Don’t worry it, he meant to say, but he didn’t have the chance. The move was ill-timed, and their fingers brushed. Their hands caught in midair and dropped to the earth together. The expression on Nix’s face reminded Dick of earlier, in the road.
Adult, Winters’ POV. 18′000+ words of feels about Winters and Nix, all of them perfect in their hesitant unavoidability.
Dick made a helpless gesture as he pulled away from Nix’s caress. Now that he was fully awake, he realized how bizarre the moment had been, how any attempt at explanation would make him sound delusional, maybe even insane. But Nix would never, ever let him not tell now… “This is gonna sound nuts, but I thought I saw someone in the doorway. A girl.”
Teen, warning for spookiness. Because it’s a ghost story, something I never knew I wanted. It’s also a love story – so the only drawback is the bad German, really.
A series of five gorgeous pictures that tells a quiet, beautiful story of two men, a radio, and a peaceful evening at home.
He thinks of Dick and his bright red hair, the only spot of color in the whole damn forest, and then he makes himself stop thinking about it.
Adult, Bastogne fic. Great Nixon POV, this feels completely believable. There’s just something very appealing about boys keeping each other warm…
Dick Winters, his best friend. Maybe the best friend he’s ever had. Maybe, he thinks sometimes with his eyes open in the middle of the night, trying to not stare at the guy in the bunk next to his own, the best friend he’ll ever have.
Mature, angsty. War is messy, and so is Lewis Nixon. This fic captures a more complicated view of Dick’s and Lew’s relationship.
Dick takes his responsibilities as Battalion XO seriously, albeit with great reluctance; but even if he wanted to join his men in their foxholes, he couldn’t. He’s too valuable to be allowed to sleep on the front line. Fortunately, Nixon doesn’t give a rat’s ass for decorum. No one should sleep alone in this kind of cold.
Teen, Bastogne fic. This might just be my favourite foxhole fic ever.
He wants the familiarity of cheap whiskey, the burn of it, the taste of home in every foreign town. He wants to be watched by knowing eyes, to be wanted.
He wants too many things he can’t have, God help him.
Mature, post-series. Nix is having trouble adjusting. This is perfection, an amazing Nix POV and a great look at post-War life.
A beautiful manip of my two favourite soldiers…
Dick had pressed his fingertips against Nix’s throat and held them there until some warmth bled from his fingertips back into Nix’s frozen skin. His pulse beat steadily against Dick’s hand, an echo caught and tapped back.
M, angsty Nix POV. This just about breaks my heart. Bittersweet, with all the sweet courtesy of Dick Winters, of course.
“All right. So let’s assume that one’s secretary is both attractive and willing. Would her boss just throw her over his desk, unbutton, and have his wanton way with her?“
Nix choked on his brandy. "God, Dick. Don’t do that!"
"Don’t throw you over my desk, or don’t talk about it?”
Mature, established relationship. Nix helps Dick break in his new office the right way. This is delicious!
