’ve just GOTTA watch day of days because i mean, they trained for this! so by that point you might as well watch carentan and THEN you have to do replacements because you want to see your boy babe heffron, and then you’re like “but what about that scene where nix almost gets shot?!” so crossroads it is and by then you’re at bastogne, and you can’t just NOT WATCH bastogne, and then the breaking point is your (my) favorite episode and you miss speirs so you watch the breaking point, and by now you’re missing webster & liebgott’s combined Dumbass Bitch Energy, so you inevitably watch the last patrol, and then of course why we fight is a fucking masterpiece so you can’t leave that out. so then you’re at points and it’s like, “well, we’ve made it this far. might as well.” and then you think, “huh, i kind of miss currahee.”
short summary: joe's assigned to search for the perfect house for easy's hq in the new town they'll soon arrive to on their way through germany and finds one with a girl in there who's like the protagonist of one of the comics he's read - courageous, fearless, heroic.
words: 2.5K
a/n: first of all, sorry for disappearing, exam season has started at my uni and i've been hella busy these past weeks (and gonna be for the following few as well, u g h ).
anyway this fic came around from a conversation i had with the lovely @now-im-a-belieber when i was telling her about an idea i had and she technically came up with the base of this. thank you, Pearl, i love you xx (i hope i did justice to your idea)
oh and let's just say i have no clue if this would have been possible, at least the exact way i wrote it.
Four loud bangs sound against her front door right as she starts washing the dishes after they finished lunch. With her eyes widening in surprise she rushes back into the room, telling the family of three to hide as she's drying her hands in her apron before making her way to the door.
After taking a deep breath she grabs the handle and opens it. The next thing she knows is being pushed to the side as a figure storms in past her without a word. A gasp leaves her lungs as her back lightly collides with the wall, head turning to watch as the soldier barges in the house.
What is going on? Has someone found out about them?
With a hand reaching behind her back she pushes herself off the wall and hurries behind the man. Trying hard to sound completely calm and innocent she asks him what is going on, but he only barks back something almost inaudible - only a few German words reach her ears.
The soldier is moving with such speed that she hasn't got a single chance to get a better look at his uniform as he's entering every room one by one. Who is he? Worry swiftly floods her veins - more importantly, what is he looking for?
She can only pray the family has had enough time to properly hide.
As he reaches that door, she holds her breath back, repeating her little prayer like a mantra inside her head. The man comes to a sudden halt just as he steps through the doorframe and in an instant fear makes her blood turn freezing cold. She carefully moves closer to glance inside next to his body, not knowing what to expect.
And what she sees makes everything else in her mind disappear - just the thoughts of all hell breaking loose any time now move around inside.
Her best friend crouches on the other side of the room, clearly frozen mid-movement as her body is still half out of the hiding spot, eyes wide as she stares at the soldier, not a single muscle moving. It's like everyone's got frozen in time, none of the three people makes a move.
Liebgott's mind slow to catch up to what he sees - he didn't expect to see that as he rushed through the house. He's only been trying to decide whether it's a good place for Easy's HQ, as he has been ordered to do when Winters sent him ahead of the company.
His eyes then start moving around the room, trying hard to find a good reason as to why that girl is half inside the wall. A book is laying on the table next to the door, open at around the middle. With one glance at the pages he recognises the letters of the hebrew alphabet, and suddenly it all makes sense.
She's a Jew.
His breath hitches in his throat as he struggles to comprehend this new information, and just in that very moment the silence is broken by a voice. And it's not coming from either of the two girls in the room - more like it's coming from inside the wall.
One simple sentence, ending with a Yiddish term of endearment - one he can perfectly understand. It came from a woman, asking the girl crouching facing him from across the room why she's stopped moving.
There are more Jews in there.
His lungs fill with a sharp breath he's taken and he spins around, staring straight at the girl who opened the front door only minutes prior. The question must be clear in his eyes as she starts stammering in defense, her voice audibly shaking.
Joe shakes his head, stopping her mid-sentence. "No, they're Jews, I can see it," he says in perfect German, and the already pale girl suddenly seems even whiter.
He swiftly grabs her arm and pulls her in the direction he remembers finding the dining room in, trying to find a chair for her to sit down on, as she's visibly close to fainting - though the reason behind it he can't find.
(y/n) flinches with utter fear, weakly trying to resist being pulled away - he most probably is now taking her away to kill her, right? He's a German soldier, that's what his job is. But no matter how hard she tries to wiggle away, his grip is too tight around her arm and she can't do a thing.
Just when they arrive to the dining room and he kind of pushes her into one of the chairs is when Joe realises that she's scared of him - she immediately pushes the chair further away from him as soon as he lets go of her. So that's why she's shaking so bad.
"No, wait, don't be scared," he rushes to say. "I'm a Jew too."
This finally breaks the scaredness - instead her eyes fill with utter confusion. Her forehead wrinkles as she tries to make sense of what he's saying. How can a German soldier be Jewish? It makes absolutely no sense.
With a sudden wave of suspicion she moves her glance down to his uniform, examining every detail she can lay her eyes upon.
Is he not German?!
Suddenly she can see differences - details about his uniform that she's never seen on a German soldier before, and she's seen her fair share of those in the past years.
But if he's not German, who is he and what is going on?
She takes a still shaky breath and looks back up into his eyes - seeing the waiting expression on his face as he's standing there in patient silence for her to say something.
"Are you-" Her voice cracks mid-sentence. It's not good. She clears her throat and tries again. "Are you German?"
All of a sudden he bursts out laughing - so loud, and somehow so dark that her eyes widen once again. She just can't decide if it's from fear again, or only surprise.
A minute or so goes by with nothing but Joe laughing - this must be one of the most hilarious things he's heard in the past couple years. That he is a German.
Then his laughter finally quietens down to slight chuckling and he speaks up once more to confirm the truth. "No, of course not," he shakes his head in amusement. One look in her eyes tells him that somehow she still has no clue about his nationality, so he opens his lips again to give an answer to her question in advance. "I'm American. Don't worry, you're not in trouble for that," Joe points back in the direction of the room with the hiding spot above his shoulder.
A loud sigh escapes her lungs, her shoulder visibly falling a bit as she slumps more into the chair. It feels like years worth of stress and nervousness have just come to an end - it's truly like an enormous stone has rolled down from her chest and shoulders. She somehow feels free again for the first time in years.
Relief completely replaces the worry and fear in her veins as all other thoughts leave her mind. She's not gonna die. At least not today.
"They're Jewish," the soldier speaks again - and it's not a question. More like a statement.
(y/n) nods, unable to say a word as she's still overwhelmed with her new feelings.
"You're hiding them?"
She just raises an eyebrow, and Joe mentally slaps himself - what a stupid question. He could've might as well just asked her the colour of the wall.
"Since when you've been hiding them?" He corrects his question.
"Ever since the whole thing has started," she answers, her voice so quiet it almost disappears in the air between them.
"Wow," Liebgott breathes out before he can stop himself. He stares at the girl in disbelief. She looks so innocent and young - she's probably one or two years younger than him. How could she pull off something such a thing? Such a dangerous and pretty reckless thing?
"Esther is my best friend, she's been ever since we were little kids, they all are like a second family to me, I've spent most of my days with them," (y/n) explains, the relief causing her to ramble and Joe - for about the first time in his life has to struggle to keep up with the German words that come flying out past her lips. "I just had to help them, you know. I couldn't just leave them here."
"Where's your own family?"
"My parents left to France to be further away from the chaos, and my brother joined the Luftwaffe, and since then I haven't heard from none of them."
"Why didn't you leave with your parents as well?" The young soldier keeps asking, moving closer to the table and sitting down on a chair on the opposite side, facing her. Pushing his M1's strap down his shoulder he places the weapon on the table, pushing it only a little further in order to calm the girl more. He knows he probably shouldn't do this - and keep Winters waiting, but he's too curious to stop himself, he has to hear the rest of her story.
"I love this town, I was born and raised here," she shrugs as if it's obvious. "But more importantly, I didn't want to leave and let innocent people like my best friend's family suffer. I wanted to stay and fight back as good as I could."
Joe subconsciously mumbles under his breath before he can stop himself - words that praise her absolute bravery, words that give away his true feelings he suddenly feels towards her - then he has to move his gaze away from her, fearing that she sees the embarrassment in his eyes. He tries hard to think of another question while also trying hard to forget the look of the half-smiling expression that took over her face just a moment before - it does nothing good for his heart.
"Did you make that hidden room yourself?" He asks in the end, thinking back to what he saw in the room.
"Oh," she giggles - and it's the prettiest sound he's heard in a very long time. "No, my father made it when me and my brother were young and often played hide and seek. I just improved it a little so they can fit in more comfortably."
Liebgott hums, not knowing how to tell her - or if he should even tell her in the first place - how absolutely super impressed she left him with every single thing she's told him and what he's seen. It's one of the craziest things he has ever heard, and he had a fair share of unbelievable stories told to him in his life. He simply couldn't even imagine how on Earth this girl could manage to do this - and not get caught. Throughout the whole war.
In that very moment he swiftly decides that he'll go and find another house for the HQ, and that he'll somehow get back to this particular one, no matter what it takes. He wants to get to know her better. He has to get to know her better.
She's the most incredible woman he's ever heard of, read about or met. She's a woman who fits in the stories of the comics he's been reading his whole life - as the protagonist, the hero. He can't leave this town without hearing more about her, seeing her face more. That would be the biggest regret fo his whole life, he can already tell.
But for now, he has to leave. It wouldn't be a good idea to keep his officers waiting even longer.
He stands up, fingers reaching out to grab his M1 before looking back into her eyes. Damn, he doesn't even know her name.
"I have to head back to my company, but I'll come back later, if that's okay with you."
Her eyes are already on his, seemingly staring straight into his soul with that intensity that lays in her (y/e/c) orbs. The girl then rises to her feet - still never breaking the eye contact.
Thoughts race inside her head, and it's like an angel and a demon are sitting on each of her shoulders, one telling her to say no whilst the other trying to convince her to say yes.
What if he only wants to use her? What if he only wants to sleep with her? Maybe force her to do so, threatening her with his knowledge of the Jewish family. He might not even be who and what he says he is. How could she know?
But on the other hand, there is this feeling she has about him. A feeling that tells her that nothing she previously thought will happen. She doesn't know what it is, but it's there, right in her chest, and she can't fight it. He seems genuinely curious and impressed, and honest. And she feels a pull towards him. She wants to see him again.
In the end, the devil on her shoulder wins, and she simply nods - right before she could change her mind.
"I'm Joe," the young soldier moves around the table, one hand held out towards her.
A glance cast down and right back up to his face she takes his hand and gives it a shake, holding onto it tightly, as if only to let him know how strong she actually is.
It probably works, 'cause he raises an eyebrow, slightly tilts his head and the corners of his lips curve up into the smallest smirk she's ever seen - but it's there.
"(y/n)," she eventually answers with her own introduction.
A few seconds pass and neither has let go of the other's hand, not yet. They just stand there, staring into each other's eyes, only the small noises of them breathin breaking the silence.
Then Liebgott blinks, clears his throat, pulls his hand out from her grip and instinctively places his fingers upon his weapon hanging from his shoulder whilst nodding towards her as a gesture of saying goodbye without words.
She watches as he turns around and walks out from the room, and after a tiny, happy sigh she follows the sound of his steps.
Just as he opens the front door and moves through it is when she arrives to the hall. Joe glances back over his shoulder for one last time, offering her a small smile, then looks back ahead of him and continues his walk as if nothing has happened. None of the past dozen of minutes.
(y/n) leans against the doorframe and watches him right until he disappears in the distance with a dreamy look in her eyes.
She can't wait until he comes back again.
.::the end::.
.
(might write a part two if i'll have time and you'd like to read it)
anyone who has spent five seconds around me ever:yes, you love joe liebgott, we know, you love joe liebgott so much, he’s the light of your life, you love him so much, you just love joe liebgott, we KNOW , you love joe liebgott you fucking love joe liebgott ok we know, we get it, YOU LOVE JOE LIEBGOTT. WE GET IT.
OK genuinely curious, who’s everyone’s top five fave guys?! Obv we love them all but I’m always so curious who everyone’s top 5 are bc I feel like it reveals a lot about their personalities. Mine are:
1. Joe Liebgott
2. Don Malarkey
3. Skip Muck
4. George Luz
5. John Martin
(Just realised writing that out that my faves are a sandwich of fun with some grumpy/sassy bread)
germansingergirl
2087
origamiaround
blakekathryn
tankhall
