#kitchen witch bitty

[friendlyneighborhoodslut]

The Roommate Agreement | 2-The Chaos Theory.

Pairing(s)/Tropes—Eventual Steve Harrington X Reader, slow burn/friends to lovers.

Summary—Reader gets a taste of the chaos that comes with the boys of Apartment 406D, and they offer her the solution to her problems.

Warnings/Extras—Strong language, bad parents, bugs, drinking and smoking, brief bar fight and mild violence. Drunk people being dumb. Steve and Reader shamelessly flirting. Eddie’s his weirdo self (we love him though). MDNI, 18+! Let me know if I missed anything!

MASTERLIST | | PREVIOUS PART | | NEXT PART

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

The smell of bacon mixes with the faint drift of three separate colonges, wafting through the apartment. I sit up out of my brother’s bed, feeling guilty that I took his bed and he slept on the couch. At the foot of the bed, a pair of fuzzy pink sweats and a matching sweater sit folded neatly. They’re clothes from my closet back at the Dorm, and I can tell by the meticulous fold that it’s my brother’s doing. I’m questioning his methods, wondering if he’s secretly been able to teleport this whole time, when a familiar feminine laugh echos down the hallway.

I quickly change and tie my hair up, practically sprinting down the hallway to the kitchen.

Daizy sits at the bar counter, coffee mug in hand, chatting it up with the boys. Steve cooks breakfast while Ben sits shoulder-to-shoulder with Daizy, working on his laptop. Eddie is in the living room, cleaning up beer cans and pizza boxes from after I went to bed last night.

“Bug! How dare you not call me last night?!” Daizy perks up.

I shudder. “I thought we agreed to let that nickname die,” I complain. “How’d you even find out I was here?”

“That nickname dies with me. And I called her,” Ben says casually, not looking up from the screen.

I shove him a bit but he is unwavering. I take a seat next to him.

“Bug, huh?” A sly smile cracks Steve’s features as he flips a sunny-side-up egg onto a plate, pushing it across the counter over to me. Our eyes meet and my face grows hot. I take the plate from him, staring down at it, and I wonder how he knew I’ll only eat my eggs sunny-side-up.

Maybe he’s a witch. It’d explain why he’s so pretty.

“She hates bugs, loathes them,” Daizy teases. “Been that way since birth,”

Daizy and I are three months, eighteen days, four hours and fifty-three seconds apart. Our moms are—were—best friends since high school, all the way up until her mom passed away two years ago from breast cancer. It was terminal by the time they found it. It must’ve unlocked a part of Daizy’s brain I suppose was hidden all this time, because since her mother’s passing she’s been to the doctor for ‘precautionary checks’ every Monday, without fail. She’s obsessed with it, to the point she ceases to function right for the rest of the week if she misses her appointment. Her biggest fear used to be deep water, but I don’t think it is anymore.

Daizy and my brother swear up and down that I’ve been scared of bugs since I could walk, but I swear I don’t remember being afraid of them until I accidentally stomped on a fire-ant hill when I was 5. They were everywhere, in my hair and on my eyelashes. I could see them, red blobs with antennas and six—disgusting—little legs, clouding my vision. I’d had itty-bitty bites that stung like hell for weeks all over my body, and my vendetta against ants specifically was forged during that time.

“How’d you get my clothes?” I ask Daizy because, let’s be honest, it was most definitely her that pulled off the heist. She’s like some sort of criminal mastermind.

“Got your roommate’s car towed then snuck in while she was distracted,” she tells me casually, chewing on some bacon.

Ben and I don’t flinch at Daizy’s usual temperament, but Steve’s eyebrows raise in a dumbfounded expression.

Eddie laughs from the living room. “I like her.”

“Where are you gonna go? Obviously not back to the Dorms, placements over,” Daizy recalls how I’d just barely cut it for getting placed with a roommate, because I didn’t find out I’d been accepted until a few weeks ago.

I shrug. “I’ll get an apartment nearby. Cut school down to part time so I can work enough to afford it,” It sounds so easy in theory; better said than done.

“You are not sacrificing school. No way,” Ben’s voice is raised, agitated. We all turn to look at him. He rubs his temples. “I watched you spend most your life trying to get into a school like this. I can’t let you put it on the back burner now. Academics first,”

“Okay Dad,” I scoff, but as I look up at him, I realize how much he really does resemble our father. He’s got his nose and the way it flares when he’s upset, the same eyes that wrinkle in the corners because he’s always squinting in thought. Most of all, he’s got that same perpetual look on his face: disapproval, disappointment.

“What am I supposed to do, then?”

His resolve fumbles a bit. He peeks at Steve through his lashes, whom simply shrugs and vaguely gestures to Daizy and I. I furrow my brows as they exchange some sort of bizarre telepathic communication, until my brother speaks. “I—we—will figure it out. For now I’ve rented a storage unit for your stuff. Pest control’s gonna come by tomorrow and bomb it for bugs,” he reaches into the pocket of his blazer, pulling out a metal ring with three keys on it.

“More moving, just how I wanted to spend my weekend,” Daizy half-heartedly jokes.

“Shop’s closed today. I’ll help,” Eddie offers, joining us in the kitchen. He snags a strip of bacon off of Steve’s plate, earning him a mild-tempered grunt.

Ben gives Eddie a foreboding glare. “Behave yourself, Munson,”

He shrugs. “Don’t I always?” He winks at me, and I’m positive it’s mostly to piss off my brother.

“I’ve gotta go to work,” Steve announces, sliding his plate to Eddie before moving to grab his coat from the rack by the door. I find myself wondering what someone like him does for work. I wrack my brain, then wrack and wrack some more. Then I question why I even care so much.

“Hey, I’ll be down after work for a drink. I need to talk to you about something,”

They make eye contact and, there they go with that wordless conversation. It freaks me out but I try to disregard it, as it’s none of my business. Though I am morbidly curious.

Ben also throws on his coat and grabs his briefcase. I know he works for a local law firm as a pre-law intern. A cushy job with across the board benefits, tuition assistance and a generous salary. Some call it luck but I see it for what it is; that he worked his ass off for that job. I remember when he’d call me every night after his interview, anxiously awaiting their response. That was two years ago, and now he’s only a year away from taking the bar and becoming a practicing lawyer.

“Edward, listen to me,” Ben instructs, pointing at Eddie as he inhales his breakfast. He makes a Hmph? Noise, half paying attention. “Wear plastic around your feet. Don’t bring any of those damn things into the apartment.”

“Yes boss.” Eddie rolls his eyes, saluting him. I snort and Daizy giggles.

I shake my head. Ben’s the same old big brother I remember with the soul of an old man, except now he’s seemingly keeping this apartment full of 20-something boys from falling apart. It’s endearing but also makes my chest pang with resentment. He’s replaced taking care of his real family in exchange for these college students. Not that I hold any of it against them. How would they know?

The door closes behind Ben and Steve, plunging the room into silence with a deafening click.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

My brother must believe I own much more things than I actually do.

The massive storage unit sits mostly empty, an echo bouncing off its metal walls. I laid my books and clothes out on the concrete floor, just in case something decided to crawl into the crevices to hide. The thought makes me shudder and tense.

Eddie made crude joke about ‘finally seeing a girl’s underwear’, and while I’d typically be embarrassed, all I could do was laugh. His presence is a different level of infectious, like it’s impossible to be upset around him.

Luckily, Hailey was nowhere to be found while we were at the Dormitory. Class hasn’t started yet, so I’m left to assume she’s out looking for her next murder victim. Once the last box has been torn apart and the unit is locked down tight, Eddie drives us in his rickety van up to the University Housing office.

“Do you go to school here?” Daizy asks from the back seat.

Eddie laughs. “What, me? Hell no. I go to the DePaul across town,”

“The School of Music?” I inquire.

“The one and only,” he chortles.

“Gonna be a rockstar someday or what?” I joke.

“That’s the dream. Don’t worry, I’ll still write to you when I’m famous,” He jokes, parking in front of the administration building.

I stare at the front doors, the thought of crossing them daunting. Daizy reaches for me, squeezing my shoulder. ‘You’ve got this,’ she tells me silently, and I nod, unbuckling my frayed seatbelt and hopping out of the van.

There’s a singular woman at the desk, round face screwed up with annoyance. She doesn’t look up from her computer, and I cough awkwardly in hopes of getting her attention. She continues to type, unamused.

“Uh, hello?” It comes out ruder than I intend, and I cringe. She looks up at me through hooded, tired eyes. “I signed my housing contract a couple days ago but I need to move out. How do I go about doing that?”

She sighs loudly, rolling backward to grab forms off the desk behind her. She slaps the stack of papers in front of me. “You’ll need to provide ample reasoning for the contract termination. After we review we will determine how much of the semester you are financially liable for.”

“Financially liable? I don’t even live there,” I complain.

“It’s just like renting, sweetheart. You sign the contract, you pay the bill. You’ve got a week to bring all of these back.” She calls me sweetheart in that condescending, professional tone that makes my blood boil. I snatch the papers off the desk, forcing myself to be the bigger person and not glare at her. She is unbothered, turning back to her computer.

I storm back to the van with a scowl on my face and annoyance clouding my judgement.

“I take it that didn’t go well,” Daizy tests.

I groan, reaching behind me to show her the papers. She takes the stack from me. “What the fuck is this?”

“Bullshit, is what it is,” I tell her. Eddie extends his hand out to Daizy and she hands over the paperwork.

He scans it thoughtfully. “Don’t sign these. Talk to Benny about it first,” he tells me.

“I don’t need his help.” I scowl stubbornly, taking the papers back. I’ve learned my lesson in relying on people, and my brother is no exception to that. Besides, he’s helped me out enough. Daizy too.

Eddie opens his mouth to say something but his jaw snaps shut, an unreadable expression on his face. He silently puts the car in reverse, pulling out of the parking space.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

I scroll through job sites on my laptop, mass applying to anything and everything. I stopped reading the job descriptions and qualifications about thirteen applications ago. Something will stick, I’m sure of it.

Back home, I worked as a barista right out of high school. I had impulsively moved in with my boyfriend at the time a week after graduation, and I needed a job to pay the bills stat. The local coffee shop graciously hired me. The job stuck, the boyfriend did not. Good riddance.

But now I’m jobless and boyfriendless, the latter of which doesn’t really bother me.

I know Ben’s right, even if I’ll never admit it aloud. I spent two grueling years applying to UChicago; poured my heart out into admissions essays, paid insane application fees. And for—what? To give up now? It’s not an option.

Eddie sits across the room on a beanbag chair, plucking at his electric guitar, occasionally adjusting the amp.

“You’re much nicer than your brother, y’kow,” Eddie breaks the silence so suddenly it’s startling.

I peek up from the screen. He’s looking at me with adorning eyes, curiosity playing on his lashes.

“Thank you?”

“Why’s that?”

“Why’s what?”

He leans back “Why are you so much nicer than Benny?”

I shrug, closing my laptop. “He took the brunt of the force from our parents. He endured eighteen years of pure torture. I wasn’t really affected until I was sixteen, when he moved out,” I hug my laptop close to my chest. “I understood, then. Why he is the way he is. Just doing the best with what was given to him. I tried to be there for him, but it’s hard when you’ve got no idea what to do,”

The silence between us is palpable. Finally, he speaks. “Well, thank God for you then. He would’ve turned out much worse if you weren’t there to keep him straight.”

I never thought of it that way, I want to tell him, but the whole conversation’s got me so uncomfortable that I let it die instead. Despite the topic, and his obvious flirting throughout the day, I’m not unsettled by my alone time with Eddie. He’s got a charm to him, and I gravitate towards him in a platonic way. I imagine us as good friends, and I’m sure we would’ve been in any other circumstance. But he’s my brother’s roommate, not my friend, and I try to keep that in mind.

He claps his hands and stands abruptly. “Well, Sweetheart. I think you’ve had enough depression for the week. Time for some fun,” he reaches out to me, wiggling his fingers decorated in bulky silver rings.

“Don’t call me that,” I complain but take his hand, standing up with a grunt.

“Get dressed,” he instructs, ignoring me.

“With what clothes, exactly?” I gesture to my pajamas and beaten up sneakers I’d worn the entire day, my clothing still stuck in a storage unit downtown.

He thinks for a minute, then his eyes light up. He dashes down the hall, into his bedroom—the second door on the right—and comes out a couple minutes later with clothes thrown over his forearm.

“Here, try this on,” he extends his arm, a little black dress and hanging around it.

I look up at him. “Why do you have women’s clothes?”

“Would you believe me if I told you they’re my sister’s?”

“No.”

“Then you don’t wanna know.”

“You’re foul,” I giggle. “I’m not wearing that!”

“Alright, new plan then,” he tosses the dress onto the couch before digging into the pocket of his ripped jeans. Retrieving his beaten cellphone that clings to life, he holds it to his ear.

“Who are you—“ he cuts me off with a raised pointer finger in a ‘one minute’ gesture. I roll my eyes.

“Daizy. Yeah It’s Eddie,” my heart drops. “Hey listen. I’ve got a situation. No, she’s fine… but uh, we need a dress. Preferably a short one,” he says the last part as he glances at me, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

I bury my face in my hands to hide my embarrassment.

“Yup. Bring it all. You’re coming with us. See you in a bit. Buh-bye.” he hangs up, shoving the decimated phone back into his pocket.

“Why do you have Daizy’s number?” I cross my arms over my chest.

“Why do you ask so many questions?” He retorts. “Take a shower. I’m sure Benny wouldn’t mind you using his. Unless, of course, you’d like to share,”

I twist my face and lightly shove his shoulder. “Gross.”

He energetically hops off back to his bedroom, his exclamation echoing down the hall, “Get ready!”

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

The Hub is a temperate college bar tucked into the corner of a strip of small businesses with apartments above them. The bouncer lets us skip the line and doesn’t bother to check our IDs. He tells Eddie to enjoy himself but to watch out for the owner Gary. Whatever that means. There’s two pool tables on the back end and flat screen TVs sit on every wall, each streaming a different sport. The hardwood floor’s seen better days, the roughest part being around the bar at the center of the room. It’s a loud Friday night: music blasts and drunk people shout over each other. A group of guys badly sing a karaoke cover of ‘My Girl’.

Daizy and I walk hand-in-hand. I tug her along, following Eddie. The only way I don’t lose him in the crowd is to follow that giant head of hair he has, bobbing in and out of the masses. Finally, we reach the bar, and Eddie leaps onto someone wearing a long coat, wrapping his arms around their shoulders.

Ben jumps, startled, turning to look at us. His angry expression melts instantly and he sighs. “Jesus, you scared me. What’re you guys doing here?” He glances at Daizy and I, dresses short and low cut, heels dangerously tall and enough hairspray in our hair to suffocate someone. He rubs his temples. “What’re you wearing?”

Grumpy old man, I tease him in my head.

From behind the bar, Steve sets a beer in front of Ben. “Eddie, you know you’re banned from…” the words die on his lips as I step from behind Eddie. He tries—and fails—not to make it obvious that he looks me up and down. “Uh, hi,” he breathes. He looks so handsome, his hair combed back with a few stray strands tickling his forehead, dressed in blue jeans and a t shirt that hugs his chest, a bar towel flung over his shoulder.

My whole body sets on fire. I clamber up, feeling like the wind was knocked out of my lungs. What is happening to me? “Hi,” it’s a meek, pitiful nose, but he flashes me that award-winning grin anyways.

Eddie seems amused, cackling with the likeness of a hyena. Ben is obviously agitated. He grabs his beer off the bar, standing to catch Daizy’s wrist in his hands. He tugs her away and she gives me a look I can only describe as confusion and excitement mixed together.

“Just a PBR Stevie, then you can go back to staring at the pretty girl,” Eddie teases, leaning on the counter.

Steve peels his eyes off of mine to glare at him. “You’re a pain in the ass,” he complains, reaching under the counter and retrieving a can. He cracks it open, cheap beer splattering them. “If Gary asks, Joey served you. He doesn’t know you’ve been 86’d.”

“Request beers from Joey. Got it.” He makes a mental note, cheers-ing us before disappearing into the crowd as well.

I watch Eddie leave and when I look back at Steve, he's already looking at me, propped against the bar. A surge of bravery rattles through my chest and I sit in front of him. The space between us is minuscule now, the scent of his cologne leaving an intoxicating haze in our shared air.

He takes a deep breath, chest swelling. "What can I get you?"

I shrug. "Didn't bring my ID. I think it's still in the storage unit being debugged," I say with a bitter laugh.

"Don't worry about it," he chuckles, filling a glass with ice. "December 14, 1995. 12:14 AM," he recalls, pointing a finger at me.

My heart drops into my stomach. "How do you..?" I can't even finish my sentence. Just my luck, the beautiful one's a stalker.

He chuckles. "He talks about the day you were born like it was the best day of his life," he nods behind me and I spin on the stool. Ben is flirting with Daizy, carefully brushing her curls off her shoulder. I compress my grin into a tight smile, looking back at Steve.

“Tequila Sunrise. Make it a double, please,”

“Huh. I struck you as a vodka girl. House fine?” He tests, shaking the blue bottle of house tequila in his hand. I nod, infatuated as I watch him move.

Get it together.

He slides the drink across the bar, shit eating grin on is face. “Tell me; does tequila make you mean or melt your clothes off? I’m cool with either, just wanna be prepared,”

Is he… flirting with me?

I snort and cover the lower half of my face with my hand. “Oh, God. Does that usually work on girls?”

His smile is so bright. Even under the dim lighting and tacky disco lights from the karaoke machine, I can see the light in his chocolate eyes. He props himself up against the back bar, muscles tensing as he looks down at me. Suddenly all the stories Ben’s told me of his Freshman year Dorm roommate turning out to be his best friend that saved him from himself make total sense. Steve’s comforting in a familiar way, like the second you’ve met him you feel like you’ve known him for years.

“Is it working?” He asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I haven’t been flirted with since high school and, in all honesty, I’m kind of freaking out. Made worse by the fact this is my brother’s best friend and roommate, I decide I need to tread lightly despite what the burn between my legs and the pounding in my chest begs.

“Is it?” I tease.

His eyebrows raise and he lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “You look great tonight, by the way,” he compliments.

I sip my drink, the burn of cheap liquor on my tongue. “Thanks. It was Eddie’s idea,” I admit. Why would I say that? I internally cringe.

“Sounds like him…”

“Hey,” I lean forward, not noticing the way my boobs spill out of the top of this dress. Steve’s face twists a bit and he looks anywhere but me. “Does Eddie have a sister?”

“No?” Steve replies, bewildered.

“Son of a bitch,” I whisper. I knew it. Disgusting.

“Why do you…” he trails off, looking over my shoulder, a concerned look on his face. I spin around again, groaning when I see Eddie going back and forth with a burly man. Round beer belly and a beard to his chest, the guy’s got a hundred pounds on Eddie easily. “Ah, shit.” I hear Steve exasperate behind me.

Without thinking I stand up. Steve calls my name but I ignore him. The men begin shoving each other. I spot Daizy and Ben dancing in the crowd, pacing towards them as fast as these heels will allow me. I whistle and Daizy’s head snaps in my direction. I point frantically at Eddie and her face falls. Once I’ve confirmed they’re following me, I dash to Eddie and the man.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be up on random girls at the bar, jackass!” The man shouts, shoving Eddie hard. There’s a little redhead in a red skirt and tube top watching the two men argue, arms awkwardly folded across her chest. Oh boy. What’ve you gotten yourself into now, Eddie?

Eddie raises his arms, palms forward in surrender. “My bad Lumberjack John, I'll back off,"

“You son of a—“ he raises his fist.

“Hey!” I pull Eddie back a bit but shield my body with his in case the man decides to swing. I’m not getting punched for Eddie’s endeavors, that’s for sure. “I’m so sorry about my friend here, he’s a little,” I pretend to shield my mouth from Eddie’s view, breathing the words stupid to the man. “He gets confused easily. It’s my fault, I should’ve been watching him closer,”

“I’m not—“ Eddie starts.

“Eddie!” I cut him off just as Ben makes it to us. "Stop talking," I instruct sternly.

Ben pulls Eddie back with force, shoving him behind us.

“Let’s all calm down okay?” Ben attempts to defuse.

"Your buddy's got no business talkin' to my nineteen-year-old daughter. What're you, thirty?" the man spits.

"Daughter?! Nineteen?!" Eddie turns green, and I think he might vomit. He doesn't bother to correct the man and tell him he's actually 23.

You've done it now, idiot.

"How'd you even get in here?" I snap, looking from her to her father. His face is pale. "Did you sneak your teenage daughter into a bar?!"

Completely unprovoked--or maybe my question caused it, not that we're pointing fingers here-- the man lunges for Ben, landing a solid right hook to his jaw. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Steve leap over the bar and begin a dash towards us.

The daughter leaps towards me, punching me square in the eye.

Now if you've never been knocked straight in the eye socket, the feeling is incomprehensible until it's happened to you. A pain so intense it makes you sick. It knocks me to the floor, the air sucked out of my lungs like a deflated Whoopee Cushion.

The Hub doesn't take long to devolve into utter chaos, food flying and punches thrown. Strangers fighting just because someone else started it. I've never been in a bar brawl until now. I know it's loud but I can barely hear it, my ears ringing as I lay feeling dead on the floor.

My head is killing me.

A man in white scoops me up off the floor.

An Angel. Goddammit, I'm dead. Always knew I'd die in a stupid way.

"You're alright, Sunny. I got you." Steve's voice is deep and hushed, his lips practically pressed into my hair as he whispers only for me to hear.

Funny. I don't remember him wearing white.

My ears still ring, so I think he says Honey instead of Sunny, and it makes me laugh because I imagine I'm the opposite of something sweet. Disappointing, like when you bite into a chocolate chip cookie and it's actually oatmeal raisin.

He must wonder why I'm laughing. If I don't die, then I'll have to let him in on the joke.

The air is cold and dark. We're outside. I'm loaded up into a car I don't recognize, but it smells like a mix of Steve's cologne and aged leather. Steve hands the keys to Daizy. I know it's her because, despite my blurry vision, I can still make out her sequin dress.

I focus really hard on staying awake, recalling that when at risk of a concussion, to not fall asleep.

Do not fall asleep.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

I lay my head on Daizy's lap as she presses a sack of frozen peas on my swollen eye. The expired painkillers she'd dug out of Ben's medicine cabinet do very little to soothe the sharp pain in my skull.

Trying desperately to think of anything but the fiasco at the bar, I fail miserably. I can only imagine what kind of crap Steve's got to deal with because of us. Ben tells me that Steve’s actually the manager at the Hub, and that this isn’t the first time Eddie’s gotten into trouble there. It’s a bad look for Steve, made worse by Ben and I’s involvement.

Eddie sits in the beanbag chair picking at his nails anxiously. Ben holds a bag of frozen broccoli to his jaw, glaring at Eddie from the couch by my feet.

"You fuckin' idiot," Ben snipes.

Eddie surrenders. "I didn't know she was nineteen!"

"You called him a Lumberjack, Ed!"

The door opens and shuts quickly. I sit up too fast and my head swirls. Daizy holds my head--which feels far too large for my neck--in her hands.

Steve tosses his jacket on the coat rack. He stares at us, hands on his hips. "Well, I fired the doorman. Thank you, Eddie," he says bitterly.

Granted, the bouncer should've never let a teenager slip into the Hub, but I still feel guilty.

Steve joins us in the living room, leaning over the sofa to rough up Ben's hair. "How's your face?"

"Feels like I just got punched," Ben groans.

Steve's eyes shift to me. He leans in a bit, gently taking the peas out of Daizy's hand and lifting them off my eye. He grimaces. "Nasty shiner, Sunny. You’re trouble, y’know that? It follows you,”

Sunny. Not Honey. I still don't get it.

His closeness makes me nervous. I try to think of something to say to ease the tension, pressing the frozen vegetable to my skin, making it tingle. “Deterministic Chaos Theory,” I mumble sleepily.

“The—What now?” Eddie wonders aloud.

“Small changes can be exponentially amplified, causing large and unpredictable consequences,” I define, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. “An environment can be rewritten by what is essentially Butterfly Effect. Learned about it in my pre-reqs.”

“Could’ve just said Butterfly Effect,” Ben complains. “You just wanted to sound smart.”

I kick him lightly. He flinches and chuckles.

"How are you feeling?" Daizy asks.

I swallow. "Pissed. I didn't get to finish my drink,"

Everyone shares a laugh at that.

"I'll make you plenty more while you stay here." the words come out of Steve's mouth so casually that I assume I didn't hear him right. My eyes bulge out of my head as I look around. Eddie gives me a massive smile, one of many I’ve gotten form him today, clapping his hands together. My eyes fall on my brother.

He shrugs. "We've got Jesse’s old room. It's yours, if you want it." Jesse must be the fourth guy that used to live here, his unoccupied bedroom at the end of the hall.

My jaw hits the floor, a prickling pain searing under my skin. The idea sound preposterous at first, three boys and a girl in one old apartment, but then I realize I’m in no position to decline and they’re doing me a favor. “Are you guys serious?”

“As a heart attack, Sweetheart,” Eddie jests. Steve plays with his hair and nods giddily.

Ben says ‘don’t call her that’ just as I say ‘don’t call me that’, prompting us to look at each other.

“We’re not letting you go back to the Dorms or letting you drop classes. Besides, we need someone to pay Jesse’s rent if we wanna keep living here,” Ben lightens the mood with a joke but I can tell he’s dead serious by the look in his eyes.

I crane my neck to look back at Daizy. She smiles big, nodding. You should do it, I swear I can hear her voice in my head.

Everyone’s eyes are on me. It makes me uncomfortable and I squirm, mulling over my answer. This feels a lot like being reliant on others, which is something I refuse to do. Not that I’ve got much of a choice, the alternatives far worse than the option in front of me. What’s the worst that could happen? I purse my lips together and nod. “Fuck it. Let’s do it.”

“You heard her boys!” Eddie stands up, leaping over the coffee table and pouncing on Steve. “There’s a lady in Apartment 406D!” He wraps his arms around Steve’s shoulders, attempting to pull him onto the ground. Ben scolds them both. ‘Better knock it off before you break something’, or something like that. I’m not paying attention, just watching them wrestle like twelve year olds in the dim lamplight.

As we sit there in our natural element, I realize this is what my life is like now for the foreseeable future. It’ll be tough for sure. I’ve never lived with a man I wasn’t related to, let alone this many at once. I’m outnumbered, predicting that I’ll be begging Daizy to come up to Chicago to give me a reprieve from all the boy in this house.

Despite my reservations, I smile at the trio as they argue about something unbeknownst to me.

There are far worse ways to spend my days.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

**I edited this intoxicated, pls let me know if I missed anything**

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A Blessing in Disguise - Rated T - 19,143 words

Featuring: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann

Summary: Eric is cute, funny, and just Jack’s type. The problem is he’s also Jack’s little sister’s best friend. Jack thinks he’s better off walking away, but the universe—and his sister Margaux—have other plans throughout the years. Even if the timing is always terrible!

.🍺🍺🍺.

siegfried, you are not my savior - Rated M - 6,121 words

Featuring: Derek "Nursey" Nurse/William "Dex" Poindexter

Summary: Bow hunter William Poindexter hears of a beautiful stag, spotted over the hill out east. When he hesitates, he gets a bit more than he bargained for.

General fantasy AU - magic is well known, highly used and accepted, if you're one of the lucky ones born with it.

.🍺🍺🍺.

Center Ice - Rated T - 5,812 words

Featuring: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann

Summary: Jack is hit badly during a game and loses consciousness. When he wakes up, he finds himself in an unfamiliar hockey rink together with another player. That player is Jack, from the future.

.🍺🍺🍺.

Those Tangled Olive Threads of Fate - Rated T - 4,356 words

Featuring: Adam "Holster" Birkholtz/Justin "Ransom" Oluransi

Summary: Adam’s mother always told him he was incredibly lucky. Most people had only two threads of fate: a red one for their soulmate and a green one for their soul friend. Some people had only one thread of fate, and a lucky few had three or four, but Adam was blessed with five threads — one on each finger of his left hand.

The problem was, he didn’t know which, if any, of them were red and which were green.

Adam was color blind.

.🍺🍺🍺.

shall i compare thee to a summer's day? - Rated G - 2,781 words

Featuring: Derek "Nursey" Nurse/William "Dex" Poindexter

Summary: Contrary to popular opinion, Dex was usually not a fan of summers. There was no hockey (either to play or watch), it’s hot as balls out, and every Sunday morning he’s stuck out in that heat selling pies to the pretentious customers at the farmers market because Bitty asked and it’s impossible to say no to Bitty.

.🍺🍺🍺.

Multitask Magic - Rated G

Featuring: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann

Summary: In which Bitty is a kitchen witch and his magic allows his very active brain to do many tasks at the same time, often during the same recipe.

.🍺🍺🍺.

A reminder to all creators whose works are revealed today to please update your publication date to today so that your works are shown at the top of the feed on AO3.

Please also remember to show love through kudos and comments to our creators when you enjoy their work! ❤️

[madisonandmore]

Hey sugar, put on your shades! It's about to get bright in here thanks to the works we have for the third day from our fantastic creators!

Creators, if your work was revealed today make sure to update the published date to today so that your work will show up in the most recent Check Please works on AO3!

☀️☀️☀️☀️

[Podfic] shall i compare thee to a summer's day? (22 minutes)

Featuring: Derek "Nursey" Nurse/William "Dex" Poindexter

Summary: Contrary to popular opinion, Dex was usually not a fan of summers. There was no hockey (either to play or watch), it’s hot as balls out, and every Sunday morning he’s stuck out in that heat selling pies to the pretentious customers at the farmers market because Bitty asked and it’s impossible to say no to Bitty.

☀️☀️☀️☀️

amphibious creatures (7,583 words)

Featuring: Derek "Nursey" Nurse/William "Dex" Poindexter

Summary: It's the summer before they start college. Nursey's cursed by a sea witch. Dex is shipwrecked on an island. Chowder is just happy to be here.

☀️☀️☀️☀️

Stargazing, Skinny Dipping, and Slideshows (5,569 words)

Featuring: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann

Summary: Immediately following the events of "Kitchen Work and Line Dances," Jack and Bitty get to know each other better while working at a French-immersion summer camp. Eventually, things get romantic. (This will not make much sense unless you read "Kitchen Work and Line Dances" first.)

☀️☀️☀️☀️

tales of the off-season (3,963 words)

Featuring: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann

Summary: Five off-seasons during Jack's career and the first after his retirement.

☀️☀️☀️☀️

like an ice cream cone (1,522 words)

Featuring: Larissa "Lardo" Duan/Shitty Knight, Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann

Summary: “Life is like an ice cream cone; you have to lick it one day at a time.” - Charles M. Schulz

Byron loves the afternoons when he can have ice cream, in Boston Common, with his au pair. When an adult Shitty has the opportunity to buy a truck, he jumps at the chance.

[enchantedchocolatebars]

(Based on this au headcanon and these au headcanons by @livvychoclate)

🎂 Not What It Seems 🗡️

(When Luz is about to pass by the kitchen entrance, she stops and takes a step back after noticing the shadows of Beardo Philip and Camila inside. At the kitchen table, the couple are engaged in a lively conversation as laughter is exchanged between them. Luz, who is still skeptical about Philip, pays close attention to his shadow as she furrows her brows. He has to be up to no good. How could her mamá be falling for both him and his tricks? After a second laugh is shared, Philip holds up his index finger, instructing Camila to wait as he swiftly pulls out a jagged dagger, causing the mother to emit a small gasp.)

Luz: (Her jaw drops) I knew it! (Looks like her suspicions were right! He is up to no good! He's trying to knife up / stab her mom! Probably for some weird witch hunter thing! Of course he didn't give up his old ways! Once a witch hunter, always a witch hunter. Without wasting a single second, she rushes into the kitchen, directing an accusatory finger at Philip) Stop right there, you! I won't let you hurt my--

(Philip turns around and reveals his dagger to be covered in frosting while a cake that was missing a slice sits on the kitchen table. Camila, seated at the table, has a cake slice in front of her on a plate.)

Luz: (brings her finger down) Mom.

Camila: (smiles at Luz) Luz, there you are! You're just in time for some cake. Philip had baked it today and was telling me all about it.

Philip: (proudly) It's vanilla. (Cuts a piece for himself and sits at the table) Made it from scratch.

Camila: I was planning on getting him a knife from the drawer to cut it, but he told me that he already had one on him.

Luz: Oh! (A bit embarrassed that she was wrong) Well... that cake is probably poisoned... or something.

Philip and Camila: (In sync) Poisoned? (He and Camilla share a glance before looking back at Luz. They proceed to let out a good-natured laugh.)

Philip: Now, Luzura, don't be ridiculous. If it were, I certainly wouldn't be eating it nor would I feed it to your mother.

Luz: Oh yeah, well, it doesn't even matter cause (points two v-sigh fingers at her eyes) I've got my eye on you (then at him), Wittebane. (Turns around to leave.)

Philip: Wait!

Luz: (Stops and turns her head around)

Philip: Before you go, please take a piece. I put a lot of effort into creating this cake and would be absolutely delighted if you tried some of it.

Luz: (Smiles smugly at him as she crosses her arms) Ha! (Her eyes go to glance at the cake) I don't wanna eat your stinkin'-- (When she looks at the cake, she notices that it looks pretty good. More than good actually. It looked like a cake you would see on TV or displayed in a bakery. She slowly begins to change her attitude) ... Well, maybe one itty bitty piece wouldn't hurt...

(She ultimately cuts herself a large piece and sits with Philip and Camila as the three converse happily.)

[thesleepyskipper]

Just posted a very fun project I completed with @petrodobreva​, who did an incredible podfic of my new work, which was inspired by @lutzgocelly​’s art for @omgauplease​! Bitty the Kitchen Witch has been in the back of my mind ever since I first saw him! 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47404624

[labelleizzy]

Story ideas from my sketchbook that I had forgot about: (comment with one of them and I'll write a sentence or two for you!)

Kitchen witch Bitty and sorcerer Kent have to work together when the villages are all up in arms!

Cait Farmer loves snowboarding

Bitty being touched or not, and acclimatizing

Loops and swirls of self-care ( dimension / texture? 1/18/18)

Hey Zimms, would you kiss me? (The sequel is titled c'mere Kenny)

Hera chapter: the trainer story, and Zeus not allowing her to work and why

I can't Remember The Things I've Lost

Lardo, Art Buddies And Accountability: that's why Shitty is always arting it up!

If I had 90 seconds to tell past me how to finish a project - what would I say to myself?

Bitty and the Good Knives.

The Past Is Always Present

The Last Shameful Secret Has Been Shared

Scraping teeth lightly over neck - SHUDDERING

[90secondnewbery]

A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle

1963 Newbery Medal Winner

Adapted by 5th/6th Grade English Class of Berkshire Country Day School (2024)

From Stockbridge, MA

Judges' Remarks: I really enjoyed this sassy take on the story—and it was made with such skill and craft! I appreciated the attention to detail, like the on-point costumes (Meg's pajamas in the first scene, or Mrs. Which's wacky witchy clothes, or Aunt Beast's appropriately furry ensemble) and the sound design (thunderstorm sounds in the first scene, or the pounding "heartbeat" sound when they are in the room with the disembodied brain IT). It was a smart idea to condense the three witches into one character, and to dispense entirely with blind alleys in the plot like the trip to Uriel and the encounter with the Happy Medium. I enjoyed the smart-aleck insolence of the script, like Charles Wallace saying "it's because of my spidey-senses!" or "slay queen!" (right before he's hypnotized) or Calvin repeating about how popular-but-depressed he is, or Mr. Murry shrugging "sucks to suck." I also liked the goofy additions, such as the Man With The Red Eyes running in to the room after IT is defeated and howling "No! What happened! No! My little itty-bitty IT!" There was a good use of cinematography throughout, especially the placement of the camera in the scene with IT so that it looks like the disembodied brain is much larger than the brain prop actually is. I also liked that there were interior and exterior scenes in various locations—this wasn't just shot in the corner of the library or in a school hallway, but in a real-looking kitchen, a forest, the climbing wall in the gym, etc., and this movie actually took the trouble to stage the scene with the many kids bouncing basketballs in unison! There were also resourceful touches, like having the characters spin around in a circle with a characteristic sound effect to indicate that they are tessering, or using the glass wall in the school to indicate the transparent column where Mr. Murry is trapped. I was also amused at the comedy of Charles Wallace offering Meg "warm milk and a sandwich," but just hands her . . . an empty plate? This movie was funny, resourceful, and well-made, with fantastic performances by everyone!

Permalink

[parvuls]

fic idea every day #10

Trope: Magical Realism, Setting: Principal’s Office, Word: Sugar.

Maybe Suzanne should've known, with the way Dicky follows her around the kitchen, climbs on the counter to watch her fold the dough, stares with wide eyes as she cuts pastry to weave a lattice top together.

But it skipped her generation, and though her mama warned her about it, she thought - maybe it would skip Dicky's, too.

Except now she's standing in the principal's office of her son's elementary school, trying to come up with an explanation for how a six-year old managed to conjure a cherry pie out of thin air, filling his classroom with the smell of nonexistent baking and crisp sugar.

[alphacrone]

ok but kitchen witch!bitty and plant witch!jack living in a sweet little cottage and greeting the sunrise with delicious things bubbling on the stove. bitty goes out, half asleep, to feed the chickens, his familiar, bun, on his heels. jack kneels down to run a hand through the soil around his herbs, sneaking glances at his husband. just the sight of him, bleary eyed and smiling in the gold of dawn, is enough for a small flower to appear in Jack's hand. he sneaks up on bitty to tuck it into the pocket of his apron, pressing a loud smooch to Bitty's cheek.

[dontthinkaboutzimbits]

Jack gets a call that he needs to go shake the witch Bitty down bc he’s been stealing stuff. Usually the captain sends Office Oluransi but he got married and is on his honeymoon. So Jack ambles down to the cottage and he does Not Like it There.

It’s very pleasant don’t get me wrong. But Jack has heard stories that would make your hair curl, about cops doing their jobs and getting in a witch’s bad side in the process. Look: someone has a knife or throws a punch, he can counter. Someone draws a gun, he has a vest on. Someone hex him into next week? He’s got nothing.

So Jack ambles up to the cottage. Bitty’s waiting for him on the porch, sitting in a rocking chair with his hat resting on a nail in the door behind him. “Mr. Bittle?”

“Mr Zimmermann.”

“Someone recently made allegations that you stole some items of some value from the lighthouse?”

“Could be.” He leans forward suddenly, and Jack takes a step back. Bitty is grinning. “Do I trouble you, Mr Zimmermann?”

“More than you could possibly imagine.”

Somehow Jack finds himself inside the cottage, in the kitchen where the walls are painted a peachy yellow, with a piece of pie and a glass of tea in front of him. He shouldn’t eat it. This is how every witch story goes- the food and drink are bespelled and the next thing he knows he’ll be sitting in a tub of ice with his kidneys missing. But it looks so damn good and he is really hungry, and Bitty is chattering and eating too.

No sooner does he finish his slice than Bitty is fussing over him, touching the graying hair at his temples. “It’s a stressful job, aint it,” he coos.

“It can be,” Jack says.

“I have just the thing,” and Bitty puts together a little satchet of herbs, “to put under your pillow for deep sleep and sweet dreams.”

“Is this a bribe?” Jack doesn’t take bribes.

“It’s not a bribe.” Bitty tuts about the kitchen, putting things away. He could use magic but...he doesn’t. “It is a kindness. A gift of no monetary value. I look after my community, same as you. It would sure be a cold world if we didn’t have each other’s backs.”

And then Bitty ushered him out the door and Jack walked to his car in a daze. He was down the street before he realized he’d forgotten about the stolen mixer for that creepy demon. Ughhhhh.

He needed backup. Jack pulled out his phone and dialed. “Shits. I need your help.”

Dex is a cross roads demon who likes to spend his summers in a lighthouse because he hates being near people. Nursey is a “client” of his; Nursey summoned Dex to help with his writer’s block, so Dex sent him to the lighthouse to work uninterrupted while Dex ties up some loose ends in town for a couple days.

It’s going great until a swimmer in a big fur coat washes up on shore. Nursey is a cool bro and helps the swimmer, one Adam Birkholtz. He gets Holster cleaned up, feeds him a hearty meal, and hands him his coat on his way out the door.

The facts are these: Holster is a selkie and his coat is his pelt. Feeding and inviting a selkie into your home is a common courting ritual, and some selkies consider this a declaration of Intent. Taking and then returning a pelt to a selkie is on par with putting a ring on it.

Bitty is a local witch who arrives at the light house to shake Dex down for spell ingredients—imagine his dismay when Nursey flings open the door and begs him to help. Holster is crying and singing and being super emotional in the living room.

“Please Bitty, how do you undo a selkie marriage??? If I don’t figure this out Dex is going to kill me! Or worse! He’ll never let me live it down!”

It’s cool, Bitty knows a guy. (Bitty knows everyone.) He calls up Officer Oluransi to gently tell Holster about human customs, being the supernatural liaison for the police department and a selkie himself. Ransom arrives on the scene and takes Holster aside to talk for a while. Like a really long time. Like Nursey’d kinda worried that they fell off the face of the earth.

Bitty steals stuff from Dex’s kitchen. “He’s a demon, it’s not like he’s using this mixer anyway.”

Dex comes back the next day and is greeted by Nursey yelling “EVERYTHING IS NORMAL.”

“Why is there beach sand and stuff all over the carpet? What happened here?”

“SHUT UP DONT WORRY ABOUT IT!”

“Did you finish your manuscript?”

Nursey didn’t write anything. It’s suspicious. Dex is suspicious. But he’s always suspicious so he lets it slide.

(It takes him three weeks to figure out he’s been burgled.)

I’d call this fic Selks on the Beach if I ever wrote it proper.

[goldasschains]

If ghosts are canon in Check, Please…who’s secretly a witch/magical on the team 🤔

[starpens]

trouble comes twice ࿐ gojo satoru x female reader. satoru falls ill with a case of baby fever after seeing his baby girl dressed up as him.

content . ᕀ gojo and reader are parents [ referred to as ‘dada’ & ‘mama’ ], brief mention of pregnancy, emotional!gojo, sweet fluff with slightly suggestive dialogue at the end. 

“dada- dada, look at me!” 

your daughter screeches out, announcing her arrival with the bright and melodic babble of a mischievous child. she stands on her tippy toes, her fingers covering your own as she helps you twist the knob and open the door to satoru’s office. 

even now, he forgets that he’s a father, until he is reminded in the most wonderful way. sometimes, your five-year-old will beg to wake satoru up two hours before he has to go to work just so they can play with her dolls together, or she’ll step all over his toes as she squeezes in between him and the kitchen counter while the three of you cook dinner together or like right now, crashing towards him with all the subtlety of a carpet bomb of cursed energy— so eager to show off her costume that her feet accidentally stumble over your heels. 

dressed up as a miniature version of him. 

his lips curve into an instant grin, pressing the button on the screen of the phone tucked between his ear and shoulder to end his current call.  the sound of the higher up scolding him cutting off sharp and abrupt makes his grin widen. they can wait, but his baby girl cannot. twisting in his chair, he catches his daughter just as she collides against him with an audible oof. 

“did we interrupt an important call?” you greet him, a soft smile on your glossy lips as you walk around the large desk satoru is seated at. you pat a hand to his knee before leaning against the edge of his desk. “sorry, i tried to get her to wait.” 

“you kiddin’? nothing’s more important than my two best girls,” he says, tugging at the bottom edge of his blindfold to drag it down, his expression playful as he watches his daughter copy him. she hurriedly removes her own blindfold, a tiny scrap of cloth covering her summer blue eyes. 

“so who are you?” he teases her, twitching one milky brow at the bouncing toddler in front of him. “where’s princess? did a curse finally eat my snotty kid?”  

“i’m the strongest!” your daughter chirps excitedly, crisscrossing two baby fingers to mimic his domain summon. 

your bitty sprout is so precious with her tiny white curls, tied into two space buns and her black blindfold that she scratches at with the back of her fist. not to mention, the bottom half of her cherub face is covered by the high collar of the jacket she’s wearing, identical to gojo’s standard uniform and the result of you staying up all night at your sewing machine, shredding one of his spares into a costume for your daughter. 

looking at her like this, she really is a tinier, stickier version of gojo satoru. 

“the strongest, huh? look at that, you’re already my favorite child. megumi would never offer to take my place so i can retire early.” 

“satoru…” you start, shaking your head in half-hearted exasperation. “when she picks up your sass and uses it against you, i’ll be the first to say “i told you so.’” 

“worried you’ll be outnumbered, mama?” he shoots the words at you, flashing a smile that amusement drizzles from like sweet icing. 

you roll your eyes, and then he turns back to his daughter, reaching down to effortlessly gather her against his broad chest before he pulls gently at one of her fat cheeks, nuzzling her close. “how come you chose to dress up as me, jellybean? it’s not october.” 

“i’m going to a costume party for keigo and haru,” she explains excitedly, her little face brightening at the mention of suguru’s sons. “but mama couldn’t find scarlet witch costume.” 

“oh, ouch,” he whines dramatically, placing a hand over his heart and pretending to be wounded by her open honesty. “wound me some more.” 

“dada, you’re so dramatic,” she giggles at him, and though satoru’s genetics may have overpowered your own for the most part, the roll of her eyes is a trait she learned directly from you. 

“second place is a serious injury, little princess. i should go see if shoko’s awake to make sure i’m not dying-”

“i wanted to dress up as dada because he’s a hero, like avengers,” she cuts him off, so perceptive and honest. your daughter latches on to the collar of his jacket so she can pull his head closer and plant him a slobbery mwah! on his cheek, and if you see gojo’s eyes mist over, glassy ocean blue from tears, you don’t comment on it. 

“down, please,” she requests, grunting and wriggling until he sets her down on the floor with a wobbly chuckle. unaware that her father’s expression has glazed over, his mind spiraling from her words. 

gojo satoru doesn’t even shed tears at funerals, but right now? his eyes flicker to you desperately, and you soften like clouds, nodding silently. 

“sweet pea, the party starts at 3:30 so you have plenty of time to show megumi-nii your costume, why don’t you?” you suggest, giving your boyfriend a moment to discreetly wipe the wet away from his cheeks. sure, he’s seen his students grow into formidable sorcerers that he is infinitely proud of and sure, he may have gotten choked up once or twice while snapping memories of megumi’s important milestones— like his middle school graduation, and that one time he didn’t insult gojo loudly when he picked him up from class in front of his peers— but this…? this overwhelms him, the kind of love he feels right now.

this love… this love is so different, something he’s never experienced before. it’s unlike quick flings brought home from bars, trying to lift the weight off his shoulders for a couple of hours with a pretty face. it’s unlike the near religious idolization from his clan, smothering him with their expectations and obsessive admiration. it’s whole and pure— it’s his family, his true one. it’s you and your baby girl driving away his loneliness like sunlight chases down bad dreams. 

“okay, mama!” she agrees, nodding.

“but go directly to his room. remember where it is?” 

“i remember!” 

“i’ll be right behind you after i talk to your da. don’t annoy megumi-nii too much, ‘kay?” you turn around, opening the door to let your daughter out of satoru’s office and into the long corridor where you watch as she waddles in the direction to megumi’s room. when you can no longer see her, you step back into the office and shut the door before turning to look at your boyfriend. “she’s so excited to go to this party. it’s supposed to be superhero-themed and she wanted to dress up as wanda maximoff, but- are you still crying?” 

satoru barely remembers moving so quick, reaching out to hook one of his strong arms around your waist to pull you into his lap sideways.. he barely remembers cupping your cheeks into his big palms as if you’re his most precious thing, a goddess that carved out a piece of heaven for him to hold here on earth. your body is rounded and soft, a comfort to him when his emotions get the best of him. his eyes, pale blue like the northern glaciers, flicker over your face— to your expression that is more than concerned, and your lips that are parting to ask if he’s okay, and then, he’s kissing you—

you gasp, but your initial surprise melts into love, like a piece of chocolate held between your fingertips for too long, because you know what came over him now. you feel it too sometimes, when you see him bonding with your baby girl. it’s sweet, the way he spells words into those kisses— gratitude, affection, and something a little more primal that you can’t place. 

god, he knows you can feel his tears, saltine as they slip traitorously down his cheeks to pool in between the cracks of your joined lips.

when he pulls away a little, you wipe his wet cheeks with your thumbs, your heart tender from the aches until he ruins the moment by whispering four words against your lips that make your big doe eyes widen to full moons. 

“i want another one.” 

huh.

“are you crazy?” you whisper-shout, laying a fist against his chest to keep him from moving closer and indulging him in another kiss. before jellybean was born, having a child together had not been in either of your wishlists for the future, but two pale pink lines gleaming on your bathroom counter five years ago had changed everything and now, you couldn’t imagine life without her. 

but another one? 

“don’t tell me you’re getting baby fever just because she dressed up as you.” 

satoru doesn’t know what has come over him. he never wanted to have children of his own anyway. it was one of those stubborn pacts he made with himself when he was young and flippant. but seeing his baby girl dressed up as him— calling him a hero above all of his faults and failures— is making him want an entire litter with you, a dream team.

“she said i was a hero. i need to hear that from at least one more little me.” 

“we’re not having another baby just to feed your ego, satoru,” you shake your head. “i mean it so stop giving me that look!” 

“what look?”

“that look, the one that tells me you want to bend me over your desk right now,” you huff, “i have a party to go to.” 

“but she was so cute in her little costume, wasn’t she? we make cute kids, i told you that the first time you let me-” 

“i should have left you at dinner that night.” 

“but you didn’t,” he says, grinning toothily, his long, pale fingers sneaking under the hem of your shirt to tease at soft skin underneath. he’s got you already, and he knows it. “just like you ain’t gonna leave this office without another baby in you.”

꒰ LOLLYNOTE ꒱: waaaah, i hope you enjoyed this lil piece ! this was a bit selfshippy and totally self indulgent but i hope you love it anyways <3 thank you to @sleepygetou for letting me use her darling babie ocs keigo & haru too 🥹

[zombizombi]

zimbits, 4

4. over a cup of tea

Jack has only just lifted his hand to knock on Eric’s door when it swings open, leaving him standing with his fist in the air. His neck hurts, muscles pulled tight. Eric smiles the way he always does, golden and warm, and Jack wonders why he ever tries to knock. 

“Hi, honey. Long day?” Eric asks, tilting his head just a little to left. He is wearing Jack’s sweater, looking at him the same way he’d looked at him when he read his palm, and Jack wonders how he knows.

He always knows.

“Yes,” Jack says, stepping through the door as Eric moves aside. It’s cool in the apartment, and as Eric shuts the door behind him, Jack lets his shoulders relax. Eric’s cat winds itself around Jack’s ankles, purring. The windows are open, a light breeze stirring Eric’s filmy curtains. It smells like bread and cinnamon and the traces of incense, heady and sweet.

“I’ll make you some tea,” Eric says, and not a moment later the kettle whistles from the kitchen. As Jack follows him he can see the dark mug he always uses out on the counter, can watch the constellations appear as Eric pours hot water inside. Eric has gentle hands, and Jack’s eyes follow them as he places the kettle back on the stove, cuts bread, puts it on a plate.

At the table, Jack closes his eyes and wraps his hands around the mug, inhaling the sweet, herbal aroma of the tea. It’s not the same as the tea Eric sends Jack home with, nor is it the same as what he’d made for Jack’s mother. This is mint and anise and wintergreen, soothing in the way Eric’s hands are soothing as they trace down the back of Jack’s neck. The skin tingles where he touches, warm and cold all at once.

“I love you,” Jack murmurs, eyes still closed.

Eric kisses just near his ear, eyelashes brushing the skin before he pulls away. “I love you, too, sweetpea,” he says.

ways to say i love you prompts

[parvuls]

fairytale au where an evil witch curses prince jack to confinement in a tower, but instead of trying to escape jack concludes he brought it on himself and considers it as a punishment he deserves. he doesn't do anything to discourage the rumors that the tower is guarded by a fearsome dragon, either.

enter bitty, who's on a mission to slay a dragon in order to prove himself to his dad, king richard, and chooses jack's tower because he's not too interested in the tales of locked up princesses going around.

imagine bitty's surprise when there's no dragon to be slayed. imagine bitty's anger when jack forbids him from telling people that he rescued the lost prince, and even tries to get him to leave as soon as possible (rudely, too! without even an offer for something to drink! bitty is outraged. even more so by the state of the tower's kitchen.)

bitty refuses to leave without proof of his courage (mostly because he's really not too keen on returning to his kingdom and all that awaits there). jack refuses to come with him.

they must find a way to reach a compromise.

[alphacrone]

ZIMBITS AU -- Neighboring Magic Shops

Eric Bittle, a kitchen witch, is determined to bring success to his new bakery, Just Peachy, where he specializes in charmed treats and teas. Jack, the fallen wunderkind of famous necromancer Bad Bob, does not appreciate the saccharine scent of baked goods wafting into his shop every waking moment of every damn day. He runs a serious store, with powerful artifacts and ancient tomes -- things far less frivolous than luck & cheer infused PSLs. Enter a few meddling friends and a werewolf pack that runs the neighborhood bar, The Haus, and Jack and Bitty find themselves on the adventure of a lifetime. 

[bmwiid]

Eric loves Diagon Alley. He adores it - when he first learned how to apparate, if was the first place he went, getting a few weird looks from the local witches and wizards as he took as many pictures as he could for his folks back in Georgia. 

Sure, he guessed, there were places in it back home, but nowhere quite the same. Nowhere so steeped in history, his history, than London. 

When he’d gotten his letter to to to Ilvermoney he’d had no idea about the whole other world out there, just under the surface. He always thought he’d been different - and he was. 

But he’d graduated now - and his parents were... trying real hard to come to terms that he wasn’t going back to rural Georgia and live a ‘normal’ nomage life. 

Muggle. A muggle life. He liked Muggle better, he like a lot of things better in Diagon Alley. 

Namely, he liked his own little part of it.

-

Bitty Bakes was a small, wildly successful bakery slash cafe that filled the little nook between the bookstore and the jewelers. When he’d started out, he’d been worried - a loan from his folks back in Georgia, one from the bank and his entire savings account just for the downpayment - but it had all paid off. 

He was a so-so wizard, but he was a fantastic baker. When he’d worked out (early on in his education) that he could combine just enough magic to make his baking even better, he knew what he wanted to do. 

He spent most of his days working in the kitchen, charming his pots and pans clean, making sure that the upside-down cake never fell flat, and chatting to his customers. 

His busiest time of year was always the lead up to the start of school. The street came alive with posters and fliers, he loved watching all the little muggle borns walk through the crowds with huge eyes, trying to take it all in at once, the older kids, surer and well versed in the coming and going of the street, would meet up with their friends in little groups and descend onto the shops as they needed. 

And no trip was complete without a visit to Bitty Bakes. He had a huge range of pies and cakes, and he worked hard to make sure that everyone who walked through the door got a warm welcome. 

Especially if they were...

“Well good morning, Mister Zimmerman.” He said, from where he was placing the goodies he’d made that morning into the glass display, as the door opened with an almost silent ping. His friend, Dex, who worked at the smithy making caldrons and other iron goods, had made the bell above the door. It sounded a little different for every person. Eric found that he could now pick out who was walking in just by the jingle of the bell. And Jack Zimmerman was... well... just as muted as the bell.

Oh, not that you could tell, really, the way he’d fill up the small shopfront, tall, handsome, with the bluest eyes... but so sad. 

“Morning.” He said, looking over the selection. He did the same thing every day, and every day he asked,

“So what’s good?”

“Same as every other day, sir.” Bitty said, standing up and dusting some of the flour from his hands. “Everything.”

Today Jack was wearing a lovely blue sweater, just the right colour to match those eyes, and Bitty felt himself going a little red around the ears as he took in how well it clumg to the well defined arms of the required Quiddich star.