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steddiecameraroll · 5 months

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ao3

What if Steve’s the one painfully pining thinking Eddie is straight.

Eddie unaware but happy he and Steve became friends after everything.

Eddie oblivious to how Steve’s cheeks turn pink when he gives Steve the blinding dimple laden smile.

Eddie blissfully living his life, eating Steve’s snacks at movie nights, and riding along in the car when the kids get dropped off at the arcade.

And months go by. Long torturous months where Steve (or really Robin) is sure he’s developing an ulcer because he always has a stomach ache.

Until Steve finally decides he can’t do this to himself any longer. He thought at least having Eddie in his life was better than not. But his heart hurts constantly and if he doesn’t cut Eddie out of his life, he knows it’ll never heal.

So he stops accepting the invitations to hang out. Comes up with excuse after excuse until Eddie stops asking.

He stops engaging in the conversations when Dustin or Lucas talk about that week’s campaign or this amazing thing Eddie did.

And he’s… fine.

Sure maybe when he’s trying to fall asleep some (most) nights he wonders if Eddie ever went to that new music store. Or if he ever found out if his weird neighbor was poisoning the stray cats or not.

He acts like the fact Eddie seems to be unfazed about the whole thing, isn’t the most painful thing ever. That Steve vanishing from Eddie’s inner circle didn’t even generate an annoying little blip for him to question it.

It’s fine.

He’s fine.

Until one seemingly innocuous afternoon, when Steve is at the Hallmark store picking up a birthday gift for his mom. He’s holding something with a generic motivational quote in his hands when a bang hits the store window to Steve’s left.

He jumps at the sound and turns immediately, his body poised in a defensive stance, when his eyes register what he’s seeing.

Eddie Munson with both palms smashed against the window gawking at Steve. The man’s eyes are wide and his mouth is open and he looks like he’s seen a ghost.

Steve catches his breath when he realizes he’s not in any danger, and he gives Eddie one of those mouth pressed smiles and a small nod. It’s been so long since they’ve seen each other Steve has to pretend it’s not causing him physical pain.

Then Eddie starts side stepping toward the entrance. He’s keeping his body facing Steve through the glass like he’s afraid if he looks away Steve will evaporate.

Steve knew he wouldn’t get away with never seeing Eddie again, but he had been hoping. He’s trying to ignore the desire to turn heel and find a back exit, and thinks maybe Eddie will just wanna say hi. Maybe Steve will only have to endure five minutes of interaction and they’ll go their own merry way.

“Steve!” Eddie says a little too loudly.

“Hey, man.” Steve smiles and hopes it looks friendly.

“Where have you been?” Eddie moves to stand directly in front of Steve, basically blocking him against the display table he’d been in front of.

“What do you mean?” Steve swallows a lump as he watches Eddie’s face twist into an expression of bewilderment.

“You kinda fell off the face of the earth, man. I was next door at Radio Shack and was headed to my van and thought I saw a figment of my imagination through the glass.” Eddie’s eyes suddenly dart around as of their surroundings just dawned on him. “Um…I kinda need…I’ve been thinking…can we, uh, talk? Somewhere more private?”

Steve’s mind starts flipping through possibilities of why Eddie can’t just say what he wants to say. It sounds ominous and he guesses they should get this over with. Maybe after this he’ll never have to worry about seeing Eddie ever again.

“We could go to my van? If-if you were ok with that?” Eddie quickly tacks on the last sentence.

“Sure?” Steve shrugs, sets the unimportant birthday gift on the table, and follows a step or two behind Eddie.

Eddie keeps glancing over his shoulder like he assumes Steve will dart out from behind him and book it across the parking lot. It’s making Steve nervous.

Eddie moves to the back of his van and unlocks the door, pulling it open and motioning to Steve to sit down. Steve cautiously slides his butt back onto the van, letting his legs dangle over the bumper, in case he needs to make a quick exit.

When Eddie sits down there’s an awkward amount of space between them. Steve ignores how the distance physically shows how much has changed between them.

“I…uh,” Eddie sighs then lolls his head back staring upward.

Steve can tell he’s trying to collect himself before continuing.

“Sorry, man.” Eddie chuckles nervously giving Steve a weak smile. “I wasn’t planning on doing this today so just trying to organize my thoughts.”

Steve is about three seconds away from vomiting all over the nearby asphalt. This is awful.

“I just…” Eddie turns his head to look at Steve. He looks pained, like whatever he’s about to say may crush Steve.

It probably will.

“I wanted to apologize, for…whatever it is I did. I know I’m obnoxious sometimes.” He rolls his eyes “Jeff tells me to chill out constantly.”

Steve pinches his eyebrows in confusion.

“I miss hanging out and seeing you, but I get it. You don’t give a shit about D&D or any of the other stupid things I talk about. I probably forced it and you are just too good of a dude to say anything. But that’s ok… I’ve done a lot of thinking…lately. You helped, sorta, expose something…about myself that I didn’t know.” He sighs before continuing. “I mean, I guess in theory I knew, but I just thought everyone felt like that.”

Steve feels like he’s traversing a perilous hike without a map right now, totally and completely lost.

Eddie clears his throat and fiddles with his skull ring. “I miss you. I mean, hanging out with you.”

Steve stares, unsure what to say. He probably looks like he’s short circuiting right now, because he doesn’t understand.

It’s been weeks, months even, and he never reached out. He never called or stopped by Steve’s place but he’s talking like it’s been killing him this whole time.

“I-I don’t understand.”

“What do you mean?” Eddie cocks his head.

“You missed me?”

“Yeah, of course.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “Why wouldn’t I? We used to hang out all the time, Steve. I saw you more than I saw Wayne, most days.”

“Why didn’t you ever call me then?”

“Did you want me to?” Eddie laughs awkwardly. “You stopped wanting to do anything. I figured you didn’t want to see me, it was pretty obvious. I was trying to respect your wishes, dude.”

Steve doesn’t know what to say.

Eddie kicks his feet a little while he keeps his eyes pointed down at the parking lot.

“Oh,” Steve’s heart breaks for a different reason this time. “You didn’t do anything, by the way. It’s not your fault. I just needed to focus and get my shit together. My dad bitching about college again and I needed a new job. I was just sort of…distracted.”

By you

“Oh, you coulda said something. This whole time I thought you hated me. That’s a fucking relief.” Steve can sense Eddie’s entire body relax next to him.

“Opposite really,” he mutters under his breath.

“What’d you say?” Eddie leans in, his face shifting to seriousness.

“Oh nothing,” he brushes off. “Ignore me.”

“Opposite?” Eddie’s voice is pitched.

Steve’s stomach drops.

“No-no, um…”

Steve puts his palms on the floor of the van and pushes himself out of the van. He wipes his palms on his jeans. He needs to get out of here.

“I gotta go, uh, it was good seeing you, man. Um,” he wants to suggest hanging out but he can’t say the words. “Bye.”

Steve gives a finger wave and wants to smack himself in the face for how stupid it looks. He power walks away from Eddie’s van toward his car. He can get out of here unscathed.

“NO! Steve! Wait, wait,” Eddie’s chasing close behind Steve.

Steve fumbles with his keys as he tries to unlock his car door.

“Me too!”

Steve stops, his hands hovers over the door handle. Did he hear Eddie correctly?

Eddie approaches cautiously. “Me too,” he repeats quietly. “Opposite. You-that was the thing. The thing I figured out. This was it.”

Steve turns slowly.

“I missed you, Steve.” Eddie’s eyes are big and bright as if someone handed him a Christmas present. “I missed you, more than I should’ve probably. Definitely more than…a friend would.” He shrugs and pulls his bottom lip into his mouth.

Steve’s ears are ringing. The planet has shifted, he’s sure of it. Is Eddie saying what he’s been craving from the man for almost two years?

“Opposite,” Eddie whispers.

“Opposite,” Steve echoes.

“I really wanna kiss you right now,” Eddie says gently.

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up and he stumbles back thunking his elbow against the car window. “Ow, shit.”

“Are you ok?” Eddie steps forward, reaching a hand out but avoiding touching Steve.

“Yeah,” he rubs his hand over it. “Do you-do you wanna come over? My parents aren’t home. Won’t be until Thursday.”

“That’s four days away, Steve. Are you suggesting I’ll be at your house for four days?” He twists his mouth in a sly smirk.

“Maybe, if we needed it.” Steve’s heart is pounding in his chest pleasantly now.

Eddie blushes and ducks his head. Steve can tell the man’s holding himself back.

“You coming?” Steve tilts his head.

“Fuck, I hope so,” Eddie growls.

coffee? ☕️🍩💕

#he definitely does #steddie #steddie fanfic #steve x eddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddiecameraroll posts #q #my writing

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longing-for-the-past-times · 8 months

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The four times you fell asleep on Ghost and the one time Ghost fell asleep on you - one.

simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

word count: 2,542

synopsis: Throughout your time as a Task Force 141 operator, you fell asleep on your Lieutenant in random circumstances. What happens when he is the one to fall asleep on you?

notes: hope you enjoy this, it was initially meant to be max 500 words but I got carried away reader's callsign is Bambi (she/her)

find it on ao3 part one part two part three part four part five

masterlist

one.

In hindsight, the day shouldn't have been so draining; it had been an average day spent on base, involving physical training, shooting, and paperwork. You had endured much worse during missions where you could barely get some shut-eye between watches, but that was not the case.

The problem, the literal root of your heartaches was a cat, your sister's cat. You had been more than happy to take care of it when she so kindly asked under the pretence of having to spend a few nights out of town. You had been even happier when you went shopping for cat supplies with her - perhaps excited at the thought of having a furry cuddling partner. And you intentionally kept it a secret from your teammates, scared that they would drop by uninvited to help you take care of it when all you wanted was the creature's undivided attention.

The previous day, the first day she'd spent under your care was perfect: she, for the cat was a female, spent hours cuddled up on the couch, sleeping like there was no tomorrow. But when the night came, the little beast came to life. Scratch that, beast was an understatement - it was the spawn of Satan that had been racing through your bedroom, jumping on the windows, and left hanging on the curtains. The demon that kept butting his head against your door, and that launched violent attacks against your blanket until your alarm rang.

So that was why the plain day at the base was more draining than it should have been. You went on with training, the shooting session was average, and the paperwork had you dozing on your desk. Letting out a small sigh, you forced your eyes to stay open as you scanned the last mission’s report for any grammatical mistakes- which proved to be a tedious task, especially because you’d eaten not too long ago and your eyes became heavier each breath.

At the sound of another yawn, Ghost lifted his head from his own paperwork, glancing in your direction. He noticed with a frown your exhausted face and the way you blearily rubbed your eyes in an attempt to make the sleep go away. What was that kept you up last night? Or should he ask- who? He quickly shook his head at the thought, discarding it like a crumpled piece of paper thrown in the bin. He’d known you long enough to notice your mood shifts and he would know, he had to know, if you started seeing someone. Not that he had something against it - he wouldn’t be the one to pry into your personal life like that. After all, it was Johnny’s job who, in turn, would share the information with him.

But that did not mean he could not try to ensure you felt good enough in his presence - the team’s presence - to not feel the need of finding another someone. After all, it would only get you distracted and unprepared for the missions to come.

His reasoning was sound in his head, and when he saw you had given up, propping your head against a stack of papers while mindlessly glaring at your extended hand, he got up from his desk. He made sure the screeching of the chair was loud enough to alert you something was going on, and he suppressed a grimace under his mask when he saw you slowly turn to face him, eyes glossy with sleep. At that moment, glancing at you, he thought you were the perfect embodiment of the expression: no thoughts, head empty, and, as much as it amused him, he knew he had at least to get you out of the office.

"Come on, let's go."

Scrunching your eyes before blinking, you looked up at his massive figure that was currently towering above your desk. If you'd been more alert, you would have noticed a small sparkle in his eyes, but your efforts were put into battling off the waves of sleep that just kept coming. Your mind could not form a coherent thought: what was the time, did the lieutenant finish his paperwork already, where did he want to go-

The internal questions continued and you ended up yawning loudly again, closing your eyes for a couple of minutes. You just needed to rest them for a while and then you'd be fresh, prime, and proper to finish your day on base. Yet your brief rest was interrupted when you heard, or rather, felt, a hot breath across your face. As you opened your eyes, you realized Ghost had crouched down in front of your desk, his masked face being centimetres apart from yours. His eyes still had that tiny sparkle you noticed this time, and involuntarily you began staring at his amber orbs and blonde eyelashes. Countless times you studied his eyes fervently, trying to get a glimpse of the man behind the mask - so much that you began to be aware of every crease and crinkle that would form around them, depending on his mood. At the time being, there seemed to be no such lines, or perhaps you were too tired to actually notice them-

"You can finish this report tomorrow, Sergeant. Let's go!"

He gently nudged you with his arm, waiting for any reaction. When he didn't receive one, he rolled his eyes and groaned, he actually groaned, which made you perk your ears in disbelief:

"I'm up, I'm up!", you shot up and out of the chair, too surprised by his loud reaction. But you couldn't see his face anymore as he was already heading towards the door, back turned to you, left hand silently gesturing you to follow.

The walk to the lounging area was silent, with Simon walking in front and you trailing dutifully behind him. The silence was not uncomfortable though, which was not unusual: he was one of the very few people with whom you could sit in a room for hours and don't feel the need to fill the space with words. There was no explanation for it; it all came naturally and you were smart enough not to question it, knowing that the lieutenant could be difficult with people when he wanted to.

"Look who decided to show up! Ghost, Bambi - how kind of you to join us!"

You shook your head at Soap’s loud greeting, trying your best to hide your smile as you plopped down on the sofa, next to Ghost. Captain Price was already seated in his designated armchair, leafing through what seemed to be a handbook, while Gaz was lounging on the other sofa, next to Soap. As usual, other members of the task force would come and go, bidding silent greetings, and at that moment, the comfort and familiarity of the atmosphere made you sigh softly as you propped your head on your hand while leaning against the armrest.

"Sleepless night, Y/N?"

Price did not look up from his book as he asked the question, but you knew he must have been watching you throughout the day, taking note of the sleepy state you'd often found yourself in. You also knew that he would have stepped in the moment he considered you pushed yourself too far, but for the time being, you were just satisfied that you managed to get through the day.

"Who's keeping you up at night, Bambi?", Soap quickly chimed in, a signature smirk plastered on his face. A smirk that widened even more when he noticed Ghost rolling his eyes, next to you. "Is there someone we should know about?"

"You're shameless, Johnny", you spat back at him, straightening yourself in an attempt to seem more collected. "...and even if there was someone, you think I'd throw them to the wolves?"

Gaz chuckled loudly at the remark, while Price was trying to hide his grin behind the pages. At that moment, Simon was glad the balaclava was hiding his features - the smirk he was sporting could rival Soap's.

"My sister left town for a couple of days", you eventually resumed, running a hand through your hair, "and asked me to take care of her cat-"

As expected, protests and offended remarks could be heard from both Soap and Gaz, the men demanding why they were not told of this earlier. They could have helped-

"The only help I'd get from you would consist of you two laying to sleep with her on the couch. But here's the catch, the beast only sleeps in the daytime - but when the night comes, she transforms into this dark demon which runs around the house and attacks my feet when I try to sleep!"

"Never had a cat before, Y/N? When you were a kid?"

You shook your head at Price's question, frowning when you notice his sympathetic expression:

"You need to keep them busy throughout the day, and then leave enough food for them at night. As a last resort, locking them in the bathroom is a good solution, but you need to first remove everything from the shelves."

"Or we could come in and babysit the baby!", Gaz kept pushing, an innocent smile gracing his features. "Sure, you had a rough night, but how hard can it possibly be, to take care of a creature whose routine mainly consists of eating and sleeping?"

"Well, it's only three more days. I'll manage somehow..."

As the conversation shifted to another topic you were too tired to understand fully, you laid your head against the wall, letting your body sink into the couch. There it was again, that soft hum that lulled you to sleep- not that you would actually fall asleep in the lounging area. No, you would just rest your eyes for a couple of minutes, before heading towards your car and riding back home to the little creature that must have been expecting you.

***

At first, Ghost did not seem to notice the shift of weight on his right arm. He was too busy scrolling on his phone, searching for articles about cats and their nocturnal habits. It wasn't until the room was too quiet for his liking that he looked up from his phone, his eyes meeting Soap's as his teammate was silently pointing to his right - in your direction.

He slowly turned his head towards you, his eyes widening almost comically behind his mask. You were the dead weight on his shoulder, soundly asleep, your left cheek squished against his arm. Of all the days, it was that specific day that he opted for a plain black t-shirt after training, and he was definitely overthinking his choice. Your skin felt soft and warm against his, enough to short-wire all the working circuits in his brain, prompting him to freeze and stare at you. The complete implications of this gesture would hit him later, when he would be lying in bed, unable to sleep, but for the time being, he could solely focus on the facts at hand: you were there, next to him, leaning against him, sleeping peacefully.

And he only wanted to keep an eye on you and kill anyone who had the slightest intention of waking you up.

"Where's that camera when you need it!", Soap quietly grumbled as he got up and started fumbling on one of the shelves, ignoring the daggers Ghost was shooting at him through his eyes.

"Top shelf, Soap - you put it there the last time you used it!", Price whispered with a sigh of mild frustration.

"Guys, be quiet, let the girl get some rest!", Gaz hissed as well before Soap joined him back on the couch, a dusty Polaroid camera in his hands:

"Alright, this one's for the books! Come on, give us a big smile, L.T.!"

He might have been unable to move, but his gaze spoke volumes- a true death glare though and through, quickly captured by Soap through the lenses and printed on the small Polaroid photo sheet. Gaz leaned over Soap's shoulder to see the result and even Price scooted his armchair a bit closer, a small grin dancing his lips. The picture was proudly placed on the wooden panel, next to one depicting the Captain sleeping just as soundly in the very same armchair he was currently sitting in. And in the meantime, Ghost could only feign indifference, letting his signature eye roll showcase his opinion about the situation.

He could not explain, could not even place a finger on or identify the warm and comforting sensation he was feeling in his chest. He was so used to the cold and dull feeling that had taken residence in there- yet there it was, a glimmer of hope, a ray of sun on a cold autumn day.

You felt safe in his presence, safe enough to put yourself in a vulnerable position in his proximity.

And he would do anything to keep things that way.

***

Bonus scene:

Letting out a small whimper, you stretched your limbs while keeping your eyes closed. You could not figure out how you got home or why your pillow was sporting a distinct smell of cigarette smoke, sweat and cologne, but your semi-conscious mind was too busy keeping you asleep that you did not seem to care.

Wait...

That scent was familiar. You were in its presence on an almost daily basis that you could tell it in your sleep. Well, not literally, considering that your mind was still trying to piece it out- why was your pillow smelling like Ghost?

You jerked yourself awake with a start, your groggy mind taking a couple of moments to process the fact that you were actually not in your bed, but in the lounging room at the base. And your pillow was not really your pillow, but actually, Ghost's shoulder and your cheek was fully squished against it.

"Look who's up, Sleeping Beauty herself..."

From your current position, his voice felt like a deep rumble, vibrating through your body and resonating in your bones in an unsettling manner. With a herculean effort, you managed to prop yourself against the other side of the couch, blearily blinking the sleep from your eyes. A faint blush spread across your cheeks, warmth radiating through your face as embarrassment tinged your features. It took all you had not to cover your face in your hands.

"I’m so sorry, L.T. - I really didn’t mean to-" "It’s alright, Bambi. No harm done."

The lack of your weight against him made him feel empty in a way he struggled to define. He tried to brush it away by rising from the couch and making a show of rolling his shoulder in front of you, calmly watching your embarrassed figure through his thick eyelashes. Your cheeks were already sporting an uncharacteristic rosy hue and your renowned doe eyes were widened, a glimmer of sheepishness and self-consciousness reflecting in them. He would never admit it to anyone, but he secretly adored the fact that he was one of the few people who could coax such a reaction from you.

"Although next time you might want to do it in a room without Soap. It’s likely that the entire base will learn of it by tomorrow."

A/N: wrote this on a whim, not proofread so it may contain grammatical errors (and more) updates won't be regular as I'm a college student with a full-time job

Hope you enjoyed it :)

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley #ghost x you #ghost mw2 #cod ghost #task force 141 #simon ghost riley imagine #ghost imagine #simon riley fluff #ghost fluff #call of duty imagine

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poquiii · 1 year

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Ghost x reader / König x reader

Sleeping Headcanons

Ghost.

● He goes to bed late, and very often you don't wait for him to fall asleep.

● He sleeps on his back with his arms folded at his sides. This is a comfortable position if you have to wake up in the middle of the night to go on a mission.

● When you're around, however, he lets himself relax. He puts his arms around you, pressing your back against his chest.

● He likes to listen to your deep breathing, it soothes him.

● He sleeps without a pillow.

● He wakes up several times a night.

● It helps him to ground himself with your legs slung around his waist or your arms hugging his biceps.

● When he's away on missions and has to sleep alone, it's hard for him to accept the absence of your warmth by his side.

● And often, waking up in the middle of the night alone, he reaches out to your side of the bed. And not finding you there, he begins to panic.

● He sleeps very sensitively and wakes up every time you get up in the middle of the night, no matter how hard you try not to make noise.

● He is plagued by nightmares, but he never tells you about them.

● However, if you really talk him into it, he will gladly let you nestle his head on your chest, stroking his back. He closes his eyes, listening to your breathing.

● He sleeps quietly, but sometimes he may twitch because of a nightmare he can't wake up from. It embarrasses him greatly and he always apologizes to you, kissing your cheek and wrist.

● Always gets up early by his internal alarm clock.

● But moves quietly, trying not to wake you up.

● Always kisses you on the temple before you go out. And always lifting his mask up to his nose to touch you with his bare lips.

● And no matter how restless his sleep was, with you by his side, he fell asleep calmly and quickly for the first time

König

● He was used to huddling on the bed so as not to take up too much space, since the army rarely had beds his size.

●With you, that habit remained, even though your shared bed was just huge.

● He's afraid of crushing you with his weight, so he tries to keep his distance. you don't like this and you often snuggle up to him in your sleep and he gently pushes you away.

● But he still loves to touch you.

● He holds your hand, tangles his feet in your legs, much smaller and shorter.

● He always sleeps on his side and most of the time faces you. He likes to wake up looking at you.

● It would take him several months of your obsessive cuddling at night to drown his anxiety in the tenderness and affection you showed him. Since then, he's already braver to move closer to you and coil himself around you like a giant cat.

● Sometimes he sniffs in his sleep, especially when you stroke and kiss his face while he sleeps.

● He is always hot and often throws off the blanket. Quite often right on top of you, by the way.

● He dreams a lot. Not terrible nightmares, but rather disturbing dreams, after which he has to breathe heavily for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling, before he can go back to sleep.

● When it's cold in your bedroom, he hugs you to warm you with his warm body until you fall asleep.

● Likes to stroke your hair as you sleep.

● He doesn't like waking up early, especially on weekends.

● He prefers to cuddle you for a couple more hours after you both wake up, inhaling the smell of shampoo from your hair.

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otto-s-alskling · 2 months

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John Price X Reader

Fluff. Just. Freaking cotton ball fluff.

Captain John Price was never one to go aggressively court a lady, no no. He's too old fashioned for that Gen Z energy. But he definitely is one for the long game. Always praising you casually with "Nice job" and "Well done" and "Couldn't have done it without ya." Which slowly evolved to "That's great, sweetheart" to more questionable ones like "Nice one, Lovie." It lowkey made you wonder how many endearments can one man use before he uses "that phrase."

It was hard to know when really. It was a slow night at the office and Price was busy with the last of the paperworks. Of course, the little sweetheart that you are, you stayed behind as well and brought him coffee.

"Hi, Cap... Thought you'd want a bit of coffee for a lil pick-me-up?"

Price smiled at the sweet gesture, immediately putting out the cigar that he had and waving away the smoke that linger.

"Thanks, Lovie. Can you put it here?"

You nodded and approached his desk, putting the cup of coffee (black with just a bare hint of sugar to cut the full bitterness) when he gestured for you to come closer a bit. I complied, glancing at the files that he needed a bit of help with, some french files that needed translation. Being the linguistics expert, you immediately moved to his side.

You were looking down on the papers to try to read it when his hand landed on your waist, making you sit on the armrest of his chair as you translate the papers for him. That's how you worked that night, sitting on the armrest with his arm around your waist on the last one hour you two are there, his thumb drawing circles on your waist as you diligently translate the papers on his tablet there.

This became a routine until one night he just straight up pulled you into his lap when he was extremely tired, using your back and shoulder as his pillow and his arms are wrapped around your waist tightly. You let the poor Captain be, your heart unable to say no, not when he asked oh so nicely to use you as a pillow for a bit. So he snoozed as you sat on his lap, trying not to think too much of it as you worked on the tablet. You did suggest him sleeping in the couch on his office but he didn't want that because that meant not being close to you. He doubted that you'd want to let him cuddle you at that stage anyway, so he was fine with this.

Thus the new addition to your routine. He'd get you on his lap at wee hours at night, both of you working, sometimes him napping, and that's basically it... For now anyways. It got a few eyebrows raised, especially to Gaz who's curious on how slow can a slow burn be. And you never get up from his lap either unless he had to actively talk with the other person on the room. You just stay on his lap, perched like a pretty little cat as you type and whoever was delivering some paperwork to Price would see it and you just... Don't seem to care, especially when Price tightens his hold whenever anyone arrive.

Then came a time when YOU were the one exhausted and against better judgement, fell asleep on his lap, curled up on him upon his insistence. This one really takes the cake because some Taskforce members, Gaz, Soap and Ghost had to be there for a small discussion and had to awkwardly talk in hushed voices because Price refused to wake you up and maybe convince you to go to bed. No, no, that would mean you'd be far away from him and he wants you to get used to being with him all the time. Gaz fought a snicker halfway into the discussion when you nuzzled closer to Price and he blushed. The man himself blushed and you had no clue it was happening.

Lowkey, it was entertaining and kind of weird to see, the three members choosing to face each other instead so they wouldn't have to get caught up in trying to stare at you and him and wonder if you're even aware of the Captain's feelings or if you're just going with the flow with him.

Things did suddenly change when the team got back from a hard mission and Price immediately looked for you after getting rid of his gear. He found you in his office, doing some filing. After locking the door, he just pulled you into his arms and laid down on the couch with you with a soft gruff "Come here please". You looked at him as he held onto you, his head on your chest, before slowly hugging him back, running your fingers through his hair as his ragged breaths changed slowly and he relaxed, the tension leaving him as you gently played with his hair.

It felt intimate and reassuring to him, and he just stayed there, using you as a pillow as he tried to forget and let go whatever it was that happened on the field. For the first time, you two actually cuddled and fell asleep together, the exhaustion claiming Price fast while you slowly dozed off after watching him sleep for some time.

After a few hours, he stirred awake. Price knew that this is wrong. That he is your superior and that he shouldn't even be looking at you like this but how can he not when you looked so sweet sleeping underneath him? He couldn't help but smile, couldn't help but plant a soft kiss on your cheek before going back to sleep again and hope you wouldn't mind the surprisingly high amount of comfort that he's getting just from holding you close like this.

This man has me on a chokehold and I've watched too many shows and movies with him in it. #shameless

#call of duty #john price #captain price #price x reader #price #captain john price #cod #cod modern warfare #cod mw3

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moocowofdoom · 2 years

Text

Phew. Woah.

#i felt a ghostly presence in my room so hard tonight #our downstairs is haunted #but ive never felt them or heard them or anything till well #i guess its 6am so this morning #but i had turned off the cat fountain cause its low and the motor was being loud and like #idk #got back in bed and started getting full body shivers and felt something in the room and kept pulling my eye mask off to check #dunno at what point i fell asleep but it continued like that for a while #then bith cats were in my room #Calamity and Pork my roomates (who is def upstairs sleeping in their room) and the presence felt to heavy not malicious but clearly upset #then as i was still laying in bed i felt its hand in mine #like full on fingers entwined #its arm under mine #and i was like okay yeah we can hold hands for a bit i guess ghost #then i woke up #and the realization that pork is clearly not in my room made me go woah how much of that was a dream like when did i fall asleep?#but it had absolutely zero dream feels it was my room exactly as it is right now #i really think the downstairs ghost is soothed by the cat fountain and now that its back on and refilled (which i just got back in bed from #doing its all calm no shivers no presence no nothing #accidental ghost soothing cat fountain.#will not be turning it off again during the night nope #first ghost experience tbh #like i was def awake for some of the body shivers and the presence in my room... i think.... but wow

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mangowafflesss · 3 months

Text

Surprise! 141 x Reader

Summary: The guys surprise you with a furry new friend <3

It gets lonely when you're at home with no one to talk to…

The guys leave at odd times of the day or early morning, sometimes without a goodbye because they are in such a rush. You'd spoken to them about how they feel about getting a dog or a cat to keep you company but every time the subject popped up, they would speak about something else or ignore you completely.

The guys didn't want to upset you but they actually had been planning to get you a dog for a while but with the constant missions they haven't had the time to surprise you.

When the guys walked through the front door of your home they found you slumped on the sofa, your feet propped up on top of the coffee table and the credits of the film you obviously fell asleep to, rolling in the background.

“I've missed how peaceful she looks when sleeping” Soap whispers before hums in agreement break out.

Gaz holds the puppy they picked up from the shelter earlier over your stomach and gently lowers her down until she rests on your body. You start to stir in your sleep as the fluff ball starts licking your chin.

“Hey love, wake up. We have something for you” Price says in his sweet tone he only uses for you. His hand stroked your head and you leaned into his touch with a smile on your face.

“You're home” you say with a groggy voice but with your eyes still closed and oblivious to the added weight moving on your chest.

You eventually opened your eyes and when you did, you saw all of your favourite boys surrounding you with grins on their faces. You didn't understand what they were smiling about until you saw something brown move in your vision.

Looking down, you see the softest looking pup snuggled up against you. Your hand cradles its body as you manoeuvre yourself into a sitting position.

“Oh my god. Am I dreaming?” your hands ran over the fur of your new friend and tears sprung to your eyes. You finally break the eye contact with the animal in your hands and look up at the guys “I thought you didn't want a dog”

Gaz kneels down in front of you and gives the dog a little scratch before talking. “We wanted to surprise you the first time you asked but-”

“We went away for three months and we couldn't stop thinking about you being here all alone” Ghost says while sitting next to you on the sofa.

“Thank you so much, I promise to take good care of her” you press a kiss to Gaz and ghost before standing up and kissing Soap and Price.

“You guys are the best! Come on my baby let's go to bed” you talk in a little high pitched voice while hugging the small dog to your chest.

The four men watch you leave the room and slowly look at one another.

“Maybe this was a mistake”

“We’ve lost ‘em now”

“Great”

#141 x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #captain john price x reader #price x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #call of duty

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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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soapyghostie · 26 days

Note

Hey! Absolutely random request, but imagine reader being a tired person that out of wounds and stress they just fall asleep when they're being carried, about to go on a hook. How would the dbd killers(any, really) react?

Like, imagine. Being carried, without anything under legs can already make someone sleepy if they don't have adrenaline pumped through their veins. Plus, i know that having wounds(aka blood loss) can make people very tired.

Since this request it a little vague, I decided to get a little creative with it and wrote some angst because I’m a sucker for angst with dad slashers (except Frank is your big brother in this request). 😭 Hope you enjoy!

The Ghost Face/Danny Johnson

Danny would be confused at first, bloodlust still kicking through his veins even after killing all our teammates as he carries you, his injured daughter, to the hook (Sorry (Y/N), he’s just doing his job. No hard feelings). He’ll pause for a moment, trying to process the fact that you feel asleep on his shoulder.

As he realizes that you fell asleep due to exhaustion and stress from your wounds, Danny’s demeanor would soften and his parental instincts within him kicks in. He’ll gently adjust you in his arms from being thrown over his shoulder to being carried bridal style, ensuring that you’re comfortable even as he still proceeds to hook you.

Seeing you in such a vulnerable state would stir up a lot of internal conflict in Danny. He’s torn between his role as a merciless killer and his love for you as his daughter as he hesitates to sacrifice you to the Entity. Danny’s had a lot of bad performances in trials lately and he really needs the 4K. However, to get the 4K he needs to sacrifice you. Of course it has to be you: the Entity is so cruel.

As to not get punished by the Entity, sadly, Danny will throw you onto the hook. Danny would feel a pang of remorse and sadness. He knows that he’s the cause of your pain and exhaustion, and seeing you in such a vulnerable state serves as a painful reminder of the life he’s subjected you to. He silently reflects on his actions and their consequences. He’ll gaze at your sleeping form dangling from the hook, grappling with the complexities of his emotions and the choices he made.

Despite his conflicted emotions, Danny remains committed to his role in the Entity’s twisted game. However, Danny’s determination to protect you remains unwavering. He’ll play the Entity’s game and continue this dark path as a killer if it means to ensure your safety as he doesn’t want you to be harmed as a result of his shortcomings…

The Legion/Frank Morrison

Frank would be initially shocked and panicked to see you, his younger sister, in such a vulnerable state. Despite his tough ‘bad boy’ exterior, he deeply cares about you and seeing you hurt triggers his protective instincts.

The sight of you falling asleep from exhaustion and stress while carrying you to the hook fills Frank with anger and frustration. He’ll curse under his breath, feeling powerless to protect you and frustrated with the situation at hand. First off, your god damn heavy after going unconscious and, secondly, he has no choice but to hook you due to the amount of failed trials he’s had lately to try and please the Entity.

Despite his anger, Frank, also like Danny, would feel a sense of inner conflict. On one hand, he wants to lash out at the Entity for throwing her into a trial with him, but on the other hand, he knows he has to get the 4K by hooking you so you end up safe and sound at the survivor camp instead of the agony the Entity threatened to put you through if he didn’t start stepping it up in trials. You’re the reason he has the strength to keep going in this awful, twisted game of cat and mouse.

Frank would grapple with the feeling of guilt and responsibility for your condition. As your older brother, he feels entitled to preventing you from getting hurt in the first place and blames himself for everything that has happened to you. Despite his conflicting emotions, he would carefully and gently place you on the hook, making sure you're as comfortable as possible given the circumstances. As he watches you sleep on the hook, Frank would have a quiet moment of reflection. He reminisces about y’all’s childhood together and vows silently to himself to do whatever it takes to keep you safe.

Seeing you vulnerable would only fuel Frank’s determination to perform better in trials. He would be even more relentless in his pursuit of survivors, driven by the desire to protect you from the Entity’s hungry claws.

The Shape/Michael Myers

Michael would pause, a flicker of confusion crossing his expressionless face. The sight of you, his daughter, falling asleep despite the dire circumstances briefly disrupts his usual relentless pursuit to satisfy his murderous desires.

Deep within his obscured psyche, a conflict brews. While Michael is driven by an insatiable urge to kill, his parental instincts stir, conflicting with his murderous impulses. This momentary hesitation leads to a brief internal struggle, the likes of which observers of Michael would never perceive.

Despite the task at hand and the chaos of the trial, Michael momentarily freezes, holding your unconscious body with an eerie stillness. His iconic breathing momentarily ceases, as if he too, like Danny and Frank, were contemplating the peculiar situation.

In a rare display of tenderness, Michael gingerly adjusts your position, ensuring that you're comfortable even as he prepares to hook you. His movements would be precise, almost caring, as if he’s trying to shield you from further harm, even in your unconscious state. As he gazes upon your sleeping form, fragments of memories flicker through Michael’s mind. Images of you as a child, innocent and untouched by the darkness that now envelopes you both, momentarily soften his gaze, perhaps even cause a subtle twitch at the corners of his mouth – a long-forgotten smile. You are his world.

Ultimately, the weight of his desire to kill and the futility of his attempts to connect with you wash over Michael. With a heavy heart hidden beneath his iconic mask, he proceeds with the task at hand – sacrificing you to the Entity. With a solemn determination, Michael carries you to the hook, his obsession with killing eclipsing any semblance of any paternal sentiment.

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nogenderbee · 3 months

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♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ 𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖 𝕚𝕟 𝕤𝕝𝕖𝕖𝕡 ₊˚ˑ༄

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ anon request: Could I request the demon brothers with a lover who says strange things in their sleep? Like, they're just napping and all of a sudden, they say "potato fairy".

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Yeah! Absolutely!

I'm sorry some are really short but hopefully it's at least not forced so I still hope you'll like it!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ fluff, TW: slight mentions of guts in Asmo's part (just skip the dialogue)

✧ Lucifer is probably one of the rare demons who doesn't make big deal out of your habit

✧ it's just like snoring but... talking. And it just happens to be a bit stupid. He's seen worse things

✧ he'll move you to some private space when you fall asleep in public so you can rest there, without worrying layer about anyone hearing your mumbles

✧ he's usually not even paying attention to what you're saying in your sleep and just gets lost in his work

✧ even if he hears what you're saying, he's not gonna tease you about it, unless you really want to hear about things you've said

"It wasn't really anything out of the ordinary. Again, talking and flying fruits. I didn't listen to your descriptions. Sorry dear, but I had work to finish."

✧ overally, it's like he doesn't even notice that trait of yours

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

✧ you scared the living out of Mammon the first time you did that

✧ he didn't knew you talk in your sleep in the first place so imagine fear on his face when you didn't answered simple questions

"MC, what do you mean...?"

"flying piggies..."

"WHERE-?!"

✧ literally believes you every time for some reason...

✧ don't you dare spooking him with ghosts or so because he'll end up clinging onto your pretending to just be "warming you up because you were shaking" ignoring the fact it's him who's shaking

✧ you'd think it'd get better with time, and yes it does a bit?

✧ when he's in front of someone and you start talking stupid things, he'll just explain how it's your habit, but he'll still have quick and sly look around his surroundings just in case...

✧ you're making this man lovkey paranoid a bit, especially if he's after horror movie... then it's even worse!

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

✧ Levi sometimes doesn't even realize you've felt asleep to be honest

✧ he's sometimes so lost in his game or anime, he responds automatically without thinking about it

✧ it's just a habit when he's too focused on his things to just get rid of somebody

✧ it's honestly even funnier when he realizes what you two are talking about and stops everything he's doing to have a lag

"We can conquer the marshmallow kingdom later."

"But teddy bears..."

"Teddybears can wai- hold on... What...?"

✧ he's not letting anyone else hear you to save you the emberassment, so any time you fall asleep in public, he'll try to take you to his or your room, or anywhere private so you can rest

✧ he mostly doesn't even remember stories you've told him unless they really broke his mind so it's rare when you get to hear about things you've said in your sleep

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

✧ Satan simply finds it funny

✧ people who talk in their sleep, sometimes tend to respond and he'll use it to have laugh of the year

"bugs with crowns..."

"Oh really? Why do they have crowns, MC?"

"They beated up Lucifer, then Diavolo..."

✧ the stories you've come up with in your sleep are truly worth writing down and you bet he does just that and reads them to you once you're awake

✧ he's not trying to be mean, he simply can't resist making you a bit pouty and blushy with your habit

✧ though he'll skip this part when others are around and won't mess with you, that's for his ears and eyes only~

✧ weirdly, you fell asleep around him more often after he've discovered your habit

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@miya-akane - come get your cat lover!

✧ Asmo, similar to Satan, likes to have a chuckle thanks to your little habit

✧ though he's not as mean about it and has more casual conversation, eventually chuckling more from cuteness of your words rather than the fact he finds it funny

✧ sometimes tho, he may get dramatic with it

✧ try to say something stupid about self-care and he'll have an argument with your sleepy self

"I put jellyfish jam on my face and now I'm dazzling..~"

"You- YOU PUT JELLYFISH GUTS ON YOUR FACE?! Oh no, no! Listen closely, MC, you can't..."

✧ when you wake up, he doesn't let you go untill you two have your skin-care night/morning

✧ he won't be afraid to let you nap in public, after all your mumbling is cute!

✧ speaking of which, he doesn't mind telling others he's close to about what you said last night but he'll stop if you feel uncomfortable with that

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@vodka-glrl - come get your pretty princess~

✧ Beel is another rare demon who doesn't make big deal out of it!

✧ he talks in his sleep too, and so does Belphie. He began ignoring sleep talking for quite a while now

✧ don't ask him what you've said because poor boy doesn't even remember

✧ he won't really touch or move you when you're asleep but he might sit down next to you and be like your little body guard

✧ if you ask him to tho, he'll move you to more private place when he catches you asleep somewhere public, he wants to make sure you're comfortable after all!

✧ but if you don't mind, he'll just let you rest like you are

"and then... bathtub elve came out..."

"Do they-"

"Oh yeah, they talk in their sleep. Anyway, are we going to that restaurant or not?"

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

✧ Belphie also talks in his sleep and believe me, it's sometimes even stupider than things you're saying

✧ like, if you two actually talk with each other in your sleep, stupidest and most creative stories happen

✧ ask someone Beel to record it for you and you'll have a good laugh

"bee's need our help..."

"they can burn on candy sun..."

"but lolipops will melt too..."

"just spill it on Lucifer... heh..~"

✧ even if Lucifer overhears any of your stories, he can't do anything because you're just talking in your sleep and not insulting him consciously or are you

✧ when he sees you sleeping in public, he just joins you

✧ even if you tell him to move you somewhere private, it "slips his mind as he's too tired" and you end up waking up in the same place but with Belphie next to you

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@miya-akane - come get your sleepyhead!

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schrodingerscougar · 1 month

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Note: I don't feel like giving the poor pair a happy ending. I feel guilty for what I did to Soap in the previous part.

(part 2)

Simon had trouble sleeping lately. Every time he fell asleep, he dreamed of his best friend finding out he had kissed his girlfriend that night, and he interrogated him long enough to learn every little detail, from what her lips tasted like to how much they both enjoyed it.

In his dream the story went on as his imagination filled the gap between the kiss and the confrontation. It was full of gentle touches, delicate smiles, and secret meetings. There he knew how soft your skin was and what made you purr like a satisfied cat.

Whenever there was a chance he would remain alone with you somewhere in the hours spent awake, he immediately fled the scene and avoided talking to you. Hearing your voice and looking into your eyes would make him weak in the knees, and seeing that gorgeous smile of yours would be the nail in his coffin.

“What's wrong, Lt?” Johnny asked him one day, looking down at him from behind the bench.

The lieutenant finished the series he was doing, then put the barbell back to its place with the other man's help. He had to come up with something, a lie that could be good enough to avert the Scotsman's attention. “What makes you think I have a problem?”

Johnny let out a sigh after he sat on the floor and pulled up his knees. “I don't know, you're just strange lately. I noticed you've been avoiding my girl and since we work together, it makes things a little complicated.”

My girl. These words were heart-wrenching for Simon, he just wanted to stand up and leave to avoid this conversation. There was nothing he could have said to make the sergeant feel better without telling him about the kiss. The first one was his fault, he knew that, but you kissed him the second time.

“We just had a little argument, that's all. But I don't think that affects our job,” he said eventually.

“All right, I won't ask any more questions, I see you don't want to talk about it. But don't be too hard on her, okay? She was so sad throughout our trip during the leave. I don't want to see her like that again.”

Simon understood now. This relationship was serious from Johnny's point of view, while you–based on the way you've been apparently acting around him–had your doubts lately. It was his fault, he should have controlled himself better.

“All right, fine, I'll talk to her and we'll sort this out,” he promised.

“Thank you.”

So later in the afternoon he went to look for you, hoping you could have a normal conversation. He wasn't afraid that you would be pissed off, he was more terrified of himself not being able to keep his distance. Because he wanted to kiss you again, he wanted to tell you to break up with Johnny, beg you to choose him over his friend.

He found you in an empty briefing room, reading a book in the silence. He knocked on the door and waited for you to let him in. He could see the surprised look in your eyes, the hesitation when it came to letting him in.

“What can I help you with?” you asked as you closed your book.

Simon stepped inside and closed the door. “We need to talk about what happened back then. I want to apologize, I know I shouldn't have done that.”

Your expression softened and you stood up to walk over to him. “I kissed you too, so I should also apologize. But tell me this; do you want more from me? More than just one kiss?” you asked while you reached out to put a hand on his shoulder.

He wanted to be honest, but something told him he shouldn't be. “You're dating Johnny, it doesn't matter what I want.”

“I can... break up with him.”

“No. He loves you too much.”

You let go of him and began to pace the room like a sad ghost. Simon could sense that you wanted more too, but you understood that your boyfriend's feelings were strong enough to make you stay. Breaking up would have broken his heart, and neither of you wanted that.

In the end you came to a halt and said, “I should ask Price to let me work with them. I don't want problems with you.”

“And Johnny?”

“He'll be fine, we can still be together. But if you change your mind, if you want–”

Simon was quick to interrupt you, repeating his previous words. “It doesn't matter what I want. He's my friend, I won't steal his girlfriend.”

“And if his girlfriend likes you?”

“This can never be more than that one kiss. That one time thing,” he clarified.

Before you could say anything, he nodded and left the room, not stopping until he reached his room and laid down on the bed. Saying those things was killing him, making him feel like crying for the first time since he was young. Why couldn't he forget you? Why couldn't you say you had been drink that night and it didn't mean anything? Why didn't you say you understood that being together couldn't happen?

He couldn't help but wonder if he had just forced you to remain in a relationship you didn't want anymore. If you still loved Johnny after what happened. But at the end of the day, it didn't matter. It was none of his business after all.

#ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty #mw3 #simon riley x reader #mw2 #modern warfare #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #john mactavish #soap #soap x reader #f!reader

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rachalixie · 1 year

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a/n: a little 2min x reader thing i wrote at 1am because @gimmeurtmi is a little enabler and sent me into a spiral (i love u wife). it's just my need to have the boys i'm in love with also be in love with each other.

dating both seungmin and minho was an interesting experience in almost all aspects.

the two were, quite literally, like cat and dog. they bicker constantly, provoking one another just to get a rise out of it, but still insanely protective of one another. they’d been friends for longer than either of them had known you, a history there that you could never understand no matter how hard you tried to. they were roommates after all, they spent more time with each other than they did with anyone else.

you fell in love with them at the same time. they were a constant from day one, wiggling their way into your life until they found a home there. they were unusual, they were frustrating, they were wonderful. a mixture of emotions that you couldn’t quite wrap your head around - maybe that’s why it took you so long to notice.

they were flirting.

their bickering was their ploys for attention, their jabs at each other were their ways of showing affection, their protective streaks were their way of saying i see you, i care about you, please be okay.

it frustrates you that it took you months to realize this. months of sleeping over, alternating whose bed you ended up in at the end of the day. now, lying wide awake next to a softly snoring minho, the puzzle pieces finally line up and you’re stuck with the slowly spiraling thought that the two stupid men you fell in love with were also in love with each other.

you hear soft footsteps outside of the room followed by the squeak of minho’s doorknob turning, and you close your eyes and level your breathing. you didn’t want to see kim seungmin right now. you didn’t want to speak to kim seungmin right now.

he pads to the bedside table, quiet as possible to not wake you or minho. you hear the click of minho’s bedside lamp and the orangey glow behind your eyelids disappears.

seungmin can’t sleep with the lights on, even the softest glow from the crack beneath his door bothers him. his room is always shrouded in darkness, the thickest blackout curtains lining his windows and covers over every charging cable.

“stupid hyung,” he mutters, sliding out of the room as fast as he entered it.

this is something you’ve seen him do often. he would sneak into minho’s room, slick and quiet, and turn the lights off. he would never bring it up to minho, never scold him for leaving the lights on and disturbing his sleep.

seungmin can’t sleep with the lights on. minho knows this. minho, for all of his teasing and general i-don’t-give-a-fuck facade, he remembers these tiny details. he would never do something purposefully that would harm someone else’s health, especially kim seungmin’s.

he’s been leaving the lights burning on purpose. just so seungmin has to come into his room and then them off. just so he has a little pocket of interaction to hold close. and seungmin has been letting him. seungmin was never one to hold back from complaining to minho about his behavior, from the way he leaves his shoes just an inch away from the rack to the way he breathes too loud during movie nights. so, why does he not complain about this? why does he not barge in and wake minho up in his frustration instead of creeping in and out like a ghost?

because they love each other, your traitorous brain supplies.

you’re still pretending to be asleep when you hear minho sigh and roll over, his hand coming to cover his face. you can hear the smile in his breath, and you’re sure that if you opened your eyes you’d be able to see the fiery red burning in his ears, even in the dark. interesting.

this stays with you for days. weeks. you know you spend a little too much time staring at them now, but you can’t help it. if they notice, they don’t bring it up to you.

you start staying awake later on the days that you’re in minho’s bed, just to get a glimpse of seungmin coming in and out of the room. sometimes, he would turn off the light quickly and leave just as fast. other times, he would take a second to stare at minho’s face with heavy eyes, pausing for longer than necessary before turning and walking away. on rare occasions, when he notices that the blankets have shifted away, he pulls them over an exposed knee or elbow or foot, tucking minho in like he’s a child that needs to be coddled.

minho wakes up sometimes. he sighs like he’s in school and he’s experiencing his first crush, every single time. other times he remains fast asleep, mumbling lightly in unintelligent syllables. but every day that seungmin visits his room, he wakes up utterly content and pleased.

a month into this routine you’ve had enough. you don’t know how long this has been going on for, but you know that you’re ready for it to end.

“talk to him,” you say to minho before bed as you run your fingers through his hair in what you hope is enough to comfort him.

“talk to who?” he asks, voice trembling around the edges. he’s playing ignorant, when you know he knows exactly who you’re talking about.

“he feels the same, you know that?” you keep your voice soft, not wanting to spook him. he spooks easily, like a kitten. “the three of us are already dating each other. it’s just that you two don’t know it yet.”

“what if he says no?” he forces out, avoiding your eyes as he fiddles with his fingers.

“he won’t. trust me?” you hold out a pinkie and he links his own with it with a slow nod.

it takes him longer to go to sleep, this time. you can hear his uneven breathing under your head from where it’s pillowed on his chest, and it jumps when he hears his bedroom door creak open.

seungmin moves to the light and clicks it off, but before he could back away minho’s eyes flutter open and he grabs seungmin’s hand.

“hyung?” seungmin squeaks out, frightened at being caught for the first time. that he knows of.

“you came all this way just to turn off a light,” minho starts, words slow and tentative like he’s testing out the flavor of them on his tongue before he speaks them. “might as well stay. there’s room for you, in here.”

not the confession you were hoping for, but you suppose it’ll do, for now. he folds back the blanket a bit, enough to signal the invitation but not enough to be embarrassed about if he was rejected.

“you want me?” seungmin’s voice is too shocked for how smart he is. why can’t these boys see what’s in front of them?

“get in the bed, seung,” you jump in, not willing to witness the awkward stumbling that those two were about to engage in. you had plenty of time for that tomorrow, in the daylight. “he wants you to.”

so seungmin does. he gets in quietly, and minho wriggles a bit closer to you to make room. despite minho’s claim, it’s a tight fit, but when minho throws and arm around seungmin and pulls him into his chest so that the two of you were mirrored images of one another it works.

minho’s smile almost outshines seungmin’s, both blinding the room in the kind of light that doesn’t need flame or electricity.

the next morning, seungmin claims that it was the best sleep he’s had in a while. minho claims that it’s usually a little too cold, and having two personal heaters instead of one was better. you roll your eyes at them, but when they shyly kiss over the kitchen table you’re the happiest you’ve ever been.

#stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids drabbles #stray kids soft thoughts #stray kids soft hours #soft #lee know fluff #seungmin fluff #2min #lee know imagines #kim seungmin imagines

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jellyjays · 1 year

Text

come away, oh ghostly child... (pt 3)

(PT 2 <-) (-> PT 4)

Dick lays in bed.

Phantom is tucked into his side, snuggling into his warmth. Dick doesn't know what to do. Whenever he moves even a millimeter away from the child, Phantom whines and snuggles back in, searching for comfort.

He supposes it's his fault. He'd brought the boy home, unsure what the protocol was for a ghost child. He'd laid the boy down on his bed, getting undressed and changing into pajamas before plopping down, intending to get up after a second and find out what to do.

That was when the boy had struck. Now he's here, stuck. It's like when a cat lays on your lap. It would be sacrilege to move and disturb them.

Sighing, Dick uses the hand on his free side to grab his phone. He's lucky it's close, or he'd be fucked.

He calls Babs, linking the audio to the comm still in his ear.

"Hey Dick, what's up?"

"Babs. I have a... situation."

"A situation, huh? Would this have anything to do with the call I got from Jason laughing his ass off about you taking after Bruce?"

"Damnit, I told him about this in confidence! Asshole. And he claims he's not a gossip."

"So, you've acquired a child."

"A ghost child, who can apparently turn into an alive child. Still confused about that."

"Hold up. You never said anything about a ghost. You're telling me you have the ghost kid who's been haunting Gotham for the past 3 months?"

"That I am."

"And said ghost kid turned into a living kid and fell asleep on you."

"Affirmative."

Babs sighs over the line.

"Go to sleep, Dick, and worry about it in the morning. Usually, I'd say something different, but you sound dead tired. Get some sleep, and hopefully, the kid will, too. We'll just hope he's there in the morning."

Dick wakes up, not realizing he'd fallen asleep. A glance at the phone in his hand tells him it's 7.

When he moves, he's interrupted by Phantom snuggling into his side again, chasing after his warmth.

Dick wastes no time in scooping the boy up to hold on his hip, which seems to work fine because Phantom doesn't protest.

He doesn't bother trying to change- still in his pajamas, he heads out to his kitchen with Phantom on his hip. He rifles through his fridge, looking for anything suitable for a young child- he has some eggs that are miraculously still good, some fruit he bought the day before, a pack of bacon, and some bread. Why is his bread in the fridge? He doesn't know. Ask past Dick, who probably made this choice while sleep-deprived.

Time to find out if cold bread makes bad toast.

Dick sets about making breakfast one-handed- he starts by putting the bacon on. While that cooks, he puts the bread in the toaster, then he scrambles the eggs. The eggs are finished quickly, so as the toast finishes and the bacon sizzles, he begins to dice some fruit. As he plates the breakfast, Phantom begins to stir, probably smelling the bacon and eggs.

Just as Dick sets the breakfast on the table, Phantom wakes up with a big yawn.

"Morning, sleepyhead. I made breakfast."

Phantom, still half asleep, nods and wiggles, so Dick sets him down in the chair, pulling his own chair out to sit across from the boy.

Phantom stares blearily at his breakfast, a fork in his hand.

Then he lights up.

"The- the breakfast has a smiley face!"

"Yeah, buddy, it does," Dick smiles, just the tiniest bit proud that his idea had cheered the boy up- the breakfast was a slice of toast with bacon in the shape of a smile and two strawberry slices for eyes. The scrambled eggs and other fruit sat on opposite sides of the toast.

"That's so cool!"

Dick smiles, and motions for Phantom to eat up. The boy obliges, digging into the fruit first. Dick eats as well, somewhat thankful for having something other than cereal for the first time in what has to be a month.

"My name's Danny," Phantom- no, Danny says unprompted.

"It's nice to meet you, Danny. I'm Dick."

Danny smiles and says, "Big Brother Dick!"

Dick blinks.

"No, buddy, I'm not your big brother, just Dick."

Danny's smile falls.

"But Gotham says... she says you're my brother, she says you're safe. You're my big brother, Gotham says you're her kid same as me!"

And oh, the boy is close to tears- what is Dick supposed to do here?" Deny or play along?

"Sure then, buddy. Yeah. I can be your big brother."

And there's that smile again- oh, what has Dick just done?

tags: @basilf1res @angelheartgamer @justgray15777 @terzatheunderscorerima @phantom120 @undead-essence @crazydoughnutlady @big-flrda-kys @rangerhorsetug @shamelessstudenthideout @nonbinary-disaster @keegan-parker @i-am-the-asian-persuasion @terrasolstice @eonic @mayoota-blog1 @theonewiththegays @glitchedchaos

(hopefully i got everyone!)

bonus sketch:

#dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #gotham #dc #batman #batfam #nightwing #dick grayson

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ghostsprettymama · 8 months

Text

Task force 141's secretary.

Simon " Ghost " Riley - intended for black chubby readers

Unprotected, raw, meat to meat, pussy eating, daddy kink praising, degrading, breeding kink

You were the new secretary, you handled files on missions, peoples files, Scheduled meetings. Whatever, you just did it.

And god you were so good at your job. Sittin pretty, those pretty tits lookin so good in every bit of clothing, that fat ass just lookin good in every pair of pants, skirts, anything.

A hum escaped your lips as you typed away, the task force was away on a mission. As always of course. On yout wrist was a braclet from roach, it was like a welcoming gift yet a friendship token in a way.

You knew everyone, and everyone knew you. Except for him. Few weeks later, when everyone came in after a needlessly long mission. They were tired,angry or even upset, not even Roach spoke to you.

But that didnt bother you, there you saw him. your eyes wandered to his beautiful brown eyes, they looked so beautiful to you. He caught you staring, didnt mind it though.. he was talking to Captain John Price. His back was to you. To price, Ghost was looking at him, but in reality hes staring into your eyes figuring you out.

You tilted your head smiling. A soft wave came from you. you put those pretty nails on display too. Shit John for some reason paid for it, he was a wonderful man. When John left, you waved ghost over. He was curious. So curious if you were just like the other secretarys before you.

"Whats your deal?" He asked. Being completely straightforward "Whats your name?" You replied with a question. "I asked you first.." he added on "two is bigger than one, seconds usually the best.. sooo" you said, tilting your head. "Gho- "no, your name " you interupted.

He sighed. You were a presistent one, he could tell already. "Simon." He said, his eyes rolling like the sassy bitch he was "Now I answered yours, answer mine." He demanded, his hands on the counter top as he looked down at you. You typed away laughing softly. You smiled tilting your head softly. "Im just a secretary.. Y/n L/n." You said.

"I know who you are... your friend doesnt shut up about ya. I mean why were you staring." He replied, in response you raised your eyebrows "Thats it? I just think your eyes are beautiful, like a forest during autumn... Something cold and relaxing." You said, your eyes still locked with his. that kind smile never leaving.

He was caught off guard.. the man was so used to women just being extremely vulgar to him, but you..you were a sweetheart.

For months you talked to him longer and longer. One by one he got closer with you to the point... you were now in dorm on base doing his face paint. Ghosts fingers danced between your braids.. you sat on his lap. his other hand rested on your ass holding you up, you were so close he could just kiss those pretty lips.

His eyes stared at them as his thoughts were betraying him. What would yout lips look like taking him in? Or gasping so softly as he filled your cunt??? He needed to know this scientific information.. but what he really cared about is what they felt like.

His thumb brushed against your lips as he made a soft "mmh" in delight at how soft your lips were. "Simon? What was that about..?" You chuckled holding his face. Yes, he trusted you to the point you could hold his face, shit. even come near it.

He leaned into your touch like a cat, closing his eyes softly. Simon was like this at times, with him, you werent always gonna get an answer. You repeated his action but on his hands they felt rough. He had rough, big hands.. you gave his free hand a massage with your free one. He liked it which you assumed since he didnt open his eyes yet.

When you finished and moved your hand, his hands returned to your ass. you bit your lips getting flustered " what is it Ms Y/n? Mmh..?" He sounded sleepy, he was. He fell asleep briefly when you held his face. His raspy sleepy voice..that...thatll do it for you.

You burried your head into his neck as you felt your own wetness. Ghost felt it too after all your on his lap "you like that..? Me talkin to you like this...?' He whispered in your ear.. teasing you.

"Simon dont tease.." you replied. Your hands on his chest feeling his muscles, your hands traveled to his abs which made you squeak. You didnt know he was gonna be built like this..

Simon listened to your wish and flipped you over over. In the mating press position, instictively your legs gripped him in place. He grunted slightly at the strength of your grip, he could break it if he wanted, but he didnt want to.

"I want you. Youre s' pretty.. so smart... i just want you so bad." You admitted to him, he removes the baclava, his pretty blonde eyelashes, beautiful short blonde hair "dont start complainin pretty." He said kissing you so lovingly.

He was soon exploring your naked body, biting and sucking, when he found that beautiful fat cunt of yours he went to absolute town. His eyes, alike a predator staring at his prey as he ate your pretty pussy out. When you gripped his hair he moaned.

Such vibrations made you shove his head in as if it could be inside any deeper, for hours he teased your clit, eating you like his last fucking meal. Every so often you heard his pussy drunk cracking voice "mine.. only mine.. this pussy 's all mine.." he gripped your thighs making sure you knew.

"Ouu fuck im gonnna cum again daddy-"when you said that your mouth CLASPED shut, you could see simons sick and twisted grin. "Call me that again.." he said, and of course you did and his eyes closed in delight. You rode his face but he didnt need help. he held you still as he went back to his job forcing your legs behind your head.

Every moan you silenced he smacked your ass making you moan so loud "daddydaddydaddydaddy ohfuckimgonnancumucantholdit" you moaned out "cum in my mouth baby. Reward me. I deserve it princess dont i?" He said and you nodded squirting in his mouth as your body twitched.

You thought that was the end of it, nah. You heard a belt unbuckling. Pants unbuttoning, and then dropping, you tried to look but he shoved your head back down. "Want s' more baby? Do you think you could be good n take me? Like a good girl right?" He coo'd looking at you.

"Yes sir..." you replied, he gently smacked you "atta girl!" He smacked your cunt making you flinch a little . His tip aligned with your entrace, teasingly slow.. then... SLAM !! His cock went in rather easy from how soaked you were..

He couldnt hold back, he was thrusting relentlessly into your cunt, you were so wet that your juices got on his shirt. You were so embarassed covering your face. Ghost shook his head. " cant have you doin that pretty. I wanna see that face..." he said, he took it as he wasnt going good enough if you had the time to be embarassed.

He changed his pace as he worshipped your body with so.many.kisses. little "mines." As he pounded your cunt, you couldnt think. All you knew was hpw good you felt "mmhgfuck oh daddydaddydaddy m gnnnacumagain pleasee?" You moaned, you were teary faced, smuged makeup and all.

He smirked "mmh. You can wait baby" when you whine,Simon mocked you gently smacking your face again, anything this man did.. you love it. He had his hand on your stomach as he stuck his tongue out,this fucking slut man.

"Mmh... oou god baby im s' close. Want me to fill you up?? Yeah??' He asked,all you could do was nod." Cmon. Cum with me baby..i know you can" he said gently rubbing your face before planting a harsh smack on your ass.

He didnt stop thrusting, his hips stuttered as he filled you up with his hot seed, slamming every bit that came out back into you, as of course you both came at the same time...

A/N : Did you guys like this?😭im trying smt new

#shawtytharula #black reader #cod mw2 #cod ghost #ghost smut #simon ghost riley #task force 141 #task force 141 smut #black reader smut #black reader fic #chubby reader #black chubby reader #munch simon ghost riley era

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