Anyone written any Band of Brothers “I’m a hard dude but I’ll be so very gentle for her” kinda of stuff recently? I’m in desperate need of fictional comfort
listen . i cannot stop thinking about Speirs referring to his wife as “my fair lady” because of Fierce Valor and . Anything with soft! Speirs / maybe even post-war sweetness with Ron like I need it and you just write soft!Speirs so well ..
Anywhere You Go (Let Me Go Too)
Ron Speirs x reader
A/N: Lex, the way I am sitting here smiling and blushing 😭🙈 I am so obsessed with the way that you write Speirs, so you saying that I write soft!Speirs well is pretty much the ultimate compliment 💖 Thank you for trusting me to write this, and I hope you like it 💕🕊️ (As usual, this is written for the fictional depiction from the show - no disrespect to the real life veterans!)
Warnings: mentions of war, alcohol, and of blood
Casual is not a word that anyone would use to describe Ronald Speirs. Cold is the more likely word choice of those who have only worked with him, or caught whispers of the rumors that trail behind him. Careful would probably be the most accurate word. Everything that he does is deliberate. If life is a game of checkers, then Ron is playing chess, because he always seems to be at least two steps ahead of everyone else, like he has considered every possibility and is already planning his next move.
But this, you think to yourself as you watch him come into the room, is probably as close to casual as he can get.
And that's because he's a little bit drunk.
Ron had entered the room slowly, and now that the door is shut, he stands facing it, leaning against it with a sigh. Then he turns to you with a smile on his face that makes you wonder how anyone could think that any of the rumors about him could possibly be true. Especially now, when he comes over to the bed and flops down onto his stomach, looking up at you with wide eyes and a goofy grin.
"Good evening," he says with a curt nod. He obviously seems to think that he's being serious, but it makes you laugh.
"To you as well." You scoot over a bit from where you have been sitting to make more room for him, but he seems content to stay where he is - half on the bed, and half off. He hums when you reach out and run a hand through his hair, sinking into the bed and your touch. "I thought you didn't drink?"
He huffs - maybe a laugh, maybe a sigh. "The other officers convinced me to have some. To celebrate."
"Nixon?"
". . . Harry and Lip were drinking, too."
"Ah." You click your tongue. "Peer pressure."
This time there's no mistaking the laugh that bubbles up from deep within his chest. He rolls onto his side so that he can look at you better. Reaching up, he holds out his hand, and you take it, even though you have to stop carding your hands through his hair.
"I made up my mind though."
"Oh? About what?"
"After the war." He squeezes your hand. His brows furrow slightly as he thinks. "It's over now. Everyone keeps talking about what they want to do, where they're going and I -" He cuts himself off.
You squeeze his hand. What?
It's no secret that he's been conflicted. He had been planning to jump into the Pacific with Easy because they needed a leader. But now that the Japanese have surrendered . . . Winters and Nixon are going to New Jersey, Welsh is going to marry Kitty, and Ron . . .
"I don't know yet," you had told him when the news had reached Austria. "I just know that I'm done being a combat medic. Whatever comes after this . . . If I never bandage another wound again, it will be too soon."
"I don't know yet, either," Ron had said, squinting out across the sunny baseball field, watching the men and weighing his options.
Now though, drunk and trying to be sincere, he seems to have made up his mind.
"I just want to go wherever you go," he says.
Blood pumps in your ears as your heart starts to race. Did you hear him correctly? Is this because he's drunk?
Before you can order your thoughts Ron is pushing himself up so that he's sitting across from you. A pink hue has settled across his cheeks, like rosy clouds streaked across the sky at sunset; it might be from the warmth of the alcohol he has consumed, it might be because of the tender moment, or it might be both.
Now your heart is really racing. "What do you mean?" You ask over its roar.
Ron nods. "I mean that if it's what you want, I would like to be with you after the war. Wherever that might take us."
"Of course I want that." Is it even a question? "Do you?"
Ron smiles. In combat, he looks like a figure drawn with sharp edges and filled in with muted colors. But here - he looks so soft, and the colors are so warm and bright. If everyone else could see him like this . . . Ron would never let that happen, though. He has a reputation to uphold. Moments like these, glimpses of a softer man, are just for you.
"Wherever you want to go (Y/N)," Ron repeats. "Your hometown. Boston. Somewhere new. I can get my old job back. We'll have money." It sends a shiver down your spine when he promises, "I'll take care of you."
It's no secret that Ron does well in combat - like he's made for it - and that he enjoys aspects of it and the way that they give him a rush. But he is also a frank man who despises lying and always speaks his mind; he wouldn't be telling you this if he didn't mean it.
You reach out and caress his face. It's warm, and a little bit of stubble pricks your palm. He leans into it. "If you're sure. Then yes; I would go anywhere with you."
He averts his eyes quickly, his face growing warmer under your touch. Yes, you confirm, he's definitely a little drunk.
He reaches into his pocket and removes something, then holds out his hand to you. When you remove your hand from his face and place it on his palm, he slides a glittering bracelet over your wrist. "I thought of you when I saw this."
This whole war you have seen each other covered in blood and grime and uniforms - yet he thought of you when he saw something so beautiful.
"It's gorgeous." You hold your wrist up to the light to admire how it sparkles. "Thank you."
His smile grows wider. "Anything for my fair lady." He flops back down onto the bed, maneuvering himself so that his head is in your lap. He lets out a contented hum when you resume carding your hands through his hair. "So, where should we go first?"
"Well, we've already toured Europe," You note. "Why not just head to the States and see if we can catch a bit of rest before the next adventure?"
He nods, and it sends a thrill through your chest to think that this is real - you are together and this is happening.
"Lets go home," he agrees.
This - being here, with him - already feels like home, but you nod, knowing that home will be anywhere you go with your dashing gentleman.
For @brassknucklespeirs (Happy birthday, lovely!! I hope you like this💖 )
A/N: Me, using a Marianas Trench song for a ficlet? You’re damn right lol 😆
When your tears are spent
On your last pretense
And your tired eyes refuse to close
And sleep in your defense
You didn’t let yourself cry until you were alone, Ron knew that much, so when he saw you disappear into the stillness of the frigid Bastogne night, he knew exactly where you were headed.
The days of ruthless shelling by the Germans had felled several trees in the nearby area, splintering them to bits…all except one, which lay across the snow a good 8-10 feet away from the rows of foxholes, tucked away behind a steep embankment, away from view.
It was the perfect place to seek refuge for a brief second and as the company’s only combat nurse, God, did you need it. Try as he might, Doc Roe couldn’t be everywhere at once and that was where you came in.
From your first day with Easy, you’d made it your mission to get to know every single trooper so that even in the heat of battle, when someone screamed “Medic!”, you could recognize their voice in an instant and get there. You would talk to them as you treated them, about anything they wanted: their families, their hometowns, sports teams, films, whatever they needed to keep them focused and awake. These men were trusting you with their lives and you would not let them down. You were friendly, hardworking, and dedicated to your field and your company; you never let gunfire or explosions hinder you. If you were needed, you were there.
It was your warm and selfless nature that had first caught the eye of the infamous Ronald Speirs. You captivated him. How could someone so generous, so full of life, be here, in a place like this? You were an angel trapped in Hell but it didn't dim your shine, not even for a moment. You would give the shirt off your back to anyone who needed it, always the first to lend a hand and the last to quit at the day's end.
Your vitality and generosity meant that you made friends easily, something that the withdrawn and mysterious Ron so envied. Like a magnet, people just gravitated towards you, happy to bask in your energetic glow, and Ron would watch quietly from the sidelines with a goofy smile on his face like a smitten schoolboy. You were like human sunshine, a balm to his hardened & war-torn soul.
When it's in your spine
Like you've walked for miles
And the only thing you want is just to
Be still for a while
But Bastogne…Bastogne was a whole different beast, even for someone as dynamic and exuberant as you. The conditions were abysmal, supplies almost nonexistent, and tensions running sky-high.
Most of the men you treated were lovely and appreciative of your care, but some… some weren’t.
You'd first heard the mutterings after the deaths of two Replacements. One had been shot by a sniper that no one had spotted in time and the other had taken the brunt of a particularly nasty firefight. Campbell and Ulrich were both good kids and in both cases, you had done your best with what little you had but it just wasn’t enough. The wounds were too severe and you didn't have the equipment needed to perform a surgery that risky nor could you do it by yourself, on the battlefield of all places. All you could do was kneel beside them, hands bathed in blood, and whisper broken apologies for not being able to do more as they passed.
Eugene, all too familiar with this sort of loss, told you that you needed to forgive yourself.
“There was nothin’ more you coulda done for 'em, cher,” he said as he handed you half of a bandage he'd scavenged.
But in your heart, you just couldn’t believe that and neither could some of the boys.
Roy Cobb had been especially close with Campbell and he had no qualms about telling the newest replacements and anyone else who would listen exactly what he thought had killed his friend and it wasn't the sniper's bullet.
"What killed him was her damn incompetence," he'd announced, deliberately loud enough for you to hear. "She should've let Roe or Spina treat him, then maybe he would've survived."
"Nobody wanted her here in the first place either," a mortarman named Lombardi added. "They should've given us a third medic instead of some nurse!"
Doc Spina was way out of earshot but your friend Eugene, who had been nearby, had already begun to argue in your defense when you had marched over to the disgruntled group.
These were men you had treated in the past, you realized as your tormented fury began to build. You'd risked your life to save these ungrateful assholes and you knew damn well that the moment they needed you on the battlefield, you'd have to do it again. and again. and again.
Cobb shot you a dirty look and muttered something involving the word “useless” and that was all it took. Heart pounding in your ears, you hauled off and punched him so hard that his nose began gushing blood, but the damage had already been done.
Speirs had heard the commotion from his foxhole and seeing you storm off, tears of frustration and hurt pricking your beautiful eyes, sent an icy rage coursing through his veins that surprised even him.
Who the fuck hurt you like that?
He was going to find out.
The wrath blazing like hellfire in his eyes as he stalked over was enough to make even grown men cower and the guilty parties quailed under his gaze. Ron dragged each one by the collar behind the nearest tree trunk, pinning them one by one with his forearm across their throats before they could blink.
“From now on, you will treat (Y/N) with the utmost respect,” he intoned, his voice eerily calm as he applied just enough pressure on their throats to make them cough. “You will treat her as if she were me. And if I ever get wind that you’re mouthing off at her or otherwise mistreating her again, so help me God, there won't be enough left of you to mail home in a cigarette pack. Is that clear?”
"Y-Yes sir," they'd gasped out and grudgingly, he let them dart back to their foxholes one by one like mice.
He had more important things to worry about.
And if your heart wears thin
I will hold you up
And I will hide you
When it gets too much
I'll be right beside you
Seeing you cry tore Ron's heart in two. You were sitting on that felled tree just behind the embankment, hunched over, face buried in your hands as your shoulders shook with silent sobs.
You were so overcome by your own anguish that you didn’t even hear him approach. Instead, he appeared beside you like a sudden dark spectre against the white snow, making you jump.
“Holy shit,” you yelped, hurrying to brush the tears from your cheeks. “Damn it, Sparky, warn a girl next time, will ya?”
Ron stood awkwardly beside you, hands shoved deep into his pockets, and you swore you could see a small flush of pink creeping up his cheeks and it wasn’t from the cold.
“Sorry,” he replied with a sheepish smile. “I forget I do that sometimes. I just…I was… I wanted to see if you were okay.”
He cursed inwardly.
What a stupid thing to say, Ron, he berated himself. She’s crying. Does she look “okay” to you?
You tried to return the smile but only succeeded in a wan grimace.
“I’m not okay yet but I will be.”
You sighed sadly and gestured to the red cross armband on your arm.
Overwhelmed or not, you were needed.
“I have to be.”
“(Y/N)…May I…Er, if you don’t mind, that is…?” Unable to quite get the words out, he just nodded to the empty spot beside you, earning him a genuine smile from you that filled his chest with warmth.
“Absolutely,” you replied with a small sniffle, lightly patting the place next to you on the log and effectively putting him out of his tongue-tied misery. “I’d like that a lot.”
When you're overwhelmed
And you've lost your breath
And the space between the things you know is blurring nonetheless
You hadn't exactly intended on telling Ron your whole life story but before you knew it, it all came tumbling out: how you'd grown up, what had inspired you to become a nurse, how much you loved what you did but hated what it did to you, and Speirs listened quietly, hanging onto your every word.
But when you admitted the toll it took on you to know how little a difference you were making, he balked.
“No difference?” He repeated, his hazel eyes wide with shock. “Are you kidding? Do you…Is this because of what those assholes back there said?”
You sniffled again with a deflated shrug.
“Assholes or not, I think they made their feelings pretty clear. It'd probably be better for everyone if I just put in for a transfer.”
When you try to speak
But you make no sound
And the words you want are out of reach
But they've never been so loud
Your words echoed in Speirs' head like enemy gunfire.
Transfer…Transfer...Transfer…
Ron felt like you'd just slapped him clear across the face. Come to think of it, he would've preferred it if you had. It would've certainly hurt less than the realization that he would lose you before he'd ever even told you how he felt.
He'd never been any good at romance. To be honest, he'd never really tried. Girls back home flocked to him like flies to honey but he'd just felt uncomfortable with the attention and tried to set them up with his buddies instead, all of whom were dying for a date.
Ronald Speirs was a man of action; communication was not his strong suit, which was one of the myriad of reasons he admired you.
You, who somehow effortlessly made friends wherever you went.
You, whose smile spread warmth on even the coldest winter day.
You, whose kindness made everyone that spoke to you feel not only heard but understood.
You who brought the light of springtime to his ever-present darkness, like Persephone to Hades.
He had never understood why you had made it your mission to befriend him since Day 1 when everyone else avoided him like the Plague but he was glad you did. His intimidating gaze and badass reputation didn’t scare you one bit and you had assured him with your usual friendliness that it would take more than some rumors to scare you away.
He couldn’t let you slip away now.
Trust in me, trust in me
Don't pull away
Just trust in me, trust in me
Taking a shaky breath and exhaling, the tiny clouds curled up into the frosty air in spirals as you stood up. After smoothing some of the ice off your clothes, you gave Ron one last, small smile.
“Thanks for listening,” you said earnestly before remarking with a self-deprecating laugh, “I promise not to be so depressing next time.”
You had just turned to leave when an invisible force compelled him to reach out and grasp your hand at the last second.
“Wait…Please.”
'Cause I'm just trying to keep it together
Because I could do worse and you could do better
The silence was deafening. You stared at Ron, too stunned to speak, and he stared right back, the green and gold flecks in his hazel eyes catching the moonlight.
Had it been any other time, you might’ve found it almost funny to see the infamous “Killer” Speirs at a loss for words just from holding your hand but right now…Right now, you could feel a tornado of butterflies in your stomach and you could tell that he was feeling them too.
“(Y/N), I…” he started before cutting himself off with a shake of his head. “Look, I’m no good at this and I’m sure you’ve probably got someone special writing you from back home already but…”
He rubs the back of his neck nervously with his free hand and you tilt your head, silently, as you watch him.
You’ve never seen him this anxious before, not even in battle.
Truthfully, you didn’t know a man like Ronald Speirs could get anxious. If the roar of gunfire and artillery didn’t faze him, you had thought nothing could.
“If you’re serious about transferring out, then you should at least know that you’ve made a big difference here, to the men…and to me…”
He cleared his throat stiffly.
“Especially to me.”
Your eyes must’ve been the size of dinner plates.
Was he saying what you thought he was saying?
“You are without a doubt, the bravest…the most dynamic…the most selfless woman I know,” he continued as his hazel eyes locked intensely with your (E/C) ones.
“Everything about you…You’re just amazing to me. And I know you don’t feel appreciated and with how things have gone lately, I don’t blame you one bit but damn it, (Y/N), you have to understand that you are vital to this company, not just for what you do but for who you are. We need you here.”
Ron took a shaky breath, exhaling into the frigid night air, before saying quietly, “I need you here.”
I will stay (right beside you)
Nobody will break you
He started to say more but before he could, you dropped his hand and launched yourself at him, knocking the breath out of him as your lips met for the first time. He gently took you into his embrace, causing both your hearts to race, the both of you smiling against each other’s lips. But in your eagerness to deepen the kiss, your teeth clashed slightly against his, sending you into a fit of giggles when you pulled away seconds later.
“Are you…Will you stay?” Ron asked tentatively, still holding you as if you were made of glass. “Please?”
At first, you were tempted to jokingly mull it over but the fear in his golden-green eyes immediately banished the thought from your mind.
This was Ronald “Killer” Speirs. This was a man who had stared Death in the face without blinking, a man whose ferocity and resolve on the battlefield were practically legendary, a man who could take a life with the same ease as one swats a fly…and yet, here he was before you, putting his whole heart in your hands, a heart most people didn’t even know he had.
“Of course I’ll stay,” you reassured him, the moonlight dancing in your eyes as you gazed into his. “As long as you'll be mine, that is.”
Ron gingerly cupped your face in his hands, the silky smoothness of his soft baritone voice making your heart skip a beat.
“Sweetheart,” he murmured as another slow smile spread across his face. “I’ve always been yours.”
Here is Part 3 of my Eye Candy series! Yes, Eye Candy was supposed to be a one-shot but I’m having too much fun with their dynamics.
And because sometimes you just need some soft!Speirs in your life.
Warnings: Speirs being a secret softy and some jealousy, a couple swear words
Words: 3500
Eye Candy series masterlist
Tag List: @happyveday @evelynshelby @sydney-m and @softspeirs (because I mentioned this earlier to you)
Sunlight filtered through the lacy curtains, casting the hotel room in a soft glow. A subtle ticking of the clock was the loudest sound in the room. Laying there in the silky sheets felt divine. No one was screaming orders outside of the barracks as they ran their platoon. One of my fellow nurses was not shuffling around inside trying to be quiet but failing as they slammed their stuff on a cot or on the hard floor. No, it was blissfully quiet. Something I had not realized how much I missed until I started my training at Camp Toccoa and was constantly surrounded by others.
I rolled over onto my side, eyes bleary from having just woken up. Peeking at the clock on the far wall, I could see the little hand pointing at the eleven. Not what I was hoping to see. My weekend pass meant I did not have to be back to base until this evening but if I did not get up now, I might go AWOL just to lounge around in these sheets with the sunlight warming me.
I groaned quietly as I sat up, the soft sheets sliding down my naked body. There was a freeing feeling with sleeping naked. Not that I did it often. Or ever. But the few times I had...I could see the appeal of it being a regular occurrence. Especially with these sheets. Were they made from cherub’s wings? Nothing could be as soft and silky as these sheets. I promised myself after the war, if I made it, I would buy myself a set. Something to look forward to.
As quietly as I could, I slid my legs over the side of the bed, ready to stand up when a deep, gravelly voice stilled my movements.
"Where you think you're goin'?"
I smiled at how perturbed he sounded. Glancing over my shoulder, he still lay on his stomach, arms tucked under his pillow, face buried in it. It was amazing he did not accidentally suffocate himself. "Ron, it's eleven already."
He grumbled, words muffled by the pillow. "So?"
"We need to get up soon."
"You said that two hours ago when we woke up."
"And yet, we're still in bed."
"Mmm…" He tipped his head to the side so one of his half-lidded eyes could glare at me. "I don't see the problem."
"Well some of us can't be lazy like...Ahhh!!" I squealed when an arm snaked around my waist and pulled me back, moving far too fast for someone who just supposedly woke up. Abruptly, I found myself with my head back on the pillow and a broody Lieutenant hovering over me. His bare chest was only inches above mine; and although I could not see it, I could feel that he had not put his Army issued skivvy back on. Just that realization alone bloomed a warmth in my belly.
"You were saying?" He said with a smug look.
"We need to get up."
"Mmm…" He slowly inched his head down, meeting my eyes until his lips trailed down my neck, leaving butterfly kisses.
Without a conscious thought, I tilted my neck to the side, giving him better access. My arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer, loving being under his touch. A small part of my brain berated me for not getting up while I still could. There were things I had planned on doing with my day. But an open mouth kiss on my collarbone caused a moan to fall from my lips and all thoughts of escaping his hold to fly away.
"You were saying?" He repeated.
Through the slowly growing, lust-fuel haze in my mind, I tried to remember why it was so important to leave the bed. "Was I?"
He chuckled, the feeling of it reverberating in my chest. With a quick peck to my lips, he laid his head on my chest, half his body weight on me and an arm wrapped around my waist possessively. I started carding my fingers through his hair, humming softly as we lay there together. The sheets were rumpled around his waist, the only thing keeping me warm was his body. A peacefulness descended. Something very rare in preparation for war. It only encouraged neither one of us to leave the bed, else that peace vanish and reality sink back in. We laid there silently for some time, the only sounds being our breathing and the ticking of the clock.
My thoughts swirled in my mind about the coming weeks. So many unknowns lay before us, like a minefield that we had to walk through. We just had to keep moving forward.
"We leave on the train tomorrow." I stated, staring up at the ceiling. My fingers continued carding through his hair. I would never tell a soul but I knew the feeling immediately relaxed him. Whenever I started doing it, he would practically go limp on me and lay there like a cat sunbathing.
"Mmm."
"Do you know where we are going?"
"Yes."
I swatted him lightly on the shoulder. Of course, he knew. He had the uncanny ability to always be where information was being shared, even if it was not directly relevant to him. It would not surprise me if he snuck into the intelligence officers' offices at night and peeked through their papers. Though I would never tell him that. Plausible deniability is a glorious thing.
When he refused to answer, I swatted him again. Immediately, he growled and nipped at the valley between my breasts, making me squeak. Before I could incite or escape his further wrath, he settled himself back on top of me. When I made no further move, he roughly grabbed my hand and placed it back on the top of his head. I smirked up at the ceiling, and followed his silent order. Perhaps in a past life he had been a cat. It would explain some of the moodiness.
"Tell me." My fingers slipped through his hair, occasionally scraping his scalp, making him hum. "Please."
"I overheard Nixon talking to Sink." He tilted his head to look at me, those dark, piercing eyes meeting mine. "New York."
I connected the dots in my head. "Europe?"
He made no reply as he continued to stare at me, rubbing his thumb along my ribs.
"Can I write to you?"
I felt him stiffen slightly. We had never defined what was between us. Obviously there was attraction and passion, the bruises on my hips and the half-moon indents on his back attested to that. Yet there was also a peaceful companionship I think neither of us expected. He would listen to me ramble about things we learned in class and different techniques to use in the field or the silly things my friends and I had done. On the rare occasion he would vent about one of his men and their stupidity. But I knew he was trying not to make attachments. There was a solid steel wall around his heart he had raised as soon as he stepped foot in Camp Toccoa. He knew his superiors would die. His men would die. He could possibly die. It would be easier to not know their hopes and dreams, their stories and fears. There was one thing we both knew but never acknowledged.
Somehow, I was the exception to his rule.
As we laid there, I tried not to let his silence bother me. I knew it was a long shot to even ask him. I would not be entirely surprised if he said no. We were not even sure that our paths would cross again. I was to be stationed as a nurse for the paratroopers but it had not been finalized for which battalion.
Finally he spoke, looking just over my head the whole time he had been thinking. "Let me think about it."
"Um, ok… well if I meet some other fella who sweeps me off my feet and writes…"
He leaned up and kissed me soundly, interrupting my potential future plan.
"You can't just kiss me to keep me from talking. That's rude." I huffed when he finally allowed me to breathe again.
"No." He stated flatly.
"No? You don't want me writing to someone else, no? I've already had a few soldiers ask if they could write to me."
"No."
"Ron, that's not how this works. If you don't want me writing to you, that tells me you're done with me. I don't do one-night stands."
He quirked an eyebrow, stupid smirk on those kissable lips.
I blushed, swatting him again. "You know what I mean." This was not our first rendezvous together where we snuck away from others while on a weekend pass.
He sighed, dropping his head back on my chest. "And if something happens to me."
"Then I'll mourn but I'll keep doing my job. Who knows? I might even miss you."
He chuckled then lay quietly. I thought he had fallen asleep until he spoke up, so softly I almost did not catch it. "No one was supposed to miss me."
"Mmm," I hummed, tracing the muscles on his back with my finger. In a spur of the moment decision, I decided to be honest, my whisper hanging in the air above us. "Too late...I don't think I can help it now."
We lay there contently for a time, just basking in our own thoughts, the warmth of the morning sun and each other's body.
"Ron, we really need to get up…. stop ignoring me."
He grumbled then suddenly rolled fully on top of me, pressing open-mouth kisses on my neck and chest. "One more."
"How do you have the energy for one more? Christ! Is it possible to die from so many orgasms?"
He froze, slowly his eyes met mine. I knew that look.
"No...no, Ron, NO! That wasn't a challenge...please, oh, shit!"
As I tried to wiggle away from him, he pinned my hips down with his arm and with that dark, seductive look which sent my heart racing, he lowered his face to where I could feel myself throbbing for him.
Needless to say, we did not leave that bed until the afternoon.
*****
The train car rattled along the track, the forests and open fields of the East Coast passed by in a blur. Honestly, at this point I had no idea what state we were even in. Somewhere on our way to New York. Then troopship. Then England.
Soon war.
It was a weird feeling. We had been training and preparing for it. Gathering all the knowledge we could and practicing saving lives until our backs cramped from being bent over pretend bodies and our fingers almost bled from the constant chafing of bandages, syringes and textbooks against them. Yet now on the cusp of war, I felt wholly unprepared.
Pushing the thought away, I rubbed my tired eyes. I picked up my pencil, continuing to try and write a letter to my folks back home before one of the girls found me. I had been sitting in a train car with Lucy, Mary and Rebecca. After a while of listening to them gossip and talk amongst themselves and with the other nurses nearby, I decided to step away. I claimed I needed the quiet to write my letter. Truthfully, I just needed some quiet. I loved those ladies but Christ could they be LOUD.
Staring at the paper in my lap, words seemed to fail. How do I tell my family about everything I was preparing for? All my fears? All my hopes? All my worries? Do I lie and pretend everything is alright?
"Keep it simple." I muttered. With a sharp inhale, my pencil met the paper.
Dear Dad and Mom,
I hope everyone is doing well. I miss everyone. Sometimes I find myself thinking about home and wonder how soon it'll be till I see it. And you guys, of course.
My friends are doing well. Mary has been showing off a picture of her newest nephew to all the nurses. I don’t know how I would have survived all this training without them. They help keep my spirits up during this time. And do not worry, dad, no one has proposed yet. Well, this week at least. There will be no ring on my finger until the war is over.
Just last week we were learning about different types--
"This spot taken?" A rough, rasping voice asked, disturbing my concentration.
I looked up to see a paratrooper standing at the end of my bench seat. I was surprised but wondered if maybe he just needed a space away from his buddies. Most of the other benches and seats were filled up with paratroopers in this train car, a good amount of them sleeping, writing their own letters or gambling. The few voices eased into the background as I sat there, making me momentarily forget I was not actually alone.
"No, it's open." I slid further down, closer to the window. Across from me was a different paratrooper I thought I recognized from Fox Company. He had been in a deep sleep even before I sat across from him, if the small puddle of drool and soft snores said anything.
"Thank you, ma'am. It's damn near impossible to find a quiet spot on this train." He dropped down onto the bench, removing his garrison cap.
I hummed, returning my eyes to the letter. Maybe I should not mention the proposals, even if they were all in jest. Though thinking about them brought up images of a pair of intense, dark eyes and strong hands that had come to know my body almost as well as I did. A blush warmed my cheeks at the thought.
It had been several weeks since we first began seeing each other. In public, we continued in our separate roles. Ron was not one for public affection, even if he always glared a hole in the head of any man he caught talking with me. I had heard through the rumor mill that word spread- I was Speirs' girl, even if no one ever saw us interact in that way. If Speirs purposefully started the rumor or my friends did after seeing the hickeys he left on my neck the first time... either way, the flirting and catcalls involving me dropped to a minimum.
In private, when we could sneak away or secretly meet up...he had no problem showering physical affection on me until I was seeing stars and melted into a puddle in his arms.
I wondered where he was on the train. Before I got on, I caught a glimpse of him directing some of his men on the platform. There were so many unknowns for us. My own feelings for him had grown like weeds since he kissed me. Part of me knew it was trouble. We were heading into war where nothing was certain. Yet the other part of me craved him. He was like no man I had ever known before. With one glimpse of him, my heart practically beat out of my chest. In his arms was quickly becoming my favorite place to be. I loved how there was never a need to fill the silence while with him.
Was this love?
I shot that thought down before it could plant anywhere. Last time I talked to Ron, he never confirmed if I could even write to him. I knew being with me was not easy for him. Although he never explicitly said it, I wondered if he thought he was going to die during the war.
That rasping voice interrupted me once again. "I'm John Billings, Private first class, Baker Company."
"Nurse Y/L/N." I nodded, glancing at him. Short, cropped blond hair, vibrant blue eyes, dimple on one cheek and broad shoulders. If he was inclined, he looked like he could bench-press me. He was attractive...but I was not interested.
"Ah, come on, you not gonna tell me your first name?"
I shrugged, still keeping my gaze on my letter, hoping he would take the hint.
Apparently not.
"Any guesses on where we're heading? One of my buddies thinks Africa. I think we're headed to Italy or something like that. Either way, Nazis are gonna regret starting this thing when we come in and fucking finish it." He laughed. When I did not respond, he slid a little closer, legs spread wide like he owned the bench seat. "Where you from? You sound kinda like my ma."
"I don't think that's your business."
"Hey, doll, no reason to get upset. I'm just making small talk."
"Well, I'm trying to write a letter."
"Alright, I get it. I'll leave ya alone." He laid his arms on the back of the bench, on either side of him, staring towards the front of the train car. His hand lay right behind my shoulders, almost touching them.
I rolled my eyes.
Several more minutes went by and finally I finished my letter. Well, at least I could not think of anything else to write home about. I folded it up, stashing it and my pencil back into my satchel to mail once we reached New York. My last letter written in America. That thought scared me more than I cared to admit.
"Letter to a sweetheart?"
"No," I replied. "Letter home."
He nodded. "I need to do that myself or my ma will find me no matter where we are and spank me with her wooden spoon."
I could not help the giggle that bubble up at the image evoked. "That sounds like my grandmother. I swear even the devil is terrified of her."
He laughed loudly, throwing his head back, eyes crinkling.
We both stilled when our sleeping companion shifted in his seat, running a hand over his face. Just as soon as he began moving, he stopped once again, snores filling the air.
I looked back out the window, watching the countryside pass. How soon would it be before I saw America again after I left? Would I ever? How much longer could this war drag on for? How different would I be when I returned home? Would my family even recognize me?
"So, you gonna tell me your name yet, beautiful?" My other companion teased, sliding slightly closer.
Before I could open my mouth, a deep, husky voice spoke, sending shivers down my spine. "That's Nurse to you, Private."
I looked over to see Ron standing in the walkway, arms crossed. His signature glare aimed at the paratrooper next to me. Death in his eyes.
My companion froze under the intense look, like prey just waiting for the predator's jaws to rip them apart. "Yes...ah, yes, sir."
"I suggest you find yourself another seat."
The Private scrambled out of his seat without a backward glance at me, mumbling something at Ron before briskly walking away and finding a seat further up the train car.
"Awww…. I think you scared him away."
Ron stared at me for a moment before glancing around and settling into the seat just vacated. "Why aren't you with the other nurses?"
"Just needed some quiet for a minute so I could write a letter home."
He raised an eyebrow. That man could carry entire conversations with just his facial expressions.
"The Private came after I was already sitting." I explained, knowing that was what he wanted to know.
He seemed to think it over before taking my hand in his. Something he had never done in public before. A small smirk teased his lips as he entwined our fingers. "Did you write home about me?"
"No. Should I have?"
He sat there quietly, rubbing his thumb on the back of my hand.
"I thought about it." I admitted, looking at our hands. Though I could feel the heavy weight of his gaze on my face, I did not meet it. "But… I did not want… they would think then…"
"I want you to write me."
My head shot up, eyes wide and lips parted. "Really? Are you sure?"
He mock-glared at me.
"Will you write me back?"
To my endless surprise, he leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to my lips, leaving me speechless. "I'll think about it." He winked before getting up and smoothing back out his impeccable Class A uniform. "I'll find you when we arrive."
"Ok." I answered meekly, my brain trying to understand what just happened.
With one more longing look, he nodded and started back down the train car, disappearing just as quickly as he appeared.
He wanted me to write him...and he would write back!
And he kissed me.
In public!
To anyone else it may seem insignificant but for me...this was monumental. He was claiming me as his girl. Not just rumors anymore. It was ridiculous how my heart swelled at the thought.
A softly spoken "damn" made my head whip round to see the Private who had been sleeping now staring at me with eyes as big as saucers and mouth hanging open slightly.
"Damn." I echoed back, touching my lips, still in shock.
I was such a goner for him. Though, I could not find it anywhere in myself to be upset about that.
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.
Genre: FLUFF with a side of angst (or should I say Speirs trying not to pout cause he didn’t get his way)
Warning: Mention of warfare, death, weapons, burn scars/wounds, language
Prompt: Request by @holdingforgeneralhugs “how about a Soft!Speirs oneshot because I am majorly in my Speirs feels rn and I will consume literally any soft Speirs content by the BUCKETFUL! “
A/N: *spoken in spongebob narrator’s voice* aaah the sickly sweet nature of "we’re more than friends and we both know it”
If the woman who sat patiently in the back of the beaten Jeep was nervous, she didn’t show it at all, a calm look was a normal expression upon her face as many had come to know. Her body was free of tension, and she could even say the chill travelling down her spine as the wind whipped over the exposed skin of her neck was a welcomed feeling compared to the intense heat of the Pacific. However, it would take a lot more than just the gentle expression on her face and the little tension in her body for people to not see that this woman was tired.
I guess you could say that was part of the reason she was here, in the whiteout forest surrounding Foy, Bastogne. With a year or so of combat experience already dealt with, her soldiers had placed their lives gratefully in the hands of the well put together woman for more reasons than just her cool composure, and it had been noticed. She had worked tirelessly to ensure the safety of those in her platoon and even those who were not. She wasn’t your natural born combat leader but she had the tools to learn; and learn she did. With a metaphorical hammer and nails, she built and upgraded herself so she could take the weight of everything she’d had to see and do in recent years. This being said, she didn’t force herself to reshape every aspect, no, she ensured that every chink in her armour was carefully polished but never fully made new. She held that emotion that came with the trauma she’s been through and wore it like a medal. Her best friend Ron had always told her how admirable she was for that trait, praised her for being such a strong person in rough times. And even then, he had still promised to be there whenever she couldn’t be that person. A thought that Y/N had sometimes wished he could follow through with even though he was likely somewhere in the middle of god-knows-where, fighting for his life while she was, well, here.
When the 501st Airborne Regiment’s top dog, Colonel Sink, heard of the admirable paratrooper known as Lieutenant Y/N L/N, he had jumped at the chance to rip her away from being caught once again in the hot talons of the Pacific that she had just been pulled from. A transfer had been accepted by both her and her previous superiors as Sink called for the help of a capable platoon leader now that he had lost Buck Compton, and don’t even get him started on the ex-CO known as Dike. The Colonel himself was sat beside the woman informing her of the men she would be taking over for and though he would never say it out loud, the man had his fingers crossed in a silent plea that this officer beside him was the right choice for Easy Company moving forward. The man talked with a gentle kind of assertiveness, kind yet firm with his words while he explained several things such as the Battle of Foy that had taken place the day before, and the new company CO. He was impressed with the way the woman was able to point out the strengths and weaknesses of an assault she wasn’t familiar with nor witnessed, his mind being left just slightly more at ease with his choice.
The two pulled up into the main street of Foy as their conversation continued, and they were meet by the darkened red hair of the battalion’s XO. The man stood with the same tired but calm expression as Y/N as they both drew smiles to their lips to exchange to one another.
“Captain Winters, I’d like to introduce you to Easy Company’s new platoon leader, Lieutenant L/N. I expect a warm welcome to be given to the Lieutenant, Y/N’s come a long way for us.” The colonel had said and followed it up quickly with a sharp pat on the woman’s shoulder. “Lieutenant L/N, I’m excited to see how you do with Easy Company.” He exchanged a few more words between the two before jumping back into the jeep and taking off with a yelp of ‘Curahee’ to those men of Easy who had lingered carefully to see the newcomer. Y/N watched as he went with a small smile before turning back to the red headed Captain who was stood with the same curled lips. A gust of wind blew along her spine as they stared at each other for a split second, a shiver rippling down her body aggressively.
“Well, sir, I don’t know if the welcome will be able to get much warmer than this.” The man huffed out a laugh at this as another officer with dark hair came into view behind him with a snort, clapping the other man on the back.
“I like this one Dick. Can we keep her?”
***
If there was one thing Y/N knew already about the Intelligence Officer known as Captain Nixon, is that he could talk. Not that she was complaining, the constant chatter being thrown from his mouth was entertaining, an amused smirk finding its way to her lips almost as soon as he’d begun to talk. The random banter he sprouted had reminded her again of her best friend, someone she thought of constantly, it would seem. It wasn’t the way he was talking in great amounts because god knows that Ron was a more of a listener than a talker but it was in the way his eye crinkled at the edge when he laughed at his own jokes. She’d hate to admit the way she’d compare everyone and everything to the man she was desperately in love with but she knew that she did it just often enough to stop the dull ache in her chest from turning into a stabbing pain.
“-and let’s just say, that didn’t go down very well with the wife.”
“I can’t imagine why, Captain Nixon, you seem like such a mellow man.” She’d said with a quiet chuckle and a roll of her eyes as they continued their walk to the building that second platoon was bunking in.
“Ah, what can I say? I’m as close to perfect as they come.”
“Oh I’m sure you are Sir.”
“Eh, you may say that with judgement now but just you wait and see.” He threatened while pulling a flask from his pocket before offering her a sip. She glanced at it with a raised brow and then proceeded to shrug her shoulders as she reached for it. A harsh cough of disgust almost echoed around the town as the woman screwed up her face.
“There’s no way you can convince me you’re close to perfect when you drink shit like this Sir.” She managed to say. Nixon laughed while taking his own sip.
“We’re gonna get along just fine, I’m sure. Now let’s go find one newly appointed CO, Captain Speirs for introductions.” The man had barely finished talking before Y/N’s head had flicked to him so quickly one could question if she would have whiplash.
“Captain Speirs? Ronald Speirs?” She questioned with an urgency that almost worried Nixon.
“Uh, yeah?” He replied carefully. Before either got a chance to ask more questions, a voice had called for the Captain behind them, one familiar to the both of them. A shiver ran down Y/N’s spine though she’d never admit whether it was the cold or whether it accompanied the violent beating of her heart. As she thought of how much she missed that voice, she’d turned slowly and faced the man that it belonged to.
There he was, walking towards them from a distance, his face almost the same as she’d last seen it aside from the matching dark shadows under his eyes and the odd spot of mud on his skin. Though his eyes had only been on Nixon as he wandered over, he moved his gaze to Y/N as she whispered his name, almost like he’d heard her across the distance between them. He’d faltered for a second, his eyes blinking as if trying to rid the dream from his foggy mind only to realise what he was seeing.
“Ronald-fucking-SPEIRS!” The woman had all but yelled, her feet carrying her as quickly as they could over to him. His breath had lodged itself in his throat before he too begun to move quicker towards her. It would have been quite the sight to see and it certainly was in Nixon’s eyes as he watched the two race towards each other and collide almost violently. Even with the clashing of bodies, the two were like magnets and didn’t seek to become unstuck from each other any time soon. As soon as their bodies connected, Ron’s hands had moved to cradle her neck and waist while Y/N wrapped tightly around his shoulders. They clutched at each other as if their lives depended on it and each drop of emotion and every ounce of missing one another had combusted as they stood there. Ron let out a quiet huff of a disbelieving laugh into her hair while stoking his thumb across the back of her neck.
“Are you a dream? Or did I get shot or something?” He questioned so quietly it almost didn’t reach her ear directly beside his mouth. She hummed to him in response before muttering to him a continued stream of ‘I’m here’s. Ron pulled back from her slowly, his hands moving to cup her face while staring at her in awe.
“You’re here.” He whispered back. He almost let out a sigh of contempt before he tuned in to the distant noise of gunfire and felt himself snap back into reality. His hands on Y/N’s jaw became more tense as he stared at her with a different expression. “You’re here.” He repeated while she furrowed her eyebrows, taking a small step back. His hands dropped to his sides as Nixon finally moved over to the two, a look of pure confusion mixed with shock covering his features.
“I feel like you two know each other.”
“Wow Sir, I’m not surprised you’re the intelligence officer.” She replied to the man causing him to smirk. Ron looked at Nixon as he grabbed Y/N’s arm gently.
“What the hell is she doing here?” He questioned almost furiously. Nixon just shrugged before taking another swig of his drink.
“Say hello to your new second platoon leader, Lieutenant L/N.”
“Lieutenant?!”
***
Ron doesn’t speak at first as the two wander over to second platoon, losing Nixon along the way to a task he needed to do. He was mad, she could tell, and as she asked what was wrong, he sent her a glare over his shoulder. She knew what he was doing of course, she hasn’t been his best friend for many years and not pick up on these things. He was processing, he just needed a bit of time of switching to default ‘tough Ron’ to hide the fact that what he was actually doing was wandering a long pathway through his thoughts and emotions. He wouldn’t be mad forever, he was just worried. She guessed the last time he saw her she was home safe and promising to write to him and then she was practically a ghost in the wind with not a single letter finding it’s way to him until suddenly she shows up right in front of him and worse yet as a US Army Trooper Officer. One could see why the man was a little grumpy.
“I missed you.” She heard him say to her and when she glanced at him again, his jaw was tensing under his skin. The words contradicted everything you could see from his body language but she smiled anyway.
“And I missed you. Guess two years can do that to a person.”
“You know what I just can’t figure out though?” He asked as he stopped before a building, clearly the one they were going to be entering. She shrugged at him as she too stopped. “What I can’t figure out is how the hell you got here.”
“Well you see I was in this darn awful place called the Pacific, god it was hot there. Anyway, then I got this call to get on this boat back to this other place where I then got on this plane to another other place and-“
“Spare me the jokes Y/N. I meant how did you even get into the Arm-“ He paused suddenly, looking at all the details of her face as he gulped. “Did you say Pacific? You came from the Pacific?” He asked in a low voice. Y/N just nodded softly, her expression the same but her eyes holding so many thoughts unsaid. He saw it in her mannerisms then, all the little things he’d always noticed she did when upset. He’d noticed the dark shadows under her eyes. Hell, he’d noticed the faint red burn scar that climbed up the side of her neck, angry and raw. He took a careful step forward before grasping one of her hands in one of his, his thumb moving to draw little lines across her skin. “I’m sorry Y/N. We’ll talk about this later. I think right now we should just introduce you to the men, get you settled in and everything.”
“Yeah, we’ll talk about it later.” She replied almost making a promise that they would indeed need to talk about it later. A smile rose to Ron’s face as he nodded in confirmation before pushing her helmet back pressing a gentle kiss to her hairline and moving it back.
***
The men had been a little thrown off by the presence of the new officer and didn’t seem to want to warm up to the idea of her at all. That was until she made a snarky comment directed at Speirs regarding her not needing him to defend her and with no reaction from him but a nod of confirmation they’d decided she must have been some kind of angel or a god with the power to make the great Captain Speirs bow in submission. Y/N had decided to milk that theory a little when it came to her new reputation of being the ‘tamer of legends’. She’d gotten quite the kick out of it and decided to tease Ron as much as possible since then.
As promised, they talked about it later. They talked about the Pacific and Europe, jump wings and basic training, the year he’d left and the year she’d arrived, all blurring into one long conversation had in the early hours of the morning. Ron held Y/N as she cried as she’d been dreaming of him doing since he left while she ran her fingers through his hair as he lay his head in her lap. And just like that, they had fallen in love with each other all over again. Just two lost souls who had found their way back to each other as they always did and they always would. Their hands moulded perfectly together as they lay beside each other in bed, their noses almost touching as they listened to one another pour their hearts out like they never did with anyone but each other.
“I just ran. It wasn’t really like we had any other option so I just didn’t think twice.”
“I know you like to play this tough guy act but sometimes I think you play it a little to well.” She replied with a giggle. He smiled down at her gently, nudging his nose ever so slightly into hers as she teased him.
“I play the tough guy because the tough guy always gets the prettiest girl.”
“Well then you’ve been watching too many movie films.” She teased as his fingers began to trail her jaw gently. They both sat quietly as they admired each other, his touch sending shivers down her spine until they stop on the side of her neck. He seemed hesitant to ask about the burns that lay directly beside where his fingers touched her skin, she had read it on his face.
“The Japanese are ruthless and the Pacific is even more so.” She said in a low voice, sitting up as her hands moving to unbutton the top layers of her clothes until she got to the last shirt. He watched her closely as she removed each piece, waiting for her to tell him more. “It’s hard to explain, and even if I could I don’t know if I’d want to.” She continued, pulling off the last shirt she wore and exposing her upper body to the cold air. He saw it now in full as it trailed down her neck and over her shoulder, as well as some of the left side of her back and chest. She would usually feel uncomfortable or embarrassed but with Ron she felt safe, she felt seen. “It was an explosion, a mine, grenade, bazooka, I don’t know. Set fire to the trees around us, and then some of me with it.” He sat up slowly, his gaze moving to every part of her that he could take in, the raw blazing scar as well as the soft skin that he reminisced touching gently in many early hours of the morning. She sat patiently, letting him take in her entire being, letting him visualise her once again to capture in memory. His dark eyes moved back to hers slowly, his hands reaching out to pull her closer to him by the waist.
“You’re as beautiful as you were the day I had to leave you.” He’d whispered to her, caressing her cheek carefully as she smiled at him, tears swimming in her eyes. And as he leaned in to plant his lips on hers, he let a smile take over his features while he held the love he had missed so much in his arms once again. Their lips melted together as they had so many times before, yet this time it held an urgency, a desperate need to make up for lost time. They held each other close like they had in the streets earlier, his hands holding her neck and jaw gently while she wrapped her arms tightly round his neck. “You’re my best friend.” He said suddenly. Y/N let out a quiet chuckle as they pulled back fully, causing Ron to look at her and smile.
“What?” He questioned.
“It’s funny, isn’t it. That we both knew, but never said anything.”
“Never felt like it needed saying.” He said finally, his eyes never leaving hers as he brushed a hair away from covering them. “Would you like me to say it now?” She looked down almost sheepishly, as if she suddenly felt shy under his gaze while he spoke to her. He smiled once again before pressing a kiss to the side of her head.
Warning: Depiction of sleeping issues derived from PTSD, mention of clearly crappy mental health, mentions of warfare
Prompt: Request by @softguarnere “ If your requests are still open, I was wondering if I could request some sleepy speirs content? 💕 Thank you!!”
There had been three strikes before she was out. Three seperate instances that led to her demise. The first one, in her defence, was a complete and utter accident, an unforeseeable motion she couldn’t control. The second one, well, that one was not so much. And don’t even get me started on how purposeful the third one was. And the two things every strike had in common, one of which needs a ‘DO NOT TOUCH’ sign to be hung from it so she’d restrain herself?
Ronald-freaking-Speirs and sleeping.
The scene leading up to the first time was reasonably simple. She had been given all she could have dreamed for that night; a roof over her head and four solid walls keeping the frigid wind from tickling her flushed cheeks, a warm fire chasing the cold air away and a little bit of peace and quiet. Before then she’d even had a delicate chorus of a nuns’ choir lulling her muscles to rest a little. It was unfortunate, however, that the relaxation of the woman’s body did little to help the calming of her fast-paced mind from the storm that blew within. The constant need to glance over her shoulders or to jolt awake whenever she nodded off for a second was driving Y/N’s exhaustion to an all time high. She’d be lucky if she’d been getting a couple of hours sleep a day at that rate during and after the battle with the unforgiving terrain of the forests of Bastogne. So with the taking of Foy, the company had found themselves in a church in Rachamp, complete with hot food and a warm place to sleep for the night. With this in mind, Y/N had assumed she’d be given the chance to just that, sleep for the night. At first, this didn’t seem to be the case.
Most of the men had settled down for the night along the floor of the church with the bedding given to them by the nuns as well as their own slipped tightly around their bodies. The only ones that hadn’t had been the one’s who were tucked away at the CP, keeping an eye out for their pals while they slept somewhat soundly. Not Y/N either. Even given the chance to sleep for at least a planned six hours, Y/n’s mind had been running double time to stop that from happening. It was the slight pull in her chest mixed with the occasional prickling of her skin that she felt as she sat leaning against the back of the church pew she’d claimed as her own. The constant need to check her surroundings left her with tired eyes roving slowly around the room every 10 or so minutes as she chased the feeling of safety like a distant dream that was fading quickly into reality.
Previously frozen fingers gripped lightly at the fraying edges of the blanket that had been place gently over her shoulders by one of the nuns, her body soaking up the extra comfort of warmth, even if it didn’t completely stop the anxiety from resting in her veins. The snores and deep breathing of the men she called brothers also set a flame of comfort in her heart to warm her cold bones but even then, it wasn’t quite enough to let her settle.
Dim candlelight flicked within the church, setting a cast of light across her face as she turned her head slowly to the opening door. A chill licked up her spine as the wind managed a quick sprint to her before it had been promptly shut back out again. She became aware of a presence that had placed itself down beside her a little slower than she would have liked but she prided herself in identifying the man as soon as she’d clicked to his sudden appearance.
“I’m surprised you’re still awake Lieutenant L/N. But while I have you here, I’d like to go over a few thoughts with you.” He said in such a firm, authoritative voice that the tired woman could only react with a nod of confirmation as he pulled out several maps to talk over. She tried to pay attention as he pointed out specific plans and how they’d work well but her focus on the maps was slipping by the minute, which embarrassingly had not been the first time it had happened while receiving a talk from Ronald Speirs. Her eyes had trailed over the hand that stayed pointed at the map before following the sleeve of his shirt, over the curve of his shoulder to look at his face. While he talked, she’d watched the muscles contract under his jaw and traced the dark shadow of exhaustion that also lay under his eyes. With the low whisper of his voice, Y/N’s brain started to fog, her vision following not far behind. She could feel as her mind gave in to her body level of relaxation, though this time she did not jolt with the prickling of her skin or clench of her chest. The woman gave in to the safety blanket of comfort that the man beside her had brought with his presence slowly but surely as she was lulled to sleep by his trailing voice.
It took Captain Speirs a minute or two to realise the state of exhaustion his companion had let herself slip into, until he felt a sensation of pressure on his shoulder that caused him to look down at her. Y/N had managed to fall asleep under the comfort of the man that was her commanding officer as she curled into his side, with her head tucked gently onto his shoulder. And for reasons no one would know of or witness but him, he let her, even letting a small smile of amusement slip onto his lips as he moved himself to offer her a more comfortable position to sleep in. It wasn’t long before he too felt himself succumbing to sleep, his eyelids drooping down over his dark eyes several times until they closed completely while his head had unintentionally come to rest lightly upon hers. The two officers had welcomed the calming touch of another beside them as they slept, even if it had only been for four or so hours before they both awoke to prepare before their men rose.
As I said before; reasonably simple.
The second time had been only a distant dream in her mind, just a silly little idea that had fluttered its way into her wandering thoughts a little to many time since the incident in the church.
It was late when the two had stumbled up the stairs, the sun resting while the moon illuminated the snow covered streets, much like it had the night before. Y/N huffed a mock sigh of frustration as the grown man beside her had leant some of his unsteady weight on her, grabbing one of his arms to throw over her shoulder. Ron chuckled tiredly while applying a little more weight jokingly, causing her to stumble which had been followed quickly by a threatening glare.
“You’re being a pain in the ass, Sir. I’m just trying to help drag your sorry-ass to bed before you work yourself to death.”
“I didn’t ask for your help Lieutenant, you did that all by yourself. And how many times do I gotta tell you, it’s Ron to you.” The woman rolled her eyes as he spoke in his usual firm voice though she could see the glint of humour in his tired eyes. She admired the way they shone even in his state of exhaustion, a trait she hoped she could mirror though she wasn’t so sure that was indeed how she looked at all. She’d also envied the way his hair had fallen so perfectly over his forehead and she could imagine the amount of times he’d sat running his fingers through his hair in frustration after last night’s prisoner snatch patrol across the river. She had imagined that the appearance of a mirror would be cruel to her as she stood beside him with her helmet messy hair falling from its braids, and clouded eyes. What she imagined and what the tired man beside her thought were two very different things, however. He had not been able to stop glancing at her, his worn out state causing his focus to go at even the slightly distraction. But to him, she’d always been a distraction even when not tired; a big distraction. Through hazy, slightly squinted eyes, he took in the way she seemed to glow in the natural moonlight that shone through the windows, the way her hair, though messy, had framed her face just right to express the hard working and strong woman he’d felt himself pulled towards.
“If that’s so then it’s only right to say it’s Y/N to you.” She’d replied as they made their way into his room, her hands moving to give him a gentle shove to the bed. “Now you better go to sleep or so help me I’ll be talking to Winters about it and we both know you don’t want to upset our mother hen.” She’d teased before swiftly turning to leave the room. Ron watched her with those squinted eyes before calling out to her and raising his boot sloppily off the side of the bed.
“I’m asking for help now Y/N.” He’d mocked before giving his foot a shake, his head flopping back onto the bed tiredly. The woman huffed at the dark haired man before she stomped back over and begun to undo the man’s laces. She’d taken a minute to slip both boots off his feet, throwing the blanket over them as she finished. She pretended to tuck him in with amusement painted across her features.
“You’d better be happy with the service. I recon it’s 5 sta-“ Y/N stopped suddenly when she’d glanced up at the man’s resting face and noticed the gentle rise and fall of his chest. The great Ronald Speirs had fallen asleep with one of his platoon leaders pulling the boots off his feet. What would the men think about this? The thought wasn’t processed more than just the throw away comment made under her breath as she moved to sit herself on the bed so she could remove the tightened belt of webbing that held his canteens to his waist off. After placing it quietly on the ground as to not startle the man awake, she had glanced back at him again. She admired him as she had while helping him up the stairs, however, this time she was seeing an even softer version of him. The admirable man she’d led up the stairs seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, the strain being seen across his brow as it creased. The sleeping man before her was different, his shoulders relaxed and his face youthful as his eyelashes fluttered slightly with every breath he took.
She had felt it coming this time, much more than she had last time. One could say she had warning, and one could definitely say she completely ignored that. Her choice being that she would not make the trek to her own bedroom just downstairs and instead found herself slipping into sleep splayed out beside one Ronald Speirs. That one choice led to the best nights sleep that either of them had had in a long time, a idea which they had sheepishly shared to each other the next morning as she had woken up with his arm draped over her waist. Guess it was a day dream brought to life after all.
Now, the third time you ask? Oh god, the third time.
The war was almost at its end, they could both feel it even if they were still told to standby for the Pacific. But the war had been long and Y/N was tired.
The dynamic between Y/N and Ron had shifted slightly since that night in Hagenau, if the softened eyes and closer proximity had been enough to speak for themselves. It was clear to them that they’d both been trying to make it happen again, with the constant question of ‘when will you be finished’ was passed between them almost every day. It was unfortunate that the circumstances had kept them from each other as one was often asleep while the other worked, or how she was often needed within her platoon’s housing to stay to coordinate her boys.
Tonight, however, had worked in their favour. Ron had left only an hour or so prior to the woman as she finished up with a debrief had between her and her sergeant, Johnny Martin. When asked by said man whether she was coming to bed soon, she had shaken her head ‘no’ and made up some silly excuse to having more work to do for the night. Martin shook his head at the woman yet a small smile on his lips told her it was an action of affection and not distaste.
“Well you make sure you look after yourself ma’am. Don’t work too hard, you need your sleep too.” The man gave Y/N a gentle pat on her shoulder as he passed her to head out the door. She continued to stand there for a few seconds more after she’d heard it close gently before she let a dragged breath leave her mouth.
“I do need my sleep.” She muttered to herself, her feet immediately moving to take her towards the housing she knew Ron was staying in. It didn’t take her long to reach his door, her feet dragging behind her with every step she took. She didn’t even bother knocking as she opened the door and stepping into the room before firmly closing it once more. The presence of the moon was once again seen as it shone directly onto the resting figure from the window across from the bed. His skin almost glowed from the white light that illuminated his skin and Y/N could feel her stomach clench at the sight of him. He lay on his stomach, with both arms tucked under the pillow his head rested on and his face turned towards her. His hair fell the same way it did the second time, so messy yet so beautiful.
His fingers twitched suddenly, the arm closest to her coming to stretch across the blanket. She glanced at his face once more only to realise she’d been caught admiring the man as she saw his eyes barely squinted open enough to see. With not a single uttering of a word, his outstretched fingers grasped at blanket before lifting it in her direction. She had understood the simple action, taking several steps forward while removing her dress uniform to expose her PT kit beneath, then jumping several step to pull her boots of quickly. By the time she had gotten herself ready for bed she was directly in front of him and had all but launched herself into Ron’s outstretched arms. He was as warm and comforting as she remembered and the woman couldn’t stop the sign of contentment that left her lips as she snuggled her face into the crook of his neck. He smiled down at her before pressing his nose into her hair and gently inhaling the calming scent of the woman he’d grown so fond of.
“Thank god you’re here.” He’d whispered groggily into her hair. “I couldn’t fucking sleep.” The comment made her smile.
“Well Ron, now you can sleep happy.” She’d replied, her warm breath travelling over the exposed skin of his neck and jaw. They had curled into each other so naturally, neither feeling more at ease in recent years than they had right then and there. He’d smiled with closed eyes and let a quiet chuckle out, his fingers rubbing gentle circles into the skin covering her hipbones in an absentminded action of adoration.
“Yeah, I can sleep happy indeed.”
So as I said, there had been three strikes before she was out. Three seperate instances that led to her demise. The first one, in her defence, was a complete and utter accident, an unforeseeable motion she couldn’t control. The second one, well, that one was not so much. And don’t even get me started on how purposeful that third one was. Her demise, of course, was love, but for the opportunity to sleep soundly in Ronald Speirs’ arms just one more time, she’d let love wreck her.
I feel like it will come as no surprise to anyone who's ever talked to me about the BOB biographies that I am very passionate about the way Speirs is portrayed. 💀 Dude was literally an accountant, had poodles, and square danced for fun - which just seems like such a far cry from the rough, almost cruel, and emotionally unavailable man that we so often portray him as
