#doesn’t have ghosts in his head anymore lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vcnillazelda · 1 year

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Hi! ^^ I don't know if you're still taking requests. I'm kind of new around here.

So If you can, I'd like to ask for headcanons or a scenario where Ghost / Soap / König has a crush on a recruit girl who is a very skilled sniper, but is constantly underestimated and even excluded by other military personnel for being short and mute?

ghost, soap and könig crushing on mute! recruit! reader

tags: pining, eventual relationship/getting together, confessions, protective! simon, könig’s is really long i’m sorry 😭

johnny and könig under cut

a/n: aaaaa this is adorable

✞———————❖———————✞

ghost

he’s nervous around you ngl

full on like palms sweaty and mild stammering it’s so cute

the fact you’re mute is kind of appealing to him, he likes your company because you don’t bother him like johnny does, you’ll listen if he speaks and offer some communication sometimes albeit his sign language is rusty

the moment he realised he’s in love with you is the first mission you went on. he’s seeking you out, knowing he can’t ask your location because you couldn’t respond. he gets a little anxious due to the lack of communication, it’s what keeps him sane, knowing his colleagues are okay.

he gets you a special radio so you can communicate better, putting an extra button on so you could beep it. one for yes, two for no, three for ‘i’m in danger’, yet simon’s the only one to know about that last one

is extremely impressed by your aim, the moment he saw a sliver of a man in a window you took him down.

back on base, he notices other rookies leaving you out of training, so you’d have no one to train with.

pulls you from that training session and offers private training with him (1. because he wants to help and feels bad you’re being ostracised, 2. because he wants to spend time with you and be close to you).

when he confessed to you and asked if you felt the same he thought it would be the end of everything, but you gave him a kind smile and nodded- simon has never been so happy

he’s nervous about dating, it’s been a long time and he’s not exactly a model lover or a ‘good man’, so you’ll have to be a little patient with him

soon after dating, he sticks around you all the time, hovering in your space whilst you’re practicing longer distance shots

no one dares to leave you out of anything when he’s by your side <3

johnny

he immediately befriends you, happily chatting away- he does enough talking for the both of you

doesnt realise you’re mute at first, he starts to think you don’t like him until you give him a note explaining your situation, he’s so relieved

people leaving you out? not when johnny’s here! he’ll argue with people before pulling you from that training group and into his own- he convinced price pretty easily due to your file being full of good comments from higher ups + your aim was incredible

is literally your best friend when you join 141 and then ghost team, he’s all smiley and talks for you

he doesn’t even need to communicate with you anymore to talk for you, he’s got a sixth sense for that type of thing it’s crazy

the moment he realised he loved you was when he was done arguing with someone about excluding you, then when he walked back to you, you had a sweet smile on your face, thanking him

because you’re short, he’ll 100% use your head as an armrest btw

he confesses in a pretty old-school way, a note, flowers and a sheepish grin on his face

when you hug him tight and nod he’s over the moon, scooping you into a bear hug and kissing your cheek

he’s much more straightforward and quick than simon, so if you feel your relationships moving too fast you’ve got to tell him lol

adores you and always praises your aim on missions

will always stick up for you, no matter what.

will want you to meet his family- and he comes from a large scottish family so be ready for that 😭

will get slightly jealous when you befriend his baby brother, agreeing to play games with him- this wasn’t meant to happen, you two just clicked and now johnny’s stuck between you two

gets all clingy afterwards, asking for your attention back- he’s so childish sometimes aidjdifjdfkdien

loves going out to places with you, so 100% your first date is in a nice restaurant tucked away in a nook in his hometown :)

könig

when he sees you being openly left out of things he genuinely feels for you, considering he was heavily bullied in school

he even gets left out of things now, and he’s one of the top snipers on the force

approaches you, hoping he doesn’t look to intimidating, and asks if you want to train with him

he’s dreading you saying no, but when you smile and accept he’s quite happy

he’s used to training alone, so there’s not much conversation as the two of you work on your aim

eventually, after a few training sessions, he strikes up a few conversations.

gets extremely anxious when you don’t respond, because he’s too busy looking down his scope to look at you, and drops it

you catch on that he’s put off and give him a small note explaining you’re mute

he’s so happy you don’t hate him because deep down he wants to be friends

soon after becoming friends, you don’t care that you’re being left out of things because you just blow them off and go hang out with your extremely tall austrian friend :)

the height difference between you two is very noticeable so some other operators start calling you two ‘big and small’ 😭

you’re the first person he tells his name to, he wants you to trust him and also wants you to know he trusts you

takes time out of his day to learn sign language so the two of you can talk easier, it’s really sweet to peer into his room and see him slowly practicing hand movements

the moment he realised he loved you was when the two of you were in his room, some soft music playing as you wrote something in your journal- you looked perfect in the lamplight and he wanted to kiss you

gets extremely anxious over the idea of liking you more than a friend, he doesn’t want to lose this friendship and has never actually dated anyone before considering he’s such a loner

he asks you out in a completely different way. leaves a note on your bed but isn’t there at all, doesn’t want to face rejection.

it’s easier on him because if you do reject him he can just pretend it never happened because he wasn’t there

when you sign the note saying ‘yes :)’ and leave it on his bed he’s so happy, immediately running to the practice range and hugging you

people ask what happened because it’s so out of character for him to hug someone, and he’ll just state that something good happened

is a very hands on, clingy lover. he’s never been in a relationship before and he didn’t realise at the time how starved he was for any type of affection that wasn’t maternal (he’s a mommas boy come on now)

speaking of which, if you agree to meet his mother he’s gonna kiss you immediately. is so delighted because off base his mother is the most important thing to him

she’s lovely too, never pressures you to talk despite not entirely understanding why you’re mute. gives you plenty of austrian food you’ve probably never had before and gives amazing hugs, she’s so happy her son found a girlfriend :)

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outofconcheol · 2 months

Text

Exit West (LMH x F!Reader)

pairing: Minho x f!reader (afab)

genres/au/rating: angst, smut, some fluff, post-apocalyptic au (based on the Netflix series Sweet Home), 18+

summary: Even when the world is plunged into its darkest hour, you find the faintest light in Minho.

warnings: heavy angst, lots of mentions of blood and injuries (i tried to make it as non-graphic as possible), minor character deaths, weapons, panic attack (again not graphic), it's heavily implied OC struggles with agoraphobia and PTSD, brief infidelity, Minho and reader do get into verbal arguments (they're a little toxic lol), Minho is a true loverboy, ambiguous but hopeful ending, smut warnings: kissing, fingering (f rec), unprotected sex, brief nipple play

word count: 6.3k

a/n: i'm so sorry that this took so long, google docs decided to be a jerk and delete a huge chunk of this while i was working on it (I apologize in advance for the poorly written angst)! It is based on the world of Sweet Home but honestly you don't need to have watched the show or read the webtoon to follow along. the title is from the book by Mohsin Hamid. I hope you enjoy! <;3

The sharp wire of the metal fence cuts into Minho’s palms, digging into his mottled skin, and he braces himself for the jump. Leaping over, Minho lands silently on his feet, skills honed from many years of observing his cats take the same leap from couches or counters. But none of that existed anymore.

His eyes remain sharp, taking in the cover of woods around him, and he remembers that while the trees helped him stay hidden, they hid the monsters from his sight as well. No sooner than he’s managed to calm down the ever-present racing of his heart, he’s swinging the door to the bunker open, closing it quietly behind him.

Wincing, he examines the cuts on his palms, tinged with dirty specks of rust. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep doing this, knowing the small supply of rubbing alcohol he’d managed to collect over the past few months was now down to the last bottle. And there was no more to be found.

The small bit of sunlight that streams in through the barely-qualifying window illuminates your sleeping figure nestled amongst a pile of dirty blankets, and Minho almost hesitates to disturb you like this. You look so peaceful like this, a stark contrast to the emptiness that fills your eyes when you wake, the pain of living through two starkly different lifetimes contained in their depths. He knows his eyes hold the same.

“___,” he shakes you awake gently, watching you stir. The gashes that mar your face have begun to scab over, leaving ugly scars in their wake.

“I brought dinner.”

That gets you to jolt up, rubbing sleepily at your eyes.

“Are you okay? Anything hurt?” You shake your head, a small frown on your face when you see the fresh red marks that litter his palms. He has the feeling you’re lying to him again, but he doesn’t push it. A lot went unspoken between you two.

Minho wordlessly hands you over a full sleeve of crackers, your eyes lighting up. You chomp down eagerly on one, before pausing, holding it out to him.

“I already ate,” he lies, knowing he didn’t want you to sacrifice any kind of meal for his sake. He’d eat the less full sleeve when you fell back asleep.

Moments of silence pass between you, the soft sounds of your eating lulling Minho’s tired eyes to fall, becoming heavy with sleep. He rests his head on his knees, fighting back the shiver that night brought with it.

A deafening roar breaks through the stillness, and you freeze, dropping the crackers to the ground. Minho is by your side in an instant, hand tentatively reaching out towards your shoulder. But he never closes the gap.

“Ten seconds,” you croak out, so softly that Minho thinks he might not have heard you. “If the distance that sounds travel is 343 metres per second, then ten seconds means it’s far enough away from us.”

The ghost of a smile twitches at Minho’s lips, and he wants to praise your sharp skills, considering he’d only ever been a pabo, but you’ve turned around and fallen asleep again, your back to him.

Minho settles into the blankets across from you, watching you for a few minutes before his body is weighed down by the exhaustion of the day, knowing the exact same thing waited tomorrow. The end of the world was more boring than he’d expected it to be.

It hadn’t always been this way. The chaos had naturally broken through the quiet, starting one night when a fire broke out in his apartment complex. Amidst the screams and sounds of windows shattering, Minho’s only concern had been the cats, scooping them up, taking special care to cover their ears from the blaring alarms. But all of it hadn’t made a difference anyway.

He thought it was his neighbour at the end of the hallway. Or at least, it looked like him. He’d always had some sort of disdain for the man - in Minho’s eyes he talked too much. Always interrupting him during his morning mail runs to brag about his latest conquests when it came to dating. It was a sore spot for Minho, especially considering his own romantic interests were so singular, something he didn’t want to get into whenever his neighbor cornered him.

But the vain man who talked Minho’s ear off about sleeping with as many women as possible was nowhere to be found, lithe limbs transforming into ropes that broke through the ceiling. Heading straight for Minho.

Somewhere in the chaos, Minho briefly had time to register that whatever was in front of him was no longer human. And so, he did the only thing he could do. Run.

The floor slipped underneath him, hurtling Minho to the ground, the cat carrier thrown open next to him. Soonie, Doongi, and Dori are nowhere to be found. His palms claw against the tile, trying and failing to lift himself up, eyes widening when he sees the red that coats his palms.

“Please,” Minho croaks, attempting to break through to the human underneath the monster. “Don’t do this.”

There’s a brief flash, a spindly arm reaching out for Minho’s face, and he ducks. The sound of shattering glass follows, the grotesque body flinging itself out the window. Minho heaves, hot tears leaking from his face as he remains curled in the fetal position, arms braced over his head. When his breath returns to him, he looks over at the empty carrier and lets out a sob. Slowly, his eyes turn to the shattered window.

Blood lines its jagged edges, dripping to join the mess on the floor. Peering downwards, Minho sees the mangled body of the thing (he refused to acknowledge it had been his neighbor) that had attacked him, unmoving.

He had to get out of there.

…

The knock at the door startles you. It’d been days since you’d locked yourself away from the chaos, days since you’d heard a sound. But the screams would never leave your head.

You’ve been huddled up in the same corner since it all started, exactly ten feet away from the door. Close enough to act quickly in case someone (or something) came knocking, but far enough away to duck into one of the rooms of your apartment for safety.

However, the splitting pain in your ankle prevents you from doing either. The bruises are turning a nasty shade of yellow, mixing with the unsightly violet from before. You’re pretty sure it’s broken, your bookcase toppling over onto it the day this had all started.

The knock startles you again. It’s soft, gentler than the ramming you’d expected if a monster were to come knocking. But still, you could never be too safe.

“Churu,” a soft voice whispers through the darkness, and you freeze. There was only one person in the world who’d know that word, and come knocking at your door.

Your palms burn as you drag yourself against the floor, taking extra care to make as little sound as possible. Fighting the urge to curse when the door creaks, you brace yourself against it, peering through the peephole.

The banged-up face of Lee Minho greets you on the other end, and you nearly sob with relief. Swinging the door open, you take him in at the threshold, peering at you with a strange gaze. You’d often joked to Minho that his eyes resembled his cats’, curiosity mixed with having seen too much contained in their depths. But it seemed especially true today, his lip split open and face haggard while he clutched a baseball bat in his hand.

You know the first thing he’s going to ask before it even leaves his mouth.

“Are you hurt?” he huffs out, watching you collapse against the door frame.

“Junho is gone.” You watch Minho’s entire figure tense up when his best friend’s name comes off your lips, his grip around the bat tightening.

“I-, I tried to talk to him, but there was a weird sound on my phone that kept breaking us up, and then I heard him scream, and then…”

You collapse against Minho in a fit of sobs, forced to recount those awful last moments when you’d heard your boyfriend die over a phone call, the chilling screech of something that wasn’t human cutting off his screams for help. And you were trapped halfway across the city, crumpled on the floor, unable to do anything to help him.

Minho’s arms wrap around you, supporting your weight, and he’s moving you both over the threshold, taking care to shut the door softly behind him. You don’t know how many minutes you spend wailing against his chest, the sight of another human forcing you to confront the horror you’d dealt with in the past few days, but eventually, the pain in your ankle makes itself known again, and you slide to the floor.

Minho rests his head against the door frame, his own eyes red-rimmed, and you watch his face contort, trying to hold back the tears from falling.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, watching Minho’s gaze snap to yours.

“What for?” he croaks. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I’m so scared, Minho,” your eyes fill with tears. “I thought that no one would come for me, that I’d be alone here, and that I’d…”

You choke, unable to finish the sentence, and you watch Minho straighten next to you. The warmth of his hand wrapping around your waist startles you, watching his lithe body contort as he helps you up off the floor, taking special care not to put weight on your ankle.

“You’re with me now. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

There’s a furrow in Minho’s brow when he hears your request, lips tightening into a thin line while his throat bobs.

“Absolutely not.”

The decision is final, resolute, stubborn — Minho’s arms are crossed over each other, and he stares down at your figure among the blankets, eyeing the makeshift splint currently tied around your ankle.

“Minho, please.” It comes out as a whine, years building in your eyes from the frustration of being trapped in the bunker for months on end.

“I said no.”

Minho had dragged the two of you to safety not long after he’d found you, stealthily dodging the strange creatures that had begun to pop up on the city landscape. There was little in common between them besides their monstrous appearances, but Junho’s screams lingered in the back of your mind, causing you to wake up every night in a cold sweat for the first few weeks.

The tiny bunker became your new home, and Minho your roommate, forced together by circumstances beyond your control. You’d snapped at him when he brought up the idea of leaving, wanting to search for food and supplies outside.

Unfortunately, your ankle made the final decision for you — Minho would have to be the sacrificial lamb, risking his life for you both. It filled you with an immeasurable amount of guilt, knowing he put himself in danger every day to provide for you both. But it also made you angry, the listlessness that had begun to brew inside you only becoming stronger when you felt more and more useless every time he’d come back with food and medicine for you and nothing for himself.

Regret cut through you like a searing knife. Who was Minho to do all these things? He’d been Junho’s best friend, not yours. The relationship between you two had been cordial at best, Minho barely managing to string more than five words together every time he was around you. It always seemed to you like Minho stood at the other end of a vast abyss, impossible for you to reach in any way. Admittedly, you’d been no help in closing the chasm, even since you’d both escaped together, the pain in your ankle lulling you to sleep as soon as you swallowed the meds he brought every day.

Your eyes flit to Minho across the bunker, holed up into the corner. You watch his hands rummage around in his pocket, pulling out a switchblade. The shiny metal gleams in the rays of the sun, Minho’s fingers enclosing around a lock of his messy, overgrown hair—

“STOP!” The switchblade clatters to the floor at the sound of your voice, Minho’s lips parting in surprise. A deep flush creeps across your neck, wondering what had prompted you to interrupt him in the moment. His eyes study you with a curious glint, a thousand questions hidden in them.

“You’ll dull the knife,” you manage to get out, amazed at the calmness in your voice despite your heart racing at a million miles an hour. “What if we need it?”

Minho’s lips twist up into a smirk, and you wonder if he can see through your thinly veiled excuse. If he does, he doesn’t say anything, throwing a baseball cap over the shaggy strands, smiling when they fall into his eyes.

“Fine,” he acquiesces. “You can come along. But any sign of trouble and you have to leave me and get back here, okay?”

“What do you mean, leave you? You’re coming back with me, of course.”

“___.”

“Minho.”

You push yourself off the ground with your palms, hobbling over to Minho’s side.

“Thank you,” you whisper softly to him, and Minho rubs at the back of his neck sheepishly, before the door to the bunker creaks open once more, this time the two of you stepping out into the sun together.

. . .

Sweat pools on Minho’s shirt, the sun beating down on the two of you while you make your way through the woods, eventually finding yourselves in a vast field. You’re slower than he is, trailing behind him while you skip on your partially healed ankle, but Minho finds he doesn’t mind.

In fact, he thinks he must look like a fool, the huge smile that threatens to take over his face creeping up every few minutes. Somehow, it feels different now, having you here with him. The sun’s rays feel less ruthless, and there’s the faint rustling of a breeze through the meadow. It's almost like he’s on an adventure, and not caught in an endless struggle for survival. He’s filled with the hope that maybe the two of you can come out of this alive. Together.

Pushing through the blades of grass, Minho pauses when he hears a small thud behind him, followed by the faint sound of wheezing. Turning on his heels, his heart turns to ice when he sees you, knees curled to your chest, the faint sheen of sweat lingering on your skin.

“Shit!” Minho curses into thin air, crouching onto the dirt next to you. “Stay with me ___!”

His arm swings out to steady you, but recoils at the last second, not wanting to startle you. Guilt eats away at his chest when he realizes this is all his fault. He’d been the one to agree to let you go outside. Realization dawns on him that there’d been a reason you stayed in the bunker the entire time, his mind flashing back to the days you must have spent alone in your apartment, full of pain, wondering if anyone would show up.

Minho panics, looking around the field for something, anything that could help hold you over until this passes, when a thought crosses his mind.

“Do you want to hear about the time I tried to walk my cats?” He babbles out, cheeks hot at the silly interruption. It works though, your face jolts up, the trance finally broken. Your eyes are red-rimmed, hair dampened with sweat, snot running down your nose. Minho thinks you’ve never looked more beautiful.

“It was in a field just like this, I brought them out here with their harnesses,” he continues, the smile growing on his face when he sees the stream of tears that run down your cheeks dry up.

“It was a disaster. I thought Doongie ran away for sure, and Soonie just laid down in the grass on his belly, refusing to get up. Dori was the only one who took to it,” he reminsces fondly, a half-sob, half-chuckle escaping him at the memory, trying to soothe the hollow ache in his heart when he thinks of them.

“I wish I’d met them,” you reply softly, your hand resting on Minho’s shoulder.

“It was my fault,” Minho spits out bitterly. “Junho was over all the time, I could have introduced you. They would have really liked you I think.”

Just like I do.

“I hope we find them,” your voice is quiet, but there’s a resoluteness to it that surprises Minho. “They have to be out there somewhere, waiting for you.”

That strange feeling of hope bubbles up in Minho’s chest again, and he helps you up, fighting the burning in his cheeks when your hand remains clasped in his, the two of you hobbling through the field.

Half an hour later, and you’re stopped outside the remains of what looked to be a convenience store, completely ransacked. Minho ignores the emptiness he feels when he lets go of your hand to peer inside, his heart dropping at the bare shelves.

Behind him, a twig snaps, your sharp gasp echoing amidst the silence. The gleam of the switchblade is apparent in seconds, Minho pulling it out of his pocket.

The woman is whimpering, her gauzy white dress in tatters. His eyes trail to her hands, the discoloured nails offset by the glint of a fancy diamond ring, and for a moment, he could almost believe she’d just walked out of the church, beaming from the happiest day of her life.

But her eyes say differently. Hollow pools of black, nothing behind them. She’s one of them.

“___, run.” Minho commands, not even turning to look behind him. He hopes you’re gone already, hopes you won’t have to stick around to see this dark side of him, the one that was used to doing battle with monsters every time he left the safety of your little bunker.

But you’re not gone. Your hand wraps around his, lifting it up to study the switchblade in his hand. He looks into your eyes, full of fear but also sadness at the sight in front of you, and he wonders if you see yourself in her. What things could have been with Junho.

“I don’t think she’s going to hurt us,” you wrestle Minho’s blanched fingers off the blade. “We should just go.”

You pocket the knife, Minho’s jaw tensing at the thought of leaving the woman behind, unsure of the potential harm she could cause. He opens his mouth to protest, but realizes you’ve already begun to walk away, your slumped figure visible against the setting sun. You’re crying again.

The woman wails harder when she sees the two of you go, her cries echoing into the silent night.

It’s cold tonight in the bunker.

You shiver among the pile of blankets, watching your breath turn into mist in the frosty air. Teeth chattering, you look over to Minho. His pile of blankets is even more sparse than your own, and you catch sight of his own trembling figure.

It’s cold, your voice echoes in the back of your mind, your feet dragging across the floor, the blankets dragging behind you.

It’s cold, it echoes again, Minho stirring when you lay by his side, throwing the extra blankets over the two of you. His eyes go wide with shock when he sees your face across his in the darkness, studying the way your hair falls messily in your face, the rapid rising of your chest with every breath.

It’s cold, it repeats a final time, your lips surging forward to meet Minho’s, a strange noise escaping his throat before one of his arms comes up to wrap around you, his other palm steadying him against the floor. It’s cold and Minho is warm, the heat from his body burning through you when his tongue traces your lips, before slipping inside, a low whine escaping your throat.

You break away from him, flushed and shivering, but no longer cold. Minho’s hot breath fans against your cheeks, his thumb resting tentatively at the curve of your jaw.

“Touch me please,” you beg him, and his grip around your waist tightens, hands tracing circles on your side. His lips find yours again, thumbs slipping underneath the hem of your shirt, resting against the curve of your hips. You burrow your face into Minho’s neck, leaving featherlight kisses against his jaw, heat rising in your chest when you hear Minho hold his breath. Breaking away, you meet his gaze, the tips of his ears turning red.

“Anything,” he whispers against your lips. “I’ll do anything for you.”

Sparks crackle in the air between you, the once stagnant air in the bunker becoming filled with frantic energy, you slipping a leg over to straddle Minho, him fumbling with the buttons to your clothes, pushing aside just enough to feel how wet you are. The fingers of his other hand trace under your shirt again, climbing up your stomach, thumbs brushing against the underside of your breasts before he tugs at your nipples.

Sighing, your hips move against Minho’s hardness, pushing aside the worn fabric of Minho’s flannel to press kisses to his collarbones, his thumb working on your clit. Your back arches when he presses another finger inside, and the familiar burn of your orgasm begins to rise, building in your stomach.

“Let go for me,” Minho groans, and the deep growl in his voice has you hurtling over the edge, trembling as you fall apart on top of him. The two of you exchange shallow breaths, Minho’s fingers still buried inside you, and you feel your core begin to clench around them, whining from the oversensitivity.

“Please, please, can I fuck you?” Minho whispers, desperation in his tone. You nod, head spinning with everything that had happened, and you reach back under his sweats, fishing his cock out from underneath them.

He pushes into you slowly, groaning when he feels your walls widening to accommodate him. The two of you stay there for a few moments, catching your breath before you tell him it’s okay to move. His hips snap lazily against yours, fucking you slowly and deeply, soft pants and the sound of your wetness reverberating through the bunker.

You rock against him gently, and you reach for his hands, his warm fingertips slipping through your own easily, limbs tangling together in desperation.

“You’re perfect god, you’re perfect, I love you, I love you so much,” he slurs the words, the confession ringing in your ears, soft groans accompanied by the speeding up of his thrusts before he spills inside you.

Lifting you off of him, his arms reach around your body to press you against him, his lips ghosting your forehead, and you feel the wet trail of tears on his cheeks. Eventually, his breathing slows, soft snores telling you he’s fallen asleep, but you remain restless for the rest of the night.

The headache hits Minho like a freight train in the morning, as he stares up at the rust-covered ceiling. There’s a faint chill in the air, one that became even more pronounced when he woke up and you weren’t by his side, and he wonders for a second if he’d imagined it all, from the softness of your lips to the way the words he’d been wanting to say, waiting years to say spilled out of his throat, every kiss and laugh you shared with Junho burned into his memory. And all he did was look on, hopeless in his desperation. Until everything changed last night.

A loud clang startles him, and he jumps up, watching you throw a heavy sack containing the supplies he’d stockpiled against the walls of the bunker, your back turned to him. He lifts himself off his feet, padding softly behind you, his arm reaching out for you.

“Don’t touch me,” you hiss, words clipped and venomous, and you keep rearranging, completely ignorant to the way Minho stands there, unable to formulate a response, his tongue feeling as though it’s weighed down with lead.

Rage lights up inside him as he watches you move around him, the silence making his heart freeze over, and he decides that he can’t take it anymore. It’s been months with you acting this way, cold and distant, refusing to let Minho in. Before, he’d been able to write off your happiness with Junho as an excuse, as a reason why he couldn’t let himself get close to you. But Junho was long gone.

“We’re not doing this,” he spins you around to face him. “You don’t get to walk away from me like that.”

You push against Minho’s chest with all the might you can muster, and he staggers back. The look in your eyes makes you seem like a wounded animal, ready to pounce.

“Why’d you say it?” Another push, the words leaving you in a broken sob. “Why’d you do that?”

You bat against Minho’s chest until he can no longer take it, grabbing both of your hands with one of his, pinning you against the wall.

“Because it’s true,” he breathes, looking past you through the window outside, unable to meet your eyes. “I love you ____. I’ve loved you this entire time, even when you were with Junho. And I hate myself for it.”

He lets go of your arms, stepping back, his shoulders beginning to shake with the force of his own sobs.

“Why do you think I stayed? Why do you think I put myself in danger every day to make sure that you had medicine for your ankle, food to fill your stomach? Why do you think I go out there and kill every single monster I run into, because I need to make it back here, to be with you again?”

“You shouldn’t!” you scream at him. “What kind of life is this? Love should be the last thing on your mind right now, Minho! You should fucking worry about your own neck, and stop giving a damn about me!”

The words tear through you, because you know that if it weren’t for his love, you wouldn’t even be alive right now. And it hurts, hurts to think of how long he’s spent living like this, merely surviving, a wall of ice around his chest.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t. But I do. Do you know that these past few months, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been? What kind of fucked up logic is that? I have nothing, nothing in this world besides this stupid bunker and the clothes on my back, and it makes me want to sob with joy. Because I get you. I get a chance at life with you, after so many years of wishing for it, and knowing I could never have it.”

He falls onto the ground, tucking his head into his knees.

“The universe gave me another chance,” he whispers softly.

Your blood turns to ice, and you crouch down next to him.

“What do you mean, another chance?”

He looks at you, and you finally see all the pain in his eyes come to the surface, everything that he’s kept bottled up inside.

“It should have been me,” he mutters, lost in his own head. “I told Junho about how I wanted to go up to you that night, how beautiful I thought you were, but before I could do anything, he was there. It ended up being him.”

Your head reels from his confession, and you think back to everything that’s happened through the years. All those memories you had with Junho, Minho lingering in the background, purposely keeping his distance. Memories that you could have had with him instead. Bile rises up in the back of your throat, and you back away.

“I can’t do this, Minho, not right now, I can’t–”

“I know.” He’s at the door before you can stop him, one foot on the other side of the threshold. “Don’t worry about it.”

He leaves before you can even ask him to stay.

Minho knocks back another shot, stomach churning when he sees Junho approach the pretty brunette, chatting her up. She’s batting her eyelashes and giggling at him, and he knows he should be grateful that his best friend is helping him out, on a desperate mission to cure Minho’s singleness.

But all he can focus on is you in the corner, nervously watching your boyfriend flirt with another girl, and Minho wants to vomit when he sees your lip tremble, eyes glassy with tears.

He’d driven himself nearly mad with the fantasies about what he’d do if he was in Junho’s position, how much better he could treat you. But at the end of the day, that’s all they were. Fantasies. You two were happy together, and he had no place in it.

Minho suddenly remembers the shiny ring that Junho had shown him last week, tucked away in the drawer of his dresser, and decides promptly that he needs to step outside, the stale air of the bar burning his nostrils.

There’s a faint breeze outside, and it calms him, rewiring his muddled senses enough for him to plop down on the curb. Minho heaves, the alcohol coming back up his throat, but he tries his best to breathe deeply, like his therapist had told him. The pity in her eyes when he’d explained his feelings for you lingers in the back of his mind. You were a vice he couldn’t quit.

A shadow looms next to him, and Minho looks over to see you standing on the curb next to him, studying him curiously.

“Not a fan of cheap vodka?” you chuckle, taking a seat next to him, and Minho internally curses when he feels your thighs brush. He was too drunk for this.

“Just needed some air,” he tries to laugh it off too. “Gonna have a killer headache tomorrow.”

“She was pretty,” the statement startles him. He couldn’t give less of a damn about the girl Junho was talking to, but it seems that wasn’t the case for you.

“Not interested,” he grits out. Not when she’s not you.

“You know, dating isn’t all it’s cut out to be,” you sigh. “I mean, there are good times, don’t get me wrong, but the bad times feel a thousand times worse when you care about someone. Like seeing your boyfriend flirt with another girl right in front of you.”

There’s a bitter edge to your words, and Minho surprises you, reaching over to cup your cheek and tilt your head towards him.

“Junho is a fool,” the words come out in a slow, heavy breath.

“Happy birthday, Minho,” you whisper, a small smile on your face, and Minho leans in, lips searching for yours. The kiss is quick, a brief graze full of shy reluctance, but you’re surprised you don’t back away, dizzy when he retreats, and missing the feeling of his soft lips.

You lean your head on his shoulder, the two of you lingering on the curb for a few moments, before Junho’s loud voice echoes in the background, startling you apart from each other.

“Hey dipshits, the party’s inside,” he drawls, walking over to swoop you off your feet. Junho presses a peck to your cheek, wrapping his jacket around you, and your eyes roam around frantically, looking for any sign of Minho. But he’s already gone, the faint outline of his leather jacket the only thing you see before he disappears around the corner of the bar, vanishing into the night.

Minho stumbles through the forest, the pounding in his head only growing worse, the memory of the kiss you’d shared consuming his thoughts, splintered with snippets from the conversation with you. The one he’d been waiting so long to have.

The spell had been shattered, and Minho thinks he’s foolish to imagine that it could have lasted, the two of you playing house together, and he cursed the false hope he’d harboured for so long. It was a fucking apocalypse, you were desperate for release, and you’d never cared. Not like he did.

But then his mind flashes back to the kiss, and he doesn’t know what possessed him that night, or possessed you to return it. The moment was the single spark that kept the flickering flame of his love for you going, even now, when you’d basically banished him.

A sharp pain surges through him, and Minho staggers to the ground. He clutches the fabric of his shirt, lifting it up to see the ugly wound he’d been letting fester for weeks, a stray swipe from a monster he’d run into. It’s pulsating now, stabbing into his side, and he wants to kick himself. Why had he been so selfless?

Sometimes, he thinks loving you was the worst decision he’d ever made, the way it consumed him completely. He thinks that maybe if time could reverse, and he had a second chance, that he’d never do it, never lock eyes with you from across the party, your smile forever etched into his memory. But that was a lie. Minho knew he’d do it all again for as long as his heart continued to beat.

Minho feels something squelch on the ground below him, a metallic tang hitting the back of his throat. He swipes at it, crimson coating his fingers. Blood. His blood. He presses a tentative hand to his face, swiping at his leaking nose, but the bleeding won’t stop. There’s too much of it.

Minho screams when his spine cracks, the pain splitting through his entire body, and he feels his eyes roll back into his head.

When he opens them again, the world is dark. And he runs.

. . .

Your lungs feel like they’re going to collapse, parched for air as you make your way through the forest, wobbling through the trees, looking for something, anything that could lead you to Minho.

Your heartbeat echoes in your ears, accompanied by a ringing that hasn’t ceased since you left the bunker. The decision still made your stomach turn, afraid to confront the outside world without Minho by your side, but you had to find him. Had to let him know that you wouldn’t let him suffer anymore.

Mind lingering on a specific memory from Minho’s birthday, you realized there’d always been a strange undercurrent between you, even when Junho had been around. Despite how many times he drew away from you, you never let him escape completely. At first, you’d thought it was because he was Junho’s friend, but it all changed after that night outside the bar, your attraction to Minho settling in your chest like a lead weight.

You think back to the months you’d spent together, the world falling apart around you, and how Minho had become your entire world, the reason you’d continued to hope. How you’d fallen in love with every part of him, from the way he’d let you take the first share of food to the messy strands of his grown-out hair.

The wind whips through your hair, the dense cover of trees thinning around you, and you stumble upon the meadow, a lone figure illuminated in the moonlight. You know it’s him.

“Minho!” you scream, watching as he stumbles across the field in response, trying to get away from you. “Minho!”

You scream until your voice runs hoarse, fighting through the pain in your ankle, and eventually, Minho draws closer and closer, collapsing in the middle of the field. His back is turned to you, and he ducks his head, avoiding your gaze.

You think he’ll run away when you approach him, but he remains lifeless, as still as a statue. Crouching down beside him, you lift his chin, turning his face up to you, a gasp caught in your throat at what you find.

There’s something wrong with his eyes. They shift from the dark brown irises you’d come to know to hollow pools of black. His face is smeared with blood, and his breathing is shallow.

“____, you have to go, I’m turning, it’s not safe, I’m not safe–,” Minho grabs your arm, looking at you with desperation in his eyes. His speech is garbled, but you can hear the gentle tone of his voice still trapped inside. He’s still Minho.

“How dare you tell me to run,” you hiss at him. “How dare you tell me to leave?”

“You don’t understand,” he growls, hands shaking in rage. “I’m a monster!”

Fear strikes you at the realization that something was very wrong with him, something neither you or him had ever been able to anticipate. But it’s overcome by a stronger, more profound emotion.

“I don’t care,” you take his face in your hands again. “I love you, Minho. I loved you through the world ending, and I’ll love you through this. Because your life is mine now, just like mine is yours. It’s our second chance. And we will do whatever it takes to survive.”

Minho clasps your hands in his, fingertips rubbing against your knuckles, and you smile when you notice that his eyes are normal again, no longer filled with darkness. Maybe there was a chance.

“We’ll head west,” Minho rests his forehead against yours, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “I saw a hospital nearby. Maybe there are other survivors, people just like us.”

You nod, throwing your arms around him and burying your head into the crook of his neck. The two of you would exit west as soon as the sun rose, ready to start a new journey together.

Perhaps the life you shared was far from perfect but you realized that you’d clutched onto it as desperately as him, because he was the only thing you had. You were each other’s home.

a/n pt. 2: As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

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undeadcannibal · 9 months

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Could you maybe do 141+ Alejandro finding out their 'citizen' partner was actually an ex-mercenary?

Summary: How Task Force 141 and Alejandro would react to finding out their ‘civilian’ partner is an ex mercenary.

Genre: Headcanons, request(s) Characters featured: Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, and Alejandro.

Warnings: None!

A/N: Hopefully I didn’t make this like, sadder than wanted lol. It just sorta happened. Regardless, thank you so much for the request, I hope y’all enjoy! ( Gif credit: xxx )

Price―

He’s embarrassed it takes him so long to notice the signs, but when he does, he doesn’t say a word.

He’ll act normal the entire time, playing the part of your lovely partner until he’s got enough information. The proof that he needs before calling you out on it.

When he’s certain of your past, he’s waiting till he’s home to call you out on it. May or may not have the team on stand by as well just in case he needs backup and morale support.

He’ll at least try and hear you out first, ask you many questions as to why you hid it, turning the situation into a sort of soft interrogation with how he goes about things in time.

He wants to believe you have a good reason, so rest assured you better have a damn good one as to why you hid what you hid from him.

Caught between wanting to know every detail of what you did and why, but also worries that he might not like the answer he receives.

Soap―

At first, he tries to convince himself he’s just being paranoid. Imagining things that aren’t true.

Over time, he’s certain that there’s too many instances for them all to be coincidental.

Doesn’t approach the situation alone, definitely trusts Ghost to hear him out, asking him for his opinion on the matter.

The two go about the situation together, but once he’s sure that you were definitely an ex ‘merc’, he’s taking it very seriously.

At first, he’d be livid but slowly come to realize that maybe he should hear you out. He really wants to give you the benefit of the doubt, believe you’ve done what you did for a good reason.

Much like Price, he’ll have a long talk with you before making any rash decisions or jumping to conclusions.

Has many, many questions about what you got up to for a paycheck and why exactly. Especially since he’s heard rumors about how ruthless some can be after some time in the ‘business’.

Gaz―

Much like Soap, I can see him being a bit in denial until there’s too many instances to deny anymore.

However, instead of consulting Ghost, he’s going straight to Price. He trusts him - confides in him - and asks him what he should do regarding the situation.

After Price gives him his opinion on the matter, he’s leaving to be alone to think for a long while on it.

Once he’s made up his mind, he’ll try and act normal, but it’s clear something is bothering him.

If you ask about it before he confronts you, he’ll be upfront about what he’s thinking and how he’s feeling, asking you many questions about why you hid it from him, etc.

Depending on the outcome, it may or may not be a deal breaker for him. He’s unsure what to think, how to feel about your relationship. Just confused and paranoid all around, poor man.

Like Alejandro, he hopes it’s all in the past, and for good reason, too.

Ghost―

Oh, once he notices the signs, he’s feeling all sorts of things: he’s livid, conflicted, and very untrustworthy of you after.

Stewing on the information by his lonesome for longer than he should, he hesitates with bringing it to the team’s attention. Feels ashamed he didn’t know sooner.

Once he’s got information regarding your background, he’s immediately heading home to confront you about your past.

Feels a heavy weight on his heart as the two of you discuss everything. He’s not letting you leave till you’ve told him every detail as to why you hid it from him.

Depending on how the confrontation goes, it could possibly be a deal breaker for him. He doesn’t trust and love easily, so best believe it’ll take some time for him to come back around to you once again. He won’t be entirely cold, but you’ll definitely have to earn his trust back afterwards.

Wants to assume you’ve done what you did for good reasons but can’t say unless he knows what your past work was.

Alejandro―

Much like Ghost, due to personal reasons, once he sniffs out any sort of hints that you're an ex merc, he’s doing his best not to immediately assume the worst right away.

He really wants to hear you out but will struggle with confronting you.

After he’s found every little bit of information of your past that he can, he’s hesitating on making a scene right away.

Confides and wants to know Rudy’s honest opinion no matter how harsh he might think it will be.

Really, unless you’re upfront with him after he finally brings it up with you, he’ll worry about your past depending on what kind of work you’ve done for pay. Hopes to God that you’ve certain limitations you refuse to go against.

#call of duty x reader #ghost x reader #john price x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #task force 141 x reader #cod headcanons #headcanons #requests #my writing #the-faceless-bride #thefacelessbride

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a-small-writer-in-a-big-world · 1 year

Note

ok, well, take your time! I don’t mind the wait!

141+ Alejandro with a reader who shows their love through aggressiveness? Like, their way of saying “i love you” is “sleep with one eye open tonight, bitch”

or “shut up or I’ll punch you” but in reality, they would die for said person, and would also kill for said person.

probably HAS killed for said person.

this is totally not a self indulgent ask, what would lead you to that conclusion?!?!?

…

it might be a bit self indulgent

So like, I’m kind of this way I’m very much a person who finds being vulnerable difficult so this shouldn’t be too hard lol

Aggressively Affectionate Reader with 141 + Alejandro

Price

Firstly, never think that you could ever scare this man off with how aggressive you can be. He's a military captain, aggressiveness doesn't bother the man at all

Has gotten used to your "threats" as you call them, he knows you would never hurt him

"If you don't go bed, I'm beating your ass." You threatened from the door way of his office.

"Give me ten more minutes, love." He said without looking up at his reports.

He appreciates every little thing you do for him and finds it somehow sweet that you do it with aggressiveness

If you slam a coffee down in front of him, grumbling that you won't do it again when you do it everyday, he'll give you a kiss on the cheek or a quick squeeze on your hand

Knows when you're actually angry or when you're just your usual grumpy self

He let's you know that you don't always have to be guarded around him and makes sure you feel safe enough to vulnerable when you want to be

Likes your soft moments just as much as he likes your normal moments

Ghost

Being military, your aggressiveness doesn't make him nervous but it does put him off at first

Coming from a not so great background, he doesn't appreciate being talked down to or threatened so if you want to be with him, you need to make it clear that you're not actually threatening him

When he figures it out, he's a lot less on edge especially since you have toned it down for his sake

You're still aggressive towards him but in very different way.

“Shut up and let me help you.” You demanded as you grabbed the med kit.

“Did you just tell me to shut up, sergeant?” He narrowed his eyes at you but let you patch him up.

Has had to tell you multiple times not to pick fights with people who get on his nerves though he likes to know that you have a his back

Will definitely call you out if you’re being too mean and won’t stand for any mistreatment if you start to get mad

In his mind, he associates you with a cat and has called you one multiple times just to watch you send him glares

Soap

He's friends with Ghost, so he's used to cold or aggressive people and of course being in the military he's not phased at all buy it

You don't intimidate him, in fact any time you threat him he makes a similar threat back just to one up you and to see what your reaction will be

"I'm going to shave that stupid mohawk off your head." You groaned when you saw him back on base since leave.

"Do that and I’ll lock ya out of your room." He kissed your forehead with a smile.

He knows you always have his back when you're both out on the field and he always has your back.

Had watched you kill people who have hurt him or tried to in some pretty violent ways but it makes him feel safe

Sometimes you do hurt his feelings but he’s not afraid to tell you that you did and when he does you usually apologize, making sure to try not to let it happen again

"I hate you."

"I love you too."

Gaz

Again military, so he’s used to it and honestly he doesn’t even really notice it anymore

You could say the most outlandishly rude thing to him without actually meaning it and he wouldn’t bat an eye

He just shows you affection by hugging or kissing you on the cheek when you do it and likes that it makes you get more mad at him

“Stop or I’ll punch you.” You threaten as he placed another kiss on your neck.

“Go ahead and try.” He just buries his face into your neck more.

If anyone dares to say that you don’t care about anyone but especially him then he will be your number one defender.

He hates that people don’t understand that this is just how you express yourself and they you’re not actually trying to be hurtful

Worries a lot about how you have tendency to get yourself into trouble when you’re both of missions together and makes sure you understand that he would never forgive you if you died saving him

(he would forgive you eventually)

Alejandro

Nothing you could ever say will take away the heart eyes he has when he looks at you

Like Gaz, he’s so used to it that when you aren’t being aggressively affectionate with him he’s incredibly worried that something horrible happened to you

“Do not make me come over there.” You threatened as you pointed the knife you were sharping at him.

“What if I want you over here, mi vida?” He smirked as he looked you up at down.

When you do something for him, such as cook for him or get him coffee, he returns the gestures twice as much and it makes you even more aggressively affectionate

You two sound like you’re always arguing but you’re really just having a normal conversation, that’s just how it is

He is always alert when you’re on missions with him because he knows that you lay your life down for him and he’s not about to let you die on his watch

Sorry this took so long! Hope you like <3

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hunterbunter3000 · 11 months

Note

Okay so, since Krueger is obsessed with Sweetheart. Does that make him a Yandere? I mean like after he first met her and is with her like lost puppy. Does one of the men’s notice his behavior?

Oh damn... I guess so? 🫢🫢🤔🤔🤔🤔 he does have yandere tendencies. Wow I guess I made him a Yandere 😭😭 BUT LIKE-- HE WOULDNT KILL JUST BECAUSE?? like "just because you talked to Sweetheart I wouldn't kill you immediately, I would just threaten you and be intimidating so you can back off and not make a move on my future wife." But if you hurt Sweetheart then yeah you're done. DONE.

And he isn’t the type to be “if I can’t have you, no one can” and kill off Sweetheart, or be the type to lock her in the basement or have sadistic punishments. GOD NO

He would throw up if he ever tHOUGHT of hurting Sweetheart like that. (He has gotten on his knees, legit sobbing like he lost a family member, and apologizing to her because he slapped her when she accidentally startled him— it was a reflex and Sweets understood but Kruger did not stop crying. And then he bought her a designer purse 💀) he’s just a really big love drunk guy that treats his future love like a fucking goddess.

He listens to Sweetheart only, (and Graves I guess because thats his boss) so whatever she says goes. She says to leave her alone? Alright I'll give you some space. (Even tho he would be crying) she says to beat up that guy cause he disrespected her capitan? Done and done. She says to stop threatening strangers that come up to her? ...eehhhh that's gonna be hard, but I'll do it.

He does it because he wants to please her. Like a lot.

It’s unhealthy how attached he is to her, but he’s still respectful. He doesn’t want to lose her, but he also doesn’t want to be alone anymore. Does that even make sense lol

But yeah, I guess he is a yandere. BUT LIKE A SOFT YANDERE WHO UNDERSTANDS SOME BOUNDARIES

And good lord, everyone notices every time Krueger is around. Especially König (since they're step-brothers in this) König has always seen Krueger act like this, but not to a person, so it was shocking to see that happen.

He's so restless and snappy when Sweetheart isn't around and always asks where she is and why she isn't here yet. And one time, Ghost is like "Calm down mate. She's just running some errands." And Krueger just tenses, and you can see in his body language that he's getting angry. "By herself? You let her go by herself!? Where? Which store!? Fuck!" And he storms out of the lounging area. That was when they all knew that Krueger had a different kind of love for Sweetheart. And was waaayyyyy different than them. They feel a bit awkward with him because they know he's unhinged and a bit psycho, especially when it comes to Sweetheart. He's a very skilled soldier and will not hesitate to rip and tear everyone that is around her in a heartbeat. And they know Krueger's distain towards them, except with Ghost, Roach and König, Krueger just toys around with him like the annoying big brother he is. With Ghost, he's kind of friends with because he knows that Ghost will sacrifice everything for Sweetheart just like him. And they also have somethings in common- like torturing people and watching football. (soccer) With Roach, Krueger likes him because he's quiet and has sadistic tendencies when it comes to fighting enemies.

(He doesn't like when Roach hangs off of Sweetheart tho)

He gets jealous and irritated easily when he doesn't get his way when Sweetheart is around them. Like with Soap, he HATES Soap so much omfg- that is his enemy. He sees how close they are to each other and sees how Soap touches her and vice versa (he has many violent fantasies when it comes to Soap. König knows about this and purposely makes him avoid the two when they are together) those two butt heads CONSTANTLY

Like one more word from that Scottish dumbass and he will put him under bro 💀

They see how clingy Krueger is when she gets back from a mission, especially a solo mission omg

He would just hug her from behind and sway back and forth, his hood draping over her head as well as his (the hood that she made him is huge) and Soap can hear him whisper praises to her and her giggles. He can also hear Krueger kissing Sweetheart. Where? He doesn't know. Hopefully, not on the lips. WHY ARE THEY SO CUTE TO ME WTFF

And Krueger will not. Let. Her go. AT ALL. Like if he comes over to their side of the base, Krueger takes allllll of the attention from her (I talked about this before) especially if they're taking a nap together, like he's sitting on the couch with Sweetheart cradled in his lap, asleep on his broad shoulder as his arms hold her. Gaz fucking hates when they take naps together, especially when he sees their breathing in sync (Like FUCK OFF) So one time, Gaz was sick of it. He reaches for Sweetheart but Krueger tightens his hold on her, and he growls so fucking low and animalistic like a damn rabid dog protecting its owner-- it legit scared him. (Especially when you can't see his face 💀) And Krueger just says, "mine." In the lowest voice Gaz has ever heard-- he just backs up and leaves (AND WASN'T HE SUPPOSED TO BE ASLEEP??? LIKE IS HE MAGICAL-)

Krueger is something else yall 💀 can't wait to write more of him with Sweetheart 🤭🤭

#hes delulu yall #and a soft yandere too i guess LOL #DIDNT EVEN NOTICE IT AT FIRST TBH #sebastian krueger x reader #krueger x reader #call of duty #sebastian krueger #black fem reader #cod x y/n #141 sweetheart #141 sweetheart x krueger #hunter's ask lounge ☕️

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lowkeyrobin · 26 days

Note

can i request some trevor spengler with a medium s/o?? like they’ve been seeing and talking with ghosts their entire life and are so used to seeing them it doesn’t phase s/o anymore?

ooooo okay okay ; thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy!!! ; sorry this is so short, I just didn't have many ideas but I made sure to give you something lol

TREVOR SPENGLER ; medium

summary ; youre a medium, and it worries trevor a bit that you're 100% used to talking to ghosts and ghouls

warnings ; language

word count ; 313

masterlist

"Oooo, that's cool! What else?" You ask the ghost in front of you, watching the little girl talk about stories from her living childhood.

Trevor runs into your room, then stops himself, hand still on the door handle as he lays his eyes on you, then the ghost.

You quickly turn your head to look at him. "Oh, hey, what's up Trev?"

He's silent, looking between you and the little ghost girl.

"Uh..."

"Oh, uh, sorry"

You quickly stand up and take Trevor into the hallway.

"Everything okay?"

He nods, "Yeah, uh, just wanted to see if you wanted to get lunch with me"

"Oh, yeah, sure"

literally will never catch him off gaurd when you're talking to ghosts

or when you're trying to calm ghosts down and trust you to come with you guys or make it easier to trap them

you feel bad if you're trapping them tho cause like all that trust for what

ghost animals :(

you talked to his childhood cat once because its been following the spenglers around and he started BAWLING when he saw

you didn't know it was his cat until you saw him standing in the door watching you. after that you both cried together and played with the cat

so there's a sweet little ghost cat haunting the firestation now

you'll see ghosts that others can't see on the streets and just kinda try to figure out what time period they're from and shit

when it comes to ghouls, you normally just play with them because they want attention and that's why they wreak havoc, they just don't understand the consequences to their actions

trevor thinks it's super cool that you talk to ghosts and shit tho

he asks a lot of questions about your childhood and stuff cause he's curious

introduces you like "this is y/n, they're like a medium and can talk to ghosts and stuff"

#lowkeyrobin #ghostbusters frozen empire #ghostbusters afterlife #ghostbusters x reader #trevor spengler x reader #trevor spengler #finn wolfhard x reader #finn wolfhard #gn!reader #gender neutral reader #gn reader #they/them reader

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vodika-vibes · 1 month

Note

Congrats on the 500 followers! It is well deserved!

For my request :)

Gemstone: Ruby or sapphire. Your choice!

Partner: I’m going to have to go with Echo. He’s one of my favourites.

Season: I’ve always loved sunset in the fall because of all of the colours.

I have no thoughts as to where this would go so have fun with it :)

Congratulations again! Thank you so much for doing requests!

Sunset Kisses

Summary: Sunset has always been your favorite time of day, luckily Echo agrees.

Pairing: TBB Echo x GN!Reader

Word Count: 575

Prompt: Ruby - Passionate Love

Warnings: Echo got possessed by the ghost of Fives or Jesse or both and made a very innuendo-y comment.

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Thank you for your request! I hope this story makes you happy, because it basically sprang from my fingers fully written, lol.

Honestly, you weren’t planning on spending your evening sitting on a rock and watching the sunset over the water, but here you are anyway. You’ve always loved watching the sunset, even when you were a child, and now that it's fall, the setting sun paints the skies in pinks and purples and oranges-

It speaks to the artist deep in your heart.

Shame you don’t have the time to put paint on a canvas anymore.

You lean back, casting your gaze out over the water, allowing all of the stress of the day to fade away, just for a moment.

“Have room for one more?”

You tilt your head to the side, and a small smile plays on your lips when you see Echo standing there, “Didn’t know you liked watching the sunset, Echo. You seem a bit…steady for that.”

It’s not an insult, and he seems amused by your comment, “Well, how can I not when it’s so pretty?” Though he keeps his gaze locked on you, and you feel yourself flush.

“Well, there’s plenty of room, if you don’t mind being close.” You reply with a small smile.

He climbs up onto the boulder with ease, and settles next to you, your thighs pressed together. Echo doesn’t, technically, need to be so close, there is enough room that he doesn’t have to be pressed against you, but you don’t mind.

It’s Echo after all.

And you’ve been crushing on him for weeks.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye. The sunset is painting him in gold and you’re pretty sure you’ve never seen anything more gorgeous in your life.

Seeing this, you can understand why people believe in the divine.

His lips curl up, “You’re staring, mesh’la.”

“Ah! Sorry!” Your gaze snaps back to the water, though you glance at him when he laughs.

“I don’t mind,” He bumps you with his shoulder, “Though, I’m curious to hear what you’re thinking?”

“Um…nothing interesting.” You say sheepishly.

“Well, I definitely don’t believe that.” He bumps you again, “Come on, I won’t make fun of you, I promise.”

You definitely don’t want to have this conversation, but he’s so sweet-

You groan and press your hands over your burning face, “I was thinking that you look like a god when bathed in the gold of the setting sun. Please don’t laugh at me.”

Echo doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and you take a moment to glance at him from between your fingers. He looks stunned, and then a slow grin crosses his face, “Funny,” He says slowly, “Because I was thinking something very similar about you.”

“...wait, what-”

You’re not able to get anything else out because his lips are pressed heavily against yours. His hand comes up to press against your cheek, pulling you closer and closer, the kiss becoming more and more heated the longer it lasts.

And when he breaks the kiss and presses his forehead against yours, you’re kind of breathless, and surprised. But there’s a little grin playing on his lips. “I was thinking,” Echo murmurs as his fingers trail down your throat, “Why don’t I walk you home?”

You tilt your head questioningly.

“That way I can worship you the way divinity is supposed to be worshiped.” His smile becomes sly, “On my knees.”

Your face heats, but you can’t pull your gaze away from his, “I think,” You mumble, “That sounds wonderful.”

#star wars #tbb #vodika-vibes 500 followers celebration #tbb echo x reader #echo x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #gn!reader fic #answered asks

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i-smoke-chapstick · 2 months

Text

‘ART DECO,

-GOTHAM!OSWALDCOBBLEPOT X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; oswald goes feral for your thighs…and whats in between them.

⋆ tags/warnings. small GOTHAM!oswald x female reader. SMUT!!!! like, this is PURE porn. Might make a series of just gotham villains eating reader out lol. also oswald being an unintentional god at oral sex.

♫ “You're not mean, you just want to be seen. / Baby, you’re so ghetto. / You’re crazy all the time.” Art Deco by Lana Del Rey

𝛰𝑆𝑊𝐴𝐿𝐷 𝐶𝛰𝐵𝐵𝐿𝐸𝑃𝛰𝑇

He always starts out so so slow. Too slow- almost unsure. He’s inbetween your legs after a long day- you’d think he’d want to be the one on the recieving end, but you realize now how foolish the assumption is. After all his planning, his busywork, his anger…he just wants to take it out. And you, his one true love, get to reap the benefits. He needs spoil you. Put all his energy into something more productive, rather than another god foresaken tantrum.

It takes his mind off it all. And it always starts out innocent. Him- mindlessly ranting about his plans for the city’s underground. The range from his bragging about his new ideas; whether it be teaming up with the GCPD or Pax Penguina. He speaks earnestly, head resting in your lap- just between your thighs. He buries himself in them. A comforting pillow, he says, and he feels a rush of euphoria whenever he gets to touch you. The love of his life. The only person he can trust. It’s far better than any simple hug in the begginning of your relationship.

It morphs into something more carnal the more you shift underneath him. At first he finds it irksome, how you cant just stay still.

“Would you stop that?” He huffs, exhaling roughly as his voice cuts through the air. You hardly pay any attention at this point, having stopped a few minutes ago. Lost in thought, he finally lifts his head up to look at you. “Y/N?” He prompts, expression a mix of concerned and annoyed.

You look back down at him, humming in response. He rolls his eyes- petulant little thing. “As I was saying…”He moves to speak, head moving back, when you thread your hands through his hair. His breath catches in his throat and he looks back at you. The annoyed expression is wiped off his pretty face, replaced with one of flustered surprise. His hair scrunches underneath your fingers; the by product of styling.

He just looks at you, slack jawed, and you only push him closer to where you need him. He quickly closes his mouth, blinking. You already know what he’s thinking. That you’re obscene. But he simply doesn’t mind, no, he’s glad for the invitation.

“Right now?” He always asks, a bit ruffled, in the middle of his ranting. It comes out in a soft whisper.

“Please?” You ask, looking into his blue green eyes. They always shine in the flourescence. He doesn’t respond, simply pursing his lips; still a bit surprised, but far from angry.

He finds the confidence in himself to lay his head back down, keeping the eye contact. He shifts himself in between your thighs, and in an angonizingly slow movement, presses his nose and lips to the soft plush of your skin.

He lays a kiss, just barely the ghost of one. A soft peck at first, before his eyes depart from yours. You sigh contently as his attention fixes entirely to your thighs, kisses pressed gently and peppered all over the skin. As you urge him with your hand threaded in his hair, his lips become more and more earnest. You know he’s ready to go further when he gets rougher, wet sounds of his lip sucking a near bruise into your thighs.

He looks up at you through lidded eyes, and he’s a bit too nervous to ask the question out right- but he doesn’t have to. You simply nod, hand urging him further and further.

He sighs into your skin, and his finger tips shake as they pull down the scuff of your lace panties. You swallow as the cool air of the bedroom hits your clit- and the feeling of his hot breath against it. He’s not staring at you anymore- eyes fully fixed on your vulva beneath him.

His shakey breath makes you impatient- and you find yourself pushing him down once again. He hesitates- but quickly goes to work.

It starts off with one long lick, his tongue peering out to savor the strip of skin between your legs. The feeling makes you shudder- and it fills him with confidence. God- he can taste you, smell you. It’s intoxicating.

“So wet…” He mumbles, and you don’t even think he grasps the sheer eroticism in his words. You swallow, and in an instant, his tongue comes out again- string of saliva falling onto your cunt.

He chooses to tease you one final time- tongue massaging the wetness into the skin around your folds, going everywhere except where you really need him. You let a soft whine escape your lips, and it spurs him on. You’re feeding his ego, as if it isnt already big enough. A small grin spreads across his face.

He finally puts his tongue to good use, dipping into your folds. He sucks gently, tenderly. His head bobs up at down as he focuses- and just as he’s done all the previous times, feeds off the praise in your moans. With more confidence and earnesty, he becomes a fucking god at eating you. And he doesn’t even know it.

He flicks at your clit with his tongue at an almost inhuman speed, switching between sucking and kissing the entirety of you with his mouth to focusing directly on your clit. Your thighs clenching around his throat makes his head spin. You don’t need to touch him to know his cock is throbbing- mindlessly grinding down into the bed for any friction he can get.

His saliva is soaking you, and you cant help but pull his hair as your eyes roll back into your head. Wet and sloppy noises fill the room as he presses both his nose and lips into your cunt. It’s positivley sinful- the way he rocks his head against you. His hands come to push your thighs even further into the mattress, and you remember how strong he really is against you. His movements speed up.

Faster and faster and faster. Harder and harder and harder.

His tongue is going at a rapid pace, sucking eagerly at your tender flesh and swollen clit. You feel your orgasm coming over you in short spasms before release hits you like a tidal wave. He’s still eating you like his last meal- oblivious to your screams of pleasure. He’s lost in his own.

As you cum beneath him, he refuses to let go of your thighs. Pushing you further and further into the bed. Selfish in everything he does, this is no exception. It’s almost dehumanizing now- you’re almost nothing but a meal to him to be savored.

He doesn’t stop until you struggle out of his hold, begging between sobs of pleasure and pain from the sheer overstimulation of it all. You have to damn near rip his hair out, pulling him back with a loud pop off your sopping wet cunt.

He pants as he finally looks up to you, noticing the tears in your eyes from the indulgence of it all. His tongue is still slack out his mouth, dripping with your juices and his spit. Those blue green eyes looking almost innocently up at you, like he didn’t just tongue fuck the life out of you.

You almost want to laugh- but the only sound that comes out is the rushed breathing and pants between the two of you. Your thighs are wet with your slick, and both of you are shuddering. You can tell he wants to apologize, for going to far, for the overstimulation. But nothing comes out of his mouth. You can see the bruising imprints of his hands into your thighs, and he lets go almost instantly.

A satisfying thought slips into your mind as his tongue darts to lick his lips.

You’ll do it all again tommorrow.

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deardjarin · 10 months

Text

needs and wants

dom!gn!reader x sub!roman roy

rating: explicit

words: 1.3k

warnings: degradation, slight praise kink, hand jobs (m receiving), poor communication, iffy feelings about sex

a/n: im only about halfway through season 2 so my roman might be a little ooc, just ignore that lol. finished up episode 5 and said I CAN FIX HIM and wrote this.

⋆⭑✦⭑⋆

Roman looks wrecked at the end of the night.

He’s sweat out his gel, leaving his hair sticking out in different directions. His suit jacket has been discarded, his tie loosened and his sleeves rolled up.

There’s no denying it; you definitely have the hots for him.

Roman whistles as the apartment door shuts behind you with a soft click. He throws his wallet and keys on the granite countertop while you fumble taking your shoes off.

“Can we have sex?”

You stop, looking up from where you stand. Roman’s eyes are wide, brows raised in question.

“Wow, that’s very romantic,” You snort, striding forward to your partner. You let Roman take you into his arms, kissing down your neck and swaying you to the side. You kiss him, gentle at first, but he seems eager, gripping the back of your neck and pulling you closer. You make out for a while, until your legs are numb from standing.

“Actually,” Roman says between kisses. “What if we just…touched each other instead. Something lame that teenagers do.”

You smooth Roman’s hair back out of his eyes.

“That’s what you want, baby?” You mutter, tracing the line of his jaw with your finger.

“I think I was pretty clear—“

Roman yelps as you grab his wrist, pulling him towards the expensive leather couch. He scrambles to turn off the table lamp, plunging the living room into darkness. You sit down with a huff, spreading your legs and patting the space between them. Roman is all too eager to sit down, back towards you.

“That’s it, just lean back, Rome.”

Roman’s breath hitches slightly as he leans back against your chest, his body still tense with apprehension. You take some time to run your fingers over the exposed skin of his forearm. Your lips hover over the crease of his neck, not yet touching, but lightly ghosting over the skin there.

“Poor Roman Roy,” You begin, voice barely a whisper. “You have everything, yet no one knows how to take care of you. No one knows how to give you what you want.”

Roman whines your name, tilting his head slightly to the side.

“Can you just—I don’t know, get on with it already?” He grumbles, trying to be his demanding, asshole self. Quickly, you reach up and tangle your fingers in his hair, yanking the gelled strands harshly.

“I’m sorry, you don’t get to make demands anymore,” You hiss in his ear, pausing for a moment. “Brat.”

Roman’s mouth drops open in a soundless moan, his trembling hands scrambling at your thighs. You finally let your lips connect with his neck, biting and nipping at the skin there.

“If you want something, you’ll have to ask. Nicely,” You tug on his hair again for emphasis. You can tell Roman is trying to make up his mind, deciding between keeping up his facade or falling victim to your demands.

“I want you to touch me,” He finally says without an edge to his request.

“Mm,” You hum, moving one hand down to caress the clothed inner part of his thigh. You feel the muscle flex under your hand. “I need you to be more specific, Roman. Where do you want me to touch you?”

You wait as Roman swallows nervously, bouncing his leg up and down and up and down.

“My cock,” He whispers, his voice wavering with… embarrassment? “I want you to touch my cock. Please.”

In the darkness of the room, you smile devilishly before turning Roman’s face towards yours. You kiss him gently, reveling in the soft press of his lips against yours. He leans into your touch, desperate for more. Before you give him too much satisfaction, you pull away; your spit slick lips brush the shell of his ear.

“Good boy.”

You’re surprised Roman doesn’t explode in your arms right then and there; he makes a sound that’s a mix between a moan and a whimper. You release his hair, reaching around his torso to begin unbuckling his belt. His hips jolt when you accidentally brush against his raging hard-on.

“Unbutton your shirt for me, baby,” You order, not bothering to pull his belt from the loops of his jeans. “If you’re okay with that.”

“Y-yes, yeah, fuck,” Roman stammers, and for a second you expect some sort of honorific to fall out of his mouth. Hell, you should make him, but you don’t want to push it. You unbutton Roman’s slacks as he does the same with his dress shirt; you squeeze the thick length of his cock through his thin boxers. He moans loudly—unabashedly—and grabs your forearm.

“Pathetic,” You growl, taking the band of his boxers and tucking it under his balls. You hold out your hand expectantly. “Spit.”

“What?” Roman retorts, frozen against your touch.

“You heard me. Spit.”

His breaths are heavy as he purses his lips and spits in your hand. You hum in appreciation before wrapping your slick hand around his cock. He’s hot and heavy in your hand, already wet with precum.

“Rome,” You breathe, unable to contain the moan escaping from your throat. Roman thrusts up into your hand, whimpering your name. You stroke upwards, tightening your fist around the head of his cock.

“Oh, fuck,” Roman moans, and you feel him throb in your hand. “S’good.”

“I’m sure. For someone so needy, anything probably feels good,” You mutter as you continue jerking him off. You kiss his jaw, his stubble scraping your cheek.

“Fuck off,” Roman curses, yelping when you bite at his neck.

“I told you to be good,” You snap, removing your hand from his length completely. A string of curses spill from his lips as he grips your thighs.

“Look, I’m sorry, I am,” He insists, craning his neck so he can give you a messy kiss. Not one to deny your own satisfaction, you kiss him back. Roman pulls apart a few times to continue apologizing. “I’ll be good, I promise, just—I want to cum.”

Finally, you’ve gotten him to drop his bullshit persona.

“Roman Roy, using his words,” You coo, grasping his cock again, beginning to pump him at a faster pace. Roman moans loudly, digging his heels into the hardwood floor. All you can hear are the slick sounds of your hand on him and his moans. You use your free hand to grasp at his chest, pinching one of his nipples. You alternate between slow, tight strokes and squeezing the base of his cock. You take your thumb and tease the angry red head, pressing into his slit.

“Shit,” Roman hisses, squirming in your grasp. “Oh fuck, babe, I’m gonna cum. P-Please let me cum, m’not gonna last—“

“Cum for me, Roman, make a mess,” You demand, and Roman’s cock twitches one, twice, before spurting thick ropes of cum over your hand and across his chest. You continue pumping him through his orgasm until he mumbles something about being too sensitive. You kiss his cheek gently, letting him tuck his softening cock back into his pants. The two of you sit in silence for a while, listening to the muffled sounds of the city through the window. You’re about to make a comment, or move Roman so you can wash your hands, but you’re stopped when you hear the man sniffle.

“Woah, hey,” You say softly, using your clean hand to tilt Roman’s face towards yours. It’s hard to see, but the moonlight illuminates the tears streaked across his face. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just a fucking pussy,” Roman snorts.

You don’t laugh, just shake your head sadly.

“Come on, Rome. I—“ You pause, fumbling over your words. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“Last time I checked most men don’t cry like a fuckin’ baby the second they get some.”

You punch Roman in the shoulder lightly, huffing out a chuckle.

“I don’t care about most men. I like you, dumbass,” You say, brushing shoulders with the man.

“Never thought you stoop so low to sappiness,” Roman quips, his usual joking tone returning to his voice. “I have to piss.”

You tut lightly, watching him stumble off to the bathroom. Your heart pinches. You lean over and flick on the light.

#deardjarin fics #roman roy x reader #roman roy x reader smut #roman roy smut #succession fanfic #idk what else to put here #tag moment

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captain-mj · 1 year

Note

That memory loss fic has done me in. I’m on my knees, captain. A part 2 would make my week <3

I've seen the requests and I got you guys!! Was planning on this being the last part, but uh... it got rather long lol.

Price had escaped relatively unscathed despite how hard that punch was. Soap wasn’t too surprised, Price was very tough. It didn’t stop Graves from fussing over him.

“Uh, Captain?” He knocked and interrupted them. “Ghost is still...”

Price sighed, sitting back in his seat. “Any luck figuring out what’s going on?”

“Yes, actually. He thinks he’s been with a Roba for four months. Thought I heard you two mention the name before.”

Price visibly paled a little. “Ah. That’s not good. That’s not good at all.”

“Who is he?”

“Cartel leader a few years back. He had several soldiers taken. Experimentation, brainwashing, conditioning. It was nasty. Simon ended up the only person surviving it.”

Graves stood up. “I don’t think Ghost would want me around for this. I’ll see you two later.” He kissed Price’s cheek, punched Soap’s shoulder and left.

Soap nodded at him before continuing. “He thinks he’s four months in. He’s paranoid, not as much as I was expecting though. Let me give him a drink and only bit me once.”

Price nodded. “He’s not going to wear a mask like this. He didn’t back then. It would explain why he reacted that way in the van.”

Soap nodded. “Couldn’t see our faces.”

“I meant the skulls. Roba wore skull face paint. Had all his men wear it too. Not to mention a couple of other nasty memories. It’s why Ghost wears it. Symbol of fear for him.” Price sighed. “Did you try explaining?”

Soap was a little caught up in the information he was just given. He didn’t understand why Ghost would wear something that would remind him of his past like that.

“I told him he lost his memories and he said that’s a new form of brainwashing. Basically brushed me off. Gets real upset when you call him Ghost to. He also... made a couple concerning comments.... He mentioned a Lady. I said I’d reward him if he’d work with me and he said he didn’t want the Lady. Didn’t really specify. You know anything about that?”

“No. I’ll tell the nurses though. We’ll keep women from going in there alone, just in case. Doubt he’ll attack them, but we don’t want him anymore scared than necessary.” Price shook his head. “I hope we get this figured out soon. If not, he might have to go on leave and possibly discharged.”

Soap knew what that meant. If it goes on, Simon will disappear. He wasn’t technically alive. They’d be dumping him on the street.

“Sir, I’m aware that Ghost doesn’t have any living family.”

“Don’t tell him.” Price said immediately. “I’ll make sure everyone knows. We need to make sure he does not find out.”

“Why not? If he doesn’t wake up and he knows we lied...”

“Soap, that is a very valid worry. But Ghost right now is a very big flight risk. I’m... Simon will try to commit. He did it the first time he found out and he tried twice our first month of working together. He’s fragile. He can be pissed at us later. Right now, we have enough problems without needing him on suicide watch.” Price whispered it to him and Soap’s stomach turned.

“What do you mean tried to commit?? You’re telling me a man with three suicide attempts is allowed in the fucking army?” Soap hissed at Price. Besides the rules and regulations around those things, if Ghost really did try and Price just fucking let him go back. Let him on the field with big guns and plenty of opportunities to fucking die. Soap gritted his teeth to Keep himself quiet.

“Look, he’s legally dead. I know it’s hard to understand, but when he wasn’t let back in, he went to Mexico himself and destroyed an entire cartel single handedly. You want him walking the streets? Near civilians? Yes, in the beginning, he struggled. Was convinced he was dead. That he had never crawled out of the graves. Used to say and do shit that concerned me. He’s better.”

“Better? He wears a mask constantly and avoids conversation like the plague.”

“You didn’t see it.” Price suddenly sounded very far away. “I’m worried you’re about to, but you didn’t see it. You think Ghost is fucked up now? He walked around like a goddamn corpse. He found his family murdered only a few months after being tortured and buried alive. I feel like all things considered, he’s better than most.”

Soap was still angry. So goddamn angry. He just didn’t think it was directed at Price. “When was the last time he... attempted?”

“Over a year ago. He’s been clean since. I check him occasionally.” Price sighed. “I... need you to keep an eye on him. He won’t be as slippery as he is now, not as experienced, but he’s smart as hell.” He shook his head lightly.

“Will do, sir.”

“Soap, I know you two are close. I trust you, okay? Be careful with him.”

“Yes, sir.”

Price shook his head and looked away. Soap could see the exhaustion sound like the plague.

“How long did they have him?”

“Seven months.” Price sighed.

Soap nodded and then left Price’s office. He made his way straight to Ghost who was asleep now. One of the nurses smiled awkwardly.

“Gave him some drugs in his iv. Sedative and a painkiller.”

“Thought you weren’t supposed to sleep with a head wound?”

“Only when you first get them. He’ll be fine.” The nurse reassured. “You can sit with him as long as you want.” She took her leave and he settled next to Ghost again.

Soap hesitated before leaving for just a moment to grab his sketching tools. With his sketchbook and pencils, he started to sketch him. He so rarely got him maskless like this. He drew him with a loving amount of detail, including each scar and fleck on his skin. It passed the time as he waited for him to wake up.

After a moment, he reached over carefully and felt under his shirt, feeling the raised ridges of his scarring. When he had seen it, Ghost had explained it had occurred while he was captivity one time. They had made him. He had looked so ashamed that Soap hadn’t pressed.

Ghost yawned and looked up at him sleepily. “You’re here again. You were gone a while.”

Soap frowned. “Wasn’t gone too long.”

Ghost frowned at him, not saying anything. He noticed the book and tilted his head.

“Just taking notes.” Soap answered the question before he asked. He smiled gently. “Sleep well?”

“This bed is better than the concrete floor.” Ghost answered smoothly, smiling a little. It felt like an odd attempt at being suave. Soap blinked and nodded.

“Are sure? These beds might as well be made of rocks.” Soap laughed a little, trying to study the smile on the his face. He looked younger. Small.

Ghost looked away. “Didn’t say it was that much better.” He was clearly smiling again but he didn’t let Soap see it. Instead, he stretched as much as he could while cuffed and winced. “Morphine? That’s new.”

“How did you know it was morphine?”

“I’ve had to use it once or twice. Doesn’t have much of an effect on me but it takes the edge off.” Simon relaxed back into the pillows. “I’m starting to think you’re a dream. You were gone a while.”

“How long was I gone?”

“I don’t know. Time is funny.” Simon waved him off.

“What is usually used?”

“Opioids. Benzos. Hallucinogens. You guys keep me hiiiiiiiigh as a kite.” Simon’s words started to sound funny and Soap wondered if they maybe gave him a touch too much morphine.

“Well, like I said, i’m here to keep you safe.”

“Liar. They were just torturing me.”

“I don’t think fixing your iv is torturing you. Or poking at your bandages.” Soap smiled indulgently.

“One of them cut me open and cut out parts of my liver.” Ghost looked at him and Soap felt his breath catch at the aching sincerity there. “He fed a piece to me. I’d really prefer if you didn’t say you’ll keep me safe. You’ll just waste your breath. I know when you leave, it’ll start again.”

Soap stared at him. It must’ve been while he was asleep that he dreamed this. He looked at Ghost’s chest, what little he could see. Ghost had a giant y-shaped scar across his entire torso.

Soap leaned over and touched his hand. “Are you okay?”

Simon stared at him before slowly relaxing. “I’m fine. It’s weird. I feel like I know you.”

“You do. You do know me.”

“No, I don’t.” Simon pleaded. “I don’t know you.”

“Yes, you do, Ghost.”

“I’m not dead.” Simon said coldly. “I’m not dead. You can’t convince me I’m dead.”

“You’re right. You’re not dead. You’re right here with me.” Soap reassured, reaching up and gently tracing his jaw. Simon looked distressed.

“Stop it. Stop it.”

“What do you want me to stop doing?”

“You’re in my head. You’re messing with me.”

“No, I’m not. I promise you’re safe. I’m not going to leave again.” Soap comforted him until Simon weakly shook his head and dropped his head onto the pillow.

“Please...” Simon mumbled, staring up at him. “Please, I don’t want them to go back to the rainbow room. I don’t want the Lady.”

“No one is going to, Simon. I promise. Why don’t you go back to sleep? Aren’t you tired?”

Simon hummed, clearly fighting sleep. He did so for a while before giving in.

Soap took a deep breath and settled back down. His hands were shaking. After a moment of consideration, he messaged Price to update him, telling him that Simon woke up for a while before going back to sleep.

Before long, Soap ended up falling asleep in his chair, focusing on the steady beat of Ghost’s heart monitor.

Screaming. It shocked him awake and he jerked up, watching Simon writhe and scream as loud as he could.

“Make it stop. Please make it stop.” Simon mumbled between ear shattering wails.

Price and Gaz were suddenly there, both just as panicked as Soap was. They tried to hold him down and watched as he thrashed, yanking so hard on his restraints that for a moment Soap wondered if his wrist would snap.

Then, his wrist snapped.

Simon choked out, sounding so angry. “You promised. You promised you wouldn’t leave. There’s so much blood.”

Price grabbed Simon’s shoulders, pinning him down. “There is no blood. You’re safe.”

“it hurts it hurts so much. I don’t want it. I don’t want them.”

“I know, Simon. i know it hurts.” Price reassured. “You hurt yourself.”

“You bastards hurt me.” Simon hissed at him, but he was shaking so hard now. They were all trying to hold him down as much as they could. “Please. Please.” He begged, pleaded with Price to make it stop.

Price just stared at him, holding his shoulders down. He looked so helpless that Soap felt sick.

“I know, son. I’m so sorry.”

“He promised. He promised he wouldn’t leave.”

“I didn’t leave.” Soap said softly, though he was looking at Price. “I think he’s dreaming through his memories. Said something about me being gone a long time earlier.”

“Shit. Can’t really protect him from that.” Gaz said softly as Simon finally stopped struggling, staring at the roof.

“Who’s the Lady?”

“Pilar. Her name was Pilar. She can do things with her hips that men would kill for.” Simon mumbled and it sounded like he was quoting someone. He eventually closed his eyes. “I don’t want her.”

Soap felt like he was going to be sick. He traced the Glasgow smile on Simon’s face, despite Price’s alarmed look. “I’m sorry.”

“You left.”

“I didn’t mean to.” Soap decided. “How long was I gone?”

“It’s been... I don’t know. I think its been a month since we first met. It’s so hard. Time runs together.”

Soap bit his lip, feeling a hole digging in his chest.

“I’m sorry. I’ll make sure when you see me, it’s nice.”

“Fuck you.” Simon eventually coughed out and then just fell back against the bed. “Fucking hell.” He tried to curl away from their hands but it didn’t work. Ghost continued to shake for a while and they retracted their hands.

Gaz sighed shakily. “Is he... okay?”

“Go back to bed, Kyle.” Price smiled. “We’ll watch him.”

Gaz nodded and quietly stepped back. He left them alone.

Price shook his head. “Simon. Roba is dead.”

“No, he’s not. I see him. He’s there when I close my eyes.”

“Simon...” Price said softly. “This all happened a very long time ago.”

“Except it didn’t.” Soap pointed out. “To him, it feels like its right now. He’s currently going through it and there’s nothing we can do to stop it.”

Small tag list of people who asked for pt 2 @sad-innit @confuseddipshit @lildoodlenoodle @imfeelingdizzy @robo-hips @cactusisconfused

#Johnny Soap Mactavish #Simon Ghost Riley #Soap Cod #Ghost COD #Soapghost #Ghostsoap #Soap x Ghost #Ghost x Soap #Macriley #Call of Duty #Call Of Duty Modern Warfare 2

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ghostlygeto · 1 year

Text

pairing: sakusa kiyoomi x fem!reader

warnings: mentions nsfw things (“suggestive”?), so MDNI, mentions the same dildo from the last scenario lol, reader nd sakusa are drinking, first kiss moment, i dunno. same universe as the last sakusa thing i posted (shocked pikachu emoji), omi kind of pines hella hard

wc: 1.5k

“you should tell me a secret about yourself, kiyoomi,” his first name rolled off your tongue as if it lived there, you couldn’t remember the last time you had called him anything else. “and it has to be a real one, not something stupid!” you laughed slightly and took another drink of whatever alcohol the two of you had been sharing for the night.

“don’t you have to tell me a secret about yourself as well, then?” sakusa asked. he was thankful that his cheeks were already tinted pink from the alcohol, he didn’t have to worry about you noticing his blush from the use of his first name. “it’s only fair isn’t it?”

“you already know a big secret about me,” you remind him, rolling your eyes as he raised his eyebrows as if asking what secret. “remember? ‘tsumu doesn’t so lovingly call me dildo girl for no reason.”

“oh.” was all sakusa managed to get out, somehow forgetting about the incident that brought you two together in the first place. “but that can’t count, everyone masturbates, y/n. it’s normal.”

“but you saw the dildo! with your eyes! and according to ‘tsumu he like, swung it around and stuff!” you shouted playfully, cheeks and ears flushing red at the memory, “i still haven’t used it. and it was expensive, too. you guys should feel bad.”

“i don’t have to feel bad for anything,” sakusa shook his head, finishing his drink before grabbing both of you another one, “i didn’t do anything. i told him not to open the box.”

you huffed, grabbing the drink from sakusa (who kindly opened it for you, since you always struggled to on your own) before taking a big sip of it. “you should, i asked you to get the package and protect it with your life. you did not do that.”

sakusa laughed, not just a small chuckle but a real, genuine laugh. sometimes he felt like you were the only person that could get those out of him. “i don’t think you asked me to protect it with my life, but whatever helps you sleep at night i suppose. i’m sorry i didn’t protect your precious package with my life,”

this was probably your favorite side to kiyoomi. the alcohol in his system made him more laid back than usual, he’d feel comfortable laying his legs across your lap or draping his arm across the top edge of the couch, his hand barely ghosting your shoulder. plus he laughed a lot. little giggles, chuckles, and sometimes full blown belly laughs. he was a completely different person with you (and with the alcohol).

“so what’s your secret?” you ask, shoving his shoulder, “tell me a secret, kiyo. i want to know everything about you.”

something in your words gave him butterflies. everything about him? he wondered if you really meant that, if you wanted to know all the reasons he is the way he is, the color of his childhood bedroom or the name of his pet hamster when he was seven. or if you just wanted to know the things that all the other women wanted to know about him. his workout routine or how many women he’s slept with or how long his-

“kiyo,” you called him out of his thoughts, a concerned look on your face, “y’know if you keep your brow scrunched like that all the time you’re going to get wrinkles. and then girls wouldn’t find you as pretty anymore. are you gonna tell me a secret or do i need to kick you out of my apartment?”

“maybe i should keep doing it then, i don’t need women to find me attractive.” sakusa rolled his eyes, but thought for a second about a secret to tell you. he thought it only fair to tell you one equally as embarrassing as yours (even though yours was mostly funny and not really embarrassing). “i’ve never been kissed before.”

you tried to hide the shocked look on your face, “what? never? like not even once when you were a kid as a dare or something?” you didn’t mean to make him feel bad, but somehow you couldn’t believe a man as attractive as kiyoomi would have never have kissed someone before. “why not?”

“i was never interested in it,” he shrugged, taking another sip from the bottle in his hand, “and i’ve never met anyone worth wanting to kiss, y’know?” he didn’t ignore the shocked look on your face, giving you a small laugh in response. “you’re surprised, knowing what you know about me and you’re surprised i’ve never kissed anyone before?”

“i think it’s more surprising to hear you say you’ve never met anyone worth kissing before. i mean, you see bokuto, hinata and ‘tsumu on the daily. if i got to see them i’d want to kiss one of them for sure.” you teased, “maybe you just don’t like girls?”

“i’d die before kissing any of them, especially atsumu,” sakusa shuddered before shaking his head at you, “i know that i like women, y/n. it’s just a matter of finding the one that doesn’t disgust me.” he hesitated for a moment before sighing, “and it’s hard to find someone that wants to know me. not sakusa of msby, but me. like…”

“someone who wants to know kiyoomi,” you finished his sentence. you didn’t know how to tell him that’s how you wanted to know him. you wanted to know kiyoomi, not sakusa. and to an extent you do know kiyoomi, you’re one of the few people he’d ever let see him like this. but you still worried that he’d never fully open up to you. why did you deserve to know him like that? just because you’re his neighbor?

“right, someone who wants to know kiyoomi.” sakusa’s eyes fell to you, and you pretended to not feel his stare. “but how do i trust that the people i’m surrounding myself with want to know me? and not him.” it was a genuine question, sakusa didn’t know how to tell the difference between the two. that’s why he didn’t have any friends outside of the volleyball team.

and you.

“what about me?” you asked, eyes meeting his. if it weren’t for the alcohol in your system you likely wouldn’t be so bold, “do you trust me?”

with everything. he wanted to tell you, though thankfully he had enough control over his drunken words not to. “i do.”

“do i disgust you?”

“not even a little.”

he hadn’t realized it before, but sometime between him confessing about never having kissed someone before and right now, your faces had gotten much closer. he wasn’t sure he had ever been close to someone like this before, aside from maybe the one time atsumu got far too drunk and tried to kiss him (it took days for sakusa to feel clean afterwards). but this was different. it felt different, he didn’t mind being this close to you. nor did he care that he could feel your alcohol ridden breath on his face with every rise and fall of your chest.

“kiyoomi?”

“yes y/n?”

“can i be your first kiss?”

sakusa answered by closing the distance between the two of you, unsure of what to do when your lips had actually connected. his eyes were closed, he knew that much, but what was he supposed to do with his hands? was he supposed to move his head at all?

“kiyo, you can breathe,” you laughed as you pulled away, a smile spread across your face. “you’re as stiff as a board, if you’re going to be kissing women you need to learn to be a little looser.”

sakusa knew you wanted to know everything about kiyoomi, not sakusa. “i’m not going to be kissing women.” he grinned, leaning away from you now. “i think i need to be a little more drunk, though.” he tried standing up but you stopped him.

“more drunk? kiyoomi i think you’re plenty drunk,” you giggled, holding onto his wrist, trying to tug him back down onto your couch, “drunk enough to kiss me, that is.”

sakusa wanted to tell you that he didn’t need to be drunk to kiss you, it just made it easier. but he didn’t, he just sat back down next to you and turned his attention to the tv. “was i bad at it?”

“kissing?” you giggled again, “it wasn’t the worst first kiss i’ve ever had.” you shrugged, tracing the outline of his side profile with your eyes. you were pretty sure if angels existed on earth, kiyoomi would be one of them. “what did you think of it?”

“well i don’t have anything to compare it to,” he replied, “so i think it was nice.” sakusa didn’t know how to tell you the only reason it was nice was because it was with you.

not pictured: atsumu spamming you with snaps the next morning, freaking out over the fact that you sent him a video of you and kiyoomi kissing (you had to beg him not to mention it to omi)

reblogs, comments, nd likes appreciated ;3

#sakusa kiyoomi fluff #sakusa kiyoomi #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #selfship: kiyori #sakusa kiyoomi x reader

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