Simon wouldn't say that he was a fangirl, exactly.

Despite what his colleagues would say whenever he spoke about you, an impossibly experienced operator and a well-known individual throughout many military personnel. Probably even exceeding Simon's level of expertise.

He wouldn't know, you had only been on base for a couple of weeks and he was too nervous to talk to you. It was a little ironic; a respected and feared soldier such as Simon, the Ghost, was too pussy to talk to his idol.

So, instead, he left notes. It had started off endearing, thinking you had some little secret admirer that left a message on your locker that said: 'Good luck on your mission.' Right before you were about to leave.

Cute of Simon. Unfortunately, you didn't know that it was him. On your third week at the TF141 base, the messages were continually pasted on your belongings, all reading things that were growing more and more worrying. 'You looked nice today.' 'Don't forget your paperwork. I could do it for you?' 'You can't trust them.'

After a while, Simon was sent to go to a briefing. You were already there. Despite himself, he sat right next to you, rebellious heart thudding in his chest.

The meeting quickly became boring. So, he passed the time by bringing out none other than the same trademark post-its he left around.

"Hmhmh.."

A thoughtful, tuneless hum beside you caught your attention, so you looked and accidentally caught a glance at what the Lieutenant was writing: 'As soon as I get my hands on you, I'll be fucking you brainless.' With a little innocent heart below that he was filling in.

Both eyes snagged on the other's and Simon stared at you silently, a little defiantly, as he slowly lowered his hand to cover the note. He wanted nothing else but your full attention, even if you would be mad at him; one way or another, he will get what he fantasized about for so long.