moonlightmins
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“Thank you for taking me home,” Zen says, and it feels like an offering.
Jumin gives a single nod, “I'd like to think we are friends, and that's what friends do,”
“Sure,” Zen opens the door and pauses before he gets out, “but to be completely clear if anyone else was still around I would have gone with them instead,”
“Goodnight, Zen,”
All Jumin gets is a smile, cocky and teasing, before Zen closes the door and walks away.
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Or, Jumin and Zen find that maybe they dont really hate each other as much as they thought.
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Ghost makes an effort to ignore the way his cheeks heat up, "I like the company, Soap," he adds. Maybe it's a bit too genuine, too honest, but Ghost means it.
"You're nice when you're tired, Lieutenant," Soap wears a grin.
"I'm always nice to you," Ghost deadpans.
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Or, five times Soap promises to stay with Ghost, and one time Ghost promises back.
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I'll keep you safe (you keep me strong) by moonlightmins
Fandoms: Call of Duty (Video Games)
12 Dec 2022
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Soap is frozen, for a second, as he stares in the direction of the noise.
He knows that no one knows his location. Not his friends from the area, not even Price knows.
He takes a deep breath, his grip on the gun tightening. He opens the door, and can feel the way his stomach tightens at the sight.
"Ghost?" Soap whispers, his voice low.
Or, one-four-one is taking a mandatory, six-week break when Ghost shows up at Soaps door.
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I know you'll take me with you (we'll live in spaces between walls) by moonlightmins
Fandoms: Call of Duty (Video Games)
25 Nov 2022
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"I don't want to lose you, Johnny,"
"You won't lose me,"
Ghost knows this isn't a guarantee, but Soap speaks like he means it, like he is truly believing it, and Ghost's stomach feels tight.
"You can't say that," Ghost's voice is at a whisper.
"I mean it, Ghost,"
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Or, Soap makes Ghost feel loved.
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Buck finally sees him, his pupils blown wide, his lips red from sucking on Buck’s neck. “Fuck, I don’t know what I need. I feel insane right now. I just need to see, you know? I need proof of the blood pumping underneath your skin.”
“And you decided a hickey was the only way to do that?” Buck laughs, a tad hysterical. Eddie responds by pressing his finger against the hickey beginning to form on his neck. Buck hisses at the touch and, in the dim light, Eddie’s eyes seem to get even darker. Hungrier.
Buck is so fucked.
Or, Eddie becomes obsessed with checking Buck's pulse after New Mexico. It quickly escalates, when checking with his hands isn't enough anymore.
Bookmarked by moonlightmins
10 Sep 2026
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the efficacy of e-dating by beetlesandstars, kryptonian for sinnabonka
Fandoms: 9-1-1 (TV)
07 Sep 2026
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His phone is also there. In the kitchen. He’s propped it up against a stack of cookbooks, and it’s currently recording him.
Because he’s naked.
He’s naked, and he’s holding an egg, and his leg is in a cast. And he is willingly catching all of this on camera. For a guy on the Internet called Gus.
“Alright, Buckley. Get it together,” he says under his breath. He manually unclenches his ass, focusing instead on tensing his abs and pecs. If he’s doing this, he needs to look good.
Stealing a quick glance at his phone, Buck cracks the egg into the bowl. At the exact same time, Eddie steps through the back door.
OR: Buck’s brief attempt at e-dating does not go as planned. He gets a hell of a sex tape out of it, though.
Series
- Part 24 of ejo + 911
Bookmarked by moonlightmins
08 Sep 2026
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"Leave it," Eddie says, his voice pulled taut like a wire about to snap, tight enough to hum.
Buck looks at him, and Eddie’s whole body has gone so rigid he looks carved from stone, but Buck will ruminate on that later. But he can't exactly leave his phone under the seat for the next eight hundred miles, it's got his whole life on it, every stupid photo he's ever taken of Christopher and Eddie and Eddie and Christopher and, embarrassingly, just Eddie, so many just-Eddies, an entire hidden album of candids he'll never admit to because they constitute evidence of something he's been pretending he doesn't feel.
"I can't leave it, it's my phone. It's got— hold on, I think it slid under your seat."
“Buck, don’t.”
It’s as if Eddie doesn’t even know him, because Buck has never once heard the word don’t and responded with anything resembling obedience. So now he’s stretching across the center console with one hand braced on Eddie’s thigh for leverage, the other reaching blindly into the dark gap beneath the driver’s seat, and he’s aware on some level that his positioning is— that he’s essentially— that his head is—
He’s in Eddie’s lap.
Or,
What's a little road-head between friends?- Language:
- English
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Bookmarked by moonlightmins
08 Sep 2026
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Dragging a hand down his face, Eddie says, “It was thirty seconds.”
“Of betrayal,” Buck says darkly.
A laugh bursts out of Eddie. “You’re–”
“I’m what?” Buck advances on him before stopping abruptly in the middle of the room. Behind him, the curry they’d been working on sizzles, oil burning. Neither of them does anything about it. “I’m right?”
“Jumping to conclusions,” Eddie grits out. He hates being cornered like this. “Like you always do.”
“Oh, okay,” Buck says, too brightly. “Same way you keep jumping through hoops to avoid saying anything you actually want to fucking say?”
Buck’s not being fair. None of this is fair. It’s not right, it’s not–
“Fuck you,” Eddie snaps.
OR: Buck and Eddie argue after Buck hooks up with a married couple.
Series
- Part 7 of ejo + 911
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- English
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- 8,590
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- 1/1
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Bookmarked by moonlightmins
06 Sep 2026
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Then, Eddie straightens up and turns around, and Buck revises his assessment, because the front is cropped too. Evenly, which means a person did this on purpose.
The express purpose being to ruin Buck’s day and possibly his life.
The shirt stops right under his ribs. His stomach is just — out, the whole deliciously muscular span of it.
“Hey,” Eddie says, a crooked, boyish grin splitting across his face, as if he isn’t standing in his own driveway basically naked. “Wasn’t expecting you.”
“I-I, uh, texted. You weren’t answering.”
“Phone’s inside.” Eddie tips his head at the engine. “She’s leaking somewhere. Been out here since this morning trying to find it.” He swipes the back of his wrist across his forehead, and the gesture pulls the hem up another half inch.
Which is how he ends up looking at the sweatpants again. And the sweatpants, it turns out, are keeping no secrets. There is nothing on under there.
So now he’s standing on Eddie’s front lawn, stone-cold sober, at four in the afternoon, looking at the unmistakable outline of his best friend going commando.
Neat.
Or: Eddie wears a crop top. Buck sucks his dick about it.
Bookmarked by moonlightmins
04 Sep 2026