𝙷𝙱𝙾 𝚆𝚊𝚛 𝙸𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜

My Everything | Ron Speirs

gif not mine. soft speirs. we all love soft speirs. that's all i have to say. sorta based off an old piece i wrote a couple years ago.

~~~

You were exhausted.

Everything ached.

Your head, your hands, your feet. All the way down to your bones. You could feel the cold seeping through your thin, tattered jacket as you tried keeping yourself warm in the foxhole.

"What a god-forsaken place."

You closed your eyes and tried letting sleep come, or even just a warm bed. Something that was enough to keep you together for now.

You sat there, your helmet on the ground next to you, waiting for the exhaustion to set in and for sleep to overcome you. But it didn't. Grumbling, you let your mind wander as you sat. Hopefully the mind wandering would tire you and you could get at least an hour of much-needed sleep. It jumped from thought to thought, wandering from something happy to something funny to something sad, and back again.

You couldn't help it when it came, though. The memories of what you'd seen on the battlefield so far. Nothing could amount to the tragedies. You didn't think anything ever could.

And then you looked up, and saw a man in a kraut uniform standing over you. Your heart skipped beats, pounding against your chest.

"Time to die, soldier." he sneered at you.

No. I refuse to die here. I refuse to die like this. He can't kill me here, in the literal lower ground

You aimed your rifle at the man, but before you could pull the trigger, a gunshot sounded and you sat up in your foxhole with a shriek.

It had all been a dream? How long had you slept? And when had you fallen asleep? The spot where the kraut had shot at you seemed to throb a little, and you rubbed it absentmindedly. You couldn't help but wonder if the gunshot was real. It certainly seemed so.

As if summoned by magic, Ron Speirs himself appeared above your foxhole.

"I heard you scream; are you okay?"

You didn't answer him, only pulled your blanket tighter around yourself.

"(Y/N)?" Ron immediately jumped in next to you.

"I'm tired." you whispered.

He nodded in understanding and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. You relished the warmth he gave off.

"I know, (Y/N), I know. Me, too."

"I'm just...so tired of it all. Day in, day out, we're stuck here, getting shelled. We're all miserable and cold. We're dying, and we can't do anything to stop it. The screams...I can always hear them crying out. We can't--I can't--"

Your words stuck in your throat; you couldn't get them out. You moved to rest your head on Ron's chest, over his heart, the steady beating of it like a beating drum. His heart drowned out the cries you always heard, grounding you and reminding you that you were still here, still in Ron's arms and not in the arms of Death.

"It's going to be okay, (Y/N)." Ron whispered as he tilted your head up and wiped the tears away. "I'll make sure of it."

You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch. Just for a moment, you could forget the war that raged on around you, you could forget the biting cold that made you wish you were back home in a warm bed.

"Come on, you're tired. Get some sleep." Ron pressed a kiss to your forehead.

You moved to rest your head on his shoulder. As you drifted off to sleep, the last words you heard from Ron echoed in your head and had you smiling in your sleep.

"You're my everything, (Y/N). And everything's going to be okay."