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bloodstainedsaint · 4 months

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thank you thank you thank yooou!! And I don’t mind waiting for good stuff 🤷‍♀️

Okay so my idea kinda was in episode 7 when George and Lipton is in the same foxhole. So they get “hit” by the dud but the reader is so scared something actually happened to George, so she is running towards their foxhole and George is screaming for her to stay put cuz he’s okay and then she gets hit….or almost…I mean something tragic. I wanna bawl my eyes out.

And of course…feel free to not do it, if you think it sucks🧡 Love your stuff and have a good day !

louder than bombs (george luz x reader)

word count: 1800+

warnings: blood, gore, death, angst (w happy ending), bff! roe, mutual pining, i hint at both renée x roe AND baberoe

notes: used some hcs from this (shameless self-plug), and happy new year to all! i hope that 2024 is your year :)

“So, you and Luz, huh?”

Despite Lieutenant Dike’s request not to (like you'd listen to a coward like him anyway, even if he did have a good point), you and Eugene were sharing a foxhole — one a few meters behind where Skip, Penk, Don, and Luz were standing around in a circle, joking and laughing.

Taking your eyes off the man in question — you'd been staring at him from afar for too long, anyway — you turned to Eugene with a befuddled expression. “What do you mean, ‘You and Luz?’”

He took one look at your face and chuckled around the cigarette in his mouth. “It can mean whatever you want it to mean.”

“You say that as if we’re together or something, Gene,” you scoffed and held yourself tighter for warmth.

“Practically. Seen yourself lately? You blush and smile whenever he talks to you.”

Spluttering in response, you could feel your ears going red. “Well, Bayou, what if I’m blushing because it's zero degrees out here? And what if he’s just a funny guy in general?”

Eugene glanced over to the group of men, and, as if on cue, they were cracking up at George’s impression of the chickenshit lieutenant. “He’s a good match for you, (Y/N).”

“Oh, I'm so glad you approve,” you said, rolling your eyes at your friend. “Gonna read our wedding rites now?”

He put out his cigarette. “He makes you laugh. We could all use some of that.”

You inspected the faraway look in Eugene’s eyes, and you knew he was right. The fatal accident with the goddamned Luger that killed Hoobler recently, the barrage earlier today that sent both Joe Toye and Bill home with missing right legs, the overall misery of this frozen hell. You’d all seen your fair share of blood and open flesh; the company needed the beam of light that was George Luz.

Watching Luz as he was pulled aside by Lipton, you exhaled, nodded, and huddled a little closer to Eugene. “Yeah. Yeah, you're right.” After a few quiet, thoughtful moments, a small smile creeped back up on your face when you thought of something to bring up the mood again.

“You never heard me teasing you about Renée,” you muttered beneath your breath, loud enough for him to hear and correct you on because you had teased him about the Belgian nurse. Before he could, you pushed on, your grin growing, “Hey, what about you and Babe, huh?”

Now it was his turn to turn to you shocked. Your snickering was interrupted by the roaring, deafening sound of a bombardment shredding trees around you.

“Shit!” you cursed, the night sky lighting up with fireworks of yellow and white. Snow and dirt erupted from the ground like spurts of lava from a volcano. Through the ringing in your ears, you heard bellows of “Incoming!” and other indistinct cries.

Turning to the man next to you, you shouted above the din, “Eugene, you alright?”

“Fine,” he shouted back as he clutched his helmet tight to his head. “You?”

“Fine,” you echoed with a nod, though maybe your head had moved on its own with the shaking ground beneath you. You strained your ears to single out cries for a medic; you didn't catch any, and you weren't sure if that was because no one had gotten hurt yet or because they were dead within an instant.

You peeped over the edge of your foxhole. In the flashes of light, you could make out amongst the silhouette of wrecked trees George hurriedly crawling on the ground towards a foxhole with two soldiers in it, yelling for him to come on. If your hearing wasn't failing you, you recognized their voices as Skip and Penk.

“What d’ya see?” Eugene poked his head out of the foxhole.

Your voice was strangled in your throat as you helplessly watched George inch his way toward cover. “I—” you started, before a shell directly hit the two men in the middle of their calls. Frantically, you backed into your foxhole. “Skip and Penk, they’re…”

“What?” Eugene shouted, and you realized you had only murmured it.

“Muck and Penkala got hit!” you cried. The look you gave Eugene told him that there would be no saving them.

You got back up to peek over your foxhole and saw that Luz had vanished. Your heart sank in your chest, right down to the pits of your stomach.

Before your mind could register what was going on, your feet lifted you up and out of the foxhole. You could faintly hear Eugene yelling at you to come back, (Y/N), what the hell are you doing? You hit the ground at the same time a shell did just meters away from you, showering you in debris. Yet, you felt distant from the thought of danger or bodily harm, your raw instinct on overdrive; the only thing that was running through your mind as you dashed through the devastated forest was if George was okay.

Eyes flitting around, you caught a glimpse of him getting into a foxhole with Lip. As waves of relief washed over you, you jumped into a foxhole a distance behind them. A shell impacted nearby and swept the fallen trees acting as their cover towards you. You pulled your knees close to your chest and covered your head, staying like that as the barrage kept up.

Then, for just a second, it was silent. Closing your eyes, you caught your breath. A whistling sound ceased the brief respite, and you peered over just in time to see smoke coming from George and Lipton’s foxhole. Your mind disconnected itself from your body once again; it felt like you were moving in slow motion as your feet took you to them. That smoke clouded your senses, your thoughts — all you could see and hear were the vivid memories of Hoobler’s wound gushing blood and his dull eyes closing shut for the last time; you treating Bill’s still twitching leg while Toye’s shredded one was being bandaged by Eugene only feet away; and Muck and Penkala’s foxhole going up in a spray of dirt and a show of light, abruptly cutting off their shouting.

What were you going to see when you arrived at their foxhole? Bloodstained snow? Mangled limbs? Ruined corpses? Even the thought made you want to sob.

Your heart thundered in your ear, louder than any bombs or artillery the Germans could send at you, but you could vaguely discern George’s voice in your trance.

“Damn it, am I yelling medic? Stay right fucking there, (Y/N)!”

Right as you were shaken out of your own head, your eyes focusing on the two unharmed men as they yelled for you to stay put, a shell hit a tree hardly an arm’s length away from you. The burst launched you backwards, lodging shrapnel into your face and all over your body.

You let your eyes flutter closed as the screaming started.

“(Y/N)!” George bawled, witnessing the last shell of the bombardment blast the tree right next to you.

“George, get down!” Lip pushed George down into the foxhole from where he'd been peeking over to helplessly watch your unsteady advance.

George couldn't get the image of you shielding yourself at the last second out of his head. He broke free from Lipton and crawled out of his foxhole to your unmoving figure, relieved to find that you were still breathing out clouds of vapor, albeit unevenly. Your right cheek was cut and bleeding, as well as your arms, legs, torso — hell, was there anywhere you weren’t bleeding from?

He cradled your head to his, whispering that it's gonna be alright and you’re gonna be just dandy, (Y/N), even though he didn't believe those words himself. He lifted his head from yours and yelled for a medic with a hoarse voice, already scratched up from having to shout over the booming to tell Lipton that Muck and Penkala got hit.

George then realized that he had gotten extremely lucky that day; Muck and Penkala had been shelled just before he reached their foxhole, and the shell that had landed next to him and Lipton was a dud. Staring down at your bloodied form, he darkly concluded that maybe he wasn't lucky — maybe he just brought bad luck to everyone else.

Eugene seemed to materialize out of thin air at the panicked calls for a doctor and kneeled over you, ordering, “Set ‘em down, set ‘em down!” George laid you down on the icy ground, and he saw that your eyes were open now, darting around at your surroundings. You looked frightened and pained, yet when your eyes finally settled on him, you seemed somewhat at ease.

“Jesus, what did I tell you, (Y/N)?” Eugene reprimanded, but the concern in his voice was evident. He began picking out the shrapnel from your flesh, and you wailed out in agony. Ripping open a sulfa packet with his teeth, he then shook the powder onto your countless wounds.

In the back of his mind, George knew that your pained whimpers would haunt him forever if you didn't pull through, acting as the price of his "good luck".

“Told me to come back, Genie,” you smiled mirthlessly, which quickly became a wince with the gash in your cheek. The white medic band around your arm was stained the same color as the red cross on it.

Lipton was out of the foxhole at this point and assisting Eugene with bandaging your injuries. “You’ll be fine, alright? Just hang in there.”

George registered that he had only been staring, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. He intertwined his fingers with yours and squeezed your clammy hand, to which you weakly squeezed back.

Grimacing while he injected you with morphine, Eugene said to Lipton, “They��re bleeding bad, Sarge; we gotta get ‘em back to an aid station.”

George’s voice sounded far off from himself. “I’ll radio for a jeep.” As he did so, his hand still clutching yours, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the excruciation on your face. For some reason, he felt guilty.

Though it felt like years to him, the jeep arrived shortly, and the three of them carried you to the stretcher on the hood of the vehicle and gingerly placed you upon it.

Gazing down upon you on that stretcher, your face streaked with crimson, your hair matted with dried blood, George wanted to say, “I still find you beautiful, Bloody Mary," but for what felt like first time in his life, the words weren't there and the wiseass comment just refused to come out right.

What came tumbling out of his lips instead was, “I love you.”

Pausing, Lipton and Eugene exchanged a knowing look and watched with bated breath. Meanwhile, George wanted to smack himself for letting the adrenaline coursing through his veins get to him; this was definitely not what you wanted to hear — rejecting him should be the least of your worries right now.

To his utter disbelief, you smiled, in spite of yourself and the grim circumstances. “I love you too, George.”

Once his brain wrapped around the fact that you needed him as much as he needed you, he implored, "Come back to me, alright?” He gently caressed your cheek, his voice sounding different to himself with the undertone of desperation. “I—I’ll be right here waiting for you.”

You placed a feeble hand over his and turned to press a kiss to it. “I'm counting on it.”

The driver finally grew tired of the delay and urged them to get moving. George stepped away as Eugene hopped in the jeep’s shotgun seat to escort you back to the aid station.

Lighting a cigarette with trembling hands, George watched the jeep dissipate into the blanket of night.

Eugene let things sink in for a while; you were grateful for the time to rest as the morphine kicked in. When you arrived, though, you were awake enough to hear him ask again, a rare smirk hidden in his voice:

“So, you and Luz, huh?”

taglist: @mads-weasley, @ronsparky, @dcyllom, @malarkgirlypop, @joetoyesbrassknuckles101, @samwinchesterslostshoe, @fxxiva

#band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #george luz #george luz x reader #hbo war #easy company #101st airborne #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine #hbo war fanfic #band of brothers imagines #rick gomez

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bloodstainedsaint · 4 months

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WHERE DOES ONE OBTAIN THE DRAFTS??????

The Last Patrol [early draft]

#THIS IS SO FUNNY #I NEED MORE

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bloodstainedsaint · 4 months

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Me watching military channel introducing Ron Speirs before watching BoB: why this man got so much praise

Me after watching BoB myself: Speirs I wanna be your dog- NO I MEAN JOIN YOUR DOG COMPANY

*bark bark *

#at first i kinda didn't like him cause of the whole POW thing #then i started thinking about it #in the world of band of brothers where the rumors are left up to interpretation #i found him kind of intriguing #then i thought of the rumors and gossip idea #and i was like what if this man is more than what the myths say about him #what if he could be soft for someone #anyways that's why i like war criminal number 1

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bloodstainedsaint · 4 months

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i have a brain worm right now and its name is Captain Ronald Speirs like i know i just posted a fic for him but i have another idea in mind and 😣😣

it’s comforting to see that people are either in their chuck grant era, ron speirs era or both in the bob fandom right now and i’m LIVING FOR IT

#the idea is: what if reader had as bad a reputation as speirs?#so they kinda have a rivalry over who can make their soldiers piss their pants more #(and maybe they're secretly dating idk)

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bloodstainedsaint · 4 months

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noises in the bedroom with ron, lew, lieb, luz, and shifty

word count: 770+

warnings: reader has female genitalia, degradation (only in ron's), praise, teasing, i call nixon a whore for the reader (it's true)

notes: i couldn't include babe in this one cause i just decided that i would write for him (and therefore i must do Research) but hope you guys enjoy anyway !!

ronald speirs

big on praise-degradation, like 50/50 on it

unless you managed to really set him off (ex; make him jealous on purpose, tease him, be a brat, etc.), then don't expect very many kind words

he can be so mean and unfair when he wants to, but by the end of it he’s worshiping you like you're a deity

he’ll call you a slut but his slut, yk?

could not care less about who hears — no one's gonna confront him about it anyway with his reputation, and they're definitely not coming up to you either since they know ron is going to be death glaring them the whole time

he groans and grunts huskily + openly and encourages you to not cover up/muffle your sounds with your hand

(quickies are, of course, the exception since that would be unsafe, and if higher-ups are around, obviously he's about to care; in any other situation though, no one is safe from hearing the two of you)

lewis nixon

somehow his moans are louder than yours???

LIKE that's not a bad thing, it just means he's enjoying it just as much as you but he's just so vocal about it, saying your name or princess, doll, sweetheart like his life depended on it

(he's such a whore for you, especially when he goes down on you. you're gonna be feeling the vibrations of his groans bc omg is he obsessed with eating you out…but that's another story)

this is mostly because he also does not care who hears (same exceptions as ron). i imagine dick having to come talk to you all flustered, his face matching his hair and his eyes cast to the ground, asking you guys to keep it down

…nixon definitely didn't get any play for two weeks after that

despite being the #1 slut for you, he still manages to tease you, saying things like, “tell me how bad you want it.” (as if he doesn't want it just as bad)

joseph liebgott

he's probably the biggest pottymouth out of the five

anything he does is followed up by a hoarse “fuck, doll” or “shit, (y/n)”

he's trying to cover up the fact that he's a bit of a whiner/panter

he’ll kiss marks onto and around your breasts to muffle the sound of his moans

definitely says “yeah, you like that?” or “that feel good, baby?” during foreplay, smirking down at you while you’re begging for more (he's a little cocky with it)

becomes soft during and afterwards; he's scared to be vulnerable but he can't help telling you how pretty you look, how good you feel, and how much he loves you

will probably confess some of these things in german so he's not as vulnerable, but you still get the gist either way (and if you do understand german, he's screwed)

george luz

honestly he's just kind of unserious, like this man is giggling he's so happy to be with you (and his laughter and smile are infectious so now you're laughing too and telling him to shut up)

he’ll praise you with jokes, telling you you're prettier than any pinup model

“rita doesn't have anything on you, beautiful.” cue you rolling your eyes with a smile and telling him he’s cheesy

he's a little bit of a cusser too (especially when you play with his hair), not to the level of lieb though

“damn, (y/n), i'm lucky you're all mine.”

eventually the jokes and goofiness dissolve into him straight up telling you how good you feel around him and that you're especially gorgeous like this

+ him confessing his love for you when he's still catching his breath

“(y/n), have i ever told you how much i love you?”

“maybe 100 times today, george”

“oh so not enough then” you kiss him before he can remind you again

shifty powers

loves to praise you (and be praised honestly)

like he swears up and down that you're the most perfect girl alive

he can't believe that you're his and he's yours

kind of shy about his moans but he can't stop himself/hide them well enough because he moans at the slightest touch (he's so in love with you)

whimpers when you say he's making you feel good and “don't stop”

he's definitely asking if you're sure about anything and everything, reminding you that you don't have to go through with this if you don't absolutely want to

you just have to be like “darrell c. powers, please just take me” and lord will he oblige you with the brightest goddamn smile on his face

taglist: @mads-weasley, @ronsparky, @dcyllom, @malarkgirlypop, @joetoyesbrassknuckles101, @samwinchesterslostshoe

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bloodstainedsaint · 4 months

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Omg.....your latest Ron fic....just....wow

i think this is a good wow? so THANK YOU 🫶

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bloodstainedsaint · 4 months

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sticky fingers (ronald speirs x reader smut)

summary: you've noticed that you've been missing panties ever since your first time with your lover, ronald speirs. fortunately for you, he's been replacing them.

word count: 1220+

warnings: 🔞, reader has female genitalia, looting, fingering, praise, ron's a little freak (but we knew that), implied that ron jacks off with your panties, reader's a little bit of a brat (that gets straightened out by soft dom ron)

notes: inspired by this ask (brilliant idea btw) and a little bit by ron's handwriting

It had become commonplace ever since Easy Company moved into Germany for you to come back to your billet and find loot laying on your bed, accompanied by a note signed in beautiful cursive that read Courtesy of Capt. Speirs (as if you didn't know who was leaving you these gifts). You already knew that Ron was sending ornate silver cutlery and decor back home to your house in America so you wouldn't have to lug it around with the rest of your belongings; the loot that made it to your bed were things that he wanted you to wear for him that very night: heels, jewelry/accessories, dresses, and his favorite: lingerie.

Now in Austria nearing the end of the war (in Europe, at least), that was what you found placed on your bed, next to the usual note. And, as you usually did, you smiled to yourself at the gifts, freshened yourself up, and first tried on the lacy lingerie that he'd selected for you, followed by the elegant off the shoulder evening gown, the heels, and the diamond necklace.

What often followed was him coming back to find you all dressed up before dancing with you — with you leading, of course. With the radio in the room playing slow love songs, he would start planning a future with you as he twirled you around, saying all the things the two of you would do once back in the States: buy a house, raise a family, adopt a dog. It had surprised you the first time; you had never expected Ron to think of the future (one including you, no less) and realize that he just might be going home after all.

As you started clasping on the necklace with your back facing the door, someone barged in like they owned the place. You turned around and were not surprised to see Ron there, seemingly not fully acknowledging your presence as he shed his hat and the top layer of his uniform. Placing them on a chair, he ran a hand through his hair with a sigh.

“Has anyone ever taught you to knock, Ron?” you huffed lightheartedly as you finished fastening the necklace. He finally turned his attention to you, and you could see the tension (you assumed from everything that had happened recently with Staff Sergeant Grant) disappear from his face, replaced by something darker as he drank in how the dress hugged your curves so well.

“Well,” you said while smoothing out the dress and preparing to spin for him, “how do I lo—”

Predatory eyes raked over your body. “On the bed.”

“Ron?”

“Get on the bed, now.” Something akin to desperation was masked by the harshness of his tone.

Doing as he said, you sat on the edge of the bed. He strode over and stood over you, and your breath hitched when he lifted your chin upward with two fingers. “Good girl.”

He withdrew his hand and let it run over your bare shoulders before tugging on one of the sleeves, uttering, “I want this off.”

“I just put it on!” you protested.

There was a subtle crazed look to his stare, a hardly restrained wildness lying beneath. “And you'll take it off.”

You first took off your heels, and, maintaining eye contact, you slipped off the sleeves of your dress and pulled the rest down, slowly revealing your lace-covered chest and the inches of skin that lay below. Smirking, you let the dress sit around your hips as you first removed the necklace and set it aside.

“It's a shame to let a dress this nice pool on the floor,” you said, enjoying the way his jaw tensed, “so I'll stop here.”

His glare hardened, and he bent down slightly and pulled the dress down the rest of the way, with you wiggling your hips to assist him. He placed the dress on the same chair as his officer jacket and hat. “Happy?”

You innocently beamed up at him, relishing in knowing how much of a grip his love for you had on him. “Very.”

He returned and leaned over you, with one hand on the bed beside you and the other traveling to your panties.

Before he could get any closer to what he desired, you placed your hand around his wrist. He immediately stopped his arm and studied your face.

Meeting his gaze, you breathily said, “I've been missing panties, Sparky.”

“That's a shame.” His apathetic voice and expression indicated that it was anything but.

“I know you've been stealing them since our first time together.”

Shrugging, he pouted for a second like he usually did when he was thinking. You unknowingly loosened your grip, and he pushed your wet panties to the side and began rubbing circles on your clit. “And I've been replacing them with new ones, haven't I?”

Your thoughts became jumbled at the slow circles, and your hand fell away completely. “Yes, sir…”

He smiled, watching you lose your focus and confidence at the movements. “You wanna know what I do with them?” Gulping, you unsteadily bobbed your head. “Whenever we’re separated, I use them to remind me of you.”

“Use… them?” Your face flushed at the thought.

He only chuckled in response. His fingers moved down from your clit to circle your opening.

“Maybe I'll take these with me to the Pacific,” he pondered aloud, pulling the strap of your panties back and then snapping them against you. “You don't mind, do you?”

“Ron, I like thes—” you cut yourself off with a moan as his fingers plunged into you.

“I didn't think so, pretty girl.” He gently guided your body down onto the bed so his fingers could reach deeper within. Your back arched as he went at a brutal pace, your eyes fluttering closed in bliss.

Ron leaned over you with one arm supporting him. Somehow speeding up his movements against that sensitive spot inside of you, the palm of his hand rubbing deliciously against your clit, he lowered himself to mouth along the valley between your breasts. In his wake, he left conspicuous marks on your neck before trailing his lips up and capturing yours in a kiss full of shameless want.

He could tell you were getting close when your walls started squeezing around him and you became a whiny, breathy mess before him, bucking your hips to meet his fingers. “You're doing so good for me, just let go. That's it, beautiful…”

Lights sparked behind your eyelids, and your moans of his name took on a higher pitch, neighbors be damned. Ron slowed down his thrusts and let you ride out your climax. Before you could notice the absence of his fingers or that he wasn't kissing you anymore, your panties were already pulled down and off of your legs and stuffed into his pants pocket.

Ron licked the stickiness off of his fingers and climbed onto the bed, situating himself above you. “As much as I liked that dress on you, I like you better with it off.”

You laughed, still out of breath with a hazy mind. “Why don't you show me just how much, Captain?”

His lips pulled up into that unnerving smile that only you found charming. He breathed, “My pleasure,” and fit his lips against yours before you could catch a glimpse of the lingerie sticking out of his pocket.

taglist: @mads-weasley, @ronsparky, @dcyllom, @malarkgirlypop, @joetoyesbrassknuckles101, @samwinchesterslostshoe, @maya0, @linhkhanhcps, @cinnamonmalarkey, @imafckingbitch

#band of brothers #ron speirs x reader #ronald speirs x reader #ron speirs #band of brothers x reader #hbo war #easy company #101st airborne #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine #hbo war fanfic #band of brothers imagines #ronald speirs #matthew settle

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