#oh that’s right … i have a waffle maker

[icewindandboringhorror]

It always seems a bit unbalanced on The Great Food Truck Race when there will be multiple teams who are cooking a wide variety of complex dishes with 10 different components and a bunch of prep work, and then there's that one team who like... exclusively serves plain crepes with some premade nutella on them, or plain waffles with just some whipped cream and cut up strawberries lol...

[veloriium]

i think owning a waffle maker would save me

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

hi!! can i request carmy berzatto #16, t? 🤭

Finders, Keepers.

16. "Is that my shirt?" + t. Roommates

Author's Note - this is written as part of my 500 Followers Celebration!! find that post here if you're interested. my first time writing for beautiful angel boy carmy <3

Pairing - Carmen Berzatto x Female Reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - smut!! + cursing

Word Count - 1185

Masterlist. 500 Follower Celebration Masterlist.

The Roommate Collection.

Having Carmen Berzatto as a roommate is a blessing and a curse.

It's a blessing for many reasons. He's kind, thoughtful, considerate. He cooks, he cleans, he loads the dishwasher correctly. He's fairly quiet, he respects your boundaries, he always lets you choose the movie to watch. He's perfect in every way, really.

He's perfect in every way. That's the curse.

He's the most attractive man you've ever laid your eyes on. And he cooks. And he cleans. And he's the best roommate you could ever ask for. You're convinced anyone would struggle not to fall in love with him. Anyone.

You've fallen victim to the Berzatto charm. As much as you'd love to tell him, you don't want to ruin this good thing the two of you have. It's not worth it. So, you keep your mouth shut, and your eyes glued to his perfect face whenever he's not looking. It's sometimes painful, but it works.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You're woken up bright and early by someone knocking on your bedroom door.

"I'm making breakfast. Lesson, or nah?"

Before you met Carmy, you couldn't really cook. Sure, you knew the basics, but he's opened you up to all sorts of new techniques and flavours. Whenever he starts to prepare a meal, he'll ask you if you want a lesson. Sometimes, you'll say no, content to watch him do his thing in the kitchen. More often than not, you'll say yes, allowing him to talk you through what he's doing and why. He explains everything step by step, always ensuring he's thorough but never patronising. These little cooking lessons allowed the both of you to get to know each other, bonding you together.

"Yeah, sure!" you call through the door, still half asleep. "Give me a minute."

You hear him turn the coffee maker on, the sounds of mugs clinking together filling the kitchen.

You stumble out of bed, grabbing around for something to wear. You find a dark grey t shirt on the chair and throw it over your head haphazardly. Pulling some socks on to tackle the morning chill, you run your fingers through your hair before making your way through the apartment.

Carmy's wearing his navy plaid pyjama pants and a white t shirt that hugs his biceps just right. His hair is sticking up in all directions, and it takes everything in you not to reach out and fix it into place.

"Morning, sweetheart," he says without turning around. "What do you want for breakfast, pancakes or waffles?"

"Hmmm," you debate. "Waffles, I think."

"Waffles it is."

Carmen turns around from where he's been brewing the coffee, and almost falls over. You're stood leaning against the counter, hair mussed and eyes still sleepy. Your legs are on full display, socks ending just above your ankle, skin glowing in the morning light. You smell like warmth and a golden sunrise. Carmy holds onto the mug in his hand like his life depends on it.

"Coffee," he stutters, handing it to you. You cross the kitchen and take it from him, kissing him on the cheek as a thank you. You both pretend not to notice the way heat blooms up his chest at the action.

The longer he looks at you, the more he can't put his finger on what it is that's driving him insane. There's something different about you this morning, and it's got him riled up. His eyes rake over your body once, twice, three times before he figures it out.

"Is that my shirt?"

You look down to find that yes, it is. You must have picked it up from the pile of clean laundry he did yesterday accidentally.

"Oh, shit. Sorry, Carmy."

"No, it's okay. You look... you... it's - fuck."

You've never seen his brain short circuit like this, and you're not entirely sure what's happening.

"Are you... alright, Carmy?"

"God," he groans. "Stop saying my name like that."

"... like what?"

"Like... fuck. You say it so fuckin' pretty."

He has a look in his eyes you've never seen before. It's almost animalistic. He looks feral.

He strides over to you, cradling your face in his calloused hands. He presses his forehead to yours, and exhales shakily.

"Will you let me taste you, honey?" he murmurs.

Your breath catches in your throat, and your knees go weak. It's a good job he's holding you up.

"Please," he practically begs. "I'll make you feel real good."

You answer him by smashing your lips to his, hands fisting in the front of his shirt. He kisses you back with vigour, tongues tangling and mouths melding. You moan and he swallows it, committing the sound to memory.

Carmy walks you backwards and hoists you up onto the edge of the kitchen table, before dropping to his knees. He looks debauched, knelt in front of you with wide eyes and swollen lips. You think he's never looked prettier.

He starts by kissing up from your ankles to your thighs, building the tension expertly. You're practically vibrating with anticipation, desperate to feel him where you need him most. Your underwear is soaked through, and you're convinced you're going to go insane if he doesn't get his mouth on you soon.

As if he's reading your mind, he nudges his nose against your covered core, inhaling. He groans at your scent, and it's the filthiest thing you've ever seen. He pulls your underwear down in one quick swoop, looking up at you carefully. You grab the hem of your shirt, ready to pull it over your head, but Carmy stops you.

"Leave it on," he mutters. "Please."

You nod your head, and he takes that as confirmation. He dives into you, lapping you up like a man parched. He's nipping, biting, suckling at you as if he's done it a thousand times before. You prop yourself on your elbows, giving you the perfect view of this perfect man in this perfect situation. He's so eager to please you it makes your heart and your core ache.

"Fuck," he groans. "Sweetest thing I've ever tasted."

He slips two fingers into you with ease, and your back arches. You're writhing, moaning on every out breath, struggling to inhale. Is there anything this man can't do?

You can feel your orgasm building, warm and persistent in your stomach. Carmy can too.

"Come on, honey," he begs. "Give it to me. I want it. Let me have it."

You're not sure if it's his dulcet tone or the way his fingers curl on every upstroke, but you fall apart, hips keening and back canting. You whine his name and he groans, low and deep.

"There we go," he's muttering. "Good girl. That's it. Atta girl."

When he's satisfied you're satisfied, he stands up and kisses you again, allowing you to taste yourself on his bitten lips.

"No Michelin star dish is ever going to compare to that," he teases against your mouth. You both laugh, giddy off of each other.

"Shut up," you giggle. "Now, are we making waffles, or what?"

[ladylooch]

Listen I know it’s not November but could you write something about reader trying to get Nico to fail No Nut November?

A/N: Challenge accepted, Nico. 😈 This may be my favorite smut I have ever written.

Word Count: 1.0k

Hand on the Bible, you promise the day wasn’t meant to start out this way.

Nico is behind you, fucking you hard as the headboard slams against the wall. You push back against the covered wood, moaning loudly to the ceiling.

“Right there.” You beg him, choking on your moans as he grips your hair, keeping your head tilted back. He loves the way he can see the outline of your features. Your forehead quivers, eyebrows furrowed, nostrils flaring. Your teeth stab at your bottom lip, trying to hold back. “Uhhh.” You finally let lose. Nico pounds harder, thighs clapping against your ass.

“Fuck, you’re going to be so worth it.” He groans. 

But that’s now. Not how this all started.

You were in the kitchen, making yourself a cup of coffee in one of Nico’s t-shirts. The shirt completely covered you just to the edges of your butt cheeks. You walked around like this all the time. You didn’t think anything of it.

Nico came out of the bedroom at the smell of waffles. He shoves his wild hair back from his face, coming to the island where you are pouring more batter into the waffle maker.

“Hi Disney Princess.” You smile up at him, tilting your face for a kiss.

“Good morning.” He croaks, voice coated in sleep. His hand finds your opposite hip with your other side pressing into him. His fingers splay out under his shirt, holding your thigh and fiddling with the waistband of your panties. “Why aren’t you wearing pants?”

“I never do in the morning, unless it’s snowing.” 

“Yeah, but you know what month it is.” You glance at the calendar, seeing today’s date as November 6th. No Nut November can kick rocks in your book.

“Why are you participating in this?”

“Dougie brought it up as a team thing.”

“Easy for him to say, he doesn’t have a girlfriend.” 

“I think his justification is that makes it harder… no pun intended.” He chuckles. 

“You have waiting puss in your bed every night and his bed is empty… and he thinks that is harder for him?” Nico snorts at the word puss. 

“Babe.” He taps your ass at the filth. “Make it easier on me.”

“No. I don’t want you to participate in this!” You laugh, checking the waffle. It needs another minute. “This is a sad month for me. I may slip into a dickless depression.”

“It’s for a good cause.”

“You say that, but are you actually putting money to it?”

“Yeah, the whole team is. Losers have to pay more.” 

“So, if we have sex you’re going to admit that to the team by contributing more to the pot.”

“I am a man of honor, baby.” He nods, picking up your cup of coffee and taking a sip. “And I wanna brag about you too.” He hides his snicker in the cup. You narrow your gaze at him. 

“You better not be talking about that.” You insist, opening the waffle maker again. “That’s between me and you.”

“I did tell Woody your mouth is like a vacuum cause it sucks my soul out.” He covers his face with his hand. “I was so drunk in Vegas last month.” 

“You shit!” You laugh hard, using a fork to take out the waffle. Honestly tho, you’re proud of that. “What did he say?”

“Marry her.” You toss your head back and laugh harder.

“See I knew I liked him. Confirmed favorite.”

You walk across the kitchen to grab plates for both of you. They are a bit high for you so you have to get on your tip toes.

“Oh my god.” Nico moans behind you. His shirt has pulled up on you, exposing the see through backs of your panties. He admires the perfect curve of your ass before squeezing his eyes shut. 

“What do you think about No Nut November now?”

“What if I don’t… nut?” He questions. 

“You can’t.” You know immediately if he slips into you, he’s not going to be done until he leaves a puddle inside of you. 

“I think I can.” 

“Okay. Let’s go.” You take his shirt off, leaving it on the kitchen floor. Nico follows you fast.

And that is how you got here. 

With his cock buried to the hilt as he fucks you, telling you how worth it this is going to be.

You lay down on your stomach, then wrap your calves around his thick thighs, bucking back into him. Nico’s hand wraps around your stomach as he goes aggressively silent. The sound of your skin clapping together fills the room as you work him over. His hand slides down from your stomach, fingertips rubbing your clit to get you clenching him tighter. Your body curls inwards as he starts to thrust deep into you again, awkward, jerky movements that hint at what he is about to do. 

“Come on, Neeks. Fill me.” You beg him as he leans forward to connect your back with his front.

“You.. fuck. Babe!” He groans as he comes inside of you. You follow him, pushed over the edge by his uninhibited moans as he coats your walls. You clench him deeper with each pulse of your orgasm, milking him for all he is worth. Nico collapses onto your back, staying buried inside of you, balls resting on the back of your thighs. You reach around, running your fingers along his spine in encouragement. 

“Happens to the best men, baby.”

“You said that on purpose.”

“Yeah, I wanted you to fail.”

“You pay my fine then.” 

“No, it’s probably 20 grand or something outrageous you rich people decided.”

“It’s like 5.” Nico kisses along your shoulder. 

“I’ll pay you back in blowies.” 

“Sold!” Nico chuckles, rolling out of and off you to settle on his back on the bed. His hand comes to your ass, giving it a gentle pat, then resting there calmly.

“Let it be know, on the record with the New Jersey Devils locker room, that Nico Hischier made it 6 days into No Nut November.” You high five yourself with a snicker. Nico sighs, eyes closed with a blissed out smile on his face. 

“Worth every fucking penny.” His hand slaps your ass hard, filling the room with the distinct sound of a job well done. 

[cherry-pop-elf]

Breakfast

George Weasley x Reader

Summary: It was finally the weekend, which meant rest for you. Not so much for George, but that wasn’t an issue. He loved his job. Regardless, early mornings can be lonely. Luckily, he always does open the store later in the day. So today, you THREE get to spend time together. You, Georgie, and little Freddy

((Btw yes I’m using ASL instead of BSL. It’s easier to get accurate with research, and it can help teach more people to!))

“WHOOPSIE-!” Certainly a concerning word, in any house hold. Was what made you wake up. You didn’t want to, but oh well. The sacrifices every parent makes. George wasn’t in bed with you anyway. No fun being in bed, with out someone to cuddle.

You would pull yourself out of bed, while steal your husbands sleep robe, and proceed to try and figure out why your son was going Whoopsies. Because if he’s saying that, something’s probably on fire. Or exploded. Or currently trying to climb itself out of a trunk.

“Hey, accidents happen. Don’t worry. Here, I’ll clean it up-“ That sweet voice would comfort, as you entered the kitchen. The smell of breakfast heavy in the air, and the windows open to the early morning noise.

What a sight it was. Seeing your handsome husband. That ginger hair all a mess in the early morning. Plaided pants, with hand me down shirt that was somehow surviving from either spite or love. (You bet it’s a mixture of both, with those Weasleys)

Little Freddy himself was in a bright purple pajama set. With the cutest little designs all over it. Just like his uncle, he just adored purple like no other. Like hell you wouldn’t let him enjoy such a color.

Your husband would wave his wand, and repare the broken plate on the ground. Nothing magic couldn’t fix. Seems like the two of them were making breakfast together. George teaching little junior how to cook, and clean. Made your smile, as you leaned on the door frame.

“See? No harm no fowl. You did the right thing, though. The plate was hot, and you let go before it could hurt you.” He would encourage, as to make sure little Freddy knew that everything was alright. Gentle, calm, and soothing. No need for yelling, after all.

“Can you sign Hot-?” He would ask Freddy, as he quickly nodded. His tiny hand would make a claw shape towards him mouth, before turning it away. As if eating an apple, and placing it down.

“That’s right-! Good job-!” George would cheer, as he yanked his son into his arms. Got him to giggle, as he was attacked in kisses. Such a proud father. You swore you might cry. George just adored his son to no end. It reminded you of the many, many, reasons you fell for him.

“Well now, look who’s awake-!” George would smile at you, before your son made grabby hands at you. That was your que, and you happily took it.

You would steal your bouncing baby boy, and pepper him in kisses all the same. A good distraction for George to make the plates for breakfast. Just laughter, and the sizzle of food.

“What has my little trouble maker been doing this morning?” You asked your son, as he gave a big smile. One that echoed the likes of his father. Helped that the ginger curls were over those chubby freckled cheeks.

“Daddy and I made breakfasts together! And he’s teaching me how to sign stuff that means breakfast!” Freddy would giggle, as you gave a wide eyed expression of curiosity. A means to encourage such behavior.

“He’s gotten so good at it. He’s gonna be better the me even. And I’m the deaf guy-!” George would snort, as you rolled your eyes at him.

Did have a point though. Being raised to learn sign language is alot different than having to learn it later in life. Luckily, though, George is far smarter than people give him credit for. Just look at the empire he made. Even with Fred’s help, it’s no easy task.

“We made waffles, and pancakes, and and-“ Freddy would babble on, and you listened to each little word. Cherishing it all, as you helped him sit at the table. Making sure he was secure in his seat, before sitting next to him. With George on the other side of him. Your shared bundle of joy, between his parents.

“You did a good job. It all looks so yummy.” You praised, as you gave his chubby cheek a kiss. Had him giggle, before he grabbed his sippy cup. Happy to enjoy some morning juice, as you reached behind your little boy.

“Just perfect.” You almost whispered, as you held George’s hand. The grip was returned, as he stole your fingers to his lips. Kissing them over, and making you blush all over. As if just an early year again, and admiring his skills on the quidditch team.

“Terrible.” You tease, as he gave an eyebrow wiggle at your manners. Had you snort, before he was quick to lean himself over. Had to make sure his partner got a kiss too. A kiss you oh so happily returned. All to the ‘gross’ babble of your son.

That soon had you both pamper his face in kisses, as he squealed at such an attack. Flailing little fingers, as you made sure he was adored in all the love you two could muster. That was quite alot, mind you.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” You asked, as George gave a groan. Had you giggle that he never truly gave up all his childish habits. As if you would want that. You needed to smile, after all.

“Work, work, and more work. Love the job, I do. Wouldn’t trade it for anything, but I wish I could just close the doors for one day…..I mean, I can do exactly that. I’m the boss here. Hm…..Maybe I should do that. ‘Closed for a family picnic’ and all that. Yeah, yeah I should do that-“ He spoke out loud, as he enjoyed his waffle.

“We can see uncle Fred!” Freddy would shout, as you would wipe the syrup off his face. Messy eater he was, but you savored it. Just was nostalgic, after all. A messy eater like when his father was young.

“The cemetery normally has, like, no people this day in the week. That could work, honestly. Just a private little family get together like that.” George nodded, as he showed he liked the idea. Made junior grin, with such pride.

“Sounds like a plan then. A nice picnic to see uncle Fred, and just a day to spend with us three. I love it. Good job.” You would add to George, as Junior was just all smiles. So much like said uncle, but certainly George all the same.

With the plans all set, the three of you enjoyed the breakfast between you all. With plenty of George teasing his boy. With silly faces, and stories of his youth. Was just divine to watch. To see him so happy again.

“All done-!” Freddy would suddenly shout. Was followed by placing both his hands to his chest, before bringing them back to the table. Multiple times, as to practice what the sign meant. Warmed your heart. Smart like his daddy.

“Good job, Freddy. Now, what do we say next?” George would ask, as Freddy had to think. With his little brows furrowed, as he huffed. Trying his best to remember what to sign next.

“We clean….” He muttered, as he gave sign language babble to himself. Trying hard to figure it out, as you both waited. With no rush. No yelling. No pressure. Just waiting, and letting him breathe.

“Clean….” He muttered, as would place his right hand on his left hand. Then he made a swiping motion, as if trying to wipe something off his hands. It wasn’t quite as smooth as it should be, but he still remembered it regardless.

“Got that right. We clean up. Well, try to.” George would give that awkward smile, as you gave him a knowing look. No yelling, like Molly would. George had a bad habit with his messes, but no one is perfect. He had quirks to make up for it. Much like yourself held your own bad, and good, habits the same. The goal was to try and prevent such to junior. The best you could, anyway.

“Yeah-! Clean up!” Freddy nodded, as he would stumble out of his chair. Adorable little waddle was made to the sink, only to realize he was to short. Made him frustrated, as he gave an angry little stomp. As if that would somehow make him grow.

“I’ll never get tired of that.” You sighed, as George nodded. The both of you enjoying the sight of little Freddy trying to figure out how to reach the sink. Just enjoying the moment, while you could.

“I’ll help him. You go out the sign up.” You said, as you stood up. He was quick to do that same, before stealing you into his arms. Just to hold you a moment, and savor it. Savor the bliss of the morning. With his head resting against yours. No words were needed, as you cupped his face. Tracing the scars, and admiring him in his entirely.

“Love you to, you big trouble maker.”

[stargazer-sims]

The Adventure Continues...

Caroline: All right, I'm off to shower before people start showing up for work! Have I ever mentioned how cool it is that you have actual showers in your office, Yuri? But, I guess that's the bonus of having an old house converted into an office, right? Oh... before I forget to mention it, if we're taking a vote on where to have breakfast, I vote for the Pancake Palace.

Yuri: She's in a good mood.

Victor: And what about you? Obviously, you survived the night. Are you in a good mood?

Yuri: I've had worse nights, and I've been in worse moods.

Victor: We'll call that a win. Does the Pancake Palace sound good to you?

Yuri: As long as I can have the waffles with fresh strawberries and cream.

Victor: You got it. We've gotta start cooking for ourselves, though. After work today, I'll get the grill and some of our pots and stuff out of the storage locker, and we can set up a little outdoor kitchen in the back lot, okay?

Yuri: That sounds better than a steady diet of takeaway food.

Victor: We've got the mini fridge, coffee maker and microwave in here, so we should be good, but I don't know why we didn't think of the grill yesterday.

Yuri: It's fine. The pizza was good. Not as good as your homemade ones, but I couldn't find any reason to complain.

Victor: That's progress. I remember a time when you would've complained nonstop about this whole situation.

Yuri: Clearly, I've matured.

Victor: Well, I think you deserve a reward for that.

Yuri: Ooh... what kind of reward?

Victor: I'll think of something good. It'll be a surprise.

[mangoisms]

i'll be the dangerous ledge (you be the parachute)

━ chapter nine: what if we could risk everything we have | read chapter eight

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ word count: 4.2k

━ warnings: none

━ masterlist

The next morning, you find Tim in your kitchen.

You emerge from the bathroom, having already guessed he was here by the smell of food cooking and from the sound of your TV playing the morning news. Well, late morning news. 

Things settled around the city eventually in the wake of the news about Red Robin. Well, as settled as they can be here in Gotham. But you don’t suspect the Bats are spread too thin. They have, like, a team working here. Batman and Robin, of course, then Black Bat and Signal and Spoiler who doesn’t wear the bat emblem, exactly, but is seen with them frequently enough to be associated with them. This is on top of the few others who also work in the city, like Huntress. So, it’s not like there’s a shortage of vigilantes to go around. 

But the news on the TV is talking about the weather for today, not that. 

“Keep your sunscreen on standby as we have yet another sunny day here in Gotham, with partly-cloudy skies and highs in the eighties. We can expect higher temperatures throughout the week as a heat wave from the south hits us —”

You stop by the boys’ tank, privately pleased to see them having just finished their breakfast, no doubt courtesy of your unexpected guest. 

You glance away from them, to the kitchen, where Tim is currently making eggs, with something else on the counter next to him. Wait, is that a…

“I’m not complaining but… where on earth did that waffle maker come from?”

Tim turns, appearing not at all surprised by your appearance — he’s never spooked, not once, but he does it to you frequently — and shoots you a smile. “Hey, good morning.”

“Morning,” you say, drifting closer to him. You’re both dressed down, with him in sweats and a white t-shirt, and you would bet a decent amount of money that he rolled out of bed, half-heartedly fixed his hair, brushed his teeth, and came down here immediately. You did the same, still in your pajamas, which are a pair of old shorts and a ratty softball shirt from high school. 

It’s not the first time he’s done this but like always, it is terribly domestic and not at all good for your heart.

“So… the waffle maker?” you ask, trying to sneak a piece of buttered toast. 

He gently bats your hand away, looking back at the pan, where eggs sizzle. “You said you like the efficiency of waffles.”

You blink. 

That’s… a lot to unpack.

First of all, when did you say that? 

You pause, searching your memory.

Your prolonged silence clues Tim into your confusion. He flips the egg. 

“When we were at Waffle House in April and the cook and waitress got into a fight.”

“Oh! And the waitress —”

“Stopped the chair thrown at her single-handedly,” he finishes.

“Right, right…” You did say something to that effect after your food had arrived. And it remains true. But of course, waffles are only efficient if you have a waffle maker and —

“Tim, you didn’t get this for me, right?”

“I just thought waffles would be fun,” he says, vague, specifically a non-answer. 

You scrutinize his side profile. Something about him right now… With a spatula in his left hand, his right hand drumming on his thigh. It’s not like him to give up a nervous tell so easily. Not like him at all. 

Your curiosity is unbidden and difficult to suppress, but you decide to step back anyway and let him come to you in his own time. He’ll have to, if the waffle maker really is for you. 

“Well, you’re not wrong,” you say, brushing a hand over his shoulder. “Now we’ll just have to see if you can beat Waffle House.”

“Probably can’t. My waffles are being made peacefully. Mostly peacefully.”

You laugh and help him finish. Mostly by pulling out the waffle, then pouring batter for the next one, the one for him.

Garnished with homemade whipped cream, the leftover strawberries from yesterday, and maple syrup, with a side of eggs and toast, your breakfast is a hearty one. Or rather, your brunch is, since it’s eleven. 

He’s quiet throughout it, eating his food, but with a distant look in his eyes. You still don’t push. 

“I think you did it,” you say when you finish, leaning back in your chair, belly full, making you want a nap. “You managed to beat Waffle House.”

Tim snorts, pushing around the last bits of his waffle. “High praise.”

“Only for you.”

He looks at you, seeming to come back to himself, face softening at your words and at the warm smile you allow yourself to give him. Not too much but enough, enough to soothe some of his nerves, maybe.

You know it’s worked when he glances down at his plate and sighs. 

Setting down the fork, he stands, crossing over to the living room, leaning down to dig through his bag. 

You sit up, curious, at the sound of paper. 

He unearths a newspaper, coming back over to you hesitantly, with the newspaper held folded in his hands. 

“Tim?”

He opens his mouth, then closes it, grimacing at something. 

With a big sigh, he eventually extends it to you. 

You unfold the paper and can’t help the way your eyes widen as you get an eyeful of the front page.

The front page, with a picture of you and Tim smack dab in the middle, specifically… specifically yesterday in front of the ice cream parlor, the two of you smiling at each other in a way that appears a little less than friendly. So, naturally, the headline is about exactly that. TIM DRAKE AND MYSTERY GIRLFRIEND OUT ON THE TOWN. Written by Vicki Vale. Of course. You expect nothing less. 

You scratch your cheek idly. “Huh.”

“I’m really sorry,” he says, the words seeming to burst out of him as he takes his seat again, face wrought with guilt. “I should’ve known they were there. I was careless. Should’ve had the cap or something, I don’t know, but I… I got cocky about it, since we’d gotten away with hanging out in public. The PR team is handling it, I swear.”

Handling it. Setting the record straight. You are not Tim Drake’s girlfriend. What a laughable concept. Well, you’re sure the elites are laughing. Probably the whole city. 

Your throat tightens uncomfortably and you fold the newspaper and set it down, shaking your head.

Man. What does he have to apologize for? If anything…

“I should apologize,” you chuckle, glancing away from him. “Since you got stuck with me for that. So, don’t worry about it, Timmy. You’re fine.”

Not much about you that is interesting, save for being friends with Tim. Poor Vicki Vale won’t have much to work with, you suspect. Though that will probably be the focus. That you’re just a no-name teacher’s aide, associating with one of the city’s most eligible. 

Whatever. You don’t want to be anyone else. 

That, you know, is true.

But Tim appears upset, bothered, by something, lips tugged in a frown, a deep wrinkle between his brows that you itch to smooth away with your fingers. The way he looks at you… almost like he’s hurt.

You shift forward. Why is he —?

Before you can ask, he is already speaking.

“The waffle maker is yours,” he says. “I don’t need it and if I do, I can come and use it here. I don’t mind. But… you’re wrong.”

Okay. That’s… a lot. The waffle maker doesn’t need to be prioritized, though, you don’t think. So…

“Wrong? What do you —?”

His eyes flicker around the kitchen, thinking quickly, before he huffs and leans around the table to take your chair and drag it closer to his. You let out a squeak at the jostling movement but don’t stop him, confused for the most part about what’s going on. 

“Tim?”

He shakes his head, reaching for you, hands sliding to your cheeks. Your breath catches in your throat, heart lurching in your chest.

“Tim?”

“Stuck with you,” he mutters, disapproval clear in his tone. “With you. That’s… wrong. So wrong it’s not even funny. If anyone is stuck with anyone, it’s me you’re stuck with.”

Wait, is he…

Your heart thuds in your ears, chest ballooning with nervous energy as you struggle to grapple with this conversation. With the way he is looking at you, his expression the softest it has ever been — for you. Directed at you. 

Heat rises to your face, making you dizzy. 

A thumb absently strokes over your cheek as he studies you. “There is no one else I’d rather it be. Even if it’s inconvenient for you, I’m selfish enough to admit that I don’t want anyone else. I just want…”

“Tim,” you whisper, unable to believe your ears.

“You,” he finishes quietly. “It’s you. I’m sorry.”

You both are wrong, then. 

No one is stuck with anyone. 

And you aren’t going to let him think that way, either.

“I’m not,” you say. “So, kiss me already.”

Tim kisses you.

He kisses you hungrily, a shade too desperate for eleven in the morning, in a way that sparks a fire inside you. But not a spark of creation, it’s the kindling of embers that are always burning, singeing through your veins, and you can’t help but kiss him back just as eagerly. It’d only been yesterday you wanted it desperately and now you have it and more.

The truth, reality forced upon you, for you to bear witness to how soft his lips are, the way he holds your face so gently, how he tastes like strawberries and maple syrup and the wish for more, more than that, takes hold of you violently. You press forward, your fingers sliding into his hair, silky-soft, and he lets out a sharp exhale, shivering in a way that makes you feel something dangerous. 

Astounding how you can have this and still want more.

But you’re starting to think you’ll always want more from him. More, more, more. Like you wouldn’t be satisfied until you two were one, cells and atoms intermingling. It’s a lot. A lot. For you and for him, the enormity of all of it, of what you might ask of him. From him. More than he can give, maybe, but if he feels the same as you do, then you know he’ll give you as much as he can, give everything. 

The necessity of air has you two breaking apart, but he just leans his forehead against yours, warm breath tickling your lips with each breath. 

You’re happy to stay there, eyes closed, catching your breath.

After a minute, he leans forward, lips brushing yours again, but softer this time, less hungry, less desperate, something terribly, terribly tender that has your chest exploding with warmth. You almost can’t believe it, that you’re here right now with Tim Drake cradling your face like you’re made of fine china and kissing you so sweetly, so full of honeyed affection, it clogs the arteries of your heart.

But it would be a good way to die, you think.

Especially here in Gotham.

Maybe you should give it some credit, though. 

Tragedy dogs the city constantly but even still, the impossible remains possible and you are all the more grateful for that fact.

You separate again and like before, you just lean your foreheads together, basking in the moment. 

Tim moves first and you suppress a shiver as his lips brush over your cheek.

“I guess we’re both wrong,” he murmurs.

Ah.

Neither of you can say you don’t deserve one another. Even if you feel it, he disagrees. And if he feels it, you disagree, too. And where else should you go with that?

Nowhere good, you think.

You smile. “I guess so.”

“So, then…” he starts, finally pulling away. Your eyes flutter open and your stomach swoops like you missed a step as you see the open affection in his gaze, written all over his face. It makes you feel treasured in a way you can’t quite cope with. Instead you focus on the flush on his cheeks, a tempting rush of blood that makes you want to kiss him again and see how warm the skin feels underneath your lips. 

“Yeah?”

“I know it’s a little backwards,” he goes on, thumb stroking your cheek, the other dropping to the side of your neck. Your hands find themselves on his forearms, muscles and tendons flexing beneath your fingertips. “But I wasn’t anticipating that.”

You nod. “Neither was I.”

Though you should’ve known your luck would run out eventually.

“I guess it doesn’t matter much now, anyway,” he says, then pauses, nervous, bashful energy filling him again. “Unless — I mean, I would like to take you out on an official date but, uh, I get it if that’s maybe too soon to really say —”

“Tim.”

He stops. You smile and it feels horribly honest, full of affection and warmth and with everything else not yet spoken. He softens, but the red in his cheeks darkens again. It pleases you too much.

“If you’re okay with it, then I’m okay with letting the press think we’re together,” you say, squeezing his wrist reassuringly. “Even if I wasn’t certain, it would probably be best to let them keep the rumor, rather than try and say we’re friends. But as it is…” 

As it is, you’ve since realized these feelings aren’t going anywhere and knowing that he reciprocates, that, maybe, he’s felt it for a while, too, it makes you hopeful. This isn’t just something fun to do over the summer, this is you seeing him in your kitchen in the mornings, still in pajamas, and thinking you’d like to always see him like this. This is from a few weeks ago, when you two slept together on the couch and it was the best sleep you’ve ever had and waking up with him still here, still a little sleepy and bleary-eyed, it made you think you wouldn’t mind having this for a really long time. 

For forever, you dare to think. 

“I know,” he says, and you think he really does know. 

He brushes a few strands of hair from your face, touch gentle. 

“So, then, in that case,” he starts, smile warm as he says your name, the syllables that wrap it equally as warm, “will you go out with me?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” you say, then lean forward to kiss him again.

You aren’t going to get tired of doing that anytime soon.

And by the way he kisses you back eagerly, you know he’s thinking the same.

You both agree to have your date on Friday night. 

But until then, neither of you see any point in changing anything. 

You’ll still drop by after school or he’ll come over. You’ll still watch movies together.

Nothing changes. The core of your routines remain the same.

Well, except for the fact that you two can’t really keep your hands off each other and the entire city now knows you two are dating.

Monday morning, you showed up in class at eight as usual, finding Ms. C. She said nothing much about it, other than, You’re lucky it’s the last week of school. Everyone is going to be unbearable.

Not trying to make you feel bad. A simple fact. A warning, even, and it turned out to be true. The amount of teachers and aides that dropped by the class to talk to you — even if you’d never once spoken to them — was ridiculous. 

Most of the kids were giggly about it. A few jokes. A little grossed out. You get that, though. They’re kids. Don’t know any better.

But for your colleagues and the odd parent that manages to corner you? It’s a bit ridiculous the way some of them look down their noses at the thought of you dating him.

Well, Mrs. Hightower who teaches eighth grade science, you’re married and also not in a better position. Like, okay, you… sort of get the icy mothers (and occasional father) who sniff at the thought with their designer clothes and yachts and vacation homes in Monaco; they have money, so they think they are better suited for him. (When that honestly has nothing to do with it, but you’re trying to make a point, so, you know.) But for your fellow aides and teachers? All of you are in the exact same boat. 

The life of a more of less public figure is a tricky one. 

And honestly, Tim isn’t even as famous as he could be. Imagine what it must be like for Bruce. 

Yikes.

Every gossip page in Gotham digs their grubby little fingers into your past. 

Naturally, they don’t get much.

Moved here at eighteen for college. Majored in education and minored in psychology. Graduated with honors (that’s probably the only exciting thing for them). Worked at Gotham Elementary in Burnley, then moved to Gotham Pointe. 

That’s it. 

But when they fail to find dirt, the conversation naturally turns to how you aren’t suited for him, how he should be dating the heiress to a massive company rather than some nobody teacher’s aide. 

You try not to let it bother you.

Tim works hard to assure you that he doesn’t care about that. That he never has and never will. You believe him, but with it shoved into your face at every given moment, you think you’re allowed the occasional moment of insecurity.

On Thursday, though, you’re in high spirits. The kids have let the issue go, focusing on some other thing that’s gotten their attention and today is probably the first day that only a few people try to talk to you about everything, allowing you to focus on doing your job. For the most part.

Tim told you to come by his place after school, that way you two could make dinner and spend the evening together. After showering and changing, you catch the elevator to head to the fifteenth floor. 

The doors slide open. You step out, your eyes on your phone, reading a text from your brother, who, alongside your parents, remain a little flabbergasted that you wound up in a relationship with Tim Drake. Though your brother claims he ‘saw it coming.’ Like hell he did. All he ever did was try and convince you to send him Tim’s debit card info. 

The sound of your name.

You blink and look up, meeting the wide, bright blue eyes of a pretty blonde.

Wait, you’ve seen her face before —

“Steph — I mean, um, Stephanie Brown, right?”

One of Tim’s good friends and an old ex-girlfriend. He said they dated when they were teens but broke up and are still good friends. 

She grins, stepping back out of the elevator, apparently having been waiting to take it back down. 

“In the flesh. I’m a little surprised you recognize me but it’s great to finally meet Tim’s mystery girlfriend.” The last part is a tease from the newspaper from last weekend.

You laugh. “Tim has pictures of you and the others around his place. That’s how I knew. And it’s nice to meet you, too.” 

“I was popping in to see about it,” she tells you, not minding the elevator doors that slide shut once more. “Wondering when he’d finally bring you around. He doesn’t like to share.”

You grin, cheeks warming. Her energy is infectious. You can see what might’ve drawn him to her. “It’s my last week of school and we have our date tomorrow. So, probably after the first date. The whole press reveal thing kinda threw a wrench in our plans.”

She grins back. “Well, the way he tells it, that was the thing that kicked your butts into gear, so I guess that’s how it has to go.”

“That… Yeah, that is true,” you say with an embarrassed laugh.

“Aw, it’s okay. It would’ve happened eventually. Tim’s just the type to really, uh, collect evidence and draw up conclusions before he likes to do anything.”

You laugh, because he is like that. 

“Either way,” she says, smiling. “At least you got me out of the way. Meeting all of us can be… a lot.”

“So I’ve heard.”

She snickers. “Guess we’ll see you sometime soon. Maybe around his birthday. Bruce’ll want to have dinner or something with him at the manor and I can join them just so you have another familiar face.”

“That would be great. Really. I appreciate it.”

“You really are as kind as he says,” she says, pouting a little. “Now I’m jealous.”

You laugh, flushing at the compliment — both at what he apparently told her and the fact that she agrees with it so much to the point that she’s jealous. Even if it’s just a tease. But honestly, the way her blue eyes twinkle, you don’t think it is. 

“I’ll leave you to it,” she says, hiking her bag higher over her shoulder. “This homework is calling me to kick its ass.”

Right. Tim told you she was in the grad program for social work at GU. She must be taking summer classes. 

“Good luck.”

“Thanks. You kids don’t do anything crazy, alright?” she says, pointing mock sternly at you as she presses the button for the elevator again. 

You snort. “We’ll do our best.”

She gives you a melodramatic thumbs-up of approval, then steps into the elevator when the doors open. 

The smile on your lips is hard to budge. Steph’s a whole lot of fun, isn’t she? And meeting her now did help some of those budding nerves that rear their head every time you think of the prospect of meeting his family.

But like she said. That might not be until July. Mid to late July, really, since his birthday is on the nineteenth. Speaking of, you need to get back to the rec center to continue working on his gift… Maybe you can do that sometime next week…

Coming up to his door a second later, you unlock it and step inside. 

“Honey, I’m home!” you call out in a sing-song tone, slipping off your slides and locking the door behind you. 

Tim steps out from the kitchen, an expectant look on his face. “You saw Steph on your way here, didn’t you?”

You grin. “Sure did! She’s fun.”

“I wasn’t expecting her today. She wanted to ambush me about you, I think.”

“See when you’ll bring me around? Yeah, she said the same to me.”

He rolls his eyes, exasperated but still fond. “We haven’t even had our first official date. Honestly. They’re all a bunch of gossips, you know? I’m surprised it was just her that ended up coming. I was expecting Cass and Duke, too. Maybe even Alfred. Though he’d come with a much better excuse than ‘I was just on this side of town.’”

You laugh and he shakes his head, extending a hand that you take, not resisting as he ropes you into his embrace. 

“In any case,” he starts, pressing a kiss to your cheek before you sink into the circle of his arms, “how was your day?”

“S’okay. The kids were good.”

“And the teachers?”

You grin into the collar of his t-shirt. “Mostly behaved. They’ve finally grasped some semblance of self-restraint, so, wasn’t too bad.”

He hums, one hand stroking up your back, the other at your hip. You’ve always known Tim was particularly tactile but since everything between you, it’s been turned up a notch. Not that you are complaining. You’re less touch-starved these days, just because of him, but you’ll hardly say no to more of it. 

“How was yours?”

Another hum as he presses his face to your hair. 

“Fine. Lucius asked me to help with some IT stuff and I did that today. Easy work. Cleaned a bit. I sterilized those shells I got for the boys, by the way, and put them in the tank. Don’t know if you saw. Then I saw Steph, as you know. Just started dinner right now.”

“Look at you. All the best qualities of a housewife.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it, honey.”

You giggle, though your face warms at the endearment, and he can tell by being so close to you, chuckling softly as he leans down to finally kiss you. 

You press closer, sliding your arms around his neck while his lock around your waist. The full press of his lean body against yours makes your head spin. Stupid Tim and his stupid muscles…

You’re posturing, of course.

You’re… happy. Glowing with it, according to one of the kinder parents who ran into you at school. You believe it, mostly because some part of you doesn’t believe this is actually happening. That Tim kissed you breathless on Sunday and told you he wanted you. The other part of you basks in the thought, in the realization, in the fact that you get to come home to this. 

You’re so, so lucky. 

Nothing can beat it.

Absolutely nothing.  

━ end notes

1. dc editorial’s worst decision was having steph start wearing the bat symbol. leave her OUT OF IT! let spoiler stand on her own! it’s not like bruce ever approved of her.. or tim for that matter… they did her so dirty… ANYWAY

2. all waffle houses are conduits of gotham energy. thats why they’re Like That. food’s absolutely SCRUMPTIOUS tho

3. pleased to report it is canon that tim uses pet names. that tim is, in general, pretty soft with his s/os. here’s a soft moment with him and steph from robin (1993): page 1 / page 2 (read them consecutively in that order!). then another one with tim being very sweet... and finally, the page where he calls her ‘sweetie’ (and she calls him that too!).

in general, i am not too fond of sweetie as a pet name. however, i am very much appreciative of honey. it has a good balance of domesticity and affection, you know? i wouldn’t be adverse to sweetheart either. or baby. so ;)

4. on that note i continue to push my housewife/houseboyfriend(husband?) tim agenda. thank you.

anyway... about time wasn't it ;)))) we have a little ways to go before the end but i promise it's nothing too extreme. i never really wanted to make their confession a Massive Angsty thing. i mean there is stuff to deal with, particularly what tim said and reader slightly misinterpreting it (because he is apologizing for it being him but also because of what he does that she still does not know about). and no worries, we will deal with that. but ultimately, it won't be made into a Big Thing. this fic isn't really centered around that - i want it to be comforting, you know? but we still have to handle the hangups that come with being a civilian and dating a vigilante LOL

reblogs are appreciated!

[makethatelevenrings]

Angel By the Wing - Seventeen

Chapter Warnings: discussion of abortion (if ur not pro choice idc lmao fuck off!!), pregnancy

Series Masterlist

To your credit, you waited until the sun came up before you pulled yourself out of the catatonic state you found yourself in after the revelation of your predicament. You had never actually taken a shower the night before so you took the time now to stand under the hot water and let the stench of the bar wash off your skin.

Robotically, you dried yourself off with a towel that smelled of Jake and fucking hell, were you crying? Grabbing Bradley’s old UVA shirt, you tugged it over your head and threw on some clean underwear and soft athletic shorts. Turning in the mirror, you lifted the hem of the shirt and studied your stomach. Were you really pregnant? Or was this just some bloating? There wasn’t a bump, but you certainly noticed a small change.

As you shoveled Cheerios into your mouth, you pointedly ignored the waffle maker seated on the counter. This was pathetic. You needed to get a level head and compartmentalize. Make a to-do list. Figure out what the hell you needed to do. Didn’t you need to get your implant removed? Oh god, what if you were already fucking up your baby and you didn’t even know how old they were. You thought back on the numerous times you had slept with Jake and Bradley over the past month. Fuck, you didn’t even know the father.

You needed help. For once, you were going to concede defeat and admit that you didn’t know what the fuck to do. Sofia was out. She had less of an idea about babies than you did. Sarah…you couldn’t bother her right now. Not when she was dealing with grief.

But you did know a kick ass mother who would already be awake thanks to growing up in a military household.

Grabbing your phone, you dashed off a quick text to Penny and then put your bowl in the sink with the intention of cleaning it later. Your phone buzzed with an incoming text and you sighed in relief at her invite to come over.

Which found you fifteen minutes later, standing on her front porch, and blubbering like a baby the second she pushed open her screen door.

“Did you get a call?” she asked, panic tinging her voice.

“No, no.” You knew who she was referencing. “No news from them. I…”

Her eyes darted down, spying the way your hand unconsciously rested on your lower stomach, and she gasped. Penny stepped back, hands grasping your shoulders, and she took you in.

“Oh, honey,” Penny cooed. “Come on, you need to sit down.”

She led you to the back porch that faced the waves and you appreciated the opportunity to take in the morning sun and fresh air. Penny reappeared with a mug of coffee for her and peppermint tea for you and you gratefully accepted the ceramic mug that was shaped like a cat.

“Amelia’s still asleep. Teenagers. She’ll be dead to the world until ten,” Penny chuckled. “How do you feel?”

That wasn’t the question you were expecting, honestly. You were waiting for a “what were you thinking” or “how can you be so stupid” or maybe even a “let’s talk about your severance”. Not this. Not genuine concern.

“Physically or mentally?” you croaked out. The peppermint tea helped soothe the roiling ball of nerves and nausea that was consuming your stomach and you clasped the mug in your hands, embracing the warmth through your skin.

“Let’s start with physically.”

You blew out a heavy breath and then chuckled humorlessly. “Like I’m going to yak any second.”

Penny nodded, her eyes crinkling at the edges as she smiled at your words. “Yeah, morning sickness is a bitch.”

“And I’m tired all of the time. I thought I was just bloated, but I guess not. Holy shit, Pen, I’m so scared.”

Her hand landed on your knee and she offered you a gentle squeeze as a physical display that you weren’t alone. You gazed out at the pink sky and inhaled deeply before continuing to speak.

“I never thought about having kids. Or, at least, I thought about what I would do. There’s a Planned Parenthood within an hours drive from here. It would be quick, right? And then it would all be over. I don’t have the money to support a kid and I couldn’t possibly work at the bar and breastfeed. I would be a terrible mother and just fuck the kid up. I can’t…”

“Listen, I’m not telling you that you can’t get an abortion. Hell, I would be the one driving you there and back. You always have the choice to make that decision for you and your body. But I want you to know that you would be a damn good mom, honey. I’ve seen the way you interact with Amelia and Sarah has mentioned how much the grandkids love you.” Penny reached out and poked your shoulder. “You are not your mother, kid. Don’t let her scare you from giving a life to some kid who would be so fucking lucky to have you as a mom.”

You sniffled and blinked back more tears. “I don’t even know who the father is or if they’re even coming home.”

Penny reached up to wipe some of your tears away and she smiled sadly. “Hangman or Rooster, right? The two of them can barely take their eyes off you. You have them wrapped around your finger.”

“I didn’t plan on it!” The outcry sounded hilarious coming from your thick, tear-filled voice. “They’re just so…ugh!”

“Naval aviators,” Penny hummed. “I told you they’re trouble.”

You groaned and placed your mug down so you could cover your face with your hands. Penny chuckled and raised her own cup to her lips. Once you lowered your hands and stared back at the ocean did you continue to speak.

“I just want them home.” You hated how small your voice was. “I don’t understand why I feel this way. It’s all too much, too fast.”

“Is it? Or are you just scared of feeling safe?”

You blinked in surprise and stared at her. She merely sipped her coffee and leaned back in her chair. You considered her words for the moment. Jake was supposed to be just a way to get some energy out, but now you found yourself craving his presence as more than just a sex buddy. Bradley had been a one time thing and then his charming smile and laughter kept you wanting to be near him more. But that wasn’t love. Or at least, you figured it wasn’t love in comparison to the cheesy romance films and books you’ve consumed.

But thinking about them and the possibility of them not coming home and then thinking about the possibility that you might be holding a piece of one of them inside of you made you come to a tentative decision for now.

“I should call my doctor and ask if I can make an appointment to get my implant removed,” you finally said. “And then I’m going to wait until they get back. Not because I want them to choose because that’s my choice, but because I want them to know.”

“Okay. Call them and stay for the day. We can go to the beach or go shopping. Whatever you choose, hon, Amelia and I are here for you no matter what.”

The doctor had an opening at one so you spent the morning watching reality shows with Penny until Amelia woke up and then the three of you headed over to the area where your OBGYN was located. Penny and Amelia would stick around and shop at a few local boutiques while you got your implant removed and also did a blood test and urine sample to confirm.

When you walked out of the office an hour later with a stack of papers and pamphlets in hand and a compression bandage wrapped around your bicep, there was no denying it. You were four weeks pregnant.

“Holy shit!” Amelia exclaimed when you held up the paper to her and Penny. Her mom didn’t even bother to correct her and instead took the results from you and studied them. She nodded and jerked her head in the direction of the car.

“Well, time to get you some vitamins and a few other things that will help.”

The Benjamin women offered to let you sleep over that night, but you missed the soft pillows and smell of Jake in his apartment. For a moment, you regretted wearing Bradley’s shirt out today but it also felt a bit like a protective barrier between you and the world. Even without a noticeable bump, you still felt as if everyone in the world could tell just by one look at you.

So you curled up on the couch at Jake’s with all the pamphlets about your options now and plans for the future. The TV played in a low drone as you thumbed through the various piles of information like prenatal vitamins, what you can and can’t eat, and the changes your body would go through. As you read more, you became more and more uncertain. Could you do this? Should you do this?

You glanced up at the TV and a small smile fluttered across your lips at the sight of what was playing on screen. Titanic. You remembered the night on the couch, sandwiched between your boys as this movie played. The love story turned heartbreak stung at your chest and you found yourself reaching for the remote when your phone rang. Diverting your grasp, you saw it was an unknown number but decided to answer, figuring it might be a telemarketer you could fuck with.

“Angel?” the voice on the other line asked. Your breath caught in your lungs and you nearly burst into a sob right then and there.

“Tex?” What if this was just some cruel prank?

“Yeah, darlin’, it’s me. I’m just calling to let you know that we’re okay.”

You bit your lip and released a shaky breath. “All of you?”

Jake laughed over the line. “Here, let me prove it.” Shuffling came over the line and then a new voice spoke.

“Hey, angel,” Bradley exhaled your nickname as if he was evoking a prayer. A brilliant smile spread across your face and you relaxed against the cushions.

“Hi, bear. You sound tired.”

“Yeah, well, Hangman snores.” An indignant cry sounded from behind Bradley and you laughed. They were fine. They were safe.

“You’re all okay?”

“Every last one of us. We’re coming home, angel. I can’t tell you exactly when but we’ll be back soon.”

You glanced at the scattered pages of information spread around you and then settled your hand on your stomach. “I’m holding you to that.”

“Of course, Angel. We’ll see you soon.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

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[engie-ivy]

(@wolfstarmicrofic Wolfstar loosely based on the movie Stardust)

10th: Myth

843 words

He Who Possesses the Heart of a Star

Remus barely manages to find a table to have his morning tea and read his paper. The fact that the cafés, bars and restaurants are all overflowing with people definitely proves that tourist season is well on its way, and every year, their picturesque small town seems to attract more visitors.

Remus is sitting outside on a terrace overlooking the town square. He would’ve preferred a bit more shadow, but as he’s lucky to have found a place at all, he really can’t complain. At the table next to him, a mother with two young children is seated, the family definitely being tourists. The mother is flipping through the menu, while the boy, probably around twelve years old, is reading from a travel guide to his little sister.

“They say that over three hundred years ago, a star fell from the sky and landed right in this very town,” the boy says. “The crater can actually still be seen at the west side. And it was not just any star! It was Sirius, before that fateful moment the brightest star in the sky.” He looks over the book towards his little sister, who’s looking at him with big eyes, and he continues in a low, ominous voice. “As it is said that possessing the heart of a star can grand you eternal life, this town was soon overflowing with power-hungry knights, savvy traders, opportunistic adventurers, hopeful thieves, ambitious warlocks and, most of all, ugly witches longing to have their youth and beauty back,” he reads. “All wanting to rip out the heart of the star and live forever!”

His little sister shrieks, and their mother gives the boy a stern look.

“But alas, the star was never found,” the boy quickly finishes.

“Because it is only a myth,” their mother says soothingly to the little girl, before turning to the boy. “So stop scaring your sister with silly stories!”

“But the crater is really here, though!” The boy says. “Can we go see, mum? Please?”

Remus puts his empty mug down and fishes some coins out of his pocket that he drops on the table, before standing up to make his way home.

Walking westwards, Remus passes the tour guides showing groups around town and the groups of tourists taking pictures of the old town house. He walks past the shop at the corner, where there used to be a weaver for three generations long, until it was turned into a tailor, even a candle maker for some time, and then into a grocery for a few decades. Now, it is a flashy shop where they sell Oreo waffles with Nutella topping or something like that.

As Remus comes home, his husband is lying on the couch scrolling through his smartphone.

“Those things are really going to be the downfall of society,” Remus scoffs.

His husband looks up with a raised eyebrow. “You said the same thing when they invented the TV, and who needs to watch his favourite shows now every night?”

Remus glares at him, and his husband sighs and puts his phone away. “Okay, what has gotten you in such a mood?”

“This town is becoming more of a tourist trap with each passing year. Nothing is like the good old days anymore,” Remus grumbles.

His husband rolls his eyes. “Okay, grandpa.”

“Oi! I look much younger than I am,” Remus protests as he sits down on the couch next to his husband.

“Oh, I don’t deny that,” his husband chuckles as he lies down with his head in Remus’ lap. “But on the inside, you’re just a grumpy old man.”

Remus almost automatically starts carding his fingers through his husband’s hair, who closes his extraordinary silver eyes, and here, in the safety and comfort of their own home, starts softly glowing.

“I guess the tourists do make the place more lively,” Remus admits.

His husband hums contently. “And they are a whole lot better than those starhunters who used to come here.”

“Did you know they still tell that story?” Remus asks. “It’s actually in the travel guides.”

His husband opens his eyes. “Really?”

“Oh yeah,” Remus grins. “All about how people came from all over the world searching for Sirius, the brightest star that had fallen from the sky, lured by the promise of eternal life.”

“Well, as obnoxious as they were, I suppose I can’t blame them,” his husband says. “I mean, it is quite something, isn’t it?” He takes Remus’ hand and places it over his heart, covering it with his own. “To live forever because you completely possess the heart of the brightest star?”

Remus regards his husband with a well-known surge of affection and a strong and familiar feeling of love, regards the man who crashed into his life all those years ago and has made his every day brighter since, literally and figuratively. “Yes,” he replies. “It is quite something indeed.”

No man can live forever, except he who possesses the heart of a star, and Sirius had given his to Remus completely.

[snoopyearss]

Here. Eren x Fem. Reader

@erenjaegerwifee

Chapter 2: Sheena Mall

Your POV

I woke up from the couch, unable to move. I turned to my left to see Sasha sound asleep, laying on my legs while Hitch was to my right, her head on the couch arm rest, snoring softly. We watched about 3 movies after we came home from the restaurant. I assumed we were all just too tired to go to our rooms.

I peeled Sasha off my legs, and gently placed her head back down. I got up and went to the kitchen. I decided I would make us some breakfast so I grabbed the pancake mix, and some eggs. I was feeling for waffles today, so I pulled out the waffle maker from the top shelf.

I had already made at least 4 waffles, but I guess the smell woke Sasha out of her sleep because she jumped up and rushed to the kitchen.

“Good morning!” She sang and stretched.

“Good morning! I made your favorite.” I gave her a plate.

“Thank you! Man, I’m eating good today. I got my bestie making me waffles, and then later I got the extra food I ordered from Marley’s last night.” She licked her lips.

“Can we talk about that for a second? That food was amazing” Hitch spoke up and walked to the kitchen. I nodded in response.

“Whoever made my meal needs their ass ate.” Sasha said. “Shit, I’ll do it.”

“Oh I know you would, Sash.” I joked.

After all the waffles were made, we sat down at the table to eat. “So what’s the game plan for today? We still going to the mall?” Hitch asked. “Yeah of course! We all gotta get outfits for the party next week!” Sasha said.

“Oh we’re still talking about that?” I sarcastically said. “Yes we are. And you’re STILL coming. No backing outta this one girlfriend.” Sasha asserted and I groaned.

“I only said yes so you two can shut up about it.” I chuckled. “You know how we are. Should I call the other girls? See if they’d wanna come with?” Hitch said, Sasha nodded. The other girls?

“A few of our other friends. Don’t worry, they’re all super nice.” Sasha explained to me, seeing my confused face. “All of them?” Hitch said with uncertainty in her voice. “..Ok well. All of them except one.” I raised an eyebrow. “You’ll know when you meet her today.” Oh great.

We all finished our breakfast and got ready to go to the mall.

 “They said they’ll meet us there. Let’s get going.” Sasha grabbed her car keys and we left.

The drive there wasn’t too bad, except for the occasional road rage from Sasha, flipping other drivers off and cussing here and there, causing Hitch and I to laugh. 

“Learn how to fucking drive stupid! Oh we’re here!” It was kinda scary to see her switch tones so easily.

We got outta the car after she parked and headed inside. “Oh I see them! Hey guys! Over here!” Hitch waved at the group of girls in front of the sephora. We all walked up to them.

“Hii! Haven’t seen you guys since the beach trip last week! I’m so excited for this party.” The short blonde girl went to give the two a hug. Soon everyone else followed.

Once again. Awkward.

When she pulled away, she turned to me, looking at me up and down. “Who’s this?” 

“This is our new friend, Y/n. She’s new around here so be nice everyone please.” Sasha ordered. “Yeah, and this is her first house party so we gotta find something stunning for her to wear.” Hitch added. 

“Oh nice! I’m Historia. You know, the mayor’s daughter?” The blonde flipped some hair off her shoulder and smiled. Yeah I can already tell you’re gonna be a problem. I awkwardly nodded. She narrowed her eyes towards me then shrugged it off. 

“Anyways, this is Ymir, Annie, and Mikasa.” I smiled and waved ‘hello’ to them. They did the same. 

“I love your shoes. Are they Doc Martins?” The girl with the jet black hair asked. Mikasa? Was it? She’s gorgeous. 

“Thank you! Yeah, they are.” I smiled at her. I love her style. “I can send you the link if you want.” “I would love that. Thank you.” We both exchanged numbers.

“Why don’t we all exchange numbers? We can have one big groupchat!” Sasha said. So we did.

“Ok, lets go shopping alreadyy!” Historia whined and grabbed Ymirs hand. We all followed her into the store.

“They have a little bit of everything at this store. One section for every style.” Historia explained to me. I nodded.

“Let’s go to this side. Last time I was here, I saw the hottest pair of demonia boots and I wanna know if they’re still there.” Mikasa took my hand and led me to the back of the store.

“Hmm. Which dress do you think Eren would notice me in?” Historia asked Ymir. “You’re still obsessed with him? Give it a rest girl. You can do so much better!” Ymir scoffed. “Shut up, I know he still has some feelings for me. You’re no help. Annie!” She called to the other blonde.

“Which dress?” Historia held up two dresses to show to her. “The white one. Makes your ass pop.” She bluntly said. “I love you. Ok, I’m gonna find some jewelry and shoes!” She scurried off.

“What are we gonna do with her?” Annie sighed. Ymir shrugged. “She’s completely whipped. It hurts to see.”

“Super obsessed. But you know who else is obsessed?” Annie smirked, making Ymir blush a bit. “When do you plan to tell her?” The blonde asked. “Well I can’t now. Not when she’s this crazy for Yeager. I’ll figure it out.” Ymir sighed and looked for some tops.

“She’s not gonna give up anytime soon and we can’t force her to. We just gotta wait till she opens her eyes.” Sasha looked over to see Historia humming to herself, looking at shoes that would match with her dress.

“Y/n, what’s your style?” Mikasa asked me as she tried on a pair of demonia boots. “Oh, um I’m not sure, just a little bit of everything.” I answered and she nodded. “Try this on.” She gave me a dress to wear. 

I walked to the fitting rooms and as I walked in, I saw Historia looking at herself in one of the big mirrors. 

“Wow,” I started. “You’re definitely gonna get heads turning as soon as you walk in.” I complimented her.

“Thanks!” She smiled then sighed. “Hopefully Eren’s.” I raised my eyebrows and quickly let them drop. She saw my reaction and started to ramble. “Do you know him? I don’t think you do. Incase nobody’s told you, we’re kind of like a thing. Ya know?” I tilted my head. Is she trying to prevent me from making any kind of move on him? “I mean I’ve heard OF him. Just never met him. Probably will at the party since he’s the one throwing it I presume?” 

“Yeah. He throws the BEST parties. That’s how we met. Obviously. We both took an interest in each other and yeah it just kinda happened.” Why is she telling me this?

“Cool.” I nodded. “Cute dress. I could NEVER pull off something like that.” She giggled. Ok, she was definitely trying to be shady. 

“Thanks! Not everyone can pull off every look and make it look good. Clearly you aren’t one of those people?” I pouted and walked off, leaving her speechless. 

I could almost feel her staring at me as I walked away. Like she was shooting daggers into my back. I just here and I already have someone I dislike. Great.

I walked towards Mikasa to show her what she suggested I try on. “You look GOOD.” She complimented me. “You think so?” She nodded. “It fits your figure so perfectly. You dating anyone right now?” She joked. “No but now I am.” I said, causing her to chuckle.

“What are you gonna wear?” I asked her. “This.” She held up a pair of black leather pants and a crossed over top to match. “Oh yeah I know you’re gonna look hot.” It made her blush. “Thanks. Let’s go get some accessories and then go pay.” I nodded.

₊˚✩彡.

After we all got our outfits, we went to the food court since somebody (Sasha) was feeling hungry. We all got our food and sat at a table. “I’m so excited man. After this you guys wanna go to sephora?” Hitch asked. 

“Hey what’s so exciting about this party anyways? It’s just a party.” I shrugged. They all turned to me. “What?”

“These parties are literally legendary.”  Annie said. “Ok, well what makes it so legendary then?”

“Each year, there’s a new surprise at the end. Last year, Eren was able to rent a yacht for the after party.” After party? 

“We partied until 7am. We were all drunk and we went to class hungover the next day.” Ymir chuckled. 

“Wow, sounds crazy.”

“Not as crazy as the time he got Saweetie to perform that one time. You guys remember that?” Historia said. “Oh yeah!” They all said.

“S-Saweetie? He was able to get Saweetie to perform at his house?” I stammered.

“Nah they rented out the venue and he made the call.” Mikasa said. 

“Damn he must be loaded. What do his parents do?” I was dumbfounded.

“Well his dad is like, one of the top doctors here in Sheena. Everyone goes to him for stuff, even people not from this town. His mom is a seamstress. Literally one of the best.” Sasha answered. 

“I wonder what he’s gonna do this year?” Annie wondered. “Me too.” I mumbled.

I’m actually kind of excited about this party.

[she-karev]

The Talk About Kids (Jolex Imagine)

Previous Chapter Here

Age Rating: 12+

Chapters: Two of Two

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

Ship: Alex and Jo

AN: I decided to shift my focus to a power couple that deserved so much more. I decided to show Alex and Jo throughout pivotal moments in Season 16 and 17 that I believe would fit them.

Summary: Alex and Jo go over adoption agencies online in the loft until people come over to celebrate their nuptials, cutting the moment short. The gang figures out their plans and react with joy.

Words: 1642

November 1st, 2019

“How about this one?”

Jo asks Alex who is busy making coffee while Jo is at the table going over adoption agencies in Seattle. The couple are still clad in their pajamas, having just woken up with Jo already on the track to finding a baby to adopt. Alex is giddy at her eagerness and feels his dream coming closer by the minute.

Alex walks over and looks over Jo’s shoulder at the screen showing an adoption agency website, “What makes this one special?”

“They take in safe haven babies instead of letting them go through the system. I mean its fate, right? For us to find a baby like me who was left by their mother outside a fire station?”

“Yeah, that would be great if we found a baby who was in your situation.” Alex closes his eyes at how that sounded, “Not great for the baby, I meant great for us to give that abandoned baby a chance we never got.”

“I know honey.” Jo says with a grin, “We still have to find a house and make it picture perfect for inspection so we’re just going over our options before we apply but this definitely looks promising.”

“If it has your approval then it’s got mine.” Alex pulls out his phone, “I should look into real estate agents while you do agencies, divide and conquer.”

A knock on the door stops him from typing up in the search engine. He groans but puts his phone away and walks to the door opening it to find a group of five people on the other side. Meredith Grey, Jackson Avery, Link, Andrew DeLuca and Amber Karev are on the other side holding items in their hands. Jo sees the gang and closes her laptop, not quite feeling ready to tell them about their plans to have a baby.

“Hey, what are all of your guys doing here?” Alex asks causing Meredith to raise an eyebrow.

“You told me you got married last night; did you really not expect a celebration? Or gifts?”

“Yeah dummy.” Amber adds passing her brother with a waffle maker box in hand, “It was about time you two knuckleheads sign the damn papers like you should have from the beginning.”

Andrew shakes his head amused at his live-in girlfriend, “That is Amber speak for congratulations from both of us. Happy marriage.”

The whole gang enter the loft and greet Jo who smiles at them, “Hey guys you really didn’t have to do this, the last wedding was good enough for us.”

“Well Meredith insisted we come over and congratulate you in person.” Link explains putting a box of whiskey glasses set on the table, “I think she’s antsy for a party.”

“I just got out of prison.” Meredith reminds them all, “And my medical license might be taken away from me and everyone at Grey Sloan hates me so I need have happy moments otherwise I will start throwing furniture. Coffee?” She asks sharply.

Alex quickly heads to the coffee pot, “Yep.”

Jackson hands Jo a bottle of fine whiskey, “Congratulations you guys.”

Jo grins, “Thank you, you didn’t bring Vic?” Jo sees Amber pursing her lips at the mention of Vic clearly still detesting the firefighter Jackson is casually seeing.

Jackson catches Amber’s disgusted look, “I was planning on coming tonight to bring you the gift, but Amber insisted I ditch my breakfast date with Vic. More like demanded even though I’m her boss.”

“Oh boo hoo.” Amber says dismissively, “Your good friends got legally married last night, celebrating that takes precedence over being sad rebounds for firefighters.”

Jackson groans at that and asks Jo half seriously, “Please remind me why I keep her around?”

Jo chuckles and pulls Amber in for a side hug, “Oh come on, you and I know underneath that crusty exterior there’s a heart. Besides it’s not the first time she disliked someone who’s seeing her favorite men in the world.”

Alex chuckles nostalgically, “Yeah that is very true. One time I caught her putting a cockroach down my dates back and she ran away screaming. I swear I wanted to give her an atomic wedgie so bad.”

Amber grins at that, “Well the high school tramp was calling mom a nutty loon and she talked down to me and told me to make myself useful and get her a water. And most of your other girlfriends treated me just like that, a mini waitress working minimum wage. Same goes for Aaron, you two like to pick girls whose IQ is as high as their bra sizes.”

Meredith chuckles, “So I guess this attitude towards Vic is because you see her as not being good enough for Jackson? Nobody can be good enough for your brothers?”

Amber scoffs and acts tough, “Your crazy if you think I’m that invested in these idiot’s love lives. I just hate awful people and they have a preference for them.” Jo glares at that, “Except for you, you are the exception.”

Jo chuckles and pulls her sister-in-law in for a side hug, “Well I’m glad I got your approval.”

“Please do me a favor though.” Jackson asks Amber with a pleading face, “Don’t scare Vic away with a cockroach or a snake or whatever disgusting creature feels drawn to your evil nature.”

“Are you gonna make me some coffee?” Amber asks causing Jackson to roll his eyes but head towards the coffee maker to Amber’s satisfaction, “I’ll do my best then.”

Jo chuckles and pulls away, “We feel bad if we knew you were coming, we would have made a spread or something.”

“Since when do you cook?” Meredith teases before proposing, “We’ll just go to a pancake house and celebrate with lots of carbs and syrup.”

“And bacon.” Link adds with a smile, “You can’t have a celebration breakfast without bacon.”

Meredith laughs, “And in that spirit I’ll find us a breakfast place nearby that serves all of that.” Meredith opens the laptop to Alex and Jo’s distress.

“Wait Mer don’t-” Alex’s attempts are stopped as the screen pops up showing the adoption agency website that Jo left it on.

Meredith looks at the website in silent shock with the rest of the gang looking at her confused. Alex and Jo look both embarrassed and relieved at the cat being out of the bag. Jo sighs and stands next to Alex wrapping her arm around his back as they face Jackson, Link, DeLuca and Amber who look confused by Meredith’s frozen face. Jo and Alex look at each other silently communicating that it’s okay to tell people.

“We have an announcement to make.” Alex starts.

Jo smiles, “We’re gonna have a baby.”

The gang have different reactions of joy with Link asking ‘what?’ with a big smile, Jackson’s eyes shot up in shock, Amber’s mouth gapes open before laughing in joy with her boyfriend Andrew next to her smiling saying congratulations.

“Eventually.” Jo elaborates with a smile over their joy, “We’re looking at adoption agencies which is what Meredith is seeing at the laptop that caught her off guard.”

Meredith closes the laptop and goes to the happy couple with a smile, “Congratulations! Your gonna be parents!” She hugs Alex first who smiles at the affection as well as Jo who gets a hug as well before Meredith pulls back, “And if you ever need help with the adoption process, I am the person to turn to.”

“Thank you we really appreciate it.” Jo tells her good friend.

“And seriously.” Meredith starts with a grin, “Zola is the best thing that happened to me and Derek, I knew from the moment I saw her that she was ours and you’ll know it with your baby.”

Alex grins, “I hope so and you know if it wasn’t for me that little girl wouldn’t have even come here and you wouldn’t have met her so really, I’m the reason you started your family.”

“Humble as always.” Meredith quips, “But thank you for that.”

Amber shrieks at the news and immediately tackles her brother in a bear hug that takes him by surprise, “Wow kid I think this is the most affection you’ve ever shown me.” Alex tells his sister in a strained voice over how tight she’s squeezing him.

Jo giggles and at the sight, “We take it your happy.”

Amber pulls back still smiling, “Of course I’m happy I’m finally gonna be an Auntie, Auntie Amber. What took you two so long? I have been dying to have a niece or nephew to spoil.”

Alex chuckles, “We’ll things have happened, and life got in the way of us taking the next big step.”

Jo holds his hand, “But then we realized that life is always gonna be unpredictable so we might as well have a little more love and joy to get through it.”

“Amen.” Link states, “And if you guys have a baby before me, I can just watch you two and figure how to not screw up my kid.”

Jackson chuckles, “What he means is congratulations and we hope you guys start a family soon. And if you ever need a reference, I am always up for it.”

“Or you can pick me and DeLuca and Link instead.” Meredith and Jackson look at Amber with a raised eyebrow over excluding them, “Sorry guys but out of all of us you two have a record as dirty as a swamp rat in a sewer.”

Jackson clicks his tongue, “Ouch.”

“She is right.” Meredith says, “She’s mean but she’s right. Okay shall we get a breakfast spread to celebrate you guys getting legally married and starting to have a baby?” The gang all agree and head out for a breakfast party to celebrate this new chapter in Alex and Jo’s life.

[satureja13]

Rubyn took Ji Ho over to her lab. She is lecturer over at Foxbury Institute but lives and researches here at the Paraná-Wodall House. Her priority now is to research the meteorites and homeschool Ji Ho.

Rubyn: "Let's show you around. I already built a device to research the meteorites! Oh this is so exciting! I've never heard of something like this and can't wait to start!" Ji Ho whereas already outlived stranger things ^^'

Rubyn: "But let's have breakfast first." She put the batter in the waffle maker and began to teach physics to Ji Ho... No gain without pain -.-

Ji Ho has his desk next to the meteorites and his meteorite began to glow, as always when they are near each other. Rubyn was just collecting the waffles when Ji Ho's phone started to vibrate. Messages from the others... He ignored them and left the group chat. It's time to let go. Morgan was right. Their troubles started when he joined them and as long as he's with them, the council will be after them to gain access to the bond's powers.

Rubyn: "Let's eat!"

Rubyn: "Leander told me a bit about your painful past. But to bring this to an end we need your collaboration. This must be so hard for you. Should you feel uncomfortable, please let us know and we'll stop. Anytime, ok?" Ji Ho: "Don't worry. I will do anything to end this and cut the bond. I will be fine."

Outtakes

Wesley and the menagerie at the Paraná-Wodall House

From the Beginning  ~  Underwater Love ~  Latest

The 'Disbandment of the Group' Chapter from the beginning -> here

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

wallflower 41

Warnings: age gap, creepin’, slow burn, stepdad-adjacent, possible noncon/dubcon, abuse, violence, self-harm, manipulation, panic attack, dissociation, gaslighting.

Character: silverfox!Thor

Your mother meets a new man, but he doesn’t seem very interested in her.

Note: <3 Another erratic drabble series. Appreciate any and all feedback. Love you all. And I didn’t expect this chapter to go this way or to be a bit longer than usual.

You don't quite fall asleep, sitting in a half slump against Thor as he rumbles behind you. You're too afraid to move in fear he'll wake and start again. You can do nothing but reflect on his unexpected words.

Loves you? No. Your mother used to get drunk enough to say that sometimes. You always knew she was lying, even if you tried to believe it.

Thor's hurt and confused. Like you. You've been mean. You didn't mean to but he's right. Everything he's done for you and what did you do? You ditched him. He brought you all the way here and what thanks does he get?

He shifts in his sleep and snorts loudly, jarring you in surprise. You look back at him, instinctively putting your hand on his shoulder. The morning light streams in and stings your eyes. You can't stay there forever.

You move slowly, heart beating wildly as you draw away from him. You reach over him and drag down the thin waffled blanket across his body. He snores and you let out a breath. He'll feel real shitty when he wakes up.

Quietly, you tiptoe to the kitchen and take careful account of the counters and cupboards. You soften the click of a door and pull out a bag of coffee from the neatly organised basket of supplies. You'll have to thank Loki, it must be his doing.

You set about figuring out the coffee maker and let it percolate. You peek into the living room before breaking the threshold. Thor continues his thunderous slumber and you flit to the front door.

You let yourself out into the early chill. It's brisker in the mornings but nothing so frigid as home. The afternoon will be balmy again. It's like spring.

You sit on the top step and watch the blue sky. You didn't check the time but it might be later than you thought. You watch a bird overhead and the sun blurs in the edge of your vision.

You hear traction on the ground and glance over. Loki strolls with hands in his pockets, not seeing you at first as he watches the sky. You think of hiding but it's too late for that.

"Morning," he tilts his chin down, "you look... tired."

"Oh, uh, it's early," you shrug.

"Is it?" He smiles, "I suppose when you associate with my niece, it would be."

"Yeah, I uh," you rub your neck and glance over your shoulder, "I should get some coffee."

"Mmm, sounds delicious," he intones.

You pause and swallow, your mouth dry as your ears buzz. You don't want to be rude. You feel bad enough. If it wasn't for him, you wouldn't even be here.

"Want some?" You plant a hand on the porch and push yourself up.

He steps forward and offers his hand. He helps you to your feet and you thank him quietly, "I'd love a coffee with you, darling."

"Will you... wait out here?" You ask, "sorry, I made a mess last night. Promise I'll clean it up before I'm gone."

"Not to worry," he lets you go, long fingers brushing over yours, "I do not judge but I will not embarrass you. I can wait, enjoy the view."

He turns and once more faces the horizon. You nod and suck in air. It's going to be okay. You'll talk to Thor, when he's sober it will be easier.

You go inside, creeping along as you watch the back of the couch. You hear his low breaths, his snore quieter than before. In the kitchen, you set out an empty mug for Thor and fill two others. You carry them through, wary of the sleeping body across the room.

You edge through, focusing on not spilling the coffee as Loki waits, leaning on the column that hold up the porch overhang. You hand him the black mug and keep the blue one for yourself. He thanks you and stays as he is, gazing out across his property.

"I was thinking, about you, darling," he begins, "about our session. I believe this place has brought you peace already. I will discuss with my brother but I would like to speak to you first." He pauses to take a sip, blowing away the steam as he looks at you, "you are more than welcome to stay beyond the week's end."

You raise your brows and take a gulp, the coffee burning your tongue. You sniff and shrug.

"I don't know..."

"I only want you to consider it. There is no expectation, no pressure. Only a suggestion, an invitation," he explains, "but I sense now that your former peace is fleeting."

"N-no, I'm okay. I just... didn't get much sleep," you yawn, "really, it's all very nice and I've had such a good time. I just..." you take in a breath, "I don't belong here."

"Don't...?" He frowns, "what do you mean?"

"This isn't my family. This isn't... my home. Not here, not Thor's, not anywhere."

His green eyes bore into you, "where else would you go?"

"No where, I guess, but you said you could find me somewhere. A shelter, right? Or maybe... a hospital."

"I don't think--" he pauses and inhales, "that's for very extreme cases, darling, but you're not... I don't think you belong there either."

You shake your head. You don't know anything. You're helpless, pathetically so.

"Do you not want to stay here? Or is it my brother?" He wonders.

"No, no, I'm so grateful but--"

"That's not what I'm asking."

You meet his eyes and freeze. He waits but you can't say it. Before he can break the silence, a lumbering gait comes from within and the door swings open. Thor leans heavily on the frame and shields his eyes from the daylight.

"Brother," Loki greets with a hint of surprise, "I had no idea you were... around."

"Hmmph," Thor grumbles, "what-- kitten?"

"He had a rough night," you say, "he got a little lost on his way back from the cellar."

"Kitten," Thor growls deeper and drops his hand, standing straight with a wince, "I'm perfectly fine. What are you doing hanging around here? Slithering like the snake you are."

"Please, let's not. I was simply having a coffee with--"

"You do too much," Thor sneers.

"Speak for yourself," Loki turns and sets his coffee on the flat rail of porch, "she may be too nice to tell the truth but it seems you invited yourself drunkenly into her villa. And I am the presumptuous one?"

"You talk a lot," Thor's feet hit the wood harshly as he nears his brother, "and you say things that are not true and she knows no better than to believe you."

Loki laughs and rolls his eyes, "me? Oh brother, I am trained to spot projection a mile away."

"Tell him, kitten, I did nothing wrong," Thor growls.

"Can you even remember what you did? Or perhaps you are afraid she might star--" Loki staggers back as Thor's fist cracks across his jaw.

You cry out in shock as he stumbles down the stairs and cradles his face. Thor goes to follow him as your nerves ping off each other. You insert yourself between him and the steps before you can think, pushing against his stomach.

"Stop, stop," you squeal as your eyes sear, "please stop! Stop!"

"Kitten, he's lying--"

"He didn't say anything!" You holler, "back up. Back up! You're--- you're-- scary. You're scaring me."

He lets off, inching away as you keep your hands up. You peek over your shoulder and descend cautiously. You go to Loki as he holds up his bloodied hand and snorts into a choke.

"Are you okay?" You whimper, dizzy at the dark crimson smear across his palm.

"I have taken worse," Loki affirms, "and not the first it's come from him." He straightens and blots his nose with his sleeve, "come, darling, I couldn't stomach to leave you alone with this brute."

Loki takes your arm with his unsullied hand and turns you away, dipping his head down as he tries to stem the free flow. You hear Thor as he clamours down the porch, "Kitten--"

"Do not force me to reciprocate, brother," Loki spits back as he leads you on, "we know how that shall end."

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

Today, on Discord, there was a discussion about whether eating Pop Tarts with peanut butter sandwiched between them was genius or horrifying. Then @ctrsara said 'You need to write a short about Peter making that and eating it in front of Tony.' And you know what? She was right. So here it is at 780 words.

Peter Parker's Quadruple Peanut Butter Pop Tart Sandwich

Tony came up from the lab to the penthouse kitchen hoping to find some coffee and maybe a protein shake or gluten free waffle. What he found instead was his young mentee sitting on the counter biting into a stack of strawberry frosted Pop Tarts.

“What are you doing?” He asked, wondering when Pop Tarts had become something he stocked in his kitchen. He had no recollection of having ever bought any. He made a mental note to check with FRIDAY later.

“Eating breakfast,” Peter replies, his mouth still full of half chewed food. Tony opened his mouth to chastise him for his lack of manners, then spied an empty Pop Tart box beside the trash can. It was fine. He likely wasn’t the right person to correct that kind of thing anyway. Some people would call it hypocritical. As such, he simply rolled his eyes and picked the box up to put it all the way in the bin.

“Are you eating an entire box of Pop Tarts?” he asked next.

Peter swayed his head, taking a brief moment to swallow. “No. It’s only two packs.”

Tony blinked as his brain tried to process how anyone could employ the phrase ‘only two packs’ in reference to cheap breakfast pastries. Especially when they were packaged in pairs.

“Oh I’m sorry, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, having clearly misread his expression. “Did you want some?”

After taking a moment to clear his thoughts, Tony shook his head. “Absolutely not,” he firmly asserted. “There’s nothing in those but pure sugar and empty calories.”

“Are you parenting me right now?” Peter asked with a little too much amusement in his voice. Tony opened his mouth to refute but before he could arrange a singular word, the kid was waving around a half empty jar of peanut butter.

“Besides, I added peanut butter between them,” Peter added, as thought that made eating four Pop Tarts in one sitting any better.

“Okay so let me get this straight,” Tony said, then paused for emphasis. “You’re eating four Pop Tarts. With peanut butter sandwiched between them. For breakfast.”

As Peter giddily nodded his head, Tony stared in disbelief. 

“What?” peter eventually proclaimed. “The peanut butter adds protein!”

“Well, I’m thrilled you’re getting your protein and all but I think we could come up with a few healthier breakfast options. Don’t you?” Tony asked, as he finally crossed the kitchen toward the coffee maker.

“What, like that green juice you like to drink in the mornings?” Peter asked, still munching away on his quadruple peanut butter Pop Tart sandwich.

“I mean, that would be a promising start,” Tony said with a quirk of his brow. “It's full of fiber and has four servings of fruits and vegetables.”

“No offense, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, his nose scrunched up in dramatic disgust, “but it’s also really gross.”

Tony rolled his eyes, crossed his arms over his chest and leaned on the counter to wait for his coffee to brew. “Well I guess that means I have a more sophisticated palate than you.” he smoothly replied.

“You know if doesn't actually matter how many empty calories I eat, right, Mr. Stark,” Peter questioned before shoving another bite into his mouth. “I have an enhanced metabolism. I’ll burn right through this. No big deal.”

Tony sighed, unable to argue with that. “Perks of being a superhuman spider-person, huh?” he absentmindedly questioned, while digging around in the cabinets for his favorite mug. As an afterthought, he pulled one of the aforementioned bottles of green juice out of the refrigerator as well, just to balance it out. And that got him thinking. “But still, you could probably make your next snack at least a little bit healthier, right?”

Peter pulled a face then pointed an accusatory finger in Tony’s direction. “You still sound like somebody's dad,” he adamantly accused.

Unable, or perhaps unwilling to argue, Tony shook his head. “Sure, Kid. Whatever you say,” he vaguely conceded. Afterward, he realized the coffee had finished brewing. Subsequently, he picked up the carafe and poured a decent serving into this mug. He took a tentative sip, cautious not to burn his tongue and hummed in satisfaction. He could hear Peter giggling beside him and shot him a mildly warning look.

“Yeah, yeah, knock it off, Kiddo,” he blandly stated, then winked and offered a aoft smile. “How about when you’re done with that monstrosity, you grab an apple and meet me in the lab. We’ve got work to do.”

Peter smiled back and without hesitation, shoved the last bite into his mouth. Around he mumbled, “You got it, Mr. Stark,” and all Tony could do was laugh.

[multi-fan-dom-madness]

Sorry, it took me a bit to get this request to you, and Tumblr is being Tumblr 😅.

Hello, love! For the first kiss ask:

How about Tal with an accidental first kiss ooooor taller gently grasping the shorter's chin. (The chin grasp kills me 😫).

Feel free to use one or both or switch it up! 🥰🥰

hiiii friend! I'm so sorry this took so long for me to get to; between realizing that my OC Tal is in fact aro/ace and does not feel like they'd fit the prompt, and just general life things, and also the muse being a fickle beast, things have been A Lot! but I'm finally happy with how this turned out, and I really enjoyed the chance to explore the softer side of another OC: Commander Creed! <3

Broken Rules

Summary: Creed decides the best path forward is to just be honest about his feelings.

Warnings: this is mostly just fluff but blog is still 18+; gn!reader

Word Count: 887

Creed has always been a man of action, of direct words, of clear intentions. He says what he means, and means what he says—even when everyone around him would rather waffle and oscillate and obfuscate. Even as a cadet, participating in the training simulations with the other young clones destined to become commanders, he earned a reputation for being rough, abrasive, blunt.

His Jedi commander calls him grumpy. He calls them naive. Without fail, they laugh with a mischievous smile—and that always gets you going, a tiny grin threatening to break over your face. 

As a nat-born handler assigned to his battalion, you’re one of very few personnel aboard the Messenger that Creed doesn’t fully understand how to act with. His Jedi colleagues at least make sense; they’re part of the war effort to minimize loss of life and to protect the Republic, same as he and his men are. His brothers, of course, he has no problem connecting with. Most of the other nat-born contractors stay out of his way, which is more than fine with him. 

But you? You baffle Creed, and the only thing more confusing to him is the way you make him feel. 

If he’s being blunt with himself, he knows it’s a crush. It’s the only thing these feelings can be—the anticipatory tightening in his chest when he hears your voice around the corner, the fluttering in his chest whenever you smile in his direction, the maddening urge to tilt your head up so you meet his gaze straight on. If he’s being honest, he knows that the way you act around him, shuffling your feet and glancing away from his gaze, probably means his feelings aren’t one-sided. But these are things the Kaminoans never trained the clones for, and instead of facing the situation head-on like he does everything else, Creed waffles. 

And he’s so karking tired of it. 

So he’s not entirely certain what he’s doing outside your personal quarters, but he’s knocking on the durasteel door before he can talk himself out of this. It’s late—at least, his body tells him it’s late; there’s no way to know for certain when they’re in hyperspace—but despite the hour, it’s only a moment before your door slides open. 

“C-Commander!” You immediately stand straighter, smoothing out your sleep clothes. “What can I help you with, sir?” 

Your name falls from his lips before he can process it. Your first name, not your title, or your last name, but a name that feels so unfamiliar and yet sounds so right coming from him. “I’m not here on business.” 

“Oh.” You blink at him. “Well, still. Is there something you needed?” 

“I—” Creed sighs, drawing a hand over his face. “May I come in? I’d like to speak with you.” 

He catches the momentary flare of panic that crosses your features, but you step aside regardless. The door slides shut behind him. Your quarters are sparsely furnished; it makes his heart feel funny, that you haven’t made this space your own yet, despite being attached to the 387th for months now. 

“No decorations?” he asks. 

“Um.” You sound taken aback. “It’s...against GAR regulations to—”

“Right,” he says, waving his hand. Maker, could he be any worse at this? “My ARCs would tell you regulations are in place to be broken.” 

“Are you...giving me permission to break the rules, Commander?”

“Creed.”

“What?” 

“Call me Creed,” he says, finally lifting his gaze to yours. “Please.” 

His eyes flicker down to your lips as they part in surprise. Stars, you really are a sight, and he wonders why he hasn’t taken the time to fully appreciate the view until now. Heart pounding in his chest, he wipes his palms on the fabric of his blacks. 

“The answer is ‘yes’,” he says. When your brow furrows in confusion, he continues, “About breaking regulations. Because I’m about to break several.” 

“What’s going on?” 

Idly scratching at his ear, a nervous habit he picked up as a cadet, Creed sighs. “I like you.” 

He winces internally at the brusque timbre of his words, but understanding dawns over your face like the sun’s first rays. Swallowing harshly, Creed forces himself to stop fidgeting.

“May as well throw out all the handbooks,” you say after a moment. “Can I break a few more?”

“Please.” 

You close the distance until you’re in his personal space. Peering up at him from beneath your eyelashes, you reach with tentative hands to brush your fingertips over the swell of his cheeks. Creed nearly leans into your touch. Instead, he does what he’s been wanting to for weeks, and he tucks one finger under your chin to tilt your head up as he leans down. 

Your lips are soft and warm against his own. He exhales a shaky breath as your hands slide around his neck, anchoring him to you; this is so far beyond uncharted territory that Creed can’t help but simply marvel at the rhythm you set. Mouths moving slow and in sync, you tilt his head, deepening the kiss. 

When you pull back, he finds you already gazing when he opens his eyes.

“Never woulda thought our big scary commander would break so many rules,” you say with a soft, teasing smile. 

Creed hums. “I won’t tell if you won’t.” 

“Deal.”

Ragu: @dystopicjumpsuit @clonemedickix @littlemissmanga @wolffegirlsunite @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @sinfulsalutations @523rdrebel @sunshinesdaydream @moonlightwarriorqueen @sev-on-kamino @starrylothcat @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @mandos-mind-trick @idontgetanysleep @eyeluvmusic21 @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sleepycreativewriter @bobaprint @dickarchivist @a-single-tulip @thorsterstrudle @droids-you-are-looking-for @goblininawig @cw80831 @mssbridgerton @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @9902sgirl @dreamie411 @jedi-hawkins

[fandomsandflyingstingrays]

Stepping Stones: Chapter 8

“Be careful with that!” Hunter squawks, lunging for the box Vee’s carrying and yanking it from her hands before she can drop it unceremoniously on the table beside his new bed. “It’s fragile,” he adds, very pointedly setting it gently down. 

“Okay, okay! What even is it?”

“The limited-edition Cosmic Frontier figurines I got in that auction.” Hunter strokes the box that contains them lovingly.

Luz pokes her head into the room. “I didn’t think you took those out of their boxes.”

“Of course I haven’t! But plastic doesn’t protect anything.”

Luz makes a “that’s fair” face. 

Camila brushes past her, placing a box of Hunter’s clothes beside his chest of drawers. “I think that’s the last of it, mijo,” she says, dusting off her hands. 

“Thanks again for helping me.”

“Of course! It was a good excuse for me to declutter, too.” She reaches over and ruffles his hair. “But you’d better come visit us often, entiendes?” 

“Por… supuesto?” Hunter replies haltingly, and beams at Camila’s nod. More confidently, he adds, “I still need to show Luz who the real MarioKart champion is.”

Luz scoffs, shoving him lightly.

Raine is the next figure to appear, holding a medium-sized box. “You left this in the kitchen by mistake,” he tells Camila.

She shakes her head. “No mistake. It’s a housewarming gift for Hunter.”

Hunter takes another look at the box, eyes widening when they find the picture on the side. “A waffle maker?”

“Cordless and everything.”

“Thank you!” Hunter exclaims, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Of all the breakfast foods he tried in the Human Realm, waffles were by far his favorite. So many even little holes, perfect for precise squares of syrup. 

“It’s a human breakfast food,” Vee explains to Raine. “There should be instructions for how to make them in the box.”

“Oh! Perfect! I’ll put it in the kitchen, then. Hunter, do you need any help unpacking?”

“No thanks. I have pretty specific spots in mind for everything, so…”

“Got it. I won’t mess up your rhythm.”

Raine heads back for the kitchen, and the others turn to Hunter. “I guess that’s our cue to get going,” Camila says.

“But shoot me a text if you need any more help!” Luz adds.

“I will. Thanks.”

Hunter looks around the room. It was time, he knows. People are starting to wonder why Camila was never having anyone over, and a couple have asked who the blond kid they’d seen in the yard was. With Hexside reopening tomorrow, the timing for the move couldn’t be better— and Darius and Raine even walled off part of the house’s main room so that Hunter can have his own space. 

But it doesn’t mean he doesn’t look at all the blank walls and stacked boxes and miss the cluttered, dimly lit basement in Gravesfield. It’s been lonely without Gus, sure, but he’s always had the Nocedas just above him. His family. 

Luz, who always seems to be able to sense his emotions without him saying a word, wraps her arm around him. She also has a sixth sense for when he doesn’t want to talk about anything, though, and when she speaks, it’s just to tell him, “I’ll send Stringbean through the portal door tomorrow at seven, and she’ll meet you here so you can fly to Hexside together.”

Hunter pulls back to look at her, scanning her face. “Are you sure?”

“We’ve talked about this a gazillion times. I can’t take her to school, and Mom can’t take her to work, and now that Vee’s starting at Gravesfield High, she won’t be home to play with her. She’ll be dying of boredom.”

“I’ll be careful with her,” Hunter promises, and Luz squeezes his shoulder.

“I know you will.”

“All right,” Camila says, gently taking Luz and Vee by their shoulders and steering them towards the door. “Hunter has a lot of stuff to unpack. Let’s give him some space.”

“Thanks,” Hunter says again, but this time the word comes out choked, squeezed through a closed throat. He’s pictured this— the moment of separation— dozens of times, and he knows how he wants it to end. He knows what he wants to say. The families in books and movies say it all the time. But what if that’s just in stories? What if Hunter’s got it all wrong?

Hearing his tone, they turn back to him with concern in their eyes, and Hunter knows they’re going to ask what’s wrong— and it’ll be a thousand times more awkward if they ask— just do it, Hunter, come on—

“I love you guys,” he blurts out. 

There’s one heart-stopping moment of terror when their eyes widen— and then they’re beaming, and he’s being pulled in by their arms and enfolded in one big hug, and each of their voices are saying it back, and Hunter knows he made the right choice even as he starts to cry.

…

The first few times he stayed overnight in the Isles, Hunter woke up gasping, frantically scanning the room for threats as he tried to place his surroundings. But there’s none of that this morning. As soon as he opens his eyes, he sees the sweeping bi flag he hung on the opposite wall, and the sewing table situated beneath it. There’s his bookshelf, with his Cosmic Frontier figurines carefully propped on top of it. There’s his chest of drawers, open boxes he didn’t quite get to putting away spilling clothes out in front of it. The room isn’t familiar, but it feels a little like home anyway. 

He climbs out of bed and pulls on his Hexside uniform, beaming as he catches a glimpse of his black tunic and multicolored sleeves in the mirror. When he cracks open the door of his room, he’s greeted by a sweet scent that makes his smile even wider. 

“You figured out the waffle maker!” He says to Raine by way of greeting.

Raine turns around, their cheeks puffed out to twice their normal size, and Hunter realizes they’re bent not over the waffle maker but a plate stacked three waffles high.

“Sorry,” they say when they manage to swallow. “They’re so good— I had to have some before I sat down.”

“I don’t blame you.” Hunter moves to the pot of batter, intending to make a waffle for himself, but Raine waves him off. 

“I’ve got it,” they say, pouring the batter onto the iron and closing it as Hunter takes a seat at the table. 

Darius approaches, a comb in his hand an an expression that’s half-questioning, half-desperate on his face. Hunter heaves a long-suffering sigh, but nods, allowing Darius to take the comb to his head in an almost certainly futile attempt to tame his hair. 

“Have you ever considered cutting it?” Darius asks.

Hunter laughs. He can’t help himself. 

“Got the Belos treatment too, did you?�� Raine asks, setting Hunter’s waffle down in front of him and flipping their newly-regrown locks.

“Yep. Guess he was pretty attached to long hair.”

Darius’s expression falls. Hunter focuses on carefully dotting syrup into each hole of his waffle, and he’s almost finished by the time Darius speaks again, his voice softer.

“We could cut it again, you know.”

Hunter takes a bite of his waffle to buy himself time, going over what he wants to say. 

He swallows. “I considered that. But what he did to me— it’s always going to be part of my appearance. The scars, the eyes. I like long hair, so I may as well keep that too.”

“It suits you,” Darius replies, and he, Raine, and Hunter all take forkfuls of their waffles at once. 

The knock at the door comes right as Hunter’s taking his last bite, and he opens it to find Stringbean waiting outside.

“Seven-thirty already?” He shrieks. “I’ve gotta go!”

Raine glances at the clock, eyes widening in alarm. “I guess it takes more time to make these things than I thought.”

“It does when you make yourself three,” Darius shoots back, but the rest of his grumbling is lost as Hunter flees to the bathroom, brushing his teeth at breakneck speed. When he returns to the living room, it’s to find Darius standing by the door, palisman in hand.

Hunter blinks. “You’re… coming with me?”

“Don’t want you to get lost, now, do we?”

Hunter opens his mouth to say that he’s been on enough missions to find his way in any part of the Isles, but Darius cuts him off before he can begin with a wave of his hand. “Let’s just get moving, okay?”

Too late to argue, Hunter hops on top of Stringbean. “Have a good day!” Raine calls, giving him a wave. Over their shoulder, Eber does the same, having woken up and piled his plate with a stack of waffles twice the size of Raine’s in the time it took Hunter to get ready.

“Thanks!” He replies, and launches himself into the sky, only looking back once to make sure Darius is following him.

He doesn’t even have time to feel nervous as he cruises down to the front doors of Hexside, calling goodbye to Darius as he races through the doors and down the hall, frantically pulling the map Gus gave him from his pocket and scanning it for the arrows. Two rights, a left, another right— and he bursts into the Illusion homeroom, chest heaving, just as the final bell lets out a piercing wail. 

“Right on time!” Gus whispers, holding his fist out as Hunter slides into the seat next to his. Hunter bumps it but doesn’t answer, his eyes fixed on the teacher for any sign of disapproval.

But her face is perfectly placid as she begins calling names off a list, the kids sounding off in turn, and Hunter slowly relaxes enough to glance at Gus. When he does, he draws in a quiet gasp.

“Your sleeves! Does that mean…”

“Yep.” Gus flexes his arms in his red sleeves, grinning. “I’m branching out.”

Hunter feels himself grinning, too. He’s taking some bard magic mainly because learning how to play Raine’s violin was one of the only things that relaxed him when he started staying overnight in the Owl House again— but he was still nervous about it, mainly because Skara is the only bard his age he knows. Until now, anyway. He opens his mouth to ask what instrument Gus plays, when—

“Hunter Noceda-Daemonne-Whispers-Clawthorne?”

“Here,” he calls, raising a hand just like he saw the other kids do. The other kids who are all now peering at him with wide eyes. 

“I thought it was normal for people to have hyphenated last names,” he hisses to Gus out of the corner of his mouth.

Granted, he only ever heard the Nocedas talk about people with two last names, but he thought that meant you could just pile on as many as you wanted. When Bump had told him he needed a surname, something to distinguish him from the other Hunters in the school, he’d just written down the last names of all the people who’d taken him in. All the people he wanted to call family. 

“You’re all just jealous he’s got so many powerful parents,” Gus says to the other kids, and they all quickly turn around. “See?” he adds to Hunter, as though this proves his point. 

“Powerful parents indeed,” the teacher says. “Syd Nolan?”

“Here,” the kid calls, and Hunter lets out a sigh of relief.

He forgets about the incident as the teacher walks him through the basics of casting an illusion on himself. It takes all class, but he finally gives himself human ears convincing enough to make Gus give him a standing ovation. When the two of them get to their next class, he finds out that Gus plays the guitar, watching eagerly as he calls up an illusion of Captain Avery just by playing a few chords, and he has to stop himself from cheering out loud when he summons an illusion of O’Bailey to match it with a few notes on the violin Raine helped him carve. Skara runs her fingers lightly over the bird carved out of the scroll and gives Hunter an understanding smile. When she sees the moisture gathering in his eyes, she’s good enough to change the subject to his illusion, and he promises to lend her his copy of Cosmic Frontier as long as she swears on her life not to damage it. 

Hunter walks into his first plant class already scanning it for Willow, but does a double take when he sees Amity sitting next to her, her green sleeves clashing spectacularly with her purple hair. It doesn’t take long for the surprise to fade, though, as he remembers the hours she spent sitting with Willow in the Nocedas’ backyard, patiently learning how to grow flowers for Luz. It turns out to be an extra-good thing she’s there when she’s the only one remotely capable of helping Willow subdue the carnivorous rosebush that attacks them midway through class.

Amity links her arm through his as they walk to their next class and patiently walks him through the steps to mixing abomination goo. At first, he’s confused at why she makes such a point to emphasize each time an ingredient is only found in the mix for abominations, until he realizes she’s worried about the process feeling to similar to making a Grimwalker. The next time she does it, he gives her a small smile. 

As soon as he walks into the Healing Homeroom, Viney waves him over to the seat next to hers, sliding her notes from the previous semester to him under the table. One glance at the material tells him it’s all old news, and Viney raises an eyebrow when she finishes grading the pop quizzes they exchanged. 

“One hundred percent,” she says. “Someone studied hard while school was closed.”

Hunter waves a hand. “Oh, I knew all this already. The Healing Coven couldn’t always get there fast enough if I was on a remote mission.”

He takes in Viney’s crestfallen expression and realizes this is one of those experiences that is child-soldier specific. 

The teacher starts talking again and he pretends to focus on her until Viney lays a hand on his arm. “They’re still finding posters of Belos all over the place,” she says in a low, venomous voice. Nodding towards her griffin at the back of the room, she adds, “if you ever want to watch Puddles devour a whole bunch of them, just let me know, okay?”

Not exactly his idea of fun, but he smiles anyway. It’s the thought that counts.

When Hunter and Viney make their way out to the playing field after Beastkeeping, Hunter feels simultaneously like he might collapse straight into the grass with the exhaustion of the day and like he could run all the way home on the energy of all the new things he’s gotten to learn. The excitement wins out as he sees the rest of the team in their uniforms, the prospect of finally getting to practice all together wiping every thought from his mind. 

Willow waves him over as Viney starts telling Gus and Skara about the fire bees she and Hunter spent the last hour wrangling. “How are you feeling?” she asks in a low voice. “About…” she nods to Stringbean, and Hunter understands. 

“It’ll be weird, practicing without him,” he admits. “But losing Flap hurt bad enough. I don’t want to lose this too.” 

Willow smiles. “You just tell me if you need a break, okay?”

Hunter’s cheeks heat under the weight of her stare, even as he smiles back. “Okay. Thanks.”

She nods and turns to the others, clapping her hands once. “Okay, team! I figured we could start with some drills…” she trails off as she realized Skara and Gus are too engrossed in Viney’s story to hear.

She raises her fingers to her mouth, to whistle or something, but Hunter steps in before she can. “All right, team,” he says in the lower pitch of the Golden Guard, “the next hour should be relatively painless, as long as you do what the Captain says.”

All three of them freeze, and Hunter cringes— but then they burst out laughing, and a smile slides over his face. 

Willow nudges him. “Thanks,” she says with a wink, and his grin turns into a full-on beam.

“Yeah, no— no problem.”

“Okay, team,” she says again, “I figured we could start with some drills. Everyone make a circuit of the field, as fast as you can, and try to snag one of our flags and one of the other team’s.”

The others hop onto their palismen and rise into the air, but Hunter pauses, looking at Stringbean’s staff. Letting himself ache and wish, just for a moment.

Then he perches on Stringbean, turning to find Willow and Gus looking back at him. Willow extends a hand to him, and Gus follows her lead.

Hunter takes a breath. Takes their hands. And starts to fly.