#i need sleep i think im sounding delirious

[itsallmouthwashing]

Tulpar- Band Au playlist expansions (27-37)

Obligatory playlist here, and master list here (when I upload that)

Im still working on the meat of the story, I'm just very stuck on where to start :) anyways- song explanations! weee!

I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead (Set It Off)- Curly writes this after a particularly hard night of insomnia. In an almost manic state he scribbles out the vague concept, bangs on the drums in an attempt to keep time (he can't find the metronome that's on the shelf literally right above him. Just look a little to the up, Curly). In his sleepless state he thinks he’s the first pioneer to find gold. In the morning when he’s finally slept, he almost throws the mess of whatever alphabet he must have chosen last night away. 

Daisuke finds it crumpled on the floor the next day when they show up for practice and asks about it. Curly gets embarrassed and says it's nothing. He couldn't sleep last night and he was just delirious. (YES he’s drinking coffee as he says this). Dai insists they develop this and they do! It goes on their first official album

Black in Every Color (Happy Hour)- Another one of Curly and Jimmy’s early songs. Writing this was how Jimmy found out that Curly has amazing vocal range, and how Curly found out Jimmy could scream. Curly hadn’t really heard Jimmy’s vocals until then as Jim had let Curly do all the singing when they sat down to write and practice. Jimmy has perfect pitch, so he knows exactly how he wants his songs to sound like. Curly has great training, so he could almost always deliver

Drugs (cheridomingo)- Curly writes this one during Jimmy’s disappearance. It becomes part of the album they release during this time. He knows that Jimmy is getting into trouble, doing drugs and god know what else to go out with a bang. 

He can't stand knowing Jimmy may be dying in someone’s coked-out arms. If it has to happen this way, why can't it be with him?

Left Behind (Slipknot)- It’s in Jimmy’s journal. What ELSE can I say fellers. It does carry into Tulpar’s professional career though!

Kill Rock And Roll (System of A Down)- part of Tulapr’s first concept album before Anya and Dai joined. One of the first Jimmy and Curly ever wrote together. When they were tired of working on Ængus they would turn to this one and hop between a few others when inspiration withheld them. Jimmy really wants to do harmonies and they look great on paper, but when the two try and execute it for the first time, they both get confused and try to match the other’s pitch. It takes many tries for them to get the first part, and many many tries after to maintain it. By the time they graduate and greet Dai and Anya into the fold, it becomes part of their practice rounds. 

Sugar (System Of  A Down)- Jimmy writes this one Senior year of high school. When he presents it to the band they are………. Only a little concerned. Curly reassures them that Jimmy is harmless and what he writes he doesn't really mean (He fully means it, but as long as it’s written down then those impulses aren’t acted on. Most of the time. Sometimes. Usually. Guys just trust him--)

He does talk to his friend about kicking loved ones afterward, though. Just to be on the safe side. (Anya hates this song on bass, so her and Daisuke switch up)

Fuck the System (System of a Down)- In Jimmy’s notebook when he and Curly first start Tulpar. Its really hard for Curly to get the drums down when he’s learning so they table it for a while until Curly gets his skill up. When Dai and Anya are around (before they officially join), this song somehow comes up in conversation. (“It is SUCH basic syncopation, Curly- How do you not get this?”) Curly says he could never get the timing down. He playfully states it's because of Jimmy’s handwriting- Jim actually gets defensive about it (who saw this coming? I’m taking bets)- but when Dai takes a single look and rocks the drums no problem, Jimmy is forced to face the fact that they need a drummer that isn’t Curly. (“Hey, maybe Dai could do drums for us!” “You’re doing just fine, Curls.” “Jimmy, I don't like playing drums.” “WHAT?”)

Delusions of Saviour (Slayer)- No lyrics, but this is here because the band loves to use it as a warm-up. Dai works on keeping the beat, while Jimmy, Curly, and Anya warm up their fingers. Curly hums along to the tune, sometimes will do full vocal runs if they’re pushing for time. Jimmy likes to make up lyrics on the spot and mumble them while they’re warming up. [[This is the ONLY song on this playlist that remains the original artists- in this AU the bands still for sure exist, but those songs in particular are written and sung by Tulpar instead of that bad (Sorry, SOAD, your songs are my barbie’s now)]]

Still Waiting (Sum 41)- Another :) early song of Jimmy’s. He writes this around middle school as he slowly opens his eyes to the state of the world. Aaaaaand he channels his frustration over school getting suspended again. 

The Good Life (Three Days Grace)- Another one of Jimmy’s early songs. Him and his parents are living in the shittiest apartment known to man since they had to move on such short notice if they wanted Jimmy to stay on track. One day when it was another ‘fend-for-yourself’ dinner night, Jimmy decided not to bother in finding anything and wrote this song instead. It makes its debut as Tulpar’s song a little later into their concert career when they’re making profit on their music. Jimmy finally shares it, and Curly is surprised he’d share anything from the more personal sections of his journal, especially from that early on. Jimmy would never let Dai or Anya look at his journal even after they joined (but Curly got to look right away. hmm) and from that song forward he tried to be more open with his bandmates. (that quickly ends when dai accuses Jimmy of sleeping with his girlfriend because one song is a little too horny and describes the events of that night almost perfectly)

Last Resort (Papa Roach)- The last song Jimmy writes in his notebook before he disappears. It essentially becomes his suicide note and it’s what throws Curly into a panic. Curly can never bring himself to sing/rap/say the lyrics, when it comes time to perform it, Daisuke takes the lead on vocals. They’re simple enough to keep time with as he stays on drums and Curly has to focus hard on keeping the rights notes to keep himself from hearing Jimmy through Daisuke. 

[quixtrix]

i am very guilty of this but i have a counterpoint; they keep putting him in these goddamn anime girl esque poses and i dont know what else to call him

also i dont think most of us know what the buff term for a twink is. this isnt a joke btw i actually dont know what else to call him

with all due affection i am taking the word "twink" away from the Captain Laserhawk fandom until it can be used responsibly

[pedroshotwifey]

Christmas Countdown Day 23 - Food Coma

Sleepy

Pairing: Jack Daniels x afab!reader

Word count: 673

Tags/Warnings: smut, fluff, no use of y/n or description of reader other than having female anatomy, husband!jack, tooth-rotting fluff, unprotected PIV sex, sleepy sex, shared orgasms, bad puns, stuff im forgetting

Summary: You and Jack have sleepy sex after dinner

A/N: This is actually so cute y'all, like I kind of love it. I'm thinking that tmw's fic will be a threesome, so that will likely be more steamy lol. I love this tender dynamic tho

***

You giggle deliriously as Jack deposits you on your shared bed. 

“Jack, ‘m tired,” you complain non threateningly through your laughter. 

“Hmm, me too, sugar,” Jack chuckles. “Cooked a mighty fine dinner. Stuffed me to the damn brim.” He follows you down onto the bed after striping out of his jeans and shirt. 

He kisses you lightly, tickling your face and throat. Despite how groggy you feel after such a large meal, you can’t seem to pass up the chance to have your husband inside you again. 

You lay silently in contentment, a goofy smile adorning your features as you lift your hips slightly to help him wiggle your pants down your legs. 

He’s only satisfied once you’re as bare as he is, your cunt already glistening with need. 

“Just need my desert, babydoll,” Jack informs you as he dips down to cover your lips with his. You huff a laugh and roll your eyes as you make out lazily with him, your eyelids only half open. 

His fingers quickly find your soaked folds, and you moan into his mouth as he dips two fingers into your heat, and then brings them up to circle your clit. Your hips buck up, chasing the friction of his calloused fingers as your orgasm approaches before you know it. 

It sneaks up on you, and Jack can tell the second you begin to focus on getting to that point. He increases his speed and applies more pressure simultaneously. Your whines are caught in his mouth as he continues to devour you, his tongue slipping between your lips to explore. 

You slide one of your hands to his ass, and the other to grasp his hair, squeezing both places as you come. Jack groans into you as you knead the globe of his ass. 

“Tha’s it, darlin,” he says, pulling away from your mouth. A string of spit connects the two of you, but neither of you have the energy to care. “Doin’ so good. Gonna let me fill this little cunt up?” 

You slowly nod at him, your eyes closed completely at this point. Jack smiles and places a gentle kiss on your forehead before notching himself at your entrance. 

He glides in easily thanks to your previous orgasm, and you both moan as he bottoms out almost immediately. 

“‘S good, Jack,” you slur, your hands finding each other on his back to hold together. 

“S’ do you, sugar,” Jack makes a point to tell you as he begins to pump in and out of you. He groans and lowers himself down so that he can rest his head next to yours, closing his eyes and focusing purely on the tight heat of your cunt around his cock. 

Both of your movements are sloppy and slow, but neither of you mind. You’re too weighed down by the feast you had both endured for dinner, sex and sleep being the only things on your schedule for the foreseeable future. 

You listen to the sound of Jack’s stuttered breathing and the squelch your cunt makes with every lazy thrust.

The two of you reach the edge at the same time, quicker than usual. Jack brings a hand to your clit again, making gentle passes. 

You both climax at the same time, moans spilling from your mouths and into each other’s ears. Everything feels euphoric in the way that it’s like a dream, your body floating and the scenery around you fading away. 

Jack’s spend christens your walls as he finishes before he pushes it out with his last few thrusts. 

Neither of you say a word when you’re done, both of you half asleep anyway. Jack just pulls out of you, walks the few steps to the bathroom, and comes back with a cloth to clean you up with. 

Once he’s done, he simply tosses the cloth onto the floor and climbs back into the bed behind you, placing another kiss on your head before tucking you to his warm body. 

You’re both asleep before another minute passes.

***

Thank you for reading! Please consider interacting if you enjoyed it <3

WCC: @amyispxnk @melaninmommy @brittmb115 @mandoalorian @yorksgirl

Link to prompt list

[circus4apsycho8]

hey hey! i was wondering if i could maybe get a kai x reader oneshot where the reader is sick.

nothing serious or anything like that, just a cold that makes them slightly delirious and cling onto kai more than they usually do (aka they don't normally do it at all lol)

no pressure if you can't/don't want to do this, btw, i just thought it'd be cute tbh /gen /npa dw

𝚊/𝚗: 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘! 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚎 :) 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢!

clingy. | kai x reader

You tried to drag yourself out of bed. You really did, considering how much you hate skipping training. 

But today is different – the lopsided pressure in your head is making you dizzy when you try to stand. You’re able to lay back down before you lose your balance. 

Stars, your head is throbbing. Combined with your stuffy nose, sore throat...yeah. Absolutely icky. 

It takes a matter of seconds for you to give up any hope of getting up. Suddenly met with a cold chill, you pull your blanket closer to your chin. 

For a few minutes, you simply lay there, not wanting to move. You’re too achy to even think about standing. 

To no avail, you try to go back to sleep. But you just can’t. For a few minutes, you find yourself tossing and turning until a knock sounds at your door. 

“Huh?” you grunt, throat too sore for you to speak anything coherently. 

“Babe?”

Relief courses through you as Kai steps through, his warm eyes already darting across your bedridden figure. It doesn’t take him long to put the pieces together. 

He sits beside you, one of his hands coming to your cheek. “Oh no...you caught whatever funk Jay brought back, didn’t you?” 

You nod, pointing to your throat. 

“Your throat hurts? Damn. I’ll see if Sensei can make some of his sick tea. Here,” he trails off so he can unhook your phone from its charger, handing it over to you. “Text me until your throat feels better. Just tell me if you want anything to eat or anything, okay? I’ll be right back.” 

Thank the stars for this boy. You don’t know what you’d do without him. 

You immediately open your messaging app, thumbs zipping across the keyboard: 

You: can i pls have some medicine too 

You: i feel like i got hit by a truck 

Kai: u got it gorgeous 

Kai: sensei making tea rn, im bringing u medicine for now 

You: thank you sm 

Glad that he’s returning, you shut your phone off and set it on your chest as you close your eyes. 

Soon enough, Kai returns, bottle of water and medicine in hand along with his laptop cradled in his other arm. He sets it at the foot of the bed so that he can crack the bottle open. 

“Okay, can you sit up for me?” he questions, once again having a seat at the edge of your bed. 

You nod, shifting until you’re upright. Kai patiently waits for you to get comfortable, gently dumping two pills into your hands before giving you the bottle of water. “I know your throat hurts, but this will help lighten the nastiness up a little bit.” 

You down the pills with a gulp of water, cringing at the feeling of the pills sliding down your sore throat. 

“I know it hurts, babe, but it’ll help. Make sure you keep drinking water, too. You need to stay hydrated.” 

You nod, sighing through your stuffy nose. Kai climbs into bed next to you, reaching for the laptop. You open your phone again. 

You: don’t get close! I don’t want you to get sick too

Rather than sending it to him, you just turn the screen towards him so that he can read it. 

“Nah, I’m staying,” he replies. “I know it sucks to be alone when you’re sick. Besides, we haven’t had a whole lot of time together lately anyway. Let’s watch something, yeah?” 

You nod, understanding by the tone of his voice that his mind won’t be changed. 

“Great. So, what do you want to watch?” 

You type your answer out, followed by: 

But you get to pick the next one!! 

“Fine,” he replies with a chuckle. “Let me go check your tea first, though!” 

A hint of a smile appears on your lips as you watch him leave. How did you end up so lucky? 

While you wait for your boyfriend to return, you take another sip of water. The pain in your throat screeches in retaliation, though. Yeah, you should probably wait for the tea. Sensei Wu’s special tea always managed to help a little bit. 

Kai returns a few minutes later, your cup of tea in hand. He settles in next to you, handing you the mug. 

You sigh gratefully, taking a sip. The hot water does wonders to soothe your throat. 

“That’s better,” you mumble, leaning your head on Kai’s shoulder. “Thank you.” 

“Anything for you,” he replies, shooting you his adorably dumb smile. You can’t help but smile too, watching as he sets up the show and leans back. 

For a while, you simply lean against him, content that he’s staying with you for the time being. The warmth radiating from him wards the chilliness away, allowing you to flutter in and out of sleep as you rest. 

After your show ends, you feel Kai stirring from his spot beside you. You turn to him, watching as he starts to untangle himself from the sheets. 

You find yourself upset that he’s leaving, setting your mug to the side as you latch onto his arm. 

“Babe,” he coos, chuckling as he glances back down at you with those gorgeous amber eyes. “I’ll be right back, don’t worry.” 

“But I want you to stay...” you mumble shyly, not letting go. 

“It’ll be super quick. I’m just going to go grab a snack. And I can refill your mug, too!” 

You sigh, releasing his arm slightly. “Okay...thank you.” 

Kai presses a kiss to your forehead before climbing out of bed, a rush of cold air replacing his warmth. You reach over to your laptop so you can pause the video before laying your head back on your pillow. 

A few minutes pass, and you find yourself missing Kai. Why are you feeling so clingy today? Normally, you’re not like this, but for some reason, you just want to hide with him until you feel better. 

You grab your phone, sending him another text: 

kaiiiiiii 

where'd you go?? 

:( 

To your dismay, Kai doesn’t answer for a few minutes. Stars, why are you feeling so sensitive today? Is it just because being sick makes you feel vulnerable? 

Thankfully, Kai responds shortly after: 

im otw, sorry...got caught up talking to sensei 

He returns a few seconds later, now with snacks and a refilled mug of tea. “Sorry, Sensei was asking me a few questions. He’s letting me take the day off so I can take care of you.” 

“Good,” you croak, shifting around as he settles back in beside you. “I just...need you right now.” 

Kai smiles softly, pulling you against his chest as the two of you lean back. “You know...I hate that you’re sick, but at the same time...I kind of like this side of you.” 

“I don’t, but I can’t help it. When I get better, it’s straight back to the ass kicking. Yours included.” 

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Kai jokes. 

You sigh, too tired to return the banter. “Thank you for staying, Kai.” 

“Anything for you, babe. Get some rest.” 

With that, your eyelids grow heavy as you snuggle up to him, eventually letting yourself sleep for the day. 

𝚊/𝚗: 𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚓𝚊𝚐𝚘 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗. 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘!

[the-s1lly-corner]

Hey man, its me again~

(If i may overwhelm you or anything just say so, i sometimes dont understand the limits of being too annoying)

So. Hehm. I got covid. And. I was sick for a few weeks but then yesterday it became very, very bad(i presume because of stress and overexaustion, as well as due to not taking care of myself properly..) to the point of not being able to hold a bottle. I felt kinda horrible, but until night that was only the start. I could only lay in bed, overheated, and ended up falling asleep midday and having hallucinations/nightmares at night. I woke up in tears after a supposedly silly goofy dream(caine×kinger (i just knew they were a couple) arguing, well, more like kinger being very, very mad for some reason and caine looking at him with his pathetic sad eyes while trying to argue back/explain himself. Also there was zooble looking all smug at The Camera like in Office in a way only an asshole weedsmoker would do, all relaxed. Oh also it was a Zombie Apocalypse au and kinger just had a big booty for no reason) and hyperventilating, it was horrifying for some reason(maybe because i love the guys... royalteeth<3). I was Very Delirious.(i am a bit better after finally being taken seriously and given medication after

Anyway i said all this only for you to know about the dream, i liked it very much in the end, yummy angst.

So i was wondering, maaay i please req a worried itward trying to force sick!reader to go to bed but they bluntly refuse because "I have WORK to do and people to TAKE CARE of! I don't care, am just.. a little under the weather, yes, but its nothing a warm tea later wont fix. So i need to- no, i am perfecty capeable-" <- said before falling over a coffe table half dressed, almost landing on Mr. Midnights fluffy butt. When they finally give in they're kinda clingy and a bit whiny("..do you still love me?"; *stumbles out of the room to get to itward who decided to get them some tea, scaring him shitless in the process* "can we hold hands? Please")

(The dream and other info has nothing to really do with the request and has no purpose but to tell you abt the silly scenario, you can just disregard it. Anyway i'm going to sleep good noight!!♡♡♡)

Itward x sick!stubborn!Reader!

IM SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LOKG TO GET TO THIS SOBS

That said I hope youre feeling better man :( sickness sucks!! I hate sickness!! Beats up the sickness!!!

Also I know I already said this when you checked your request status, but you're not overwhelming me or annoying me!! Get down with the silliness!!

Also look at this goofball, how he almost falls

Loser

(Gently holds)

I think that he would treat most sicknesses on the same level of seriousness; like sure he wouldn't panic if you had a simple fever or cold.. but he's going to be firm on you not overworking yourself

In fact its likely that he will bar you from chores and work for at least an entire day after all your symptoms die down

Very quickly notices that something is wrong with you. I mean itward looks over a bunch of kids and kids get sick all the time, so I think he can see the signs even before you're fully ill

Asks you if anything is wrong and offers to do some of your chores around the ship (and that's assuming he even assigned you any) as well as offer to run the errands you needed to do that day

Gentle but firm when talking to you and trying to keep you in bed

Like gently pushing you back into bed and covering you up in a blanket or two

"Yes yes, I know dear that you've got work to do... but please, I need you to rest... can you do that for me?" And other similar pleas

Hes making you soup when you wobble in and ask if hes mad at you; because his tone sounded a little stressed when he last talked to you

He cant even answer before you face plant onto the floor of the ship...

Immediately rushes to your side; which likely only takes about two steps for him thanks to his long legs.. scoops you up and just

In this gentle quiet voice reassures you that hes not angry. A little stressed out for you, but not angry

Key words, "for you", not "by you"

I would say for comic value he would tie you to bed, but I feel even itward wouldnt go down to those extremes (and this man can get a little silly. I mean he literally locked Fran in a room so he could make her a surprise birthday party. Itward can get a little intense, I think)

No instead I think he would just stick by your side to ensure you're actually resting

One of admin favorite tropes; character b is sick/very tired and in bed, character a who just put them to bed goes to leave only for b to grab their sleeve/hand/arm/whatever to stop them and just. "Plesse stay"

That happens with you two, I think

And most likely, if itward doesn't have anything super time sensitive or important to do, he will stay with you

Besides, hes a skeleton from another reality. What are the chances that a human sickness can spread to him?

Well that's assuming it's a sickness from the third reality and/or one that cant jump species

But shhh

Itward pretty much becomes a mother hen and tries to prevent you from doing anything that may make your symptoms worse.. as well as caring for you via making you food, keeping you hydrated, and even carryout you around if your legs are too weak to support you

[beautifulpersonpeach]

HOBI IS WORKING WITH JCOLE I REPEAT HOBI IS WORKING WITH JCOLE AHHHHH

Our boys are really industry heavyweights at this point, aren’t they BPP???? They really just out here casually collabing with their favorite artists growing up like Hobi just dropped the news that he collabed with The J.Cole the day before his single drops 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 Am I wrong to think that they really earned these artists respect for them to even think to collab with them????Like I doubt J.Cole needs Hobi/BTS clout lmao and even Erykah Badu came out to do a song with Namjoon and I’m convinced Chris Martin is in love with Jin atp lmao like atp I’m convinced that RIHANNA X RAPLINE OR BEYONCE X JIMIN ISNT A FARFETCHED DREAM OF US DELULUS LIKE ITS NOT AN IMPOSSIBILITY BUT A REAL POSSIBILTY NOW

IM SO PROUD AND I LOVE THIS FOR THEM YOU GO BOYS

*

Ask 2: OMG I LOVE THAT TEASER MELODY!!!!!!! I think Imma love that song!! I'm so excited (and sad. AND WITH JCOLE HIS INSPIRATION OMMMMGGGGG I'm so happy. I'm SO giddy. lol I'm really glad to have this music. I needed them cuz I'm doing a competition on release day. I was feeling anxious. If it's going to be blue side esque, I'll just listen to this nonstop to calm myself down. Also Jimin Tiffany?? He looks fantastic. I hope there's ads, I'll go to the shops just to see him (I HATE both usually lol)

*

Ask 3: BPPPPPPPPP I'M CRYING THIS SONG IS EVERYTHING EVERYTTHING I LOVE HIM WITH ALL MY HEART

*

Ask 4: Jermaine Lamarr Cole respects Jung Hoseok and made a song with him fuck I'm gone. Bpp, how you feeling?

**

Hi Anon(s),

I don't even know where to begin.

I just wrote possibly what is my most effusively adoring Jimin post and maybe it's also the lack of sleep making me slightly delirious but I nearly burst into tears just now trying to reply to you talking about Hobi. Because y'all, my emotions are completely fried right now. Hobi has completely wrecked and destabilized me with On The Street. Part of the reason I'm here is because of how happy I feel, and it is 100% the result of his music, that song in particular, and what it confirms to me for the umpeenth time about who Hoseok is.

Y'all, I'm so happy for him. Like I'm sitting on my couch, wig off, feet up, running my hands down my face every two seconds through my hair clutching my fro to ground myself while On The Street plays on surround sound.

Everything about On The Street is perfect. I'll write an actual review once I've calmed down but Jesus it's so fucking good.

J Cole is an artist notorious for pulling no punches and being real with the music he makes and who he makes it with. Like Jermaine is one of a handful of rappers that Kendrick gives full cred to. I've been fighting the urge to scream since this song dropped like y'all have no idea how incredible, how legendary this collaboration is precisely because of the sort of artist both J Cole and J-hope are, and I can only imagine how Hobi feels right now.

All the guys are meeting their heroes and rather than it being an unpleasant experience, they've all developed so much as artists already that their first collaborations with their heroes is mutually satisfying and underpinned by mutual respect.

Everything about this song is so beautiful and I hope you're able to enjoy listening to it very often.

[caz-is-gay]

so. currently actually sobbing bc i made the horrible decision to look through techno’s channel. i saw the gravity mod vid he posted after the announcement that he had cancer. i remember being so happy. sbi content! god. i still haven’t watched the video. yknow the one. a year ago i tried to watch squids video on part of the potato war. i didnt get 3 mins in b4 i heard his voice (he was celebrating!! he was happy!) and started crying. maybe in a decade ill be able to watch it and smile. and ill be able to watch the new one, and old ones and laugh like i used to. i looked through the community posts. he really loved birds, didnt he? i feel so bad for his dad.

june 2022. worst month of my life i think. everything happened at once. on june 1st lizzy was over. i was so desperately in love with her. still in denial about the inevitable friend zone. we went to zydecos grad party! she left halfway through to call her ex. they got back together. the facade was broken. obviously she didn’t like me back and anything romantic with her is a pipe dream. (i mean who would ever love to be attracted to an ugly fat pig like me?) so lizzy is over. im trying to ignore the heartbreak. then i hear the news. techno died. my sister hears it from a friend and tells me. the ppl we have over dont get it. they dont get why it hits me so hard, and god i dont want to explain it. so i pretend im fine. keep hosting, keep being nice. every second is agony! i cry myself to sleep. that had stopped a few months ago. i wasnt suicidal anymore but god. 2 weeks later im starting to back to *normal* levels of summer break depression. my dad finds out. he loved techno. im gone again. my mom fonds out, she doesn’t know who he is., doesn’t know the other 3 ppl at the table have already been grieving. shes lost so many to cancer. “did you hear about that minecraft youtuber who died of cancer? he was only 23, its so sad” i didnt know what to say. “yes i watched him everyday for 4 years his videos were the only thing that could get me to sleep when i started having suicidal thoughts if not for him i wouldn’t be here and now he dead.” yeah.

i still didn’t get over lizzy for months. fantasizing about a life with her was my escape. it was unrealistic and i couldn’t think about her like that anymore. then my dad brought covid home from work. june 23rd, my mom almost dies. thats the worst day of my life. it was mcc day. i was watching it on my tv, because my dad went to see his parents and mom was sick. she had been in bed for days. she got sick a lot. she had bronchitis for 10 years at this point. i was taking care of her. she was obviously delirious. asking me to pour water on her because she was so hot. i didnt know what to do. i waited for so long. i couldn’t deal with this right now i needed to de stress not have more. it got too much, i called my dad and he said she must have high blood sugar. fuck. i looked at her insulin log, nothing written for 2 days. fuck fuck fuck. he told me, if she cant draw her own blood for a reading, call 911. so we did. she could have died. if i waited any longer she could have passed out and stopped breathing. she went to the hospital. medically induced coma, intubated. she had told us many times shed rather die than be on a ventilator. none of us mentioned it. she was in a coma for 2 weeks. woke up, had to be in vent for longer. she was finally extubated. she couldn’t talk but she managed to be sarcastic still. i had to hold back tears. best day of my life.

that month changed the course of my life forever. my disability was most likely caused by the mild covid infection i got b4 my mom got sick. my mom doesn’t have a fungal lung infection anymore. my parents are sleeping in the same room again, and going to therapy. my mom has a cgm and a cpap and is on top of her health.

i cant stand the sounds of artificial breathing after sitting next to her for so long. im more afraid of my future than ever. im still getting over my best friend (fuck being demiromantic man) and i am still crying over technoblade.

[grimsneverendingfuneral]

Grim, hi! I’ve missed you! I’ve been busy with some sucky real life stuff, but I promise I have not forgotten about you!

I shattered my left wrist which is already annoying as is, but it happened HOURS after I got my cast off on my right arm which was broken. It’s just so annoying ugh. Like, I’m fine of course, just so annoying. Seriously it’s only the kind of luck I could have.

Anyways! You know what time it is, obviously. What was your favourite song this week? Do you wear glasses? And a Rosekiller relation question for ya, what are some of their quirks/bad habits? (e.g.: biting nails, picking at skin, etc. etc. you get the idea) 🎤

OH MY GOOODDDDDDDD MIC ANON !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

fuck i was so happy to get this message in my inbox but as i read it my face kinda fell. fuckin hell its been a rough couple of weeks for you. what the hell man. oooohhh i wish i could draw doodles on your cast and tuck you in and give your forehead a kiss. that is an substantial amount of bad luck, for sure, but the way you're going about it says a lot about who you are as a person, which is probably super brave and resilient. i remember when i broke my foot how absolutely simultaneously depressed and delirious i was cause its just so absurd in a way. you find ways to live your life differently, its a whole experience, yknow, living with a cast on or not being able to use one of your limbs. im glad youre okay though but be gentle with yourself cause it does affect our mental health more than we think. give yourself that time to just heal and try not to get too frustrated with yourself. you need time and rest

i hope you're well surrounded or at least i hope you have some support, and im here if you wanna chat. also, im genuinely so shocked and flattered and a little emotional that you would still send me an ask when you just shattered your wrist???? wow. fuck im giving you smooches on the arm. im making you soup im getting things from high places you cant reach im fussing over you like a motherly figure

also im kinda curious (you dont have to answer) but how did this happen?

ok questions. yes. my favourite song this week was this black metal song (im in my winterly black metal phase. happens every january or so) called I Am The Black Wizards by Emperor. its just.... crazy orchestral folkloric screeching overlapping rumbling drums and insane distorted guitars. i just listened to it on repeat while writing and it really inspired the madness in this chapter i just finished. also love listening to it in public with a straight face

i do not wear glasses, no! i have a pair of blue light glasses though that i wear when i write cause im on the computer a lot and i look super sexy in them. i was blessed with very good vision for some reason

and rosekiller quirks!! huh. theres probably a lot. for sure barty vocally stims a lot. i picture him as the guy at the back of the class who makes like annoying ass popping sounds with his mouth or will screech for no reason. he's gotta be humming or inventing new noises at all times. and the thing is about that is that his friends usually like catch onto those noises and will begin to make them as well and it becomes this thing like. his noises make sense and they feel good to make once you start mimicking them. i think he also has an excellent long term memory to the point its scary but his short term memory is fucking ass. like you HAVE to text him to remind him of things or he'll forget. he puts a mug somewhere? forgets it for weeks. has no object permanence so when hes been on his phone for too long he just hides it in a cupboard and completely forgets about it. he's also messy but not dirty. like theres socks everywhere but he scrubs his bathroom for three hours with Pinesol. i could go on and on and on

evan's bad habits are more mental than physical but for some reason i feel like his waking self is completely different from his sleeping self. waking self is very aware of his body language, his posture, the way his face moves, but sleeping him is kicking at your calves, thrashing around, sheets twisted around his legs, his hand finds itself directly in your face and he definitely sleeps in that position where youre on your belly and your leg is up yknow. i think evan is also prone to sighing a lot. he sighs so much and he doesnt notice and its like are you fucking okay?? can you stop sighing like youre a poor victorian woman withering away from broken heart? lastly i think evan does pick at his lip skin but only in private. he doesnt really do stuff in front of others like that. but he will pick it until it feels smooth and its bleeding in three places but at least it feels smooth (i do this)

thank you so much for keeping me updated on your life mic anon i feel very honoured. hope you have a good recovery

[yesitsmewhataboutit]

Can You Say Triplets?

Tom Holland x Reader

Anyone who says Tom and the twins don’t look alike are liars… sometimes even you can’t tell them apart if you’re not looking directly at their face

»»——⍟——««A/n: STAWP IM SCREAMING AND CRYING I finished this a few days ago but didn’t outline it and I just came to and was about to copy and paste to proofread and I look and the ending didn’t save for some reason😃😃and I do t remember exactly how I did it so now this ending is garbage and I’m sad cuz this whole fic is ruined and not at all how I wanted it. Idk why I’m even posting it

Masterlist

̶̶̶̶ ̶«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶̶ ̶«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ Requests open　 ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶̶ ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶

Going golfing with his brothers is something Tom loves. He does it for fun, plus when he needs to relax and de-stress a bit. You know the usual routine. They go out around 1 o’clock, golf for a while and horse around, then go get food and drinks on the way home. Tom always picked you up food too which you loved.

Today is no different. You wake up to light kisses on your shoulder from Tom, his arms around you, and when you turn around, his sweet tired face as he looks at you through tired eyes. You have your time in bed, and he heads out with Harrison and Harry. So it’s just you for the day, everyone else was also doing their own stuff.

It’s a normal day, you make some food, lounge around a bit, and watch some tv. Inevitably, you end up where you always do; in your bed watching a show. It’s only around 8 o’clock, but you can feel your eyes getting heavier. You know it’s too early to fall asleep, but that doesn’t stop your body from still pulling, and as always, you lose the fight.

The boys get in around 11 o’clock, you wake up around 1 am. The tv is still on, and the bed is cold, but you can tell the boys are home. Tired and delirious, you push yourself from bed to try to go find your London boy. The house is quiet and dark, aside from the little light coming from Harrison’s room, if you listen you could hear quiet sounds, but what catches your eye when you exit your room is the lump on the couch. It wouldn’t be the first time Tom sat down to take his shoes off but ended up collapsing from a mixture of drowsy and drinks.

You shuffle over to the couch, not having the energy it’d take to get him to wake up and move, instead deciding to join him. A soft smile spreads your lips as you get closer and you can make out the messy curls that lay all over his head.

You rub your eyes and melt onto the couch, laying practically on top of him cause of its size. “Welcome back, Tommy,” you say in a quiet slur of your words, reaching up and giving him a quick peck on his lips before snuggling in, feeling his arms curl around you. You drift to sleep almost immediately, but not before you hear a grunt of response come from him, and soon after, you fall asleep.

It’s not the best sleep you’ve ever gotten, you’ve slept on the couch before, but you chalk the low-quality sleep up to the weird position you were laid. “Y/n.” The warm body you’re next to helps, making you stay in a state between conscious and unconscious. “Y/n.”

“Hm?” You shuffle around, hearing a voice calling you but not really caring, wanting to go back to sleep, already feeling it too early to be awake.

“Y/n.” The voice says again, trying its best to nag you awake.

“What,” you drag and whine, trying to adjust into and more comfortable position.

“What are you doing?”

You sigh, giving up hope of going to sleep at the moment. “What do you mean?”

You adjust again, moving your hand around, it being rested on his stomach under his shirt, where you can usually feel his abs, but you can’t at the moment, you don’t think much of it. What makes your mind skip and backtrack, is the smell.

You smell alcohol on him, which isn’t unusual since of course he just went drinking, but the specific smell doesn’t add up. You smell a strong bitter alcohol, which is something Harry would drink, not Tom, he likes fruitier drinks usually, unless something is wrong, which you would’ve known. So why would he be drinking like Harry?

You hear the voice that you still haven’t stopped to comprehend who it is say something again, but you don’t fully hear as you open your eyes to look up at Tom. Only, it’s not Tom, it’s Harry.

“Oh my god!” You yell startled, your eyes going wide and your body automatically flitching back, immediately putting you on the floor, making you hit your head with a grunt. “Ow.”

You go to sit up, putting a hand to your head as you look around. You now realize you’re between a just awoken and confused Harry, and a Samantha, Harry’s girlfriend. You look toward the door, seeing Tom just as he enters from the hallway, a smug smirk going over his features as he sees the scene in front of him, already figuring out what happened.

"Ya alright there, love?" he asks as he walks over to you.

"I did it again," you say in a defeated tone.

"Yeah, yeah, it's alright," he says with a hint of a laugh.

"Sorry, Harry," you say as you take Tom's hand, and he helps you up, putting his arm around your waist and walking toward your bedroom.

"If this makes this any better, I honestly thought she was you too."

Masterlist

Ahem: @mcushvft @lnmp89 @laylasbunbunny @tomhollandfics

[prettyboykatsuki]

sfw | eren yeager thinks you’re too naive 

or maybe he just thinks you’re cute and calling you naive and clueless is his way of coping. either way, he knows you’re sleepy because your head keeps hitting the table. you’ve been studying for your mid-term for days now and he can’t really seem to stop you. 

and he doesn’t try, he knows you take it seriously, so he takes to sitting with you in the library instead. armin is there too but he leaves at 11 to go hang out with his roomate so it leaves you with eren, in his devices. you don’t really do anything other than study, taking 10 minute breaks between long stretches. when you do take a break, you almost immediately scroll tiktok and show him them with excitement. the timer goes off and suddenly you’re back at it. 

eren doesn’t have as much to do, so he normally gets done two hours before you do. and it’s late now, almost 1am, and the two of you are still in the 24hr library because you’re determined to finish as much as you can. he finds it admirable but looking at you is exhausting. your eyes are closing and your mouth is borderline drooling on your books. he’s had to stop your head from slamming onto the desk more than once. 

“you’re gonna hurt yourself,” he tsks, catching your head again before it hits the table. you don’t bother getting up, resting your chin his palm and blinking at him.

eren yeager is miserably in love. 

“eren,” you whine, tired, pressing your cheek into his palm “eren, im tired,” 

“no shit,” 

“don’t be mean,” you pout, and eren sighs, and he knows - if it were anyone else, he’d probably tell them to shut up but with you.. with you eren sighs. pauses. 

“sorry. but you need to go to bed, seriously. your grade isn’t gonna improve if your sleep is this fucked,” 

you’re exhausted and a little delirious and you’re not thinking twice. your defenses are low, extra low because you’re with eren and you’d probably let him take you anywhere even with your eyes closed. you frown a little. 

“but.. if i leave to sleep in my dorm i’ll be by myself... i’ll miss you,’

you add the last part quietly, and your eyes are closing again. you’re going to fall asleep in the palm of his hands after just saying something like that. so painfully sounding like a confession. the world could be ending outside and he wouldn’t know. he can’t hear a thing other than your voice ringing in his ear like an alarm. 

“you’ll miss me?” 

“yeah, dummy. so.. gotta keep..studying,” 

“you’re so..sit up. we’re leaving,” 

“but..” 

he looks at you stern, and you comply, yawning. he packs your things up and lets you hop on his back with a deep sigh.

__ 

you don’t remember much the next morning, when you wake up. you open your eyes and stare the ceiling for a few minutes as you regain your consciousness. it takes a minute, more than your comfortable with, to register what’s happening. something warm.. or someone warm is laid up beside you. 

you open your eyes and it’s eren. and your heart is in your throat - so close to each other you could just lean over and kiss him. he’s beautiful, hair tied loosely back and lashes long on his cheeks. he’s tan from playing soccer. and he’s got his arm around you, holding you to his chest so all you can do is look up 

the events of yesterday comeback to you slowly and you can’t help but wince. almost immediately you try to scoot back, move away from him. everything about him is too overwhelming for you handle. but his arms tighten, and his eyes blink open - green. he looks at you. 

“where do you think you’re going?” 

“i was just -” 

“wrong. the answer is nowhere. you kept me awake last night anyways,” 

“you’re so annoying,” is all you can say, all you can manage. but you keep trying to move anyway.

“are you deaf?” 

you fluster, because he gets closer. too close. and you know your roomate isn’t in but part of you wishes they would come through the door. 

“you’re too close,’ 

“i can get closer,” 

you stare at him and he leans forward and kisses you. your whole body goes into shock but he doesn’t stop until you relax, with your hands on your chest. and you kiss him until your eyes go wide. he pulls back, just a little. 

“your confession sucked by the way,” 

“im gonna throw you out,” you whine, face buried in his neck. he laughs a little. 

“no you’re not,” 

“..no im not,” 

you’re definitely too naive. too damn clueless. but it’s fine. he’ll figure it out. 

[shurisneakers]

if you're taking ideas for harmless drabbles, i'd love to see one of bucky on one of those dates he mentioned and reader's shenanigans. if you aren't, feel free to ignore this!

a/n: are we really going to let a word limit define what a drabble is? is the vibe and spirit not enough? i say this bc this is 5.7k words long im so sorry. also hey thank you to everyone who piped in with their knowledge of violent geese and how apartment security works in new york!! also thanks to my bby @spiderrpcrker for reading this and telling me to publish this bc i wasnt going to fkjghfkj

warning: swearing, bad luck, dates, frustrated bucky, anxiety, mentions of gore but like only a sentence

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Catch up with the rest of the series here: Harmless Masterlist

Bucky returns only two weeks later. His mission lasted longer than expected and all he wants is to lie down and sleep for forty eight hours straight.

“FRIDAY?” he mumbles, kicking off his shoes. His jacket had already been discarded by his bedroom door when he walked in.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

“How are ya?” He doesn’t miss a beat in asking, even though he’s exhausted.

“As good as ever. Did you have a successful mission?”

“If by successful you mean one sprained limb instead of two, then yeah.” He wasn’t really cribbing. His ankle was already starting to heal anyway and it was worth the roundhouse kick to a Nazi's face. “Do I have anything scheduled for this weekend?”

“You have a meeting on your calendar scheduled for this Saturday.”

“Could you send a text to Y/N and ask if we can push it to the next day?” His muscles feel sore and God, he could definitely use a hot shower but all of that becomes secondary the minute he feels the sheets under him.

“Would you like me to reschedule the other one as well?”

“What’s that?” He opens one eye in confusion. “There’s another one?”

“It’s on Sunday. You’ve labelled it ‘date’.”

Ah, fuck.

“Would you like me to change it?” FRIDAY never sounds like she’s judging him, which is nice. It also reminds him about how she, as an AI, can’t judge him, which is a rude wake-up call to how he doesn’t have friends.

“No,” his voice is muffled against the pillow, “no, let it be. Where is it again?”

“You’ve only specified diner, Sergeant Barnes.”

Public space, daytime, plenty of escape routes. Good on his less delirious self for selecting a diner.

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” Now that he’s a little more relaxed, he can feel himself slip in and out of consciousness.

“One last thing," her automated voice commands his attention again. "Y/N replied. She says sure and to take care.”

“Yay.” Not even a second later he’s out like a light.

____

“Did you bring me any souvenirs?” Is the first thing he hears as he marches into your lair.

“What could I possibly get you?”

“A postcard, a t-shirt.” You don’t look up from your tinkering.

“Decapitated finger, used bullets,” he continues, “cement blocks.”

“Ew.” You snap the lid shut on the thing you’re working on, spinning around on your chair. "That's not nearly romantic enough."

“That’s all you’re going to get from a Russian underground bunker.” He does a mini jog up the stairs of the platform to where you are.

“Does the finger have a ring at lea- oh hello?” You raise an eyebrow at the sight of him. “You look different.”

He peers down. The outfit was still all black. As always.

“Not your clothes, dummy,” you interrupt, making him look back at you. “Your face. What’d you do?”

He unconsciously raises a hand to his cheek.

“Did you wash your face? Is that it?” you squint at him. “Has it been a few months since the last time?”

“Wow, you’re so funny,” he drawls sarcastically.  “Top tier comedian right there.”

“No wait, it’s the beard.” You snap your fingers in realisation, completely ignoring his comment. “You trimmed it.”

“So what if I did?” He leans on your table.

“You going somewhere?” you ask, elastic snapping against your hands as you remove your gloves.

“It’s none of your busi-”

“Hold on a second.” A sly smile begins to make its way onto your face. “Are you going on a date, Bucky Barnes?”

His comeback dies down in his throat. That didn’t take you very long for you to figure out.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You look smug, to say the least.

“Shut up.” A ray of light glistening distracts him. He traces it to the thing you were working on earlier.

“Where are you guys going?” You cross your arm across your chest, a small smirk on your face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” It’s a silver box, engraved intricately with swirls that, when he observes carefully, looks like a skull. Wow, terrifying.

“I’m literally asking you.”

“What are those?” He shifts the conversation towards a more productive angle instead.

“Evil in a box and some other stuff.” You shrug offhandedly. “Is it a lunch date or just coffee?”

“Like Pandora’s Box?”

“A discount version, sure,” you confirmed impatiently. “Stop changing the topic, listen to me.”

He tilts his head, waiting for you to continue.

“Do you need a chaperone?” The sincerity in your voice for such a bullshit question has him scoffing.

“Good God- no, I do not need a chaperone. I’m 106 years old, I can go out unsupervised.” He reaches over and plucks the box off your table.

“Sir, you’re a geriatric."

“What are those?” He points to a few ray odd ray guns.

“Minor stuff you don’t have to worry about right now.”

He shakes the box in his hand. “What’s gonna happen if I open this?”

“Very bad things,” you whispered ominously before your volume returns to normal. “How’d you meet this person? Online?”

“She’s Natasha’s friend.” He turns the box over, seeing a small latch at the side. “What bad things?”

“Bad luck and misery. Don’t play with it, it’s dangerous.” You pull the box away from him. “Aw, is it a blind date?”

“Why do you care so much?” he shoots back, tugging the box back towards him.

“Just lookin’ out for you, Bucko,” you huff, adjusting your grip on your device. “Need to keep my favourite senior citizen safe.”

“I have a vibranium arm.” Whose force he could use to grab the box once and for all, but wasn’t. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“What if she has one too, huh? Then what?”

“She doesn’t.” As far as he knows, he’s the only one alive with a metal appendage made out of the strongest metal in the world. That could very well change by tomorrow but he's keeping the title for now.

“But what if she does? I swear to- stop trying to take the box!” You pull a little more forcefully, but he doesn’t relent.

“I want this to get over before this evening.”

“What time’s your date?”

“Why do you care?” He’s sure anyone who saw the dumb tug-of-war you both were playing would just automatically assume he was an absolute manchild, not an Avenger.

“Because.” You don’t explain further. “Tell me what time your date is, you weirdo.”

“Five o’clock, now let go.”

“Fine,” you say, suddenly loosening your grip. Clearly, it doesn't make much of a difference since he isn't struggling to keep his balance from the sudden loss of force.

“Fine.” He clears his throat, straightening up. 

You don’t say anything. He doesn’t either.

A putrid smell creeps into his nose, one all too similar to spoiled milk and decaying seaweed. He has to physically stop himself from gagging.

“Have a good day.” You smile and lean far back. Too far. It looks like you're almost going to fall out of the chair.

Through the tears that are threatening to line his eyelids, he looks down at the box whose latch you somehow managed to lift, leaving the box open.

“What the fuck is this?” He coughs, swatting at the air in front of him to clear it.

“I told you; bad luck in a box.”

“You can’t scientifically create bad luck, that’s bullshit.” He tosses the box back onto your table. You watch it slide past you, not making any effort to stop it. “What is it really?”

“I’m not lying.” You pull open a drawer, brandishing a small table fan that you set down beside you. “If you open it, you’re going to have terrible luck for the day.”

He glowers at you when you turn the fan on, forcing the fumes back towards him.

“Besides, that’s all I was doing today.” You kick your feet up. “So you can leave now.”

He doesn’t care if you’re lying about not having anything else to do today. You could burn down the world if you wanted to but he needs to take a stupid shower. Again.

“You’re the fuckin’ worst.” He tries airing out his shirt, hoping that the smell would dissipate as soon as possible.

“Have fun on your date, sarge!” you encourage him as he stalks out of the lair. “Remember to wrap it befo-”

He turns it into a sprint before you can finish.

____

Six hours later and he’s absolutely convinced he fucked up.

He isn’t used to having his weekends free.

He realises that this is the first time in months that he’s actually stepped out of the Tower for something that wasn’t directly mission-related. He should probably get some air. Touch some grass. See the sun.

His shirt thankfully manages to rid itself of the odour from the dumb box so he didn’t have to go take a shower. With nothing much planned and a few hours to spare, he heads to the coffee shop instead.

It’s a small place, bustling and alive with a crowd of people. They have a little bookshelf that usually is full of books donated by patrons, free for anyone to read.

The barista smiles at him. The coffee costs more than his high school education. He awkwardly smiles back.

He’s not a regular, but they’ve seen him enough times to know that he usually asks for black coffee in a to-go cup, later adding a sugar or two according to his own taste. They're nice to him, occasionally throwing in a cookie or something on the house. He can't tell if it's because of the Avenger status or the sizeable tip he leaves.

He picks up a random book from the shelf, fully intending not to read it but to just sit there and think. The book acted as a shield for his resting bitch face, resting murder face and his resting rage face. More often than not, a good combination of the three.

He sets the coffee down at the corner table he manages to nab in a quick second, along with the two sachets of sugar.

“Is this seat taken?” Someone asks from beside him. He earnestly shakes his head in a ‘no’, gesturing for them to take it.

They give him a quick thanks and drag the chair away from his table.

He does a quick overlook of the book he picked up.

The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot.

Well, now he’s too anxious to put it back. YA fiction it is.

He reaches for the sugar while glossing over the summary. He reaches a little further when it doesn’t come to his hand immediately, blindly running his fingers across the table.

Bucky peeks over the book, eyebrows knitting together when he notices that they’re missing.

He was sure he picked it up.

He looks underneath the table. It wasn’t there, neither under his seat. Strange, but okay. He picks up the book and the cup, walking back to the station to grab two sugars.

This time he makes sure to tuck it into his pocket, double-checking before going back to his table.

Which was now occupied. He wanted to groan.

His mind automatically reverts back to the box from that morning.

“Come on,” he scoffs quietly to himself. It was a coincidence. “Get yourself together.”

“A seat at the counter just cleared up,” the barista from earlier offers when she sees him standing in the middle of the store.

See? Good luck.

He shoots her a grateful look, venturing over to the barstool to take his place. It’s not the most comfortable, but then again, he wasn’t planning to stay there for very long.

He empties the sugar into the coffee, stirring slowly before opening a random page in the book.

He takes a long sip, ignoring how hot the drink was.

He chokes immediately. Because either he was losing his mind or his order had somehow got switched from ‘no sugar’ to ‘diabetes in a cup’.

He takes another small sip and his face immediately twists in disgust. Definitely too sweet. The sweetener he added only made it worse.

He catches the eye of the barista. She looks on in concern.

“Is everything okay?”

Fuck.

He’s not one to make a scene. He just wants to live as imperceptibly as he could.

“Yep.” The sweetness sticks to the back of his throat. “All good.”

He just closes his eyes and downs the rest of it without thinking twice, trying to hide the grimace in his face. He gives her a weak thumbs up. She doesn't look convinced.

He leaves the shop soon after, hands shoved in his pocket. Maybe he could go sit by the lake at Central Park, watch the clouds. It reminded Bucky of the lake in front of his hut in Wakanda and the hours he'd sit in front of it, feet dipped into the water as his goats fed. He misses it.

He makes a sharp turn at a corner, still thinking about his options when his ankle abruptly twists under him.

He stumbles rather ungracefully, almost hitting the ground, but manages to save himself through the newly built up immunity he has towards falling thanks to all his encounters with you.

His gaze lands on his hardcore combat boots. Their laces had come undone.

Now he just knew that was horseshit. He always double knots them; they had never loosened in the past before.

The box.

He shoves the thought out of his head, crouching down to tie them again. He tugs on them to make sure they’re secure before standing up again.

Central Park is a few blocks away but he’s glad he didn’t bring his bike. The weather was rather nice and the wind in his hair felt good.

He wanders around the park for a while, looking for the lake. He pauses at a board with a map of the park on it, assessing how far it was.

Once he's ascertained which path to go towards, he turns on his heel to go.

He fucking trips again.

“Are you serious?” he says furiously under his breath. “Cut it out.”

He’s half-convinced that he should tie it around his ankle like a sexy lace-up set of heels. He ties a triple knot this time, glares at it until he’s sure it’s fine and checks to see if anyone saw him humiliate himself.

Only a person on a nearby bench who looked like they were passed out drunk, given that their hoodie and sunglasses clad self was slumped over.

No witnesses. No 'You won't BELIEVE what the Winter Soldier did! Critics say it's his biggest blunder yet!' articles the next day on social media.

He manages to make it to the lake in one piece and no more falls, partly because he keeps his eyes fixed on his shoes to ensure no fuckery occurs.

There are a few people rowing and plenty of others lining the bank at scattered locations. There’s a mom and her kid at the place he ends up. She sends him a small smile in greeting and he returns the favour.

There’s a secluded bench that he takes a place on, letting out a small sigh. If he ignores the traffic and the skateboarders and the people in general, it’s actually kind of peaceful.

There are geese and their little goslings swimming around the water close to the shore. Maybe he should have brought some birdseed. Or kale.

The kid beside him is busy fashioning something out of leaves, only occasionally erupting into giggles when it doesn't pan out. His mom watches him fondly, pointing at twigs he could use. Everything seems kind of picture-perfect and his body automatically relaxes, easing further into the seat and closing his eyes for a second.

Until there's a large splash and loud distressed honking. He whips his head around to find the same kid staring straight ahead at the goose with a wide grin. His mother curses quietly, picking herself up off the ground and grabbing his hand, half chastising him for throwing something at an animal and half urging him to walk faster.

The goose turns to Bucky. With no one else to blame for the sudden attack, it logically launches itself at him. His smile drops.

He gets up in a rush. The dumb bird nearly comes for his head, but he deflects with his metal arm.

“I didn’t even do anything.” He swats at it swiftly, trying not to cause any real damage. The goose, understandably, does not speak English.

He flinches when one of them bites at his knee. He can punt it to the sun but he doesn’t want to.

“Stop that.” He sticks his hand out to shove the stupid thing away, retreating back to the road. “Jesus, why are you so aggressive?”

Among the barrage of feathers showering on him, he prays his damn shoelace doesn’t unravel as he shields his head with one arm, the other fending himself while he moves hurriedly away.

The goose honks angrily at him. He scowls at it, not exactly pleased with the reminder that these fucking overgrown ducks were constantly bloodthirsty.

It doesn’t leave him alone till he’s significantly away from where he was sitting. He wants to call it profanity but that’d probably piss it off more.

The box and its effects were definitely starting to feel real.

Fuck it, no more day out for him. The best plan he can think of is to just go to the diner he’s supposed to meet his date at.

The waiter greets him with a courteous nod, which Bucky can only imagine was the best he could muster when a dishevelled 200-pound man walks in covered in goose feathers and irritation.

He won't admit that he’s too scared to eat lunch at this point because he can’t rule out food poisoning. He spends the next two hours on his phone playing Fruit Ninja and plucking feathers that accented his all-black outfit.

Several glasses of water later and a second before he’s about to beat his high score, someone taps on his shoulder, breaking him out of his concentration.

Motherfu-

He clenches his eye shut, inhaling deeply before turning around.

“James?”

“Hey, yeah, that’s me.” Bucky almost falls over the table with how fast he stands up, clearly underestimating his size. “Leah?”

“Hi.” She smiles and he finds himself smiling nervously along with her.

“Hi.” He steps out to pull out her chair for her and she laughs. "Nice to meet you."

“How long have you been waiting here?” she asks while setting down her bag.

“Around ten minutes.” He clears his throat to hopefully hide the fact that he was lying through his teeth.

“Just give me a second, I need to tell my friend I reached,” Leah pulls out her phone and he nods.

“Another glass of water for you?” The waiter seems less enthusiastic about Bucky’s 8th refill.

“Yes,” he answers, hoping he doesn’t call him out on it, “please.”

“You must be really dehydrated."

Bucky turns to look at him slowly. “I like the taste.”

He can’t really blame the guy. Bucky’s been there for hours without ordering anything solid, just leaching off their free water and complimentary bread basket.

“So, James.” She tosses her phone back into her bag, leaning forward on her palms easily. “Tell me about yourself.”

He had rehearsed this a million times. He could do this.

“I, uh,-”

“Menu?” Okay, so someone clearly had a vendetta against him.

“Thank you.” She takes it with a smile.

His morning debacle with the coffee flashes through his mind. Suddenly the idea of a diner didn’t seem so smart.

However, she’s already placed her order and George is standing beside him expectantly, daring him to ask for another glass of water, so he places his usual order and hopes that your stupid bad luck thing wore off.

He quickly learns that his date is laid back, and it isn’t hard to fall into a rhythm with her even though she’s the one asking most of the questions.

“How’d you meet Nat?” Is his attempt at one.

“She used to come in for lunch every week at the place I work.” Leah leans back in her chair. “She can really handle her alcohol.”

He’d be worried about Nat day drinking if he didn’t know about her complete inability to get drunk. She might as well have been downing glasses of lemonade.

“Yeah, she’s-” Intimidating, scary, cool “-really something.”

“She mentioned that you like movies.”  He definitely spends a lot of time watching them. “You got any recommendations?”

It’s easier to figure out how different things are or how much he missed out over the years through them. He’s glad he sat out the early 2000s, judging by their fashion sense and hairstyles.

He's watched several movies over the past few months, a few of them critically acclaimed and others who were just there for the cult following.

But now everything goes blank and the only thing that he can remember are the biopics made about Steve that were somehow hilarious for gifting him the mental image of Freddie Prinze Jr. dressed in the stars and stripes, and highly distressing for the number of historical inaccuracies. Contrary to popular belief, Stevie did not, in fact, consider running for president after he took up the shield, nor did he start his own bar chain.

He can’t name Oh Captain, My Captain starring Channing Tatum as his favourite movie on his first date and hope to make a good first impression.

“Despicable Me was kinda fun.” He wants to kill himself. “I mean, it’s the last one I saw.”

Her face twists in mild disgust, but he can tell it isn't ill-intentioned. “It's a good movie, but God, that just gave me some intense flashbacks to my aunt’s Facebook page. Don’t think I can look at a minion ever again.”

He sniggers with her. He doesn’t know what the context is.

He’s a little awkward, and he can definitely tell he isn’t the most open book but she laughs at some of his attempts at jokes. There’s a distinct discomfort he has lingering at the back of his mind prodding at him, telling him over and over again that he isn’t ready for something like this. A warning bell, asking him to leave as soon as possible because he was in a dangerous situation.

He remembers what his therapist told him about breathing and remembering that the resources he had available were greater than his anxiety and he tries to get out of his head. It takes a few minutes of acting like he's fine but he manages to do it.

Other than the one time he scalds his tongue on the coffee but played it off with a pained smile, shoving down thoughts of your stupid invention, things actually went okay.

It was nice, even though they decided by the end that it was better if they both gelled together better as friends. It lifts the strange fear he feels and he can hear Dr. Mendoza say she's proud of him for taking this step before spending three hours psychoanalysing why they decided to stay platonic.

Bucky promises to visit her sushi shop with Nat soon and she says a bottle of sake awaits him for a drinking game. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that Nat and he share the same tolerance for alcohol.

He makes sure to leave George a tip. A big one. It’s the first time he sees the guy smile the entire evening.

He’s waving goodbye to Leah outside and he thinks that maybe it was a good end to the day and that things actually turned out fine.

Until he turns around to leave, only to have someone walk straight into him with an iced tea.

The cold comes as a bit of a shock, making him jump slightly. He stares at his shirt, using his fingertips to pull it away from his body.

The person melts into a series of apologies immediately, offering to dry clean his shirt but Bucky just forces a shake of his head and says it’s okay even though he can feel the sugar making the shirt stick to his chest. Goose feathers and iced tea. Was there anything else that would like to attach itself to him?

His fists clench and his teeth grit and he has to physically control himself from sprinting to your lair because God knows what else is in store for him and he didn't want to add in any way.

The door to the lair is locked. Fuckin’ brilliant.

When no one answers after minutes worth of waiting, he fishes for his phone and realises that maybe two hours of Fruit Ninja was not the best idea, especially on a phone known for having shitty battery life.

There’s roughly 2 percent left. By the time he opens his app to give you a call, his phone screen goes black.

He groans. He’s desperate at this point and under any other normal circumstances, he would have never, ever considered doing this.

But ten minutes later he’s outside your apartment building. You’re aware that he has your address; no doubt that it was in the SHIELD file he had gotten, and he knows that you know but it was still weird.

The buzzer has your last name listed next to it. He’s sure that he’ll break it if he keeps pressing it at this rate but he really needs you to let him in.

“Who the fu-” your voice comes through the intercom.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, my phone died and I couldn’t reach you,” He breathes out as soon as he hears you. “But I need you to fix this.”

When he doesn’t hear a reply, he wonders if the thing actually worked. He’s about to start pressing it again-

“Bucky?” You sound a little surprised to hear him. “You’re at my house. Why are you at my house?”

“I need you to fix whatever this is.”

“What are you- fine, I’m buzzing you in,” your voice, initially confused soon trails off into something more dismissive.

There’s a soft click from the door, allowing him to push it open. The elevator is already on the same floor as him so he just uses that.

The elevator goes up a floor or two. His feet tap restlessly against the carpeted floor.

The lights turn off and everything comes to a standstill. His foot stops tapping.

He should have known. He should have fucking known.

Thirty seconds pass. He’s still in pitch darkness with the elevator showing no signs of moving.

In fact, he’s resigned to his fate. He sits down on the ground, only one step away from completely laying down and hoping someone finds his body here someday.

It’s six minutes of plain silence. He might as well get comfortable if he’s going to get stuck here for the rest of his life. Did he change his will? Does he even have a will?

There’s finally a whir. He thinks that maybe he’s going to plummet to his doom as the perfect end to this day, but then the light switches on and it starts moving upward.

It stops at the floor with a ding. He doesn’t get off the ground, only eyes the door wearily. With his luck, it wouldn’t open.

But it does and within a second he’s on his feet, scrambling to get out before it changes its mind.

He remembers your door number, basically charging down the hall to get to it.

The door is white and the paint is starting to chip off it. The handle itself is dented in a few places and he wonders if it was your fault or someone else's.

His knocks are rapid, agitated even. He doesn’t stop until he hears your loud shouts telling him to cut it out.

“What the hell were you doing, trying to break down my door?” It swings open, revealing you in your pajamas. “Haven’t you done that already? And where were you, I’ve been waiting for like, ten minutes.”

He honestly feels bad for showing up uninvited and highly flustered. He can’t imagine it’s a pretty sight either. "This bad luck shit- fix it. My whole day’s been fucked up.”

“What are you-” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, taking in his appearance.

It takes you a second to realise what he’s talking about but when you do, your face settles.

“How was your date?” You lean against the door frame, arms crossed over your chest.

“Really,” He glowered at you, “that’s what you care about?”

“Yes.” You nod. “Did you have fun?”

He hesitates. “I guess?”

“Was she nice?”

“Yeah.” Where was this going.

“Good, I’m happy for you.” The smile on your face is genuine. “Look at you go, Casanova.”

“We agreed to be just friends, but that’s not the point here. Y/N,” he whines. “I have a mission next week, I can’t afford to fuck up. My whole day was off and I don’t want it to carry over.”

“Your whole day?” you questioned, standing up instead of leaning against the wall. “Buck-”

“Just fix it.”

“Okay.” You lift your hand up, extending it towards his face.

He waits for you to do something.

You flick him on the forehead.

“There,” you declare, going back to your previous position. “you’re cured.”

What.

He says exactly what he’s thinking.

You laugh. “Dude. I was fucking with you.”

Huh?

“Well, actually maybe just like, three things and then I got bored.”

He’s confused.

“You know,” you begin when he doesn’t reply, “taking the sugar packets, switching your coffee order when you were looking under the table, took your place when you left, the shoelaces.”

“The shoelaces?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “That’s the other ray gun you saw this morning. Unties your shoelaces. I stopped after that because I thought you figured it out.”

His face scrunches in puzzlement.

“I mean, you looked right at me and told me to cut it out.”

He racks his brain about what you could possibly be talking about before it hits him. The hungover person on the goddamn bench in the park.

“You were the one in the hoodie and sunglasses.”

“I just followed the Avengers’ code of disguise.” You shrug. “Turns out it kinda works. Also teleportation. So helpful.”

He forgot about the teleportation. That's why you could do all of it so fast without him noticing you were even there.

“What about the fucking geese?”

You pause for a second. “The geese?”

“And the elevator.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The confusion on your face is apparent. “What geese and elevator? I have no idea what you’re saying right now.”

“Everything’s been a mess today,” he grumbles. “I don’t know what’s real or not.”

“I swear I had nothing to do with it other than what I mentioned.” There’s indignation on your features that quickly gives way to delight. “Holy shit, did I just accidentally invent portable bad luck?”

“Okay-” his palm finds its way to his forehead in exasperation, “-then what the hell was the smell?”

“What smell- oh, the one from the box?”

He nods briskly.

“Secretions Magnifique.” You snorted. “It’s a perfume. The worst rated one I could find.”

“Perfume?”

“With notes of milk, seaweed and sandalwood.”

“It wasn’t an inator?”

“No, it wasn- did you get vibe checked by a goose at the park?” You stifle a laugh when you notice a stray feather on his thigh.

“What does that even mean?” he asks in despair.

“I can see why it attacked you. You got bad juju.” You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe if you stop staring so much-”

“So I just have shit luck.” Is that a fucking relief or even worse?

“Well,” you begin but decide not to continue.

Even with all the irritability masking it, you could see that he genuinely was just not having a good time.

“Wait here a second.”

You leave him at the door. He shifts his balance and sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He still had to walk back to the Tower. Maybe he could grab a slice of pizza along the way since he skipped lunch.

“Okay, here.” You return with a large glass of water. He only looks at it. “It’s just water, I promise. You look like you ran a marathon."

He takes it from you sceptically, pushing away the urge to sniff at it. It’s gone within a few gulps.

You wait until he’s finished to point at his arm. He draws his eyebrows together, but you only curl your index finger and beckon for him to give you his hand.

He reluctantly extends it towards you.

“Don’t laugh,” you warn him, taking his metal arm. “This usually helps me.”

You tie a small bracelet around his wrist. It has a few beads, which he realises represent the colours of the solar system.

“Keep that for good luck.” You pat it gently after securing it. “I think you just had a bad day; those don’t last very long. Do you want to charge your phone before you leave?”

“Uh-” The bracelet’s pretty, the colours shine against the dark vibranium. “-no, I’m good. I’ll just leave.”

“Okay. Anything else I can help you with or will you be fine?”

He narrows his eyes. “You’re being suspiciously nice.”

“I’m not evil all the time.” You huff. “My hours are in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he says again. “I’m gonna go then.”

“See you next week.” You give him a little wave. “I’d say break a leg on your mission but knowing your situation...”

He scoffs. “Thanks.”

You make a move to close the door when starts walking down the hallway towards the exit.

He adjusts the beads slightly so he can see them better. The Earth one has glitter in it. He thinks it’s cute.

“Bucky.”

He turns around.

There’s a hint of a smile on your face.

“Take the stairs.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Next part

[luvsicksubs]

mercy - levi ackerman

cw: sub!levi, femdom!reader, dacryphilia, spitting, unprotected sex, edging + overstimulation (m. recieving), oral (m. recieving), degradation, a little bit of aftercare, riding, restraints, levi calls you miss 

wc: 2.7k 

a/n: im literally in love with him goodbye everyone. 

Retribution is normally in your bedroom.

A habitual creature at heart and core leaves him stumbling to your quarters in the middle of the night. It’s late - when the rest of his soldiers have fallen into a deep sleep and the entire hallway echoes when he steps. A single flickering candle rests in his palm but he could make it to your bedroom with his eyes closed.

A heavy sigh falls from his lips as he makes it to your door. His heart is hammering in his chest, hand trembling as he closes his palm into a fist and knocks. Always three times, precisely before he waits, taking a sharp inhale to ease the nerves he attempts to push aside. His eyes flutter when he hears you undo the heavy lock on your chamber doors, pushing it open with a faux surprise when you see Levi.

His skin is warm. He’s sure it’s unlikely that his expression is a proper match for how he feels, eyebrows stitched together fitfully. Still, you don’t falter. You greet him with an exceptionally warm smile, eyes full of mirth. He knows you’re not surprised, but you make a game of playing pretend. Levi is half-way between a scowl when he looks at you, never mind his pounding heart.

“Oh? Captain - what are you doing here so late?,” you ask, bemused. Levi considers temporarily turning on his heel and leaving. His frown deepens but it doesn’t seem to discourage your antics and Levi figures that you’ve never really been deterred by him anyways.

You smile wistfully, challenging - damn, you’re going to make him say it aren’t you? Levi misses you too urgently to come up with anything half-way solid and sarcastic. Even his pride, normally stubborn, proves to be wholly worthless today.It’s always that way with you. 

“To see you,” he replies, scrunching his brow together. You take the candle from his hand, noting the way the wax drips down the sides as you place it on the wooden desk in your study. With the lights dim down like this it makes it hard to see, but your hands are familiar. The brush against the shaved sides of Levis hair as you cradle his face in your palm.

“To see me? Aren’t I awful lucky?,” you quip. Your thumb smooths along his cheek bone, and even in the darkness of the hallway - Levi can see light in your eyes. You make everything feel easy and in turn make Levi frustrated. He couldn’t explain it himself. Rather, he places a soft hand on your wrist and closes the gap between you. He can taste your amusement on your lips, the small noise of surprise when he kisses you. Something akin to need flares up in his chest.

He’s just as surprise as you are when he pulls away, inevitably. Your smile is stretched so wide your cheeks sting as Levi sighs.

“Would you let me in already?,”

You grin, stepping aside and letting Levi into your bedroom before locking the door. For all the things Levi is capable of, subtlety isn’t one. He sits on the corner of your bed with his arms  folded in his lap - eyes heavy on your figure. You smile at him.

“Something you want, Captain?,” you hum. Levi says something in his head, a furious blush creeping down his neck as he watches you approach him. Like a cat, or a viper - more like. He spreads his legs for you place your knee between them. You curl your knuckle and drag it along his sharp jawbone, stopping underneath his chin before tilting his expression up towards you. Levi breathes a sigh of relief. 

Levi has never understood religion at its core. The only religion Levi Ackerman has ever understood had been full to the brim with corruption.  

Yet, when Levi is at your waist with his eyes held high, you are something of a deity. A religious altar. There is relief in your all-knowing stature, endless wisdom of all Levis sins. Levi has nothing to hide from you, your gentle prying eyes and loving gaze. Between your legs is an appropriate place of worship. He stares at you, brow hardened until your thumb brushes his lips and he opens his mouth. You smile when he takes you in, tongue soft against the pad of your thumb - there’s something like approval swimming in the sharpness of your expression. 

For Levi, your touch is indeed dominion. An unworthy worshiper who’s  to please the lord that reigns above him, protects him from whatever evil, and loves him wholly. If that is what God is meant to be, then Levi can understand it. 

Dominion. Divinity. God. You. These things are all the same to Levi. Truth awaits him in your quarters, with your dress pants tugged past your thighs and your leg hiked over the bed. The first step to retribution is honesty, Levi figures. 

The words are still hard to get out, but you’re patient. Your thumb presses down on the tip of his tongue, eye brows quirked. Amused. 

“Well? What is it, boy? Is there something you’d like to do?,” 

Your knee presses against the stiff outline in his pants. A choked gasp leaves his mouth, eyes fluttering closed as he nods. 

“Yes,” 

“What would that be?,” 

Levi chokes as he feels your knee lift up, grind against the cloth. The contact is so barely there but his body is attuned to your touch. He’s half-hard, gritting his teeth. His forehead falls to your mid-section, brows furrowed as he gasps. 

“I need you,” Levi croaks. His voice is trembling, the brush of your knee against his half-hard cock making it hard to speak. You tilt your head to one side, going hard. You push Levi softly onto his back, hands on either side of his head as your thigh presses against his cock. Levi lets out a sharp gasp - squirming under your curious gaze. 

“Need me to do what, Captain Levi? Answer me,”

“Shit, need you to touch me, Miss,” 

You grin, your expression lit up with pride. You lean down, nose brushing against Levi’s with a smirk. His hands come up to the front of your nightshirt, fisting the fabric. You kiss the furrow of his brow

“Is that so, Captain? Where exactly do you need me to touch you?,” 

Levi whines, throat hoarse as he feel your hands graze over his chest underneath his white shirt, unbuttoning each one slowly. Your mouth singes his skin, open mouth kisses littering his neck. Levi doesn’t even get angry when the hickies you bite into his neck are above the collar - though he’s sure his cadets won’t let it go when he blushes because of them

Right now, all Levi can feel is your hands, pinching and twisting his nipples. You brush them with your thumb, till your tongue laps at the hardened buds. You feel Levi take in a sharp inhale, your hands resting on his rib cage 

“Where do you need me to touch you, Captain Levi? Tell me,”  

“My,” A furious rush of scarlet litters Levis neck, chest and cheeks. Levi isn’t very good at being vulgar with you but your expectation weighs heavy. He shuts his eyes, gasping as your hand slowly travels lower. 

“Need you to touch my, ngh - touch my cock, Miss,” he breathes, barely getting the last bit out, “Please,” 

“Need me? Is that why you came waltzing to my bedroom in the middle of the night Cap? Did you come here just for me wreck you like a cheap slut, Captain Levi?,”  

A soft gasp tears it’s way from Levi’s throat. Humiliation flood his gut, sends butterflies leaping into his throat. Levi nods, peers into your heavy es as the travel down his body with the reminder that here, he’ll always be second place to you. Excitement rushes through him, trying to find the words to say - but it gets caught in chest somewhere. 

Levis response is cut short by your hands, fingers looping into the waist band of his pants and swiftly pulling everything down, all past his thighs. His cock bobs, heavy with pre-cum against his stomach. The tip is bright red, almost purple and Levi feels like he might cum just from seeing your face next to it. He gasps, sitting up and leaning on his hands to watch you with heavy eyes. 

“Beg for it. Captain,” you hum, lazily pumping his cock in your hands “Beg me to make you feel good,” 

“Fuck, please,” 

“Look at me,” 

Levi watches from heavy lids. Your mouth kisses up his thighs, teeth digging into the flesh with your hands finding purpose in holding him down. You’re slow, patient. A small kiss gets placed on the tip, the wind getting completely knocked out of his lungs. Down his shaft, your tongue slides over the vein as you take him fully into your mouth. Sinking down inch by inch, Levi groans as he twitches inside the warm cavern of your mouth. 

You play Levi’s body like an instrument - by now it’s what Levi expects. Still, caught off guard at the way you swallow him down your throat before stopping just as an orgasm starts. It leaves his cock aching, impending orgasm making it feel like he’s ready to explode. He needs it, and he’s going crazy with the way you’re holding it over his head. Bobbing your throat and swallowing, making him feel so damn good, but stopping right before he can release. Frustration bubbling in his gut, Levi chokes out a heavy sob. His hands still at his sides - obedient. 

“M-miss, can’t can’t, fuck - please let me cum, please - shit, I can’t do it,” Levi sounds good when he begs, begs you. He would never be caught begging anyone for anything but he’s pleading through the haze of an orgasm and the carefulness of your touch. Your eyes quirk when his cock is in your mouth, smiling at the tears that slide down soft cheeks and angular jaw. 

“You wanna cum? Couldn’t even make me cum, could you?” You pause, getting up. You carefully undo the belt from his pants that had previously been pushed off before facing him level again. 

“Why would you, mindless little fucktoy like you can’t think about getting off and following order - isn’t that right Captain,” you muse. 

“The chain of command here means you’ll always be below me, Captain - that’s where you  belong,” you say, barely hiding the sarcasm in your voice. Levi feels dizzy. Nodding deliriously, he lifts his hands up. The warm leather wraps around his wrist not once, but twice as you fasten it together. Tied arms fall back onto the bed, and Levi groans as he watches you get undressed. Your panties make a slick sound as you shimmy them off. 

Levi’s mouth waters, smoothing his tongue over his bottom lip as he watches you. Your thighs make it around either side of his. You slide your dripping cunt right against the length of his cock, letting it rest against your navel. He can feel the swell of your clit pulsate, how warm and tight you must be. He’s restrained by the weight of your hips but he bucks them up anyways. 

You lean forward, cupping your jaw in your hands. Squishing his face together, you raise a brow. 

“Open,” 

His eyes widen as you spit into his mouth - cock twitching against your stomach as you do. Groaning - the sound of your laugh making his chest ache. Levi barely has time to watch you. His eyes rolling into back of his neck, thrashing as he feels your cunt wrap around him. 

“Fuck, fuck - it feels so good. W-wanna cum,” Levi admits. You raise a brow. Levi can barely contain himself, the pleasure curling inside of him. It’s all so humiliating, how much he loves it and how much he loves you. You’re ruining him and he loves it. His hypersensitive cock is aching inside of you. So tight - like silk. Everything is blurry. 

“You can cum, baby - but I’m not stopping till I’m satisfied,” 

Your grin is wicked and Levi watches wide eyes as you lift your hips all the way up before slamming them back down again with no warning and no mercy. Levi groans loudly, your hands swiftly on his chest as you bounce yourself on his cock without any mercy. His throat flutters, the need to orgasm growing impossibly worse as you fuck him at this agonizing pace. The sound of dripping cunt riding him fills the room with lewd noises, pleasure thrumming in Levis ribs. 

Your tits are bouncing as you fuck him so roughly - so fast and so hard that each breath feels sharp.  Wet pussy dripping all down his cock, down past his thighs with disregard for Levi’s helpless warnings about just how close he is. It feels so good he’s seeing white behind his eyelids, spine arching off the bed as he breaches his first, painful and broken orgasm. 

Levi can’t get the words out when he finishes, unable to do anything but choke out a loud moan of pleasure, body twitching. Despite the fact he’s just cum you hold up to your promise, not even pausing. A satisfied grin makes Levi look at with pleading eyes, brows furrowing in overstimulation. The way his body is seizing is makes his voice cease. Everything comes out in a silent scream or pitchy moan. Pleasure that’s ruining him, tears of frustration running down his face as his cock remains painfully hard and hypersensitive. 

“Holy shit, shit - wait, fuck,” 

“So selfish captain, telling me stop when you haven’t even made me cum yet,” you say with a heavy pant “Needy fucking cumslut, not even telling me stop are you? Want me to keep going even though it hurts, right? Filthy,” 

Levi shuts his eyes hard. His lungs feel like they’ve collapsed. The smell of sex and your nails scratching down his chest make his nerves stand on end. Everything is hazy - not a single thought in his head belongs to him as pleasure and pain mix and make his skin burn up. The dull throb of pleasure has him hiccuping with an uncontrollable sob. The sound of his broken voice is like music to your ears, your own orgasm impending. You lean back, letting your fingers toy with your clit. 

Levi watches you through lidded, tear-stained eyes. Another weak spurt of cum shoots inside of you, thin and messy. His nails have dug tightly into the palms of his hands, gritting his teeth as he feels you. 

“So fucking vulgar, Captain - this is what you came here for, right? Just here to do what I tell you and take it like an indecent brat,” 

“G-goddamn it, shit,” 

“Cumming twice in one night - you love how much it hurts right? Our Captain Levi is a painslut ‘n a masochist, isn’t he?,” 

Levi’s heavy lids blink up at you, your face twisted up in pleasure as you ride his softening cock. Your fingers dance across your clit expertly, slamming down till you’re fully seated as you get yourself off using his body. He looks at you needily, not much left of his voice. 

“Please, please  use me, make yourself - haah, fuck, make yourself cum,” 

You collapse forward, shockwaves of pleasure ripping through you. You let out a silent scream as you connect your mouth with Levis, moaning into his mouth as you ride the high of your orgasm. 

When you pull away, Levi is still caught in the throes of subspace. You pepper kisses along his forehead and cheeks, cupping his face as he grows soft. 

“So, Captain, how was that? You feel okay?,” 

Levi frowns at you, wrapping his tied arms around your neck. He buries his face in your shoulder, groaning tiredly. 

“It was good. Now untie me,” he demands, though you’re almost positive it’s because he wants to cuddle. You chuckle, kissing the crown of his forehead. 

You lean back, undoing the ties on Levis arms and holding his wrists. He sits up, burying his face in your chest with his tired arms loosely around your waist. Your fingers scratch his scalp warmly, cooing praises about him being your good boy off-handedly before tapering off in idle conversation. That’s how Levi likes aftercare most, the vibrations of your voice as he cheeks are pressed against your tits. 

Levi is hugging you but he’s at your mercy all the same. Aching body, covered in hickies and bruises and nail-marks - he’s at your mercy.

 That’s what worship means to him. 

[honey-sweeeet]

duty calls; sherlock holmes

(cross posted from my A03)

sherlock likes to annoy you instead of just going to sleep at a normal time.

(tbh i had a song stuck in my head and it made me think of sherlock and im just waiting for season 2 of the anime. so heres something not depressing for a change)

word count: 1.7k 

“I can’t sleep.” He sighs, rolling over onto his back dramatically, one arm tossed over his eyes. “Ask me a riddle.” “Won’t that just wake you up more?” You sigh, not opening your eyes as you pull the blankets to your chest and bury your face against his ribs. Try as you might, you couldn’t block out the moonlight pouring through the window.

“If I’m going to be awake I might as well have something to do.” He throws in rebuttal. “I don’t know any riddles.” “Everyone knows at least one riddle.” He groans back, propping himself on one elbow to lean over you. He strokes absently at your cheekbone with one of his knuckles. “And you know every single one of them.” You sigh, still trying to drift off to sleep despite his tomfoolery. “Then tell me one I haven’t heard.” He smiles, hair wild and no longer restrained by his ponytail. “Fine. Let me think.” You relent, rolling onto your back and glaring at him through your lashes. Just because he couldn’t sleep didn’t mean that you should have your rest stolen from you too.

“Come guess me this riddle: What beats pipe and fiddle?

What’s hotter than mustard and milder than cream?

What best wets your whistle? What’s clearer than crystal?

Sweeter than honey and stronger than steam?”

You sing quietly, voice wavering a little as you try remember the melody. Sherlock drops onto his back again and folds one arm behind his head, smiling with his eyes closed. His other arm pulls you towards his body, drawing lopsided circles on your bare shoulder with his pointer finger as he listens. Your legs tangle together under the threadbare cotton sheets of his bed.

“What can make the dumb talk? What can make the lame walk?

What’s the elixir of life and philosopher’s stone?

What helped Mr. Brunnel to dig the Thames tunnel?

Sure wasn’t it whiskey from ‘old Inenshowen?

Stick to the cr’atur, the best thing in nature

For sinking your sorrows and raising your joys.

Boy, I of’t wonder if lighting and t’under

Were made from the plunder

Of whiskey, me boys.”

“Well, I recall asking for a riddle, not a song.” He eventually sighs. “That was a riddle, did you not hear the first line?” “It’s not a riddle if you tell me the answer in the middle of it.” “I didn’t tell you the answer,” You smile, looking up at his unamused face. He just raises an eyebrow at you, and you laugh against his chest.

“It’s a pretty song. Where did you hear it?” He asks, staring at the dark ceiling, finger still idly stroking your shoulder. You shrug. “Some men I was serving at the tavern were singing it.” “It’s Irish.” He suddenly declares. “How do you know?” “Inenshowen.” You just grunt at him, a sign of you not understanding. “It’s a place in Ireland. How many English songs would mention that?” “Maybe there’s one out there.” “There’s not.” He laughs.

You’re broken out of your little bubble when there is suddenly a clamour at the front door. You glance at each other and Sherlock untangles himself from your arms. He rises from the bed, walking over to the window. You roll on your back to watch him walk over to open the window, staring at his completely bare body bathed in the moonlight. His dark hair tangles around his shoulders, knotted slightly from where your fingers had threaded through it earlier in the evening. “Sherlock?” Came a cry from below. It sounded urgent, and you worry what he had done to offend someone this time. “Lestrade! What can I do for you at this fine hour of the night?” Sherlock sing-songs, leaning his shirtless torso out of the window, elbows braced on the frame while he grins at the visitors below. “We need you to come assist Scotland Yard in a murder investigation. Urgently.”

You didn’t have to even see his face to know there was a deliriously exuberant expression crossing his features. He makes a hasty hand gesture down below, and shuts the window with a giddy flourish. He rushes over to his side of the bed, and you squint as he strikes the oil lamp on. The yellow glow enveloping the room burns your eyes after so long curled in the darkness. He staggers around, picking his clothes up from the floor and you watch as he buttons his shirt up hastily. He tucks it into his trousers haphazardly, grabbing his jacket from the armchair nearby. His hair was still wild and untamed, and you wondered if he would tie it back on his way downstairs.

“Stay here for the night. Tell John when you wake that Lestrade called for me.” He instructs hurriedly, brushing some stray hairs away from your forehead. He plants a fleeting kiss between your eyes and turns off the lamp, dashing out of the bedroom. You hear his shoes patter against the floorboards as he finally slips them on. The front door swings open and closed, and through the thin glass pane of the window you hear the faint sounds of carriage wheels and hooves fading away into the night.

//

You had never met two men with such irregular sleeping patterns as John Watson and Sherlock Holmes. Holmes can while the night away experimenting and pacing the length of his living room with a book in one hand and a hundred puzzles in his mind. Watson will often be writing late into the night, but will rise early - likely a habit that he hadn't yet shaken from his army days. The two often met in the middle, Sherlock staying up so late that John was just rising as they passed in the hallways. When you stayed with them, Sherlock would stay in his room with you - either lying there and sleeplessly holding you, or finally catching the rest you continually begged him to get.

You're woken up before the dawn had even broken by the sounds of shuffling and pacing right outside the bedroom door. There's a timid knock on your door, and you presume that John is looking for Sherlock - that's the only explanation for his intrusion this early in the morning.

"Sherlock?" He murmurs quietly, knowing that you were likely sleeping in there too. You roll over, realising that you wouldn't be able to get back to sleep before you had to leave.

John hears some shuffling in return and a few dull thuds which he assumes to be Sherlock heading for the door.

He startles when he sees you wrapped in a long chemise and one of Holmes’ dress shirts, still groggy from sleep.

"Did I wake you?" He asks, not expecting for you to be the one to answer the door.

"It's okay, I need to prepare for work anyway," You yawn, wrapping your arms around yourself.

"Is Sherlock still asleep?"

You shake your head and rub at your eyes, stepping past John into the small parlour. Sherlock's desk is littered with jars from his experiments and there's a few physiology books stacked on the drawers that John still hadn't got around to organising onto the shelves.

"Lestrade called for him in the night, something about a murder investigation."

"He's at Scotland Yard?" John asks, heading over towards the door to the stairs. He would probably offer to make you an apology breakfast for waking you up so early.

"I assume so, there was a knock at the front door and then he was running off to God-only-knows-where."

"I'll go check for him there, I wonder what's going on this time." John muses. "I'll go prepare breakfast." He adds, excusing himself and leaving the small parlour room. You sigh, still tired, and look out of the window at the grim and grey sky lying just beyond the glass panes.

There's some rattling of pans and the occasional slam of a cupboard door. You trudge back into the bedroom, picking up discarded items of your clothing from the floor. Your clothes were cold from the wooden boards they'd been laid on, and your petticoat was crumpled from the desperate pile it had been left in.

//

The bell above the tavern door chimes, and you don't bother to turn around. You're just there to serve the drinks, you're not there for hospitality. You probably should have turned around, though, because you feel a grip on your shoulder and you turn around, fully ready to chide another handsy patron.

You're met with Sherlock's tired, yet still playful grin.

"Sleep well?" He asks, trying to reach over the bar for your hand.

"You shouldn't do that in public, it's indecent." You reprimand, settling your hands onto the counter and watching as he leans against his folded arms. He just shrugs, and you should have guessed that was coming because it was Sherlock of all people, and he often spread offence and chaos wherever he went. He clearly didn’t care about being indecent, because you were both unwed and sleeping together.

"And no I did not - John woke me up before dawn looking for you," You grumble, flicking a dirty dishrag at his chest. He strikes an expression of offence before softening.

"I promise I won't disturb you this time." He grins, taking a grape from the fruit bowl on the bar and popping it into his mouth. He bites down with a grin, fully relishing in annoying you while you're at work. He won't enjoy it as much later when you 'accidentally' knock over one of his beakers or 'misplace' his notebook in retaliation.

"Go home and go to bed, you oaf. It's not healthy to stay awake all night." You stare, a finger pointed at him to reinforce your point. He can't take you seriously though, because you're trying to not smile at him and he can see the conflict in your expression.

"Okay, fine." He relents, holding his hands away from the bar. He takes a small handful of grapes from the bowl and strolls towards the door, tossing them into the air and catching them in his mouth.

"Think of some riddles while I'm gone!" He calls, and the bell rings as the door closes behind him.

[yoonpobs]

hello 😊

may I request a drabble with jungkook and seokjin and reader with some angst and a bit of smut.. seokjin is her boyfriend and jungkook is jin's best friend and also a close friend of hers his also in love with her and he doesn't hid the fact that he has feelings for her so when y/n and seokjin get into a fight he seeing it as an opportunity to finally see if she wants to be with him

I hope that makes sense

thank you ❤️

pairing: fwb!seokjin x oc, roommate!jungkook x oc

genre: smut, angst

warnings: toxic/unhealthy fwb relationships, jin is a douche, jk is mean, oc needs a break

words: 2, 775

note: WHY DO I ALWAYS GIVE MY OCS A HARD TIME IM SORRY & i took a bit of a turn w this request so i apologise for any inaccuracies 😢

There is a way that Seokjin treats you in bed that makes you feel whole yet like you’re losing bits and pieces of yourself to him every time. He’s never selfish—God no. He was generous to you, much more generous than real lovers you had in the past that you shared kisses that were full of passion between the sheets. The passion you felt with Seokjin was undeniable and almost painful. You hated the word almost, it was like wasted potential on a possibility that could’ve come true but fell too short to be real. And every time you thought of that word you thought of Seokjin.

He was there. He always was. That was the conflicting part. Between always and almost, he was always with you but never almost in love with you the way you were with him. It was pathetic, really. How a woman held such high regard for turned into someone unrecognisable between the sheets and a few kisses from a man who didn’t even love her back. You swore to yourself you’d never let this happen. But here it was—happening.

He fucks into you at a brutal pace that could almost cloud your stressful thoughts. He never misses, his hips angled upwards to hit you in places that only lovers should feel. You moan, scream and cry—for reasons more than how good he makes you feel.

“Ffffffuck, J-Jin!” Your head is pressed against the mattress but you can still see your delirious expression through the mirror in front of your bed. He looks angelic with the way his forehead scrunches in utmost concentration in making you feel good, but the way he snaps his hips harder into your own was demonic. He usually left bruises and it felt nice to have the remainder of what he did to you—but stung at the same time with the way that he marked you as if you were his.

You weren’t.

“Like that, angel?” He leans down to whisper against your cheek and all you can muster is the blubber of a response.

The grip on your hips is rough, but you like it that way. He slips a hand in between your spread legs and rubs your clit in figure-eights that has you whining at a decibel louder than the ones before. Jin notices this and starts fucking into you faster if that was even humanely possible.

“Look at you—so fucked out. You’re mine to ruin, right?”  He taunts you, dragging a hand up your body with the wetness as the answer to his question. He tugs on your chin to direct your face to look at your reflection clearly, and you see your lips swollen, eyes blown out and hair tousled.

“Y-Yes—fuck—yours, J-Jin!” You’re panting, and you feel your coil unravel at a rapid pace, and Jin groans from behind you when he feels your cunt spasm around his cock ferociously.

“If you’re mine then don’t cum just yet,” He sounds too collected for a man who’s been fucking his cock deep into you for the past hour, but you could never read Seokjin. Even when you had his dick all the way down your throat, the most you’d get is a groan—and that was more than you could ever muster up from him.

“Jin—Jin—p-ple-please! I need to—ah—cum—!” Your words were cut short when he reached his hand around your throat to squeeze it softly. But you moan louder, and your pussy responds by getting tighter around his cock.

He chuckles in a low timbre from behind you, hips slightly stuttering—and you know this is a sign of his release coming soon—and you push your hips back to meet his pace, causing him to hiss at the sudden action.

Jin stares at you from the mirror for the night, and you release he always has a similar expression when he’s approaching his high. Something cold, detached yet melancholic. You could never read him enough, because by the time you think you’ve got an answer—he demands.

“Cum.”

And you do. Hard. Spots of white taint your vision like an angel trying to cleanse you from your sins. But the way you blackout for a second shows you no mercy and reminds you that Jin was the devil and you were his plaything.

“Ffffffff—” You can barely breathe. But it’s a pleasurable feeling—the only thing suffocating is the aftermath. When he leaves, barely sparing you another glance.

And you feel him cum with you, deep spurts of white painting your pussy as you feel full of him. Like he’s here to stay. He pushes you back onto him and revels in your limp body. You allow him.

When he pulls out, you’re exhausted. And you can tell he is, too. He’s heaving, and he helps you onto your back by placing a pillow under your back and head. He’s caring, but only out of decency, not commitment. You’re tired too, but it’s the type of tired that settles into your bones. The tired you only feel after sex with Seokjin because you know you’re sleeping alone.

He’s meticulous and quick, just like he always is. It’s the same routine that you’re unfortunately intimate with. He searches for his pants, slips on his shirt and grabs his keys and wallet. They’re always on your desk; never anywhere else because that implies that the routine was breaking. Jin would never break that—not with you, at least.

“Won’t you stay?”

Your voice is soft as it breaks through the atmosphere. You seem to catch him off guard for a moment but he’s tedious at not showing anything more than he needs to. He casts you a glance over his shoulders and you feel oddly vulnerable with your naked body, a blanket draped over your curves in a way that should be enticing. But you knew it wasn’t—because he only wanted you in the heat of the moment and every second after that is a reminder of who you were.

“Since when did we do that?” He snorts, quickly carding a hand through his hair while he checks his appearance.

And as always, he looks kept together while you were left ruined at the expense of his hands.

“We don’t,” you say softly, “I just thought …” your voice wavers when he raises a brow at you, causing you to hesitate in your words but you’re oddly determined today. Maybe you’re tired of the heartache, “It’s late.”

He looks at you for a long second before rolling his eyes and stalking you. Your heart clenches in expectation, but all Jin does is reach a hand around your chin when he leans down to bring your face inches away from his. Your eyes are hopeful when you look into his. The gentle orbs that peer back could fool anyone into thinking that he was tender and loving—but you’ve never seen that side of him. You only saw him when he was overtaken by desire, hard and tall when he fucks into you like a rag doll while he smirks at your slacked body.

“That’s cute,” he grins widely as your breath hitches, “But that’s not what we do, sweetheart.”

The term of endearment is anything but endearing. It’s mocking and it hurts.

“I …” You croak.

Then he releases you, finger lightly pushing your chin so that you’d fall back onto your palms. He checks his phone with a casual grin, likely being called over to another party—or anywhere else that wasn’t your home. Your heart shatters all over again, but you’re used to it. The glass that scrapes your skin is stained with blood but you’re a sucker for the pain.

“I’ll call you,” is all that he leaves you with before he’s helping himself out of your room, leaving the door open in his way. He doesn’t care for formalities, not even when you see him bump into your roommate on the way out. He gives a wave of acknowledgement, but nothing else—because who would introduce their fuck-buddy to their roommate?

But Jungkook knew. Of course, he did. You weren’t subtly because you hoped if someone knew then it’d be a little more real for you to hold onto. That ugly seedling of hope that blooms in your chest every time Jungkook would catch a glimpse of Jin leaving your room makes you wonder what it’d feel like if you could have him over for dinners, for movie nights—for it all.

But you can only do that; wonder.

The door creaks ever so slightly and only do you realise that the tears return. You automatically know who it is, because it’s the same routine. It’s the same song that you hear each time he comes over and it’s on an unhealthy loop of replays when you feel your bed dip.

“Why do you do this to yourself?” Jungkook whispers.

You don’t care that you’re bare. Jungkook’s seen you in worse states. Drunk off your mind, on the verge of collapse when you’d hope the alcohol would take the pain away. He’s a good roommate—but he really needs to mind his own business.

“Stop.”

“He’s a fucking asshole,” he sneers, grabbing your arm so that you’d look at him.

He hates that your eyes are red, and he hates that the bruises on your neck and chest match. The room smells heady of sex, and Jungkook has to endure the same pain you feel but tenfold when he watches your lips wobble the longer he stares.

“I love him, Jungkook.” You sob, leaning into his chest when he sighs for the umpteenth time, hearing the same thing leave your lips. It never got easier.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Jungkook spits, the thought of Jin returning only making his fists ball tighter when they rest around your bare shoulders, “Stop this. Stop going back to him.”

“Why doesn’t he want me?” You cry, hot tears wetting the fabric of Jungkook’s shirt.

“Why do you want him?” Jungkook returns, voice raising when he pulls back.

His eyes are blazing, the anger in his chest is only exponentially increasing the more he sees you heave. The tears that leave your eyes makes his heart clench and makes him want to chase that son of a bitch down and make sure he’d never see you again. But Jungkook finds himself staying still because you were here. In his arms—even if it you weren’t his.

But he’s still angry, and his mouth runs hotter than ever.

“Why do you keep doing this to yourself, huh?” Jungkook grabs your shoulders, forcing you to stare at him with swollen eyes, “You know he’s just using you! All he does is fuck you and leave. He doesn’t love you—and he will never love you so stop doing this to yourself and leave him before you continue hurting yourself like this!”

“Fuck you,” you spit through the tears.

“Because I’m telling you the truth?” He sneers, “Because I’m telling you things that you already know but are too damn scared to do?”

“Shut the fuck up, Jungkook!” You scream, pushing at his chest. But he grabs your wrist and levels you with a menacing stare while his own chest rises and falls with every breath of air he takes.

Your anger is muffled by your tears, and it’s a mixture of pain and rage when you peer at him. Jungkook’s so tired. He’s tired of feeling this way—of seeing you destroy yourself when you deserved more than anything anyone could ever offer.

“No,” Jungkook deadpans, “You’re going to listen to me and you’re doing this now.”

“I’m not doing anything! So let—me—go—!” You thrash in his hold, but Jungkook only tightens his grip around your wrists in a warning.

“Delete his number.”

“I can’t do that,” you say weakly.

“You can and you fucking will,” Jungkook says vehemently.

And as a point, he reaches for your phone that rests on your nightstand; and before you can process what he’s doing—he’s thumbing through your contacts and hovering over the one person you always seem to go back to.

“Jungkook, no—!”

But the damage is done, and Jungkook presses delete. For some reason, you feel absolutely nothing. But you’re angry, you’re angry because Jungkook’s always the person you see when it hurts the most and even through his words—all you want to do is scream.

“I hate you so much!” You scream.

Jungkook chuckles, dark and humourless as he runs his fingers through his hair. He stares to the side, jaw clenching in annoyance when you continue to cry and sob. He wanted to tell you to shut up—to stop crying over someone who’s probably already fucking the next breathing thing in his direction. But he doesn’t, because Jungkook’s impulsive. More so than he’d like.

“Yeah?” Jungkook scoffs, “You hate me? The person who’s trying his best to protect you?”

“You’re not protecting me!” You snap.

He ignores your indignant tone before levelling you with a blank stare that intimidates you more than you’ve ever been of Jungkook. He’s fuming, but it’s a calm before the storm that rattles your heartbeat against your chest. He looks livid.

“You hate me and love that fucking idiot?” He snarls, inching closer as you back away.

The growl in Jungkook’s chest is unheard of because more often than not he was level-headed. An annoying prick but calm and collected at most. This is the first time you’ve seen Jungkook look anything less than composed—and it was because of you.

“I can’t—I can’t control my feelings,” you say sourly.

He snorts, fully sarcastic and intentionally mocking when he looks at you with a hooded gaze.

“Isn’t that the fucking truth.”

“What the hell are you saying,” you narrow your eyes at him.

Oddly, you’re having this conversation when your tits are out—and only then do you consciously wrap your arms around your chest. His eyes immediately dart down to your subtle action and he rolls his eyes. You want to cuss him out, but Jungkook laughs. He laughs as if there was something funny—and you’re left even more confused.

“I’m saying that I fucking hate you,” he spits, face inching immensely closer as your eyes widen at his venomous tone.

“What—?”

“I hate you so much because you’re acting like an idiot chasing after someone who doesn’t give two shits about you.”

Your eyes well up with more tears as his words of bullets ricochet off your ears and settling deep in your heart. The harsh reminder makes your lips wobble and shoulders shake, but Jungkook doesn’t care.

“I hate you because you do this to yourself when you deserve so much more than what that prick can offer,” Jungkook says vehemently, hand wrapping around your chin to force your face to look at him.

Even now, when your eyes are puffy and red-rimmed, you look devastatingly beautiful.

“I hate you because I’ve been here this entire time and all you do is look for him,” Jungkook says softly, but his tone is still harsh, a sharp breath that erupts in his chest as well as yours as your eyes widen.

“Jungkook—”

“I’ve been here,” he croaks, and when you look into his eyes only do you see the pain, “I hate you so much because all I can do is love you.”

Your eyes widen as you gape at him, and you’re taking seconds too long to respond but your brain is processing the turn in events. But when you realise what he says, Jungkook’s pulling away. His hands retract themselves as if he’s been burnt and you were the flame responsible for it.

“Jungkook, wait—” you reach out. You were so confused, but you didn’t like the fact that he was leaving too.

“Don’t,” his eyes flutter shut in defeat, lips pursed, “Don’t touch me right now.”

Your face crumbles as you tug the blanket around your body until you’re resting on your knees and searching for his face.

“Can we talk—?”

“No,” he glares at you, and somehow—the look he gives you is far more painful than every moment Jin has ever walked out on you. Jungkook delivers the final blow when he snatches his hand away from yours completely.

“Figure your shit out because I’m done.”

And like always, you were left alone in your room—with more to think about than ever.

[mariusroyale]

You better give us some headcanons on the crew /j

Unless-

uh hah ha-

LESSS GOOOO

Kwazii:

- what’s the bet he watches and rewatches pirates of the Caribbean

- he’s littered with scars! battle scars he calls em and it stresses out peso bc he doesn’t WANT MORE SCARS ON HIM

- i hc him as bi! he just radiates bi energy to me-

- he blinks slow around peso :>>

- has used his claws to pick locks before!

- kwaso bc duh- he loves rubbing his face against pesos like he can’t help it he jus HAS to bc he loves him sm

- this is sort of canon already but he can’t go a minute without jumping or doing front flips anywhere like he GAHTTA MOVE

- when he’s thoroughly spooked he’ll jump extra high and cling onto the ceiling like in those cartoons akdjdkdh

Peso:

- often studies when he’s not busy!! gotta know more abt how to help sea creatures he hasn’t encountered yet after all

- sings/chirps when he’s v v happy

- FLAPS when he’s happy too hahdkfjd

- i think he’d like watching medical dramas! probably me projecting but i like them

- WHAT IF HES INTO KDRAMAS (ive only gotten into one but that hc is cute ahehsj)

- loves listening to kwazii’s stories!! (this is already canon basically (cough cough, that snail ep in season 5))

- I’d like to think he preens sometimes! just sorta fixing up his feathers and some (kwazii) of the crew are like ‘why are u stabbing urself’

- is a super fast swimmer! this is already confirmed p much but like HELLA FAST

Barnacles:

- enjoys listening to classical music

- also SOME HARD ROCK IF HES FEELING IT

- is BEEG LIKE 🅱️EEG 🅱️EEFY 🅱️OLAR 🅱️EAR

- could sometimes act like captain holt in my version of the crew!

- and by that i mean he sees kwazii as a son and would die for him (not if i die for u first captain!)

- when really really tired (as in u can’t save him with coffee) he’ll just blabber abt how much he treasures the crew and how much he’ll do for them

- sometimes he doesn’t get enough sleep! (like tweak-) and peso as his doctor has to keep him in check cos like yeah captain ur strong as shit but ur still old!!!

- his teefs are super fuckin S H A R P like sometimes when he needs a knife or maybe scissors he’ll just *SLICE*

- he’s obviously a huge softie but man this guy is SUCH a cutie patootie id imagine if he was in a relationship he’d be nonstop affection and all that

- speaking OF affection, he’ll pull kwazii into these big ass BEAR HUGS bc augwh he loves this cat so much “my SO N” “CAP LOOSEN IT A LITTLE IM A BIT SQUISHED-“

- bad at cooking but delights in watching cooking shows from time to time

- probably watches bob ross

- ohhhhh my god he could totally be an artist n stuff

Shellington:

- this one’s so stupid but, tweak and kwazii keep giggling whenever they make him say ‘LAWRENCE CHANEY’ KAHAKAHDS

- I’d like to think he tries to learn new languages too!

- falls asleep at his desk sometimes and one of the crew either carries him to bed or puts a blanket over him

- tries his hand at cooking with his children the vegimals! does not work out well he’s a disaster

- enjoys watching stuff on YouTube! u decide what youtubers he watches

- could hc him as ace!

- does that thing and eats ice

- he’s a lanky guy but almost reaches the captains height in my version

Dashi:

- sometimes when she’s really really frustrated she’ll just accidentally bark and she’ll just be like “😳 my bad-“

- when she’s particularly delirious (exhaustion, probably) she’ll chase her tail

- when she gets really excited her tail will wag really really fast

- adjdk sometimes when she’s super hungry she’ll skip chewing food and just I N H A L E (re: does not bode well when it’s noodles)

- sometimes she’ll just sleep in weird ass positions, neck tilted n all that

- loves dressing up tweak sometimes when she’s comfy with it (gives her her own stylish tomboy fits and stuff)

- LOOOOVES the barbie movies god she grew up on them and sometimes she’ll just watch fashion fairytale or princess charm school

- forces koshi to watch them too (she also loves them)

- visibly winces when kwazii tries mimicking her Aussie (tho it sounds p kiwi to me) accent

- probably watches drag race

Tweak:

- watches game grumps ajdjd

- sometimes gets too loud in her room when playing games cos she’ll get mad n shit

- “GODDDDAAMMIT I WAS SO CLOSE TO COMPLETING IT”

“TWEAK PLEASE ITS 2 AM GO TO SLEEP”

- sometimes she’ll just. eat leaves (even when they’re just on land in the wild if she knows it’s safe she’ll just. *nom*)

- goes NUTS whenever she makes blueprints that are like, detachable parts of a gup that are also modes of transport like she loves that the gup k and gup q

- like making it she’s like “HOHOHOJOUO WE GETTIN FUNKY WITH IT TONIGHT BOIZ” and it’s midnight and ‘bois’ is herself

- wants to redesign the gup f! ofc it was dodgy and is now a teeny artificial reef but she wants to make a new one that looks like the design she wanted initially !! (clownfish im p sure at least)

- her and kwazii get up to stupid shit in my version, assuming it doesn’t harm her gups or other creations

- when she’s pissed off/frustrated, she’ll tap her foot really quick repeatedly

- and while her ears twirl around each other when she’s scared, her nose also twitches!

[katelynnwrites]

Hi!! I hope you're still writing for the clones? Because I'm crushing on Wolffe!! So, reader tells Wolffe they are pregnant? With twins?! Reader is all nervous and not feeling too well and even more nervous when telling Wolffe (but happy end?!) :)

pairing: Wolffe x f!Reader

warnings: pregnancy and brief references to trauma and war

word count: 1309

summary: where you tell wolffe you’re pregnant when he comes back from a campaign

A/N: hi @ortizshinkaroff i hope this meets your expectations and im sorry it took so long for me to get to your request 🥺

Adike

You’re always on his mind but this time it’s different. This time he was secure in the knowledge that he would be with you by the end of the rotation. With each passing minute, Wolffe can feel his excitement growing.

******

When the ship finally lands and General Koon has finished debriefing him, he eagerly makes his way into the hangar where the rest of his brothers are. Not all the clones had someone waiting for them but those that did reunited with them there. Although civilians weren’t technically allowed on base, exceptions were made for occasions such as this. How could anyone deny the clone troopers the very ones who missed them the most when they were off on missions? Especially with all they go through and what they risked, serving the Republic.

Seeing the familiar faces of Rex and some of the 501st, he approaches and asks if they had seen you.

‘Sorry vod. Haven’t heard from your girl in a while.’ Rex shrugs apologetically and pats him on the back before moving on to greet the other clones.

Wolffe can’t help but be worried now. The 501st had been back on Coruscant for a week now and you usually made it a point to say hello at least once.

Distractedly, he leaves the hangar muttering brief goodbyes and see you laters to those who approach him.

*******

The trip to your Coruscant apartment is short. Wolffe doesn’t even remember most of it, too preoccupied by his worries for you. They buzzed around inside his head, nearly driving him mad.

It’s a relief when he finally ends up in front of your familiar door. He rings the bell once, twice and then a third time, bouncing up and down on his toes nervously.

You don’t answer and any relief he felt when he arrived disappears. This wasn’t like you at all.

Hurriedly punching in the code into the keypad, the door slides open and he rushes in.

The living room and small kitchen is empty and he heads into your bedroom.

A faint noise sounds from the joined bathroom and his eyes strain to make out your form in the dim light.

You don’t appear to have noticed his approaching footsteps, remaining slumped against the vac tube.

‘Y/n?’

You jump and manage a weak smile in his direction before a look of discomfort crosses your face.

Wolffe barely has any time to react before you lean over the vac tube and throw up. You brace your hands against the edge, heaving the contents of your stomach into the tube.

******

Familiar warm hands are on your back and instinctively, you relax into his welcome touch. It couldn’t be put into words, the extent to which you’ve missed it. Missed him.

‘Oh cyare.’ Your boyfriend rubs soothing circles into your back as you cough, grimacing at the bitter taste of bile in your mouth.

‘I’m sorry.’ You whisper into his shoulder before your stomach twinges in discomfort, causing you to throw up the rest of what little remained in your stomach.

Wolffe continues rubbing the soothing circles with his thumb, patiently waiting until you stop coughing before he speaks.

‘What have you got to be sorry for cyar’ika? You’re perfect.’

‘I wasn’t there. I promised you I would always be there and I wasn’t. I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.’ Your hormones are getting the best of you and before you know it, you’re practically sobbing in his arms.

Wolffe brings his arms up, wrapping them around your body, holding you close to his chest, murmuring, ‘Y/n… I meant what I said. You have nothing to be sorry for. You’re sick and that’s okay.’

Letting out a soft hiccup, you relax further into his embrace, reveling in the fact that he is here. That he is with you. Everything else could wait. Just for a while longer.

Exhaustion is weighing heavily on you now and the last thing you register is the light kiss Wolffe presses onto your hair before sleep blissfully envelops you.

******

Your eyes fly open, hand immediately coming up to rest on your small bump. He didn’t know yet right? In your earlier slightly delirious from exhaustion state, you prayed that you hadn’t let anything slip.

Anxiously getting out of bed, you padded softly out into the living room of your apartment. It’s dark outside, the streets of Coruscant thriving with its nightlife.

‘Wolffe?’ Your voice shakes slightly with nervousness as you sent up another prayer to the stars.

‘In here.’ He calls back, his voice echoing from the attached kitchenette.

He’s standing there in his blacks, two plates of hot food on the counter in front of him.

‘Hi.’ You give him a small smile, fiddling with your fingers when his eyes meet yours.

‘Hi.’ Wolffe responds in like as he comes to stand in front of you. He’s so close now that you can see the flecks of gold in his irises. You always did think he had lovely eyes and wondered how could anyone do clones the injustice of simply saying their eyes were brown.

Gently his hands come up to rest on your waist before he lifts you up onto the countertop causing you to let out a small squeal of surprise.

‘Sorry cyare.’ He chuckles lightly, breath fanning out across your face.

‘Are you feeling better now?’ His voice is filled with concern as he waits expectantly for your answer.

There’s a moment of silence where you simply look at him. The crinkles by his eyes, the slight stubble on his cheeks, the pure love and adoration in his eyes. The last of which seals it for you, causing you to swiftly decide that it’s now or never.

‘I’m pregnant.’

‘What?’ Shock is written all over his features, his eyes locked on yours.

Taking in a deep breath, you continue, ‘I was never sick. Not really. Just nauseous which has been normal for a while now.’

Wolffe is still staring at you blankly and you bite your lip, willing him to say something. To say anything.

Desperately needing anything at all to fill the overwhelming silence you hesitantly add, ‘It’s twins.’

Wolffe’s eyes widen and you begin preparing yourself for the worst, not that you could blame him. One baby was already going to be a handful but two? Two was asking for trouble.

‘I’m going to be a father?’ His voice is raw, trembling with emotion. There’s a slightly fearful look in his eyes like he’s terrified that someone was going to come and take all this away from him. That between one blink and the next everything he’s ever dreamed of would vanish.

Your heart aches for the pain he’s been through but you push it away for now, focusing on what’s happening right now.

‘Yeah.’ You softly confirm, a warm feeling rising in your chest at the sight of the pure joy that lights up in Wolffe’s eyes.

‘Kriff I love you. I love you so much.’ He breathes.

His hands move to your waist, touching your little bump gently. The premature lines of worry on his forehead seem to melt away as he looks back up at you in awe.

‘Our little adike.’

‘Our little adike.’ You whisper back, tears falling from your own eyes.

Mandoa Translation:

adike - plural form of ad’ika meaning little one, son or daughter of any age

cyar’ika - darling, sweetheart

cyare - beloved

vod - brother