Secretary!reader who is incredibly shy. The boys love messing with you, like to see how you squirm. You’ve started getting used to the comments and innuendos, your face hasn’t gotten any cooler, though.
Without fail when they walk past your desk in the morning, they’ll throw some quip your way.
“Well aren’t you a sight for me sore eyes, bird.” Johnny is always the most dramatic, and spends the most time loitering.
“Lookin’ as delicious as ever, sweetheart.” The captain throws a wink your way, he’s a walking HR violation.
“Mornin’, pretty.” Simon’s gruff voice is muffled from under the mask. You’re sure if you told anyone he said things like this they would get you checked.
“You still being good for us?” Kyle raps his knuckles on the wooden top of the desk, barely sparing you a glance as he struts past.
And without fail, you’ll flail and flounder and the blood will rush to your cheeks and they’ll just laugh and walk away like you weren’t contemplating your whole existence.
Of course it sent you into overthinking hell, because why did they keep doing it? Were they bullying you? Did they just think you so obstructive that they needed to bring your poor, long-untouched hopes up? Were they testing your tolerance? Did…did they actually mean the things they said? That one was obviously not the answer, but gosh they made your thoughts run away.
You never knew how they actually felt about you until your desk got moved to a more central location.
Someone retired and you blessedly got to abandon your rickety old desk that was next to the fan unit that never shut up. What that meant though, was you were now in the central path of travel into base instead of snuggled next to the side door only the 141 used.
You figured you’d seen the last of them because of that, after all why would they change their routine simply because your desk got moved?
Your theory was quickly disproven when the following Monday they strutted in through the main door to swing right past your new desk.
“Tryin’ to get rid of us, love?” John leans over the new desk, elbows splaying on the ledge, bare forearms exposed and flexing. You avert your gaze fast.
“No…desk opened up.” Your gaze flits back to the paperwork you’re completing.
“Old one wasn’t good enough for ya?” Inquires Ghost.
You raise your eyebrows and snort to yourself, keeping your eyes on your computer, “pretty sure it had termites.”
“Ah! Wouldn’t ya know, you can make jokes.” Johnny joins the ‘leaning-on-your-desk’ party.
You roll your eyes. This is just like in high school when the popular kids would say you were just so quiet. Or in elementary when the meanies would tug your hair or clothes. They were totally making fun of you. (You wish they meant what they said. That they actually had an interest in you).
“So can I expect you to change your route to bother me here, now?” You finally find their eyes. Deciding enough was enough and you should start to push back a little (even if that meant your hands were shaking aggressively).
“Yes, love.” Confirms Kyle with his stupid smile, “see you tomorrow!” He laughs and pats John’s shoulder like a signal. They all walk away. You convince yourself you don’t miss them.
And you try to ignore everyone else’s nosy gazes.
The actual realization came the next morning, when instead of the familiar faces of the 141, another gruff military man is standing at your desk.
Now, that wouldn’t be too weird except you weren’t that kind of secretary. You didn’t direct people or answer questions, you mostly just handled some paperwork. So you were a little confused on what he might need from you…maybe he was lost?
“Oh! Hello! Can I help you?” Might as well assist him while he’s here.
His gaze is no where near your eyes, rather roaming your body in a way that sends a shudder down your spine. (Nothing like how you feel when your the boys look at you).
He’s licking his lips and still not looking you in the eye when he answers, “I think you very much can, baby.”
Ew.
You try to keep it together but you’re not very good with conflict or uncomfortable situations, “um, sir…if you’re lost you can be directed by that gentleman over there,” you point to the secretary that does direct people.
“No…no I think I’m right where I need to be.” He smiles and finally makes eye contact, which is somehow worse. “How bout you stand up for me, baby, and we can see what we’re workin’ with.”
Oh you’re going to throw up. You’re flustered, and not in the good way, and you have no idea what your next move is when a large hand lands soundly on the desk next to his. Another slaps firmly onto the creep’s shoulder.
“We have a problem here?” You never thought you’d be so grateful to hear John Price’s stupid little accent in your life. For as much as they flirted with you, they never made you feel uncomfortable.
Even talking directly to this man, John’s gaze is solely on yours. Your shoulders drop. The rest of the 141 are behind him, practically surrounding the new guy.
He turns around, sensing the new status quo. “No! No problem here. Just tryin’ get some directions from this pretty thing here.” He keeps digging his hole.
“Well I suggest you find them somewhere else.” Simon’s tone leaves no room for argument. Besides, who in their right mind is disagreeing with him, ever.
All of their faces are dark, which is a stark contrast to the smirks and smiles they normally have for you. You’re beginning to comprehend why everyone finds them so intimidating.
Luckily, the creep knows when he’s lost and he scurries away.
There’s a silence for a moment before John turns back to you, “‘m sorry ‘bout that, love. Won’t happen again. I’ll make sure of it.” He gives you his stupid eye-crinkling grin that you pretend to hate before they all leave you alone again.
The next time you see Corporal Creep he’s sporting a black eye…you’re not going to draw any conclusions about that.
Pt. 2