#but boy howdy is the invitation to do so sure extended

[elainemorisi]

man truly does mortgage his soul for Daniel, damn

[haworthiaace]

Magic misfits! Did I update the masterpost specifically because of this fic? yes absolutely. A busy day for Scar, featuring TFC and some good ol’ Scar appreciation :]

The start of a new season was always interesting.

While TFC didn’t enjoy having to start from scratch every year or so; having gotten used to the comforts of late season riches, he did love the sheer amount of interaction that came with a new season. TFC was content to hear gossip about the others’ shenanigans while he stuck to what he was best at: mining. Some of the others called it cheating to use his earthbending down in the tunnels, but he called it cheating to be able to shapeshift, or use magic crystals, or any of the other crazy things the other hermits could do, so it evened out.

When he wasn’t down in his mine, TFC watched as all the other hermits scrambled to make the most impressive buildings and contraptions in as little time as possible. Many of his servermates placed more importance on finishing their creations than actually gathering necessities such as tools and armour. 

As if to prove this observation, the Boatem village appeared on the other side of the nether portal, populated with structures that were much too large considering it had only been three weeks since they arrived in this world. There was also a… tree? At least that’s what it looked like; a thin oak tree stretching up past the clouds and out of view. Looks like Mumbo and Grian were up to no good already.

“TFC! Up here!” Scar’s voice came from somewhere above TFC’s head, and he looked up to see the wizard (although he no longer wore his robe and hat) standing on a balcony extending from a truly massive wagon, one hand on the railing and the other extended above his head, waving enthusiastically at TFC.

He climbed the ladder up the side of the wagon, entering a sparse storage room. Knowing Scar, he either hadn’t bothered to move in yet or lost all of his things in a cave somewhere. Despite his powerful crystal magic, Scar still managed to die more than any other hermit, so the second option was more likely.

“Well hello there! Welcome to my humble abode, please take a seat.” Scar led TFC to a balcony, where he gestured towards a table and two folding chairs. Scar sat down, crossing his legs and folding his arms in his lap. “So, what brings you to our little village today?”

TFC raised an eyebrow at the question, confusion evident in his voice. “Because you invited me? We were supposed to have tea today.” 

Scar jolted in his seat, then proceeded to scramble out of said seat. “I’ll be right back! I have to go… feed Jellie!” This was quite obviously a lie seeing as Jellie hadn’t returned from her between seasons interdimensional travels yet. TFC’s laughter chased Scar into the wagon, where he frantically prepared the tea that he was totally planning on making because he definitely remembered his plans for the day. 

After about five minutes of mildly concerning crashing sounds, Scar returned with two steaming mugs of tea (decorated with cat faces, of course) and a plate of chocolate chip cookies - Stress’ recipe if TFC wasn’t mistaken. They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, appreciating the tea and cookies. 

“So, how are you holding up this season, Scar?” TFC took a sip of green tea, looking out at the horizon.

“Oh you know, the usual. I don’t have my village anymore, but the magical misfits still come seeking my help.” He brought a cookie to his mouth and bit off half of it. “Not that I mind helping people!” He swallowed his mouthful before continuing. “XB was here last week convinced that he left his coat in season seven, but turns out it just ended up in one of Joe’s boxes.” He chuckled to himself, wiping crumbs off of his jacket as TFC stared at the distant ocean, lost in thought.

TFC broke the silence that had fallen. “You’re a good man, y’know that?” The wizard in question looked at TFC in surprise. He was used to ‘thank you’s, but the personal compliment caught him off guard. “You’ve created a safe space for folks from all sorts of places, and you’ve saved quite a few of them from bad people.” 

Scar looked down, smiling at his cup of tea. He spoke quietly, a departure from his usual boisterousness. “Thanks TFC, that means a lot.”

-

Scar was in the middle of catching TFC up on what he missed from day one when something red and very fast crashed into the balcony. The something in question turned out to be Grian, shimmering wings protruding from his back. Something must have been wrong, since winged hermits tended to refrain from flying early in the season, in the name of fairness.

“Scar we need your- Oh heeey, I didn’t know you had company over!” He leaned on the railing, his urgency replaced with a forced cheerfulness as he (quite obviously) pretended nothing was wrong. What was probably supposed to be an easygoing smile stretched too wide, and his voice was more high pitched than usual. “How’s it goin’?”

Scar, completely oblivious, responded excitedly. “Oh, I was just telling TFC here about our adventure in the geode with Cleo!”

Grian’s uncomfortable smile grew wider, and his eyebrows furrowed. “That sounds great, do you think you’ll be done anytime soon?”

“Oh well, I’m not too sure. It depends on when we finish all of these cookies.”

“Oh that’s just wonderful,” Grian’s wings started to twitch behind him, “did you make those yourself?”

Scar took a breath, preparing for a tangent when TFC cut in, showing the poor fairy some mercy. “Alright Grian, out with it. What’s wrong?” Scar stared at Grian, somehow surprised that this wasn’t a completely ordinary visit.

Grian let out a long sigh. “Thank you so much TFC.” He turned his gaze to Scar. “We need a little help with curse breaking.”

Scar set down his mug and gave Grian his full attention, preparing himself for whatever strange curse one of the fairies had set on some poor hermit. “Really? How are you two cursing people already? It hasn’t even been a month!”

Grian’s tangent was accompanied by wild hand gestures that made it difficult to follow what he was saying. “Well, Pearl came up behind Mumbo and spooked him, he shouted something about not sneaking up on him, and now whenever he turns his back on her she teleports directly in front of him.” Grian looked nervously over his shoulder in the direction of Mumbo’s van. TFC followed his gaze, and burst into laughter again.

Mumbo was standing a few feet away from his campfire, spinning in circles and doubling over in laughter as Pearl kept popping up in front of him. 

Scar pushed himself up from his chair, TFC followed suit. The pair headed to the door while Grian flew back down, Scar giving TFC a sort of briefing. “Alright, let’s go figure out what exactly Mumbo did before Pearl starts feeling particularly vengeful.”

-

It took two hours and a lot of trial and error (with TFC giving supremely unhelpful tips), but eventually Pearl could stand behind Mumbo again. At some point Scar accidentally applied the effect to both Grian and Mumbo, and he had to beg the two not to create a space time anomaly. But it was all fixed now, and TFC was sure Pearl’s revenge would be swift and cruel.

Scar made his way back up to the balcony, and the two continued their conversation. It was a good thing Scar had enchanted his mugs, something he had done back in season seven after his drinks kept getting abandoned and going cold.

After a few hours of peace (other than both Mumbo and Grian’s bases abruptly flipping upside down while the boys were inside), the pair was interrupted again by a voice behind them.

“Howdy, Scar. Oh, and howdy to you as well, TFC!”

Neither of them had heard Joe coming, so Scar jumped about a foot in the air while TFC nearly spat out his tea. It turned out that Cleo was there as well, looking quite a bit angrier than Joe, although that wasn’t too uncommon.

“Oh my goodness, Joe you scared the life out of me!” Scar held a hand to his chest and caught his breath as Cleo got right to business.

“Sorry about that Scar,” her voice was flat, and it was safe to assume that she was not, in fact, sorry about that. “But we have an emergency. It’s completely Joe’s fault, he-”

Joe smoothly stepped in front of his companion as he cut her off, “I wouldn’t say it’s entirely my fault, old magic is a fickle thing-”

Cleo shoved Joe aside, stepping in front once again. “He revived my leg!” She raised a foot off the ground and gestured at it with both hands.

Sure enough, both TFC and Scar looked down to see that Cleo’s right leg was significantly more flesh-coloured than the left, restored to what it presumably once was. 

Scar’s lingering panic was instantly replaced by an amused grin as he gestured to the leg in question. “Cleo, why don’t you just get your leg reinfected? It’s not like zombies are hard to come by.”

The pair stood still, just blinking. (Completely in sync, it was eerie) 

Cleo rounded on Joe and punched at his shoulder just as he raised a hand to deflect her fist. “How did you not think of that Joe?! I thought you knew everything there was to know about-” She gestured wildly about for a moment. “Everything?!”

“Shouldn’t you be some sort of zombie expert by now? How is that my responsibility?” The argument continued as the pair went back into the wagon and down the ladder. As they walked off, presumably to go find a cave, something occurred to TFC. He cupped his hands around his mouth to yell down at them.

“Cleo!” She turned around. “Don’t use Joe as bait!” 

She snapped her finger like a defeated cartoon villain, as Joe turned to face her and presumably gave her grief for this evil plot.

-

It was only about five minutes after Cleo and Joe left (preceded by twenty minutes of arguing) that the next problem arrived, as it often did, in the form of Zedaph, Impulse, and Tango arriving on the shore of the village. TFC found this odd, seeing as how everyone was now connected by nether portals, but he assumed there would be an explanation shortly, even if it didn’t make a lick of sense.

Impulse shouted up from the ground, the three of them clustered near the front of the wagon. “TFC, we need your help!” Well that was a surprise, not many people asked for his assistance other than Scar. “We made an oopsie and Cleo said we could find you here!”

As every hermit knew, ‘oopsie’ was a versatile word with these three. It could mean anything between making a minor mistake in a build to banishing Impulse for the fifth time. “What happened this time?” TFC stood up and made his way down the ladder, since shouting down at them wasn’t very efficient and they didn’t seem inclined to come up.

Impulse started twisting his hands together while Zedaph and Tango tried their best to look innocent behind him. It didn’t work. “Weeell, Tango wanted a terraforming job done around his base, so we made a little deal for it.” 

Oh boy. Not much good came out of magical deals, yet the other hermits continued to make them with each other. Demonic deals were especially tricky since the demon didn’t have precise control over their end of the deal, not that it stopped these three. “Tango offered me his first beacon in exchange for the job, and it turns out that a beacon is worth a lot more than I thought- it’s probably easier if we show you.”

“Quick FYI guys: firsts are very valuable in deals! It applies to you as well Impulse, not just the fae!” Scar called helpfully from his still seated position on the balcony.

-

They all ended up going over to Tango’s house/ shop, which was literally buried in a mound of dirt and stone, along with about three quarters of Bdubs’ giant moon house. That explains why they didn’t use the nether. 

The earth was offended after being touched by demonic magic, but after a long negotiation TFC managed to convince it that Impulse meant no harm, and it was happy to return to its prior state. Tango was mildly annoyed that he would have to do the terraforming himself and give Impulse a beacon, but it was better than the wrath he would have faced from Bdubs.

By the time TFC and Scar returned to the Boatem village, the sun was starting to dip below the horizon. While TFC admired the beauty of it, Scar just looked disappointed. 

“I’m sorry.”

TFC raised an eyebrow at the wizard, a frown making its way onto his face. “What do you mean you’re sorry? Did you do something to the tea?” 

Despite TFC’s attempted joke, Scar still stared at his perfectly polished shoes. “This was supposed to be a nice relaxing day to catch up, and people were just showing up left and right. I mean, we hardly got to spend any time together! Maybe I shouldn’t invite people over with all this wizard stuff going on.”

“But we did spend time together.” TFC’s rough hand landed on Scar’s shoulder, the latter looking up at the former, startled by the contact.

“Well yeah we had tea for a while but-”

TFC had to cut off Scar’s rambling or he would never get to his point. “Yes we had tea, but I’m talking about the rest of the day.” Scar seemed genuinely confused at this. “I helped you un-curse Pearl,” he did air quotes on the word ‘helped,’ “We watched Joe and Cleo argue together, and you came with us to fix Tango’s house.” Of course he didn’t do much other than laugh at Tango’s misfortune, but it was the thought that counted. “Just ‘cause it didn’t go to plan doesn’t mean I didn’t have a good time.” After all, not much went according to plan on the hermitcraft server.

Now Scar was smiling. “So I didn’t ruin the day with magical misfits?”

“Not at all.” TFC reached for his mug and emptied it one last time, then stretched before heading out. “But now I gotta get going. I don’t like my chances against the mobs with my crappy iron gear.”

Scar waved once more as TFC disappeared into the nether portal. “Goodnight TFC! And thanks again, for everything!”

TFC smiled as he made his way through the nether tunnels back home. Scar did a lot more for the hermits than he realized, allowing them to be free with their magic in a way they couldn’t back home, TFC included. He’d created a home for all sorts of ‘magic misfits’ as Scar put it, and he performed an invaluable service, whether he realized it or not.

He’s a good kid. Just needs some reminding every once in a while. 

[ladyboltontoyou]

Arthur Morgan x Reader: Farmer’s Daughter. 3

Ask: OH MY GOD IMAGINE THE READER IS A GIRL FROM A GOOD FAMILY, SHES WITH ARTHUR FOR A WHILE NOW, THE PARENTS WANT TO MEET HIM. THEY’RE HAVING FAMILY DINNER AND THE COWBOY MAN JUST CANT KEEP HIS HANDS TO HIMSELF UNDER THE TABLE oh my god if your request are open and you would write that i would probably, most likely die...oh btw i love the “farmer’s daughter” story OH MY GOD MAYBE THIS COULD BE THE NEXT PART AAAAAAAAH SHIT! okay okay i’m sorry i just got excited! love your writing, have a great day!

Warnings: Cursing, probably. Slightly public sex, ya get fingered at dinner ok? 

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader

A/N: YEEHAW MY FELLOW SLUTS! ENJOY! Also, idk what they called panties back then so I just went with panties, ok? 

Two months later and you had fallen completely in love with the man. You both had told yourselves you wouldn’t let it get that far but it was nearly impossible. Every time you would see each other he had something to give you, be it a new drawing of yourself, wildflowers he had found out in the woods, or some suspiciously expensive jewelry that he wouldn’t talk about.

He hadn’t planned on any of it, really, but multiple times a day he would see something that reminded him of you and he just knew he had to take it. Even the jewelry he had stolen from the folks who were unlucky enough to start a fight with him.

After a while of successfully sneaking around the day came you’d both been expecting. Your father caught him. 

It wasn’t in the way you’d thought it would happen, thankfully. He didn’t walk in on the two of you or catch Arthur climbing up to your room or sneaking out of it. It was more subtle and less suspicious. The two of you, like the fools you were, were out in broad daylight at the stables on your property. You would go out there regularly to spend time with your horse so you knew your parents wouldn’t question you being down there. 

You should have known being that comfortable sneaking around was just asking to be caught. And sure enough, you were.

“(Y/N)? Who is this?”

You fucking twitched. When you turned around you saw your father standing behind you with a look of concern on his face and one of the stable boys watching the whole thing go down. You had given him some money earlier to keep his mouth shut and he sure was getting more than he asked for.

“Howdy mister!” Arthur waved and stepped past you. “Remember me? I stopped by here a while back to ask for some directions.”

Your father squinted and reluctantly shook his hand. Suddenly realization spread across his features as it all clicked. “Oh! Yes!” He laughed and clapped Arthur’s shoulder. “How have you been? Ever find your way?”

“Sure did, thanks to you. I was in town and was asking around, looking to buy some good horses, and a few folks told me you were the man to talk to.” You looked at Arthur with parted lips, in shock at how good of a liar he was. He turned a potential disaster into the most casual and normal interaction without the slightest effort. It was kind of scary.

Your father laughed and nodded, crossing his arms proudly. “You’ve come to the right place, follow me.” 

Arthur tossed you a wink and you had to smile then, dumbfounded by how smoothly the whole thing went.

***

After your father had whisked Arthur away to the expensive section of your stables you went back home. Your mother was preparing dinner along with one of the ranch hands, which surprised you. When you questioned why he was there she explained he was making his mother’s famous gumbo, your mother insisted upon it after she had sent some over to your family. 

When dinner rolled around your father made it back just in time, a surprise guest at his heels. 

“Jane, you remember this man, don’t you? He was the fellow on the white horse who asked for directions to-”

“Of course I do!” She wiped her hands with a kitchen rag, walking into the main room where the two men stood. 

You stood up from the kitchen table to watch the whole thing play out, locking eyes with Arthur who just shrugged.

“He came down today to buy a horse from us!” Your father said as he closed the front door behind them. “And to congratulate him on his purchase I’ve invited him to stay for dinner.”

Your mother smiled happily, it wasn’t often you had visitors that weren’t your families prude friends or relatives. “Good! We’re having gumbo tonight, Thomas is cooking his mother’s very own recipe.”

“Oh!” Your father raised his brows. “The one she sent over yesterday?”

“That’s the one.” 

“Brilliant! I loved that.” 

The two of them talked for a while before Thomas announced the soup was done and your mother went back into the kitchen to help him serve. Your father excused himself to wash up, telling you and his guest to have a seat in the dining room.

You sat down next to Arthur and gave him a look. 

“What?” When he finally noticed you looking at him he furrowed his brows.

“How did you manage that?”

“Manage what?”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Come on. You’re the best liar I’ve ever met.”

Arthur shrugged, taking the glass of water that Thomas set down in front of him.

 “You must not of met a lot of people then.”

“All right, then. Keep your secrets.” 

He chuckled and set the glass back down on the table after taking a few generous sips. “Before we almost got ourselves killed, I was going to give you somethin’.” Another gift? He reached in his pocket and pulled out a small folded piece of paper. “Don’t let anyone see that.” He added with a whisper since Thomas had walked in with the rest of the drinks. 

You smiled at him and slowly unfolded the paper in your lap under the table. Once you had it done you squinted before realizing it was upside down. You flipped it the right way and your face was suddenly burning. Your breath caught in your throat as you took it all in, quickly folding it back up when your mother walked into the room carrying the giant pot of soup. 

The urge to punch him was strong. Why did he have to give that to you then? Why couldn’t he wait? You slipped the paper in the front pocket of your dress and cleared your throat. 

Arthur chuckled and took another sip of water, smiling sweetly at your mother as she started filling everyone's bowls. “Thank you, ma’am.” 

It was impossible to get the image out of your head. It was a drawing of you, completely naked, lying on your stomach with your head resting on your folded arms, your legs kicked up and locked at the ankles. You were looking directly into the viewer’s eyes with a wicked smirk on your face, some of your hair in your face. Once again you looked utterly magnificent, your body drawn in a way that accentuated every part of you perfectly. If it wasn’t a drawing of you, you probably would have gotten off to it. You probably would anyway, knowing Arthur was the one who drew it.

“What horse did you end up buying, Mr…”

“Arthur. The young brown mustang, think your husband called him Taro.”

Your mother nodded and sat down at the opposite end of the table when she was finally done serving. You wished she would let you help with dinner but she was firm in her belief, not allowing you or your father to help her in the slightest.

It was another ten minutes before your father finally joined you, taking his seat beside his wife. “Please excuse me, got carried away with my hair again.” He laughed and eagerly started eating. Your mother shared a laugh with him, chiding him lightly about how vain he was.

Most of dinner was fine, you all talked about the usual dinner subjects such as work, the weather, and town gossip. You barely paid attention though, the image of you drawn naked was stuck in your mind, along with the idea of Arthur drawing it. You wondered if he had done it in the heat of a lust filled moment or if it was just something normal to him.

What finally snapped you out of your thoughts was the feeling of a hand on your knee. You brushed it off at first, it seemed innocent enough, he had done it plenty of times before when the two of you laid together. It wasn’t inherently sexual.

But then he moved his hand lower, brushing his fingers against the hem of your dress. You looked at him with a subtle glance but he refused to acknowledge you at all. 

Crossing your legs you tried to get him to stop but that didn’t deter the cowboy at all. He pulled your dress up just enough to slip his hand under the fabric, then let the hem fall back down over his arm. You wanted to curse him out but you held your tongue and tried to act as natural as possible, taking another spoonful of soup into your mouth. 

“So, Arthur, you never told us what you do for a living.” Your father said after sending one of the kitchen maids to bring out a bottle of wine.

His hand traveled up to your thighs, his fingers gently rubbing circles over your skin. “Oh, well, it’s nothin’ excitin’. I work for a man collecting debts from people. Good money.”

“Oh!” Your father acted impressed, shrugging and exchanging a look with your mother. 

“If that isn’t exciting, I wonder what is to you!” Your mother laughed and so did your father.

‘Maybe fingering your daughter five feet away from you.’ You thought as you shifted in your seat, thankful for how high the table was. If it was any lower surely they would see that the lower half of his arm was extended towards you.

Slowly, extremely slowly, his hand continued it’s journey upwards. You forced yourself to keep a straight face, even when you felt the tips of his fingers brush against your panties. ‘No problem,’ you told yourself, feeling him pull the fabric aside so he could touch you better. ‘No big deal.’

Arthur rubbed slow circles into your clit with a firm amount of pressure, but not quick or firm enough to get you anywhere fast. And he knew it, too. He ate his second bowl of soup just as normally as he did the first, showing no signs of the fact that his fingers were about to be stuffed inside of you. 

You liked to think you looked just as calm as he did. You had finished your soup and were waiting for everyone else to so your mother could bring out dessert, and then you could finally leave the table. If only Arthur would hurry up and finish his meal. 

The small talk carried on and left almost no silence which worked to your advantage. If they were quiet they probably would hear how fast your breathing had gotten, especially when Arthur pushed that first finger inside of you. You had to practically bite through your tongue to keep the moan silenced. 

“(Y/N), you’re quiet, for once. Are you sick?” Your father joked and everyone laughed, including Arthur. That bastard. 

“I’m fine, just like listening to you all talk.” You said quickly, surprised at how even and calm your voice sounded. Almost as if you weren’t being finger fucked. 

That seemed to satisfy them enough and they carried on with conversation.

Normally at dinner, you rarely drank any wine, since you were never able to just have one glass. It always led to two, or sometimes even three, and you would end up passed out on your bed hours before you usually would. But tonight you happily drank, finishing the second glass right as Arthur had two fingers curling inside of you. 

As hard as you tried not to let yourself orgasm you could feel it approaching rapidly. Arthur could too, noting how your chest rose and fell and how you were twitching around his fingers. He slowed down momentarily, allowing you to catch your breath, before he was right back at it, quicker than before. He had a hard-on of his own but with his belt and gun holster in the way, no one would have the slightest idea, even if they looked right at his crotch. Lucky him.

“Are we ready for dessert?” Your mother's voice scared you out of your wits and you jumped. 

“Yes!” You laughed to draw attention away from the fact that you almost spilled your wine. 

She left along with the kitchen maid, directing her to get together new sets of dishes. 

His fingers curled quicker as he sipped on his wine, keeping his eyes anywhere but your father or you. Your father kept up the small talk, allowing you to give yourself the time to focus on having a discreet and quiet orgasm. 

You slowed your breathing as you felt it coming, gripping Arthur’s arm under the table with your left hand as you curled your other hand into a fist around your dress. He looked down at you for a split second, savoring the sight of you as best as he could before he forced himself to look away as to not look suspicious. He gave you a few more deep pumps before you came. The heat and tingles exploded, rippling from your clit and inside your body to your entire form. You bit your lip and looked down, sinking your nails into the skin of his arm. The waves of pleasure that coursed through your body were enough to make anyone scream but you kept your mouth shut and posture still. 

When it finally finished you sat back in your seat, running a hand through your hair as you sighed, wiping the sweat off your forehead when your father wasn't looking. Arthur smirked at you and you threw him the angriest glare you could, but you couldn’t keep it for long. When he chuckled you broke out into a smile and you had to look away so you didn’t laugh.

“Here it is!” Your mother said proudly as she carried the pecan pie into the dining room. “Took me all day!” 

Arthur made a show of looking impressed and your father praised your mother's cooking to no end, telling her that she was the best cook in the whole west. She smiled proudly and served everyone's plates. Thank god you had already came and Arthur’s hand was back where it belonged.

“I’m going to make you regret that.” You whispered to Arthur as your mother talked about how hard it was to find enough pecans. 

“Lookin’ forward to it.”

[softupshur]

The Lord Rejoices: Chapter 12

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Ao3 link if you’re into that kind of thing

~Updates every Sunday~ During Temple Gate’s founding years, Marta nears womanhood and wonders of God’s plan for her.

Chapter 12:

Another month passed when Marta saw Paige and Otis outside of mass.

It was not uncommon for Knoth to visit newlyweds within such time to offer counsel. Marta seldom accompanied him on these visits, but the week before, he had extended the invitation, which she gladly accepted. Together, they travelled to the lake. Marta brought a dessert along while Knoth arrived empty-handed.

Paige and Otis lived in the smallest home at the end of the docks, edging the wilderness. A rickety gate circled the yard where a few of Paige’s chickens wandered, although most of them retired to their coops as the sun set.

A mixture of Otis’s fishing supplies and Seth’s toys littered the front yard, which Marta nearly stepped on.

Otis sat on the porch, cleaning his catch of the day, while Seth rammed his wooden toys together. He mimicked crashing sounds on impact, only looking up when Knoth cast a shadow over him.

“Howdy, Papa!” Seth shot up and waved at Knoth.

Knoth chuckled. “Hello, Seth. What have you got there?”

“These are my new toys!” Seth presented the battered horses. “Their names are Jorgie and Harry! They’re fightin' over who gets the pot of gold!”

“This gold here?” Knoth asked of an ear of corn at Seth’s feet.

As Seth gasped, Otis dropped the fish bones and ran to them. “Seth,” He placed his hands on Seth’s shoulders and took a step back. “What did I tell you about pestering Kno...Papa?”

Seth kicked at the dirt. “That he’s a busy man and not to bother ‘im too much.”

“That’s right.” Keeping his hold on Seth, Otis bowed his head. “My apologies. You don’t need to worry about humoring him.”

“Nonsense, he’s not bothering me in the least,” Knoth assured.

Seth craned his neck to look up at Otis. “See, I told you!”

“Yes, but—”

Seth broke free and tugged on Knoth’s hand to lead him around the yard and point out other toys scattered on the ground. Each came with an elaborate backstory.

Otis turned to Marta. “Good to see you,” he said through a sigh.

“Thank you. I’m glad I could come. Much time has passed,” Marta said.

“Too much. I don’t remember the last time I saw someone my age. It’s either Paige and Seth or those crusty old fishermen.”

“Are the fishers really so bad?”

Otis shuddered. “They made me noodle.”

“What’s that?”

He held up a bandaged hand. “You don’t want to know.”

“Is that going to be okay?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Otis then looked at the dessert. “You wanna set that down?”

“Oh, yes, that would be nice.”

“Then you can go ahead inside. Paige is working on dinner right now. I’m sure she’d like to say hi before we all sit down.”

“Oh, okay.” Marta started for the house. She stopped, waiting for Otis to follow, but he remained on the porch, never looking away from Seth and Knoth. He didn’t hear her sigh as she opened the front door.

Thomas greeted her first. He rubbed against her legs, meowing loudly.

“Hello, Thomas,” Marta said.

He plopped in front of her and meowed louder.

“I’m sorry. I don’t have any food.”

Narrowing his eyes, Thomas got up and trotted off.

Marta followed him into the kitchen and set down the dessert. There, Paige rearranged the table settings while waiting on the stove. She only noticed Marta when Thomas meowed.

“Oh!” Paige flinched. “I didn’t know you were joining us tonight.”

“...Is that a problem?”

“Not at all.” Paige hopped on a stool to reach a spice on the top shelf. “I’m actually relieved you’re here. It means Papa can be trusted to remain decent.”

“Oh...right…” Marta’s eyes drifted to the floor.

“Could I bother you to help me finish dinner?” Paige asked. “I had hoped to be done by now, but Seth was causing a ruckus.”

“Yes, I saw him playing in the yard.” Marta joined Paige in chopping vegetables. “Are you two watching him for the day?”

Paige huffed. “He’s living with us. Otis thought it would be best. I didn’t think his parents would actually agree to it.”

“You don’t seem too happy with this arrangement.”

“That child is a menace. I don’t know how Otis could keep up with him and not lose his cool.”

“Are children really so difficult?”

“They are when they have Seth’s energy,” Paige slammed the salad bowl onto the table. Only after taking a deep breath did she settle and ask about Marta.

“No better nor worse than before. Things are the same,” Marta answered.

“That’s good, isn’t it?”

“Perhaps...I’m not so sure.”

“You should enjoy it while you can,” Paige said. “A day will come when you wish things were still simple and routine. Don’t take it for granted.”

The door opened before Marta could answer.

“We best hurry,” Paige said in a hushed tone.

They finished preparing dinner while Seth’s rambling filled the house. Occasionally Knoth or Otis would make a comment over Seth. Minutes later, the table was set and food divided.

Paige went into the living room to interrupt the conversation. “Dinner is ready!”

“Oh boy, food!” Seth shot to his feet and sprinted to the kitchen.

“C’mon!” Paige hurried past Knoth and took Otis by his arm, “I made your favorite fish fry tonight!” She dragged him along without a word to Knoth.

“Oh, thank you,” Otis muttered as he took his seat between Paige and Seth.

Trailing behind, Knoth joined Marta’s side, motioning for her to sit before taking the seat beside her.

“Otis, lead us in prayer tonight,” Knoth said.

“Oh...sure.”

Everyone joined hands and bowed their heads.

“Our Father who art in Heaven. I ask that You bless this meal set before us. I thank You for allowing us the good fortune to have food on our table and ask that You continue to bless us. Amen.”

“Amen.”

They all started their dinner, except for Otis, who worked on cutting Seth’s portion into bite-sized pieces.

“This is very good,” Knoth said. “Thank you, Paige.”

Paige forced a smile. “Thank you kindly, Papa,” she said sweetly, though she immediately turned her gaze to her plate, picking pieces of meat from her salad.

“You’re a lucky man, Otis,” Knoth commented. “Your woman makes a fine meal and keeps a good home from the looks of it.”

Though small, the space was plenty clean with the exception of Seth’s toys. Paige brought along the embroidery and afghans from the Larsen Farm to make the new home just as cozy.

“Yes, she’s really made this place feel like a home,” Otis said.

“It’s just a shame it’s so little. There will need to be more room when you start having children.”

Otis winced. “Isn’t it a bit soon to be thinking about that? We’re just settling in, and we can always add onto the house if need be.”

Knoth didn’t skip a beat. “You can never think too soon on spreading your family seed. God very well could bless your wife with a fertile womb. You must be prepared.”

“Is this really good table conversation?” Otis blurted out loud enough for the others to look up and stare. He swallowed a lump in his throat before continuing. “There are women and children here…”

“What does that matter?” Knoth asked easily. “This is all only normal now that you’re a married man.”

Seth tugged on Otis’s sleeve. “If you and Paige had a baby, that'd make me an uncle, right?”

Otis was about to respond, but cut short when Paige placed her hand atop his, her tone icy. “We have been trying for a child, but you must understand that it is still too soon to know.”

“That is true,” Knoth conceded. “I suppose it is too early to tell if you are with Otis’s child.” Though he maintained eye contact with Paige, his hand wandered to Marta’s upper leg underneath the table. “When that time comes, I trust you will bear your husband many fine children.” His expression didn’t change as his hand moved slightly higher.

Marta attempted to cross her legs to escape his hold, but Knoth applied enough pressure to keep her leg down.

“You will be the first to know,” Paige said as she returned to her meal, breaking the eye contact.

Knoth’s hand remained there the rest of dinner.

At several points, Marta attempted to meet Paige’s gaze, but Paige never looked up except to speak with Otis. It wasn’t until Paige went to clear the table that Marta was able to escape Knoth’s hold and help with the dishes.

Once they finished, Paige hurried back to Otis’s side and latched herself onto his arm while seeing Knoth and Marta out. But before they said their good nights, Paige cried out.

“Oh no, the pen!”

The rickety gate had cracked open just enough for the chickens to roam free. Most of them headed for the docks, but several sat on the porch. A few even wandered all the way to the beach.

“Seth!” Paige spun around and glared him down. “Did you leave the gate open again!? How many times have we told you to close and lock it when you’re done?!”

“It’s okay! I’ll go get’em!” Seth picked up a stick and bolted to the docks.

Sighing, Otis followed.

“Would you mind getting the ones at the beach?” Paige asked Marta.

“Sure…” Marta walked to the shoreline. The chickens pecked at the ground, clucking when they only got a beakful of sand. “Come on,” Marta grumbled.

When one went the proper direction, the other branched another way. Marta would chase the errant chicken back to the path only for the companion to wander astray. After a few minutes, she snatched one. Adjusting, Marta held onto the chicken the way she had seen Paige do it.

In Paige’s arms, the chicken would relax and coo, but with Marta it wriggled and clawed. Marta tightened her grip enough to steady it. When the chicken stilled, Marta looked up. Paige and Otis had already gathered their chickens and rejoined each other’s side. They seemed to speak almost pleasantly to one another with Knoth out of earshot.

After swallowing a lump in her throat, Marta journeyed forward, holding strong to the chicken.

Paige shrieked.

“What did you do to Georgette?!”

“Huh...what do you…?” Marta looked down and saw the chicken hung limp in her arms, its head rolled back and beak hanging open. She tossed it away and stepped back.

“What’s going on?” Otis turned and froze when he saw the dead chicken.

“What is it?” Seth trailed behind. He gasped at the scene. “Wow! Is it dead? I wanna touch it!” He toddled over, stick in hand, but Otis pulled him back.

“What did you do?” Paige asked, her fists clenched.

“I didn’t mean to,” Marta stepped back. “I...I must have held too tight. It was an accident. I swear.”

“How do you accidentally kill Georgette?!”

“Paige.” Otis gave her a serious look. “Not now.”

“Why not!? Georgette is—” She cut short when she heard Knoth’s footsteps approaching and scurried to join Otis.

Passing Paige by, Knoth stared at the dead chicken at Marta’s feet. He said nothing. Nonetheless, Marta’s eyes watered.

“I-I’m sorry,” Marta choked out. “I didn’t mean to. I swear to you that this was an accident. I would never commit such a sin on purpose. You know I wouldn’t. I—”

Still, his expression remained the same. Even as he outstretched his arms towards her. “Come, child.”

Marta stepped forward at first, but froze. She looked into Knoth’s eye for only a moment before she turned her back to him. None saw the tears that escaped.

[bluehairedyoong-blog]

Had Him At Hello

Summary - Jimin goes to a coffee shop and gets special coffee's for free and he isn't sure who is buying them for him 

or

Coffee cups are flirting with Jimin

Genre - fluff

A/N - HI IM BACK WITH FLUFF AND NOT SMUT YOU CAN THANK MY GIRLFRIEND FOR THIS Originally I thought of doing this with Vhope but ultimately decided against it when my lovely girlfriend asked for a jikook fluff SO Here you go! I hope you enjoy! I take requests!

Jimin sits at a table in the warm coffee shop, book open and glasses perched on his nose and safe from the rainy weather outside. He’s absorbed in his reading, and being absorbed by his sweater, as his coffee sits on the table cooling down and almost finished. Jimin reaches out for his drink only to find that it’s almost empty and, while still reading, he finishes it off. He sighs and sets his empty cup down a bit further away from him, telling himself he would toss it out and get a new one after he finished his page. Much to his dismay, he had gotten sucked into the book once more and left the long forgotten cup where it was.

“Excuse me sir,” Jimin heard a voice and looked up from his book, a sweater pawed hand pushing his glasses up a bit in the process, “someone ordered you this.”

The barista that had made his way over to Jimin, was offering him a cup of coffee. Specifically an Americano, as written on the side facing him, one of his favorites but not what he had just finished. A confused smile made its way onto Jimin’s face as he took the cup.

“Can I ask who?”

“I’m sorry, but he said he didn’t wish to be pointed out. But if you ask me, he is your type.” The barista smiled at him and turned back around to return to his work. Jimin had been coming to this coffee place long enough that some of the employees could gauge what men he went for, and he isn’t sure if he is flattered or creeped out.

Upon turning the cup to take a sip he found something more written on the other side, nothing but the word ‘Hi’ and Jimin found himself smiling again. He looked around to see if anyone might be watching him but deemed he himself alone. He shrugged, took a sip, and continued reading.

-

The following day, Jimin wasn’t expecting anything at all. He simply thought that it was a nice guy who just thought he was cute, it wasn’t the first time someone had carelessly flirted with him. So he sat at the same table, his usual spot unless someone beat him to it, textbook open and glasses on once more. This time his comfortable sweater replaced by a t-shirt and jeans.  However his calm relaxed atmosphere was completely gone, replaced by stress and frustration as he stared down at the words in his textbook. He was a literature major for Christ’s sake! Why should he need this science class anyways? His coffee stood in front of his book, half gone within the first few minutes of receiving it. This time a standard latte, he needed all the energy he could get and a fancy drink would not help him. A stressed hand pulls through his hair and he lets out a disgruntled sigh.

Jimin had finished his coffee ten minutes ago but simply had not had the time to spare to get another one right away. And as if someone had read his mind, the same barista from yesterday walked over and set a caramel macchiato, another favorite, down onto his table. Jimin looked up to the barista, who shrugged.

“Same guy.”

A smile appeared on Jimin’s face, even through all the stress, and he turned the cup to reveal ‘Hey’ written on the side. Studying was going to be a little easier for him now.

-

Throughout the week Jimin continued to show up at the cafe, and once he even brought Taehyung with him to explain the coffee gifts. Each time he was there he was met with a new coffee, all which he enjoyed, and each time he received a new phrase. ‘Yo’ ‘Hiya’ ‘Sup’ and the one he received with taehyung ‘Howdy’ which made Jimin bust into a fit of giggles.

Finally after about a week of these coffees, Jimin decided he was going to find out who was buying him these coffees. So there he sat, once more being swallowed whole by a sweater with a book in hand and cookie on table, watching each time someone went up to the counter.

After what seemed like hours (it was only like thirty minutes), Jimin watched an attractive man stand up and walk over to where you order. But much to Jimin’s dismay, the attractive boy was given a coffee and sat back down. Jimin had decided he should just give up, and he would accept the coffee from his mystery boy without trying to find him. But then the barista walked over to him with a coffee, Jimin’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. Was today his lucky day? He took the cup, thanking the barista, and turned it over. ‘Hello’ written in thick sharpie on the side of his cup. Jimin closed his book, picked up the coffee and walked over to the attractive boy’s table seeing as he was the last person to order. The attractive boy had his laptop open and earbuds in, so when Jimin sat himself down directly across from the attractive boy he was a bit startled. Attractive boy pulled out one earbud and looked at Jimin, pausing his music. Jimin smiled softly and spun his cup around.

“So would you happen to be mystery boy?”

A shy smile was passed to the boy across from Jimin, a hesitant nod as he closed his laptop.

“Yeah.. uh that was me… I’m Jeokgguk, Jeon Jeongguk” the attractive boy, Jeongguk, blushed a bit and looked at Jimin.

“Park Jimin.” a sweater paw was extended out to Jeongguk, who took it with a wider bunny-like smile and shook it.

-

The two boys had spent over an hour after that just talking. About themselves and what they did, just getting to know one another.

Jimin learned that apparently Jeongguk had been showing up at the cafe a little after Jimin every day on accident, but found him cute and kept coming. He also learned that it took him a lot to send the first coffee, and he truly only knew what Jimin liked because he had asked the barista. Both boys went to the same university, Jeongguk being just a year younger, but hardly crossed paths with each other since Jeongguk was majoring in music production and the buildings for literature are on the other side of campus.

Unfortunately, their time had ended too quick and Jimin had to get back to his apartment. Jeongguk however was not going to let him disappear so fast, and offered to walk him home. Halfway through the walk Jeongguk looked over to Jimin.

“Hyung.. Would you like to maybe go out with me?” a blush settling on the younger’s cheeks as he tried his best to not show his anxiety.

“I would really like that Jeongguk-ah.. But only if you hold my hand till we get to my place.” a mischievous grin was plastered onto Jimin’s face as he watched Jeongguk blush a bit more and grab his hand. Jimin laced their fingers and continued to walk. They talked more until reaching Jimin’s apartment.

“You’ll be okay getting back to your place right?” Jimin asked after the two had exchanged numbers, concern evident in his voice.

“Don’t worry hyung, I’ll be okay,” Jeongguk smiled, “And I will even text you once I’m back. How’s that?”

“That sounds good. Thank you.” Jimin mirrored his smile. Jeongguk waved as Jimin went inside, and turned to head back home.

-

For their first date they had decided on something easy, still getting to know one another over text and also battling their university schedules. After some work, they had managed to find time to meet up and both had agreed on getting ice cream, but Jeongguk insisted he would buy.

They sat outside the small ice cream parlour, eating and talking about their days. Jeongguk would often try and make Jimin laugh, he loved seeing his hyung’s eyes turn into crescents and his head fall back as a hand came up to half cover his giant grin. Jimin would pull what he could to make Jeongguk blush, being that he learned over a few days texting that Jeongguk liked to act tough and untouchable sometimes. Jeongguk always broke for Jimin though.

After eating, Jimin had invited Jeongguk over to his apartment after sending Taehyung a text to get the hell out. Jeongguk was not ready to meet Tae if Jimin had any say in it.

-

“This is my place. Oh! Taehyung was nice enough to pick up a bit too.” Jimin let Jeongguk inside.

Taehyung was always the messier one of the two roommates.

“It’s nice I like it!” Jeongguk said after taking off his coat and looking around.

“I like you…” Jimin thought aloud, eyes immediately going wide as a giggle erupted from him.

“I- I didn’t mean to say.. To say that,” more giggles, “No, I meant it but I didn’t mean to say it aloud.”

Jeongguk only smiled and laughed a bit with the shorter boy. He decided this was his chance to move a bit forward with their relationship.

“That’s okay hyung, I like you too.” a soft smile on Jeongguk’s face as he wrapped a hand around Jimin’s wrist and tugged him close, chests almost colliding. He looked down at Jimin, his free hand coming up to cup Jimin’s cheek and letting his thumb run softly under Jimin’s eye. The older’s breath hitched a little at the sudden mood change. Both of Jimin’s hands now rested lightly on the taller’s chest, and Jeongguk let go of Jimin’s wrist to circle his waist and rest on his lower back.

“Hyung, is it okay if I kiss you?”

“Please…” and instantly Jimin’s lips met Jungkook in a soft kiss.

They kissed slow and easy, Jimin the first to pull back so he could push Jeongguk to sit on the couch. Jimin straddled the younger’s lap and cupped Jeongguk’s face, kissing him again this time soft but more sure. Jeongguk let his hands rest on his hyung’s hips, nibbling slightly on Jimin’s bottom lip and causing a gasp. Jeongguk took this opportunity to slip his tongue into Jimin’s mouth, who only kissed back more. Jeongguk pulled back to regain his breath.

“Yeah.. I really like you hyung.” he grinned and was met with a matching grin from Jimin.

“Me too Jeongguk. I really like you too.” Jimin said before hugging Jeongguk and burrying his face in the younger’s neck.

[ask-a-robin]

Ice Queen and Cake - Jason Todd Imagine

Woo! Lord its been a while, I apologize for that! 

This imagine was requested here.

I hope everyone enjoys! 

~Mod Jaybird 

Warnings: Slight swearing

Word Count: 1,808 (Boy howdy is this a long one)

“Y/N! Come on babe we’re gunna be late! Bruce’s cake won’t make itself and Alfred’s already texted twice!”

“Gotcha,” you mumble as you extinguish a small flame from your hand, and climb out of the lower cupboard where you keep all of your baking supplies. “I’m coming don’t get your panties in a twist.”

You walk down the hallway from the kitchen and stop by the door to grab your jacket.

“What were you doing in there anyway? Sounded like an avalanche at one point,” Jason said as he held the front door open.

“My offset spatula fell out of my decorating bag and into the black depths of the cupboard,” You say as you walk through the threshold. “I had to go on a lifesaving mission.”

“Well it looks like it was successful.”

“Indeed!”

***

You head through the garage door and into the kitchen of Wayne Manor, stopping to place your decorating bag on the table and shed your coat.

“Miss Y/N, Master Jason. Glad to see you could join us!”

“The Chef does not enjoy the sass coming from her sous, Pennyworth, but I think I can forgive you,” you say as you pull your hair into a ponytail while walking over to give him a playful kiss on the cheek. “Jason, I love you, but get out of my kitchen, I have a masterpiece in the making.”

“Yes, Chef!” He said with a mock salute and a laugh. “I’ll go see what everyone else is up to.”

“All right Al, this double chocolate, Oreo truffle cake isn’t going to make itself. You start with the Oreos and I’ll start on the batter.”

“Oui, Chef,” the butler says with a smile.

You shake your head and sigh in response.

After a while of prepping and chatting with Alfred, Damian walks through the door.

“Hey Dami, whatcha up to?”

“Hello, Y/N. Todd and Drake are being insufferable so I decided to take a break up here, if it’s no bother to you.”  

“Go right ahead. You’re no bother to me and Alfred.”

The timer for the oven dings, and without a thought you reach in and take the pans straight from the oven.

“Y/N, did you just take those from the oven without mitts?”

You have a moment of enteral panic. Damn Y/N you really should be more careful with your powers around here.  “What? Uh…yeah I did, it’s not really I problem, I’ve burned myself so much over the past few years, it’s kind of like I’m immune,” you say with a chuckle, hopefully passing off the lie.

Damian gives you a look but lets the comment slide.

What you fail to notice is that he’s now watching you subtly from behind his book.

You come back to the cakes and slowly place your hand over the top of each one, using your powers to cool them down at a faster rate. The temperature of the air around you has gotten a bit chilly as a result of using your power so your breath comes out as a puff of fog. You glance quickly over to Damian to see if he noticed anything. He looks to be still engrossed in his book, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

“Hey Alfred do we have anymore sugar? I need just a touch more of the ganache.”

“Try the pantry Miss Y/N”

You head into the small room and begin to look around. While you’re doing this Damian raises from his seat and quickly makes his way to the cakes. His eye goes wide when he feels that they are completely cool even though they came out of the oven moments ago.  

You make your way out of the pantry as he begins to sit back down. You notice the look on his face, as if wheels are turning in his mind, you guess he must have read something intriguing in his book.

You head back to the counter to begin the final steps of the cake, being careful to not use any more of your powers during the process.

The cake was finally finished as you placed the last truffle on top. You take a step back and look at the masterpiece.

“Done,” you say wiping your hands on a dish rag.

“It looks fabulous Miss Y/N, I shall gather the troops into the living room and we’ll begin the celebration.”

“Okey dokey Al. I’ll start bringing everything in.”

You grab the plates, stick them under your arm and grab the cake stand. Right after you set everything down on the table, the boys enter the living room from wherever they were.

“Wow, Y/N, that looks amazing!” Dick said with a whistle.

“Thanks Dick! It was an idea I got from a friend with a few tweaks. It’s Bruce’s favorite, my double chocolate cake recipe filled with chocolate cookies and cream buttercream, covered in a chocolate ganache and decorated with cookies and cream buttercream florets and Oreo Truffles.”

“In other words…heart attack and clogged arteries with a side of diabetic coma,” Tim said with a smirk.

“Yupp,” you replied, popping the p at the end.

“It’s a special occasion,” Bruce said. “So a little sugar won’t hurt. Thank you, Y/N” He walked over and gave you a side hug with a thank you kiss to the temple. “I’m sure it’s wonderful as always.”

“Well. I think we should cut into this sucker. I want cake.”

“Hold your horses, Jay,” you said with a huff. You reach down to pass out the plates and realize that something was missing.

“Darn it, I forgot the forks. I’ll be right back.”

You head into the kitchen and grab the stack along with some napkins.

As you head out the door something feels off in the air around you, and then you place it. You feel the batarang make waves through the air as it soars toward your head. Instantly the cutlery in your hands falls to the floor and your instincts take over before you can stop them. A wall of ice erupts from your hands extending out in front of you successfully trapping the batarang a few inches from your face as well as the boy that launched the projectile at you.  

After a second you recover from what happened. “Well. Shit,” you sigh and head toward Damian. You stop about a foot away from his body. You take a breath and place your hands on the wall. As you begin to focus you can feel the heat starting to radiate out from your hands. The giant ice wall melts into a puddle that spans the ballroom.

You blow the patio doors open with a small push of your hands, and then begin to heat up the room so the water would turn to steam. As the last bits of fog dissipate through the door, you sigh and bend down to pick up the forks from the floor. When you come back up, you’re met with six stunned faces.

Jason is the first one to snap out of the stupefied gaze. “What in the ever-living hell was that, Y/N?” You could tell that he was getting slightly angry because his voice went a squeaky towards the end of his sentence.

“Um…. if you will hear me out for like five minutes this would be explained a lot better downstairs,” you say a nervous smile plastered on you face.

Bruce is the first one to speak, for some reason you feel like he already knows the story you’re about to tell. “By all means, then, Y/N. Lead the way.”

***

Once you reach the Batcomputer, you turn to face the boys and are met with another glaring silence. Those should really stop happening.

The chair turns and you start pulling up everything about your past life.

“The Elementalist? I remember her,” Dick said as he leaned against the chair. “Pretty sure she’s my age and worked with The Flash for a good chunk of time. She declined the invitation to join the Titans and the League, and then kinda fell off the grid.”

You sigh. “I didn’t fall off the grid, I left. I couldn’t take the life anymore, Barry started to get reckless and I knew nothing good would come of it. I wanted to start over. I left my day job as a geologist at STAR Labs and my night job as The Elementalist. I packed up, moved to Gotham, and went to pastry school. I always loved baking as a kid, so I tried it out.”

You get up out of the chair to look all the boys in the eye.

“Six months after I graduated I met Jason, six months after that I opened the bakery, and six months after than I found out about all this when he came through my window bleeding out at 3 in the morning. You guys are like my family, along with everyone in Central City. Just because I chose not to tell you about this doesn’t mean I lied about anything else.”

No one could meet your eyes after you finished speaking.

“Well…I’ll take that as a not so great sign. I’ll just be going, then. You don’t have to worry about anything. The secret is safe with me. Bye, guys.”

You turn and head to the stairs. Your foot lands on the bottom step when you feel a pressure on your wrist. You turn and almost slam you face into Jason’s. His hands move to grasp your face.

“I’m not going to lie, this is pretty crazy. And I’m only slightly-no-so-angry that you didn’t say anything, but that doesn’t mean I want you to leave. You’re my girlfriend and I love you whether you’re a Meta or not.”

He gave you a quick peck on the lips.

“Yeah, Y/N. You’re awesome and we don’t want you to leave either. You the next best computer person, besides me, of course,” Tim said with a chuckle. “I think its pretty cool that you can control all of the elements, it’s like Avatar, in real life!”

“I knew you were a cougar!” Dick said slapping you on the back as he walks up the stairs. “Let go eat some cake!”

The rest of the crew filed up the stairs, but Damian trailed behind. Jason gave you a look, and you motioned for him to head up the stairs.

After a few seconds the young boy spoke. “I apologize for acting odd to you today, Y/N. I just couldn’t shake a hunch that you were hiding something. I should have just asked instead of throwing projectiles.”

“You really should have, Dami. I would have had no problems telling you outright. But your apology is accepted. Let’s go eat some cake.”

“Very well,” he said as he began up the stairs. “I would like to request, if at all possible, that you not freeze me anymore. It was an uncomfortable experience.” 

You chuckle and rough up his hair as you pass by. “Only if you deserve it.”