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twstgarden · 5 months

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❀ ❝ 𝘁𝗿𝘂𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲'𝘀 𝗸𝗶𝘀𝘀? ❞

━ diasomnia (malleus draconia, lilia vanrouge, silver, sebek zigvolt) x reader (separated) ━ true love's kiss? now, where will you or the diasomnia boys get that? (f/n means first name)

requested by: anonymous <3 request type: oneshot requester's message: Hi 🩵 I saw your requests are open 😍 I was hoping if I can request a true love kiss scenario with the four diasomnia dorm members? If they get kisses awake or the diasomnia men do is your choice florist's note: hello, dearie. i went for both, hope you enjoyed. thank you for the request.

this work does not contain spoilers for chapter 7, diasomnia’s arc.

do not steal or translate without my permission.

━ malleus draconia ━

being struck by a curse was already frightening enough on its own but knowing that the cure is something deemed as impossible – which is a true love’s kiss – you knew you were doomed for life. from what you knew, the curse given to you was you’d fall into a sleep-like death the moment you reach a certain age in adulthood. ever since then, you had no hope that you’ll ever live past that age.

your beloved remained unaware of this curse, however. it’s not like you didn’t want him to know, it’s just that he never asked, but then again, who would casually ask someone if they have been cursed?

you can imagine the fear and worry showing in his eyes the moment you lost your consciousness. the two knights immediately got to your aid while he rushed to you and assessed your physical being, to see if you were alright. you seem to be asleep and yet your heart was barely beating.

it took a lot to keep his composure, but lilia knew all too well that malleus was close to losing his mind any moment now. the older fae assisted the two knights by carrying you to a bed, to ensure you rest properly before they call for a magic doctor to check on your health.

…

“i don’t see any health issues… however, there is a trace of a powerful spell in their being similar to that of a curse,” spoke the doctor as they looked up to see the faces of the four diasomnia members. malleus’ eyes widened at the revelation as he replied, “a curse? she never told me she had one…”

the doctor sighed and proceeded to share the diagnosis with them in a sad manner, “her curse seemed to have something similar to death, but seeing as she looks as if she is asleep, we can deduce what she was struck with…”

the doctor did not need to continue talking as he knew that the four immediately knew what the curse was and its cure. lilia thanked the doctor for his help as malleus knelt on the floor right beside your sleeping corpse, holding your hand and sensing how cold it was slowly becoming, and yet your face showed no signs of death.

“such curse has a cure that we deem impossible, malleus…” spoke lilia gently, trying to console the young prince after losing his loved one. malleus tried not to have a breakdown, holding your limping hand tighter as he caressed your cheek, “true love’s kiss… is there really such thing?”

“like i said, an impossible cure…” replied lilia, but he was also determined to know if such thing was true, “…but we can try.”

malleus looked at you for a moment, brushing his thumb over your cheek as silver and sebek watched. a moment passed and he decided to lean close, placing his lips on yours for a bittersweet kiss before pulling away with a sad smile. there was a glint of hope in his eyes, hoping that he was indeed your one true love and that you would wake up, but he also wondered to himself that what if it was not him? what if you did not love him the way he loves you?

all those doubt washed away the moment your eyes fluttered open a bit, and a huge smile was seen on malleus’ face whilst lilia, silver, and sebek let out a sigh of relief. your beloved immediately wrapped his arms around you the moment your eyes were wide open and gazing up at the ceiling, a gasp of surprise left your lips once he hugged you close.

“i’m… alive?” you spoke in a rather surprised tone as you knew you would not survive the curse, and yet here you are in the arms of the man you love the most. malleus placed another kiss on your forehead before giving you a disappointed expression, “why did you not disclose the details of your curse to me? if i had known, i would have done something sooner…” a sigh then escaped his lips, “but… i’m glad you’re awake now.” his embrace tightened as he buried his face into your hair, taking a whiff of your scent to comfort himself as the fear of losing you grew even stronger, “please don’t ever leave me like that.”

━ lilia vanrouge ━

you were done with your lessons for the day and you felt ecstatic to return to your dorm to see your dearly beloved once more. with your books in hand, you walked towards your dormitory’s mirror with a hop on your step, humming a soft tune as you passed by the mirror and walked down the entrance of diasomnia.

upon arrival, you saw malleus and silver on the lounge, drinking what seemed to be black coffee while sebek was by the stairs with a displeased expression, almost as if he was jealous of silver spending some quality time with their master by drinking the same beverage.

you chuckled at sebek’s expression and approached him by the stairs, “you okay?”

sebek huffed in response, “silver is drinking black coffee with the young master! if only i could drink the same beverage, but i cannot stand the taste and prefer it with milk!” you tried not to laugh as you merely smiled, “right, there’s nothing wrong with wanting milk in your coffee, seb.”

you then patted his shoulder and went upstairs, heading to lilia’s room to check if he was there, and indeed he was. you were greeted by a messy sight with some trinkets on the floor and unorganized items on his desk – you knew he had terrible cleaning skills, but you were not expecting this.

and there he was, asleep on his comfy bed as the star that settled atop his bed glowed a little. you sighed and closed the door, approaching your sleeping beloved and taking a seat on the bed, watching his chest rise and fall with every breath as his eyes remained closed, his eyelashes were long and luscious, and his lips were parted.

you caressed his cheek and gently fixed his bangs before placing a soft kiss on his forehead. as you were about to stand up, you felt a hand grasp your own and you turned your head to see your beloved awake with a smile, pulling you down and placing a kiss on your lips.

“looks like i was woken up by true love’s kiss~”

you rolled your eyes at his antics and chuckled before kissing his forehead, “then it looks like i’m your true love, old man.”

━ silver ━

you were exhausted.

your energy was spent after your physical education lessons. you were instructed by coach vargas to run a hundred laps before proceeding with flying lessons, which exhausted the life out of you. with no energy left to spend, you entered the lounge of your dorm and dropped your bag on the floor before plopping yourself onto the couch, not caring about anything else other than sleep.

your eyes went shut as sleep overtook your tired figure. hours have passed, but you had not known how long you were asleep. you were awoken by the feeling of something soft and sweet on your lips, but it unfortunately lasted for a short while, which caused you to flutter your eyes open.

“mm…?”

your eyes fluttered open and the first thing you see is your boyfriend’s slightly surprised expression upon seeing you awake, and that’s when you realised, he kissed you. you smiled groggily at him and ruffled his hair before sitting up, “you woke me up with your true love’s kiss~ hehe...”

silver smiled at your remark and kissed your forehead, “you should rest in your room. i already brought your bag upstairs and fixed the bed for you.”

━ sebek zigvolt ━

sebek had unfortunately fallen ill and had been stubborn the whole time. he refused to take his medicine, saying he did not need it. he refused to rest as he did not want to acknowledge that he had a cold, and went as far as to say that his immune system was not so weak that he’d get sick so easily.

silver sighed at his stubbornness and looked at you for a moment. you gave him a quick glance before approaching sebek and pulling on his arm, “seb, you need to rest.”

“rest? absolutely not, i’m fine! don’t let what the doctor said discourage you! i have no cold,” argued the half-fae as he continued on carrying eight chairs to the mirror chamber all at once. silver opted to help as he carried some chairs too, but sebek insisted he’d do it by himself.

‘how stubborn…’ you thought to yourself as you crossed your arms and waited for him to finish his task. you knew there was no way he would stop now.

once he was done with his task, you dragged him back to the dormitory and made him sit on the couch with a stern expression, “sit.”

“but–!”

“no buts. sit down.” you commanded as you grabbed his medicine, causing him to grumble as he stayed put on the couch, allowing you to nurse him. as you gave him his medicine, he took it without another word before thanking you softly.

after taking his prescribed medication, you sighed and sat down next to him, ruffling his hair with a small smile as you spoke gently this time, “don’t be so stubborn next time… take care of yourself. you’re sick.”

“i can handle a cold…”

“sebek.”

you were always surprised by how much your actions and words affected him. normally, he would never dare to listen and obey a human’s commands, but with you, he does.

“fine… besides, i might be a nuisance to the master if i were to be sick while i stood guard by his side!”

ah, there he is.

you chuckled at his worry over his duties towards malleus. you then smiled and gave him a kiss on his forehead, “here. a true love’s kiss to make you feel better~”

his cheeks immediately went red as he exclaimed, “f/n!!!”

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allium-girl · 6 months

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This roasted leek & blood orange salad is a winter dream. Buttery roasted leeks, juicy blood oranges, creamy burrata cheese, crisp radishes, roasted hazelnuts, and fresh herbs. It’s bright and refreshing, with lots of richness from the burrata.

#my goodness #The Original Dish #recipes #winter recipes #autumnal recipes #salads #leeks #oranges #burrata #radishes #hazelnuts

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king-weasel · 10 months

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So I've been binging the Star Trek TOS movies and-

I-

Oh my stars

OFJJDJSJJAJJA OMG THEY'RE SO CUTE???? I'D NEVER EVEN THOUGHT ABOUT SCOTTY AND UHURA BUT MY GOLLY?? THEY'RE SO DARN CUTE!!!!

no of course I'm not already planning fanfiction

#star trek tos #star trek #Scotty #nyota uhura #Uhura #Scotty x Uhura #Uhura x Scotty #these two #my goodness #she cups his hands and he's hyper aware of how soft hers are in comparison to his calloused hands #also Scotty smiles so cutely so him just flushing while she flirts and giving that tight little amile of his UHHRGHHDHSH AAAAAA #Why are they so cute #st tos

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theeroticlover · 2 months

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Kiss me 💋😘

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f1version · 3 months

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WHAT ABOUT HELLO HI GOOD MORNING?!?!?

#‎ ﹒✶ ˖ ࣪ steph talks !#caught me so off guard #shook me to my core #my goodness #yuki fic next week xx #yuki tsunoda #yk22 #f1

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fanaticsnail · 20 days

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Snail I need you to know I got struck with the most heinous inspiration for a Buggy smut that I am cooking up rn but bc it will be a while let me set the scene

Picture this; Buggy so enamored with someone that he hasn't had sex with anyone else, and every time he masturbates he's imagining them.

So by the time they have sex he quickly realizes he's not going to last. He keeps trying to subtly stop and readjust without letting them know but they catch on and ask what's wrong. He confessed and they assure him that they want him - in whatever way he'll be, but he's not fully convinced.

They joke that if they are that desperate they can always just use him.

And both of them notice how much he likes the sound of that.

So they pick up again, only this time he's not holding back - he wants to cum early so he can watch them use him for their own pleasure like a sex toy. He's begging them to describe how they'd use him, and they do.

They mention his devil fruit powers and how they could always use him as a dildo, or detach his head and ride his face, or both at the same time. Just hearing them describe it makes him cum but he doesn't even let himself finish cumming fully before he's trying to talk through his moans, begging them to use him. He doesn't care if it hurts, he wants it to hurt, he wants to bring them pleasure at his own expense.

They detach his dick - still inside them - and ride his face. He's mostly just sucking their clit, he doesn't care that he's tasting himself because the more he slurps away his own cum the more he can taste them. Until they start humping his face more and he opens his mouth around the base of his dick to stabilize it for them. The image giving him fantasies of them using him another way by fucking his face with his own dick. The more he feels their frothy slit around the base of his cock on his lips the hungrier he gets to feel it himself, so he detaches his tongue and sends it up there. Shouting around himself at the overstimulating sensation of his own tongue wriggling past his shaft through the hot, tight warmth. Finally, he finds their G-spot and abuses it as they grin their clit into his nose. Not caring that the more they tighten around him the more it hurts.

When he feels them cum he does too. When all of a sudden they start squirting and he immediately opens his mouth to latch around their pussy and catch it, feeling betrayed when he realizes his tongue is still inside so he doesn't get to taste it in his mouth.

Once they stop shaking from the aftershocks his dismembered body pries their legs further apart and rips out his dick, his tongue flying to join back with his mouth before it presses tightly shut around his prize. Uncaring as his own warm spend leaks onto his face he moans as he finally gets to taste it.

"More."

The two successive orgasms plus the sudden rush of cold air on his wet dick makes him burn with overstimulation, but he doesn't care.

"Please, baby, use me more." his head tries to chase you as you collapse beside his head, legs unable to hold yourself up anymore. "Please? Take my dick with you, or take my tongue, you always say I talk too much, please-"

His makeup is so smeared.

"please, keep using me, don't leave me, don't let me go, don't care if it hurts. Want it to hurt. Wanna feel you when I walk-"

You've created a monster

Snail.

SNAIL.

You can't just go around and say these things and expect me to go ahead and pretend that everything is fine. My goodness. SNAIL. I am absolutely amazed. Gobsmacked. This is bloody spicy. Bloody hell. Oh my gosh.

The way you've set the scene right off the bat is impeccable, truly. I was immediately left too stunned to speak. I was assembling dinner and was like: "Oh? I got an ask? Oh it's from that beautiful Snail! That sweet, beautiful, lovely Snail who always has such kind thoughts and words to share. Oh let me see what they've got to- OH, WHAT THE FUCK, OH MY GOSH, BLOODY HELL!!!"

Had to take a minute to compose myself before I got back to cooking my cassoulet 💀. I had to perch atop my kitchen counter for a bit. Heights brings me an aura of calm 👌.

When you drop the full fic, you have to tag me, love. Oh my gosh.

Everyone. Everyone. Look at what the amazing @sexc-snail is whittling. I'm still stunned.

@feral-artistry @sordidmusings @writingmysanity @since-im-already-here @lostfirefly @vespidphoenix @carrotsunshine look at this!!!

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missathlete31 · 4 months

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This man 🫣🥵🤬🔥

#glen powell #how is he real #my goodness #those abs #that smile #I cropped Sydney out but that’s a personal decision #anyone but you

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isasan347 · 4 months

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If this post

Gets 100 notes

I’m gonna show you guys the wips I have in my sketchbook

Edit: guys you’ve already reached 100 wth

BUT

One can only add 10 each

Why?

Cuz I wanna show you. But I also don’t wanna show cuz it’s not finished

But I also wanna show you

So I’m gonna show you

If y’all can make it to one 100

Only takes 10 people

Also I probably have more than actual finished drawings

Is that just me or

#artist things #my goodness

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python333 · 2 months

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since i just woke up from one and came here to seek comfort and get it out of my head,i had the idea of "why not ask them if they'd like to write such a thing?" So here i am.

The main thing is reader having a really grotesque, explicit and horrific nightmare (that's how most of mine are) could be getting tortured,put in a meat grinder,you get it,work your magic and write as you wish haha.And after they wake up with a heavy and tight chest, horrified naturally,it being out of their control,could you have the 141 members comfort us? Perhaps one way of getting most of their reactions would be setting up a scenario where they had to camp and sleep in the same place, something of the sorts,so yeah.

Honestly still not over the nightmare yet that shit was horrific haha,but yeah,hope this'll be a nice writing for you,if you wish to do so.Take great care of yourself dear,and take as many breaks as you need<3

how the sausage gets made — python333

— — — —

synopsis you have a very graphic nightmare, the 141 comforts you!!!

relationships platonic! 141 & gn! reader.

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

word count 3.2k

warnings nightmare about getting put through a meat grinder (not too graphic, but the imagery is still there), usage of [c/n] (code name/call sign), 2nd person pov (you/yours/youself)

note hi!! this is actually right up my alley, i really enjoyed writing this!! :D hopefully this somewhat comforts you/helps you get over the nightmare, and hopefully this was horrific enough for you!! ALSO i have a discord server now!! enjoy :3

You’re in some sort of freezer, it seems.

Your vision is a bit blurred at the edges, and your head feels awfully heavy, making it hard to keep upright on your neck. Your shoulders feel tight and tense, as though the muscles in them were physically bundled and tied into tight knots. Though, they aren’t tense in the way they typically are. Somewhere in the back of your mind—as your gaze wanders around the blue-tinted room you lay in—you can recall times after sparring sessions with a few of your teammates when your shoulders felt tight, and it was nothing like this. Those times, you could feel the knots as though they grew roots from your shoulders to your wrists. Unlike now, your shoulders feel lighter than those times.

Those times. You aren’t sure what “those times” refers to. All you can see and think about is the light blue tiling of the ceiling above you. It’s strange; you’ve only seen tiling like that on dingy bathroom floors in the public gym you used to go to. It’s never been on the ceiling like that. Huh.

You can’t really feel your hands, which is even stranger. You know where they are—they’re right at your sides, laying on the stingingly cold concrete floor of whatever room you’re in—and can hear the echoing taps they give whenever you lift and hit them lightly against the floor, but yet they feel numb. You move one of them, not nearly as off-put by the numbness as you should be, and lift it up and over your face. It looks normal. No, yeah, that’s my hand alright. Don’t know what I expected.

You put the hand back on the ground and using both hands you push yourself up from the floor, letting out a small grunt as you do. It takes an uncanny amount of force to push yourself upwards, but you manage to do so anyway, and you finally have a look at the room around you. You look ahead of you. Blue tarp. It’s shiny and almost looks woven, and if you squint your eyes enough, it looks grainy. You look to your left. More blue tarp. It’s of the same quality, the same quantity, and is in all aspects the exact same as the other blue tarp. You make a quick prediction before looking to your right, and, lo and behold, another blue tarp. How shocking.

It looks the same as the other two. Frowning, you look behind you, and surprisingly you are not met with yet another blue tarp. This time, there’s a large, shiny, stainless steel machine behind you. It’s a good ten feet away, about the same distance away as the tarps, and for some reason it beckons to you. Like Princess Aurora to her spinning wheel, you find the strength to push yourself up to your feet completely, and immediately you begin walking towards the metal machine without much resistance.

It doesn’t really hit you that you have no idea what this machine is or what it does. You don’t think you’ve seen anything like it. As you get closer, you can see a few items strung from the ceiling past the machine; weird plastic-clear looking tubes that are linked together in the same way clowns at parties twist balloons, and there’s iron-cast skillets hung on the ceiling from invisible hooks. Huh. Weird. Despite the oddities of the items strung from the ceiling, you keep walking towards the machine.

When you get even closer, the machine becomes less blurred and comes more into focus. It looks completely untouched. There’s a large funnel at the top, one that requires a ladder to get to—conveniently, there’s a ladder set up on and welded to the machine itself—and beneath that is a horizontal tube that tapers off into a smaller, funnel-like shape at the end with a much smaller opening. You tilt your head curiously at the machine. It’s so shiny. Though, the longer you stare at it, the grainier it gets.

Suddenly, cutting through your thoughts, you feel a harsh push at your back that almost has you knocking into the machine. Before you can even turn around to see who felt that they had the audacity to push you so harshly, that same entity that pushed you quickly lifted you into the air. Whatever they’re using to hold you up feels like absolutely nothing—as if they were just gathering enough air molecules to swoop you up.

“H—” You try to protest, but your throat doesn’t work. Before you can say anything, it just gives out, and leaves you wheezing for a moment before trying again only to discover that, to your horror, you cannot talk.

Your throat seems to close up every time you try to say anything. All that comes out are breathy wheezes and coughs that leave a strangely bad pain in your chest. As you try to stop your coughing, whatever is picking you up quickly dumps you into the large funnel on top of the machine. It’s cold and bites at your skin unforgivingly, making you hiss in discomfort. You don’t even clock how the cold is irritating your skin, despite you being fully clothed and none of your bare skin being exposed to the metal of the machine.

You try to move your hands to the sides of the funnel to push yourself up, but you move at a painfully slow speed, and can’t do anything but stand still. Like a mannequin, you’re forced into a standing position and can’t do anything but stand in the funnel. You look down, and you’re standing on what seems to be some sort of cylinder. The bottom of the funnel ends around your mid-calf.

Oddly, this reminds you of those nightmares you used to have when you were younger, where you were running from something or someone but moved too slow to get away.

Suddenly, the cylinder begins to move.

It spirals in place, making you quickly lose your balance and soon you’ve fallen in a lying position on the cylinder as it turns. It starts at a slow pace but starts to speed up, in time with your panic. You try to scramble to your feet but your limbs don’t allow it, keeping you stuck in place, the cylinder starting to turn even faster.

You’re uncomfortably folded and pushed through the small ending of the funnel as the cylinder keeps moving, and once you’re through, you start to hear a strange whirring.

It’s loud and sounds like some sort of shitty metal fan. It clangs against the sides of whatever tube you’re in and occasionally makes a horrible screeching noise that, if you could, you would cover your ears to escape. You turn your head to the side ever-so-slightly and see the “metal fan” itself—four sharp blades that spin clockwise, with a weird hole-filled circle behind them. You furrow—or, well, try to at least—your eyebrows at the sight.

The fuck is that? You don’t realize you’re getting closer to it.

The cylinder is now turning at an exceptionally fast pace, and only when you’re a few feet from the blades do you realize just how close you are to them.

“Wait—” You finally find your voice, though it sounds far away and is muddy in your ears, “Stop, stop—”

You’re not sure what else to say. You can’t tell if you’re begging, commanding, demanding, or anything of the sort. All you know is that the cylinder is going faster and faster, at an almost punishing pace that leaves you wondering what you could’ve done to deserve whatever the hell is happening to you. The blades emit an ungodly screech each time they get caught on a bump on the insides of the tube, and as you get even closer you can spot bright orange rust on the blades.

The texture is enough to make you gag. You’re getting closer, and closer, and soon you’re barely a foot away from it. The screeching and the whirring is so loud. You can’t hear anything else—or, wouldn’t be able to hear anything else, if there was anything else to be heard.

You can barely continue your train of thought before you feel a sharp, cold rush through your ankle.

You hadn’t been paying enough attention. You didn’t realize how close your feet had gotten to the blades.

The sound it had made when it was cut off was sickening. A loud pop, the same kind of pop that sounds when you break open the tab of a can. You open your mouth to scream but nothing comes out, and suddenly the rest of your leg is getting shredded by those same blades, and dear God, it’s so cold. It feels like dry ice cutting right through your calves, making its way up to your knees, soon to your thighs, much faster than you can process.

Your thoughts come in small fleets that go as soon as they come and you’re never able to continue or dwell on a single one, always getting interrupted by the white-cold pain that literally cuts through your upper thighs. You can’t feel anything from the waist down. You can’t feel your legs, your feet, and you’re losing feeling in your hips—

Your hands desperately grasp at the cylinder, and you’re not sure what you’re doing but you’re trying to do something, anything, as long as it delays the inevitable shredding of your torso and head. But it doesn’t work. Of course it doesn’t. Whatever you had intended to do doesn’t work, and soon there’s a sharp cold pain that cuts into your ribcage, and suddenly you can’t even feel your stomach.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you can recognize the small sobs that escape you.

Your chest is the next to go, and soon it’s your shoulders, and even though they’re not gone yet your hands have already gone numb, and you’re bracing yourself for the sharp-cold pain to reach your neck when suddenly—

You wake up, body immediately getting into an upright sitting position and your chest heaving as sweat drips down your forehead. The sweat is cold and your breathing is loud in your ears, your ears which are filled with ringing, the sound of just anything enough to make your breath hitch and a sob crawl into your throat. With open-mouthed pants, you blink rapidly at the space in front of you, before quickly raising your hands to your face and letting out a loud, shaky sigh when you can actually feel the air moving through your fingers.

They aren’t numb. You plant them on the ground and just feel around, the rough fabric of your tent gliding under your hands. You shake your head vigorously, letting out another relieved sigh when you find that it’s still attached to your neck and hasn’t been sliced through. You move your legs and they’re still attached to your body. Everything is still on you. You’re in the same clothes you went to sleep in. You have all of your body parts. You are in one piece. Nothing is missing. You’re fine.

Despite repeating to yourself that everything’s okay—you’re physically together, you’re in a tent in the middle of the fucking woods and the worst thing that could happen to you is getting jumped by a bear in your sleep—nothing feels okay. There’s still the phantom feeling of getting put through a meat grinder that keeps a perpetual tremble in your bones, that keeps you unknowing of how to act like you’re in one piece. Not act. You are in one piece. But you aren’t. You swear, even though it was just some stupid dream, that it felt real enough to have actually happened.

“[c/n]?” Soap’s tired voice snaps you out of your thoughts. Right. We’re sharing a tent. You quickly whip your head to look at him, chest still rising up and down rapidly as your unstable breathing continues. You don’t say anything, simply staring at him with wide eyes.

“Are ye alright?” He frowns, quickly growing more awake the more concerned he gets, “Whit’s wrong?”

Maybe you’re in some form of shock, but you find yourself staying silent out of the fear of something happening. You’re not sure what that ‘something’ is, but it’s there, and it’s holding you back from even attempting to speak. Your breath hitches and your throat stings.

“Hey, uh,” Soap pushes himself up with a grunt and walks over a short few steps to you, kneeling down once he’s beside you, “Jist breathe, everything’s gonnae be alright.”

You know he’s not exactly the best at comforting people. He’s always been better with more technical things, and would much rather help you with math homework or something over trying to comfort you after something traumatic. It’s not that he doesn’t want to—of course he does, and he wishes he was much better than he is now at it—but he can never manage to find the right words.

He puts a tentative hand on your shoulder and you stare at it as it reaches you, flinching back immediately when you can actually feel his hand over your shirt. He pulls his hand back instantly, expression growing even more concerned.

“Do ye wannae tell me whit happened?” Soap whisper-asks. When you quickly shake your head ‘no’, Soap thinks for a moment before offering, “Do ye want me tae get onyone else?”

You think about his words for a moment before nodding. He sighs.

“Who?”

Your gaze flickers from the exit of the tent before going back to Soap.

“… Cap’n Price,” You quietly decide. Soap nods and reluctantly gets up, making his way out of the tent.

A few minutes later, you hear Soap walk back into the tent as well as another set of feet that trail right behind him. You look up and over at the entrance of the tent and see your Captain. His eyes are immediately on you, and as soon as he sees the mystified look in your eyes, he’s quick to make his way to you and kneel down beside you.

He doesn’t know what to say for a moment, you can tell. He instinctively brings a hand up to put on your shoulder like he typically would in situations like these, but something causes him to bring his hand back down and away from you. Maybe Soap told him how you reacted earlier? You brush off the thought for now, more focused on whatever Price is trying to do.

The reason you wanted him here instead of the others was mainly because you felt the least embarrassed around him. Which was weird, considering that he’s of the highest rank compared to you and the others, but still—you can’t imagine him judging you, not even for the most outrageous things. Maybe he’d have a small fit over you saying “soccer” instead of “football”, but otherwise, you can’t think of a world where he judges you for something like having a nightmare.

And sure, the others have them too and probably wouldn’t judge you either, but still. Price will probably always be your first option for situations like these.

“Soap hadn’t told me what happened, yet,” Price says softly, “D’you mind filling me in?”

If this were anyone else, you’d be fighting the urge to jump off a cliff, but because it’s not, you simply answer, “Nightmare.”

Your voice is a little clearer now, much to your relief, but it still carries that rasp from earlier. It doesn’t pain you to talk, but it does shock you that you even can, considering that you could barely form a whisper in your nightmare. And yes, that’s a silly thought, knowing that all of that was a nightmare, but you couldn’t care less about that right now.

“A nightmare, alright,” Price hums, before suggesting, “My tent’s bigger than yours, y’know. You wanna bring your sleeping bag over there, so we’re all together? Power in numbers, yeah?”

You nod mindlessly, agreeing with anything Price says. He smiles at you and hesitantly puts a hand on your shoulder, doing it slowly enough that you have plenty of time to let him know if it’s not okay, but you allow it. Price shoots a look at Soap and the latter nods, confirming whatever Price’s silent look asked him.

“Alright,” Price gives your shoulder one last squeeze before standing up, waiting for you to stand up as well. Once you do, he starts to walk out of the tent, expecting you to walk after him. Surprisingly, Soap gets up as well, sleeping bag and pillow in hand. Huh. Maybe that’s what he was confirming. You quickly pick up your sleeping bag and pillow, movements a little more stilted than usual as you didn’t expect to actually be able to move as quickly as you can now, and follow Price out of your tent.

You shiver as you walk out into the cold outside of the woods, and are quick to walk to the much bigger tent across from yours.

When you enter the tent, Gaz remains asleep while Ghost almost immediately wakes up. It’s uncanny, the speed at which his eyes open and dart to your figure—as if he was never asleep in the first place. You push those thoughts aside and wait for Price to walk in.

“Wh’t’s goin’ on?” Ghost asks sleepily, his British accent making his slurred words nearly impossible to decipher.

“They’re stayin’ in here for the rest of the night,” Price answers for you, nodding over to you as he refers to you.

Ghost looks over at you and you can sense his raised eyebrow despite not being able to see it. You look to Price to explain your situation for you again, and once he sees you look at him, he explains, “Nightmare.”

Ghost blinks before nodding understandably. Almost immediately, he conks out and goes right back to sleeping like the dead, making Price snort. Price turns to you, and gestures towards the empty spot next to Gaz, the spot conveniently empty and just perfectly sized for your sleeping bag. You walk over there as quietly as you can, shuffling around Ghost’s and Price’s sleeping bags, and gently lay your sleeping bag down next to Gaz’s.

You set down your pillow inside of the sleeping bag and kneel down as quietly as you can, a soft rustling sounding from your sleeping bag as you settle in. You turn on your side and let out a quiet sigh, eyelids already drooping with exhaustion. You’ve turned towards Gaz, and he’s turned towards you, and you look over his sleeping face for a moment before deciding to catch up on your own rest.

Just as you’re about to close your eyes, you watch his open.

“...” He stares at you for a moment, before he sleepily whispers, “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“… Y’good?” He asks, looking at your still-glassy eyes and very-clearly-worn-out expression.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” You answer, trying to offer a tiny bit of reassurance.

“Alright,” Gaz hums, accepting your answer easily, and closing his eyes once again.

A small smile graces your lips. You’re all used to going to sleep easily, of course, on missions like these—you kind of need to be, given that you’re all military. It took you a bit, but you eventually got used to it, and gained that skill just a few months after joining the task force.

Speaking of which, you find yourself drifting off to sleep not long after Gaz closes his eyes again, and soon enough, you’ve already fallen asleep—this time, without nightmares or dreams.

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