#ronald spiers imagine

[typical-simplelove]

Hidden Words (R. Spiers)

Summary: Ron comes home from the war, wanting quiet and solitude, but when a friend from his childhood saves him when he needs it, a new friendship is formed. What happens when the lines are blurred and demands are made? Can Ron recognize he can have peace and quiet amidst the noise?

Author's Note: This is my Secret Santa fic for @latibvles. Thank you for bearing with me, and I'm sorry this took a moment. Between the end of the semester and the jump right into the family and holiday stuff, I've barely had time to breathe. Nonetheless, here it is, and I hope you like it!

Warnings: implied!female reader; mentions of the war (canon typical); mentions of having/wanting children in the future;

Word Count: 6.9k

Ever since he returned home, his mother continuously tried to step him up on a date. She didn’t understand that he didn’t want that; no part of him was ready to date. For starters, how could he explain the things he’d seen—done—in the war to anyone, especially someone he should be spending the rest of his life with? 

Besides, he doesn’t think it’s worth it to spend all this time working on opening himself up and getting to know someone only for the relationship not to work out. There’s no point in trying to make something work when he knows it won’t.

But his mother wants grandkids, so he can’t say that to her. 

Since he came home from the war, it’s as if the entire world is dead-set on producing the next generation. While Ron sees no flaws in that, he doesn’t want to partake. It’s not that he doesn’t want kids; it’s the process of finding someone to have children with. The time and effort weren’t worth it to him if it could fall apart—either by war or personal faults. 

But his mother wants this for him, and he can never say no to his mother. 

Presently, Ron and his family are on their way to a block party, hosted by a couple of families down the road. He remembers the names—some of the people he grew up with. 

As they get closer, he starts to feel the anxiety building up. Everywhere he goes where people remember him from his childhood, they immediately begin to thank him for his service and want him to tell his stories. While he knows they have good intentions, he’s not always in the mood to talk about his experiences overseas, and sometimes, he would prefer to pretend they never happened. 

As expected, once they arrive at the small corner of the neighborhood where the party is being hosted, he’s surrounded by people who want to hear his stories and tales. There are so many voices, making different requests, that he isn’t able to pipe in and ask to have this conversation another time. 

He looks around for his mother, but she’s nowhere to be found. First, she drags him to this gathering; then, she leaves him alone. He shakes his head, frustrated. 

“Excuse me,” a voice pipes in from being Ron. “I need to borrow him for a moment.” 

Their hand intertwines with Ron and begins to pull him towards one of the houses. The moment is so hurried that he doesn’t have a chance to look at the person who’s dragging him away—his savior. 

He’s so shocked and confused that he doesn’t register to which house they’re heading towards. He doesn’t register the familiar steps of stairs or the familiar room he’s in or the recognizable bed he’s sat on. 

“Hi,” Ron says when he finally recognizes that you’re his savior, and you brought him up to your childhood room. “Long time no see.”

You snort. “Yeah, well, there was this war in Europe; did you know about that?” 

“Vaguely,” he replies, a small smile begging to be released. He can’t remember the last time he smiled. “Thanks for saving me.” 

You nod. “You look horrified, and as much as that amuses me, I figured today wasn’t the day to be bombarded.” 

Living just down the street from each other, your family and his family often interacted. For a while, your lives orbited around each other. There was nowhere you went where Ron didn’t follow closely behind. He was your shadow, just being happy to be around you, soaking in your aura and liveliness. 

He would spend hours of his days with you, and if he wasn’t with you, he was thinking about you or talking about you to anyone who would listen. 

By the time you both reached high school, your friendship wasn’t socially acceptable anymore, so you and Ron drifted. Anyone who knew Ron before high school would say that a part of him died or drifted away when you both stopped being friends. A chunk of his soul, personality, and heart was chiseled out, waiting to be put back when you returned. 

By the time Ron went off to war, you were pretty much strangers to each other. But, even if he didn’t know it, there were still parts of him that longed for you. 

Sitting on your childhood bed, looking at you as you organize all the guests’ belongings that were scattered around your room, small parts of the missing pieces of himself started to be pieced back together. 

“Are you okay?” you ask him, a curious and amused look in your eyes.

He nods. 

Deep down, he knew he wasn’t letting the friendship go again. 

. . .

“I didn’t have the chance to make anything, so I just went to the store,” Ron apologizes as he begins to take out food containers and lays them out on the picnic blanket. 

“You were going to cook? Wait, actually, you know how to cook?” 

He gives you a faint eye roll. “Yes, I’m not entirely helpless, by the way. But also, my mom has been trying to domesticate me in the event I decide to settle down. That’s been her post-war plan for me.” 

You nod, ignoring the small pitter-patter of your heart. What would it be like to live with a domesticated Ron?

Whoa, you’re not sure where those thoughts stem from, but as he opens up the containers and begins to make you a plate of your favorites, you couldn’t help but wonder. He took the initiative in planning this. He was never late, and if he was going to be late, he made sure to communicate it. He was always conscientious about your feelings and what you wanted to do. He was just—

Were your standards that low, or was Ron just genuinely that great? 

“What was it like?”

“What was what like?” Ron inquires in between bites. 

“The war, being overseas.” 

In a matter of seconds, Ron’s entire body tenses up, and you see the muscles in his neck tighten. “I would rather not talk about that.” 

You nod. “What about the people you served with?”

“Don’t,” Ron replies, sharp and pointed. 

“I shouldn’t have asked, sorry.” You wanted to know, but you understood why he wouldn’t want to share this information with you. It wasn’t an easy experience or an easy topic to discuss. But did that give him the right to be that rude and abrasive with you?

“I shouldn’t have responded the way I did, though, and I apologize for that.” 

“It’s okay,” you reply. 

A few minutes of awkward and heavy silence follows. The only sounds are the other families laughing and talking as they take in the nice weather. Now, you feel incredibly bad for bringing it up, but a part of you feels almost rejected. He doesn’t feel comfortable enough around you to open up. 

The only way you know to end this weirdness is to talk about stories from the people around you, so you dive into the stories of people in the neighborhood and work, throwing in little quips and jokes. It takes a minute for Ron’s icy exterior to melt, but soon, he’s laughing along with your jokes and making small comments here and there. 

Despite the way he’s interacting in the conversation, you can’t help but feel that he’s holding back from you, still. It’s almost as if he doesn’t feel at ease with you right now. 

But then he flashes you one of his brightest and rarest smiles and the way his eyes sparkle as he looks at you and the sunlight shrouding him in a glow sets your entire body on fire. He was always known for being guarded, so you shouldn’t be surprised he’s holding back from the difficult conversations with you. But he doesn’t smile like that for anyone, right? So that has to mean something. 

He means something to you. 

Yeah, you’re screwed. 

. . .

All he said was to come to dinner. You didn’t know what to expect, but all he said was to come to dinner, and no, you shouldn’t bring anything, despite your insistence. Just yourself, he said. 

Just yourself. 

Those words echoed in your mind for the days and the hours that passed between him asking you to come and you arriving at his doorstep. 

Just yourself.

Just yourself. 

Just yourself. 

You’re not someone who often reads into things, especially when it comes to things with romantic feelings involved. For the sake of self-preservation, you didn’t let yourself read into things, but with Ron, you couldn’t help yourself. With every interaction you have with him, you so badly want it to be more. 

Does Ron asking you to go to his mom’s house for family dinner mean something, or are you supposed to go only as friends? 

The spiraling and spinning thoughts don’t stop as Ron welcomes you into the house, takes your jacket, and you shrug off your shoes. Did his fingers linger on your shoulders for a brief moment? Did he hug you a little longer than necessary, than normal? Did he give you a small smile, his eyes twinkling with a purpose? Did he treat everyone else this way, or were you special? 

You so badly wanted to be special. 

As the night went on and you were reintroduced to Ron’s family that you remember from when you were growing up, you pretended not to recognize the curious and interesting looks they gave you and Ron. You ignored the way their eyes drifted to where his hand was guiding you on your back or the way his hands rested on your shoulders when he was introducing you to someone. You ignored their pointed looks as he whispered in your ears every now and then or the looks he gave you. 

No one wanted to say it or ask it, fearing the glare Ron would send them. 

As much as you wanted them to ask or say something, you didn’t want to know what he would say. You didn’t want your worst fears to be confirmed. 

“No,” Ron says, interrupting your thoughts as you make your way to the dinner table, finding a seat on one end of the table, not near where Ron was sitting. He rests his hands on your waist and guides you toward the other end of the table where he’s sitting next to his mom. 

“I can sit there.” 

“No.” 

“Ron—” 

“Don’t make me carry you over there. I want to sit next to you.” 

“Okay,” you reply softly, ignoring the pitter-patter of your heart with the meaning of his words. 

As the meal progresses, you’re sitting, chatting with the people around you, and you nearly jump out of your chair when Ron’s arm goes to rest along your shoulders. No way you can’t read into that, right? Ron’s not known for being a touchy person. That’s how it was growing up, but recently, with you, you can’t help but wonder if that reputation no longer exists for him—at least not with you. He was constantly trying to have some part of his body against yours, but was that something you could read into? 

Your thoughts are interrupted when one of Ron’s aunts calls your name from somewhere across from you. “Are you single?”

You nod, taken aback. “Waiting for the right person to come along.” 

“Well, if Ron isn’t going to do anything and give you an honest life, I have a few children and nieces and nephews who can and will.” 

“Um, thank you.” You’re not sure how to respond to Ron’s aunt, but you look toward the man in question, trying to see what his reaction will be. 

He gives you a small, courteous smile, a smile he never uses with you, a smile he only reserves for those he doesn’t want to talk to. He never uses that smile on you, but tonight, he did. “You can do whatever you want with your romantic life. We’re friends, right?”

Oh. 

“Right,” you reply, turning your head away from him and back to your plate. 

There goes that. 

The way you turned away from him made Ron’s heart drop. You’ve never turned away from him like that, so dejected. The normal fire and spirit you have with Ron disappeared. He watched the sparkle in your eyes die right there in from of him. But he doesn’t know where he went wrong. You’re allowed to do whatever you want; he will never try to control you. He was just telling his nosey aunt the truth. You’re friends, and you can date whomever you want—not that any of his cousins were good enough for you. 

The rest of the night continued, but a nagging feeling pulled at his heart as a deep pit opened in his stomach, and he had no idea where it came from. All he knows is that as he watched you help his mother with the dishes, the string on his heart pulled against him, warming his body in places he never knew possible. As he watched you do puzzles with his younger cousins, he couldn’t help the warm fuzzy feeling that he felt to the tips of his fingers. 

When you hugged him goodbye, he knew he never wanted to let you go. He wanted to hold you against his body forever—keeping you safe from the world. 

Ron couldn’t explain the agony in his body as he watched you walk to your car and drive away. 

Maybe he wouldn’t mind spending the rest of his life with you. He wouldn’t mind making his life for you. 

Well, what does that mean? 

. . . 

Ron’s mother was at her reading club for the night, so Ron invited you over for dinner. He promised a “home-cooked meal, don’t give me that face,” and it excited you. Despite your realized feelings for the man, you can’t help but want to spend your time with him. You know that nothing will ever come of your feelings for Ron, but you can’t stay away from your friend. The happiness it brings you is indescribable. 

But you have an exit plan when you feel yourself getting too much in your head (and delusional) around Ron. 

Setting boundaries, you promised yourself. That was the only way you’d be able to spend time around him and not go crazy, breaking your heart. 

As Ron welcomes you into his mother’s home, the smells from the kitchen hit your nose, and you’re instantly warm and fuzzy as if you’ve been wrapped in a warm blanket. Once your coat and shoes are off, Ron takes your hand and guides you toward the kitchen, giving you a soft smile as he watches you walk through his childhood home. 

You’ve been down this hallway, seeing all the pictures of little Ron, many, many times, but there’s something different about it now for Ron. There’s a new meaning and feeling to it for him. 

But he just chalks it up to being happy that it’s finally peacetime. That he can enjoy moments like these without the fear of being bombed or killed. The people and things most important to him are safe. 

“Penne-vodka,” Ron answers when you inquire about what you’re making. 

Your favorite, you think to yourself, trying to hide the toothy smile begging to be released. 

“Your favorite, right?” he asks, a small twinkle in the corner of his eyes. You give him a small nod, and Ron can’t help the triumphant, happy feeling deep in his chest. 

Ron turns back to the stove, stirring the pot, and you take the time to watch him cook. He’s different than high school, and as your eyes roam over his body, you’re appreciative of the changes his body has undertaken since graduating. The very good changes. 

“Have you talked to anyone from our graduating class since being back?” you ask after a few minutes of silence. 

“Not really,” he replies, short and to the point. “It’s not something I’m too keen on.” 

“Why’s that?” you question in between bites of bread.

He shrugs, ending the conversation there. 

Right, that’s Ron’s new thing. If he doesn’t want to talk about something, he’ll shut down. These conversations only happen on his time—which means never. While you understand that some topics may be too difficult for him to talk about, you wish it wasn’t so hard to talk with him. Often, you were the one who was starting the conversation, pretty much begging for Ron to say something. You knew he was engaged in the conversation because he maintained constant eye contact, laughed at your jokes, smiled at the appropriate times, and nodded when needed. But it felt like you were the only one who made an effort to talk. Sure, Ron was a quiet person, but there’s a difference between being a quiet person and letting the conversation be one-sided. 

Besides, it was you. If Ron couldn’t talk to you, then he couldn’t talk to anyone. Or was it that he wouldn’t talk? 

Why did it hurt you that Ron kept his words hidden and tucked away from you? You were supposed to be one of the people he trusted the most, so why couldn’t he untuck those words with you? 

As you help Ron set the table to eat, you recall the time a few weeks back when you went to Ron’s for a family dinner. You remember that he didn’t say anything really to his relatives. While that made you feel slightly better, it didn’t fully appease your feelings. At least you knew that it wasn’t just you that he held back with, but then again, it was you, and there was no change.  

As the meal continues, you put your confusion and doubts to the side. It didn’t matter his lack of talking or conversation because the safety, comfort, and warmth you felt around Ron significantly outweighed the talking issue. Even if you only got friendship out of him, you knew that you couldn’t go the rest of your life without the way he made you feel. 

He made you feel safe and loved (even if platonically), and that by far was one of the most important things to you about finding a partner—romantically or platonically. 

The rest of the night passed in quiet moments and short conversations, but it was never awkward. That’s how Ron was. There was no need to compensate for the lack of conversation because the quiet wasn’t awkward. It was secure and calm. It was the kind of quiet that came from years and years of learning and growing around the person you loved. 

Well, shit, you chose to ignore that. 

When it was about time for you to head home, you began to voice a goodbye, and Ron led you towards the front door where he helped you put on your coat. 

“Wait, hold on,” Ron says as you’re putting on your shoes. “I have something for you.” 

He quickly makes his back to the kitchen and comes back with a tray of food. You already had a large container filled with leftover Penne vodka, so you’re confused about what he was now handing you. 

“I made you mac and cheese,” he tells you softly, the cheeks and the tips of his ears tinged red. “You can either put it all in the oven at once, or heat up chunks separately. I don’t know why I told you that because I’m sure you know how to cook for yourself. Anyway, I’ll help you take it out to your car.” 

You can’t help the silly smile that takes over your face. You try to fight it, but the smile is there if Ron’s reddening face is any indication. You’ve wanted this boy to talk to you, and by the time you finally get him to say more than two sentences to you, he’s a stern, babbling, blushing mess. It was cute.

“Thank you, Ron,” you tell him, the smile heard in your voice. He nods and makes his way to put on his shoes and walk you to your car. 

With the food and leftovers securely placed in your backseat, you and Ron linger at the driver’s side door. You’re leaning against the car as Ron stands close to you, towering over both you and the car. His eyes are searching your face for any indication of what to do next. 

“Thank you for having me and cooking for me,” you finally say. You didn’t want to leave, but it was getting late, and his mother will be home soon. 

“You’re always welcome here,” he tells you, his eyes sincere and honest. You nod. Without thinking, you lean forward and briefly kiss Ron on his cheek, your lips burning when you pull away, but it’s not any comparison to the way his cheek burns around where you kissed him. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the way Ron’s hand stiffens into a fist as he processes what just happened. His breath is shaky and fast as you pull back, and his eyes are in a daze. 

This time, you’re able to hide your smile as Ron’s face turns crimson red. 

“I’ll see you soon,” you tell him, unlocking your car and getting ready to leave. “Good night.” 

Ron stands there in a daze as you drive away, too confused to move. He’s standing there, unsure of what just happened and why his body reacts the way it did. 

When his mother returns home almost twenty minutes later, Ron is still standing there. 

“Is everything okay?” she asks as she walks over to Ron. That seems to mostly pull him out of his daze. 

“She kissed me,” is all he says, and his mother smiles. 

“You’re a lucky guy.”

He nods. “Very lucky.” 

If only he could control his body temperature and heartbeat then maybe he’d be able to figure out what just happened. 

. . . 

“Do you remember Arden from middle school?” you prompt, your heart tugging at the meaning of your words. 

Ron thinks for a moment, his thumb drawing circles around your ankle. You’re sitting on the couch in the living room of his mother’s home. She’s out, so you feel comfortable resting against one of the armrests, your feet in Ron’s lap. You’re reading a book. The minute your legs rested in Ron’s lap, he placed his arms on your ankles, tracing small patterns, leaving trails of fire in his fingertips’ wake. 

“Yes,” Ron voices, his tone neutral. He doesn’t know where this is going, but if it’s going where he thinks it’s going, he’s not going to appreciate it. 

“They asked me out,” you say after a few moments. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Ron asks, terser than you expected. You’re taken aback by his response. 

“Because you’re my friend—one of my best friends—and we tell each other things,” you reply. “Well, at least I tell you things.” 

“What does that mean?” Ron asks, him now taken aback. 

“It means you don’t tell me anything. I know nothing about your life since we finished high school, and what I do know, your parents have told me. It’s not fair for me to be the only one to share things! I don’t exist as a form of entertainment for you.” 

“That’s not fair.” 

You know it’s not entirely fair. 

“I don’t have to share what the war was like for me,” Ron spits back. But that’s not what you’re referencing, and deep down, you know that he knows that, too. 

“It’s not just that,” you reply. “I’m not talking about that. You’re not required to tell me anything about your time in the war, and that’s not what I’m asking for. There’s so much more to your life that you choose not to tell me about. It’s not fair or right that I’m an open book, and you take it all in, not giving anything back in return.” 

“Don’t do that.” 

“You know everything about me, and I know pretty much nothing about you, and I’m tired of that.” A deep sigh leaves your mouth. “You don’t need to tell me everything, but I shouldn’t be disappointed in the lack of open communication between us. It’s as if you don’t trust me.”

“How can you say that? I trust you more than anyone else in this world!” Ron hears the rise in the volume of his voice. He leans back on the couch, trying to stop himself from yelling because you’re right. He doesn’t share much with you. As much as he wants to share with you, he can never get himself to say anything, and it’s not just about the war. He’s holding back; he knows he is. 

“I’m going to leave.” 

“No, please, don’t,” Ron pleads. Despite this, he releases his hold on your ankles. He won’t hold you back despite how badly he wants to. 

“You have no idea how much you mean to me, Ron.” It’s a thinly veiled confession of love, and you know Ron picks up on it, but you know he won’t say anything or give you a response.

“What makes you think I want that?” So, he was going to address it, but it still got you fuming. 

“I don’t! That’s the whole point! You don’t talk to me, so I have no idea what’s going on in your mind! I don’t want to waste my time, but I don’t want to spend my time with anyone else but you!”

You’re staring at him, begging for him to say something, anything. If he told you it was all in your head, you’d believe him. All he needed to say was anything, but you know he won’t. That’s not the kind of person Ron is. He has his walls up; he always has. The war only reinforced them, and while you can’t blame him for keeping things to himself, you can’t help but feel that your worth in his eyes diminished because of his lack of want to share. It’s almost as if you don’t mean as much to him as he means to you. It’s as if you’re more invested than he is in this relationship—platonic or romantic. 

It’s not fair to think those thoughts, but he’s not saying anything to you. He’s not making you feel any better. If he really cared for you in any way, he would say something, right? Ron’s perceptive. He very likely has a clue to what you’re feeling, but you also know he won’t say anything. He stays away from uncomfortable conversations because he isn’t comfortable having them. 

“I’m going to leave, now,” you finally decide. “It’s not fair for me to keep hanging around when I clearly don’t mean that much to you.” 

“You’re wrong,” Ron spills, reaching out to gently grab your hand. You know that he could have held you tighter, but he didn’t. That makes your heart melt, despite the conclusions you’re gathering tonight. He’s giving you the ability to walk away. 

“Tell me why.” You’re looking deep into his eyes, and you want to read into all the looks he’s giving you, but you won’t. Not anymore. 

A few minutes pass where you’re looking at him, silently begging him to say something. 

“I’m leaving now. Please don’t contact me unless you genuinely understand where I’m coming from or why I’m doing this.” With that, you shake your hand out of Ron’s hold, walking away from him, your heart breaking with every step you take. 

As he watches you walk out the door, fuming in anger, confusion, and frustration, Ron can’t help but wonder if he let the best love of his life walk away forever. 

. . . 

A few days pass, and Ron feels a deep aching in his soul. He watches the phone for hours, begging and hoping you’ll call. He knows you won’t call. He knows the cards are in his hands. That doesn’t mean he knows what to do. 

Well, he knows what to do, but he doesn’t know if he’s capable of carrying it out. 

Ron doesn’t know where to start. 

There’s so much of what you said that’s bothering him, but he can’t tell why it’s bothering him. Maybe it’s because of the way your words pierced a hole through his heart, but then again, there are so many other feelings and things that only came out in his heart, mind, stomach, and body whenever you were around. Are those things connected? 

The first thing that made his blood boil and had Ron seeing red was the idea of you going on a date with someone. In theory, the person who asked you out (they who shall not be named) isn’t objectively a bad person, but Ron just doesn’t want you with them. Why would you spend your time with they who shall not be named when you can spend your time with Ron? He doesn’t understand why he’s feeling this angry about you spending your time with someone else. 

It’s a date, Ron tries to reason with himself. I can’t give that to her.

But could he? 

Those thoughts ran through his mind one night at 2 am when Ron couldn’t fall asleep. Could he give you all of your wants and desires romantically? Could he find it in himself to give you a life with more than just friendship? Objectively, Ron knows that out of all the people in the world, you’re the best option to build a life with, and you’re the only person Ron knows he can handle. But that’s not fair to you, to be the last resort (or is it the best resort? Ron hasn’t gotten there, yet.) or someone to “handle.”

The thought of spending the rest of his life with you freaks him, but it also comforts him. Who knew someone could feel both at the same time? Is this what it means to love someone? 

Once he has that singular thought, your other comments spring up in his mind, pushing away any thoughts of love. 

It’s not fair or right that I’m an open book, and you take it all in, not giving anything back in return. 

The war broke Ron. He was already broken, but the war broke him in ways that he never knew he could break. He’s so broken that he couldn’t imagine subjecting you to that. But that’s my decision to make, Ron, he could hear you saying if he voiced those words to you. And imaginary-you is right. It’s intimately clear that you know what you’d be getting when it comes to Ron, and it would be your choice to choose to make a life with him, but he doesn’t want to hurt you. He knows he can prevent that pain if he keeps you at arm’s length. 

But that’s the problem, isn’t it? Ron doesn’t want that. He wants you as close to him as molecularly possible. He wants to stay away, but he can’t. That’s the effect you have on him. 

He thinks he has it all figured out, and then he remembers the pain in your eyes as you walked away, and when you said,

It’s not fair for me to keep hanging around when I clearly don’t mean that much to you.

He’s already hurt you. By not having the capacity or the ability to tell you just how much you mean to him, he hurt you. You think you mean nothing to him when the truth is the exact opposite. You are his entire world, the reason his heart keeps beating, and the reason he takes a breath. But it’s gone. 

He’s never going to be able to tell you how much you mean to him. He’s never going to tell you how much he loves you.

That thought scares him but also excites him. He’s always been so afraid to think that of himself, but when it’s connected to you, it’s okay. He loves you and knows he’s not good at loving, but somehow, loving you is much better than anything else. He knows that because it’s you, he’ll find a way to fix his shit and be the best possible person for you. But he knows that you won’t let him go and you won’t let him fall. Loving you is the best thing he can do because he found someone who will hold on with their entire being, and Ron knows that he’ll hold onto you with his entire being. 

Loving you means that he takes those scary steps in opening up and being vulnerable. For so long, it was ingrained in Ron’s mind and survival that he couldn’t be vulnerable. Now, he’s learned that in some instances, it’s important not to be vulnerable, and in other circumstances, it’s okay to be vulnerable and open. Being vulnerable is okay because there’s someone there who will take your vulnerability and build a wall around you to the point that you’re safe and comfortable. 

And Ron knows that person is you. 

You’ll take his fragility, emotions, and vulnerability and make it your own. You’ll protect him and love him, and you won’t hurt him because he chose to be fully himself around you. 

Because that’s what love does. 

Love cures. Love protects. Love endures. But most importantly, love loves. 

Ron loves you. 

He loves you. 

He loves you so wholly that he wants to spill his entire world right at your feet. He wants to lay everything at your feet, but he knows it will take time and patience. He knows that you’re that person who will let him get there, and he knows that he’ll love you for it and make it worth your while to give him the time and the way to be vulnerable. 

For a moment, Ron’s scared that maybe he lost his chance with you, but then he remembers something you said that struck him deep in his heart, not knowing the effect it had: 

I don’t want to waste my time, but I don’t want to spend my time with anyone else but you!

He knows it’s not guaranteed that you’ll let him back in your life, but he knows he has a small chance. He knows he has a small chance to tell you how much he loves you and to show you that he’s worth it. He’s worth taking a risk for because you’re worth taking a risk for. 

You’re worth everything to Ron, and it’s about time he finds the words to tell you. 

Maybe all he needs to start with is three little words.

. . . 

“You’re right,” Ron blurts out, barely letting you open your door. 

“I mean, yeah, but why do you say that?” you say, a small smile on your face despite the conversation you both had a few nights ago.

“That it’s not fair of you to be the only one to share things. I’m not ready to tell you everything, and I don’t know if I ever will be able to tell you some parts of what happened to me, but I want to try. But you’re right, there’s so much more to that than just the war, and it’s not fair of me to have made you feel lesser because I’m not emotionally capable of telling you things or being the person you needed me to be. ”

“Ron—” 

This was everything you wanted him to say to you, but does it change anything?  

He shakes his head. “If I want to be with you and make a life with you, I shouldn’t be a ghost to you. I shouldn’t be someone you know nothing about.” 

“You don’t have to tell me anything you’re uncomfortable with,” you attempt to reassure. “That wasn’t the point.” And that was the truth. 

Ron nods, and a small smile tugs at his lips. If only he knew the things he could make you do with just that small smile. “I’ve always been afraid of people knowing too much about me, but I guess the part of falling in love is learning to trust the most important person in your life, and I trust you. I trust you. I want to tell you all the words that are building up in my mind because you’re the only person I want to share them with. I have so many words built up in my mind that it feels like my body will explode. I never wanted to try with anyone else, but you make me want to do better and be better. Even if this goodbye, I’m still going to make an effort for all the people that matter in my life.” 

“If it feels like your body is going to explode, maybe you should go to the doctor. That can’t be a good sign.” 

A chuckle of disbelief leaves Ron’s mouth as he shakes his head. 

“What?” you question. No response follows. Ron gently grabs your upper arm and pushes you into your home as he lets himself inside. Gently and with reluctance, he lets go of your arms and shoves off his shoes. 

“I tell you I’m in love with you and I trust you, and the only thing you got from that was maybe I should go to the doctor?” 

“Oh, oops.” 

“Yeah, oops,” Ron mocks, one of the widest smiles you’ve ever seen stripes his face. “I’m falling in love with you, and I don’t want to lose you.”

“You’re not going to lose me, and you never were going to lose me.” 

He shakes his head. “You really know how to make a man’s heart weaken and emasculate him. But I guess I deserve this bit of agony and anguish.”

“I’m not doing anything!” 

“I’m telling you I love you, and you keeping skipping over that part.” 

“Because you keep saying things that warrant my more imminent response!” you defend.

“You’re doing it again,” Ron points, stepping towards you. 

“No, I don’t think so.” 

“I’m going to try something,” Ron teases. He’s never teased you before. That was new; it was a new tone to his voice that you wouldn’t mind hearing for the rest of your life. 

“What’s that?” your voice shaky. You can’t tell if he can hear you over the rattling of your heart, but by the twinkling in his eyes, you know that he’s in complete control, hoping to elicit a response from you. 

“I love you.” 

It takes a few seconds for you to register what he’s saying. A few blinks help your visual field clear up. Those three little words wipe the air out of your lungs. The ringing in your ears matches the beat of your heart as you process those three little words. For so long, you’ve been waiting for Ron to utter those three words. You didn’t want to be the first one to say those words. He’s so incredibly guarded that you weren’t sure if you were making up how you felt or how he felt, but now you know. You’ve been waiting so long to hear him finally tell you those three little words, and you have no idea what to do next. 

“Hey,” Ron whispers, gently lifting your chin to match his eyeline, taking you out of your thoughts. “What’s going on in your mind? Did I say the wrong thing?”

“What—what did you say?” Your breath is shaky, words finally leaving your lips. 

“Do you promise that if I say it again, you promise not to silently spiral?”

“No.” 

Ron chuckles. “Fair enough.”

A few seconds pass. You’re looking deep into his eyes. You want to say it to him, but you’re unsure if you dreamed it. But also, the way he said those words, his voice deep and husky did so many things to your body that you needed to hear it again. 

“I love you.” A small, nervous smile tugs at his lips as he looks at you expectantly. It takes you a few seconds to get your bearings straight, but when you do, a wide smile overcomes your face, and instantly, Ron knows you’re on the same page as him. In a matter of milliseconds, Ron pulls you against his chest, nuzzling his face against your neck, taking in deep breaths, laced with your calming scent. He’s whispering small “I love you”s into your neck as your arms find their way around his shoulders, your fingers creeping into his hair. 

Despite wanting to be in his embrace for the rest of your life, you pull back slightly, your nose resting against his. “I love you,’ you whisper, wanting so badly to close the gap between your lips and kiss him. 

“You have no idea how much I love you,” Ron replies, his lips brushing against yours. It doesn’t take much for you both to lean in, closing the gap, resting your lips on each other’s. It’s a soft kiss, hesitant and scary. There are still things that need to be sorted out, but right now, things are alright. Things are okay. The basis and the foundation are there. 

You love each other. Without that, nothing else matters. With that, you and Ron can build and develop things from there. With love, all the hidden words will no longer be tucked away, slowly finding their way to the surface. 

The future is uncertain, and there’s no telling if this will work out. But because you and Ron love each other, everything and anything is possible. With love, the future is endless. 

Fin.

Likes are appreciated; reblogs are better

#hbowarsanta23 #claudia writes #ronald spiers #ron spiers #ronald spiers x reader #ron spiers x reader #ronald spiers imagine #ronald spiers fic #ron spiers imagine #ron spiers fic #hbo war #op: 2023

[inglourious-imagines]

Poker Game (Lewis Nixon x GN!Reader)

Summary: It’s the end of the war and you’re playing poker with some of the officers, including your one and only crush, Lewis Nixon.

Requested by: anonymous (Hi! You’re back! And you wrote a new Nixon fic 💗🤗👏 Here’s an idea for another Lewis Nixon x reader fic, but it’s a little specific so ignore this if you don’t want to write it 💕)

Prompt: 116 – “Are you flirting with me?” “You finally noticed?” (the prompt isn’t strictly used but the imagine is loosely based on it)

A.N.: Here's another Nixon one (it not proofread). Also, Generation Kill and SAS: Rogue Heroes appeared on my fandom list, so feel free to send requests. I'll be faster this time, I promise haha.

Taglist: @alienoresimagines @teenmagazines @meteora-fc @eugenesmorphine @band-of-brothers-cz @real-fans  @not-john-watsons-blog @tealaquinn @ok-roemanov @mrseasycompany @punkgeekchic @wexhappyxfew @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @rayofshanshine @mavysnavy @easynix @georgeluzwarmhugs @easy-company-tradition @immrsronaldspeirs @snafus-peckuh @curraheewestandalone @warrior-healer @justamadgirlinabox @happyveday @order-of-river-phoenix @whoahersheybars

.

.

.

Playing cards when the war is over certainly doesn’t feel that much different than in Aldbourne or in Haegenau. It is a rather strange emotion, knowing that you will not have to pick up your M1 Garand the next day (or in a few minutes). You still can’t differentiate it because you have not wrapped your head around it. None of the Easy Company soldiers have.

But something is nonetheless different, you can breathe more easily, the sun is somehow brighter although everything is just the same. A strange emotion indeed.

“Stop daydreaming, Lieutenant, and fucking play.” Nixon’s voice disturbs you from your thinking and you turn your head to him. He’s smiling, actually smiling, something you haven’t seen him do for far too long, his cheeks are red, although that might be from all the alcohol he’s already drank.

“Calm down, soldier, I’ll kick your ass in no time!” you reply, a devilish grin appears on your face and Nixon’s smile immediately widens. You can’t see it, for your eyes are still fixated on Lewis only while figuring out your next move, but Harry Welsh is whispering to Lipton (like two little girls) just how oblivious you are in the most loving manner. That is something that Lipton, too, hasn’t been quite able to comprehend; you seeing everything in combat, knowing where everybody is, anticipating enemy movement, but absolutely unaware of how Nixon has been watching you with the biggest lovestruck eyes for months.

The truth is, Nixon has been crushing on you, hard, since goddamn Toccoa, Lip knew this, Dick knew this, Welsh knew this, hell even George and Liebgott noticed too, but he was still married at that time, even though unhappily, so he tried to hide it somehow. But then his wife divorced him, and he was angry, not particularly because she was leaving him but because she was also taking his dog, that he loved immensely and was his dog in the first place. But then you appeared, right after he threw away his helmet, and he forgot to be angry completely.

You knew about the troubles he’d been having with his wife, feeling the sting of jealousy that you didn’t even bother to deny to yourself. So when Dick, who’d been there to take on Lewis’s initial anger, gave you a look you knew what had happened. After that, Lewis Nixon has been a total lovestruck idiot.

You raise the bets, feeling particularly lucky this evening, and turn to Nixon with raised eyebrows. You can see just how drunk he truly is, again, but not that much as he can be, but you hate it nonetheless. So when Lewis reaches for his money to raise the bets too, you grab his full glass and down it in one take. At first, you feel like coughing because the whiskey is stronger that you anticipated, but you manage to fight it.

The whole table is looking at you in surprise, Lip and Welsh giggle in anticipation, both of them knowing (even before you two) exactly where the evening will lead for the two of you; Speirs is sort of just sitting there, sipping on his beer, amused by the whole situation.

“Don’t you toy with me, woman.” Nixon says, his voice somehow deeper than usual and you, despite trying not to, shiver. Lewis shifts in his seat, and then, just like that, his leg is pressed against yours in a manner that is not apparent to anyone sitting at the other sides of the table.

Harry coughs. “Should we go?” The question is unanswered for too long, both of you waiting for the other one to talk.

“There is no reason for you to leave,” you finally manage to get out of yourself as nonchalantly as you can. You barely just register you answered for all you can focus on is Lewis’s leg against yours. You want to pull away, not make it too easy for him, but you can’t, you need his touch, to feel him present, next to you.

Somehow you finish the game, you’re very much aware of the fact that Lewis hasn’t poured himself another drink for the rest of the evening and you’re wondering if he figured out that you hate his often drinking.

You immediately excuse yourself from the table, desperate for some fresh air for the room is suddenly too small for you and Lewis Nixon. You’re just reaching for the door knob when you hear another chair being pushed away and a deep voice saying “Sorry, gentlemen. I gotta… go.” Harry laughs at that, “That you do!”

You smile to yourself, your cheeks reddening.

Lewis catches up to you in the corridor, his arm instinctively finds your waist, rests on your hip, as he lightly presses you into him. It’s so nice to finally feel something after those long years of combat training and war.

You’ve been alone for too long, he’s been alone for too long, no words are needed, all communication is carried out between your eyes only because that’s all you need. He is here, after all this time, and it “only” took one war and one divorce for you to find your way to each other.

#band of brothers #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers oneshot #hbo war #imagine #fanfic #lewis nixon #lewis nixon imagine #lewis nixon x reader #george luz #harry welsh #ronald spiers #carwood lipton

[byneddiedingo]

Viggo Mortensen in Eastern Promises (David Cronenberg, 2007)

Cast: Viggo Mortensen, Naomi Watts, Armin Mueller-Stahl, Vincent Cassel, Sinéad Cusack, Mina E. Mina, Jerzy Skolmowski, Donald Sumpter, Raza Jaffrey. Screenplay: Steven Knight. Cinematography: Peter Suschitzky. Production design: Carol Spier. Film editing: Ronald Sanders. Music: Howard Shore. 

The Russian mafia seems to have supplanted the Italian kind in the popular imagining of the violent criminal world. David Cronenberg serves up an impressive and terrifying vision of it in Eastern Promises. Viggo Mortensen gives an intensely compelling, Oscar-nominated performance as Nikolai Luzhin, a Russian undercover agent infiltrating the mob. His celebrated battle in the steam bath, in which he, naked and unarmed, is attacked by two well-clothed thugs carrying linoleum knives should never let you take another two-against-one battle in a James Bond movie seriously. As Semyon, the vor, or mob boss, Armin Mueller-Stahl demonstrates once again that one can smile and smile and be a villain, and Vincent Cassel steals scenes with his portrayal of Semyon's careless, dissipated weakling of a son. Naomi Watts plays Anna, a midwife who gets caught up in the mob's business when a teenage prostitute dies in childbirth and she tries to look after the infant's welfare. My only complaint about Eastern Promises is a rather saccharine ending where Anna and the baby are concerned. The story of Mortensen's character ends inconclusively, with his apparent ascension to the role of boss of the mob, a risky position for an undercover agent, suggesting the possibility of a sequel. In fact, one was proposed but at last report seems to have been abandoned.

#Eastern Promises #David Cronenberg #Viggo Mortensen

[chcrrypit]

someone PLEASE give me ron speirs or joe liebgott BoB series or fic recommendations !! i prefer x fem!reader writings and i also like them to be quite lengthy instead of short. if you have any send me some or shoot me a message ! :D

#band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers #dick winters x reader #dick winters #joe liebgott x reader #joe liebgott imagine #joe liebgott #ronald speirs x reader #ronald spiers #george luz x reader #george luz #shifty powers

[lostinthewiind]

Hello! Would u please write something with Speirs? Like he can't take his eyes off of the reader and basically is all angry cause he feels really attached to her. So he eventually talks with Lip about it in the church in Foy cause Lip figures after the long dreamy look haha. And she kinda overheards them so she confronts Ron about it. Thanks a lot!! Hope the idea is not that bad haha ♡

We all be needin’ some more Speirs in our lives, me thinks! I hope I do this prompt justice!

TAG LIST: @gottapenny @warmommy @scissorsfordoc @david-weepster@wexhappyxfew @curraheev @mayhem24-7forever @one-who-hunts-eagles @bandofmarvels @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @wildwilliamguarnere @higgles123 @those-dusty-jump-wings @medievalfangirl @maiden-of-gondor @whoabrekker @thefricklefracklesin @junojelli @bandofgays @itisjustmethistime @whatwouldidowithoutgeorgeluz @dumpofdumblings​ @inglourious-imagines @misspiggyfeels

Stained-Glass Secrets

Pulling your knees up to your chest, you wrapped your arms around your legs and exhaled slowly, the stress of the past few days melting away as much as they could. With the girls’ choir singing softly in the background, you closed your eyes and tried your hardest to focus on something that made you happy: home. 

More than anything, you wished you were back home, wrapped up in a soft blanket with a warm mug of coffee. That fantasy was what had gotten you through the scariest days and the coldest nights—especially in Bastogne. 

When you opened your eyes again, the first thing you saw was Lieutenant Ronald Speirs from Dog Company staring at you from across the church, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes narrowed. He looked almost angry, but you were at a loss for what you could have done to possibly offend the officer; you weren’t even sure you had ever spoken to the man before—not one on one, at least.

As soon as Speirs made eye contact with you, however, he immediately averted his gaze. That only confused you even more.

Coming up beside the man, Lipton started chatting with Speirs, distracting him from you. In that time, you decided to head outside for a quick smoke and be alone with your thoughts for a few minutes. All you really wanted was just a chance to decompress. 

Exiting the candlelit church and walking out into the dark night, you made your way around to the back of the building where a beautiful stained-glass window allowed the warm glow of the inside to bleed out into the environment, providing just enough light for you to see what you were doing as you lit a cigarette.

Leaning back against the wall, you inhaled the nicotine and let the substance circle in your lungs, calming your naturally-stressed state before you exhaled, letting the smoke drift out between your lips and into the air.

“I think she’s starting to catch on.” the sound of the faint voice startled you slightly as you had assumed you were the only one outside. With a quick look around, however, you confirmed that you were, indeed, the only person outside. 

“You’re not exactly subtle with your staring.” the voice said again, and that was when you realized that you were hearing a conversation that was happening inside of the church, on the other side of the window. The voice belonged to Lipton, but you weren’t sure who he was talking to.

Then the second person spoke and despite your limited experience with hearing this particular person’s voice, you recognized it right away as belong to Lieutenant Speirs. “It’s not appropriate,” he said, his voice quiet and muffled so you could just barely make out what was being said. “I’m an officer and she is an enlisted soldier. Besides, it would go against all fraternization policies.”

That’s when you caught on to the fact that the two men were talking about you; they had to be, you were the only ‘she’ in the 101st. 

Gasping sharply, you accidentally inhaled too much smoke into your lungs and had to fight against the coughs that were ripping through your throat. You knew you shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but you also didn’t want the men to become aware that there was someone on the other side of the window, and that everything they were saying could be heard through the barrier.

“There are no rules against just talking to her.” Lipton reasoned. “Just say ‘hi’.”

“Then what?” Speirs asked.

“Talk to her. Listen to her. She’s a pretty interesting person if you take the time to get to know her.”

As your coughing fit subsided, you smiled softly. Lipton had always been such a good friend to you, but you had never heard him talk you up this much to anyone before. It was nice to hear such genuinely kind things about yourself.

Leaning closer to the window, you listened carefully for what was to be said next, but nothing came. No voices, hushed or otherwise. No Lipton. No Speirs. 

Just as you were about to put out your cigarette and head back into the church, you heard the large doors open and close, followed by a pair of footsteps. Looking up, you watched as a figure rounded the corner. It was Speirs.

As soon as he spotted you there, he froze, eyes wide. “Sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t know anyone else was out here.”

“It’s okay,” you told him, trying to hide your smiled and the fact that you had overheard everything he had said to Lipton. “I was just about to head back anyway.”

“No, don’t,” he said rather abruptly, catching you off guard. “I mean, ugh . . . you should stay. I don’t mind the company.”

You chuckled. “Okay. I can stay.”

“Good.” he nodded, fishing a cigarette out of his pocket and promptly lighting it before joining you against the wall. He didn’t say anything for a few minutes, and in that time, during which the two of you just smoked and stared up at the night sky, the tension built and built. Then, he looked down at you and smiled weakly. “Hi.”

You almost snorted, but you stopped yourself. He was trying, you knew that, and you didn’t want to scare him off. “Hello,” you replied. 

He nodded confidently, clearly proud of himself for getting over the first hurdle. “So, ugh . . .” he slowly trailed off, unsure of what to say next. “Tell me about yourself.”

That time you couldn’t help but laugh a little bit. “Well, that’s a very broad and open-ended question,” you smirked. “We could be here for a while.”

“Yeah . . .” his face fell a little.

“What would you like to know?”

He thought for a moment. “What did you do before this?” he asked.

“I worked as a waitress in a little diner off of the highway,” you answered. “I wore a blue dress and white apron, you know, the works. It was quite a sight.”

Speirs smiled; he actually smiled. You swore you had never even seen him look pleased before. “Out of all the possibilities I imagined, that was not one of them.”

“What did you imagine?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, something like what you do now. Like maybe a mechanic or an engineer.”

“I wish.” you sighed. “Would have probably paid the bills a lot better than waiting tables did. Probably wouldn't have joined the army at all then.”

“Oh, well, in that case, I’m glad you were a waitress.”

“Yeah?” you smiled, earning a nod in response. “Well, what about you? What did you do before?”

“School,” he stated simply. “I started military training in high school and then joined as soon as I graduated. I haven’t really done much else other than what I do now.”

You weren’t surprised by that answer in the slightest. “That makes perfect sense,” you told him. “I don’t think I could even picture you doing something else.” you closed your eyes dramatically for a few seconds for effect. “Nope, can’t do it.”

He grinned for a second. “Sorry, my answer isn’t very exciting.”

“Sometimes real life isn’t exciting,” you said. “That’s just how it goes.”

“I guess you’re right.”

By then, you had reached the end of your smoke and dropped the remaining bud onto the ground and stomped it out. “It’s getting kind of cold out here,” you commented. “I think I’m gonna head back inside. You coming?”

Speirs looked down at his own cigarette, which was only half-smoked, and threw it to the dirt without hesitation. “Yes,” he answered, falling into place beside you. 

“So, was Lipton right?” you looked up at the man beside you. “Am I an interesting person?”

Speirs stopped in his tracks and swallowed hard. “You heard us?”

“I didn’t really mean to.” you shrugged. “But, yeah. Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” he seemed to relax. “This makes it easier, I suppose. Yes, you are interesting, but I didn’t need to talk to you to know that.”

You blushed slightly. “Is that so?”

“Yes, but I think I’ll keep talking to you anyway,” he told you. “If that’s okay with you.”

“I look forward to our future chats,” you said. “Hopefully we can get to know each other a little better.”

“I’d like that.”

#band of brothers #band of brothers fic #band of brothers fanfiction #lostinthewiind #fluff #Ronald Spiers #ronald speirs x reader #reader insert #reader imagine #hbowar #speirs

[storiesbymads]

BAND OF BROS. WRITTEN AESTHETICS PT. 1

dick winters: the sound a wedding ring makes against a half empty wine glass. freshly ironed + pressed clothes. old vinyl being played for the hundredth time. long road trips. the feeling of being tucked into bed. cozy motels with the tv on low volume.

lewis nixon: empty bottles of whiskey. the feeling of returning home after an extremely long day. wearing sunglasses inside. dog kisses. going to a museum and not looking at the art but rather the person you’re with. the feeling of falling asleep in the car and having your parents carry you inside.

joseph liebgott: staying up late at night to talk to that one person. street lights reflecting onto wet asphalt. firm handshakes. calloused fingertips being pressed into dogtags. dazing out to imagine what life would be like if everything were different for just a second.

george luz: taking a nap on a sunday afternoon after swimming all day with a fresh sunburn to warm you up. peach tea. the feeling of meeting someone new and instantly clicking with them. laughing so hard you stop making noise all together. thin white curtains that let in too much sun.

eugene roe: the feeling of a loved one kissing the place you got hurt. ceilings that have religious paintings on them. hugs where one person squeezes too hard and the other can no longer breathe. long meals with family. the feeling of seeing someone you haven’t seen in a very long time.

ronald spiers: nights where you roll around in bed for hours before somehow falling asleep. the smell of the earth after a thunderstorm. slow dancing with no music. the rush of adrenaline you feel when you try something new. bookshelves full of accolades.

#dick winters #lewis nixon #joe liebgott #joseph liebgott #eugene roe #doc roe #richard winters #george luz #ronald spiers #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers #bob #aestheitcs #aesthetic #written #written aesthetic

[pfenniged]

Also the funniest thing I’ve read all week is that the enlisted men in Easy Company called Ronald Spiers “BLOODY” as his nickname; as in, “Bloody Spiers.”

But the officers called Spiers “Sparky.” As in, “Sparky Spiers.”

So I just imagine Spiers rolling up and the entire enlisted forces being like ☹️☹️☹️- “Bloody Spiers.”

And then the officers just being like- “🥹🥹🥹 sparky”

#why is this so funny help #hbo war #band of brothers #history #Ronald Spiers

[eugenesmorphine]

Hi dear, can I ask for some story of Ronald Speirs with a German or French nurse/prisoner that they’ve found plss?🥰 something like a star crossed lover😉😉

In The Jaws of Death // Ronald Spiers Imagines

AN: This isn't my best work. But in the terms of getting back into the swing of things, I hope you still enjoy it.

Words: 2,365

It was early within the morning when Easy Company quietly invaded a small town overtaken by the German army. About three in the morning to be exact. Hiding beneath the cover of the darkened sky, the moonlight shining down dully between the trees and clouds.

The town had been converted into a small base, or headquarters for the Germans. Most of the homes were clearly not in use as the enemy had forced the remaining habitants out from their homes. Just a few homes were being used at barracks, and it seemed like the small town hall had been used as their aid station.

Four officers took a knee on a hill whilst using the brush as cover. Winters, Speirs, Nixon, and Compton all kneeled within a small line, close together, staring down their own scopes. Ronald Speirs pulled his scope down first and let out a scoff. Causing the three other Paratrooper officers to lower their scopes to turn towards the officer.

“Only a few guards posted out on a few balconies. For being such a “strong force”, they’re situational awareness seems to be at an all time low,” he whispered. Winters let out a quiet chuckle and turned back to the front. Bringing the scope back up to his eye. Peering over to what seemed to be their aid station. Small jeeps continued to pour in and out hourly to drop off wounded Nazi soldiers. Two nurses continued to rush in and out. Same two nurses each time. Blood covered the aprons and dresses they wore, along with their hands. It was clear even from a decent distance away.

“Looks like that aid station is quite busy. Just two nurses it seems though, got to be careful of them,” Winters stated quietly. To which Ronald just scoffed again.

“Why would they ever decide to side with them? To nurse those son’s of a bitches back to health just to come and kill our men?” Ronald asked. His eyes now steadying on the nurses in the distance. Nixon was the one to pipe up this time.

“A lot of them don’t make the choice themselves. Some of them don’t have a choice. Kind of like how we draft men. They’re people just like us. They don’t want to kill our men, the soldiers do. They merely just want to get home. Just like us,” he told him. Nixon was right. And Ronald knew that, but he didn’t want to admit it. He wasn’t going to, because he wasn’t that type of man. So instead, he didn’t.

“They all have a choice. Just like us,” Speirs responded. Keeping his opinion voiced. Gritting his teeth. Nixon went to sarcastically respond, but Winters clapped a hand on his shoulder and pulled him back slightly. The location officer turned to look at his higher up. And Winters just shook his head. Knowing that his dear friend Ronald Spiers wouldn’t give up his opinion. Making the “come along” motion and quietly walking away. Nixon just sighed and followed his tail closely.

Speirs sat alone for a bit longer. His dark eyes staring down at that aid station.Watching the two nurses now standing outside as they washed blood soaked linens and bed sheets in old horse troughs filled with water. “Yeah, we all have a choice,” he repeated below his breath. Knowing no one would hear him. A small grunt came from his chapped lips and he stood up quietly. Grabbing his Thompson and turning around to follow his fellow officers back to their foxholes. They were to be invading soon, he just needed to prepare a bit.

///

It didn’t take long to take over the small base. Maybe an hour, and only minor wounds and just one fatal casualty. Speirs and the other officers had been working with the rest of the Paratroopers to take care of the prisoners and organize them to take them to the holding base.

Ronald had been hanging back a bit, just watching over the small process of everything they were doing. It was going smoothly. Until one thing popped into his mind. His back straightened and his head went up. He looked up at all the groups of captured Nazis, and even around at the bodies. They weren’t there. Where were the nurses?

In a flash he turned and began to briskly walk towards that aid station. He didn’t see their pale blue dresses and white aprons anywhere. Even as he searched while he walked. His eyes fell back towards the building where medical supplies had been being hauled out crate by crate. But still no nurses. He grumbled slightly and picked up his pace. Pushing past some soldiers and walking through the large wooden doors. Pausing when he saw a bunch of bodies laying down with sheets over their heads. Clearly the men the nurses were trying to save. He huffed and looked up. Seeing a group of men with their guns pointed at one of the nurses. The other one is still yet to be seen. The nurse with the soldiers around her all peered down at her. Her hands behind her head in surrender.

“Please, please let me see if I can help her,” she pleaded through a strong German accent. Ronald pursued closer. Wondering what she was bantering about. But as he walked closer, the officer was quick to understand. The other nurse, a pretty blonde woman, had been laying on her side. A pool of blood coming from her stomach. Ronald’s eyes widened. As much as he hated the Nazis, and what he had stated to the fellow officers, this was a war crime. And the sound of the other H/C nurse crying didn’t make him feel any better.

“Was this any of your bullets?” he asked sternly. Snapping his head towards the group of paratroopers, and weeping woman who still knelt on the wooden floor of the church. The woman was dead already, her body already beginning to turn ghost white, while the blood had stopped flooding from the wood. And her breath could not be heard. The downed nurse’s chest did not rise, nor fall.

The young paratroopers jumped at the menacing officer. Swallowing fast as they all shook their heads. One decided to finally speak up. “The woman was on the ground before we came in here, sir. We heard a gunshot and some German and rushed in here. The little lady was on the floor bleeding out, and a Kraut standing with a gun to this one’s head. He is over there,” he spoke, pointing to the dead German who was slumped against a wall. His head bent over, as he too was dead.

“They are speaking the truth, it was the German soldier that had shot her. I was next, they thought that we were the ones that had been giving information to you Americans when you first stormed here,” she paused as she tried to look away from her dead friend. Tears continued to pour down her face. “Please, I am not a threat. I had no choice but to be a nurse. I want nothing from this war. They would have killed me if I didn’t. Please, I do not want to die,” her English was broken. But so was her voice. Ronald stood there for a moment, wondering what he should do. She seemed sincere. And genuinely scared.

“I’ll bring her to Roe, he could probably use the help,” was all Speirs said. Leaving the men a little shocked. The woman slowly stood and wiped her eyes. Briskly walked past the corpses of her fellow nurse, and the rest of the bodies that were within the church. Following the paratrooper officer closely. Her flats hit the mud that was outside of the church, splashing up her legs and all over her shoes. She chose to ignore it for then, keeping silent as she walked behind the cold faced officer.

They walked in silence for quite a bit. The young nurse felt as if she was in fact a prisoner. The stares of the other Americans, her eyes stayed focused in front of her. Staring at Speir’s back.

Speirs had gotten sick of the silence. He was one for it, but sometimes it was boring. And with this woman, he felt compelled to speak to her for some odd reason. Just an itch that he wanted to at least learn her name. “What is your name, little lady?” he asked bluntly. To which the nurse perked her head up nervously yet quickly.

“My name is Y/N L/N. May I ask you yours, Army Man?” She responded. Ronald nodded to himself. Taking in her words and taking a deep breath. Rounding a corner of one of the run down buildings, continuing to head towards the aid station where the other medics had been stationed.

“My name is Ronald Speirs, Captain Speirs is what you can call me,” he responded. Y/N sat there and practiced the name under her breath. Repeating it quietly until she had gotten it right.

“You have a nice name, Captain Speirs,” she complimented. Making Ronald’s ends of his lips quirk upwards with a smile. He didn’t even realize he did it. “I wanted to thank you, and your men. For not killing me. You must know that it wasn’t our-” she paused for a moment and took a deep breath. “It wasn’t my choice to be this way and help the Nazi party. Many people were trapped under the work of the Nazis. Many men and women did sign up for the role for the fatherland, but many were forced, sir,” she tried to explain. Y/N was merely afraid of the worst. To be sent away and jailed, or killed. “All I wanted was my family to be safe,” she finished.

Ronald stayed silent for a moment. He remembered what he said to Winters, Welsh, and Nixon. He knew the truth, and he was just an angry type of man. But with how this young woman said certain things, how scared she sounded, how she wept and begged when they first entered that church. It made his eyes open just a little bit.

“Are you hungry?” he asked bluntly. Y/N just lifted her head a little confused at the question. She had been thinking that she was a prisoner of sorts. She didn’t exactly know how she would be treated, but definitely not like this. To be asked if she was hungry, unlike when she worked for the Germans. They pretty much told her when she was to eat, sleep, drink, use the bathroom. It was odd hearing the question after a while of just being given so many orders she was forced to do.

The young nurse didn’t understand the truth of the Americans. She wished for liberation. Prayed for it even. She was still scared she would be arrested or killed. Much like what the Russians did to the German forces. But with the company of the rather quiet, intimidating officer gave her a bit of comfort. Especially from the looks of all the men that the two walked by. The hatred filled the eyes of some, who just screamed out to blame her for helping the Germans. Y/N merely tried to ignore it, just swallowing hard and looking forward. Continuing to step through the mud.

///

When Ronald had brought Y/N to Eugene , Eugene stared up at her with surprise. “Doc, this is Y/N, she is a nurse. She is going to help you out with the wounded for now. I’m going up to HQ to figure out if we are sending her with the other prisoners or not,” he reported. Eugene just gave a respectful nod towards the officer. Y/N took a few steps towards the medic.

“I wish to help. My English isn’t the best, but I am good with my hands. I promise,” she said softly. It seemed her voice was almost permanently soft due to the harsh cold that attacked all of the soldiers. No matter what side.

Eugene just nodded and outstretched his arm to jester to the few wounded men that sat around. Y/N didn’t hesitate, she went. Kneeling in the mud and aiding a soldier that had a large shrapnel wound across the thigh and down the leg. Muttering soft prayers within her language as she began to suppress and wrap the wound.

The Officer had found himself staring. His mind was a mess. He was a close minded, but very smart man at times. Very wise for his young age. He wanted to understand. But he knew everyone had a choice. Though, he wasn’t as angry, just wanting to understand why it made her want to protect her family in a way to help the people she hated. It was a question for another time. Ronald glanced at Roe and back to the female. “If you have any problems, let me know. But other than that, keep an eye on her,” The officer spoke to the medic. Roe gave a stiff nod and looked back at his patient. A man with a bullet wound in the shoulder. And Spiers turned around and began to walk off.

As he walked, he quickly began to feel frustration bubble within himself. The image of fear etched across Y/N’s face when he had first seen her within the church, had remained burned within his mind. This was the first time he felt genuine remorse. He couldn’t tell if it was from how pretty he had found her, or the sincerity in her begging for her life. Or was it both. He hated it. He didn’t like feeling soft. Only hard and just his normal intimidating stature of an officer in charge. He wanted to brush it off, but the remorse filled his stomach with an odd feeling. He thought he was sick at first. But instead, it was butterflies. He hated it. He didn’t know why he was feeling it. But he was.

A story of love at first sight. And he didn’t know it. And neither did she. But Ronald wouldn't be one to come out and say it.

#ronald speirs x reader #ronald speirs imagine #ron speirs #ronald speirs #band of brothers #hbo war #hbo #band of brothers imagine #hbo series

[holdingforgeneralhugs]

could you do some preferences on what the BoB boys would do during covid quarantine with their s/o? maybe luz/lipton/spiers/nixon/winters?

Oh this is a good one, I've sure we've all imagined at least once what it would be like to be in lockdown with the boys!🤣

George Luz

By the end of the first week he's bouncing off the walls. And I mean bouncing.

He's a get out and go kinda guy, so being on house arrest really doesn't suit him. He wants to be out doing something enjoyable.

You guys have watched every single musical that can be found in the DVD rack, Netflix, Disney, etc.

And he knows all the songs, so he makes a big production out of it.

Somehow he can manage to sing every single part of One Day More from Les Miserables. Yes, that is an achievement in his books and mine too because I can do that also.

Then you two decide to learn to dance together, and he's 100% committed to learning the salsa. Like my god his hips can move.

He also loves to prank you. He'll jump out from behind doors and laugh his head off when you screech and start chasing after him.

He's honestly so much fun to be around, and in your books he's the best person you could possibly be in lockdown with.

Carwood Lipton

Lip is a pretty relaxed guy, so he's not too bothered about having time off to stay home.

He's incredibly helpful around the house, helping with any jobs that need to be done.

He loves to cook dinner with you and talk about everything and anything.

But he also like to do his own odd jobs and have time to himself.

Because it makes his time cuddled up with you on the couch all the more sweet.

He likes to let you pick the movie and he'll take care of the snacks.

And he loves that the two of you make funny comments all through the movie.

Most people are sick of Lockdown, but he thinks its a blessing that he gets to spend some relaxing quality time with you.

Ronald Speirs

You know what, Sparky is a real man of leisure when he wants to be.

For the first few weeks he just lounges about, doing relaxing things with you.

The two of you will sit on the couch and read a book, your head in his lap and his fingers running through your hair.

Or you'll put on a film and spend the whole thing just analysing and commenting on every. Little. Thing.

He decides to take up chess, so of course he needs someone to play with and you get roped in.

Its actually quite enjoyable, and you two are very competitive.

In fact it all gets quite heated, and the competition gets little more interesting if you catch my drift 😏

He likes to keep active too though, he goes for an afternoon run or takes the dog to the park or does jobs that he's been putting off for awhile.

Lewis Nixon

Lew is 100% a man of leisure, and he's delighted with all this free time.

Spends his mornings lazing about in his "house coat" it's a dressing gown ffs and slippers, coffee and newspaper in hand.

He's got plenty of ideas on how you can spend your free time together.

Yes, he's completely insatiable and he's obsessed with you.

But he loves to get out and take the dog to the park and play frisbee for hours, and the two of you bring a picnic to make a day of it.

He loves playing card games with you, and you're convinced he's cheating but he claims he's just got all the luck.

Evenings are spent cuddled up on the couch, blanket on your laps and the fire going.

He likes to wine and dine you too though. He'll convince you to get all dressed up like you're going out and he'll cook a fancy dinner and pour out some fancy wine. He'll even light candles and pull out your chair for you like a proper gentleman.

Dick Winters

He's a practical man, and he can't sit still. He has to be doing something.

So right away he starts taking care of all the jobs he's been putting off around the house.

And once he's run out of those, he makes new jobs for himself.

He paints the whole house, inside and out. He starts building a wooden birdhouse which takes him a few days to do.

Then he digs up a corner of the garden to make a bigger vegetable patch.

In fact the garden and the house have never looked so immaculate.

Eventually you have to sit him down, hands on his shoulders, and tell him to just relax for chrissakes.

So he does....or at least he tries.

He takes up soduku and puzzles, and he loves those. He'll be there for hours, elbows leaning on the table and brows furrowed in concentration.

He enjoys having time at home with you too though. Loves to help you cook new recipes or watch new TV shows and movies.

His favorite part is getting to wake up with you in the morning, neither of you in a hurry to get anywhere.

He'll wrap his arms around you and cuddle you close, the two of you dozing off again all warm and cozy.

Taglist:  @tvserie-s-world @geniedocroe @generousdreamlanddestiny @sunsetmando @cagzzz107 @howunexpectedlyso @alejodi0nysus @sunflowerchuck @now-im-a-belieber @anderperrysupremacy @50svibes @eugene-emt-roe @pennyllane @televisionboy @scientistsinistral @vv1nch3st3r

#band of brothers #bob #george luz #carwood lipton #ronald speirs #lewis nixon #dick winters #band of brothers fandom #band of brothers imagine #hbo band of brothers #holdingforgeneralhugs

[floralfloyd]

One-shots and Imagines Requests

Below is a list of all the people I write for but I’m always willing to give anything a try if you don’t see your favorite person on there. As for plots, I’m open to anything and will write any kind of plot idea minus smut. 

Band of Brothers

Floyd Talbert

George Luz

Dick Winters

Joe Liebgott

Babe Heffron

Lewis Nixon

Chuck Grant

Harry Welsh

Bill Guarnere

Ronald Spiers

Donald Malarkey

Carwood Lipton

 The Pacific

Robert Leckie

Bill ‘Hoosier’ Smith – willing to do Jacob Pitts too

Eugene Sledge

Sidney Philips

Andrew ‘Ack  Ack’ Haldane

Bohemian Rhapsody Cast 

Gwilym Lee - all characters including Brian May

Queen

Brian May 

John Deacon

Pink Floyd

David Gilmour 

Rick Wright

Nick Mason

#gwilym lee #gwilym lee x reader #Gwilym #gwilym lee x y/n #gwilym lee x oc #joe mazzello #joe mazello x reader #eugene sledge #eugene sledge x reader #robert leckie #robert leckie x reader #robert leckie x oc #bill hoosier smith #bill hoosier #bill hoosier smith x reader #bill smith x reader #hoosier x reader #sidney philips #andrew haldane #hbo the pacific #the pacific hbo #hbo war #Brian May #brian may x reader #brian may x y/n #brian may x oc #John Deacon #john deacon x reader #john deacon x oc #david gilmour

[typical-simplelove]

Masterlist

Who I Write For

Stardust Reblog Challenge: September & October

Imagine the 40s... a 40s AU Series (Hockey)

Kelsea Ballerini Series (Hockey)

Labor Day Blurb Weekend 2k21 Masterlist (Hockey)

Good Things: a Dan+Shay Album Series (multi)

12 Days of December 2k21 (multi)

The Peter Pan Universe (Jacob Markstrom & Matthew Tkachuk Love Triangle)

Happiness Begins: an Album Series (multi)

August x Betty x Cardigan (Top Gun: Maverick)

Frederik Andersen

Bucky Barnes

Mathew Barzal

Anthony Beauvillier

JT Compher

Dylan Cozens

Kirby Dach

Leon Draisaitl

Oliver Ekman-Larsson

Ryan Graves

Jay Halstead

Will Halstead

Roope Hintz

Tyson Jost

Anders Lee

Richard Madden

Cale Makar

Jacob Markstrom

Matt Martin

Jamie Oleksiak

Peter Parker

Elias Pettersson

Mikko Rantanen

Jake Seresin

Ronald Spiers

Kelly Severide

Jeff Skinner

Andrei Svechnikov

Matthew Tkachuk

#claudia writes #masterlist

[inglourious-imagines]

A Bet Worth More Than 50 Bucks (Lewis Nixon!GNReader)

Requested by: @cagzzz107 - Hi! So glad you're writing again! How are ya? 🙂 As far as my request goes, I'll shamelessly ask for number 115 from your prompt list + Nix if you're up to it 🙈😁

Prompt: 115 - Are you naked under that thing?

Summary: The war is over, there's drinking and Liebgott offers you a bet one simply can't refuse.

Warnings: a few f words, implications of sex, drinking, smoking

Author's Note: Thank you so much for the request! I'm super happy I'm starting off with Nix! I'm not doing particularly well, but I'm trying, thanks a lot for asking ♡. My writing might be a bit rusty so please, be tolerant with me. Enjoy :)

Taglist: @alienoresimagines @teenmagazines @meteora-fc @eugenesmorphine @band-of-brothers-cz @real-fans @not-john-watsons-blog @tealaquinn @ok-roemanov @mrseasycompany @punkgeekchic @wexhappyxfew @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @rayofshanshine @mavysnavy @easynix @georgeluzwarmhugs @easy-company-tradition @immrsronaldspeirs @snafus-peckuh @curraheewestandalone @warrior-healer @justamadgirlinabox @happyveday @order-of-river-phoenix @whoahersheybars

Taglist Link in my bio (should work now), as well as my Masterlist and Prompt list, if anyone's interested. My requests are open.

.

.

.

The war was over.

It was all undoubtedly over that your eyes prickled with years, and you continued to repeat those four words in your head again and again as if you were convincing yourself of it all.

When you left for Toccoa, Georgia, in 1942, when you were getting on that train, you never really expect to come back to your little hometown. To you, it was a one-way ticket. You didn’t feel particularly sad about your fate at that time, you were terrified, of course, but not sad for enlisting was something you had to do, needed to do and wanted to do. You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself knowing you were able to help but did not.

But here you were, standing on a balcony in Eagle’s Nest, sun kissing your cheeks, as you took in the heavenly sight of Austrian Alps, finally able to appreciate the beauty of the world. You were alive, you survived. A smile slowly tucked at your lips.

“How come you’re all alone?” a voice, thick with accent, filled your ears and a boy, no, a man with tired eyes appeared next to you.

“How come you’re wandering all alone?” you replied with a question, tilting your head slightly.

Eugene Roe was the bravest man you ever had the fortune of meeting – being a medic in the midst of killing required a whole lot of courage, determination and empathy, something you always admired him for. You wondered if he will ever be able to lose that fatigue from his eyes but you had a feeling that no matter how much he sleep he got, he’ll never catch up with the lost nights in Bastogne.

“Alright, let me rephrase that,” he chuckled, “where is Nixon and why are you not together?”

You almost choked on the smoke from your cigarette. “What?”

“You heard me, Y/N.” Roe laughed sweetly.

“’Gene, please, he doesn’t have any attachment to me nor I to him plus I’ve heard things are pretty serious with his girl… oh, what was her name? Ah, yes, Vat ’69.”

Eugene looked at you, a soft smile on his face, but then he averted his gaze, focusing on something in the distance unknown to the whole world.

“Oh God,” you sighed, “don’t give me that look like you know everything. I hate it.”

Eugene just laughed, this time in a more relaxed way. “Tonight, celebration begins. Don’t be late.”

•••

The celebration was under a full swing, they were happy the war was over, sad they lost so many.

You were dancing in the middle of the room with George and notably drunk Shifty who was appearing and disappearing randomly - you reminded yourself to keep an eye on how much, or rather how fast, he was drinking. You lasted maybe 2 minutes, probably less, and all hope was definitely lost when George suddenly grabbed your hand and dragged you gently across the room to Tab and Liebgott, who were giggling at something like two teenage girls discussing their crush.

“What the hell…” you mumbled but did not really resist, and when Tab handed you another beer with a wink, your slight concerns dissolved. You were too drunk to care anyway.

“Guess who has been watching you the whole fucking night.” Liebgott chuckled, throwing his arm around your shoulders, giving you all sorts of funny and knowing looks.

“I know, I know, I know!” Tab all of a sudden shouted, his cheeks red, “Is it Shifty? I know it’s Shifty, right. But-“

“Not you, you idiot.” George slapped his arm playfully, shaking head at him. “Fucking unbelievable.”

You amusedly watched the whole exchange of ideas, trying not to burst out laughing, genuinely intrigued by the conversation.

“You always do this,” George continued, he obviously had forgotten all about you due to his drunken state, “Not everything is about you, Talbert.”

Floyd just sniggered. “You’re just jealous ‘cause I-“

The rest you unfortunately did not hear for Liebgott was leading you a bit further from them, apparently very eager to discuss the matter Luz brought you over for in the first place.

“Hey, Joe! I was actually enjoying that-“

Today was not the day to finish your, or anyone’s, sentences.

“I’ll bet you 50 bucks if you sneak into Nixon’s room, steal one of his shirts and those sunglasses he keeps on his bedside table and come back here.”

You stared at Lieb for a second, processing the words he said very quickly. Then you devilishly smiled, you did not even ask how he knew where Nix was keeping his sunglasses.

“You just got yourself a deal.”

•••

You knew exactly where Lewis’s room was, you were able to get there blindfolded, in pitch dark. This wasn’t necessarily because you possessed some super navigating and orientation skills, but because you simply visited his room during the night when others were asleep.

Nobody knew about it, you hadn’t even told Eugene, your best friend, not for a feeling of shame, not in the least, but because you weren’t quite sure what was happening between you and Nixon. Just fooling around? Was there a relationship starting? You had no idea and right now, you couldn’t care less.

When you reached your destination, you didn’t even hesitate to listen if there was someone inside but your bet on Lewis and his unwavering love for alcohol was right. The room was abandoned.

You rushed as quietly as possible to the drawer where you knew he kept his clean clothes, picked one army shirt, and put it on, once you also undressed your clothes. However, you decided to make it even more interesting and took off your underwear as well.

You chuckled to yourself. You were getting yourself in so much trouble, but you simply couldn’t resist the urge to tease Lew to the point of madness. God knows he’d done that to you multiple times.

You swiftly grabbed the sunglasses, put them on and disappeared from the room. You were surprised, and quite proud of yourself too, when you managed to close the door really quietly given your drunken state, but you couldn’t stop the giggle.

You ran through the huge house, not meeting a single soul (thank God), obviously because everyone was drinking in the big hall.

It wasn’t hard for you to slip inside, but keeping a low profile was. A person with nothing on but a shirt that reached their mid-thighs and sunglasses? On the other hand, people were turning their heads, but it wasn’t such a spectacle, they’d seen crazier things happen.

You knew exactly why Liebgott challenged you to do this. Maybe when the war ended today, something new could begin.

You were almost halfway through your journey to Joe when a hand grabbed your arm firmly and stopped you. One side of his body was pressed against you as he held you close. You knew this was coming, and yet you weren’t ready for the overwhelming storm of emotions roaring inside of you, as it happened every time when Lewis Nixon was near you.

“Are you naked under that thing?” his lips grazed your skin, and you shuddered under the light touch.

“If by that thing you mean your favourite shirt, then yes, I am naked under that thing.” you responded, looking Nix in the eye, getting lost for a moment. A soft smile tugged at your lips. You suddenly felt this strong urge to run your fingers through his hair, over and over again, touch him everywhere, get to know his every dark corner, and then to stay forever.

Lewis stared at you for a second, contemplating your words carefully.

“Okay, we’re leaving.” he finally said as he grabbed your hand this time, intertwining his fingers with yours, which he had never done before, especially in public.

You were almost out of the door but you managed to turn back, find Liebgott with your eyes and mouthed voicelessly with a cheeky grin: “You owe me 50 bucks!”

#imagine #hbo war #fanfic #band of brothers #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers imagine #lewis nixon x reader #lewis nixon imagine #lewis nixon #eugene roe #george luz #shifty powers #joe liebgott #ronald spiers #harry welsh #dick winters #love

[stillbandofbrothersthirsty]

Easy Company as One Direction Songs

~ These are my headcanons inspired by 1D songs. I’d love to hear your thoughts :) ~

Dick Winters - I SHOULD HAVE KISSED YOU

“It's all that I can think about Oh, you're all that I can think about”

Mr. Perfect who’s always in his own head. Winters is calm and collected and almost cold in a first encounter. However, after his initial attraction, he will proceed to dissect every moment for what he could’ve and should’ve done. The only thing that will satiate him is getting to know the person he’s just found himself falling for.

Harry Welsh - OLIVIA

“I live for you, I long for you, Olivia I've been idolizing the light in your eyes, Olivia”

The majority of the lyrics in this song isn’t very Harry Welsh-esque because he truly is such a subtly steadfast lover. It’s the general tone that encapsulates his initially facetious manner, and once you get into the lyrics you see how much he truly cares.

Lewis Nixon - MIDNIGHT MEMORIES

“Tell me that I'm wrong but I do what I please Way too many people in the Addison Lee”

This vagabond bachelor-wannabe is here for a good time not a long time. Nixon can fall in and out of love in a single night. At his core he knows who he is and doesn’t need anyone to “save him”, so he’s just playing the most enjoyable version of this game, life.

Ronald Spiers - FOOL’S GOLD

“But I know in my heart, you're not a constant star And yeah, I let you use me from the day that we first met”

On the surface, Spiers seems eager and reckless. But on a deeper level he invests himself completely in his companies, his missions, and eventually his wife. His fervent looting seems to be a desperate lure to keep his wife who eventually defaults back to her first husband.

Carwood Lipton - WHERE DO BROKEN HEARTS GO

“All the rest of my crimes don't come close To the look on your face when I let you go So I built you a house from a broken home”

Lipton is the first to discount himself. He is constantly striving to better and never realizes the impact he actually has on those around him. Lipton is the guy to sacrifice a love he underestimates for duty, for career, then immediately realize the mistake he made. He will spend the rest of his life making up for that.

Floyd Talbert - ALIVE

“I asked the doctor, "can you find out what is wrong with me? I don't know why I wanna be with every girl I meet”

Floyd has this incredible likability that allows him to get away with what would be offensive if anyone else did it. He’s a huge flirt (and then some) and even resigns his position as 1st sergeant all while maintaining the love and admiration of all that know him. If this were high school, he’d be the kid who always kicked his feet up on his desk, “just chillin’”, and graduates salutatorian.

George Luz - STAND UP

“I would walk through the desert, I would walk down the aisle, I would swim all the oceans just to see you smile, Whatever it takes is fine”

Luz is nothing if not persistent. He’ll shoot his shot until he runs out of bullets. And for all of his comedic charm, he is hopefully devoted to his partner like he is devoted to living life for all of its joys and pleasures.

Joe Liebgott - STORY OF MY LIFE

“Leave my heart open But it stays right here in its cage”

He talks about finding a wife and having lots of little Liebgotts but there’s a sharp edge to Liebgotts heart that hurts him as much as it protects him. He wants to be open to love but he can’t seem to push past the walls he has up. His sharp tongue defends himself with cheap remarks and dark jokes.

Don Malarkey - HOME

“I was stumbling, looking in the dark with an empty heart But you say you feel the same, Could we ever be enough?”

Clearly he is just wrecked by the end of the war. However, we’re reminded of the happy-go-lucky kid who sat down to chat with an enemy soldier when he pops champagne in the Eagles Nest. This song is simply Malarkey; an acknowledgement of heartbreak with tentative hope for a simple, yet satisfying, love.

Joe Toye - LOVE YOU GOODBYE

“Oh, even though it's over you should stay the night, If tomorrow you won't be mine, Won't you give it to me one last time?”

Just imagine Toye as a deeply passionate romantic. He’s this gruff, most badass soldier but it’s revealed (especially in Malarkey’s book) that he is incredibly sensitive. He won’t grovel or protest; but his flame is only extinguished, it doesn’t burn out as embers.

Bill Guarnere - THEY DON’T KNOW ABOUT US

“Oh, they don't know about the things we do They don't know about the I love you’s”

Guarnere is the cock of the walk who confidently charms any lady who passes him on the street. He’s the kind of guy to flirt high and low but always return home to his partner. Guarnere would never truly hurt or betray the one he loves.

Buck Compton - READY TO RUN

“Then there's me inside a sinking boat, running out of time Without you, I'll never make it out alive”

At his best, Buck is a grand ol’ time. At his lowest, his empathetic love for all his people takes him to a dark place. Buck is ready to escape the pain of the world and live life vivaciously with whoever will take him as he is.

Skip Muck - STEAL MY GIRL

“She be my queen, Since we were sixteen We want the same things, We dream the same dreams”

Skip is the kind of guy to have a high school sweetheart. Imagine him knowing his partner’s family so well that he can just walk into the house, kiss his partners mom on the cheek, and help himself to the fridge. He’s the kind of guy to help his partner’s dad with housework before going home to shower only to return to take his partner out to the movies. Such a wholesome kind of love that is unwavering and constant.

Doc Roe - STRONG

“I'm sorry if I say, "I need you" But I don't care, I'm not scared of love”

It takes a minute for Roe to get there with people; he has carefully constructed boundaries. But once he’s in, he’s in. He has seen too much pain, too many soul crimes, to not find strength in true love when it’s right there in front of him.

Babe Heffron - FIREPROOF

“I roll, and I roll 'til I'm out of luck Yeah, I roll, and I roll 'til I'm out of luck”

This song’s feel good beat is Babe; it’s an unperturbed rhythm singing about a steady kind of love. Babe probably didn’t see this love coming but picked it up so seamlessly as it came along that it was as if it always had been.

Frank Perconte - TAKEN

“Now that I finally moved on You say that you missed me all along”

Perconte is the type to fall victim to the on again-off again love. Often times, he is underestimated for what he has to offer. Unfortunately, his presence is missed only when it’s gone - a gap. He has a hard time saying goodbye once he’s attached because he loves so purely. But inevitably, with time, those idealist dreams of a traditional romance will be tainted by inexperience and indecision.

#hbo war #band of brothers #headcanon #one direction #lyrics #frank perconte #babe heffron #doc roe #eugene roe #skip muck #buck compton #bill guarnere #wild bill guarnere #joe toye #don malarkey #joe liebgott #george luz #floyd talbert #carwood lipton #ronald spiers #lewis nixon #harry welsh #dick winters

[shiftysdogtags]

Hi love, I was wondering if you can do a prompt that says ‘ I thought you died ‘ with spiers?

I was trying to go with a soft Speirs thing here😂 i hope you like it

All requests are open and you can find a prompt list here💕

Taglist: @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @teenmagazines @curraheewestandalone @liebegott @happyveday @inglourious-imagines @easy-company-tradition @vintagelavenderskies

Just a Scratch

No one had seen you for hours. Everyone from your squad had returned with the exception of you. Everyone was worried, all the officers were worried. The men looked up to you and they could already feel the fear for your safety creep throughout the ranks. The one who missed you most was your Captain. Ron Speirs was more than just a superior officer; he was your everything.

The not so secret relationship between you both was something all of Easy was aware of, but they never actively talked about. They wouldn’t dare bring it up in front of Speirs.

As time went on the worry he had increased and the tightening in his chest made it hard to breathe. You had spent the majority of the time telling him to be careful and warning him that if he got hurt you wouldn’t be happy with him. You were the more cautious one and yet it was you who was being reckless. He thought it was ironic of sorts.

Hours had passed and just when he was being to give up, you limped into the room clutching the top of your leg. It hurt like Hell, a shooting burning pain every time you put pressure on it, but nothing was going to stop you from getting back to your friends, or your lover. “Did you guys miss me?”

At the sound of your voice, Ron snapped his head in your direction. It took everything in him not to run up to you and cover your face in kisses. If it wasn’t for his fellow officers present he would have.

One by one they hugged you, obviously glad that you were alive. “What happened to you? You look rough” Welsh asked with a toothy grin.

“I got separated that's all” Lightly patting his arm at his comment, you gladly accepted his hug.

“Well, I think you look as beautiful as ever, Y/N” Nixon was ever the flirt.

Ron couldn’t move, frozen to his spot. It took a minute for him to realise it was you physically standing in front of him and not a phantom of his imagination. A single look at you is all it took for the tightening in his chest to relax and he felt like he could breathe again as if his world had realigned somehow.

When he didn’t move, you limped as fast as you could towards him. Although he tried his hardest, he couldn’t speak. The words wouldn’t form in his dry mouth. Coming face to face and with a hand, on his chest, you gave him a sweet reassuring smile.

“When you didn’t come back,” He bit his lip, stopping himself from finishing his sentence. The relief in his voice could be heard by everyone present. “I thought you died”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm very much alive” you smirked trying to lighten the mood, only to have his glare intensify.

Ron no longer cared who was there to see and pulled you to his chest a little more forceful than he meant. The sound of you wincing caused him to mentally curse himself for causing you more pain. He mumbled an apology and called for Doc Roe. There was no chance he was going to let you sneak back to your squad without having your leg looked at.

The other officers were shocked. Neither of you showed the other affection in front of anyone and no one had accidentally caught you in a rare moment of closeness. They were surprised because they didn’t expect the cold wall that was Ronald Speirs to engulf you as he did. Everyone felt awkward at the affection happening in front of them and they used the arrival of Roe as an excuse to leave.

Speirs lifted you onto the table, hands on your waist while yours supported yourself on his shoulders. He tried placing you down as carefully as possible, but you scrunched your face in pain. It wasn’t his fault, but he mumbled an apology regardless.

A grenade had exploded near you, leading to shrapnel embedding in your thigh. Little slivers littered themselves all over your leg and the only way Roe could get them out and clean you up was to remove your trousers. Naturally, Speirs wasn’t crazy on the idea, but he would rather that than you be better than in pain.

While Gene did his thing cleaning your thigh, he could feel eyes boring a hole into the back of his head. They watched his every move, making sure he didn’t cause you any more discomfort and ensuring they didn’t venture too high. The only thing that made either of them feel better was the sound of your voice telling them you were fine and encouraging Gene not to worry. He made quick work of it, not wanting to be there and longer than necessary. While leaving, he strictly instructed you to stay off your feet and to keep it clean.

Speirs watched Roe leave, wanting to make sure he was truly gone before he kissed you. It was completely different from all the secret and stolen chaste kisses you shared behind splintered trees and dark ditches. It was needy, the feelings he was so desperate to show you pent up in a single action. Kiss after kiss after kiss made it difficult for you to catch your breath. “I thought you were gone. I thought you were dead.”

“It's going to take a lot more than a scratch to get rid of me, sir.” You sent a cheeky wink his way, earning a muffled laugh. He crashed his lips back onto yours with a bruising force.

#ronald speirs x reader #ron speirs x reader #speirs x reader #band of brothers #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers x reader #bob imagine #bob x reader #ron speirs imagines #ron speirs imagine #speirs imagines

[indigosandviolets]

Can I request a ronald speirs imagine where the reader has for habit to go see him in his foxhole in Bastogne meaning the reader cross the field with no covers id that makes sense please?♥️

I think I can try to do what you’re saying! This got kinda domestic at the end, so it’s really fluffy!

Word Count: 659

Bastogne was another kind of hell for you and Ron. With the way the lines had been set up, Dog Company was a good deal away from you, and the supply line between went around the German territory. It would have been a simple and painless cross if the supply line was farther up, but following that route meant that you two would’ve been roughly an hour away walking.

That doesn’t mean you weren’t willing to cross the enemy lines for him.

“Ron.”

“Hmm?”

“Ron. Wake up.”

Spiers opens up his eyes, rubbing them and blinking away the sleep and little bits of snow away from his face. Before him, he comes to recognize, is you, shivering as you crouch down in the foxhole.

“What the hell are you doing?” He asks, bringing you closer as he reaches out to you. He pulls you to his side and you lean your head on his shoulder.

“I needed to see you,” You tell him. “It’s been too damn long and I missed you.”

“Y/N, you could’ve frozen to death out here,” He says as he pulls him blanket over you. He pauses. “Did you cross the lines alone?”

You don’t answer. Instead, you bury your face in his neck in an attempt to hide your embarrassment — he wouldn’t be able to tell though, it’s so cold he wouldn’t have noticed.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you cross the lines alone?”

“Maybe.”

He sighs. “You can’t do that. You could’ve been killed.”

You look up at him. His tone isn’t condescending, he’s concerned. He always is when it comes to you.

“You have no problem when I ask Lip to take me.”

“That’s because he’s Lip, Y/N.”

You scrunch up your nose as you think. “I can handle myself, Ron, you know that.”

“I know, I just don’t want you getting hurt.”

“You would do the same for me, regardless of whether you had someone with you or not.”

Spiers couldn’t argue with that.

“I miss you, Ron,” you tell him. “Every time I stitch up one of those men or I have to bandage them up I can’t help but think that if you were hurt I wouldn’t be able to do anything because you’re all the way over here.” You stop for a second. “I know you don’t like it when I come over here alone, but I need to. I need to make sure you’re still alive.”

Speirs pulls you closer, placing a kiss to your forehead, then to each of your cheeks, then your nose, then your lips. He’s gentle each time. You can taste the cold on him, but each kiss warms your heart nonetheless.

“We’ll get through this, I promise,” Ron tells you as he pulls away. You put your head on his chest as he wraps his arms around your waist. “When this war is over, I promise you we’re never gonna be cold like this again.”

“That’s a hard promise to keep, Ron,” You almost laugh. “I’m from New York, it’s always cold.”

“Who says we have to go to New York?”

“Where else do you suggest we go?”

He thinks for a moment. “Georgia?”

“And deal with Sobel?”

“No, not Toccoa. Maybe Fort Benning? I can stay in the military there and you can work in the hospital there,” he explains. “We can buy a house near a peach farm, have a couple of kids, and it won’t ever get as cold as it is here, but when they complain we can remind them that they don’t know cold until you’ve been to Bastogne.”

“You’ve got this planned out, haven’t you?”

Ron chuckles. “Sometimes I think about it when I’ve got some free time.”

“Thought of any names for kids?” You half-way joke.

He pauses. “How about Ruth?”

“I’m partial to Mary-Anne.”

He smiles. Even in the cold hell, he could still imagine the warmth of his future with you.

#band of brothers imagine #band of brothers x reader #ron speirs #ronald speirs #ronald speirs x reader #bastogne

[eugenesmorphine]

Hi! Can I request for some Ronald Speirs with a women from an enemy side,like a german nurse/prisoner smth like that😁

AN: I have returned. I know, from the hole of depression and school. I hope to be more active, so imagines will be coming out more. This one isn't my best since i'm trying to get back into the swing of things. But, regardless, I hope you enjoy.

First Sightings // A Ronald Speirs Imagine

Words: 2,365

Taglist: @alienoresimagines @ricksmorty @punkgeekcryptid !@hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @valterras @adamantiumdragonfly

It was early within the morning when Easy Company quietly invaded a small town overtaken by the German army. About three in the morning to be exact. Hiding beneath the cover of the darkened sky, the moonlight shining down dully between the trees and clouds.

The town had been converted into a small base, or headquarters for the Germans. Most of the homes were clearly not in use as the enemy had forced the remaining habitants out from their homes. Just a few homes were being used at barracks, and it seemed like the small town hall had been used as their aid station.

Four officers took a knee on a hill whilst using the brush as cover. Winters, Speirs, Nixon, and Compton all kneeled within a small line, close together, staring down their own scopes. Ronald Speirs pulled his scope down first and let out a scoff. Causing the three other Paratrooper officers to lower their scopes to turn towards the officer.

“Only a few guards posted out on a few balconies. For being such a “strong force”, they’re situational awareness seems to be at an all time low,” he whispered. Winters let out a quiet chuckle and turned back to the front. Bringing the scope back up to his eye. Peering over to what seemed to be their aid station. Small jeeps continued to pour in and out hourly to drop off wounded Nazi soldiers. Two nurses continued to rush in and out. Same two nurses each time. Blood covered the aprons and dresses they wore, along with their hands. It was clear even from a decent distance away.

“Looks like that aid station is quite busy. Just two nurses it seems though, got to be careful of them,” Winters stated quietly. To which Ronald just scoffed again.

“Why would they ever decide to side with them? To nurse those son’s of a bitches back to health just to come and kill our men?” Ronald asked. His eyes now steadying on the nurses in the distance. Nixon was the one to pipe up this time.

“A lot of them don’t make the choice themselves. Some of them don’t have a choice. Kind of like how we draft men. They’re people just like us. They don’t want to kill our men, the soldiers do. They merely just want to get home. Just like us,” he told him. Nixon was right. And Ronald knew that, but he didn’t want to admit it. He wasn’t going to, because he wasn’t that type of man. So instead, he didn’t.

“They all have a choice. Just like us,” Speirs responded. Keeping his opinion voiced. Gritting his teeth. Nixon went to sarcastically respond, but Winters clapped a hand on his shoulder and pulled him back slightly. The location officer turned to look at his higher up. And Winters just shook his head. Knowing that his dear friend Ronald Spiers wouldn’t give up his opinion. Making the “come along” motion and quietly walking away. Nixon just sighed and followed his tail closely.

Speirs sat alone for a bit longer. His dark eyes staring down at that aid station.Watching the two nurses now standing outside as they washed blood soaked linens and bed sheets in old horse troughs filled with water. “Yeah, we all have a choice,” he repeated below his breath. Knowing no one would hear him. A small grunt came from his chapped lips and he stood up quietly. Grabbing his Thompson and turning around to follow his fellow officers back to their foxholes. They were to be invading soon, he just needed to prepare a bit.

///

It didn’t take long to take over the small base. Maybe an hour, and only minor wounds and just one fatal casualty. Speirs and the other officers had been working with the rest of the Paratroopers to take care of the prisoners and organize them to take them to the holding base.

Ronald had been hanging back a bit, just watching over the small process of everything they were doing. It was going smoothly. Until one thing popped into his mind. His back straightened and his head went up. He looked up at all the groups of captured Nazis, and even around at the bodies. They weren’t there. Where were the nurses?

In a flash he turned and began to briskly walk towards that aid station. He didn’t see their pale blue dresses and white aprons anywhere. Even as he searched while he walked. His eyes fell back towards the building where medical supplies had been being hauled out crate by crate. But still no nurses. He grumbled slightly and picked up his pace. Pushing past some soldiers and walking through the large wooden doors. Pausing when he saw a bunch of bodies laying down with sheets over their heads. Clearly the men the nurses were trying to save. He huffed and looked up. Seeing a group of men with their guns pointed at one of the nurses. The other one is still yet to be seen. The nurse with the soldiers around her all peered down at her. Her hands behind her head in surrender.

“Please, please let me see if I can help her,” she pleaded through a strong German accent. Ronald pursued closer. Wondering what she was bantering about. But as he walked closer, the officer was quick to understand. The other nurse, a pretty blonde woman, had been laying on her side. A pool of blood coming from her stomach. Ronald’s eyes widened. As much as he hated the Nazis, and what he had stated to the fellow officers, this was a war crime. And the sound of the other H/C nurse crying didn’t make him feel any better.

“Was this any of your bullets?” he asked sternly. Snapping his head towards the group of paratroopers, and weeping woman who still knelt on the wooden floor of the church. The woman was dead already, her body already beginning to turn ghost white, while the blood had stopped flooding from the wood. And her breath could not be heard. The downed nurse’s chest did not rise, nor fall.

The young paratroopers jumped at the menacing officer. Swallowing fast as they all shook their heads. One decided to finally speak up. “The woman was on the ground before we came in here, sir. We heard a gunshot and some German and rushed in here. The little lady was on the floor bleeding out, and a Kraut standing with a gun to this one’s head. He is over there,” he spoke, pointing to the dead German who was slumped against a wall. His head bent over, as he too was dead.

“They are speaking the truth, it was the German soldier that had shot her. I was next, they thought that we were the ones that had been giving information to you Americans when you first stormed here,” she paused as she tried to look away from her dead friend. Tears continued to pour down her face. “Please, I am not a threat. I had no choice but to be a nurse. I want nothing from this war. They would have killed me if I didn’t. Please, I do not want to die,” her English was broken. But so was her voice. Ronald stood there for a moment, wondering what he should do. She seemed sincere. And genuinely scared.

“I’ll bring her to Roe, he could probably use the help,” was all Speirs said. Leaving the men a little shocked. The woman slowly stood and wiped her eyes. Briskly walked past the corpses of her fellow nurse, and the rest of the bodies that were within the church. Following the paratrooper officer closely. Her flats hit the mud that was outside of the church, splashing up her legs and all over her shoes. She chose to ignore it for then, keeping silent as she walked behind the cold faced officer.

They walked in silence for quite a bit. The young nurse felt as if she was in fact a prisoner. The stares of the other Americans, her eyes stayed focused in front of her. Staring at Speir’s back.

Speirs had gotten sick of the silence. He was one for it, but sometimes it was boring. And with this woman, he felt compelled to speak to her for some odd reason. Just an itch that he wanted to at least learn her name. “What is your name, little lady?” he asked bluntly. To which the nurse perked her head up nervously yet quickly.

“My name is Y/N L/N. May I ask you yours, Army Man?” She responded. Ronald nodded to himself. Taking in her words and taking a deep breath. Rounding a corner of one of the run down buildings, continuing to head towards the aid station where the other medics had been stationed.

“My name is Ronald Speirs, Captain Speirs is what you can call me,” he responded. Y/N sat there and practiced the name under her breath. Repeating it quietly until she had gotten it right.

“You have a nice name, Captain Speirs,” she complimented. Making Ronald’s ends of his lips quirk upwards with a smile. He didn’t even realize he did it. “I wanted to thank you, and your men. For not killing me. You must know that it wasn’t our-” she paused for a moment and took a deep breath. “It wasn’t my choice to be this way and help the Nazi party. Many people were trapped under the work of the Nazis. Many men and women did sign up for the role for the fatherland, but many were forced, sir,” she tried to explain. Y/N was merely afraid of the worst. To be sent away and jailed, or killed. “All I wanted was my family to be safe,” she finished.

Ronald stayed silent for a moment. He remembered what he said to Winters, Welsh, and Nixon. He knew the truth, and he was just an angry type of man. But with how this young woman said certain things, how scared she sounded, how she wept and begged when they first entered that church. It made his eyes open just a little bit.

“Are you hungry?” he asked bluntly. Y/N just lifted her head a little confused at the question. She had been thinking that she was a prisoner of sorts. She didn’t exactly know how she would be treated, but definitely not like this. To be asked if she was hungry, unlike when she worked for the Germans. They pretty much told her when she was to eat, sleep, drink, use the bathroom. It was odd hearing the question after a while of just being given so many orders she was forced to do.

The young nurse didn’t understand the truth of the Americans. She wished for liberation. Prayed for it even. She was still scared she would be arrested or killed. Much like what the Russians did to the German forces. But with the company of the rather quiet, intimidating officer gave her a bit of comfort. Especially from the looks of all the men that the two walked by. The hatred filled the eyes of some, who just screamed out to blame her for helping the Germans. Y/N merely tried to ignore it, just swallowing hard and looking forward. Continuing to step through the mud.

///

When Ronald had brought Y/N to Eugene , Eugene stared up at her with surprise. “Doc, this is Y/N, she is a nurse. She is going to help you out with the wounded for now. I’m going up to HQ to figure out if we are sending her with the other prisoners or not,” he reported. Eugene just gave a respectful nod towards the officer. Y/N took a few steps towards the medic.

“I wish to help. My English isn’t the best, but I am good with my hands. I promise,” she said softly. It seemed her voice was almost permanently soft due to the harsh cold that attacked all of the soldiers. No matter what side.

Eugene just nodded and outstretched his arm to jester to the few wounded men that sat around. Y/N didn’t hesitate, she went. Kneeling in the mud and aiding a soldier that had a large shrapnel wound across the thigh and down the leg. Muttering soft prayers within her language as she began to suppress and wrap the wound.

The Officer had found himself staring. His mind was a mess. He was a close minded, but very smart man at times. Very wise for his young age. He wanted to understand. But he knew everyone had a choice. Though, he wasn’t as angry, just wanting to understand why it made her want to protect her family in a way to help the people she hated. It was a question for another time. Ronald glanced at Roe and back to the female. “If you have any problems, let me know. But other than that, keep an eye on her,” The officer spoke to the medic. Roe gave a stiff nod and looked back at his patient. A man with a bullet wound in the shoulder. And Spiers turned around and began to walk off.

As he walked, he quickly began to feel frustration bubble within himself. The image of fear etched across Y/N’s face when he had first seen her within the church, had remained burned within his mind. This was the first time he felt genuine remorse. He couldn’t tell if it was from how pretty he had found her, or the sincerity in her begging for her life. Or was it both. He hated it. He didn’t like feeling soft. Only hard and just his normal intimidating stature of an officer in charge. He wanted to brush it off, but the remorse filled his stomach with an odd feeling. He thought he was sick at first. But instead, it was butterflies. He hated it. He didn’t know why he was feeling it. But he was.

A story of love at first sight. And he didn’t know it. And neither did she.

#ronald speirs imagine #ronald speirs x reader #ron speirs #ronald speirs #bob imagine #band of brothers headcanon #incorrect band of brothers quotes #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers x reader #hbo headcanons #hbo imagines #hbo headcanon #hbo war imagine #hbo war headcanon