#Bunk Cafe

[mannbhaavnii]

13th October, 2023

I don’t think I will ever forget this day. I kind of ran away from school with my friend and we landed in a café. We deserved this after weeks of school torment. Haha

[katesimblr]

Berlin apartment block

The Berlin Apartment Block is a 50x40 detailed lot. There are 8 apartments in different sizes and with different features.

1st apartment: two-storey, one bedroom + space for a cat

2nd apartment: run-down apartment, with moving paraphernalia in it

3rd apartment: two-storey, one bedroom, roof terrace

4th apartment: two-storey, very modern

5th apartment: semi-detached house one, one bedroom, one guest room, space for two home offices, small dressing room and fitness room, small garden

6th apartment: semi-detached house two, one bedroom, one teenager room, one children's room with a bunk bed, small garden

7th apartment: three-storey, stylish, one bedroom, gallery, large office

8th apartment: two-storey, loft, small and artistic

In addition, there are many communal spaces that may become properly playable with other mods to come. There is a laundromat, a pottery studio, a bubble teas store, a cafe, a wine store, as well as a typical Berlin "Späti" (grocery store) and a newspaper kiosk.

Thanks to all creators who made this house possible with their CC, like @13pumpkin31, @animefemme69, @billsims-cc, @chicklet, @dk-sims, @k-hippie, @kkbsmm, @lady-moriel, @liness-simsinterior7, @meinkatz, @msteaqueen, @Pocci, @radioactivedotcom, @tatschu, @thetrashisoutcc, @zxta and many many more.

Download CC

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[thelazybard]

idk if you do modern AU, but it could be really cool like a modern au of the clones from Bad Batch + rex and cody in like university. what would they study, what hobbies, what would they wear! idk

or maybe like in the y/n s/o perspective how they would help them study through finals and midterms?

love ur writing 🫶🫶🫶

I love university AUs sm ughh

Modern!The Bad Batch +Rex +Cody x GN!Reader: The boys as university students

Rex:

Style: Athleisure for sure. Something presentable enough to attend class in but also hit up the gym in after. The same sneakers almost every day, and his gold chain.

Major: Philosophy

Study dates: In his dorm when Cody is out. You both fit into his twin bunk and quiz each other with flash cards.

Cody:

Style: Done up, slacks and a sweater every day for sure. I imagine him in brown loafers and gold jewelry.

Major: Engineering

Study dates: Out at a cafe with free wifi. He prefers outdoor seating so the two of you can have a bit more privacy while also enjoying nature, but he won't subject you to that in the winter. You doublecheck his math for him and quiz him on the different formulas he's got to memorize.

Hunter:

Style: Jeans, boots, and a graphic tee of some sort. A denim or leather jacket in the winter.

Major: Forestry/Environmental Science

Study date: Outdoors at campus, usually under a tree the two of you can lean back on. He brings snacks and a blanket each time, and the two of you study for your respective midterms in a comfortable silence until you fall asleep on his shoulder.

Echo:

Style: Similar to Rex's. Athleisure, but more boyish. Graphic tees of his favorite show and Nike sweatshorts.

Major: Biomedical engineering

Study dates: At your dorm because Fives always has a girl over. He tries to focus on studying but ends up getting distracted by the various doodads around your room, which results in you getting the great idea of holding him down and doing your skincare routine on him. No studying gets done.

Wrecker:

Style: He's the guy that wears shorts whether it's warm or not. A black pullover hoodie is a closet staple. (He let's girls borrow it so be ready to argue about that). Socks and sandals 100%.

Major: Sport's Medicine or Physics.

Study dates: In his dorm. He sits at his desk with you in his lap and you make him create/study quizlets. He takes breaks frequently to snuggle and kiss you.

Tech:

Style: Slacks, polo and blazer. Thinks you need to look your best to do your best. Him and Wrecker fuss over each other's styles constantly.

Major: Double majoring in Aerospace Engineering and Computer Science.

Study dates: In the STEM building in one of the many study spaces. He says what he's learned out loud to you to better adhere it in his noggin. He takes you out to ice cream after to make up for the lack of romance during the actual study part.

Crosshair:

Style: Dark academia on days he has a presentation. Rest of the time? Sweatpants and a black shirt. Something he can jump right back into bed in.

Major: I'm sorry but he's so a business major. Actually I'm not sorry.

"Study" dates: You go to his dorm and make out while a business textbook is open nearby. Studying!!

[percyjackson-post]

A few random Solangelo headcanons in honor of Pride Month!

Both of them are incredibly good cooks. Will grew up learning southern recipes from his mother, and even though he doesn’t cook often, his brisket is incredible. Nico was only taught some basics by Maria and Bianca, but he’s a natural at cooking, even though he refuses to admit it. 

Will has taken it upon himself to educate Nico on all modern media; at least, that’s what he used to say to describe their weekly unofficial dates. Now, months later, their Friday movie dates are an integral part of their weekly schedule.

Naomi absolutely adores Nico. Will was expecting her to have a slight apprehension about the fact that her son was dating the son of Hades, but she accepted him without even a second thought. Despite her busy schedule, she and Will exchange letters almost weekly, and she always leaves a note to check in on Nico.

Speaking of positive family bonds, Hazel and Will have become an incredible duo. Even though they’re on separate sides of the country, they always make time to chat while they’re visiting their respective camps. These hangouts are usually in the form of cafes, and once they get talking, it's almost impossible to drag them away from one another.

Both of them have taken up the tradition of learning small nick-knacks around camp for each other. Neither knows who started the gift exchange, but at least once a week Nico will find a small candy or particularly interesting rock or sea shell left on the windowsill of his cabin or in one of the many pockets of his coat. Will, on the other hand, is constantly finding small wildflowers or small hand-made crafts in his bunk or in the medic cabin.

[korizzybee]

Imagine: being Hobie Brown’s little sister who’s also a spider

Info: reader is a darkskin!black!fem, reader is age 12-13, Hobie is 17-18, SPIDERMAN ATSV SPOILERS‼️

For as long as you can remember it has just been you and Hobie against the world, I guess you had gotten your spider powers like a year after Hobie but you both joined the spider society at the same time

Hobie takes really good care of you seeing as how you’re his only family member left, he always makes sure you’re well fed and rested before taking care of himself

Since you’re still very young he lets you do a lot of the easy tasks when you’re doing your spider jobs like getting civilians to safety and stopping fallen debris from hitting people, of course you can help with villains but you just have to be on the sidelines so you don’t get hurt

You both def play hide n seek in the dark idc what anyone says YOU BOTH PLAY HIDE N SEEK IN THE DARK CUZ ITS SO FUN TO YOU TWO!!

I can not stress this enough when I say Hobie is always letting you be the first one to judge the song lyrics he writes

He’s the guitarist, Gwen’s the drummer, and you’re the singer

Your extra spider powers are sonic scream and x ray vision (Hobie thinks that’s hella cool)

He has a picture of you, him, Gwen at the park as his Lock Screen, for his Home Screen it’s a picture of Pavitr teaching you how to make tea

SPEAKING OF PAVITR!!!

OMG Pav loves you smmm you’re like his little sister figure

He loves giving you piggy back rides and he lets you do his hair in any style you want

Two definitely have a handshake

You take a lot after Hobie minus the way you dress, he says he’s not a role model but he’s def your role model

You and Hobie had separate canon events, the person who died for you was a cafe worker who would look after you when Hobie was busy with the band and he couldn’t take you

For weeks you wouldn’t talk to anyone even Hobie, but he still made sure you were taken care of

You and Hobie have your own playlist, it’s a mixture between rock, punk, heavy metal, pop, hiphop, RnB, and bedroom pop

Idc what anyone says, you n Hobie share a bunk bed (he said he gets top bunk bc he’s older smh 🤦🏾‍♀️) and y’all have a matching pajama set that y’all wear on movie nights

One time Pav came over and teased Hobie about having matching pjs with you (he never came over again /j)

No one knows this, not even you, but Hobie still wears the colorful bracelet you made for him when you were 6 (it’s under he sleeve though so you never see)

Definitely the type of brother to sleep in your bed with you or let you sleep in his bed with him if you have a nightmare

By civilians, you two are nicknamed the Spider Siblings (he hates it bc he hates labels and you don’t mind it sorta)

YOU BOTH ANNOY MIGUEL TOGETHER HE’S SO SICK OF YALL 😭😭‼️‼️

As you can see my requests are back open ESPECIALLY FOR SPIDERMAN ATSV so send those requests!!

[elithe31st]

Can we just get Noah as a boyfriend general head canons where Noah and Gn reader met on TD set? (Btw I love your work, your literally the only person who frequently writes for Noah and I love u for that ❤)

DISINFECT

noah tdi x gn reader

'' i've been watching you for quite a while now ''

ISLAND

you two were on the same team

had to share a bunk with you

when the cameras weren't rolling, you two spent some time together

not a lot

just talking about random stuff

you asked him what book he was reading once

turns out you loved it

so you bonded over that

teased him nonstop for the ear kissing thing

when he got eliminated you were sad, but oh well

got eliminated in place of katie

in playa de losers it was even better

i mean, not having to live in that crappy summer camp anymore? awesome

noah just made it a whole lot better

you were on team e-scope

ACTION

you were in the peanut gallery with him

didn't really do anything

when the aftermath show wasn't being aired, thats when your relationship started

noah told cody and then cody started hyping him up

the last episode was when he confessed

you said yes, of course

during when he was chris' assistant he didnt want you getting wrapped up in anything

definitely told you about all the crazy shit

WORLD TOUR

competed with him AGAIN

but you two were a couple nowww

no one knew except cody

hung around you most often

you both agreed to NOT trust alejandro

alejandro probably tried to woo you or something

noah got all defensive but in his cool calm collected way

alejandro found out after that

toooootally didnt use it against you

totally DID

when noah got eliminated you were pissed

had a very not nice conversation with alejandro after that

you got booted next

cheered noah on when he was doing that disco laser thing

now you two never competed on td again, got a cozy little apartment somewhere and go on cafe dates regularly ❤

[maveras-posts]

Slasher House Part:♾️

✨How it’s like living with the slashers✨:

I swear it’s like a bunch of teenagers!

The others have attempted any times to teach Micheal modern slang and technology (For fucks sake he has stuck a fork in an outlet and the DAMN TOASTER)

He has lots of candy stashed in random spots throughout town and the old Myers house

Micheal is very fond of ✨CanDy CoRN✨ sour gummies

Also Micheal and Jason are VERY MUCH on the spectrum!

Bubba is very childish when you get to know him but is very short tempered

NEVER comment on how he looks or stare for too long

Sam is just like a kid so we must preserve the innocence (Freddy taught him no no words😒)

Ghostface is also very friendly, and a joker

Highkey reminds me of deadpool in a twisted way

Art is another ball game… (gaslighting is his middle name)

Pennywise does his own thing most the time but is quite friendly and fun to be around.

Out of all of them you’d feel safest with Sam and Jason they are teddy bears

Sam is the least problematic one there along with Jason it’s like the two toddlers found eachother

Freddy likes to bully everybody except for Art and he tried with Sam —

Art fucking pulled a flamethrower out last time he tried to pick on Sam—

Ghostface and Freddy have karaoke nights (much to Michael’s dismay) Sam is raging in the background

My man Michael needs his 8 Hours

Pennywise and Art also bunk together in the basement…don’t go down there! (Art has the good kush it’s MINE—)

The playground and clown cafe are a vibe I just can’t get the damn ✨SONG✨ out my head🤬

Pennywise is a recluse we forget he lives here sometimes🤷‍♀️ (He Sleeps A LOT)

The 🍃 circle with Art is lit as fuck!

Ghost is very funny and his room is a vibe he can go on for hours about scary movies (Imagine purple and orange lights with tons of movie posters and his collectibles on shelves 😭)

Family game nights are banned now, everyone fought with eachother

Micheal is not allowed to operate any stoves or toasters… HE SHUT THE POWER OFF OF THE NEIGHBORHOOD😑

NO ALCOHOL for Jason (the FBI still can decipher what happened…)

Art may or may not have dared him to shots and he just took chilled water💀 (Jason is a virgin to alcohol)

Art sends Sam to do his dirty work💀 Sam took all of Freddy’s left shoes and threw glitter in all of Micheal’s drawers 😒 Art also gave Sam a lighter😭

Micheal is the only one with Law and Order he is like the father of all these damn children

The people voted and I answered MANY wanted the slasher house to continue, I’ve added a couple more into the house and I just realized I fucking missed the chance to make Fourth of July headcanons for them forgive me council😭 I hope everyone enjoys this dumpster fire and again requests and recommendations are open!

Love You Sick Things!

🖤Mavera🫶

@michaelmyers-isdaddy @slasherholic @slasherwife @slasherfxcker @getmeoutofhell @gloopunknown @slasherhaven @arttheclown-coveredinblood @rosehilol @spookystree @michaelmyersleftfoot

[kimbapisnotsushi]

i was feeling shiratorizawa + semiten and kawashira hcs so y'all know the drill LET'S GO

goshiki has 100% forgotten that he sleeps in a bottom bunk bed and consequently has shot up awake at the sound of his alarm only to bang his head on the underside of the top bunk bed

or the ceiling if he has the top bunk it's the same either way

also for some random reason i really enjoy thinking about semi and peach green tea. idk he feels like such a peach green tea person

fun fact when i first got into hq i made a list in my notes app where i could keep track of what i thought EVERY SINGLE CHARACTER (organized by team) would order at a boba shop/cafe so i could reference it for fics. i just looked at it for the first time in years. i apparently put down strawberry black tea for semi which still remains a pretty good choice i think

you know what. semi can be a strawberry black tea AND a peach green tea person. he goes for peach green tea when he feels like straying from his usual strawberry black tea. there i fixed the problem we're back on track

tendou uses the excuse of going on boba runs for the team to get alone time with semi. he'll be like "haha i can't get ALL the drinks by myself!! eita come with me :3" and semi just sighs but is honestly secretly really pleased that tendou would choose him out of everyone to run errands with

the greatest love language of all: running errands together

i actually think that, all things considered, semi was probably a little bit insecure and a little bit shy when it came to performing

like yeah he doesn't mind BEING in the spotlight. but he had to work on thinking he was good enough for it at first if that makes sense??? and i think being benched for shirabu probably exacerbates that

he's not used to showing other people his songs and his music!!! he's not used to being vulnerable!! he's not used to believing that he's skilled!!! because obviously that didn't work out in volleyball!! what if semi isn't actually as good at music as he thought himself to be?

tendou of course is determined to make him throw all these thoughts out the window

furudate please give us the secret cultural festival arc where semi gets a chance to shine because of his musical talents . . .

actually since shiratorizawa is a bunch of rich kids i wonder if yamagata has a smartphone bc i just think that'd make him constantly losing it 100x funnier

yamagata: "can everyone shut the fuck up for like five minutes i lost my phone and need help listening for the vibrations"

honestly why do i feel like half the times yamagata has "lost" his phone was really just tendou messing with him

like he's in the foreground running around looking for it while tendou is in the background snapping selfies with it or whatever

reon, ushijima, and yamagata like to go jogging together early in the morning. semi tried it once and then promptly decided never again

i actually think soft quiet early mornings are reon's favorite time of day!! he gets some peace to himself and he gets to see the sunrise bleed into the sky and he gets that crisp sweet air of fresh dew in the dawn and it's so so comforting to him

god i don't know how he does it i could never be that much of a morning person

however this does also mean reon goes to bed at like nine pm at the latest which tendou is personally offended by

reon the early bird riser who probably does yoga or some shit before meeting ushijima and yamagata vs tendou the night owl who stays up til three reading manga in the dark

genuinely how is tendou functioning at practice he probably stays up til three like four out of seven days of the week

(sorry i know i'm dunking on tendou a lot i'll stop now)

kawanishi will never admit it but he is so incredibly fond of the height difference between him and shirabu

it allows shirabu to fit his head perfectly in the crook of kawanishi's neck during bus rides and such and it makes kawanishi's heart flutter every time

but also kawanishi is MISERABLE during spring because shirabu can't comfortably do that when kawanishi is prone to sneezing like every five minutes

shirabu, teacher's pet that he is, is really good friends with the school librarian

oh my god . . . kawashira blue sky complex au . . . i would actually cry . . .

okay anyways shirabu kenjirou is really good friends with the school librarian and that's how he finds out that the school librarian used to know ushijima's dad

wouldn't that be crazy tho????? i'm thinking it was either the same librarian that utsui had or it was a close friend of utsui's who became the school librarian after they graduated and stuff. i'm kind of leaning towards the second one bc i feel like that makes more sense

i just. can you imagine how alone ushijima had to feel. can you imagine how suffocating it had to be. like there's plenty of reason to assume that his mom's side (and perhaps the mom herself) ended up disliking utsui and i wouldn't be surprised if they tried to scrub him out of ushijima's life

new idea guys utsui comes back and gets with the shiratorizawa librarian

i'm KIDDING

(mostly)

honestly i just think this scenario would really show off how much shirabu and ushijima mean to each other because i think that gets underestimated a lot

they trust each other!!! they respect each other!!!! they understand each other!!! ushijima who knows that he is to be used for his pure raw strength and that that's all shirabu wants to do for him and shirabu who wants to bring out the best in ushijima and thinks of himself as someone who serves ushijima!!!!! shirabu and ushijima who both think they're being used by the other but they don't care because that works best for them!!!! it's their way of showing respect!!! by handing the reigns over!!!!

okay that's a really serious oversimplification of what i'm actually thinking but i got like five hours of sleep and i'm running on two mugs of some strong ass lotus green tea i trust you guys y'all get what i mean

like idk i think ushijima wouldn't really know what to do with shirabu when they first meet in their second and first years. quiet upperclassman who is occasionally a jerk but mostly does not mean to be and his equally quiet underclassman who IS a jerk and DOES mean to be. they'd be so fucking funny together. they back each other up in ways they don't even realize. they could leave entire crowds in tears on accident

actually . . . the poor third years back then who had to deal with this first year they thought was quiet and composed and unassuming and totally chill. but was, in fact, completely unchill

shirabu's gone to bat for every single member of the team at some point btw. soekawa ushijima reon yamagata semi tendou etc etc. none of them have ever witnessed it though word just gets passed around to them like shirabu is some honor-defending ninja who only works in the shadows

and then it really surprises shirabu when they come to bat for HIM

i mean i just. i think shirabu is really used to being independent. is used to doing things by himself. he's not used to other people sticking up for him or other people trying to guide him (which could be another reason why he clashes with semi). it's not that he thinks he's perfect but like. he's never had people who wanted to do that for him before!!

but now he's got goshiki who WANTS compliments from him and he's got kawanishi who loves him for whatever reason and he's got the upperclassmen who ruffle his hair and swing an arm around his shoulders and tell him ot text when he needs help and he's just like ???? like a system error.

give it up for shirabu kenjirou everyone i love him

[denalidear]

Sleepy

a/n: oops. forgot i said i was gonna do this whole thing. well here a little fic i wrote a while back and never posted.

summary: wil is so eepy.

word count: 886

warnings: none?

- - -

It had been a long day for him, you knew. Between streaming, working on new music, and how late the two of you had stayed up the night before; he was tired. So when you asked to cuddle and watch a movie, you had put two and two together to start your master plan. You strategically placed yourself underneath him, his head on your collarbone as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“Love I’m going to fall asleep if you keep on playing with my hair.” He warned, adjusting so his arms were tucked well around your torso. He yawned and leaned into you more and you smiled.

“What if I told you that was the point?” You teased, trying to contain your laugh as to not disturb the sleepy boy.

“Then I’d tell you you’d better be comfortable because I won’t be moving once I’m asleep.” He mumbled, now pulling the blanket covering you two further up his shoulders.

“Bring it on, buddy.” You said, turning your attention back to the movie while continuing your ministrations in his hair. Soon enough you felt his weight sink into you, his breath coming out in soft puffs over your neck. He had fallen asleep and your plan was a success.

-----

Wil was a sleepy guy. After the first nap he’d had cuddling with you, he requested more and more. It became a regular occurrence for him to seek you out straight after finishing a stream, only to fall asleep in your arms.

But today, he was determined to prove he didn’t need a nap. You’d dragged him all around London, going to shops and cafes. He played along happily for the first four hours, but after dinner came and went his resolve was sarting to wear thin. He happily carried your tote bag that you’d filled with the goodies you’d acrewed, but he was nearly nodding off as you sat at the station waiting for the next train home.

“Wil.” You tapped his knee, “The announcer said it’d be pulling up soon.”

“Ok.” He nodded, resisting the urge to lean into your shoulder. Soon the train pulled up and you boarded. Wil fought to stay awake as he sunk into the plush of the seat.

“Baby you can sleep on my shoulder.” You said patting his leg to comfort him.

“No, I’m not tired, I promise.” He said quietly. As miuch as you wanted to believe him, not two minuets later his head was on your shoulder and he was snoring away. You couln’t help but smile.

-----

The band said goodnight to the crowd, passing out the set list and spare picks. The main lights came up as the audience began to leave and the band got off stage. Wil came straight up to you, as was post gig tradition, for a kiss and a very sweaty hug.

“You did great, handsome!” You smiled, holding his face between your hands. As you looked into his eyes, you could see the adrenaline slowly leaving his system as his eyelids began to slouch.

“Thanks darling.” He smiled, leaning in for another kiss. You decided it was time for him to go to bed, leaving the venue in favor of the quiet tour bus. He held your hand tight as you lead him to the bunks in the back, speaking quietly about how he thought the concert had gone. You tucked him in like a little kid, teasing him about being a toddler while he laughed.

“But will you cuddle with me?” He said, grabbing your hand before you could pull away.

“Of course, baby.” You smiled, kicking off your shoes and sliding into bed. Would you regret not changing into PJ’s when you woke up? Probably. But this moment was perfect, and you wouldn’t ever pick a shower over sleeping with your boyfriend.

-----

“Chat, guess who just got home from work?” Wil smiled as he looked at the text you had just sent him, confirming you made it safely to his house. He quickly typed back a response, saying he was on stream but that you should come and visit him. He continued speaking to chat before he heard a small knock on the door.

You creeped into his office, dragging your feet after a long day of work. “Hello, love.” Your boyfriend spun around in his chair and st up to greet you. He lifted his arms to invite you onto his lap and into a hug. “How was work?”

“Good. Just tired.” You mumbled into his neck. “You can keep playing. I’ll just cuddle.” He rubbed your back and turned back around to his screen.

“Chat, my darling has had a long day, so she’s a little tired. I’ll finish this up and then we are gonna go to bed.” He smiled, reaching around your body cuddled up to his chest and began to play again.

He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face as your head lulled back and your weight sunk into him. “I think she fell asleep.” He whispered to chat. He looked down at your peaceful face. “Yeah she’s totally out.” He giggled, keeping his voice low.

“That’s my cue to leave, friends. Thanks for tuning in. I’ve got to get my love into bed, poor girl. Good night, everyone.”

[i05wook]

NOW LOADING... LOVER BOY

PAIRING: PARK GUNWOOK X GN! READER

GENRE: FLUFF, IDOL AU, COLLEGE AU

SUMMARY: AN INSIGHT TO THE CUTE, ADORABLE, DOMESTIC BOYFRIEND PARK GUNWOOK

WORD COUNT: 700+ WORDS

AUTHORS' NOTES: SORRY FOR SUCH A LONG TIME AWAY FROM THIS ACCOUNT BUT NEW YEAR NEW START. AND WHAT A WAY TO START THAN WITH THIS MAN'S BIRTHDAY POST!! HONESTLY, HE'S BROUGHT A LOT OF SUNSHINE INTO MY LIFE RECENTLY, AND IM SO HAPPY TO HAVE DISCOVERED ZB1!!

DOWNLOADING...

It had been a couple of weeks since both of you had seen each other due to both of your conflicting schedules. While Gunwook had been busy preparing for his concerts and comebacks, you had been preparing for your big project due for your degree. However, you both finally had a day off together where you could be free from the burdens of your day to day lives. This meant that you could finally enjoy each other's company for as long as humanly possible, before you both had to leave again to deal with your individual responsibilities. The day was spent with Gunwook, Gyuvin, and Yujin, two of your favourite boys in the world (after your boyfriend). The four of you visited the new samoyed café which had opened up only a block away from the boys’ dorm, and who were you to decline such an opportunity to spend time with your boyfriend and best friends. The entire time you guys were there, you couldn't help but take pictures of your adorable boyfriend cuddling up and playing with the puppies the entire time. Every so often, he’d take notice of your photo taking, and pose with the puppies or the other two boys. It meant so much to you to give the boys these chances away from idol life to form memories with each other, and help heal the inner child, which was lost to the idol life they chose.  After you spent hours at the animal cafe, you invited the rest of the boys to join the four of you for Korean barbecue at the restaurant by their dorms. The spent enjoying the company of the nine boys, whilst eating delicious food meant that the daylight which remained had soon disappeared from your grasp, and the hours of darkness began.  As the hour hand edged closer to midnight, the boys’ liveliness dropped off, and before you knew it you all headed back to their dorms. The boys knew how hard it had been for Gunwook to have been separated from you for a period of time in which he was very stressed, and could only imagine how you had felt during that time.  The boys who usually bunked up with Gunwook, retreated to other rooms in the dorm to allow the pair of you some quality time together (mainly away from Gyuvin‘s constant teasing!) before it was ruined again the following afternoon.  The hours which followed were spent purely in silence wrapped up in each other's warmth and company, the air was filled with a comfortable silence, as you both recharged in the embrace of your lovers, an exchange that often occurred after the long breaks away from each other. However, before you knew it, it was the early hours of the following morning, and while darkness still lingered in the night sky. The dorm stood silent with all the boys exhausted from the past few weeks of preparations, yet both you and Gunwook remained awake bathing in each other's presence.  That was up until Gunwook’s stomach grumbled under the quilt, igniting a laughing fit from deep under the quilt. You rolled out of his grasp, with great difficulty, before you stood up on the cold wooden floor and dragged Gunwook out of his bed and towards the kitchen in search of food.  While rummaging in one of the cupboards, right at the back, lay two packs of instant noodles and a box of eggs, a favourite late snack of the both of you. While you watched the water begin to boil in the small metallic pan on top of the stove, Gunwook waddled over to you in his Snorlax onesie and wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. You weren’t sure when, but in a moment of silence, you heard a familiar tune begin to play quietly from a phone which lay on the kitchen counter. The song just so happened to be “Good Night” from their latest album, and a favourite of yours. While you watched the water begin to boil, he began gently swaying the pair of you from side to side, his head buried in the crook of your neck.  Unbeknownst to you, he had set up his phone in the corner of the room, recording such a heartwarming, domestic sight, keen to share this video with the world when the time allowed. 

[soapels]

flash

john “soap” mactavish x female reader

your good friend soap’s been actin’ a lil weird lately… but as long as you keep pretending otherwise, it’ll be okay. right…?

tw: nsfw/smut, reader has this thing where she playfully calls him soapy, friends to lovers sort of, comrades to lovers, alcohol use, emotional?? mentions of and allusions to mental illness

notes: yall this one took a while to cook up, ngl. but soap doesnt get as much love as he should!! so please accept this tender lil fic and enjoy 😖 and tell me if u enjoyed lol i’d be over the moon ♡ once again, readmore is bugging so…. Sorry 🥲

all hearts, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated!

There’s not much in this world that can ease the trauma that war leaves behind.

You’ve been a part of the team for a while, long enough to walk in on things you shouldn’t have- conversations meant for the higher-ups, things your ears weren’t supposed to hear. And you’ve shut your mouth, zipped it up tight and threw the key to the bottom of the sea by silently walking away from it all.

Sometimes you stumble upon things that aren’t inherently wrong, either- like Ghost winding down one night to a bottle of whiskey, a glimpse of his brown, doleful eyes- but it somehow feels out of place, too.

Nothing ever feels right, around here.

But you don’t want to leave, exactly, truthfully you think a big part of you will always be stuck here with the military and blood and gunpowder, like some dirty stain you can never quite scrub away completely.

And even stranger- you don’t think you’d have it any other way.

You dropped the hypothetical shit a while ago, no more dreams of living at the edge of a city in New York or owning a cozy little cafe like that one Simon particularly liked. Stopped wishing over shooting stars and leaning on pipe dreams of your life after the war’s done.

Because the war’s never really done, and that’s why you can’t go. To suddenly walk away from it all, emerge from a cloud of orange smoke to the suburbs- that’d feel worse than suicide, because you never finished shit, you let it finish you.

You’re not gonna leave first, you decided on your fourth mission, at least not on your own volition. Either you go down with the chaos, or you’re lucky enough and don’t.

And… You walk in on things you’re not always supposed to.

Like Soap hunched over by his bunk one quiet evening, the horizon a burning mess of red and deep tangerine outside the small window, curtains billowing ever so softly in the breeze.

…Doin’ something you still can’t find it in you to say.

And you wanted to do something, upon the door creaking open- pull a lighthearted scare on him like he does you sometimes, but more importantly, tell him that your Lieutenant told you to tell him that he’s on cleaning duty tonight. (He never likes cleaning much, Johnny, but he’s damn good at it- fast, too, probably under the incentive of a good night’s sleep.)

But there’s something in the air- must be- because your knees lock up and you gape at the back of his head, one large hand bracing against the bar of the bed, the other… wrapped around his front, jerking jerking jerking.

Confusion kicks in, for a solid moment as you piece it all together- the lack of a lamp light in the sunset-bathed room, the odd quietness and the precaution stitched in the stiff muscles of his back, shirtless and slightly sweating- and then comes the slow realization.

Common sense strikes you next.

You shut your mouth, turn on your heel, eyes bulging and all, nearly trip over your laces-

“Ah-“

And as the door quietly closes, your petrified gaze meeting Soap’s hazy blue one through the diminishing slit, you know you’ve fucked up.

You hear him call your name just before you go, his voice thick and heady, his Scottish accent just a rasping breath as you blink away the mad blush and counter it back with a frail call over your shoulder.

“Uhm- sorry! Ghost- um- h-he said you’re on cleaning duty!!”

Fuck.

♡♡♡

“All water under the bridge, Soapy.”

You tell him confidently after a whole week of awkwardly skirting around him, pretending he was nonexistent sitting across of you in the truck or plane. Truthfully, you were too embarrassed of your mishap to do much otherwise.

But none of that has to be known, so if he spots the nerves in your eyes, he doesn’t comment on it, and you’d like to think your little grin is convincing enough.

“Y’sure, lass?” He says uncertainly, rubbing the back of his neck as his oceanic hues flit between you and the wall behind you. You nod, sparing a cautionary glance over his shoulder to your comrades swaying around with every bump of the gravel road, bodies knocking together, shoulders brushing and—

“Lass…?”

“Oh,” you blink owlishly, mentally returning back to the male before you, “sorry, guess my mind wasn’t all there.”

“All on good things, I hope?” He offers a half-embarrassed little chuckle there, and when the sentiment clicks, you huff fondly and look away.

“Good things,” you confirm, ever bashful.

And there’s a stretch of peaceful silence; the muted crunch of gravel beneath the big tires, some mild chatter and exchanged banter between your Captain and Gaz (albeit, it comes mostly from Price), and the light rustle of bodies brushing together.

Your mind wanders away in that wordless reprieve, and though you vaguely register Soap’s presence still there- those blue, inquisitive eyes hovering over you- he’s no more than an afterthought as you slowly zone out.

Far. Away.

The glint of the steely rafters overhead. The ripped fabric of the seats. Camo and black and bleakness, everywhere, all the time, no color. You can’t feel your body.

Gunfire. Chaos. Your ears ring, a perpetual bell of terror in your head as adrenaline courses through your veins, fear making its daily rounds within you.

No escape, no red exits or arrows to an end- just you and the field of sand, endless and dry, swarmed with enemies that you can’t find it in you to leave behind for another.

It’s over, something weak and brittle-boned screams inside you, wailing, in the high-pitched voice of a child hiding under the bed. It’s over It’s over It’s over.

It’s over again.

…But he’s there, in all your trembling, concerned sapphire and a boyish sort of gentleness, a gloved hand reaching for you.

(Gunfire, gunfire, gunfire. Something’s nicked your leg, maybe.)

“…You good?”

You gasp inaudibly. Wide, deer-in-headlights gaze meeting a vaguely worried one.

His hand, idly sliding over the length of his gun, almost jitters as he quietly searches you for a sign of response, for a familiar smile or a pleasant little laugh that serves as a salve to his soul.

And for a fleeting, terrifying moment, Soap looks earnestly for life in those e/c hues, and finds grains of sand in his boots.

Your lips curl, ever so slightly, and that curse is broken.

“Yes,” you breathe, lashes fluttering down to the gun in your own arms— much too big for you, heavy, full of bullets named home (because you can’t feel safe without them)— and then your eyes fall to your legs, the camo hiding the healing mass of bandages there.

Soap wrapped most of them.

“Thanks, Johnny.”

When his cheeks dust over an unsuspecting red, you realize you’ve fucked up for the second time this week.

Because nobody calls him Johnny. Nobody but your headstrong Lieutenant.

…Jerking your chin away, wordless and tense in the direction of the vehicle’s driver, Soap can tell you’re sorry.

And he sighs then, exasperated- just as you- yet soft, too. His eyes follow yours, equipment jostling quietly in the droning lull of the long trip ahead.

“…No harm done there, lass.”

There’s a trace of a smile on his lips. Exhausted. True.

♡♡♡

Bruises, cuts, heavy fists and evil intent— literal bullets to the skin- you’ve taken it all, yet none of that seems to matter now, every bad memory bleeding into the swirl of your glass, ice tinkling together as you slowly relax into Soap’s sofa.

It smells of him, you think. Something woodsy and unexplainably Johnny- perhaps a trace of minty aftershave…

You feel nice, slumped back into the cushions in a haze- happy, even. Or perhaps not happy, exactly, but dazed and dumb and good. The sweet-tanged concoction too dizzying to think.

You can’t think; good, it must be.

Soap’s sat next to you, clad in faded denim jeans and a white top that clings loosely to his built muscles. His legs are spread somewhat, long made himself comfortable, thighs thick and strong through the rugged-blue material.

His condition’s not far off from yours, sporting a glass of his own, approaching his fifth of the night, though you suspect he holds his alcohol much better, because you hardly ever drink, and you’re already feeling tipsy after the second shot. Meanwhile, he’s still managing to articulate a sentence, a dopey grin occasionally showing on his face.

Sat at the armchair across the coffee table, Ghost is a stoic wreck of fatigue and relief, steadily nursing a bourbon as Soap babbles on about some old highschool story of his.

It’s probably something funny, something the sober you wouldn’t want to miss, something you’d tuck away in your brain for later to poke harmless fun at your pal with. But you’re so tired and lost and intoxicatedly stupid right now, and for the life of you, you can’t convince yourself to turn over and hear him out.

Later, the hopeful part of you whispers, when you’re less fucked up and leaden. (Later never comes.)

Ghost’s brown eyes are glossy beneath his balaclava, a sort of look kin to post-nut clarity glinting in them as he witnesses the two of you slowly. Processing, processing, processing. As if he’s looking through a pane of glass, not really there, but he feels every crippling sensation all the same and his mouth feels awkward, he’s drunk and his tongue is heavy.

He shouldn’t take another sip. He does anyway.

Maybe he’s not listening to Johnny half-coherently list off fables from his youth, maybe he’s simply existing and basking in the otherwise quiet moment-the temporary peace. And maybe Soap knows his Lieutenant zoned off a while ago, that now no ears in the whole entire world are listening to him spill the humorous side of his heart.

Maybe it doesn’t matter. None of it.

…There comes a point, though, where Soap looks over to you.

Those eyes, a murky, inscrutable sapphire, drag over you. Slowly. There’s something on his mind, something heavy and wild and that he can’t control, yet he doesn’t tell a word of it, and for the life of you, you can’t figure out why.

(You’re drunk anyway, you’re done and over with for the night. So what’s it matter anyway?)

(But it’s Soap, so you want to know.)

Finally, those hazy blues settle on your empty glass, clasped loosely in your fingers.

“…Pour y’another?”

You snort halfheartedly, mustering up a joke. (‘Cept, it’s not really funny, and your words are slurring. You sound stupid, you can’t feel your body. Pop pop pop, gunfire in the distance, playing like a broken vinyl cd in the crook of your head…)

“Soap… I don’t think I can take another…”

His chest rumbles low at that.

“S’pose yer right.”

He’s reaching forward, leaning into the coffee table, snatching a bottle and gesturing to your mug anyway.

You’re smiling like a plastered, exhausted bimbo when you obediently proffer it out to him and watch him fill it up. Slowly, but his strong arm’s a little uncoordinated as he pours it, and he almost spills some.

It’s more than you can ever hope to drink right now, you realize as he sets the whiskey back down, pressing the glass back to you. You think with enough ambition and torturous silence, though, you’ll be able to find way to swallow it all.

(The lot of you are good at that.)

It’s when you take your second sip that Ghost rises from the couch.

“I’m done-in for the night.”

He’s fucked up too, bad, you can tell. But he hides it well, always has, hardly a stumble to his step as he spares you a tired, mutual nod and turns in the direction of the hall.

“Sure, Lt,” Soap calls after him, the two of you watching Simon disappear into the dim glow of the hallway. “There’s blankets in the hall closet if y’get too cold.”

And it’s when you hear the soft click of a door, a bed promptly groaning under a foreign weight, that an unprecedented sense of drunken boldness takes over and you rise.

“Lass-?”

(He’s already poised to reach for you, prepared to follow right behind you should you say the word, if something’s wrong.)

Pop pop pop.

You tip your head back, gulping down the liquid- an evident bit of spice that sears your throat, a complimentary vanilla, too- ‘til you’re staring at an empty bottom.

Turnin’ back to Soap.

Jaw slack, eyes a glossy mess of intoxication and confusion- maybe even worry- Soap looks up at you with knitted brows. Ready to sit you back down, perhaps noticing the quiet war behind your dopey blinks- eager to convince you there’s nothing to be afraid of- he shouldn’t have poured you another, it’s time to hit the hay, maybe—

“Johnny,” you say, and it knocks the very breath out of him, “More.”

…More it is.

He belatedly takes your emptied mug in his hands, almost trembling as he snuffs out all of his internal turmoil and brims your glass with more of that addictive substance.

Pours himself another, too. (Figures he’ll need it to sleep tonight. Though, it’ll hurt like hell in the morning- that’s when he’ll truly pay for it.)

Settling back into the sofa (admittedly not in best shape, leather worn-in, a few scratches), he watches you tap in and out of your beverage, and when your hips start to sway- thin fabric of your nightgown shifting along your thighs- a good piece of him (the last of his rationality) burns with the whiskey at the back of his throat.

Oh, you want to butcher him tonight, don’t you?

There’s no sound, just the pleasant backdrop of rain dripping off the apartment’s roof and the occasional car whistling down the city streets, yet you move like it’s your favorite song.

Lazy, loosely-controlled, like every sentiment flows through you like a conduit.

Brokenness there, Johnny finds snapped twigs and bullet shells and the screams that catch deep in your lungs after another close call. But he discovers hope there too, a courageous peace and a beam of your forgiving moon…

Wants to swim in your waters.

(But you don’t bleed the same chaos he’s realized he can. You reek of immovable innocence; he’s beheaded men and liked it- he’s imagined you outside of your hellish job and shimmied out of those thick fatigues- pictured you naked and happy on his cock. And that lovely gown you’re in now makes you so fuckin’ precious in his eyes…)

(It frames you like an angel. You are, Soap knows. You are. And he deserves no part of it.)

Your body ebbs like a tide.

A gentle, hypnotic lullaby that Soap thinks is awfully inviting, jaw stiff at the way your perky ass tempts him beneath the pale silk, jeans growing a touch tighter as the seconds tick by. (Has he been watching you for forever? Have you been swaying for only a moment? He doesn’t know, but—)

It’s enough.

He rises too, then, large hands meeting the curve of your hips, settling there like he’s belonged for some time, eyes hooded as they sweep over the expanse of your neck and collarbones, point of his nose scraping against the column of your throat.

“Want t’kill me tonight, d’you, lass?”

You almost pause for a moment at his touch, he can feel it in the way you stiffen, the faint shiver of your spine. But you don’t let his presence stop you, and for that he’s ever thankful.

“No,” you breathe, and it’s just as soft as it is drunk.

Slurred, and falling apart, still you’re a sight for sore eyes, the callous pads of his fingers slowly riding down the plush of your thigh… “Never, Soapy.”

Soapy. What a fucking nickname. Probably one of the stranger things he’s gotten hard at- not that he’s complaining, because though for anyone else it wouldn’t slide, it sounds so sweet leaving your lips.. makes warmth furl out in his chest…

Hands roaming, roaming, and roaming some more.

Stopping midway, where the frilly hem of that tantalizing gown lies…

Testing your waters, though he wants nothing more than to pull the fabric off you and dive right in.

“Gorgeous thing,” he murmurs back, this time into the side of your jaw, his lips smushing into your cheek as he insinuates himself behind you. Wonderin’ if you fully realize the persistent bulge at your rear-side and if you do, whether or not you like it.

(D’you want him, too? Oh, fuck, he hopes you want him, too. Don’t know what he’ll do otherwise…)

When his thumb grazes against the smooth skin of your belly and you offer no rebuttal, he relaxes some behind you, blood roaring through his ears (down south, too). Hoping you’ll be impossibly generous with him, even if just for tonight, even if you’ll both forget it all by the morning and this little daydream of his will be swept under the rug ‘til he stumbles again and needs to revisit it.

“Fuckin’ hell, lass…” he sort of groans. “Sway those hips s’more for me, yeah…?”

You’re too good, he thinks as you lean back into him and give him just what he asked for, you’re too good and now he’s hot and needy for you. Only you. (Why’s it only ever you?)

The alcohol’s getting to his head, his mouth feels fuzzy and his throat is cotton but he likes it- the embers licking at the pit of his belly doing no favors for his intoxication.

M’ drunk off you, lass. He wants to say, or at least something of the sort. But his lips are sealed, and the patters of rain stay steady outside. And not a word comes out.

Not until his hips start grinding against yours, hands hungrily groping up to the mounds of your tits, and you mewl. You fucking mewl. A soft whine, hardly a breath, really- but it’s somehow satisfied and greedy all at once and Soap knows right then that you need him just as he needs you.

(You need him.)

“Fuck, Y/n,” he grunts, voice thick with arousal, low with remnants of exhaustion. “Let me take ya to m’ room… Please?”

And you do, obedient as he flips you around, carefully hoisting you up, palms cupping the unders of your thighs as he heads off in the direction of the hallway.

He wants to kiss you, to twirl his tongue with yours and taste the sweeter option of liquor you let him pour you tonight, he wants to do everything he’s ever wanted to with you- but he doesn’t.

Sex is one thing- to fuck you is already worse enough but at least he could chalk it up to just blowing off some steam. But kissing... That crossed a whole different line and leapt over into something far more personal.

You two will be in big trouble should Ghost suddenly emerge from the guest room and find you- you’re certain this isn’t allowed, but Soap’s arms are setting you down on his bed and his mouth is suckling at your neck and you like it.

But—

“Johnny,” you whine breathlessly. He somehow, amidst the inebriation and the heady poke of your breasts against his chest- the sin of his name on your tongue- recognizes the hesitance there and finds it in him to pause.

“What?” Voice all raspy and fucked-up. Impatient, slightly harsh.

(But his heart is running so fast it echoes in his brain.)

“This is-…” you swallow. “This is wrong.”

Johnny sighs. “Lass,” the backs of his knuckles brush over your cheek, up along your jaw ‘til his fingers are stroking back your hair, and his eyes are a tsunami, roaring waves folding over a gentle tide as he peers at you.

(Fuck, he sees you. He totally, fully sees you.)

Pupils a blown-out mess of adoration and tenderness and something deeper you can’t quite place.

“M’fraid it all is.”

His lips ghost over yours- for a moment he almost sinks his teeth into the softness there, but at the last second they shift gears and descend upon you, placing a flurry of pecks on your tummy. Down down down, ‘til he’s rucking up your gown and the tip of his nose is burrowing into the dip of your panties- the wetness there exacerbating his raging hard-on.

You shiver violently at his touch, lazily propped up on your elbows as you gape down at him. Your fingers find his head, tangling into his mohawk, grazing against the shaved hair. His eyes glow like a beast, large palms dragging your hips in, bracing into your thighs.

His eyes roll back some at your touch. The gentleness you regard him with in those shimmery eyes of yours- you’ve had him on a tight leash for a while now. He hopes you know, and wonders if you’d loosen his chains a little, just to free him some. (Does he even want to be free?)

“Johnny, I…” (The intensity in his gaze so heady and endless you can’t muster up a proper sentence.)

“…Can make y’happy,” he huffs out, then, his hot breath melding against your clothed pussy- needy and aching for your usually-cheery comrade. “Can make ya cum on my tongue, if that’s what y’want.”

The moon slivers in through the still curtains. His words are slurred. Johnny is so drunk. You are, too. You’ll regret this tomorrow morning if you remember. And you will, of course you will, because you remember everything. (Least, all the things you shouldn’t…)

Johnny, though- cheeks a ruddy mess of infatuation and tender, overwhelming arousal- is worth all of it.

“I jus’ want you,” you breathe incoherently after a belated beat of silence.

There’s a split second of nothingness- where Soap has to piece together your sloppy (yet no less sincere) whisper-

And then there’s a broken little whimper on his end. His fingers hooking into the hem of your panties and tugging ‘em down- vicious, almost. No more waiting. You asked too nicely for him to turn you down anyway.

“You’ll get me.” He whispers coarsely. He hikes your legs up over his shoulders, fumbling flat onto his tummy- still, somehow careful of the bandages around your knee- and doesn’t waste any time.

Diving in, placing a preparatory kiss to to your clit before nuzzling into your folds—

Your head immediately thrashes into his pillows, jaw gaping as you stifle a desperate moan, eyes pinned to the ceiling.

“Oh, Johnny,” you whine, and your voice is so thin- skin so glassy in the flicker of the moon- that he’s sure one wrong touch will break you entirely.

(And he wants to break you, maybe. If only to put your pieces back together, bring you to beautiful ruin on his cock and tongue and fingers and soul, just so he can recombine you after all is said and done. Be the one to kiss away your tears, pocket them like souvenirs- whenever he feels particularly awful he can pull them out and remember how they made your eyes shine like magic 8balls. And for a moment, all the wrong will fade.)

“That’s it, pretty gal,” his palms hold your quivering thighs apart, keeping you mostly steady beneath him. But when he shifts, teases his index finger at the core of you and sinks it in- so deep- so much longer than yours- you let out a shivering moan that the back of your hand can’t hold.

He hushes you, briefly pulling away from your pussy, and you think you hear something close to love there. “Hush, lass,” he whispers. “Much as I want t’hear ya, word gets out to Shepherd and we’re done for.”

Soap gets a shaky, long exhale in return, and from where he lies between your legs, he watches your tummy stutter with every breath, breasts torturing him with every jostle.

“I don’t think I can take it.” You confess.

(Fuck, he has to ruin you.)

He sighs deeply. “You will…”

You beg him a lot; small fingers fisted in his stripe of hair, unwittingly tugging and whining as quiet as you could, that he’d save you the hell and give his cock to you already. But it’s only after you’ve come undone on his tongue that he finally indulges you- though he’s more than willing, fumbling for his slacks as he settles you back down, nose brushing against yours as he lines himself up.

“Tell me you still want it…”

“I want you,” you breathe.

He’s kissing you, cock pushing in with a feral little growl that rocks the both of you, muffled in the swirl of your tongue as his hips meet the underside of your thighs. He pushes ‘em to your chest.

“Fuck, lass, wanted to do this for a while,” he confesses in a breathy sort of whine, and when you whimper confusedly back he pulls away some, gives you a shaky nod. His balls are tight already, belly flipping with arousal and lust and the pure need to fill you up.

“Mhm,” he hums, all reassurance, gentle, uncoordinated fingers smoothing back your hair as he drinks in the sight of you. Perfect beneath him, eyes hardly meeting his, lashes dewy with pleasure- all given by him- breasts jostling like a treat as he drives himself into your warmth.

As tender as he can make it, as good as he can hold back.

“Thought about this for too long. Was so afraid that evening you walked in on me— ah— but… suppose you wanted it too, yeah?”

He’s kissing you again. Why’s he kissing you again-?

“I want ye,” he murmurs against you, and you’re trying so hard not to make a peep, gnawing on your love-swollen lips when Soap finally pulls away for oxygen- but perhaps something inside him snaps, looking down at you, ruined by his hand, because the next thing he says—

“Fuckin’ hell- don’t hold back, lass, don’t care who hears anymore,” he near begs, low voice rubbed raw with alcohol and, well, the sight of you, raising a pitch.

“Y’sound so pretty, so fuckin’ good, just let me hear you…”

And the pathetic part is- he’s already getting close, already feels that niggling, simmering sensation clutching in the pit of his belly as he rams his length in and out of you, watching your pretty face contort with pleasure— all given by him— and—

And when you finally unhook your bottom lip from your teeth and loose a whimpering, wanton moan for him, he comes on the spot.

Witnessing the twisted, cloying expression he makes as he lets out a long, feral groan, you think you come, too.

(Sure felt like it anyway- on Soap’s end, too. Fuck.)

But he just collapses over you, letting your sweaty skin fold against his as he burrows into the crook of your neck, suckles little red and pink marks that’ll linger tomorrow, and the next day, and the next…

“Yr’gorgeous,” he murmurs, leaning away some to look you in the eyes.

His glitter with warmth- you suspect he might’ve hidden a tear in the juncture of your neck- and they harbor this unmistakeable, eddying flash of love.

“You know that, yeah? …How gorgeous y’are?”

His pupils are blown wide, swallowing up a ring of baby blue. His calloused palms hold you close. So close. You can’t leave, you think, can’t squirm away even if you wanted to— not in Johnny’s grasp.

You muster up the sweetest, most fatigued little smile, and send it his way. “I-I know, Johnny.”

He shifts one final time, grinning tiredly (still, he’s won a medal, tonight, the best he could’ve ever aspired for) as he makes himself comfortable behind you- still tucked inside you- and wraps his strong arms ‘round your torso.

The bed creaks once more- loud, may you add, because Johnny stopped—

“Bloody hell! Go to sleep, will ya?!”

[thedroneranger]

Sending Vibes

Robert "Bob" Floyd

Précis: Near or far, Bob will send you vibes wherever you are.

Note: The Bob Fucks agenda is a like a drug. I got one bump and needed another. This is a companion to Vibe Check but can also be read on its own. Enjoy!

Warnings: 18+ only, explicit.

Word count: 1.6k

A frown downturned your lips, and your arms slipped from under the blankets to the pillows above your head. A deep sigh left your body as you thought about how much better your solo session would be if it weren’t solo.

You rarely masturbated alone. Hell, you rarely masturbated at all, because you finally landed the flyboy you had your eyes on all this time: Bob Floyd. 

In the months since Bob stumbled upon you pleasuring yourself in your bunk and decided to help out, you two fucked like rabbits. You had managed to find every nook unseen by a camera on base, and you both knew each others’ homes like the back of your hands. In both houses, there wasn’t a surface you hadn’t fornicated on.

Although you and Bob had yet to define the relationship, it was obvious to the two of you that you were only seeing each other. It was also obvious no one else was going to do it for you quite like each other.

All the sessions between the sheets led you to spending more nights and mornings together. At some point, you’d learned Bob was quite the coffee connoisseur. Part of his morning routine included coffee from his favorite cafe a few blocks from his house. 

At first, he would sneak out of bed for a coffee run, returning to wake you with a freshly brewed cup. Now you would join him, sitting together outside the cafe in the late morning before it was too hot to be outside. You had forewarned Bob your palate hadn’t expanded beyond burnt coffee and sugary lattes from coffee chains. Each time, in earnest, he would explain a feature of coffee: caffeine level, intensity, roast. It made your chest tight to listen to him nerd out.

For the past few weeks, your sexcapades and domestic routine had been on hold. Bob had been summoned to a naval base across the country to help prepare pilots for a classified mission.

So far, Bob’s absence didn’t just make your heart grow fonder, it also made your core ache. One of the reasons you and Bob were compatible is you were both always ready to go. You were perpetually wet, and one look from you had Bob pitching a tent.

Without Bob physically present, you had been spending evenings in your bed or his—someone had to water his plants while he was away—with your favorite toys. Since Bob was on another base across the country and not tucked away on a carrier somewhere in the middle of an ocean, you would trade steamy texts, photos and the occasional after dark video call.

Laying in Bob’s bed, wearing only his Academy t-shirt, you were basking in the glow of your first orgasm. Already gearing up for another, you scrolled through the audio erotica app you loved so much that you bought a subscription. Your toys were bluetooth compatible with the app, which added another trick to your bag to keep you busy.

Of course, an app update became available while you were browsing, so you took a couple minutes to let it complete. A pop-up took over your screen when you reopened the app. As you read it, your lips pulled into a smile.

Bob could now control your vibrator from anywhere.

Your mind was already racing, deciding how you wanted to introduce the new feature to him. Fortunately, you had already sent a few pictures, which led to a promise for him to video call you later. 

The idea of Bob manning your vibrator while you had phone sex had you squeezing your thighs together. Your wand was the perfect choice. Making sure it was connected to the app, you tapped around until you secured the share code. 

Kneeling on the bed, knees wide, you held the wand at your naked apex and snapped a photo. Happy with the result, you added the app code and a message, You're in control, before pressing send.

In less than 15 minutes, Bob’s contact photo of him sporting a cappuccino mustache lit up your phone. You bit your lip as you accepted the call. He didn’t even give you time to greet him. “You’ve been teasing me all day, and you’re giving me control of your vibrator? You’re playing with fire, darlin’.”

A smile crossed your lips. “Burn me, Bobby,” you challenged him. You didn’t even have the chance to vocalize your next thought as the vibrator you’d left in your lap buzzed.

“I don’t have much time before someone comes looking for me,” Bob explained. “Now, I want you to slide your pretty pussy along that wand like you do to me when you’re being a cock tease. Prop up the phone so I can see all of you.” 

Bob moved his phone so you could see him, sitting on the edge of his bunk. His t-shirt off and flight suit pushed around his knees. Free hand fisting his hard-on. Pre-cum already oozing.

You froze for a minute, your mouth slightly open. “Close your mouth, darlin’.” Bob brought you back to the moment, bringing the phone back to his face. “Now, do as I say. I want to see you come before I have to hang up.”

“Yes, Lieutenant,” you responded with a smirk. Bob felt his whole being vibrate at your words. See, Bobby would never admit it, but he absolutely got off on being called lieutenant when he was ordering you around. 

He watched as you set the phone in a place that gave him a wide angle view. Then, you placed yourself in the middle of the bed with your wand between your legs so the head was pressed against you.

“That’s it, darlin’,” Bob cooed as he watched you and pumped his length, swiping his thumb over the head. He positioned his phone so you also had a full view of him.

Without warning, he turned on the vibrator, which made you jump. You glared at him while he threw a smirk at you. Hands on your thighs, you found a rhythm that had your lips parted and barely audible gasps of pleasure spilling out. Bob was showering you with praise, and you noticed his hips falling into pace with yours.

In one smooth motion, you flipped Bob’s shirt over your head, leaving you completely naked. Although you weren’t close enough to see, you knew Bob’s irises were nearly eclipsing his pupils. Hell, neither of you thought it possible, but he was sure he felt his dick stiffen more at the sight of you.

A salacious moan escaped you when Bob changed the vibration pattern. Fortunately, you were able to take it in stride, tilting your head back, closing your eyes and moving your hands to knead your breasts. “Bobby.” His name was long, drawn out as it left your lips.

“C’mon, darlin’. Come for me.” Bob’s voice was low and restrained—he was absolutely holding himself back from finishing. 

“Bobby, I need you.” You paused. “I need your help.” Your voice was whiny, pleading for attention you already had. Your gaze caught his as you leaned toward the phone, still rocking against the vibrator.

Bob picked up his phone, so his face filled the screen. “Lay back, darlin’. I want to see all of you.” Soothed by his voice, you settled into the pillows, awaiting his next instruction. “Now press the wand to yourself.” Again, you followed his direction. “Don’t move it.” Your hips jerked when he upped the speed of the wand without warning. “Don’t move it,” he repeated. “Let me do the work.”

With that, you let your eyes close and your head relax into the pillows. Bob’s voice filled your ears as your entire body began to come to a boil. Your breath shortened and your abdomen tightened. Finally, you peaked. 

Seconds later, you heard Bob’s breathing pattern change as he also finished. You looked at the phone to find him laying back on his bunk with cum pooling on his stomach. “Mhmm, I wish I could clean you up.” You picked up your phone to get a better look at him.

He grabbed his phone and brought it closer to his face. “I wish I could be inside you. So warm, velvety…” he trailed off.

“Bobby.” Warning heavy in your tone. “If you don’t stop, you’re gonna have to find another 15 minutes right now.” His crooked grin appeared. 

For a moment, you just sat in silence, in each other’s virtual presence. Bob was the first to speak. “Well, darlin’, I should get cleaned up.” You looked him in the eyes. “Glad we have a new toy to play with.” His smile reappeared. 

“Me, too,” you added. “I’ll leave it connected so you can keep sending vibes.” You winked at him. Bob’s smile grew impossibly larger. With one final goodbye, you ended the call. 

Sitting in his bed, you were startled when your wand vibrated, and then your phone. On your phone, Bob’s name was there with a new message: Just a quick vibe check. You laughed recalling the first time you had used a vibrator together. 

Hopping out of bed, you replied to Bob. As you shuffled to the kitchen to get a drink and feed yourself, you browsed the web for a welcome back gift. A bluetooth-enabled vibrating cockring seemed like it could be well received. You pondered it for less than a minute before adding it to your cart and purchasing. 

A perfect way to keep the vibes going.

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[brandogenius]

hi love, could you write julien x reader where reader is also a singer? like maybe like daisy jones? please and thank u so much

hi darling! of course i can!!

‼️RPF‼️

HC - Julien x Singer Reader

- julien and you met at coachella. both of you were playing the same day. you ended up being backstage watching another musician when julien came up beside you to watch the act as well

- your music is considered to be indie / alternative / pop

- both of you just chill in each others presence until julien reaches out first to introduce herself.

- you knew of boygenius just from hearing their name a lot. you liked some of their music

- definitely bonding over jbs tattoos, they interest you

- you want tattoos but don’t know if you can commit to it

- julien leaning in because she can’t hear you over the music but fans take videos of it and scream on the internet

- new ship incoming but you don’t really use social media that much so you’re kinda oblivious to it

- you’re up next so jb gives you her phone number so you can talk again, maybe go for some coffee after coachella.

- jb is amazed by your vocals, your stage presence. how you make the stage your own.

- heart eyes from the side of the stage, phoebe definitely taking videos and photos to use as blackmail for the future

- when you two get together a lot of people were expecting it but also shocked

- the chemistry both of you have is very strong. there’s a lot of photos on yours and juliens instagram, from coachella to hanging out at each others houses

- one that everyone freaks out about is the two of you in the studio together

- both of you laying around the house playing guitar together, teaching each other your songs

- julien teaching you how to play banjo, you teach her how to play ukulele

- ukulele you ask? don’t question it. you know how to play a wide variety of instruments but guitar is your favourite

- both of you go to music festivals all the time.

- usually in the back sitting on a picnic blanket while you make friendship bracelets or sing along to the music

- during a solo tour you have, you bring julien out for a unreleased song both of you made and fans go crazy

- kinda similar to taylor, you have a fan project for making friendship bracelets for the tour

- seeing you and julien before the show, going in for soundcheck you abd julien trading bracelets with fans

- jb is either backstage or at the back of the venue. if it’s backstage she’s taking videos and seen smiling behind the curtain watching you

- if she’s at the back of the venue, usually at the bar or with security, fans taking photos and videos of her singing along to the music

- on tour with the boys, you’re their opening support act and you share a bunk with jb

- both nominated for awards so you both come hand in hand in matching outfits

- coming as her plus 1 for the grammys

- walking around the stadium before the show starts and fans coming up to meet the both of you

- julien standing behind the cameras when you have to do a photoshoot, making silly faces to make you laugh

- you being credited for vocal harmonies under some of juliens solo work, same for julien

- you’re more of a femme presenting with flowy dresses and skirts while julien is more masc presenting with jeans and suits. fans dubbed you as sun and moon

- stopping off in random cities / states on tour together and you make it a mission to go to every cafe to try out their iced coffee

[thetravellerssnotebook]

What Kinds of Songs the Bad Batch Would Listen To

Echo:

Classics/Oldies

-Really just any sort of swing/cafe music from the 30's-50's. He's such a sweet gentleman, so old-fashioned and romantic <3. I don't think he would like much of the new stuff. Secretly a sucker for slow dances in the living room with candles while it's raining...

Hunter:

Classic Country/Classic Rock

-I feel like Hunter is a sucker for all the Marty Robins, Lynyrd Skynyrd, etc. stuff. Just the classic things that all your parents know and love. They're calming. They help him relax and remind him of easier days. And he deserves it

Tech:

Alternative Pop

-Just hear me out. Most people's impression of him is probably classical music and black tea and fancy, intellectual things of that sort, but I honestly think he would enjoy the upbeat, electronic, modern works by people like AJR, ALT-J, Imagine Dragons, etc. It just feels like him. I can imagine him listening to 'Weak' while tinkering under the console in the Marauder

Wrecker:

Parodies/Remixes/Youtube crap/Disney cartoon songs

-Honestly this man's music taste is just all over the place. I can easily see him listening to some stupid parody of 'Never Gonna Give You Up' while eating chocolate pudding at 3AM

Crosshair:

Chill Beats/Lofi/Chill Hip-hop

-Most people probably think he'd listen to hard rock or something, but honestly, this man has some really intense stress hidden deep down in there, and these things just help him relax and let go. Definitely vibing with a headset in the middle of the night in his bunk

[unicyclehippo]

one word prompt: scheme

‘i have a scheme.’

‘no.’

‘alright, a plan.’

‘the word isn’t what i have a problem with. the whole concept is.’ orym glanced up from his book, fixed her with a knowing—and amused—look. ‘she’s a big girl. she can do this without us.’

fearne sighed. flopped dramatically into the sofa beside him, wriggling until her head was in his lap. she cleared her throat. he went back to reading. she cleared her throat, louder, and continued to do so until he said,

‘alright!’ orym put his book down and gave her his undivided attention, playing with her hair. ‘how did you get this so knotted up?’

fearne shrugged. she lay legs kicked over the arm of the couch, and drummed her heels against the side of it, frowning up at the ceiling.

‘are you sure—‘

‘yes. we aren’t going to spy on her.’

‘no,’ fearne said, sharply, ‘are you sure she’ll be alright?’

orym looked at his friend. fearne calloway was a legend of the silver screen for a reason; she was a creature drawn to drama, to delight, to playing pretend. there was no one like her. he truly believed that. there was no one in the world so capable of transformation as fearne. but he knew—and ought to have remembered—that transformation did not mean fraud and trickery didn’t mean carelessness. at her core, fearne was hungry. hungry for attention and pretty things, sure, but that was mild compared to her hunger for life, love, freedom. to someone else, that might have been scary, but orym had grown up with this girl—had pulled out sleeping bags so often they hardly ever got put away until his mother bought him bunk beds instead. she was his sister in everything but blood and he knew, he knew, that he belonged to fearne. and so did imogen. and gods help anyone who hurt her.

‘she’s gonna be fine,’ he said, making himself sound confident for fearne. he was confident—but then again, imogen had a brain that wasn’t always kind, and she was going on a date, which she had never really done before. ‘it might not go perfectly, but she’ll be fine.’

fearne nodded. her earrings jangled. her nails clicked as she tapped her steepled fingers. ‘i’m going to follow her,’ fearne announced. ‘you should come. if not to spy on imogen, at least to keep her from noticing me.’

orym groaned. ‘we promised!’

‘we promised we wouldn’t interfere. not that we wouldn’t turn up to watch.’ fearne rolled off the couch and strode for the door. ‘i’m going to need a disguise.’

‘no, you think?’

‘where’s your trench coat?’

‘it won’t fit.’

fearne looked at him like he was being very silly, and she would laugh if she had thought it was on purpose. instead, she rolled her eyes. ‘mine is in my bag.’ the obviously went unsaid but not unheard. ‘you should bring a gun.’

‘first, i don’t have a gun. second, we aren’t threatening her date with a gun or anything else. third—‘ orym crossed his arms and stood his ground. ‘i haven’t agreed to go.’

fearne tilted her head and smiled.

//

‘i can’t believe we’re doing this,’ orym grumbled from behind his newspaper, eyeholes cut out of it. ‘this is stupid.’

‘i didn’t ask you here to be a negative nancy.’

‘you didn’t ask me at all,’ orym hissed. ‘you threatened me.’

fearne fluttered her fingers as if to say, there you have it, that’s the end of the matter, and refocused on imogen on the other side of the cafe.

[freneticfloetry]

I has a banner! And also seven sentences exactly, once again full of angst — how fitting for a snowy Sunday.

Thanks to @heartstringsduet, @carlos-in-glasses, @strandnreyes, and @lemonlyman-dotcom for the tag love. 😘

His own grief had taken such a different shape. Maybe it’s because he’d known exactly who his mother had been for him, knew the way that she loved him in his bones. It’s an old ache now, dull and manageable most days and acute when the wind blows the wrong way — if he hears the notes of a certain song or sees a head of dark hair that falls with just the right wave, even catches his own reflection from a particular angle. He’d once been perfectly fine for more than a month, then scrolled past her perfume in an Instagram ad after a call at three in the morning. For years he’d given her the same bottle of Baccarat Rouge on her birthday, the one she’d worn every day of his life — after she’d taken him to Barneys or Bergdorfs and handed him a card so he could pay at the counter himself, only to let him watch her unwrap it later and feign her fawning surprise — and just the sight of the familiar box on the screen had left him in tears in his bunk for two hours. TK has a scar from the pain of losing a parent, the first love that he’d ever known. But Carlos has a wound, carved from grief and guilt, anger and questions, and a love he’d never quite known what to do with that now has nowhere to go.

Tagging in @liminalmemories21, @ambiguouspenny, @never-blooms, @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut, @reyesstrand, @walkinginland, @three-drink-amy, @bonheur-cafe, @ladytessa74, @welcometololaland, @orchidscript, @rmd-writes, and @alrightbuckaroo. No pressure!