Ron Spiers

Ron spiers

idk why I picked sparks but I thought it fit him.

hey could you maybe write about Speirs x civilian girl, where he is hiding in her shed and she comes in to grab something but then he’s there, at first she is scared cause she thinks he is the enemy

ahh my first ask, excitingg ✨✨

I'll be on my way

Ronald Speirs x fem!civilian!reader

Summary: there's a strange soldier in your home

Words: 860

You lived away from the chaos of the city, tucked away in peaceful nature. It was Thursday, you had just visited the market in town. Your hands were full as you dragged your bags across the hall to the kitchen. 

How could’ve you been so lost in your thoughts? What could’ve possibly been so important? You can’t remember anymore. A sudden human silhouette in the corner of your eye made your blood run cold. You dropped the bags to the floor with a quiet thud. As he looked back at you, some surprise visible on his face as well, your body felt heavier than ever. You felt stuck in place. 

You stared at each other for a few forever feeling seconds. Time had seemed to stop, since it didn’t matter anymore. Was this it?

Then, for a split second, he looked away from you to glance down at the scattered vegetables. This broke the spell, his eyes no longer holding you hostage. You sprinted out of the kitchen and back into the short hallway, rolling all the rugs on your way. He yelled something after you and tried grabbing you.

You reached for the rifle behind the front door. This was what it was there for, was it not? For men like him. For bad men who break into the homes of people who had never done anything bad to anyone. Your fingers curled around the walnut gun stock but no matter how quickly you could’ve managed to turn back around, he had already reached you. Try all you might, the long barrel of the gun couldn’t fit the narrow space between you, the side only smacking against his arm and the barrel pointing at the hallway behind him.

He had you pinned against the door, the rifle now pressed against your chest. You screamed at him, fingers still gripping tightly around the useless firearm.

”Stop, stop,” he hissed through his teeth, eyes dark and serious. You didn’t. Obviously. You tried shoving him back by pushing the stock of the gun further away from your own chest. An agitated grunt left your throat as he didn’t budge. 

”Calm down,” he said, voice ever so slightly quiter but still with the same demanding tone. His eyes seemed glued to yours, ”I’ll be on my way soon. I’m not going to hurt you.”

You cursed at him in your native language and moved the rifle so your wrist wasn’t bent so painfully. “Stop it, will you?” He sighed, somewhere between frustration and annoyance, as his hands slid back from your shoulders to your shoulder blades.

The rifle was pressed against your chest, and his, as he pulled you into some form of a hug. You hated how quickly it made your body relax. The physical contact tricking your nervous system, making your muscles and thoughts ease. He pulled you a little tighter against him, probably feeling your shoulders drop in his arms.

“I’ll use the well in the backyard to fill my canteen and then be on my way,” He murmured into your hair before leaning back a little and looking you in the eyes, “Will you let me leave?” His eyes were still the same, but his tone was softer. He brought his hand on top of yours and lowered the rifle, before placing it to lean against the wall, where it had been, untouched, just a moment before.

He took a slow step backwards, his hands losing contact with you, now loosely raised and visible. He took another step back and opened the front door. Before he stepped out, he looked back at you, “I’ll be in the backyard for a moment and then I’ll leave.” He said, and as an afterthought, you heard the words, “Didn’t mean to scare, Miss,” from the crack of the door.

The door was now closed, but you stood still for another minute or two. You had just gone from fearing for your life to secretly hoping he’d hold you just a moment longer.

Finally, you walked back into the kitchen, trying to ignore that the house didn’t feel the same it had five minutes ago, and set your bags onto the table. You opened the cabinets he had been standing next to and with a sigh you noted a few cans missing. Could’ve been worse. You then picked up a couple vegetables from the floor before gathering the courage to carefully peek out of the small kitchen window. And there he was, hunched over the water pump as he filled his canteen with water.

With your still shaky hands, you creaked open the back door. His head instantly turned around as he saw movement. He kept using the water pump, but continued to glance up at you before noticing you were unarmed. “Hey,” He said as he screwed the cap close.

“Hello,” you responded and leaned against the doorframe. He attached the canteen to the side on his belt before looking back up at you. You were suddenly nervous again, trying to remind yourself why you were outside in the first place. “American?” You asked him and he nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

You smiled shyly at him, “Hungry?”

masterlist

Ahhhh there soooo good

All my drawings are here.

"You, my friend, are headed to Paris. That's a 48-hour pass. It's been decided you need a little civilization." – 1x05: crossroads

requested by @saritasoyyo as a gift for the lovely & talented writer @marycontraire! please check out her fic, contact tracing ♥︎

Lewis Nixon and dick winter, band of brothers

NOT A SHIP