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Could you use prompt 52. “Don’t look at me like that.” And a foxhole kiss for Bill Hoosier Smith of the Pacific?

Sky Full Of Stars // Bill "Hoosier" Smith Imagine

AN: Long time since writing. I have definitely missed it. I might be a bit rusty but I hope ya'll enjoy. And I used to have a taglist, but I honestly lost track. So just comment if I should make a post for people to comment on, making a new taglist!

Word Count: 1,711

Y/N sat in the foxhole, staring up at the stars that remained in the sky above. Her mind was mostly blank at that moment. It was a rough day for all of the Marines. A lot of loss, a lot of hunger, and a lot of lost morale. It was war after all. But, Y/N couldn’t help but just stare at the sky and think of nothing. She would rather think of nothing than think about how much she was truly hating life at this moment. Hating how hungry she was. Hating how tired she was. Hating how sweaty, unclean, and hating the stretch that her nearly rotten uniform stunk of after days to months of wearing it with no opportunity to shower. So nothing was peaceful at the moment. The silence, well more like the absent sound of gunfire, bombs, or screaming, was peaceful.

The thought of nothing was quickly interrupted but a thud of boots hitting the dirt of the female’s foxhole. Blinking, snapping out of her quiet glance, her head snapped over to the sound of the thud. Quickly reaching and grabbing her rifle just out of spite.

“Hey! Easy now, L/N. It’s just me,” rang the voice. Once Y/N heard the voice, and her eyes adjusted to the Marine’s face whilst in the dark, the female Marine relaxed. It was just Mr. Bill Hoosier Smith, a close friend of hers within the company. The breath she held was now exhaled as she slowly released her tightened grip on her firearm. “See, that’s more like it,” the male spoke as he gently sat down across from her. Letting out a heavy sigh as his knees popped whilst he sat. Y/N just sat quietly in response, kind of just staring at Bill.

Bill eyed her closely. Well as well as he could in the near pitch black night. Y/N’s silence was something new that came over the female Marine. A once bubbly woman, who always had quick responses for every snarky remark, question, or sarcastic statement ever said to her. Always willing to share a cigarette with her group of friends and always willing to speak up or talk into late hours of the night. Now it was quiet, and closed off. He didn’t blame her, but was still a little surprised at the sudden change in character. Of course he, and a few others had questioned Y/N before. But was met with it being shrugged off her shoulders and no true answers. But Bill, being the man he was, wasn’t taking no for an answer this time. 

“Alright, I’m sick of this,” Bill started, after about five minutes of complete silence. While he was waiting for his female counterpart to say something. Anything at all. But nothing to his wishes. Y/N just looked at him, her face not changing at all. A blank, closed off stare. It was like Bill was looking at a stranger. 

“Sick of what?” She debuted. Not a change in face still. No raising eyebrows. Not even a hint of attitude. Just a straight, monotone voice. That grinded Bill’s gears. Her eyebrows knitted together. He wasn’t mad at her. Not at all. He could think of a billion reasons of why she was starting to act the way she was. For christ sakes they were in the middle of World War II! But that didn’t mean he wasn’t worried. And Bill Hoosier never showed himself worrying. 

“Seriously? Y/N, you have single handedly sectioned yourself away from our friends and I. And you haven’t even noticed. Or maybe you have,” Bill paused in his words. Hoping Y/N would say something. But she didn’t. Her eyes shifted. They became glossy for a moment he swore he saw. But she quickly blinked and turned her head away for a moment before turning her head back over to Hoosier. This time her eyes showed more frustration, more emotion. But yet, nothing left her mouth. No explanation, not even any questions. And that grinded Bill’s gears even more. “Don’t look at me like that!” he whisper-shouted. Careful not to alert any other Marines resting in other foxholes. 

Y/N’s eyes now definitely softened to the tone change. Her eyes become glossy once more. Now Bill was now frustrated, and highly confused. And that’s when Y/N’s eyes began to pour out tears. And a few stifled sobs left her lips.

To be truthful, Y/N had been slowly pulling herself away from everyone. Partially she herself noticed her actions, though partially she didn’t. More so, didn’t recognize how hard she actually was doing it. And now, all her emotions were coming up to the surface. Everything she had tried so hard to push down and away, was spilling over like a boiling pot. 

“I'm sorry,” was all that spilled out of her lips. Bill sat shocked as he watched the female’s tears quietly slide down her mud caked cheeks. Getting onto his knees and shuffling to her side of the foxhole, he placed a caring and comforting hand to her shoulder. Y/N leaned into his touch. “I just-” she started and then she stopped. Trying to contain her heavy emotions and get her thoughts in order before she tried to speak.

In her world, in her mind, she believed if she had closed herself off from anyone, it would protect her own well being. Y/N had seen so much loss in her service on the Japanese islands, so many men dying in such horrific ways. Watching friends be shot, blown up, or both. Seeing so much death, destruction, and sadness. She couldn't bear the sight, or even the idea, of her closest friends falling victim to this war. Especially Bill Hoosier Smith. Who she thought more than just a close friend, a fondness of feelings had grown whilst their time spent together. Foxholes shared, ducking for cover with each other, and one night in Australia that the pair shared that stayed between them and only them. Never to be spoken about, but the thought remained in both their minds ever since. But, Y/N thought that if she just separated herself from the group, especially from Bill; that if anything was to happen to any one of them, it wouldn’t cloud her mind. That it wouldn’t take over her wellbeing so bad that she couldn’t bear to see the end of war. That plan seemed great in the beginning. Until she realized that the isolation made her feel a billion times worse. It made her feel alone and scared. But she thought she was already far too far into her plan already to back out of it now.

“Look, you know I’m not one for all that emotional shit,” Bill paused. Turning his head to the side momentarily to try to process his words properly. Not only was he not good with anything with emotions; he also wasn’t the best with women either. “Just talk to me about it, or don’t- well do whatever you want to do. But stop kicking us, especially me, to the side. We miss you damn it,” Bill took another pause. Y/N finally looked up at him, stifling her quiet cries for just a moment. Taking a deep breath and locking eyes with the female Marine. “I fucking miss you, god damn it.”

It didn’t take Y/N a second thought before she grasped the sides of her dear friend’s face and planted her lips onto his. Bill’s eyes widened, but he quickly grabbed the side of her face as well. Gently squeezing it, as her messy hair stuck between his hands. 

Pulling away quickly Y/N looked at him, a few more tears rolling down her face. “I haven’t stopped missing you since that night we were in Australia,” she finally spilled. Her breathing became a bit more labored, and Bill just sat there staring at her. Still in a slight feeling of shock. “We brushed it off like it was nothing! And ever since then, and ever since things really started getting bad here. With all this death and dying happening all around us,” Y/N stopped to take a breath. Wiping a few stray tears that leaked from her eyes. “The thought of you had been clouding my judgment, making me make mistakes on the field. Which isn’t your fault, but I thought if I had just distanced myself and not thought of anything to do with you; my mind would clear up,” Glancing down at her hands and sucking in her bottom lip. “But it didn’t. I just couldn’t stop thinking about how much I missed you. And it was distracting me even more,” Placing her face in her hands and shaking her head. “God this is so embarrassing,” she muttered through her hands.

Bill was now a little shocked by the confession. Of course, he felt the same way. He was just some idiot Marine that didn’t know how to express his feelings in the slightest way. He thought if he just didn’t talk about it, the nagging thought would just go away. But clearly, that didn’t work for either of them. So now here they were, both sitting in silence. Bill just sat trying to figure out what he should say next.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Bill started, Y/N peaked up through her hands. Scratching the back of his head for a moment, with a soft sigh. “All I’ve thought about for the past few months has been how bad I wished we were back in Australia,” taking another deep breath. Pausing just for a second longer. “And I wished it was just you and me back home in Indiana. Out of all this mess,” he stated. Scooting himself to sit besides her. Resting his elbows on his knees and staring up at the black sky full of stars.

Y/N sat up and rested her head on his shoulder. “We can do that. After all this,” she whispered. Now also looking up at the stars. Bill looked back down at the woman and a small smile formed on his lips. 

“Alright then, Corporal L/N. You got yourself a deal.”

[eugenesmorphine]

I was wondering maybe a titan shifter reader, like season 1 ish era, and Jean? Angst like he sees reader die and get eaten by a titan, and the entire titan thing like Eren? If that makes sense? I haven’t asked a request in so long I’m rusty lol

Just Another Suicidal Maniac

A/N: SO glad someone requested Jean right off the bat because I'm slowly entering my Jean-girlie era and I'm down bad y'all.

Rating: PG13

Warnings: angst, major-character death, gore

"You seriously worry too much." You dusted off your pants as you stood up, grateful that the only damage done by your rough landing was a couple of bruises and scrapes.

Jean, who was in the middle of said worrying, didn't bother to inspect himself first before giving you a once-over with his wide, brown eyes. "Worry? Me?" Jean mocked before gesturing out wildly to the chaos around the two of you with his ODM blade—Titans roamed the streets freely, hunting the many scouts leaping from rooftop to rooftop. "Wonder what I could possibly be worried about?"

"We've made it out of worse situations than this," you reminded him. "You always do this, you know. You have a tendency to let your imagination run wild and assume the worst possible scenarios."

"I like to be prepared for the worst." He pulled you behind a chimney with him to avoid being seen by a passing Titan. Once the Titan had stumbled out of range, he crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. "Sue me for caring, I guess," he muttered under his breath.

You couldn't help but chuckle. "I appreciate that you care." You held onto the soft moment while you had the chance—these days, they were rare. "I want you to worry about yourself though. If you got injured, or god-forbid killed, because you were worrying about me and not yourself, I'd never be able to forgive myself."

Jean's harsh gaze softened. "That's not-"

"Is that what you want? You want me to live as a guilt-stricken widow?"

"Okay, first of all," Jean rolled his eyes, "you've always told me that if I die, it'll be because of my own stupidity, so don't go acting like you think otherwise now. Secondly, we're not married so you wouldn't be a widow."

"Oh, so now you're gonna die and revoke my widow status."

Jean groaned. "How about I just don't die at all?"

You smiled. "I think that's a good plan."

"Armin!" You both gasped at the same time.

Before either one of you had the chance to draw out the sappy-yet-lighthearted moment any longer, a scream rang out in the distance. The both of you shared a look when you recognized the voice. Only one person was capable of emitting such a shrill cry for help.

Jumping out from behind the relative safety of the chimney, you surveyed the terrain in the direction of the scream. A few smaller Titans who were just barely taller than the surrounding buildings were ambling about, swiping at the air in a desperate attempt to swat the soaring scouts out of the air.

Without even checking to see if Jean was behind you or not—you just assumed he was based on experience fighting together—you fired your ODM tethers into the nearest building and took off toward your distressed friend.

"Don't worry. I'll handle it." Jean flashed a smirk before looping his hands under the girl and lifting her into his arms. He tried to play off the way he stepped back ever-so-slightly to counteract being thrown off balance but both you and Armin noticed.

When you arrived to the scene, you spotted Armin in a narrow alley slashing his blade back and forth at the Titan hand reaching for him. Behind Armin, the unconscious body of a fellow scout—a girl you didn't quite recognize—laid in the shadows. Thankfully for them, the alley was just narrow enough that the only part of the Titan able to fit was its arm; and it's arm wasn't quite long enough to reach.

Dropping down into the alley, you and Jean quickly assessed the situation. "Thank goodness you're here." Armin breathed a sigh of relief and knelt down beside the girl. "I found her unconscious in the street. I was able to drag her in here but I'm too weak to lift her out of here on my own."

"If you try to use your ODM gear with her in your arms you'll both be splatting into the nearest window like a bug," you told him matter-of-factly. "I'll distract the Titan, you and Armin get her out of here on foot."

"That's probably the best-" Armin wasn't able to finish his thought before Jean interjected.

"Are you crazy?" Jean furrowed his brows. "You're starting to sound like Eren and we don't need two suicidal maniacs in the 104th."

Hands on your hips, you eyed him. "You're worrying again, dear Jean. Unless you have a better plan than this is what we're doing."

"Well if you'd give me a minute I'm sure I could come up with something better."

"Not to rush you guys or anything, but I don't think she has a minute." Armin looked down at the unconscious girl and pointed out the blood that was now visibly seeping through her shirt. "She's losing a lot of blood."

"It would be safer if you skipped the killing part and just looped back around after we were safe," Jean said.

Turning your back on the others, you stepped toward the Titan hand just close enough that its large fingers grasped at the air less than a meter in front of your body. "Then it's settled. My plan it is." You scoped out the area the best you could from your position. "I'll go up to the roof and lure the Titan to the right. If I remember the formations correctly, you guys should be able to meet up with Levi's squad if you turn left. From there, you guys can get this girl help and I can loop back around after I've killed this big guy."

"And leave him to devour someone else? No thanks."

One day you would die and it would be a real shame if you hadn't taken every opportunity to truly live beforehand.

Jean opened his mouth to protest some more but by the time the thought had reached the tip of his tongue, you were already on the roof. You forced a quick smile down at the two boys before stepping to the edge of the shingles. You weren't stupid—you knew this plan was risky and dangerous, but that was what you had signed up for when you made the tough decision to join the cadets and then the scouts. As far as you were concerned, the definition of living was the continued decision to keep going in the face of a world full of risky and dangerous decisions.

Gripping the handle of your ODM blade hard, you began to bang it against the edge of the shingles at your feet. "Hey, big guy!" You shouted to direct the Titan's attention to yourself. "Why waste your time with them when I'm so much easier to grab?"

"Game on."

At first, the Titan was much more interested in the three grounded scouts over the single one above it. But then, it seemed to re-assess the situation and conclude that you were right. As soon the Titan's soulless, buggy eyes had locked onto you, you smirked.

As the Titan's hand reached out to grab you, you jumped out of the way at the last second. With the Titan fully committed to the chase now, you took off toward the right.

Jumping from building to building, you had to be careful not to stumble with the unsteady footing beneath you; the shingles on the rooves were old and slightly loose, and every time the Titan's hand slammed into the roof behind you in attempt to capture its prey, you had to re-steady yourself.

Glancing back over your shoulder for a brief moment, you were pleased to see that Jean and Armin had almost carried the girl all the way to the end of the street in the opposite direction. With a triumphant smile on your face and the belief that the plan was going to be a success, you began mapping out the area and deciding how best to maneuver killing this Titan when the time came. Your plan, however, was a foolish one plagued by one major rookie mistake; you had forgotten to account for the fact that there was never just one Titan to deal with.

As you fired your ODM tethers into a building across the street, you failed to survey the ground below you before stepping off the ledge. One second, you were gliding easily through the air and the next, a smaller Titan had leapt up from the street, mouth snapping shut. There was a blinding pain in your right leg and when your instincts kicked in, you shot yourself away from the Titan.

Without the capacity to plan any further ahead than getting out of immediate danger, you soon found yourself smacking against the cobblestone street hard due to not tethering yourself to another building in your attempt to escape.

What you felt was the paralyzing inability to save yourself.

You cried out as your body skidded against the ground a meter or so before slowing to a stop. Your vision was blurry from hitting your head a couple of times but when you looked down to assess the damage, you felt your blood run cold at the absence of your right foot.

A puddle of bright red blood was quickly pooling from your fresh stump and all ability to think critically had gone out the window. Shock had frozen you in place so much so that you didn't even notice the Titan approaching you or Jean screaming your name until it was too late. You knew you should get up and try your hardest to get out of there; that no matter how futile the attempt, you had to at least try. But right then, what you knew and what you felt were two vastly different things.

Jean, who was about to watch you die.

Eyes slowly travelling up to the Titan looming over you, you suddenly wished you had listened to Jean. Jean, who only ever looked out for your best interest because he truly cared about you. Jean, who put on an act in front of everyone else but let his true personality shine when it was just the two of you. Jean, who was standing at the other end of the street, screaming your name over and over again while Armin held him back from throwing away his life to save yours.

You didn't fight it when the Titan squeezed its fingers around your torso and lifted you from the ground. Accepting your fate, you closed your eyes and tried to focus on not screaming. Your last thought—the one interrupted by the sudden, all-consuming agony of dying—was that you hoped Jean wouldn't life the rest of his life as a guilt-stricken widower.

As the fear slowly started to wash away, replaced by an unnerving sense of calm, you averted your gaze from the Titan and instead decided to spend your last moment alive staring into the brown eyes of the horse-faced boy you fell in love with. You couldn't muster the strength to say anything—you weren't able to decide what you wanted your last words to be even if you could—so instead you raised your right fist over your heart in a salute and smiled.

━━━━━

Your consciousness felt familiar and yet different. You were still you, there was no denying that, but you were also someone else; something else.

Awareness assaulted your senses in an almost cruel fashion. After embracing the comforting finality of death, a sudden return to the land of the living was brutal. You wondered if this was why babies cried right after being born. Then you wondered why you were able to wonder anything at all.

There was no pain, but if you were alive again—or at the very least, not quite dead yet—you should have been overcome with pain.

Standing at full height, you towered above the buildings around you. Your legs were weak and exhaustion gnawed away at your limbs but compared to everything else, the concern of being tired was tucked deep into the back of your mind. Looking down at yourself, you felt confused but not necessarily startled by the sight of patches of pure muscle where skin should have been. Piecing together all the information you had gathered, you were drawn to only one conclusion.

When you finally decided to open your eyes and face whatever reality was waiting for you, you were greeted with a perspective you were not accustomed to. The world around you was smaller than you remembered, and when you placed your hands underneath yourself to stand up, they were larger than you knew they should be. You were larger than you should be.

You were a Titan-shifter.

First suicidal maniac tendencies and now this; Jean was right, you were more like Eren than you thought.

Jean.

Looking over to where Jean and Armin had been when you last saw them, you were slightly surprised to see them still standing there. You didn't know how much time had passed between your technical death and now, but the horrified looks on their faces hadn't changed at all. You knew they knew what had happened to you after experiencing the same phenomenon with Eren but their shock and terror made it seem like this was the first time they had ever seen a human turn into a Titan.

Then again, you supposed the shock and terror could have come from watching you die and then immediately watching you turn into a monster. That was something that would take some getting used to no matter the circumstances.

You wished you could speak to Jean, assure him that you were okay, but like Eren's Titan you were non-verbal. You opened your mouth and the only thing that emerged was a soft, defeated growl.

Despite that, Jean's eyes softened the way they only did when he was looking at you. Then his gaze shifted and the terror returned. When you followed his eye line, you spotted the same smaller Titan that had bitten your foot off running down the street toward Jean, Armin, and the still unconscious girl.

As the Titan darted past you, completely ignoring you in favour of the easy human targets, a new kind of instinct took over. Without even thinking about it—the only thought being protecting the people you cared about—you kicked the smaller Titan hard, sending it flying into the side of a nearby building. When the Titan still showed signs of life, you reached down and grabbed its head with your much larger hand. Letting out a blood-curdling screech, you called upon every last ounce of strength you had left and bit into the nape of its neck. Once you were sure it was dead, you tore the the Titan's head from its body and dropped the remains to your feet.

Looking back over at Armin and Jean to confirm their safety, your knees buckled beneath you. Drained of energy, the last thing you saw before your Titan body slumped forward was Jean rushing toward you.

"Before you accuse me of worrying too much, might I remind you that I literally just watched you die." Jean's voice was urgent yet gentle in your ear.

When your human body emerged from the nape of your Titan form's neck, your lungs reacted as if you had just resurfaced after being underwater and you drew in a deep, gasping breath. Hot steam billowed around you and as your spent body began to flop over. Before you fell, two strong arms wrapped around you from behind.

"Oh, Jean." You let yourself relax into his embrace. "I'm so sorry."

Jean hugged you tight and buried his face in the crook of your neck. "Don't apologize. Don't you ever apologize for coming back to me."

[eugenesmorphine]

It's my 7 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳

This is so crazy that it has been seven years. Thank you all for your amazing support throughout the years. I love you all!!❤️❤️❤️

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being the flop mutual is hard work but someone's gotta do it

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oh my goodness are you SunflowerThot on wattpad??

I am not active on her or wattpad as much as I used to be, I am in nursing school so it is tough, but I do plan to come back more. But that is me, I am SunflowerThot on wattpad, I don’t know if I changed it over on that to Eugene’s morphine, I primarily write on her now. :)

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Me about men that were literally real people

me about a man who isn't real: they don't make men like this anymore

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Me getting ready to sign up for the military and getting ready to enlist - :)

Also me when I realize I will not be able to get hugs from my mom when I demand them - :(

I am aware that it doesn’t seem tough. I promise I am I just like my mom hugs so sue me

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"fuck you, my child is fine!"

your child is reading fanfictions about self-insert main character and portrayals of real life soldiers to feel loved and important.

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This is genuinely one of my favorite moments of generation kill

ALEXANDER SKARSGÅRD IN GENERATION KILL

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Livin’ The Brotherhood // A Generation Kill Fanfic

AN: The lovely, lovely chapter three. I hope you readers enjoy. I don’t know if I want to add my taglist onto this. I might but I might not. If anyone wants to be tagged on future chapters, which there will be plenty of coming, just let me know. Enjoy the chapter :)

  Chapter 3: The Conquering Heroes

The Humvees bounced and rocked slightly as the tires rolled over the bridge on into the city. Running over rocks and small boulders. Ray popped open a bottle of Ripped Fuel and dumped maybe about six pills into his mouth. Swallowing them almost instantly. Brad looked over at him from watching his sector, sighing heavily.

 "Careful with the Ripped Fuel," he warned, going back to watch his sector. Ray huffed, using one hand to steer and the other grab a water bottle  unscrewing the cap off with his teeth. Wright sat in the back, watching the man, a bewildered look on his face.

 "Fuck man. I'm on thirty hours no sleep. Beat the record I made in high school when I was on the debate team," Ray spit out his words so fast it was hard to even understand him. Kyra scoffed while the scribe just gave him a questioning look.

 "Wait, a minute," he started having Ray turn to look at him. "You were on the debate team?" Ray nodded, looking back the road. The Comms were beeping on and off.

 "Yeah, I was really really fucking good, but all the other guys on the team thought I was high all of the time," Kyra rolled her eyes in annoyance. She was just tired, sore, and kind of hungry. And Ray and his hyped up antics weren't really helping.

 "Shut up Ray," both Kyra and Brad said at the same time. She huffed and looked out the window. "Brad, I'm going to sit on the top of the Humvee next to Walt. I can't watch a sector with the Reporter in the way," before Brad could even respond she was climbing up besides Walt and sitting pretty much behind the turret shield. Ray glanced back at Wright and just looked back at the road. Brad just pressed his lips together into a thin line.

 "Shit," Ray cursed as the line of Humvees drove through the town. the tires rolling straight through a mixture of blood from the dead Iraqis and some dead Marines that littered the area mixed with gas and engine fluid from the blown up and shot up trucks all around. "Fucking tranny fluid from the Amtrac." Ray just looked at the bodies and the puddles of the red and black mixed liquids. Trombley looked out his window, almost amazed or in awe at the god awful sights he was seeing. Kyra and Walt just tried not to look. Just trying to keep an eye on the surroundings. Making sure no Hajis were trying to shoot at them.

 "Keep your eyes on the road Ray," Brad piped up. Glancing at Trombley, slightly disturbed at the look of almost amusement on his face. "It's nothing Trombley," he just turned to look at the Sergeant. The look of aggravation etched onto his features as he glared slightly. A sigh left the Sergeant's lips as he turned his head back to his weapon.

 Soon, after Baptista stopped speaking Portuguese over the Comms, complaining about some of the Marine antics higher ups pull, and watching friendlies light up more Iraqis while the groups drove through, all the vehicles came to a stop. "Hey Sarge! Why we stopped?" Kyra called from the top of the Humvee. Sticking her head down to look at the man in the passenger seat. Wright chuckled seeing the woman practically upside down. He glanced back at her. Captain America was already heard on the Comms, freaking out for the Marines to be at a stop.

 "Orders. Raptors  cas-evacting a Marine from the RCT." Brad replied, looking back at the female. Who just nodded and pulled herself back up onto the top of the Humvee. All they could now here was Captain America shouting on the Comms. Ray groaned out in annoyance, while the three others within the Humvee showed on their faces that they clearly felt the same.

 "I am so sick of Captain America spazzing out on our Comms," Ray spoke, holding the bridge of his nose. And with that, almost immediately, the infamous Captain was back on the Communication line. Yelling about the same shit he had been yelling about every other time he was on the Comms. That the Marines could be ambushed easily in this position. Which everyone already knew, and already knew they could do nothing about it. So everyone was just stuck listening the a god awful platoon leader.

The sound of AK47 fire could be heard. Causing everyone to jump and get at the ready. Though, Ray just huffed. "It's Captain America, he has a motherfucking AK. And think there isn't any returning fire, and there is only one AK," Ray spoke looking around at all the uneasy Marines within the Humvee. Soon, they were back on the move and out of the town. Kyra hopped back down between the Marines in the back and Ray drove throughout the lasting of the town and they were right back on the road.

 "Sergeant, I didn't get to shoot," Trombley whined. Kyra looked at him and raised a brow while Ray just scoffed and chuckled sarcasticlly.

 "That fucking sucks, Trombely. Your recruiting officer tell you that you get to shoot people?" He asked, wanting to drill into the Marine seated behind his seat.

 "Fucking, yeah he did," James huffed as he held his weapon close to him.

 "Trombley asked about shooting people. I asked about pussy. The guy told me I'd get to go to Thailand, get all different kind of strange," Kyra just made a slight disgusted face at his talk. I mean, she was a woman, and Ray talking about all different kinds of pussy he would get or wants to get can get a little gross. "What did you ask about, Brad? Oh I know, Brad probably saw that TV commercial- the one with the knight who fucks up the dragon then turns into the Marine Dress blues with a sword. That fucking dress-blue commercial, man, that got so many fucking guys. Now look at us! Trombley hasn't killed anybody. I am a half a world away from good Thai pussy and Colbert is out here rolling around Fuck butt, Iraq. Hunting for dragons in a Mopp suit that smells like four days of piss and balls sweat," Wright was left in total awe by Corporal Person's long rant. Kyra was left giggling in  that back, a hand clapped over her lips to silence them. Brad sat looking out his window, a small grin on his face. Oh, but Ray wasn't exactly done yet. "You should have rolled into battle with a sword, Brad. That would've fucking rocked. Say, Kyra, what made you join the Marines?" he asked, glancing behind at the girl with a small smile.

 "My ex-boyfriend was a Marine. Reservist to be exact. He told me I should join the Marines. That way I could get good benefits and we could see each other more often. Although, when I told him I wanted to go active duty and go recon, he bitched and moaned. Then went and fucked my best friend when I was in basic training. Fucking reservist," She spoke, chuckling slightly. Brad turned and looked at her.

 "You dated a reservist, and then listened to him when telling you to join the Marines?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Kyra's cheeks reddened slightly whilst she nodded. Brad chuckled and turned back around. "Double negative there then Corporal," she just stayed silent.

 "We almost got married too, he proposed before I went to Boot Camp. He sent me letters throughout the time, telling me how much he missed me and how excited he was to get married. Then, when graduation came, he never showed up. I thought he might've missed his flight," she started. Everyone silently listening, it was really the first time Kyra ever talked about something having to do with her life before she joined the Marines. Or anything about her in general. She began fiddling with her M16 as she spoke. Unloading the clip then slamming it back in. Anger flooded her body just thinking about the man. "That was until I took my weeks leave, went home, and when I took a cab back to my own apartment that he moved into after he didn't pick up the phone. I walked into my house after seeing my best friend since Kindergarten's car parked in my driveway. I of course thought nothing of it until I walked into my house and didn't see either of them. Until I walked to my bedroom door and opened it. They were in the middle of fucking. Doggy style," she chuckled sadly. Brad looked back at her, along with Ray. Their eyes held remorse. When it came to any other person when they talked about a Dear John or cheating story, they could probably give a rat's ass. But the men cared about the female Marine a little more than any other of the Marines. It was hard for them to explain.

  The female continued fiddling with her rifle as she continued speaking. "I remember the look of pure and utter shocks on their faces. I was in my Blues and I remember just standing there. I wasn't sad at first. I wasn't angry. Just shocked. He immediately jumped up, dick out while the bitch covered herself in my blankets. Laying in my bed still. I just looked at him and then back at her. I ripped her fucking extensions right out of her fucking head. Broke her nose to. She ran out of my house, wearing his USMC shirt while he was trying to apologize. I grabbed a bottle of whine and dumped it all over his Dress Blues and then threw his TV out of a window. Kicked his ass out the next day. Five years out the window. I had been with him since the eighth grade. Now I was twenty and had nothing but the Marines. And look! Went to recon school, and now I'm here! With a battalion of my favorite people," everyone had a slight shocked expression on their faces. It was like all that was a joke to her. That it wasn't a huge dent in her life like it would be to most people. That is what kind shocked them the most. Like most men, they assumed women were much more emotional. Especially about relationships and their drama. But nope, not Kyra.

   Ray just mouthed 'holy shit' to himself. Brad looked back at her, she had a smile on her face. "Learned to never date a reservist again," was all she said before putting her magazine clip back into her weapon, a loud click was all that was heard in the Humvee. Wright just sat there, looking at her, scribbling into his notebook.

 "Damn girl, now I know never mess with you. I need my extensions!" Ray chimed, trying to make her feel better. She glanced up at him and smiled a little wider.

 "I don't need your pity men! That shit happened like four, five years ago! Now I'm like four years in the Corps, when I get back I'm getting ranked to Sergeant," she reassured.  "I'm moving up in the world besides dating some reservist Private," she laughed slightly. Brad turned to her.

 "When did you get told you were being promoted to Sergeant, Corporal?" asked the Sergeant. She grinned and leaned back against Walt's legs.

 "LT pulled me aside. He asked if I wanted to be promoted in fucking Iraq. But that would mean I would be put in some other battalion or some dumb shit like that. And I didn't want that. I want to stay in this battalion, in this team until I either die in this shit or after this war ends. What would I do without my boys?" She shrugged.

 "Oorah!" called Walt from the turret. Kyra looked up at him and laughed. Brad smiled and turned back to watch the road in front of him. A warm feeling filling his chest which he tried to ignore. But just the thought of the female having the choice to leave the battalion so easily and it would actually help her. Though, she decided to stay to be with her closest friends she had ever had, just made that warm feeling grow.

///

  After a quick pit stop for higher in Command and team leaders to discuss some mapping and that was it. Right back on the Iraqi roads. Sometimes bodies and destroyed military and or Iraqi cars lined the sides of the paved roadways. Their bodies torn up from bullets from all different types of guns. Everyone stayed frosty, knowing that RPG teams could be anywhere at the looks of it.

 Time passed listening to Ray's rants about how tired, hungry, horny, whatever he is. His rants can go for a long ass time if someone was to let him talk that much. But most people are smarter than that. Quickly, as the line of vehicles drove down the road, bodies and destroyed vehicles became more common and close together. Though, these ones were different this time.

 "Oh, get some! Look at that truck," Trombley exclaimed. Sounding like a rather excited child seeing the destroyed and on fire military truck and Iraqi cars and vans as they racked up the roads. Some holding burning carcasses of whatever or whoever sat within it. "Oh, it's like a Halloween fun house."

 Kyra kept an eye on the dead bodies that were scattered over the ground, and soon most of us came to realize that most of the bodies, if not all, were civilians. So many women and children with bullet holes torn straight through them. They didn't even have a chance. No weapons of any kind were to be seen. The female in the Humvee pressed her lips together and sighed slightly. What has this war became.

  Her grip on her M16 tightened as her gaze went from her left to her right. And coming into view was the body of dead Iraqi girl. She couldn't have been more than seven. Her eyes widened as the image came closer, clearer to see. Her legs had been blown off. Blood all around her. Kyra just immediately looked away after her breath hitched, whilst everyone else within the Humvee kept looking, and Wright took a picture. His eyes not leaving the girl's lifeless body as the vehicle drove past. A look of confusion, disgust, and utter shock rested on his face. The reporter stared blankly in front of him, his mouth slightly agape. Probably wondering what the absolute fuck did he get himself in now.

 "Well, well, well! Who's the sicko in the Humvee now? The psycho ass Jarheads? Or the fucking Liberal media looking for a little exploitation?" Ray just didn't know when to shut his mouth did he?

 "She's dead, there isn't anything we can do," Brad sighed. Everyone stayed silent. Well except Brad who was being harsh on him for the fact for taking a photo of the dead girl. It was hard to tell if he was joking or not. Maybe even both. Kyra just shook her head and kept her head down. Trying her best to shake out that mental picture. While Ray was ranting, and Wright and Trombley were busy staring out their windows. Brad took a moment to look in the small rear view mirror at the female in the back seat. He sighed slightly as he returned to his sector.

 "Stay frosty, Marines."

///

"All Hitman Two Victors, this is Hitman Two. Be advised the report of an enemy gas attack was again in error," LT called on the comms. Kyra grunted as she didn't listen to whatever Brad responded to on the rest of the comms with our Lieutenant. She pulled off her gas mask and pulled down the hood of her Mopp suit. Throwing her head back with a heavy and loud sigh. Pulling off the rest of her gas protectent gear along with the rest of the men within the Humvee.

 "This fucking sucks. How many fucking gas attack errors can the Marines fucking make?" Kyra hissed. Leaning backwards as Ray turned to look at her. Holding up his one white glove on his hand. His gas mask resting on top of his head.

 "Hello everybody, I'm Michael Jackson," She raised a brow and shook her head, laughing slightly at Ray's attempt with the high voice and as he spit dip all over himself. You know, the usual. Ray turned his focus to the road in front of him. The reporter huffed from his seat as he had a slightly troubling time pulling his gloves off.

 "This is fucking miserable," the civilian grumbled, puffing out his cheeks and blowing air out.  Kyra shook her head slightly and looked down, placing her Kevlar back on top of her head and clicking on the chin strap. Ray whipped around quickly to face the reporter.

  "Yeah, but we get to invade a whole fucking country dude," he responded in a more 'matter of fact' tone. The female in the middle just scoffed. Still not gripping the fact that all these guys wanted to kill, destroy, and just be in a war like this. She pressed her lips together and just kept looking forward.

 "At this point, I sometimes I wish Saddam would gas us already, it'll make the all shit with these Mopp suits worth it," huffed Brad as he lifted his gas mask off and pulled off his gloves. Quickly picking up his gun and watching his sector. Kyra chuckled and nodded as she continued pulling off her gloves. The sweat on her hands causing the fabric to stick to her skin almost like a suction cup.

 "It would justify the invasion," added Wright, who just sighed. Ray just scoffed and spit some of his dip filled spit out onto his lap once again.

 "There's no doubt Saddam's got chemicals. It's just you liberal dick sucks who try to pick everything apart," he hissed, not even needing to turn around to know that Wright lowered and shook his head slightly in defeat.

 Brad's attention was quickly grasped from the men and woman's short conversation's within his vehicle when a pair of men were spotted about nine hundred meters out. He quickly lifted up his M4A1 Carbine and looked down his sights. Peering out into the desert. The female in the backseat noticed the man's actions and looked out into the same direction she was. But, as it is with her glasses that go along with her poor eye sight, she couldn't see jack shit.

 "Foot mobiles. Two-O'clock," spoke the Sergeant, his view still glued onto the moving, confirmed Iraqis out such a ways away. In which the Corporal in the seat besides him quit his antics and quickly jumped on the Comms to inform the higher ups of their Sergeant's finds. Whilst Rolling Stone began with his questions. Though, he didn't get far since Kyra raised her hand in telling him to stop speaking. He quickly got the idea and clamped his mouth shut, looking at the woman as she squinted to see the two very blurry objects that moved probably a good couple thousand feet away.

 "Shut up, Reporter. I'm trying to focus," she spoke as she proceeded to lean over Wright. Honestly, with being the only female surrounded by seventy plus males, it was understandable to grow comfortable and used to just doing whatever with the guys. But, sometimes she forgot where she was, or who someone was, like Evan Wright, who actually isn't a Marine she knew for years. So when the woman just leaned over him, planting a hand on his knee, he leaned back, cheeks reddening and his hands retracting as Kyra leaned to look out the window. Trombley looked over and laughed.

 Shortly after, Brad along with Lieutenant Fick called the line of Humvees to a halt. Every Marine scrambling out of their Vehicles, grabbing their weapons to look out into the desert. Waiting for their orders as Sergeant Colbert and Lieutenant Fick observed what was assumed to be an RPG team. Wright looked over to the female Corporal, a questioning look on his face.

 "Uh, Corporal Bisset, why aren't they shooting at them yet? Isn't that an RPG team? They could fire any minute!" the woman chuckled, a toothpick between her teeth as she chewed on it. Looking over at him with her arms crossed.

 "Sometimes, War Scribe, I forget you are just a civilian," shaking her head she paused for a second. "US Marines have to be given permission to engage unless told other wise. And our screwed up leaders keep switching things up. Mr. Brad Colbert wasn't a hundred percent sure it was an RPG team. If anything those could be civilians just checking us out, as you see a lot of Iraqis are happy to liberated by us. Or they could be an RPG team trying to blow all us into pieces like a goddamn firework. One thing many learn fast is that once you fire a bullet, you can't take it back. A lot of things nowadays can lead to being a war crime, and the United States Military can't have that on their precious conscience."

 Wright just stood there, kind of understanding her words, but also not. There was a lot happening in a short time, and for someone non-military, it was a lot. The Reporter just nodded, looking back in front of him.  Kyra went and walked up besides the Sergeant and Lieutenant. Squinting her eyes, trying to see what they were looking at, pretty much ignoring their entire conversation. Through the slight blur, she could see some sort of tube and heads bobbing.

 "Hey, I know my eye sight is shit, but I'm pretty sure I see an RPG tube and two heads bobbing," she spoke. Looking up at the two taller men. Brad took his eye out of his weapon's sights and looked down at her. Fick looked around Brad to stare at her. The Sergeant looked back down his sights for a second then looked at the Lieutenant.

 "I see them too, but I'm not hundred percent sure that there is an RPG tube," Fick nodded and stared out into the desert. Observing the Iraqis in meters and meters away. "But I'm sure they're putting optics on us."

  The Officer turned towards the parked Humvees and panned around for a moment. "Pappy, Reyes, get the M-40 and punch out that berm," he called out. And like lightening, the sniper team grabbed their M-40 and ran out. Laying on their stomachs and getting into position.

 "Hell yeah!" The female whispered excitedly. One of her best friends was getting some, that was enough to make her happy. Brad glanced down at her out of the corner of his eye, a small smirk curling on the side of his lips. Quickly focusing himself back on the RPG team through his gun's sights.

 Not even five minutes after being cleared to engage, the two Iraqis were down. And they were indeed an RPG team. Rudy and Pappy stood up and Kyra jogged over to them whilst everyone was collecting themselves to get back in the Humvees.

 "That shit was awesome! I wish my vision wasn't so fucked up so I could get a better view," she cheered, reaching to pat her friend's shoulders. Rudy smiled down at her and chuckled. Pappy was busy taking the rifle back to the Humvee, leaving the Sergeant to scoop up his scope.

"You know my dear Kyra, I would keep a look out for Iceman's eye. He is been staring a lot recently," he stood up and looked down at the female. Who just raised an eyebrow and made a retorting face. "Don't look to fast, but he is doing it right now, and I don't even think he realizes he is doing it."

 The Corporal's head slowly turned around, and sure as hell, her eyes met with Sergeant Colbert's. She smiled and waved playfully. His view just darted to the side. And she could've bet everything that she saw his cheek flush with red. But, she thought maybe it was her eyes playing tricks on her. She turned back to her good pal Rudy who just gave a shit eating grin, with an 'I Told You So' look before walking back to his Humvee. Leaving the woman standing there, confused as all hell. Kyra shook her head and let out a heavy sigh, turning around and walking towards her Humvee.

///

 Like usual, the Battalion was right back onto the road. The dusty, dirt back roads of Iraq now. Passing through some small villas while many cheered for the American Marines that drove past them. Holding up crying and screaming babies swaddled up in blankets, yelling broken English. They were grateful for the American's, it was a small moral booster for some Marines, and the rest could give a shit.

 Brad's Humvee were the lead of the pack of Humvees and trucks behind them. The Battalion commander had given them the order to take a small dirt road to the left. Which, being the good, hard working Marines that follower orders they were, they took the sketchy road. Seeming quite odd that instead of staying on the main road they were turning off onto a separate dirt road that was surrounded by overgrown grass. But, Encino man was in charge for all of these men and singular woman, he was put in charge for a reason. Right?

 "I smell of goddamn Charms," Colbert's voice boomed within the moving box of metal. Glancing behind him at Trombley. Who had turned his face and spit out the small piece of candy out of his mouth and somewhere onto the Iraqi soil somewhere. Wright took the time to scoop out the Charm sitting in his mouth and throw it out of his window. Kyra sat back and chuckled. Leaning against Walt's legs. A slight smirk on her lips.

 "Sorry, Sergeant. I had one left," Trombley said, leaning against the window. Pouting. The Sergeant just turned back and watched out his sector. All was quiet for a few seconds before  the Marine sitting behind the drivers seat spoke up once more. "You know what sucks?" Kyra and the Reporter was grasped by the question. Turning their heads to peer over at the seemingly bewildered Marine. "All those dead bodies we seen today, and I didn't get to shoot any of them," Wright just made a face of confusion, disgust, and the utter idea of creeped out. The female besides him just pressed her lips together and shook her head slightly. Looking back out to the dirt road in front of her.

 "I see foot-mobiles. 12 o'clock, 100 meters," Ray called. Trombley piped up, gripping his fire arm, ready to kill. Per usual. Corporal Bisset leaned herself forward, between the driver and passenger seat just to get a better view. About three Iraqi women stood, one with a basket, filling it with what seemed to be some reeds. "Damn!" The driver exclaimed, popping off his chin strap of his helmet and tossing it to the side. Quickly slipping his gold-rimmed pimp sunglasses onto his face with a huge smirk on his face. "Brad, they're fucking hotties! I didn't know Hajis could be hotties. I thought they were all camel-faced hags!" Kyra let out a laugh, her hand flying to her mouth while Brad chuckled. Her eyes traveled to the women. She was astonished of the bright colors of their traditional clothing, they were in fact beautiful. The entire culture was beautiful to the woman. It was so complex and everything had so much meaning. Compared to what the rest of the men thought about this country and the people along with their culture, it was much different. Even within all the chaos, it was a beautiful country and culture in her eyes.

 Hey! As-Salamu Alaykum ladies," Ray called out to the giggling Iraqi ladies, who were using their head scarves to cover their blushing and smiling faces as the scrawny Marine laid onto the horn. The reporter smiled as we drove by. "Damn, homie. Better than when I was in my band!" he exclaimed happily.

 "'Cause they haven't heard you play," Sergeant Colbert responded. A smile on his face as his eyes returned to his sector.

 Kyra sat, still staring at the vibrant and beautiful colors of their Iraqi women's clothing. "Those clothes are beautiful. It makes me wish sometimes that I wasn't wearing the same sweaty ass mopp suit and utilities everyday," she spoke. Ray chuckled and kept his eyes on the road.

 "They are just colorful pajamas, Kyra. They were the same shit everyday. I'm surprised they aren't making those girls cover their faces like the rest of their people," the driver scoffed. Kyra just rolled her eyes and sat back against Walt's legs. Sighing heavily while she crossed her arms.

 "Is there a need for you to be so negative all the time, Ray?" She huffed, though with a small smile on her lips. Ray just spit his dip and looked into the rear view mirror, right at the female Marine.

 "I wouldn't say negative. I would like to say constructive criticism from a white American that just so happens to be invading and liberating their country. Besides, I'm only stating facts!" Kyra rolled her eyes at the response and just shook her head once more. Focusing back on the dirt road in front her.

///

  It was all going fine, no problems just yet. No Iraqis shooting at the Marines. Smooth sailing for what seemed to be close to an hour. That was until the dirt road in front of us randomly came to a stop. There was no bridge. Just grass.

 Sergeant Colbert climbed out of the Humvee mumbling, 'Mother fucker' beneath his breath as he took in the surroundings and the brand new problem. They were just never ending weren't they?

 The Marines left within the Sergeant's Humvee were just as upset. Now understanding that with this fuck up, they were put into the back of the damn operation. Once again under the mistake of the officers in charge. Ray was definitely voicing his opinion on the matter, as like any time.

 "Once again, thanks to fucking Captain Encino Man, were are now in deeper shit than we already were. I can't believe this fucking shit, man. It is hot as balls, I am swimming in sweat in a Mopp suit that smells like a fucking rotting corpse. Haven't even been able to properly shoot and kill some Haji fucks. And now here we are, sitting in some shit box Humvee, in the middle of East Bum-Fuck, at a dead end road," he rambled on and on.

 You couldn't really tell, but Corporal Bisset was getting more and more agitated by the minute. Sure, everything that was pouring out of Ray's mouth was true. And she would definitely agree with him in the moment. But as Ray rambled, her focus was on something else. Her eyes stayed focused on her platoon commander and team leader who both stood in the front of the Humvee. Looking back every so often to stare at the Captain who was supposed to be fixing his mistake.

 Kyra overheard the talk on Comms and the conversation between Brad and Fick.

 "Just figuring out we're lost," the Lieutenant started, sighing heavily. Brad looked down at his superior, pursing his lips and huffing.

 "I could've told him that a half an hour ago," he responded, agitation laced heavily in his voice. The two looked behind them, looking at the Captain and the Gunny staring down at a map laid down on the hood of their vehicle. Brad scoffed as the two looked back at each other. That is when Encino Man hopped onto his radio.

"We're gonna backtrack. Hitman Three will be on point. Colbert's team took a wring turn at the bridge."

  Hearing those words come from their commander, just itched Kyra the wrong way. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, her eyebrows narrowed. How could a Commander be so childish? Blaming his mistakes on the ones below him. Especially to Sergeant Colbert. Who is the best team leader and one of the best damn Marine within the Company and everyone knew it. If it was actually possible, steam would be shooting out of the female's ears.

 Ray noticed the woman's sudden shift in emotions. He knew that Kyra was usually the bubbly and happy one of the group. And seeing her as mad as she looked, the face of someone that wanted to commit a murder and fucking know she could get away with it.

 "Uh, hey Smiles. You good back there?" he asked, trying his best not to anger the female Marine even more. He was trying to choose life. Kyra just huffed heavily and looked up at him.

 "I'll be good when fucking Encino Man gets his dick out from between his legs, grows a fucking pair, and become a man like he is supposed be. Leading all of us. And admit his own mistakes and correct them and stop being such a dumb fucking leader," she hissed. Ray's eyes widened and turned around fully in the seat to get a better look at the ball of anger that sat in the middle seat.

 At the corner of her eye, Kyra noticed the reporter scribbling down into his little notebook. Her head snapped to look at him. Wright's head quickly bounced upwards, looking back at Kyra. Their eyes meeting. And once he saw the look of pure anger in her eyes, he knew he fucked up.

 "Keep scribbling in the stupid fucking notebook, Wright, and I'll just accidentally let off a round into your leg. Sending you right home and fucking up your stupid little report," she hissed. In which Wright shut the notebook closed quickly, and taking a large gulp. Nodding at her words.

 Kyra just huffed and turned away. Climbing over Trombley to get out of the Humvee. Once she was out, the three looked around at each other. Very shocked and confused at what had just happened. "What the hell just happened?" Ray muttered to Trombley.

 The female Marine walked towards Brad and stood besides him. The height difference was clear between the two. She chewed at the skin attached to her bottom lip. Not looking up at him and just looking out at the tall grass instead of the road she pictured of them driving on. "You don't have to put up with this shit, Brad," she said. Taking a moment to spit before looking back at him. "This is all bullshit," she added. Brad looked down at the fireball of a woman. A small smile coming to his lips as he shook his head. Turning around to look at the convoy of vehicles.

 "Corporal, you'll know one day that after a while, you just tend to ignore it. The entire military is bullshit. This war is bullshit. We are all bullshit," he started. Looking back down at her with that same stupid, shit eating grin. "This entire world is bullshit, Kyra. And that's why us Marines are here. To try to fix all the bullshit with even more bullshit," he finished. Earning a dry laugh from the smaller woman. She looked up at him with a look of light in her eyes.

 "You know Brad, after all this shit, I'm going to marry you," was all she said. Smiling up at him before patting his arm and turning around to walk back to their Humvee. Of course, Brad being the person he was, assumed she was joking. But he also hoped she wasn't. Yet Kyra wasn't joking.

  She meant what she said. She knew everything within life was bullshit. But she could see that Brad wasn't. He was real. And she was attached to it.

[eugenesmorphine]

I feel like Ray Person would actually shit in someone’s pillow. Not realizing it’s just like a saying. Or maybe he does realize it. He just likes shitting in people’s pillows

[eugenesmorphine]

Same energy as “hot milky”

Judge: for your crimes, we sentence you to 68 years in prison

Ray: can you...

Ray: can you add one more year?

[eugenesmorphine]

Livin’ The Brother Hood // A Generation Kill Fanfic

AN: The long awaited chapter two. Again, so sorry I’ve been dead. I’m working on more of my chapters as we speak. :)

Chapter Two: Oscar Mike

  The next day after all that pizza, the Base was more than alive. Trucks and Humvees lined up ready to leave. The reporter  hopped into the backseat along with Trombley. Garza hopped on the turret. Kyra finished squaring away the Humvee and followed close behind Ray, holding her helmet whilst they walked to the porter potty. Ray pounded on the door.

 "Brad lets go it's urgent! Where almost oscar mike!" he called. Kyra stood there, a small smile on her face. Her little bandage still on her forehead.

 "Jesus Ray, can't I enjoy one minute of enjoyment before shipping out," he called out from inside of the portable toilet. A giggle flew out of the female's lips along as Ray began to chuckle. The porter potty's door flew open. There stood the tall Marine as he scooped up his toilet paper, and Playboy magazine. Looking between Kyra and Ray with his piercing blue eyes. Kyra laughed slightly and shook her head. Ray went and followed Brad so he could go get the rest of his gear. the female Marine went and got in the Humvee, sitting between Trombley and the Reporter. She placed her helmet on her head, clicking her chin strap on. She began bouncing her knee, adrenaline coursing through her veins.

  About five minutes later, Ray and Brad hopped into their seats in the Humvee. Ray placed his helmet on and Brad did the same. The reporter sat in his seat, sweat dripped down his face. Ray placed some dip in his lip and looked at the Kyra and the reporter, holding the can of dip out to them. The female made a face and put her hand up, rejecting the tobacco product.

 "Hey, War Scribe. Want to try some dip. The first couple times I tried it, I puked a little bit. But, as long as you don't get it in Brad's Humvee, we won't mind," Ray spoke, clipping his helmet. Wright grabbed the can of dip, took some and stuffed it in his bottom lip. Kyra stuck her tongue out in disgust as she just placed her M16 between her legs. Humming softly as they waited for the signal to be off and driving.

///

   After a few hours of waiting for the translator, they were off. The drive was decently boring. Sitting in the Humvee wasn't all that nice. I mean, listening to Ray hipped up on Ripped Fuel and singing variations of Avril Lavigne and other hit songs, was fun and all. Hell, even Brad was singing along with some of them. Though, when you're driving in a desert there isn't much to see. Especially when you are both searching for the enemy, and waiting for the enemy to approach you at the same time in a massive country.

 Kyra had already fallen asleep, her head resting on Trombley's shoulder. A shocker was that Trombley hadn't shoved her off of him just yet. Ray glanced in the rear view mirror, looking at Marine. "Holy shit James, you aren't being a total psycho. I'm surprised," Ray retorted. Brad glanced back at the two and smiled slightly.

 "She is nice to me. And she gave me a pack of skittles," he shrugged and kept looking out the window. Ray scoffed slightly and focused back on the road. That was when they were called to pull over along with the rest of the trucks. Kyra popped up and hopped out of the car with everyone else. And as soon as everyone had gotten out of their vehicles, two white pickup trucks with the Republican Guard's insignia on the front of it. Men with AKs sat inside the truck, along with the truck bed.

 No one was really paying attention at first, Kyra was the first to notice them. She immediately brought up her firearm and aimed down her sights. "Uh, Lieutenant! Two white pickup trucks, Republican Guard symbols on the hoods," she called out. This grabbed everyone's attention quite quickly while the two pickup trucks came to a hard stop. Brad came up next to the female and leaned over the truck and aimed his gun down on the trucks. This is when the rest of the men followed the action. Fick got on the phone with the higher ups in the chain of command, asking permission open fire on the men. Or at least snatch one for questioning. But, to no avail, the request was denied. And we were told to wave them off.

 "The first contact we make with the enemy, and we wave them off like a bunch of bitches," Brad cursed while looking at Ray and Kyra who stood at his side. Kyra looked up to the two and chewed on her bottom lip.

 "You know what happens when you leave the Marines?" Ray asked rhetorically, not really asking any particular person. Kyra patted his shoulder slightly. He looked between his two closest friends. "You get your brains back," he answered, turning around and going to the driver's seat of the Humvee. The female watched as he walked away and looked up at Brad. She wasn't all that upset though. The girl always stayed optimistic and had a smiled on her face. She grinned at Brad and walked to get in her seat in the Humvee. The blonde chuckled to himself and turned, watching her walk away. He shook his head slightly and walked to the passenger seat of the Humvee. And in no time, they were back on the road once more.

 "Hey Sarge?"called out the female from the backseat. Receiving a hum from the Sergeant to show that he was in fact listening. "How's do you feel about your turret not showing up on time?" A laugh was heard from the Humvee's driver. A small smirk formed on her face as the Sergeant slowly turned around to look at her. The Reporter had a hard time keeping in his laughs.

 "You know my dear Y/N, I could just cut a hole mopp suit while you sleep," he threatened. Though, the female just kept her smile, and patted his shoulder.

  "Sure you can Sarge, but you love me too much," she teased as she leaned back against the seat. Brad just shook his head, turning back in his seat to face the road. She then looked over at the reporter, raising a brow. "I don't know what you're giggling at reporter. Just yesterday Garza had to preform testicle surgery on your because your mopp suit was too small. And you kept me up all night because you kept encouraging Ray with his dumb ass pussy theories on this war," she spat. One thing that girl was good at was killing Iraqis and being too much sass for everyone. That is probably why her and Doc Bryan got along so well.

 The Reporter stumbled over his words as he looked at the female's death stare. He didn't think a woman could inflict so much tension and fear into a man just with the look on her face. She slowly shifted her face back to the smile she always had she patted his shoulder. "I'm just messing with you, I don't sleep much anyways," she chuckled. Wright just sat there and smiled nervously, nodding along with what the female said.

///

 The next couple days were fine. One night all of the men, and woman, were set in their little tent things. And then the next day they were on the road. The night before, Brad and Trombley had spotted a shit ton of foot mobiles on the move towards them. So the next morning, that is exactly what all of them had to deal with.

 There had to be dozens of Iraqis. All of which needed to be searched for any Intel or any of which to know if any one of these men were apart of the Republican Guard. That meant all Marines on deck to search through the dozens of men.

 Kyra had been patting down one of the men, her weapon's strap slung around her shoulder. Encino Man stood from afar, watching the woman. He was the type of man to be the "Superman" type. Always wanting to help Miss Bisset, though the Captain got in the way most times. And everyone saw it except him. And today, was one of those days when Captain Schwetje wanted to be Superman instead of Encino man.

 Rudy and her had been patting down a set of men who would stop shouting. No matter what the pair did, they wouldn't shut the fuck up. that was until the female Marine huffed and rolled her eyes. Staring up at the Iraqis who wouldn't just stand still or sit town. She pointed her gun up at and just said in a firm voice, "Sit down and shut the fuck up. You Hajii motherfuckers." With that, the two men got the hint and indeed stopped speaking. Rudy watched the woman, slightly shocked that someone of her seemingly softer nature, so quick to use a more violent way of getting to the point. Not exactly Rudy's style though, what else could he do about it.

 Rudy began to pat down one man whilst Kyra began starting on the second one. "These guys gotta be hiding something. At least one of them. There is no way on God's green Earth they would have put up such a big fight for us to just pat them down," The female spoke, glancing over at Rudy. With her taking her focus off the Iraqi in front of her for a fraction of a second, he launched upwards. Reaching for the Marine's M16. And that is when Captain Encino Man came in. Kyra was just about to push back the Iraqi and grab at her gun. Though, the Captain practically came out of no where and pushed the female out of the way. Classic Superman act in a not particularly extremely dangerous situation.

 This action done by the Captain made her stumble and fall right on her ass. Her helmet tilting in front her eyes, pushing her glasses down and probably leaving a scratch on them. The poor woman just sat there for a second, a bit confused at the blur that just shoved her. The brunette pushed the tip of her helmet up, along with using her index finger to push her glasses up. The thud of the Marine hitting the sand along with all of her equipment caught the attention of Marines nearby. Nate quickly looked at what the situation as Kyra stared up at Encino Man. Her face flooded with confusion, anger, and clear frustration as Rudy helped her stand.

 "Uh, Captain. I could assure you that I had that situation under control," She spoke, voice laced with annoyance as she dusted her lower half off.

 "This Iraqi," he started, grabbing the Hajii by the arm and yanked him upwards. "He clearly reached for your weapon, and could've put you in great danger."

 "Sir, I understand that. But," The small Marine's voice cut off by a hand on her shoulder. She looked at the hand and followed it's connecting arm. Her eyes landing on her Lieutenant. She huffed and looked at him.

 "Captain, I was sure my Marine had this under control. Next time, I would appreciate it if you wouldn't shove Corporal Bisset next time you want to assist in a situation. And, Sergeant Reyes was here to assist her if need be. Sir." He piped in. His tone showing that he was too, very annoyed at his superior officer's actions.

 "I saw this as a dangerous situation, in which one of your Marines needed assisting. Whilst you were away. If anything, I was helping you out Lieutenant," he hissed. He sounded so stupid. If only he could hear himself.

 Help and assist. The two words Kyra hated the most. As a lone female with dozens of larger males that surrounded her. Many thought that she was much weaker than the rest of them. Her small size and look seemed to be that way. But they were so wrong. Kyra knew deep down that she wasn't weak and that she wasn't damsel in distress that needed saving. She was capable of doing anything on her own. Though, the female knew that she couldn't change every man's mind that she was indeed the weren't the weaker target.  And the female Marine knew that she especially couldn't change their actions towards her most times. Unless she had to set them straight herself. Which she has had to do a few times within her past. But, that wasn't the point. Kyra Bisset knew that she had gone through all the same training, worked just as hard, or maybe even harder, than the rest of the males that she fought along side with her. That was all she needed to know herself.

 Nate looked at the lone woman, his lips pressed together. His eyes spoke for him. Showing that it was just best for her to walk away because there was no use wasting time with the Captain. She just let out a heavy sigh and turned and walked off. Searching for her other friends with Rudy close behind her. Ray has just walked past, his arms tightly on an Iraqi in a dark grey turtle neck.

 "Hey guy! They have their own Fruity Rudy!" he called, his voice booming as he pushed the Iraqi along towards Lilley and Chaffin. Kyra glanced at Rudy and scoffed slightly. She shook her head and walked towards Doc Bryan. Only imagining what Ray might've found on that Iraqi.

  Looking around, the Marines were still at work. Though, with what was said and seen that most of these men, if not all, already came into contact with Marines or the Army. Having things from MREs, tickets saying that they already came in contact with our military. But, not every man was checked over, there still had to be another dozen men to get patted down and questioned. Though, that came to a quick stop when Godfather showed up.

 Godfather approached Fick, and immediately said that the Marines needed to get a move on. Ordering the Lieutenant to send these dozens of men back from where they came. All of the Marines stood there, shocked at the order. It was against the Geneva Convention to not care for these men, they were technically surrendered. Kyra and Doc approached their Lieutenant and looked up at him.

 "Sir, we can't just send them back to where they came from. Some of these men might have important information," the female stated.

 "Are they serious? Where the fuck are we supposed to send them back to? Lieutenant, it is against the Geneva Convention to send these guys back. We have to take care of them, they surrendered," Doc added, frustration in his voice. Doc Bryan was always one for the rules, and he lived by the Geneva Convention.

 "Well un-surrender them. I can't do anything about it. Tell them to go back," Fick retorted, sounding defeated, frustrated, and just straight up exhausted. The Corpsman and the shorter Marine looked at each and and shook their heads. And just walked back to their squad's Humvee.

  Kyra climbed into the Humvee and sat in her spot. She looked at Ray, remember how he hadn't slept in a while. "Hey Ray, before we are Oscar Mike, want to get some rest? I can drive, I already slept a bit," Ray looked back at her. A small smile on his lips.

 "Sure, I'll sit between the psycho and the war scribe," he answered, hopping out of the drivers seat while the female rolled her eyes and climbed out.

 "Trombley isn't a psycho, Ray," She spoke, smiling at Trombley. He gave a tiny one in return. The woman always had a big sister relationship with Trombley. Always defending him and standing up for him. She sat down in the drivers seat.

 "Sure you can reach the pedal there Kyra?" Brad teased, looking over from his seat. She scoffed, looking over at the Sergeant. Giving him the middle finger and placed her other hand on the steering wheel.

 "Just because you say that that, I'm hitting every goddamn pothole and every fucking bump, jackass," she hissed. Earning a chuckle from the man in the passenger's seat who returned his focus to watching outside of his window. Kyra smiled to herself and started up the Humvee. Tapping her fingertips off of the wheel and humming softly.

 "Kyra, if you could not hit every goddamn pothole and every fucking bump that would be amazing," the previous chimed in from the backseat. Mocking the female's word. Who just shook her head slightly and started driving.

///

 After a few hours of driving and a quick pit stop later. And with Kyra definitely hitting almost every pothole and bump she could find. Each time the Humvee rumbled, Brad swore at her and Ray groaned loudly. Trombley was just enjoying himself and watching the show happily. Ray went back to driving and Kyra climbed back into her seat between Write and James.

  It wasn't a long ride before we caught up with the rest of the military on Saddam's highways. Kyra looked out the window as she looked in amazement at all the Military vehicles. Tanks and all. "Whoa, check it out," Trombley spoke up. Just as amused as the woman besides him.

 "Look at this gents and lady. Little more than forty-eight hours into the war, and the First Marine Division out of Camp Pendleton, Oceanside, California, is rolling with impunity on Saddam's highways," Sergeant Colbert announced. Kyra sighed whilst Trombley huffed and plopped back angrily in his seat.

  "This sucks. We were on point in front of the whole invasion," He slammed the butt of his gun on the floor of the Humvee angrily. "Now we're back in the traffic jam." Kyra jumped in her seat slightly at the loud thud.

 "Trombley. how dare you question the strategic plan?" Brad asked, looking back at the angry Marine in the back seat as the Humvee was brought to a stop.

 "Oh my god look at this," Ray started up, pointing to the American vehicles. Everyone looked over at the trucks. "'Angry American'. Aw, 'Get Some'? 'Don't tread on me'?" He began listing off the multiple common slogans that were seen all over the hundred of trucks. that lead into him and Colbert getting into it about stupid shit that makes patriotism and country music. And does Sergeant Brad Colbert fucking despise country music. Kyra just sat back and slapped the Wright's shoulder and motioned for him to be taking this type of shit down. Which he quickly whipped out his little notebook and began scribbling down.

 After hours of waiting in miles and miles of traffic and complaining about how the Marines were stuck doing nothing. And hoping that they actually got to get into the war before it ended. The battalion was on the road once more.

///

 It grew dark quickly where the Marines stationed for camp that night. Most Marines sat up and talked  with each other. While others slept. Sergeant Colbert had switched out Garza was still upon the gun. Which he was busy working on the gun, Brad and Ray were up just talking back and forth. Kyra had just fallen asleep after she spent a good amount of hours trying to assist Gabe on the gun and preforming some of normal duties. The Reporter was also passed out in a little grave he dug.

 Ray tore open an MRE he had saved within his bag. Bouncing his knee up and down. Probably from the amount of Ripped Fuel the man must have ingested. It had maybe be about ten minutes and Kyra had already awoken. Rubbing her eyes using her fists like a child. Ray glanced down at her, slightly confused at what she had woken up from. Or why she was getting up. Reaching for her glasses within her pocket, she pulled them out and placed them on her face.

 "Hey Gabe, I'll fix the gun. Get some rest," Her voice tired. A yawn slipped from her lips as she stretched. The Corporal was known for not sleeping for long periods of time. No one really knew why. But usually the most she would sleep would be two hours and then she would be up and at 'em.

  The Marine manning the gun looked down at her, raising an eyebrow. "Ah, I'm fine. You can lay down for a little bit longer." Shaking his head and going back to trying to get the jam out of their Humvee's main gun.

 "Gabe, shut the hell up and get sleep while I'm offering it," The brunette already began climbing on top of the Humvee, pushing Gabe out. He just had a few confused noises leave his lips as he physically could deny the chance to sleep. Kyra just watched as Walt put his hands up in surrender and climbed down and into the grave that she had just been sleeping in. She chuckled to herself as she removed her helmet from the top of her helmet.

 "Why aren't you sleeping, Corporal?" Called Sergeant Colbert from the passengers seat as he watched the screen in front of him.

 "Why aren't you, Sergeant?" was all she responded. The female stared off into the darkness of the desert. The cool wind feeling amazing on her skin instead of the hot sun that was there on the daily. Looking down, her hand went up to the back of her, pulling her hair down. Getting the somewhat fresh breeze blowing her brown locks back. A sigh of content slipping from her lips as she tilted her chin up. A small grin spreading on his lips.

 "Seems like I asked your first Corporal Bisset," Colbert pushed himself out of his seat. Looking up at her, tilting his helmet up.

 "Didn't feel like it," Kyra shrugged as she began working he way with the weapon on top of the vehicle. Her focus devoted to trying to understand why the gun just kept getting Jammed.

 "Huh, I don't think I'm buying it. Are you Ray?" Brad's head turned to face Ray who had been on the opposite side of the Humvee.

 "Nope! Not buying it Brad!" Ray chimed, mouth full of food. A small giggle left the woman's lips and she shook her head. She leaned on the turret's shield and looked down at the Sergeant.

 "Why do you men want to know so much about me?" her head tilted to the side. Her long brown hair falling to the side. Brad rested his weight onto his left foot as he looked up.

 "Well my dear friend, you have been with us guys for months. Through every training and all. You know about everyone's past and story, or just them in general. And we know absolutely fucking nothing about you. All the guys have been making bets on if you've killed someone or not." He leaned against the Humvee. Kyra scoffed and laughed slightly.

  "No, I've never killed anyone," she sighed heavily in defeat as the turret jammed once more. She ran a hand through her thick hair. Leaning back, Kyra slipped down out of the turret and into the seat. It was now her turn to look up at the lanky Sergeant. "I don't talk much about where I'm from or my "past" because it just isn't all that good."

 "Hell Kyra, that doesn't mean shit. Some guys were supposed to be going to jail for some fucked up reasons and chose the Marines instead of being locked up," Ray spoke, stalking on over to the two. Ease dropping. A common action done by Corporal Person. An expression that spoke 'you're and idiot' while Brad just let out a heavy sigh and looked down. Shaking his head slightly.

 "Well Ray, as going to jail for a petty crime is not the best and all. My so called "story", as Brad put it, isn't as easy as that," swinging her legs back and forth as she looked up at the two Marines standing in front of her.

 "Then tell us my dear female friend," The short brunette pressed on. He was just as curious as Brad. Though Brad just wouldn't admit how much he wanted to learn about the woman sitting in front of him. Kyra just smirked slightly and stood up, approaching the two men. With a few steps she stood in front of them. They looked down at her, anxiously waiting to see and hear something about her. The small woman just tapped their cheeks with her hands.

 "Maybe one day, my two favorite Marines," Kyra just gave them a nod whilst Ray threw his head back and groaned loudly. Brad just huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. The two watched Kyra grab her Kevlar and placing it on top of her head as she pulled her hair back into a bun. Clicking the chin strap on and grabbing her M16. "I'm going to go talk to Poke, have fun you two," she grinned as she turned, walking away to Poke's Humvee. Ray just scoffed slightly and looked over at Brad. Who's eyes were still watching the little lady as she was already about twenty yards away.

 "When are you going to realize Brad that you are one love sick puppy over that Marine," Ray teased. Shaking his head as Brad snapped his head to look down at the brunette next to him. He scoffed, turning his body to look at him.

 "For your information Corporal Person, I am not a "love sick puppy" for Kyra. And I don't think I'll ever be. Unlike you and you're strange attraction to your sisters like the rest of your whiskey tango, trailer park fucking hick family. I don't fall for people my dear RTO," Brad retorted coldly. Though, Ray just scoffed and stared at him for a second as the Sergeant turned to get into the passenger seat to keep watch,

 "Fuck it Brad, I'm getting some sleep," with that Ray pushed himself off from leaning of the side of the Humvee and walked around it to his little makeshift bed that he had. Laying down and talking with the Reporter a bit before getting at least a little sleep.

///

 The next day the Marines sort of got what they wished for. Bravo pulled in and waited behind Alpha. Gun shots never stopped and Mortar fire hadn't quite just yet. All of Bravo jumped out of their Humvees and took cover. Explosions from Mortars were hitting all over. Kyra sat there, edging her way in front of everyone, trying to search for the Mortar fire. Men were being shot in her view. Some even being blow up. Though, it was war wasn't it?

  Brad and Ray were up talking with the Lieutenant. Men were all squatted next to their Humvees. Flinching and jumping at each loud boom that the Mortars made when they hit the ground all around the Marines. The blasts made it sound like the Mortar strikes were coming from all over.

 The female ran back to the Lieutenant, binoculars in hand. "Sir, I can't get visual on where the Mortar strikes are coming from within the city. There has to be at least three of them with the constant rates of them firing," Kyra shouted over the loud sounds of bullets and explosions. Fick just pursed his lips and looked over at the group of Marines that stood beneath electrical power lines. Her, Fick, and Brad all moved up, observing the group of Marines about thirty yards in front of them. The female chewed on her inside of her lower lip, adrenaline and anxiety coursed through her veins. Not a good mix.

 In just a second, the female looked away. She heard a loud explosion and the quick screamed for a Corpsman. She looked back and the men that stood just thirty yards in front of her had fallen. Now crying out in pain. Doc immediately ran to their aid as the three Marines just stood there. Kyra just stood from her kneeling position, her eyes never leaving the men wailing on the ground. She swallowed hard and turned, shaking her head slightly.

 Sergeant Colbert's eyes followed the female as she left. War was all fun and games, guts and glory to these young men. Until the bullets truly start flying and your buddies begin dying all around you. Then it isn't all piss and vinegar anymore. It was today that most Marines in the company really started the process of understanding what war was really all about. Watching fellow brothers in arms hit the ground, crying for their mothers, was not what most would picture or anticipate.

///

  The night took over. Everyone within their Humvees. Either asleep or keeping watch. Ray and Trombley had been up talking about future names for Trombley's son. Going back and forth between names, bickering at times over names. In that time, Brad switched Gabe for Walt for manning the turret. After that time, Ray had been attempting to fall asleep, whilst Trombley was still Rambling about his wife and future child. Kyra had been sitting on the top of the humvee, chatting with Walt as he climbed onto the turret.

 "Walt, can you keep it down? I'm trying to listen to the artillery," Ray called from the driver's seat. A giggle left the woman's lips as Walt chuckled, glancing down at the male below him. Kyra kicked her legs back and forth as she hummed to herself. Her helmet off and hair down. It was this time a night when she could have her hair down and get a moment to enjoy the wind combing throughout her thick hair. It was almost like a moment of clarity. She knew that there was a war surrounding her. She was well aware of the amount of death that surrounded her and her friends. She knew that she could die at any time. Though, the female just wasn't looking at the darker sides of things. Kyra was known to be the light of the company. The one comforting the men, making them smile. Going past the cat calls, the flirting, the staring, the teasing, going past everything. Everyone loved her. She was just the something the men looked forward too. They were a little sister, a best friend.

  "Why don't you get some sleep there Smiles," Walt spoke whilst fidgeting with the turret. She sighed at the use of the name and looked up at the blonde countryman. A grin on her lips.

  "I'm fine Walt, I don't need it. I'm not tired," she responded, pushing herself off the roof of the Humvee. She let out a little grunt as her boots came into contact with the sandy desert ground. A small cloud of sand puffing up from beneath her boots. She stretched her back as she turned and grabbed her helmet. She saw a familiar Sergeant sitting in the passengers seat and walked on over around the Humvee to go speak to him.

  She leaned against the Humvee, her forearms supporting her weight as she placed them above the window. Brad just kept focus on the screen in front of him. Kyra looked over his shoulder and at the screen. He had just gotten through telling Trombley that getting married and having children was a waste of time and money. Instead he could just order a hundred dollar hooker on the phone and it would be better.

 "What are you working on there Sarge?" Asked the small woman. Brad looked up at her, a small grin spreading on his lips as he noticed her.

 "Not really anything here Corporal. Just keeping watch whilst everyone, I mean, everyone except you is getting some shut eye. So why don't you do the same?" He just looked at her. Still not understanding the fact behind why she never slept all that much.

 "I'm fine Brad, I don't need it. Why don't you get some sleep and I'll keep watch? The team leader needs some sleep at some point doesn't he?" she smiled leaning more inside the Humvee. Brad just chuckled and looked down slightly. Looking back at her.

  "Why don't you ever sleep for a long period of time? Like fucking ever?" he rested his gun down, abiding his attention towards the female leaning into his Humvee's window.

  "You really want to know?"

 "Yes, I really want to know!" Kyra stood there and sighed slightly. She shrugged her shoulders and looked back at the blue eyed man in front of her.

 "I don't know, I guess it is just easier to stay awake. That way I know nothing bad will happen to me. No one will try anything," her words were soft and clear. Brad nodded, never realizing that the entire reason she went without sleep was because she was worried someone would try something. It made the man wonder what made her worried or scared.

  "You know nobody would try anything Kyra," Brad tried to reassure. Attempting to pull out some emotions, something he wasn't at all used to.

 "Are you sure about that Brad Colbert?" Kyra gave him a weak smile and the question left Brad speechless. He just couldn't think of a reassuring answer. The woman just sighed and kept a smile. Glancing at him one last time before climbing back up onto the top of the Humvee. Laying on her back, looking up at the stars. While Mr. Brad Colbert just sat there, still at a loss for words. Confused on why he was so lost and confused. With a sigh he just looked back at the screen in front of him. Pushing all questions and strange unknown feelings to the side. Not really wanting to understand them.

 Kyra just sat there, listening to everyone's conversations around her. Thinking to herself, 'What in the hell did I get myself into coming back into this.'

[eugenesmorphine]

I’m not dead, just struggling with family issues and enlisting in the military :). Remember to eat and drink and stay hydrated

some doc bryan for @506thparachute

[eugenesmorphine]

Hi dear, can I ask for some story of Ronald Speirs with a German or French nurse/prisoner that they���ve found plss?🥰 something like a star crossed lover😉😉

In The Jaws of Death // Ronald Spiers Imagines

AN: This isn't my best work. But in the terms of getting back into the swing of things, I hope you still enjoy it.

Words: 2,365

It was early within the morning when Easy Company quietly invaded a small town overtaken by the German army. About three in the morning to be exact. Hiding beneath the cover of the darkened sky, the moonlight shining down dully between the trees and clouds.

The town had been converted into a small base, or headquarters for the Germans. Most of the homes were clearly not in use as the enemy had forced the remaining habitants out from their homes. Just a few homes were being used at barracks, and it seemed like the small town hall had been used as their aid station.

Four officers took a knee on a hill whilst using the brush as cover. Winters, Speirs, Nixon, and Compton all kneeled within a small line, close together, staring down their own scopes. Ronald Speirs pulled his scope down first and let out a scoff. Causing the three other Paratrooper officers to lower their scopes to turn towards the officer.

“Only a few guards posted out on a few balconies. For being such a “strong force”, they’re situational awareness seems to be at an all time low,” he whispered. Winters let out a quiet chuckle and turned back to the front. Bringing the scope back up to his eye. Peering over to what seemed to be their aid station. Small jeeps continued to pour in and out hourly to drop off wounded Nazi soldiers. Two nurses continued to rush in and out. Same two nurses each time. Blood covered the aprons and dresses they wore, along with their hands. It was clear even from a decent distance away.

“Looks like that aid station is quite busy. Just two nurses it seems though, got to be careful of them,” Winters stated quietly. To which Ronald just scoffed again.

“Why would they ever decide to side with them? To nurse those son’s of a bitches back to health just to come and kill our men?” Ronald asked. His eyes now steadying on the nurses in the distance. Nixon was the one to pipe up this time.

“A lot of them don’t make the choice themselves. Some of them don’t have a choice. Kind of like how we draft men. They’re people just like us. They don’t want to kill our men, the soldiers do. They merely just want to get home. Just like us,” he told him. Nixon was right. And Ronald knew that, but he didn’t want to admit it. He wasn’t going to, because he wasn’t that type of man. So instead, he didn’t.

“They all have a choice. Just like us,” Speirs responded. Keeping his opinion voiced. Gritting his teeth. Nixon went to sarcastically respond, but Winters clapped a hand on his shoulder and pulled him back slightly. The location officer turned to look at his higher up. And Winters just shook his head. Knowing that his dear friend Ronald Spiers wouldn’t give up his opinion. Making the “come along” motion and quietly walking away. Nixon just sighed and followed his tail closely.

Speirs sat alone for a bit longer. His dark eyes staring down at that aid station.Watching the two nurses now standing outside as they washed blood soaked linens and bed sheets in old horse troughs filled with water. “Yeah, we all have a choice,” he repeated below his breath. Knowing no one would hear him. A small grunt came from his chapped lips and he stood up quietly. Grabbing his Thompson and turning around to follow his fellow officers back to their foxholes. They were to be invading soon, he just needed to prepare a bit.

///

It didn’t take long to take over the small base. Maybe an hour, and only minor wounds and just one fatal casualty. Speirs and the other officers had been working with the rest of the Paratroopers to take care of the prisoners and organize them to take them to the holding base.

Ronald had been hanging back a bit, just watching over the small process of everything they were doing. It was going smoothly. Until one thing popped into his mind. His back straightened and his head went up. He looked up at all the groups of captured Nazis, and even around at the bodies. They weren’t there. Where were the nurses?

In a flash he turned and began to briskly walk towards that aid station. He didn’t see their pale blue dresses and white aprons anywhere. Even as he searched while he walked. His eyes fell back towards the building where medical supplies had been being hauled out crate by crate. But still no nurses. He grumbled slightly and picked up his pace. Pushing past some soldiers and walking through the large wooden doors. Pausing when he saw a bunch of bodies laying down with sheets over their heads. Clearly the men the nurses were trying to save. He huffed and looked up. Seeing a group of men with their guns pointed at one of the nurses. The other one is still yet to be seen. The nurse with the soldiers around her all peered down at her. Her hands behind her head in surrender.

“Please, please let me see if I can help her,” she pleaded through a strong German accent. Ronald pursued closer. Wondering what she was bantering about. But as he walked closer, the officer was quick to understand. The other nurse, a pretty blonde woman, had been laying on her side. A pool of blood coming from her stomach. Ronald’s eyes widened. As much as he hated the Nazis, and what he had stated to the fellow officers, this was a war crime. And the sound of the other H/C nurse crying didn’t make him feel any better.

“Was this any of your bullets?” he asked sternly. Snapping his head towards the group of paratroopers, and weeping woman who still knelt on the wooden floor of the church. The woman was dead already, her body already beginning to turn ghost white, while the blood had stopped flooding from the wood. And her breath could not be heard. The downed nurse’s chest did not rise, nor fall.

The young paratroopers jumped at the menacing officer. Swallowing fast as they all shook their heads. One decided to finally speak up. “The woman was on the ground before we came in here, sir. We heard a gunshot and some German and rushed in here. The little lady was on the floor bleeding out, and a Kraut standing with a gun to this one’s head. He is over there,” he spoke, pointing to the dead German who was slumped against a wall. His head bent over, as he too was dead.

“They are speaking the truth, it was the German soldier that had shot her. I was next, they thought that we were the ones that had been giving information to you Americans when you first stormed here,” she paused as she tried to look away from her dead friend. Tears continued to pour down her face. “Please, I am not a threat. I had no choice but to be a nurse. I want nothing from this war. They would have killed me if I didn’t. Please, I do not want to die,” her English was broken. But so was her voice. Ronald stood there for a moment, wondering what he should do. She seemed sincere. And genuinely scared.

“I’ll bring her to Roe, he could probably use the help,” was all Speirs said. Leaving the men a little shocked. The woman slowly stood and wiped her eyes. Briskly walked past the corpses of her fellow nurse, and the rest of the bodies that were within the church. Following the paratrooper officer closely. Her flats hit the mud that was outside of the church, splashing up her legs and all over her shoes. She chose to ignore it for then, keeping silent as she walked behind the cold faced officer.

They walked in silence for quite a bit. The young nurse felt as if she was in fact a prisoner. The stares of the other Americans, her eyes stayed focused in front of her. Staring at Speir’s back.

Speirs had gotten sick of the silence. He was one for it, but sometimes it was boring. And with this woman, he felt compelled to speak to her for some odd reason. Just an itch that he wanted to at least learn her name. “What is your name, little lady?” he asked bluntly. To which the nurse perked her head up nervously yet quickly.

“My name is Y/N L/N. May I ask you yours, Army Man?” She responded. Ronald nodded to himself. Taking in her words and taking a deep breath. Rounding a corner of one of the run down buildings, continuing to head towards the aid station where the other medics had been stationed.

“My name is Ronald Speirs, Captain Speirs is what you can call me,” he responded. Y/N sat there and practiced the name under her breath. Repeating it quietly until she had gotten it right.

“You have a nice name, Captain Speirs,” she complimented. Making Ronald’s ends of his lips quirk upwards with a smile. He didn’t even realize he did it. “I wanted to thank you, and your men. For not killing me. You must know that it wasn’t our-” she paused for a moment and took a deep breath. “It wasn’t my choice to be this way and help the Nazi party. Many people were trapped under the work of the Nazis. Many men and women did sign up for the role for the fatherland, but many were forced, sir,” she tried to explain. Y/N was merely afraid of the worst. To be sent away and jailed, or killed. “All I wanted was my family to be safe,” she finished.

Ronald stayed silent for a moment. He remembered what he said to Winters, Welsh, and Nixon. He knew the truth, and he was just an angry type of man. But with how this young woman said certain things, how scared she sounded, how she wept and begged when they first entered that church. It made his eyes open just a little bit.

“Are you hungry?” he asked bluntly. Y/N just lifted her head a little confused at the question. She had been thinking that she was a prisoner of sorts. She didn’t exactly know how she would be treated, but definitely not like this. To be asked if she was hungry, unlike when she worked for the Germans. They pretty much told her when she was to eat, sleep, drink, use the bathroom. It was odd hearing the question after a while of just being given so many orders she was forced to do.

The young nurse didn’t understand the truth of the Americans. She wished for liberation. Prayed for it even. She was still scared she would be arrested or killed. Much like what the Russians did to the German forces. But with the company of the rather quiet, intimidating officer gave her a bit of comfort. Especially from the looks of all the men that the two walked by. The hatred filled the eyes of some, who just screamed out to blame her for helping the Germans. Y/N merely tried to ignore it, just swallowing hard and looking forward. Continuing to step through the mud.

///

When Ronald had brought Y/N to Eugene , Eugene stared up at her with surprise. “Doc, this is Y/N, she is a nurse. She is going to help you out with the wounded for now. I’m going up to HQ to figure out if we are sending her with the other prisoners or not,” he reported. Eugene just gave a respectful nod towards the officer. Y/N took a few steps towards the medic.

“I wish to help. My English isn’t the best, but I am good with my hands. I promise,” she said softly. It seemed her voice was almost permanently soft due to the harsh cold that attacked all of the soldiers. No matter what side.

Eugene just nodded and outstretched his arm to jester to the few wounded men that sat around. Y/N didn’t hesitate, she went. Kneeling in the mud and aiding a soldier that had a large shrapnel wound across the thigh and down the leg. Muttering soft prayers within her language as she began to suppress and wrap the wound.

The Officer had found himself staring. His mind was a mess. He was a close minded, but very smart man at times. Very wise for his young age. He wanted to understand. But he knew everyone had a choice. Though, he wasn’t as angry, just wanting to understand why it made her want to protect her family in a way to help the people she hated. It was a question for another time. Ronald glanced at Roe and back to the female. “If you have any problems, let me know. But other than that, keep an eye on her,” The officer spoke to the medic. Roe gave a stiff nod and looked back at his patient. A man with a bullet wound in the shoulder. And Spiers turned around and began to walk off.

As he walked, he quickly began to feel frustration bubble within himself. The image of fear etched across Y/N’s face when he had first seen her within the church, had remained burned within his mind. This was the first time he felt genuine remorse. He couldn’t tell if it was from how pretty he had found her, or the sincerity in her begging for her life. Or was it both. He hated it. He didn’t like feeling soft. Only hard and just his normal intimidating stature of an officer in charge. He wanted to brush it off, but the remorse filled his stomach with an odd feeling. He thought he was sick at first. But instead, it was butterflies. He hated it. He didn’t know why he was feeling it. But he was.

A story of love at first sight. And he didn’t know it. And neither did she. But Ronald wouldn't be one to come out and say it.