#of course he isn’t asking follow up questions to anything I wouldn’t wanna hear more either hahahahahaha

[macaulaytwins]

let’s all take a moment to appreciate louis our strongest soldier for making a life with not one not two but three separate theatre gays

[taintedtort]

prompt ✧ when you give them the silent treatment

characters ✧ scaramouche, kazuha, childe, xiao

warnings ✧ gn!reader, implied argument

a/n ✧ i’m so terrible at writing requests, love you guys tho

SCARAMOUCHE

✧ gets so pissed

how dare you ignore him?! he’s so used to people cowering in fear and doing whatever he tells them to, so when he demands your attention and you refuse, he’s furious. he‘ll try calling your name, each one more louder and angrier than the last, but when you don’t answer he‘ll just storm off with a harsh "fine, whatever!" he‘ll come back when it’s dark and you’re in bed. slowly will crawl under the covers with you and wrap his arms around your waist. so what if you wouldn’t talk to him, he knows you’d never push him off you. it’s rare he shows physical affection so when he gives it, you gladly accept it. he feels you shift and then hears a call of his name.

"what? you’re finally talking to me now?"

KAZUHA

✧ annoys you

honestly he’s unfazed by it. when he calls out your name sweetly and you flat out ignore him, he‘ll find it more amusing than anything. of course, on the outside he appears worried— and he is, but he knows you love him and some petty argument isn’t going to change that. he‘ll follow you around everywhere, talking to you even when you don’t answer. kisses and hugs on you despite your obvious anger, but he just comes back after you push him away so you stopped trying. eventually you just give up and start softly replying to his questions he randomly throws at you. he‘ll smile widely at the sound of your voice finally directed at him.

"i missed you."

CHILDE

✧ ignores you back

he thinks your silent treatment is petty, and he’s determined to be even pettier. it’s mostly to piss you off, he’s not actually mad over your argument anymore. there’s a few days where neither of you will back down and the house will be completely silent, an uncomfortable atmosphere hanging in the air. eventually he starts craving you and breaks his silence with a heavy pout.

"come here, i wanna lay with you."

XIAO

✧ mostly confused

practically has a floating question mark above his head when you blatantly ignored him the first time. he assumed you just hadn’t heard him but didn’t bother to repeat it. went almost the entire day without noticing, he’s used to the silence. well— he used to be, until you came into his life. your voice filled that suffocating silence that once consumed him. when he finally realizes, he‘ll ask if you’re angry with him while having such a dejecting look on his face. it broke your heart and you instantly stopped.

"why aren’t you answering? did i upset you?"

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Seeing Red (Part II)

Part I

[A/N: Okay, wow, y'all really liked that first part 🥹 Sorry for the long wait (baby doctor, clinics, all that jazz) but I hope you enjoy!]

—————

Re-questioning the witness hadn’t quite panned out yesterday. Gibbs and DiNozzo had returned with the escort in cuffs, but she was being detained for assaulting a federal officer, not the Lance Corporal’s murder. Ziva had attempted to interrogate Tony about what went down, but received only a muffled, “Don’t wan’ talk ‘bout it,” from behind the ice pack tending to his nose.

That, of course, didn’t deter the rest of you, and the following conversation ensued:

Tim: That five-foot-nothing woman hit you hard enough to break your nose?

Tony: Oh my god, do you think it’s broken? My facial symmetry will be all off.

Ziva: McGee, you are such a male sometimes. Women are not frail beings.

Tony: Is my face still symmetrical? Can someone look? Guys?

You: Y’know, ‘you hit like a girl’ isn’t actually an insult. Wanna see? I can help you match your buddy there.

Tony: Okay, but seriously, am I still pretty? Someone tell me I’m still pretty.

Suffice to say, the case was still ongoing.

Laughing under your breath at the memory, you pour some creamer into your coffee and take a test sip, letting out a discontented grunt at the taste.

“Tough enough to threaten breaking noses but can’t handle a little bitterness?”

Glancing over your shoulder, you pointedly roll your eyes at Gibbs before directing your attention back to your brew and adding more creamer, then a packet of sugar for good measure. “You know what they say: you are what you drink. That’s why you enjoy that bitter swill, and I like my coffee extra sweet,” you respond with a smirk, turning to lean against the kitchenette counter as you stir your coffee and bat your eyelashes in an exaggerated manner.

Gibbs barks out a laugh in response, then crowds into your space until he’s a mere breath away and quietly challenges, “Extra sweet, huh?”

Your lips part instinctively as his proximity to you sucks the air out of the room, and you feel your heart rate skyrocket. It takes every ounce of your willpower to not close the gap between you, to not give in and press your lips against his. Your fingers ghost over the sharp planes of his jaw, and you let out an airy, “Jethro.”

Leaning into your touch, he murmurs, “Yes, Y/N?”

You uncurl your fingers and use the flat of your hand to pat his cheek, and with a teasing lilt to your voice, question, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

His eyes flash, betraying his true feelings toward your innuendo, before he collects himself and steps away from the warmth of your touch. “Get to work, Y/L/N.”

Your eyes roam across Gibbs’ broad shoulders and make their way downward as he turns on his heel and starts heading back to his desk, passing Ziva and Tony (and Tony’s big ass bandage over the bridge of his nose) on his way. Appraising the silver fox’s solid form, you run your tongue over the ridges of your teeth before quietly declaring, “Yeah, I could take him.”

Snagging the communal coffee pot from beside you, Ziva follows your line of sight and one eyebrow shoots up. An air of amusement to her voice, she asks, “You think you could take Gibbs in a fight?”

“Sure, David,” you murmur, taking a sip to hide your coy smile, “that, too.”

You push off the countertop and strut towards the bullpen, hearing Ziva’s voice behind you. “Where is she taking Gibbs? Tony? Why are you smirking like that?”

__________

It’s been several hours since your last verbal sparring session with Gibbs, you’ve been hot all day since your almost kiss, and your repetitive phone calls (“No, there’s no way Collins was having an affair,” “No, Jack didn’t have any enemies,” “Everybody loved Jack! Who could have done this?”) are really starting to piss you off. Replacing the phone in its cradle, you let out a sigh and rub your temples, speaking aloud to the NCIS agents. “I can’t find anything nefarious related to the Lance Corporal’s joint operation. We’ve got no motive, no suspects, and our only ‘witness’ was hiding in the bathroom. If only she’d gotten our killer with her fists of fury.”

“Oh, shut up,” Tony grumbles, and your joke landing gets you to at least crack a smile.

“What’s the matter, Tony?” McGee fake sympathizes. “You don’t like being the punchline?”

“I’m gonna smack that smile right off your face, McGeek, I swear-”

“I’m gonna smack you all if you don’t do your damn jobs,” Gibbs barks as he rounds the corner.

You meet his steely gaze with a grin. “Tempting.”

He smooths his hand over his face, opens his mouth to respond, and then thinks better of entertaining your comment, instead turning his attention to his agents. “Somebody give me something, people, c’mon!”

“Actually, Boss,” Tim pipes up, “I think I’ve got something.” You all crowd around his desk, focused on his computer screen. “He’s been making anonymous donations to a scholarship fund for about six months. I did some digging, and it’s in honor of a seventeen year old kid named Charlie Stone who died three years ago in a hit and run accident.”

“Our Muhammad Ali in holding,” you chime in, deftly twisting away from Tony’s pinching fingers, “isn’t her last name Stone?”

“Pull up the accident report,” Gibbs orders, and Tim’s fingers fly across the keys as he inputs the information. “Witnesses report seeing a Black Chevy Silverado leaving the scene.” McGee does some more searching, pulling up DMV records for your victim.

You let out a whistle as your eyes scan the list, stopping on the vehicle Collins traded in a few years ago. “Turns out our golden boy wasn’t so golden.”

“I think it’s time we have another chat with Miss Stone.”

__________

You spot a familiar shock of silver hair rounding the corner in your peripheral vision, a triumphant smile on his face that falters at the sight of you perched on DiNozzo’s desk. Throwing your head back in laughter, you lay a hand on Tony’s upper arm, squeezing while you compliment his sense of humor. “I don’t believe you!”

He flashes you a grin and holds up three fingers. “Scout’s honor, Y/L/N. Ask Gibbs!”

“I’m surprised you don’t get hit by suspects more often,” you giggle, delicately brushing your finger down his healing nose, and Tony winces playfully.

“Oh, Tony gets slapped plenty,” McGee supplies giddily. “Being punched is new for him, though.”

With a smirk, you ask, “You like getting smacked around, DiNozzo?”

Leaning closer, he lowers his voice and responds, “Maybe by a pretty- Gibbs!”

A quick glance over your shoulder has you meeting icy blue eyes, and you gasp softly. “You really need to wear a bell or something,” you mutter. “It’s scary how quiet you are.”

“If you two are finished flirting on company time-” You roll your eyes, taking note of the way his own flash in response. “I got a confession. Case closed. You can return to your coven, Y/L/N.”

“Oh, aren’t you just a riot?” you snark back. “I have my own report to write up before I can get out of your graying hair.” You hop off Tony’s desk and head to your temporary setup, settling down with the case file before you.

“Your little comments are growing old.”

“They’re not the only thing,” you huff.

Gibbs slaps the file in his hands down on his desk, the sound causing you to flinch reflexively. “You speak to Fornell like you do to me?”

“You speak to your subordinates like you do to me?”

“I-” He stops short suddenly, keenly aware of three pairs of eyes darting back and forth, eating up your ping-pong match of thinly veiled insults. Clearing his throat, his next words are spoken with an eerie calm. “May I speak with you in private, Y/L/N?”

“Fine,” you answer just as coldly. “Do you have an office or shall I head to the elevator?”

His jaw ticks before he grits out, “Conference room. Now.”

You can feel the heat of his gaze on your back- and roaming lower- as he climbs the stairs behind you. Stopping at the top of the staircase, he turns to his team and says, “At least pretend to be doing work, would ya?”

The door clicks shut and you turn to Gibbs, arms crossed and foot tapping. “What?”

“You-” His tongue darts out to wet his lips and he shakes his head, at a loss for words. Stalking towards you, he forces you to retreat until the backs of your knees meet with the chair behind you and you drop into it. With his hands on the arm rests, he leans forward and growls, “You’re trying to force my hand.”

Looking up at him from beneath your lashes, you smirk and respond, “I would never do something so devious…unless it’s working.”

“You know what your problem is, Y/L/N?”

You take in a deep breath and immediately regret it, Jethro’s scent overwhelming your senses and your brain going fuzzy. Fighting through the daze, you challenge, “Besides you?”

He ignores the bait, slowly lowering into a squat so that he’s at eye level with you. Gibbs tilts his head, and the way his piercing blue eyes are analyzing you has your blood rushing in your veins, heating your skin and the traitor between your thighs. “You’re used to getting what you want. And you act like a brat when you don’t.”

“I am not acting like-” You stop short, averting your gaze. “I’m sorry for being disrespectful in front of your team.”

He tucks two fingers under your chin, guiding you back to look at him. He’s sporting a wolfish grin, and his eyes are ablaze with barely concealed hunger. “What a good girl,” he murmurs, and saliva pools in your mouth at the simple praise. “You just need some discipline.” You tamp down the urge to respond So discipline me, instead letting him lead your dance. If lines were going to be crossed, you’d rather follow in his footsteps than pull him to the other side.

Noting the change in your breathing, he brushes his thumb over your cheek and your eyes flutter closed. “Feeling calmer now?”

You drop your head into a nod, and he follows up with, “Gonna flirt with Tony some more?” This time, you shake your head, and your cheeks grow warm with shame. “Good girl,” Gibbs repeats, and you let out an involuntary little whimper.

Your eyes shoot open at the distinct sound of a door opening, worried that another NCIS agent is about to walk in and catch you in this very interesting predicament. Instead, you find yourself alone in the large conference room, the door swinging on its hinge.

“Bastard.”

[A/N... again: I try to write my fics as if they’re an episode of the show playing out, and figuring out how to write about the cases (and the inevitable plot twist in every ep) is so much fun. I hope you guys enjoy me entertaining my little crime-fiction-loving self :) Thank you for reading 🖤] ___ Tags:

@ilovemark1951

@ash-whimsicalfanfic

@thecubanator2

@ificantbringmydogimnotgoing

@kittenlittle24

@queenofthedreaming1

@instantnoooodles

@doctorwhofan24

[froizetta]

WIP Wednesday: baby edition 2 electric boogaloo

More jondami, more or less following on from this snippet! Jon gets a continuation of The Talk from his dad. It's honestly a nice, wholesome chat, but he's still having a terrible time because he's 12 and mortified and of course he is, that's his dad, ew. (Bless him, it will only get worse from here lol)

His dad settled in next to him, still looking uncomfortable. “Okay. So, uh, Jon. I just thought maybe we should talk after yesterday.”

“After what? Nothing happened,” Jon grumbled. Which was true. Nothing had happened, and Jon had been acting like a total freak anyway. He’d had Damian in his room a thousand times already, but this time felt really embarrassing for some reason, and he hadn’t been able to keep a lid on it. Damian had given him a few weird looks, but he’d apparently been happy to ignore it since he hadn’t brought it up. But obviously, his dad would have noticed the way Jon’s heart was thumping away in his chest, even though he and Damian were just hanging around playing video games and eating ice cream like normal.

Having Superman for a dad was mostly really cool, but sometimes it sucked.

“Sure,” his dad agreed, in that way he did when he was obviously trying to be nice and talk around things. “But I wanted to check in anyway.”

Jon burrowed his chin into the neck of his hoodie and mumbled, “M’fine.”

“Right,” said his dad. When Jon glanced at his face, he looked uncomfortable and hesitant, like he was still trying to figure out what to say. “Well…I’ll be honest, I’m still trying to figure out what to say here.”

Despite his discomfort, Jon couldn’t help but snort out a laugh. His dad was kind of a dork sometimes.

His dad smiled a little, and went on, “So, Jon. I’m not going to make you talk about anything you’re not ready to talk about. But I need you to know that there isn’t anything you could do that would make your mom and I love you any less, okay? Anything at all.”

It took him a moment to realize what his dad was getting at. But then he twigged. It wasn’t just about Jon maybe kinda sorta liking someone for the first time. It was because Damian was a boy.

“I know, Dad,” he mumbled. He hadn’t really been thinking about Damian’s gender in all this, since he’d been too busy panicking about Damian. But now he was definitely thinking about it. Did this mean he was…gay? Or, uh, bisexual? Or maybe he just liked girls, like most boys did, and Damian was just the exception?

Jon didn’t really know. But still, it was kinda nice to hear that his parents probably wouldn’t mind either way.

“Good. And I said this before, you if there’s anything you wanna talk to me or your mom about, or if you’re confused or having trouble, you can always come to us. Growing up is tough for everyone, but you don’t have to go through it alone. Is there anything you’d like to ask me?”

Jon shook his head. It was only partly a lie: he really couldn’t think of anything he wanted to ask. He had questions, sure. For example: yesterday he found out that ice cream was just as dangerous as yoghurt. Now Jon was really starting worry that none of that was normal after all. Maybe he didn’t like boys after all, he just had some kind of weird "thing" for food, like some of the kids at school said Quentin Tarantino had a "thing" for feet. Jon had never actually seen a Quentin Tarantino movie because his dad wouldn’t let him (even though he’d seen way more violent stuff as Superboy, so it seemed kinda pointless to be honest) but he did know that having a "thing" wasn’t good.

Those kids had all giggled and said it was creepy. Jon really didn’t want to have a "thing".

...There was literally no way he could ever ask his dad about that, though.

[starsofmilos]

Goody Two Shoes (Eddie Munson x reader)

Request: I have an Eddie request! OK you know that scene where Chrissy is buying the drugs from him and the two of them were super cute and kind of flirty?Maybe you could write something like that with Eddie and the reader, where the reader is buying weed from him from the first time and they’re super nervous because they’re usually very following the rules. He thinks they’re super cute and ends up asking them out

AHHH I’M SO EXCITED!! REQUESTS ARE OPEN FOR EDDIE MUNSON AND FOR ADRIAN CHASE!!!

Masterlist

Warnings: mentions of sex, cursing, drug use, drug deals, fluff

Maybe this was a bad idea..

Well it wasn’t like you were breaking the law. Well you were, but you wanted to try to explore.

And weed was the perfect way to start.

So maybe this was a bad idea and it probably didn’t help that the person you were buying from just happened to be the guy you had been crushing on for the longest.

It had surprised Eddie to say the least when you had passed him a note asking him to sell to you after school.

Y/N L/N the school’s smartest girl and goody two shoes wanted to buy weed?

He agreed obviously but part of him was still in shock and kinda thought it was a joke.

You sat on the bench nervously tapping the table as you patiently waited for Eddie to meet up with you. 

“Hey.” 

You jumped a bit looking at Eddie wide eye. “Oh hi..You actually came?..”

“I did isn’t that what you asked for in your note?”

“Oh right..I did.” You laughed a bit nervously.

“You okay?” Eddie shrugged off his jacket before taking a seat.

“Uh yeah. Yeah I’m good.” He shot you a grin pulling his lunch box out sorting through his stuff.

“Good.” He squinted his eyes a bit seeing you glance around before turning back to him.

“Hey,” You jumped hearing him again, “We’re okay no one comes out here well except for me.”

You relaxed a bit smiling at him, “Okay thanks..for all of this by the way.”

Eddie nodded pulling out a small bag. “So I was thinking twenty bucks for an ounce.”

“Okay um will that last me?”

“Yeah it will last you quite a bit.” Eddie chuckled as you made a surprised face.

“This is your first time buying anything like this huh?” He smirked as you gaped before sighing and nodding.

“Yes..I wouldn’t know how much to take nor do I even know how to make a joint? And what’s it like being high?!” You began to rant as Eddie stared at you with a smile.

“I mean I wanna do this I do! I’m just so nervous of messing this up and you’re making me more nervous! Why are you smiling like that?” 

“You’re cute.” 

You grew flustered hearing him. “What?”

“You’re cute when you’re freaking out. Calm down Y/N. If you have any questions you can ask me?”

“I can?..” 

“Of course what did you think I’d just sell and never speak to you again?”

“Kinda?”

Eddie laughed, “I promise I’m not as scary as I seem.”

“I know you’re not scary. I’ve never been scared of you-”

“Then why you so nervous?” Eddie chuckled a bit.

“This is my first time doing anything like this at all and I guess it’s just kinda weird and nerve wrecking.” You laughed a bit. “Which I know sounds ridiculous and it probably would help if you weren’t cute-”

“You think I’m cute.”

“Well more hot then cute-”

“You think I’m hot?” You stopped looking back at him with wide eyes.

“Yes..”

Eddie clenched his chest falling backwards off the bench.You stood up a bit as he rolled over standing up. 

“Now that hit me right in the chest. Goody two shoes Y/N thinks me Eddie the freak Munson is hot.” 

“You’re not a freak.” You smiled at him leaning in when he moved back to the table eyeing you.

“Hmm..really?”

“Yeah I think you’re cool actually.” You smiled at him winking as he smirked.

“You trying to get me to lower the price?”

“No but if it works.” Eddie chuckled grinning as you relaxed actually joking back with him.

“You’re lucky I think you’re cute.” He sat back down. “I actually will cut the price. Can’t have a cute girl like you pay that much. I’ll give you the ounce for fifteen.”

“No I can’t have you cut the price. I’ll pay the twenty.” Eddie shook his head.

“Nah it’s fine.” 

“There has to be something I could do then?” 

“Hmm actually there is. Go out with me?”

“What?”

“Yeah let me take you out? Unless you don’t want too then that’s fine, but the price is still staying fifteen.”

You smiled humming as he grew a bit nervous waiting for your response.

“You have a deal Eddie. I’ve been wanting to explore. What better way than to go out with the guy I’ve had a crush on for a while.”

“Sweetheart I feel like you’re gonna regret that later. Once you’re with me you can say good bye to your Goody two shoes name.” 

“Good I’ll be happy as long as you’re standing beside me.” You stood up smiling with a small flushed face putting the ounce in your bag.

“Pick me tonight at eight.”

“I have Hellfire tonight..” 

“Tomorrow night then. I can respect you wanna do your club dungeon master.” You kissed his cheek sliding the twenty in his hands.

Now Eddie grew flustered as you grew a bit bold. He groaned internally as you pulled away leaving behind the scent of your perfume.

He shook it off seeing the bill in his hand,“Hey! I said fifteen!”

“Nah you’re taking me out and giving me drugs least I could do is pay full price. See you tomorrow at eight.”

Eddie smirked, “Oh for sure goody two shoes.”

“Can’t wait Dungeon Master.”

[junisfics]

All This Time — Armin Arlert (1)

series masterlist

Pairing: Armin Arlert x Reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Series Summary: Reader messages her best friend Armin late one night while she's drunk and needy, but will she remember the things she said to him in the morning, and if she does... will she regret it?

Part Summary: After Armin receives a disturbingly vague message from his best friend, he shows up to her house only to find her drunk and needy

Content: Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Eventual Smut

Content Warnings: Sexual Content, Mentions of Masturbation, Sexual Fantasies

You met Armin in your freshman year of high school. You had gone to separate middle schools, but those two schools fed into your then high school and you became classmates. You shared a band class together, Armin played clarinet and you played the piano. The entire band was split between two periods, you and Armin’s seventh period consisted of woodwinds while the other period held brass… percussion was split evenly between the two periods. 

That was the first game of chance.

The second one was after-school practice sessions with Mr. Steunberg. Apparently, Armin was struggling with sight-reading just as much as you were, so you were paired together for practice lessons on Mondays. And every Monday for the second semester of freshman year, you and Armin played your instruments in that little sound booth while your music teacher corrected you from outside.

Eventually, the twenty minutes between the end of school and the beginning of lessons was being shared between the two of you rather than each of you hiding off down some hallway. You had decided to come down the band hall early, conveniently at the same time Armin had as well. 

It started with one of you asking if the other had a certain teacher, followed by asking if they had completed the night’s assignment for that class. Over time, the floor distance between you two closed and you’d sit cross-legged on the carpeted floor just outside the booth, knee to knee, sharing snacks before Mr. Steunberg made his way from his History class and down to the band hall. You’d work on homework together and laugh over the squeaking mistakes from the neighboring booths.

Just around the time when you and Armin began to grow comfortable with each other, your organized lessons had stopped and your blooming friendship had been put on pause. Neither of you missed it too much, you barely knew each other, but you still smiled at each other in the halls and occasionally talked before your shared class if there was time, but there really wasn’t.

It was like that for a while; little waves, sentence-long conversations, awkward silences followed by equally as awkward good-byes. It was months before you ever talked the same way you had in that little hallway.

It wasn’t like you craved his presence. Christ, you would completely forget about him if you didn’t see him every day in class. But when he came up to you at the end of the day one day while you were sitting on the piano bench, waiting for the final bell to ring, you couldn’t help but smile.

You still remember the shirt he was wearing, how he pushed those thin-rimmed glasses he still wore up his nose as he talked with you, “Can you help me with sight-reading? I don’t wanna tell my mom I need lessons again and I’m embarrassed to ask anyone else.”

Of course, you had said yes to him, you wouldn’t be pulling your phone out in the middle of the night in the peak of summer to text him while you’re shit-faced to text him if you hadn’t.

Your practicing together turned into practicing and doing homework together, which turned into getting off track and watching YouTube videos together. Then came the hanging out outside of homework and lessons; goofing off at either of your neighborhood parks, walking down the road to get fast-food, running around in a grocery store because there was nothing else to do in the suburbs.

There wasn’t an exact moment where you agreed that you were best friends, it just happened. You were always there for him whenever he got pushed around by the baseball boys, when his parents got divorced and his grandfather moved in, when he got his acceptance letter to the college of his choice; and he was there for you for your first boyfriend and your first heartbreak, he was there when your dog was lost for five days… he being the one that found her, and when you got your acceptance letter, he was the one sitting next to you with open arms.

There were moments when you found yourselves distancing; when you got into little arguments. But at the end of the day, the love that each of you had for each other was stronger than anything. You always came back to him, and he to you. 

No matter how many times you broke his heart by flirting with him just to hook up with some random guy at a party the same day, told him that he was your ‘best friend’, talking about how he was ‘like a brother’ to you, he couldn't leave you and he couldn’t stop loving you.

Armin would do anything for you and you would do anything for Armin. This is why when he got your messages in the dead of the night, he was over to your apartment before he could even text back.

‘armin’ ‘come over’ ‘help’ ‘need help’

Every second between the moment he got your messages until he reached your door, he was mortified. His heart was pounding out of his chest, knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering while swerving around corners recklessly, eyes flitting over your parking lot to try and find anything out of the ordinary.

He almost tripped on the curb of the sidewalk while running up to your building. He was whipping open doors and frantically pressing elevator buttons as his keys still jangled in his hands, he didn’t even think to shove them into his pockets. His eyes bore into the red, electric lettering at the frame of the elevator, watching the numbers increase with his hand pressing against the metal doors like it’ll somehow make it go faster.

Once he reaches your door, he knocks frantically, jolts of pain shooting through his knuckles as he does so.

And you’re right at the door waiting for him. You tug it open the second you hear him outside of it, a giant smile of relief on your face.

“Oh my god! Thank god you’re here! I was going to pass out from waiting so long,” You giggle, grabbing ahold of his forearm that was still outstretched from knocking and pulling him inside.

It took him a moment to realize that you’re alright, that you’re standing right there in front of him, unharmed and unscathed, with his sweatshirt pulled over you, the one he gave you before leaving for university. You’re bouncing on the balls of your feet as you grab at his arms to bring him forward, stumbling back over your own feet in the process which just sends you into another fit of giggles.

You had a slight sheen of sweat over your face and neck, not a lot, just enough so when your head turned to look behind you the kitchen lights bounced against the gloss on your skin. You didn’t have pants on as well, just these light grey boy-short panties that completely exposed the length of your legs.

It wasn’t like Armin hasn’t seen you in a swimsuit before. Many times your parents had taken you on trips to a lake where you would go tubing and swimming for hours on end until you were both drained of all your energy. But seeing you in, presumably, nothing but his sweatshirt and panties that bared your thighs and bottom curves of your ass had him far more flabbergasted than a swimsuit ever could.

“You’re — you’re okay?” He asks, voice still wavering with concern as you continue to drag him towards the kitchen.

“Absolutely not!” You sound serious, “I need help… with making my dessert.” Your faux serious tone falls apart and you’re choking back another wave of laughter.

Armin watches you incredulously but intently as you slide your hands down his forearms until both of your hands meet his own, giving them a squeeze before spinning around and gripping the kitchen island’s counter.

You have an array of stainless steel bowls crowded beside each other while a mixture of dry baking goods sits unstirred in one of the bowls. You shuffle through the measuring cups and spoons before picking up a large wooden spoon and holding it up to Armin, presenting it to him, like you’ve found a block of gold.

When you turn away from him, he looks over the state of the kitchen. Sugar and flour remnants cover the countertops, series of baking instruments litter them as well, and on the kitchen table is a bottle of vodka.

And then it hits him; you’re playful nature, unpredictability, clumsiness, and intimacy.

“Are you drunk?” He asks you. He isn’t disappointed, or angry, just slightly taken aback.

You bring your head up from the bowl and tilt your head side to side like you were thinking over his question, “A little.”

It was much more than ‘a little’. Before you had even started drinking you were in a playful mood. You had just gotten the offer for a summer job for lifeguarding at the apartment complex’s pool and you thought to celebrate by binging your favorite television show and having a few shots. Then, a few shots turned to many and you were dancing around your living room while having the time of your life before you had settled on making yourself some food. ‘Another celebration’ you had convinced yourself.

But the measuring and the mixing were too hard and who else was there to call other than your best friend?

“Oh my god.” Armin smiles, shaking his head at you and making his way towards you as you continue to mix at god-knows-what you’ve put into that bowl, “You need actual food, not whatever you’re making here.”

You let go of the spoon, letting out a little huff of frustration at his words, scrunching your nose real cutely as you turn towards him. You take the front of his tee-shirt in your hands, gently fiddling with the fabric as you pout.

“I want dessert, Armin.” You whine, bringing your head forward to rest your cheek on his chest. Your chest was pressing against his torso, bare legs knocking against his own.

“’Tomorrow-You’ is going to thank me for not letting you have dessert.” He awkwardly brings one of his hands to your back, patting it a few times before letting his hand rest between your shoulder blades.

“Please?” You whisper, tilting your head up until he can feel your tiny breaths against his chin. Armin hopes you can’t feel the way his heartbeat begins to pick up in his chest at your close proximity.

“No… No, I’ll — I’ll make you toast or something, how does that sound?” He suggests, snaking his hands between the two of you to gently nudge you off him.

But the space between the two of you is quickly closed when your slide your hands up his chest and around his neck, “Don’t want toast.” You murmur, standing up on the tips of your toes to get in his eye-line. Your nose was only a breath away from his.

Armin carefully takes your wrists in his hands, taking your arms off him as he stammers out, “Well, you’re going to have toast.”

You let out another noise of frustration as you pull yourself away from him, your hands balling into fists at your sides while he pulls open your fridge for the loaf of bread on the top shelf. You watch him with your head tilted in fascination like you’ve never seen bread before, admiring the way his hair falls into his eyes as his pretty hands unwrap the plastic sleeve of the loaf then tug the toaster away from the counter backsplash.

He truly was so beautiful. You always contained your attraction towards him so well, but now your restraint was slipping.

You prance over to him, slipping your arms around his waist and resting your head against his back as he slides two slices of bread from the loaf. His skin is so warm beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. You can feel the muscles in his shoulders and back flex as he moves his arms, his abdominal muscles twitching as well in reaction to your fingertips skimming over them.

God, he’s so fucking nervous. 

Why is he so nervous? 

Because you’re all over him in just panties and his shirt when he’s had a crush on you for as long as he can remember. You’re being so touchy, so intimate with him, he’s afraid he might explode.

“Go sit down. Can’t — can’t help you if you’re in my way.” He says. Oh but he could help you, he could help you even if you were hanging on him like a spider monkey, he’s just afraid you’ll realize your effect on him if you do so.

“I just wanna be close to you. You’re so cute.” You nuzzle your head under his left arm until you and slip your whole body under it and stand ever so slightly in front of him, wedged between his torso and the countertop.

Your hands play with the hem of his shirt as you look up to him, your eyes glossy, and your pupils were blown. Armin tries his best to keep himself subtly distanced from you, but it’s no use. Every time he inches away, you’re just back on him. 

You’re sliding your hands up his chest, fingers tracing over his jaw and cheekbones as you cling to his side. He can feel your hips knocking against his, your thighs rubbing against his as you shift around to try and get closer. Your fingers follow along the curves of his neck, tracing down his throat then skimming over his collarbones.

“Sit here then. Sit on the counter.” Armin grabs ahold of your torso and pushes you against the counter, the edge of it rutting into the small of your back. You grab ahold of his biceps and let out a flirty little giggle at what his actions could be insinuating.

Your fingers press into the plush muscle of his arms as he strains to lift you, your heels grappling at the cabinets below you to try and aid him. His waist ends up slipped between your knees when you’re finally seated, and you can feel your body flush hot with arousal.

You were already sweating from the exertion you had put forward before he had arrived, but the added closeness with Armin was just driving you crazy.

“Now sit, and stay.” Armin places his hands in front of you to enforce his directions.

You giggle a few times, smiling at the fact that he’s treating you like a dog, “Woof.” 

Armin slips his waist out from your knees to come to your left slide, plucking the now toasted bread from the toaster and setting it on a napkin. He pulls open the drawer to his right for a butter knife, then snatches the butter from the island and brings it to your toast. 

His hands shake as he pulls the glass top of the butter dish, they shake as he dips the knife into the butter, and continues to shake as he spreads the butter over the first piece of toast. He can feel your thigh brushing against his hip as you swing your legs.

You begin to breathe heavier, the heat of exhaustion and heat of arousal begin to grow overwhelming. You fan your face a few times, pushing your hair off your neck, before grabbing the hem of his sweatshirt and pulling it up and over your head.

“What — what are you doing?” Armin stammers, taking a tiny step away from you.

You absentmindedly fold the sweatshirt before setting it aside to fan your face again, “It’s so hot… I think it’s you, Armin.”

You can see his face flush red this time, his ears as well, turning his cheeks and nose a pretty pink shade that doesn’t help your problem.

Armin tries to ignore you, he really does, but it’s so difficult because now you’re in this skimpy little tank top with spaghetti straps. And the straps are slipping off your shoulders and Jesus fucking christ you’re not wearing a bra. He can’t stop his eyes from flitting over your scantily clad figure, drinking in the way your thighs squish against the counter, the curve of your ass as it’s pressed to the granite, the way your nipples tease the thin fabric of your skin.

“Have I ever told you that? That you’re so fine?” You giggle, running a finger down his bicep as he finishes buttering your toast. You’re so grateful that he’s got that stupid white tee shirt on, the one that keeps your gaze lingering over the lean muscle in his chest and back.

“Um, n — no. Toast is done, hop down.” He refuses to make eye contact because if he does, he’s scared he won’t be able to stop himself from kissing you.

“Help.” You pout, reaching out your hands and grabbing for his shoulders.

Armin listens to your plea, setting the toast back down and grabbing ahold of your waist to slide you off the counter. But instead of bringing your feet to the floor, you wrap your legs around his waist and hook your arms around his neck. You have to tilt your head down to look into his eyes, only to see his pupils blown and lashes fluttering as he blinks.  He doesn’t push you off him. Instead, he uses his left hand to snatch the food off the counter while his right hand comes to brace your lower back. 

He’s afraid he’s going to have a heart attack now; feeling your thighs wrapped around him, your cunt hovering just right over his growing cock, your back arching your chest so close to his face that he swears if he looked down he would get a perfect view of your tits, your parted lips all glossy, breath fanning over the bridge of his nose as you run your fingers over the curves of his pretty pink lips.

Fuck. He was definitely getting off to this later.

You’re giggling all the while, and to an extent, you know exactly the effect you have on him. It’s cute, the way he stumbles around your house and trying to keep his footing as he brings you to your bedroom. 

“C’mon, Armin. At least take me on a date first,” You tease as he kneels down to bring your backside to the foot of the bed. Once your legs release his waist, he stands again.

“I’m — I’m not trying — we’re not —” He stutters, bringing his hands forward again like he’s scared you’ll pounce on him.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to. Armin wants nothing more in the entire world than to have you beneath him, to have his cock sheathed inside you, to have you moan out his name as you cum around his cock…

But he couldn’t let it happen like this.

You were drunk, so so drunk. And you probably didn’t even know what you were saying.

“We can if you want to.” You speak softly, your knees knocking together as you settle into your seat, fiddling with your hands in your lap as if you got all shy all of a sudden.

And when you look up to him through your lashes, brows furrowed slightly in a pout, Armin almost caves. But he catches himself just as fast, shoving your toast in front of you like it’s a shield.

Your eyes shift down to the food that’s presented before you, and your pout turns into a cute little smile as you daintily take it from his hands. You let the napkin rest in your left palm as you hold the food in your right, immediately taking a little bite out of it.

“You want some water?” Armin asks, still standing in front of you.

You give him a nod without looking up, taking another bite out of the toast while he fills up the cup that he knew rested beside your bathroom sink. As he stands in front of the mirror he takes a moment to breathe in and out deeply as the water fills the cup.

You were going to be the death of him.

“You know, I mean it when I say you’re attractive,” He hears you say, still sitting all obediently on your bed and waiting for him to return, “Everyone’s like, ‘oh Armin got so hot!’, but I always thought you were cute… you just got so — nnghh — in the past year.”

He returns with your glass of water, holding it out to you as you finish chewing. You take it from him gently, holding it in both your hands, careful not to drop it, as you take little sips.

He knew you were being irrational, but he truly hopes you mean what you say.

When you finish drinking, you pat your hand against the mattress as you set your cup to the floor. You want him close again, want the warmth he radiates both physically and spiritually. Armin listens to your ask and sits beside you carefully, running his hands over his thighs as you pull your legs up on the mattress and cross them under you.

“Do you think I’m pretty?” You ask, voice getting tiny again.

That was real… that question… he’s so sure of it. You were always insecure about your looks when you had no reason to be, but he had no idea that you cared what he thought about you.

“I — um… I — I don’t think my — my opinion matt —” He tries to get it to come out sounding right, but the moment he opens his mouth he already knows he’s failed terribly.

“Do… do you not think I’m pretty?” He can hear the feeling of betrayal in your voice, you turn your head away from him.

“No! No, y/n, I think you’re really pretty —”

You grab ahold of his shirt collar and tug him towards you as you let your back fall to the mattress. His torso comes over you and his hand shoots out beside your head to keep him from falling atop you. He can’t even bring himself to pull off of you, because your noses are touching and he can feel your knees knocking against the left side of his waist.

“I — you’re — God, y/n you’re so pretty. Don’t ever think I don’t think that.” He breathes, trying so hard to your lips from touching, for his own sake.

Your mouth splits into a smile and a little laugh escapes your lips. Your free hand grabs ahold of his shirt as well, assuring both you and him that he isn’t going anywhere. You look down to his lips, slightly parted as he pants heavily to keep his composure.

“No, but you don’t understand,” You keep your eyes on his lips, fighting the desire to kiss him, “You’re so fucking hot.”

Armin’s breath gets caught in his throat because you had spoken that in a borderline whimper. Your bottom lip had been taken between your teeth after you finished speaking, and he swears he could see your back arch slightly.

It was completely visible now, how much you needed him. You were holding onto him for dear life, your thighs were squeezing together and your arched back had your stomach brushing against his. You looked at him through half-lidded eyes, irises filled with lust and hunger.

Armin’s so grateful that your legs are to his side and now wrapped around his waist again because he would not have been able to stop himself from grinding down against you… it would have been completely involuntary.

“And — and don’t tell anyone this but sometimes… sometimes I get off to you,” You bring your voice to a whisper as you reveal your secret, lifting your head to move closer to him. He can feel your lips brush against his as you speak, “Actually... like all the time.”

Armin lets out an audible exhale, his jaw slacking at your revelation, he has to shut his eyes again.

“Do you get off to me too?” You ask. And you speak like you didn’t just reveal that to him, bringing your head back down to the mattress and smiling.

Of course he does. Of course he does. 

Junior year of high school you offered to be his first kiss, just for fun, ‘cause you were friends, right? And you wanted to help him get it over with. 

But every night since then, Armin has gotten off to you; laid back in his bed with his cock in his fist, and whispering your name as he cums.

“I — we’re best friends — y/n, I —”

“Best friends don’t wanna fuck each other, Armin.” You say, your voice losing all its playfulness and growing serious like you had suddenly become sober.

You stare into his pretty blue eyes for a moment, letting your own flit between the two of his. You were watching for any change in his expression, any look of disgust or repulsion, but you don’t find any. He just keeps that same incredulous, lust-filled look on his face.

He looks over you as well. Your eyes were still so droopy and hazy, your lips parted like you’re manually breathing. You were so drunk that it almost hurt him. You weren’t going to remember a single thing in the morning, and the two of you would be back to square one because Armin would never be able to repeat to you what you said to him or admit his searing desire for you.

Armin can feel your grip on his shirt tighten once more, and instead of lifting your head to him, you pull him down to you.

“I need you,” You whisper, voice shaking with arousal, “Fuck me... please.”

Armin swallows hard, his arms beginning to shake under his weight. He was going to fucking explode. He needed a break, just a moment, anything so he can catch his breath and regain some of his composure.

Christ, he was so fucking hard. If you were sober, he wouldn’t hesitate for a single second to rip off both of your clothes and push his cock inside you.

“I can’t — you’re drunk,” He murmurs, and you can hear the hurt in his voice. You can hear the fact that he truly wanted to do what you begged him for.

“No, Armin, I want it. I need it. I mean it, I swear.” You plead, your hands pawing at his shirt like he was attempting to get away from you and you wanted him to stay. But Armin was set put, he wasn’t moving, he couldn’t move even if he wanted.

“I need your cock.”

“Not — not now. You need to sleep this off. You’re… you’re not yourself right now,” He takes his eyes off yours, closing them once more and squeezing them shut.

“I’ve — I’ve always wanted you though. Always, I promise.” You continue, hoping that somehow you’ll convince him.

It was true. You wish he could understand how true it was. All the guys you had gotten with after-parties, after football games… they were all just replacements, they were fill-ins for him. You would pretend that it was him that was filling you up, gripping your hips and whispering dirty things against your ear. And for seconds at a time, it would work and you would convince yourself that Armin was right there with you.

And every time you would see him helping another girl with school work, see them flirting with him and getting touchy with him, playing with his glasses or drawing shapes on his hands with a pen… this disgusting feeling would churn around in your stomach and bubble up into your throat. And although Armin was oblivious to their flirting, it still hurt so fucking bad.

“I’ve always wanted you too… just — just not like this. Just sleep it off, okay? And — and then we’ll talk.” His left hand wraps around your waist while his right switches to brace beside your head. He grabs ahold of your torso and shimmies you up the bed until your head meets the pillow.

He sits back on his calves, his left arm sliding out from under you while his right hand brushes your messy hair out of your face before petting your head.

“And, and you’ll fuck me in the morning?” You ask, completely genuine.

Armin swallows hard again, pulling himself away from you and helping you slide your body under your sheets, “If — if you still want me to.”

You look up to him with your eyes full of admiration as he smoothes the sheets over your body, “I’ll always want you to.”

It comes out sounding much more intimate than it actually is to say that ‘you’ll always want Armin to fuck you’. And Armin lets his eyes meet yours again, matching the love that’s filled them.

He smiles to hide the doubt he has inside his chest. In the morning, you’ll either regret every word and ghost him or you’ll forget everything you’ve admitted. Both options made Armin’s heart hurt, but he decides that you leaving him would be the worst of the two. He wouldn’t know what to do if you’d never talk to him again. So for now, he truly hopes you forget.

Armin pulls his hands away from you, shuffling his knees on the bed to get off of it. But before he can bring his feet to the ground, you grab ahold of his wrist.

“Stay, please.” You ask, your eyes struggling to stay open. He wonders if you even know that you’re talking.

He listens to you anyway, bringing his hand down to the mattress as he slips himself under the sheets and next to you. And if he wasn’t sure about staying before, he sure was now because you were so warm and so soft as you shimmied back against him. You take his arm and sling it over your waist, letting his palm splay out over your stomach. You can feel every rise of his chest against your back.

You were going to doze off so easily, he was so warm, he was so comforting. You could feel sleep beginning to creep up on you quickly. But before you let it take over, you slide your hand back and between your bodies to grab the source of the hard thing poking into your ass.

“You’re so hard,” You giggle.

Armin chokes on his breath again and grabs your wrist to pull your hand off his dick, “Stop. Go — go to bed.”

You listen this time, retracting your hand to slip it over his that rests on your stomach, interlacing your fingers as you succumb to your exhaustion.

[jiminrings]

umm can we like do one where he touches y/n? Like he's all nervous but wants to make her feel good and she directs him through the whole thing?! Idk just sexy times hehehhe

cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D

jungkook sees you wearing a button-up blouse and all his inhibitions are ruined; alternatively, stem koo touches you for the first time

Jungkook’s shy — shy to the degree that he can’t find his voice when you quietly compliment him on his hair, but not shy enough to try and hold your hand whenever the two of you pass Hyeji or any desperate (yet unfortunate) classmate of his.

Jungkook is shy, but that doesn’t mean he’s subtle.

He’s not subtle with the way he looks at you from top to bottom with his eyes wide and his breathing shallow. He could swear up and down that he's quiet and have in fact given Jimin the spook of his lifetime at 2 in the morning when he creeped up on him, when all his poor friend wanted to do was drink water. Jungkook swears he's not obvious, but he's oblivious to the way you could hear his breathing.

He's not subtle with the way his eyes follow your movement and his speech is interrupted, unknowingly putting an end to your discourse on how every other beverage in the world, besides coffee, is considered decaf.

He actually forgets to breathe for a second and he feels every single thought vanish from his mind all at once, his focus only zeroing on you.

“Is that a new shirt?”

You're just about to present your argument to him when you suddenly feel the lack of noises of disbelief from your boyfriend, turning to him in the exact moment that he springs you an unrelated but very important question. "This shirt?"

Jungkook sees you point to yourself and he can't be subtle with how eagerly he nods. He decides then and there that maybe having no shame wouldn't be so bad after all, because seeing you chuckle at what seems to be an innocent question (and you still assume that it is) eases his embarrassment.

"Mhmm, it's new. You noticed?"

All the inhibitions loitering around his mind fly out the door the moment you respond to him, a happy yet surprised smirk on your face after seeing his interest. Jungkook's face, however, turns even more flushed because then does it click that what you're wearing isn't a part of a plan.

What you're wearing — as in the pale pink and silky button-up blouse, with the short sleeves, the relaxed lapel collar, and the low dip; as in the same blouse his eyes are fixated on, with the fitting and cut on you making it seem like it's only made for only you — is not a grand rouse to tease him.

The shirt you're wearing that gives you the loveliest silhouette and the sheer two handfuls of cleavage that Jungkook wants to volunteer to hold up, isn't a plan.

There is no plan for Jungkook.

There is no plan at all.

“Yoongs and Jin want to go to this bazaar later," your voice breaks up the static in Jungkook's mind which makes him gulp, "Jin’s just fixing up in the office and Yoongi’s picking up something from the post office.”

He's confused when you don't comment on your shirt further and you just go straight to telling your boyfriend about your own plans with your friends for the day, his mouth hanging open.

There's no intention nor malice behind your shirt that's meant for him or anyone else in that matter. He knows you're fond of giving him a nudge every now and then, but you never act on the same thing twice.

He knows that you wait for him, you respect his decisions, and love him so-dearly even if he's always caught in the middle of sexual innuendos that just fly over his head and you have to chuckle and shake your head throughout all of them.

Not only does Jungkook know, but he's dead sure that he wants nothing more in life right now than to hold your shirt open and suck on your boobs.

“I like this shirt.”

He comments all of a sudden and it sounds more like a confession than it is a statement, the straightforward and deeper tone of his voice making you peer your head at him.

You were initially supposed to go into the bathroom to change into your pants because your silk top doesn't exactly go with pajama shorts that have tiny hearts on them and have been worn on several occasions by Jin when all his clothes are in the laundry, but Jungkook shoots you a look that you can't deny.

He's sitting at the edge of your bed with his hand outstretched, the usual pout on his face is gone and surprisingly replaced with a clench on his jaw that you can't quite decipher yet.

“Thanks. I like it too," you giggle when he pulls you by your hips, making you tower over him while he's sat down. The look on his face looks happy, relaxed even, but there's still the clench on his jaw that you pay extra attention to.

Jungkook's hair is a little longer now and therefore much more noticeable when he combs it back with his hands, the lines that his fingers leave from weaving through them being indented. It shouldn't really be your main concern but you can't help but think that his jaw looks sharper this way, symmetrical to how his strong brows are visible with his hair out of the way.

You snap out of it when you realize that there's no furrow to Jungkook's eyebrows and that means he isn't angry or anything of the sort. There's no unease bothering him that you could think of, but it worries you even more when he looks even more stern now.

"Are you-"

You physically can't find the words because Jungkook takes it upon himself to grab you by your hips and make you hold onto his shoulders as the only way to make yourself stable, his mouth immediately diving into yours that makes you meld to him out of instinct.

There's something in the way he's kissing you because you could swear that it feels a little more desperate and needy, not that Jungkook's kisses never felt that way because they always do, but you could just feel it deeper in all senses.

You grunt the moment he accidentally bites on your bottom lip with his teeth, giving him a second to catch his breath but he feels absolutely helpless with the way he's now eye-level with your cleavage.

"Wasn't supposed to do this today."

He mutters to your mouth as soon as he desperately dives in back for a kiss, this time pulling you towards his body to make the both of you fall back to your bed, the sudden movement so unlike him that your squeak resonates but gets swallowed by his tongue anyways.

"Do what today?" you ask with only half a mind because to put it bluntly, Jungkook feels different today that his sudden barrage of deep and desperate kisses pulled the breath out of you.

Jungkook shifts beneath you and only then does it register in your mind that you're lying on top of him, gathering yourself to sit closely beside him instead and it's the moment you feel the bulge in his sweatpants graze the inside of your thigh.

“Jungkook?” you ask half-entertained and half-curious as to what made him this hard in a matter of minutes, oblivious to the gravity of your blouse and what's beneath it that drives him near the edge. “You need help?”

“No.”

He answers quickly yet he enunciates it as clear as he could, his voice heavy on the tip of his tongue with finality.

His answer leaves no room for discussion and the roughness in his voice makes you squint, tilting your head at him when he next spoke.

“I wanna help you.”

Jungkook pulls himself up from his lying position and kisses you languidly this time, easily making you somehow bored because it's tame compared to when he kissed you minutes ago, but you never get the chance to deepen it because he's trailing his lips to the shell of your ear, biting on it softly.

“Help me how?”

It's a loaded exhale that leaves your boyfriend as you basically just asked him to elaborate on how he wants nothing to do but to bury his face on your tits and change his place of residency to the valley between your chest.

Jungkook kisses down to your throat and he lets his tongue linger there, sucking so lightly that it makes you imagine if he's even doing so, but you can't tell because he's making your head tilt back on purpose.

“I can touch you, right?" he asks politely as he drags the tip of his tongue to your clavicle, his eyes looking up just as kindly for confirmation. "Can I?”

"Of course you could," you shiver when Jungkook places his thumbs underneath your arms and right to where the band of your bra extends from the cups, the goosebumps on your skin not going unnoticed because your boyfriend chuckles right to your ear.

“I was actually planning on asking you if I could try and touch you next week because I was too nervous,” he admits just as sure but not as forward this time, licking his lips as he lowers his head to meet your tits that are pushed together, only seeing the limited skin that your blouse allowed. “B-but you just looked too pretty today.”

You've come to realize in situations such as these, Jungkook says the first thing that comes to his mind. There's no filter and no barrier because he says what he needs to say the moment his mind throws in the words together. Could be a little incoherent at times, but his boyish charm is just something that proves to you how genuine he really is.

“Cute.”

Jungkook hears you mutter under your breath as you peer up at him, your roles being reversed as you're now the one who's sitting on the bed and he's the one towering over you, the sight of you being laid-back with your hands supporting you making the gears in his head turn.

He lurches at you again before you know it, just one more chaste kiss to replenish your taste on his tongue before he starts to unbutton your blouse.

“Calm down,” you chuckle when you see his fingers trembling but you make no move in helping him, in fact, you become even more relaxed as you look at him fiddle with the buttons.

“Sorry. I just really, really can’t wait to see you," he only apologizes half-heartedly, barely undoing the second button because he's so jittery and excited that he can't contain himself.

“Oh! Right,” you snort and it makes him wonder if you've suddenly had you eureka moment that's totally unrelated to the situation right now. “I forgot you’ve never seen neither my pussy nor my boobs.”

The harmless jab you make at him gets him to deadpan at you, scoffing with his whole chest at your teasing, magically curing his trembling fingers.

“Heh. I’m getting there, miss,” Jungkook rolls his eyes sarcastically and makes sure to stress on the last word to try and get into your nerves as much as you do with him.

He beats you in getting the last word because his hands get to the button that holds the peak fullness and weight of your tits, seeing with his own two eyes on how your boobs are full and almost spilling within your bra.

Jungkook gulps and he'd pay to see the replay of your tits that went from a tight cleavage to expanding fully after being released from the confines of your blouse, the unmistakable bounce of them spilling out from your top forever engraved in his mind.

“Oh my god.”

His hands work on autopilot to peel off your shirt, leaving you in your bra and shorts alone. Jungkook leans in from the side to look at your back so he could undo the clasp of your bra by himself, a heavy sigh leaving him when he feels the peak of your tits from underneath your bra press right to his chest when he undoes the clasp.

He tilts his head back to see his handiwork, his pupils dilating even more at the sight of your bra completely removed and your tits out for him to see.

Jungkook literally pauses right in front of you and for a second you're scared because you think you've broken him, a breathless giggle leaving your when you bring your thumb up to wipe the corner of his lips.

“You’re drooling, handsome.”

You're not sure whether it's because you pointed it out or it's the term of endearment, but atleast any of the two or perhaps everything you've done for the matter is what sets him off.

Jungkook wastes no time and lets his large hands squeeze your boobs tightly, moaning when he feels the soft yet firm flesh in his palms.

"That's it," you whimper when he squeezes them again, feeling the pressure out of your boobs being rubbed right off with how he rolls them in his hands, "just like that."

Jungkook's moan gets stuck in his throat when he rolls your nipples between his fingers and he gets a whine out of you, but he's positive that a chill ran up his spine and resided there the moment he squished your tits together.

The visual alone of your tits pushed together and cupped by his hands makes his cock twitch, a needy whine shamelessly tumbling out of his lips before he can even hold himself back.

"Fuck," he mutters as he licks his lips at the sight, turning his gaze to look at you. “Have I ever told you that I dreamed about your tits once?”

Jungkook's out of the blue statement makes you choke on your moan, willing your eyes open to look at him.

“What happened then?”

You ask as casually as you could to reflect your boyfriend who looks like he's just now remembered this tidbit at the heat of the moment, all while still rolling your tit between his hand while he plays with your nipple using the other.

“You let me suck on them,” he hums, giving you one of the sweetest smiles you've ever seen, suddenly stopping his ministrations so he can grip you by the shoulders while he speaks into the crook of your neck. “You let me suck on your tits for so long that I fell asleep with them in my mouth.”

The bluntness of his words shoot straight into your core, his hazy eyes smiling at you when you try to bounce back. It's admirable, really — looking at you looking at him like you could eat him up, all the while your hands are unconsciously holding his wrists, trying to put them back to your tits where they belong.

“You want that?” you coo to him when you feel him kiss the corner of your mouth. “I do have to leave in less than an hour though.”

Jungkook laughs and he knows you're serious, but he takes his chances anyway, knowing deep-down that he can't pry you away from your friends with a crowbar even if he wanted to.

“Do you really?” he play-whines to your neck as he kisses down the center of your chest, “can I tag along? I won’t talk the whole time.”

The laugh gets stuck in your throat the moment you feel Jungkook's mouth attach to your nipple, his tongue swirling boldly at the bud and the accompanying moan he has out of sheer enjoyment in sucking your boob render you helpless.

“It’s okay,” he hums with his mouth full of your boob, looking right at you when he suckles more harshly this time. “You’d let me do that next time, right?”

“R-right.”

It's only rare that Jungkook makes you speechless and your lack of words is something that shoots straight into his ego, feeling a lot more confident with the way your moans are amplified in his ear.

“I loved my dream that night,” he almost moans just by thinking about it, “remember when I said I couldn’t come over because Jimin needed my help with his thesis?”

You don't answer but Jungkook doesn't seem to like that, grazing his teeth on your nipple while he twists the other that it makes you jolt and actually think before your brain turns into mush the second after, vaguely recalling the time that he was talking about.

He's satisfied with the way you nod eagerly, a sweet smile that fills you up from the inside-out.

“I lied.”

“You lied?" you ask in disbelief but there's no real anger behind it. In fact, it even sounded like you were thoroughly amused. "You know how to lie?”

Jungkook breathlessly laughs to your jab, audibly 'ooh'-ing at your reply which makes you giggle even louder.

It's nice, actually, but there's another version of nice that you can't quite explain when Jungkook slaps your tit from the side and it makes your giggles cease, replaced with a moan that racks through you and makes your boyfriend tremble by the knees.

“I jerked off to the dream version of your tits,” he says with no shame while he furiously rubs your nipple in small circles, “and I cummed so, so hard in my hand that I felt too ashamed to see you that night.”

The dots only connect in your mind later on, realizing that Jungkook's voice did sound too hoarse and rushed for him to be only irritated at Jimin's thesis which he could eat for breakfast.

“Oh baby,” he hears you moan and it only makes him desperate to make you feel even better, his hand on the groove of your spine when you arch your back in pleasure, “you’re so good at this.”

“I am?”

His usual shy demeanor, especially from being praised, is something you highly treasure and is currently being showcased at the moment, keening from the warmth of your words.

"You are."

“I’m not gonna lie,” Jungkook chuckles to himself and the deepness of it makes you look for his warm touch even further, “it’s gonna take me like, four business days to not be nervous and finally eat you out.”

There's something about Jungkook that is unshakeable all the way down to your bones, seeing to it that he's in the middle of sucking and grasping at your tits, but he's also telling you how nervous he actually is and is making you laugh with his candidness.

“Don’t have to be nervous, Koo. You make me feel good anyway,” you pinch at his cheeks and he melts at your touch for a second, but tries to worm out of it as it hits him that he shouldn't be the one who's taken care of today. “But okay. I’ll wait for four business days to have you eat me out.”

Jungkook laughs with his whole body when you go along with him and his specific timeframe when it comes to psyching himself out, taking the time to see you laugh and the way your face turns into his favorite view before his hand goes elsewhere.

You're perfect, actually.

"You're wet."

Jungkook trails his finger on the center lining of your pajama shorts, and it reminds you of the fact that you haven't cummed yet and it seems that your boyfriend's not quite done with you yet.

“And whose doing is that, hm?”

Jungkook toothily grins, kissing you sweetly on the lips that you feel him smiling throughout. "Me."

He lowers himself down for him to be eye-level with your clothed core, his nose brushing against the lining of your shorts that it makes you writhe briefly, your shuffling coming to a halt when he holds you in place by holding your hands.

Jungkook's eyes are easily fixated on the shape of you that's curved into the fabric of your shorts, the wet spot that's growing the more he takes his time staring right back at him.

You clearly didn't expect it, which is why you obscenely moan to look down and see Jungkook diving in and inhaling you directly, his nose brushing against your clothed clit in the process.

“You smell so sweet.”

His lips press ever so gently to your mound that it makes you shudder with how soft he does it, looking down to see Jungkook closing his eyes who looks up at you with hooded eyes at the same time.

Jungkook winks before he closes his eyes and wastes no time in kissing your core as how he'd kiss your mouth, his pressure just as rough when he's desperate.

"Fuck, Jungkook!" you whine needily because as much as he's giving you, he's not giving you all because you realize that there's still a barrier between you and his tongue. “Y-you sure? Four business days? Can’t I have a rush order here?”

He finds it amusing that you're trying to banter with him in order to level yourself, and it's cute actually, but Jungkook knows better.

“Nah. I'm imploding on the inside from trying to psych myself out, y’know.”

He carelessly replies and before you can even add into the conversation, your eyes train on your boyfriend who's suddenly stopped, a plead growing in the back of your throat.

Jungkook closes his fist but only juts out his middle finger that’s in a closed knuckle, looking as if he's knocking.

"W-what are you doing?" all the words die down at the tip of your tongue when you feel his knuckle trail up at the seam of your shorts, stopping at the spot where you shudder and let out the faintest of whines.

"Don't you mean who?"

Jungkook drives his knuckle into your clothed clit and the shrill moan he gets makes his skin light up on fire, taking pleasure in seeing you writhing underneath him and moaning his name.

“Am I doing good?” he asks as he drills in his knuckle, hiking up your leg on his shoulder as he uses the extra space from beside you to his advantage

“You’re doing great, baby,” you almost feel like crying with how good you feel, willing your eyes open to see Jungkook who's just as lost in pleasure as you are, “so, so great.”

“Are you s-seriously,” you ask in between moans, feeling the familiar knot in your stomach intensify in waves, “gonna make me cum in my shorts?”

Jungkook works even more diligently now that you mention it, the sweat from his forehead dripping all the way down to his neck as you make the happy mistake in observing on how fucked out he looks while making you feel good.

“I can clean you up. Suck your cum out as much as I can.”

Jungkook hits the nail in the head because you find yourself gushing before it could even register in your mind that's consumed in a high.

And true to his word, Jungkook does suck up the proof of his doing so eagerly that you have to pull him up by his hair gently. “S-sensitive."

Your boyfriend lets you regain your breath as he proudly lies down beside you, wiping the sweat from your forehead with the back of his hand as he looks fondly at you.

Jungkook looks so proud of himself and you make sure to tell and make him feel just as much, a sincere kiss pressed on his temple.

“Not gonna help me out of my shorts?”

“Four business days.”

You change to your actual bottoms in the bathroom and you have to grip at the edge of the sink because your knees keep trembling, actually chuckling to yourself with how this situation fills you up with pride.

You come out to find Jungkook sitting on the edge of your bed in a prim and proper situation, having changed into your jersey that he takes the liberty of stealing and wearing every time he comes over.

He's holding your bag in his hands, flashing your phone and the notification that Jin's coming home in ten minutes and Yoongi's arriving not far off.

Jungkook has a blush on his cheeks and he's back to his sheepish state, nuzzling your neck in comfort while you smother his face in kisses.

“Did I do good?”

“You did perfect, Koo.”

.

.

.

as always, lmk what you think!! i love answering asks :D what do you want to see from the lunchbox lovers next? send them here <3

[skinnyducky]

class act // v.h.

requested by @lovesicksofi​ 

a/n this was quite difficult to write. i felt like half the time i was info-dumping and i didn’t want anything to feel redundant or like it was slowing the pace down. however, i tried my best and i think it’s good. i hope this what you were expecting and wanting !

vinnie hacker x plus sized!actress!reader

Word Count: 1544, edited

WARNING: fluff, mentions of death (not real) blood (fake) and stabbing (fake), language, and sadness... i think that’s all.

---------

You were sitting at the makeup chair in your trailer, watching from the mirror as your makeup artist added blood to the corner of your lips. Today was the last day on set for you as your character in your highly anticipated drama film was meeting their demise. It was bittersweet, but after working for a good three months, you were finally happy to get it over with.

Being an actress was something you dreamed of doing. You went from being the sun in your elementary school’s “food chain” play to starring on Broadway in hits like Mean Girls or Wicked. Now, you were hitting the big screen. Though, when people found out about you, as happy as they were to have another talented actress in the business, they had a lot to say about your weight. You were more curvier, more fuller than most of the women in your field, and you faced a lot of criticism for it. No matter how good your acting was, you were always just the “overweight” girl.

At first, those words hurt, and it made you feel as though you wouldn’t make it in the industry. But then, you realized you had been working your ass off to get to where you are today. You damn sure weren’t about to let some snide remarks get in the way of you achieving your dreams. So, you kept pushing and pushing. Now, you had a leading role in a movie, starring alongside Margot Robbie and Brad Pitt.

“I think I need a little bit more pink in the eye.” You said to Andrew, your makeup artist. He rolled his eyes at you and continued to add blush to your cheeks.

“You’re dying, Y/n, not going to the club.”

You shrugged. “Nothing wrong with wanting to look good before I get stabbed.”

“Har, har��now tilt your head.” Andrew sneered, putting on my mascara. “So, where’s Jen? I miss her rants about contracts and stuff.”

“She’s with another client of hers. Something to do with dropping an album or whatever, I don’t know.”

Andrew snickered, screwing the top onto back onto the mascara. “She’s managing music artists too? Isn’t she quite the manager.”

“Tell me about it. I get lucky if she ever she shows me any attention.” You laughed as you pulled out your phone and started scrolling through Instagram. You went through and liked a bunch of pictures until you stopped on a certain person’s photo. A smile plastered itself onto your face as you admired the shirtless shot of your boyfriend, Vinnie.

“Is that the boyfriend I hear so much about?” Andrew grinned.

“That’s him indeed.” You answered with a smile. “His name’s Vinnie.”

You and Vinnie had been together for a good year. You both met at some sleazy influencer party. With you both clinging to wall, clearly not wanting to be there, you two made small talk. You chatted it up about everything: from favorite colors to Elmo, your conversations were wild. At the end of the night when you were getting ready to leave, he asked you for your number—much to your surprise. With glee, you gave it to him and thus led to a beautiful relationship. Of course, there was hate, people questioning what he was doing with you and mocking you because of your weight. But you weren’t focused on that. You had a gorgeous boyfriend and a blossoming career right in front of you. Jealous fans were the least of your worries.

“He’s a cutie, Y/n. You bagged a baddie.” Andrew joked, spritzing some setting spray on his masterpiece. “So, when can I meet him?”

Just before you could respond, the door to your trailer opened. You turned around and shrieked with excitement as your boyfriend wandered in. “I got lost and met Margot Robbie.” He said, causing you and Andrew to laugh. “Hey, babe.”

Vinnie stepped beside you and planted a kiss to your forehead. “Hey, baby!” You squealed. “This is Andrew, my makeup artist.”

You pointed towards the MUA who merely waved at Vinnie before pulling out his phone. “He’s not really social,” you said. “So, what are you doing here? I thought you were doing a sub-a-thon?”

“Well, I was going to, but I decided to come visit you instead.” He replied, moving to stand behind you. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and rested his chin on your head. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“Of course, I am. I’m always happy to see you.”

He grinned and went to kiss your lips but before he could Andrew stopped him. “Not on my watch, sir. That took an hour and a half, and I really would like to not spend another one redoing it.”

You snickered, turning to Vinnie. “He takes his work seriously.”

“Duly noted.”

You and Vinnie shared a laugh and talked for a minute before you were called to set. After getting dressed in your tattered dress and fishnets, you left your trailer with Vinnie following behind you. Now, you were standing in the middle of a trashed hotel room with Brad Pitt across from you and Margot Robbie standing a few feet away. Vinnie stood with the crew as your director explained the scene thoroughly to you.

“Ginger”��he pointed at you—“is being attacked by Paul”—he pointed to Brad Pitt—“and Susan is banging on the door to help you, but it’s locked. When she opens it, you’re already dead, got it?”

You and the other two nodded before the director rushed to his seat behind the camera and yelled, “Action!”

Once the camera’s started rolling, it was like a shift for you. No longer were you Y/n, you were your character, inside and out. As Brad’s character, Paul—safely—flung you across the room, Vinnie couldn’t help but feel a little pained. He knew you were acting but seeing it, it hurt him a little. Margot’s screams rang throughout the set as she banged against the door. “Don’t hurt her, Paul!” she cried.

Tossing you onto the floor, Brad stood over you menacingly. “You wanna screw me over, bitch!” He shouted, gripping the straps of your dress as he pulled out the fake pocketknife in his back pocket.

“Please don’t do this, I’ll do anything. Please,” You cried, gripping onto Brad’s wrist. “Don’t, Paul…don’t do this!”

Vinnie gulped back a sob as he watched the scene unfold with tears pricking the corners of his eyes. Why am I acting like this? He thought. This isn’t real. But it felt real, all too real. It no longer felt like he was on movie set, no cameras or crew. To him, you weren’t playing a character, you were still Y/n…and you were being hurt. He couldn’t take it; he wanted to intervene and save you…but he couldn’t…and that broke his heart.

Soon enough, the epic moment came, and Brad plunged the “knife” deep into your abdomen. You let out an ear-piercing scream, sending chills down everyone’s body. Your breathing hitched as blood poured from your partly opened lips. And then…your body went limp.

“CUT!”

And with that, you we’re back to Y/n. The director ran over to you and pulled you up off the floor. “That was fucking amazing, oh my god! I’ve never worked with anyone who could convey that much emotion before!”

“Thank you!” You blushed. The rest of your cast and crew members flocked around you, complimenting you on your incredible performance. However, as you looked around, you noticed a specific someone missing from the small crowd. As you humbly accepted everyone’s praise, you said your goodbyes and went to search for you boyfriend around the set. When you didn’t find him, you headed back to your trailer. Before you opened the door, you heard the sound of soft cries. With furrowed brows, you walked into the trailer and there was your boyfriend, crying into a pillow on your couch.

“Vinnie? What’s wrong?” You cooed as you sat next to him and rubbed circles on his back.

He shook his head, keeping quiet. “Vinnie, just tell me. I’m not gonna judge you or anything.” You said.

“All of that…I know it was fake and it was just acting, but it felt so real. Seeing you just…die, it hurt me, y’know? I don’t know if it’s because you’re fucking good at what you do or if it’s just boyfriend instincts but, seeing that and knowing I couldn’t do anything to stop it…it was painful.”

“Oh, Vinnie.” You sighed, wrapping your arms around him. “I’m still here, babe. I’m alive, okay? Nothing actually happened to me.”

He nodded into your chest. “I know, but it was too real. I just had to leave.”

“And I understand. Had I known you were planning on coming, I would’ve warned you ahead of time. I didn’t know seeing me acting out a death scene was going to leave you like this. I’m sorry.”

“Y/n, you have nothing to be sorry for. It’s just me being worried over you.”

You smiled, “Well, you have nothing to be worried about.” You placed a kiss on top of head and started to stroke his hair.

“I’m safe.”

“And a damn good actress.” Vinnie added.

“That too.”

[seijorhi]

Inescapable

Part 2 of Always - another soulmate au with extra angst!

Oikawa Tooru x female reader, Miya Atsumu x female reader

TW toxic relationships, implied abuse, blind reader

“Stay here,” he murmurs, soft lips brushing briefly against your cheek before you feel his warmth retreat.

It’s an effort to quell the fleeting panic that rises in his absence. Japan is your home – was your home – but Tokyo… You’re not supposed to be in the village. Only the athletes, trainers and the support crew for the national team were supposed to stay there. It kept out distractions, made it easier for security, gave the athletes the space to focus on what they’re there for; to compete. To win. 

You don’t know how he did it, what strings he had to pull, but somehow he’d managed.

A room for the two of you. Just the two of you.

“You’re staying with me,” he’d told you when you’d brought up the possibility of going home to Miyagi to visit your family, or even spend a few days with Makki and Mattsun. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

The words had been whispered, a soft, teasing purr as lips curled into a smirk at your neck, but you know what he’s like when he’s competing. The focus and obsession he’ll throw himself into. 

Especially when you both know who he’ll be competing against. 

Nevertheless, you’re here. Alone now, standing in a sea of strangers talking too loud in a cacophony of foreign tongues while Tooru left to go find his team–

Strong, familiar arms encircle your waist, a kiss pressed to the top of your head. 

– but only for a moment.

“C’mon, cutie. Let’s get going – Coach gave us twenty before he wants us at the gym.”

—

You know one or two of the players on the national team from San Juan. They’re friendly enough, and they’ll stop and chat with you on the odd nights you venture out into the cafeterias dotted around the village for dinner. But for the most part they’re focused on other things and Tooru–

Tooru’s possessive enough of your attention at the best of times. 

Which means that you’re either with him, tucked carefully under his arm as he guides you around the village, or you’re stuck in the room, bored out of your mind waiting for him to come home to you. And for lack of anything better to do, you have the games playing on the TV.

Just for the sound of your mother tongue filling the room around you. Just so you won’t be alone with your thoughts for too long.

It’s different, back home in San Juan. But you understand it – why he brought you. 

“Where I go, you go, always.”

“Always.”

And the loneliness is worth it, you think, when he sinks down into the mattress beside you after a long day’s training and pulls you close, nuzzling into your side. This is better than being left behind. You’re here to support the man you love. Your soulmate, the name on your arm be damned. 

His good luck charm, he hums, kissing you in the early hours of the morning before slipping away. 

But even you can’t just sit around the apartment all day long. It’s good to stretch your legs, even when you’re in strange, unfamiliar territory. You tell yourself that what Tooru doesn’t know won’t hurt him, forgetting just for one blissful moment that your soulmate and his team are not the only ones who might catch you wandering. 

Of course, that realisation doesn’t sink in until broad shoulders suddenly barrel past you, knocking you off your feet. And you would have fallen, awkwardly probably, had a pair of strong, lean arms not caught at your waist, steadying you.

“Jeeze, Bokkun! Watch where yer goin’, wouldja!”

The first voice, the thick, drawling Kansai dialect isn’t familiar, but the voice that follows is impossible to misplace.

“Thought I told you two–”

It cuts off abruptly, and in some distant part of your brain you register that the stranger’s still holding you, the warmth of his hand still braced on your hip, but all you can really focus on is the owner of that second voice.

“Iwa?”

Tooru had told you he’d be here, Hinata too and Kageyama. And of course Ushijima, but you’d assumed that – at least up until they played against one another or team Japan got knocked out of the running – they’d be busy and you wouldn’t cross paths.

There’s a surprised intake of air from your left – ‘Bokkun’, you imagine – and he asks, “Wait, you know her, dude?”

And still, the warm body holding you doesn’t move an inch. Not until a familiar, irritated huff sounds, “Get your hands off her, dumbass.”

The body behind you tenses for a split second before obeying, hands ripping themselves away from you as if he’d been scalded. “Shit, sorry!”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine,” you murmur with what you hope is a polite smile, only half paying attention because you can hear Iwa striding towards you. In one breath, he’s knocking back your saviour and pulling you into a one armed hug.

“Shittykawa said he’d be bringing you,” he says quietly as you squeeze him back. It’s been such a long time since you’ve been face to face with him. Tooru calls him to catch up most weeks, more often than putting him on speaker so that you can say hi, but it’s not the same. “Didn’t think he meant to the actual village, though.”

You’ve missed him, you realise. Him and Makki and Mattsun, and suddenly there’s a lump in your throat, emotions welling that you can’t name. There’s so much you want to say to him, things he knows but should be said anyway, but–

“Aren’t you gonna introduce us to your pretty friend, Iwa?”

Your cheeks heat as the two of you part, yet it’s Iwa who answers for the both of you.

“No. You two need to get your asses moving,” he says. “Back to the gym, now. Unless you wanna stay back after everyone else finishes up to run extra drills?”

It’s a clear dismissal, and the two only pause for a heartbeat before grumbling their assent – and one sheepish apology – and heading off to continue their run.

“Let me walk you back.”

Some things never change, you suppose. “Iwa, you have an Olympic team to train,” you tell him with a wry grin. ”I’m not going to risk being accused of sabotaging the Japanese national volleyball team just because you feel the need to be gentlemanly.”

It’s clearly meant as a tease, but instead of the good-natured huff you’re expecting, he sighs. “C’mon. You almost got knocked on your ass, let me walk you back.”

It’s not a suggestion, and as he takes you by the hand and starts leading you back the way you came you’re reminded of high school - he used to do exactly same thing any timeTooru wasn’t around. There’s a slight flicker of irritation at your first breath of fresh air without Oikawa’s overprotective hovering being snatched away, but you know he means well.

He always does.

So you shove those feelings down and offer him a smile. “You know I’m stupidly proud of you, right?” you tell him. “Both of you.”

And something in Iwa relaxes and he laughs, “Yeah well I’m just glad you’re gonna be here to witness me wipe the floor with Shittykawa’s ass.”

—

It’s late, and Tooru isn’t back yet. 

And it wouldn’t bother you except that lunch had been hours ago, and your stomach is starting to growl, hunger settling in. 

Tooru works hard, he pushes himself and stays late when he should be home resting, you know that, but even if you did want to go and find him, pull him back so that he won’t push past his limits days out from competing, you wouldn’t have a clue where to find him – not in this sprawling maze of a complex.

What else can you do but wait, as fifteen minutes turns into half an hour, then an hour, and suddenly it’s almost nine. 

He won’t be happy that you’ve left without him, but either he’ll meet you at the cafeteria, or you’ll get home before he’s back and you’ll have dinner waiting for him. At this time of the night it’s likely to be empty anyway, it’s not like you’re running off in the middle of the dinner rush.

Most of the athletes’ll be back in their rooms, you’re not gonna get knocked around in the mad scramble for food, nobody’s going to pay you any mind.

But once again, you’re proven wrong. 

It’s not quite the roaring din that you’ve come to associate with the dining hall, but you can hear a few quiet conversations scattered throughout the room. At least none of them pay you any heed as you slowly wander the buffet, shyly asking one of the servers to help you pick out something for you and Tooru both.

It’s not until you move to take a seat, hoping that Tooru will get there before you have to try and cart his dinner back to the room that you hear the unmistakable scraping of a chair being dragged back beside you.

“Ya know, Iwaizumi never did end up telling us yer name,” a familiar voice states, settling down into the seat. “He did end up making me ‘n Bokuto run extra laps as punishment for knockin’ into ya, though.”

Out of habit, your fingers fiddle with the sleeve of your jacket – Tooru’s actually – warmth flooding your cheeks. He doesn’t sound pissed off by the fact, and you suppose he probably wouldn’t have sat down beside you if all he wanted was to pick a fight. 

“Oh, I’m… sorry?” It comes out sounding more like a question than anything else. 

He laughs at that, the sound surprisingly warm and pleasant. “Nah, not your fault. Iwa’s a hardass at the best of times.”

“Sounds like he hasn’t changed much since high school,” you muse.

Oikawa might’ve been Captain back then, but that never stopped Iwa from slapping him upside of the head whenever he did something particularly stupid. He was a hard ass, but he was also incredible at keeping the rest of the team in line and motivated, and he kept Tooru grounded. He kept you grounded. Aggressive, tough love was simply a part of that. 

You wonder distantly if his new team realizes just how lucky they are to have somebody like him in their corner.

“High school? Ya knew him back then?” he prods.

He’s a stranger. Not just a competitor, but ‘The Enemy’ just like Kageyama and Ushiwaka. Out of all the teams that Tooru might go up against during the games, you know that they’re the ones he’s most determined to defeat. And you don’t necessarily buy into the whole ‘destined rivals’ thing – Kageyama was never anything but polite to you, but you know you’re supposed to back your soulmate up on this. You know he’d be pissed to find you casually chatting away with any one of them, except maybe Hinata. 

Maybe.

But it’s nice just to indulge in a conversation – even meaningless small talk – with somebody who doesn’t know you as Tooru’s. You can’t help but relax a little, the tension easing from your shoulders, a small smile creeping across your face. 

“I’ve known Iwa since I was six years old. He’s one of my best friends.”

The man hums a little, his chair creaking as he leans back, “Really? He’s never mentioned ya.”

And it’s clear from the sharp intake of his breath that he regrets the words the moment they’re said, but instead of feeling offended, you simply laugh, the sound bubbling up before you can stop it. 

“It’s fine,” you say when he tries to backtrack. “Do you often have deep and meaningful’s with Iwa about his childhood friends?”

He snorts, “Yeah, point taken, I guess. So how come yer here then? Didn’t think they allowed cheerleaders in the village, even the cute ones.”

Something flutters in your stomach at his tone; it’s warm like honey, just a hint of teasing. He’s flirting, you realise, and in an instant you know you should shut it down. Harmless small talk is one thing, but you’re–

You have your soulmate. 

“What makes you think I’m not staff?” you ask instead.

“No uniform,” he counters, and you can’t argue with that. It’s not your fault that you can’t see what everybody’s wandering around wearing. “And you don’t really strike me as the ‘athlete’ type, no offense.”

You don’t really know how to respond to that, so you just shrug somewhat self consciously. He’s not wrong; you don’t really belong here, but you find yourself reluctant to tell him the truth.

The only reason you’re here is because Tooru cheated the system, because he couldn’t bear to be without you.

Or maybe because he knows how much of a mess you are without him. Blind and helpless without him to guide you, even here, back in the country you’d both left behind all those years ago.

“I’m here to support my soulmate,” you tell him instead, and it’s not entirely a lie. No matter what, you’ll always support Oikawa – here, back home, to whatever ends. That was the promise you’d made to each other long before you’d ever left Japan.

There’s a short pause, and you take the opportunity to turn back to the plate of food in front of you – you’d forgotten about it entirely. You half expect that he’ll take it as the perfect opportunity to politely bow out of the conversation. 

You might’ve been blind, but you’re not naive; you know exactly what athletes get up to after the sun goes down in the village. There’s a reason that your welcome packs were stuffed full of free condoms. 

And you’re not interested in that. You have Tooru and he has you. If that’s all that this guy is after; some quick, meaningless fuck, then–

“Volleyball?” he asks, and you almost roll your eyes.

He’s not wrong, of course he’s not, and you suppose considering your connection with Iwa it makes sense that he’d make that leap, but still. One track mind, all of them.

“If I tell you, you might not like me very much,” you say in lieu of an answer.

He leans closer, the chair creaking once more. “So I’m right.” He sounds so smug about it, you almost wanna tell him he’s wrong just to mess with him a little. “What position does he play?”

Not what team, what position. That, more than anything else, mattered to him – and again, you understood it. The pride players took in their position within the machine.

 “You first,” you shoot back instead, because you feel like you have a sneaking suspicion. 

And with a little huffing laugh, he confirms it, “Setter.”

Of course.

And the smile on your face tugs wider, a strange trill running through you, “Ah, and here I thought Kageyama,” you draw the name out, “was Japan’s starting setter.”

He scoffs, dragged in by your teasing jab, “Yer kiddin’, right? Tobio’s talented an’ all, but he ain’t half the setter I am.”

Cocky and smug. You wonder if he has the skills to back it up. Yet just as you open your mouth to pry further, you’re interrupted by a voice.

Several actually. 

“Talking shit again, Miya?”

“Who’s she?”

“Oh hey – Iwa’s friend!”

And your heart skips a beat, your body tensing as those voices close in, more chairs being pulled out, trays of food dumped on the table as his teammates settle down around you. It’s just a name, one name. It doesn’t mean anything, doesn’t–

“Atsumu, why don’t you shut– oh. Y/N, hey. Didn’t realise you'd be here. Isn’t the village restricted to athletes only?”

Kageyama’s blunt greeting isn’t intended to be antagonistic, but it washes over you regardless. You’re frozen, heart pounding, a sick, twisting feeling settling into your gut.

Atsumu, he’d said.

Miya Atsumu. 

Two words, and your world stops spinning. 

You’d promised him – Tooru – years ago that the name on your arm didn’t mean anything. It was all just a cruel cosmic mistake because from the moment you met him, you were his, and he was yours and nothing else mattered.

And you’d told yourself that, repeated it like a mantra until you started to believe it yourself. Because Tooru loved you, you were his soulmate and what kind of horrible fucking person would you be to take that gift, that bond and shove it back in his face.

Tooru isn’t perfect, and he’d freaked out and lied to you, but he’s your soulmate. 

The name on your arm didn’t matter, it didn’t matter that you didn’t know whose it was, because you had Tooru. It should have been his.

And you told yourself that for six months, until some blowout fight had Tooru storming out, you following in his footsteps. 

It was a stranger, some random passerby in the street. You can’t remember what prompted you to stop her and ask, why it suddenly mattered when Tooru had all but convinced you that it didn’t, but you had.

Miya Atsumu. The pronunciation had been unsure, her tongue clunky over the foreign syllables, but in that moment when you’d heard his name every lie you’d convinced yourself of had fallen apart.

It was like you’d been drowning without ever realising it, and the second you’d heard that name a hand was dragging you up to the surface and suddenly air was flooding your lungs.

Miya Atsumu.

There are voices surrounding you, somebody laughing uproariously, but it’s all just white noise. 

“Y/N,” a choked, hoarse whisper that shouldn’t have been heard, but it pierces you like a knife, cutting through everything else. It’s too much. 

On shaking legs you stand, knocking your chair back as you grab for your cane. 

The name hadn’t mattered, until you’d heard it. He hadn’t mattered, until he was standing right there in front of you.

“I– I have to go,” you mutter, not entirely sure if they heard you, or if they even cared. You leave your food untouched on the table, stumbling as you step back.

And again, you hear that whisper of your name. There’s a hand that reaches for you – his or somebody else’s you don’t know, you shrug it off regardless. “I have to go.”

Nobody stops you as you skitter back towards the entrance, but for once the cafeteria is silent. The moment you burst out through the double doors, the brisk, summer night air hits you like a slap, and you don't realise that your cheeks are wet with tears until the breeze cuts through, the damp skin prickling uncomfortably. 

And the sob that follows rips through your chest like a knife.

This isn’t what you wanted. 

If there’s a god out there, he must have a cruel sense of humour, because your name is being called again, and suddenly there’s a hand on your cheek brushing at your tears, an arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you close. “Cutie, what’s wrong?”

The scent of him, all citrus and summer, invades your nose as you clutch at him tighter. You can’t speak, can’t find the words to tell him, so you just squeeze your eyes shut and burrow into him. 

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he repeats, not asking this time. 

You take a deep, shuddering breath. “I want to go home,” you whisper, clutching at his jersey. “I wanna go home, Tooru.”

A kiss brushes against the crown of your head, and you almost miss the sound of footsteps pounding on the pavement behind you – at least until the interloper speaks.

“You–” Atsumu breaks off, his breath ragged and raw, and you don’t miss the way that Oikawa stiffens, his grip tightening, fingers digging in. “Yer my soulmate.”

Three simple words, and everything, everything just falls apart.

Tooru snarls, taking a step back and dragging you with him. “She’s not your anything, Miya. Fuck off.”

“You can’t leave me! You can’t - you’re mine!”

It hurts, the grip he has on you. He’s trembling, from rage or fear you honestly don’t know, but you can feel his heart pounding a vicious beat as his arms lock around you like a cage.

“Yeah, that’s why it’s my goddamn name on her arm. Let ‘er go, yer hurting her,” he snaps. 

“She’s my soulmate, so mind your own business and run off back home.”

You can’t breathe.

“Not when yer hurting her.”

It’s like the floor’s suddenly disappeared from beneath you, and you’re in free fall, hurtling back towards god knows what. Your head’s spinning, your legs feel like jelly, and if Tooru wasn’t holding you up against him, you’re not sure you’d still be standing. 

You can’t breathe. 

“Leave, right now,” he hisses. “She’s mine. She always has been, and always will be mine!”

You’d promised him that much, hadn’t you?

“Ya don’t scare me, and I don’t give a flying fuck if yer wearing her name on your arm. That’s my soulmate, and you’ll take yer fucking hands off ‘a her.”

You can’t breathe, not as the shouting gets louder and Tooru’s grip gets tighter. 

He takes another step back, pulling you with him, and another hiccuping sob catches in your throat. You try to speak, to stop this before it gets any worse, but the words won’t come–

“You’re hurting her!”

“I LOVE HER!” he screams. “I would never, ever hurt her!”

“T–Tooru, please…” you beg. It’s little more than a whisper, and neither one of them seems to hear it.

But somebody else does. 

“Hey, hey! What the fuck are you dumbasses doing?!” 

Iwa, always your second protector, your best and oldest friend, wastes no time in getting between the two of them, shoving Miya back.

“What is wrong with you both?!” he snaps, grabbing you by the wrist and ripping you from Oikawa. And you don’t fight it when he tugs you towards him, a protective arm wrapping around your waist. 

You cling to him, like a scared child with tears streaming down your face. 

“Iwa–”

“No, shut up. I don’t wanna hear a single word out of either one of you! Not a goddamn word!”

He doesn’t bother berating them in front of you, though you know that’ll come later. He doesn’t say anything to you either, but his hand doesn’t leave yours all the way back to his apartment. Not the one in the village, but the one just outside of the city.

“You knew, didn’t you?” you ask quietly when he drops his keys on the counter.

There’s a beat of silence, and he sighs. “Yeah, I knew.”

It’s hanging in the air between you, like a dark, stormy cloud about to unleash. “Iwa,” you whisper, your bottom lip trembling once more. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know,” he answers, as honestly as he can. “But you’re gonna stay here tonight, and tomorrow I’ll call Makki and Mattsun and they’ll come and take you back to Sendai for a little while if that’s what you want. You don’t have to see either one of those assholes, not until…” 

Not until you figure out how you’re supposed to make this impossible choice. 

He squeezes your shoulder as you sniffle. “It’s gonna be alright, whatever you decide to do.”

Neither one of you truly believes that, but what’s left to say?

He hugs you again before he leaves, makes you promise to call if you need him, but you both know you won’t.

Not tonight, not when he has other priorities. 

And then you’re alone, sitting on his couch surrounded by blankets with a mug of hot chocolate warming your hands. You know you should try to get some sleep, you’re exhausted, overwhelmed, but every time you close your eyes, you can’t stop thinking about it.

About the way Tooru’s voice had shook, how you’d smiled for Atsumu, that familiar warmth blooming in your chest when the two of you talked and you’d teased him.

And you remember how it was the day Tooru first told you that he loved you, the butterflies in your stomach the first time he’d kissed you, spinning you around and laughing as his lips met yours again and again and again. 

How he’d yelled and screamed and fallen apart in your arms that night, begging you not to leave him. 

You love him, for better or for worse, you love him. 

A loud knock echoes through the apartment, shaking you from your thoughts.

It’s almost 2am, and nobody but Iwa knows you’re here. Nobody should be knocking, and so you sit, frozen in the dark listening as your heart hammers uneasily.

One beat, then two, and then–

“I know you’re in there, just– just please. I need… I need–” he breaks off with a frustrated huff, and there’s a low thud, like his head’s fallen against the door. “Please,” he begs, quieter this time. 

There’s another thud.

“I need ya. Don’t lock me out, I’m beggin’.”

[amphxtrite]

pietro maximoff x fem! reader

warnings: being picked up, tooth-rotting fluff (literally)

summary: pietro goes on his first camping trip.

word count: 1.8k

a/n: thank you to @sweetandsunny for the writing prompts that helped me write this!! ly sunny <3

translations: printsessa- princess, krasivaya- beautiful, milashka- cutie, dorogoy- darling.

———————————————————————————

“Finally Friday.” You yawn to yourself as you collapse onto your bed, after a long week of helping out the team and training, it was time to kick back, relax and-

“Hello Printsessa!”

Oh right, you smirk to yourself, peaking one eye open to see your speedster boyfriend standing at your doorway, a giddy smile on his face.

“Hey Piet.” You murmur, allowing yourself a small smirk as his eyes bounce back and forth from the spot in bed beside you and your eyes, subtly asking for permission.

“Oh alright, come here.” You giggle, opening your arms and immediately feeling Pietro’s body next to your and his arms around your torso.

A content sigh leaves his lips.

“Dorogoy, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” He murmurs, closing his eyes and snuggling himself closer to your chest.

You smile to yourself and press a peck to Pietro’s blonde hair as fatigue takes over your form.

Now it was time to-

“Okay! If the clothes are off, put them back on, if the lips are locked, unlock them because dad’s here!” A voice suddenly yells, catching both you and Pietro off guard.

You yelp, and sit up suddenly to see your father covering his eyes and standing by the door he just kicked open.

“Ugh, open your eyes dad, we aren’t doing anything.” You groan, falling back down.

“Yes Clint, we were only sleeping!” Pietro chimes, suddenly across the room from you.

“Well it doesn’t matter, get your bag kid, we're going camping!” Clint cheers, throwing his fists in the air.

“And speedy can come too, why not.” Clint shrugs, causing Pietro’s eyes to widen. “I-I don’t want to intrude-”

“Dad, it’s Friday, we’ve been working all week, can’t we go another time?” You plead, finally sitting up.

“Sorry kiddo, but it’s Barton weekend number one, and your siblings and you agreed you would get the first weekend.” The archer smirks, looking at his daughter.

You glance at your calendar and sure enough the yearly event posted on the date was ‘weekend with dad.’

The little voice in your head cheers sarcastically.

“Fine, I’ll get packed.” You murmur, standing and grabbing your overnight bag from the floor.

“That’s the spirit!” Clint whoops.

“I should probably-”

Clint’s smile drops.

“Not so fast blondie, get your bags packed, you’re going.” Your father says sternly, patting the Avenger on the back on his way out of the room.

“You better listen, last time I told him no he didn’t make me waffles for six months.” You shudder.

Pietro’s jaw drops, “not the waffles.”

A blue blue went out and back into your room as Pietro returns with a bag slung over his shoulder and wearing clothes a little more suited for the wilderness.

You laugh and shake your head.

“Mind helping me Pietro?” You suggest.

“Of course, milashka.” He grins, pecking you on the forehead as he begins helping you, at a normal pace.

“So tell me again where we’re going, dad.” You question, readjusting your bag straps again as you walk further into the dense forest in front of you.

“A new spot I found while hiking the other day, great place to see the stars…” Your father responds, almost nervously.

“Oh no, I know that voice.” You groan, rolling your eyes as Pietro looks at you confused.

“What is it?” Sokovian asks.

“We’re lost.” You respond plainly, popping the ‘t.’

“We are not lost.” Clint sighs, moving his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“He brought us out here to die.” You shrug sarcastically.

“You brought us here to die?!” Pietro squeaks, misunderstanding the joke.

“Well, obviously.” Your dad jokes back, not knowing about Pietro’s state.

The platinum blonde man begins murmuring a silent prayer as you and your father continue to banter.

“Let future campers see us as a warning to halt before considering being active.” You sigh dramatically.

“Yes, and may they tell stories of us around the campfires and how great we were.” Clint continues.

Pietro’s brows were furrowed now, very confused by what was going on.

“I cannot tell if you two are being sarcastic or if we are really lost.” He mutters.

You look back over at your boyfriend and the look on his face was priceless, you begin bursting into a fit of laughter, your dad following shortly behind after he catches a glimpse of the mix of concern, fear and confusion slapped onto Pietro’s face

“O-Oh my gosh.” You laugh, placing your hand on Pietro’s arm. “You poor thing, you thought we were serious?” You coo, moving your hands up to Pietro’s cheeks as if he were the most innocent being alive. “Oh you’re adorable.”

“It’s a tradition for the kids, I gotta keep them on their toes.” Clint winks, patting Pietro on the back. “I almost had you this year.” The older Avenger sighs, placing his hand on your head and rustling your hair around.

“In your dreams old man, I saw it a mile away.” You smirk, rolling your eyes and joining your fingers with Pietro’s.

“Okay, okay. The site’s this way, come on.” Your father says, pointing in the direction you could hear rushing water from.

You nod and pull your boyfriend along beside you.

“You’ll get used to it Piet, my sibling’s and I were fooled every year until we started seeing the pattern.” You sigh, reminiscing in your memories of being scared to death as a kid.

“I can see why.” Pietro mutters, still slightly baffled at what had just happened.

Your lips pull even further up into a wide smile and you squeeze Pietro’s hand reassuringly.

“I’ll make sure dad doesn’t do that again, now hurry up, the sun’s setting and we haven’t even pitched our tent.” You laugh, pulling Pietro into a jog and catching up with your dad.

“That’ll do it.” Clint chuckles, stepping back and admiring his tent.

“Mines up too, dad!” You call, unzipping your tent and throwing your sleeping bag inside.

“How about you Pietro, how’s it-”

“Um, a little help?” A weak voice chimes from nearby.

You and your father turn around to see a mess of a tent behind you, beams sticking all over the place and a flustered Pietro standing in front of it, covering whatever he could.

“I-I’ve never been camping, I have only ever seen it on television.” He confesses, crossing his arms.

“Awe Pietro!” You coo, walking over to the pouting Sokovian and wrapping your arms around him.

“Here, hold this part up- Dad, you wanna get in on this?” You laugh.

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Clint chuckles, jogging over and holding up the other half of Pietro’s tent as you begin feeding the thin pole through the thin material, with all three of you, the tent went up quickly and as you stood back to admire your work Pietro giddily runs up and scoops you into his arms.

“You are amazing, krasivaya! absolutely amazing!” He beams, spinning you in circles.

“Hey Piet! I’m getting dizzy!” You giggle, holding onto his shoulders and silently praying he’d never put you down.

“Alright you two, stop it before I throw up.” Your father sighs, rolling his eyes and throwing a marshmallow, managing to nail it right on your forehead.

To your dismay, Pietro places you back on the ground and takes your hand as he walks over to the small fire Clint had gotten started.

You sit on one of the chairs set up and accept a small stick and a marshmallow from your dad.

You smirk and stab the fluffy white treat onto the end of your twig and place it above the fire.

Pietro follows your lead and loses focus as the flames seem to swallow his marshmallow whole.

You skillfully pull your marshmallow out as it turns a perfect golden brown, but Pietro isn’t so lucky.

He lifts his stick from the fire to find a small bonfire on the end, and his marshmallow begins to burn.

“Oh- Pietro blow it out!” You rush.

“Right.” He squeals, taking a deep breath and ridding of the fire, leaving him with a charred blob.

“Aw it’s okay Pietro, you can just-.”

The blonde doesn’t let you finish and instead places the whole marshmallow into his mouth.

“-throw it into the fire…”

Pietro’s face contorts from neutral, to disgust, to glee in seconds. His eyebrows raise in surprise and his feet tap happily.

“It’s delicious! a little bitter at first but the rest is perfect!” Pietro muses, quickly snagging the bag of soft treats from your dad’s lap and sticking a bunch onto the end of his stick.

You smile at Pietro’s childlike glee and place your own marshmallow into your mouth, savouring the sweet crust and melts inside in your mouth as your boyfriend ate his like a sweet, sticky kebab.

The sky turns dark and you teach Pietro to make the perfect marshmallow, tell him scary stories and make shadow puppets with the fire’s light just like your dad would do with you when you were young. Clint had grown tired of your couple's antics quickly and retired to his tent earlier, leaving you and Pietro alone.

“Piet, you’ve still got bits of marshmallow on your face.” You laugh, wiping the remnants of sticky sugar out of his goatee and off his nose. Pietro looks down at you lovingly and notices a tiny bit of marshmallow on your bottom lip, without hesitation, his fingers move to your chin and he tilts your head up to let your eyes meet.

Leaning down, your lips meet in a sweet kiss. The taste of marshmallow and charcoal bring smiles to both of your faces as Pietro deepens the kiss. The fire crackles quietly beside you as Pietro’s hands move to your back to pull you closer. Your fingers find their way into his soft hair, tugging ever so gently.

You both part for breath, resting your foreheads together as you catch your breaths.

“You had some marshmallow on your lip, dorogoy.” Pietro smiles sheepishly.

“You don’t say?” You giggle, pressing kisses onto the edges of Pietro’s mouth.

There’s a moment of silence as the two of you bask in each other’s warmth, Pietro’s hands sliding up and down your arms and your fingers tangling themselves in his wavy locks.

“Thank you Printsessa, this has been one of the best nights of my life.” Pietro sighs with a grin.

“One of them?” You joke, leaning into your boyfriend’s chest.

“Oh tsvesti, do you think I’ll ever forget the night we first met? Or our first kiss?” Pietro fires back playfully, wrapping his arms around your tightly and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Okay, you got me Pie.” You sigh, cuddling closer into him.

“I know, zefir.” Pietro smirks.

“Wait, what does that one mean?” You ask, smiling at the new nickname.

“It means marshmallow, Printsessa. I think it’s very fitting for you.” He smiles, evidently very proud of himself.

You laugh lightly and nod.

“It’s perfect.”

[angelofbloodlust]

Bunny (Billy Loomis x Reader)

A/N: Long time, no see, y’all 😳 sorry for my disappearance, I’ve been going through quite a lot but I’m happy to be back! I apologize if this story isn’t the best, it’s been a long time since I’ve written something like this and I’m still trying to get back in my groove- but if this ends up being well-received I’d be happy to try writing a part 2! <3 hope u guys enjoy!!

—————————————————

Your eyes scan over the backyard of the tan house sat in front of you once more, zoning in heavily on the blackened windows as your boots take hesitant steps forward towards the home of your fellow peer that you’ve been watching for weeks now. Shallow breaths escape you as your chest begins to pound, a flurry of both panicked and thrilled emotions swarming your stomach as your hand tightens on the butcher knife in your hold.

You were finally about to experience your first kill, after taking so many precautions and endless planning. You figured now would be the perfect time with the other murders that has had Woodsboro in chaos, the police department has already got themselves absorbed in solving the murders of Casey and Steve, if you manage to get through this unscathed you could easily let the other nutjob take the blame and get to work on your next plan.

But, that’s easier said than done.

You suck in a breath through your nostrils as you cautiously approach the cracked window ahead of you, the one you’ve witnessed be pushed open by the student’s mother each night before bed, just like clockwork. Though of course, you ensured that neither of her parents would be home that night, and you were glad they were dumb enough to trust their daughter enough to be able to defend herself with a psychopath on the loose.

Your teeth remain clenched as you slowly lift yourself up and climb through the window after pushing it open, being careful to not let your costume get caught and allowing your jaw to relax once you step from the marble of the countertops down to the wooden plank flooring below. Anxiousness to get upstairs and cut the girl’s head off stabs at you as your eyes find the stairs from your view out of the kitchen, though you force yourself to keep your pace as you take light steps on your path towards your goal, and feel relief at the fact none of the floorboards have creaked so far. Annoyance swiftly follows after as you notice the stairs aren’t carpeted, internally grumbling a couple curses while readying yourself to have to take your backup plan in case you accidentally make a noise and wake the girl up.

You make your way up slowly, begging in your mind for each step not to creak, and as you’ve made walked up all but 2 steps, you can’t help but feel a smug grin curl over your lips underneath your mask as you relish in the fact that everything’s gone so smoothly.

And immediately you regret that thought, once you and the short brunette standing in front of the bathroom door both freeze up in shock from the sight of the other.

“Shit, you’re not supposed to be awake!” You groan out, scowling at yourself once you process that you accidentally said that out loud.

Your body tenses as your words seem to have triggered the girl out of her state of shock, a blood-curling wail slipping from her lips at the sight of the knife in your hand before she runs to attempt scampering back into her bedroom to hide from you, sobs and screams pouring from her as you growl under your breath while bolting up the last couple steps and over the carpet towards her.

“Stop yelling!” You whine in panic from her loudness, before narrowing your eyes at your sudden idiocy with the situation. Why the fuck would she listen to you?!

A frustrated huff leaves you as she manages to slam the door on you, leaving you to violently push and slam on the now locked door while spilling out any indecent word your brain can think of in the moment. How could this have gone any worse? Your plan was all for nothing now!

Anxiety twirls in your gut as you look between the door and the stairs, having to make a quick decision as you’re sure the cops have been called by now and won’t take long to arrive. You exhale out, before making the final call to abandon the plan and speed back down the stairs, hopping over anything in your way as you head into the kitchen and back out the window.

Brief relief hits you as the soles of your shoes meet the grass again, taking a swift glance behind you while running for the patch of woods ahead of you. Your exhale out is interrupted as you suddenly collide into something, which you thought was a tree for a split second until the object ahead of you slips out a grunt once they stumble back slightly.

You look back forward in surprise, shock waving you as your vision is taken up by the same white and black mask morphed into a scream that you previously slipped on after making the discovery the other killer had worn it. A squeak leaves your lips as the man in front of you takes a rough grip on your upper arms, shifting around to face your towards the woods and push you forward as he gives a huff out.

“Go, I’m not gonna let you get us caught.” He hisses out, balling the back of your costume into his fist to ensure you keep moving as he leads you further way from the house while you struggle to wrap your head around what’s happening.

“H-How did you know I was-”

“We were in the area prepping, and we could hear that bitch’s scream from a mile away.” He huffs in response.

“Oh..” You mumble, embarrassment now filling your cheeks as he continues to guide you like you’re a disobedient child, wanting to pull from his grip but feeling unsure of how he might react. “...Did you say we?” You question suddenly as you shift your head to look back to him.

“Yes. No more questions, I think I have a right to be the one questioning you instead. Who the fuck are you?” He asks in a strict tone, and despite his mask covering his expression, you could somehow feel the rage radiating off of him at your presence.

You narrow your hidden eyes, “Why would I tell you that?? I don’t even know who you are!”

“I said no more questions.”

“I think it’s a pretty reasonable one if you’re gonna only ask questions I don’t wanna answer!”

“Fine, if that’s how you want to be then we can both remain anonymous. How about this, instead?” He hums, “Did you even kill her? I don’t see any blood on you.”

“..No.. She locked the door on me before I could grab her, I wanted to kill her in her sleep but she was awake once I got inside.” You admit in a sheepish mumble.

He scoffs, “A door stopped you?” You scowl as he chuckles in amusement at your actions. “I suppose that’s reasonable, you are pretty small. Wouldn’t expect you to be able to be able to break it down.” He teases, causing you to grumble out as you wiggle from his grip and turn to face him.

“Hey, it was my first time, and I was panicking! Take it easy on me.” You demand with a pout.

He crosses his arms as he looks down to you, “Tsk, you tried to do it all on your own? No wonder you failed.”

“I spent months planning it, I thought I would’ve done well..” Your voice cracks through your sentence, leaving you to attempt sighing away your urge to cry while you turn back to keep walking, your eyes sticking down to watch your steps while the man with you gives an exhale as he follows at your side.

“Alright, alright, I’ll quit being so harsh. But it takes someone naturally skilled to be able to do it on their own, you know? You think you have everything you need, but even the littlest thing that doesn’t go to plan can fuck it all up. Maybe for you, you just need a bit of teaching to make sure you’re ready for anything.” He shrugs.

“Are you.. offering to help me?” You question gently through the mix of shock and confusion in your chest as to why this stranger is willing to take you under his wing, tilting your head slightly up to him.

“Maybe. But you need to prove that you’re serious about this.”

You begin to question him on how you can prove it, before stopping at the beginning of your sentence once the two of you cross through the patch of woods and up to a parked car on the lone street in front of you. An unsure sensation fills your gut as he makes you stay back while he walks over to the driver’s side window, and you begin to question to yourself if this might really be a safe decision to go with the psychopaths that you were about to frame.. But at the same time, this might be your real chance to be able to finally learn the proper ways of murder.

Soon enough, he walks back over to you and gestures to your mask. “To go any further with this, I need to see your face if you’re going to see ours. It’s only fair.” He requests you in a calm tone, and you hesitate as you frown as you pick up sudden worried thoughts. What if he just wanted to be able to rat you out and let you take blame for everything?

“Hey, you know you haven’t really proved your loyalty to me, either.. What if-”

You freeze as his hand reaches up for his own mask, watching him pull it off to reveal his cold, yet neutral expression as the guy you recognize to be Billy Loomis from your school stands in front of you. Your face reddens at the sight, you know him enough about him to have a thorough crush on him, though you suppose you didn’t know him quite enough to have realized that part of the reason you had been so drawn to him was the fact you were more alike than you had known.

“I’m risking everything for this. Do you know how much this could fuck up everything with us letting you in?” He sighs, and you watch as his lips form in a displeased pout. “The last thing I want is you getting caught doing this dumb shit, and if you’re going to steal our costume you at least need to not act like a moron while you’re in it.” He huffs with narrowed eyes.

“God- fuck, whatever. If you guys end up killing me, I have nothing to lose.” You grumble as you pull off your mask, holding your own pout while he takes up a smirk while looking you over.

“Just as cute as I expected you to be, bunny.” He purrs out in a playful tone, which causes you to give him a questioning expression through your heated cheeks at the nickname.

“Bunny?”

“You’re small, cute and quick. Like a bunny.” He grins.

“I will actually deck you if you call me that again.” You hiss out while he starts to lead you towards the car.

“No, you won’t. I could tell you liked it.” He chimes in a proud tone, laughing out once you reach to smack his arm with your face on fire.

“Shut your mouth, Loomis! You’re so annoying!” You whine as your voice pitches up with your embarrassment.

“Get your ass in the car, Y/N.” He snorts out as he nudges you towards the backseat.

“..You know my name?”

“You’re in my Physics class. I recognize you.” He chuckles gently, flashing you a brief smile before slipping into the passenger’s seat.

“Oh.” You hum, feeling content as you feel joy at the fact that he recognizes you, holding your own smile as you get into the back of the car before pausing once Stu Macher shoots you a grin from the driver’s seat.

“Hey, Y/N! Billy says you wanna join us, that true?” He asks through his classic happy tone, starting up the car while you manage to get yourself to nod as you confirm to yourself that the man you had only ever expected to be the class clown to be Billy’s partner in crime, though you weren’t entirely sure why you were caught off guard with the insane amount of loyalty Stu’s always shown to Billy over the years you’ve watched them be friends.

“Yeah.. Uh, sorry, I wasn’t expecting to see you. Didn’t think you were this kinda guy.” You snicker.

He gives an unbothered shrug, “Well, people always have their secrets, don’t they?” He chuckles, causing you to quirk an eyebrow once he flashes a grin over to Billy and laughing out once he smacks his shoulder in a manner to tell him to shut up. Stu smiles back at you again through the rear-view mirror, “It’s nice to have ya join us, though. I’m sure it’ll be real fun for the three of us.” He purrs, and you can’t help but get an unsettling feeling from the tinge of malice in his smirk, which you couldn’t tell if it was meant to be towards you.

You could only hope not.

[tommyspeakycap]

hi! can you write some dad!andyrobertson please?! I love your writing so much!! <333 something about him with a daughter please 💕 DILF DILF DILF !

oh he's 100% a dilf - and here you go!

a fathers woe

andy struggles with the prospect of his baby growing up as the little girl asks if she can get married

“Daddy?” Andy heard his daughters sweet little voice, “Can i ask you a question.” Andy knows immediately there is another question set to follow, but he cannot help himself from the typical dad response that falls out his lips before he can stop it. “You just did, love.”

You snigger, shaking your head as you dip the little nail painting brush back into the pot before returning it to your daughters foot to finish painting the last of her toes bright pink per her request. “That’s not funny, daddy.” She scolds, frowning. Andy swallows his laughs, nodding his head and holding his hands up in apology. That seems enough for your daughter, who turns back to her sticker book as Andy and you share a look with silent laughter. “Don’t touch them for five minutes.” You instruct, closing the nail polish and kissing your daughters head.

“Course you can ask me a question, lovely. Go on?” Andy hums after giving you a kick kiss before you disappear upstairs. Andy back to grating cheese over his homemade pizza as he hears his daughter crunch her way through the apple slices in her bowl as she lays on her front on the large marble top of the kitchen island, head propped up by her elbows. “Why did you get married to mummy?” She asks sweetly, not looking up at him as she speaks. Mila continues to colour in her little liverpool colouring book, only occasionally stopping to stick on a coloured or sparkly sticker over Trent Alexander-Arnold’s head. Andy purses his lips, tilting his head slightly in thought as he pushes the two trays of pizza’s into the huge oven.

“Because we love each other very much.” Andy replies casually, shrugging as does. He isn’t exactly sure where the question has come from, but he’s sure he’ll be soon to find out considering she’s very young and doesn’t tend to beat around the bush at all. “Is that all?” She asks curiously. Andy mocks hurt with a quirked eyebrow and a scoff that his daughter doesn’t pick up on. With his back pressed against the kitchen counter and ankles crossed over each other, he observed his little girl with the same level of curiosity she had in her question.

“Well, yeah. People gets married for lots of different reason. Me and your mum wanted to be husband and wife, we love each other very much and there’s lots of…” Andy pauses, trying to think of a way to explain the legal benefits of marriage to Mila without completely confusing her young mind. “Homework.” He concludes, somewhat triumphantly proud of his quick thinking. “Adults have lots of homework to do to buy houses and stuff like that. Sometimes that’s easier too when you’re married.” He tries to explain, watching her nod along. Her reception school homework is nothing difficult of course, but she doesn’t enjoy it and it’s difficult to her, so she grasps the concept generally. “But you should never marry anyone just to make your homework easier.” He adds sternly. “You should only marry someone you love.”

“Okay.” She nods, little eyebrows still furrowed. “So does that mean i can marry-”

“No.” Andy interrupts firmly, standing up straight with an immediate frown set into his features. Mila protests with a pout, “But daddy you didn’t let me finish!”

“Still no.” He retorts, offering her a tight lipped smile. “That’s rude, daddy.” Mila chides, sitting up to cross her legs in a basket and frown at her dad in the very same way he’s frowning at her. “Boys are rude.” Andy quips, “That’s why you should never marry one.”

“Mummy married you?” She challenges, cocking one eyebrow and crossing her little arms.

“That’s different.” Andy brushes off, turning away from his daughter to busy himself with sweeping the grated cheese off the counter with one hand into his other hand to flick it into the bin. “How?” Mila protests, making him roll his eyes with his back to her. She is just like you; persistent, usually right and a true powerhouse. She doesn’t give up easily and she almost never backs down. She’s you with the very best of his flaws sprinkled through. And his volume. She is just as loud as he is, much to your dismay.

“Because me and your mum love each other.” Andy says. “Well i love-”

“No you don’t.”

“Daddy you didn’t let me finish! How do you know?” She argues, clearly getting frustrated a little at her usually very easygoing dad. “Because you’re too young.” He responds, seemingly simply.

“You’re not being very kind, daddy.” She grumbles, evidently irritated. “I’m telling mummy.” She slides to the edge of the island countertop, clambering down onto the her little stool before leaping gracelessly down and running off yelling out for you.

Andy sighs to himself, dropping his head into his hands as he slumps down at the island on one of the comfortable stools. He can hear her voice and yours, but not what either of you are saying until it goes quiet and you both appear again the doorway. The little girl year old holds onto your hand tightly.

“What do we say when we haven’t been very kind, Andy?” You prompt, eyebrows raised and an ever so slightly teasing glint in your eyes that’s barely suppressed on the lips that fight a smirk. “I’m sorry, Mila.” Andy apologises, standing off his seat to crouch down on one knee. “Could i give you a hug to say how sorry i am for not listening to you properly and not answering your questions nicely?”

The little girl nods, letting go of your hands to shuffle over to her dad, allowing him to engulf her little body against his large one, almost completely shrouding her from your view. After a moment, he lifts her up and places her back on the kitchen island where she was sitting.

“Daddy was upset because you’re my little girl and you growing up is scary for me to think about.” He admits, swallowing thickly. You and Andy have been practicing a very honest manor of parenting. You sometimes feel let down by the childhood you had and you want to give her better, making sure she has emotional stability and the opportunity to know she can share her feelings whenever. Mistakes will happen, it’s how we respond to them that is important. You want her to be healthy physically and emotionally. It’s one of the most important parts of being a parent, in your opinion.

“It’s okay.” Mila replies sweetly, pressing a little kiss to his cheek. “I don’t want to marry any boys anyway. Mummy reminded me how gross they are. You’re the only boy i love daddy.” She shrugs, smiling like the little angel she truly is. “Good. Now come here.” Andy pulls her back into his arms, turning to you to give you a wide eyed look and a mouthed “thank you!”

She wriggles from his arms after he attempted to press kisses all over her and runs off giggling to hide from him elsewhere in the house and probably look for her soft football; the only one that’s allowed indoors after you smashed a lamp with one of Andy’s footballs and both you and Mila agreed to tell him it was the dog who broke said lamp with the football.

“You’re a lifesaver.” Andy groans as he walks towards you, wrapping his arms right around you and he pressing his lips onto yours firmly. “Mhm, i think i bought you a few more months.” You giggle, your nose bumping against his as he laughs along with you. He groans again, burying his head in your shoulder as your hand gently scratches the nape of his neck comfortingly. “Wanna make another?” He mumbles, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder through your hoodie.

“Cheeky bastard,” you jab your thumb into his ribcage slightly, words spoken between gentle laughter as you shake your head. “Seriously though?” He retorts, pulling back a bit to rest both his hands on your waist. He rests his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as he takes in your proximity and natural scent contently. “Let’s make another. We could try for a boy?”

“It doesn’t really work like that.” You giggle, eyes crinkling with your smile. Andy rolls his eyes playfully. “So?” He shrugs, pecking his lips against yours again, “You in?”

You shake your head, pressing your lips against him only broken by your smile. “Course i’m in and oi!” You swat at his wandering hand, dipping beneath the waistband of your leggings, “Not right this second you filthy man!”

Andy throws his head back with a loud, playful groan that’s broken up by his laughter when he heads you giggling before you press a gentle kiss to his exposed neck. “I love you.” You smile, watching his eyes sparkle as he turns his face back to you. “Yeah yeah yeah, i love you too.”

“Rude, daddy!” Mila chimes as she appears in the kitchen again, only having heard the end of he conversation.

“Sorry,” the scolded man retorts, immediately knowing the correction his daughter wants him to make to his prior words to you; “I love you more.”

Mila nods, smiling up at you clearly proud of her intervention for her very adored mother in the name of girl power, bumping her little fist against yours before she turns back to her dad, who wouldn’t change anything about this moment for the world, to give him a very tight lipped response.

“Much better daddy. Don’t let it happen again.”

[jiminrings]

what happened to mc after that?? JUNGKOOK I WILL WHOOP YO FUCKING ASS

cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D

the aftermath of stem koo breaking senior!y/n's heart

"do you need anything from us?"

yoongi asks you for the fifth time in the twenty minutes you've been home, heart breaking from the inside out when you haven't moved a single inch

he is begging that the thing you need from him and jin is to go beat j*ngkook up

HE CAN'T EVEN SAY HIS NAME WITHOUT BEING ANGRY AT HIM!!!!!!!

anything. anything to atleast make you sleep in peace tonight.

or them honestly,, either way

your body's facing the backrest of the couch and maybe that's for the better, because that way, seokjin won't feel the need to cry looking at the coldest person he's known to be openly vulnerable

you're still wearing your jersey!!! your stained dirty jersey that you've been in for the past three hours and the reason that it's still wet was that you've been using it to wipe your tears all the way to the dorm

"no. i'll be alright."

you mumble for the fifth time out of the five times you've been asked, and yoongi just has to grapple at his fist because he knows that being frustrated wouldn't help

you are the fURTHEST thing from okay

to be honest, it was only a miracle that you told the two of them what happened in the first place

it was in between sobs that you asked them why they were friends with you and they couldn't be anymore dumbfounded

it was in between violent tears that you mentioned hyeji that seokjin looked for a box of tissues because you've been intentionally rubbing your eyes raw

it was in between heaving that you said that no one wants to go the extra mile for me that yoongi started holding your cheeks and trying to get you to breathe with him in his panic too

it was in between hiccups that you uttered that no one wants to walk me home and that's when both of yoongi's and seokjin's throats started tightening, the dots hazy yet aligning nonetheless

it was in silence when you told that jungkook said that no one likes me, and that's when out of the three of you in the room – you're the one who's the calmest.

"okay. i'll bring you a blanket."

yoongi leaves it at that, standing from his spot on the floor to walk over to the kitchen where the blankets cLEARLY aren't there

no one really prepared yoongs for this

no one really is

there isn't a manual on how to act when the dearest friend that you have is crying their guts out for the first time

he can't explain his close bond with you and he's always seen you as his platonic girlfriend!!! his platonic girlfriend who has a bond with him that's closer than a sister's, more understanding than a mother's, and the utter admiration more than a friend's

you r literally yoongi's (platonic) soulmate and he would die on that hill

he would rather subject himself to torture via having to stay in a freshman's dorm equipped with the de facto led strip lights everyday!!! every single day, than to see you like this :(((

"what do you have on the bitch?" yoongi doesn't spare his words when he sits on the kitchen stool next to jin's figure

the dude is sTANDING and that means business

jin doesn't feel a single ounce of regret fetching his work laptop and scrolling through the files and tabs he has on every single student on campus, eyes only looking for one lee hyeji that's contributed to your anguish rn

jungkook is atleast 3/4 in this equation and seokjin will get to him of course

no one makes his emotional support best friend cry and nOT pay the consequences for it!!!!

in another life, vincenzo cassano's character is based on seokjin and the events in his life that definitely happened >:(

"she's daddy's money. can't fucking believe that sHE'S representing the school," he sighs in genuine annoyance, but not loud enough to pique your attention as he turns the screen so yoongi could clearly see her headshots, "must be a diversity hire. every university needs a fucking bimbo, apparently."

you see,,, yoongi would've SNORTED at that but now is not the time!!! he is still planning discreet retribution to avenge you!!!!

jin lets yoongi look at hyeji's entire file, wanting to get even the smallest bits even if the information he's taking in is against his will

he'll immediately delete whatever he learns about her right after it's served its purpose

"just messaged the faculty groupchat," seokjin himself didn't imagine the words coming out from his lips determinedly, but he knows that he's willing to do anything for the sake of this, "been crushing on jeon ever since the start of last semester. philosophy professor thinks it's because he once saw jungkook lending her a pen when they were in the topic of soulmates."

jesus christ

now THAT'S just annoying ://

this

whatever this is

seokjin and yoongi don't know what they're digging all this information for

they don't know what this unspoken plan is for, or if they even have a plan in the first place

if jin were to tell the faculty gc about this???

absolute mayhem

but he knows for a fact that they'd hate star student jungkook easily within a tap of a finger

the philosophy prof would lose all sense of rationality and reasoning and INSTANTLY point to jungkook as an asshole!!! no questions asked!!!! no elaborations!!!!

"i could get jeon eliminated from all the academic listings he's in."

jin pipes in at the silence that he and yoongi share, both listless in this situation that they never expected to encounter with you

"i could always spread a rumor and make him unlikeable."

yoongi toys with the rings that he wears, a heavy exhale tearing away from him

they could think of a thousand other ways to get back at jungkook!!! they literally can

seokjin knows a contract guy who leaves shredded paper with his contract's initials written on red ink (for a base fee of three dollars, he can switch up the ink for you!!!) right next to their side on the bed

yoongi knows a guy whose modus operandi is to discreetly follow people, have subliminals playing in the background (for an extra fee of ten dollars, he'll use wireless bass-boosted speakers), and continue doing so until the desired message is achieved!!!!

none of the people they have connections to could employ the same amount of pain he's caused on you

there's literally nothing that could hit home with jungkook besides you.

but there's no way to do that and even in your state of anger and sadness tHEN utter vulnerability, you can't even really think of hurting jungkook in the way he did

because you know and yoongi knows and seokjin knows and everyone knows that you aren't the type to wish ill

you admit that sometimes you're unavailable but you don't want that to be an asshole-reason to make everyone else around you suffer in the same way you do

the people around you aren't your shock absorbers!!!! that's why you hang out a teddy bear on your doorknob when you're mad so that neither yoongi or jin would have the possibility to be caught in your rage

that's why you call for a break when your soccer team is out of their game and make everyone drink their electrolytes before they speak to you!!!!

that's why you have the old heart of your even older build-a-bear stuffie in your pocket, one of the only reminders that your childhood even happened, one that you'd squeeze between your fingers in any remotely anxious instances that you find yourself in

jungkook's words hit home and it put you into a spiral if you even had one in the first place

your parents divorced when you were young and it's just that,,, no one from the two of them wanted you because you were the reminder of the other parent

you're a place marker for when a commitment started and ended and god did it make you grow up quickly

your aunt raised you!!!! she's an angel and she's the maternal figure in your life that you'd always be grateful for

you love her all the same and as much as you didn't wanna relate yourself to your parents in the same way that they don't, the feelings of being unliked hit you ever so often

lol it's quite a dashing mindset you have but you can't see any other interpretation you should employ

you leave before they could leave you.

it's not really as dramatic as it sounds

BUT IT COULD BE

there's always obligatory groupchats for projects and you're the first one to leave it instead of awkwardly waiting out for the conversation to dwindle and then leave one by one

when you and yoongi argue, you leave before he attempts to get the last word in

when jin is about to ask if you want to split the bill, you're already putting more than half of your share on the table

it's a nagging feeling of not wanting be unwanted in every situation you're in, but you aren't all that sure of wHAT you'd do to be liked

the only thing you could think of are lunchboxes, and even that gets taken away from you.

does no one really like you??

you're shifting in your position before you know it and the lone sound makes jin and yoongs come to your side immediately, looking at you in concern

you're looking up and you could just fEEL your eyes are puffy and even the light's hurting them

"i need to sleep."

"o-oh! m'kay, sure. i'll carry you to bed, let's go," seokjin wastes no time in responding, about to hook his arms underneath you when you repeat yourself again

you only chuckle but it's the driest and most painful they've ever heard, wincing when they can hear how breathless it was

"no. i mean i need to sleep."

jin blinks once

yoongi blinks twice

OH

right

they get it now

you don't want to sleep, and you really can't, but you need it

"i'll get it!!" jin volunteers to grab what you need, leaving yoongi with you

oh god you could fEEL that he's going to cry

what a big baby ://

seokjin comes bearing the joint :D

he's about to light it for you because he knows that three specific short hits would lull you to slumber then knock you out cold for like a day lmao

he minored in chemistry actually but he cAN'T explain shit on why that's your body's reaction

you're all-good for literally anything besides three short hits lmao

yoongi was about to scold jin because he lights it and tHEN he's the one who takes the first drag, but there's an assuring wave of his hand

how romantic

jin just blew you a heart

<3

they can't get anything from you besides the slight crinkling from your eyes but they don't mind at all — your eyes are atleast one degree less sad

you take your turn and even pass it to yoongi but he rEFUSES,,,,, not the least bit dejected that he decided not to because he wants to watch over you instead and not see every inanimate object with cartoon eyes on them while watching over you

"bake her a cookie if in case she suddenly gets hungry in the middle of her sleep. sneak a carrot in it or something," jin reminds yoongi and he's sERIOUS about the recipe, holding you in tow as he makes the way to your room

yoongi's about to break out the bowls, freezing in his steps when he hears the doorbell frantically ring

oh god

the ONE time that they didn't plug the door with a wet towel and now it's probably the hall manager outside about to do an inspection

that is not..... the hall monitor

that is a fucking asshole

jungkook's been pacing on his heels, his knocking loud enough to wake up the entire hallway at this point

he's SWEATING and he's not even wearing his hoodie

the door finally opens and the words start tumbling out of his mouth

"good evening. i-i wanna explain myself and-..."

that is not,,,,, you

it's his senior that he's disrespected probably too many times

yoongi leans to the door, a sickeningly sweet smile on his face that the junior's never seen before

"you ever had a sandwich before, jungkook?"

"w-what?"

the younger boy stammers, his eyes following yoongi's actions of looking behind him out of worry and then going outside to join him by closing the door softly without noise

yoongi only snorts, not even sure if he's up for conversation

"hyeji's never packed you a sandwich before?"

jungkook pales at the mention, mouth drying when he sees yoongi bring up the soft smile that doesn't comfort him at all

"the one that's all knuckle?"

[kaunis-sielu]

Fire Dogs: 4

It turns out that you didn’t break anything just deeply bruised. Steve brings you home and you feel terrible that he’s wasted his whole night on you and your drama.

“Do you wanna stop and pick up something to eat?”

“No, I’ve got dinner planned. As long as you’re okay waiting for dinner.”

“You’re supposed to take it easy.” He reminds you gently.

“Yea, it’s just Spaghetti. Easy.”

“Come on Fawn, you heard Dr. May, you have to take it easy.”

“I’m right handed, I’ll be fine to put some noodles into hot water and heat some sauce.” You argue and he sighs heavily as he slows to a stop at a stoplight.

“Can you just humor me for one night?” He asks giving you some serious puppy dog eyes. You feel that little prickle of an Alpha command but he doesn’t, like he’d promised.

“Fine. But you don’t get to pay.”

“Woah woah. Now that’s not the deal.”

“That’s the deal.” You argue and Steve glances over at you with an affectionate glare.

“Fine. Has anyone ever told you you’re bossy for an Omega?” He sighs heavily before asking, “What do you want?”

You end up picking up burgers at a little takeout place called Stan’s and eating them at home. Dinner with Steve is fun. He’s smart and charming and you enjoy spending time with him. When you’re done with dinner you grab your Stark Pad and head up to your room. You hear Steve in the shower and you manage to struggle out of your shirt and into your pajamas. You’re supposed to take some painkillers but you’ve got to be up for Sam in a few hours so you don’t.

You’re in way more pain when you wake up at 3:30. You wrap your robe around yourself and open your door. Much to your surprise both Steve and Sam are waiting outside your door.

“You owe me twenty bucks.” Steve says uncrossing one of his arms and holding an open hand out to Sam who pulls his wallet out and slams a twenty into Steve’s hand.

“Um, what?” You ask blinking at the two.

“I bet Sam that you’d be up to make him breakfast and something for Bucky before he goes to bed. Which also means that you didn’t take any pain meds.”

“I’m fine Steve.” You tell him trying to skirt past him.

“Uh, uh, uh Honey.” He pauses you with an arm in front of you, “I know you asked me not to but I wanna know why you need to do this? I just want what’s best for you.” You know he’s talking about not Alpha commanding you, part of it is a simple answer, the other part, not so much.

“Steve, I can’t just not do anything. Okay? I can’t.” You attempt to reason with him, “You guys are out there laying down your lives to help protect my home. I need to do something!” He studies you silently for a moment, just long enough where you’re almost uncomfortable.

“Okay Omega, but the second it’s too much take a break okay? And maybe take half of one of the pills Dr. May gave you. Just to help with the swelling.” He called you Omega again, not that you can lie about it now that Grant had called you an Omega bitch right in front of him. When Steve calls you Omega it’s, nice.

“Will you cut them in half for me before you go? I don’t have much range of motion in my left arm yet.” You ask softly, you have this weird feeling he might like to help take care of you as much as you like helping care for him, Sam and Bucky.

“Yea, I’ll cut one now and do the rest before I head out. If you’re too tired to get up with me please don’t okay?” You nod then follow him down the stairs.

Sam’s breakfast, and Bucky’s dinner, is a little more difficult with your aching body but if Steve notices any of your wincing he thankfully doesn’t say anything. You take the half pill that he offers then with Cooper on your heels trudge back upstairs. It takes you longer to get comfortable this time, you’re still awake when Steve and Bucky come to bed. You hear them talking quietly, you can’t really make out what they’re saying but Steve sounds annoyed. You can feel his irritation through the door and you’re worried you’ve done something. Hopefully you didn’t get him into any trouble with the other firefighters for leaving early.

You end up falling into a half sleep as the sun rises in the sky. You still hear everything going on around you but you can’t react, it’s a terrible way to sleep. You’re pretty sure you hear Steve open the door to check on you at some point, his scent invading the room when he cracks the door open. You relax further and finally fall into a restful sleep.

You wake up around one, Cooper is still laying at your feet when you stretch but he hops down and makes his way to the door with a wagging tail. You groan softly as you sit up, then make your way slowly to the door. You let Cooper out then struggle into your robe your arm aching. You make your way down to the kitchen to feed Cooper and find your bottle of pills full of halves. It makes you smile to see that Steve had taken the time to cut them, you take two of the halves, you’re not going anywhere today so you don’t need to be especially awake.

You do some drawing for your new book, it’s almost done and you couldn’t be more excited. Your deadline is in three days and with only two pages left to draw you’re feeling pretty good about everything. You’ve even decided what your next book is gonna be about, the therapy dogs that are coming in for the firefighters. You won’t use Cooper or any of the other dogs real names but you’re going to share the story.

You must fall asleep on the couch, when you wake Sam is in the kitchen humming away as he cooks. A warm ice pack falls off of your shoulder as you sit up, you grab it then move slowly to your feet. When you wander into the kitchen Sam gives you a broad smile,

“Mornin’ sleeping beauty. How do you feel?”

“Sore. Do you want me to take over?”

“Nah, Fawn. Buck said you didn’t even move when he let Cooper out and left. He did make sure you were breathing and put the ice on your shoulder. He said he wants to check it if you’re okay with that tomorrow before he leaves.”

“It’s just a deep bruise.”

“Yes but our Alpha told us to take care of you so we will.”

“Your Alpha? But you’re all Alphas?”

“Steve is a True Alpha.” Sam explains, “I thought he’d told you.”

“No, so he’s like, the leader of your pack?”

“Exactly.”

“What exactly does that mean?”

“He’s the boss.” Sam says with a shrug, “you like gumbo?”

“Can he Alpha command anyone?”

“Yea, but he wouldn’t. Not without good reason.” You’re almost positive that Steve must’ve Alpha commanded Grant.

“But he can.”

“Yes, why?”

“I think he did.”

“Who?”

“I mean, other than me. I think he Alpha commanded one of the doctors at the ER.” When Sam glances at you over his shoulder you look down at the warm ice pack you’re still holding. “Grant Ward, he’s my ex. He wanted to mate me but I just couldn’t, and he’s been making my life hard ever since.”

“You’re not a Beta are you.” Sam says softly and you look up at him in surprise.

“What do you mean?”

“Steve has been off, like he’s protecting an Omega but Bucky and I couldn’t figure it out because you smell like a Beta.”

“Please don’t say anything. If the town finds out I’m going to have every stupid Alpha at my door.”

“Not with Steve here you won’t.”

“You’re not going to be here forever. When you leave they’ll be all over me.” You tell him hurrying to his side, “Please don’t say anything!”

“I won’t, none of us will.” He promises and you give his arm an appreciative squeeze.

“Thanks Sam. And I do like Gumbo, thank you for cooking.”

“Of course Fawn. If you wanna keep working on your book I can let you know when the food is done.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yup.” So you do as he says and get back to work on your book. You’re on the last page when you hear him call for you.

“Thank you again for cooking. It smells amazing.”

“If I let Carol cook we’d both die.”

“She’s not much of a cook?”

“No, not at all.��� He admits with a laugh, “I love the woman but she can’t cook.”

“Is it hard being in an Alpha-Alpha pair?”

“I don’t think so, but it’s definitely a choice we make to make it work.”

“Sorry, that was a very personal question.”

“I don’t mind, I’d imagine things are pretty traditional here.” You nod, “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Sure.”

“Why aren’t you mated?”

“I’ve dated but after the shit with Grant I think I’m just scared. All the Alphas around here want an Omega and they think I’m a Beta so they don’t really look my way.”

“Are you just waiting for an Alpha?”

“No, if I met the right Beta that would be fine too.”

“Which of us smells best?”

“Nope,” you tell him with a laugh, “I’m not going there.”

“I had to try.” He tells you with a grin of his own.

“All I’ll say is that none of you smell bad. All comforting.”

“Good.” Sam says with a nod and you finish the meal in comfortable conversation. You shoo him out of the kitchen when you’re both done. Insisting that he go to bed so he’s rested for his morning shift. You take another half of a pain pill then start doing the dishes. You finish your last drawing then send everything to your publisher so they can check it over. By the time that’s done it’s nearly ten and Steve should be home soon.

You get off the couch and follow Cooper to the back door. When you open it Coop doesn’t move, just stares out into the darkness.

“In or out Coop.” You tell him and he ambles out into the yard. You close the door and head back to the kitchen to grab a bowl of Gumbo to start heating for Steve. You go back to the back door and when you open it you find Cooper isn’t alone in the backyard.

“Hi Omega.”

“What.” You gasp as Brock moves closer to your house. “Cooper!”

“I think he got out.”

“What? Cooper!” You call shutting the door in Brock’s face you lock it and hurry into the living room. The front door opens and Steve comes in, Cooper trailing behind him. “Oh, oh thank god. Oh Steve thank you.”

“He was hanging out in the front. How did he get out?”

“I don’t know.” Steve tenses, “Brock is out back. He apparently knows I’m an Omega.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” He goes to go past you and upstairs when you catch his wrist with your right hand.

“No! Please make him go away. I don’t know how he found out I was an Omega but he did. I don’t want him here Steve.”

“You want him gone?”

“Please Alpha.” You whisper and Steve nods before going to the back of the house.

Tag list:

@memyselfandmaddox @thefanficfaerie @patzammit @dsakita @dramadreamer14 @killcomet @thesassmisstress @andahugaroundtheneck @loving-life-my-way @thefridgeismybestie @dumblani @im-just-another-monster @mywinterwolf @giggleberts @biskwitmamaw @geeksareunique @paintballkid711 @lumar014 @also-fangirlinsweden @connie326 @inkedaztec @eralen @valsworldofcreativity @strangersstranger @blackwidownat2814

[thestarrynightslover]

Babe, huh?

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Voight!Reader

Word count: 2,097

Warnings: A little angst (but more in a comical way, I think).

Summary: Jay and the reader have been going out for some time when he spots her happily chatting with Sergeant Platt at the district's front desk. He's happily surprised to see her there, but there's one thing she had been holding back from telling him: who her dad is.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the One Chicago shows, or its characters, also not associated with it in any way or know anyone involved with it.

A/N: I think that this could have turned out a lot better than it did. But I think it isn't too bad either.

Also, I wanna thank y’all for the amount support that I’ve been getting on my fics! That really means the world to me, guys!! 💕

(y/n) = (your name) (y/l/n) = (your last name) (y/n/n) = (your nickname)

| masterlist |

It was an unusually sunny day in Chicago when you left work that noon. You didn’t always go out on your lunch breaks, preferring to just grab something on the machines scattered across the office, but on that Wednesday you’d told your dad that you two would meet for a father-daughter date. And that really was all you were thinking about, as you walked up the steps of the small staircase in front of the 21st District.

“Hey, Trudy!” You greeted the desk sergeant, who had been a friend of your family for as long as you could remember.

“Hi, (y/n/n)! What a surprise to see you here!” She told you, a huge smile on her face. “A nice surprise, for a change!” Platt stated, looking sharply at a younger woman who was standing at the corner of the counter, probably filling out some paperwork.

“Ah, Trudy! You flatter me!” You said innocently, looking at her through your lashes, the face you always used with the trio: Your dad, Trudy, and Al.

“Ha! Always so cute!” The sergeant spoke again, like she was talking to a baby, as the other woman just stared at the scene in shock. “But what are you doing here, anyway? Came to surprise your dad? Because I’m sure he’ll love that!”

“No, it’s not exactly a surprise! We’d previously agreed on a lunch-date for today...” You trailed off.

“Oh! Then that’s why he came back from the raid they just made pacing like a deer in headlights!” Hearing that comment, you couldn’t help but laugh, as you imagined your father acting like that. “Hey, Burgess!” She shouted at the woman near to you. “Are you finishing that already? Because, when you do, you need to go back upstairs and let your sergeant know that his date’s here.” Trudy said simply, winking at you, to which you just responded with a smile.

“Oh, c’mon, sarge! Really? Why can’t you just call or text him?” The woman, Burgess, questioned, poutingly.

“Because I don’t want to? And tell me, again, since when did I start needing to give you a reason to follow my orders, huh, officer? Because I don’t recall getting the memo!” The sergeant barked, practically biting the younger officer’s head off.

“Geez, sarge-” Officer Burgess started answering, as reality finally began to hit her. “Wait,” she breathed out, turning to face you this time, “you’re Voight’s dau-” Burgess stopped in the middle of her sentence, now being cut off by another voice that was very familiar to you.

“Baby?” Shit, you thought. “What are you doing here?” Your boyfriend asked you, with a bright smile on his face.

How could have you possibly forgotten that Jay worked here? At your dad’s district? Of course, you still hoped that they somehow wouldn’t know each other. But you weren’t prepared for that introduction just yet. And it would happen, taking that he wasn’t shy at all about kissing you that passionately right in front of Trudy Platt. One of your dad’s best friends, Trudy Platt. You knew you couldn’t blame him, though. After all, you were the one who kept him in the dark about who your dad was.

“H- hi, Jay.” You managed to mumble whilst catching your breath.

“Hey,” he started, giving you those cute love eyes of his, “I’m surprised to see you here, but not complaining!” He said, raising his hands and smiling at you. “You wanna grab lunch?”

“Uh, I, uh-”

“I’m afraid she’s already taken for lunch, Halstead.” None other than your dad huffed out, from the top of Intelligence’s stairs. Of course, he would have to see that entire scene, and, of course, he would have to know your boyfriend.

Hearing that, Jay turned his head between you and your dad, and, then, looked at Trudy and Burgess, more confused than anything. “Babe?” He decided on asking you about it. To which your dad just gave a side-smile.

“Babe, huh?” He mocked, walking closer to where you were standing. “Something you wanna tell me, honey?”

“I-” You barely started when someone interrupted.

“Please, don’t tell me you’re shacking up with him, (y/n)?!?!?” Trudy cut you off, half-asking, half-begging while you started feeling the heat coming to your cheeks.

"So, (y/n), you gonna explain this? We're all here waiting." Your father told you, no more sense of humor in his features.

"Look, guys… " You started, not really knowing how to move from there. You didn't think you'd have to have the conversations with both your father and your boyfriend at the same time, and in front of Trudy (not to mention the other cops passing by). So you went for the easy way out, maybe it was a bit of a childish choice, but still. "You know what? No, I'm not gonna explain anything to anyone right now," you spoke, making clear that that was meant for all of them, "and, I don’t think that I’m in the mood for lunch anymore, dad." At that, the three cops just kept staring at you, Jay being the first to speak up.

"Uh, dad? (y/n), baby, just tell me what's going on." He pleaded with you, eyes already showing some hurt, which made you feel like the worst person ever. But you just knew that you wouldn’t be able to properly explain anything to anyone at that moment, not in that kind of circumstance anyway, so you decided to get the hell out of there before you buried yourself even deeper.

After you fleed the building, leaving a bunch of stunned police officers behind, Trudy took it upon herself to figure out why on Earth you’d be kissing the stupid Detective Jay Chuckles Halstead: “So, how’s it gonna be, Halstead? Why the hell were you kissing our (y/n/n), hum?” She asked, bluntly, while motioning between herself and Hank.

“Your (y/n/n)?” Jay shot back, completely confused by the whole situation.

“Actually, she’s mine. My daughter.” Voight finally spoke again, fulminating the younger man with his eyes.

“Okay… I think this is my cue to leave." Burgess finally decided to say 𑁋 as she was feeling very awkward 𑁋, sliding off towards the back exit.

“Uh, yeah, um, I’m gonna- I’m gonna go, grab some lunch outside too.” Jay ranted a little, running his hand over the back of his neck and moving towards the exit, right on Kim’s track.

The rest of the day went by tensely at the police district: Jay avoiding both his superiors, as you ducked his calls, and Hank and Trudy sending almost tangible hate waves on his way. It wasn’t like your time at work gone too well either, with the mess you’d made always in the back of your mind.

So 𑁋 after you got back home 𑁋, knowing it was the right, mature, thing to do, you called Jay and, then, your dad, telling them both to come by your place for dinner. Yes, you were about to ambush them. Because you’re a mature person.

“Hey, babe!” You cheerfully greeted your boyfriend, perking up to kiss him, as you opened the apartment door more.

“Hey.” Jay answered coldly while dodging your kiss, at which you frowned in confusion.

“So, um,” you decided to start again, tucking a string of hair behind your ear, “I called you here because I needed to talk to you-”

“Yeah, we definitely need to talk.” He said, cutting you off with a stern look on his face.

At the exact moment you were about to open your mouth to say something, the doorbell rang again and you knew it was your dad. Okay, maybe that whole ambush thing wasn’t a good idea after all. You gave Jay an apologetic look in advance, as you walked back towards the door, only to open it and reveal a, still, very pissed off Hank Voight.

“What’s he doing here?” Your dad barked out, not wasting a second, as he pointed a finger at the man standing behind you.

“You called him too?” This time it was Jay asking. “I thought it was gonna be just the two of us…” He then added quietly.

“Just the two of us! Who the hell do you think you are, huh, Halstead?!”

“Sarge, I’m just trying to-”

“I don’t care what you’re trying to do, you need to get out of here right now so I can talk to my daughter. That’s what you need to do!”

“Enough!” You yelled, finally getting both men’s attention. “Dad, you need to stop talking to Jay like that.”

“But-”

“But, nothing! He is my boyfriend and I love him!” You blurted out, Jay giving you a small smile in response. “So… Now that that’s out of the way… Jay, this is my dad.” You added, motioning for where your father stood by the door. “And, before any of you asks, no, I didn’t know that you two worked together! I thought that maybe you knew each other, but wasn’t ready to make the introductions just yet. And I’m sorry if that caused a, um, situation.”

“Baby… Why didn’t you ever tell me that your father was a cop?”

“I- I just, I was just afraid that’d push you away from me. You know, before we even had a chance.” You admitted shyly.

“Why- why would that push him away from you, (y/n/n)?” That was your dad’s turn to ask.

“Well, I know that you have a reputation, dad. So I figured that maybe he wouldn’t wanna get involved with your daughter of all people. Wouldn’t want the trouble.” You confessed one more time. “Besides, we all saw how, um, fiercely Trudy was willing to “protect me”.” You added, making them both giggle a little.

“Alright, there’s just one more thing that still doesn’t add up.” Your boyfriend started again, still serious but more relaxed this time. “Why isn’t your last name Voight?” He asked, still unsure of what was going on, as you and your dad traded knowing looks with each other.

“Ah, that... After my mom died, I started using her maiden last name. You know, as a way to remember her. It’s been so long now that I actually forget that the Voight’s even there.” You explained. “Sorry, dad.”

“Nah, it’s okay. You know I like the idea.” Hank replied, a soft smile on his lips.

“Ah, okay. That makes sense.” Jay said nervously and started scratching the back of his neck, like he always did when he was getting anxious. “Just- just so you know, princess, I wouldn’t have backed out of our relationship, then. And I’m not going to, now, either.” The anger in your father’s eyes relit but you didn’t really care, not when all you wanted to do was jump your handsome detective and not let him out of your apartment until, at least, the next morning.

“Dad,” you began saying, after deciding to go for a more conciliatory version of it, “don’t be like that, okay? I know that you wanna protect me and everything, but I’m happy with Jay. I really am.”

“And I promise I’ll never, ever, do anything to hurt her, sarge. But, if I do, you should definitely hurt me back with all you got.”

“Oh, I will! And I think you’ve been working with me long enough to know that I don’t need your ‘go ahead’, or anyone else’s, for those matters, Halstead.” Your dad cheerfully stated while shooting a typical Hank Voight fake smile in Jay’s direction. “Now, if my daughter says she’s happy with you…” He started, turning to look at you, as if trying to confirm the information.

“Yes! I am!”

“Then… I suppose I could accept this.” You didn’t give him a single chance to second guess, pulling him in for a tight hug while Jay watched the scene smiling.

“Now let's have dinner! That way you guys can finish talking this whole macho tension out and we can all make a plan to appease Trudy." You told them, moving to heat the takeout you’d ordered earlier in your kitchen, Jay coming to help you in tow.

Many other times you, Jay, and your dad met for dinner, lunch, or even breakfast like that. If you and your boyfriend ever went a little overboard on the PDA, the infamous Hank Voight huff would definitely be heard. But, overall, you knew he was happy for you and Jay. Just like you knew that the detective liked hanging out with you and your dad.

[sandycookie]

TWST’s Translation Spell

I’ve been following the novel translation, but there has been one question that I cannot stop asking:

How the hell does the translation spell work? 

(Long read under the cut...I got a bit carried away. Also if I get my facts wrong, feel free to correct me; I’m no linguist. On the flip side, if you have anything to add, that would be pretty cool)

Before we start, here’s an excerpt from Yuuya himself on how it feels to experience the spell (he’s speaking Japanese):

Expressing himself was easy and the words were discernible, but once he actually paid attention, something about it seemed a little off. His lips didn't seem to match what he thought he was saying.

"But then, what am I... ?"

Even if his mouth moved too much for the briefest of phrases, the words still traveled to his ears like always, revealing that everything he thought was being said and heard was being translated into some unknown tongue.

It’s a confusing passage, to say the least, but what he’s getting at is that whatever he is saying, or conveying, is automatically being converted into some other language. Or from what we can discern, into whatever language a listener understands, since he’s able to understand Crowley. Simple enough.

...Or is it?

You see, sometimes in my free time, I’ll dabble in language. I’m no linguist or language though, my interest is only something I act on sometimes, but I do know a few things at least. And I have more questions than I did answers for this plot tool to explain how students can communicate without a lingua franca.

From what we can tell, it seems that the translation is done as the speaker talks. That sounds fine on paper, until you consider this:

Grammar. 

Grammar is the system a language uses to structure. For example, English is a subject-verb-object (SVO), so it would go: 

I got a present.

And since Yuuya is speaking Japanese, Japanese on the other hand is a subject-object-verb (SOV), so in this case, the Japanese sentence of that would translate directly to:

(I) Present(s) got.

On that note, something also to note is that English mentions subjects a lot more than Japanese or Chinese. In the latter languages, the subject can be omitted since it’s clear in the context of the situation. This can happen in English ([You] Wanna come?), but those are the exceptions. Even if there isn’t a need to mention the subject as often as we do in English, it just wouldn’t sound right. Also to note is that English for the most part lacks any conjugation based on subject like Spanish and French do with their verbs. Subject omission may not affect the translation spell much as it could just add the subject markers you’d need, but I thought it would be nice to add. 

And there are others like how adjectives are placed (Red shirt in English, Shirt Red in Spanish, etc.)

That’s a basic rundown; grammar can get really complicated depending on the language. But the point here is that every language has its own grammar system. Some may share very similar ones, others may have completely different grammar. And because of that, certain details could either be omitted due to context or would come up later in a sentence. 

So let’s go back to our English Japanese example. Let’s say the Japanese speaker is saying a long sentence, that, of course, has a verb at the end.

How would that be interpreted in English? Would that mean that the English listener gets the sentence directly translated? Would that mean that the English speaker hears a blank where the verb is suppose to be, only for it to be filled when the Japanese speaker mentions the verb? But alright. Let’s say that the translation spell only kicks in after a sentence is said so that it can be translated with all of the details. But what if the Japanese speaker gets cut off before they can mention the verb? Then something like The running dog. Would be cut short to The dog. And if the sentence is compound and more complex? The English listener might be confused; what did the object do that was, say, so horrific?

On the flip side, the Japanese listener might be left wondering what object did the horrific thing. 

Now, I want to move on from grammar and onto the languages themselves. We can dive into how the translation spell could feasibly work after that. 

Now my main question here is: is the translation spell limited by language?

What I mean is: does the translation spell operate within a set amount of languages? Does it only work for languages commonly used in Twisted Wonderland? Does it only work for any language in Twisted Wonderland? Well, I think there the answer is yes...kind of.

In the excerpt, Yuuya mentions that whatever he was saying was being translated into a language he’d never heard of before. So I think it’s safe to say the translation spell isn’t limited by language (...kind of), and just, well, translates into whatever language a person understands.

But there is one major flaw with this logic: Rook Hunt. This is self-explanatory. He’s constantly speaking French, and it’s never translated. ‘Roi du Poison’ never gets translated into ‘King of Poison’, and ‘Oui’ never gets translated into ‘Yes’. The simple answer could be that French is just some made up language in TWST that Rook uses, and is therefore gibberish; something that you can’t translate, and something that the translation spell could let be and not translate.

But that doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. No one ever really questions or thinks what Rook says is gibberish. Their surprise mostly comes from Rook himself. Plus, his use of Monsieur to strangers outside of NRC is never questioned and easily accepted. That would mean that ‘French’ (because I’m sure it’s called something else) is a relatively known language (and if the English in the backgrounds of the game confirm that English is a language in Twisted Wonderland, then that would be even more confirmation that French exists since 29% of all English vocabulary is either French or of French origin, such as ‘gourmet’  and ‘reservoir’.)

So in order for Rook to have his translation-spell-ascending French, he has to...bribe the spell? Put some special charm on himself? Ok, I’ve got no clue how it’s done. The only way for that to happen is that there’s some means of which Rook’s French is an exception to the spell. At least he can swear without getting flack for it; though he’s not much for those words as he can wax on and on about beauty with no difficulty. 

Also, since we’re talking about the novel, does that mean Japanese honorifics are universal in Twisted Wonderland? I read from a post (since the entire novel has yet to be translated) that Yuuya goes through a bit of an arc regarding using honorifics, particularly with Ace. He refers to Ace as ‘Ace-kun’ (iirc), and Ace tells him to drop the honorifics with him. Yuuya is eventually able to simply call him ‘Ace’. As I assume that the translation spell was in effect here, that means that Japanese honorifics are for the most part universal in Twisted Wonderland. Of course, I do have questions on how a system so nuanced and rooted in Japanese culture was able to enter into widespread use, but that’s a discussion for another day. 

Since we’re talking about different languages, let’s talk about those.

As language is something inherently tied to culture and concept, that means that different languages will have concepts that don’t exist in other languages or are difficult to communicate in other languages. 

Have you heard of Pirahã? 

It’s a very fascinating language, and for good reason. It’s spoken by the Pirahã people in Amazonas, Brazil, who mostly are monolingual with a few who understand Portugese. I won’t go too in depth with Pirahã, only enough to get my point across. But it does stand out among most languages I’ve seen due to it lacking any word for abstract concepts. That is to say, and it is culturally upheld, that Pirahã does not make generalizations beyond the present. That means that concepts such as freedom, honor, justice, failure, etc. do not exist within its language. And the most significant of all of these is the lack of counting in Pirahã. Even the words for small or large quantity of items are tricky, as the only difference between the is the tone you use.  So in Pirahã, the concepts of 1, 2, 3 simply do not exist. There was a linguist who attempted to teach the Pirahã people how to count. However, it’s not the lack of number words that’s fascinating; there have been other languages out there that lack numbers. There have been linguists who were able to successfully teach numbers and counting to the people using those numberless languages. What makes Pirahã unique though is that even after 8 months or so, the Pirahã people were not able to successfully learn counting, and couldn’t even do equations such as 1 + 1. 

There’s more to Pirahã than what I’ve put out, and if you’re even mildly curious about it, I implore you to go do some research on your own. The topics and questions it brings up are truly fascinating.

But what does Pirahã have to do with this post? 

Well, now, what if a person is using a language that lacks concepts others do have, such as numbers and counting?

If a Pirahã speaker were to communicate with others under the translation spell, what would occur when a concept that doesn’t exist in their language comes up? How would that get translated? Sure, there are instances where numbers could be replaced with ‘large quantity’ or ‘small quantity’, but even that’s a stretch. 

So would the translation spell find some alternative way to communicate these nonexistent concepts? Would it cut out the nonexistent concepts? Or would the translation spell somehow make them understand the concept? 

The first option seems fine at first, but there’s not much you can do when those concepts simply don’t exist. After some time, certain concepts may be mixed together, not to mention that trying to alternatively explain nonexistent concepts in the first place will already cause some miscommunication to occur.

The second would merely cause confusion and potentially miscommunication.

The third would mean that the translation spell is like some sort of god of concept or wisdom; so it could be possible as it’s magic, but it’s also, uh, well, I doubt that is the case. The nature of TWST’s magic doesn’t seem to me to be that all-powerful, and definitely not powerful enough to teach to people nonexistent concepts (to themselves). 

Since it’s a translation spell, it’s likely that it would go with the 1st option rather than the 2nd one, since it’s whole reason for existing is so communication at NRC can occur without problem between students of different languages. 

So if you speak a language where abstract concepts are nonexistent (in a world full of languages able to do detailed communication regarding those very concepts), you’re going to be screwed over and have a lot of confusion or miscommunication occur. So even if there isn’t a language limit or barrier on the translation spell, if the language you speak isn’t as ‘compatible’ per se with others, then it fails at its very job of allowing communication occur between students of different languages.

Now what about bilinguals or people who speak more than 1 language? How does the translation spell choose which language others translate to? If you’re talking with a two people that are speaking different languages from each other but languages that you are fluent in, would you hear them speak those different, distinct languages, or would you simply hear them through whichever language the spell decides to translate them into? Are you restricted to only hearing one language? And how is it chosen? Is it the language you decide to currently communicate with? Your native language? The language you understand best? Most of those options are super invasive! 

Also, Epel’s accent? Does the spell give him some sort of acceptation and translate his dialect/accent from his own language and assign some other accent/dialect of the listener’s own language when translating his words? If it’s translating, it should be able to translate his words clearly, especially if the spell is to use intent as a main way to translate. Epel is just...well, his accent isn’t weird just because it’s hard to understand.

Oh, and remember what I said about Rook? ‘People outside of NRC’?

There are events where our boys go to the outside world, places outside of the effects of the translation spells. And its even happened in the story, with the Dwarf’s Mines, Deuce and Epel in Book 5 and over half of Chapter 6. 

Yet, these guys communicate just fine. ??? Does this mean there’s some sort of lingua franca after all in Twisted Wonderland? But how the hell does Yuu get around then?! They’re a complete blank slate, you could have you Yuu be from Hawaii, Nepal, etc. and therefore only speak one language. So how is Yuu able to communicate outside of NRC? So that would mean Yuu would have to learn the lingua franca, unless the spell’s effect carry on outside of NRC (press x for doubt). So if there IS a lingua franca, then what’s the point of the translation spell?

TLDR; I have too much time on my hands and it’s getting late and I need to wake up early tomorrow and I do not regret a damn thing about it AAAA