#doesn’t have ghosts in his head anymore lol

[kickbutts-singsongs]

You know what would be really funny? (bnha spoilers)

I’ve seen quite a few Dad For One theories lately, especially discussing Izuku maybe having the AFO quirk locked away behind that vault, and bringing in Yoichi’s commentary of that quirk having the potential to be the “kindest in the world”

And while I’m not really a DFO theorist, it’s still compelling (cuz I mean— why was Garaki Izuku’s pediatrician?? and he’s related to the dragon wing boy Izuku used to play with??? suspicious…)

Anyway, in light of this most recent chapter (412), Kudou’s encouraging Izuku to give up One For All

Sooooo ummm

what if instead of Izuku inherently having AFO, in the end, he and Shigaraki just—

switcharoo.

[catiuskaa]

𝐬𝐨 𝐞𝐟𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐥𝐲.

sum. felix can’t help it, and he can’t hold back anymore, because in the end, loving you comes out so effortlessly.

wc. 1.1k

cw. fluff! so many feels, my teeth are rotten after this

req! by my wifey @/stayconnecteed right here. won’t tag you twice cause you’re in the taglist lol. loved your idea! i’m so soft for felix ㅠㅠ<3

[🌼 ☆ 🥞 ☆ 🌼]

When he wakes up, the first thing Felix does is move his body right next to yours.

He basks in your now shared warmth with his eyes closed, and he smiles giddily, knowing that he isn’t hugging you so closely and tangling his legs around yours because of how cold he may or may not be. His hand slithers between your head and your pillow, and he can’t help but letting his heart flutter and creep with cheeky jealousy at the thought of your scent lingering in the bedsheets for days. He hopes his leaves a mark. But if it doesn’t, he’s free to come back whenever —your words, not his— and he sighs happily, still a bit sleepy.

With you now right where he knows you belong, not bothering if his arm will start to feel numb, he traces the outline of your face with his eyes, carving your face deep into his memory. Shyly, when he notices you stir awake, he closes his eyes, pretending to be asleep.

He can’t know what you’ll do, and the thought has him weirdly on edge. But his heart swoons when the next thing he feels is your arms around his torso. Your nose brushes against his, and the effort he makes to keep pretending to be asleep —merely to see what you’d do, now more out of curosity than anything— and not let his breath hitch or the smile creep up his face is harder than he once would’ve thought.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

It’s a whisper that falls from your lips and strokes his whole body. It’s the first time he wakes up right by your side, and he already feels like he’s conquered the entire world. He’s just woken up, and whatever you two have got going on has been going on for a couple months now.

But today, this morning —your first morning— somehow feels different.

He’s a bit cheeky, and he doesn’t want to yet open his eyes again, loving how unrestrained your hands linger on him. He loves how your hands find home on the small dent of his waist, and almost as cheeky as him, you move his shirt up, just enough to trail shapes on the small parts of now visible creamy skin. He loves how it may seem like the paths your fingers create are mindless, almost an excuse to keep your hands on him, but as he holds back a smile, he can notice that you’re doodling on his back. Little stars that he knows can’t compare to those up in the sky, because those don’t tickle like how yours do, they don’t make you get as close to him like how yours do, they don’t make his heart flutter and swoon and giggle like how you do.

And —what he feels like it’s the most important relasation he’s had in the past ten or so minutes he’s been awake— he doesn’t love them as much as he loves you.

He notices how your fingers turn soft and tender, the pointy sides of a star changing to rounder shapes, and he’s putty in your hands, because those are shy and cute little hearts.

You sigh and move away from him, and before he can even open his eyes to pull you back, his still allegedly asleep figure gets a sheepish kiss from you.

It’s weird, because he’s kissed you so many times before, but this is different. It’s different, he knows, because for more than just the second the peck lasted before he hears the door in the room creak and your steps dim as you head somewhere else in your appartment, the room falls away. There’s nothing else there except the ghost of the touch of your lips against his, and how his heart keeps missing beats and his hands tickle to bring you back and closer to him.

His eyes are open, and his hand moves to his lips, in a daze as Felix feels his cheeks blushing like crazy. His heart is shortcircuiting, screaming at him, and his brain can’t understand it, because it just feels like he isn’t its owner anymore. He wants to move from the bed and run to you, and then you’d hug him too, traicing the same little shapes as before, and while you hug, your hearts as close as they can be, not minding all the flesh and blood and bones in between as yours calms his, and it’s so wild and unrestrained that he feels the need to give it to you.

“Take my heart, take it.” He’d say in a murmur. “I’m afraid of it, of how desperately it wants to consume you and devour you whole. Take it, because it’s yours and it feels like nothing without you, and replace it with something easier to understand.”

The scent of tea and honey wakes him up from his day dreaming, and your silhouette comes back, and you smile when you notice he’s up, his eyes locked on yours.

“Good morning, princess.”

“Isn’t that my line?” Felix giggles, turning back to his side as you leave your hot tea on your bedside table and lay back into bed.

You chuckle too, sighing in deep comfort when his arms surround you again.

“Good sleep?” You ask giggling, your hands stroking his face. Best sleep, he doesn’t say. “You’ve got marks of the pillow all over your face.”

“Well, how do you know you don’t have them too?” He teases menacingly. He knows that you haven’t looked yourself by how your eyes widen softly, and he rapidly cages you against him.

“Lix, let me go check!” You laugh, failing to move away from his embrace.

“Nope. You’re staying with me, wrickles and all.”

It’s a battle of whose’s laugh makes them weaker first, and judging by how you relax and giggle gently, he’s the winner for this one.

His eyes glow as he stares at you, and you can’t stop giggling, seeing the stars you doodled on him before stare back at you, posing as freckles on his face and as shimmers in his eyes. You kissed him before leaving, risking waking him up to release the wave of affection that crashed against you when he was the first thing you saw to start your day. A small liberty that compares in the slightest to how he kisses you now.

And you both keep laughing, laughing as you kiss each other, and none of you can make up something better than the taste of the other’s laugh in you mouths.

Then you sigh, and lean you forehead against his. You’d kiss each and every one of his freckles without him asking, as if every fiber of your being was dying because it makes you feel alive, stronger than you’ve ever felt and it’s home, and it’s then and only then when you feel it with such a raw tinge to it that you can’t hold it back anymore.

And neither can he.

“I love you.” you both blurt out, a first time of many.

You both stay there, waiting for the world to catch up and keep spinning.

“Pancakes?” You mumble on his lips, your smile never faltering.

“God, you’re an angel.” He giggles, so, so, so in love.

[🌼 ☆ 🥞 ☆ 🌼]

kats, who now feels so fucking lonely, need me a Felix ffs.

catiuskaa, september 2024 ©

PERMANENT TAGLIST! @lyramundana @stayconnecteed

[vcnillazelda]

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

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

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

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

johnny and könig under cut

a/n: aaaaa this is adorable

✞———————❖———————✞

ghost

he’s nervous around you ngl

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

johnny

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

adores you and always praises your aim on missions

will always stick up for you, no matter what.

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

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

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

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

-

könig

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[heavenbarnes]

Oh my god. I just read your older!bf Simon returning from deployment and I LOVED it! It was so PERFECT.

Can you maybe do a part where he does decide to retire from the TF141 and decides to settle down? Stay home with reader and enjoy a normal life, without them having to worry that Simon might not return. I adore your writing style!

course i can 🫶🏼 got a headache, need something soft lol

when your older bf!simon finally makes the call, has the come-to-jesus with price- it doesn’t come easy.

they have to have a sit down, one where simon finally admits that he just can’t do it anymore. not with you around, not when he’s finally got something to lose.

it’s the nightmares that kick things off, that recurring one where he’s like an omniscient being looking down on you and the empty house. the one where you finally get that knock on the door.

it scares the shit out of him.

simon never used to think- let alone dream about his own mortality. that was until you.

he thought it’d be tough, that price would tell him how much the team needed him- how much king and country needed him.

“good choice mate, i’m proud of you”

simon managed to hold back the tears till he got home.

he hadn’t even told you what he’d planned, you’d definitely spoken about it but usually over dinner or when he was all soft and pliable post-sex.

the times where he could really see himself being normal with you. being safe.

you’d known the minute he walked in the door that something had changed. he wasn’t carrying an unbearable weight on his shoulders, for one.

“simon- what’s happened?”

that broke the floodgates.

it was an amalgamation of all that’d been following him since he joined the force. learning to live with eyes in the back of his head. accepting his own fate. becoming a ghost.

that and hearing those words from a man like price.

simon was man enough to admit he was also dog-tired. mid-forties, set of shoulders that you could bounce bullets off they were so tense. his lower back was absolutely fucked these days.

he was so tired.

and here he was, locked in your arms as your ran soothing circles along his spine- softly cooing a gentle “shh” while he cried.

cried like a fucking baby.

anyone else knew about this? he’d turn inside out. but that was before you, that was before he learnt he could show you every ugly little thing about him and find you loving him regardless.

you who loved him whether he was a perfect soldier or a good man.

you who forgave him for everything he’d yet to forgive himself for.

simon had never felt so alive.

stay-at-home-husband looked good on him.

washing basket in hand, cursing at the machine (he’d loaded it so poorly). vacuum trailing behind him, getting caught on literally everything. dishwasher stacked at all odd angles.

you were just happy to have him home.

happy to walk through the door and smell the dinner cooking. happy to hear him in the garage fixing up his car. happy to hear him fixing everything that’d been waiting for him to find time.

happy to have him safe.

simon joined the local rugby club (after you’d made him get a regular physio). he’d laid a pretty wee garden under the kitchen window for your herbs. he could usually be found at your elderly neighbour’s house, carrying her groceries in and staying for a brew.

he’d been allocated a military issue fresh start.

[w3r3theli0nshunt]

POV: waking up with your boyfriend: Soap, Gaz, Ghost, Price & könig

141! + könig x gn!reader

!So these are my head-cannons for how the guys would wake up if they were in a relationship. I may be wrong or maybe not, but there’s no wrongs or rights when it’s head-cannons ;) This is not gender specific so it applies to everyone and anyone.

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐧𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈!!!

Enjoy!

꧁✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽꧂

★He’s definitely the type to sleep in, which means you usually wake up before him

★He is the cuddle master

★Loves when you put your body weight on him, he loves the pressure

★During spooning, he prefers to be the big spoon

★If he wakes up and notices that you’re not in his arms, he will wrap his arms around you and draw you closer there’s no escaping him hihi

★If you wake up earlier and try to get out of bed, he tighten his grip (in his sleep, bc you’re not leaving)

★Uses his puppy eyes to try and persuade you to stay in bed with him for another few hours

★Do not care if you tell him that you have to go to work, he doesn’t want you leave his tight embrace

★Definitely has a bad morning breath bc he sleeps with his mouth open and snores loud

★Prefers to sleep in boxers only and like it when you sleep in your underwear only, makes it feel more intimate when he feels your skin against his

★If he wakes up before you, he’ll gently wake you up with smooches and kisses all over your head

★Always comments on when (if) you talk in your sleep and says it’s cute, even if you feel ashamed of it.

★Enjoys listening to your (soft) snores, it means that you’re close to him and that’s all he needs to be able to remain calm

★His body is scorching hot so you have to dump the blanket as soon as you wake up

★He’s a very affectionate fella and he’ll happily initiate morning sex with you to show it (also because he’s in general just a horny person with the slightest touch turning him on)

★You two wake up almost around the same time

★Tells you how cute and beautiful you look all the time, always manages to make you blush

★He’s a bit kinder during sleeping sessions, whereas he lets you keep distance if you accidentally roll away from him during sleep and let you roll back to him in your own time

★He’s def the guy to sleep in a tank top and a pair of joggers, he doesn’t really mind what you wear to sleep just as long as you’re comfy :)

★Loves leaving kisses on you when you’ve woken up

★His snores are more softer than Soap’s

★He moves a lot in his sleep which causes him to wake up in strange positions lol

★If he wakes up before you, he usually brush the strands of your hair while admiring your sleeping face

★He’ll happily stay in bed with you if you choose to initiate a cuddling session

★You’re his top first prior so he doesn’t mind getting a little late for a duty

★He’ll also (like Soap) initiate morning sex with you

★Has a soft voice which soothes you

★Definitely imagine a future with you, kids, marriage and stuff lovers do

★Kisses you softly on the mouth then leaves a few pecks on your cheeks and head

★His scratchy beard will wake you up

★If he wake up before you, he’ll wake you up as well with kisses and nose against nose rubs

★Will always call you by a nickname (your name is not y/n anymore, it’s ‘love’)

★Loves being the big spoon while cuddling and sleeping

★He’ll leave kisses on you even in the middle of the night if he’s awake

★You’re not safe from his showering affections

★Always prepares breakfast in beforehand

★If you wake up before him, you better still be in his arms or he’ll come and get you

★Def snores loudly, deafening loud and they sound like motor engines

★Has bad morning breath like Soap only a tad worse

★Will ask you the most random questions like “will you marry me tomorrow” or “if I were a worm would you still love me?”

★Will be a little moody before he gets his morning coffee

★Loves cupping your cheeks and kiss your forehead

★We all know by this point that he almost never sleeps, which means he’ll always be awake before you

★He lays dead still in bed, staring at you like this 👁️👄👁️

★He will never let you escape his life embrace, bc every time you move away from him in your sleep, he instantly wakes up because of the loss of you and as quickly as he wakes up, pulls back into his arms

★Only feel calm when he’s touching you

★He’s definitely not a smoochy and kissy person like the other guys, but he’ll leave a few if you’re lucky

★You’ll always wake up in his arms, no kidding

★He definitely mumbles and talks a lot in his sleep and despite his nightmares he lays dead still anyways

★If you show the slightest sign of recoil in his arms, he’ll instantly let you go

★Even though it’s against his will to let you go, he still do

★This man doesn’t wanna seem clingy or a burden so he’ll back away if you give off the slightest signs

★He definitely sleeps full covered and doesn’t care about what you wear when you go to sleep

★He never talks during the morning, he’ll just hum or grunt if you try and talk to him

★He won’t mind if you fall back asleep, so long as you’re close to him, he’s happy

★Never shows that he wants to cuddle or spoon with you, only let you initiate it first

★He’s definitely the ‘action shows more than words’ type

★Hmm, I think there’s an equal measure of when the two of you wake up first

★He’ll be clingy and sad if you move away from him in your sleep

★Like Ghost and Soap, he’ll always pull you back to him in a tight embrace

★Almost gets an anxiety attack if you’re not in bed when he wakes up

★Will also stare at you if he’s awake before you, before he showers you in kisses

★Very affectionate like Gaz and Soap

★Will call you by German nicknames like liebe, schatz, mein ;)

★Will literally beg you to stay in bed with him by tightening the embrace when you try to pull away

★Doesn’t let you go, even if you need to go to the toilet

★Loves burying himself in you with your arms around him, makes him feel safe and loved

★Absolutely loves cuddling with you and he doesn’t really care about who’s the big spoon, just the fact that you’re close to him

★Would absolutely stitch his skin to you if it meant that you’ll always remain close to him, even during sleep

★Will wake you up he’s having a nightmare which makes you console him

꧁✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽✽꧂

[machveil]

Trying not to think about Simon 'Always Doing Acts of Service and Caring for Others Silently' Ghost Riley forgetting to care for himself as much, and how it would probably touch a part of his heart he thought wasn't there anymore if someone did the same for him. Something simple, like just a new jacket after his old one got wrecked from wear and tear, that's thick and durable but soft and comfortable, a nice weight on his shoulders but doesn't make him sweat, resting over his chair. Or after a long day of work where he's dragging himself along, finding a meal already made for him sitting in the fridge, something actually cooked and seasoned the way he likes so he doesn't have to think about cooking or go to bed on an empty stomach. Idk, this has been rattling around in my brain all day and I needed to get it out, sorry if this is weird! Also really like your art and writing, congrats on the 1k, you deserve it and so much more!

anon I’m smooching your big, beautiful brain (I wrote this in one sitting, hope it’s not terrible lol)

Simon Riley is a man of action - Ghost, the most literal manifestation of serving. Ghost follows and gives orders to assure his team, his friends, make it home safe at the end of a deployment. as a Lieutenant, Simon wouldn’t say it out loud, but he cares so deeply for his team. Task Force 141 is a second home to him, more so the people, and thus makes it his job to protect them

but Simon Riley is also a man of action off duty - a civilian who’s heart rests in your hands. loyal as a dog, Simon would do anything for you. a man of action, he’ll insist you relax, you shouldn’t lift a finger for something small. anything Simon can do in your stead he will. because, while his team is a second home, his true home is you

but Simon, stubborn and strong as he is, gets tired. front door clicking shut, mask already being tugged off, his muscles are tense and sore after a long day. dirty blond hair messy and eyes half lidded with exhaustion, he’s still only got one thing on his mind - to serve you and make you happy. he already planned on trudging into the kitchen to make dinner, something simple but filling. he pauses when he smells food already though

kicking his boots off, worn and dirty, he makes his way to the little kitchen around the corner. cracking a small, barely there smile at the sight in front of him. you, moving about the kitchen. the lights a little dim - he’d change the lightbulb later, and there you are, cooking a meal. one step ahead of him, and he soaks in the domestic scene. a part of him wants to step in, tell you you’ve done enough and he’ll finish everything off… but he doesn’t have the heart to disrupt this cozy, intimate moment

it’s only when you see him does he approach, hands a touch too rough and calloused - he’s sure you’ll make him moisturize later. “Smells nice, lovie.”, he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your hairline. eyes fluttering shut as he holds your hands, a small grin tugs at his lips, “S‘pose the food smells good too.”. he relishes in the laugh that leaves you, the way you squeeze his hands. he moves to press a kiss to your jaw, slightly crooked nose nudging against you as his hands wander to your hips - touch featherlight, as if handling you any rougher might shatter you

there’s a reluctance in his heart as he lets go of you, scoffing when you tell him to go sit down. “Bossy little thing.”, he mumbles, voice lighthearted as he leans back against a counter. he stays there for just a moment, one last glance at you happily cooking - cooking for him. it melts his heart knowing that you’re just a loyal as him, that you’d both run to the ends of the Earth for each other

he’s content to finally relax, leaving the kitchen to slump against a chair in the small dining room. head tilted back a little as he rolls his shoulders, his hands move to idly take his belt off - he’d change later, a hot shower after dinner always made him feel better. maybe he’d convince you to join him, better yet— maybe he’d convince himself to indulge in a hot bath instead. and when you join him at the table, sitting down next to him with a full plate for him, Simon feels butterflies in his stomach

he loves eating with you, sharing a meal and letting his guard down. gaze smitten as he listens to you recount your day, breathing steady as he hums. and when everything is done, stubborn man, he’ll take the dishes to the kitchen. as much as he’d like to wash them straight away, he settles for leaving them in the sink tonight. soon enough he’s sweeping you up in his arms - no matter how roughed up and sore he is, he always finds the strength to carry you. he’ll ignore any protest that, “Simon! I can walk—“, a gruff chuckle rumbling in his chest, “Know that, love, but I can carry you just fine.”

and from then on, Simon feels like he’s floating. in a dreamlike state, he sets you down on the cool bathroom floor, feet making contact with tile. gently thumbing at your hips, he presses a soft kiss to your lips, “Thank you.”. soft spoken words contrasting his gravely voice, another kiss pressed to your cheek - lips a little chapped, but he’s never heard you complain about them

and when you help each other slowly strip, the bathroom filling with mist like steam, he feels the tension in his muscles give. he puts up a little fight, grumbled words, when you insist on sudsing him up. he’s all bark though, when he feels you rub his aching shoulders he feels like he could never muster up any bite ever agiain. comfortable and turning to putty in your hands, he’ll happily let you mould him into a soft, gentle man

he’ll lazily return the favor, rough hands lathered in your body wash. content. feeling you under his palms, warm skin dotted with beads of water and bubbles, Simon’s content. a warmth in his chest that he’s still not used to. the simple intimacy of washing away the sweat and filth from the day, it makes Simon feel like a new man - and to wash you? he’s happy you feel safe enough, that you trust him, to handle you so carefully

and at the end of the night, cleaned from the dirt of his daily life, Simon settles in bed with you. all gentle touches and soft, murmured praise - you did so good for him today. he fights the back of his mind off, you’ve taught him better than to believe those gnawing words. Simon Riley deserves this. a phrase you carved into his heart, long since settled at the forefront of his mind. and as he holds you to his chest, warm hand on the small of your back, he sighs deeply…

a man of action deserves rest

[that-weird-thing-in-the-woods]

The Beginning

:) I said I was going to write this lol. Hope you guys like it sorry for my words and stuff if you seen my other posts you can tell I have bad grammar

Anyway enjoy the story

Danny doesn’t know how long his been flying and it’s starting to take its toll and if he doesn’t see clockworks tower soon he’ll have to stop and take a break ( not to mention being incredibly injured )

Especially with him now being pregnant… whoa that’s really weird to say

As danny was thinking of that that’s when he saw Clockworks tower Danny let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding

Was it because of seeing a familiar face

Or was it the knowledge that They couldn’t hurt him anymore

Danny shakes his head like he’s trying to get rid of the thought. As Danny gets closer to the tower he stops flying and just floats to the main entrance of the tower ( he will most definitely fall if he doesn’t and he knows that ) there at the entrance is clockwork floating there as Danny sees him he starts to speed up and as soon as he reaches clockwork and just cry’s like the child he is…

Clockwork knew this had happened in other timelines.

Some where Danny ends up in a GIW facility being a experiment

Or where Danny goes on the run from the GIW or his own parents

Or where clockwork had hoped with all his core this timeline would be like where Danny’s parents loved him even if he was a halfa ( even if this universe is one of the rarest of all the timelines )

But when he saw Danny hold on to him like it’s the only thing that is keeping him from getting even more hurt than he already is

Danny has multiple cuts and bruises from different weapons and angles from where he was running and it looks like one of his ankles is barely holding on to a thread the bone is most likely shattered and there are multiple deep cuts around his neck like someone was trying to put a collar on him more specifically a shock collar that looks like it got a good few shocks in if the bit of burns on his neck were anything to go off of. And Danny has fallen asleep on him

Clockwork smiles softly at this and picks Danny up and brings him up to his tower he summons a bed to put Danny on while he heals him the best he can but some of the cuts around his body are going to scar and the cuts around his neck are some of the worse injuries that he’s seen on the boy in this timeline and the only ones this bad in this timeline. Now where would the boy go? Clockwork can’t take care of him and with his human half it would be impossible for him to live in the ghost zone so where would he go..? Clockwork thought about it for a few minutes before he remembered something a dimension and pocket dimension to be specific it has everything the boy could ever need but it does have a population of snakes that take care of the little place they call home and are not afraid of fighting off others if they are not a part of the nest but the boy does seem to like snakes what is it he called them once ‘danger noodles’ if he’s remembering correctly the boy always finds away to be endearing clockwork thinks before he goes to get the portal to the dimension this place will be the perfect place for Danny to live in with his unborn child he is currently caring for.

That’s all for the first part I hope you guys like it! Sorry if it’s a bit short this is my first time writing a fic. And the second part will be out soon anyway byeeeee (also here are the people who asked to be tagged I hope you guys enjoy the story)

@thatoneweirdshipper @phantasama @siluver



[milf-murdock]

My brain simply will not leave the Angst alone after writing this piece, so here’s a little part…well not quite part 2–consider it more of a part 1.5, if you will. How the rest of the 141 reacts when they believe 141!reader is KIA…

Read part 1 here

Special thanks to @sim0nril3y who lets me spam angst in her DMs lol. You keep me going

Price

You were a part of his task force. He was your captain. He’s feeling so much guilt and pain. Should he have approved this mission?? Should they have sought more intel?? Should he have gone with?? Was there any way he could have seen this coming?? The questions haunt him every night.

But he doesn’t get the luxury of giving in to his grief. He has Simon to worry about now, too. There is nothing Price can do for you anymore. But he can do something for Simon.

Price knew he had no choice but to send Simon on leave. He just knew that Simon was not in the right state of mind anymore.

Price was the first of the group to notice how you had started to slowly bring Ghost back to life, back to Simon. And now he has to watch as Simon falls apart right before his eyes.

Price goes to Simon’s house to check on him periodically. Simon never opens the door. But still Price shows up. Sits on the porch for hours. Waiting for Ghost to let him in. Eventually, he heads back to his car and drives home. But he’ll be back in a week or so.

Johnny

Johnny is left standing alone in his grief on an empty tarmac as the realization sinks in: he didn’t just lose you. He lost Simon, too.

Two graves. One detonation.

The grief feels like it might just swallow him whole. He heads out on leave as soon as he gets clearance, booking a flight back home. Surrounded by his loving family, the warmth and love showered down on him attempt to close the gaping wound in his chest. But it’s little more than putting a bandaid over a bullet wound. His mum frets over the haunted look in his eyes, those moments when he goes still, goes quiet—so unlike her Johnny.

Kyle

Kyle is sitting in the your favorite pub just off base on a Friday night where you do religiously met up to destress from the week. Two pints sit on the bar in front of him because, for just a moment, he lived in a world where you were running late as usual so he might as well go ahead and order two pints of your favorite beer while he waits. It’s not until the bartender sets both glasses down that he realizes with a start that you won’t be joining him. Not this time. Not ever again. He’d never get to hear you laugh again or hear you bitch about the new recruits and swearing that the standards must be getting lower and lower every year.

He downs both drinks as fast as he can and gets the hell out of there.

[sadnightforus]

NEXT LIFE  (JJH)

toxic-boyfriend!jaehyun x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS: You’re sick and tired of the on and off relationship you have with your boyfriend. He was a chaos and you were trying to tame it, overtime, it burns you and turns you into someone you don’t recognize. And you decide that you’ll walk out of this, to save both yourself and him.

WORD COUNT: 1.4K

WARNINGS: ghosting, neglectful behaviors, toxic toxic toxic, manipulation, self destructive behaviors on god, this makes my head spin.

A/N: i’m better at long one shot than a full fic. embarrassing. anyway, enjoy this charli xcx crumbs, i love love love next life by her (which is the inspo for this). also super fun fact, I wrote this on March this year and it's October now lol.

reblogs, comments and likes are appreciated!

 You both are at the river side, a popular spot for couples to hang out and strengthen their bonds. For you, it’s very far from the truth that you want to strengthen it, because you know it’s on the verge of falling and there’s no way to stop it from crashing and burning.

 It’s a nice day, you feel content. Or force yourself to feel content with what you have. 

 Then you begin to think far, about how tired you are. How sick you are that your relationship with him played out like this and it never became better as time went by. But in one way or another, you found yourself going back to Jung Jaehyun, no matter what. 

 You think his heart is made of metal, that’s why he doesn’t care to change.

 Love can be so pure, but so poisonous, and you’re on the receiving end of the latter. You can barely recall what love is supposed to be like anymore.

 Loving him is a form of self harm, you convinced. Why does it hurt to walk away even when you need to?

 You’ve always been more than understanding. You understand why people lie. You let people use you and throw you away many times, it’s the same thing with him. Nothing is more addictive than lies that come from his lips such as ‘I love you’ and ‘I’ll never hurt you’ are some of the few. And when he kissed you like he meant it. But you know he was kissing in an attempt to mend the broken heart and only then crushed it with his own hands. 

“I don’t think I can do this anymore.”  You blurt out, in the moment that you both are enjoying the riverside sight after all of the chaos, which earns a confused look from your boyfriend. You stand up, pulling the strap of your bag to stay on your shoulder as Jaehyun does the same. 

“What’s wrong?” He questions, stunned by the sudden change in your behavior that was just sweet moments ago. Despite that, his face never falters from the stoic expression and you find it so hard to read him.

“I want to break up for real. This time.” You breathe out, finding the courage and words that hides itself in the back of your brain, then gazing right into his eyes before continuing. “Thank you for everything. But we shouldn’t do this anymore.” 

 He reaches out to grab your hand, as if a sentiment for you to change your mind. There’s a different sparkling in his eyes, almost like he cares about your departure from his life. He shifts closer, analyzing your body language if you were being honest. “Do you? Do you not wanna do this anymore?” 

“Yes.” You find the courage to speak louder than you had ever been. Maybe it’s a false confidence, but you want to get out of this situation. He makes it so hard with the way he has been giving you those helpless eyes that made you want to rethink everything you’ve said. 

 Except you don’t. 

“But we can try again, can’t we?” He pleads, asking for another chance but you won’t crumble like you had done so in the past. 

“You say that every time, but that’s why this shit dragged on for 5 years! 5 YEARS!” 

 Perhaps your voice will most likely catch the attention of many if it wasn’t for the fact you both are the farthest as you can possibly be from the area where it has a few people. That much of a distance buys both of you the privacy of doing this in public. 

“I’m really sorry…” 

“Do you mean it? Do you mean it when you say you’re sorry?” It sounds condescending, but really it’s not. It almost sounds taunting, but he doesn’t miss the way tears are making its way out of your eyes. “You don't, right? You don’t. You always said sorry but then you’d go back to neglect me then we’ll fight and say it’s my fault. Then we’ll make up and then get along for you to ghost on me again. Tell me, what did I do for me to get that kind of treatment? Do people in relationships do the same thing as we did?” 

 His eyes shift around, uncertain of the outcome, although in his guts, he knows that it’s not as the same as it was before. That thought crashes him. He was overconfident that you would stay and tolerate him forever.

 Maybe he was wrong. 

 You have tried loving him and given him so many chances, but it was never easy– you watched him being self-destructive. Itt was the same old broken song record that you kept trying, hoping that you would be able to fix all of those errors. He was a beautiful chaos, but still a chaos that you needed to get away from.

 And you do indeed need to get away from him, everything has worn you down so much that you barely recognize yourself. You begin to wonder, why did you let him play with your heart this much?

“Are you aware that I’m just a human too? Every time I thought we could just be friends or change into someone better, you turned around and fuck it up. I DON’T GET YOU!” You yell, hot tears streaming down your cheeks due to frustration. “It’s not the first time you made me feel like this. I’m so fucking tired. Do you see how tired I am? DO YOU?!” You try to suppress your cries in an attempt to articulate your thoughts as you search for remorse on Jaehyun’s face. “We went back and forth so many times. My friends watched me bend my back for you, picking you up at the bar just because you fought with someone who ran their mouths. Aren’t you tired?”

“I am.” 

 His answer sounds as worn out as you are. “I’m sick of it too. But what can I do? I’m fucked up on everything. I’m lonely, you were my only hope. When you were gone, I wanted to get your attention and tie you back to me.”

“Why would you do that?”

“As selfish as it is, you were the only person who had your best interest for me.” And he ends it with “I’m sorry that I took advantage of your kindness. I’m too confident that I’ll get back up on my feet and you’ll still be there in the future. But I’m wrong.”

 You’re stunned, so stunned that you held your breath because you can’t believe what he was saying.

 Suddenly, you see the glimpse of the Jung Jaehyun that you fell in love with, before all of these catastrophic events. You wish that he hadn’t changed so much, because it’s too late to back out now.

 You turn around in an attempt to walk away, want to, but a hand stops you.

 “Let go of my hand.” Your voice trembles, betray the confident demeanor you had earlier as you were lashing out. 

“No.” He firmly answers. “If you promise to answer this question, I’ll promise that I’ll let you go.”

“Okay.” You turn back around, dancing him as you take in a look of him one last time, because you might never see him again. You pull your hand out of his grasp, and he doesn’t make a big fuss over it.

“Do you think somewhere in the parallel universe, we’re happily engaged and in love and I’m.. the best person you could ask for?”

“I think so.” You meet his eyes, which are bloodshot red from tearing up by now.

“That’s all.” He nods, biting his upper lips to suppress his cries. “Maybe we’ll be better in our next life.”

“Maybe in our next life, I’d think twice about this.” You sigh, then finally say out the words you want to say the most. “Goodbye, Jaehyun.”

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

 As you turn around to walk away from the river, heart heavy and body tense, there’s still Jaehyun who stands frozen in the same place since you had left him there.

 His eyes are piercing at your figure that slowly makes its way to slip out further and further from his sight. He wishes he can tell you this one thing.

“Maybe in our next life, there will be no goodbye.”

 But he has to accept that you’re gone, and won’t come back to him anymore.

COPYRIGHTED BY SADNIGHTFORUS, 2024

[lowkeyrobin]

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

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

TREVOR SPENGLER ; medium

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

warnings ; language

word count ; 313

masterlist

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

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

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

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

"Uh..."

"Oh, uh, sorry"

You quickly stand up and take Trevor into the hallway.

"Everything okay?"

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

"Oh, yeah, sure"

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

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

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

ghost animals :(

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[outofconcheol]

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! &lt;;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 💜

[undeadcannibal]

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

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

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

Warnings: None!

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

Price―

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

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

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

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

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

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

Soap―

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gaz―

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ghost―

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alejandro―

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

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

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

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

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

[i-smoke-chapstick]

‘ART DECO,

-GOTHAM!OSWALDCOBBLEPOT X READER-

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

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

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

𝛰𝑆𝑊𝐴𝐿𝐷 𝐶𝛰𝐵𝐵𝐿𝐸𝑃𝛰𝑇

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ll do it all again tommorrow.

[tokiwarcube]

I have a funny thought ! How would the boys react to their s/o meeting their parents. I feel like this would be hilarious or uncomfortable for the s/o (because they may get to see pictures of the boys when they were babies/kids or some of them talking about weird topics) but downright mortifying for the guys, because they’re parents are embarrassing at times, lol !!

And it’s okay if you don’t do this one, have a nice day or night :) 

I swear, I went into this with silliness and joy in my heart. But alas, not all of our boys had... passable parents. Not angst, but some of our boys are tinged with it.

Nathan Explosion

Maybe if he smashes the photo frames, he can gouge out his eardums so he doesn’t have to listen to this anymore. He regrets ever introducing you to them, and worse, he’s wishing death unto whoever created the fucking camera. How do they have this many photos of him? How do they remember such weird shit about his childhood? How does he not remember that phase, and how did they even get that photo? He hates every moment of this. I mean really, with how quickly Rose pulled out the baby albums, its like she’s been waiting for this moment her entire life. Maybe she has. And he knows his dad has too, with how readily he’s jumping on to add details to every little story. He knows you’re never gonna let him live any of this down.

He would like a copy of him, age 10, punching Donald Duck though. Now that, that was brutal.

Pickles the Drummer

If the stories that Molly remembered weren’t so damn embarrassing, he might feel happy that she remembers so much of his toddling years. But then she’s pulling out her phone to show you the old family photos she “sent to the clouds,” and she’s zooming in on one of his baby photos, and good God, he’s about to walk into the woods and never come back. He hates that stupid polo shirt.

He chooses not to comment on how she doesn’t talk about his teenage years, and he bites his tongue when the garage discussion comes up. Place a hand on his thigh to quell his bouncing leg before he loses it, please.

Skwisgaar Skwigelf

This could go one of two ways — either A.) She sets her sights on you, or B.) She doesn’t. The former is just about the most uncomfortable situation you could possibly be in, and no amount of reminders that you’re dating her son will dissuade her. When Servetta is over, Skwisgaar has learned to just keep his head down, ignore everything, and just practice his scales. But the moment she starts flirting with you? It’s the only time you’ve ever heard him miss a note.

In the latter case though, she does actually try to regale you with stories from Skwisgaar’s childhood… but they’re tinged with a sadness that frankly, I don’t think she entirely grasps. Stories of him holding her hair back in the morning, that time he punched one of her dates, or that time he walked home in the snow because he thought she forgot him at school… not all of the stories are like that, mind you, but they’re interspersed so casually with the normal ones that really, it leaves a rather heavy impression.

Toki Wartooth

He’s catatonic, and for better or for worse, doesn’t recall much of the meeting once they leave. He’s left with very faint memories, ghost-like in nature, of Anja silently encouraging you to go out on the town with her… but it’s all very foggy.

William Murderface

Now surely, murder has to be warranted in this case. How the hell Stella keeps finding him, he’ll never know — what he does know, however, is that he’s about to lose his fucking mind. Rationally, he knows that the stories she’s telling shouldn’t be that embarrassing — he still pisses in the apple bins at the grocery store, who gives a fuck? — but it’s the way she says it that just makes his anger boil and his face flush in embarrassment. You have to be the voice of reason for him, otherwise he might actually kill her this time.

[lennadanvers]

Tsar Bomba*

Johnny Soap MacTavish x Reader

A/N: This is just angst. I wrote it quite some time ago, but I guess it's time I post it. I'm not sure if I really like it, but at least it has a cool name lol. It may or may not have a part 2. The ending I have in mind is not happy, either way. Other than that, I guess the only TWs are mention of past trauma, mentions of a narcissistic father, past narcissistic abuse, and just Johnny fucking up. If I missed anything, please let me know and I'll add it.

*Tsar Bomba: Soviet thermonuclear bomb that was detonated in a test over Novaya Zemlya island in the Arctic Ocean on October 30, 1961. The largest nuclear weapon ever set off, it produced the most powerful human-made explosion ever recorded. (Amy Tikkanen, Encyclopaedia Britannica, 2024)

Soap is an asshole. A complete and utter idiot, with zero regards for other people and their feelings. A stupid pile of scottish-

“Aren’t you gonna go after’er?”

When Ghost is giving you relationship advice, you know it’s bad. Not like Johnny didn’t know that before Simon asked one of the most useless questions he’s heard. Which is to say something, because even he's asking himself that same question.

Am I not gonna run after her?

Of course, the question doesn’t come alone. It implies many others, each of them a punch to the guts.

Should I? Does she want me to? Would it change anything? Do I deserve to drag this any longer? Why would she want me to be with her? Is she even capable of forgiving me? Am I? How could I do it? Why am I so stubborn? Why couldn’t I just do as she said just this once?

Truth be told, most of the questions are accusations. Guilt. Johnny doesn’t fight them. On the contrary, he sides with the feeling in an absurd display of a split personality. One part of him punches, kicks and bites (sadly, in his head he doesn’t carry any guns… Which is, now that he thinks about it, okay, because he deserves a very long suffering); and the other bares the weakest parts of him: neck, belly, the way he’s always known he doesn’t deserve the love he needs… Both versions of him have red cheeks and wet eyelashes.

For the first time since he’s met you- but not the first in his life- Soap thinks he should die. The same way he knows any object he lets go of will fall to the ground, he should die. It’s the next logical step: he let go of you- more like threw your heart to the floor, the thought makes him flinch-, so now it comes the end. You ran out the door, and now…

Now you’re coming right back.

You’re stomping in his direction. You’re blushing, dark red cheeks and nose that he usually finds beautiful, but that right now look awful. Because it’s rage red, hurt red, indignation red;and it’s all directed to him. All provoked by him. Stupid, idiotic him. Asshole him.

Maybe it’ll help you, to yell exactly that at Soap. Even better, you’ll do it in front of Simon. His closest friend, his coworker, his superior… He deserves the humiliation. You deserve to inflict it. You deserve everything.

You stop where it’ll be clear you’re yelling at him, but not close enough for him to touch you- he wouldn’t dare, either way. Except you don’t yell. You just take a deep breath and clench your fists.

“I fucking told you, Soap.”, your voice is shaking, and so are you. And him, now that you didn’t call him Johnny, “I told you to not do that. I told you why I… Why he… I told you!”

You had told him. Twice. He even had asked about it the second time. “I don’t have a relationship with him. I haven’t spoken to him since I was in high school. I moved away as soon as I could, and I’m happy I did. He’s not in my life anymore”. You were so proud when you said that, that there wasn’t a place in your life for your father.

You give Simon a quick glance, and the man stares back at you. He’s not going to pretend he hasn’t been present for the whole interaction. He’s not going to pretend he isn’t listening to you. It clearly makes you uncomfortable, but Johnny is willing to let you know that Ghost will probably kick his ass after this- maybe it’ll help a little with the awkwardness.

Your voice sounds more like a growl when you keep talking.

“I said I never want to see him again! Why would you do that?! Why did you…! He knows where I live! He went to my fucking job, MacTavish!”

Your lips trembles. You’re breaking a little, and he doesn’t know what it is. Pain? Fury? Frustration? Betrayal? Fear? Whatever it is, you make it disappear with another deep breath.

Johnny is terrified. One deep breath and your whole face relaxed. Your eyes don’t look like they’re about to flood your cheeks anymore. It’s a mask that says nothing. You’ve closed off.

It’s a stab to his spine. He knows you used to do this. You used to cry in the bathroom, quietly, and come out like nothing happened. You used to not be able to let him know how you felt. It took you years to cry in front of him for the first time. To trust him. To learn that he was safe.

And he violated your trust.

“This is over. We are over. I warned you! You knew not to do this, the only thing I… I don’t… If you wanted to do it you should have said so, that way I wouldn’t have wasted… You had no fucking right, Soap! I fucking told you I hate him. He went to my apartment! He was there! Why would you…? You had no right!”

He opens his mouth. Doesn’t know what to say, though. Or, actually, he doesn’t know what he can say. Sorry? Not nearly enough. Not even a fraction of what he feels, and even less than a portion of what you deserve. Soap knows the only thing that would fix this, he can’t do: not having done it in the first place. Not tracking your father down. Not asking him to meet up. Not thinking he wasn’t that bad. Not telling him how good you’re doing, despite how proud Johnny was of you. He should have never asked him for his blessing to marry you.

But you don’t want to hear his silence any longer.

“Don’t! I don’t want to see you ever again. I hope you’re happy. You know him now, congratulations! Now you know everything. I bet he was so fucking nice with you. I bet he said he was so proud of me, even if I never treated him right, didn’t he?”

No, Soap is every opposite of happy. Yes, he said that. Yes, at the time he thought your father was nice. He wants to stab himself in the heart for thinking that. He knows that man was an awful parent to you- hell, he wasn’t even a parent.

But that was his mistake, wasn’t it? For Johnny MacTavish, family is the most important thing. Without family, nothing else is worth it. And seeing you celebrate birthdays and holidays only with friends, knowing your family was out there, far from you… He didn’t want that to happen in your wedding, too.

Key words: he and wedding. First mistake: it wasn’t about him. Fucking selfish asshole. Second mistake (this one was more of an idiotic fantasy that he didn’t deserve): wedding. Yes, maybe his father had asked his mother’s dad for her hand before proposing. And? Those were Johnny’s parents. Why in hell would you want him to ask someone else if it was okay for you to marry him?

“He does that! I’m not crazy... He’s- he's nice to other people! He’s manipulating you. And I’m not going to have that narcissistic bastard in my life. You and him can stay the fuck away from me! Even if you didn’t love me, there was no need to do it.”

Don’t love you? Soap wants to cry- his body is just frozen in place. He is a miserable person. All he does is love you. How did he manage to make you think otherwise? To make you feel otherwise? How did he dare do the only thing- the worst thing…?

Your head snaps violently in Simon’s direction, and Soap can almost see him bracing himself for what’s about to come. Which is an unnaturally calm and controlled voice.

“I’m sorry you had to see this, Simon. And I’m so sorry you have a friend who doesn’t understand boundaries or respect, at the very fucking least. I’ll put his stuff in a bag, and I’ll leave it with the doorman, in case you want to go get it for him. I’m sorry you got involved in this, I… I’m so sorry.”

There you are, apologizing again. Johnny was working on that with you. He had been for the past couple of years. But you’re doing it again, even though it is not your fault. It never is, and you’re always sorry, and he wishes he was dirt so at least you could step on him without feeling guilty. And he wants to rip his own heart out and hand it to you. He wants to use his stupid nails to scratch his stupid chest open, his stupid hands to break his fucking ribs and any other bone he can find in the way. He wants to crack his head open against the wall. He wants… It doesn’t matter what he wants.

Because you’re leaving.

You’re leaving, and you’re not crying. You’re so hurt that all the effort you did to open up, all these years working on learning how to be vulnerable, just disappeared. You’re back to the place you were when he met you. Except it’s worse now.

He made a mess. Johnny fucked you up.

For the millionth time today, he wants to die.

[deardjarin]

needs and wants

dom!gn!reader x sub!roman roy

rating: explicit

words: 1.3k

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

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

⋆⭑✦⭑⋆

Roman looks wrecked at the end of the night.

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

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

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

“Can we have sex?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I think I was pretty clear—“

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

“That’s it, just lean back, Rome.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good boy.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You heard me. Spit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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