#ronald speirs x oc

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

When You Know, You Know - Ronald Speirs x OC

Summary: A night of drinking with Valerie and the men leads Ron to realise that he's in much deeper than he thought

Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption/intoxication

Word count: 2.8k

Tags (Mostly using the taglist from the original fic): @50svibes @cagzzz107 @yentroucnagol @mads-weasley @mrsalwayswrite @dcyllom

A/N: This oneshot is building on from the characters/storyline established in my fic Just Come Home, which you can read in its entirety here. For those of you who have read it already, this is set roughly between chapters 5 and 6. Enjoy!

I can't even tell if this is good, I just needed to write for them again, I miss them so much

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"I win again!"

"God dammit!" George Luz cried, throwing down his hand of cards upon the table as Valerie laughed, taking a sip of her drink and revelling in his distress. Easy Company had been in Berchtesgaden for almost a week, and already boredom was beginning to set in, remedied seemingly only by late nights of drinking, card games, and music which they had begun to host almost daily in the huge abandoned hotel at the end of the main street.

The huge dining hall was bathed in a low, golden glow, a refuge from the darkness outside, and a gramophone crackled away in the corner, playing record after record of German music only a few among them could understand. A few portraits of prominent officials hung on the walls - survivors of the initial scourge which had seen the men clear out anything of value - their faces vandalised beyond recognition, drooping unevenly on their hooks. The large, circular tables that had once hosted wealthy guests to the town were now used for rowdy games of all kinds, stacks of empty glasses growing taller by the hour.

It had been almost two hours since Valerie had found herself dragged into one of these games. The men had clearly thought her light competition, but in those two hours, not one of them had won a single round. As the night wore on, and she continued to prevail, they grew only more determined to continue, to find a hole in her strategy to exploit, to finally beat her, for God's sake.

"I mean, Jesus, I just don't understand it," Tab sighed, frowning as he poured himself another glass of whiskey, staring wearily at his own hand in the realisation that he never could have won. "How can you win every goddamn time?"

Val chuckled, patting him on the arm in consolation. "I think it might be time to call it a night, eh gents?"

Luz shook his head. "No. Nuh-uh. We're not leaving until I win."

"You better be careful you don't run outta money first."

Tutting, he reached into his pocket for some more cash. "You better donate this shit to a charity or something when you get home, God knows you don't fucking need it," He lamented, muttering something to himself about big fucking houses and rich fucking parents.

With a grin, she accepted her winnings, sliding the money into the pocket of the coat she draped over the back of her chair. It was not her own coat - none of Valerie's clothes were her own, all of them pilfered from the abandoned closets of rich German wives, fleeing in a hurry with their rich Nazi husbands. But in the grand scheme of things, she hardly felt guilty. "Pleasure doing business with ya, Georgie." Val teased, her tongue drawn between her teeth.

A wide archway separated the main dining room from the smaller, private hall next door - a more intimate space for what had once been the wealthiest of hotel guests, but which now belonged to the officers of Easy Company, a huge central table proving the perfect place for late night games of poker.

Ron stared at the unimpressive cards in his hand, suppressing a frown, his infamous stony gaze playing in his favour once again. He would not win this game, but as long as Harry continued to play as badly as he had so far, he would not lose either. The sound of laughter in the next room pulled his gaze - and there she was. Valerie's face flushed red as she laughed, her cheeks creased as she tilted her head back, George Luz chuckling beside her at whatever he had said that was so damn funny. He wasn't sure he had ever made her laugh like that - but Ron knew he wasn't a funny guy, not like Luz at least. A few months ago, he might have felt the inkling of insecurity bubbling in his chest, but not now. Despite all the things that made him seem so intimidating to the other men, it seemed Ron was stuck with Valerie whether he liked it or not.

He did.

The sound of someone noisily clearing their throat pulled his attention away from the next room, and as Ron looked across the table, he noticed Nixon staring straight at him, brow raised. "Hm?" He asked, mirroring his expression.

"You gonna take your turn?" Nixon asked. "Or you gonna keep staring?"

Ron decided not to acknowledge this second question, instead swiftly taking his turn, placing his cards down forcefully, as if making a performance out of it. He wasn't staring. Just... watching.

In the corner of the dining hall, the record that had been playing stopped with a crackle, and Valerie stood up to change it, sliding her cards into her pocket to prevent Luz from cheating. The man scoffed at the mere suggestion, but they both knew he wasn't above taking a peek. As she neared the gramophone in the corner, Chuck Grant came passing the other way, their shoulders brushing against each other as he headed back to his own table. "Ooh, Val," He spoke, stepping up behind her as she flicked through the box of records. "You gotta try this."

Looking up, she accepted the glass in his hand, stifling a cough after her first sip as the liquid burned her throat. "Oh, fucking Christ, what is that?"

"No idea. Malark's recipe - good though, right?"

"Good, but I think it'll kill me," Val confessed, flicking through the box of records with her free hand.

"That's the spirit," He chuckled, patting her on the shoulder before turning to return to his table. "Drink up."

She grinned as he left, taking another sip of Malarkey's dangerous concoction before selecting a record. Their titles had all been in German, so Valerie had been forced to make a decision based off of the covers alone, and as such was slightly taken aback when upbeat folk music came blasting through the gramophone's horn, although the men around her seemed too engrossed in their games to even notice.

Returning to the table, interrupting Luz and Tab as they talked strategy, she put down her drink, taking a seat. "What's that?" George asked, nodding towards her glass.

"No idea. Malarkey's makin' 'em over there apparently."

He paused momentarily, slowly sliding his cards into his pocket as if Val actually needed to cheat to win. "...Don't mind if I do."

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Just over an hour had passed since the last time Ron had looked over at Valerie - Harry had lost their last game, predictably, and the officers had been darting between conversation and cards ever since, the energy slowly draining from the room as the night wore on and they began to find it harder to focus on the more technical games. The group had noticed the main dining hall growing steadily louder as the night progressed, but the disturbance had not been enough to warrant their attention until suddenly a smash rang out, accompanied by a series of whoops and laughter.

Craning his neck to see what was happening, Ron's gaze fell upon the portrait of Hitler that Valerie had taken a knife to on their first day in town, his face now stained with dark red wine, a few shards of glass embedded in the canvas. Still seated at her table, Val let out a hearty laugh, her cheeks flushed bright red as if she had caught a chill. But he knew it wasn't that.

Of the men of Easy Company still occupying the hall, not a single one of them appeared sober, the scent of alcohol lingering on the very air. Sitting across the table from Valerie, it appeared George Luz had actually fallen asleep, suddenly roused by the sound of the wine bottle exploding into hundreds of fragments the moment it struck the wall.

"Aw, shit," Nixon sighed. "Looks like they found the good stuff."

Across the room, Skinny Sisk tripped on the edge of a tablecloth that had been left dragging across the floor, tumbling to the ground in a mass of flailing limbs. Val let out a guffaw of laughter, clapping her hands in delight as she slumped further in her seat, reaching for another sip of whatever the hell was in her glass.

"Alright, ok," Ron muttered, rising from his seat and crossing the room in a moment, prying the drink from her hand before it could reach her lips. Val opened her mouth in objection, brow drawn with outrage, but the sudden appearance of the infamous Captain Speirs seemed to sober up the rest of the room, the other men taking the hint to calm themselves and begin shuffling out the door to return to their billets and sleep off their drunkenness.

"I wasn't done with that, yunno," She drawled, barely noticing as Luz drifted away from the table, rubbing at his temples in an attempt to nurse an already developing headache.

"Yeah, you're not gonna be, either," Raising the glass, Ron took a sniff, expression twisting into a grimace. "Jesus. How many of these did you have?"

"I... do not know."

"Hey, Speirs?" Harry called from the next room, clearly impatient to get back to their game.

"Uh, yeah - deal me out, ok? See you fellas tomorrow," He nodded, placing a gentle hand on Valerie's arm to help her to her feet. She swayed slightly, but could certainly walk, and as Ron helped her to the door, he emptied her glass into an unused ice bucket as they passed.

She probably could have made it back up to her room entirely unscathed, even the wobble in her step ebbing away as they exited into the night air, but Ron wasn't sure he'd be able to live with himself if he let her go anywhere alone. "I'm not plastered by the way - I've been plastered, this ain't that."

"Whatever you say," He breathed, arm still secure around her as they descended the front steps to the hotel.

"I'm serious."

"I believe you, dear," Ron nodded, and a giddy grin made its way across her face at the term of endearment. It had slipped out before he could stop it, and he was suddenly grateful for the minuscule chance that she would remember it the next day - he did not in fact believe her.

It was quiet out on the street, the men who had scattered returning promptly to their nearby billets, turning Berchtesgaden back into the ghost town it had been when they had found it. The street lamps cast puddles of golden light as they passed beneath them, his gaze momentarily wandering to Val's face. Her hair had come loose, a strand hanging limply in her face, and the tip of her nose flushed pink in the cool air. Without a word, Ron shrugged off his jacket, slinging it over her shoulders. She did not hesitate to slide her arms into the sleeves, wrapping the jacket tightly around herself, and playing it off as a yawn when she took a deep breath, smelling the scent of his cigarettes that permeated the fabric.

They were mere feet from the front door when Ron felt Valerie slide from his grip, turning to watch as she took a seat on a nearby bench, one foot tucked behind the other, hands in her lap as she looked up at the night sky above.

"Almost there, c'mon," He urged, gesturing for her to follow.

"Come sit down."

Ron didn't move, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Val, come on, you'll catch a cold out here, let's get you insi-"

"Just sit down, Ronald!" Val demanded, almost laughing. She always seemed so ceaselessly amused by him - he wouldn't pretend not to enjoy it, but it struck him as odd sometimes.

Folding his hands awkwardly in his lap, Ron took a seat beside her on the bench, a polite gap left between them. It couldn't have been more than a couple of inches, but it might as well have been a mile for how tempted he felt to move closer.

Her gaze had not shifted from the sky above since the moment he sat down, and after a while spent sitting in silence, he allowed himself to do the same, peering up at the stars above. There was a full moon out that night, hanging like a beacon above them, never quite allowing the town to fall into total darkness as it bathed the ground below in its glow. It was quite marvellous, really.

As weight pressed down on his shoulder, Ron felt his breath catch in his throat, so desperate was he to preserve the serenity of this moment as Valerie leant over, resting her head against him. He scarcely dared more, for fear that he would shrug her off - it was almost comical, the battle-hardened Captain Speirs, who ran past half a dozen tanks at Foy twice over without fear, suddenly paralysed at the prospect of pushing her away.

"Our families are looking at the same moon back home," Valerie said, her voice muffled against the fabric of Ron's jacket as she turned her chin into the collar. "I like thinkin' about that." When she spoke it sounded drowsy, exhaustion tugging downwards at her eyelids.

"C'mon," He urged again, matching her softness. "You can't sleep out here, you'll freeze to death."

Val nodded slowly, her hair catching on his shirt. "That'd be very inconvenient for you."

"Out the the two of us, I don't think I'm the one getting the short end of the stick in this scenario, Val."

"Ah, but you'd miss me," She sighed with a dramatic flourish of her hand, pushing herself up from the bench with a grunt. Ron had not had the chance to stand up himself before Valerie started walking, the sway in her step settled as she confidently made her way down the street.

"You're going the wrong way, dear," He pointed out, gesturing to the front door, mere feet away from them.

"I know that," Val rolled her eyes, turning sharply on her heel and marching up to the front step as he chuckled. Taking the step up, she looked back at him. "C'mere," She ordered.

"What do you want now?" Ron teased, already moving to do her bidding. Taking a step up to stand beside her, they faced each other, shoulders pressed against the front door to the house they were billeted in. Leaning forward, Val pressed her body flat against his, her chin resting on his chest, face tilted up towards him. He could feel her breath, escaping through parted lips and fanning his neck as he peered down at her. Their faces were mere inches apart, and oh, how he had wanted to give in at that moment - give in to the months they had spent together, growing ever more enamoured by her with each passing day. Putting her weight on her toes, she began to push herself up towards him, their lips barely parted, so close their noses brushed against each other.

She was drunk. Ron knew this - could see it in her flushed cheeks, could hear it in her slow words. It would not happen like this. Placing soft hands to either side of her face, he held her back as gently, as tenderly as he could, his thumb skirting across the soft flesh of her cheek as Valerie eased herself back onto her heels, her eyes like dark pools under the light of the street lamp, as wide as he had ever seen them.

"Goodnight Cap'n," Her voice was scarcely a whisper as her hand found the door handle, opening it onto the great foyer inside, the heels of her shoes clacking against the floorboards as she trailed inside. Ron would follow soon - would climb the stairs to his own room along the hall from her own - but for now, he held back, watching on as Val headed upstairs, his jacket still hanging off her back as she disappeared down the hall, the sound of humming trailing after her even after she was gone from sight, fading away with the sound of a closing door. It wasn't until now, when Ron was alone in the foyer, did he realise he was smiling - beaming even. It was very... un-ron-like. But she had wanted to kiss him.

He had done the right thing. He knew this.

But Jesus Christ, was he in deeper than he thought.

#band of brothers #ronald speirs #ronald speirs x ofc #ronald speirs x oc #band of brothers oc #band of brothers fic #hbo war #hbo war fic #hbo war oc #george luz #floyd talbert #lewis nixon #harry welsh #chuck grant #donald malarkey #oc: valerie

[latibvles]

SAD, BEAUTIFUL, TRAGIC.

beautiful, tragic // to be in it with you.

i’ll find a million ways to say it before i say that i’m in—

masterlist | gallery | taglist

TAGLIST: @liebgotts-lovergirl , @softguarnere , @brassknucklespeirs ,@monalisastwin , @mads-weasley , @eugene-emt-roe

SUMMARY: Reaching the Eagles’ Nest makes the day special in more ways than one.

WARNINGS: None!

Picturesque mountains, sun warming her skin, her eyes crinkle at the corners on a squint as she peers at it for a moment. She didn’t think she’d have much time for sightseeing in a war, but here she is — a working draft of a letter balanced precariously on her thigh as she writes out a thank you for the well wishes from her mother, men and women alike all idling on this road etched into the mountainside. Beside her, Jane is also leaned up against the jeep, gray eyes shut to soak in the rays warming them like stones on a riverbed.

“Your French still any good?” she asks, out of the blue cracking one eye open. That was one thing Daisy began to notice about Jane. When she was feeling chatty, she could never anticipate what the girl was going to say or ask. Daisy raises an eyebrow, looking at her sidelong and gives her a shrug.

“It’s alright, I guess. Why d’you ask?”

“Cause I can’t remember a lick of shit since Belgium but I wanna tell the French to haul ass and get rid of the roadblock.” At that, Daisy snorts at the mild irritation edging in Jane’s voice as she says it, folding up her paper and putting it in her pocket.

“What, don’t wanna beat the French to the nest?”

“I don’t give a damn who wins, I just want to get up there already.” Distantly, a sound of an explosion echoes down the road they’re all sat upon, and Daisy snorts. Last Daisy checked, they were getting quite…  creative with how they intended to blow the roadblock sky high. Namely, combining explosives like a high-risk middle school science fair. Grenades, dynamite, bazookas, all which translated in Daisy’s mind as some idiot having too much fun and losing a couple fingers if they weren’t careful enough.

She’s hoping that the joy found in blowing things up might’ve died down a little bit with the war apparently coming so close to an end — but part of her knows that’s just her own foolish optimism.

But it is, admittedly, nice to know she still has some of it left after all this.

“Someone’s antsy,” Daisy can’t help but snicker, and Jane rolls her eyes.

“Ever the astute observations from my fearless leader.” She watches Jane shake out a cigarette and fish through her pocket for the lighter, lights it, and brings it to her own lips before letting smoke escape. Then she offers it to Daisy.

“Yeah well, that’s what they hired me for.”

“Your wise remarks?” Jane asks as Daisy takes it from her, bringing it to her own lips. They share a look as an engine roars and a jeep whizzes by them further up the road.

“My astute observations,” Daisy concurs, “Also, I think you might’ve gotten your wish after all, Gray.”

The town was dead quiet before they came in. An eerily empty place save for the rumble of engines, emblazoned in the red banners that make her entirely angry now. The moment their feet hit the ground, anything that gleams is fair game — for combat nurse and soldier alike, it seems.

Which is to say: Daisy’s bag is heavy with things that weren’t even hers, nor were they things that she necessarily picked up herself. She didn’t expect Rita to have such sticky fingers, but when the argument was that they’d need nice silverware for the apartment they’ve yet to get, she couldn’t exactly argue with that sound logic. And when Easy Company gets fired up to head further up the mountain — she allows herself a moment of childishness, sticking out her tongue to her friend who would be staying behind in town for the moment with the rest of Fox.

Okay, so maybe she got her pick of a couple candleholders in town, and maybe she was just a little bit eager to see if the stone mountain retreat had anything nicer than that. Which it should, because the damn thing had a gold plated elevator.

She’s greeted with lush couches and carpets, champagne in buckets of water that likely was ice, at one point, and the sound of popping bottles as everybody in the place helps themselves to the stash. Daisy wanders, curious as the men chip pieces off that big stone fireplace. She’s on one of the many balconies the retreat holds when Liebgott finds her first. He smacks one of those fireplace chunks unceremoniously into her hand. Then, he offers her the glass-green champagne bottle he’s carrying with him.

“It’s a special day, after all, don’t say I didn’t get you nothin’,” he hums with a knowing glint in his eye. She takes the bottle by the neck, glances up at him with slightly wider eyes and parted lips.

“You remembered?”

“What kinda dumb question is that?” He asks with a bit of a scoff. “‘Course I did, kid, now hurry up before I take the damn bottle back.” Daisy rolls her eyes and takes a swig, champagne bubbles popping on her tongue and going down smooth. It tastes expensive. She grins as she licks the excess from her lips and gives him the bottle back, and then he takes a swig from it himself before ruffling her hair. “Atta girl. Make any wishes?”

“I’d need candles for that.” He grins again and gives her a shrug.

“Sure we could work somethin’ out. Not like ol’ Adolf’s gonna need them. Y’know this place has a goddamn kitchen? Fully stocked.” He says, a sharp bite to the words. Daisy snorts, partially in disbelief.

“What, you're gonna make me a cake or something? I don’t know if I trust you around a stove while you’re drinking.” Joe laughs, a full sound accompanied by another ruffle of her hair. “Tell you what, you find me candles and I’ll make all the wishes in the world.” That seems to satisfy him, the grin not faltering as he looks up and past her. There’s a clearing of the throat, and Daisy turns around.

Ron stands in the doorway, straight-faced and looking between them, before his gaze focuses on Liebgott.

“I need to speak to Lieutenant Clarke, Liebgott,” he informs in that non-negotiable tone of his. As if they had important business to attend to among the pretty scenery and loungers arranged to overlook the woods below. Joe isn’t an idiot, so he nods, resigned.

“Yes, sir,” he responds with a salute, he walks back inside, disappearing into the building and Daisy watches as that stern look on Ron’s face practically melts away.

He’d been the first one up, with Malarkey and Alton. So it didn’t take a genius to know that wherever he’d stored his gear in this place — it would likely clink and clatter until it made its way to Vest at the post office to get all boxed up. He reaches up to tuck some of her hair behind her ear, shorter strands that had fallen from its braid. Something about the mundaneness of the gesture makes her smile.

“One hell of a day,” Ron observes, giving her a knowing look.

“That’s a way to put it, yeah,” Daisy points out with a curious smile. He tilts her chin up with his knuckle until she’s looking at him completely.

“Make any wishes?”

“Didn’t you hear while you were creeping in the shadows? You can’t make a wish without candles.” She points out, and Ron rolls his eyes as he leans down to kiss her, her chin between his thumb and pointer. His lips taste like whiskey, and she can’t help but think back to the last time he drank — all weepy in her lap and dramatic in the morning. The grin that makes it onto her lips is enough to break their kiss. He gives her a half-hearted narrow-eyed look.

“I don’t creep.”

“Lurking then, it’s not a bad thing,” Daisy amends, and she can tell Ron is biting back what has to be a smile as he fishes around in his pocket.

“Fine. Lurking. Doesn’t matter, I got you something.”

“If it’s forks, I’m afraid Rita might have you beat there. I think the drawers might burst if we get any more.” Ron shakes his head immediately with a soft chuckle.

“Not forks, but good to know.”

What he produces from his pocket is much more delicate than the silverware or the candle holders or the hand mirrors.

It’s a sapphire pendant on a thin, silver chain. Delicate and pretty in a way that makes Daisy’s lips part on a gasp. She’d passed quite a bit of jewelry, but none of it were things she’d ever wear so she left it behind for someone else to take. It was all too chunky, too demanding of attention, too weighty in her hands. This was the opposite. Silver curls around that deep blue sapphire, holding it in place, but it was still the centerpiece in spite of the embellishments.

“Happy birthday, Dais,” he says simply. Daisy reaches up, fingers grazing the cold metal in awe. She then looks up at him, a million questions and statements all posed on her tongue.

“Can you put it on me?” is what she decides on, and to that he nods, and she turns around.

Fingers graze the back of her neck as his fingers work to fasten it. She doesn’t care about how he got it, where it came from — just that he’d picked it up not to mail home, but to give to her. And she shouldn’t expect anything less from him, but everything he does still manages to fill her with something that can only be described as pure wonder.

Ron is wonderful. 

It’s not an epiphany of any sort, if anything, she feels like it’s the most obvious statement she could make. Of course he’s wonderful. Because Ron remembers things about people and makes a point to apply it. Ron knows everything about her, he listens to her. He could’ve given her any of the countless too-chunky rings and necklaces left abandoned in town or in this building. But he doesn’t. He finds the thing he knows she’ll wear and gives that to her instead.

So maybe, she’s just a little bit awestruck at how he could love a person like her in such a way. With such careful precision.

She turns around, throws her arms around his neck, and kisses him. His hands find her waist immediately, holding, squeezing as he returns her kiss with ease, remnants of champagne and whiskey mixing on their lips for a moment before they pull away — barely so, because her forehead presses against his and she makes a point to bump their noses.

“I love you, you know that, right?” Daisy breathes out without thinking. But she doesn’t pull away upon realizing what she’s said. She’d rather stare, and she’s glad she doesn’t look away, because he smiles. The rare one, where his eyes crinkle at the corners. Beautiful, breathtaking, rare but still Ron.

“Yeah? You love me?” Ron asks, his voice edging on a tease. It’s like watching years come off him in the span of seconds. He looks so boyish. She nods, cheeks flushing a bit at his tone, but his arms only wrap around her tighter.

“I do.”

He leans forward to kiss her again, briefer than before, but still firm against her.

“Then I love you too,” he mutters, then another kiss. “And when we go home,” kiss, “You know I’m marrying the hell outta you, right?”

Her heart skips a beat.

“Been thinking about that one for a while?” She asks, and Ron squeezes her hips, hazel eyes moving across her features as he examines her face.

“Figured to wait, that you’d want a ring that’s shiny and new and all yours.” And then he waits, leaving it open for her to contradict him — for her to object in any way she sees fit, but she doesn’t.

“You might have a point there.” She watches the way his smile returns.

“So is that a yes?”

Daisy reaches up to take his face in her hands, coarse stubble beneath her palms as she glides her thumbs over his cheekbones. Her turn to begin a sentence with a kiss.

“Ask me again in front of your mother with a ring that’s all mine, and then  you’ll get an answer. Promise.”

Marriage. The thought had always been there — she’d wanted to get married, at some point, to somebody. As a teenager the idea scared her a bit — the thought that she could pick the wrong person clashing with the fantasy in her head of white wedding gowns and her father walking her down the aisle. It only worsened when she found out about the cheating. If she dared think about anything that wasn’t work, or the war, or James, it would tread into territory of her future spouse wrapped up in a secretary or something. Loving someone that wasn’t her.

Ron isn’t just somebody. And the thought of marrying him doesn’t scare her at all. It’s like a piece snapping into place, something sound and correct that she can envision clearly, even if the details are hazy.

One day in a not-so-distant future, he’s going to ask her to marry him. And she’s a hundred percent certain that she’s going to say yes.

The door opens and with that, the whooping and laughter from Harry and Nixon bounce off the walls, bottles of what she can assume is whiskey on ice in a bucket tucked into his arm. She catches Ginny behind the two of them with a small smile on her face, shoulders shaking in laughter.

“There he is! We aren’t interrupting something, are we?” Lew asks, more hypothetical than anything as Ron lets his hands fall to turn around. Ginny, on the other hand, eyes the new piece on Daisy’s neck and gives her a knowing look.

Lew doesn’t wait for an answer, he throws himself on the lounger with a catlike grin, and Harry reaches for one of the bottles.

Ron gives her a look as Harry pops off the cap, and all Daisy does is laugh.

#fic // sad beautiful tragic #ronald speirs x oc #ronald speirs x ofc #band of brothers oc #band of brothers fic #hbo war fic #hbo war oc #hbo war ofc #told yall it would be at the end of the month #which like totally snuck up on me #but HERE IT IS!!

[brassknucklespeirs]

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗔𝗡𝗚𝗘𝗟 𝗢𝗙 𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗧𝗛 [𝗥𝗢𝗡𝗔𝗟𝗗 𝗦𝗣𝗘𝗜𝗥𝗦 𝘅 𝗙!𝗢𝗖]

ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ɪɴᴛʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ - ᴠɪᴇɴɴᴀ

This wasn't a choice she made for herself, oh no. Hell, one could say she wasn't really given one to begin with. But if it was for anyone, it was for those she loved, those she'd lost, those she despised, those she had yet to meet, those she never would, and those who lived purely in her mind.

All were given an extra choice because of the sacrifice she made, the path she so carefully mined for them, through solid walls of opposition, steel like disrespect and mud filled mockeries. She had gotten through it all, fought every battle to win or die before she stepped a single foot into the war. Perhaps that is why she seemed so stoic, so war hardened; a stone statue in a museum, risen high on a pedestal but so infrequently glanced at. Once she had been perfect, a facade crafted and pulled on carefully, whereas now she was simply tired, her determination and spite so often the only thing pushing her forwards.

She left behind a life of ease and contempt so that those who followed need only bring forth their own determination to light the way down the freshly opened track. And there she stood at the end of the path, hands worked to the bone and blood blossoming under her worn clothes, and though no smile could be seen on her face, her dark eyes held a sense of pride as she turned to continue on as a good leader always did.

[ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ ꜱᴏᴏɴ…]

#she's cominggggg #my baby #my precious #my darling girl #i have hidden her away for so long #but now... #now she shall see the light of day #i love her so much #ronald speirs x oc #band of brothers fanfic

[satellitespeirs]

guys I have nearly a whole ron x oc fic planned out on paper but just can't bring myself to write it because I don't believe in it at all... h e l p

#band of brothers #hbo war #ron speirs #fanfic #ronald speirs x oc

[caseadilla111]

speirs x oc

a/n : another little piece I've been working on, still very rusty and I don’t have a title for this yet so apologies for the less than creative header. I don't have a lot of time to write fan fiction or stories anymore so it's been nice flexing my amateur author muscles the past few days. this is going to be a hefty story, lots of words (like multiple pages worth) so I'll post them in chapters. anyway, enjoy <3

softy Speirs, I like to think he's a classic romantic from the 40s.

*disclaimer: this story is about Speirs as a FICTIONAL character, not the real man himself. any personal back story is fictional besides his place of birth, age, and war history (only WWII). This is NOT a fan fiction of Ronald Speirs, the real veteran war hero. This is based on Matthew Settle's portrayal in Band of Brothers.*

oOoOoOoOo

He sat alone at the bar like he always did nearly every night, but unlike the other regulars at the establishment, he only ever enjoyed a whiskey or two, nursing them for the hours he was there. Ronald Speirs wasn’t the type to drown his sorrows and get piss drunk to block out the memories. He’d rather sit with them, think a bit, and soothe the aches that came with each sip. He was quiet, never people watched, never reacted to the music that played. He just stared at the glass in front of him clenching his jaw every so often. Beautiful women frequented old McCullough’s Pub, dancing and twirling their skirts on swing night when the band was really getting into it, but they never were a distraction for the grizzled and war-torn veteran sitting on his stool.

That is, until she walked through those doors.

Maggie wasn’t one for going out all of the time like her friends Lena and Cecilia, but tonight was a special night. Maggie just graduated college and was home for good now. Lena practically begged her to come out tonight to celebrate, but it was really a ploy to get out and meet some impressionable young men who could be their husbands if they played their cards right. Maggie had been to McCullough’s a few times before, popping in here and there when she’d be home for the holidays, and every time she came, she saw that familiar face, sitting alone on the bar, cradling the whiskey glass in his tense hands.

Lena made it a point to grab the first man she fancied and dragged him to the dance floor, shooting Maggie a look encouraging her to do the same. Cecilia, however, was much more mellow than Lena was. The two shared a glance and laughed at their very enthusiastic friend being swung around the small dance floor as they enjoyed their drinks. Eventually, Cecilia’s beau joined them at the pub and Maggie was now alone at their table. She sipped at her beer, watching, and laughing over the music at her two best friends dancing the night away, only to have her gaze stray over to her right and land on the lone man sitting at the bar. He never once looked up or moved from his seat. Not even when he heard the cackling of laughter coming from the dance floor or the cacophony of noise from the live band. Maggie did notice, however, he would flinch here and there any time a glass dropped from behind the bar or a door slammed shut somewhere in the back.

Perhaps driven by liquid courage, her curiosity, or just plain boredom of watching her friends dancing with their men, Maggie took her beer and made her way toward the man at the bar. She placed her half full glass one seat away from him before she spoke. “May I?” Her sweet voice seemed to shake the man from his trance a bit, he blinked a few times before turning to her, stunned for a moment before muttering a “yeah, sure.” Maggie sat, a single barstool separating them, and she brought her glass to her lips, hoping this next sip will bring her enough moxie to do what she normally wouldn’t have done and hour or so ago. “So, what are you celebrating?” She smiled, waiting for him to smile back and joyfully answer, only to be let down with reality. Ron scoffed and looked at her for a moment before answering. “Life.” He watched as her smile began to fade ever so slightly and he felt a pang of regret with his harshness.

“What are…what are you celebrating?” He awkwardly asked, clearing his through in the middle of it hoping to shake the foul mood he seemed to radiate to the other patrons of the pub that he was not previously aware of prior to this encounter. Maggie’s smile returned slightly, maybe this wasn’t a bad idea after all. “I graduated.” She answered cheerfully, and she saw a curious expression come across his face. “College, I graduated college!” Relief now replaced the curiosity in Ron, Maggie giggled at the obvious worry that was hanging in the air for a moment. “Well, here’s to you graduating.” Ron raised his glass and gestured it toward the young woman beside him, and she raised her glass in return to him. “And to celebrating your life!” Ron raised his eyebrows and shook his head slightly, knowing they should not be celebrating his life, or at least the events that made up his life.

A few moments of silence filled the space between them before Maggie decided to speak up again. Typically, she didn't have to try this hard to pull a conversation from a man. She was a fairly attractive young woman and was easy to talk to, why was this so difficult? “So, do you co—” Ron rolled his eyes and cut her off before she could finish.

“Listen, kid—" “Maggie.” “Maggie." He said with a bit of an attitude. "I’m not really one for small talk, okay? That’s great you graduated and all, congrats, you know, hip hip hooray, I can buy you a drink if that’s what you want but please, spare me.” Ron finally spat out, only to feel immense guilt at the words he just let vomit out of his mouth as he saw the expression on the young woman's face in front of him change. She looked like a maimed dog, helpless, big sad eyes, the light escaping them as soon as he shot her down. She shrunk in on herself, finishing her beer in a gulp, glancing at the dance floor almost willing the song to be over so she can go talk to her friends about the jerk at the bar.

Ron was kicking himself. You asshole. Are you allergic to compassion? He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before signaling for the bar tender. “Hey, ki—Maggie, I…I’m sorry. That was—” “Rude.” “Rude is a bit kinder than what I would have said but yes, rude. I’m sorry. I just, I’m not used to the small talk. I come here to just sort of, you know, relax.” The bar tender was now in front of Ron and was drying his hands on the front of his stained apron. “Can I get a uh, a beer, you still want beer?” He looked at Maggie now, and to her surprise he was buying her a drink. “Oh please, you don’t have to.” “Yeah, I do. One beer please and uh, I’ll take another.” He tapped his nearly empty glass with his knuckle and the bar keep was off to fulfill the order.

The drinks were slid in front of them now and Maggie graciously took her glass, the golden ale brimming the crystal in her hands. “Thank you, uh…” she struggled to place a name to the face in front of her, probably because no name was ever given to her before during their awkward and hostile exchange. “Ron. And it’s my pleasure. Really kid, congrats on graduating, that’s a big feat not many can achieve. Here’s to you.” He raised his new glass and Maggie met it in the middle of the space between them with hers, clinking them together ever so slightly.

“I’m sorry for that…outburst…I typically just keep to myself here so, not used to the chit chat.” Ron looked down into the amber liquid in front of him, hoping to find better words to carry a conversation somewhere deep in his glass. Maggie gave a toothless grin, not entirely sure what to say to make this awkward exchange less so. Ron could feel the tension he created with his outburst and attempted to ease it, though he was out of practice with this sort of conversation with people, let alone with a beautiful young broad like herself.

“What did you get your degree in?” He brought his glass to his lips and sipped as he watched her now, taking in the woman seated with him, he didn’t take a moment before to really look at her but the way the warm light from the bar illuminated her features was mesmerizing, her hair was almost a burning golden hue with the reflection of the light on her curly brown tresses, almost like the halos shrouding the Saints he saw in the churches over there in Europe.

“History, bachelors in history.” Maggie licked the foam of her beer from her lips as she answered, nodding her head after while trying to think of a return question for Ron only for him to beat her to it. “So what now?” “Uh, I think I’ll teach.” “Really? Wow, smart girl then, huh?” Ron was actually impressed, but he sure had a way of showing it. It was as if his brain and vocal cords were working against him here. But Maggie laughed a bit, easing Ron of any worry of insult he may have inflicted on her unintentionally by calling her a smart girl as if she were a child.

As the night went on and the drinks were flowing for Maggie, the two began to get along just fine. So fine to the point Maggie had forgotten she had come to the pub with her two girl friends, who now were watching their friend like a hawk from their table, their beaus hovering over them like two protective lions.

Ron started loosening up after talking with her for a few minutes, smiling his signature Ronald Speirs smile, laughing every so often and the jokes she said and asking questions when he could. The mood had made a complete turn from what it was when this young, funny, intelligent woman sat a barstool away from the hardened war hero.

Their conversation was cut short however when Lena and Cecilia came over, Lena clearing her throat to draw Maggie’s attention from Ron to her friends now. “It’s late, we should get going Maggie.” Maggie looked at the watch on her wrist, gasping for a moment when she realized just how long she and the solitary man were chatting for. “It is late…” she frowned toward Ron and he shot her a solemn toothless smirk, nodding his head in agreement and closing his eyes briefly. “It was great meeting you Ron, I had a wonderful time.” Maggie extended a hand to Ron, to which he grasped with his and gave her a firm shake. “Likewise.” He smiled this time, a real Captain Ronald “Sparky” Speirs smile, and he could have sworn he saw her blush. “Okay you two, let’s go.” Cecelia laughed and grabbed Maggie’s free hand, almost dragging her away from the bar and away from Ron. He watched as Maggie faded away with the night when a thought crossed his mind. Maybe it’s too late, did I miss it? No. Go, you idiot!

Ron turned hoping to see them still in the pub but the ladies and their two chaperones were already out the door. Ron hesitated, calculating his next move like he always does, and threw down some cash onto the bar before hastily leaving the pub. “Maggie!” He called out again once he was outside. Luckily, they hadn’t gotten too far, they weren’t even in the cars yet. Maggie turned to Ron’s voice and smiled before turning back to her friends, who smiled back and shooed her away. “Maggie…” Ron started, a little breathy as his adrenaline was pumping and he practically leapt off of his barstool to catch her. “…I had a good time tonight. Thank you for keeping me company, talking to me.” “Of course, Ron.” Maggie smirked and bowed her head a bit, a loose curl falling onto her forehead before being swept back by the cool summer breeze. “May I see you again?” Ron was a confident man, but something about this young woman humbled him, so much so that he felt like a schoolboy again asking his honey to the dance. There was a pause after he asked, he could almost see the question hanging there between them, in bright red letters, dripping in anticipation. Maggie blushed and self-consciously tucked her auburn locks behind her ear. “I would like that very much so, Ron. Yes.” She smiled and Ron smiled back, he admired the way she looked bathed in the moonlight now. There is no lighting she wouldn’t look good in I bet.

“Oh!” Maggie reached into her handbag and pulled out her pocket pad and pencil, scribbled down a number, tore the page out and handed it to Ron, which he graciously took while simultaneously holding onto her hand. “Call me between 7:30 and 5:15. We eat dinner around 5:30-6 so no phone calls. And I’m free every day except for Sundays.” Ron chuckled at her instructions but nodded, agreeing to the conditions. “Well, it was great meeting you Ron.” “It was great meeting you too, Maggie.” They both paused for a moment, not sure who should make the first move until Maggie decided it would be her who stood on her tip toes and gave Ron a sweet peck on the cheek before turning back to join her friends and head home for the night.Ron stood in the lot, cheek tingling from the kiss, and watched as this remarkable young woman walked away from him. He came to McCullough’s as he did any other night that he couldn’t escape his mind and the memories of who he once was, but he never expected to be revived to his former self tonight by a bright beautiful girl who decided to take a chance on the solitary man sitting on his own at the bar.

#ron speirs #ronald speirs #band of brothers #ronald speirs x oc #speirs x oc #softy speirs #soft speirs

[malarkgirlypop]

Masterlist

Requests for one-shots are OPEN! ❤️

🖋️🖋️#bobcollab

About me:

My name is Kate I go by she/her pronouns, I’m 23, just happy to be here really this fandom is so supportive! Have a look around, and don’t be scared to message me!

My OC's

Lemonade (Eugene Sledge x Fem!OC):

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

MEDIC! (Donald Malarkey x Fem!OC): Moodboard 1 - 2 - 3 - 4

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie: (Donald Malarkey x Fem!OC AU)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

BoB x Reader

Ronald Speirs:

Green-eyed Monster

Edward Tipper:

Warriors part 1

Warriors part 2

Joseph Liebgott:

Goody part 1

Goody part 2

Goody part 3

Bull Randleman:

He's the Boss Part 1

He's the Boss Part 2

He's the Boss Part 3

He's the Boss Part 4

David Webster:

This is for you

Eugene Roe:

Come Away With Me

Lena Riggi:

Lie with me?

#masterlist #band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #my oc character #My OC #My writing #My work #donald malarkey #fanfic #band of brothers imagine #Edward Tipper #ronald speirs #the pacific x oc #hbo war #Eugene Sledge #the pacific #I finally made a master list #I wanted it to be more pretty but idk how #please help me lol

[1waveshortofashipwreck]

Should've Been Born Later, Nix - Chapter 1: The Fall

Easy Company x Fem!OCs

Synopsis: What will happen when some of Easy Company's finest soldiers fall through a foxhole and into another time?

Words: 1,314

Find the fic's navigation page here !!

Author's Note: HERE WE GO LADS!! The first chapter of my self-serving BoB time travel fic!! If you want to be added to the taglist please let me know !!

Luz was the last one to arrive on the ground, immediately crashing into Malarkey with a resounding thud… Well, resounding for someone as small as Luz. He was the last to drop onto the pile of Easy Company men - a giant pile of limbs, helmets, and olive drab was groaning in pain, bewildered eyes darting in every direction. One minute they were dropping into a foxhole in Bastogne. The next?

Winters was the first to jump to his feet, helping his men find their footing. Up came Nixon, Liebgott, Roe, Guarnere, and Bull Randleman. Speirs and Toye had gotten themselves up and situated, looking to make sure they had all their gear. Luz was still on the ground, trying to get his bearings, while poor Malarkey was doubled over underneath him. “FUCK, LUZ!” Cried Malarkey, his hands shooting to his ribs as his body folded in pain. “I think you broke something!” Malarkey’s feet rammed themselves into Luz’s back, flinging the soldier off of Malarkey and onto his stomach with an “oof!”

“You say that like I did it on purpose!” Luz cried, wincing from the boots in his back. By the time George finally got his feet beneath him, Roe was already looking at Malarkey’s side, inspecting his injury.

The Cajun grimaced and shook his head. “It might be broke, Malark. We should get you to the aid station,” Roe spoke thoughtfully. "Which way sho-" Before the medic could finish his thought, all the boys realized something. They had no idea where they were.

The boys all looked around and took in their surroundings. “Where the fuck are we?” each soldier thought to himself, attempting to find a single scrap of familiarity in the landscape around them. The higher they looked, the taller the walls on either side of the group grew - not tall enough to be skyscrapers, but tall enough to tell the ten men that they were not in Bastogne anymore. What was once a frigid warzone, one step away from death, now became… warm? Sunny? Well, it seemed sunny at the ends of the alleyway.

“...are we in an alley?” Bull mused to no one in particular. He absentmindedly chewed on his Emotional Support Cigar, using this to contain his anxious thoughts and energy.

"It appears so Bull…" Winters replied. He had intended for the sentence to be more assuring, but the men's leader was just as confused as the rest of them. The captain exchanged a glance with Nixon beside him, the only man he was comfortable sharing his worry with. The two looked at each other, their eyes conveying confusion mixed with anxiety - how could this happen? What exactly happened?

"Captain Nixon, you're an intelligence officer right? Do you know where we are sir?" Guarnere asked as he slung his rifle over his shoulder, still taking in the alley around them. The brick buildings on either side of the men provided shade from the sun shining down on the pavement. The alley appeared to be barren, save for a Hershey bar wrapper beside Luz's feet. Bending down to get a closer look, the radioman saw a piece of text on the wrapper that morphed his confusion into panic - "expires January 2023." Before Nixon could answer Guarnere, Luz's shaky voice spoke up.

"Um, Captain Winters? You might wanna see this sir," Luz said as he handed the wrapper to his CO, his mind going a mile a minute. Dick took the wrapper from George and saw the text, scrunching his face as he read the expiration date.

"Nix, how long does it take chocolate to expire?" Winters asked, looking up at his captain.

"Why the hell do you think I'd know that?" Nixon replied, one eyebrow halfway up his forehead. Only after Lewis posed his question did he see the infamous date on the wrapper. Nixon paused for a second before he spoke up, "well surely it would expire way before 2023…"

Upon hearing the year, every man's eyes became the size of dinner plates. "Excuse me, sir? I think I heard you wrong, sounded like you said 2023," Liebgott questioned, a nervous chuckle following his words. He couldn't have heard Nixon right…right? Winters simply handed the wrapper over to Liebgott, the poor man's stomach dropping down below his feet.

"That's not possible, this isn't possible…" Toye muttered under his breath, trying to shake the idea from his head. While all the men were trying to process what Nixon said, Speirs had already made his way to the end of the alley.

"Captain Winters!" He called out, twisting his body to call out behind where he was standing. Winters nodded to Nixon, a silent request to keep an eye on his men, before making his way down to Speirs. The warm sun at the end of the alley was a welcomed surprise to Dick - it felt like forever since he felt mild, comfortable weather. Bastogne was the literal manifestation of hell frozen over, and the sun kissing Dick's skin was its absolute anathema. "Sir, I don't think this is Bastogne," Speirs' comment shook Winters from his mind, reminding the captain of the problem at hand. The two took in the scene around them. Winters thought he was seeing cars - they had four wheels, and they were driving on the street, but they were far beyond any car anyone in the company has ever seen before. The soldiers seem to have landed in a city of some kind. All the street signs were in English, giving Winters a small amount of relief - wherever they were, they spoke the language. Something different stood out to Speirs, though… the noise. It was not bombs exploding and trees breaking like in Bastogne. It was just as loud, but more…lively? The sounds, whatever they were, seemed to celebrate life rather than take it - honking horns, vehicles driving by, music Speirs had never heard before blaring from their windows - he would never admit to it, but Speirs felt a pang of relief knowing he was not in a war zone.

"I'm inclined to agree with you, Ron," Dick replied before hearing their medic call out.

"Sir! We need to get Malarkey to the ai- uh… I guess a hospital," Eugene called out as he made his way towards Winters and Speirs, supporting Easy's other redhead on his shoulder. Malarkey's face twisted in pain as he held his side with the arm that was not slung over Roe's shoulders. Dick nodded in understanding at his medic and stepped a foot out of the alley, getting a better look at the buildings around him. To his right, Winters spotted the red cross universally associated with medicine displayed prominently on a tall, light-colored building riddled with mirrored windows. Beneath the cross were the words "Emergency Room."

"You think they can help Malarkey?" Speirs asked, hopeful but confused at the words. Seeing Roe holding up Malarkey, the officer quickly made his way to Malarkey's other side, taking his arm over his shoulder to help the soldier.

"It's worth a shot, wait here," Winters replied, heading back to the rest of the men to tell them the plan. "Alright men, there's a place that looks like a hospital a short walk from here. Keep your guard up. Just because it doesn't look like Bastogne, doesn't mean we're in friendly territory," he instructed the six men before him, "Keep Speirs, Malarkey, and Roe in the center, I'll lead the way to the hospital." A chorus of "yes sirs" was heard from Luz, Liebgott, Guarnere, Toye, and Bull, while Nixon nodded in understanding and walked up beside Winters.

"Are you sure about this?" Nixon asked under his breath, ensuring only Winters heard his question.

"Got any better ideas?" Dick replied, cautiously emerging onto the sidewalk. The men left the safe haven of their alley and began the trek to save their friend.

~~~~~

Chapter Two

Thank you so much for reading! Please tell me what you think and be on the lookout for Chapter 2: the Hospital!!

Taglist: @love--persevering , @panzershrike-pretz , @executethyself35 , @stolen94 , @dontirrigateme

#should've been born later nix #band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #hbo #hbo war #easy company #my writing #time travel #credit to pic owners in chapter collage!! #easy company x oc #richard winters #dick winters #lewis nixon #eugene roe #ronald speirs #joe liebgott #george luz #donald malarkey #bill guarnere #joe toye #bull randleman #emily shut up

[basilone]

Every so often, I write things that don't make it further than a groupchat. They're often AU try-outs, characterization processes, the genuine meaning of the term 'spaghetti' when it comes to writing stuff and seeing what sticks. Not everything is publication-proof, but some of this stuff definitely is. And because it's that time, because this AU has been stuck in my brain for months, I'm going to haul a little something out of groupchat confinement. Keywords here being: Speirs as an artist, with my OC Tatiana as his rather unruly muse. I hope you'll enjoy it!

She is the best out of a very bad bunch. That’s what Chuck had claimed, at least, and Ron isn’t about to argue with his friend’s patient but brutal process of vetting models. About three hundred women swiped firmly to the left by photo alone, to be more precise. Ron doesn’t even want to know what happened to the lunch hour meetings that had Chuck rambling out a state-of-education-in-this-country-holy-fuck condemnation that had lasted until well into the early morning hours.

The Russian was all he was going to get.

He’d complained about it, sure. Too blonde, too frail-bodied, had been his initial dismissal, eyeing the very few photos Chuck had provided. He’d wrinkled his nose at the tilt to her chin and the wordless challenge she’d dealt the camera. All the air of a spoiled brat.

Then, however, she’d sauntered into his studio and all his complaints had become personal.

Tatiana soaks up space. He doesn’t know if she does it on purpose, or if it’s just a fact of life that her fur coat lands on his table and her chewing gum gets stuck beneath his best table and her high heels leave a dent in his favorite chair. She doesn’t reach past his shoulder, really, but he’d griped a like Godzilla trampling through Tokyo at Chuck after one particularly trying afternoon when she’d stood in the middle of his studio and had attempted to dictate where all his lights and equipment should go.

She can’t hold still for five minutes, either. If he was a lesser painter, dependent on models sitting utterly still, this would be the real issue. He almost wishes he could throw her out over it anyway, citing some sort of irreconcilable artistic differences that would sound vague even to his ears, but then the sunlight crowns her blonde hair with a halo and he sucks in a breath and bears the offense of her gesturing about politics and stupid Ameeeeericans regardless.

He captures her defiance before he paints anything else. There’s a glitter to her eyes that sparks even more of a challenge than her photos did, brought to life by the fact that she can’t shut up about all of the things he doesn’t care about and proceeds to make all those things his problem by leaving books and folders in the strangest places around his studio. He pulls all her gestures into the art he makes – the crossed arms, the dismissive wave of her hand, the impatient tap of her foot – until it’s all motion and a blur of color that she eyes critically and sneers a need more blue at.

Blue is her favorite color, which he realizes only when he leaves her alone in his studio just so he can stock up on coffee and cigarettes and returns to find her doodling on a stray canvas with nothing but blue paint. He watches her for a time, leaning against the doorway, cataloging her lip bite and the certainty of the brush strokes before he slams the door shut too loudly and proceeds to argue even louder about not helping yourself to other people’s stuff without asking, Tatiana, what are you, five years old? that’s got her raising her brows and tossing his new packs of cigarettes back out the window before she takes her leave.

It’s the last he sees of her for a while, though he finds bits of her everywhere. There’s the ugly unicorn mug she’d snort-laughed over having bought, wedged between his own mugs in the kitchen cabinet, and there’s the glitter-spilling tank top that he’d made her change out of when it had looked like his rug was suddenly bright pink and sparkling. There’s the folder about incarceration rates and discrimination that she’d debated for over an hour without realizing once that he was agreeing with every word she said, tucked away in her copy of Du Maurier’s Rebecca that she’d underlined and annotated in scribbled Russian he only knows is not critique because no hated book could ever be this dog-eared and worn.

He almost tells Chuck he’s going to need a different model, because the two last paintings have yet to be made, but then he turns on the radio to find that Tatiana had switched the channels from rock to classical again. Ron thinks he can paint her blind the minute he hears the waltz she used to hum under her breath whenever she claimed he was being really very stupid, dumbest American I ever met, oxygen thief, like drill sergeant in army, and other insults he had only ever shrugged at.

He paints her from memory, in blue.

She shows up the next morning.

I need money, she says, looking small for once in her life.

To buy ice cream? He asks, just to be that asshole, just to have something to say that isn’t happiness at seeing her. You came back for that?

Yes, she says, waving her hand in such clear dismissal that he almost laughs, of course for ice cream.

He lets her walk back into his life like she’s never been gone. Her high-heeled boots land on his best table as she leans back in his favorite chair, lights a cigarette, and starts to gesture about her friend who’s doing ballet and her brother who’s dating a man they grew up with as if he knows and cares about these people in the same way she does. He tries to listen as she downs three coffees in quick succession, but then her hair comes loose from her braid and her favorite jacket slips down from her shoulder and he’s sketching with charcoal before he good and well realizes that was not a part of their artist-model agreement.

He half-expects her to argue that point, but she never does. All he gets is a my mouth does not do that thing and a pat on his head as though he is now the five-year-old stuck with a mother who could do nothing but make him cry.

There’s nothing soft about her. She does kickboxing, or so she’s told him, and he’s pretty certain some of her fights were the illegal kind if the spider’s web of scars on her side is anything to go by. The one time Chuck and friends had come over when she was just leaving had ended with one panicked look at being handed a baby, as if she hadn’t the faintest clue how one is meant to act around such a small and squalling thing. He’d seen her defenses go all the way up before she’d shoved the child at him and disappeared in a cloud of loud stomping footsteps that hadn’t endeared her to anyone.

There’s nothing soft about the way she always gets in his face when she’s arguing and thinks he’s not listening, or about the way she presses against his arm and invades his space with her gestures. There’s nothing soft about the tilt of her chin when she glares up at him. There’s nothing soft about the way she goes utterly quiet one night, listening to a podcast in Russian that he dares not interrupt because the look on her face is terrible and terrifying in equal measure, and proceeds to sob her heart out in loud and keening wails that almost have her throwing up all over his kitchen table until he makes hushing sounds and sits with her until her nails have left permanent imprints in the palms of his hands.

She’s loud and demanding and tough and he doesn’t realize he paints her in sharp lines and sweeping arches until Chuck eyes his recent works and calls her a cathedral that houses all of your fuck-ups and dreams as though that explains why his insides don’t feel right. Ron can barely meet her eyes in the days that follow.

She’s on his doorstep one evening, teetering in heels, loose-haired and wrapped in a black-and-gold dress he doesn’t want to linger on, and he lets her in despite all his misgivings. Tatiana’s small-voiced in a way he hates, now, because her lower lip wobbles when she says she left her fur coat behind in that fancy restaurant uptown. I don’t know where I go so I come here tumbles past her lips and her eyes meet his almost as though she dares him to turn her away.

You can stay, he says instead, sighing and dropping his paint-stained cloth on the stool beside the too-blue and too-much-of-Tatiana painting that he thinks holds a good deal more than he should express out loud.

The look she shoots him is wondering. Open in a way that scares him, if he’s honest, and maybe that’s what makes him cross the gap between them.

Maybe that’s why he kisses her this time.

She tastes like cherries and mulled wine, warm with something of a bite, and the surprised sound that trembles loose from the back of her throat is almost a cat’s purr. Her mouth is gentle, pliant, welcoming in a way that the rest of her has never been. He almost reels back from the touch but then her tongue runs over his bottom lip and her hands land in his hair and he crashes against her whole. Her back’s against the wall and still she escapes confinement by kicking her heels off mid-kiss and running her bare foot up his leg until he presses up against her hips. She muffles a whimper against his mouth that he almost dares smile at.

Ron, she breathes, when his hand tangles with her hair and his other hand’s skimming past the hem of her dress, and it might be the first time she’s ever said his name and certainly the first time it’s not accompanied by a roll of her eyes.

Tatia, he hums, because she’s been Petrova since Chuck showed him her photos and Tatiana since she walked into his life and Tati Tat Tanya in different stories about different people and Tanusha to the brother he’s never met, and he wants to know her in a way that all these people do not. Tatia, Tatia, he murmurs when his hands slip the straps of her dress of her shoulder and she doesn’t stop him but arches into the touch, come here, hm, let me..

She kisses him to drown out the words. Streaks of blue paint are on her cheeks, on her thigh, in her hair. He’s sure he’ll never eat another cherry without tasting her again.

#ronald speirs #oc: tatiana #ron x tatiana #basilonefic #am I a lil nervous about posting it? yes #but I'm being very brave about it

[trashbag-baby666]

Guys I have covid so hit me with more request prompts from this list!! Ive got a few boring days ahead of me!!!

Taking requests for:

Band of Brothers:

Joe Liebgott

Webgott

Luztoye

Baberoe

Winnix

Speirton

The Hunger Games:

Finnick Odair

Top Gun: Maverick:

Rooster Bradshaw

Hangman Seresin

OC’s:

Daisybilly

Baberoe/Graham

#request #finnick odair x oc #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #thg fanfiction #the hunger games #band of brothers #joe liebgott #george luz #david webster #joe toye #luztoye #webgott #babe heffron #eugene roe #baberoe #dick winters #lewis nixon #winnix #ronald speirs #carwood lipton #top gun maverick #bradley rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #hangman seresin #jake seresin

[wexhappyxfew]

Landslide | Chapter 92 | Where The Enemy Once Stood

"There is no teacher but the enemy. No one but the enemy will tell you what the enemy is going to do. No one but the enemy will ever teach you how to destroy and conquer. Only the enemy shows you where you are weak."

- Orson Scott Card, Ender's Game

Natia spent more time than she wanted in the Eagles' Nest.

Sometimes, she just wanted to climb up to the top of the mountain and inhale some of the fresh mountain air and feel her muscles burn from the work it took to get up the mountain. Sometimes, it was because it was far quieter than down the mountain in the main area of Berchtesgaden and more often these days, she longed for some quietness. Sometimes, it was just because she wanted to stare at the mountains. Just sit and stare and listen to the wind blow overtop the mountains and down into the valley, hitting the trees and rustling their fresh summer leaves.

Today was because she was bored. Not that there wasn't plenty to do, but today, she had finished all the assignments Captain Speirs needed to have written up, some of the enlisted were already downing some bottles of wine and champagne they'd scrounged, and things for the most part were settled in.

Years ago, this would have bothered her. Being in a place such as this where the enemy once stood all alone with herself - of course, some of the officers were here and there were people in other rooms, but the great large room that served as the residential sitting room it seemed, remained in her occupancy. And she was all alone. She didn't mind being alone as much anymore.

[read the rest on AO3 + Wattpad]

｡↷ ✧*̥₊˚‧☆ﾐ

hellloooo!!! long time no see! and i’m updating a consistent week later woooo!!! vv excited personally bc it’s been a bit since that’s happened lol! :) natia’s story continues to toss and term and trickle its way to its ending and this last big chunk of chapters are all just very satisfying to see posted bc it’s an ending idea i’ve had in my for at least a year now so, it’s very rewarding to see these get published! if you ever have any questions about the fic or natia, im always open, but in any case, thank you to everyone that reads, i really do appreciate it so much! and once again, happy reading! :)

taglist: @chaosklutz @juliannetoinette @huenoclue @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @tvserie-s-world @liebegott @wecomrades @thoughpoppiesblow @cetaitlaverite @rogue-sunday @legally-devorak @alejodi0nysus @mrsalwayswrite @supervalcsi @heffrcns @xthefourthx @whoahersheybars @kryzes @papersergeant-pencilsoldier @whovian45810 @sergeant-spoons @geniedocroe @holdingforgeneralhugs @martinsrestingbitchface @pipster4107 @mads-weasley @hinkel-im-home @heirsoflilith @icantdecideofthename

-> as always, let me know if would like to be added/removed from the taglist! :D

#band of brothers #bob fic #bob oc #band of brothers fic #band of brothers x oc #landslide #natia filipska #richard winters #lewis nixon #harry welsh #ronald speirs #carwood lipton #joe liebgott #george luz #natia is actually vv funny once u give her a bottle of champagne #chatty - and i quote from harry welsh himself

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

I just HAD to write something for the Ron x Val Medieval AU. We all knew this was coming. They're ingrained in my brain and I'm going absolutely insane. Shout out to @xxluckystrike and @dcyllom for hyping this up, love you guys!!!

The smell of smoke, ale and blood filled the air of the tourney ground, the deafening clang of sword against armour suppressing all other sound, save for the raucous cheers of the crowds, the peasants and nobility alike leaping to their feet to clap and shout for each victory or violent loss. It was near halfway through the third day of the tournament - an ironic way to celebrate the returning troops who now risked their very life and limb in the games, Valerie thought - but her father had always enjoyed marking their victories with indulgence and sport.

Hidden away from the action and excitement, Valerie crouched beside one of the huge barrels of wine, waiting in the dimly lit tent for the returning knights to drink and celebrate, pouring a thin stream of the red liquid into her goblet, tongue drawn between her teeth in concentration. It was likely she had another thirty minutes before the King and Queen noticed her prolonged absence from the festivities and sent someone to find her, and she aimed to make the most of this time. So concentrated was she in pouring herself a glass - balanced on the balls of her feet, eyes level with the spout in the low light - that she did not notice another figure enter the tent behind her.

"Your Highness?" An almost familiar voice spoke, low and smooth, but enough to surprise her, the goblet tumbling onto the grass below.

"Oh, damn it all," She muttered, stretching up to stand, gaze fixed on the wine as it soaked into the dirt until it was gone.

"My apologies," Ronald Speirs, somewhat shrouded in shadow, stepped forward, and Valerie watched as he bent down to retrieve the cup for her, brow furrowed as he momentarily considered refilling it before reaching for a clean one instead. "I didn't mean to startle you."

Her brow furrowed as he pressed the newly filled goblet into her palm. Everyone knew about Ronald Speirs - of his bravery, his reputation as one of the greatest warriors their kingdom had ever seen - and yet here he stood, entirely plainclothed, not so much as a shoulder plate to armour himself.

"You're not competing?" She asked, taking a sip of her wine.

"I'm no tourney knight," He frowned, scoffing, reverential tone almost gone before he seemed to remember who he was talking to. He offered a respectful nod in penance.

Valerie almost laughed. "Uh oh. Is the Great Warrior Ser too good for such things?" Teasing, she took another goblet from the table nearby, pouring a second cup of wine and handing it to him.

"Entirely," Ron smirked, raising the cup to his lips, his gaze never leaving hers. If she had been one of the more sheepish women of the court, Valerie might have blushed. Instead, the self-same smirk mirrored itself in her expression, cheeks creasing in the dim light.

"Well, in that case, you'll just have to come and watch," She shrugged, making her way towards the half-open tent flap.

He let out a huff of laughter, shaking his head. "No, I don't watch."

Valerie looked over at him, raising a brow in scrutiny. "I hope you're not about to make a habit of disobeying your princess," She remarked, a humourous glint in her eye that he could scarcely refuse.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The joust was in full swing, wooden shields exploding into clouds of splinters as lances collided at speed, the crowd whooping and jeering as the occasional knight was flung from his horse into the mud below. In a narrow gap between the huge stands, Valerie watched on, out of sight from the crowds, her official seat as princess notably empty in the royal box. Ron stood a short distance behind her, a presumed attempt to preserve propriety, as the space was barely wide enough for them to stand shoulder-to-shoulder, and he didn't like the idea of being caught in such a position.

She laughed as another knight was toppled from his horse, polished armour muddied and scratched as he rolled sideways along the field. "Come here, you can't see it from back there," Val glanced back at Ron, gesturing for him to approach. He stood still for a moment, opening his mouth to protest before she interrupted. "That's an order, Ser. I thought you were usually good at following those."

Shoulders tensed, he awkwardly approached, the pair standing with their backs pressed against opposite walls, a last-ditch attempt at preserving some space between them. As the current round of jousting ended, and the victor was declared, Ron realised she had noticed the scowl that creased his expression as he watched over the proceedings.

"He's a pompous ass," He muttered, gesturing to the winner. "Fathered three bastards whilst we were away, too."

"Really?" Val gasped, a chuckle escaping her throat as he nodded in affirmation. Ron had not struck her as the type to know about his comrade's personal lives, let alone gossip about them. But she had always been enthralled by the scandalous secrets of others, for she had none of her own... yet.

"Oh, yes, on three different women," He continued, awkward restraint ebbing away as she realised he was beginning to enjoy himself, pointing out various knights visible from where they stood. "Today is the first time I've seen that one sober in weeks - terrible drunkard. The one next to him's no better - spent every peaceful night of the campaign in the whorehouse... forgive me, your Highness, that was improper."

"No, no," She grinned, shaking her head. "I'm having a marvellous time."

It was at that moment, across the joust field, that Valerie noticed her mother appear suddenly incensed, gesturing irritably at her daughter's empty seat, sending away a small group of guards, presumably to locate her. "Damn," She uttered.

"What is it?" Ron asked, surveying their surroundings for any possible issue. His eyes widened as she seized his hand, the softness of her palm starkly contrasting his, the rough, calloused skin a result of years of work, a scattering of scars as testament to a youth spent training with a blade. She tugged him from their hidden alcove and out into the maze of tents behind the tourney ground, darting between them as he followed, brow furrowed in confusion.

"My mother's looking for me," Val explained hurriedly, eyes wide as she paused for a moment, the pair shrouded by the canvas canopies. "Quick, you know this place better than I do. Where do I go?"

Ron paused, feeling her hurried heartbeat against his fingertips as they briefly brushed against her wrist. Earlier that morning, she had almost certainly looked immaculate, but now her intricately braided hairstyle was undoing itself, a few loose strands hanging low in her face.

She was almost certainly going to get him in trouble.

He found he didn't care.

"This way."

#band of brothers #ronald speirs #ronald speirs x ofc #ronald speirs x oc #medieval au #ron x val #oc: valerie #band of brothers oc #band of brothers au

[latibvles]

SAD, BEAUTIFUL, TRAGIC.

beautiful, tragic // lean on me.

these walls are my skin. this room is my heart. besides, i have a sister brother.

masterlist | gallery | taglist

TAGLIST: @liebgotts-lovergirl , @softguarnere , @brassknucklespeirs , @monalisastwin , @mads-weasley , @eugene-emt-roe , @mads-weasley

SUMMARY: The Company passes over the Rhine

WARNINGS: The events of episode nine, none of the Camps are depicted — there’s a much more lengthy note in e end notes on AO3.

Spring is in full bloom by the time they cross over the Rhine.

She and Ginny exchange a smile, a small, wavering thing, because Daisy’s stomach still churns all the same in this new place. It’s not Berlin, but it’s still Germany. Germany, which the men were fantasizing about marching into since last June. Whenever Daisy thought about it, she imagined the smell of gunpowder and bodies lining the riverbeds, more land scarred by foxholes and tanks, grass stained with spilled blood. She imagined a permanent ringing in her ears from the artillery fire.

The sky is brilliantly blue, the grass is green, and the only sound breaking through the quiet is that of the trucks rumbling down the road and the men talking about one thing or another.

It looks normal, and Daisy feels a little silly for imagining anything otherwise.

The fact that she has the time to mull over any of it feels misplaced. Like she’s doing something inherently wrong. Every time they entered a new place she was ready to leap off the truck to the first wounded man, and be put to work.

“What’d you think you’re gonna do when all of this is over?”

The question takes her by surprise, she lets her gaze drift back over to Ginny, whose eyes are on the jeep ahead of theirs with more officers.

When it’s over. Inevitably, talks about future plans were springing up all over the place. Word spread fast about Captain Nixon’s divorce. Eugene admitted he’d never actually been able to have his wedding over breakfast, that it was the first thing he would do when the war ended. Daisy looks over the side at signs in a language she still can’t read.

“Rita wants to go home with me, there’s an apartment I wanna get — if it’s still there,” she explains. “I… don’t know what, after that. What about you?”

There’s a pause, like Ginny’s mulling it over.

“Honestly? Haven’t given it much thought.” She starts out, but there’s a level of calmness to the way she says it. “I’ll go home, obviously, but I threw a wrench in all my parents’ plans when I left. Should probably check the collateral on that.”

What surprises Daisy isn’t Ginny’s honesty, but more so the casual way that she says it. Like she’s not afraid of going home to something unknown. As usual, Daisy finds herself caught in the middle of envy and admiration when it comes to how Ginny handles things. And it serves as an acute reminder that she’s staring a whole lot of uncertainty square in the face. Which is to say a lot beyond the most obvious, which Ron told her not to focus on, and he had some sixth sense which granted him that ability to know when she was thinking about it.

He’d pinched her side the other day, sharp and subtle. She nearly jumped three feet in the air. He just gave her a look, like he knew she was getting in her head again. Which she was, but that was neither here nor there.

“I wanna keep doing this.” Daisy admits, looking at her hands. Ginny shifts her attention fully to her, she can feel her stare.

“What, like staying in the Army?” Daisy shakes her head.

“No uh… helping people. I don’t think I have it in me to be in a big hospital though, something smaller,” A private practice, maybe. Somewhere she’s less likely to encounter a blown limb. “I don’t wanna let what I’m good at go to waste.” I don’t want to waste away is what she doesn’t say, but she’s thought about it more than she wants to admit.

If Ginny understands what Daisy’s trying to say, she doesn’t give any indication to how she feels about it.

Never in her life did she imagine a point in the war where she’d be more worried about stretching her legs, but when they pull into the town, it’s the first thing on her mind — letting out a prolonged groan as she stretches out her legs, her back. The chuckle behind her has her rolling her eyes with lingering affection, and she turns her head to see Joe staring at the area around them.

“They’ve got real fuckin’ houses,” he points out, surprised, with that simmering irritation beneath his words.

He had a right to be pissed about it. As did she and every other person occupying the streets right now, being stared at — their war looked like bombed out buildings, rationing, gunfire ringing in their ears and the ever-present threat of a German advance springing them into action again. Even London was scarred by all the air raids over the past four years. How many people had been forced from their homes in Eindhoven and Bastogne?

What do the people here get? Trucks rumbling through their streets and the off-chance that they’re booted from their home for a night.

She doesn’t know what it says about her that she doesn’t feel bad for their circumstances. There’s too much on her mind for her to care about that sort of thing.

“Bet they’ve got lights that work too,” she points out, taking those few steps back to bump his arm with her own, “Indoor plumbing. Better beds.” She casts a look down towards the other officers, makes a mental note to move down there and seeing what’s what — how long they’d be here and what the situation was looking like.

Joe’s lip curls in a way that reminds her of Bastogne, more teeth than smile, something sharp and red-hot burning behind the eyes.

“S’gonna be good times ahead of us, Dais,” he declares, shaking a cigarette from the pack and bringing it to his lips. She can’t help but wonder if he’s saying it moreso to convince himself, than her of that fact.

Dick doesn’t think they’ll be in this town for more than a night, so they don’t completely unload like they had in the previous town. They’d taken hold of the local clinic, its staff mouthing off in puzzled, rapid-fire German and Private Webster playing translator for the whole of the interaction. Like most of them, it involved a lot of shouting, voices overlapping and overpowering one another.

They had five minutes to clear out, and thereafter the place went quiet, the majority of the other combat nurses scattering across town to their respective platoons in their respective companies.

She stares up at the one bookshelf built into the wall. Unsurprisingly, all of the titles were in German, so nothing for her to pluck from the shelves.

A vase of bright yellow daisies sat by the windowsill, catching the sunlight shining through the windows. They made sure the doctor here left the key for the pharmacy in the back behind.

In Haguenau, finding a box of tea felt like striking gold. In Mourmelon, nothing was growing. Here, they actually have a pharmacy.

The door opens with a ringing of the bell — so normal it makes her stomach lurch — and she turns her head. Ron doesn’t seem to notice her at first, with his gaze flitting about the room and for a moment Daisy can’t help but snicker.

“No trinkets here,” she points out, and his gaze snaps to her as though she might’ve actually startled him. “I don’t think your mother needs any more ornate candle holders anyway,” He takes those few steps forward, slight twitch to the corner of his mouth and eyes rolling at her remark. “How’s Janovec? Still ducking out of your sight?” Ron waves his hand dismissively.

“He’ll be fine.”

“Ah, but that’s not what I asked, is it?” Amusement lingers behind his stony gaze and she can’t help but roll her eyes with affection. Ridiculous. That’s what he is. There’s no other way to describe how much he got a kick out of watching replacements squirm at the sight of him. Ridiculous like the antics of a teenage boy telling someone a scary story.

He shrugs, nonplussed, but when he’s about to speak again the door slams open. Daisy snaps her gaze to a panting, red-faced Perconte.

“Major… Major Winters needs you at the front, sir.”

They share a look, and a nod, and then he’s off.

Spring was in full bloom over the Rhine. It didn’t look like that in the camps. A whole week and a few days later the smell of it still lingers in her nose. She doesn’t get how anyone could’ve missed it, which seems to be the collective question. How didn’t you know? It only took the patrol a few hours to come across it, after all. There’s a women’s camp down the road — a trembling voice and a hard swallow.

She didn’t know what to say. Didn’t think there was anything she could say.

She didn’t see Joe much in the days that followed, preoccupied with helping where she could until the Hospital unit could be pulled up. She could really only imagine how he was taking it. They moved again before she could catch him.

Washing her hands didn’t do much when the discomfort was embedded beneath her skin.

She simply knew she had to see Joe. To be there, in some way. That’s what a friend would do, and he’d been there for her when he couldn’t make heads or tails of what she was going through, how she was feeling.

She gathers from a handful of people that he’s on watch — which was more like her inquiring to a handful of men she immediately clocked as replacements saying it so flippantly that it rubs her the wrong way. She can only assume that they haven’t seen it, because they seemed especially pissed over his “bad mood.” And if she weren’t so occupied with actually seeing him — she would’ve given them the verbal lashing herself. But Daisy didn’t care about them. She cares about Joe.

Joe, who, when she finds him, is just where they said he’d be: on lookout, sidled up at the outpost of sandbags and staring down the sights of the machine gun all alone. Daisy doesn’t announce herself, but she does lift her hand to let him know she’s there. She doesn’t miss the way he glances at her through his peripheral vision, which is more like an irritated side eye than it is neutral acknowledgement.

“Save the sage advice, Dais, I don’t wanna fuckin’ hear it.” His words are sharp, he barely gives her a second glance. She instead slips into the post silently, and that’s when he gives her a side glance and a weird look.

“Alright,” she agrees, but her acknowledgement doesn’t bring him any solace — because he continues.

“M’not gonna fucking calm down.”

“That’s fine.”

“And I don’t give a shit if that bothers you.”

“That’s fine.” Joe turns his head, giving her a narrow-eyed look. Daisy sits down, slumping against the wall, looking right back at him. His eyes look her up, and down, then up again — like he’s only just now realizing she really isn’t there to put a leash on him.

“Th’hell do you want, then?”

“I didn’t want you to be alone,” she states plainly, offering little more than a shrug as he looks down the sights of the machine gun. “Besides, it’s been quiet.”

Quiet. The word hangs heavy in the air, Joe doesn’t give her some dry remark or otherwise indicates that he doesn’t want her around. If he told her to fuck off, she’d do that — if he told her to stay, then she’d do that. But she wouldn’t get cross with him for being upset.

She couldn’t even imagine what this was all like for him, so who was she to tell him how to feel?

They’re quiet for a solid five minutes, broken up only by the occasional breeze.

“I had to tell them all to go back in there,” Joe says. Daisy looks at him, saying nothing. “At the men’s camp. Major Winters made me do it.” Silence again, Daisy pulls her knees into her chest.

“That’s fucked up,” is what she offers, continuing to look at him. His grip tightens.

“Think so?” he grunts out, clearly being rhetorical. “Nothin’ about it being necessary or some bullshit words of wisdom like that?”

“I already told you that’s not why I’m here, so no,” Daisy reminds him. Joe’s exhale is sharp as he lets go of his grip, shifts in his spot until he’s sat beside her, legs outstretched, thigh against her foot and head resting against the wall of sandbags behind them. His eyes shut in time with the clench of his jaw.

“I am so fucking tired of being told to calm down,” he seethes, “Glad a week’s enough time to get the fuck over it for the rest of ‘em. What kind of shit is that?” He keeps going, his words like water built up behind a cracking dam finally able to flood a riverbank. It all comes out and even when he pauses every now and again, Daisy says nothing.

She’ll dig along the bank to accommodate, but she won’t tell him to reel it in.

Joe’s always known exactly how he feels about things — found a way to phrase it even if it wasn’t the most eloquent thing in the world. It didn’t have to be eloquent. He didn’t owe anybody that. He’s mad and people are telling him to calm down because… they made the citizens clean up and they enacted martial law. Done, signed, sealed, delivered; and maybe for some that was enough, but no one gets to tell Joe when he has to get over it.

And if she feels helpless, with hands that were trained to help in a situation like this, she can only imagine how he’s feeling.

His eyes are glassy, and he’s stumbling over his words a little more, but Daisy still doesn’t speak, lending him her ear and a little more than that.

Her hand goes to his back, fingers splaying out between the middle of his shoulder blades before sliding around him — and she brings him toward her, until his head is in the space between her neck and shoulder and his lashes brush against her skin. This is what I’m here for, her thumb rubs a circle into his shoulder. She doesn’t say anything when his shoulders begin to shake, a tremor that wracks his body. She just holds him tighter. Even if we can’t do anything else — we can do this.

When his nails dig into her a little too hard, she doesn’t flinch away. He cries and leans half his weight on her and Daisy does her damndest to hold herself up and keep him close, eyes shutting as she envelopes him as much as she can.

She’ll hold him until he doesn’t need it anymore and if that moment never comes — that’s okay too.

#fic // sad beautiful tragic #ronald speirs x oc #ronald speirs x ofc #band of brothers oc #band of brothers fic #hbo war fic #hbo war oc #hbo war ofc

[brassknucklespeirs]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɴɢᴇʟ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ

Ronald Speirs x OC

Vienna Matthews was a dead woman walking. A soul who had faced the fact that she was never going to go back to living her normal life. She had given up on the hopes and dreams she had as a child, putting down the hairbrush and expensive lipstick her daddy bought her and exchanging them for an M1 Garand and a pack of lucky strikes. Oh to have been brutally pulled into a war she never wanted to fight, and yet going into it with the idea that she would never come back.

ᴏʀ

In which Vienna Matthews refuses to part from the trauma hardened alter-ego known as ‘Venom’ for anyone but him

Warning: Mentions and detailed depiction of war, blood, abuse, mental illness, trauma etc (each chapter will have its own warning added to ensure awareness has been given)

This is a fiction story written and based around the actors’ portrayals in the HBO series Band of Brothers and is not in any way meant to offend or disrespect those real men who bravely fought in WWII

“I didn’t do it for me, I wasn’t scared or worried of rejection so don’t get that all twisted. Cause God knows I practically grabbed you by the shoulders and told you to make me yours on multiple occasions. But I didn’t say anything more because of you.” Vienna mumbled, her voice quiet and tentative in comparison to the usually confident, power-house of a voice that would usually leave her mouth.

“Because of me?” The captain replied, confusion evident in both his tone and the expression on his face, brows pulled low over his deepening gaze. She took a quick glance at him, the feeling of her own confusion sparking in her belly causing a wave of nervousness to rush over her. Every feeling that coursed through her veins felt new and she realised too late that they had come to confront her, as if they were banging harshly on the doors of her quickly weakening mind. 

“I had no intention of coming home from this war Ron. And to confess to you that I was just as stupidly in love with you as I know you are with me would have been the most selfish thing i could have done.” His eyes had watched her lips as she spoke to him, oh so distracting as he tried his best to focus on the forming sentences that spilled from them. He licked his own as he processed what she said, and it would seem his eyebrows could tug even further over his eyes while he huffed in frustration.

“I don’t see how that was your decision to make.” The man spoke strongly and if she had been any other woman, she might have flinched at the way each syllable hissed from behind his teeth. Vienna reactively let out a humourless laugh to cover her growing discomfort at the reality of having to continue this conversation; there was no way out of this now.

“Well it certainly wasn’t yours because i didn’t give you the option. And i’m not sorry for that.” She tried to suppress the urge to let her hands tremble, instead opting to run her fingers through the tangle locks of dark hair on her head. A sigh left the woman’s lips as she watched him eye her wearily, making it clear he unsure of how to respond to the words dripping from her lips. “To tell you the truth though Ron, I may have come into this war as an already dead woman but i’ve never been more alive than I am right now, with you.”

coming soon....

#ronald speirs x oc #band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #ronald speirs

[mccall-muffin]

The things you don't know - Part 3 // Carwood Lipton x OC

Summary: How can one dance change everything? Well, Tori has to ask this herself, and as she becomes more aware of her feelings, something happens that wasn't supposed to happen...

Warnings: Language, Insecurities

Taglist: @liebgotts-lovergirl, @softguarnere, @lieutenant-speirs, @thecherry7

Lip looked at Tori in surprise. She stood in front of him, looked at him as well, and held her hand to him. Uncertainly, he stood up and took her hand to lead her to the dance floor. Her hand was warm in his, and Lip had to restrain himself from stroking her soft skin.

Lip took Tori's right hand and then put his other hand on her back to pull hercloser to him. There were already many couples dancing n the floor, which didn't bother Tori because they were less conspicuous that way. Which didn't matter anyway, because her friends from Easy Company were in the front row watching them anyway.

Lip begins to lead her and move them both to the beat of the music. Tori was surprised because it seemed Lip wasn't a bad dancer. No, in fact, he was perfect. "What?" Lip asked, snapping her out of her thoughts. She looked up at him. "Huh?" "What are you thinking about?" he asked, looking down at Tori. "I uh... I just thought that you're a good dancer." "And that surprises you because?" Tori noticed herself blushing. "Well... I - I've never actually seen you dance before. I don't know why it surprises me."

Lip eyed Tori for a moment. He noticed a few freckles on her nose and cheeks, but something looked familiar. He couldn't put his finger on what it was, but it seemed like he'd seen those eyes before. "It always depends on the partner." Tori looked up and into Lip's eyes. She was trying to understand what exactly he meant by that.

He just looked back, and something happened between them in that moment. Tori couldn't tell what it was, but it flashed through her like a lightning bolt, causing her to pause in her movement. Where Lip touched her, her skin suddenly became hot. "The - the right partner?" she asked in a shaky voice. Lip seemed to consider for a moment. "Well, when you find the right partner, every dance just dances itself," he explained, and Tori was still looking at him. "That's what my mother used to tell me, and I believed her. I still do. When you find the right partner for life, everything works itself out."

Tori was surprised that she was sharing that exact feeling with him right now. That it was just easy and went by itself. Her feet seemed to move through the room on their own. Tori had never had this feeling until now.

"That's a very nice theory."

Again, the two looked at each other. In Tori's stomach, it was like a swarm of butterflies had been released. Lip smiled wryly, then nodded in agreement.

"Have you found your partner yet?" asked Tori, still nervous, mostly because she was kind of afraid of the answer. What if she now fell in love with this charming, handsome, courteous sergeant, and he ended up having a wife at home?

Tori noticed that Lip's movements slowed down, but he still looked at her intensely and seemed to lose himself in her eyes. Lip's face came closer and he pulled her a little closer to him. Would he kiss her now? "Maybe - maybe I h, and he pulled her closer began to beat faster.

"Okay, lovebirds, the dance is accepted," Malarkey then interfered, however, and put a hand on Tori's shoulder, as well as Lip's, and pushed them apart. Only now did Tori realize that the song had ended. She looked at Lip, slightly embarrassed, who pressed his lips together and looked at Malarkey before nodding. Then he looked at Tori again. "Thank you for the dance, Victoria. Here's to a next time," he said, then walked over to the others in the corner and sat down on the backmost chair.

Tori looked after him, slightly confused, but then her attention was drawn to Malarkey, who had put an arm around her shoulders. "Well, how about it, Vic? Do we dare to dance too?" He winked at her, and Tori had to laugh before she nodded.

Tori ended up dancing with some of her new friends, but with none of them, it was as easy and enjoyable as with Lip. The blonde also kept catching herself looking for the handsome sergeant with her gaze. Once or twice she even caught him looking at her as well.

"You like her," his good friend Walter Gordon snapped Lip out of his thoughts. He tore his gaze away from Tori and looked at Smokey, frowning. "What?" he asked, confused, but Smokey still grinned at him. "McNeil. You like her," the latter repeated himself and took a sip of his beer. "What makes you think that Smokey?" was all Lip asked, hoping he wasn't being too obvious.

Smokey raised his eyebrows and looked at Lip. "Seriously? Oh, Lip... You've never danced with a girl until now, and then she shows up. And I mean your dance, phew..." "That was her win in poker, I already told you that," Lip tried to justify himself. Smokey nodded with a grin. "Yeah, right... You looked like you loathed dancing with her. Just like your languorous looks in her direction since you've been sitting here."

Lip closed his eyes for a moment. "Hey, who cares if you like her? You see her every day. You couldn't have it better," Smokey lit a smoke. "I don't see it that way, Smoke. I see her every day, yes, but nothing should ever happen. You know the rule about fraternizing." "Ha!" exclaimed Smokey, pounding the table. "So you admit you like her." Lip rolled his eyes. Now he had given himself away. Smokey leaned across the table. "Lip... Look at her. She won't be alone for long. You know that as well as I do. I overheard Liebgott and Malarkey talking about it already. So, court her without courting her. You're smart. I'm sure you can work it out. And as for fraternizing... What the officers don't know, they don't have to learn."

Now Lip looked at his friend reprovingly. "I'm a sergeant, Smoke. My job is to make sure my people follow rules like this, not to break them myself." Smokey looked again briefly at Tori and then back at Lip. "I'm just saying that you need to be aware that if you don't act quickly, she'll be gone before you know it." He pointed his head in Tori's direction, and Lip looked at her as well. She was currently dancing with Liebgott, and the look the dark-haired man was giving her did not please Lip at all.

Over the next few weeks, Smokey's words became more apparent to Lip. Many men were flirting with Tori, though most were not entirely serious about it. But Lip was disturbed by every single one of these pictures. It pleased him, of course, that she wasn't so alone now and was making some friends among the men. Up front were Skinny, Liebgott and Alley. In addition, there was the soldier from Fox Company, of whom Lip knew by now that the two had known each other already from before.

What raised the most questions for him, however, was the fact that he kept finding her with Lieutenant Speirs from Baker Company. It was clear that the two did not want to be seen together, Lip realized immediately, and likewise he was immediately aware that there was a certain familiarity between them.

After a short research, Lip discovered that Speirs is also from Boston. The same place as Tori, which immediately led him to the conclusion that the two probably had a romantic relationship. What else would the familiar looks and little touches mean?

"Where are you with your thoughts, Lip?" asked Smokey as they stood in front of the barracks. "Huh?" asked Lip, looking up at his friend. "You're kind of far away. What are you thinking about?" Lip lowered his head. "Not that important," he waved it off. "Are you thinking about her again? Damn it, Lip; I told you to be quick if you wanted her." "It's not that simple, Smoke. And besides, by now, I think she already has someone."

Together, the two looked at the group around Tori, sitting on the steps outside her barracks, talking.

"I don't know, you think?" asked Smokey, lighting a smoke. Lip nodded slowly. "Something tells me McNeil already has a man in her life."

On the stairs, Tori just laughed at something Malarkey had said. "Well, guys, how about it? Are you guys ready for jump training?" she asked the group, and they all nodded. "It's definitely going to be interesting with our CO," Joe said, looking at all of us. "At least he's gotten a little off your back since you transferred to Medics, Vic," Alley added, and Vic smiled before looking at Skinny. "Yeah, but that's only because he doesn't have the opportunity anymore."

"Son of a fucking bitch!" cursed Tori as she tried to cut a bandage, but her scissors somehow weren't sharp enough, so there was more of a massacre than anything else.

"Nice vocabulary, sailor. Are you sure you wouldn't have been better off joining the Navy? With that mouth of yours, you'd have fit in just fine." Gene laughed beside her, looking over her shoulder. "You definitely need a new pair of scissors; it won't work that way."

"Um, guys?" the two heard a voice from the doorway. When Gene and Tori looked up, Skinny was standing at the door. At first glance, they couldn't see anything, but then Tori saw that Skinny's entire sleeve was bleeding.

"Jesus, Skinny. What happened to you?" she asked, pointing to the cot they had set up in the medical center. Gene, too, saw Skinny's arm now and motioned for him to take off his jacket.

"Well then, here you have your first living test subject, " Gene said, pointing to their instruments. "What?" asked Tori uncertainly. "Fix him up. You can do this, Victoria. You need to get used to patching up people you know." Tori took a deep breath, then looked at Skinny, whose lips pressed together. A long cut was emblazoned on his forearm, bleeding slightly.

Tori took a deep breath before bringing disinfectant and bandages over to Skinny. Of course, Gene looked closely over her shoulder to help if needed.

"So, what happened?" she asked her friend. Skinny raised her eyebrows and looked at Tori, slightly embarrassed. "Well... We had to crawl through a field of mud and guts today. This was covered with barbed wire, and I got stuck," he explained, and Tori smirked slightly.

Then she set about cleaning the wound and disinfecting it. Skinny watched Tori closely as she did so. He studied her face, which was not too far from his, her light freckles spreading on her nose, the long eyelashes and the full lips. Then he breathed in her scent. The scent of a fresh flower meadow and her smell was breathtaking.

When Skinny looked up, he noticed that Doc Roe was watching him. The latter raised an eyebrow and smirked as he gave Skinny a knowing look. Skinny's face immediately turned red as a tomato, and he hoped Tori didn't notice. Of course, Gene could interpret the soldier's look right away, for he possessed an excellent knowledge of human nature and that Sisk felt a bit more than friendship for the female Medic was as clear as day to him.

Unfortunately, he could not say the same about his female colleague. Gene was quieter and good at observing and reading other people. Thus, he did not miss the looks Tori gave her sergeant when she thought no one noticed.

Now Gene felt sorry for Sisk. The poor sap. Hopefully, he got over the fact that she only thought of him as a friend and nothing more.

"There, done," Tori said with satisfaction as she looked at her handiwork. Gene looked over it briefly, too, and gave her a satisfied look. "That's good. Seems you're a natural," Gene said, and Tori grinned. "And you just realize that now?" she asked, amused.

Then she turned to Skinny. "Well then, you're good to go, Skinny." Skinny smiled at her slightly shyly. "Thanks, Vic," he thanked her, then looked uncertainly at Doc for a moment. "Um, Vic? I was wondering - would you like to see the movie tonight?" he asked, and Tori looked at him briefly. "Movie?" "They're showing this movie tonight with Katharine Hepburn."

Tori thought for a moment. "Um, yeah, sure, why not?" she said with a smile and Skinny's face brightened. "Are you coming too?" she asked, turning to Gene. Gene bit his lips awkwardly, knowing full well that Sisk had actually wanted to invite Tori alone.

"Um, I... Not today. You guys just enjoy the movie," he stammered, somehow trying to help Sisk, who looked at him gratefully.

"Well then," Tori said, smiling at Skinny. "I guess it's just the two of us, then." Skinny nodded with a smile before leaving the medical station.

As Tori walked toward her barracks after her shift, someone hissed at her from behind a corner. She looked around and immediately spotted Ron, who motioned with his head for her to follow.

She looked around briefly and then followed her brother.

He led her to a corner of the camp where no one saw her and then turned to her before giving her a quick hug. "How are you, Tori?" he asked, and she smiled at him. "Oh, all good. I'm mostly away from Sobel, so..." Ron nodded, then looked down at his feet.

"What's wrong?" asked Tori of her brother, concerned. "Two things," he began, "One, I got transferred. To Dog Company." "What, that means - that means we're now in the same..." "Battalion, yes. Which means we have to be more careful, okay? If Sink catches on, you or I will be gone very quickly. And unfortunately, I strongly suspect it's you."

"It's a wonder you don't tell him directly then," Tori muttered under her breath, which made Ron roll his eyes. "Come on, that's not fair. I've come to terms with the fact that you're here now, and I'm sticking to that. Besides, I've seen your progress, and I must admit you've really got it, kid." Tori laughed, slightly annoyed, slightly grateful.

"And the second?"

Now Ron bit his lips. "Dad knows." "What?" she exclaimed. "He knows you're here." "What, why? How?" asked Tori, getting nervous. Ron might have come to terms with the fact that she was here, but her father? "Mother was blabbing. Don't worry; I've calmed him down for now, but you'll be in for something when you get home." "Fuck!"

Ron took her hand in his and squeezed it. "Don't worry, I'll try to take some of his anger away," Ron said, and just as he was about to continue speaking, a person came around the corner and faltered at sight.

It was Lip. And what he saw was Tori, along with the lieutenant new from Dog Company, standing together in a dark hallway and him holding her hand. Panic spread through Tori.

Lip said nothing but stared at the two of them for a moment before turning and walking away. "Sorry, I have to..." said Tori quickly, and Ron nodded. "Go!"

As quickly as she could, she followed her sergeant. "Lip!" she called after him. He paused in his movement and then slowly turned to face her. "Yeah?" he asked, eyeing Tori briefly. "That thing you just saw-" she began, but he shook his head and immediately interrupted her. "Don't worry; I'm not going to report it. I-it's none of my business what you do on your own time."

"No, wait, it's not like that. Ron and I, we're not together. He's-" she was about to say when Sobel approached her. "Sergeant Lipton, Corporal McNeil," he roared, and the two immediately stood at attention. "Sir," Lipton said quickly.

"What are you two doing here?" he asked, looking sceptically back and forth between Lip and Tori. "I was just on my daily walk-through to see if everything was up to code, sir," Lipton said, and Sobel's gaze fell on Tori. "And what's your excuse, Corporal?" Tori swallowed and became nervous. "I uh-" she stammered. "You what?" immediately echoed Sobel, but then Lip cleared his throat. "The corporal accompanied me, sir; you see more with four eyes."

Surprised, Tori looked at Lip. Sobel eyed Lip and ground his jaw, clearly not satisfied that he couldn't hand out punishment.

"Now then. Sergeant Lipton, report to First Sergeant Evans immediately with the report." Lipton saluted Sobel before hurrying away. Sobel's gaze fell on Tori again. He looked at her for a moment, but Tori could not interpret his gaze, which now travelled all over her body. Tori grew more and more uncomfortable the longer she stood there.

"Dismissed, Corporal," Sobel said, and Tori was rarely in her barracks as quickly as she was now.

#Band of Brothers #Carwood Lipton x OC #Carwood Lipton #Band of Brothers fanfic #bobedit #hbo war #hbo series #Ronald Speirs #Ron Speirs #Joe Liebgott #Smokey Gordon #Herbert Sobel #Eugene Roe #Skinny Sisk

[caseadilla111]

speirs x oc pt ii

a/n : hi again, here is part ii of the Speirs story I've been working on. I know its been slow but promise after this, it will be picking up (and may get a bit smutty) :)

*disclaimer: this story is about Speirs as a FICTIONAL character, not the real man himself. any personal back story is fictional besides his place of birth, age, and war history (only WWII). This is NOT a fan fiction of Ronald Speirs, the real veteran war hero. This is based on Matthew Settle's portrayal in Band of Brothers.*

oOoOoOoOo

“Hello?” A sing-song voice chimed on the other end of the telephone into Ron’s ears, in the back ground he could hear the shrill of children squealing and laughing, their feet pattering about on what he could only assume was the hardwood floors. “Hello Miss, my name is Ronald, I had the pleasure of meeting a Maggie last night and she gave me this number to call, she wouldn’t happen to be there would she?” He heard the woman on the other end shush one of the children who was badgering her relentlessly. “I’m sorry hun, what was that?”Ron could feel the blood rush to his face in embarrassment. He was not about to repeat himself; it was hard enough to finish dialing this number to make the call in the first place. “May I speak to Maggie if she’s in? It’s Ron, from last night.” “Oh yes, yes, one moment.” The woman shouted for Maggie to come to the phone, muttering that it was a man asking for her before changing her tone to a playful one, probably addressing one of the kids in the background.

“Hello?” Maggie’s sweet voice rang through and blessed Ron’s ears. A smile crept across his face briefly. Before speaking, he cleared his throat awkwardly, almost as if were an attempt to bring up eloquent words to impress her, wooing her over the telephone line with sweet nothings. Instead, a very casual yet choppy conversation emerged. “Hi, it’s uh, Ron, from McCullough’s”. “Oh, hi Ron! How are you?” “I’m good, great. Yeah.” There was a pause for a moment, Ron panicked slightly before continuing, anxious about what her answer may be. “I was wondering maybe I could take you out today, say 2’o’clock? I’ll get you home before supper.” He waited for her answer, the kids in the background still rambunctious but a bit further away now.

“Oh Ron, I’d love that. What did you have in mind?” Maggie’s voice sounded chipper on the other end and Ron couldn’t help but smile again. “There’s a park nearby, I like to take walks through it. Maybe we could go for a stroll and talk.” “Well, that sounds splendid, I’ll see you at 2 then. My address is 593 Haymaker Street, it’s the blue house on the corner.” “Got it. See you at 2, Maggie.” Ron placed his phone onto the receiver and exhaled deeply, it felt as if he were holding his breath that whole phone call. He was not an insecure man, but he had always been fairly skittish around women. And being away from women for a good chunk of time during the war certainly didn’t do him any favors socially. He was rough, harsh, brash, and blunt. He had to learn to soften himself, to have manners, to not curse as much as he used to when in the presence of a lady. Hopefully he can have another successful repeat of the night before with Maggie on their walk, the never-ending banter between the two replayed through his mind as he went to sleep, and he could only hope for it to continue this time around.

Ron picked a few wildflowers from the side of the road while on his way to Maggie’s home, surprisingly she didn’t live too far from him. The flowers sat on the passenger seat of his Studebaker, the top was off and the summer breeze rushing over head was causing the wild flora to tremble against the leather. Ron caught a glimpse of himself in his mirror before hopping out of the car to go to the door of Maggie’s home, he smoothed the sides of his hair and exhaled sharply, grabbing the flower bunch, and marched up the driveway. He could hear the children inside the blue house squealing again as he got closer to the door and before he could knock, it flew open. A small tike looked up at Ron as he towered over him and smiled. “Hi.” The boy greeted Ron with a smile and shoved a finger through the hole left by a missing tooth. “Hey there.” Ron greeted him back and laughed a bit to himself.

“Tom!” Maggie came up from behind the young boy and ushered him away from the door, embarrassed slightly of the unusual doorman greeting her date. “I’m so sorry. Come in!” She grabbed Ron’s hand and lured him through the doorway. The living room was rambunctious and lively with four youngsters running amuck, toys were strewn across the floor, and he could see the dining table was being set for their lunch by whom he can only assume is Maggie’s mother. Ron stood there in the entry way awkwardly, not entirely sure what to say next, when he remembered he had the flowers for Maggie in his hands. “These are for you.” He handed the array of wildflowers to her and watched as her face brighten at the sight. “Oh Ron, these are beautiful, thank you!” She placed her hand on his and stood on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek.

Maggie hurried to the kitchen to get a vase, dragging her mother out with her to introduce the two of them. “Ma, this is Ron. Ron, my mother Jane.” And with that, she left the two of them for a moment to go place the vase of wildflowers on the dining table. “Pleasure to meet you ma’am.” Ron extended a hand to Jane, which she took, her small worn aged hand dwarfed in his. The small older woman sized up the man in her entry way, looking him up and down with squinted eyes. “Make sure she’s home when you say Ron, take care of my girl.” “Of course, ma’am.” “Ma, this isn’t a marriage proposal, ease up, won’t you?” Maggie called out from the living room now as she ushered the four children into the dining room so they could eat their lunch. Ron and her mother stood uncomfortably in the doorway, Jane quietly judging him in her own way as they waited for Maggie to join them so they could finally leave.

“Sorry about the gauntlet back there.” Maggie shyly apologized as Ron opened the car door for her to get in. He looked back and saw Jane standing in the open doorway, watching them like a hawk as they loaded into his car. He laughed to himself and shut the door before making his way to the driver side. “I’ve been through worse, no worries.” He backed out of the driveway and they two of them made their way to the park Ron is a regular at when he isn’t sitting at McCullough’s, pondering the half empty high ball glass in front of him.

Once they arrived, Ron pulled out a small basket with some food and a blanket that certainly wasn’t made for picnics but was conveniently stashed in the trunk of his car in case of emergencies. “What’s this?” Maggie looked inquisitively at the basket in his hand as he let her out of his car. “Lunch,” Ron stated as a matter of fact before continuing, “what’s a date without a meal?” He took her hand, and they started off down the path of the park, the one that Ron ran often in the mornings, a habit he carried with him after leaving the service. It was a natural form of therapy for him, and it kept him sharp both physically and mentally.

The two strode side by side and chatted for nearly an hour straight, laughing here and there and quizzing each other about who they were, the conversation flowed so freely between them. Ron learned that Maggie was short for Magdalene, she was the youngest of three children, the youngsters that were ransacking her home were her brother’s kids and her mother typically watches them while their parents are working. Maggie learned that Ron was from Boston and moved further away from the city to embrace a quieter life, he didn’t talk much about his past, but he spoke briefly of his present. Ron was working as a freelance carpenter, picking up jobs here and there, building sheds and repairing roofs for those in the community. He shared that he actually purchased his home a year or two ago and was finishing up he renovations. “It was practically a shell of a house when I got it. But I saw it’s potential.” He smirked, impressed by himself. “The back yard was what got me, and the view of the creek in the back.” “That sounds beautiful Ron, I can only imagine.” “You’ll love it.” He looked down at her with that same smirk and he put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her in closer to his side while she snaked her arms around his waist.

When they found a private spot, Ron laid out the blanket and handed Maggie the basket of food to take. She pulled out two sandwiches, neatly wrapped in butcher paper, along with a jar that had sliced strawberries and grapes. “Wow, Ron, you’re quite the chef.” Maggie teased and Ron grinned toward her. “I’ve taking lessons from Julia Childs.” He teased back and took a bite of his sandwich. The two enjoyed the view of the pond sprawled out in front of them, long blades of grass guarded the shore, and the glassy surface of the water rippled every so often when a dragonfly zipped overhead. They sat beneath a cherry cheer, the leaves shading them from the sun and creating a bit of shelter from any prying eyes of the passersby strolling through the park.

Ron was always a romantic. Sure, he was a bit out of practice seeing that he spent a majority of his prime years surrounded by pent up, dirty, angsty men so he wasn’t able to embrace that side of himself, but now that was all behind him, he finally could. He was always conscious of the subtle ways to woo a lady. His mother told him that the key to a woman’s heart was through the little things. So, Ron used to bring his mother home flowers as a boy that he’d pick on his walks home from school or the park or a friend’s home. When he started dating, he did the same for the girl he was taking out at the time. He always held the door for his dates, always pulled out their chairs for them, and he never pushed the affection on them if they weren’t ready. Ron was a respectful man, that was one thing that never changed after he returned from the war.

#ron speirs #ronald speirs #band of brothers #softy speirs #ron speirs x oc #speirs x oc

[bellewintersroe]

Band of brothers masterlist 🤍🩷🤍

Finally! Here’s some direct links to my work so far :)

All boys: general hc’s:

Platonic BoB x reader - angst. Easy boys reacting to seeing their lady lieutenant for the first time. Easy boys x reader how they react to accidentally upsetting you.

Easy boys x reader the morning after their first time. Easy boys x reader the morning after their first time, part 2.

Easy boys x reader in Bastogne.

Easy boys x nurse headcannons p1. Easy boys x nurse headcanons p2.

Easy boys x nurse headcannons p3. Easy’s reaction to nurse reader getting hurt.

Easy boys x nurse how they react to you finding them hurt. Easy boys x reader enemies to lovers.

Easy boys x reader they see you dressed up for the first time. Easy boys x reader they see your scars for the first time. Easy boys x nurse how they react to you having fun in the water.

Easy boys x reader they take care of your baby alone for the first time.

Easy boys x reader how they react to you going MIA.

Part 2.

Easy boys x reader how they comfort you when you’re overworked

Ron Speirs:

Protective Ron Speirs x reader. Snowy Days, Ron x reader.

British girl x Ron headcanons - Ron being in a relationship with a girl from Britain.

Ron Speirs x nurse! OC multiple part smut - when celebrations reach a high in the eagles nest, who knew their hook up would be more than a one time thing?

Part 1.

Part 2.

Part 3.

Part 4.

Part 5.

Part 6.

Part 7.

Ron Speirs x ArmyNurse! OC mini series - Margaret ‘Maggie’ Emerson, an army nurse attached to the 506th parachute infantry regiment, finds herself growing closer to her company’s captain, Ronald Speirs. With war drawing to an end, a side to the mystery that is Captain Speirs is revealed. Both Maggie and Ron have a difficult time resisting their attraction to one another.

Part 1.

Part 2.

Joe Liebgott:

Joe Liebgott x reader x Talbert smut. - you, joe and Floyd have some fun on New Year’s Eve in a foxhole. Joe x reader x Talbert smut p2- Joe and Floyd finally give you what you’ve been waiting for…

Untitled Joe Liebgott x reader Drabble. Joe Liebgott x reader angst- the two times Joe doesn’t want to see you and the one time he does.

Joe x reader x Shifty - a request for how Joe would react when he’s in love with you but you’re with Shifty.

Gene and Liebgott Headcannons - when they think they’ve lost you for good but then you reunite with them days later, worse for wear.

Babe Heffron:

Babe Heffron x oc smut- Babe and OC spend some well deserved time together.

Eugene Roe:

Quiet Confessions, Eugene x reader smut - as the title described, quiet confessions between Gene and reader. Sympathy for the Enemy, Gene x oc - oc struggles with hating the enemy, especially when some of them are just boys. Gene comforts her when the inevitable happens. Vocal Gene x reader smut- Requested by a reader! Gene is obsessed with you and expresses this through being vocal in the bedroom… Friends to Lovers, Eugene x reader smut - you and Gene are friends for the longest time until one night that changes with a steamy exchange whilst walking home…

Gene x reader headcanons - just some headcanons on how your friendship turns into a relationship throughout the time during the war you spend together.

Gene and Liebgott Headcannons - when they think they’ve lost you for good but then you reunite with them days later, worse for wear.

Floyd Talbert:

Floyd x reader smut - Floyd and your tension reaches a boiling point after two years together. Liebgott x reader x Talbert smut - threesome.

Liebgott x reader x Talbert smut p2. - threesome continued!

Talbert + Christenson headcanons.

James ‘Moe’ Alley:

Alley x oc was nurse! Jenny. Headcanons of their developing relationship throughout the war.

part 1. part 2. part 3. part 4. part 5.

Skip Muck:

Skip x reader - mutual pinining - friends to lovers arc. Lewis Nixon:

One night stand, Nixon X Reader - after a long night of boozing you and Captain Nixon wake up besides each other, shocked by your actions of the night before.

Chuck Grant:

Chuck x nurse reader headcanons.

Chuck Grant x reader smut.

Alton More:

More x nurse reader headcanons. Shifty Powers:

Joe x reader x Shifty - a request for how Joe would react to being in love with you but you’re with Shifty. Pat Christenson:

Christenson x reader fluff - pat comforts you after Grant is wounded. Christenson + Talbert headcanons.

Dick Winters:

Dick x reader headcanons - on how Dick steals Sobel’s gf.

#Band of brothers masterlist #Band of brothers imagines #Band of brothers x reader #band of brothers headcannons #ron speirs #Joe liebgott #floyd Talbert #skip muck #Eugene Roe #Babe Heffron #james moe alley #Shifty powers #pat christenson