Tʀᴜsᴛ Mᴇ, I ᴋɴᴏᴡ [Rᴏɴᴀʟᴅ Sᴘᴇɪʀs x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]
Pairing: Ronald Speirs x female reader
Genre: FLUFF but make it slowburn-ish pining fluff
Warning: normal hbo war stuff, graphic mentions of needles and sowing up a wound, brief mention of attempted assault, and graphic depictions of someone getting the shittt beaten out of them...i can’t think of anything else
Prompt: requested by @seamsmilex
“I have always liked the concept of pining Speirs not knowing what to do with his feelings. He's there in the corner of the room giving FemReader this weird stare.”
Just wanna thank Poe (@latibvles) for giving me a hand with some of the plot points and also for listening to me complain about my writers block, love yah long time brah xxx
The adrenaline pumped through her veins as the plane rattled obnoxiously loud, her fingers tightening on her rifle when the enemy assault continued on their airborne position. Her eyes were stuck on the same position on the metal flooring of the flying machine, trying her best to numb the fear and anxiety that clawed at the pit of her stomach like a raging monster. She inhaled deeply, allowing her lungs to grasp at as much fresh air as she could before letting her shoulders drop with an exhale, her eyes slowly moving up. Her gaze clashed with Meehan’s, who was sitting directly in front of her, a strained but encouraging smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. She returned it, simultaneously taking note of the way his knuckles were white from gripping at his own rifle like it was his lifeline. She almost snorted at her own thought because that was about to be all too true; that Thompson in his hands will indeed be the man’s lifeline, his saving grace, as much as the M1 Garand on her lap will be hers as soon as they reach the ground; if they reached the ground.
The woman’s eyes moved away from the man after a particularly harsh bump threw them all to the side, a close call that sent the pilots into a flurry as the jump light flickered on. Meehan yelled for checks to begin once everyone was clipped in, the distance screams of numbers and ‘okay’ drowning out with the ongoing assault of artillery fire. Y/N let out another deep breath as she felt the hands of the trooper behind her sweep down her equipment before smacking her on the back in confirmation, her eyes set on Meehan once again. He nodded at her to step towards the open door, hands set on her shoulders to offer comfort as they all waited with baited breaths for the jump light to flash green.
The view outside was quite a sight, and if she hadn’t have been in a life threatening position at that second, she might have been able to comfortably enjoy the explosive mirage as if it was the fourth of July. Her fingers saw no relief as she exchanged the harsh grip on her rifle for the tense grasp on the safety rails beside the doorway, her nails digging in to the calloused tips of her thumbs as they meet full circle. The twisting of her stomach as unease resisted against her fighting calm was reaching the point of being nauseating, yet as she went to turn back to look away from the reds and oranges of the exploding artillery to glance at Meehan, she wasn’t given any more time to think about it.
The plane jolted harshly to one side, and Y/N counted herself lucky to be holding so tightly to the doorway as those men not holding on enough to their jump line were thrown aggressively across the cabin. Her head snapped to Meehan as he let out yell of encouragement to his men before he patted her on the back, her eyes observing the inner fear the man refused to show while his pupils bore into hers. A shout of angst came from the cockpit, which was quickly followed by another jolt, one which came harder and sharper than the last as the woman felt a hot flush of air rush at her from the front of the plane. Her breath lodged itself in her throat, and as if some invisible barrier had been shoved against her side, her body was thrown forward, her fingers slipping off the side of the doorway. Her gaze met Meehan’s as a yelp left her lips, the hopelessness settling in both pairs of eyes, and things seemed to move in slow motion as she watched him leap towards her in an attempt to stop her from losing her to this foreign territory. It had been no use though, and she had found her luck had run out as she began to plummet to the ground. It was as her shoot deployed that she had seen it, though she didn’t see the hit meet its mark, she certainly saw it ignite as the plane she had been standing in second beforehand went up in an explosive blaze.
Debris shot in every direction, accompanied closely by a shockwave, the metal splitting apart from itself as it splinted and melted before gravity grasped at it, bringing it to the ground. A cry of shock left her lips as a heated piece of the plane met the skin of her stomach, tearing through her uniform and grating at her flesh. She gritted her teeth together, tensing her jaw to take the focus off the pain, trying to make it to the ground before she let worry set in. The ground came at her quick, her newly opened wound spiking with burning pain as she pushed her body into a forward roll before letting herself starfish across the grass, her eyes set on the skies above her. The woman lay there for a moment, the great display of firepower going off around her while laboured breathing left her dried lips, hot tears welling up in her eyes. Her fists clenched at her side before moving to unstrap herself from her shoot, her body sitting upright as her cheeks quivered, the tears streamed silently down her face. Her stomach churned while she forced herself to pull her eyes away from the explosive crimson hue above her, yet she found no relief as Meehan’s face flashed in her mind, cheeks painted the same colour as the fire that consumed him and the rest of her plane.
The woman threw her shoot down, noting that the rope half of her kit was tied to had snapped on her decent, a fact that made the frustration well up in her eyes once again. She held back a sniff as she wiped her face quickly with her sleeve, trying to do much the same with her thoughts while taking deep breaths. She shook her head as if it would rid her of the unprocessed grief that lurched at her, succeeding in gaining her wits back for the time being. The movement of her chest caused a stretch in her skin, and an aching burn reminded her of the wound she’d taken to the stomach. Her hands moved her uniform aside after tugging an emergency bandage from her front pocket, the lack of light or clean hands leading her to wrap it as well as she could for now. She gritted her teeth to hold back a groan while she tightened the fabric around the wound, taking a second to let the burn subside before she moved to a crouched standing position. Her quads ached already as she took tentative steps forward into a line of trees just off to her right, searching for concealment to shield herself from enemy eyes while she figured out where the hell she was.
Not a moment after she’d settled her back against a nearby tree, a familiar click was heard. Her eyes squint as she stared into the foliage in the noise’s general direction, though panic settled in for a moment as she failed to find her own clicker. The woman resorted to placing her hands on her rifle, readying it to fire as she whispered out a ‘flash’. A shadowy figure rose from behind the dense bush approximately 15 metres from her current position, taking quiet steps towards her as a response of ‘thunder’ reached her ears. His face, though shrouded by cam paint, was easily identifiable as he got closer, a sigh of relief leaving Y/N lips when he stopped, dropping to the ground directly in front of her.
“Lieutenant Speirs, it’s good to see you sir.”
***
The night had been long and tiring, and even worse is the silence that hung over the two soldiers, one which was only broken by the occasional gunfire in the distance and, when it came round, the navy artillery. Y/N had been doing well at keeping ahold of her emotions outwardly, her face mirroring Speirs’ in stoic expression, though the survivor’s guilt was eating her alive from the inside. The woman didn’t want to show any vulnerability, especially not to the notoriously aloof man that Ronald Speirs was known to be, hence why she kept her breathing as steady as possible and her eyes as dry as she could. Yet, the lack of noise created a prison for the woman and her grief, caging her into her own mind as she was forced to remember the look on Meehan’s face as he watched her fall as well as the burnt orange colour of the explosion that took him. Speirs noticed the way her breathing was in a constant state of change between even and erratic, confusion taking over his mind as he continued to glance at her out of the corner of his eye in intrigue. It took him a while but the man finally came to understand that she was trying her best to calm herself, especially after they had the passed the fiery wreck of a plane that could have been her own. Neither of them lingered at the scene, though her eyes did as they walked away, the flames that still flickered reflecting in her eyes as Speirs stared at them and if he hadn’t have worked so hard to remain indifferent to the woman, and any other for that matter, he might have allowed himself to notice the way his heart clenched for her obvious pain. Her eyes shifted to the officer for but a moment, and she caught the way he tilted his head in curiosity before signalling for her to keep moving with a flick of his chin.
The sun was on the rise when the lieutenant spoke his first words to her, his eyes having been lingering on the drying blood on her uniform, as well as the exposed flesh through the rip in the fabric. “You’re hurt.” His voice almost made her jump, the hairs on the back of her neck standing at the sudden noise leaving his lips. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes as they continued to walk, her gaze lingering on him for a moment before looking away as his moved up to meet hers. The woman took to gazing back out ahead of them, taking note of the sign coming into view, relief washing over her as she read over it, realising they’d made it to their meeting point. The woman nodded her head in response but said nothing else as she felt his eyes on her face, an action she could confirm as she witnessed him looking in her peripherals, curiosity crossing her mind at this fact. His eyes were drawn away from observing her when the soil beneath their feet turned to mud, creating a harder path to walk, one that required less distraction as he realised she had strangely become since they crossed paths all those hours ago. They passed a group of German POWs who were being watched by a couple of Fox Company soldiers, the fellow Americans greeting the two with a cheerful chirp as they directed them towards battalion.
The odd pairing were leaving said building after relaying the verbal reports they needed to when a yell of her name sounded, causing both heads to snap towards a figure coming towards them. Speirs watched a grin pull to her lips immediately as she moved to meet this man halfway, and he realised this was the first time he’d seen her smile. He almost went to leave when she paused, turning back to him, that cheeky beam still covering her face.
“Lieutenant Speirs, sir?” She called to him, causing him to raise his eyebrows in anticipation of her next words.
“Yes Sergeant L/N?”
“Thank you sir. It was nice to have a little company on my trek across France.” The woman spoke with such a playful tone, one he didn’t think he’d ever taken the time to listen to before. The man cringed as he held himself back from smiling at her, opting to nod his head in confirmation, an action he was becoming known for when it came to talking to her. Y/N turned just as Joe Toye threw his arms out to grab her by the waist, hauling her to his body and off the ground, causing her to shriek in surprise. The Easy Company soldier spun her around towards the rest of the men, giving Y/N one last glimpse at Speirs’ dark eyes before he looked away, though her gaze lingered on his figure as he began to wander off somewhere else. What an interesting guy. The thought came to her for only a second before her attention was brought back to the twelve men who had made it already, all of whom wanted a hug from their favourite girl.
***
Y/N let a scowl spread to her face in frustration as she saw those twelve Easy Company men march off to begin their first planned assault of their war, an assault which she was not allowed to partake in. She had been ordered to stay back after her D-Day companion had let slip that she had been wounded during her jump, leading her new CO to make Speirs her ranking babysitter with a mutter of ‘she doesn’t get to do anything until she gets that wound sown up’ into the Dog Company officer’s ear. Speirs, like the good little dog he was being, nodded his head with a reply of ‘you got it’ at the red headed officer, leading to a newly settling annoyance to find its way into the woman’s mind, the sneer being set alit on her face as she turned to him with disbelief lingering in her eyes. Winters had walked off to prepare the men by the time Speirs let his eyes flicker to her, his gaze quickly moving to her wound that seemed to have bled through the bandage when she squinted at him in vexation.
The woman knew she would be pushing her luck getting such a minor flesh wound patched up with the single field medic they had at the present time, an idea that bothered her profoundly. Yes, it had been painful, and yes, it was bleeding a little, but it was nothing in comparison to several other wounds of the men who had been brought in, one even looking close to losing his arm after it had been tangled in his jump rope. The cogs began to turn in her mind as she caught a glimpse of a medical pack that sat out with several surprisingly unused surgical needles sitting in plain sight. A small smirk played at the corners of her lips when she glanced back at Speirs, who had been watching the metaphorical lightbulb go off above her head with a look of scepticism.
The uniform jacket she wore that was now covered in dirt, sweat and blood was ripped from her body as her hands grabbed at it aggressively, her taunting eyes never leaving the Dog Company officer as he struggled to look away, his curiosity getting the better of him. If he had been told to keep her from going anywhere until she was stitched up, she would see it done. Her eyes had landed on a few men in the corner who had been trying their best to hide the bottle of hard liquor they had found not long after she had first walked into the barn, observing their lack of stealth as Winters explained his plan to the men. Her eyes turned back to those men again, though this time she sought them out, grabbing the alcohol from its hiding spot before using her teeth to open it. The men protested as she spat the lid at them, and proceeded to lift her top to pour it over her wound and hands, gritting her teeth as she did. The woman let out a groan of pain, her eyes squeezing shut as the flesh burned, the skin around it pulsating with an aching pain that made her throw her head back with the bottle following as she took a few strong swigs. Y/N lingered in that spot for a moment, letting the alcohol wrap her in a warm blanket of comfort before she handed it back to the men, all of whom stared at the sergeant with wide eyes.
When Y/N turned to grab the needle and thread, she tugged her undershirt up and into her mouth to both keep it from obstructing her view and using it as a means of distraction, knowing this wasn’t going to feel the most pleasant. She was almost surprised to still see Speirs in the barn, having not moved an inch since she had last seen him, his eyes still very much narrowed in on her. The look on his face told her he knew exactly what she was thinking of doing, yet his expression still held the doubt it had before. Perhaps if he had ever taken notice of her during training, he may have known that Y/N always meant business, and that she would do anything to see things done. Hence, if he had been told to keep her from going anywhere until she was stitched up, she would see it done.
It took her a moment of fumbling to get the thread through the pinhole of the needle, but it gave her a moment to calm herself as she let several deep breaths leave her mouth. The woman silently praised her gem of a mother for having been a nurse her whole life, remembering all those times she had listened intently to her explanations of how to combat certain wounds and treat pain for others. The needle punctured her skin as the eyes of several onlookers turned to her, some going white in the face from the sight of it while other had gone red. Speirs hid his disbelief well, but Y/N saw it in the smallest movement of his widening eyes when she’d thrown her head back to take a moment to rest after the third stitch. She almost let a smirk fall across her lips but she pulled her focus back to her slightly bleeding wound, deciding she just wanted it done as the flesh seemed to pulse with every pump of her heart. Another groan left her mouth after the fifth and final stitch, sweat becoming clear along her hairline as she’d worked so hard to withhold her pained moans. She paused, holding the needle away from her skin, the thread still connected to her as she took a much needed deep exhale before her eyes turned back to Speirs.
“Pass the scissors will you sir?” She muttered to him, trying not to show the tiredness that had seeped from her voice as she gestured at the metal medical instrument. The man stood frozen for but a second, his brows furrowed over his eyes as they trailed over the woman’s face and the wound she had just taken upon herself to sow up. They only left her to find the scissors, but stared straight back at her as soon as he handed them over, not sure how to let the shock of what he just witnessed settle. He wondered how he’d never taken much notice of a woman that had been cut from such a similar type of steel as him, and now that he had, he was certainly taken by her.
The woman was just finishing up with placing a clean bandage around her stitches when a soldier ran in, barking news that Winters and his team of Easy men were in need of ammunition replenishments. Y/N’s eyes met Speirs immediately, a small grin covering her lips as she watched him eye her for a moment. The officer turned his head, nodding to the rifleman in reply before yelling to several of the Dog Company men lounging around him to get on their feet and bring any spare ammo. Her eyes squinted at his form as he walked away from her with such purpose, seemingly forgetting his babysitting duties. Her mouth went to open to throw a snide remark his way, but the sound of his voice cut her off.
“You coming sergeant?” Y/N froze, her expression one of shock before her grin came back twice the size of before. She was clutching at her rifle in a moment, her feet propelling her forward to join the officer at his side, her spare hand ripping a belt of machine gun rounds off the shoulders of a nearby Fox Company soldier as she went.
***
She didn’t really remember when she first saw Ronald Speirs. She also didn’t remember when her eyes started to wander to him anytime he was in her general vicinity. What she does remember is the way his gaze would do the same, and the way it would flicker away from her constantly before ending up back on her. For so long she had put it down to him scrutinizing her, his eyes seemingly squinting at her anytime she was there, though this changed when she realised that he had never once said a word against her, and if anything, had agreed with her any chance he got during meetings and reporting hour.
It had started on D-Day, of course, being the first day he’d given much thought to the female paratrooper. It had followed on from this at any occasion that they were in the same room, an almost constant game of cat and mouse with their eyes, a game that Y/N was more than not considered to be the cat, while Speirs was the mouse. It was quite a sight to notice the usually imperturbable man squirm at the realisation that he’d been caught staring, an action that often came with the rubbing of the back of his neck, the awkwardness of it all getting the better of him. She had noticed this at several points of time, including the time she’d spent a week or two in the bed beside him after the events of Operation Market Garden, in which both of them had been wounded, as well as after the events of Foy when his eyes had trailed over her in a way that lead her to believe he was checking her for injuries.
The woman was known to be observant, and though she was not considered a being of little words, she had upgraded her ability to multitask to an all new level. Conversation often flowed between her and the men she was closest to, and even those that she wasn’t, but it wasn’t uncommon for her eyes to trail away from one’s face while she was talking to them, instead set on scanning the environment around them before politely looking back at said person’s facial features. This was how she was so aware of Speirs’ tendency to let his gaze linger on her, well, that and the quiet taunts that had been thrown her way from Nixon, a person whom was also known for his observation skills. It was passed the point of being able to count on her fingers the amount of times she had caught him staring, and though she would never admit it, she knew that those times had not been unintentional from her side either. Not only that, but the accompaniment of the straightening of his posture as if she was some General he needed to brace up for had made her question exactly what this man’s deal with her had been, though she was certain she had a fair idea.
The day she became fully aware of the reasoning behind her new COs actions was the day they’d arrived in Haguenau. The newly appointed company First Sergeant was slowly finishing up with ensuring the men were settling in at the passing request of Captain Winters when she’d run into her favourite intelligence officer. He grinned at her on his approach, an expression of smugness spreading over his face as if he had just figured out something she hadn’t. She squinted her eyes at him as she stopped in front of him, her arms moving to cross over her chest to warm herself.
“What in the hell are you looking smug about Nix?” She questioned causing the man to shrug casually with a hum leaving his mouth before he replied.
“Nothing in particular Y/N. Say, you haven’t happened to have heard any interesting rumours recently have you?” The dark haired man pushed, his tone mockingly nonchalant while he stared pointedly at her. She sighed, knowing exactly where he was going with the question.
It was no secret that Captain Ronald Speirs was an intimidating and mysterious man, one that caused a lot of the more gossip friendly men to open their mouths to talk about him at any opportunity given, even when most of the garbage they spoke was a lie. While most of those rumours were to do with him ensuing violence with no prior reason to do so, the new one that had slowly begun to circulate was actually an addition to one of the previous one, almost an answer as to why he did something and a warning to those who followed. It had come from the idea of him shooting one of his sergeants for being drunk while on duty, a story she had heard so many times before, yet one that she knew was not the full, nor accurate telling of. She had known the sergeant from Dog Company as he had introduced himself to her, quite aggressively might she add, and then proceeded to bother her frequently any chance he got. The last time she had seen him is the night he’d shown up drunk while she was on patrol and attempted to get a little too handsy with her. It wasn’t long after she’d broken his nose that several other soldiers, including Speirs, had run over to see what all the fuss was about. She was quickly taken off patrol for the remainder of the night and sent to Winters to report to him what had happened, but not before she caught a glimpse of Speirs dragging the man away by the collar, a sour expression painted over his face.
The new addition to the rumour, which Nixon believed to be more fact than fiction, had finally taken into account the circumstances in which Y/N was there, and that Speirs’ reaction wasn’t because the sergeant was drunk, but because he’d tried to harm her. The men who loved to talk had spun such an elaborate new story, one that even she was having a hard time refuting. Even then, the rumour had it perks as the men all saw it as a warning, a new golden rule to avoid being on the wrong end of Ronald Speirs’ pistol, and she was the one that reaped the benefits as anyone who had been previously bothering her stopped immediately after hearing it. Y/N had tried her best to deny the idea, even to herself, yet she couldn’t shake the thought that maybe this was finally not a rumour being passed around about Speirs, and instead that they were actual facts.
“What are you getting at here Nix?” The woman asked the intelligence officer as she finished glaring at him. He shrugged at her again while tucking his hands under his arms to keep them warm.
“I’m just saying, the man doesn’t even try to hide it. His eyes move to you whenever you walk into a room.” He replied matter-of-factly.
“Trust me, I know.” Is all she can manage to whisper as her heart seems to get caught further up her throat with every beat it took. She shook herself from getting lost in her own mind before moving to smack the man on the arm. “However, I also know that you are a shit stirrer, so just cut it out will you. Go mind your own business.” The man just smirked once more, throwing his hands up in the air in mock surrender before his eyes flickered down to her neck and back up at her face, and she watched as they sparked with amusement as he turned to walk away.
Her head was spinning, realising that Nixon had gotten into her head with only a single sentence, while her feet mindlessly led her to the building she’d left Lip in, eager to get her hands on the coffee she’d been told by Luz would be waiting for her when she got back. The cold air bit at the exposed skin of her neck, prompting her to pull the scarf she wore up over her nose and mouth. It was not her own piece of warm kit, for hers had been blown sky high along with the rest of her foxhole in the forests of Bastogne, thankfully when she was not occupying it. No, this piece of fabric was much softer than hers and smelt strongly of which ever man it belonged to before she had found it tucked under her head when she fell asleep in the church after the attack on Foy.
The woman inhaled the scent on the scarf, her muscles loosening as she felt a calm wash over her, a feeling she had become familiar with ever since she first drunk in the smell that lingered so temptingly on the fabric. The door to the building swung open as she pushed at the handle, showing four tired soldiers as well as two fresh faced ones inside the room she entered, the latter both turning their heads to look at her. She paid no mind to them, though her eyes did momentarily widen at the return of Webster, yet she welcomed the break from the brisk breeze that hounded her outside, as well as the somehow still chirpy voice of one George luz.
“Y/N takes a sugar in her coffee, right Lip?” He called, with none of the four tired soldiers, bar the one propped up on the couch, realising she had even entered the room. Lip smiled at her in a strained manner, one she returned as best as she could as she went to open her mouth to answer Luz for him. It came to her surprise when someone else bet her to it, the lack of uncertainty in his voice throwing her off ever-so-slightly.
“Two, actually.” Speirs replied casually, the cigarette still placed between his lips as he went to turn back towards the piano, on which half of his loot was sat. He froze for a moment at Y/N seemingly sudden appearance, yet he composed himself quickly, pulling his shoulders back and straightening his back. His eyes didn’t linger on her long as he twisted back around at the sound of Winters entering through the back door while clearing his throat in quiet embarrassment, his reddened cheeks hidden from her and only noticed by the Intelligence Officer. Nixon tried his best to hold back a smirk as his gaze flickered to the captain and the first sergeant behind him, but Y/N took notice of it and squinted her eyes in silent judgement. She would never say it out loud, but with her awareness of what just happened fresh in her mind, her heart had picked up its pace as it hammered away in her chest, almost distracting her from the patrol plans that Winters was trying to explain.
The woman’s gaze flickered back at the man occasionally, her ears listening out for the red headed captain’s words while her eyes strayed. Her fingers played absentmindedly with the scarf wrapped around her neck as she looked at him, her mind telling her there was something off about his appearance though she could not figure it out. She pulled her gaze away from the man, almost rolling her eyes when she heard the new guy, now obvious to her to be their fresh lieutenant, had stepped forward and asked to lead the patrol. The snide remark she wanted to let out was held on the tip of her tongue when Winters counteracted his request with a solid ‘no’, though she couldn’t do anything about the smirk that slipped onto her face after that.
The first sergeant took a few steps forward when she noticed Luz reaching out to her with her steaming cup of coffee, bringing her to stand beside Speirs, rather than behind him. She felt his eyes immediately as she took tentative sips of the hot drink, the warmth that trailed through her body doing nothing to cure the goosebumps and frigid hairs that spread over and stood tall on her skin from his gaze. The woman contemplated whether she should return his stare before she quickly glanced at him, trying to catch him off guard. The subtle movement of her looking out of the corner of her eyes did not alert the man to the fact he was being watched also, meaning she got a good glimpse of his features softening at the sight of the scarf wrapped around her neck. Her eyebrows furrowed for a moment, her hand reaching up once more to fiddle with the fabric twisted around her while her eyes slowly trailed to the man’s own neck. Her eyes widened as the alarm bells in her mind went off, the image of the officer with a scarf tucked in to his uniform flashing through her head, the one which was now absent from his neck and seemingly wrapped around her own.
It was his. The piece of warm kit she had been using as her personal stress relief was his. Her cheeks immediately went red, her hand that was previously playing with the scarf was now pulling it up over her face to hide her rosy complexion. She looked up at his face once again, only to realise he was staring straight back at her, his expression showing that he was trying to gauge what she was thinking. Her head whipped back towards Winters, only to make eye contact with Nixon, who looked at her with his head cocked to the side mockingly. She refrained from throwing him the middle finger and instead opted to scrunch her nose up at him, her eyes showing her displeasure at the man’s nosiness as well as her own thoughts. Perhaps the intelligence officer was getting at something after all, not that she would ever admit that.
***
The air in the room held a tension that Y/N couldn’t quite explain, and between Tab’s grinding teeth and Luz’s sorry excuses for calming jokes, she was struggling to hold it together. Her chest held a flurry like her ribs were a cage withholding her fragile heart while it stammered away; thump, thump, thump. It hammered in her ear, the sound of anxiety, and fear, and anger but also guilt. It was her that the barrel of the pistol was pointed at. And yes, she’d been on the other end of a rifle on many occasions, remembered the metallic taste that invaded her mouth as she bit her cheek to hold back the worrying sigh of relief she wanted to let out. But this was entirely different. It wasn’t another time where she could have been shot down and left for dead with no harm done to those she held dear because this particular instance had put one of her friends directly in danger and it was all for her.
Chuck had moved too quickly in a world that progressed in slow-motion in her eyes and before she had the chance to meet her maker, the crimson of his blood had splattered across her face. She had frozen in place, aware that the man who pulled the trigger was already off in one of the vehicles, screaming down the road as she lowered herself to the ground. Chuck didn’t move when she nudged him, and a smothered cry came from her trembling lips as she watched the sticky, red liquid leak from the gaping hole in his skull.
Y/N swallowed the thick feeling that engulfed her throat, the lump growing larger by the second as she recalled the night she’d had in vivid colour. Her ears tuned in to the noises through the door just as Tab had been doing, her fingers crinkling the cards she held in her hand so tightly that they bent on odd angles. She felt it then, surrounding her fast beating heart, like a blue flamed fire burning it’s way through her bloodstream and she was scared to say she knew exactly what she wanted to do with the emotion she felt. Luz glanced at her after he’d played his turn, ready to tell her to go before he took in the colour rushing to her face. Her cheeks tinted a darkening red as she exhaled loudly through her nose while listening to the sound of someones knuckled coming in contact with bare skin. The feeling threaded it’s way through her limbs again as she stood suddenly, throwing the card down harshly on the table, causing a few to flutter to the floor as they swept across the surface.
“Y/N, I think it’s best if you stay here where we know you’re safe. Don’t go wandering around outside by yourself in this state.” George piped up, concern covering his features as his eyes followed her every movement. She kicked her chair out from underneath her harshly before turning to look at him, a fire burning in her eyes like he’d never seen before.
“I’m not going outside George.” She spoke in a low and indelible voice, her knuckles cracking as her finger clenched as fists at her sides. His eyes widened in shock while she took several long strides to the door the rest of the men stood behind, yet he made no move to stop her. She threw the door open aggressively, pausing the movement of everybody in the room as she closed it behind her with the same rage. It coursed through her veins, tainting every decision and thought that popped up in her brain to a vengeful red.
The men took note of the woman who usually held such a gentle smile and softened edges, yet in that moment her forearms looked like they were cut from marble with the tension in her muscles while her eyes were dark and haunting as they refused to look away from the man she had come to seek out. Her gaze trailed over the blood leaking from his face as Liebgott took a step away from him, the same red dripping from his tightened knuckles. Those around her parted like the Red Sea as she made her way towards him, stopping almost directly in front of him, her eyes turned down on him menacingly. The few steps she had taken forward were assertive, shoulders pulled back and head held back to look down her nose, a stark contrast of the usually floating, wistful steps she took on the daily basis. This woman, however, was not the same as she was on the regular. This was a person made up of white hot metal, the burning heat of the sun and plagued with every bad memory she could find in her head, and all of it, all of it, was being made his fault.
“Remember me?” Y/N questioned as she watched him raise his head from lulling down, his eyes meeting hers. He tried to manage a teasing smirk but couldn’t stop the groan that left his lips as his cheeks stretched. A snort left her nose at his pitiful attempt at provoking her, in fact, she was already provoked enough by him, he wouldn’t need to try any further. “How pathetic you are.” She said in a low voice, leaning down so her face was close to his, her breath fanning across his skin. “You royally fucked up private.” The dirty language that leaked off her tongue like poison made her men look at each other in worry, the use of it from her mouth only meant trouble as they’d come to know.
“Yeah? Cause I tried to shoot you and missed?” He hissed back at her causing those worried eyes of the men to turn to disgust and anger, and even a huffed breath through flared nostrils from Liebgott. “It’s a shame your little friend had to jump in and save the day. Is he dead yet?” Y/N’s closed fist met his jaw as soon as the last words left his lips, his head whipping to the side as his body began to follow, yet Bull, who had been standing closely beside him the whole time, gave him a shove to the shoulder, sending him upright in the chair once more. The man made a whine of pain as his spine straightened and the woman couldn’t stop the smug smirk that pulled at the corners of her lips. She took a few steps back, turning her back to him at the last second as she looked down at the floor, an almost sinister giggle leaving her lips. Her eyes lingered on the mud stained rug, analysing the footprints the men had left as they dragged the sorry excuse of a soldier into the room as well as the few drops of blood that littered it. Her lip twitched even more as she imagined the pitiful fight he would have put up before one of the men would have landed a harsh smack to his jaw to get him to settle down. Yet the longer she stared at the vermillion circles painting the carpet, the more her brain wandered, the brilliant colour flashing with Chuck’s face, the echo of a pistol being shot off and the smell of gunfire.
The woman looked up, her gaze seemingly looking through the wall in front of her with a distant glaze over her eyes, the imminent tears threatening to escape. Her jaw clenched, once again revealing the taunt muscles under her skin as it tightened, the fluttering of her eyelids and furrowing of her brows accompanying the need to withhold her sadness. She swallowed the build up of salvia in her mouth, and with it went every emotion but the anger. Her nostrils flared with the release of an aggravated breath and her top lip twitched one more as she slowly twisted her head to look over her shoulder at the man.
The sight was a terrifying one, her darkened pupils squinted over her arm bringing to life the picture of Lucifer as he was painted by Alexandre Cabanel, with nothing but deep set wrath shimmering under the layer of salted tears. Her body turned to face him once more as her tongue ran over her front teeth, taunting steps leading to her previous position directly in front of the man.
“We feeling brave, aren’t we private?” She said, bending at the hips so her eyes almost levelled with him, yet she still held her gaze down on him as if asserting a silent dominance over him. “You really don’t know what game you’re playing, and if I were you I would quit while you’re ahead. There’s no need for further damage to be done.” The woman continued, her voice dropping to a dark jest. Another pained laugh left the man’s mouth, the sneer she knew all too well pulling over his lips.
“Oh yeah? And who is gonna do that damage? You?” The question made the woman chuckle as the thought lit up in her head.
“You crossed a line private, several even.” She disregarded his words, proceeding with her own threats. “And I expect he isn’t going to be forgiving at all. Especially because you broke the golden rule.” The woman tilted her head in a taunting manner as she stared directly into his eyes. “Do you want to know which rule that is private?” She asked him, straightening her back to stand tall before him, the light behind her creating a shadow over her face. He didn’t answer, only stared up her with a confused look held in his eyes, one which he didn’t let cover his features. Y/N’s face pinched into a sour look of disgust, throwing her fist towards the man once more causing his head to snap to the side as her knuckles met his nose before his chin was grasped harshly within her fingers, pulling his face back towards her. “You will answer me when I am speaking to you private.” She spat. “Now I will ask you again; do you want to know which rule that is?” Her fingers tightened against his jaw, surely leaving white imprints on his skin, his gaze meeting hers with weakened defiance.
“What rule first sergeant?” He managed to get out through exasperated pants.
The woman went to move her lips to speak when the echo of a door being slammed open bounced around the room, sending every head in the room whirling towards the entrance way. Her gaze didn’t stray for long before she looked back at him, an amused smirk on her lips as she watched the confusion finally spread to his face while his eyes flicked from her to the door and back again. A muffled yell was heard as she let her tongue trace along her top teeth like a predator preparing to devour its next meal, the condescending action seen as she held her mouth partially open. She leant down to him once more as the yell sounded again, her lips touching the curve of his ear.
“No one fucks with his girl.” Is all she said before she stepped back, the door flying open as she did, yet her eyes didn’t leave the bloodied face of the man before her until the new presence made himself known beside her. The smell of his cologne mixed with sweat and ammunition washed over her immediately, spreading a newfound scene of comfort and security within her as she inhaled through her nose. She felt his eyes on her yet she didn’t turn her cold leer from the private until she felt his body press uncharacteristically closer to her, a hand laying carefully on her hip. Her head whipped to him instantly, the ice melting from her gaze in seconds as they clashed with the ocean blue eyes she often let herself drown in. His face was hardened and tight, cut from the same marble hers had been, yet his eyes were soft as they ran over her, stopping short on the blood that decorated her knuckles before flickering back to look into her soul, his brows pulled together in silent recognition. Y/N withheld her surprise at the forwardness and lack of awkwardness of his actions, but didn’t take any further time to question it as she found it rather comfortable. His hand left her side, and the woman suddenly felt the ice return to her veins as he turned to glance at the private before looking to Bull.
“This him?” His voice sounded, settling over the woman like a blanket of warmth, even with the bitterness that echoes from behind his teeth. The sergeant nodded, his face holding a similar resentment as he glanced down at the pitiful man.
“That’s him. Replacement, I company.” Is all he was able to mutter before Ron takes a threatening step towards him, purposefully cutting off the man’s view of his woman in an act of protection. The captain held himself with an air of dominance that everyone around him could see, yet as one inspected him closely, his muscles encased a tension that could only be described as concealed rage; a rage that sprouted from the seed that this pathetic private had planted by trying to hurt her. No sound could be heard within the room aside from the panted breaths coming from his mouth as he peered up at the daunting figure of the man above him, the unease in the room settling like a blanket of snow over a field in the winter season, heavy and cold as it smothered the life out of everything.
“Where’s the weapon?” Speirs asked, his voice sharp and pointed as if he wielded a knife rather than words. The soldier looked up at him with widened eyes as he choked on the blood that trickled down his throat from the broken nose Y/N had given him before letting out a brave taunt of a reply. The captain’s lip twitched before he brought his pistol down and slammed it against the man’s cheek, a splatter of crimson sprouting from his mouth as his head whipped to the side once again.
The woman moved her gaze to her bloodied hands from where it had been trailing over the back of Ron’s head as she took a step back, her anger diminishing as it sucked the energy out of her, leaving her with nothing but grief and anguish. Liebgott noticed the way she almost backed into him with her mind drifting quickly from the situation before them, causing him to reach out to grab her around the waist. She stumbled into him, her glossy eyes flickering to him for a moment to give him a silent ‘thank you’ as she leant her weight on him before glancing back at Speirs as he spat his next words.
“When you talk to an officer you say sir.” The sentence exerted only some of the rage kept within the man yet as he cocked his pistol and held it to the private’s head, he was ready to express it all. The room watched on with hesitation, but none of the men stepped forward to stop it, some even going as far to turn their heads away from the scene before them. Y/N looked on, gaze flickering between the man she loved and the man she despised, and for a moment she too hesitated, but the feeling of pain hung over her like a black cloud and she didn’t believe she would be able to take any more, even if it was from someone she couldn’t care less about. The woman stepped forward out of Liebgott’s grasp, one hand raising to rest on Ron’s shoulder causing him to glance down at her out of the corner of his eye after withholding a full body flinch. He watched as her other hand came to fall on the hand that held the pistol, before his gaze moved back to her, his eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion. He almost wanted to ask why she would want him to not pull the trigger after everything he had done, but as his eyes stared into her, he noticed the way hers held a gloss of pain, one that was threatening to spill at any moment.
The man let a deep breath escape through his nose as he lowered his sidearm before glancing away from Y/N to look back at the private. Speirs took note of the way he watched her with squinted eyes, yet fear spread through them as he turned his gaze to the officer who had threatened his life just moments ago as the man sneered down at him.
“I should shoot your sorry ass for even looking at her. If it wasn’t for her, I would have put a bullet between your eyes.” Ron hissed as he leaned over to wipe his hand clean of the private’s blood onto his own uniform. The man goes to pull away only to stop, halting his movements to flash one last sneer at the replacement. The officer stepped back, making sure he grasped at Y/N’s jacket to take her with him, keeping her behind him protectively. The private’s gaze lingered for a moment between the two before it lowered to the floor, the inability to put up a fight finally coming to him. Ron kept his face stoic and unmoving before he glanced over at the men standing beside him.
“Have the MP’s take care of this piece of shit.” He uttered casually before he turned on his feet and headed to the door. This, however, was not before glancing at Y/N as a silent note of ‘you’re coming with me’ that he showed with the flick of his head. He let go of the woman’s jacket, exchanging it for the small of her back so he could push her from the room, causing her to withhold a shiver at the seemingly constant physical touch he was offering.
“Grant, he’s dead?” Floyd asked in a flurry as Speirs tried to whisk the woman out of the room as quickly as he could. He paused at his words, letting out a breath of relief at the answer before turning his head back to the men, his hand now clutched absentmindedly on Y/N’s hip, keeping her tucked into his side, an action she was greatly enjoying.
“Nope. Kraut surgeon said he’s gonna make it.” Tears of relief sprung up in her eyes as the words tumbled from his mouth so calmly, her own breath of relief fluttering from her mouth audibly. Ron’s hand gave her side a squeeze when it sounded, a gesture of shared happiness flowing between them as he glanced at her looking up at him with a hopeful expression. The right side of his mouth tilted up in a tiny grin, one she was sure she’d never witnessed, before he used his hand to move her out of the room, this time with no interruptions.
A scuffle of movement could be heard behind her, but she was too busy trying to keep her emotions from eating her alive to care. The woman couldn’t help but let a tired smile crawl to her lips as they left the suffocating confinements of the room, wandering to the next house over in which her, being Easy Company First Sergeant, and the officers were staying. Another loud sigh left her lips as the silence in the house set her at ease, and even more so with the officer behind her still following closely, his eyes watching her intently.
The woman quickly made her way to the kitchen as soon as the front door had closed, her hands ripping at her bloodstained uniform until she stood in her slightly cleaner undershirt. The lack of noise in the room, though setting her nerves at ease, did nothing to calm her swirling brain as several emotions hit her again in full force. They were fighting for the reigns, the positive and negative feelings trying so hard to unseat the other and causing havoc as they went. She felt such joy and happiness with the news of Grant being okay, while the anger still bubbled deep down in her stomach, the disgust of her own actions following not far behind.
Her feet stumbled as she made it to the sink, throwing her over-shirt to the floor before fidgeting furiously with the tap to turn it on. Water sprung from it moments later, splashing along the edges of the sink and dampening parts of her uniform, yet she couldn’t care less as she reached for the soap, scrubbing aggressively at the crimson stains on her skin. Ron trailed behind her slowly, coming to a halt in the doorway, his eyes never leaving her figure as he watched her grow more and more impatient with her hands’ lack of cleanliness. Her fingers grew tired as she gripped the soap in a tightened fist, and when it almost slipped from her grasp she finished the job by throwing the bar harshly into the basin, an aggravated moan accompanying the action. Her face pinched in annoyance before she glanced up at the window above the sink, an angered woman being the only reflection she could see, adorning a scowl and tightened brows. The longer she stared, the more she became lost in the expressions of a woman she didn’t recognise anymore. This war had taken a gentle soul, chewed her up, and spat her out as a harsh product of conflict, battered and tired, and angry, and lost. And yet, the gleam of light hitting the eye of her reflection showed her more; she was a survivor, stronger with every hit she took to her gut, still prepared to kick, and fight, and scream to protect those she loved. This woman had never felt more weak and yet she had never been more strong; a fact that she was now aware of. What was more beautifully tragic than a person who carried their trauma like a heart on their sleeve?
The tears followed this thought, presenting themselves rather quietly as they flowed down her face with no sign of stopping. They were the heartbroken kind of tears, the ones that would fall down ones cheek without a single change of facial expression, the kind that fell just because they needed some form of release. Speirs was behind her in a moment, though hesitant as he held himself back for a second, unsure as to whether she’d want his comfort or her own space. He decided to opt for rubbing soothing circles onto the woman’s back as a gentle sign of support, though anyone that saw the way he stood so stiff would understand that he wanted to hold her in his arms and tell her that he was there. She froze at his touch, and he almost pulled his hand away, thinking she had been uncomfortable with his actions, something she had become very aware of.
The man was taken aback when a quiet laugh let her mouth, especially when he got a glimpse of her face, which still had several wet streaks of tears coating her cheeks. His eyebrows furrowed as they stared at each other, only the woman being aware of the lack of space between them because he hadn’t stepped back when she turned to face him.
“I always thought you must have something against physical touch. But after tonight, it’s been made very clear that I was wrong about that.” Y/N spoke to him, her mind finally connecting the pieces of the puzzle that hadn’t seemed to fit until now. Ron stared at her in confusion, eyebrows furrowed while he looked down at her.
“What are you talking about?” He asked, his eyes never leaving hers as he refused to look away for once, not when he had an opportunity to look at her in this light.
“I think I get it now, you just needed a little extra push.” She seemed to mutter the words, her gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips, something he took note of immediately. She reached forward to him, one hand grasping gently at his jaw while the other rested on his chest, causing his breath to get lodged in his throat. She gave them both a moment, an opportunity to stare at one another shamelessly for a few seconds before she began to lean towards him. He met her halfway, their lips clashing softly as his hands moved to her hips, pulling her closer to him.
The kiss they shared was far from perfect, and also extremely wet due to the tears that had barely stopped falling from her eyes, yet Ron couldn’t help the smile that pulled to his lips as he held her close to him. She was, in fact, completely right; the intimidating, mysterious Captain Speirs needed a little extra push.
The woman pulled back first, the urge to breathe coming back to her as she inhaled to clear her hazy mind. She let a grin take over her face as she relished in the feeling of his arms secured around her.
“I like it when you smile.” She whispered to him, causing his grin to widen even more, his eyes swimming with awe as he gazed down at her, placing his forehead gently against hers.
“I think I love you Y/N.”
“Trust me Ron, I know.”