#ron speirs x oc

[mercurygray]

I don’t know if you’re still accepting prompts but if you are could I get a Ron and Billie Jealous au for your brand of brothers fic? Or one where Ron leaves his wife for Billie (I know it’s messy but babe I love drama and I need angst)

I'm so sorry this took so long, Maddie! I went in a slightly different direction with this, but it's a scene I've been meaning to write for a while - the two of them meeting post-war and post-everything.

Hawaii was supposed to be nice, this time of year.

That was what all the travel adverts said, anyway - not that Billie would get much of a chance to see it. Airline stewardesses didn't make enough to take a week away on the beach - an overnight in the airport hotel, perhaps a daiquiri in the bar, and then it was straight back out the next morning, listening to all those eager vacationers asking how she'd liked the sand and the surf.

But despite those setbacks Billie could honestly say that she liked her job. The pay was good, and the hours weren't terrible, and she could say that she'd been to some fabulous places over the last five years - up to and including not spending any time at home in Philadelphia with her mother, who would keep wondering aloud when she was going to get married. When are you going to meet someone, her mother kept asking. Surely there are single men on planes.

What, you mean all of those bored businessmen looking for a little heavy petting away from home? Those single men? Those were the only kind she met these days - unless you were talking about the pilots, who were just as bad at keeping commitments.

No, she wasn't going to meet anyone here, and that was just the way she liked it. At present she had no obligations and nothing to tie her down, and that was just the way she liked it, too. Billie fixed on her face in the forward galley and made her way down the aisle, offering to help 7B with her bag, and to find a souvenir plane for the little boy in 12C.

There was laughter, a few rows back - a group of officers in class As, crusher caps and all, each with an identical briefcase and a smile that only got wider as she walked by. Hawaii was probably only a stopover for them - one night at the airbase and then on to Japan. Five years ago they wouldn't have been laughing about this flight - but five years was a long time. Billie tried to move by, brushing by the one joker who was still loitering in the aisle.

"And how about you, gorgeous?" he asked with a grin. "Are you free when we get there?"

One born every minute. "Terribly sorry, gentlemen, but I have other plans."

"Aw, but are they more fun than us?" his friend asked, rising from his own seat to block her in a moment, taking one hand and wrapping his free arm around her waist, his hand resting casually on her ass. "Maybe some drinks and dancing?"

Billie felt her blood rising, felt the urge to clench her fist and punch him square in the gut starting to pick up speed. She'd be allowed, if she were somewhere else. But stewardesses had to be cleverer with their jabs. She was just mustering her very best smile when someone spoke behind her.

"Is there going to be a problem here, Captain?"

Immediately the hands dropped - and Billie's face did, too. I know that voice. "No, Major Speirs, sir. Of course not."

And then there was another man behind her, looming. "When you speak to a lady, you call her ma'am." She took a deep breath, and turned around, only to come face to face with the same familiar dark eyes she knew she'd find. "Miss Mitchell."

It was a good thing the other man had called attention to his rank, because she wouldn't have been able to see it. She was too busy looking at him. "Major Speirs." And it took every ounce of strength she had not to call him Ron, because here he was, and exactly as she remembered, and the way his voice wrapped itself around her core felt as though it were only yesterday that they'd been in bed together, chuckling over shared cigarettes.

And one of his men had been feeling her up, and he looked spitting mad about it. Or at least, as mad as Ron ever looked, which was to say he had a kind of fire behind his eyes that you wouldn't notice until it burned you.

A bell rang overhead for the captain to speak, and everyone resumed their seats - and now those eyes were following her through the whole plane.

Billie knew how she looked to men in her uniform- the pencil skirt, cut to display a tight derriere and a fine pair of legs, the tailored coat with its bracelet sleeves, the pert hat over perfect hair. But she was unsure, now, how she looked to him. Did he like tight skirts, or the look of her calves in seamed stockings and heels? Was the way she dressed her hair now still attractive? Or did he only love the woman in fatigues with her unwashed hair in a braid, the one he could ask, laughing, Has anyone told you today you're beautiful?

She didn't know. And she wasn't sure she could stand the answer if she asked.

The captain turned the loudspeaker on, mentioning the gateway, and taxiing, and takeoff, and everyone took their seats and put their seatbelts on, and the engine roared them down the jetway. Billie's stomach was already in her mouth.

Ron Speirs. On her airplane.

It wasn't quite a full flight to Hawaii - eager vacationers, anxious for the sun, businessmen talking rice and pineapple and a dozen other commodities, and the small contingent of officers, all of whom seemed to have learned their lesson the first time and refrained from saying more than two words to her as she went by. All of them - and Ron.

She brought the cart around for drinks, tidied away newspapers and magazines, and studiously avoided him until she was doing the second round of drink service and he flagged her down. The seat next to him was empty, taken up by a briefcase and his own crusher cap - the privileges of rank.

"Billie, please. Stay a moment."

"I have a job to do."

"I'll take coffee."

She poured it without thinking, straight black, nothing in it, just the same way he'd always drunk it during the war, and set the cup down in front of him. "Some cream and sugar, please," he said, and she stared for a moment before realizing what it was he was doing - creating a reason for her to stay.

"So they promoted you," she said, taking her time with the sugar. "I didn't know if you'd stay in."

"I didn't have a reason to get out," he said, and as she set the cup down and he steadied it on his table she noticed his hand was bare - no ring. "We…separated," he offered, quietly. "There was …someone who needed her more." The casual way he said it nearly broke her. "I see one of us did all right, though," he said, smiling as he gestured to the diamond solitaire on her own hand. "Who's the lucky fellow?"

She looked down at the ring like she'd forgotten it was there - because she had forgotten she had it on. Her hand clenched like that would somehow hide it. "Oh, he - he doesn't exist. Sometimes it helps with - deterrence."

"And what do you tell them about him, when they ask?"

I tell them that he's very handsome, and we met during the war, and that he's a captain in the army. "Oh, this and that. Pretty lies." She cleared her throat. "I'm sorry it didn't work out."

"I am, too." He glanced up at her with a brief smile, as if he were somehow afraid to hold her eye. "Do they give you some time for fun, after these long hauls?"

"Not much," she admitted. "But I can smell the sea, from the airport hotel, and that's usually good enough."

"They have me at the airport, too," he said vaguely. "Army travel budgets."

Down the aisle, someone else gestured, and she replaced the coffee on her cart. "Don't let me keep you," he offered, and she continued on down the row.

15C needed a gin and tonic with less emphasis on the tonic and more emphasis on the gin, and as she poured, her eyes glanced backwards down the aisle, catching a glimpse of dark eyes leaning slightly to the left, watching her from behind his hand with a different kind of fire, his coffee untouched in front of him.

Hawaii was nice, this time of year - if you had time to see any of it, that is. But five years was a long time.

(She was just hanging up her uniform when there was a knock at the door, and a pair of dark, fiery eyes behind it - tie loose, very sober. He looked her in the eye with longing. "Has anyone told you today you're beautiful?")

#asked and answered #maddiethefashionista #billie mitchell #ron speirs x oc #tds cinematic universe

[softspeirs]

Barren Soul: (13) Shaking Hands

A/N: I am back after a hundred years. Please enjoy this (medic trio-heavy) chapter - I am hoping to not take so long in between updates this time!

“Stop– stop moving, Cobb! Jesus Christ.” Kat mutters, trying to get him to sit still. He was hit during the most recent shelling - it’s not life threatening, but it’s finicky work trying to get these pieces of wood and other debris out of his wounds, and obviously painful. It’ll be more painful if she accidentally stabs him with her tweezers, though.

“God dammit that hurts.” He mutters. It’s the first words he’s said to her in weeks. He keeps to himself a lot, she’s noticed, and he obviously doesn’t like her.

She’s a little surprised he’s even letting her do this for him, rather than asking for Doc.

“It’ll hurt more if I miss anything and you get an infection,” she scolds. “Now hold still.” She sighs, trying to soften her voice. “Think of something else. Back home.”

“What’s the point in thinking of that?” He asks, almost to himself. There’s a new tone to his voice she’s never heard before.

“Okay, think of something else then. Before all this.” She gestures with her other hand to the woods around them, and he finally settles.

“Hard to remember a time before all this.” He admits.

Kat has to agree with him there - they’ve only been in the Bois Jacques forest for just over three weeks, but it’s easily been the longest three weeks of her life. The cold and the snow are the least of their worries, though Kat has been near tears at moments trying to get the feeling back in her toes and fingers. The worst part for her is the anxiety, knowing at any moment the forest could split apart with the sounds of artillery and machine gun fire. There’s absolutely no reprieve, nothing to keep them from the endless gray days and rocketing heart rates at a moment’s notice.

She and Cobb are both quiet while she works, his eyes moving from the tree line to watching her pick and tweeze. He winces a little at a particularly big piece. When she glances up, his eyes are on her face, a contemplative look there. He looks away quickly, clearing his throat.

“Where are you from, Cobb?” She asks gently. She realizes that she barely knows anything about the man.

“New York.” He responds.

“Ah,” she says with mock seriousness. “That explains the attitude. You damn Yankees.”

Read on AO3!

#barren soul fic #softspeirs band of brothers fanfiction #band of brothers fanfiction #ron speirs x oc #ron speirs x kat gray

[caseadilla111]

speirs x oc pt ii

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

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

oOoOoOoOo

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[latibvles]

SAD, BEAUTIFUL, TRAGIC.

beautiful, tragic // craving humanity

you’re like humanity, drownin’ in vanity, craving humanity

masterlist | gallery | taglist

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

SUMMARY: In the late hours of the night — all either of them want is to feel human again in a way only the other can elicit.

WARNINGS: explicit sexual content in a church no less so uh … my fault fr. difficult company gc i know i joked abt this before but i really didn’t think it'd get this far.

DEDICATIONS: to dove, for helping me pick this chapter’s title! xx

Daisy heads inside a little soon after that, to enlisted men sleeping in pews, a handful of the NCOs and officers unaccounted for, her lips still tingling and her face a little flushed as she sinks into the seat to resume letter writing, Liebgott sliding in and slumping in the pew to get some sleep.

She writes about vague snow-covered villages, and beautiful choirs, and about how she’s learning a lot so far from home.

It’s easy to work around censoring in this case — unless whoever censors their mail is also reading it for leisure. R says he’s doing fine. Don’t know how much he writes home, unfortunately. There’s a lot she could say, but some things are better said in person and there’s the embarrassing fact that even though Ron admitted to being hers, she, stupidly, didn’t say it back.

She really ought to say it.

There’s a sharp tap to her shoulder and she snaps her gaze up. The mask is back on, his piercing gaze boring into her but her heart just flutters a little in response. Next to her, Joe snores, tucked into Chuck, who’s leaned up against Talbert, like three kids at a slumber party.

“The Mother has a spot for you. Proper bed,” Looking at the Bible she’s using as a lap desk, he then adds, “Proper desk.”

“Real five star treatment then, huh?” She shoves the paper into her pocket and rises to her feet. He rolls his eyes a bit at the remark, she doesn’t miss the way the corner of his lip twitches like he’s biting back a smile.

“No room service though, staff shortages.” He starts walking out of the main room and she’s right beside him, just slightly behind.

“Damn, and here I was hoping you’d wait on me hand and foot,” He raises a brow at her, but doesn’t remark on it. They head down a hallway and round a corner. She looks over at him. “What? No quick rema—”

She’s cut off by Ron pressing his lips to hers again. His hands wrap around her waist and pull her into him, moving closer to the wall to shroud them in the dark. Daisy cups his face in her hands, kissing him back all the same, that fire lighting in her veins again. She feels… alive like this, in his arms, drinking in his heat. It's dizzying. It’s hard to imagine her desirable like this, with tangled hair and sallow skin — but he makes her feel less hollow, more human. Ron pulls away, but doesn’t let go of her, and their breaths mingle in the quiet.

“So is there actually a bed or do you plan to have your way with me in a hallway?” It’s a half jest, she lets her palm smooth out against the roughness of his cheek and she doesn’t miss the way he leans into it almost eagerly.

“There is a bed, and I’m not planning on anything. Just wasn’t done kissing you.” He turns and kisses her palm once, and then the inside of her wrist, lifting up to lace their fingers and pulling her closer into his side. Still, electricity crackles between the two of them and she’s tingling all over, face flushed and heart beating a little quicker as they approach the door. She wants to kiss him again, feel human again, in a way that doesn’t involve tears or pain or grief. She wants his hands, and his lips, and his eyes on her. He only lets go of her hand when they reach the door, and she opens it tentatively, stepping into the dim candlelight.

It’s a small room — a single bed tucked in the corner, a cross hung above it, a small desk with a bible, a lit candle, and a picture of what she assumes is one of the Saints overlooking it. The door clicks shut behind them, she hears Ron clear his throat.

“The Mother figured you’d want… a private spot. To sleep. They changed the sheets, but if there’s anything you—”

It takes two steps to turn around and crash her lips into his, hands pulling him towards her by the webbing. Although he stumbles back until he hits the door with a gentle thump, his hands find her hips, fingers digging in to leave their mark on her skin through her layers. Ron returns her kiss, mouth moving in time with hers. She exhales as she pulls away, barely, close enough to feel his breath on her face.

“Wasn’t done kissing you,” She parrots. Were it not for the frigid air and the interruption of Liebgott and the others, she could’ve kissed him for days out there. Ron just smirks, giving her hips a squeeze.

“So kiss me.” He challenges. He doesn’t need to tell her twice.

It’s… less swift than the first, more needy than the second — firm, his body curves to the shape of hers, fingers weaving in her hair as she pulls him closer by the waist. She feels a surge of confidence at that — knowing she’s not the only impatient one here, feeling his body shudder when she fiddles with the buckle holding his webbing together. She feels alive, more awake than she has in weeks.

On the most basic level, he wants her. On a much more intimate level, he always has.

Daisy pulls away, looks him in the eye. His pupils are dilated and she knows her own face is flushed.

“Do you have somewhere to be?” She asks, breathless.

“Are you asking me to stay?” Daisy nods, and Ron’s brows furrow for a moment. “Say it.” He looks over her face, in that analytical way he does. No catch here, she can’t help but smile the smallest bit, that I can promise.

“I want you to stay, Ron.” Stay tonight, stay tomorrow, stay until you’re sick of me, just stay.

He brings his mouth back to hers — forceful enough for her to stumble, but he grabs her by the hips, walking her backwards. Somewhere along the line there’s the gentle thump of him shedding his bags, his webbing, her own bag falling to the floor, between broken kisses that resume with fervor and the heavy panting between them. It’s a little like fumbling in the dark, groping at his arms, his hair, to keep him close. Her brain is fuzzy, consumed by the warmth of him and his hands grabbing at whatever they can — her thigh, her hip, her ass, cupping her face or his thumb running across her lip anytime they separate. She falls backward unceremoniously when the mattress hits the back of her knees.

She props herself up on her elbows, looks up at him. He undoes his scarf and sheds his jacket on the floor. She backs up and lets him crawl on top of her on this bed, his palms on either side of her head, holding himself up. How long had he wanted her under him like this? How long had she wanted to be under him? She didn’t have an answer.

Out of the cold, into the warmth.

“We should probably stop,” she mutters as her hand reaches up to caress his face — palm brushing against the rough stubble, running her thumb over his bottom lip and feeling his hot breath against her palm.

“Do you want to stop?” He asks, more breathless than she’s ever seen him. The top two buttons of his shirt are open, exposing a bit of his neck and collarbones to her. The entirety of him is undone in a way she’s never seen — lips a little red from her kisses, hair even messier from her fingers, the bulge in his pants apparent everytime he so much as shifts against her. A sense of pride swells in her chest.

“No. I don’t.” She whispers, spreading her legs a bit further to accommodate him — as much as she can on the bed.

“Have you ever..?” Daisy nods, her face flushing for a moment. She’d never told him that before.

“Once with Arthur before we broke up. Couple times in college. I’m not big on one-nights.” Ron raises a curious brow at that.

“And this…” he begins.

“You are more than just a one-night, Ronald.” Ron gives her a wolfish grin as he lowers to his elbows, slotted neatly between her hips, lips and nose brushing against hers.

“Damn right I am.” He mutters. Daisy laughs and rolls her eyes, as Ron brings his mouth back onto hers. There’s a bit of fumbling with pants and buckles, frantic untying of boots and trying to just get the necessary garments out of the way. His hand finds its way into her underwear at some point, and Daisy bites hard on that exposed bit of collarbone when his fingers circle her bundle of nerves with precision, desperate to be quiet as he touches her in ways that have her keening into his palm.

He fumbles with the condom and she fails to withhold a snort but Ron smiles at her in a way that makes her stomach flip more than the act itself.

Daisy thinks she could get drunk off the sound of his quiet sigh when he eases into her. She wraps her legs around his waist to keep him there, he presses his forehead to her own and wastes no time in pulling out before thrusting back into her with a suppressed groan.

It’s a little desperate, just needing him as close as she can get him — her hips rolling to meet his, trying to find a rhythm that works for both of them. The thump of the headboard, as soft as it is, is the only thing grounding her in reality. At some point his fingers go back to circling her clit harshly and she’s undone more of his buttons to kiss and bite where no one else can see. He whispers her name like a prayer — she thinks that’s almost enough to send her over the edge on its own.

“Say it again,” she pleads, her own voice barely above a whisper. “My— my name. Say it—”

“Daisy.” Ron groans into her neck, with a roll of his hips that leaves her gasping and biting her lip to suppress it, wrapping her arms and legs around him tighter. He’s kissing her neck and her cheek all over like he’s fighting back the urge to bite.

“God, right there Ron,” Daisy pants, tangling her fingers in his hair and pulling slightly for him to lift his head, turning to look at him. She brings her mouth back to his as he repeats the motion. With each roll of his hips he swallows a noise that would otherwise get them caught.

When she finishes, it’s with a trembling sigh silenced by his lips and Ron quickly chases his own release after that. She muffles his groan with her lips again when he hits his release, and he falls onto her, spent, caging her body with his, both of them panting in the silence. Ron tilts his head to look at her, and she smiles at the flush on his face, the hair sticking to his forehead.

She leans forward to bump their noses. Ron chuckles.

“You’re unreal.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Ron quirks a brow, amused, pulling out and sitting on the edge of the bed to roll the condom off and dispose of it in the wastebin, tucking himself back into his pants, before running a hand up her calf. He stops at her bent knee, presses a kiss to it, then moves to grab her pants and underwear by the waistbands. She’s never felt prettier. Daisy finds herself grinning a bit at the bite marks littering the small portion of his exposed chest.

“By who? Lift up.” He asks. She lifts her hips, lets him slide her pants and underwear up and over.

“You. In Holland,” She moves a bit on the mattress to let him slide back into place. Ron grabs her, and shifts so they’re a tangle of limbs on the twin, and she’s practically half on top of him. She looks up at him, from her new spot on his chest. “You asked me if I was a dream.”

“Pretty fair question that night, I think,” he mutters, fingers grazing her cheek. “You were holding my hand. Put your jacket around me.”

“You were shivering.”

“Well,” he leans forward to kiss the crown of her head. “I’m not anymore.” Daisy smiles, heart swelling a bit as she looks over his face. She almost wishes she had a camera to capture it — the softness in his eyes, the content half-smile, the flush to his face. Beautiful. She doesn’t have a camera, so she opts for lifting a hand to drag her fingertips over his brow, down the bridge of his nose and over all his sharp edges, not missing the way his face seems to flush darker and he leans into it.

“Me neither,” she murmurs in agreement, staring at him for a few, long moments, biting her lip. “And I… meant what I said. About… this— us… not being a one time thing and I know we kind of talked about it outside but…” she takes a measured breath, sitting up a little straighter to look him in the eye. “I’m yours, Ron. I just… I wanted you to hear it.”

For a moment he says nothing, staring at her with that same sort of soft expression. Then he lifts a hand, tucking some of the strands of her hair back, and nodding once.

“I’ll take my time next time,” he says with a smirk, and before she has a chance to swat at him, he’s messing with the covers to get them both under them and coaxing her back onto his chest. “And… I like the sound of it. Mine. Us. Sounds about right.”

The statement makes her heart skip a beat, the way he says it so casually, and she has to remind herself that he’s been dealing with his feelings for a long while. She still smiles at that, wrapping her arms around his middle, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat against her ear.

Tomorrow, they would start the long ride home to Mourmelon, and there would be a mountain of things to face — the dead, the living, the wounded, letters from home, all which has snowballed since they set out for Bastogne in December. But if Ron’s arm wrapping around her and keeping her close is indicative of anything: she isn’t alone in the matter, and for tonight, that’s more than enough.

And for the first time in a long time, it’s a comfortable and inviting sleep that overtakes her, as his heartbeat lulls her into a sense of security she’s only ever known with him.

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

[brassknucklespeirs]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɴɢᴇʟ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ: ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴇɪɢʜᴛ ᴏꜰ ɪɴᴀᴅᴇQᴜᴀᴄʏ

Ronald Speirs x OC

“I was a daughter when he wanted another son, and here I am, being pulled into this position that is usually filled by a man, constantly told I will never be enough because I am a woman. As if that would phase me anymore, he’s made me aware that is what he has thought of me my whole life. [...] Maybe he will be proud of me when I come home in a body bag; even then, I very much doubt it.” - Vienna Matthews

ᴏʀ

In which the army has already begun training women as soldiers, only for the paratrooper regiments to decide they would like to do the same, starting with Vienna Matthews’ transfer to Easy Company

Warning: Mentions and detailed depiction of war, blood, abuse, trauma, sexism, daddy issues, expression of extreme emotions that may be triggering

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

coming soon...

#screaming crying throwing up #i'm super scared to release this but also it gotta be done #band of brothers #ron speirs x oc #ronald speirs x oc #band of brothers fanfic #ronald speirs fluff

[1waveshortofashipwreck]

Should've Been Born Later, Nix - Chapter 2: The Hospital

Easy Company x Fem!OCs

Chap. Synopsis: What will happen when Easy Company has to navigate the emergency room to help Malarkey?

Words: 3,732

Find the fic's navigation page here !!

Have a question/want to be on the taglist? Let me know !!

Author's Note: Hi y'all! Thank you all so much for reading Chap 1, I truly did not expect the fic to get the reception that it did 🥺💕 y'all are absolutely amazing and I can't wait to share more of the story with you!! (Link to picrew in collage)

The walk to the hospital was uneventful, unless you count the stares of passersby and Nixon struggling to understand how to cross the street. When it came time to cross the busy street to arrive at the hospital, the men were halted by a red hand shining across from them on a small, strange screen. When Nixon looked at the pole to his right, he noticed a button with the words "push to cross" written above it. Naturally, the man pressed the button. A deep, assertive voice sounded from the button, instructing the men to "WAIT." "Why is it telling us to wait?" Luz questioned indignantly, still rubbing the spot where Malarkey kicked him.

"So we don't get run over?" Guarnere posed to the group in his South Philly accent. Before anyone could affirm this, the red hand disappeared from the screen and was replaced by what appeared to be a person walking. Traffic was stopped, and the men were free to cross. As quickly as they could, the men made their journey across the street. Toye was the last one to complete the crossing, still being on the asphalt when the intimidating red hand reappeared. This earned the man a jarring "honk" from the driver closest to them. Toye whipped around in shock, instinctively reaching for his weapon before remembering where they were - or rather, where they were not.

Finally, the men made it to the entrance of the hospital. While Winters and Nixon tried to look for a handle to open the glass doors in front of them, they were astonished to see the doors slide open on their own as someone was walking past them, out of the hospital. Nixon shot Winters a look - one of bewilderment, wonder, and most visibly, exasperation. Winters simply replied with an amused smile before leading his men into the hospital lobby.

Dick and Easy Company didn't get far before a stocky man wearing a polo saying "Hospital Security" put his hand on Winters' chest, stopping the men from going further and making Dick rather uncomfortable. "Woah there buddy, you can't bring those in here, sick world war 2 replicas though," the man stated, more at Dick rather than to him. The man punctuated his sentence with a gesture towards the rifles carried by Toye, Guarnere, and Speirs. Each word the man said was more confusing than the last - you can't bring your weapons in? What is World War 2? And why was it "sick?"

"Um…what do we do with them?" Dick replied. It was not the best thing he could have said, but he was still trying to wrap his head around how a gun can have an illness.

"I don't care what you do with them, they just can't come in here," the man replied bluntly. Winters nodded and led his men back outside. They were alone again. 

"Sir, can we hide them behind these bushes?" Malarkey asked, pointing over Roe's shoulder to a line of thick, opaque bushes next to the hospital entrance. Checking to make sure no one was around, Winters nodded his head and started putting all his gear behind the bush.

"Nix, help me take their gear. Helmets and all weapons come off, men," Dick instructed the soldiers, Nixon assisting Malarkey and his supporters before getting rid of his own gear. The men felt naked without their supplies, but they needed to help Malarkey.

The men returned to the hospital lobby, the security guard from earlier giving them an approving nod before stepping aside. He outstretched his hand in the direction of the hospital front desk, quickly receiving a nod of thanks from each of the men as they walked past him.

"How can I help you?" The lady sitting behind the desk asked, continuing to stare at the papers littering her desk.

"My friend has a broken rib that needs to be tended to," Winters explained hesitantly, gesturing for Roe and Speirs to bring Malarkey up to the front.

"Name?" The receptionist asked, turning to a set of buttons that seemed to resemble a typewriter - next to the buttons seemed to be some kind of television, the boys deduced, even though the screen seemed extraordinarily flat.

"Donald Malarkey, ma'am," the redhead replied, wincing as Speirs adjusted his shoulder.

"Date of birth?"

"7/21/1921."

The receptionist gave him a look that could only convey the most intense form of irritation known to man. "Very funny, how old are you?" She continued, her tone indicating she was not the least bit amused.

Poor Malarkey, unsure of how he had said something wrong, simply winced in pain and replied, "I'm 23 ma'am." Making no indication that she heard Don answer her question, the receptionist clicked away on her buttons before a strand of glossy paper printed from a device connected to her television.

"Your wrist please," she instructed, holding out the paper like a bracelet. Looking at Winters for approval, Malarkey hesitantly unwrapped his arm from Speirs' shoulder and held out his wrist - the receptionist promptly wrapped the paper around him, sealing it with what seemed to be a sticky piece at the end. "Have a seat, they'll call you when they're ready," she told none of the men in particular as she went back to staring at the papers on her desk. Looking down at the paper band, Malarkey saw that it had his name and birthday beside a barcode. However, Don noticed a mistake - his birthday. Instead of 1921, the year read 2000. This just confirmed the thought all of the men were praying not to be true.

The injured redhead whispered a quiet "fuck" under his breath before being led to the waiting area by Roe and Speirs. With several seats around the large waiting room already occupied, the men agreed to have Roe and Malarkey take a seat while the rest stood next to them. Taking in his surroundings, Winters' eyes landed on a lady talking to the woman behind the desk. Her hair seemed to be…blue? As Dick unintentionally stared at the girl, trying to understand why she would have blue hair, the lady looked up, and their eyes met. The color of her eyes matched that of her hair - a deep, ultramarine blue. Dick only realized he was staring when he saw the shock and bewilderment in the girl's eyes - she quickly returned the way she came as Winters pondered how eyes could be so blue.

"Smooth," Nixon commented, leaning against the wall next to Winters. A choked chuckle came from the floor next to Eugene's seat, where Liebgott and Luz were trying everything not to laugh at their Captain's comment. Winters simply rolled his eyes at his men, of course they would think he was infatuated with the girl.

"I'm gonna go look around," Speirs said before wandering off on his own, not even giving Winters a second to approve the decision.

"Don't go far!" Nixon called out after the officer, sarcasm subtle but clear in his voice. Ron looked back with a nod of his head before disappearing around a corner. Ron Speirs was always one to do his own thing, and heaven help the person who stood in his way. The nine men tried their best to relax in the crowded waiting room, listening to the television in the far corner spout out words like "Google" and "wifi" before showing an advertisement for gadgets that felt entirely fake. The most impactful item was decidedly something called Bluetooth earbuds.

"I think it's real guys… I think we're really in 2023," Guarnere muttered helplessly - Nothing ever seemed to rattle the Italian American, but for the first time, the soldiers saw Guarnere be just that. Sitting on the floor, Guarnere’s back was back against the wall facing Roe and Malarkey. Luz and Liebgott were sitting next to the medic and redhead on the floor, George resting his head on the side of Roe’s seat. Toye could be found pacing in the corner next to the vending machines, Nixon needing to shift his position in order to avoid being run over. Bull was sitting next to Winters, his mountainous figure somehow becoming comfortable on the narrow window sill framing the glass displaying the vast parking lot.

"How could that have happened though? It doesn't make any fucking sense!" Liebgott spat out in frustration. This earned him several glares from his group, their eyes telling him to keep it down. Liebgott rolled his own eyes before continuing in a quieter tone, "One minute, we were dropping into a foxhole for cover, and the next, were 79 years into the fucking future? Tell me how that fucking works." The rifleman's tone became more irritated the more he realized how unreal this all was.

"Better yet, how the fuck do we get back to the rest of Easy?" Toye's tone matched the rifleman's in irritation, but the spitfire in Toye's tone caused the question to come across as venomous. Bull appeared to be the only enlisted man not about to lose his mind, once again chewing on his Emotional Support Cigar.

"Bull, how the fuck are you so calm?" Luz asked the mountain of a man, his nickname making sense without any verbal explanation.

"Just following orders, I know the captains will take care of us," Bull replied casually, nodding towards Captain Winters and Captain Nixon. The two officers smiled while Winters nodded in gratitude.

"I appreciate the trust, Bull," Dick replied, praying that he could live up to that trust and get his boys home safe.

"Malarkey!" A booming voice called at the front of the room, causing the named man to twirl around in his seat. He and the rest of the soldiers turned to see a man holding a clipboard, signaling for Malarkey to follow him. Eugene helped Don to his feet and all nine of them started walking over. "Woah woah, only one of y'all can go back with him," the man said, holding his hands up in protest. The men all exchanged glances of confusion and worry - their constant state since arriving here - before Winters instructed Roe to accompany his injured soldier. As the captain watched his two men disappear behind a door, a small voice in the back of his head prayed he would see them again.

While the men waited for Malarkey in the waiting room, Speirs had been wandering around the cavernous halls of the hospital. Unfortunately, his solo mission has proven to provide more questions than answers. All around himself, Ron was confronted with inventions, words, and people that seemed to be out of a moving picture. From men and women wearing strange clothes, to machines beeping as if to speak their own language, Speirs felt as if he were on another planet. The officer was snapped from his thoughts when he heard a hushed voice say names that he recognized - Winters, Nixon, Liebgott, Toye.

"I'm telling you Chrys, they look exactly like Easy Company! It has to be them!" The voice spoke emphatically. Speirs cautiously searched around the hallways, coming across a small alcove where a lady with bright blue hair was talking into what appeared to be a small rectangle. She was using it as a phone, Speirs assumed, but it looked nothing like any phone he had ever seen. Speirs ducked behind the wall, not daring to venture too close to the edge, lest he be caught by the woman. "Dude you need to get down here, I promise it's the guys," the lady said a bit louder, assuming she was alone. A brief pause occurred before Speirs heard her say, "Sweet! Text me when you get here! Love you!"

He suddenly heard footsteps coming in his direction, causing the man to glue himself to the wall, praying that she passed his hallway without a glance. His prayers were answered as he saw the mop of blue hair walk past him and turn down one of the labyrinthian hallways, paying the officer no mind. Speirs proceeded to dart back the way he came, bumping into doctors and patients alike before descending a familiar flight of stairs and returning to the waiting room. The officer drew every pair of eyes to him as he ran across to where his men were waiting on Malarkey and Roe.

"I think we have a problem sir," Ron said to Dick, his voice remained monotone, but the captain could see urgency in his eyes. Speirs recounted his experience in a hushed tone to his commanding officer.

"So she knows we're here sir?" Toye interjected after hearing the officer's story. His tone imitated the facial expressions of all the men - they were unsure whether to be relieved or terrified.

“Looks like it, I have no clue how, I highly doubt she’s from … our time,” Speirs replied, hesitant to say something that sounded like it could be from a fantasy story. “What do you want us to do, sir?” Ron asked, looking at the redheaded captain. Dick paused and thought for several moments, his men awaiting his response with bated breath.

“We need to find out what she knows. Best case scenario she can help us… worst case, she’s the reason we’re here,” Winters explained. “Speirs, Liebgott, go find her and figure out what she knows. If you can do it without arousing suspicion, try and bring her back here,” he instructed the two. The men nodded in understanding before the man with the clipboard reappeared.

“Malarkey family? He’s been admitted to a bed, you can come back now,” the man said, gesturing for Easy Company to follow him. Winters quickly leaned in to whisper to Speirs.

“Try and have her lead you to where we are, she probably works here and knows her way around,” the captain explained quickly before following his men back behind a mysterious door, the same one that Malarkey and Roe walked through earlier. As the door slowly swung shut, Speirs led Liebgott to where he overheard the conversation. The walls were decorated with bright colors and strange cartoon characters - maybe undersea animals? Except for one that looked like what the two could only describe as a squirrel in a spacesuit.

“What happened to the good cartoons?” Liebgott mused, processing all of the decorations - it was clear to the two that they were in the children’s wing of the hospital.

“Beats the hell out of me,” Ron replied to Joe, trying his best to be casual as he made his way around the corner. There was a big desk area in the center of the floor, with hallways splaying out like spokes on a wheel. Behind the desk were men and women wearing similar clothes with name badges attached at collars, pockets, and sleeves. On the wall behind the desk was a white message board appearing to have been written on with a marker. The board read:

Welcome to East Raleigh Hospital

Pediatrics Wing!

Date: Wednesday, August 23, 2023

Doctor: Damien Livingston, MD Ped.

Nurses: Dakota Brandt, RN

Reagan Morgan, RN

Azalea “Zay” Bennett, RN

“Zay! Room 303 needs you!” the man sitting behind the desk called behind him, typing away on what Liebgott and Speirs assumed was another weird typewriter.

“Coming!” Joe and Ron’s heads whipped around to see their target speed walking into a patient room with a sign on the wall reading “303.” Her azure hair was tied into a short but bouncy ponytail, black glasses framing her eyes that matched her hair in color. Her clothes were similar to the rest of the employees in the hospital - a shirt with a multitude of pockets and cuffed pants with cargo pockets. The girl’s look was finished with a stethoscope laying around her neck and a pair of scissors hanging off a loop on her pants. The pastel pink of her uniform was a prominent but pleasing contrast to the saturated color of her hair.

“There’s our girl,” Joe Liebgott mused, leaning against the wall, unable to stop a smile from growing on his face. “What do you wanna do, sir?” he asked Captain Speirs, turning his head to look at the superior officer. Speirs continued looking thoughtfully at the room, and Liebgott could see the wheels turning as he figured out what to do.

“Sublest thing to do would be to wait until she takes a break, but I’ve never known Doc, or any medic for that matter, to take a break of his own volition,” Speirs mused. Sure, Zay may not have been a doctor, but Speirs could still not remember a time where he saw anyone at an aid station choose to leave their patients.

“Would there be any other reason she’d leave the floor?” Joe responded, keeping an eye on room 303. Just then, a voice came over the hospital speakers calling “code blue, room 350.” In the blink of an eye, medical staff could be seen speeding down the hall past the boys, Zay along with them.

Speirs gave Liebgott a knowing look before both of them speedily followed the group. The pair passed a door with a small window, showing the room to be empty, save for a table with a couple of chairs. Testing the doorknob as they passed it, the door slowly creaked open. In a flurry of surprisingly silent motion, Speirs grabbed Zay around the waist, using his other hand to cover her mouth before whirling into the room. Liebgott quickly shut the door behind them and kept an eye out the window as Speirs shoved the nurse against the wall, his hand still covering her mouth.

Speirs’ eyes pierced into hers, shock and fright evident on the girl’s face. “No more hiding, blue,” Speirs whispered threateningly to Zay, her fear only intensifying. “I’m going to remove my hand, and when I do, you’re going to tell us what you know about Easy Company and how you know it. And don’t pretend you don’t know anything, we heard you say our names earlier. If you scream, try to fight, or try to run, this is going to end very badly for you, understand?” Zay nodded as best she could, Speirs’ hand limiting her head’s range of motion. Slowly, Ron took his hand off of her mouth, staring expectantly, and scarily, at the nurse.

Speirs and Liebgott were unsure what they expected Zay to say, but her answer to Speirs’ command was definitely not it. “You’re on TV,” she spoke in a low, shaky voice. “T-the show, there’s a show, it features Easy Company,” While the words themselves were difficult to believe, Ron saw honesty in her eyes.

“So you’re telling me that there’s a TV show about us, and it tells everyone everything about us,” he replied, once again hating how fantastical everything happening around him was. The nurse nodded her head, slowly becoming more confident.

“Why do you want to know?” She asked, confusion joining the fright still evident in her expression. Speirs scoffed at the question.

“You telling me us going through the foxhole isn’t on the show?” he challenged the nurse. The muscles in Zay’s face scrunched as she listened to the officer.

“What do you mean going through the foxhole?”

The officer thought for a moment, debating whether or not to share more information with the stranger. Grumbling in frustration, Ron decided it was worth the risk, “In Bastogne, a bunch of us jumped into a foxhole after we saw Doc Roe drop in and not come out.” Zay’s eyes grew wide as she listened to Speirs. After a moment, her expression changed to one of irritation. The adrenaline had subsided, and Zay’s common sense kicked in - there was no way the characters from Band of Brothers were here, holding her hostage in the patient-conference room.

“Look, your costumes are great, but I need to get back to my patients,” she said as she attempted to walk past Speirs. As Zay started to move, the officer forcibly shoved her shoulders back against the wall, effectively pinning her. His tall figure towered over her, and Zay could feel her fear rising once again.

“Why the fuck would we be lying about this?” he asked with agitation.

“Alright, prove to me you’re from the 1940s,” Zay instructed with as much courage as she could muster. Speirs thought for a moment before Liebgott spoke up.

“I think I got something that can prove it,” he explained before patting his pockets, searching for something. Zay and Speirs watched the soldier as he pulled out a pack of Lucky Strike cigarettes and a dollar bill. Both, while appearing relatively new, showed the date. On the bottom of the Lucky Strikes, the year next to the copyright symbol read 1944. Likewise, the dollar bill displayed a print date of 1944. Zay gulped as she stared at the evidence - her favorite TV show has come to life right before her.

“Alright, I believe y’all,” she responded with a shaky voice. “H-how many of y’all are here?” Zay asked as Speirs’ grip on her shoulders relaxed.

“There’s ten of us - Winters, Nixon, Guarnere, Toye, Bull, Luz, Roe, Malarkey, Speirs, and me,” Liebgott explained, Zay nodding in understanding. Liebgott continued to explain how they fell into an alley, and how they made the trek to the hospital after Luz landed on Malarkey. Speirs wanted to reprimand Liebgott for giving away so much information, but the air of kindness and honesty around the blue-haired girl put the officer at ease.

“So y’all really have no clue where you are or how you got here…” Zay thought aloud after Joe explained everything to her. Ron and Joe shook their heads, indicating their lack of knowledge. “Would y’all be willing to take me to captain Winters? If it’s okay, I’d be happy to help you guys if I can,” Zay offered shyly, still rather intimidated by Speirs.

Speirs nodded before replying, “We’re not really sure where he is, the guy with the clipboard just said that Malarkey was admitted to a bed and then led the rest of the guys behind a door.” The nurse gave the soldiers a warmhearted smile as she responded.

“I know where he is, just follow me,” the blue-haired girl said, Speirs finally allowing her to slide past him. Liebgott politely opened the door for her as the two soldiers followed the nurse out and down the hall.

~~~~~

Chapter One | Chapter 3

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

Thank you again for reading! Be on the lookout for Chapter 3 coming next week! ✨

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

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She was almost certainly going to get him in trouble.

He found he didn't care.

"This way."

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

[mccall-muffin]

Account for allrounder fandoms @its-all-or-nothing94

Joe Liebgott Love vs. Hate - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7 , Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23 , Part 24 (Ongoing) Better late than never - Part 1, Part 2 (Completed) Will you? (Secret Santa gift)

Don Malarkey The other Side (OneShot) Blind (OneShot)

Dick Winters I can't come to the pacific with you (OneShot)

Ron Speirs You are loved (OneShot) Panic (OneShot) Hard desicions (One Shot)

Babe Heffron Little Kitty - Part 1, Part 2, Christmas Special (Completed)

Carwood Lipton What lasts long finally becomes good (OneShot, Request) The things you don't know - Prologue, Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3 (Ongoing)

Joe Toye The price I pay (OneShot, Request)

Eugene Roe You oughta know (OneShot, Request)

John "Bucky" Egan The Lady and the Major - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 (Complete)

#Band of Brothers #Fanfics #OneShots #BandofBrotherslove #Joe Liebgott #Don Malarkey #Dick Winters #Coming Soon #Don Malarkey x Reader #Joe Liebgott x Reader #Dick Winters x Reader #Joe Liebgott x OC #Bandofbrothersedit #BoBedit #hbo war #donald malarkey #Ron Speirs #Babe Heffron #Ron Speirs x Reader #Babe Heffron x Reader #Carwood Lipton x Reader #Carwood Lipton #Joe Toye x Reader #Joe Toye #Eugene Roe x Reader #Eugene Roe #John Egan #John “Bucky” Egan #Bucky Egan x reader #Masters of the Air

[basilone]

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

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

The Russian was all he was going to get.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He paints her from memory, in blue.

She shows up the next morning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe that’s why he kisses her this time.

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

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

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

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

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

[satellitespeirs]

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

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

[bellewintersroe]

Band of brothers masterlist 🤍🩷🤍

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

All boys: general hc’s:

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

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

Easy boys x reader in Bastogne.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Part 2.

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

Ron Speirs:

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

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

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

Part 1.

Part 2.

Part 3.

Part 4.

Part 5.

Part 6.

Part 7.

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

Part 1.

Part 2.

Joe Liebgott:

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

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

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

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

Babe Heffron:

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

Eugene Roe:

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

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

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

Floyd Talbert:

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

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

Talbert + Christenson headcanons.

James ‘Moe’ Alley:

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

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

Skip Muck:

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

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

Chuck Grant:

Chuck x nurse reader headcanons.

Chuck Grant x reader smut.

Alton More:

More x nurse reader headcanons. Shifty Powers:

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

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

Dick Winters:

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

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

[softspeirs]

Barren Soul: (12) Paris

A/N: I've decided I'm not going to apologize for how long it takes me to write, edit, and get a chapter prepped for posting. I am sorry, but I know anyone left reading this is tired of hearing it. Well -- here we are. Please note; we're playing fast and loose with canon from this point forward, especially in terms of where certain members of Easy were at different points in time. I'm not changing anything major in terms of the story, but just wiggling the timeline a little bit so certain characters can interact more. If you're still reading this, please leave a comment - they mean the world to me!

Before long, Easy are on the line and facing combat missions nearly every day. They’re taking heavy fire from the Germans, and casualties are high.

Kat starts to feel numb to it. She misses the worried glances over the top of her head from the other members of her squad when she doesn’t react to a joke or even someone asking her a question. Sometimes it takes them saying her name two or three times before she gets out of her head long enough to formulate a robotic response.

The same day Alley is hit at the crossroads, Major Horton is killed. Winters gets promoted. It’s well-deserved, and comes after one of the most nerve wracking battles they’ve faced so far - Easy against an entire regiment - likely all SS.

That was the same night Liebgott had come to the aid station nearly at his breaking point. Seeing him like that had done something to Kat, too. People are starting to notice, even their new CO who Kat barely knows.

Lieutenant Heyliger is a good officer, and Kat likes him. He’s sure of himself, but Kat still feels like they’re going to be missing a limb without Winters in the field.

Heyliger seems to be clued into the fact that Kat needs a wide berth right now, and he barely knows her. Since he’s taken over, he’s made an effort to make small talk and keep her in the loop now that he’s Easy’s CO, but she can’t find it in her to respond the way she’d like to - she’s distant, doesn’t want to get attached. It’s not like her.

A small voice in the back of her mind is ringing warning bells, but it gets quieter with each day that passes. She’s not sure there’s even a word for it. She’s just– she feels nothing.

It comes to a head one day after it takes her too long to respond to calls for a medic. She doesn’t mean for it to happen, but she freezes. Literally and figuratively, she feels cold. Feels like she’s outside of her body, watching everything happen as if she’s not there.

Luckily, Spina and Roe take over, and no one seems to notice. At least, that’s what she thinks. It’s not until they’re under the cover of darkness that someone slides into her foxhole. She tenses, but relaxes when she sees Compton’s easy smile, though there’s something a little tentative about it now.

“Gray,” he says, his voice rough. The way he’d been screaming orders all day, she’s surprised he hasn’t lost it entirely.

“Sir,” she says, moving over to make some room. “Do you need help?”

He squints at her. “Was going to ask you the same thing.”

She flushes. “Sir?”

Compton has always been a good leader. She’s never been under his direct leadership, but she sees the difference he makes to the company. It’s a little unnerving to have his undivided attention, especially after he’s just back from being in the hospital. She fights back the instinct to ask him if he’s okay, because he’s clearly got something on his mind.

“Kat, I don’t really know how to say this nicely, so I’m just going to say it. You haven’t been yourself lately, and it’s starting to affect your squad.”

A swooping sensation starts in her stomach. Embarrassment.

“You’re not the only one going through this–” he stutters, eyes going a little glassy in that way they’ve all noticed lately, “We need you. You ignored a call for a medic today, and it isn’t the first time that’s happened this week.”

Tears start to well in her eyes, but she refuses to let them fall. It’s almost like a fog clears in her brain, and she starts to see what’s been happening to her probably since before Carentan.

He continues, “You’re too damn good at your job to let yourself get swept away by the emotions of it. I know it’s hard. Hell, I’ve had more than one day where I wanted nothing more than to drown myself in a bottle of good whiskey. But we can’t do that.” Again, his face closes off, a shadow sliding over his features. It’s been happening more and more since he was wounded in Nuenen, but it’s gone as soon as she notices it.

Kat starts to cry in earnest now. Briefly, Compton looks alarmed, but then he shifts gears. He scoots closer until he can rest his hand on her shoulder. “Alright, let it out, Gray.”

She does.

Read the full chapter on AO3 here!

#barren soul fic #ron speirs x oc #ron speirs x kat gray #band of brothers fanfiction

[caseadilla111]

speirs x oc

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

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

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

oOoOoOoOo

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

That is, until she walked through those doors.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[latibvles]

HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

DECEMBER 24TH, 1953 — in which Daisy and the kids head up to Philadelphia to celebrate Christmas with the Winters family, sans Ron, who couldn’t get away from Fort Bragg to celebrate the holiday.

WARNINGS: Nothing, except it gets suggestive at the end — but not extremely explicit. Calling Ron by his rank has consequences idk..

TAGS: @brassknucklespeirs who asked for the Christmas Special, AAAND @liebgotts-lovergirl , @softguarnere , @galaxialuz — some sweet DaisRon winter feels for this Christmas <3

“Oh, Dais, would you pass me that? Thank you.” Daisy grabs one of the pretty ceramic bowls, sliding it over the counter to Ginny, who takes it with a smile. Outside, she can hear their boys letting out “battle cries” as they try to knock Dick into the snow. Inside, Laura lays out on the floor, the two year old all tuckered out from playing all morning.

“Careful, I think Robbie might kill your husband,” Daisy snickers, watching through the window as her son latches onto Dick’s calf, fresh powder pluming around him with every step the man takes.

“Just like his dad,” Ginny responds with a bit of a chuckle, before going back to dumping spices into the ceramic bowl. She gives Daisy a glance. “How is Ron doing, by the way?”

Daisy’s smile becomes a little more sullen, glancing down at the countertop for a moment.

“Mad as all hell,” Daisy admits. “He kept apologizing on the phone, I told him to stop worrying about it.”

“I mean, if Dick pulled out a sexy red velvet number last Christmas for me to unwrap I’d be pretty upset to miss out too.” Daisy lightly slaps her friend’s arm, looking back at her daughter as Ginny continues to giggle to herself. Her own face flared up at the memory. It was, for all purposes, Rita’s idea — an early parcel last Christmas that had a little red dress that hardly covered anything, adored with pretty white fur at the top and bottom, and around the cuffs. She’d given Rita an earful about it, her face flushed but… still tried it on. Just to see.

Needless to say the festivities didn’t really stop after they put the kids to bed.

“He calls every night to talk to the kids. Tries to anyway.” Daisy goes to grab the eggs from Ginny’s fridge, and continues to observe as she makes her attempt at gingerbread cookies so the boys could decorate them.

“Are you mad?” Ginny asks with a raised brow.

“At his job? Yes. At him? No.” Daisy’s reply is immediate. They knew what they were getting into when they married — knew they’d be moving around a lot, that his work would take him away from her for extended periods of time. She’d been especially upset when he was deployed to Korea, but even then, they made it work. Now he was at Fort Bragg, she and the kids lived in Tennessee, and they still did their best to make it work.

A testament to that fact was that this is only the second time Ron ever missed a Christmas. He’d been adamant that Daisy still went up to Pennsylvania with the kids, to stay with Dick and Ginny and celebrate anyway, so at least she wasn’t doing the whole “Santa” thing by herself this year.

“You’re a lot stronger than I am, I’ll give you that.”

“He’s not dead Gin, he’s just working.”

“I know I just… well, how’s Robbie taking it?”

Daisy hums in thought, taking half of the dough to cut into little gingerbread men.

The first time Robbie could remember seeing Ron in uniform, he squealed in delight, begging Ron to let him wear his hat (and he did, marching around their living room and demanding that his father give him twenty push ups, which he did with the little boy on his back). Now that he was in kindergarten he liked to tell everyone Ron was a superhero and that he “punched bad guys in the face” for a job. When Robbie asked Ron why he wouldn’t be home — they told him he had to train future superheroes.

He took it well enough, and Ron calling so frequently seemed to help.

“I don’t think he gets it entirely just yet, we’ve been… explaining bit-by-bit what Daddy actually does.” Daisy admits with a bit of a shrug, twisting her silver wedding band for a few moments. Outside, she can hear Robbie holler, and next to her Ginny snickers.

“You sure Ron hasn’t been teaching him combat maneuvers in his free time? He nearly took out Dick’s ankles.”

“Yeah, he actually came out practicing his Foy run,” Daisy remarks sarcastically, and Ginny snorts at that, rolling her eyes.

“Have you met his mother? With all that crazy in him I wouldn’t doubt it.”

Daisy looks up for a moment, able to pinpoint her son’s bright red cap. Little Alan hangs off of his father’s shoulders with a toothy grin, and Dick picks Robbie up by the pits to lift him high in the air. He shrieks excitedly, kicking and squirming in Dick’s hold. She then looks at Ginny, who’s resting her chin on her palm to watch the man with a distant sort of smile. She looks down, and gently pokes her friend’s tummy.

“So do you think it’s gonna be a boy or a girl?” she asks. Ginny turns to look at Daisy again, rolling her eyes.

“Dick wants a girl since Al’s such a momma’s boy. I think it’s gonna be another boy, but what do I know? I’m just the one carrying it.”

“Careful, keep talking so sweetly and someone might think you like your husband.”

“Yeah, just don’t tell him that, it's supposed to be a secret.” Ginny responds with equal sarcasm, and Daisy laughs.

It’s then that they hear another shriek, but not the shrill sound of laughter, and a ‘Daddy!’ Daisy peers out the window and watches Robbie take off down the lawn, with Dick hot on his heels, Alan in his arms, towards—

“No way,” Daisy whispers, and Ginny practically pushes her to get her shoes on, scooping Laura into her arms as Daisy takes off out the door after the three men.

By the time she reaches the lawn, she’s already a bit misty-eyed.

Ron presses kisses to Robbie’s cheek, his hat lopsided on their son’s head. Robbie’s smiling from ear-to-ear, dimples prominent, prattling all about what they’ve done in the three days they’ve been in Philly — as if he didn’t tell Ron about all these things on the phone. His eyes find hers and he chuckles, walking forward with their son in his arms.

“I thought…” she whispers, her voice trembling.

“So did I, managed to pull a few strings. The people on base like me,” he leans down, kissing her sweetly and she can’t stop smiling. He bumps their noses as he pulls away. “Gonna catch a cold, out here in that sweater.” Ron warns. Daisy just smiles a little wider.

“I’ve got you here to keep me warm, don’t I?” As Ginny passes her their daughter and she reaches out to grab at Ron’s nose, he smiles wider.

“That you do.”

Ron can’t bake without the supervision of at least half of Daisy’s side of the family — but decorating cookies with Dick and the kids works just as well, Laura perched on his lap and grabbing fistfuls of candy. He keeps a watchful eye, ensuring it doesn’t all go into her mouth, wipes Robbie’s face of white frosting and all the while Daisy can’t stop smiling, pressing kisses to the top of his head and muttering quiet “I love you”s and “I miss you”s in his ear, which he returns.

They get the kids to bed eventually, all tuckered out from the day’s events and Ron’s surprise visit. Alan and Robbie share Al’s bed, and Laura has been using Al’s old toddler bed. After that, the four of them set up all the presents under the glittering tree in the living room, share the four gingerbread cookies laid out, and stay up for a little while longer until Daisy and Ron retreat to the guest bedroom.

Daisy keeps running her thumbs over Ron’s face, her cheeks hurt from smiling as she gazes down at him.

“So, remind me, when did you leave?”

“Three in the morning from Kentucky,” he responds simply, and her brows furrow for a moment. “I slept on the train, sweetness, don’t yell at me.”

“I can’t yell at you, the kids are sleeping.”

“You’d find a way,” he retorts, and she can’t help but smile, tucking her face into the crook of his neck for a moment. “Anyways, got on the train from Fort Bragg, we stopped in Maryland. That was when I called you.”

“That explains all the noise in the back,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to his neck, his jaw, and then his cheek, enjoying the small, shuddering breath he takes, and the way his fingers dig into her hips a little tighter. “But I’m… glad you made it. Think one more day here and Robbie might’ve broken Dick’s leg.” Ron chuckles, a low noise rumbling through his chest and Daisy grins a little wider.

“That’s your son, Dais.” He insists with a slight hum to his voice, hands slipping under her shirt to rub circles into her hip bones, she shakes her head.

“He’s at least 50% you. I’d argue maybe even 60% since he’s got your eyes. Takes two to make a baby.” Ron’s grin turns somewhat wolfish as he looks her over, hands moving to press into her back.

“Does, doesn’t it?” he mutters, trailing off for a moment. “We’ve gotten pretty good at that. Rearing kids.” Daisy can’t help but giggle as Ron leans forward to press a few kisses to the column of her throat.

“You trying to raise an Army or something?” she mutters, letting out a quiet gasp when he nips a certain spot on her neck.

“Well I think they have a mighty fine CO, Lieutenant Speirs,” he mutters, and she can feel his grin against her neck. Daisy laughs again, carding her fingers through his hair.

“I’d have to agree, Major Speirs.” In time with the use of his rank, she gives a gentle tug to the hair at the base of his neck. Ron pulls his face from her throat to look at her with eyes blown wide, lips parted. All Daisy does is smile at him, and shift a little in his lap.

Even when Ron leans forward to press his lips to hers again in a heated kiss, and flip them over so he’s on top of her, she can’t stop the laugh that bubbles from her throat. Ron reaches for her hands and pins them above her head, pulling away for a moment to stare down at her — hair fanned across the mattress, eyes sparkly as she stares up at him. He takes a look over at the clock on the dresser, then back to her.

“Merry Christmas, Dais,” he murmurs. Wrapping her legs around his waist a little tighter, she nods.

“Merry Christmas, Ron,” and despite the hand pinning down her wrists, she reaches up to give him a kiss that’s a little softer, and he lets her wrists go to pull her impossibly closer to him.

Welcome home.

#ronald speirs #ronald speirs x oc #. daisy clarke #ron x daisy #ron speirs x oc #hbo war fic #hbo war x oc #band of brothers fic #postwar sweetness #band of brothers oc #rita : *evil laughter after sending daisy a sexy Santa dress and goes back to celebrating Chanukah with Joe’s family* #this isn’t the first time she’s done that #she thinks it’s funny #poet’s notepad

[softguarnere]

Hello Dove! I am new to fandom, I recently finished watching Easy Boys. I read some of your fics on AO3 and loved them. I wanted to ask if your requests still open can I have something sweet with our dear OC Ron Speirs. He is definitly one my favourite characters. A romance fluff maybe or whatever you like :)

Please don't feel any pressure to do that! :)

Everyone, Everywhere, Everything

Ron Speirs x reader

Soulmate au in which on your thirteenth birthday, the first words you ever hear your soulmate say appear as a tattoo somewhere on your body

A/N: Hello love! Welcome to the fandom! I'm so glad you've liked my fics - you're very sweet 💕 Ron is one of my favorites to write, so I really enjoyed this one, and I hope that you will, too! (As always, this is written for the fictional depictions from the show - no disrespect to the real life veterans!) Just a friendly reminder that my requests are currently closed - I wrote this one while catching up on the ones I already have in my asks! Warnings: language, mentions of war

Depending on who you ask, you might just be the luckiest person on earth.

You could hardly sleep the night before your thirteenth birthday, knowing that in just a few hours, you would wake up and have the first words you would ever hear your soulmate say tattooed somewhere on your body. And when you woke up that morning, you not only knew the first words you would hear him say, but you knew his name.

Captain Ronald Speirs, at your service, graced the back of your left hand. Seeing the words for the first time sent a shiver down your spine and a thrill through your heart.

“You know his name!” Your mother had exclaimed, squeezing your shoulders in an excited hug. “And his career! Well, sort of. He’s either in the military or he works on a boat.”

“The captain of a boat sounds mysterious,” you had said, the possibilities of such a career very much shaped by the understandings of the world held in your thirteen-year-old mind. “Maybe we’ll live in a lighthouse together!”

“Maybe,” your mother agreed.

Thirteen-year-old you was right about one thing: your soulmate certainly does have an aura of mystery about him. Something that you learn all too soon once you land in Europe and are introduced to a company to interview.

E Company – or Easy, as they call themselves – are a mixed bag once they learn that you are a war correspondent. Some of them ice you out upon learning that you’re a reporter, not wanting to speak, while others just seem happy to have a woman around, and answer all of your questions, albeit in a manner that’s somewhat flirtatious. It’s during one of these interviews that you hear your soulmate’s name thrown around for the first time.

Settled in a shell of a building in a place called Haguenau, you lounge with some of the men, diligently taking notes as they tell you their stories. All of them – from the downright hilarious to the gritty to the ones that are horrifying and unbelievable.

“No, no, that was before Captain Speirs took over,” one of the men, Skinny, interrupts, correcting his friend about the timeline of an event.

“No,” another man, Martin, cuts in. “It was right after he took over. When he took over for Dike in Foy, remember?”

At the mention of Captain Speirs, you perk up. Suddenly grateful that you’ve been wearing gloves the whole time to protect yourself from the cold, you find yourself staring at your left hand, where you know that very name to be printed.

“Who’s Captain Speirs?” You ask, trying to keep your voice casual. You even ready your pencil, as if you’re just trying to keep the facts straight for the purposes of your notes.

One of the men snorts. “Yeah, that’s a good question. The one that everyone really wants to know the answer to.”

“Oh?”

The men all furrow their eyebrows, glancing between each other and you, having a silent conversation that you can’t translate. Finally, Skinny shrugs, leaning forward in his seat. “Well, see, the thing about Captain Speirs is that he’s a real good leader – “

“But he’s got quite the reputation,” Martin finished. “Some people call him Killer.”

“They what?”

More glances are shared, but less hesitant than before. Then Martin begins his story. “It all started back in Normandy . . .”

. . .

The first few times, Ron told himself that he was imagining it. Simple coincidence was behind the fact that every now and then he would look up to see an unfamiliar woman – maybe one of the nurses? –  watching him from the corner of her eye, only to then look away when she realized that she had been caught.

If he’s being honest, this kind of thing has only happened to him a handful of times throughout his life. One of his older sisters had to explain to him in middle school that one of the girls who sat near him in math kept glancing at him and looking away with blushed cheeks because she had a crush on him. If she hadn’t explained, he might have gone about the rest of his life wondering what those shy glances were about.

But lots of people stare at him these days. He would have to be blind not to notice. And even then, he could probably still feel the weight of their heavy stares and would be able to hear the whispered rumors as he passed by. Have those stories made their way to the nurses in the aid stations?

If the words on the back of his left hand are anything to go by, then everyone everywhere must know everything about him by now. Or at least they think they do.

 Most people wouldn’t expect the infamous Captain Speirs to become tongue tied when Major Winters called him into his makeshift office, asking if he could meet with a reporter on his behalf. “I just haven’t got the time anymore.” Winters had frowned. “Besides, you’re the one in the field with Easy. You can add color to her story that I can’t.”

And most people wouldn’t have expected him to feel his heart begin racing in his chest when he stepped into the room and saw you sitting across from the major. You – the pretty woman who’s been watching him in glances. He had assumed that you were a nurse, since you always seem to be in the background, always near them.

When he enters the room, you and Winters both stand to greet him. You clasp your hands behind your back, wide eyes glancing between him and the major.

“And here he is now,” Winters says. “Miss (Y/L/N), this is Easy Company’s CO. He should be able to get you what you need for your story.”

Ron extends his hand to you. “Captain Ronald Speirs, at your service.”

You have a firm handshake, he can’t help but notice. So firm that you don’t let go of his hand when you look him in the eye and say the words he’s waited most of his life to hear. “Your reputation proceeds you.”

 He steps back. You? But all he said was – oh. So you’ve known about him from the start, then. Known all about him, more accurately. He can’t help but glance at his hand, as if the words could have suddenly changed. Major Winters himself even looks taken aback, which is not something that Ron is used to seeing from him. But Ron’s soulmate tattoo is in a place where it cannot easily be covered. Everyone with basic powers of observation at their disposal knew what the first words he would hear his soulmate say would be.

He’s trying to think of something to say when you offer him a kind smile.

“Don’t worry,” you say. “I don’t believe half of what I hear. I’m a reporter; I’ve been trained to sift through all the bullshit.” Then you laugh, casually, as if it’s the easiest and most natural thing in the world. You tap your pen against your notepad. “You’ll get the chance to clear it all up.”

Speirs nods, trying to be as lighthearted about all this as you are. “Thank you,” he says, then, in an attempt to be less formal, “Although, off the record, I kind of like them. They make me more interesting.”

“Well, I think you’ll be plenty interesting without them.”

He’s not so sure. Really, he’s just Ron, when it comes down to it. What’s so interesting about that?

But for you, he’ll try to be.

#ron speirs #ron speirs x reader #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #my writing #hbo war fanfic

[1waveshortofashipwreck]

Should've Been Born Later, Nix - Chapter 6: The Plan

Easy Company x Fem!OCs

Chap. Synopsis: What will happen when the group forms a plan to get some answers?

Words: 3,677

Find the fic's navigation page here !!

Have a question/want to be on the taglist? Let me know !!

A playlist to go with the chapter!

Author's Note: WHAT IS UP MY DUDES IT'S TIME FOR CHAPTER SIX!!!! Be on the lookout for Chapter 7 dropping tomorrow night!! :D

“We’ll need a map, and equipment to pick locks and stuff,” Chrys answered Joe, hesitancy evident in her words. “I do have a lock-picking kit, but we might need other stuff to bypass the doors that have alarms on them.” The boys nodded along before Luz spoke up.

“Do you think the rest of the guys will go along with this?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t see any other option,” Malarkey barely finished his sentence before the group heard the apartment door unlocking. When the door opened, Zay stumbled through, pushed to the side by the disheveled frames of Roe and Guarnere. The men looked like they did after days in Bastogne - dirt caked into their skin, grass and leaves in their hair, clothes that were clean when they left now looking as if they're on their sixth week of wear. Speirs and Liebgott walked in after them. The soldiers had never seen the look of irritation on Speirs’ face - sure, they'd seen him aggravated or annoyed, but this expression seemed to be in a league of its own.

“What the fuck happened?” Luz asked the group, concern and bewilderment evident in his eyes.

“You don't want to know,” Liebgott muttered quietly as he sat down in the vacant armchair. Speirs immediately walked from the front door to the sliding glass that led to the apartment balcony, forcefully sliding the door closed behind him. Everyone stared out at the balcony frozen, until Zay spoke up.

“He’s just frustrated because these two almost got themselves hurt,” she explained, shooting a playful glare at the two unkempt paratroopers beside her.

“We got some good information though!” Guarnere replied proudly, placing a firm but friendly hand on Gene’s shoulder. The medic let out a quiet laugh and shook his head before Bull spoke up.

“So what’d y’all find out?” Zay reached into her backpack and pulled out what appeared to be a jacket with a camouflage pattern. It was sturdy - similar to the men’s army-issued jackets.

“We’re not quite sure if it’s useful, but it’s certainly interesting,” Zay explained as she showed the sleeves to the group. The men’s eyes widened when they saw the 101st airborne screaming eagles patch over the two chevrons that displayed the rank of corporal.

“Zay, you’re not gonna believe what we found out,” Chrys mused, eyes wide at the jacket. Chrys and her group regaled the newcomers with the rumors they read about, as well as the missing corporal.

“You don’t think that’s her jacket, do you?” Luz asked in disbelief.

“Well whose else would it be!?” Gonorrhea replied to the radioman… a bit more forcefully than he intended. There was a heavy pause before Dick broke the silence, looking at Zay with a pensive but nervous expression.

“We’re thinking about sneaking into Fort Liberty, see what we can find out,” Zay’s eyes widened behind her glasses.

“You can’t be serious…” the words fell from Zay’s lips with utter disbelief. “There’s no way… even if we wanted to… where would we even start?” The girl’s eyes darted around the group - every expression seemed to have glimpses of shock, fright, overwhelm, but also… focus and determination. If this was really the next step in their journey home, then they were going to do it right.

“We’d have to find some way to scope out the base beforehand, so we can understand how their security works,” Speirs’ voice delivered a jumpscare to the rest of the group, no one hearing him sneak back in from the balcony.

“And figure out how the base is laid out,” Nixon added.

“But the only way we can get on base is if we have a military ID,” Zay mentioned before Chrys spoke up.

“... not unless you’re a delivery driver.”

“Wait, so they’ll just let you on base if you’re a delivery driver?” Liebgott wondered aloud.

“Not exactly, you need to register your car and have a special ID card, but we can probably just look up how to do that on their website,” Zay replied before noticing the still-disheveled states of Roe and Guarnere. “Let me get y’all some fresh clothes and I’ll get my laptop and we can do some brainstorming.” Once Gene and Bill were taken care of, the twelve made a makeshift circle around the coffee table. Chrys kept her seat between Winters and Nixon, while Zay sat across from her sister on the floor, Eugene on her left and Guarnere on her right.

“Alright, so we need to figure out how to get on base, where we need to go, and what will stop us from getting there, right?” Malarkey listed out from his spot on the floor.

“We can get on base by registering as a delivery driver, and then once we’re on base we can figure out where everything is.” Chrys typed away on her laptop, making a checklist of what needed to be done.

“Right… what’s everything exactly?” Luz chimed in from his spot beside Toye.

“We could probably start with Colonel Gomez’s office, then from there we can see where he’s doing the experiments,” Speirs explained from his spot on the other side of Eugene. The group carried on like this until dark, forming their own version of the D-Day invasion, just with less planes and more… road trip playlists.

“Alright, let me see if I have everything here,” Chrys said. She made a few finishing keystrokes on her laptop before scrolling back up to the top of her list. Beside her, Lewis was in awe of the girl. Everything she did seemed to have an effortless air around it. It felt as though, at the snap of her fingers, Chrys could command the beer bottle beside her to bring itself to her lips of its own accord. Lewis would never admit to it, but her presence caused a level of butterflies to swell up in his stomach that he hadn't felt since he was in prep school. His eyes became fixated on her snakebite lip piercings - two black studs placed right below her lower lip. Lewis had never seen a piercing like this before, his mind started to wonder what it would be like to kiss her with those-

“Lew!” The man was shaken from his thoughts when Dick called his name. Nixon was broken from his trance and noticed the rest of the group staring at him expectedly, most notably Chrys. The dark-haired man took a beat before clearing his throat.

“I’m sorry, what’d you say?”

“Do you think you’d be able to help us decipher anything we find in Gomez’s office?” Zay asked from her spot on the floor.

“Well I’m not the intelligence officer because of my good looks!” Snickers could be heard around the room at Nixon’s comment before the conversation moved forward.

“So Zay and I will use the van from my garage and register it as a delivery car, then Nix, Speirs, and I will ‘deliver’ something to Colonel Gomez to find where his office is and scope out the place. Then from there, we can plan out how we want to do the second run,” Chrys explained to the group.

“Sounds good to me,” Winters piped up from his seat on the couch. His eyes kept finding their way to Zay, who could be seen whispering and laughing with Doc Roe beside her. Even when he felt a sting of envy seeing Eugene next to her, there was still a comforting warmth in his chest when he saw Zay scrunch her nose in laughter. Chrys noticed how Dick was looking at Zay and couldn’t help but smile. Chrys’ gaze abruptly moved to Guarnere when everyone heard his stomach growl, or rather, play the symphony of its people.

“Zay, why don’t you and I head to the kitchen and see if we have anything for dinner?” the dark-haired girl announced with a laugh before setting her laptop on the coffee table, stretching her arms over her head. Zay was quick to pop up and follow her twin into the kitchen, leaving Easy Company to their own devices, at least for a moment.

“I’m pretty sure we don’t have something that’ll feed everyone, do you wanna just order pizza tonight?” Zay asked nonchalantly as she looked in their fridge. Chrys simply leaned her back against the counter and let a snicker past her lips.

“You have no idea, do you?”

“... I mean I’m looking at our fridge right now and all we have is your veggie smoothies and my orange soda, ooh! And Peronis! When did we get these?” The nurse was in her own little world for a moment, pulling the cheap beer out of the fridge to share with everyone.

“I mean about Dick, don’t you see how he looks at you?” Zay turned around and met Chrys with furrowed brows, clearly confused.

“What do you mean?”

“He gives you the same heart eyes he does to Nixon in the first episode, when Nix is lighting his cigarette outside that tent.” Zay quickly shook her head before promptly setting the drinks on the counter and closing the fridge. She immediately pulled out her phone, desperate to focus on something else.

“You think they’d prefer Domino’s or Little Caesar’s?”

“Zay, I’m serious, I really think he likes you.” Chrys’ tone was quiet and serious, but gentle. Chrys was unsurprised at her twin’s avoidance of the subject - she knew Zay had a rough time in terms of relationships.

“Chrys he could have anyone he wants,” the girl said in a strikingly monotone voice - a stark contrast to her bubbly personality. She took a deep breath before continuing, “Besides, do you see how Nix looks at you?” Zay looked up from her phone, a smirk on her face. Before Chrys could finish her eye-roll, the two were shocked out of their skins as music came blaring unexpectedly from the living room. As Tainted Love filled every atom of air in the apartment, the twins scrambled into the living room to find Luz crouching in front of the entertainment stand, fumbling with the Bluetooth speaker as if it were a hot potato. Zay quickly knelt next to George and took his hands, turning the speaker so that she could reach the power button and turn the speaker off. The two sat like that for a second before Zay quickly pulled away, face bright red. She futilely prayed that Luz didn’t notice the rosy hue on her cheeks.

“I told you not to mess with that, dumbass!” Liebgott scolded Luz from his place on the floor.

“Great job, radioman,” Bull chimed in, chuckling as Luz bashfully rubbed the back of his neck. The poor man just wanted to see if he could figure out how to turn on the device to see what it was. While his mission was technically successful, George certainly did not intend to assault the eardrums of everyone in the tiny space.

“If y’all wanted a dance party, you could’ve just asked!” Zay said with a giggle. Most of the men shared in her laughter, while others felt their ears perk up at the idea of a dance party. “Why don’t we order some pizza and then I can show y’all how the speaker works?” Within the hour, the twins had educated the men from the 1940s on what toppings were available on their pizzas, as well as mediating the discussions for what was going on said pizzas. Now, all they could do was relax and wait for the delivery driver. Zay had started passing out the Peronis from the fridge (and a soda for Dick) when she heard her name.

“Zay, you said something about a dance party?” Nixon piped up from his seat, a mischievous smirk on his face. Her expression grew to match his as she pulled out her phone.

“Let me find a good playlist to show y’all the best music-”

“Zay I swear if it’s your Queen playlist…” Chrys interrupted, irritation in her eyes but a smile on her lips.

“Like, songs for the Queen of England?” Guarnere questioned the two - just when he thought 2023 could not get any more bizarre, now he knows the word “playlist” and is about to listen to music made for the queen of England. Zay simply laughed before returning to her phone.

“ONE song, then I’ll put on a playlist!” The blue-haired girl compromised with her sister before picking up the Bluetooth speaker. The boys were amazed when she seemed to only push a couple of buttons, and suddenly music was playing again from the speaker, and at a much more reasonable volume compared to earlier.

Toniiiiight, I’m gonna have mysellllf a real good time

I feel aliiiiiiiivvvvveeeee!

Zay was singing along to one of her favorite songs, she could not help but stand up and move along to the slow intro, waving her arms in big, dramatic motions to the lyrics. Everyone was laughing along with Zay’s hyperbolic display as she and her twin sang along with Freddie Mercury.

And the wooooorld, I’ll tuuuurn it inside ooouuut, yeah!

I’m floating arooooound in ecstacyyyy so

Don't- Stop me nooowww…

“Don’t! Stop me! Cuz I’m having a good time! Having a good time!” As the music crescendoed, so did Zay and her dancing. Even Chrys, moved by one of her favorite singers, got up and began dancing with Zay. The two moved like excited baby goats, hopping around the living room in time to Roger Taylor’s drumming. Some soldiers were getting into the vibes of the music with the twins, either dancing in their seats or trying to sing along, others were watching the girls with less than chivalrous eyes (Liebgott and Toye were the worst offenders), while Dick and Lewis simply watched in awe. Dick’s eyes were fixed on Zay, the way her hips were moving trapping the redhead in a trance that he would have been happy to stay in forever.

Lewis, on the other hand, could not decide where to focus his gaze on Chrys. From the smirk on her face, to her waist swirling side to side, to her legs moving in time with the music, to her arms wrapping themselves around Guarnere - wait… Nixon was brought back to reality when he saw the sergeant dancing with the black-haired girl, also noticing that the song had changed to something more… seductive.

Pour some sugar on me! In the name of love

Pour some sugar on me! C’mon fire me uuupp

Pour your sugar on me! I can’t get enouugh

I’m hot, sticky, sweeet, from my head to my feet

The intelligence officer felt a confounding mixture of emotions - absolutely enamored by Chrys and her movements to the music, uncomfortable with watching Guarnere’s movements to the music, jealous that Chrys was dancing with Guarnere… Nix just could not let this stand. “I’m going to Chrys, and I suggest you go to your little nurse before it’s too late,” Lewis muttered to Dick before he got up, gesturing to the girl in question as he made his way to the makeshift dance floor. Winters looked away and crossed his arms - yes, he wanted to spend time with Zay, but there were a few barriers at the moment Dick was wrestling with.

First, Dick does not dance. He will if he absolutely must, he can waltz… a bit, but for someone in peak physical condition, the officer has two left feet on the dance floor. Second, the tantalizing rhythms set forth by the music and Zay’s hypnotic movements caused Dick to feel a certain overwhelm that he has never felt before, and he was quite unsure how to handle it. He was sure, though, that if he tried to talk to Zay now, absolute gibberish would come out of his mouth. Third, Zay already had a dancing partner, and the Cajun man definitely knew how to dance. If the officer had not looked away, he would see that Eugene and Zay were dancing in perfect sync, as if they were the only two in the room.

Meanwhile, the rest of the boys were in their own little worlds, either dancing in the goofiest way possible, like Luz trying to mess with Toye, or simply sitting back and taking in the music, like Ron and Bull, sporting amused expressions from their seats. The twelve were abruptly all pulled back to the same reality when the doorbell rang - the pizza had arrived!

Zay took the pizzas from the delivery man while Chrys brought out plates and napkins. The night continued with more shenanigans brought about by both the music as well as the Peronis, both Zay and Chrys absolutely delighted in sharing the music of their time with the soldiers.

When I was, a young boy, my father, took me into the city, to see a marching band…

As the intro to Welcome to the Black Parade played, Zay dramatically serenaded the group, her off-tune voice endearing her to the tipsy men. Zay, being rather inebriated herself, noticed Dick casually sitting by himself, enjoying the party going on around him. While the leader considered himself to be more of an introvert, seeing his men, who had been working and struggling so hard throughout the war, finally getting to relax and have fun warmed his heart more than he thought possible. Suddenly filled with confidence, Zay slowly strutted over to the redhead, making eye contact with him as she made her way to the couch. While Winters offered her a smile, everyone could see the hue on his cheeks that matched his hair.

He said will you, defeat them, your demons, and all the non-believers, the plans that they have maaaddee…

The lyrics being sung were not exactly sultry, but the look in Zay’s eyes had Dick feeling things that he had not felt since before the war. In that moment, it was as if Dick and Zay were the only two in the room. The nurse stopped right in front of the captain, bending over to look into his emerald eyes. Past her glasses, Winters could see the mischievous sparkle in Zay’s eyes, his brain going a million miles a minute. Was this really happening? If it was a dream, Dick silently prayed he would never wake up.

Because one day, I’ll leave you, a phantom, to lead you in the summer, to join the Black Parade…

Zay softly sang to Winters, trailing a finger lightly down his cheek, taking in his handsome features. She began to wonder the same question as him - is this real? As she looked into his eyes and their faces grew closer, inch by inch, the girl could not help but steal a glance at his lips before a resounding crash broke the two from their mutual trance.

“Hey, watch where the fuck you’re going!” Guarnere shouted at Liebgott before the two started throwing punches at each other. It was later revealed that Joe stumbled back and accidentally put his elbow into Bill’s pizza, which he was thoroughly enjoying. The two tumbled to the ground before the rest of the group dove in to break them apart, Zay and Chrys included. After a horrendous struggle, the group had the angry boys separated, Guarnere holding his hand to his eye and Liebgott tasting blood from his split lip. After figuring out what happened, a couple of extremely heartfelt apologies, and some first aid provided by Zay and Roe, everyone agreed that it was time for bed. Well… almost everyone.

A while after everyone had gone to bed, Chrys heard the sliding door open from her place on the wicker chair that lived on the apartment’s balcony. She turned her head to see none other than Captain Nixon poking his head outside.

“Do you mind some company?”

“Be my guest,” she replied nonchalantly, gesturing for Lewis to sit in the chair on the other side of the small glass table, still needing to be dusted from the pollen drop of the day. Nixon gave Chrys a nod of thanks before sitting and pulling out his Lucky Strikes and lighter. He stretched his arm out to offer Chrys a cigarette before lighting his own. The girl politely shook her head, silently cursing how the dark-haired man made smoking look so attractive.

“Isn't it past your bedtime, doll?” Nixon said around his cigarette, the scratch of the flint in his zippo echoing off the brick wall.

“If I didn't know you were a night owl I could say the same to you,” Chrys retorted, not noticing Nixon’s flirtatious tone. The twins may be opposites in many ways, but one thing that ties them together is their obliviousness to a boy’s romantic advances.

The intelligence officer let out a snicker and shook his head. “You think you know everything about me because you’ve seen me on a TV show?”

“Well I know the number of times Dick had to pour your own piss on you to wake you up is one too many,” the words left Chrys’ mouth with a smirk that left Lewis weak in the knees. He threw his head back in laughter before taking another drag from his cigarette.

“First you clean the dance floor with my ass, then you bring that shit up,” he mused to himself, remembering earlier in the night. When Nixon went up to cut in on Chrys and Guarnere dancing together, the movement Chrys’ body created almost felt supernatural. Lewis tried to keep up with her, but he kept staring at the girl and tripping over two left feet.

“What’s the matter, Yale boy? You can dish it but you can’t take it?”

The two night owls continued their banter well into the night, only retiring when the first birds of the morning began to chirp. Chrys and Zay passed in the hallway - Zay was dressed in her scrubs and on the way to work. The blue-haired girl sent a smile over to her twin, “You awake yet?”

“Awake? It’s time to go to bed!”

~~~~~

Chapter 5 | Chapter 7

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

Thank you again for reading!! Be on the lookout for Chapter 7 dropping Tomorrow!! 🥰✨

#band of brothers #hbo #hbo war #easy company #should've been born later nix #band of brothers fanfic #easy company x oc #dick winters #richard winters #george luz #lewis nixon #eugene roe #gene roe #doc roe #joe liebgott #joseph liebgott #joe toye #joseph toye #william guarnere #bill guarnere #wild bill #ol' gonorrhea #donald malarkey #don malarkey #denver randleman #bull randleman #ronald speirs #ron speirs #my writing #emily shut up