#no one needs to know

[aaltilis]

Charles: Where are you two going?

Pierre: We're about to dig a hole in the parking lot -

Yuki: And then call it 'love'

Charles: But, for what?

Yuki: So we could see people fall in love.

Charles: ...

[il0veaphr0dite]

NOT ENOUGH TIME

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

A/N: Sorry I haven’t uploaded in a while I've been sick😪 as an apology here’s some spice!

SUMMARY: Minho came back from the maze early for some alone time with you.

WARNINGS: Making out

WORD COUNT: 505

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

You were on your way to the kitchen when you were pulled into the map room.

Confused, you look up to see Minho.

“Minho wha-“ you were interrupted by Minho's lips on yours.

It was rare to see Minho during this time, he usually didn't come back until later on, not that you were complaining. You barely get to see each other during the day.

The only time you two have alone is at night in his room (which you share), but even then he's too tired from running in the maze all day so seeing him during the day was a surprise.

His hands traveled to your waist as he tried to get you closer, making your back hit the wall and causing you to let out a gasp.

You pull away wondering why he's back early.

“Why are-” You were cut off again by his lips.

“Shh, I don't have enough time to explain,” he said in between kisses.

You kissed him back, not in the position to complain.

Your hands traveled to his hair, kissing him harder. His hands grip your waist tighter as he moves his leg between yours.

His cold hands travel under your shirt causing another gasp to leave your mouth. He begins kissing your neck as you try to protest.

“Minho we can't-” he kisses your lips not caring.

“What if we get caught?” Raising your head to give him more access.

“That's a problem for later” he begins unbuttoning your shirt trailing kisses from your neck to your breasts.

You tug at the hem of his shirt, signaling for him to take it off, he catches on to what you were signaling and takes it off, leaving you with a view of his abs and muscular biceps, which you love.

You flip him around, making his back hit the wall, your hands trail down his abs as you begin kissing him harder.

Minho was usually the one to make the first move when it came to stuff like this but you would periodically take the lead.

You tug at his belt, causing him to take it off.

“Minho?” you heard someone yelling causing you to pull away.

Minho quickly put his belt back on. “Shuck”

“Who’s that?” you ask, buttoning your shirt.

“It's Ben, he told me he had to do something and to meet him outside the map room.”

You quickly fixed your hair, hoping your face wasn't flushed.

Minho put his shirt back on. “I'll head out first then” you said.

And with that, you kissed him goodbye and opened the door to be met by Ben.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” he spoke, plainly confused.

“Minho's inside,” you said, ignoring his question as you walked past him, hoping he didn’t suspect anything.

As you were walking away, you heard them faintly talking.

“What was Y/N doing here?” he asked Minho.

“Slim it” Is all you hear before the door closes.

Let's just say that night you both finished what you started.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

[toshidou]

Let Me Be Your Lifeline

Pairing // Simon "Ghost" Riley x gn!Reader

Word Count // 2.2k

Tags // gender neutral reader, descriptions of injury, blood, Simon has a panic attack/ptsd attack, hurt/comfort, soap gets mad but lowkey understandably pls don't hate him, reader's alias is Siren, swearing, you help Simon when he needs you most (because you're amazing like that), established relationship

AN // you ever just have the thought of simon just Losing it because you get hurt, and the idea of him just. shutting down spurs you to write just over 2 thousand words about it? no? just me? cool. also this has barely been re-read, so if you see any spelling mistakes, no you didn't <3

Wrong

It’s all gone so hideously wrong.

It was never a simple mission to begin with, retrieving stolen information from people who would die to keep it in their possession. But it was something you had all done before, something you should have been more than capable of pulling off without so much as minor injuries.

The horrifying reality is setting in quickly though, your hand clutched to the left side of your collarbone, shuddering breaths pushed through gritted teeth as Soap attempts to shout something over deafening gunfire for merely two buildings over.

“We’ve got two down, Gaz is working his way to us, Ghost isn’t answering comms. Price is fine, the bullet passed through his leg, but Siren got hit below the left shoulder, they’re losing blood fast, the bullet made a clean entry through the back.” You’re barely listening to the reply from the evac squad, all you catch is an approximate time to pick up, 5 minutes. Apparently, there’s a medic on board. Every cloud and all that, you think, your head lolling down to assess the damage for the 4th time in 10 minutes.

Blood runs in nauseating streams between shaking fingers, soaking your uniform through to the skin underneath, the rough material sticking painfully to your wound, coaxing a hiss from bitten raw lips. Johnny’s eyes don’t leave you, worry etching itself into every fibre of his being, from his tense posture to anxiety ridden eyes, darting over various parts of your body as if examining for more wounds.  

“Fuckin’ Christ L.T., how fucking copy,” He grits out, fingers holding his transmitter-receiver so hard that even in your shock ridden state, you worry it might just crumble in his hands. After another few seconds of tense silence, he speaks again, “Captain and Siren are down, evac is in T-4 minutes, and you need to get your ass down here right now, I don’t know where the fuck you are or what you’re doing, but if you miss the deadline, we’re leaving without you.”

For the first time since being shot, tears well against your lashline, unable to tell if your head is shaking as ferociously as you want it to in your weakened state. They can’t leave him behind, they can’t do that. He’s their squad member, their Lieutenant, your partner, the love of your life. You refuse to ever leave him behind, would rather they let you bleed out on this manky floor before you ever let that happen.

And then, a crackle.

“This is Ghost, package received.”

It’s relief that floods your system initially, pure unadulterated elation that he’s alive, he’s alive and he’ll be back, he won’t leave you.

But then his words sink through the cottonwool that seemingly clogs your mind, the gears turning enough to figure out that despite being compromised only a few minutes into the start of the mission, he still went for the stolen information.

In retrospect, that shouldn’t have been so shocking, but after months of domestic bliss with Simon Riley, you had almost forgotten about the Ghost. Neglected the memories of a man who was driven by a near suicidal need to complete missions handed to him. And it fucking hurts, more than the bullet hole through your shoulder ever could.

“What the fuck do you mean package fuckin’ received, we called for a retreat 20 minutes ago Ghost, you were meant to be here, not fucking around trying to find something we could have–,”

“That’s enough, Soap.” The interruption comes from Price, somehow looking as composed as ever despite his injury, the only sign he had been hurt at all were the slight tremors to his hands as he reaches up to his own transceiver.

“Just get yourself back here son, in one piece, preferably.”

“Affirmative, Captain.”

You close your eyes, willing away the tears that threaten to roll down dirtied cheeks, because if you cry, it makes this real, and not some twisted nightmare you’ll surely awaken from, safe in the strong arms of your love.

“Siren, come on, I need you to keep your eyes open, stay in the room with us, okay?”

Gaz? That’s new. Gathering enough strength, you lift your chin, eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks as you try to focus your gaze on him.

“There we go, we’re not done with you yet, Sergeant.” Gaz pins you with a reassuring smile, his hand coming to pat your knee as he crouches next to you.

“Ah, I knew you were all just using me for my impeccable combat skills and wicked charm,” you drawl, your lips turning up into a hint of a smile.

“Impeccable combat skills that got you shot in the shoulder, no less.” Despite feeling weak, and slightly woozy from bloodloss, you still don’t miss the opportunity to lightly shove at Gaz’s torso.

“Soap, we’re half a klick out from your location, be ready to extract in 30 seconds."

The momentary light-hearted banter is immediately quashed by a terse silence, the dawning realisation that Simon still isn’t here.

He still isn’t there when you hear the sound of a Humvee tearing down the road to the derelict building you’re all hiding in.

He still isn’t there when Soap creaks the door open, only to be met with a medic and two soldiers carrying stretchers.

He still isn’t there when both you and Price, much to the Captain’s chagrin, are assisted onto thick green gurneys, and carried into the back of the vehicle.

It’s only when your nerves have been frayed to their very core, until you’re mere seconds away from diving out through the small car window when you finally catch a glimpse of someone tall, someone familiar, your Simon. Euphoria surges through your bloodstream, all feelings of pain as the medic begins to assist with your wound numbed by the knowledge that he’s okay, he’s safe, he came back to you.

You seem to be the only one even remotely excited to see him, however. From the moment he near dives into the side door, barely able to sit before the truck wheels spin against gravel and take off down an endless dirt path to supposed safety, a suffocating hush envelops the entirety of the squad. The atmosphere so thick, it suspends you in it, makes your limbs feel like lead where they fall limp at your sides.

Though no one dares speak, unwilling to risk the release of pent-up anger, frustration and fear that crackles through the air akin to static energy, wild and unpredictable, Simon’s eyes hold nothing but utter worry. Dark, frenzied irises flickering from your shoulder where the medic continues to care for your injuries, to your face, though never meeting your gaze head on.

You can already sense the guilt setting in, more than used to how his mind works, lost in a constant battle of morals he can never seem to win. It’s frustrating to watch the way he reprimands himself, shoulders hunched to his ears, hands curled into tight fists against his thighs. The once towering, formidable force reduced to someone human. Someone struggling.

But still, you daren’t say a word, now is neither the time nor the place.

30 agonising minutes later, and the truck finally pulls up outside a safehouse. An old, abandoned factory building, if you had to make a guess. The roof looks like it’s one strong breeze from falling off, but what else is new?

Simon doesn’t take his eyes off you as you’re assisted out of the truck. Doesn’t dare blink when you shoo the medic away and towards a grumbling Price. You try to shoot him your best reassuring smile, the gesture rendered meaningless when you nearly trip over a rock after your first step, only saved by Soap darting forward and steadying you with an arm hooked around your waist.

Simon doesn’t move a muscle. His feet remain planted to the floor below him, and you can’t help but get the sickening feeling that something is very fucking wrong. In all the years you’ve known Simon, you’ve never seen him like this, near paralysed, painted black eyes ridiculously wide, so childlike in their fear. He looks nothing like the man you’ve grown to love, strong and steady in his emotions. And it chills you to the bone.

It's only once the door creaks shut that the silence is broken.

“What the fuck was that, Ghost.” Harsh syllables highlighted by a Glaswegian accent sound from next to your ear, your head twisting to the side only to be met with gritted teeth and furrowed brows.

You barely have the time to process the way that electricity sparks dangerously in the dusty atmosphere before all hell seemingly breaks loose.

“That was me doing my fucking job, Sergeant.”

“Your job is to put every member of the taskforce at risk? When the fuck did you receive that order, Riley? Because I sure as shit don’t remember it.”

Ugly, torrid rage lashes out across the room like strikes of a whip, so powerful it sends you stumbling away from Johnny’s grip and towards more neutral ground, your eyes briefly locking with Gaz’s equally perturbed stare.

“I wasn’t endangering any of your lives by doing what I was trained to do MacTavish, you were all gonna make it out fine whether I completed the mission or not.” There’s something about him that feels entirely too off, though the mask is extending much further than the one that resides on his face. Except this one is splintered, it’s flawed, split edges giving away to insurmountable pressure until it has no other option than to disintegrate, raw, unfiltered emotions left exposed, completely vulnerable.

And all it takes to break down the wall that is Simon Riley comes from the other man opposite you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you Simon? What sort of fucked up person lets his team, his fucking partner, nearly bleed out on the floor? Look at them,” A lone, shaking finger points towards you, “They could have died and where the fuck were you?”

“That’s enough, Soap.” The syllables scratch your throat with the force you spew them, but the damage has already been done.

You know that the second you glance at Simon and see nothing but the broken shell of a man, that you were too late. His body is vibrating with the force of his shakes, tremors wracking his body from head to toe, his chest heaving with ragged breaths, like a fish starved of oxygen. He’s having a panic attack. Or a flashback. Or something worse.

“Simon,” You call, keeping your voice calm as you swiftly approach him, ignoring the harsh twinge of pain as you lift both your arms up to curl your fingers around either side of his face, guiding his empty eyes down to you, “I’m right here, you’re safe, you’re okay.”

He gives you no sign that he’s even processing your touch, let alone your words, but you expect about as much. You may never have dealt with Simon’s trauma, but that doesn’t mean it’s new to you.

You keep talking to him, hushed, soothing reassurance along with sweeping fingers against masked cheekbones, physical and verbal reminders that no matter the size of the internal battle he faces, you’re right there with him, guiding him through. It’s only when large hands encircle your wrists do you feel any form of relief, brought nearly to tears as hollow brown eyes slowly ebb to life, pupils shining in the low light of the safehouse.

“You’re here.” His voice sounds scratchy, as though his inner cries were so visceral, they tore at his vocal cords, begging to be released. You’re not sure if you could ever handle hearing such noises from him, not without them plaguing your dreams for years to come

“Always.”

Your response has him crumbling, knees sinking to the cracked concrete floor with a resounding thump; strong arms come to wrap around your waist, near crushing you in his desperate grasp. You say nothing, simply cradling his head to your sternum, fingers soothing over the top of his mask as through they were threading through familiar strands of soft hazel.

You don’t have to look around to know that you and Simon are alone. That it’s safe for him to fall apart here, so you can tenderly piece him back together without prying eyes. You don’t care how long it takes, all you know is that you’ll be there to search through the rubble of his mind and find a new foundation, together.

It’s only after you’ve guided him to sit, swiftly placing yourself in his lap and pushing your bodies together until not a single space exists between you both, do you finally feel him settle against you. Your fingers hooking under his mask, lifting up, up, up, until you’re met with the face of your love, your Simon; the Ghost long forgotten as you place the mask on the ground beside your intertwined bodies.

Surprisingly, it’s him that brings your lips together, eyelids fluttering shut as you sigh against his mouth, following his hesitant lead, a kiss with the only intention of reassuring him that you’re still here, you’re still his.

And hours later, when you both lay on uncomfortable stone floor, arms and legs indistinguishable where they tangle together, you know it to be an irrefutable fact that despite his own beliefs, Simon Riley is by far the strongest man you’ve ever met.

But for those moments when he can’t be strong for himself, you will always be there to catch him, to piece him back together and remind him that he’s still whole, still human, and still yours.

Always yours.

[snootlestheangel]

Some Silly Shadow OC Stuff

Snootles is on something (not drugs just a weird wavelength of brainrot) so ignore her while she rambles aimlessly about her Shadow Company OCs ****Moose is @cod-dump 's OC not mine****

Flash has a beautiful singing voice (i've probably said this before but he's like angelic, okay). A song that screams Cole "Flash" Halley is "Selene by Imagine Dragons". Every time I hear it, I have this little mental image of our beautiful blonde bombshell just dancing around in his bottlecap covered jean jacket. It's funky and fun and just it's my little Flash boy

Flash started having his sexuality crisis after joining Shadow Company. He swears the two aren't related.

Flash unable to decide if he wants to be demolished by a bear or make sweet love with a woman

Ness is ace, Flash is the definition of a bisexual disaster, and Woody definitely experimented with his sexuality when younger

Flash is so lanky I can't- He's got the longest fucking legs and they're so skinny and so of course he rocks a nice pair of skinny jeans. Better yet, cuffed skinny jeans *dies cause he's too cute*

Truck: You fucked around *cocks shotgun* Truck: Now it's time to find out

Flash: Man, women are incredible! I fucking love women! I'm so straight *meets Gaz* Flash, panicking: Oh god, oh fuck-

Ness, to Woody: I fucked up Woody: How?? Ness: I was trying to explain something to the commander but I couldn't get the words out for the life of me and so I just started crying instead. Woody: ... Ness: I don't want a father figure, please help me fix this Woody: *bursts into laughter* Ness: IT'S NOT FUNNY! I DON'T NEED A FATHER FIGURE! Woody: *laughing harder* Ness: PLEASE! I'M TRYING TO IGNORE MY DADDY ISSUES, NOT MAKE THEM WORSE!! Woody: *choking from laughing too hard*

Flash, hanging out in Moose's office just rambling: Ya know, I'm definitely a tits kind of guy. Like, boobs are nice, but men can also have titties, ya know? And man titties are nice too Moose: *turns around slowly to stare at him* Flash, realizing what he said: Wait what-

Flash's mental image during that last conversation:

And yes, Flash would simply cease to exist if he ever met Farah and Alex. They'd be too powerful for his bisexual ass

[jikangairodo]

𝗚𝗘𝗧 𝗧𝗢 𝗞𝗡𝗢𝗪 𝗠𝗘 𝗕𝗘𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥.

ALIAS / NAME: i'm Nero everywhere. Jay if you wanna get rly up close and personal. i may scream and skitter off like a cat tho, fair warning

BIRTHDAY: October 9th

ZODIAC SIGN: a quintessential libra tbh, complete with the indecisiveness and empty brain

HEIGHT: 5"2-3 if i stand very straight. I'm holding onto that 1 inch like my life depends on it

HOBBIES: doomscrolling, video games, drawing, writing, plants

FAVORITE COLOR: green and believe it or not, beige

CURRENT BOOK: i'm in the process of reading all the fics put out by the last exchange event i participated in. there's at least 3 30k fics included and 23 smaller ones. i'm counting them all as 1 giant book idc

LAST SONG: does it count as a song if it's a 1 hour long mashup of 80's bollywood tracks? im a little filmi

LAST FILM / SHOW: movie- Dunki (do not recommend) last show- Severance (so good)

INSPIRATION: anything I watch/ read/ see, as in art. real life experiences

BEHIND URL: Nanami says it one time is2g. It was like my 7th choice. ratioed was taken =/

FUN FACT ABOUT ME: i have 200+ plants. mostly hoya but i have a good few philos in there. I picked up urdu while growing up and watching bollywood movies??? my muslim, bangladeshi parents, raising me in posh, central london really thought, why not add some more cultural confusion into the mix??? what could possibly go wrong??? i had an identity crisis, mum

TAGGED BY: @antishaman my beloved

TAGGING: i think most people i would've tagged have been tagged already? if not, consider this my tag <3

[radiocryby-fm]

CW// NOT REAL GORE; SEMI REALISTIC HEART , BLOOD!!!

🍴Dinner for two

Happy birthday gift for Moppo!! After I heard one of Prims stories, I had to draw something that would have a deep meaning!!! (featuring Prim by @moppopus)

[petit-papillion]

I NEED charles to wear the pink mushroom pants so bad (v unlikely that he’s gonna wear it but I want it so bad)

I know, right?! They even come with a matching jacket - and we all know how much Charles loves his matching outfits...

[murmurmurl]

ohh what a day to be a gay little creature

[muddlemore]

Bought a Roblox gift card from GameStop and bro fucking announced it 😭

[moominpopzz]

Every time me and @skylar328 get hyperfixated on the same thing I become one of those writers locked in the basement of a sims house so she can make me write fics for her

[queerponcho]

i cant wait for my breast reduction surgery. so sick of the constant unwarranted sexualisation and looks i get. the backpain and the expensive never comfortable bras. so excited to be rid of those things. gotta lose weight first tho…fucking insurance wont pay otherwise🙃

theres no reason for this post except frustration

[bendableclown]

Shoutout to the fake top layers I use to hide my more… unsavory works from the public eye

They are always so silly!!

[springusdingus]

pov: you say some stupid shit in a wrestler's twitch chat like 'big meaty men slappin meat'. the wrestler on stream repeats this. you say it again at an afterparty because god dammit, it's a good joke and you're not letting it go. everyone has a good laugh. two years later you're watching a crowd scream MEAT on your tv every time two men slap each other and you wonder where your life went so wrong

[blackplaaague]

Maybe if I tagged more posts "the onceler" and "sciencecore" I could find myself an audience of fellow little freaks.

"Come on, where are all my fellow weirdoes? This is tumblr. Most of my followers don't even repost weird memes; I need, like, Gravity Falls fans to hang out with me"

--Me, moments before remembering the horrors of the Gravity Falls fandom, which pushed me out of fan culture for good.

[whatrblurbs]

CHEESEPIN MEI !1!1!1!1!

[fonkeloog]

Help

Does it count as a @wolfstarmicrofic if it's a snippet from something else? Ah, who cares! Here it is anyways :) the prompt for today is help

"Remus?" A grumble sounds from the sleeping boy next to Sirius, and he feels kind of bad for waking his boyfriend. Especially as the Full is getting closer and Remus needs all the sleep he can get.

"Remus, wake up." His voice trembles and Remus opens his eyes to look at his boyfriend. " 'm awake. Wassup?" The Welsh accent makes his voice sound even deeper then it usually is, but Sirius doesn't acknowledge it. And that's when Remus knows something is worrying him. "Padfoot? Are you okay?" "I'm scared Moons. What if I fuck up and she gets hurt? What am I even supposed to do? She can't touch the books and I can't read them cause they aren't targeted to me so we're not getting anywhere and-" Remus kisses him. "Shush. Lily is a tough cookie. You'll both be fine. I'm sure." "But what if-" "No. Worrying now isn't going to help you. What you need is rest, to focus on your research tomorrow."

Remus starts carding a hand through his hair, the same way he'd do if padfoot was laying next to him. Sirius slowly starts to doze away, the last thing he remembers being the "I love you" and a kiss to his forehead.