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serendipitysae · 7 months

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Querencia ( Joseph D. Liebgott x Reader )

querencia/ kɛˈrɛnθɪə,Spanish keˈrenθja,keˈrensja/

noun ; querencia; plural noun: querencias

Sanctuary.

( POST WAR !!! fluff and maybe a smidge of angst ?)

01.00 AM.

19th July, 1946, Yuma, California.

1 cup of self raising flour, 1 cup of granulated sugar, equal parts. Wisk together in a bowl, before adding 1 large egg.

Feel free to stir together using your hands.

In a pan, arrange the canned-peach slices, before half of the reserved peach juice on top. After this, apply the doe on top of the peaches. Then drizzle a ½ cup of melted butter.

Bake in a preheated oven for forty five minutes until golden brown, serve with cold ice cream and rest of the peach juice. Easy peasy !

Yeah right.

You sighed irritatedly, eyebrows knit together as you crouched before the oven, one hand on the oven latch, the other holding an oven mitten. You had been sitting there for at least an hour and a half.

You were wearing one of Joe’s shirts, over your nightgown. You pursed your lips together, scowling at the peach cobbler in the oven, which wasn’t even browning. “Come on..” You murmured quietly. You were so caught up in the baking that you hadn’t noticed the door unlocking.

That was until you heard the soft clang of Joe’s cab car keys being thrown onto the table. “Shit-!”

You looked over, confused as you looked up to Joseph Liebgott, your boyfriend. He stared down at you, his surprise slowly morphing into a small smile. “Wasn’t expecting you to be awake, Doll.”

You giggled at that, an excited smile gracing your features as you stood up and jogged to him. A warmth spread through your body as you held him close, pulling him down to litter his face with kisses. “Lots of customers ?” You asked, between kisses. His lopsided grin surfaced, chuckling as he leaned into the kiss. “ Mhm, drove ‘round half the fuckin’ city swear to god.”

“The real question is,” He began, hand trailing down to the curve of your waist. “ What are you doing up ?” He jokingly poked at your side, earning a small sigh and downwards turn at your lips. “I wanted to try the recipe for Peach Cobbler.. kind of a lost cause though.”

A hoarse, tired chuckle left his lips, shaking his head as he pressed a kiss to your head. “What’s the occasion ?”

You tensed up a little, clearing your throat as you looked to the oven. Your lips parted, taking a soft inhale before speaking. “ Next saturday, you know .. that reunion in indianapolis ?”

Joe didn’t look at you, his lips pressing into a thin line as he looked to the wall. You softly moved your hand up to his cheek, gently rubbing it with the pad of your thumb. “ It’s been a year since we last saw them .. and I know Webster came to visit us last february but you know that doesn’t count.”

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to bring it up after his long shift, but he asked, and you had no intention of hiding things from him.

You caught on on how his jaw clenched, eyes trained on the tiles of the kitchen wall. You would have preferred screeching of fingernails on chalk than the deafening silence. After several moments of this, he licked his lips, voice quiet.

“I just..”

You looked up to him.

“I just can’t do it, Doll..”

You felt your heart clench. He didn’t sound hurt, he didn’t sound mad or anything. He just sounded so discouraged. The way his words died on his tongue, how he couldn’t meet your eyes.

“Oh Joe..”

You cooed, your hand moving up to his hair as you tugged him into a warm embrace. It didn’t take long for him to melt into your glow. His arms sneaked around your waist, burying his face into the crook of your neck. He didn’t cry, Liebgott rarely cried. He just savored the moment. The smell of your hair, as well as the light scent of artificial peach and flour. One hand moved to cradle your head, as his eyes closed. The gentle tugging at the roots of his hair, the soft tracings you drew on his back, it was his sanctuary.

“My darling, we don’t have to do anything. We don’t, we can just rest.” You’d say, your voice muffled by the material of his shirt. He didn’t really respond, just a quiet hum resonating through his body.

The two of you stood there for several minutes, until you reluctantly pulled away. You looked up at him, the soft smile on your lips never faltering as you intertwined your hands. “ Let’s get you some sleep, hm ?”

He nodded.

“The rocket’s empty- I’ll try the atom load of this ray gun.” You read, your voice saccharine and honey like as you read of the comic book strip. Both of your backs were pressed against the wall, Joseph’s arm around your shoulders as you read to him. His head was resting on yours, half-lidded eyes following the comic drawings as you read.

It only took fifteen minutes before the book was tucked away in a drawer, the lights off and blanket pulled over you two. Joe lay behind you, his body pressed up to yours with his arms holding you around the torso.

“Y/N ?” He interrupted the silence, and you hummed quietly, eyes still closed.

“ I just .. well..”

You shifted slightly, turning to face him. One hand moved to rest on his cheekbone, eyes opening slightly.

“If you want to go to the reunion, you should.” Your eyebrows knit together, slowly adjusting to the light as you spotted his warm eyes.

“What ?”

He nodded, shuffling closer to you. “I don’t know if I’m ready to see any of those bucks again.. But, they were your team too.” You looked at him with a small, small smile as you nodded. “But- Joe, you know you don’t have to-”

“I know.”

You shut up, thumb tracing patterns against his jaw. He continued speaking.

“But.. Well, if you need a ride to Indianapolis, I’ll be there. ”

Your lip curled up into a teasing smile. “You’re saying I'll get a free cab ride ?”

“Hey, I ain’t saying anything about it being free, I just said if you need a ride.” He countered, gently squeezing your side with a chuckle. Your laughter is harmonious to him, as he closes his eyes and smiles.

Your laughter died down, your chest fluttering. “Hey..” You’d say, quietly. You moved closer, pressing a warm kiss to his lips. Sure, Joe was tired, but he kissed you back, with as much love and eagerness as he always did. You mumbled a soft “thank you.” to his lips.

He just shook his head, and tugged you closer to him, the sound of traffic rumbling from the balcony of your apartment.

( THIS ISN'T PROOF READ SO PLAY NICE !!! I love domestic joe : ( he's my baby boy. It's post-war, if it wasn't clear enough- uh yeah hope you guys enjoy xoxo !!!!!!)

#Joseph Liebgott x Reader #fluff #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers one shot #band of brothers #band of brothers fandom #I love me my Liebgott content #I just wanna rah rah rah I just wanna rah rah rah #Joe best boy !!#Webster actually rang the wrong doorbell like twice before finding the right apartment #he will never head the end of it.#I love you guys !!#I don't bite i promise i want more fan friends TT

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liebgotts-lovergirl · 5 months

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Fire On Fire: Chapter 28

(Ch. 27) ... (Ch. 1)

II Gallery II Symbol Guide II

Summary: “If we could light up the room with pain, we’d be such a glorious fire.” - Ada Limon

WARNINGS: Graphic Violence, Death, Espionage, Survivor's Guilt, the usual.

A/N: I'm so sorry it's taken me fucking FOREVER to get this out, y'all! A LOT has been going on in these past months (the demise of a longterm relationship, renovations on my house, new jobs etc) but I hope this is worth the wait! 💖

Taglist: @latibvles @softguarnere @brassknucklespeirs @mccall-muffin @lieutenant-speirs @bellewintersroe @emmythespacecowgirl @holdingforgeneralhugs @parajumpboots @hxad-ovxr-hxart @sleepisforcowards @suugrbunz @ax-elcfucker-blog @chaosklutz @mads-weasley @vibing-away @eightysix-baby @ithinkabouttzu @emmylindersson @flowers-and-fichte

Contemporary: Midnight, December 3rd, 1944. Liart Station, France.

When the door to her private train compartment was opened, Alix made a silent promise to herself: As soon as the war was over, she was turning in her goddamn resignation letter to the OSS and going home. She couldn’t handle any more surprises on the job, not like this one.

“Sorry, I’m late, gorgeous," a lowered voice had remarked wryly as soon as the compartment door slid shut once more.

"You wouldn’t believe the traffic.”

The whisper came from a young man in a heavy coat who casually dropped into the seat next to her as though he belonged there. The dark brim of his fedora was pulled low over his eyes, casting his face in shadow, but she didn’t need to see its entirety to know who it was; she would recognize that gravelly voice anywhere.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded out of the corner of her mouth, making sure to keep her expression neutral as she flipped through her newspaper and fought the urge to smack the newcomer with it.

“Thought Nix woulda told ya,” Liebgott looked almost amused, a smirk playing on his lips.

He too spoke out of the corner of his mouth; someone had taught him well.

“Donovan needed an interrogator with an Austrian dialect. Said this one’s gonna be a real doozy. Called me in as a temp.”

Alix’s dark eyes narrowed, causing her blue contacts to sting.

“You’re the floater? You’re–”

“Lieutenant Fritz Eberhardt,” he finished with a nod, casually taking his right hand out of his pocket to reveal the worn, silver skull ring of the Werwolf Kommandos, engraved with the tell-tale motto of the SS:

‘Meine Ehre Heisst Treue’.

My Honor Means Loyalty.

How ironic.

The paratrooper and translator shot her a roguish wink, leaning back with an arm stretched out lazily along the back of his seat like nothing was wrong.

“I've been assigned to accompany you to your Paris engagement, Fraulein."

The spy stiffened.

This was the first time that she could recall ever seeing Joe out of uniform and it would be a shame to get blood all over his nice coat but sweet Jesus, Alix was about ready to make that sacrifice.

“You shouldn’t be here,” the auburn-haired girl muttered under her breath. “You’re going to get us both killed.”

“You don’t gotta worry ‘bout me,” Joe chuckles. “Trust me-”

"Right, because that's gone so well for me before," the spy snapped sharper than intended.

Joe's eyebrows shot to the compartment ceiling, his cocky demeanor gone in a flash, replaced by a sudden scowl.

"The hell's that supposed to mean?"

Before Alix could find the words to reply, the shrill whistle of the train screamed out, indicating their departure from Liart Station and the spy took a shaky breath, hearing the rumbling of the wheels on the track underneath them.

She was stuck with him now.

Trying to ignore the ache in her chest at Joe's unexpected presence, Alix tried to force her unfocused eyes to stare at the newspaper in her hands but the words only blurred before her.

"Didja do a bug sweep already?" Joe inquired with a casual yawn as he glanced across her to the window, while Alix flipped the page of her newspaper so hard that she nearly tore it.

"Of course I did," the spy answered indignantly, unable to contain her irritation.

"That's why you were supposed to come early: to help me look. Listening devices could've been anywhere in here."

“Don’t gimme that shit,” Joe scoffed in an almost dismissive tone as he tapped the filter of his Reemtsma cigarette.

“Since the liberation, the Krauts have lost a lot of resources and stick to their secret little underground social clubs or whatever. I got the whole rundown from HQ.”

Alix huffed.

Joe was right, damn him.

While on the surface, France had cleaned up its act, the rotten undergrowth of Nazis and their collaborators remained, festering beneath the surface.

The chances of them taking the time to bug train compartments were miniscule at best.

“Still,” she responded with a petulant roll of her eyes. “You should’ve been here on time. You never know.”

"Yeah, well you ain't the only one with shit to take care of, okay? I got held up."

Alix's dark eyes flickered up from her newspaper.

"Define 'held up'," she said coolly, an undeniably bitter edge to her tone. “What, pray tell, was so pressing?”

Joe crossed his arms and took a long drag off his cigarette before replying snippily,

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Tatiana.”

"It's Tanya, Alix snapped before flipping another page on her newspaper as though she were reading it instead of boring holes into Joe’s face.

“And I would like to know, actually. Because I'd like to think you wouldn't be late to your first assignment without a good reason but maybe I don't know you as well as I thought."

“Fine.”

Joe's warm brown eyes were suddenly as hard as the wood paneling in the compartment they shared but he shifted the side of his coat up nonetheless, just enough to show a huge cherry-red stain that had blossomed across one side of his ribs.

"There, that a good enough reason for ya?"

“Madonna mia!” Alix exclaimed, all pretense of anger gone in a flash. “What the hell happened?! Are you alright?”

Joe shrugged nonchalantly.

“Somebody did a shit job friskin' the prisoners so ol' Jerry got to bring a fuckin' boot knife with him to interrogation,” he muttered as he readjusted his coat. "'S not as bad as it looks.”

"Did you have Gene take a look at it?" Alix asked, eyeing his red-soaked shirt with concern. "That's a lot of blood…"

"No, I didn't have 'Gene' look at it," Joe shot back, a mocking edge to his voice as he spat the medic's name, biting down on his cigarette.

"’S fine. Barely a scratch."

The auburn-haired girl snorted, unable to keep the skepticism out of her tone.

"Right, and I'm the Queen of England."

The translator took a long drag, his expression unreadable.

“Well, I ain’t your problem anymore,Your Majesty,” he remarked sardonically as he let the smoke curl into the air.

"So you can lay off."

“You’ll always be my problem,” Alix grumbled under her breath and the pair lapsed into a chilly silence, broken only by the occasional rustling of the newspaper under her fingertips and the rumbling of the train on the tracks.

Still keeping her head angled downward to avoid that familiar ache that seemed to rise in her chest whenever she looked him in the face, Alix let herself study the compartment instead.

In truth, their private compartment was borderline ostentatious – plush maroon upholstery upon the seating, rich mahogany paneling upon the walls, thick velvet curtains adorning the windows to keep the outside world at bay– but the spy could barely concentrate on the luxurious decor either.

Instead, she found herself studying Joe's hands. She still had only fleeting memories of him from before her fall but his hands were one of the few things she remembered the most.

They had been paler back in England, not yet marred by the blood and grime of the battlefield, the blue veins still snaking up the back all the way to his wrist. She remembered tangled sheets and breathless laughter as they each struggled to catch their breath. She remembered her own scarlet-polished nails tracing each vein in the hand resting beside her, feeling the way his pulse would quicken when she smiled at him.

His fingers were still as calloused and long as she remembered, almost graceful in their strength, and she could still feel the ghost of them interlocking with her own like missing puzzle pieces finally finding their way together.

There weren’t any more ink stains on his fingertips, Alix realized, and she was suddenly half-tempted to make a snide remark about chasing two girls and getting neither, but she kept her silence.

No need to make an already awkward situation worse, she thought as she chewed on her bottom lip.

Like it or not, they had a mission to complete.

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

The French countryside seemed to pass by in blurs of green, gold, and blue, like the vibrant swirls of a priceless Van Gogh but Alix hardly noticed.

The spy had been fiddling with the worn handle of a discarded leather briefcase that had been left behind in the luggage rack under her seat. Beside her, Joe was violently twisting the Werwolf skull ring around and around upon his finger, wrenching it with such ferocity that it looked as though he might tear his finger off in the process.

"I hate this," he muttered bitterly, seemingly more to himself than to Alix as he glared down at his calloused hands.

"I fuckin' hate this."

"Hate what?" the spy inquired softly, cocking her head and allowing some of her auburn hair to fall over one shoulder.

Joe glanced up at the sound of her voice, clearly not expecting her to speak to him, but he recovered fast as ever.

"This," he replied simply, gesturing to the Werwolf skull ring.

"Wearing this. Gevalt, it makes me wanna claw my fuckin' skin off.”

Alix felt a pang of sympathy. She couldn’t even fathom the excruciating cognitive dissonance Joe must be experiencing right now, playing a role he despised…but why bother playing it in the first place?

Why put himself through the unnecessary pain? He was only a floater– a consultant– for this one mission. He had the power to back out at any time. It didn’t make sense but then, nothing about Joe seemed to make much sense lately.

Alix watched as he lit up another cigarette, his third in an hour, glaring across her, out the window at something unseen.

He was chainsmoking again, like he always did when he was agitated, and all she could do was let the silence sit and watch him wrench the skull ring harder and harder around his finger.

It was unsettling when Joe was quiet: his rage she could combat; his brooding she couldn’t.

The auburn-haired spy found herself sneaking quick glances over at him out of the corner of her eye, the tension hanging thick in the air around them like the early morning fog.

Surprisingly, Joe was the first to break.

“Look, you got somethin’ to say, just say it.”

“What is there to say?” Alix retorted, her grip on the briefcase’s handle tightening considerably.

“I’m perfectly capable of traveling on my own. I don't need a floater and I certainly don't need you.”

Joe crossed his arms and leaned his head back against the seat.

“Well tell that to Donovan then, ziskeit,” he yawns.

"'Cause I got orders to watch your six till the job's done."

Alix opened her mouth to complain but she was interrupted by a light knocking on the compartment door and Joe immediately shoved his right hand deep into his pocket to hide the infamous skull ring.

A disgruntled train attendant appeared, regarding both Joe and Alix with the same beady, bloodshot stare as he stepped inside, sliding the door shut behind him.

“Papers,” the Frenchman demanded with an outstretched hand.

Alix nodded with a casual “Certainement” and set aside the discarded briefcase, retrieving her false identification from her handbag and passing it to the man with what she hoped was a convincingly haughty eyeroll.

The attendant--whose yellowed nametag identified him as Guillaume-- wore a peevish expression almost identical to their old CO, Captain Sobel, which brought a smirk to Alix's face.

The thought of the sadistic superior officer who had made their lives hell for so long being reduced to a glorified bellhop punching tickets and checking IDs was enough to bring them both a smidgen of joy.

Her gaze flickered over to Joe, who returned the smirk with one of his own, the inside joke seeming to almost bridge the gap between them.

The attendant skimmed over Alix's paperwork, handing it back to her without issue, and then it was Joe's turn.

“You, identification.”

Compliantly, Joe dug into his jacket pocket for his passport with his left hand but as he passed the small booklet to the attendant, it slipped from his fingers toward the carpet.

Automatically, the translator’s dominant hand shot out of his right pocket to intercept them but it was too late: the skull ring on his right hand was in full view.

The attendant swore as he snatched up Joe’s fake Austrian passport, staring down at it and back to the tell-tale ring as his face reddened with rage.

“Y-You-” he snarled, his lip curled in disgust and a gloved finger shaking as he pointed at Joe. “You are-”

“Wha- No, no!” Joe protested, immediately reaching out for his passport back in a desperate bid to quiet him.

“I’m not-”

But the Frenchman shoved him off roughly and spat an anti-German epithet at him as Joe’s back hit the seat.

“Boche!”

Joe’s eyes narrowed instantly at the slur and he came back strong, lunging forward to seize the attendant by the collar but Alix stood up, trying to shove her way between them to keep the scuffle from getting out of hand.

The auburn-haired spy could smell the heavy stench of cheap wine on the older man's breath as she separated the pair and she knew there was no reasoning with him.

The drunken attendant spun on his heel, immediately heading for the compartment door, his final words slurred as his rage boiled over.

“Filthy swine! Nazi pig! You-”

Alix felt a block of ice drop into her stomach as the man’s large, gloved hand reached the door handle.

It was no secret that since the liberation, people of German extraction weren't exactly welcome in most of French polite society.

The épuration sauvage was in full-swing, thousands of suspected collaborators being beaten, tortured, and executed by incensed crowds of French people.

If this man went and ran his mouth off about a Werwolf Kommando on the train, Joe could be mobbed as soon as he set foot outside their compartment.

This chilling revelation seemed to flip a switch in Alix’s brain: If the man left their compartment, Joe’s life could be in danger.

She couldn’t take that risk.

Slipping behind the drunken attendant with the silent ease of a tigress, the world seemed to slow around her as her training kicked in. Hopping onto the seat for a better vantage point, Alix reached out and yanked the attendant backwards into the compartment by the collar.

The man staggered a couple steps back, thrown off-balance in his surprise, just close enough for Alix to deftly slice the small blade of her lipstick knife across his throat.

The weapon reached the targeted arteries with surgical precision, right below the larynx. Now unable to scream, the man could only gasp and gargle as his legs gave out and he sank downwards toward the carpet in a heap. Following him down to the ground, Alix gathered the excess fabric of her dress's skirt and slapped the material over the wound to stifle the bright arcs of blood that were spurting out like a gruesome fountain.

The pale lace was already growing heavy, turning from an icy blue to a deep, blood-soaked maroon, the arterial spray oozing through the delicate material slower and slower as the man’s heart gradually stopped beating.

Then the attendant went limp, his jaw falling slack as a sickening gurgle emanated from his cut throat, and the auburn-haired spy knew he was gone.

No loose ends, she told herself inwardly, repeating the instructions of her superiors over and over like a mantra in her head.

He could have gotten Joe killed. You did the right thing.

But did she?

She didn’t even remember pulling the knife, not really.

Not that it mattered: a civilian was still dead.

Alix’s hands were shaking as she stared down at the attendant’s lifeless form, too scared to see the shock and revulsion written all over Joe’s handsome face.

He’d never seen her kill, after all.

If he didn’t hate her before, he most certainly would now.

But when she finally looked up, there was nothing like that.

No disgust, no outrage, no fear.

Instead, there was the same old glint to his gaze and an unspoken warmth in his whiskey-brown eyes that filled her with a strange calm.

“Well ya didn’t hafta do all that, Zees,” Joe remarked finally as a small, lopsided smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“But I ‘preciate it. Nice to know you care.”

“I don’t,” the auburn-haired girl muttered as she knelt, quickly rifling through the corpse’s bloodied uniform for anything useful.

A billfold full of francs and an identification card from the train company.

Alix handed the wallet over to Joe, averting her gaze to ignore the way her pulse quickened at the brush of their fingertips.

“He was putting the mission in jeopardy,” she added lamely and straightened up, shifting the thick curtains to the side so she could undo the window’s latch.

“Yeah?” Joe snorted as he dragged the lifeless body by its outstretched arms to the open window and turned back to shoot her a sly wink over his shoulder.

His usual crooked grin quirked up one corner of his lips wryly, almost flirtatiously, and the knowing expression in his whiskey-colored eyes caused a small flurry of butterflies to appear once more in her stomach.

It was like he could see right through her.

“Well Ziskeit, ‘the mission’ thanks you.”

With a grunt, the scrappy paratrooper managed to haul the corpse half onto the window’s ledge before turning back to his partner.

“Now let's get this mamzer dealt with, huh?”

Alix hoisted the corpse's legs up, giving it a final, unceremonious shove out the window, sending it rolling down into the snowy French countryside somewhere.

That was one problem taken care of...But unfortunately, there were more where that came from.

"Madonna mia," Alix swore as she frowned down at the blood-spattered blue material of her dress.

“I gotta dump this somewhere.”

Joe took his seat again and shrugged, watching Alix's nimble fingers close the window once more and re-draw the curtains.

“So change then."

The auburn-haired girl balked, nearly losing her footing in her surprise.

“Right now?"

“Nah, next Tuesday,” the paratrooper deadpanned with a melodramatic roll of his eyes. “Christ, Zees, you're actin' like I ain't ever seen ya undress before. Hey, remember that one night at your billet when-”

“Don’t remind me,” Alix muttered, the infuriatingly obvious blush of her cheeks making her grit her teeth as the night he is referring to comes back in vivid colors.

She shook her head to banish the memories, her straightened auburn hair tumbling down her shoulders.

"Besides, it was a long time ago anyway. It doesn't matter now."

The lie tasted bitter as cyanide.

"Yeah?" Joe took another slow drag off his cigarette, watching the smoke curl up to the ceiling before he spoke again, his raspy tenor flat with thinly-veiled hurt.

"Guess that's the difference between you an' me. 'Cause to me, it matters a fuckin' lot."

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mads-weasley · 2 years

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For Me

Ron Speirs x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: Hiiiii! I haven't written in a while! Especially BoB! I do not own any rights to these characters. Enjoy!

Summary: After finally leaving the Ardennes and making it to Hageanau, (y/n) gets sick, leaving Ron to take care of her.

Warnings: none except for extreme fluff

(y/h/c) - your hair color

As the officer's jeep rumbled into the town of Hageanau, France, they all sighed in relief that they were able to get away from the frozen hell that was the Ardennes Forest.

Stepping off the jeep first, Speirs looked around the town, noting the bombed-out buildings surrounding them. He was brought out of his thoughts by a small cough behind him. Turning around, he extended a hand to lieutenant (y/n) (y/l/n), helping her off the jeep. Speirs frowned as he noticed how she swayed slightly on her feet. He gently grasped her elbow, leading her to a secluded spot.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, rubbing her arm.

She sniffed and let out a wet cough before rubbing her bright red nose. "Pretty terrible, Ron."

"Your cough sounds like it's getting worse."

"I'll be okay. I just need to go check on my platoon. They need t-"

"I can do that. Go lay down."

"Ron-"

"That's an order, lieutenant."

She narrows her eyes at him. "Fine, Captain."

He sighed and looked around, making sure they were alone, before leaning down and kissing her cheek. "Go rest."

"Yes, sir," she grumbled, walking toward the new CP as Ron watched her go with a grin.

If looks could kill, (y/n) was sure she'd be dead by now. When Ron walked into the CP later that day and saw her and Lip sitting on the couch, trying to work on paperwork, he shot them an incredulous glare.

"Captain Speirs, sir. This is Lieutenant Jone-." Lip weakly started, only to be interrupted by Ron looking straight at (y/n).

"For Pete's sake, will you two please go back and sack out? There's some beds back there with fresh sheets."

Watching (y/n) closely, he could tell she'd gotten worse since that morning. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her cheeks were flushed more than usual. What worried him most was how she was shivering under the thin blanket she was bundled up in and how her eyes were half closed and swimming with dizziness.

"Hey Ron, it's good to see you too," she whispers nasally.

Glancing over at her with a smirk, Lip spoke. "We will, sir. Just trying to make ourselves useful, sir."

Ron put down his things and made his way over to the (y/h/c), gently pressing his palm to her forehead.

"You're burning up."

She tried to take a deep breath, but it got caught in her chest, sending her into a wet coughing fit that had everyone in the room frowning. Speirs rubbed her back soothingly as she tried to clear her lungs.

Once she could breathe evenly again, he handed her his open canteen and she graciously took a swig of it to somewhat soothe her burning throat. With a small thanks, she gave it back to him. Ron's heart broke at the sight of (y/n) so sick. She was always the one taking care of everyone else, so he knew he'd have to make sure she took care of herself, too.

As he tucked a stray hair behind her ear, Winters calling him stole his attention from her.

"Regiment wants a patrol for prisoners." He announced.

(Y/n)'s head drooped in sorrow, knowing it was an unnecessary chance to lose more men. Hadn't they already lost enough?

As the conversation went on about the patrol, (y/n)'s thoughts became cloudier and cloudier until she couldn't really keep up with what was going on, only feeling the pounding in her head. She stayed in a feverish daze for a while, unable to fully focus.

A few hours went by as (y/n) stayed on the couch, unable to do anything under the haze of sickness that had fallen upon her. A little bit later, Speirs' face appeared in front of her again.

"Hey, sweetheart," he whispered. "You don't look too good. Please go back there with Lipton."

Looking to her right, she was surprised to find herself alone on the couch. How long had Lip been gone?

He felt her forehead again, grimacing at the hot sensation. "Your fever hasn't gone down."

"Yeah, I can tell. I feel like I'm back in Bastogne and Georgia at the same time." She took a breath, suppressing a cough before continuing. "One second I'm freezing and then I'm sweating like I'm running Currahee."

Looking into her (y/e/c) eyes, he could see the unfocused glaze that had taken over them.

"I'm sorry, (y/n/n), but please go to bed. For me."

Even in her feverish state, she could see the seriousness written on his face.

Sighing softly, she started to get up off the couch but instantly fell back down onto it, pressing a hand to her head.

"Hey, hey, hey. Are yo-"

"Sorry," she interrupted. "I'm...I'm really dizzy."

After another failed attempt at leaving the couch, she felt tears brim her waterline. She already felt terrible, and now she couldn't even get up by herself.

"It's okay. I'll pick you up," he whispered, moving to do so.

She quickly pushed his hands away, frantically looking around the room.

"Someone could see us!" She exclaimed wearily.

"And what?" he questioned. "What could they say? They saw me carrying a very sick officer of my company when they couldn't even stand?"

"Ron-"

"I'm picking you up now," he announced, quickly scooping her in his arms and making his way towards the back bedrooms.

"Don't you dare drop me, Speirs," she mumbled into his chest.

Looking down at her drowsy face, he smiled softly. "Don't worry. I've got ya, I've got ya."

Arriving at the room, he gently sat her on the side of the bed.

She sat there silently as Ron knelt in front of her, unlacing her boots and laying them beside the bed. Standing up, he slowly began removing her webbing, leaving her in her dirty ODs.

She peered up at him with teary eyes. "Thank you. For everything. I don't deserve you."

Ron shook his head, helping her to lay back against the pillows. "It's the other way around, (y/l/n)."

When she didn't come back with a snarky comeback, he realized how much she needed to sleep. With a lingering kiss on her forehead, he brought up the covers and tucked her in, laying an extra blanket over her shivering frame.

"I love you, now get some rest." He whispered, pushing the sweaty hair from her forehead.

As he started to walk away, a small gravelly voice came from the mountain of blankets.

"Can you stay, p-please?"

Looking back at her shaking figure, his heart melted. With a soft sigh, he nodded. "Just until you fall asleep, (y/n/n). I've got to plan for the patrol."

A lazy smile grew on her face as she pulled the covers back for him. Sliding in beside her, Speirs' eyes softened at how she formed her body to his, laying her head on his chest.

Within minutes, the steady rising of her chest told him she was asleep. He began to run his fingers through her hair, and before he knew it, he had dozed off, too.

"Speirs?" Winters called as he walked into the CP. "Ron?"

Looking around at the empty building, Dick had no idea where else he could be. Before he could come up with his next thought, Nixon walked in holding a bottle of VAT-69.

"Hey, Dick."

"Have you seen Speirs?" He asked, ignoring the alcohol.

Lewis' lips quirked up in a smirk. "Yeah," he chuckled. "Follow me."

Dick raised an eyebrow, following Nix further into the house. They came to a hallway and slowed at a door. Lew brought a finger to his lips as he opened the door.

Sure enough, there was Speirs, fast asleep with a very sick-looking (y/n) in his arms. Noting the surprised look on his friend's face, Nix closed the door quietly.

"Harry owes me 50 bucks," he chimed, walking back toward the main room.

"Wait, you bet on them?" Winters questioned.

"Are you surprised?"

"No," he laughed. "Not surprised at all."

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

#band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers x y/n #ron speirs fluff #ronald speirs x reader #ron speirs angst #ron speirs x reader #ron speirs #ronald speirs #ron speirs imagine #ron speirs x y/n #sickfic #ron speirs x sick!reader #band of brothers fandom #mads' fandoms

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daisyblinder · 1 year

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Importance of interaction

I cannot put to words how precious it feels when people interact with my writing.

It gives such a boost to continue writing and posting it, while also giving an interaction with you darling mutuals. Finding friends and people to talk to about writing or your fic, is one of the most heartwarming experiences.

Let's keep the community alive and encourage fic writers to continue doing what they love, so that writers and readers can both enjoy the creativity and the community. 🧡☺️🧡

So let's keep commenting, reblogging and liking each other's work, so that talented writer's won't start giving up on their craft.

#peaky blinders #Band of brothers #fandom #fic writing #peaky blinders fandom #peaky blinders fic #band of brothers fandom

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rogue-durin-16 · 2 years

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THE BRIDESMAID PROBLEM

Summary: Y/n and Joe's friendship, much like the war, came to an abrupt end in Berchtesgaden. Years later, in their close friend's wedding, fate provides them a second chance to mend what they broke off.

Pairing: Joe Liebgott x Reader

Genre: fluff-ish

Tags:

Band Of Brothers: @mavericksparky @chubbypotatoepie @tvserie-s-world

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @comfort-reads

Warnings: language and that's about it? Damn who am I

A/N: credit for the smacking on the nose goes to @itswormtrain thank you very much for putting that vivid image in my mind. I'm very aware of the fact that Liebgott didn't keep in touch with anyone from Easy Company after the war, but bear with me. Side note, this was originally going to be a Malarkey fic but I rewrote it entirely for it to fit Lieb lmao. That said, hope you enjoy <3

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

C'mon, Y/n, you can do this, I spurred myself, hand on the metallic door knob. You were a paratrooper, for God's sake.

Knock knock.

"It's open!"

With a slow push on the wooden surface, I was able to walk into the narrow estance at the back of the chapel that currently served as changing room for the groom and groomsman.

Before me, a very hopeless Floyd Talbert attempted in vain to do his tie knot, and a stressed Joe Liebgott muttered profanities whilst pacing.

"Sorry to interrupt, gentlemen." they both ceased their actions and turned to me with a surprised face. "Arlene told me to tell you that the... bridesmaid problem? Is solved."

Ah, the bridesmaid problem; Floyd's soon-to-be wife had gotten into a serious argument with her friend a few days prior to the wedding, which led to Arlene Hunt finding out she lacked a bridesmaid last minute.

Chaos had unleashed, until the bride's mother had laid her eyes on me. Soon enough, I was dragged into the ceremony even before I could go and greet Tab.

"Apparently, I'm the bridesmaid?" I announced, rubbing my hands with nervousness. "I don't-"

"Y/n Y/l/n!" Tab claimed my name with a smile, stalking across the room to give me a quick hug. "Didn't know if you'd make it."

"Matter of fact, I almost didn't." I laughed softly, returning the affectionate gesture. "The trip was dreadful. I just got here."

"Joe could've brought you here. He came all the way from San Francisco, too." That statement made us both spare a proper look at a starstruck Joe, half forgotten in the room with his mouth agape. "Right Joe?"

"Huh?"

"The cab. You two could've come together."

"Oh! yeah." He cleared his throat, scratching the back of his neck. "I'll... drive you back to your place after the wedding."

"You don't have to." I assured him.

"No, I will— don't fight me, it's fine."

I gave him a tight-lipped smile, clutching my purse as if my life depended on it.

Floyd puffed, his eyes traveling from Joe to me, and back to Joe. The tension heaved over us so visibly that it could have been cut with a knife.

"Okay I'm gonna go... Attend groom's matters." Talbert announced, gently moving me out of the way in order to reach the door.

"Ain't that supposed to be my—" Liebgott's words were cut short by the abrupt shut of the door behind me. "He's a mess."

"He is." I agreed, taking my hands to my back. "Floyd Talbert marrying. Who would've thought?"

"Fuck, not even him." Joe remarked, triggered an quiet amused chuckle on my part. "You look beautiful, by the way." He added, nonchalantly motioning at my form.

My cheeks heated ever so slightly, my gaze casted down to check the way I looked myself. "Why, thank you. You don't look so bad yourself."

He clicked his tongue, briefly giving his head a side tilt, eyes wandering off to the side of the room while he shoved his hands in his pockets. "Had to look sharp for today."

"Well, you sure do."

We both shared a nervous look and seemed to wander the same thing. Gosh, where was this awkwardness coming from? Floyd, Joe and I used to be as thick as thieves. Now we couldn't even hold a proper conversation.

Drifting apart, time and the war were to blame, sure, but Joe and I had had a hand in it too.

Spring of '45

"—Y/n for fuck's sake!" Liebgott's hand made the door come to a halt and pushed it wide open, shortly after I had attempted to shut it behind me.

"I don't wanna hear it!"

"Too fucking bad!"

"Leave!"

I was very much aware that our shouts were most likely echoing through the whole hotel, which was the opposite to what we both would have liked, but the panic led me to have a very irrational response to Joe's words.

With a huff, he turned, not to leave but to close the door behind him. At least we'd have some privacy. "If you don't wanna hear it then why'd you fuckin' ask?!"

"BECAUSE" I clapped my hands together. "I didn't THINK the response to 'what's wrong with you today' would be 'I think I'm IN LOVE WITH YOU'!" Throwing my hands in the air definitely added unnecessary dramatism to the situation, but I couldn't stop myself.

"I know that wasn't the ideal love confession you expected but—"

"What you're implying is unethical." Outloud sounded even more absurd than in my head, and I had to mentally facepalm myself.

"The hell— that's— feelings are not unethical, you stupid fuck!"

"Hey!"

"What a poor fuckin' excuse! You've always been bad at handling your feelings—"

"Look who's talk—"

"—but this one takes the cake!" He took a couple of steps in my direction and I could tell he was about to spiral. "I'm your fucking friend! The least you can do is reject me properly! And instead what— you run upstairs and try to shut the door on my face! you coward. selfish. assh—"

Smack.

Not giving a single thought to the impulse I had just felt sent us into an abrupt silence.

Joe lips parted in shock as he took a step back with his hand on his nose, while my own covered my mouth, eyes widened.

"Did you just... Smack me in the nose?!" His tone held outrage and disbelief in such a way that it was almost comical.

"I'm sorry." I blurted out in a whisper. "I dunno what—"

He had taken advantage of my frozen state to smack me back. Talbert's voice echoed in my mind; 'you two behave like middle schoolers'.

"Why would you do that?!"

"You smacked me in the nose!" Running his hands through his hair, he did a half turn and, after letting out a frustrated groan, faced me again. "Listen, if you don't feel the same way, just say it."

"Okay!" My mind buzzed with an answer that was so définitive, so simple, that it became difficult to voice. So instead of speaking the truth, I didn't speak at all.

" 'Okay' what?"

My mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water until the only coherent sentence I put together fell from my lips. "Fuck you."

I didn't stay to listen to his response. Needless to say, that chaotic argument we had in Zell am See, had been the last time we had spoken to each other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"what kinda bridesmaid bails the day of the wedding?" I commented with a frown in an attempt to make a proper conversation from a scratch.

"A stupid one." I an amused smile tugged on the corner of my lip. "Mind helping me out with the tie?" I shook my head in the negative before taking a few careful steps to reach Joe. "I told Tab I didn't like that broad." He explained while I passeohim my purse and reached for the undone tie around his collar. "Always saying shit to Arlene 'bout—"

"Alright, Joe, let's not speak ill of future Mrs. Talbert's friend." I warned with a quirked brow.

"Aye, Sarge." His mocking tone earned him a warning glare, which, as soon as I looked up at the ghost of his cocky smirk, turned into an endeared glance.

Oh, what I would do for that smile.

"You're staring." It was nothing more than a whisper, but it did the trick to snap me out of my daze.

"Am I?" My voice was just as quiet, my eyes leaving his face in order to focus on finishing the knot of the tie.

He hummed affirmatively. "Not that I mind it." Done with my task, I straightened the tie over his chest, giving him a pat on it. "I missed havin' those pretty eyes on me."

'And I missed you', I wanted to say, but a quick yet loud knock on the door made me step away from Joe. "Y/n, the bride's callin' for ya!"

"Comin'!" I gave my old friend an apologetic smile and stepped backwards to the door.

"See ya out there." He threw me my purse and I nodded, swiftly turning around to exit the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The church ceremony flew by; before we knew it, pictures had been taken and we all have a considerable portion of cake in our plates. The banquet had been simple— a frugal meal by the church, and lots of laughs and drinks.

As endearing as the couple of newly weds were, my attention seemed to keep drifting off to Joe, who kept wandering around, jumping from one conversation to another, occasionally having a drink alone.

"He hates talkin' 'bout the war." Floyd had explained to me. "Whenever someone brings it up, he leaves."

Understandable, I thought. The war was still a hot topic —to the dismay of most soldiers—; people would inevitably bring it up in every conversation.

Eventually, I joined Joe in his nomadic demeanor. We stuck together throughout the remaining of the celebration, much like we had done back in the church, due to our duties as groomsman and bridesmaid. The more we talked, the more my regrets weighed on me.

We had spent years without contacting one another, despite living in the same city. I knew I couldn't blame it all on my reaction to his confession, but it surely had something to do.

That memory, along with the last moments of our friendship back in Berchtesgaden, played in my mind during our trip back to San Francisco.

For better or for worse, we didn't travel alone until we were getting to California.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"There—" I leaned over the cockpit seat to point at the next turn the taxi would have to take. "That's my street."

"Huh."

"What is it?" I questioned, leaning back again for my own safety right before my very personal taxi driver turned the steering wheel in the direction I had pointed.

"I just never realized how close we live."

"Funny, isn't it?"

"I dunno if 'funny's the word." Joe muttered, slowing down the cab midway through the path. From there, it would be a mere three minute walk to my block, which was not bad, considering that Joe had brought me home from Indiana. "It was good to see ya Y/n."

"Joe?" He hummed, looking at my reflection in the rear-view mirror, the same in which I could see his eyes. With a deep breath, I shifted nervous in the backseat, unnecessarily accommodating myself. "I..."

Another sigh escaped my lips again when my eyes met his in the mirror for the second time. There was no trace of the previous curiosity in his look; his brows were now furrowed.

"You know what I'm gonna say, right?" His hand tightened around the steering wheel at my ominous tone.

"I think so."

Should I say it then? I thought. Maybe— no, not maybe; surely at this point it was uncalled for, unnecessary.

"Hold on, I'll pull up." Joe stopped me even before I could open my mouth, which I was thankful for. Purposefully or not, he had given me a couple of minutes to figure my thoughts out while he parked the vehicle.

Soon enough we both were climbing off the taxi with bowed heads.

"Okay, go ahead." He prompted me, leaning against the side of the cab.

"First of all, I'm sorry."

"See? That's how you should've started." "Not by smacking me in the face."

"I did not start by smacking you."

"My bad, you started by running away."

"I— okay yeah." I looked away in shame, an embarrassed smile twisting up my lips at the sound of a soft chuckle escaping Joe's. "Anyway."

"Go on."

"I'm sorry."

"You said that already."

"Gee, true. Okay I..." As hard as I fought the urge to avert my eyes from his, I ended up looking everywhere but at his face, rubbing my hands together in an anxious manner. "You're right. I'm horrible at handling emotions. I panicked. I— I loved you too." I finally met his gaze, relaxed and softened, and let out a relieved sigh. "I still do, I think. Just letting you know in case you don't wanna talk to me ever again."

I didn't mind what happened next, now that I had had the opportunity to get that information off my chest.

There was a moment of silence, after which Joe nodded. "Okay."

" 'Okay' what?"

He leaned on me with a shit-eating grin, hands still behind his back, pressed on the car's window, and whispered. "Fuck you."

"HOW CAN YOU BE SO PETTY? OH MY F—"

We had always seemed to have a habit of cutting off each other's sentences. Normally, it would play on our nerves, but in that moment in which Joe took a hold of my hands to bring me flush against his frame— in that moment in which his lips danced with mines under the stars of San Francisco, I didn't mind it at all.

By the hold he had on me, I don't think he minded it either.

#joe liebgott fanfiction #joe liebgott x reader #joseph liebgott fanfiction #joseph liebgott x reader #joe liebgott fluff #joseph liebgott imagine #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers fandom #hbo war fic #band of brothers headcanons #ross mccall #band of brothers x reader #hbo war #floyd talbert

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lenabob · 2 years

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See what I did there 👀

#band of brothers #band of brothers memes #easy company #band of brothers fandom #dick winters #george luz #carwood lipton #eugene roe #lewis nixon #ron speirs #david webster #joseph liebgott #frank perconte #bill guarnere #babe heffron #bull randleman #joe toye

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kilojulietsierra · 2 months

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#band of brothers #hbowar #ronald speirs #eugene roe #bull randleman #ron speirs #doc roe #denver randleman #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers fandom

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hedera-bellum · 2 years

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Dancing with Easy Company Headcannons

I’ve been thinking about this the past three days and I need to get it out there. Plus I got fired after working two days so I’m hoping this will cheer me up! So here we go…

Dick Winters

He not the most nimble when it comes to dancing, so he’d rather a slow dance than something faster paced

If it does end up fast paced, you’d better believe you need to be the one taking the lead

If not he’d probably be too embarrassed to continue leading

However, he’d be happy to ask for your hand to dance to any slow song

Lewis Nixon

Nix on the other hand may find slow dancing a little awkward and frankly too formal

His parents likely forced him to take a ballroom dancing class when he was younger, which left a bitter taste in his mouth

He’d be more open to doing a bit of swing dancing with you

Plus, if he’s got a couple of drinks in him he’d definitely be getting more involved, spinning and dipping you, and hopefully not dropping you

When it comes to dancing alone, if he’s drunk enough he’ll have no problem enjoying himself

Harry Welsh (Assuming he’s not with Kitty)

No matter how enthusiastic, Harry isn’t the most amazing dancer

He insists he’s saving his real moves for the wedding

Even if he’s a bit awkward to dance with, slow dances with him are always super sweet and intimate

If he’s ever watching you dance or just dancing alone, he sports the goofiest grin the entire time

Surprisingly he also knows many of the lyrics to the songs that play, so you best count on him partaking in a singalong too

Lynn ‘Buck’ Compton

Similar to Nix, his parents made him take ballroom dancing lessons as a kid

HOWEVER he had a much better outcome than Nix and turned out to be a pretty good dancer

99% of the time it’s going to be Buck pulling you out to the dance floor, weather you like it or not

Because of his experience with dance and you being his partner, you end up becoming decently good as well

If he ever stops for a drink leaving you to dance alone for a bit, he’ll spend the time bragging to the others about how good you are

Carwood Lipton

There’s no way he’s getting out there without you physically pulling him to the dance floor

If he’s not dancing with you is more of an awkward experience on his part and he’s much rather blend into the background with a drink in hand and watch the others

He wouldn’t admit it, but once you take the lead he’s a pretty decent dancer

Ronald Speirs

He’s not too keen on dancing, but there’s no doubt he’s a good one

He’d be more willing to invite you out to the dance floor if it was a slower dance

Dances with Speirs feel almost preplanned even if they’re not

He’s confident with every step he takes and will guide you through anything you’re unsure of

Donald Malarkey

This man would be so shy going up to ask you to dance

If you were the one who asked him, it’d be so much relief on his part not having to start the engagement

He’d try his very best to dance like some of the other men who are more confident or experienced but would end up tripping over his own feet

You’d have to convince him that it isn’t as serious as he’s making it and try to get him to loosen up

Once you’ve gotten past that initial barrier, dancing with Malarkey is genuine fun, and could keep you up all night giggling

Bill Guarnere

He doesn’t like slow dances, period

Your best bet on dancing with Bill is some fast paced swing dancing, complete with lots of dips, twirls, pretty much the works

To others, you two dancing may seem more like a competition between you two more than anything else

Once things really get going, you may end up getting a couple of spectators seeing your little dance battle with Bill

Joseph Toye

Toye doesn’t really like dancing in general

He’d much rather hang by the bar and finish off a couple of drinks with you than getting all sweaty out there

If you force him to, he ends up moving like a limp fish in each step

He simply allows his body to move any way you make it, which most of the time ends up looking like you dancing with a life sized rag doll

If you scold him a bit, he might be willing to take part in a genuine dance or two, much to his dismay

Floyd Talbert

He’s cocky as hell when it comes to dancing

Chances are you are a better dancer than him, but you know it makes him happy thinking he’s teaching you something new

He’s not bad per-say, but you’ve seen better. Then again you’ve seen worse as well

For sure he’d be the one asking you out to the floor

Even though he’s cocky when it comes to dancing with a partner, when he’s out with his friends he tends to loosen up a bit

It’s pretty cute to see Tab goofing around and not taking himself so seriously, but you’d never let him know that

Darrel ‘Shifty’ Powers

You knew Shifty was planning on asking to dance with you even before you were at the party

You’d caught him recently practicing in the barracks dancing with his rifle as a faux-partner and trying his best not to have his voice shake when he asked for a dance

The night of the party you spent shooting glances his way waiting for him to finally make his move

Once he finally does, every dance with him is so sweet

He’s a little too nervous to try to pull off any extravagant moves but would much rather hold you close as you dance

George Luz

When I say this man is a MASTER when it comes to dancing…

He knows every move, every song lyric, every line dance, etc.

Because he’s so eager to show off these moves, he’d much rather do some swing dancing rather than slow

Sometimes people end up watching others dance, but when you and George hit the floor a circle clears in the center of the room and EVERYONE is watching and clapping along

Even if you don’t know how or aren’t a very good dancer, George will lead you in anything you’re unsure of. He can make anyone look like a pro if they’re dancing with him

Eventually by the time slow songs come on there is a welcome break where both of you are able to just lazily sway to the music before picking back up again

Frank Perconte

Frank has learned a lot of his moves from George

He’s not as cocky as Tab, but he’s pretty confident with what he’s got

As long as you’re willing to go along with what he’s doing and are able to take over if need be, you two make a decent pair

Although he doesn’t really mind slow dances, they always made him feel a bit awkward due to his height, especially if his partner is significantly taller than him

More often than not he’s not sure where to put his hands

Denver ‘Bull’ Randleman

Dancing with Bull is always extra sweet

Before you, he never gave a second thought about dancing and would much rather watch others

He tried his best to be elegant or swift on his feet, but usually it’s you having to take the lead with the dances

Either way, he’s happy to go along with whatever dance you want to participate in and will put his heart and soul into every step

Eugene Roe

Gene wouldn’t exactly ask you to dance but more so just end up meeting you on the dance floor during a slow dance and simply taking your hand

For slow dancing, he’s much more willing to take the lead

When it comes to swing dancing though, it’s up to you to take things up a notch

He’s more than willing to follow your lead with anything faster paced and will dip and twirl you as you wish

God knows he’d never let anyone know this, but he’s a hell of a line/square dancer, more specifically Zydeco (Creole/Cajun folk dancing)

Also, he’s pretty decent with playing different types of percussion when live music is involved

Joseph Liebgott

Even if it took a couple of tries, Joe would eventually find a way to get you to the dance floor

Once you give in to his pestering and join him for some swing dancing, of course you’re the one who has to pull him back by the ear to slow dance with you

He’ll give you this stupidly spiteful look the entire time you’re slow dancing, clearly regretting his decision to bring you out here in the first place

In reality, he’s nervous to do any type of ballroom dancing with you, as he thinks he’s going to look stupid or awkward with how lanky he is

If you find this out, you may be able to convince him to practice in your spare time after giving him a bit of a pep talk

Edward ‘Babe’ Heffron

Babe’s cheeks are so damn red the entire time you’re dancing with him

He admires how confident you are in the way you move and can’t help himself but almost want to just sit back and watch

He mostly allows you to take the lead and allow you to move him every which way you want, as long as he’s there with you

All things considered, the above only applies when you two are sober

If not, Babe appoints himself as your drunken hypeman for any type of dancing you continue with

David Webster

Web dancing is no less than awkward

If he put in the effort and actually got past his own mental barrier, there’s realistically nothing holding him back

He’d end up asking you to dance in the most cliché way possible

Web is determined to prove himself as a good dancer, assuring you he’s watched and taken notes on every dance film he’s seen

That doesn’t mean he’s practiced though

You’re better off taking the lead with him, otherwise you may find one of you helping the other off the floor

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andyeddieeee · 2 months

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Easy as Out of Context Group Chat Messages

#band of brothers #joe liebgott #joseph liebgott #david webster #lewis nixon #babe heffron #edward heffron #bill guarnere #richard winters #dick winters #hbo war #hbo war fandom #band of brothers fandom

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holdingforgeneralhugs · 2 months

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I can't quite believe it but I've surpassed 700 followers. I'm actually in shock. I can't believe there are over 700 of you beautiful people out there following my page. I love this community with my whole being, and I'm eternally grateful for every single one of you. ❤️

I've met some of the most wonderful people I know in this community. When I started this page, I was in a really lonely, unhappy place in my life. Band of brothers brought me happiness in a time where little else could, and I started writing on here as a way to test out my passion for writing and see if I was any good😅 I never could have imagined that it would lead me to a fandom where I would feel so welcomed, so happy and so at home.

There are far too many people that I've spoken to on here for me to mention them all, but there are a few that I've really connected with and would hope to be connected with for many years to come. @wecomrades @tvserie-s-world @ask-you-what-sir @wexhappyxfew @honey-im-hotdog @swiftwordsforwhattheyare @liebgotts-lovergirl you are the friends the universe sent to me when I needed you most and I'll always be eternally grateful for the honour of having you in my life. 💜

It's been a wild few years on here, and I'm looking forward for what's the come 💫

#band of brothers fandom #hbo band of brothers #tumblr friends #lifelong friends #I'm so emotional #i can't believe this #personal post

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mccall-muffin · 1 year

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Love vs. Hate - Part 7 // Joe Liebgott x OC

Previous Part Summary: Technical Sergeant Olivia Stark knows the military. Raised in a military family, a graduate of military school and OCS herself, she is transferring from the 82nd Airborne Division to the 101st. Between new friends and what appear to be foes, she becomes a part of Easy Company, 2nd Battalion, 506th PIR.

Warnings: Language, Drinking, minor Kissing-Incident

A/N: Here is Part 7 for you, my lovelies :) This is more of a filler, tbh. But not much longer, and we are going to war. Be prepared :)

Here is my Masterlist

Tag List: @brassknucklespeirs

October 17, 1943 - Aldbourne, England Next to Winters, I crouch behind a hedge. Now that we've done a few exercises in England and also had more tactical lessons, we're in another exercise, and again Sobel is faltering. Winters looks at his watch. "Sobel's late," he says, and I look at him. I can't say what I'm thinking right now because it wouldn't be proper, but I know Winters is thinking precisely the same thing. It was to be expected. Again, Winters looks at his watch. "Sir, we need to move," I say, and he nods. "We have to." "Sir, without Captain Sobel and 1st platoon?" asks Lip, and I look at him briefly. "It's a T intersection. We improvise. Double envelopment lay down a base of fire to cut the road in all directions. Lipton hook right with 1st squad. Tell Guarnere to move left with 2nd. Stark and I will be right up the middle with 3rd. Go," he tells Lip and then signals Bill what to do.

We do as Winters instructed us. As I walk forward, a man on a bicycle comes to a screeching halt. "Oh, dearie me. Bloody hell. You've done it now, yanks. You've captured me," the man says, raising his hands. I stop short and smile at the man. "Sergeant Stark, take cover with the others," Winters says, and I slide into the ditch with the men. "Just unbelievable. How can you let Sobel lead?" Bill asks me, and I shake my head as we hear the 1st Platoon. Then Winters looks at us again. "Good work, 2nd platoon. We took the objective."

"Wait, wait, wait. You guys did what?!" I ask in horror, looking at my friends. "We were messing with Sobel. So George did," Skip says, and George grins. "Yeah, but only because you idiots wanted it so bad." "So you guys are responsible for us having cows all over the place now?" asks Don, laughing. "You could say that," George grins. "Oh guys, you're really too much. But how stupid can Sobel be to fall for that?" I ask, and the guys look at me. "I don't know. But it's getting worse with him. From what I hear, Colonel Strayer was furious." We all laugh. "Can you imagine? Strayer folding Sobel up surrounded by wild cows," Don laughs.

We joke about it for a while longer when I spot Lip. "Oh, hey, Lip," I call out to him and stand up. "You got a minute?" He nods, and I take him aside a little. "What's up?" I take a breath before saying what I have to say. "We need to do something..." "What do you mean?" "About Sobel? It can't go on like this. Did you catch what happened today?" Lip nods. "If this man takes us to war, we'll all be dead within a day; I can guarantee you that." Lip considers for a moment. "I know. I've been thinking about it, too." "Yeah, and Winters and the others can't do anything. You know that as well as I do, so maybe the NCOs will have to step in..." Lip looks at me. "You do know, though, what that could mean, Liv, right?" I nod. "I'd rather be put up against the wall here than shot down by a Kraut." Lip takes a deep breath and seems to consider. "I see it the same way you do. At least we have other capable officers." "Yeah, but he's in charge." "That's true. We need to talk to the others." "Well, at least there's an advantage to having most of them together in one barn." "Yeah yeah, rub it in my face Liv..."

The other NCOs were not particularly enthusiastic about our proposal. At least a large part of them were not. Bill was immediately on board, as was Chuck, but Myron Ranney and Terrence Harris were not at all enthusiastic.

December 31, 1943 - Aldbourne, England "May I? Let me through, will you? Thank you," I say and try to fight my way through the crowd of people with a few beers. The bar is completely crowded with soldiers, but also with local people. The guys cheer for me when I finally get to the table. "Hey Liv, look," George says, holding up a sprig of mistletoe. "Really now, George? Again? How long are you going to carry around this mistletoe?" I ask, and he grins. "As long as it takes to finally work." "Well then, you can wait a long time," I laugh, and he snorts. "Oh, what the hell. It's New Year's," I then laugh and press a kiss to his cheek.

Again the boys cheer, and George's grin stretches from ear to ear. "Take what you can get, Luz, but she'll be kissing me at midnight," Don now interjects. "And who says that, Malarkey?" I ask him, and he holds his heart theatrically. "Come on, Liv, you're breaking my heart." "Sure I am."

For a while, we laugh and drink. As midnight slowly approaches, George pulls me to my feet. "Come on, Liv, one last dance in the old year," he laughs, and I let him lead me to the dance floor. George pulls me towards him, and we dance together. At five to 12, Skip, Penk, Don, and the others join us so we can toast together afterward.

Don presses a glass of champagne and a smoke into my hand. "Almost there," he grins, and I also smile at him. "Are we ready?" I ask my group of boys, and they nod. Then I look at my watch. "Okay, let's go! Ten..." I call out, and everyone joins in. "Nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one!" We shout, "Happy New Year!" and Don immediately embraces me. One after the other, I hug my friends and wish them a Happy New Year. For this moment, we fade out that we will probably effectively go to war this year, and many of those here will not make it through this year.

Don has his arm around me, and I let my gaze roam the room. Scattered everywhere are our friends. Bill Guarnere, Joe Toye, Skinny Sisk, Ed Tipper, Popeye Wynn, Tab (who, of course, has another woman on his arm), Chuck Grant, and all the others. I smile softly, glad to see them all having a good time. Then my eyes linger on Joe Liebgott, and my heart slips.

There he is, holding a young redhead in his arms and letting her make out with him. The smile dies on my face, and I swallow hard. Why does this hit me so hard? I can't care whom this idiot is exchanging fluids with, and yet I don't manage to avert my eyes.

"Earth to Liv? Do you copy?" Don prods me before following my gaze. "Liv..." "I need some air," I say quickly, pushing past him toward the exit. Outside, I breathe in the cool winter air and sit down on a barrel before lighting a smoke. It doesn't take long for Don to come out to me. "Hey, Sweetheart, you okay?" he asks gently, sitting beside me. "Yeah, why? I just needed some air." "Oh yeah, and this has nothing to do with Joe being in there with a redhead..." "Why the fuck should I care, Don? He can kiss whomever the fuck he wants! It's none of my fucking business." "Only that you want him to kiss you! And you just cursed in every sentence you just said." "Bullshit! I certainly don't want that." "You can keep fooling yourself, Sweetheart, but I think the case is pretty clear!" "You have no fucking idea what you're talking about, Malarkey!" I toss the smoke on the floor and stalk past him again back into the bar.

My gaze automatically wanders back to Liebgott, who is now sitting at a table with the redhead. But as quickly as I looked at him, I avert my gaze again. "You know you don't make it easy to make me believe you're not into him when you never have a guy. Not even for a date, and I know you've been asked, so don't even try that excuse," Don says as we sit back down. " What's it about?" asks Skip, and Don tells him briefly. "Well, maybe I'm just not like that, Don. Has that ever occurred to you?"

Don looks at me with a smug smile. "Yeah, sure, sweetheart," he says, taking a sip of his beer. "I'm afraid I have to agree with Malark on that one, Liv. You are and always will be a soldier. And you don't seem nearly as innocent as you think you are," Skip says, lighting a smoke. "And besides, you told me about your past yourself," Don adds, and I roll my eyes. "I'm really wondering why right now."

"Look, it's simple," Don says. "Just admit you're into Liebgott, and we'll shut up." "You shut up? Really? Is that even possible?" I ask, but they both nod. "Yes, we shut up, but you have to admit it. The words have to come out of your mouth." I think for a moment and let my gaze wander around the room. Of course, I'll never admit it, those two can wait a long time for that, but I need a plan B.

Suddenly, my gaze lingers on Tab. That's it. Tab is definitely playing along. "So?" a grinning Don asks me. "We're listening." "I... I'm not into Liebgott," I say, and Don slaps his hand to his head. "And I'll prove it to you," I say and stand up. Confused, Don and Skip watch me make my way over to Tab. As I stand in front of him, I tap him on the shoulder to get his attention. "Hey, Tab," I say, and he smiles broadly at me. "Hey Liv, what's up?" he asks, and I smile before putting a hand on the back of his neck and pulling him down. His lips land on mine, and his hands are on my hips faster than I would love. Oh yes, this boy has experience.

Of course, the kiss quickly becomes more forceful, and Tab's tongue slides over my lips. I allow it to do so and open my mouth. For a moment, Tab and I make out, and I'm almost sure everyone in the bar is staring at us, but I don't care. Then I pull away from him again, look him in the eye for a moment, pat his chest, and turn away from him again. "Liv, what...?" I hear a confused Tab behind me, but I don't care. Nor that Chuck, Skinny, and the others are looking at me with open mouths.

I sit back at the table with Don and Skip and take a sip of beer as if nothing happened. Don and Skip look at me with wide eyes. "Wow, I didn't see that coming," Don says, and Skip nods in agreement. "No, neither did I." "Good, now will you finally leave me in peace with Liebgott?" Don thinks for a moment. "Hmm, yeah, maybe. However, I'm still not entirely convinced. But one thing I can tell you is what your performance did." Questioningly, I look at my best friend. "Liebgott just left the bar ." I snort. "Yeah, probably with that redhead," I grumble. "You mean the redhead standing over there alone and left behind?" asks Skip, pointing in that direction. I look over, and sure enough. There stands the woman who had her tongue down Liebgott's throat earlier, alone, and there's no sign of him.

When I wake up the following day, my head is pounding. I lie on the bed for a moment but then quietly get out of bed. I put on my morning gown and get into the kitchen to make some coffee. Not long before, I hear another room door open; Don enters the kitchen. "Morning," he says, yawning. "Morning," I return. Don couldn't make it home yesterday; he was far too drunk. The family I'm staying with is out of town, so why it's not a problem that he remains here? "Coffee?" I ask, pouring two cups. Don sits down in a chair behind me. "Oh yeah, please!"

I set a cup down for him and sit down at the table. "Do you want something to eat?" I ask, and he looks at me. He looks pretty tired, which makes me laugh. "I don't know if my stomach can take it yet," I smirk again, and we sit silently at the table for a moment. "That thing you pulled yesterday was really... incredible," Don says after a while, and I bury my face in my hands in shame. "Oh please, can we not talk about that?" "Why? You made out with Tab!" laughs Don, and I groan. "Yeah, because you wouldn't leave me alone! It's all your fault." "Sure thing sweetheart. But at least you managed to make Liebgott jealous."

Questioningly, I look at him. "What?" "Well, Joe... He left the bar as soon as he saw you with Tab. I don't think that sight suited him at all." I let Don's words run through my head for a moment before I shake it and stand up. "Never mind. Breakfast?"

March 2nd, 1944 - Aldbourne, England I am late that morning. I manage to stand just in time when Sobel steps in front of us. He explains the program for the day and will be a real pain in the ass.

After a few exercises, Sobel finally lets us eat something. Immediately Don comes up to me and lifts me. "What are you doing?" I ask, laughing, but he grins. "Do you think I forgot your birthday?" he asks and puts me back on the floor. "Happy Birthday Liv!" Of course, this doesn't go unnoticed, and many guys wish me a happy birthday.

"And how old is our little bird today?" Bill asks, settling down next to me. I give him a quick look. "Twenty-four, thanks for asking," I grin. "Jesus, you're old, sweetheart," Skip grins, and I punch him in the shoulder. My gaze automatically moves to Liebgott, who is eyeing me. "You got something to say?" I ask him with a raised eyebrow. Liebgott looks at me for a moment before standing up and walking away.

Questioningly, we watch him go. "What's his problem?" I ask around the room. "He's an idiot; that's his problem," Bill says. He and Joe have had a bit of a strained relationship since the incident on the ship, even though that was almost a year ago. "Or he just realized you're becoming more and more perfect for him, dear Liv," Don teases me. "Shut up, Don! You really don't need to do that," I say, but he continues to grin.

As our break draws to a close, Don, Skip, Penk, and George gather around me. "What?" I ask, confused, and the four of them grin even wider. "Okay, you're freaking me out, guys." "We got something for you," Skip says then, and I frown. "That's not necessary." "Yes, it is necessary. Happy Birthday," Penk says, and then Don pulls out a small box. When he opens it, inside is a pretty little charm in the form of a silver feather. "You guys!" says I, taking it out. They still grin. "There is more," says Skip, and he hands me a pocket watch. "A pocket watch?" "Open it," Skip demands, and I open the watch. Inside are small photos of the boys. And it's not a watch, but a compass. "Oh, you guys are the best," I exclaim, giving them a big hug. "Just so you'll always have us with you should you ever get lost or something," Don grins, and I laugh. "This is just the best gift! Thank you, guys! Really!"

I take the charm, take off my dog tags for a moment, and attach the charm to it. Then I let it disappear back into my uniform. The pocket watch disguised compass I put into my jacket pocket.

"Liv?" someone then calls out, and I turn around. It's Vest, holding a letter in his hand. "It's for you," he says, pressing it into my hand. "Thanks, Vest." "Don't worry, and happy birthday!"

I look at the letter and quickly see that it's from Cindy.

My dearest sister

Happy Birthday! I am curious if this letter will arrive on time, but if not, at least happy birthday now.

We are now somewhere in the Gilbert Islands. It is scorching here, I can tell you. How are you? Are you in Europe already?

Somehow I envy you, Liv. Sometimes it's almost unbearable here, and the Japanese are really crazy.

I've made some really great friends here. Eugene Sledge, for example. He was nice to me from the beginning when the others were not. They weren't too thrilled about having a female soldier in their circle. They felt a woman couldn't be a Marine. I proved to them that we could, but I think you experienced that yourself.

How are you doing? And Malarkey? You told me about him. Have you still not fallen in love with him yet?

Let me know as soon as you know where you're being sent, okay?

Hoping to see you again soon.

Your sister Cindy

#Band of Brothers #bobedit #hbowar #hbo series #Joe Liebgott #Joe Liebgott x OC #Joseph Liebgott #Don Malarkey #Part 7 #Fanfiction #Fanfic #Band of Brothers fandom

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serendipitysae · 7 months

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band of brothers

”it’s the tiniest, smallest most minuscule everpiece of lint on one of my boots, what’s the worst that can happen ?”

#band of brothers #i didn’t choose to be this funny #Band of brothers jokes #Herbert is mad 🥺🥺#Band of brothers fandom #I’ll cook and clean for anyone who likes the show

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liebgotts-lovergirl · 2 years

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Beside You (Ron Speirs x Reader Oneshot)

Pairing: Ron Speirs x Female!Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

For @brassknucklespeirs (Happy birthday, lovely!! I hope you like this💖 )

A/N: Me, using a Marianas Trench song for a ficlet? You’re damn right lol 😆

When your tears are spent

On your last pretense

And your tired eyes refuse to close

And sleep in your defense

You didn’t let yourself cry until you were alone, Ron knew that much, so when he saw you disappear into the stillness of the frigid Bastogne night, he knew exactly where you were headed.

The days of ruthless shelling by the Germans had felled several trees in the nearby area, splintering them to bits…all except one, which lay across the snow a good 8-10 feet away from the rows of foxholes, tucked away behind a steep embankment, away from view.

It was the perfect place to seek refuge for a brief second and as the company’s only combat nurse, God, did you need it. Try as he might, Doc Roe couldn’t be everywhere at once and that was where you came in.

From your first day with Easy, you’d made it your mission to get to know every single trooper so that even in the heat of battle, when someone screamed “Medic!”, you could recognize their voice in an instant and get there. You would talk to them as you treated them, about anything they wanted: their families, their hometowns, sports teams, films, whatever they needed to keep them focused and awake. These men were trusting you with their lives and you would not let them down. You were friendly, hardworking, and dedicated to your field and your company; you never let gunfire or explosions hinder you. If you were needed, you were there.

It was your warm and selfless nature that had first caught the eye of the infamous Ronald Speirs. You captivated him. How could someone so generous, so full of life, be here, in a place like this? You were an angel trapped in Hell but it didn't dim your shine, not even for a moment. You would give the shirt off your back to anyone who needed it, always the first to lend a hand and the last to quit at the day's end.

Your vitality and generosity meant that you made friends easily, something that the withdrawn and mysterious Ron so envied. Like a magnet, people just gravitated towards you, happy to bask in your energetic glow, and Ron would watch quietly from the sidelines with a goofy smile on his face like a smitten schoolboy. You were like human sunshine, a balm to his hardened & war-torn soul.

When it's in your spine

Like you've walked for miles

And the only thing you want is just to

Be still for a while

But Bastogne…Bastogne was a whole different beast, even for someone as dynamic and exuberant as you. The conditions were abysmal, supplies almost nonexistent, and tensions running sky-high.

Most of the men you treated were lovely and appreciative of your care, but some… some weren’t.

You'd first heard the mutterings after the deaths of two Replacements. One had been shot by a sniper that no one had spotted in time and the other had taken the brunt of a particularly nasty firefight. Campbell and Ulrich were both good kids and in both cases, you had done your best with what little you had but it just wasn’t enough. The wounds were too severe and you didn't have the equipment needed to perform a surgery that risky nor could you do it by yourself, on the battlefield of all places. All you could do was kneel beside them, hands bathed in blood, and whisper broken apologies for not being able to do more as they passed.

Eugene, all too familiar with this sort of loss, told you that you needed to forgive yourself.

“There was nothin’ more you coulda done for 'em, cher,” he said as he handed you half of a bandage he'd scavenged.

But in your heart, you just couldn’t believe that and neither could some of the boys.

Roy Cobb had been especially close with Campbell and he had no qualms about telling the newest replacements and anyone else who would listen exactly what he thought had killed his friend and it wasn't the sniper's bullet.

"What killed him was her damn incompetence," he'd announced, deliberately loud enough for you to hear. "She should've let Roe or Spina treat him, then maybe he would've survived."

"Nobody wanted her here in the first place either," a mortarman named Lombardi added. "They should've given us a third medic instead of some nurse!"

Doc Spina was way out of earshot but your friend Eugene, who had been nearby, had already begun to argue in your defense when you had marched over to the disgruntled group.

These were men you had treated in the past, you realized as your tormented fury began to build. You'd risked your life to save these ungrateful assholes and you knew damn well that the moment they needed you on the battlefield, you'd have to do it again. and again. and again.

Cobb shot you a dirty look and muttered something involving the word “useless” and that was all it took. Heart pounding in your ears, you hauled off and punched him so hard that his nose began gushing blood, but the damage had already been done.

Speirs had heard the commotion from his foxhole and seeing you storm off, tears of frustration and hurt pricking your beautiful eyes, sent an icy rage coursing through his veins that surprised even him.

Who the fuck hurt you like that?

He was going to find out.

The wrath blazing like hellfire in his eyes as he stalked over was enough to make even grown men cower and the guilty parties quailed under his gaze. Ron dragged each one by the collar behind the nearest tree trunk, pinning them one by one with his forearm across their throats before they could blink.

“From now on, you will treat (Y/N) with the utmost respect,” he intoned, his voice eerily calm as he applied just enough pressure on their throats to make them cough. “You will treat her as if she were me. And if I ever get wind that you’re mouthing off at her or otherwise mistreating her again, so help me God, there won't be enough left of you to mail home in a cigarette pack. Is that clear?”

"Y-Yes sir," they'd gasped out and grudgingly, he let them dart back to their foxholes one by one like mice.

He had more important things to worry about.

And if your heart wears thin

I will hold you up

And I will hide you

When it gets too much

I'll be right beside you

Seeing you cry tore Ron's heart in two. You were sitting on that felled tree just behind the embankment, hunched over, face buried in your hands as your shoulders shook with silent sobs.

You were so overcome by your own anguish that you didn’t even hear him approach. Instead, he appeared beside you like a sudden dark spectre against the white snow, making you jump.

“Holy shit,” you yelped, hurrying to brush the tears from your cheeks. “Damn it, Sparky, warn a girl next time, will ya?”

Ron stood awkwardly beside you, hands shoved deep into his pockets, and you swore you could see a small flush of pink creeping up his cheeks and it wasn’t from the cold.

“Sorry,” he replied with a sheepish smile. “I forget I do that sometimes. I just…I was… I wanted to see if you were okay.”

He cursed inwardly.

What a stupid thing to say, Ron, he berated himself. She’s crying. Does she look “okay” to you?

You tried to return the smile but only succeeded in a wan grimace.

“I’m not okay yet but I will be.”

You sighed sadly and gestured to the red cross armband on your arm.

Overwhelmed or not, you were needed.

“I have to be.”

“(Y/N)…May I…Er, if you don’t mind, that is…?” Unable to quite get the words out, he just nodded to the empty spot beside you, earning him a genuine smile from you that filled his chest with warmth.

“Absolutely,” you replied with a small sniffle, lightly patting the place next to you on the log and effectively putting him out of his tongue-tied misery. “I’d like that a lot.”

When you're overwhelmed

And you've lost your breath

And the space between the things you know is blurring nonetheless

You hadn't exactly intended on telling Ron your whole life story but before you knew it, it all came tumbling out: how you'd grown up, what had inspired you to become a nurse, how much you loved what you did but hated what it did to you, and Speirs listened quietly, hanging onto your every word.

But when you admitted the toll it took on you to know how little a difference you were making, he balked.

“No difference?” He repeated, his hazel eyes wide with shock. “Are you kidding? Do you…Is this because of what those assholes back there said?”

You sniffled again with a deflated shrug.

“Assholes or not, I think they made their feelings pretty clear. It'd probably be better for everyone if I just put in for a transfer.”

When you try to speak

But you make no sound

And the words you want are out of reach

But they've never been so loud

Your words echoed in Speirs' head like enemy gunfire.

Transfer…Transfer...Transfer…

Ron felt like you'd just slapped him clear across the face. Come to think of it, he would've preferred it if you had. It would've certainly hurt less than the realization that he would lose you before he'd ever even told you how he felt.

He'd never been any good at romance. To be honest, he'd never really tried. Girls back home flocked to him like flies to honey but he'd just felt uncomfortable with the attention and tried to set them up with his buddies instead, all of whom were dying for a date.

Ronald Speirs was a man of action; communication was not his strong suit, which was one of the myriad of reasons he admired you.

You, who somehow effortlessly made friends wherever you went.

You, whose smile spread warmth on even the coldest winter day.

You, whose kindness made everyone that spoke to you feel not only heard but understood.

You who brought the light of springtime to his ever-present darkness, like Persephone to Hades.

He had never understood why you had made it your mission to befriend him since Day 1 when everyone else avoided him like the Plague but he was glad you did. His intimidating gaze and badass reputation didn’t scare you one bit and you had assured him with your usual friendliness that it would take more than some rumors to scare you away.

He couldn’t let you slip away now.

Trust in me, trust in me

Don't pull away

Just trust in me, trust in me

Taking a shaky breath and exhaling, the tiny clouds curled up into the frosty air in spirals as you stood up. After smoothing some of the ice off your clothes, you gave Ron one last, small smile.

“Thanks for listening,” you said earnestly before remarking with a self-deprecating laugh, “I promise not to be so depressing next time.”

You had just turned to leave when an invisible force compelled him to reach out and grasp your hand at the last second.

“Wait…Please.”

'Cause I'm just trying to keep it together

Because I could do worse and you could do better

The silence was deafening. You stared at Ron, too stunned to speak, and he stared right back, the green and gold flecks in his hazel eyes catching the moonlight.

Had it been any other time, you might’ve found it almost funny to see the infamous “Killer” Speirs at a loss for words just from holding your hand but right now…Right now, you could feel a tornado of butterflies in your stomach and you could tell that he was feeling them too.

“(Y/N), I…” he started before cutting himself off with a shake of his head. “Look, I’m no good at this and I’m sure you’ve probably got someone special writing you from back home already but…”

He rubs the back of his neck nervously with his free hand and you tilt your head, silently, as you watch him.

You’ve never seen him this anxious before, not even in battle.

Truthfully, you didn’t know a man like Ronald Speirs could get anxious. If the roar of gunfire and artillery didn’t faze him, you had thought nothing could.

“If you’re serious about transferring out, then you should at least know that you’ve made a big difference here, to the men…and to me…”

He cleared his throat stiffly.

“Especially to me.”

Your eyes must’ve been the size of dinner plates.

Was he saying what you thought he was saying?

“You are without a doubt, the bravest…the most dynamic…the most selfless woman I know,” he continued as his hazel eyes locked intensely with your (E/C) ones.

“Everything about you…You’re just amazing to me. And I know you don’t feel appreciated and with how things have gone lately, I don’t blame you one bit but damn it, (Y/N), you have to understand that you are vital to this company, not just for what you do but for who you are. We need you here.”

Ron took a shaky breath, exhaling into the frigid night air, before saying quietly, “I need you here.”

I will stay (right beside you)

Nobody will break you

He started to say more but before he could, you dropped his hand and launched yourself at him, knocking the breath out of him as your lips met for the first time. He gently took you into his embrace, causing both your hearts to race, the both of you smiling against each other’s lips. But in your eagerness to deepen the kiss, your teeth clashed slightly against his, sending you into a fit of giggles when you pulled away seconds later.

“Are you…Will you stay?” Ron asked tentatively, still holding you as if you were made of glass. “Please?”

At first, you were tempted to jokingly mull it over but the fear in his golden-green eyes immediately banished the thought from your mind.

This was Ronald “Killer” Speirs. This was a man who had stared Death in the face without blinking, a man whose ferocity and resolve on the battlefield were practically legendary, a man who could take a life with the same ease as one swats a fly…and yet, here he was before you, putting his whole heart in your hands, a heart most people didn’t even know he had.

“Of course I’ll stay,” you reassured him, the moonlight dancing in your eyes as you gazed into his. “As long as you'll be mine, that is.”

Ron gingerly cupped your face in his hands, the silky smoothness of his soft baritone voice making your heart skip a beat.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured as another slow smile spread across his face. “I’ve always been yours.”

And if your heart wears thin

I will hold you up

And I will hide you

When it gets too much

I'll be right beside you

Nobody will break you

#So this is my first ever oneshot & I hope it's okay 😅😅#soft!speirs #Ronald Speirs #Ron Speirs x reader #Ronald Speirs x Reader #Band of Brothers #Speirs x reader #Band of Brothers oneshots #Band of Brothers x Reader #HBO War #oneshots #Band of Brothers fandom #Ron Speirs oneshot

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bowdre · 2 years

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Revenge

Chuck Grant × Fem!Reader

I've had this idea swimming around in my head for a while, so I decided to finally get back into the swing of writing

⚠️I in no way own Band of Brothers or anyone/anything associated with the series. This is a work of fiction based off the actor portrayal of the real-life heroes⚠️

Like + reblog <3

Staff Sergeants Chuck Grant and Y/N Y/L/N were the typical you never saw one without the other. The two had been attached at the hip ever since Toccoa, first as friends, then as lovers.

The confession first came from Chuck, after Operation Pegasus. He was tipsy after a successful mission, his fellow sergeant could say the same about herself. She was practically covered head to toe in dirt, her hair was tied back and her breath smelt of cheap beer. But yet, Easy Company were not taken aback when they finally paid mind to the two and saw them engaged in a tight embrace, their lips locked together in a sweet but desperate kiss.

The two were promised to each other ever since.

Sergeants Grant and Y/L/N had a fruitful future ahead of them. They survived Captain Sobel, the war, and were able to celebrate V-E Day alongside the rest of Easy. Now, the only thing that was stopping the two from going back to America and getting a move on with their lives was the Japanese.

Y/N and Chuck each had a one way ticket to the raging war in the Pacific.

The wait in Germany was refreshing, though. Giving the two copious amounts of alone time, away from their beloved friends.

George Luz and Joe Liebgott found joy in making the bet: will Y/N get knocked up in the foreign land of Hitler's fallen empire?

The days seemed to pass at an agonizing pace. Everyone was itching to be shipped home or back to war. The homesickness was becoming almost unbearable, especially after watching Shifty Powers get the luxury of being sent back to America before the rest of them.

And yet, Y/N and Chuck seemed to make the most of their predicament. They would walk through the town that was previously occupied by high ranking Nazis, Chuck would gather a small bouquet of wild flowers and surprise his girl, and of course, an excessive amount of alcohol was consumed during the late hours. Y/N took a ride with Liebgott, Webster and Sisk that ultimately ended with the death of a high ranking SS. And to top it all off, Chuck was able to convince Winters to give him a military jeep for a night out of town.

Y/N decided it best to stay back and get a good nights rest, allowing him to have some time with his friends.

A loud banging on the bedroom door woke Y/N up from her deep slumber. The bedroom she occupied was lavish and comfortable, something she had never experienced in her 20 some years of life.

Upon throwing on her uniform decently enough to cover her skin, Y/N pulled open the door to reveal a quite shaken up Ronald Speirs.

"Sir-" she stood at attention for her superior despite her fatigued state.

"Y/N, you need to come with me." Spiers' tone was one Y/N had never heard from his mouth before. Panic. There was a pause of silence while the girl tried to collect her thoughts; "it's Chuck."

Her head was spinning now. Chuck? What could have possibly happened to Chuck? The war in Europe was over. They were at peace with the Germans. There weren't anymore bullets flying, or so Y/N thought.

"What happened? Where is he?" Y/N pushed past Spiers and headed towards the front door of the building she occupied. Spiers followed close behind; "is he alright?"

"There was an accident." Spiers was leading Y/N to where the German brain surgeon was operating on Grant; "Chuck, he was shot."

Y/N's eyes stung with tears. She blinked, and when the wetness covered her cheeks, she harshly ran her hands over her face.

"By who?" Spiers and Y/N were now walking side by side. He stopped on the street corner, an army jeep parked and waiting.

"I don't know. Not a Nazi."

"A fucking American?" Y/N's panic was now clouded by furious rage; "who? What's his name?" The two got into the jeep, speeding down the street.

"I don't know, Y/N." Spiers couldn't look at the girl. He couldn't stand to witness the distress she was in. They were never the closest of friends, but despite this, he cared for her.

The rest of the jeep ride was silent. Y/N couldn't say how much time had passed. Minutes? An hour? Either way, when her eyes finally landed on Chuck, her heart broke inside her chest. He was still, laid up on a dirty cot with bandages wrapped around his head. The German doctor was friendly, Chuck's friends had gone out to find the drunken assailant, and Spiers stood in the corner with his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

Y/N knelt down beside Chuck.

"Charles?" His real name rarely ever slipped from her lips; "honey? It's me. Can you hear me?"

Chuck was silent.

"Oh, honey. What happened to you?" The tears formed back into her eyes, her hand placed gently on his in fear she might cause more damage to him; "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry that I wasn't there to help you, to protect you. God, I'm so sorry."

Y/N was sobbing now.

"He will live." The German doctor cut the tension that enveloped the room. Y/N looked him in the eye. She gave a curt nod as a thank you.

Y/N turned back to Chuck, mumbling and rambling all sorts of apologies and prayers for him to wake up. She didn't hear the heavy door creak open, revealing Richard Winters and Lewis Nixon standing side by side. Spiers could easily read the look in their eyes: they found him.

"Y/N." Winters spoke her name with the utmost care. She slowly turned to look at him; "do you want to see him?"

Him. Y/N wiped the moisture from her face. She placed a tender kiss to Chuck's left cheek before standing up straight.

"Yes, sir. I would."

The news of Chuck's injury traveled fast within Easy Company. The assailant was a fellow paratrooper. A member of the Airborne. He was someone who was to be trusted, and yet, he shot one of his own. For this reason alone, he was showed no mercy when the men of Easy got their hands on him.

When Y/N strutted into the hotel of which her Company was occupying, she came face to face with Floyd Talbert and George Luz. They stood, both in surprise and to ask various types of questions. George possessed a cigarette between his lips.

"How is he?" George spoke first.

"Where is he?" Y/N reached down to her side, unclipped her holster and wrapped her dirt coated fingers around the handle of her revolver.

"How's Grant?" Floyd reached a hand out to grab her, to console her.

"Where is he!?" Y/N's voice echoed off the walls.

A moment of silence.

"In there." George gestured towards the small room on Y/N's left side; "the guys have already given him a good beating."

Y/N stood quiet, weighing her options. She was furious, she could feel it in every ounce of her body and soul. She wanted him dead. And she wanted to be the one who pulled the trigger.

She turned to Luz, reached a hand out and plucked the cigarette from his mouth.

"Thanks."

The cigarette was placed between her fingers. Y/N walked towards the room, now. Greeting her at the doorway was Bull Randleman. Frank Perconte had the man by the hair, tugging his head back. His eye was swollen shut, and black and blue. He was bleeding from his nose and lips, a flow of red cascading down onto his uniform.

"This is him?" Y/N asked. All she saw when she stood in front of the seated man was a piece of scum. A piece of scum who shot her boyfriend. He coughed violently.

"That's him." Bull stood behind her protectively; "replacement. I Company"

Y/N's blood was boiling. Her attention flickered to the cigarette between her fingers, switching its position so she could taste the toxic fumes on her tongue.

"Where's the weapon?" She asked, smoke spilling from her lips.

"What weapon?" The replacement gave a smug grin. He didn't feel threatened in the presence of the girl. Though, everyone in Easy had seen what little compassion she possesses when she gets her hands on an enemy.

Y/N took one last drag of the half burned cigarette. She deliberately blew the smoke into the replacements face before placing the burning embers onto his dry and cracked cheek. There was a slight sizzling sound of the replacements burning skin. He gritted his teeth to not make a sound of pain.

"When you speak to a lady, you call her ma'am."

She dropped the butt of the cigarette onto the hard ground and stomped on it with her heel.

Circling Y/N and the replacement, some of the men of Easy averted their gaze towards the ground. Everyone knew what the feisty young woman was capable of. Johnny Martin kept a strong stare on the girl’s hands, watching her grab her revolver and pull the hammer back. Joe Liebgott flinched at the sound.

Y/N aimed the barrel of the revolver between the replacements eyes. She appeared calm, too calm considering the circumstances. Perconte’s eyes grew wide as he took a step away from the replacement, his arms crossed over his chest. If she were to pull the trigger, he didn’t want to leave with the assailants brains on his uniform. Johnny moved backwards, now standing directly behind Y/N and beside Bull.

The replacement inhaled and exhaled heavily, the end of his life now becoming a very real possibility to him. It didn’t take him long to realize this was revenge for the shooting of Staff Sergeant Charles Grant.

Y/N’s hand was shaking now. Her eyes brimmed with tears, blurring the man in front of her.

“You shot him,” she started; “you shot my Chuck.”

Bull and Johnny felt compelled to stop Y/N, to grab her arm and tell her it isn’t worth the bullet, isn’t worth losing her rank in the military. But they knew it was. It was worth it to her, and it was worth it to them.

One of the first friends Y/N had made at Toccoa, Don Malarkey, closed his eyes in anticipation for the loud bang of her gun.

It never came.

Y/N placed the cool metal of her gun against the replacements forehead, gave it a harsh shove, then pulled away. Liebgott, who was standing beside her, exhaled the deep breath he had been holding.

The replacement gave a chilling chuckle at her actions.

“You’re lucky.” Y/N returned her revolver to its holster. She leaned down, a whispery tone escaping her mouth this time; “you’re lucky. I should have blown your brains out like you almost did to my Chuck.” Y/N stood up straight and kicked the front leg of the chair the replacement was seated on, tossing him around for a brief moment.

She didn’t notice she was sweating until she ran a hand through her messy hair, her palm touching her slick forehead.

“Have the MPs take care of this piece of shit.” She demanded.

Y/N took one last look at the man who shot Chuck Grant. In her eyes, he was nothing but a coward. Y/N’s feet swiftly removed her from the room, walking past all the pairs of eyes who didn’t think any less of her for not shooting the man. In fact, they admired her for coming face to face with the man who attempted to kill the love of her life.

“Grant’s dead?” Floyd Talbert bravely asked.

Y/N turned to face her friend.

“No. Kraut surgeon said he’s gonna make it. He’ll survive.” There was a silence in the room. Everyone could tell she had more to say; “guess we have to wait and see what the long term damages will be.”

“You should be there when he wakes up.” Liebgott said in a soft tone, one that was rare from him.

Y/N nodded, turned, and left the room.

“Alright, tough guy. On your feet.” Was the last thing Y/N heard before she burst into tears. Spiers was waiting outside the building for her.

She wished she pulled the trigger. She wished she wasn’t worried about the consequences. But, at the end of the day, Chuck Grant was alive. He was breathing.

Not even a bullet to the head could take him away from his beloved, Y/N.

#band of brothers #don malarkey #chuck grant #ron speirs #johnny martin #hbo war #chuck grant × reader #band of brothers × reader #richard winters #lewis nixon #bull randleman #george luz #floyd talbert #easy company #joe liebgott #band of brothers fandom #david webster #skinny sisk

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