#yep. that's a bird alright

[neferaskingdom]

♡ Where's My Chocolate?! | LN4

Summary: Where Lando has a massive chocolate addiction but his trainer put a ban on it. How's a man supposed to live without his Kinder Joys? or his Kinder Maxis? or his Kinder Eggs? or his-

LANDO NORRIS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

Lando was practically vibrating with excitement as he unlocked the door to his flat. It was the off-season, the glorious time when he could finally eat what he wanted without Jon breathing down his neck about "his unhealthy eating habits" and "lack of diet discipline." The crown jewel of his freedom? The stash of Kinder chocolates meticulously hoarded over the year.

He burst into the kitchen, opened his sacred candy drawer, and froze. The drawer was half-empty. Half-empty.

Lando stared in disbelief, his hands gripping the edge of the counter like he was about to faint. He began rifling through the contents, counting and recounting the chocolates as though they’d magically multiply.

"Babe!" he yelled, his voice cracking. "Where’s my chocolate?"

Y/n strolled into the kitchen, holding a cup of tea, completely unfazed by the brewing storm. "Hi to you too, Lando."

He spun around, clutching a Kinder Maxi like a lifeline. "Don’t ‘hi’ me. My stash is gone. Did you—" He gasped dramatically. "Did you eat it?"

She blinked at him. "What? No!"

"Then who? The Easter Bunny?" he shrieked. "It was full last week!"

Sipping her tea, she said casually, "Oh, Jon called."

Lando’s face went pale. "Jon? My trainer, Jon?"

"Yep," she said, setting her mug down. "He told me to keep an eye on your candy consumption. Said something about ‘self-control’ and ‘preventing cavities.’ Apparently, you have a chocolate limit now."

Lando stared at her like she’d just betrayed him in the worst way possible. "You’re lying."

She shrugged. "Suit yourself."

"No," he said, his voice rising to a dramatic wail. "You can’t do this to me! I’ve been waiting all year for this! This is my moment!"

"Your moment?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Lando, it’s just chocolate."

"It’s not just chocolate! It’s freedom! It’s happiness!" He dropped to his knees, clutching a Kinder Egg like it was a dying bird. "This is cruel and unusual punishment!"

"Alright, Shakespeare," she said, stepping over him to close the drawer. "Get up. You’re not a toddler."

But Lando’s resolve was already solidifying. He wouldn’t be defeated so easily.

That night, Y/n woke to the sound of faint rustling. Bleary-eyed, she reached over for Lando, only to find his side of the bed empty. Squinting in the dim light, she followed the noise to the kitchen.

There he was, crouched in front of the candy drawer like some sort of gremlin, surrounded by half-opened drawers and cabinets. He was whispering to himself, "Where is it? Where did she put it?"

"Lando," she said, crossing her arms.

He froze, slowly turning his head to look at her. His eyes were wide and wild, his hair sticking up in all directions. "Oh. Hey. Fancy seeing you here."

She pointed at the mess around him. "What are you doing?"

"Uh, night yoga?"

"Yoga," she repeated flatly.

"Yeah, it’s great for flexibility," he said, attempting a stretch that ended with him knocking over a jar of flour.

"Get back to bed, Lando," she said, grabbing him by the arm.

The next day, Lando devised Plan B. He called Oscar.

"Mate, you have to help me," Lando whispered into the phone like a spy in enemy territory.

"What now?" Oscar asked, already regretting picking up.

"She’s hidden my chocolates. All of them. I’m dying here."

"And what do you want me to do about it?"

"Smuggle some Kinder Eggs to me. Discreetly."

Oscar sighed. "Absolutely not. She’ll kill me."

"Oscar, please! I’m losing my mind, mate!"

"And I’d like to live, thanks."

Lando groaned, hanging up dramatically.

The coup de grâce happened at Max and Kelly’s house. They had invited them both over for lunch, and for a brief moment, everything was going fine. That is, until Penelope came running into the room, tears streaming down her face.

"Uncle Lala stole my chocolates!" she wailed.

All heads turned to the pantry, where Lando was caught red-handed, stuffing his face with what was unmistakably Penelope’s stash. His cheeks bulged like a hamster’s, and he froze mid-bite when he saw everyone staring.

"Lando," Max said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That’s for my kid."

"I’m...uh...testing for poison?" Lando offered, his words muffled by chocolate. He was already edging toward the door, trying to shield his loot from view.

"Seriously?" Y/n said, marching over, her voice a mix of frustration and disbelief. "You’re stealing from a child?"

Lando clutched the Kinder Joys tighter, his eyes darting around the room like he was calculating an escape route. "You don’t get it! These chocolates—" he paused, clutching the candy dramatically to his chest, "—are essential. I need them more than Penelope does."

She threw her hands up in exasperation. "You’re a grown man, Lando! Have some self-control for once."

"Uncle Lala should go to jail for stealing my chocolates!" Penelope said with all the righteous fury of a five-year-old, pointing an accusing finger at Lando.

"If loving chocolate is a crime, then lock me up!" he declared, crouching lower and hissing dramatically at anyone who dared approach him.

"Oh my god," Max groaned, rubbing his temples. "I can’t believe I’m witnessing this."

Kelly crossed her arms, glaring at Lando. "You’re eating a five-year-old’s Christmas stash, Lando. Have you no shame?"

Penelope, who had been standing quietly until now, stomped her tiny foot. "Uncle Lala, give it back! Mommy says stealing is bad!"

Lando froze, looking genuinely wounded. "I’m not stealing," he said earnestly. "I’m redistributing the wealth." He paused, then added with a whisper, "For the greater good."

Max raised an eyebrow. "You’ve lost your mind. Put the chocolates down."

"Never!" Lando shouted, clutching the stash tighter and attempting to back into the pantry.

"Uncle Lala!" Penelope shrieked, rushing forward to tug on his arm. "You’re a meanie!"

"Lando," Kelly said, exasperated, "Give P her chocolates back please"

"I can’t!" Lando wailed dramatically, holding up an empty wrapper like it was his salvation. "I’ve been oppressed for weeks. Weeks! Do you know what it’s like to have Jon ruin your life?"

"I’m going to call Jon," she threatened, pulling out her phone.

"No! Not Jon!" Lando cried, dropping to his knees and scrambling to hide behind Max. "Anything but that! Please, I’ll do anything! I’ll eat kale. I’ll run an extra five miles tomorrow. Just don’t call Jon!"

Max stared down at him, torn between amusement and second-hand embarrassment. "Lando, mate, I think you’ve hit rock bottom."

Lando peeked out from behind Max’s legs, his chocolate-smeared face a picture of desperation. "This isn’t rock bottom. Rock bottom is no chocolate at all."

Penelope crossed her arms, looking unimpressed. "Uncle Lala, you’re being very silly."

"You’re right," Kelly said, scooping up Penelope. "Lando, apologize to my daughter and step away from the pantry."

He clutched one last Kinder Joy, giving it a sorrowful look. "I’m sorry, P. But you’ll understand one day. Love makes you do crazy things." He kissed the chocolate dramatically before surrendering it to Kelly.

The lowest point came a few nights later when she woke to Lando’s sleep-talking.

"Kinder Maxi...so creamy...so sweet..." he mumbled, drooling onto his pillow.

She stared at him, half amused, half exasperated.

By Christmas, she couldn’t take it anymore. The sight of Lando moping around the house like a sad puppy had broken her resolve. So, on Christmas morning, she led him to the kitchen, where a decadent chocolate cake sat waiting on the counter, accompanied by a wicker basket brimming with his favorite chocolates—Kinder Maxis, Kinder Eggs, and everything else she could get her hands on.

Lando froze in the doorway, his eyes wide as they darted from her to the cake. "What’s this?" he asked, his voice tinged with awe.

"Merry Christmas," she said, her smile soft but brimming with excitement. "It’s all for you."

His gaze flickered between her and the cake, his expression shifting from disbelief to pure, unfiltered joy. "You… you did this? For me?"

She nodded, and his lips parted slightly, his eyes shimmering as if he might actually cry. "You’re the best girlfriend ever," he choked out before pulling her into a bone-crushing hug, his arms wrapping around her as he swiped some of the chocolate frosting.

She laughed against his shoulder, the warmth of his embrace making her cheeks flush. "Do you love me more than chocolate now?" she teased, her voice light and playful.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his face alight with a cheeky grin. "That’s debatable," he said, dragging the words out as if he were seriously contemplating it.

Her eyes narrowed in mock offense as she gasped and pretended to reach for the cake. "Fine, I’ll just eat this myself—"

"No!" he yelped, grabbing her waist before she could step away. With a quick, smooth motion, he spun her around, his laughter filling the kitchen. "Okay, okay! I love you more."

She tilted her head, her lips quirking upward. "Prove it," she challenged, her voice daring but soft.

For a moment, the world seemed to pause. Lando’s grin faded, replaced by an expression so earnest it made her heart skip a beat. He stepped closer, his hands sliding up from her waist to cradle her face gently. His thumbs brushed against her cheekbones as he leaned in, his gaze locking with hers.

When his lips finally met hers, it was like warmth spreading through her veins. The kiss started tender, his lips soft and lingering as if he were savoring the moment. But then he tilted his head, deepening the kiss, and the tenderness gave way to something more fervent. His hands moved to her hair, fingers tangling in the strands as he pulled her closer, pressing their bodies together until there was no space left between them.

Her hands found their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his sweatshirt as she melted into him. She could feel his heart beating rapidly under her palm, matching the rhythm of her own. The faint taste of chocolate lingered on his lips, making the kiss feel all the more intoxicating.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting against each other as they tried to steady themselves. Her cheeks were flushed, and Lando’s eyes sparkled with a mix of giddiness and something deeper.

"Alright, you win," she said, laughing softly as she looked up at him. Her voice was teasing, but her eyes held a warmth that mirrored his own.

Lando grinned, his dimples making an appearance as he leaned in to peck her lips again, quick and sweet. "How did you get Jon to agree to this?" he asked, his voice still slightly breathless as he glanced toward the cake.

She smirked, stepping back to grab a fork from the counter. "What Jon doesn’t know won’t hurt him."

His laughter was loud and unrestrained, echoing through the kitchen. "You rebel. I love it."

She handed him the fork, watching as he eagerly sliced into the cake. "Keep up with your training," she said, crossing her arms and leaning against the counter, "and I might sneak you some chocolates now and then."

"Deal," he said, shoving a forkful of cake into his mouth with a contented hum. He closed his eyes, savoring the taste before looking at her with a wide, chocolate-smeared smile. "Best Christmas ever."

[stevieschrodinger]

This is not how Steve wanted to spend his afternoon.

Actually, he’s found himself doing a lot of things he hasn't wanted to since Starcourt burned down but, honestly, this is probably right up there.

God it’s disgusting.

But he had to try. All the kids had looked at him with their stupid hang dog faces, so he said he’d try. Which is why he’s at lovers lake, freezing his ass off in the water and nipple deep into the shrubbery, ripping slimy crappy weeds and grass out of the muddy lake bed.

At least Robin got in with him. She’s shivering in her bathing suit, but she’s gamely holding onto the cooler as it floats in the water, so at least there’s that.

The bin full Upside Down vines next to the tank hadn't made much sense at the time, but it became apparent pretty fucking fast when the fish creature in Steve’s pool hadn’t eaten for forty eight hours, and Steve was now, finally, sober enough and not concussed enough to put two and two together.

Hopefully this works though; all the kids have, obviously, become immediately like, fucking pack bonded with the thing. Man. Fish Man.

El and Max keep insisting he’s a mermaid – Merman? Merdude? - like he’s something out of a fairy tail and is all magical and shit.

Steve takes a breath and ducks down again, having felt something hairy and frond like with his exploring toes.

“You think this is enough? Like as a fair test?” Robin rocks the half full cooler forward and Steve peeks in.

And alright, Steve just doesn’t want to fucking be here at all, so he says, “yep, looks good,” as they share a lightly guilty look.

It might not work at all, of course, so their wanting to give up is legitimate. They can always come back when it’s warmer if the fish man does eat this shit.

He certainly isn’t interested in the raw fish the kids have been trying to feed him – Steve’s going to be eating fish for a fucking month with what’s in his freezer now, and don’t those reprobates realize the price of fucking prawns??

The fish man wasn’t interested in meat either, not raw, not cooked – even though Dustin insisted that because of his ‘forward facing eyes’, ‘claws,’ and ‘slightly pointed teeth,’ he must be a predator Steve! The vines must have just been for, in his tank, or whatever, Steve!

Whatever.

Steve’s here to prove them wrong, and Robin’s backing him up.

The kids have gone home when they get back, which is a fucking relief. Even with the heaters in the car on full, Steve still feels cold in his bones. His skin warm and tingly, but the shivers still locked inside; him and Robin head for separate bathrooms without even really talking about it, fishboy has survived this long, he can do another twenty minutes.

Steve finds the biggest sting of kelpy weedy seaweedy stuff from the lake, and drags the tip of it in the pool. It’s dark out, the light from in the house reflecting on the surface of the pool, making it impossible to see where the creature might be hiding; until he disturbs the surface, a few seconds later.

Steve splashes the end in the water, “here fishy fishy fishy.”

“Steve,” Robin elbows him.

“What, it’s not like he has a name,” Steve doesn’t look at her though, he’s watching that strange pair of eyes come closer. They reflect the light strangely, like a wild animal in the headlights. His dark hair is plastered to the top of his head, being wet, and everything else is submerged.

Steve knows he can breathe fine for at least an hour out of the water though; that’s how long the rescue took. And then the bathtub; he was fine in there for a day while they drained the pool of chlorinated water and refilled it with fresh. And it was easy enough to get him in there; if he was human, Steve would say that fish dude was starving to death. Concave stomach, all his ribs clearly visible, pale flesh pulled too tight over the knobs of his spine. Steve had lifted him easily, the sad curl of his dull black tail hardly adding any weight to him. He felt frail, breakable; like a bird.

If there’s any lingering chemical in there, it doesn’t seemed to have hurt fishguy, but then a creature from the upside down must be tolerant to plenty, Steve thinks, imagining the constant fall of ashy dust from the dark sky.

The creature cautiously approaches, and when he’s near enough, there’s a gentle tug on the weed, like the most cautious of bites on a line. Steve lets go, and both fish guy and weed disappear under the water.

“Do you think it worked?” Robin whispers, like they’re viewing a skittish wild animal. Which, they kind of are.

“Don’t know,” Steve whispers back, unable to stop himself. There’s just something about someone whispering to you that’s irresistible; it’s like an unavoidable instinct to follow suit.

“How will we know if it’s worked?”

“Dunno. Try another? See if he takes it?” Steve’s just about to break open the cooler again when the head pops up. All of it, this time.

He has dark hair. So dark it looks black; thick and ropey, it kind of reminds Steve of the vines of the upside down. His face is...pretty much human; just very pale. When he’s got his mouth shut, hiding the slight point of those teeth, nothing would give him away.

He lifts a hand out of the water, offering something to Steve who, gingerly but reflexively, takes it.

It’s the stalk of the weed. The leaves are gone, and the fleshy green of the outside has been carefully stripped off; use for those pointy teeth. Steve guesses all the plant material of the upside down is actually probably quite sturdy and quite hard to eat. It probably also has the nutritional value of wet cardboard.

Steve offers another weed, and the fish dude doesn’t leave this time. Steve watches as he eats; quick, practiced movements, trimming leaves with his claws, rolling them, eating them, then just as Steve suspected, using his sharp teeth to strip the outer stalk of all it’s fleshy wet goodness.

Steve doesn’t shudder at the thought of the mud at the bottom of Lovers Lake.

“Steve one, Henderson zero,” Robin says quietly, the fish man tipping his head to the side, as if he’s listening. Steve’s seen it a lot, the amount that the kids chatter at him, but the fish guy tends to stay at the other end of the pool to them. Watching. Nervous, and frightened, if Steve had to put a label on it.

But then, wouldn’t anyone be? Stolen from your world by unrecognizable creatures in hazmat suits. Shoved in a tank. Probably experimented on.

The whole thing sounds shitty.

Steve offers another weed, and the fish guy repeats the process, floating closer still, “Robin, humor me, go and see what’s in the crisper drawer.”

She follows his logic immediately, “on it.”

Steve watches the creature, the fish man, and the fish man watches Robin warily, moving away from the edge again a little, but coming back when Steve offers another frond.

He takes it, strips it, hands it back.

“We need a name for you man, I can’t just keep calling you ‘fish dude’ and ‘creature’ in my head.”

Steve looks over at the house, figuring he has another minute before Robin comes back, he taps the middle of his chest, fishguys strangely gimlet eyes tracking to movement from his too thin face, “Steve.”

Nothing. He tries again, pointing to himself and tapping, “Steve,” and then pointing to the creature, trying to get him to understand.

Fish guy swims a little closer, raising a hand out of the water. Steve sees the stubby but pointy black claws, like little ovals on the end of his fingers. His webbed fingers, Steve sees next, webbing stretched between them up to the first knuckle. He hesitates for a moment, but Steve doesn’t move, wanting to see where this is going.

Fish guy points cautiously at the center of Steve’s chest, close but not touching, lifting far enough out of the water to reveal protruding collar bones. He opens his mouth, and Steve watches with baited breath, fish guy frowning like he’s concentrating, such a human emotion on his face.

Footsteps, then, and he drops back into the water, backing away into the middle of the pool, sinking down so only his eyes are visible. Steve remembers to breathe; he’s not imagining it, something was about to happen. But he can try again tomorrow, once Robin has gone.

“I got some lettuce and some frozen peas,” she whisper hisses at him as she sits again, handing them over.

“Gimme the lettuce,” that seems like the next nearest thing to Steve.

Part two

[terrestrialnoob]

Continuation from Part 1

Jazz took a deep breath. It's going to be fine. She can be normal for one night. Even if Harley is willing to befriend weirdos on a whim she doubted anyone else would. The shadow beneath her feed rolled like boiling tar and emotions that weren't hers poked at her mind.

"It's okay, Jet. They're not going to hurt me. I'm just... nervous."

She took another deep breath, she'd been told to ignore the closed sign, and entered the Coal Mine. She wasn't sure what she was expecting with a name like that, but it looked like a normal, if kinda rustic bar. It was empty except for a blonde woman in the back of the room, setting up a big table with food and drinks.

"Sorry, we're closed to the pub-" She started speaking before she looked up, stopping once she saw Jazz. "Oh! You must be Jazz, Harley's new friend.... You're early."

Jazz's face turned a little red but she stomped down her unease. "Yep! That's me. Early bird Jazz."

The blonde woman laughed wholeheartedly, but Jazz didn't think her joke was that funny. The woman walked over to her, "I'm Dinah, welcome to my bar. I don't often host girls night, but you got lucky."

Jazz shook her offered hand. "It's a nice place!" Though, Jazz didn't really go to bars. She didn't drink a lot and bars weren't really her scene.

"Feel free to grab a snack, grab a drink. I'm going to finish getting ready. Everyone else tends to be late. Which I guess means you're not early, you're here when we asked you."

"Oh, alright! I'll remember to be late next time." Why did she say that? That's so stupid and rude.... But Dinah laughed again. "Right, um, if it's okay, I did bring something." Jazz offered the plastic bag she decided to reuse with a tray of fudge she made inside it.

"Oh, that looks good. I'll go get a knife and plate to set it out with the other snacks."

Jazz more or less sat in awkward silence as Dinah did her thing getting ready. She wanted to offer to help, but this is Dinah's bar. If anyone else was there, Jazz wouldn't feel the need to help, and she didn't want to get in the way. But this was a private party, so maybe Jazz should offer to help. Just to carry stuff to the table or-

Then the door opened again and two women came through. One was in an expensive looking leather jacket and with short brown hair and the other had a cheap looking leather jacket with long brown hair. The short haired woman started talking before she was even all the way through the door. "Dinah, you would not believe how bad traffic is downtown today. An entire hour to get from 19th to- oh, hello."

Jazz jumped to her feet when the woman addressed her. "Hi, I'm Jazz."

"Selina." She said with a raised eyebrow.

"Harley invited her." The long haired woman said. "You really should read the texts."

"I don't want to set a precedent."

"Still." The long haired woman nodded towards Jazz. "Name's Helena."

"It's nice to meet you." Jazz said with a smile, but it started to slip at the sight of Selina.

Selina gave her a hard look, sizing her up, judging. "You're Harley's friend?"

Jazz rubbed the back of her neck nervously. "She's been to my apartment... and invited me here."

There was a beat of silence before Selina gave an amused huff and said, "You do seem like her type."

Dinah laughed again - maybe she was just easy to make laugh. The two walked over to the table and Selina's eyes immediately settled on the fudge. She opened her mouth to comment but the door opened again and Harley burst through, pulling someone behind her.

"We're here! I even got a special something for- Jazz! You're here already!" She turned to the woman behind her and quickly pushed something into her hands before rounding back to the rest in the room. "Heya Jazzy! I'm happy you could make it! This is my wife - Ivy."

Ivy stepped forward and eyed Jazz with more curiosity than the suspicion Selina had or Helena's indifference or Dinah's more welcoming demeanor. "It's nice to meet you. Harley told me about her little visit to your home. You look... normal."

Jazz knew her face was even redder than before. "Well, normal is the goal, right?"

There was a beat when the other's in the room just seemed to stare at her. Harley barked out her own harsh laughter, "Not here it ain't!"

"O-oh..." Jazz didn't have a frame of reference for this. If normal wasn't what they wanted, then what did they want? Eccentric scientist like her parents? Harley was a vigilante, maybe that's what she should emulate?

"Don't worry." Ivy said as she passed Jazz to sit at the table, a potted plant on a nearby windowsill suddenly, and far too quickly, bloomed. "From what I've heard, I'm sure you'll fit in."

"Harley said that too. I'm just worried. I've never had my own friends before." Oh, shit, she shouldn't have said that. Only weirdos don't have friends.

"Same." Ivy said and picked up a piece of Jazz's fudge.

"Here too." Helena added, and gave the piece of fudge she'd been holding for a while a curious look. It must be unusual for everyone to react this way.

"IS THAT FUDGE? I love fudge!" Harley said and grabbed a handful to stuff in her mouth. "This is so good! Where'd it come from?"

"Oh. I made it. Didn't want to come empty handed, you know." Jazz said, joining the other's at the table and taking her own piece before Harley ate it all. "It's my mom's recipe, but it doesn't quite taste the same without the low-level radiation."

"Oh, you have to put the radiation in it next time!"

"Do not do that." Three other women at the table said in almost unison. Oddly enough, it was Helena who didn't join in.

"Why was there radiation in your mother's fudge?" Selina asked as Dinah started to deal out cards.

"My parents are kinda mad scientists - kinda also mad occultists. All the food in the house was contaminated, and part of the reason my brother and I are vegetarian." Jack and three.

Dinah seemed to loose her breath before wheezing out, "Even more the same."

"What?"

"I'm also a vegetarian, mainly because of the environmental nightmare farming is." Ivy supplied, she bet conservatively.

"Right, that's why my brother's friend is vegan."

"Wait, how does the contamination equate to being vegetarian?" Helena asked - getting excited as Dinah reveals the flop, a good hand then. "Did it make meat taste bad or...?

"Oh, it brought it to life." Jazz said as she traded a card. "I can't tell you how many reanimated headless turkeys and chickens I had to kill. Not to mention the hotdogs Dad trained to attack intruders, they also attacked friends and visitors too. That was too much, even for Spike."

"Holy shit, that's amazing." Harley said while Ivy and Selina looked horrified, Dinah was as entertained as Harley, and Helena was enjoying herself. "Can't say I've ever fought reanimated deli meats."

"Bruce has." Selina commented, and directed at Jazz, "My long-term boyfriend. Thought about marrying him for a little while, but it didn't really suit either of our lifestyles."

No animosity, only relief. Jazz smiled at her, "Different people have different needs. Not everyone needs to be married with children."

Dinah laughed, "And boy, does Bruce have children! How many does he have now? Six? Seven? I thought I read on the news he's got a new one."

"Technically yes, but he's just fostering Duke, not adopting. Once his parents are well again, he'll want to go home." Selina saw Jazz's curious face, but deflected to lighter gossip. "I'm not the motherly type, not that I'd be cruel to any kids I could possibly have especially if they're Bruce's-" She sighed "-but Bruce lives for his kids. He has four adopted children, one biological child from another woman - it's fine, we both have our fun - and two foster children.... I think."

"You're not sure?" Helena questioned. Dinah put out another card.

"I think Steph is a foster, but I never saw the paperwork for it. At the very least, she's living in his house." Selina said, then stared at Ivy. "Not getting lucky, dear?"

Ivy sneered and put her cards down. "I don't even know why I agree to this game."

"Is it the one game all night, or do you do other stuff?" Jazz asked. She's good at poker. Between her enhanced empathy and psychology degree, she was rarely fooled.

"Depends on the place. Dinah likes poker, so we play it when she hosts." Helena said, she looked at Jazz, then Harley and folded her cards. "And we quit when Harley wins all our money and play something else."

"That's right baby!" Harley cheered and slammed her cards face up on the table, "No one beats the Harley!"

Jazz and Selina put their cards down too, face up.

"I guess there are exceptions..." Harley said with a mischievous grin.

Selina grinned too, "Someone has to loose all of Bruce's money."

Jazz grinned as the pot was pushed her direction. "Well, then let me know when it gets boring of just me and Harley playing."

The entire table laughed. Yeah, Jazz was starting to feel like she really would fit in here.

[fangswbenefits]

Family

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: Miguel is a natural when it comes to being a father.

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

No warnings! Pure fluff! Dad Miguel.

A flock of birds took flight from a nearby tree and the ruffling of the leaves was a clear indication that there was an intruder nearby.

Your moment of peace and quiet was short-lived, but you remained still, folding under your head as both you an Miguel soaked up the Summer sun.

"Pa~pá!" sang a small voice from inside the canopy.

"Ye~ah?" Miguel said, focused on his dimensional travel watch.

"Look at me~e!"

"I'm looking."

"You're not looking!"

You wrinkled your nose at him behind a faint smile, “Miguel O’Hara, I will smash that watch into a million pieces if you don’t focus on your daughter.”

He glanced up at you. “The multiverse—”

“—can wait,” you reassured him, nudging his arm with an elbow. “Jessica is more than capable of taking over for a couple of days.”

He nodded, but only half convinced, which was good enough, considering this was the first time Miguel was taking a few days off from the never-ending stressful work of keeping the canon intact.

It was pleasant enough to be able to go to earth-616B on a little family trip and enjoy the countryside with the guidance of Peter, MJ and little Mayday.

But Miguel was… well, Miguel. A natural worrier who disliked handing over his responsibilities to others.

“Hey, you have something on your face,” he suddenly said in a low voice.

“What is it?” you immediately brought both hands to tap along your skin, searching for anything unusual.

He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on your cheek, which sent your heart into overdrive.

“Nice one, O’Hara…”

He replied with a teasing smile that you were so used to loving.

“EEEEW!” your daughter’s voice tore through the empty field, effectively distressing the surrounding fauna.

You watched as Miguel turned off the bleeping device on his wrist and rose from the meadow to his full height, headed toward the tree.

“Alright, little spider, come down.”

You spotted child of five descending upside down from a branch by her web, two front teeth missing, face covered in smudges of dirt, but beaming brightly at the signt of her dad.

“Papá!”

He helped her reach the ground safely and ruffled her unruly hair. “You need to be careful.”

Even from a distance, your heightened senses allowed you to feel the adoration in his voice.

The girl was wiggling now with barely suppressed excitement. "Hey, papá?"

Well, if that wasn't the most mischievous tone of voice you’d ever heard. "Hmm?”

"Do that thing."

"What thing?"

"The thing!"

"What thing?" he asked again, feigning confusion.

"THAT thing!" she cheered. "Where you go bzzzz and vssssssh and then BAM!”

"Oh," said Miguel. “That thing."

"Yep!”

"Maybe not," he sighed, but when her uplifted face began to wobble, you knew he had little choice. "Well, don’t tell mommy.”

"Yeeeaah!"

He brought a finger to his lips that she promptly mimicked. “Shhhhhh,” she then giggled.

“I can hear you!” you shouted, sitting on the grass to offer your seal of approval that came in the form of a wide smile.

You trusted her with Miguel, because Miguel trusted her with no one else but you. He would never consciously endanger his child, so you grew to accept that some of their playtime might involve something a bit riskier — as long as no loss of limbs was on the table.

She looked so tiny next to his impressive height, but was definitely a miniature copy of her father.

“We carry them inside us for months only for them to come out looking exactly like their father,” Jessica had once said and you wholeheartedly agreed.

He was wearing casuals, but his suit quickly began to engulf his entire body, leaving him only unmasked. Your daughter was bobbing happily along beside him.

"Stay back," he warned her lightly before sendind two laser-like red strings to coil around a thick branch, and effortlessly bending it into an arch until the tip hit the ground.

"Yey!" she yelped in excitement, toddling off toward the branch.

"Alright. Now, be careful.”

She met this warning with as much enthusiasm as she had for being offered an unlimited supply of candy of her choice. It didn't take much to excite her and you couldn't help but smile and follow as she began climbing up the branch with steady steps.

As she reached the middle, her knees bent as a way to maintain balance. “Do it, do iiiit!”

Miguel chuckled and the twin strings loosened ever so slightly in order to have it wobble up and down, sending the young child into a spiral of pure bliss.

“Faster! Faster!”

“Steady yourself,” he advised instead and she did as she was told, lowering herself and extending both arms as if riding a wave.

To a young spider, this was the closest thing they could get to a bouncing castle, so you didn’t mind this at all.

And neither did Miguel, because he instructed for her to climb onto his shoulders and offered the sweetest and most genuine smile ever.

He let go of the tree branch slowly, and his suit retracted at once, the little girl sliding both arms down his face for support and planting a kiss on top of his head.

“Did you have fun?”

"Yes!" she immediately said with a screech.

"And you’re strong and brave?”

"Yes!"

"And you know I love you, don't you?” he said as he paced toward you with her bouncing on his shoulders. “And mamá too, right? We'll always love you."

She was, delightfully, still very much of fan of such cheesy displays of affection. "Yes," she chirped happily.

You rose to your feet, feeling warmth spread throughout your body at the wonderful sight in front of you.

Miguel, for all his stubbornness and grumpiness, was a marvelous father. It was second nature to him.

"Another kiss?”

She leaned over and planted a noisy kiss on Miguel’s temple and giggled when he did his best to wipe it off with the back of his hand.

You welcomed them with a tight embrace and the feeling of a soft caress along your face as your daughter gave you a toothless smile.

"Let’s head out to uncle Peter’s house for a bath,” you said, pecking the palm of her hand.

“Don’t need one!”

Miguel squeezed her tiny calfs lightly. “Young lady, you do as your mother says.”

“But—”

Another squeeze and she bared her teeth, two tiny fangs emerging.

“Miguel, she’s showing off her fangs,” you said, feigning terror.

“Fangs away!” he said with a smile, bouncing her up and down his shoulders, which had her explode into a laughter.

Masterlist

[clockwayswrites]

Orange, City Pigeon, Danny & Batfam @roanawayspoons WC: 864 CW: Blood, injury

“I’m just saying, you shouldn’t get to be Red by default.”

“Well I can’t be Robin and Hood is a unique identifier.”

“No, nope, just because you weren’t creative enough to come up with something other than Red Robin you shouldn’t get to just claim Red.”

“Creative enough? Oh that’s rich from the man who ripped off the Joker.”

“It was poetic!”

“It was lazy.”

“Look here, bird bones—” …and Tim was gone, Jason thought with a sigh. He turned back to see Tim still before the last jump, staring down into the alleyway with a tilted head. Jason’s hand went to one of his guns. “Red?”

“Blood.”

“And? It’s Gotham. I think the city is held together by blood at this point.”

“Green blood, Hood.”

“How do you know it’s blood then?” Jason asked, but stalked forward to look. Alright, maybe the splatter was pretty distinctive.

That particular shade of green was also concernedly distinctive.

“Well, fuck.”

“Yep.”

“Who bleeds Lazarus water?”

“No clue,” Tim said unhelpfully. “Guess we better find out.”

They dropped silently down into the alley, one after another, and followed the trail of toxic green blood. The trail went cold a few times, whoever was bleeding was clearly trying to hide, but they were inexperienced at it and the Bats had spent enough time stalking through the streets of this city that the cement and stone basically spoke to them. The trail couldn’t hide from them.

Without warning, Jason shot his arm out to stop Tim. He tapped the side of his helmet silently; he heard something. Tim nodded and they fanned out to search. A door in this latest alley they were in was cracked open, like someone had tried to close it and it had bounced back off the latch.

A green hand print was smeared down it.

Jason pulled a gun from his holster, but let Tim go through first. While Jason was far lighter on his feet than someone his size should be, there was no denying that Tim was stealthier. Jason would be just a few steps behind ready to provide the muscles and firepower.

It was odd, then, when Tim purposefully let his foot scrape against the ground as he rounded the corner. Jason just cursed silently as the idiot continued forward, cutting himself off from Jason’s line of sight. “Hey, looks like you could use some help with that wound before you bleed out.”

Jason couldn’t hear what was said back; he edged closer.

“You must not be from Gotham. I’m Red Robin, one of the heroes here.”

The person snorted. “Just… over… then?”

Tim laughed. It was one of his many fake laughs, but the one meant to soothe people in trouble. “Why would I do that? I’m a vigilante. Do you know how illegal what I do is? I just don’t want to see you bleed out. Maybe I can even take you to a safe house where you can rest.

“So… interrogate me?”

“I mean, I’d like to know who tried to kill a kid, but that’s to make them pay, not you.”

Jason’s hand gripped his gun so tightly it hurt.

The person… the kid laughed. It was a broken sound that no kid should have to make.

Jason had heard it a lot on the streets.

“Maybe I deserve it.” Their voice was raspy, like every word caught in their throat.

Jason came around the corner. The kid went rigid, which was the last thing they needed with how blood seeped from their fingers where their pale hand was clutched against a too big hoodie.

Tim leaned casually into Jason's space in a way he wouldn’t normally, putting on a show for the kid that Red Hood was safe. It was at least true for the kid. Jason leaned back, mostly for the comfort of having his brother close in the face of the sight. Seeing bloody kids never got easier.

“You’re what, sixteen?” Jason asked.

“…fifteen?”

“Yeah, no fifteen year old deserves to bleed out. You know who I am?”

They shook their head. It dislodged the hood a little. The tangled, chin length hair was startling white and splattered with dried green blood. Jason forced himself to take a breath.

“I’m Red Hood. I protect part of this city called Crime Alley. I’m not afraid to kill a shithead, especially ones that hurt kids, but I never harm a kid. I’ve got places to put you if you need somewhere safe; places not in the system. Or get you somewhere. Do you have a place to go to?”

The kid laughed again. Somehow it sounded worse this time. “That’s the thing. I do. I might, I guess. Just no one is going to believe me.”

“Why won’t they believe you? Where do you need to get?” Tim asked.

The kid looked up. Jason felt Tim tense against him. Hell, Jason tensed. They were the wrong color, but Jason knew those eyes, those brows, that slope of the nose. Everything was just a little sideways, but Jason knew that face. He knew what the kid was going to say.

“I need to get to Bruce Wayne.”

--- AN: Happy Trauma Tuesday~

Feel free to continue this, use it as a prompt if you'd like!

[ghostbsuter]

Can be read as a continuation of this

.・゜-: ✧ :

Standing by Batman's side, Billy and Danny were very much standing out, ignoring that they're kids and in street clothes.

There was a curse, and the cave was flooded with various people, both recognised as Bruce's legal and otherwise wards.

Danny knows that blue bird symbol even if the vigilante was over 500 meters away.

"Nightiwing!" He cheers, nudging Billy who was still pouting.

The man in question seemed so confused.

A rough "behave" from batman, and they were both grumbling, Billy adamant that he didn't even do anything.

"Uh– B? Why are there two black haired, blue-eyed children behind you?" Nightwing approaches cautious, attention to the two now.

"You two orphans?'

"Yep!" "Yeah."

"...tragic backstory?"

A shrug and a 'so-so' gesture.

"Shit, welcome to the family then."

The words make Billy grin. "Nah, we're not adopted, as much as the big probably want to." He adds as afterthought. "It's just our week with the big bat!"

Spoiler, giddy, approaches as well. "Damn bigbat! Felt broody again?"

Danny laughs at the question, the man only grumbling.

"So, who are you two? I personally don't believe Batman would bring in two random orphans to the Batcave."

Their attention is now on Red Robin, who's idly playing with his staff.

"Well, I'm Danny! Danny Fenton."

Matching his mischievous grin, Billy gestures to himself. "Billy, Billy Batson."

"Stop being menaces and go on." Batman nudges the two, cowl resting somewhere and his brow is raised.

"You hurt us, Bruce!" Billy shakes his head. "And here I thought you of all people would take these secret identities serious!"

Somewhere someone mutters a 'of course they're vigilantes' and it has them grinning even bigger.

"Alright, we will tell you! Since we got busted not long ago anyway."

Two white rings split across his abdomen and reveal Phantom. Justice League member Phantom.

"I'm also known as Phantom!" Danny– Phantom!?— re-introduces, then gestures to Billy.

Getting into position, the teen with a feral glint in his eyes shouted. "Shazam!"

A bolt of lighting hits the cave– now wasn't that a freaky thing?— and Captain Marvel stands where Billy was.

"Captain Marvel, to your assistance."

Oh my god they are child heroes.

"We managed to trick the Justice League only for so long, unfortunately."

"Was amazing tho!"

"Definitely."

Oh my god, they were child heroes that managed to trick the big three.

(Silently, dick bemoans that they're gonna fit right in in their chaos, but now he got more brothers to spoil so yay?)

[namism]

deceiver | hange zoë

➳ categories: canonverse, commander hange, female squad leader reader, fluff, yelena loves women (don't ask)

➳ word count: 4.3k

➳ summary: It's normal for soldiers to be happily married, but when it comes to your marriage with Commander Hange Zoë, the entire regiment doesn't believe it.

➳ notes: for reference, this is wim and this is holger. also, i like to imagine that spouse hange simps for you so much that they ended up assigning you as the new squad leader of the fourth squad lmaooo

➳ cross-posted on ao3

"There you are!"

You turn around to see Hange enter the office and shut the door promptly with a loud thud. You flinch upon the sound. Curious as to what you’re up to, the Commander strides toward your station, where rows of microscopic slides sit for preparation.

Standing behind you, Hange rests their chin on your right shoulder and hugs your waist loosely. They watch you place a cover slip on a wet sample.

They hum.

"Just seven minutes ago, your squad was looking for you at the dining hall, which led me to think, 'Hmm… what could my beautiful wife be up to on this fine afternoon?'" You roll your eyes, snickering. "I would have never guessed that she'd be scholarly working at my office when she could've worked at hers."

"Oh, Hange," you say with a shake of your head. "Who am I to pass up on the opportunity of working at a larger space during my free time?"

You pipette a drop of infusion to a new slide.

"I admit it's messier here, but the Commander always has nicer things, and I happen to be married to them."

Hange pinches your cheek before kissing it.

"Ha-ha, cheeky. That's why you’re my wife."

Hange leaves you to your devices and walks around their desk. They pour themselves a glass of water before looking out the window. They watch a pair of new recruits walking in the quadrangle.

Hange smiles to themselves. The sight reminds them of when you first met, back when you couldn't even stand within three feet from them out of embarrassment. Hange was from the graduating class two years above you, and by the time you joined the Scouts, they had already earned their spot in the regiment's chain of command.

"What are you thinking of?" You appear beside them, having left your work on the counter. Hange giggles and points at the two suspecting love birds in the courtyard below. "Ah. From the 107th?"

"Yep! Looks like us, huh?"

You snorted.

"No way. They don't even seem to talk to each other. You, on the other hand"—you elbow Hange gently—"ran your mouth all day long until my ear fell off."

"You loved listening to me talk!" Hange retorts. You look at them, unamused. "Alright, I might have annoyed you at first, but you secretly loved having me around."

"Unfortunately, I did," you say with a sigh. Hange pats your head, laughing to themselves.

Suddenly, a knock sounds on the door. Hange orders them to enter.

"Commander!" A soldier from the 106th Training Corps calls with a salute. “Captain Levi requests to see you.”

Patting your head turns into combing your hair. Hange continues the endearing action as they raise an eyebrow at the soldier.

“About what?”

“About a prospective meeting with General Zackly, sir.”

“I’ll be there in a few.”

The soldier salutes again. Before leaving, he sees the Commander tell you something before kissing you on the lips. When the Commander looks back at the door to see him still standing there, he runs out in a hurry and shuts the door sheepishly.

Scurrying away from the scene, he runs into a friend.

“Hey, Holger,” the soldier greets. He looks at Holger worriedly as if he’s seen a ghost. “You okay, man?”

“Yeah, Wim,” he replies. He looks over his shoulder, gawking at the hallway he just came from, the one leading to the Commander’s office. “I was wondering…”

Wim squints his eyes at Holger’s mumbling. He tilts his head to the side.

“I can’t hear you.”

“I was wondering…” Holger mumbles the other half of the sentence.

“I still can’t hear you.”

Holger steps forward. Wim follows. Leaning closer to his friend, Holger whispers into his ear.

"I was wondering, is the Commander seeing someone? Maybe one of us, the Scouts?"

Wim is taken aback.

"How would I know that?"

"Because!" Holger hisses. He takes a cautious look over his shoulder to make sure that no one else is around before proceeding. "The Commander... They were with the Squad Leader of the Fourth Squad when I entered their office."

"Hmm..." Wim thinks to himself, rubbing his chin. "Why would you suspect a relationship over that?"

"Because the Commander kissed her!"

Wim's eyes widen. He stands there speechless, but he communicates with Holger through his eyes, asking for an affirmative answer to a question he never spoke: "Are you telling the truth?"

Suddenly, you emerge from the end of the hallway, humming a melodic tune as you flip through the yellowing pages of a book. The two soldiers stand there, unmoving. They cannot run to save themselves.

"Why, hello there," you greet with a sweet smile upon passing them. You close the book. "Do you need anything?"

They salute. Holger shakes his head.

"No, Ma'am! We were on our way."

You nod.

"Great! Because trust me, you don't want the Commander finding you dilly-dallying in the hallway of their office." You laugh lightheartedly, but Wim and Holger can't find it in them to laugh along as they fear their superior more than anything. "Anyway, off you go, and have a nice day, you two!"

As you walk along your merry way, the two soldiers look at each other dumbfounded before tending back to their duties.

Locomotives are great Marleyan inventions.

It turns out that locomotory wheels are conical in shape to avoid derailment when the tracks turn at a certain point. Connie remembers Armin mentioning something about centrifugal force, a concept he doesn’t understand enough to engage in intellectual discussion, but something he wants to ponder on to find out if it's worth learning in order to build the tracks from the Walls to the harbor.

The last time he checked, he doesn't really need to account for "centrifugal force" when laying steel on the ground. Connie may not be as intelligent as Armin, but he can understand that far. So really, he doesn't understand the need for Armin to ramble about "centrifugal force" under this scorching heat.

Mikasa hauls ultrahard steel from the cart to the end of the track. As she works on the welding, Armin chases Sasha around who has called dibs on the last pint of water. Connie and Jean curse behind Eren's back for suggesting they work on the railway instead of the new recruits who probably have nothing better to do.

Connie wipes the sweat off his forehead. Catching his breath, he decides to slack off for a few minutes. He watches Jean defeatedly sit on the ground panting, his fedora hat shielding his face from the sun.

Connie snickers. He finds the fedora hat on Jean funny. He looks like a rich snobby civilian from Wall Sheena.

To his left, Mikasa lays the blocks of steel neatly on the railway. Connie notices the scar she got from the Battle of Trost four years ago and the bandaging around her right arm that covers a tattoo of the Azumabito's crest.

Everyone has tiny details of themselves that normally go unnoticed, it seems.

As Connie wonders what his would be, he hears the clopping of hooves from the distance, followed by you, Hange, and Levi on horseback.

Connie helps Jean back up and they form a circle around the new arrivals.

"Ah! Working hard under the sun, I see?" Hange teases the group while Jean complains. You laugh beside them, bringing your left hand to cover your mouth. Connie notices.

"Since when did you guys get so tall?" Levi clicks his tongue, peering up at him with an irked expression. Connie continues to stare.

He doesn't know if he's seeing things correctly. For all he knows, it could be the heat messing with his brain. On your left ring finger, however, sits a metal band with a sparkling stone on its bed. Even as you put your hand down, Connie ponders on this discovery and zones out for the entirety of Hange's chattering.

He only manages to hear they cannot count on Hizuru to negotiate with other nations before staring at your hand like a creep. No one seems to notice his gawking, though, because he gets lost in his thoughts for a solid minute.

The last time he checked, you didn't wear a wedding ring, and you weren't into wearing jewelry at all for the fear of losing them at work. Although Connie isn't your closest friend, he believes he would have never missed out on this very important information about your life, given that you have survived many battles together along with the crew.

"...The world can't see our faces. Why would they ever trust us?" Connie snaps out of his thoughts and watches Hange throw their hands out. "So... let's meet them ourselves. If they don't understand who we are, we just have to teach them."

Meet them ourselves? Connie thinks to himself. We're going outside?

As the others reflect on the idea, Connie thinks of what he would do and should do upon arrival at the Marleyan mainland. He once again zones out, now staring at Hange as he does so.

Wait, what's that?

Closing his eyes, he shakes his head. Beams of sunlight bounce off Hange as they wave their hands around while speaking.

He narrows his eyes. Hange stops moving. They drop their hands to their side.

He sees it.

A metal band fits perfectly on their left ring finger, slightly different from yours in design, but too similar to conclude one thing.

Hange and (Y/N) are married?!

Connie looks into the distance, wide-eyed. He begins to rack his brain for clues, idle instances and memories that could have hinted at your relationship.

He focuses too much on his searching that he doesn't even notice you, Hange, and Levi retreating to the Walls and leaving him and the squad once more.

It must have been the heat yet again when he sees Hange put a discrete hand on your waist as you pass them on horseback.

Ever since the formation of an alliance with Paradis military, Onyankopon has been running around non-stop with Yelena to speak for the Anti-Marleyan volunteers. As expected, he rarely gets a day off without running into trouble, but when he does, he makes sure to enjoy it all by the ocean, where the Marleyan chefs have set up a dine-in food service by the dock.

He's sharing a table with Yelena when he hears a familiar voice fast approaching. His face lights up.

"Hange!" he greets the Commander with his hands up in the air. Hange sits on the chair beside him. "What have you come here for?"

"I ran an errand nearby, so I decided to come." Hange waves at one of the Marleyan chefs and shouts their order. The chef nods silently, his anger for the island devils long gone. "What are you up to?"

"I was thinking of some improvements for the gear you use to move around." Onyankopon hums, thinking if it would be a good idea to bring it up now. "Although that could be a discussion for another day."

"I would love to hear it!" Hange looks at the blonde woman sitting across them. "What about you? I take it that you've explored the island by how much work you've been doing."

"Unfortunately, nobody can beat the Commander in that sport," Yelena replies. Hange laughs bitterly. "I've been doing well, thank you very much. The people at Shiganshina are surprisingly welcoming, but I prefer the ones at Wall Sheena much more."

Yelena sips on the green tea in front of her. Hange stares blankly.

"O-oh! I'm guessing it's the weather or the district architecture?" they assume. Yelena shakes her head.

"While I fancy those things, I believe Wall Sheena has much more interesting… women. Some of them I eye particularly," Yelena remarks. "Has that ever happened to you, Commander?"

"W-well," Hange stutters, unsure of what to say, "no, it hasn't."

"Oh." Yelena smirks, placing her chin on top of her hand as she leans forward, studying Hange. Suddenly, she looks at their left hand intently, making them follow the direction of her stare. "Then what could possibly explain the new band on your finger if it weren't for a charming man who sought after you in the richer districts?"

Hange mentally sighs. They roll their eyes inside their head.

Onyankopon clears his throat.

"I believe I should stay out of this," he says, leaning back on the chair.

"It's alright. This is just small talk," Hange reassures him by giving a joyful response. They look back at Yelena. "Anyway, I find the outer districts more homey than the inner ones, but to each their own. I would have to correct you on two things, though. First of all, I was never sought after. I chase."

Yelena tilts her head to the side, intrigued. It seems very Hange-like to busy themselves chasing after people.

"And the second one?"

As soon as the food arrives, Hange grabs the big glass of water and downs half of it in one go.

"I have never felt interest for a man. Surprising?"

Yelena chuckles.

"Right, I should have detected it that far. No, it isn’t surprising," says the blonde. "I find women endearing as well. I apologize for my assumptions."

"I apologize, too." Onyankopon bows his head in guilt albeit being a spectator. Hange waves their hand to dismiss them.

"That's one lucky woman, I would say. It isn't often that you meet and marry a Commander," Yelena continues. Hange doesn't know how to feel about her persistence, but they've observed Yelena to be very persistent over the past two years. Her nagging is expected. "So? If she doesn't live in the inner Walls and the Commander doesn't have the time to roam civilian grounds... do we know her?"

Hange saw this coming. They knew Yelena would be able to deduce that far.

Instead of a proper response, they shrug.

"No idea, but as perfect as she is, I can tell you that you wouldn't get along well." Hange looks at Yelena's plate, steaming with food. "She would pick at your food if she had your meal, then she would give me the rest."

Hange invites Onyankopon to take the first bite and they begin to dine. Yelena is left laughing at herself.

"You got me, Commander Hange. I'm sure she is beautiful like the ones I'm fond of from your regiment."

"Of course she is."

As Onyankopon shifts the subject into something else, Yelena eats her food piecemeal, thinking of the mysterious identity of the Commander's wife. You must be a soldier yourself, but Yelena hasn't noticed anything out of the ordinary from the many people Hange surrounds themselves with. Yelena can usually tell when people are together thanks to her keen eye. It should be generally easier to find out who you are since there isn't a lot of women Hange is associated with, but her radar is still deeply challenged.

She shrugs. She'll figure it out in time.

Months later, the new gear comes in.

You open your trunk. As expected, the gear is similar to that of the Anti-Personnel Control Squad's. The main components of the vertical maneuvering gear are still there, save for the blade compartment replaced by single-use cartridges and pistols. The gas cylinder is wider than the ones from the previous gear, now attached to two axles strapped to the back harness.

You look to your right. Mikasa's equipment is missing the set of firearms in favor of blades. She stares at her trunk.

"We need you at the forefront in attacking the intelligent Titans," Levi speaks behind her. "No use in giving you stupid pistols. You can kill humans even with blades."

Mikasa nods. You look at your gear once more. No blades, just pistols.

"I'm guessing this makes me in charge of the human killing?"

Levi thinks to himself.

"Not quite."

You knit your eyebrows.

"Hange has other plans for you. Ask them."

Later that day, the Scouts are ordered to try on their gear and practice zipping around the Forest of Giant Trees to get accustomed to them. You and your squad watch as Mikasa flies around, flawlessly carrying four Thunder Spears on each arm.

A hand rests on your shoulder. You look behind you to find Hange in the new gear and the complementary black suit, their oval glasses replaced by goggles. You nod to your squad and they disperse promptly, leaving you and Hange alone.

"Looks like you've done it again, Commander. At long last, there are no major issues with the gear."

They sneer.

"It wouldn't be possible without the Anti-Marleyan volunteers. I owe half of it to them." They examine you in your uniform, eyes scanning your entire body like they haven't just done so a couple of minutes ago. "That sure suits you. Have you gone around?"

"No, actually," you tell them after muttering a shy 'thank you'. Suddenly, you place your hands on your hips as you remember something. "Hey, wait a second. Why don"t I have blades in my trunk? Are we not letting the Fourth Squad attack?"

Hange looks at you, unsurprised, as if they expected such a question.

"I need you to stay on the airship as backup," they reason.

You look at them dubiously.

"Just me?"

"And your squad."

You shake your head.

"I don't know. There seems to be a hidden motive behind that."

"Are you questioning my decision?" they challenge.

"I'm questioning you as your wife," you say, another one of your tricks to dodge insubordination. Hange scoffs. "What exempts my squad from this?"

"Squad Levi will be at the frontline if we're up against the Nine Titans. Your squad will only attack when things go astray. Until then, your job is to scout aerially and make sure that nobody intrudes."

You open your mouth to argue, but Hange hooks their gear to a nearby tree.

"Last one to get out of the forest is a loser!"

"Hey—!" Your words are interrupted by them flying away at top speed. You grumble. "Ugh, Hange!"

Launching a grappling hook on the nearest tree, you propel yourself forward as you chase them with all your might. Hange takes a sharp turn halfway through, but you predict their actions a second too early. They whiz past trees in random directions, passing fellow soldiers in the same uniforms that camouflage them all too well, but your agility allows you to keep up.

"Wow, you're getting too close," they remark upon looking over their shoulder and finding you only two trees away. "Maybe I should keep you with Levi at the frontlines— (Y/N)!"

"HELP ME!"

The operating device that controls the right grappling hook of your gear stops working the moment you dislodge the left hook from the tree behind you, sending you free-falling from 70 meters in the air. You press on the right-hand device again but to no avail. You try the left, but the steel wire is visibly stuck after immediate retraction.

The wind blows the hair away from your face as you free fall. All it takes is approximately 3.8 seconds for you to hit the forest floor, but when you protect your head and brace for impact, you are caught by Hange just in time.

"O-oh my gosh—" you try to process your thoughts as you clutch your heart.

Hange settles you down on the ground. The Scouts nearby halt their training and land on the surrounding tree branches, observing the aftermath of the incident. Members of your squad and Levi's arrive moments later, followed by numerous soldiers with inkling curiosity at your desperate shriek.

Still shocked, you tug at Hange's suit to thank them, but they look furious.

It's not your fault, but you feel small under their gaze.

Hange is a different person when mad.

"Are you okay?!" they ask frantically, one hand patting your body for any signs of injury as the other holds you tightly. Hange repeats the question, but you can't answer properly as you try to come into terms with the shock. You've used broken equipment before, but none of those instances were as life-threatening as this.

Hange notices your body trembling, and they take it as a sign to stop asking you any further.

"I'm sorry, love. I'm not mad at you, I just... ugh!"

Their face contorts into frustration once more. How is it possible that everyone else's gear is working perfectly fine, but yours isn't? Hange made sure to keep their instructions clear as the new equipment were distributed among the soldiers: keep the Fourth Squad's and Squad Levi's the most defect-free.

As Levi approaches, Hange remembers the engraving on the body of the device that should be present in everyone else's gear: a unique serial code that should differ from each one. They gently turn you on your side to check the engraving.

Their blood boils.

"Everyone, stop whatever you are doing!”

In the far distance, you can hear the soft whirs of the anti-personnel maneuvering gear coming to a halt, clearly hearing the voice of their Commander.

“Alright, now tell me which USELESS DIMWIT in the Walls decided to give MY WIFE the broken gear that I instructed MANY TIMES to get rid of before coming here?!"

The entire forest remains quiet, possibly even quieter than before. The Scouts stare at the Commander, reflecting on their words with mouths agape.

They collectively don't know which piece of information to process first: the fact that Commander Hange is fuming in anger of a possible sabotage or the fact that they had just revealed your marriage. Somewhere in the crowds of soldiers, a few gasp at the latter detail.

Albeit still trembling, your face heats up at Hange's outburst, feeling a hundred different pairs of eyes looking down at the both of you.

You shake Hange's arm.

"I-I'm okay, you were there just in time, Hange—"

"Until I find out the idiot who did it, nobody is leaving this stupid forest!"

"Oi, Hange. Have mercy on your wife." Levi points at your shaking form. Your head faces the ground, afraid to look up given the commotion. Two of your squad members rush beside you for comfort. "It could have been intentional. Don't act rashly now."

Hange inhales deeply to respond to Levi's statement, but they hesitate as rationality strikes them. They momentarily let go of you to push their goggles to the top of their head before squeezing your hands tightly.

"I'm so sorry. Change out of your gear and leave with your squad. I'll meet you later."

You find it better to follow than to disobey them. Standing up from the ground, you immediately lean in for a hug. Although not as intimate as you normally would, Hange embraces you back and you feel even more eyes peering at the two of you.

"Thank you so much. I love you."

"I love you, too."

As you leave with the Fourth Squad, Wim and Holger stare at each other, their jaws reaching the floor. They can't communicate freely in the environment they're in, but their wide eyes are enough to articulate the incredulity and satisfaction of knowing that they were right all along.

By the foot of the trees, Connie stands in between Armin, Jean, Eren, Mikasa, and Sasha, who are equally dumbstruck by the revelation.

Connie looks at Sasha, whom he has amazing telepathy with.

Did you know this? Sasha asks. I did not know this.

I think I knew this, Connie replies.

How do you 'think that you know this'? Sasha asks again. Either way, that's not fair! I didn't know!

Connie shakes his head. Nobody did for certain. Maybe except for Captain Levi.

The ride back to the Survey Corps headquarters is silent. You're too shameful to talk to your squad members as close as you may be, but you're grateful for their understanding of your boundaries.

On your way to the headquarters, you pass by the Anti-Marleyan volunteers with Yelena notably in the crowd. Her face brightens up the moment she sees you in the new maneuvering gear; she thinks you look a thousand times prettier than your day-to-day style. She makes her way to your sauntering horse, then tries to catch your attention with a friendly wave of her hand.

Before she can speak with you, one of your squad members taps her shoulder and shakes his head. Yelena slows down her pace and decides to lag behind with the man who had tapped her.

"Squad Leader (Y/N) doesn't want to speak to anyone at the moment," your squad member explains. Yelena raises her eyebrows, awaiting further explanation. "She is following Commander Hange's orders."

"What does the Commander have to do with whom she speaks to?" Yelena asks, finding it ridiculous that Hange would impose such a dumb rule for you to follow.

The man looks panicked.

"Well... she is the Commander's... wife," he replies, unsure if he should be spreading such information that was only revealed to him not more than 20 minutes ago. Yelena nearly stops walking.

What the hell did he just say?

A random memory from many months ago occurs to her.

Onyankopon, the Commander, and the Marleyan chefs. The dining service by the harbor. Yelena noticing the wedding band on the Commander's finger. Commander Hange mentioning their preference, making their interests clear.

Yelena deducing that they were married to a fellow soldier.

"Apologies, but I will be on my way," the man bids goodbye and commands the horse forward to catch up to the rest of the squad. Yelena is left by the side of the road, alone in shock.

She chuckles bitterly.

Out of all people, she thinks to herself.

At the very least, Hange was telling the truth. You are beautiful.

[brittle-doughie]

Anticipated Arrival (Golden Cheese Cookie)

Previous part with Dark Cacao Cookie!

You turned off the faucet as you wiped your face with water, but only with so little as not to soften up your dough. You take a deep breath as you look up at the mirror.

You weren’t looking alright. Tired eyes, a bit of sweat here and there as if it was always a little heated whether you go, and the constant..visions that you see out of the corner of your eyes.

A cookie of blue that lets out little laughs that make you turn your head at nothing and silhouettes of a cookie of white within the shadows, doing nothing but…stare, speaking only briefly…

“Ehehe…”

“Set yourself free, cookie…”

“It’s only a matter of time…”

“Let yourself go..and return to Beast-Yeast..”

You shake your head at those voices in your head. You can’t, you didn’t want to. Things have only gotten worse ever since your first visit to that place….as you glance at your forehead and your wrists…

A faint eye on your forehead and specks of flour on your wrists….these things only you can see, invisible to others…always there no matter how hard you tried to remove them…

A knock at your door snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Excuse me, your Majesty. A little bird has come with a message, it says that it was of a urgent matter. Do I say that you are unavailable at the moment?”

A little bird? Oh dear, was it one of the Blueberry Birds?

“No, I’ll be there right away, Blackberry Cookie. Just..gimme a second.”

“Of course, your Majesty.”

———————————————————————

It wasn’t a blueberry bird.

A cheesebird was waiting for you in the throne room, a letter in its beak. Cheesebirds were only native to the Golden Cheese Kingdom, so it could only mean that Golden Cheese Cookie had sent this bird to you.

“Chirp, Y/N Cookie! Your Majesty!”

“You’ve flown quite far to hand me this letter, what is going on at the Golden Cheese Kingdom?”

“Golden Cheez Cookie has asked for your support! She needz help with moving thingz to her Secret Vault! Chirp!”

“This letter seems to be accurate. Is that all there is to it? Just helping her move things to a hidden spot? Nothing…too dire I’m going to guess?”

“Terrible thingz she sayz might happen! She needz your help just in case! Chirp!”

“If that’s all, then I’d be glad to help her. I just need a moment to catch my bearings…”

A part of you wanted to stay, this was too coincidental during the recent rise of the Beast Cookies to be unrelated…you had no intention to go back to that horrid place…

But you can’t just turn away Golden Cheese Cookie if it really was something as simple as that, not after what had befallen her and her kingdom…

You steeled yourself and went to gather your things….

———————————————————————

“Your Majesty, Y/N Cookie has arrived!”

“Have they? Bring them here!”’

You walked in to the main entrance to the pyramid, the cheesebird on your finger. You tell it to fly away now as you turn your attention to Golden Cheese Cookie.

“Golden Cheese Cookie, I’ve gotten your message. What seems to be the pro-oh my goodness!”

“Oh, it’s good to see you again, Y/N Cookie! It’s been a while since you were here, but it’s felt like forever!”

“Oh!”

You barely finished your question before Golden Cheese Cookie rushed at you and held you closely, wings around you two like a makeshift barrier from the outside world. You were kind of expecting that and immediately reciprocated the hug.

“Ehehe, yep! It’s been quite some time, Golden Cheese Cookie. It’s good to see you again too.”

“It’s perfect timing, I’ll need your help to move the last of the soulcheese to the Secret Vault I have prepared!”

“You said it was because grave danger might come to the kingdom. What exactly is this danger? Is it Dark Enchantress Cookie?”

“Not just her, but the Beast Cookies that Pure Vanilla Cookie has told me in his letter.”

Beast Cookies…

You already felt a little lightheaded, you leaned on a pillar for a minute. Golden Cheese Cookie was quick to tend to you.

“Y/N Cookie, are you alright?! You lose your balance there!”

“I-I’m fine. Just a little desert heat making me feel hot, I need to stand in the shade for a bit.”

“Very well, but we must make haste. There’s no telling when and where these Beast Cookies might make their attack!”

“Y/N Cookie…? Y/N Cookie, you’re looking off! Y/N Cookie!”

———————————————————————

You felt like you were back in that cocoon…

Couldn’t move…

Only able to directly face…Mystic Flour Cookie…

“Why do you keep resisting the truth? That all of your efforts to stay away will only bring you closer to us…”

No, it couldn’t be…this had to be a dream…the shaking, the feeling of tiredness, sweating like mad…

Your wrists…the flour on them was very much visible…

“I promise that this is all very real. My marking makes sure that I can have this connection with you…”

“No! Get out of my head!”

“You are only delaying the inevitable, Y/N Cookie. It is completely futile to try and fight it…”

Her voice quiets to a sickening whisper…that smile on her face as it darkens…

“RETURN TO US, Y/N COOKIE.“

———————————————————————

“Y/N Cookie, are you there?!”

You gasped as you wake from your nightmare, standing up from the pillar, looking at your wrists to see the familiar faded marks of flour from Mystic Flour Cookie.

That only you saw….

Golden Cheese looked worried at you, holding you by the shoulders.

“Y-yeah, just..a little tired from last night, hehe. Just needed a little snooze is all..”

“Are you sure that’s all to it? You can tell me if something is troubling you.”

“Y-yeah! I’m good!”

“Please…just..promise me that if you ever feel wrong, you’ll tell me right away!”

“I will, I….promise. Now, what was it about some soulcheese you needed moving?”

“Oh! Yes, I need your help to move the last remaining soulcheese to the Secret Vault! Let us go!”

It pained you not to tell her…but she couldn’t know…

She can’t learn that you’ve been haunted ever since you first stepped on Beast-Yeast.

She’ll be fine if you didn’t tell her just yet.

Right…?

[sturnstars5]

i’ll show you how to be quiet- chris sturniolo

when chris won’t shut up for 2 seconds, you force him to be quiet and let you take control.

bf!chris x dom!fem!reader

warnings(mdni): oral (m recieving), swearing, suggestive terms, orgasm denial

enjoy!!

“so then, i looked at that bitch and told her how much of a bitch she was!” nick says, talking about some girl from his brand meeting.

“nick!” matt and you say in disbelief.

“i mean, someone had to say what we were all fucking thinking! she told me that-“

“do you guys want pizza for dinner?” chris interrupts.

“chris shut your mouth i wasn’t done.” nick replies.

“sorry, i’m just hungry. i saw this ad for pizza and then i got to thinking about places that have good pizza, then i thought about mini pizzas, then i realized how hungry i was-“

“chris, shut the fuck up! can you not go two fucking seconds without yapping about fucking nonsense?” nick says.

“whatever, but seriously, can somebody go pick up some pizza?” chris says, making everyone giggle.

“fine, matt and i will go pick up pizza for dinner. are you happy?” nick says.

“yep!”

“alright, see you in a little bit. don’t drive y/n crazy, either.” nick says, walking out the door with matt.

“while they’re gone, do you wanna watch a movie?” chris asks, cuddling beside you on the couch.

“sure!”

chris puts on you guys’ favorite movie, scream.

“have you seen that one video of that dog and that bird?” chris asks.

“mhm.” you reply, focusing on the movie.

about 2 minutes later, chris asks you another question.

“do i snore really bad when i sleep? because matt says i do but i sleep with you more, so i figured you would know-“

“nick was right, wasn’t he.” you interrupt.

“what do you mean?” chris says.

“you really like to talk a lot don’t you?” you ask.

“yeah, i guess so.”

“come with me.”

you lead chris back to your shared bedroom.

“lay on the bed, i’ll show you how to be quiet .” you instruct.

chris does what he’s told, laying on the bed while staring up at you. you’ve barely done anything, and you can see the tent growing in his sweatpants.

you reach over on you nightstand, grabbing a roll of tape that’s laying in the junk drawer. you rip off a piece, taping chris’ mouth shut.

“you stay quiet for me, alright?” you say. he nods in response.

you grab the waistband of his sweatpants, and you slowly pull them down, throwing them off of the bed once they’re off. his underwear go next, and now his lower half is completely exposed.

you straddle chris’ bare lower half, and you start to slowly stroke his length, teasing the tip as you run your hand down him.

you can hear his muffled needy moans through the tape, begging you to go faster so he can release.

“you wanna come, chris?”

“mhmm!” he desperately moans out.

you go faster, finding a good pace that pleasures chris, but leaves him needing more. he cries out into the tape, desperately begging for you to let him come.

“wow, so desperate, aren’t you? you really wanna come, don’t you?” you say.

“mhm! mhm!” he muffles out.

“well, you haven’t been very quiet, so i’m gonna make you wait a little longer.”

chris groans in response, desperate to release.

you graze his tip again, your finger dampening as he leaks precum onto it. chris whimpers with need.

you take pity on him, so you lower mouth onto his tip, swirling your tongue around and gathering his precum.

you run your mouth down his length, hollowing your cheeks and tightening your lips around his dick. you place your hand at the base, stroking up and down.

you go faster, and in response chris moans against the tape.

you keep going until you see his stomach flex, and you feel his warm cum coating your throat.

you rip off the tape, chris still speechless and breathless.

“have you learned your lesson?” you ask.

“i’m gonna talk more often so we can do this more.”

“christopher!” you giggle.

“pizzas here!” you hear nick and matt yell from the kitchen.

“good timing.” you and chris say, walking into the kitchen.

thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed!

[a-case-of-attachment]

Okay, writing prompt if you're interested. LuciferXreader, making out in a pile of rubber ducks. It may be weird as hell, but also really cute and funny. AND!! Laughter is a healthy part of any relationship!

Yes I’m interested!!!!!!!!!

I hope this is what you’re after, it kind of got away from me and I spent way too long thinking about what all those little duckies could do.

Lucifer had a problem, one of his own making that was yellow and sometimes quacked, maybe barked, there was even ones that spoke backwards and in riddles. They came in all kinds of colours and did all sorts of things. He had a purple one that could teleport, a rainbow one that shot confetti out of its mouth when it was squeezed, he even had one that glowed in the dark and played lullaby’s. The point was that Lucifer had made a lot of rubber duckies over the years but he didn’t realise quite how many until he was looking for one specific duck.

“Where are you, you little piece of…” Lucifer grumbled, his words trailing off as he dived into another mountain of ducks, sending them tumbling down to join the rest that had spilled over the floor. He had been at this for a while now, sending his work room into chaos and all because Charlie had been telling Vaggie all about one she had seen him making when she was a child. She hadn’t asked him for it and Lucifer had honestly forgotten it existed until she had brought it up but she seemed so enamoured with it that Lucifer had decided there and then that he had to gift it to her as a reminder of happier times in her childhood. The only problem was that he couldn’t find the damned thing and he was quickly running out of patience.

“You alright there love?” Lucifers head jerks up and round at your amused voice, blinking dumbly at the sudden brightness of the room. Your leant against the door frame, eyebrows furrowed slightly but a teasing smile tugging up the corners of your mouth. You were a vision, a ray of sunshine through the grey cloud that had been steadily forming over him. “Yep! Everything’s fine. Hahaha. A oh kay. What erh, what are you doing here darling?” Lucifer laughed nervously, his cheeks heating up with embarrassment at being found in such a state.

He had abandoned his hat and jacket ages ago, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows and his gloves somewhere within the sea of ducks. Lucifer had unbuttoned his collar at some point, his bow tie pulled loose and hanging around his neck like a sad flat little snake. His face must be flushed by now and his hair that was once neat and styled probably looked more like a birds nest now, stick up in every direction and clinging to his forehead.

“Charlie called me. Seems someone has been ignoring her calls and texts for the past couple of hours and she wanted me to check in and make sure they hadn’t gotten so involved in a project they forgot to eat again. Clearly she was right to worry.” You gave him a pointed look, clearly expecting an answer for his current predicament. Bitting his lip Lucifer let his eyes sweep across the carnage that was his work room and the vast amount of ducks he still had to get through. He needed help or he was never going to get through all these, not any time soon anyway and who better to help him than you? He always wanted to spend more time with you and this would keep you in close proximity for quite some time. It was a win win in his books and he was damn sure going to take full advantage of it.

Groaning Lucifer let his shoulders slump and looked back to you, finding you in the exact same position you had been in before though your eyes had softened slightly now, worry starting to creep in at the edges. “I’m looking for a duck,” he stated, nodding slightly after he had spoken like it was that simple of an answer. “Oh really? Never would have guessed.” Lucifer glared at your sarcastic reply, huffing loudly and crossing his arms over his chest in an overly obvious display of indignation that you both knew was just for show. The gentle laughter his behaviour got him sounded sweet, even as you rolled your eyes and pushed away from the doorframe. He always liked the sound of your laughter, like music that soothed his soul and made his heart ache all at once.

“Alright your majesty, are we looking for one in particular or is this a know it when a see it situation?” You raised an eyebrow at him in question as you sank down onto one of the few spots of clear floor. “It’s made of crystal, has a really cute teeny tiny crown on its head.” You hummed at Lucifers words, your attention now firmly on the ducks that surrounded you. “And when did you last see it?” Lucifer winced at your question, tugging at his already loose collar and refusing to make eye contact with you when you glance in his direction. “I don’t know, maybe a couple of centuries ago. Charlie was about five or six at the time.” You made a weird choked off noise when he said centuries, Lucifer catching a glimpse of your hand slipping on the pile of ducks you had been looking at and sending a couple more tumbling to join the ones that Lucifer was already half buried under.

He offered you an apologetic smile and hopefully his best puppy dog eyes in an attempt to soften any sort of regret you might be feeling at having sat down to help him. It must have worked because you sighed heavily before rolling your shoulders back and sitting up straighter. “It’s fine, we’ll find it and when we do you are sooo going to make it up to me with back rubs and kisses.” Lucifer agreed readily, nodding his head and promising you that and a thousand things more. “Right! We are going to do this one duck at a time, sorting as we go. We will have four separate piles, one pile for the ones that are just rubber ducks with a unique paint job and another for the ones that do something useful.” Lucifer opens his mouth to protest because all his duckies are useful but a quick glance from you has him closing it before he can even get a sound out. “There will also be a pile for ones that do pointless things and another for the ones that are just plain dangerous.”

“They are not dangerous!” Lucifer insisted, snatching up a random duck and squeezing it to prove his point. There was a loud click followed by sound of metal grinding together and Lucifer looked down in horror as the barrel of a pistol slid out of the ducks now open mouth. “Hahaha, how did that get there?” Huffing you held your hand out expectantly and Lucifer reluctantly handed the traitorous thing over, making sure the postal was safely back in place first. Without a word you leant over and pushed a section of the ducks out of the way, clearing a patch on floor in front of you. The gun toting duck was place down gently, looking way too sweet and innocent for what it hid within.

You picked up one from next to you and held it out towards Lucifer. “What does this one do?” He squinted at the thing, turning his head slightly to the side as he tried to remember what this one did. It was yellow like most of them except this one had a red rimed beak that made it look like it had lipstick on. “Lipstick!” Lucifer shouted out triumphantly, his sudden outburst causing you to startle. “It’s lipstick, retro rouge if I’m not mistaken.” You turned the duck toward you, tilting your head quizzically as you squeezed at its sides. It’s beak parted as a stick of bright red lipstick emerged. “Huh,” you said, loosening your grip on the duck so the lipstick went back in before placing it on the floor a few inches away from the other duck. You picked up another, this one yellow with black spots and held it out towards him. “What about this one?”

This goes in for hours, one duck after another and though it would normally be a rather tedious Lucifer is having fun. Some of his duck creations really are bizarre, like the one that changes colour depending on the time of day in Hawaii or the one that screams whenever someone says pineapple. There are some good ones though, like the one that generates a personal forcefield that’s lasts up to an hour when placed on your head or the one that cleans your bath after you’ve used it. The useful pile was a lot smaller than the others though, the useless ones needing a whole corner of the room to themselves. You had even found one that said ‘I’m quackers about you’ in a squeaky voice when squeezed, a little heart shaped box of chocolates with Lucifers hat emblazoned on the front held between its wings.

Lucifer had refused to hand that one over, especially when he realised you intended to put it in the useless pile. A had sat there, cooing at the thing and stroking its head whilst you glared at him. So preoccupied with the duck Lucifer didn’t have time to prepare himself as you suddenly lunged across the space, hands grabbing for the sweet little ducky. The two of you had spent far too long rolling around the floor and tussling for the duck until finally you came to a stop, sprawled across Lucifer and the both of you breathing heavily. You were close, head hovering above his as you stared into one another’s eyes. All Lucifer would need to do is tip his head back and then he would be able to kiss you, one of his favourite things to do these days. His eyes dropped to your lips as your tongue snuck out to wet them, your teeth nipping at your bottom lip enticingly. Lucifer sucked in a deep breath, his hand flexing on your waist where it had ended up in your little play fight. Your head lowered slightly, eyes darting down to his lips then back to his eyes as if asking permission that you really didn’t need. From down by his hip there came a loud quack followed by ‘I’m quackers about you’ then another quack effectively bringing a sudden end to the tension growing between the two of you.

The two of you dissolved into laughter, Lucifer wrapping his arms around your middle as you buried your face in his neck. You lead there for a while, laughing softly until that trailed off and the two of you when just lead there, holding one another and surrounded by ducks. It had been nice if a little weird but Lucifer wasn’t complaining. “It’s true you know,” he said softly, not wanting to ruin the moment but his words had you shifting, pushing yourself up slightly so you could look down at him with confusion. “What is?” Your voice was just as soft as you spoke, the hushed tone adding to the intimacy of the moment. Sighing Lucifer reached up, cupping your check and rubbing his thumb gently across it. “I really and quackers about you,” he deadpanned.

The stunned silence that hangs between you goes on a lot longer than Lucifer thought it would and despite how hard he tries he can’t help the large smile that spreads across his face or the laugher that comes bubbling out. Groaning loudly you finished pushing yourself up into a sitting position, shoving Lucifer back down when he tried to follow. “You’re terrible,”you mumble, shifting back over slightly to avoid nocking into a stack of ducks. Lucifers still chucking when he sits back up, effortlessly catching the rubber duck you half heartedly throw at him. “Mmmm, and yet you still love me.” Lucifer wiggled an eyebrow at you, leaning in slightly to emphasise the ridiculousness of the gesture. This time it was you who couldn’t help but smile, huffing in amusement and shaking your head at him. “Yeah, I do.” Lucifer beamed like the cat who go the cream at your words, always feeling like his heart could take flight every time you told him you loved him. Truly a bizarre phenomenon that would need much more research done into it, requiring you to tell him often and in multiple ways how you felt about him. “Now come on, this bloody duck isn’t going to find its self.” Lucifer took the duck you held out to him, a hot pink one with a flame branded on its chest, and quickly lent forward to place a kiss on the back of your hand before he started telling you all about the duck and how it could be set on fire and wouldn’t melt.

That had been a good few hours ago though and night had settled heavy over the city since then. Over half the room had been cleared now, Lucifer having opened a portal and dumped all the colourful, boringly normal ducks onto a sleeping radio demon to create some extra space for you both. There was still no sign of the duck he was after though and the both of you were clearly tired, the process having slowed down considerably in the last half an hour or so. He’s beginning to think it’s a lost cause, the duck long since lost or broken.

You yawn loudly, arms stretching out above you before you fall back into the heap of ducks behind you. The groan you make sounds almost painful as you wiggle in an attempt to make yourself more comfortable amongst the ducks. Your eyes close, hands disappearing into the sea of yellow above you. Despite how horribly uncomfortable it must be you look content and Lucifer wants nothing more in that moment than to crawl over there and join you, curling up against your side and resting his head on your chest so you can both get some much needed sleep. As much as he wanted to give into temptation Lucifer was determined to find the duck for Charlie, fixated on giving her that little moment of happiness and wonder that had stayed with her since childhood. That didn’t mean you had to suffer with him though.

“I think it’s time you were getting to bed darling, I can finish up in here.” Your eyes open slightly at his words, brows furrowed and your smile slipping into a frown. “Lucifer.” There was an odd tone to your voice, one that he probably should have paid more attention to but Lucifer assumed he knew what you were going to say so he kept on talking, turning away from you to continue looking through the ducks as he did so. “I know. I should be trying to get some sleep as well but you know I won’t be able to, (Lucifer), not till I’ve found this duck anyway and I really just want to surprise Charlie with it. She seemed so happy when she was talking to Vaggie about it and I just wanted to, (LUCIFER!)” Your loud cry of his name had Lucifer jumping, dropping the duck he had been holding to the floor with a loud splat as it oozed out like a marshmallow melting in the sun.

Laughing nervously Lucifer turns back to you, an apology already on the tip of his tongue but it quickly disappears when he sees what you’re holding. You’ve sat up, eyes fixed on your hand that you’re holding out towards him. In your palm sits a crystal duck, a small black crown sat atop its head styled similarly to Charlie’s own. Lucifer sucked in a breath, reaching out to take the thing from you with trembling fingers. He can’t believe you had found it, just when he was starting to lose hope. You truly must be heaven sent.

Without warning Lucifer lunged at you, flinging his arms around your neck and sending you sprawling back into the ducks with a yelp. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” Lucifer said between peppering your face with kisses. “Lucifer,” you laugh, turning your head to the side and giving him access to your neck. He places a few more quick pecks along your neck and the top of your shoulder before placing one final one on your lips.

“She’s going to be so surprised,” Lucifer beamed, pushing himself back up and turning towards the door, a wide smile on his face as he stared down at the crystal duck clutched in his hand. He didn’t get more than two steps towards the door before fingers wrapped around his wrist and stopped him in his tracks. Frowning Lucifer looked back over his shoulder at you, finding you looking at him just as confused as he was you. “Where are you going?” Lucifer blinked down at you dumbly because surely that was obvious? “To give Charlie the duck?” It came out slow and sounding more like a question, Lucifer even holding up the duck in case you had forgotten.

Your confusion smoothed out into understanding, a small smile curling up the corner of your lips. “Lucifer,” you said almost teasingly, tugging gently on his wrist until he turned to face you fully. “It’s the middle of the night love. She’s going to be asleep, and even if she isn’t she’s probably going to be doing something she doesn’t want her dad walking in on.” You look at him pointedly, waiting for your words to sink in. “Oh…ohhhh,” lucifers eyes went wide, looking down at the little duck in a mix of horror and embarrassment.

You chuckle gently, tugging on his arm and causing him to take a step towards you. “So why don’t you,” you plucked the duck from his hand, leaning back to place it on top of the coffee table before turning back to him and wrapping your hands around his wrists, “come back here and finish giving me my reward hum?” You tugged him forward and down, Lucifer’s knees hitting the floor on either side of your waist with a dull thud. You used your hold on his wrists to lift his hands and place them on your shoulders before gripping his waist and pulling him down and closer until he was sat in your lap. Lucifer blushed, licking at his lips and swallowing slightly. “I eh, I can do that.” You hummed at his words, lifting one hand to cup his cheek and guiding his lips down to yours.

The first few kisses were soft and slow, Lucifer humming gently at the addictive feel of your lips moving against his. He sank into you, getting more comfortable on your lap and letting his arms drape over your shoulders. The two of you stayed like that for a few long minutes, Lucifer content to spend hours just like that but it seemed you had other ideas. Pulling back you nipped gently at his lip, Lucifer letting out a little whimper at the sudden sting. Resting your forehead against his you slid both your hands up his back, pressing him as close to you as he could get. “Hold on tight,” you mumbled, placing a kiss against his lips.

Lucifer barely had time to register what you had said before you were moving, effortlessly tipping him to the side and rolling him onto his back. He landed within the ducks with a dull thud, several of the stupid things tumbling down to land on his face. Your laughter was sweet as you helped remove the offending ducks off his face, leaving the ones that had fallen around his head and shoulders. “There you are handsome,” you smile as you remove the last one from his head, clearly delighting in the bush your words get you. “Your erh, looking rather radiant as well.” Lucifer cringes at his own awkward attempts at flirting, refusing to look at you because of how awfully that was. You would think he would have gotten better at this sort of thing over the centuries but there was something about you that just left him flustered and unable to say what he means when in your company. When you’re not around he can wax poetry about how your smile lights up the world like a sunbeam or how your eyes sparkle like the stars, but now? With you looking down at him like he’s your whole universe? Not happening.

You shift to the side slightly, slotting one of your legs between his and pressing up against him. “Only when you’re the one looking,” you whisper before pressing your lips against his, using his startled gasp as an opportunity to deepen the kiss. Lucifer moans softly, wrapping his arms around your neck and pulling you in closer. There’s a duck digging into his back and the sound of muffled quacking coming from somewhere above him as their movements caused another wave of ducks to fall down in them. It was ridiculous, kissing in a pile of ducks that were threatening to swallow the two of you up but Lucifer found he didn’t really care, especially when your tongue swiped across his lips, seeking permission that he readily gave. This here, this was the closest to heaven he had felt in eons and he was content to stay in this moment for eternity. Well at least till Charlie woke up anyway.

[valentinaagarcia]

twisted wonderland characters as things i've heard in the locker room... pt.3

(yall re probably like "what the hell val? another one🤨🤨 yes. another one. ans for my new readers- im on the boys team as a gril)

(yuu is what i responded)

----

floyd: sometimes i just feel like i wanna kill myself

ace: me too man

jamil: im actually gonna kill myself.

----

ace: sticking our your gyatt...

floyd: for the rizzler...

jamil: get out.

----

ruggie: i love you man have a good game

leona: yeah.

ruggie: your not gonna say i love you back?

leona: what if i killed myself

----

yuu: someone hook me up

kalim: i have a cousin i dated for three months before realizing she was my cousin, i could hook you up with her!

yuu: what th???

----

ace: yeah and the worker was like "dont open door i told you dont open door!" (filipino accent)

deuce: oh oh and then he was like "i scold you, you open door again i hit you!" (filipino accent.... not filipino)

ace: ohawh.. man uh.

deuce: what?

yuu: dude you cant say it like that since your not asian

deuce: what? but you talk like a hispanic person all the time?

yuu: i wonder why.

----

riddle: okay, lets just move on from the accent thing alright?

deuce: yep! ill stick to my accent and stop using others

trey: howdy y'all, good game mate

deuce: howdy mate! good gam..

riddle: ...

deuce: ill stop using other accents... starting now

----

cater: hispanics are so HOTT like you guys dont get it

jack: shut up were meditating before the game quit it with your hispanic fetish.... god

cater: you guys dont get it.

----

ace: personally, i listen to justin bieber

jamil: im more into lana del rey

jack: megan for me

floyd: i listen to cardi b! how about you, yuu?

yuu: laufey and alex g

malleus: i love you (listens to both)

----

malleus: mary or sarah?

yuu: sandy

----

ace: yo dude i think yuu might be buffer than jack

deuce: no way???

ace: YUU JACK

yuu:huh

jack: hm?

ace: can you both flex your muscles???

----

jack: you are not buffer than me.

yuu: shut up hoe, this is why i got a bigger dick than you

jack: you have a penis?...

yuu: for sure bigger than yours.

(i do in fact, not have a penis)

----

floyd: okay so listen guys, we need to get the shampoo and shove it upp our areolas and run around naked on basket field

azul: who.. wha??? oh my god are you high?

yuu: its the ace incident all over again...

----

epel: yuu genuine question, what does pussy taste like

yuu: ....? it tastes like pussy?

epel: i just ate a pussy.

yuu: man....good for you i guess? wait WHAT

----

(for context a bird flew into the glass and flew into the locker rooms)

deuce: OH MY GOD?!?

epel: KILL IT

kalim: no dont kill it!

ace: yuu do something!!!!

yuu: why are you asking me? your the man

floyd: JUST DO SOMETHING

yuu: ugh.... men only act proud and strong to flaunt.

----

floyd & kalim: THERES A SPIDER

kalim: JAMIL HELP... me?

jamil: *fucking hiding on top of the lockers*

----

yuu: why didnt i become a cheerleader.

[ramona-quinn]

Late Night Drive

CG!Blitzø and Little!Stolas

Co-written with @yourneurodivergentlady

Plot: Stolas can't sleep and is overwhelmed with big feelings, so Blitzø takes him out for a drive to soothe his mind.

A.K.A., a follow-up story of Baby Feathers by @shhtickerbook

Illustration done by @sugarnpaint (@hels-belle)

Stolas stared up at the ceiling, trying to go back to sleep. A couple of hours ago, he was put to bed by Blitzø with a warm bath, fuzzy pajamas, and a couple of bedtime stories. All of that ensured a peaceful night's sleep for the Goetia. However, fireworks went off at midnight to ring in the new year, causing him to wake up. Stolas covered his ears with a pillow because he was very sensitive to sound. He internally prayed to ignore the noise and return to catching some shut-eye.

Unfortunately, it was no use.

Stolas looked over at Blitzø, who was sleeping on a beanbag in a corner of the living room. He considered waking him up for help, but he decided against that. Blitzø has done so much for him by helping him discover his tiny side. The imp needed a break.

Taking the pacifier out of his mouth, Stolas held onto it while fiddling with the handle ring. He could feel his headspace returning to normal. He grabbed his phone and looked at the time.

2:57 A.M.

The Goetia sighed. He got up from the couch and went outside to the balcony. He looked down at the streets below and saw people winding down and heading home after throwing New Year's parties. A rat-like sinner demon saw the owl and threw a water balloon at him.

"It's the shitturd I was talking about!" the sinner jeered while his friends laughed with him. "Hope you die alone!"

Stolas felt tears forming in his eyes as he got up and walked back into the apartment. As he made it to the bathroom to dry off, he couldn't help but replay what the rat had said. Maybe he deserved to be alone after what he had done. Maybe he deserved to be banished and have his royal status revoked. Maybe he deserved to lose his daughter. After all, selfish people like him didn't deserve to live...

"Hey, you alright?"

Stolas jumped, startled by Blitzø's voice.

"Oh, Blitzø... what are you doing up?" Stolas asked.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Blitzø replied. “Who did this to you?”

Stolas looked down at the bathroom tile floor in silence.

"Here, let me help," the imp said.

While Blitzø grabbed a towel to dry Stolas off and get him into a fresh pair of pajamas, the Goetia's mind was running a thousand miles per hour. The insomnia wasn't making things better for him.

Stolas could feel his eyes flooding with tears once again. He hiccuped as his headspace drifted back and forth. He could feel his hands and body tremble as he dropped to the ground.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on, buddy?” Blitz softly asked as he crouched down.

Stolas sniffled and shook his head.

"You can tell me. I'm not going to get angry."

Stolas shook his head again, furiously rubbing his eyes with his arm.

Blitzø gently wrapped the towel around the owl, just like when he wrapped his coat around him when Octavia left him. The imp then gently moved Stolas's arm and gently cupped his feathered face, wiping the tears away with his thumbs.

"It's okay, buddy. I'm here," Blitzø comforted. "You don't have to say anything."

The imp thought for a moment before finally considering something. “You wanna go for a drive? Maybe that’ll help you calm down.”

"A drive?" Stolas hiccuped as his voice pitch grew a bit higher.

“Yep. It’s useful for when you can’t sleep.” Blitzø told him, gently tapping his nose. "It'll be like stargazing on wheels."

"On wheels?" The owl tilted his head.

Blitzø nodded. “Yeah. You wanna see the stars?”

Stolas nodded, however something popped up in his mind.

"What if... what if people see me?" the Goetia asked worryingly. "'m little..."

“Baby bird, it’s dark out so they’ll be sleeping. If they do see you, I’ll protect you,” Blitzø reassured as he dried Stolas off with the towel.

"P'omise?"

“I promise,” he stood up and offered his hand to Stolas. “You ready?”

Stolas thought about it for a little bit, then nodded.

"Alright, let's get you changed into some fresh jammies first, yeah?"

The owl nodded again.

Once Blitzø got Stolas changed into a fluffy pair of dark red pajamas, the imp grabbed the two blankets off the couch and a couple of pacifiers and placed them into a bag.

Blitzø tenderly took Stolas's hand and took him outside.

Once they reached the van, Blitzø unlocked it and placed a blanket over the backseat. He then helped Stolas in and buckled him up. He got him comfy by covering him up with the other blanket. The imp then went to the driver's seat.

"You ready, kiddo?" Blitzø asked.

The owl nodded as he wrapped his arms around the blanket.

Starting the van, Blitzø backed out and began to drive. He turned on the radio to some soft classical music.

Stolas leaned his head, resting it on the blanket-covered seat. He looked out the window and could see the beautiful night sky. It reminded him of when he was a kid. He would go out on the balcony of his palace and do some stargazing on nights when the weather was just right. He would do research on the stars he looked up. He would try and talk about his findings to his father. However, the dad wasn't all too interested, even though he assigned him to be a prophet amongst the stars and galaxies of the universe.

Blitzø drove around for about thirty minutes, occasionally glancing back at Stolas.

"You okay back there?" The imp asked genuinely.

Stolas nodded sleepily. “Yeah.”

Blitzø smiled softly as he continued driving.

The owl continued gazing up at the sky.

"B'izø?"

"What's up, feathers?"

"Have... have you been sta'gazing before?" The owl asked reluctantly.

"I don't think I have. Why?"

Stolas looked down at the floorboard as he fiddled with a corner of the blanket he was holding. Blitzø wouldn't be interested in something like this. The imp would probably reject the idea of spending quality time with him... just like his father...

"Would you like to do that some time?"

Stolas's eyes widened at Blitzø's offer.

"Really?" the owl asked.

The imp nodded. “Yep, we can go stargazing anytime you want.”

Stolas gave a little smile.

“Ready to go home now, bub?” The imp asked as he glanced back at his little owl.

Stolas nodded his head as he let out a yawn.

So, Blitzø drove them back to the apartment. When they arrived, the imp got out of the van and went to open the back door. He opened it and saw Stolas drifting off to sleep.

"Come on, buddy. We're home," Blitzø said in a gentle tone as he shook the owl's arm.

"We are?" Stolas mumbled tiredly as Blitzø unbuckled his seat belt and gathered the bag and blankets.

The imp took Stolas’s hand and led him inside before bringing him back to the couch.

"Than' you, B'izø," Stolas yawned while the imp tucked him in nice and snug.

“You’re welcome, bud. Do you need anything?” Blitzø asked.

"Stay?"

Blitzø nodded and sat beside him. “Of course.”

The imp reached into the bag and pulled out one of the pacifiers.

"You want your paci?"

Stolas nodded tiredly as he reached for it.

Blitzø handed the soother to the owl, who popped it in his beak.

"Ni', B'izø," the owl murmured.

“Night, baby feathers,” Blitz reached out to ruffle his hair.

After a few minutes, Stolas drifted off to sleep. Blitzø smiled and went back to the beanbag to get some more rest himself.

Author's note: Thank you to all of the lovelies who made this story happen (@yourneurodivergentlady, @shhtickerbook, @sugarnpaint, @hels-belle)! I couldn't have done it without every single one of you! /pos /gen

DNI Banner made by @wolfenpupr

[corroded-hellfire]

I’m dying for an AYW fic regarding the proposal and or wedding!!

A proposal you say?

@munson-blurbs and I are very proud to present to you the proposal of these two love birds. And how else would Eddie do it but with music? We hope you enjoy 💜

Words: 2.8k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Eddie had hoped that this would be the most perfect day you’d ever had in your life. Well, it was off to a shit start. Both you and Eddie were supposed to be attending a Billy Joel concert that night; something that you’ve been over the moon excited about for months now. Eddie was also excited, but it was for different reasons than seeing We Didn’t Start the Fire being performed live. He had come up with an elaborate plan to take you to dinner, the concert, and then just as it seemed as if the excitement of the evening had come to an end, he was going to propose. 

Unfortunately, Lucas had put the kibosh on that when he phoned and told Eddie that the outdoor venue where the concert was being held said the show was a no-go due to inclement weather. Lucas works AV at the venue so was able to get the word out to you before the general ticket holders were notified. Eddie hated seeing the disappointed look on your face. He tried to comfort you, giving you sweet kisses and wrapping you up in his arms, all the while trying to figure out how he could salvage this proposal. The makeup date for the concert would likely be many months out and Eddie was damned if he was going to wait that long to ask you to marry him. 

It had been a plan for you to go out with Nancy early afternoon to get your nails done together. “So they look good at the concert!” Nancy had said to you. “So when we take pictures of her ringed finger and when people keep wanting to look at her hand, she won’t be irked that her nails don’t look nice,” is the real reasoning Eddie gave to your friend. When you debate on whether or not you should even go out with Nancy still, Eddie urges you to.

“It’ll still be nice to have a girls’ day with Nancy,” he told you. “Go out, have fun. Get pampered.” So I can figure out what the hell I’m gonna do.

As soon as Eddie watches your car pull away from his spot at the apartment window, he’s pacing the living room and running his hands over his hair.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

“Oooh,” Luke says as he comes down the hall. “Another quarter in the swear jar!”

Eddie turns to his youngest son and realizes he can use the boys to his advantage here. What would be needed to make a romantic evening here at home? Candles? There were plenty in the hall closet. Rose petals? Yes, they had been purchased for your anniversary last year. Eddie had his guitar; he could stage a mini concert for you. Yes, he could pull this off. He would need help from his mini-me’s for that, though.

“Alright, boys,” Eddie says, loud enough that Ryan peeks out of his room to see what his dad wants. “I’m gonna need your help with something big.”

“A monster truck?” Luke asks. Ryan rolls his eyes at his little brother as he comes to join them in the living room.

“Uh, no,” Eddie says. “Guys…I’m proposing.” 

“Like, you’re finally gonna ask her to marry you?” Ryan asks, a sparkle gleaming in his eye at the question.

“Yep,” Eddie confirms. “Or, I was, but now the concert is canceled—wait, what do you mean ‘finally’?”

Ryan shrugs. “You asked us a million years ago if we’d be okay with you and her getting married.”

“Hold on,” Luke pipes up, putting his palms out to pause the discussion. “They’re not married?”

“Christ on a cracker.” Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger and gives it a tiny massage. He’s so frazzled he can’t even tell if Luke is just trying to mess with him right now or not. “No, we’re not married. But I’d like to marry her, and I was hoping you two could help me decorate so this can still be special.”

With that, Eddie and the boys get to work to transform the apartment into a romantic oasis before you get home from your nail appointment. Thank God for Nancy Harrington.

Eddie strategically places candles throughout the bedroom, giving Luke strict orders not to light them. At this rate, the kid shouldn’t be allowed near an open flame until he’s forty. Instead, Eddie puts his sons in charge of sprinkling a trail of rose petals from the front door to the room. Ryan’s mastered the art of “sprinkling,” but Luke’s contribution looks more like small piles. 

Oh, well. It’s the thought that counts. 

It’s Ryan’s idea to make paper hearts and Scotch tape them around the apartment; ever his shadow, Luke joins him. 

Eddie has his acoustic guitar laying on the bed, tuned and ready to go. He puts the ring box in his pants pocket and rechecks it approximately every thirty seconds to make sure it’s still there, as though it could slip through the fabric and into an alternate dimension. 

He rushes to the door when he hears the buzzer ring, tucking his shirt into his pants, not sure if that’s how he wants it or not. When Wayne’s voice comes over the intercom, he breathes a sigh of relief. 

“Boys! Grandpa Wayne is here!” he calls out, grinning when he hears their thunderous footsteps. 

“Daddy,” Luke says, holding out a fun size piece of candy, “give this to her. Girls like chocolate. It’s romantic.” 

Eddie tries not to chuckle as he inspects the melted Twix bar. “I’m sure she’ll love it. And I’ll make sure she knows it’s from you.” Like it could be from anyone else, he thinks amusedly. He tucks it safely into his pocket as he heads over to open the front door. 

As soon as Wayne steps foot into the apartment, he’s bombarded by two excited children. 

“Grandpa, Grandpa!” Ryan chants as Luke clings to the older man’s side.

“What is it, pal?” Wayne asks.

“Daddy’s gonna propose!”

Wayne was already aware of this fact, and that he was taking the boys for the night for this very reason, but he acts surprised for his grandkids’ sake.

“Wow! That’s real excitin’, isn’t it?” Wayne asks.

“Yes!” Luke replies.

Eddie’s uncle chuckles and ruffles both boys’ hair before taking a step closer to the soon-to-be-engaged man. “I’m real happy for ya, kid. She’s a good one.”

“Thanks, Wayne.” He claps a hand on the man’s shoulder. 

The front doorknob jiggles and all four Munson men turn towards it in complete synchronicity. Eddie quickly presses a kiss to each of his sons’ heads and whispers for them to behave tonight before he ducks into the master bedroom. 

Just in time, as you step through the door not a second later. Your eyes land on the trio in front of you and you give them a smile.

“Hey, Wayne! How’re you?”

“I get to spend time with my favorite guys,” Wayne says, resting a hand on each boys’ shoulder, “so no complaints here.”

“We’re staying at Grandpa’s so Daddy can—” Luke starts, but is quickly hushed by Wayne leading him quickly towards the front door. 

“Okay, time to go! C’mon you little knuckleheads. See ya later, hun.”

“Bye Wayne. Bye boys! Love you!”

There are muffled calls of “bye” and “love you too” but it sounds like Wayne is speed walking them out of there. You chuckle to yourself and drop your bag down on the counter. No sign of your boyfriend in the living room or kitchen. Brow pinching together in confusion, you sigh and rest your hands on your hips. 

“Eds? The boys left; you can stop hiding now,” you tease, frowning when you still don’t see him. “Eddie?”

“‘M in here, babe,” he calls from the bedroom. There’s a waver in his voice and it has you moving even faster towards him. 

He’s sitting on the end of your shared bed in black jeans and a maroon button-down shirt, untucked. His acoustic guitar rests on his lap as he strums idly. You barely have time to take in candles and hurricane of rose petals before he says, “Figured I’d bring the concert to us.”

The opening chords of Billy Joel’s “Just the Way You Are” reach your ears and it instantly has you getting choked up. Hot tears press at the back of your eyes as you remember dancing in the kitchen to this with Eddie before Ryan’s birthday party all those years ago. 

Under your breath, you begin to sing along. It is a concert after all, but you want to keep your voice low enough that all you can hear is still Eddie’s. You lean back against your dresser behind you, looking deep into Eddie’s eyes as he serenades you. There don’t have to be words spoken, you know he understands what you’re saying with just your eyes. I promise I will always love you just as you are. 

The next song in your personal concert is “You May Be Right.” Eddie gets into it, head rocking as he sings out the lyrics, even inflecting his voice on the word “lunatic.” It’s silly and sweet and everything you love about Eddie personified in this moment between the two of you. 

“She’s Always a Woman” is the next song on the set list. This one has the tears that were behind your eyes now making their way forward. The moisture gathers at your lash line as you watch your boyfriend with absolute adoration. Once the song is finished, Eddie gives you a wink.

“Last song and then I’m gonna kiss you, I promise.”

Uptown girl

She’s been livin’ in her uptown world

I bet she never had a backstreet guy

I better her mama never told her why

You had no doubt that Eddie would finish with this song. Your song. How it started from teasing and joking to now being the song that makes the two of you look at each other as if there’s nobody else in the world for those few minutes. 

Once he finishes the song, Eddie gently sets the guitar down and you rush into his arms. Your tears drip onto the maroon polyester of his shirt as you bury your face in his shoulder. Eddie rubs his hand softly up and down your back and presses a kiss to the top of your head. With a small sniffle, you look up at Eddie with wide, watery eyes.

“This is the sweetest thing ever, Eddie. I can’t believe you did this for me. I’ve been so bummed all day that the concert’s been postponed and I—”

The rest of the sentence gets silenced as Eddie presses his lips against yours. It’s partly because he wants to stop your rambling—and he wants to kiss you all the time in general—but also because the nerves are getting the better of him as every second ticks by. He has to ask you or he’s going to combust on the spot. 

With one large hand cupping your cheek and the other wrapped around your waist, Eddie slowly and subtly moves further away from the bed, so he’ll be able to get down on one knee when the time comes 

“I’d do anything for you, my love. You know that,” he whispers against your lips. 

Eddie tries to recall the speech he had prepared in his mind, only to have nervous sweat begin to break out along his hairline. It only takes a few moments before you notice, because you always notice what’s going on with Eddie. The concerned look that mars your features suddenly has all of the tension releasing from Eddie’s body. The nerves are gone without a trace, replaced by warmth and love for the beautiful, amazing woman standing in front of him. How could he have been nervous about this to begin with? It’s you. You are the love of his life and, though he still can’t comprehend why or how, he’s the love of your life, too. 

“Uptown Girl has kind of followed us on our journey, hasn’t it? From you playing your Billy Joel tapes when you were babysitting the boys and I’d come home and pretend to be all annoyed by it. But then one time I remember really listening to the lyrics and having this epiphany. You’re uptown girl, I’m the downtown man. Uptown Girl, you know I can’t afford to buy her pearls. But maybe someday when my ship comes in she’ll understand what kind of guy I’ve been and then I’ll win. I’ve always wanted to give you the world. I always wanted you to see me, silently dying for your attention on the inside. Because when you walked through the front door that first day…baby, you’ve never for a moment left my mind since then. I went from thinking you were this unattainable fantasy that I would have to be content with to admire at a distance to…this. The life we’ve built, the love we’ve shared. Princess, I wanted to give you everything but instead you gave that to me. I have everything I could ever want or need when you’re here in my arms. I still can’t believe how unbelievably lucky I am to call you mine. Every day I wake up and thank God when I see you laying next to me, all huddled up in the blankets. It feels right. More so than anything I’ve ever experienced in my life. I’ve always told you that you’re my forever, baby. And I meant it.”

Slowly, Eddie lowers himself to one knee and the realization of what’s happening hits you with a sharp gasp. Is this really happening? you think. Or am I dreaming again? The beads of water that had been quelled for the most part start flowing again, leaving tracks down your cheeks. Eddie reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small black velvet box. He takes one more deep breath before lifting the lid and revealing a shining silver ring with a princess cut diamond sitting atop it. Because he calls me princess, you realize. 

“My love. My princess, my angel, my sweet, sweet girl. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Stunned isn’t a look Eddie has ever seen on you before. It feels like an eternity that you just stare at him, saying nothing. In reality, it’s probably less than ten seconds, but Eddie’s mind is currently working in slow motion. Finally, you nod your head and time is back to normal in Eddie’s world. The teary laugh you give him as you keep nodding has a smile forming on his face that he’s sure will be there for a while.

“Of course I’ll marry you, Eddie.”

At hearing the words come from your mouth, his smile grows into a grin that’s enough to light up an electric grid. He plucks the ring from its satin cushion in the box and slowly slides it up your finger. As he stands, he’s expecting you to admire the ring, inspect it and be giddy about the jewelry. But the moment he’s steady on his feet, you’re grabbing Eddie’s face between your hands and planting a fierce kiss on his lips.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” you mumble against his mouth before pressing another kiss after kiss there.

“Can't believe you want to be my wife,” Eddie says in amazement as you finally part.

“I’ve wanted that from the moment I laid eyes on you. I never knew my schoolgirl crush would become my husband.”

Eddie leans in to kiss you again, smiling against your lips. “I’m so fucking happy that you’re gonna be my wife.” He pulls your body close against his and buries his face in your hair.

“Eds?”

“Hm?”

“Is there something in your pocket?”

“Huh?” He digs into the denim to pull out a half-melted Twix bar. “Oh, right. A gift from your future stepsons.”

At the word “stepsons,” an entirely different wave of emotions crashes over you. A different kind of love envelops your body and it might just be the warmest and fuzziest feeling you’ve ever felt. 

“Holy shit. I’m going to be their stepmother.”

Eddie isn’t sure if you're happy or scared about it by your tone, but then you well up with tears again and a grin rivaling his own lights up your face. 

“I’m gonna be their stepmom!”

Eddie chuckles and presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“They are so lucky to have you. We all are. Now, uh,” the tips of his ears turn pink, and he clears his throat, “you mentioned a schoolgirl crush?” One hand snakes around your waist and lowers to grab your ass. “I’d like to hear more about that.”

“Whatever you say, fiancé.”

[kayawolfhorse]

Towards the Sun | Read on AO3

My part of @thedoomedpie and I’s Solstice Social collab, hosted by @hermitadaymay! Check out Pie’s lovely piece here <3

—☾—

The sky is an endless swath of bright blue above Pearl’s head, and the birds chirp their early song from the bough of every tree around her. At her hip, her almost empty mailbag rustles with every step. She adjusts the brim of her hat against the morning sun and strides towards her next stop.

Tango answers the door in a robe with pools at his feet with a mug of steaming coffee and eyes that brighten when he catches sight of Pearl. “Pearlie! Got my morning mail?”

“I sure do!” Pearl says, and hands him the couple of envelopes with his name scrawled across their fronts. “How’s your weekend off been treating you?”

“It’s been weird,” Tango chuckles. “Nice! But weird. Case in point, when’s the last time I had my mail delivered?”

“Hah, yeah, it was weird seeing it in the office,” Pearl says, and leans against the porch balustrade. “It’s good to see you getting some rest, though! You needed it.”

“Thank you, thank you,” Tango says with a slight, goofy bow. “You’re due for some time off, too. Relax! You deserve it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Pearl smiles. “For today though, I’ve got errands to run!”

“Festival organizing, is it? Wouldn’t expect you to be anywhere else,” Tango teases. “Can’t wait!”

“I was just about to ask if I’d be seeing you there!” Pearl says. “There are a few things to be done beforehand, but it’s all coming together beautifully.”

“Wouldn’t miss it! I—” Tango’s interrupted by a rapid series of familiar, high-pitched beeps.

Pearl spots him first. “Hi there little buddy!” She crouches down to meet Grumbot at face-level. “What’s up?”

Grumbot whirs, and the foliage that cascades down the side of his boxy head shakes slightly as a piece of paper slides from the output slot on his torso. He pulls it loose with one doodle-speckled arm and holds it up to Pearl, who takes it and scans it over.

“Mumbo needs help, does he?” she asks. Grumbot extends his hand in what Pearl recognizes to be as close to a thumbs-up as he can get with his lack of fingers, and the motion is equally as endearing as when Mumbo himself flashes one in awkward acknowledgment.

“With the lights?” Tango reads over Pearl’s shoulder. “I can go over and give him a hand.”

“No worries; I’m overseeing the lights, anyway. Besides,” Pearl says, giving Tango a playful poke, “one of us is supposed to be resting.”

“Alright, alright,” Tango concedes. “I’ll get you to take a break one of these days, mark my words.”

“Consider them marked,” Pearl says, and rises to her feet. “Bye, Tango!”

As Pearl turns to follow Grumbot, Tango says, voice fading behind them, “Say hi to Mumbo for me!”

“Will do!” Pearl calls over her shoulder.

—☾—

“You’d really think that hovering lights would be more willing to, you know, hover,” Mumbo says.

Sunlight pours from high-cut windows above the row of cabinets and catches against the glass of the unlit heaps of lanterns scattered around the workshop in various stages of assembly. Redstone wires are piled in the free space left between the lights, and spare circuits weigh down the edges of sprawling blueprints across the benches that line the wall.

Pearl pulls up a stool at Mumbo’s side, where he’s hunched over the central table, turning a bulb between his hands. His suit jacket has been abandoned on a nearby table, and his dress sleeves are shoved back to his elbows. “They’ll get there, I’m sure of it,” she says. “Have you got any clue why they aren’t working?”

“That’s the thing—I have none at all! None!” Mumbo says. He presses a hand to his temple. “There’s nothing obviously wrong with them, they just won’t work.”

“Is it all of them?” Pearl asks, pulling the bulb’s sleek white casing closer to inspect.

“All of them, yep,” Mumbo confirms. “They’re completely unresponsive.”

“Odd.” Flipping the casing upside-down, Pearl slides a nail along the cover until it pops open. The compacted redstone as its core is a beauty, and she takes a moment to admire it. “Grumbot, could you hand me that screwdriver?

Grumbot’s rapid cacophony of dings sounds near-anxious in pitch. Pearl frowns—he’s never been anything but utterly at home in Mumbo’s workshop.

Nonetheless, Grumbot retrieves the screwdriver and holds it out to Pearl from as far away as he can stay. As soon as Pearl takes it and thanks him, he races off to the other side of the room once more, sitting in a sunbeam in the clearest corner of the shop.

“That’s weird,” Mumbo says. “That behavior’s weird, right? He never does that.”

“It is,” Pearl agrees.

“I’ll go ask him,” Mumbo says, and rises from his seat.

Glancing back down, Pearl focuses on the redstone before her, taking it apart piece-by-piece and laying it upon the table. The craftsmanship is perfect; each mechanism primed, every wire lovingly crossed, devoid of misplaced or faulty fires. There’s no reason for it not to work. It doesn’t make sense.

Mumbo’s stool scrapes against the wooden floor as he pulls it back and drops heavily onto it. His brow is knitted and his mustache is ruffled in puzzled confusion.

“What did Grumbot say?” Pearl prompts.

With a slight shake of his head, Mumbo says, “Couldn’t get an answer out of him. He just kept repeating that the redstone was bad.”

Pearl rubs a wire between her fingers. She’s having trouble thinking of a solution, her mind sparking like flint and steel that refuses to take. Her head pangs in a dull ache just in general, honestly—did she have any water before heading out?

Redstone, much like just about anything else, wears out eventually, and brings with it a habit of corroding its surroundings if left to rot for too long (she and Mumbo had learned this the hard way, what with their shared hobby of flipping old tech), but the lanterns’ redstone shows no sign of attrition.

“We could… replace it?” Pearl hedges.

Mumbo looks as uncertain as she feels. “This shouldn’t be all that old,” he says, “I got a new shulker-worth of it a few months ago; it’s been sitting in a chest since.”

“Might as well give it a shot, right?” Pearl says. “We’ve got nothing else to go off of.”

“I guess so.”

Their efforts are to no avail; the lantern remains decidedly dark and firmly grounded.

“It was working yesterday afternoon,” Mumbo says, passing a hand across his face, “I don’t get how it’s just stopped now.”

Pearl scratches at the back of her neck and tilts her head—a poor choice; the movement sends the dizziness behind her eyes spiraling, and she takes a moment to breathe through it. For all that she loves a good puzzle, frustration bubbles at the back of her throat. The redstone should be fine; Mumbo’s worked on it for weeks and his design is meticulous. Of course it’d be now, mere hours before the festival, that a bug would rear its ugly head.

“How complicated would it be to switch it over to solar?” Pearl asks. Whatever’s wrong with the redstone, they can figure out later. She has a schedule to keep, and it cannot be eaten up by stubborn lights.

“Not terribly difficult,” Mumbo says, “but I don’t actually have any panels small enough for them on me, and they won’t last as long, and they’re supposed to be on at night.”

“If you can get panels in the next hour and charge them while you assemble, they’ll have a few hours’ worth of juice in them, which is all we need,” Pearl says. “Redstone’s not giving. We need the lanterns faster than we can fix whatever’s wrong with them.”

“Okay,” Mumbo says. “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks for the help.”

“Sorry I couldn’t do more,” Pearl says sincerely. “I’ll get those panels to you, how’s that?”

“Oh, that’d be wonderful, actually,” Mumbo says. “Thanks, Pearl!”

Pearl’s about to respond when her communicator buzzes in her pocket. Pulling it out, she reads: there’s been a situation.

Sighing, she says to Mumbo, “Change of plans; looks like I’m needed elsewhere, unfortunately.” For what exactly, she’s not sure. Leave it to Grian to provide no further specifications.

“That’s okay!” Mumbo says. “All good, no worries. I’ll get it handled.”

“You’re just the man for the job, mate,” Pearl says, patting him on the shoulder before adjusting her bag’s strap. “Call Etho if you need an extra set of hands—Tango’s supposed to be resting.”

“Ah, I did hear about that, yep,” Mumbo says. “You’ve got it! Good luck with the preparations!”

Pearl flashes a salute before stepping outside. Before the door can fully close behind her, Grumbot zips through it and wraps an arm around her leg.

“You want to come with?” Pearl asks.

Grumbot gives a furious nod and a wiggle of his mustache.

“I’m heading for the labs, you know,” Pearl says.

Grumbot’s aversion towards them is as stalwart as the rise and set of the sun; he refuses to step foot on the grounds. Though Pearl expects him to back out, Grumbot nods his head again.

“Alright,” Pearl says skeptically. “Maybe between you and I, we can drag Grian out for some fresh air, aye?”

—☾—

Mumbo’s workshop is closer to the fields than it is the center square, and though the walk is lovely, the spring day pleasantly balmy, Pearl keeps her pace at a fast clip. The excited bustle of festival preparations amidst the mundanities of everyday life streams past her as she stops by the post office to drop off her mailbag and marches towards the laboratory at the heart of Solaris.

The streets narrow and quiet down as she and Grumbot continue on past rows of shops closed for the day and markets whose early hours have long passed. A light breeze plays with the ends of Pearl’s hair and Grumbot hums something Pearl recognizes to be one of her own silly little tunes; after a beat she joins in. Despite the mission at hand, it’s all rather peaceful—a tranquility that is completely shattered by the swarm of bees that seems to materialize directly in front of them, swiftly followed by a familiar dash of pink and blue.

“Lizzie!” Pearl calls out. “What’re you up to, mate?”

With a bouquet of overflowing flowers in one hand and a net in the other, Lizzie turns to Pearl. “The bees!” she exclaims, slightly out of breath.

“What about them?” Pearl asks, tilting her head. “They’re allowed to roam, aren’t they?”

“Joel broke their hive by mistake whilst trying to move them,” Lizzie explains. Her fuzzy wings flutter behind her. “We’re trying to get them back into a new one before they take off for somewhere else entirely. And they don’t want to blumming listen!”

“I can’t imagine bees are known for their listening skills,” Pearl agrees. “Are you trying to lure them back home?” Lizzie’s flower shop is nearby, but her and Joel’s house is a few blocks away.

“Joel’s getting the new hive now,” Lizzie says. “I’m just rounding them up for when he gets here with it.”

“Grumbot here and I can help!” Pearl offers. She can’t just leave Lizzie with all of this. She prays that it won’t take terribly long. “Isn’t that right?”

Grumbot makes a sound that approximates agreement. There’s already a bee perched upon one of his flowers.

“Great!” Lizzie says. She halves her bundle of flowers and passes them to Pearl. “Here, take these. Try to get them to stay around the shop. I’ll head down Main.”

“You’ve got it!” Pearl says. Lizzie flashes a relieved smile and runs off.

Left to her own devices, Pearl’s immediately struck by how difficult of a task it is to get the bees to remain anywhere specific.

Petunias tangle with ivy down the side of nearly every building down the street, and nasturtiums sprout around each lamp out front. Sculpted topiaries, colorful flower beds, and communal gardens fill every bit of space not occupied by paths.

Pearl has always taken pride in the lush beauty of their little town, and so close to the festival, it’s dialed up to a hundred: flower wreaths and garlands are hung by the bushel. The bees—several hundred of them, by the looks of it—seem determined to visit every last petal.

“Here, buzzy buzzy bees,” Pearl coaxes, holding out a fistful of lilacs to the group in front of the bakery. Somewhere behind her, Grumbot imitates the bees in a whirring hum. “C’mon, that’s it…”

After Pearl leads her first group to the flower shop and watches as they cluster contently on the stand of bouquets by the door, she stations Grumbot next to it to gently discourage anyone from wandering too far. He waves his bundle of flowers invitingly to any bee that leaves the stand, beeping to alert Pearl if one slips past him.

Pearl oscillates between grabbing the furthest bees’ attention and slowly luring them closer to the shop. Though most of them hover within reach, a few have drifted further up into rooftop gardens or flower boxes beneath second story windows, and Pearl resolves to locate a ladder as soon as she can. The emptiness of the path is a relief—Pearl can’t imagine the difficulty passerby would add to bee-wrangling.

By the time Joel arrives, fresh hive in hand, Pearl’s gotten most of the bees in the same general area, darting across the flower shop’s front, perched upon her own bunch of flowers, or flying lazy circles around her face.

“It should be all set up now,” Joel says, setting the hive carefully down on one of the nearby tables. Two bees fly right in, and after a moment, several dozen under the storefront window leave their bouquets to follow. “And hi, Pearl. Thanks for the hand.” Pearl waves.

Lizzie reppears with a mini-swarm of the most adventurous of stragglers, and her bees hover cautiously around the hive for a moment until joining the ones inside. “Thank goodness,” she says. “Do you have Queenie?”

“She’s in there, yep,” Joel says proudly. “There’s also the couple of frames I managed to save.”

“Nice!” Pearl says, and gently shakes her bundle of flowers over the open top to encourage her bees loose.

“We’ll just have to get them close enough that they go in,” Joel says. “They’re smart enough; they’ll follow their queen.”

Grumbot appears at Joel’s hip with clasped hands and several murmuring beeps. His extended arms just barely reach the top of the hive, and when he opens his hands, a single bee flies out and into the hive below. Pearl laughs softly and Lizzie grins; even Joel can’t help but look charmed.

“Thank you, Grumbot,” Lizzie says with all the seriousness of ceremony. Grumbot wiggles his mustache, pleased.

Between the four of them and the ladder Joel runs back home to retrieve, they gather up the last of the bees and give the street one final sweep before sliding the hive’s cover on. Joel hefts it up with a grunt, and says his goodbyes before disappearing around the block.

“Thanks for the help, guys!” Lizzie says. “I was real worried there; it’s a good thing you came along.”

“Of course!” Pearl says. “I couldn’t just leave a gal hanging, now could I?”

Lizzie’s expression turns contemplative, and she mutters something that Pearl can’t quite catch before saying, “Oh! Have you picked out your flowers yet? For your crown?”

Her flower crown! Pearl lightly smacks the heel of her hand against her brow. “I’d totally forgotten, to be honest. I’ve been so busy with everything else, it’d just slipped my mind.”

“Well, come by the shop anytime today, and they’re on the house,” Lizzie says. “As payment.”

Though no payment is needed, it’s useless to argue; Lizzie’s made-up mind is a firm thing, and besides—Pearl really does need a crown. “Thank you so much, Lizzie!”

“It’s the least I could do,” Lizzie says with a grin. “See you later?”

“You betcha.” Pearl winks.

Continuing down the freshly bee-less street, Pearl spares the clock on its end a glance and makes a mental note to swing by the flower shop once the plaza’s fully set up. Early afternoon has already managed to sink its unerring roots into the day, and there’s still so much left on Pearl’s checklist. Total perfection may not be the name of the game, but she’s determined to land as close to it as possible.

She’s so occupied with running through the list in her head—meet with Scar and Bdubs, consolidate decorations, run home and change, eat at some point, that’s probably important—that she nearly runs straight into Gem and Impulse.

Gem halts the wagon behind her before it can crash into Pearl. “Hey, Pearl!” she says. Impulse waves from his spot further back.

Pearl shakes herself free from her ruminations. “Hiya, guys!” Grumbot beeps in greeting.

“Whatcha you up to?” Gem asks. She loosely crosses her arms and leans against the wooden paneling of the wagon, and it jostles gently against her weight. Its underside casts soft golden light upon the cobbled street it hovers above.

“Heading to the labs,” Pearl answers. “You two are catering, I’d assume?”

“Not quite yet,” Gem says, “but we will be in an hour. For now, we’re just helping move stuff around.”

“Fantastic,” Pearl says. “Quick question, is your wagon working as normal?”

Gem and Impulse turn to it in unison.

“Chugging along as always,” Impulse says, and raises his eyebrow with a faint, confused smirk. “Why, what’s up?”

“Just checking,” Pearl says. She sounds a little frazzled to her own ears, to be honest. If Mumbo’s redstone problem was town-wide, she’d certainly know about it by now—she’s not sure what she was expecting, really.

“O-oookay,” Gem says, squinting. “You’ve got leaves in your hair, by the way.”

“How did that—? Ah, oh well. My accessories.” Pearl waves a vague hand. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve really got to get going. Bye!”

“You’re being so suspicious!” Gem exclaims, laughing slightly.

“All part of my charm!” Pearl says. She starts to walk away before sharply changing her mind; turning back, she asks, “Actually, can Grumbot hang out with you two?” At Grumbot’s protest, she reminds him, “The labs.”

“Yeah, sure,” Gem says, and smiles at Grumbot. “This does not make you any less weird, though.”

“Does anything?” Pearl leans down to give Grumbot’s head a pat, and after returning the gesture to her arm, he plods off to Impulse. “See you all later!”

Gem snorts. Impulse’s directions and Grumbot’s responding beeps fade behind Pearl as she thrusts ahead.

—☾—

The polished floors of the laboratory's foyer catch and reflect the daylight from where it filters through the glass dome high above Pearl’s head. Carefully maintained potted yucca and pitcher pods frame either side of the reception desk, bringing with them splashes of life in the otherwise still space.

She’s been here often enough to remember the crack in one of the mud bricks above the maintenance closet, and the receptionist’s nod is familiar as they wave Pearl through. Sweeping past the main doors, she raps against the second door to the left in a cursory knock before pushing it open.

It takes her eyes a moment to adjust to the sudden dimness. When her vision clears, she regards the mess around her—just as disorganized as she’d last seen it, despite Grian’s promise to declutter—with a long-suffering sigh.

“Yeah, yeah, I had other things to do,” Grian comes around one of the tables saying. His coat is, for once, fully buttoned, however rumpled it is, though his red sweater peeks out at the collar.

“I can’t believe you,” Pearl says. “We talk about this every ti—”

“Not this time, I’m afraid,” Grian interrupts. He has the good grace to look apologetic when Pearl glares. “Listen, I brought you here for a reason.”

“Coulda used it upfront, really,” Pearl mutters. Grian shrugs.

“There was a minor sculk—not even a flare; it’s not big enough to be a flare—incident this morning, at Vintage Beef’s,” Grian says. “Before it opened. Beef had noticed a small spread following his pre-hour duties.”

Pearl can’t quite stop the small gasp that escapes her, and her heartbeat picks up in her ears. “Is anyone hurt?” Infected, she doesn’t say.

“No.” Grian shakes his head. “It was fresh enough that Beef didn’t suffer more than a nasty headache, and he avoided contact.”

“That’s good,” Pearl says, a little distantly. There have been instances of sculk sightings within town before, but they usually crop up on the outskirts, closer to the ruins; the butcher’s is so central. “Has the sculk been fully cleared?”

“That’s the thing—we’ve been developing this, this new agent, and it worked like a charm. It kills the sculk without aggravating it; all that’s needed afterwards is some good ol’ elbow grease. Pearl,” he says incredulously, “it didn’t spread.”

“Really? Gri, that’s amazing!” Pearl exclaims. “What about the surfaces it was on? How did they fare?”

Grian pulls a face and tilts his outstretched palm. “It was in the press, really messed up the redstone. Had to be replaced. The wall behind it is being replaced, just to be safe,” he says. “But, I nabbed a piece before they could stop me.”

“You and rules never have gotten along,” Pearl agrees. “Did you test it?”

“Of course I did.” Grian grins. “There was the tiniest sliver of residue, but it’s completely inactive after being sprayed. A few minor tweaks to a formula and bam, it’ll be as if it was never there in the first place.”

“Wow,” Pearl says, at a loss for anything else. As a child, she’d had a game, a simple manner of gathering points before the bad guy caught up. It’d been found on a scavenge, and cleaned up the best they could, but sculk remnants clung to the wiring—a fact discovered hours later. Pearl had been bedridden for weeks.

The scavenges eventually tapered to an end, after the town had grown enough to completely sustain itself. Years later, Pearl had rebuilt the game with Mumbo, and it’s sat in her bedroom since.

Wait. “You said the sculk affected the redstone?” Pearl asks.

“Yeah, the press wasn’t working, which is what led Beef to prying it open and finding the sculk,” Grian says. “It was an old machine; sculk likes the static of old redstone.”

Dread rekindles anew in Pearl’s gut. Each detail that fell askanse in the moment feels all too clear now. “I don’t think,” she says slowly, “that Beef’s case is the only bit of sculk in town.”

Grian’s gaze steels. “Explain.”

Pearl goes over her time with Mumbo earlier, describing the deadbeat redstone, her own nausea, and Grumbot’s apprehension. “I suggested switching to solar, for the time being,” she finishes. “Haven’t heard from him since.”

Grian’s taken to pacing while she talks. Pearl absently gathers papers scattered on the table into a neat stack.

Abruptly, Grian stops. He pulls out his communicator. “We need to get him out of there, now,” he says. “We’re lucky that the lanterns aren’t connected to the grid—the sculk shouldn’t spread as easily, but Mumbo’s gotta get away from it.”

“What can I do?” Pearl asks. With one final, decisive tap, she sets the papers aside. She feels steadier with a task in hand.

“Change your clothes, for one thing,” Grian says. “If you’re contaminated…”

“I’m not,” Pearl says quickly. “I shouldn’t be. It didn’t touch my clothing. My symptoms faded in fresh air.”

“Okay. Then just, keep on at the festival.”

Pearl smiles something wry. “I’m keeping my ‘sole townie with super secret information’ status, now am I?”

“You’re Pearl; it hardly counts.” Grian waves a hand, but meets her eyes in understanding. “Just for tonight, you are. There’ll be an announcement tomorrow morning. It’ll be good to keep spirits high.”

“Okay,” Pearl says. “You’ll be alright?”

“Nothing new with me.” He shrugs. “No breakthroughs, but I’m still here, that counts for something.”

Pearl knows of his frustration. Years spent researching sculk, only for the city he was studying in to collapse in a full-blown flare. Grian had stumbled half-alive into town.

He should’ve died from the infection. He’s the only known survivor. It creeps along his edges, unyielding, aching, preying on a body that refuses to give out.

She’s glad he’s here.

Laying a light hand on his clothed arm, she asks, “Any chance I’ll be seeing you at the festival?”

Grian hesitates. “I’ll try,” he decides after a moment. “It’d be a real shame to pass up on free dessert, anyway.”

“I’ll save you a cupcake,” Pearl says. Her mouth pinches at the corners.

“I knew I could count on you.”

—☾—

The fireworks show is as dazzling as Cub had promised it would be. Circles of gold and showers of blue burst to life high above the plaza and cast sparkling reflections down upon the copper railings. The crowd, adorned with enough flowers in their crowns and chains to be mistaken for a field of them, claps and cheers in jubilant appreciation.

Mumbo’s lanterns float gently through the air, beacons of warm, softly flickering light. There aren’t as many as there were in the workshop—reduced from contamination or lack of time, Pearl doesn’t know. Mumbo’s own absence, however much she expected it, is an anxious ache in her chest. He isn’t the only one missing.

After the fireworks, the music stirs up a jaunty tune, and the centermost ring fills with movement: heels clatter against the cobbled brick as dancers spin between partners and link arms with a new one before being cast back.

Pearl doesn’t join so much as she is roped into the fray, and despite herself, she stomps to the beat and laughs at the joke Ren makes before flinging himself towards False.

Finding Gem is a manner of trading arms and conversation until they’re drawn together. Gem looks lovely with her sprigs of lilacs tucked behind her ears and woven throughout her antlers, and her silver bracelets are a pretty contrast against Pearl’s own gold. The purple of Gem’s long, sweeping skirt brings out the white of her wide grin.

“I love the sunflowers,” she says as they whirl. “They suit you.”

“Not looking too bad yourself!” Pearl says with a grin of her own.

“Skizz helped me with the antlers,” Gem says, gesturing to her head. “He got there eventually, but it was a rough start.”

It’s easy to lose herself in banter with Gem. They swap stories of loose bees and fishing mishaps and debate which of their friends would attempt to arm wrestle one of the harvest bots. They hang onto each other for several songs and part with a shared giggle.

When the soles of Pearl’s flats feel practically worn through, she takes to wandering through the fringes, ducking beneath the pergola for a drink that she quickly abandons to help someone with their unraveling flower crown. She scans the gathering as she deftly reweaves the delicate stems; her search comes up empty. Handing the finished crown back, she sticks around for a few moments longer before plunging back in.

She mingles and she dances and she resolutely ignores any feelings that ooze from the darkest parts of her brain like the stuff of world-ending apocalypses.

They’re here, aren’t they? From the rubble they created a safe haven, survival stalwart enough to warrant a celebration in its name. The strung lights are bright and the flowers are in full bloom; the air is fresh in Pearl’s lungs and she’s certain that any one of the pastries laid out would be delicious if she could will her stomach to accept it.

Time has dilated to something beyond Pearl’s open-handed grasp. Exhaustion tugs at her core. Zedaph is describing his most recent contraption to her, and only half of it is really computing.

She doesn’t notice Tango until he’s right next to her, two cupcakes in hand. His robe has been forsaken for a dashing waistcoat combination, and his bright hair is artfully tousled. He hands one cupcake to Pearl and the other to Zedaph, engaging Zed in an animated conversation that effectively drives them both away from Pearl.

Tango tosses a wink over his shoulder and mouths, ‘break.’ Pearl sighs with a slight shake of her head, and flashes a grateful smile back.

The crowd has thinned, and congregated mostly towards the center of the plaza, leaving many of the benches that curve around its edges empty. Pearl takes a seat on the side of the terrace that best overlooks the town below and rubs a sore spot out of her calf.

Away from the main lights, the stars shine brilliantly overhead, and the moon’s nearly-full glow settles silver upon the expanse of colorful roofs and overflowing greenery in front of her. Amidst the gentle hum of the night and melody of the Festival of Life, Pearl traces the watercolor silhouettes that make up her home.

—☾—

In the last dregs of celebration, when the band is replaced by jukeboxes, after most have retired to bed, Grian appears by Pearl’s bench, sliding into the spot next to her. Wordlessly, she hands him the cupcake from Tango. Through the weariness that weighs down his frame, he grins.

There’s plenty of discussion to make. Pearl’s sure there will be a never-ending stream of it tomorrow.

Pearl soaks in the quiet company and takes a moment to breathe. After a moment, Grian releases a long exhale of his own. Side by side, they sit in silence.

[bones4thecats]

Could I request Trey, Silver, and Malleus with a lover that likes to nap?

His S/O Loves To Take Naps

Type of Writing: Request Name: His S/O Loves To Take Naps Characters: Trey Clover, Silver Vanrouge, and Malleus Draconia Requester: Anonymous

A/N: This was fun to write, ngl. I can just see a hypersomniac sleeping in these ways unknowingly🤣 Anyways, enjoy!!

⚠️ TW: None ⚠️

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Sleepy! S/O ; Finds Them Napping - On the Countertop

🧁 Trey has known you since he was a young boy, and ever since you both were tots, you were found to sleep nearly everywhere

🧁 From the box at the end of your bed to a boulder you found during the graduation of one of your older relative's when you went out to take photographs of the lucky grad

🧁 Yep. You slept a lot

🧁 So, when you actually woke up and asked if you could help him with a new batch of sweets for the Unbirthday Party being celebrated later in his dorm, he asked if your housewarden, Vil Schoenheit, was alright with it

🧁 You just smiled and laughed nervously before pushing him into the kitchen. How mischievous could you be!

🧁 Trey had put his apron on and put a matching one on you, his read 'I Love You, Pho Real', while yours said, 'I Cannoli Have Eyes For You!'

🧁 You smiled gently as he grabbed out the things he needed as he hummed an old tune that your mother would sing to you every night. It was called 'In a World of My Own'

🧁 Hearing him sing the slow song, your eyes began to droop until you passed out cold as he began to pour milk into the bowl with the spices and flours to mix it

🧁 Trey heard a small thump and he turned around only to see you leaning your head against the cabinet, and he just chuckled and put his stuff down before picking you up and laying you at one of the tables, taking your apron off and laying underneath your head like a pillow of some kind

" I don't need a world of my own, you've made this one far superior to any I can imagine, love. "

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✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

Sleepy! S/O ; Finds Them Napping - In A Tree

⚔️ Silver and you are almost always seen napping alongside one another, but not today for some reason

⚔️ Yuu Sei, the magicless student, had come up to you and asked if you could help him with some work that Crowley needed done while he dealt with other things probably vacation scheduling

⚔️ Because of this, you were far more tired than normal. So, when Silver messaged you and asked if you could meet at your favorite tree in Pomefiore's, your dorm's, mini-forest, you climbed and tree and waited

⚔️ Silver had just gotten to the forest's outline when a bird flew to him and chirped as it waved its wing, as if it was motioning him to follow

⚔️ Which he understood easily

⚔️ Gripping his magic pen as he went deeper, following the bird's chirps and song, he finally caught sight of the tree he began to worry; were you hurt?

⚔️ He then saw the bird land by your frame and brush it's feathers against your nose, making you fall from the tree after seeing the animal's face so close to yours

⚔️ Silver caught you with his magic as he chuckled and yawned himself

" You really are a sleepy person, aren't you? Now, I believe I need a reward for saving you like that, Y/N. "

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

Sleepy! Reader ; Finds Them Napping - In The Lounge

🐉 Malleus was used to being around people who sleep a lot, due to Silver's issue, but you were almost matching his level, which worried your fae lover

🐉 Earlier, you had gotten busy helping Vil Schoenheit, your housewarden, out with finding Epel Felmier, one of your newest editions of potatoes, and you were tired from holding the male back without using your magic against him

🐉 You then messaged Malleus and said that you were going to come by and spend some time away from the abrasive celebrity and his adoring hunter

🐉 Malleus just agreed and told you to call or send a bit of magic to his room to notify him of your arrival, to which you agreed and sent kisses before hanging up

🐉 He has now been waiting for what felt like hours, but was truly around 30 minutes

🐉 Holding the small gift you had made for him for your one-year anniversary, which was a small dragon keychain that was fluffy like a plushie, close to his chest, Malleus sighed and stood up to walk to the Lounge

🐉 Maybe Lilia or Silver, maybe even Sebek, wanted to speak to you and it just carried on for a while longer than expected?

🐉 Nope. You were sitting on the couch asleep. The others must have just pushed past you and didn't want to interrupt your rest that you no doubt earned from the long day of smelling beauty products from Vil's collection

🐉 Malleus smiled gently and picked you up, tucking the tiny plush into your chest, which you hugged and tucked your face onto his chest, making him chuckle lightly before teleporting back to his room to lay you down correctly

🐉 As he crawled behind you and held you closely, he began to hum a lullaby that he remembered Lilia singing to baby Silver years ago

" But if I know you, I know what you'll do. You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream~ "

[clockwayswrites]

Tim Jr., Coffee Machine Extraordinaire

WC: 2314

Dick worried his lip between his teeth as he looked Tim over. His little brother was standing, zombie-like, in front of the Cave’s coffee machine.

Not that it was unusual.

Just the thing was, Tim had been doing better. His dark circles had been fading, his snippy moments less often, his focus better, and he’d even been putting on some much needed weight. Dick had been so proud (as had Alfred and Bruce). But now the circles were darkening again and Tim was staring at the coffee machine like he used to— like it was his only salvation.

Jason stepped up to Dick’s side, joining him in the bird watching.

“Hey Timbit,” Jason said, breaking the silence of the moment. Trust Jason to get down to it.

“Hum?”

“What happened to your hand?”

Tim blinked down at his gauze wrapped hand as if he had forgotten about the injury. Not a good sign with Tim. Dick was betting on over 48 hours without proper sleep at this point.

“Oh.” Tim said, the exclamation was emotionless. “Tim Junior bit me.”

Dick and Jason exchanged looks. Who now?

“Um, did you get a pet, baby bird?” Dick gently asked.

“Hum?”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Who’s Tim Junior, Timberino.”

“Oh.” Tim said. The brothers waited impatiently for Tim’s brain to roll over. “My coffee maker. Little brat refused to make me any…”

“Okay, yep, alright. No patrol for you tonight Timtam,” Jason said with a clap of his hands.

“Wait, what? No. Just let me get some coffee and I’ll be ready to go,” Tim whined.

“I think Jason’s right, Tim,” Dick said, stepping up to gently guide his brother away from the coffee machine.

Tim looked back over his shoulder at the machine as they walked away. Dick could practically see Jason building a plan as he lead them over to the vehicle area.

“We’ll go back to your Nest, Timbuktu. We can keep an eye on the ops from there while the rest of the idiots have to run around in this damn cold. Bet it’s going to sleet later,” Jason said gleefully.

“I see how it is, you just want to be warm. Sure you aren’t just faking those broken ribs to get some extra time off?” Dick asked, playing into the show of it. They just had to keep Tim distracted until Jason had him bundled back up in his apartment.

“Oh no. You’ve found me out,” Jason deadpanned as he tossed Tim his helmet. At least Bat reflexes were still in play and Tim caught the helmet without even looking at it.

“I knew it!” Dick cried, dodging Tim’s smacks as he doubled checked that the helmet was secure. “That’s it. I’m crashing your Nest Party after patrol so you better save me some food.”

“What makes you think there will be food?” Jason asked. His words were tough, but Dick watched him tug Tim’s arms until the other gripped him tightly. Baby bird was in good hands.

“Jaybird,” Dick said, “it’s you, of course there’s going to be food.”

Jason’s short was almost lost over the sound of the motorcycle starting. Dick waved enthusiastically as the bike sped out of the cave before he let his hand and smile both drop.

He really hoped that Tim just needed some sleep.

-

Dick landed silently onto the balcony. The lights were on low inside, changing subtly enough that Dick could tell the T.V. must be on. He found the hidden panel to flip up and enter his codes for the door’s locks to hiss open.

Jason was watching him from over the couch and even without seeing it, Dick could tell when Jason’s fingers relaxed around the gun he must had been holding. He raised a finger to his lips, and Dick gave a little nod back.

Dick slunk silently over to the couch, bracing his arms on the back right next to Jason’s head. He had to hold back a coo at the sight of Tim curled up under a fluffy green blanket with his head pillowed against Jason’s thigh. Jason must have known how close Dick was to making a noise because he smacked his hand into Dick’s face.

Hands raised, Dick backed away with a silent laugh. After rinsing off quickly in the shower he dug out some sweats from ‘his’ drawer in the guest bedroom. Tim might act like he never wanted them in his space, but he still kept a drawer for each of them stocked with civilian clothing and relaxing wear. And Dick knew his favorite cereal was stocked in the pantry too. Stomach rumbling, Dick padded back out to the open living space.

Jason must have pulled an Indiana Jones and slipped out from under Tim because he was in the kitchen making up a plate of left overs for Dick. Dick bounded over to peer into the boxes. “Ooh, Thai.”

He skipped back a step as Jason smacked at his hand with the serving spoon.

“How long has he been out?”

“Not long after eating. Food got here right after us, so most of the night,” Jason said, his words a low rumble in his efforts to stay quiet.

“Just tired then?” Dick asked, still hoping that was all it was.

Jason’s frown didn’t reassure him.

“What?”

“Sleep was restless for hours. He kept… dun know. Searching for something,” Jason said with a little shrug. “Not nightmares but not easy rest.”

Dick sighed and leaned back against the counter. He chewed idly on his thumb, wondering what was bothering their baby bird. “New cases?”

“Not from me. Wrapped the last one up last week and B’s out of town.”

“Damian wouldn’t ask. Steph is busy with the girls. And there’s nothing from me. Something made him take a turn.”

Jason just hummed and popped the plate into the microwave. Dick was never sure if Jason knew how much the noise sounded like one Batman would make. He never risked mentioning it. Dick glanced over at his brother and then past him as the shiny red caught his eye. “That it?”

“What?”

Dick jutted his chin at the coffee maker. “Tim Junior”

“…guess it is. Odd looking machine, aint it? Think he messed with it?”

“Someone had to,” Dick said, moving around Jason. The coffee machine did have a distinctly home brewed look to it. None of the knobs matched and the one panel was a slightly different shade of red like it had been spray painted to match.

“Freak’n mad scientist,” Jason groused as he stopped the microwave before it could beep.

“More engineering then he normally does,” Dick murmured. He reached out to flip the top of the machine open. It felt like solid work… the lid snapped back down with a clack.

“Shh.”

“…it wasn’t me. The machine moved.”

“Shut it, dickface.”

“I’m not kidding,” Dick hissed. “I just went to open it—”

The lid snapped open on its own.

Dick reached out to blindly smack at Jason’s arm.

“Stop it. I saw. Could just be a spring—” Jason reached out to touch it and the coffee machine lunged forward, narrowly missing Jason's fingers. "Holy fuck!"

“Did his coffee machine really bite him?!?” Dick screeched.

(Quietly.)

(He refused to wake Tim.)

“Maybe really, really strong springs?” Jason hissed back as he reached for the machine again.

Dick tackled the coffee machine as it sprang off the counter. The machine struggled, snapping its top open and closed as it strained for Jason. It was starting to heat up in his arms.

“Unplug it!”

“It’s not even plugged in!”

“What do you mean it’s not—”

The lock in the front door turned with a click and both brothers froze. The coffee machine snapped again in Dick’s arms and he shushed it without thinking.

The door creaked open.

“Tim? Starlight? You awake babe?” Whoever it was spoke quietly, like they knew how much of a light sleeper Tim was. There was a soft bang and a quiet curse as a slight figure slipped into the apartment hauling a carry-on suitcase and messenger bag that he dumped by the door. He turned away from locking the door and froze.

Three pairs of blue eyes blinked at each other.

“What are you doing to Tim Junior?” the stranger whisper screamed as he scrambled forward.

Dick let the guy snatch the coffee machine, backing up with his hands raised to show he was harmless. Not that he was, of course, he was running through all the places that he knew Tim had hidden weapons.

Not that the guy looked like much of a threat with the way he was petting the coffee machine and cooing at it. “It’s okay baby, the bad man doesn’t have you any more.”

Dick swore the coffee machine was purring back.

“Okay, who the fuck are you,” Jason growled.

Jason only got a single threatening step forward before he froze at a whine that came from a couch. Tim pulled himself up by the back of the couch, draping himself half over it.

“Danny?”

The guy— Danny— glanced at them before looking at Tim. “Hey starlight. So. Um, your brothers are here tonight?” The end of his sentence rose up in a little squeak.

Tim froze, going pale in a way that scared Dick a little as his eyes darted between all of them. “What day is it?”

“Sunday, babe.”

“Oh shit…”

“Want to introduce us, Timmallow?” Jason rumbled.

Dick was pretty sure that answer was ‘no the fuck I do not’.

Seems Danny thought the same as he jerked the hand not holding the coffee machine behind him. “I can just… leave and pretend I was never here?”

“No!” Tim said, scrambling over the back of the couch and sliding to stand next to Danny. “No, um. I should have—”

“It’s fine, babe.”

“No it’s not! I’ve been meaning to introduce you to them but— ugh.” Tim buried his face in his hands.

“Why don’t we go sit on the couch?” Dick suggested. He made sure to plaster on a cheerful smile. “Though, um, maybe without Tim Junior?”

Danny snorted and moved to set the coffee machine down on the kitchen island. Dick and Jason both gave it a wide berth as they headed over to the couch to sit. Dick steered them to stay on one side of the L-shaped couch while Tim and Danny sat on the other.

An awkward silence settled over the group.

Well they couldn’t have that. “So, Danny was it?”

“Yep, Danny Fenton. You’re… Dick? And Jason?”

“Yeah! Tim talks about us?”

“Of course, you’re his brothers,” Danny said. He reached up to rub at the back of his neck. “I guess… you haven’t heard about me?”

“Um, no,” Dick admitted. He could feel his smile falter for a moment at the hurt in Danny’s eyes.

“Danny—” Tim started.

“It’s fine.”

It didn’t sound fine.

“No it’s not,” Tim said. “I kept meaning to tell them but they— do you know how over the top they are? They would have been over here in five minutes to meet you and then for the next, like, week as they all got back into town. They would be everywhere for weeks and…”

Tim picked at his sweat pants, looking small and nervous. “And you just really moved in a few weeks ago and I wanted you to myself for longer.”

“Hey, starlight,” Danny said and reached out to curl his hand over Tim’s. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not and I’m sorry. So, officially, Danny, these are my brothers, Dick and Jason. Dick, Jason, this is my boyfriend Danny Fenton. He’s an engineering student at Gotham U.”

Dick offered his best smile. “I guess that explains the coffee machine!”

“Like fuck it does, that thing is alive,” Jason snapped. “It bit me!”

“You were grabbing him!” Danny said.

“It bit Tim too!”

“Aw, Tim Junior, no,” Danny sighed, taking Tim’s other hand and looking at the bandages carefully. “I wasn’t even gone for a week and you two were fighting?”

Tim whined. “He wouldn’t let me have any coffee!”

“How many cups were you on?”

Tim ducked his head in a mumble.

“How many was that?”

“Seven.”

“Tim!”

“You were gone! I couldn’t sleep,” Tim sulked.

The fight seemed to just drain out of Danny at that and he kissed Tim’s knuckles gently. “Ask your family next time before it gets so bad, okay babe? They’re obviously willing to look after you. And then Tim Junior won’t bite you.”

“Yeah Timmander, we won’t let you suffer,” Jason said with a smirk that had Tim narrowing his eyes at him.

Dick elbowed Jason (which was as effective as going for a brick wall). “We won’t. We’re happy to be around if you’re feeling lonely. Especially if it keeps you safe from your coffee machine!”

“Seriously,” Jason said, “What is that thing, er, Tim Junior made of?”

“Oh! Ectoplasm,” Danny said with a smile.

Dick paused. “…um, what?”

“Ectoplasm. You know, ghost juice?” Danny held out his cupped hand and green liquid pooled in it as if seeping out of his skin.

Jason leapt up and behind the couch before Dick was even registering what he was seeing. “What the fuck!? Why the fuck can your boyfriend make pit juice Timmy?”

Tim buried his face in his hands. “Not pit juice.”

“Ghost juice. Adjacent but very different, from what Tim has explained to me,” Danny said, the liquid fading away.

“That sure looked like pit water!”

“It wasn’t, see, pit water is pulled from the living while—”

“So,” Dick said quietly, leaning over to Tim. “Maybe not just that you wanted to keep him to yourself, huh?”

Tim just groaned and tried to bury himself under the green blanket and into the couch. “I should have just let Tim Junior eat me.”

-----

AN: Thanks to spite, finally got back to this and finished it up! I know not the firmest ending, but it covered what I wanted to~

Make sure to be better than Tim and hydrate and rest! Also stay delightful, darlings!