Anything with a reader who has tourettes?👀 I dont have it but one of my OCs do and I think itd be fun to write about! Think of all the funny moments that could come from reader accidentally saying something dirty in a meeting or smth! :3
Fun fact! I actually have tourettes! So...here's this! :) cw for ableism.
I need this job. I need this job. I need this job.
It's the mantra that repeats in your head every day on base. You're lucky enough to be a civilian contractor, especially with how high your position actually is, and it would be stupid to quit. It would be insanely stupid to quit, but god do you want to.
Especially right now, especially today. Your tics are unruly beasts running around under your skin, pushing and pulling whatever they like. No one sits next to you during your lunch break in the mess. The side of your right hand is mottled with bruises after being slammed against the table so many times. There's an ache in your neck from your head jerking to the side, a move that people love to liken to possession. At least your vocal tics aren't bad. You can still eat.
"Hey, hey watch this." A whisper from the table behind you, then louder "hey spaz!"
You don't turn around, but you hear the repeated click of some soldier's tongue and your tics latch onto it. A sudden burst of your own clicking tongue and bowing head has you dropping your sandwich back onto the plate, lettuce spilling out. click click click the soldiers keep laughing even as your neck aches from the spasms.
You don't finish your meal that day.
The next is...a better day. You've been tucked into your office since morning, successfully avoiding any assholes who try to trigger your tics. You're actually feeling optimistic about lunch...until your lieutenant and technical boss stops you in the hallway.
Ghost nods in the opposite direction of the mess with a blunt "follow me."
He takes you to his office and sets a lunch packed from the mess in front of you. It...honestly pisses you off as much as it makes you happy. You know damn well what he's doing, this was practically a carbon copy of every meal you ever had in high school sitting across from your counselor.
Sure, you're in a safe, controlled environment. But that also means it's you who was removed and not the assholes who were harassing you. You've been practicing advocating for yourself, so you look up from your food to do just that, only to pause when you see ghost.
His mask is off, and he looks absolutely gleeful when he nods to the window in his office. As if pulling back the curtains for some grand show, ghost pulls the blinds up and–
"Holy– fuck– holy shit! Are those the–?"
"Yep. This is their third round." Ghost smiles as he looks out the window at the recruits running suicides on the field. They're the ones who were harassing you yesterday. Out in the field, soap and gaz look back at the window, and when they see you give a bright smile and wave.
"So...do–mhm–do you watch all the recruits puke their guts out from here? Or– fuck off.– or just these ones?" You ask, because honestly, this is an ideal spot.
"Just the ones that deserve it." Ghost chuckles. He doesn't comment on your tics, and doesn't even glance over when your hand slams into his desk. You both eat the rest of your lunch without conversation, but you do cheer when one of the soldiers steps to the side and throws up.
Serves him right.
