I just made this random chart for all my pookies to understand my type in men
For the memo I find them all fuckable and even datable even the ones in looks more than personality it's just my personal chart to organize things and see with ho I correspond more.
Back with my nurse trope as always! No description of reader, apart from she’s fem!
I haven’t written for the pacific or sledge before so I apologise if it’s ooc! minors doi talks of sex, mainly a heavy makeout session, some touching- Snafu makes an appearance - half proof read so might not make sense lol😇
“Gene!” The sound of your sweet voice was a reminder of reality that Eugene didn’t even realise he needed- well, perhaps he did, considering you were all he thought about. Through the horrors and brutality of war, he almost forgot such softness could exist until you appeared again.
Eugene Sledge truly believed he wouldn’t make it back off the line, that he didn’t deserve to survive either, let alone have you stood awaiting his arrival. His chest clenched, breath audibly catching in a way that made Snafu roll his eyes.
“Love sick, Sledgehammer.” He reminded, offering the young man a tough shove in your direction. Gene didn’t see the smirk Snafu hadn’t bothered biting back, and judging by the way you were grinning ear to ear you hadn’t either, that or you had ignored it- which you’d learnt to do around Gene’s friend.
“Hi.” You giggled again, your laughter a foreign sound to a marines ears. For a moment, he questioned how you were still stood there, if he had misjudged and you were yelling to some other Gene, one that wasn’t tarnished by the cruelty and perturbation of war. Then, you moved closer, brows knotting in confusion, the scent of your shampoo and something kinder meeting his nostrils.
Gene blinked, once, twice, before realising you were real. He reached, a hand meeting your own, before glancing down and realising the way he was tarnishing your clean skin with the grime covered layer of his own hand. Snatching it back, an apology left his mouth before he could register you had reached out again.
“It’s okay.” You hummed, offering him yet another smile. Genes breath increased, his body beginning to melt in a manner that felt unknown in his own body. Relaxation? Excitement? Something that wasn’t pure combat-fuelled adrenaline. With you, it was like he was home.
Hours later, Eugene had scrubbed his body red raw, changing into half clean fatigues that you had subsequently rested your head against the minute you arrived on the beach.
His legs were spread beneath you, Eugene leaning back staring across the lapping waves whilst you rested on his lap, watching up to the red-headed man. Every minute or so, Gene would glance down- just to check you were there, to see if you were real. His touch never left you, a hand steadied over your chest as he felt the calm rise and fall of your breathing. How did he ever deserve this-
“My ma wrote me. She said things are already looking up in the states. She’s had a whole vacation to Los Angeles- can you believe that?”
Eugene watched back down to you, your fingers curling beneath his. “A vacation?” Admittedly, he hadn’t even processed your words.
“Mmmh.” Your eyes held for a moment until you rolled off him, kneeling at his side. You looked at him now, really looked. You were no stranger to the exhaustion these men carried, the way they seemed to age so rapidly yet seem so young- burdened yet reduced to childlike fear from the trauma of war.
Your fingers trailed up his cheek, at the same time the cover of your shirt had slipped, revealing the darkened skin of your chest, a place which your bikini had not covered. Eugene’s first reaction was to reach and cover your modesty, protect you from prying eyes, but it seemed the only person within a hundred-meter radiance was him. His hand failed to shift, as did his gaze. Of course you had noticed where his eyes trailed to, but you failed to point it out, you didn’t want to spook him now, not when it took this long for him to open up to you.
Although, you weren't exactly subtle in the way your gaze fell to his plump lips, pouty and parted, like he was struggling between staying silent or speaking a million words. Gene noticed this, how your eyes gazed over his features, lingering on his mouth in a manner that made his skin ignite. For a moment, he thought the evening sun might've set him on goddamn fire, but it was just his body burning under your gaze.
Such immoral thoughts crossed his mind, quicker than he could control- he ought to feel ashamed for feeling such sinful things about you, but how could he lie to himself, starve himself of the one thing he needed out here. He wanted you. Irrevocably, ferally, desperately. Eugene Sledge felt like a man in heat, and for the first time, he didn't think to feel any shame for it, not when you were watching him with such lust in your eyes.
As the silence grew thicker between you both, Gene momentarily panicked he'd misread your intentions, that he'd stepped too far, began to think in a way that was disrespectful. His eyes fell, but quickly snapped back up to see the fabric of your shirt slipping down your shoulders. The marine lost control of his ability not to stare, because now he was raking up every inch of your exposed skin, memorising each freckle, even the ones that begun to disappear beneath the edge of your bikini top. He continued to ravish you with his eyes, moving in closer, only for a moment until his eyes averted back your face. He had just realised he was staring at your breasts for completely too long.
For the first time in a long time, Eugene Sledge was focused on something other than warfare and violence. The blood and sand poisoning his brains had momentarily been cured, and you were the perfect antidote for that. The tightness of his fatigue bottoms grew too much, manhood standing tall and hardened for you, straining in his trousers. His breath was half laboured, hands beginning to reach out for you, he truly had nothing to lose.
''Kiss me.'' His voice was quick, muttered, almost going missed by you.
“What?” You softly asked, taken aback by his sudden display of forwardness. Gene cupped your jaw and neck with one of his hands, touch gentle, despite his eagerness to be kissed.
''Please just kiss me.'' His voice became needy, bordering on pathetic, but it was the most attractive thing you had ever witnessed. Your smile broke, hands reaching out for him, touching him in a way he could only have dreamt about back in Guadalcanal. One skim of your fingertips over his skin and he was gone.
Your lips slotted perfectly together, your grin making it difficult at first, but the tighter his grip became the more tension grew inside your body. Butterflies erupted, swarming your abdomen, and a warmth between your legs spread instantly when Gene had kissed you. Your lips moved together at a generous pace, as Gene's hand came to push your waist closer to him. It wasn't pushy, nor was it exactly dominant, you could feel his need for comfort, for human touch and love, and you were more than willing to give him that.
You could feel his body against yours, how worked up he was getting, how hot his skin was, how heavy handed he became when your tongues swirled. The thought of Gene being just as turned on by a kiss alone as you were was gratifying. For a few short moments, the two of you were making out on the beach, lips slapping together obnoxiously, and hands skimming areas that were not so PG. It was only when you felt the huff of him against you, a probable realisation that you were in public, did you decide to make a move.
''Gene.'' Your lips parted from his, cheeks heated. ''I know some place.'' The marine was nodding before you could even finish your sentence. ''Alright.'' He nodded, attempting to remain cool despite the need surging through his body. The marine offered you a hand off the floor, allowing you to then lead the way in which he had to bite back a grin. Gene felt he was the luckiest man alive. His pulse raced, manhood throbbed, and his legs turned to jelly as you weaved through the area to what looked to be a supply tent. Normally, Gene might’ve turned red in the face, felt all bashful that he was about to take you in some tent. But extreme circumstances called for extreme measures, and Gene was sick and tired of waiting. He wanted you then and there.
Maybe if you had more time he would’ve been a gentleman, at least laid down a sheet for you both, but the best he could muster was perching you on his lap and continuing the steamy make out session from there. He was so close to getting more, fingers nervously lingering on the buttons of your uniform. “It’s okay, you can take it off.” You hushed, earning a quick nod from Gene whose fingers were trembling with anticipation.
You knew Gene had been a virgin. This was to be his first time, a part of you worried it wouldn’t be special enough, but this was all you had to offer. Gene, on the other hand, seemed perfectly prepared to figure out how to make everything work, as long as you were alright with it. By the time he had unbuttoned half way down your dress, he grew distracted again when your hand had shifted to the bulge in his trousers.
All you had done was run a palm over his manhood, testing the waters as his hands gripped over your waist. Gene broke back, looking at you once, pupils blown and lips puffy. ''Is this alright?'' He checked as your smile grew again, easing any nerves that existed prior.
''Yeah. Are you- are you alright?'' You had checked, earning a kiss to be planted upon your lips. ''I'm good.'' He was more than good, he was on cloud fucking nine. His face retreated to your neck, nuzzling himself away as he worked on kissing and nipping your skin between heavy pants escaping his lips. You were really touching him now, rubbing him through his trousers in a manner that made him want to release there and then. If you went any faster he swore he'd blow it entirely too soon.
And when you talked? Your voice raspy and breathy from the enjoyment of his lips trailing up and down your skin. ''Does it feel good, Gene?'' The sound of his name in such a sensual manner, it made his manhood twitch and he had to tense to maintain composure, nodding with something between a groan and a whine catching in his throat.
''Oh, you feel so bi-''
''-Well if I ain't seen it with my own two eyes I'd never believe it!''
There was a brief scuffle between you and Gene, a panic as a gasp ripped from your throat, hand knocking against Gene's in a frantic attempt to cover your modesty. Whatever euphoria Gene was close to experiencing was ripped away, hands grabbing at you in a protective manner, fingers clamping over your uniform in a desperate attempt to pull it back together. Your heads spun in direction of the intruder, lips parting in shock to see it was none other than Snafu.
Gene felt a frustration like no other pass through him, an anger combined with something more disappointing as he looked back to his friend. Snafu stood with a shit eating grin, borderline laughing as he stared back to you both.
''Sounded like it was getting hot.''
Gene spoke slow, half measured, but only because it was you he was with. ''Snafu. Get-the fuck- out.''
''Did I ruin the moment?''
''I told you to get the fuck out!'' Sledge repeated again, earning yet another laugh from Snafu who finally turned away. Eyes falling back to the ground as he shook his head in amusement. ''Sorry nurse.'' He held out a hand, avoiding looking at you as you rose to your feet, beginning to button up your uniform, back turned to Snafu. Your eyes widened, face half disgruntled, somewhere between amusement and humiliation as Gene let out a gentle breath. Why couldn't he just have you all to himself out here?
''Gunny needs you, Sledge.'' Snafu eventually spat out whatever it was he needed. Eugene had to try his best to not roll his eyes, instead glancing up to where you offered him a sympathetic smile. Snafu finally turned his back, heading out, but not before making yet another shit eating comment.
''I don't know why he couldn't wait five minutes. I doubt you'd take that long anyway.''
Turning to Gene, you offered him a playful eye roll, fingers moving to graze over his cheekbone. ''Maybe next time, Gene?'' Your voice was light, teasing, Eugene paused for the moment on trying to tuck his shirt in, standing to his feet in a bid to give you just one more kiss.
''I'll come find you after? I'll be quick, whatever he needs doing.'' He enjoyed the sound of your amusement, even if it was at his expense.
''Okay.. I'll be waiting, Gene. You know where to find me.''
''Yes I do.'' Eugene Sledge took off like a man on a mission, and despite all interruptions, there was no way he could ever get rid of the grin that lingered over his cheeks. With an extra pep in his walk, Snafu smirked in the direction of his friend, borderline feeling like a proud elder brother- even if he had just completely destroyed the moment...
Ok I had some thoughts about The Pacific and Band of Brothers boys x female reader, divorce edition.
Snafu Shelton: Unhinged ex. Doesn’t take the divorce proceedings very well. Absolutely crashes out, with fierce arguments in broken English and Cajun French. It’s not a even about the money or materials. You’re his woman, no ifs and buts about it, so the fact that you didn’t agree with that anymore is beyond jarring. Will binge drink and fist fight people in utter stupor. Has horrible coping mechanisms, especially when he’s served papers. Will try to get you to sleep with him regardless, because this hardheaded man thinks that’s the best way to show you that he still loves you.
Eugene Sledge: Will try to understand what went wrong. But he just doesn’t get it. Arguments are strained and full of tears, then utter silence. He tries to write you a series of letters when you move back to your parents’ place. When you set your boundaries, even though he hates them, he will respect your wishes to keep away. Divorce goes unnervingly smooth. How toxic are you to think that you wanted him to fight for you harder?
Joe Toye: So it’s like that. All that effort, and you want to walk away. You promised that you’d stay with him forever when you stated your wedding vows. No, he doesn’t believe in divorce as a devout Catholic. He’ll fight for it. The marriage. He’ll fight for everything, but you sob out that where was this attitude the whole time, when he was shutting you out with the memories of the war that plagued his mind? It’s going to be a challenge to divorce him, as you’re going to have to go through the church to do so.
Lewis Nixon: You’re just like the rest. Like the rest of the women who leave him. After all he provides for you, the cars, money, houses, status. But you shoot back that you want true love, you want to love and be loved in return. What did all those fancy things mean when you have an unfaithful husband who drinks himself to death every night? The arguments are ugly, along with the divorce proceedings. Hell, you soon find out the case is dismissed. Lewis apparently isn’t above getting dirty with the law to prevent you from leaving.
Dick Winters: He’s the one that got away. To be honest, maybe it’s you who was wrong. He was a gentleman about the whole thing, hearing your frustrations, how you said that nothing could change your mind. He held your hand one last time, prayed for you one last time, and apologized for not being a proper husband. He gave you the house and your favorite car without argument. And now, you’re free, single still, because no man, you find out, can ever be close to what Dick is as a man.
Ron Speirs: You needed to divorce him. You’re sorry. But you can’t. He may have been a good soldier, leader, and man. But as a husband…He couldn’t give you the emotional connection you needed, the love that you wanted. You didn’t want to be in a gilded cage, known for being an infamous soldier’s wife, married to a man devoted more to war than you and the family you wanted. He said nothing the whole time. You wish he did. You wish he at least said he wanted all his treasures, things that you knew he loved. But he said he’d collected all of those things for you. And now that aren’t going to be there, you can keep them all. Keep them, including the wedding rings. You divorce Ron while he’s away at Korea, with only a final apology letter arriving too late.
A/N: Merry Christmas @iceman-kazansky!! I literally squealed when I saw I got you as my giftee! I loved your prompts, and I hope you like what I did with them!! I'm going to post one gift per day so that they'll be a little spaced out! hbo owns the rights, and this is about the fictional portrayal of k company on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!
Prompt: “You always see the good in people. Even me.”
Word Count: 5.7k
Summary: When Gene can only see himself as the terrible things he's done in the war, (y/n) is right there to remind him who he really is.
Warnings: descriptions of dead bodies (non-graphic)
OKINAWA, JAPAN: MAY, 1945:
The ground beneath their boots trembled, and the deafening whistles of mortars filled the air as (y/n) and the rest of K Company ran for cover. They sunk into the muddy sludge below them, turning each step into a battle against the sucking earth. Gripping her corpsman pack with white knuckles, (y/n) followed Gene, not daring to stop in the barrage.
“They have us targeted!” Burgie yelled, hurdling over a giant boulder in his path. “Get to cover!”
Just as (y/n) ran past the remnants of a demolished shed, a sudden blast threw her violently to the ground, sending a cascade of mud in all directions. Her ears rang with disorientation as she blinked slowly, struggling to regain her senses. The ringing faded into a muffled whine and a face appeared in (y/n)‘s vision. Although the figure’s face was blurred, she knew it was Eugene. His mouth moved rapidly, but she couldn’t understand a word he said. Realizing this, he quickly grasped the front of her uniform and hoisted her to her feet, throwing an arm around her waist to keep her upright as they bolted for cover.
Reaching the rocks, (y/n)‘s hearing slowly faded back, and the sounds of booming artillery reached her ears.
Sledge pulled on her arm, helping her over the rugged terrain. “Come on. We’re almost there!”
Finally reaching the safety of cover, the company continued farther into the rocks to escape the barrage. Snafu was in front of them and on the verge of a panicked breakdown.
“This is bullshit!” he cried, plopping down on a rock. “If I ever find the FO that called that arty, I’ll shoot him!”
Gene maintained his hold on (y/n) as he led them toward a big rock, his frustration evident. “They’ll just do it again,” he huffed, gritting his teeth. “All because some asshole officer read a map wrong and nobody gives a shit about us!”
After he sat (y/n) on the boulder beside Snafu, Eugene took a deep breath and sank beside her. He turned to the dazed woman beside him, her once white corpsman armband a brown and muddy mess. “You alright?” he asked her, knowing even he himself wasn’t alright after what happened before the shelling.
The woman and her baby…
(Y/n) nodded slowly, her eyes rising from the ground to meet his. ”Yeah. Just got my bell rung. I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?” Sledge persisted.
“Yes, Gene. I’m okay,” she murmured wearily, rubbing her eyes. “Really.”
Removing her helmet, she threaded her fingers through her (y/h/c) hair, wincing at the dried mud that pulled at the roots. Over their time on the dreadful island, they all discovered that the jungle was just as much an enemy as the Japs.
Snafu stared wide-eyed at the ground below him, hands on his head as his chest heaved. His expression was the same one that each marine wore as they grappled with the massacre they’d just witnessed.
What country uses its own civilians as shields for a surprise attack?
As a corpsman, (y/n) had seen more death than the average marine, and after the fierce fighting on the islands of Peleliu and Pavuvu, she was struggling to remain afloat in the vast ocean of numbness that threatened to drown her. The only thing keeping her above water were her boys, the men of K Company: Sledge, Snafu, Burgin, and De L’eau, although Jay had been transferred to intelligence. They’d lost so many good men, and it made her even more thankful for the guys who had always been there for her.
“Corpsman up front!”
The call snapped (y/n) from her thoughts, and she quickly rose, momentarily losing her balance until a strong hand grasped her upper arm, holding her steady. She felt the warmth of his hand through her thin ODs as he held her in place, accompanied by a blush creeping up her neck.
“(Y/n)-” Gene started.
Shrugging him off gently, she turned toward the call. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
“Be careful,” he whispered after her, watching her form disappear into a sea of olive-green uniforms. With another deep breath, Sledge sat back down, trying to calm his still-racing heart. She had been right behind him…until she wasn’t. Panic had gripped him when he saw her motionless figure in the mud as the artillery rained down around them. When she opened her eyes, he felt a weight lift off his chest.
Rain drenched the marines through the night as they held their position looking up to the ridge. Around 2000HRS the next day, (y/n) trudged back to her squad, eyelids heavy with exhaustion. Dried blood clung to her cracked hands, refusing to wash away, no matter how many times she’d scrubbed them raw. The casualties were unending like the rain that constantly poured on them. Luckily, the downpour had come to a stop in the early morning.
She’d been at the BAS since the previous afternoon treating and evacuating wounded marines from the already bloody battle. Continued artillery and fire throughout the day brought a steady stream of bleeding men through the tent’s entrance. One of these men had been Bill Leyden. He wasn’t in good shape, and when (y/n) saw the damage on her friend’s body, the air rushed from her lungs. After pushing away the panic, she quickly helped other corpsmen stabilize him, before sending him off to a hospital ship. As she watched him go, her heart sank at the realization the company had lost another man…another friend.
“Hey Doc,” Snafu called out gently as she approached.
She looked up from her feet at the man with a tired smile. “Hey, Snaf,” she whispered. “You seen Gene?”
Motioning over his shoulder, Snafu replied, “He’s right over there. But, Bill…“
“Yeah,” she sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We got him stabilized. He should make a full recovery. Lost a few fingers, though.”
In a trance-like state, Snafu nodded, his gaze fixed ahead. It was something they all did. A way to escape the horrors they lived through. With a gentle squeeze of his shoulder, (y/n) moved to find Sledge, but the Cajun’s voice stopped her.
“Eugene. He got a letter…his dog died.”
She turned to face him with raised brows. “Deacon?”
“I guess,” the man nodded. “I think he’s bothered more than he’s letting on. You know how Eugene is.”
“Yeah. I’ll talk to him.”
She found him staring into space ahead of him as he sat up against one of the island’s many rocks. Before she approached, (y/n) simply watched the man before her. She could see his growing stubble and the mud that splattered his cheeks, but what worried her was the blank expression on his face. She longed to see the lopsided smile that used to hang from his lips. (Y/n) didn’t know how long it had been since she’d seen that smile…too long.
Pulling her satchel off her shoulder, she quietly approached him and slouched down beside him. They sat silently for a moment, the warmth of their touching shoulders spreading through them. Gene was the first to break the silence.
“Did you see Bill?” he asked quietly, his eyes still glued on the rocks in front of him.
(Y/n) nodded, looking up at him with a small smile. “Yeah, he’s gonna be okay.”
Gene leaned his head back against the ground with a thud, his eyes closed as a shuttering sigh escaped his lips. She sat up off the rock and turned toward him, gently taking his hand.
“I’m sorry about Deacon.”
The second her fingers intertwined with his, Sledge’s heartbeat accelerated, and the man felt heat spread through his body. He took a moment to compose himself before he opened his eyes. He looked down at their intertwined hands before meeting her concerned gaze.
In that moment, Eugene could have sworn she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. It didn’t matter that she was coated in blood, mud, and sweat. She was there for him like nobody else had ever been in his whole life. Sure, he was close with his parents, but he felt they never completely understood him.
Who’d have thought that he’d have to travel almost eight thousand miles to find someone who could do so?
Eugene’s eyes flashed down to her lips, unable to control himself as their closeness made him suddenly bold. He always wondered what they’d taste like. How they’d feel against his. They were chapped, just like everyone else's, but that didn’t matter. The young man wanted a way to show her how much she meant to him. Sure, there had been moments where he told himself he was going to kiss her, but the moment ended before he had the opportunity. Something in the moment felt wrong, though, and he decided to wait once more.
“Thank you,” he whispered, swallowing thickly as he tried to regain his composure and keep the memories of his beloved dog at bay. “He was a good dog.”
“How old was he? 10? 11?”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “10.”
The woman’s eyes searched his face, trying to get a read of what he needed from her. She saw pain in his hazel eyes. Pain from the loss of Bill. Pain from the loss of Deacon. Pain caused by the war.
She decided he needed some hope. Some laughter.
“Did I tell you about the time Snaf and I almost got caught stealing from an Army captain?”
Later that day, Gene and the rest of his squad sat among the rocks, each lost in their mind. (Y/n) was beside him, writing in her journal, and they were doing the same…all except Peck, who was attempting to dig a foxhole in the soaked ground. Since the day they arrived on the wretched island, Sledge kept up with how many days they spent there with tallies in the back of his Bible. With the days running together, they rarely knew what day it was or how long they’d been there.
“What’s the date?” Burgie asked, putting down his small journal.
The group turned to Gene, who took a deep breath. “June 5th, maybe. Might be the 6th.” He turned to (y/n). “(Y/n/n), which one you got?”
“I have no idea,” she sighed. “I gave up keeping track a while ago.”
Peck decided to chime in as he dug. “We’re never getting off this island.”
Everyone was thinking it, but he was the one person who dared to speak it aloud.
(Y/n) rolled her eyes, glancing over at Gene with an annoyed expression. If looks could kill, Peck would be six feet deep from the redhead’s glare. His jaw clenched tightly, and his chest began to heave as he stared at the replacement.
Sensing his rising anger, (y/n) reached over and placed a hand on his thigh. His eyes moved to meet hers, and her (y/e/c) irises seemed to whisper, ”He’s not worth it,” and, “It’s okay. I’m here.”
Gene took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down. Beating the crap out of Peck wouldn’t bring Bill back, and letting anger consume you was a dangerous game. Every time he was tempted to let it in, (y/n) was right there, a soft presence telling him that hate was not the answer. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted daily. Sledge had seen what men could do to each other. He had seen what the Japs did to his friends.
Looking away from Gene, she was met with a strange stare from Snafu, who was smoking a cigarette and sitting on their makeshift toilet. His gaze was questioning, but not criticizing. When the man’s eyes drifted down to her hand, her stomach dropped, and she felt like she was caught red-handed. (Y/n) quickly removed her hand from Gene’s leg and shot to her feet.
“I’m gonna go-uh-do some rounds,” she announced, not daring to look at Gene or Snafu.
A few seconds later, she went treading through the sludge, her corpsman satchel pressed tightly to her side. The men all watched in confusion as she left, unsure what had made her so jumpy all of a sudden.
“She alright?” Hamm asked once she’d disappeared from view.
Burgie, always an observer, glanced over at Sledge to watch his reaction. He looked somewhat like a kicked puppy. Wrapping up his Bible, Gene began to tuck it into his pocket without a word.
“Don’t worry about (y/n), Hamm,” Burgie replied with a nod.
Hamm raised an eyebrow at his sergeant. “But did you see her-”
“She’s fine,” Snafu interrupted, pulling up his pants and rejoining the group. “Besides, she’s already got someone to worry about her.”
At the statement, Eugene froze, a cold chill running through him despite the heat. A million thoughts ran rampant in his mind.
Is there someone else in her life?
Does he know something I don’t?
Does he know how I feel?
Groaning, Burgie smacked the Cajun’s shoulder. “Shut up, Snaf. Don’t go starting crap.”
The sergeant first noticed the bond between Sledge and (y/n) back in training, but especially when the company landed on Peleliu. They always stuck by one another when they could, and she seemed to help calm the Marine amid his anxiety. As time went on and their relationship changed, Romus knew they had feelings for one another, even if they didn’t admit it. He’d never spoken about it to anyone, fearing it could become a rumor that would possibly get the pair in trouble if they ever acted on their feelings. Hearing Snafu insinuate something between them sent a pang of panic through him.
“We all worry about (y/n),” he continued. “But she’s a great corpsman. She can hold her own.”
Before he could finish his sentence, Eugene rose to his feet and went to take a leak. He did have to relieve himself, but he also wanted to get away from the conversation. If Snafu knew about how he felt, the man would never stop tormenting him. Even if it was in a joking way, Gene didn’t want to be the subject of Shelton’s teasing.
Just as he made it to a somewhat secluded spot, he heard Mac’s voice ring out from above him.
“I need a stovepipe boy up top!” he yelled, coming down from the ridge.
Gene slightly ducked his head behind a rock, hoping the lieutenant would miss him. To his dismay, Mac caught his movement in the corner of his eye.
“Sledge, that’s you. Bring some comm wire.”
Sighing when his superior disappeared over the ridge, he muttered, “Yes, sir,” and went to follow his orders.
The stench of excrement and death permeated the air as (y/n) walked through their temporary camp checking on the men. Her eyes watered from the smell, and it took all her willpower not to gag. Even though she’d built a great tolerance to gruesome sights and smells over her time as a corpsman, sometimes it all got to her.
Snafu’s stare replayed in her mind, and she hoped that she didn’t accidentally give herself away to the group. Worry buzzed in her stomach like the disgusting flies that seemed to be ever-present among the mud and filth of Okinawa. (Y/n) tried to busy her mind with the long list of men to check on, but she couldn’t focus more than a few moments before getting lost in her head again.
Spotting a man on her list, she called out to him.
“Hey, James,” she greeted, approaching his muddy foxhole. “How’s the ankle?”
He groaned and shook his head. “As good as it’s gonna be, Doc.”
In the barrage the day prior, the private slipped and rolled his ankle in the mud trying to get to cover. He insisted he was fine, but some of his squadmates sent (y/n) to check on him. Henry James was a stubborn young man who wasn’t even old enough to drink, yet he was on a foreign island in Southeast Asia fighting for his country…fighting to survive. She crouched beside his hole, inspecting the ankle that was elevated above the entrance.
“Were you able to stay off it much?” (y/n) asked, gently prodding the bruised skin.
“A buddy of mine took my OP shift so I didn’t have to walk around on it. It’s more stiff than anything.”
“Yeah,” she sighed. “That’s how ankles are. They’re tough-”
Her voice came to a stop as yelling filled the air. It wasn’t cheers of victory or anything of that nature. They were cries of attack…of desperation…of death. The second the sound registered in her mind, she was darting toward the ridge, hoping to get there before the shooting started in case someone got hit. The rapid beating of her heart filled her ears as she ran through the mud and past battle-weary marines. A few of them called out to her, but she didn’t hear them.
The first ping of an M-1 being fired echoed through the air as she made it to the base of the rocky ridge. Cursing under her breath, she quickly began her ascent. Finding the most solid footing, she climbed the hill, using the jagged rocks as handholds. Gunfire filled the air, silencing the screams of the enemy. (Y/n) was out of breath when she made it to the top, but she didn’t stop. Most of the fire had stopped, but a few shots still rang out.
At the moment the corpsman reached the other marines at the top of the ridge, her heart sank at the sight of Eugene unholstering his revolver and aiming at a wounded Jap.
“Cease fire!” Mac cried from the other side of the ridge. “Cease fire!”
Gene didn’t care.
“Damn, Sledge. Leave him,” Hamm muttered to the redhead.
Whipping around to face him, Eugene scowled. “What for? He’s a Jap, ain’t he?”
(Y/n) watched in horror as Gene opened fire on the man already wallowing in the mud. He missed the first two shots, but the third hit its mark, hitting the Jap just above his hip. The soldier sunk into the mud face down, his writhing coming to an end.
“Cease fire!” The Lieutenant repeated as he neared them. “Cease fire, damn it!”
Satisfied with his work, Sledge grabbed his rifle from beside Hamm and turned to descend the ridge. When he noticed (y/n) a few yards away, he froze for a moment, his eyes resembling a dark storm cloud that could start down pouring any second. Guilt seemed to cloud his usual hazel eyes, and he looked away, unable to stay steady beneath her gaze after what he’d just done. He then continued down the ridge.
Mac was quick to confront him, gripping his carbine in one hand with white knuckles.
“I told you to cease fire. What are you doing?”
The private spun to face Mac with gritted teeth.“Killing Japs,” he seethed, turning to go down the hill again.
Before he could get far, the lieutenant spoke again. “You just gave away our position!”
“I think they’ve got a pretty good idea of where we are,” Gene chuckled bitterly.
Mac pointed toward the dead Japs. “I told you to cease fire. You’re supposed to be observing, and then I see you with a damn sidearm!
“We were all sent here to kill Japs, weren’t we?” Sledge screamed, climbing back up to be nose-to-nose with his lieutenant. “So what the hell difference does it make what weapon we use?”
(Y/n) couldn’t help but flinch at Gene’s sudden outburst. She’d never seen him like this before, and she wondered what made him finally break. What was the straw that broke the camel’s back? What had happened in the five minutes she was gone?
A tear streaked down her cheek seeing the man she cared about more than anything giving in to the war. Seeing a man be reduced to a shell of who he once was was always heartbreaking, and (y/n) didn’t realize just how much until she witnessed him finally crack.
“I’d use my damn hands if I had to,” he whispered to a frozen Mac, who clenched his jaw and slowly walked past him. (Y/n) was quick to try and follow Gene once he stormed down the hill, but a gentle hand on her shoulder held her back.
It was Burgin, his face scrunched with concern. “Let ‘em cool off, (y/n/n).”
“Romus, he-”
“I know what he means to you,” he interrupted in a whisper as he glanced around them for any eavesdroppers. “But trust me. You need to leave him be for a little bit. Let him think.”
(Y/n) swallowed thickly. “Please don’t tell anyone, Burgie. I could be-”
“Your secret’s safe with me…He needs you, (y/l/n), but give him a few hours.”
Releasing a shuddering breath, her gaze dropped to the ground. “He was fine when I left. What happened?”
“I don’t know. But we did hear him hollering about something right before he went up top.”
“Thanks for everything, Burg,” she sighed, patting his shoulder softly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you and the guys.”
A sheepish smile grew on his face, and he chuckled under his breath. “You’d be a lot more ladylike, that’s for sure. The other day, I’m pretty sure I saw you smoking Sledge’s pipe.”
“Whatever,” she groaned, rubbing a hand down her dirty face. “A lot of women actually smoke, ya know?”
The rest of the afternoon did not go according to (y/n)‘s plan, and she was unable to check on Gene after he cooled down. Within an hour of his outburst, she was called back to the field hospital to assist in an all-hands-on-deck emergency following a Jap ambush. The corpsman was up to her elbows in blood, bowels, and every other bodily fluid from vomit to urine. It was a hard night, and it got even worse when a terrible rainstorm moved in, trapping her from returning to her company due to poor visibility.
(Y/n) spent the night, and most of the next day, helping around the hospital. She dressed wounds, administered pain meds, and helped transport men to the hospital ships on a Jeep. A radio call was received that told of the 1st Marine’s plans to take the ridge, and (y/n) knew she needed to be there.
She caught a ride to the ridge just in time for the assault. The men were checking their weapons and quietly conversing with each other as she walked through the various companies. When she reached her squad, however, silence filled the air. They all had thousand-yard stares, and the group was missing two guys who had been there the day before. Her pace slowed as she approached them.
“Hey, guys,” (y/n) said softly, her eyes flicking from man to man. When none of them acknowledged her, she knew something bad had happened. “Where’s Hamm and Peck?”
Silence.
She took a deep breath, trying not to imagine the worst. “Please, guys, whe-”
“Gone,” Gene interrupted harshly, his gaze snapping to hers. “Hamm's dead and Peck’s gone. He cracked.”
(Y/n) felt the all-too-familiar punch of grief knock the air from her lungs. Eugene’s hazel eyes were dark and stormy, even more so than the previous day. She swallowed thickly, attempting to push down the emotion that clogged her throat.
“What happened?” she asked shakily, her eyes never leaving Gene’s.
Before he could respond, Snafu spoke. “Doesn’t matter. They’re gone.”
“Shelton’s right,” Burgin added. “It’s hard, but we’ve got other things to focus on.”
(Y/n) nodded once and dropped her gaze to the group, blinking away the tears that burned her eyes. Two more of their group were gone. Sure, Peck wasn’t her favorite person by any means, but he was still part of their company….on their side. And Hamm…he was a kid. A kid who deserved better than to die in the mud on some foreign island.
They all deserved better.
“Let’s move out!” Mac announced, waving for them to follow.
Each man followed suit, but Eugene hung back to wait on (y/n). Seeing her tear-filled eyes, he instantly regretted opening his mouth. The anger within him seemed to dissipate momentarily as he joined her side.
“Remember, you’ve got a bullseye on your arm,” he murmured, gesturing to the red and white medic brassard on her arm. “Please be careful.”
“I will.” (Y/n) lifted her helmet to look up at him through her lashes. “You take care of yourself, too, alright?”
“Yes ma’am,” he whispered, admiring her features. His eyes trailed from her eyes down to her nose, and then to her lips before flicking back to her (y/e/c) eyes. They stayed locked in each other’s gaze for a few moments, their eyes seeming to have a silent conversation communicating everything that was left unsaid. Gene slowly reached up to cup her cheek, rubbing his thumb over her cheekbone. The racing of (y/n)‘s heart wasn’t from the artillery that had begun hammering the ridge, but Eugene’s warm caress against her cheek. Her eyes fluttered closed at the gentle touch.
They both wished the moment could last forever.
Another yell from Mac shattered the moment, leaving (y/n) missing the tenderness of his hand in its absence.
“I’ll find you after,” he said, turning around and backpedaling to catch up with his squad. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
The corner of her lips quirked into a smirk. “I’ll leave that to you.”
Once the battle had died down and all the remaining Japanese were either killed or taken prisoner, (y/n) went searching for Gene. When the bullets began to fly, she couldn’t get the boy from Mobile off her mind, and anxiety churned in her stomach as she looked for him. The stench of gasoline, blood, and burnt flesh filled the air along her ascent to the ridge. Bodies of both marines and the enemy lined the narrow path up the hill, and her eyes scanned each one, praying that none of them were the men she’d come to love dearly.
“Burgie, you seen Sledgehammer? He was just over here.”
Hearing the familiar Cajun accent, she spun toward the voice and sighed in relief when she saw Snafu atop an old bunker, his legs swinging as he sat on the edge with a cigarette hanging from his lip. Romus was talking to another sergeant a few feet away, his rifle swung around his shoulder.
“There you are!” (Y/n) called out, reaching up and slapping Snafu’s foot. It was all she could reach from his elevated position on the concrete bunker. “You alright?”
He smiled and raised an eyebrow, blowing a puff of smoke into the humid air. “Not a scratch on me,” he mused. “I don’t know where Eugene is, but don’t worry, I just saw him. He’s okay, too.”
With this news, a wave of calm washed over her, and she let out the breath she’d been holding since they parted. “Thanks, Snaf. I’ll find him.”
“Have fun,” he laughed, waving his cigarette around in front of him. “And do me a favor and fuc-”
This caught Burgie's attention. “Hey!” He interrupted, scolding Snafu like he was a parent whose child was acting up in public. “Cut it out.”
Busting out laughing, Snafu winked at (y/n), who could feel the embarrassment creeping up her cheeks at his intended comment. She raised a hand and flipped him off with a grin before continuing her search for Gene.
It took her a few minutes of wandering to spot his familiar frame among the sea of dirty green uniforms, but when she did, a huge smile painted her face. (Y/n) almost called out to him, but something stopped her.
He was sitting alone on the busted remains of a bunker with his helmeted head in his hands, his weapon lying idle in the dirt beside him. She continued toward him slowly, observing the gentle shake of his shoulders that told her he was crying.
“Hey, Gene,” (y/n) murmured with a softness that matched the gravity of the moment, lowering herself onto the earth beside him. He reacted quickly, averting his gaze and hiding his face as he wiped the tears from his dirt-covered cheeks.
Reaching over, she softly turned his face toward her. After a moment of resistance, he gave in to her gentle touch. His eyes, glistening with unshed tears, met hers. (Y/n)‘s fingertips traced the dirt-streaked paths on his cheeks, her touch a soothing escape from the horror they lived in.
“It’s okay,” she whispered, ducking to meet his eyes. “I’m here.”
Gene’s lip began to quiver, and a stifled sob escaped him as he covered his face with trembling hands. “I’m a monster, (y/n). The things I’ve done…” he strained, moving away from her comforting touch.
(Y/n) watched the play of emotions on his face as he stood up abruptly, throwing an arm out to point to a bombed-out building. The skeletal remains of what once was a home loomed in the smoky haze. “There was a family in there. Now a baby with grow up without a family! I called in the mortars up there! I did that! I’m a monster!”
“No,” she shot up, her voice cutting him off. “You are not a monster, Eugene Sledge. We are at war. We’ve all done terrible things here, but it does not make you a monster. The fact that you’re feeling like you are proves you’re not. It means you’re human, Gene.”
Another tear streaked down his cheek as he clenched his teeth. “After Bill and everyone we’ve lost, I wanted to get them back. I wanted to. You saw me yesterday!”
“Eugene! Look at me!” she ordered, cupping his cheeks as she implored his attention. His gaze wandered everywhere but her face until she spoke again, her tone much softer this time. “Hon, please look at me.”
Tear-filled hazel eyes met hers, and she tugged him a little closer, they’re faces only inches apart. “We all want to get them back. You are not a monster.”
“I don’t know who I am anymore,” he croaked, more tears spilling down his cheeks. “What if this is who I am now?”
“I know exactly who you are. You are Eugene Bondurant Sledge. You’re still that same boy from Mobile, Alabama who loved his dog more than anything, the same one who loved to fish with his father, and the very same one who I fell in love with before we even stepped foot on foreign soil.”
A sob escaped his lips, and his eyes squeezed shut, overwhelmed by her words. “There’s no way you can love me like this. You deserve someone else who-”
“I don’t love anyone else, Gene!” she urged, tears stinging her eyes. “I love you, and I’ll say it over and over, every single day, for as long as it takes to make you believe me.”
Shaking his head, he tried to break free from her touch, but she held on. “I’m not a good man.”
“You are good, Eugene. You are a good man. We’ve all done things we’re not proud of, but it’s how we respond to them that makes us who we are. This right here? It proves you’re a good man.”
Her words seemed to break through in his mind, and he froze for a moment. Pulling off his helmet, he moved (y/n)‘s hands from his face and cupped her cheeks, his red eyes still glossy. “I love you,” he murmured, voice wavering. “And I will spend the rest of my life working to be worthy of you if you’ll let me.”
The tears (y/n) had been holding back filled her eyes, a few of them trickling from her waterline. She nodded in his gentle hold. “You already are.”
He wiped a few tears away softly, a lopsided smile forming on his lips. “You’re too good for this world, darlin’,” Gene cooed. “You always see the good in people. Even me.”
With utmost care, Gene reached up and removed (y/n)‘s helmet, her tousled (y/h/c) spilling out. The fading sun added a soft glow to their faces, emphasizing the exhaustion etched in their features. As he delicately held the helmet aside, Eugene’s eyes met (y/n)‘s, a silent understanding passing between them. He closed the gap, his breath mixing with hers as his eyes lingered on her face, taking in every detail-the mud smudges, the fatigue-as if memorizing each nuance.
With a gentle touch, he pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was a tender blend of longing and comfort, a quiet promise to stay by the other’s side. In that moment, the world around them ceased to exist. Time slowed as they embraced, finding solace in the simple act of being together at last. The sounds of war faded into the background, replaced by the gentle symphony of two hearts seeking refuge in the warmth of each other’s touch.
So this is inspired by the song for my favourite musical Les Misérables ‘Empty Chairs At Empty Tables’ where the character Marius sings about loosing his friends during the French Revolution. I feel that this song fits a lot of characters from the HBO war fandom but I was just drawn to writing this fic for Eugene Sledge. Warnings: themes of war, loss, grief, death, death of a beloved pet, PTSD
Thank you so much @georgieluz for proofreading it.
Deacon watched the couple, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth as sat with a lopsided grin. Eugene never saw him move but every time he turned around he was right in his heels. Eugene reached down to scratch his dog's head affectionately, watching as he smiled up at him.
“The way he looks at you, sometimes I wonder whether he’s the love of your life instead,” Y/n joked, laughing as Eugene stuck out his tongue at them.
“You’re just jealous that he got the last sandwich.”
“Not at all, you know I’d do anything for him,” Y/n began scratching Deacon’s arm which caused the dog to flop down onto their lap.
“Which is exactly why I’m not worried about leaving you with him. I know you’ll both look out for each other,” Eugene sat down, a solemn look on his face.
“We’re gonna be just fine, right Deacon? Your Dad has nothing to worry about,” Y/n spoke to the dog and Eugene felt his heart swell for the hundredth time that day as he realised just how much he loved them.
“Gene, please don’t be sad,” Y/n reached over, cupping his cheek. “We’re going to be just fine.”
“I know,” Eugene mumbled, his lip wobbling as the tears began trickling down his cheeks. “I just don’t want to leave you.”
“I don’t want you to leave either, but I know you have to. It doesn’t make it any easier though,” they admitted, running their fingers through his red locks.
“I love you, Eugene Sledge. Come back to me.”
“I promise.”
To my dearest Y/n,
How I wish I was at home with you. I want nothing more than to be back in that field, on the red-checked picnic blanket with you and Deacon. Those days were so simple. If only all of life could be that simple.
Today I saw a man have his whole leg blown off and he just stood there looking at us, it was as if he didn’t realise what had happened to him until the medics were trying to get him on a stretcher. How does that even happen?
I hope everything at home is going well. Thank you for visiting my parents, it means a lot to them when you visit and Deacon always loves your visits, he tells me so personally. I wish I was there with you. All I want is a hug. It seems silly really, childish even, but to just have your arms around me, even for a second would be enough.
I love you always my darling,
Your Eugene
————————————————————————
My Eugene,
I’m sure by now you have received the news of Deacon’s passing from your parents. I am so sorry, my love. Just know that he did not suffer. His old body carried him well right until the end and I spent the last three days and nights of his life by his side. We sat out under the apple trees and I read to him just like you used to. He was comfortable when he passed. The house is quieter without him. Now that I am without either of you I do feel truly alone, not even Sidney is here to support me.
I pray every night for your safe return to me my love.
I love you forever and always
Your Y/n
Eugene felt his legs shaking as he stepped off the train onto the platform, his hands shaking as he held onto his kit bag tightly. He could see Sidney, leaning against his truck, a cigarette hanging limply from his lips. It was the reunion he was excited for but not the one he had been yearning for. Sid talked all the way back to his house, talking of his fiancée, life since he’d been home, and his family but Eugene barely registered any of it, his mind too preoccupied with the image of Y/n.
“Drop me here, Sid,” Eugene spoke up as the view of the driveway came into sight.
“You sure, I can drive you up to the house?”
“No, it’s okay. I need the walk. I’ve been stuck on the train for hours.”
Sidney pulled up to the end of the driveway, cutting the engine.
“It’s good to have you back, Gene.”
“It’s good to be back. Thanks for the ride, Sid.”
Eugene slung his kit bag over his shoulder, leaving Sid behind him as his legs carried him up the driveway in long strides. As he approached the house he could see them, arranging one of the flower baskets by the front door, their sleeves rolled up and looking just as lovely as the day he’d left. Eugene felt his heart swell at the sight of them and he promised he would tell them every day.
He dropped his kit bag in the lawn chair, approaching them slowly so as to not disturb them.
“Y/n?” He spoke, his hands shaking a little at his sides.
Y/n dropped the flower basket, oblivious to the terracotta shattering across the decking.
“Eugene?” They squeaked, their hands coming to their mouth. “Is it really you? Are you really here?” Y/n stepped down off the decking, moving to stand in front of him. Their hand reached up to cup his cheek, Y/n’s fingers grazing at the soft flesh and Eugene sighed.
“It really is you,” they whispered, tears trailing down their cheeks to match Euegne’s.
“I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”
“It's so quiet, isn't it?” Euegen turned his head to look down at Y/n, as they smiled sympathetically at him.
“You'll get used to the peace again, my love. I promise.”
“It’s not that,” Eugene sighed, shifting to sit up on his elbows, “Deacon always used to snore on the end of the bed. He was so noisy when he slept.”
Eugene could feel the tears starting to trail down his cheeks being brushed away and a chaste kiss placed on his lips. “I miss him every day,” Eugene cried, a sob escaping from his lips as he was enveloped in Y/n’s embrace.
“It’s okay, Gene. We’re going to get through this together.”
“NO YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND. YOU WEREN'T THERE!” Gene screamed, throwing another vase across the room and watching as it smashed on the floor, glass shattering like icicles across the hardwood floorboards and the flowers cascading amongst the disarray.
“I know I wasn’t there for you then, Eugene but I’m here now and I am never leaving your side,” Y/n cried, “So don’t keep trying to push me away because I’m not going anywhere.”
“But you have no idea. They’re all dead, they’re all gone and I came back. Why did I deserve to come back? There are houses all around the world with empty chairs where they should be sitting right now,” Eugene slipped down onto the floor beside the smashed vase, his head hanging low as he sobbed.
Y/n couldn’t take it anymore and was by his side in an instant, cradling him close, comforting him. “Shh Eugene, please don’t talk like this. I need you. Your family needs you. I am so glad you came home.”
“But why did I deserve to come home and they didn’t,” Eugene glanced up at them, his large tearful eyes breaking their heart further.
“Because I love you, that's why. Because it wasn’t your time and quite possible because you deserved to come home.”
“And they didn’t.”
“No. You all deserved to come home. What you must do now is decide what you want to do with your second chance. You were given a chance to come home and you must live each day to the fullest for all of those who didn’t make it home. Okay?” Y/n looked down at him and Eugene nodded, resting his head against their chest. Y/n reached down, cradling their fingers through his ginger hair, soft, soothing strokes. Eugene’s breathing soon settled into a more normal rhythm as Y/n heartbeat calmed him.
“I’m glad I came home,” Eugene whispered, “because I have a very important question to ask you.”
“You do,” Y/n replied, looking down at the man they loved.
“Will you stay with me? Always?”
“Of course I will Gene. I’m not going anywhere.” The couple sat on the floor of Eugene’s room, no longer aware of the time or space around them. The only thing that mattered right now was that Eugene was home, and he was safe and with time he would heal from the horrors he had seen.
"them gently tilting your chin" from the lovely prompts with eugene sledge pls and thank 💚
He was never bold. Not before the war. And hardly so afterward. Gene was adventurous, yes, before the war. Always blazing his bike across the dirt paths that connected your hamlet. Always chasing you through the trees and begging to stay out even though dusk threatened to blacken the night. But he was too shy to be bold. He was too reserved in his mannerisms. He was reticent when it usually counted most.
Yes, he raced you with glee from tree to trunk, but Gene withheld talk of dreams and he kept quiet about his truest feelings. That never stopped you from asking all kinds of questions, though. You asked what he wanted to be when he was old enough to decide. You asked where he would move if he could; you asked what made him tick and you asked why he never brought anyone else but you out to theses woods to waste away so many afternoons. Gene would never answer, not really. He would shrug and sometimes smile and go on skipping rocks at your side.
And then the war came. And Gene went with it. And that was bold of him, you thought. The boy who never dared to dream out loud was suddenly up and gone to the other side of the world, fighting for it. Of course, he didn't tell you. His mama did, some Sunday afternoon. She pulled you aside in the middle of the market and said Gene was too worried he'd upset you. Too shy to say he wanted you to write. She told you he'd already left, and you went to spend the afternoon skipping rocks alone.
Gene wrote you once, and you thought that was bold of him. He'd left you without a goodbye, and he didn't even address as much in his scrawling. He wrote about the weather and some friends he'd made. And you didn't expect him to write about how tired he must've been or how scared. But you wished he would've. And you wrote him back as much. Your letter was never returned.
You didn't see him when he got home. Not right away. You'd heard his family mention the fact that Gene was safe and sound and more reserved than ever. You didn't expect him to come knocking on your door and sweep you off your feet. Gene would never be so bold. But you wished he would've at least met you halfway; at curb where your neighborhoods connected, so you could tell him that you had missed him. That you still did. Had his sense of adventure been lost after his exploit across the ocean?
You wracked your brain, wondering if you should wait for him to come and see how you'd been. You wondered if Gene would answer the door if you went to call on him. You worried yourself into a frenzy over etiquette, were you just meant to leave Gene be, now that he was home? Would he even be the same sort of friend to you?
You wondered and worried all the way across town, kicking pebbles on the path that led to the pond, in the middle of the woods. You took a trail that was only worn into the ground from Gene's bike tracks. You recognized the pattern of the tire marks.
You recognized the very bike that had blazed this trail. You recognized Gene, skipping rocks like no time had passed at all.
There he was, where the water met the land. His trousers cuffed; his feet planted firmly along the shore. His back to you. All the etiquette you'd worried over was out the window. Because it was now or never.
"Eugene Sledge where have you been?"
The boy turned slowly but did not smile to see you. His eye's gleamed, and his posture settled, and he kept quiet as ever.
"All this time you've been home. I was wondering..."
"Wondering what?" He said, as you stepped closer, eager to settle at his side, like when you were kids. This was all familiar. But Gene wasn't so much. He was quieter, if that were possible. He was leaner, somehow. He was distant despite being the most present he'd been in years.
"Why you never told me you were leaving. Why you didn't write me much at all. Why this is the first time we're talkin'... Thought we were better friends than that."
"Well, that's just it ya see. I never wanted to be friends."
One sentence compacted so many years of answers you'd been wondering. Your heart dropped and your world stopped, and you knew Gene had gone through hell and back. But this...
"Well, we were friends, so-" You began to defend, letting your tone turn bittered. But before you could finish, Gene was speaking up again. Rare. Riveting. Infuriating. Now? You hadn't even asked, for once.
"I know and I'm glad. Thinking back to all the times we spent together out here growin' up and knowin' I could come back to doing just that helped me get through all the shit of war. I'm glad you were my friend, and I knew you'd still be. But I never really wanted that."
"You're not making one bit of sense, Eugene Sledge. No wonder you never said as much." Your eye could've stung with tears of hurt if you weren't so confounded by the look of pain on Gene's face, too. He'd moved to face you as his features twisted into a grimace. He was never much of a talker. Not when it really counted.
Maybe that's why now, when he said "Wait, listen," he didn't speak another word. He only demanded your attention by reaching out in silence, big sad eye's locked on yours. Gene brushed the tips of his fingers across your chin, tilting your face closer to his. His lips parted to speak, but silence lingered as Gene brushed his knuckles across your cheek. His kiss came slow, and his lips were soft on yours. His kiss was a surprise you hadn't expected. It was a timid gesture that lasted only a few glorious seconds. How wondrously bold of him.
"That's... that's what I meant." Eugene Sledge muttered, both his eyes darting between either of yours. You wanted to shake him and grab him and laugh and call him silly for waiting so long.
"Well, I'd ask you to do it again, but you don't answer many of my questions. So, I'm tellin' you to do that again."
"I know we got a lot'a talkin' to do. Years worth. But I'd better follow orders first." Gene smiled. The first smile you'd seen in forever. His grin met yours and he kissed you proper, for enough time that seemed to make up for all that felt lost before. Maybe he hadn't misplaced his sense of adventure after all...
Characters: Eugene Sledge, Snafu Shelton, Bob Leckie, Sidney Phillips, Hoosier Smith, Hillbilly Jones + Captain “Ack-Ack” Haldane
Tags: —
A/N: *sighs* men. let me know if you guys want a part 2 with other characters from the pacific (e.g. john basilone, burgin, jay de l’eau, bill leyden, runner, chuckler etc)!!! pls enjoy and leave a like/reblog/feedback <33 ^.^ // [ko-fi] [commissions] / this was inspired by my love @littlemissvincentvega from this post <3
EUGENE SLEDGE “SLEDGEHAMMER” —
He’s flustered, but he doesn’t do anything about it. Eugene’s frail and bookish, so he’s too shy to pursue you.
Whenever you walk past him, he has to get a good look of you, maybe just a crumb of your face, before keeping his head down.
Sid would tease him and never let it go.
“Give me a break, you ol’ greaser—”
“Hey, I’m just sayin’. The missus needs a friend!”
and Snafu would just make remarks about you, much to Eugene’s annoyance and a sense of motivation to make a move before someone else does.
Eugene is confident that he would get to ask you out some day, because he was raised to be kind and a gentleman. Time will tell.
MERRIELL “SNAFU” SHELTON —
Learning about your crush on him boosts his ego and is way too cocky about it.
“What did I tell ya? Getting to the likes of Y/N is like discovering a goldmine. I’m gonna reel them in.”
Snafu obviously bothers you during the day by flirting with you, trying to get your attention because he likes getting attention.
He doesn’t leave pleasant remarks at first, but he goes straight down to business.
“So, doll. Dinner? Movie? Picnic under the stars? How ‘bout I take you to the back of the train and you can show me your caboose? ;)”
Snafu will eventually learn to be more respectful. But at least he’s polite when he tries to talk and hang out with you more.
ROBERT “BOB” LECKIE —
This man is charming. He managed to win over Stella’s family over dinner, so he could do the same with you.
He won’t stop thinking about you. But he’ll get a bit insecure and overthink about other irrelevant things.
“I wonder what you don’t like about me?”
His friends from How Company make fun of him, reading out loud the letters you wrote to him.
He shows up to your house unexpectedly, all fresh and clean, in uniform, and he asks you out for dinner.
Deep down, he’s nervous af - he’s overthinking if it doesn’t work out if you two ever start dating.
When he takes you out you can tell he’s a nervous wreck and he doesn’t know where else to go from there, but you assure him he’s doing fine.
SIDNEY “SID” PHILLIPS —
Sid is already getting along with you, so nothing really changes when he finds out you have a crush on him. If anything, it brings the two of you closer.
He likes to talk to you about anything, and he’ll eventually bring up taking you out for dinner or a picnic under the stars.
Sid will tell you all about Eugene, life in Mobile, baseball, the rotting coconuts in Pavuvu, anything to keep you around.
“Here, y/n. How about I drop you home? I can squeeze you in on my bike!”
He’s surprised that he’s not as nervous when you two become more than friends.
Sid realizes he’s falling for you hard and it’s gonna kill him once he’s sent off to fight again.
BILL “HOOSIER” SMITH —
This cocky little shit
When Hoosier confronts you about it, he has a big smirk on his face.
“A lil’ bird told me you got your eyes on me.” (The lil’ bird in question was Chuckler.......)
He wastes NO time asking you out. And of course, you accept.
If you smoke, he offers you a cigarette from his pack.
Hoosier is a goofball and he never fails to make you laugh when you two are bonding together.
He’ll stuff cigarettes up his nostrils and once he finally takes you out, let’s say at a fancy restaurant, he’ll stuff the chopsticks up his nostrils. Anything to hear that laugh of yours.
1ST LT. EDDIE “HILLBILLY” JONES —
He’s flattered, all right.
Even from the dungarees and dirt, he’s known for having a clean, fresh and handsome appearance, according to Sledge’s book.
Hillbilly’s a gentleman. If he were to take you out sometime, he’d make you feel like there’s no other person in his life but you.
Ack-Ack pushes him to make a move. He assures him that it wouldn’t hurt to leave some room for a little bit of bonding.
“I know I’m serious when I need to be serious, but I’m a helpless disciple saved by Christ when I found out about you.”
So of course, he’s gonna come in with his guitar and play you a song to win you over.
CAPTAIN ANDREW “ACK-ACK” HALDANE —
Of course, of all people, you develop feelings for the skipper.
Since he’s a good leader who pulls everyone together during the war, you could understand why you like him. He’s also a very sweet guy.
The thing is, he already knows. You’re too shy to even confess your feelings to him in person or in letters, anonymously or not. In fact, no one even told the skipper about it and nobody needed to. He just knows. A good captain is always observant.
You two are alone for a moment, and his casual, calm and friendly tone manages to help you feel more comfortable and less nervous.
He gives you one of the blankets his dad made for everyone. He wraps it around you at night when you’re feeling cold or afraid.
A/N: Repost from my old blog sohoneyspreadyourwings
Story is complete!
Summary: It was only supposed to be one letter. A letter to a random marine you had never met before to try and bring some morale, lift their spirits. Instead, you’d been writing back and forth one letter to the next until it had been years. The letters had awoken something in you, a feeling that you couldn’t quite place. It was only when the letters stopped coming that you started to recognize what that feeling was. Suffice it to say, when a certain marine showed up on your doorstep, you were more than a little surprised.
