#cipher writes

Hen is probably my favourite nickname/term of endearment that he would probably use I will not lie - I've yet to see anyone make use of it though!!

Ok ok ok I did get an idea for this and I hope I executed it in only this short drabble (is not 100 words but I don’t know what else to call it) - you wanted to be hurt? Then to be comforted? You got it. And listen- I gotta have some amnesia in there. If Soap if surviving a gunshot wound to the head, bruh probably sat in a coma somewhere until his ass got woken up. My man was in hell fighting the ghouls to claw his way back to consciousness. For who? Simon. Yeah, damn right.

I will also be very honest. Though I don’t write it, or ship it intensely, it’s a cute ship and I’ve got a rubber sword to bat anyone way that doesn’t like it. Come at me, Ghoap is a lovely ship and I love all art and such I see of it (even if I don’t actively do much for it myself yk?)

Enough outta me, you don’t want me yapping away, chatting for England 💀

Fandom: Modern Warfare 3 Reboot

Word Count: 396 (I think)

Relationship: Ghost x Soap

Characters: John “Soap” MacTavish, Simon “Ghost” Riley.

Drabble under the cut.

written july 11, 2023

Does it matter that I’m in a car instead of a bus if I’m still just crashing? There’s blood on my face, on my hands, I loved you and I worried we were going to crash the entire time. Found myself in PDF files and walks without shoes on, 10 over the limit at 2am wondering how, and why now, and does it have to end. You tell me I’ll get through it, and everything about you makes me want to cry. 

We walk home together in the dark, and if we’d had a before it would look like that. (But there is no before, for all the time we grew up together I still was facing the back of your head. This is the first time in our lives we’ve been side by side.) Our before is the precursor to violence. A threat that never was (and you still say that you’re afraid of me). 

You drive me home in the dark, and I ask if I really need to go home, and you don’t care so we go anywhere else. Talk about anything and everything and I turn my phone off and forget that I need to exist outside of the car. I can breathe, on the freeway at quarter past midnight. 

It’s still dark and I’m calling lights up on you on stage, and maybe that’s where it started. I walk into that theatre and they know my name, but he still looks at me like he doesn’t know what my next move will be, and sometimes you look at me like that too. Like you’re still seeing the kid I was, like that’s how you’ll remember me. Jokes about quitting turned into not quite jokes, and I remember that I didn’t know how to make you stay. In the end I had nothing to do with it. 

You’re in front of me, and I’m holding hands with your girlfriend and she’s important to me too. She sat with me and walked with me and she didn’t change like I did from when I knew her. I have a before with her that I don’t have with you. We take our shoes off and I tell her I don’t quite feel real and she tells me it won’t last forever. She’s in the car with us and we’re at the end of a pier together, all holding hands. We’re sitting on the beach, all leaning on eachother. We’re in her house, knocked over like dominoes. 

It’s easier to pick yourself back up when someone else can see the picture you make. It’s easier to put myself in your hands, in your car, and focus on breathing, focus on squeezing her hand, 1-2, 1-2-3, 1-2. Three of us in a car, on a dock, in a park, on a freeway. It’s the second time I’ve felt like a teenager in my whole life. I feel like I am 17 finally, after years of being in my 20s. Time is crawling by and if it moved faster I fear I’d break beyond repair. 

I go home to my half empty house of closed doors and expectations, and it’s late and they don’t ask where I was (they know I’ll lie anyways) and I tell my mother that I’m anxious, but she’s only been good at taking care of me when I’m taking care of myself. I sit with her and nothing changes. I live with her and nothing changes. She asks when I'll be back, and I look at her and I say “mom.” and she says “okay” and I know I am not making it easier for her. In my dreams, her best friend tells me that they deserve it for what they put me through. 

My shadow and yours on the pavement down the road I walked four times each day. The streetlights bend towards me, and I need to make sure that I’m still here. It hurts, in a muted sort of numb-feel-nothing way. It’s only the rest of my life ahead of me. We stop at my driveway, red light ominous behind us and you tell me it’ll be okay, and ask me not to text you once I’m inside. Everyday I might never see you again, that’s what this means. We’re all freed from this town, and I’m certainly not sticking around. I wish you were. I wish I hadn’t started this now. I wish I had time to explain what I mean. 

If I could write us an ending I would still be sitting in your car. I’d be sitting in your car at a stoplight, and I’d look over at you and tell you I love you, I can’t stand you, I’ll miss you, I love you. In my version we still don’t get a happy ending. The car hits us headon and only one of us survives. 

When you’ve been waiting for one moment, for 13 years, and you expect it to happen in one day and it instead happens over the course of several months, what does that make you? A liar? The perfect vibrant painting of the woods you hung over your window to a parkinglot. You’ve ripped through it now, too eager to see the stars from the roof one last time. To look over your shoulder like a thief, in the red light of your window. Remember the sunrises? Remember the years spent here? It will stop meaning anything soon. 

Todays still just a mondaytuesdaywednesday. Tomorrows still just a thursdayfridaysaturday. Sunday doesn’t exist. Unless you text me about it. 

I’ve been feeling a lot like I’m 12 again. Brand new in a world that hurts. Hiding, packing for a half-baked plan. Waking up to empty houses and notifications from everyone except you. I drove past your house, and your car was there. I drove past the house that used to be mine, and I didn’t stop but I wanted to. I drove past the house I grew up in and flinched. 

I take in every moment like a polaroid camera. One second and then it’s gone. Everyday feels like years ago, time stretches behind me, and I can’t see the future at all. You remind me I’m real, and I punch you on the walk home to confirm it. Otherwise the shadows look like me by myself, in the dead of May. 

I can’t see the ending. It’s a car crash, and the lights go down. It’s another car crash. They’re all car crashes. It’s you, it’s me, it’s both of us and neither of us all at once. Violence and a single moment, and then pain that stretches like the past ahead of me. I’m sitting at an intersection and I want to tell you that I love you, but I don’t know who I am. I wonder if you know anyways. (I call a standby. There’s another car crash). 

Just Peter sitting on the bathroom counter with Tony inbetween his legs. Peter with his head back, bearing his throat, as Tony glides the razor over so carefully over his skin. It's so intimate and intense, but it's their favourite part of their morning routine.

Okay, I know you've waited a while for this, and it is just part one of six but it's a start 😂

Summary: 5 times Klaus comforts Five plus 1 where Five comforts Klaus

Five pulled the bandage tighter using his left hand and his teeth; doing first aid on yourself was difficult but he had a lot of practice and well, practice makes perfect. He leaned back in the wooden chair and looked around the kitchen. He would kill for a cup of coffee right about now.

Sighing, he got ready to teleport when he heard someone noisily coming down the stairs. It was probably Luther, that man was never quiet (Five's theory was that he hadn't yet gotten used to the change in gravity but that was proven incorrect when Allison commented 'that some things never change' after Luther stomped down the stairs). He didn't want to be seen like this, injured in a dark deserted room so he did what anyone would have done - he jumped.

He was in blissful peace for about seven minutes. Seven minutes. Can a man not be left alone in this God forsaken house? 

"Fivey," Klaus knocked an unknown rhythm on his bedroom door, "are you hurt?"

"I'm fine, Klaus." He snapped. He didn't mean to snap. "I'm okay Klaus," he repeated softer, "I'm okay." 

There was no warning as the door opened to show Klaus, a pink feather boa wrapped around his neck and the comical sized first aid kit that Five definitely left in the kitchen in his hands. Huh, guess it wasn't Luther then. 

"Then why is the first aid kit out? Did you think it would just make a nice centrepiece?" Klaus smirked at him, but his eyes seemed to be scanning him for his mysterious injury. When he spotted it - a clean white bandage tied in a knot around the top of his arm near his shoulder - his eyebrows furrowed together.

"I've already stitched myself up, Klaus." 

Klaus seemingly wasn't happy with this fact, humming to himself as he sat on the bed, placing the first aid kit at his bare feet. "Y'know what always makes me feel better?"

Five watched as Klaus' toes wriggled against the blue rug on his floor. "A drink." 

Klaus giggled, that high annoying one that only came out when he was around Five, and brought his feet up so he was now sat in the lotus position (Five hated that Klaus taught him these ridiculous names, taking up space in his brain that he could be using for something more important.). "That's the old me, Fivey," he waved his goodbye hand around dramatically, " what makes my injuries feel better-"

"That's not what you asked." Five interrupted.

Klaus continued as if he never spoke, "is a 'get better kiss'."

Five glared at him. He may look like a child - like a fifteen year old boy - but he wasn't actually one and no way was Klaus giving him a stupid kiss going to make the stinging in his arm go away. "Despite popular belief, I am not actually a child!" He said through gritted teeth.

"I didn't say you were, I just said it makes me feel better so maybe it might work for you too."

"No." How dare he suggest such an idiotic idea. 

Klaus ignored his protest and when fingers started to trail up his arm, he was going to teleport but they were so gentle as they moved up and down his arm, leaving a path of goosebumps behind them. They tapped lightly at the back of his arm and that's the only warning Five got before Klaus bent his hand down and kissed at the knot of the bandage. It didn't hurt, just a gentle pressure but Five couldn't help his disappointed whine. "I couldn't feel it," he explained as Klaus looked up at him through thick black eyelashes.

"That's okay sweetheart," Five would forever deny the blush that spread through his cheeks like fire in a dry forest, "I'll just do it again."

Klaus long, thin fingers started to undo the bandage with practiced ease, tutting to himself as he noticed the teeth marks imprinted in one side of it. When it was finally undone, Five was proud at the sight of the neat stitches but then he noticed the sad look in Klaus' eyes. 

"What's wrong?" He sounded panicked to his own ears.

"It's just," Klaus sighed, his warm breath sending shivers down Five's spine, "you shouldn't have to do them yourself." 

"Klaus. Dad taught us to do our own stitches when we were ten."

"Yeah but - I just don't like seeing you," Klaus stopped, his fingers tracing light circles around the stitches. Before Five could prompt him to continue, Klaus was pressing a kiss to the stitches. 

His lips were surprisingly soft considering how chapped they looked and they felt almost electric against his skin. The moment seemed to last forever, Five looking down at his brothers closed eyelids, his long eyelashes casting curved shadows on his cheekbones. The feeling of even breath against his arm and the slightly ticklish but nice sensation of his facial hair. When Klaus pulled away, Five bit his lip to stop another whine from escaping.

Klaus started to re-tie the bandage - each brush of his fingers sending shockwaves down his arm - in a nice bow.

"Feel better?" 

"Yes," he admitted, grumbling. 

It was worth admitting to see the smile light up Klaus' face. 

Suddenly, Klaus was up and moving towards the door, flicking his feather boa dramatically over his shoulder. "I'll always kiss your injuries better, Five." He over exaggerated blowing a kiss over his shoulder with his 'hello' hand. Then he was gone.

Here are some HCs for my MC, Meilin, some are general and some are with specific LIs; if you wish to hear more about her, just ask!

Also, little reminder, I do have requests open! 👀 You can find the rules here!

⋆｡°✩ Meilin is competitive, almost to a fault. I can guarantee that growing up, certain games had to be banned at home because of the arguments that would erupt (especially when Caleb won and teased her about it). She refuses to acknowledge the time she picked up the Monopoly board and launched it across the room because Caleb absolutely destroyed her (they were kids ok she wouldn't dream of acting like that as an adult).

But she definitely is still competitive; you can catch the gleam in her eyes, sense the fire that lights up under her in the face of a challenge. In team building exercises, she was one of the trainee hunters that would be fought over as most teams she was on won.

Though she was explosive with her discontent over being a loser when she was a kid, in adulthood she's gotten better as masking her distaste and even has gone as far as learning how to swallow her pride. Though, at times, you can see the mild fury bleed through.

⋆｡°✩ She isn't an overly touchy feely person; her physical affection is reserved for certain people, otherwise she's a rather physically distant person. This also bleeds into eye contact - as with physical affection, eye contact is hard with people she doesn't know but easy with people she is close to.

If she's comfortable with you, you'll most likely get long bouts of intent, attentive eye contact and more openness to being touched.

Despite all of this, she is touch starved, lol which becomes clear when a LI grazes her with touches in public and she can't help but melt into them, begging for more.

⋆｡°✩ She's a brat. Outside the bedroom, in the bedroom, she is a brat. She can't help it. She likes to test boundaries, see how far she can push her luck. Especially when a punishment is delayed, lmao. It probably ties in with the competitive streak mentioned above; she likes the challenge, even though, by the end of it all, she'll happily submit.

In a more innocent touch, this brattiness normally shows up in teasing - even if she has no ulterior motives, she likes to tease her LIs sometimes. It's fun!

⋆｡°✩ She does collect injuries at work like achievements in a video game and people have labelled her as clumsy - truth be told, she's not, she's actually really agile. Like a cat. But when she's collecting these injuries, in usually in the face of protecting others.

This vexes Zayne more than anyone, as he feels his constant reminders to be careful fall on deaf ears; it's not that she doesn't take it on board, she does. She listens, carefully carving his worries into her mind and she carries them with her whenever she goes on a mission. But if faced with a situation where her bodily wellbeing needs to be compromised in order to save a person, especially from death, then she sees the sacrifice as a necessity.

She can heal from wounds.

Death is permanent slowly side glances Caleb and frowns

⋆｡°✩ She was the best marksman of her class. Short and sweet, this one.

Fandom: Love and Deepspace

Characters: Caleb, MC (Meilin)

Word Count: 2432 words

Tags: angst, mention of death, spoilers for Homecoming Wings and other main story (forgot which section and cba with checking which bit), idk what else to say about this really...

A/N: shit it's actually been a hot minute since I actually sat down and actually wrote something that's longer than just a tidbit - I've forgotten how I format my intro bits lmao.

Anyway, thoughts behind this - Meilin is upset with Caleb. It's not intended to be the ship, but it could also be taken as part of the narrative of their romance ig too. But ultimately, they're best friends... we know how complicated it is, gang

I couldn't abide by them immediately being all like "OH MY GOD UR NOT DEAD! HUGS!" and it being genuine on her part because her emotions would be... well, extremely complicated in that moment. So I wanted to cover a conversation they were destined to have, aka, fuck you Caleb for making me believe you were gone.

If there's typos... no there isn't TTuTT

There was a beast in their basement.

Peter Parker has learned about it completely by accident. He had heard the sound of growling and after searching the entire house, he finally decided it was time to be brave and go check the basement that no one ever used. His hopes hadn't been high - the basement was cold, damp and dark that even a desperate animal wouldn't have stayed in there. However, as he reached the final step and turned into the corridor that held the basement door, he was shocked to find security guards. Armed security guards.

The guards kept glancing each other, their knuckles becoming white as they gripped their guns tighter as a howl came from behind the door.

"What's going on?" He asked, making direct eye contact with the oldest looking security guard. When he didn't get an answer - and wasn't that typical of alphas, ignoring his question - he moved forward.

The guards moved as one to block his way.

The older one spoke, "Stay away from the basement, kid." Peter glared at him and the man quickly added on, "Your Uncle's orders."

Peter went to move towards the door again. These people shouldn't get to tell him what to do in his own house; he wasn't a kid.

"Shoo," the guard reiterated, the amused smile on his face looking odd, before turning around and silently dismissing him.

Peter sighed through his nose, before walking away with his head held as high as possible. One got used to not being taken seriously.

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

He couldn't stop thinking about it - the beast in the basement. It's growls haunted his dreams and he felt like he could hear it calling out to him.

Surely one little peak couldn't hurt? His curiosity was piqued, he wanted to know what monster needed 6 armed guards and their basement to hold it captive.

Expect, Peter knew there was harm hidden if he took one sneaky look. If his Uncle found out about it, it was going to open season on him. Ben Parker was a tough man who swore that he would treat all his nephews and nieces the same regardless of their orientation. The fact that he only had omegas to treat was besides the point. If Uncle Ben has found out he had been snooping around the basement, being his nephew and an omega wouldn't save him from his wrath.

It was times like this he was reminded of what Aunt May used to say everytime she caught him sneaking around - 'Curiosity killed the cat, you know?'. Her eyes would shine when she would say it to him, her arms wrapped around him in a loose hug. He was always supposed to reply with 'But satisfaction brought it back'. Whenever he said it, her head would go back with a laugh and her arms would squeeze him tighter.

Curiosity did kill the cat. But not if he didn't get caught.

------

He started by watching the guards. He noticed that they watched the door in groups of 3, so last time he must have caught them switching shifts. Furthermore, the guards seemed more relaxed when they ended their shift, probably from relief at being away from the monster. To not be one of the things keeping the beast trapped. This was good though, more relaxed meant more prone to distraction. 

He knew that the basement door locked from the outside which meant he could pick the lock (A trick he learned when he was younger). Plus, he knew from experience that you couldn't tell whether the door was locked or unlocked until you tried to open it. 

He decided to employ his eldest sibling, Quentin, to distract the guards. By 'employ' he might have meant bribed and by 'distract' he might have meant flirt. Peter wasn't ashamed to admit to using Quin's good looks to get into the basement. 

He waited in an alcove as Quin batted his lashes and watched with bated breath as they followed Quin like sailors following a siren. 

He walked to the door and stopped in front of it. He placed his ear against it… silence. His heart was beating wildly in his chest. He dropped to his knees, picked the lock and opened the door.

He half-expected the basement to be like he remembered as a child, freezing darkness, just with a newly added cage with a beast inside. 

But the basement wasn't dark. 

It was bright; illuminated by lights everywhere. The once grey walls had been repainted white and the wooden floors replaced with white tiles. The longer Peter looked at his surroundings, the more it looked… like a lab? That didn't make any sense though, his Uncle was a businessman not a scientist. 

Slowly, he moved further into the basement, frowning at the lab equipment dotted about the place. He didn't understand. There was no beast. No cage. Then what had been making all the nois-

Something growled. Peter had whipped his head around before he could even process how deep and threatening it sounded. 

He stared.

I couldn't agree more to be honest 😂 I feel like Klaus would be the chaotic good person who's like "I hoped you rinsed them with cold water first" because let's face it, he cares more about the clothes than the blood. Soooo, of course I couldn't help myself so enjoy.

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

Klaus had been in this exact situation before - sat in a laundromat in his bright pink underwear watching as his clothes spin hypnotically under too bright fluorescent lights. It's the first time that Five has been here though.

Klaus laughed a little maniacally as he watched his missing brother throw blood stained clothes into the washing machine next to his.

"Oh, Ben, I think I've had some bad weed."

Five looked at him, his blank expression at odds with the madness in his pretty blue eyes, and that's when Klaus noticed the blood splattered all over his face and down his neck.

"Oh Five," he reached up a shaking hand until it was just hovering over his blood soaked cheek, "I miss you so much little buddy." 

Five seemed to hesitate before he pressed his cheek into Klaus' hand and oh, he was warm and soft and he felt so real. His thumb automatically started to stroke Five like he was a stray cat that had wondered up to him, paying no attention to the dry bits of blood that came off him in flakes. 

"Uh, Klaus?" Ben said from atop of the washing machine.

"Not now Ben!" Klaus brought up his other hand so he was now cupping Five's face and by God, this face had haunted his dreams for years. He watched as Five's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, as his eyelashes fluttered like butterflies wings and as his tongue dashed out to lick at his bottom lip not seeming to notice the blood.

"Nice underwear."

"Danke. I've never had an hallucination that complements me before - well there was that time in this back alley in Queens but we don't talk about that -" 

"Klaus," Five interrupted him, "I'm real." He brought up his hand and covered Klaus' own. 

Klaus looked back at the blood soaked clothes now spinning around and then turned his attention back to Five. "What the fuck? I hoped you rinsed them with cold water first."

Five started laughing and Klaus dropped his hands from his face to wrap around Five in a tight hug.