#found in storage locker

[theonottsbxtch]

MISSION PISS OFF YOUR BROTHER | LN4

an: this was also a 2k celly thing i forgot to write/post i apolgise. enjoy a crack fic lol

wc: 585

request: can I please get a crack fic of lando and piastri!reader getting caught (I’m tryna thing of something outlandish here) stealing Oscar’s helmets or even something as petty as his water bottle just for fun and to get a reaction out of him 😭😭 and then obviously returning them lol

It started, as most stupid ideas did, in the McLaren motorhome kitchen at approximately half past bored.

Lando was leaning against the counter, sipping a sweet iced coffee he didn’t even like, and she was sitting on the worktop like she owned the place, legs swinging, staring into the fridge with the kind of intensity usually reserved for pit strategies.

"Do you reckon he’d notice?” she asked, head tilting. “If his bottle's missing?"

Lando raised an eyebrow. "Oscar?"

She gave a solemn nod. “He’s got that one he always uses. The white one. Bit scratched at the bottom. If I took it, he’d spiral.”

There was a pause, long enough to pretend they were considering not doing it, and then Lando grinned. “What if we take it... and leave clues. Like a ransom.”

She gasped, eyes lighting up. “With photos. Mysterious locations. Emotional manipulation.”

“You’re sick,” he said, admiringly. “Let’s do it.”

The first disappearance went unnoticed.

They’d expected a full investigation, maybe even a team-wide email. Instead, Oscar simply grabbed a different bottle and carried on like an emotionally stable person. Rude.

So they escalated.

Next to go: the helmet. Not his main one, obviously, they weren’t lunatics. But one of the perfectly-polished, display-only helmets that sat proudly in his driver’s room like a shrine to aerodynamic symmetry.

She stuffed it into a McLaren tote bag. Lando filmed it. He provided the soundtrack, mission: impossible theme hummed very badly.

They left a note behind. If you ever want to see your lid again, bring three oat biscuits and an honest compliment to Bay 3. No funny business.

By the time Oscar walked in and discovered it missing, Lando and she were hiding behind a storage crate nearby, watching on the CCTV screen above their heads like two deeply unserious goblins.

He stared at the note.

He blinked.

Then, slowly, he turned and said, “Are you two, are you actually mental?”

Lando almost gave them away by snorting.

Oscar didn’t follow the instructions, of course. He didn’t negotiate with helmet terrorists. So, naturally, they upped the ante again.

Helmet selfies began to appear around the garage. One of her wearing it while dramatically holding a banana like a gun. One of Lando pretending to cry while holding a sign: "He just wanted to race :("

They even Photoshopped one of the helmet in a bubble bath. It was disturbing. Artistic, but disturbing.

Oscar's eye twitched when he saw it.

"Right. I'm done." He stood up mid-lunch and declared, “I want my bloody helmet back. I don’t care if I have to call Zak.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Lando said, emerging from behind a curtain with the most guilty face imaginable.

Oscar pointed at him like he was summoning thunder. “Try me.”

Eventually, they returned everything.

The helmet was pristine. The water bottle had only a little glitter in it. Barely noticeable.

“Why do I let you in my life?” Oscar muttered as he inspected his things like they might be booby-trapped.

She beamed at him. “Because I’m family, and Lando’s too fast to catch.”

“That’s not even.” He stopped, looked at the bottle again. “Is this… lavender-scented?”

She shrugged. “Therapeutic.”

Oscar sighed the long, pained sigh of someone who realised this was his reality now.

Lando, who had somehow managed to stick googly eyes on the side of Oscar’s helmet mid-conversation, high-fived her behind his back.

It was, they decided, a mission well executed.

As Oscar has still not found the banana photo taped inside his locker.

the end.

taglist: @lilorose25 @curseofhecate @number-0-iz @dozyisdead @dragonfly047 @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @sluttyharry30 @n0vazsq @carlossainzapologist @iamred-iamyellow @iimplicitt @geauxharry @hzstry @oikarma @chilling-seavey@the-holy-trinity-l @idc4987 @rayaskoalaland @elieanana@bookishnerd1132@mercurymaxine@obxstiles @dongyeonssimp @gr4cier4cie

[tetragonia]

A Pre-Game Special

Timeskip!Miya Atsumu x Fem!Reader

just you taking him full in your mouth before his game against Schweiden Adlers, trying to get him relaxed.

cw: nsfw, male receiving, oral, lmk if I missed any!

As MSBY made their way toward the locker room, Atsumu barely had a second to react before he felt a familiar tug on his wrist. He turned, only to find you there, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Oi, what—”

“C’mere,” you whispered, fingers lacing with his before he could protest. With a quick glance to make sure no one was paying attention, you pulled him down the hall, your pace determined.

Atsumu followed, a little confused but not about to complain, “Sweetheart, I got, like, ten minutes before warm-ups—”

“And I just need five,” you shot back, smirking as you led him past the usual lockers, past the training rooms, straight to a small, inconspicuous door near the back of the gym. "Come on."

Atsumu blinked, “Wait a minute—”

You pushed the door open without hesitation, the dimly lit storage room greeting you both with the familiar scent of old sports equipment and fresh laundry detergent. It was quiet, out of the way, and, most importantly, you knew no one would bother looking here. After all, you hung around the gym often enough to know which rooms were rarely used.

Atsumu barely had time to process before you dragged him inside, shutting the door behind you with a decisive click. He turned to you, mouth opening—probably to ask what the hell was going on—but you were already on him, pushing him toward the nearest chair with enough force that he fell into it with a soft grunt.

His brows lifted in amused surprise, “Damn, didn’t know ya were this strong.”

You just smirked, already reaching for the hair tie on your wrist, “Shut up, Miya.”

“What’s this about, huh?” he asked, lips quirking upward despite the uncertainty in his voice.

You didn’t answer, at least not with words. Instead, you tied your hair back into a ponytail, your fingers moving deliberately slow, knowing he was watching—knowing exactly what that simple motion would do to him.

Atsumu's smirk widened as realization dawned on him. He leaned back, spreading his legs slightly, his confidence returning in full force.

“Oh? Now this is interestin’.”

Your hands ghosted along his hips, teasing, testing, as you toyed with the waistband of his sweatshirt. His breath hitched, but he covered it up with a shaky chuckle.

“Yer trouble, y’know that?”

“You love it.”

You lowered his sweatpants slowly, taking a good lock on his big, hard cock.

"Didn't know you're hard already, Miya," you smirked, looking up at him.

"Yeah, it's difficult not to whenever yer around, baby," he said, before pulling your jaw and kissed you.

But you knew he didn't have much time before preparing for the game, and you could kiss him anywhere. But this? You can't do this in public.

His fingers found their way into your hair, threading through the strands as he let his head tip back slightly, the sharp inhale of breath betraying his otherwise cocky demeanor. You take his length slowly, it throbbed slightly under your touch.

You stroked a few times, trying to get warmer than this. And then Atsumu's grip on your shoulder tightened as your lips brushed against him, his control slipping with every passing second.

“Shit—” his voice cracked, followed by a breathless laugh. “You really don’t play fair, huh?”

You didn’t respond, but your tongue swirled around him. His jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling in uneven waves as he struggled to keep himself together.

Atsumu’s fingers tangled in your hair, his grip tightening just enough to make you shiver. His breath came in ragged, uneven gasps, his golden eyes dark with something dangerously close to reverence as he looked down at you.

“Fuck—” he groaned, his head falling back for a moment before he forced himself to watch you again. “You—shit, ya look so damn good like this.”

You hummed again, the vibrations making him suck in a sharp breath. You sucked it, saliva helping you to move smoothly. His tip was deep in your mouth, and your free hand roamed around his inner thigh.

You always loved his thigh, a perfect place to either sleep, sit, or even ride. Your fingers barely skimmed the surface of his skin, a featherlight touch trailing along the base of his thigh. The warmth of him radiated against your palm, muscles taut even in his seated position.

His thighs—big, muscly, and undeniably strong—had always been a favorite of yours. Built from years of training, of relentless drills and never skipping leg day, they were firm beneath your fingertips, shifting subtly under your touch as he tensed.

The contrast was intoxicating—how easily he could dominate a game with those powerful legs, yet here, under your hands, he twitched at the slightest graze of your nails against the sensitive skin. You traced the ridges of muscle, following the curve where strength met softness, reveling in the way his breath hitched.

Your touch danced dangerously close to where he wanted it most, teasing, testing, savoring the way he responded before you even fully claimed him. His other hand found your neck, grazing his rough fingertips from touching the ball every day.

“Damn, sweetheart,” he muttered, a cocky grin tugging at his lips even as his voice wavered slightly. “Didn’t know ya liked my legs this much.”

To respond to that, you took him faster. Your tongue and lips worked their way, like they were in the right place. Savoring Atsumu's cock.

Atsumu groaned, golden eyes hazy as he glanced down at you, his lips parted.

“You like it, don't ya? Teasin’ me like this, actin’ all sweet while touchin’ me like that—” his words dissolved into a ragged breath as you applied just the right amount of pressure. His grip in your hair faltered, his knuckles turning white.

“My pretty thing. You wearin’ my number, makin’ me feel this good? You really love me, huh?” he murmured, voice thick with satisfaction as he finally able to find his voice. “You really tryna kill me before the game, you know.”

You glanced up at him, your eyes playful, teasing. The jersey—his jersey—hung loosely on you, oversized and draped just enough to show the straps of your top underneath. And that damn miniskirt? He was already obsessed with it, but now? Seeing you like this, between his legs, doing this for him?

“Yer so good at this,” he rasped, his voice breaking on the last word as he fought to keep himself together. “Shit, sweetheart, you were made for this.”

His fingers tightened in your hair for just a second before he forced himself to loosen his hold, not wanting to rush—not wanting to lose control just yet. But God, you were testing him.

His free hand trailed along your jaw, his thumb swiping against your cheek. You moaned and you could feel him twitching in your mouth, his nails dug your skin.

“Fuck—just like that, sweetheart," Atsumu groaned. “Yer gonna ruin me.”

Oh, yeah. You could tell—the way his fingers twitched, the way his thighs tensed—that he was close to coming. His hips jerked forward as your throat tightened around him. You could feel his abs clenching as he tried to fight the sensation.

And when he finally came, his whole body shaking as he gasped, letting out a string of curses and your name, his voice rough and unguarded. And he swore he’d never felt anything better in his life.

"God," Atsumu's voice cracked as he was drown in ecstasy. "F—fuck, yer so good, takin' me like this. Fuck!"

Panting, Atsumu slumped back in the chair, trying to gather himself while you—ever the perfectionist—made sure there was no mess left behind. You wiped the corner of you lips with the back of your hand after you swallowed, equally breathless.

When you finally met his gaze again, his pupils were blown wide, his lips slightly parted as he reached for you. Without a word, he pulled you into his lap, and you could feel his cock hardening under your skirt. He captured your lips in a desperate kiss, rough and needy. His tongue swept against yours, tasting himself, tasting you.

“Damn,” he muttered against your lips, still breathless. “Best pre-game ever.”

You grinned, running your fingers through his hair, “Feeling relaxed now?”

He let out a low chuckle, resting his forehead against yours.

“Oh, baby, I feel like I could take on the whole damn world.”

And he did.

When he finally strolled into the locker room, his grin was impossibly smug, his energy noticeably lighter. He carried himself with a looseness that hadn’t been there earlier. His usual confidence was always noticeable, but this? This was something else entirely. His grin was impossibly smug, his shoulders rolled back like he had no worries in the world.

His teammates all exchanged questioning glances, brows raised at his uncharacteristically serene demeanor.

“Alright,” Sakusa drawled, narrowing his eyes. “The hell happened to you?”

Atsumu just stretched, rolling his shoulders like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Nothin’ much,” he said, though the cocky glint in his eyes told another story. “Just can’t wait for the game.”

Bokuto raised a brow, giving Atsumu a once-over, “You look suspiciously… at ease. Which is a good thing, I guess.”

“Real motivated today,” Atsumu replied, stretching dramatically as if he hadn't a single muscle tight in his body. He threw himself onto the bench, arms draped over the backrest like a king surveying his court.

Meian, never one to miss a detail, flicked his gaze over his setter with mild interest, “Uh-huh. And why’s that?”

Atsumu just smirked, tilting his head back against the lockers with a satisfied sigh, “Let’s just say… I got some extra encouragement before the game.”

The team exchanged looks, and though no one said it outright, they all knew. The cockier-than-usual grin, the glint in his eyes, the way he was way too damn pleased with himself—it all pointed to one thing.

“Disgusting,” Sakusa muttered, shaking his head with a frown. “Get a fucking room.”

Atsumu only laughed, grabbing a volleyball and spinning it lazily in his hands, “Already did.”

And with that, he stepped onto the court and gave the best damn sets his team had ever received.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Second Time's The Charm

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: You and your kind of ex-wife

Lips smashed against yours before you could even compute what was going on.

They were still as soft as ever and you opened your own so Alexia could slip her tongue inside.

"Hi," She said, pulling away slowly.

"Hi."

You smiled at her.

She looked nearly the same as when you divorced her and left the country. The same cheeks. The same nose. The same eyes. The same awkward little smile on her face.

“I missed you,” She said,” I heard from Alba you were coming home and I couldn’t believe it. I missed you!”

“I missed you too, Ale.”

Her arms were open and you stepped into them. They were just as familiar as they were when you broke up and you melted into them now.

“Sorry,” Someone said,” What the fuck?! Alexia, you’re dating now?!”

Both you and Alexia looked at Mapi in confusion.

“No. Why would you think that?”

“Because you just started snogging her in front of all of us,” Lucy replied, hands shoved into her pockets casually,” I thought we were meant to be meeting the new medic but, no, I guess you were really getting acquainted.”

You laughed, shaking your head fondly as Alexia pouted, her arms tightening around you just like they did years ago when Alba teased you for being mushy.

“She’s my wife,” Alexia insisted, stamping her foot.

“Ex-wife,” You butted in quickly as the team’s mouths fell open in shock. Very few of them had been on the team the same time you and Alexia had been married, childhood sweethearts that eloped the day after you both turned eighteen.

Alexia laughed nervously and you narrowed your eyes.

You recognised that laugh. You’d heard that laugh for years when she pretended to a teacher that her homework was just in her locker and that’s why she hadn’t handed it in or when she promised Eli that she wasn’t the one that broke her favourite glass cabinet and it was really her who had kicked a football right through it.

You knew that laugh very well.

“Alexia,” You said, teeth gritted,” What did you do?”

“Now, amor,” She said,” Just remember that-“

“Alexia, confess!”

“I may have forgotten to file the papers.”

“Alexia!” You snapped before sighing. A bubble of laughter emerged from your throat until you were trapped in an almost hysterical laughing fit. “We signed them together. At the kitchen table. How did you forget?”

“I promise I was going to!” She insisted,” But I had other stuff to do and it just got buried and Mama did some cleaning and she must have shredded them on accident!”

“Alexia, that was years ago! Are you saying that we’re still married?”

“That depends.”

“On?”

“On which answer will get me in trouble.”

Fondly, you tugged on her ponytail. “You are so lucky I love you.”

She grinned. “Enough to stay married?”

You shrugged. “Well, it’s a hassle to file the papers and work out the separation of assets again.”

“Oh, thank god.” Alexia fished something out of her pocket and it was only when she slid it onto your finger again that you recognised it as your wedding ring. She was the one that had bought them and while you knew that hers had remained on a chain around her neck, you hadn’t ever wondered what had happened to yours after you returned it.

You just assumed it had been thrown to the bottom of her jewellery box.

“Have you been carrying that around since you found out I was coming home?”

Like a professional, she skirted around your question. “Home! You need to move in again! The clothes you left all got put into a storage locker so we should probably swing by there after work. Your office is practically the same but kind of dusty so I’ll clean it up while you unpack.”

You nodded, mulling over the plan in your head. “You know that if I have back in then so does Mr Stinky.”

Alexia wrinkled her nose in disgust. “You still have him?”

“Yes, Ale! Just because I moved to England doesn’t mean I abandoned my cat!”

She pursed her lips before admitting. “I think there’s still a few of his toys under the sofa. I can never manage to get them all.”

“And I want the left side of the bathroom sink.”

She nodded before freezing. “Hey! Wait, no! That’s my side! That’s always been my side! You can’t just take it!”

You flashed your ring. “You want this to work? I want the left side of the sink.”

“Well…I want…I want…I want the right side of the dresser!”

“Done!”

“Done!”

“Sorry, no,” Mapi butted in. You’d almost forgotten that you were meant to be introducing yourself to the team. “Not done. Let me get this straight. You two got married, divorced but not really and now you’ve decided to get back together?!”

You shrugged. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“But you divorced!” It was clear that she was struggling to wrap her head around this.

“It wasn’t really a breakup though,” Alexia said flippantly,” We still hooked up every time she came home. We only really tried to get a divorce because she was leaving for England. I was clingy when I was younger.”

The whole team pointedly stared at Alexia’s hands on your waist and how they hadn’t moved but to put your ring back on your finger.

“Clingier,” You amended,” And I needed to leave for more money. We decided it would just be easier to get divorced but I guess that didn’t work out.”

“Oh!” Alexia said suddenly,” I need to tell Mama! She’ll be so happy! She’s always talking about you to everyone.”

“Oh, I’m glad. I’ll have to call my Mama too. She’s always telling people that her daughter-in-law is Alexia Putellas. You’ll have to come to Sunday lunch this week. My aunts and uncles will be there.”

“Next week we’ll go to mine then,” Alexia agreed,” Mama will want you to try her paella again. She tweaked the recipe.”

“Oh, great! I love Eli’s paella. My-“

“No!” Mapi said, pointing at both of you in turn,” This is moving so quickly. I’m sorry but what the hell?!”

“Oh,” You said,” I didn’t introduce myself properly. I’m y/n. I’m the new doctor on the team. Alexia’s…well I was going to say ex but apparently we’re still married so I’m Ale’s wife! I look forward to getting to know you all.”

[dameronspector]

The Past Will Catch Up

(a follow up to this, I'd suggest reading that first!)

Pairing: Manny Alvarez x GN!Reader

Summary: You should’ve killed them, then and there. You and Ellie both, should’ve simply killed them. But now they’ve hurt you and Manny faces a huge challenge when he finds out who hurt you. AKA everyone gets their revenge.

Warnings: Mentions of blood, guns, gunshot wounds, broken ribs, physical fights/assault, hospitals, panic attacks, nausea, ANGST, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Cursing, Tommy and Reader are stuck in a storm, Manny is a love sick fool, Manny and Reader want children/talks of children, Reader is mentioned to have hair, Reader is mentioned to have muscly arms, Protective Manny, that's all i think. Let me know if i have missed anything! There will be a part 2, as do all my fics cus i cant keep them short wtf im sorry.

AN: hoooo boy am i excited for this. This picks up right where Getaway Car part 3 left. Also i am ignoring canon (fuck ne*l) and ignoring danny's defense for abby (sorry danny) because i am fed up w this show. Also I know the title is probably BAD but pls ignore it I’m sick 🤧

PS: I don't know anything about the game, my characterisation is based off the wiki information, the show and my own imagination.

It’s been a peaceful 2 years in Jackson with Manny. He had settled right in, growing softer around the edges no matter how much he denied it. The two of you had formed a healthy and mundane routine and you couldn’t be any more happier. All that pain, the separation, the stress—it was all worth it for now you could sleep next to him and wake up to his gorgeous face, you’d watch him sip his precious cup of coffee on your porch swing, how he fit right in with Joel and Tommy—the older men taking a liking to him and considering him as their own, how he’d spend time with the children and the elderly, how he’d come home with a smile and help you cook dinner, promising to massage your achy joints later—you loved every part of it.

Manny had a glow to him. And it mostly came from watching you tend to the horses and teach the children, how you looked after Joel, Ellie and your entire found family, how you’d take care of him after a particularly hard day or a rough nightmare, how beautiful you looked in the cold weather with snowflakes frosted on your eyelashes, the way you’d look at him bashfully when you caught him staring, the two of you bantering casually as you cooked dinner or patrolled together, the glow from the way your family had taken him under their wings—your love had changed him. And he loved it.

He loved it so much, that a few months ago, he’d gone over to Joel’s to talk about salvaging a ring and to ask for his permission to marry you. Joel was pleasantly impressed that Manny had actually lived up to his promise and had happily given his blessings, helping Manny get a ring for you.

It was a simple ring—a thin gold band with a small diamond on it. They had gone to a neighbouring civilisation where they found a jewellery shop. Happy with the early discovery, the two of them broke in and immediately began searching for any left over items. And that’s when Manny found it, hidden deep inside the shop’s storage locker, beneath a few scattered boxes and show trays, a beautiful, dainty ring with a singular diamond on top of it. Fit for you. The band was a little tarnished, but since it was covered by all the boxes, the damage was small enough that it could be restored easily. Joel patted Manny’s back in approval and they rode back to Jackson.

Originally, Manny thought he’d wait a little longer. Tease the idea a little and see your reaction to it. But then, the following week after he came back home from helping with some restoration, the sight that greeted him almost made him fall to his knees.

There you were, passed out on the couch, with his sweater around you and a tiny baby cuddled up to your chest. He immediately recognised the baby—it belonged to your neighbours Tara and Will, it was their 6 month old daughter, Elina, that had taken a special liking to you since you’d babysit her often when her parents went on patrol. Manny hadn’t confess this yet, but he his insides curl with longing every time he saw you with children. Making him wonder what you’d look like your own kids.

He approached the couch and quietly crouched down to your eye level, Elina’s tiny fingers twitching in her sleep and curling against your sweater tightly. You instinctively brought up a hand to support her small back and smoothed it across to calm her. Manny couldn’t resist and he brought his hand up to smooth your hair back from your forehead, his warm hand resting on the side of your head and thumb brushing against your hairline.

You felt the weight against your head and slowly opened your eyes, blinking them rapidly to get rid of the bleariness and focused on Manny’s rosy face. Flashing him a lazy smile and cradling Elina closer to you, you whispered a quiet “Hello”, to which he gave you a soft smile and leaned in to plant a kiss on your forehead.

“Hey, angel. How’re you? I missed you”, he replied back in a whisper, careful not to wake up Elina. His voice was laced with fond adoration.

You smiled bashfully before scrunching your nose. Manny watched, transfixed, if you didn’t stop being cute right now he was going to propose you right away.

“Missed me? You were literally ten minutes away, Em”, you giggled.

“Ten minutes too far from you”, he murmured before leaning in to kiss you on the lips. You hummed into it, leaning closer and jostling Elina in the process. She flinched and you separated from Manny to press a hand to her back, an apologetic look on your face.

“Sorry, honey”, you softly murmured to her sleeping body, leaning to the side to check if she was still asleep. Thankfully, she was.

Manny watched the interaction with a love sick look in his eyes.

“She was so fussy today. Pouting and sulking, too. Got her to sleep after almost two hours of resistance. She’s-”

“Marry me.”

He said it in such a casual way that you had to take a double take. “Wait, what?”, you asked him in surprise.

“Marry me, angel”, he repeats for you, completely sitting on the floor with his hands wringing against each other. You’ve never seen him so nervous in recent times.

“Manny-”, a choked laugh escaped you, your tearful eyes once again making his form in front of you blurry. He scrunched his eyebrows in concern and immediately brought up a hand to caress your cheek.

“You don’t even have a ring”, you joked, sniffling.

He fished a hand in his pocket and presented you a ring. You gasped.

“W-what? Where-”

“Had it since last week. Salvaged it from a jewellery store with Joel. Asked for his permission too”, he confessed with a tight voice and your eyes widened, a tear falling from them and pooling in his palm.

“Please say something”, a desperate whisper left his mouth and his eyes shimmered with unshed emotion.

You sniffled and gave him a bright smile, “Yes. Yes, Manny. I’ll marry you, baby.”

Manny gave you a watery smile and slid the ring on your left ring finger, bringing it up and kissing it. You pulled him by the hand to kiss him sweetly, your hand cradling his face so lovingly, that he nearly cried.

Elina gurgled in your arms and the two of you broke apart, looking at her with soft eyes. He laid a hand on top of yours on her tiny back.

“Can’t wait to have one of ours”, he mumbled before looking at you with a shine in his eyes. You blushed and pushed his shoulder, his quiet laugh echoing in the still room.

-

The news had reached your family soon and they had all spoiled you, Maria treating you to some delicious food and some gifts from each of them. Joel gave you a warm hug and a little wooden sculpture of penguins. You recalled how he told you that penguins mated for life, the symbolism of his gift made something crack in you with overwhelming love for the old man. Ellie, Dina and Jesse had grumbled at the news but they were happy for you, choosing to remain formal with Manny instead. Tommy had gathered the two of you in a hug, offering to give some brotherly advice to Manny and had threatened him to never hurt you again. Manny looked positively nervous at that.

It's been a week since that and unfortunately, you were up for patrol tomorrow. Manny wasn’t going to be your partner this time, having to help with the school restoration work. Which meant that Manny was going to sulk for the whole day till you came back home. Ever since he proposed, he’s gotten way more clingy. Wanting to be close to you, constantly holding your hands, keeping an arm around your waist, keeping your hair tie around his wrist just so he could feel a part of you with him. Mornings were even more difficult, he’d trap you in his arms if you tried to even move. This combined, with his age old habit of worrying himself sick when you went on patrol, made tasks impossible to accomplish because you couldn’t depart from his sad, sulking face.

Currently you were lying in your bed with your face pressed against Manny’s chest, your bodies a mess of limbs, his arms wound around you like tree roots, his lips pressed to your hairline.

You could feel them move when he spoke quietly, “Do you really have to go? I don’t feel good about this. It’s the same feeling I had when you’d gotten stabbed back in the QZ”, a solemn and pained lilt to his voice, his arms bringing you closer to his chest as if he was afraid you’d disappear.

Your heart ached, for this was all new to him—this intimacy, this openness, this vulnerability. The fact that he even shared this with you was an honor in itself. A testament to his trust in you and his love for you. When you’d gotten stabbed, you were there to witness first hand how it affected him. He had this guilty and haunted look in his eyes and that incident plus your separation from each other for 5 years, just made him more protective of you.

Pressing a kiss to his chest, you consoled him in a soft voice, “I understand, baby. But, Tommy’s coming with me, yeah? You know how good he’s at the job. I’ll be fine, I promise. And I’ll pull back the moment I think something is wrong, okay? I promise.”

You pulled back from his embrace and cradled his beautiful face in your hand, his cheeks cold to the touch and sharp eyes shimmering in the low light of your shared bedroom. You would stare at him in awe, even today, his lovely features rendering you speechless at times. And now that he’d been clean shaven for some time (after you made an offhand comment at how you loved the moles around his mouth), you could openly admire the little moles scattered around his face.

He leaned into your palm and closed his eyes before exhaling shakily. “Promise me. You’ll come back to me safely”, his scratchy voice whispered in your hand.

You smiled fondly and leaned in to seal the promise with a kiss, him immediately reciprocating and kissing you back feverishly, like he didn’t have much time and wanted to feel all of you at once.

He broke away to hold up your hand, pressing one, two, three gentle kisses to your ring and leaned his forehead against you, sending out a prayer in the universe to keep you safe.

-

Come morning, he’d pouted the entire time till you departed. He still helped you get ready, packing your supplies, saddling your horse, helping you with the breakfast—everything, but with a sad little look on his face. When you finally joined Tommy by the gate, Manny held you close to him, a hand cradling the back of your head and the other one bringing you closer by the waist. You buried your face in his neck and murmured reassuring things, promising that you’d come back before leaning back and kissing him with passion.

You broke away after Tommy cleared his throat, both of your cheeks heated and hearts hammering against your chests before Manny told Tommy to look after you and Tommy gave him a teasing smile.

Manny stayed by the gates till he couldn’t see you anymore, the situation feeling like a déjà vu and leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He just prayed you’d come back safely or else he’d lose his damn mind.

-

It was too fucking windy. And it was raining, making your visibility poor. It looked way too similar to what happened 2 years ago and you tried your best to not think about it. You’d avoided confiding in Manny about how you were feeling the same unease as him. Ever since you found out about your duty today, you’d been feeling off. Like something was going to happen.

If you’d have told this to Manny, he’d put you on lockdown so you just kept quiet and agreed to the duty. Plus, Tommy was accompanying you. You had nothing to worry about.

Your horses tried to walk through the harsh winds and cold water hitting you head on, Tommy and you were soaked head to toe.

“Sweetheart, I think we should take shelter for sometime. Wait till the rain calms down”, he shouted to you over the sound of the winds and you nodded, too exhausted to say anything as your entire body was heavy and wet with the water seeping through your clothes. Your radio was completely out, the storm making it impossible to find any signal.

Tommy and you found a run down supermarket, choosing to hole down in it for a while before the rain slows down.

The two of you did the routine checks around the store, looking for any infected or raiders. It was too quiet, even in a storm, and that unnerved you. Every sound felt like it was something bigger and you kept whipping your head around, startled by them.

You were peering around one of the aisles, your gun raised and your eyes open wide in focus. You tiptoed through the sides when you heard some noise from down the hall. Snapping your head to the hall, you approached it, body tensed up in alarm. Tommy was all the way across the other side of the huge store, clearing out the storage room and you felt a trail of sweat drip down your neck.

Then you finally hear it, a few footsteps and murmurs. There were people here. More than one. You immediately straightened up, slowly back-walking to Tommy when suddenly a damp hand clamped on your mouth tightly, muffling any sounds of struggle before pulling you away from sight. Your eyes widened and you moved your arms, the person grabbing your dominant hand tightly, their fingers pressing harshly into yours that were holding onto the gun. After a point the pain got unbearable and your grip loosened, the person taking away your gun. You were sure your fingers would be bruised after this.

Defenceless, you kicked your legs and put your entire body weight on the person behind you, landing a few harsh kicks directly to their shin and making them groan in pain. This just angered them more and they restrained you even further, a muscular arm coming around your front to still your moments. Your next instinct was to clamp down on their palm with your teeth, hard. That made them let out a shriek of pain and their grip loosened, giving you leverage to break free and turn around to check who it was.

Tommy ran out of the storage room he was in and called out for you, “(Name)?!”, his tone frantic and worried. He made his way over to you, jumping over some fallen debris and shelves, keeping a vigilant ear open for any sounds.

Whipping your head around, a few strands of your wet hair sticking to your face, and you came face to face with the last person you wanted to see in your life.

Your eyes widened as your breathless voice whispered, “Abby?”

She gave you a death glare before pouncing on you, her hands going around your neck and she pressed you against the broken down refrigerator, her breaths coming in uneven huffs, hair just as messed up and wet as yours.

You choked before digging your nails into her hands, drawing blood and effectively distracting her. You took that as your window and threw your pack to the ground before landing a harsh slap against her face, her head whipping to the side and drawing blood from the corner of her mouth. She took a moment to recover and you got your lick back, pinning her down on the floor and restraining her arms, straddling her lap as you did so. You quickly unholstered her gun and threw it across the aisle, beginning with her knives next. You were so busy in disarming her, that you didn’t notice another person creep up on you, their gun raised.

By now both of your breaths came out in harsh gasps, and you wanted to respond to Tommy’s call so badly but you were distracted, your mind clouded with the anger and resentment towards Abby. She tried to get up, but you grabbed her chin harshly with your left hand and shoved her back down, holding a gun against her forehead with your right.

“Don’t fucking move. I’ll blow your brains out”, you seethed, your teeth gritted. You wouldn’t say you were particularly stronger than her, physically, but you were quick and steady in your movements. Years of physical labour and training had made you muscular enough to go against a person of Abby’s built.

Abby’s eyes shifted behind you for a moment, before she smirked and a gunshot went off. You howled in pain as the bullet struck your shoulder, hands leaving Abby to grip it, the blood pooling around your hands. Abby used the leverage to shove you off her, getting up and cornering you, another body joining her.

Tommy was on full alert now, his rifle’s safety off and ready to fire at anything that came across him and his heart thundering against his chest at the sound of a pained scream, “(Name), you answer me, now!”, he yelled in what you called as his ‘Sergeant Voice’.

He didn’t know if it was you or someone else that was hurt and he hated that. His eyes were blown wide, entire body tensed and on edge, head whipping around in all directions, mind conjuring up scary images of you lying unconscious or worse. How was he going to face Manny or Joel if something happened to you?

You writhed in pain, your entire right side numb with pain and mind disoriented because of the blood loss. As your blood kept oozing out of the wound and stained your hands, clothes, your ring and the floor, you slowly lifted your bloodshot eyes up, wanting to see the face of the person who had shot you. And unsurprisingly, your eyes fell on Nora, her gun still aimed at you. Her and Abby’s bodies were heaving up and down with their harsh breathing, sweat glistening against their face and a crazed look in their eyes.

“You deserve this. And so did Joel”, Abby spit at you in fury and landed a swift kick to your ribs, her heavy and hard boots digging into your rib cage. You swore you felt a bone crack, it was dangerously poking against your lungs and you wheezed, your senses going into overdrive from that and the bullet wound in the shoulder rendering your entire right side in an almost paralysed state.

You couldn’t move or bend or do anything, really. One wrong move and it sent you howling, eyes rolling back in head from the agony.

Suddenly, Abby and Nora whipped their heads to the side, looking at each other in fear after.

“Fuck, he’s coming! Abby, let’s move”, Nora gritted her teeth at Abby in urgency.

Your exhausted mind somehow picking up that Tommy was close. You wheezed again, in an attempt to make a noise to get his attention, a lone tear falling past your cheek. Abby clenched her jaw and crouched in front of you, holding your chin harshly in her hand.

“We’ll come back. And we’ll fucking finish Joel and you, together”, she seethed before releasing your chin and rushing out of the store from the back door, knowing that they could escape without Tommy catching up because he’d be too distracted to focus on you.

-

The hair on Tommy’s body was raised in fear and anticipation, swiftly moving past the huge aisles to get to you. Distant sounds of struggles were echoing across the store, his wet boots squelching in the otherwise quiet and eerie silence. He cursed himself for leaving you alone, he should’ve just asked you to join him in the storage room but he thought he’d save you some time by splitting up. His sharp ears then heard footsteps receding, and he decided to call out for you once more.

“(Name), make some noise and lemme know where you are, sweetheart. I’m comin’ to ya, tell me where you are, please”, his shaky voice rang out in desperation.

Your half conscious mind managed to hear him, wheezing coughs leaving your gaped mouth, your shoulder a complete mess of blood, shattered bones and broken skin, your ribs bruising and sending white hot jolts of pain every time you breathed in. And yet, your bleary eyes took note of the fallen pipes around you, your quick thinking saving you at the last moment. You moved your leg and managed to kick the pipes, making a loud noise. You immediately heard loud footsteps thudding across the floor, feeling the vibrations against your cheek that laid on the dusty ground.

Tommy ran across the aisle and stopped dead in his tracks. He quickly lowered his rifle and strapped it across his shoulders, his wide eyes taking in your exhausted and bloodied body, scary wheezes and painful whines leaving your mouth. You were bent at an odd angle, half on your side half lying down, one of your arm was holding your middle, and the other limply holding your bloodied shoulder, the entire hand covered in blood. There was a sheen of sweat on your face, your hair and clothes were still damp, the blood sticking to it and making it a crusted mess.

“(Name)!”, your name left his mouth in a sorrowful cry, his body shaking with worry and anger towards the people who did this to you and towards himself because all this happened while he was right there.

He rushed over to kneel next to you, his arms hovering over your body anxiously, trying to figure out a way to hold you without hurting you further. You whimpered and moved your hand from the shoulder to weakly point at the back door.

Tommy followed your finger and looked back to nod at you in sympathy, “Yeah, I know they escaped. It’s okay, we gotta go home, kid”, he reassured you, his eyebrows scrunched in tension. He could see your body shivering from the blood loss and exhaustion. He needed to take you back to Jackson now.

“Sweetheart, I gotta do some first aid on you before we leave, okay? I’m gonna have to shift you a lil’. It’s gonna hurt”, he gently warned you and held both of your hands in his, trying to warm them up.

The cold was seeping into your bones now, your damp clothes sticking to your body uncomfortably. You scrunched your face in pain as you wheezed, tears streaming down your face with the unbearable pain.

You were so sure you were going to die here. You wouldn’t get to say goodbye to Manny—your sweet, grumpy fiancé. He must be so anxious right now. And if he sees you like this, he’s going to lose his damn mind. You wouldn’t get to say goodbye to your father and sister and your friends. Poor Tommy would blame himself for this and you couldn’t console him either.

You just glanced at him helplessly, your eyes red from all the tears and mouth quivering. Tommy balled up a piece of cloth in his hand and supported your uninjured shoulder with a firm hand, slowly shifting you on your back. You let out a scream of pain and Tommy shushed you gently, his hand brushing your hair back to keep you calm so that you don’t hyperventilate.

He finally managed to shift you, your screams and whimpers of pain echoing throughout the empty space, his own eyes filled with tears.

After a lot of struggle, you were finally on your back. Out of breath and tired, your eyes slowly started shutting off, chest moving slower, causing Tommy to stop his movements abruptly.

“Hey-HEY! Eyes on me, (Name), c’mon, look at me!”, he shouted and lightly patted your cheeks, your eyes opening slightly before closing again.

“Fuck!”, Tommy cursed and moved his hands faster, putting pressure on the bullet wound to stop the bleeding before checking if the bullet had left the body. He looked around and saw a lone bloody bullet, a few feet away from where you were lying and sighed in momentary relief.

Once the blood flow had somewhat stopped, he removed his belt and tied it around your shoulder, making a torniquet. That’s what got you to finally move as your face twisted in pain and you whimpered while Tommy tightened the belt, your uninjured arm coming up to grab Tommy’s elbow to steady yourself.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I have to do this”, Tommy consoled you and finished tightening the belt, the blood slowly trickling down his hand.

You let out an exhale and limply held onto Tommy’s shirt sleeve, your head lolling around.

“(Name), HEY!”, Tommy straightened up in alarm and pressed two fingers to your neck, feeling your faint heartbeat against them. He clenched his jaw and decided to leave the place immediately, wanting you to get treatment as soon as possible. All the blood loss and difficulty in breathing was making you tired and you’d gone unresponsive to any of his calls.

You felt woozy, like somebody had stuffed cotton in your mouth, ears and brain. Tommy’s voice sounded so far away, your vision constantly shifting and blurring and the throbbing in your shoulder and ribs making you nauseous.

Tommy strapped everything in place and slowly brought his hands under your body, preparing to lift you up.

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna carry you now, alright? It might hurt but we need to get back home, yeah? Joel, Ellie, Manny—they’re all waiting for you. Stay with me till we reach the hospital, (Name). Please”, his wobbly voice requested you, his accent coming out stronger because of the lump lodged in his throat.

He picked you up, your body shivering and heart breaking whimpers leaving you, and carefully cradled you against his chest. He picked up your pack with one hand and speed walked to your horses.

You, on the other hand, tried your best to stay awake. If not for you, then for Tommy. And if not for Tommy, then for Manny.

-

Manny was so sure that he was going to go crazy. It’s been 3 hours since you and Tommy had left. You were supposed to be back by hour 2. He had abandoned all of his work by that time and was distracted enough that Joel had taken pity on Manny and excused him. He kept pacing around the town, lingering near the gates with the hopes of being the first one to see you come in.

Maria looked at him and told him to join her in the office, asking to help her arrange some files, in order to distract him. That didn’t help either, of course, as he kept zoning out and thinking about the worst case scenario.

Manny was an impulsive and reckless person since forever, but this was a whole new level of unease that made him feel like he wanted to run away in search of you and bring you back home himself. His lips were red from all the biting he’d done out of stress, hands constantly sweating and a permanent scowl on his face, making him appear grumpier and even more unapproachable than the usual.

He’d tried talking to Amy in the radio room, Joel and Ellie were present as well. But the radio was completely busted because of the storm and him and Joel spent a good 30 minutes in the room, glued to the speaker when Amy politely asked them to step out, requesting for some time to repair the signals without the pressure and without the three of them breathing down her neck. They had reluctantly left the room before Maria would ask them to leave.

His chest was hurting since last night, an eerie feeling of doom and despair blocking his air flow. And now he felt like his heart was on fire, it was racing and he pressed a hand against it while putting back a file on the shelf. He clenched his jaw tightly to dissipate the pain but to no avail, the pain spreading from his shoulder to his chest to his hands.

He pinched his nose, screwing his eyes shut and the other hand smoothing across his chest, hoping to imitate the motions that your soft and gentle hands would make to soothe him. He just hoped you’d come back in the next couple minutes. Or else he was going to take matters into his own hands.

-

Tommy could see the gates of Jackson, finally.

He knew you were late. He knew everyone was probably panicking right now because you were a whole hour late. But helping you on the horse, then joining you on it, proved to be way too fucking difficult. Tommy had undermined the task and was left with no option but to flick some water on your face to get you conscious enough to mount the horse yourself. Bless your soul, you were such a resilient and brave kid, that even though it was an impossible task for you to open your eyes, you listened to him and helped him, climbing the horse in a lazy way, falling off multiple times before managing to mount and promptly passing out. Tommy then secured your horses’ reign to his saddle and rode away slowly, leading your horse and trying not to jostle you too much at the same time. Thankfully the rain had stopped now, so that was one less problem to worry about.

He waved his arms at the watchers on top of the gate and the gate opened, crying out instructions as soon as he passed the gates, “Call Maria! Get the doctors in the hospital and call for a stretcher. Quick!”

A few people buzzed around him, helping him dismount and carefully helping your unconscious body down, Tommy cradling you against his chest again before asking someone to take the horses to the stables.

“Tommy!”, Maria’s voiced called out in urgency and he whipped his head to look at her, his eyes brimming with tears.

Maria came closer and that’s when she noticed your bloodied form against Tommy. “What-“, her eyes widened as she held Tommy’s arm.

Tommy interrupted her, his face and voice grim, “I’ll tell you later. We need to treat ‘em, now. And don’t tell them yet, please. I-”

“Tommy?”

Both Tommy and Maria froze, ice cold fear creeping into their lungs as they heard Joel’s voice call them.

Tommy and Maria turned around subtly, looking at Joel with hesitant eyes.

Joel’s right eye twitched. Something was wrong. He couldn’t see you yet as Maria was covering your body. Joel’s eyes sweeped across the area, trying to find you and he clenched his jaw when he didn’t see you anywhere. He was about to ask, when two people rushed in with a stretcher and pushed it next to Tommy, going closer and carefully retrieving someone from his arms. Joel squinted his eyes to look closely, cursing himself for forgetting his glasses at home.

He came closer to the stretcher and that’s when he saw your army green jacket. Joel froze.

“What- what the hell happened to ‘em-”, he growled and tried to rush over to you when Tommy gently pulled him back, his arms around Joel’s front as he struggled against him, watching you get wheeled away helplessly.

“Easy, brother. They need to get treated right now. Gunshot to the shoulder and broken ribs. I’ll tell you everything. Just- we need to keep Manny and Ellie away from ‘em for now”, Tommy murmured, his bloodshot eyes observing Joel closely. Tommy knew it was going to be a pain in the ass to restrain not one, not two, but three impulsive and reckless people who’d kill anybody who tried to hurt their own.

Joel clenched his jaw, his cheeks shaking from how angrily he was doing it. There was a red tinge to his eyes and his breathing was laboured, like he’d run a marathon.

“Tommy, who the fuck-”, Joel breathed out, cutting his sentence short as he tried to breathe properly.

“I don’t know yet. They’ve seen their faces. We just have to wait till they wake up. They’ve only passed out, don’t worry”, Tommy informed guiltily, Maria placing a hand on his back in support while Tommy rested a hand on Joel’s shoulder.

“Where’s Manny?”, Tommy looked at Maria with tears in his eyes and she pursed her lips.

“At the office. Gave him some work to distract himself. He was by the gate for most of the day.”

Tommy gave her a look and she understood right away that she needed to distract Manny for longer.

“I’ll talk to him.”

Tommy and Maria looked at Joel in shock. Usually when he was having a hard time processing things, he just shut down. Now he was willingly going to try and console Manny and they both agreed that he might be the best person to do so.

Tommy pressed his lips in a thin line and nodded in agreement.

-

Manny was just finishing off organising the last bundle of files when he heard footsteps against the hardwood floor. He snapped his head to check if you had finally come back but his eyes fell on Joel, who looked forlorn. Manny’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He tried to swallow the lump against his throat and decided to lighten the mood a bit.

“Hey, old man. What’s up?”, he casually greeted and went back to stacking the files.

Joel clenched his hands into fists until his knuckles turned white. No matter how hard he rehearsed it, he just couldn’t get the words out.

Manny turned around after Joel was silent for a while, feeling queasy with anxiety.

“What is it, Joel?”, he murmured lowly and chose to observe Joel’s body language with his beady eyes.

Joel cleared his throat and walked over to where Manny was standing behind the desk. His hands shaking as he put them on the desk to steady himself.

“Tommy and (Name) are back”, Joel saw the way Manny’s eyes lit up, his mouth opening before Joel could finish his sentence.The excitement and relief bouncing off Manny’s body language as he quickly put the files away and made his way to the door.

“What?! Nobody told me. I’ll talk to you later, I-”

“Wait. They’re …they’re hurt”, Joel managed to blurt out, his mouth dry.

Manny froze, he felt like someone had poured cold water on him. The anxiety he’s been feeling since yesterday was real. He didn’t know if he could handle seeing your unmoving face- no. He couldn’t think like that. Not if he wanted to die right here. Not if that meant he would die without seeing you for the last time.

He didn’t turn around. His ears buzzing and mouth filled with cotton. Joel decided to continue, thinking that Manny should know the whole thing without reaching to conclusions.

“It’s- it’s a gunshot to the shoulder and broken ribs. They’re only unconscious...just got wheeled to the hospital right now, you might-”

Before he could finish speaking, Manny was already out of the room, running all the way to the hospital, not caring if he bumped anybody on the way or that he almost tripped, not caring if the muddy ground was making his shoes dirty or if he splashed the dirty water on his pants--he just needed to get to you. To see you.

He finally reached the hospital, everything else around him was a blur and his breathing laboured. He could feel his ears make that tinny sound, the sounds in the background appearing muffled to him. He rushed over to the reception and managed to state your full name, asking desperately about your room number when he felt a hand clasp on his shoulder. He whipped around, half expecting you to be standing there but he was met with Tommy's guilt-ridden and pained eyes. Before he could say anything, Tommy wordlessly guided Manny down the corridor on their right and stopped right in front of the operation theatre.

"They're in there. Bullet went outta their body so, thankfully, no major artery was hurt and no fragments are stuck. The ribs are broken, though. They just got 'em in. We gotta wait for further news", Tommy recited the information blankly, his mind somewhere else.

Manny clenched his jaw and felt his vision blur, an onslaught of tears pooling in his eyes and falling past his cheeks. All he could think of, was that he shouldn't have let you go. He should've listened to his instincts. Part of him was already feeling like he was the one to be blamed for your condition. He tried to swallow past the lump in his throat, talking suddenly felt like an incredibly difficult task but he pushed through, and finally asked the question that he wanted to since Joel relayed the news to him.

"W-who was it", he let out in a cracked voice, his hands shaking with how harshly he was clenching them.

"Couldn't see 'em. (Name) knows, though."

Manny felt his heart break for you, someone had ambushed you right when they knew you were alone. Fucking cowards. But he was also sure of the fact that you must've put up a great fight, his chest swelling with pride at the thought of how skilled and brave you are.

This was a major case of deja vu. He couldn't believe that he was in the same position now, as he was years ago. Waiting for you while you fought for your life inside. He hadn't been able to save you then, and he couldn't save you now. Maybe the real coward was he, himself.

"Don't do that."

Manny snapped his head to the side to look at Tommy with bloodshot eyes.

"'s not gonna help us. It's not gonna help (Name). Blaming yourself isn't the answer. We need to be strong for them right now, alright?", Tommy conceded in a gruff voice, his eyes turned away from Manny's.

"You say that as if you're not doin' the same right now", Manny scoffed in disbelief and walked away from Tommy, leaving him behind with his racing thoughts and unbearable guilt.

-

The operation finished 2 hours later. They shifted you to a special room where you could get some privacy and everyone could visit you in peace. When Manny got the approval to see you, he damn near broke the door to your room. He'd been loitering around the waiting area, his body kind of shutting down and a steady numbness spreading across his bones. He was aimlessly staring at his hands when Tommy called him over in urgency, informing him that he could see you now.

His stomach was in knots, the anticipation and fear of reuniting with you driving him crazy. Tommy had warned him that you wouldn't wake up any time soon, the blood loss and internal injuries had been too much for your body to handle. Manny reluctantly nodded, a sour taste in his mouth at the fact he'd have to wait for even longer to finally hear your voice.

As he entered the room, his eyes fell on your limp hands first, then the slow rise and fall of your chest, then your bandaged and elevated shoulder, and lastly, your beautiful and tired face. He almost fell to his knees when Tommy held him up, guiding him over to your bedside and pulling out a chair for him to sit. Shortly, Tommy left the room, wanting to give you two some privacy.

For a while Manny just stared at your face, taking you in hungrily, like he was man starved for days. His heart was lying there, right in front of him. Then, he slowly lifted a shivering hand, placing it on top of yours and the moment your skin touched his, he broke down. Brown eyes poured out tears while he leaned his head against your hand. He pressed fervent kisses against the back of your hand, trying to commit to memory the feel of you against him.

"I-", he choked on his own saliva, swallowing harshly, "'M sorry. I'm so sorry, baby-", he let out in between sobs, his tears dampening your hand. He wiped a hand across his face and stood up, leaning over your face to lovingly smooth a hand over your head. His teary eyes flitted all over your face, leaning in to press a tender and lingering kiss against your forehead.

"I'll make them pay. I promise, angel, I'll make them pay. J-just, please, please wake up for me. I can't take another separation from you. I can't-", his quivering lips moved against your forehead before he pulled back to press his against it, closing his eyes in longing. He just wanted to take you home and sleep on your shared bed. That's all he asks for. He wants to see you smile at him in that cheeky way you do whenever you're joking, he wants to you hear your soft humming of a forgotten song while you cooked, he wants to feel your soft hands touch him in that caring and sweet way--like he's something precious--he wants it all. That's all he wanted. He just wanted his fiancé, his best friend, his heart and soul back.

-

Part 2

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[wallysletterman]

you wanted inspo for wally - so here I am!! I've been thinking about stealing his letterman jacket for DAYS at this point, & wondering just how proud he would get seeing his name displayed so clearly on my back/chest.

57

pairing: wally clark x reader

word count: 0.9k

authors note: omggg this is so cute !!! i enjoyed writing this so much i hope you love it :3

wally clark adores his letterman jacket. he would wear it to bed if it weren’t for your protests. you have to remind him how gross it would be, but the only response from him are rolled eyes.

it’s a point of pride for him. for wally, there’s no better feeling than walking the halls with his teammates in those jackets. it makes him feel like he belongs to something bigger than him.

the five white letters in a cursive scrawl give him a sense of accomplishment. those simple letters made him feel on top of the world: Wally.

because of that pride, you’ve rarely had the chance to try it out for yourself.

there was one time, though. while wally was out on the field for this year's homecoming game, you convinced him to let you keep it warm during those two hours.and that’s where the jacket lay, across your shoulders.

that was until wally ran up to you and, without hesitation, begged for it back. you couldn’t take it personally. as much as you wanted to. it was wally, and if it comforted him, you weren’t going to complain.

but inevitably, you had had enough. seeing the other girls strutting down the hall with their boyfriends' jackets made you just the tiniest bit jealous. but you’d never admit that to him. wally was going to give you his jacket, whether he wanted to or not.

it was on a random tuesday morning when you decided to head to school slightly earlier than usual.

you headed straight to wally’s locker, 208.

you methodically turn the dial to the simple three-digit combo, 03-06-01. you hurried, worried wally was, by some miracle, going to show up early.

alongside his chemistry books, polaroids of you both, and random loose papers, was his jacket. you quickly slipped it on, feeling proud of what you were about to get away with.

the bell echoed throughout the school, signaling third period would begin in just five minutes: trigonometry. ugh.

you hadn't bumped into wally all morning and although you were eager to surprise him, you decided to touch up in the bathroom first. you wanted to make an entrance.

as soon as you stepped into the classroom, you caught wally’s gaze. you interrupted his conversation with one of his teammates, completely ignoring anything coming out of his friend’s mouth. his jaw practically fell to the floor.

you tried your best to act nonchalant as you took a seat in front of wally, politely apologizing to mr. reed for your tardiness.

the two numbers in bright white lettering stared back at wally, 57.

you were his, and you both knew it.

you hadn't spoken a word to him the entire period. you wanted to tease him for as long as possible, ensuring he would give up his jacket willingly next time.

as soon as you heard the dismissal bell, you quickly gathered your things. , feeling wally on your heels as you approached the hallway.

“what’s that you got on, y/l/n?” he asks, a hint of playfulness in his voice. without turning around, you responded, “oh, nothing, just something to keep me warm. it’s pretty chilly to-”

before you could finish your teasing remark, you felt wally gently tug at your wrist.

you had no time to protest as you found yourselves in an empty storage closet.

“wally, what are you doing? we have to go to our next peri-” you’re cut off by his lips on yours.

his minty breath was a stark contrast to the heat of the kiss. his lips, soft and inviting, were your absolute favorite thing about him, second to his everything. he was intoxicating as his tongue slipped between your pouty lips. you let out a small yelp as he brought his hands down to your ass, which his jacket covered it ever so slightly.

“i could fuck you in nothing but my jacket right now.” he let out in a hurried mumble.

before the kiss could get more heated, he gave you a final peck to your lips. gently grabbing your face, he whispers, “i liked your little stunt back there. it was cute.”

the light coming from the small crack of the door illuminated his eyes just so. you could tell he was hungry for you.

“i got tired of seeing every other girl wearing theirs," you tell him with a hint of annoyance. “i figured i’d take it into my own hands.” you sigh dramatically.

“i’m sorry y/n,” he says softly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. you can tell he’s sincere. it makes you feel lousy about what you did. your boy didn't mean to hurt you.

“i wanted to ask if you'd wanna wear it," he begins, his tone a mix of anticipation and nervousness. "all the guys have been asking their girlfriends. i was just waiting for the perfect moment.” he finishes.

“i’m sorry,” you start to explain, feeling even worse. “sorry for what, baby?“ he interrupts.

he grips your hand, the warmth of his touch sending a flutter through you. with a playful grin, he spins you around, your laughter mingling with his. “i love seeing you in it,” he says. wally's eyes sparkle with admiration as he watches you twirl, enjoying the oversized look on you.

“you can wear it as often as you'd like, baby." he gives you a gentle peck. "i would love to let the whole world know you're mine."

and just like that, it became a routine. you wouldn’t have to ask for his jacket anymore. as soon as you two would step onto school, he’d immediately take the jacket off and slide it onto your shoulders, always stating, “i should’ve given this to you a long time ago.”

he loved seeing his name stitched across your chest. he’d never forget to remind you how good it made him feel. it gave him a sense of pride he’s never felt before. wearing the jacket wasn’t just about keeping you warm, it symbolized your relationship.

it meant you were his forever.

[humunanunga]

So here's what I think it means: Ramb was most likely talking about Noelle, right? She'd be on the right with the laptop, maybe playing Cat Petters, while Kris was on the left, maybe using the cards and dice to learn parlor tricks (if web searches wouldn't pull up results for teaching humans magic, they might've still been interested in learning sleight-of-hand).

And I think that explains what happened to Spamton.

Tenna doesn't recognize him anymore because they knew each other back when Spamton was a [[BIG SHOT]] in a matching red suit. He might've even had his own commercials on Tenna's screen, but this was also when he resided in Queen's mansion alongside Swatch. (And if this was when the King and Queen met, then it's also when Spamton would've met Jevil.)

Meaning... Spamton's calls with his mysterious benefactor could've been through the landline. Especially if they were still on dial-up internet back then. They stopped because Noelle stopped coming over with the laptop.

And as for Tenna... the dates 12/25 (Christmas Day) and 2/13 (Valentine's Eve) prominently show up, and Kris' implied aversion to watching TV might've been because it was always shoving the tragedy in their face. But it's still unclear whether Tenna knows Dess was never found, or if he was trying to focus on better times, or if he really was trying to push Kris' buttons; but he should at least know she's gone. Dess was the mayor's daughter, after all. If she went missing, it would've been all over the news.

And that could've been why Asgore was removed from the force. He wouldn't let it go, so Carol made him. And if Chapter 4 says anything, he's still investigating in secret– and suspicious of her. And maybe she's just a coldhearted ass who got tired of her public image revolving around an unsolved case instead of her success as town mayor. But she's definitely sus as fuck.

Back to Ramb, though: I think him petrifying establishes what generally makes a Darkner "belong." Darkners are animated objects, and maybe he was simply an overdue loan like the tutorial for drawing dragons, but Ramb was library property regardless. That one Zapper might've been for Asgore' TV all along, since he seems to have the same kind at the flower shop, and his remote could've been borrowed or mixed up.

Meanwhile, the Pippins were safe because they were... that property's property. The Rudinns, according to one, were from Kris' deck, explaining why Lancer and Rouxls were unaffected.

What it doesn't explain is Chapter 4 (which so far is likely more to do with the two Dark Worlds being treated as flipsides) or why the classroom Darkners don't seem to recognize Kris, but maybe the latter's for gender reasons. If Ralsei is an outdated sona, then Kris at least used to present as a boy like the brother they wished to be more like, and the Card Kingdom simply wasn't there to witness Kris' transition. Or maybe those Darkners forgot the Lightners just like the Lightners forgot them, but... speaking of Dark Worlds...

...belonging. The storage closet is an ideal place for a Dark Fountain because anything could belong in a place like public storage.

And maybe that's why Ralsei was put there in the first place. Safekeeping.

Darkners in Castle Town are safe from the Player. We can harm Darkners and even Lightners in other worlds, but not this one. We're not given the option. That's how Ralsei's been kept safe all this time. Chapters 3&4 give us opportunities to hurt his feelings, which Kris will resist, but he can't be damaged or killed through Kris.

Maybe not just Ralsei either. Kris' side of the room, or at least the side they sleep on, is empty... and noticably desaturated like the door to Dess' room... and their locker is also empty. The locker could be due to their implied absence, but it could also be because they knew a Player would come (or come back) and they didn't want to give us access to anything of theirs that they wanted left untouched.

It's been speculated since Chapter 1, I've been coming back to the possibility that this isn't Kris' first time being under a Player's control. We don't know how we seized Kris' body or why, or if we're the first; even if we are, though, there's a chance Kris knew to expect us. And so they prepared accordingly while they still had bodily autonomy.

Might post another ramble after I finish my Chapter 3&4 replay, now that I have save files with Dealmaker, Jevilstail and the original Starwalker again.

[cod-dump]

The 141 looking at videos of younger price doing things they got in trouble for and got them yelled at by price

Keepsakes

___

"God, when was the last time he came here?"

"Long enough he doesn't want to bother cleaning this shit out himself," Ghost muttered as he shoves a facemask into Gaz's hands. The dust made it necessary.

Price finally made the decision to have his old storage unit cleaned out. He himself hadn't bothered to do anything yet, but he's convinced the boys to do some cleaning for him. He gave them a list of certain things he's looking for, then to their surprise Laswell did as well. Apparently it was a shared storage unit against Price’s will.

"There's the box Laswell told us to grab for her."

Most of the boxes were marked by young agent Laswell, a clear warning not to touch them to a Lieutenant Price.

As they stuffed certain boxes into the van they arrived in, Soap found an old jacket. Not worn in years, SAS embroidered on it with Price's name proud on the breast. Soap shook the thing violently, to relieve it of any unwanted bugs and dust, before put it on. Almost a perfect fit.

"Hm, think he'll notice?"

Gaz snorts as he dares to open one of the boxes, "You're him made over."

Soap grins despite the sarcasm and starts posing, earning laughter from Gaz. Ghost rolled his eyes at him while he sorted through the boxes. He finally stops next to a particular box, kicking it lightly, "Nik box."

Soap and Gaz immediately dart over. Nik was precious with his mementos. Safe guarded them like a dragon. None of them saw anything he didn't want them to see, not picture or saved bullet casing. Not a single story unless he gives it up. Laswell and Price weren't so closed off and will start up a story from asking.

"Oh- What do you think is in it?"

Ghost lightly kicks the box again before he confidently says- "Nudes."

Soap gags and Gaz cackles.

"The head of his enemies. Or their di-"

"Stop," Soap grumbles as he pulls the box to the side with some of Laswell's.

There was something precious about how close they were, Price getting a storage unit only for Laswell and Nik to shove their own things inside without care. They didn't have any doubt the only protest from Price was only a bit of grumbling before he just let it happen.

“I think Nik wouldn’t let anything… unsavory be left where we could find it. There’s no way he would forget the location of anything sensitive.”

“What if, and hear me out, he’s forgotten with old age?” Ghost countered seriously, Gaz cackling in response.

Soap opens the box without hesitating another second. Ghost and Gaz whipped their heads around to stare as Soap pulls out a large book. It was a photo album with a slip of paper labelling the front. In Russian of course, just like the writing labelling the box.

“Alright, who’s been paying attention in Nik’s sort and somewhat weird lessons in Russian?”

Ghost stares hard at the photo albums front, truly concentrating as hard as he could. Gaz stared for a few seconds, eyes flickering to Ghost a few times, like he was waiting for him to reply. He didn’t, so Gaz did.

“I think it’s along the lines of ‘my sweet John’.”

Soap gags dramatically, “God, is it actually nudes?”

Ghost hums, “It’s not like we haven’t seen them naked before.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to see anything else beyond basic locker room shit.”

They were delaying, even though all of them desperately did want to know what was inside. But none of them made a move, just staring at the photo album while also eying each other. After a third minute of rather uneasy silence, Ghost sighs loudly before he grabs the photo album.

“Well, might as well. What’s one more piece of trauma?”

He unties the string keeping it closed, taking a step back before taking a deep breath, bracing himself. Soap and Gaz stared at him, waiting. So Ghost flipped open the album.

“Oh.”

Soap and Gaz shared a look before looking back at him, “Oh?”

Ghost flips a page, then another, before looking up, “They’re candids. A lot of them.”

Soap and Gaz finally look, and he was right. Each page was several pictures of a young Price just existing. Some of him napping in odd places, stuffing his face with questionable looking food, arguing with a young Laswell — He was just existing. And his behavior displayed in the photos were familiar.

“Johnny, weren’t you napping under the table the other day?”

“Weren’t you stuffing your fast with the shit you found in the back of the fridge?”

Gaz takes over the photo album, fondly looking at the pictures. Several photos, if not all, were taken clearly without Price’s knowing.

“Good to know Nik hasn’t lost any love,” the countless times Gaz has caught the man taking pictures of Price without the man knowing. He really wanted to know what his photo gallery looked like.

Suddenly, Soap gasps. Gaz looks up and Soap is holding a video camera, grinning madly.

“Sex tapes.”

“Simon!”

Gaz eagerly reaches for the camera, “Let me see!”

He saw the box it came from, labelled by Laswell. It was safe to look through… maybe.

He messes with the camera, laughing gleefully when it still turns on. Ah, they don’t make them like they used to.

“This is history!”

“And blackmail,” it was clear why Ghost was here. He never would pass up an opportunity to hold something over someone’s head, even the people who could make him disappear.

Gaz selects a video and starts playing it, watching the tiny screen intently. He wasn’t expecting to witness a past event of Price arguing with a currently unknown SAS officer, one that appeared to out rank him. He was cussing the man out with his full chest, and Gaz couldn’t help but look up at Soap.

“… what is it? I hear yelling.”

“I think we took after Price more than he realizes.”

Soap and Ghost were on either of Gaz now, watching the tiny screen with their chins on Gaz’s shoulders. Gaz played another video.

This one started with the camera facing a grinning Laswell, none of them could recall ever seeing such a mischievous look on her before. The camera switches over to show Price sitting on top of a cabinet with a guitar in his arms. He was clearly waiting for someone to come through the door by the cabinet.

“Do you know how many times he’s bitched at me for climbing on furniture-“

“Shh!”

Price was grinning at the camera and Laswell, and then an infamous figure they’ve all heard of but saw few photos of walked through the door. Captain MacMillan left his mark on Price, but clearly Price also left a mark on the man. Upon entering the room, he turns to say something to Laswell, then Price aggressively started playing the guitar.

“JONATHAN YOU CUNT-“

Laswell cackles as MacMillan grabs Price’s leg, dragging him from the cabinet. The camera cuts off right as the cabinet comes down with Price, the shock on his face blurred on the screen as the video ends. Gaz covered his mouth and Ghost leaned away. Soap chose to break the silence.

“I think he would throw us into a lake with bricks tied to our feet if we showed him this.”

“Clearly we make copies.”

They knew he was trouble in his youth, but this? Oh this was hypocrisy. And Laswell was in on some of it? Oh this was blackmail for sure. Ghost got what he wanted.

“Copies, Kyle. We need copies-“

Yes, they all were in on this. This was worth it.

[wendyyyyyyyy]

OPERATION : Oblivious Idiots

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

⚠️ Content Warning : This chapter contains scenes of kidnapping, physical restraint, and emotional distress. Reader discretion is advised.

⸻

Part 6 : “The Search”

Chan's jaw was clenched so tight it ached. His fists were shaking at his sides through the tension, barely held together.

Why you?

Why now?

Why like this?

He hated the way it made him feel—like he wasn’t in control, like someone had stolen something that belonged to him. You were his responsibility. You were his. And they took you.

And worst of all, he couldn’t go to the company for help.

The “sex” that supposedly happened between the two of you was already dangerous enough. If the company found out, not only would chaos erupt—your image, your safety, his career, your career—all of it would be on the line. So no, involving the staff was out of the question.

They had to fix this on their own.

Chan quickly gathered the members and divided them into pairs.

“Spread out. Cover every inch of this place.”

Chan paired with Jeongin.

Minho with Jisung.

Hyunjin with Changbin.

Seungmin with Felix.

They searched everywhere.

The balconies.

The fire exits.

The stairwells, emergency rooms, even the basement access.

Parking lot. Rooftop. Janitor’s closets. Storage lockers. Vending machine areas.

Every hallway, every dark corner. They even questioned hotel staff under the radar.

But you weren’t anywhere.

And with each passing minute, the pit in everyone’s stomach grew heavier, darker.

Jisung kept muttering under his breath, trying not to cry.

Hyunjin’s hands were trembling.

Felix kept dialing your number. Over and over again. Each time it went straight to voicemail.

“Y/N, please… pick up,” he whispered. “Pick up just once…”

Chan felt like he was being suffocated.

He couldn’t even breathe without it hurting.

⸻

Meanwhile…

Your eyes fluttered open to pitch blackness.

You weren’t sure if you were dreaming—no, nightmaring—until the stiffness in your limbs brought you crashing into reality.

You couldn’t move.

You were tied up. Your wrists were bound tightly behind your back, ankles stiff and numb from the way they were roped together.

Your mouth was gagged with some kind of cloth, preventing any actual words from forming. Only muffled noises escaped your throat. You tried screaming, tried thrashing—

But it was no use.

The room was dark… but not completely. You could make out vague shapes.

Boxes.

Cleaning supplies.

Old decorations and disused hotel furniture.

A dim green glow from a small emergency exit sign barely lit the room from across the way.

You were in some kind of storage room. Somewhere deep. Somewhere isolated.

Your phone? Gone.

No windows.

No clock.

You had no way of knowing how much time had passed—or how much longer you’d have to stay there.

And that’s when the fear really settled in.

What if they didn’t find you?

What if this was more than just a scare?

What if—

No.

No, you couldn’t spiral.

They would find you. Chan would find you.

He had to.

You shifted again, wrists straining against the ties. Your body ached.

You were scared.

And helpless.

But you didn’t give up.

⸻

Back to the Search

It had been hours.

Everyone was slowing down, drained and pale from the weight of it all.

Hyunjin leaned against a wall. “If we don’t find her by sunrise, we have to tell the staff.”

“We can’t wait that long,” Chan muttered, pacing like a wild animal in a cage. “I don’t care what time it is.”

“She could be gone, hyung,” Jeongin said softly. “Like… not in the hotel anymore.”

Chan stopped walking.

His hands curled into fists.

His breathing was sharp, shallow.

Everyone else… sat down. Heads in hands. Silent. Heavy.

But not Chan.

He couldn’t.

He wouldn’t.

And then— His phone buzzed.

An anonymous number.

A single message.

“Room B27. One hour. Come alone. Tell no one. If you alert anyone, she gets hurt.”

His heart dropped into his stomach.

B27.

That wasn’t a guest room.

That was deep in the hotel’s unused west wing—an old employee section sealed off during renovations months ago.

He read the message again. Then again.

Chan knew he was being blackmailed, and he may be going directly into the trap. But what else choice did he have? Call him reckless or irrational but.. he was going to do it if that meant ensuring your safety.

And then he typed back.

“I’ll come alone. But if even a scratch is on Y/N, I swear to god—I will find you. I’ll dig you out from whatever hole you’re hiding in, tear down every wall if I have to, and make you pay ten times over. That’s a promise.”

His thumb hovered. Then he hit send.

And he meant every single word.

⸻

Part 7

[wileys-russo]

the summer tenant (1) II j.hermoso

its missing jenni hours, little mini series incoming the summer tenant (1) II j.hermoso

"sí sí sí i am forever in your debt león. happy?" you laughed, phone wedged between your ear and shoulder as you weighed your carry on, breathing a sigh of relief when it didn't breach the limit for your flight.

"i will be happy when you finally come home!" your best friend whined making you roll your eyes. "my ass is on its way maría, and tu culo better pick me up later!" you warned, muting her for a moment as you stepped up to the front desk and gave your details, boarding pass printed and handed over.

"no i am not thanking you, i was getting my boarding pass. my stuff is all accounted for sí? it arrived safely?" you frowned in worry, this entire process having been anything but smooth.

"sí amiga, just like i told you yesterday and every other day you've asked everything is in boxes ready to be unpacked once you move, and there is just a few things and files and boxes still in storage at your old place in the garage." mapi promised as you exhaled, hovering by the security check knowing you'd need to hang up before going through, promising mapi to call her the moment you landed before ending the call.

you'd grown up in zaragoza, a few houses down from the dirty blonde you'd been practically attached to like a siamese twin almost your whole life. as you got older you'd moved to madrid to go to university, and then to barcelona for better career opportunities once you graduated.

though for the last three years you'd been living in portugal, a dream job when it arose far too tempting to pass as much as it hurt you to move away from your life, friends and family all still scattered around spain.

you of course returned home to visit but once you'd fallen in love the visits had been few and far between, your life becoming split in two as you had anchors tying you down in either country, admittedly maybe allowing the one in portugal a little too much influence.

which is why it hurt so much when that anchor was suddenly cut loose, almost drowning you in the aftermath of what you'd describe as your first real heartbreak.

so licking your wounds you found yourself with a choice, to stay and soldier through the tattered remains of your life in portugal or retreat back to spain with your tail between your legs and into the arms of the rest of your support circle.

the choice was one you probably made a little too fast once your best friend sweet talked the right people and popped up on her weekend off with a job offer and a plan, more than ready to drag you back home.

it hadn't been the easiest of processes, you'd given your two weeks in at your job which turned into four and then into six so you could adequately train your replacement and smoothly handover your client list.

right after the breakup mapi had convinced you to let her rent out your old place in barcelona for some extra income while you weren't sure how long you'd still be in portugal, your now ex quite the well respected lawyer meant you'd come off with much less than you deserved in assets after the split.

you were crashing with a coworker and slowly shipping your belongings home to meet you whenever you could finally leave all this mess behind you.

though really your old place was too large for just you and though you were returning home you wanted a fresh start which meant a new place, mapi offering for you to stay with her while you searched for the right one.

between her and her girlfriend they technically had an apartment each in the same building, though they spent majority of their time in ingrids which was set up best, mapi's used more as a storage locker which is why she was more than happy to let you stay there temporarily.

and with all sorts of tourists flocking to the warm beaches of barcelona for the summer it made sense that you wring out a little extra money from your old place before putting it on the market.

so now finally free from all that tied you to portugal bar a few friendships you suspected may eventually die out with the distance, and almost all of your belongings safely back in spain, it was time for you to join them.

"estás bromeando." you snickered in disbelief as you exited the terminal, spotting the sign and balloons right away and praying they weren't for you. but of course knowing your family, no such luck.

"i am suddenly wishing i lied about which flight i took." you called out with a shake of your head, a cheeky grin and a blur of tattoos and tan skin darting in front of you before a body was slamming you nearly to the ground.

"hola amiga." you exhaled happily, squeezing the footballer just as tightly as you gave her girlfriend a wave who was hanging back with a smile. "mejor amiga." mapi corrected, pulling away and sloppily kissing your cheek making you grimace and push her away.

"you drove all the way here to pick me up? i told you i could come see you on the weekend!" you laughed at your parents, knowing it was almost a four hour journey from your childhood home where they still lived to the airport they were stood in now.

"it has been many years we have prayed for this day hija, let us enjoy it." your mami smiled warmly as you hugged them both next, exhaling happily at the rapid spanish which floated around the air.

you greeted ingrid next, having met the girl many times despite no longer living here, often teasing your best friend that should they break up you'd actually take ingrids side since she was so lovely, but really you adored seeing her so loved up and well treated by the norweigan.

"welcome home from prison? maría!" you groaned, the defender hiding behind her girlfriend making both yours and ingrids eyes roll. "it was his idea!" her finger reached around and pointed to your papi who shrugged with a smile that said it all.

~

"and you told her i was coming to grab some things?" you clarified with mapi who hummed in confirmation. the footballer had been doing the majority of the communication with your tenant in your old place considering until now you'd been in another country and she had set the whole thing up anyway.

you'd tried to offer her some money for all of her help which all that earned you was a firm punch to the arm and a warning not to be stupid, reminding you that family always helps family and doesn't expect anything in return.

"sí sí she said she wouldn't be home anyway, and you are only needing to access the garage so you will not be entering the house." mapi assured as you nodded, telling her to text you what she wanted you to grab from the market on your way back before ending the call.

stupidly mislabeling a few boxes had meant you were missing a large amount of clothing, and though both ingrid and mapi assured you were free to wear anything of theirs you already felt like you were asking too much of them staying with them anyway.

besides a lot of your more work appropriate clothes were what was missing and due to start this new role in a few days time and anything but a patient woman you were quite eager to get your ducks in a line.

"oh come on!" you grunted, having twisted the key in the garage door but struggling to pull it open, something that had pained you for years. a waterfall of curse words fell from your lips as your frustration grew and you strained to tug it open, hope fasting fading.

"you know robbers do not usually make so much noise?" you jumped at a voice behind you, dropping the door and spinning around with a startled expression.

"lo siento. i am not a robber, i am-" you tried to explain but the taller girl waved off your words. "the owner, sí? i spoke to mapi this morning." she smiled charmingly, pearly white teeth bared in amusement.

"i am jenni, your tenant." she added on with a grin holding out a heavily tattooed hand as you nodded in understanding and properly introduced yourself. "trouble with the door? there is a trick." she held up a finger and nodding for you to move aside.

you frowned curiously but did as she asked, watching as she twisted the key and popped her shoulder into the door, your eyebrows shooting up nearly as fast as the door was opened. "fácil!" she winked and gestured inside.

"i lived here for nearly five years and-" you mumbled with an annoyed huff. "-and i live here for a few weeks and know all the tricks." jenni laughed, hovering just outside as you squatted down and began to move through boxes.

"something like that." you sent her a smile over your shoulder. "i promise i will get everything out soon, my car is still in portugal and its the last thing to come back and-" you stopped yourself realizing a complete stranger would be the last person to care.

"and i do not need to be wasting more of your time, lo siento." you shook your head, finding the box you needed and tugging it up and out. "no need to apologise. you are from barcelona?" jenni asked curiously as you shook your head.

"zaragoza, but i have been living in portugal for the last few years." you answered with a polite smile. "mm then how did you end up with a house in barcelona?" jenni questioned, lips curled upward and eyes scanning you up and down.

"my mami taught me not to talk to strangers." you teased making her laugh. "so did mine but here i am letting one into my garage." jenni pointed out as you now laughed. "my garage, technically." you shrugged, noticing a large motorcycle in the corner of the garage.

"pulling the landlord card querida? vale vale. well i have paperwork we both signed though that says for another four and a half months it is my garage." jenni reminded with a grin to which you couldn't argue.

"do you ride?" you asked nodding curiously toward the bike. "what happened to not talking to strangers? i cannot ask how you ended up in barcelona but you can ask me about my bike?" jenni gasped mockingly as you rolled your eyes.

"well you just answered my question anyway." you smiled picking up the box of clothes and moving back outside as jenni effortlessly reached up and grabbed the roller door to bring it back down, something you needed a ladder for which was oddly attractive.

jenni herself was quite attractive, the way her bright eyes followed you and rose pink links curved into an alluring smile, not to mention each of her long limbs covered in even more tattoos than mapi as she was wearing only a pair of shorts and a plain white oversized shirt.

you opened your mouth to speak but were cut off by a second stranger who came storming out of the house, flipping the girl in front of you off and practically diving into a car speeding away making you frown as the other girl in front of you rolled her eyes.

"friend of yours?" you asked with a raised eyebrow as jenni shrugged. "something like that. would you like to come in for a drink?" the abruptness of her question catching you off guard as you opened and closed your mouth.

"i don't think-" you started, placing down the box as jenni cut you off. "you know if you have a drink with me, i will not be a stranger anymore. didn't your mami also teach you about manners and hospitality?" jenni challenged making you scoff but smile.

"my plans for the evening just ditched me, i already started dinner. it is rude to make someone eat and drink alone you know!" jenni tutted, stepping forward and picking up the box for you before you could protest.

"vamos, i promise i am a good cook and an even better host."

~

and as you woke up that next morning in a bedroom both familiar and unfamiliar, you knew her words to be true.

you could smell coffee as you rubbed your eyes and sat up, you heard the door open and tugged the covers up to hide your naked chest, jenni strolling in with a steaming mug.

"how did you know?" you smiled, always starting your day with coffee as the taller girl gave you an add look. "how did i know i wanted coffee?" she chuckled taking a sip as your cheeks flushed with embarrassment at your assumption.

"what time is it?" you asked with a stretch, bending down and snaking your shirt from the floor, slipping it over your head. "eleven, you really slept in." jenni hummed, leaning against the doorframe as bright green eyes drunk you in.

"sorry." you chuckled, completely missing the slightly awkward silence in the air as jenni stepped forward. "your box of stuff is by the door, get dressed and you should go." the girl shrugged, turning on heel and heading out of the room as your mouth opened in shock.

none the less you hurried to collect your clothes, pulling them on and following after her.

"you know landlords should not really sleep with tenants." jenni tutted with a smirk, pulling herself up and onto the counter as you forced your eyes not to roam her half naked body, flashes of last night where it was pressed against you flickering through your mind.

you scoffed and crossed your arms, opening your mouth to let her have it but she spoke first. "whats wrong bebé? not the normal coffee and breakfast waiting for you afterwards that you are used to? i am not that type of girl." jenni chuckled sipping from her mug.

"but last night we talked about so many things and-" "had sex? sí, and we both got something out of that no? now you should really go, technically a landlord cannot be here without the tenants permission." jenni smirked as you could only scoff.

not gracing her with another word you turned on heel and headed for the front door, hearing her footsteps pad after you as you made a swift exit. you paused as you heard a sharp whistle, slowly turning around.

"did you just whistle at me like a dog?" you asked in disbelief crossing your arms and making her chuckle where she leaned against the door. "you forgot your box." she nodded downward at her feet as you stiffened, swallowing your pride and making your way back toward her.

you glared at her as she simply smiled charmingly, sipping at her coffee as you picked up the box and turned again, storming down the path.

though a second wind brewing as you reached the end you shook your head, spinning to give her a piece of your mind but it was too late, the front door already clicking closed as you heard the turn of the lock.

"puta."

[secretstime]

[revelboo]

Poor D-16 is gonna be asking the "Minicon" do many questions and the human is gonna just look at him like "Sir this is a Wendys"

He’ll figure out they’re not a minicon way before that comes up. They’re going to run out of air in their tank and have to remove the helmet sooner or later 🤣

Fight For You Pt 3

D 16 x Reader

• Staring up at him as he gestures excitedly and growl-rumbles in his awful, grating language at you, you’re pretty sure he’s more excited about seeing your teammate than you are. Pointing at the image and then waving the other hand as he yammers. And okay, maybe his energy is a tiny bit cute now that you’re relatively sure he’s not going to harm you. Hopefully. And he grins down at you before reaching to retrieve a glowing cube bigger than your head and offering it pinched between his servos. When you don’t move to take it, he sets it down and nudges it your way while growling gibberish at you. Well. It’s pretty? At a loss, you watch him grab another and pop it in his mouth. Oh. Alien food that will do who knows what to you. Nope.

• Watching him eating, your head tips back toward your cube and to his puzzlement, you push it back his way, chirping at him. Maybe it’s too big for you? Awkwardly pinching a piece off the energon goodie, he holds it out and you back away, head shaking and chirping. “I guess you’re used to premium energon, huh?” Venting, he leaves the cube where he’d put it even though he’s hungry, hoping you’ll relent and refuel. Because if you will only take premium, he’s in trouble. Has no way to get the better grades of energon short of stealing. And you point at the screen again, chirping nonsense. Wishes he could understand you. “I bet Megatronus was amazing. Can’t believe I found his mini-con.” Or that he can’t talk to you, because you must have some amazing stories. Someone who’s been there with the Primes.

• Relaxing when it becomes apparent he’s not going to try and force feed you the glowing, possibly radioactive stuff, you lift up the console attached to your arm. Check your oxygen levels again. And pray there’s air you can breathe, because your tank was never meant for extended use. They’d said 72 hours worth, which had seemed ludicrous at the time for a recon mission that was only supposed to be long enough to take a soil sample and book it back through. And you’re not taking the helmet off until you have no choice in case there isn’t air. Because one way or the other, you’re going to find out the hard way and you want to delay until you have no choice.

• Head snapping up as the dorm lights begin automatically coming on, he snags you and carries you to his storage locker. “I have to report to the mines, but some of the other bots will turn you in if they see you,” he says when you squirm in his hand, chirping in alarm when he places you inside. Like the darkness frightens you. Had your previous owner kept you not only bound, but in the dark? Fury coils through him as he tries to calm you. “It’s just for a bit, okay? You’ll be safe here, but you have to stay quiet.” Pressing a servo to his lips, he startles when you shakily mimic him with an unhappy chirp. “Good. That’s right.” Retrieving your uneaten energon goodie, he puts it in with you and secures the locker. And feels guilty about it, but Red Alert would turn you in on sight.

• Heart racing, your head tips up. There are slots high above you that let in some light, but otherwise you’re in the dark. Aside for the brightly glowing, probably poisonous thing he’d tried to feed you. Shivering you sit down to wait, tensing when you hear thumps, voices and noises from outside your hiding place. How many of them are there? He’d hid you. Which makes you think some of those others are a threat to you. You hold your breath until the noises dies down and flip up your console display again. Watching the oxygen level steadily tick down.

Previous

Next

[alittlegiraffe]

i need a sad chapter of marshall and reader

You didn't expect this I'm sure of it.

Title: “For When He Misses Me”

It started with the diagnosis. Stage four. Fast-moving. Inoperable. The kind of words that change everything in a single breath.

You didn’t cry—not in front of them. Not in front of Marshall, not in front of Hailie. You smiled through it. You let your hands shake in the bathroom sink. You kissed Marshall’s tired eyes when he couldn’t sleep. You braided Hailie’s hair like it wasn’t the last time.

But privately, somewhere between denial and devotion, you started planning for what came after.

That’s how the storage unit started.

You pulled the door open with a soft creak, Hailie’s small hand tucked into yours. She was grown now, in so many ways—too grown. But her eyes still found yours like they did when she was five and scraped her knee, needing comfort.

“You ready, bug?” you asked quietly.

Hailie nodded, tears already in her lashes.

Inside was a carefully constructed time capsule of your love for him. Dozens of boxes, perfectly labeled. Wrapped gifts, ribboned in soft colors and twine. Notes tucked in delicate envelopes. Everything you couldn’t say out loud, you sealed inside these boxes.

She looked around in awe, her eyes wide as they caught the neat labels:

"For his first birthday without me."

"For when he’s missing me and pretending he’s not."

"For our anniversary – don’t let him skip it."

"For the first album after I’m gone – tell him I always believed in him."

You crouched beside her, pulling out one of the smaller boxes. It had a blue satin bow, your handwriting delicate on the tag: "For when he can’t sleep."

Inside was a worn hoodie of his that you used to steal, stitched with a tiny heart you embroidered near the cuff. A lavender sachet. A flash drive of voice memos—your voice telling him stories, singing off-key, whispering goodnight.

“He won’t open them all at once, right?” you whispered.

Hailie shook her head, wiping at her eyes. “I won’t let him. I’ll give them to him when he’s ready. When he needs them.”

You smiled through your own tears. “He’s gonna be mad.”

“He’ll survive.”

“He’s always been bad at grief. You remember that.”

She gave a broken little laugh. “Yeah, but he’s worse at pretending he doesn’t care. He’ll break. But he’ll still write. He always writes.”

You nodded. “Good. I want him to put it all in the music. Every bit of it.”

You reached for a small black box, the one labeled: "For when he thinks he failed me."

Inside was a letter, just one page.

Marshall,

You didn’t fail me. You gave me more love than I knew what to do with. You made me feel safe in a world that rarely is. You were my home. Please don’t let the end of this be the end of everything.

Keep going. Keep breathing. Keep being you.

I’ll always be proud of you.

—Your Girl

You didn’t have much time left. The doctors had said as much. But here, in this quiet storage locker, you’d built something to outlast it all. A map through grief. A love letter in pieces. You gave your girl the key, the instructions, the weight.

And when the time came, you knew she’d carry it.

A Few Months Later...

Hailie found him in the studio, staring blankly at a beat on loop. He hadn’t written in days.

She sat beside him and placed the first box on the table.

He stared at it, his jaw clenching. “What’s this?”

“She said to start with this one,” Hailie murmured.

He didn’t say a word. Just peeled the tape slowly, like his hands were too heavy to move fast.

Inside: a silver chain with her wedding ring threaded through it. A note tucked beneath it that just said:

"For when you don’t know what to do with your hands."

His shoulders shook. He didn’t cry, not yet. But she saw it—the way his knuckles whitened as he held the chain, how he pressed the ring to his lips like maybe he could breathe her in.

He wore it that night. And he didn’t take it off again.

Over the years, more boxes came.

On the anniversary, a photo album of their quietest moments.

On his first solo tour without her, a hand-written letter: "You’re still never alone."

On Hailie’s wedding day, a box labeled: "For the day our baby girl is no longer just ours."

Each one cracked him open. Each one saved him.

And maybe she was gone. But she stayed with them—stitched into the fabric of everything.

Not just in what she left behind.

But in who she left behind to carry it.

Two months later

His birthday.

Marshall wasn’t celebrating.

He hadn’t celebrated a damn thing since she left. The house was too quiet. The studio too still. His hands were empty unless they were shaking.

But Hailie showed up anyway, carrying a wrapped box the same size as a shoebox, labeled in your looping handwriting:

“For his birthday. Give him this one in the morning, while he’s still pretending he doesn’t care.”

“You gonna open it?” Hailie asked gently, setting it down on the kitchen table beside the untouched coffee.

Marshall stared at the box like it might explode. “I don’t need—”

“She wanted you to.”

He didn’t argue. Just exhaled through his nose and slowly peeled back the paper.

Inside, folded in layers of tissue, was a black hoodie she had designed herself—his favorite kind. On the front, stitched in neat white thread, it read:

“My girl loves me.”

Not loved.

Loves.

He laughed through his nose, the sound so tight and bitter it nearly choked him.

There was a note inside the pocket.

You always hate this day, but I never did. You were born, and the world got better. I’m still here, Marsh. Still loving you. Still proud of you. Still yours.

Now go write something today. I know you haven’t in a while. Do it for me.

He wore the hoodie for the rest of the day. Didn't even change for the studio. That night, a pen finally moved in his hand again.

Three months later

Anniversary.

He almost skipped it.

It was too heavy, too quiet, too full of the way your absence sat in every corner of the house.

But then Hailie texted: “Storage. You know the drill.”

He went alone. Parked. Keyed in the code with shaking fingers.

It was the first time he’d walked into the locker by himself.

The box was already out, set on top of a blanket chest. A cream-colored card on top:

“For our anniversary. I know you forgot to get me anything. That’s okay. I got you something.”

He smirked despite himself. “Smartass.”

Inside: a photo album. Not of red carpets or paparazzi flashes. Just them.

Sunday mornings. Grocery lists in your handwriting. Selfies with toothpaste on your nose. Scribbled doodles from tour nights in hotel rooms.

Tucked into the last page was a polaroid—one he’d forgotten completely. You were asleep on his chest in the studio, headphones askew, his hand resting on your back like a shield. The note beside it read:

You were always home.

He sank to the floor in the middle of the storage unit and stayed there for hours.

Six months later

The first album after.

It had taken nearly a year since she passed to even try. The first few attempts were angry. Then they were hollow. But eventually the beats started sounding like him again. And the words—God, the words burned. All of them were about her. Every. Last. One.

The day it went live, Hailie didn’t say anything. She just dropped the next box on the studio couch.

“For the first album after I’m gone.”

It was heavier than the others. Wrapped in dark blue paper with no bow. Just her handwriting again, steady and sure.

Inside was a leather journal.

The first few pages were filled with quotes she loved. Lyrics of his she’d written in her favorite pen. Then, toward the back—your final letter:

You did it.

You survived this.

I knew you would.

And I know it still hurts, Marsh. I know there are days where the only thing keeping you going is spite, or guilt, or Hailie.

But you’re still here.

And you’re still writing.

And you’re still mine.

Keep making music. Keep telling the truth. Don’t let grief be the only thing you carry. Carry me, too. In the rhythm. In the rhymes. In the parts of yourself you forgot you could still love.

You never had to do this without me. You just had to do it with me a different way.

I’ll meet you in the lyrics.

—Your girl

He locked himself in the booth that night. Wrote until the sun came up.

And when Hailie checked on him the next day, he didn’t say much.

Just handed her the journal.

“I need another box,” he said, voice hoarse.

Hailie blinked. “There’s one left. From what I found.”

He nodded. “Yeah. That’s not what I meant.”

He pulled a clean black notebook off the shelf and tossed it on the desk.

“I wanna start one. For her.”

---

The first time he went to your grave, he didn’t tell anyone.

He thought he could do it alone.

The morning was gray, Michigan-sky kind of cold. The grass around the headstone was damp from last night’s rain, and Marshall’s boots sank into it without a sound.

He stood there with his hands in the pockets of the hoodie you gave him—“My girl loves me” stitched across his chest—trying to breathe through a pressure that hadn’t left him since the day he watched them lower you into the ground.

He didn’t bring flowers. Didn’t know what the hell he was supposed to say. Didn’t even know why he was finally here.

He just knew it was time.

Behind him, Hailie’s car pulled up quietly.

He didn’t turn.

“I figured this was where you’d be,” she said gently, her arms wrapped around a small box. Different than the others. This one was white, tied in a soft gold ribbon.

She held it out to him, like it weighed nothing.

But his hands shook when he took it.

Because they both knew this one wasn’t like the others.

This one was final.

The tag read:

“For the first time he visits me.”

Marshall sat down in the grass.

He ran a hand over the headstone first. Just your name. No dates. No titles. Just you. It was all you ever wanted—don’t make me a tragedy, Marsh. Just remember me the way I was.

He swallowed and opened the box.

There was no letter this time.

Just a single key.

It was old, brass, and attached to a tiny silver tag that said:

“Unit 92 — for the rest of forever.”

He stared at it.

“…What is this?” he asked, his voice rasping.

Hailie crouched beside him. Her voice cracked when she answered.

“She rented another one. Bigger. This one… it’s not just for you.”

His breath caught. “What?”

“She started it after she got sick. Filled it with stuff for your future. For me. For... grandkids. Holidays. Milestones. All of it. Decades of love. She planned it all, dad.”

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“She made me promise I wouldn’t show you until you came here. Until you were ready.”

He gripped the key in his palm like it might slip through his fingers, his knuckles going white. His chest shuddered.

Then, finally, it happened.

Not a single tear.

All of them.

The kind of breaking that comes from finally letting go. Not of her—but of the grip grief had around his throat. The weight that had been suffocating every inch of him. The anger, the guilt, the ache—splintered apart as he sobbed into the earth above where you rested.

He folded over his knees, face pressed to his forearms, and let it all out.

Hailie held him.

Not as a daughter comforting a father.

But as someone who loved her just as much.

They visited Unit 92 together that night.

The metal door rolled up with a groan, revealing a room full of boxes, just like before—but this time the labels read things like:

"For Hailie’s first baby."

"For Marshall, when he wins another Grammy and pretends he doesn't care."

"For when he starts forgetting how it felt to hold my hand."

"For the grandkids – tell them all the stories."

"For the day he says 'I'm okay' and finally means it."

"For the day he falls in love again — tell him it’s okay. I want that for him."

That one broke him all over again.

He sank to the concrete floor with the box in his lap, and for the first time in over a year, he smiled through the tears.

Because she wasn’t gone.

She was here. In every ribbon. Every box. Every quiet memory she built to outlive her body.

And for the first time, he felt her again.

Not like a ghost.

But like a heartbeat, steady and true, right there in his chest.

A few years later...

His granddaughter opened a box on her 10th birthday. Inside was a plush bear that said "My Girl" when you squeezed it.

There was a note tucked into its arms.

I wish I could've met you.

[pennycat83]

Take Me Home

Curly (post crash) x reader

This got 1,103 on AO3 so I decided to share it here as well. I'mma also warn for described graphic imagery and the usual Mouthwashing suffering

5 months, almost 26 days since your last job. Your legs slumped limp against the control panel, arms folded lazily against your stomach as you dozed. Your ship was far from desirable, nothing more than a scrap ship you used to get what little change you could gather from abandoned ships. Old habits died hard, you joked. 

That being said it wasn't anything to sneeze at. Despite only really holding one person most of the time, it still had a quaint medical bay, storage unit, washing facilities and two sleeping quarters. You often forgot you even had a home on Earth with how cosy the place felt. 

You jolted at an abrupt sonar ping. Another ship, you grunted, straining your arms behind your back, you set the auto pilot to maneuver closer. Heading to a beaten up locker in the back for something other than a tank top and shorts. You let the jumpsuit hang around your waist, tightening your bootlaces before zipping it up. Rummaging around further, you retrieved a well beaten axe from the back, tucked haphazardly between a few boxes, you slipped the holstered axe around your belt loop.

A Pony Express Ship, it looked like hell. Foam coated most of the exterior, making it had to identify the original entrance. You grumbled something regarding how incompetent the crew must've been.  Making your way to the ship was enough of a challenge for such a simple 'job', hacking into a bit of the foam in an attempt to weasel in, you knew too much would mean the goods would spill out. Your breath hitched, carefully sinking your axe bit by bit until you made a decently sized hole. Finally, you tumbled into what was most likely the storage unit. 

The ship groaned as you tucked your axe back into its holster, whipping out a flashlight to inspect the hull. Walls of boxes surrounded the modest space, what little lights that remained flickered above, you continued on. Moving through the endless rows until you reached the steps to the exit, you noted a few of the boxes had been ripped open, bottles of mouthwash littered the floor, dribbles of the remains sticking to your boot heels.

"What the fuck?". You scoffed before exiting, the  doors were open. That was enough an indicator that something wasn't right, moving through the rest of the rooms confirmed your suspicion. The hallways bathed in a harsh red, foam tripped you up at points, beloved items were scattered haphazardly, until you finally entered the main area. 

Jesus Christ, you froze. A large T.V. system flickered the same piercing error message as darkened patches of...you sighed shakily. Looking over to the table, a party. "Shit-fuck-s-sorry to intrude! I...I just-I'll...". You faltered, noticing the violent lack of a reaction. Your legs hesitated forward, moving one of the bodies closest to you. It slumped forward, slamming hard against the plate. You had to stifle a scream as you watched the neck loosen slightly. You looked around the table, almost all of the bodies were in some different state of decay, the one across you drenched in blood, her hair matted hair almost withering off her head. You almost choked on your own shaking urge not to freak out. 

Quivering, your legs shuffled away from the party. Moving onward, you found yourself hugging the axe slightly. Unfurling only when you entered the medic bay. You noted a now bloodied gurney resting against one of the false windows. The crimson lighting only intensifying the horrifying feel ."Least this'll be one of the more interesting stories". Your voice wobbled as you tried to twist this into some kind of joke. You remembered why you came here, moving around the space to grab anything of worth. You hesitated on the computer but decided on most of the medical supplies. 

You nodded at your new pile of bounty, finishing up your rounds by finally entering the engineering room. The darkened hallways tightened your nerves  Another body, this one slumped against a few rows of pods, a gun nearby. You kicked the body with the tip of your boot, almost expecting it to lurch like a slasher and attack... Nothing. You moved around once again. Finally contempt you..

You paused, someone was here. Your head whipped instinctively towards the row of cryogenics, a piercing blue eye watched, unblinking. Finally, you let out a heart dropping scream in shock, dropping a tool kit in a jump against the wall. The eye remained fixed on you, you moved forward carefully. You noticed that it almost looked like a corpse, bandages covering most of the face. You looked around hesitantly, scuttling back to the toolkit before making your leave. You dropped it by the pile, you cursed yourself out slightly as you had to whittle down your carrying size for the passageway back. Sighing as you looked around once again, someone must've gone mad, you pondered if the person in cryostatus wasn't the culprit but, given the body next to it, you almost questioned if it wasn't him. 

You let out a weak chuckle at the idea as you pushed another  pile of loot into your own ship. Turning to finish up, you hesitated. Looking towards the flickering lights. You were stupid, so fucking stupid for this. Once again hacking into the foam to make the exit big enough, and making sure your own medic bay  was loaded with all the things you had grabbed, you stormed back towards the cryogenics. Moving the slumped body against one side of the wall, you consulted the pod. You fiddled with a pin pad aside it, frowning at the absurdity of the idea before finally giving up and cracking out your axe on the poor thing.  The door slid open in a hiss of dry ice. The man slumped forward, drooping slightly as you slid over to grab him, struggling with the abrupt weight as you finally noticed the state of the body. 

Burnt, bloodied flesh stained your jumpsuit, you noticed the body was essentially a torso. One leg shorter than the other, you let out a shuddered gasp as you stumbled for support. Finally, your leg gave up, letting you and the body drop against the wall with a thud, what remained of his legs getting caught between yours slightly . "Ah! I am s-so fuckin' sorry sir!", nothing. You got back up shakily, moving the person around awkwardly until he was resting in your arms, part of his chest resting against yours. 

You had no idea where to begin, leaving the ship had been a pain in it of itself but you barely remembered CPR procedures, let alone any actual medical practices. For now you carefully redressed the body as you could and waited, making sure not to jostle it too much and slid a pillow under his head. He twitched slightly, you ignored it. Going about your organization of the items. You felt shitty pocketing someone's Gameboy, but you at least hoped the owner would've been proud it got to be enjoyed again...maybe. You had also decided to grab some of the mouthwash as a joke, putting it in your bathroom alongside one of the first aid kits. Some cute Pony Express safety posters now also blessed your sleeping pod and main work space.

You smiled, moving through the rest of the haul, until a series of weak croaks and groans made you jump, whipping to return to first aid over the finally awake body. "S-sorry 'bout that bud!", you turned to consult him. Turning around to fumble with the first aid kit as he began to writhe, "alright alright cool it!". You hesitantly let a few pain killers slip into your hand as you attempted to drop them in, his mouth remained shut. Your fingers padded delicately against his jaw. "What's wrong?".

He stayed silent, you sighed, putting the pills on the side of the bed, you made your way to the sink. You were honestly amazed you hadn't considered this before, then again you were the kind of madman to dry swallow anything that was smaller than a penny before. You placed the cup to one side and put the pills near it. Turning to watch your patient, he seemed somewhat antsy over the meds. "Look I'd rather bring a living person back if that's ok so...". He remained tense, jerking his head around as you tried to hold it. "So you don't like it when I touch ya...".

You lent down to meet his eye, your gaze softening. "I promise to be gentle 'kay? Just...". You faltered, you didn't know how to approach this. He watched in paranoid silence. "I'll be careful ok, if I hurt you I won't prod any further". He stayed silent, a feverish wheeze punctuating the silence. Finally, his mouth cracked open slightly, your fingers carefully sliding the pills far back down his throat, a trickle of  water washed them down more as you lifted his head slightly. Finally he relaxed, you let him rest back on the pillow as you sat back, "y'good now?" he choked out an affirmation. 

You sighed, you knew what this meant, instant u turn to Earth, you let him be as you went back to alter your course. An automated voice confirmed your command as you went back to the medical bay. The man continued to stare at the wall, watching your own T.V windows in a daze. You lent against the wall, letting your arms fold over themselves. You watched silently, he didn't seem to be in any additional pain aside from the burns. You couldn't help but feel slight guilt over his  bloodied gown, not wanting to remove for fear of hurting him. You faked a cough to get his attention. His bloodshot eye turned to watch you, slightly panicked, as you made your way to the chair once again.

  "Set a course t' take us back to Earth...this is way too outta my hands for me to do anything. If you need anything though I won't be too busy". The unblinking eye burrowed into your lazy gaze as you stifled another cough. "I'll let you be then-". The stub of his arm had moved towards your resting elbow. It flinched away on instinct before hesitantly moving back. Carefully, you let it rest against the stub. "Guess it's been a while huh? S-speaking to anyone I mean". He let out a groaned sigh (you assumed at least) of longing. You nodded solemnly, "Y'want me to sleep here for the night then?". You left before he could answer, grabbing a sleeping bag from within your wardrobe and  returned, cosying it against the medical bed. 

The soft glow of the artificial moon now seeped into the room as you went through your nightly tasks, sorting anything else you had forgotten. You let your jumpsuit soak in the washroom as you cleaned up, returning to the medical bay just as you watched the torso flop onto your sleeping bag. You trotted over and helped him back up carefully, holding him once again in your arms, "you good?!". He squirmed in your arms, hugging your chest whilst his head burrowed into your neck, almost avoiding eye contact with the bed. 

"Damn bud w-what...". You sighed weakly. Moving him back onto the bed as you grabbed your sleeping bag to form a makeshift blanket over you. Pulling the chair close enough, you struggled to hop over the man so you were facing the window. You couldn't help but sleepily close your eyes. The man shuddered again, you turned to face his back, letting your hand rest delicately against it. He winced, your hand retracted just as quick. Struggling to pull your head against the pillow properly, you found yourself rambling. "Y'know...I kinda like the beds here better than the ones in the sleeping bay". You chuckled slightly as you continued, "way nicer". 

Your eyes shifted to watch the breathing of the man. His movements ragged and visceral, you hesitated. Resting a hand against the fabric of his gown. He jolted, a sharp dry shriek of pain, your hand retracted. "S-sorry! S...so it...hurts less with the painkillers?". A faint grunt that confirmed your question. You nodded, turning once again as to not stress him. A faint comment seemed to grab your attention, 's...stars...'. You hummed in agreement, you didn't remember why you felt the urge to douse the medical bay in glow in the dark stickers, but you supposed it made you feel more comfortable. "I like 'em". Your voice was softer, almost light as you began to slip deeper into a sleepy lull. 

You shuffled slightly in your sleep, pressing up against the wall as the figure turned. Your eye slid open, meeting the glistening bloodshot view of him. You flinched, a mirrored response as you let out a breathy chuckle, "asshole". You laid on your back, watching the false stars shine softly overhead. "Gotta be hard to sleep though...". Your arms folded under your head, propping it up tightly as to not touch the flesh beside you. "I got a sleep mask if that helps...". He continued watching, an unreadable gaze that irked you slightly. "Can I...I know this sounds stupid, but...". You got up. 

Dragging the sleeping bag along, you flicked the nearby table lamp on. Looming over the now frozen form of your pseudo patient, he immediately began to writhe, bucking in fear as he watched your hands. You paused, relaxing your shoulders, you rested your hand onto his jaw, your cold fingers ghosting over his burned cheek. You could've sworn his cheek weighted slightly into the curve of your palm for a bit. Carefully, you re adjusted the pillow under the his head, before cautiously scooping him back into your arms.

Carefully, so carefully, you zipped him just enough into the sleeping bag. The thick padding seeming to muffle most of your contact with him. You couldn't help but let out a proud scoff, moving back to the window as you watched him wriggle slightly. "Feelin' better?". No comment, you smiled softly. "Y'know, I never managed to get your name". It took a bit before you got an answer, albeit punctuated by infrequent wheezes. "Curly...kinda ironic now huh". Another unamused grunt retorted your quip.  You slipped closer, your chest  resting against him tenderly. You lay there for a bit once again, the cold groaning of your own ship echoing slightly as you lay. Some stupid part of your brain finally kicked in when you embraced him, wrapping your arms around his chest. He writhed under your embrace. Attempting to free himself, his back spasmed and a series of frantic wheezings escaped his weak jaw. You hushed him slightly, nuzzling your head into his padded chest. "It's ok...you're ok...". You continued to soothe him softly.  He froze, sighed pathetically after a while, the fatigue finally sinking in for him, resting his chin softly against your neck. Your grip remained soft, gently reassuring him he was safe.

He was going home.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

2 months 29 days before reaching Earth. 

You frowned from your calculator to your pile of perceived valuables. Just under $90 in estimated value. Sighing, you put the calculator back to one side and slumped forward, cradling your head between your hands. You were already struggling with keeping Curly alive long enough before you reached Earth. Your own quantity of painkillers now dwindling. His state and breathing getting more ragged and feeble.

Some morbid part of you considered killing him in a twisted form of sympathy. I mean, you were almost always alone in space, you hadn't alerted that many people to your plight aside from a friend's lawyer for a legal chew out on what remained of Pony Express, and an awaiting hospital. Your hands physically coiled at the very concept. You'd done this on a whim, letting out a quivering huff, you returned to your own miniature dining area.

The table was one you had managed to save from wood rot, and it was sure as hell obvious. Some of the new legs looked to be from different makes, despite a fresh coat of wood dye. Curly sat on one side, you felt bad just letting him wither in bed all day, allowing him to move from space to space kept him somewhat upbeat. Even letting him sit next to you on your usual naps in the cockpit.

He seemed to be as frail as you felt, still wheezing pathetically, staring ahead whilst his mouth silently gasped. You moved over, his body shook ever so slightly, but relaxed once you pulled up the chair across from him.  Your fingers fiddled between each other in a grip. "We're running low on painkillers". Your tone dried, you felt stupid admitting it out loud but given how he could still react via often jerky movements. It felt like having a mute puppet living with you, one that at least seemed to acknowledge your small talks. "I'm not sure if this will affect anything but I might have to start cutting you down to one, just in case". 

His head turned away. You frowned weakly, "I'm sorry if this hurts but, I can't risk anything before we get back". He stayed silent, you looked out to where he was staring, the 'living room', two beaten sofas and a busted radio resting beside a small lamp, you had played a few songs for him already that he liked, he always preferred your softer ones over the more aggressive music you played during work (at least when you were alone), maybe... "We can relax if you want...", nothing. You wearily admitted defeat for once, "I'm....I'm going to sort a few things out if that's ok...". His arm moved towards yours, resting tenderly against yours for a bit. You cocked your head slightly, "I...I don't wanna sound corny but.. y-y'know if there's anything wrong you can tell me". 

He stayed silent, his ragged breathing filling the space as you waited hesitantly.

'Sc...a...red'. His voice almost sounded timid, "of what, going back?". No reply... you looked back down at his stub, you swore if he had hands he'd be frantically trying to grasp yours. "welp, I won't pry if you don't want-". You paused, both of his stubs rested against your arm now, almost trying to pull you back towards the chair. You looked back at him, for once he made direct eye contact, his burning gaze moistening slightly. Your mouth quivered, you felt your heart sink in weakness. Getting up slowly, he seemed desperate to keep you near. You beside him, what remained of his legs shifting slightly as you knelt next to him. 

Without saying anything you slowly rested your hands on what remained of his, your finger pads gently stroking them, he continued. An uncomfortable pathetic wheeze of a cry that made your heart ache for his unintelligible plight. "It's ok...", the same drying comfort. His already strained voicebox struggled as he let something slip. 'P...pl...ease...I'. You pulled him closer, his body slipping away from the chair slightly as you continued to console him. His arms rested at his sides, his voice quivering harder from the slight pain. He went limp, you froze. His breathing remained ragged against your ear. Your own breathing began to weaken, moving him back to the medic bay in a daze. You rested him rest gently on the bed as you checked him. 'he must've passed out from stress...'.

Finally, you gave up. Sitting back down on the chair and waiting for him to wake up. Once again, you got up after what felt like hours and sat back in your armchair, playing a random song.

1 month before reaching Earth. 

He seemed emotionally shell shocked, falling silent whenever you brought up himself. You tried to think of  any reasons on why but you assumed, still remembering the haunting scent of decay and iron on the ship, that he had witnessed something. You tried to keep his spirits up as well, still coming in to check on him with a friendly tone and playing songs for him. But he remained silent, you felt your stomach sink ever lower. Catching him wake up in a panic or trying to hide his gaze from the blazing warmth of the artificial sunset when it began to dip into the night. You managed somewhat to keep yourself going with something-anything else, but your mind continued to linger on him.

You found yourself resting against his bed as you dozed. The day had dragged harder than normal, not being able to get a full contact going with the hospital for any advice. Alongside the usual feeding of one pill causing Curly to nearly choke. You slept before him, too tired to move away.

His arm fidgeted near yours, his eye resting on your face. He watched. You shifted slightly, your head nestling further between your arms. His arm strained until it reached your head, petting the top of it gently as you slept. He turned away, looking up at the static moon that washed over the room in a melancholy light. She would've like you, he struggled to smile slightly at the notion. He was sure Daiskue would be ecstatic to know you had managed to beat his own high scores. His eye warbled slightly as tears began to trickle down his cheek at the thought. You shifted, he turned over to watch as you sat up, blearily rubbing your eye. "Guess I'll go back t'my room...". Your voice sounded softer than usual. 

His mind went blank, his voice hoarse as you began to make your way back to your roo- "d-don't go...". You almost screeched at how humanly coherent the voice was. Your head instinctively whipped back around into the room to a splutter of coughing and wheezing from Curly. "Y-you...". You slid back into the room, flicking the bedside lamp on, looking over him as he tried to maintain his breathing. "A-are you ok?!". He tried to maintain his breathing for a bit before nodding. You sat back down in your chair, almost feeling guilty for waiting so hopefully for another response. He motioned with an arm something. 

"You wanna talk?". He nodded, you smiled weakly. "Y'wanna nod?". He paused, sheepishly nodding with a small chuckle. You sighed, sitting beside him, "le'mme guess, you're annoyed you can't do much right now". He paused, his eye tracing your face before nodding. You smiled slightly, you hit him with a few light hearted ones first. Slowly building up the courage before you blurted out something that was gnawing at the back of your mind since his episode. "You don't want to talk about your crew but you feel terrible about them". 

He froze, then slowly nodded. "I'm also gonna assume you feel responsible even though your like this?". He stopped for a bit, looking back down at his hands before turning back and shaking his head slowly. That genuinely caught you off guard. Finally, you had a gut churning thought. "You feel responsible for not helping them because you got yourself like this?" His nodding began to grow timid, finally you got an answer. "But the burns aren't your fault?". He shook his head, "you did something wrong?". Another nod, you felt your chest heave as you made your biggest leap in assumptions. "Someone else did this didn't they? but you're talking the wrong blame". 

Your eye caught a near nod as he jerked upwards slightly. Once again, slumping back in bed. "Whatever you did, it's ok to feel guilty for. It's natural but...you can't blame yourself for another persons fuck up if they were in full control". He looked back to you, his eye once again wavering. He motioned for you to come closer, leaning in hesitantly for another hug. You stayed in his embrace for a bit until you had the same idea from when you first picked him up, once again writhing out of his embrace before moving back to the window. Slipping onto the bed alongside him as you continued your soft embrace. 

Your hands found themselves resting on his back, stroking his back delicately, you lulled yourself slightly into a sleepy daze. His strained, rapsy voice slipped out in-between the gentle strokes, but you understood what he said perfectly. 'I don't want to go back...I'm scared, please...you're the only thing I've been able to keep close for this long...I...I want you to hurt me, I...', he let out a slight wheeze of a laugh as he continued his gentle rambling. 'I want to know I've done wrong...to my crew...to my friend. I-I...I'm scared of facing what I've done". 

He motioned you to pull away for a bit. His eye fixating indefinably on your face. Your brain did it again, another stupid impulse as you melted into the rotten kiss he suddenly pulled you into, your lips struggling to stay gentle against his vulnerable teeth and flesh. 

'please...'. He panted his plea out weakly between the moment. 'T...take me away'. You almost nodded, before realising what that would mean, you pulled away, looking into his soft gaze. "I-I can't...I told you...you can't be responsible for everything, but...but you have to own up to what you've done, I swear I won't let the world see you if it's too much, I promise".

You raised a pinky and let it dink delicately against his nub of an arm as his embrace weakened. "You're ok, I told you before...", your voice lightened with a small smile. "You're going to be ok". 

0 months 1 day from destination.

[redtsundere-writes]

Date 2. Listening To Music

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Soldier!Reader

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Summary: You just want to help Ghost to stop harming himself… These aren't dates, okay?

Word Count: 2974 words.

TW: MNDI. Self-harm. Smut. Possessiveness and Jealousy.

Ghost hated that Price smoked so close to his bed. Although he was partly to blame for choosing the bunk closest to the window. Now and then he would catch the captain smoking with half his body out of the window to “avoid” stinking up the room, but it never worked. The smell reminded him of his father. His harsh laugh with the smoke escaping from his cruel lips. Ghost couldn’t stand it anymore, he had to get his anger out.

The hallways were dark, but Ghost already knew the way to the exit by heart. Walk out of the room until he reached the wall, then walk left along it and go down the second staircase that led directly to the reception and then the exit. His boots echoed against each metal step, he stopped halfway when he heard a second pair of boots. He turned around to find you following him, rubbing your eyes half asleep.

“Are you going to the gym?” You asked.

You were face to face, thanks to you being a few steps higher to compensate. Ghost looked away out of shame, he didn't want to admit what you already knew. His knuckles had already healed, and he was ready to destroy them again. You sighed as your suspicions were confirmed.

“Follow me,” you asked, passing by him to lead the way.

Since you had caught him red-handed, Ghost had no choice but to follow you. You followed the stairs until they reached the common room where the shared television was and some private offices to do work or make phone calls, although most soldiers used it for other things.

“I once told my father that I was depressed, and he just told me: 'You're not depressed, you just have a dirty room.' So I did. I left it spotless,” you told him as you led him to the storage room.

“Did it work?” Ghost asked curiously.

“No,” you answered honestly. “But at least I cried in a clean room.”

You opened the door with a mischievous little smirk. Ghost could already imagine what awaited him from that short story. On the other side was a messy world, filled with canned food, blankets, and cleaning products piled up on metal shelves. Sense and order had been thrown around, and now you had to find it.

“Tonight we’re going to clean and organize the entire storage room,” you explained.

“We?” Ghost arched an eyebrow under his balaclava.

“I have seen your locker, trust me, you’ll need help,” you told him, rolling up your sleeves to get started.

You both got to work. Ghost dusted the cans off and you stacked them. You separated the cleaning products by sections of use, while Ghost swept the cobwebs off the ceiling. You both folded the blankets so that they would be better accommodated on one of the upper shelves. The whole night passed by. You did not talk because there was not much to say. You had been working together for more than a year, so you were already comfortable with each other's silence.

You were labeling some cardboard boxes until you came across one that had “Lost and Found” written on it. Your curiosity got the better of you, and you opened it to discover what was inside. Old t-shirts, ridiculous keychains, an empty canteen, everything seemed relatively normal until you saw a relic.

“Hey, Ghost, check this out. I haven’t seen one of these in years!” You called out excitedly to show him a pill-shaped MP3 player with its respective headphones connected. “And it turns on!” Your eyes sparkled as the screen light up green.

You sat on the floor, your back against the shelf, to find out what kind of music it had. The owner of the MP3 really liked 80s rock. AC/DC, Journey, Tears for Fears are some bands he had in his small library. Ghost joined you curiously, stealing an earphone to share.

“This person has good taste,” you commented.

“Not bad,” Ghost shrugged. “Could have more metal in it.”

“Why am I not surprised?” You asked sarcastically.

It was to be expected. Ghost was in her forties, so he was born in the early 70s. He was at least 6 years old when the heavy metal craze started in the UK, he practically grew up with the genre. Simon probably had posters of his favorite bands in his room and his mom would yell at him to turn down the music when he was listening to the stereo.

“Oh, this is a great song,” you said excitedly as you heard the beginning of Don’t You by Simple Minds.

You let the song play while humming the song and moving your shoulders to the beat. Ghost looked at you out of the corner of his eye as he enjoyed the song in his own way, in complete silence. Unlike him, you weren’t afraid to express your likes or opinions. If you wanted to do something, you just did it without having a nagging little voice in your head telling you it was a bad idea. Sometimes you envy being able to be free even though neither of you were locked up.

The song ended, and you continued to look through the repertoire. You were surprised to see the ballad When a Man Loves a Woman by Michael Bolton was in it, as it didn't seem to fit in with the rest of the songs. You were about to skip it when Ghost's voice stopped you.

“Leave it. I want to listen to it”.

“I never thought you'd like ballads,” you commented surprised.

“I don't like them,” he replied.

“If you don't like it, why do you want to listen…?”. Your eyes shot open in realization. “It reminds you of someone!”. You exclaimed in eureka.

“Well…”. Ghost scratched the back of his neck. It was lucky his balaclava covered his flushed face.

“A partner?”. You asked curiously.

Unlike Soap, who talks as if he was on a forever podcast, Ghost never did, much less about himself. Approved topics of conversation were discussions of hypothetical cases, the weather, or missions. That Ghost was about to reveal a memory like that was unlocking a piece of the mysterious puzzle to discover who is Simon Riley.

“No,” Ghost replied. “It’s the song I lost my virginity to.”

If the shelf hadn’t been there, you would have fallen flat on your back. You gaped at him as he looked at you weirdly as if you hadn’t just confessed that he lost his virginity to one of the most romantic ballads of 1991.

“What?” Ghost asked.

“Who would have thought? You’re such a romantic!” You scoffed.

“Not at all.” He snorted, looking away in embarrassment. “We were in the car…”

“You lost your virginity in a car?!” You exclaimed, to which Ghost quickly covered your mouth.

“Shut up, you’re going to wake everyone on the base with your screams,” Ghost whispered to you angrily. For a second you had forgotten that it was 4 in the morning.

“It must be a great story,” you whispered, still excited.

“You really want to know?” You nodded excitedly. “Fine, but you better not tell anyone,” he threatened you.

“My lips are sealed,” you closed your mouth with an imaginary zipper.

Ghost sighed, he couldn’t believe he was about to tell you one of his most precious memories. Even though that annoying little voice in his mind begged him not to, he wanted to do it. He trusted you.

“Prom was coming up. There was a girl, Melanie, but back then she was ‘Fat Melanie.’ She was bullied every day at school.”

In high school, Simon was a lone wolf who was always on the lookout for his surroundings. He knew everything. He knew who the popular ones were, the bullies, and the victims of the popularity pyramid. The only reason Simon wasn’t among the victims was because he was 6’1” tall at 18 years old. Add to that the fact that he always had an “I’m going to kill you” face on, even if he was just thinking about what he was going to eat that afternoon. Most of his classmates were so scared of him that they thought he was going to shoot up the school at some point. Luckily, this is the UK and not the US, Simon didn’t have a gun… yet.

Melanie was one of the most frequent victims he bumped into because her locker was in the same hallway as his. She was the one bullies picked on the most for having good grades and being fat, since this was the 90s and anti-bullying campaigns didn’t exist back then.

One day, a scream of excitement broke out in the hallway. Simon poked his head out of his locker to see the source of the loud sound. It was Melanie who had just received an anonymous love letter. Then he heard one of the bullies holding back his laughter, hiding behind a pillar like the fox from Dora the Explorer. Simon didn't need any more evidence to know that it was a practical joke.

Apparently, the love letter turned out to be a hateful essay on how the poor girl must kill herself to have loving parents who gave her double helpings of dessert after dinner. Melanie ended up in a sea of ​​her own tears while the bully mocked her in her face. Simon closed his locker to take a cigarette out of his pocket. He placed it on his lips and lit it in an attempt to remove himself from the situation. He was going to continue on his way, ignoring everything as always. It wasn't the first time he saw Melanie cry, he had more important things to worry about at the moment.

The other students watched the scene with some emotion at the absurd spectacle. A group of friends whispered that they felt sorry for her, which Simon thought was hypocritical. “Damn cowards…” That thought made him stop dead in his tracks. He was not a coward.

“Who would take an elephant like you to prom?” The bully mocked, cornering poor Melanie against her own locker.

The smile faded when Simon grabbed him by his leather jacket and slammed him hard against the lockers to get him out of his way. Melanie stopped crying confused at not understanding why a stranger was helping her, better yet, why a cute boy was helping her. Simon, despite his unfriendly face, was attractive in his own way. Unruly dirty blonde hair, chocolate eyes, sharp features and lips that she wanted to kiss because he was her hero. Simon took the cigarette out of his lips and blew the smoke out carelessly.

“Wanna go to prom with me, yes or no?” Simon asked her directly.

“Wait, wait… Is that how you asked her?” You asked, offended for Melanie, interrupting the story.

“Yeah, what’s wrong?”

“Ghost, I’ve seen you interrogate terrorists with more tact than that,” you explained.

“I was never good at that kind of thing, but whatever. She said yes.” He shrugged.

“Obviously she was going to accept. You were her consolation prize, even though she knew you were asking her out of pity.”

“I mean, she was pretty. Blonde, green eyes, a nice smile, she was just…”

“Fat?” You raised an offended eyebrow.

“Short. She barely reached my chest,” Ghost corrected.

“Oh.”

Simon didn’t plan on going to the prom, as he didn’t have money for it. So in less than a week he got the tickets by doing some odd jobs around the neighborhood, bought a black suit at a thrift store, borrowed a neighbor’s car in exchange for some handyman work, and stole some pink roses from a hotel garden.

After the neighbor gave him some advice on how to behave like a gentleman, Simon went to pick up Melanie at her house. Luckily, the roses matched her dress that looked like a cotton candy cloud. Her mother was impressed with the boy who asked her sweet daughter to prom. She forced them to pose for a picture while her father glared him.

Simon thought he would hate prom, but he had a good time. They took their yearbook photo, the band was good, and no one bothered them all night. Melanie was forcing him to dance, even to the slow songs as if they were dating. Since he had invited her, he had no choice but to please her. After all, it was only for one night.

It turns out that some idiot poured whiskey into the fruit punch without anyone noticing, so Simon and Melanie were waiting in the parking lot for the alcohol to go down so they could go back to their houses safely. The radio was on the love station (Melanie's choice). Ghost doesn't remember how it happened exactly, but one moment they were chatting and a second later, she already had her hand on his crotch.

Luckily, his kind neighbor had put condoms in the glove compartment in case this exact situation happened. Simon helped her into the backseat, so the magic could begin. They kissed like idiots because neither of them had ever done it before. They undressed as best they could in the square meter they were in. It was obvious what was going on because the car shook like a bouncy house, the windows were fogged up, and When a Man Loves a Woman was playing at full volume.

Simon drove Melanie home with her hair a mess, her elaborate dress placed wrong, and her lipstick ruined. Melanie kissed him on the cheek goodbye as soon as he opened the car door for her. She was about to get in her house when she shouted:

“This was the best night of my life!”

“I don’t know why that affected me so much. I stood there like an idiot watching her get in when I really wanted to tell her that it was also the best night of my life,” Ghost told you as soon as the song ended.

“Please tell me that you later became a couple, got married, had three children, and adopted a dog,” you begged him in the face of the adorable story.

“After graduation, I never saw her again.” You groaned at such a disappointing ending. “The last thing I heard from her is that she moved to London to study at university.”

“You never looked for her?” You asked, hopeful of a possible sequel.

“No. After high school I went to work at a butcher shop, and then I joined the army, so I lost contact with a lot of people.”

“How sad,” you murmured.

“Why is it sad?”

“Because it was obvious that you liked each other, and could have been a nice couple.”

“Sometimes there are people who are only destined to be a nice memory.” Ghost sighed.

“You're right.” You pressed your back against the shelf, careful that the earphone didn't come out of your ear. “Although I can't imagine you dancing to a slow song, I can't even imagine myself doing it.” 

“Have you never danced to a slow song?” Ghost asked you, surprised. You shook your head. “It's not that hard” He said before standing up.

“What are you doing?” You arched your eyebrow confused.

“I'll teach you” Ghost took your hands to help you up.

“Are you serious?” You asked, unable to believe it.

Ghost took the MP3 from you to play When a Man Loves a Woman again. He placed the earphone in your ear again so that both of you could listen to the song. One of his calloused hands pulled you by the waist to hold you close to his body, while the other wrapped around your hand. He ordered you to put your free hand on his shoulder and, like a good subordinate, you did.

“Now what?”.

“Just follow me,” Ghost whispered to you.

“Yes, sir,” you responded in the same way.

Ghost moved his feet from side to side, in a back and forth motion that went from his feet to his shoulders. You just followed his steps with a certain stiffness since this was your first time dancing so close to someone. He was right, it wasn't that hard when he was in control. The seductive sound of the guitar and the relaxed rhythm of the drums made you melt into your partner's body. You rested your head on his chest. One ear listened to the music and the other, the addictive rhythm of his heart inside his strong chest.

Ghost smiled at the warmth of your body. He placed his chin on your head as you slowly turned around the small place you shared in the world. He closed his eyes for a second to pretend you were in an elegant living room with a giant chandelier lighting your steps when in reality you were in a storage with a bare wire spotlight. Nothing mattered beyond the fact that Ghost enjoyed having someone to protect in his arms.

The MP3 player died in the middle of the ballad. With no music playing in the background anymore, you pulled away from each other. His hand longed for your touch as soon as you moved your hand away. You stretched your arms with a yawn, you were already sleepy after snuggling into his chest.

“I think I’ll go to sleep now,” you whispered.

“I’ll finish here,” Ghost offered.

You said goodnight to each other and left the storage to return to your bunk bed. Ghost took out his earphone, wrapped the cord around the MP3 and put it in his pocket. It had been a good night. He didn't hurt himself, he danced with a cute girl and found his old MP3 player.

Masterlist.

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Thanks for reading! <3

[hauntedsprings]

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