Luan 🪽 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪

amnesia! au… simon would never want to leave you, never in his life could he imagine a life that didn’t have you in it. he couldn’t bear to think of it. price would leave his wife in a second, but simon can’t imagine wanting to leave you.

and after the attack on you. the other side had a mole in the SAS, and the location of significant others was made obvious. the building next to your workplace was blown up. it’s at that moment he knows he has to leave you. has to divorce you, pretend to cheat on you, have you send and sign the divorce papers because it had to look plausible for the mole.

to keep you safe.

all he wants is to keep you safe. alive, keep the sparkle in your eyes.

he only has three years left of service. and he’ll tell you the truth if you’d take him back.

three years later, he gets a desperate call from a hospital, something about you being in a terrible car crash. barely holding on, and a daughter that’s only listed relative is simon riley. she even has his last name, and not yours.

they say you have irreversible head trauma, almost total amnesia. and with the way his stomach drops when he sees the girl, with her curls and brown eyes, he knows it’s his daughter.

and so he gives a bright smile to the nurse, and well he hadn’t really signed the divorce papers anyway. and what you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you :)

this keeps going on until you catch them at last having a date at a place you'd been talking about for weeks in hopes one of them would want to go with you, not even as a date but just with you, and you are left standing there and feeling like you are worth less than the dirt on their shoes while they look at each other with the softest of eyes- a look they've never even given your used body.

it's why you go to drink your sorrows away. it's why you let a man, big and thick and british with mutton chops and warm, strong hands on your waist and a rumbling voice who calls himself "john", take you back to his house and take such nice, good care of you.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Neurodivergent!Reader (PT.3)

a/n: this is part three of the Neurodivergent request, and i had so much fun writing these. Once again im so grateful that the two ppl who requested this enjoyed the first two parts!!💕💕

Base was always busy.

But for some reason, it was extra busy. Your base and three other others had come together to do one big training camp. All of task force 141 was working with small groups of recruits.

Autistic!Reader x Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

a/n: This was a request from @fandomfanpage and i enjoyed writing this sooo much, i hope you enjoy! My apologies for getting it to you a little later 😖

• Due to having a hard time keeping eye contact, Simon will either move to where your looking or he’ll gently hold your face to keep you looking at him.

i love you, trans femmes,

i love you, trans men,

i love you, trans mascs,

i love you, trans neutral people,

i love you, intersex people,

i love you, lesbians,

i love you, gay men,

i love you, bisexuals,

i love you, pansexuals,

i love you, aromantics,

i love you, asexuals,

i love you neopronoun users,

i love you contradictory label users,

i love you women who go by he/him,

i love you men who go by she/her,

i love you people whose identities 'dont fit',

queer people i love you,

i will always stand with you,

there is nothing in this world that can pull me apart from you,

i promise it will get better, i promise we will win,

i promise we won't always have to be afraid,

i promise, if nothing else, that somebody in this world loves you.

"Si? Hey, baby... It's me, you're okay." Simon grunts in acknowledgment, heart rate still spiking the monitor beside him. "Hey, eyes on me."

"Did they call you?"

"Well, yeah... That's what an emergency contact is." You tease, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. "Your captain, he thinks we're dating."

"Are we?" Simon croaks, turning a little in the bed so he could face you. "We live together. Go on trips together. Don't date anyone else. I always choose you when it comes to hanging out with others." He rambles, eyes wandering down to your hand in his.

"You aren't in love with me. And, while I love you, I'm not in love with you." You rub your thumb across his knuckles. "There's also no one else I'd get out of bed for at three in the morning. We don't have to name it. I just know I love you."

[Image ID: The Destiel confession meme edited so that Dean answers 'JK Rowling posted upskirt photos of a woman on Twitter' to Cas 'I love you'. /End ID]

No one doing this should be allowed to call themselves a feminist.

His accent naturally gets thicker when he drinks, so when he grabbed you by the shoulder one night after the pub, leaning into your ear, voice low and telling you to stay and play poker with the lads, he didn't think anything of it. You thought he wouldn't notice, silly you. Of course he noticed the way your thighs slightly clenched, the way your eyes were suddenly looking at anything but him, and the way your voice slightly cracked when you fed him some bullshit excuse as to why you couldn't stay.

At first he thought he was being too touchy and made you uncomfortable, as there had been times in his life where he had accidentally overstepped physical boundaries with his friends. The mere thought of making his dear friend uncomfortable made him feel horrible. To fuel his worries, you had been ignoring him on base all week, never making small talk or smiling at him like you used to when you saw him in the halls, leaving the dining hall when he came in, and sitting away from during briefings.

Johnny was straight up sick to his stomach at this point.... that was until he heard you ranting to your friend when he walked past your office.

"I literally can't even be in the same room as him! I feel like I'm going crazy!"

"Just tell him! I've heard he's a freak, I'm sure he would be delighted to know how much you fancy his voice."

"Please, I do not fancy his voice like that."

"..."

"I don't! I mean, what am I even supposed to say to him? Hey Johnny, I know you're my good friend and all, but I have a thing for your voice, specifically, your accent! Y'know, like I fantasize of you talking me through it every time I hear you speak, and made myself cum on my fingers last night thinking of you whispering filth in my ear as you fucked me!"

"Exactly. Say that"

She turned around and opened the door, suddenly face to face with a very shocked Johnny who was doing an awful job of trying to cover the growing bulge in his pants. She grinned wildly and scurried off, making sure to keep the door open.

You think that maybe if you stared at your desk long enough, he would go away and forget everything you said. Unfortunately for you, the bulge in Johnny's pants wont stop growing. His loud footsteps fill the room as he makes his way towards your desk like a starving predator seeking his prey. His hands held his weight on the table as he leaned forward until his nose barely brushed against yours.

"Did ye say ye made herself cum on your fingers last night? Thinking of me?" His voice was low and mocking, and you could hear the shit eating grin he was sporting.

One of his big hands reaches up to grab your jaw, forcing you to meet his wild eyes. His fingers can feel your pounding heart, he grips tighter and hears your breath hitch.

"Ye like my voice, lass?"

You feel yourself nod before even fully registering what he said.

He leans into your ear now, fully pinning you to your seat. The smell of his cologne and natural musk fills your nose, and you feel like you might pass out from the amount of blood rushing to your core.

John sits next to his kid and doesn’t touch them until they bury their face in his side on their own. “Not a fan of the fireworks?” he asks and the kid nods. “Aye, me neither.”

A/N: Just putting it out there that this isn't tied to any condition, just their fav lil human just being too overstimulated or under-stimulated when it comes sounds (this is also unserious and just me thinking of scenarios thats happened to close to my own experiences lol) Masterlist here!

Johnny, despite his playful disposition, is actually quite acutely aware of your mannerism and behaviors as you hang out with him and the rest of the guys.

Not in the way of being hyper-aware of it, just noticing how you've picked up on certain habits whenever he finds himself around you.

Just like how you're inseparable in wearing those bluetooth earphones he gave you for Christmas one time.

He notices that you have plugged them inside your ear holes so often that he wonders when you even charge them. He sees how you put them on instinctively whenever you two go out on one ear. He sees you plug it in deep whenever he's vacuuming around the house or when the neighbors are mowing their lawn. He sees you have them on when they get too rowdy while watching a game.

Point being-- you were never seen without it. Why?

One day, he casually brings this up with you while the other guys were out on an errand.

He loves watching you sway your hips to the beat of whatever song you're listening to-- but now he's just curious, interest piqued per se.

Before he let his thoughts spiral, he stood up from his chair by the kitchen nook and approached you with the intent of wrapping his arms around you and swaying to the beat of your rhythm.

"Bonnie," he kisses your temple, "wha'cha listenin' to?"

You giggle at the tickled feeling of his kiss and the way his arms slightly tickled your sides, all the while letting go of the pan for a moment to remove your earphones and let it hang around your neck.

"Just some Dennis Van Aarssen jazz music," you hum, "wanna listen to it too, bubs?"

He shook his head, instead letting his one hand wander to the ear piece you removed and fiddling with it before you plugged it back in once more.

"Just wonderin'..." he mutters, "why ya' got this on all this time? Did ya' love my christmas present that much?"

He tries to smooth it over with a joke when he felt you tense in his arms, but this made those thoughts he tried to push back in his mind resurface-- making him more concerned as to why you reacted like that.

Could it be your way of coping? Or dealing with some sort of stress the four of them can't see? Or a problem you haven't told them about and you're using it as a means to avoid it?

"Bonnie," he stops swaying with you and lets you turn to face him in his arms, and he could see that unsure look on your face, brows furrowed and lips being chewed on-- he knew he had to be concerned now.

"Bonnie, please." he tries a plea to make you open up. "You know you can tell me right?" He starts rubbing his hands up and down your forearms to both comfort you and silently urge you to talk to him.

This makes you breath out a shudder, hand going to your other ear to remove the ear piece that was still playing some music. With a tap, you paused it and finally look up at Johnny, face painted in concern with such gentle, reassuring eyes that you couldn't bear to hide it from him- or the rest of the guys- about why you did so.

You guessed he finally took notice of often you wore it, with or without them-- too many times that you figured that they charted it enough to become a cause of concern for them. It doesn't help the fact that you felt like you got caught red-handed and are now supposed to confess about something you weren't even quite sure of yourself.

So, you try to explain, despite how messy your thoughts and feelings are.

"I just," you fumble, "well, you know me, right? I like music-- just a whole wide variety of it and it just always help, i don't know, help with my moods?" You strung your sentence along, hoping it was coherent enough for Johnnny to understand, and once he nods- giving you the confidence to keep going- you continued.

"It just helps me with working, y'know? Keeps me motivated and focused and all that." You fingers start wringing themselves in sweat and nervousness. "I just-- I don't know specifically why, I guess? It kinda just occupies my mind? Sometimes helps with blocking out with some stuff too..."

Johnny nods in understanding, licking his dry lips before talking as he felt his throat run dry at the thought of your last words.

"So besides liking it," he starts slowly and he sees you nod in confirmation, "it... helps you with work, keeps you focused and finish, aye?"

You nod again.

"But," he dry gulps, "it's helping with blocking out stuff-- what are those stuff bonnie?"

You bit your lip, avoiding eye contact by burying your face in his chest and you can hear him coo, patting your head and wrapping his other arm- still around your waist- tighter.

"We can wait bonnie," he whispers with chin on your head, "but just know that we're always here for ya'."

"I know," your voice muffled in his chest and you feel it rumble in a chuckle.

"Ya' can take your time with it," he reassures you, hand going from your head to your back, rubbing it slowly. "no need ta' tell me now-- was just curious, y'know?"

You smiled onto his chest, and take a moment in his embrace-- to sort out your thoughts and feelings that you've been keeping under wraps from them.

"We're back!"

Your calming moment gets interrupted by the three arriving back just in time for lunch, storming their way to the front to kitchen to greet you two in excitement yet that gets halted as they see you in the position you were both in.

"Darlin'," John immediately puts down his stuff and goes to approach both of you, eyeing Johnny who just shakes his head as he tries to search a response from him.

"What's going on?"

You feel another hand on your back, and you turn to face him to reply-- "just talkin'."

John takes note of how your eyes looked more dimmed than usual, and was about to ask again until Simon came in with a scoff.

"Cut the bull luv," Simon crosses his arms, "we all can tell somethings wrong."

You sigh back into Johnny's chest, a bit irritated at how quickly Simon picks up on things. Johnny glares at the brit who just raised an unimpressed brow at him, as if telling him to be a bit more gentler with his approach. Simon just shrugs, standing on his point as he juts his head to the side, signaling that they should take the conversation somewhere else.

Johnny rolls his head but nods anyways at the silent conversation they had. Kyle, seeing the exchange, picks up on and vocally propose to postpone lunch to chat for a bit.

All of you nod and transfer over to the living room, where you were quite practically made to sit in front of all four of them-- well, make that three while Kyle sits besides you, holding your hand in his as he absentmindedly traces shapes on it.

"So," John starts and directs it to you, "what's goin' on?"

You hum, unable to make eye contact with any of them as you try to clear your mind by fiddling with Kyle's fingers.

"It's with those earphones bonnie wears all the time," Johnny starts for you after some silence on your end, "just asked 'em about it and found out the reason why it plugged in their ears so much."

"Was he talking to you Johnny?" Simon grumbled into his ear, grabbing onto said man's neck to pull him up to his mouth and Johnny feels a shiver go down his spine as he replies a soft, "no."

"Then let her talk."

John agrees and this time, urges you to make eye contact with him by tipping your chin upwards to his gaze, to which was now eye-leveled with you as he sat crouched on the coffee table.

"You can tell us anythin' darlin'," he reassures, "you know we just wanna help you, right?"

You nod in response and finally got the momentum to talk-- to admit it.

"I told Johnny that it helps with blocking out some stuff," you explained softly, "those stuff being my thoughts that are like distracting sometimes or like, when my surroundings gets too loud and it feels like too many stuff is going on inside my head in one moment."

Once you see John and the others nod, you guessed they wanted to know more and let you continue first.

"It..." you gulp, "also makes me feel, I don't know, less perceptive of my surroundings? It feels like I take in too much and having something playing in ears and blocking out all that just helps with limiting that." You cringed at your explanation. "Like sometimes, I don't mind the noise but sometimes it also just-- gets too much, and I just found that by using these earphones are my way of coping about it."

You gripped onto the cord earphones, as you felt stifled by the fact you were relying on something so much to get by your day. To you, its frustrating-- having to rely on something just to "normally" go about your day, and without it, it feels near impossible.

You then felt a hand lay on top of yours, the one that was tightly gripping the cord so much so that your fists had gone white. You lifted up your head to Simon kneeling besides you, unfurling your hand gently before intertwining it with his, and you could feel yourself relax more significantly than before.

The tension of expressing all that tightening your body and with Simon's simple gestures, he released all of that.

"So you get overstimulated by noise?" Kyle asks besides you and you shrug.

"I guess? If there was one way to put it-- then, yeah."

"We're sorry we didn't notice it sooner darlin'," John apologizes for everyone, "you know we could have helped you with that, right?"

You nod hesistantly, "I do... its just I think its silly."

"I don't think its silly," Johnny mutters, "I think its something we should try and address, really."

You stare at him, shocked for a moment.

"Its a problem you're facing luv, then we'll definitely take it seriously." Simon brings your attention back to him by placing his hand on our cheek and gently turning it to his direction. "Got that?"

You nodded more confidently this time.

"Need a verbal confirmation from you, luv."

You let out shaky smile, whispering a small--"yeah, got it."

The boys feel a bit heartbroken at your problem, seeing how much its affected you and how blind they've been to reacting to it. They feel partially responsible, knowing that they were sometimes the cause of that "noise" you want to block out, knowing they weren't the quite the silent type whenever they stay at home with you. From loudly talking during meals to cheering and jeering at their sports teams to just obnoxiously doing chores around-- they felt awful. Just picturing you looking at those earphones for comfort, and feeling to burdened to tell them about it so you try dealing it with your own.

And you did. Only because it was weird- to you- to ask someone to lower their voices when it came to talking in their own home. If they couldn't be comfortable in their own home, their safe space, then where else would they?

It was quite a conundrum you were stuck so long on that relying on those earphone was the best way to deal with it-- for the moment. Until you figured out a way to tell them.

Which eventually arrived you to this moment-- explaining all of this to them like an embarrassing story of pissing your own pants like a little kid.

"Darlin'," John starts with a heavy breath, "you know its not a hard ask right? We're your partners-- we're supposed to care for each other."

"I do too," you mumble, "that's why it felt weird to ask of you guys to adjust for me when you're already doing so much."

Their eyes soften at this confession.

"And we'll do more," Kyle states, "if its for you, I don't mind doing the little things you ask of us, sweetheart."

The others agree and you pout.

"I can't do that."

"Then we'll do it for you whether you say so or not." Simon decides for you, wiping the unshed tears gathering at the corner of your eyes. "I can tell, don't worry luv."

You roll your eyes at the exuding confidence of Simon's ability to read people and you hear him chuckle at your reaction, feeling him pinch your cheeks too in retaliation.

"Brat," he teases, "I'll let you off this time."

You then feel his touch let go from yours and somehow, find yourself in the arms of John who was gazing at you with such empathetic eyes that you feel bad for feeling like this.

But that thought was immediately removed from your head with a poke at the side from Kyle, "none of that sweets," he says with a cheeky grin.

John supports by adding onto it, "don't overthink 'bout it darlin'." He presses his forehead against your pounding one, but soon tides over as you find yourself matching your breath and pace with his.

"We promised to take care of you and we'll do that, okay?" He looks for your confirmation and you mutter a small, "yeah" in response.

"Just gotta tell us sweets," Kyle approaches from behind and wraps you in a hug as well. "don't feel like you gotta rely on somethin' else to make it through yourself."

"Let's take baby steps, a'ight?" Johnny huffs with a smile on his face, jumping in the hug as well. "we can work through it together, right LT?"

With his insinuation, Simon rolls his eyes and joins the hug as well with you in the middle.

"Together," Simon promises snarkily, tightly wrapping his arms around everybody only for you all to loudly complain and dissipate from the short-lived group hug.

Simon lifted his hands up in mock surrender while you pointed a glare at him.

"Just sayin'," he puts it other there, "you can just tell us to shut up and we wouldn't mind."

The guys stifle a laugh at how the picture of you doing that to them looked like in their heads-- and they just can't imagine you, of all people, doing that.

If you could, you would have already slapped the smirk of this man's face but you just poked your tongue at him instead.

"I could never do something that mean," you sneer, "unlike you."

This makes them crack-up again, and this time-- it makes you smile too, and Kyle catches it. Quickly pointing it for the others to do the same with only John standing back and observing all of his partners playfully get along once more.

He's happy that they finally got you to tell them of that lingering problem that on the back on everyone's mind but, tackling it was a different story. A bit of a tricky situation that comes with much planning and adjustments on all sides-- which all of you were willing to work on.

But as long as it made sure that you were happy, loved, and care for-- they were willing to spend game nights lowly cussing at each other and sending silent death glares.

Maybe it might be even more fun for them that way.

Series:

♡ Weaponised (longfic, super soldier!reader, angst no comfort, hurt) ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

♡ ‘Sweet As Sugar’ Civilian,Baker!Reader x Lt Simon (series, fluff,romance, completed) ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

♡A Rookie and Her Lieutenant (multiple parts, series of oneshots, roommate!au)

TASK FORCE 141

♡ Nocturnal Activities (owl!hybrid reader)

♡ Failure (puppyhybrid!reader, hurt/comfort, fluff, some tf141)

♡ Playing with his mask (cathybrid!reader, crack,fluff,some tf141)

♡ Movie night(request, comfort for a previously suicidal reader)

♡ Overstimulated (fluff)

♡ Social Anxiety (fluff/comfort)

♡ Weapons Designer (req,platonic,fluff)

♡ Someone to rely on weapons Designer x Gaz:

♡ Neglected (weapons designer)

♡ forgetting if you’re a cat or human (shifter!reader)

♡ Accidentally crushing him (shifter!reader x Soap)

♡Caught in their beds (seperate drabbles for each, slightly suggestive)

♡ Paintings under your bed (artist!reader)

♡ Tightness in your chest (ghost) pt2 (gaz version)

♡ Afraid to make yourself known (Price) ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

♡ His first sergeant(Price, platonic or romantic)

♡ Sick days (continuation of above, Kyle Gaz x Reader)

♡ Neglected Beta (all alpha141, angst, happy ending, toxic 141(simon is the nice one here)

♡ Human!Reader + shifter141: Simon’s cat-like sleeping habits

♡ Human!Reader + shifter141: Gaz’s early morning bird calls

♡ Price + Gaz help insomniac!reader

SIMON GHOST RILEY:

✭ A Light that Never goes Out (angst,hurt/comfort, anxiety, attachment disorder) ✭ Ticking Time Bomb (angst,hurt/comfort, dissociation) ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ✭Wasps, Hornets and cuddling— wait what(paranoia, hurt/comfort, fluff) ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

✭In the Water (request, thalassophobia—fear of the ocean), comfort, fluff)

✭Falling (sergeant!reader/protective!Ghost, fluff, apologies)

✭A Place To Rest (sergeant!reader, giving ghost comfort,a lot of fluff) pt2

✭Jazz singer!reader x ghost (anon req, humour, fluff, silly)

✭Dreams of him (fluff) Simons reaction

✭He dreams of you (fluffy, sweet and silly) ˚ʚ♡

✭Massage (fluff, romance, established relationship)

✭ Healing eachother (sergeant reader!, fluff, comfort)

✭ He thinks you’re an extrovert (hurt/comfort,misunderstandings) ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

✭Confession with a shy!reader

✭ Accidentally harming you(comfort, rivals)

✭ Cruise ship crush (angst)

✭Blind!sergeant!reader (hurt/comfort, sacrifice, happy ending, romance or platonic)

Drabbles(under 2k words):

✧ Platonic love (fluff) ✧ Drowsy (drabble, fluff, comfort)

✧ Ghost not wanting kids (drabble, fluff)

✧ Scratches (hybrid reader, drabble, crack and fluff)

✧ Teasing Ghost + service dog!riley ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ✧ Homebody roommate(crack)

✧ Jealousy (siren!reader) ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

✧ Horror Movies (fluff,humour)

✧ His flaws in a relationship(angst,analysis)

✧ His mask is in the wash (fluff, humour)

✧ Compromises (fluff, romance, married)

✧ Double attack (dog!riley, fluff, kisses)

✧ Coward (protective!ghost, romance, request)

✧ Birthday (confused!ghost, romance)

✧Kidnapped romance ver platonic ver

✧ Shoelaces (fluff)

✧ Unrequited (angst no comfort, mean!ghost)

✧ Tricking Ghost into thinking he’s an alpha/ part of the omegaverse

✧ Ghost underestimates cat!shifter reader

✧ Injuries are a weakness

✧Helping you out (secretary!reader, soft!ghost + acts of service ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

✧ Comfort after a car accident

✧ Denying your efforts (angst no comfort)

✧ Fussing over him

✧ Programmer!reader fixing their code (drabble)

✧Nerdy!reader going shopping w Simon (married au, fluff, comics/games stuff)

✧Bringing him bodies like mice (feline!hybrid reader)

Human!reader and shifter!141, simon’s

Coming soon:

- alex/farah, post mw1

You'll Never Be The Same Pt. 1

(Platonic Task Force 141 x Reader x Ghost)

Wolf: I've had this idea almost two years ago of a story about Ghost. I've finally decided to put pen to paper and see what happens. It'll be a long story hopefully and a slow burn.

Disclaimer: Mentions of Sex Trafficking, S.A., Physical Abuse, (Not by the Task Force Members) Eventual Smut, Fluff, and age gap.

You were kidnapped while studying abroad and sold into sex trafficking. The task force 141 members find you and take an interest in you after they realize how much you know.

Drip

Drip

Drip

1......2.........3........4........5

You count the drops of water falling from the dark ceiling. You can't see it, the room far too dark. But you can hear it. Hear that insufferable drip. Drip. Drip. You can't take it anymore. But it won't stop. Drip. Drip. Drip.

1........2........3..........4.........5

And so on.

You keep counting the sounds of the dripping. You can only imagine muddy murky water that's dripping down. Brown outlined drops, perhaps with sediment falling from the ceiling undoubtedly creating a puddle of equally disgusting, bacteria infested water.

Fucking disgusting.

26.......27......28......29.......30

Though you hated to admit, the drips were the only thing keeping you sane. The room you were in, inky and dark, not an outline to be seen. You lay on the floor, your clothes worn awaiting their next wash. You could feel the cold of the cement below you.

The cold that seeped in, through your clothes, all the way to your bones, now made your side and arms that lay in contact with it, numb. You grew accustomed to the feeling. You listened for the drips. Though it irritated you, it was the only thing that you heard through the deafening silence.

The only thing that made you feel alive. You rub your thighs together. The burn between them furthering your thoughts to think about the situation you're in.

How long has it been? You weren't sure. When you could see light, you kept track of the days by scratching your skin. The indent from your fingernail indicating another day. Before you went pitch black, you had 15 marks on your arm. Now you only mark when you think it's been a day. Your count is off you're sure. But it's something.

How did you get here??? What the fuck happened? How did you get trapped?

You closed your eyes. It was pointless because you were already in the dark, but the dark behind your eyelids was comforting.  You think back.

Okay

Okay

You were studying abroad for college. You had been so excited when you stepped off your place. Your college was perfect for your major. You met great people and it was a comforting experience so far. You were there two weeks when you went for that drive. The car broke down in the woods. You didn't think much of it.

Then what happened???

Oh. That guy. He pulled over to help you. And instead he took you. He easily manhandled you into his trunk. The levers to pull in case of this situation were removed. Instead twisted metal with a gaping hole left in its place. You struggled for God only knows how long to get out of that truck. You were thrown around, hitting your head on the truck and slamming into the back as the tires went over bumps and rocks in the road at a reckless pace.

Before you had known it, you were still, then the trunk opened, light blinding you as you struggled to shield your eyes. Arms grabbed you roughly and yanked you from the trunk. Your body complied since you had no other choice. You were put before a man. He places his hand under your chin and tilts your head side to side.

"She'll do." He said, accent thick.

You shudder in fear. And that's how you were sold into sex trafficking. You were transported every few days to a new facility where other people were held prisoner. Some bought, some sold. You were bought and given to a Russian guy. You could tell he was bad news, beyond the buying a sex slave part. You hung onto everything he said you could hear. You used your nails to scratch things into your skin. Initials of his name, any small minute thing that would trigger a memory of what you heard.

You felt this would be important. He didn't know how much you could hear beyond his bedroom door. He used you for his filthy pleasures over and over, occasionally a guard sneaking in and doing the same to relieve tension. It was maddening. After some time, you were brought here. To this dark confined room. Listening to water drip and pool. The men were moving. He didn’t have time for you now. Later, when he came back he promised. What was his name? You couldn't remember. You struggled to think. You strained trying to think. Body tensing and head sinking into the cement.

Gunshots. You panic and jerk up, your body weak from malnutrition and neglect. You push yourself back as far away from the place you knew was the door. You backed up until the cold cement brick pressed your back. The cold worked its way through your clothes and into your skin. You were wide awake now.

You heard more gunshots and covered your ears. You leaned forward and cringed. You planted your feet down and squeezed your eyes shut. Your heart hammered in your chest and you willed it all to stop. Praying no one, whoever, would find you.

The door opens and your eyes shoot open, irises locking on the bright flashlight in front of you. The shadows behind the light only showed there were multiple people. You couldn't make them out but you knew they weren't friendly. Not that the Russians were friendly, but they hadn't killed you.

You see an arm come up and someone distinctly yell

"Hold your fire!" One of the men comes up to you carefully. You wince and slide further away on the wall.

"Hey. Hey easy there." He says.

Your flight response kicks in and you jump forward. You use what little strength you have and run past him and the other man. Both men try to grab you but you're too slippery. You run past them, the light in the hallway a drastic shift from the jet black interior of your confinement. The light burns your eyes, you having to squint for it to just barely be bearable. You run past another man and turn another corner. There are yells at your back and you run into another man. You look up and see a skull mask. You yelp and try to turn on your heel.

The man grabs you.

"On your fucking knees!" He yells. He knocks you to your knees and you struggle against him. He doesn't have a good grip on you and you almost slip away. He throws you forward, the edges of your shoulders making contact with the wood floor beneath you. You yelp in pain and he holds you there yelling at you to be still. You keep struggling, your arm coming free and you strike him.

He growls and pops your shoulder out of its socket. You scream and freeze. The other men come around the corner.

"Fuckin 'ell Ghost she's a prisoner." The one who found you says.

"You don't know that." The man with the skull mask says growling, his hold on your wrists tightening.

Another man crouches in front of you. The leather of his boot squeaking with age as it bends. He looks down at you. You look wild eyed at him and at the other men. The bearded man snaps his fingers and you look at him.

"Name." He says simply. You blink a few times and the man above you pushes into you and makes you wince.

"Answer tha fuckin question." He says. You blink and then finally understand.

You tentatively say it. The man growls and jerks you around again and you cry out.

"Better not be fuckin lyin."

The man in front of you opens his jacket, showing you his handgun. The rifle slung behind his back. You freeze in fear.

"Here's what gonna 'appen." He states.

"Yer gonna tell us who you are. We need ta make sure yer not a apart of all this." He says simply. He gestures to his weapons.

"Don't want us to take drastic measures do ya now?" He says coldly and your heart stops.

"No! No!" You break off into a very detailed tangent about your life, your government name, university, job, any and all of it to clear your name. "please....please I was kidnapped...whoever you think I am....I'm not!" You plead your case. Your captor tightens again.

"Are you fuckin lyin?" He asks, twisting your arm. You scream out.

"I-I'm not lying!!!! Please!!....Argggh!! I swear to God!! Look me up! I'll give you whatever!!" You cry out and someone clicks on a device. The bearded man looks at him waiting and after a few moments he stops.

"She's telling the truth. And look." He tells him and shows him the tablet. The man looks at it and then at you.

"Fuckin 'ell." He says. The man above you leans forward. You weren't sure if he was trying to hurt you leaning forward or not, but you still winced. The bearded man shows him and he breathes deeply through his nose.

He steps back letting you go. You scramble up, ignoring the searing pain when you put weight on your dislocated shoulder. You scoot away from him but not too much closer to the other men. The bearded one stands up with you and eyes you up and down. You grip your injured arm tightly. It takes a moment before your realize he's holding out the device to you and you see it. The pixelated images clear and your eyes widen.

On the screen you see your obituary.

Your whole world thought you were dead. They listed you as missing for a while but you were presumed dead. You flinch at the words and back up.

"Do you know how long you were missing?" The bearded man asks. You blink for a second and try to think. You grip your scalp trying to remember. Then you touch your left arm with your nail marks. You count the ones you remember and then the ones you thought were full days.

"The last thing I remember was disappearing on the 15th of May.........I think it's been........23 days since then?" You say. The men look at your arm, a little impressed you thought to track your imprisonment like that. The bearded man has something flash across his eyes. Sadness? Pity? You weren't sure.

"It's the 19th." He says.

"Of June?"

"July." He says. Your mouth forms and "o" without making a sound and you nod looking down. You feel a familiar sting behind your eyes, tears breach and carefully slide down your cheek. The men feel sympathetic and pity for you.

You look at the man who held you down. You see the mark on his face from where you hit him.

"Sorry." You mutter. He just blinks at you and shifts his gun. Someone steps forward.

"Can I see your arm?" He asks calmly. You flinch and step back.

"No." You say simply. You ignore the screaming pain in your arm. The man looks at you.

"It's dislocated. I'm a medic, I just want to help you." He says.

You looked at him nervously and the man who dislocated it in the first place grumbled.

"Will ya just fuckin let 'im look at it?" He says. You shoot him a glare and hold your arm out to the medic, not looking away from the ghost mask. The medic stands up to you and gently grasps it. He pushes hard and pops it back into place. You wince but refuse to let out a sound.

You hug your body and one of them comes forward. He shrugs off a coat he was wearing and carefully steps toward you. His heavy footfall caused a loud squeak to erupt from the floorboards. You flinch and shy away.

"S'okay lass. I won't 'urt ya." He says carefully. His thick Scottish accent coming out lowly. You look at him fearfully and he holds the jacket out to you. You look down at the worn, thin clothes on your body. You look back up at the Scotsman.

"C'mon lassie. Let's cover you up. It may be summer but it's a wee bit chilly outside."

You hesitantly step forward and take the jacket. You cover your body, the length of it reaching mid thigh. You zip it up and feel more secure with your body hidden.

"There we go." He says with a gentle smile. The bearded man turns away answering a call and you zone out.

Am I free? You think.

Your eyes unfocus as you look at nothing in particular. You look blankly at the wall while the men converse amongst themselves. Finally the bearded man snaps you out of your trance. 

“Miss." He says simply and you snap your neck up to look at him. He beckons you to follow the team.

“We move out now, we’ll take you back to the safehouse and figure out where to go from there.” He says gently. You nod.

“Can I go home then?” You ask eyes pleading for him to give you the answer you want. He looks down at you and nods. “We’ll try to get you home safe.” You awkwardly follow behind the men in between them. You feel nervous and hug the jacket to your body tighter to get some assemblance of comfort. You look at the men around you, and nervously look behind you. You catch the cold eyes of the man in the mask behind you and it sends a shiver up your spine. You head outside and even under the jacket catch a chill in the night air. You subconsciously pause and tilt your head up to the sky. 

You close your eyes and breathe in, taking in the comforting smell of the night air. It smells fresh, albeit polluted, but not near as stuffy or congested as the room you were held captive in. 

Someone stops beside you. He also has a mask with a faded skull-like print on it. “You okay?” He asks. This one is American, it’s comforting. You have your eyes closed and deeply inhale the air. 

“It’s been so long since the last time I’ve seen the stars.” You say to him. He doesn’t say anything but you can feel the shift in the atmosphere. You feel the pity radiating off of him but he remains silent. 

“Let’s keep moving.” He says finally and you open your eyes and walk forward. You get to a large armored truck, capable of holding you and all the others. The truck is massive and you look at it contemplating how to get inside it. Weeks of fatigue and malnutrition have not left you in the most athletic state. You plant your hands down, already feeling the struggle and someone reaches his arm out to you. He has a very gentle smile. You gratefully take his hand and he hoists you up. You stumble and he stabilizes you. You look at him sheepishly and he steps aside. 

“Miss?” The bearded man says. You look at him and he gestures to the front of the truck. You go to sit down and wait for the men to settle in behind you. The man with the ghost mask is the last one in, and smacks the back of the truck to signal the driver to move. With a piercing squeak due to the weight, the wheels start to turn and you slide and shift in your seat on the bench. You shrink down into the jacket and close your eyes. 

It’s been weeks since you’ve been able to be this much at peace, and your body has been on autopilot so much that you haven’t had time to process all the things you were going through. Finally your mind can be at ease. You doze on and off until a familiar ache between your legs makes itself known. You squeeze your eyes and try to calm down. 

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.

You tell yourself over and over to calm yourself down, but to your dismay the panic already sets in. You start rubbing your arms for comfort and your breathing picks up. Someone to your right notices. He looks over at the Medic. 

“Roach..” He starts. The medic looks up and with a head tilt from the person next to you, his eyes land on you and take in your panicked movements. Carefully he stands up and approaches, not wanting to startle you anymore given  your eyes are shut. Your rubbing gets more frantic and your breathing more rapid. He calls your name and you jump in fear. Your eyes snap open and you look at him with wild eyes.

He says your name carefully, and you look at him heaving. You start to fidget and panic, your heart prickling with anxiety and your body overheating. He kneels down and tries to calm you down. You start getting more vocal and whimpering, eyes flinching.

He says your name again.

“Calm down. Shhhh it’s okay, you’re safe now. Focus on me.” He tried to soothe. You struggle to look at him, your vision being blurry. He grips your shoulders trying to ground you. 

“Hey, hey...breathe with me. In four, out four.” You let out a panicked noise, the others wincing understanding to an extent of what you’re feeling. You grip your hair and start crying and seizing over and over. Roach calls out. 

“Gaz, get my bag.” He says to the man that helped you into the truck. He grabs Roach’s bag and tosses it to him while he’s still trying to soothe you. He slowly brings you back a bit but reaches into his bag and pulls out a walkman. He holds it up to you.

“Easy does it...”

“H-Hurts! Hurts!! So..so much.I…I..I” You babble aimlessly, hurt and scared. He tries to calm you down, attempting to keep you from pulling on your hair too much. You start jerking and crying harder.

“Shit…” He says under his breath.

“Can you move your hands? Just for a second?” He asks and you carefully move your hands down a bit. He slides the headphones over your head, your body still shaking. He plays the music and a familiar tune plays. Suddenly the world quiets down for you and your chest stops tightening. You calm down. The music floods your ears and takes you away from the present. Roach keeps standing, hands on your shoulders and the man next to you carefully rubs your back.

You lean against the seat and close your eyes. You giggle to yourself.

"A walkman?" You say. Roach lets out a defensive laugh.