#if anything that’s on her for you leaving you unsupervised or not stopping you

[singlethread]

I’m 24 and my mom got mad at me today bc she remembers when I was a child I ate glue and erasers???? Like I was a literal child with anemia and autism calm down

Boooooooooo

[pricegouge]

Humor Me (Even When it's Ruining Me)

masterlist | taglist: @pricegouged

babysitter!reader x single dad!price

cw: fem reader. implied age gap. nothing specific beyond reader being legal. alcohol. reader is a brat and john's having a lot of fun with it. inappropriate work flirting lmao. also i beefed john up cause i could. MDNI

this is in response to a prompt but i don't wanna publish the ask until it's all done and up. also, i don't think this is recognizable against what she posted, but i do remember reading @ceilidho 's musings on this exact dynamic forever ago and it poisoned my brain so any similarities are in fact her fault cause she's gotta stop being so brilliant

Banner by @cafekitsune

>Running late but the door's unlocked. Feel free to let yourself in.

You read the text again as you park your car alongside the shiniest Lexus you've ever seen in your life. It rubs you wrong, the whole thing. The triple wide garage and the perfectly manicured lawn, the lack of a formal meeting and now this - 'Come on in and meet my daughter unsupervised for the first time, the door to my aggressively lavish home is unlocked just for you.' 

It had your hackles raised, creeping up the drive with caution. Honestly, if it hadn't been for the Laswells hooking you up with this gig, you probably would've backed right back out just as soon as you'd parked, but they'd never steered you wrong before and you doubted they would start tonight. 

Kate Laswell wouldn't tolerate some kind of pervert, and she definitely wouldn't recommend your services to him. 

The door is indeed unlocked, though you have some difficulty finding it at first. The flow of the walkway leads you right to the paneled door, but it certainly doesn't look very welcoming and at first glance you mistake the recessed entryway for just another confusing design element. But then the pathway runs out, bordering up to a lawn so lush it may as well have been planted with a carpet and you chew your lip, contemplating. For a moment you think to look for a back door, but then you take one step onto the lawn and your boot kicks out from under you, the soil beneath deceptively soaked by the automatic sprinkler no doubt. The fall isn't hard, just enough to plant you on your ass and splash some soil up onto your face. You frown at your dirty hands and then frown even harder when you see the trench your trainer has dug into the beautiful lawn. Standing, you try to wipe your palms on your hips and discover yet more mud so you give up, toeing a hunk of grass back into place in an attempt to cover the divot. 

When you turn back to the house, your brain finally makes sense of the broad bands of wood, the lock, and the handle. You pull open the heavy door with a frustrated sigh, finding a moody foyer - pale flooring contrasting nicely with the glossy black wall which stood across from you, subtle inlets suggesting it hid closet space if only you were clever enough to figure out how to open it. Fucking rich people.

You remove your muddy shoes out of necessity, but you leave them in a dirty pile next to the door and head off in the direction of little kid TV noises with your jean jacket still firmly in place. You've had enough hoity toity doors for one day.

Emily is four, and you think at first that her father must be brave to leave her unsupervised while he gets ready in the other room, but you suppose needs must, and she's well enough behaved to be trusted it seems, if the pristine state of the room is anything to go by. She sits placidly on the floor, playing idly with a pile of HotWheels as she zones out to some bubbly princess show on the screen. She jumps about a foot when you call to her to make yourself known, and then watches warily as you introduce yourself. For a moment you think you'd rather face a parent's scrutiny, her dark eyes so intense on your face you briefly wonder if she's got the shining or something, if maybe she's about to tell you how you die -

And then she points at you with a boxcar accusationally. "Why are you so dirty?"

"Oh," you laugh awkwardly. It's stupid to flounder under a child's gaze but you feel a bit out of your depth already so you do, smearing more mess across your pants when you pat your dirty hands over your thighs. "Took a little tumble outside."

"You look silly. You need to clean up."

"I -. You're right, I do. Where's the bathroom, please?"

But Emily is uninterested in helping you, it seems, instead much more entertained by the vaguely rhythmic chanting of 'dirty girl' she sets into, clamoring to her feet in order to run circles around you, pointing every now and again to make it clear who she's singing about.

You sigh to yourself, hoping against hope that she's not another spoiled rotten client. You're getting real sick of rich people and their spoiled kids, honestly. But you don't bother trying to correct her behavior. You are after all a stranger who just wandered into her home covered in mud. Any adjustments made now likely wouldn't be taken seriously by a child and that's okay, you wouldn't take anyone seriously under those conditions either. So you just grumble good naturedly and break free from her little circle, wandering in the direction of a dark, recessed hall off to your left. 

"The bathroom over here?"

"Dirty girl, messy girl!"

"Good talk," you mutter to yourself, socked feet slipping on the polished floor. You were definitely going to Risky Business the hell out of this place once the little shit had gone to bed. In the privacy the hallway offers, you give it a trial run, grinning like an idiot as you overshoot the first door and sidle back, rapping your knuckles on the frame out of habit. You roll your eyes at yourself for it, knowing full well the only other person home is upstairs getting ready, and push the door open just as someone from within grumbles 'In use!'

It's like you've never seen a man before, the way you stand there and gape. Looking at him now, you're not sure you ever have.

John Price is big. And hairy. And wet. And big, meaty fist so thoroughly swallowing the razor he's pulling up his exposed throat that at first you're unsure if he's just feeling himself up, inspecting the thick cords of his neck, maybe. Shaving cream drips down his bare chest in sticky rivulets, matting the thick pelt to his pecs. Water flows into the runnel between them, chestnut hair darkened by the runoff from his task. It drips down his forearms too, at least as far as it can, the hair there so thick it dams up somewhere around his wrists. He wears a towel slung low on his hips, his muscled belly hanging over the hem. It's tied off on the hip closest to you and hanging on for dear life, the breadth of him testing its capabilities. It gapes open high on his thigh, yet more hair and dense meat on display.

In the overwhelming humidity of the room, each breath feels too heavy to take, like your chest is simply too weak. You want to stammer an apology, but your mouth is suddenly much too dry and it comes out as little more than a series of clicking noises in your throat - 

Which are completely drowned out by the litany of 'dirty girl!'s behind you.

Mr. Price huffs a laugh, razor clattering against the sink as he taps it clean. The noise is muted in the dense air but it's enough to break you of your spell and this time when you apologize, your voice is winded and thin but at least audible. You step back, attempt to duck out, but then the man is turning to face you fully, motioning you closer with the hand that still holds the razor and you've never been one to disobey the people who pay you so you do, careful not to slip on the slick tile.

"Think you need it more than I do," John rumbles, deep voice lilting around the edges as if he's in on some joke that you're not. He nods to the sink he still mostly blocks when you shoot him a confused look, clock the open interest in his gaze.

Right, the mud. Some first impression. "Sorry," you chuckle, trying to make light of it. "I took a little spill in your yard just now. Mr. Price, yes?"

John at least nods and has the decency to look concerned but his niceties end there, still standing much too close as you step forward and run the faucet, getting to work on your hands. You keep your eyes locked on your task, afraid to make eye contact with his reflection in front of you. He's only one man but between the sheer size of him and the mirror, you feel like you've been caged in.

"But you're alright, I hope? Not hurt?"

"Nothing besides my ego." Your laugh is still breathless, nodding down the hall where Emily continues singing. In the reflection, you catch John staring down at you shamelessly and you duck your head again before continuing, "Your daughter has a way with words."

John chuckles, scratches his chest absently. You try not to zero in on the sound of it. "Gets her clever tongue from her mum, I'm afraid."

And maybe it's because you're stupid, or it's because humor's never failed to get you out of a bind before - maybe you just like making things difficult for yourself - whatever the cause, the effect's the same. You're an incorrigible flirt. "Well, don't sell yourself short."

The scratching against John's chest stops. When you look up, ears on fire, you find him staring back at you through the reflection, dark eyes so heavy they're nearly a physical weight. Your pulse thrums, whole body primed for a smart retort, but then Emily is in the door, laughing at her own antics. Her voice is bubbly when she asks if you can order pizza and it's hard to stay mad at her even when she calls you 'messy girl' again.

You start to say yes and then bite your tongue, unsure. You don't care how Mr. Price feels about delivery, honestly, but it's possible Emily has a dairy allergy you don't yet know about. This is why you usually prefer to meet parents ahead of time, but Kate had said the man was much too busy for such a thing, and the way he'd been scrambling for a reliable babysitter after his live-in nanny retired had made you sympathetic (see: very open to accepting clients who could afford live-ins), bending your rules for one of the Laswells' oldest friends. It hadn't seemed like a big deal at the time but now you were being guilted into cheesy comfort food, you find yourself ill-prepared

Thankfully, John takes over. "Not until you learn some manners first, munchkin," he proposes, wetting a hand towel and turning you to face him with a big hand on your shoulder. You frown up at him in confusion but he just ignores you, wiping at your temple with his towel as he continues talking to the toddler behind you. "That's Miss Messy Girl, alright? Only polite."

When he releases you, you glare up at him, no real heat. He smirks, taking the towel to his own face now, wiping excess product off his skin without breaking eye contact. "Now ask nice."

You flounder a moment, at a loss, and then have to resist the urge to kick yourself when Emily takes up the queue instead. Of course he meant his daughter.

"Miss Messy, can we please order pizza?" 

John laughs and suddenly you don't care how Mister Price feels about delivery. And if it turns out Emily can't have it, he can deal with her ensuing meltdown. He's already running late anyway. "Of course we can, sweetie. But please, my name is -." 

"MISS MESSY'S THE BEST!" Emily crows, jumping up and down on the spot. 

***

When he gets out of the bathroom, John teases you right up until the moment he heads out the door that pizza was your idea so you'll have to pay for it. He also throws a stack of flannel and henley at you, tells you to stop tracking mud all over his house or he'll add cleaning to your job description. You tell him you charge extra for that and he gives you a look like he's famished, like you're the first slice of meat he's seen in years.

It only gets worse when you emerge from the bathroom moments later with what can only be his pajamas hanging off you, but he never says anything inappropriate and he keeps his hands to himself. You try not to think about why that disappoints you. 

Resisting the urge to take a big whiff of his thermal is far more difficult. 

(Past the scent of fresh laundry, he smells like cedar and smoke and in the crease of the seams, something muskier lingers. 

You decide you're going to steal it right then.)

He shows you to the laundry room, shuffling a load of brightly colored girl's clothes from the dryer before giving you the rundown on how to use them. You're not sure what about you gives him the idea you don't know how to operate a washer, but you decide not to comment on it when it means him standing too close, the warmth of his body seeping into your back.

The spiel about Emily's schedule and needs is delivered as he shoves his feet into a brown pair of loafers. They match his belt perfectly, visible where he keeps his fitted button up tucked into pressed blue slacks. It's hard to pay attention to what he's saying but you're fairly certain you catch the gist of it. No strawberries or house parties, bed by ten at the latest and only if she's well behaved. He knows you have his number saved because he texted you about your availability this evening earlier in the week, but that doesn't stop him from standing over your shoulder to ensure he's still in there. You think you hear him snort when he sees he's saved as 'Mr. Price' with a money bag emoji but you steadfastly refuse to think too hard about it.

When everything finally meets his expectations, John scoops Emily up in a big bear hug and peppers her in kisses which leave her squealing in ticklish delight.

Emily hangs from him happily, little arms wrapped around his neck as if she'll never let go. You hear him whisper something conspiratorial directly into her ear which makes the girl giggle in delight before shooting you a wink which has your stomach fluttering with a strange mix of excitement and apprehension. Likely, he's just telling her to behave for you and being cheeky about it, but he's far too handsome to be running around winking at young ladies like that and you've half a mind to tell him.

Maybe you'll pencil that in after your sock sliding. He does say you're allowed to text for any reason, after all.

"And I mean it. Don't want to waste my evening there anyway," he grumbles, setting his daughter down. 

"So stay here with me, daddy!" she implores. "I'm much cuter anyway." Little shit even strikes a pose.

John chuckles, hand heavy when he pets her hair. "The company here is much better," he hedges, and for a split second you think you see his eyes flick to you. "But unfortunately a man's gotta endure some boring business dinners from time to time if he wants to get ahead in life."

A beat passes while Emily seems to think that over. John starts his car from his fob while he lets her digest that, the very picture of placating indulgence. Vaguely, you want him to look at you - or through you - like that and then immediately decide that's a desire best left uninspected. 

"You're out every night!" Emily gripes, no real heat. It's the kind of thing you know will bug her later in life but for now she's too busy reveling in all the late night pizza parties and gifts he no doubt showers her with to mask his own guilt.

You've been there before.

"That's true," John allows, brief flick of regret across his face. "Which means you gotta be good for Ms. Messy so she'll come back."

Emily gives you a look as if she's not very excited by that prospect and you're so offended you forget to correct John about your position being regular. 

John laughs when you scoff, a harsh bark that stops your snide remark in its tracks. "Behave, you two," he says by way of farewell. "And try to get along."

Shrugging, Emily bounds away in search of better entertainment. John's big hand is on his ridiculous doorknob as he waves absently and then you're remembering so quickly there's no time to dress up your request when you call after him for pizza money.

A beat passes, Mr. Price blinks at you. You sheepishly tack on a please and he hums, digging in his back pocket for his wallet. "Suppose I can't expect you not to ruin my reputation as a good tipper," he grumbles and you gape when he hands you a crisp hundred note.

"That's way too much," you blurt, not even reaching to take it from him.

John just shrugs, tucks it into the hip pocket of his own pajama pants while you're still stiff as a board, winks as he tells you it's just a tip.

It's only after the door snicks shut on silent hinges behind him that your brain catches up enough to catch his double entendre 

***

Emily is a sweet girl, if a little catty at times but she's endlessly amusing to tease so you're honestly surprised when bedtime sneaks up on you both. Despite your chosen profession, you don't usually get along with kids as well as you do with her. She even carts herself off to bed with little complaint, an absolute unheard of when it comes to first nights with a new family. 

It's how you end up on the couch with too much time to spare, bored in a house that's smarter than you and unsure when you'll be relieved. You flick through the endless list of streaming services briefly, settling on some mindless comedy because you don't want to watch any girly romances and mess up Mr. Price's algorithm. 

Well, the messing it up part sounds endlessly entertaining, but not worth the embarrassment of him knowing the kind of stuff you blubber to at home. 

It's a fine enough distraction until you settle into the couch, the collar of John's shirt riding up until you can comfortably cover your face with it. It still smells like him, enough to deter you from going downstairs and swapping it for your own clothes. It's not a problem until the masculine scent and the boring movie have you reaching for your phone, scrolling through steamy romances until you find something to fantasize about. And even that's not a problem until the author earns their rating, the depiction of the female lead's satisfaction so explicitly rendered it has you rubbing your thighs together, head on a swivel lest you be surprised by a sleepless little girl.

By the time your face feels aflame and your panties feel soaked, you're debating texting John to see if he'd mind you crashing in a guest room when you jump a foot at a noise behind you, turning to find that very same man not two feet behind you.

That fucking door.

"Could've texted," you accuse, and Mr. Price holds up two hands in mock surrender.

"So could've you," he drawls and then smirks at your confused look, drawing in a rather pointed breath through his nose. "Told you to text if you needed help with anything."

It's just subtle enough you're not sure you would have gotten it if not for the graphic descriptions of heady scent your nose had just been stuck in. You stammer something that might be an apology, though you're not entirely sure why. Suddenly you feel like the frog being boiled alive.

He's kind enough not to let you flounder for too long, moving on like he's the picture of innocence with a heavy hand on the back of the couch, muscles of his forearm bunching when he leans over the back of it, just this side of too close. "Everything go okay, then?"

"Yes, Mr. Price," you recite, the fight to keep your legs uncrossed and neutral a conscious thing. You do not need to prove him right by overacting the blushing virgin.

"And Emily behaved?"

"Well," you hedge, voice high and humorous. You're desperate to get to familiar ground and it's the quickest path, unfolding before you well-trod and welcoming. Parents love when you can joke about their kids and John's no exception, eyes crinkling in delight as he conjures up whatever image he has of his daughter in mind.

"She can be a handful," he agrees even though you never said that. "Not so bad you'll refuse me for Wednesday though, I hope?"

You balk. "Wednesday? Day after tomorrow?"

"Aye, sorry for the late notice - again. But you'd be getting out of here a little earlier, at least."

"Mr. Price, I have…" A paper due, a social life that's slowly dying, responsibilities. "I'm busy that night. The Laswells -."

"I've already fixed it with Kate. You can bring Colin here for the evening, Gina will pick him up when she gets off work."

"But… Wait, I can bring him?"

"Well they'll need you for the morning, right? I won't need you until Emily's due back from preschool." He shrugs, the motion carrying him down until he leans both forearms on the back of the couch. "It just makes the most sense."

"But that's clear across town?"

"Oh, I'll pay for your gas, of course."

"Hang on. Am I picking up Emily, too?"

"Oh, would you? Thanks, you're such a dear."

You blink, overwhelmed. This was only supposed to be a one time favor for Kate's friend, you can't juggle school and two part time babysitting gigs. But you don't know how to tell him that in a way Kate hasn't already. "I'm not sure how I feel about watching both kids at once."

The look he gives you is borderline lecherous, though you're unsure why. "I'm sure you can handle it," he rumbles, voice suddenly much deeper. He clears his throat. "And we'd both pay you full rate, of course. Only fair."

You scoff. "Well yeah, I don't offer a group rate." 

Your jaw clicks closed audibly when his gaze turns hungry again. "Our loss."

Swallowing past the nerves in your throat, you eye him over openly. Technically, John hasn't moved any closer but the way he looms over you now feels somehow much more imminent than it had only moments ago; threatens to pin you in place lest you move out from under him. "I have to go get my clothes... I'll think on it?"

John smiles, just slightly forced. "'Course, kiddo. Need me to walk you downstairs? Basement can be a bit scary after dark."

"Um. No. Thanks."

He breaks away when you do, unfolding to his full, impressive height. "I'll be in the kitchen," he offers and then he lets you get away with no further comment.

Outside of Mr. Price's vaguely concerning influence, it's easy to see you'd be stupid not to take the job. You don't like how pushy he seems, but if you've already given up your day to work anyway, it's a no-brainer to take on the second income while you're at it. Besides, the beauty of under the table jobs like this was you could back out any time you wanted so there really wasn't much harm in taking the man who tips delivery drivers one hundred percent on for a few jobs, see how well it panned out for you. Even if you're fairly certain he's flirting.

Like, extremely certain.

But he was still annoying about it and you didn't like being taken advantage of or being teased like that, so you don't feel bad when you leave his comfy henley on under your sweatshirt, march back upstairs with your spoils well hidden.

In the kitchen, John inspects the label of a golden scotch you can't pronounce, thick fingers drumming on the counter silently. His watch catches the pendant light, a thick stripe of silver nestled in his dark hair. He's got his shirt unbuttoned like a whore, just far enough you can see a spot of the matching pelt there, your brain helpfully supplying you with memories of how he'd looked earlier, shirtless and dripping with cream. 

Shaving cream. Dripping with shaving cream.

"Are you old enough to drink?" He asks bluntly, pointing at the matching tumblers before him when all you manage is a blink in response.

"No. No, thank you!" You clarify when the man looks like he's about to choke on his tongue. It's enough to settle your nerves a bit, get your footing back underneath yourself. About time he's the one left floundering. "Sorry, I am old enough, but I gotta drive in a minute here."

John's quick to recover, pouring himself a neat glass as he shrugs. "Could spend the night."

"Well," you hedge, still worrying you're reading too far into all this. If it's too hot in here, you blame the three layers of tops you have on. "Wouldn't want to wear out my welcome. You'll see me again on Wednesday, after all."

His smile is just as honeyed and warm as his drink. "There's a good girl," he rumbles and it's a physical fight not to let your knees buckle when he comes close, another hundred note tucked into your front pocket. 

"That's way too much again, John," you breathe and his grin turns patronizing.

"John, is it?" He makes as if to snatch away the money and you take a step back, out of his range. He just grins at you over the rim of his glass, lets you keep your distance.

"S-sorry, Mr. Price." After a moment's deliberation, you ask if he'd like the money back and he snorts.

"Cute." Placing his drink on the counter with a clatter, he steps close and guides you to the door with a hand on your back. Part of you thinks your dismissal is a bit sudden, but you can't be too upset by it when you just want to hide under a pile of blankets until your nerves settle, maybe replace your pillow case with his shirt. "No, kiddo, I don't want that back. Just teasing. Over tipper, remember?"

"Right. Um. Thank you."

"My pleasure," he says magnanimously, drawing to a stop next to your shoes and pushing them toward you with socked feet. He does nothing to hide his slight distaste at the sight of so much mud and you try not to let shame make you meek again, remembering instead how annoyed you'd been about his stupid door and his stupid lawn when you'd left them there. It's hard to maintain the feeling when he offers to walk you to your car, your weak little thank you just as pathetic as the one that came before.

John's the perfect gentleman, his hand returning to the small of your back as he ushers you down the drive. He tells you to text him when you get home safe and checks for fingers before closing the door. He even watches as you pull out, waving at you happily as you drive off. You spend the whole commute wondering what you've gotten yourself into and if you'll ever be able to look Kate in the eye again if you fuck her friend.

John calls you kiddo again when you text him that you've made it home safe, tells you to sleep well.

In the morning he asks if you've stolen his shirt.

Next>>

[woso-dreamzzz]

Toys

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You find Morsa's rocketship toy

When you first move in with Morsa, you've got a lot to explore.

You knew every inch of the apartment in Germany but the house in London is different and you take your time exploring it.

You end your search in Momma's new room, the one that she says she's sharing with Morsa with the Big Bed. You really like the Big Bed so you're sure that you'll sleep in it with them very soon.

You decide to rummage through Morsa's bedside drawers. At home in Germany, she didn't put much in them but this is her main house so they must be fully stocked.

You go through them carefully.

Most of them are funny adult things like cotton wool pads and some of her makeup and her hairbrush and hairbands.

Morsa, you think, is very boring.

She doesn't have fun things in her drawers.

In Germany, Momma has some of your toys tucked into her drawers so you can have some to play with when you wake up early. It's a little annoying that Morsa hasn't done the same yet.

You keep looking through her drawers for something fun though and you're rewarded when you get to the very bottom.

There's a few long things that you don't understand and a small oval thing that has a little button on it.

You click it.

The oval starts vibrating in your hand.

"Oooh," You say, turning it over in your hand,

You've never seen anything like this before but it's what you expect an alien rocketship to sound like. That's what it is, you decide. It's an alien rocketship.

You didn't know Morsa liked aliens but it's nice that you do now.

You make an engine noise like the rocket under your breath before running off with it, leaving all the big long things on the floor.

"Woosh!" You say, taking the stairs two at a time as you run your rocket ship down the bannister. You keep making engine noises as you run around.

Momma and Morsa are still unpacking the things that were shipped over from Germany.

They're in the kitchen and you can hear them squabbling over whose cutlery set they're keeping. They were arguing earlier as well because Morsa has a tiny kettle that barely works and Momma wanted to swap it for her big kettle.

They're not proper arguments, harmless little squabbles mostly but they've left you unsupervised which is why you're now running around with your rocketship making noises.

You press the button again and the vibrating gets more fierce than before.

"Oooh," You say," Cool."

You press the button a third time and it gets louder than before again. This must be the speed it needs to be when it gets ready to take off.

You like that.

The arguing in the kitchen has stopped though so the only sound is the buzzing of your alien ship.

"Princesse..." Magda's mouth hangs open as she sees you flying around a very familiar vibrator. "Where did you get that?"

You turn around, smiling at her. "I found your alien rocket!" You tell her," It's so cool, Morsa! It makes noises and buzzes!"

Magda winces, hoping the sound of this conversation drowns out the noise from the vibrator so Pernille doesn't come in.

"It does, doesn't it?" She crouches down to your level and holds out her hand. "But can you give it to me, please?"

You frown, pulling it closer to your body. "No," You say," You only want it 'cause I have it. You're not playing with it!"

"Princesse-"

"No!" You say," I'm playing with it! Wait your turn!"

"Give it over!"

"No!"

"Princesse, please?"

You think for a moment before," I'm giving it to Momma!"

"No!"

Magda jumps at you but you've already dodged her outstretched arms and ducked into the kitchen.

"Momma! Momma! I found Morsa's rocketship!"

"Pernille! Don't listen to her! She's found nothing!"

Momma's at the cupboards, replacing all over Morsa's bowls with the ones from Germany.

You reach up to tug on her trousers but Morsa grabs you quickly, a hand going over your mouth as she quickly backs out of the room before Pernille can turn.

"Give it to me!"

"No!"

"Give!"

"No!"

"If you don't give it to me-"

"Momma! Morsa's being mean! She's not sharing!"

"Shh!" Magda is quick to silence you, burying her head into her hands and sighing. "What do you want in return? Huh? You give me the...er, rocketship and I give you-?"

"I want cake."

"You know Momma doesn't like you having cake."

You shrug. "I'll keep the rocket."

"Fine! Fine. I'll get you cake."

[raven-dor]

sweet nothing

In which james potter makes sure his friend isn't late for class

PAIRINGS: james potter x ravenclaw!reader

WARNINGS: given last name, fluff, flirting, crushing, OBLIVIOUS READER

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

AN: i just love marauders fics where they're happy and nothing is wrong and they are just living their lives

The halls of Hogwarts were buzzing, Pandora, Regulus, and Y/N contributing heavily to that sound. The blonde girl had said she’d discovered nargles, which caused Regulus and her to get into a heated discussion about the topic. Y/N watched helplessly, laughing at how animated Regulus was with his hands when he talked. A hand swung over her shoulder, rectangle glasses coming into view. 

She shrugged him off, glaring playfully. “What do you need, Potter?” 

James scoffed. “Can’t a man say hello to his favorite Ravenclaw without being reprimanded?” 

She raised an eyebrow. “Not when I’m in the middle of a conversation.” 

“Were you? Because it looked like you weren’t doing much talking.” 

Regulus cleared his throat. “Actually, Pandora and I were just leaving. We need to inspect the… the nargles.” He smirked. “Have fun.”  

“Reg!” She turned to Pandora, pleading. “Please, don’t leave me here! You know how annoying he gets when left unsupervised.” 

She giggled airly, walking away. “Have fun, Y/N/N.” 

She turned to James, smiling lightly. “How are you, James?” 

“Just fine, love.” She tried to ignore how her heart clenched at the nickname. He nudged her arm. “And you?”

“Fine.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Fine? Just fine?”

She nodded, staring at the ground. “Y/N, come on.” He slipped his pinky around hers as they walked. “You can tell me anything, you know that.” 

She could never keep a secret from him for long. If she wanted to become an Auror, she really had to work on her resolve. “It was-” She shivered. “Horrible. My parents cornered me, practically threatened me into getting the dark mark.”

He stopped, his grip on her pinkie stopping her as well. He grabbed her hand, tracing over the freckles on the back. “And did you?” 

“Rowena, no.” She scoffed. “Do you really think I’d do that?” 

He shook his head. “Just asking, lovie.”

She sighed, pulling him along through the corridor. James put his arm over her shoulders once more, and this time, she didn’t shrug him off. His voice had a joking tone to it, but she knew he was being serious. “If you ever need a place to stay, my parents would be more than happy to have you.” 

“James, I’ll be fine, really.” 

“Only if you’re sure, love.” 

She blushed, mumbling. “Don’t call me that.” 

He gasped, putting his hand over his heart. “Why not?” 

“You know why. You like Lily. So in the future, direct the endeering nicknames towards her. If you keep flirting with everything you see, Potter, she’ll never give you a chance.” 

His cheeks were pink, and he scoffed. “For your information, I actually like someone else. In fact-” 

“I enjoy a good deer pun as much as the next person, but are you two going to sit and eat lunch? You’re blocking the sun.”

She laughed, reaching across the table to ruffle his hair. The Gryffindor gasped, immediately shoving her away to fix his hair. “Don’t harm the merchandise, love.” 

James mumbled, glaring at his friend. “Oh, so he can call you love, but I can’t.” 

Y/N chose to ignore him. “Sorry Siri. I couldn’t resist.” She sat down, placing a heaping pile of mashed potatoes on her place. “And I would never miss lunch. It’s the most important meal of the day.” 

Remus smirked, tilting his head. “I think you’re thinking of breakfast, Y/N/N.”

She glared at her friend. “I am shocked you weren’t placed in Ravenclaw, Remus.”

He laughed. “I’m shocked you were.” 

“Remus John Lupin!” Her jaw dropped. “What a rude thing to say.” 

“You’ll be fine.” 

Peter giggled, shaking his head. “You’ve always been the funniest person I know, Y/N.” 

She bowed, and Sirius rolled his eyes. “Well thank you, Pete.” She looked at the other three, who could not care less. “Take notes. That is how friends treat friends.” 

James scoffed. “Speak for yourself. I treat you like a princess.” 

Y/N smiled, leaning her head on his shoulder. “When you're not tormenting my peace, yes, you are.” 

Sirius looked over at Peter, highly offended. “I’m not forgetting you said that Pete. You know I’m funnier than her.” 

Peter nodded, smirking. "Sure you are, Sirius."

"I'll have you know-"

"Boys, boys." Y/N put her hands up. "No fighting at the dinner table."

"It's actually lu-"

"Remus, again with the know-it-all card."

He raised his eyebrows. "Now, who's fighting at the dinner table?"

Free period was Sirius and James’s favorite part of the day. 

It was not Remus, Y/N, and Peter’s favorite part of the day. 

Because every day like clockwork, the pair begged them to watch their impromptu Quidditch practice. Peter luckily got out of this one, mumbling something about tutoring and scurrying away before he could elaborate. Remus and Y/N walked down to the pitch, holding their coats close to their bodies as they talked about their latest read.

“I don’t know Y/N/N, Jane Eyre seems to forget that she is the heroine in this story. Staying with that psycho who kept his wife in his attic? Not her wisest choice.” 

“I think you’re missing the main point, Remus. She’s finally doing something that no woman in her time had the fortune to do. Decide her own destiny. I agree, I think that particular choice was not the smartest, but she becomes the heroine of her own story anyway because she chose to stay. It’s a rare trope in that era of literature.”

James and Sirius stared at them from the sky, both of their stomachs queasy for the same reason. James turned to his best friend, whispering. “Do you think they’re… together?” 

Sirius spluttered, scoffing. “I mean, he can’t- he- she- they definitely-” 

James rolled his eyes. “Relax, Pads. Moony isn’t going anywhere. You still have a chance.” 

His friends cheeks grew pink, but he said nothing. James smiled, nudging him lightly. “You know I’m actually very proud of you, Padfoot. I know how difficult it is for you to accept that you like someone.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Prongs. I’m just shocked at the idea of them.” He nodded, but his voice didn’t sound as sure. “That’s all.” 

The practice ended quickly, and Remus left Y/N in the stands. He knew she liked to soak up the crisp, fresh air before sitting class for two hours.

“I am so surprised to see you here.” 

She opened her eyes, holding a hand above her to block the sun. 

“James. Great job out there. You continue to impress me.” 

He smiled, bowing. “Thank you. What are you doing after this?” 

“Transfiguration, James. With you.” She raised her eyebrows. “The same as every other Thursday.” 

“Can you blame me for trying to block it out of my memory?” He laughed. “Besides, I don’t need to take Transfiguration, I’ve already mastered that art.” 

She hummed, laying back down on the stands. He smiled, she looked rather peaceful like that. “Then you should be fine, sitting there for two hours. It isn’t that difficult, anyway.”

James scoffed. “Of course you would say that. Some people have to try, you know.” 

“Well not me and you. Don’t stress about it.” She sat up, huffing. “Suppose it’s time to walk over. I’ll see you in a bit James.” 

Y/N hadn’t even gotten two steps before a hand grabbed her wrist, stopping her in her tracks. “What if I told you I have an idea?” 

She squinted, whenever James had an idea it either ended in a prank or detention. No one could blame her for being hesitant. “And what is this so called plan?” 

He grinned. “Fancy flying?” 

“You cannot be serious right now James.” 

He smirked. “You’re right. I’m not Sir-” 

“Shut it.” She raised her finger to his lips. “McGonagall would have our heads.” 

“Nonsense. Minnie loves me. And if you don’t want to be late, you should take me up on my offer.” He held his hand out. “Don’t you trust me?” 

She sighed. Once again, her resolved crumbled thanks to James Fleamont Potter. “You know I do.” 

“Then get on.” She jumped up, gripping his waist as tight as she could. His voiced shook his chest. “Hang on, love.” 

She screamed, nuzzling her face into his back instantly. James laugh echoed through the grounds, and she couldn’t help but laugh with him. It was contagious, his laughter. What felt like seconds later, their feet touched the ground, her hold as strong as ever. “You can let go now, Y/N/N.” 

She shook her head, rather comfortable in this position. “One more second.” 

“You’re shameless.” He whispered. 

She nodded, releasing her hold. “I’m ready now.” James grabbed her hand, racing towards McGonagall’s classroom. “Merlin, James slow down!” 

“Can’t have our resident genius late to class. It’s a bad look Y/N/N!” 

She laughed, panting. “I’m not our resident genius James!” 

They whipped around the corner, throwing the doors open. McGonagall stood at the head of the room, her eyebrows raised. Giggles echoed through the class, the Marauders audibly laughing. McGonagall cleared her throat. “Mr. Potter. Ms. Baudelaire. How kind of you to join us. What exactly were you doing before you intrusion?” 

Y/N turned bright red, stuttering. “Professor, I am so sorry, I-” 

“It was my fault Minnie. I was running through the halls and bumped into Baudelaire. She took a nasty fall so I offered to walk with her to make sure she was alright.” He looked over at Y/N his eyes wide, practically screaming ‘go along with it.’ “Just plain, old fashioned chivalry.” 

Y/N fought a giggle back down her throat. “Exactly. Chivalry.” 

Sirius laughed, before quickly getting smacked over the head by Remus. McGonagall nodded, turning back to the chalkboard. “In the future, Mr. Potter, watch where you’re running.” 

He nodded. “Of course, Minnie.” 

Y/N looked down, realizing they were still holding hands. James grinned, pulling her over to their desk. He leaned over, whispering in her ear. “I told you we’d be fine.” 

She blushed, pushing him away. “Minnie really does love you.”

[redflagshipwriter]

Halfa Cass Chapter 6 part 2/2

Masterpost

‘Ouch,’ Tim thought gleefully as Bruce got his constipated expression. Damian was definitely pretending he thought it was admirable to frighten hapless Justice League niceguys. Damian knew better now. Damian even liked Jon Kent, who was basically like a tiny Captain Marvel.

Bruce really should know that. Tim could see the calculations whirring in his mind, weighing the odds of Damian being genuine.

He knew that Damian was a lot better now. That Damian had promised not to stab anyone unless it was absolutely necessary. That Damian had made friends and was less hostile to outsiders.

Bruce wasn’t confident enough that Damian knew better. He gave in. “I will be careful with my tone around him,” Bruce said sullenly. He stabbed at his breakfast.

‘You just got played by a ten year old.’

“Thank you Daddy,” Cass chirped.

Ah well, that’s it then. Game, set, and match. Bruce lifted his face enough to aim his watery i love my kids eyes at her.

Tim left the table without comment. He quietly thanked Alfred on his way out and gave a nod to Cass. Bruce was still glaring at his eggs. He’d be at it for a while, churning through the current state of his children’s social development and the relative healthiness of his personal relationships with Justice League coworkers.

‘I wonder why Cass cares about Marvel,’ Tim wondered idly. He didn’t have the slightest hint of doubt in her assertion. If Cass said that Bruce was too harsh for Marvel, then it was true. Marvel must be sensitive. But that didn’t mean Cass would interfere to protect a grown man from her dad’s growly temper. Maybe she had a crush? Marvel was pretty good-looking, if you were sick enough to be into hunky men with perfect teeth who were never rude to anyone and appeared to have no dark past. Sort of like crushing on that one cartoon surfer in the juice ads…

It was a minor puzzle piece that Tim tucked away for another time. 

He hung out in his room until it was time to get ready. Then Tim jogged down the stairs to the Batcave, humming under his breath.

Jason of all the people was already there, scowling at the screen. 

“Why are you up?” Tim asked. Didn’t he usually, sleep off half the day after a long patrol? Jason had been on the long shift last night.

Tim got a massively shitty expression from Jason  in return. “Patrol ended hours ago, dipstick. I’ve already slept.”

‘Those under eye circles say otherwise,’ Tim thought judgmentally. But he just shrugged. “Fair enough.” He breezed past to open up his equipment locker. 

“What are you doing?” Jason spun his chair around to watch. “Are you meeting Cass?”

Tim blinked. “No?” He unhooked his undersuit and pulled his t-shirt off over his head. He went to toss it in and then thought better of it. Tim conscientiously folded it so that there were no asshole comments from the peanut gallery. “Why do you ask?”

Jason thumbed at the cameras. “Because she’s leaving. Just got her green jacket from the living room.” He jutted his lower lip out. “I don’t know of anything on her schedule today.”

Huh. Tim stopped mid-motion. “There wasn’t anything on the master calendar,” he said slowly. He gave Jason a sideways look. “What are the odds of you following her?”

Jason looked tempted. “She’ll be mad if she notices me.”

“Yeah,” Tim agreed. It was just the truth. “But she’ll know you’re doing it because you’re worried about it, so she can’t get too mad. She got electrocuted yesterday. I’m not really sure she should be out unsupervised.”

Jason’s whole face twitched. “Yeah.”

‘Ah,’ Tim realized. ‘He already read her report. That’s probably why he came in.’

“You’re going to Amity.” Jason said it like it was an order, not a question. Tim nodded anyway and shucked his sweatpants. He started pulling on the sweat-wicking undersuit. “Yeah, alright.” Jason stood up with a scrape of the chair. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“You’re the best there’s ever been,” Tim lied earnestly. “I really appreciate it. I know that everyone else would say-”

“You’re a dick,” Jason said, and left the batcave quickly before Tim could say anything else nice to him.

Tim felt a lot better about leaving Gotham after that conversation. Jason was a huge angry clucking mother hen. He wouldn’t let anything happen to Cass. And Tim could be useful at the source of the problem without his attention split in worrying.

He clicked on his comms and switched to the YJ frequency. “Red Robin is on.”

The line clicked. “Wondergirl is here,” Cassie said happily. “You’re welcome, peons. I’m in the air already.”

“We’ll owe you forever, princess,” Kon snarked. “When can we kiss your boots?”

“You can kiss my a-”

“No chatter on the comms.” Tim typed up the mission start and sent it to the right file, marking that he was taking the jet. “I’ll see you in Amity.”

[taexual]

sleepwalking ● 6 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, mutual pining, SLOW BURN, mentions of smoking and other questionable decisions

words: 9.8k (🤐)

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 6 ► the fighting that i keep inviting could lead me to my grave

Two 4 AM trains in the span of 48 hours were more than you or Jungkook could handle, so both of you slept through nearly the entire nine-hour ride from Paris to Berlin. You only woke up for the transfer in Mannheim, but barely—hunger carried you both to the train station where you could buy warm pastries before going back to sleep.

By the time the two of you rejoined the band, you felt exhausted and disoriented. Although you didn’t regret the detour to Paris, you still struggled to imagine how Jungkook was going to manage to perform a show in Berlin tonight. You hoped the exhaustion from the trip would numb him down to just the right level of insanity that he’d be able to pull it off.

In any case, you sent him to get some sleep for a few hours before Rated Riot’s soundcheck, while you went to check up on the crew that you’d left unsupervised while you were in Paris.

Unsurprisingly, everything was under control: Seokjin kept a tight grip on the stage management crew—you probably wouldn’t have believed it if you hadn’t seen it time and time again, but someone who joked around at every chance he got still managed to have one of the strongest work ethics on tour—and Namjoon had kept the remaining members of Rated Riot busy.

If you hadn’t been exhausted to the point of confusion, you might have felt offended about how little you were needed here.

Half an hour later, Luna found you stumbling back into the tour bus.

“How was the wedding?” she asked straight away.

She wasn’t the type to conceal her eagerness when she was particularly curious about something—it was not even the wedding in this case, but your confrontation with Jungkook—but she still made sure to help you climb up the bus steps before you tumbled backwards and broke your neck.

You were far too tired to understand the expectations that hid behind her question, however, as you mumbled dejectedly, “I caught the bouquet.”

“You—” she began to say and then burst into laughter so unexpectedly that the roadie, who’d been unloading the stage equipment outside the bus, flinched in surprise. “You caught the bouquet! Of course, you caught the fucking bouquet.”

You wondered if you were too out of it to understand why this was so funny to her that she couldn’t stop laughing the entire ride to the venue, but you lacked the energy to ask.

“There was no ex,” you said as you glided towards your bunk while your amused friend stood back, covering up the sharp angles on your way with her hand. “Sid was just being an idiot. If I see him—well, I probably won’t do anything because I don’t know what the laws for assault are in Germany—are we in Germany? I’m so tired.”

Noticing your haphazard stream of thoughts, Luna pulled herself together and stopped laughing—but only for a short while—as she helped you reach your bunk.

“We are in Germany,” she confirmed. “Although I’m not sure where you are. How about you take a quick nap while the band does their soundcheck?”

“No, no. I have things to do now that I’m back. To make up for leaving.”

“Things are fine,” she assured you. You knew she was right, but your guilt was persistent. “Nothing fell apart while you were gone. The guys took care of themselves just fine. You’ve raised them well.”

You acknowledged the joke with a small, tired smile. That was good enough for Luna, who was starting to get worried your condition would require medical attention, considering how adamantly you were resisting her attempts to sit you down in your bunk—despite looking like you may fall asleep standing up.

“Are you sure?” you asked again.

“I am,” she said. “Sleep, okay? We’ll be fine.”

Somewhere deep in your exhausted subconsciousness, you realised how unprofessional it would be to take a nap while the band you managed went to the soundcheck on their own. But your eyes were closing without your say so, and you hardly could have helped anyone in a state like this anyway.

When you woke up several hours later, Rated Riot were doing their Meet & Greet according to schedule, and you felt much better—or, at least, good enough to return to your regular duties. You grabbed a Snickers bar from the mini-fridge, and then went out of the bus and into the venue.

As it turned out, it was only the stage management crew and the producers who had kept things in control; they were the ones who hadn’t noticed your absence. Unfortunately, everyone else had.

Luna was kind when she told you that nothing fell apart while you were gone.

Some things wobbled, and there were several rushed phone calls you had to make to fix it—namely, to make up for one of the interviews that Rated Riot missed because they were doing another interview, which wasn’t initially scheduled— but you were grateful for all of it. The sudden rush of adrenaline completely woke you up.

Meanwhile, Jungkook was doing jumping jacks in the changing room to keep himself awake after he managed to survive the Meet & Greet. It wasn’t terrible—it was, actually, very inspiring as these events tended to be—but he couldn’t stop apologising to the fans for his incessant yawning. It just wasn’t right. He was better than that—the fans deserved his complete presence.

The other Rated Riot members were getting snacks at the buffet on the first floor; they planned to go exploring Berlin for an hour or two before the show. Aware of that, Sid, Jude, and Minjun found their way into the changing room.

Their arrival stopped Jungkook’s exercise before they even announced their entrance. For a minute, the four of them regarded each other in complete silence.

Even Jude was quiet this time. As it turned out, his earlier sneezing was a lesser-known withdrawal symptom that one night out in the city seemed to fix—at least that’s what he informed everyone in the group chat. Jungkook wanted to know nothing about it; he rarely drew lines with his friends, but he drew one here. His preferred method of intoxication had always been alcohol and cigarettes, he never needed more thrills.

“Well!” Jungkook finally exclaimed. “If it isn’t my four-thousand dollars.”

Even if his friends hadn’t seen you two leave together the other day, everyone travelling with Rated Riot was aware that the manager of the band was going to be gone for a day, because she was taking a trip to Paris with Jungkook.

Sid mumbled something incoherent while Jude shook his head, and Minjun just stood there, hands in his pockets. He was the one who spoke up first, glancing between the three other boys.

“It seems like he won fair and square,” he said to Sid and Jude, both of whom appeared to be looking for loopholes. “I see no appeals.”

“That’s right,” Jungkook declared. “I did win fair. Even though some of you tried to play dirty.”

He only glanced at Sid as he said this—the insinuation obvious enough—but his friend reacted like he’d been shot.

“I didn’t even say anything to her!” he defended. Jungkook couldn’t help a knowing grin—he hadn’t even said anything about Sid talking to you. Irritably, Sid continued, “and how did you even win, exactly? We bet on a date, not a—whatever the fuck you two did.”

“We went on a date,” Jungkook said again, taking pride in his calm tone and the way it seemed to cause steam to come out of Sid’s ears. “To a wedding. Do I get an extra $500 for how romantic that is?”

Really, he didn’t care about the extra money. He cared about Sid’s reaction—and it was satisfying. The older boy rolled his eyes and kept toying with his hands: crossing, then uncrossing them, stuffing them in his pockets, then resting them on the back of a chair in front of him.

Finally, he said, “you went as friends.”

“She was my date,” Jungkook reiterated. “That’s how weddings work. You don’t bring friends, you bring dates.”

“That’s not—” Jude tried to interject, but Sid extended a dangerous hand and cut him off with this gesture alone.

“Did you kiss her at the end of this date?” he asked, the last word sounding more like a synonym for a massacre than a romantic night out on his lips.

Jungkook frowned at him. “How is that relevant to the bet?”

“It’s the most important part. That’s the one thing that separates your—your outing from actual dates.”

Jungkook swallowed and looked at his other friends. Jude seemed distracted, not paying much attention to the conversation at all, while Minjun just appeared uncomfortable like he had the first time he found out about the bet. Neither of them jumped to his side or even offered a sympathetic nod.

“That wasn’t what we talked about when we agreed to the bet,” Jungkook said. His voice lacked certainty and Sid picked up on it immediately.

“That’s literally how dates go,” he said and broke off into a leisurely stroll around the changing room. His previous resentment had long but faded as he explained, “you spend time together, you talk, whatever—then you kiss.”

“Sid, my man,” Minjun waited until Sid stopped walking, then patted him on the back, mocking comfort. “This reasoning is not on your side at all.”

“Yeah,” Jude agreed, snorting. “By this logic, you’ve never been on a single date in your whole life.”

Sid pushed his tongue into his cheek in annoyance, and even Jungkook grinned as the two boys high-fived over Sid’s head.

“It was a date,” Jungkook repeated once more. “Stop looking for ways out of it and go get my money.”

Jude pushed his hand into his back pocket where he kept his wallet—this didn’t seem to faze him much; for someone who had an abundance of it, this was just money—but Sid extended his hand again, signalling for him to stop. Clearly, it wasn’t just money for him. It was a matter of pride.

“Dude, you have got to stop doing that,” Jude said as Sid’s arm smacked him on the chest. “I’m not a fucking dog.”

Ignoring him, Sid narrowed his eyes at Jungkook. “You went to that wedding as friends and you know it.”

“Actually, thanks to you, I barely went to that wedding at all,” Jungkook shot back. He took one step closer to Sid with each sentence that followed, “but I did. And I took her as my date. Just like I said I would. So, pay up.”

By the time he finished speaking, he was right in front of him—and, therefore, had the best seats in the house to witness Sid actually hesitate, likely for the first time in his life.

Still, Sid clicked his tongue and said, “I don’t think so.”

Throwing his head back with a groan, Jungkook placed his hands on his hips.

“Sounds like you’re too idiotic to admit you lost,” he said. “Now what?”

He’d meant the question for the rest of his friends, but it was Sid who needed less than two seconds to offer a solution.

“We’ll use a referee,” he said, turning around. “Minjun?”

Clearly not having expected to be assigned this role, Minjun opened his mouth in surprise, then closed it again.

“What—why do I have to referee?” he asked after a moment. “I wasn’t even there when you made the bet.”

“That’s exactly why,” Sid said. “Jungkook, Jude and I are involved. You’re the only one who can be impartial.”

Jungkook didn’t protest; he didn’t see the point. Minjun was more level-headed than Sid, so he liked those odds. Not to mention, he’d always had a different friendship with Minjun, one that actually felt like a friendship. So, he only shrugged when Minjun glanced at him as if asking if he agreed with this.

Noticing this, Sid wondered, for a split-second, if Minjun really could be as impartial as he thought he’d be (and he’d thought that, of course, Minjun would swing more in his direction—all of Sid’s friends did, that’s why they were his friends).

“Fine,” Minjun decided, making his way to the middle of the changing room. “Sit down. Tell us about the date.”

All three of them obediently relocated to the couch. Jungkook had to sit on the armrest because Sid and Jude took up the entirety of the loveseat with their exceptional talent at manspreading.

“What else do you want me to say?” he asked. “I already told you everything.”

“That was barely anything,” Sid protested next to him.

Jungkook was about to argue back, but Minjun spoke first, “Sid’s right. I need to know more details so I can make an informed decision.”

Jungkook didn’t know if that was fair—he’d taken you out on a date, he’d won—and he didn’t want to share anything else with them. This seemed like Sid’s way to rile him up even more, and the rest of his friends played along with it.

“We went to a wedding,” he said.

“You already said that,” Minjun pointed out.

“Okay,” Jungkook clenched his jaw. Then added, “we took a train to get there.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Jude was the one who got annoyed first as he groaned and locked his hands behind his head. “If that’s all you did, you definitely didn’t go to that wedding as dates. You barely went as friends, my man.”

Offended, Jungkook shuffled in his seat, trying to throw one leg over the other, but nearly losing his balance on the armrest as he did. He settled back into his previous stoic position.

“That’s—that’s not all we did,” he said awkwardly.

“Okay, so what else?” Minjun encouraged. “Did you talk?”

“No, we mimed to make it more fun,” he deadpanned. “Of course, we fucking talked. We talked the whole time on the train.”

Ignoring his wit, Minjun gave a thoughtful nod. “Okay. So, that’s what? Fifteen hours of non-stop talking? That’s a point for Jungkook.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sid immediately perked up, leaning forward with so much force that he nearly knocked Jungkook off the armrest. “But how do we know he’s not lying to us?”

Jungkook thought he might start throwing things. He wasn’t sure how he felt about whatever this was, but it sure reminded him of an interrogation, and he couldn’t help feeling defensive—to the point of physical violence if that’s what it took. But Minjun took his role as a referee very seriously.

“Because I have to pry information about this date out of him,” he said. Sid leaned back in his seat, smacking his lips in resignation. Minjun added, this time throwing a warning look at Jungkook, “and because if he says something I have a hard time believing, I’ll go straight to the other source.”

Jungkook widened his eyes, near-frantic. “You can’t ask her. She’ll kick me out of the band. She’ll never fucking speak to me again!”

Unsure which consequence Jungkook was more afraid of, Minjun nodded and said, gentler now, “then don’t lie.”

“I haven’t lied once,” he argued, picking up a decorative pillow off the floor—it must have fallen there when the two boys sat down on the couch—and tossing it at Sid, who caught it before it hit his face. “Your distrustful ass needs to shut up and quit whining. You fucking lost.”

“I didn’t fucking—”

“Focus,” Minjun said firmly—like a teacher, trying to discipline unruly kindergartners. “Jungkook. What did you talk about? How many mentions of your feelings for each other?”

Jungkook closed his eyes at the question, pushing his chin forward, an expression of blatant disbelief on his face.

“How many mentions of—what the fuck?” he spoke, unable to repeat the question without scoffing. He opened his eyes to look at each one of his friends. “Have any of you ever been on a real date?”

“I’d be on one right now if we weren’t holding court about a fucking bet,” Jude mumbled, his stare vacant as he clearly shifted in and out of focus on this conversation.

“I take it no mentions, then,” Minjun concluded.

“Of course, no mentions,” Jungkook groaned, throwing his hands in the air. “Who the fuck—”

“1-1,” Minjun declared, cutting him off. Cursing under his breath at the ridiculous, almost unrealistic turn that this bet had taken, Jungkook pushed himself deeper into the armrest, his side purposefully digging into Sid’s. Minjun asked, “how much time did you spend together—just the two of you—excluding the time on the train?”

“Wh—okay,” the vocalist inhaled, figuring he’d have to actually answer this one or else his friend would vote in Sid’s favour again. “We took a cab to the wedding. And walked around the Champs-Elysées.”

“Good, good,” Minjun nodded. “Was there any sort of—"

“Wait,” Jungkook stopped him, “don’t I get a point for that?”

“For what?” Sid interjected. “Walking down the street with her?”

“It wasn’t a fucking—”

“You get half a point,” Minjun said. “Now was there any sort of physical touching? Any hugs? Embraces?”

Again, Jungkook was forced to give his friends questioning looks. He felt incredulous—not just because it was starting to seem likely that he’d lose the bet, but also because they were forcing him to share the parts of his life that he’d never shared with anyone other than you before.

“You’re exploiting the shit out of me right now,” he said.

Minjun groaned and proceeded to curse as he spun around his axis, finally losing patience—not with Jungkook per se. He was just tired of being the middleman in a very stupid, childish game.

“We’re literally trying to find out if you were on a date or not,” he said louder. “Why is it so hard for you to just answer the questions and get this over with?”

“Because it’s my fucking business!” Jungkook snapped, jumping to his feet. “We never agreed that I’d have to share any details about the date. Just the fact that there even was a date was supposed to be enough.”

“But we don’t know if there was a date,” Sid argued—in every way that Jungkook appeared agitated right now, Sid came off as victorious. He knew this wasn’t looking good for Jungkook. “That’s the whole point.”

“Why the fuck would I take her to Paris,” he demanded, aware that he was yelling now, “if not for a fucking date?!”

“Because you’re in love with her,” Sid shot back. The relative calmness of his voice in comparison to his only pissed Jungkook off more.

Both of them were standing now, but Sid, who was only taller by a few centimetres, somehow always had the upper hand—not just in this conversation, but in their friendship, too.

In barely fifteen minutes, the tables had turned completely, and Jungkook was the one losing control of himself.

“That has nothing to do with—oh my God,” he covered his face with his hands and turned his back to his friends, giving up. “Okay. Fine. I can’t do this shit.”

“So, you admit defeat?” Sid asked—Jungkook could hear the grin on his friend’s face without looking at him.

“I admit nothing,” he grumbled.

“If you can’t prove it was a date, you lose.”

Turning around to look at him, Jungkook shrugged with exaggerated intensity as he asked through a humourless laugh, “how would I prove it? Everything I say sounds like a joke to you three.”

“I wasn’t laughing,” Jude spoke up suddenly—another return to the home planet—and then mumbled, “you’re not very funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be—” Jungkook stopped and inhaled sharply. He’d grown tired of playing this courtroom drama with the three of them. “Alright. I need to get ready for the show.”

All three of his friends understood the subtle indication that Jungkook was kicking them out of the changing room—Minjun turned towards the door and Jude stood up from the couch. But Sid stood still.

“The keys,” he said.

Jungkook frowned. “What?”

“Hand over the keys.”

Clenching his jaw, Jungkook kept eye contact with him for a minute before saying firmly, “I’m not handing you anything.”

“You lost the bet,” Sid said—his voice gaining a dangerous edge now that Jungkook wasn’t complying. “The Katana is mine.”

Jungkook pursed his lips as he continued to stare defiantly into his friend’s eyes.

“If I can’t prove it was a date,” he said, “then you can’t prove it wasn’t.”

The two of them watched each other for another minute until Sid licked his lips and nodded, signalling that—for once—he agreed to disagree.

“Alright,” he said, looking around the room. Jungkook did not feel relief. He felt tension. “I see how it is. How about we adjust the conditions of the bet, then?”

Even though he was sure he didn’t want to know, Jungkook still asked, “what does that mean?”

“If you manage to get back together with her,” Sid proposed, “we’ll all pay you $5000 each.”

Just as Jungkook lifted his eyebrows, Minjun furrowed his, declaring right away, “don’t include me in your shit.”

“Fine,” Sid agreed. Then clarified to Jungkook, “Jude and I will pay you $5000 each.”

It took Jude a moment to react, and he, too, tried to back out of this. “I don’t think I—”

“You were in the original bet,” Sid said, shooting a warning look his way, “you can’t get out now.”

Jude wasn’t very pleased with having to go through this again—even if the first bet didn’t, technically, cost him anything. He relented, though, because he always did, “fine, you bitch.”

Sid looked back at Jungkook, waiting for his response.

Aware of the predicament that he’d found himself in—or, rather, that Sid had manipulated him in—Jungkook crossed his arms on his chest and took his time before speaking up.

“And if I disagree?” he asked.

“Well, you have two options here,” Sid said, “either you give the keys to me because you lost the previous bet, or you hand the keys over to Minjun, our impartial referee, while I wait for you to lose this updated bet.”

Minjun rolled his eyes again, annoyed that he still couldn’t escape being involved in Sid’s game.

Jungkook, on the other hand, needed another minute. He’d definitely prefer to give Minjun the keys—just because he knew Minjun might give them back to him.

“So, just to be clear,” Jungkook started slowly, “you’re saying that if I get back together with her, I’m keeping the Katana and getting 10K?”

“Yes,” Sid confirmed. “And if you don’t, the bike’s ours. We’ll find good use for it. How does that sound?”

Like signing your soul over for the devil, that’s how it sounded.

Jungkook shook his head. A date was a date, he thought you would find a way to let that slide if you accidentally found out. But his relationship with you wasn’t for sale.

“I don’t think so,” he said.

Sid took it well, merely shrugging as he extended his hand, palm up. “Well, then hand over the keys.”

Agitated again, Jungkook smacked his palm against Sid’s. “Get out of here. I’m not fucking—”

“You lost the bet,” Sid repeated, enunciating each word so loudly, it cut Jungkook off. “The Katana is fucking mine, I’m just generous enough to give you another chance to win it back.”

“It’s not fucking yours.”

“He’s right,” Jude spoke up again—very unhappy that he was only remembered when the topic turned to him paying. “It’s technically ours.”

“It’s mine,” Jungkook said, taking a moment to look at both, Sid and Jude, as he repeated, “I didn’t lose.”

“Then you have no choice,” Sid concluded. “The bet is ongoing.”

“How is it ongoing?” he argued. “It’s one thing to go on a date—”

“Which you didn’t,” Sid interjected.

“—which I did,” Jungkook countered, his eyes burning with a flame so angry, it was almost a miracle Sid didn’t immediately catch fire. “But you’re suggesting a completely different thing now. Starting a relationship is not the same. Especially if it’s a relationship with someone you already dated before.”

“I know,” Sid said, seemingly unbothered. Jungkook wondered why, because his friend didn’t look pleased, either. He didn’t look like he’d tricked him, like he knew he’d win for sure.

Clearly then, Sid had to think that the odds of winning this bet were, more or less, equal for both of them. That had to mean that a part of him believed that Jungkook could really get back together with you.

Consequently, Jungkook realised that Sid wasn’t, really, suggesting anything at all. He was simply telling him that this was how it was going to be from now on.

“I can’t do that just randomly,” he said. “I can’t just approach her and ask her this. It’s—”

“Two weeks,” Sid said. “That enough for you?”

Jungkook swallowed.

Even though he wanted this, he knew that attempting to get back together with you now could jeopardize everything that you’ve done in the past two years as Rated Riot’s manager. Jungkook didn’t think he wanted to burn down the same bridges that the two of you had built back from the ground up.

That being said, there was a glimmer of hope—very obscure, barely there, not even visible, really, just faintly humming somewhere about his chest—that you would get back together, and his reward wouldn’t just be $10 000.

It’d also be a future with you; the very same one that he could sense in Paris.

He knew he didn’t need a bet to bring this future to the present. If anything, the bet might hinder the progress of your relationship. But if there was a possibility that he’d get everything: you, his bike, and the defeat of Sid; if there was a possibility that, for once, the idiot would lose and all of his shit-talking would come back to make him miserable… Jungkook was on the edge of considering it.

Smirking as the younger boy bit his lip in anxious contemplation, Sid looked at the other two guys in the room and announced cheerfully, “you’re actually doubting this!”

“I’m not doubting the time frame,” Jungkook said. “I’m doubting if you’ll keep your end of the deal since you’re very much fucking me over right now.”

Sid rolled his eyes.

“We can write the conditions down and have Minjun stamp it if that makes you feel better,” he said.

Minjun—the designated lawyer, apparently—groaned, but did not audibly object. This wasn’t a conversation involving him—it barely involved Jude, who was, technically, part of the bet—so he stood back and watched the face-off on the sidelines.

“Stamp it with what?” Jungkook asked, finding this excessive. “Our blood?”

“Anything that makes you feel better.”

Jungkook brought his tongue over his teeth as he thought this over.

He couldn’t do this.

But how could he not? If he gave his bike up now, if he dropped out of the bet, Sid would be free to find you and tell you about it—acting like he didn’t mean it. Like he was just showing off the bike that Jungkook gave him, and the bet simply came up. And then, not only would Jungkook lose his Katana, but he’d definitely lose you, too.

No, he had to be the one who told you about this in hopes that, once your initial anger faded, you would cooperate with him. Not for the Katana, but to make Sid fail. And maybe that could be what brought you together, what made you stay together even after the bet ended.

It’s the only way he could win.

Sighing, he asked. “What are the conditions?”

“First of all,” Sid started—glancing at Minjun who pulled his phone out to write it down. iPhones seemed more formal than bar napkins and Jungkook bit his lip, realising this was serious as Sid dictated the rules, “you both have to be aware that you’re back together.”

“That’s already a given.”

“Not with you it isn’t, you sneaky shit,” Sid disagreed, the seemingly innocent smile on his face concealing his anger about not having gotten his way with the first bet.

“Fine,” Jungkook agreed and immediately offered his own condition, “then you can’t talk to her about the bet or attempt to ruin this for me. Just sit back and wait until it’s over.”

Sid considered this. “Alright. But you can’t tell her anything, either. If I find out that the two of you plotted against me, the deal’s off and the bike is mine.”

Jungkook was the one who needed a minute this time.

Obviously, Sid had single-handedly ruined a plan that, Jungkook now realised, wasn’t very well-developed to begin with. But Sid’s satisfied mug pushed him to clench his jaw and agree anyway.

“Fine,” he settled. “I won’t tell her anything.”

It could still be okay, he hoped. He would just have to find a different way.

Perhaps, he thought suddenly, he could drag this out long enough that Sid would forget about it. Even two weeks could be plenty if enough happened to distract him—or if Jungkook stopped talking about it altogether.

Both boys looked over at Minjun, who typed for two more seconds, then looked up at each of them and nodded.

“The keys,” Sid reminded Jungkook.

Groaning, he pulled them out and passed them over to Minjun who had the decency to look apologetic as he took them from him.

“So,” Sid continued then, grinning mischievously as he extended his hand. “Do we shake on it?”

Jungkook knew he had a big head when it came to talking about this, but he also knew that actually making this happen would be a true challenge. He wasn’t sure if he could do this. He was sure he didn’t want to do this.

But if he succeeded—fuck—he’d get you back. There was hardly anything else in this world he would still want. Maybe a nice meal every now and then, but he’d make do with dry ramen noodles until the end of his days if he had to.

Fuck.

He liked his odds; the date at Kihyun’s wedding went well, after all. But Jungkook could also recall—very vividly—you telling him that you didn’t believe in second chances. Not to mention, you’d been very explicit when you’d asked him not to lie to you again.

Fuck.

“You’re sure taking your sweet time,” Sid teased, his hand still hanging in the air. “Not so sure of yourself anymore?”

It had to get worse before it got better, Jungkook told himself.

He had to agree to this, first of all, to find a way out. Then, he had to win to turn this bet into a distant memory with minimal consequences, to make it almost like it never even happened before—without you knowing, without him losing his bike, without Sid fucking winning.

And, most importantly, through this, he had to find his way back to you.

“Oh, I’m sure,” he lied—he did it well and he could tell, based on the way Sid narrowed his eyes when Jungkook’s palm touched his. “You’re fucking pitiful. But I’m still going to win this.”

Jungkook was worried he’d have a hard time performing after agreeing to the bet, but the concert in Berlin, surprisingly, worked as a distraction.

He sensed the irony: once, he’d used the bet to distract him from the anxiety of the tour. Now he had to perform in order to distract himself from the bet.

Still, once the show finished, Minjun saw the vacancy behind Jungkook’s eyes, and it unsettled him. Wanting to take his friend’s mind off this, he suggested getting drinks once the bus arrived in Copenhagen.

Jungkook took that to assume it’d only be the two of them going out, leaving Sid and Jude to occupy themselves with something else, and he didn’t mind that at all.

But this was where unforeseen circumstances altered their plans.

While the band was having after-show drinks backstage in Berlin, the crew dismantled the stage set: several bars of batten were dropped, causing minor injuries for the staff members in charge of the deconstruction. They didn’t need medical attention, thankfully, but the equipment had been broken—decorative light fixtures with Rated Riot’s logo that were supported on the battens had shattered and the metal pipe constructions had come apart.

You were informed that it would take approximately two hours to salvage what was fixable and load the equipment back onto the buses before you could leave for Copenhagen. Naturally, you were concerned about the state of the staff—if they could even drive after this—but they assured you they were fine. Still, you insisted they rested after having reassembled the equipment and assessed the damage.

Finally, everyone settled on leaving Berlin at five or six in the morning—that gave you, at least, five more hours in the city.

While this might turn out to be a logistical challenge for you and the rest of the roadies, it was an opportunity for Minjun, who immediately pulled Jungkook outside, already looking up the closest bars.

“No time like the present,” he’d said after Jungkook questioned what happened to getting drinks in Denmark. “We grab something here, get some sleep, and then grab something else once we arrive.”

Most unfortunately, Sid and Jude also saw this as an opportunity to get drunk, and did not hesitate to invite themselves to join the other two boys.

Technically, Jungkook and Minjun didn’t even realise that they weren’t the only ones entering the bar until Sid ordered them to get a table while he and Jude went to get drinks.

They were always the ones who picked the drinks for the night, and, for the first time in his life, Jungkook felt a little concerned—Sid and Jude always, without a fail, chose the drinks with the highest alcohol concentration.

“Why do you care?” Minjun asked as the two of them settled in the booth of the bar. “You’ve only passed out drunk, maybe, three times in your whole life.”

“I haven’t slept properly in two days,” Jungkook said. “So the fourth time might be tonight. And if that happens—”

“Don’t worry. I’ll personally carry you home,” Minjun replied. “I’m not getting your girl involved.”

“What girl?” Sid asked, returning with a tray. The question was unnecessary, really; he was already grinning anyway. “Last time I checked, she wanted nothing to do with you and only went to Paris with you out of—”

“One more word about it,” Jungkook said, “and I’m leaving you stranded in Germany.”

“Sensitive,” Sid commented and sat down next to him while Jude climbed into the booth next to Minjun. “Alright. Let’s get you loosened up, you’re awfully uptight.”

Minjun noticed that whatever Jungkook prepared to respond with wasn’t going to be pretty. He wanted to avoid confrontation and pushed the highball glass towards him.

While Jungkook drank, Minjun made sure to shift the topic: staying close enough to the bet so that Sid would remain entertained, but making sure to drift away from you, so Jungkook wouldn’t be triggered, either.

“How’s the engine on your Katana?” he asked. “All good?”

The question seemed innocent enough, but Jungkook saw through this plan as he swallowed his drink. He gave his friend a look—Minjun wasn’t sure if it was grateful or just confused—as he put his glass down and wiped his mouth with the back of his palm.

“It’s fine,” he said. “The oil’s leaking, though. I still don’t know why.”

“The gasket has worn out, probably,” Jude offered right away. If he didn’t have a trust fund bigger than ideas what to do with it, he might have genuinely considered becoming a mechanic.

“It couldn’t have,” Jungkook said. “I just changed it.”

“Did you change all the plugs, too?” Sid asked. He could tell from the look in Jungkook’s eyes as he took another sip instead of answering that he hadn’t. “You don’t know how to take care of it properly. I told you that you should have let me look at it. It’s why I’m going to be—”

“You break everything you touch,” Jude accused before Sid could elaborate further. “Let me take a look at it when we get back.”

Jungkook’s three friends – although significantly wealthier than he was – had always had a soft spot for anything that had wheels. It started out with tuning their bikes when they were fifteen and turned into purchasing their own vehicles when they got older: which meant Sid, Jude, and Minjun getting their first cars at seventeen, and Jungkook purchasing his Katana as soon as he made enough money for it. Minjun had known this when he asked the question that started the conversation.

And so, for the next hour and a half, the four of them immersed themselves in a discussion about Jungkook’s Katana, Sid’s vast collection of chevies (nevermind that he’d inherited the first Chevrolet from his grandfather, and the rest were gifted to him by his parents), and Jude’s latest hobby: restoring his 2002 Nissan Skyline after he’d wrecked it drag-racing.

“See, I knew no one should let you drive,” Sid said—he’d already had five drinks at that point and was, therefore, rocking gently in his seat.

“You’re one to fucking talk” Jude heated up, equally as drunk. “You can’t tell the wheel from your ass.”

Jungkook snickered as he sipped his drink.

Minjun took over the argument, “you’re both shit, actually. As far as I remember, Jungkook and I won most of our races. But I was driving in all of them, of course.”

Here, Jungkook raised his head, his eyebrows furrowed in offence.

“Not true,” he said indignantly. “I was driving at least once when we won.”

Minjun gave him a look. “You crashed into a wall that time.”

“We still won, though.”

“Because Sid dented someone’s fence and lost a tire a minute before you!”

“Still,” Jungkook said with a pout that he was not aware of. Then, he added a very important, “I’m not that bad of a driver.”

There was irony in Minjun’s laugh as he shook his head and began to list off the consequences of their win, “both of us had whiplash. The car was totalled. Your girlfriend nearly left you.”

Jungkook put his glass down with more force than intended—any mention of you sent a signal into his subconsciousness, as it seemed. “Okay, that’s—that’s a different thing.”

“How is that a different thing?” Minjun did not relent. “You’d even named the car after her.”

“Are you implying I crashed it because I’d named it after her?”

“I’m saying if you can’t drive a car you named after your girl, then how can you—”

“You know what?” Sid cut in, growing bored. He pulled his phone out and nearly dropped it as he smacked his elbow into the edge of the table. Hissing in pain, he lifted his phone off the settee and clutched his arm, “fucking shit. God. We need a new race to settle it. You and Minjun wouldn’t be on the same team for once. You think we could rent out cars here?”

He was already browsing on his phone when Minjun snorted. “Definitely not at four in the morning.”

“We could do it tomorrow,” Jude suggested. Sid nodded right away. Jude pointed his glass at his friend’s phone and said, “look up rental places in Denmark.”

If Jungkook wasn’t so tired—and the two Manhattans he’d consumed didn’t help, either—he would have been surprised that Jude knew his European countries well enough to recognize Copenhagen as the capital of Denmark. Instead, he pulled his own phone out of his pocket.

“Actually,” he said then. “Maybe we should go. The bar closes soon, and we have to get back to the bus.”

Sid lifted his eyebrows and looked at his friends for support—Jude was already gathering his belongings, and Minjun was already halfway out of the booth, too.

“Wow,” Sid said, despite being the only one who had a problem with Jungkook’s statement. “What’d she do to you? You’re no fun.”

“I agree with him,” Minjun cut in before Jungkook could say—or throw, as he clutched his empty glass—anything else. “We should go.”

Rolling his eyes and grunting about how boring everyone had gotten in Europe, Sid pushed past them to exit the booth and headed to the bathroom before they left. Minjun made him swear not to drink anything else on his way back, and the rest of the boys went outside to wait.

Meanwhile, you had been busy helping the roadies out—before they politely escorted you outside, claiming that they were stressed out by the endless phone calls you were getting from the label after they heard of the problems with the stage set—so you hadn’t seen Jungkook leave with his friends.

But Maggie—friend, tour photographer, social drinker with an alcohol tolerance that could have knocked Jungkook out—had spotted them. And it gave her a wonderful idea the second she saw you lingering by the exit of the venue.

“Since we’re stuck in Berlin,” she had announced to you, “let’s do something with it.”

It had sounded like a suggestion only for a second—immediately after she said it, she grabbed your hand and pulled you after herself to find Luna. It wouldn’t have been a proper night out if the three of you weren’t together.

Not many bars were still open at nearly four in the morning, but Maggie seemed to have a radar—the three of you were in a booth at the very back of some half-deserted pub before the remaining 20% of your phone battery could run out.

“I don’t think I should have left, to be honest,” you said, your hand hesitating around the cocktail glass that Maggie had ordered for you as soon as you walked inside. “We were having kind of a crisis back there.”

“You weren’t doing anything,” Maggie replied. She was sitting next to you and leaned over to pat your back in a comforting manner as she admitted, “I overheard Otto call Seokjin to come pick you up and get you out of there.”

Otto was one of the roadies and Seokjin’s right hand backstage. You didn’t know he initiated your removal from the venue, and you didn’t particularly like being excluded when you thought you could have been helpful. Clearly, the stage management team thought otherwise.

“I’m with Maggie,” Luna said; she knew you’d expect her to back you up, so she spoke before you could. “If something happens, you can still go back. A few drinks won’t hurt.”

“Yeah, and besides,” Maggie raised her glass, “if the boys get to drink, we should, too.”

The two girls laughed at this, clinking their glasses—it seemed like an appropriate toast—but you needed another minute in your managerial role before you could fully detach yourself.

“What do you mean?” you asked. “Who’s drinking?”

You directed your attention at Luna—your gaze inquiring about her boyfriend’s whereabouts—and she swallowed her drink before speaking. “I don’t know. Taehyung is asleep on the bus.”

“It’s Jungkook,” Maggie answered you. “I saw him leave with his friends.”

You closed your eyes, realising that you should have expected this.

Everything seemed to have been decided for you – you weren’t required back at the venue and you couldn’t, exactly, stumble around the streets of Berlin in search of Jungkook and his friends, either.

If anything, you were required here as your friends watched you expectantly.

They were right, really. A few drinks weren’t going to be a problem if you’d get a call (that is, if your phone wouldn’t die until then). And you were tired, anyway—to the point where sleep evaded you sometimes, just because you craved it so much. Alcohol might even help in this case.

However, as soon as you finally tasted the cocktail in your glass, you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You glanced at your friends first—they were either lifting their eyebrows (in Maggie’s case) or rolling their eyes (in Luna’s)—then you swallowed and turned around.

“What a coincidence!” Sid exclaimed when your eyes met.

A part of you—a dark impulse that you didn’t try particularly hard to control—wanted to toss your remaining drink right at him; like holy water at a possessed child. Begone, demon.

Before you could react, however, Jungkook rushed into the bar from outside. You merely had enough time to grasp what was happening—the bar that Maggie had picked happened to be the same one that Jungkook and his friends had been drinking in—before Jungkook pulled on Sid’s shoulder, forcefully dragging him away from you.

“He was just leaving,” he said briskly.

Sid tried to resist, but Jungkook had more strength—and far more determination. “I wasn’t. I’m actually—”

“He’s leaving,” Jungkook repeated with a strictness in his voice that you weren’t sure you’d heard before.

“What are you even doing here?” Sid whined at his friend as he was tossed to a side that was furthest away from you. “I thought you were waiting outside.”

“You took too long,” Jungkook mumbled. “Go.”

Sid groaned, but allowed the younger boy to literally drag him away. Once Minjun was close enough, he took over and grabbed the side of Sid’s jacket, pushing him through the door of the bar.

Jungkook looked back at you and gave you a small nod—as though encouraging you to stay with your friends instead of going after him to check up on him. You nodded back, thus allowing him to walk outside after Sid.

Jungkook was fuming.

Things had been going well tonight; he’d actually had a nice night with his friends and even forgot that these were the same people who pushed him into this bet.

But then he was forced to watch—in horror—as Sid approached you back at the bar, and he remembered everything.

So, while Sid pushed Minjun off of himself, Jungkook snarled, “I thought it was clear that you can’t fucking talk to her.”

Sid only shrugged and pulled out a cigarette from a pack inside his jacket pocket. “I just went over to say hi.”

“Don’t.”

Sid rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t going to mention the bet,” he spoke and offered cigarettes to Jude and Minjun first, then to Jungkook. All three of them took one each. Sid lit his up and continued, “you can’t forbid me from talking to her altogether.”

“Actually, I can,” Jungkook replied, still irritated that he hadn’t been there—once again—to stop Sid from approaching you. “And that’s exactly what I’m doing now.”

Despite the argument, Jungkook took Sid’s lighter when he offered it to him. In doing so, he realised that the paradox of this situation summarised their friendship fairly well. It had always been like this between him and Sid: constantly bantering and arguing, but staying friends, nevertheless.

“Why?” Sid asked with a grin, perpetually amused by Jungkook’s protectiveness. He blew smoke out and asked, “scared I’ll steal her from you?”

Jude and Minjun snorted in unison. The mocking sound took Sid’s attention off Jungkook as he glowered at them.

“You’re drunker than I thought,” Minjun commented, bolder than Jude was under Sid’s glare.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Sid challenged. “You all know I’m one of a fucking kind.”

Now Jude and Minjun were nearly howling with laughter, and even Jungkook couldn’t resist smirking. Meanwhile, Sid’s frown deepened. He liked to tease others; he didn’t like to be teased—never mind that he was setting himself up for mockery.

“You’re not shit,” Jude retorted, too drunk to come up with a wittier comeback. “She would never go for you.”

“No, he had a point,” Jungkook said. “She’s never hated anyone for as long as I’ve known her. Except for him.” He turned to Sid with a derisive grin. “So, you really are one of a kind.”

“Oh, I see,” Sid laughed humourlessly. He took another drag and then said to Jungkook—not even blinking as he watched him, “tonight was fun. But it’s going to get even better once you lose the bet.”

Jungkook remained apathetic as he removed the cigarette from his lips. “I won’t.”

“You will,” Sid insisted. His intense staring was an intimidation tactic that Jungkook had already grown accustomed to. He did not twitch or back away when Sid leaned in closer. “And you know why? Because you’re in love with her.”

This time, he wasn’t going to argue otherwise. Sid had used this as a weapon, he meant to ridicule him with it. But Jungkook—in this tipsy and tired state—realised that his self-esteem didn’t depend on whether his friends thought he still loved you or not.

Before, he had been eager to show them that he didn’t care about you—he thought that was the only way he could prove that his friends weren’t significantly better than him just because they weren’t in love with anyone.

Now he was going to show them that he did care about you, and caring still didn’t make him inferior.

“This might be disappointing to you,��� Jungkook retorted, “but I can be in love with her and still make you lose.”

“See,” Sid said, grinning because this confession was precisely what he was coaxing out of Jungkook. And it was precisely the reason why Sid thought Jungkook would never win against him—be it a bet, or just in life in general. “But I don’t think you can.”

“Sit back and watch me, then,” Jungkook replied, blowing smoke out in Sid’s face. He pulled back immediately and the dissatisfied frown on his face was, simply put, beautiful.

Back inside, the girls chose to avoid discussing what had just happened with you. They had their reasons for changing the topic, too: Maggie had a policy against all boys who dared to interrupt your girls’ night, and Luna simply knew that if you continued to talk about this, you’d be more tempted to go out and check if Jungkook wasn’t getting into trouble.

But not even ten minutes later—just when you’d finished your second glass—Jungkook himself unexpectedly returned to the bar. You’d noticed him from across the room, and the second your eyes met, he made a beeline for you.

“Sorry about that before,” he said to everyone at your table, nodding apologetically at Luna and Maggie. “I, um, wanted to let you know that I’m going to be heading back. The bus is about to leave, right?”

Still surprised by his sudden reappearance, you were slow to pick your phone up. The battery had finally given in; you couldn’t tell what time it was. Both girls noticed this and were about to pull their own electronics out, but Jungkook reacted first.

“It’s four-thirty,” he said helpfully. “The bar is closing soon.”

“Oh.” You nodded. “Yeah. The bus is leaving in an hour, probably. Where’s the rest of your posse?”

“They already left,” he said without a further comment. Instead, he asked, “actually, can I talk to you for a second before I go?”

You looked back at your friends—both of them gave you permissive nods with grins that might’ve made the Cheshire Cat run away in shame.

“Sure,” you told Jungkook and turned your head away from your friends as if you could pretend you hadn’t seen their teasing smiles—that only made them giggle more.

The two of you walked towards the nearly empty bar—reasonable people were asleep this early in the morning—which wasn’t very far from your booth, but you figured the music played loud enough to drown your conversation out.

“So, um,” Jungkook began slowly—awkwardly—as he leaned his elbow against the bar top. “How are you feeling after the trip and… everything?”

There was something endearing about the uncertainty with which he’d asked you this. Pursing your lips lightly to hide your smile, you said, “it should be me asking you that.”

“It’s not. I’m the one asking,” he said so matter-of-factly that your smile only widened. He added, “I’m fine anyway.”

“I’m okay, too,” you said. “Tired to the point of taking a nap right on this bar, but other than that, I’m fine.”

He glanced at the bar after you’d mentioned it—as if assessing if it’d be a comfortable enough place to sleep on.

“Will you, um—will you be okay going back?” he asked then.

Your smile was plain and obvious now; hiding it required too much effort. Maybe the drinks Maggie got you were laced with something.

“It should be me asking you that, too,” you said.

“I’ll be perfect,” he replied, waving his hand around dismissively. “But I can, uh, stay back,” he looked at your friends over his shoulder—you noticed them both turn away, having been caught staring. “But I don’t want to interrupt.”

“Oh, yeah, no,” you agreed, your eyes still locked on the girls. “Maggie has a strict no-boys rule.”

You weren’t sure if she heard you or if her sudden snickering was unrelated to your comment.

“Oh?” this seemed to pique his interest. “Are you going to get in trouble now?”

“Probably,” you said casually enough. Trouble with Maggie usually meant more drinks, so you weren’t particularly worried. “She might already have a penalty for me.”

Despite you making it sound like this wasn’t the first time a boy interrupted your girls’ night to talk to you, Jungkook felt himself smile—he was the boy you’d broken Maggie’s rule for tonight.

“Because of me?” he still asked, a noticeable sense of entitlement behind his words.

“Don’t get excited.”

He snorted. “What’s the penalty? I’ll do it for you.”

“I’ll do it myself,” you said with a sigh as you extended your hands and laid your head on the bartop. “But some other night. I’m shutting down now.” You noticed the flash of concern in his eyes after you’d said that and added, “I’ll be fine. We’ll be heading back soon anyway. Get back to your friends.”

Your last sentence made him pause.

“That’s—” he stopped for another moment to mentally rewind through all the years that he’s known you. “That’s probably the first time you said that.”

You shrugged, having just enough energy to tease, “I trust Minjun.”

“Minju—but not me?” he questioned, offended.

“I’m working on it.”

“Well, how do I speed that up, then?”

“You can’t.”

He watched you for a minute, analysing your face for a possible option. He offered, “another trip to Paris?”

You knew he was joking, but you still grunted in refusal—that only made his teasing smirk widen.

“That’ll do the opposite,” you said. “I’m not going off-tour again. Look what happened tonight.”

You weren’t completely serious, but you couldn’t help but still feel uncomfortable that you had the leisure to travel Europe and drink with your friends, while the rest of the staff had to struggle with a stage set that was, apparently, falling apart.

Jungkook wasn’t sure if you genuinely blamed yourself or if this was just an illustrative exaggeration—your tired face was hard to read.

“Our trip to Paris is unrelated to what happened with the stage tonight,” he assured you in any case.

“Related or not,” you said and yawned mid-word, “now I can’t get proper sleep.”

His reaction was immediate—with one hand on your palm that you’d rested on the bar top, and another one on your waist, he encouraged, “come on, then. I’ll take you back to the bus. Let’s sleep.”

You were tempted—not just because his touch was warm and soft, but also because the thought of sleep seemed so satisfying right now that even the music in the bar faded into the background.

Still, you resisted, “the girls—”

“We’re fine!” Luna hollered; her glass raised. She was already tipsy and, obviously, had been waiting for an opening to give you permission to leave. “Maggie and I are going to stay back a while.”

You lifted your head to look at your friends again and caught them both smirking at you. They had seemingly overheard the entirety of your conversation, never mind the music.

“The bar closes in half an hour,” you reminded them with a frown. Jungkook’s hands were still on you—more supportive than before as soon as he felt the gentle sway of your tired body.

“We’ll find a way to keep ourselves busy until it’s time to leave,” Maggie added—which surprised you. Normally, it was the three of you against anyone who dared to interrupt your night. “You two can go ahead.”

You turned to Jungkook, who nodded at the door and seemed to make this decision for you. You really needed that today and you were quite unashamed about it; if anything, you appreciated everyone else deciding what you’d do for once.

You stood up properly and took a step away from him—he had to let go and did so reluctantly—to pick up your phone and your handbag from the booth. Your friends watched you, beaming, and you caught yourself before you began to smile, too.

Then, you allowed Jungkook to take you back to the bus.

It wasn’t a long walk, but you felt too drained to even take your shoes off when you got back. Plugging your phone in to charge, you laid down on your bunk, still in your clothes, and looked over at Jungkook.

Stubbornly, he refused to go to sleep until he was sure you were settled, so he was leaning against the partition wall between the opposite row of bunks.

“I’m still waiting until my phone will charge some,” you said, trying to make him reconsider. You paused to yawn again, then explained, “so I can check on the rest of our staff.”

“I’ll wait with you, then,” he said.

“No,” your firm voice got him to stop unexpectedly—he was already approaching you. “You hadn’t gotten any sleep, either. And you performed a whole gig tonight. Go to sleep.”

He resumed his journey and took a seat next to you on your bunk. “I’ll wait.”

You rolled over on your back to look at him. “You literally don’t have to do that.”

“And I’ll do it anyway.”

You exhaled, far too tired to argue about this. Your eyes could barely stay open enough to make sure he really was sitting on your bunk, and you hadn’t just dreamt him—the possibility wasn’t far-fetched, after all. It’s happened before.

“You shouldn’t,” you said softly, your eyes fluttering shut.

“I’m an adult, right? You said so,” he reminded you. You were worried that your words at the wedding would come back to bite you. “So, I can stay up waiting with you if I want.”

You sighed in response, your mind refusing to think of any more arguments or questions about why he found it necessary to bother waiting with you.

Satisfied, Jungkook scooted deeper into your bunk and crossed his legs, getting more comfortable.

He did as he’d promised—waited with you until your phone charged enough to make a phone call. Then he brought you water, because you called Seokjin and couldn’t say a word, your throat too dry to speak.

And then, half an hour later, when you were already asleep and he was sure you wouldn’t remember, he pulled your duvet over your body—so you wouldn’t get cold—and pressed a soft, tentative kiss to your forehead—so he wouldn’t, either.

chapter title credits: palaye royale, “toxic in you”

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[marymary-diva17]

Tonowari x Mai/Ty Lee! (From: Avatar the Last Airbender) Fem! Reader x Ronal (poly mates)/ Aonung x Tsireya x Rotxo x Fem Reader (platonic/parental relationship):

Basically the Reader is like Mai but has the flexibility of Ty Lee. Anyways the he reader wasn’t there when the Sully’s arrived so she has never met them. So when she comes back she sees Jake and thinks that he is a threat so she goes into protection mode. So then they start to fight and (the Reader has throwing starts and is really flexible so she’s able to doge all his attacks) this attracts a huge crowd and when Neytiri sees her mate being attacked she steps in and also fights with the Reader (so now it 2v1). You can continue it from here.

P.s. Can it be after the second movie and Neteyam lives.

Thank you.

Tonowari x reader x ronal

I have been given similar request for tonowari x reader x ronal like this before. I will still do the request of the reader being like Mai and ty lee, but there are going to be some changes to the story.

Pandora is a world that is always filled with mystery, beauty, and wonder no matter where you live on the planet. The navi who lived on pandora and worship the great mother, had always found a way to make something with life. There are many ways of living life on Pandora some of them similar and different. Pandora had been also filled with peace and war, even due these two situations are happening everyone had been able to make way with their lives on pandora and within their clans.

tonowari " yanwtu"

y/n " yes ma tonowari" you are standing on the beach gather some fruit.

tonowari " I was wondering if you can help me with Jake sully and his family and some friends" the sully family had arrived here yesterday and the who clan was shocked by their arrival.

y/n " I will love to help I was going to offer my help"

tonowari " that what I love about you"

y/n " good I'm guessing our ronal not willing to help at the moment"

tonowari " she doing her own with mo'at and the healers I don't think, it will be a good idea to leave her and neytiri in the same room unsupervised" you had nodded your head knowing that was the truth, as the stand off between the two was not very good.

?????? " mom" you and tonowari and seen tsireya making her way over to them, she soon stopped when she reached her mom. Looking at you with bright eyes and smile on her face.

y/n " hello my daughter now what go you in such a rush"

tisreya " well I was hoping if you can help my and the boys, with the sully kids and spider they wish to know of some of the moves you taught us"

tonowari " well my daughter it had asked your mom the same question" tonowari ahd walked towards tsireya and brought her close to him.

tsireya " what did you say mom"

????? " mom" even before you could open your mouth and say anything aonung and rotxo had come running over.

aonung " hey mom can you help us with the sully kids please"

rotox " yes it will be fun"

tsireya " well before you all came she was about to answer mine and baba question"

aonung " oh really mom please say yes beauty please, it will be fun and making lessons more interesting there so many times you can laugh at someone when they fall off an IIu ...ahh baba"

tonowari " be nice young man"

rotox " please mom it will be good for us and them and it can help us become friends"

y/n " well you all give good reason and I originally did say yes to your baba"

tsireya " wiat it no longer a yes"

y/n " it still a yes my children and I was going to ask to see if I can help them already, before I was asked"

the kids " yes"

tonowari " thank you ma y/n and please go easy on them"

y/n " oh yes I will go easy on the children as the adult I will do my best"

tonowari " I know you will"

y/n " good"

The next day

Y/n " bring the sully family and anyone else who wish to come to the beach"

tsireya " yes mom we will meet you there"

y/n " good"

ronal " I still can't you are going to teach them all you know"

y/n " I'm going to teach them some stuff but not everything"

ronal " good you don't need to be sharing all your secrets and skills" you had kissed ronal goodbye as you soon left the home and headed home, there are some skills that good amount of navi knew about and you were one of those navi. You had soon reached the beach and waited for the arrival of everyone else.

tsireya " everyone this is our mom she will be helping you all with some combat lessons or self defense"

tsu'tey " this small women is your mother she doesn't seem like a warrior more like a healer or gather"

aonung " well she also those at along with some other stuff as well"

neytiri " umm what can she tech as we have been through many battles, she seems like she done none"

y/n " fine let see what I can you as fighting you three came at me and, see if you can beat me"

Jake " are you sure about this we rather not hurt the mate of tonowari and ronal"

y/n " it will be okay" Soon all three adults had looked at each other tsutey was the first one to changer at you, and you soon enouh jumped over him.

tsu'tey " huh" you soon hit tsu'tey in his arms he soon left his limbs go numb.

tsu'tey " what have you done to me" you soon hit him in his legs and rib cage soon sending him to the ground.

tsu'tey " how is that possible I can't move"

Jake " nice trick but try to take on a man who has human training" now Jake had came at you a you ran him he tried to get you but he missed you soon tossed something at him wrapping his legs and arms up.

Jake " what the heck" you soon tap Jake on the forehead sending him falling down to the sandy ground.

neytiri " you will pay for what you did to my husband and tsu'tey"

y/n " then let go" neytiri had came to you and you soon started fighting her but when neytiri had thought she had, the upper hand she was soon brought down when you ahd beat her. Doing the same things you did to Jake and tsu'tey.

y/n " well what do you three think about me now"

rotxo " umm mom"

y/n " umm oh I did to much"

the kids " that amazing"

y/n " huh"

spider " that was amazing you moved and did that all like it was nothing"

y/n " oh thank you"

neteyam " your mother is amazing fighter"

y/n " thank you"

kiri " how did you do those moves"

y/n " well it something I learned when I was very young"

mo'at " that was wonderful" everyone soon saw mo'at standing with a crowd of people that came to see.

tuk " grandmother did you see that"

mo'at " yes I have know of clan doing that but never see it before"

y/n " yes I from a clan like that I have leaned this skills and perfected them over the years"

Jake " that good to hear umm if you don't mind can you undo what happened here"

y/n " oh yes" you ahd freed Jake first and soon undid what you had done to tsu'tey and neytiri.

neytiri " that was amazing you are one of the few women that can, keep up to me"

y/n " thanks"

kiri " can you teach us what you had done"

y/n " well yes and can teach you the combat skills and the draggers I used but it can't do the other stuff"

kids " aww'

y/n " maybe when you all get older we can come back to this subject"

tsireya " yes mom"

tsu'tey You are a good fighting you help me learn a thing or two"

y/n " thank you" you had kept the end of your promise and showed, the kdis some combat and defensive moves as well. When it came to the adults you had some them some of your moves that you used against them and helped them learn more about it. It seems like no matter where anyone else on Pandora there will always be wonder, and beauty and you seem to be one of those wonder and beauty as well.

[thelostgirl21]

Somehow, I don't think I've ever truly taken the time to appreciate just how sort of... ridiculous Radovid's introduction scene is?

Not Radovid himself, he's adorable!

But it does make you wonder...

How often does King Vizimir just... randomly yell his name at the top of his lungs like that to get his attention, and then, just... basically lets him carry on, because turns out he didn't want anything from him?

He's like: "Nah, don't worry about it, 'bro! I just felt like loudly shouting your name in a crowd rather than simply telling Dijkstra that I'd decided you'd be leading the 'Princess Ciri finding efforts' from now on! Just reminding him of how adorable you are, you know? Look Dijkstra? Isn't he adorable? That's my baby brother with his little bottle making cute little "whoo! " sounds right there..."

Because, you know, once Radovid realises that his brother is calling him, he makes literally no effort to go see him, either!

I know he's playing dumb/drunk, but still!

"What's that?! Oh, okay! It's just Vizimir trying to locate me. Whoo!"

WHAT *IS* THAT?!

It's like a parent at a children's party suddenly going "SAMUEL!".

Child: *Stops playing to look at their parent.* "What?!"

Parent: "Oh, no worry, honey! I just wanted to make sure you hadn't run off, drowned in the pool, got kidnapped or something! But I see you've got your grape juice bottle and are having fun with your friends, everything's fine! Go on!" Child: "Yay!"

I mean, you might reasonably expect King Vizimir to shout Radovid's name in a crowd like that to get his attention so he can motion to him to come over, and then introduce him to someone he's never met before.

Which, on a meta level, is technically what he's doing: introducing Radovid to the audience.

But in Universe?!?!

It's Dijkstra. Dijkstra knows who the crown prince of Redania is, Vizimir! You could've just told him, and he'd have gotten it! No need to get all dramatic about it!

TL;DR: King Vizimir is a ridiculous drama queen that loves showing off his pet baby brother every chance he gets!

And Radovid's gotten so used to it by now, that he's totally stopped attempting to figure out what his big brother wants when he calls him.

What if it's not just Vizimir, though, and Radovid just has that reputation for constantly getting himself into trouble if left unsupervised for too long.

So, people at court have a habit of periodically shouting his name; just to get him to manifest himself in large crowds, or crawl out of whatever hole or tight space he's crammed himself into, make eye contact, and locate him.

Therefore, in my new personal headcanon, there's now a scene at the Thanedd Ball that pretty much goes:

- Dijkstra: "RADOVID!" - Philippa: *walking over to him* "I think I saw him leave earlier with his royal security detail. He's probably sniffed out the bard's scent..." - Dijkstra: "Oh, good! You made sure those guards understood their assignment, right?" Philippa: "Of course!"

***Meanwhile, in the nearby woods.***

- Captain of the guards: "RADOVID!" - Other guard: "It's no use sir, we've lost him! " - Captain: "Gods damnit! Dijkstra won't be pleased..." - Radovid: *having already put plenty of distance between them, on his way to go see Jaskier* "Whoo!"

It's a good thing Philippa wasn't with them, or what might have happened would have been something closer to:

- Philippa: "Don't worry! I've got this!" *in whispering tones* "Sabrina was right. Valdo Marx's compositions are far superior to Jask -" - Radovid: *instantly traveling across space and time to appear right before her* "Valdo Marx has NOTHING on Jaskier! His sublime ethereal melodies, and the poetry of his lyrics, elevate the bardic arts to -" - Philippa: "Oh. Look. There he is!"

[eldritch-spouse]

We’ve got tiny reader, tiny tce, what about tiny icon queen? 

“Oh, woe is me~ lost in a huge mansion spending what feels like an eternity wandering from room to room looking for my beloved”

Seriously though. Can you imagine how long it would take a shrunken person to make their way from a bedroom, probably down a flight of stairs, and into a dining room; where they finally meet up with their icon to show them what happened. 

The Queen is tiny 👑

Zizz is so in love with you like this. He was before, but now- You're literally plush sized. You have become his plush. He's going to put you in nice puffy clothes and nap with you held to his chest and just generally non-stop coo at you forever. He needs to kiss you on your tiny forehead at least twenty times a day or he will die.

Rinx is keeping you in his pockets. It's much easier to keep track of you at this size, it makes something in his little kleptomaniac, possessive brain very happy. Even though Rinx is the one with the orb-head, you'll find yourself the one being pondered intensely. He puts you on top of his tallest pile of riches and swoons to himself, giggling like a school girl.

Cero makes it clear that, although drastically smaller, you're still a Queen, and as such you must behave the exact same way. He'll get you smaller paraphernalia for the time being, keep carrying yourself elegantly. No, he's not carrying you because he likes the feeling of you on his palm, Cero just can't take your much slower pace. He has way too much fun putting you in a small dress but won't admit it.

Good news, Kalymir won't throw you at a wall. But intrusive thoughts tell him to squish you, so he doesn't hold you for too long. He does however, mock you the entire day. You're even weaker! It's hilarious to him. The King pins you with his thumb and index and watches you squirm to get out, biting and cursing. He wants a picture of you next to his DOOM guy figurine.

Vesper... Come on. You know he's immediately going to jam you in his slit. Get cozy in there, you're not leaving for a while, except when he really can't keep his cocks in anymore and doesn't want to crush you. That doesn't mean the debauchery is over, you won't be left alone for a long while, but you can rest on his fluff when you're too fucked out to care about anything anymore.

Vorticia orders her imps to lock you in a container she can't break, because she knows she'll just swallow you if she's left unsupervised with you for long enough. In fact, she spends the entire day trying to keep herself busy, a mixture of cuteness aggression and genuine hunger having her periodically stop to stretch her jaw around your container before she gets a hold of herself and apologizes.

Livius is squealing out loud. He might enter cardiac arrest at his young age. He gets you a little outfit like his and beads he can put in your hair yo mimic his rings. And then he just carries you absolutely everywhere like an invaluable treasure, hissing and snapping at whoever stares at you. With his Queen like this, there's nothing that could steal your attention from him. Why, he just has to wrap his hands around you and hide you from the world.

[realmofthefandoms]

Harry Potter: The underrated teachers with a Klee-like!Child!Reader (HCs) *GN Reader*

Professor Sybill Trelawney:

Shes like that super fun yet crazy aunt that just kinda gives you good yet confusing advice that doesn't make sense like 90% of the time

Honestly shes like confused with your behavior and is like panicking sometimes whenever she sees you with your little Jumpty Dumpty bombs

And she legit flinches when she hears you bombs go off but then forgets about it not even a second later

Dumbledore just sighs as he now has to pay for the damages but also he just sees you running around with bombs scaring students and Sybill just sits there while sipping tea and talking gibberish

Honorable mention that she always reads your fortune and if shes you get hurt she forbids you from doing anything

You are also not to be trusted unsupervised but that never gets followed up on so...

Rubeus Hagrid:

I'm gonna be honest he kinda keeps his distance from you and rarely takes care of you because he's scared of hurting you (like he's massive dude)

But he started taking more care of you when he found you setting bombs off in the meadows for fun and quote on quote "trying out combos to see what makes it go boom boom BOOM"

Lets be honest, all his magical creatures either love you, dislike you, or are as chaotic as you

An example of this would be the Acromantula colony helping you make different types of bombs using their webs and in return you bring them sacrifice (mostly chicken and beef)

Professor Pomona Sprout:

Concerned aunt #1??

90% of the time is extremely confused and concerned but soon realizes that she can basically do nothing and just kinda lets you go about exploding things

As long as no one gets hurt she just kinda lets you go about and legit makes the "0-0" face every time

Just stay away from her precious plants though!

Professor Filius Flitwick:

Anxious dad who is basically damage control like he supports you but child...WHY DO YOU HAVE A BOMB-

Like he gets it, you're a kid but he doesn't understand where you get your cutesy bombs and how??? Like he's very concerned and he'd randomly be teaching class until he hears a "KABOOM"

Then he just sighs and excuses himself. His students could hear him saying "Y/N, stop moving! I'm a short man you know!" while you're skipping away giggling while holding a plush that Is actually a fucking bomb-

But luckily he's a charms teacher and can usually repair any damage you've done

But please don't give this sweet man a heart attack :(

Firenze:

Has no clue what to do like...why is a human child making cute little bombs and enjoying blowing up things??

He honestly found you scaring Chimera's and Acromantula's by blowing up bombs around and giggling each time the creatures scattered (and in all honesty, he was sent by the centaurs to see what the hell is going on)

Tries to watch over you but realizes its futile because you'll blow lakes up no matter what so he just tries to guide you somewhere where you wont bother anything in the dark forest but also where you wont accidentally blow up anyone too..

Another damages control but even he has to admit that for a human child you certainly are a jewel (not gonna lie some of the centaurs kinda adore you because you're mostly nice and harmless and you scare most of the students at Hogwarts and get them to leave the dark forest so)

[forestryfae]

i like to think klarion just. stole a house and put it in his own magic pocket dimension or something.

either that or vandal just kinda got him a house so hed stop waking up in the morning, walking into the kitchen to get some coffee, only to be greeted with the sight of klarion dead asleep face down on the couch, teekl on top of the kitchen counter licking a brownie, and the kitchen looking like masterchef if masterchef allowed you to put grenades in the batter

also lowkey like the idea of klarion just. not living anywhere. once hes done doing chaos in one place he moves to another place and does chaos there, and never actually stops anywhere for long, at most around the time it takes to steal food from someone and eating it before youre caught or possibly taking a catnap. hes chaos personified, he doesnt really need magic artifacts or spellbooks to do chaos or magic, so he doesnt really need anywhere to store that stuff. if he needs something he takes it from wherever and leaves it wherever. altho def think klarion enjoys theft and stealing stuff just cus he wants it so it would make sense hes got like a lil nest of stolen shiny stuff hidden somwhere even if he doesnt live there

the point is, vandal does not allow klarion into his kitchen unsupervised (not that that helps since klarion refuses to listen) and hes NOT eating anything klarion cooks (could be poisoned) (definitely has cathair in it) (vandal knows that because he SAW teekl put her paw in the batter) (theres hazelnuts in the brownies) (vandal doesnt like hazelnuts) (or cathair)

[kastalani123]

Since I like the idea that Hera genuinely cares about Leo, I've also thought about ways she might show it and. And I've decided that, Understanding that becoming 16 is Important for mortals, she basically dropped a basket with a pair of peachicks in Leo's lap for his birthday

They're an Indian peacock and peahen pair from the same clutch that he's named Gear and Tinker and they are his babies

They're also, while mortal, not exactly Normal™ as they're smarter than an average peacock

They were also slightly confused about being Gryphons due to being raised alongside Heloise and Abelard's chick but have eventually stopped trying to collect chunks of gold bigger than them

Gear is more mischievous while Tinker is more aggressive and reserved

They will both jump on Leo's unsuspecting back, though

He started training his balance and awareness for the sake of not being constantly knocked to the ground

Georgie likes playing tag with them even though sometimes they peck too hard and leave marks

They both adore Annabeth but despise Thalia

Their opinion of other non-Waystation residents depends on how many treats they give them

Y'know how a lot of zoos have free-roaming peacocks?? Yeah, that's what happens once Leo and Calypso finally open up their store; wherever you look in the store, they're There

Leo also brings them along when hanging out with the local foster/homeless kids and they adore the attention

Tinker will steal food from your plate if you look away for one second (peafowl are, in fact, omnivores that will eat anything if given the chance)

Gear is more picky

Apollo really likes them because they will commit war crimes to get rid of any snake they see; he thinks they'd have been a big help against Python

Gear keeps trying to steal Lit's sword with the Gryphon chick's help

Josephine is adored above all but Leo for always sneaking them extra food

Emmie is mildly disliked because she keeps trying to stop it; she's very good at helping them preen, though, so she gets a pass

Sssssarah avoids them because they will attack her if no one else is around

Tinker dislikes Jamie for no known reason but Gear loves him

Calypso doesn't know how to act around them. She has tried everything to win them over. They don't seem to hate her, but they're certainly not fawning for her attention unless she has food either. Leo finds her concern about getting them to love her funny but tries to help anyway

Tinker will fight the battle ostriches if left unsupervised

I might add more if I come up with anything else

[shinyhoundhandseagle]

The Emerald of the Season

Eloise Bridgerton x Male Character

Part 6/?

Part 5: https://www.tumblr.com/shinyhoundhandseagle/756463239202799616/the-emerald-of-the-season

Part 7: https://www.tumblr.com/shinyhoundhandseagle/756660632227659776/the-emerald-of-the-season-par-7-eloise

Warning: Panic attack, mentions of depressive episodes, blood.

*Also this is mostly a Sebastian chapter.*

• • •

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“Do I look like I want to talk about it Marcel?”

Eloise hadn’t give him a second to explain himself. She had believed the worse and decided to throw him away. There wasn’t a second thought or hesitation on her part and that made him angry.

He wasn’t angry about the unsupervised visits or another man having her affections. He didn’t care about that and was willing to defend her actions, he trusted her and that is what made him angry. That he trusted her enough to not think the worst but she didn’t even need a second thought to think the worst of him. He had defend her in front of all those people and he couldn’t get a sentence in with her!

“Maybe you should step out”-. Lady Danbury’s voice was distant, a murmur that he didn’t care to hear as his mouth dried and his throat felt like closing.

“I can’t leave his side, specially when he is like this”-. Marcel made eye contact with Lady Danbury. He was worried about him, knowing what was coming-. “He gets… indisposed… not as bad as King George but…”

“Do you mean…?”

The sound of glass breaking caught their attention. A broken vase and dead flowers and drops of blood decorating the wooden floor. Sebastian sat on the floor, bloody shivering hands covering his eyes, cold sweat while shivering.

Lady Danbury reached for him but Marcel stopped her. He knew him better than anyone else, he had seen plenty of his panic episodes and he knew he would come out of it. He just needed space. Instead of hovering over him, Marcel chose to face Lady Danbury and quickly ask her for some chocolate?

“Your Prince is falling apart and you think it’s time for sweets?”

“Not for me, for him. It will help him after”.

Once Lady Danbury came back, with a plate of sweets in her free hand, she found Marcel kneeling next to the Prince, whispering to him while Sebastian nodded and hum to himself. He look weak and pale but more calm and composed.

“Would you like some sweets? That always makes you feel better”-. He offered, sounding more like begging than anything else. There was a weak ‘sure’ from him and while Danbury and Marcel stood in silence he started eating them. Marcel smiled and kissed the top of his head-. “You might also need a bath once we go back to the palace”.

He didn’t say anything back. Just ate or hum the same soft song. Lady Danbury had heard about King George’s outbursts but never seen one or even knew it was a family thing. Her heart was broken for the King once she had found out and now, looking at that poor child and his poor servant doing what he could, she felt more heartbroken than before.

• • •

The way back to the palace had been quiet, Marcel constantly looking at the Prince. Once he had calmed down they had left the ball as soon and as quietly as they could. Marcel hadn’t tried to talk to him as Sebastian seem so removed from what was happening that he was probably not going to respond and that was normal for him. His panic episodes came so fast and out of nowhere and usually lasted a few minutes but the aftermath usually took hours.

“She hates me”-. Was the first complete sentence that came out of his mouth after he was bathed and dressed for bed.

“My Prince?”

“Eloise”-. There was a tremor on his voice, a sadness that made hard to speak-. “I asked about her unsupervised visits and… she hates me and does not want to see me again”.

“She is probably hurt, we have seen the ton and you know how invasive and hateful they are”-. The reason was there but he seem too stubborn to listen-. “She was probably ostracize, not a good thing to feel”.

“I have shown her that I’m not like them, that I won’t treat her with the same amount of hate the ton uses and that still isn’t enough!”

“I think this is more than Lady Eloise thinking the worst”-. He spoke truthfully, like he always did-. “I understand this is not the first time someone thinks the worst out of you but you can’t let this take you away from someone you care about”.

“Watch yourself”.

“Are you going to cut my tongue or fire me? Because both of those things are out of your command”.

“Maybe I’ll make you disappear?”- Empty threats from a heartbroken boy weren’t going to make Marcel back down.

“Then you would be your father’s son and I don’t believe you have the want for that”.

“You seem pretty happy being alone”.

“While I understand you’re jealous of my amazing cheek bones, you can not be me”.

“I’m more attractive than you!”

“It’s nice to dream”-. They laughed like a old friends, because that’s what they were. Old friends.

“I don’t think she would take it back, she’s pretty stubborn”.

“That seem to be one of the reasons you have fallen for her”-. Sebastian nodded to that and that was the realization he needed.

He had fallen for her and hard. Fallen for her beautiful eyes and the smart, cocky mind of hers, for the witty comments and her ruthless personality. He loved and wanted her more that was his heart could bear.

“What am I supposed to do Marcel?”

“I have found that a grand gesture usually works but before that”- Before continuing he straighten his back and gave his Prince a stern look-. “you must show her that you do not care about the rumors. Show that things like that will not make you ashamed of her”.

“I must talk to the Queen then”.

• • •

Breakfast with the Queen was always nice. Good food and company was great but knowing her, the good company would not last forever.

“What did you wish to talk about?”- As always, the first one to break the silence was the Queen with a curious look over her eyes. He took a breath and decided to just get it over with.

“I have found the woman I wish to marry”-. She seem excited but he knew it was a matter of time before the judgement started-. “Eloise Bridgerton”.

“No!”- And the storm began. The Queen stood up, anger on her face. Her tone not leaving any room for discussion or so she thought.

“It’s funny that you believe it was a question”-. Marcel behind him swallowed, one thing was to make her slightly upset but this… this was something else.

“Everything is a question to me, I’m the Queen of England and Lady Eloise would be better remembering that nephew”-. That was a threat, not to him but to someone that he held dearly and that wasn’t going to be allowed.

“You might be the Queen but I’m not English, you have no power over political issues in Spain and YOU would be better remembering that”-. He stood tall and proud and for a second, the Queen saw George on him-. “It would also be good of you remembered that your biggest friend right now is Spain, would be nice if you didn’t insult their future Queen”.

“You would put our countries at war for a radical girl”-. She didn’t believe him, or most precisely she didn’t want to believe it.

“I could ask you the same question”-. There was no backing down now. Things were said and as monarchs there wasn’t a take back-. “Would you destroy us because of a dislike?”

It wasn’t often that the Queen back down but she had to. She knew her nephew and he was stubborn, just like her and if it was out of love? There wasn’t backing down for him. She sat back down, with a drilling stare and a smirk.

“I don’t dislike her, I’m just… overprotective. You have seen your cousins, falling in love with married women or prostitutes”-. She smiled softly at him, waiting for him to sit back down-. “I want to make sure this is what you desire and think its better for your crown”.

“If it makes you feel better… we’re not on speaking terms right now”-. He confessed and for the next hour he told her everything. From the moment the crashed to the courting to the last ball to finally the talk with Marcel.

“So I’m guessing you’re here for me to tell you a grand gesture”.

“No, my gesture is in it’s way as we speak”.

“Oh?”

“It was kind of pricey but worthy”.

• • •

It had been over a week since the ball and the Bridgerton house was quiet, too quiet and it was killing them. Eloise had closed herself on her room for most of the time and during calling hour she would said she was indisposed. A lot of men had shown up hoping to court her, as trying to outdo a Prince was the the only thing that matter, but were sent away. Violet watched, impotent, as her daughter withered away like a flower.

“Lady Bridgerton, there’s a caller for Lady Eloise”.

“Calling hour hasn’t even started and she will be indisposed”-. Violet sat on their drawing room, quiet while reading one of the latest Whistledown papers.

“I told him that and he said he won’t leave”-. She looked up, surprised and offended that so many Lords apparently lost the manners-. “He actually said that only the royal guard will be able to take him away”.

Before she could even finish the door open and Prince Sebastian made his entrance. Wearing gold and red, with a letter in his hand and an attitude of confidence that could intimidate the Queen. He seem worried.

“Lady Bridgerton, sorry for the abrupt entrance but… why is Eloise indisposed? Is she sick?”- She would be lying if she said she wasn’t surprised by his presence. He hadn’t made any appearances or gifts on the last week so she had thought he was done.

“My Prince”-. Regaining her composure, she stood up and did her courtesy and she studied him. While he seem confident, there was an air of sadness on him. The bags under his eyes were a testament of it-. “Eloise isn’t ill if that is what you’re worried about”.

“Then could I speak with her?”

“My Prince, I do not believe that would be a good idea”-. She wanted to seem firm, to protect her daughter of any more heartbreak.

“Lady Bridgerton, Violet please”-. The air of confidence was replaced by a cracking voice and shaking hands as he begged her-. “Just five minutes, that’s all I’m asking. A chance to explain”.

The agony on his eyes forced her to say yes. She decided that if someone had to go and get Eloise, it was her job. She wouldn’t come downstairs unless forced and she was the only one lately that could do it. The only condition that was asked was for him to wait outside the house while she tricked her into coming downstairs.

Her room was messy and dark, a smell of sorrow in every wall and silence that was deafening. Eloise was still in bed and not dressed for visitors but she was awake and that was a start.

“Eloise I need you downstairs”.

Silence.

“Eloise now”.

Nothing.

“Eloise, my daughter… please”.

“I do not wish to move”-. Her voice was weak and eyes puffy. She turned around on her bed, her back now facing Violet.

“It’s really important”.

She had to lie and basically drag her to get her out of bed. There wasn’t any complains as her daughter had just chosen to be silent and while that would have been a blessing a few months ago now it was just depressing. The walk downstairs was just as quiet and slow and once they made it to the drawing room she nodded to one of the maids.

“What is so important that I must be out of bed?”- Sad and now impatient, definitely not the best combination for a conversation. The door opened, revealing once again the Prince.

Eloise stopped complaining the second she saw him. It would be easier if the feelings had disappeared that night. If she didn’t want to be held by him but she did. She still wanted him and that was killing her.

“Lady Bridgerton, would we be able to speak alone?”

For the first time in her adult life, Violet forgot about their protocol or the chaperone rule and left them without complains just a look of strength to her daughter.

“Why are you here?”

“El, let me speak”-. That was going to be almost impossible but he could try-. “I need to explai…”

“I told you I didn’t wish to see you anymore, that you weren’t courting me anymore”-. Her defensive tone told him all he needed to know-. “I am not going to be insult…”

“Silence!”- This was the first time that he had risen his voice to her and still, there wasn’t any desire to be cruel or to hurt her in any way-. “You have spoken, you have said everything you wanted to say and it’s my turn now!”

The silence filled the room for a couple minutes while Eloise sat down, looked at him and, for the first time since he meet her, was completely silent. He took a breath and finally let everything out.

“I apologize if I made you feel like I planned on judging you, I wasn’t going to but I understand if you felt like that. When I said the consequences and implications it was not because I cared but if I must defend you from the ton, from the Queen herself, I MUST know where the issue lies. I personally don’t care Eloise. I don’t care about the ton, I don’t care about your visits or the Queen and I don’t care if another man has had your affections. The past has happened and the only thing I care about is you”-. He stopped, needing another minute for what he was about to say as he kneeled in front of her-. “I care for you, I yearn for you in ways I have not yearned before. This past week has been a nightmare, my soul feels like crawling out of my chest just to look for you and I’m content with allowing it. You don’t have to feel the same but I would give you my crown, my mind, my soul just for a second in the heavens that your eyes have given me”.

Eloise felt so much at in a few seconds. From sadness, to longing, love and finally a carnal hunger and everything felt so fresh and so much that she just acted. Grabbed his face with her hands and kissed him.

It was frantic, messy and completely out of nowhere but it felt right. To be this close to him, to want him this much, it had to be right and if not, she didn’t care at all.

Only thing that mattered was this.

[gallusrostromegalus]

I love everything you are doing with Orihime, if it's not too much troble, I wanted to hear more of what she does when she get kidnapped. Also did Rukia try anything when she got sentenced to death for bulshit crimes? It's been forever since I read the manga, so I don't remember what rukia was feeling exactly during this time, if she accepted the whole thing bc she has spent way too much time in the soul society that she just didn't see it how much bulshit it was or something else, or if it was just your standard damsel in distress thing

Rukia behaves in the calm, rational but firm way you'd expect out of a seated officer, especially a lieutenant that earned her position through hard work and demonstration after demonstration that she could be trusted with such a position.

...Byakuya, on the other hand, was appointed to his position by birthright as the latest scion of a long but narrow line of people who retained their power by violence as social standing. So when Byakuya experiences the psychotic crisis of "the people you respect the most want the person you love the most dead", the coinflip of his emotions lands on tails in AEIWAM.

*****

"...To Death?" She asked, staring at Renji.

"Yeah." He winced, shifting uncomfortably.

"...For a Misdemeanor Infraction that, per code 3.15.27846 sub-section 42-4, carries a MAXIMUM penalty of a month's suspension without pay while a performance review is conducted, and, pending the review, possible termination of my job, not my whole person?" She continued.

"...Um. Yeah, yeah that's the official rules per the Shingami Legal Manual." Said Renji. "It's real fuc- it's very peculiar and I'm honestly not sure what to make of it. Also, when did you learn to quote the manual like-"

"I'm a Goddamn Lieutenant, I know the law, and this stinks on ice." She glared. "I know I'm not allowed to question the orders or ask who issued them, but did you double-check that this is, in fact, what they meant to send, and didn't give you the memo for someone else or send out the wrong butterfly?"

"Um." Renji winced, pointedly studying the wall to his left. "Kuchiki-Taicho went to do that as soon as he saw the order."

Rukia blanched. "Renji. When did he leave?"

"He left for the central 46's liaison office directly from the 6th division's office when we got the order about an hour ago. I wanted to go with him, but he insisted that he could handle it and that you should get the news from me rather than a stranger."

"Abarai Renji." She spoke, voice low and dangerous. "Do you remember what happened the first day I came home from the 13th division boot camp with that shiner?'

"Yeah, Kuchiki-taicho broke into Ukitake-taicho's house with Senbonsakura at 2AM because he thought someone had hit yo-" Renji laughed then stopped. "-Oh."

"You let my brother, the absolute last person you can expect to behave in a rational and restrained manner to any perceived threats to my person, go off to visit someone who just issued an order for my extermination? UNSUPERVISED?" She growled.

Renji stood, paralyzed in wide-eyed horror. "I. uh. I gotta go prevent some treason." he sputtered, before bolting from the room.

***** "I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked uuuuuup-" Gin hissed under his breath as he ran through the maze of buildings that made up the central government's compound. "Sure Gin! Keep feeding him spiritual power Gin! It'll fix everything Gin! No way he's going to cause a massive inter-dimensional destabilization event Gin!"

He turned the corner to the central 46's liaison office, just to the side of the sealed gate, and sprinted for the small office at the base of the tower all Hell butterflies issued from, where the Gate's security guard and the Liaison worked.

"Hey guys sorry to burst in here but it's kind of an Emergen... cy." Gin shouted and then sputtered as something warm splashed underfoot. He looked down to find that the previously-beige carpet of the Liaison's office was now a deep and unpleasantly wet crimson. Behind him, there was a faint creak as the unsealed and unguarded gate swayed lightly in the breeze.

"Oh." Gin realized, wilting. "I'm in deep shit."

[illunicae]

I'm bored and don't have anything finished to publish yet, so I figured I'd introduce you to a Spidersona/Risesona of mine: Vesper Munroe. But using incorrect quotes...

Ves: Can I ask you another question? Donnie: Yeah! Ves: Of your three brothers– Donnie: I’m gonna stop you there. You have free-rein to ask me any question you want. Go ahead. Ves: Of your three brothers… who do you think is the better kisser? Donnie: I take back exa–like what I just said–I take THAT back

Ves: I wouldn’t wish that upon my worst enemy! Ves: Unless of course. We’re talking about my enemy, Kendra. Fuck you Kendra, you know what you did!

Mikey: So, are you two friends? Ves: Yes. Donnie: No.

Ves, texting Donnie: Donnie! Help I’m being kidnapped Donnie: Where are you? Ves: I’m with some strange person. In a car. Help. Donnie: I’ll call Leo. Leo, answering his cell: Y’ello? Donnie: Where’s Ves? She texted me that she was being kidnapped. Leo: Ves? Whaddya mean, she’s right next to me- Leo: Leo: I’ll call you back. *hangs up* Leo: THE BLONDE HAIR ISN’T THAT BAD! Ves: WHO ARE YOU?!

Ves: In my defense, I was left unsupervised. Donnie: Wasn't Leo with you? Leo: In my defense, I was also left unsupervised.

Ves: Come on, I wasn’t that drunk last night. Leo: You were flirting with Donnie. Ves: So what? He’s my boyfriend. Leo: You asked him if he was single. Ves: Leo: And then you cried when he said he wasn't.

Ves: If Leo and I were drowning, who would you save? Donnie: You two can’t swim? Leo: It’s a hypothetical question, Don! Who would you save? Donnie: my time and effort.

Mikey: How petty can you get? Ves: I once edited a Wikipedia article to win an argument I was wrong about.

Ves: You lying, cheating, piece of shit! Donnie: Oh yeah? You’re the idiot who thinks you can get away with everything you do. WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD Ves: I’m leaving you, and I’M TAKING SHELDON WITH ME Raph, picking up the monopoly board: I think we’re gonna stop playing now.

Raph: You need to stop doing weird things. Try going out sometime. Ves: I went to the park today. Raph: There you go, I hope you got something from that. Ves, opening her jacket: Yeah, this squirrel.

Leo: Donnie won’t come out of the lab. Ves: Just tell him I said something Leo: Like what? Ves: anything factually incorrect A few minutes later Donnie: DID YOU SAY THE SUN IS A FUCKING PLANET??!!

*the Squad at Disneyland, in the teacups* April, Mikey, and Raph: *spinning a little and talking* Donnie, Ves, and Leo: *flying past them, spinning as fast as they can, screaming*

Store Worker: Would a Ms. Vesper Munroe please come to the front desk? Ves, arriving at the desk: Hello, is there a problem? Store Worker, points to Donnie and Leo: I believe they belong to you? Donnie and Leo, simultaneously: We got lost :( Ves: I didn’t even bring you guys here with me-

April: Why are Ves and Donnie sitting with their backs to each other? Leo: They had a fight. April: Then why are they holding hands? Leo: They get sad when they fight.

Ves: I love you. Donnie: How many people have you said that to? Ves: Everyone. Donnie: What? Ves: I told everyone that I love you.

April: Poison is a magic transmutation potion that turns people into corpses. Leo: This knife is actually a magic wand. Ves: Meet me in the Denny’s parking lot for a wizard duel. Donnie, cocks gun: Magic missile. Raph: What the fuck is wrong with you guys.

Donnie: Ugh, crushes are so dumb. Ves: I know. Whenever I’m near the person I like I just start acting stupid. Donnie: But you’re always acting stupid? Ves: ... Ves: Yeah, don’t think about that too hard.

Hopefully you enjoyed and maybe we'll see more of Vesper in some later projects.

[imagine-silk]

idk if you do continuations or anything like that so feel free to ignore !! but i really liked that platonic yandere peter b parker post and was wondering if you had any more of that?

I got you baby girl

You weren’t their first pick by far and they almost didn’t hire you. “Aren’t you still in school?” You had to really sell yourself to get it. Telling them you were in a position you could work from home by just completing the work and turning it in. Not the most graceful way to do high school but it was no skin off your teeth.

They are the world's softest yanderes because their goal is to keep you as their kid not to themselves. They do the same reactions other parents would. You have a crush on someone they want to know because they're nosy. Want to try a hobby and they'll help you in a way that's not suspicious at the time, giving you fliers instead of dropping you off. Safe and taken care of.

Make no mistake, they are still yanderes. Sleeping pills make their way into your drink and your backpack goes missing on purpose. Peter will carry to the guest bedroom and put you to bed. MJ will help look for your bag in places you didn't look and would you look at that, she didn't find it. That bracelet is a glorified tracker and Peter is too. Not to mention their efforts to normalize their affection by introducing it slowly. They fully understand what they are doing and don't think twice.

Strangely enough your parents were the ones to tell you to take the live-in position saying you needed to think of number one. It was a more than generous offer and to know you were taken care of was enough for them. With the added knowledge of Peter's job you felt like it was a risk but a risk you were willing to take. They welcomed you with more than warm arms.

Eventually you become their kid with extra steps, you basically just have a big allowance. People start mistaking you as an adopted child, even their family. You didn't think twice about saying it wasn't true but they insisted after you do for the sake of convenience, so people can't say you shouldn't be with them or be trusted with Mayday like you're a stranger. Besides you're practically family.

The chances you suspect they aren't letting you leave is honestly very slim. They are nothing but welcoming and never overtly force you to do anything, never hurt you and they always have a solid reason for everything they do. Not to mention you do leave, they let you.

But if you do you're not going to leave until they're sure you're not going to scream the second you step out the door. They drop the efforts the hide what they're doing and you are theirs, no real need to be coy. And it's all terrifyingly normal. They seem like regular parents.

To be honest, they won't do anything unless you get rowdy. Lock yourself in your room and hide, they won't drag you out, just knock on the door, ask if you're okay, and tell you there's food waiting for you so you out the door. Deny their affection like hugs, they won't force it on you. Refuse to hold Mayday and they'll hold handle her crying. You're upset and know this is an adjustment period.

You can attack Peter and he will very weakly try to get you to stop so you don't hurt yourself. "It's okay, honey. I'm not going to hurt you."

Tell MJ she's not your mom she stays strong, but it's very clear she's hurt. "I know. But I want to be."

Mayday doesn't understand what's happening but she's more than happy you're not leaving.

What they will force is if you try to hurt yourself. Stop eating and they'll force feed you. Spit out too much and they'll hook you up to an IV. Break a window to try and get out they keep you in areas there are no windows. Hurt yourself in any capacity in the kitchen, purposeful or otherwise, you won't be in there unsupervised. God forbid you try to force-quit yourself. They will hold you down and baby proof you. Shove all types of foam under your clothes and wrap you in duct tape. If you keep trying it will escalate. You'll have those mitten they put on babies so they don't scratch themselves, then a neck cover and a helmet. You're going to look like the world's ugliest penguin.

When you start to calm down then they start the conversation of going outside. Again, the goal was never to keep you inside indefinitely. And it is a slow progress but it becomes a normal life ish. You live with them and to anyone's concern, "This is my kid."

You do go see your family and you think about telling them but the visit is very underwhelming. You have a full house so you peacing out for three months didn't really cross their minds. So you did what Peter told you to do, say you were moving out. Your brother laughed and said, "good". Your sister told him not to say that and to give her her hat back. Your mom told your dad to set up the moving van your uncle worked at to see if they could get a discount. None of them asked where or why and you didn't know if that was good or bad. You knew it was because they trusted you but that attitude got you kidnapped.

At the end of the day you went back to very very doting parents and a sister who quite literally crawled all over you. It was excessive but at that point it was normal, for better or for worse.