#band of brothers x reader fanfic

[luminouslywriting]

Chapter 2: Toccoa, Georgia (The Prophecy)—A Band of Brothers Fanfic

A/N: I am so so so so SO sorry this is out late. This past week was super hectic! I hope that you really enjoy the chapter. I did my best to make it my own and different from other beginnings of BoB that I've seen, so you'll have to let me know what you think! Also, as a side note—I did, in fact, live in Toccoa area for 13 weeks a couple years back, so I actually do love that place!

Winnie could say that she had never been to Toccoa Georgia for any reason in her short lifetime and would probably have no desire to ever return. Though there wasn’t any snow on the ground here, it was just as gloomy as the rest of Georgia was in the winter months.  Everywhere she looked, there were men in uniforms and people bustling towards the wartime factories that had popped up.  

Her arrival at Camp Toccoa was a rather quiet affair, and so there she sat in a wooden chair inside a small waiting area.  Occasionally, Winnie glanced over at the precipitation building on the windows.  When she was a kid, she had long periods of waiting like this one—where her father was in jail or at some bar and she would just wait for him to come back home. 

It would usually rain—and considering how the weather in Georgia changed as quickly as a summer breeze, Winnie had taken to counting droplets of water as a way to keep her focus on something that she could control. 

The simple fact of the matter was that Winnie had precious little control over a lot of the circumstances in her life.  But the things that she did have control over, she kept those things close to her chest; clung to them like they were her most precious possessions and no one would ever come close enough to take that freedom of control away from her again. 

She clicked her heeled shoes together exactly once, eyes straying to the scuff marks on her simple church shoes.  She wondered how her brothers were all faring in their training at the moment.  If they were all coping with the reality of what war would be—if they were prepared to go and be on their own. 

Richie wasn’t the one she was worried about.  He was two years younger than her and was always rather serious.  He worked harder than anyone else that she knew and wasn’t one to get distracted by a pretty face or lofty promises.  Any day now, he’d be shipping out to go to the Pacific as a Marine and it made her truthfully want to follow him all the way down there and have his back with a gun herself.  

They were Allens.  And they trusted themselves and one another.  No one else outside of their circle of siblings had proven to be someone that they would trust their lives with.  But Winnie knew that they would never allow a doctor—and a female one, at that—to go down to the Pacific and be a part of the carnage and horrors there. 

Robbie was in the same boat, proverbially speaking of course, as Richie.  Set to go to the Pacific in a few weeks.  He was always so quiet and watchful.  Winnie hoped that it would serve him well to be on his guard and pick up on the things that the other soldiers wouldn't notice.  They had yelled a lot back and forth before he had enlisted—she had told him to finish his degree and go into the JAG-Corp.  He had told her to go to hell—which he had tearfully apologized for when she dropped him off at the train station.  

Winnie stretched out her fingers over her lap, letting out a breath.  It had been nearly thirty minutes of waiting to be allowed to see the Colonel—and this was just for him to review her application to join the Paratroopers as a Doctor and training officer for his medics.  She wished that the level of urgency the war truly had would transfer over to her wait time. 

Because if she needed to haul everything back to Buford, Winnie would almost certainly rather pick up and move to the Carolinas and try to sign up for a different branch of the military that would, in fact, utilize her. She hated being idle—hated being alone, even more than that.  

The younger three boys were the ones that needed supervision—needed all the prayers of the good congregation of Buford’s Christian Non-Denominational Church.  Nathan was the first problem in Winnie’s pleas to God.  That boy had been raised wolf-wild by herself and Richie and Robbie.  They hadn’t been much, but they had had each other.  He was always picking a fight with an older boy—and she could only hope that this whole army experience was going to straighten him out.   

Then there was Joshua, also set to end up in the Pacific as a medic.  That had granted her a degree of peace, knowing that his evenings helping her study for school were going to come in handy where he was going.  It might, in fact, just be the thing that ends up saving his life.  

But Charlie? Charlie was, in every sense of the word, hers.  She had raised him from the time of his infancy and so to Winnie Allen, Charlie was her child.  Currently, he was in Texas and Winnie had never been more grateful for the fact that the Air Force programs were long.  She would take those 9 months like a sacred gift from God that he wouldn’t be anywhere near the fighting—at least for a short while. 

And then there was her.  Just her—with no idea where she’d end up, with no clue what her side of the war would entail.  Which of course, would be typical of her life thus far. 

Just then, the door opened and a man stepped inside, clipboard in hand.  “Dr. Allen?” 

“That’d be me,” Winnie said, rising to her feet. 

The man piqued an eyebrow, but said nothing about the fact that she was a woman.  He just let out a weary sigh and gestured towards the door with his head.  “If you’d follow me, ma’am.” 

Of course, a moment ago she was Doctor, and now she was ma’am.  God, she loathed the South.  

Winnie obliged, following after the man with quick steps.  As they crossed out of the building and onto a dirt path, Winnie caught sight of some of the trainees—some of them in the field and doing jumping jacks in the field, some of them running towards a trail through the trees.  There weren’t too many of them at the moment, but that didn’t deter Winnie in any way. 

“Are these the officers that are in training?” Winnie questioned, speeding up her stride to match the man in front of her. 

He let out an annoyed breath.  “You catch on quick.  Sink will like that.  Though I can’t account for how he’ll feel about a woman applying to train our medics.” 

“I’m a trauma surgeon and doctor.  I think my credentials speak for themselves,” Winnie retorted dryly. 

No response from the officer this time, just a huff of air as he came to a stop in front of one of the buildings on the camp.  “Wait here, please.” 

Winnie just crossed her arms and waited patiently, inhaling the cool air.  Not even thirty seconds later, the man had returned and gestured for her to enter the room.  Winnie was grateful for the slight reprieve from the cold air as she entered the room.  And there, sitting in a chair and smoking a cigar, was Colonel Sink. 

“If you’d please take a seat, Doctor Allen,” he gestured at the seat across from his desk with his cigar.  Usually quick to follow orders, Winnie slid into the seat, looking at Colonel Sink expectantly.  It was another moment of silence before Colonel Sink set down his cigar and fully looked at her.  “I’ll be honest, we don’t see too many female doctors come through the military.” 

“I expect you’d see more nurses, sir.” 

“Damn right, we do,” Sink stated.  “This whole war—unpleasant business, not really meant for women.” 

“If I can speak freely, sir?” 

“I’d be appreciative of the honesty, if you did.” 

“You’re right, it’s unpleasant.  But those women are still going to bury husbands, sons, brothers, and fathers.  It affects them just as much as it does the men.” 

“I can’t say I disagree.  Your point?” 

“I’m not a married woman.  I’m a trauma surgeon and head of the trauma department in Buford General.  I was the top of my class and as it so happens, I don’t have any children or brothers—they’re all off in training to fight in this war.  I don’t particularly like sitting on my ass or fancy myself a factory worker.  But I can help you train damn good medics, sir.” 

Sink stared at her for a long time.  His gaze reminded her a lot of her mentor’s, from back in college.  He was always trying to figure out her angles too.  Trying to figure out if she was as good as she claimed to be. 

“I’ll be honest with you, Allen.  We’ve got hundreds—thousands—of men coming in the next few months to train to be paratroopers.  Now I want them to be the best of the best.  And if I want them to survive more than five minutes over there, then that means I also need the best of the best doctors to train my medics.  So I’ll concede to your point.  Your application was good—I’m a self-made man myself and I respect that work.” 

“Sir?” 

“But I’ll also be honest with you.  This isn’t going to be pretty.  It’s going to be bloody and long and tiring.  This isn’t the type of place where you can just escape from whatever life you don’t want to live.  At some point, you might be elbows deep in some man’s guts and I need someone unflinching.” 

“October 27th.” 

“Pardon?” 

Winnie shifted in her seat, leaning forward.  “October 27th, a man and his two daughters are brought into Buford General.  Automobile accident.  The man flung his arm in front of his daughter sitting in the passenger seat.  His arm was hanging by a few strands of muscles and he was going to bleed out.  Now the daughter in the passenger seat got impaled by a fence post—it went straight through her stomach.  The daughter in the back was flung through the car and landed 15 feet ahead.” 

“That’s both gruesome and tragic.   Your point being?” 

“I was the surgeon on call that night.  I triaged.  I assessed.  I delegated.  The father lost his arm but he kept his life.  The daughter who flew through the car wasn’t going to make it.  She was 11.  We were short-handed and I had to tell the nurse assisting me that the little girl wasn’t going to make it and that she needed to focus on the other one.  So she did.  We lost the one—but she was mostly gone by the time she had arrived,” Winnie stated.  “My point here is that I can give your men skills that they won’t get anywhere otherwise.  Real life experience teaching practical application of the skills.  Triaging, assessing, not hesitating in doing the work and saving lives.” 

Sink leaned forward in his seat.  “You’d be hard on them?” 

“I’d be brutal. Because that is exactly what they are going to face out there.” 

“You be the hard-ass doctor that trains my medics, then.  But if you’re gonna be here, then you’re gonna train like my men train.” 

“I’m not a fragile southern belle like Melanie Hamilton, sir.” 

“No, I imagine you’re not.  I’ll give you two nurses to assist with actual injuries on base—and based on performance, you and them might just end up traveling with us wherever we end up.” 

“Sir?” 

“What?” 

“Thank you for letting me advocate my case.  I won’t let you down.” 

“You sure as hell better not.  Or lots of good men are going to die and that’s going to be on your shoulders.” 

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

Within the first hour of being there, Winnie had selected her nurses from the pile of applications.  It hadn’t been that hard of a choice to begin with—some were just practical eliminations, and the rest were a careful read-through of letters they had sent in along with the application.  

Reba Garrett and Eileen Gray were the two chosen candidates that she had landed on.  Reba was from New England and had been working as a nurse for well over five years now, placing her as one of the older and more experienced women applying for the position.  But it wasn’t her experience that attracted Winnie’s attention—it was the letter, and the way in which she described wanting to do some real good in the war and that started with saving lives rather than ending them. 

That sounded exactly like the type of person that Winnie wanted to have on her side.  

Eileen, on the other hand, was from Savannah, Georgia.  While her experience time of only two years wasn’t quite as well-established as Reba’s was, it was the picture that she had included of her brother that caught Winnie’s attention.  Eileen’s brother had been stationed in Pearl and he had been one of the many men to be immortalized under the ocean there. 

That gave her motivation, it gave her righteous anger—and in Winnie’s eyes, it was exactly the sort of thing that God would do—place Eileen in her path to ensure that justice was seen. 

So Winnie penned her first letters to the two women that would soon be joining her here in Toccoa.  And then she took those resumes straight to Colonel Sink—who wholeheartedly approved of the decision, though it was made in haste.  Just another reason for him to see her as a capable doctor—as someone he could trust. 

And in two weeks time, Eileen Gray and Reba Garrett would be joining her at Camp Toccoa.  In the meantime though, Winnie’s own training was set to begin.  And she’d be damned if she let herself be torn down by any man—her superior officer or not.  She was determined to earn her place amongst the men here—and earn their respect.  Consequences be damned. 

[ithinkabouttzu]

HEEEEEEEEEEY!! i'm glad you're back, i really missed your writing and i hope you're doing well! 💕 i had made a request: Speirs with a shy girl, please 🥹

Speirs dating a shy girl!

a/n: Hi friend! Thank you so much for your request! I’m doing well, hope you enjoy!! ;) 💗

genre: Romance; fluff

warnings: none (that i can think of)

Description: Ron Speirs dating shy girl!

taglist: @executethyself35 @linhkhanhcps @1waveshortofashipwreck @grumpy-liebgott @barbeygirl @samwinchesterslostshoe @ronsenthal @sweetxvanixlla @mstiemountainhop @imaginethatneathuh @goodluckbabeheffron (If you want to be on this list, let me know!! :))

BoB masterlist

- Okay let me tell you, this man LOVES seeing you get all bashful around him, he thinks it’s adorable.

- He knows that he makes you shy, so he would purposely try and charm you just so he can see you blush as hard as possible. (only he can do it tho, if another guy did it… they would probs go missing)

- During the war, he knows you are a bit more on the shy side, so he would make sure to keep you under his wing for the most part. He would hate to see you be uncomfortable.

- In your relationship, he’s mostly the one who does all of the talking, not that he wears the pants or anything (he thinks he does lmao) but just because he doesn’t want you to get nervous when you are around people you don’t know that well.

- He’s very supportive when it comes to you not wanting to go to certain social settings or when you get very quiet around others, he completely gets it. “It's alright, doll, I don't wanna talk to them either.”

- He’s very very merciful around you, like a complete softie whenever you need him.

- He will happily become the social butterfly in the relationship if that means you aren’t annoyingly uncomfortable by having to do all of the talking.

- Also this is a bit off topic but like, this man would definitely loot a bunch of shit to bring back to you. I'm talking like, hundreds of little trinkets just for you.

- Ahh but he gets so happy and excited when you start opening your shell up a bit more to him. In the start of your and his relationship, he’s very patient in his pursuits because he knows how timid you can be around others.

- He literally loves seeing how close and comfortable you become with him after a while. In the end, Ron just wants to see you happy!

AHHH thank you for your request again! I’m sorry if this was a bit short! I hope you enjoy! 🤍

[bloodstainedsaint]

the sniper (joseph liebgott x sniper! reader)

summary: when you transferred from dog company to easy company following the battle of bloody gulch, you thought you knew what to expect of men in the military— though you really wanted joe liebgott to prove you wrong

word count: just over 3500

warnings: period-typical sexism & misogyny (big part of the story), very minor violence, denying feelings, mutual pining, reader lowkey has trust issues, full of other characters but hopefully no one's ooc?? also this fic is kinda messy 😭

notes: happy thanksgiving! enjoy this fic for the holidays 💞 also your favs AREN'T sexist, just confused

Gossip, you realized, was an easy way to kill time for the men of the military, especially with the recent news that there would be a transfer to Easy Company— the transfer being you, of course. You had no idea you were such a hot topic until you walked down a street of Aldbourne in search of the man currently in charge of your new company, Lieutenant Winters, and overheard a trio of soldiers discussing rumors as they sat around awaiting orders.

“Hey, have you heard that there’s a transfer coming from D-Company?” one said, lighting a cigarette.

“Whew, he must’ve not taken any smokes from Lieutenant Sparky, huh, Don?” another chuckled, stealing the cigarette out of who you guessed was Don’s fingers and puffing for emphasis, much to Don’s displeasure.

Huffing, Don continued, “He’s a sniper, apparently! Better than Shifty!”

“Nah, no one’s better than Shifty,” the third butted in. “Shifty can shoot you right between the eyes blindfolded.”

“Shifty would deny that ‘til he died, Penk,” said the second with a smile.

“It’s true, Skip! Apparently he tracked a target from 1,000 yards away and still got him in the head! Bang! Just like that,” Don said while he mimicked holding a rifle and firing.

“Psh, our boy Shifty could do that, or better: 2,000 yards, right?” Skip nudged Penk with his shoulder.

Penk shrugged. “Length don’t matter, anyway. It’s what you do with the gun, not how far it shoots.”

Skip and Don shared a look and grinned, the latter joking, “Don’t you mean distance, Alex? What, you insecure about something?”

The trio devolved into laughter and banter, but was suddenly quieted as Don patted the others and pointed at you approaching. Several other men standing nearby swiveled their heads to watch as well.

A woman dressed in fatigues, the shoulder of her uniform emblazoned with the Screaming Eagles patch, a M1 Garand slung around her back— they couldn't seem to get their mind around it. Disregarding their curious stares (you���d gotten a lot of them for the past two years or so that you've been enlisted), you walked past the group of spectators.

A couple of men whistled lowly, and a murmur spread through the small crowd. You stopped in your tracks for a moment, eyes downward in thought. Surely one of these men knows where Lieutenant Winters is. You turned on your heel toward the group.

“Afternoon,” you addressed the onlookers, who were now either standing up or gathering around in interest. Your eyes went from man to man, meeting inquisitive and suspicious stares alike, unfazed. “Anyone know where I can find Lieutenant Winters?”

“You, uh, you lost?” a diminutive man — Perconte, his name tag read — asked.

One with a strict face and a glower already etched into it — Martin — stepped into the scattered group. “Who’s asking?”

“Private (Y/N), sir,” you said with a quick salute that was returned. “I’m transferring from Dog Company to Easy Company. I was told to look for a Lieutenant Winters.”

The men exchanged a look amongst each other.

The man from earlier, Don, spoke up with awe apparent in his voice. “You’re a sniper?”

You turned to him with a curt nod. “Yes, I’m a sharpshooter.”

Then a lanky, scrappy-looking guy, Liebgott, entered with a smirk tugging upon his lips. Just by looking at his crooked smile and raised eyebrows, you knew he was going to cause you trouble. Just another man ogling at you like you're nothing but a pretty face. What else is new? “You need help getting around base?”

“No thank you, that won’t be necessary,” you swiftly rebuffed, turning your attention back to the rest of the men. You set them with an expectant look.

“You can find Lieutenant Winters over there at CP,” Randleman, a large red-headed man, said around a hefty cigar in his mouth, nodding his head in the tent’s direction. “If he’s not there, try the mess cabin.”

With a small smile, grateful that someone finally answered your question instead of asking more of them, you thanked him, saluted, and walked off.

As you started towards CP, you heard behind your back, “Did Roosevelt change something while we were overseas? ‘Cause I just saw a lady wearing paratrooper clothing with a rifle ‘round her back.”

“Very astute, George,” someone replied.

You could almost hear the smirk in Liebgott’s voice as he declared, “I’m gonna go talk to her.”

“Yeah, come back alive,” another voice — Skip, maybe — chimed in. “Speirs might’ve rubbed off on her.”

You only had a few seconds to mentally prepare yourself before you heard footsteps catching up behind you. Liebgott was now walking side by side with you, matching your brisk pace.

“Hey, (Y/N), right?”

You took a sidelong glance at him. “That’s right.”

“Joseph D. Liebgott. Technician 5th-Grade.”

“And is there a reason why you’re following me to CP, Liebgott?”

“Thought I’d show you around base, get to know you a little.”

“And I thought I declined your assistance,” you said firmly. “I was part of Dog Company; I'm not new around here.”

“Alright, how about introducing you to Easy men when you’re finished?” He threw a smile your way. “They’re curious about you.”

You slightly grimaced at the thought of being at the center of attention for so many strangers. “I’d rather not.”

“Why? They’re great guys. I don’t know about Dog Company men and their Lieutenant Speirs, but Easy men, especially Toccoa men, are different.”

They don’t seem all that different to me. You gripped the strap of your gun a little tighter. “Once again, I’ll pass.”

He shrugged. “You’ll warm up to us.”

A tense silence ensued. You did your best to not seem bothered by it. Usually by this point people gave up and stopped talking to you entirely.

“So, uh,” he began, running his hands through his hair. Of course you weren’t getting rid of him that easily. Your intuition earlier was right. “Why’re you transferring over to Easy? No offense, but we've got a helluva marksman already.”

“I wasn’t given a reason, just an order.”

“That so? Well, maybe you’ll take his place as our resident sniper, huh?”

“Looking forward to it,” you responded drily.

He chuckled. “You’ll fit right into Easy with the rest of the snarkers. Where you from, (Y/N)?”

You eyed him cautiously. “Lansing, Michigan.”

“Get outta here, you serious? I'm from there too!” Liebgott cracked a smile and gazed at you. “Man, I might’ve seen you around and just haven’t realized it. Could've been talking to you years ago.”

You pursed your lips. “It wouldn't have helped your chances, Liebgott.”

Grinning, he said, undaunted, “What chances? We're just talking. I wanna know the lady I’ll be fighting with.”

“You just want to know if I’m single or not. That’s all,” you icily said as the two of you neared the tent.

Apparently found out, Liebgott smiled broadly and stopped a few feet from CP while you continued walking. “Well, are you?”

You turned to face him. “Yes, I’m single, and no, I’m not interested in sleeping with you.”

You couldn’t see the smile melt off his face as you entered the tent, eyes searching amongst all the men and equipment for the tall soldier you’ve seen conversing with Lieutenant Speirs before.

“Private (Y/N),” a voice called. You looked in its direction and finally found Winters.

“Lieutenant Winters.” You saluted.

“You’re the new transfer, right?” he asked, beckoning you further into the tent for some privacy. You were thankful that most of the men here were too occupied with their own duties to notice you.

You followed him to a quiet corner. “Yes, sir.”

“Met the men yet?”

“Some of them.”

“Anyone give you trouble?” he asked gently. “You can tell me.”

You paused, thinking. Nothing past some inquisitive stares and a couple of questions. “No, sir.”

Winters perceived your hesitation. “If that changes, tell me. They're good men, but they might be a bit eager to meet you.”

You nodded. Liebgott certainly was. He analyzed your face for a second before continuing, “Try to get yourself acquainted at dinner before you go into combat with them. That’ll be all, Private.”

You saluted, knowing full well that you’ll most likely try to get a seat by yourself, away from the clamor of the men.

“Thank you, sir.”

-

It turned out that no seat was good enough to escape the onslaught of questions.

You had gotten there early and took a seat at the far end of one of the tables with a book in hand and not much of an appetite. Unfortunately for you, being one of the first ones there instead of a head in a crowd of people singled you out, and eventually you were surrounded by men wanting to know more.

“Hey, this is the new replacement I’ve been hearing so much about, yeah?” Bill Guarnere, or Wild Bill, as they called him, questioned, shoving himself into one of the seats at your table.

“Transfer, Gonorrhea, not a replacement,” Liebgott said from your side. When he had entered the mess cabin, you had attempted to hide yourself with your book, but to no avail. He had beelined toward you, beaming ear to ear as he slid into the seat next to you.

“You into books?” he said, eyes going from you to the book in your hands.

You thought that he might actually surprise you.“Yeah, are you?”

He scoffed lightheartedly. “What, you kidding? I love to read!”

A ghost of a smile graced your face. “What kind?”

“Oh, you know, Dick Tracy, Flash Gordon, mostly!” he said, seemingly proud of himself, and your smile disappeared.

Soon after that, people swarmed your table. If you were being fair, though, Liebgott had spoken for you for most of the night, making sure you could read in relative peace. If you didn't know any better, you’d say that he was just enjoying you being by his side, but you were still wary of any underlying intentions (let’s say, getting into your pants) he might have.

Yet, out of the corner of your eyes, you saw the way he looked at you from time to time with a small smile upturning his lips, and you wanted to believe he didn't have any.

“Transfer, replacement, whatever,” Bill brushed it off with a wave of his hand. “What I wanna know is—”

“—why she’s a girl?” Liebgott finished. “Jeez, I dunno, she’s only been asked this twelve times tonight.”

“If you’d let me finish,” Bill said with a pointed look at Liebgott as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, “I was gonna ask if she did shoot a Kraut from 1,000 yards away.”

“You’d be giving ole Shifty a real run for his money, ain't that right, Shift?” Joe — the other one, Joe Toye — said from beside Bill, reaching over to another table and shaking one of the guys there.

Shifty, you assumed, looked over and met your eyes with a kind smile. “No, no, I’m sure she's a better shot than me. Y'all give me too much credit.”

“That’s what being humble will get ya.” Bill chuckled and puffed from his cigarette. “Your spot as Easy’s best shot out from under ya.”

The table laughed, and you steeled yourself before uttering in a quiet, yet steady voice, “It was two men.”

A hush descended over the table. Liebgott turned to look at you. “What?”

“Two men. I dropped the first. The other one heard and started running. I dropped him next. Both in the head,” you relayed, without the humor of a storyteller but the gravity of a historian. You didn't know it, but you had a stony look in your eye.

Luckily, you were saved from the stunned silence by a man getting up and reciting a poem, but you could feel Liebgott’s eyes burning into you. With fear? Admiration? You weren’t sure, but you didn't dare look over.

-

Joe Liebgott was nothing if not persistent. For months now, he'd been lingering around you, flirting and striking up conversations with you. To be honest, you never outright said for him to stop (besides that one time in the very beginning when you said you weren’t interested), so you guessed he wasn't overstepping any boundaries.

Still, he seemed determined to get you into his bed.

“C’mon, I think we’d look cute together!”

“That’s what you think, Joe,” George said, squatting next to his friend, “Giving her heart eyes and all. Meanwhile, she looks at you like you're her next target.”

Brushing his teeth, Frank followed the other two’s gaze across the road, where you were happily talking with Bull and Shifty. He spat out the toothpaste residue on the ground beside him and said, counting on his fingers, “Seems like the only people she gives the time of day to are Shifty, Bull, Doc Roe, even Webster.”

“Who, if you'll notice,” George said, gesturing with a cigarette between his fingers, “are all quiet, reserved, well-mannered people. You, on the other hand, got a loud mouth and, uh, what’s it called, Frank?”

“A short fuse,” Frank supplied.

“Yeah, a short fuse. She probably thinks you’re trying to get into bed with her, in which case, you're shit outta luck.”

Frank said, shaking his head, “Scary, that girl. With her rifle and that look in her eyes.”

Liebgott exhaled. “But I’m not tryna just sleep with her! I even gave her some of my favorite comics ‘cause I knew she likes to read.”

“Yeah, real books, Joe— that's why she gets along with Webster!” Frank exclaimed. “You sure you didn't give her the pornos?”

George laughed. “That'd give her the wrong impression.”

Liebgott narrowed his eyes as you giggled at something Shifty said. “You’re right, maybe she doesn't like me.”

Standing up, George sighed and snuffed out his cigarette. “That’s not the point, Joe. I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”

“Yeah, like I’m her next target? You told me already.”

“No,” George said with an exaggerated eye roll, “like she wants more outta you. ‘Cause all she's getting is the impression that you wanna fuck her.”

Liebgott stood up as well, still watching as you laughed with Bull and Shifty. George and Frank patted him on the back.

“She’s all yours, buddy,” Frank assured with a sympathetic smile. “She makes heart eyes at you too.”

-

There were only a handful of women selected to serve outside of something like a nurse’s position; you just so happened to be one of them, most likely because of your experience with a rifle. So, you’d gotten used to the lustful ways some men would watch you, or the demeaning ways they would taunt you. You guessed almost all of them had never seen a woman with a combat position in the military before (or by the way some of them acted, ever spoken to a woman at all).

But such men only assumed that you had earned your jump wings by sleeping around with officers. They assumed that they should be able to get in on it too, or that they should condemn you for something you didn't even do, for being unworthy and unskilled all because you were a woman.

It had always been a difficult pill to swallow: your military career would be littered with scathing remarks and crude comments, and you’d have to be strictly professional or closed-off with most men lest you’d be seen as a whore rather than just “scary”. But the hardest fact to accept was the fact that Liebgott, for all the kindness he had shown you, all the times he talked to you like you were a human being— that he most likely had the same intentions as everyone else.

As much as you relished his company, his crooked smile, his jokes, his lingering touches (and as much as you had to pretend you didn't), you had to accept his end goal was for you to warm his bed. And sure, maybe he was more dogged with his efforts than other men were, and maybe your friends in the company had told you that he was a genuine guy, but you just couldn't believe that he had anything else in mind when it came to you.

Maybe all the criticisms thrown your way had affected you more than you thought.

With the success of Operation Pegasus, Bull had dragged you (not literally, though you’re sure he could've) into a pub in the Netherlands for some celebratory drinking.

You didn't drink, and you disliked pubs; the smell of booze and drunken people was often overpowering, but at least you found quiet company with Bull. Across the room from your table, you saw Liebgott staring at you with a smile and a drink in his hand. It seemed as though he had noticed you the second you entered.

“It’s alright if I leave you alone for a second, little lady?” Bull said, chewing on a cigar like usual. “You'll be fine?”

“Sure, Bull. Go enjoy yourself.”

The large man smiled and patted you on the back before leaving to talk to some of the other men in the company.

Not one to mingle, you were only a few pages into your book when you caught the attention of an intoxicated soldier.

“Look who it is,” Cobb said to himself, hardly standing upright. You recognized his voice, seeing as this wasn’t the first time he’s derided you. “Ms. 1,000 Yards, huh. Bet the officers over at Dog Company only made up that story so it looks like you had some use.”

You ground your teeth. Typically, if you didn't give someone like him the satisfaction of an answer, they’d leave you alone. Why defend yourself and give people another word to call you: bitchy?

“What's a woman got to do in the military anyway?” Bottle in hand, he shambled towards you. “Besides suck the dicks of the men who are actually fighting.”

Steadying your uneven breath, you tried to look behind him to find Liebgott, but his body blocked your view.

Taking another swig, he spat, “That why they transferred you over from Dog Company? Those boys got their fill of you and passed you onto us, huh? Fuckin’ good for nothing slut.”

“What the fuck did you just say to her?” You heard Liebgott’s voice and felt relief wash over you.

Cobb turned around, and you caught a glimpse of an incensed Liebgott, a fierce glint to his eyes.

“Tell me what you just said to her.”

“Oh, please, Joe, you trying to get her to suck your cock faster—”

He was interrupted by a fist flying his way, toppling the inebriated man. Liebgott got on top of him and began trading punches before the surrounding men, drawn by the commotion, tried to pull him off of Cobb.

Your eyes were blown wide as you stood there, speechless. Bull found you and pulled you by the arm out of the pub.

“But what about Liebgott?” you said, peering behind you.

Bull shrugged and did the same. “Seems like he was winning anyway.”

That night in your billet, all you could think about was the fury that twisted Liebgott’s face into one you only saw on the battlefield.

And it was all for you.

-

The next day, you searched for Liebgott at breakfast, the table feeling a bit more empty without him taking up his normal spot beside you, but he had found you first, as he usually did.

“Hey, (Y/N), can I talk to you for a sec?” he said, his hand on your shoulder. You turned around in your seat and were met with a slightly bruised Liebgott, a small cut across his nose. Concern filling your chest, you nodded, and his hand held your wrist as he led you out of the mess hall.

“So, uh, about last night,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes searched yours for how you felt about him bringing it up, but he found no hints in your unreadable expression. “I’m sorry for fighting Cobb for you. You're a strong woman, you could handle him yourself—”

Smiling at his uncharacteristic hesitance, you cut his apology short with a peck on the cheek. You pulled away and saw his temporary surprise.

“Thank you, Joe. I appreciated you standing up for me. It means a lot.”

His face broke into the widest beam you've ever seen.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked eagerly, the words spilling out of his mouth before he could even process what they were. “Shit, sorry, that was too soon—”

You answered his question by tenderly holding his bruised face with your hands and bringing his lips to yours. You could feel him grin into the kiss as he pulled you closer, and your heart just about melted.

Maybe you had gotten Joe Liebgott all wrong from the start.

“Great, he’s never gonna wash that cheek again!”

-

taglist: @mads-weasley, @ronsparky, @dcyllom, @malarkgirlypop

[blurredcolour]

Born To Be Yours

[One-shot | Sequel to We'll Meet Again]

Eugene Roe x Nurse!Female Reader

Despite the end of the war in Europe, violence still finds its way to the men of Easy company. Thankfully, Eugene knows just where to find you to get them help.

Warnings: Language, Weapons, Canon Typical Violence, Smoking, Treatment of Wounds, Medical Procedures, Hospital Settings, Questionably Written Cajun Accent, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes [Kissing, Necking, Dry Humping] - 18+ ONLY

Author’s Note: Slight warning - the events of this fic are centered around the shooting of Sergeant Charles E Grant. The title of this fic is based off the song 'Yours' by Vera Lynn. For your reference, the Cajun pronunciation of cher, Eugene's term of endearment for the reader, is 'sha.' Just to help you really imagine it in your head. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the HBO series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 3887

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

This kind of thing wasn’t supposed to be happening. Not here in Austria after the surrender of the German army. Not today, the anniversary of D-Day. And yet here Eugene sat, balanced over a stretcher bearing a motionless Grant, holding an IV of blood above his head as Speirs sped down the road toward Saalfelden where the 47th Field Hospital was set up on the edge of town. Talbert rode in the front seat, frequently glancing back at them over his shoulder.

It was a miracle Grant was still breathing after receiving the headwound, continued to breathe through the frantic bandaging and loading onto Speirs’ jeep.

“Where’s the nearest surgeon?” The Captain had barked and Gene had answered easily, known it immediately, because the nearest surgeon was with you.

After parting ways in Titz, following that very eventful Easter Sunday, your hospital had stayed precisely where it was intended to be – twenty-five kilometers behind the line as they advanced across Germany. You had surprised Eugene by sending your next letter not by post, but in the pocket of an ambulance driver who had been all too happy to receive a pack of smokes from you for his trouble. Your ingenuity had opened his eyes, and he’d sent his own reply back two days later, postage paid with chocolate from his rations.

Being able to write one another without the censors having a say, to share every detail of your daily lives without fear of the letter going missing – as long as you each chose a trustworthy deliveryman of course – was a relief after all the delays in communication the pair of you had previously endured. Eugene was admittedly disheartened when he learned that your station in Austria would be in Saalfelden with the majority of the 101st Airborne while Easy and the rest of 2nd Battalion found themselves a further seventeen kilometers down the road in Zell Am See.

There remained a remarkable number of things for him to do, and the lack of ambulance traffic, while a blessing, severely impeded your correspondence once more. In short, Eugene was feeling awfully guilty about the fact that he had not managed to visit you since the war in Europe had ended. As the jeep pulled up outside the requisitioned gymnasium that had been turned into the 47th Field Hospital, he was not certain if he hoped you were there or not.

He jumped off the back of the vehicle as Speirs and Talbert grabbed each end of the stretcher and the three of them rushed toward the building. Eugene hurried a few steps ahead to pull the door open, wincing a little as Speirs shouldered it open fully, sending into the wall with a ‘bang.’ There was a scurry of footsteps from down a hallway to the right before you stepped into view, clad in your white and brown striped hospital dress, a brown cardigan over top with the sleeves pushed up to your elbows. Concern etched your features.

“Follow me.” You said quickly, rushing to pull open the next door into the gymnasium itself. “On the table right there please, sir.” You gestured to a makeshift exam table built of filing cabinets and a cot.

“Chief Nurse?” A young woman poked her head out from behind a privacy screen and Eugene nearly tripped over his own feet.

Last he’d heard you were Assistant Chief Nurse, promoted after your natural leadership of the group of nurses during your nine hours of capture. You’d gone and gotten yourself promoted again. He fought the urge to grin at you proudly as they carefully set Grant down as instructed.

“Shirley, go fetch Dr. Brock from his office immediately.”

“We need a surgeon.” Speirs rasped and Eugene watched the girl halt her progress across the room and look back to you questioningly.

“Dr. Randall then, quickly.” You amended, shifting to begin triage on the patient by checking his vitals as Speirs took Grant’s hand in his tightly.

Shirley fled the room, returning in less than a minute with a dark-haired man wearing a white coat in tow – surely Dr. Randall. A cigarette hung for his lips as he looked to Eugene for the hand off.

“Shot in the head with a pistol, maybe twenty minutes ago? Bandaged and given blood by IV.”

He saw Shirley hand you a chart out of the corner of his eye and you quickly noted these things along with the vitals you’d been taking when the surgeon had walked in. Dr. Randall leaned down to lift the bandages, inspecting Grant’s wound.

“Jesus.” He muttered.

“What?” Speirs asked, looking to him quickly.

“He’s not gonna make it.” Dr. Randall said, taking a slow drag on his cigarette.

“Ya can’t operate on him?” Eugene asked incredulously. This man was a surgeon, this was his job.

“Not me. You’d need a brain surgeon. And even if you had one, I don’t think there’s any hope.” Dr. Randall rubbed at his eyes, obviously just as worn out from the endless number of casualties he’d born witness to, before walking off.

Eugene’s eyes slid to meet yours where you remained next to the spot recently vacated by Dr. Randall; felt his throat clench painfully at the look of deep sympathy you were sending him.

Speirs took a breath and turned to Talbert, breaking the stunned silence that had fallen over the group. “You find the shooter, I want him alive.” He pointed at him for emphasis before turning back to Eugene. “Come on help me.”

“What’re you doing?” Talbert asked, grabbing the end of the stretcher.

“We’re gonna go find a brain surgeon!” Speirs declared before they were off and running back towards the door.

“There’s a German hospital further into town, follow this road for five blocks then hang a left.” You spoke quickly, hurrying to hold open the doors to ease their progress back to the jeep.

“Thank ya, Ma’am.” Eugene nodded quickly, ducking slightly as it had begun to lightly rain while they were inside.

“Take care.” Your voice shook a little and Eugene looked back to you once he’d resumed his perch on the back of the jeep, watching you wrap your cardigan tighter around yourself as you stood in the rain, staring at him intently until the vehicle jerked into motion as Speirs took off in the direction you had instructed.

The hospital was easy enough to find, thanks to your directions, and Talbert secured another jeep there to carry out Speirs’ orders to find the shooter. The brain surgeon was not currently on duty, but Speirs was undeterred and demanded his home address, from which he fetched him out of bed to operate immediately.

“It will take several hours.” The German surgeon had warned them when Speirs had asked where the waiting room was.

“We’ll wait.” He had replied flatly, and Eugene had followed after him as a nurse led them into an empty room filled with worn chairs and a few side tables with outdated German periodicals.

Eugene watched Speirs sink into one of the chairs while he found himself unable to sit down, wandering the perimeter of the room quietly, mind turning over all manner of things, but always coming back to how reluctant you had looked to see him go. The guilt within him had multiplied astronomically – he had been a fool to not rush to see you the instant he could, and now your first interaction since Easter was purely professional and surely terrifying. Precisely why he had been so very reluctant to admit his feelings to you in the first place.

“Doc, if you’re not going to sit down, go talk to that pretty Chief Nurse, would you?” He muttered, pulling the garrison cap from his hair.

Eugene’s head whipped up to look at his commanding officer in shock. Shock at the fact that Speirs had had the wherewithal to notice the looks you had been exchanging over Grant’s prone form. Shock that he was allowing him the liberty to visit you. Pure shock.

“Otherwise, it’s going to be a very long couple of hours.” There was a dangerous edge to the man’s voice that made Eugene swallow nervously and nod sharply.

“Yes sir, I’ll be back in a few hou’s then, sir.” He moved to slip out of the waiting room.

“Be careful out there, Doc.” Came Speirs’ parting command and Eugene nodded once more before heading out into the street, thankful that the blackout was no longer in effect and he had the assistance of streetlights to retrace his steps back to the Field Hospital.

He made a much quieter entrance this time, finding the nurse, Shirley, at the desk near the door in the gym.

“Oh, you’re the medic from earlier – how is your man?” She asked in a hushed voice as she stood.

“In surgery with a German brain surgeon now…I was wonderin’ if I migh’ speak ta you’ Chief Nurse?” He tilted his head, and she nodded quickly leading him down the hall to an unassuming office door.

“She’s still here, working late again.” She laughed softly and knocked.

“Thank ya, Ma’am.” He nodded as she nodded in return before heading back into the gym as your door swung inward.

“Gene…” You breathed in surprise, peering into the hallway as if to confirm he was truly alone.

“Cher…” He murmured in response, tremor in his own voice this time, and your fingers wrapped around his wrist, pulling him into the moderately sized office.

Your arms pulled him into a tight embrace as you nudged the door shut with your foot. He buried his face into your hair, fingers curling into the knit of your cardigan against your back.

“I’m right here, Gene.” You sighed soothingly, arms holding him so tightly, so warmly, Eugene was convinced you might actually be able to fuse his broken pieces back together. To make him feel whole again.

“Merci, cher.” He managed to find his voice after a moment, pulling back slightly only to press his lips to yours tightly in a physical expression of his gratitude.

Eugene felt the tremble that rolled through your body in response, his hands gripping you tighter as your fingers wended their way into his hair making him shudder in return. There was something about your touch tonight that felt like he was playing with fire, your entire presence loaded with explosive charge that could set him off at any moment. He pulled his lips back quickly before he did something wildly inappropriate in your office and panted against your mouth.

“M’sorry I haven’ come ta visit ya.”

Your response was a breathless laugh that made him bite the inside of his cheek.

“I’ve barely left this office. I’m beginning to think this promotion was a curse disguised as a blessing.” You smirked and stole one more kiss from his lips before straightening to look over his face warmly.

“It’s late, and I know ya don’ work nigh’s no mo’e…” He tried to keep the admonishing tone in his voice light, but he was admittedly upset you were working after midnight, something that even he was aware was unusual for a Chief Nurse.

“You know too much, Gene.” Your fingers smoothed his hair gently, restoring order to the strands you had put into disarray, a fond smile stretching his lips as he truly adored hearing you call him ‘Gene.’

His heart had nearly stopped when it had appeared in your letters but to hear it leave your lips was heaven itself.

“Let me walk ya home, tha man who did tha’ is still out the’e.”

He watched your eyes widen before you frowned deeply, shaking your head in dismay. “Did you find the hospital?”

“German brain surgeon’s operatin’ now…”

You took a slow breath before nodding. “I usually have an MP escort me, are you sure you don’t have to get back?”

He shook his head. “Grant’ll be in surgery a few hou’s longah. Cap’n Speirs won’ leave ‘till it’s ovah. Told me ta ‘go talk to that pretty Chief Nurse’ if I wouldn’t sit still.” Gene smirked ruefully and you blinked rapidly before biting your lip.

“Perhaps we have not been nearly as subtle as we thought, Gene…”

He laughed softly under his breath as he watched you turn to collect your things, sliding a small utility bag over your shoulder before turning out the desk light. The desk itself was still covered in stacks of files and he couldn’t help but frown as it seemed that your late nights had barely made a dent in the work your new position had foisted upon you.

“Wait here.” You said once you’d locked your office door and walked a little further down the hall to knock on another door.

He could barely make out another man’s voice, it didn’t sound like Dr. Randall, so presumably Dr. Brock, before you swung by the desk in the gymnasium to wish Shirley a good night. One last stop at the MP office to the left of the entrance where you informed your usual escort you had someone to walk you home before the pair of you were able to step out into the damp night. Thankfully, the rain had stopped falling but the puddles on the ground were plentiful as Eugene offered his arm. He could not help his fond smile as you took it without hesitation, hugging his elbow close as you walked side-by-side.

“I’m quite close to the hospital actually.” You gestured down the road and he nodded, turning that way.

“Tha’s how ya knew…”

Your soft laugh made his stomach quiver slightly though he did not miss the yawn you tried to smother.

“Ya been workin’ late a lot, cher?” He prompted softly, vigilant to your surroundings but so far, the streets were quiet.

“Mm.” You nodded slowly before sighing. “Seems the Chief Nurse before me was not such a fan of paperwork. Maude was a fantastic leader, we’re lucky to have her as the Assistant Director of Austria base, but if I had known what was awaiting me in that office…well I’d probably have asked to help her more when I was her assistant.”

He felt you tug on his arm and looked down to you quickly to see you pointing across the street to a modest apartment building.

“We’re quartered here.”

Eugene nodded and led you across the street as you fished for the keys in your bag. He couldn’t help but notice that you were in fact only a few blocks from the German hospital where Grant was still undergoing surgery. He said another silent prayer to guide the hands of the surgeon to success as you led him up to the building entrance.

A pair of sharp cries cut through the night, making the both of you freeze briefly.

“Hey!”

“Stop right there!”

The voices were still a block or so away, but belonged to men that Eugene knew a well as his own family.

“Inside cher, now.” He said quickly, pulling you toward the building.

“Second floor.” You uttered quickly and he pushed you up the stairs front of him, hands on your hips as he could hear the voices of Talbert and Malarkey growing closer, accompanied by footsteps splashing through puddles and the rumble of a jeep engine close behind.

You stopped at an apartment door and Eugene noted your struggle to line the key with the deadbolt, gently but firmly taking it from you to unlock the door and push you inside. He was quick to close and lock the door behind him, wanting you nowhere near the drunken madman who had already killed at least two people tonight. He heard you take a breath as you turned back toward him and he gently covered your mouth with his palm, shushing you softly as he listened for further noises from the street below.

They sounded as if they were right outside, their voices rising up through the stairwell as his wide eyes bored directly into yours.

“Yeah, that’s him!”

“Get in the jeep you son of a bitch.”

The sound of the engine faded off into the night and Eugene waited a full minute before lowering his hand from your mouth, the only sound remaining being the pounding of his heart in his ears. He heard you suck in a breath, the only warning he was afforded before your lips collided with his. He stumbled slightly, startled a moment, before the adrenaline in his veins was transformed into white hot desire. His hands clutched at your lower back, pulling you tightly against him as he blindly stumbled toward the doorway he had glimpsed upon entering your apartment.

He felt your body impact with something behind you and pulled back from your lips quickly to see he had backed you into the kitchen table. He felt you rise up onto your toes, seemingly intent on sitting on the tabletop and his hands quickly seized your hips, aiding you in your efforts by hoisting you the last bit of distance. He could not help the smirk that graced his features as you gasped at his strength; hard-won through years of training and carrying wounded from the battlefield. His mouth quickly returned to yours, shuddering as your tongue met his eagerly, your fingers once more burrowing into his hair.

Eugene’s lungs began to ache from a lack of oxygen and he reluctantly pulled back from your lips only to begin trailing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your throat. Your shaky exhale filled his ears as your fingers began to tug at the buttons of his OD jacket, sending his own in search of the same on your cardigan. As he pushed the fabric out of the way, he slid his hands along your sides, sucking at the hollow of your throat, exhaling hotly against your skin as you parted your legs for him.

“Cher…” He rasped against your skin, gulping at the whimper that fell from your lips as he stepped closer, nestling between your thighs.

Your body felt so hot against him, even through his ODs and wool trousers, he was helpless not to press as tightly to you as possible, not even leaving a hairsbreadth of space. Your fingers curled into the front of his wool shirt, hips bucking against his slightly as you whimpered again.

“Gene!” Your gasped and he kissed you fiercely as his lower abdomen grew heavy with arousal, blood rushing to his already hardening length as he rutted against you obligingly.

The moan that rattled from your throat into his mouth had his head swimming, his baser instincts immediately taking over, demanding he do anything and everything to draw that sound from you again and again. His hands shifted to grip your thighs, pulling your body even tighter to his as he continued to move against you, delighting in your repeated cries of pleasure which he devoured hungrily. He barely noticed your persistence against the buttons of his uniform shirt until he felt your hands sliding around his torso with only the thin barrier of his undershirt separating your skin, a groan falling from his lips as he tore them from yours.

“Merde.” He hissed, screwing his eyes shut against the salaciously delicious friction between your bodies.

“Mm! I know that one…” You giggled breathily against his neck before your lips were on his skin, making his hips rock sharply against yours.

“Feel so good, cher.” He groaned again, hands shifting beneath the hem of your dress, beneath the hem of your slip, to find the bare skin of your thighs. Quite possibly the softest thing he’d ever touched.

“Yes, Gene.” You whined against his kiss-dampened skin. “Don’t stop.”

He grunted in agreement, fingers tracing higher to grip your hips, increasing the friction yet again as he rutted his fully hard cock against your underwear. The moan that fell from your lips contained an almost anguished tone and he had to grit his teeth against the desire to climax at just the sound of it. Your fingers were digging into his back through the cotton of his undershirt, hips echoing every motion of his as his fingers delved past the edge of your underwear to curl into the soft flesh of your buttocks.

“Oh god Gene I’m…” You panted, head rolling back, and he nodded vigorously, eyes latching onto your face, desperate to watch you fall apart in his arms.

Eugene had long been convinced that you could do everything with grace, and you once again proved his assumption correct as your eyelashes fluttered against your cheeks, your mouth falling open to emit a soft wail of pure ecstasy. Burying his face against your neck, he cursed harshly as his hips bucked sharply, all sense of rhythm and control abandoning him as his orgasm immediately overtook him. Sliding one hand out from beneath your skirt to brace against the table lest he collapse onto you, he smiled sheepishly as you grinned up at him, your lower lip caught beneath your teeth.

“Sorry, Gene…” You murmured, running your hands along his back soothingly, your chests brushing against one another as you both struggled to catch your breath.

He shook his head quickly and then tensed. “Do ya….are ya the only one billeted in he’e?” He glanced back toward the hallway, suddenly aware of how much noise the pair of you had made.

Your bright peal of laughter caught his attention, and he turned back to you quickly.

“You ask me that now, Gene?!” You teased, gripping the back his neck to pull him down for a lazy kiss as he huffed a laugh against your lips in reply. “No, just me. Chief Nurse perk.”

He relaxed with a nod, straightening slowly as his legs finally felt like solid muscle and bone once more.

“The washroom is just down the hall if you wa–”

“Be my wife.” The words fell out of his mouth before he could stop them.

He had intended to make more of a spectacle of it. Hell, he had intended to have a ring to put on your finger. But the way you were looking up at him now with glossy eyes still hazy with pleasure, crinkled at the corners as you smiled his favorite smile to date – he was helpless to hold them back.

Eugene held his breath as he watched your eyes widen, your mouth drop open, as his unexpected statement hung in the air.

“Are you…proposing to me Eugene Roe?” You exhaled and he gulped roughly.

“I understand if ya don’ wanna marry me, I still have ta go ta tha Pacific an’…”

“How could I say no, Gene, when I was born to be yours.” You eyed him softly but there was something about your words, and the way your lips were twitching with mirth, that tugged at the back of his brain.

“Cher are ya quotin’ Vera Lynn again?” He huffed and grimaced playfully at your answering laugh, yet felt his heart begin to beat double time as your hands cupped his cheeks and your expression grew serious.

“Eugene Roe, I would love to be your wife.” You nodded firmly and sealed your acceptance with a firm kiss that made his heart soar.

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

Band of Brothers Masterlist

Tag list: @ronsparky, @fuckoffthanos, @bcon24, @phyllisthefirst, @footprintsinthesxnd, @she-wolf09231982

[wcters]

𝗝𝗨𝗦𝗧 𝗟𝗘𝗧 𝗠𝗘 𝗕𝗘 (𝗖𝗟𝗢𝗦𝗘 𝗧𝗢 𝗬𝗢𝗨)

pairing: joe liebgott x fem!reader

word count: 2.7k+

summary: four times you question what you two are and the one time you finally figure it out

warnings/notes: established relationships, angst (were dealing with war), kissing, pda, some drug use (cigarettes), alcohol, swearing, weapons, violence | no disrespect to the actual veterans or any of the situations described and written here, this is based on the series and the character of joe liebgott. somewhat ib @softguarnere (if you would like me to change it/take it down i will. it’s not really similar but still). if anyone has any tips for writing for band of brothers, please let me know! longest imagine written so far, and a dedication to my boys skip and penkala

You never knew home could be a person . . . until you joined the army and were surrounded by it, by many different people, and the one person you trusted most ━━ Joseph Liebgott. It was unexpected. To outsiders, they wouldn’t even think you two would speak ━━ let alone be friends. Yes, both of you are different in many ways, but you’re also the same in many ways. Skip Muck, one of your other close friends in Easy Company, joked that part of your souls were intertwined and you two would eventually fall in love. In the beginning, you would laugh it off. But you soon realized how true that was.

1. 1942, TOCCOA, GEORGIA

The army was ruthless. You knew that it would be when you joined Easy Company a couple months earlier, but you didn’t expect it to be this bad . . . only because of a certain officer named Sobel. You swear he had it out for all of you, and lots of the men hadn’t done anything bad ━━ that you knew of. Most of the time your weekend passes were revoked for little things such as some dirt on your gun and a stray string (that wasn’t actually there, you checked multiple times), but this weeked you and Joe were lucky to still have yours. You don’t even know how you both managed that, let alone him.

You two were walking hand in hand down the dimly lit street. You were quietly humming a song as you looked at the various stores as you made your way to one of the bars your group frequented. A few other army guys could be seen walking with each other or a local girl hanging on their arm. On any other night you would’ve looked like any other soldier in the soft lights, but you had switched out your uniform for a dress you had hidden in your barracks. You had thought ‘why not? It’ll probably be the last time I get a chance to wear it’ and threw it on with some heels you borrowed from a girl you knew in town with a promise to return them.

The quietness of the street got smaller and smaller as you made you got closer to the bar. “Crowded tonight, huh?” The man beside spoke out loud, swinging your clasped hands. “I think to us it does, but to them it doesn’t.” You joked while letting out a chuckle. Joe did too before grabbing the door of the bar and opening it for you. You mumbled a “thank you” while music filled your ears. “I’ll find us a seat, you get us drinks.” You told Joe as he nodded and you went to search for a booth.

It wasn’t as hard as you thought it would be, and soon enough you and Joe were chatting and laughing while couples danced around you. Joe looked around as you sipped your beer before he got up out of the booth and lent out a hand to you. “Would you like to dance?” He smiled. You laughed before looking around. “Why not?” You agreed and got up, making your way to the dance floor as a slow song began to play.

While leaned your head on his chest as you danced with couples around you, you couldn’t help but wonder what you two were.

2. 1943, BROOKLYN NAVAL SHIPYARD, NEW YORK

The heat of the boat taking you to England was suffocating with all of the soldiers packed in it, but Joe managed to have an arm around you waist while you two were playing cards with Muck and Bill. You were just an observer, butting out after the third game and got lost every one.

“Jesus Bill! You must be cheating!” Joe yelled as the brunette man placed another card down, Muck agreeing sourly. You laughed at that while stealing the cigarette out of Joe’s mouth and taking a hit. “You’re just sorry losers.” Bill laughed at their faces. “You don’t get to laugh y/n, you quit because you kept losing.” Skip pointed at you as he saw your face. “At least I accepted defeat, asshole.” You could feel the small laugh that came out of Joe’s chest and imagined the smirk that was on his face. “She got you there, Skip.”

They continued playing for a little while, you and Joe taking turns smoking until Bill won again and Skip slammed his cards down onto the cot. “Calm down.” You told him, soft smile on your face. “I am calm, it’s just Bill keeps winning and it’s fucking hot in here,” the man gestured to the people around you,” I don’t know how you two are that close. I swear I’m going to die of overheating and you two are practically cuddling.” You made a face to your friend while Joe laughed and made a comment that you couldn’t hear.

You and Joe were really close, you basically almost on his lap at this point, but you had a reason. The boat was packed, not being much room to move around. You didn’t want to climb up all the way onto your cot, and you wanted to keep talking with your friends. Plus, you and him had to be close ━━ you were sharing a cigarette. “We’re sharing a cigarette.” You shrugged, grabbing the object out of his mouth as he yelled a “hey” as you took it. Skip gave you a look as if to say “that’s bullshit” and got up, going to find Penkala. You looked over to Bill and he looked down at his cards, smirk on his face.

You had a reason to be that close . . . right? Or was it something different?

3. 1944, NORMANDY, FRANCE

The gravel crunched underneath your boots. You had just landed somewhere in Normandy ━━ you weren’t sure, you had missed your DZ ━━ and were now on the lookout to hopefully find Easy Company and not some German looking to end your life. That’s why you had you gun aimed into the distance. Every little breeze that shook the branches had yoy freezing up and darting you eyes, only to figure out it was the wind or some rabbit that looked as scared as you. It made you feel a little less alone.

When another bush shook, this time a little longer than usual, you crouched instead of just freezing up, gun still trained to where the sound was coming from. You waited before slowly moving forward, trying to minimize the sound of the road beneath you. You saw the bottom of a pair of boots and it seemed you were both waiting for the other to speak first. That decision was chosen for you.

“Flash.” “Thunder.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when you heard that and then saw the multiple pairs of boots. “Y/n?” Someone called out within the group. You squinted trying to see who it was. “Bill!” You exclaimed in surprise before recognizing the few other people with him: Marlarkey, Wynn, Toye, Lipton, some people from the 82nd Airborne, and Hall, a man not from your company but you recognized him from Able Company. You quietly said your greetings before continuing on your way to try and find your rallying point.

After finding and following a set a train tracks, a situation happened where Bill shot before Winter’s Command, you reprimanding him again and jokingly pushing his head as he called you a “stupid mick” which you laughed at. Now the group was on the road to the rallying point. The whole time you had been thinking about Joe. God, you wished he was still alive. You didn’t know what you were going to do if he wasn’t. When you eventually got to the farm, you heard a familiar voice. You stopped as you saw each other before you began to run and give him a hug.

You could hear the mumblings of the other soldiers, but at that moment, you didn’t care. When you pulled away you grabbed his face. “Joeseph Liebgott, I would’ve killed you if you died.” You laughed with tears in your eyes as you checked him for and scratches and scars. “I wouldn’t dream of it doll.” He laughed too before pulling you back in.

You decided at that moment in time that it didn’t care what you two were, as long as you had him, you didn’t care. As long as you knew he was okay.

4. 1944, ARDENNES FOREST, BELGIUM

All you could see was white: the sky, the ground, even the trees that surrounded you, that partly acted as a wall. You were sick of it. You think you would feel this way for the rest of your life ━━ the look and feel of the freezing chill of the snow and forest. Maybe you would move to somewhere warmer, somewhere where it doesn’t snow and the lowest it would get would be 59 degrees Fahrenheit.

Imagining what you would do in the future always helped you get somewhat through the hard times, though a person was the one thing that was a blanket to you. He had told you he left to talk to Lipton, but he hadn’t been back for awhile.

As if the world hated you having a small moment of what little peace you could have, a light broke through the white sky. A yell of “incoming!” from someone near you, either Skip or Penkala, caused you to sink further into your foxhole, well what you could, and cover your ears as the bombing started. When you heard yelling with words like “c’mon!” and “hurry!” you looked up to see Skip and Penkala yelling out to Luz who was out in the open. “Luz!” You yelled to him, “get over here! It’s closer!” He followed your voice and jumped in, but as soon as you both turned around you saw Skip and Penkala get hit with a shell. You knew they didn’t make it.

It was over as soon as it happened, but you were so distracted with what had happened that you didn’t feel the burning on your side until George had asked you if you were okay. You groaned when you first felt the searing pain and lifted up your coat to see the blood soaking it. “Oh, shit. Medic!” You had been with a piece of flying shrapnel from the shell that hit the two. You didn’t have time to register how one of your best friends were killed before Doc Roe was at your side with Luz holding you so you wouldn’t move too much. “Christ, y/n.” Gene mumbled as he got a look at it before grabbing a bandage and wrapping it the best he could.

You were frozen now ━━ not from the cold, or the wound on your side that would cause you to get taken off, you were frozen with the realization of what just happened. You wanted to cry, scream, do anything, but you just . . . couldn’t. Everything around you was fuzzy and you didn’t register that the shelling stopped and you were being taken out until you saw Joe. Then, tears managed to fall and you started to sob. He was mumbling about how you were going to be okay and everything was fine as he followed you to the Jeep.

When you felt the rumble of the Jeep engine, you grabbed Joe’s hand as tight as you could. “I love you, you shithead.” You laughed as you told him. You didn’t know whether you would see him again, and you wanted him to know how you truly felt about him, and how much he ment to you. He froze for a second before leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I love you too. I’ll kill you if you die.”

You laughed one more time as the image of him started to get smaller and smaller as he let go of your hand, slapped the Jeep, and it started to move. You tried to memorize what you could see: his shadow, the way he stands . . . him. You closed your eyes and felt a tear make its way down your face, settling in with the other dry ones.

+1. 1945, BAVARIA, AUSTRIA

The almost-healed wound on your side was a reminder of what you’ve been through, and what you’d missed. You’d been stuck in the hospital since mid December. You attempted to go AWOL multiple times, but you had failed every time.

Your shrapnel scar had ended being worse than Doc Roe thought and you had to be transported to surgery. When you woke up and heard what happened, you immediately wanted to go back and find your company . . . and Joe. You knew you left on a weird note, and wanted to figure it out. That was looming on your mind, along with the grief you finally had time to face. Not really face, more like confront. It was one of the only things you thought about while in there. You hadn’t fully come to terms with it, but you had made some progress.

You had thought about how George was doing, and especially Malarkey. He was Skip and Penkala’s best friend ━━ you were a close second. Bastogne was a horrible place in itself, but having to deal with that while there, to you, was a death wish. You were worried for everyone, the people you left behind.

You had just gotten to Bavaria when you saw Colonel Sink, and he saw you. As one of the very few women in the army, you could say he had a soft spot for you (though you would never say it to his face). You had been told a very uninformative idea of where the airborne was located, but you had been wandering since you got dropped off.

“Sergeant y/n, is that you?” Sink had called out to you as the car stopped. You saluted before you replied with a “yes sir.” “You lookin’ for Easy soldier?” You answered with a yes and conversed for a little bit ━━ mostly about your time in the hospital and what you missed ━━ before he invited you into the Jeep to get a ride up the mountain that looked over you.

That’s where you were know as you made your way up the hill, the familiar rumble of the Jeep underneath you. You couldn’t deny the feeling of excitement and happiness in your stomach as you got closer. You soon heard voices over the engine and on the horizon silhouettes appeared. When the car stopped, you gave a quick thank you, saluted, and made your way to where some of Easy was sitting.

“Having fun without me?” You asked out loud as people turned to you. There were calls of excitement as they saw you and people made their way to greet you, but one of the faces you were looking for was Joe. You eventually saw him getting up from sitting in front of a wheel and you both made eye contact before people split and let there be a clear path to him. You didn’t have to say anything to let him know you were running towards him before jumping on him and giving him a hug. He held you right, as if you were going to leave again, and spinned you around as you both laughed.

He was still holding you, arms around your waist, but had let your feet touch the floor. “Hi.” You smiled. “Hey doll.” Those were the only things said before you lips crashed together and there were cheers from your friends around you. When you parted, your foreheads fell against each other. “I was so worried, I was afraid you weren’t going to come back.” He admitted. “You can’t get rid of me that easy Joe.” You joked before kissing him quickly again and then went on a mission to find Malarkey.

He was leaning against the side of a car, cigarette in his hand. You gave him a tight hug, saying everything you needed to but couldn’t, before parting. You sat and talked while Joe kept a close eye on you.

“Skip was right, y’know.” Malarkey said as he let out some smoke. “What do you mean?” You asked, looking at everyone and the view. “About you and Joe. How your souls are intertwined. I always laughed at it but seeing you two now, he was right.” You blushed and looked down before your eyes met Joe’s and he winked at you.

“I guess so. But hey, never doubt Skip. He always said that. Guess this is a nice payback.” “Guess so.”

You never thought a person could be home, but as you walk in front of the fireplace, your baby girl in your arms, you realize that it could be ━━ that it is. And you are ever so thankful you figured out what you two were.

[meet-you-at-the-north-star]

Save the Last Dance For Me

Summary: you and Dick have been dating in secret, until at a party he’s forced by circumstances (coff George Luz coff) to set things straight

Notes: fluff, jealousy

Word count: 1068

“I don't believe you actually have a boyfriend. You were saying that just to throw me off” The brown-eyed soldier insisted in a mocking way.

I smiled to myself and glanced furtively behind me, more or less where I knew the man I was secretely dating must have been.

“Oh you better believe it, George” I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall, looking at him quite amused.

“Then who is it? Why is it such a secret?” He asked rolling his eyes.

“I'm really not sure you want to know” I smirked, and that was certainly no lie.

“Alright, alright” he raised his arms in surrender. “Tell you what, let's make a deal: I stop asking about this mysterious guy if you agree to dance with me.” The tone was hopeful: “Just one song” He specified, noticing my raised eyebrow.

I didn't see anything wrong with giving him one dance, so I agreed: “Okay, but I don't want to hear another word about it.” I warned him.

He flashed a toothy smile and offered me his hand, in such a funny and theatrical way that it made me burst out laughing. "You're an idiot"

“I know” He winked.

We began to move to the center of the wide room, where other couples were already dancing. He wasn't exactly a talented dancer and kept tripping over my feet, making us both laugh.

About a minute and a half into the song, we managed to find a slightly more synchronized rhythm. I looked up at his face and little by little his usual playful smile had disappeared, his eyes instead fixed on me with an unusually serious and intense look that left little room for misunderstandings.

Uh oh, I thought. This wasn’t good news. I had been too naive to think that accepting to dance with him wouldn’t send involuntary mixed signals.

“George…” I said, instinctively moving away to leave more space between our bodies.

The song we were dancing to came to an end just then. “One more song?” He half pleaded, his expression so hopeful that it broke my heart a little. I didn’t want to be the one to do this to him.

I looked at him gently. “I'm sorry, I can't” I started to take a step back, but he didn't let go of my left hand, still intertwined with his, almost as if he was struggling and fighting the urge to draw me back to him.

“George” I repeated, voice calm but with a hint of warning.

Before I could do or say anything else, I felt a slight shift of air and then a hand coming to rest lightly on my side. I didn't need to look to know who it belonged to.

George’s eyes widened and he immediately let go of my hand. “Major Winters!” He almost stood at attention. “I-I didn't see you there”

I finally allowed myself to shift my attention to Dick. His gaze was firmly fixated on George and he was barely blinking. I saw no trace of anger or irritation in it (though I knew he was quite good at disguising those), but a clear determination that spoke much louder than words.

“No need for formalities, private, this is a party. I trust that you're having fun?” His tone was calm and polite as usual, but for once almost unnaturally so. As a consequence, it came across as slightly menacing.

George must have sensed the trap, because he soon started babbling: “Yes, sir! I mean…a normal, regular amount of fun. Nothing special going on here. Just one dance” He really stressed the word one.

“I'm glad to hear that” Dick smiled, at last turning his attention towards me. “Because I was really looking forward to this next one. Can I have the honor, miss?”

My heart skipped a beat at that. Jealousy was a new but certainly rather good look on him.

“Of course you can, major” I decided to play along even though it was pretty clear, what he was doing.

When I looked to the side, George had already vanished into thin air. I gave a small chuckle. “You didn't need to terrorize him like that”

“I did no such thing” he said with a smirk, quickly intertwining our fingers, while his other hand was still firmly resting on my right side. The band began playing a slower tempo, romantic song and I gladly let him lead me into the music. He was a pretty good dancer. Then again, I was yet to find anything he couldn’t do well.

Both of my eyebrows shot up. “Are you sure? What happened to keeping secrecy above all?” I teased him.

“Well, it felt like the situation required that I come clean.” He whispered very close to my ear. “Besides, you didn't seem to mind all that much”

I felt a warm rush of adrenaline going through my body, and hoped I wasn't blushing outwardly as I was on the inside.

I recognized it as the effect only he had on me. Being in his arms felt so natural and right, it left no space for doubt in regards to my feelings for this man, and his for me. And I really didn't mind one bit.

“Who are you and what have you done to Dick Winters” I shook my head in disbelief, laughing.

“Does that mean that I should stop?” He inquired.

Without interrupting our slow swaying back and forth to the rhytmn, I placed both of my hands around his neck, bringing him closer, allowing myself to stare straight into his eyes. “Don't you dare”

I saw a brief flash of hesitation passing through those blue eyes, like an implicit request for permission, and I nodded, smiling.

“I've been waiting to do this all night” He gently cupped my face in his hands and kissed me, slowly but ardently, in front of everyone.

I could hear a few gasps and cheers in the background over the sound of the music playing, but when we turned around everybody had gone back to the party acting as if nothing happened.

“You know, major, your men will definitely talk after this” I jokingly protested.

I could feel his smile on my lips as he kissed me again: “Let them”

[her-satanic-wiles]

Kinktober Day 10 - Aphrodisiac

Brother Imperator x Succubus!Reader

He’s newly appointed to the Ministry as head honcho, the man who makes all the decisions. You love a man in power thanks to the Dark One, especially when they try to resist your powers as much as the good Brother does.

Masterlist ⛧ Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Words: 7.7k.

Reading Time: 32 min.

Warnings: clothed man/naked woman, cunnilingus, degradation, face sitting, mentions of exhibitionism, mentions of public sex, multiple orgasms, predator/prey, plus size!reader, PIV sex, praise kink, public sex, unprotected sex, vaginal sex

Taglist: @akayuki56 @alien-the-ghost @amazing-bobinsky @angellayercake @anonymous-appreciation @babydestinyinfluencer @bitchywitchygardener @blossomsea @call-me-little-sunshine84 @copiaspet622 @cosmixxdust @copiasslut @dolceterzo @dopey-fandom-girl @faithisyours @ghoulishxdelights @hauntedharmonic-ghoulishhaunter @high-above-the-city @howlingco @inkstainedrat @kaijukimchi @kenken-the-shoggoth @ledger-kaos @magopi @megachaoticstupid @meliza1001 @miss-leto @mommy-dust @neganwifey25-blog @piaart @saintbowie @shycardinale @sister-of-sin-claudia @sisterof-sin @sodoswitchimage @the-did-i-ask @xiyingly @zombiesnips-blog

🔞 MDNI 🔞

Inspired by Trust In Me from the Jungle Book. This was almost a self insert and I’m not even sorry about it. Big bitches rise!

The glint of his grucifix was what first caught your eye, a shimmering beacon in the dim candlelight, pulling you from the shadows like a moth to a flame. You lingered in the hallway, concealed by darkness, watching the faithful sheep wander through the sacred space. The whispers of prayers and hymns filled the air, but all you could hear was the sinful pulse beneath their dark piety.

Your nostrils flared, taking in the scent of them—sex. The intoxicating musk of sweat and arousal clung to the congregation like a second skin. The lingering essence of their pleasure radiated off them, mixing with the incense that swirled lazily through the air. They reeked of it, their bodies pulsing with the afterglow of indulgence. The lightness in their steps betrayed how recently they had succumbed to their primal urges, fucking each other senseless in secret corners. You could hear them down in the dark basements, bouncing, and licking, and sucking and fucking, and screaming.

They were a quick meal—easy prey. You could snatch one of these writhing souls from the flock, drain them in the shadows, and be done with it. Their release would fill you, but it would fade soon after, leaving you hollow and hungry once again.

But the glint of his grucifix… it kept you anchored, drawing your eyes like a predator watching its prey. The two rubies clasping his blazer, blood-red and shimmering, held your gaze. And then there was the cross itself, pure diamond, gleaming with such sacred light it almost made your skin crawl. Almost.

You inhaled again, deeper this time, letting your senses stretch toward him. Him—his scent was different. Stale. Not a drop of sex clung to him. He hadn’t fucked in months. Not even a stolen touch to himself in the dark. The absence of lust around him made the tension in his body palpable, like an overripe fruit begging to be split open. His chastity, however voluntary, was a brittle mask, hiding the pent-up desires that pulsed beneath the surface.

A wicked smile curved your lips. Perfect.

All that caged need, that desperate yearning, it would make him so easy to seduce. His innocence, brittle as glass, would shatter beneath your touch. And the feast he’d give you… oh, you could taste it already. One deep, throbbing release from him would be worth more than a hundred fleeting climaxes from the rest of these sheep. You could already imagine the richness of his pleasure flooding your senses, satisfying you for months.

Your core stirred, a dark, hungry ache that bloomed within you. The thought of him between your legs, spreading him out like a banquet for you to devour—it made you shudder with anticipation. You could already see it. His body trembling under your touch, his breath quickening as you led him to the edge, until he begged you to push him over. His moans, thick with desperation, would echo through the hallowed halls, smothered by the walls that pretended to guard against sin.

And when you were done, when he had spilled everything he had, you’d consume him, leave him nothing more than bones on silk, a hollow shell of the man he once was.

Your hunger twisted inside you, fierce and demanding. The thrill of corrupting someone so pure, of taking that untouched lust and turning it into your feast, was nearly overwhelming. The thought of how his soul would tremble at the touch of your fingers, how his body would shudder in betrayal as it succumbed to your dark allure, was enough to make you nearly lose control.

You stepped forward, letting your power unfurl in the air, thickening it with lust, with an aphrodisiacic pull. He wouldn’t stand a chance. His eyes would widen, lips parting in unconscious longing, as you reached him. The sacred cross dangling against his chest would flicker with a unholy light, but it wouldn’t protect him. Not from you.

Slowly, you’d let your lips curve into a sweet, almost innocent smile—an invitation cloaked in desire. His knees would buckle, his resolve cracking under the weight of your allure. He would fight it, of course. For a moment. They always do. But that glint of fear in his eyes would melt away into submission, and when it did, you would descend on him like a predator that had waited far too long.

And oh, the sound he’d make when he finally gave in…

Sweet agony.

Your fingers twitched in anticipation. Tonight, you would feast.

You followed him, footsteps soundless as a shadow, your form gliding through the dim corridors like a predator on the prowl. He moved ahead, oblivious to the danger that trailed him—a lamb on its way to slaughter. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows along the stone walls, but not a single one betrayed your presence. The world around you didn’t stir, didn’t bat an eyelid to the demonic sister who crept behind their beloved leader, with hunger gnawing at her stomach and arousal pulsing deep within her core.

Your eyes never left him. Each step he took, each slight shift in his posture, was a symphony to your sharpened senses. His breath, though steady, carried an edge of tension, his body taut under the weight of devotion and years of unrelenting denial. But it wouldn’t be long now. You could already taste the fear that clung to him, faint and delicate, like the first drops of blood in the water.

He entered a small chapel off the main hall, the heavy door creaking as it closed behind him. You paused just outside, leaning against the cold stone, savoring the moment. Your tongue flicked over your lips. This was it. No escape.

Pushing the door open with a barely audible click, you slipped inside, the air in the room thick with the stifling scent of incense and the oppressive weight of sanctity. He knelt at the altar, his back to you, oblivious to the darkness that had followed him in. His head was bowed in prayer, the low murmur of his voice sending a tremor of something delicious down your spine. The grucifix around his neck gleamed faintly in the candlelight, a last desperate symbol of his faith.

He had no idea what was coming.

A quick scan of his mind revealed the woman he would worship. The image was vivid—plump and round, with thick thighs that could crush him, a waist wide and inviting, hips that swayed like a promise. Breasts so full and heavy that they spilled through grasping fingers, too much for him to hold, too much for him to handle. But it was exactly what he wanted, what he fantasized about in those dark, lonely moments when his mind wandered and his hand wrapped around his cock.

Your body rippled like liquid beneath your skin, your form bending and twisting, giving way to his fantasy. The change was smooth, subtle at first, and then unmistakable. Your hips widened, stretching the fabric of your robe as your thighs thickened, curving into the soft, inviting shape that had danced in his most sinful dreams. The fabric magically stretching with you, your waist becoming fuller, your breasts heavy and plump, swelling beneath the layers of cloth until they were too much to be contained.

The soft sound of your footsteps was swallowed by the stillness of the room, but he must have sensed something—an unearthly presence lingering just behind him. His body stiffened, the rhythmic murmur of his prayer faltering for just a moment. You stopped, standing over him, your shadow looming tall and dark against the stone floor.

“Who’s there?” His voice was steady, though you could hear the faint tremor beneath it. Fear, like a sweet perfume.

You smiled, the curve of your lips hidden by the hood of your cloak. “Brother Imperator,” you purred, your voice a velvet caress, dripping with a subtle seduction that made the air around you hum. “Do you not recognize your own flock?”

He turned his head slowly, his brow furrowing in confusion. The dim light caught your face, the faintest glimmer of something… wrong. Something predatory. His breath hitched as his eyes met yours, the weight of your gaze enough to make him swallow thickly. “Sister…?” His voice faltered, uncertainty slipping in.

You let out a soft, breathy laugh, stepping closer, your body towering over his as he remained kneeling. “You look troubled, Brother,” you murmured, the edges of your words tinged with mockery, though laced with a sweetness that made his cheeks flush. “Perhaps your prayers have gone unanswered?”

His lips parted, and you saw the faint glisten of his tongue, almost tasting the nerves that danced across it. You crouched beside him, your face now level with his, the dark fabric of your habit barely concealing the otherworldly hunger in your eyes.

He tried to stand, to pull away, but your hand was already there, fingers curling gently around his wrist—too gentle, too soft for the grip that sent his heart racing. “Don’t be afraid,” you whispered, your lips close to his ear now, your breath warm against his skin. “You’ve been so good… so pious… but I see the longing in you, Brother.” You tightened your grip just slightly, your touch a mixture of promise and threat.

“D-did Lord Lucifer send you?” He asked, hope in his eyes of a reward for his hard work.

No, Lord Lucifer did not send you… but he didn’t need to know that.

“Oh, yes!” you lied. “He delivered me unto you personally - to thank you for your service to Him.” You reached your hand up to stroke his face, the smooth jawline felt like velvet beneath the back of your hand. You allowed your thumb to catch on his enticing pink lips. “Would you let me bestow His gift upon you?”

You could take him by force, use his body as you wanted. You had the power. But the consent made your meal sweeter, far more succulent. The enthusiasm they’d throw your way made it taste that much more delectable.

His lips parted in a soft gasp as your thumb grazed across them, his breath trembling beneath the weight of your touch. The hope in his eyes was almost too sweet, too innocent, a deer in the jaws of a tigress. His gaze flickered with something between fear and excitement, the very idea that Lord Lucifer had personally rewarded him setting his mind alight. The heat radiating from him was palpable, his resolve slipping further with every second your fingers lingered on his skin.

“I…” His voice was weak, trembling with the weight of temptation. You could feel the hesitation, the vestiges of his piety clinging to him like a threadbare cloak. His lips brushed your thumb as he spoke again, softer this time, his words barely a whisper. “I would be… honoured.”

Your smile widened, a dark, sultry curve, as you let your hand slide from his lips to his neck, fingers tracing the line of his pulse—fast, frantic beneath the thin veneer of control he still tried to maintain. His blood sang with a hunger he was too afraid to name, but you could feel it, smell it in the air around him. It was intoxicating.

“That’s what I wanted to hear, Brother.” You purred, voice laced with sweet venom. You took a slow step closer, your body brushing against his in the dim light of the chapel. He inhaled sharply, his composure unraveling as you pressed against him, your presence a tangible force that enveloped him, pulling him deeper into your thrall.

His eyes flickered down, catching the faint curve of your body beneath the dark fabric of your robes. His breath stuttered again, a flush creeping across his face as his fingers twitched at his sides. He wanted to touch you, wanted to lose himself in you.

You leaned closer, lips brushing against his ear as you spoke. “I can feel it, you know… your need. You’ve worked so hard for Him. And now you deserve to be rewarded.” The lie rolled from your tongue so easily, dripping with sin as you let your other hand wander down his chest, feeling the shudder that rippled through him at your touch. His body tensed beneath your fingertips, but he didn’t pull away. He didn’t want to.

“Yes…” His voice was faint now, nothing more than a breath, a surrender.

You turned his face to yours, gently, like one might guide a lamb to slaughter. His wide eyes, filled with nervous anticipation, met your own, and you could feel the last remnants of his resistance crumbling like dust. He was yours now—completely.

His lips parted again as you leaned in, your breath ghosting over his skin, the tension between you palpable, electric. His heart pounded beneath your palm, his pulse quickening with each passing second. The hunger in your core twisted, urging you to take him, to devour him whole.

But you waited.

“Do you want this?” you asked softly, your lips hovering just inches from his. The question was unnecessary—you could already feel his answer in the way his body trembled, in the heat radiating off him. But hearing it would make it all the sweeter.

He swallowed hard, his voice shaky, uncertain, but filled with an eagerness he could no longer hide. “Yes… please…”

And there it was—the moment of consent, the breaking of his will. The words tumbled from his lips like an offering, and you could practically taste the sweetness of it.

Your smile deepened, dark and victorious, as you finally closed the gap between you, your lips brushing his in a kiss that was both soft and demanding. His breath hitched, and for a moment, he hesitated, his body frozen in shock. But then his lips parted, and he surrendered completely, melting into your touch, into the wicked promise you offered him.

The kiss deepened, and you let your power flow through him, subtle at first, a slow, creeping warmth that spread through his veins. His hands, once trembling at his sides, finally rose, fingers brushing against your waist, hesitant but needy. He groaned softly, the sound vibrating against your lips as he pressed closer, his body betraying him in the most delicious way. His erection grew rapidly, the feel of your soft body beneath his fingertips and the addicting way you kissed made him give over to you so easily it was almost pathetic.

You pulled away just enough to speak, your voice a low, sultry whisper that made his heart race. “Good boy… let go. Let me show you what true devotion feels like.”

You felt his body respond in kind, a shudder running through him as your words curled around his mind like a serpent, squeezing out the last drops of resistance. His erection pressed against you, desperate and needy, as though his very soul had been waiting for this moment, for the permission to surrender completely.

Your lips brushed against his again, teasing, barely giving him what he craved. “You’ve been so good,” you murmured, your breath warm against his skin, sending a ripple of desire through his entire body. “So devout. Let me reward you properly.”

He moaned softly, a sound that reverberated through his chest, and you could feel the heat radiating from him now, his body a furnace of pent-up lust and unfulfilled desire. His hands, once hesitant, now gripped at your waist, pulling you closer, his hips twitching forward in desperate need for friction, for release. It was almost pathetic, the way he melted under your touch, so easy, so malleable.

You chuckled, low and wicked, your lips ghosting over his neck now, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. The scent of his arousal filled the air, mixing with the incense, and your hunger surged. His body, so tightly wound, begged for release—release only you could give.

Your hand slid down between your bodies, pressing against the hardness straining beneath his jeans. He gasped, his body jerking against yours, his breath coming out in ragged pants as you teased him, fingers dancing over his length with a delicate touch. “Feel that?” you whispered against his ear, your voice dark and laced with cruelty. “That’s what you’ve been denying yourself. All this time, fighting your desires… for what? For Him?”

He whimpered, his body trembling under your touch. His eyes fluttered shut, his lips parted, but no words came out—just the sound of his breath, shallow and ragged, as you continued to torment him. His hands tightened on your waist, fingers digging into your flesh as if he were afraid to let go, afraid you would leave him hanging on the edge of this delicious torment.

You leaned in closer, pressing your body fully against his now, your mouth hovering just inches from his ear. “You’ve served Him so well,” you whispered, your lips brushing against the sensitive skin of his neck, feeling the pulse beneath it quicken. “But now it’s time to serve yourself.”

His head fell back, a low moan escaping his lips as your fingers closed more firmly around his length, stroking him through the thick fabric of his jeans. You could feel him trembling, could hear the soft, pleading sounds that escaped his throat, and it sent a thrill through you. So needy. So easy.

You freed him, undoing the button and the zip and letting his thick length out of its cage. His cock was beautiful, long and girthy, with the precum glistening against the head, tantalising and teasing you.

“Look at you,” you purred, your fingers teasing him with slow, deliberate strokes, your lips grazing his throat. “Such a good little servant. So desperate to please.” His body jerked in response, his hips pressing up against your hand as you continued to stroke him. “Tell me, Brother… what would you do for me?”

He swallowed hard, his breath hitching as he tried to find his voice. “A-anything,” he gasped, his voice barely a whisper. “Anything you want… just… please…”

You smiled darkly, your eyes gleaming with satisfaction. His submission was perfect, total. He had fallen into your trap with such ease, so eager to give up everything, to be consumed by you.

Slowly, you pulled away, watching with dark delight as his eyes snapped open in shock, the sudden loss of your touch making him whimper in protest. His erection red and angry, his breath coming in short, desperate gasps as he stared at you with wide, pleading eyes.

“You want more, don’t you?” you asked, your voice dripping with sweet mockery. His nod was frantic, his body shaking with need, but you weren’t ready to give it to him yet. Not until he was completely yours.

“You have to ask for it,” you whispered, leaning in just enough for him to feel your breath on his lips. “Beg me.”

He hesitated, his pride warring with his desire for only a moment before he gave in completely, his eyes dropping to the floor as he whimpered, “Please… please, I need you. I need it so badly.”

Your smile widened, triumphant and wicked. Perfect.

You took a step back and stripped yourself of your veil and habit, with no underwear underneath, you were fully exposed to him and his hungry eyes.

His eyes widened as you stood before him, fully revealed, the dim light casting shadows over your body in a way that only accentuated your inhuman allure. His breath hitched, eyes hungrily drinking in the sight of you.

You tilted your head, your lips curling into a dark, seductive smile as you watched him. The devout Brother, the leader of the Ministry, Satan’s favourite son, was now nothing more than a quivering, desperate man, wholly in your thrall.

He swallowed hard, his gaze darting between your eyes and the rest of your body, his erection still painfully obvious even after the release you had granted him. It wasn’t enough. He was far from sated.

You stepped forward, your hand reaching out to gently brush the side of his face. He trembled beneath your touch, his skin warm, his pulse racing beneath your fingertips. “Don’t worry,” you whispered, your voice soft but laced with danger. “I’m going to give you exactly what you deserve. All you have to do… is worship me.”

His breath caught, his lips parting, and you saw the flicker of hesitation in his eyes—the last vestiges of guilt, of fear, before they were swept away by the force of his need. He nodded, barely able to form the words as his voice cracked. “Yes… I’ll worship you.”

A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you tilted his chin up, forcing him to look at you. “Good. On your knees.”

He dropped without hesitation, the weight of his desire pulling him down like a stone into the abyss. His hands reached out instinctively, trembling as they hovered near your thighs, but he didn’t dare touch you—yet. Not until you gave the command. His eyes were wide, almost pleading, as he stared up at you.

You stepped closer, letting your fingers trail through his hair, tugging gently as you forced his head back to meet your gaze. The sight of him, kneeling at your feet, was intoxicating—delicious in its submission. “You know what to do,” you purred, your hand tightening slightly in his hair. “Make me feel how much you need this.”

His breath trembled as he leaned in, pressing tentative kisses along the inside of your thigh, his lips soft and reverent as though he were worshipping a holy relic. But this was no act of piety—this was pure, carnal desperation. His hands finally settled on your hips, his fingers digging in just enough to ground himself as he moved higher, his lips tracing a burning path up your body.

A shiver of pleasure ran through you as his lips neared your core, his breath warm and ragged against your skin. You let out a soft sigh of approval, your fingers tightening in his hair as you guided him closer, demanding more.

“Good boy,” you murmured, your voice low and dangerous. “Don’t stop.”

With a whimper of submission, he obeyed, his mouth moving between your legs with an eagerness that bordered on frantic. The heat of his breath, the desperation in every flick of his tongue—it was almost too much, and yet not enough. You could feel the power building between you, every drop of his devotion feeding into your hunger, making your desire grow more intense, more ravenous.

You rolled your hips against his face, the sharp sting of pleasure making your body hum with delight as you let yourself fall into the moment, letting him give you exactly what you wanted. His moans were muffled against your flesh, and the vibrations sent shocks of pleasure through your body as you gripped his hair tighter, forcing him to keep going, to give you everything.

You moaned. “Lie on the floor.”

He pulled off you quickly, obeying immediately. He watched from the ground as you lowered yourself over him, hovering above his face before sitting on it entirely.

As you lowered yourself onto his face, your thighs framing him, you felt the desperate pull of his hands gripping your hips, guiding you down onto him like a man starved. His mouth latched onto you with fervor, and the way his tongue moved, eager and reckless, sent a bolt of pleasure straight through you.

His groans were muffled against your skin, each one sending delicious vibrations deep into your core. You leaned back, your hands braced against your thighs as you rode his face, grinding against his mouth, feeling the sharp edge of his teeth grazing against you with each desperate flick of his tongue.

He was so eager, so hungry. You couldn’t help but let out a moan, a low, satisfied sound that echoed off the chapel walls. The thrill of it all—this filthy act in such a sacred place, however inviting it was, the power you had over him—made the pleasure all the more intense. He wasn’t just a man beneath you anymore; he was yours, completely, utterly devoted, worshiping you as though you were the goddess he had never known he needed.

“You’ve done so well,” you purred, grinding harder against his face, your voice dripping with dark affection. “But I’m not finished with you yet.”

His body jolted, a soft, muffled whimper escaping him, but he didn’t stop. If anything, his pace quickened, his tongue delving deeper, licking and sucking with wild, unrestrained devotion. You could feel the tension building in your core, that sweet, unbearable pressure mounting as you rolled your hips, your pace becoming erratic as you chased your release.

With a gasp, your head fell back, eyes fluttering shut as your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him tighter against you. His muffled groans of desperation only spurred you on, pushing you closer and closer to the brink.

“Yes… just like that…” you moaned, your voice barely more than a breathless whisper. “Don’t stop. You’re mine now… all mine.”

And as the climax hit you, your body convulsing in a violent wave of ecstasy, you felt the power of it surge through you, your very essence pulling from his submission, his devotion, his soul. He was shaking beneath you, gasping for breath as you rode him through the peak of your pleasure, leaving nothing behind for him to hold on to.

Finally, with a satisfied sigh, you lifted yourself from his face, gazing down at him. His chest heaved, his eyes half-lidded, dazed and spent, his lips still glistening with your release.

You stood up slowly, your legs shaky with the lingering pleasure of your climax, but you weren’t done with him yet. Not by a long shot. The chapel floor was cold beneath your feet, but you didn’t feel it—your skin still buzzing with the heat of his devotion, with the power you had over him.

You gazed down at him, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he lay there, spent and trembling from his efforts. His lips were swollen, his face flushed, and his eyes half-lidded with lust. Yet, despite how exhausted he looked, his cock still stood painfully erect, a testament to just how much he wanted you—how much more he still had to give.

Your lips curled into a wicked smile as you placed one foot on either side of his hips, standing over him, your body fully exposed to his ravenous gaze. His eyes widened as he stared up at you, helpless and needy, his hands twitching at his sides as if he wanted to reach for you but didn’t dare.

“Look at you,” you purred, lowering yourself just enough to let him feel your heat hovering above his aching length. “So desperate for me. Do you even know how pathetic you look right now?”

He whimpered softly, his eyes pleading, and the sound sent a thrill through you. You reached down and gripped his cock, feeling it twitch under your touch as you guided him to your entrance, teasing him, letting the tip brush against your slick folds but not giving him the satisfaction of entering you just yet.

“I could leave you like this,” you mused, your voice a low, dangerous purr. “Make you beg for it until you’re nothing but a broken mess on the floor. Would you like that?”

His breath hitched, his body tensing beneath you as he struggled to find the words, but all that escaped him was a desperate, choked sound. You chuckled, relishing in his torment for just a moment longer before you finally lowered yourself onto him, taking him in inch by inch. His gasp was immediate, his body jerking as you sank down onto his length, enveloping him in your tight, wet heat.

You let out a low, satisfied moan as you settled fully onto him, the feeling of his cock buried deep inside you sending a wave of pleasure through your body. His hands flew to your hips, gripping you tightly as if to ground himself, as if he couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Fuck…” he gasped, his voice trembling as his hips instinctively bucked up into you, seeking more, needing more. But you were in control here, and you weren’t about to let him have anything unless you wanted it.

You placed your hands on his chest, pushing him back down against the cold stone floor as you began to move, slow and deliberate. His eyes rolled back as you rocked your hips, your pace agonizingly slow, making him feel every inch of you as you rode him.

“Is this what you wanted?” you asked, your voice dripping with mockery as you leaned forward, your breasts grazing his chest. “To be used like this? To be taken by something so much more powerful than you could ever hope to be?”

He nodded frantically, his fingers digging into your hips as his breath came out in ragged pants, but you didn’t give him time to answer. You increased your pace, rolling your hips in slow, torturous circles as you rode him, taking what you wanted, letting his cock fill you over and over again.

The sound of your skin slapping against his filled the chapel, the obscene rhythm echoing through the holy space as you fucked him on the very floor he had once knelt on in prayer. His moans grew louder, more desperate, as his body surrendered to you completely, his hips jerking up to meet your every movement.

You threw your head back, a deep moan escaping your lips as you felt the pleasure building inside you once more, the tight coil of desire winding tighter with every thrust. His cock was perfect, hitting just the right spot with every movement, and you rode him harder, faster, your nails digging into his chest as you chased your release.

“Look at you,” you growled, your voice rough with pleasure. “A pathetic, whimpering mess beneath me. Is this what you imagined when you swore yourself to Him?”

He whimpered in response, his body trembling beneath yours as his hands gripped your hips tighter, his breath coming out in sharp, ragged gasps. His cock twitched inside you, and you could feel him teetering on the edge, ready to fall apart for you completely.

But you weren’t done with him yet.

You slowed your movements just enough to drive him mad, keeping him on the brink, torturing him with the promise of release but not giving it to him. His moans turned to desperate pleas, his body thrashing beneath you as he begged for mercy.

“P-please,” he gasped, his voice raw with desperation. “Please… let me come…”

You leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “Only when I say so.”

You felt the desperation in his body, the way he writhed beneath you, his hips bucking as if trying to coax his release from you. The sound of his pleas echoed in the chapel, mingling with the sharp slaps of skin against skin, and it only fueled your hunger. You couldn’t resist teasing him a moment longer.

With a wicked grin, you decided to grant him the pleasure of your movements. You tightened your grip on his chest, fingers digging into his skin as you rolled your hips with renewed vigor. Each thrust was relentless, a passionate declaration of your dominance as you claimed him entirely.

“Such a good boy,” you murmured, your breath hitching as you increased your pace, riding him harder. The intensity of his desire washed over you like an intoxicating wave, your body moving in perfect rhythm with his desperate thrusts. His moans transformed into deep, guttural sounds, filled with a mix of pleasure and frustration.

The chapel’s cold floor beneath you faded into oblivion as the heat between you grew. Every thrust sent shocks of pleasure coursing through your body, the electric connection sparking with each movement. You reveled in the feeling of his length filling you, the way your bodies collided, and how his needy cries echoed within the sacred space.

“Let go,” you commanded, your voice low and sultry, urging him to surrender completely to the ecstasy you were providing. “Give in to your desires.”

He obeyed, his body arching up towards you, chasing that elusive release you had kept just out of reach. The warmth of his skin beneath your hands, the desperate rhythm of his thrusts, and the sight of his pleasure-stricken face drove you wild. You pressed your hips down harder, taking your pleasure as he lost himself in yours.

“Please…” he whimpered, his voice cracking as he struggled against the intoxicating wave of need threatening to consume him. “I can’t hold on much longer… please let me come…”

You loved the way his voice trembled with desperation, how he begged and pleaded like a sinner before his goddess. And yet, you weren’t quite finished with him. The feeling of control surged through you, powerful and thrilling, and you couldn’t resist the urge to draw this out a bit longer.

With a wicked smile, you leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear once more. “Not yet,” you whispered, the words laced with dark promise as you tightened your core around him, milking him for every drop of pleasure you could extract.

His back arched, a raw moan escaping him as you felt him tense beneath you. He was so close—so very close. But you pulled back just enough to keep him on that precipice, your body quivering with the effort of holding back your own release as well.

“Ride it out for me,” you commanded, the authority in your voice making him whimper. “You can do it. Just a little longer. Show me how devoted you really are.”

With that, you increased your pace once more, driving him harder against the floor as your body took everything it wanted. Each thrust pushed him further toward the edge, and you could feel the tension in his body building, ready to snap at any moment. His desperate pleas only intensified your need, the power you held over him sending a thrill down your spine.

His hands clutched at your waist, pulling you closer as if trying to merge your bodies into one. You loved that he wanted you so desperately, that he was willing to submit to your will without question. It made you feel powerful, alive, and it was exactly what you craved.

Finally, you leaned down, capturing his lips in a fierce kiss, your tongues dancing together as you drove your hips down harder, faster. The pleasure surged through you both, a wave that threatened to drown you in ecstasy, and you could feel his release building within him. The taste of his desperation lingered on your tongue, fueling your own need as you lost yourself in the moment.

“Now,” you gasped against his lips, your voice barely more than a breath. “Come for me.”

With your command, his body shattered beneath you. He let out a primal groan, his back arching as he finally released himself, spilling deep inside you with a cry of pure bliss. The warmth of him flooding you sent shockwaves through your entire body, and you rode him through the waves of ecstasy, your own climax crashing over you as you surrendered to the pleasure.

Together, you rode the high, the chapel echoing with the sounds of your union, a sacred act of pure, unfiltered desire. His essence had poured into you, filling you up and satiating your hunger. You breathed heavily, basking in the deliciousness of your meal.

Before you could catch your breath, he shifted beneath you, a glint of newfound determination sparking in his eyes. With surprising strength, he pushed you onto your back, the cold chapel floor pressing against your skin as he loomed over you, the raw need radiating from him almost palpable.

“Wait—” you began, but he silenced you with a heated kiss, his hands gripping your wrists as he pinned them to the floor beside your head. The fervor in his movements sent a thrill through you, igniting a spark of excitement deep within.

He buried himself inside you once more, the sensation of him filling you again pushing you over the edge of pleasure. You gasped against his lips as he began to thrust, his movements driven by an insatiable hunger that mirrored your own. His rhythm was wild and desperate, a primal instinct taking over as he chased the high of a second orgasm, your bodies intertwining as if they were destined to fit together like this forever.

“More…” he gasped, his voice strained as he pressed deeper, each thrust sending waves of pleasure crashing over you. The intensity of his desire only fueled yours, igniting an inferno of lust that threatened to consume you both. You could feel the heat radiating off him, and the sight of him lost in the throes of ecstasy was intoxicating.

“Please… let me feel you,” he murmured, his breath hot against your neck, the urgency in his voice sending shivers down your spine. You reveled in the way he sought to claim you again, your body responding eagerly as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, urging him to push even deeper.

The grucifix on his blazer swung wildly above you as his thrusts grew more frantic, more desperate as he chased that high, the aphrodisiac coursing through his veins giving him a stamina you hadn’t anticipated. Each thrust was a declaration of his need, his primal instincts taking control as he lost himself in the rhythm of your bodies moving together once more.

The pleasure mounted quickly, the tension in your core tightening as you felt the familiar heat beginning to build again. You moaned his name, the sound blending with the echoes of the chapel, and it only seemed to drive him further, his movements becoming more erratic, fueled by your sounds of pleasure.

“Just like that… don’t stop…” you urged, your voice breathy as you felt yourself spiraling toward that edge once more. He complied eagerly, losing himself in the moment as he pushed harder, faster, his hands gripping your thighs as he buried himself deeper inside you.

“Sathanas, you feel so good,” he groaned, his voice hoarse and ragged. “I can’t get enough…”

You could feel the heat building inside you, an insatiable hunger igniting with each thrust as you surrendered to the rhythm of his body. The world around you faded, the only thing that mattered was the pleasure coursing through you, the connection that bound you both in this moment of bliss.

“Come for me,” you urged, your voice a sultry whisper, and it sent him over the edge. With a final, desperate thrust, he cried out, his release flooding you once more as you felt him pulsing inside you. The sensation tipped you over the edge, your own climax crashing through you as you reveled in the delicious aftershocks of both your pleasures intertwining.

You writhed beneath him, lost in the waves of ecstasy that surged through your bodies, feeling completely and utterly consumed by the moment. As his release filled you once more, a deep, primal hunger awakened within you—a hunger that went beyond mere physical satisfaction. You could feel the warm, intoxicating rush of his essence flooding through you, sending delicious waves of pleasure radiating outwards, wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

With each pulse, you savored the taste of him, letting it wash over you, feeding on his orgasm again as if it were the sweetest nectar. The sensation was euphoric, a heady mix of power and pleasure that sent shivers down your spine. You could almost feel the tendrils of his release seeping into your very being, nourishing your essence and filling you with warmth and satisfaction.

As the last shudders of ecstasy faded, the warmth of his body collapsed against you, a heavy weight that anchored you to the cold chapel floor. His breathing was ragged, softening into a gentle rhythm as he drifted into unconsciousness, spent from the pleasure you had given him. You could feel the heat radiating off him, a testament to the fervor of your union, and for a brief moment, you relished the sweetness of your victory, the satiation of your hunger.

But before you could fully bask in the aftermath, a deep chill enveloped the chapel, cutting through the remnants of warmth like a cold knife. Shadows danced along the stone walls, twisting and writhing as if alive, casting eerie shapes that seemed to flicker and vanish before your eyes. A palpable tension filled the air, thickening it with an electric anticipation that made your skin prickle.

Then, with a grace that seemed otherworldly, He emerged from the darkness—Satan, the God of Darkness, cloaked in an aura of authority and danger. His presence was magnetic, drawing your gaze with an irresistible pull, as if He were the very embodiment of temptation itself. His form was draped in a flowing garment of black velvet that shimmered like the night sky, accentuating his lithe yet powerful frame.

His skin glistened, the deep crimson hue catching the flickering candlelight, creating an almost surreal contrast against the shadows that danced around him. Long, elegantly curved horns sprouted from His goat-like head, twisting upwards like the branches of a dark, twisted tree, glinting with an otherworldly sheen that hinted at both beauty and menace.

Satan’s eyes were a swirling abyss, deep pools of molten gold that seemed to pierce through the veil of your very soul. In them, you could see the weight of centuries, the seductive allure of a power that promised both ecstasy and destruction. They glinted with an unfathomable knowledge, as if He held the secrets of the universe in his gaze, and for a moment, you felt utterly naked before Him—exposed, yet exhilarated.

He moved closer, hooved feet clopping against the cold floor, each step deliberate and graceful, the air around Him charged with an intoxicating energy. You could feel the temperature drop even further, your breath visible in the air, mingling with the lingering scent of desire and smoke that clung to the chapel. The shadows shifted, stretching and elongating, as if bending to his will, swirling around Him in a dark dance that was both mesmerizing and foreboding.

Satan’s lips curled into a knowing smile, an expression that held a multitude of meanings—pleasure, intrigue, perhaps even a hint of disapproval. “My dear succubus,” He spoke, His voice smooth and rich, a seductive whisper that wrapped around you like silk. “It seems you have indulged in your own appetites.”

His gaze flicked down to the unconscious figure beneath you, and his smile widened, revealing sharp, gleaming teeth that glinted like daggers. “Such a delightful little feast you’ve had.” There was a playful lilt to His tone, yet it held an undertone of warning, a reminder of the power that coursed through his being.

You met his gaze, feeling both enthralled and wary, a thrilling mix of fear and fascination coursing through you. “He was… delectable,” you replied, your voice steady despite the tempest of emotions swirling within you. “A gift of desire, just as You promised.”

Satan chuckled, a low, dark sound that reverberated through the chapel like distant thunder. “And yet, you seem to have drained him to the brink of exhaustion. Is it not wise to leave your prey alive for the next indulgence?”

As He spoke, you felt a shiver run down your spine, the implications of His words sending a thrill of excitement through you. You had given in to your desires, but there was a deeper hunger within you now, one that craved the power he embodied.

“Would you like to be my next indulgence, my Dark Lord?” you asked, playfully teasing your God.

Satan’s smile deepened, His sharp teeth glinting in the dim candlelight, an embodiment of wickedness and allure. The shadows danced around Him, reflecting the darkness that thrummed in the chapel, echoing the intoxicating energy between you. He stepped closer, the air thickening with His presence, each movement imbued with an undeniable charisma that both captivated and terrified.

“Ah, My sweet succubus,” He purred, His voice a silky caress that wrapped around you like a lover’s embrace. “You play with fire, and yet I find your audacity utterly delectable.” His gaze roamed over you, an appraising look that lingered on your exposed skin, the remnants of your previous indulgence evident in the lingering heat that radiated from your body.

He paused, leaning closer, the heat of His breath brushing against your face. “But tell Me, what makes you think you could handle the full weight of My indulgence?” His eyes glinted with a mixture of mischief and challenge, the promise of darkness dancing within their depths. “Many have tried, but few can withstand the depths of My desires.”

The thrill of His words sent a shiver of anticipation through you, igniting a hunger that pulsed beneath your skin. You met His gaze boldly, feeling a rush of confidence surge within you. “I am not afraid of the depths, my Lord. It is the heights of ecstasy that draw me to You.”

Satan chuckled again, a sound rich with amusement, echoing through the chapel like a dark melody. “Such spirit,” He replied, His tone dipping into something more serious, a glimmer of intrigue lighting His eyes. “You intrigue Me, little succubus. Your hunger matches My own, and that is a rare find.”

Satan’s smile widened, a predatory gleam dancing in His eyes as He stepped closer again, the shadows swirling around Him like a living cloak. He extended His hand towards you. “Come home, child,” He said, waiting patiently for you.

With a final glance at the still-unconscious figure on the floor, you reached for His hand, feeling the warmth of His touch blend with the darkness that surrounded you. As your fingers intertwined, the chapel shifted, the air crackling with energy as you were drawn into the depths of His domain, where pleasure and power coalesced in a tantalizing embrace.

He had brought you back to Hell, where you belonged.

Prev./Next

[matildaanymore]

𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐏𝐎𝐏 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 : Liam Gallagher x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 : Where a girl follows her favourite band around on tour as a "groupie" but soon gets pushed away by their new manager (Inspired by the movie; Almost Famous)

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : cigarettes and alcohol, swearing.

We were all sat on the tour bus smoking, drinking and yapping away. However, Noel and Liam decided to get into another fight while i just sat observing what was going down. Earlier in the day it was mentioned to them that they would be getting a new tour manager half way through tour and to which one agreed and the other didn’t. The rest of the band decided that they didn’t want to get involved, they just let the 2 brothers get to it.

“Well Liam I think this would be a great opportunity for us to have a change don’t you think?” “No! Noel it could mess everything up for us we don’t even know this man he appeared out of no where” “Well it’s not like we get a say in it at all” "That's the point! You've just proven my point!"

I was sat there listening in on what they were shouting about while my finger did laps around the beer bottle top quickly humming a random tune to myself. When all of a sudden it got snatched away from me. “Let’s go Y/N”. I looked up at the stubborn younger brother who walked towards the back of the van in a strop, sighing I decided to follow him since I had no other choice.

“This is all fucked, all of it” I just nodded listening to what he had to say so he could get it all out of his system. “What’s your thoughts on it?”. My head perked up at the questions curious as to why Liam asked me. “I don’t know…” He looked defeated knowing his answer wouldn’t change whatever happened. I soon got engulfed into a hug, I could tell he needed it. He needed someone to confide with. “Is that all you needed me for? For me to say ‘I don’t know’”. The boy smirked waving the beer bottle in front of my face teasingly, I tried to grab it but each time he moved it further and further away to the point where I couldn’t reach it anymore.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⭑‧₊˚ ⋅ જ⁀➴๋࣭ ⭑๋࣭ ⭑

I was stood at the side of the stage. Oasis was halfway through their set, when a man came and stood next to me. "You must be Y/N" I turn my head and see him holding his hand out, he was around 6 foot with brunette hair and glasses sitting a bit too far forward on his nose. "Uh Yes! That's me" I hesitantly reached forward with my hand and made contact with his. "Well it's very nice to see you" "Yeah you too" I gave him a dirty look just so he got the hint I didn't want to talk to him but he kept going. "So how long have you known Liam?" "A few months." I said slowly nodding pushing my lips together "And you're touring with them?" "Yes?" at this point i was more curious with what he wanted to talk about but Liam caught my eye. He was strutting around on stage looking towards us, he gave me a confused look but I just shrugged indicating I didn't know what was going on. "I'm going to head to the toilet" I said with a polite smile.

In reality I wanted to get away from the strange man, confused as to who he was. I grabbed my bag and starting walking towards the stage door pulling out my packet of cigarettes. I don't know how long I was stood out here but got snapped back into reality when I heard cheers emerge from inside the stadium. Before I could even open the door my body clashed with someone else's. "What are you doing out here" I recognised the voice, it was Noel. "Oh, I just needed some fresh air..." Noel lit his own cig and stared at my face to see if I was lying. I mean I wasn't lying. "Liam saw you talking to Mike..." "Who's Mike?" "The new tour manager" … Then it hit me, that's why he was asking me so many questions, and that's why I didn't recognise him. "Liam's not happy" he scoffed in annoyance "Well how was I supposed to know who he is" "I don't know" he just shrugged and took a drag of his cigarette. Noel and I barley talk, not because we didn't like each other, just because I knew what part I played being out here with them. "Bye." I opened the door and walked straight towards the green room. I don't know why Liam would be mad, all I did answer his questions. I pushed open the door hearing bickering coming from inside the room. "Ah there she is" I snapped out of my trance when I heard the man from before announced me walking in. I gave them all a sly smile until I saw Liam looking miserable on the sofa. I walked over to him, to ask him what was up but he didn't seem to talk but his body language told me everything, Noel was right he wasn't happy.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⭑‧₊˚ ⋅ જ⁀➴๋࣭ ⭑๋࣭ ⭑

We all got back into the tour bus one by one. I sat down next to Liam who still hasn't said a word. "Y/N, can we have a chat please" my head shot up at the sound of my name being called. It was Mike.

"Um Sure". Before I got up I looked over at Liam to see him now sad? Why would he be sad. He gave me a reassuring nod telling me to go while taking a swig from his bottle.

"So I need to talk to you about something" "Oh uh sure, what is it" "After tomorrows show you're leaving" "What?" "I said you're leaving" "But why?" "It's a bad look for you and a bad look for them" "For them!!! They're rock n roll stars for god sake. they're the biggest band in the world, everyone loves their look" "As their new manager I need you to go" I looked at him in disbelief, this was so out of the blue "Well they didn't want you anyways!" "LIAR!".

A/N : Im sorry if this is bad; I haven't written in ages and wanted to do something based off of my favourite movie!

[wordsaresimple-imnot]

That final line - Joe Liebgott x F!Reader

Summary: Things have changed between Joe and Reader after bearing witness to the Concentration camp. They moved from being best friends to something more emotionally intimate. Now that the war in Europe is over will they cross the last line and become physically intimate?

Warnings: 18+ content (smut, p in v) angst-ish (mentions of war & concentration camp), comforting each other, tooth rotting fluff at end, she/her pronouns (no use of y/n or 1st person POV, but told from Liebgott's perspective sorta).

A/N: I have the biggest respect for the real life heroes of WWII (and all other wars, past & current), this work & all other works is based on the actor(s) and character(s) portrayed in the Band of Brothers series.

A/N pt 2: I love how this turned out. Basically this is just my own self-indulgence wish that I could have held and taken care of Liebgott after that scene of him crying in the truck. As always, let me know what you think! I tried a different writing perspective and I like it, hopefully you do too. Comments, likes, and reblogs make me happy and feel validated!

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

Joe Liebgott would forever be a different man. Easy Company had just liberated Kaufering IV but that included locking the poor souls back up for the medics to be able to try and get them back from the brink of death. The whole thing had left Joe feeling broken and full of pure rage and despair he didn't know how to get rid of it. So he grabbed a bottle of wine and wondered till he found a tree isolated enough he wouldn't easily be found. He just needed space.

He'd been alone for hours, judging by how low the sun was hanging, bottle long since empty, and eyes sore and dry from tears when he heard a twig snap. Looking around the tree, his heart both swelled and shattered at the sight of the person walking towards him. She was his best friend, been that way since Toccoa and all through the war thus far. The only person that could calm him down when his hot-headedness got the better of him and always had his back in every combat situation. He never had to worry when she was around. She was also the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen and had long since accepted that his heart would always speed up a little when she was in eyesight. While his heart had the usual reaction at seeing her, he couldn't help but feel broken anew at the sadness on her face and emptiness in her eyes. He wasn't the only one tore up from their recent experience.

"I've been looking for you everywhere." She speaks barely above a whisper as she drops down next to him, already leaning against his arm.

"I'm sorry, I just had to get away for a while. I should have found you and brought you with me." He leans over to drop a kiss on the top of her head.

There's a beat of silence and then she speaks again, still in a low whisper, "Do you think they'll make it?"

The words are a dagger to his already bruised and bleeding heart. He gives a small sniff, trying to hold back the fresh tears.

"I don't know." He feels her turn her body towards him and knows she's taking in his appearance detail by detail.

"You can let it out, Joe. I know this is tearing you up. Please don't hold it in and let it destroy you." One hand grasps his while the other gently takes his chin and turns his head so their eyes meet. He tries to push the emotions back down and come up with something to say, but he loses all resolve when her hand moves to cup his cheek and wipe away a stray tear that falls out.

Joe is suddenly wrapping his arms around her, pressing his face in the crook of her neck and letting it all out. He feels her shift them so he's laying mostly on her, her back against the tree and arms tightly wrapped around him. One hand is gripping the back of his jacket tightly, holding him to her, the other is gently stroking his head, and when he feels the side of his face getting wet he knows she's crying too.

They stay like that for hours, until the sun is nearly gone and all tears have been let out. Even after the tears, they don't move, finding too much comfort in holding each other. The only thing that gets them finally moving is their stomachs growling. Joe gets up first, holding his hand out to help her up and starts walking them back to find some food. He looks down briefly when he feels her intertwine their fingers and give his hand a squeeze. The first smile he's had in days makes it way across his face and he squeezes her hand back.

As the days dragged on ahead, their bond grew even tighter. There was a new level of safety and vulnerability that blossomed. Hands would brush more often, hugs turned tighter and longer, if they were able to they'd often be found napping together tangled limbs and all. It was as natural as breathing to seek the other out and before Joe knew it, he was hit with the realization that he was head-over-heels in love with his best friend.

The popping of yet another champagne bottle drags Joe from his mulling and takes in the sight around him with a smile. They are in the Eagles Nest, the war in Europe is over and everyone is finally able to relax and celebrate. He's sitting by Webster and Perco, watching the other's talk and laugh, already more than a little drunk. His smile widens when he catches her eye, sitting next to Malarkey and they salute each other from across the room.

"You ever gonna make a move, Lieb?" Perco's question lands like a bomb right in his stomach.

"What the hell are you talking about?" He looks at the man next to him like he's crazy, but inside he's frantic. Is it that obvious?

"Oh come on, Liebgott. The two of you have been attached at the hip the whole war, even back at training. We've all noticed the stolen looks between you. The wars over, just go for it." Webster gives him a shove, pointedly ignoring the glare Joe shoots at him.

"I gotta take a leak." Joe abruptly stands and leaves before either of them can continue their pestering. They're right, he knows they're right. Since accepting his feelings, the only thing that's been holding him back has been the on-going war. Sure there's still Japan to figure out but right now, their immediate part is over and he doesn't have to worry about dying and leaving her or worse losing her any second to a bullet or bomb.

Not actually needing the bathroom, he finds himself wondering the halls of the Eagles Nest and randomly picking a room to go into. It's spacious with a sitting area, a large comfortable bed sitting against the back wall, a door leading to an adjoining bathroom next to it and doors to the right leading to a balcony. He heads to the balcony, throwing the doors open and leans against the railing taking in the mountains and open valley. It's so quiet and peaceful, he doesn't know how to reconcile it with the horrors the owner and occupants have done to the people of this land.

"Why am I always having to search for you?" A soft, happy voice speaks behind him. Joe turns around and feels his breathe catch in his throat at how beautiful and easy going she looks, leaning around the doorframe to the balcony. When he didn't respond, she stands up a little straighter. "What? Is there something on my face?"

Joe shakes his head and moves to stand in-front of her, raising his hand to trail a finger down her cheek. "You're beautiful."

"How drunk are you?" Her voice is playful, but Joe knew his words were having an effect on her based on the blush she now had.

"Not even tipsy. But drunk or sober, you're still beautiful." His hand cups her cheek, tilts her head up a little to fully meet his eyes and he decides to cross that final line. "I love you. I love you fully and completely; body, mind, and soul. I need you, more than I need to breathe. If you don't feel the same, that's fine. I will lock my heart away to keep you in my life however you wish to be. But the war here is done and I'm out of reasons to not tell you how I feel. Tell me you don't feel the same and I'll respect that, but if you feel even close to what I feel please let me know."

Joe see's tears form in her eyes and for a heartbreaking second he's sure she's going to tell him 'no' and walk away. Then he feels her hands on his face and holds his breathe as she rises on her toes, stopping when her lips are barely brushing his.

"I love you, Joe. I'm yours; body, mind and soul." And then her lips are pressing against his and Joe thinks he's died and gone to heaven.

Their kiss is passionate and slow, taking full advantage that they don't have to rush and can take their time exploring. Joe starts nudging her backwards, back into the main room and towards the bed. A line of clothes marks their path as they help each other be rid of them, kissing freshly exposed shoulders and necks as they go. Soon enough they've managed to be rid of everything and tumble onto the bed in a heap.

Joe leans back just enough to take in the site of her underneath him. Face flushed, lips swollen and glossy from kissing, hair spread out like a halo, chest rising and falling hard as she tries to catch her breathe. He leans his head down pressing kisses to her neck, trailing down her collarbone, around the swell of her breast and ending at her nipple. He takes his time delivering languid licks and sucks, making her skin pucker and rise. Not wanting to leave the other one out of the fun, his hand cups, massages and pinches a little on the flesh there, his other hand hasn't stopped caressing any part of her skin he can reach.

If he has any doubts of how he's making her feel, the gasps and moans falling from her lips dispel them quickly. Soon enough her hands are in his hair and scratching down his back as she wraps her legs around his waist pulling him closer. Joe stops his minstrations on her breast with a groan when his erection is pressed right against her wet core and he can't help but roll his hips into her again. This time they both moan.

"Joe, please. I need you." Her voice is ragged and the lustful look in her eyes almost has him finishing right then. He shifts to the side a little, giving him room to run his hand down her side and cup her core. She's soaking and his brain short circuits a little.

His fingers make quick work of making sure she is coated properly, detouring to her clit to rub until she starts to whimper and pull at him. As he meets her eyes, he raises his fingers to his lips and sucks her taste off of them.

"Goddamn, baby. Next time I'm spending hours down there." He rushes out as he positions himself at her entrance. "But if I don't have you soon, I might die." He looks at her for confirmation that she's ready and when she nods, he starts pushing in slowly.

They groan together at the feel of him sliding into place like a puzzle piece coming home. Once he's bottomed out, he drops down to his elbows, putting more of himself on top of her and rests his forehead against hers. Her thighs tighten around him as she turns her head to kiss him.

"Move. Please." She bites his bottom lip at the same time she scratches his back again.

"Yes ma'am." He presses his lips firmly to her, swallowing the moan she lets out as he pulls out and quickly snaps back in. He finds a steady rhythm, angling his hips just right so he's brushing that sweet spot within her. Her back bows, pressing her chest further into his and exposes her neck to his lips. He doesn't waste any time placing a hard bite where it'll be hard to hide the mark already forming. This spurs something in her and soon her hands are in his hair, tugging his head to the side as she returns the favor.

Joe can tell she starts to get close to her release, as her walls start fluttering around him and her moans start becoming more frequent. He raises himself up, gripping the headboard with one hand and dropping his other hand down to rub her clit.

"I know you're close baby. Look at me as you let go." His voice is deep and commanding. Her eyes immediately lock onto his and his movements pick up speed. A few more hard thrusts and a pinch on her clit and she's moaning his name and clamping down around him. The feeling of her combined with his name falling from her lips like a prayer has him falling right behind her.

As they come down from their highs, they exchange slow kisses and 'I love you's'.

Bonus scene:

Not wanting to waste a beautiful day, the guys had decided to have an impromptu baseball game. Joe stood in his spot, waiting to bat next, sending a smile and wave to the stands where his girl was watching and cheering. They were getting ready for the next play when Winters came strolling across the field. They all crowded around him, fully expecting to hear their deployment orders for fighting Japan. Instead he was giving them the best news they'd heard since VE day. Japan had surrendered. The war, all of it, was finally over.

All the guys started cheering, exchanging hugs and pats on the backs. Joe see's her coming towards them at an easy jog, a curious look on her face. He gives her the biggest smile and runs right up to her, lifting her in his arms and spins her around.

"Japan surrendered. It's over. We're going home." Her smile matches his as she fully takes in his words and hugs him back. Just as quick as it started, Joe stops spinning her and sets her down on her feet, then he's down on one knee, holding her hands.

"Marry me. Come back home with me. Or wherever you wanna live. I don't care. Just marry me, please." Everything dulls around the edges as he holds his breathe, waiting for her response.

"Yes, Joe!" She smiles bright enough to blind the sun and then starts laughing when he jumps back up and starts spinning her around again. The only sound is the cheering of their friends and their hearts beating in sync.

[rogue-durin-16]

HEAD-TO-HEAD (part I/?)

Summary: Joe thought she was pretty. Had he just said that, things might have been different for them. Maybe they wouldn't have gone head-to-head at each other for three years like it was a contest.

Pairing: Joseph Liebgott x Reader

Genre: angst splattered with fluff/rivals to lovers

Tags:

Head-to-head: @derersketnoget

Band Of Brothers: @fernando-jpg @chubbypotatoepie @tvserie-s-world @clumsy-wonderland @lordndsaviorwinters

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @comfort-reads

Warnings: language

A/N: okay I'm like three parts into this and it's gonna have the same vibe as this other fanfic (I've been wanting to flesh it out for a while), so if you're not into multiparts and prefer a similar, shorter version, go check that one out. Also, let me know if you'd like to be tagged in this one. That said, enjoy <3

Head-to-head masterlist

Band of Brothers masterlist

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

SLAM!

"Jesus!" Malarkey jolted on his bed, the cards Toye, Skip and him had been tossing on the mattress springing for an instant.

Maybe I had shut the barracks' door a bit too harsh.

"Tryna take it off the hinges?" Toye's tease was accompanied by a quirk of his brow and an unamused stare.

"Sorry." I grumbled with a wry face and not much feeling, making my way to my bed. "You seen Roe? Nixon's looking for him."

"I think he's on patrol duty in about an hour— what was that about?" Malark sat up straighter, setting his cards aside.

Before I could dismiss him whilst going through my belongings, Skip jumped into the conversation, feigning concentration in the game. "This is probably about Liebgott." A mischievous grin lit up his face when I looked over my shoulder to glare at him.

"Why would it be about Liebgott?" I hissed, turning to grab the book I was looking for.

Skip raised his eyes from the cards to give me a knowing stare. "Is it not?"

"So what if it is?" The three men shared a half amused, half stale glance and turned to me, the card game forgotten.

"What'd he do now?" Toye's question carried the exhaustion of a man who had listened to the same complaints too many times in the span of a few months.

"He just— ugh!" I threw my hands at the air, throwing my bag back under my bed with too much strength.

"Did he even have time to annoy you this much?" Skip was particularly enjoying this, unlike our two friends.

"Weren't you organizing supplies?"

"Yeah, Don. I was." I retraced my steps, not reaching the door just yet and instead making a stop by the boys' side. "But he was there. For fuck's sake— he's always there." I muttered the last part through my teeth, that anger I had barely gotten rid of growing exponentially at the mere thought of him. "Do you have any idea of how insufferable he is?"

Malarkey and Toye shared unspoken words momentarily before the redhead looked back up at me. "You could say we have some."

"He's not that annoying." Skip's oblivious comment earned him a slap from Don. "What?"

"He's not that annoying to you."

"Here we go." Toye groaned, fully shifting his body to me, knowing this wasn't going to be a short conversation.

"You have no idea of how much of a pain in the ass he can be." I began, already wound up by the not so willing interaction I was forced to have with Liebgott moments ago. "And you know why you don't know?"

"Surprise me." Skip was entertaining me. We all noticed, but I was yet to turn down an opportunity to rant about my own personal torment.

"Because it's not big stuff, it's— it's the endless little things. Like right now, you know what he did?" I didn't even wait for Skip's mock-serious cue. "I'm there, trying to organize the goddamn supplies and he just waltzes in with a shit ass comment about how I'm 'a bit too precise'." I accompanied the last part with a mocking tone and air quotation marks. "Who says that?! It's like he always has to get his two cents in, and I know he does it to bother me— don't give me that look." I warned Don, hitting his shoulder with the book in my hand.

"I didn't say anything!" He complained, trying and failing to hide the amused grin on his face.

"You know you're giving him what he wants, right?" Skip pointed out, taking the cigarette tucked behind his ear to his lips.

"What?"

"C'mon it's Liebgott. He wants to get a rise out of you." He shrugged, lighting up the smoke and taking a drag out of it. "And you're letting him."

"You think she doesn't know that?" Toye scoffed, giving me a side glance which I reciprocated.

"Oh, shut up." I rolled my eyes, plopping down on the bunk besides them. "I'm not gonna... What? Shut up and take it?"

"Have you tried that yet?" Skip asked with a raised brow.

"I'm not gonna try that." I stated, baffled at his suggestion. "That's what he wants. He wants me to go speechless, I just know. It's so obvious, with that damn attitude and the sarcasm and the way he'll just get me going until I run out of things to say— Don, I swear to God."

"I. Didn't. Say. Anything." He followed each of his words with a pause.

"You're looking at me like I'm nuts!"

"He's looking at you like you're stupid." Toye deadpanned taking the cigarette Skip offered him. " 'Cause you're fuckin' stupid, Y/n."

"I'm not stupid, I'm fed up." I hissed back at my friend. "Everyday, Toye, everyday for what? five months?" I stood up again. "He and his stupid jabs that are almost funny— like he's expecting me to, I don't know, laugh at them?"

"So you find him funny?"

"Don't put those words in my mouth." I warned Skip. "I said almost."

"Right."

There was a beat of silence from which I decided to move on, going back to the main topic. "It's not only that. It's the way he has to be right about everything, too. Like- first of all, he's not right about anything. Ever. Second of all—"

"Oh, and you are?" Skip cut me off, a taunting tinge in his question.

"Yeah, when it comes to him, I am." There was an unhealthy pride in my words, and by the look on Skip's face, that's exactly what he wanted. "And even if I wasn't, do you think I'd give him the satisfaction of—"

"Okay, this is ridiculous." He cut me off again, motioning at me whilst looking at our friends. "You noticed, right?"

"Hmm, I don't know Skip. We only had this conversation about a million times." Malark retorted.

"You're not annoyed by whatever Liebgott's doing." Muck spoke as if he had reached some kind of revelation. "You're annoyed because you two have the same playbook."

"I don't have—"

"Yeah, you do." Toye took a drag out of his recently lit Lucky Strike without sparing me a single glance.

"I don't. He's cocky and loud and argumentative and competitive—"

"And you're not." Skip could barely hold back his laugh, his eyes examining the two men's faces.

"I'm... Efficient."

Toye snorted. "That's what we're calling it now?"

"I'm calling it how it is."

"Face it. You're cut from the same cloth and it annoys the fuck out of you." Skip reached for the cards, silently agreeing with Toye and Malarkey that it was best to start over, and began to shuffle them.

"The same cloth my ass. He's an infuriating motherfucker." Don shook his head with a soft chuckle, taking the cards his best friend handed him. "I can't just— I have enough to worry about as it is, and he's out here making me argue over shit I don't even know if it's worth arguing over, just because— I don't know. It's not like he gives me time to think it through anyway."

"So you're also mad because he's quick. Or" Skip raised his pointer finger as if to sush me before I could argue back. "quick enough to keep up with you?"

It was the second time in the span of a couple of hours that I found myself at a loss of words— something I clearly wasn't a fan of.

"Okay, fuck this." I put a full stop on the conversation, muttering a mildly irritated goodbye to the boys before taking the barracks door and heading to the now empty mess hall.

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

JOE'S P. O. V.

"I seriously don't get why you like her." I heard a dramatic sigh coming from the adjacent toilet.

"We're gonna do this again?"

What a way to finish such a magnificent day— latrine duty with Luz and Penkala.

"We're gonna do this until I get why you think she's worth anyone's time." I retorted at the Portuguese jokester, moving on to another toilet.

"Because she's as tough as they come." George sounded a bit too tired of listening to me for someone whose personality was based on going on and on about the same topic for hours. "Back me up, Penk."

"She's real smart." Penkala jumped in with a shrug, mopping the far corner of the bathroom. "And quick with words."

"Yeah, she keeps up with pretty much everything."

"Oh, c'mon." I scoffed, sitting back on my heels. "She's just a glorified pretty face."

"You know it's the third time you called her pretty in" Luz checked his watch with an arched brow. "an hour?" I rolled my eyes at his tease, poorly masked as an observation.

"That's all she is. She shouldn't even be here." I cursed under my breath when Penkala accidentally hit me with the mop. "The fuck was that for?"

"You're being a dick." He deadpanned absentmindedly.

"And it's getting old." Luz said, passing behind me to clean a different toilet. "Just admit you're ticked 'cause you found someone who can give you a run for your money." Penkala's quiet laugh put a shit eating grin on George's face. "and it's a girl."

"Yeah, sure, a run for my money. She's all talk, always with her little comebacks. Miss always-gotta-have-the-last-word." My voice was a bitter mock. "Stubborn little bitch."

"Hey!" Luz's palm smacked the back of my neck, making my head snap in his direction with a warning glare. "You're not gonna land her with that shit, y'know?"

"What makes you think I wanna land her?"

Penkala left the mop aside and crouched to help Luz pick up the cloths we had used to clean everything. "You haven't shut up about her since we came in."

"Yeah," Luz breathed out an exhausted groan when both him and Penkala raised to their feet. "you're starting to sound a little obsessed. If it's always like this," George lend me a hand to pull me up, which I gladly took. "I feel sorry for Tab."

"You're so damn funny." I clapped back, sarcasm dripping from my tongue as George pulled me up. "Should start a comedy show."

"So I've been told." We hadn't even left the latrine and Luz was already pulling out his pack of cigarettes. "C'mon Penky," he called for our friend, placing a cigarette on his lips before offering me one from the pack. "we're waitin' on you."

He did the same with Penkala once he joined us to leave for the barracks. I was attempting to light the smoke Luz had given us with my worn out lighter when she walked out of the mess hall.

Luz cursed under his breath, doing a half turn when he noticed Y/n strolling past us like we weren't there.

"A bit late to be wandering around, don't you think?" I called out with the cigarette still in my mouth, loud enough for her to catch it clear as day.

"A bit late to be fucking annoying, don't you think?" Her spat matched my volume, barely throwing a glance over her shoulder without slowing down as she passed by.

"Jesus Christ... Good night, Y/n!" The wind brought us a faint 'Night, Luz!' before we lost her in the camp's pitch black night.

"She's unbelievable." I muttered under my breath, tilting my head down for Penkala to light my cigarette with his own lighter.

Luz shook his head with disappointment. "You're unbelievable."

Yeah, right. Me.

[luminouslywriting]

Falling asleep on the Bob guys

Nonny, this is such a darling request! Sorry it's taken me so long to get to it :) I hope you really enjoy and are having a great day! Reminder that my requests are open and I love the spam!

Cut for length, paragraph format below:

Dick Winters:

Dick Winters is the type of man to be caught off guard in the softest of ways. He's not expecting you to fall asleep on him and he's still trying to talk over plans when he realizes that you're totally and completely out. It's at this point that he gets this really soft expression on his face and just decides to treasure the moment since you never know what will happen. He stays awake and keeps a wary eye out for any sort of danger that might befall the two of you. And he might murmur a few sweet nothings to you while you're asleep since there's no harm and foul for that.

Lewis Nixon:

Honestly, he's rambling and rambling and is waiting for you to reply to anything that he's said and mid-ramble, he looks down to find you asleep. Kinda makes this amused expression on his face and then presses a short and sweet kiss to your forehead. He's perfectly content as a kitten, curling up and falling asleep next to you. Especially if you're the one who fell asleep first—he's not about to move you or wake you up haha.

Ronald Speirs:

Realizes you're falling asleep very quickly and just goes kinda quiet. He doesn't have the heart to move you or wake you up so he can move, so he just sits there with your head on his shoulder and finally has a minute to just be calm and relax in peace. It's honestly a cathartic experience for him and he gets to reflect on your relationship, which endears the situation even more to him.

Buck Compton:

Gets this really goofy smile on his face at the fact that you're asleep on his shoulder. He absolutely adores seeing you this peaceful and will press a kiss to the crown of your head and snuggle in real close to you. He's the type to probably fall asleep with you, even more cuddled up and practically spooning at that point.

Carwood Lipton:

A softie who softly tells you a story until you are solidly asleep on his shoulder. And then he's slightly blushy and shy about the entire thing, but he's not about to move—he's no idiot. So he just wraps an arm around you and murmurs a soft goodnight. He'll treasure this memory for the rest of his life and wants to wake up next to you every single day henceforth.

Joe Liebgott:

Literally the sassiest mf—the minute that you fall asleep, he's out here glaring at anyone who walks by a little bit too loudly or is talking too much. He'll shush and tell someone to get the hell away from the situation bc no one is about to interrupt your beauty sleep. Not on his watch. He's also slightly smug and definitely thinking about sex in the future and how your married life would be.

Donald Malarkey:

10/10 a great person to fall asleep on. He's a solid choice, if only for the fact that he's ultra respectful and kind about things. He'll sit there patiently and untangle your hair while you're asleep and just relax. It's honestly just as calming getting to be around you while you're asleep and it becomes a tradition between the two of you.

Eugene Roe:

You cannot convince me that he isn't the best choice here. He gets super soft and almost emotional about the fact that you trust him enough to fall asleep near him and on him. He'll murmur lullabies in a half-whisper in French and stroke your hair and rub your back soothingly until you're totally asleep. He absolutely loves you and that'll be the last thing you hear before you're totally out for the count.

Bill Guarnere:

Doesn't realize you've fallen asleep until he turns to hear your reply or comments from a story he's been telling and then realizes that you're totally out. He gets this kinda goofy grin and just snuggles up real close to you. He's very honored that you feel safe enough to fall asleep in his presence—and he's not about to lose that trust for literally anything. You mean the world to him.

Joe Toye:

Slightly panicked?! Which doesn't really make sense, but you're literally asleep and he's just not about to let anyone interrupt that. He'll glare and make menacing motions to anyone who's too loud and he just wants to cuddle up next to you without anyone giving him shit. Not that anyone would—but you know, he's got some worries. Either way, he's real gentle about the entire thing.

George Luz:

Probably happens in a foxhole amidst some jokes and laughs to keep spirits up. And when you don't respond, he gets a little worried and then glances over to find out that you're just asleep on his shoulder. Gets this shit-eating grin on his face and he's definitely gonna tease you about it later (but not in front of anyone else). He's secretly very pleased that you fell asleep on him since he's got a big crush on you anyway haha.

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

Disguise

Ronald Speirs X Soldier! Reader

Summary: Y/n is hiding as a men in order to fight, but Speirs finds out...

Warning: Misgender/ use of Y/n/ inaccuracies of the show (it's been a while since I've watched it)/ swearing/

Word count: 1k

A/n: Band of Brothers fics! Yeah!!! Like I said, it's been a while since I've watched BoB, and I'm in my finals so it might not be 100% accurate.

Cold, she was cold. Y/n was hiding in her foxhole, freezing her tits off. But she couldn’t say it out loud, since she was under disguise. She wanted to do her part, not as a nurse or anything, she wanted to fight. So, she cut her hair, taped her boobs and talked in a low voice. But now, in Bastogne, she was afraid that she would be discovered. The only person that knew was Eugene Roe, because she got hurt on her rib and he saw the bandages holding her tits. He promised that he wouldn’t say anything, for now, he didn’t reveal her secrets.

It's been a while since she could get her hands on scissors to cut her hair, the only pair that she could find were immediately seized by Eugene, he needed it. Her hair was long enough for her to braid, so that’s what she did at night, her hair was in a crowned braid, it was easy to hide under her helmet. Some boys were questioning her lack of beard, her answer was that she couldn’t grow facial hair. In the beginning, it was easy to hide herself, but when Ronald Spiers came, it was hard. He was one of the best soldiers she’d ever seen, he saved them from Lieutenant Dike and the mess he put Easy into. That night, Spiers talked to Y/n and she began to have a crush on him. ‘’What’s on y’a mind?’’ Eugene asked her. They shared the same foxhole; it was his way to protect her in case guys discovered that she was a woman and they wanted to touch her in an inappropriate way. ‘’Nothing, I’m just fucking cold’’ she replied. ‘’Renee gave me chocolate, want some?’’ he offered her a piece of candy, she took it, thanked him and ate the piece.

The sun was rising, the smell of soup filled her nostrils. ‘’Reed, want some?’’ Bill Guarnere asked, handing a cup to her. ‘’Yeah, thanks’’ she replied in her men voice, she got up from her foxhole and took the cup. ‘’Boys’’ Captain Winters greeted the men. ‘’Captain’’ they all said, saluting him. ‘’Got any words on Dike?’’ he asked. ‘’Nope, he ran away like a little girl!’’ Lipton joked, making the men laugh. Y/n laughed with a deep voice. Speirs came walking towards the men, Y/n took a cup and filled it with soup. ‘’Lieutenant, soup?’’ she offered, he took the cup and began eating. Nixon called Winters, the two men began talking, Winters smiled. That’s how Y/n understood that they were leaving the cold hell. ‘’Guys! Good news, we’re leaving Bastogne! Pack your things we’re leaving at 1000’’ he ordered. Men started to cheer around, Y/n smiled and pat Gene’s back.

The Sisters were signing, Y/n was in another room. When Easy arrived in that church, one Sister took the ‘men’ aside and instantly knew her secret. So, Y/n was put in another room so she could take the bandage off, to free a breast a little. They also allowed her to take a shower. ‘’Sister, you won’t tell anyone about me, are you?’’ she questioned. The older woman shook her head. ‘’You, my dear, are a soldier. Not a man, not a woman, a soldier, you fight for us, and I’m grateful for that’’ she took Y/n’s hands and she explained. ‘’Thank you’’ Y/n whispered. She could hear the singing, but she just wanted to rest. Y/n laid on the small bed and waited for sleep to get her, but it never did. Instead, someone barged in the small room, unaware of the woman. Y/n didn’t try to cover herself, since she thought it was Sister Margaret, but it wasn’t. ‘’Private Reed?’’ Ronald Speirs asked, confused by the situation. He opened the door to reveal a woman laid in a bed, that woman looked just like Private Reed. ‘’Shit, fuck’’ he heard the woman mumble as she tried to cover up. ‘’Uh, yes, Lieutenant Spiers?’’ she stuttered. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. ‘’You’re a, uh, girl?’’ he asked confused. Y/n took a deep breath and scoffed at the word girl. ‘’Woman, yes, I am’’ she replied, a little offended.

He closed the door behind him, to avoid anyone else finding out about her. ‘’How?’’ he asked, sitting in the small stairs in front of the door. ‘’How what?’’ He pointed her body. ‘’Put bandages on my breasts, cut my hair, braided them when they were too long, and I used my middle and last name to enter. Blake Reed’’ she explained. ‘’What’s your real name?’’ he asked. ‘’Y/n, sir’’ she said, afraid that he was going to rat her out. ‘’Nice to really meet you, Y/n’’ he said, smiling. She smiled nervously, what was going on. She was risking a lot, she could die! ‘’Are you going to tell everyone?’’ she asked, her voice cracking at the same time. He shook his head. ‘’What would be the benefit of that? We don’t have enough soldiers, and from what I’ve heard, you’re a goddamn good soldier’’ he simply said. Y/n bit the inside of her cheek at the semi compliment. ‘’Uh, thank you, Lieutenant’’ she stuttered. He checked her out, she had an amazing body, her uniform was definitely hiding stuff. ‘’Can I offer you a smoke?’’ he proposed. She smirked, was he going to kill her? ‘’Thank you, but, uh, I don’t smoke’’ she politely declined. ‘’You should get ready; we’re getting sent to another place’’ he said. She nodded as an agreement as he left the room.

When she gets into the bigger room, she sees Speirs talking with Winters. Her mind starts to spin, what the hell is he talking about? ‘’Blake? Where have you been?’’ Luz asks. ‘’I’ve been walking around town’’ she lied with her man voice. ‘’Boys, sit down!’’ Winters ordered, Y/n went to sit beside Lipton, with a lump in her throat. She was nervously playing with her fingers. ‘’We’re going to another town. Dike is nowhere to be seen, so Lieutenant Spiers is now your captain’’ Winters announces. Y/n takes a deep breath as she rises from the bench, just like the others, to salute their new Captain. As he was being saluted, Spiers looked at Y/n and smiled, she was a brave and beautiful woman, he had a lot of respect for her, and a little bit of a crush…

[bloodstainedsaint]

noises in the bedroom with dick winters

(gif is made by @danny-boy27 🫶)

word count: 300+

warnings: reader has female genitalia, p-in-v sex, praise and other wholesome stuff

notes: inspired by this post, made for @yezzyyae

contrary to popular opinion, dick would NOT say “great googily moogily” during sex (shocking i know)

he still keeps true to his virtues and doesn't cuss any further than “hell” and “damn”

i feel like he would use his mouth on you to bite down any curses building in his throat

(imagining him in missionary cause he's a simple guy; he loves missionary and he makes you love it too iykwim) kisses on your body, throat, lips, groaning and leaving marks where he goes

speaking of groans, THERE’S A LOT OF THEM

they're quiet and kind of subdued (probably subconsciously since he couldn't really be loud during wartime quickies), but they’re there and throaty and so hot. especially when he moans your name, good lord you feel like you’re the only girl in the world

plus he sounds like a goddamn angel’s harp, and it's only for you to hear

he’s moaning into your ear as he pushes in, the crook of your neck as you clench around him, your mouth as your walls spasm when you come. you swallow his groans every time he puts his lips on yours, holding each other's faces and pulling the other deeper into the kiss

aside from that, he would praise you SO MUCH. he would call you beautiful and perfect and tell you how good of a job you were doing. he’s blushing when he says how good you feel around him—it sounds so dirty and crass to him, but it's true and the words are just tumbling out of his mouth

panting and in a slightly husky voice, he reminds you how much he loves you as he climaxes

y’all definitely laugh together when you come down from your highs, showing that he doesn't need to curse to express how much he's enjoying himself when he's inside of you

-

taglist: @mads-weasley, @ronsparky, @dcyllom, @malarkgirlypop

[blurredcolour]

In The Bleak Mid-Winter

[One-shot]

Ronald Speirs x Nurse!Female Reader

No good deed goes unpunished, but your reassignment brings with it an unexpected reward.

Warnings: Language, Weapons, Canon Typical Violence, Smoking, Treatment of Wounds, Medical Procedures, Hospital Settings, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes [unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex - m/f receiving, fingering, cum eating] - 18+ ONLY

Author’s Note: This was written entirely on my phone as my laptop is in for emergency repairs - I hated the experience, and apologize if there are any formatting issues or a surplus of typos. Also, I made some distinct narrative choices in writing this but I won’t burden you with them up front. They’re in the post-script if you’re interested! This is a work of fiction based off the actors’ portrayal in the HBO series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life persons mentioned within.

Word Count: 6171

————————————-

December 29, 1944 - Bastogne

“Fifty surgeries in two days with only three deaths. It is nothing short of a miracle. I’m halfway through a report recommending you all for a medal....and then I come to find out you landed in the middle of an encircled town on an unpiloted glider, through all manner of artillery fire, with a goddamn woman?! A woman!”

Your bleary eyes focused on the lit end of the cigarette pinched between the index and middle finger of your right hand, the icy caress of the north wind howling between the tent and the garage outside the Bastogne barracks one of the only things keeping you awake. Weary from nearly forty-eight hours of surgery, it would have been difficult to stay awake under normal circumstances, but the mortification you felt as General McAuliffe screamed at Major Dorward behind thin walls of canvas was certainly helping keep you on your aching feet in the ankle deep snow.

Bundled tightly in your great coat, collar turned up against the wind, face buried into the olive drab scarf around your neck, helmet protecting your head, the only bit of exposed skin was that hand you were straining to focus on. The other was deep inside your pocket, balled into a fist. You were vaguely aware of various people darting through the barracks yard behind you, making their way to and fro, loading vehicles, delivering men to the now-central clearing station since the bombing of the cathedral the day before your arrival. Covered as you were, you were barely indistinguishable from an ordinary soldier, yet the General had managed to find out your secret nonetheless.

“I have every faith that she can handle herself out here sir, there was no more qualified surgical assistant to accompany us.”

“But she is not a surgical assistant, Major, is she?! She’s just a nurse! A nurse whose life you endangered by sneaking her aboard that glider! I ought to have you court martialed!!!”

The General did have a point, hidden though it was within the avalanche of vitriol he was sending the Major’s way. You were in fact no more than a surgical nurse - assistants were enlisted men. But during your third or fourth surgery with the Major, right after D-Day, a brand new surgical assistant had been assigned to the operating room and not five minutes in had fainted to the floor.

With the patient in a life threatening position you had stepped forward to fill in the gap and ensure no impact to care or outcome. It had been the start of a very effective working relationship as the 12th Evacuation Hospital made its way across France behind the advancing American army.

Thus when Major Dorward had volunteered for this assignment, and asked if you would consider joining him, your only hesitation was born of the concern for the hell you two might catch. The hell he was in the very midst of catching right now.

You hissed at the sudden pain as the lit end of the cigarette met your flesh and quickly flicked it into the snow, not having taken one puff. When General Nuts himself had stormed into the tent, eyes blazing, the Major had sent you outside in the early dawn light with the lit cigarette and his rifle for protection. It had rather felt like you were your own firing squad, though the Major was most certainly the one under fire at the moment.

The creak of boots in the nearby snow, much closer than all those that had passed by before, made you jump slightly. You turned quickly to see an exhausted soldier, eyes bleached a pale grey in the now-brilliant morning sunshine. He looked cold, and exhausted, as all the men you’d run into here did. His face was handsome, though, lashes luxuriously long for a man carrying a Thompson submachine gun. He held out a pack of cigarettes to you, offering you a new one to replace that which you’d mistakenly allowed to burn out and you shook your head before extracting your face from its position nestled deep within your scarf.

“I don’t actually smoke, please don’t waste any of your cigarettes on me, soldier.” You smiled weakly, watching as his eyes widened a fraction before the General’s voice somehow rose even further in volume to respond to something the Major had said.

“I don’t give two shits if she can transplant heads, the risks involved were unacceptable, Major, and believe me you have not heard the last of this! Your surgical record over the last two days has been impressive, but this was utterly reckless!”

The soldier’s eyes flicked to the tent then back to you as everything surely came together in his mind and you looked down at the outline of yourcombat boots buried in the snow, wondering if it was too much to ask for the ground to open up beneath you and swallow you whole. You heard the tent flap flutter and tensed in anticipation of the General’s departure, but instead a gunshot rang out from across the clearing beyond the barracks, the snow scattering at your feet.

Strong arms yanked around your waist and pulled you back behind the shelter of the tent and the pair of you quickly lay flat in the snow, unmoving, barely breathing. The harassment from the enemy had been almost constant from the moment the glider had entered occupied air space and that, combined with any and all abilities you might possess being questioned by the General simply because of your gender, had you feeling rather enraged.

Pulling Major Dorward’s rifle from your shoulder, you crawled on your elbows to cautiously peer around the corner of the tent across the meadow and into the tree line beyond. Nothing moved. Years spent stalking deer at your father’s side had taught you patience, and how to aim the rifle in your hands. It seemed the former would not be required as a soldier came blithely walking out of the garage-turned-operating theatre completely unaware that there was a sniper.

The soldier at your side gestured at him violently - you could feel the movement of his body where his hip was still pressed against your leg, but it went unnoticed. Another shot rang out.

“Holy shit!” The man wailed as he darted back inside, a shower of brick dust audibly hitting the snow somewhere to your rear. The sniper was clearly lacking in talent, but you were focused on the movement in the coniferous tree to your two o’clock.

Exhaling slowly you squeezed the trigger and there was a hoarse shout followed by the sound of a body tumbling through cracking branches and ending in a sickening thud.

“Trying to kill my goddamn patients.” You muttered bitterly under your breath and carefully sat up, looking back to the soldier as he exhaled slowly.

He was eyeing you, expression intense and inscrutable, but your gaze was drawn to the gap at the collar of his ODs where you could see fresh blood oozing from a poorly bandaged wound at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, staining his wool shirt just below below his silver 1st Lieutenant’s insignia.

“You’re bleeding, Lieutenant.” You said quickly, pushing on his hip to encourage him to roll over so you might kneel at his side for a better look, pleased when he immediately complied.

You laid the rifle in the snow next to him and pulled the bandages away, frowning deeply to see lingering splinters of wood in the wound. As you carefully probed at them he hissed and you tensed, quickly apologizing.

“It’s nothing, ma’am, I’m fine.”

The tent flap opening and closing followed by heavy footfalls in the snow signalled the arrival of General McAuliffe on the scene.

“Everything alright, Lieutenant?” He asked quickly and the man below you nodded quickly.

“Just some shrapnel from a tree burst, sir.”

You looked up to the General slowly, watching his eyes land on the rifle at the Lieutenant’s side before glancing across the clearing.

“Good. Well done with the sniper, son.”

The Lieutenant shifted uncomfortably but you nodded quickly, helping him sit up. “An impressive shot, sir.” You added.

The General’s eyes fell on you, still full of that heated rage, but apparently he’d run out of words to say on the subject of your unwanted presence for he simply turned and made his way back towards the barracks.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, Lieutenant.” You turned back to him, the coppery tang of blood on the air focusing you like nothing else seemed to be able to.

Working your way to your feet, you picked up the abandoned rifle before leading him into the tent. Major Dorward looked up from some papers on his desk, opening his mouth but closing it quickly as you were followed by the Lieutenant.

“Tree burst shrapnel, sir.” You announced in your easy working shorthand.

“Damn Nazis have weaponized the forest. Have a seat, soldier.” He stood and offered his chair, walking over to the stash of supplies to fetch a field kit and bandages for you as you set the rifle on the cot in the corner, putting your helmet down beside it. “Ah my apologies, trooper.” He amended.

You turned back to see the distinct jump boots with bloused trousers now that the Lieutenant was seated and smiled. “I apologize as well, Lieutenant. I missed that outside.”

You worked his ODs and wool shirt open to began carefully cleaning his wound, leaving him in his undershirt in the chill of the tent.

“Doesn’t seem you miss much, Nurse.” He looked up to you as he spoke softly and you swallowed thickly as you noted his eyes were actually hazel, with flecks of gold around his pupils.

Mercifully Major Dorward broke out into rich laughter and shook his head. “That she doesn’t.” He commiserated affectionately from his newfound seat on the cot.

“Let me guess,” you murmured to the man seated before you as you gently worked out the last few splinters of wood that had escaped initial treatment, “you also told them this was nothing at the aid station because there were men there whom you considered hurt worse than you.” You glanced to his face as his lips twitched a little. “This could have become a real problem, Lieutenant, I’m glad you came over to offer me a cigarette.”

Turning back, you called the Major over to double check your work.

“Wound is clean and ready for bandaging.” He nodded after looking it over. “When you’re done I suggest you try and sleep. We’re driving out as soon as the truck is ready and the ride out will be about as relaxing as the flight in.”

“Understood, thank you Major.” You nodded as he stepped out of the tent to light a cigarette. You carefully lay some gauze over the crook of the Lieutenant’s shoulder before wrapping some bandages around his neck and under his armpit to hold it in place. “This should heal nicely in a week or so if you can do your best to keep it dry for me…” you trailed off as your fingers found the hole in his ODs.

Casting about the tent, your eyes landed on a tattered blanket in the corner and you began fashioning a patch, whip stitching it into place over the gash in the fabric. “That ought to do it.”

“Thank you, Nurse.” He murmured, looking up at you before he stood slowly, buttoning up his shirt and ODs with practiced efficiency.

“Take care of yourself, trooper.” You nodded, watching him step out, hoping against hope that he would be alright out there.

General McAuliffe proved to be a man of his word, which in retrospect was of no surprise to you whatsoever. The hellish ride out of Bastogne in the back of a truck on the only opened road, with the sounds of battle still raging on either side, took you to Orval where you received orders to report to the 60th Field Hospital there while the men from the 12th would return to the Evacuation Hospital you’d been stationed with since before June 1944. You had been informed your personal effects would arrive at a ‘later date.’

Nuts, indeed.

You worked in Orval for nearly a week, surrounded by unfamiliar faces, wearing the same clothing day-in, day-out, until the 60th was relieved and pulled back to Mourmelon-le-Grand. As promised, your belongings were waiting for you there, in the iron grip of a dour-faced Chief Nurse MacDonald who was only too happy to put a ‘reckless, insubordinate’ Nurse like you in her place at the 123rd Station Hospital.

What followed was a grueling month of scrubbing and refitting the near derelict buildings abandoned by the Airborne when they were abruptly called to the Ardennes. By the time the place was worthy of being called a hospital, you had managed to become at least friendly with your new colleagues, though they remained suspicious after your filthy and unceremonious arrival.

By mid-February, a tent city began to spring up around the base, heralding the impending arrival of troops from the front. And with them came all manner of cold weather maladies - pneumonia, trench foot, frostbite. Working on the general ward now, you could only eye the surgical nurses with envy, knowing your skills were going to waste emptying bedpans and changing bandages and that you had no one to blame but yourself.

Stubborn in all things, however, you worked without complaint, often being rewarded with more work or the worst assignments because your superiors knew you would complete any task with efficient silence. It was precisely this combination that saw you assigned to the night shift, a small mercy in that the vengeful Chief Nurse would never deign to work such hours, allowing you to develop a new working relationship with Captain Munro, MD.

“Nurse might I borrow you a moment?” He interrupted you as you stepped away from the bedside of a postoperative patient and you quickly nodded, following him off the ward and down the hall to his office. “I’m up to my eyeballs in trench foot but there’s an officer in here, seems he lacerated his hand helping one of his men climb out a transport - quite stubborn. Whether or not it needs sutures I am confident you can determine…” he exhaled, clearly exhausted from working a double shift as he came to a stop outside the door. “Is it alright if I leave this one in your capable hands? You’ll find everything you need in the cabinet.” He looked at you pleadingly, eyes underscored by dark bags of fatigue as he held out the chart and you nodded quickly.

“Certainly sir, please don’t worry about a thing.” You smiled softly at the relieved slump of his shoulders before he nodded firmly in thanks, dashing off down the hall to no doubt deal with another man’s beleaguered feet.

You glanced over the chart of Captain Ronald Speirs quickly before knocking on the door, giving the man some warning, before you stepped inside. You tilted your head to see the Captain with his back turned to you, halfway back into the worn jacket of his ODs, appearing quite prepared to leave.

“Just a moment please, Captain Speirs, I would like to take a look at your hand, sir.” You said softly, eyes widening as the man turned around swiftly, arms still slightly akimbo, to reveal the very same Lieutenant whom you’d bandaged that morning in Bastogne. Who’d saved your life, and watched you take out a sniper with barely a comment.

His eyes were fatigued, his hair grown long. He clearly hadn’t seen a razor in quite some time and yet you were struggling to recall a moment when you’d found a man so attractive in your entire life. You suddenly felt acutely self conscious in your white and brown seer sucker hospital dress with brown cotton stockings and cardigan to match, nursing cap pinned in your hair.

“It’s nothing ma’am, I’m fine.” He repeated himself word for word and you bit the inside of your cheek, having a hard time deciphering if he was joking or just built that obstinately. You did not miss, however, the slight rasp in the back of his throat.

“Good, let’s keep it that way, shall we Captain?”

You gestured for him to sit in the chair he’d surely recently vacated and carefully took the one across the corner of the desk from him, holding out your hand expectantly. As he set the back of his left hand in yours, you frowned at the laceration along the side of his palm. Captain Munro had been right, it really was borderline in need of suturing.

Laying his hand on the desk gently you stepped over to the cabinet to collect the necessary supplies, deciding to play it safe. You could suture quickly enough - the man clearly needed to get some rest and you did not want to keep him from it. While swiping his palm clean with an iodine wipe you glanced at him as he cleared his throat.

“I didn’t think you were assigned here.” He commented quietly.

You shook your head ruefully as you unpacked a tube of pre-threaded sutures with a curved needle. “I wasn’t until very recently. I used to be assigned to the 12th Evacuation Hospital but after my…behavior it was deemed necessary to reassign me.”

“I said nothing, I swear.” He replied quickly, brow furrowing and you could not help the smile that pulled at your lips.

“I believe you, Captain. Heaven knows where I’d be if you had.” Gently positioning his hand on the desk top, you smoothly rotated the curved needle through first one edge of his cut and then the other, looping the length of it around your forceps twice before pulling the end through to create a square knot.

You repeated two more casts before snipping the ends of the suture, looking to him sharply as he let out a rattling cough. “How long have you had that cough, Captain?”

“Few days…” he replied evasively and you hummed disapprovingly.

“If it doesn’t go away in a couple of days, you should come back and see me.” You spoke as you began the next stitch.

“And if it does get better?” He asked quietly, watching your careful work.

“I’ll be here all the same.” You replied, pressing your lips together as you fought another smile at the thrill that unfurled in your stomach.

“Whom should I ask for?” His voice came out particularly gravelly and he cleared his throat forcefully.

It was your turn to look startled as you suddenly came to realize you had yet to introduce yourself. You quickly shared your name before shaking your head in shame. “You must think me some wild animal, Captain, please forgive me.” You muttered and tied off the fourth and final stitch.

He nodded at you, eyes taking on a glossy quality that had you growing more concerned by the moment. You set down your tools and raised a hand to brush the backs of your fingers against his forehead, heart clenching as his eyes fluttered closed. Those infernal eyelashes dusting against his cheeks. His skin felt a normal temperature but another ragged cough wracked his frame and you clenched your jaw.

“I’d like to listen to your lungs, Captain.” You muttered and stepped over to the cabinet once more to grab the stethoscope you’d seen there.

He blinked up at you as he began to undo his wool shirt. “It’s Ron.” He corrected you and another smile escaped you before you managed to smother it, hands cupping the bell of the stethoscope to warm it.

“Thank you, Ron.” You said softly, inserting the tips into your ears before stepping closer to press the stethoscope against his upper left chest. “Deep breath in for me?”

You listened carefully to each quadrant of his lungs, pleased there was no crackling or anything else abnormal. Satisfied it was most likely just a cold, you looped the stethoscope around your neck as you stepped back.

“Everything seems alright, promise me you’ll get some rest and keep warm?” You asked gently, doing your best not to allow your eyes to linger on the way his undershirt clung to his lithe frame. You did take a selfish moment to appreciate how well his wound from Bastogne had healed, however.

“Promise.” He nodded, doing up his shirt more slowly this time, courtesy of the stitches in his palm. “Remind me when I get to see you again?”

You bit your lip slightly and took a breath. “If the cough doesn’t improve, a couple of days. To get your stitches out, a couple of weeks. Please keep them clean and dry until tomorrow night at least.”

“Got it.” He nodded and straightened his OD jacket, pulling on a worn scarf from the back of the chair before standing slowly.

“But for now straight to bed.” You opened the door, watching over him feeling wildly and inexplicably overprotective.

“Thank you.” He looked to you drowsily and you nodded, seeing him out then turning back to clean up and complete his chart before rushing back to your actual duties that night.

One week passed, and then another. There was no visit from Captain Speirs. You did your utmost to convince yourself it was for the best, that it meant he was healthy. That he’d had his stitches removed by a nurse on the day shift at his convenience. Word came that his entire Division would receive a Presidential Unit Citation and Ike himself would be coming to visit to deliver it on Roosevelt’s behalf.

You were promptly informed by Chief Nurse MacDonald that your presence during the ceremony was not welcome, but if you wanted to observe the Divisional dress rehearsal a few days before, on your own time of course, she would not stop you.

Breaking out your dress uniform for the first time in months, you obstinately got ready just after the end of your shift that morning and strode your way over to the parade ground with a few of the girls on the evening shift who were certainly better rested than you. More than a few off duty nurses from the five other hospitals in Mourmelon had found their way onto the grounds to take a peek at the men in their finery and you could only imagine that number would be many times higher on the fifteenth when Ike himself was there.

The weather was thankfully cooperative as you huddled together near a collection of trees watching the men of the 101st file past. The contrast between their neatly pressed uniforms with mirror shined boots and the battered but not beaten men you’d encountered in Bastogne was truly striking. Each and every one of them truly deserved the honor that was about to be bestowed upon them.

Once everyone was satisfied that the ceremony would proceed without a hitch, the men were dismissed and you turned to head back to your tent to catch what sleep you could before your shift that night. Smothering a yawn behind your hand, the group of women you were walking with all came to a halt when a familiar voice called ‘Nurse!’ All of you almost seemed to turn back as one.

If six pairs of inquisitive female eyes intimidated Captain Speirs he did not let it show. He quickly clarified with your name, the other nurses filing away murmuring amongst themselves disappointedly.

“Good morning, Captain.” You nodded to him as he came to stand in front of you, sliding his helmet from his head to tuck it under his arm.

“Good morning.” He replied, eyes skimming over your uniform curiously.

You noted he’d found the time to visit a barber, his hair neatly trimmed and styled, though you rather missed the tousled waves he’d first arrived with.

“You are sounding well, Captain. I’m glad to hear it.” You smiled softly. “Did your hand mend nicely?”

He lifted it for your inspection and you looked to him startled to see the stitches still in place.

“Captain, these sutures were ready to be removed days ago.” You chided him softly as you cradled his hand in yours.

“I was told you were unavailable.” He replied quietly and you looked to his face quizzically before it dawned on you that he must have returned to the hospital during another shift and simply left when he learned you weren’t there.

“My apologies, I work nights. Any nurse can take care of these, they must itch something fierce.” You frowned.

“What time does your shift begin tonight?” He asked, seemingly happy to leave his hand at your mercy for as long as you chose to hold it.

“2100.” You replied, noting the disappointment that pinched at the bridge of his nose. “But I could meet you there at 2015 if it means getting this taken care of.”

He nodded firmly. “2015, then. Thank you.” He eyed you a moment as you tried in vain to fight back another yawn. “What time does your shift end?”

“0900. I should get back to get some rest. Just wanted to sneak a peek at the big show. You boys will do great when Ike’s in town.” You nodded warmly.

“You won’t be here?” He tilted his head curiously and you let out a scoff of self deprecation.

“Reckless, insubordinate nurses like me aren’t to be seen by the Supreme Allied Commander.”

A furrow appeared between his brows, the muscle of his jaw ticking slightly before he exhaled. “I wish they would stop punishing you for your bravery.”

Your eyebrows shot up beneath the brim of your service cap. You had been trying your damnedest to not let it bother you, especially after hearing the men of the 12th Hospital you’d gone in with had all received the Silver Cross. To hear him speak in your defense was quite honestly overwhelming.

After a careful glance around the nearly empty parade ground confirmed the remaining individuals were otherwise occupied, you leaned in to quickly press your lips to his freshly shaved cheek, thumb swiping away any trace of your lipstick.

“Thank you, Ron.” You swallowed tightly as the heat of his gaze was as palpable as a caress on the skin of your face. “I will see you later to remove your stitches.” Squeezing his hand gently you released it to hang at his side.

His silent nod was the only response you received before you turned to make your way back to your tent for some much needed rest, though your mind would have much rather focused on the way the sunlight lit his eyes than to let you sleep.

Arriving at the hospital that night at 2000 you tracked down Captain Munro and secured his permission to borrow his office once more in the name of treating the stubborn Captain Speirs. Setting out suture scissors and tweezers on a tray upon the desk, you hurried out front to meet the Captain lest he was misinformed about your availability again.

“Good Evening.” He nodded as you stepped outside, hugging your cardigan close against the chill of the night.

“Evening, Captain, please follow me.” You smiled and led him through the maze of hallways before holding open the door to the prepared office.

He assumed the same seat as before and, closing the door behind you, you sat opposite, looking over his palm as he set it in your waiting hand.

“You’ve done a very good job keeping it clean for me, Captain, thank you.” You smiled and picked up the curved scissors, the edge that pressed against the skin not at all sharp. “I’ll cut the stitches first and then pull them out with the tweezers, alright?”

He nodded, watching you closely as you snipped your way through the silk strands very carefully.

“They call me ‘killer’ you know…” he spoke apropos of nothing and you slowly raised your eyes, feeling as though you were joining an internal conversation well in progress.

Rumors spread through camp faster than that bone rattling cough he’d arrived with - you’d heard your fair share of things about him. Particularly after your tent mates had learned that he’d spoken to you earlier that day on the parade ground.

“Sure he’s pretty and all but after the things he did to those Nazi prisoners…” Betty from Indiana had insisted with a dramatic shudder.

“And his own Sergeant!” Philomena of New York had chimed in with an emphatic nod.

All of it struck you as hollow and vapid, coming from two wide-eyed girls fresh from Stateside who’d only ever known war stationed in hospitals with roofs and walls. Never been fired on, never had an enemy soldier try and take the life of a patient right out from under them.

“Well, Ron,” you replied thoughtfully as you set the scissors onto the waiting tray, “they could easily say the same thing about me. It just so happens I had a very honorable man at my side when my anger got the best of me.”

His eyes seized yours, pinning you to the spot with your hand hovering just above the set of tweezers as you forgot how to breathe. His lips tentatively began to form words several times before he abandoned his attempts to speak and lunged forward to close the space between you, his lips slotting against yours in reply instead.

Inhaling sharply through your nose in surprise, you found yourself quickly leaning into his kiss, fingers threading into his shorter hair as you tilted your head to press your lips more firmly to his. Sliding his arms around your shoulders, he pulled you close, tongue delving into your mouth greedily. A soft whimper escaped your throat only to be swallowed by his devouring mouth as he tasted you thoroughly.

Appearing discontent with the separation between your bodies, his hands shifted to grip your hips, guiding you onto his lap before his fingers began to pluck at the buttons of your cardigan. Rucking up the skirt of your dress and slip beneath, you settled over his hips, shuddering as the hard bulge of his length nestled tightly against your core.

“We don’t have a lot of time” you panted against his lips as his hands brushed aside your open cardigan to tug at the tie of your wrap dress, revealing your cream coloured slip beneath.

“Understood.” He murmured as he pulled back to drink you in, eyes taking on that glossy quality from back in February that’d had you so convinced he was febrile.

“Ron…” you urged gently, your own hands sliding between your bodies to work at the fastenings of his dress trousers.

Lost in some sort of trance he leaned forward to press his lips against the hollow of your throat before he secured the ball chain of your ID tags between his teeth and pulled them out from beneath the v-neck of your slip. Brushing his lips against the flat metal stamped with your name and serial number, preceded by the letter N, your heart lurched beneath your ribs fondly as it forgot its normal rhythm for a few beats.

The feel of his fingertips undoing the fastenings of your stockings from your garter straps refocused you and you quickly worked his fly open, sliding his trousers and boxers down as he did the same with your underwear, depositing them onto the floor.

Shifting higher onto your knees, you pressed your face against his temple as he took his cock into his hand, pressing into your entrance slowly. You whimpered breathily against his hair before dropping your head to the crook of his shoulder to try your best to keep your volume down. Rocking your hips against his with a smothered moan you clenched your thighs to begin working up and down along his length.

Heavy breaths fell from his parted lips, brushing against the skin of your neck, goose flesh erupting in the wake of each exhale. His fingers curled into the flesh of your hips as he helped drive your hips against his.

“Ahn, Ron!” You keened against his jacket, lifting your head to kiss him hungrily.

He rocked his hips up into yours each time your pelvis met his before letting out a frustrated grunt against your lips. “On the desk.” He rasped pleadingly and you nodded quickly, sliding from his lap to shuffle backwards, pushing the tray of instruments further behind you before perching on the edge.

Surging to his feet, he nestled between your legs, tongue sliding along yours as he thrust into your aching warmth once more. You cried out hungrily down his throat as your nails dug into the sleeves of his uniform jacket, clinging to him as he set a deliciously dizzying pace that had your toes curling in your shoes.

A ragged moan rumbled through his chest as his cock twitched within your wet heat and he quickly pulled back, chest heaving. Pushing from the desk, you fell to your knees, ignoring the slight sting as they impacted the floor, to wrap your lips around the leaking tip of his length.

He hissed through clenched teeth, hand coming to rest against the back of your head as you hollowed your cheeks tightly around him. Encircling him in your grasp, you eagerly stared up at his face as you stroked his cock, clenching your thighs together as the corded muscle of his neck flexed with the effort to remain silent as his salty release filled your mouth.

Laving him clean with your tongue, you sat back on your heels, swallowing every last drop as he watched on in stunned silence. Fingers sliding up your thighs to retrieve the first of your garter straps, you shivered a little as you remained highly sensitive, having been so close yourself, but also very much aware of the lack of time. You rose to your feet, about to begin fastening your stockings when his hands were on your waist, guiding you to sit on top of the desk once again.

“You didn’t…” He exhaled through flared nostrils and shook his head sharply. “Unacceptable.” Was all the warning he afforded you before he crouched down to seal his lips around your throbbing clit, two fingers plunging into your trembling warmth.

“Holy…” you barely managed to cover your mouth with your palm, hips bucking violently toward him.

He hummed against you approvingly as you lay back onto the worn wooden surface, writhing as fingers picked up the thread of your pleasure, winding it tighter and tighter as his mouth felt like it was sucking your very soul from you. Every muscle in your body became taught with exquisite tension until, at last, like the blowing of a fuse your release detonated behind your clenched eyelids.

Relaxing into the desk top with languid ease, you ran your fingers through his hair in tender appreciation. “Really…have no time now…” you murmured breathlessly and he pressed his damp lips to your inner thigh before pulling you up to a seated position and began to help you re-dress.

Any time his lips were vaguely within the vincinty of yours, you unhelpfully insisted on kissing him softly, significantly hindering progress, but eventually the pair of you were mostly presentable. He cupped your cheek with his left hand and your eyes shot wide at the rasp of sutures against your skin.

“Ron!” You gasped, grabbing his wrist and groping behind you for the tweezers before setting about carefully trying to remove them.

It was his turn to be a nuisance as he nuzzled his face into the soft skin of your neck, sighing gently, making you giggle under your breath as his eyelashes tickled your flesh.

“You are a wild animal.” His voice held a dreamlike quality, lips brushing against your throat as he spoke.

You honestly would have swatted him if his tone weren’t so reverent, doing your best to focus on removing the last two sutures.

“A lioness - fierce and strong and brave and gorgeous.” He rambled before brushing a line of feather-light kisses up towards your jaw.

It made your heart ache with the longing to linger with this verbose version of him that had somehow been unleashed, but according to the clock above the door, you had to be on duty in two minutes.

“Ronald Speirs, you sweet talker.” You whispered weakly, setting down the tweezers, your task finally managed. “I hope you sleep well.”

“You know I will, thanks to you.” His eyes met yours warmly before he cupped your cheeks, pulling you in for one last searing kiss. “May I…write to you?” He asked, incongruously hesitant after all that had transpired.

Sliding your arms around his neck, you kissed his forehead. “You’d better. This lioness has claws.” You smirked in a playfully threatening manner, earning a broad grin in response.

————————————-

Band of Brothers Masterlist

Tag list: @bcon24 , @ronsparky

Post-script: Firstly, I agonized for several hours about whether or not to have Ron be married in this. Ultimately, after reading that Ronald Speirs asked his first wife not be mentioned in any way in the miniseries I decided to do the same here. Secondly, while I used a fake name for the Major who flew into Bastogne by glider, this is all based on real events that took place! I decided to use fictional characters here to justify the radical actions I had them take in bringing the reader, but you the story of Major Soutter and the men of the 12th Evacuation Hospital is really quite something!

[ithinkabouttzu]

Hilo! Can you do the easy boys with an extra ticklish reader?????

Easy co. dating an extra ticklish s/o!

a/n: Hi! Thank you so much for your request! I hope you enjoy lovely! 💗

genre: romance; fluff

warnings: sorry guys i used the word tickle like a 100 times in this, there’s a little suggestion!

description: The men of easy co. reacting to you (their s/o) being extra ticklish!

Taglist: @executethyself35 @linhkhanhcps @1waveshortofashipwreck @grumpy-liebgott @barbeygirl @samwinchesterslostshoe @ronsenthal @sweetxvanixlla @mstiemountainhop (If you want to be on this list, let me know!! :))

BoB masterlist

Dick Winters: He thinks it’s adorable. The first time he tickled you he probably wouldn’t even have meant to do it on purpose, like maybe his finger brushed beside your arm and you immediately started to laugh hysterically. He would think something was wrong with you until you told him lmao. He’ll keep it in mind though next time you try to tickle him.

Lewis Nixon: “Oh come on! You can’t run away now!” He’d figure out how ticklish you were when he decided it would be nice to give you a sweet kiss on your neck. Then he would completely take advantage of the fact that you are extremely ticklish there and start kissing the same spot over and over again.

Carwood Lipton: He would discover all of this when he was trying to be a gentleman to you and give you a nice foot massage after a long day on your feet. The moment he puts his hands on the back of your sole you would be in a giggling fit. He would sit there and look confused, waiting for some sort of joke. Once you told him, he would find it cute and laugh it off with you.

Joe Toye: When you tell him that you get ticklish very easily, he isn’t quite sure what to think of it at first. When he wraps his arms around your waist and sees you break into immediate laughter, he gets it then, and he finds it to be the cutest thing ever. He’ll tickle you over and over again just to hear that pretty laugh of yours.

Joe Liebgott: “Oh come on honey, you’re really that ticklish, huh? I guess I’ll have to keep that in mind for later then.” He honestly doesn’t believe you when you tell him how ticklish you were at first, but like nix, he’d try to be smooth and kiss your neck, and have you in a giggling fit in return. “Oh doll, it can’t be too bad, i’m just tryin’ to give ya’ some lovin’ that’s all.”

Bill Guarnere: I feel like this fucker here is going to make it into somethins sexual when it’s really not lmao. Like once he knows that you’re super ticklish, he's going to purposefully tickle you until you're begging for him to stop, and once you’re doing that he’s already in the mood to do something else iykyk. Better to just not tell him at all LOLL.

George Luz: When you tell him you can be extra ticklish at times he is taking that to his advantage 100%. If you guys are in the middle of some play fight and he knows you’re winning, he's gonna start tickling you, same for anything else you could be beating him at. Whenever he just wants to hear your laugh his immediate thought is to tickle you and it makes him feel SO happy

Eugene Roe: Now he wants to get into a million tickle battles with you. The sweetest thing about it is if he was hugging you or touching somewhere where you were ticklish he would ask if you were okay and if he needed to move his hand to make you comfortable. ( because he knows how frustrating that must get at times and he’d hate to accidentally hurt you.)

Bull Randleman: He doesn’t have much of a reaction when you tell him other than thinking that it’s a cute niche trait of yours. I think he wouldn’t really tickle you unless he was having a horrible day and just really needed to hear you laugh. Kinda like Bull, he'd be wary of touching one of your tickle spots and accidentally irritate that spot since you’re sensitive there.

Floyd Talbert: He’s similar to luz when you tell him that, he’s going to take it to his advantage and use it against you anytime he needs the upper hand (in a very playful way of course.) He’s also kinda like Bill too in the same way that he likes hearing you beg lol. Whenever you’re feeling sad, be ready to be tickled by him until you feel better haha.

Skip Muck: Oh gosh, once you tell him that you’re very ticklish he’s now going to tickle you every time you get some exciting news, need some cheering up, want some physical touch from him, literally anything possible, he just needs a reason to tickle you. He loves making sure your and his relationship is very lightweight and happy, and that's the best way to do it.

Don Malarkey: Honestly tickling you is his way of flirting with you before you guys ever got into an established romantic relationship. Once you guys are in that relationship he’ll still do it in a flirty way loll. He also really finds it as a form of intimacy, it's his way of being close to you, and seeing you smile always feels nice too.

Babe Heffron: “No way! Me too!” This is completely fanon but I have this idea in my head that he would also be extremely ticklish too. Like you and him would be trying to cuddle and both end up fighting for y’all’s lives because you guys are accidentally tickling each other. It’s also his biggest weapon against you so beware lol.

Shifty Powers: He would be the perfect partner for a very ticklish person because he knows when it's appropriate and not appropriate to do it. He knows that being tickled after a while can hurt, so if and when he is tickling you he won’t do it for too long. As long as you are laughing and having a good time then he’s good with it.

Frank Perconte: He’s the type of guy that likes to sneak up on you and tickle that spot on your neck when you’re focusing on something. He loves fucking with you like that. He knows that tickling you is your biggest weakness so he will use it against you anytime he needs the upper hand (Like floyd lmao.)

Ronald Speirs: You would tell him that you’re ticklish, but the horrible thing is, this man couldn’t be able to tickle someone correctly even if his life depended on it. The thing is, whenever he tries to tickle you he ends up digging his fingertips into you which just makes you hurt in the end. He gets an A for effort though.

Johnny Martin: He probably won’t tickle you a whole lot, mostly because he’s not always the most playful, but if you had started tickling him first he would definitely be there to finish it and win at the unspoken tickle war lol. He would be the guy to swear he’s just not ticklish but once you get to that one spot on his side, it’s game over for him.

Skinny Sisk: He’s just like Luz, he’s going to take full advantage of the fact that you’re super ticklish, he loves loves LOVES being playful with you so tickling is always a go-to for him. He also does it when he just really wants to be close to you but doesn’t know how to express that to you. His favorite spot to tickle you is gotta be that spot under your armpit.

Chuck Grant: He thinks it’s super adorable that you get so ticklish so easily. The only thing is, like Speirs, he isn’t very good at tickling at all LOL. He does this one thing that is so cute and it's called, “Hand tickling” which is just caressing your hand in a very fast way lmao. Not a very good tickler but he gets an A+ for creativity and effort.

David Webster: He doesn’t like tickling you a whole lot for a number of reasons, one because too much of it can stimulate seizures, brain aneurysm, and eventually death. (He’s just a tad bit dramatic lol.) And if he does tickle you it’s probably because you started it first. I could definitely see him doing it a lot by accident though.

Buck Compton: He’s like Skip in this scenario. Now just because you told him that you get ticklish very easily, he is going to go out of his way to try and tickle you almost 24/7. Like almost every other night before you and him go to bed, he’s giving himself some corny ass name like “The Tickle Monster” lmao.

Thank you for your cute request!! If you enjoyed, please make sure to like or reblog!! I love you all! <333

[lostloveletters]

You Can’t Start a Fire Without a Spark (Ron Speirs x Reader)

Summary: Night falls in Bavaria to victorious revelry, and at the goading of your friends, the lust you've been kindling in secret suddenly burns hot and wild to the touch.

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used besides the slightest bit of backstory. Inspired by several Bruce Springsteen songs. This is based on the fictional portrayals in the HBO miniseries and not the real individuals. (Also, hi I’m Battie! This is my first Band of Brothers fic despite being a fan of the miniseries since 2016. Let me know what you think🖤) Do not interact if you’re under 18, are a terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: Inherent power imbalance. Explicit content involving vaginal fingering and unprotected sex.

You weren’t sure how six of you managed to squeeze into a booth together in the Bavarian bar, elbow-to-elbow as you drank beer and shouted over each other. Sitting squished against Talbert, who was squished against Malarkey, one of your legs wasn’t even in the booth. On the other side of the table, Babe, Perconte, and Luz were in the same situation.

Victory in Europe had just been declared. The celebratory feeling filled your lungs with each breath despite the cloud of cigarette smoke that hung over the bar. With the war in Japan still raging on, the likelihood of those without enough points having to endure another drop remained up in the air. One night of fun wouldn’t hurt anybody. No one could say you hadn’t earned it.

Glancing around at your friends, the guys you lived and would’ve died for—even after the war ended, if you were being honest with yourself. You couldn’t imagine being closer with anyone else. Growing up without much of a family, passed around homes of distant relatives and near strangers until you had enough and ventured out on your own as a teen, you’d never had such strong connections before. The only reason you were even allowed to work so closely with Easy Company, was the absence of any next-of-kin, no one to cause a fuss if something went wrong while you were overseas. You were non-combat detail, of course, typing and running errands as needed, but more often than was likely ideal, you found yourself somewhere on the line with the medic training you’d gotten. 

You hadn’t been at Toccoa with them, only meeting most of the guys just before D-Day. After Operation Market Garden’s failure in Holland, they came around to you upon the return to Aldbourne, least surprising of whom was Talbert, ever so kindly taking you under his wing when he was recovering from being accidentally stabbed by Smith. The two of you became close friends, and though you heard of his exploits with women in just about every city the company passed through, he seemed hellbent on being your wingman, trying to set you up with at least half a dozen members of Easy to little success. 

With the taste of sweet victory and bold German beer on everyone’s lips, declarations of what and who everyone would ideally do to celebrate poured from your friends with little prompting. Knowing you well enough at that point, Tab took the opportunity to get you in on the conversation, the light mood and buzz in your system leaving you more loose-lipped than usual.

“Alright, our company’s eligible bachelorette,” Tab said, conspiratorial mirth in his voice. “Fraternization rules to the dust, which of Easy’s officers would you do your celebrating with?”

Your lips twitched, failing to suppress your smile as your drinking buddies awaited your answer. “Speirs.”

Finishing off the rest of your beer, you stifled your amusement at the clamor that ensued. Undoubtedly the least expected answer, part of Tab’s failure to secure a date for you among his comrades was your infatuation with the legendary captain—closely guarded, until you had a beer or two in you, apparently. 

“Speirs?” Babe repeated incredulously.

“No way,” Malarkey said, shaking his head. “No fucking way.”

“They need to get you to one of those headshrinkers,” Perconte said.

“Hold on a minute,” Tab said with an amused smile, trying to reign in the chaos. “Let’s hear her out.”

“You wanna know why?” you asked.

Ever since Speirs stuck with Easy Company after Bastogne, you worked closely with him as you did the other officers, taking notes and keeping memos for them. Speirs often requisitioned you to type up reports for him, finding it easier to dictate what he wanted written to you than typing them himself. Sometimes you found his attention drifting off when it was a more mundane report, his words trailing away while he looked at you, typically slouched on a chair or couch at the end of a long day. You would let yourself take him in, hoping the perceptive man wouldn’t notice the way your eyes trailed up his long, outstretched legs to his disheveled hair. 

He provided the most attention to battlefield exploits, and at times you couldn’t keep up with how fast he was speaking or would find yourself a bit startled by some of the gruesome details he relayed. You’d heard the rumors about him. Everyone had. But a disgustingly repressed part of you that’d emerged at some point during the war was secretly thrilled by them, almost hoping they were true. 

“Well, you owe us that much,” Luz said.

“I owe you all jack and shit.”

“What if I buy you another drink?”

“I think I’m gonna need another one after hearing this,” Babe muttered.

“Let’s see, why would I sleep with Captain Speirs,” you said, playfully tapping your chin in faux thought. “For starters, he’s fine as hell, which should be reason enough. I like that he’s a no-nonsense kinda guy. He has this intensity that I think is really sexy.”

The cacophony of bewilderment and objection that filled the booth met its slow death when the occupant of the booth behind yours got up. You weren’t sure whether to laugh or cry when you saw it was Speirs.

He made his way out of the pub, your light mood with him. 

“Oh my god,” you groaned. “Do you think he heard?”

“No way he didn’t,” Malarkey said.

“Fuck, I need to do something before I get demoted or transferred or something.”

Tab grinned. “Well, if you’re not walking straight tomorrow, we’ll know you did something.”

“Shut up, jerk!” you hissed. “I’m in this mess because of you.”

He gave you a mocking salute.

You flipped him off as you got up from the table, running after your CO who more than likely overheard you expressing to your buddies that you’d enthusiastically have sex with him. Of course it happened the one time you actually joined in on their vulgarity.

Unlike his silent stride, your boots pounded against the pavement, announcing your approach to him.

He turned around abruptly, and you nearly fell over your own feet as you stopped in your tracks. 

His intense gaze on you felt like being at the end of his rifle’s sight. “Are you drunk, Y/L/N?”

“No—no, sir.”

“Good. I could use your help with a report.”

You stared at him blankly. A report. At ten o’clock at night. “Of course, sir. Anything you need.”

The corners of his lips upturned for a split second. “I’m sure.” Fuck. He’d definitely heard you.

The two of you started off down the street, toward a more residential area wherein officers had requisitioned houses for the US Army’s use for the foreseeable future. Almost dreamily picturesque, tree branches waved at you in the cool night breeze, the surrounding mountains illuminated by the bright fullness of the moon. From the soft glow of street lamps lighting your way, something you’d previously taken for granted, you tried not to stare at him. In the warm glow of that balmy summer evening, however, he looked almost too good to be true. Hair slightly unkempt, the whisper of stubble along his jaw and cheeks, surely his face would feel like heaven between your thighs. 

Soldiers in all states of drunkenness ambled up and down either side of the street, hollering and singing in carefree celebration. Speirs placed a hand on the small of your back, guiding you past a group of men who could hardly walk straight. One of them walked right into you, his head nearly colliding with yours.

“Fuck,” the young soldier grumbled under his breath, shooting you a dirty look for being in his way.

Speirs wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you aside to stand in front of you. “Private,” he snapped, staring down the young man who looked like he was about to shit himself. “I advise you get yourself together and watch where you’re going.”

“Yes, sir—Captain Speirs, sir,” he said, turning his attention to you. “Sorry, ma’am.”

You nodded silently, and the private ran off after his buddies. 

Speirs turned to you, his hands on your shoulders as his intense gaze searched your face for any sign of injury.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“I’m fine.”

In Hagenau, one of the replacements had been pestering you the moment he laid eyes on you. At first, you humored him, supposing he needed a friend, as the men who’d been through Normandy and Bastogne were understandably closed-off and tight knit. Thought the new guys were too green, too eager to do something stupid and get someone killed in pursuit of battlefield glory that was too haunting to exist. 

Then he started getting handsy, not enough to be outright inappropriate, but enough to make you uncomfortable. You weren’t sure what possessed you to mention it to Speirs when he’d asked you how you were doing one afternoon. His brow furrowed, he gave you a silent nod in response. The replacement had been transferred elsewhere the following day.

Though Speirs stared right at you, there was something far away in his eyes as he squeezed your shoulders. 

“I’m fine, sir,” you repeated. “I promise.”

“Hmm? Oh, right,” he said softly. 

He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, not bothering to offer you one. You were in the minority of people who didn’t smoke, allowing you to leverage the packs in your rations to trade amongst the men. As time went on, you’d leave them on top of your finished reports for Speirs, especially if they were Luckys. You watched silently as he lit the cigarette in his mouth, a shining silver lighter in his hand. His eyes drifted from the flame back to you, though you noticed the slightest spark behind them.

The rest of the walk was uneventful until you reached the house. A few stragglers hung around on the street outside, their voices becoming the slightest bit more hushed as they watched you follow Speirs inside. By the time the front door shut, they’d already begun speculating why the two of you were going to his place so late. With the way the men spread gossip, you could hazard a guess as to what the tale would morph into by the morning. You silently bemoaned the prospect of the night hardly being as interesting as whatever they conjured up.

Following him upstairs, the makeshift office seemed especially cramped with the boxes and papers that were haphazardly spread around the place. It’d probably take weeks to sift through it all, especially since a glance at one of the files appeared to be in German. Getting help wouldn’t be the issue, but rather the fact that none of the members of Easy who knew German were particularly inclined toward office work, becoming restless after an hour or so. 

A problem for another time, however. Glancing at the clock, it was nearly half past ten, and you were almost inclined to ask Speirs about coffee, depending on how long he expected the report to take. You sat down at the desk, ready to begin typing the date when you noticed the ink was out.

“Is there any typewriter ribbon around, sir?” you asked.

He nodded. “Should be in one of the drawers.”

You opened the drawer immediately to your right, finding a mess of stationary that had clearly been shoved in carelessly. Or maybe someone had taken something out of it in a hurry. Digging through it, you came up empty, and moved onto the drawer below it. No dice. The one to your left didn’t have typewriter ribbon either, at least, you would have been surprised to find it tucked in with the loot that nearly filled the thing to the brim–shining silverware, glistening jewelry, and trinkets that someone with a keener eye than you had clearly decided were valuable enough to keep. 

His extensive looting was an open secret, but a glimpse of this treasure trove was a shock to the system. So entranced by the contents of the drawer, you didn’t hear him walk up beside you until his shadow fell over the necklaces and rings you silently coveted.  

He gave you a sly smile, wolfish in the dim lighting. “Haven’t had much of a chance to organize those.”

“They’re beautiful,” you whispered in awe, gingerly touching a pearl necklace.

“Try them on.”

“Are you sure?”

“Go ahead.”

You picked up the string of pearls, a nervousness washing over you at holding something so valuable, something of his. Walking over to the window, the nearest reflective surface you could find, you pulled the necklace on, garish against your uniform. You tried shaking off the odd feeling of playing dress-up in front of your commanding officer, a girlish whim he inexplicably allowed you to indulge in. His expression was unreadable when you turned around for him.

“They suit you,” he finally said, brushing his fingers against the pearls, slowly drifting lower to the exposed skin of your decollete. “Keep them.”

It wasn’t uncommon for him to bring you small gifts every now and then—typewriter ribbon, fountain pens, chocolate, trinkets. You knew better than to question where he got them, as he seemed to give them to you at the perfect moment. The stationary supplies when you were running low on them, chocolate and trinkets when you were feeling down. At times they’d be accompanied by notes from him. Usually short, but so sincere you treasured them more than the gifts. Whenever you’d try to thank him, he’d just shrug, almost dismissing the gesture.

This time, feeling bold in the cover of night, you pressed your lips to his cheek, uttering a quiet “thank you.”

He didn’t react. Disappointed, you moved to sit back down at the desk until he grabbed your arm, gently pulling you back to him.

“Were you telling the truth?” he asked, his voice a husky, demanding whisper. “Back at the bar.”

“Yes.”

“So if I said I’ve wanted you in a bad way since Bastogne?”

You kissed him, an explosion of warmth in your chest as you tangled your fingers in his hair. He settled his hands on your hips, squeezing them with a tenderness that betrayed his longing. Parting your lips for him, you allowed him to deepen the kiss, wanting to see how far he’d take it. 

Almost overwhelmed by his gentle intensity, you pulled away from his lips, though his mouth chased yours, capturing yet another kiss from you.

“Show me how you want me,” you pleaded with desperate kisses to his face, trailing down to his throat where you could feel the way he groaned in pleasure at your touch. 

“In my room,” he managed to say. “I wanna lay you on the bed and–”

“Anything, anything you want, Ron.”

His lips slightly blushed from the ferocity of your kiss, he parted his mouth as if to speak, but instead took your hand firmly in his. 

He led you straight down the nondescript hallway that nevertheless left you feeling turned around, dizzied by your desire for him. A door opened, and you were promptly pulled inside the room. The click of the lock behind you sent a slight shiver down your spine. 

Pulled into his arms again, you lost yourself in his fervent kiss, until you reached down, palming his hardening cock through his pants. He moaned into your mouth, the sound only exacerbating the heat between your thighs, the ache inside of you that up until that point had been abated by your fingers, always rushed, never satisfying the urge to be filled–by him, preferably. From the way he felt beneath your hand, he could do all of that and more. 

And after the months of silently, almost guiltily lusting after him like a nun, he wanted you too. The ego boost emboldened you. “Did you ever think about me when you were alone?” you asked, giving his bulge a gentle squeeze.

“Yes–fuck,” he groaned.

“Like what?”

“Besides keeping me warm in that goddamn forest? This–I thought of this,” he murmured against your lips. “But I didn’t let myself think of a future with you. I couldn’t have survived if I did.”

“And now?”

“I want everything you’ll give me, sweetheart.”

“Lucky you, that’s exactly what I wanna give.”

He smiled slightly, his hands hastily working to unbutton your shirt. “Lucky–except you’re wearing too many clothes.”

You reached for the pearls, about to take them off when he caught your wrist in his hand.

“Leave them on.” His voice was steady, authoritative, the closest he sounded to Speirs since he scolded the private who walked into you earlier. 

Weak in the knees, you acquiesced to the one and only order your captain would give you that night. You otherwise undressed, your uniform in a pile at your feet. Your bra and panties were simple, certainly not the sexy lingerie you’d fantasized about seducing Ron in, but his eyes blazed as if your body were hugged by an inviting satin set. A burst of confidence rushed through you, and you held his gaze as you discarded your bra and panties. 

You laid back on the bed as he undressed, watching intently until he was down to nothing more than his underwear, his hard cock straining against the fabric. He pulled them off, and you sucked in a breath at how big he was. Erect, at attention for you, all the more intimidating as he approached, joining you on the bed. His daring in the line of fire sure as hell wasn’t compensating for anything.

He straddled your hips, his eyes taking in your naked form with a primal intensity that made your breath catch in your throat. He reached down, two of his fingers circling your clit, your body trembled beneath his touch. By the way he studied how your face contorted in pleasure as a foreign-sounding moan rose from deep in your chest, you could tell it was payback for your teasing him just minutes before. 

His fingers shifted, slipping inside your wet core with ease. He pumped them in and out at a steady pace that made your stomach tighten and toes curl, but slowly bringing you closer to orgasm. You bucked your hips when he curled his fingers inside of you, blood rushing in your ears so loud that you could hardly hear the obscene sounds coming from your pussy. A lump formed in your throat, one that made you nearly howl in frustration.

“Who got you this worked up, sweetheart?” he asked, nipping the shell of your ear.

A whimper. “You.”

“What was that?”

“You.” Through a haze of lust-soaked desperation, you took his face in your hands. “Don’t make me beg, Sparky. It’s always been you.”

He pulled his hand from between your legs, and you nearly whined until he slid his length inside your pussy, your walls clenching around his cock. You braced yourself on his shoulder blades, your nails doing a number on him as you dug them into his taut skin while he thrust into you. Carefully at first, almost frustratingly so, until you cried, “More.”

He was bigger than you were used to, even before the war, but the slight discomfort was drowned out by the way his steady, deep thrusts filled you. He ducked his head down, taking one of your breasts in his mouth, his hand groping the other. Sucking on your breast, his teeth grazed your nipple, the hint of pain complimenting the pleasure. Your climax was so close you could see it if you closed your eyes, raw and vulnerable.

“Ron, I’m so close,” you moaned. “Don’t stop.”

He lifted his head, nodding. “Where should I–”

“Inside–fuck–I want you to cum inside me.”

And he did, with an erratic thrust that pushed him deeper inside you still. You kissed him as your pussy milked his cock, lifting your hips to grind against him for the slightest bit of friction to your clit. You threw your head back as you came, an obscene moan escaping your lips as pleasure spread across your body, white-hot like a star in supernova.

His name fell from your lips, laced with curses, over and over like a vulgar prayer. He pressed sloppy, open-mouthed kisses along your decollete, his lips brushing the pearls that stuck to your sweat-sheened skin until he shuddered, bottoming out in you. 

He pulled out slowly, his toned chest heaving before he collapsed next to you. Reaching over to the nightstand, he grabbed a pack of cigarettes, silently offering you one. You declined, and he placed one between his lips, using a nearby match to light it before taking you in his arms. You settled comfortably against his chest, closing your eyes for a few moments.

“So, what about that report?” you asked slyly when you’d finally caught your breath.

His quiet laughter rumbled in his chest, and he took a drag from his cigarette, his gaze betraying his adoration as he looked at you. “I might need your help again tomorrow night."

Knowing it was too risky for you to spend the night, he reluctantly let you leave around three in the morning, a slight pout on his face as you took off the pearl necklace and tucked it into your pocket. You left him with a passionate parting kiss, one that he used to nearly convince you to stay just a little bit longer until you quietly promised you’d report to him first thing. 

The streets were mostly deserted except for the men on patrol. You kept your head down, booking it back to where you were quartered, hoping your arrival wouldn’t wake anyone up, or at least raise any questions.

Just your luck, you ran right into Tab, a shit-eating grin on his face at your disheveled appearance. “I knew it."