In the dim haze of a crowded bar somewhere in Europe, two soldiers from different worlds find themselves drawn to one another. She’s quiet and careful. He’s bold and charming. But in a war-torn moment suspended in time, a single spark threatens to change everything.
Pairing: Babe Heffron x Reader
Word Count: ~3,300
Genre: Fluff with a tinge of spice and flirtation
Setting: A crowded bar in Europe, early 1945
Note || My boy Babe isn’t holding back here—and honestly, can you blame him? Surrounded by war, cold, and chaos, he’s got no time to waste. With a little help from our resident troublemaker Wild Bill.
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The bar was loud, warm with laughter and the clink of glasses, bodies packed shoulder to shoulder in celebration. It smelled like cheap beer and the kind of sweat earned from surviving one more day. Somewhere in some nameless town in Europe, war had taken a night off.
Babe Heffron sat at a table with a few of his Easy Company boys—Guarnere was already halfway to drunk, and Luz was making some joke that had Roe grinning in a way he rarely did. Babe leaned back in his chair, half-listening. His sleeves were rolled up, red hair tousled from running a hand through it too many times. He liked nights like these—when they could pretend, just a little, that they were young men instead of soldiers.
But lately, even pretending took more work.
He'd spent the months after Eindhoven just trying to feel normal again. Recovery, they called it—like there was a fix for the kind of shit he’d seen. Like you could patch up a soul with bandages and bourbon. Half the time he’d just sat in silence, chain-smoking, his fingers twitching for a weapon that wasn’t there. The rest of the time, he thought about Philly. About home. About what it would feel like to walk down a street without expecting a shell to fall. About what kind of man he’d be if he weren’t sitting in another European bar soaked in cheap booze and survivor’s guilt.
The war had aged him. Fast. But he still wasn’t used to it. Twenty-one and already so fucking tired.
And then she walked in. Small. Quiet. Sharp eyes scanning the room like she regretted stepping foot in it already. She moved like she didn’t want to be seen, but Babe saw her anyway—really saw her.
She was surrounded by the taller men around her, all from another unit, judging by the way they talked and didn’t acknowledge anyone from Easy. She barely came up to one’s shoulder, swallowed by them all as they made their way to the bar.
She walked just slightly behind them, shoulders tense, head down—but her eyes kept flicking up, watchful, as if she didn’t trust the room. And maybe she shouldn’t. She was the only woman here.
Babe sat forward, straightening instinctively. His drink forgotten. His gaze locked.
There was something about her, something so jarring in this landscape of smoke and noise and testosterone. She didn’t belong, not here, not among the men drunk off relief and reckless bravado. She was something other. Something softer. Something quiet.
“Jesus, Heffron,” Guarnere muttered with a laugh, “Wipe your chin, you’re starin’ like you’ve never seen a girl before.”
Babe didn’t answer.
Didn’t blink.
Didn’t move until the woman stepped up to the bar and perched carefully on a stool, pulling her cap off and smoothing down her hair before ordering a Coke—a Coke, for Christ’s sake. The bartender barely looked at her. Her presence felt like a whisper in a room full of shouts.
He was already getting up.
“Here he goes,” Guarnere muttered to Luz, who gave an exaggerated wolf whistle that Babe ignored, “She’s from anotha’ unit,” Guarnere called after him, grinning, “Try not to scare her off!”
He made his way through the crowd like it didn’t matter, like he had every reason in the world to be walking over to her—because right then, it felt like he did.
At the bar, he slipped into the space beside her and rapped the counter twice with his knuckles, “Beer,” he said to the bartender, then glanced down. She was sipping on a glass bottle of Coke, her fingers wrapped tightly around it like it was a lifeline. When she noticed him beside her, she flicked her eyes up just for a second.
He caught it. That glimpse. Just for a second—he caught a flicker of something in her eyes. That shy little look before she turned her head again. Surprise. Caution.
He liked it.
Didn’t move away.
Didn’t stop looking.
“Didn’t expect to see a lady in a place like this,” he said, casually, “Especially not drinkin’ a Coke. You celebratin’ or hidin’?”
She blinked, lips parted like the question caught her off guard, “I...don’t really drink,” she said quietly.
Her voice was soft. Nervous. Babe liked it more than he should have.
“You always this quiet, or is it just me?” he asked, tilting his head.
And just like that, something flickered in her again. Like a match struck just once in the dark. And Babe? He leaned into the spark. She looked at him then. Really looked. And God help her, it was his smile that did it. That confident, crooked little grin that said he knew exactly what he was doing and enjoyed it.
His hair was the first thing she noticed—bright copper in the low light, messy in a way that looked deliberate, like he’d just run his hands through it before swaggering over. His face was all sharp lines softened only by the faint flush in his cheeks, and that damn smile—cocky, effortless, like he’d never had to work hard to get attention.
He stood close, not too close, but enough that she could feel the heat radiating off him. He smelled like smoke and whiskey and something else—something earthy, like worn canvas and adrenaline. And she hated the way it made her heart jump.
He wasn’t tall—not like the men in her company—but something about him made her feel even smaller. Maybe it was the way he held himself. Like he belonged in every room. Like the war hadn’t knocked him off balance the way it had her.
Or maybe it was just the way he looked at her—steadily, confidently, like he’d already decided she was something he wanted.
And no one had ever looked at her like that.
Not like she was a woman. Not like she was worth noticing.
It scared her. It thrilled her.
And when he grinned again, head tilted slightly like he could read her whole goddamn soul, she had to glance down, just to breathe, “I don’t talk to a lot of people,” she said, almost defensively, “Just my company.”
“You should branch out,” Babe said, “We’re not all assholes,” she snorted—actually snorted—and he took that as a win, “I’m Babe,” he said, offering his hand, “Well—Edward, but nobody calls me that,” she hesitated, then placed her smaller hand in his. It was warm. Her fingers fit between his perfectly.
He held on just a moment too long.
Babe hadn’t expected her to take his hand.
Hell, he hadn’t expected her to stay.
But the second her fingers slid into his—smaller, softer, careful—something in his chest shifted.
It wasn’t the kind of pull he was used to. This wasn’t about getting lucky or impressing the boys. It was quieter than that. Slower. Like gravity had decided she was the center now, and he’d be a damn fool not to orbit.
She wasn’t doing anything special. She wasn’t flirting. She wasn’t trying.
She was just there.
Soft-spoken. Guarded. Wrapped in something invisible that made him want to know her, to peel back whatever careful layers she was hiding behind.
And maybe that scared him a little, because it had been a long time since anything felt real. Since someone made him want to stop talking and just listen.
And right then? She was winning him over without even trying.
Just by standing there.
“I know who you are,” she said, so quietly he almost missed it.
Babe stilled. Not in a sharp, startled way—but like something in him paused just to take her in better. The way her lashes dipped after she spoke, like she regretted it the second it left her mouth. Like she didn’t realize the power she had in saying it.
His eyebrows lifted, that crooked grin returning, slower this time, “You been askin’ about me, sweetheart?”
She flushed instantly, her eyes going wide as she jerked her hand back from his like she’d touched something too hot, “No. I mean—your unit’s talked about a lot. Around the barracks.”
Babe chuckled under his breath, but there was something else behind it—something softer, sharper. Without even realising it, he leaned in, closer, his shoulder brushing hers, his drink forgotten. He didn’t mean to crowd her, but he couldn’t help it—she pulled him in.
Not in some loud, showy way. She wasn’t batting her lashes or leaning forward like the girls back home did when they wanted to be chased.
She was just...there.
Looking up at him with those cautious eyes like she didn’t know she was already tangled around his nerves. Like she didn’t know he was the one falling into whatever trap she wasn’t even trying to set.
He dropped his voice as he tilted toward her ear, like it was just the two of them in the whole damn bar, “Good things, I hope.”
And God help him, he liked the way she swallowed hard at that—like he was already a little too close, a little too much, and she didn’t know whether to pull away or lean in.
And Babe? He was already hers, and she hadn’t even asked for it.
She nodded. But the moment stretched, and she looked like she might bolt.
Babe reached for his drink, took a sip, then set it down. He leaned his elbow on the bar and turned more fully toward her.
“You from Philly?” he asked.
She shook her head, “North Carolina.”
“Explains the sweet,” he said.
She blinked, confused, “What?”
He grinned again, slower this time, “Your voice. It’s sweet. Kinda soft. Like honey or something,” her mouth parted again, breath hitching in her throat.
She was not used to attention. Not like this. And definitely not from someone who looked at her like that—like he was already undressing her in his mind and savoring every second of it.
Babe tried to look away. Tried to bite back the images starting to flicker through his mind like film reels he hadn’t asked to load. But it was useless. She looked at him with wide eyes, caught somewhere between flustered and curious, and that was dangerous. That look could undo a man if he wasn’t careful.
He took a sip of his beer, hoping the bitterness might ground him, but all it did was give him a second to imagine what her lips might taste like instead.
Christ, get it together, he thought.
But he couldn’t help it.
Couldn’t stop the way his mind wandered—how she’d look in the morning light, bare and soft, curled up in sheets with that shy little smile that probably didn’t come out often. Or the way her voice—already sweet as honey—might sound breathless in the dark, whispering his name like a secret.
He wondered if she’d melt under his hands, the way she seemed to melt under his gaze. If she’d be gentle or if there was something else simmering under all that quiet—something only he’d get to see.
The thought alone made heat crawl up the back of his neck.
And as she sat there, cheeks flushed, lashes fluttering, still holding tight to that Coke bottle like it might save her from him—he realised something that hit deeper than just want—it wasn’t just any girl making him feel this way.
It was her.
And that? That made it so much worse.
So much better.
“I, um...should probably get back to my group—”
“Let them wait,” Babe said easily, “You got any idea how rare it is to find a lady like you in a dump like this? I ain’t wastin’ it,” she swallowed.
He could tell she wanted to run. But she wasn’t. Not yet.
She swallowed. Hard.
Because no one had ever spoken to her like that—not with charm, not with heat, not with something real coiled beneath the surface.
Not like she mattered.
Back home, she’d always been the quiet one, the polite one. The girl who kept her head down, followed orders, didn’t draw attention. Even in her unit, the men looked at her like a sister, or worse, like she wasn’t there at all.
But Babe Heffron?
He looked at her like she was everything.
Like the room had blurred behind her.
Like she wasn’t just some girl in uniform—she was the girl.
It made her dizzy. It made her nervous.
And it made her want to stay.
She’d heard of him before—Heffron, Easy Company. The stories drifted around the barracks like smoke, names passed in hushed admiration or jealous awe. The redhead from Philly who fought like hell and laughed louder than anyone had a right to in times like these.
She never thought he would see her.
And now here he was—closer than he should be, calling her sweet, telling her to stay, like the whole damn war could wait.
And she’d never felt so acknowledged in her entire life.
She whispered, “You’re very...forward.”
He chuckled lowly and leaned down until his mouth was next to her ear, “That a bad thing, sweetheart?” her breath caught. Her heart was hammering. His scent was all whiskey and cigarettes and something warmer underneath. Her fingers tightened around her Coke like it could anchor her. She didn’t answer. And that silence—it was almost louder than anything else in the room. Babe pulled back just enough to meet her eyes again, “You’re nervous,” he murmured.
“I don’t do this.”
“Don’t do what?” his voice dipped, his gaze dropping to her lips.
Her voice barely came out, fragile as spun glass, “Talk to guys. Like…this.”
Babe blinked, just for a second.
It wasn’t the words that got him—it was the way she said them. Like this wasn’t just new, it was foreign.
Like no one had ever leaned in close and made her feel seen. Like no guy had ever given her a reason to speak softer, to blush this hard, to wonder if her heartbeat was too damn loud.
He stared at her, eyebrows ticking up, the faintest flicker of surprise in his eyes.
“You serious?” he asked, not teasing—curious.
She nodded once, eyes dropping, like she regretted admitting it. Like it was something to be ashamed of.
And Babe? He wasn’t smug now. He was floored.
Because the girl standing in front of him—shy, sharp-eyed, sweet as hell—was the kind of woman most guys would fall all over themselves for. And the fact that no one had bothered before?
That made his jaw clench a little.
And made him want to be the first and last guy she ever talked to like this, “Then let me make it easy,” he said. His thumb brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, “Just sit with me. One drink. No pressure,” she stared at him. Torn between fear and something new bubbling inside her.
Then, after a long pause, she whispered, “Okay,” that single word left her lips like a secret, delicate and uncertain, but Babe heard it loud and clear. His grin returned—slower this time, softer, like it was just for her.
He offered his hand again, and she took it without thinking. He guided her through the crowd, his fingers curling around hers like they were something to protect. He didn’t let go, not even when they reached a quieter corner table at the edge of the bar—away from the rowdy laughter and sloshing drinks.
“Didn’t catch your name,” he said as he pulled out a chair for her—gentleman-like, but with a glint in his eye that suggested anything but innocence.
She hesitated, then murmured, “Y/N,” like it might disappear if said too loudly.
“Y/N,” Babe let it roll off his tongue, testing the sound, smiling like it was something he wanted to remember for the rest of his life, “Pretty name. Suits you,” she looked down, her cheeks heating again, “So,” he said, leaning in across the small table, forearms resting casually on the wood, “North Carolina, doesn’t drink, hasn’t flirted with a guy before…tell me, what do you do when you’re not knockin’ all of us dead just by walkin’ into a room?”
She huffed a laugh—half disbelief, half nerves, “I…read a lot.”
“Dangerous,” he murmured, his smile widening, “Smart and quiet. Real lethal combo.”
She laughed under her breath, “You’re laying it on pretty thick.”
He leaned in closer, eyes locked to hers, “Only ‘cause it’s true.”
Their drinks came—another Coke for her, beer for him—but he didn’t look away, not once. He asked more questions, asked about her training, what base she was stationed at before, if she missed home. And he listened. Really listened. And every now and then, he’d lean in just a little more.
At one point, when she said something about how her brothers used to tease her accent, he reached over without thinking, brushing his thumb along the edge of her jaw—just enough to make her breath catch.
“Don’t let ‘em take that from you,” he said, “That voice? Sweetest thing I’ve heard in years.”
And she froze.
Because now—now he was close. So close.
He’d leaned in again, his elbow on the back of her chair, that crooked grin flickering to something deeper, something darker, something that sat right between affection and want. His knee brushed hers beneath the table. His eyes dropped to her lips—barely for a second—but she felt it.
She could feel the warmth of his breath, faint and heady with beer. If she moved, just the tiniest bit—tilted her head forward, maybe said his name—she’d be kissing him.
And the worst part?
She wanted to.
She wanted to know how he’d taste, how he’d touch, how it would feel to let someone like Babe Heffron undo her completely.
She swallowed hard, eyes flickering nervously between his lips and his steady, confident gaze. Finally, she whispered, almost afraid he’d mishear, “I’ve… never done something like this before.”
The confession hung in the air between them, fragile and honest. Babe’s grin softened into something warmer, more protective. He reached out, lightly tracing a thumb along the back of her hand.
“Hey,” he said gently, voice low enough so only she could hear, “If at any point you wanna stop—say the word. I’ll back off, no questions asked. No pressure, no bullshit,” she nodded, biting her lip, her heart racing so loud she was sure he could hear it, “But,” he added, his eyes darkening with a promise that made her breath hitch, “If you don’t want me to stop...then I’ll make damn sure this is the best damn thing you ever experience. The only one you’ll ever need.”
His words wrapped around her like a promise and a dare all at once. She hesitated, then looked up—right into those fierce, honest eyes—and for the first time, she let herself believe it.
That maybe, just maybe, this could be the beginning of something she never thought she’d have.
Something real.
Something unforgettable.
Her pulse thundered in her ears, but she held his gaze, searching for any sign of doubt or mockery—and found none. Only the steady warmth of someone who meant every word.
Slowly, she nodded again, a whisper of trust weaving through her nerves, “Okay,” she said, voice barely above a breath.
Babe’s smile deepened, that crooked, winning grin that made her feel both safe and dangerously alive. He reached out, fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch feather-light but electric.
“Good,” he murmured, “Because I plan on making this night one you won’t forget. And I’m not just talking about the drinks.”
Her cheeks flushed hotter, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned in just a little, the space between them shrinking until her breath mingled with his.
The world around them blurred—no shouting men, no clinking glasses, just the quiet heat building between two people who knew this moment was the start of something neither of them could quite put into words yet.
And Babe? He was already planning every next move.
Summary: what it would be like to be in love with your brother’s best friend
Characters: Babe Heffron, Lewis Nixon, Joe Liebgott, George Luz, Floyd Talbert
Warnings: sexual content implied, swear words, f!reader
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BABE HEFFRON 🪖
- being Eugene Roe’s little sister wasn’t always fun and games
- you were just as smart and as medically qualified as him, but seeing as you were a woman you had to fight a lot harder to get a spot on the lines with him in Easy Company
- the men respect the hell out of you and you know that any one of them would take a bullet or more for you
- especially a certain redhead from South Philly
- Babe is like head over heels for you at first sight
- you, on the other hand, not so much. you’ve seen a million guys like him and learned not to get attached because the good ones always die
- that is, until you find yourself falling for him despite your walls you had put up
- your brother also really likes Babe, but you know he is against you being with anyone in his company
- or being with anyone at all, for that matter
- the first time you let yourself be yourself with Babe, you had been drinking way too much and your brother was no where to be found. Babe, like the gentleman he is, walks you back
- one thing led to another and Babe, also intoxicated, made a move
- literally the best night of your life
- you wake up the next morning completely naked with a sheet over the two of you
- “holy shit holy shit holy shit”
- Babe is freaked the fuck out and honestly you are too but you don’t regret it one bit
- “Doc can never know.”
- okay but Doc does find out. you two weren’t exactly quiet and Luz and Liebgott have loud mouths
- “man I can’t believe you boned the doc’s sister.” you immediately punch Luz while Leib is eating every minute of it up
- your brother is absolutely beside himself with rage for a moment
- but you say you love Babe and you want to be with him, regardless of the risk
- Babe is all like “Awww you are so sweet”
- your brother gets over his anger and is genuinely happy for the two of you
- Eugene is Babe’s best man at the wedding
LEWIS NIXON 🥃
- when Lew meets his best friend’s baby sister, he doesn’t expect to be attracted to her right off the bat
- he immediately is like “nope.” and pushes all of that down
- but he can’t help himself from thinking of fucking you about a hundred different ways
- you’re absolutely stunning, you’re smart, and funny?
- not to mention you keep Dick on his toes
- your brother knows you’re a beautiful young woman who’s completely available, so he does his best to keep the men at bay
- the one thing you don’t do, however, is drink. you’re just like your brother in that regard. and you despise that Lew drinks as much as he does
- he knows this, too, and subconsciously begins to cut back on his bad habit
- he says it’s for his health, but Dick knows better
- Dick definitely catches on pretty early into it, he knows you and his best friend like the back of his hand
- “do you have a thing for my sister, Nix?”
- immediately choking on his coffee, “come again?”
- “that’s a yes.” Harry Welsh chimes in, Nix flips him the bird
- “listen, Dick,” Lewis explains himself, “she’s a great girl but I would never do that to you. Besides, I’m going through a divorce.”
- but Dick isn’t totally against it like Lew thinks
- in fact, you had begun to express your feelings for the man to your brother in hopes he would come around
- and one thing about Richard Winters? he wants to make you happy even if he’s not happy about it
- that same week, you confront Lew and tell him you really admire him and that you really don’t care about his divorce or his bad habits
- he grabs your face and kisses you, like head-spinning kisses you
- Babe and Liebgott are like “is anyone else seeing this or..”
- needless to say, you and Nixon are inseparable after that
- as soon as his divorce is finalized, the two of you marry
- he permanently kicks his bad habit, and the two of you happily settle down in a nice quiet area not far from your brother
JOE LIEBGOTT 🚕
- this would go either one of two ways
- but definitely the fwb, sneaking around way
- mainly because your brother, David Webster, who lowkey rage baits Joe at times
- listen Web is a very smart man, I think he would know that you two were in love before either of you did
- but he’s gonna let you two play it out for yourselves
- you think you’re so sneaky
- everyone slowly catches on
- especially when you get wounded and Joe is losing his shit
- you went the whole war without being hurt, then you go and get shot by a drunken American soldier in the Alps while waiting for the war to end
- you and Joe had literally just had a conversation about going back home together and telling everyone
- but he chickened out and you stormed out, driving a jeep to clear your mind
- when Grant finds you and gets shot himself, everyone is in chaos
- Joe is like on the hunt for this man who shot you, out for blood
- he tells Web he loves you and he’s not wasting another second of your time
- you pull through just fine, and Joe asks you to marry him
- everyone is telling you how insane he went thinking he had lost you before he was able to tell you he loved you
- you get married in the Alps the day the war is over and the pacific is won
- right after the baseball game haha
- you two move back to San Francisco and he gets to work for all of those little Leibs he wants running around
GEORGE LUZ 📻
- he had always admired how funny you were
- your brother Skip Muck was a trip, and so were you
- you had the men laughing all the time
- George knew he was in love with you the moment you did a terrible Sobel impression
- you became a nurse to stay close to your older brother, the two of you had always been so tight knit and you couldn’t imagine him going off to fight a war without you
- George and you would cut up all the time, going back and forth with impressions
- everyone would say that he had a little shadow
- he didn’t mind, though
- Luz promised himself he would never cross that line because he cared about his friends too much, and he knew Muck wanted a good man for his little sister
- but when Bastogne comes and Skip Muck and Alex Penkala die, Luz wishes so badly he had just asked for permission to be with you
- Donald Malarkey notices how much George hovers after their deaths
- one day he finally just asks, “What the hell is going on, Luz?”
- “I’m in love with her.”
- Malark encourages George Luz to peruse you, assures him that Skip would definitely approve
- I mean who wouldn’t approve of this man?
- you and George have the sweetest relationship, he’s so protective but always making sure you’re laughing and smiling
- you know your brother would have loved to see you and George together
FLOYD TALBERT 🐕
- Tab is such a sweet man
- you literally fell head over heels for him the first night you met
- your brother, Chuck Grant, introduced you when you joined up as a nurse
- Tab definitely thinks you’re too good for him
- he’s a little bit of a womanizer, despite being such a sweet man, so your brother is very much like “my sister is off limits”
- thattttt doesn’t stop Tab though
- well, more so you than him (at first)
- you hook up with Tab one night after the two of you find yourselves alone in a house, pretty early on in the war
- he tells you it’s a one time thing and that it can’t ever happen again
- it happens over and over and over and —
- he definitely jokes that you’re the dog mom to his dog he finds, and you both come up with the name Trigger
- Grant is so suspicious of you two he’s like why are you closer to my bestie than I am
- you finally come clean to your brother on VE Day
- but you kinda have to because he caught you and Tab in a very scandalizing position
- “I knew you were banging my sister when you wouldn’t make out with that hot Dutch woman!”
- Tab doesn’t even try to deny it (you’re in his bed making out with him when your brother barges in, so it’s kinda hard to deny anything)
- everyone, and I mean everyone, knew before Grant did
- “It was so obvious with his puppy dog eyes when he looks at her.” “Shut up, Luz”
- Grant slowly comes around
- Floyd is definitely your anchor when your brother is shot in the head by the drunken soldier
- thankfully your brother pulls through
- you and Floyd Talbert get married as soon as you’re back home in America
- you both lead a private life, as the war scarred you
Heloooo! Could you do some hcs of the guys seeing you cry for the first time? 🤍
a/n: absolutely! sorry I’ve been mia I’ve been actually busy for once?! thank you so much for the ask <3 I did the setup a little different this time! also might do a part 2 of this?
warnings: mentions of war, death, violence
JOE LIEBGOTT
I genuinely think the first time Joe would even notice your emotions would be this time. Grant has just been shot, you’ve gone the whole war without breaking down in front of people, but you just can’t stay strong when your closest friend is fighting for his life.
acts irritated at first only because he genuinely doesn't know what to do with himself. like he'll look at you and go weirdly still, all the smart remarks just gone. if anybody else is around, he's immediately telling them to get lost because he does not want an audience for this.
he'd crouch down in front of you or lean against the wall near you and be like, "Hey. Hey, look at me."
not soft in an obvious way, but soft for him. and definitely the softest you’ve ever seen him (aside from the time Tipper got wounded)
definitely the type to threaten violence because he thinks that comforts you? for some reason? like, “listen, when we find this bastard, I’m gonna beat the shit out of him for what he did to Grant.”
would hug you if you were a hugger and wouldn’t leave you alone after this tbh
BABE HEFFRON
you are so distraught over Julien, just the knowing how young he was and his life was cut so short and no one could get his body or his belongings.
Babe just so happens to be in the foxhole with you, just as sad but not wanting to show that to you. but when he sees your eyes welling up with tears?
immediate panic, immediate concern.
poor man looks like somebody just told him the world is ending. (to him, you are his world so it basically is ending)
he's sitting beside you, like leg to leg & arm to arm, before you even realize he moved, talking gently, handing you a handkerchief, rubbing your back all sweet and careful.
Babe is the type to keep trying to make you laugh through it too, not because he's dismissing it, but because he hates seeing you hurt.
definitely says something like, "Aw, c'mon, sweetheart, don't do this to me." and means it with his whole chest.
EUGENE ROE
the first time Doc sees you cry is when you see the women of Holland being shaved and mistreated.
you can’t explain why, other than the injustice they’re experiencing just for trying to survive the war the same as everybody else was.
everyone’s kinda staring at you wit your tears openly rolling down your face as you watch on.
but not Gene.
Gene is the calmest one, which almost makes it worse because the second Doc notices, he knows this is serious.
he wouldn't crowd you.
he'd come over quiet, kneel beside you, ask if you're hurt, ask what happened, and wait.
truly wait. no pressure. no talking just to fill the silence.
if you let him comfort you, he's very gentle about it, wiping your tears away with his thumb like it's the most natural thing in the world.
makes you feel a little too seen, honestly.
GEORGE LUZ
okay the first time Luz sees you cry is kinda stupid.
Sobel yelled at you over something extremely dumb and you had to rerun the entire course. so you’re done with that, sitting alone away from everyone and just letting your frustration run away from you and expressing that through tears.
George “accidentally” finds you. he’s all cracking jokes about how he’d like to piss in Sobel’s morning coffee when you look up at him.
goes from joking around to serious in half a second. like it would genuinely shock him.
he’d stop mid sentence and just stare for a second because he’s never seen you cry before and suddenly he feels awful.
then he gets protective fast.
sits with you, talks to you softly, tries to distract you if you want that, and if someone else caused it?
he is loudly taking your side.
also the type to keep checking on you after, pretending he’s being casual about it when he absolutely is not.
Hi, I was wondering how bob boys would find themselves in a love triangle situation with reader omg. I would love to read it made by you because your work is amazing<3
Wow okay my first ever ask!! I hope I did this justice. I think I got a little carried away but I did love triangles based on interesting dynamics and what I’d like to see. Thank you so much for this request.
Warnings: language, death, brief mention of blood from a wound, cheating? sorta
Love Triangle
────୨ৎ────
Richard “Dick” Winters & Lewis Nixon
- okay I think at first, neither of them would act on their feelings for you.
- ultimately it would be Nix who would make a move, and I don’t think he would be aware of Dick’s feelings for you
- at least not at first
- you and Nix grow very close in a short amount of time, eventually becoming a little too close
- you two would argue a lot after so long
- you’d find comfort in your closest friend aside from Nix: Dick Winters
- you’d always thought Dick was a handsome man, but you thought he was too good for you
- so of course you settle for his best friend
- Nix and you both try to mend the relationship but it’s on the rocks, especially with more and more stress being put on him from his position
- you find yourself glued to Dick
- Nix isn’t blind. He sees how Dick looks at you after a while
- would probably straight up confront Dick about it
- “Yeah. It’s true.” Dick would say in response
- Nix realizes that there’s a deeper connection between you and Dick, so he steps aside for the two people he loves most to be happy
- you and Dick would definitely flow better
- you two even get married during the war
- Nix never fully gets over you
- you cry a lot more than you’d like to admit when Dick tells you that Lew passed away
- you both attend his funeral
Eugene Roe & Babe Heffron
- you’re probably a nurse who helps Gene a lot with soldiers and you two are like inseparable
- then Babe comes along as a replacement
- Babe is very vocal about his feelings for you
- Gene is just kinda like “oh” because he never got to the point where he felt comfortable enough or like it was the right time
- you definitely have thought about Gene in that way before but you never thought he would be interested in you, so you let yourself fall for Babe
- but Gene is lowkey always at the back of your mind (me too tbh)
- during Bastogne, Babe notices how Gene is towards you and it starts to get under his skin a little bit
- especially when you get hurt and Doc Roe is suddenly all about you and no one else
- you’d think Doc was about to die himself
- Gene never leaves your side after that, and when he has to it’s only because you force him to worry about someone other than you
- Babe pushes this down, because Eugene was your friend before Babe was your boyfriend so he doesn’t wanna overstep his boundaries
- but everyone in the company sees it, too
- Babe would be the type to hover around after Bastogne if it was just you and Gene. He never says it, but he’s insecure of the friendship you two share
- unfortunately Gene would never confess unless you did first and were no longer in a relationship
- Gene would definitely kiss you on the cheek on your wedding day and tell you to take care of each other
- spends the rest of his life wondering “what if?”
- Eugene names his daughter after you, and tells her why an impact you had on him when she asks where her name came from
- you die before either of them do, and Babe is not surprised to see Eugene at your funeral
Ronald Speirs & Carwood Lipton
- you and Speirs have a complicated past, to say the least
- you were his one night stand turned fwb
- until you got to know Lip
- Lip was everything you had ever dreamed of in a man
- Speirs immediately took notice
- see, you and Speirs’ little relationship wasn’t completely unknown to the company
- but Lip didn’t care, he never judged you for anything
- in fact, he was falling just as hard as you were and just as fast
- the first time you two kissed, after you narrowly dodged a grenade explosion, Speirs witnessed the whole thing
- “I can’t imagine my life without you in it.” Lip had told you
- you couldn’t agree more
- so why did Speirs nag at you from the back of your brain?
- Speirs realizes he loves you but it’s too late
- and despite everything, he can’t be selfish. not with you
- after taking the Eagles Nest and Speirs getting a little too drunk, he confesses his feelings to you
- “I always loved you, I just didn’t know it.”
- “it’s too late for that, Ron.”
- “I know.”
- he wishes you and Lip the best, and after the war is over, you never hear from or see him again
- but Speirs knows that you and Lip got married and had children
George Luz & Donald Malarkey
- oh this one is a doozy
- Luz makes you laugh
- Malark makes you feel better
- they’re both two very important people to you
- but unfortunately they both fall for you at the same time
- Luz has always joked that you’re his future wife
- Malark is just happy to be around you
- but Luz confesses first, so you choose him
- until.. Muck and Penkala are killed and Malark is broken and won’t admit it
- you immediately notice a change in them both, but more so Malark
- he begins to lean on you and you allow him, effectively making George jealous
- Luz definitely knows Malarkey loves you and he definitely knows about the confession of feelings
- it ultimately leads to George breaking up with you out of insecurity and fear of you leaving him
- you and Malark grow closer, and you two begin to date. however, things aren’t as good as they were with Luz
- you seriously miss your ex and Don can tell
- you two brings things off amicably and you still keep in touch with him after the war
- George Luz is too stubborn to admit he misses you at first
- you get him to crack after he gets one beer in him
- you two rekindle your relationship and marry a month after the war is over
- after George dies, and Don’s wife dies, you two move in together and live out the rest of your elderly life together
Joseph Liebgott & David Webster
- oof okay. so you’re Web’s girlfriend from back home that followed him as a nurse while he became a paratrooper
- Lieb is immediately in love at first sight
- literally pissed when he finds out you’re somebody’s girl
- “the best damn nurse,” he’d tell you, and his charm works
- after David is injured and sent to recover in a hospital, you stay with the company as a front line nurse
- as much as you don’t wanna admit it, you’ve grown very find of Joe Liebgott
- he’s very flirty with you and doesn’t give a damn
- you lowkey don’t either
- there are definitely rumors that swirl around about how the two of you are sleeping together behind your boyfriend’s back
- you lowkey wish they were true
- you are loyal to David so you stay that way, until Bastogne when you experience hell first hand and lose respect for him lying in a hospital when he was barely wounded in the first place
- you are wounded and Joe almost loses his mind over it
- quite literally bleeding profusely and he’s holding your hand, wiping your hair away from your face, wiping tears away, promising you’ll be just fine
- things are not the same after this
- you don’t love David anymore. not the way you should. you strongly feel he should have been there and not in some hospital
- when he returns, you’re cold towards him the same as Joe
- but truth be told, he doesn’t feel the same about you anymore, either
- you guys had been together since high school and have grown into two very different people since then
- so, he becomes the bigger person and asks to talk. you both agree that you’re not the same and that you both deserve a chance to find someone who fits the new version better. he apologizes for not being there when you needed him most, and you forgive him
- you and Joe’s love blossoms. immediately claiming you as his, telling you, “I’ve waited so long for this,” and you two getting married as soon as you’re back on American soil
- lots and lots of babies
- you never go back to your hometown where you know David is; only to see your family now and then
- you run into David Webster one last time in a grocery store running an errand for your mom. you two catch up, telling him you’re pregnant with your fifth
- “a boy, Joseph is hoping,” you’ll tell him. he smiles and says he’s happy for you. you never see him again
- David Webster is lost at sea not long before you have your last baby. a boy named David
Summary: Babe Heffron loves you, that’s for sure. But as Easy Company’s angel, he knows no one would approve. That is, until he sees an open opportunity to prove himself.
Warning(s)/disclaimers: sexual harassment, sexual content (if u squint), swearing, reader being a total badass, Babe gets jealous, mentions of reader being Southern.
WC: 4148
The first time Private Babe Heffron met you, he didn’t think he’d remember you.
Not because you were plain. No, you were so far from plain.
But because people passed through Easy Company’s orbit all the time — replacements, medics, officers, faces that stayed for a week and died or were wounded by the next. He learned not to get attached. He learned not to notice too closely. He figured everybody else had learned to do the same.
So when he was sent to the aid station with a split knuckle and a headache he refused to name, he expected the usual: brisk hands, clipped words, no eye contact.
Instead, he got you.
“Sit.” you said, already reaching for his hand.
Not sharp. Not cold. Just… confident.
Babe lowered himself onto the chair, watching you from beneath his lashes as you took his knuckles into your hands like they belonged there. Your touch was steady, warm despite the cold, fingers confident in a way that made him relax before he meant to.
You didn’t look at his face at first. Focused on the injury. On the job.
“That hurt?” you asked.
“A little,” he admitted.
“Hm.” You tilted your head. “You say that like a man who’s lyin’.”
That southern accent hit him sideways.
Soft but not slow. Warm without being sweet. Like you’d grown up with porch swings and summer heat and learned early how to sound gentle while meaning business.
He huffed a laugh before he could stop himself.
“Maybe a little more than a little.”
“Thought so.” You glanced up at him then, eyes sharp, mouth curved like you already knew something about him. “You’re tense. Try breathin’.”
He did. Immediately. Which annoyed him.
“Yes, ma’am,” he muttered.
That earned him a real smile.
——
Easy Company talked about you before Babe ever asked your name.
Not in a crude way. Not the way men sometimes talked about nurses when they forgot themselves.
They talked about you like you were… safe.
“She doesn’t rush you,” one guy said.
“She don’t panic,” another added.
“She talks you through it,” Guarnere muttered. “Like she’s got all the time in the world.”
Doc Roe noticed too. Of course he did.
“She’s good,” Roe said quietly one night. “Pays attention.”
Babe nodded like that didn’t mean anything.
But it did.
Because he noticed the way you remembered things. The way you called men by their first names or preferred nickname. The way you never flinched — not at blood, not at shouting, not even when someone broke down right in front of you.
Most of all, he noticed the way you spoke to him.
You didn’t tease him like Guarnere did. You didn’t prod him into jokes like Liebgott. You didn’t tiptoe around or hover over him like some people did when they noticed his quiet.
You spoke to him like he was just Babe.
That did something to him.
——
Before he knew it, he was seeking you out. Whether it was to take paperwork to the tents, to accompany Doc Roe on a supply run, he always found a way to see you.
This time, it was late. Far past visiting hours, the nurses long gone and the patients fast asleep.
He’d been sent to deliver something — paperwork, maybe, he couldn’t remember — and he found you alone, sitting on a crate outside the aid station, rubbing at your neck like the day had settled there and refused to move.
You didn’t jump when he approached.
“Evenin’,” you said, voice tired but pleasant.
“Evenin’,” he replied.
You watched him for a second, then patted the crate beside you.
He hesitated. Then sat.
The quiet between you wasn’t awkward. It was… earned.
“You from Pennsylvania?” you asked suddenly.
He blinked. “Yeah. How’d you know?”
You smiled faintly. “You pronounce your O’s like my daddy did. He grew up near Pittsburgh.”
Babe felt something loosen in his chest.
“My ma’s from there,” he said. “You from the South?”
You laughed softly. “Is it that obvious?”
“A little.”
“Georgia,” you said. “Hotter’n hell and twice as stubborn.”
He smiled before he could help it.
You talked for ten minutes. About nothing. About home. About food you missed. About weather that didn’t try to kill you.
He had asked how old you were, “You don’t look a day over seventeen.”
You had laughed, “I’ll be twenty in February.”
“Huh,” Babe smiled at you, “Twenty. I’ll be twenty-two.”
When someone passed by, you both fell quiet automatically.
When the footsteps faded, you didn’t move away.
That was when Babe realized he’d been looking forward to this without knowing it.
——
The first time he touched you, it was accidental.
Or at least that’s what you both pretended.
He reached past you for a supply crate. You turned at the same time. His fingers brushed your wrist.
Electric. Your heart has sped up, and the heat across your face betrayed you.
You stilled. He stilled.
“Sorry,” he said quickly.
“It’s alright,” you replied — but your voice was different. More high-pitched than normal.
Neither of you moved for a beat too long. You tilted your head to look at him, another step and you could have kissed him.
Then you stepped away.
That night, Babe lay awake staring at the ceiling, replaying it like it meant something. Nah, he thought to himself, no way she’d go for a guy like me.
But you would.
——
The kiss didn’t happen fast. It happened slow, intentionally.
In the way your eyes lingered a second too long when you finished bandaging him, fingers brushing his skin like you weren’t quite ready to let go. In the way Babe started finding reasons to pass the aid station that made no sense at all, cuts that didn’t need checking, questions he already knew the answers to. In the way you stopped calling him Heffron — not all at once, not dramatically — just one day letting Babe slip from your mouth like it had always belonged there.
It built in restraint.
And restraint, you’d learned, was dangerous.
It happened one evening when the camp was quiet, the kind of quiet that pressed in on your ears. The sky hung low and heavy, clouds swollen and dark like something was waiting to break loose.
You walked him out after checking a cut he absolutely didn’t need looked at. You both knew it. Neither of you said it.
“You didn’t have to come,” you said, voice softer than you meant it to be.
“I wanted to,” he answered, just as quietly.
You took two more steps before stopping.
“I wanted you to come, too,” you admitted.
He halted behind you.
For a second, neither of you moved. The air felt thick, charged, like it might spark if either of you breathed wrong. Then you turned, slowly, and he looked at you — really looked at you — like he’d been holding himself back for weeks and finally ran out of reasons to keep doing so.
Whatever restraint he’d been practicing cracked.
Not all at once.
Slowly. Carefully.
He stepped closer, giving you time, watching your face like he’d leave the moment you asked him to. When his hand lifted, it hovered first — a question — before settling on your cheek. Warm. Steady. Certain.
You didn’t pull away.
Your breath stuttered instead, a quiet sound that made his jaw tighten.
When his mouth met yours, it was gentle at first. Testing. Like he was memorizing the feel of you, like he needed to be sure this was real. His lips were warm, unhurried, the kind of kiss that asked softly instead of demanded.
But when you sighed — content, and melted into his kiss, he felt a surge of adrenaline.
He kissed you again, deeper this time, still controlled but unmistakably hungry, hand moved down and thumb pressing lightly into your throat like he was grounding himself. You moaned lightly into his mouth, the sound music to his ears. The world narrowed to the press of his body, the slow tilt of his mouth, the way his breath mixed with yours like you’d been waiting for it.
When you finally pulled back, your forehead rested against his, the space between you gone but the moment still humming.
“Well,” you murmured, accent thick and warm, voice a little breathless now, “that takes care of that.”
A quiet laugh slipped from him, low and almost disbelieving.
“Yeah,” he said.
Neither of you said another word.
You didn’t need to.
Everything that mattered was already there — lingering in the space between your bodies, heavy and inevitable, like the storm finally ready to break.
By the time Babe realized he was in love with you, it already felt inevitable.
You fit into his life quietly. Easily. Like you’d always been meant to be there.
And when he kissed you in the dark, hidden from the world, he already knew the worst part wouldn’t be the fear of losing you.
It would be pretending you weren’t his when the sun came up.
By the time winter started biting harder, you and Babe had a system.
It wasn’t written down. Nobody ever said, This is how we do it now. It just… happened. Slowly. Naturally. Like two people who didn’t need to talk themselves into something they already wanted.
Some nights it was a knock on the aid station door, soft and deliberate.
Some nights it was you slipping out after lights-out, shawl pulled tight, boots quiet in the mud.
Sometimes it was nothing more than a look held a second too long across a crowded space — a promise deferred.
Babe liked the nights you came to him best.
You always checked first. Always made sure no one was nearby. Then you’d step into the shadows like you belonged there, like the dark had been waiting on you.
“Hey, Philly,” you’d whisper sometimes, teasing.
He’d grin despite himself. “Hey, Georgia.”
He never got tired of that — the way you said it like it meant something personal, like it was just for you.
Babe loved those nights he could have you in whatever way he wanted. Kissing your moans into a quiet and content sigh, leaving marks only you and him could see. Some marks only he could see.
Those nights didn’t happen often, with the constant traveling and fighting, but those nights Babe got you all to himself — he never took those for granted.
Being with you was different than anything Babe had known.
You didn’t cling. Didn’t demand. Didn’t act like this was fragile.
You leaned into him when you needed him and stood on your own when you didn’t.
When you kissed, it was slow. Intentional. Like you were savoring something instead of chasing it. When his hands slid to your waist or your back, you let him — trusting, steady — and when he pulled you closer, you fit like you’d always been made for him.
Sometimes you talked. Sometimes you didn’t.
Sometimes you let him rest his head against your shoulder while you traced slow, absent lines along his arm, grounding him without a word.
Sometimes he held you while you slept soundly, breathing in the clean scent of your hair. How you managed to smell so clean — so pure — in a war was beyond him.
Those nights, Babe thought he might actually survive this war.
Which scared the hell out of him.
In public, you were untouchable.
That was the hardest part.
You went back to being everyone’s nurse — Easy Company’s angel, the one who smiled at them like she meant it, who patched them up and sent them out with a squeeze to the shoulder and a quiet, “You come back, you hear me?”
Men listened when you spoke.
Even Winters.
Especially Winters.
Babe watched you move through the camp like you owned it, like the chaos bent around you instead of through you. You laughed with Guarnere. You scolded Liebgott gently. You listened to Doc Roe with the kind of respect that told Babe you understood each other.
And when you passed Babe, you didn’t touch him.
Didn’t look at him.
Didn’t so much as acknowledge him beyond a polite nod.
It made his chest ache. And it made his jealously blossom.
He didn’t miss the way Nixon teased you, the way you weren’t afraid of even Spiers. How Major Winters — a much more experienced man — paid you attention whenever you were near.
Babe Heffron was not an insecure man by no means.
But when it came to you? He knew you wanted public. You deserved that, at the very least.
So why couldn’t he do this one small thing for you?
“You’re quiet lately,” Guarnere said one afternoon, eyeing Babe over a deck of cards.
Babe shrugged. “Aren’t I always?”
“No,” Guarnere replied. “You’re usually talking enough for the both of us.”
“No, Bill, that’s you, man.” Babe didn’t miss a beat.
Liebgott glanced up from where he was leaning back in his chair, smirk already forming.
“Yeah,” Liebgott said. “You look… settled.”
Babe’s jaw tightened.
“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”
Liebgott’s eyes flicked — quick, sharp — toward you across the yard.
Babe didn’t follow his gaze.
That alone was telling.
The first time Babe realized how much keeping you secret was costing him was the night you almost didn’t meet him.
He waited longer than usual, leaning against the barn wall, hands shoved into his pockets to keep from pacing. Every shadow made his shoulders tense.
When you finally appeared, breathless and apologetic, something in him eased so hard it nearly hurt.
“Sorry,” you whispered. “Ran late. I had a meeting with Winters.”
“That’s alright,” he said immediately, swallowing his jealously and reaching for you without thinking.
He stopped himself just in time.
You noticed.
Your eyes softened, just a little.
Once you were hidden, once his hands were allowed again, he held you longer than usual. Firmer. Like he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers if he didn’t.
“You okay?” you murmured, palm resting flat against his chest.
“Yeah,” he said, too quickly.
You didn’t call him on it. You never pushed. That was part of what made you dangerous.
You leaned up, kissed his jaw, then his mouth — slow, unhurried, like you had all the time in the world.
Babe kissed you back like he was starving.
Later, when you were tucked into his side, cheek resting against his shoulder, you spoke softly.
“You ever gonna tell ‘em?”
The question hung there.
Babe stared into the dark.
“I don’t want them thinkin’ I’m takin’ advantage,” he said finally. “Or that you’re a distraction. Or—”
“—or that you’re happy,” you finished quietly.
He swallowed.
“I don’t want them puttin’ that on you,” he said. “You’re… you’re important to them.”
Your fingers stilled.
“I’m important to you too,” you said gently.
Babe turned his head, pressing his forehead to yours.
“I know.”
The problem was — he didn’t know how to let himself choose that out loud.
And he knew none of them would think he was good enough for you.
A week passed.
Then another.
And you did what you always did: you adjusted.
You kept your distance. You laughed just as easily with the others. You didn’t seek Babe out. You didn’t linger near him.
But something shifted.
He felt it in the way you stopped looking for him in a crowd.
In the way your touches became rarer, more careful.
In the way your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes when you caught him watching.
Easy Company noticed too.
“She alright?” Roe asked one night, nodding subtly toward you.
Babe frowned. “Yeah. Why?”
Roe hesitated. “She seems… tired.”
Babe watched you across the yard, standing with a small group, listening, nodding, being exactly who everyone needed you to be.
And for the first time, it occurred to him that keeping you hidden might be hurting you.
It was a cold night at the pub your company had decided to occupy for the night’s entertainment.
Babe kept his usual distance from you — the sting becoming all too familiar. You sat alone in a corner, Doc Roe keeping a watchful eye after you had said you wanted to be alone.
You were just about to slip out for the night when you had had enough of Babe’s laughter with the other men of the company, when a British officer darkened your path. You had just stood when he appeared.
“Hello, lovely.” He had spoken.
“Hi.” Short. Clipped.
You were patient.
That was the thing everyone got wrong about you — they mistook your patience for softness.
You’d been raised in the South by women who knew the difference between polite and weak, who taught you how to smile sweet while setting a boundary sharp enough to cut. You could be gracious. You could be warm.
But you did not tolerate disrespect.
And this British officer was testing every last ounce of that patience.
He’d been hovering for ten minutes too long.
You’d tried subtle first. Turning your body away. Giving short answers. Letting your smile fade into something professional and cool.
He didn’t take the hint.
“Well now,” he drawled, leaning in just a bit too close, “that’s quite the accent you’ve got for an American.”
You kept your tone even. “I get that a lot.”
“Southern, is it?” he continued, clearly pleased with himself. “Sounds almost musical.”
You stepped back. He stepped forward. One more step and he would be caging you in.
“Sir,” you said politely, “I’m not inter—.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of interrupting,” he replied, grin widening as he interrupted you. “Just enjoying the view.”
His eyes raked up and down your body, and you looked everywhere but him. Your jaw tightened.
Across the pub, Babe Heffron’s shoulders went rigid.
Joe Liebgott noticed immediately.
“Oh, you’ve gotta be kiddin’ me,” Joe muttered, setting his drink down. “Who the hell is this guy.”
Babe didn’t answer. He was watching you too closely — the way your hand curled around the table, the way your beautiful smile had completely left your face.
“The hell’s goin on?” Nixon huffed at the sight of his favorite nurse being all but pinned in by some prick officer.
“I don’t know,” Winters said, “but I don’t like it.”
Joe was already halfway to his feet.
“If this guy doesn’t quit yappin’, I’m gonna break his jaw off myself,” he growled.
Roe was on his feet now too, eyes sharp, body angled protectively toward you even from a distance.
Babe didn’t move.
Not yet.
He was wound tight — jaw clenched, fingers flexing like he was holding himself together by sheer force of will.
The officer tilted his head, clearly enjoying himself.
“I’ve heard you American girls are much easier,” he said lightly. “Less… particular.”
That did it.
You let out a slow breath through your nose.
“I don’t know who told you that,” you said, voice calm but edged in steel, “but they lied to you.”
He laughed. “Oh come now. No need to get prickly.”
“I’m not prickly,” you replied. “I’m bein’ clear.”
He leaned closer again, lowering his voice like it was a secret between the two of you.
“You should loosen up,” he said. “Might do you some good.”
He leaned even closer — if that was even possible. You briefly wondered why no one had come to your rescue yet. His hand, clammy from his drunkenness, brushed against your cheek.
“Listen,” You said, low, “you best be findin some way to get your slimey hands off of me, you tea-lovin’ bastard.”
His eyebrows shot up in surpise and he took a step back. “Huh.”
You regained your posture, ultimately deciding to push past him, but when he chuckled and his hand found your upper arm, you knew this wouldn’t end pretty.
Yanking you back towards him, nose flush to your hair, you struggled against him.
You squared your shoulders.
“Sir,” you said, southern drawl thickening, “I have told you no. Twice. You are now makin’ a scene.”
He scoffed. “Feisty. I like that.”
That was when Babe stood up.
The scrape of his chair was loud enough to turn heads.
“That’s my girl he’s droolin’ all over,” Babe said flatly.
The world stopped.
Joe’s head snapped toward him.
Guarnere’s mouth fell open.
Someone actually whispered, “Holy shit.”
Babe moved before he could think. He crossed the pub in a matter of seconds, effectively removing the bastard’s hand from your arm.
“Pardon you, sir; but-“
Babe crossed the pub in seconds, tearing the bastard’s hand off your arm.
“Pardon you, sir, but—”
“But shit, pal,” Babe snapped, voice lethal. “That’s my girl you’re pawin’ all over.”
Your brows shot up. So did everyone else’s.
“Well,” the officer sneered, “if she’s your girl, what’s she doing cozying up to me?”
“You know damn well that ain’t what was happenin’,” Babe shot back.
“Keep your whore in check next time, Yank.”
The room went dead quiet.
Babe saw red.
“Watch your mouth,” Babe growled. “Before I fuckin’ watch it for you.”
“Babe—” you started.
The officer shoved him hard.
“Don’t be so stupid, Yank—”
Babe didn’t even have time to blink.
Your fist connected with the officer’s face with a crack that echoed off the walls.
He folded instantly, clutching his nose as blood poured down his uniform.
Nixon stared in shock.
Winters looked torn between discipline and pride.
Doc Roe wasn’t surprised in the slightest.
Liebgott, Guarnere, and Talbert were already shouting encouragement like it was a prize fight.
“Don’t ever call him stupid,” you snapped, spitting on the floor at the officer’s feet. “No means no, dickhead.”
——
“WHAM!” Liebgott reenacted later with glee, Tab volunteering to play ‘dickhead British officer’ while Guarnere acted as ref.
“Guys!” you whined, rubbing a hand down your flushed face.
“That was pretty badass,” Nixon said approvingly.
Even Spiers gave you a nod.
“Solid right hook.”
Babe watched you like he’d never seen you before.
And he knew — without a doubt — there was no hiding you ever again.
The pub didn’t calm down for a long while after that.
By the time things finally settled — the British officer hauled off, drinks refreshed, laughter returning in waves — you were tucked safely back into Easy Company’s orbit like nothing in the world could touch you without permission.
Babe, on the other hand, was doomed.
He’d barely taken two steps back toward the table before Joe Liebgott let out a low whistle.
“Well,” Joe said, eyes dancing, “that’s my girl he’s droolin’ all over, huh?”
Guarnere barked a laugh. “Jesus Christ, Heffron. You plannin’ on puttin’ that on a banner or—”
“I didn’t hear no objections,” Talbert added cheerfully.
Babe froze.
You watched it happen in real time — the way his ears went red first, the way his shoulders squared like he might actually try to fight his own company.
“I was heated,” Babe muttered.
“Oh no,” Joe said, delighted. “You were claimin’ territory.”
Nixon leaned back in his chair, smirk firmly in place. “Real poetic about it too.”
Winters cleared his throat, attempting — unsuccessfully — to keep a straight face. “Effective, though.”
That earned a few nods.
Doc Roe, who had taken a seat beside you without asking, glanced over with something dangerously close to fondness.
“You okay?” Roe asked quietly.
You smiled. “I’m just fine.”
Joe snapped his fingers. “Hey, Doc — you hear that?”
Roe hummed. “Heard the whole thing.”
Babe groaned. “Christ.”
Guarnere leaned forward, elbows on the table. “So… your girl, huh?”
Babe shot him a look. “Drop it.”
You chose that moment to speak up.
“Oh, I don’t know,” you said lightly, southern drawl soft but unmistakably smug. “I thought it was sweet.”
Dead silence.
Babe’s head snapped toward you.
You met his eyes, smile slow, wicked, unrepentant.
Joe lost it.
“Oh my God,” he wheezed. “She liked it.”
“She loved it,” Guarnere corrected.
Babe scrubbed a hand down his face. “You’re all insufferable.”
“And yet,” Nixon said, lifting his glass toward you, “somehow she picked you.”
You clinked your glass against his. “Life’s full of surprises.”
Roe leaned closer, voice low. “For what it’s worth, Heffron — about damn time.”
Babe exhaled, shaking his head, but when he looked at you again, there was no embarrassment left.
Just pride.
Just relief.
Just the quiet, steady certainty that came from finally saying something out loud and surviving it.
You reached for his hand under the table — not hiding this time.
His fingers curled around yours instantly.
Joe clocked it and pointed. “Oh, don’t think we didn’t see that.”
Babe didn’t even bother denying it.
“Yeah,” he said simply. “She’s mine.”
You squeezed his hand once.
“Easy, Philly,” you teased softly. “You’re gonna give ‘em somethin’ else to talk about.”
Joe raised his glass again. “Too late.”
And Babe Heffron, surrounded by noise and laughter and the woman he loved sitting right there beside him, decided he didn’t mind one bit.
HEYY could u write hcs for babe please?? ^_^ btw i love ur writing so much, i always enjoy reading all ur stuff!! <3
a/n: YESS absolutely I love Babe <3 like if I could marry anyone I’d marry him. and THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! I love when people enjoy my work :) thank you for the request!!
solely based on the band of brothers hbo show
warnings: slight mentions of nsfw (hardly)
Babe Heffron HC’s
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
• Babe is the kind of guy who falls first without even realizing it. like it sneaks up on him. maybe you’re laughing at something Luz says, buttoning your coat, fixing your hair
• but once he realizes it? oh he can’t get you out of his head
• if I had to pick the perfect trope for Babe? it would be friends to lovers or just straight up love at first sight.
• he’d flirt in an easy, cocky kind of way. kinda stupid at times but it makes you laugh so it works for him
• he’s so physically affectionate. like a little hand brushing here and there, his hand at your back, around your chair
• he is so protective, too. but not in an overbearing way.
• like God help whoever is mean or off putting towards you. Babe will handle that immediately
• he’s definitely the type to get attached quick. like there’s no slowburn with him, it’s all in from the start
• I think since he’s so big and confident with a lot, he would be the type to struggle with serious emotions. I know we saw him emotional over Julien’s death, but I think after that he was a different man. more serious.
• ALSO?? jealous Babe??
• he would be so painfully obvious and the guys would most definitely poke fun at him over it.
• but he would try to play it cool and fail miserably
• I think overall, being loved by Babe Heffron would be fun and exciting but also very secure in knowing he’s all about you and only you
• you mention that you like something once in passing? he remembers every detail about you like it’s nothing.
• includes you in everything.
• his friends would be so sick of hearing about you and how perfect you are let’s be real
• he’d absolutely have a weakness for seeing you in any of his shirts
• your biggest hype man. literally the definition of best friend AND boyfriend in one
• lowkey i think Babe would have a hard time if your relationship wasn’t public knowledge because of rank or whatever else
• he’d be pulling you into the nearest closet and going to town
• a vocal man.
• also you get to be a pillow princess!
• also Babe thinks he’s so discreet but he’s … not?? like at all
• his emotions are written all over his face. like he’s staring at you, glaring at another man for getting to close to you, snaps at Luz after he makes you laugh too hard one time.
• making you laugh is Babe’s job in his mind
• as soon as people could know about yall, he’s proposing.
