mimiii!

He doesnt respond immediately, eyes closed beneath his mask as a nurse injects something else into his arm. It’s secured with a cotton ball and tape, his arm limp when the rest of the medics leave to deal with other injured. The door clicks softly, and you approach closer this time, eyes softening as his cracks open.

“Rookie.” He grunts, teeth grazing each other from the strain in his lungs. “Help me back to our room, will ya?”

You blink, surprised, mainly because he definitely shouldn’t even be allowed out of the infirmary in this state. “Huh? Wait, let me ask the nurse first-“

“I’ll just do it myself then—“ He shakes his head and lets out a low groan as he pushes himself upright, swinging one leg off the bed. That immediately makes you panic, quickly coming to his side to catch him. “Okay! Okay i’ll help, lets go. Lean on me, okay?”

You’re suddenly thankful for all your training, because he is heavy. The hallways are empty at this time, only the stray soldier practically running down the corridor for something or the other. He leans against the wall as you click your key in, opening the door and helping him towards his bed.

“Thanks.” He lets out a huff, and you straight up frown at him, fists clenched. He notices, obviously, looking up at you with narrowed eyes.“What’s yer problem now?”

“You said you’d come back safe!”

For a moment he genuinely raises a confused brow at you, one hand tugging off his mask and tossing it onto his desk. “I’m breathing, no? Do you want me manicured or something?”

You deadpan at him and he just rolls his eyes, reaching for a t-shirt hanging off his chair to slide over the multitude of bandages— hiding them from you. “Could’ve come back a bit cleaner at least.” That gets a laugh out of him, lips tugging up into a small smirk as he fixes the t-shirt over him. He’s not usually this.. relaxed, which is weird. 

Tonight, you curl into your own bed, although still watching as he leans back, stretching his legs on the mattress. You can't keep your eyes off of it at all even if it makes your gut clench every time a sliver of red peeks out. Something about this tells you that you shouldn't do too much trying to help him like you usually do. Despite Price and Gaz insisting he at least has some fondness regarding you, this is the first time he’s actually been injured like this in front of you. And it looks bad. 

This is not tidying his side of the room, or getting him a meal post op, it’s not even the same as when you convinced him to let you make him a ‘healing’ smoothie. You snap out of it as his head sinks into the pillow, the light flickering off soon after.

—-

The next day your eyes are glued to him whenever he enters the room. Annoyingly, he was pretty good at ignoring the pain and was already happy to ignore most of the medical advice apart from the medication and advised foods. You had yet to see him hit the gym thankfully, but he did take a leisurely jog around his usual route. Still, you couldn't let go of it, lips always set in a soft frown as he walked around without a care.

“Does he always do that? Just carry on even after those injuries?” You ask Gaz at lunch, whilst Ghost talks to Soap opposite you. 

“Yeah, we’ve tried to change him, trust me.” He sighs, patting your shoulder before shovelling another forkful in his mouth. It’s not only Ghost who looks worse for wear though, they all do. Gaz is practically forcing the food down and Soap’s mohawk is tousled and damp, strands weeping sadly— it’s not a good sight for any of them.

You wish you could do something, but everytime you get a bright idea all you can think about is how naive you probably are. This wasn't normal exhaustion, this was bone deep. It could be the weight of a hundred lives on their hands, hell even millions. What the hell could you do? And if you even so happened to mess something up, you can't stand the idea of giving them more work. Especially after Price and Gaz had to bail you out of that fight only a month ago.

So you do what you believe to be the most rational thing— avoid them all like the plague. You can't do any harm when you’re not near them, right? Plus, you didn't want to admit it, but when asked why they weren't eating as much Soap had just sighed, saying “Don't worry about it.”, and it hurt more than it should’ve.

They’re not wrong you suppose, technically you don't understand it at all. After all, you’ve never experienced what they have.

Every night you take a quieter routine in your room, making extra care to be very fast in the bathroom and then keep to your side after. You curl into bed, pretending to sleep as you watch Ghost move around. His steps are heavier now that he’s injured, no longer quiet and he only falters just slightly, and only ever in the confines of this room. Sometimes he looks over and you have to quickly shut your eyes, but he never approaches either, always heading to his desk or his bed. It reminds you of when you first met him, the nights you were terrified of him getting annoyed and just tucking yourself into the uncomfortable couch. It’s been forever since then.

He’s out for most of the next day, you heard from Gaz in passing, so you sit in the room during the day for the first time in a week. Your side is tidy, not quite neat, but nothing that could trip him or even make him huff about. He’s clean as well, but you can't help but walk over, setting all his things in the rightful places before sorting and dusting the room. 

When you’re all done cleaning his side, you settle on his bed for a breather, the sheets reminding you of the times you spent curled up beside him. No— you cant give into temptation. You would surely harm him if you did, putting pressure on his injuries, or you’d kick him in his sleep or wake him up at odd hours. Besides, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, you really weren't in any place to wish for these things. It’s only by a stroke of luck that you ended up in Ghost’s room, and then even more that he let you talk to his team. 

Something sickening forms in your stomach as you sit there, eyes drooping at the thoughts eating you alive. It doesn't help seeing the soaked bandages in the bin next to his desk, or the empty painkiller packets. The fear was only half of the reason, truthfully you couldn't stand seeing him so injured either— but what kind of soldier did that make you? Probably a weak one. Only further proof you were way out of his league.

———-

“Hey kid, you doing okay?” Kyle’s hands are tucked tight in his jacket as he comes to where you’re sat on a bench outside during the usual mealtimes. You’ve been avoiding the mess hall and eating your lunch out here, so naturally you looked at him with wide eyes and stuffed cheeks when he caught you. “Looking like a squirrel there, huh?” He chuckles, sitting down next to you with his eyes still trained on you.

“ ‘m fine…” You mumble through the food in your mouth, hands clutching your box as his gaze washes over you entirely.

“Dunno, you’re acting kind of funny recently.” He adds, eyeing you suspiciously and then flicking open the lid of your takeaway box. It was only Wednesday, and you really shouldn't be having the greasiest food known to man in the middle of the week, but you also had a habit of stress eating. 

“Dont tell Ghost.” You plead, groaning when he starts to chuckle and just steals a chip with a nod.

You were hoping that would be all there is to it, until he shakes his head and leans back. “Nice try, I know that's not all it is. All week you’ve avoided us, private.”

You hated when he called you by that, making you groan again especially now you had to confront the truth.. or at least part of it. “I’m not avoiding you. Just keeping out of your way— it’s clear you're busy.”

He blinks, not really buying the excuse, but it does make some weird sort of sense he supposes. “Really?”

“Yeah.” You stuff another forkful in your mouth, and he just nods, slowly. When you look over you still see that exhaustion lingering, evident by how he turns his head to hide his yawn. 

“Alright. But.. you don't have to. At least come and sit with us, don't have to say anything if you don't wanna.” He hums before slowly standing, mumbling something about getting a good night's sleep and then he’s off again.

————————-

His words had left you wondering if you were going overboard with all this, after all you’ve barely exchanged more than a sentence with any of them for days now. So when you come back to the room that evening, you’re disappointed to find no sound of anyone within the room. With a soft sigh, you drop your bag by the door– a shower would surely pass the time until he returns again. He must be getting better by now too, so at least you won't have to feel queasy just seeing his bandages wrapped around him. 

You find out halfway through soaking your hair that your shampoo is completely empty, not even a backup one in the sink cupboard. He’s not back yet.. right? As carefully as you can, you get out of the shower, drying your feet on the mat and wrapping your body with your bathrobe before peeking out the door. “Ghost?” You speak out just incase but luckily there’s no sign of him at all, making you breathe out a sigh of relief. You rush through to your wardrobe, kicking your bag and accidentally splattering water everywhere from your wet hair. Oops.

In the end you get your shampoo without Ghost sneaking up on you— you’d never live that down. 

Wait, why the hell were you even acting like this? 

Ghost is the same person who wrapped his arms around you in his bed less than a month ago and the same guy who kisses your head everytime before he goes on leave. You were totally fine, hell you could just go ahead and hug him right when he enters. You towel dry your hair off after redressing, already thinking about how you’d approach him after being distant all this time.

“Hi Ghost sorry i avoided you like you were going to infect me can i please sit next to you as you do your work but of course if i annoy you please tell me to fuck off!”

Right, no, he’d definitely just give you a very strange look..and find you annoying like those privates who butter up to any higher rank they see. Most soldiers on base have already whispered that you are one of them and you do not want any more allegations.

Infact, it’s been like that for a.. while. You dont know when it actually started, just that it did, and it swallowed you. Every snicker, every point, every word too far for you to hear— it started to mix into one. Barracks Bunny. Boot licker. Suck-up.

No one has ever actually directed it at you, but you can feel the stares. Why would a girl like you, know a taskforce? How does a girl like you move up so easily? 

And it’s all too easy to get consumed by it, after all, it’s all the chatter going around. Nepo baby soldiers being able to do whatever they want, the rumours about night services that no one can actually attest to and now this— now it could be you. 

You’ve dragged them all into it— havent you? That’s what they’re all saying, ‘seducing’ them to your every whim. Manipulative, catfishing little—-

A loud thud echoes in the room, making your eyes snap to the bathroom door, especially when curses follow as well. 

Quickly you open the door, panicking. Forget the rumours you’d get no more hugs, no more team lunches,  no more sitting in the rec room and using his card for uber eats when you’ve killed off your lieutenant.

You look towards where the thud echoed, only to find Ghost upright. A sigh of relief escapes you as your heart starts pumping normally again until you realise you had just killed Sergeant Mactavish who is on the floor and cursing bloody murder.

“Are you okay?!” You hurry over as he rubs his face, grumbling as he looks up at you. 

“Yea, just bloody peachy— who the hell leaves water puddles all over the floor?”

You, that’s who, but you choose to ignore that part as you help him upright from where he had face planted onto the floor. His nose is bleeding, probably a noticeable bruise there tomorrow too, and you only notice now that Ghost is clutching his side. He lifts his shirt, cursing under his breath as he kicks the Scot with his foot. “You bloody idiot, why’d you start swinging when you fell huh? Now you ripped m’stitches.”

Your mouth widens in horror now that you realise you injured both of them in the span of one stupid mistake. In fact you think you might just burst into tears, beg for them to have mercy and forget you then ask for the next solo mission out of here. The only reason you wouldn’t quit is because that’d be the cowardly way out though you will have to consider releasing a public apology video.

“I didn't mean to- i didn't—“ You stumble on your words but he just shakes his head, Ghost snatching a tissue from the box on the dresser and pushing it towards Soap’s nose. 

“It’s his bloody fault for charging in— I tried to warn him but he was too focused on other things.” He rolls his eyes only for Soap’s jaw to drop, spinning around to him. 

“Ye did not warn me!”

“Not my fault you can't hear.” He retorts, grabbing his shirt and tugging him back out of the door.

“Well, we’ll be back later. Looks like a medical trip is due.”

And then, before you can say anything more, they’re both gone and leaving you standing here like a fool.

-

You pack your backpack hastily, swallowing down the guilt each time a new wave comes. After they left, you chased after them, only to hear Kyle telling them what he had talked to you about. You didn't stay after that, afraid they’d agree you’d only messed up things more and instead went around asking your friends if you could stay at theirs for the next week. If you stayed here any longer you’d only cause trouble and it’d be more like babysitting. Besides, you’ve long since passed your stay, the new barracks block was due to be ready any moment or so you heard. 

Stepping into the bathroom, you put your usual products in the bag, before hesitating on the shampoo. Even though it was technically yours, Ghost regularly used it as well. It’d sort of become a thing now, especially since it came at a cheaper discount when buying in bulk. You pick it up, running it over your hands and remembering the times he let you have baths for a whole hour. Sometimes he did have to knock and you’d hide behind the shower curtain whilst he grabbed the mask he hung up to dry, but even then you’d still yap his ear off and he’d listen.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

You drop the bag as you spin around, met face to face with Ghost as he stands in the doorway. The last time you were caught like this was when you had accidentally seen him without the mask for the first time.. and you suddenly grow embarrassed remembering how you told him your opinions on his looks.

“I’m staying with my friend.. for a bit.” You say, trying to make it seem like it’s any other day and not because you’re actively escaping him.

“No— no way. I’m not letting you.”

“Ghost—“

“Simon.” He corrects you and you didn't even realise you’ve been only thinking about him with his codename recently. “You’ve been avoiding me all week. Why?”

“You’re so busy, i’d totally get in your way!  Besides.. I’ve been outstaying my welcome long enough now..” You smile, phrasing it like its something to be expected but he only scoffs, stepping closer. 

“What? Is this what Kyle was talking about?” His mask is off, and you realise you don't often see his face truly harden like this. You wonder if this is what his enemies feel like, even if you’re seeing the whole of it rather than just the eyes. Either way, it’s intimidating to say the least, leaving you frozen in place as you stare up at him. “That’s bullshit, we’ve been fine for months livin’ like this. Tell me the truth.”

“W-well.. I couldn't stand the sight of all the bandages at first and then I saw the team, and they were equally exhausted and..” Each word makes you want to swallow harshly, but you owe him this much to say the truth and nothing but it. “You all walk around with the country on your shoulders.. I barely get asked for more than recon. Must be a little bit irritating— i must be so insensitive all the time scolding you.. about sleeping with wet hair.”

The poorly disguised insecurities doesn’t go unnoticed, neither does your own damp hair from the same shower that sent him to the infirmary. “So? I can't make a souffle, but I can tell when one is pretty shite. Don’t need to be a war general to know that the wet hair thing is bad..” His arms cross over his chest, challenging you to tell him more— the complete truth. 

“It’s not like that i..” You don't want to say he’s wrong, and you don't want to have this conversation right now when he’s so tired already. “I can't relate to you, I can't understand what you’re going through, and I know you’ll brush me off if I worry over your injuries.. I-i’m going to end up getting on your nerves.”

“Tha’s just stupid, you know i only stop you from fussin’ because i can handle it. Never said it annoys me.“ Stepping forward once more, he’s only inches away than the last time and though it should make you blush, you cant help but buzz with even more anxiety. 

“You don't need to say it— I know I’m nowhere near your reputation! Everyone knows how pathetic I am, of course it's my own damn fault for trying to look past it too.” With one last groan you shove the shampoo bottle in your bag that’s still on the floor, frustrated that he couldn't see the obvious truth. 

You start to walk forward, ready to move past him and get out of this room. Look at you, making him argue with you. If anything this was just proving you even more right than before. You really were useless when it comes to this.

“Tha’s it, I've had enough.” He puts an arm out before you can walk past, hand low and not even tensing his muscles.

“Go away, ‘m going.” You huff out, ruder than usual in an effort to get him to give up. However, you kept trying to move his arm only for it not to budge in the slightest. Dammit he had a t shirt on too so it was practically laughing in your face that he wasn't even straining his muscles. “Move—“ You try again but to no avail, letting out a huff before promptly trying to duck under his hand.

He hoists you up by the scruff of your shirt, effortlessly placing you against the wall to your right before letting you go. Then, just as you’re about to argue he steps closer, arms crossed over his chest. “Tell me how to make it up to you.”

You stare at him dumbfounded, had he still not realised it? Maybe Lieutenants were immune to all rumours around this base, actually it’d make sense. Guess there’s one thing he’d never get about you.

“You’re not the problem—”

He pinches your cheek as you start to speak, making you frown and rub at the reddening mark left behind, instantly quietening down. “Clearly am if you’re leavin’ me. ” He sighs, but all you can do is continue to look at him in utter confusion, his face holding nothing but regret. “ ‘m sorry I havent been talkin’ with you either. I didn’t want you to see me like this— all bloody y’know?”

“A-arent you going to mock me for getting upset about that..? We’re soldiers, i should be used to blood and injuries but..” All you can do is fall quiet as he chuckles, shaking his head.

“Mocking ya wouldn't do anyone any good.” He leans in a little, just enough to make your eyes lock onto his. “I wouldn't want to see you like that either, for the record.” He’s still got you trapped against the wall as he speaks out the soft words, regret swirling in his eyes, one hand coming up to gently play with the free strands of your hair.  Finally he lets go, settling on cupping your shoulder, and then grazing down to your waist.

“Want you right here, rookie. You cant give me yourself for this long, and then snatch it away cause’ of a load of rubbish goin’ around base that you know isnt true.” 

Your eyes lock onto the dog tags hanging around his neck. The metal glints in the low light, reminding you of the burden he carries; you could never get one big enough to compare to him. “I..” You begin, a million things on your tongue, yet still your brain and heart conflict with one another. One side doubts everything, wallowing in the ‘truth’ of all of this.. the other wants to desperately believe every word he says.

When you still don't finish, he swallows sharper, gently clasping your hand. “You do know that, right? 

Your eyes immediately snap up to his again, the genuine concern in his eyes pulling at the blood vessels surrounding your heart. You’d be a damn liar if you said it hadn't already synced with every change of his mood.

“I’m not anything special anyway.” The shrug of your shoulders is soft, like how quiet your voice is. It kills him more that its more acceptance than insecurity now, like this is something you’ve prepared for and known your whole life.  “You dont have to..”

Lie. Pretend. Sugarcoat it.

That’s what you want to say to him, and to somehow soften the blow for yourself. Because you know it's coming, that he’ll get frustrated with you one of these days, that you won't just get it like everyone else. If you do the harm first then no one gets hurt— it's the easiest way out.

His watch buzzes where his hand grasps yours, grip only getting firmer with each of your words. You both glance down at the text from the Captain, something urgent maybe, who knows. 

“You’re busy— i’m sorry for keeping you..” 

You pull your wrist back but he only grabs your other hand too, stopping all your movements. Then, just as quick as he had done it, he crowds into your space, body stopping you from wriggling away. “Bullshit.” His hands abandon yours, leaving them to frame your cheeks instead.

“Simon—“

Its soft at first, his lips against yours, until the tips of his fingers gently grasp at your hair, drawing you in. It makes your limbs go weak, your heart overpowering any conflicting thought until your eyes are closed shut in the hopes he’d never let go.

“I’ll say this a million fuckin’ times if ‘ave to.” He breathes out, the rough scar on his nose brushing yours as he lets go, the calluses on his fingers brushing your face. “I want you. Here, right now, and it wont fuckin’ change. Yeah?”

“Y-yeah..” You practically squeak, anxiety quelled by his firm reassurance.. and the physical one too. Your hands reach out before you can stop them, finding home in his dog tags as you plead for more, desperate for him to take every last drop of air in your lungs.

He notices your eagerness, but also the tremble in your voice and in your fingers as they clutch the tags. “C’mere.” So, he pulls you in, your hands finding comfort in clutching at the back of his shirt as he holds you close. “You fuss anymore, hm? Wont believe the rubbish going around?” You nod your head, nose brushing his chest, soft promises falling from your lips. He can feel your fingers fidget as he easily flattens your concerns— even your breath trembles slightly. 

“If you have a problem, you come and talk to me about it. No more running away— we handle this like the damn soldiers we are.” 

“I.. promise. I- i will.” You nod quickly again, blood pumping even faster with being so close to him after something so.. sudden. You cant help but replay it over and over in your head, face burying into his shirt to hide the burning warmth in your cheeks. He tightens his grip in response, nose tucking against your hair and breathing the scent of you in, the strawberry shampoo and the perfume you liked. He hasnt touched you since he left for the mission a month ago— it feels like heaven to feel you like this again.

When you fidget again, moving back to tilt your head up and nervously look up at him, he raises a brow. “Go on, tell me.”

“Can we do that again?” Your hands slide to drape around his neck, eyes soft and almost watery. “Please?”

The plea makes even him soft, and he nods, pushing you back against the wall as he leans in once more, your eyes already shut as you grab fistfuls of his shirt.

—-

“Simon!” You squeal as he throws you over his shoulder, forcing you over to his side of the room. “You’ll rip your stitches.”

“Don’t worry, they’ll be fine. You can check ‘em for me.” He sets you down on his bed, turning around briefly to tug off his old shirt and replace it with the soft sleepshirt you bought him on a one off. For some reason you insisted he had dedicated sleep clothes like you did, and well, he couldn’t let them go to waste.

You frown at his lack of care, and he groans playfully, sliding onto the bed before effortlessly manoeuvring you beneath the duvets with his arms wrapping around soon after. “Oh come on, sweetheart. The whole week you ‘avent let me touch ya once and you still wont cause of some stitches?” He groans, burying his nose in your hair as he pulls you flush against him, pulling another yelp from you. It’s silent for a little while he takes in all he’s missed like he’s been starved— technically he has you suppose. It should just make you roll your eyes, but this time your stomach is all queasy and cheeks still hot.

“I made you rip them..” You wiggle in his grip, managing to roll around to face him.

 “That was Johnny, not you.” Unlike you, he wasn't fazed at all at the fact you two had just had your very first kiss. Meanwhile you were barely keeping yourself from running into the bathroom in an attempt to get your face to cool down.

He notices it though as his arm reaches past you to click off the main light, only the soft lamp behind him glowing now.“You look nervous— like I'm gonna eat ya.”

“Well how would I know? You could.” That makes him chuckle, especially as your petty frown still stays, harsher almost.

“Alright, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” He appeases your complaints, hand rubbing your shoulder as you get comfortable next to him. “I should’ve asked beforehand but to be fair.. You looked like you wanted to eat me too y’know–”

“You freak!” You groan, slapping your hand over his mouth and turning his words into muffled gibberish,  his eyes creasing as he smiles. Still glaring at him, you drop your hand and let your head thump against the pillows, rolling onto your back. He props himself up as you stare at the ceiling, his eyes watching every soft movement of your body. This time he waits for you to speak, letting the silence sit comfortably.  “Can I see them..?” 

He raises a brow, following your gaze to where his shirt has risen, showing the bandages peeking out. He nods, sitting more upright before lifting his shirt properly, letting you see the clean white wrapping around his body. The shallower cuts are left uncovered, and your fingers reach out, not quite touching but instead tracing the scar as it deepens. “Do they still hurt?”

“Pretty used to it now.” He murmurs, surprised by the way you handle him so delicately. He always assumed that someone worrying over him was cowardly. Someone to be pitied was someone who needed protecting, and he swore he’d never rely on someone like that ever again. But now you’re here, only afraid of causing him harm, because you know that you would hate it if it were you.

Finally you trace the edge of the last bandage, humming gently as you tug down his shirt, like the entire process of checking him over soothed the nerves eating at you. You blink tiredly, suddenly feeling the weight off your shoulders now that you weren't terrified of disappointing him, nor harming him. It was so freeing. “So, can I sleep here on weekdays too now?”

“Just using me for my bed, aren’t ya?.” He feigns annoyance, grumbling as he tucks the blankets up to your neck. “And no, I told you, I'll miss my alarm.”

“It's called taking advantage of what you have.” You lean into his hand that pats down the duvet behind you, making sure there's no gaps for cold air to sneak in. “One day a week? Please?”

You were definitely taking advantage of how weak he was for you, that was for sure. So, he closes his eyes, like a sailor covering his ears from a siren’s spell, and you’d be a very pretty one at that. “Mmm… no.”

“Bastard…” You scoff, and he holds back a smile, but you wrap your arms around his middle anyway, settling your head against his neck as you let out a small sigh. He’ll agree tomorrow, you’re sure of it. Cornering him can't be that hard.

----------------------------------

ROOKIE MASTERLIST

COD MASTERLIST

Buy me a coffee?

taglist:

When you reach the mess hall, desperate for a snack after all of that, you groan to find out the vending machine is practically empty. Apart from the ‘healthy’ snacks that taste like cardboard, and energy drinks that were diluted enough to be water, there wasn't even one candy bar. Fine, whatever, you queue up instead. Maybe they have a yoghurt pot if you’re lucky.

No, nearly everything is empty in the fridge and all there aren't even any fruit. What is the point?! You groan as you walk through without grabbing anything, walking out as you head back to your room. Your CO has set you some things to get handled whilst the rest of them are out—unfortunately you were the only one left behind. That probably meant you werent good enough yet, despite the steady improvement everyone’s commented on for weeks.

-

By Wednesday you’re considering just moving yourself to a different base altogether. It’s like most of them have lost all manners, and with the real rookies (you like to think ghost only calls you that affectionately.. right?) around, it’s a headache all the time. Just that morning the fire alarm had gone off and a whole wing was evacuated.

Ghost hasnt replied to any of your messages, so it must be pretty serious. You know you shouldn’t message in the first place, but you know he keeps it on silent anyway so it’s not much of a bother. It’s alright, you’re still keeping track of everything so you can tell him the longest story ever when he returns. He’s always willing to listen, except when he’s really busy. You cant wait if you’re being honest. It’ll be the weekend too, which means you can sleep in his bed. His bed! It almost gives you enough motivation to get through the rest of this week.

—-

You got absolutely no sleep last night, mainly from the fact someone kept coming and banging at your door on purpose. When you opened the door to yell at them, they had laughed in your face, knowing that Ghost wasnt there to actually scare them off. It pissed you off to no end that they ended up flirting with multiple of your friends in the mess hall every single damn day. The worst was Friday, when they had finally all returned.

Some came earlier in the week than others, but with the weight of the mission on their heads, no one really cared for the stupid recruits. With any large mission came a barrage of injuries, and even with your minor medical certificate, you were called to help.

It took hours.

You were called in at nine pm, and it was almost four am now as you were helped to check another round of soldiers. Another man you were working with was supposed to be working with had been sent to retrieve more gauze.. though its been twenty minutes and he still hasnt returned.

Confused, the head nurse calls out to you. “Would you mind going to find him? Maybe he’s asking around for more?”

Nodding quickly, you finish what you’re doing and start speedwalking through the hallways. Your legs feel like they could fall off, but you know you just have to keep going. Finally you find him.. in one of the larger rooms chatting with a nurse.There were plenty of soldiers laying on the beds, most already asleep with their wounds wrapped.

“Did you get the gauze—“

He looks over at you and just rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can i not take a break for like, five seconds?”

“It’s been twenty minutes. Did you get it or not?”

“Whatever. You’re here now anyway, just get it yourself.”

“There are soldiers dying and you care more about getting your dick wet?”

His face grows furious, staring back at the nurse who looks at him in horror since she was too tired to even realise he was trying to flirt with her the entire time. You knew what he was like, having shut him down only half an hour ago. “You like me, right? She likes me!”

He steps forward, forcing you to move between him and the nurse who's just trying to stop another bad wound. “Leave her alone.”

“Tsk.” He scoffs, fists balling as his hands fall to his sides, jaw flexes as his pupils flick between you and the woman. “I’ve been up all night, this isn't fair. She wants me! Do you know how many hours it's been! Seven hours of this!”

“Shut the fuck up.” You snap, stepping towards him now with anger thrumming in your bones at the sheer audacity. This base is in shambles and he wants to act like this?

The thwack echoes louder than you expected and he instantly stumbles back, clutching his cheek as he sputters. “How dare you!”

“How dare you!” You step forward again and he steps back. Coward, you think. “You’re useless! All of you lot are! You think you just own the world? You think everyone serves you!”

He cowers, stepping back until he’s pressed against the wall and your fist is thrumming to punch him in the nose right then and there. No you’re better than that.

“Y-you’re just a fridge protecting the snack.” He spits out, and that gets you, your brows narrowing but you know you need to stay calm because you need to get gauze, and you need to help this poor nurse who just wants to do her job and doesn't have the time to deal with idiots like him and you need to stay awake and—-

The blood spills down his nose almost immediately when your fist collides with the bone, the sickening crack loud. However, before you could bask in the vengeance of it all, a voice echoes out in the doorway. “Oi! That’s enough.”

Of course, now they come, you think. Well who cares, you’ll give them a stern talking to as well. If these soldiers think they can leave for a whole week and then dump this all on you then they can get the exact same treatment.

You turn, blood boiling and crimson trickling down your fingers onto the floor. Only to make direct eye contact with Captain Price and Sergeant Garrick.

Instantly, your face drops, hands laying flat against your side as you come to terms with what you just did. The man whimpers, clutching his face whilst he whines and you just look between them, slowly stepping back.

“Go get yourself cleaned up.” Price barks out towards the man, who nods quickly, eyes squeezed as he rushes out past them. He watches him go, before looking back at you and the nurse. “Come on then. To my office.”

Your feet listen before you do, taking you to where they stand by the door. “Thank you.” The nurse murmurs quickly, before immediately turning back to her work, afraid she’d get in trouble as well.

You don't follow them immediately though, forcing yourself to speak once more— even if it sounds like an argument. “C-can I bring the gauze to the nurse first? I promised I would.” They both pause, and Price nods, gesturing for you to go ahead.

“Alright. Go on then.”

———

“I- I didn't mean to— i just got annoyed and im sorry but he was being so creepy and—“

“It’s alright— I’m willing to turn a blind eye to a broken nose anyday. Just wanted to make sure he didn't start fighting back before I'd actually have to write you up.” Price doesnt pay no mind at all, giving you a small pat on your shoulder and a tired smile. You stare at him in utter confusion, still convinced there was no way he could possibly be serious right now. He should definitely write you up for that, and you can't help but feel like he’s doing a massive favour for you right now.

“I’ll note down his incompetence though. Cant have someone like that working on my team unless its for bait.”

Gaz comes in with tea before you can argue any further, setting the Captain’s before him and yours as well before relaxing right next to you. His knee presses against your thigh as he slumps into the couch with a long groan, eyes slipping shut. “I'm so exhausted..” He had discarded most of his gear when he left, now dressed in an old hoodie and joggers, and most of his face clean from any eyeblack he may have had before.

You felt bad now, knowing they had a longer week than you dealing with all of this and now you were the one making them go out of their way. “Why did you punch that guy anyway, huh?” Gaz’s arm grazes your shoulders as you relax a little more.

“Was flirting with the nurse.” You grumble, sipping on the tea like it was your life line and Price lets out a small hum.

“That all?”

“..And he was supposed to get more gauze.”

They both give you a look which screams they’re seeing right through you. Of course they would, they’ve done interrogations more times than you’ve ever lied.

“The base has been in shambles since you’ve all left. The sergeants spent more time letting recruits butter up to them than anything useful.” They both chuckle as you finally confess ,knowing too well how a week can turn into a rough one.

“Maybe i saved that lad from you then. He’ll have learnt his lesson by now anyway.” Price comments, undoing his top button as he sips down his tea. “Ghost was lookin’ for you, but even he can't escape the post mission cleanup.”

“For me?” You blink, and the both of them chuckle, Gaz sitting upright now to check on your hand. When you stopped by to give the gauze, you cleaned the blood off and went on your away. Luckily you hadnt hurt yourself in the process of throwing such a harsh punch.

“Well, he always goes straight to find you after any assignment.” Gaz says it so casually it catches you off guard, eyes widened so much they look ar you like you just dropped a bomb. “What? Did you think we didn't know you were close?”

“Not like that!”

“Not like what?” Price smirks as he leans forward slightly, and you’re positive that you’re just being used as his entertainment now.

“You know what.” You grumble, but realise that the headache that’s been lingering forever has long since dissipated. “Arent you tired?”

“Barely stayin’ awake. I’ll get a good day of rest soon anyway.” Price and Gaz both give each other a nod in agreement, eyes sleepy and you sigh, leaning into his side more.

“Same.. been helping out since you guys returned at nine. I don't even have an appetite after looking at half the injuries”

Price looks surprised at your claim, knowing that Laswell had called in backup from other bases a while ago. No wonder you snapped at the useless bastard, you were overworked, tired and doing a sergeants job all week. You all fall quiet for a while, too tired from the early hours and the heaviness of everything to even contemplate holding a conversation right now, until you eventually speak the question on your mind. “Where is Ghost..?”

Gaz smirks as he leans back, and Price has to stifle a chuckle as he shrugs himself. “Probably holed up somewhere, we agreed to meet back here though–”

“You got in a fight?!” Soap stands in the doorway, looking way too excited and yet equally as close to falling over and sleeping right on the rug the coffee table rests on.

“Well it wasnt really a fight per se–”

“Did you win?!”

Gaz snickers before getting up to drag Soap to join you on the couch aswell. “No, she’s the one who started it. Punched his nose right in.” Regardless, they both grin with glee at the thought, Soap already sinking into the couch as he leans on Gaz and squashes you against the arm rest. Now that he’s away, you see Ghost lingering in the doorway, mask tugged down and eyeblack scrubbed away.

“We all have beds that we can use.” He huffs, watching Soap lean more and more into Gaz and force you both to become his personal mattress.

“He’s right. Come on, get out.” Price agrees, and you manage to slide yourself out as Soap groans.

–

“I leave you for one week and you get into a fight.” He sighs, mask pulled back up and you just grumble, too tired and with your arm bumping into him multiple times. Now that you were alone, it came back full force, drawing any last energy out from your weary bones. Maybe it’s because you’re comfortable around him, or that you’ve slept in the same bed. Maybe it’s because he always listens, and rarely actually judges, apart from the playful remarks. Maybe you care about him in a way that would be considered concerning to HR.

“He deserved it.”

That earns you a chuckle, and an arm around your shoulders as you turn into the hallway of your barracks. “I bet he did.”

Even when you’re so tired, you still look pissed, which he admires. You didn't before, actually looking placated, but he supposes that relates to being called into a Captain’s office. When he opens the door, you practically kick your shoes off against the wall and stomp your feet on the way to the bathroom. As he joins you, he notices how you brush recklessly, a deep frown in your features as you go through every step of your bedtime routine— even pulling the duvets of his bed over you like its war cover.

“Sweetheart..” He hums, padding over to the bed with far more energy, and you can only assume he must’ve napped during exfil. It takes him only a moment to slide beneath the covers and situate his hands on your arms. Slowly, he rubs up and down, watching the small hunch in your shoulders loosen. So he moves there next, gently pushing his thumbs into the muscles before he carves into your lower back. You regularly complain about getting the worst pain there, so he makes sure to rub well, listening to your little sighs as you let your body go.

“Thanks, by the way. I always notice.” His things were always tidied even if he left it in a mess; he’s noticed that for a while now. Plus, you had even bought him food ahead of time and left it on his desk for him to have when he got back. No one was ever as thoughtful as you, best friend or not.

Wanna talk about it?” He hums, knowing you must’ve had an even longer week than he has. Gently your head shakes no, and he slides to lay right beside you when you roll over to face him.

“I hate them all.” You mumble, almost a whisper and he smiles at your sleepy grumpiness, gently pulling you in with one hand. “..And my oatmeal exploded in the rec room microwave, i tried to heat it up i swear.”

“That’s.. dont worry about it. Do you feel any better now?” He has to stop himself from snorting, gently running his fingers through your hair.

Quietly you nod, leaning into him with droopy eyes and slow breaths. “Thanks, Si.” It’s near silent if not for the fact he can feel your breath on his skin and the tiniest twitch of your fingers on his front. Then, with the last sliver of energy you have, you reach up with half lidden eyes.

He blinks when he feels the gentle touch to the edge of scarred lips, missing all of it in your tired endeavours. Still, it feels like much more, the spark of something far different. Your soft snores fill the room in seconds, nose pressed into the curve of his muscle as you finally let yourself go.

You’re getting the best day off tomorrow if its the last thing he ever does.

—————-

buy me a coffee :)

taglist:

—-

One night turns into two, which turns into three and now you’re convinced you can barely even sleep a good night in your bed anymore. Besides, is it so bad you’re using something that wouldn’t be used anyway? You’re just keeping it good for him until he comes back in three weeks. That’s all.

However, you’re more concerned about the stomach cramps that keep attacking you. They’re not consistent, but they hurt like hell, and sometimes you find yourself doubling over from the sheer pain. The infirmary suggest its something you ate, but they’re so understaffed right now from an operation that went sideways you even felt bad going to them.

So you’ve been suffering for the whole week now, tired of this constant nagging and then the pain disappearing when you finally see the infirmary free again. Your bed is practically covered in your clothes as well, too tired to even think about putting them back like you usually would’ve. Another week to go; you just have to keep pushing through it. Even if you sit on your own at lunch sometimes, and hole yourself in his bed in any free hours you get. One week.

——————

Simon comes back late, well time wise at least. The debriefing would thankfully wait until morning, but that’s only because they had wrapped everything up so nicely. The loose ends had been knotted tight, and he was sure he’d rest easy for the rest of the month until another big threat came up.

The door clicks open and immediately drops his duffel bag on the floor— you wont mind too much as long as you can open the door. Weirdly enough he sees no sign of you, and your bed is pretty crowded with all sorts of things. Did you get sent out whilst he was gone? It wasnt uncommon, so he didn't let his tired brain think twice about it as he headed into the bathroom to clean up.

Most of the grime had been scrubbed clean, thanks to a pretty good sponge you bought him for a recent holiday; at least  he was feeling a bit better. Still could use a glass or bourbon, or something strong enough to let his head settle. He just sighs, one hand rubbing at his face tiredly as he switches the bathroom light off, back into the room again. 

The meds are on the side table, his phone is.. somewhere, and right, set the alarm clock. He yawns wide, one arm cracking with a pop as he selects the time and sets it for the next morning. Perfect, now to just knock out until then.

He’s just about to pull the covers back when something stops him.

Your head rests on his pillow, lips parted as you quietly breathe into the fabric. His gaze moves to your hands cushioning your cheek, and your shoulders hunched as you curl up beneath his duvets, like a content kitten. It’s.. extremely cute, especially the way your fingers lightly hold onto the pillow case.

As best as he can, he sits on the edge of the bed, trying to not make it dip too much as he rubs a hand over your shoulder. “Y’ alright, hm?

“Si..mon..?” You blink wearily, like theyre being pulled down by literal weights. 

“Wrapped up early. Y’ mind if i slide in ‘ere?”

“It’s your bed..”

He lets out a chuckle as your eyes squeeze, sliding in beside you and tucking the blanket over him so no warmth escapes you. One hand comes to gently brush your cheek, running over some strands before he pauses. Your head is.. strangely warm, almost feverish, and now that he thinks about it, you’re not usually this groggy. 

“Y’r burning up— y’ got a cold?”

“No.. i dont know.” You complain, tired and wanting to go back to sleep so he just sighs, rubbing your shoulder as he settles down beside you. He’s pretty sure he keeps some painkillers in his bedside table anyway.

“Taken anything yet?”

“Two paracetamols at one thirty..” 

Well it was only three now. So he couldnt give you more until morning came, it seems. Still, he just hums quietly before his body brushes you properly. You blink a little more when you register the warmth it brings, even if your head feels like its on fire. 

“C’mere. I got ya.” He settles down finally, and starts moving you slowly into him. You melt against it, head on his shoulder as his arms wrap around your back, keeping you close enough. Then his hand starts moving up and down, the soothing motion enough for your delirious eyes to close again.

“Missed you.” The sound is so quiet, muffled into his shirt as your fingers cling to the back of it.

 “ ‘m sorry.”

You settle into a sleep again almost immediately, his body doing more than enough to knock you out properly. He follows soon enough too, holding you close against him.

—

When morning comes, you cant help but think how embarrassing that dream was. Really? Sleeping- No— cuddling with your lieutenant in bed! With a soft groan you try and force yourself up, only to realise you’re so exhausted and your head is practically burning up. The sweat coating your back doesn't help you feel much better either, and all you can do is groan as you try and push yourself upright at least against the headboard.

As embarrassing as the dream was, you wish he actually was here. Maybe he could help you or something— or maybe that is wishful thinking. You definitely don't want him to catch you in his bed either, that’d be so embarrassing.

“Good, you’re awake.” He walks through the door, and you immediately yelp, using the rest of your strength to scramble out of his bed and stand up straight next to it, trying to hide the tousled covers from his line of view. “When did you— I- i was just sitting down for a moment, I swear!”

All he does is roll his eyes up at you, mask on today, before walking up to effortlessly pick you up and place you on his bed again. “We’ll talk about your sleeping habits later.” He teases, knowing you can't see the smirk his lips have pulled into. “Heard majority of your team are also falling ill. At least forty percent of them anyway, doubt it's a coincidence. So, where were you deployed?”

“I cant tell you that..” You frown, almost sure this is some kind of test rather than him being actually serious. Sure, you’ve been feeling odd all week, but it’s not actually a real problem, right?

He lets out a long sigh, gently flicking your cheek as he leans down infront of you, eye to eye now. “I’m your Lieutenant, smartass. Where were you deployed?”

Reluctantly, you tell him the location, though surprised when he doesnt immediately get mad at you for falling for that. Maybe he is serious.

“Did you go into a lake?” 

You stop and pause, you did go in a lake. It was kinda dirty and annoying, and right after you had a small scuffle with another too. Your sergeant at the time demanded for you and a few others to look for anything down there. “Yeah.. I did. My sergeant told me to.”

“That bastard..” His hand rests on your chin, tilting it as he looks into your right eye with concern before picking up your hands and observing them. Something seems to register because he suddenly lets go and stands up straight, ignoring your red cheeks in favour of your fever. “Alright, we’re taking ya for a blood test.”

—

You don't get much of a choice as you’re taken to the infirmary by force, his arm looped around your back to keep you upright even if you were more concerned about how messy you looked. It’s not like you liked blood tests either, but for him to suddenly announce it..you probably needed it.

You’re ushered onto a chair in a small room, Ghost thankfully coming in as well with you. The nurse comes over, asking you to roll your sleeve up as she prepares a strap to be tightened around your upper arm. Whilst she draws the blood, you look away, not wanting to see how it fills up the large vial lest you really be sick. Though as you do, you make direct eye contact with Ghost who waits beside the door. Quickly you shift your gaze to the floor, embarassed, though thankfully it distracted you enough that you didn't realise the nurse had finished. “We’ll process this now.” She hums, leaving you and Ghost again.. 

———————-

He takes you to get breakfast from the mess hall, seating you down in an isolated corner and you look around to realise no one from your team really is up and about. His phone suddenly rings as you’re trying to stomach down your last bites, and he starts talking, nodding and voice turning a bit more serious.

You gulp down the last bit of water, relieved you finished everything on your plate without wanting to throw up like the last week. You’ve been eating less and less everyday but with him watching, you wouldn't dare miss a bite today. Who knows what he’d do? 

Okay— maybe you’re being a bit paranoid, but you dont want to worry him too much. It’s embarrassing enough he caught you in his bed. Great, what a perfect time for you to remember that— just bloody brilliant isnt it—

“You’ve got leptospirosis.” He suddenly says, having just put his phone back in his pocket, and you look at him like he’s gone crazy. 

“Lipton what now?”

“Weils disease? Nevermind— you get it from water bodies usually. Your teammates tested positive aswell. Point is, you went into infected waters, and now you’re sick.”

“Well it cant be that bad— it’s been a whole week and i dont even feel that bad. I’m fine—“ You suddenly stand up, determined to start your training. It technically started half an hour ago, so you’re pretty behind right now.

“You’re not fine.” He stands aswell, grabbing your arm before you trip on a chair and land face first. “Come on, i’m taking you back.”

—

He finally leaves you alone when you reach the barracks again, looking at your eyes again intently. “Stop doing that—“ You huff, turning your head and he just rolls his eyes, before checking the phone buzzing in his pocket.

“I’m checking for symptoms, idiot. I need to deal with something for five minutes, can i trust that you’ll actually go lay in bed?”

Truthfully, you really want to say yes and just run off. Or just say no and run off regardless. But if he’s telling the truth and you really have something… it’s probably not a good idea to prance around base. “I promise, i will.”

“Good, I’ll bring you something to drink. Go inside before i assign Soap to permanently watch you.”

With a groan you enter and shut the door tight behind you, slumping against it. Today you’ll let him have it, and then tomorrow you’ll be back to doing your usual. 

Your eyes drift towards the pile of clothes scattered across your bed, realising you totally forgot how bad you had let it get. There’s no way you could sleep in his bed again either, not without losing all your dignity— or what remains of it.

Dragging yourself, you get to work at picking up the uniforms and dumping them into piles. Dirty and clean, and then trying to fold them from there. Even if that does make your bones ache even more. Even your bed probably needs a changing— there’s no way you could sit in your filth like this. The cold sweat you had this morning was bad enough— you needed a total rebrand.

As you bend down to grab the lip balm that felt out your pocket, you feel something in you lurch. Mainly your stomach. Your eyes instinctively squeeze as you stand and the uncomfortable feeling returns head on, one hand grazing your own stomach.

This doesnt feel right— what did he say the symptoms were again? Like the flu? 

“Fuck..” You groan, forcing all your energy that’s rapidly dissipating into staggering towards the bathroom. The doorknob slides beneath your hands as you fumble, desperately trying to get inside. On the third try you finally manage the door to open, the pain wrapping tighter around your stomach like a rubber band threatening to snap. 

Three times you heave into the toilet bowl, one hand clinging to keep you upright and the other grasping at nothing but the air. Your mind is racing with a million thoughts, trapped in a daze as your body keeps lurching what you cant give, your stomach feeling as if it’s been scraped with the dull edge of a knife.

When it finally ends, you sit there with your cheek pressed against the cold porcelain, chest heaving and mind pounding. Your throat is raw like acid has burnt away the flesh, and not one thought has formed in your head in the slightest. 

A small click sounds out from the room over, and you’re not sure how long you’ve actually been slumped here for. “Damnit.. should’ve known.” You hear muttering in the room over, the doorknob beginning to turn again—it’s obvious by the squeak it always makes. The smart thing to do would be to call out to him, maybe ask for help. But your throat makes no noise, nothing at all and so you just let your forehead touch the seat. 

His boots get louder, and the bathroom door knocks the wall just slightly, the silence speaking more than words can. His gloves are left to rest on the radiator you think, seeing the faint blob of black anyway. Plus, his arms look whiter.. So his sleeves must be rolled up too. A loud noise erupts behind you, making your body flinch until you realise its the sound of the toilet flushing.

Your eyes try to focus on the white approaching until the dry paper is dabbed against your lips and mouth, wiping any muck left behind. You’d probably be thankful if not for the fact you could still taste it in your mouth.. 

“Up you get, I got ya.” The sound is muffled, arms suddenly pulled upwards and pulling any last energy out of you. The surroundings start to get blurry, dark spots filling your vision, and you reach forward for anything when it finally turns to black.

—

—

It’s been a few minutes since you woke, but you dont want to open your eyes just yet. Everything is so warm and comfortable now, like you’re laying in a million blankets and pillows surrounding you. Truthfully you’re not even sure what happened, what time it is, or what the hell is going on. But you dont really want to know, at least not for another decade that is. You probably wouldn’t have opened your eyes either, if not for the sudden pain that keeps hitting your stomach every time you readjust.

“Oww..”

You roll over in an attempt to relieve the pain, only for your hands to find something that doesn't quite feel like another pillow.

“Stomach hurts like hell, hm?” The sound is faint and when you crack your eyes open you finally realise what’s going on. His hand lingers on your shoulders, rubbing in slow circles now that your head rests near to where he’s sitting on top of the covers. “Wont go for a while unfortunately. It’s because you threw up so harshly.”

That makes you wince, the memories flooding back as you carefully roll onto your back and stare up at the ceiling. You go quiet for a bit, just tiredly blinking and wondering when the sun had already begun to set.  “You..found me in the bathroom then..?” It comes out more hoarse than you expected, throat parched and as dry as a desert at this point. You only realise now how desperately you should drink some water.

“I did— bloody poor sight you were. If it makes you feel better, just saw that guy you bloody hate doin’ the exact same thing into the base toilets. Imagine what disgusting things have touched those.” He knows it’s a weak attempt, no more than consoling himself, but you still let out a bit of a snort— a very tired one at least.

Slowly you let your arm splay over one of his legs, slow blinking as you start to push yourself upright. “Hey— easy..” He helps you sit against the pillows a bit better, slumped as you stare at the blurry letters on his laptop. “Want some water?” Weakly, you nod along and he cracks open a new water bottle, helping by bringing it to your lips.

“Did I pull you from work..?”

“Not many things to do after wrapping a mission up. Bit of a break too before we dive back into it all” He hums, wrapping an arm around your back so you lean into him and don't get too dizzy. 

“So I took you away from your break..”

He rolls his eyes, one hand coming to gently pinch your cheek. “Stop puttin’ the blame on yourself. You’re bloody sick you know.”

“Is everyone else really that ill?” Your head comes to rest on his shoulder when he nudges—forces— you to. 

“One has been taken into hospital for it. They’re doing scans to see if it's affected his lungs or other organs.”

Immediately your face begins to drop, worried until he quickly shakes his head. "Don' t give me tha’ you’ll be fine. Just a mild version, you have. I’ll be here to help you as well."

You’re not sure you fully believe him, but before you can argue much further your stomach rumbles loudly, reminding you of the earlier incident in the toilet. “I’ll go grab you something to eat, okay? Something dry, yea?”

“Do you have to go?” It’s stupid, way too vulnerable and pretty much the definition of childish. Your face burns in a way that you know isn't a fever, and you quickly shake your head, gaze dropping to your lap. It’s not your fault; you were scared of repeating what happened before. Left alone to slump to the floor in the bathroom.

He doesn't respond immediately, watching as you wilt immediately after your desperate words as he began to slide out of the bed. Then he just walks back, one hand coming to settle on top of your head. “Dont have to. Got a better idea instead, can you walk?”

—

You’re still weak, but the exercise feels a lot better, especially since you are swaddled in thick clothing to stop the shiver in your bones. He leads you, not even that far, towards the rec room. The door is familiar as he swipes the card and lets you both in, before leading you over to the couch.

“Oh— hey, kid.” 

“Hi Gaz.” You squeak out, suddenly embarrassed other people have to see you this disheveled. It’s even worse when his face drops upon seeing you.

“No offense— you look like hell. What the hell happened?” He asks as Ghost leads you to the couch, making you sit down next to the sergeant.

You sigh, leaning back against the couch in tired despair. “It’s this disease.. uh.. Lympa— lypro— lypo…” 

“Leptospirosis.” Ghost corrects from the kitchenette, making you want to groan. How were you even supposed to know anyway?!

“Weils disease? It’s not.. that serious is it?” Gaz looks surprised, and you almost hate the fact he actually knows the disease. 

“A lot of others in my troop are seriously ill right now..” You tell him, leaning a little back into the couch with a tired sigh. 

“One of them is hospitalised.” Ghost adds in, knowing you’re attempting to downplay this.

“I’m not too bad. Probably could just keep train—-“

“No.” The both of them say at the same time, making another embarrassed rush heat your face. Gaz shakes his head firmly, reaching over to get the blanket and drape it over your body. “You have to look after yourself. If the others are hospitalised, you should be just as careful.” He insists, before grabbing the tv remote and turning it on. “Come on, we’ll watch a movie and take your mind off of your stomach aches.”

“How did you know…?”

“You’re clutching your stomach like you’re about to keel over.” He laughs, tucking the blanket over the both of you. You know you saw him before in civvies when you all went out but those were different and now he looks.. comfortable. His sweater is bigger, knitted you think, and it’s warm when he sits beside you like that. Plus, his joggers are even softer, brushing against your hand as he looks for a good movie.

“I- i like your jumper.” You suddenly blurt out, and he gives you his smiles that could brighten the night. Damnit, why is he so good looking too? 

“Really? Soap hates it, says it's too scratchy against him. Pretty comfortable for me though.” Then suddenly he takes out his phone, forgetting the remote control. “Oh yeah, have you seen that thing happening in town in Easter we should totally go-“

Ghost watches on from the kitchenette, heating up the soup he ordered earlier in the small microwave. He hadnt realised how comforting it is to see you smiling again, leaning against Kyle as he talks your ear off about whatever. You and the two sergeants would be the perfect team but you’re still not quite experienced enough for that yet. It’s not like he’s ready to see you on the world's most dangerous ops either; for now you’ll just have to interact with them in the safety of the rec room.

———-

The rest of the week you spend sleeping between the rec room couch and his bed, always nearby one of them. All the medical checkups turn out pretty good too, compared to the others on your team who are unfortunately faring well worse. Ghost had laughed at one of your ex-friends getting badly ill, and you had to smack him for that before you started snickering too.

However, you also had some plans of your own. You’re quite proud of this too—you had managed to figure out Ghost’s schedule. It took a bit of observing, and fake sleeping, and a bit of forcing yourself to stay awake too. But you managed to get a somewhat accurate plan. That meant, while he went off to another meeting, you snuck into the smaller gym that practically no one used. It had less equipment, but you didn't need anything fancy. A pull up bar and a treadmill was everything you needed to get back into shape.

Everyday you’d sneak off, no matter how your body ached, trying to keep yourself in shape regardless. It was exhausting, but Simon didn't bat an eye when he found you flat asleep when he came back, practically snoring too. You might’ve thrown up a few more times as well, but that’s something he doesn't exactly need to know. Not ever.

——

By Sunday you’re woken up much earlier for once by the sergeants who invite you to get lunch. It should’ve been good for you, finally fill your stomach with some better food that you’ll actually keep down. Except… you threw up just last night after spending too much time on the treadmill, so looking at this menu has you in a daze. Eventually you settle on a vegetarian breakfast, knowing meat might just make you gag right now. At least the omelette went down in one bite.

When you return to the room, you feel bloated after having to eat it all with a bright smile so you don't feel bad. It is your own fault for lying to them anyway. Ghost still isnt back yet, and laying in bed will only make you feel worse at this point. So you opt to do something useful, especially as you remember everything he’s done for you this week.

First you clean his gear, soaking them in the bathtub even as your body aches every time you bend down. Then you scrub the grime with a rag, sitting down on the floor to stop the onslaught of dizziness.

“Stomach full?” Ghost comments as he enters, assuming you’re washing up in the bathroom.

“Yeah, never had steak that good in my life.”

“That’s good, i’ll be back in around two hours. Call if anything happens, okay?”

He goes easily, not suspecting a thing as you hang up the gear on the shower rail. It took a lot out of you than you expected, half tempted to throw up again but it settles down as you lean against the radiator sighing. Right, floors next.

There’s a small mop you keep in the bathroom cupboard, a foldable one, and the floor in the room is looking a little worse for wear. You manage to heave up the rug on your side, throwing it onto your bed with a loud huff. The dust under makes you want to groan, but you push through the sickly feeling in your stomach and start mopping. Just when you think you’re done, ready to collapse into bed, you remember the gear hanging up. Damnit.

You teeter on the stool as you take it down, foot almost slipping but you’re so exhausted you dont really care. They get folded back into his drawers, and you blow the damp ones with a hairdryer before packing them away too. By the end of it, you just collapse onto the bed, not even with the covers on. Your body aches from head to toe, but at you’re satisfied knowing you did something for him in return. Now you can rest easy for a little bit, not feeling like a burden anymore.

———

“You must be bored lying here all day.” He mumbles after waking you up only half an hour later. You’re still weary, blinking up at him as he grabs his jacket from his cupboard. 

“Where are you going..?” You mumble, watching him slip it on along with his thicker gloves. It was pretty cold outside today. 

“Someone needs to check on the outdoor training cabins. Apparently some idiots set something off out there last night.” He pauses, looking at the slightly bitter air outside. “You should come too, come on, you’ll feel worse laying here all day.”

—

The thawing plants crunch beneath your feet as you make your way up the small hill. You definitely needed some fresh air after being locked up for this long, and the smell of the forestry made your mind feel a lot better already. Although.. you were still exhausted to your bones and the steepness of the rocks definitely didn't help. You were determined to hide it though, not wanting him to see through your lies.

You both reach the cabin, noting the charred flooring from something hot going off, and some nearby skewers… and an empty marshmallow packet.

“Oh hey— mine from last year are still here.” A grin forms on your face as you shift one of the benches, the packet falling to the ground just for him to raise a brow at you.

“You came here without any permission and roasted marshmallows?”

“Why are you looking at me like I committed a crime? Don’t tell me you’ve listened to every rule in the book—“

“I knew you were still a rookie.” He scoffs, nowhere as serious as his voice usually is and you just giggle.

“So that means you never broke the rules, huh? Wow, didn't take you for the goody two shoes Ghost. Kinda defeats the whole skull thing you got going on.”

His eyes narrow at you, before he looks around the messy area and just nods. “Well, you’re not sick enough to insult a higher rank, and admit to vandalising army property clearly. Better start cleaning before i write you up.”

“Ha ha, very funny.” You roll your eyes, before he starts walking away from you back down the path. He was supposed to deal with this— not you. Did that mean he was serious? 

“Okay! Okay— I'm doing it, I'm sorry!” You scramble to help him pick the litter up, shoving the dirty skewers into the black bag he had thankfully bring along.

Luckily, he has mercy on you and only makes you bring down two of the bags down to the bins, but you do acknowledge that you should probably tidy the mess the next time you go for a feast in the woods with your friends. 

You frown, tossing the large bag into the bin and dusting off your hands. Scrubbing away the burn marks wasn't particularly fun either. 

“Guess that week of rest really was good on ya.” He hums, leading you away from the setting sun and into base again. “Come on, lets walk to the mess hall too. Stretch your legs.”

—-

This was not a good idea, if disobeying him earlier was stupid enough, you were truly finished now.

Your vision was becoming dazed with every step you took, just trying to get your tray had you fighting to see properly. He was talking to Price who had just arrived, discussing some other things you didn't know about— but at least the focus was finally off of you.

You just needed to survive this meal— that’s it. Just walk forward, place the cutlery on the tray, get served your meal, grab a water bottle, walk away from here, navigate the bustle of stupid cocky soldiers and slow walkers, place your tray down and—

No- no- no. You cant- you’re right there. You just need to sit— just sit down and-

“Kid? You okay? Lookin a bit dizzy there..” 

Someone places their hand on your shoulder but all the added weight does is send you over the edge. Black spots start to form in your vision, the tense coil that had wrapped your chest tight finally letting go as your body starts to move on its own. Shit.

————————

A battlefield, shots firing all around, you can feel the water soaking your shoes, seeping into your socks. Still, you push forward, head pounding and aching. You were supposed to be back up but even that had gone south, the only hope would be to regroup and push them out from another direction. It was too early to give up— there’s still hope. Even as your friend goes tumbling down, even as your hands dive beneath the water and the crimson starts to spread in it.

Your eyes snap open, heart thumping until you feel a heavy hand trapping your hand down. 

“Dont sit up too fast, you’ll faint again.”

That makes you panic even more until you see Simon’s unmasked face hover before you, lips set in a tight frown and a slightly narrowed glare. 

“You wanna explain why the cameras picked you up in the gym across base?”

He’s pissed.

You part your lips to argue, wanting to try and justify what you did, only that you cant. Of course it was wrong— you did everything with a heavy heart full of guilt. Guilty of going against him, but also burdening him so much the past few days. 

The deployment was your first real one, and it was terrifying. Not enough to make you regret what you do, but you certainly felt your heart in your chest more times than once. Who were you even meant to tell anymore? The taskforce would have probably done hundreds of ops in their lifetime, your miniscule first one was the least of their worries. And then you just had to go ahead and get sick. You went ahead and just ruined everything. 

Your teeth chew at your lip as you struggle with the onslaught of guilt and regret, mixed with the sharp stomach pains and a pounding headache. “I’m sorry..” is all you manage to croak out, throat dry and hands barely managing to clench at your sides.

“I want an explanation, not an apology.” He sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking down at you. “You’re only making this worse for yourself, you know that right?”

He watches as you slowly push yourself up, trying to hide your wincing the best you possibly can. Your head hangs low, the tightness starting to wrap around your chest again. “I know.”

“I’m not bloody angry... Just look at me, alright?” He cups your chin, gently making you look towards him.

 He’s worried about you– of course he bloody is. You just collapsed in the middle of the mess hall, and now he finds out you’ve been pushing yourself to the brink of exhaustion all week. Tears prick the corner of your eyes, lip trembling more the longer you stare at him, the answer lingering on the tip of your tongue. “What happened?” It’s quieter, less of a question to you but also to himself. How did he overlook your obvious suffering? 

“He got shot.” You whisper out, and his hold loosens, letting you drop your head lower until you’re staring at the covers again. 

He knows, of course he knows. It’s the same guy who's been annoying you for who knows how long. He distanced himself from you after you moved teams, and he had also accused you for getting into it from other means– thankfully he just thought you were a nepo baby and not another reason. But when shit hits the fan, teams merge, and the differences you had before doesn’t matter when you’re fighting for your life. 

Yeah, you probably should hate him because he left you like everyone else did, but you just can't. He was your friend since recruits, and now you’d never even see his face to seethe at. 

Never again.

It makes the tears finally start to leak, and he pulls you in immediately, letting your face bury into the curve of his shoulder. “It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay.” He doesn’t know if it’ll help, but he does know that he could’ve used the same when it happened to him for the first time. That’s the worst part too; he doesn't have the heart to tell you this is only one of many. He can't tell the future, but maybe just maybe, he can help you right now.

“Everything h-hurts, Simon. I know i-it shouldn’t affect me so much– and I-i was doing so well and then I got sick and–” You sob into his shoulder, his hands firm around your back, pulling you in so tight. 

“It’s not gonna go away quickly.” 

He confesses, pulling you back so both his hands can cradle your face, his thumbs gentle brushing where your tears spill. “And it’s not gonna stop hurting for a while.”

“B-but what am I supposed to do then–I cant–”

“Talk to me.” He leans in, close enough your noses could brush but it’s the only way he knows can make you listen- to snap you out of your own terror. “You think I haven't felt like you have before– like we haven’t had the exact same reactions?”

You blink up at him, eyes wet and reddened and you’re surprised. It makes him chuckle, of course you thought he was unstoppable; no wonder you still looked at Johnny with starry eyes. 

“I ‘ave nightmares all the time, we all do. Sitting still makes it worse, i’m guessing that’s why you couldn't stand it.” 

“Promise you’ll talk to me, alright? Even if it’s in some cryptic morse code you learnt online.” 

He adds on, and it makes you snort just a little. You were becoming more like him by the day, not that he was particularly proud of that fact. But at least you were only a fraction of stubborn that he was. He did like how easily you accepted his help though, and how cute you looked with a little smile now and teary eyes.

“Okay.. okay, i promise.” 

He lets out another sigh, squeezing your cheeks where he has them cradled, watching your eyes instinctively shut closed. Slowly he leans in, lips brushing your forehead, your nose, and he pauses for a split second before deciding against it and going for your hair.

“Will you be fine if I order some takeaway?” He tilts his head, wondering if there was any more vomiting he didn't know about.

“Depends, if it's nothing too oily.”

“How about some chicken ‘n rice, and a nice hot drink?” You nod and he moves to sit on the bed beside you, before gently pulling you onto his lap. It’s probably selfish how much he needs this more than you, but he can't stand to ever see you that weak like you were before, eyes barely open as you lean against the toilet. It was too familiar to the dead men he sees in his dreams.

Your head goes back to his shoulder as you melt into the hold, body still aching and moving a limb right now is more exhausting than ever. “You’re right, i’m still just a rookie.” You huff, still convinced he’s lying for your own sake.

“I’m always right.” He gets a small pinch from you for his comment before brushing his hands through your hair. “Nothin’ wrong with it though. Wont learn any other way than experience unfortunately… all soldiers grieve though, it’s one we all share.”

Your hands come to settle around his middle on instinct, taking whatever comfort you’ll get whilst he’s being so kind. But he doesn't really seem to care today, not even if you cuddled up to him all evening you think. 

“I missed you a lot when you were gone… and i slept in your bed the since the day i came back. ‘m sorry.”

“Can’t deny, I was caught off guard by you in my bed.”

“You can't get mad at me, the situation was dire.” 

He laughs, shaking his head and patting the top of your head. “ I’m not mad; you looked pretty cute actually. I mean you were all cuddled up in there, blanket up to your cheeks, a teddy  against your chest, a little bit of drool hanging from your lips—”

“Okay— okay I get it.” You would’ve elbowed him if it were any other day, but your arm felt like they jusr might fall off altogether if you did anything else. He seems to acknowledge that too, given that you havent moved an inch since. “Can I sleep here tomorrow too..?” You ask, a small sniffle making its way through you. You knew that your bed was now clear and you could definitely just go back to sleeping there but you didn't want to.The pain and exhaustion would definitely be gone by tomorrow anyway. 

“No.”

“What—?!” You retort, ready to argue with him before he sighs and his heavy hand rests on your side, curling around you properly.

“Let me finish. You cant on weekdays..”

“Why not?” You groan, not wanting to go back to that bed again.

“Because you’ll turn my alarm off.” He answers, giving you a deadpan stare even as you pull away to frown directly at him.

“I’ve never done that!”

“You fall asleep before you even realise.”

——-

The food had come soon enough, and he had let you sit there and eat it whilst he occasionally handed you a spoonful to help the constant ache. His laptop was propped up too, a movie you liked playing as he finished up some last minute documents. But when that was all over, and you started nodding off against him, he slid beneath the covers with you.

“I missed you too.” He murmurs, thumb running over your eyebrows as you tiredly blink at him, registering the words in your head.

“Really..?”

“Yeah. We all thought of you every day. Johnny wanted to get you somethin’ when we were abroad, but unfortunately ambushes dont wait for us to get into the gift shop.”

That makes you giggle, light and airy as you roll onto your side to grin at him. “It’s okay, i appreciate the sentiment anyway.”

“I’ll take you out for somethin’ nice when you’re all better. Only if you look after yourself.”

You nod eagerly in response , already thinking of all the places you could take him too and he stifles another laugh. With a small yawn, your eyes start to drift close, laying close enough that he knows you’ll probably end up sprawled on him during the night. “Night, Si.”

He hadn't expected the nickname, but it was endearing nonetheless and he let out a low hum in return. “Night sweetheart.”

For the first time in months, he missed his alarm the next morning.

—————

buy me a coffee :)

rookie masterlist

A/n oh my freak this is so flippin long i just wanted a bit of fluff and then suddenly 7k words broooo

taglist:

It’s true, whilst they had been knee-deep in the gritty details of terrorist movement, you were on an Easter break in London. When you had returned, you brought plenty of new tea flavours and of course a tub of luxury coffee for Soap. It was actually because your friend bought you it from abroad, and it was sickeningly too strong for you, but you and Ghost kept that part from him and hey, he was a happy man nonetheless.

“Alright. Tell me if ya find ‘er kay? I’m technically meant to scold her for not showin’ up without notice and all.” And with that he’s gone again, leaving Ghost to resume his workout. 

He carries on for a while, only thirty minutes, but that was an entire half an hour of torture. You had come back late last night, looking exhausted after some sparring with your friends, but you wore a grin when you greeted him and when you said goodnight. This morning you even looked fine, though he left before you woke up, and even when he saw you at the mess at lunch you were happy and fine with your friends. So where were you? He grunts as he places the bar back on the holders, removing the heavy weights since the lower ranks would struggle and probably injure themselves trying.

Thankfully you were only late, or so he assumes so because he sees you the next time he walks by the training room. Again by the water fountains, and in the mess hall. Still, you seem oddly stiff, like your limbs have been glued together. He quickly snaps himself out of it though— you were found, and it was none of his business.

———

He’s just about to head towards the mess when he decides he should probably take a shower beforehand, else he’ll stink up the entire line and have Johnny groaning in his ear. And Kyle too.. damn he has good shampoos. So he retreats to his quarters, opening the door silently like he always does— it actually has scared you many times. Not that he’d ever admit he does it on purpose.

“Y’know, people were lookin’ all over for you t’day. Had Soap asking me this mornin’ and Price in the afternoon.” He says to your curled up form on the bed, not really paying a second glance until it registers. You.. don't usually come here early, nor do you curl up aimlessly like that anyway. Even worse is that you’re still dressed in your uniform.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to cause trouble.” You mumble out, voice apologetic and not even in the terrified way that typically amuses him. 

“Figured you just napped without an alarm again.” He replies, watching you carefully as he pretends to get on with his things, grabbing a towel from his closet, and clothes for after his shower. For a second he contemplates asking you what’s wrong, but that means acknowledging he really is protective over you. Or maybe Soap’s words are getting too far into his head.

By the time he’s done with his shower, he’s already thinking about all the loose ends he needs to tie up tonight, well after dinner in the mess that is. Though he’ll probably just bring it back here and work on both at the same time. His eyes flicker to the clock, noticing the early time. It was good, this way he could avoid the rush and the two sergeants asking him to eat with them.. and then promptly get concerned at the nonstop work he’s doing.

It’s only when he finally steps out does he hear the small hitch in breath, one that only screams pain, one he’s heard a million times in interrogation rooms— just when they’re about to crack.

“Y’alright..?” It comes out before he can stop it, stepping up beside you to see the way your body is coiled tightly with shoulders hunched, clearly in distress. “Did you eat something bad?”

Though instead of confessing you just shake your head, curling further into yourself as you refuse to answer or respond. “Hey— tell me. I’m serious.” If he was anyone else, or you were just being annoying, he would’ve pulled you upright by the scruff of your collar. Not harsh enough to harm of course, but some drill sergeants could be that mean. Instead he peers over, trying to get a better look just for you to totally hide your face in the pillow.

“I’m fine.” You croak out, everything in your demeanour down to the crack in your voice sounding like misery. “Just- go get dinner..”

“Already told ya, I’m not having bullying rookie allegations on my head. Fess up or I’ll force it out of ya.” Tugging off his glove, he places the back of his hand against your forehead, noticing the warmth starting to rise. Gently he tries to roll you over by your shoulder— so he can assess you properly of course. But of course, you’re too stubborn, legs pressed firmly together and curling in more on yourself, arm tightly on your waist. “You’re heating up, come on, don't make me get the Sergeant to scold you for insubordination.” 

Surprisingly, you don't even react to that, which is weird considering how terrified you seem to be of him. In fact, out of how long he’s known you, this is the most unresponsive you’ve ever been. 

With a soft sigh, he sits on the edge of the bed, peering over your shoulder so he can inspect you this way instead. He was right, about the flushed cheeks that is, and the obvious pained expression on your face. It was probably nothing more than a cold but—- 

He blinks when he sees tear marks on your cheeks and in your eyelids, welling as you stayed impossibly still. Yeah, he knew that you sometimes needed a good cry, that was your own odd way of letting steam off. But this wasn't how you usually went about it, and you looked like something was tearing you apart. Then he moves his gaze, noticing the way you clench your stomach, or more your abdomen. “Hurts?” He gestures to your waist, and you nod, albeit very weakly, your eyes opening with welled tears.

Damnit, he can't stand to see you writhing like this, it’s like a gunshot straight through his eyes, and he just nods in return. 

You squeeze your eyes shut again, eyelids wetting and his jaw clenches, unbelieving that you’re still this badly in pain even with it in. Still, this position looks like it doesn't help at all. Nor does your crappy mattress, or the uniform you’re in either. 

He’s not stupid enough that he can’t tell the signs of bad menstrual cramping, but he’s still at a loss here. He knows the basics, from those crappy school lessons about it, and the little parts you get taught when the base occasionally does awareness projects. But he doesn't actually know what you’d prefer, quiet or a distraction, a lot of food or ones that are easy on the stomach. It’s a shitty question to ask, but he knows he has to. 

“Do you want me to call one of your friends?”

Of course, now he seemed like a coward for not wanting to deal with it, which was noticeably even worse than the fact he couldn't deal with it. But he wanted you to be comfortable, not stuck with your lieutenant of all people. He feels instant relief when finally you crack your eyes open, until they turn fearful, and you quickly shake your head no.

“It’s just- girl problems— okay! Please just go, I- i can handle it-”

He falls silent, feeling the slightest bit of guilt that he pushed you, but this seemed to be out of your control than ‘girl problems’ usually were. “I’ll grab you a plate. No arguments.”

——

Still, even though you insisted it wasn't his concern, the sight of you looking like you’ve been shot through your gut is etched into his brain. So much so that he doesn't even notice Price coming up next to him. “What’re you doing wanderin’ around? You wanna grab supper?”

Would Price know? He was older than him, sure, and probably had experience with female soldiers too. So he nods, following his Captain into the mess hall which somehow ends up with the whole team together, treating it like a classified mission or something. He hadn't wanted to tell everyone initially, intending to respect your privacy, but Gaz had a sister, and so did Soap. Plus, he did try to insist that it was for one of his recruits' girlfriends.. though they called him out immediately.

“Did she look really bad?” Gaz asks, having only met you a few times like Soap, but still he didn't like the idea of anyone being in unnecessary pain.

Ghost nods as he stabs his fork into the chicken, stuffing it in his mouth. “Yeah. Asked me to leave so here I am. Promised I'd bring them a plate though.”

“They were in and out of training all day too, always making one excuse or another.” Soap sighs before finishing the last of his water. “Too bad they’re stuck with a grump like ye, Lt.”

Gaz snickers, and even Price’s lips quirk up, making Ghost swallow sharply. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, it’s not like ye gonna actually help them, are ye? Probably just wander around base for three hours until you’re sure they fell asleep.”

That was.. exactly what he had planned to do. What other way was the best guarantee that you didn't feel your privacy was invaded nor got embarrassed over a perfectly normal thing?

“Nothing wrong with respecting someone's space.” He says gruffly, glaring at Soap but this time Gaz chimes in. 

“Don’t crowd ‘em, obviously. I mean, if I got crappy pain all day, the last thing I'd want to do is talk to someone. So it's probably good that you don't even speak that much. They’ll probably not even mind havin’ you there.”

Price shrugs, tugging at his collar at the heat from how packed the room is. “Remember how scared they were of Mactavish? Imagine how they react to Ghost. If Kyle knew ‘em any better, I'd offer him up.”

“They’re not that scared of me. I let them break the rules, that's why.” Ghost groans, and then checks his watch. It’s been an hour, and he’s still no better since when he left.

“Just ask them what they want. No need to beat around tae bush.” Johnny insists, and to be honest, that sounds like the sanest idea of them all.

“And if they want me to stay?”

“Then you stay, idiot. And make sure to give ‘em chocolate, and keep them hydrated.. mainly because I think they forgot their water bottle during training today, and they were too shy to ask to take a sip from the fountain. ”

———————-

There’s a tray in one hand, and the other holding a bag with a heating pack from the infirmary, a thermometer just in case you’re sick too, and he couldn't forget the bar of chocolate he stole from Soap’s stash. He was the one who insisted on it, so it’s only right he’ll provide it.. not that he was told about that.

“It’s still hot, so wait for it to cool down, first.” He says as he enters, closing the door behind him as he drops the bags by where he kicks off his shoes. “You want me to turn the main light off?”

When he turns to gauge your answer, he’s met by the sight of you hiccuping as you try to change your covers, shiny tear marks on your cheeks as you sniffle his way.

“What– stop doing that-”

It takes a few moments of him trying to tug it from your hands before you relent, letting him take the duvet and easily push the blanket into each corner. He doesn't stop there, yanking off the old pillowcases before taking the ones you were holding under your arm.

Though, before he changes them just yet, he suddenly starts rummaging through your drawers until he finds your pajamas...the ones your friends got you as a joke before you left. And the ones that had kiddy cartoon characters all over it. He seems to raise a brow, but you just quickly snatch it off him, and he shrugs. “Go change.” What? You needed to go to the gym and catch up with everything you missed today. Even if you were technically there, it doesn't mean you did it all as you should’ve.

“But—”

“Now.”

There’s no hint of humour in his eyes so you scurry back to the bathroom, and undress, pulling the long trousers and loose shirt on. It takes a little longer than usual, since your body seems to hate you and aches at every small movement. Though that’s also because of the intense training the night prior, it’s not your fault you wanted to get some in before your period rendered you useless in all your extra hours.

You open the door, only to see Ghost smoothing out a new sheet on your mattress. In fact, for a second you watch with jealousy— you could never do it this quickly no matter how hard you tried, the bedsheet never wanted to stay on. 

“Why’re you scowling at me?” He scoffs, but he’s clearly amused, eyes lifted as he looks at you.

“I’m not, I just..hate changing my bedsheets.”

You’re practically looking at it like it’s your worst enemy or something, and he finds that pretty laughable, patting down the last pillow as he finishes remaking the bed. “Well, did it for ya. Clean sheets now, hm?”

“Why’re you even changing them anyway? I thought you were in pain?” He says, resting his palms on his hips as he turns to look at you again. There’s nothing you can say though, parting your lips just to hiccup and walk past him to put your uniform back.

“Don’t like dirty sheets.”

“No one does.” You suddenly yelp as he suddenly places the cold nib of a thermometer in your ear, pressing it against the skin before pulling it out to read. “Temp is  climbing, kid. Come on, into bed.”

Some things he just doesn't bother questioning further, so he lets you sit down, grabbing the tray of food and bringing it over to you. “Gonna change. Soup’s nice, sausages are ehh.. Bread is good, though.”

You stare at the tray, like it’s your mortal enemy, and it could be from how bland the food usually was. The bread is your best bet really, but it looks a tad burnt, or maybe it's the type of bread. The soup looks lumpy too.. is that even meat in there or what? You’re almost afraid some eyeball is going to pop out like those grimy horror movies you’d watch as a kid. 

“I don't think glaring at the food is going to do much for you.” Your head snaps around to momentarily direct the glare to him, before quickly falling because what the hell are you doing? He’s a lieutenant, and he knows like every rule you’ve ever broken and could most definitely get you kicked out in seconds.

“Well, if y’r not gonna eat it, then I’m gonna have seconds.” He reaches around you to grab for the tray, but you tug on it back, a frown curving your lips downwards.

“You gave it to me, you can't take it back now.”

“Well, it’s gonna go to waste, and I don't support glaring rituals with food.”

Without hesitation, you take a large bite of the bread, stuff it in the soup and then take another bite, letting it dribble down your chin. It tastes good, really good, or maybe that’s because you didn't eat as much lunch as usual, and today feels like hell. The soup is so rich, and the meat is soft, and the bread isn't even that hard on your teeth as usual. Soon there’s not even any left, and you have to eat the soup with the spoon, all while you hiccup and start to sniffle again, and again until the tears keep welling, and you can't even stop them.

He stands to the side, pretending to be putting his gear away, but the truth is he can't bear to look away. He’s seen you skittish, intimidated, crying ‘cause you’re too happy, complaining nonstop whenever you get a bruise, skipping at the silliest thing going right, but never had he seen you absolutely wrecked– by nothing but your own hormones no less. Well, for now, the pain would probably be the cause of it again too, but the worst part was that he’s supposed to sit there and just watch. To be professional, he’s supposed to just ignore this all because you’re a bit younger and not as high of a rank as him? That’s what his rationality is screaming at him anyway, insisting you’re pathetic and weak and nothing like a real soldier. Usually those thoughts were what his heart believed too, not that he used that much often either, but hell staying away was usually a pretty good option. This time though.. it was different. You were different.

He doesn't even say anything stupid, not even a gruff remark— he can't get it through his lips when he’s sitting on the edge of your bed, and leaning against the headboard. The bag from before is clenched in his hand, and he doesn't even remember picking it up, already rummaging through for the heating pack. It’s one of those good ones, you click the little coin inside, and it heats up instantly. He carefully wraps it in the little cloth it comes with, handing it wordlessly over to you. In his other hand he holds a bottle of water, from the mini fridge he secretly hides in his cupboard— not that you don't know about it.

“C’mon, drink up.” Whilst you’re gulping it down, desperate to quench your thirst, he gently pulls at the tray, cutting up the sausages and dipping them in what little was left of the soup as if that would save their questionable texture. You eat them as he holds it up to your mouth, sniffling with each one until you finally decide it’s enough, shaking your head.

“The water was really nice..”

You manage to get out, though not without the tears swelling again, and he sighs, getting up to tie the rest up in the bag and put it in the bin. “And this heat pack. I like it.”

“Bet ya do.” He hums, tempted to leave you be for now until your face scrunches suddenly, hands gripping the duvets like you’d suddenly been stabbed. This time he doesn't think, hands gently helping you to adjust your position better, and pulling the sheets up higher. “You taken your painkillers yet?” He had noticed the box on your little table, the packet loose. Meekly you nod, lip wobbling as you look up at him.

“Like.. two hours ago. They take so long to kick in..”

His hand gently rests on your head, a comforting weight as his thumb rubs your forehead, brushing the edge or your brow. “Okay, you’ll have some more soon okay? No laying down though, need to digest all tha’ food.” You look reluctant about that fact, and at that moment he finally admits it to himself. He needs to look after you, for his own sanity.

“Are you gonna tell Soap on me?” You ask, knowing he had been getting (half) mad at you all day for dipping in and out of training. 

“Nah. Was funny seeing him run around like a headless chicken.”

You snicker quietly, imagining him looking for you like you were a lost kid on a school trip, and the thought makes you smile again. Even when your eyes are all puffy, and your cheeks are still wet. “Gonna need a mask like yours if I keep going like this.. sunglasses too.”

“I’ll get you one.” He hums, stepping over to his bed to grab his laptop, meanwhile you're still rubbing at your eyes, doing your best to get rid of what remains. It’s obvious you’re only making jokes to pretend you’re okay— not the first time you’ve done that, but he gets it out of you pretty quickly. “Draw some cat whiskers on for ya.”

“Why do I get a kitty mask? I want a cool one too.”

“Sure, go skin someone alive and take their skull.” He hears your breath catch, and then your head slowly turns to look at him as if trying to find the answer to the question written in your wide eyes. It takes everything in him to not burst out laughing, and instead he finally dims the lights, switching your small one on and facing it away. “And that is exactly why you get the scaredy-cat mask, kid.”

——————

It doesn't take long for your stomach to settle with the food, and before he lets you lay down a bit he checks your temperature, noticing it’s gone a little bit down. You most definitely have a cold coming on, but it’s the weekend tomorrow so he you could take care of yourself fine. Now you just nibble on the chocolate bar, swearing you’ll only eat one every few moments, but you’re already on your third square. 

“Can I sit?” He asks, standing by your bedside, and you slowly nod, shuffling just slightly for him to sit atop of the covers. It was always a plain shirt and warm joggers to bed for him. Comfortable, warm and practical. His blonde hair was out too, tousled, and you almost reached up to fix it if not for him opening the laptop.

“Gotta keep an eye on your cold.. but this paper work is confidential. You wanna watch something on the side?

“I have a cold?”

“Small one, you’ll be okay.” He reassures, one hand fluffing the pillow behind your head, and you lean into it, liking how it felt to rest back like this. You want to, but you were more in the mood of random YouTube essays than an actual movie. Though a sitcom was tempting too…

Eventually Ghost places the laptop half on your lap, letting you look for something on Netflix before you eventually settle on an old looking romcom. It’s those usual ones, where they kind of hate each other at the start, and then gradually get closer, until they’re smitten but neither wants to admit it. He splits the screen, one half with your movie and the other half some aimless documents and of course the actual important things on his lap. 

You’re sitting upright by him, but it’s so dark now with the lights off.. and he radiates so much warmth. He was like a damn furnace truthfully, and after everything you’d been through today, this quiet time was enough to have you melting immediately. Your eyes started to blur as you grew sleepier, occasionally smiling just a little at the romcom. It’s only when you excuse yourself to go to the toilet does the hiccups and sniffles return, the accidental clatter of your toothbrush, sponge, and soap pot setting you off instantly.

This time though, he lets his hand graze your back, and then when you lean in he finally rubs back and forth trying to calm you. “Jus’ tired.” He mumbles gently, his hand moving up to your head as he neatens your tangled hair a little. “You should see Soap post stakeout— can't stand still that one— always cranky until he gets back to base and finally sleeps.”

It eases you, his words, reminding you that you are in no way weak for what you are, and his actions are clear enough that he actually does care about easing your pain. So, as the movie starts to become a blur, and your eyes are empty yet still heavy with exhaustion, you lean in. Your head lolls onto his shoulder, and you let yourself sink into a deep long sleep with the terrifying killer right beside you. Protecting you while you let your guard fall.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Buy me a coffee :)

i wrote this like.. months ago but they werent close enough for it to make sense to post LOL

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You were still debating what to order, lost in your head with only a bit of brain power to stop yourself from bumping into anyone, when you hear someone calling in your direction. There’s a man standing there, definitely more than two decades older than you and practically sneering from the way his lips curled up. “Yeah, ‘m talking you, pretty thing aren’t ya?”

A wave of disgust washes over you, but then again the town isn't too empty, so maybe he wasn’t even talking to you? Hell, you had thrown on any jumper you could find, and these cargo pants were covered in all sorts of muck. So naturally you just kept your head down, walking past so you could get to the café and call it a day.

 “Oi– I’m speaking to you-yeah.” He slurs towards you, and you make the mistake of glancing over, seeing the angry furrow of his brows as you still fail to reply. 

“You’re real rude, aren't you? Here I am being nice, and you’re just acting like a total–”

You’ve dashed into the café before you can hear the disgusting words he calls after you, heart thumping erratically. It’s strange how you can easily go onto the field, fight for your country and take down soldiers bigger than you, and yet still freeze at something as stupid as a creep catcalling you. The barista looks at you expectantly, and you step forward, trying to push the tingle of anxiety away as you pick the first special on the menu.

—

The foam art in the mug still lingers despite you sipping at it for the better part of the past half an hour. Every time you nervously glance up, you can still make out the colour of his jacket as he lingers to the shops beside. You were trained in combat, hell you could probably stop him before he even laid a finger on you, but the disgust that suffocated you was nothing short of evil. Something in you couldn't bring yourself to leave whilst he was still lurking, mind filling with possibilities of what he could say or do. Ones that made you shake the thoughts away as you sighed and took the last sip.

Well you couldn't just stay here forever, and your friends were all out— you had all struggled to stay together recently, and you’d slowly prepared yourself for the inevitable split up. Your thumb swipes at your contacts, all people from home, only a few on base until it stops at Ghost. He would be in the pub a road down by now, or on the way anyway. Could you really ask him for something as stupid as this? Would he even come?

Hesitantly, you press the call button, and soft ringing plays out, almost in time with the café door jingling as yet another customer leaves. Only half an hour until closing.

“What’s up, hm?” His voice echoes out in the speaker, and you’re half surprised he didn't call you kid this time— you feel like one right now anyway, begging your parents to pick you up.

“You–um.. owe me. For that favour I did.”

There’s a pause and then a small grunt in return, that vaguely resembles a yes. “What do you want?”

“Can you.. Come pick me up? It’s the small café on the main street, the blue sign.”

You hear a rustle of a coat, and then he gruffly agrees, before cutting the phone up altogether. 

—

You absentmindedly play with the wooden stirrer until you hear the bell jingle, and he walks in, coat making him seem a little larger than he actually was— you thought that’d be impossible but clearly it wasn't. He notices you, walking over and standing before the table, a black surgical mask covering his face than the typical balaclava.

“.. Everything alright?”

You nod quietly, standing up from your seat and thanking the barista who takes your dirty mug. He knows there’s something up though, you’re never this struck, even if he’s well aware you’re afraid of him. “Speak, now.” He insists, stopping you from leaving just yet, with an arm blocking your path.

You let out a sigh, fingers fiddling with the scarf that hangs down your neck, eyes downcast. “That guy outside was giving me a hard time..” You mumble, and he immediately snaps his head, zeroing in on the man in question. “He got angry since I didn't respond to him and I just.. I don't know, I didn't know what to do.”

You look ashamed, and he hates that, eyes narrowing at the poor excuse of a man still standing there and ogling other women on the street. “Did the right thing.” He eventually says, having weighed up the thoughts in his head. It was better for him to just come, use his presence to intimidate him off, rather than you causing physical harm and probably getting some papers to document that on your record. Not that the court wouldn't deem it in your favour, but still, a lot of hassle. “Come on, where did you want to go?”

He makes sure to glare the man down as he walks past with you, a hand on your back just to prove his point to the creep, and he almost punches him right then and there if not for him scurrying away onto the bus that’s stopped nearby. When you reach the supermarket, you stop outside, turning to him with a nervous look in your eyes. “It’s okay, I just needed to get out of that shop. You can go back now..” It’s a kind offer really, but Ghost doesn't take his chances with creeps, so he shakes his head firmly and ushers you forward.

“No way, keep going.”

—-

You try to rush your shopping in the supermarket, grabbing the bubble bath and body wash as quickly as you could dash to the aisle and back, just to find him looking over the fruit shelves.

“I’m all done.” You say, exhaling a long breath as you place your things in the baskets he’s holding. 

“Alright.”

Still he doesn't move, just grabs a pack of blueberries, and another of raspberries, then moves to the next aisle. You follow, obviously, though still nervous because you were sure he’d want to go meet his taskforce again, right?

Clearly not, because now you were grabbing the things he wanted as he held a basket for you and one for him, going through each aisle. Since you’re here, you decide to grab some snacks— mainly biscuits and chocolates. Though you do feel a little childish when you look down the aisle to see him with protein bars.

“Don't need to show off, you know.” You grumble, placing your high sugar assortment into the basket, and he rolls his eyes at you, his breakfast bars going in as well. “Don't blame me for your cholesterol level, kid.”

“You smoke, and drink!”

“And I’m special forces, doesn't make a damn difference.”

Soon enough you both make it to the checkout, after you giggled at his reaction to you grabbing some menstrual products. He didn't do much, more of an eyebrow raise, but you found it amusing nonetheless. Then just when he’s sure you’ve gone back to being terrified of him again, you stop him from buying himself a bag. “Wait!” He turns to look at you, and suddenly you’re rummaging through your bag. “I brought my own.” You insist, a cheeky grin on your face and clearly very proud of yourself as you hand him a ‘bag for life’ Asda bag. He’s not sure how you manage to always be prepared for all situations, but he takes the bag and starts packing his things inside. 

It’s darkened quite significantly now, the lights in town the only guide for you to follow. As it nears Christmas, fairy lights have begun to wrap around the lampposts too, a pretty sight in the dark night.  However, Ghost still follows you as you walk towards the bus stop you used to get here– usually you’d just carpool or something. 

“Aren’t you going to go back with your team?” You turn to him as you stop at the bus stop, and if he was anyone else he probably would’ve just assumed you didn't want him there anymore. He could see it in your eyes though, the nervous glance at the streets as if waiting for something to pop out at you.

“Nah, got some stuff to finish tonight.” He grunts, and tug your sleeve away from the bus stop to follow him. He had brought his car here since he planned to come home early anyway; not that you had known that. So you reluctantly follow, though your shoulders do drop in relief when you finally make it into his car, a little beaten up but more comfortable than any you’ve been in. 

The drive back isn't that long, twenty minutes at most, and you spend most of it watching the lights pass and letting your head nod to the mindless tunes from the radio. “What did you buy all that fruit for anyway?” You finally ask, the question swaying in your mind for the past ten minutes and finally gaining the courage just now. 

“Soap likes protein smoothies but hates the taste of those powdered premade ones. I make them now and then, it’s a good boost.” He doesn't mention how that’s the only thing that kept him going post surgery a few years back, and even sometimes when he can’t bear to stomach food. 

You blink in surprise, having never had time to bother with things like that and usually just chugging down whatever energy drink you could get. Maybe you could take a page out of his book for once; learning from a special forces soldier would be good if he wasn’t so terrifying all the time. “..Sounds tasty.”

“Much better than your pile of redbulls.” You internally sulk at the personal attack, walking into your room right behind him, and glancing at your little name tag stuck beneath his. It had to be added after one too many soldiers thought he was bringing a fling over every night, and one bastard even created rumours about you. Not that you were aware, you just thought it was for better knowledge.

Ghost was still seething about the stupid man as he walked over to dump out the other things he bought–mainly some new gloves that he’ll try not to get muddy from training again. It annoyed him to no end that someone so disgusting could scare a soldier of all people– not that he blamed you, he had a time when he had to watch his words because he lashed out at a civilian. That’s the only reason he had been so insistent in the supermarket, and silent too, the anger bubbling in his chest every time he thought about his face. 

Letting out a long breath, he turns to see you unpack your bag, noticing the bubble bath mixture and then the array of bath items already on your bed. It doesn't take much to put two and two together– especially when you grab them and quickly try to hide them away. Meanwhile, you were mourning that you definitely couldn’t have a bath with him here now. Damnit, all because of that stupid creep! Though he did say he would've come back anyway, maybe you saved yourself the embarrassment. 

“I’ll be out until midnight.” He suddenly announces, grabbing his fruits and walking towards the door– he could do his work in Soap’s room tonight. “Leave a light on, or I'll put the main light on when I come back.” You had forgotten last time, and he had woken you up with the sheer brightness of it, startling you away at two am. If you knew any better you wouldn’t have yelped so loudly. The door shuts with a soft thud, and you don't waste your time dashing into the bathroom and running his large bath with a happy smile. In your mind, it was a stroke of luck, and you were going to take it, the bubbles blooming quickly when you pour the mixture in.

When he returns that night, the lamp by his bedside is on, and the room faintly smells of post-shower steam and strawberries. When he goes to brush his teeth, there’s a post-it note on the bubble mixture, offering him to use it if he wishes to do so. He probably won't, barely ever has a bath unless a mission is particularly draining, but the sight of your fluffy headband is particularly cute as it dries off. Though, it must’ve been a pretty good bath given how you’re snoring softly into your pillow, arms stretched and looking as content as a kid who got ice cream for dinner. Maybe he will have to try it sometime.

-----------------

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His growl is low and guttural. The mattress shifts as his hips roll forward—just once—pressing the fat head of his cock into your entrance, stretching your velvety channel.

Your body clenches reflexively, aching to be filled by him. Simon groans.

"Gonna go slow, yeah?" he grits out, voice rough, ears pinned back as he watches your expression closely. "Gotta stretch you proper—"

"Don't care," you whimper, nails digging into his arms. "Just fuck me—Simon, please."

That's all it takes.

He sinks in—slow, deliberate, controlled, but still overwhelming.

Your walls spread around him, slick and hot and so tight he damn near blacks out from pleasure. Simon grunts, muscles bulging as he forces himself to stay still once he’s halfway in, just to keep from knotting you too early.

"Christ almighty," he huffs, jaw clenched, trembling as your body wrings him. "Yer squeezin' me like—fuckin'—like you were made f'me."

Tears prick your eyes at the stretch, the pressure. The feeling of one of your kind taking you properly. "Feels s'full—Simon—so nngh big—"

"I know, love," he rasps, and kisses your cheek, your temple, the fluff of your ear—whispering praise in your language, in his, in growls and sighs. "Takin' me so good. Tha's it. Let me in, all the way."

Another roll of his hips and he bottoms out—balls deep—his cockhead pressing snug against your cervix while your cunt flutters around his thickness.

You whimper and wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, tighter.

Simon snarls lowly.

His hips start moving. Shallow thrusts, slow and dragging, letting you feel every inch of him slide against your trembling walls. Your tails curl together again—instinctive, anchoring.

"Good girl," he murmurs, "Such a fuckin' good girl f'me—gonna make ya mine. Gonna fill you up, fuck you full."

You keen at his words, clinging to him, your body welcoming each thrust, already fluttering again with the promise of another orgasm.

"Si—Simon—I'm gonna—"

"I know, poppet," he growls, picking up the pace, breath ragged, "Give it to me."

Your body arches, toes curling, cunt clenching around him like a vice as you cry out beneath him—your third orgasm crashing through you and dragging a desperate, strangled groan from his throat.

"That's it—fuck, that's it," he snarls through grit teeth as he bucks into you harder, chasing his own release, barely holding back his knot.

He slows, just slightly, then thrusts deep one last time and stays there—buried to the hilt as his knot begins to swell and lodge inside you.

You cry out, the stretch intense but satisfying, and Simon howls, hips jerking as his cock throbs and releases hot, thick ropes of cum directly into your womb.

You're panting, twitching, gripping him so tightly your nails leave little crescent marks in his pale shoulders.

He shudders, voice hoarse as he grunts: "M' not pullin' out. Can't. Not lettin' go. Mine now."

A soft whimper leaves your lips as you rest your forehead against his. "Yours, Si."

Simon huffs, chest heaving, nuzzling your cheek with surprising tenderness. "Gonna make sure everyone bloody knows it, too. Give ya a litter come spring."

Then he stills—knotted inside you, panting, flushed—and wraps his massive arms around your trembling frame to keep you there. Connected. Bonded. Claimed.

📩 Inbox filtered older than a week, archived by Atty. Hiromi Higuruma

To: Hiromi Higuruma <██████████> From: Satoru Gojo <dastrongest█████> Subject: A really good question

hey, higuruma!

okay so totally hypothetical not real and definitely not my life.

lets pretend i have a son idk about (crazy, I know) and then let’s say i meet him and he's literally the best kid ever. obviously i start spoiling him because that’s just common sense?!?! .....problem is he's not using gojo????

now this is where my brain starts buffering bc i want him to have my last name but i also don’t want my family jumping me the second i get it done lmfaooo

so in this completely made up situation, how do i /hypothetically/ do that quietly? likeeee no clan drama, no gojo family calling for a divine intervention and all that.

again, purely out of curiosity!! hypothetically!!!! theoretically!!!! blah blah blah. let me know your thoughts! :>

delete this email.

Sent from my iPhone.

💰 Satoru's Credit Card Statement

TRANSACTION DESCRIPTION: DAD OF THE YEAR

Loro Piana Compact Wallet – ¥ █████

Arc'teryx Sabre Bib Pants – ¥ █████

Nintendo Switch 2 – ¥ █████

Every Pokémon TCG Expansion Available – ¥ █████

"Mind you, I'm raising a fine young man with refined taste." – Satoru after Yuta hesitantly accepted his gifts.

TRANSACTION DESCRIPTION: (POST) PUSH GIFTS

Tiffany & Co. Victoria – ¥ █████

Dior 2026 Summer Collection – ¥ █████

Alaïa Suede Trench Coat – ¥ █████

Manolo Blahnik D'Orsay Pumps – ¥ █████

"That's too much for you? Wow. The bar is in hell, I'll tell you that." – Satoru after you gave him an earful about his spending habits.

TRANSACTION DESCRIPTION: UNDER THE TABLE TRANSACTIONS

Legal fees billed to Atty. Hiromi Higuruma – ¥ █████

Performance bonus billed to Kiyotaka Ijichi – ¥ █████

Personal investigation report billed to Yu Haibara – ¥ █████

Secret civil wedding wired to Masamichi Yaga – ¥ █████

"I can hear my parents sighing all the way from here." – Satoru after getting the 'we need to talk' text from his parents.

wia says: so sorry for the typos and all. i went through a lot with this update ;_; [/EDIT: FUCKIN FIXED IT IM SRY]

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📓 Therapy session notes Therapist: Dr. Shoko Ieiri Client: Suguru Geto

1. Separation-related Obsession (while snickering) Client remains preoccupied with his ex girlfriend, though his focus is now expressed as playful attention rather than strategic manipulation.

Giving flowers without reason

Ensuring the twins relay favorable comments about him

Makes sure to put his ex girlfriend's current boyfriend through hell

GETO: The twins tell me whenever she's out for a date. Usually doesn't end well. I wonder why.

2. Flirty Interactions (with a wink) Client frequently initiates situations that are lighthearted, teasing, and overtly flirtatious. Humor and charm are tools to reconnect emotionally. The twins notice his charm but only as “papa being sweet.”

GETO: It's so entertaining whenever she's caught off guard with my advances. It's almost like a fun little game for us.

3. Identity & Playful Control (with a sheepish grin) Client enjoys the juxtaposition of serious cult leader vs. sly romantic schemer. He deliberately flirts with boundaries to test both his own influence and the reactions of his ex-girlfriend, often framing it as humor, civility, or child-centered care.

GETO: I follow the rules… mostly. But I like to see how much fun I can have bending them a little.

DIAGNOSIS:

Scheming, tempered by humor and charm

Plotting Giggle Syndrome. Client engages fully in co-parenting routines; uses shared custody as a setting for humor, affection, and subtle flirty gestures, observed and enjoyed by the twins innocently.

Strategic Mischief Disorder. Unofficial; patient insists it’s “careful planning to get her back”

Prognosis: Client demonstrates healthy capacity for connection, attachment, and playful intimacy. Likely to continue using charm as primary means of maintaining closeness.

Dr. Ieiri's Personal Notes: That Geto.. He’s aware of how audacious this is, and he’s also loving every second of it.

📼 Recorded accounts regarding your previous romantic partners

Name: ███████ Alias: GUY #01 Status: Alive Date Recorded: █████

Transcript Excerpt: Her baby daddy's fucked in the head, seriously. Who the hell sends an after sex update?!

Investigator's Note: Subject appeared visibly distressed while recounting the incident.

Name: ███████ Alias: GUY #02 Status: Alive Date Recorded: █████

Transcript Excerpt: There's something wrong with that guy, but I can never quite put my finger on it. He's weird. Like... weird in a weird way. You get what I'm saying?

Investigator's Note: Subject spent approximately seven minutes attempting to elaborate and ultimately failed to provide a more specific description.

Name: ███████ Alias: GUY #03 Status: Alive Date Recorded: █████

Transcript Excerpt: No, yeah, I think I was a rebound. Clearly, they aren't over each other and probably never will be.

Investigator's Note: Statement was followed by a prolonged sigh.

Name: ███████ Alias: GUY #04 Status: Deceased Date Recorded: █████

Record Status: Unavailable *No testimony was obtained from Subject GUY #04. Records indicate the individual passed away in 2024 following a freak accident in Shibuya.

Name: ███████ Alias: GUY #05 Status: Missing Date Recorded: █████

Record Status: Unavailable *No testimony was obtained from Subject GUY #05. Missing person reports indicate the individual was last seen in Narra in March 2023. Their whereabouts remain unknown at the time of filing.

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