#eueueue

Simon

mentions of gore, suicidal thoughts, PTSD

The explosion had been nasty. Your leg had been blown off and the rest of your body was heavily burned to the point you barely looked like yourself. After waking up in so much pain, you felt like screaming. They should've just let you die. You weren't yourself. You were a monster.

The prosthetic you were hastily given while they made you a custom one was.. horrible. You had to learn how to walk again - how to live again.

While on supervised rest, Simon had heard you beg in your dreams to let you die. The mumbled "please let me go let me die please I don't want to live like this" a repeated mantra that plagued your dreams.

Simon knew a thing or two about being mutilated, burned, scarred - and he would promise himself to take care of you.

When you finally got your fitted prosthetic leg, he held your hand - figuratively and literally - throughout the process of getting used to walking again. Then running, then jumping, then so on. He helped you fight again. He helped you use your leg as an advantage.

You couldn't feel it? Great. Kick the shit out of your enemy. He'll feel it.

He would massage your shoulders and neck in the quiet moments where you stare off into existence like you're not fully there. He would hold you when you sob about not being able to feel anymore. He was there when you had moments of PTSD when one of Johnny's explosives went off a little too close for comfort.

You learned a lot about Simon. About his past, about.. everything. It made him feel less unreachable and more human.

On the last day you were required to be under medical attention, Simon pressed a small but meaningful kiss to the crown of your head. He had murmured: "you did it, love." and then he left you alone with the gravity of your achievement.

Kyle

Fluff and rage-baiting

You were hard of hearing, which wasn't too bad for you in combat. You didn't need noise-cancelling headphones or stuff like that. You didn't flinch at explosions or gunfire or loud aircrafts overhead.

But it was a struggle in day-to-day life.

Kyle would try to get your attention while you munched on a sandwich in the corner of the mess hall, practically yelling his ass off and still you couldn't hear.

But what he didn't know, you had been given hearing aids from Johnny after he convinced the medical staff to order you some. That being said, you could hear Kyle perfectly fine and chose to ignore him.

One recruit in passing tapped your shoulder and pointed to Kyle, and you looked up and followed his gesture. There Kyle was, screaming his heart out at you, and you pretended you couldn't hear him.

"What?" you would yell back.

"I said, give me back my hoodie!" Kyle replied, hands cupping his mouth as if that would do anything.

"What??" You repeated, expertly hiding the smirk on your face with the sandwich.

Let's just say he ended up stomping over to you and dragging you by the ear like a grandma to make you give him his hoodie back.

Price

Hurt/comfort-ish

Suffering with fibromyalgia ruined your life. Constantly fatigued, always in pain, all of it with no relief.

Because it wasn't something that's "visible", it's often discounted as you being "too lazy" or "dramatic" when everything you experience is ten times worse than a bullet through your body.

So you've decided to just... shut up about it.

They can't see it, so why should you express the discomfort you're in. Everyone thinks you're lying, anyways.

But then Price confronts you. He's seen the way you wince when you think nobody's watching. How you massage your wrists and roll your shoulders for almost five minutes but to what looks like no avail. How you flinch at loud noises and how you constantly doze off in the corner of the rec room.

He himself suffers with chronic pain - albeit not the kind you're used to. As he gets older, the stereotypical "old man pain" places start to hurt. But he pushes through, because a captain can't be weak. Can't be vulnerable.

One day, he comes up to you and just... hugs you. He lets you feel seen without the words, without the explaining. He holds you tighter, a silent "I see you, you're so strong" in the gesture.

Johnny

fluff but stern fluff if that makes sense

You, with a heart disease, should NOT be participating in an energy drink chugging contest. As soon as he heard your voice amongst the clamoring of the recruits, Johnny rushed over and ripped the drink out of your hand.

"The fuck is wrong with ye?" he scolded with a glare that told all the recruits to scram. "You could die from this, ye know."

You, in return, roll your eyes. "I know my limits." You didn't. You just wanted to feel included - wanted to feel normal. Johnny looked you over once and shook his head. He pulled you closer and rested his head atop yours.

"It's my job to look after ye, and I can't do that if you're willingly throwing yourself into a state where your heart'll act up." Patting your shoulder, he let go of you. Upon seeing your pout, he smiled reassuringly.

And I can’t clean up her roots until I go to the store and get potting soil for orchids.

And I also need latex gloves because orchids are very sensitive to touch, and I’m just, and, and—

—It’s fine.

Everything’s fine.

c’mon, get to work!!