#chuck grant fanfic

[1waveshortofashipwreck]

Should've Been Born Later, Nix - Chapter 7: The Boys Back Home

Easy Company x Fem!OCs

Chap. Synopsis: What will happen when some of Easy Company's most valuable soldiers disappear?

Words: 2,135

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Author's note: Hey everyone! Apologies for the delay with the chapter lol 🫠 This chapter is the point of view of the men in Bastogne!! Also, because this is my fanfiction and I can do whatever I want, there will be some soldiers who somehow survived their demise in previous episodes (Miller? Dukeman? PERHAPS) Anywho, thank you as always for reading and be on the lookout for Chapter 8! 🥰

"Luz!" Carwood cried over the last shell to drop. He watched the radioman dive into the foxhole - George met the same fate as the nine others who dropped into that hole, none of them came out. Lipton was astonished. At most, a foxhole could fit three of the men comfortably, perhaps four if needed. But ten men in one? Lipton should have seen a dog pile of olive drab stretching above the opening. Instead, he saw an empty hole in the ground. The First Sergeant blinked and rubbed his eyes, making sure what he saw was indeed reality. The foxhole stayed empty when he opened his eyes.

Lipton sprinted from where he was taking cover, desperately searching for Lieutenant Dike. He knew that Dike was the least preferable choice, especially in a situation like this, but the officers Lipton would have preferred to ask for help had disappeared. After an agonizing search mission, Lipton finally found the Lieutenant - Dike was absentmindedly strolling along, looking at the trees around him with a glassy, thousand-yard stare. “Lieutenant Dike!” Lipton called out, scrambling over tree roots and broken branches. Dike snapped back to reality, his posture automatically improving when he saw First Sergeant Lipton.

“What is it, First Sergeant?” Dike asked, trying to be authoritative. The yawn that followed his words worked against him. Carwood began to speak, but his words were caught in his throat… how in the world was he going to tell the lieutenant what just happened?

“Sir… we um…” Lipton tried to force the words out of his mouth.

“Spit it out, First Sergeant Lipton!” Dike ordered, irritation evident in his voice. Lipton paused, taking a breath before responding to the officer.

“Sir… several men are gone…”

“First Sergeant, this is war, we're going to have casualties every day.”

“Not like that sir, I mean… they've disappeared…”

Dike stared blankly at the NCO, wondering if he heard him right.

“Where did they go, Carwood?” Hearing Dike use his first name gave Lipton a feeling he could only describe as ick, but nevertheless, he continued.

“Sir, I saw ten men go into a foxhole, but when I reached them, the foxhole was empty.”

“And you’re sure you went to the right foxhole?” Lipton had to pause and take a breath before answering.

“Yes, sir.” In a flurry of urgency that Lipton had never seen from Dike before, the lieutenant had rounded up Compton, Peacock, Shames, Foley, and Welsh, as well as radioed to Colonel Sink. Lipton hastily repeated his experience to the officers, who were just as hesitant to believe Lipton as Dike was. 

“So they’re just… gone?” Harry asked, still skeptical.

“I wish I had more information for you sir, but all I saw was the men go into the foxhole and not come out,” Carwood replied, defeat evident in his voice.

“Shit…” Welsh muttered under his breath. The Irishman stared at the ground in front of him, wondering how he let two of his closest friends just disappear.

“So who all are we missing?” Buck interjected. He stood with his arms crossed, instinctively taking command of the conversation.

“Captains Winters and Nixon, Lieutenant Speirs, and then Roe, Luz, Liebgott, Guarnere, Toye, Malarkey, and Randleman,” the NCO listed off the men he saw disappear, and prayed he would see again.

What Lipton did not see was Skip Muck quickly scrambling back to his foxhole. He had originally made his way to CP to ask Captain Winters a question, but when he overheard the discussion between Lipton and the officers, panic consumed the soldier’s thoughts. Muck all but fell into Penkala’s foxhole, unaware that he inadvertently elbowed his best friend in the face.

“HEY! What the fuck!?” Penkala yelped in surprise, his hands shooting to his cheek.

“Keep it down, Penk! I gotta tell you something,” Muck hushed the soldier, looking to make sure no one else was around. “I just heard Lipton telling Buck that we lost a bunch of men.”

“Like, to a sniper?”

“No, like they fucking disappeared.” Alex rolled his eyes, figuring Skip was just up to his usual mischief.

“Yeah, and I’m marrying Rita Hayworth.”

“Penk, I’m serious. Winters, Nixon, and a few others are gone and they have no fucking idea where they went.”

“Wait, what’d you say?” Muck and Penkala looked up to see that Shifty Powers had joined them in their foxhole. The rifleman looked at his two friends with shock and concern - how could the soldiers just disappear, especially vital officers like Winters and Nixon?

“He said we’re missing half the fucking company!” Penkala’s voice raised again, becoming more distressed by the minute.

“I said keep it down, you ass-hat!” Skip punctuated his interjection with a sharp whack to the back of Penkala’s head. “Look, we all know Dike isn’t gonna do shit. When Colonel Sink gets here, we need to back Lipton up and make sure Sink knows what’s happening.”

“I can go round up some of the other NCOs and tell them,” Shifty offered, gathering up his rifle to go find the rest of Easy Company’s leaders.

“Alright, we’ll come find you once Sink gets here,” Penkala replied before Shifty set off on his solo mission. Before long, the Virginian had gathered up Alley, Christianson, Grant, Martin, McClung, Perconte, Sisk, Talbert, Popeye, and Smokey Gordon. Of course, the trio of Hashey, Garcia, and Miller wanted to tag along as well - even if they did not have a leadership role, they wanted to help their company however they could.

“I really hope Bull’s okay…” Hashey muttered to no one in particular, crossing his arms to conserve the little warmth he had. “First he went missing in Holland, now we lose him in Bastogne…”

“Yeah, we need to keep a leash on him or something!” Miller snickered to his friends before Babe Heffron bumbled up to the group. The redhead resembled a baby horse learning to gallop as he jumped and weaved past tree roots and foxholes making his way to the group of soldiers.

“The fuck is this I hear about Gaurnere missing!?” Babe’s respirations were loud and labored as he attempted to catch his breath. Before anyone could respond, Lipton came across the group of soldiers all congregated near CP.

“Hey fellas, everyone doing all right?” Carwood asked nervously - he loved his men, but he knew they were up to no good if too many were in one place without a good reason.

“We heard about the men going missing,” Smokey replied, Mississippi accent thick in his words.

“We want to help, Lip, however we can,” Floyd Talbert added. He nervously shifted his weight from one foot to the other, Smokey glancing a look of concern at his best friend. 

Lipton was about to express his gratitude to his company before Colonel Sink’s Jeep was seen pulling up beside the rest of the group. Lipton quickly went to grab the company’s officers as Sink nodded in thanks to his driver and stepped out of the car. With a loud, abrupt command to “Ten-Hut!” from Buck Compton, the gathered men snapped to attention and saluted the colonel, who offered a gentle salute in return.

“At ease men,” Sink instructed before turning to the officers, “I knew it was bad when I was getting a call from Dike.”

Lipton and Welsh needed to bite their cheeks to hide their amused smiles. “We’re not sure what to do, sir, or if anything can be done…” Buck replied to the colonel before taking a step back - the blonde gestured for Lipton to step up, an instruction to inform Sink of their predicament.

“Carwood, tell me exactly what you saw.” The rest of the gathered men leaned in as Sink spoke, anxious to understand what was happening.

“Ten men went into a foxhole while we were getting shelled, sir, but the foxhole was completely empty when I went to check on them afterward. There was absolutely no trace of anyone being in that foxhole, sir, and now we can’t find any of the men I saw go in.”

The older man nodded in understanding, silently processing Lipton’s words. “Who all went in?” The NCO repeated the names from earlier, ending with Captains Winters and Nixon. Sink simply looked down at the snow. “And you have no idea where the hell any of them went…”

“No sir,” Lipton replied quietly.

The colonel simply let out a sigh and shook his head, “I’m sorry boys, but since it was during a shelling and they were last seen going into a foxhole, the higher-ups probably aren’t going to authorize a search party,” he sent a determined look to the men, “I’m going to do everything I can to push the request through, but I better not hear of anyone taking matters into their own hands.” Before getting back into his Jeep, Sink turned to Lieutenant Dike, or rather, where Dike should have been. “And where the hell is Dike?”

“We don’t know, sir, we looked for him before you arrived but didn’t find him,” Welsh chimed in. Sink rubbed his forehead in irritation before turning to Buck and Welsh.

“All right, I’m making this an official order. Lieutenant Compton, if Dike isn’t to be found and a decision needs to be made, your company comes to you. Harry, you’re second in command. You kids do what you think is right. You’re good soldiers with smart heads on your shoulders.” Sink nodded to the officers and saluted the men before getting back in his Jeep and driving back to Regimental HQ - the poor man put his head in his hands, his most trusted officers were gone without a trace, and there was virtually nothing he could do to help them.

As if on cue, Dike returned to the company, “What are we all standing around for? We have a line to protect!” Dike crescendoed his voice to try and be more authoritative, but his efforts fell flat. Eyes rolled and voices groaned as the gathered men all dispersed and returned to their assigned duties - well, all except for Babe, Talbert, Smokey, McClung, Shifty, Alley, Grant, and Popeye. As everyone was trying to leave, Smokey grabbed the sleeve of whoever he could.

“Y’all, this isn’t right, we need to do something,” the machine gunner pleaded in a hushed tone.

“You heard Sink, though, there’s no way they’re gonna authorize a search party,” Moe replied, his brows furrowed in confusion.

Popeye took a beat before he chimed in, “...why do we need to wait for authorization?”

“Because only a general can authorize a search party,” Talbert answered the Virginian - while he did not agree with the policy at all, he knew that there was no getting around it.

“But didn’t Sink say that he left Buck and Welsh in charge if Dike isn’t around? They’re not the type to snitch,” Grant offered to the conversation, scrunching his shoulders up for warmth like a turtle retreating into its shell.

“Hell, they might be happy to help out,” Gordon affirmed the NCO. The men looked around at each other with uncertainty - what if Dike found out? Or Peacock? To be honest, it was probably worse for the latter officer to discover the plot. Thomas Peacock tries his best to be a good captain, but these efforts cause him to be rather heavy-handed with the rules. If Peacock were to hear of the plot to find the missing soldiers, he would surely either tell his superior officers or try to stop the soldiers himself.

“What if we get caught?” Shifty asked nervously - while he wanted to help his friends, the poor boy was nervous to hatch a plot like this.

“We can’t just do nothin’! We all know they’d do the same if it were any of us out there!” The man from Philly interjected, earning Babe a smack on the head from Grant.

“Where would we even start?” McClung asked the group.

“Well, best thing to do would be to investigate the foxhole and see if there are any clues,” everyone turned in shock to see Lipton returning to them. “I needed something from CP, and then I noticed all of you still over here, I figured you were up to no good,” the first sergeant said with a smile, earning him a loving slap on the back from Grant and Johnny Martin. The rest of the afternoon was about to be spent brainstorming, at least until one of the men needed to take their turn watching the line.

All of the men felt nervous, but especially Babe. Guarnere is his best friend, it would be one thing if Babe knew that he was wounded, even killed, but not knowing what happened to Bill was eating away at Babe worse than anything he had ever felt before.

~~~~~

Chapter 6 | Chapter 8 (coming soon!)

Taglist: @b00ks1ut , @blueberry-ovaries , @bucky32557038ww2 , @claudycod , @dontirrigateme , @easycompany123 , @emilee1421 , @executethyself35 , @hanniewinnix , @ithinkabouttzu , @jump-wings , @panzershrike-pretz , @stolen94 , @themysciraprincess , @xxluckystrike

Thank you so much as always for reading and stay tuned for Chapter 8! 😁

#band of brothers #hbo #hbo war #easy company #should've been born later nix #band of brothers fanfic #easy company x oc #my writing #emily shut up #edward heffron #babe heffron #BaaaaAAAaAaaaAaaAAAAbe #carwood lipton #clifford carwood lipton #buck compton #lynn compton #harry welsh #chuck grant #floyd talbert #skip muck #warren muck #alex penkala #smokey gordon #darrell c powers #shifty powers #earl mcClung #one lung mcclung #popeye wynn #robert wynn #James alley

[next-autopsy]

A/N: Well, hi there! Birdie is such a sneak in this chapter, cheeky thing! Hope y'all enjoy it!

Btw the ----- signifies a kind of time skip or scene change.

Based on the actors portrayal/hbo show and written with no disrespect to the real life veterans. Also all images found on Pinterest.

TW: Not many just underaged drinking...

Tags: @malarkgirlypop, @panzershrike-pretz

Made of Glass

Chapter fourteen: Lipstick Stain  

In theory; jumping out of a plane was simple.  

In reality; the hardest thing Birdie had ever done.  

Sure, they spent days training and practicing, but leaping from an elevated platform and hurling your body out of an actual plane were two very different things. 

The first jump was daunting, no one knew what it would really be like, but once the initial stomach drop eased, Bernadette was hooked.  

A rush of adrenaline hit her and bubbled into joy. The view from above was unlike anything she'd ever seen, and Birdie wished she could capture this moment somehow, remember it till her last days.  

On the ground, the girl wrestled with her chute, rolling it up and packing it away before she could leave the area. 

That afternoon as the sky tinted orange and pink, Bernadette witnessed a drumming out. She wasn’t aware of the existence of this event until she stood in line and watched it happen.  

Any soldier who refused to jump was transferred out of the Airborne and could not qualify as a Paratrooper.  

It broke something in Birdie to see the disheartened faces being marched through the crowd in disgrace. She didn’t want to participate but she didn’t have much of a choice as it was used as a scare tactic to ensure everyone completed their five jumps. If she could, Birdie would have left this disgusting manipulation act.  

One face in particular stuck out to her: Barbara Donahue, the woman of Charlie company. She had slept in the cot next to Birdie since their first day in Toccoa and the thought that she wouldn’t be there that night ran shivers down her spine.  

Her head was hung in shame, and it boiled Birdies blood. How was this helping anyone? This certainly didn’t boost morale or inspire confidence, why was this allowed to happen? 

Bernadette completed the last four jumps alongside her Easy men with no hiccups over the course of two weeks and the night of the fifth and final jump, a celebration was being held for her company to applaud the gaining of their jump wings. It was official.

They were Paratroopers. 

Birdie adorned her dress greens; the shirt, tie and jacket were identical to the men's uniform except for some additional tailoring around the waist. She was given brand new, shiny paratrooper boots, which she was now permitted to tuck her trousers into. The women were also given a below the knee pencil skirt option but Bernadette wanted to show off her hard earned boots, so she opted for her trousers.

The woman added a simple red lip to her look and with her meticulously curled hair in an up do style, she was ready to go. 

-------------------------------------------- 

“1000, 2000, 3000, 4000, 5000, 6000, 7000, 8000, 9-” Their rhythmic chant was cut off and replaced by cheers as Bill slammed the empty glass down onto the table. His silver jump wings had been retrieved from the bottom of the drink he chugged, now held between his teeth. Guarnere grinned at his friends, picking the shiny pin out with his fingers before he bellowed, “Heigh-Ho, Silver!” The surrounding men burst into obnoxious roars; Bernadette laughed at the comradery. 

Toye stood from the rambunctious collection of men to look in the direction of the bar, he needed at least one more drink to deal with this lot.  

“You gettin' ‘nother drink?” Birdie wondered, watching him eye up the other side of the room where she knew the alcohol was coming from.  

“Come on, Little Bird.” He rolled his eyes; he knew she had been trying to sneak in a drink all night, but to her chagrin, Lipton and Martin had forbidden her from underaged alcohol consumption. Joe walked with the girl until they reached the bar where he leaned against the wooden countertop and waited to be served. Birdie took a place next to him, brushing her hand down the front of her jacket to flatten any creases that may have formed on the way over.  

“Corporal Toye,” a mimic of Sobel’s voice exclaimed, “There will be no leaning in my company.” George Luz, was behind the bar handing out full to the brim glasses to anyone who asked, had made his way over to the pair. Toye straighten up his posture and gave the shorter man a pointed look.  

“Are those dusty jump wings?” Luz went on, causing Joe to look down at his newly gained pin. “How do you expect to slay the Huns with dust on your jump wings?” The Pennsylvanian man mock blew the imaginary dust off and shined up the metal on his chest. He’d had enough of the jokesters' chatter; he just wanted a cold drink in his hand and less noise from the man in front of him.  

“Luz, just give me a drink.” He pulled George in, so their faces were mere inches away from one another. Birdie’s eyes flicked between the two and her mind wandered, they were awful close.... and then she spotted it. Luz’s vision flits to Toye’s lips for a mere second before finding his eyes again. Her smile dropped from her face, stunned at the small, almost undetectable movement from the barman. It happened so quickly she was sure Toye himself hadn’t noticed.

“Hell of an idea, Joe.” A smile broke out on George’s mouth spanning ear to ear, “There you go.” He had materialized a beer, seemingly from out of thin air and placed it on the counter separating the men. Retrieving his own half-drunk liquid, he toasted the Corporal before him.  

“Three miles up, three miles down.” 

A voice projected into the room, halting the events of the night and startling every occupant into an upright position, “Ten Hut.” Colonel Sink marched in, followed by two men. All three took a position at the front of the room and Sink began to speak.  

“Well, at ease, Paratroopers.” He paused while the room relaxed, “Good evening, Easy company.” 

“Evening, sir.” They called back, so loud Birdie almost flinched.  

“Now, Parachute Infantry is a brand-new concept in American Military History. But by God, the 506th is gonna forge that brand new concept into victory.” Sink’s southern drawl carried on, awe inspiring the group of men and the single woman.  

“Yes, sir.” 

“I want you to know I'm dammed proud of each and every one of you.” Sink looked directly at Bernadette. He doesn't call her out by name but the twinkle in his eyes showed more than needed to be said. She found herself grinning at this comment and he nodded once to confirm she understood his meaning correctly.  

“Now, you deserve this party.” Chuck handed him a tall glass filled with the pale-yellow liquid everyone was drinking. 

“Thank you, Sergeant Grant.” He accepts the gesture as he prepares to toast. 

“Sir.” Chuck acknowledges quietly, stepping back into line with his own drink in hand. Every man in the room picked up the nearest glass regardless of whether it was theirs or not to join in the toast. George tapped Birdie on the shoulder, she kept her body in Sink’s direction but turned her head to look at him and was greeted by a full untouched beer. He smiled at her and winked, she took the offered glass gratefully, giving him a wink back.  

“So, I want you to have fun.... and remember our motto.... Currahee!” Colonel Sink bellows, raising his drink above his head.  

“Currahee!” The entire room hollers back, followed by cheers and whistles. A few men began chugging whatever they had left so they could grab a new drink. Birdie took a few large mouthfuls, shifting her eyes around the room in case Carwood popped out of nowhere to scold her.  

The night continued. The chatter flicked on like a light switch and drinks were being downed with ease.  

Toye noticed Bernadette polishing off her unlawful beverage and smirked, she had only had it for thirty seconds and it had already vanished.  

--------------------------------------- 

“Bernadette.” 

“Carwood.” 

“Have you been drinking?” 

“Uh....no?” 

“Huh... So, this is not your bright red lipstick on the rim of this glass?” There was a long pause, Birdie shifted her focus from the glass to Lipton’s face. He was trying to look stern and disapproving but hidden behind his eyes was amusement. He couldn’t stay mad at the young woman, especially when she was celebrating a momentous accomplishment.  

“You know, I think I saw Randleman with this exact shade.” Her comment pulled a hearty chuckle from the Sergeant and he shook his head playfully. He’d let her get away with this for tonight, besides, it was only one drink.   

------------------------------------- 

It wasn’t just one drink. 

Bernadette sneakily took sips from Toye and Guarnere’s glasses when they weren’t looking, making sure to wipe away any lipstick transfer left over. She used her puppy dog eyes to beg George for another beverage and he caved immediately, handing her a heavy pour of whiskey. Towards the end of the night, she found an unattended bottle of liquor that had asked her to adopt it. How could she refuse?  

It was some sort of sherry... or maybe port? Honestly, Birdie didn’t really care. She drunk it without question unaware someone was watching her.  

Donald Malarkey had seen every sip of alcohol the southern girl had stolen. He didn’t mind the nineteen-year-old drinking and probably would’ve helped sneak her things if she’d asked him, but he noticed she was starting to sway and figured someone should cut her off before she makes a fool of herself or gets in trouble. He made his way through the crowd and stopped by her side, smiling at the brunette.  

“Don!” Birdie beamed at him; many would think she was just being friendly, but he knew she was at the very least tipsy and realistically a bit drunk.  

“Hey, Birdie. You enjoying the party?”  

“Sure am!” Her already jolly voice went up in pitch till it was almost considered a squeak. 

“Think it’s time to head to bed?” Malarkey suggested, hoping the inebriated woman would just agree with him and walk out quietly. 

“Five more minutes?” She pouted; her bottom lip pushed out and curled downward, like a child being told no. Don had to hold back his laughter.  

“Okay, come find me when you’re ready to go, I'll walk you back.” He offered the woman, she shook her head in reply and slurred some words together,  

“Nah, it’s okay, Mal. I’ll get Lip to walk me.”  

“Promise?” He was unsure if he should leave her, but decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and trust she would find the Sergeant before she was ready to leave the function.  

“Promise.” And with that, the redhead left, returning to Muck and Penkala who had pulled out cards. Don made a mental note to keep an eye on the girl subtly for the rest of the night.  

Not five minutes later and she was gone. He had played one round and when he looked back to the spot he’d left her in; she’d vanished. The man panicked and scanned the room, but Bernadette was definitely gone.  

“Ah shit.” He muttered to himself. 

“What?” Penkala questioned, noticing his friend's cagey behaviour and his constant turning as he examined the room's occupants.  

“Birdie’s gone. She said she’d get Lipton to walk her.” 

“Well, I can’t see him anywhere, so... maybe she did?” Penk suggested, trying to help his upset friend feel better. Donald now searched for the Sergeant and when he couldn’t find him either, he reasoned that Bernadette had most likely gone to him for an escort to her barracks. He prayed that’s what happened and would ask one of the two for details the next day. He also decided he’d tell the lady off for worrying him and make her promise to come say goodbye to him at every event they attended, weather she was drunk or not. 

A/N: Aw Don is such a sweetie! There will be two secondary ships in the background of this fic, guess who?? I hope the chapter title mislead you hahaha

Till next time x

~ next-autopsy ~

Chapter fifteen

#band of brothers #easy company #hbo war #band of brothers fanfic #fem oc #oc #next autopsy #made of glass #made of glass chapter fourteen #joe toye #bill guarnere #george luz #chuck grant #carwood lipton #donald malarkey #alex penkala

[malarkgirlypop]

MEDIC! Part 29 (Donald Malarkey x Fem!OC)

Listen when I say these characters have a mind of their own, I mean it. I was just chilling writing the start of the last episode and then all of a sudden boom, we kissing and shit. Like ah excuse me, this wasn't in my plan, what are we doing? But hey they deserved a we treat and I mean so do we. So this chapter is definitely rated, if you aren't over 18, back! Back, I say! 🤺

TW: sexy time lmao, long chapter

Based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, not hate to anyone involved.

Tag list: @imusicaddict, anyone else please let me know.

We entered Bavaria in early May, and we had been tasked in capturing Berchtesgaden. It was a town high in the Alps, and was the symbolic home of the Nazi party. Apparently all of the important men of the party had houses there. Even though the man was dead, Hitler had ordered the SS to make it their last stand to keep the enemy out of their “sacred” town. 

I sighed, staring at the mass of boulders that blocked our way up the mountain, the hot sun beating down on my back. We had been stuck here for hours, waiting for someone with more artillery than we did, so we could blast our way through. 

I hummed a tune twirling a curl around my finger, trying to remember all of the words to the song I had stuck in my head. I couldn’t for the life of me remember the lyrics, only the melody played on and on in my mind.     

Lieb leaned against the wheel next to me smoking. “How long does it take for engineers to arrive?” I asked while shielding the sun from my eyes as I looked over to Lieb. 

“Who knows?” He said while taking a deep drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke in my face. 

“Lieb!” I whined pushing him away as he chuckled. 

“Stop humming, you’re driving me insane.” He retorted, shoving me back. “You just keep repeating the same part over and over again. You’re just as bad as Web and his stupid quotes from his literature.” I gawked offended by his comment, no way I was as annoying as Web.  

“Ugh, rude!” I got up from my position, dusting the dirt off the back of my pants. Lieb grinned at me, knowing he had wound me up. 

“Stop smirking!” I nudged his leg with my boot. “Take it back!” I crossed my arms over my chest, giving him my best pissed off face. 

“You’re not as annoying as Web.” Joe held his hands up in surrender. I laughed, smiling down at Lieb, who grinned back at me. 

“What about me?” Web startled me as he snuck up from behind. My eyes grew wide, plastering a smile on my face. 

“Web you need to stop sneaking up on me, seriously.” I burst out laughing, fortunately he hadn’t heard what we were talking about. 

I loved Web, he was so sweet, but his endless love for literature got very tiring. Somehow the conversation with him always ended in his love of books and all things written. Half the time I had no clue what he was talking about, I would nod and smile adding in, “Oh that’s so interesting.” But I wasn’t listening by that point anymore. 

“We were just talking about how long it would take the engineers to arrive.” I skipped over the most recent conversation we had, I didn’t want to hurt the poor man's feelings.  

“I think they are going to try something right now. Everyone is getting tired of waiting.” Web pointed to the pile of rocks that blocked the road. 

I peaked my head over the truck to catch a glimpse of two soldiers standing in the middle of the road with one of the bazooka's we had with us. I covered my ears just in time to muffle the explosion that blasted into the debris.

“I don’t think that will work.” I huffed, it had hardly made a dent in the huge pile. 

“No, but that does look fun.” Web grinned admiring the massive explosion. 

“Yeah!” Lieb launched to his feet. “Web, we should go help.” Web and Joe excitedly nodded at each other racing off to the front of the road.

“Ok, bye.” I said to the pair's back as they enthusiastically scurried away.  

I slumped down again, the same song still stuck in my head. 

“Aw, Em.” A large hand reached down and ruffled my hair. I looked up to find Bull standing over me. 

“They ditched me, for explosives. Can you believe that?” I asked in astonishment. 

A wry grin formed on Bull’s lips, he tilted his head to the side with a hearty chuckle. “I can’t say I am, little lady.” He said in his thick country accent. 

“No you’re right. I’m not shocked.” I laughed, shaking my head. 

I looked over to find Web and Lieb stacking grenades on the landslide of rocks. They sprinted back to where the two other soldiers stood still with the bazooka. Their grin’s were child-like as they ran back. 

Bull and I watched them, laughing at how excited they all seemed to be. Was it really that much fun blowing things up? 

They didn’t wait long, firing the rocket right into the pile of explosives the pair had set. The ground shook, as the booming echoed around the mountains. But still the pile of rocks seemed to remain the same, at least they were having fun. It was nice to see genuine smiles on their faces. 

“Easy!” Speirs yelled from the front of the trucks. “Let’s move out!” Spiers grinned widely with a skip in his step as he made his way back through the parked vehicles. 

“Are we not waiting for the engineers anymore?” I leaned over to Bull. 

“Guess not.” Bull smiled. “We better get moving, come on.” He took me by the crook of my arm, leading the way behind Speirs who was getting together all of Easy so that we could leave. 

*****************************

“It’s so quiet.” I whispered to Don as we walked. He nodded in agreement before turning back to the task at hand. 

Easy Company tiptoed silently down the empty streets, the group had found an alternative route up the mountain. We had been told to be on guard, and to expect the unexpected. 

So the soldiers walked through the streets with their weapons drawn, readying themselves for whatever was waiting for us.   

The town was eerily still, white flags hung from the windows of the houses we passed. The town appeared empty, there was no one present. The deserted village sent shivers up my back. Something that should be so busy and bustling with life now sat forlorn and abandoned.

Still I couldn’t deny that the place was beautiful even in its abandonment. The houses looked cosy and quaint as the tall mountains loomed over the small village. 

My eyes darted from one place to another, taking in all the sights that laid before me. A large red banner caught my attention. 

“Jesus.” I muttered to myself, eyes practically bulging out of my head as I took in the large swastika that covered the building in front of us. 

It was strange to see a symbol that meant peace and well-being have such a sinister feeling now attached to it. 

“Well, they really weren’t hiding it were they.” Grant said from beside me as we both gawked at banner’s. 

“Nope.” I agreed with the man. 

We made our way inside the big building that had ‘​​Berchtesgadener hof’ proudly displayed over the entrance. 

“Was it a hotel?” I leaned over to whisper to Don as we walked inside what appeared to be the foyer. 

“I think so.” Don confirmed. 

Like the town the hotel was just as quiet, no guests seemed to be staying or staff either.

I shied away from the brass sculpture of Hitler, that was prominently displayed in the middle of one of the rooms we walked through as we continued to search the building.  

A clanging made me jump from my skin, we rounded the corner to find a lone clerk being held at gunpoint by Lew. His eyes darted from Nixon to the rather large book that sat on the desk. 

“Looks like a guest book.” I said loudly, glancing over to Lew who nodded his head. 

“Everyone who was anyone signed into this hotel. And now we have all the dates and names of anyone who ever supported Hitler in his plans.” Lew said as he flicked through the book. 

“Guess there are staff after all.” I mused, watching the clerk scamper away.

************************************ 

Don and I walked around together forgetting the mission at hand, being too caught up in the lavish hotel. 

“Should we sneak into one of the rooms? See if the bath works?” Don asked suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows at me. 

“Donald!” I giggled at the man giving him a whack. “No, well. No, we couldn’t. Well.” I debated the very enticing idea. 

“Oh come on! Speirs is probably out there now stealing all the silverware.” Don grinned at me, his fingers finding the nook of my arm to bring me along in his mischief. 

“Fine! We will look, quickly.” I added but not putting up much of a fight as Don dragged me down one of the halls.      

We pried open one of the doors, standing in the entrance way admiring the room. In the middle of the room sat a giant four poster bed. The duvet looked elegant, satin and lace coverings, with large fluffy pillows adorning the head. Across the room a tall window opened up, looking over the alps that surrounded the town. 

Don and I moved further into the room, finding our way into the bathroom, which seemed to be even bigger than the master suite. A white clawfoot bathtub stood proudly in the middle of the space. 

The far side of the room was taken up by a vanity that covered the width of the wall, with large basins that you could bathe in, if you so wished. 

“Fucking hell.” I uttered, completely in awe of it all. 

“Yup!” Don nodded as we looked over all of the interior. Even the ceilings were beautiful, fluffy white clouds and the bluest sky had been painted onto the roof of the bathroom. Gold accents of branches and leaves vined out into the sky. Everywhere my eyes could see the room was filled with exquisite details. 

“It’s stunning.” I couldn’t pick my jaw off the floor. 

“Eh, it’s alright. I’ve seen better.” Don shrugged, not seeming impressed with the glamour. 

“What?! When?” I asked in disbelief. 

“I have, truly.” I shook my head scoffing at him. 

“When?” I eyed him suspiciously. 

“Well.” Don started slowly making his way over to me. His stride was confident, freezing me in place. I sucked in a breath as he drew near, suddenly it wasn’t funny anymore. The look in his eyes sent the butterflies in my stomach into a frenzy. 

“There’s you.” Don had moved closer to me, my back pressed into the cold marble basin. My breath hitched in my throat as he leaned even further into me. 

We weren’t even touching yet, but the way Don took up the space had me stunned into silence. 

“You’ve gone all quiet on me.” He teased, deliberately placing his hands either side of my body, caging me into him.   

Goosebumps rose on my skin, I felt my cheeks flush. How had he turned this around so quickly?

“Emily?” My full name dripped off his tongue, as he smirked at me tilting his head ever so slightly. He knew what he was doing to me. 

I swallowed, trying to find my voice again. 

“What are you doing?” I asked softly, scared if I raised my voice too much it would disturb whatever was happening. 

“Nothing.” Don breathed, leaning further forward. “Is there something you want me to do?” His whispers tickled my neck. I hid away the sensitive skin, turning to meet his gaze. 

My heart pounded in my ears as our eyes locked. His stare was full of want, I almost melted into a puddle right then. 

“Stop teasing me.” I pleaded. The tension was overwhelming but exhilarating at the same time. It felt as if I was a raw nerve, the slightest of touch would set me on fire. 

“Oh my love, I’m not teasing.” Don smiled, but it wasn’t his normal smile. There was another intention behind it. I gasped as his hand cupped my cheek gently tracing over my jawline, it was only a slight brush but I found myself leaning into his palm. He didn’t give me the satisfaction, stealing away the brief contact. 

I glared at the man. Don was clearly teasing me. 

“Don.” I protested, trying to find his hand to bring back up to my face. But instead he found me first, holding my wrist still. 

I tried again with my free hand but it was no use Don had me pinned. 

I groaned in frustration. 

“You’re teasing me.” I whined, huffing. 

My annoyance didn’t seem to deter Don from his antics. He moved forward his mouth inches away from my ear. 

“You have to ask nicely.” Don’s lips brushed over the sensitive skin of my jaw. I suppressed a moan by trapping my lip between my teeth. 

“Please. Donald Malarkey, you have me. Now do something about it.” I challenged him. 

A smile formed on his lips but I only saw it for a split second before his lips crashed into mine. I sighed into the kiss as his hands cupped my face pulling me closer to him. My hands roamed around his body, tracing anything I could get my hands on. I didn’t realise how much tension had built from our last kiss, but I needed him so badly it hurt. 

Don swiftly lifted me up, sitting me on the edge of the basin as we continued to kiss. I opened my mouth as our tongues swirled together. It was an addiction, I couldn’t get enough. I needed him closer. I grabbed at the fabric that impeded me from Don. 

I tugged off his jacket, too busy kissing him to see where I threw it. Don’s hand’s did the same pulling the material from my arms tossing the item to the side. I gasped as he pulled me forward, sliding me to the very edge of the bench. Don pressed himself to me, even with pants on I could feel everything. 

“Off, I need this off!” I said breathlessly, pulling at his collar. I helped him tug off the t-shirt, admiring his body lovingly. I raked my fingers down his chest, sliding my hand below his belt. Don shuddered seemingly immobilised as I palmed his front. 

Don snatched my wrist, a wry grin forming on his features, “We have plenty of time for that later.” 

A pout formed on my lips. He moved forward kissing me gently. Unlike before he savoured the kiss. Don’s lips moved over my face, gently placing kisses at the corners of my lips, by the creases of my eyes, my temples and cheeks. His touch was so soft but everytime he moved to a different spot I could still feel the last caress. 

I captured his face in my hands, my thumbs tracing over his features. With each movement I kissed him gently. 

I sighed in pleasure as Don’s hands found the small of my back pulling me even closer. 

“Take it off.” I begged, needing the fabric that separated us to be removed. Don’s finger’s found the hem of my shirt, slowly dragging it up my body. I arched into him, enjoying the feeling of his fingertips brushing on my skin. 

Don threw my top to the side, I didn’t have the patience to be admired just yet, still sporting a bra. I brought his hands around my back to the clasp. 

He made quick work of the fastening. I felt it loosen from my back as he pulled the straps over my shoulders and down my arms.  

I sat half naked watching Don take me in. He blew out a breath, shaking his head slightly. 

“Fucking hell. And you’re all mine.” Don said to himself, I giggled at him. 

“Donald, stop gawking and kiss me.” I said my tone was playful. But I didn’t need to tell him twice. He moved forward pressing us together, his fingers dragged down my exposed back sending shivers up my spine. 

Don’s head dipped down to my neck slowly trailing his lips down my skin. I leaned back enjoying the feeling of his tongue swirling down my body. I gasped when his mouth latched onto the soft flesh of my chest. 

Don’s lips nipped and sucked, finding his way down to my erect nipple. His other hand massaging my other breast as he assaulted my nipple with his mouth. I leaned my head back, mouth open in pleasure, moans and gasps fell from my lips in hasty succession. 

He moved to my other breast giving it the same treatment as the previous. I panted and bucked against him, the feeling of his kisses and hands sending me spiralling. 

“Fuck! Holy fuck.” I groaned watching him enjoy me. The wetness between my legs somehow grew more. I pulled his face back up to mine, needing his lips on my own again. 

My hands snaked down to his pants, trying my best to undo his belt while not being able to see. It was harder than I thought, after a while of fumbling around I finally pulled away to glance down at what I was doing. 

“Desperate?” Donald asked, smirking. I didn’t even deny it, breathlessly nodding my head while still trying to yank the belt from his pants. 

“I have waited far too long for a belt to put a stop to it.” I groaned, still failing at the simple job. 

“You’ve waited, oh my love, you don’t know the half of it.” Donald’s hands found mine, taking over the task. I watched him easily pull the belt free and remove it from his trousers. Don undid the button, loosening them around his hips. I greedily licked my lips moving my hands to his waistband tugging them down. I bit my lip, a shy smile formed on my mouth. 

I couldn’t wait any longer, my own hands unbuttoning my pants and trying my best to shimmy them down while still being perched on the counter. 

“So impatient!” Don tutted, his arms lifting me so I could successfully pull down my clothing. 

I kicked off the green cargo pants, leaving us both in just our underwear. I giggled, somehow the innocent looking in the rooms had gotten out of hand. 

Don kissed me again, his fingers lazily dragging around my body and into my hair. I did the same, tangling my fingers in his and pulling gently. A low moan left his lips as he moved his mouth over mine. The electricity between us was almost palpable, with every touch and sound I could feel the lustful energy flowing through my body. 

I yelped in surprise as Don lifted me so easily from the basin. I didn’t look where he was taking us too busy assaulting his face and neck with kisses. 

We landed gently on the decadent bed, but Don and I were too enraptured in each other to truly appreciate the comfort of the soft mattress and the silk sheets against our skin. 

Don ran his fingers down my side, teasingly stopping around the hem of my underwear. He pulled it back, snapping the waistband against my skin. In the same movement Don dipped his head down, trailing soft kisses down my skin and stopping near my collarbone to nip at the sensitive skin.  

His hand slipped down between my thighs, caressing around my hips. I rocked back, eyes closed in pleasure. I couldn’t stifle the loud moans that fell from my lips. 

I could feel his smirk as he placed more feverish kisses around my navel, his hands roaming around my thighs never quite landing where I needed them too. Don was making me beg for it. 

Don’s touch continued down towards my hips, his lips finding the right spots to make me squirm and bite my lip in desperation. 

“Don.” I pleaded through my pants.  

“Yes my love?” He said with a smirk, as his kisses wandered down, his touch still tantalising and teasing. I could feel Don’s breath against my core, as he continued to run his fingers along my inner thighs.

“Stop teasing me!” I whined. 

Don chuckled at my pleading, looking up at me with a devilish smile. I watched as he bit my inner thigh gently in response. 

“Beg for it.” He said in a low husky voice that was filled with desire. 

“Please Donald, make me feel alive!” I begged, feeling so vulnerable in his arms. 

“I love you.” Don said before he pulled my underwear from my body, taking his time admiring me placing sweet kisses to the soft skin between my legs. I groaned as his mouth found my core, his hot tongue swirling over my bud of nerves. 

I cried out in pleasure as he feasted on me, I gripped onto his hair hanging on for dear life as he shook me to my core. I trembled in ecstasy as Don’s tongue dipped inside of me.   

Don seemed to enjoy seeing me come undone, moaning against my core. His fingers slipped inside of me pulling in and out with force. 

I threw my head back screaming into my free hand that covered my mouth. I arched and bucked against his every move. Don’s free hand pinned me to the bed to stop me from escaping the overwhelming feeling that rippled throughout my body. 

He sucked and nipped at my sensitive core as he worked his fingers in and out of my entrance. 

Bright colours swarmed my vision as I shook, I had reached my climax. I held onto Don, the only thing that seemed to be grounding me to reality. It felt as if I had left my body, floating above the scene that was playing before me. Don did not stop his movements, riding out the orgasm as long as he could. 

My breath left me as I writhed under his touch, I didn’t think that it could last long, but I was still overcome by my euphoric satisfaction.    

Finally he let me come down, pulling away from my core. I caught my breath, eyes still closed trying to come back to the real world, rather than the cloud I was floating on. 

“I think you were trying to kill me.” I panted as Don moved back up to kiss me gently on my lips. 

“What’s more alive than being nearly half dead?” Don chuckled as he lay against me, his fingers tangling into my hair and pulling me towards him. He rested his forehead against mine, our breaths mixing together as we enjoyed the quiet moment. 

I closed my eyes enjoying the simple sounds, his soft breaths fanning on my face, and the quiet heartbeat that pulsed against my own chest. I kissed him again, I kissed him like I would never see him again. 

My hands travelled down his torso, it was my turn to show him how much I loved him. I palmed his hard cock through his underwear. Don groaned into my mouth, keeping his eyes squeezed shut. 

I trailed my kisses down his neck, chest and stomach. Don sighed in pleasure, lying his head back against the bed. Every touch under his hands and the feeling of his skin on mine, I felt the love and desire he had for me, I wanted him to feel the same as I kissed him. I wanted to make him want me more than ever.  

I let my tongue drag down his hips, swirling over the sensitive skin. I needed to drive him insane with desire, like he had me only moments before. 

Tugging down his briefs his hard cock sprung free. I tossed the item of clothing to the side. I bit my lip taking in his size, how he had hidden that from me I had no idea. I wrapped my hand around the base stroking my thumb gently up the shaft. Don shuddered under my grip, groaning huskily. 

Don propped himself up on his elbows and I started slowly moving my hand up and down his length. I licked my lips desperately wanting to taste him. 

“Jesus christ Emily, you’re going to be the death of me.” Don muttered a mix of shock and pleasure on his face. 

I grinned. I continued to stare at him as I moved forward, my tongue darting out to swirl around his tip. His cock twitched in my hand, Don looked as if he was going to pass out. 

“Now who’s teasing?” He leaned forward brushing a curl out of my face. I wrapped my lips around him sucking. Donald inhaled sharply tensing under my touch. I moved further down, bringing more of him into my mouth. Don’s breaths grew uneven as I continued. 

I bobbed my head up and down, taking as much of him as I could into my throat. My hand still gripped the base of his cock moving as I sucked and licked. 

“Oh god!” Donald moaned watching me with lust filled eyes. 

I pulled back sucking in air as I continued to massage his cock with my hand. Don gripped onto the bed sheets panting heavily. His fingers weaved into my hair, gripping just as tightly as he was the fabric under him. I continued my assault, my pace becoming faster. 

“Don’t stop my love.” He begged, he was almost to his limit. I did as he asked, continuing my rhythm. 

“I’m going to cum!” Don whined pulling back from me, but I held his hips steady, looking up at him through my lashes. I wanted to taste him like he tasted me. I didn’t stop, bobbing my head and sucking. I felt his body jolt under me, hot liquid filled my mouth as I watched Don’s eyes roll back in his head.      

“Em.” Don breathed, sitting up from his position and moving down to where I knelt between his legs. His hands cupped my face peppering my skin with light kisses. Don pulled me up to him, as we laid back down against the bed, limbs tangled and bodies entwined. A moment of pure serenity as we embraced each other, basking in the warmth of one another. 

“I love you.” I whispered as we gazed into each other’s eyes. 

“I love you.” Don lips brushed against my skin. 

“Guys we’re leaving!” The door burst open as Babe and George sauntered into the room. Both Don and I screamed in surprise, scrambling to hide ourselves. Don dove over me, covering my body with his. His ass out in the wind for all to see. George and Babe’s eyes bulged seeing their friends bare butt pointing right in their direction. 

“Get out!!” Don screeched, as I hid beneath him trying to contain my fit of giggles.

“Oh my god!” George gasped covering his mouth as Babe stared wide eyed at us. 

“Guys get the fuck out, right now!!” Don demanded the men leave. But it still didn’t work, the pair didn’t budge. 

“What is going on here?” George asked through bouts of laughter he shared with Babe. 

Don grabbed the nearest pillow chucking at the heads of the two men who were crying with laughter. 

“OUT!” Don yelled, but he was trying not to laugh as well. I wrapped my arms around his waist keeping him close to me. Don was the only thing keeping my naked body out of sight of the pair of idiots who howled with laughter in the still wide open door. 

“Fine, we will go. But it’s going to cost you.” George waggled his finger at us as he hauled the still hysterical Babe out of the room. The door clicked shut, as it did so both Don and I sighed in relief. 

“You didn’t lock the door!” I playfully smacked his chest as he grinned down at me. 

“Neither did you!” But we couldn’t stop our own giggles from escaping our lips.

#band of brothers #hbo war #donald malarkey #band of brothers fanfic #easy company #dick winters #fanfic #bill guarnere #band of brothers imagine #emily lane #my oc #MEDIC #babe hefferon #george luz #chuck grant #bull randelman #liebgott #its kinky time mf #I know you been waiting #I did say a slow burn #so my bad #but now they have some down time #if you get what I mean

[coco-bean-1218]

Well-Behaved Women Never Make History

Chapter One: Something In The Way

Chapter Soundtrack

Summary: Claire leaves her home and starts her journey to Camp Toccoa.

A/N: Hello, everyone!! Welcome to Chapter One of Well-Behaved Women Never Make History! I am very excited to finally start this story and share it with all of you! I hope you enjoy and feel free to like, comment, and reblog!

Warnings: Swearing, period-typical behavior

Taglist: @whollyjoly @footprintsinthesxnd @panzershrike-pretz @xxluckystrike

Credits: Moodboard 1 made by @xxluckystrike Moodboard 2 made by @footprintsinthesxnd Thank you both so much!!!

June, 1942

Detroit, Michigan

10 a.m. Eastern Time

———

Detroit's Union Station was a bustling hub of wartime activity, its vast halls echoing with the hurried footsteps of soldiers and civilians alike. The morning sun streamed through the tall windows, casting long shadows over the faces of families clustered around their loved ones. Amidst them stood Claire O'Connor, surrounded by an imposing fortress of luggage, her dark brown hair pulled back into victory rolls, dark red lipstick painted on her lips, her stoic expression betraying none of the apprehension swirling inside her. 

"Damn, Claire, are you planning to open a boutique down there?" Emma, her older sister, teased, one hand affectionately resting on her sister's shoulder while her eyes danced with mirth at the sight of the luggage.

Claire offered a wry smile, pushing up her glasses with a finger. "Hey, you know me, I'm always prepared," she quipped, the edge of her humor tinged with nerves. "You can never have too many pairs of underwear."

Their father, Mr. O'Connor, chuckled, adjusting his glasses with a patient smile. "War or no war, I don't think the enemy will care much for your matching luggage set."

"Ha-ha, very funny, Dad," Claire retorted, a tight smile betraying her simmering nerves. Peyton stood beside Claire, a single duffel bag slung over her shoulder, her posture composed—a sharp contrast to Claire's cluttered state.

Mrs. O'Connor, Claire and Emma's mother, clucked her tongue as she adjusted one of the smaller bags atop a mountainous suitcase. "You've got enough to last through the war and back, honey bee," she said, her voice equal parts exasperation and concern. "Remember, you're going to be a medic, not a debutante."

"I know, Mom. It's just—" Claire hesitated, biting her lip. "It feels like I'm packing up my entire world."

"Because you are," Peyton interjected softly, coming to stand beside Claire. Her own belongings were neatly consolidated into her single bag, the stark contrast between the friends' preparations mirroring their differing paths. Peyton's mom stood a few feet away, her pride battling the sorrow in her eyes.

"First time for everything, right?" Claire continued, her attempt at levity falling flat in her own ears. Her gaze shifted between the faces of her family and Peyton, trying to memorize them before the journey ahead.

"Exactly. It's an adventure, Claire," Peyton replied, reaching out to give Claire's hand a reassuring squeeze. "Just think of the stories we'll have to share."

"Right," Claire forced a chuckle. "Yours will probably be publishable. Mine will be too bloody to print."

"Your sense of humor is as dark as ever," Peyton replied.

The arrival of Peyton's train sliced through the air, the shrill whistle echoing off the station walls. The machine billowed steam like a specter of change, heralding the imminent departure. Everyone's attention turned to the locomotive, its metallic body gleaming beneath the Michigan sun.

"Train for Des Moines now boarding!" the announcement cut through their conversation with the sharpness of a knife. 

"Guess that's my cue," Peyton said, her usual grace faltering just a bit. 

"Promise me you'll write?" Claire's voice was steady, but her brown eyes betrayed her anxiety. 

"Every chance I get," Peyton promised, pulling Claire into a fierce hug. "And don't go falling for any charming soldiers without telling me first."

"Who, me?" Claire managed a smirk. "Charm isn't exactly my Achilles' heel, you know that."

"I know, but stranger things have happened," Peyton said with a knowing look. "Just promise me you won't shut yourself off from the possibility of love."

"Oh, I'll keep an eye out for any dashing heroes trying to sweep me off my feet," Claire replied dryly. "But don't hold your breath."

With a final squeeze, Peyton released her friend and turned to her mother, enveloping her in a long hug before stepping back with a brave nod. 

"Go get 'em, journalist!" Claire called after her, her teasing tone belying the tightness in her chest.

Peyton turned at the steps of the train, grinning broadly. "Wait for my bylines, Claire! They'll be front page before you know it!"

As Peyton disappeared into the train, Claire watched the doors slide shut, her heart sinking with the finality of the moment. A lump formed in her throat as she waved goodbye to Peyton, her best friend whom she had known since childhood. The train let out a low rumble, lurching into motion, gradually picking up speed and pulling away from the platform.

"Godspeed, Peyton Nelson," Claire whispered, more to herself than anyone else.

Nearly an hour later, the shrill whistle of Claire's train tore through the lingering silence, signaling the impending departure and severing the last tenuous threads tethering her to home. Her family clustered around her like a protective shroud, their faces etched with pride and worry.

"Here it is," her father said, his voice thick with unspoken emotions.

"Looks like it," Claire agreed, hoisting her suitcase with a grunt. Her hands trembled slightly, the weight of her decision settling on her shoulders along with the overstuffed leather.

"Train for Atlanta now boarding," the conductor called out, his voice a steady beacon amidst the clamor.

"Remember to keep your head down and help others do the same," her father said, "And look out for yourself."

"Can't make any promises," Claire quipped, "But I'll do what I can."

"Let's just hope the Army's ready for you," Mrs. O'Connor added, a twinkle in her eye that mirrored Claire's own spark of defiance. "They won't know what hit 'em!" Her embrace was tight, a desperate attempt to imprint the feeling of her daughter onto her very soul. 

"I'll write every single day until you're sick of me!" Claire promised, offering a watery smile. "And when I come back, maybe I'll have a dashing paratrooper to introduce to you. Wouldn't that be something?"

Mrs. O'Connor winked at her daughter, “A fiery girl like you rarely returns with just tales of heroism and bravery. You're bound to turn a few heads, I'm sure of it!"

Laughter bubbled up from Emma, cutting through the tension like a lifeline thrown across turbulent waters. "Oh, brother, that poor man!" her sister said, hugging her tightly.

Her dad chuckled, the lines around his eyes deepening. "Just make sure he knows how to handle a fearless woman." 

"And don't let those men step all over you," her mother added in a firm tone, "You know what I say, 'Men ain't shit,' except for your father, of course."

"You know me, I don't like toxic masculinity," Claire replied with a smirk.

As the conductor's voice reverberated through the station once more, signaling the imminent departure of Claire's train, she picked up her mountain of baggage and stepped onto the platform. Claire climbed the steps of the train but paused at the top to cast a final glance at her loved ones. "Bye! Wish me luck!" she called out.

With a deep breath that did little to steady her heart, she entered the train. Claire made her way down the narrow aisle, finding a seat by the window in the last car, where the world could unfurl before her like a map of possibilities. As the vehicle jerked forward, she pressed her palm against the glass, maintaining eye contact with her parents and Peyton's mother until the station was nothing but a speck in the distance.

She settled into the rhythm of the rails, the clack-clack of wheels turning over tracks like a metronome counting down to her new reality. The heat was oppressive air thickening in the cramped space, sticking her blouse to her back and making her glasses slide down her nose. 

As the landscape outside blurred into a collage of greens and browns, Claire pulled out "The Great Gatsby" from her bag. She immersed herself in the opulent tragedy of Gatsby's world, finding a strange comfort in the characters' doomed pursuits. "I always thought of myself as Gatsby and Noah as Daisy." she thought to herself, a wistful smile tugging at the corners of her lips. 

Hours melded together, marked only by the rhythmic sway of the train and the occasional jostle of fellow passengers. When the heat became too oppressive, she switched to Freud, his theories a stark contrast to Gatsby's opulence and glittering disillusionment. "Id, ego, and superego," she mused aloud, her voice lost in the clatter of the train. "Which one got me into this mess? Freud would have a field day with me."

As dusk began to paint the sky with strokes of burnt orange and dusky violet, Claire pulled out a sheet of paper and began a letter to her mom. Her pen hovered above the page before it skated across, detailing the mundane aspects of her journey—never hinting at the undercurrent of fear that gnawed at her insides. "Dear Mom," she wrote, "the scenery is beautiful, although it's hard to appreciate fully when you're being slowly roasted."

Her hand hesitated, hovering above the paper as memories of Noah surfaced unbidden. Claire reached into her handbag and retrieved a photograph. It showed her and Noah, side by side, innocent smiles frozen in time under the banner of their high school graduation. Their graduation gowns billowed like hopeful sails, caps thrown mid-air, smiles wide and oblivious to the future. "Oh, Noah," she whispered, tracing the outline of his face. "Always fixing things, but never saw what was broken." 

Her fingers traced the lines of his face, the awkward angle of his glasses—a mirror image of her own. She wondered where he was at this exact moment, if the sea was kind to him, or if the churn of the engine lulled him to sleep each night. "Be safe," she whispered into the fading light, her lips brushing against the cool surface of the picture. The train carried her onward, through the dusk and into a future as uncertain as the war itself.

The night stretched before her, each mile a note in a song of departure and anticipation. Claire leaned her head against the window, watching towns and fields blur by, while inside, her heart beat a staccato rhythm of longing and fear—an intricate dance of the times.

As the morning sun pierced through the curtains, bathing the train compartment in a soft golden glow, Claire stirred awake, her cheek imprinted with the pattern of the window's glass. She blinked groggily as she stood up and reached for her luggage to retrieve a fresh outfit from her suitcase. 

Stepping into the narrow hallway of the train car, Claire made her way towards the washroom at the end. The rocking motion of the train beneath her feet quickened her pace, her hand steadying on the metal railing that lined the corridor. 

She reached the washroom door and gave it a gentle push, stepping inside and locking it behind her. The tiny room was a welcome refuge from the constant movement of the train. Claire changed into her fresh clothes — a burnt orange and white striped blouse and matching orange skirt that billowed softly around her knees — and stuffed yesterday’s clothing into a laundry bag. 

As she adjusted the collar of her blouse, the train lurched unexpectedly, causing her to stumble mid-button. Catching herself on the sink, she cursed under her breath and quickly finished dressing. 

With her heart still hammering in her chest from the sudden movement, Claire took a moment to collect herself before unlocking the door and stepping back into the hallway. 

Upon reaching her seat, the conductor’s voice echoed through the car, announcing their arrival in Atlanta. Claire collected her books and the letter to her mother, tucking them into her bag next to Noah's photograph. With a hefty sigh, she hoisted her bags—one, two, three—onto her shoulders and hips, a cumbersome dance that drew snickers from a couple of soldiers nearby. Atlanta, the city humming with the war effort and Southern charm, sprawled out before her, daunting in its vastness.

The stifling heat of Georgia smothered Claire the moment she stepped off the train, a harsh welcome to the South. She maneuvered through the bustling station, dragging her excessive luggage behind her, the clicking of her heels lost in the shuffle of footsteps and the murmur of countless conversations. 

The bus was already rumbling when Claire approached it, and as she climbed aboard, she felt every eye bore into her. She was a curiosity— a woman unaccompanied by a man among rows of young soldiers whose lives were set on a wartime metronome.

"Camp Toccoa," she said firmly to the bus driver, who raised an eyebrow but handed her the ticket without comment.

"Hey, doll, you boarding with all that?" one of the soldiers called out, nodding towards her luggage pile.

"Unless you see it sprouting legs and walking itself on, yes," Claire retorted, her voice edged with the wit she wielded like armor.

Another soldier piped up, "What's your story? Headed to entertain the troops?"

"Medic training," she clipped, pushing her glasses up her nose with a stubborn tilt of her chin. "I'll be patching up your sorry asses on the battlefield. Consider yourselves lucky."

Murmurs rippled through the bus as she maneuvered to an empty seat at the back, her bags wedged between her and the aisle. The curious glances didn't cease, though they became more surreptitious. Claire could feel the weight of their stares, the silent question marks punctuating the air around her. 

"Never seen a dame wanting to be in the thick of it," a soldier across the aisle muttered to his neighbor. "She's got guts, I'll give her that."

"Or she's crazy," the other replied, not unkindly.

"Both," Claire interjected before she could stop herself, eliciting a few chuckles. It was an odd sensation, this camaraderie laced with isolation. She hunkered down in her seat, pulling out her unfinished letter to her mom, and tried to resume writing, but the words seemed frivolous now, floating aimlessly on the page. Instead, she tucked the letter away, leaning her forehead against the cool window glass, allowing her thoughts to drift.

"Hey, combat medic," the same soldier ventured again after a few moments, "You got a fella waiting for you back home?"

Claire answered, staring blankly at the seat in front of her, "Nope."

The soldier whistled low. "Well, that's a damn shame. A pretty gal like you, brave enough to sign up for this mess," he said, gesturing to the bus full of soldiers. "There must be plenty of fellas fighting over you back there."

Claire chuckled bitterly. "Fighting over me? More like running in the opposite direction," she replied, a self-deprecating smile tugging at her lips. 

The soldier's eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and disbelief. "Nah, I can't believe that. A dame like you? Trust me, there ain't a fella worth his salt who wouldn't be lining up for a chance with you."

Claire sighed, her eyes fixed on the soldier's earnest expression. "Well, I guess they must have missed the memo," she retorted with a forced chuckle.

"I'm Danny, by the way," the soldier said, extending his hand towards Claire.

"Claire," she replied, shaking his hand. 

Danny had thick, dark hair and eyebrows, deep brown eyes, and a slight stubble showing he had recently shaved. He was handsome, no doubt about it.

"You said you're gonna be a combat medic, right?" Danny asked, genuine curiosity in his eyes. "At Camp Toccoa, if I heard you correctly. Ain't that where the paratroopers train?"

Claire nodded, a glimmer of defiance in her eyes. "Yeah, that's right. We'll be jumping out of perfectly good planes."

Danny whistled, impressed. "Well, I'll be damned. I could never. I'd crash land, splattering my guts everywhere like a burst tomato."

Claire laughed, "Thanks for the visual. I'll think of that as I plummet to my death."

When the bus finally came to a halt, the driver's voice announced, "Camp Toccoa, final stop!"

Claire stood and wrestled with her suitcases once more. Danny offered to help, but she politely declined. With a determined stride, she walked down the narrow aisleway towards the steps. 

"Good luck, Miss Medic!" Danny called out.

"Yeah, you too, Dollface," she teased with a wink. With a final heave, she managed to walk down the steps of the bus into the sweltering heat. 

"Watcha thinkin', Danny?" his companion next to him asked.

Danny grinned, shaking his head, “Nothin’ much," he replied, his gaze set on Claire as she stood outside the entrance to the camp.

The camp sprawled before Claire, a collection of low-lying buildings nestled amidst the dense Georgia forest. Stepping onto the dirt road, she was greeted by the stark white letters on the wooden sign: 'Camp Toccoa.'

She stood there, alone now, the dust settling around her feet. Before her lay a path lined with uncertainty, with courage demanded and comfort stripped away. To enter meant embracing her choice fully, to become part of something far greater than herself. 

---

#yes I did use Stephen Sanchez as a face claim #and what about it? #well behaved women never make history #wbwnmh #band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers oc #band of brothers x ofc #my first oc story #my oc #easy company #hbo war #eugene roe #eugene roe x ofc #chuck grant #chuck grant x ofc

[noneedtoamputate]

Hellooo! Could I request #3. Gold and/or #19. Honouring for a pairing of your choice for the November prompts please? Thank you! <3

Thanks so much for the ask! This prompt help me get out of my writing funk, so I hope you like it. It's mostly number three, but I snuck in number nineteen, too.

Chuck straddled that state where he could go back to sleep for another hour or force himself to stretch and start the day. 

Still debating which option to take, he noticed the room smelled unfamiliar. The bedspread felt different, too.

The awake part of his brain asked questions. The asleep part mumbled one-word answers.

Why does the bed feel different? 

Hotel.

Why am I in a hotel?

Wedding.

Why is there a ring on my finger?

Married.

He sat up quickly and saw his tux and her blue negligee scattered on the floor. He remembered City Hall, and the courtroom, and Ellen walking down the short aisle in a white dress, carrying a bouquet of tulips, looking so beautiful he had to take a deep breath to stop the tears that welled up in his eyes. He remembered her putting the ring on his finger, as she promised to love and honor him all the days of her life. 

He looked to his right. His wife had escaped his spoon sometime during the night, her bare back just peeking out from the cover. 

His wife.

He wanted to wake her up, wrap his arms around her, and start where they left off the night before, but they had the rest of the day for that, didn’t they?

They had the rest of their lives.

Instead, he let her sleep, and he twirled the band with his right thumb and pointer finger. 

He remembered asking her about the rings - plural, with an s - and her face turned up with a shy, surprised smile. 

“You’re going to wear a ring?” she asked. 

More and more guys wore rings nowadays, but it wasn’t at all assumed. Ellen clearly hadn’t assumed it, given her reaction.

He nodded. “Doesn’t seem fair that you’re the only one who gets gold out of this whole thing,” he said sarcastically, then looked at her, serious this time.

“And I love you.”

That was the main reason he wanted to wear a ring, that he loved her. But there was another reason, too, a reason so personal that he didn’t feel he could share it with Ellen, the person he trusted more than anyone.

Through time and hard work, his injuries improved. He speech, although slow, wasn’t halting like it had been even a few years ago. He learned what triggered his migraines, so he didn’t have them as often. Pain medication helped, and he worked with his doctor on the correct dosage. 

But his left hand never improved. The countless hours at the occupation therapist and the physical therapist and doing exercises at home didn’t make a difference. 

His hand look completely normal. Unless someone knew or looked very closely at how it hung slightly strange, no one would guess it was paralyzed. Even last night, the bellhop gave him a look when he carried in his suitcase and Ellen held her own. 

Making the lady carry her own bag, his smirk seemed to shout at Chuck. 

He’d stare at his hand, willing it to do what he wanted. The anger, even hate, he had for it was strong. At times, he thought it would have been better if it had been blown off or amputated. It would be gone, not mocking him. No one would expect him to use this useless appendage. Then he would think of Toye or Bill or the other poor bastards who had actually lost limbs and feel like an asshole for his bout of self-pity. But he didn’t know how or if he would ever get over it.

After the engagement, he noticed the men wearing rings. For the first time in six years, he looked at his left hand was glad it was still there, glad it could still do one thing he wanted it to do.

His left hand wasn’t useless now, even if he couldn’t grab or hold. It had a purpose. Look, I’m Ellen Grant’s husband. She could have her pick of anyone, and she chose me. 

He felt her roll over to his side of the bed. 

“Good morning. How’s my wife?” he asked.

“Exhausted, in a good way,” she said, sleepily. “And hungry, in a bad way. Can we go downstairs and get breakfast?”

He straddled her and shook his head. “Room service,” he answered.

He called in the order. Steak and eggs, French toast, a carafe of coffee, and a pot of tea. 

“You have thirty minutes,” she said, challenging him, kissing his neck and raking her nails down his chest.

Chuck wouldn’t tell her today - there were other things to do, in this room with the enormous bed, in this hotel where people made and delivered food when asked. But one day, when they were driving to the grocery store or sitting on a porch swing, he would tell the woman he loved the other reason why he wanted to wear a wedding ring. 

After all, they had the rest of their lives.

#asked and answered #every beautiful thing #chuck grant #ellen thompson #fan fic #band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers fan fiction

[mrs-murder-daddy]

This is my entry in the HBOWarDaily's Short Story Exchange! This is written for the wonderful @rosemarynightmares-art

A/N: I tried to make it vague about where in Europe the reader is from but she is in England for some reason. Why? Who knows? Also this title has nothing to do with the fic I just like the sound of it

TW: Brief mentions of sexual harassment committed against Chuck but it's not graphic or explicit, outdated ideas about masculinity and unwanted sexual advances

I Should've Known It Was Strange You Only Come Out at Night

Chuck Grant x Reader

It's a cold night in Aldbourne, the perfect night to be rugged up in your nice warm bed. Instead you're out celebrating with friends. Betty had scored a date with a handsome American soldier and naturally the rest of your friends thought it was a reason for celebration.

The pub was packed, half of the patrons were the American soldiers and the other half were young people from Aldbourne (and surrounding villages), eager to catch a peak at them. Your friends quickly began their drinking, never without a pint. You decided to pace yourself, ready to keep an eye on them.

When Betty nearly fell out of her chair on her way to get another round, you suggested she accompany you to the bathroom. You helped splash her face and fix her hair. Then you made your way back out. You did a little head count, making sure no little sheep got lost.

You only counted four. There was a fifth, where was the fifth? You sat Betty down at the table and asked the girls to look after each other while you found your fifth. You strained to look through the crowd, the loud hubbub of conversation distracting you. Then you spotted her. Her red hair wasn't hard to miss, it matched Betty's so sweetly.

Clara was not your friend really, she was Betty's little sister who 'just had to come see the men' with you all. She was freshly 18 and a very naive 18 at that. You waded through the crowd to grab her attention when you noticed something off. She had cornered a man, a very handsome man.

She had him backed against a booth seat and her hand was placed rather high on his leg. His face was nothing short of discomfort.

You didn't mean to be quite so violent but you pulled her arm hard to get her away.

"Clara! What do you think you're doing?" You shouted and pushed her not-so-gently back towards your table. You turned to the man and asked, "Are you alright?"

He seemed to snap out of some distant expression and turned on the charm. "Better now you're here."

You saw through it though, "I won't make excuses for her but I do feel I should apologise for her behaviour."

The soldier sniffed and tried to shrug it off, "Nah it's flattering to get that kind of attention."

You decided to let it go, but continued, pointing over your shoulder, "Look I have to herd them all home but if you wanted me to walk with you too, or come back here and check in with you I can."

He got a strange little smile on his face. "I think I'd like that."

You did exactly as you said, coming back to find the man nursing another beer.

He smiled up at you gently as if he didn't expect you to follow through.

"You know you can tell me honestly, are you okay? What Clara did isn't right."

He looked into his pint glass as if it had the answers but instead he found nothing. He just shook his head.

You nodded in understanding and instead held your hand out to shake his. You gave him your name and he gave his.

Chuck Grant. Well it certainly sounded like an American name.

"Hey do you wanna get out of here?" He said suddenly.

"Uh, I'm not sure that's a good idea after… you know…"

Chuck laughed a little too loud and clarified. "No I meant just for a walk or something, it's too loud in here."

You weren't sure why but you agreed. He offered his arm for you to link up and led you outside, ignoring the whistles and catcalls.

While you walked, you spoke about many things. Life back home, what you'd be doing if it weren't for the war, and what you hoped life would be like after. About ten minutes in, you began to shiver. It was much colder than you expected.

Chuck stopped and began to shuck off his jacket, ready to offer it to you. You protested immediately and offered shyly if you could share it.

He smiled and held his arm up for you to tuck under. You looked for confirmation before wrapping your arm around his waist.

The walk back to your sharehouse was one of warm conversation, both literally and figuratively. You were tucked into a handsome man's coat and he… well he had the prettiest girl in Europe under his arm.

#band of brothers x reader #hbowarshort23 #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers fanfiction #chuck grant x reader

[ithinkabouttzu]

I wanted to ask if you could do a part three to the sleeping with you for the first time headcanon❤️

Yes ofc thank you for the request! Let me know if there’s any specific ppl you want me to add on to my reactions too if you like!! 🩵

BoB reaction to sleeping with you for the first time pt.3 (18+)

genre: Smut, romance

warnings: degrading, manhandling, dirty talk, smut

Description: The BoB guys reaction to doing *it* with you for the first time

Carwood Lipton

Okay let me tell you something, he is a complete angel the WHOLE ENTIRE TIME, he would ask you multiple times if you were comfortable with doing stuff and if you weren’t to let him know. He would be so gentle with you, making sure he doesn’t hurt you at all, “Are you alright sweetheart? Let me know if I hurt you” Also, he is a KING at foreplay, like he will be pleasing you in an out for hours if you’d let him. Literally you would have to beg him to fuck you for him to actually move on from foreplay. When it actually comes down to it tho, he just can’t help himself, he’d ask you if you’re okay one last time, before thrusting in and out of you with high speed. He’d be reassuring while fucking you too. like, “Are you okay my princess/prince?” “You’re making me feel so good precious” UGH he’s just amazing, not to mention how afterwards he’d be so sweet and soft with you. If you want food or water, anything like that he’ll make make sure to get you some too

Ron Speirs

Oh honey, you better get READYY, because he will surely tire the hell out of you omg 😭, he’d have his hands all over your body, grabbing and pulling on each and every part of you, I also think he’d be really big on dirty talk, every time he’d kiss a spot of you he’d remind you what he loves about that part, (he’s amazing omg) Ugh he’s so rough and passionate too (in a good way ofc) pulling your hair, spanking you, the man is DIRTY okay, Once you guys actually started, he would waste no time, grabbing, pulling, and going at an extremely fast pace. Again, he’d be dirty talking you, telling you how good your doing, also maybe a little degrading too (if you’re into that) like, “How’s my little slut, am I fucking you good? Huh?” He might even flip you around, I actually think he’d love manhandling you, he’d pull you up and around, on your back, on your stomach, literally anywhere, afterwards, he’s a bit more calmer, asking you if you need anything, he might get you a water or something, but he usually passes out when you guys are done.

Chuck Grant

He honestly wouldn’t even know what to think when you opened up to the idea of doing it. He would be a gentleman at first, going very slow, feeling his around your body, just getting you more comfortable with his touch until getting more passionate with his hands, then kissing you up and down. leaving little love bites all over your neck for you display later, I think he’d like when you praise him, like that would really get him going. “You like it babe, are you okay?” He’s still such a gentleman though. When you guys actually start doing it, he just can’t control himself, he turns into a whole animal, going in and out of you at a rapid pace, and grabbing your hands back behind your head, pinning you down under him. “You like that doll? You feel so good” Ugh he’s literally amazing. After he’s even sweeter, kissing on you, with hands down some of the best cuddles ever, he’d be so extra sweet, telling you how good you did and how much he loves you, “You did so good for me baby. I love you so much”

#ithinkabouttzu #band of brothers #band of brothers reaction #band of brothers react #band of brothers fluff #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers oneshots #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers smut #band of brothers reactions #carwood lipton #ronald speirs #chuck grant

[kafka-ohdear]

what is that long-distance boyfriends behavior

#band of brothers #bob cast #help #rereading the two only chuck/skinny fanfics on ao3 for the 6th time in a day #goin feral #chuck grant #skinny sisk #philip barantini #nolan hemmings

[softguarnere]

I’m in love with your pining HC! Can we get some for Bull and Chuck please?

Omg, thank you anon! I'm glad that everyone seems to like reading them as much as I've enjoyed writing them :) (At this point I hope we'll end up making it through the whole company) I hope you like these! 💕🕊️

Bull

It is absolutely no secret that he's got a crush on you. Anyone can tell from the way he looks at you, how he speaks so highly of you

Bull is kind of an intimidating guy, but when he's around you his expression just softens and he hangs onto your every word

Acts 👏 of 👏 service 👏 type 👏 of 👏 man! He knows that you're capable of taking care of yourself, but he'll still offer to help you just because he's a gentleman and his mama raised him right

"Hey, (Y/N), you need help carrying those supplies?" "No thanks, I got it!" (Luz: "Hey, Bull! You gonna offer to help me?" Bull: "No :)")

He knows that you're capable of looking out for yourself in combat, but he always breathes a sigh of relief when he sees that you're okay and he always checks on you first because obviously

Everyone knows he's got feelings for you, and you like him back, but even though he's one of your closest friends, you're worried that you might say the wrong thing and mess things up between you

You're distraught after Carentan because he's gone, and you're worried, and you don't know what you would do without him

So when he comes back you can't even help it -- you run straight to him and throw your arms around him, scolding him because "Do you know how worried I was about you?! I love you too much to lose you!"

When he had been trying to get back to Easy, he had been worried about you the entire time, and hearing you say that makes it feel like fireworks are going off in his heart

That's the moment you both know that you can't live without each other, and you're never out of each other's sight for the rest of the war

Chuck

When I say that this man is in awe of you

He has no clue what to do with his feelings for you. Do you like him back? Would you even want to start a relationship in the middle of a war?

Because he's on the quieter side and is an observant person by nature, he spends a lot of time just kind of admiring you from afar because he's not sure how to approach you

And you're like, "Who's this cute guy that just looks at me across the room like 🧍‍♂️?" Not in a bad way though! It's just that you're both a bit uncertain and intimidated by what could happen next

Then one weekend everyone is out on passes, and when you come back to barracks that evening, everyone is kind of staring at you and whispering

That's when you notice that the cute guy who's been watching you has a black eye, and it doesn't take too long to find out that he got in a fight with a guy who made an inappropriate comment about you

I know I said this in another set of headcanons for him, but like,,, ✨guardian angel✨, you know?

You seek him out later to thank him, and also to ask why he did it, because you barely know him

You're honored that one of your fellow soldiers would stick up for you like that (and flattered that someone you've lowkey been crushing on was so willing to fight a stranger on your behalf), and then suddenly you realize that omg, do I like him??

He's a little worried that you'll be upset that he fought someone for you when you barely know each other, but you assure him that you appreciate it, and "Maybe this is how we get to know each other. Next time we have passes, can I take you out for a drink to repay you?"

And he's so excited that he'd gladly take ten more black eyes if it means getting to spend time with you

#sorry @ the person behind me in the library who can totally see me writing fanfic right now; hope you're enjoying the show! #I like these pining hcs so much y'all #because like #they're tough guys #but here? we get to see the soft! content and I live for that #bull randleman #bull randleman x reader #chuck grant #chuck grant x reader #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers headcanon #band of brothers fanfic #my writing #pining hcs

[cody-helix02]

Another day another prompt 😌 Tbh I already finished it a few days ago but I edited a bit lol ✌️ ( If ya see grammar or spelling mistakes. No you didnt. 😒🤣)

Tagging the Gremlins: @latibvles @almost-a-class-act @bobparkhurst @mash-the-buttons @multifandomlover01

For my extra special bean: @georgelust

Carrying them to the room after they fell asleep on the floor.

Yawning and stretching his arms over his head, Luz trudged slowley into the Hotel that they used as their billet for the time being. The war was over and the festivities for VE-day were still on going outside but he decided to head to bed for a much needed rest.

Luz was about to turn the corner when he heard a soft voice in the next hallway. Stopping for a second he leaned forward and looked around the corner to see who it was.

A few meters away on the ground, against the wall, sat Andrew. He seemed to be somewhat unconscious, which was made even clearer by Grants fruitless tryes to get him on his feet. Luz thought about going over and helping Grant out but he held back when the other Sergeant crouched in front of the smaller philly boy.

Grant took off his own uniform jacket, carefully wrapping it around Andrews shoulders. Then put an arm under his legs and one supporting his back to lift him up. The smaller one made a little disgruntled noise, but only curled himself closer against Grants chest. Hiding his face in the others neck.

With a smal chuckle and looking at Andrew with a soft gaze for a second, Grant made his way into the opposite direction of Luz's location. The former radioman grinned slightly before yawning and finally heading to his own room.

#band of brothers #easy company #band of brothers fanfic #my oc annie #chuck grant #george luz #writing prompts

[1waveshortofashipwreck]

Hello! For the love letter- my name is Claire, I’m a female and my pronouns are she/her. Could you possibly write for Grant??

Thanks again!! 🩵

CLAIRE MY LOVE!! I'm so so sorry this took forever 🫠 Here it is tho! One (1) love letter from the adorable Chuck Grant! I may or may not have stolen a couple details you mentioned from your ship a while back 😂 Hope you like it 🥰❤️

31 January, 1945

My adorable Claire!

How are you? How has your day been? I miss you more than words could possibly say. Thinking about you was the only thing that got me through the cold nights in Bastogne - I thought about those nights when we would sit in front of our fireplace and share a hot chocolate. I will never forget the night we opened your letter of acceptance to medical school, we were so excited we spilled the hot chocolate all over the letter!

We just moved from Bastogne to a place called Haguenau. It’s not exactly the Ritz, but it beats sleeping in a foxhole in the snow every night. We’ve been hearing rumors that the war is starting to wind down - I’m so afraid of having false hope, but I can’t stop myself from being excited to come home to the love of my life. I can’t wait to hold you in my arms again, to laugh at the ridiculous jokes that only we understand, to have lazy mornings and adventurous days with you. 

I think what I miss the most is getting to have dinner with you at the end of the day. I always knew, no matter how awful of a day I had, that I was coming home to you - Claire, you are my home. I love getting to just sit with you and hear about your day - how your job went, what the traffic was like on the way home, who you ran into at the post office, my darling I could listen to you talk for hours.

They’re sending some of us out on a patrol tonight to get some German prisoners - I don’t know why, but I have a bad feeling in my gut about it. The war is almost over, do we really need to risk our lives again over something as menial as gathering up a couple of Germans to interrogate? I don’t understand it at all, and I’m worried it’s not going to end well.

I think that is all of the updates I have for you, my love. How is medical school going? Are your professors treating you alright? I’m still so proud of you - I know you worked your ass of to get where you are today. I’m pretty sure the boys here are tired of hearing me talk about you.

I will write to you again as soon as I can, Claire. I love you more than you can imagine. Please be sure to take care of yourself, and don’t have too much fun while I’m gone!

Your’s always,

Chuck

#band of brothers #easy company #hbo war #hbo #chuck grant #band of brothers fanfic #easy company x reader #band of brothers x reader #chuck grant x reader #love letter #my writing #emily shut up #request #coco-bean-1218

[marycorleone]

50 posts!

Oh my 🔥

#50 posts #tumblr milestone #band of brothers #joe liebgott #fiction #imagine your otp #joseph liebgott #bull randleman #chuck grant #bill guarnere #floyd talbert #x yn #kaya scodelario #fanfic #writers on tumblr

[malarkgirlypop]

MEDIC Part 18 (Donald Malarkey x Fem!OC)

Ah yes my favourite gif of all time finally has come into play, how exciting! We're in France Baby! It's a change of pace and scenery how fun! I feel we are nearing the end and then remember how much I have actually written and then I'm like oh nope we still got a bit bahaha. I'm doing a short chapter cause I was writing it and it was like a good 4k words so I thought it best to just split it into two, I know some people prefer shorter chapters.

Based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, no hate to anyone involved.

Tag list: @next-autopsy, @panzershrike-pretz, @xxluckystrike, @bucky32557038ww2 (if you want to be added let me know🥰)

The cold wind whipped at my face making me hunch further down into my jacket. We had finally arrived in Haguenau after the long journey, everyone seemed to be restless. Keen to be indoors and out of the biting elements. Don stood in the back of the truck, his mood appearing low. I wanted to ask him what seemed to be troubling him but there was no privacy on the back of the vehicle. His smiles weren’t as bright, not quite reaching his eyes. I chewed my lip nervously watching the man. They had made him Staff Sergeant, but he didn’t seem pleased. 

“Hey guys.” A cheery voice called from behind me. I turned to look at the man who spoke. I didn’t recognise him. But he surely hadn’t been with us before. He looked healthy, clean, and happy. Compared to the sorry sacks who rode on the back of the truck, myself included. Was he a replacement?

“Some Lieutenant told me to report to 2nd.” The man informed us. I glanced across the truck at Lieb who shrugged. I rolled my eyes, why I looked to him for information I have no idea, he’s no help. I leant back resting on the seat between Grant and Jackson.  

“Your name’s Jackson right?” The soldier asked the young man beside me. God he was so young, he assured me he was 19 but I don’t believe him, he looks like a kid.    

“That’s right.” Jackson replied. 

“Who’s leading the platoon?” He asked, Jackson’s eyes flicked to Don who was still standing. 

“Sergeant Malarkey is.” He tells the soldier. 

“What no officers?” I tilt my head while looking at the man while he talks, his face seems so familiar. 

“I guess you didn’t hear.” Lieb said. 

“No, what's that?” He turned his attention onto Joe. 

“They’re making Malarkey a Lieutenant. He’s on the fast track now.” He says while fiddling with his lighter. A tell that he was lying, the little shit. No one said anything about his blatant lie.  

“Really? That’s great.” It’s bugging me, I swear I know this dude. He probably thinks I’m a weirdo as he glances at me staring at him. 

“Jackson, help me up will you?” He swings his bag onto the back of the truck, pulling himself up to sit next to Jackson. I move from my spot, not having enough room on the bench anymore without me basically sitting in Grant’s lap. I sit in between Babe and Lieb. Continuing to stare at the private. This is going to drive me insane, who is this guy?

 The truck jolts forward, almost sending him flying out again. I hide my laughter behind my hand. 

“So, uh, you come from the hospital?” Jackson asks him.

“Must’ve liked that hospital, cause’ we left Holland four months ago.” I nudge Lieb, silently scolding him for being mean.  

“Who is this guy?” I whispered to Babe.

“Webster, I think.” My mouth flew open, that’s where I knew him from, I think I met him on my first night. Babe reaches out, shutting my mouth, “Close your mouth, you’ll catch flies.”

“Well I wasn’t there the whole time. There was rehabilitation, then the replacement depot.” Webster explained. 

“Well, I’m sure you tried to bust out and help us in Bastogne, Web.” Lieb was pissed off. Lieb would’ve come back and helped, like a lot of the other men did. But they can’t all be like them. Webster got off the line and had a holiday, can’t blame the man for not wanting to come back in a hurry. This was war for god sake, no one wishes to be here. Well I hope not. I mean I do but I have my reasons ok!

“I don’t know how I would’ve done that.” Webster defended himself. I looked at Babe, he seemed to notice the tension, I made a face showing my discomfort. Hiding my look behind my hand. He gave me the same look back. I chuckled and bumped him with my shoulder trying to ease the cringe we both felt in our chests. Like going over to a friends house and having to sit there and watch them be told off. So awkward. 

“That’s funny cause Popeye found a way. So did Alley, right, back in Holland? And Guarnere and –” Lieb turned to Babe and I, we both nodded silently, not wanting to be dragged into the passive aggressive conversation. Lieb was the king of passive aggressiveness, let me tell you. Don’t piss off that guy. He will subtly degrade you and wear you down.   

“Yeah, where is Guarnere? He still your platoon Sergeant?“ Webster asked. I could feel both Lieb and Babe stiffen next to me. I stilled too. It was hard being dragged back to that place of memories. So we didn’t mention it, and kept moving forward. So for Web to come in asking where people were, hit a nerve. It was an unspoken rule not to really speak of those who we had lost. It just made it so much harder, we didn’t have time to process or grieve really. It was for later, after this was all done and we were safe then we could process everything that had happened. 

“No. He got hit.” Jackson said with a huff. Webster was not picking up on the social cues being hurled at him. How did he not see or feel the tension as soon as he mentioned Bill’s name, it was so thick you could cut it with a knife. 

The truck stopped moving as we stood. Lieb held out his hand for me to grab to help me jump down. I took his hand, hopping down and landing beside him, “Thank you.” I said giving him a smile, but I could tell Webster had put him in a sour mood. I waited for Babe to hop down as well. He stood up in the truck, “Yeah, Bill got hit. Blew his whole leg off.” Babe said to Webster. Great now he’s made both of them mad. Babe jumped down, walking in stride with me. We walked alongside the trucks that had parked.

“Spread out. Hold along this line till I figure out where we’re going.” Don said, striding forward from behind us. Making his way over to where Captain Speirs was talking to another officer. I hung back as the men kept walking. Waiting by the trucks for instructions, no good me holding the line with no weapon. 

“Sarge.” Web called from behind me, I turned to look at the man as he walked. He brushed past me, his rifle still in its bag clocking me right in the head. I stumbled backwards, tripping over rubble on the floor. I landed on the ground with a hard thud. Ow! Fucking dick! I rubbed my head, grimacing in pain. He didn’t even realise he had done it, continuing to walk towards Malarkey. I got to my feet, brushing the dirt from my hands. I glared at the man, great now he’s pissed me off too. The sounds of shells being fired whistled through the air. I ducked my head down barely trying to cover myself. I watched with pure shock as Webster dove onto the ground face planting into the snow. I covered my mouth trying to muffle the laughter escaping my lips. Malarkey turned around to see his soldier lying in the snow. I giggled furiously behind the men. 

“What’s the matter there, Webster? Nervous in the service?” Don asked the man. I almost fell to the floor again in a fit of hysterics, wiping the tears from my eyes. The scene of Webster flying through the air replaying in my head. Well I’m not mad at him anymore. 

Don finished talking to Webster, sending him off to speak with Captain Speirs. “Em, you’re with me, let’s go.” Don called to me as he passed. I hurried after him, trailing behind a little so that he could speak to others if he needed. 

I split from the group needing to find Lip, I saw him slink away into one of the houses they were setting up CP in. I hurried in watching Lip take a seat on one of the couches. 

“Lip, how are you feeling?” I asked the man coming to kneel beside the couch he rested on. 

“Great.” He smiled. I placed my hand on his forehead, he was running a fever. His skin was clammy and hot. His complexion was pallor in colour, and even from here I could hear the evident wheeze in his chest. He coughed into a handkerchief, producing a greenish yellow phlegm. George laid a blanket over the man as I assessed him. I pulled the stethoscope from my bag, Lip leaned forward knowing the drill. I untucked his top from the back, sliding my hand under his shirt to press the diaphragm of the stethoscope to his back. 

He winced, “Sorry cold hands.” I apologised from my freezing fingers that touched his warm skin. 

“Deep breath in.” He inhaled for me as I listened in one spot. “And out.” He exhaled. I could hear the rattle in his chest clearly, as he exhaled. I moved the diaphragm around listening to different parts of the lungs, from the top of the lung field to the bottom. I removed my hand from under his shirt, tucking it back in. 

“How does it sound?” He asked, reading over a paper George had handed him. 

“Well Lip it sounds better than last time I checked, but there is still fluid present in the lungs. So you need to rest. If you keep going you’re going to crash. They have this handled, you need to go lie down. There are beds in the back, go sleep. And remember at least three pillows, you need your head elevated.” I tried to explain to him, but even when he first got sick he refused to rest, saying there was too much work to do. I could only drag a horse to water.  

“George, have you had any word about if they will send us some antibiotics?” I asked Luz as he moved around the room organising things. 

“No, sorry Em.” I sighed, frustrated, he needed that medication. 

“Hey, look who it is. Nice digs, huh, Lip?” I tucked the blanket into Lip’s side knowing he would refuse to move and go to bed. I looked over to Webster who stood in the passageway. 

“Sergeant Lipton? Feeling alright?” Webster asked the man.

“He’s got pneumonia.” George informed the curious soldier. I still knelt beside him, concern apparent on my features. He gave me his sorry-I-will-go-rest-soon-face. 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Webster shared his apologies. 

“What are you sorry about? He’s alive. Got a couch, a goddamn blanket, snug as a bug.” George said cigarette hanging from his mouth. I stood from my position, placing my stethoscope back into my bag. 

“Sergeant Malarkey said to check with the CO if I should be in 2nd platoon.” Webster said. 

“Have a seat, Webster. We’ll get you situated.” Lipton ushered the man to sit. He took a place at the old piano. 

“How long have you been sick?” Webster inquired. 

“Long enough.” I patted the man on his shoulder. Poor guy had been ill for a while. He had a cold at first, which I said in the first place for him to rest and let it pass. But being the caring man that he is couldn’t leave his soldiers. So he worked still, causing the cold to become worse and then it deteriorated into pneumonia. Still even with that he refused to lie still and do nothing. Which I encouraged him to do so many times, I had given up. 

“And when did nurses start helping on the frontlines?” He turned and asked me. 

“Ah, I’m a medic.” I answered. 

“Oh, that’s right! I recognise you now.” He smiled, “Yeah, wow, I’m surprised you’re still alive.” We all stilled. I sent him a disbelieving look, surely he didn’t just say that to me.

“Um… thanks?” I wasn’t sure what to say. 

“Of course Em is still alive, she’s tough as nails. Huh Em?” George came and stood beside me wrapping an arm around me as he gave me a squeeze. I smiled at Luz, nodding my head. 

“Sure am.” I turned to look at Webster, who assessed the interaction. He seemed to be puzzled at the closeness we shared. Too bad for him, it was a common sentiment I shared with all the Easy men. 

Footsteps sounded from the doorway. A young man appeared in the room. “Is this the CP for Easy company?” He asked, looking lost. 

“Yes, sir.” Lip said, moving to sit up on the couch. Everyone else in the room stood as well. I inspected the man closer, recognising the dash on his helmet showing he was a ranking officer. 

“As you were.” He told the men who stood at his arrival. “Lieutenant Jones looking for Captain Speirs.” 

“He’s on his way, sir. Why don’t you sit down.” Lip told the Lieutenant. I moved from my position standing next to Lip’s couch. I gave Luz a small wave heading for the door. Captain Speirs strolled in right as I was about to leave. He gave me a warm smile as we passed. 

“Listen, for Christ’s sake, will you go back in the back and sack out? There’s some beds back there with fresh sheets.” I heard Ron tell Lip. 

“I told him that sir, he wouldn’t listen.” I called over my shoulder. 

“Listen to Emily, she's the medic.” I laughed as Ron scolded him. I left the CP heading to where 2nd platoon had been placed. I passed Winters and Nix on my way out as well. 

“Emily! You’re looking well.” Nixon called to me, I smiled brightly at the man as I hadn’t seen him in a while. He moved forward arms wide, I stepped into his tight hug. I pulled away from Nix. Winters smiled at me, giving me a loving squeeze on the arm, as I grinned at him.  

“It’s good to see you both.” I told them happily. The exchange was brief before they set off again in the direction I had just come from. 

#band of brothers fanfic #donald malarkey #band of brothers #hbo war #fanfic #joe toye #bill guarnere #dick winters #david webster #joe liebgott #babe hefferon #Chuck Grant #Web doesn't know how to read a room #and also doesn't know how to speak to women #wow im surprised you're still alive #what a charmer

[coco-bean-1218]

Well-Behaved Women Never Make History

Prologue: Part Three: "Brains, Bravery, and now... Wings."

Chapter Soundtrack

Summary: Claire breaks some important news to her family.

A/N: Hi, everyone! Welcome to Prologue: Part Three: of Well-Behaved Women Never Make History! This is the final prologue part before the actual story takes place! I'm very excited about this one, and I hope you are too! As always, feel free to like, comment, and reblog.

Warnings: Swearing, Claire getting confrontational

Taglist: @whollyjoly @footprintsinthesxnd @panzershrike-pretz @xxluckystrike

Monday, January 5, 1942

Downtown district of Detroit, MI, USA

---

The January chill nipped at Claire’s cheeks as she hesitated on the snow-dusted sidewalk outside the recruitment building in Downtown Detroit. A mosaic of colorful signs emblazoned with military insignias adorned the facade, each vying for the attention of potential recruits. She adjusted her glasses and tucked a loose strand of brown hair behind her ear while absorbing the gravity of her surroundings.

"Army," "Navy," "Marines" – the words seemed to leap out from the posters, resonant with the call of duty and patriotism. Men, young and vibrant, streamed past her, their conversations a cacophony of hope and bravado. She drew in a deep breath, trying to still the fluttering in her chest.

With one last glance at the sky, now an expanse of solemn gray, she pushed open the door and stepped into the maw of the recruitment station.

Inside, the air buzzed with the energy of hundreds of young men, their voices merging into a symphony of determination. They clustered around tables where uniformed officers sat, clipboards at the ready. The clatter of typewriters punctuated the murmur of conversation, each keystroke a testament to the momentous decisions being made.

"Hey, watch it!" a recruit barked as Claire narrowly avoided bumping into him amidst the throng.

"Hey, I'm walking here!" she snapped back, her eyes darting around the vast room, "Fucking dumbass." Her heart hammered against her ribs; this was more overwhelming than any college exam hall.

Claire moved slowly through the space, her senses alert to every detail. She watched fingers grip pens with purpose, heard the scratch of signatures committing lives to service. Each step brought her deeper into the belly of the beast, the air thick with the scent of ink and anticipation.

She took another step, drawing closer to the heart of the station, to the precipice of her own journey. And somewhere amidst the clamor and the fervor, Claire began to find her footing, charting a course through the crowd toward the destiny of her choosing.

Claire's eyes swept over the sea of uniforms, her gaze landing on a poster that stood out from the rest, its bold letters calling to those brave enough to leap from the skies. "Join the Airborne," it beckoned, the image of a soldier descending from the heavens both terrifying and exhilarating.

"An additional fifty dollars in pay," she murmured to herself, fingertips grazing the edge of the poster. Her mind leapt to textbooks and lab fees; this could be the answer she'd been searching for—a way to fund her dream of medical school. The sum was significant, a beacon of hope amidst the turmoil of war.

With a determined step, Claire navigated through the throngs of eager recruits, each stride carrying her closer to the possibility of a future shaped by her own hands. As she sought the Army's station, a table draped in blue caught her eye, the acronym 'WACs' emblazoned across the banner.

"Women's Army Corps..." she read aloud, thumbing through a pamphlet that lay amongst a neat pile. The words within spoke of service and support, of roles unimagined by women just a generation prior. For a moment, her heart wavered, the path of a WAC presenting its own allure. 

"Could I really do this?" The thought hung heavy as she slipped the pamphlet into her pocket, a tangible reminder of choices yet to be made.

Her pursuit resumed, weaving between desks and dodging elbows until she found herself standing before a sign marked 'Army Enlistment.' She exhaled sharply, the weight of decision anchoring her to the spot, the pamphlet's presence in her coat a secret whisper of potential futures.

Each step was a silent conversation with herself, every heartbeat a question of courage, and with the pamphlet tucked close, Claire advanced toward her chosen battleground.

Claire's steps echoed against the marble floor, a cadence of resolve amidst the clamor. She halted at a long table adorned with crisp, official-looking documents and flags representing various military branches. Her gaze scanned the area, seeking the sign-up for the Airborne, when she was suddenly anchored by a familiar face.

"Peyton?" Claire's voice lifted in surprise, her eyes widened as they settled on her best friend standing behind the table.

"Claire!" Peyton squealed. The warmth in her brown eyes mirrored the joy dancing across her features. "What are you doing here?"

Claire leaned forward, palms pressing against the cool surface of the table. "I could ask you the same," she teased, but her laughter held an undercurrent of nerves. 

"Got myself a job," Peyton replied with a proud lift of her chin, "Helping Uncle Sam find his soldiers. And you? Don't tell me you came to wave the boys goodbye." The quirk of Peyton's eyebrow signaled she expected a more profound truth.

"I'm here to... I want to sign up for the Airborne," Claire said, her voice lower than she intended. She brushed a stray lock of brown hair behind her ear.

"Airborne?" Peyton's eyebrows shot up, a playful smirk teasing her lips. "My, aren't we the brave one?"

"Someone has to be," Claire retorted, though her heart thumped erratically at the reality of her words. Inside her coat, the WAC pamphlet felt like a secret confession of her hesitance.

Peyton reached beneath the table, sifting through papers with a purposeful intensity. "Well, if it's the sky you're aiming for, let me help you take flight." With a furtive glance around, she leaned closer, conspiratorially, "I'll snag you a form."

"Be careful," Claire warned softly as Peyton reached across the table, her fingers dancing swiftly over the stacked papers before procuring one of the coveted Airborne sign-up sheets.

"Come on," Peyton whispered, tucking the sheet under her arm. Together, they navigated through the swell of bodies, finding sanctuary in a quiet corner draped in shadows.

"Feels like plotting a secret mission," Claire joked, but her hands trembled slightly as she accepted the pen from Peyton. The weight of her decision pressed down upon her, each tick of the wall clock punctuating the urgency of the moment.

"Imagine, us girls changing the world," Peyton said, her voice a soft blend of wonder and conviction, "Seems like only yesterday we were both little girls wishing our fairy tale dreams."

"Changing our own worlds, at least," Claire replied, her smile tinged with the gravity of their unspoken dreams. She looked down at the form, each line a step closer to a future where fear mingled with hope, and the prospect of 50 extra dollars meant more than just money; it represented freedom, education, and a chance to make a difference.

"Are you ready for this?" Peyton asked, concern lacing her question.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Claire responded, her hand tightening around the pen. But in the sanctuary of her mind, she whispered a prayer for courage, for strength, and for the wisdom to choose the right path.

"Here, let's start with the easy stuff," Peyton said, pointing to the top of the form. "Name, date of birth, address..."

"Right." Claire filled in the blanks, her handwriting a neat script that belied the churn of her stomach. "I never pictured my twenties would look like this."

"Nobody did," Peyton agreed, leaning in to read over Claire's shoulder. "But we play the hand we're dealt. You've got a good one, Claire. Brains, bravery, and now... wings."

"Potentially," Claire mused, her gaze flitting to Peyton's own untouched sign-up sheet for the WACs. "It looks like we're both seeking some altitude."

"Seems so." Peyton's smile was a brief flash, her attention returning to Claire's form. "Next, they'll need your medical history. Any illnesses, surgeries..."

"Just wisdom teeth," Claire chuckled, checking the corresponding box. Her thoughts drifted again to the extra fifty dollars the poster promised, an amount that could put a dent in her medical school expenses—if the war didn't claim too much first.

"Emergency contact?" Peyton's voice cut through her reverie.

"Mom and Dad," Claire responded automatically, scribbling down her parents' details. Her heart clenched at the thought of their reaction; she hadn't even broached the subject with them yet.

"Alright, almost done," Peyton encouraged. "Just need your signature and—"

"Hope," Claire finished quietly, the pen hovering above the paper. She drew in a deep breath and signed her name with a flourish that felt more defiant than anything she'd ever done.

"Done." Claire set the pen down, her pulse racing as the realization of her commitment took hold.

"Then that's it," Peyton affirmed. "You're on your way, Claire."

"Thanks to you," Claire said, her gratitude genuine. She folded the form, the creases crisp under her fingers. "Now, let's get this turned in before I lose my nerve."

"Lead the way, soldier," Peyton said with a grin, and together, they stepped back into the fray, their bond a thread of certainty in an uncertain world.

Claire clutched the folded form in her hand as she glanced sideways at Peyton, who was busy scanning the room with an intensity that matched the gravity of their surroundings.

"Are you going to join the fight too?" Claire asked, her voice barely above a whisper, betraying a vulnerability she kept well-guarded.

Peyton turned toward her, her eyes holding a glint of resolve that seemed older than her eighteen years. "I’m considering the WACs," she admitted. "As a war journalist. Someone has to tell our stories, right?"

"Right." Claire nodded, pride swelling within her chest at the thought of her friend capturing the essence of these tumultuous times. "You'll be great at it."

"Thanks," Peyton said, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. "Now, let's get you officially signed up."

They approached the bustling table discreetly; Peyton’s movements were deft and quiet as she slid Claire's form amidst a stack of others. The act was so smooth it was as if the paper had sprouted wings and settled itself among its brethren. No one noticed, no heads turned—they were just two young women in a sea of anxious faces, all united by a common cause.

"Call me later?" Claire's heart thumped loudly, her mouth dry.

"Of course." Peyton's smile was a lifeline. "And Claire? Be safe."

"Always am," Claire replied with a wink she didn't quite feel. Then, with a quick, tight hug that carried the weight of unspoken fears and shared dreams, they parted.

Claire stepped outside into the brisk January air, pulling her coat tighter against the winter chill. She could still feel the echo of Peyton’s embrace as she hailed a cab. When the old yellow car pulled to the curb, she saw the driver through the rolled-down window, his cap slightly askew.

"Where to, miss?" he asked gruffly, the lines on his face deepened from years of squinting into the distance.

Claire told her address, her voice steady even as her hands trembled.

As the taxi lurched forward, Claire leaned back against the worn upholstery. The city passed by in a blur of gray and white, but all she could see was the future unfurling before her, uncertain yet fraught with possibility. She gripped the strap of her handbag, the texture suddenly grounding her racing thoughts. What would home look like when she returned? Would the familiar streets whisper tales of her courage or sing laments for her absence?

"Almost there," the driver announced, snapping Claire back to the present.

"Thank you," she murmured, her mind already drifting to the announcement she would soon make. The door to her life as she knew it was closing, and with every turn of the wheels, she felt a step closer to the woman she was destined to become.

The rhythmic clacking of the typewriter keys filled the kitchen, a syncopated counterpoint to the soft scratching of pen on paper. Claire stood in the doorway, her silhouette hesitating against the afternoon light that filtered through the lace curtains. She watched as her mother's fingers danced over the black and white keys, her concentration never wavering even as she reached for her coffee cup with her free hand. Her father, meanwhile, was hunched over a notebook, his furrowed brow casting shadows over the figures he diligently noted down.

"Mom, Dad," Claire's voice trembled slightly, betraying the nerves she fought so hard to conceal.

Her mother stopped typing mid-word, the carriage hanging in limbo. She looked up, "Claire, honey, you're back early. Is everything alright?" 

"Hey, kiddo." Her dad glanced up, a flicker of concern crossing his weathered face before he set his pen aside. "You look like you've got something on your mind."

In the brief pause that followed, Claire could hear her own heartbeat, a frantic drumline marching toward an inevitable revelation. She took a deep breath, the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the faint trace of a candle, grounding her resolve.

"I ran into Peyton downtown," she began, the words spilling out more easily than she anticipated. The mention of her best friend always had a way of easing tension in the room. She moved closer, coming to rest against the edge of the kitchen table, her hands gripping the polished wood.

"Is that right?" her mom asked, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "And what's Miss Peyton up to these days?"

"She's working at the recruitment station," Claire said, watching as her parents exchanged a quick, unreadable glance. "Actually, I..." she paused, gathering the shards of courage that felt scattered within her chest.

"Actually, what, Claire?" her dad prompted, leaning back in his chair, his eyes kind and attentive.

Claire's glasses slipped slightly down her nose as she met their gazes, the world around her momentarily out of focus. She pushed them up with a resolute finger.

"I have an announcement to make," she stated, the words solidifying into reality the moment they passed her lips. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a caged bird yearning for the freedom of the skies, "I've decided to enlist. I joined the Airborne to be a combat medic."

Her father raised his eyebrows, "The Airborne?"

"You do know what that means, right?" her mother questioned in disbelief.

"Yes, I do," Claire said sternly, "And I also know that there's an additional 50 dollars in pay. That could go towards college and med school."

"Honey," her mother sighed, "Med school is expensive. That could cover a textbook, maybe two."

"Yes, I know," Claire kept her ground, "And you guys always say I need to be more mature and independent. Well, here's my chance, all while gaining medical experience. Imagine how that will look on med school applications."

Her mother crossed her arms, "Now, Claire, when we said more independent and more mature, we didn't mean jump out of a plane into a war zone."

"But, you guys have also told me to take risks, to stand up for myself and what I believe in, to not let people walk all over me. What is it that you always say, Mom? A well-behaved woman never makes history. That's what I'd be doing - making history!" 

Her father chuckled, "Man, when this one tries to make her case, she really makes it."

"And besides, I only applied. It doesn't mean they'll take me," Claire shrugged.

"How does it feel fighting with yourself," her father said to her mother, laughing.

Mrs. O'Connor glared at her husband, "Oh, hush."

Claire laughed at the teasing between her parents. They had said many times she was her mother's daughter.

"Can you imagine? She'll probably argue with her CO," her father said, shaking his head.

"Of course," Claire stated boldly, "You know me."

"Or argue with the enemy itself and they'd back down," her mother retorted.

Claire laughed, "That's the plan."

Her mother then leaned forward, her voice now gentle yet steady. "Claire, we've always encouraged you to follow your dreams, to forge your own path. And if this is what you truly want, then we support you wholeheartedly."

"You know we'll always have your back," her father chimed in.

The creak of the stairs announced Emma's arrival before she appeared, her eyes questioning as she took in the sight of their huddled assembly. She leaned against the doorway, her silhouette softened by the hall light spilling into the living room.

"Everything okay?" Emma asked, her gaze flicking between her parents' drawn faces and Claire's determined stance. 

"Yeah, I joined the Airborne to be a combat medic," Claire said nonchalantly.

Her sister stopped in her tracks, "Huh. Well, that's something you don't hear every day. Good for you." Emma smiled and patted Claire's shoulder. "If anyone can do it, it's you." She then shifted her gaze to their parents, who exchanged a glance and nodded in approval.

"Besides," Claire added with a mischievous grin, "Who knows? I might catch the eye of a handsome paratrooper who's just dying to break through these walls." She shot a knowing look at her mother, who laughed. 

Unbeknownst to Claire, a couple of thousand miles away, that young, handsome paratrooper was also breaking the news to his parents and siblings about his brave decision to join the Airborne.

#band of brothers #band of brothers oc #my first oc story #my ocs #well behaved women never make history #wbwnmh #easy company #hbo war #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers x ofc #chuck grant x ofc #chuck grant #eugene roe #eugene roe x ofc #original female character #ofc

[noneedtoamputate]

Every Beautiful Thing - Chapter Nine

Rating: Teen

Characters: Chuck Grant, Original Female Character(s), Joe Liebgott, Original Male Character(s)

Tags: Postwar, Slow Burn, Non Canon Realtionships, San Francisco

Summary: A girl walks into a tobacco shop.

November 1951

Ellen tried to wait patiently outside the diner for Chuck but failed miserably, tapping her foot on the sidewalk and flicking the ash from her cigarette, giving her something to do with her hand. When she finally saw him turn the corner, she quickly walked toward him.

“Hey,” he said with a smile when he made her out. “Fancy meeting you here.” He carried a newspaper and two magazines under his arm, and he gave her a kiss on her cheek.

“I have something I need to show you,” she said, leading him around the corner from the diner.

“What?” he asked.

“This.”

Read the rest and comment on AO3.

#band of brothers #band of brothers fic #fanfic #chuck grant #ellen thompson #every beautiful thing

[fuyupeach]

Unintentional (Not Really)

Miguel O’Hara x Gender Neutral! Reader

When on a mission between just Miguel and yourself, things go not as planned: not at all. Miguel thinks he might lose the reader, and finds he's more attached to you than he thought he was.

Leave it to this movie to break me out of my writing break, haha! Fastest I’ve ever written a one-shot this long. Enjoy! Also on AO3 here.

WC: 4,125k

----------------------------

Miguel was… well, to put it concisely, very interesting.

The very last thing you expected was to become a Spider, and even less than that did you expect there to be a hub of Spider people all in one place far in the future… to be honest, you were more surprised about there being a (very much needed) therapist Spider-Man and a kitchen-café-food-area-thing than you were to know that there were multiple dimensions in which each Spider dealt with. You were subtly appreciative of being in a universe where technology had had plenty of time to improve, granting you the luxury of fanfic. No one needed to know that was why you were able to understand the concept of Canon events so quickly.

You had just wrapped up a mission containing an anomaly, silently snacking on a banana you snagged on the way to Miguel’s office as he oh so slowly descended from his platform. He may be cute, but you were tempted to tamper with the damn thing if it meant you didn’t have to waste precious seconds waiting for him to speak. Who was he, Batman? He was also lucky the back view while you waited was so visually appealing… you made sure to keep your face calm, lips twitching to smile like a gremlin at your thoughts. 

You had been partnered with Mr. Spider-Punk himself. While you and Hobie got along swimmingly, you knew you would always be delegated debriefing duty when it came down to speaking to Miguel. It was both a perk and a massive disadvantage when you were tired and no longer felt the urge to speak for the rest of the day. Today was one of those days, though you will pat yourself on the back for not growing too impatient today as your thoughts traveled to your comfy bed, it’s soft sheets you recently washed, pillows fluffy and decadent—man, you were tired. You’d probably be hangry too if you hadn’t snagged that banana. It would have to do for now. You could swear you hear Hobie snicker behind you, as if he could read your thoughts. 

Glancing lazily over to the ever slow platform, you’re mildly surprised to see that Miguel is looking right back at you, eyes glowing a subtle red in the low lit room. You straighten out, swallowing your bite of banana before speaking.

“It almost feels like you came down quicker today,” you start, tone friendly. “Everything went as usual. Or, ideal, I suppose I should say.”

Miguel’s face was in its usual slight frown, the pout of his lips appealing to your eyes as always. “You closed a tear in a universe’s most frequently trafficked area and that’s the extent of your report?” 

You swallow another bite of banana, blinking. “I could go into detail on how I almost fell into said tear—in which I did thank Hobie for saving me—but I don’t think that’s very interesting or relevant. I’m quite tired, your majesty.”

Miguel sighs, fingers rising to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

“I’ll read your report later, then.”

“Mhm.” You hum, eating the last section of your banana, chucking it in a nearby trash can. Perks of spider-sense, you didn’t even need to look. 

“Dismissed, then?” Hobie chimes in, rising from the table he snuck over to lay on somehow during your conversation.

“..Dismissed.” Miguel sighs again, already turning back towards his holographic monitors. Hobie needed no more words as he nodded his head at you in goodbye before beelining for the doors. 

“I keep telling you you’re going to have even more wrinkles on that pretty face of yours if you keep sighing and frowning all the time,” you call out before he can start rising back up. Miguel stills for a brief second, a quarter of his face hidden from your view as you smile slightly. “And get some rest while you’re at it. I know I will.”

“The fate of the multiverse—“

“Yes, yes, I know, O’Hara. Goodnight.” You wave over your shoulder as you depart, hand raising to your mouth to cover the yawn you let out.

Your relationship with Miguel was probably no different from everybody else. You had your moments where you’d feel you’d become amiable at the very least, given how often you had to speak to the guy. He made you nervous at first, being a terribly attractive person, but he was intense. There was an air around him that seemed to push others away—subconsciously, instinctively? Maybe both. It didn’t help that he seemed to align with your (questionable?) type of men. It was also hard to continue to be nervous when he had a baby crawling all over him whenever Peter B. swung by, and even less so when his serious moments were broken by his AI, Lyla. Miguel was surprisingly… cute. You could imagine the multitude of others that know him looking at you as if you had grown two heads and four arms. What’s not to like about fangs? Tall men? Very muscular, quiet, brooding, men? 

Hm. You were starting to see why they might look at you that way.

One thing you learned from your still short experience as a Spider, however, was the importance of time. You—well, thanks to Miguel, you kind of can—never know when the last time you will be able to speak or see someone is, and unfortunately one of the reasons why is death. It breaks your spirit just to reminisce on what could have been. 

As you became more comfortable around Miguel, you began to test the waters on what to say and how he’d react. Tomorrow is rarely ever guaranteed in your line of work, so if you had to push past a massive spring of nerves to flirt with your hot coworker you might never see again, then dammit that was what you were going to do. He wasn’t really one to react much outwardly to your small advances, but he wasn’t exactly protesting them completely either. One time when you were out for about a week due to your own universe’s conflicts, you could’ve sworn you felt the man staring at you longer than usual when you were silent upon your return. You were eating at the Spider-Cafeteria, and was surprised to see Miguel there. There was always a 30/50 chance you’d see him anywhere except his office, the odds rising to 50/50 on empanada days. There wasn’t really much to say, but as you got up to put your used dishes on the return rack, he spoke.

“No drink?”

Your eyes widen a bit as you turn back around to face him, pleasantly surprised. You smile. “Nah, but I guess I could grab some water. It’s not really something I think of when it comes to soup.” You chuckle for a few seconds.

“Here.” Almost like a magic trick, Miguel slides a small bottle of water towards you, silent as you blink back at him. Well, he is Spider-Man. You guess there could be other things to be more surprised by. 

“Oh. Thanks, Miguel.” Your smile widens a bit more as you take the bottle from him, your hand brushing against his (you totally did that on purpose). 

“I think he liiikess youuu.” 

The two of you jump at the sound of a new voice, eye contact breaking.

“Lyla.”

“I had to say something. This tension is drawing out a little too long for me–”

“LYLA–” Miguel swats at where she floats in between the two of you, large hands just a millimeter away from yourself. You briefly wonder how the size of said hands would compare to the size of your waist. Lyla appears in a different spot behind Miguel, smirking.

“Outta hereeee.” She winks at you before disappearing completely. You’re greeted with the delicious sight of Miguel’s shoulders and back sagging slightly, muscles contracting with his movement. You honestly found it pretty cute how despite how many times Lyla has no doubt teased this man to hell and back, he still reaches to grab her as if she has a physical form to do so. You keep your giggle to yourself, smile betraying your lack of laughter. You decide to give him a break today, turning back around to get rid of your dishes. 

“Thanks again for the water, Miguel.” You shake the bottle over your shoulder as you walk away, confidence and mirth fueling each step.

– – 

Well… damn. 

You’re actually pretty pissed that this rhino out of all the other ones you’ve seen and dealt with is giving you this much trouble. It was only yourself and Miguel on this mission, so it seemed pretty low difficulty. That difficulty was raised the moment he decided to plow through the city and onto one of its main bridges, surrounded by cars and–you guessed it–people. This Rhino was actually quite smart compared to the others. You heave a sigh as you swing around gathering another group of civilians to safety, narrowly avoiding a large chunk of building that flew your way as the Rhino surged forward elsewhere. That was Miguel’s problem until you completely cleared the area. Times like this made you appreciate that your universe wasn’t surrounded by skyscrapers like this one was. The more damage the Rhino did, the more nervous you subconsciously got. 

The fucker was pretty strong too. Every time either of your webs hit or tried to wrap around him, it’d almost immediately snap off, either because of the velocity of how fast he was running, or something he must’ve had added to his suit that would burn it off, leaving useless wisps in its wake. You both needed to find a solution, and fast. It would be hard to find a way to trap him in open terrain, and no point in really trapping him if he can just break through (so far) every damn thing. Your mind was scrambling to find solutions amidst the chaos, temples pulsing. You’d likely have to brute strength it out. You let out another sigh.

You were sure he didn’t need you to tell him, but it’d look like Miguel would need to get as close as he could in order to bite him, leaving the Rhino paralyzed and motionless for capture. Miguel was actually keeping up a great pace with him, it was the whole not killing innocent civilians thing that comes with being Spider-Man that was making things difficult; placed in a crowded city to boot. 

You’re grateful the next group you escort is the last, spider-sense not picking up anything else for now. You swing around two nearby twin towers, using the antennae sticking out from the top to catapult yourself to Miguel.

“It’s bite time!” You yell out, getting straight to the point as you swing to keep your momentum, right behind Miguel. “We’re gonna have to brute force our way out of this.”

“I know!” He responds, swinging in tandem. “I think we’re going to have to rely on all these now empty cars coming up. My signal.”

You look forward, the end of the bridge the only thing in sight. While the bridge wasn’t over a large body of water, you weren’t keen on falling off the side today if the plan falls through. The bridge transitions into a narrow tunnel, tight, but not impossible for the Rhino to fit through at all. You couldn’t see inside it, but there were a good amount of rocks outside it, connecting to a surrounding mountain.

You had worked with Miguel often enough that you didn’t need to verbally communicate when in battle, him turning to nod to you being all you needed before grabbing as many cars as you could and pulling them together with your webs to make obstacles for the Rhino in attempts to slow him down. You couldn’t help but laugh at the view you had from up above. This must be how scientists feel looking at their rodent subjects. 

You hit the ground for a second for more stability as you grab another car with both webs, using the leftover momentum to spin yourself and throw the car in the Rhino’s direction, a grin stretching across your features under your mask as it successfully hits. You flinch as it explodes. You forgot cars might do that. Hm. You were just glad it wasn’t you.

Miguel flies through the explosion smoke, using the distraction as a chance to get close as the Rhino staggers. He lands on his back, sinking his talons into his skin to make sure he wasn’t going anywhere. 

The Rhino yells out, trying to shake Miguel off to no avail. Miguel stays low, avoiding the Rhino’s horns from touching him as you see his mask fade away. You couldn’t help the excitement that flared up in you no matter how hard you tried at the sight of Miguel’s fangs. You always thought they were pretty cool, not that he needed to know that. 

Just as Miguel goes in to bite, your senses jump to alert, spotting the reason a second too late.

This Rhino also had a self-destruct in its suit. Great.

You don’t even get to yell out a warning before light is all you see, your body flying back hard into something also oh-so-unluckily for you, harder. Yeah, you weren’t a fan of the big city at all. 

You blearily feel around for your surroundings, crying out at the sudden sharp pain that emerges from your abdomen. That can’t be good. 

You keep blinking until your vision clears, immediately searching for Miguel. You spot him not too far from the Rhino, also on the floor, but relatively unharmed. You sigh in relief. The Rhino also looked unharmed for the most part, to your dismay. He was however, now left without a suit, which meant less obstacles for Miguel. You weren’t too far from them either, but you definitely weren’t close. They were stopped right in front of the entrance to the tunnel, still gathering their bearings. You could tell the Rhino would get up and keep moving soon.

You attempt to move again, but the pain is too intense. You finally glance down to assess the damages, a sharp intake of breath leaving you motionless. 

You had collided with a nearby abandoned car, and were very much inside of it via a damaged windshield. Shards of glass surrounded and were inside you, some minor, some probably very bad. You reach up cautiously to your face, feeling parts of your mask torn as well. You take a breath to steady yourself and try not to panic. You were going to catch that fucking rhino whether it was on your last breath or not. It was extremely personal now.

You manage to maneuver yourself until your front is sticking out of the windshield, trying not to aggravate the pieces of glass that you deemed too dangerous to take out. You spot a nearby car and spray out your web, dragging yourself out on your back. You’d have to ignore the stinging for now. You see Miguel starting to get up as well, and call out to him.

“You have to go NOW, O’Hara!” You cough, body running cold at the taste of iron in your mouth. “Quick!”

His head snaps over at the sound of your voice, body stilling as the words he had ready to say die on his tongue. It takes a blink from you for him to land in front of you, on his knees as he cradles your head. 

“What,” He attempts to compose himself, and you can’t help but let out a small puff of a chuckle at the sight. You may have wanted him to hold you at some point, but definitely not like this. “What did you–what were you–” He takes another breath. Your heart aches at the slight tremor in his voice, and the feel of his talons digging slightly into your skin that he doesn’t seem to have noticed has come out. 

“I.. definitely didn’t plan on flying into a windshield today.” You attempt to joke. You hated seeing him so upset. You had never seen him like this before, and it was starting to scare you. You must look pretty on the brink of death. Your breathing starts to pick up at the thought. 

You catch movement in the corner of your eye. Oh, man.

Your eyes flick back to Miguel. “You need to move.” His face remains tight, expression at a loss for what to do. “Just do what we usually do: kick ass.” Your attempt to smirk is interrupted by another blood filled cough. 

“Hey.” You try again, your hand finding his. You grip it as tight as you can. “I’ll be fine. Take me out on a date after this and we’ll call it even. I don’t know what’s gonna happen after this, so make it a good one, okay?” 

Before he has the chance to respond back you move your head out of his lap, rolling over sharply to aim at the rocks surrounding the tunnel entrance and pull, the pain in your abdomen nearly causing you to black out. You fall forward back onto the ground, stomach down. Your body seems to make the choice to knock out for you this time, the sound of crashing rocks and the feeling of blood rushing out of you is the last thing you remember.

– – 

Beep. Beep. Beep. 

Beep. Beep.

Bee–

Your eyes snap open, greeted with the sight of white walls and ceiling. 

You were alive, great! But damn did your body hurt. You felt the pinch of an IV in your arm as you shifted to get more comfortable, looking around. They must’ve had you on some pretty good pain killers if a small ache in your limbs was the extent of your pain thus far. Looking down, you see a hospital gown donned on your body, and bandages were wrapped practically everywhere. You hated that the first thought that came to your mind was wondering how you were going to pee. You don’t think there were any bandages down there…

You take a peek under your gown. 

All good.

Taking an even longer survey of the room, you realize you got lucky. No one else was there. Yet. You were aware of how close you were cutting it at the time. If Miguel’s face before you passed out was any indication, there was at least someone that was tasked with doing rounds on your location. You just hoped you hadn’t been out for too long.

Almost as if you had summoned said person, your senses alert you of someone’s presence a second before the door slowly opens, the door’s shadow growing larger before thinning out again. Lo and behold, it was an exhausted looking Miguel, his eyes unfocused. The dark circles under his eyes looked more pronounced, his lips pressed together in an even tighter line. Another wave of ache runs through your body at the sight. You couldn’t help but want to immediately alleviate the tension that lay thick in the air.

Miguel walks over to one of the sinks in the corner, setting something you couldn’t see down. He had closed the door softly, quietly, still unaware you were watching. You see his shoulders rise and fall as he lets out a sigh, turning on the faucet to splash his face with water. 

What time was it? A quick dart to the clock above the door alerts you to the fact that it’s 3am. 

There wasn’t much light throughout the room, but it wasn’t as if the two of you really needed it to see each other. You can almost see his face in clear detail as the man stills at the sight of your eyes, open, meeting his. 

You attempt to speak, but a sharp dry sensation attacks your throat, leaving you to cough instead.

You blink and Miguel is already at your bedside table, turning the low light lamp on as he pours you a cup of water from a nearby pitcher. His hands completely envelope the small glass, careful as he hands it to you. You take it gratefully, greedily enjoying the brief warmth his hands provide. 

“Thanks,” You finally say, not sure where to look. You truly didn’t know what the man was going to say. “I—“

“What you did was stupid.”

“Alright…” You muttered. Getting right to it, then. 

Miguel takes a seat in the only chair next to your bedside, eyes seemingly more red in the low light of the room. If they could burn through you you were sure they already would have. Tiny little ___ bits…

“Trust me when I tell you I didn’t go out with the goal to end up punted into a windshield.” You start, tone flat. “And excuse me for following your protocol: getting the mission done. I know it was stupid. I also knew you were going to keep me safe.” Your eyes flicker up to meet his.

“And if those were my last moments, yeah, it definitely would have sucked… That would’ve meant no date.” You truly didn’t know what else to say. What happened, happened. You can’t really say you regret it, either. Classic Spider antics.

Miguel runs a hand through his hair, brows furrowed in frustration as he mutters in Spanish under his breath. “What is this, some sort of game to you? This is serious.”

“And also part of the job.” You respond. You pause to really take him in now, curiosity driving forward in your mind. You were honestly surprised he was even here right now. And if the natural way he had maneuvered around the room was any indication, he must’ve been the one checking in on you. You didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but this was definitely nowhere near the usual lecture you’d receive for doing something he didn’t like. “What’s up with you?”

Looking at Miguel, you could almost see the turmoil going on inside his head. He opened his mouth before closing it again, lips pursed, jaw tight. If it weren’t for the tension in the air as you waited for him to speak, you would’ve said the man looked adorable, almost pouty. Now, though, it was almost like pulling nails out of concrete.

“When you… when I saw you on the ground like that.” Miguel’s tone was low, deep. It was his turn to look away now. “I felt… helpless. Weak. I haven’t felt that way since—well. I’m sure you can guess. I wasn’t expecting to feel that way. Wasn’t prepared to.” 

You were left speechless. 

“If I had gotten close faster, sunk my fangs into that fucker’s throat… I kept thinking, over and over again.” It was as if the floodgates had opened, Miguel getting any and everything he could on his mind out now. “I froze. And when you pulled away, fell to the ground, it felt like I was running with her in my arms again. Then she was gone. You were gone.”

“Miguel…”

“So, yeah.” His eyes meet yours once more, heavy. You wait for him to say more, but he doesn’t. If he was going to bear his heart to you in this way, you were going to too.

“I… never really was joking, you know.” You start playing with the blanket on your lap. “Pretty sure you already guessed that.” You chuckle softly.

“I can’t ever know what it’s like to lose something like that, but I want you to know I am here for you. I really just wanted to see how you felt about me; really didn’t have much to lose... I’m not really sure what to do now—“

Your words are cut off by the sensation of lips meeting yours, warm yet hot at the same time. Your hands grip the sides of Miguel’s hoodie, the IV in your arm preventing you from reaching higher. You feel Miguel’s hands hold your head in place as his lips continue to tangle desperately with yours. His fangs brush against your bottom lip and you shiver. 

When you part, you’re almost gasping for air, stomach tingling. Woah.

“If you’ll have me, I promise you I won’t let go.” You whisper, earnest.

Miguel looks surprised as you say this, like he wasn’t the one to initiate your heart to heart moment. His thumbs caress your cheekbones as he moves close once more. 

“Yo también,” He pecks your lips. “mi cariño.”

You rest your foreheads against each other, basking in the silence and comfort of the moment. A beat passes.

“How do you feel about bowling?”

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #across the spider-verse x reader #atsv miguel #atsv x reader #astv x black reader