part one here rookie masterlist
roommate!rookie!reader x lt ghost (a lot of price this chapter), hurt/comfort, implied intentional starving (to themself), mentions of physical abuse , happy ending
————————————-
You seem fine, he thinks. It’s breakfast and you’re talking to Kyle about whatever and you haven't actually been acting strange at all. In fact, it’s like you’ve bounced back completely, if not just with probably a few more sore muscles because of those crappy cell beds.
“Like a boomerang, aye? I thought she’d be at least a bit more shaken up after everything that happened..” Johnny murmurs to him as they sit opposite you, thankfully with enough space that you wouldnt hear them.
“Yeah..” Ghost nods in agreement, eyes flicking over to you occasionally. “Still, we’ll have to deal with that second lieutenant accordingly.”
You laugh at something and they both snap back to the conversation, intrigued to know what had gotten both of you so giggly. Everything was going perfectly fine since you were announced innocent by the 141.. until it just wasn't.
——
It all started the day after, when you returned to training with your group.
“Oh, you’re joining us today? Sergeant Mactavish said you might take a break.”
“They tried to make me but I knew i’d be bored out my mind. It’s okay, I want to train.” You give a forced smile as if your cheeks will hide the eyebags before starting your warmups like everyone else. One of them claps you on the back, giving you a grin and mentioning how they missed you for the time you had been gone.
Even training goes well too, like you never left. At one point you had almost frozen up when you were beaten by your opponent, but your instinct kicked in immediately and you scrambled backwards. The Second Lieutenant loved to see you writhing.
Whatever the circumstances, you swore you’d act like everything was okay. The last thing you wanted was to cause any more trouble for the 141.
“Good round, kid.” Your teammate helps you up, grasping your hand to pull you to your feet. “You lost a bit of weight on that course..” He raises a brow at you and then awkwardly pats your shoulder. “Anyway, you did good, and you look stronger too!”
Stronger? Is that what the torture of that course had really done to you?
“Hey— you okay? You look like you’ve seen a gh—“
“Forgot I had to run an errand straight after training. I need to go.” You pull out of his worried grip, his hand left awkwardly in the air as you grab your bag hastily and leave the room with the door thudding shut.
Your chest is tight, like you’re feeling the result of six weeks of abuse all in one moment because of one stupid comment. How did it make you better? It was hell, it was unfair, everyone there turned against you and—and—
“Mactavish— have you done the work I asked you to do?”
There’s about three seconds before you get caught and you dash into the electrical closet, holding the handle so abnormally tight that the red marks start to bloom across your palm.
Dont come in here, dont come near here. Please dont see me— please dont—
You only let out a sigh of relief when they finally turn down the corridor, chest heaving as you struggle to come to terms with it all.
————-
It’s been a day or so since that.. happened. But still lunchtimes were always more dreadful. Especially since you still aren't let out of that forsaken team who really doesn't want you around. To be fair, they’ve been less vocal about their opinions on you recently, or maybe it’s because you just let any fight you had left die out altogether.
“Wow.. you actually lost a few kilos? I never thought I'd see the day.” One of them mutters, but only a few snickers pass around compared to the usual. It wouldn't typically bother you, and you didn't explicitly react anyway. Yet something in you just stilled for a moment, bile churning in your stomach at the thought.
This is what you had wanted—to be approved by them.
So why did it feel so wretched?
You know why— deep down you do. It’s because the Second Lieutenant is the reason for this. Because he picked on you and ostracised you, kept your portion sizes one fit for weak prey and not predators like everyone else is supposed to be. He forced this on you.
How could you even complain? Not when they’re smiling in your face, praising the change about you, the obedience in your actions, the quick reactions.
Even if you’re unworthy, even if you were just forced to adopt all of those traits because that's only what the situation allowed for. Would they shame you if they knew the truth? Would they call you weak for thinking you’re the victim?
You swallow down the bite harshly, so much so you can feel the edges cut against your throat as you force it down. “I didn't do it on purpose.” is all you can say, a weak defence. Then you stand, dumping the scraps and leaving the mess hall.
——
The gym is thankfully empty and you’ve been waiting all week for it to be. It reminds you of all the nights you stayed up, trying to perfect your technique, trying to be accepted for once.
No matter how hard you push your limits, your muscles still cry out in pain, just as your head is consumed by flashbacks of those weeks. Still, you keep pushing to just fight back even a little, to prove you’re enough despite it all. That you’re not weak, and you can handle it, certification or not.
“Drink a little, catch ye breath before the next set.” Soap stands before you as you come up from a curl up, shocking you so much that you fall back against the mat. “Oops— didn't mean to scare ye.” He reaches down quickly to pull you back to sitting up before sitting on the bench nearby.
“S-sorry, I was thinking and you just.. caught me off guard.” Before you can ramble on any longer, you chug down half your water bottle instantly, making him raise a brow.
“Dont worry about it, bon. Just making sure you keep yourself healthy.” He flashes a grin at you, and you nod quietly to his words. Healthy. Not strong.. not thin or in good shape— Healthy.
You part your lips, wondering if you can really ask for this, if he’ll laugh in your face and say he’d beat you in seconds. What if he’s busy too?
“Y’need something?”
“N-no, it’s alright. Was just hoping you hadnt caught me doing too easy of a set, it’s only warmups i promise.” You joke and he laughs, shaking his head.
“Don’t know what yer talking about; this is the hardest part of my workout.” He gives you one last chuckle before leaving you to it again, a wave of relief settling over you.
——————
“Are you holding up okay? You’ve been pretty.. quiet, all week now.”
Now you’re here, Simon staring at you as you unravel your boots. You don't know what had even happened in the past week—everything had been one massive blur.
The nights started being more sleepless, always rolling around and waking up with a tight chest. The comments made by people didn't help either, even if they weren't intended to be rude.
Time started to blend into each other, your mornings started to feel like a schedule and every conversation wasnt worth remembering. You were living like autopilot, and you couldnt really even care.
“I’m just trying to get back into routine…” You mumble out and he wants to call you out on your lying but he really can't this time. He’s been barely around, only giving you a few minutes of his time because he really cant afford anything with this current Shepherd situation. Still, he doesnt like not talking to you like this— hell, he feels like there’s a shift between you two and he hates it.
“Seems to be more than that.” He mutters, letting out a soft sigh as he stands from your bed. Slowly he makes his way to your drawers, pulling out a fresh shirt and joggers for you to wear to bed. “You sleeping in mine or am i coming to yours?”
“It’s Thursday..”
Your eyes do seem to widen a little bit, excited at the prospect even if it’s a weekday and out of his rules. But it’s still much duller than the reaction he was hoping for.
“I want to. When i come out, you better have made your mind up” He doesnt wait for your answer, tossing his mask on his bed as he heads into the bathroom.
—
“Thought you liked my bed better..” He mumbles as he finds you sat on your own, following close behind. He watches as you quietly slide beneath the covers, slipping behind instantly after you settle. “We wrapped up everything concerning the Second Lieutenant. He won't bother you again.”
He lays on his back beside you, an arm laid out which you tuck yourself beneath. His hand curls in your hair, gently scratching at your scalp before tugging you closer until you’re forced to roll over, face pressing against his bicep. “So you’ll be back earlier now?”
“Yeah, no more disappearing. For a good while at least.”
You nod quietly, letting an arm fall across his chest, gently gripping the thin shirt he’s wearing. He continues to move his fingers across your head, stroking gently as your eyes fall shut. Something isnt right with you, but he doesn't know how to point it out after all this time. Especially after everything that happened to you. He can't exactly nose into all your business.
“How about I help you with some training tomorrow?”
At that you stiffen, and he’s suddenly afraid he had said the wrong thing entirely. Instead you look up at him, slightly propping yourself up on your elbows. “Really? You’ll train me?”
“Yeah? Why not? Good for both of us, I reckon. I want to see how much you learned at that course too.”
———————————
“Lieutenant– you’re here already?” You tilt your head as you exit to see him there standing outside the room you just had scheduled training in and he nods, beckoning you to follow which you instantly do.
“Course I did. Promised, I'd help you today, wouldn't I?" You nod eagerly at his words, following him outside so you don't have to push through the bustle of soldiers just to get there. There’s a few teams out on the track, a grouped session it seems, and you’re naturally drawn to the noise.
“Ye got a minute Lt?” Johnny approaches up ahead, making you immediately nod, letting him delay your workout for a second. When he doesn't start immediately talking you get the hint, sheepishly smiling and heading over to a small bench to wait.
“It’s about the recent stuff with the Second Lieutenant..” He sighs and Simon raises a brow, assuming the past few nights he spent figuring it out with the Captain was more than enough. Had something changed? “Price wouldn’t let me look, it’s her medical exam.”
“Thanks Johnny, i’ll read it when I can.” He pats him on the shoulder after taking the files from his hands, ignoring the concern rising. You’ve been doing okay, if he presses further you might get annoyed with him.
“Private, what the hell do you think you’re doing?! Get out– now!”
Both of them turn their heads, not towards the Sergeant yelling across the field, but to your harsh flinch in their peripheral view. Your body had frozen up but you had reacted harsh enough that it was impossible to ignore.
“They’ve done that a few times, Simon..” Johnny sighs, having heard your CO mention it but he wasnt sure if he should report it not. You got startled sometimes– but this was totally different.
“I’ll.. look into it properly.” He stares down at the file as you take a deep breath to steady yourself, seemingly just noticing how you reacted. “Thanks again.”
He can't stop repeating the image in his head as you walk beside him, tapping away at something on your phone. You never even did anything wrong, clean as a slate compared the crimes of the taskforce. Even this medical file has him dreading everything; what would he find in there?
“Alright, come on.” He stills the anger thumping through him, concentrating on you as you stand before him on this mat, the room mostly empty. “Show me what you’ve got.”
———
His hand catches yours and you tense, already expecting the throw down. That wasnt just the Second Lieutenant who did that, your old teammates always finished a spar the same too.
After all, a real fist fight wouldnt end after you surrender.
His do.
“Mmm, definitely a lot faster than the last time we did this. You really did a lot of work didn't you?” He doesnt let go of your hand, gently guiding it where he wants to demonstrate. “Try hit here next time, same move, just aim for this area, okay?”
You nod, trying not think too hard about the fact you can feel his pulse beating beneath your hand, or the slight rub of his thumb on your skin as he helps you. So, you start from the beginning, the same move, aiming there. He staggers back this time and your eyes widen in relief, before immediately panicking once you realise what you did.
“S-sorry should i have not gone that hard?! I didn't mean to—“
“Relax, I wouldnt be SAS if i couldnt handle a good hit or two every now and then.” He chuckles, patting your shoulder and finding his footing again. So you go again, and again, and each and every time he adjusts you correctly, even when your body braces for a blow it hardly ever comes.
It feels.. wrong.
“You’re going easy on me.” You’re chugging water again, like it’ll inject energy directly into your veins, but it’s the closest thing you have right now.
“I’m not gonna punch your teeth in, am I?” He rolls his eyes at your complaints, offering you a snack bar.. annoyingly it is your favourite.
It’d be more concerning if you declined it though, so you reluctantly take it, ignoring the way your mouth waters at the thought of the dark chocolate drizzle on it. It’s been a while since you’ve had sugar, surprisingly.
“You think im weak.” You huff in return, chewing down the first bite whilst feeling yourself start to thrum with life at something entering your system for the first time in hours.
“No one in your team is strong enough to go up against any SAS soldier.” He hums, poking your cheek just to rile you up until you're glaring at him. “And i dont think you’re weak. Don’t fancy dealing with an incident report today.”
“What would you do if i was a real traitor huh? You’d underestimate me, and then before you know if i’d kill you” With your hands planted on your hips, you challenge him, narrowing your eyes.
Unlucky for you, he just chuckles, shaking his head despite your faux serious demeanor. “I’d like you see you try. Now, come on, we’ve got half and hour until dinner.”
——————
You’re in the shower, scrubbing the grime of the day away and he collapses into his desk chair, rolling backwards from the force of it. Something was definitely wrong— there was no doubt about that, but he couldnt just say it outright. You had been a lot more happier today than the last two weeks.
His gaze drifts down to the files Johnny had handed him, and he glances one more time towards the bathroom door before opening it. The card rustles as he undoes the cover, revealing the medical reports beneath, just as he was told. The blood tests show your vitals were lower than usual, along with your measured weight— he’d consider that almost a dangerous low.
To be honest, he had noticed the change himself, but you’d been dressing yourself in a way where it didn't seem this bad. He flicks to the next page, the documentation of injuries whilst out on the trip, delivered by a nurse who had been working there.
You had broken your nose within the first week.
The report states that it was an accident, but after hearing how your teammates confessed to Kyle about what happened, he knows it’s a severe understatement. With each page he turns, he only sees more and more injuries, small and big, but too many regardless.
A loose sheet falls out when he reaches the end, already sick to the stomach, and he recognises it as the information Kyle collected from your teammates. Their witness statements.
—————
The bathroom door clicks open and you stretch your arms above your head, wondering if you should dry your wet hair since it’s already nearing ten pm now. Though when you look up to see him sitting on your bed, his gaze set on you, you pause.
“C’mere, we need to talk.”
The words are heavy, but not harsh, and somehow that scares you a little more. In a way he feels like the Captain did in that interrogation room— what if the accusations were back again? Your heart thumps erratically in your ears as you step forward, your clothes sticking to your damp body like a rope around your limbs. “Lieutenant, I—“
“You never call me by my name anymore.” He suddenly says, and you stand before him— this time you’re the one looking down at him.
“I.. in the interrogation room it felt like i’d get in trouble if i did. I just.. i didn't want it to make it worse than it was.” You stammer out, already well aware that you hadnt addressed any of them by anything other than their rank for weeks now. It felt wrong to pretend you were actually on their level.
He reaches out, hand wrapping around your wrist in a way that has your eyes locked onto him, fighting to not brace for impact like you usually would. Instead he pulls you forward, a small tug that you easily follow, until you’re standing between his knees, his eyes staring up at you. There’s silence for a few moments, and he takes advantage of it to slowly move your sleeve upwards.
“You lost a lot of weight..” He wants to say more, you can tell, but the feeling that’s been attacking you all week suddenly comes back full force, making you swallow. You should’ve known he’d prefer it too. “Y-yeah.. everyone keeps saying that.”
“They’re worried about you too..”
You pause for way too long, and he notices, propping himself up so he can look over at you. “Y’alright? You dont feel ill or somethin’, do you?”
“No- no, it’s just.. a lot of people were glad that’s all. Happy I lost weight.”
“What?” His tone is sharper than usual, and he suddenly turns you around to face him, his eyes narrowed and almost pissed. “I’ll support whatever you want, but this isn't healthy to lose weight this fast. Why would they even say that?”
“Simon..” You begin, his sudden words throwing you off guard. Where everyone else had praised the lasting effects of the abuse, he had validated your feelings— but now it just feels wrong.
He just shakes his head, the rise and fall of his chest too heavy for you to challenge. Now he sees it right before him; the marks where the stitches would’ve been, the fresh pink scars, and the faintest remains of the extensive bruising that was pictured in your files.
“Turn around.” He murmurs and you do, letting him lift you to sit atop his knees and you feel the cool air hit your back as he witnesses the marks back there even worse than the others. Even with the week passed, he can tell— he knows what was here before.
The shirt falls again, arms now snaking to your middle as he pulls your back flush against his chest. “Why didn't you tell any of us?”
“It’s part of the job. You all get scraped up too.” You mumble, tensing when he lets out a heavy exhale, only for him to shake his head against your hair.
“No. This is not part of the job, sweetheart. This is not right—” His words are angry in your ear, fingers grasping the fabric of your shirt as his arms tighten.
“I-it’s bad luck. He just didn't like me— it happens to everyone.”
That’s what they all told you— he was a nepo baby, you just have to deal with it. It’s his way of discipline. There isnt any such thing as unfair or unjust— fairness doesnt exist on a battlefield.
“And who the fuck told you that, huh?” He turns you around in his grip, forcing you to look at him and his narrowed brows. He’s pissed, and you know it’s not aimed at you and yet still it makes you freeze up. “That’s bullshit. No one in authority should ever be sending a soldier to bed looking like this— even if they’re a right twat. You hear me?”
“Simon— we were training, it’s my own fault for not dodging effectively. If I had been just a bit better—“
“Dont say that.”
You pause, looking up to see his eyes shut, one hand pinching his brow as he grimaces. “Training is called that for a reason. You learn the moves, and you practice them. Your instructor doesnt let you feel the effects of a true fight until he knows you can. He abused you, and no one fucking stood up for you.”
You knew that. Of course you fucking knew that.
This entire time you’ve been well aware of what he did to you, how cruel it was. You feel the pain every morning when you wake up, every time you hear a voice rise too high or even worse a hand coming too close. You knew but everyone else refused to.
“I’m not weak.”
“I didn't say—“
“I’m not!” You pull away as he tries to pull you closer, standing before him again. The beat of your heart is pumping hard and you wish your arms could wrap around yourself to contain it tight.
“I- i worked hard the entire time! W-when he cut me off from the s-showers i went down to the lake, when he wouldn't let me eat i rationed- it’s— it’s not— i cooperated for the e-entire interrogation a-and—“
You choke on your own words, feeling that sickness rise in your throat, the guilt and shame swelling it shut. It’s all too much— the throbbing where the bruises once were, the cold bed of the cell, the growl of your stomach. Your palms push hard at your eyes, rubbing the skin raw and red as you force any sense of wetness down— down back into your body. Soldiers don't feel like this— they don't complain and they listen to orders exactly as told. They don't question the system.
“I got through it..I did everything like I was told.”
You mumble through hiccups, making your throat jump as your eyes squeeze shut. “Why is that not enough? Why won't you all just let it go already?” The dam breaks, sobs leaking onto your palms despite your best efforts.
“You shouldn’t have had to do that— none of this is because of you.” He stands, reaching a hand out hesitantly but deciding against it as you continue to sob, sleeves already way past damp.
“It’s been a whole week and i’m still in pain— i’m still acting like this. I- i didn't even get the certification Simon!” This time you turn away, cheeks glistening in the lamplight as you hiccup, too embarrassed of yourself to face him. “It has to be my fault.. you never even responded to my messages once.”
This time, he truly has no answer for. He was planning to tell you why, he really was. But then he got so angry seeing that they took advantage of your proximity to the team and used you as leverage like that. The General of all people stooped that low.
When he just sighs, sitting back down on your bed, you finally take a glance at him, having managed to settle the tears for a few seconds. He looked exhausted and entirely done with all of this. You couldnt help but feel the guilt weigh heavy on your chest.
Every single time he’s forced to comfort you. Rumours, illness, menstrual pain, anxieties and even your own pitiful insecurities. You should’ve known from the first day you showed up here that you’d be your own demise, stuttering like a child as you stood outside his room. What good have you done since that day? Apart from grabbing him a meal or the odd task, you were useless to him. Maybe he was right, you didn't deserve any of this because you werent even someone that useful anyway. Why they’d choose to frame you of all people if beyond you.
For a moment you just stare at him, the muscles in your face tightening and your breaths only getting more frantic. What have you done? You ruined it— he gave you, so, so many chances. And you blew it? Should you beg for forgiveness? For him to hold you one more time? It’s been so long, months since he’s had you properly. One step, you could move forward and maybe he’d give you mercy.
You can barely make a strangled noise before you’re suddenly turning, grabbing your keys, wallet, phone and your jacket, zipping it up high. You don't know where to go, but you can't let him babysit you much longer.
———————————
Maybe you’ll sleep out here tonight, with the quiet ripples of the lake, just like every night you did for two weeks of that course.
It feels stupid to have run away like you did now, but somehow crawling back seems even worse. Not for your dignity, you gave up on that long ago, but because of the fear he might actually be relieved you’re gone.
“Don’t do anything stupid; it’s not worth it.”
You scramble to your feet insantly, spinning on your heel to see the Captain there, his signature jacket wrapped over a warm sweater beneath. His eyes are just as tired as Simon’s have been, but still somehow his authority is strong over you, arms crossed over his chest.
“I- i wasnt going to..” You mumble, slowly shuffling away from where your legs dangled off the edge to stand up properly.
“You’re standing by the lake at midnight, kid. Come here, now.”
He gestures to you to come over, and you instinctively glance at the time on your phone as you slip your shoes on. It was past midnight, almost halfway now— how did time go by that fast? You come to stand before him, hands flat at your side and throat tight as you keep your gaze ahead— like a loyal soldier.
“You’re going to get sick.” He pulls the hat off his head, placing it on yours and making sure it covers you properly. Maybe to hide away a bit of your red rimmed eyes too. “Inside, now.”
——-
His office is warm, but you dont get the honour of sitting on the small couch this time, forced to sit right opposite his desk.
“You can start by explaining why you were out there, on your own, at midnight, looking like this.”
“The Lieutenant was concerned about me and i.. ran away. It was my fault.” You say, voice quiet but clear now that he’s the one asking. It’s been a week since you spoke to him last, when the interrogation was all over and you were free. “He wasn't happy with the results of my medical exam..how i was treated on the course and i.. i..”
You can’t finish your words because you dont know how to describe your response. A disagreement? An argument? A breakdown? It was too embarrassing, but here you are now, your eyes boring holes at your lap.
“I’m guessing you wanted to just move past everything that happened. Pretend it strengthened you, instead of the impact it actually had.” He crosses his arms as he sits down, eyes set straight on you and not moving for a second.
You stare down at your body, the way your limbs feel heavier than usual, the familiar ache in your stomach you learned to ignore. You quietly nod, in hopes that’ll make it somewhat better. “Yes sir.”
“Simon’s right; You didn't deserve any of that, nor me yelling at you in that interrogation room.” He begins, and you listen, not daring to argue for even a second. “If anything, the blame is completely on the 141 this time.”
“Sir—“
“That Second Lieutenant is the son of a General we’ve had.. problems with. I cant disclose it, you understand, but there’s no doubt this was a direct effort to get back at us. That was a cruel attempt to cause distrust between us as soldiers, and weaken us.”
Wait what? You were targeted and this wasnt just because of a stuck up son whose got daddy’s money. “So.. he didn't hate me, he was just listening to his orders?”
“Exactly that, kid. Simon was the one to realise the true nature of this, and the sergeants worked very hard to get testimonies from your teammates on the course. It seems even they had been forced to play along with the lies too.” He rummages around in his drawer for a moment, and pulls out a report of some kind, sliding it across to you.
Slowly you read through it, reading the list of the new orders for the Second Lieutenant or rather his ‘punishments’. The eight month long deployment was in one of the worst places you’ve heard only in rumours, but alas, it was either that or have a case against him for abuse of power. “This is only what’s on paper, you can rest assured that he’ll recieve worse things coming for him.”
“Thank you..” You’re grateful, really, and maybe a but of you is curious as to what that last thing he said means.. then again, Price almost looks proud of himself when you look at him. Did you even want to know what they plan to do to him?
“It’s the least we could’ve done.” He shakes his head at your gratitude, sliding the report back into his drawer again and locking it. “It’s happened now, no changing that. Trying to move forward is the smartest thing to do, but right now you’re only pushing yourself into the ground, kid. And I think you know why.”
You did, you really did. Somewhere deep down, probably subconsciously. You knew that you used the tactics you hated so much on yourself— because if you did it to yourself, then none of it ever happened. It wasn't as bad as you think it was.
“Captain,” You begin, hands grasping the fabric of your trousers, only realising how cold you really are now. He gives you a nod in response, leaning slightly back as he keeps his gaze on you. Your own head lifts, swallowing harshly as you try and look at him without crumbling.
“..I dont want to do this anymore.”
“You want to quit?” He raises a brow, but something in him stills just a little. It’s not often a soldier this far in will end up leaving— he’s only see a few do it, usually due to family problems or other issues that take precedence. Or they always had planned to leave at this point. Did he really drive you to this point? Where you thought you had no other option?
“No, just.. I know i selected that course when i was applying but..” You chew at your lip, and let out a long sigh. Thankfully your tears have all but run dry, so even if you feel like you could bawl your eyes out, you wont. “The whole physical field doesn't.. suit me. I thought i’d be stronger if i did it— like all of you. Everyone my rank chooses it, only a few select the others..”
“So you want to specialise in a different field? I’ll admit, i didn't expect you to want to do a close combat role anyway.” When he doesnt immediately dismiss your thoughts, you perk up a little, looking up at him.
“I- i’m not making the wrong decision, am I? The other ones are still good pathways?” Your eyes glimmer in his overhead light, the red rims of your eyelids practically shining despite everything that’s happened tonight. He hadn't expected the sudden relief when you denied wanting to quit. After all, it was their teams fault that you got in all that mess.
He chuckles, shaking his head at your nervous words— you really were a rookie still.
“Only cocky privates think close combat is the only redeemable job. If it werent for the specialists, the 141 wouldnt get any of our jobs done— that includes Sergeant Mactavish’s knowledge in demolitions.”
You swallow sharply, nodding to his words and taking them in. All this time you’d been so afraid that this was akin to giving up, admitting you’re weak and not cut out for this work. Little had you known that this whole time, the answer had been waiting for you. “Will I still be able to stay here?”
“Depends on what you choose. Might have to take a year out to move to a different unit.” You blink, suddenly terrified by that notion. It’s been a year and a half of living beside Simon, every single day without fail.What would you do without him?
“Relax, kid. You dont have to choose right now.” He stands, coming around the desk and pats your shoulder. “If you dont want to do close combat, you dont have to. But, I should still give you this.”
You hadnt seen him grab the envelope when he came over, clean white and you take it from his hands carefully. It seems a bit smaller than a4, and you carefully rip the edges before pulling out the sheet inside.
Certificate of Completion awarded to..
“This is mine..?”
“The other instructor signed it for you, as well as the General himself. For all the trouble his son caused to you.” Your thumb follows the curve of the signatures, before nodding quietly to his words. He didn't stop you from wanting to do another course even though he knew you achieved this one, with a high score too. “Do you still want to transfer?”
“..Yeah. I do.”
A part of you knew that you always wanted something else but you were too afraid to admit it, fearful of what the others thought. But after everything you’ve experienced in these past months.. maybe it was a sign.
“Good. Then we will talk about it tomorrow after we grab breakfast.” He ushers you up and you follow him towards the door, rubbing your eyes without a second thought. You really were quite tired now, and the time blinks closer to one am. “You’re lucky you didn't want to actually quit.”
“Why?”
“Wouldnt let ya. My lieutenant relies too much on you.”
Your cheeks burn at his words, and you shake your head, hands flailing about. “Sir, that’s not true— he probably hates me now anyway.. I totally freaked out on him..” You cant believe you’re telling a Captain about this of all people, but it comes out before you can stop it, shoulders slumping like a petulant teenager. “Sorry for disturbing you so late at night, sir.”
“I’m the one who caught you, to be fair.” He huffs chuckles, leading you out his office and walking beside you down the empty corridors. “You need to give yourself more credit— you had to navigate an extremely hard situation on your own, kid. It’s not easy having no one to back you. I’m sure Simon, of all people, understands your frustration.”
“You really think so?”
“Swear by it.” He stops outside the room, and knocks before you can, taking the pressure off. You stand there nervously but Simon soon opens the door, eyes softening immediately when he sees you and then moving to Price who had brought you here.
“Borrowed her for a bit” Price teases, a smile peeking through before he nudges you to move forward and you do, your throat bobbing nervously. “Come to my office tomorrow, kid, alright?”
You nod again, and Simon looks between you two before turning back to Price.
“Thank you.”
“Sort yourselves out and sleep. You both look like your soul’s been sucked straight out of you.”
—————————-
“I’m sorry I never responded to your messages.” He says it as soon as he clicks the door shut, as if he cant hold it in any longer. The sheets on his bed are tousled, like he had tossed and turned until you arrived just now. “I read and listened to them— at least the ones before you deleted it.”
“It’s alright, i didn't mean to throw that back on you before, I know you were busy—“
“I wasn't busy.” He lets his chest sink, and you fall quiet, confused to what he’s getting at here. “On a mission, months ago, we had an ally turn against us. He had information he should’ve never had about us— naturally we assumed someone must’ve leaked it. He looked directly at me, and told me to look into the people i know.”
For a moment you pause, unbelieving he had surrendered information that easily. Sure, it was vague, but still more than he’d ever tell.
“Price explained it to me, about the General that’s causing you problems. I.. understand.” You say with a soft sigh, feeling guilty for freaking out on him but he adamantly shakes his head, not taking your words.
“No—I shouldn’t have done that. It was stupid of me to be suspicious of you and i knew it, i did so i dont know why i was.”
He falls silent, throat clogged, because of course he knows why he did it. He doesnt even trust himself, let alone others. You wormed your way in so quickly, he had jumped to the idea that you must be a traitor because there’s no way he could ever act like this. Actually be close to someone. Good things never last with him, and he was sure this must be the catch he was always waiting for.
“When I saw you getting interrogated, I knew deep down it would never have been you. The sergeants helped me realise it. I’m.. really sorry. I should’ve defended you sooner— I should’ve checked on you the night you returned and the entire past week.”
It hurts that he didn't trust you initially, but even a seed of doubt in this line of work is something you must listen to. Besides, he may have not communicated it to you the best, but it’s clear he worked very hard to get you out of the situation when he could’ve just let them ‘handle’ it. And you’re incredibly grateful for that.
“Let me fix it, okay? You can ask anything of me— absolutely anything.” He wants to reach out, it’s obvious by how his fingers twitch but still dont move forward, hesitant.
So instead, you take the leap. It’s like the block between you vanishes, and immediately you wrap your arms around him tightly, squashing your cheek against his chest, right to his heart. The feeling is so foreign and so familiar it has you letting out a deep sigh, eyes fluttering shut. “Just.. hold me, please.”
One hand rests on your back carefully, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear into thin air. Slowly his other hand joins it too, until he’s holding you too. His nose presses against your hair, breathing you in as much as he can. “Y’can sleep in my bed the whole week, hell the month. I’ll do all your shopping, and whatever you need i’ll buy.” The promises are mumbled against the crown of your head as his arms lower, landing on your legs as he hoists you up easily and carries you over to his bed.
Gently, he lays you down, and only now do you see the ointments he has arranged on his bedside table. “What’s this..?” You raise a brow but he sits down next to you, the mattress sinking before he starts to open one of the tins.
“For your bruises, it’ll help. Roll up your sleeve, okay?”
Your mind eases as he spends the next few minutes rubbing soothing ointments to the aches in your joints, before pulling the covers high and sliding in beside you. The lamp flicks off and he wraps his arms around you, easily dragging you with how your limbs have become dead weight.
With you settled atop of him, looking content and not as miserable as before, he can finally let the anger leave him, chest sinking against your head. Sleep hasn't weighed so heavy on you in weeks, laying like a thick blanket over your mind now that you know you’re finally free from this torment.
“Y’asleep?” His voice is quiet, probably expecting you to not answer at all. You were seconds away from drifting off aswell, but something in you forces you to let your eyes open, glancing up at him.
You give a lazy noise in return, and he chuckles, hand grazing your neck. “Just glad you forgave me. Don't know what i would’ve done, might’ve got on my knees and begged.”
“Still got time.” You mumble and he laughs, nose burying into your hair as he squeezes you tight.
“In the morning, you need some good sleep for once.” He breathes out another sigh, letting silence fill the air once more, and the weight of you on him settles deep into his bones. He made the right choice, even if it was terrifying. He refuses to ever regret meeting you. “Don’t think i didn't hear your stomach rumble earlier— i’m gonna get you eating normally, y’hear me?”
Fuck— you were praying he didn't actually hear that on the way back from the mess— right after you had literally eaten dinner. It just had to go and start making noises, didn't it?!
“I am eating normally.” You grumble, weakly pushing away from him in a weak attempt to express feigned annoyance at his insistence. Not that he lets you, easily pulling you flush against him again.
“I’ll just tell the chefs to pile it higher on your plate, they aint gonna say no.” He chuckles at his own admission of abusing his rank’s power, and you attempt to hit him with your elbow, failing easily.
“But if i use your rank to get a better dessert that's somehow a crime.”
“Dont make me bring up your dentist reports.” His hand rubs up and down your side, letting the warmth of his hand ease you. “I’ll get you some bloody good dessert for the whole month, you’ll pray the mess hall even gets close to it one day. Now, sleep, before I put you out myself.”
“And they say chivalry is dead.” He lets out a snort at that, only to hear your breathing finally even out against him, chest sinking.
Still, he just quietly watches your body relax, how you completely let yourself be at peace. He wants to engrave it in his mind, because only now he’s realised how easily he can lose you. This time his hands splay across you too, gently grasping your shirt like you’ve done to him many times too. He understands it now— he’s always the one leaving you behind— he knows what it’s like to miss you like this.
His grip is probably selfish, something Johnny would poke fun at him for and Kyle would say he’s ‘actin’ a little desperate there?’ whilst Price would nod along ‘like he’s starved’. But he lets himself have it this time, eyes slipping close as he lets himself sink the same way you did. If he didn't, then one day he’d regret it a million times over. Luckily that day wasn't today.
So instead he lets the breath that’s been keeping him stiff go, breathing in the scent of you that melts his mind into jelly. “Night, love.” He murmurs, his breaths finally evening out to match your pace even in his sleep.
—————————
buy me a coffee! Rookie masterlist
sleeping so hard tonight im exhausted and the examdidnt go well, also fr going on a break now i need it thanks for the support hope you guys like this :)
Simon likes to pretend like he’s indifferent to you. Like he couldn’t care less about your presence in a room.
But you know the truth. Of course you know the truth. Because how couldn’t you know?
It showed up in minuscule ways.
The scent of mouthwash, fresh on his breath, every time he chose to visit you.
The way his eyes would flick back and forth from your face, as if you weren’t painfully aware of his staring, when you sat next to him in the helicopter.
The way his leg would bounce erratically when it was just the two of you in the break room, sorting through files without Price’s watchful eye—like two teenagers on a first date, trying to muster up the courage to kiss before their chaperone returned.
It appeared when he saved the last dregs of coffee in the pot just for you. Or when he hovered over the climbing anchor, just to help you up after a steep trek. Or how he always pretended like he wanted his space on team movie nights, until an hour had passed and his thigh was resolutely pressed against yours.
Simon told the boys he thought you were annoying. That even after all this time, your presence set him off, like you disrupted the flow even now, a year into joining the team.
But by the way his pupils follow you behind the shadows of his mask, blue eyes melting right into little puddles every time he studies your frame…you can see the nervousness you inspire. The deep, bone-aching loneliness in his heart. The yearning that just barely appears in the first syllable of his every word.
When you say ‘hello’ to him in the hallway and he never says ‘hello’ back, you’re not offended.
Because you know that if he ever opened those tight lips, all he’d be able to mutter is ‘I love you.’
“Old dog’s can’t learn new tricks, price” Soap would grin across the table. Ghost’s low chuckle followed like smoke. “Bet the missus is bored stiff, Captain.”
Price never rose to the clear ragebait in front of the boys, but the words..stuck. You were younger, gorgeous, and God— always eager for him… yet a small, ugly part of him wondered if they were right. He’d never exactly been the adventurous type in bed—solid, thorough, but not… inventive.
So he cornered Gaz one night after drills.
“Need a favor, Sergeant.”
Gaz raised an eyebrow. “Sir?”
Price rubbed the back of his neck, face already red with what he could only pin as embarrassment. “You’re good with the ladies. I want lessons. Real ones.”
Gaz blinked, then a slow, wicked grin spread. “You want a demonstration, Captain?”
Price’s jaw flexed. “Please..”
That’s how you ended up here—naked on the bed, thighs spread over Price’s lap while Gaz knelt between your legs like he’d been invited to dinner.
Price’s big hands were firm on your waist, keeping you pinned back against his chest. “She’s sensitive.” he muttered, almost clinical, but you could feel how hard he was against your lower back. “On with it, sergeant.”
Gaz’s eyes flicked up to yours, dark and hungry. “You ready for this, love?”
You nodded, already wet and aching just from the sheer thrill of the situation.
Gaz didn’t waste time. Two thick fingers slid through your folds, spreading you open. “First thing—don’t rush. Get her nice and wet.” He rubbed slow circles over your clit until your hips jerked, then pushed two fingers inside, curling just right.
Price watched every movement like it was a briefing.
“There’s a spongy spot here…” Gaz pressed upward deliberately causing your whole body to jolt. “Right there. That’s your target.”
He started pumping—steady, focused strokes that dragged over that spot again and again while his thumb kept pressure on your clit.
Price’s voice was rough in your ear. “Breathe, sweetheart. Let him work.”
Your orgasm built fast—embarrassingly so.
“That’s it..” Gaz praised, voice low. “She’s swelling up. See how she’s pulsing?” He added a third finger and the pressure inside became unbearable. “When she starts trying to close her legs, don’t let her. Keep going.”
Price’s hands moved to your thighs, holding them open. You came with a broken cry, but Gaz didn’t stop. He kept fingering you through it, rough and relentless, and suddenly everything felt tighter, hotter, like something was about to—
“There..” Gaz growled. “Let it go, lovely...”
With a whine, a gush of wetness flooded out around his fingers, soaking the sheets and his wrist. Price made a low, filthy sound behind you as he watched you squirt for the first time in your life.
Gaz eased his fingers out slowly, letting you ride the aftershocks, then lifted his soaked hand to show Price. “That’s the spot. Consistent pressure, curved fingers, and you don’t stop when she comes.. you keep going until she gives it to you.”
Price’s breathing was ragged. His cock was nearly throbbing against your back.
Gaz wiped his fingers on your inner thigh, then met Price’s eyes. “Your turn, Captain.”
Price shifted you forward, laying you down properly. He kissed the inside of your knee, voice low with promise.
Thinking about single parent!reader and ghost accidentally bonding with your two kids...
He knows of you vaguely as the apartment two doors down from his that's always toeing the line of some sort of noise complaint. two small kids, four and five respectively. Cute things he sometimes passes in the stairwell since the elevator broke.
"Ewwww!!! What is that!!"
Like now, for example. Arms full of grocery bags, ghost turns the corner to the next flight and finds the wee ones crouched in a corner pointing at something. You sit a few steps up, bags next to you and seemingly taking a breather from the multiple flights.
"Morning, Mr riley." You smile, exhausted. Ghost nods back, then curiously glances over the kid's shoulders when they beging loudly pondering.
"It's an alien!!" Your little girl says, poking at it. "Alien–"
"That's a proper millipede, innit." Ghost grunts above them. He knees down between the two, and lets the long insect crawl onto his hand, holding it up for your kids. "S' the flat face? An' the multiple legs on each segment? Millipede."
You daughter gasps in amazement at the same time your son asks "does it bite?"
"Only kids who don't do their chores." Ghost snorts, then holds it out and gently strokes a single finger along its back "you can pet it."
Which is how your tiny ones end up asking ghost what seems lile a hundred questions about millipedes, then centipedes, and bugs in general.
He answers each one, and after some time sets the bug back down and says "I'll show you more bugs if you help carry groceries in, yeah?"
While your kids grab one bag each, ghost insists on carrying the rest in addition to his own, has the audacity to glare at you when you reach for some.
That night, your kids beg to go to the library to pick out books about bugs, wanting to impress their new friend mr simon.
Of all the people they could like...they chose the weird silent scary guy....at least they're learning stuff, you suppose.
(rookieroommate! x ltghost + tf141, medical procedures (stitches), mentions of torture, angst)
You don't know what you did to deserve any of this but you were about to start praying for forgiveness.
As Easter passed, you grew closer to your pre-scheduled deployment that lasted a month or so. No biggie, nor anything you hadn't done before. However, this time you were going to be paired with a parent team– or well just a team you were supposed to listen to. Again, not a big deal, and definitely not something crazy either.
The first issue arose when it came to training. See, one of the soldiers from said team happened to be the kin of a general, and not one whose name was used lightly. You never planned to act out though, so there wouldn't be a problem in theory. That is, if the son wasn't an absolute prick, and you didn't have the awful luck of being picked to be his mentee.
It started off not that bad, just insults everytime you slipped up, which admittedly wasn't even that often, but it only motivated you to try harder anyway. That’s what the parent team should’ve been aiming to do anyway— encourage you all with your training. However, it soon quickly shifted; his hits became sharper, almost unfair.
The first time you toppled to the ground, blood spilling across the mat everyone turned in shock, not expecting to see such a sight. “Really? You couldn’t even block that? You’re not good enough. Go, now.”
And so you left to the medic tent to get your broken nose stuffed with gauze and wrapped properly, only returning to the bunks later that night. One of your closer teammates came to sit down beside you, a frown set on her face. “Did you piss him off or something? He looked soooo mad after.” She questions, confused by this sudden unusual behaviour– general’s son or not, he still had standards he needed to uphold.
You shrug your shoulders, just wanting an early night's rest so you could catch up on training in the morning– a trip to the medic wasn’t an excuse for a break. “I didn't..do anything different. I didn't even say anything the entire time.”
“It’s not your fault.” You hear a voice pipe up from behind you, a boy you only met during training here. This was a necessary course for soldiers at your level, so your actual team wasn't here with you. He comes over and hands you a water bottle, a frown set on his face as he sits on the bunk opposite. Technically women and men had different tents, but it wasn't time to turn in for bed just yet. “He’s General Shepherd’s son.”
The name rings a bell in your head but you can't exactly figure out from what, and instead you just gratefully take the water bottle. “Thanks. I guess it's just another stuck up nepo baby.. Huh?”
The two of them nod in response, chuckling quietly just in case he happens to be lurking nearby. Hopefully if you just stay in your lane then he’ll leave you alone.
—----------------------
He did not in fact leave you alone even once.
You had tried nearly every single possible approach to fix this situation but it was like the target was permanently nailed to your body in bright neon red. He yelled at you constantly with corrections during training, and then some more when you sparred with others. When the simulated exercises came around, your name was at the top of every list of concern along with a stupid reason circled beside it. Every time you corrected your previous mistakes, new ones appeared, and to your dismay, the other instructors wouldn't bat an eye to your pleas for some guidance. That’s the worst part really; you hadn't actually even complained about the harsh treatment at all, only ever asking for them to show you what you were doing wrong.
You began to realise quickly that this wasn’t as much of a problem on your half, but a result of a vendetta you hadn't even been aware of. After asking nearly every instructor, not one could give you a solid improvement you could actually do in each of the situations. Besides, his complaints started to become obviously stupider by the day.
“Really? He got annoyed because my shoe wasn't tied twice?!” You throw your hands up in the air as your friend practices their stitching skills on you, trying to close up a particularly nasty wound on your shoulder.
“I know it’s rough but will you please stop moving so much!” She yelps as blood starts to spill and you give her a sheepish look, keeping still as best as you can as she cleans the wound again.
“I’m sorry, it’s just –Ow! Are you really sure you know how to stitch?” You hiss as she drags the needle through the sore skin, wincing as you turn to her with a very obvious frown.
“I do! I’m just..” She finishes it as fast as she can, tying it off with a satisfied look, hands planting on her hips. “Ay not that bad! I mean.. It looks closed?”
You roll your eyes, rolling your shoulder to check the pain and surely enough the stitches don't break nor does it seriously ache. “It’ll do. My point is, i’m not even going to even pass the course at this rate! What the hell is the point of all of this then?”
“You just have to keep pushing through it, okay? Everyone knows he’s being extra harsh anyway, they’re just too afraid to speak against him.” It was true; someone had to be a serious idiot to not see the obvious problem he has with your mere existence. With a soft sigh, you nod along to her words– maybe she was right. In some weird way, you were just his stress ball, and he’d probably be squeezing you until this course is over. But he wouldn’t pop you surely, you hadn't actually done anything deserving of it.
—-----------------
“That’s it, everyone stop. None of you are getting any food because of this.”
You’ve only placed one carrot in your mouth, just like your friend who sits beside you, so surely this can't be your fault this time. So naturally you let your fork drop back against the plate, blinking at the others who also don't dare to question why he suddenly spoke.
“We do not raise pigs in the military.” He scoffs, arms crossed over his chest as he walks over to a soldier who dared to keep chewing, snatching his tray out of his hands and placing it on the side.
“And she is a direct example of this. You wait for everyone to sit before you eat, and you do not take a portion for a man.” He sneers as he walks around to you, plucking the plate from before you and dumping it directly in the bin. The whole team stops and turns their heads towards you the second he announces it, leaving you burning with unexplainable shame.
This wasn't even your fault– you didn't make the portion sizes, in fact the workers used to give the women less and even on the self-serve areas you did so because you didn’t want to feel sick during your sneaky training when everyone was asleep. Mind that fact, there has never even been a rule to only eat once everyone's arrived in the month you’ve already been here for.
“Get out! Now!” You stand up straight as he yanks at your shirt and shoves you towards the door, You stumble but keep yourself silent, already leaving before you get personally targeted even more.
—--------------
Everyone’s looking at you strangely, and people don't even let you speak in their direction before they’re walking away. They glare at you for every yelled word, for every extra lap you never provoked, and especially the countless times the hot water has been cut for your group.
You sit by the lake not too far from the camp, trying to reign all the muddled feelings as you scrub at your hair with the salty water. Today your own teammates banned you from entering the showers, and the worst part was that they couldn't even do it with hatred in their eyes.
“Listen– you can't be here, okay? If you’re here, he’ll punish us all and we don't want that.”
“But I'm not even doing anything wrong! I’ll even take the cold water –”
And that’s how you ended up trudging down here, trying not to think too hard about whatever is bubbling beneath the water on the other side of the rocks. Just the other day you had to get a friend to sneak you a bread roll because of the food incident. What the hell would be next?
You didn't want to admit it but you were actually afraid, especially with how you wouldn't even blame your friends if they chose to stop talking to you as well. What if you really had been causing problems this entire time?
And you couldn't stop it if you tried. After all, you've been sleeping outside for the past week with new wounds appearing daily. You always promised that you’d push through everything, every rude instructor and pretentious high ranks too. You swore you wouldn't let it get to you, but you could feel it slipping past, eating at you.
—--------------------
The end of the course couldn't have come any slower, and everyone received their passing results save for the few who genuinely had caused nothing but issues in the other team. Then there was you– you who had him sneer in your face as you went home with no certification. Apparently since he had been the one assigned to grading you, that meant he had all the right to decide whether you passed or not. This time you didn't pick yourself back up– you had a small feeling he preferred when you had your face against the dirt– figuratively and literally.
You return to base and sit at the edge of a truck with silence towards you, even if it is all over. Maybe they believed he could still revoke their certifications too. Either way you left the truck last as the rain poured down, the contents of your bag spilled across a muddy puddle. You can't even blame him for this– it could be absolutely any of them.
Dragging the ruined fabrics inside, you ignore the looks others give your sodden state. Was Simon on deployment? What would he say when he found out you did all of that just to completely fail? This wasn't fair– you had tried so hard, you worked so hard just to be thrown under the bus because one guy didn't like the way you looked.
“Miss, you need to come with me.” You blink at the obvious higher rank standing right infront of your room door, and pause.
“Huh?”
You barely get a chance to question why when another three come out from around the corner and you immediately drop your things. “I didn't—I've— did he report me or something? I never—“
“Do not resist soldier, or we will use force.”
“Sorry— sorry, okay!” You hold your hands up high, realising this is not some kind of joke especially when two have guns pointed directly at you and something tells you they are not afraid to shoot someone as insignificant as you.
Two of the men come and grab your arms, restraining them behind your back as you squirm before eventually going lax— clearly you couldn’t do anything else but let this happen.
—————-
You’re escorted to an interrogation room, all your belongings stripped off you and then your hands locked into handcuffs on the table. Anxiously you bite at your lip— what the hell was actually going on? Eating more than you should did not lead to rooms like these nor measures this serious.
A lady on the older side enters the room clutching files, her badge reading CIA. “I want you to tell me everything that happened over the past weeks.” So you do— from when you arrived at your first meeting with entering the base, not forgetting the details of the General’s son's hatred for you. Of course, you had to phrase it differently though; even you weren't immune to being afraid of him. So his obvious bullying and harassment turned into him not liking you often and punishing you multiple times a day. And you just had to accept that.
She notes down the details, along with her own information, trying to see if it connects or not. A lie or the truth? You knew you were being honest, but she didn't, and that meant you may even be considered the enemy as of right now.
“You’ve been accused of leaking information, files from Captain Price’s office.” The woman suddenly says as she closes the file, stares hardened towards you. “I’ll give you one chance to confess.”
“I would never do that ever, Ma’am.” You shake your head adamantly but she doesn't seem too impressed. What the hell was she talking about– Did someone really report you for a crime this serious? Wouldn't Simon know you’d never do that?
Would he not defend you?
Obviously you want to argue, shake your head adamantly, and insist you’d absolutely never ever do that under any circumstances. But something tells you they won't believe you and just their opinions on you wont be enough.
You’re escorted to a sort of holding cell, consisting of a small room and bathroom and wake up groggily the next morning. Unfortunately, still in your soaked clothes, a cold is probably about to clog your throat.
And you just wait, hoping for them to come and get you, saying they’re sorry for the mistake and it was a misunderstanding. You wait past breakfast, lunch, and dinner, for a day on end. They gave you new attire on the second day thankfully, but you still couldn't get an ounce of sleep in fear. The other convicts in the other rooms were loud sometimes, violent and you’d see the guards run across, detaining them. On the third day you were taken for a medical exam. The regular ones were intrusive as it is, but paired with the non stop troubles this whole month, the prodding and poking at all your injuries didn't help.
It’s only on the fifth day, when you drag yourself to sit upright, does a key jingle in the lock of your door. “Good you’re up, we’re going.” The guard opens the door and you stand, quietly letting him cuff you and bring you back to the interrogation room once more.
Your eyes widen in relief when Price appears in the doorway, lips parting in surprise. Though immediately you shut up on seeing the Captain’s harsh gaze directed onto you as he enters the room. Beside him is the same woman from the CIA before.
If you speak out of turn, would they suspect you more? But if you only speak when spoken to, would they think you were trying to be calculated?
———————————
“I would never look at any of his files— he always keeps his drawers locked too! Ask him— he’ll tell you. He won't even tell me the country his missions are in—”
Even with your constant denying, they kept going through the claims against you. And with every single one, came another forged evidence. Supposed notes with your signature, pictures and videos taken out of context, testimonies from the people with you for the past few weeks.
Well, she was always getting into trouble for one thing or the other.. just to get sent to the infirmary too sometimes. I reckon she didn't even go, could’ve looked around for all we know.
She hardly slept with us for the past week or so, and she’d regularly go to the lake on her own. I saw her on the phone once or twice too.
She always muttered to herself and scribbled down notes when no one was looking— then she’d stash it with her other stuff.
How could you even argue against that? You did all of those things, but without the context you did try to give.. they didn't believe you. You couldn’t find it in yourself to try and fight any longer when they announced they’d be detaining you for a few days until the allegations were investigated properly. All you could do is fall quiet, give up slowly, knowing that it was your word against whatever higher up wanted you out of the picture.
——————
“Ghost, ah’m sure that it’s not them. He’s playin’ games with us— ye know this!” Soap pats a hand on the back of Ghost where they stand behind the one sided glass, watching your interrogation unfold.
He knows in his chest that it isn't you, deep in his heart, just from how you struggle and desperately argue the reasons for every single incriminating evidence that matches up so well. But Simon never trusts his heart, no it’s far too erratic most nights and he’s been in this job long enough to know when to keep it locked behind bars.
This all started a month ago, when he left for a mission during your course. An ally had betrayed them, or rather prioritised their own needs over lives.
“You know, Ghost, you really should look deeper at who you keep close to.” The American had laughed in his face as he called for his men, his arms crossed over his chest. “Just a thought.”
It only spiralled from there— he knew and trusted the team, but who else was there outside of it? The receptionist he passed by in the mornings? The lady in logistics he discussed plans with? The man in admin who handled file transfers?
You?
You.
He had drowned himself in nearly every single file when he returned from that mission, looking for every link to you even if it was something as stupid as when you slipped on a bar of soap and bruised your ass. Yes, that is in your medical records to your dismay. He found nothing in the slightest that could tie you to leaking secrets or the like. Sure you slept in his bed and occasionally used his desk as a hard surface when he didn't mind, but he always kept most important files locked away.
Then a report came from the parent team instructing you, supposedly anonymous but it seemed to be a soldier not worth mentioning anyway. You were acting strange. Sleeping outside of the tents, always sneaking off, causing trouble. Before that you had skittish behaviour when he got injured, sure he had been.. affectionate with you but what if that was a scheme too? Had he really fallen for it?
So he ignored every message you sent whilst at that camp, if anything giving you the driest responses possible to make sure you didn't try and run. It hurt him, especially when you’d try and subtly complain, too afraid to say too much else the instructors caught you bad mouthing them. You sent sad faces all the time, sometimes a voice message that would be deleted after, and he assumed you must’ve been so choked up on tears that you couldn't keep it there longer than a few minutes.
“She’s still denying.” Price reenters the room as you sit alone now, huffing and crossing his arms over his chest. “I showed her the evidence found in her belongings and she still won't confess.”
“That’s because she’s not the one who leaked the information.” Soap scoffs, elbowing Ghost in tandem, waiting for him to agree. “Ghost can confirm that, can’t he? Graves is just being a fuckin’ prick.”
“We can’t rule it out, Johnny.” Ghost says all too solemnly and Soap’s elbow falters, body going lax as he looks up at his lieutenant in shock.
“You can't be serious—”
“He’s right.” Price butts in, a frown set on his face. “Both of you should go, I don't want anyone thinking we’re getting biased here.”
Reluctantly Soap follows Ghost out of the room, but as he’s about to question him about what he just said, he’s already down the corridor. What the hell were they doing? This wasn't right in the slightest– how could they not blatantly see that it wasn't you?!
“How is it going?” Before he had even realised, he had made his way to the rec room and was standing before the kitchenette where Gaz was boiling water. Their mugs were already set on the counter, the steam slowly rising out of the kettle as he pours the coffee grains inside.
“Nowhere– she hasn't confessed because it’s not bloody her.” Soap huffs in response, bracing his palms on the counter as he huffs, watching the water turn the mugs to a murkier colour. At least Gaz understands, nodding along in tandem to his words, though that’s probably why they're both still sergeants. Sitting back and having to listen to the evidence is never fun.
“Let me guess, Price told you that we can't argue the facts against her?” He raises a brow, already knowing that he’d state the same thing he always does. Either way it makes Johnny snort.
“Not this time, but he implied it pretty fucking clearly when he glared at me.” He takes the mug with a small thank you before following him over to the couch, slouching against him all too quickly. “Don’t get me started on Ghost either– just sat there and watched.”
“Anything he turns in might end up being biased. Stupid too, if anyone knows her best it’s him.. I just cant understand why her team mates would lie too—-”
Before Gaz can finish, the door slams open, heavy boots approaching and they both look up as Ghost rips his mask off, and drops a pile of files in their before them.
“Second Lieutenant Shepherd.” He practically growls the words out, seething and they both look down in shock as they flicker through the logs of him being on that same trip as you, big circles around your name and connecting to the descriptions in a few of the witness testimonies. “The bastard has been framing her– and of course he’s the son of the General.”
“He may as well swear his allegiance to Graves than play these stupid games..” Johnny scoffs but pats Ghost's knee as he sits in front of them, still with his blood boiling. “We just need the proof now.”
“He must’ve threatened everyone else on that course. No wonder she was sleeping outside and going to the lake– he must’ve gave her no other option.” Gaz scoffs, equally as annoyed and Ghost nods along to his words.
“We’ll force the information out of them then– one of them has to spill.”
“Wait–” He stops Ghost as he begins to stand again, hand catching his sleeve. “I’ll do it. I think I have an idea that’ll work.”
—---------------------------------------------
Today you don't have the luxury of Price, no you’ve had a much harsher man who seemed like he wanted your blood personally painting his office. The questions were invasive, non stop and forceful, especially when he dug through your phone and looked through the messages you had sent to others.
You weren't some kind of double agent by complaining about the instructor, you were just another useless soldier regretting all the life choices that led you to sniffling over the phone to your friend back at base. He kept putting words in your mouth too, leaving you scrambling to defend yourself while he tried to use it against you, constantly interrupting and riling you up.
“Fine, you think you’re such a smart girl lying like this? Well, the General just approved for.. new methods to be used in our next meeting.” He snarls towards you, almost beginning to laugh to himself as he looks at the files a lowly private passed him. “Do you want to admit to anything now?”
You didn’t of course you didn't, stupid you, still being stubborn and so you were dragged back to that cell once more. This time your pillow is soaked from your tears, face buried in the flat thing as you do your best to contain it. Why hadn’t Simon contacted you once? Was he really out on a solo deployment?
He hadn't responded to any messages while you were at the camp and he hadn't come to see you once in this holding cell, even Soap had tried to get a peek at you sneakily whilst you were escorted away. Why the hell were you crying pathetically in here anyway? Well, probably because you were getting tortured by the organisation you signed up to and for something you hadn't even done.
—
“Of course, his bastard son.” Laswell scoffs as Price looks at the evidence given by his fuming Lieutenant, practically itching to just kill.
“Unfortunately it’s not proof enough— especially his rank. We need witnesses and confessions.” Price’s fingers grip the edge of the paper a little too harshly, trying his best to stay sane in the current situation. There was no holding back though when there was blatant proof you were innocent.
“Kyle’s gathering it.” Soap speaks up, a frown set on his face since he unfortunately had been told he’d just scare the rookies off altogether if he tried
“..Good. Ghost, come with me, we need to buy them some time.”
—---------------------------------
“You think that General’s son gives a shit about you? She’s about to get fuckin’ sliced up in there if you dont tell me the truth right now and you will be next.” His finger points at the chest of one of your prior teammates who is pressed up against the wall and likely about to piss himself.
Soap had sworn he wouldn't come near and yet here he was, staring around the corner and fighting the urge not to record the scene before him– he did not even know Kyle was capable of something so.. aggressive. But then again, they were all on the same team for a clear reason.
Naturally the rookie agreed quickly, telling him everything and confirming what they had heard from two others already. That was more than substantial evidence, and now they just had to get it back as fast as possible.
—————————————-
“That’s enough!” Price’s voice echoes out in the cold dark room you’re in, except you can't see him with the blindfold tight over your eyes.
“They approved—“ The man interrogating you starts to speak only for a rustle of clothing to immediately sound out, along with Price’s stern voice.
“I said enough. Why don't you make sure your witnesses aren't bribed before you start pointing fingers?” He argues, and all of a sudden someone’s slightly cold hands are on your face, unwrapping your blindfold.
You blink as light reaches your eyes for the first time in hours— maybe the first stop to this interrogation was by depriving you to make you go insane. Either way you’re glad to see Kyle as he fusses over you, making sure they haven't laid a hand on you.
He helps you upright, knowing your legs are probably wobbly from being sat still for so long and you hold onto his arm. Was it really all over?
“We’re going.” Price nods for you and Gaz to follow, and you look back one last time, eyes catching onto a glint of metal. It’s coming from a tray set near the chair you were tied to— sharp edges and in various sizes. Like ones you’d see in a butcher's shop.
—-
“I’m sorry Captain..” You sigh, rubbing at your arm to ease the anxiety buzzing through you as Kyle holds you close. He looks pissed, and he doesn't even answer, just shakes his head at you before continuing to walk.
Eventually you reach a meeting room and you’re ushered in, only to come face to face with the woman who you talked to initially.
“Ma’am.” You salute in respect, even if you wince with the movement. Even if it’s only been days in that, it feels like years. What if it wasn't the end..? What if they had decided worse for you?
“Apologies for.. before. Thanks to the 141, there’s more than enough evidence to prove you’re innocent.”
All you can do is just nod firmly to her words, suddenly feeling very small in this room with elite soldiers. You’re not sure even why this is the only time you’ve felt the gap between you too, but it’s stronger than ever. It dissolves quickly however when you make eye contact with Simon across the table, your promise to him before only replacing the feeling with guilt instead.
“We need you to tell us everything you heard about the General’s son. No reservations this time.”
So you do, for the next couple of hours, answering any questions they have. They mainly just want to know how he acted, anything awfully suspicious, or anything you even heard that you wouldn’t typically repeat.
“How did he act in training?” Price asks, and the woman you now know to be Laswell glances towards you too.
“He was harsh on me, but other than that he knew his stuff, I didn't doubt for a second he was a professional. The way he handled situations just made him feel like a nepo baby..”
“Handle situations?”
“He’d blow up on us like it was bootcamp— well, he blew up on me. Not so much anyone else unless they did something that actually would call for it..” You shrug, half expecting them to want to know more about what he did to you. As if remembering, the scars and bruises throbbing along your arms, rubbing against the hardness of this chair.
Thankfully they had gotten you water to chug down, which you’d been sipping non stop to try and keep yourself awake. All the sleep you had gotten since coming back was barely any better than what you had there, probably worse with your body aching and sore.
“Alright that’s it for now. Kyle, Johnny, c’mere and look at…”
Their voices start to fade out in your ears as they move to all stand around the table, Simon forced to put his back to you and concentrate on the task at hand. Besides, as long as you were out of immediate danger, it’d be fine.
You were starting to question if it was really okay for them to speak about important topics when you were sitting right here. It’s not like he dismissed you anyway, and you’re too nervous to even think about asking for anything. You probably shouldn't try to play victim either— as far as they knew, you came back from camp probably tired that's all, and unfortunately had to go in the cold cells for a couple of days whilst this went down. Hardly the crime of the century.
Right.. it’s not important, you should just sit quietly and obediently, do absolutely anything you can to not make Price glare at you again like he had in the interrogation room. Anything—
“Hey— Earth to Rookie?”
You snap out of it, eyes drooped to see Kyle standing above you, a concerned look over his face. Suddenly you see the entire room staring at you, and you swallow quickly. “S-sorry, i was just making sure I didn't forget anything. Did you want something?”
Oh shit, Price is staring at you again, what if he really does get angry again? Any CO getting angry was nothing compared to having this Captain’s glare on you— half because of the sharpness but closer to the fact you know he absolutely does have the intention and execution behind each one.
His looks do kill.
“Do you want to go back to your room?” He asks, his words going slower in your tired brain and you freeze. Was this a trick question?
“W-whatever’s easier for you, sir.” You stammer out, much to your dismay, but at least you seem a bit more awake now.
“Go, you need the rest. Kyle, go get her food and come back when you’re done. We have a lot to talk about.”
A sinking guilt starts to form in your gut as the sergeant listens to his captain immediately— had you really ruined their whole meeting because you were a bit tired? Oh- no, no, this is wrong— you didn't mean that!
“C’mon. The cell food definitely wasnt good.” Kyle gently wraps a hand around your arm and you stand almost immediately, glancing between all of them. Simon definitely wouldnt be back tonight.
—---------------
He screenshots the uber receipt, ready to ask a favour of a fellow soldier to bring the food here when it arrives– he definitely won't let you go and get it. Just as he sends the message you come out of the shower, now dressed in more comfortable clothes, and stinking less of damp now.
“I got someone to grab food for you, here I grabbed a few drinks from the rec room too.” He gestures to the small table where he has his favourites, and the few he’s seen you drink too. But he pauses when he looks up at you, catching a glimpse of marks beneath your sleeves.
“During training..” You mumble, because why should he care further– they’ve gotten much worse than this and come out smiling. If you were a strong soldier, you wouldn't dare to complain even if it was because of unjust treatment.
‘When you’re in a real fight, you won't be whining about what's fair and what's not, your only focus will be to survive.’
That’s what they’ve drilled into your head, even more so in that interrogation room with that man. A real soldier doesn't tell such lies to comfort themselves– they accept the facts for what they are worth.
“Maybe you should swing by the infirmary tomorrow?”
“Yeah, i will.” You probably shouldnt worry him any further else he starts to think you’re stupid and self sacrificing too. Besides, that medical exam you had for the interrogation didn't actually do much but take note of your injuries, and even then they didn't seem to care too much. Almost like they wanted to find things against you.
“Okay.. i’ll see you tomorrow. Try and get a good sleep okay?”
He leaves you for the night, and you dont get spend much more dwelling the past days, or the past months, falling into a deep sleep immediately. Though a small part of you does shuffle up to the side of the bed in hopes Simon would sink down next to you by morning.
No thoughts just people wincing in sympathy when they see pregnant!reader and konig together because he's...well....Giant.
Larger than life, the sheer size of him only more exaggerated by the fact you've always been on the short size. You hear almost everyday how difficult it will be, your supposedly giant baby. Honestly, you're worried too, though you suspect konig is the most stressed.
"I broke the record in my hospital, schatzi. Fifteen pounds. Schatzi, Do you hear me." Which. As one would predict, only served to make you more nervous.
Then the day comes and....they're...small.
Tiny, little babies. Twins, how the hell it was missed it beyond you. Your husband is well over six feet, weighs a solid three hundred and some pounds, and his two new babies can easily be held in one hand each.
As the shock of everything settles in, you both learn that your babies will absolutely scream and wail if konig attempts to hold them normally, only settling properly when curled up in his hands. He's practically crying all the time from how fragile they are compared to him.
Seeing the tiny pairs of socks he sews for them has you crying, too. He loves them so so much.
Your favorite memory is watching the little ones, now a bit older but still so small, snuggling together on konigs back while he naps, enough space they can't easily roll off.
You can't imagine it any other way. It just...feels right.
this is literally making me feral he looks fucking animalistic lordddddd like this is the pope that pounds into you from behind anywhere he feels like it
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