#let's all say sorry to booster

[arttuff]

i can read the subtext of this panel

[gay-dorito-dust]

Howdy howdy I hope your day is going well :D

I was wondering if you could write smth about reader wearing Ford’s sweater for the first time and his reaction to it? 👀👀

Ford has to do a double take to make sure that his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him, and that you were actually wearing his red turtleneck, the very turtleneck he spent all morning looking for before resorting to wearing his black one.

It suited you perfectly, shows your beautiful curves deliciously, not that he was looking of course! He’s just appreciating the art that was you! Was that such a sin?! He’s not use to the sight of someone else wearing his clothes and now that he has you doing so, he felt as though he had walked into a locked away dream on his as he couldn’t tear his eyes off of you.

Now Ford understood that with the weather getting chiller by the day that you were bound to start looking for warmer clothes to combat the cold, but -and this is when logic fails him- did you really not own any warmer clothing of your own that you had been resorted to go and steal clothes from him instead?

Ford has to fight some thoughts away that made him imagine you in others clothes of his as the sight of you in them had slowly become his favourite thing to lay his eyes on. Bless his nerdy heart for it was about to give out any time soon, but he felt his ego being stroked that out of everyone’s clothes you chose to steal from, even Stan’s, you stole from him specifically. His clothes and his clothes alone did you think were worth the honour of adorning your body perfectly and cosily.

Thoughts like this only made Ford’s blush worsen and you were worried that you had gone too far as you were quick to sit the poor man down and hold his face between your hands.

‘Ford are you okay sweetie?’ You’d ask.

‘You’re wearing my turtleneck. He’d reply.

‘Yeah, I’m sorry I didn’t have anything to-‘

‘Don’t apologise my dear, you look perfect as per usual.’ He then stops you by holding onto your waist, thumbs stroking soothingly as though he was the one calming you instead of the opposite.

You smiled softly. ‘That’s sweet of you Ford but if you don’t want me to wear your turtleneck anymore, then I won’t.’

Ford frowned. ‘And why would I say such a thing? You can borrow my turtleneck as often as you want if it’s what you desire,’ he then coughs awkwardly and looks away from you as his blush deepens, ‘besides I like the way you look in it, if that’s not too forward of me to admit.’ He adds and you couldn’t help but kiss the man on his lips as you rested your forehead against his own.

‘Not at all, that was really lovely of you, I might just steal this cuteness more often if time means getting a repeat of this exact reaction.’ You chuckled, liking the emotions you were pulling from him with ease.

‘Please do,’ he thought to himself shamelessly as he now knows what he wanted to see everyday when he walked up, you in his clothes, it’ll be his personal serotonin booster!

Slight nsfw: However He seriously hopes you’re wearing something under the turtleneck, sleep shorts or otherwise as he stares at your bare, beautiful legs that stick out from the turtleneck as he kept his hands above your waist out of respect for you. (This senior citizen is making me feral I fear, let me wear his turtleneck with nothing on underneath for the lore, it’ll be worth it-)

Needless to say that after this instance Ford will leave his turtleneck in places for you to know that he wants to see you in it more often.

[overtake]

I’m sorry we need about 5k more words of mechanic Daniel driver max pls and ty!!!

Part One

I’m actually so shocked (but pleasantly surprised and honored!) by people enjoying this verse because I almost deleted it without posting. I don’t have 5k more, but I can offer 1.2k!

I still lowkey hate this - and you can definitely tell I have no vision for where this story would go, hence why it’s just harping on the same 3 details we already knew - but it’s all yours and I hope you have a good time reading it anyway :)

Five minutes into pretending to examine an engine instead of obsess over what Max said, Daniel breaks.

“Did you mention me to Max?” he asks Cyril, trying to come across casual.

Cyril looks at him disbelievingly. “Max Verstappen is in our garage and you think I talked about you at all?”

Daniel lifts a hand to his chest and feigns being shot. “People love me, you know. Guys are all over this.”

Cyril heaves out a long-suffering sigh. “Get to work, Daniel.”

Daniel’s lucky, given his condition, that everything is relatively routine today. He does three oil changes, and he could kiss those people’s feet for it.

He’s mentally preparing himself to slide under a car, wincing at much more congested he’ll be once he emerges again, when Max suddenly appears in the corner of the garage.

“Hello,” he says. He does a cute little half-wave to get Daniel’s attention.

“Hey,” Daniel says, straightening and rubbing his grimy hands on his thighs. “Cyril’s working on your car, so he’ll have any updates you need.”

“It’s not my car, just a rental,” Max dismisses. “No, I just have …” He cuts himself off, turns a sweet pink on the apples of his cheeks. “You sounded sick earlier and looked really pale. I brought you soup.”

He lifts a takeaway bag from the cafe down the street, which usually specializes in ten dollar lattes and sandwiches with names so cutesy, you have to practice five times to order without shame.

Daniel smiles at the idea of Max Verstappen, world champion, saying one of those horrible names for Daniel’s benefit. “You didn’t have to do that. Thank you. Let me pay you back.”

Max shakes his head. “It’s my thanks for fixing the car.”

Daniel raises his eyebrows. “So what soup did you get Cyril, who’s actually doing that?”

Max scrunches his nose in disgust. “You cannot expect me to say the name Noodle Nest Paradise more than one time.”

“How many times did you laugh trying to get that out?”

Max shudders. “I pretended to speak really bad English and just pointed at the menu.”

“So you could’ve ordered multiple,” Daniel points out. Max very blatantly pretends not to hear. He focuses instead on pulling a little bag from the order and holding it up proudly, smiling a crinkly-eyed smile.

“I got you crackers!”

Eating soup with Max Verstappen is an out of body experience.

Daniel’s been eating his soup over the coffee table in the office because it felt wrong to make Max sit at the grimy, wobbly table in the closet-sized corner of the garage where Daniel and Cyril usually change and scarf down meals. This, however, means they’re stuck together on the loveseat. Max’s expensive skinny jeans knock knees with Daniel’s greasy coveralls when they get too into the conversation.

Daniel knows he’s being a terrible conversationalist, especially at first. His normal easy charisma is buried somewhere in the pile of tissues he’s burning through. He’s basically just answering Max’s rapid-fire questions about his life, his job, his family, his non-existent partner (“do you have a girlfriend or boyfriend or anything?” Max had asked, and looked remarkably pleased by Daniel’s answer of no).

Daniel’s about 87% sure he’s being hit on right now. It’s a nice confidence booster given how much of a mess he looks, but it’s not like it matters. Max is Max, and Max is F1, and Max doesn’t live here.

He likes Max, though, the longer they talk. He likes his eagerness, his down-to-earth nature, his total lack of interest in discussing racing. Max delights in all Daniel’s behaviours that usually make people roll their eyes and wait for him to be done, whereas Max leans into Daniel’s dumb songs or drawn out jokes. He likes the long lashes that frame Max’s bright, happy eyes, and soft double chin he gets when he ducks his head into his laugh.

Daniel’s not sure how much time passes before Cyril comes in, but he knows his voice has faded to practically nothing, and he’s having to constantly turn to avoid coughing on Max.

Cyril’s timing is rather unfortunate, entering just as Daniel breaks into a particularly rough wheeze. Max is patting his back gently, which Cyril will definitely have words about later. Presently, however, he seems too concerned about Daniel’s wellbeing to lecture him about appropriate contact with famous customers.

“Daniel. Go home,” he orders, voice kind but firm. His tone leaves no room for argument, not that Daniel really wants to fight him on it. He’s enjoying this, but his brain and body feel as if they’re wading through a pool of thick custard.

“Are you okay to drive?” Max checks. His eyebrows are knitted in sweet concern, like Daniel actually might keel over and die in the ten-minute ride home.

“All good,” Daniel promises. He stands, then promptly has to collapse back onto the couch when black spots dot his vision.

“I’m driving you,” Cyril says firmly.

“I just stood up too fast.” Sure, he’s a little woozier than expected, but he could do this drive blindfolded and half-dead.

“I’ll drive you,” Max says. “I mean, Cyril has work to do, but I’m just sitting here.”

“How do I know you won’t kidnap me or steal my car?” Daniel rasps.

“He’s not worth kidnapping, and selling his car probably couldn’t cover an oil change for the kinds of cars you drive,” Cyril informs Max. He ignores Daniel’s protests, then pushes Daniel back down to the couch when he half-rises from it.

“Stay. I will get your keys and bag.”

The second Daniel’s brain understands that he’s off-duty, that it’s no longer expected to carry him through the day, it mostly blacks out, and everything is a blur from there.

He’s pretty confident Cyril steals his phone to call his mum, which is vaguely embarrassing but perhaps necessary given his current state. He knows Cyril gives Max directions to Daniel’s parents’ place instead of his own. He feels Max’s hands help him into the passenger seat, and he definitely mutters some fever-addled sentences on the drive. That’s about all he remembers until he wakes up in his childhood bed, shivering and sweating while his mum runs a hand through his hair and forces medicine down his throat, before he falls back asleep again.

When he finally comes to enough to make his way downstairs, he finds his parents seated at the kitchen table. His mum jumps up, forces him into a chair and fusses over him while simultaneously lecturing him about going to work sick. His dad just sits there, eyebrows half-raised, until Daniel is settled with food and water.

“So. You had an exciting day at work.”

He slides a piece of scrap paper across the table. There, under some advertisement for gardening services, is a scrawled message in red pen:

It was lovely to meet you (again). I hope the terribly named soup made you feel better! :)

- Max

Under his name, Max has scrawled a phone number.

Daniel runs his finger over the lines, feeling the imprint of each number that Max etched into the paper. It’s neatly written, far more cautious and intentional than the rest of the words, as if to ensure that no digit could be misread or smudged.

Daniel pauses, processes the full note, and double backs to the word ‘again.’

“Yeah,” Daniel croaks through the stabbing pains in his throat. He stares at the word harder, like it might reveal what the fuck Max means by again. “I guess today was pretty interesting.”

[ctrlchar]

dom johnnie headcannons

request: can you write a a johnnie x reader where’s he’s usually sub but the reader wants him to be dom

a/n: thank you for the request! sorry it took so long 😭

the second you ask him to dom his whole face heats up and he asks you to repeat yourself

once he realizes that you did infact say what he thought you said he agrees thinking it would be something new to try and it would be fun

he starts off with kissing along your neck like you usually do to him,leaving dark purple hickeys along your neck

he would definitely start as more of a soft dom at first

he’d push into you nice and slow making sure you’re doing okay

100% holds your hand while he rocks into you

he kept your hands pinned high above your head as his hips pistoned in and out of your heat. you grabbed onto his arms for support as his thrusts got faster and faster. His hand then found yours,intertwining your fingers while he kept his other on your hip.

he’d be so nervous at first,not sure if you’d like it until he heard your moans of pleasure

each moan is like a instant confidence booster for him. it lets him know he’s doing something right which he loves

praises the hell out of you. he’ll make sure you know how good you feel and how tight you are around his cock. it would get to the point that it would almost sound like he’s the one getting fucked based off of how needy his voice is

“s-so good” he says his hand gripping yours tightly. his thrusts got sloppier and sloppier the closer he got. however all the was focused on was you,how pretty you looked, how good you felt, and how good you sounded. “youre so tight I-I don’t know how much longer i’m gonna last” he moans out a hint of neediness apparent in his voice

any time you would look up at him he would look away,part of it was he knew he would cum on the spot if you started at him with your watery eyes any longer

the other part is he was so shy,so nervous that even your fucked out gaze looked intimidating to him

he loves it when you praise him. just telling him how good he’s doing or that he feels so good will go straight to his dick. the feeling of knowing that he’s the one who makes you feel this good and then for you to tell him makes him go feral

[janeyseymour]

Love Thy Neighbor- pt 5

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4

Summary: Melissa helps you out. It's not helping the feelings that you have for her.

WC: ~2.15k

You’ve been teaching for a few weeks at Abbott a this point now, and you are eternally grateful for this job. You get to take Ellie with you to school, you don’t have to race around to pick her up after. The staff is nice enough, and your kids are wonderful. They absolutely adore you more than anything. Receiving drawings and cards is an almost daily occurrence, and it melts your heart- your students out in Utah never did things like this. 

You work closely with Melissa during your preps to make sure that your room is going well, and any questions that you have you’re able to ask her. She’s so willing to help you with both big problems (realizing that you have no teacher’s manual for the science unit that you’re set to start the next week) and the small (standing in between your classrooms when you have to use the bathroom so desperately you’re afraid you’re going to get a UTI).

( “Fuck,” you curse softly during your prep while you’re ripping every drawer and cabinet open in your room.

“What’s going on, hun?” She magically appears in your doorway. “You look frazzled, and I can hear the cabinets opening and closing over in my room.”

“Shoot, sorry,” you turn and sigh softly. “I can’t find the science manual that I’m supposed to be basing these science lessons off of.”

“That may be my fault,” the redhead admits with a smirk. “I hated it, so I burnt it and made up my own lessons. You have all the materials for what you have to get done, and I can help you out at home tonight if you bring your planner home.”

“I’ll make dinner.”

—

You’re squirming in your chair, desperate for the bathroom. But your kids are taking a test, and every time you pop your head out the door, there is no one there for you to pull into your room for a quick three minutes while you rush down the hall to relieve yourself.

Melissa appears in your door though to ask you a quick question, and she can immediately see the discomfort written into your face.

“Are you okay?” she asks softly as she makes her way over to your desk.

You shake your head. “I really have to-”

“Go,” is all she has to say for you to take off in the direction of the bathroom.

You come back a few minutes later, much more relaxed now. “Thank you. What’s up?”

“Just came to see if you needed any copies made- I’m sending Ashley to do some… woman’s driving me nuts lately.”

You roll your eyes fondly. “There’s a stack of papers there to be copied and filed if you want to send her in… and I can always come up with other ways to keep her occupied and out of your hair.”

“That would be great,” the redhead smiles at you softly. “Thanks.” )

All of these situations at school, combined with the ones at home are not helping the feelings that you have developed for the fiery redheaded second grade teacher.

At school, she’s sweet enough, but outside of school hours… it’s even worse.

You have your car now, but she still insists on carpooling with you.

( “It’s more cost efficient, and Jacob isn’t on my ass about burning too many fossil fuels now that we come in together,” she rolls her eyes.

“At least let me drive,” you sigh.

“Her booster is already in my car,” Melissa retaliates. “Just get in.” )

Ellie insists on spending time with her whenever she can, and when you think that it’s getting to be too much for Melissa, she’s waving you off and telling you that having the two of you around is the best thing that’s happened to her. She helps Ellie with homework while you’re lesson planning, she insists on making dinner at least twice a week, your little girl is on her hip at dismissal everyday and falls asleep- only for the redhead to shush everyone around her before she carries her out to the car, the two watch cartoons together and snuggle… she’s really stepped up and stepped in for your daughter when she needed some extra love and care.

And with doting on Ellie the way that she does, she’s also doting on you.

( “You eating enough?” she asks you one day when she sees that you’ve hardly touched your meal. You’re instead pouring over your kids’ essays and grading them frantically.

“I’ll eat after I finish grading these and putting them in,” you wave her off. “You and Ellie eat.”

“We already did, Momma,” your daughter says from the couch, reaching for the television remote. How’d she get there?

Before you can respond, there’s a forkful of gnocchi being held up to your mouth, and Melissa is sitting there giving you a look that says not to argue.

“Thank you,” you sigh softly as you open your mouth. She feeds you the rest of your dinner, despite your daughter begging for attention from the redhead.

Only when you’re finished eating does the woman go and pull the little girl on the couch into her lap.

You continue to grade until you have both of them standing at your side. Or, Melissa is standing at your side while Ellie is clinging to her, settled on her hip.

“Momma, you have to come tuck me,” your little girl yawns out. “Miss Mel said it’s bedtime.”

You glance up at the clock to see that it is indeed Ellie’s bedtime. Your heart melts at the thought that the redhead has so seamlessly integrated herself into your life that she not only knows your daughter’s bedtime, but is able to implement it without your daughter making a fuss over it.

The two of you get the little girl into bed and read with her before flicking off the light. You make your way back to the kitchen table to continue grading, and when you expect her to leave, she instead sits down and takes a hefty portion of the grading that you still have to do. Her glasses are on her face, and her eyes are trained on the work in front of her. She grabs one of the pens that you have sitting on the table and opens it to mark a few things.

You’re so busy watching her that you forget to continue grading yourself. She nudges you gently.

“I’m tryin’ to help you, hun,” she chuckles. “You gotta do some work though too.”

You take the graded papers are start entering them into grade book with a sigh. With the two of you working together, grades get put in rather quickly. You can’t help but grin at her sleepily as she grades the last one for you, and you enter the number. 

“I think you just saved my life,” you sigh softly. You lay a gentle hand over hers and squeeze it gently.

“I think you need some sleep, hun,” she tells you gently. “Get to bed, and I’ll see myself out.”

“Or we could just hang out on the couch?” you suggest. “I like when you’re here with me… and I love when it’s me, you, and El, but having some adult time is nice.”

She chuckles but nods and leads you to the couch. She settles into the corner of it, and you slide in next to her, grabbing a blanket.

It’s warm, it’s domestic, it’s cozy. Her arm is draped around you lazily, your head nuzzled into the crook of her neck as you curl up and find a program to watch.

You doze off, and you’re not quite sure for how long because the next thing you know Ellie is climbing on top of you with tears in her eyes. Melissa is still there with you, eyes opening blearily.

“Momma,” the little girl whines and settles herself, half in your lap and half in Melissa’s. “Miss Mel.”

“What’s wrong, sweetness?” you ask her gently, teasing the little wisps at the base of her neck. You press a delicate kiss to her temple, and you see Melissa also move the arm not wrapped around you to soothingly rub your daughter’s back.

“Bad dream,” she mumbles as she lays against the two of you.

You sigh softly. “Do you want to talk about it, or try to head back off to dreamland?”

“Dreamland,” she yawns as she rubs her eyes. “But I want you and Miss Mel with me.”

At the mention of her, the redhead’s eyes widen just slightly.

“Please,” Ellie mumbles as she curls into your neighbor’s side. “Please.”

“Momma will come lay with you,” you try to placate softly. You attempt to pull her into your arms, but she desperately reaches for the woman next to you. “We won’t all fit in your bed, sweet girl,” you tell her.

“Momma’s bed,” she mumbles as she wiggles out of your hold and into Melissa’s. The redhead glances at you, and you shrug.

Knowing that if you deny Ellie right now, she will have a meltdown, and you just don’t have it in you to deal with that. You nod, praying to God that your room is clean.

“Mel can stay for a little bit,” Melissa tells the little girl in her arms. “Until you fall asleep.”

The three of you make your way to your bedroom, Ellie sandwiched between the two of you in bed. Ellie clings to the redhead as she starts to fall back asleep. Melissa hums a sweet little tune before she quietly starts to sing a lullaby in a different language. You realize that it’s Italian quickly, and her voice is so gentle and smooth- even at the soft volume. While it lulls your daughter to sleep, it also lulls you to sleep. 

When you wake up again to your alarm, Ellie’s little head pops up from Melissa’s chest before flopping back down gently. If the redhead wasn’t already awake, she is now. “Oof.”

“You stayed,” Ellie whispers.

“I didn’t really have a choice when you decided to use me as your body pillow,” the woman chuckles softly.

You look over at your girl, who is in fact fully on top of Melissa the way that she usually lays on you after a nightmare.

“Oopsies,” Ellie grins. She doesn’t look sorry in the slightest. Then she jumps up. “Time to see Mrs. Howard?”

“Yeah, sweetness,” you chuckle. You love that she adores her kindergarten teacher. “After we get ready, and you have to let Miss Melissa up.”

She uses the two of you as launchpads to sprint into her bedroom, and the two of you fall back into the pillows gently. You turn your head to look at her.

“Thank you,” you say softly, a smile on your face.

“For?”

“Being here for El and me,” you sigh. “It’s made this adjustment to this new life a lot easier.”

Her eyes are so warm as they stare into your own, and she flits her gaze down to your lips.

As much as you want to kiss her right now, you know you shouldn’t. It would be unprofessional… and you have morning breath. Instead, you throw the blankets back on your side and roll out of bed.

She watches you. She’s thought you were gorgeous for quite some time now, but in the morning when you’re just you and not ‘Miss Y/N’ may be her favorite look of yours.

“Stop,” you laugh awkwardly as you feel her gaze while you try to pick out your outfit. “I look like a mess right now, and you should be getting ready for work too.”

“You’re stunning,” she tells you honestly. “But yes… I should probably head over to my apartment to get ready.” She rolls out of bed and starts to make her way out when you catch her arm gently.

“Thank you,” you say softly as you squeeze her arm.

“Of course.”

She heads for the front door, and you can hear Ellie yelling her goodbyes from her bedroom.

“I’ll be back in a little bit,” the redhead promises. “And then we’ll go to school together. I think your momma’s driving too.” The door closes after that, and as you get ready, you let your mind wander about what would change if you decided to just say fuck it and kiss her again. The two of you would probably end up together… 

But really, with her across the hall and practically being a part of your family already, what more would change? Not much. But if you were to date and then split? That would be… hell.

Maybe she’s worth the risk though. You shrug in the mirror and shake your head as you try to focus on what has to be done today.

Maybe with time… only time will tell. 

[fluentmoviequoter]

Butterflies Aren't Just for Kids

Part 2 of Crushes Aren't Just for Kids

Pairing: JLU!Bruce Wayne x fem!JL!reader

Summary: Bruce hasn't asked you out yet, despite the League's interest in your new relationship. When he finally has enough and takes you away from their prying eyes and endless questions, you tell him why you hid your feelings for so long.

Warnings: fluff!!! John, Diana, and Wally get warnings for being nosy

Word Count: 1.6k+ words

A/N: Have I mentioned that I love this show? I considered basing this on The Once and Future Thing (s1 finale) but think that would be better as an independent rewrite. Also, I love Wally so much!!

Picture from Pinterest

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Plenty has changed since Morgaine Le Fay turned you, Bruce, Clark, Diana, and John into kids and back into adults to defeat her son. Bruce learned about your crush on him, as did John and Diana, and Bruce hinted that he’d ask you out soon. Being a superhero vigilante is a full-time job, though, and he has yet to find the time to do that.

Every time you set foot in the Watchtower, John and Diana give you questioning looks. You can tell they want to pry and hear about what’s happening with you and Bruce, but you also know they won’t believe you when you say nothing. Luckily, you still have easy access to all the hiding places Bruce installed in the multi-million-dollar space base.

While you sit in the cafeteria and eat, your thoughts drift to Bruce. He’s off somewhere fighting an alien with Clark, yet all you want is another quiet moment at his side.

“Hey,” Wally greets as he sits.

“Hi, Walls,” you reply with a smile.

“What’s up with all the weird looks?”

“What do you mean?”

Wally looks down and quickly counts the food items on his four trays. He speeds back into the cafeteria for another pudding, and you brace yourself for the wind that follows his return.

“Everyone keeps looking at you like there’s something big happening. They used to look at me like that, but you’re hogging my attention,” Wally answers.

“Sorry about that.”

“Seriously, it’s impossible to miss all of the looks. John and Diana look ready to snap every time you walk into the room.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” you lie. “I’m sure whatever they think is happening will pass soon and all eyes will be back on you.”

“As they should be, right?”

“Right, Walls.”

You excuse yourself, but not before you offer your cake to Wally. You ignore the looks Wally mentioned as you walk toward J’onn’s station in the heart of the Watchtower.

“J’onn, can you send me home? I don’t think I’ve got anything else to do up here,” you request.

“Certainly. I’ll let you know if we need you to return.”

“Thanks.”

A light blinds you temporarily, and when you open your eyes, you realize someone must have told J’onn you have a new home.

“I have got to talk to John about boundaries,” you mumble as you begin the short walk to Wayne Manor.

A few days later, you haven’t even seen Bruce. You’ve been pining after him for years, though, so what’s a few more days before that date he said he’d take you on? As long as it isn’t a theme park, you think as you walk through the Watchtower.

“We need to talk,” Diana says as she pulls you into a corner.

“About what?” you ask.

“You and Bruce,” John answers, stepping out of the shadows.

“What is this, an intervention? There’s nothing to talk about!” you whisper harshly.

“What happened after we left?” Diana inquires.

“He took me home. If you must know, he implied that he’d ask me out, but that is it! He may not even like me anymore.”

John shakes his head with a knowing look on his face. He can read you too well to lie to him.

“Look, I’m trying to be patient and wait for him to decide, ask, whatever, but it is getting very hard to do with you two drawing attention to us! Booster Gold asked me where the boyfriend was, and he didn’t even know who he was talking about!”

“Booster never knows what he’s talking about,” John argues.

“That is not the point.”

John smirks before he asks, “So, when you and Bruce have kids, do you think they’ll look like you two did in Mordred’s kingdom?”

The door behind Diana opens, and you realize you’ve been having this conversation outside Bruce’s workshop. While he was in it.

“Stop,” Bruce demands.

Diana nudges you, and you push her away. You’ll do something, but not because she encouraged you to, because you want to.

“What?” you ask with an exaggerated pout. “You don’t want to have kids with me, Brucie?”

Bruce rolls his eyes at your reply, but John and Diana stay beside you despite his bat glare.

“Are you going to ask her out?” Diana asks. “Because we’re all waiting for you to do something.”

“Clearly,” Bruce replies. “We’re leaving. Lantern. Diana.”

Before John or Diana can speak again, J’onn transports you and Bruce away. They’re left facing each other with a few answers and more questions.

“Where do you think they went?” Diana inquires.

“I’m- I’m not sure I want to think about that,” John answers slowly. “She is my friend, you know.”

“So is he.”

“Yeah,” John says, his voice laced with sarcasm and disbelief. “Sure, he is. Best friend, really.”

When you arrive in the manor, pressed to Bruce’s side just as you were in the amusement park, you don’t hesitate to turn and hug him. Bruce’s arms wrap around you loosely, and you step back when Alfred enters the living room.

“I’ll assume you’re the reason I’ve been getting so many dirty looks and questions from the League?” Bruce asks.

His lips are up at the edges, and you think he will smile at any moment. You can’t tell by looking at him, but Bruce feels like a kid again when he’s with you. He didn't experience childhood like he should have, so he lets himself be genuine with you. He’s done wasting time, he decides.

“You know, I’ve been fighting by your side for a long time,” you say. “But your hugs are way better than your grappling hooks.”

Bruce shakes his head and leads you toward the couch before Alfred returns with popcorn, a tray of snacks, and your favorite drink that you did not ask for nor mention. You thank him, and he winks at you quickly. He’s glad to see Bruce happy and to have visitors in the manor again.

“I should’ve hugged you sooner,” you muse as you reach for the food. “Could have been spending time here for years by now.”

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” Bruce asks softly.

“Why didn’t you?” you counter. You lick your lips before answering, “You’re important to me, Bruce. I didn’t want to jeopardize our relationship or the team, or, worse, put you in danger by saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. There were too many unknowns.”

“So, you planned to, what? Wait until I said something?”

“Caged butterflies,” you whisper. “Cages don’t hold them very well. I would’ve said something eventually, but Morgaine put me in a position where I didn’t have to.”

“Then, technically, John told me.”

“You’re a jerk, you know that?”

Bruce smiles, and the butterflies you felt as a kid revive to create a hurricane in your heart. He leans in and brushes his lips over your cheek before saying, “I’ve been told… I’ve also been told crushes aren’t just for kids.”

“Jerk,” you mumble again as you turn your face toward Bruce.

“Oh! Oh!” John yells when you step out of J’onn’s transporter and onto the Watchtower. “Someone’s glowing. How them butterflies feeling?”

“Like kids again,” you answer honestly. “I guess I should thank you for forcing me to do something.”

“Lanterns have been making dreams come true for millennia.”

“There’s no way that’s true.”

“You don’t know that. You’re not a Lantern, or a mind reader.”

“It’s not true,” J’onn calls without looking away from his console.

“Man, we need better friends,” John tells you.

“You are my better friend.”

“Save that lovey stuff for the boyfriend.”

“I thought he was Diana’s boyfriend,” you argue, tilting your head as you hide your smile.

“The ploy of a mastermind to learn the truth,” John answers with a shrug.

“You really are spending too much time with Wally.”

John stands and beckons you to follow him. You do so wordlessly, but you run into someone as you round a corner beside him. Bruce grasps your arms gently to keep you upright before dropping his head to look at you.

“Here comes the bride,” Wally sings under his breath.

You and Bruce look up quickly, surprised to see Wally has joined John, and they are watching your interaction with far too much interest.

“And that’s why we’re glad Wally wasn’t included in Mordred’s spell,” you grumble against Bruce’s chest.

“What spell?” Wally asks. He doesn’t give anyone time to answer before he rambles, “Hey, have you told her about your childhood, Bats? I mean, you’re definitely a loner now, but good luck learning anything about him; he’s one tough walnut to crack.”

“I know,” you and John say together.

Bruce tightens his grip on you before requesting J’onn send him home. The Watchtower is no longer a haven from Gotham, not with the League’s new favorite topic of conversation: you and Batman.

“We should buy a vacation house,” Bruce says as you open your eyes in Gotham.

“Yeah. In Coast City, where Ollie can find us and bring the rest of the fan club,” you joke.

Bruce stays quiet for a moment, and you begin to ask him what’s wrong, but he cuts you off.

“Get ready. We’re going on that date I promised,” he says.

“You never actually asked,” you point out.

“Will you go on a date with me?” Bruce asks.

“I’d love to.”

“Then go get ready. I’m taking you somewhere we can be ourselves.”

“Where could you possibly take me that Bruce Wayne won’t be recognized? And if you say an amusement park I will walk out right now.”

“I was thinking Metropolis. The roof of the Daily Planet. I called in a few favors.”

“I take it back. You weren’t a cute kid… you’re still cute.”

“And you still have trouble with maintaining eye contact.” Bruce leads you to the stairs and spreads his hand over your lower back before he whispers, “We’ll work on it.”

[metalotaku-da]

So many cross overs so narrow of common hero choices. Let's expand a little.

"Rip what the hell is that?"

"It appears sir, to be a small human child. Around the developmental stage of 4-5"

"Even you know better than to cuss infront of kids.

"I was gone for five minutes."

"Actually I snapped you back to a minute after you left."

"Are You misser booser gol?"

"Yeah kid that's me. You a fan or something who got into something you shouldn't to find me?"

"No. Clockie said tis for you." Hands a sticky note to booster.

Note reads: this is Danny. You will care for him from now on. See this as payment for resetting your time line safely. If you even try pass him off to Bruce wayne/batman, I will ensure your entire familial line never touched time traversing. And you stayed forever trapped in the 31st century. -clockwork master ancient of all time. P.s. there is not conning your way out of this. I will hunt down every ancestor or decendant for all time.

"This looks very serious sir. Congratulations sir you are a father Now"

"Wow kid. Clockie must hate you. I'm so sorry."

"I'm not that bad of an option. Obviously I was judged better that batsy."

"Clockie ass hero I want to say wiff."

"OH kiddo and you asked for the greatest hero boostergold?"

"I wike space. He say geen lanern is space. He take care of me."

"I'm so sorry sir, you have already disappointed your new child. Should I take a commemorative photo of this milestone moment for you?"

"No" "yes skeets"

Camera flashes.

"I shall add this photo to a new album labeled baby book. It is labeled Danny's first disappointment, sir."

"Thank you skeets." X2 one sarcastic one pleased.

"I wan geen lanern."

"Think you're gonna need help anyway Micheal. Call one of them. Not guy."

"I would never co-parent with guy. What kind of idiot do you take me for?"

"Rip takes you as the utmost idiot sir. As does most of the justice league sir."

"Thanks skeets."

"You are most welcome sir."

"Can I pay wif the talking space ship?"

"Sure kid." Pushes skeets into the kids hands.

"I do not believe I am rated for physical interaction by children under 10 sir."

"To bad skeets." Picks up Danny who looks up at him instead of at skeets to smile all teeth. "Holy shit are those fangs? We are going to go see my friend Ted now. He will know what to do."

"He will atleast know not to cuss infront of kids. Don't know about the rest."

"Is ted geen lanern?"

Cue shenanigans. They were roommates, but adopted a child.

"Does Batman know you stole a child from him?" <- Jaime when he visits.

"Do not even joke like that. My existence is at stake."

"Batsy is the new beetle juice. In this house."

"Are You geen lanern?"

"Sorry kid I am blue beetle."

"Should I take a picture for Danny's third disappointment since becoming your child sir?"

"No skeets."

"3rd? How long you had him?"

"A week"

"Ouch. Hey kiddo why do you want to meet green lantern? Aren't these guys just as cool?"

"Considering the average human body temperature is 98.6 degrees I do not believe they qualify as cool sir." Jaime is picking up danny to hold on his hip.

"Clockie says geen lanern is space." Danny smiles.

"Are those fangs? Is this a meta kid? You like space? My scarab is from space. Isn't that just as... Oh My, no scarab!" Scarab starts to go into protect host mode while screaming danger desteoy threat in Jaime head just as Danny's eyes start to glow green at the statement and his mouth splits inhumanly wide with even more teeth. Ted and Michael scramble to grab Danny and move him away from Jaime till he gets control of the scarab again. But Danny has a death grip and won't let go of his new friend.

"I do believe sir that your new child qualifies as a meta. Should I take a picture to commemorate your child's first power demonstration sir?"

[yuzukult]

from home 03 || jjk & reader

title: from home pairing: jungkook x reader genre: richkid!jk, baker!reader, fakedating!au, fluff, angst, e2l, smut in future chapters word count: 8.1k prompt: jungkook is the youngest of five boys, the last in line to truly inherit any his parents’ money. but what if his mom suddenly cuts him off due to his current poor behavior and he’s forced to learn how it feels like to be part of the working class? a/n: .......... LMFAOOOOOOOOO SORRY FOLKS I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED THE ORIGINAL... anyways hopefully i copied the right chapter hahahhahahah

“You going to the staff dinner tonight?”

Raising a finger at Hoseok, Jungkook slips his phone from his pocket, skimming through the pages before landing on an app, typing a few things in before he looks up with a saddened expression on his face. “... I guess not.”

“Why? What’s wrong? Why can’t you go?” He turns his phone to show the both of you. 

JEON JUNGKOOKACCOUNT BALANCE: ₩33,258.75

“Jungkook!” You and Hoseok in unison exclaim in disbelief. “How the fuck do you only have $30 in there?” Jungkook shrugs, slumping his shoulders as he leans against the conveyor belt. “My mom hasn’t given me the modeling money yet. Our accountant is still calculating all of my earnings. You’d think with how much my parents pay him that he’d work a little faster...”

“We just got paid two days ago,” Hoseok points out, completely baffled as to how Jungkook was able to go through that money so quickly. “What did you do?”

Standing in the middle of Jungkook’s apartment, you and Hoseok just heave out a heavy sigh, shaking your heads in disappointment. He has new curtains, one that makes it easier for the sun to shine through in the mornings which has been an incredibly huge mood booster for him. His futons now have pillows and a blanket to claim their own. Then there was the fridge— full of almost every type of frozen meal from the aisles of the grocery store. And the pantry was an entirely different story; stacks of ramen, chips, cookies— they were practically spilling.

“Jungkook, you need to learn how to control your spending.” You say with great dismay, skimming through the labels of all the ramen bowls and packets that pile on top of each other. “If you keep going at this rate, you’re going to be so broke that you’ll be living on our couches on rotation.”

His face brightens. “You’d let me live on your couch if I needed to?” 

Ignoring his question blatantly, you start browsing his apartment with Hoseok. His suitcases and boxes remain full of things that he brought back from the estate which has you going through them in pure amusement. “You guys... wanna help me unpack or something?”

“Unpack or something. Either or.” You pull out a velvet royal blue suit from one of the boxes that’s still in its clear plastic jacket for the outer protective layer. “Jungkook, want to give me a reason why you have this?”

“Oh. That’s this year’s Hugo Boss. Haven’t worn it yet, I needed to get it fitted.”

Your nostrils flare at the words. “... OK, so why do you still have it? You’re a lower middle class guy living in a studio apartment that’s still probably being paid by his parents who have a butt load of money so they honestly don’t even know they’re still putting money into this. Why they hell would you have a suit that’s...” flipping the label around, your jaw nearly pops off when it drops to the floor, “₩665,175,000.00? Jungkook, what the flying fuck—”

“What?” Hoseok drops the bag of chips he’s in the midst of opening from his hands. Despite also coming from money, he was never that rich in comparison to Jungkook. “Yeah, Hobi, you heard that right. $600,000.00 buckaroos. That’s the cost of a house right there.”

“The Jeon estate is actually—“ You place your index finger against Jungkook’s lips to hush him. “Don’t even. You need to sell this suit.”

“Sell—“ Breathless, Jungkook looks like he’s going to pass out. “I can’t sell a limited edition suit. It was hard to even get it in the first place! What makes you think I’m going to sell it?”

“Because you have 30 bucks to your name.” You respond bluntly before picking up another suit that he has lying underneath the first. “Or sell this one.”

“Not the 2021 Vintage Gucci Men’s Suit!”

“How— One, how can something be vintage if it’s in 2021? And it’s not even 2021 yet?”

The sun begins to set; the rays peering through the curtains gradually dissipates, leaving the three of you sprawled across Jungkook’s new apartment with clothes splattered on every possible surface in the poorly lit room. He still lacked another lamp, but the one his mother left was going to have to do. The staff dinner plans are cancelled, mostly because reorganizing Jungkook’s belongings has been an unanticipatedly gratifying yet a fraught chore that took up more time than predicted. Jungkook was hoping to attend the dinner, but after seeing how much effort you and Hoseok put in trying to make his living space a bit more comfortable, the hope for going to the event has been pushed to the back of his mind.

“Do you guys want to order take-out?” Jungkook suggests, and both you and Hoseok nod while sharing each halves of the futon. “But we’ll pay since you barely have any money. You can get us next time.”

Next time, which means that you guys want to hang out with Jungkook again. 

To him, this is a huge step in the friendship direction. Throughout the entirety of his life, having friends had never really been a thing. Sure, he had play-dates per request from his mother, but those kids were fans of the stuff he owned, they didn’t even like him for him. It had become a recurrence up until high school, where the replacement for the need for friendship had been occupied with flings with women instead. People hung around him for the image, but he never felt a connection with anyone.

That was, until he met you and Hoseok.

Although he’d known Hoseok from showing up at the same parties, he never actually got to talk to him on this level until he visited the supermarket that fateful day. He was always the fun guy at parties; attention constantly gravitating toward him, whether he liked it or not, and he came from money as well, so Jungkook wasn’t sure if those people were surrounding him because of it. Sure, Hoseok’s parents weren’t as rich as Jungkook’s, but they were pretty high up there and could afford almost anything they desired.

Yet, he preferred this sight of Hoseok. Baggy hoodie and jeans, skin greasy from spending the day at work then coming to Jungkook’s apartment to unpack. He’s nagging at you for taking up too much space, covering the surface area that Hoseok had claimed to be his under an unspoken contract as you frown when he slaps your leg.

He likes this. There’s no gowns and tuxes in a ballroom with hors d'oeuvres worth the price of a car per bite; there’s no young people at a party, getting wasted and high, fucking in bedrooms that they weren’t sure who it belonged to; there wasn’t a dining room full of both family and strangers that attempted to start small talk about things he didn’t care about— there was none of that. Just comfort from people he genuinely wanted to impress and make proud of him. He’s not sure if he’s ever felt this way before and he’s barely even known either of you that long. Jungkook has been spending most of his life trying to fill a void in him and has been unsuccessful. He’s finally feeling like he’s going somewhere.

You and Hoseok finally agree on what to eat and he learns that it’s your favorite. Pizza. Extra cheese, pepperoni, sausage, spinach with an ungodly amount of jalapeño peppers, Hoseok mentioned earlier that night that your tolerance for spicy foods is stronger than the pits of hell. 

“Jesus, how are you eating this?” Jungkook cries, snot dripping from his nose while Hoseok wipes his tears after taking another bite. You sit there, unfazed, picking up the abandoned slices of peppers that sit in the box, dropping them into your mouth. “It’s honestly not that spicy. Don’t be dramatic.”

“Bitch, we are not being dramatic, your stomach is made out of whatever Captain America’s shield is made from...”

Jungkook’s phone buzzes in the midst of your argument with Hoseok and just from the name on his lock screen, his heart drops. Jeon Junghwan.

There were a couple things in life that Jungkook wanted to attain— the acceptance from Junghwan and his parents being on top of that list. Ever since Jungkook was younger, Junghwan had been the golden child, the rest of the four were just barely making it, arduously following in his footsteps. But he failed, he hasn’t been able to win the approval from him.

Jeon Junghwan [7:55PM]: Mother is having a charity banquet on Saturday. She would have called you but figured it’d be best if I contacted you instead. Something about ‘inspiration’. Please be at the estate at 7:00PM sharp.

Jeon Junghwan [7:55PM]: Goodnight, Junghwan.

“Why does he text like an old man?” Jungkook flinches, head turning sideways to meet with Hoseok hovering over his shoulder. “Junghwan, I mean. But cool, I was supposed to go to that banquet too, until I got called on a shift. Luckily you’re not scheduled.”

“Yeah...” He says quietly, seated on the floor as he leans back against the sides of the futon. “This is the first time I’m seeing my family after moving out. I need to plan this out right.”

“Well, what’s the plan?” Cheeks full of fries, you’re munching away on the other side of Jungkook as he contemplates the next steps he’s going to have to make in order to reach his goal. “One thing is for sure. You’re going to be my date.”

The breath has been stolen away from his lungs and his heart feels like you’ve pierced through his chest cavity and squashed it into the palm of your hands. He doesn’t know what it’s called (maybe a blowout) but the way your hair cascades down to your shoulders is marveling. In a black long dress with a slit that exposes the entirety of your legs, his breath hitches when his eyes meet the skin of your thighs, the spaghetti straps drape over your décolletage with the v-cut neckline only finishing it off right. He thinks this is his fatal moment. He’s never seen you dolled up like this before; cheeks brushed with a peach blush, lashes emphasized with mascara, liner that makes you look even more fierce, and lips... so buttery pink and plump that almost wishes he could—

“Jungkook?” He shivers, immediately pushing the thoughts out of his head. You’d probably stab him in mere seconds if you knew what he was thinking about. “H-Hey. You look good.” 

You grin, adjusting the fabric that hangs around your legs. “Thanks, you don’t look so bad yourself. Anyways, let’s get going. You said your brother sent a car for us?”

Even though Jungkook is a model and has posed in magazines in suits, it’s still a surprise to see how stunning he manages to look in person. He keeps his hair casual today, despite the formal attire, but when his fingertips rake through those luscious locks, it makes sense why he went with that decision. If you didn’t know any better, you wouldn’t believe that this hunk was living off of frozen meals and instant ramen for the past week. 

He’s pretty, yet there’s something that you can’t help but loathe about him. 

Jungkook is still from money, despite the amount of times you’ve seen him in the supermarket’s uniform and apron. It’s something you’ve been trying to force yourself to remember when you feel yourself slowly falling into the traps of his smile and looks. The reminder is there when a Mercedes Benz S-Class pulls up and Jungkook isn’t as astonished as you are. The window of the driver’s side rolls down, revealing a middle-aged man who wears a chauffeur’s hat and a grin upon his lips. “Jeon Jungkook, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“Hyungjin,” He dips his head in acknowledgement before saying your name, “... this is my date. This guy has been my driver since I was born. Park Hyungjin. He’s going to be taking us to the estate tonight.”

Jungkook opens the back door for you as you slide in with ease, completely in veneration at the characteristics of the vehicle. It feels luxurious, from the leather seats to the center console, and when you see Hyungjin beginning to raise the customized partition between the front and back seats, you’re shocked it can even do that until Jungkook halts him from doing so. “Uh, sorry, Hyungjin, she’s not one of those nights.”

Oh, you think to yourself, this was a routine. His preceding lifestyle is starting to unfold before you.

Arriving at the ‘estate,’ which was something you’d had been stuck with trying to adjust yourself in calling Jungkook’s family home, it’s an unreservedly different part of the home compared to your first visit however a sudden coldness hits your core from incredulity. How could anyone need a home this big? Jungkook guides you out of the car before you could even register the visuals of the home, waving Hyungjin goodbye and brisk “thank you.”

“Hold my hand.” His fingertips brush against the back of your hand discreetly, and as a reflex, you slap him away while he whimpers in pain. “What the hell was that for?”

“Sorry. Habit.” When you try to reach for him again, he opts for resting his palm on your lower back instead, keeping you close. “It’s okay. Is this alright?” You nod. “This is better anyway. We look close yet at the same time professional.”

When you step into the ballroom, you quickly learn that your previous time at the Jeon estate had only been a glimpse of what Jungkook’s sumptuous home had to offer. There’s something of a mezzanine or indoor balcony of some sorts with staircases that branch around the perimeter where a couple people stand idly. The chandelier that you saw in the dining room before was no comparison to what was currently hanging from the ceiling right now— there’s diamonds that hang like raindrops, intricately scattered with clear clarity that only the rich could identify and have the opportunity to see in person. The guests are dressed like those diamonds— sparkles and jewels of women that bathed in the crystals, accompanied by men who simply wore tuxedos and suits. 

But the real stars of the show were the Jeons. With Mrs. Jeon’s hair in an updo, it accentuates her collarbones and shoulders where her dress lies; a beautiful detailed lavender gown that you can already sense the weight of when she drags it behind her. You see where Jungkook gets his genes from.

The filler music from the orchestra that plays in the corner stops, the chattering along with it as they all divert their attention to the Jeons that stand by the railings of the balcony— the four boys and their dates. All that’s missing is Jungkook who stands beside you, hand graduating from your lower back to your waist. 

“Hello, everyone,” Mrs. Jeon greets, a pearly white smile upon her lips. “I am so thankful for your attendance here. As you know, tonight is dedicated toward the Cancer Research Foundation of Seoul, known as the CRFS, and I will be the host tonight but the true genius behind this all is my son, Jeon Jungsik.”

Jungsik approaches his mother from the side, dressed just as well as the rest of his siblings, shaking his head in disapproval. “Mother, I couldn’t have done this without you,” He says humbly, eyes browsing the crowd but pauses when he sees Jungkook with you by his side. There’s something hidden behind his stare, Jungkook hypothesizes, because his modest brother suddenly wants the spotlight whereas previously, he’d be standing in the audience. He can’t tell if it’s because it’s the first family event where he’s sober or if truly there’s something about Jungsik that’s different. “But tonight is a different kind of night. We’re here today not to just donate what we can to a good cause, but celebrating as well. I’m announcing my engagement with Kim Nari.”

An abrupt realization washes over Jungkook.

Kim Nari. The daughter of a tech mogul whose relationship with Jungsik would further advance the Jeon Corporation and skyrocket their profits. Her marriage with Jungsik would link the two companies together, creating possibilities for what seemed to be impossible. Which brings to question, why would Jungsik be interested in Nari? She’s a reflection in the mirror of Jungkook himself— uncontrollable, spoiled, and dependent with no future planned. Why would Jungsik, someone with passions, dreams, and stability want to be with someone like that? Something was up, and Jungkook can taste the bitterness in his mouth.

“Penny for your thoughts?” You ask, but you genuinely don’t care. Anything would be better than listening to conversations that were beginning to start up again at the hasty announcement. Nari has one of her hands sitting upon the rail, waving as if she’s the Queen of England, with a dress that may be deemed inappropriate for a setting like this. It seems that the rest of the family is hearing the engagement for the first time though because Mrs. Jeon looks like she’s going to faint and Mr. Jeon is holding in his anger rather than noticing Nari’s attire.

“Nothing, just... something weird with my brother.” He says before turning to give you his attention again. “Anyway, should I introduce you to my horrific bloodline?”

When Jungkook guides you toward his family members that have begun trickling down the staircase, you’re appearing to have heart palpitations from the suspense. The way the Jeons walk is intimidating alone; shoulders pushed back, straightened posture, and smiles that resemble authenticity on the surface but daggers will be pulled at their disposal if anything goes haywire.

“Mother, Father, this is my girlfriend...” You altogether miss when Jungkook says your name from the sight of his family up close until he squeezes your waist gingerly to capture your awareness again. “Oh, yes, hi,” You bow speedily, “I’m uh, Jungkook’s girlfriend.” Wait. Didn’t he just say that?

“Are you now? Last time we spoke, you said you weren’t,” Mrs. Jeon comments, and albeit her words sound harsh, the draw of her lips upwards say otherwise. It feels a bit forced, but you know it’s from the sudden news coming from Jungsik. There’s a façade of happiness when deep down, she’s disappointed. “We... we met after that night and he treated me to dinner for taking care of him. We’ve been... seeing each other ever since.” 

Mr. Jeon stands there in silence, observing the conversation between you and his wife before unexpectedly speaking up. “Did you attend University? And have you graduated yet?”

Jungkook knows what this is. The Interrogation. Every Jeon child’s significant other has gone through this and you were next. He had completely forgotten about it— mostly because his other brothers had gone through it years ago, and Jongseok’s ‘girlfriends’ had never really been girlfriends, so their dad had given up on that until someone serious came by.

He never thought it’d be him before Jongseok.

“Yes, back in 2016.” You state, fingers fidgeting with the metal chain of your purse. It was a simple question yet the way it’s executed is as if he’s searching for a particular answer.

The older gentleman tilts his head, the space between his brows crinkling in perplexity. He looks so much like Jungkook, except matured with wisdom, and if Jungkook was of any replication of his father when he’s that age, he’d probably still have a line of women after him. “So you’re older than Jungkook.”

“No, father,”  Jungkook chimes in, “... Quite the opposite. She’s actually a year younger than me. Graduated University rather early. Or... well, she finished high school early.” He can see from his peripheral vision that he has captured the ears of his other siblings that stand languidly. “Gifted, really. Child prodigy. Despite all the talented Jeon children, we’ve never had one of those.”

There’s a glimmer in his father’s eyes. He’s impressed. “Really?” His stiff tone has shifted to a lighter one. “Did you study in Seoul? What was your degree in?”

“No, uh, I actually studied abroad in New York after graduating high school. I was about... maybe fifteen at the time? I chose Food Science— I thought about being a Chef because my inspiration is Guy Fieri but someone told me to be a bit more realistic with my brain so here we are.”

Guy Fieri? Jungkook stifles a laugh at your secretive role model, rubbing your sides comfortingly. It’s something to tease you about later, but right now, you have a job to do. Swoon his father.

Mr. Jeon nods, hands slipping into the front pockets of his slacks. “Remarkable. We could use someone like you in the Jeon Corporation.”

Both you and Jungkook choke, clearing your throats at the sudden suggestion, glancing at one another. “I’m sorry?”

“I’m thinking about opening a chain of restaurants, something high end, something different.” Jungkook’s brothers are stepping in closer to listen shamelessly to the conversation, the look of disarray stamped onto each one of their faces as if it’s the first time they’re hearing this information, for the second time tonight. “I would love it if you gave me your take on how to proceed on some things, and help the chef formulate something that makes sense without him cheating me out on prices. Jungkook, tell Maeri to schedule something for us so I can discuss further details.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” You blurt, palms growing sweaty. “But you just met me, and Jungkook and I just started dating. Are you sure you trust me?” It’s another experience of déjà vu; Jungkook mirroring his father’s actions at the yacht party when he claims that he’d pay for your aspirations.

“Of course. Jeon Jungkook doesn’t have girlfriends.”

Just then, someone taps his shoulder and whispers something ineligible into his ear before he turns to you with his hand extended, and you take the offer with a firm shake. “I’m needed elsewhere. It was nice meeting you. Glad to know Jungkook chose someone fitting.” And with that, he leaves.

“Well, that was pleasant,” Mrs. Jeon comments, hand resting on Jungkook’s shoulder. “Seems that sending you off to live alone has brought nothing but good impressions on your father. Keep it up, Kook-ah. I’m going to go accompany him, so in the meanwhile, introduce her to your brothers, why don’t you?”

Turning your body to face Jungkook, you let out the hugest breath you’ve ever held in your entire life. “What was that?”

He looks equally as stunned as you. “I don’t know but that went so much better than I actually thought. I think that was the fastest he’s ever been fascinated by any of our girlfriends.” 

Jungkook’s father had strict outlooks for the company, one of them being that he wanted nothing but pure Jeon blood leading the corporation. This meant that the significant others of any of his children weren’t allowed to be part of the trade. So why did he ask you particularly for a hand in the family business?

“Jungkook,” One of his brothers calls out, your heads sharply jolting at the sound of his voice.

Have you ever watched Boys Over Flowers? When the Flower 4 walk through any entrance, it’s like time slows down and their hair flows through the wind like they’re models?

That’s what pretty much happens.

“Hyungs.” He says; it’s their own version of a hello and the atmosphere between them is tense. “It’s nice to see you sober, Jungkook.”

His jaw tightens. “I wasn’t an addict, just you so know. Made it easier being around you all.”

“Yeah, yeah,” The one you assume is Jongseok from your previous google search waves his hand, disregarding Jungkook’s statement before pointing his finger directly at you. If only you could bite it off along with his rude mannerisms. “Girl toy?”

“Girlfriend,” Jungkook corrects him and his other brothers are intrigued. “This is my girlfriend,...” As he says your name, your eyes immediately are drawn to the woman behind one of the males; shiny caramel colored hair with the simplest white dress that hugs her small waist that still manages to make her look like a goddess with a smile that was so sweet your teeth start to hurt. You recall catching a sight of her in the same magazines that Jungkook featured in and on the posters at the mall whenever you’d walk into a store but how she looked in person was flawless compared to those photos. She was like the real life version of a photoshopped picture.

“This is Hayoung, my brother Junghwan’s wife.”

“Uh, H-H-Hi,” why does she make you so nervous? Do you get anxious around extremely beautiful women? “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” She hums, cheekbones high with her grin. “Kookie never mentioned he had a girlfriend, let alone brought anyone to meet his family before.”

“Kookie?” You reiterate with a mocking tone. He knows you’ll never let him live this down. Least he still had the Guy Fieri thing up his sleeve. “Noona, it would’ve been nice to keep that away from her for a bit. I’m trying to ease her into this madness. She’s probably still recovering from that conversation with our father.”

“As if!” Hayoung counters back. Her husband, Junghwan, wraps an arm around her waist before dipping his head slightly toward you. “I’m Junghwan, Jungkook’s older brother.” He then begins to point at the other gentlemen. “Jonghyun, Jungsik, and Jongseok, respectively.” 

Frankly, it had been a lot to unpack for the night, and you assumed that the boxes back at his apartment were a lot, but this was truly a lot. Within an hour, Jungkook introduces you to almost anyone that plays a significant role in his life and elaborates on each of their backgrounds. 

Junghwan, his eldest brother, is married to the international supermodel Na Hayoung, and he’s the next in line to inherit the CEO position when his father steps down from the company. He’s been trained all his life for this role, apparently, and it’s evident in how he carries himself. Jonghyun, the second oldest, stands behind Junghwan in the company, supposedly his right hand man when it comes to business, joined at the hip although their personal relationship with each other isn’t as close. He’s also married, Jungkook mentions, but his wife is currently very pregnant and at home. He skips over Jungsik, only because you’ve met him over dinner, but he doesn’t miss a beat when he says that Jungsik is purportedly the angelic Jeon. Lastly was Jongseok, the last sibling before himself, and was described as something along the lines of, “the most useless, right after myself, and if it weren’t for his involvement with the marketing department because of his diploma, he’d be living in a studio apartment downtown, cut off from this family too.” Jungkook’s words, not yours.

The night slowly reaches an end, people scattering to leave the estate, thanking Jungkook’s parents for hosting such a charitable event. Just before you’re about to step out along with Jungkook, his mother had her fingers wrapped around your wrist. “Jungkook, you and your lovely girlfriend should stay the night. Downtown is far and your siblings will be here as well. Maybe you can show her to your bedroom? I know you’ve been missing your bed and well... maybe show her around your childhood home.” She pauses for a moment as Jungkook hesitates as you eye him suspiciously before interrupting his thoughts. “Your father wants to speak to you and your brothers in the morning anyways, so it would be nice for you to stay for breakfast, dear.”

“Are you fucking dense, Jeon Jungkook? I do not want to stay the night here.” Contradicting your angry words, you’re already unlatching the attachment on the straps of your heels, sliding them off while seated on the bay window seats of his bedroom, rubbing the soles of your feet. “I’m sorry,” He mutters weakly, falling on the foot of his bed. “I don’t know how to say no to my mother.”

“Well, quit being a fucking momma’s boy and call an Uber. I want to go home, Jungkook.”

“Uber’s don’t run this late at night in the area. We live too far off the grid.”

“Well, then ask Mr. Hyungjin to pull up in his whip and take us home.”

His face drops, a guilty look pooling in his orbs. “We sent him home. He’s technically off on the weekends. Hyungjin only came out because Junghwan asked for him beforehand.”

You grumble, laying back on the cushions, locks tangling along with your mood. “What are we supposed to do here? Share a bed? What am I supposed to wear to sleep? Did you already ask your housemaids?”

“No,” He answers bleakly, standing up. “But I’ll go ask now. In the meantime, you can watch some TV? Then when I come back you can shower and do whatever you need. I think I have a spare toothbrush for you to borrow. As for the bed thing...” Jungkook looks over at that California King that he misses so much. “... it’s more than big enough for the two of us, I’ll keep my distance from you without a problem.”

Before you can counter the suggestion, he’s already out the door.

Perusing through his bedroom, you soon learn that this ‘room’ of his is the size of your childhood bedroom times five with a closet the size of your apartment with a connecting bathroom that was equivalent in surface area.

Then it has you thinking. Jungkook grew up like this, in a life of grandeur where everything he had, he had a plethora of. Whether it be education, belongings, or the aid of people who tended to every need he had, it never seems to run out. He had a driver since he was born while you struggled to learn how to take the bus alone at the age of 7. Or running out of money to pay for a new notebook for class since you’ve been using the same one for the past two grades in order to save cash so your parents could put food on the table. While Jungkook over here was probably tearing down trees in his yard to make all the paper in the world. What about noticing that you were ahead of the kids in your class? No one seemed to have realized it until you said to someone that you were bored, and needed more challenging material when you got sent to the Principal’s office per request, begging to be with the bigger kids.

If you had the money Jungkook had, you would’ve been able to pay off both yours and your parents’ debt in addition to opening your bakery all within the same year. 

But you aren’t Jungkook, and jealousy just runs through your veins alongside the enmity. 

Entering through the housemaids’ chambers was a nostalgic feeling that he couldn’t exactly say was his favorite. Sneaking down here during the late hours of the night for quick sex and running back up to his bedroom felt like such a teenager thing to do at the age of twenty, so he instantaneously gave up on that. 

There’s two wooden doors to choose from. Nayeon, the house servant he slept with several times before realizing that she had falling for him while thinking it was some forbidden love, and Hana... also a servant that he had sex with until she also fell in love with him.

So which one of them would be less upset about him asking to borrow their sleepwear for his new girlfriend?

Answer to that question: neither because they both slammed their doors on him after asking. He should’ve figured that sooner.

Next stop: Junghwan’s room. Maybe Hayoung had something for you. 

He hesitates when he’s standing outside of his brother’s bedroom door. It takes him back to when he was a kid all over again, desperate for his big brother’s attention who didn’t even have enough time to dedicate to him. Taking in a deep breath of courage, he does it yet again, his knuckles tapping against the wood that makes the same knocking sound.

Peeking out, Junghwan looks at Jungkook with a perplexed expression. “Jungkook, what’s up? Are you alright?”

“Uh, yeah. Is noona with you?” He nods. “Yeah, of course. She’s washing her face right now, wanna come in?” Jungkook steps into the room, ambivalent with each movement because he’s never been invited into Junghwan’s room before. It’s almost exactly what his room looks like, except all the shades are dark, varying from grey to navy, with his bed, closet, and bathrooms in the same locations. 

“Hayoung, Jungkook is looking for you.”

“Kookie?” Coming out the bathroom with a robe on, her hair is drenched as she attempts to towel dry it, face pretty even without makeup. “What’s up, bub?”

“Uh, my girlfriend,” He starts, rubbing the back of his nape anxiously because he’s never said those words before, “She doesn’t have anything to wear tonight. I have some clothes, but I think she’d feel more comfortable if she at least has some pants.”

“Tell her to sleep in her underwear, what’s the problem?” Because she’s not really my girlfriend, is what he wants to say, but he takes a different approach. “We’re... still in the early stages. So, uh, you know. She’s shy.” She shakes her head with a smile upon her lips. “Okay. Give me a second. I have a bunch of clothes that I left when we used to live here.” With that, she disappears into the closet.

“I’m... proud of you, Jungkook.” Junghwan speaks up, protruding through the silence. Jungkook just stares in bewilderment, unsure what he even did to make Junghwan say those words he had dreamt to hear coming from his eldest brother. “Other than landing a girlfriend who is definitely way out of your league, you’re actually showing some progress living alone. I honestly didn’t really agree with the plan that Jongseok proposed but... I see it’s working well.”

“W-What do you mean?” Jungkook questions. He still can’t believe what he’s hearing.

Junghwan hums. “You were able to find a job yourself. I haven’t seen you coming back begging for money again, and you found someone who doesn’t have the facilities to give you the lifestyle that our parents gave us. You found love without money and I think it really makes a person humble.” He’s fiddling with the strings of his sweatpants now, comprehending that the two of them don’t really talk one-on-one. “I know I changed a lot when I met Hayoung.”

“Kookie, I think I have a couple options for you— whoa, why does it feel so sad here?” She remarks, stopping in the midst of her walk toward Jungkook. “You guys... alright?”

“Nothing,” Junghwan responds quickly. “I just wanted to tell Jungkook that I’m proud of him.” This does nothing but prompt Hayoung to roll her eyes, laying out a pair of shorts and a silky baby blue nightgown. “Junghwan is always proud of Kookie, just not always the decision he makes. Anyways,” She completely brushes off the topic that Jungkook wants to hear, but he’ll circle back to that later. He had a pretty girl waiting in his room who had the temper of the Hulk. “I have two options for you to give her. Maybe you’ll get lucky and she’ll wear the night gown?”

Jungkook scoffs. “If I brought that to her, she’d probably wrap it around my neck and choke me within seconds. Keep the gown, I’m taking the shorts. I’ll let her wear one of my T-shirts.”

“Are you sure?” Hayoung sings and Jungkook tells her he’s almost confident that he’s going to die tonight if he so much reaches the door with that thing in his hands.

Jungkook chucks the shorts at your face while you’re laying on your back on his mattress. “Here you go, Mrs. Fieri. The girls wouldn’t lend me anything because well... I may have slept with them both and they were hopelessly in love with me. Hayoung noona gave me those shorts instead.” He’s babbling on about how rude the housemaids had been when he asked, but you’re canceling his voice out because the coolest chick you’ve ever met just lent you her shorts.

“... Are you even listening to me?”

“Huh?”

He snaps his fingers in front of your face but registers that it’s no use. You’re too busy trying to decipher how God decided to gift Hayoung the looks and the personality that you miss when Jungkook leaves the closet, throwing a plain white t-shirt at your direction. It’s huge compared to you, yet seems like it would fit him well. “Go shower. I’ll be in there after you.”

It’s awkward.

So goddamn awkward. 

Jungkook is wearing a black T-shirt of some band you can’t recognize because the majority of the print has been worn off paired with grey sweatpants that hug his ass so beautifully. Scratch that. You never thought that. They look soft. That’s what you meant.

While you’re currently occupied with attempting to avoid looking at Jungkook, he can’t stop staring at your exposed legs and notice how small and cute you are. Soft. It’s tempting him to want to wrap his arms around your frame and snuggle his nose into the crook of your neck while inhaling the scent of his body wash on your skin. He wants to blame it on the dry spell he’s having because all he does is work nowadays that once he gets home, he’s completely drained. Alcohol doesn’t even appear in his mind either. Or maybe he genuinely thinks you’re pretty and having you in his bed doesn’t make it any better.

Sitting on the farthest opposite ends of the bed, Jungkook clears his throat. “See? I told you that the bed is way too big for the two of us. Should be easy to steer clear from each other.”

Wrong. Incorrect. You should’ve known that Jungkook would be fallacious.

The sun gleams through the sheer white blinds of his prodigious windows, illuminating your faces on an unironically Sunday morning, emitting a groan from a stiff beside you. Your body feels heavier than usual, almost like something was pressing down on you. 

You panic. Were you having a stroke?

After forcing your eyes open from the dry boogers, you can’t believe the sight. Jungkook has his arms and legs tangled in the sheets with yours, nose brushing against your shoulder. He’s so cosy, the most he’s ever been, and the warmth from your body is like a different feeling of home for him. It’s comforting like a cup of hot chocolate during the harsh weather in the Winter or swaddling yourself in a blanket in front of the fireplace. Now knowing how it feels to be in your embrace, he’s not sure if he wants to let go.

“Jungkook, please get the fuck off me.” You bite. Cuddling was not what was discussed in the terms of agreement. Not that there was one but having a buff guy curled up beside you that wasn’t actually dating you was making your heart do cartwheels when it shouldn’t be. He doesn’t seem a bit rattled knowing that he’s snuggling up against you because he scoots even closer. “Five more minutes.” He mutters. His dreams of taking in the aroma of your natural scent mixed in with his shower gel were coming true.

You push him off with as much strength as your body could gather, yet you fail underneath those muscular arms. Those big, thick—

There’s one knock and someone just immediately flings the door open with a gasp. 

But then you see them. Jungsik and Jongseok. 

You don’t know why but you care about how Jungsik sees you, but you care. He’s the closest to your ideal type— as unrealistic as it is for him to ever have a relationship with you, especially since he has a fiancé now— yet at the same time, he knows you’re ‘dating’ Jungkook, and whether or not he believes it, you’re not sure, but your chances were already wearing thin as it is, even worse now that he’s witnessing you in the same bed as his youngest brother. You may have a teensy weensy little crush on your fake boyfriend’s brother.

“Cute,” He chuckles, already dressed in his daily attire; grey slacks that crop at the ankle and a navy dress shirt that doesn’t button up all the way, hugging tightly around his pecs that doesn’t leave much to the imagination. “Well, we’re sorry for intruding. Father wants us down for breakfast within an hour. Wake up your boyfriend for us, will you?”

“I’m not sorry,” Jongseok adds with a devilish grin before he quickly shuts the door and leaves promptly with Jungsik. Jungkook hasn’t even moved, not even twitching the slightest bit despite his brothers’ abrupt invasion.

You officially hate Jungkook even more... if that was even possible.

There's an abundance of choices for breakfast foods that sits on the length of the dining room table that you had gotten a glimpse of during your first visit to the Jeon estate, more food than you've ever seen in one place. They had waffles, pancakes, sausages, bacon, toast—all that’s expected of a typical American breakfast laid out like it’s a picture from the Food Network Magazine. He has servants, shuffling through in and out of the room, placing plates and utensils in specific detailed orders before they pull out the heavy upholstered wooden chairs for each and every member of the family in invitation. 

"Uh, it's okay, thank you, I got it—" The woman who has her hands gripped on the framing of the seat tightly as she clenches her jaw, has a glare shooting lasers in your direction. Maybe you'd just take the offer and sit instead. She might be one of Jungkook's late night affairs, you never know what she'd do to your food if you didn't comply.

Sticking out like a sore thumb, you settle yourself by your now claimed to-be-boyfriend who sits comfortably in his own seat since he's owned it for two decades now. You, however, it's your first day and you're not even sure how to feel. Hayoung seems to be doing the opposite; eyes shiny from excitement at the sight of all the options that are laid out in front of her. You can agree to her interest, the Belgium waffles that's stacked at the center of the table with a square of butter residing on top makes your mouth water.

"Thank you all for coming," Jungkook's father announces, the chair he's rested on makes him look so tiny at the head of the table. "I want to discuss some matters with all of you and also invite Jungkook's new love into the family. Honestly never thought this day would come where I'd see my most troublesome child make such advancements in a short span of time."

There's reticence along the table, Mrs. Jeon beside him, eyes searching the table for something in particular. "The proceedings with this engagement with Kim Nari, Jungsik. What did you expect would happen with that?"

And there it was. The conversation that had been put off last night due to guests being on the residence. It's because of two of the things that Mr. Jeon stood by when it came to his family and business: no bloodline, no business entrance had been challenged and the Interrogation had never been in place. 

"Father," Jungsik clears his throat, pressing his back against the cushion. "I'll have you know that I'm only thinking of the future of our company."

"Without talking to me about it?" He snaps, agitated. He doesn't even care that a complete stranger is sitting at the table with them. "What gives you the right to be the only person to know what's good or not for the company? Why not consult with Jonghyun and Junghwan? Why am I told that no one knew about this?"

"Well, I thought—"

"You thought wrong." He confirms, and the Belgium waffles don't seem as appealing anymore. His firmness makes your stomach queasy, despite not being his current victim. "Terminate your engagement. You don't love her anyways. I don't need any affiliation with a self-obsessed tech company."

"But father—"

"None of that." He shushes his son, laying a beige cloth napkin on his lap. "I'm tired of having to teach you how we run this business. I gave you a percentage of the company and I expect you to know what to do with it, which is not to share it with some airhead who doesn't even understand what her own father's company does." Jungsik's body stiffened at his father's lecture after he made a decision solely for what he believed was beneficial for the family business. "Anyways, let's eat." 

"Why do you favor Junghwan over the rest of us?" Jungsik spits, fist slamming against the table. The cups, silverware, and plates trembled underneath his strength, startling you. "I can't believe that I let you walk over us for so long. I can't believe that any of us has let you do it. In reality, none of us get your fortune, just Junghwan. What about the rest of your children? Do you have the only one? Or did mother have an affair for the remaining four?"

Yum, drama. You admit you were getting a little bored last night at the banquet, but his conversation was perking you up in interest. Jungkook oddly remains cool, turning to tap one of the housemaids to pour you some apple juice, patiently waiting for the go to eat. 

Jungsik is disparate in this light because he's not the compassionate and gentle soul you had assumed he was during your first encounters and what was seen on the internet. He’s fierce and competitive, in actuality, with this hidden duel behind doors against his eldest brother. The description written of him was all an image that was portrayed to the public and you start to see what Jungkook means now when he says "apparently" or "supposedly" whenever talking about his older brother.

And Jungkook... he's strangely distinctive as well when sitting amongst his siblings. He's quiet, actually, and attentive, but you take note that he mentions before how he often comes to these things under the influence, and that your presence was what halts him from doing so. 

"Just eat. We'll talk privately later." Mr. Jeon says through his gritted teeth, tips of his ears fading red from Jungsik talking back.

"I saw you eying that waffle earlier," Jungkook says in a hushed tone, leaning into you. "Want one? I'll grab it for you."

OK, maybe he wasn't that bad. He knows what you like and he’s getting it for you. You’ve waited long enough.

The Jeons are awfully good at pretending the argument between Mr. Jeon and Jungsik didn't occur. Everyone sits in lull, occasionally exchanging comments with whomever sits beside them but consuming their breakfast with glee. It wasn't something you were used to.

When you're back into Jungkook's room, you slip on a jacket that you brought the night before, zipping it up. "Is that... normal?"

"What's normal?"

"That whole thing with Jungsik and your dad. Do they fight often? And do you guys normally just... sit there and forget it even happens afterwards?"

He slides onto the bed one last time, inhaling deeply in the scent of lavender, wishing he could take this bed with him as he absentmindedly responds, "Mmm. Yeah."

What kind of family dynamic is this? "Yeah? And you just... watch?" 

"Well, what else are we supposed to do? Join in? Take sides? Hell no. It's a different sibling each meal and every time there’s always someone being jealous of someone else. We don’t really get along here and it’s just what we’re used to.”

Treading into Jungkook’s reality was starting to become comprehensible. Almost justifying the way he is, how he’s utterly clueless in basic situations and disconnected he was from the world. Because this is his world; his parents, four brothers, and house full of servants, and he knows nothing outside of it. Their home is completely off the grid, separated from people living regular lives, he even has his own tennis court (you learned from the view from his bedroom), and no one normal has their own private tennis court. His mother has been shielding him his entire life, letting him grow and become a shell of a man in an empty home.

Family isn’t family to him, is what you’ve come to terms with and something he hasn’t yet accepted because he hasn’t seen what a real family looks or feels like. His home isn’t a real home but brimming with employees who work for his family that probably see him more than the people who he called relatives.

It makes you pity him and want to show him what it’s like to be home.

[ash-whimsicalfanfic]

Hope things are going well for you!

Could you do a Gibbs x y/n where there son falls at home and gets a broken arm and y/n feels horrible/guilty that she let it happen under her watch. He meets them at the ER where the son refuses to let him go and y/n won't meet his eye. On the way home he holds her hand and convinces there son that his cast is cool and he can ask others to sign it. When they get home he goes to play. Gibbs finds y/n crying asks him "why am I such a bad parent"

Bad Mom?

Leroy Jethro Gibbs X Fem OC/Reader

Word Count: 2461

Warnings: Mild language, blood, injury, gore, angst…

A/N: Hopefully, this is okay! I really enjoyed writing this! Sorry it took so long for me to get this done! Xx

You hum softly as you continue working on the salad to go with dinner. Jethro would be home a little later, but you always make sure he comes home to a nice, relaxing dinner.

Your guys’ son, Maddox Leroy Gibbs, was upstairs playing with his newest birthday gift. Jethro had got him a wood-carving kit and now Maddox couldn't keep his hands off it.

All of a sudden, you heard thumps before the most pained scream you've ever heard. You dropped the glass bowl of salad, ignoring the glass shattering on the ground as you race towards the crying.

There was Maddox laid on the ground, cradling his arm. You fall to your knees beside him and gently grab him.

"Baby, hey, I need you to tell me what happened. What hurts?" You ask softly.

"M-My arm!" He wails.

You gently pull his hand away as your stomach flips and your throat tightens seeing blood and bone. He screams, wailing louder.

"Look away." You demand as you stand, picking him up as you grab the keys and your phone on the way out.

You barely were able to lock the door as you run out towards your car. You get him in the booster seat, grabbing the first aid kit and quickly taping gals over it loosely so he wouldn't be able to see it.

You hurry to the drivers side, starting to drive the way that Jethro drives. You open your phone with shaky hands and dial his number. It rings and rings until it says his mailbox was full. You throw the phone down in the seat next to you as your shaky hands grip the wheel tighter as you break every driving law to make it to the hospital.

You were out of your car, running to his side of the car as you swung the door open, picking him up and running inside. Immediately nurses flank you, having you place him on a gurney before your told to move your car.

You felt irritated, but you also understood. You quickly move you car before finding your way inside. You weren't allowed to go in the room with him as they had an officer on the way to question you. You knew they thought this was some abuse case, but it wasn't. You grab your phone dialing his number again and you kept dialing until he finally answered.

"Hon, I'm in the middle of a case right now." He says irritated.

"J-Jethro, h-he fell down the stairs and he hurt his arm really bad. T-They won't let me see him! They have an officer coming to question me because they think this an a-abuse case!" You sob into the phone, ignoring the nurses who gave you the stink-eye.

"Hon, I'm on my way. Do not answer any questions. Tell them your waiting on me." He says sternly.

Before you could say anything, he had hung up. You let your head fall into your hands as you cry harder.

"I want my mom!" He wails and you stand as you rush towards him.

"Ma'am, you can't see him until you've been questioned and cleared." A nurse snaps, pushing at you.

"He's my son! I'd never hurt him! Let me see him!" You snap, trying to push through towards your son.

"Mommy!" He wails.

"It's okay, baby! Daddy's on his way!" You say as tears fall down your cheeks and big burly security guards push you back towards the little sitting area in the hallway.

They cuff your hands behind your back and make you sit as you refused to leave. You looked at the ground, your head racing as terrible thoughts went through your head.

Jethro parks his car hastily, getting out of the car as his team followed him in. He tried to get them to stay and work on the case, but they refused. Maddox was their nephew and they'd do anything for the kid.

Jethro walks in, his eyes finding you. For a brief moment, he felt relief until he saw the cuffs on your wrists.

"Take the cuffs off her, now." He barks, striding towards you.

"Sir—now!" He interrupts.

The security guard fumbles with the keys as he roughly pulls you up before Jethro pinned him against the wall. Tony grabs the keys off the floor, undoing the cuffs on your wrists.

"Don't you ever put your hands on my wife like that again." He warns.

"Hey sweet cheeks, your okay." Tony murmurs as he hugs you.

"They won't let me see him." You mumble numbly into his chest.

"They will once Gibbs is through with them." He teases and you couldn't help the small shaky smile.

"Hon, come on." Jethro says.

You walk towards him, keeping your eyes casted to the floor. His arm wraps around your waist protectively as he walks towards the desk.

"Where is my son?" He demands.

"S-She needs to be questioned." The nurse says weakly.

"My wife wouldn't ever lay a hand on our son. He fell down the stairs, kids have accidents all the time. Let me see our damn son." He snaps.

"O-Of course, right this way sir." She says and starts to lead us towards the room he was in.

You hesitate and hang back towards the doorway as Jethro heads towards Maddox who was sat up in the bed with a light blue cast on his arm.

“Daddy!” He exclaims, throwing himself towards Jethro who chuckles and catches him.

You catch sight of stitches across his eyebrows and you let a shaky breath out.

“Careful buddy, you can take someone out with that thing.” Jethro teases which makes Maddox giggle.

“I don’t really like it. It’s going to stop me from being able to do my wood carvings.” He pouts.

“I think it’s a really cool cast. You can have people sign it even! And you can take a break from the wood carving, son. I’ll get you some more while you got the cast on so we can let the supplies build up.” He says.

“Okay! Uncle Tony, will you sign my cast?” He asks.

“Of course! I even so happen to have a sharpie on me!” He exclaims with a childish grin.

Your heart aches and you sit down as you watch Maddox with soft and sad eyes. Jethro was in the corner of the room, on the phone with director as he kept an eye on Maddox as well.

You look away from Maddox and at the floor when a nurse walks in. She looks at you as if you had the plague, in which Maddox notices and frowns.

“Why are you looking at my mommy that way?” He snaps.

The nurse was taken aback as you look up alarmed. You stand, walking over to the bed and reach a shaky hand out to brush his hair away from his eyes. You leave a kiss on his head.

“It’s okay, baby.” You murmur.

He looks at you confused. He was a smart child for his age. He definitely had his fathers profiling skills, that’s for sure. He looks back at the nurse, his eye narrowing as he latches onto you, hugging you tightly. Jethro was grinning in the corner as your lips part in surprise.

“Ma’am, we still have to follow protocol.” The nurse says in which your heart shatters.

“Protocol? Mommy, what’s she talking about?” He asks, looking up at you with Jethro’s blue eyes.

“It’s nothing, baby. Mommy will be back, I promise.” You murmur.

“No. I’ll be back, buddy. Mommy will stay with you.” Jethro says.

You watch confused as he leaves with the timid nurse. Tony throws an arm over your shoulder and smiles.

“Trust me, boss will handle it. Your a good mom, don’t let them tell you otherwise.” He says.

“Are they saying your a bad mommy?” Maddox asks confused.

“I-I, no…they just have to follow protocols they put in place to keep people safe.” You explain slowly.

Thankfully, Jethro was back quickly and even somehow managed to get his prescriptions whilst filling out the discharge papers. Jethro sent the team back in the work car and was going to drive you and Maddox home. Tony offered to drive Jethro’s car home, but you settled on taking Jethro to work tomorrow as you felt guilty for calling him from work early.

Maddox was asleep in the backseat, and you were focused on the building and other structures out your window. Jethro kept glancing over, sensing you weren’t okay. He grabs your hands and squeezes it gently.

“Sorry I snapped at you on the phone earlier today, hon. I don’t want you to think you can’t call me. For now on, I’ll answer immediately if I’m not out in the field.” He promises.

“Jethro, I’m not upset you didn’t answer or that you snapped at me. I know your working on a case right now.” You say softly.

“Then what has you upset?” He asks as he pulls into the driveway.

“Nothing.” You lie, getting out of the car.

“I’ll get him. You get the door opened.” He says.

You nod, heading towards the door and unlocking it. You are greeted with blood on the ground and you immediately grab your cleaning caddy from the closet and start cleaning it up. Jethro walks in, holding Maddox. He frowns seeing your shaky hands scrub at the puddle of blood.

“Hon, I got that. Let me go put him in bed and then I’ll clean that up.” He says.

“No, it’s okay. I got it. Here, you go on up and I’ll finish this up.” You say quietly.

You move just enough so he can get up the stairs. He gets to the third or fourth step before looking back down at you concerned. His eyes find your bruised wrists and his frown deepens. He turns, focusing on getting Maddox up to bed.

“Daddy.” Maddox mumbles sleepily.

“Yes, buddy?” He asks softly, tucking him in.

“Why did the doctors think mommy is a bad mommy?” He asks.

“Because they are a bunch of knuckleheads and don’t know what a good mommy you have. Don’t worry about it, buddy.” He says.

“Daddy?” He whispers as he starts to fall back to sleep.

“Yes?” He asks.

“Can mommy give me a little brother or sister?” He asks.

“I…I mean, I’ll talk to mommy and see what she wants to do, but she loves you so much. I think she’s happy with just you.” He murmurs.

Little did Maddox know, Jethro was scared to have another one. He was scared to have Maddox after what happened with Shannon and Kelly. He barely let you in and then finding out you were pregnant nearly sent him over the edge. You loved kids and you want a whole damn school bus of kids.

Maddox goes to say something, but it was little mumbles before he was softly snoring. Jethro chuckles, brushing his hair out of his forehead before leaning down and kissing his head.

He heads downstairs to see the blood cleaned up. He goes to the kitchen where he heard you. You were sweeping up the salad and broken bowl into a pan.

“What happened?” He asks, taking the dust pan to hold it.

“When I heard Maddox scream, I just dropped the bowl and ran for him.” You mumble quietly.

“Hon, go take a bath and relax. I’ll finish the clean up. I promise you that Maddox is okay.” He says.

You hesitate, but with a stern look from him, you nod slowly. You head up the stairs, starting your bath. He finishes up the floor before he cleans up what would have been dinner. He does dishes and takes the trash out before deciding to check on both Maddox and you. He checks on Maddox first to see him sleeping.

He nears the bathroom before slowing his steps as he hears your muffled crying. He walks in and sees your face buried in your knees, suds covering your bits from view.

“Hon, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He asks, kneeling by the tub.

“Why am I such a bad mom?” You sob.

“Y/N, what are you talking about?” He asks.

“He’s hurt because of me, Jethro. Those nurses had every right to look at me like that. I’m a terrible mom. There was blood, everywhere and the bone was sticking out. His screams…gosh his screams were so loud. I didn’t even notice he cut his eyebrow until I saw the stitches.” You sob.

“It’s not your fault, Y/N. He’s a kid and kids have accidents. Maddox loves to run throughout the house and we could tell him until we were blue in the face not to run in the house. He slipped and fell. It wasn’t your fault. You know how many times I got hurt as a kid? A lot. We can’t protect him from everything as much as we wish we could. Things like this will teach him why we tell him not to run in the house or why not to go outside barefoot. We can only do so much. Your an amazing mom. He knows so.” He murmurs, rubbing your back.

“I can’t even look at him. I feel terrible. It’s all my fault.” You whisper.

“It’s not your fault and you know that. He knows that and I know that. He knows your a good mom. He told me when he woke up briefly because he caught onto the way the nurses were treating you. He actually wants another siblings. He told me.” He says, sighing as he plops on the ground.

Your head flies up, your eyes wide as you look at him. You reach a hand out and grab his hand, rubbing it gently.

“You know we don’t have to. I know how scary it was when you found out I was pregnant with Maddox. I am perfectly content with Maddox and you.” You say softly.

“I think I might want another one. Maybe we’ll get a little girl this time.” He murmurs.

“Really?” You ask surprised.

“Yeah.” He says with a soft smile.

“Your such an amazing dad, Jethro. Maddox absolutely loves you. He always tells me that he wants to be an NCIS agent just like you.” You say with a soft smile.

“And your such an amazing mom. He tells me all the time. He also tells me how much he loves you and how much he wants to make you proud. Whether it be cleaning up his toys or helping with the groceries. He loves you and he idolizes you so much.” He murmurs.

[ouiouimochi]

Rayne, Rayne (Part 2)

Part 1

pairing/s: rayne ames x f!reader, rayne ames x you

genre: childhood friends, self-sacrificing mc, hurt/comfort, resolved misunderstanding, fluff (yay)

wc: 4.7k

warnings: mentions of injuries, violence, human experiments, swearing. there's elements of comedy I think, it's half unserious I'm sorry, semi proof-read

taglist: @kaoiyeva @judithregulus @ctmaw

here's the long awaited part 2, thank you for your patience <33

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

In the meeting room of the Bureau, the Divine Visionaries gathered to discuss Rayne's report on the mission as the said male had just been dismissed to go rest.

“A failed first mission for a Divine Visionary, a reconnaissance at that.” Orter pushed up his glasses as he evaluated the report.

“Failed reconnaissance it may be, all the pertinent information had been gathered for us to finally make a move against the organization. They're using live human test subjects.” Sophina argued, although agreeing that it could've been handled a bit more cleanly.

“I'd say they did more than expected… We also managed to retrieve useful intel. Not only that, they single handedly managed to wipe out their security— elite ones included— as well as handled the executive mostly involved in the suspicious activities. It's quite a surprise to have discovered that the executive used an illegal magic booster, though.“ Kaldo analyzed the results of the mission.

The Light Cane laughed boisterously, before snapping his finger.

“To think young students like them were able to handle the enemies like that before the brilliant me could've arrived to handle it all! Impressive, I must say!” Ryoh approved.

Everyone else followed through after hearing Ryoh’s thoughts. It was due to the blond’s description of the organization as he arrived— it was just more than a mess with unconscious bodies endlessly littering the hallways. He also noted how he did catch the other executives fleeing but unable to locate the head perpetrator. So color him surprised when he discovered said missing perpetrator dealt with and a hauntingly huge rift on the ground being left behind.

•°•°•°•°•°•°

The medical bay of the Bureau was only filled with the sounds of gentle breathing coming from the lone patient resting on one of its hospital beds. Rayne walked in, seating himself on a chair beside the bed.

The male sighed as he observed how peacefully you were breathing as if you didn't exhaust yourself to unconsciousness in his first mission. You definitely gave him something to worry about when you immediately passed out after casting one last support spell on him that ended up turning the tide into his favor.

He wondered how much magic you poured into him that it was just enough for him to activate his Thirds and swiftly defeat that executive— leaving behind a big crater in the process that it was a surprise that the whole building didn't collapse.

The honey eyed male wondered what goes through your brain as you always seemed to follow him around despite his cold demeanor. How you stuck around despite never outwardly acknowledging your presence nor help.

Again, he wondered how much would you be willing to sacrifice for him— just as you always seemed to do ever since meeting him again in Easton. You were so much as ready to let him leave you behind, after all.

He can't help but think you were a huge help as well as a huge headache.

The half blond massaged his temple, having found himself to be slightly angry at your self-sacrificing attitude.

He stops.

He stops to think as to why he'd be angry… to why he cares about your well-being… since when have you managed to worm yourself to a soft spot amidst the steel walls he built up— the same walls that kept away Finn in hopes to protect him.

Just how? It was unfathomable for him. For the first time, he outwardly expressed an emotion on his face.

You stirred in your bed, slowly becoming conscious— registering your surroundings at your own pace.

The smell of antiseptics and medical herbs greeted your senses first. The feeling of the soft blanket that covered you was next. Lastly, your eyes were greeted by an angry Rayne.

You blinked away the dots that slip into your vision— ‘Wait.’ a pause.

You bolted right up and looked at the figure seated on a chair beside your hospital bed. You then held your head as you got slightly dizzy from the sudden movement. Groaning when the ache in your bones finally registered as well.

It was silent. You looked up and confirmed that it was Rayne who was indeed seated there. And he wore an expression of concern.

Well… there wasn't much of a change in his stoic expression from another's perspective. Rather, you noticed the way his eyebrows shift and eyes widen from their previous positions of furrowed and narrowed. To be fair, they were minimal changes that only you can notice at a glance…

The silence hanging in the air was awkward as you two inadvertently engaged in a staring contest.

You broke that silence with an equally awkward, “Hi…?”, you were just hella confused why the dual-colored haired male was angry at you the moment you awoke.

You don't think you've ever seen him this expressive since you reunited with him back in middle school. You panicked and got more confused as his eyebrows twitch further down just by a really barely noticeable bit. You're actually starting to get nervous now.

“Why.” he spoke suddenly— you're just in a spiral of confusion at this point.

“Why… what…?” you respond back with a slight head tilt, absolutely clueless.

“Why would you do that?”

“What exactly????”

Rayne was absolutely getting annoyed at how clueless you were, he sighs before proceeding with what he's gonna say.

“Why were you so willing to just sacrifice your life like that?” He spoke up, eyes fiercely looking into your own. You were astounded, about to respond back, but interrupted by your childhood friend.

“Why do you just… Do all these things for me?”

He never broke eye contact.

“Why… do you accompany me in my tasks, help me out in Fortune Telling class… Why do you even follow me around even though I push you away?”

“Just why… even after all these years… why would you get close?” He ended.

A silence passes over… each second passing by causing Rayne to regret— to think he might've talked too much.

You looked down on your hands that you unconsciously curled together on your lap during the golden-eyed male’s interrogation. Looking solemn, before speaking up.

“It's just… to make it up to you, I guess…”

“You know since you and Finn suddenly disappeared… I've been wondering to myself if I was being too mean… Maybe that one little stupid ‘rayne, rayne, go away’ song I continuously sang might've just actually been the last straw and you left…” You admit…

Rayne was gaping at you—not in the open mouth flabbergasted expression, but gaping as just blankly staring— although you didn't notice it as you continued.

You laugh slightly, although it lacks humor in it. “As I grew up, I had to think back that maybe it was childish to think that was the reason you two left… But I just started thinking more… of how I should have treated you at least a little bit kinder as kids… Given that you and Finn were the only ones who stuck around with my mean self…” You twiddled with your thumbs.

“I changed myself for the better I guess… even my mother was surprised when I told her I wanted to study some subjects at that age..”

“So yeah… I guess it was just pure fate that I managed to meet you again— I felt that I just had to make it up to you…” You look up to the male to gauge his reaction, only to be met with him holding his face in his left hand while the other rests on his hip.

Rayne was absolutely…so dumbfounded that he had to ground himself back to reality by letting things process. He breathed to himself as he pieces together what you told him.

‘So all that kindness and sacrifice despite my treatment… ‘ He started… Rayne Ames was known to be a brilliant character, only having to learn of one thing to know of ten others.

But this took him quite a while to piece together and rationalize.

‘Just to apologize for her childish teasing that doesn't hold much weight to me at all’ If he could facepalm, he would have, but his face was in his hand already.

It's a whole buck wheat of a fucking misunderstanding just because he disappeared after circumstances completely unrelated to the reason you just said.

He can't find himself to be mad at you, not after you basically just… poured your heart out to him— showing your vulnerability… even though your main motivation to help him was… due to a misunderstanding.

This man's smart brain just cannot— absolutely blanks.

Congratulations, you've managed to break THE Rayne Ames.

The half blond inhales deeply, before removing his face from his hand.

“(Y/n). “ He so seriously calls your name after a while.

“...yes?” You respond.

"You're telling me that you stayed despite my constant effort to push you away…” he pauses, having to think about how to word it properly.

"...because you believed that it was your fault that we suddenly disappeared years ago and you felt guilty about it?”

You were worried about how he was reacting.

“...yes…?” You can't understand where he was directing the conversation.

He just looks at you dead in the eye, not knowing what else to say.

Rayne trusted your intellect in multiple things— above the average person’s, even. But this was just… he doesn't know how to bring it up to you since you've been sincere in your actions— he doesn't want to be mean about it.

You just continue to look at him, clueless. That actually sends something to wash over him— similar to the urge he gets when taking care of his rabbits. The feeling of protectiveness and caution from accidentally hurting something cute.

So admittedly, the honey eyed male might've found you cute… especially with how you were focusing on his reaction anxiously.

So he steeled himself to bring his chair closer to your bed, leaning forward with his arms on his knees to be closer to your eye-level.

“(Y/n).” He called your name again— he wondered when he started calling you by your name again, actually. Was it during your third year in middle school? He just noticed.

He actually didn't know where to start, but he had to start somewhere. A silence filled in the pause, you were still anticipating what he was gonna say.

“...Finn and I left due to… certain circumstances…” Rayne finally got out, not going into further detail of said circumstances.

“And we never once thought you were mean when we were kids…”

You blink. Letting the words sink in as you piece together everything else— something finally clicking in that pretty little head of yours.

“Oh.” Was all you can say as you felt the world— your world— stop and crumble.

An existential crisis turns into existential crises.

The monologue about what you strived to be, what you pushed yourself to avoid being… due to a childhood guilt that hung heavy in your heart— and it turns out that it wasn't even the cause of the Ames’ sudden disappearance.

An absolute overshot into outer dimensions. You felt stupid.

You wanted to smack yourself, chuck yourself out the window, have the ground eat you up alive, anything. Just to get out of this very embarrassing situation.

You felt so utterly hot.

Rayne has been observing you all this time, growing more and more concerned due to your reactions— he feels bad that he had to tell it to you.

The honey eyed male may not be the best when it comes to emotions, but he can imagine how it'd be like to have a motivation to strive for something for a long time… only for that motivation to turn out to be misdirected.

You unceremoniously fall back onto the bed, not caring about how you were basically recovering from a back injury. Your companion undoubtedly worried about you.

You then wordlessly wrap yourself up in the blanket despite how hot your face felt. You heard Rayne call your name but you quietly asked him to leave for now.

He does so obediently. The moment he closed the door behind him, he heard muffled screaming.

•°•°•°•°•°•°

The door opens and you think it was the doctor or nurse, but it was Rayne. He wordlessly walks to the chair and seats himself again before carefully placing a wrapped up food box on your lap.

You were going to tell him to go away, but it was interrupted by an audible growl of your stomach— so you just had to accept the food.

You took a bite of the food, relief flooding your system. You continuously eat, actually enjoying the food the half blond brought you.

Speaking of which, you can feel his gaze on you the entire time, awfully sensitively aware of his every movement. He blinked, and you gave in. You turned to him suddenly, breaking the silence first.

“Pretend I didn't say anything earlier…” Your ears turned red at the memory— the embarrassment. So you took another bite of food.

Rayne sighed before speaking.

“If that's what you want.” He sincerely respects your request and you can't help but internally thank him for that.

It might take you a bit to get over the existential crisis but that'll probably be a problem for another time as you allow yourself to be comfortable with the silence now.

Then you got curious.

“So what happened after I blacked out?” Another bite of food.

And so Rayne narrated the events that happened right after you became incapacitated. You learned that the vial that rolled away from the executive contained some sort of magic booster— that explained why the guy was able to stand up and fight again.

You chew some more, listening to the golden eyed male.

“You were able to use your Thirds? How much magic did you even have to do that— heck you had a third line???” you asked, slightly miffed at him.

He shook his head only slightly.

“The spell you casted on me was just enough for me to do a summon. I hid my third line for valid reasons.”

“Fair enough.” You swallowed the last bit of food, fixing the box before putting it aside. You were glad that the last resort spell actually helped a lot.

“Mr. Grantz took a while to meet us since he came across the other executives that fled. He didn't question anything much when he arrived though.” He concluded his story.

“Hmm, is it a mission failure or success? The Bureau had been keeping its eyes on that specific organization after all for suspicious activities…But then again it was only supposed to be recon….” You wondered.

You sighed, remembering how you two got detected and discovered despite your spell and the provided cloaks.

“We wouldn't have been discovered if my stealth spell wasn't imperfect…”

“Stop blaming yourself already.” Rayne speaks up as he takes away the food box and puts it on top of the bedside table.

“The executive was wearing an artifact stolen from the Magical Tools Department that allowed him to detect anything within a certain distance.”

Although he didn't outright say there was nothing wrong with your spell, you felt reassured.

You also realized that this is basically the longest conversation you two held ever since reuniting— somehow makes you nostalgic of how you yapped to him while he talked with you when you were children.

This was Rayne letting you back in through an open door, and you willingly walked inside.

This felt nice.

•°•°•°•°•°•°

“So you're telling me you're not fully ignoring Finn… just making it look like it so that nobody targets him when you reach the top?” You incredulously asked him.

He directed his gaze to you, confirming your question.

So ever since the medbay incident, Rayne had been treating you less coldly now. If anything, we can say that he'd fully let you in. He even let you know about his pet rabbits— which you obsessed over with how cute they were.

You were currently eating lunch with him in the Adler Prefect office— you're unsure why the school decided to add more duties on top of his Divine Visionary ones the moment you two became third years. You had to interrogate him when you remember about Finn moving up to his first year in the highschool department.

“I cover all his school needs and allowances.” He countered.

“Does he know?” He remained silent, causing you to become exasperated.

“Rayne,” you looked at him, “you should seriously talk with him. The poor kid was bullied in middle school and had no one to go to. He turns to me, but I can tell he's hiding some things too.”

He stood his ground on maintaining his distance from his little brother.

You groaned at that.

“You're so intolerable.” The honey eyed male then looks at you with interest.

“You can understand the word now, huh?” Rayne was hinting at something— you realized it was something from your childhood when he insulted you with that but you couldn't understand it anyways.

The male knows how to tease people, apparently— or maybe it was just you… or maybe he learned a few things from you.

You facepalm “Fine, guess I'll continue looking after your younger brother then.” You sighed out.

•°•°•°•°•°•°

You were looking after Rayne's rabbits since he was too busy to do so, and so was his roommate who was apparently the one who suggested rabbit breeding to him in the first place. You gotta wonder how he managed to rope the older Ames into doing it though.

You felt a weight suddenly settle itself on your lap, slightly surprising you before calming down when you noticed it was just a rabbit.

“Usao,” the name of the rabbit, you pat its soft fur carefully as you lightheartedly scold it, “you shouldn't do that so suddenly.”

Nonetheless the affectionate rabbit nestled itself further into your touch as the others also seemed to get the same idea of surrounding you to get the same treatment while staying seated on the soft carpeted floor of the room.

‘The carpet's so soft— most likely for the bunnies to sleep on. ‘

You laughed lightly, bringing out a package of carrot sticks you personally cut earlier to feed the rabbits.

You checked the thermometer mounted on the wall to make sure the temperature was just right. Rayne was pretty particular about his rabbits’ environment and conditions. It was something you found endearing, in a way.

Who knew the cold and stoic Sword Cane was an absolutely rabbit obsessed man? You found it funny how even his comforter and bed sheets were rabbit themed. At least you'd know what to give him for his birthday or the holidays.

You shook away the thoughts, focusing on taking care of his rabbits. The door of the dorm room opened and you turned your head, not expecting anyone else to come in since you were pretty sure Rayne was still out.

‘Maybe he had to get something?’

So a figure emerged and it wasn't Rayne. You and the unknown person froze up upon seeing each other.

The brunette slowly brings his hands up in the air as you quickly point your wand towards him— when and where you pulled it out of, that's a question for another time.

The male was surprised to find someone in his dorm room. What colored him even more surprised was that it was a girl in the men’s dorm.

He racked his brain to try and remember if Rayne said anything about someone else being in the room. Something clicks in his brain.

“Uh… are you the person Rayne mentioned to be the rabbits’ caretaker today…?” He asks, you slightly lower your wand, not fully letting down your guard as the brunette sweats more.

He points to himself, “I'm Max Land, his roommate.”

“Oh.” It clicks, right this is a shared dorm room. You completely lower your wand and tuck it away, careful in not disturbing the rabbits huddled all around you.

“(Y/n) (L/n)... err nice to meet you?” You introduced yourself a bit awkwardly since you kind of just… threatened the poor guy.

Thankfully, the male just laughs, finding the situation a bit funny.

“Nice to meet you. I apologize for interrupting your caretaking time, I just forgot my textbook for my next class.” And so you allowed him to get his things while you wonder why in all your years in Easton, have you never met this guy despite being Rayne’s roommate for all these years too.

“How come we’ve never met each other before despite knowing Rayne for a long time?” You voiced out as the other male paused on his way out.

Max thought about it and you were right. You two shared a look.

Then something clicks in his brain as he brings a fist down into his palm.

“Oh! I think he's mentioned you a few times. Were you the one who helped him out lots of times because you—” The brunette cuts himself off, remembering Rayne’s words about not letting you know that the half blond told him about your… motivations of helping him. The honey eyed male was only asking advice from him on how to make it up to you since he felt bad about it. Rayne probably didn't even mean to expose you since he needed to provide Max with context at least.

He laughs it off, looking at his wrist. “Oh, look at the time! I believe I have to go… Goodluck taking care of the rabbits!” and he disappears.

You raise an eyebrow… He didn't even have a watch on…

More importantly— Rayne definitely told Max about what happened in the medbay. Your eyebrow twitches…

‘I’d have to talk to Rayne later…’

•°•°•°•°•°•°

Rayne comes back to his dorm around sundown— a bit earlier than planned since he managed to finish his business quicker. He opened the door and immediately checked the thermometer on the wall, seeing that it was at the right temperature.

The half blond slipped off his robe as his eyes quickly scanned the room for his pets— finding them huddled in a pile on the carpeted floor. So he trudged over carefully in his socks, having removed his shoes before stepping on the soft carpet.

‘Did she go to the bathroom?’ he thought to himself when he found you nowhere in sight.

He then realizes that his rabbits wouldn't make that big of a pile even if they all huddled up together. The honey eyed male gently picks up Usatarou, confused as to why the bunny wasn't in his favorite spot at the corner of the room.

Rayne looked down again and his eyes were met with the sleeping figure of you cuddling with all his rabbits while holding Usao in your arms.

An arrow shoots through his heart at the sight.

He pulled out a magical tool from nowhere and snapped a photo.

Click!

You stirred in your sleep. The magical vintage camera had defaulted into using a flash.

The half blond was quick to tuck the device away as you started becoming more conscious.

The room was slightly dark as stray rays of sunlight peeked through the window as it sunk into the horizon. It casted more of a golden tinge in the surroundings.

You squint your eyes as it immediately darted to the figure standing near you. You sat up as the rabbits near your head hopped a little bit away but kept close proximity with you.

“Rayne?” You rubbed your eyes, thinking the golden sun rays were creating a hallucination of some sort.

You blinked and he was still there.

“You came back quite early.” You noted as he only nodded and sat himself beside you. Some of his bunnies immediately flocking to him for affection to which he gave them.

You observed him, the usual cold and stoic demeanor he carries himself as basically melting away as an air of softness surrounded him. You stared and unconsciously smiled at the way he caressed his rabbits with care— a barely noticeable twitch of his lips settling on his features.

‘He looks so… pretty—’

You had to snap out of it— he was your childhood friend nothing more, nothing less. You ears were basically tinged with red.

You shook your head and caught Rayne’s attention. The look in his eyes asking if anything was wrong.

You waved your hands around, “Ah it's nothing! Just an unnecessary thought.” You tried to smile it off.

His honey eyes scan your features, noticing how your ears were slightly tinted. But he made no mention of it as he allows himself to completely lay down on the carpet.

“Whatever you say.” He said, mentally wondering if what you were thinking had something to do with what he was thinking. He closed his eyes.

Until he felt your finger prod at his cheek. The half blond opens his eyes only to be greeted by you overshadowing him from above with narrowed eyes. You were slightly pouting too.

Not gonna lie, he thought you were adorable but he won't admit that.

“So how did your roommate ever know about ‘that’?” you asked passive-aggresively.

He just continues to stare into your eyes, unblinking. A mini staring contest.

Rayne sighs as he folds— knowing it was him who was at fault anyways. He was not one to run away from responsibility either.

“He doesn't know the whole thing…” he started, formulating the correct wording, “but I had to provide him with some context so he can provide me advice.” The male explained.

You retract your finger from his cheek, pausing.

‘Rayne? Asking for advice? Now that's something.’

You thought of how considerate it was of him to ask for advice on how to handle you after ‘the reveal’. You always knew your childhood friend was a little bit lacking in the field of socializing and related gestures despite being so strong.

‘Kind of explains how he treats me more warmly now…’ you noted mentally.

You sighed, unable to be mad at him when it allowed for the two of you to get even closer. You then plop yourself beside him, his rabbits now surrounding you both.

“He better be the only and last person.” You grumbled a bit, basically letting him off the hook this time. The dual-colored haired male nods his head as he maintained eye contact.

You then stare up into the ceiling, noticing how the room was slowly turning dark as the sun disappeared further into the horizons.

“So what was the mission this time?” You asked, falling straight back into the habit of asking about his day.

A comfortable atmosphere curtains over you both the same way the darkness did— you two paying no mind to the creeping shadows while you two chattered away.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

BONUS:

Max Land comes back to the dorm room, hoping to apologize to Rayne for almost exposing what the dual-colored haired male told him not to. He steeled himself before opening the shared dorm room.

He was greeted by darkness.

‘Maybe he's not back yet?’

The brunette turned on the light, his eyes immediately darting to the carpeted floor. There laid his roommate’s bunnies.

As well as the peaceful and slumbering forms of you and Rayne.

Max gapes in surprise, putting up a hand to his face to cover his mouth. He stalks closer very carefully before taking a picture.

He internally screams at how he saw this coming even before he met you. His roommate may rarely talk about you, but the change in his expression as he did so didn't escape his keen eye.

‘Now it's just a waiting game of who does the first move.’

bonus art bc of how long I kept y'all waiting

just to be clear, y'all are free to imagine what and how you look like ^^ just wanted to put in the reader/mc so it's easier for me to draw :>

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[journey-to-the-attic]

3rd anniversary req 21: [DDVD] levi, satan, beel / babysitting

ao3 link

note: i tried to incorporate most of what the request form said - hope you're happy with this, anon! this one's just precious <3

∎ ∎ ∎ ∎ ∎

“Behave,” Lucifer says sternly, and shuts the door.

Levi exchanges a look with Satan. For some reason, he gets the feeling that Lucifer was talking to them, and not the toddler clinging to the back of Satan’s leg.

He cranes his neck down. IK is already staring wistfully at the door. Satan would probably compare her to a lost kitten; Levi thinks the look is more akin to a sad Lotan.

“Beel’s in the kitchen,” He says to Satan in an undertone, and the two of them hastily adjourn to three-sevenths of a family meeting.

Couldn't Lucifer have picked any other day for whatever fancy reservation he's made for their date? It's clear he doesn't entirely trust the only three babysitters available. He knows this because Lucifer added all three of them to a hastily-made, very secret group chat a few hours ago - to warn them of what would happen if anything went wrong. 

The three of them sit silently around the kitchen table for about five minutes. Finally, Satan clears his throat, and looks at Levi.

“You’re the oldest here,” He says. “You should know what to do.”

Levi grimaces. “Well, I don’t.”

The three of them look to IK, who is sitting solemnly in the head chair. None of them know where Lucifer keeps her booster seat, so she can only just about see over the edge of the table. (IK usually protests about having to use it, so she seems happy with the situation.)

“It can’t be that hard,” Satan mutters, mostly to himself. “If Lucifer can handle it.”

Usually that means no one else can, Levi thinks, but wisely chooses not to say this out loud. But it can’t be that different to what we usually do… right? I mean, I guess we don’t really do the proper care stuff. That’s Zhao’s thing. We just hang out with her…

“Pom-pom,” IK mumbles.

Satan blinks, then tilts his head to the side and leans forward. “Sorry?”

“Pom-pom,” IK repeats, louder this time.

“I don’t… what’s ‘pom-pom’? Is it one of your toys?”

“Hmph,” IK says, then hops down from her chair and toddles out of the kitchen with such authority that none of them think to stop her.

It takes Beel’s phone going off to bring them back to reality. Lucifer has sent them, rather aptly, a parenting book. Satan decides to stay behind to read it while Beel and Levi are sent to wrangle the kid - and figure out what she’s actually after.

IK hasn’t made it far. She still can’t get up the stairs on her own, nor can she open any of the doors without full-body ramming into them, so she’s only managed to make it a little way down the corridor.

“Pom-pom,” She insists when they catch up with her.

“We don’t have pom-pom,” Levi says a little breathlessly, even though he really didn’t go that fast. “Can’t you just tell us what you want?”

IK cannot, apparently. She leads them on a merry chase in about five circles around the ground floor (she kicks every time they try to pick her up) before finally sitting down in a huff in the middle of the living room. Levi’s secretly a little grateful for the chance to rest his legs - this is the most he’s moved in the last month.

“The floor’s cold,” Beel says patiently, attempting to pick her up. IK manages to wiggle cleanly out of his hands and goes straight back to the ground. “Come on, let’s go sit somewhere comfy, okay?”

“Pom-pom,” IK mumbles, beginning to look a little tearful. The look on her face makes it clear: if Lucifer was here, he’d totally know what to do by now. 

It’s, quite frankly, unfair. He’s already good at everything else. Levi had really expected childcare to be the one thing to trip him up.

Situations like these really call for Asmo. Once again, Levi finds himself wondering why in hell he’s here.

“IK,” He tries - unable to muster one of Asmo’s many pet names and resorting instead to sounding as pathetic as possible, in hopes that she’ll take pity on him. “IK, c’mon. Wanna come see Henry? You like Henry.”

Beel tries to pick her up again. IK gives him a severe, uncannily Lucifer-like look, then stubbornly slips down until she's lying flat on her back.

“We need some blocks,” Satan announces, walking into the room with far too much confidence. “Do we have blocks?”

“Of course we don’t,” Levi says miserably, about two minutes away from lying on the floor himself. “Why would we?”

“Then I will go find some blocks,” Satan says decisively, and walks straight back out again.

IK stays on the ground, staring blankly up into the ceiling. She doesn’t look as if she’s throwing a tantrum so much as she looks like she’s lost all hope in the world. It kind of hurts his heart.

He glances up at Beel. His brother’s brow is deeply furrowed in thought. After a moment, he sits down, and carefully pushes his palm underneath IK’s head. If she won’t get up, at least he can give her a pillow.

Satan comes back with a crate that he says Lucifer’s been keeping in his study (which is supposed to be locked right now, but that’s on Lucifer for not using a strong enough charm), and produces a set of patterned blocks that he attempts to gently encourage IK to play with. All IK does is hold them limply.

“Maybe she needs a nap?” Beel suggests, but IK doesn’t seem to like that idea. In fact, after hearing the word, she appears to start deliberately keeping her eyes open for as long as possible out of spite.

Satan looks something up on his phone - steadfastly refusing to call Lucifer - then abruptly hurries off again. He comes back with some cardboard, a ball of wool, and a pair of scissors. IK lifts her head to watch him with interest as he sets about snipping and tying. Finally:

“There you are,” Satan announces triumphantly, and presents IK with a little green ball of fluff. “A pom-pom.”

IK sits up and holds it blankly. Then she shakes her head.

The dismay on Satan’s face would be funny if Levi didn’t feel terrible for him. “No? Is it the wrong colour?”

“Pom-pom,” IK says sadly.

“Fine…” He reaches out to take it back, only for IK to snatch the pom-pom-that-isn't-the-right-pom-pom back. “Hey. I thought you didn’t want it.”

“Mine,” She mumbles stubbornly, and dodges his next grab as well. “Mine!”

“But it’s not your pom-pom, is it?” Satan asks, now beginning to grin. “Come on, give it back.”

“No!” IK scrambles to her knees, then shuffles to hide behind Beel’s broad back. “Mine!”

“I made it! Give it back!”

“NO!”

Clutching the pom-pom, IK jumps to her feet - and, wobbling unsteadily from side to side, full-on sprints out of the living room.

Satan reacts first, almost as if he were expecting it. Hauling himself to his feet, he practically gallops after her, leaving Beel and Levi in stunned silence, still sitting helplessly on the floor.

“I didn’t know she could go that fast,” Levi says after a moment. “Do you think Mammon’s been teaching her?”

“We should probably go after them…” Beel glances down at the crate. “Should we bring the blocks?”

Satan has cornered IK in the library when they catch up with them. Even as they sidle awkwardly through the door, she looks sharply around the room, spots the still-ajar door to Lucifer’s office, and promptly zooms inside. Satan, of course, doesn’t hesitate to do the same.

Levi follows just in time to see him double-evade her around the desk, then shoot forward and sweep her cleanly off the ground - “Got you!”

“No!” IK insists, even though she’s giggling so loudly that the word is barely discernible.

“No? Certainly looks like you’re— ow!”

Something has flown out of Lucifer’s desk and propelled itself directly into Satan’s face - so hard that he’s shoved backwards into a cabinet and knocks a bottle off its stand. IK does not help things grabbing a fistful of his hair to keep herself steady.

“What the—” On closer inspection, the thing that came out of the desk appears to be a little stuffed pigeon. As Satan spins around, attempting to regain his bearings, it folds its wings and jabs its little felt beak at his eyes.

“What do we do?!” Levi yelps, hands braced to do something, though he hasn’t the faintest idea what.

IK isn’t giggling so much as she is wailing now - Satan, though still reeling, has enough sense to pass her off to Levi before attempting to wave the pigeon off. His arms windmill around so wildly that it’s only a matter of time before he—

“Oof!” Levi manages to shield the back of IK’s head with his hand, but his own nose isn’t so lucky. “Watch where your hands are going!”

“I’m getting attacked!” Satan snarls, and looks one peck away from zapping the pigeon into dust. “Do something!”

“What am I supposed to do?!”

Beel, at this point finally stepping into the situation, clearly has more wits about him than either of them. He surveys the situation, steps forward, and plucks the pigeon cleanly from the air.

It goes straight to ferociously attacking its fingers. Without the momentum of flight on its side, though, its blows are virtually harmless. At this, Levi hesitantly lowers his hand from IK’s head.

“This definitely has Lucifer written all over it,” Satan grunts, a hand pressed over his eye. “Smug bas… ahem. Am I bleeding?”

Levi leans over and peers at his face for a moment. “Nah, you’re good.”

He lowers his hand, but he doesn’t look any less mutinous. “Who gave him the idea of putting toy security in his desk?”

“I don’t think it’s security,” Beel says, holding the pigeon’s head still with one hand and reading its label with the other. “I think it’s a toy for IK. See?”

The company name does check out. That doesn’t explain why it comes to life and attacks people, though.

“Well, it’s not a spell I’ve seen anywhere before, so don’t look at me,” Satan grumbles.

Beel inspects the plush pigeon for another moment, then (still carefully holding it still) holds it out to IK. She looks frightened - but, under his reassuring gaze, slowly reaches out, and bumps a little fist to its beak.

The pigeon immediately stills. Levi would’ve thought he’d just hallucinated the whole thing if it weren’t for the red mark on Satan’s forehead.

“Oh,” says Satan himself, realisation dawning. “He enchanted it. That’s…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, but clearly he isn’t angry anymore. Beel gently presses the pigeon into IK’s arms, and it comes briefly to life again to tuck its head lovingly against her cheek.

“That isn’t an easy enchantment,” Satan murmurs, wiping his brow. “He’s probably not done testing it.”

“Looks like it works fine to me,” Levi says, watching IK attempt to feed the pigeon her green pom-pom. “Do you like it, IK?”

“Mmm,” IK says, flapping the pigeon’s wings. The pom-pom falls out of her arms and lands softly on the floor.

She notices its absence after a moment and makes a sound of dismay. Satan huffs, then stoops to pick it up for her.

“At least you like it,” He mutters, passing it back to her. “Are you sure it’s not your pom-pom?”

IK shakes her head seriously. She gazes at him for a moment, then mumbles something and makes a gesture in his general direction. Levi obligingly leans forward.

“What now?” Satan sighs, but ducks down to her level anyway. “Are you going to hit me, too?”

Far from it. IK pats his cheek until he stops frowning, then stretches up to the red mark on his brow and gives it a kiss.

“...oh.”

If Levi didn’t know better, he’d say Satan was dangerously close to tears. His brother clears his throat and offers a slightly shaky smile. “Thanks.”

IK hums, then pulls both pigeon and pom-pom tight to her chest, and tucks her head under Levi’s chin. Before he can stop himself, he lets out a sharp squeak, like a poorly-oiled door.

“I think it’s time for a nap now,” Beel says, watching her with a little smile. “Let’s go.”

“Okay,” He agrees, voice quivering, and follows him out of the office. Satan stays behind briefly to shut the drawer the pigeon flew out of, but doesn’t bother re-locking the door.

The crate of toys is still sitting in the middle of the library. Levi gingerly lowers himself into an armchair and lets IK figure out how she wants to sleep; Beel sits down on the floor directly opposite him and contents himself with watching her.

Satan stands silently for a while, then settles beside the toy crate and starts methodically stacking the blocks himself. Levi watches him, too afraid of disturbing IK to move.

“She’ll probably be hungry when she wakes up,” says Beel, setting his chin on his knees. “I think there are some strawberries left in the kitchen.”

“We need something more substantial than fruit.” Satan sets the final block on his tower, then promptly knocks the whole thing over and starts again. “Sandwiches, maybe…”

IK isn't asleep for long before she abruptly startles awake again. Levi opens his mouth to say something sappy that'd usually come out of Asmo - then quickly realises that something's up. 

"What?" Satan asks, sitting up. 

"I don't..."

IK is practically ramrod-straight in his arms. Her eyes are open, but she stares directly ahead of her, far into the distance.

Beel lifts his head and rises to his knees. "Give her here."

Levi can't do anything but acquiesce. IK doesn't respond at first, but almost as soon as she leaves Levi's arms, she takes in a sharp breath, and begins to whimper. 

"Wait—" Instinctively, he tries to snatch her back, but Beel holds firm. "Why... what's wrong?!"

"Nightmare," says Beel shortly. "Belphie used to do the same thing. Can you go get some water?"

It might be the fastest Levi has ever gone to do something. Beel doesn't get IK to drink it - instead, he dips a finger in, and draws a streak across her forehead. At this, IK pauses, eyes wide. 

Satan darts to pick up the pigeon from where it's fallen to the floor. It begins to move as soon as he presses it to IK's face - fluttering its wings and gently grazing its cheek against hers. Levi imagines he hears it coo. 

"Hi," Beel murmurs, doing the same trick with the water again This time, IK makes a sound of protest. "Don't worry, it's gone now."

IK mumbles something and twists away, attempting to wipe her forehead. Beel smiles and does it for her. "...there. That's how you know she's awake again."

"Bad dream, huh?" Satan clicks his tongue sympathetically, then leans down and kisses her forehead - returning the favour from earlier. "Are you still tired?"

She blinks slowly, then makes a quiet noise of affirmation. Beel nods seriously. "You can sleep again, then. We'll keep you safe, okay? Your dad will be home soon."

"Okay," IK whispers, and closes her eyes again.

———

Some time later, Belphie gets home. By that weird twin-sense he shares with Beel, he comes straight to the library. Since IK went back to sleep, Levi's taken a turn on the building blocks, for want of something to do. 

“Do you know where IK’s pom-pom is?” Satan asks without looking up from his book.

“Huh?” Belphie drops his bag with a loud yawn. “What d’you mean, where?”

“She wouldn’t stop asking about it.” Levi precariously sets one tower on top of another. “We didn’t know what it was.”

“Oh, she wants pom-pom? That’s easy,” Belphie says with infuriating nonchalance, then wanders across the room, where IK is beginning to stir in Beel’s lap. “Hey, twinkle-star.”

The three of them can only watch in dawning realisation as Belphie crouches down, shifts seamlessly into demon form, then offers the end of his tail like it’s some kind of toy. IK blinks at him, then scrambles up and makes a grab for the fluffy bit at the end.

“Oh.” says Beel a little weakly. “You were talking about Belphie’s tail the whole time?”

“Pom-pom,” IK says happily.

[jrow]

May Prompts (25)

Day 24 here. Start from the beginning here. Day 26 here.

Intuition

He may not be Sherlock Holmes, but he trusts his intuition.

In fact, right now his intuition is probably a hell of a lot more reliable than Sherlock’s. He’s seen what Sherlock will do when blinded by anger.

It’s time for Captain Watson to take control.

“Don’t look out the window,” he hisses through a smile. “Keep looking at me or Rosie. Look happy.”

“But John—“ Sherlock argues, gesticulating wildly.

“Sherlock. Trust me.” He knows his tone leaves no room for argument. Even from the great Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock freezes and then starts fidgeting slightly awkwardly. He seems almost … flustered. But then he gives a tiny nod and plasters on a fake smile while keeping his eyes firmly on Rosie.

“Good. Now, you are going to get up and go order two coffees. And I am going to call Mrs. Hudson and ask her to pick up Rosie from here.” He looks at his daughter who is happily scribbling with the crayons and blank paper they brought. He thinks maybe he can see some hearts among her chaos of lines. “We aren’t doing anything until we get Rosie out of here.”

That seems to get through to Sherlock. “Right. Of course. Coffees.”

They proceed with their tasks and soon are back at the table, pretending to have a normal conversation while they wait for their landlady. It’s excruciating.

“Who is he?” Sherlock asks, leaning back in his chair, the picture of relaxation.

“I don’t remember his name but he was on the scene at the … Smith abduction case maybe? Something around that time.” He takes a drink of coffee. “And the bastard has been one of the constables assigned to my room too. Changed his hair and shaved off his moustache but definitely the same guy.”

“Of course, I should have known. No man in their right mind would dye their hair that colour. He’s hoping you won’t make the connection,” Sherlock says, picking up one of the crayons and drawing a happy face beside Rosie’s scribbles. She giggles and snatches the crayon from his hand, having decided she needs the yellow at this very instant. “He seems to think he has a lot to lose. I have no doubt he’s planning an escape—somewhere in Europe most likely.”

To anyone else, he’s sure Sherlock sounds calm, but he hears the quiet fury lacing every word.

He doesn’t know what to say, so they sit in silence for a moment. He drinks his coffee and Sherlock and Rosie play a game of keep away with the crayons.

“I wonder how Larkin got mixed up in all this. Hate to say it, but I feel a bit sorry for the guy,” he finally says, mostly to pass the time.

“That’s easy,” Sherlock says, keeping his focus on Rosie. “Constable Needs-to-Die happened upon Mr. Larkin in the midst of some crime. Something serious that would come with significant jail time. The constable looked the other way in exchange for a major favour, which he called in when he decided he needed to get you out of the picture.” A pause. “Feel no sympathy. Robert Larkin got exactly what he deserved.”

That rather somber sentiment is quickly dissipated by Rosie’s squeals of delight and calls of “Nana” that announce Mrs. Hudson’s arrival. She’s trying to jump down from the booster even before Mrs. Hudson made her way through the door.

“What did you tell her?” Sherlock asks quietly, leaning close.

“Just that I … errr… just that I was hoping to have a little extra time alone with you,” he says, feeling the heat in his cheeks rise. It’s not that far from the truth, really, but feels like a confession of sorts.

Mrs. Hudson swoops in and hugs Rosie before Sherlock can respond. “There’s my little princess, let’s get you in your pushchair. We are going to have so much fun!” For a woman pushing 80, Mrs. Hudson is impressively spry. She quickly gets everything together (eschewing all help), including getting Rosie all buckled in without a fuss.

“Thank you, Mrs. Hudson,” Sherlock says, his voice neutral but his toe tapping rather aggressively.

“It’s my pleasure, boys. You two have fun,” Mrs. Hudson replies with a wink. “Don’t get into too much trouble.” Her words are light but there’s a look in her eye that makes him think she understands the urgency. In a flash, she and Rosie are gone.

He tries to pick up his coffee but his hands are shaking in anticipation of what’s to come. And relief that, whatever happens, Rosie is safe in Baker Street. Where she belongs.

It’s also relief that he is here with Sherlock, about to do … whatever it is they are about to do. Together. It’s where they belong.

“John,” Sherlock says, forcefully. “Rosie is safe. It’s time to do things my way now.”

Time to follow intuition once again.

“Dear god, yes.”

@keirgreeneyes @raina-at @totallysilvergirl @meetinginsamarra @jolieblack @phoenix27884 @friday411 @calaisreno @lisbeth-kk @safedistancefrombeingsmart @momma2boys @helloliriels @dapetty @quimerasyutopias

[phoenixyfriend]

Soka Takes a Terrorist: Chapter Two

The latest fic in Anakin and the Jedi Babies. Three chapters total.

In which Anakin tries so, so, so hard to be a good dad.

Chapter 2: Consequences

About two thirds of this fic were written by hand on the train while in Japan.

------------

“You are grounded for the next decade,” Skyguy snaps.

Soka is still in bed. Depa and Master Windu are in the next room, and the ‘real’ Mandalorians are all busy with post-battle cleanup—they hadn’t gotten Tor or Pre, but they’d captured a lot of important people and weapons and data—and Soka… is in bed, Ben crawled in next to her.

Shmi is going to be here in three and a half hours,” Ben announces quietly, “less if she drives like buir and uses those boosters she added.”

The ones Mereel and Jango pretend not to know about when the engineers at the hangar complain.

“Thank you, Ben,” Skyguy grits out, “I’m sure she’ll have plenty to say herself.”

Soka tries not to shrink away when Skyguy towers over her bed. She knows she’s in trouble, but she also knows Skyguy would never hurt her.

Even if some of the dreams she’s had, overlaying Pre’s stories of his uncle with the visions she’s had of their ‘training’ sessions, make the sight enough to cause a flinch.

Skyguy hasn’t ever raised a hand against her, but it’s not only her own memories she’s got in her head, these days.

“I am… incredibly angry right now,” he says, and… steps back. “I don’t know what I did to make you scared of me, but no matter how angry I am, I pro—”

“I know!” Soka bursts out. “It’s not you I’m scared of. Or, I guess…”

He kneels by her bed. He takes her hand. He looks her dead in the eyes, and she waits for his words of comfort.

“Then I assume you’re in a place to hear me when I say that I have never been as angry with you as I am right now.”

Oh.

“I’m sorry,” she says, voice smaller than she’s ever heard herself. “I didn’t mean to get caught.”

He closes his eyes, and does that thing where he tries to collect himself enough to decide if he needs to leave the room to cool off.

“Getting caught,” he says slowly, “is a fraction of the issue. Getting caught was about skill, and I do not get angry with you about skill.”

Her eyes prickle, but she… but she can do this. “I’m not sorry for trying to help.”

“For trying to h—” he cuts himself off and closes his eyes, and takes a breath. “Sokanth, you are ten years old, snuck out on a self-appointed mission, alone, no backup, no supervision, barely a note to tell me you were gone, and not even letting me know where until it was too late to stop—”

He cuts himself off, eyes scrunching shut, and takes several deep breaths.

“He was worried,” Ben says quietly, as if she doesn’t already know, “we all were.”

She stays silent. She can outlast her father. Probably.

“I was out of my mind with worry,” Skyguy confirms. “You are a child, Sokanth. What the hell were you thinking?”

She can outlast him.

He might actually be getting angrier. “Sokanth. Why did you do this?”

(Continue on AO3)

[rathockey]

Have some COVID resources!! I recently started looking into the current state of COVID when I saw that cases were surging again and realized I was pretty uninformed about the current state of things, so I figure other people might be too.

So I‘m linking a few resources I‘ve bookmarked that has some good info about COVID and how to protect yourself and others.

Few things that stuck out to me:

1. We should all be masking at the very least indoors and in crowded outdoor settings (like concerts/festivals/etc)! PLEASE please mask if you are able to. N95/KN95 if you can! Surgical masks and cloth masks are better than nothing, but really try to get the respirator masks. You can reuse them as long as they don‘t get wet or crumpled.

2. The vaccine helps with severity but is actually not that great at preventing infection. Another good reason to be masking up - reducing the viral load you get exposed to helps the vaccine out.

3. Advocate for air purifiers in indoor spaces. We should be breathing clean air!

4. All COVID infections are severe or should be treated as such- ‚mild‘ cases included. Any infection is going to do damage to your body, and repeated infections increase your risk of Long COVID.

5. If you get COVID and you are able to, REST! Mind and body. This will go a long way to preventing long COVID. I know not everyone is in a position that they can do this, but take whatever time you can and let your body rest and heal.

And here are the resources I‘ve found:

This has a great PDF with a lot of good info and sources for all of it, as well as a small zine version you can hand out - https://linktr.ee/act_up_mask_up

This is a map with wastewater data, so you can see how things are trending nationwide (US only sorry!) and in various regions. Check and see if your state or city has its own tracker as well - I know Chicago does.

And here is a site that provides information to some questions/statements people say in attempts to get people to „move past“ COVID. This also has a lot of good information about the current state of COVID.

In conclusion (because this is a middle school paper now i guess)

MASK!

Get the boosters! There are new vaccines being developed that will hopefully help us stay ahead of these variants that keep evolving, but the best way to help those are to mask! Less infections mean less variants :)

AND ADVOCATE FOR BETTER COVID PROTECTIONS AND PROTOCOLS!!! We can only do so much as individuals, we have to lobby for governmental and systemic changes.

Also pls reblog this (and feel free to add your own resources! especially if you have resources for non-usamericans, mine are all pretty US focused unfortunately)

[elliesflower]

I hc Ellie with loser lesbian syndrome with no game and like ankle biter energy but something about Ellie x special affair by the internet is SOOOOOOOOO AGHAHAKAHSJABSIHSUABSJAOSJSBAKAK BARK BARK WOOF WOOF HOWLLLLLLLLLLLLLAHSHAUAGAJSGSHSVSHSBSUSHSBSNEKDHSB

NO BC UR SO RIGHT

(p.s. sorry bestie this kinda turned into a hc and i got a little wild after listening to the song and got a little sexual oops 🤭)

18+ only below the cut!!!

i feel like canonically yes. she’s like all nervous and hopeless romantic n stuff even though obviously she can still lay it down in the bedroom

like, it’d take her a while to get comfortable but once she does you’re like her little confidence booster. just the way you look from across the room really gets her going—i just know she would get cocky about catching you staring too, all corny saying things like take a picture it’ll last longer, or when she’s feeling really overconfident, she’d pull you aside and give you bedroom eyes, what, can’t even look at me without ruining your panties, huh?

and yeah, she can get filthy. like music and candles and freaky shit n yeah. i just know she’d fuck you to the beat of the music, and maybe she’d even laugh at you as you came apart embarrassingly quickly beneath her—or on top of her, bouncing on her strap as she dug her nails into the sensitive flesh of your hips. she would be practically salivating over the way you looked—your tits bouncing in her face as your juices coated her thighs, dribbling out around her cock; the way you drew your bottom lip between your teeth as she pulled you down at just the right angle to drive you crazy.

and anytime you two’d fuck, she’d just have to chime in with some slick comment, whether it’s yeah, i know baby, just can’t control yourself, huh? or even just a simple ‘yeah?’ as she made you squirt onto her fingers.

but you love it and you love her and that she trusts you enough to let her in to her mind—that you make her feel safe, and comfortable, and loved.

[breakfastteatime]

Today's Fallen Order request is "Don't move" for @highbrasshighkass:

The sorry sound of BD’s warble tugs at Cal’s heart. “Don’t move, BD,” he says, trying to contain his own panic. “It’s going to be okay.”

BD believes in him with every single circuit in his frame, however he’d also really, really like Cal to figure this out a little quicker, because BD’s boosters are dead and the ground beneath him is very, very shaky, and if he falls into the river, he’ll be washed away into the sea, lost forever in the depths.

“That’s not happening.” Cal carefully works his way down the tree trunk, testing each limb before transferring all his weight. Unlike the trees on Kashyyyk, their Zeffo counterparts are scraggly and thin-limbed, and Cal doesn’t trust them to hold him, especially as he works his way down the cliff. But if he doesn’t get BD off that crumbling ledge soon, his friend really will be lost forever. Cal hasn’t felt the loss of his abilities this keenly in a while. If only he could pull BD to him. And if wishes were Venators, they’d all fly. “I’m nearly there.”

BD beeps apologetically. It’s enough to send some more clumps of soil tumbling into the river.

“Don’t move, and don’t talk,” Cal advises. “It’s okay. The stormtrooper who hurt you is history.”

BD stays still and silent.

Closer. Closer… Cal places his boot on a branch poking out the cliff and feels it dip, hears it crack. He curses under his breath. If BD falls, he can slow him –

Just like Prauf

– and then he’d just have to dive, grab him, and hope he can fight the current enough to get them back to dry land. He really doesn’t relish the idea of such icy waters, but he’ll do it for BD. They’ll just have to make a fire, dry out, then carry onto the next tomb.

Finally, he’s close enough to reach out and pluck BD off the crumbling ledge. He leans, leans, leans –

The root he’s clinging to gives. Cal cries out as he drops, only for his fall to stop when the root catches. He doesn’t hesitate, grabbing BD and pulling him close, just as the ledge crumbles to nothing, rocks falling into the racing river below. Cal pulls BD close. “I got you, buddy,” he says, swallowing hard against the crush of emotion. If anyone asks, it’s the icy wind making his eyes tear up. “Can you hold on?”

Another sorry beep from BD. That shock baton the trooper caught him with mid-scan really fried his systems.

“Not a problem.” One-handed climb it is. He tucks BD against his chest with his left arm and carefully scrambles his way up the cliff. By the time they’re on solid land, Cal’s right shoulder burns. He says nothing as he sits down, BD in his lap. “Will a system reboot help?”

It will, but it will take some time.

“Okay, I’ll get us someplace safe.” Cal looks around. They’re too far from the Mantis to go back, but they could take shelter in that crashed Venator, out of the weather and away from any patrols, before carrying on. “Let’s go.”

BD whistles with joy. And then, calmer, he thanks Cal for saving him.

“Anytime, buddy,” Cal says. “You’ve done the same for me so many times.”

And please don’t scare me like that again, Cal wants to say but instead settles for giving BD a pat on the head while holding him just that little bit tighter.