#it's kinda wonky in a few places hope you don't mind that :)

[rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me]

hello, Dillo! Could I possibly get some headcannons or scenario (whatever you feel like writing) of a very bubbly, sweet, and awkward s/o that just- refuses to acknowledge they like Dally because they believe he'd never in a million years like them back? Like I'm imagining one day they're chilling with Pony and Johnny and they're not being as funny or playful like usual and the boys ask why and they just whisper "I wish I was Dally's type". So could I possibly just have something with Dally's reaction to it all?

if it's too specific or if you just don't feel like it, don't worry! <3

Not Into You

A/N: Hey, hey! This has been a long time coming, and I think it turned out sort of wonky and weird, but I'm kinda happy with it so I hope you are too! Please enjoy!

“They said what?”

Johnny just shrugs and looks over at Ponyboy, shoving a few more fries in his mouth. The plate in front of him is almost empty already, the small pile of ketchup he’d squirted out almost gone too. Ponyboy shrugs too and takes another sip of his coke. They’re both acting way too calm for what they’ve told Dallas.

“I’m serious,” Dally repeats. “They said that? You’re not kiddin’?”

“Why would we lie about that?” Pony runs his finger around the rim of his glass, pushing the straw around as he goes. “Y/N told us they thought you could never like ‘em back because the two of you are so different.”

Dally chews thoughtfully on his own straw and leans a little farther into the corner of the diner booth. Johnny and Ponyboy look unfazed on the other side of the table, the latter doing his best to steal fries off Johnny’s plate without being caught. It doesn’t work and Johnny sends him a small glare. Ponyboy backs off and takes another drink of his soda.

“You’re bein’ serious, right?” Dallas asks again. “Cause if you’re not, I swear, I’ll kill the both of yous.”

Ponyboy rolls his eyes and Dally has half a mind to reach across the table and smack him upside the head. “We told ya we weren’t, alright? They told us yesterday when we were hangin’ out.”

Sighing, Dally stays in his seat and thinks over what to do next. Stark blue eyes trace the lines of the table and the logo on the side of his drink as he weighs his options and works on making up his mind. When he finally does, he stands up with a smug smirk.

“Where are you headin’, Dal?” Johnny asks. He swats at Ponyboy’s hand without looking away from Dallas when Pony’s fingers stray too close to his fries.

“To find Y/N,” he says simply. “I gotta tell ‘em they were wrong.”

He finds them in the lot, kicking around a can that has definitely seen better days. They look smaller than usual. Shoulders drawn in, head down as they mutter softly to themselves. Dally starts to jog a little to cross the street and that’s when they look up. Their eyes find his and they seem to shrink a little more.

“H-hey, Dallas,” they stutter. One corner of their mouth quirks up in a smile that’s all too forced. “What have you been-,”

They’re cut off as the New Yorker reaches out for them, one hand landing on their hip, the other cupping the side of their face as he brings them close together, his lips landing on theirs. Y/N makes a surprised noise into the kiss but doesn’t pull away, so Dally counts that as a win and doesn’t let go. He’s pleasantly surprised himself when he feels their hands rise to the back of his neck, tangling in his hair and keeping him in place.

When they finally break up, they’re both smiling and breathing heavily.

Y/N looks a little lost, eyes wide and confused as they stare at Dallas, so he figures he ought to try and fix that. He leans in again and they meet him halfway and then they’re kissing again in the wide-open lot.

“You gonna explain somethin’ to me now?” Dally asks after pulling back. His thumb smooths over their cheek and Y/N leans into the touch faster than Dally thought they would. “Why in the world did you think I wasn’t gonna like you? And why did you tell Johnny and Ponyboy instead of talkin’ to me?”

Blushing, Y/N looks down at the ground but Dally gently nudges their face back up with a finger under their chin. He raises an eyebrow expectantly and the action gets a small laugh out of them.

“I just thought,” they started quietly, “that you wouldn't like me. We’re so different, y’know? I’m not really the kind of person you usually go out with. I figured you wouldn’t be into me.”

Dally rolls his eyes and pulls them into a hug, tucking their head into his shoulder. He rocks gently and squeezes them tight before dropping a kiss on their hair.

“You ever think about how none of the people I go out with ever stick around? You ever think that maybe since we’re so different we’d do well together?”

“I guess not.”

“We’ll maybe you should’ve, ya idiot,” Dallas chides without any anger or annoyance in his tone. “Maybe then I could’ve taken you out earlier.”

Y/N looks up at him, wide-eyed and shocked. “You wanna take me out? You’re serious?”

“You don’t wanna go out?”

“No! No, I do, it’s just that- you’re serious, you’re not jokin’?”

Rolling his eyes again, Dally leans in to kiss them again, pausing to talk before he connects his lips with theirs. “I’m gonna take you out. Promise. But right now, I’m just gonna kiss you.”

[wiltingofthewhitelily]

Can you write some Nyo!CanUkr or maybe some Nyo!TaiViet? Thanks!

A/N: Of course I can! I chose Nyo!CanUkr if you don't mind :) Thanks for requesting something!

Sorry this is kinda late, I've been pretty tired the last few days—I think it's because of my sleeping schedule getting a little wonky due to having no school lol.

But anyway, this little prompt was basically the first thing to pop into my head lol. Hope you guys enjoy!

Dmitri is Nyo!Ukraine, while Madeline is Nyo!Canada :)

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AU: Human AU

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Dmitri walked into the kitchen, yawning and rubbing at his eye with his large fist. Immediately he was greeted by the smell of something delicious, and when he opened his eyes back up he saw his girlfriend, Madeline, hovering over the stove cooking something.

Dmitri grew a grin. "Good morning, sweetheart."

Madeline looked over at him and smiled. "Oh, you're finally awake! Good morning."

Dmitri cocked an eyebrow and said jokingly, "Geez, what's with the 'finally'? I know I sleep like a log, thank you very much."

Madeline giggled, covering her hand with her mouth. Her laugh was contagious and soon Dmitri was laughing too. He quickly changed the subject though. "So what are you cooking? It smells lovely."

"Take one guess."

Dmitri sniffed the air, trying to decipher the smells. "Pancakes? Bacon and eggs?"

"Bingo."

Dmitri grinned and walked over toward Madeline. He kissed her on her curly blonde head and looked down at all the amazing food being prepared. Madeline felt the kiss, and she looked up and smiled. "Do you want to help me cook? I don't think you've ever helped me cook breakfast before."

Dmitri sighed a little and rubbed the back of his neck. "I would love to, Mad, but I was going to go out into the fields..."

Madeline sighed a little and placed a hand on her hip. "You and your farm," she said. "I almost regret moving to Saskatchewan with you."

Dmitri chuckled, his face turning a bit red. "Well, what can I say? It needs to get done."

Madeline turned around fully and gave Dmitri a sort of stern look. "Dmitri, all the flowers and veggies aren't going to die if you leave them unattended for an hour. The chickens and horses aren't going to starve either."

Dmitri was about to protest, until he closed his eyes and sighed a little. Madeline was right. And besides, he would love to help her cook breakfast. Usually, their meals were pretty evenly split—Madeline always cooked breakfast while Dmitri always cooked dinner. They typically each made themselves lunch since they were always busy during that time of the day, with Dmitri working the fields and Madeline going off to her job. But, that didn't mean a change of pace wouldn't be very nice. "Ah, you're right. Sure, I'll help you cook."

Madeline grew a very wide smile and she clapped a little. "Yay!" She immediately handed him a bowl full of pancake batter. "You can start by putting some pancakes in the pan."

Dmitri hesitated just a little. Pancakes were Madeline's food. He didn't want to screw them up. He decided to try anyway. He leaned over the pan—which already had melting butter laying across the top—and poured the batter in. He ended up pouring way too much and ended up making a pancake that was so huge it nearly touched the sides of the pan.

Soon, Madeline saw this and she gasped. "Dmitri!" she scolded. "Look how big that pancake is! It's going to be impossible to flip now."

Dmitri chuckled nervously. "Sorry."

Madeline huffed, a bit jokingly, before she went back to cooking her own food. Dmitri awkwardly waited for the bubbles to form over the top of the pancake, indicating it was time to flip them. Madeline was right, though—it was going to be quite hard to flip. Especially since the pancake seemed to be growing minute by minute, so much so that it was almost overflowing the sides now.

He turned over toward his girlfriend to get his mind off of it. "How are those bacon and eggs coming along?" he asked curiously. He kept thinking about how wonderful it smelled.

Madeline smiled over at him as she poked something in the pan with her spatula. "Pretty good!" she said. "They should be done in a few minutes."

Dmitri nodded and looked back down at his own pan—his eyes widened considerably when he saw tons and tons of bubbles appearing on the top. He needed to flip it quick. He grabbed a spatula to do so, thinking it would be easy, even with the pancake being very heavy—but it wasn't. He found himself struggling to flip the pancake and keep it together at the same time. He eventually had to use both his hands, and even then the pancake crumbled apart as he flipped it. He even splattered a bit of batter on his clothes, and his face, which made him squint.

Madeline noticed this and put her hands on her hips, like a mother scolding a child. "See? I told you that would happen," she said. She couldn't help but chuckle a bit, though. "Not like that pancake was much worth flipping, anyway. That one side is burnt."

Dmitri looked down and sighed. "Yeah, you're right." He figured he might as well trash it, so he did so and started again, pouring some butter and the rest of the batter into the pan.

"Hey—hey!" he said happily to Madeline. This time, he'd finally poured practically the perfect amount of pancake batter, creating a satisfying circular shape.

"Good job, honey," she told him, giving him a kiss on the cheek. She'd finished cooking the bacon and eggs and was now moving on to make her own batch of deliciously fluffy pancakes.

Dmitri watched her as she flipped the pancake using not a spatula, but just by the force of grabbing onto the handle. He was scared for a minute the pancake might fall to the floor, but Madeline's flipping was effortless and perfect. She wiggled the pancake around in the pan a bit before setting it back on the stove to cook some more.

Dmitri decided he wanted to try to do that, too—the spatula was kind of too small for his large hands anyway. So, grabbing onto the pan handle, he slowly took it off the stove. "Watch me, Mad," he said to her, a bit like an excited child. He lifted the pan up and tried to flip it as she did; however, he got a little too giddy with it and had thrown it up too high (in addition to being unskilled in the first place), causing the pancake to splatter onto the floor, creating a mess everywhere.

Dmitri gasped, covering a hand over his mouth; however, Madeline (instead of getting angry like Dmitri had thought she would) bursted out laughing, leaning onto the kitchen counter for support.

Madeline's laughter was quite contagious and Dmitri found himself joining in. She eventually had to lean on him for support as they both laughed like loons, and Dmitri's legs grew so weak he tumbled to the floor laughing, sending Madeline down with him. The two continued to howl even after they were both pressed against the cold, hard, tiled floor.

"Oh—oh my gosh," Madeline finally choked out after a few minutes, wiping a tear from her eye. She swallowed loudly and looked over at the pancake on the floor. "That was so funny."

Dmitri began to sit up as well, his cheeks hurting from all the laughing. The pancake had gotten batter everywhere—the floor, of course, but it'd also reached some of the cabinets as well. It was a mess, to say the least. He sighed. "Okay. Well, I'll clean this up," he said. He started to get up.

"I'll help you," Madeline offered.

Dmitri shook his head. "No—it's my mess, honey."

Madeline chuckled. "Ah, c'mon," she said simply, standing up fully and getting some paper towels from the counter.

Dmitri smiled widely. He loved his girlfriend so much. He leaned over and gave her a kiss on the lips. "Thank you, sweetheart."

Madeline blushed and let out a low, rumbling chuckle.

The two eventually cleaned up the pancake mess together. It didn't take too long, and soon the two had washed their hands and were preparing to cook again. Dmitri was hesitant to start flipping pancakes again. "Madeline?" he began, a bit shyly. "You're done with the bacon and eggs, right?"

"Mhm," she confirmed.

Dmitri tucked a piece of hair behind his ear a bit nervously. "Can you...help me cook some pancakes? I don't want to screw it up again."

Madeline flashed him a small smile. "Sure."

Soon, she was leaning behind him with her hands intertwined with his as he held onto the spatula. She was slowly and gently guiding him, making sure he flipped it correctly and everything else. Dmitri was blushing lightly the whole entire time, a bit embarrassed that he needed help making a simple pancake—but at the same time, Madeline had a sort of magic touch when it came to making these types of things, which made him a bit happy that she was helping.

After that, Dmitri had successfully cooked a whole stack of pancakes with Madeline's assistance. "I'll go set the table!" the Ukrainian man offered cheerily as Madeline went to prepare some plates.

Dmitri went to go do just that and decided the least he could do to help contribute to the food portion just a bit more was pour some orange juice, so he did that as well. Soon, Madeline slid him his plate of beautifully scented bacon, eggs, and pancakes. Dmitri, who hadn't realized how hungry he was until then, took a big bite. It was absolutely delicious, as always, and he didn't hesitate to let Madeline know. "Thank you," she replied, grinning at him ear to ear from across the table. "Thank you for helping me cook, too."

Dmitri swallowed a bite of eggs and chuckled nervously. "Yeah...sorry I kind of screwed it up." He looked down at his plate, and the more he thought about it, the sadder he got. Madeline did so much for him, and the very least he could've done was cook her a successful breakfast, for crying out loud. "I'm sorry," he said again, this time his voice heavier, more genuine.

Realizing Dmitri was starting to get really upset, Madeline furrowed her brows and softened her voice. "Dmitri, it's okay. You tried—that's all I care about."

Dmitri looked up at her and smiled warily—he still felt bad about it, but Madeline did have a point, he supposed. He let out a big breath. "Well," he said, "next time I want to give you a breakfast, I'll just buy Timmies, eh?"

Madeline chuckled. "Works for me."

Dmitri let out a chuckle as well. Even as Madeline went back to eating, he continued to stare at her lovingly. Words couldn't even begin to explain how much he adored her—everything about her. He hoped with all his heart he could continue to make her happy, every single day, for the rest of their lives.

---

A/N: Eh...this story sounded cuter in my head, I suppose XD Hope everyone reading this enjoyed though!!

[liebegott]

Unfortunate. | Ronald Speirs

as requested by @wexhappyxfew​

(click here to read on wattpad)

feel free to send me a request!

pairing: speirs x reader

wc: 1.7k

synopsis: you have pneumonia and ron takes care of you

a/n: shannon requested soft!speirs, which is one of my fav concepts. instead of lipton getting pneumonia, it’s y/n. i hope that’s alright with you! and thank you for reading. 💓

i mean no disrespect to the real ronald speirs. this is all purely based on matthew settle’s portrayal of him in band of brothers.

tagging: @floydtab​ @alienoresimagines​ @order-of-river-phoenix​ @julianneday1701​ @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant​ @wexhappyxfew​ @rarmiitage​ @mavysnavy​

***

You had two problems: you had pneumonia and your captain was being insufferable about it. Laying on a couch in the company CP, you gripped the ends of the blanket that covered your shivering frame. Luz handed you a warm cup of coffee and put a gentle hand on your forehead. "How are you feelin'?" he asked, a toothpick between his teeth. The men were extra kind to you, the only woman in the paratroopers, today. Most of the time, all they did was tease you.

Puffing out your cheeks, you shuddered for the thousandth time today. "Terrible, thank you," you mumbled a reply.

"That's unfortunate," you heard a voice say behind you, and you looked up to see Captain Speirs, a cup of coffee in hand. He placed his cup on the table beside you, arranged the sheets over you and sat on the couch, a look of concern plastered all over his face.

"Captain Speirs, sir," you looked up and saw Webster. He had disappeared before Bastogne, hit in the leg by machine gun artillery. You almost didn't recognise him, but you were sure you didn't recognise the man beside him. "This is Lieutenant Jones.”

At the sound of his voice, Speirs quickly stood, and pretended he wasn't just worrying about you. "Listen, Y/L/N, will you go back in the back and sack out? There are beds there with fresh sheets," he commanded with his usual captain voice he put on in front of the men.

"I will, sir," you replied, your voice hoarse, and Luz helped you up to move you to the back.

You stumbled across the room, your eyelids heavy. You heard Luz let out a laugh, and felt him put an arm around you to help support you. "God," he mumbled, "Speirs can be real soft sometimes, huh?”

"What are you talking about, George?" you responded, looking at him incredulously as he placed you down on a wonky bed. The springs of the mattress were jutting out in some areas, but you managed to settle yourself as comfortably as possible.

He looked down at your shaking form and picked up a fresh sheet, draping it over you. "Well, y'know? It's in the way he looks at you.”

There's a way he looks at me? You asked yourself, your cheeks reddening. "You've got it wrong, Luz," you brushed it off, thanking him quietly for helping take care of you, "He treats me the same way he treats all the men in his company.”

"If you say so, Y/N.”

***

You woke up with a start, a shiver running down your spine. It was dark outside, and you could see the moon from where you were lying down. You felt pain travel through your body and grimaced, sighing when it finally passed. Gently, you sat up, the sheets that were once around you pooled around your small frame.

You stood slowly, placing your feet on the ground as quietly as you could and wobbling out of the room you were in. You cursed at how cold it was, and you turned to pick up your sheets once more, wrapping it around yourself that you looked like a caterpillar, scooting around on your feet. Your socks were slippery, and each step you made made you feel much colder than you were previously.

Pushing open the door gently, you peeked your head out, and you were greeted by none other than Captain Speirs. He was seated on the couch, his back to you, lost in thought. Being as quiet as possible, you opened the door wider, but he always had good ears and turned to you right away.

"Oh, Y/N," he mumbled, turning back around to stare at nothing in particular, "You scared me." He said it so plainly, and you knew it was because nothing scared him. "I was just thinking," Ronald whispered.

"About what, Captain? If you don't mind me asking." you answered, scooting towards the end of the couch and plopping yourself beside him, leaving a lot of space between the two of you, "I was just gonna go look for food." You lifted your legs, wrapping your arms around your knees.

Ronald abruptly stood, and walked towards the kitchen that stored all the food the company had. He opened up one of the cabinets and turned to you. "What are you hungry for?" he asked, and only now did you realise how different he looked in the dark, lit only by the fire place across the room.

Tired was the first word that came to mind when you saw him, dark circles around his eyes, a sullen look on his face. At first, you couldn't respond, the sadness of whatever he was feeling radiating towards you. You suddenly no longer felt cold.

"Peaches," you whispered when you realised you were staring at him, "Actually anything is fine.”

He grabbed a can of peaches from the highest shelf, took out a knife from his pocket and stabbed a hole in the corner. Ronald then opened up the can for you, and grabbed a spoon from the sink. "Don't worry," he said, handing you the food, "I washed the spoon.”

You mumbled a quiet thanks and took a spoonful of peaches, feeling a lot better. "What were you thinking about, Captain?" you asked again, chewing on the fruit, "Is something wrong?”

Ronald stared at the flickering fireplace, the flames dancing beneath the red brick. His jaw hardened, and he shook his head. "Nothing," was all he replied, turning to face you, "Just worried about you.”

That took you off guard. "I'm fine, Captain," you interjected, nearly choking on your peaches. He quickly put a hand on your back, patting you gently to help the food down.

"You don't look fine," he said, his eyes furrowed, "Eat slower, Y/N." Your arms flopped to your side as your captain, the man nearly every man in Easy feared, the man you were sure all the men respected, took the can gently from your hands and used the spoon to cut the peaches into smaller bites.

You watched him, bewildered, as he handed it back to you and stood to get you some water. He circled the room, looking for his canteen, and upon spotting it, sat back down beside you and put it on the small table beside you. You ate in silence as Ronald watched you, a frown plastered on his face.

"I swear, I'm fine, sir," you said again, though your head hurt like crazy and each breath you took was laboured.

He placed a gentle hand on your forehead and exhaled a sigh. "You're warming up again, hold on," he stood, getting another sheet to wrap around you. He wrapped you so tightly, and grabbed the can of peaches from you. "Lay down," he said, his voice no longer commanding but gentle.

You rested your back on the couch, and he pulled your legs over his lap, making sure you were comfortable. Ronald took a spoonful of peaches, and fed them to you quietly. "I really wish you'd call me Ron when we're alone," he whispered, not looking at you, "This sir business is getting old.”

"That's unfortunate," you smiled, copying his response from that afternoon. You swallowed hard, shutting your eyes briefly. "It's kinda fun pretending we aren't a lot closer than everyone thinks.”

At that, Ronald shook his head, "Tsk, it's only fun for you because I get all nervous the men might notice." You let out a laugh, but coughed right after, your chest hurting. Ronald's face changed quickly, and he leaned down to give you some water.

Taking a sip, you closed your eyes, the cool water travelling down your throat. Upon opening them, Ronald was staring at you, his eyes filled with something you couldn't place a finger on— Sadness, admiration? You had no clue.

"I just wished everyone could know," he said, his voice quiet. You scooted back up, pulling your legs off of him and tilted your head questioningly, "If I told you something I've been too worried to tell you for so long, would you hate me?”

It was such a childish question to ask, but then you realised he was just 24. Because despite everything war had done to you, you were all still so young. You had heard the stories of how he had killed those soldiers, but no one ever said a word against it, and he never disputed it.

You placed a gentle hand on his cheek and shook your head, "I would never hate you, Ron. No matter what you've done.”

He frowned, and shook his head as well, quicker, and you dropped your hand. "No, this isn't about the prisoners," he frowned, "It's something else, something that could change us.”

"What is it, Ron?" you asked gently, scooting towards him, hugging the blankets over your shoulders. You saw him struggle with himself, running a hand over his face.

"I'm in love with you, Y/N," Ronald said, "And I'm worried about your health, about the entire company finding out, and about if you don't feel the same way.”

You were quiet for a few moments, taking in his words. Looking up at him, he looked like the 24 year old he really was, not some brave captain who had run through enemy lines time and time again— In short, he was afraid. Your face broke out into a smile.

"Well, that's unfortunate," you said again, the words bouncing off the two of you, "Because I might just be able to get rid of one worry of yours.”

And with that, you closed the space between you, wrapped your arms tightly around the man who softened around you, and kissed him like your life depended on it.