#sleep with an eye open goldie-

[ckret2]

Chapter 67 of human Bill Cipher gradually becoming less and less the Mystery Shack's prisoner:

Mabel's Guide to Secret Sleepovers!

They definitely won't get their lives endangered during the sleepover at all!! And if you believe that's not a lie, I've got a skyscraper in the second dimension to sell you.

####

A camera set up beneath the attic bedroom window recorded the dark room. In her pajamas, Mabel stood in the middle of the attic, boogying nervously to silent music.

A light shining from beneath the bedroom door turned off. Mabel stopped boogying, crept to the door, and leaned her ear against the crack.

She ran back to the camera and picked it up. "Okay," she whispered, "Dipper and Grunkle Ford are out on their mission, Stan and Abuelita are asleep, Soos finally knocked off building for the night, and Bill's in his new room. Welcome to... Mabel's Guide to Secret Sleepovers!"

She held up a flattened cereal box she'd written the title on. The title was almost invisible in the dark, but it was framed by stars painted on with glow-in-the-dark nail polish.

"Step one: getting your friends in the house." She turned the camera around. She swerved over to Waddles's bed as she crossed the room, whispering, "Hey, wanna come to the sleepover?"

Waddles snorted gently in his sleep.

"Aww, that's okay. Next time." She rubbed his belly, then crept toward the attic door.

She tiptoed in her socks down the newly-built hallway and past the curtain hiding Bill's new room, padded down the stairs, opened the back door, and hissed, "Pssst! Coast is clear!"

Out from the tree line ran Candy, wearing a camo-print blanket like a cloak, and Grenda, dressed in black and with her arms and face painted in brown and green. Grenda waved ecstatically at the camera as she passed.

With Mabel in the back, they quietly crept upstairs, quietly snuck past Bill's room, quietly closed the bedroom door, and quietly squealed with excitement. "First summer sleepover at the shack," Candy said, flopping on her back on Mabel's bed and spreading out her blanket cloak. She sat up, noticed a cardboard cradle next to Mabel's bed, and picked up the porcelain doll inside. "Oooh! Who's this handsome gentleman?"

"That's Bartholomew! I told you about him. Barty, these are my friends Candy and Grenda."

The doll did nothing.

"You can say hi, Barty! I trust them!"

The doll continued to do nothing.

"He's shy," Mabel said. "He's totally haunted by a little Victorian boy, though, really."

Candy nodded. "I believe you."

"This is cool!" Grenda said. She was trying to scrub the camo paint off her arms and face with her hands. "I've never gone to a secret sleepover before. Next time we should sneak into my place!"

"Okay, so," Mabel said. "I promised you I'd introduce you to the secret guy that's been staying here as soon as it was okay to. And it's okay to! As long as nobody else finds out I introduced you."

Grenda nodded. Candy said, "This sounds reasonable."

"Anyway his name's Goldie, he's been staying at the shack this summer, he's really fun, he's kiiind of a bad guy but in a cool way"—(Candy appreciatively said, "Oooh.")—"aaand he's asleep right now." A dramatic pause. "But not for long."

Candy and Grenda grinned evilly.

####

"Secret sleepover step two," Mabel whispered. "Introducing your friends to your other friend!" The camera's dark screen was illuminated by a slit of light as Grenda pulled open the curtain to Bill's room. The dim starlight pouring into the room was barely enough to illuminate the white lightning and yellow circle of symbols on the hanging zodiac blanket as the girls pushed past it to creep into the room.

Bill lay sleeping on the chaise extension of the orange sofa, catty-corner to the doorway, curled up on his side with his back to the door. Beneath his curls, the eye stitched on the back of his hood peered out at the room, shifting up and down with his steady sleeping breaths. The girls crept up behind him, biting their lips to keep from giggling. Candy and Grenda flanked Mabel, arms raised in preparation to attack, as Mabel held up her fingers... 3... 2... 1...

Bill rolled over with a devilish grin and lunged at them. "HEY, KIDS!"

The girls screamed. They bolted for the hall with Bill's laughter following them.

####

"You should've seen the looks on your faces," Bill gloated. He was sitting on the floor, legs crossed lotus style, in a semicircle with the three girls around the camera Mabel had set on the sofa. They'd set one flashlight next to the camera pointing out and another on the floor pointing at the ceiling.

"You got us good," Candy admitted.

Grenda leaned across the semicircle. "Hi! I'm Grenda. This is Candy."

"I've heard a lot about you two." Bill sat back, giving Grenda a somewhat less than warm smile. "Call me Goldie."

Grenda gasped. "Hey! Candy, look at his eyes!"

"What?" Bill's gaze darted between the girls' faces. His eyes caught the faint light and flashed like a cat's.

"They did it again!"

"Whoa!" Candy got up on her knees and leaned toward Bill. He leaned away.

Panic crossed Mabel's face. "Uhh, I can explain—"

"We knew it," Candy said. "We were sure you couldn't let us meet Goldie because he was a werewolf catboy!"

"I dunno," Grenda said. "They look more like frog eyes. They're kinda bulgy, too."

Bill stared at Grenda. A broad smile broke out across his face. "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said about them!"

Grenda asked, "Do your eyes suck into your face when you swallow like a frog's do?"

"I dunno, swallowing makes me blink. You tell me." Bill deliberately swallowed.

"Ugh, they do! Gross," Grenda said approvingly.

"Why do you have frog eyes? Are you a werefrog?" Candy asked. "Or did a mad scientist mutate you?"

Bill said, "You know the story about the frog prince? My great-grandfather."

"He is not."

"He could be!"

"Anyway," Mabel said, "Goldie's not any kind of not-human person or anything, that'd be crazy. He's just a big secret because he's committed war crimes, that's all!"

Grenda and Candy considered that.

"That's cool." Candy slowly pulled out a makeup bag. "Do you like makeovers?"

Bill eyed her appraisingly. "How good are you?"

####

The camera sat tilted off to the side, catching Grenda, Bill, and a bit of Mabel's hair. Bill and Grenda sat just out of the flashlights' range while Mabel and Candy off-screen debated how best to shape Mabel's lips. Grenda held a purple tube of foundation in one of the flashlights' beams; the tube had a logo that looked like a lilac triangle with a single eye and thick purple lips. She uncapped a black eyeliner pen, drew a big X over the triangle's eye and gave it a curly mustache, and added a cramped word bubble over it that said "UGLY LOSR." Grenda chuckled.

Past her, Bill's eyes flashed in the dark as they narrowed.

"Finished!" Mabel announced. She turned the camera to face the whole quartet again. "Secret sleepover step three: normal sleepover activities! Starting with... makeovers! Remember, you're beautiful just the way you are; but a real artist can look at a human body and see a canvas. And canvases are for paint!"

She pointed the flashlight at her own face. "I call this look... the Showstopper." She had eyeshadow, blush, and lipstick—in three different shades of pink—liberally caked on with a crunchy layer of multicolored glitter and with plastic gems bedazzling her brow and temples. It looked bad.

Mabel pointed the flashlight at Grenda. "This one's... Beach Babe."

Grenda said, "Like a mermaid!" She had blush painted to look like scales, clumpy blue mascara and blue eyeshadow shaped like waves, and lipstick that looked like a fish. It looked bad.

Mabel pointed at Candy. "And this is the Glam Rock Revival!" Candy had a shimmery blue star painted over one eye and half her face, and a smaller matching star on her opposite cheek. It looked unexpectedly good.

"And Goldie..." Mabel pointed the flashlight at his face. "He kinda just... let us experiment with some designs Candy found in a makeup book."

One of his eyes had a neon rainbow eyebrow and eyelashes and tiny glittery butterfly stickers. The other eye had golden eyelashes and bright blue and black flames that would look at home spray painted on an old school hot rod. It looked bad.

"I look awesome," Bill said.

"And check out our mani-pedis!" Grenda grabbed the camera and pointed it down at their hands and feet. Mabel had messy watermelon nails, Grenda had decent French tips, Candy's actually matched her makeup, and Bill—who, unlike the girls, wasn't so much showing off his nails as he was just sitting there while Grenda waved the camera around—had a different set on each hand and foot.

Mabel said, "Goldie let us each experiment on one set of nails."

Grenda pointed at Bill's right hand, "I did that one!" He had five extremely long glue-on nails, which in turn each had two more glue-on nails on top, each trimmed to a sharp point. All fifteen nails had garish pre-printed designs—stripes, polka dots, and three types of animal print. None matched.

Bill cheerily said, "I could stab clean through a grown man's throat with these."

Mabel leaned closer. "Goldie, why's your other hand so boring!" His left hand had all black nails.

Bill said, "Turn off the flashlights."

Mabel turned them off. Five glow-in-the-dark eyes peered up from Bill's nails. The girls ooohed appreciatively.

"Now what?" Candy asked. "We can't do our other usual sleepover activities. Rom-coms, karaoke, and saucy book readings are too loud for a secret sleepover."

"Aww," Bill groaned, "I was looking forward to karaoke."

"Candy's right." Mabel turned a flashlight back on. "We'll have to get creative. What's a good traditional sleepover activity that isn't too loud?"

They sat around for a moment in silent thought.

Bill turned the other flashlight on under his grinning face. "You girls ever summon a demon before?"

The girls smiled excitedly.

####

The camera trained on Grenda and Candy as they leaned over the lizard tank in the Mystery Shack's museum, staring at the "baby dragon" display. "Awww," Grenda cooed. "Look at them! They're so cute." She stood on her toes and crossed her arms on the edge of the tank. "How do their fake wings stay on?"

"Alien superglue. It'll last until their next shed," Bill said from behind the camera.

"They're very brown," Candy said, disappointed. "I guess it's good camouflage." She held up part of her camo blanket cloak to compare.

Grenda said, "I think they're either western fence lizards or sagebrush lizards. Do you know where Mr. Ramirez caught them?"

"In the forests around town," Bill said.

"Western fence lizards," Grenda said. "If they're boys, they'll have blue bellies!"

"Oooh." Candy crouched down eye-level with the lizards trying to see their bellies.

Grenda tentatively reached a hand into the tank to pick up one of the baby dragons; it skittered under a rock for safety.

Bill said, "You know your lizards, Grendo."

"Heh. Grend-O."

Candy said, "Grenda is the reptile and amphibian expert."

"I have a book on them! And a pet iguana!" Grenda announced. "Hey, Gold-O! What's your favorite lizard?"

Bill was silent a few seconds. "Leeet's go with chameleons. They've got cute eyes."

"Chameleons are my favorite too," Candy said. "I like how they change color. Their eyes are freaky, though."

Grenda said, "I like chameleon eyes! They're crazy! I think it'd be cool to look two different directions at the same time."

Bill lowered the camera slightly. "What, you mean like this?"

Grenda and Candy gaped at him in shock. Candy squealed in discomfort and shielded her eyes. "That looks painful."

Grenda laughed. "Cool," she said. "Hey, you like frogs too, right? What's your favorite frog!"

"Golden poison dart frogs." Bill answered without hesitation. "The brighter, the better."

"I love poison dart frogs," Grenda said. "On my death bed, I wanna lick one to find out what it tastes like!"

"Bitter sushi, until your mouth goes numb," Bill said. "But if you're gonna get drugged by a frog, make it a psychedelic toad. They're more fun."

"Ohhh. Thanks. Now I wanna taste sushi!" One of the baby dragons crept up a rock; Grenda tried, unsuccessfully, to catch it again.

Bill walked closer to the tank to film the lizards. After a moment, he asked, "What're your favorite frogs?"

"Oooh, that's hard." Grenda put her hand to her chin, thinking.

Candy said, "I think... the little green ones with the guts you can see through."

"Glass frogs," Bill provided.

"Either red-eyed tree frogs or strawberry poison dart frogs," Grenda said. "Maybe the tree frogs. Dart frogs have boring eyes."

"One of their only flaws." Bill paused. "What do you think about axolotls?"

"Mr. Pines lets me feed his sometimes," Grenda said. "They're kind of overrated, though. Frogs are better!"

"Hm." The hm sounded approving. Bill reached into the tank, effortlessly scooped his fingers beneath the wings and around the belly of a lizard, and lifted him up. Candy and Grenda gasped. "One male in the tank." He turned the lizard's blue belly toward the camera too. It wiggled in distress.

"Got it!"

Bill swung the camera around to look at Mabel, who'd just triumphantly come through the curtain from the gift shop. She was holding a box of rainbow chalk over her head. "The chalk Soos uses for sales and stuff!"

"Perfect," Bill said. "Manage to find a religious text?"

"No, buuut I found a copy of a DMV manual at the cash register." Mabel held up her find. "Will that work?"

"Hm." Bill considered it. "I've never seen someone try it before, but traffic law is just as imaginary as any other divine commands! Just try really hard to have faith in the rules of road safety and maybe it'll work. Never know unless we try it out!"

"Good enough for me!" Mabel said. "What did we need a religious text for, again?"

"Oh, once the demon's here, it's the only thing that'll be capable of banishing it, that's all," Bill said. "So! Where are we drawing this summoning circle?"

They found a clear space in the museum on the floor near the treasure chest display. Bill handed the camera momentarily to Mabel while he drew a four-inch version of the summoning circle for the girls to copy. "It needs to be white and blood red. Do we have any blood red chalk?" He rummaged through the box of chalk. "Hmm. Okay, either one of us can let a lot of blood, or we can try it out with pink chalk. What'll it be?"

Grenda and Candy looked to Mabel, considering the question seriously. Finally, Mabel said, "Pink chalk sounds like it'll be faster."

"I guess," Bill said, disappointed. He finished his example circle and stood. "Okay, there you go! Usually you're not even supposed to draw the circle unless you've fasted for twelve hours, but there's three of you and you haven't eaten in at least four hours, sooo it's probably fine."

Grenda raised a hand. "I had a soda. Is that bad?"

"Naaah, a soda's more bubbles than liquid, I bet it barely even counts."

Bill took over camera duties again as Mabel and Candy each took a stick of white chalk to draw half the circle. They started at different sizes. They had to do a weird wiggly slope in order to make the two halves meet. Candy asked, "Is that good?"

"Hmmm..." Bill considered the lopsided blob. "It's good enough!"

While Mabel and Candy puzzled over Bill's tiny pink protective sigils and tried to figure out how to draw them bigger, Grenda leaned over to Bill and whispered, "Hey! Are you really related to the frog prince?"

"No," Bill said. (Grenda's face fell.) "I was cursed by a witch. I can see through walls and in the dark, but in exchange I have frog eyes."

Grenda's face lit up again. "Stupid! Frog eyes just make you look even cooler!"

"That dumb witch had no idea what a real curse is. I got nothing but benefits," Bill said. "All right, you asked me one, let me ask you one."

Grenda looked at Bill with trepidation. "O-okay?"

"What's with the face you were drawing on that triangle?"

Grenda seemed relieved by the question. "Oh! We're not really supposed to talk about it much? But there was this triangle jerk that tried to take over the world last year. So we're supposed to cover up pictures that look like him. I dunno, it's a whole thing."

"Okay," Bill said irritably, "fine. How come you make him look stupid, though?"

"Because he was a big monster that hurt my friends and wrecked the town," Grenda said hotly. "He almost killed Mabel!"

Bill was silent a moment. "Sure," he said tersely. "If that's what it looked like, I can see how that would leave a bad impression."

"Hey, Goldie," Mabel said loudly. "I think we're done! Does this look right?"

"Let's see..." Bill inspected the circle, circling the perimeter with the camera. It looked bad. "Looks good enough," Bill said.  "All right! Everyone in position around the circle—Grenda, you're on the circle."

"Oops." She slid her foot back, smearing the chalk line and one of the protective sigils. "Uhh... I think I broke the ring?"

"It's fine, it's small! And you can still tell what the symbol is. Mostly," Bill said. "Okay, everyone remember the chant I taught you? Three, two..."

The camera's audio only recorded a long squeal of distortion instead of words as the girls started chanting. Bill backed up to get a better shot of the whole circle. The girls' eyes began glowing white; the flashlights flickered; and a fiery cloud of smoke filled the ring, billowing from floor to ceiling. The girls stumbled back, shielding their faces from the smoke.

"Hey, hey," Bill said. "Get back in there! If you stop the chant before it's complete, you'll—!"

With a boom, the smoke exploded outward, filling the room and completely obscuring the camera's view.

When it cleared up, the ring appeared to be empty.

Bill aimed the camera down and zoomed in. In the center of the ring was a tiny imp. It looked like a skinny coral-red hairless mouse with a spade-tipped tail and little bat wings.

"—you'll only get a small one," Bill finished.

They crouched down and stared at it. "It's cute," Candy said. Mabel said, "I'm naming her Cinnamon."

It blinked big wet black eyes at them. And then it scampered out of the gap in the chalk line.

The girls shrieked. The imp chased Candy around the treasure chest. Grenda tried to climb onto a display pedestal with a taxidermy jackalope, screaming, "Get it! Get it!"

"Candy! Run this way!" Mabel got on her knees, Oregon state driving manual held high over her head. As Candy ran past, Mabel shouted, "I do believe in the speed limit!" and swung the manual down like she was swatting a bug.

The manual smacked the imp. With a puff of smoke, it poofed out of the mortal plane and back to where it came from.

"Nice banishment, star girl," Bill said. "Hey, not bad for your first summoning, kids. You'll be bargaining with demon royalty in no time."

The girls heaved a sigh of relief. "That went pretty smoothly, I think," Candy said.

"Yeah!" Grenda climbed down from the pedestal. "There weren't any weird life-threatening twists or anything!"

"That doesn't happen a lot," Mabel said.

The camera suddenly lowered, pointing at the floor at an angle. "Hey, Mabel. Where'd you get this camera, anyway?" The camera's view turned back and forth. "It doesn't look like the one you usually record your guides with."

"Oh, yeah," Mabel said. "Dipper's using our normal camera, so I'm borrowing one I found in a box in the attic loft."

Bill said, "The cardboard box covered in fifteen strips of duct tape?"

"Uh-huh."

"So, the cursed camera?"

A pause. "The what?"

The camera's view became a blur as it whizzed across the room, only focusing again when the camera was ten feet in the air and staring down at the group of four. The camera's neck strap had wrapped tight around one of Bill's wrists, wrenching his arm into the air. Candy and Grenda automatically clung to his sides, the one adult in the room; he had his free arm raised up to avoid touching Candy.

"Well! This isn't ideal." The camera had a clipped, artificial-sounding voice—but a familiar one. "I'd been hoping you'd split up so I could steal your souls one by one!"

Mabel said, "Why do you sound like Grunkle Ford! Did you steal his soul?!"

"Stanford's voice is just the only one it's ever recorded before tonight," Bill said. "If it had stolen his soul, you'd know."

"How?"

"Because he'd be dead."

"Oh."

"So much for the element of surprise." The camera's sigh was laced with the crackle of VHS static. "But as long as my secret is out... time to hunt!"

"Huh! How about that," Bill said. "Kids? Run."

Grenda and Candy turned and bolted deeper into the museum.

Bill turned to stare at them in bewilderment. "Not that way—!"

Mabel threw herself on Bill's arm, trying to jerk down the camera and pull off the strap. "Let go of my friend, you—!"

The screen blurred as the camera butted the side of Mabel's head, knocking her to the ground. Panic flashed across Bill's face. "Mabel!"

The camera took advantage of his distraction to snap its strap around both his wrists, bind them together, and yank Bill closer. "At least I get to take out the biggest threat first," the camera hissed. "Smile for the camera, sweetheart."

Bill shot the camera a glare—and then seemingly got caught there, unable to tear his eyes away from the lens, as the camera slowly zoomed in...

And nothing happened.

"It's not working," the camera said. "Your soul should be sucked out by now. Why isn't it working?"

Bill shook himself out of the trance and laughed darkly. "Because a force too powerful for your little electronic mind to comprehend glued my soul in this body so tightly, even I can't pull it out!" He leaned closer until one wide bloodshot eye filled the screen. "Go ahead, give it your best shot! Maybe you'll help tug it loose!"

The camera paused. "Are... are you alright?"

Bill jerked back, scowling. "Oh, just shut— Mabel! Flashlight!"

"Flashlight!"

Bill tilted his head aside just in time for a flashlight to sail over his shoulder and crash into the camera. It shrieked inhumanly. It crash-landed at a tilt, a crack in its lens, the shot unfocused. Bill's blurry form looked down at the camera, holding the flashlight—and then he turned and ran for the curtain into the gift shop. The camera slowly rose back up.

Mabel shouted, "Bi—Goldie! Come back!"

"Keep it distracted!"

"You don't even need a flashlight, you coward!"

The camera's blurry view focused. The crack in its lens repaired itself. It stared at the curtain where Bill had disappeared, snarled, "Not worth it," and rounded on the museum.

And then it began stalking its prey.

The camera followed heavy thudding to find Grenda trying to knock down the main entrance's locked door. "Come on!" Grenda grunted. "This! Doesn't! Meet! Fire codes!" As she glimpsed the camera's approach, she gasped, flipped a rug over it, and bolted. 

It zoomed past Sascrotch, peered behind it, and caught Mabel and Candy clinging onto its back fur. They screamed, dropped down, and ran two different directions. The camera glanced between them indecisively and snarled in frustration when they both turned corners before it could choose a target.

It passed a six pack-o'-lope, a mummy, and a triclops skull; heard a papery rustle; and did a double-take at the displays. Grenda, wrapped in a bunch of receipt paper from the gift shop, ran away from the former "mummy" display.

It swooped under a taxidermy turtle with wings to find Candy hiding beneath the turtle's shell; Candy flipped the shell over the camera before she ran the other way.

It chased Mabel around a barrel of monkey heads, ending in a stalemate on opposite sides of the barrel with each of them twitching left and right trying to figure out which way to run; until it remembered it could just float over the top of the barrel. Mabel backed up and blew a handful of chalk dust in the camera's lens. By the time it wiped its lens clean on a dried monkey pelt, Mabel was gone.

It circled around the invisible man to see whether its cloak hid any children behind its back, made a noise of disgust when it didn't find any, and turned to leave. "Wait a minute. That man isn't invisible!"

Candy—her face beneath the "invisible man's" suspended glasses and bowler hat—sighed harshly and threw down her camo blanket, revealing she was sitting on Grenda's shoulders. "This camouflage doesn't do anything!" They tumbled to the ground and ran different directions.

This time, the camera didn't make the mistake of hesitating before choosing a target. It flew after Grenda.

Grenda stopped in a dead end with a gasp. "Uh-oh." She turned to see how close the camera was behind her, flinched, and tried to dodge around it. It jerked to the side, backing Grenda into a corner.

"Back off, you big, ugly—!" She punched the camera square in the lens, her fist filling the shot. The crunched lens had repaired itself before Grenda stopped shaking her smarting hand. She gasped and covered her eyes. "Please don't take my soul! I'm using it!"

"Not for long!" The camera's strap whipped around Grenda's wrists, yanking her hands down. "It's time for your close up!"

Grenda tried to turn her face away—but the camera caught her gaze, and she turned toward it, eyes wide, hypnotized. The shot zoomed in. A swirling green mist began spiraling out of Grenda's eyes.

Until another set of eyes cut in between, yellow and slitted and furious and framed by mismatched eyeshadow. "Miss me?"

"You," the camera snarled.

Grenda cheered, "Gold-O! You came back!"

"Hey, Grend-O." Bill glanced back over his shoulder. "Sorry for the wait—takes a while for glow-in-the-dark nail polish to charge and dry."

"Get out of my way!" The camera tried to butt the side of Bill's head.

He caught it in his left hand without looking, his arm extending off the edge of the screen like he was taking a selfie. "I don't think so." He raised his right hand—several of the ludicrous nail extensions had already broken off—with palm facing out. There was a symbol painted on his palm, glowing whitish green; but whatever symbol he'd painted on his palm couldn't be fully seen because the moment it was in full view of the camera's lens, it became so bright it almost completely washed out the rest of the frame.

The image skipped and the audio recorded a shriek of static before the camera managed to wrench itself free of Bill's grip and rush back.

Bill caught it by its strap, twisting it about his left wrist to keep it secure. "Now let's get this straight," he snarled, teeth bared at the camera. "Everything beneath this shack's roof is my domain and under my protection! If you want to hurt anyone here—" his voice dropped demonically low, "—you'll have to get through me." He dragged the camera closer. 

He clamped his right hand over the camera's lens, trapping it with the glowing symbol on his palm; the static screamed, stuttered; and then the film overheated and melted.

####

The camera switched back on. "Welcome back to Mabel's Guide to Secret Sleepovers!" Mabel's left eyeshadow and blush was smeared across her face. "Weee're back! Goldie taped a symbol to the camera that keeps it stunned, so we're safe! Woo-woo! Now, back to sleepover step, uh... seven or something: greeting the sunrise with your friends who didn't get any sleep!"

She turned the camera toward Candy and Grenda, who were sitting with her on the saggy sofa on the back porch. They were blinking dazedly toward the glowing horizon.

"And now you've completed a successful sleepover! Great job, everybody!"

"You kids can stay up if you want," Bill said. (Mabel aimed the camera down; Bill was lying on his stomach on the porch, cheek resting on his crossed arms, eyes shut.) "I'm already asleep."

"Boo," Candy said. "Sleepover quitters are lame."

"Yeah," Mabel agreed. "But he saved our lives, I think he earned it if he wants."

"Do you wanna sleep on the couch?" Grenda asked. "There's still some room! We could squish together!"

"Nah, s'more comfortable down here," Bill mumbled. "My back's killing me."

Grenda laughed. "Old."

"I got assaulted by a camera!"

"Hold on, I have an idea!" She got off the couch and knelt next to Bill. "I saw this at the mall once." She dug an elbow into his back. "Is this helping?"

Bill grunted. "More to the left," he said. "It might be helping a little bit..."

Grenda pressed her other elbow into his back, putting her upper body weight on it. "How 'bout now?"

"Not quite..."

Candy climbed on the arm of the sofa and crouched there. "Let me try!" Grenda leaned back. Like a wrestler, Candy jumped in the air and dropped, sharp elbow first, onto Bill's back.

Bill's eyes flew open and he let out a strangled shriek of pain. It petered out. "Oh, hey—that actually got it. Thanks, kids." He sighed in relief and immediately fell back asleep.

Grenda pumped a fist. "Yes!"

"He really was tired," Candy said.

"So, what'd I say, girls?" Mabel asked. "I told you Goldie was cool, right?"

"Okay, you were right," Candy said. "He is a very patient makeup mannequin."

"And he taught us how to summon demons and saved our lives," Grenda said. "And the first thing didn't even cause the second thing! Which is weird!"

Eyes still shut, Bill mumbled, "You flatter me."

"Hey!" Grenda picked up a sofa cushion. "You're supposed to be a-SLEEP!" She swung it down on his head. He only laughed.

"Yes!" Mabel cheered. "And the moral of the story is the friend of my friend is my friend's friend! Or—wait—no. The friend of my friend is my friend too?"

From under the cushion, Bill said, "The friend of my friend is my rival for her attention."

"No!" Mabel turned the camera to herself. "Anyway, that's Mabel's Guide to Secret Sleepovers! Tune in next time for... I dunno, maybe alpacas or something. We'll see!"

She set the camera in her lap, episode completed.

####

(Would you look at that, positive character growth. Hope you enjoyed, and looking forward to hearing y'all's thoughts!)

[squiddy-god]

If asks are still open can I request savanaclaw with a bf who is quite literally a golden retriever? (Their a golden retriever beastmen) make it nsfw if you want but that's up to you.

I decided to keep this as cute and fluffy but i really like the idea, i was torn between having reader be a member of savanaclaw  or themes till being the ramshackle prefect who happened to come from a world with similar beastmen. I left it ambiguous but yeah ♥︎REQUESTS OPEN♥︎ cw : none, fluffy, male reader!,

Leona 

At first he thought you were an annoying dog because like, cats and dogs haha

But he warms up to you, his silly puppy

The real grumpy x sunshine trope over here, honestly you can be a bit rambunctious sometimes but he just wants to cuddle 

You seem to just have a 6th sense for finding where he is lol like you can just automatically know where he is 

Will never admit it but the happy look in your eyes when he calls you a good boy for doing anything kinda makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside

Same with when he sees your tail wag when you see him 

You can pry that from his cold dead hands tho

He really values the loyalty that you have 

He is not immune to puppy dog eyes so use that info however you want 

Claims that cuddling when you let him scratch behind your ears helps him sleep better, he's a dirty liar and just wants to pet you 

Has never gotten used to you basically pouncing on him when hes napping but makes you pay in cuddles so its fine

Thinks its really cute if you do the thing dogs do when they sleep and chase things in their dreams 

He calls you “puppy” and “mutt” affectionately but if anyone else was to call you either he will be having words (read : hands) with them. 

Ruggie 

He loves this actually 

He ends up roping you into all of his schemes because you two always seem to be together, where one of you is the other is close behind 

He loves how sweet you are, and he often makes you food as a little treat

I think he would like having little matching charms, his being a golden retriever cham and yours being a hyena because obviously 

Favorite activity is flopping your ears because you are too adorable really 

He loves when you get all excited and run up to him and almost tackle him with a hug 

Yapper x yapper 

Teaches you the true ways of the puppy eyes so that you and him can tag team leona lmao because again he is not immune to puppy eyes

You become his little helper for everything and he loves rewarding you with treats and cuddles because you are in fact his goodest boy 

I think his nickname for you would be goldie because ya know golden retriever 

Jack

The two goddess boys 

He thinks you are so cute because he is a wolf beastman and you are just a doggy lol, 

He would never admit that but its super obvious with the way his tail is wagging furiously 

Its cute because when you two hug or kiss both of your tails are going absolutely bonkers 

I think he likes to play wrestle like dogs do, but the whole time hes trying to be gentle because again he's a whole wolf lmao 

Can't hold your hand without his tail going nuts because he sees your tail going nuts and he gets embarrassed 

Another one where you can tackle him with a hug, but unlike ruggie he will just catch you lmao 

If you try to be intimidating he secretly thinks its also cute because he really sees you as too cute

[biteofcherry]

The triple alphas! 🥵

We know it’s all 🥵 all the time…

But I also know YOU like your sleep. Do Steve, Curtis, and Ari let you sleep, or do they need their omega sometimes in the middle of the night? 24 hours in a day just doesn’t seem like enough to satisfy the three of them.

Goldi locked

Ari Levinson x Curtis Everett x female reader x Steve Rogers

Steve sensed the shift of your body, but didn't stir. Your fingers squeezed his tighter as you held his hand close to your cheek.

However, when he felt another movement - smooth, but heavier, his eyes instantly opened.

In the shadows of starry night, Steve's eyes met Ari's mischievously twinkling gaze over the slope of your shoulder.

Ari, who was sleeping on your other side, gently rolled your body closer to Steve's and moved your leg to lay over Steve's thigh. Which exposed your bare pussy to his wicked fingers.

Curtis was softly snoring on the far edge of the bed, not yet disturbed by Ari's shenanigans.

"Let her sleep." Steve whispered, narrowing his eyes.

"I'm not waking her up," Ari smiled, stroking his fingers between your folds and drawing out the sweet wetness.

You chirped in your sleep when he slowly pushed a single digit in, but otherwise remained deep in slumber.

"I'm just going to-" Ari grunted lowly, withdrawing his finger and replacing it with the head of his cock- "feel her, ahh!"

"Shhh!" Both Steve and Ari cooed in unison, when you tensed and stirred at the intrusion.

Ari's chest pressed against your back, a soothing vibration resonating through your bones as he purred for you.

Your other hand moved from where it rested tangled in the sheets near your belly, seeking Steve's body. Fingers bumped into his hip and feeling the familiar heat of him, you simply rested your hand there.

"If you don't leave it at cockwarming and start fucking her before she wakes up on her own, I swear I'm gonna install a lock in her bedroom, so she can keep your ass away." Curtis' gruff voice resounded in the darkness.

[oonajaeadira]

Leave Off Your Wandering pt. 4: Winter

Fandom: The Last of Us (TV)/ Joel Miller

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Reader: Adult female. Old enough to have been an adult on Outbreak Day. Wyoming born and bred. Sheep farmer, easy-going but confident and self-sufficient. Likes to sing, not a great cook. Childhood friend of Maria. No other physical descriptors; no use of y/n.

Rating: Mature.

Warnings: Mentions of sex but nothing explicit. Canon-typical violence, bodily harm, death,  (blood, broken bones, knife wounds, shooting, blunt force) and PTSD.

Summary: Revenge comes calling and you work though it as a family.

A/N: Series set after season 1 and then diverges. Does not acknowledge the existence of further plot/seasons, although it does use some characters/elements from the second game.

I’m so sorry it’s taken this long to get to winter. This one was difficult for me to face writing for reasons that may be made clear. But it was very rewarding. <3

The air is thin and cold this morning, takes your breath and makes a show of it as you quickstep it down to the stables. The sun is just starting to make the frost sparkle and no doubt Goldie will be using up the rest of the firewood at the Roost today.

Good thing you have a Joel who’s ready to chop more.

Although he’s also a Joel that’s forgotten his tea, the “stuff with the things in it” that Willa gave him for the stiffness in his knees. With this cold he’s going to want it today on patrol and the last thing you think you can stand is the tug in your heart when he comes home complaining of the cold and the ache and you sitting warm and cozy with his thermos on the counter when you had the legs to trot it on out to him.

It’s a relief to round the corner and find the patrol party still at the stable gate, Tommy helping one of the teens with their rifle strap, and Joel waiting on horseback, weaving his gloved fingers together, packing them down at the valleys to get his hands all the way in.

He’d laid one of those hands on your cheek this morning. Gentle. First thing you saw when you opened your eyes. Like most mornings now. His thumb rounding the rim of your cheek so he could lean in and take a good long drink of a kiss.

He likes it that way…soft, slow. Likes to pull you in as close as he can, twist his forehead into your temple when he hits his peak, jaw clenched in agonized pleasure, kisses along your jawline when you find yours, his eyes half-lidded and watching you in a hazy awe. He’s quiet but thorough, completely  present like he can’t believe he’s got this little slice of warmth, sighs a hushed curse in your ear and calls you sweetheart in the same breath, and then sleeps like a baby the whole night through.

He doesn’t like to talk about the past much, but listening’s your specialty and it comes out in bits and pieces, stuck between the little he does say. You come to understand that he very rarely got to be very close with anyone while Sarah was growing up. There were the years when everything was a nightmare. Then there was Tess and she brought him out of that, thank goodness. But it took time. And there was also denial and survival and means to their ends. There might indeed have been strong love there. But you have the feeling he’s not had this–or anything like it–for a long, long time.

So if he wants it soft and slow, then who are you to deny him?

Maybe it shouldn’t be so surprising that it was him who pulled you in a little closer.

“What if you didn’t move in with Tommy and Maria this winter?” He’d lingered the morning after Christmas, leaning one shoulder against the frame of your bedroom door, savoring the show of you getting dressed for the day.

“And waste the fuel? Why? So we can cuddle up now and then without your brother down the hall? You keep me plenty warm, Joel Miller, but I’m not going to heat this whole house just for me and your more-than-casual visits. Everyone’s got a responsibility here to conserve in the winter. This is how I do my part. And besides,” you purred as he stepped in to button up your flannel for you, freeing up your fingers so they could run through his curls, “I know where you live and your bed’s good as mine.”

“You seem to like it there well enough.”

“I do.” His beard was growing in all but a patch on his jaw that was now your right to kiss.

“Well I was thinkin’ we just make it ours for the winter.”

His hands had circled your hips and his words had stopped your heart, but there was little for to say with his lips pressed against yours.

So mornings often started as they did today, waking to find Joel beside you, roused because you can feel him watching you with that little half smile that reveals the crack in his weary heart where the light shines through. Who needs spring to come with sunshine like that to turn to? Now there are family breakfasts with Ellie and cozy days knitting in the company of Maria and Riley and then warm nights with Joel on one of those pillowtopped mattresses that were all the rage before the outbreak…the ones that are great when you have a stiff back, but even better because the springs don’t squeak…

“Aw dammit,” Joel says when he sees you nearing the stables with the thermos, “Knew I forgot something.”

“Two somethings,” you say pointing to his bare head and passing your hat up to him in the saddle. “Your ears are already bright red. Here. Take my hat.”

“This’s Ellie’s.”

“Huh. Guess I just grabbed one on my way out. Oops. Be a man. Wear a pompom.”

He pulls it down over his ears and smiles. “Matches my scarf.”

You’d had a small batch of deep red wool you’d managed to squeak a hat and scarf out of and gifting the hat to Ellie around Christmas, but the scarf went to Joel. He may not want anyone to think of him as sentimental, but it was worth your while to make it easy on him by giving him something that was also practical. Even if he had his jacket zipped up all the way, it was always there, tucked around his neck; he may leave his ears to the elements but he never went anywhere without that scarf.

The line of horses start making their way toward the Jackson gates and you squeeze Joel’s shin before stepping out of the way, letting him and his horse follow the group. He simply lets a gloved finger glance your cheek as he passes by.

All the way out here on this side of the apocalypse and humans still have a million variations on saying “I love having you around and I’d like to keep it that way.”

________

“Ellie’s more than welcome around here if you and Joel don’t want to leave her home alone.”

Maria’s lightly bouncing a wet-faced and blubbering Riley on her lap, trying to tempt him with a frozen carrot for his teething. He has tommy’s curls and they sproing with every boing.

“Nah, she wants to come out. We’ll be dividing the ewes and driving part of the flock into the old town for the rest  of the overwinter and she wants to see how it's done. Should see it, if she thinks she’ll be entering the rotation at any point. Speaking of,” you grunt, leaning down to gather your knitting basket and gather your things, “I promised I’d meet her after school. She’s gotten into collecting cassette tapes and the commissary says she’s hit her quota on goods this week. Gonna give up a couple credits so she can discover the wonders of Joan Jett and the Beastie Boys.”

“That’s throwing gas on the fire. She pick those out herself?”

“Nope. My points, my choice. And I say that girl needs to fight for her right to party and put another dime in the jukebox, baby.”

Maria rolls her eyes, chuckles, goes light on the sarcasm. “You’re the coolest auntie.”

“Don’t I know it,” you laugh, tying up your boots.

“Joel’s gonna just love that.”

Leaning in to bop a quick kiss to Riley’s head, you give Maria a crazed grin. “So much.”

Ten minutes later, Ellie has her doubts, holding up a cassette at the commissary. “But there’s a dinosaur on this one! How can it not be great?”

“Listen, missy. I’m not saying Dinosaur Jr. doesn’t have a place in music history, but I’m telling you that you’re likely to be disappointed. Trust me. Just this once.”

Ellie makes a face but you glance past it, distracted by what you see through the window behind her. Following your focus, she turns to look too. “Who’re they?”

All of the patrol horses coming back in have two people on them–a member of the party, and a stranger. And all the strangers can’t be more than teenagers.

“Dunno, but it looks like you’re about to get some new classmates. I’ll sign these out. You go ahead and make a good first impression.”

“You’re just sending me out there because you know if they’re infected, I can’t catch it.”

“If they were infected, they wouldn’t be on those horses or inside those gates. I’m sending you out there because you have a way of reading people. Go.”

Something in that puts a gasp in her throat and a sparkle in her eye and her ponytail whips behind her as she goes, striving to live up to the compliment.

But really, you just want half a minute to take a good look at the kids without Ellie asking questions. They’re all scrawny and filthy. Backpacks. Been traveling and living rough for a while now. Where’d they come from? What’s their story? Not an adult among them. How have they survived? You’d swear something feels off, but that’s the world now. Can’t be too careful. Everything seems off all the time. 

Question is, off by how much?

You find Joel in the group; he’s the only one riding with a kid in front of him rather than hanging on behind. And once he gets down off the horse and reaches up to help his passenger down, you can see why.

She’s pregnant.

Shit. She’s what, fifteen? Sixteen?

Shit.

“There’s a house up near mine has good plumbing turned on.” Tommy’s speaking over his shoulder to the small group and leading his horse to the stable door as you come out of the commissary. “We’ll get you all washed up and fed. There’s at least two beds there and some other furniture fit to sleep on if it makes you comfortable to stay together. Give me a minute to put Lady away here and we’ll walk on up together. Joel? A word?”

Handing off the pregnant girl’s backpack to her, Joel takes the reins of his horse and follows his brother inside, leaving the newcomers to look around them and take in the town.

All but one. A girl with hair that’s neither light brown or dark blonde, somewhere in between. Your mother would have called it dirty dishwater blonde and you always thought that was rude. But your mother also would have said the girl had a hatchet of a face with a strong jaw like that. And it’s that girl whose head whips around the second she heard Joel’s name, quickly scanning the patrol to ascertain who belonged to it, and stands watching the stable door in thought long after the Miller brothers were gone.

Was Joel her father’s name? Her brother’s? Is it hers or close to hers? Is she a Jo or Joelle?

“Abby. Hey,” a boy calls and she turns. “Mel should get a bed and we can share. Manny and Nora can share too…if you’re okay with taking a couch.”

“Fine,” Abby says. Her eyes and mouth all unmoving lines.

“Hey. Welcome to Jackson. I’m Ellie.” Your starling jams her hands in her pockets as all the new eyes turn her way. “It looks like you’ve been wandering. Where you coming from?”

The boy who spoke before blinks and opens his mouth to say something, hesitates. You’d take him for the leader up until the moment Abby speaks for him.

“West of here. QZ. Seattle.”

“Oh. Cool,” says Ellie with a bounce to her nod. Easy. Instantly welcoming. “I came out of Boston.”

Seattle QZ. The same one your dead husband and his sister came from. Not a good place. Warring factions and nothing but oppression and disease, last you heard. Good that they got out. They’re gonna need to be de-loused. 

But Seattle’s also much harder than most zones to break free of. You’ve been told the Western Liberation Front makes FEDRA look like a bucket of clowns.

“Seattle?” Now it’s your turn to pull focus from the group. “We’ve had refugees from there before. You really get out of there in one group like this? With no grown ups?”

Abby rips her eyes away from Ellie. “It’s a long story,” she says, shutting the questioning down.

There’s a moment that hangs between you and that stinks faintly of threat, but is mostly just the smell of feral kids. Tension breaks as the men emerge from the stable.

“We all ready?” Tommy says, making his way down the road and waving a hand for them to follow. “New home’s this way.”

Ellie starts to fall in with the group and you pull her back in close, speak low. “Go with them if you want, but keep your distance.”

“What? Why?”

“These are your first refugees. You’ll learn that they sometimes bring things with ‘em.”

Her face screws into a question mark. “What things?”

“Fleas. Lice. Viruses. Just give ‘em some space for a while.”

After the quickest flash of disgust, Ellie’s tried and true compassion kicks in and she gives an understanding nod as she turns to go, tape cassettes clattering in her jacket pocket.

You keep watching her even as you speak to the owner of the hand snaking around your waist. “Where’d you find them?”

“Up at the old crossing. They were under attack.”

“Jesus.”

“Nope. Infected.”

“Been a while since we’ve seen any of those stumble through here.”

“Infected? Or the kids.”

Turning to him in exasperation you look him over. “Both. And the same goes for you as for Ellie, Foxy. Let’s take you home and wash that scarf and hat. Run a fine-toothed comb through that hair just to make sure.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” he says, stopping when he catches your zero-temperature glare. If it’s something else you love about Joel, he recognizes when something’s important to you and answers a lady with composure and respect. “Yes, ma’am.”

____

“You couldn’t have found her some Cash or Fleetwood Mac or something?”Joel grumbles into the fireplace as he places another log on the coal bed and moves the poker around like he’s doing something.

Ellie sits on a blanket near the fire, reading a comic book, headphones on, Joan Jett’s grinding guitar bleeding out into the otherwise quiet living room. With his face turned to the fire and Ellie facing away from you, she most likely can’t hear the conversation that’s happening around her if you keep your voices low.

“You’re just jealous that she asked me to pick something out instead of you,” you smile on the couch, picking up your feet and swinging them into his lap as he sits down beside you. “80’s rock is good for her spiky little soul.”

“80’s means trouble,” he counters, considering her as his hands absently squeeze and rub at your feet.

You go back to your book. Seemingly anyway. It’s easy to steal observing glances from where you are. The thoughtful concern he has for Ellie. You can see him looking over the wood in the hopper and calculating how many days of fuel he has before you all head out to the Roost. A twist of a lip tells you he’s realized he might be a day short and needs to chop more. His gaze drops to his lap as he lightly massages your feet–just running his hands along their contours, pressing a thumb in here and there to tenderize a muscle. The firelight loves him, plays at the edges of his curls, slides down his nose, kisses the purse of his lips.

You jump as he slides a tickling fingertip up the sole of one foot. “Hey!”

“What you get for staring.”

“I wasn’t staring at you, I was reading.”

“Must be pretty small print you don’t turn a page for five minutes.”

Taking off your readers and closing the book, you sit up and deposit them on the coffee table. From here it’s easy to scoot up to him and lean an elbow on the couch back. “What’s got you so thinky tonight, hmm? You look like you’ve got your worry pants on.” There’s a curl right behind his ear that’s so easy to twirl in your fingers and you indulge. You’ve found a little touch helps him open up.

“I can’t help thinking about those kids, thinkin’ they could just wander out in the world like that. If it weren’t for us hearing the runners….” He goes quiet a minute and you let him, his gaze haunting Ellie’s direction but living somewhere in the past. “They gotta be somebody’s kids. I can’t believe Seattle’s so bad they just let ‘em run wild…let ‘em run away from the best you got for ‘em.”

A faint guitar blares from Ellie’s headphones as she flips a page, purses her lips, absently nods along.

“Yeah, well teenagers rebel, Foxy. That’s what they do.”

“No,” he says, softly, resolutely, a tick of his jaw. “Not all of ‘em. Not if they’re loved. And fiercely. And I don’t know a love that isn’t fierce.”

It’s the look on his face that makes you believe him.

Love isn’t a word that Joel bandies about. It’s easy to see it work in him. The way he tells Ellie no when she wants to do something reckless but promises her something just as exciting, going to any length to make her smile. The way he holds Riley’s head in the crook of his arm, his other hand reflexively coming out in defense if anyone gets too near the baby’s soft spot. The way he shoves his brother with a laugh when Tommy picks on him or how he helps Maria to her feet when she’s been on the floor too long, even if she says she doesn’t need it.

The way he… with you he…

His hands work at your feet again. He understands the minute levels of his strength, knows how firm to go without bringing pain.

With you, it’s the way he rolls over and shows you his soft places, invites you in to be a part of it.

Not really what you’d call fierce. Does that mean he doesn’t–

“Is a cherry bomb like a little bomb or a big bomb?” Ellie asks, an earpad pulled away from her ear and spilling Cherie Currie’s stuttered chorus.

“It’s a little one. A firework. But it packs a big punch. It’ll take your fingers off. Hello, world, I’m your wild girl, I’m your ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch cherry bomb,” you sing, pushing your foot against Joel’s thigh with every beat. 

“Alright, that’s it,” he says, wrapping a big hand around your ankle to secure it. “Ellie, run on up and get my guitar. Lemme teach you a better song.”

In the minute it takes for her to come back, Joel foregoes softness for force, tickling relentlessly, almost ending up with a foot in his face with how much you squirm.

___

Church isn’t really your thing, never was. You have your own way of listening to the beauty of the earth that doesn’t mean sacrificing a morning sleeping in to listen to lessons you’ve already learned and hold true.

But today you’ve come to the after-brunch curious to welcome the new residents and managed to show up a little early. So you’re standing in the back of the mess hall with Maria and Riley, waiting for the final hymn to end, for the preacher to call an end to the service and a beginning to the meal.

Maria leans in and murmurs in your ear as the final chorus comes. “Tommy and the crew are working on one of those bigger houses with the vaulted ceilings in the new district so the church can have its own building.”

“They’re not gonna like having to walk over there.”

She shrugs, adjusts Riley’s teething toy and bounces him up a notch. “Might cause some of them to move over there. Thin out the density. Easier on the power grid. We do have five new residents.” 

You watch as one of the new boys–Owen–helps the pregnant Mel to her feet. “Soon to be six.”

Once the kitchen starts serving, Owen and Mel find their way over to your table, eager to meet Riley and ask Maria all kinds of questions about childbirth and your friend finds herself in a mentoring role she didn’t ask for. She’s not opposed to being helpful, just lets her judgment slide through on the whole babies having babies thing which completely flies over the kids’ heads.

They’re good enough kids, but something tastes a little sour when Owen tries to include you in the conversation.

“What about you? You and…is his name Joel? You gonna have any kids?”

It’s a rude question. He’s earned your side eye and he knows it, but smiles through it, playing innocent.

“Already got one. One’s enough,” you laugh, sly, chewing through some boiled oats and letting him know you’re gonna let that one slide.

“Oh, yeah, right. Ellie, right?” he asks, with a flick of his eyes to a table behind you. Turning, you find Abby at a table with some other residents and when you turn back it’s with a dry expression that tells him he’s worn out his turns at beating the bush and should be out with it.

“We just were wondering if she’d show us around,” Mel explains. “She’s the only one of the children here who will talk to us.”

You snort. “Don’t let Ellie hear you call her a child. She’s short for her age, but she’s not much younger than you. She likes people, but that won’t win you any points.”

“And don’t worry about the other kids,” Maria takes over, shooting you a look. “They’ll come around. A lot of them were born here and they don’t see a ton of new people.”

“Are they not coming to the brunch today?” Owen asks.

“Who?”

“Ellie and Joel.”

Shaking your head, you swallow your latest bite. “Joel and Tommy are off getting some work done in the new sector and Ellie would bite my face off if I woke her up before high noon on a weekend. But she knows where you’re staying. I’ll send her around to you once she’s up and acting like a whole human.”

You’re about to change the subject and ask them a few questions of your own but Riley starts fussing and Mel asks to hold him and the whole baby talk starts up again.

When you look over your shoulder, Abby is gone from the table. Left her dish for someone else to clean up.

There’s a thought creeps in that maybe Ellie can teach them all some manners. And then you remember the mouth on your starling and smile.

____

“And Owen showed me some of his drawings and they’re so amazing. He’s like a fucking Picasso or something. He says he’ll give me lessons if I can get Mr. Scowlface here to take him out hunting. Says he misses hunting deer with his dad. And Abby wants to go too. I told her how you taught me to use a shotgun and she seemed really interested to learn. She might want to join the patrols some day. But I told them not this week since we’re going out to the Meadow and they all had questions about that. Abby especially–” 

Ellie has a remarkable talent for chewing and talking at the same time. She catches a piece of apple that escapes her mouth, slurping it off the back of her hand where it landed, then downs the rest of the milk and wipes her mouth with the cuff of her sweater, leaving you to negate your silent praise of her manners from earlier in the week and giving you a break in the chatter to speak.

“Well, you’re a little young to be recruiting your own Roostlings, but if Abby or any of the others want to come out sometime and see what the fuss is about, they’re welcome. I’d rather them wait until spring though, or at least until we get the whole of the flock back from the deep winter holding grounds. Chickadee’s taking up the caboose on that.”

As you push the carafe of chicory coffee toward Joel and clear the breakfast plates, Ellie snatches the last hunk of bread you left on yours, shaking her head. “Abby’s afraid of heights. Didn’t even have time to tell her about the Roost being up on stilts. What’s a caboose?”

Joel scoffs. “Last car on a train.” He takes a long, loud drag of his coffee, pouring on the annoyance to get a glare out of the girl and succeeds. “Well, if she don’t like heights, she’s not going to enjoy learning patrol duty either, not with the watchtowers and the mountain trails. And don’t go promising services you can’t guarantee. I’m not a scout leader.”

“What’s a scout leader?”

“Someone with a lot more patience than me. Get.”

Taking up her backpack, Ellie makes her way to the front vestibule to pull on her gear.

“Don’t forget your hat and scarf!” You call to her, but smile at Joel as you perch your butt against the table and tuck a little curl behind his ear. He’ll ask you to cut it soon. And you’ll put it off for as long as possible.Tickles, he'll say. I know, you'll say.

“Thanks, Gramma Betty!” she calls back and pulls the door shut behind her as Joel lays a warm hand on your outer thigh.

“What’er you getting up to today?” he asks.

You shrug. “I’m in carding mode. Got a whole bag of washed fleece needs combing. I’d ask you what you’re up to, but I assume you and Tommy are gonna be tearing down some poor old house.”

There’s a moment where he squints, thiinking. His thumb tracing the outer seam of your jeans. 

“I want you to come with me. Got something to show you.”

“Really. Well I like the sound of that. I could use a little walk in the bitter cold with a mystery at the end of it. Gonna have to go pull on a heavier sweater though. Might need to take this one off first. You wanna come watch?”

There’s a knock at the front. Tommy. The door opening.

Joel only grins fondly and pats your thigh, sending you off, before pushing the chair back from the table and separating himself from his coffee mug. “I’ll catch the later show. ‘Specially if it calls for audience participation.”

Five minutes later, bundled and booted, the three of you head out toward the new section, Joel with his scarf tucked in tight and hat pulled down low, and Tommy with a set forced upon him because you’re quickly becoming the winter clothing police around here.

It’s not a long walk. Jackson was never more than a few miles wide and this is just the first expansion of the wall. You’ve wandered over during the construction crew’s activities enough to know the way without being led, but what you’re expecting is for Joel to lead you away from the furthest street, away from the beautiful A-frame house so neatly repaired along with its pretty neighbors and up the street with Tommy to the next clutch of houses they’ve been working on. 

But instead, Joel tells his brother he’ll be along in a minute, and Tommy smiles knowingly as he continues on, leaving the two of you in the walkway up to the pretty A-frame that’s so much like the Roost’s bigger sister.

“You know what today is?” Joel asks, hands in pockets, squinting up at the peaked roof.

“Friday?”

“Probably,” he says, shifting focus to his boots. “I was thinking more holiday-wise.”

The air’s particularly crisp today, hitches in your lungs as you take each mental step and catch up with him.

February 14. Valentine’s.

As your mouth drops open, he jerks his chin at the house. “You like this one, right?”

“What…what are you….Joel?”

There’s a cringe that belies his confidence, maybe a tinge of regret. “I just figured we were gettin’ along so well, that maybe you’d… It was just an idea–”

He can’t even look you in the eye until you yank his hand awkwardly out of his pocket and wrap your gloved hand around his. He seems almost shocked to see your tears welling up–true, half from the cold–but he’s also relieved. Big breath in, big breath out. That must have been the hard part.

Words aren’t Joel’s way. This is how he tells you just how deep his feelings go. You know he’s had time to imagine with every window replaced, every floorboard leveled out, every load bearing wall reinforced,  just which family was going to get to live in this house and what kind of life they might make in it.

What kind of life you might make together here.

So you take his lead and say only what’s necessary, as steadily as you’re able. 

“Take me inside.”

His sheepish grin confirms that it was exactly what he’d hoped to hear.

The interior’s simple, but gorgeous. The dark wood gleams, and the whole back wall of the A frame is windowed. The triangle at the top replaced with a leaded stained glass in a sunrise of orange and rose that reflects the undertones in the timber inside and the pines out the window, the mosaic just high enough to catch the last rays that will come in over the mountains at the end of the day and turn the whole place into a dream. The open floorplan has the kitchen near the door, but over by the windows….

Joel gives the tour. The hand-laid stones in the fireplace. The built-in shelves for your books. This is the corner where your favorite chair can go, nearest the fire and where there’s good light for spinning. This rug was here, still good. He points out to the little shed in the back–a place for wool dying, he can hang pegs in there however you need them.

If he weren’t so occupied in explaining the wood he chose to finish the countertop, the way he followed the original dovetailing in the doorframe, the pattern he made with the reclaimed wood in the floorboards, he may have seen you admiring the most important part of the house…or, rather, the most important person in it.

There’s more. Two bedrooms, one off each side of the main part of the house, each with its own bathroom, the larger one with its own porch overlooking a little creek.

“The basement’s not quite done, but I figure I’ll just use that for my own. Felt you might not like the…vibe…”

Ah yes. The former owners. He took care of that too. 

He took care of everything.

“I love it, Joel.”

“Yeah?”

“If there was a stronger word, it would be yours, believe me.”

He only wraps his arms around you as you dive in to squeeze him.

“Good,” is all he says. Breathes in the scent of your hair. “That’s good.”

________

The ewes hate the leader ropes, but they follow, bleating now and then as you slowly guide them through the woods toward the Meadow’s north entrance. Joel’s got two behind his and Ellie’s horse, and you’ve got four behind yours, a small party, but the only ones that were ready to come on back out after the coldest weeks.

Goldie’s happy to lead them out to the rest of the flock while you and Joel go up and get situated, get warm, get ready for the week ahead. Ellie follows Goldie and Joel hangs his watch by the door. All’s quiet in the Roost.

Until Joel’s tongue clicks. “That beam is bowing,” he points up to one of the main rafter struts on the far side of the room. “Wood stove keeps this side warm and the snow melts off, but there’s no balcony on the other side. No way to rake the snow off the roof. Tommy should have known better.”

“Well it’s not like he’s had a lot of practice with big boy tree forts, I’m guessing,” you say, dumping a sack of potatoes near the cook pile and throwing the stack of fresh sheets onto the bed. “Does it need to come down?”

“Don’t think so. But come spring we’ll add on another balcony and do some reinforcement.”

As he runs his hand up the wall seam, you come up behind him, hugging him from the back with the sole purpose of distracting him, your way of letting him know he’s obsessing like an old man. It gives you the right angle to grab onto his open jacket and start pulling it off him. “Take this off and stay awhile.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Goldie takes her leave on your horse, guiding Joel and Ellie’s behind, glad to be going back to more warm water than she can heat on a stovetop, and Ellie helps to cart a few buckets of the colder variety up from the stream so you can all just stay in for the night.

Then it’s stew and cards, and Ellie kicking Joel’s ass at Scrabble, all of you bundled in wool sweaters and slippers handmade by you and Chickadee, the firelight glinting off the game tiles, highlighting the glee in the girl’s eyes, the resigned agony in Joel’s smile.

Almost a whole year now she’s been coming out here with you, and it’s wondrous how much she’s grown inside and out. You never felt lonely at the Roost, in fact, you had always very much enjoyed the solitude. Now you don’t think you could abide it. It’s only a home for a week at a time, but only when they come out here with you now.

It’s a nice night. Stars are out. Ellie’s still staring out at them as you and Joel fall asleep in the big bed.

_____

It’s the scent of woodsmoke that wakes you in the middle of the night, sitting you up straight in bed. Or so you think, except that the embers in the stove are low, so it can’t be that. 

No. It’s a voice outside.

“Burn in hell, Joel Miller!”

Is that…Ellie? What’s she doing outside? No. Not Ellie. No it’s–

“Abby?” Ellie says blearily from the bunk above you.

There’s someone in the room moving swiftly toward you from the windows, hulking, with a rifle–

Joel.

“Get up. Both of you. Get out. The place is on fire.” 

It doesn’t register.

“What? What fire? Joel? What’s happening–”

He shakes your shoulder, pulling you from the bed. “Get Ellie out. Now!”

There’s no other thought, just fumbling in the dark as Ellie jumps down beside you and dives for her jacket, shoving her feet into her boots without doing up the laces while you reach out one hand to catch hers for when it comes to you. The other gropes the near table for the walkie and thumbs the button.

“Meadowlark to patrol. Meadowlark to Goldfinch. We’re in trouble, there’s a fire and–”

The whole cabin sways. A gunshot from the balcony. Joel growling over his shoulder. “Get out! Now!”

“Joel–!”

“NOW!”

The ladder is still sliding down into place when you jump on it and ride it part of the way down, still waking up as Ellie’s boots come fast, almost kicking you in the face as she follows you down the rungs two at a time, moving through a plume of choking blackness only to come out below it to a roaring bonfire that’s eating through the Roost’s supports.

Oh god. The Roost…

is burning….

“JOELLLLLL!” you scream up as your stocking feet hit the ground hard, as you catch Ellie and pull her off the ladder and stumble backward, as something hits your head hard and causes you to let go, as separate sets of arms grab each of yours and drag you roughly backward, fast enough to keep your feet from catching up until you’re on your knees.

There’s a crackle in the air– “Patrol to Meadowlark. What’s the trouble?” 

The walkie lies somewhere in the pine needles just out of reach and you’re screaming at it for help but all that comes out of your mouth is a string of names and no’s and helps. You’re able to yank your non-dominant arm free, pitching forward, clawing for the radio, until a flash of hard silver–a meteorite, exquisitely dense and smooth, malignant, swift, direct–cracks down on your forearm with a sickening thud, shattering the bone.

The world slides out of focus through a screen of sudden pain.

At first, you assume you’ve been shot in the arm. But then a figure steps around to your line of sight. Abby. With a golf club? What? Why? Where did she get that? The commissary? Why the fuck would they stock golf clubs? What the fuck is going on? 

And you watch as Abby picks up the walkie. Tosses it into the fire.

The hands are back upon you now, forcing you back to your knees, and a third set joins them, wrapping around your forehead and chin, pulling you back against a belly and you struggle.

Where’s Ellie.

You’re able to twist your head to one side despite being held. She’s there on the ground, face down, groaning, with Owen’s knee in her back.

“Ellie? Honey?”

One pair of hands holding you twists you hard, meaning to pull you further away from her without compliance from the other hands or consent from your muscle structure and there’s a sickening pop as your shoulder leaves its socket and then your scream drowns out everything even the roar of the fire.

“She keeps it in her pocket,” Abby says. Rooting into Ellie’s pocket, Owen finds the knife and pulls it out–the one she cherishes, imbued with the legend of her mother, given to her on the same day as her name, her life, and her orphanhood.

The day Ellie told you the story, you’d taken steel wool to the knife and cleaned it. Oiled the hinge. Shined it up good and pretty.

It flips open easily in Owen’s paw. It twirls swiftly around, and points downward, his fingers closing over the hilt, thumb curling over the butt of the handle to give it more leverage when he’s ready to bring it down.

The night is horribly black and lit along the edges in orange fire.

There’s a loud crack. Owen’s thigh explodes in a splatter of blood and he falls backward off Ellie, screaming. The hands around your head let go and Mel runs to him.

Joel stalks out of the plume of black smoke, cocking the rifle, pointing only long enough at Owen to confirm he’s down and then swinging the barrel around to Abby.

A stand off. No sound or movement but the whoosh of flames and a few ground-muffled cries from Owen, a few sniffles and shushes from Mel.

“Who the fuck are you,” Joel growls out over the steel barrel, his cheek quivering in barely hinged anger.

Abby stands, solid, unyielding, straight as the blonde braid hanging down her back, club wound up tight, ready for the pitch, a face full of lines and soot and destruction.

“The last survivors of the Firefly massacre. You didn’t think to check the rest of the compound? Like the whole team was just one-offs? Like none of them had family, you sick fuck? You fucking orphaned us. Left us to fend for ourselves. Go ahead and shoot, old man. Marlene always said you weren’t so good at keeping kids alive, actually surprised you got as far as you did. So go ahead. Not like we’ve got nothing to lose. We just came to return some favors and finish the job.”

It’s only in the moments later, before the dawn, when you’re laying on your back looking up at the stars, one arm laying broken and useless in the snow beside you, the other cradling a weeping Ellie Williams as tight as you can, that you’ll be able to slow the film of your memory and play out the next thirty seconds frame by frame.

The series of snaps and cracks as the support under the Roost gave way and the whole structure tumbled out and away from the scene, pulling several pines down with it, the crashing and burning the only sound you remember now.

Ellie trying to shuffle along the ground toward you and away from the fire.

Owen pulling himself up enough to raise the knife and bring it down into the meat of Ellie’s calf.

Owen’s body flying backward as a bullet ripped through his skull.

A wrench of your neck and the warm splash of blood from above you as another shot rang out, one person holding you falling away and back, gone, but still pulling you down with their dead body.

The roar of an angry Abby and the clank of a club shaft on a rifle barrel.

Another gunshot.

The sound of metal hitting flesh.

Thirty seconds. And now you can see the stars. Orion. The Milky Way.

Somehow you’re lying yards from the little patch of burning trees with Ellie cradled in your good arm. Someone dragged you here.

There are voices and flashlights. The patrol. Bear and Tommy. Goldie and Willa and Chickadee.

And Maria. Laying on the ground beside you, exhausted from the effort of dragging two humans out of the burning thatch of trees.

“Joel. Where’s Joel.” It hurts to speak. Breath comes fast and shallow.

Then he’s there with the others, a bruise blooming purple beneath his eye, saying only what scant words he needs to move past them and get to you. To Ellie. 

His hands are gentle, but his eyes are cold.

Two still, black pools reflecting fire.

_______

Perhaps unsurprisingly, you dream of Troy, his mangled face open and bleeding, laying in the hole next to Ash, mutilated, stopped at the moment of transformation into something more sinister, your ex-husband and his sister lost to you because they were headstrong, foolish, too devoted to each other….

Ash’s eyes open, what’s left of them anyway. “Abby’s afraid of heights. Didn’t even have time to tell her about the Roost being up on stilts. What’s a caboose?”

They didn’t know the Roost was elevated. They followed us out here and didn’t have a good plan. Is that it?

They don’t answer. They get up and climb out of the hole, turn their backs on your and walk into the forest. You call after them, desperate to have them back after all this time, begging them not to leave you.

But you’re calling after them wrong. You can’t seem to say Troy. You can’t say Ash.

You’re only calling out for Joel and Ellie.

_____

The next thing you know, you’re sitting up in the snow, leaning against Goldie, the girl patting at your cheek as you’re coming around. “Come on, come on back, baby.”

The sun’s up, but not high enough to breach the mountains circling the meadow. Everything’s still lit by the slowly dying flames.

The one two punch of Willa setting the bone and popping your shoulder back in must have sent you off. Looking down, you see you must have thrown up as well. 

“Holy shit,” you groan, “I’m sorry. Oh my god, holy shit that hurts.”

“I know, I know,” says Goldie, smoothing your hair and kissing your forehead. 

“Here,” says Willa, handing you some dark root. You forget what it’s called, you just know you gotta chew. “Don’t swallow,” she reminds you. “You ride with Goldie. She’ll keep you upright once that sets in.”

“I gotta get up,” you mumble, struggling to stand and inhaling sharply at the twinge of pain the movement brings to your bandaged and immobilized arm. Goldie’s able to help get you up, but seems hesitant to let you go. “Ain’t nothing wrong with my feet, lemme go. Where’s Ellie?”

But you don’t need to ask, she’s just behind you, laying on her back in the snow, one arm flung over her eyes, breathing heavy to manage the pain, leg bandaged and tourniqueted.

Good. Next priority. “Where’s Joel?”

Goldie points to the fire. It’s starting to die down, enough to make out the bodies of three teenagers consigned to the flames. Past them, the group of the regular patrol. Joel shaking his head at them, speaking. Jacket zipped up to the top, no scarf, no hat; probably got left behind in the Roost. Rifle over one shoulder. A backpack over the other.

But not his backpack. Why would he have someone else’s backpack? Why would he have one at all…

He’s…. No.

Pushing off Goldie, you immediately find out that walking is hard. Even if the pain’s just in one arm, everything’s connected, everything hurts; it’s disorienting. Your knees are bruised and even your soft sleep pants feel like sandpaper on them. Feet cold and wet, no boots…

Joel sees you struggling to get to him and walks away from the group and the fire, meeting you partway, catching your good arm as your fist falls hard on his shoulder and yanks, fingers digging in hard to his coat, doing your best to hold on tight, to keep him here, to convince him not to go.

“Don’t you dare, Joel Miller. What do you think you’re fucking doing???”

He says nothing, only lets you collapse onto his chest, to sob. There’s not even an arm to comfort you, he gives you nothing but the bare necessity, a wall to keep you standing, and you know nothing you say will make a difference. In essence, he’s already gone.

“Please. Joel. Don’t. Please don’t go.”

“Trail’s fresh. Best to get on before it snows and covers the tracks. One of them’s the pregnant girl. One of them’s bleedin’. They can’t get that far.”

“You don’t have to. Just come home.”

“They’ll just come back. Maybe not soon, but someday.”

He’s right. You know he’s right. Stepping back, it hurts to look at him. The Joel you love has been asked to step aside, the care and fondness he’s come to show you locked up somewhere secure, somewhere where it won’t get in the way. 

I warned you, this Joel seems to say, void of emotion, jaw set, brow even and low, hand on the strap of his rifle. You took me in knowing exactly what I am.

He’s right.

“I need you here, Joel. Ellie needs you here. Don’t you dare go…unless you can come back.”

“I need you here too. ‘S why I’m going.”

Nothing. No kiss goodbye, no waiting for approval, he just turns and walks. 

Maybe this is the last of it, just one last loose thread, then he can finally leave off wandering, finally shake off the killer and just come home, just be your Joel.

Convincing yourself of this is the only choice you’ve got.

________

You find yourself out on Maria’s back porch that night. Unable to sleep from the ache of the mending bone and the swell of your assaulted shoulder, it seemed like the best remedy was to find the toughest jerky in the kitchen, to sit on the porch in the cold and chew through the pain, and to lean back in one of the porch chairs with a soothing snowpack between it and your back.

The moonlight plays illusions like the canteen filmstrips–a summer image of Tommy and Joel teaching Ellie the mechanics of tackle football. The twinkle of the fireflies lending veritas to the picture…which in reality is only the twinkle of a dusting of new snow.

Not enough snow to make tracking impossible, but enough to make it difficult.

The back door opens and a blanket lands over your lap.

“Was gonna ask you if you wanted company, but then I decided, it’s my house and you don’t get a choice.”

Maria plops her own blanket in a nearby chair before disappearing and returning with two steaming mugs of tea as offering for the table between you. She takes her time covering you just so before wrapping herself up and joining you on the porch. “Suppose I should have asked if you want that cold pack changed before I get too comfortable,” she says, not really offering, but leaving the suggestion there between you if you need it.

It’s not necessary to talk for a while. She knows exactly what you’re thinking. Sees what you see.

“Did I wake you?”

“No. Riley did,” she lies. You’d heard her shift when you got up from the bed–her bed, well, hers and Tommy’s. But hers and yours for now.

“Thanks for taking care of us.”

“You say that like you’re not my family.”

“Well then, thanks for staying behind as if you are.” 

It’s hard to see her out of the corner of your eye, backed by dark shadows. But the moon plays little crescents on her face, the curve of her nose, her cheek, her chin. Her voice comes out velvet from the dark.

“I know you’re pissed at Joel for going, but he’s doing the right thing.”

Now you make the effort to turn, rotating more from the waist than the neck to save the injury from twinging, but it does anyway, mirroring your spike in irritation. “Really? You think so? Is that why you sent Tommy with him? After all that time you spent bemoaning the things Joel made Tommy do all those years ago–”

“This is different. This is about the greater good.”

“You know that’s what the villain always says, right?”

She presses her lips together, hating that you’re right. “Okay, so maybe not the greatest good for the morality of the remainder of the human race, but. For the good of Jackson.”

“Two grown men hunting down two teenage girls is the greater good.”

“They won’t be teens forever. They’ve both got reasons to come back for their revenge. And now they know where Jackson is. They get taken in by the wrong people, and then the wrong people will know where Jackson is too and when they come back they won’t be alone. They’ll know exactly how many and what kind of folk to bring.” She holds your gaze for a few seconds, steady and wise but also warning, her warmth only thinly veiling the matronly protectress behind it, like a Durga on her throne. “You know why we have patrols. You know what happens to people that get too close. Two more drops in the bucket is all.”

“Three. One of those little girls is pregnant.”

She has no answer to this. Rather, your dig brings no new argument to the table. It’s just words, just a fact on the wind. It doesn’t sway the needle one way or the other.

It’s exactly what you’d been thinking about, staring up at her bedroom ceiling. Then out here on the porch. It’s like she knew you needed to hear the justification out loud.

“They would have killed him, lady. And Ellie. And you. I’m surprised you don’t want them hunted down like dogs.”

You turn your attention to the back yard, the smallest hump of leaves under the big tree there not quite scattered to the wind, sparkling with snow cover. You can almost still hear Ellie’s high laughter as it sounded the day she experienced her first leaf pile.

“Oh, I want them run down,” you say. “I’m all for that, let ‘em eat lead. I just didn’t want…” It’s not really necessary to continue. Maria knows exactly what you want. She always does. That’s why she sent Tommy with him. To keep him tethered to humanity.

To the way Joel watched Ellie jump and disappear into a poof of leaves. The sun in his smile. At peace. At home. Free from the old violence. Reborn.

I just didn’t want Joel to be the one to do it.

______

Maria’s dinner table feels empty. Funny, you think, it was always the two of you. For a while there was four, what with Troy and Ash, but most of the time just the two. Then Tommy. Then Joel and Ellie. Now Riley…well, that is, if he’s still up during family dinner.

You’ve slept through most of the light of day and was hoping to talk to Ellie at dinner, but Maria’s been taking all her meals to the guest room for her. Mostly so she doesn’t have to walk down the stairs on her healing leg, but also because Ellie’s not been talking since that night.

And you can guess why. It has less to do with the injury and assault or the fire, and more about the truths she learned during them. 

Not much to do. The arm has to stay stable, strapped to your body. At least they fucked up the non-dominant one so you can still hold a fork, still brush your teeth. But knitting? Spinning? Helping Maria clear the dishes? Fat chance.

Not much to do but chew root, smoke wild weed, and sleep it off.

Maria reappears with a plate needs washing. “There’s a break in the clouds. I got three whole words out of her. This might be your chance.”

“Oh. Joy.” It’s getting to be less of an effort to stand now that you’ve got rest and food in you. The stairs are daunting only because of the conversation that waits at the top.

A knock on her door only grants you silence.

“I’m coming in, Starling girl. Best not be naked.”

No answer. You take that as the opposite of opposition. Tolerance.

She’s sitting on the bed, propped up by pillows behind her back and under her knee, her bandages freshly changed, no more blood pooling or free bleeding. She plays with the cuffs of her sweater, tugging at a loop in the knit, a book abandoned by her side as if she’d put it down when you knocked. A good sign. She doesn’t want to hide.

You crawl in beside her, awkwardly, one-handedly, a big showy sigh of relief when you finally land. “You know, if I was your mom, I’d probably start off with ‘what’cha reading there, kiddo?’ just to get you to say something, but I’m not your mom and I’m not here to make you talk if you don’t wanna–”

“Well I don’t.”

“Good. I didn’t come up here to hear you yap anyway.” You detect the tiniest twitch of her cheek, not quite a smile, perhaps a sneer…to scare away a smile. “Don’t talk, just listen.”

“I don’t wanna do that either.”

“Tough titties. I’m cashing in exchange for all the time I had to listen to you go on about Sally Fucking Ride.”

Now she does smile. Barely. Gives you the teenager face you wanna slap sometimes. “Tough titties? Really?”

“They didn’t have tough titties in the orphanage? Seems off-brand.” The smile fades. “Tell me how you’re healing. I’m not asking, I’m demanding.”

A big breath in. But the air doesn’t come rushing back with a dramatic sigh, just melts out of her with a single tear she doesn’t move to brush away.

So you do. “That bad, huh.”

“It fucking sucks. It fucking sucks so bad.”

“Heh, tell me about it. I miss the good old days of ibuprofen. Shit. I miss morphine. You’re young though, you’ll be up and running in a week or two. Me? I’m gonna be aching for–”

“He fucking lied through his teeth.”

Ah. There it is.

Now the colony of tears follows the first scout, pouring out over the plains of her cheeks until she covers her face with those cuffs she’s been picking at, relieved at being able to let it all out in front of someone who might understand, but probably scared as hell to let herself be this messed up in front of someone who might not. A gamble.

And a win. You’ve still got one good arm and you put it to good use, pulling her into your side. “Yeah, you’re right. He totally did. He’s a fucking asshole. Why the hell would he do that.”

“It wasn't time that did it,” she hiccups from under her woolen cuffs.

“I don’t know what that means, Starling” you say, unable to stop yourself from kissing the crown of her head.

She wipes her nose and comes up for air. “I mean I know why. But he fucking lied about everything. Straight to my face.”

“Well, you’ve got every right to demand an explanation and an apology when he comes back. Straight to his face.”

“If he comes back.”

You let that sit a moment between you. It’s her way of saying that she knows you’re mad at him too, that she heard the conversation you had with him when he left. It’s her way of poking at your own fears and getting you on her side.

“Those girls aren’t armed and the Miller boys have a lot more experience with being hunters than those kids do being prey. He’ll be back.”

“I hate him.”

“I know. But also. You don’t.”

“I had a… a purpose. A fucking purpose.”

“Well….I know you did, but…probably not so much as you think.” She looks up at you but you can’t meet her eye, she’s right to mourn, and you can’t deny her that. “Remember what I told you about my sister and her treatments?”

“The research hospital.”

“Yeah. Cancer’s been killing people on this earth far longer than cordyceps and they’d had millions of patients to test on. Still couldn’t crack it. How many people are immune like you? Because if it ain’t millions, you just become one part sample in a petri dish and another part dead body that maybe give some vague clues and then you’re all parts in the bin, end of story. I mean, I’ll be honest. I don’t blame him. You’re quite a keeper.”

Now her sigh is dramatic. “And then he fucking lied about it.”

“So you would feel good about it. Accomplished in your goal. Also so you wouldn’t hate him for caring about you more than you do.”

“Why didn’t he just say–?”

“Do you know that man to be good with words?”

This quiets her. Both of you. For a few minutes. She goes back to picking at her sleeves.

The sun’s set completely now and her little bedside lamp can’t even drown out the stars so bright on the other side of the window. Clear night. Cold out there.

After a moment you take your arm back, jostle her with your shoulder. “Hey. I’m going out to the Meadow tomorrow, check in with Willa, look over the damage. If I bring you back a piece of the Roost, you wanna do some carving or whittling or something? We’ll build a platform like the old one and it’s probably just gonna be a tent up there for a while like it used to be, but hopefully this spring or summer we’ll get a structure up there and we’ll need a cornerstone or a plaque or something signifying its importance. Since you’re on your ass all day with nothing better to do, and you’re the star recruit, I’d love for you to do it.”

Her lips twist, half smiling at the request, but then in regret. “I lost my knife.”

“The one from your mom?” She nods. “Well if you’ll do some carding for me while I’m out there, I promise to look for it, ask around, maybe one of the patrol picked it up, okay?”

“Okay. Oh. By the way…How are you healing?”

“I’ve been worse. But mostly I’ve been better. Thanks for asking. ‘S kind of you. But don’t you worry about me.”

“Okay. Um…I’m…sorry about telling them about the meadow and all.”

“Why? You’re a Roostling. It’s your story to tell.” Sliding off the bed you head for the door. “Oh hey. I meant to ask–” you nod at the book by her side. “What’cha reading?”

She doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh…just porn.”

“Cool. G’night.”

“‘Night. Hey Meadowlark?”

You poke your head back in before the door closes completely. “Hm?”

“Thanks. For all that. But mostly for not calling me kiddo.”

You smile. Nod. Give her a warm wink. “Sure. I gotchu, kiddo.”

It’s worth the eyeroll you catch as you close the door.

________

The most sickening part of coming in through the north passage isn’t seeing the burn scar on the pine grove in the middle of the Meadow, isn’t missing the outline of the Roost through the trees, but rather the feeling that your home has been breached, that for a moment it wasn’t safe and now you’ll always wonder if it will be.

Riding across the north plain, you close your eyes and breathe, let the horse plod on without your guidance, he knows the way. Once spring comes and the valley fills with flowers and the music of the lambs calling for their ewes takes over from this cold silence that comfort will be renewed. 

But for now, there is no comfort on the Meadow in winter, not without a pretty little fireplace and a warm spot to watch the snow build up on the mountains.

You know what’s coming, but it turns your heart inside out all the same when you open your eyes.

Where once there was a cabin in the treetops is now a void leading downward to a pile of blackened rubble and debris. Off to the side under some lower trees is the old canvas tent with the vent hole and a friendly little trail of smoke rising from it. Willa always knew her way around a fire and didn’t mind keeping a low one going on the inside. You never were that confident, even with a fire-treated tarp.

She’s been at work out here, pulling useful things out of the rubble. The woodstove. The pulley jacks. A few timbers that are mostly unburned. 

But there’s a pile of other things too, useless items that shouldn’t be mixed back in with the earth: a burned walkie. Twisted silverware and blackened plates. The iron tools from the rafters. Shattered tile. Your charred and mangled boots.

All that’s left in the major wreckage is wood. And glass. And bones.

Three blackened skulls, three sets of eye sockets and three jaws gaping up at the sky as if they were caught in the moment of realizing their plans were going terribly awry. 

Stupid fucking kids. ….Just kids.

If someone asked you how you knew which one was Owen’s, you wouldn’t be able to say. You just know. The memory of him sinking that knife into Ellie’s leg…of hurting her…intent to kill… His skull breaks like a cracker when you put your weight on it.

Willa doesn’t say anything when she comes up along side to stare down at the bones with you. It's not the first time you've stood with her at the edge of a burned down home.

"I hate that it’s gonna take me a while to sift though all this,” you say.

“We’ve decided to skip your turn for a while. At least until there’s a new platform.”

You nod, resigned. You don’t love it, but it’s best. Trauma lingers longest of all hurt. 

“How’s the flock?”

“They’re over it.”

“Figures. Fluffy shits. Any chance you found a pocket knife out here?” You ask her.

She nods, reaches into a jacket pocket and there it is, like it’s been waiting to come back to its keeper, made itself shiny and easily found. It’s passed between you like a sacred object, holy, a relic saved and cared for, a thing infused with deep love and meaning. There’s an instant relief as your fingers curl around it, your shoulders relaxing and releasing a little of the pain.

“Thank you.”

“There was this too.” From the same pocket Willa pulls a disk of silver and glass, turning it over and placing it in your hand with the knife.

The watchband is burned away. But it’s otherwise unharmed.

Willa may be a stoic, but she knows enough to recognize a release through tears and to hold you while you cry.

Later that afternoon when you knock on Ellie’s door, you’ll hand her the knife and a piece of the old Roost to carve to consecrate the new one. And then you’ll give her the watch and ask her to be your hands, to help you with one more thing.

________

Two days later, you’re standing in Joel’s living room, never having been here when it’s so quiet, dark, and cold. With you and Ellie staying with Maria, there’s been nobody here to light a fire, to make the place live. You wouldn’t be here if Maria hadn’t made a side comment about maybe you and Ellie’d been in the same clothes for a day too many. Not that you thought you’d be with her that long.

She was right. It was nice to change into something clean–a soft fleece and some sleep pants. While the sword of Damocles kept things in check at Maria’s house, it did feel just this side of an extended girl’s night sleepover, might as well dress for it. Ellie had asked for something soft and comfy so you decided to go for it, an assortment of sweats and sweaters in the duffel at your feet.

What you’re eyeing at the moment is an empty hook on the wall by the fireplace.

You put your hand in your jacket pocket and pull out the watch.

Ellie did a beautiful job with it, took directions like a champ. Sitting together on her bed, listening to Joan Jett and Pat Benetar, you’d instructed her how to design the plaid stripes into the strap, how to knot and plait in patterns.

“Macrame. MACrame. Mac. Ra. Mayyyyyy,” Ellie’d chanted. “It’s a fun word to say. What’s it mean?”

“Fringe. Knotting. It’s just the name of the technique. I dunno. Probably something prettier in French.”

The strap clasps had been lost in the fire, so you’d had Ellie work him a new strap out of dyed and tightly-spun wool, something a little longer so he could tie it on. Most likely he’d come back here first, so you want to put it somewhere he’d see it, that way he could have it again without a lot of fuss but knowing at the same time you were thinking of him. So you slip the end loop over the hook, gently let it slip through your fingers and rest against the wall.

If he comes back…

The front door opens. Boots on the wood. The thump of a backpack.

By the time you’ve turned, he’s coming in through the front hall.

When he sees you standing here, he stops.

You never imagined this moment. You should have. It might have prepared you for the yellowing bruise on his face, the majority of his left pant leg browned with dried blood, his knuckles raw and just beginning to heal over.

You struggle with finding the right question. Find ‘em? They dead? Finish the job? No survivors?

I’d ask you what the hell you did, but I know and I don’t wanna hear you say it.

Instead all you can muster is a nod at the blood on his jeans.

His eyes slide to the staircase, already looking to move on, and he only answers with a short and shallow nod of his own before doing just that.

You find yourself sitting on the couch, staring at your hands, the duffel, the watch, back at your hands. Listening as he moves around upstairs, dropping boots, his belt buckle clapping to the floor. The shower running for a long, long time.

Sun’s going down. Getting colder.

The squeaks from the staircase are slow, softer than usual. He’s taking his time coming down. Doesn’t want to force himself back into a space so safe and quiet after pushing through one so big and mean.

He barely shifts the couch as he sits on the far side. Clean shirt. Clean jeans. A pair of socks you knit him.

“Where’s Ellie?” He sounds like he hasn’t spoken to anyone in days. You’d wager he hasn’t.

“With Maria. We’ve been staying there. I was just getting us some clothes. Didn’t think you’d be gone this long.”

“Neither did I. They had a head start. Younger. Faster. But you’re safe now. You’re both safe now.” He’s quiet long enough for the house to give a settling creak as the wind picks up outside. “How’s that arm?”

“Joel, you can’t keep us safe from the world. The world is what it is.”

“The fuck I can’t,” he whispers back, defiant, stubborn, with enough venom that he seems to scare himself and he breathes in deep, keeps it, holding back.

All you want is your Joel back. Even in all this mess. All you want is for him to lay down his fear and love you the right way. 

So instead of arguing, you get up and stand before him, give him the time it takes to understand you’re going to straddle his lap whether he helps you or not. He reaches for you on your way down, guides and supports you, allows you to rake through his wet curls before leaning in to take possession of his lips, to will him–by kissing through to his very soul–to come back to you.

He can’t help but respond, his whole body coming to life, and in the cold, twilit living room, you become a tangle of silhouettes as his hand pushes up under your sweater–somehow still keeping an aura of care around your ruined and wrapped arm–to squeeze almost painfully at your curves, rough and wanting, panting between devouring kisses as he paws beyond the waistband of your sleep pants, sucking at your neck when you throw your head back as he reaches what he was searching for….what you hoped he’d find…

There’s a tousle of repositioning and a clatter of belt and zipper. You’re both raw and rough and needy, and you both take advantage of the emptiness of the house to fill it with the sounds of desperation, of effort, the song of casting off of all inhibition, a duet of total and grateful release. 

But through it all, it’s the way he holds onto you that tells you how much he wanted to get back to you, how close he intends to hold you and never let you go, a desperation that tells you exactly where his faults lay…

…that it was necessary–and always will be–to eliminate any chance of someone taking you from his world by force.

It’s not so much possession as a fierce and burning need to be possessed. A need to belong, concentrated down to its basest form.

“I’m sorry,” he says as he softly kisses your temple, spooning you in the afterglow that burns bright in the darkening room.

“For what? You didn’t hurt me.”

“Rushed it a little. Tend to act before thinkin’ sometimes.”

You’re not completely sure what he means by that. At first you think he’s talking about the rough sex, but you get his meaning. Stalking off after Abby and Mel so impulsively. For being impulsive in general.

For acting out of trauma.

Or love.

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to for that, Joel.”

You can tell the moment he understands when his forehead gently meets your shoulder. “Shit.”

It’s probably the best time to break it to him, while he’s still a little softheaded and euphoric. “She’s ready to listen. But I won’t promise it’ll be easy. It might just be you and me here for a while.”

Once his breathing evens out, he shifts, still holding onto you, but just coming back down, settling back in.

“What’s that?” He mutters, just on this side of falling asleep, lazily pointing at the watch on the hook by the fireplace.

“Your Valentine’s Day present. From both of us. Sorry it’s late.”

________

Taking some shifts off from the Meadow rotation affords you time to start slowly moving things over to the new A-frame, Maria helping you to load up a skid now and then and unload it, walking beside you as you lead the horse that tows it.

After a week or two, Ellie’s up and walking–well, limping, but healing–and starting to talk to Joel at dinner again. She’s on the verge of actually gracing his bad jokes with a smile or even a laugh, but she’s making him work hard for it. Good for her.

You haven’t asked either of them how the talk went. Don’t know if you ever will. That’s between them, the less you interfere, the better.

But you know that things are on the mend when you find Ellie playing Joel’s guitar–learning some Johnny Cash song you know he loves.

And you have a feeling that spring is on the way when you drop off another load at the new house and find a new frame on the wall–a handmade, custom carpentry display shadowbox.

With a watch hanging inside.

_______

PREVIOUS: AUTUMN

NEXT: SPRING AGAIN (coming soon)

MASTERLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

[justagalwhowrites]

Halcyon - Ch. 12: It Doesn’t Need to Mean Anything

You and Joel take Sarah to the concert. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 11, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Joel and Goldie are still morons. Also... mild smut 🫠 Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 10.7K (no one look at me)

A/N: So much thanks to my beautiful bestie @dundienominee, official Swiftie Consultant for this chapter. She was integral to song selection and Eras Tour outfit choices because I am too casual of a fan to have the knowledge to do that well. Thank you thank you thank you for this and for always letting me bounce the angstiest shit off you, Bestie! Love you!!

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

You stopped sleeping over at Joel’s. 

The distance took more adjustment than you’d expected and it wasn’t something either of you had explicitly stated, it just felt… necessary. You were getting too close to Joel - not something you would have even considered possible, once upon a time - and you needed to pull back before you ended up wounded and alone like you’d been more than a decade earlier. 

He began separating from you that night, when his hand was still holding your face and your body was still tight against his. You kissed him until he pulled away - not wanting it to end - and when he finally broke the kiss, your faces stayed close together for a moment, close enough that your noses touched and you could see the reflection from the sparks of the fireworks in his eyes. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest, the heat of his palm at the small of your back, the roughness of the callus under his fingers at the nape of your neck. If someone had asked you, in that moment, where you were, you couldn’t have told them. 

And then a gunshot cracked through the air, making the both of you jump and shock away from each other. 

“Fuckin’ assholes,” Joel snapped, looking around as though there was anyone else around you at the water’s edge to blame. “Shit’s dangerous and there are still idiots who decide to shoot guns in the air just because the goddamn calendar changed, fuckin’ morons…” 

There were a few feet between you now and you were suddenly very aware of the fact that you were in pajama pants and a long sleeved t-shirt and your nipples were pricked from the cold and the kiss and probably visible through the thin cotton. You crossed your arms over your chest, hoping Joel hadn’t noticed. 

“At least we’re in the middle of nowhere,” you said. “Less chance of the bullet falling on a person…” 

“Still,” he muttered, crossing his arms too. “Makes me nervous. Dumbasses like that should have their guns taken away, don’t act right…” 

You tightened your jaw but nodded, still watching him. 

“Sorry,” he said. You weren’t sure why. “We should probably get back inside, though. Gotta get the kid to bed, she’s cranky if she don’t get enough sleep….” 

“Can’t have a cranky Sarah,” you smiled a little. 

Joel looked at you for a moment and, for a delusional second, you half expected him to kiss you again. Then, he shoved his hands in the pockets of his flannel pants and rocked back on his heels once before starting up the hill toward the house. For the first few steps, he walked to the side almost as much as he did forward, until there was a good five feet between the two of you. You ignored the pang of hurt inside your chest and gave him a tight smile as he held the back door open for you, finding Tommy and Sarah on their feet and yelling at the TV as they raced in Mario Kart. 

He sat as far from you as he could at breakfast the next morning, taking the spot beside Sarah and across from Tommy at the kitchen table and pressing himself against the wall in the hallway when you ran into him there and needed past, making sure your body didn’t so much as brush against his the rest of the holiday weekend. 

When you went back to normal life, it reminded you of the few days after Joel had accidentally seen your shirtless selfie: radio silence. 

This time, you refused to crack first. If he regretting kissing you, that was on him. It wasn’t like you’d begged him to. Hell, you hadn’t even asked him to. He’d offered - after kissing you out of the blue just the day before no less - and now he couldn’t even look at you. Or text you, apparently. 

But you were starting to get a few steps beyond anxious when you still hadn’t heard from him by Friday afternoon. You hadn’t spent a weekend without Joel since you’d found each other again. You weren’t really sure what to do with yourself if you weren’t with Joel. Even though there was definitely a book you should be writing, doing that when you weren’t sure where you stood with your best friend seemed impossible. 

Still determined to not be the first one to reach out but not willing to face the prospect of being alone in your house with your cat - and with the temptation to call your almost ex-husband who actually had texted you since you’d last seen him - you got on Tinder. 

You swiped during a break between classes after triple checking that your age parameters wouldn’t catch any students, largely striking out until you found Stephen’s profile. He was a professor, too, but at Austin Community College. There was a picture of him in Napa Valley in his profile and one of him with a little girl (one he said was his niece) sitting on his shoulders. You smiled at that. You didn’t think you’d ever have children - though, really, you wanted some - but there was something about knowing a man was good with kids… 

You swiped right and got the alert that it was a match. He’d already swiped on you. Your heart sped up a little. Maybe you weren’t completely undatable, after all. 

Stephen messaged you just a few minutes later. 

Hi! How’s your Friday? 

You were working on typing a reply when another message popped up. 

Not to be a creep but… are you really who you say you are? 

You frowned at your phone for a moment. 

Hi back! It’s alright for the first Friday of a new semester. How about you? And yes, the last time I checked. Why?

It took him a little longer to respond that time. 

Let me know if I’m failing on the creep front but I may be what you call a fan. 

You laughed once. 

A fan? 

A fan. Your writing is brilliant, I can’t help it. 

Well, I have good editors. 

I’m sure you do but editors only get you so far. Trust me, I teach the intro English classes, I know. 

You laughed again and the two of you messaged back and forth until you had to go teach your last class of the day. When you finished, you checked your phone before leaving the lecture hall and there was a message waiting for you. 

I hope this isn’t too fast but can I take you out tomorrow? I’m sure you already have plans but on the off chance you don’t… 

You smiled. 

No plans that don’t involve my cat. What did you have in mind? 

Stephen, as it happened, had plenty in mind.

After getting a drink and chatting for a bit, he took you to salsa dancing night, something you’d never had thought to do yourself in a million years. The music was loud, the room was crowded and the energy of it all made your skin pebble as you smiled. 

“C’mon,” he held his hand out to you. “Let’s dance.” 

“Oh, no,” you waved him off. “I can’t.” 

“I’ll show you,” he smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” 

He led you to a quiet corner of the dance floor and showed you the most basic steps and you let him guide you through it as you watched your feet and tried not to step on his toes. By the end, you were laughing so hard you couldn’t breathe and he was laughing, too, putting an arm around your shoulders and guiding you to a booth in the corner. 

Stephen got you a cocktail and settled in across from you, the two of you talking about the semester so far and books and your favorite places to travel. 

You were surprised to find that you were having… well, fun. You hadn’t really had fun out with someone who wasn’t Joel in so long the concept seemed almost foreign to you. And Stephen was smart, you had shared interests, he was sweet and funny and insightful. You liked him. 

But… he wasn’t Joel. 

That was the thought you were trying to shake when he left you alone at the table, excusing himself to the bathroom and to grab another round of drinks and you decided to check your phone. 

Gale had texted you, seeing if you wanted to get coffee. Like the last few texts he’d sent, you didn’t respond. You knew, if you did, you’d end up back in his bed and you’d never be able to move on from him, not really. Hell, you’d let yourself become the other woman while he carried on with your younger, prettier, thinner replacement, keeping her on his arm at every faculty event and book release he used to bring you to while fucking you on the side. A mistress to your own husband. Pathetic.

But the temptation to respond was still there. If there was one man besides Joel who’d been able to hold your attention, it was Gale. When you’d met him, you hadn’t been sure you’d ever recover from loving Joel. It seemed like he would be there, as some part of you, forever. And that was true, he never really left. It was more that you seemed to find room inside yourself to love someone who wasn’t Joel. You realized now that it hadn’t been able to love him as much as you did Joel - or even, really, in the same way - but you did love him. That, now that you were faced with the intensity of how Joel seemed to take hold of you, seemed miraculous. You didn’t expect to find that feeling again so easily.

You looked toward the bathrooms, where you knew Stephen had disappeared to. Stephen, the man who you had every reason to have feelings for, who had taken you out for a great date, who could be someone that could pull you out of this hideous pattern with Joel and Gale if you just gave him the chance. 

You sighed and closed your texts just as a new one came through, this one from Joel. 

Your heart stuttered. You hadn’t heard from him in so long that just seeing his name hit you hard. You glanced up. Stephen was just coming out of the men’s room and heading for the bar. 

You opened the text. 

This radio silence shit sucks. 

You scoffed a little. 

You started it. 

He responded immediately. 

You at home? Come over. Sarah’s about to go to bed, we can watch the next Curtis and Viper commentary in the marathon. 

Sorry, I can’t tonight. 

You looked up to the bar again, Stephen still waiting to talk to the bartender. By the time you looked back down at your phone, Joel had texted back. 

Why not? Puck will behave for a few hours, promise. 

You frowned. 

Believe it or not, I’m not home with my cat on a Saturday night. 

Bullshit.

Is not. I’m on a date, actually. I do have a life outside of you, you know. 

Stephen was just getting to the bar to order when your phone screen lit up, Joel sticking his tongue out at you taking over the whole of it as he called you. 

You sighed and answered it. 

“Hi.” 

“Who the fuck are you on a date with?” Joel demanded. “It had better not be fucking Brad…” 

“So good to hear from you,” you said. “How have you been for the past, I don’t know, WEEK.” 

“Five days. Answer the question, Goldie,” he said. “Are you out with your goddamn husband?” 

“No,” you rolled your eyes even though he couldn’t see you. “I’m out with a guy named Stephen, he’s very nice actually…” 

“Who the fuck is Stephen?” 

“I met him on Tinder, thank you very much,” you said. 

“What?” Joel said and you could picture him leaning forward on his couch, his elbow on his knee. “Wait, when? I didn’t vet some fucker named Stephen…” 

“You don’t get to vet people when you don’t talk to me for a week,” you hissed into the phone, glancing at the bar to see Stephen paying for the drinks. “Besides, I don’t need you to review my damn dates like some kind of baby sitter…” 

“Five days. And you have shit taste in men,” he cut you off. “So yeah, you do.” 

“Yeah, well, when you ghost me…” 

“I didn’t fuckin’ ghost you!” 

“When you GHOST me for a week…” 

“Five days!” 

“…you don’t get to judge me for my life choices!” 

“I didn’t ghost you,” he snapped. “I thought we could both use a little space…” 

“Uh huh.” 

“And I didn’t think you’d do something stupid when I left you unsupervised for 30 goddamn seconds!” 

“OK this isn’t stupid,” you said. “He’s a nice guy, he’s an English professor who likes wine and has actually asked me questions about myself…” 

“Look at you go.” 

“Fuck off,” you said, watching as Stephen headed back to the table with drinks. “He’s coming back, I have to go.” 

“No, hold on…” 

“Bye!” 

You hung up and slapped the phone face down on the table with a little too much force as Stephen smiled, setting your cocktail in front of you. 

“If that’s a friend calling to get you out of this, I promise I won’t give you a hard time,” he said, a slightly teasing edge to his voice. 

“No,” you laughed. “Well, I mean, it is a friend but no, not calling to get me out of it. Just a friend with a history of just the worst timing and a total inability to read the room.”

“She sounds great,” he laughed back. 

You didn’t correct him on the gender, instead just laughing with him and taking a sip of your drink.

The two of you closed the bar down and went to Waffle House after, sitting on opposite sides of the booth so you could stretch out and put your feet up as you pushed your syrup soaked chocolate chip waffle around on your plate. 

“So,” you said as you watched Stephen from across the table. “Not to put a damper on things but… I feel like you should know that I’m not looking for anything too serious right now…” 

“Oh,” Stephen frowned a little. “Can… Can I ask why?” 

“My life is kind of complicated at the moment?” You said it more like a question, as though the difficulties were somehow negotiable. “My divorce isn’t finalized yet, my sister is pregnant and I’m her only support system, I have a book deadline later this year…” I can’t stop thinking about kissing my best friend. You didn’t say that. “I don’t feel like I can really be a great partner to anyone right now. But I would like someone I can have fun with when I can? If you’re OK with that?” 

He nodded slowly, looking at his mug of coffee for a moment. 

“Do you know how long it’s going to be complicated?” He asked. “Just… Cards on the table, I already really like you. I don’t want to get in over my head here.” 

“Another few months at least,” you said. “But not forever. At least, I hope not forever.” 

He nodded again, turning his mug slowly on the table and you watched as the handle went back and forth. 

“I can handle a few months,” he said eventually, looking over at you. 

You smiled a little, wishing that him saying that made your heart pick up the way it did when Joel touched you. 

“Good,” you said. “Me too.” 

When the two of you left the restaurant, he went to kiss you goodbye but you dodged it, kissing him on the cheek instead. By the time you were home, you had a flurry of texts from Joel, the last one demanding to know when you made it home safely. 

I’m home, you control freak. 

It was so late you didn’t expect a response but one came through anyway as you stood at your bathroom sink taking off your makeup. 

Glad you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere. 

Why are you still up? Go to BED! 

I can’t sleep if I know you’re out there with some random! 

You rolled your eyes. 

Well now that you know no one has stuffed me in the trunk of their car… 

I’ll try to care less in the future. 

“Jesus,” you muttered to yourself as Joel texted again. 

Lunch tomorrow? 

Tomorrow Sunday or tomorrow Monday? You wrote. It’s after midnight.

Lunch Sunday, he said stop being a dick.

You laughed a little at that. At least things weren’t that different, even if you wished they were. 

Lunch the next day felt normal, even as Joel demanded to see Stephen’s Tinder profile and look at some of his messages. Most things went back to normal after that, too. Everything except for the sleepovers. 

But now that you were getting ready to leave for Dallas for the concert, you were nervous. You had one hotel room, a small suite the two of you had picked out together, one with two beds in the bedroom and a pull out sofa in the living room. When you were booking the trip, it made sense. Sarah could sleep in a bed with either of you or in the living room on her own and either way, you and Joel wouldn’t be beholden to the bedtime of an 11-year-old. It’s not like you needed space from each other then. 

Now, things felt different. It had been three months since you’d last shared a room with Joel. The casual intimacy that had existed between you had evaporated like mist and you wondered if it had always been a causal, ephemeral thing even when it had felt so grounding. 

At least, you thought, you’d have the separate beds. You’d booked the room before sharing a bed was quite so commonplace in your friendship. At least you wouldn’t need to be quite that close to him knowing how he felt about it. That was a comfort. 

And you were looking forward to some distance from your sister. Now that she was getting closer to her due date, you were together all the time. From lamaze classes to parenting seminars to going with her to AA and NA meetings as moral support, you were with Anna more now than you had been since the two of you were girls and it was summer vacation and you had nothing else to do. 

“I swear to God that one old mom thinks we’re a couple,” she snickered as the two of you got pancakes after a lamaze class one day. 

“What?” You gaped at her. “Ew!” 

“Oh, for sure,” she said, reaching over and stealing a piece of bacon off your plate. You glared at her and she shrugged. “What? I’m eating for two.” 

“Uh huh.” 

“But she definitely thinks we’re lesbians,” she continued. “She was giving me the stink eye before you came in today. I think she thinks you’re the scary one, by the way, because she definitely stopped when you got there.” 

“Jesus,” you shuddered. “Wrong on so many levels. One, you’re my baby sister and that’s just gross. Two, you are definitely the scary one.” 

“Oh, for sure,” Anna nodded seriously and then laughed. “Besides, if you were my girlfriend I definitely wouldn’t be letting you run off with some old flame for the weekend…” 

“Joel is not an old flame,” you rolled your eyes. 

“Sure,” she said in a teasing tone. “And Stephen is fine with this?” 

“Stephen doesn’t get a say in what I do,” you replied. “We’re just seeing each other now and then, he’s not my boyfriend.” 

“Whatever you say,” she said, giving you a look that you weren’t sure you wanted to deal with. 

You hadn’t told her about the kiss with Joel. You hadn’t told her about losing your virginity to Joel before you left for college, either. But somehow, she seemed to know. Your sister, for all the distance you’d forced and all the troubles she’d had, just knew. 

And that made you more nervous than you should have been for spending the weekend away. 

But you packed a bag - featuring a costume for the concert picked from your closet by Sarah - and headed for Joel’s, Puck in his little cat carrier on your passenger seat. 

“Aunt Goldie!” Sarah rocketed out of the house, her curls flying as she ran for your car. “It’s here! We’re really going!” 

“We are!” You said with a laugh, catching her as she threw herself at you. Joel followed behind her, getting your duffle from the back seat. 

“Did you remember your outfit?” She asked, pulling back and looking up at you with wide eyes. 

“I absolutely did,” you smiled at her before looking at her dad. “Hey Joel.” 

“Goldie,” he gave you a nod. “You ready for this?” 

“For a road trip with my favorite kid?” You asked. “Absolutely.” 

You got Puck settled at Joel’s - his neighbors, the Adlers, promising to look in on both cats while you were away - and got loaded into Joel’s truck, a bag of snacks and cooler of drinks sitting next to Sarah in the back seat. 

“We’re listening from the start of the discography,” she said, leaning forward and grabbing the input for her phone. “We need to make sure we know all the eras before we get there.” 

Joel looked like he was trying not to laugh. 

“Whatever you say, baby girl.” 

It was easy to fall into life with Sarah and Joel, even just for the few hours in the truck. Sarah dramatically performing into an imaginary microphone in the back seat, Joel reminding her to buckle back in every time she undid her seatbelt for a particularly big dance move. You stopped in West for pastries and chocolate milk and, by the time you pulled into the hotel on Friday evening, the three of you were a little hopped up on sugar and in desperate need of real food. 

“Oh this place is fancy,” Sarah said, a mocking and overwrought English accent on the last word as you looked around the lobby. 

“Well, needed a room with space for the three of us…” Joel said, voice trailing off as he looked for the check in counter before spotting it. “Don’t go wanderin’ off, alright? I’ll get us checked in, we can drop the bags and figure out something besides junk for dinner…” 

“But I like junk” Sarah said. 

“Yeah, I know you do,” he said before looking to you. “Keep her out of trouble, will you?” 

“Bold of you to assume she’d be the problem.” 

“Knew you’d be trouble,” he smirked a little before going to get in the check in line. 

You stuck close to Sarah, who was using the short wall of the lobby garden as a balance beam as she worked out the pent up energy from the hours spent in the car. 

“How many songs do you think she’ll sing?” Sarah asked after the spun on the end of the wall, her sneakers squeaking on the polished stone. 

“I dunno,” you said. “Probably a lot since the concert is a few hours long.” 

“I don’t want to see spoilers but my friends keep sending videos,” she said. “I haven’t watched any of them, I want to see it all in person.” 

She did a jump like she was imitating a gymnast, making you instinctively reach for her, trying to hide your hiss of fear as she landed smoothly on the narrow wall. She looked at your worried expression and laughed. 

“Please be careful,” you said as she started walking the wall again. “If you get yourself killed I’ll have to go through the hassle of selling these tickets online…” 

Sarah snorted. 

“You’d miss me,” she said, teasing. 

“That too,” you smiled a little before looking toward the check in counter. Joel was at the front now but he looked to be in deep conversation with the man behind the desk. You frowned. “Stay put, kiddo.” 

“Keep jumping on the wall, got it.” 

You shot Sarah a glare before heading for the desk. 

“No, that’s not going to work,” Joel was saying. “I booked the room I booked for a reason, I need two beds…” 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Miller,” the man said. “I’m afraid we’re completely full this weekend and this is the only room I can put you in…” 

“What’s happening?” You asked, eyebrows knitting together and looking between them. 

“They don’t have the room we picked,” Joel said, eyes darting quickly to you, almost like he was afraid to look at you. “They only have rooms with one bed…” 

“Wait, what?” You looked at the man behind the counter. “Seriously? We have a confirmation number, we…” 

“I know, and I apologize,” he said. “With the concerts, we’re booked solid this weekend and there must have been a mixup with an earlier check in. I can’t move someone who’s already checked in. I already looked at our sister property across town but they’re completely full, too…” 

Joel looked at you, his eyes a little wider than you were used to seeing them. Almost like he was going to panic at just the thought of sharing a bed with you. 

“We can make it work, right?” You said, watching him. “I mean… it’s not that bad, is it?” 

“Right,” Joel said. “Yeah, you’re right…” 

He turned back to the man. 

“I guess we’ll take it,” he said. “Three keys, please.” 

Your stomach knotted a little. You knew the situation was less than ideal, that the two of you had been actively avoiding that level of contact in the months since the new year, but it’s not as though you’d never shared a bed. Was kissing you really so bad that Joel was on the verge of a panic at the thought of sleeping next to you for two nights? 

Maybe it was. Maybe you hadn’t fully understood his level of disgust at it.

You weren’t stupid, after all. You knew what he thought about kissing you. And if you hadn’t already known, you knew for sure when you overheard him talking to Tommy about it. 

“It was a mistake,” he’d said when he thought you couldn’t hear. “It won’t happen again, I’m done doing stupid shit with her and then regretting it…” 

Being close to you - touching you - was stupid shit. Even under the guise of friendship it was stupid shit. That had stung. 

It shouldn’t have.

You’d known he felt that way, you had for years. It shouldn’t have made your chest tighten and your stomach turn the way it did. He’d made it clear - since the first time the two of you had ever done anything physical - that it was a mistake. You weren’t about to risk losing him by pressing it, no matter how much you wanted to scream that he was the one who kissed you, not the other way around.

But, you supposed, it didn’t really matter. If he didn’t want you that close to him, you weren’t about to force it on him. He was still happy enough to be your friend, even if he didn’t want to sleep next to you anymore. That was fine. You could live with that. And you could share a bed with him for a weekend without blurring that line again. 

Joel got the keys and you got Sarah from her makeshift balance beam before heading up to the room. He shifted his weight awkwardly from foot to foot on the elevator ride up and you tried to keep from grinding your teeth as Sarah bounced eagerly on the balls of her feet, shooting off like a rocket the second the doors opened. 

“Room 1521!” Joel called after her as she took off down the hall. “Jesus, I swear that kid has the energy to power a small city…” 

She beat you there and Joel handed her a key and Sarah did the honors of letting you into the room. 

“Oh cool!” She squealed, running in. “I get the couch bed right?” 

“Uh…” Joel’s eyes darted to you. 

“There’s a TV by it!” She ran to it. “Oh and the fridge is in this room! This one’s mine!” 

You just shrugged at him and he sighed. 

“Sure is, baby girl,” he said. “You wanna get changed before we go get something to eat?” 

“Nope!” She said, kicking off her shoes and jumping from couch cushion to couch cushion. “But if we get back early enough, can we go swimming?” 

“Sure,” Joel said. “Give me n’Goldie a minute and we’ll head out…” 

You gave Joel a tight smile and led the way to the bedroom. 

The bed, at least, was a king sized one, bigger than yours or Joel’s at home. You could keep to your separate sides of it well enough. 

“I’ll take the side by the door,” he said. You were about to protest - that was the right side of the bed and he always slept on the left - but kept your mouth shut. You didn’t have a side of the bed with Joel. Or, you shouldn’t, anyway. “Did you need to change?” 

“Just out of these leggings,” you said. “I only need a minute.” 

“Right,” he said. “I gotta use the bathroom anyway, so…” 

He stood there, awkward, for a moment before heading to the attached bathroom. You set your bag on the long, low dresser and unzipped it, rifling around for a moment until you found your jeans. You peeled off your leggings and folded them up, setting them beside your bag when your phone started vibrating in your jacket pocket. 

You frowned. You almost never got phone calls. You pulled your phone out and saw Anna’s ID picture and you answered quickly. 

“Anna?” You said, heart racing. “Is everything OK? Are you OK? Is the baby OK?” 

“What?” She asked. “Yeah, everything’s fine, why wouldn’t it be?” 

You relaxed a little. 

“You just don’t usually call,” you said. “What’s up?” 

“Oh,” she laughed. “Yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean freak you out. I just got an email from the OBGYN, they need to move my scan next week, can you do Wednesday afternoon?” 

“Is Thursday an option?” You asked. “I have more afternoon classes on Wednesdays…” 

“You decent?” Joel called from the other side of the bathroom door. 

“Looks like they have Thursday,” Anna said. 

“Hang on!” You called to Joel, still standing there in your pale pink satin panties, before turning your attention back to Anna. “Thursday is better, just let me know a time and I can adjust some office hours.” 

“Great!” She said. “I’ll text you the details. Have fun at the concert!” 

You were about to say your goodbyes when the bathroom door opened and, suddenly, you were standing there in your underwear in front of your best friend. 

The two of you just stared at each other for a moment, Joel’s eyes wide and ranging over you as you stood, frozen with your phone clutched to the side of your head. 

“Sorry!” Joel said quickly, turning around as you scrambled to hang up the phone and cover yourself. 

“I said hang on!” You said, grabbing your jeans. Joel glanced back over his shoulder before whipping his head back around. 

“I thought you said come on!” He said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…” 

“It’s fine,” you said, jumping into the pants as quickly as you could, trying to wrestle the denim quickly over the swell of your ass before buttoning them. “There, you’re safe.” 

“Sorry,” he said again, turning around cautiously. As though you were a grenade that might explode if he caught a glimpse of your bared skin. “I wasn’t trying… I’m sorry.” 

“I said it’s fine,” you grabbed your purse. “Let’s get something besides junk food in Sarah otherwise I’m sure we’re going to pay for it later.” 

“Right,” he nodded. “Let’s go.” 

Joel was still tense next to you at dinner and you damn near chugged a glass of wine in the hopes it would help untie the knot in your stomach. 

Thankfully, you’d brought beer in the cooler from Austin and you grabbed two of them - putting the cans in koozies to cover the labels - when taking Sarah to the pool after dinner. The two of you sat and watched her play with other girls who, you assumed, were also in town for the concert. 

Joel relaxed a little then, just the two of you tucked into a corner of the hot tub with a beer in his hand. 

“Who knew I’d feel so old at 33,” he groaned a little, leaning his head back so it rested on the edge of the hot tub. “Just drove a few hours and I’m already wonderin’ how I’m gonna keep up with her tomorrow.” 

“We do have to keep her busy most of the day,” you smiled a little, watching as she lined up at the edge of the deep end of the pool next to three other girls. They jumped in one by one, each girl doing some kind of dramatic twist or funny hand gesture as they fell toward the water, shrieking and laughing as they came up for air. “It’s going to be a challenge.” 

“Thanks for doin’ this,” he said, tone more serious as he looked at you. “It really does mean a lot. We don’t have a lot of people, always felt like I’ve let her down by not having more. I’m glad she’s got someone else who cares about her, you know?” 

You smiled a little. 

“Of course I care about her,” you said. “She means the world to me. You both do.” 

His eyes traced your face and your heart beat a little faster in spite of yourself. 

“Hey Dad!” Sarah called, pulling you away from each other. “Aunt Goldie! Watch this!” 

“We’re watchin’!” Joel called back. 

Sarah looked to her new friend - a girl who looked to be about her age with red hair in a braid down her back - and they gave each other a nod before running for the edge of the pool and jumping for the water, the girls twisting in the air to slap each other’s hands before they splashed down. You laughed and clapped as they surfaced, Sarah beaming. 

“Looks great, baby girl,” Joel said. “But no runnin’ by the pool, just like at home. It’s not safe.” 

Sarah rolled her eyes as she swam to the side of the pool and going back to her new found friends. 

Things felt almost normal as the three of you headed back to the room, towels over your shoulders and a trail of water behind you in the elevators. Sarah settled quickly once you were back in the hotel room, Joel telling her she couldn’t have any more soda or juice after she brushed her teeth but he did let her pick a movie to put on the TV as she settled into the pull out couch, looking like she was getting away with something as she watched Legally Blonde from her bed. 

Joel stayed in the bathroom far longer than you thought he’d need to as you both got changed into pajamas. You’d seen him go through his nighttime routine enough times, you knew he was trying to make sure he didn’t accidentally see you in your panties again. 

You had, at least, planned ahead for sharing a room with Joel, packing a fairly conservative set of sleep shorts with a matching shirt and changing quickly so you could spare him the sight. You climbed in bed when you were done, staying as far on your side as you could reach, a book propped open on your knees. 

Joel knocked before opening the door, anyway, and you winced as you replied. 

“You’re safe,” you said. He still opened the door cautiously, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw you tucked below the covers. You smiled tightly at him as he climbed in bed beside you, his curls still damp from the pool. You tried not to just look at him - you shouldn’t want to just look at him, he was your friend - as he got settled and scrolled his phone for a moment before he looked toward you. 

“Want to watch a shitty movie?” 

“God, yes,” you said, putting your bookmark in. 

Joel laughed a little and turned the TV on, finding the Hallmark channel with some particularly insipid movie you didn’t need to know the plot of to keep up with, even coming in half way through. 

By the time it was over, the two of you had drifted closer on the bed, both of you a little breathless from laughter. You turned out the lights and lay down, more beside each other than against each other, and you stared at the ceiling for a moment, trying not to think about the fact that the warmth soaking into you came from Joel. 

“M’sorry about the room mix up,” he said quietly into the dark. “I hope it’s not… I don’t want you to feel weird.”

“I don’t,” you said quickly. “It’s fine.” 

“Good,” he said. “Because the last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable…” 

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, either,” your voice dropped low enough that it was almost a whisper. 

“You don’t,” he said, almost as fast as you’d responded to him. 

“Good,” you said after a moment. “Goodnight, Joel.” 

“Night, Goldie.” 

***

Joel had a hard-on when he woke up. 

A goddamn boner pressed against his best friend’s ass, an ass he’d seen barely concealed by the softest looking fucking satin or silk or whatever the fuck women’s panties were made of, a sight he couldn’t seem to shake. Not that it was that different from seeing you in a swim suit but there was something about the intimacy of seeing you in a state of undress when he knew - or was pretty damn sure, anyway - that he was the only man who’d seen you that way in months. He liked that sight being reserved just for him. 

He needed to get the fuck over that. 

He was trying to. Really, truly, sincerely he was trying. He’d managed to get some distance from you - though that had helped less than he really expected. But he couldn’t bring himself to just cut you off. 

Even though that would probably be the smart thing to do. 

Clearly you didn’t feel for him the way he felt for you. He’d kissed you - twice - and you acted like it was nothing. Hell, you’d jumped on Tinder as soon as you got home from the cabin and found fucking Stephen. His stomach had twisted in on itself when he saw that text. Consciously, he knew you didn’t feel the same way he did but fuck, he’d hoped it would take you longer than a few days to do something like resort to Tinder after he kissed you. 

And now here he was, his dick against your ass as you slept tucked against him. He wondered what had done it. Had he dreamed about you and those pink little panties only to forget it when he woke? Had he just felt your body against him as you slept, all curved back into him and making your home against his torso with your legs all tucked up toward your stomach so the lush of your ass was nestled right against his cock? Had he just smelled your hair from where you’d moved in the night, the scent of you all close and beautiful driving him to a step beyond wanting? 

It didn’t really matter, he supposed. All that mattered now was making sure you didn’t know it happened. 

He adjusted himself delicately, his cock aching and leaky in the cotton of his pajama pants, rolling slowly onto his back and leaving the arm you were currently using as a pillow below your head. Joel tried to gently extract his arm, hoping he could make it to the bathroom and - after locking the doors - jerking off fast and hard to the memory of you in those little panties

No such luck. You stirred then, uncoiling yourself and stretching out with a satisfied little moan that seemed to have a direct line to his hard cock, making it twitch in the confines of his pants. 

“Morning,” you said, voice groggy as you adjusted, lifting off his arm and arching your back before relaxing down into the mattress. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to cramp your space…” 

“S’fine,” Joel said quickly. The two of you lay in awkward quiet for a moment. “Should probably get movin’…” 

“Yup,” you said, getting up quickly. “Big day ahead of us.” 

The three of you got ready to go - Sarah already eager to get into her concert outfit and you had to talk her down - before heading to breakfast. Joel just watched you and Sarah talk about her favorite song lyrics over bacon and eggs and wondered how the hell he was supposed to move on from you when you were like this with his daughter. 

You went to the aquarium that day, you and Joel just hanging back as Sarah pressed her face against the glass at every exhibit, finding the fish she liked best and trying to learn everything she could about them. 

Joel found himself watching you almost as much as he watched his daughter, the streaks of refracted light from the water catching on your eyes and skin and hair.

“What?” You asked when you caught him, a puzzled smile on your face. 

“Nothin’,” he shrugged, looking toward the tank. 

“OK,” you laughed a little. “Weirdo.” 

“That’s me,” he smiled, shaking his head a bit. 

“Well, as long as you’re aware.” 

The three of you went back to the room with plenty of time to get ready and Sarah practically shoved Joel into the living room the second they were there. 

“You’re a boy,” she said before she closed the door. “We have a lot more to do than you.” 

There were a few seconds of quiet before the Taylor Swift started playing and Joel laughed a little, distracting himself with a phone game while you and his daughter gave each other makeovers in the bedroom. 

“Dad!” Sarah poked her head out a while later. 

He set the phone down. 

“Yes baby girl?” 

“Are you ready?” She said. “Because we have to do a fashion show.” 

“Fashion show it up, kiddo,” he said. “M’ready.” 

“OK, put New Romantics on,” she said. Joel frowned and she rolled her eyes. “We need a soundtrack, Dad, just do it!” 

“Alright, alright,” he said, going into Spotify and finding the song. “Ready when you are.” 

“Presenting the eras of Sarah and Goldie,” she said with dramatic flair before throwing the bedroom door open and jumping into the living room in a pink shirt covered in sequins and her white skort. Her hair was in two what she liked to call “space buns” on the top of her head, pink plastic hair ties holding them in place. Her springy curls were covered in glitter and she had on bright pink, sparkling eyeshadow and gem stones on her cheeks as she beamed, her arms over her head as she showed off her outfit. “I’m in my Lover era because it’s the best one, obviously.” 

“Obviously,” Joel tried to keep himself from laughing. “That’s a lot of glitter, kiddo.” 

“It’s a concert, Dad,” she rolled her eyes as you poked your head around the door to look into the living room and he caught a glimpse of your much darker makeup. 

“It’s just a spray,” you said. “It’s supposed to wash out pretty easy.” 

“No, don’t show yourself yet!” Sarah shoved you lightly back behind the door. “You have to do it all at once to get the full effect!” 

“Sorry!” You called and Joel heard the hint of a laugh on the edges of your voice. “You tell me when it’s OK to come out.” 

“Thank you,” Sarah said, turning back to Joel and striking a pose. “Lover is the best because it has the most pink AND it has Cruel Summer on it.” 

“Sure,” Joel nodded seriously even though he had no idea what she was talking about. “You look great, baby girl. Very pink.” 

She beamed. 

“And now, Aunt Goldie -” she stepped to the side of the doorway and threw her arms out with a flourish - “who is in her Reputation era!” 

Joel didn’t know what the fuck that meant, either. All he knew was that he had a hard time keeping his mouth shut as you stepped around the door, a sheepish look on your face as you turned in a slow circle to show off your entire outfit. You were in black jeans that hugged every curve of your legs, heeled black boots, a satiny shirt that was low cut enough that he could see a hint of the black lace bra below and a black leather jacket. Your eyes were dark and your lashes were long, your lips blazing red and all he could think about was how much he wanted to ruin that fucking lipstick. He was so busy staring at you like an idiot, he missed what Sarah was saying. 

“I’m sorry, kiddo, what was that?” He asked, not looking at Sarah. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off you. 

“She’s in her reputation era because it’s the most badass - sorry Dad - one,” she said. “And she’s definitely badass. Sorry.” 

“I tried to tell her that no, I’m definitely not,” you said. “But she wouldn’t listen.” 

“Nah, she’s right,” Joel said, hoping he didn’t look like too much of a fucking idiot as he stared at you. “You…” he tried to find some way to describe you that didn’t make him sound like a dumbass. “You look great.” 

You smiled a little. 

“Thanks,” you said. “And what are you wearing?” 

“Oh, right,” he said, getting up from the couch. “Sarah picked somethin’ for me too…” 

He ducked around you into the bedroom and resisted the urge to run his hand over your stomach to the curve of your waist and pull you against him. He changed his shoes into his cowboy boots and got his cowboy hat out from its place in his bag before emerging. 

“What era is this, baby girl?” He asked, his hands awkwardly shoved in the pockets of his jeans. 

“That’s the evermore era,” Sarah said knowingly. Joel frowned and she rolled her eyes. “Cowboy Like Me. Duh.”

Joel saw you press your lips together as you tried not to laugh. 

“Duh, yes,” Joel said. 

“Oh! And…” She scampered to her bag and opened the side pocket of her duffle, pulling out fistfuls of plastic beads. “Friendship bracelets!” 

She put a few on herself before holding clusters of them out to each of you. 

“You’re supposed to trade them with other people at the show! I made a bunch!” 

“Thank you!” You said sliding the cluster of them up your arm and turning them in the light. “I didn’t know concerts required so much prep work…” 

“We ready to go?” Joel asked. “I know parking’s gonna be a nightmare…” 

“Yeah!” Sarah damn near bounded toward the door. “Let’s go!” 

The concert was packed, awash with bright colors and excited squeals as the three of you settled in, Sarah immediately striking up a conversation with a girl about her age in a purple dress, trading bracelets with her. 

“Oh, right,” you said, leaning around Joel to see what Sarah was doing. You started looking over the mass of beads on your wrist and selecting one, passing it over to him. “This one seems good.” 

Joel took it, most of the beads letters that said Call It What You Want. He made a mental note to listen to the song at some point. He smiled a little, putting it on the wrist that didn’t have any bracelets yet so he wouldn’t accidentally give it away. 

“Thanks,” he said, looking at his own wrist until he found the one that made the most sense to him and handed it over before he could think better of it. “Here, in trade.” 

You smiled and took it before laughing a little. 

“You Belong With Me, huh?” You asked. He shrugged and you traced your thumb over the letters before sliding it on your wrist. “Thank you.” 

“Dad!” Sarah grabbed his arm and held up hers. “Look! She gave me her Lover one!”

“That’s great, baby girl,” he smiled at the glittery pastel beads, Sarah’s eyes wide and bright. 

It was impossible to not love how happy Sarah was here. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her smile quite so huge or seen her eyes quite so bright. It was like she was getting everything she had ever dreamed as she chattered away to every girl around them as they waited for the show to start. He drank it in, trying to make sure he remembered clearly, sharply how it felt to see her so happy. After a while, he looked to you to find you watching Sarah, too, a look on your face that was almost as happy as hers and you looked so beautiful he almost wasn’t tempted to look at the plush swell of your lace clad cleavage below your satin shirt. 

Almost. 

“What?” You laughed a little, gaze meeting his just as the lights dimmed. 

“Thank you,” he said. “For wanting to make her happy.” 

You just smiled gently before taking his hand and giving it a squeeze, Joel’s heart skipping a beat as everyone’s attention turned to the stage and cheered, the music starting. 

He didn’t pay much attention to the music during the concert, more interested in watching Sarah have fun and you indulging her, happily dancing along with her and clapping excitedly when she did. 

But there was one song in a slower section that he couldn’t help but notice. You’d been swaying along to the music and Joel had been appreciating the guitar when your head drifted over and rested on his shoulder. He froze for a moment, looking at you with the small smile on your red lips and your eyes all soft as you watched the stage and fuck he wanted to kiss you. He wanted to kiss you and he wanted it to be unlike every other time he kissed you, each of them full of driving want or couched in some pretense. Instead, he wanted to kiss you all soft and slow, gentle and earnest. He wanted to take his time and memorize the taste of you and the way your body felt when cradled against him just so. 

But he couldn’t do that so he tried to focus on the song but the lyrics cut him to the quick. 

One night he wakes

Strange look on his face

Pauses, then says

You're my best friend

And you knew what it was

He is in love

The words were striking in their familiarity, like they’d been written just for him. It was a moment he’d had a long time ago, almost 20 years back now, a lightning bolt that made him stare straight up at his ceiling in the middle of the night, right at the spot over his bed that had some Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition model poster tacked into the popcorn plaster. The model didn’t hold a candle to you and your slow building smiles and the way you grabbed his bicep for support when you laughed. 

Because he loved you. 

He’d never loved anything outside of his family before but he loved you. The realization swallowed him up, swift and devastating, because he knew - even at 16 he knew - that it would never work. You were too smart, you burned too bright, you wouldn’t have your feet glued to this place the way his were. You’d move on after high school and go change the world and he’d be able to read your name in the paper and say that he knew you once. 

Except he’d always assumed that, eventually, he’d move on. That he’d love something else, find some slice of that all encompassing feeling in another woman. He was just 16 then, after all. Who the fuck married someone they met in high school these days? He’d move on. 

But he didn’t. He’d just poured all the love he had into his daughter until he was struck by you again and realized that no, it hadn’t faded. He still loved you in a way he’d never loved anything else and in a way he didn’t think he’d ever love anything else again and he still knew - even at 33 he knew - that it wasn’t going to work. And he couldn’t risk pressing it, not when life was this much better just because you were close. 

But what was he supposed to do? Was he supposed to spend the rest of his life trying to pretend that he’d find someone else to feel this way about? Was he supposed to steep himself in this torturous proximity until he lost himself to it? Was he supposed to try to bear finding distance from you - when he couldn’t even last a few days not speaking to you - so he could manage it? 

He didn’t know. He wasn’t sure he would ever really know. 

“Joel?” You stepped back from him, your eyebrows knitted together. “You OK?” 

You lifted a hand and pressed the back of it to his cheek. 

“M’fine,” he frowned. “Why?” 

“You look pale,” you said, moving your hand to the other side of his face. “But you don’t feel warm…” 

“Just gettin’ too old for the concert life,” he smiled a little. “Don’t worry about it.” 

You took your hand back. He wasn’t sure if it was a kindness or a cruelty. 

“Better get used to it if you’re going to start playing again,” you said, facing back toward the stage. 

“Yeah,” he said, heart clenching a little. “I’d better.” 

You and Sarah got him to dance and he memorized the look on Sarah’s face as the show wound down, all happiness and joy at getting exactly what she wanted.

After a seemingly endless wait for an Eras Tour t-shirt and the traffic jam to leave the parking lot, the three of you made it back to the hotel, Sarah asleep in the back seat. You went to wake her but Joel stopped you. 

“I’ve got ‘er,” he said quietly, lifting her delicately from the back seat. She groggily put her arms around his neck and nuzzled into his shoulder and he smiled a little. She might be getting big but at least he could still carry his baby girl to bed. 

The two of you tucked her in together before tiptoeing to the bedroom. 

“Thank God I talked Sarah out of glitter for me,” you said quietly as you took your makeup off, already in your pajamas in front of the bathroom mirror. Joel tried to resist the urge to trace the curve of your legs and ass with his eyes. “I’ve barely got the energy to take this off…” 

“Her hair’s gonna be a nightmare tomorrow,” he said, smiling in spite of himself. 

“Yeah, but she loved it,” you looked at him in the mirror. “Worth it.” 

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Worth it.” 

When you got in bed, the two of you ditched the pretense of distance that you’d started with the night before. You lay close but not touching, close enough that he could feel the warmth of you under the blankets. 

“So,” you said, yawning. “How was your first concert with Sarah?” 

“Anything that makes that kid that happy is great in my book,” he smiled a little, his eyes tracing the dark outline of you silhouetted in the dim city light that filtered around the curtains. “Seriously… thank you. I couldn’t have done this without you.” 

“Thanks for letting me be a part of it,” Joel could hear your groggy smile on your voice. “And I had a few Christmases to make up for missing.” 

He laughed lightly. 

“I missed you, Joel,” you said, sounding so tired he wasn’t sure that you knew you said it. 

He was quiet for a moment. 

“Missed you too, Goldie. So much.” 

You hummed in response before your breaths shifted to the quiet, easy cadence of sleep and Joel drifted off, letting himself savor the closeness of you. 

That indulgence, he thought at first, was what sparked the dream. 

You were in a hotel room with him in his head, too, but it was different. It was just the two of you and it wasn’t because you had to be. No, you were there for each other. 

Joel took his time with you then. He undressed you slowly, his lips trailing over your neck and shoulder as he slid the straps of your bra down your arms. He kissed you the way he wanted to at the concert, holding you to him as his tongue dipped into your mouth and he could smell your shampoo and feel the silk of your skin below his fingers and his cock was painfully swollen. His kiss grew more desperate, desire shifting to necessity. He was drawn hot and tight inside his skin and wanting you was a distant memory now because he was far beyond that. He needed you. 

He rutted against the soft warmth beside him, seeking some kind of relief, your body relaxed and pliant against him, your breath hot on his skin and it was the little whimper you made that woke him up. 

It was still early, the light coming in from around the edges of the curtains not bright enough for it to be the light of day yet but that didn’t seem to matter, he could see things just fine. You were close and tight against him, his aching cock pressed to your stomach, the root of him against your clit, your pussy so hot he could feel it through your pajamas and his own. Your leg was hitched over his hip and you rocked your hips against his length and your head was tucked below his. He could smell your shampoo and feel the heat of your breath on his neck. He froze against you and you gave a soft, strangled moan. 

“Goldie,” he whispered, only then realizing that he was panting for breath. “Think… I think you’re dreamin’, should wake up…” 

You didn’t respond. You just moaned, high pitched and needy, and worked your core against his length and Joel worried that he was going to come then and there. 

“Goldie,” he said again. HIs voice sounded strangled, like he was choking on the words. “Gotta wake up baby, can’t…” 

Your leg tightened on him and your hand found its way to the back of his neck, playing in his curls as you ground yourself against his cock and he thought he might burst if he didn’t find some kind of relief soon and… was it really wrong if you started it? If you were practically fucking him in your sleep, was it so bad to give in to what you wanted? 

His resolve weakened, falling into nothing in a matter of seconds. His hands spread over you, one between your shoulder blades, the other cupping the lush globe of your ass and he pressed closer to you, grinding against your hot slit that you kept pressing against him like you wanted him the way he wanted you. 

Joel’s hand traveled down your ass and over your thigh, the feeling of your skin below his fingers almost too much when taken with everything else you were offering and fuck he wanted to feel you come. He wanted to bury himself deep inside of you and feel you get lost in your pleasure while wrapped around him. He resisted the urge to at least slip a finger into those wet panties - he knew they’d be wet, knew you’d be fucking dripping - because that, for some reason, was a bridge too far. You hadn’t started that. You had started this. 

“Goldie,” he managed again, forgetting all pretense and just fucking his cock against you now. “Need you to wake up…” 

You buried your face in his neck and moaned, the motion of your hips picking up for a moment before you pulled your face back from him, eyes open wide and glassy with want and shock. He froze, his hands still on you and his cock still pressed against your core. 

“Joel,” you breathed, eyes searching his. “What are we…” 

“Want me to stop touchin’ you?” He asked, praying you wouldn’t say yes. 

“No,” you whispered. “I… I want…I need… but we… we can’t…” 

His heart cracked open at that but he shoved it aside. He could deal with the pain of that later. 

“Don’t gotta be anymore than this,” he said quietly. “It’s OK baby, promise. It doesn’t need to mean anything, it’s OK…” 

You just nodded quickly and buried your face in his neck again, clutching him close so every line of you was tight to his body, your hips working in earnest against his cock. He moaned at the feel of it, needing to press his mouth into the crown of your head to muffle the sound. He rutted himself against you, his leaking cock making such a mess of his goddamn underwear that it almost felt like he was inside you, the slick of his precome and the heat of your pussy intoxicating. 

The two of you rocked against each other like teenagers in heat, terrified of what that next step would mean but too desperate to stop yourselves now. Joel was getting dangerously close to spilling into his pants and was trying to stave off his orgasm, needing to come with you, when you spoke - voice small and hot and needy - from your place tucked against his skin. 

“I’m gonna come, Joel,” you panted so quietly, like your pleasure was a secret. “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come, fuck, I’m gonna come, I…” 

“It’s OK,” he said, holding you a little closer, a little tighter, working his cock against you a little harder. “Just come, it’s OK, I’ve got you, it’s OK, just come for me baby, just come.” 

You rutted yourself against him once, twice more before your body seized up and he could feel the throbbing of your pussy against his cock even through the layers of clothing. He closed his eyes and thrust up, letting himself imagine that he was deep inside you and coming there, his orgasm hitting him so hard it made his head spin. 

Your body went limp in his hold after as the two of you panted for breath, limbs tangled around each other. He just held you, tight enough to feel close but loose enough that you could pull away when you needed, until you leaned back from him. Your eyes were still wide but more in shock, now, than want. 

“Joel,” you whispered. “What did we do?” 

He could hear the panic edging into your voice. 

“What did we just do?” Your breaths were coming in fearful little pants now and he ignored the pain in his chest as he brushed your hair back soothingly. 

“S’OK,” he said softly. “It… it doesn’t have to mean anything, it’s OK. Just… shit happened, it wasn’t anything crazy, it’s OK. It don’t have to be anything it’s not, it’s OK.” 

There was a look in your eyes he couldn’t quite place but then you nodded. 

“You OK?” Joel asked after a moment. 

You held his gaze for a second before you nodded once. 

“Yeah,” you said. “It’s OK.” 

His alarm went off and he scrambled to turn it off, praying that, this time, it really would be OK. 

Next Chapter

A/N: I'm going to keep building that tension because I love to torture them apparently.

Don't ask me what my problem is. If I knew, I'd tell you.

Thank you so much for reading about these two idiots! I love them so much. Even if they're idiots.

[wondersinwaynemanor]

Dick finding excuses just to get hugs from his sister and brothers.

Dick groans loudly: Ow, Ow.

when Jason looks up at him from across the couch in the Manor library, Dick closes his eyes

Jason chuckles because he catches this: What's wrong, Dickface?

Dick opens his one eye, pouting at Jason: I already told you I broke my arm, Wiing.

which is true, but his arm has gotten better already. nevertheless, he continues his drama.

Jason: Want me to get you anything for the arm?

Dick opens both of his eyes now, grinning like an idiot: If we sit beside each other, I'm sure I'll feel better.

Jason: You are such a boy scout, Goldie.

Jason stands up with the book on his hand and sits beside Dick which is still far for Dick's liking.

Dick scoots closer to Jason, their arms hitting. after a few seconds, Dick leans even closer and glances at the book that Jason is reading, purposely nudging Jason's arm.

Dick: Watcha reading, Little Wing?

Jason scoffs but he smiles: I know what you're doing, Dick.

Dick: Which is?

Jason: Sheesh, Dickie. If you want a hug, just let me know.

Dick: You're so smart, Little Wing!

Dick wraps his good arm around Jason, trying his very best, with his one arm and with Jason's large frame.

Jason rolls his eyes as he wraps both of his large arms around Dick, carefully avoiding his broken arm.

Dick ends up sleeping with his head on Jason's shoulder. Jason continues to read until Dick would wake up to avoid disturbing his older brother's rest.

Does Dick need to keep pulling out the broken arm strategy? Yes.

Dick: Ow. Ow. *pretends to sniffle and looks at Tim who is at the batcomputer typing something*

Tim turns his chair around: Hey. That arm really hurting, huh?

Dick pouts: Very much so, Timmy. I can't even scratch my back.

Tim takes a sip from his coffee mug before walking to Dick: I got it.

Dick bites his lips to avoid from smiling. This dork doesn't even need his younger brother to scratch his back, but he's so extra.

Tim reaches for Dick's back and before he knows it, Dick is leaning forward and puts his chin on the top of Tim's head.

Dick: Thank you, Baby Bird.

Tim smiles because he knows what Dick is doing. Tim wraps his arms fully around Dick's waist, giving a warm hug to his older brother. Dick hugs back.

Tim: Like I said, I got you, Dick.

Dick: You always do.

Dick peers at the entrance of the dancing room in the Manor, where Cass is currently practicing her routine for her ballet presentation next week.

when Cass is done with a routine, Dick is grinning widely and clapping loudly.

Dick: Wow! Well done, Cass.

Cass bashfully smiles and motions for Dick to come in.

Dick: Are you done practicing for today?

Cass nods.

Dick: Are you tired already? Maybe you can teach me a few steps.

Cass raises her brow : You dance?

Dick: As long as it's with you.

Cass nods enthusiastically and she teaches Dick a few of the ballet moves, the simple ones, which are mostly twirling and such. And how is Dick an acrobat when he keeps falling on his butt? Was he doing this on purpose?

Cass laughs and offers an arm to Dick. Dick takes it and wraps his arm on Cass's back when he stands up.

Dick: Guess I'm clumsy on the dance floor.

Dick doesn't take his arm off Cass by the time they arrive at the door of her bedroom. Cass looks at Dick's arm and then at his face. Cass knows.

before entering her room, she hugs Dick and Dick automatically complies by tightly hugging back.

they were at the movie room, watching The Lion King when Damian received a text from Dick, who was just here a few minutes ago beside him. and the text was just a hug emoji? Damian wonders why the random text from his older brother.

after a few minutes, Dick re enters the movie room with popcorn and cookies and soda.

Damian: Why the random text, Richard?

Dick has the audacity to act oblivious: Huh? *he sits down beside his brother and offers the other container of popcorn* Oops, must be a wrong sent, Dami.

Damian leaves it be. Damian is already aware that Dick always pulls him close whenever they get to hang out, but he senses that the message was for him.

by the time the movie credits are rolling, Damian hugs his older brother because he knows. Dick is taken by surprise, but his heart is warm because he felt like hugging Damian tonight. if he's being honest, it's always.

Damian: Thank you for the movie, Richard.

Dick tightens his arms around his brother's little form: Thank you, Dami.

Damian: And I know the message was intended for me.

Dick laughs and pretends he doesn't know what his little brother is talking about.

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Hi~! I was wondering if I can request a scenario for Mammon, Asmo and Belphie where the reader is on the curvier side and is very insecure about it? If you’re able to that’s great! Thank you so much~! 😊

This is definitely borderline NSFW, so Minors is back away now. 18+ Only

~~~~~ MAMMON ~~~~~

You were standing in Mammon's room getting dressed for the gala tonight. Mammon had bought a custom-made gold dress for you to match him with his newly freed Goldie. The only problem was he chose a very revealing dress that showed off your curves more than you desired. Looking at yourself in the revealing dress, you noticed your breasts pushing out, your love handles sucking in the sides of the dress, and most of all, when you turned around, you could just barely see the crescents of your ass hanging out. You knew Mammon liked to show off, but this seemed a bit too much. You did one final look over as you put on the 'M' necklace that Mammon had gotten you. Suddenly self-conscious about your body, you went to his closet and grabbed one of his fur jackets. It didn't offer much help covering your bottom half, but it at least covered your top half.

You went downstairs, where Mammon was waiting in his black and gold suit. He turned to look at you, confused, "My treasure, it's summer in the devildom right now. You're telling me you are cold?" You looked down at yourself and then at him with a small smile. "Why yes, you did choose quite the scandalous outfit." You laughed nervously as Mammon closed in on you. When you were within arm's reach, Mammon removed your jacket and noticed your immediate discomfort. Mammon sighed before scooping you up and walking back up to his room. Mammon placed you down on his bed and told you to sit still. Watching him intently, you saw Mammon rearrange the room so that his mirror was facing the bed. Once done, Mammon helped you up and then sat behind you. You saw the exact reflection in the mirror in this stupid gold dress only moments ago. The only difference this time is you were situated between Mammon's open thighs.

"Now look at yourself for me and look at each place on you I talk about as I go down the list of why you are the most gorgeous person to exist." You blushed deeply as Mammon reached up and caressed your head. "Your hair is a beautiful (H/C), so lovely to touch and pull." Mammon's hands moved above your eyes, "Your (E/C) is so vibrant and alluring." Next came your cheeks and lips, "Your round cheeks and pretty pouty lips are so kissable." Soon, you felt Mammon's hands land on your chest, "Your chest is so full and inviting, could sleep right here on them, no questions asked." You felt his soft touch grace your sides and then firmly grip your love handles. "Now, these are for me to hold on to while I have fun with you." As you went to retort back, you felt him grab your ass hard. "And this your pretty ass is for me to stare at while you walk around." You blushed darker, panting slightly at his firmness. Mammon gently rotated you in his lap so you faced him. You placed your hands on his shoulders to try and stabilize yourself. As you breathed out, Mammon pulled you closer, having you straddle his lap. "To hell with the gala treasure, I'll enjoy you right now." Oh, and enjoy you, he did.

~~~~~ ASMODEUS ~~~~~

Asmodeus had roped you in to help him with another fashion show. You don't know how you allowed this to happen. Initially, it was supposed to be you two watching together, but in classic drama fashion, someone got sick, and Asmodeus signed you up to be the new model. As you were being dressed, you heard a sigh from behind you. You turned as much as you could in the awkward angle you were in for fitting to see Asmodeus standing there admiring you. "My peach you are so beautiful, this outfit makes you look like a goddess." You laughed at the silly comment, bringing your attention back to the mirror you were in front of. You took in your whole appearance as the stylist finished the last alterations. You were in a beautiful light pink gown that was just sheer enough that you could imagine what was underneath. The top of the dress was left a little covered as your large breasts were practically spilling out. The slit on the side was high, exposing your thick thighs and the pretty black heels you were in. Your hair was done just right, with subtle pink makeup effects on your face. You turned to look at Asmodeus once more.

"What do you think lover?" Asmodeus smiled, coming towards you and spinning you around. The motion caused the dress to flair slightly and show more of your body to him. Asmodeus closed in on you slowly, closing your eyes, ready for whatever he was planning to do with you. A sudden cleared throat caused you two to separate. You were escorted to the lineup while Asmodeus was taken to the audience. Soon, the lights dimmed, and only the runway was lit as you and the other models showcased the collection. As you went out, it was clear that other demons weren't expecting a plus-sized model to be with the others. You held your head up and kept strutting. Mentally preparing to hear negative whispers, you were surprised by the number of wolf whistles and awe-struck faces you saw. Maybe bigger girls weren't ordinary in the devildom. As you finished your walk, the designer asked you to step out with him again as he closed the ceremony since you were the most liked model. Walking out with him, you felt an arm wrapped around your waist. You looked at the demon in question with displeasure, ready to reem him in front of others for touching you this way, when ,suddenly a pink flash darted past you.

Screams echoed in the hall, followed by more loud noises, and before you knew it, your arm was being dragged by Asmodeus in his demon form. You stared at him in shock as he kept leading you around until he found a private room for you two. Once locked in, he turned to look at you, observing to ensure you were okay. Once content, he slowly started returning to his usual self. "What was that all about Asmo? I could have handled it." He just sighed before pulling you into him. "I know you could have, but just because I am the embodiment of lust doesn't mean I will let others touch what is mine." You blushed deeply; when Asmodeus pulled away, he looked you over again. In the heat of the chaos, your dress tore a bit, leaving your legs a lot more exposed, and your top was close to busting. Asmodeus smirked before getting close to your ear. "You know, why don't I show all these demons who really owns you." You were well-marked and claimed when you finally returned to the House of Lamentation.

~~~~~ BELPHEGOR ~~~~~

It had been a long day, and you were ready to retire for the night. As you approached your room, you passed the staircase leading up to Belphie's hiding place. You walked into your room and changed into the cow pjs you had gotten yourself a few days ago. Putting them on, you realize you may have gotten the wrong size. The shorts were so short and rode up your butt quite a lot, whereas the top was turned more into a crop top by your breasts. Wrapping yourself in a blanket and grabbing your pillow, you went to Belphie's spot. As you entered, you found the sleepy man snuggled up with his blankets and pillows. Slowly, you tiptoed into the room and made yourself comfy beside him with your blanket. Slowly starting to drift off you felt Belphie wrap you up in his arms.

You woke up to a loud bang and a mumbled voice. As you opened your eyes, you saw Belphie sitting on the opposite side of the room with a deep red blush. You sat up on your knees, facing Belphie with your head tilted. "What's wrong, my dear? Did you have another bad dream?" As you spoke, it didn't go unnoticed, Belphie's wondering eyes on your body. "N-No, I just didn't expect you to be there and dressed like that." You looked down and pouted slightly, you bought it to impress him what does he mean dressed like that. Belphie noticed your expression before waving his hands around and speaking, "No its not like that I like it I might like it to much I just normally you wear pants and a big t-shirt not that revealing stuff." You laughed gently, standing up and slowly walking over to Belhpie, his eyes bouncing between your chest and thighs. As you reached him, you squatted down to his level, looking into his eyes. "You really like it?"

Belphie noddedd gently before he reached out and pushed some hair behind your ear. You giggled and grabbed his hand, standing you two up and returning to your blanket pillow fort. As you reached your spot and bent over to rearrange some things that had been moved, you felt Belphie's hand caress you. You gasped slightly, standing and turning to face him. Your face was painted in a dark red blush as you saw Belphie slowly move in on you. Before you knew it, you were down on the makeshift bed Belphie on top of you. "You know cows are my favorite animal, and you just so happen to have these beautiful mounds that need milking." You nodded once, eyes never leaving his. "I-I'd like that, Belphie." He smirked. He may have been a sleepy man, but once you got him riled up, he was like a bull in heat before he went back to bed.

[a-local-idiots-shitpost]

Mc uses their Magic abilities to cause havoc

Lucifer:

you tried turning him into a frog

and if it wasn´t for the fact that your a novice Sorcerer you most likely would have succeeded

he doesn´t even try to imagine how his brothers would have taken advantage of this situation

you get hung from the ceiling for this

you can be lucky if your only staying there for a week and not the rest of your live

but someone did take you down and he was the one who came up with the rule that if you can free yourself he won´t chase you down

guess he´ll have to forbid you from cuddling with Cerberus

Mammon:

how dare you curse Goldie!

what is he´s supposed to do now… he still has a lot of debts to pay back and no time to bail today

why did you have to choose a curse that shocks everybody who touches Goldie?!

you better make it up to him

I-In what way you ask? shut up Human the Great Mammon will think about it

he would love to take advantage of this situation but there is no way he would take money from you or send you out to steal something from his brothers

partially because they will know it was from him and partially because he knows they will use this to their advantage

you do have to help him hide from the debt collectors though

Leviathan:

HOW DID YOU EVEN FIND HENRY 1.0!? wait a minute he seems a lot… smaller now, still angry but not able to eat both of you

he will lose it if you say you just decided to explore the Demon Lords Castle

he doesn´t even know why you would want to take Henry 1.0, the last time both of you meet he tried to kill you

but it seems like both of you are best friends now

and he still wants to kill him T-T you had to drag him away so many time so he doesn´t bite Levi

but Henry 1.0 & 2.0 seem to be good friends… or they are gossiping over Levi

Satan:

you cursed him to be unable to pet cats

he was about to murder you if you don´t lift the curse

but you somehow managed to hide away for a while and the only reason you did end up lifting the curse was because his anger was starting to go out of control after some days

he was hunting you for this and if he wasn´t so angry he would be impressed by your ability to hide away and move without making a noise

but you should hope he never finds… he still isn´t over it and he won´t be for a while

Asmodeus:

you cursed his mirrors to never show his image for a month

DID YOU LEARN ANYTHING FROM LAST TIME!?!? he feels like he´s dying again

he will hate you forever if you don´t lift the curse right now… okay he´s lying but he´s still angry at you

but he will use you as a form of mirror, like constantly looking in your eyes to see how he looks

or he´ll try to kiss you when he does that which isn´t that surprising

he will be so happy when he can see himself again and as punishment your not allowed to leave his room

but it´s up to you if it´s really a punishment

Beelzebub:

Mc how dare you curse the fridge to always look empty when he opens it :,(

do you know how much this hurts them (also he´ll steal your secret stash of sweets for this)

he will ignore you until you lift the curse and you made it up to him, baking him a couple of cakes might help him in forgiving you a bit faster though

it´s actually a bit funny how he´s ignoring you, because he knows he will forgive you when he sees you he always leaves with his food the funny part is the others have to stop him from just taking the table with him

less funny he did end up eating all of your hidden food

Belphegor:

you cursed his bed to feel like a bunch of rocks? is your heart made of steel or something? how could you do this to him?

guess he´ll have to take over your bed now, good luck sleeping now maybe you shouldn´t have done this stupid joke

he wasn´t even joking every time you try to sleep he kicks you off your own bed

and the only way he´ll leave you alone if you lift the curse… and he feels like leaving you alone

so your just pretty much screwed

maybe you shouldn´t have pranked a petty bitch?

[avatarmerida]

Buckle up y’all, this took me through a loop. This is based on an idea that @rebeccaartsy had awhile ago about Hunter being in the show earlier and it inspired this and it kinda just went… woah. So lemme know if it’s confusing at all there’s just a *smidge* of angst but I really like it okay bye

UPDATE: mini sequel here

———

“Gus, listen,” said Hunter, as he walked through the open door of the Owl House. “Obviously, there is classified information that I can’t divulge but upon consideration I am willing to grant you an interview for your class. The Emperor’s Coven values education, and so I could definitely offer you information regarding our selection process which I’m sure your teachers will find impressive and- why is Willow upside down?”

“Oh, Amity set Willow’s mind on fire and now she’s losing all her memories,” said Luz with a nervous chuckle as both girls tried to keep her from falling off the couch. “But uh, whaaat’s up with you?”

“What?” He said running over to her side and helping her sit correctly on the couch and immediately began checking her vitals. “Is she okay?”

“Don’t worry blondie, we’re gonna get these knuckleheads in there to set things right,” said Eda from behind them. “Or at least less wrong.”

“You’re gonna entrust Willow’s mind in the hands of… them?” Said Hunter in disdain as he glared at Luz and Amity who honestly couldn’t argue with him. Willow was limpm in his arms, her eyes unable to focus. “They were the ones who put her in this situation in the first place! Not to mention, this location isn’t zoned for a spell of that caliber and as a member of the Emperor’s Coven I could-.”

“Listen, do you want it done soon or do you want it done legally?” Asked Eda. “Cause by the time we get the permits to do it your way Goldie, there won’t be any of Willow’s memories left to save.”

“Very well then,” said Hunter, pretending as though it was a hard decision. “I’ll allow it. Just… be careful with her.”

“Alright then,” said Eda. “Lemme whip up something to put her to sleep. She’s not gonna wanna be awake for this.”

“Oh look, the prince is here,” giggled Willow, leaning on Hunter’s shoulder for support as she noticed his presence for the first time. “Helloooo, your highness.”

“Uh, hi,” he said, not expecting her to be this close to him but knowing that pouting distance between them would cause her to fall. “A-re you oka-.”

“Shhh,” she said, putting her finger to his lips, whispering as though it was the most serious thing on earth. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“What?” he said despite his lips being smushed, hanging on to her words with concern.

She took a deep breath. “You have beautiful eyes.” She whispered with intensity.

His face turned bright crimson as he tried to laugh, assuming it must be a joke of some sort. But Willow’s voice didn’t carry the disdain most jokes at Hunter’s expense carried. She wasn’t in her right mind, but maybe that didn’t mean she wasn’t serious.

“Oh uh… thank you?” He said, clearing his throat. “So, uh, s-so do you?”

“Hmmm,” she giggled then hiccuped, squinting at him and then leaning in closer as though she couldn’t quite see something. “Do they make you wear that mask because you're so handsome all the time?”

“What?”

To the side, Luz and Amity were trying in vain not to giggle. Hunter shot them another glare, knowing this was no time for laughter let alone from them.

“How could you let this happen?” he asked them through clenched teeth and they quickly felt guilty. Even though Eda had a solution, this was serious. As Hunter’s stern eyes reminded them that this was their doing, Willow’s finger slowly made its way to trap Hunter’s forelock, twirling it around her finger.

“Awwwh, look at the widdle worm,” she whispered, enchanted by its delicate spring. Hunter couldn’t help but smile.

“Oh suuuure when she calls it a worm it's cute but when I do it you threaten to banish me!” said Hooty with disdain.

“Well that’s because you tried to eat it!” said Hunter as Willow continued to coo at his hair. She did this often, usually when he was upset or grumpy she’d flick it or pull it and for some reason it calmed him down. Her teasing wasn’t cruel or spiteful, it was silly and sweet. Now, she was beyond silly but playing with his hair seemed to distrust her from wandering away so Hunter said nothing of it.

“Woooormy wormy worm,” Willow sang to herself as Hunter steadied her by her shoulders and subtly checked her for any signs of external injury. But it appeared the only damage was her mind, for now at least. He would find time to be furious with Blight and the human later, but now his concern outweighed any other emotion he could hope to have now.

Soon Willow erupted into a sea of giggles as she remembered her worm friend was attached to a person. “Well helloooo again, princey” she said, her voice low and playful, trying to wiggle her eyebrows. “You come here often?”

“Uh… yeah?”

“Hmmm exactly how many worms are you hiding?” she whispered as though she was being spied on. “Are you stealing them from my garden?”

“Uh, I don’t know how to answer that, it’s not-.”

“Nap time!” Said Eda, zapping something in their direction and Willow instantly fell asleep, leaning forward onto Hunter’s shoulder. He was unprepared to say the least, but tentatively put an arm around her to keep her upright, his eyes wide as his movements were careful.

“Alright coven boy, you keep Princess Planter comfy while I tell these two how to keep things from getting worse,” instructed Eda, pointing to Luz and Amity.

“Yeah sure okay,” replied Hunter, barely listening. Eda was telling Luz and Amity something but all Hunter could hear was the gentle sound of Willow snoring, her breathing slow and deep and peaceful. He has never been so close to her, he could see every delicate freckle that decorated her face. Her glasses were askew so he carefully removed them, because it just seemed like the thing to do. Her mind was on fire, the least he could do was make her more comfortable.

—

After Amity and Luz had been on their mission for a while, Hunter did not leave Willow’s side as he watched her eyes shift behind her eyelids as she… dreamed? Would she think this was all a dream? She would mumble things occasionally, hopefully that meant something good? She just looked so-

“Hey Hunter, you want in on this?” Asked Gus.

“Huh?” He looked up quickly as though he was being accused of something. He hadn’t been listening. Hadn’t he been tasked with monitoring her? Is that what Eda said or had he just done it naturally? “Sorry, what?”

“King and Eda are competing to be the subject of my interview,” repeated Gus. “You still want in?”

Hunter had forgotten all about being the subject of Gus’ report as he became engrossed in watching Willow sleep. Was that creepy? He didn’t mean it to be. He just felt… protective. He felt responsible. He could never fall asleep like this with anyone unless he trusted them completely. He had never fallen asleep around anyone. And he knew Willow did not have a choice in the matter but he wanted to be worthy of her trust anyway.

“Uh, no thanks maybe next time,” he said, uncharacteristically soft. “Someone should keep an eye on Willow.”

“Eh, she’s not going anywhere goldie,” said Eda as a twinkle entered her eye. “Buuuut when she does wake up, she’s probably gonna be hungry. Having the essence of your inner being threatened really takes alot out of you.”

“Oh yeah, sure,” said Hunter, looking at her in wonder. She seemed to be doing fine, but no doubt there would be brutal side effects. “Should I-.”

“Snacks! Snacks! Snacks!” chanted King.

“Oh yeah, uh I guess I could… do that,” he said softly. He wasn’t sure why he was being quiet, no one else was. But his usual tone didn’t seem fitting now. Normally, he would not take orders (or even suggestions) from civilians but if it was for Willow then it didn’t feel like succumbing to rank. It felt like helping. It felt purposeful. He carefully stood up, mourning the loss of warmth for only a moment, and placed Willow comfortably on the couch carefully guiding her head to a throw pillow. As he made his way to the kitchen, his eyes were glued to her until it was impossible to continue. Eda,King, and Gus were too occupied in their debate to notice.

Willow was going to be fine, she had to be. Everyone would be acting more worried if she wasn’t, right? She had always been strong and capable, he knew her mind couldn’t be much different. He turned his focus from concern into purpose. He wouldn’t admit it to the others, but he was thankful for the distraction. He felt foolish just sitting there not being able to do anything for her. He had never actually made something before, but how hard could it be? He had studied under the head of the Potions coven, how different was baking from that?

As he looked through Eda’s cupboards, Willow’s words echoed in his ears. Well, not all of them. There was one in particular, occupied by the way the ends of her mouth turned up as she said it that made his stomach flip.

Handsome.

No one had ever called him that before, not even ironically. Did she really think that? Why did he care so much if she did? Why, suddenly, did he want so much for her to?

Was it really suddenly though?

Ugh! Why hadn’t he said something cooler? He wasn’t sure she’d even remember saying it, but if she did he didn’t want his surprised reaction to prevent her from possibly repeating herself! He had never had issue thinking of clever retorts (though, to be fair he did do a fair deal of practicing in his bedroom mirror each night) and they often fell into a comfortable conversation. But sometimes she would say something a certain way or look at him too long and it would throw him off. Not in a bad way, no nothing at all like that, just… unexpected. She laughed at the jokes people would roll their eyes at or ask him to continue where normally he was cut off and all the little things just kept adding and piling up until Hunter didn’t know how he was supposed to carry them. She was so many little things, like the way she tilted her head when she asked him a silly question or how her glasses would slide off her edge of her nose when she got excited or the way she would stand close to him and sometimes their hands would brush like she didn’t care if they-

Focus! He thought, taking ingredients from the cabinets. There wasn’t much and what there was seemed to have no organizational system but he could resolve that after he figured out what to whip up. Something simple, something to show Willow he wanted to help. He didn’t know her well enough to enter her mind with Luz and Amity, but secretly he hoped he was getting there.

Eventually, he managed to make something that resembled cookies, the smell filled the kitchen and it surprisingly wasn't an awful smell?. He remembered Willow mentioned once she was eager to get home as her father had made some and they were waiting for her. Truthfully, Hunter had never tasted a cookie but he had seen them when he walked by the bakery in town and knew the basics of their structure. Surely if he had taken a wrong turn the smell would reflect that, right? He imagined the look on Willow’s face when she saw his creation, and maybe even liked it. The flipped feeling returned to his stomach and spread through his whole chest like a wild fire when the potential look of delight on her face graced his mind.

In his efforts, he had made quite the mess. But he couldn’t help but feel pride as he quickly plated his creation, eager to return to Willow’s side. He didn’t think too much into this, he was always excited to see Willow. He tried not to think too much into that, chalking it up to the fact that she was interesting and a good listener and funny and smart and pretty and-

The point was she didn’t find him totally annoying, so why shouldn’t he enjoy her company?

And if she happened to think he was a little handsome then, well, that wasn’t the worst thing.

As he set the cookies to cool, he heard a sudden commotion from the next room. He quickly ran to see the cause, hoping it was a good sign. There was a bright flash and then he heard Luz and Amity. He stood back a moment, trying to deduce their tone before he heard Willow speak. Her voice was horse and soft, but he could tell she was back to normal. Good, he thought, feeling as though he could finally breathe again. She’s okay, she’s okay.

He went to greet her but before he could leave the kitchen, he was stopped by Luz. Before he could offer a snarky question as to what exactly she thought she was doing, she looked at him with wide, concerned eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, furrowing his brow. He tried to look past her to see what was going on. “Is she okay? Did something happen to-?”

“Willow’s fine.” she assured him, putting her arm up to stop him. “There were just some… complications.”

“What complications? Was she hurt? Does she need-?”

“No no, nothing like that but um there were some memories… we couldn’t save,” said Luz carefully.

“Like what? Did she forget something for a test she has? Because I can always-.”

“No, no uh there were more… recent memories,” Luz tried to figure out the nicest way to say this. ”Hunter, I’m sorry but we were still figuring out how things worked and it all happened so fast but… Willow doesn’t remember you.”

“What?” He felt something shatter.

“I’m so sorry, but hey, it’s an easy fix! Right? We can just introduce you now!”

“Yeah, uh I guess…” he said, looking at his current state. He had thrown on an old apron and was covered in flour, his hair a mess. This night was already so chaotic, it hardly seemed like a time Willow would want to meet someone new. He didn’t know how Luz would even go about it.

When he and Willow had first met, Luz had already given her opinions to her friends when it came to the Golden Guard. She described him as pretentious and rude and socially awkward. But when she had stumbled upon Hunter hanging upside down by his ankles after taking a wrong turn and falling into a den of wild climbing hysteria vines, she had no idea who he was. He had been so grumpy and flustered and embarrassed but had he known exactly who had come to his rescue his gratitude would not have been so halfhearted.

She didn’t seem to be bothered by it, and she didn’t brag or showboat as she easily helped him down. She laughed, not to mock him but to try and lessen his embarrassment as though she could relate. It could happen to anyone, she had said as she helped remove the remaining vines from him. When I first started on the plant track I had my fair share of run-ins with these troublemakers, she said as she carefully untangled them. Hunter could tell she could do it easily with magic but she did it by hand so as to ensure he was not hurt. He was speechless as he watched her work, she was focused; she didn’t ridicule him or ask for anything in return or gripe about how he was making her late, she just helped him because doing so was just in her nature. When she finished, he managed to mumble something resembling a thank you before she kept running to her destination, unaware they were heading to the same place.

She didn’t ask for anything in return, not snails or a favor or did anything to use the moment as blackmail. She didn’t mention it in front of the others when they met again at the Owl House. From that moment on, she occupied a part of Hunter’s mind he didn’t know was available. Now he had a chance for her to see him exactly as he wanted to be seen from the beginning and it felt like a chance he needed to seize.

He had a second chance at a first impression.

His mind made up, he looked around for a way out before the human could return with Willow. Quickly, he climbed out the window and landed in a bush. He ducked beneath the window and pressed his back against the wall as he heard Willow and Luz enter the kitchen.

“Huh, where did he go?” he heard Luz wonder.

“Who was this again?” Willow asked, her voice still raspy as though she was utterly exhausted.

“Uh, it’s kinda hard to explain,” Luz admitted. “But, he’ll be around again. I know he really wants to meet you!”

“Okay,” said Willow, uncertain. “If you say so.”

He couldn't help but think about the chill that went up his spine when she looked into his eyes. He didn’t understand exactly what it was but he knew it wasn’t nothing. He wanted Willow to know a better version of him. He cared what she thought. When she met him this time, he wanted it to be a meeting worth remembering.

—

But the more time that passed, the more Hunter built it up in his mind.

He wanted to be charming and funny and brave and smart and cool and so many things he wasn't totally sure he had ever actually been, forget all at once. But there was so much to condired! The setting, the time of day, how her day had been, He didn;t want to be associated with a bad day and he wasn’t totally sure what preconceived notions she had about him. Luz and Gus had promised not to say anything about him to her, feeling guilty that she had lost a part of herself, but the Golden Guard was a public figure and he couldn’t control things she might overhear.

And then his uncle made him head of the Emperor's Coven, and he had less time to conduct his perfect meeting.

Then one day, Darius told him to collect new recruits for the Coven and Hunter knew he couldn’t wait any longer.

---

Willow just couldn’t shake the feeling that she had seen Hunter before. Had he been posing as a student awhile before she had used her vine to rip him from the sky? Despite his upbringing, Willow had a feeling this form of undercover did not come so naturally to him. She was certain that had he been at Hexisde before today she would’ve noticed with certainty. Had she seen him at the market maybe? Perhaps there was a day where he wanted to avoid attention and did not wear his mask as he bought trinkets and groceries. Even then, he was hardly the type to indulge in leisure; she had a feeling it was unlikely he’d linger in a crowd long enough for her to catch a glimpse of his maroon eyes or the way his gap tooth showed when he smiled.

Stranger still, the things that seemed most familiar about him were the more detail oriented. He seldom smiled, as though he was saving it, but when he did it made Willow’s heart and head spin like they were working together to create a whirlpool of deja vu.

There weren’t many places their paths could have crossed, maybe it was as far back as before she and Amity had their falling out. The Blights did alot of business with the emperor, maybe he had accompanied Darius once when he was picking up an order while she was over visiting.

Maybe she had walked by him at Covention? But wouldn’t he be too busy and wearing his mask the whole time? Oh, it was going to kill her! She had to know! As her mind began to race, her scroll let out a tiny ding.

Willow’s heart froze for a moment as she opened the app and a huge smile engulfed her face.

Rulerzreachf4n wants to send you a message

She quickly accepted.

RULERZREACHF4N: hI

RULERZREACHF4N: iT s hunt er.

RULERZREACHF4N: Im s orry about the ki DNApping stuf f

“Woah,” giggled Willow as another text bubble appeared. “He is a slow typer.”

“Is that Hunter?” Gus asked. “Oh thank Titan, is he finally messaging you?”

“Yeah, he-,” her smiled dropped and she brought her scroll closer to her face. “Huh, that’s weird.”

“What?” asked Gus.

“I went to respond to him and it looks like we already had other messages,” said Willow, scrolling. “But how? Unless he was already following me but i- wait.” She went silent again as she explored the interactions of their profiles. “Hunter was already following me on penstagram and he liked like all of my pictures too.”

“Oh haha that’s so weird,” said Gus nervously. “Lemme see your scroll, I bet it’s like a virus or something I can fix, just let me-.”

He went to reach for her scroll but Willow pulled it aware, giving him a suspicious look.

Gus sighed. “Okay, listen; it’s… complicated. But we all promised Hunter we wouldn’t say anything. I didn’t wanna delete your conversations so I blocked him on your account until he was ready, but I didn’t know he was gonna wait this long!”

“What are you talking about?”

“I think… this might be something he has to tell you in person.”

---

Could he just message her?

Hey, this is totally random but I actually already kind of knew you but you don’t remember me. So I know alot about you, but not in a creepy way because I like you… also not in a creepy way. I might seem creepy but I-

“Oh boy that’s a run-on sentence for sure,” he said, looking at the gibberish he typed. But every time he went to try and fix it it made things worse. He put his scroll away as he continued to walk around the castle garden, hoping inspiration would strike.

Wasn’t the plan always to start over? Didn’t he want her view of him to be brand new? The fresh start was tempting, but now that he had Willow back in his life, he couldn’t wait any longer. He wanted to dive back in, he wanted to know everything that had happened since the last time he saw her. He had an outside view from her penstagram, Gus had found a way to still allow him access to her through that but we wanted to know more beyond her cute captions. He wanted to show her all the cute photos of Flapjack he had taken (the palisman wanted more than anything to meet the girl his boy ranted about so often), to share with her all the new plants he had seen on mission in demand dangerous parts of the Isles, more than anything he wanted to hear her laugh again.

Okay, maybe he could compromise. Maybe he could still be this cool and confident person to her, and slowly bring up other moments they had shared. But to only keep the good parts and omit the awkward and embarrassing moments was lying, wasn’t it? Willow had never lied to him, even in her attempts to spare his feelings she always found a better way to phrase things, but she would never lie to him.

But if he wanted her to know about the way his heart stopped when she held his hand during their moonlight conjuring, he’d have to admit that he had not been invited and how Luz did not hesitate to remind him every time he spoke. If he wanted her to know about the fun they had at Covention darting to all the different booths as he pulled rank to get her the best swag, he’d have to share that he was only able to do so because Lilith thought he was an annoying twerp and said she gave him a headache. If he wanted Willow to know him, she had to know all the parts of him that he didn’t like.

But she hadn’t seemed to mind them so much the first time around.

He would have been Caleb forever if he had his way. To have Willow look at him with pride when they had won the match, to be someone she associated with strength and victory and talent. But Gus would know of his deception and conceal his connection to the coven would only create more trouble. But- oh his head was spinning with all the things he could do next he felt like he was upside down.

And then he was literally upside down.

He could tell by the skillful way the vines wrapped around him that she had captured him by launching the vine over the branch of the nearby tree and pulling back like a well crafted trap so he’d be helpless to her ambush. His eyes shook open to meet hers, a sparkling peridot green littered with embers of suspicion and determination.

“H-hey captain,” he sputtered both happy and terrified to see her. “W-what’s going on?”

“You tell me,” she said, holding up her scroll and using her finger to scroll through a stream of messages spanning over several months.

Oh yeah, he thought, she can see those now.

“Heh, uh I-I can explain…”

“I’m waiting.”

He could explain, he just didn’t know how. Where was he supposed to start?

“So, uh, here’s the thing I was… well, we were… I mean, okay so-.”

Willow slowly released him to the ground, trying to decipher why exactly he’d be so nervous. She wasn’t totally sure what she had been expecting. As he dusted himself off, she tried to pinpoint what exactly she had been hoping he’d say. Maybe it was more complicated than she thought. The fact that she had come all this way so late instead of messaging or calling him told her that deep down she already knew it was complicated.

Hunter took a deep breath and started over, from the beginning.

“We’ve met before.”

“Hmmm,” said Willow, careful not to jump to conclusions. Hunter could tell she was rightfully skeptical.

“Wait, wait! Proof! I have proof!” He frantically exclaimed, reaching into the pocket of his jacket to grab something. “Here!”

He held between his fingers what appeared to be a small piece of paper. Willow reached out and carefully took it, sensing he kept it on his person and close by for a reason. She turned it around and saw it was a photograph of them. She could tell by the texture that it was a memory, her memory. But she could not recall it.

She was laughing, her smile bright and wide. In one arm, she held a stunning Juliet orchid, a bright healthy golden yellow and the other one pulled Hunter close to her as his face held an expression of pride. She remembered when she had finally gotten the orchid to bloom, getting her into the advanced perennial placements which was composed of only the most gifted students about to graduate. She had been so proud of herself for finally conjuring it, but her memory had her alone when the orchid appeared.

“How did you get this?”

“Luz said you had been doing a school assignment about memory and ones involving me had somehow been destroyed,” he said. “But then she mentioned that there might be memories of me intact back in your classroom. So I went to the school and this was one she had pulled that had me in it. It wasn’t anything major and Eda said trying to restore them would do more harm than good, that it wouldn’t make me relevant or anything, just familiar looking, like any other stranger.”

He said the words delicately like being a stranger to her was a fate worse than death. Despite the seriousness of the matter, Willow had a feeling he had. A flair for the dramatics.

“But it meant that if we ever did meet again that you wouldn’t be able to totally register me,” he said. “So I kept it because strangers don’t produce vivid memories like this.”

“This is only one photo,” she said. “It’s possible that it did-.”

“No, because I have a matching memory!” He said, reaching down to pull another photo from his pocket. “See?”

The photos were nearly identical. They were of the same moment, that was certain, but there was variation in their faces. In Willow’s memory, Hunter’s face matched her own but in Hunter's there was a rosy tint to the scene and his smile seemed more flustered.

“Weird,” she breathed. “Why does yours look different?”

“Because I think that’s the moment when I started…”

Her eyes darted from the photo to him now, trying to read his expression to know why he couldn’t finish that sentence.

“Yeah?”

“It was… an important moment.”

“Oh,” she said, looking at the photo again. “Yeah, it was for me. But how did helping me with an assignment make it important for you?”

“Because I helped you,” he said simply. “I mean, I’m supposed to help people all the time I-I try to, but you were so excited that I felt… important. I was happy because you were happy and… I dunno, it just felt nice.”

Willow brought the picture closer to her face. She couldn’t help but feel slightly memorized by her own face, seeing herself smile so wide, so obviously happy in a moment that was partially lost to her. There was no question about how she felt here, and it felt odd to feel envious of herself. Something in her heart told her that she really liked knowing this boy, and even more so she liked being known by him.

Had it been any other girl in the photo, she’d say with complete confidence that they were a couple.

“Were we… friends?” She asked carefully, hoping he’d understand the deeper meaning within the question.

He didn’t. “Oh yeah,” he said. “Well… yeah, I like to think so. Sorry, I’m still getting used to a lot of normal teenager things but I think… yeah; we were friends. You were a really great friends, er are a really great friend.”

“Were we… just friends?” She tried again, biting her lip trying not to get her hopes up. But something told her it needed to be asked. Maybe it was how incredibly charming she found his smile, was her mind trying to bring back a memory or had she always just thought he was cute?

“Yeah,” he said quickly, his face turning a faint red. “Well, uh, I-I-I uh think so. I mean, there were times where we- where I- thought that maybe we could-.”

He looked back up at her and caught her eyes, wide and hanging on his every word. She trusted him, he held parts of her past that were unreachable to her. He didn’t want to risk twisting her understanding or putting his own thoughts in her mind just because he hoped they had once been similar. But as much as he admired her, those eyes reminded him how he chickened out every time he got close to bringing up his feelings. They just left him too paralyzed and entranced, even when she considered him a stranger.

“Yeah?” She prompted him to finish. He gulped and pressed on.

“Well, I guess… I know how I felt but I can’t speak for how you felt,” he said carefully.

“Do you… still feel that way?”

“I mean I uh…. Well, it doesn’t really matter,” he said with a forced chuckle that suggested the opposite. “I can’t just expect things to go back to the way they were.”

“Why not?”

“Well, I have more responsibilities now- we both do, I suppose,” he said. “Before, I’d have the occasional mission but now I’m the head of the Emperor's coven. And I’m not supposed to have those feelings anyway.”

She felt her breath stop, as though trying to make the world quieter so she could hear his words longer. She could tell Hunter had a hard time with words if they were informal, so it was possible he was referring merely to friendship. But something about the way he couldn’t decide if he should or shouldn’t look at her, the way she could tell he definitely wanted to, allowed her to assume it was more. Either way, he had feelings for her and she wanted so desperately to hear more about them.

“Well, I won’t hold that against you,” she assured him. “I know we can’t undo me forgetting you, and I know I’m never going to remember things involving you from my perspective, but it makes sense. There are times where I feel like there’s a hole, like a skip. Things that Luz or Gus will say that just don’t quite line up or make total sense and I’m guessing those are things that involve you, conversations we had.”

“Yeah,” said Hunter. “I really liked talking to you.”

“I liked talking to you too,” she said. “Well, I’m assuming so after browsing through our old messages on penstagram. A lot of late nights.”

He blushed. “Yeah, I uh keep strange hours,” he said. “But you always said it was okay.”

“Is your keyboard broken or something?” She chuckled. “Cuz a lot of them I had to read two or three times.”

“Oh, uh no I’m still getting used to typing,” he laughed. “I’m probably not better now, you were really the only person I ever messaged.”

“Well, I’d love to go over them with you,” she said. “And maybe you can fill me in on some other things we used to talk about.”

“Like what?”

She shrugged. “Luz said you used to come to Owl House all the time,” said Willow. “But did we ever hang out, like just us? Did we have inside jokes or did I tell you all my secrets? I’ve got some catching up to do.”

“I can write them down for you too,” he said with a smile. “My handwriting is much better than my typing, I promise.”

“I’d like that,” she smiled, she always did love getting letters. “But why didn’t you try sooner?”

“I wanted to make a better first impression, I wanted to be better,” he said. “When I first met you, I was unkind and rude and just not very pleasant. But spending time with you… made me happier and I think it made me more fun to be around. I wanted you to see the best version of me because I just really… value your opinion.”

“So why didn’t you just introduce yourself?”

“There was never a good time,” he sighed as he started to pace. “Whenever I did see you before, it was because I snuck away or you found me. I didn’t want to rush it because what if I said something that would be okay if you knew me but not if it was the first thing I ever said to you and it made you never want to see me again? It had to be perfect. I wanted you to think I was cool and worth knowing.”

“Well, I think it’s sweet how important to you it was but I’m pretty sure you had nothing to worry about.”

He smiled and shook his head. He knew it was true, deep down. He knew Willow was wise and kind and patient. He knew she’d give him a second chance if he embarrassed himself, he knew she could see more in people than they could see in themselves.

“Anyway, I just couldn’t wait any longer because I-.”

“Realized how silly you were being?”

“Because I missed you too much,” he finished softly. He said it like it was the only constant truth he had ever known, so simple and yet the weight it carried could easily crush him. He missed seeing her smile up close, he missed his name on her lips, he missed the way the air seemed lighter around her. Starting over didn't seem so bad as long as he got the chance to spend time with her again. The feeling was almost overwhelming, being so close to the way things were before.

Willow wondered if the feeling in her heart was familiar or brand new as she felt his gaze surround her. Everything about him seemed sharp and jagged but the moment she found his eyes, he was the softest boy in the world. They had known pain, anger and loneliness but the moment they registered her she saw it all melt away and he gladly succumbed to the comfort of her company. She had a feeling the adrenaline that coursed through her veins and made her face flush wasn’t solely from the match.

“I think… I missed you too,” she said. She knew it didn’t make sense but at the same time nothing had ever made more sense. She knew was saying she missed someone she had never met as far as she knew, but she had felt this way before. She had felt this way with Gus and with Luz, like they were always meant to be with her. Like when she’d think of a happy memory from before they had met, her mind wanted to insert them in it. But this was different. Because Hunter actually could fall into these memories.

He smiled, welcoming the contradiction, grateful for it even. He looked like he might cry, as though no one had ever said they had missed him before.

A comfortable silence twirled between them and just like with every comfort Hunter provided Willow wondered how many times she had felt this way and if she had intended to do anything about it.

“So… have you tried to come back any other times?” she asked, fiddling with her braid.

“Well, uh… the first time,” started Hunter clearing his throat, slightly self-conscious. “Was uh, a little while after the incident. I wanted to see if you recovered, give you time to see if anything could be done because I uh… well, right before that happened I was bringing you some reading material I had found about Gromethius, since he lives beneath your school.”

Translation: Suddenly I could tie everything I read back to you somehow as an excuse to come share it with you.

“And you told me that they treat his awakening as a big party and I was commenting on how ridiculous the event sounded and you asked me if I wanted to see it for myself. I said I couldn’t just go because I didn’t attend Hexisde and it wasn't a threat that constituted coven involvement. And you asked if I wanted to go so you could show me that it could be fun.”

“And you said yes?” Willow blushed. She had never had the courage to ask someone to Grom and he made her seem like it wasn’t something she’d freak out about. Was she actually this cool or did it just seem that way to him?

“Of course I did,” he said instinctively, suddenly unable to look at her. “Then Gus mentioned how going to Grom with someone has certain… implications. And it was all I could think about the whole week. Whether you had asked me as a friend or a-as a date.”

“So… which was it?”

“Well, we didn’t actually get to go to Grom.” He chuckled softly. “When it came around, you had already forgotten me so I couldn’t really ask you about something you couldn’t remember. But I thought it might be a good time to meet again.”

It really would’ve been, she thought.

“But then there was added pressure because I still don't know if it was a date and you don’t remember asking me and you could’ve asked someone else or been asked by someone else so what if I showed up and you were-.”

“So you didn’t come?”

“No, I did… er, for a minute,” he said. “At the end.”

Her eyes lit up, making a connection. She let out a small gasp. “You were the boy with the bouquet.”

“I… yeah,” he said quietly.

She remembered it so clearly.

When the excitement of Grom was winding down, Willow had stepped outside for some air. It was the most interesting Grom in years, that was sure. She was there with her friend, she loved how she looked, she was having fun but it still felt like something was… missing. It itched at the back of her mind all night. Had she forgotten to turn in an assignment? Had she left the oven on? Was there something she had meant to bring with her?

Nevertheless, she took in the nighttime view in solitude, the distant sound of music pouring into the dark sky from the school. Usually at this point she would be overcome with nerves at the possibility of being Grom queen, but this year she didn’t have that anxiety. Of course, no one wants to face Grom and she certainly wasn’t disagreeing with that logic but something inside felt that now she would be capable of it. Funny how so much has changed in so little time. Who knows what next year would look like? Maybe she’d even have someone to-

“Wow,” her thoughts were interrupted by a soft voice she was sure she wouldn’t be able to hear if the door wasn’t closed. She turned and saw a boy in a finely tailored golden suit, like a prince who had escaped from a fairytale book.

“You look beautiful,” he breathed. And despite knowing that no one else was outside except her, it took her a moment to realize he was talking to her.

“Oh, uh thank you?” She said, not certain why she had phrased it like a question. She tucked her hair behind her ear, eating to see if he’d correct himself or take it back. But he didn’t. He just stood there, staring at her like she had been staring at the moon as he held his bouquet tightly. Despite a matching gold masquerade mask covering most of his face, the strong burgundy of his eyes found her in the moonlight. He looked like he was waiting for someone.

“Oh, sorry,” she said. “I’m probably interrupting something, huh? Sorry if you were waiting for someone I should-.”

“No!” He said, louder than he meant to before becoming bashful. “I-I mean uh well, I am kind of. Waiting for someone that is.”

“Oh, okay,” she said, understanding what waiting for someone on Grom night with a bouquet of flowers signified. She smiled. “Do you want me to go see if they’re inside?”

“No, no I uh know she’s not in there,” he said.

“Oh,” she said, and her heart sank for this lonely golden boy. “Oh, I’m sorry. Does she know you’re waiting?”

“No, I don’t think so,” he said. “But it’s okay, really. I just uh… it’s complicated.”

“Gotcha,” she said. For some reason, she related. She had never had something beyond a crush that the other party never even knew about, for some reason her heart understood the sentiment of not knowing where you stood with someone. Like she had been in his shoes in another life. “It’s uh, a really nice bouquet. You have good taste.”

“Yeah? Uh, thanks,” he said looking down at the flowers, as though waiting for them to weigh in.

“You’re welcome.’

“Would it be okay if I… gave them to you?” he asked, tentatively handing her the flowers. It was a lovely collection, she could tell it was carefully chosen and obviously made by someone who knew about floriography or made for someone who knew a lot about floriography.

“Are you sure?” She asked, captivated by the colors. “It’s so lovely, I wouldn’t want to-.”

“No, please,” he said. “It would mean a lot to me, really.”

“Well, okay,” she obliged, her nose instantly filing with the sweet, fresh aroma. Whoever this girl was, she had clearly done quite a number on him. “Thank you, I’ll take good care of them.”

“I know you will,” he said as though he knew her. She took in the collection and when she looked up to ask if he wanted to go inside and dance with her and her friends, he was gone. Had she not held the bouquet she had crafted, she would have sworn she had imagined him.

And now he stood before her once again.

“I still have it,” she said.

“What?”

“The bouquet,” she said. “You picked lovely, healthy flowers. They’re still in a vase on my desk in my room.

“Oh,” said Hunter, trying to hide his blush. “That’s… cool. I-I’m glad.”

“You should’ve stayed,” she continued. “We still could’ve danced.”

“Yeah, well…” he sighed, he wished he had stayed too.

“So… if it had been a date… you still would’ve came?” Willow asked as nonchalantly as she could.

“Huh?” Hunter said

“I uh… well, I mean it would be rude to turn down an invitation,” he stammered. “Especially to such a formal event I mean I-.”

“Did you want it to be a date?” She asked more directly.

“I… don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t know if I’d know the difference? I just know I wanted to spend time with you and you looked really pretty and it made me feel stupid. I don’t know what that’s about.”

“I think I might,” she said, tucking her hair behind her air. The action felt familiar, instinctual. Like something about his voice triggered the response as though it had done it before. “Did you know there’s different kinds of memories?”

“Well yes, there’s important and less important, pleasant ones and unpleasant ones...”

“No,” she giggled. “I mean there’s different ways to remember things. Like smells can be linked to memories, not just visual things. Feelings and sounds.”

“Oh, yeah sure.”

“And when you talk to me, the sound of your voice just feels… familiar,” she said. “And I know I’ve never heard someone with a voice like yours before because it’s very-.”

“Annoying, I know,” he sighed as though embarrassed. “I hear the scouts talk about it all the time I’m trying to-.”

“No, not at all,” she cut him off. “No, I think it’s nice. It’s very unique is what I wanted to say. Like at Grom it was like my mind was racing trying to place it trying to connect it. The way it does when you hear part of a song you know you like but you don’t know the name. The way I feel when I smell a flower I’ve only ever smelled before in a bigger garden. ”

“Oh,” was all he could say. He had never had someone genuinely like his voice, let alone compare any aspect of him to a flower or a song .

“So even though I can’t remember things we did or things we said, I think I somehow can remember the way you made me feel,” she said. “I don’t think we got that far in the lesson so I’m not sure how it’s possible but I just… feel like I know you.’

“Is it… a good feeling?” He hesitated to ask.

She smiled and reached out to take his hand. “It’s a very good feeling,” she said.

He looked down at their hands and as much as everything about it made his heart race in elation, a twinge of guilt made its way through as memories he tried to forget bubbled up to the surface.

He sighed. This was the part he was dreading, this is what made coming back to her so hard. “It’s just…things have changed.”

“Yeah, but they’d change anyway,” she shrugged.

“But what if…” he hated himself for what he was about to say. “What if you’re better off without me?”

“What?”

“I mean, I dunno,” he removed his hand from hers and wrung his together, trying to delay the panic the realization brought with it. “W-what if I would’ve held you back? Or distracted you? I mean you’re so amazing and talented and people are always saying I’m in the way, what if I got in the way of you realizing your potential?”

“Hunter,” she couldn’t help but chuckle, considering the fact that she had just shown her a core memory that had started her rise to the top of her track that directly involved him. But he continued to rant.

“I-I mean whose to say I wouldn’t have ruined things eventually? I mean, you were always helping me and listening to me but why would I just assume that I was as important to you as you are to me-.”

“Hunter…”

“I mean, what if the enemies of the coven try to put your life in danger because of how they feel about me? Not to mention the Blight girl told me to stay away from you-.”

“Wait, what?”

Hunter’s words caught up with him and he was just too on a roll to not explain himself further.

“We had a… run in at Exclipe Lake,” he said. “She said I was a lot like her, and that you and her weren’t on the best terms. I mean, I figured that from the fact that she set your mind on fire. But she said that I would make your life complicated, that I might hurt you even if I didn’t mean to. And I … I don’t want to do that..”

“She thought you would hurt me?”

“I would never try to!” He said in a panic. “But I know what she means, the younger Blight and I have certain expectations to fill. My responsibilities nearly put you in danger, this wasn’t the first time. I should have realized I couldn’t change that.”

Willow’s hands balled into fists at her sides, thorny vines rose from the ground as though preparing to strike. “Did she say…” Willow took a deep breath and tried to steady her voice. “Did she say you shouldn’t be in my life?”

“Not in so many words,” Hunter admitted. He knew the youngest Blight had history with Willow, he knew she knew her better than maybe he ever could. He had to entertain the possibility that she was right about him. “But the evidence… is pretty compelling.”

“I see,” Willow said softly.

After all this time, after everything that’s happened… she still thinks I’m weak. She thinks I’m foolish, that I can’t handle getting hurt. I can’t make my own choices. She thinks she knows better. She doesn’t see that she’s being a total hypocrite. After everything I’ve done to support her and Luz despite how uncomfortable it made me, despite how it stung, despite how I’m still not sure if Amity would work as hard as Hunter had to come back into my life had Luz not landed on the Isles. But once again, what does it matter what I want? Had Amity been behind everyone keeping Hunter from her? Why had they not tried harder to help him?

Because once again, Amity is deciding who can and can’t be in my life.

“So… I want you to decide,” he said. “And I’ll accept whatever decision you make, good and or indifferent. I’ll tell you whatever you want or know and if you decide your life is better without me… I won’t intervene. I just… I had to try. I at least wanted to see you one last time.”

Willow’s eyes darted back up to him, this boy so certain and uncertain at the same time. He was willing to fight for her, he trusted her, he knew her.

He wanted her.

Maybe it was stupid and soon and impulsive and reckless but when his waiting eyes called out to her, they drew her in with such a force that even the Titan themself could not hold her back. The next thing she knew, Hunter’s face was squished between her hands, his ears wiggling and his face crimson as Willow committed the expression to memory and took one final breath before pressing her lips to his. He quickly melted into the contact, somehow knowing to place his hand on her cheek as he pulled her closer to make sure this was real, that she was finally real again. As she felt his lips form a timid smile, Willow knew the sensation was new but the excitement was undoubtedly familiar.

[thewriterg]

𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬

pairing(s): jj maybank x gn!reader, pope heyward x gn!reader

summary: You lived for the moments you spent with your boyfriends the parties and the treasure hunting was nice but nothing beat the warm nostalgia of tangled limbs and sweet kisses in the bed bathing in the obx sun

word count: 500+

request: Hi, so some time ago I read your imagine between Pope, JJ and reader and I just thought it was incredible, because most of the time a poly couple is shown, it's two people giving love to one person, yours already showed the love between the three <3 So in that same JJ x Pope x reader dynamic, imagine where they're just in bed, just woken up from an afternoon nap and are simply cuddling in the warmth of the covers. Thank you, bye- @lovers-rockkk

warning(s): fluff, kisses, sweet short domestic, pet names, polyamory themes, and I think like one swear word

A/n: —GIF;— I can not tell you how happy it makes me when someone notices the few extra steps I to take to make my fics better thank you for the appreciation love it made me feel great <3 Also I have a surprise for you guys at the end of this so read all the way through!!!

You felt yourself begin to stir the feeling of the sun engulfing your figure that wasn’t covered by the duvet of your bed gave you a welcoming invite to blink the sleep from your eyes but you were quickly met with admiring brown eyes staring back at you

“Well good morning” You softly smiled voice soft and raspy from sleep as you stared at the rich skinned boy in front of you immediately throwing an arm over his slim waist you often teased him with your compliments it made his face hot and he was often bashful when you said the things you did especially about his toned stomach

“my pretty baby and his little waist”

“men and their slutty waist”

“we’ll look at you” you said while wrapping your around his torso pressing your face against his back

“Morning dove” Popes voice was almost the same as yours, raspy but it was less than normal letting you know he was probably up for a while before you silently moved not wanting to wake up the blonde next to you to straddle the brunettes lap as he watched you with a small smile as the sun kissed you through the blinds

You leaned down on Popes chest your bottom half still resting on his lap as you prepped small fluttering kisses on his neck traveling to his jaw as his warm hands traveled over your hips and lower back

You both stayed like that for a wild sun and love drunk In each others embrace warm and comfortable no worries of the outside world just yet… no gold, no running for your life, no gunshots, no pogues just them.

“Did you save any for me? You guys are mean” JJ groaned out a whine stretching as you both looked over to the blonde who were barely awake looking and searching for affection and you smirked widely while Pope chuckled quietly under you

“Come on Goldie” You couldn’t conceal the smile from your face while the dark skinned boy under you opened his arm out to take the blonde in and JJs ears perked up at the familiar nickname not wasting a second to crash into Popes side as he playfully groaned before kissing his temple

You sprawled out on top of them both with a over exaggerated sigh as the both chuckled before pressing a kiss to the corners of blondes mouth as he lied there in content letting you continue your acts of assault kisses to his face as you did Pope

“I think we should just stay in, hell we can put John B on hold for a day” The pale spoke up breaking the peaceful silence that fell over you all after you had settled and you hummed in agreement while Pope turned to scoop you both up in his arms a sigh that leaving the bed soon was very unlikely

You would forever persevere the love in these moments

💌💌💌💌

So I’ve started a book on Wattpad! It’s called “don’t go chasing waterfalls”

Its about a girl named Bonnie Sonnet and her group of friends follow the conflict and consequences after leaving Pouglandia in search for El dorado. How will her two certain best friends react when she makes empty promises for when this is all over? They were destined to make her keep said promises.

JJ and Pope are both love interests while also pinning over each other so if you like fics like these you’d definitely like it so you should check it out!

[ckret2]

Chapter 68 of human Bill Cipher not looking much like the Mystery Shack's prisoner because he's just vibing on the porch: Mabel's riding high on the success of making Bill two whole friends, Ford's dealing with curses... and let's see how that camera got cursed in the first place.

####

Mabel asked, "What about Aaron Laarson?"

"I don't know," Candy said, "Aaron is cute, but he isn't a very good dancer. That's very important to me in a teen pop idol."

"He's a really good actor, though," Grenda said. "You should see him in Hot Models 2: Runway Boogaloo!" Candy looked thoughtful.

They'd spent the last thirty minutes chattering, with Grenda and Candy sitting on Bill, who was now laying his upper body on the couch cushion he'd been assaulted with earlier but otherwise hadn't moved. To all appearances, Bill was sound asleep—he even breathed like he was asleep—but every once in a while, he'd pipe up with something like, "Don't get too attached to Aaron Laarson. He's dying in a kayaking accident next summer."

Grenda groaned in disappointment. Candy said, "He should have spent that time practicing dancing instead of kayaking."

Mabel caught movement in the corner of her eye, and started when she saw Ford and Dipper. "Uh oh. I didn't expect them to come in on this side of the house."

Across the clearing, Ford shouted, "Mabel, what the devil is he doing outside with—!"

Mabel shouted, "It's okaaay, I got permission from Grunkle Staaan, I love yooou!"

Ford hesitated. "Well... if Stan okayed it."

Dipper looked at Mabel and her camera. Mabel looked at Dipper and his camera. They immediately started making the stupidest faces they could at each other's cameras. "Hey," Mabel said, "did you find the nightwigglies? It looks like they found yooou!"

Dipper self-consciously tugged up the vest he was using like a makeshift skirt. "We did! It was so great, we recorded some kind of ritual dance, how they make babies—" At Grenda's outburst of "Ewww!" he quickly clarified, "Not—not in a gross way—and we saw some kind of Nightwiggler god! It was amazing!"

"Wow! That's great!" Mabel said. "We summoned a demon and almost died."

"What?"

"By the way!" Mabel waved her camera at Ford. "Grunkle Ford, I kiiinda used your cursed camera by accident. Could you please uncurse the tape so I can keep the episode I filmed tonight? Goldie said the magic thingy he stuck on it will only keep it tame as long as the tape's in the camera."

"That's because it's technically the tape itself that's cursed, not the camera." Ford wondered if Bill had led Mabel to the camera.

"Can you uncurse it, though?"

"I think so. I'll see what I can do." Ford took the camera from Mabel. He decided not to comment on the girls' interesting makeup choices.

Bill opened one eye a sliver as he felt Ford and Dipper step on the porch, saw Ford's bare calf over his boot, and cracked up. "What happened to your pants! Did you try to join the Hokey Pokey?"

Ford gave Bill a withering look—caught sight of Bill's mismatched tween-girl-pencil-case/airbrushed-hot-rod eyeshadow, and laughed in surprise. "What happened to your face?"

"Aren't I beautiful?" Bill asked, lacing his hands under his chin (and making Ford snort again when he spied the multiple nail extensions on one hand). "Go on! Tell me I'm beautiful. I know I am."

"You're..." Ford was keenly aware that Mabel and her friends were probably behind this makeover, "...certainly colorful."

"Stanford, you flatterer!" Bill cackled.

Dipper headed inside, yawning. "I'm gonna... go to sleep or something."

That was a good idea; but Ford was hesitant to go in. He was loath to trust Bill unsupervised alone with a couple of vulnerable children, with no one to keep him in check but another child he'd already manipulated into helping him escape once.

But who was Ford to judge. Bill had manipulated him into helping him escape, too. He supposed Mabel could handle him as well as anyone else.

Grenda said, "I think we should watch Hot Models 2 anyway! It's got lots of cute boys! And girls, I guess." She turned to Bill. "Hey, do you like girls or boys?"

"Sometimes," Bill said. "Sure, I'm up for it. It's a pretty good satire of Big Fashion and I like the runway fight scene with the big light show."

To Ford, all Bill seemed to be doing was talking about movies, wearing stupid makeup, and being a chair for a couple of kids. It was so... normal.

It was something a person would do.

Ford made himself go inside. Maybe he'd start work on uncursing that tape for Mabel before he went to bed.

####

Bill had written a magic-negation seal on the back of a crumpled Mystery Shack receipt and attached it to the camcorder with an X of clear tape. Ford had only used that seal twice in his life. Once, thirty years ago, when Bill had taught it to him. And once last fall, when Ford had attempted to draw it in the Book of Bill to prevent its anomalous effects. Bill's book had absorbed the seal into its page until it disappeared—then burped. At least the symbol still seemed to work on the camcorder.

Ford tried to rewind the tape to the beginning; something inside the camcorder caught and made a nasty sound. He grimaced and hit the stop button. That wasn't good. He carefully peeled off the magic-negation seal, popped the cassette tape out of the camera, and examined it. 

He pushed up the cassette's guard panel, but where there should have been a strip of magnetic tape running beneath it, there was nothing. The tape must have snapped. As he tried to inspect the damage, the cassette jumped and rattled in his hand, trying to snap the guard panel shut on his finger like it wanted to bite him.

"Stop that," Ford chided. "I'm trying to repair you." Would it listen? In his experience, objects animated by this particular curse tended to be consistently hostile. He might need to re-seal it.

To his surprise, the tape settled down sedately on his desk. That was more like it.

"Can you unreel the damaged ends of your tape?" If it could, that would save him the effort of disassembling the thing entirely.

After a short pause, the cassette flipped up its guard panel and extended two ends of broken tape.

"Thank you."

It looked like something had... burned? melted the tape? But what? The video cassette's casing was completely undamaged, how had something managed only to burn the tape inside?

Ford snipped off the damaged ends of the tape, used a little strip of masking tape to connect them back together, and carefully rewound the tape a few seconds with a pen. This was only a temporary repair; he'd have to transfer the contents of this cassette to an undamaged one. Mabel would probably want it digitized so she could make her video, too. But watching a few seconds wouldn't destroy it; and he wanted to know whether the camera had recorded whatever damaged the tape.

He carefully removed the smallest of Project Mentem's undamaged monitors, moved it to his worktable, plugged in a VHS-C player, and slid the cassette in.

As he started to play back the recording—the first thing on the screen was one of Mabel's terrified-looking friends—the monitor trembled and jumped, banging heavily as it landed back on Ford's worktable.

"Oh, behave." Ford peeled the magic-negating seal off the camcorder and slapped it on the TV. It immediately stilled. Some gratitude for repairing that tape.

When Ford turned his attention back to the screen, Mabel's friend's face had been replaced by Bill's, his curls filling the edges of the screen.

"Gold-O! You came back!" "Hey, Grend-O. Sorry for the wait..."

As Ford watched, Bill grappled with the camera, eventually managed to get a grip on it, and stared it down with nearly enough fury to make Ford forget the goofy eyeshadow. "Now let's get this straight. Everything beneath this shack's roof is my domain and under my protection! If you want to hurt anyone here—you'll have to get through m—"

The scene cut straight to Mabel's face as it skipped over the damaged section he'd had to cut out. "Welcome back to Mabel's Guide to Secret Sleepovers! Weee're—"

Ford stopped the tape. Huh.

Huh.

####

As soon as Candy and Grenda were gone, Mabel flung her arms around Bill. "Thank you for being nice to my friends," she said. "Especially Grenda. I'm so glad you liked them both after all!"

Liked them? He'd been a charming host to them, but. "Did I?"

"Yes," Mabel informed him firmly. "You did."

Well, he figured he must've, then. And Grenda had grown on him. She'd complimented his eyes, she admired gross things, she had very intelligent opinions on amphibians in general and axolotls in particular... "Hey, any friend of my friend is a friend of mine!"

"That's so much better than what I was trying to say." Mabel let go of him, beaming. "Wanna hang out with them again sometime?"

"Sure!" Bill said, shrugging. "We still have to watch some dumb action comedy movies."

"Great! I'll let them know the next sleepover's over here!" She ran upstairs.

Calling her friends to arrange the next sleepover before they'd even gotten home. Yeah—that was generally how Bill planned his parties, too.

Looked like his social circle for the foreseeable future consisted of three little girls. Wasn't ideal, but he could work with that. He'd always liked getting invited to girls' nights. And maybe at future sleepovers he could talk the kids into some real fun. When they weren't trying to keep quiet, he knew, they fed off each other's chaos. And he was sure there was a budding pyromaniac lurking in Candy's heart.

####

Ford nodded as he passed Stan in the entryway. "Just getting up?"

"Yep. Just going to bed?"

Ford shrugged ruefully. "Afraid so. We got some terrific footage last night, though."

"Oh, yeah? Anything sellable?"

"That's up to Dipper, but I think there's good potential. Bare minimum, I'd bet some cryptozoology documentaries would be interested in his findings."

"Hey, all right! Not bad for a night's work." Stan passed by, headed for the bathroom.

And Ford almost headed on to the guest bedroom—but, reluctantly made himself turn toward the kitchen.

Bill was sitting at the table, sipping at a can of cider with an empty one already on the table in front of him, staring out the window at the morning. He didn't usually drink that heavily this early; it probably meant he was heading to bed soon. The girls must have kept him up all night. Dipper had regaled Ford with tales of what Mabel's sleepovers were like.

"Bill."

"Hm?"

He should have gotten straight to business. Instead, he said, "I watched some of Mabel's video from last night."

Bill glanced over at him. (He still had that ridiculous makeup.) "Oh, yeah?"

Under my protection. Did he consider himself the household's guardian—or its owner? "I..." Ford cleared his throat. "I wondered about—the symbol you painted on your hand to disable the camera. That part of the tape melted, and—I assume it was light-activated, which means it must be different from the seal I already know, so...?"

Bill's face had immediately closed off. He turned away. "You're not my student."

Ford was surprised at how much that felt like a slap to the face. He should have been glad—he'd finally managed to get Bill to agree with what he'd been telling him all summer—but he hadn't expected Bill to ever give up. (He hadn't expected Bill to ever change.)

But he probably hadn't really given up. No doubt he was giving Ford the cold shoulder to see if he begged Bill's forgiveness.

"No. I suppose I'm not." He trudged into the kitchen, rummaged in his coat pocket, and dropped a leather pouch on the table. "Anyway, I'm just here to drop this off."

Bill reached for it, stopped himself, and warily asked, "What is it?"

"The rest of my nutrition pills from my interdimensional travels." When he'd lost his trench coat to the lake during the eclipse last week, he'd had to dig out the old tattered one he'd worn during his travels, and he'd happened to find his pills at the same time. It had occurred to him to bring them up while he was working on Mabel's tape. They were tricky to synthesize, but they lasted forever and the ingredients could be found in almost any dimension—whether there was anything otherwise edible for humans or not. 

Bill eyed him suspiciously; but he opened the pouch's snap and peeked into the resealable plastic bag. They didn't look like "pills" so much as small balls of incredibly dense dark brown bread, each about the size of a wad of bubblegum. "Whyyy?"

"To make up the difference in your diet until we figure out the food problem," Ford said. "They're formulated so that four a day meets a human's... well, meets my nutritional needs. I haven't looked into your..." vague gesture, "body... type."

"Is this your emergency stash?"

"It... was." Stan had persuaded Ford to get back onto normal food (as much of a waste of time as it was), but he still had this stash left.

"Why are you giving me your emergency stash."

"Because... I'm not having an emergency and you are?" It was better than a couple of avocados and some hot sauce. Honestly, he should have thought to go looking for his nutrition pills weeks ago. If he'd realized just how severe they'd made Bill's situation... or how stubborn Bill would be about asking for help... or that they'd ever plan to keep Bill around long enough that his nutrition would be an issue.

Bill squinted at him, and for a moment Ford thought he was about to start a fight for some insane reason; but then the air seemed to leak out of him, his shoulders sagged, and he just looked at the nutrition pills. "For starters, they'll need more than twice as much iron."

"That much?"

"And more vitamin D, I don't remember the numbers right now." He shut the pouch, sat back, and lifted his cider can again. "All right."

All right? Ford supposed that was all he was getting. He turned to go.

As he did, Bill said, "Bed?"

Ford glanced back. "Yes?"

"Fine," Bill said. "Have nightmares."

He couldn't help letting out a laugh. "Fine. You too."

"It's too late for you to start trying to sweet-talk me like that, Stanford Pines!" But he tilted his can toward Ford—cheers—chugged down the rest, and cracked open a third.

####

Dipper was already in bed when Mabel charged in. He rolled over slightly, saw she was still in her sleepover pajamas, and mumbled, "Going to sleep too?"

She rummaged around in the closet by the door. "I can't waste that kind of time!" She retrieved a shoe box full of the wooden models of the townspeople she'd crudely whittled last summer at a library arts & crafts program run by Wendy's dad. She dumped them out on the floor, and, for lack of a figure representing Bill, tore a corner off a stray sheet of notebook paper and drew his eye on it. "I've got to capitalize on last night's success!"

She snatched her pyramid prism off the windowsill and taped the paper eye on it. "Hey, you." She poked Bartholomew's cradle. "Why were you a big chicken in front of my friends?"

"What, with you waving that camera around?" Bartholomew said. "I didn't want it to know I have a soul to steal."

"You knew?! You jerk!" She gave the cradle a harder poke, rocking it slightly.

Dipper yawned. "Capitalize on what success? The demon summoning?"

"No! Helping Bill make two new friends!" Mabel sat on the floor, plopped the Bill prism down amidst the other wooden figures, and started setting them upright. Waddles waddled over to sniff at them.

"Oh." Dipper groaned and rolled back over.

"The next stage of his rehabilitation is expanding his social circle. Get him some normal friends that don't want to eat people or destroy moons or whatever!" She grabbed up the notebook paper again, tore it into sections, and wrote on each with the nearest gel pen: "Friends!!!" "Maybe" "NO" "Healthy ☆ Rivals" "♡ Potential dates? ♡" She added thoughtfully, "And maybe get him a love life. We had to chase off his last girlfriend."

Dipper groaned louder. "I don't wanna think about Bill dating. That dumb eye-bat was bad enough."

"She's not dumb, she's into avant-garde experimental films. And she watches them with subtitles. Bill said so." She placed her, Grenda's, and Candy's figures in the Friends section, tentatively placed Dipper halfway between Maybe and No after checking to make sure he wasn't watching, and then started scanning her collection for more likely friends. "Who in town do you think would date Bill Cipher?"

"Nobody. Everyone hates him."

She stuck Wendy and her gang in the "Friends!!!" section, she thought they were a safe bet. "Who do you think would date Bill if they don't know he's Bill?"

"Nobody." Dipper pulled his blanket over his head.

"Pbbt, don't be so negative! You've gotta believe in him." Blubs and Durland? They were probably his friends, right? She sorted them accordingly and added Lazy Susan to the "Maybe" section. "Just you watch. I'll have Bill reintegrated into society before the end of the summer!"

Mabel had picked out several more prospective friends for Bill before Dipper sighed, rolled over again, and said, "Why do you have to make friends for Bill?"

"Bro. Come on. When he's left to his own devices, he keeps talking about pulling people's veins out of their bodies or telling them secret information about their own childhoods. He's probably talking about something creepy right now."

####

"I'm telling you," Bill said, gesticulating emphatically with a cider can. "It works. Your cousins will never argue with you again, and you guarantee they'll be with you forever! It's the perfect way to permanently resolve family disputes!"

"I can see your logic," Stan said, grimacing. "However. I'm not eating my cousins."

"Not all your cousins," Bill insisted. "Just one, to send a message. You don't even need to eat the whole guy! Just half a limb or so. If you want to look like the bigger man, you can even let him choose which one."

Looking faintly nauseous, Stan shoved over his unfinished eggs and pancakes and stood. "What the heck was your home life like?"

"Oh, it was terrific. I was the family golden child." Bill dug into Stan's eggs. "I was everything your family hoped you'd be and was disappointed you weren't!" 

"Was that before or after you started eating your cousins?"

"I didn't say I did it. That's your species' thing." Bill said, with a lofty tone that suggested moral superiority, "We'reinedible."

"Ha!" Stan shook his head. "You talk a big game for a guy who's never eaten one family member!"

Bill snapped the tab off his cider can and flipped it at Stan's head.

####

"He's delightful, but he's an acquired taste," Mabel said. "He just needs somebody else to help mediate when he meets new people! Like letting two cats sniff each other under the door!"

"Okay, but why you?"

She thought about that, staring at the pyramid representing Bill; then she shrugged. "Somebody has to."

"They really don't."

"Somebody should," Mabel insisted. "I just really want to see him make friends with everybody here. It's like... making it up to the town for hurting them last year."

"I think leaving them alone would work better. After what he did, he doesn't deserve to be friends with anyone in town—"

"It's important to me, okay?" Mabel snapped. "It just is."

What was that for? Did she think he was criticizing her for befriending him? He mumbled, "I didn't mean you."

She was quiet a moment. "I know." 

"Sorry." Dipper was too tired for this conversation; he was just sticking his foot in his mouth. He yawned, muttered, "Good luck scheduling him a playdate, I guess," and rolled over.

####

After sleep and lunch, Ford returned to his study, set up a second blank video cassette to copy the damaged one's data, carefully rewound the damaged one all the way to the beginning, and watched it for the first time in over thirty years.

The recording was grainy and distorted now. It looked so old. This technology had been brand new when Ford had bought his video camera—so new that he'd had to order it from overseas, it hadn't been available in the United States yet. How quickly things changed.

The camera turned to take in Ford's own, younger, beaming face. "This is Dr. Stanford Pines, with the first of what will hopefully be many video recordings of the oddities in Gravity Falls." (In the present, Ford snorted.) "The subject of this first video is a series of magic symbols that, when combined, can animate inanimate objects. Any inanimate object."

He turned the camera around. Like a vampire's morbid pulpit, one of Ford's journals was laid open atop the lid of a black casket. Two heavy chains were laid across each side of the book and locked around the casket's handles to keep them tightly secured. A couple dozen pages in the middle of the book had been left free of the chains, but were pinned down by a cinderblock.

All the security measures were clearly needed; the book was thrashing in its restraints strongly enough to make the casket lid rattle. The visible text writhed across the journal's pages, words and symbols appearing and disappearing in the margins. The susurrations of the pages rubbing against each other sounded like the hissing of a trapped animal.

Ford tipped the cinderblock off the journal and pinned the pages down with his shoe instead. "Several days ago, a local director taught me the spell he used to animate clay figures for his movies. I'd thought perhaps he was creating golems, but aside from the superficial similarity of writing symbols to animate figures of mud, there doesn't seem to be any similarity between his ritual and any golem folklore I've ever heard. Furthermore, his creations are intelligent, capable of speech, and seem to remain loyal to their creator simply out of a passion for acting and respect for his directorial talents rather than any sort of magically-compelled loyalty." A wry note entered his voice. "And I can confirm that the spell itself certainly doesn't impart any loyalty."

 The page below his foot erased itself and replaced the text with large, angry text: "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO EARN MY LOYALTY?! YOU DOG EAR MY PAGES! YOU USE ME AS A CHOPPING BOARD!"

"Wh—! Who do you think you are, a Sefer Torah?! Don't be so precious! You're made of faux leather and craft paper, I'll dog ear you all I want!" Ford snapped. "And I already apologized for the chopping board thing!"

The journal stopped moving. "My cover isn't real leather?"

"On my budget?! The closest you've ever come to real cow hide is visiting the Sprott farm!"

While the journal was stunned silent, Ford scooted his foot aside so the camcorder could see a symbol on the opposite page—one of the few bits of ink that didn't seem to shift around the journal's pages. "This is the symbol the director taught me. But it's only supposed to work if you perform an accompanying ritual to activate and power it, which I haven't." He reached down with a gloved hand to flip the loose pages over, then pinned them again under his shoe to let him record another symbol. "This symbol is supposed to power magical artifacts. I suspect writing both these sigils together in the same book has caused them to interact in unexpected ways. But, by themselves, these two are insufficient to bring a book to life—I experimented by copying them both into Journal 1—so perhaps some of the other symbols or spells written in Journal 2 are contributing to—"

"WHAT?!" Journal 2 angrily scrawled around the perimeter of the second symbol. "You tried to bring that teacher's pet to life?! What's wrong with ME!"

"You mean, besides your completely uncooperative attitude, reckless abuse of magic, and murder attempts?" Ford ignored the journal's angry "shouting" as he went on, "But until I figure out what the other symbols are, my... anonymous informant on the occult—"

"You don't mean Creature #326? Tell me it's not Creature #326!"

"—has taught me a sigil that should be able to reverse the effects of the animation spell—"

A series of magical sigils flashed across the journal's page and were quickly replaced by "HA-HA-HA!" The camera shuddered.

"What was that?!" Ford set the camera on the casket where it could watch as he tried to pin down Journal 2's fluttering pages and write on it. "We'll see who's laughing in a minute, you— Stop erasing what I write!" Ford tugged out a sticky note that had been serving as bookmark, hastily scribbled on it, and slapped it into the journal. "Ha!"

The book immediately fell still.

Ford grabbed up a tape dispenser from the floor, pulled off a short strip, and attached the sticky note more securely to the page. "Well. That was effective." He flipped through the journal. "Furthermore, it looks like all the changes Journal 2 made to itself have been reverted. Good. It defaced a lot of data I'd hate to have to reproduce..." As he spoke, the camera slowly rose into the air.

He turned to pick it up, flinched, and quickly got to his feet. "Oh! Uh. Hello."

"Hello," the camera echoed in Ford's voice.

"How did you...?" Ford smacked his forehead, eyes wide with amazement! "Of course! My recording! The symbols my journal wrote! This is fascinating. Recording the symbols on magnetic tape must be just as effective as writing them on paper, even if the symbols aren't visible without specialized equipment. I'll have to experiment with other methods of... of..." Ford petered off as the camera slowly floated higher. He held out a hand hopefully. "Please come back?"

"No," the camera said. "Please give me your soul."

"No." Ford took a deep breath, set Journal 2 on the casket, and flexed his fingers. "Okay. Let's do this again."

As the Ford of thirty-odd years ago wrestled with the camera on the TV screen, the much older Ford sighed. That had been fun. Exploring the bizarre and aberrant had still been fun, back then. That thought disconcerted him; was it no longer fun now? He supposed it still was to an extent. He was just worse at having fun. Harder to dazzle.

He wondered why Journal 2 had been so wary of Creature #326. Bill. It had been right, he was Ford's "anonymous informant"—Ford had told him about his hostile new living journal in a dream, and after Bill had finished laughing, he'd taught Ford how to counteract the spell activating it.

But how did it know?

Could it have warned him about Bill?

Ford would never find out now.

The TV went dark as, in the recording, Ford trapped the camera inside a box. Slightly muffled, Ford said, "Try getting out of that!" Under his breath, he muttered, "I think I prefer writing over narrating anyway."

The screen remained dark for another ten seconds as the camera bumped around and muttered to itself. And then it abruptly cut to a shot of Dipper's bed. Off-screen, Mabel's voice said, "Awesome, still works!" She set the camera on the table under the kids' window—

That was what Ford was looking for. He rewound several seconds and began transferring the recording of Mabel's sleepover onto a fresh tape he'd prepared earlier.

After that, maybe he'd go back to the start again so he could see the other symbols Journal 2 had flashed at the camera and copy them into Journal 5—onto a page already prepared with the magic-negating seal.

####

In the Nightmare Realm, a red book with a golden handprint on the cover boldly labeled "2" floated alone in the void, as it had since it had been tossed in the bottomless pit a year ago.

Its tattered pages were splayed open as it drifted weightlessly through the aether.

On one page near the center of the book, a sticky note with a seal drawn on it was attached to the page with a strip of tape, and surrounded by a warning never to erase the symbol on the sticky note.

The tape had lost its stick after decades buried outdoors; it stuck to the sticky note, but not to the book. The sticky note was barely holding on by a corner.

And as the book slowly wheeled through the void, the last corner peeled off, and the sticky note fluttered away.

Journal 2's pages rustled.

####

(I think y'all who have been keeping up with my posts about this fic know exactly what's coming next. 😎

Thaaat's right. 😎😎

An unrelated flashback chapter!!!

Anyway hope y'all enjoyed, let me know what you think!)

[not-goldy]

Goldy I woke up today & it hit me. I've been kinda down since enlistment cause I miss Jikook, but there I was driving, blue skies, fluffy white clouds, windows down, blasting music & it hit me even tho I miss Jikook, I have something antis/tkk don't & that is PEACE. Something antis not had since Chapter 2 & been yanking their grey hair out over ever since & unable to be happy & enjoy anything. See, they tell themselves Chapter 2 showed the real close duos, but in reality, Chapter 2 knocked their delusional lights out. Between Paris, Tae/Jennie and Jikook's Silver Day date, Letter together, dedicated lives, their private ALONE trips, possible travel show & now Jikook enlisting together, its been a non-peaceful year for antis. Tae ruined their delusions when he went to Paris to be with Jennie & confirmed all those hacker leaks were real. Then Jikook ruined their Thanksgiving by traveling to Tokyo together & had them crying in their cranberry sauce. Then hit them with enlisting TOGETHER right before Christmas & they couldn't even enjoy opening their stockings full of coal. No matter what Jikook are to each other. I sleep at night & wake up knowing Jikook are together. When I get worried about them in there, I remember they have each other. Antis can't do that.

So no matter why Jikook chose to do what they did regarding each other at the start of Chapter 2 or where Jikook go from after MS. I'll remember when it came down to facing military hell, one of the biggest challenges they'll ever face in their life, that they let their walls down & bravely showed all their haters that they chose each other to get through it with together & NO ONE ELSE. Something BOTH of them have expressed gratitude about recently, when it comes to the other being there with him. Anything else said about their relationship, what it is or isn't, is just outside noise & conspiracy theories. What I know for sure is at this moment Jikook are together by choice & mutually happy about their decision. That is all I need to know. And in the words of Jk, are you jealous, keep being jealous, Jk will keep being with his Jiminie every day until mid 2025, blubblluulblllul.

Now, I'm gonna go hop in my car again, roll the windows down, blast Letter & sing at the top of my lungs, they see me rollin' they hatin' my music so loud & just soak in the peace of mind knowing Jikook are there for each other right now & not letting their haters affect them, therefore I won't let their haters affect me.

Frankly you have more than peace- you have also the beautiful memories of two of the most beautiful human beings on earth and the memories of seven boys enjoying their lives and bringing us along that journey.

Forget the hyper sexualized edits and innuendos, Forget the goofy dorky personalities they both have, Forget that they are bandmates- you have the making a fairytale of pure love pure friendship and the gift of the greatest love story unfolding before your eyes in real time.

If all I had to my ship was a couple hip thrusts at a 45 degree angle, a few dirty jokes, a love story I had to jump through hoops to connect and toxicity I'll be so miserable as a human being.

I'll always be grateful to Jikook for this one in a lifetime experience. If it's a fantasy they made my fantasies come through

Love jikook and love you too babes💜🌈

[rorywritesjunk]

Down in the dark where the waves won’t go, I’m bound to find my way.

Sunny and Buggy disagree over the next steps of their life together leading to them spending time apart.

Rating: PG-13 to be safe for swearing and arguing. Warning: Each chapter will have a specific warning. Epilogue!!! Happy ending!!! AAAA!! Word Count: 2,111 A/N: The direct sequel to "No locked upon land...", the fic that started it all. I do not use "You" in this as now that Sunny is an established OC I decided not to go that route. The ending!! Happy!! Also I'm of the belief that you never remember every person you've ever met in your life. You may cross paths multiple times and not realize it. Hence how I chose to end this. Thank you for reading this! It was fun and painful and great to write!

Title comes from "Sailing Song" by S.J. Tucker

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 + Chapter 9 + Chapter 10 + Epilogue Taglist: @hey-august @lostfirefly @ane5e

Epilogue

It was weird sleeping in but Buggy insisted on it the night before. He said he would get the baby up and even make breakfast (she wasn't too sure on that part) but that she deserved to sleep in. The last year had been hard on them, from the fights to their brief separation to Sunny telling Buggy she was pregnant. She never saw him fall to pieces so quickly before until that moment. 

He had been shocked into silence for just a few minutes before he shrieked and rushed to go tell the crew, leaving Sunny behind in the pantry. She could hear the excited cheers from the crew. Apparently they were just as excited as their captain.

“Shh, shh, why are you fussing? You're not supposed to fuss when daddy carries you! It's not flashy!”

She cracked an eye open and looked over towards the door. Buggy held Gold against his chest while carrying a tray of food with his hands out in front of him. The baby was fussy even though Buggy was trying his best to calm him.

“Gold, buddy, come on, Mama's sleeping and you're gonna wake her up.” He huffed softly as he tried his best to soothe him. “I already changed you and you didn't want the mush she made you last night, so what do you want?”

She grinned and burrowed herself under the covers. She'd let him suffer a bit more. He didn't have to carry a baby for 9 months or spend over 30 hours in labor. All he did was cry when the baby was finally born and he finally saw his son with his little fluffy blonde hair and little red nose.

“Goldie, kiddo, you're killing me here.” Buggy whined. Sunny sighed and finally rolled over to face them, only to burst out laughing at the sight of her husband covered in flour, eggs, and she was pretty sure there was some jam in his hair. He glared at her as he set the tray on the bed and passed her the baby. Gold’s eyes lit up and he was happy to snuggle in her arms. She kissed him on the forehead and smiled. 

“You okay there, Buggy?”

“I cooked you breakfast!” He told her. “The skillet was too hot and I burned my fingers, and then the water boiled over when I made your tea. The eggs spilled onto the two of us so I had to change Gold again and then he sneezed as I had a scoop of flour and it got everywhere.”

Sunny distracted herself by looking at the tray of food and tried not to erupt into giggles. The piece of toast seemed to have a little hand print in the jam. She looked back at Buggy as he scooted himself into bed beside her and took a bite of the toast.

“Honey, you have jam in your hair.” She pointed out. He groaned and slumped against her as Gold watched his daddy curiously. “There's a little hand print in the jam…”

“He grabbed my hair at one point.” Buggy whined. “I didn't realize he had sticky fingers! Babe, I just washed my hair!”

She kissed the top of Buggy’s head and smiled. “You're a good dad.”

He lifted his head up just enough to look into her eyes as he pouted at her. Dealing with a sticky baby from time to time was something Buggy still couldn't handle. Everything else? Whatever, he could deal with diapers and spit up, but for some reason anything sticky like jam had Buggy wanting to have a meltdown over it. 

“Can I go wash my hair?” He whined softly.

“Yes, honey.” She told him as he started to get up. “Thank you for breakfast and for getting the baby ready.”

Buggy looked at her funny and shrugged. “I'm his dad, it's my job to look after him.”

“Yea-”

“I don't care what your family thinks should happen. He's my kid, I am going to raise him. It's not all on you, babe.” Buggy told her as he went to look at himself in the mirror. Maybe he didn't need to wash all of his hair, just that section of it. “The idea that I'm babysitting my own kid is shit and if your aunts and uncles say anything then I'll say something back!”

Sunny doubted he would say anything but she wouldn't discourage him. She loved him even more now after seeing him take care of Gold. Buggy almost always had his son in his arms or near him when he was working. The only time Sunny saw the baby was when it was feeding time. 

“I love you, Buggy.” She told him as he tried to wash the sticky jam out of his hair. He looked back at her curiously before grinning widely at her.

“How could you not?” He asked as he winked at her. “I'm the greatest husband and dad in all the sea, babe!”

~*~

He didn't mean to get lost again.

Buggy had only taken a few steps away from the first mate to look at something when a crowd walked by and he was by himself. Where did Rayleigh end up? This was his second time getting separated from the crew on an outing. If Buggy was lost again, he'd get a talking to and won't be allowed to step off the ship ever again. He tried to look around but the first mate was nowhere to be seen.

Buggy tried not to panic but it was a little hard not to. 

He stuck his hand in his pocket, gripping the pretty bracelet he had found a few weeks ago. He didn't quite remember how he found it but it was one of his favorite things. The weight in his pocket was a comforting reminder of what he was striving for in his pirate journey: find as much treasure as possible.

“Are you lost?”

Buggy’s head jerked around to see a girl who looked about his age. She was smiling at him but he wasn't sure why. Was being lost amusing to her?!

“No, I'm not lost!” He insisted as he straightened up. “Why would you just ask someone that?!”

“You just looked lost.” She told him with a shrug. “I'm Sunny, my Mama's right over there. You can stay with us until your mom or dad show up if you want!”

Buggy stared at her. She just… offered to have him stay with her not knowing who he was when he could be some scary, dangerous pirate. He was about to say something to her, call her stupid for that, but a woman walked up, her blonde hair in a ponytail, arms covered in tattoos, startling Buggy into keeping his mouth shut. She looked more like a pirate than someone's mother.

“Sunny, what's going on?”

“He's lost, mama!”

“I-I’m not lost!” Buggy squeaked, not taking his eyes off the pirate. She cocked her head to the side before crouching down in front of him, looking him over curiously. He tried to look like he wasn't nervous but… he was for some reason. His captain was the strongest but this lady looked like she could be just as strong. 

“Oh? Well, you can hang out with us until someone comes looking for you.” She smiled. “I'm Windy. We were about to get a snack. What's your name, honey?”

He couldn't help but stare at her. The way she smiled and called him honey was… familiar and comforting to him for some reason. He glanced at Sunny. She was smiling at him as well and he felt himself relax just a bit. Maybe he could stick around with them until Rayleigh showed up.

“B-Buggy.”

“Buggy? That's a cute name.” Windy said as she smiled at him. “Let's get you kids a snack while we look for your adult, Buggy. How does that sound?”

He shouldn't talk to strangers. The crew told him and Shanks not to, but he did feel safe around these two. He wasn't sure why but they didn't seem to be a threat. There was a familiarity in that smile and how she called him honey, but he couldn't place where. He swallowed heavily and nodded. He could stay with them until he found Rayleigh.

~

To keep him from getting separated from them, Sunny held his hand the entire time. Buggy allowed her, saying nothing as his cheeks burned as they sat on a bench while Windy went to get them both a snack. The little girl looked at him and smiled brightly. He looked away.

“I bet Mister Rayleigh will find you.” She told him. “If not, you can stay with us.”

“I can find my way back to the ship if I have to!” Buggy shot back. “This place is just big, okay?”

Sunny tilted her head to the side and smiled. He hated that she kept doing that. Why were these two being so nice and helpful? Did they want something in return? He huffed softly and looked back at her. She gave his hand a squeeze and looked back at the people milling about the area

Windy came back a few minutes later, handing them both a tasty piece of fruit before standing beside her daughter and keeping an eye out for Rayleigh. She met the first mate once before, back when she was a member of the Cook Pirates, so spotting him wouldn't be too hard.

She glanced at the kids. Sunny was asking Buggy questions about living on a ship, being a pirate, all kinds of things, even asking what was the best treasure he found so far. The boy was answering back, an air of arrogance about him as he talked about rescuing the captain one time from a nasty pirate crew and how he found a treasure chest that was almost bigger than the ship! Sunny’s eyes were sparkling as she listened and Windy was happy to see her daughter making friends with someone. 

The snacks were enjoyed and the kids were chatting when Rayleigh made an appearance. His face was a mix of anger and relief as he crossed his arms and looked at Buggy. The boy straightened up and looked back at him, wondering what the punishment was, but Windy patted him on the head.

“Rayleigh, it’s been a while!” She laughed. “My daughter found your boy and was close to adopting him into our family. Better keep an eye on him or she’ll kidnap him.”

“Maybe he'll learn not to wander off.” Rayleigh grumbled as the kids stood up. “Let's head back, Buggy. Tell them thank you.”

Buggy looked over at Sunny and Windy. The pirate seemed amused while Sunny looked disappointed about him leaving. They just met, they weren't friends or anything, so why was she looking like she wanted to cry? He scratched the back of his head and glanced up at Rayleigh for reassurance. He sighed and looked back at them.

“Thank you for looking after me.”

“Any time, Buggy!” Windy chuckled. “It was nice meeting you. I bet you're going to be a famous pirate someday.”

Buggy puffed out his chest and looked smug about that. Rayleigh put his hand on Buggy’s head and directed him to Sunny. The little girl just gave him a sad smile and waved at him as the boy glanced up at his guardian again. What was he supposed to say to her? He just thanked them! 

“Thank… you for helping me, Sunny?” It was more of a question, but he wasn't sure. Her eyes lit up and her smile got bigger. Buggy forced himself to look away again because he didn't want to look at her any more. She had a pretty smile.

“You're welcome, Buggy!” She replied happily. “I hope we can stay friends!”

He didn't really know how, they wouldn't see each other again, but he just shrugged and stuck his hands in his pockets, toying with the bracelet he found for a moment. It was pretty, but he didn't remember how he got it, so maybe… 

He could offload it on her. It wasn't worth anything, he was pretty sure about that, so he pulled out the bracelet and reached for Sunny’s hand. She looked at him curiously as he put it in her hand. He said nothing, stared at her for a moment, then turned and hurried off before Rayleigh turned to follow. Windy just chuckled softly as Sunny looked it over and put the bracelet in her pocket. 

He was kinda weird but Sunny thought he was nice. Maybe she'd see him again.

[confused-wanderer]

A Dick Move

Part 2

Tims almost asleep when there’s banging on his door, and that’s how he knows it’s not Bruce or Dick. Bruce was always two brisk knocks before coming in anyway and Dick never even bothered to knock, instead flinging the door open and welcoming himself.

“FUCKING HELL TIM OPEN UP”

Tim looked around his room, and down at himself. If Jason saw him he’d get blackmail leverage and a few insults before trying to mother hen him.

The door slammed open, and Jason’s eyes bore into him.

“Tim.. what the fuck happened to Dick?”

Tim frowned.

“What did you do?”

“Why do you think I did something??”

Tim raised an eyebrow, and judgementally slurped his coffee cuz that’s a thing he can do and he will. He doesn’t get paid to deal with this bullshit.

“He didn’t jump me today!”

“Oh now you’re complaining about Dick not being annoying? Pick a side it’s like I’m watching a soap opera.”

Jason mutters a few curses under his breath about not killing Tim when he had the chance before grabbing and dragging him outside

Two things wrong with that:

1. Jason underestimates how strong he is and Tim is basically just like a kite flying in the wing with Jason tugging on his hand. Tim’s pretty sure his radius and ulna have been crushed.

2. Jason forgets just how short Tim is and so almost launches him down the stairs.

The grip is relinquished and as Tim tries adjusting to the light he makes out a figure calmly sitting on the desk.

“What..” Tim whispers, horrified.

“Yeah” Jason agrees.

Dick just looks up and waves to them before returning to his task.

And that’s the end of that. No chastising Tim for not getting enough sleep or food, no loud voices, no bouncing feet or fingers drumming on the table.

Tim feels a lot of dread form in his stomach. He’s barely aware that another voice is droning on, before fingers are snapping before his face and he hears Jason cussing in the background.

“Great job Goldie.. you broke Tim”

Part 3 here:

Part 1 here

[yourlocalstranger123]

Hi!idk if your requests are still open but can you write about the demon brothers(obey me!) Getting comforted by MC after a nightmare?ofc if they aren't open you can ignore my request!thx in advance

Obey me! [Brothers]

~♥︎Comfort♡~

.

.

.

~

Lucifer

As always, he works quite late. Exhausted, he fell on the bed. Not even bothering to change his clothes to more comfortable clothes.

After a few hours, you came in to check up on him but seeing his tired state you decided to make him move into a more suitable position and put the blankets over him. You tried to walk out but almost stumbled when Lucifer grabbed your hand.

"No...no, no no...!" His grip getting tighter, it was starting to get painful too. You slightly shook him to wake him up.

"Luci?...Are you alright? You can talk to me if you want." Due to his exhausted state, he didn't have any energy to put up with his pride and slithered his hands to your waist. He didn't say anything, silently sobbing onto your chest as he didn't dare to let go.

"Shhhh....it's ok, everything is ok. Let it all out." Soothing him, stroking his hair. You stayed still for a while until he fell asleep.

The next day, you both were doing things as if it hadn't happened. Although now you have Lucifer knocking on your door to come in and lay in bed with you. Slowly sinking into your warmth as you comfort him.

"You are my pride and...I love you, darling/[name]"

Mammon

@moonartz123 (sorry if you didn't allow people to use it. I just found your art on Pinterest since I couldn't find any other 😅 if you are not comfortable I will take the picture down and use a different one.)

Although sometimes he does come to you with silly little nightmares like Goldie being taken away by Lucifer. But this one is different, he came up balling in tears. Just putting his head on your lap as you do homework. As he tells you his nightmare. You kissed his forehead to Soothe his panic as his breathing starts to get more stable.

You slept with him through the night. Later you have an avatar of greed clinging to you. Hugging behind you, putting his head on your shoulder, etc. He smiles at you when you didn't shoo him off.

"I think I already found a new treasure. It's you and only you [name]"

Levi

Credit: obey me lol

You were on your phone doing etc. Suddenly you got a text message from Levi to come to him. You thought it was probably playing video games since it is pretty common for him to invite you at the strangest time.

You knocked on the door quietly to not wake up the others. He swings the door open and grabs you in his room. He doesn't let go so you just guide him to his bed. (Aka his bathtub) ....he ripped his pillows. (Not the ruri-chan one. The normal ones)

You did not feel comfortable sleeping with your head on a body pillow so you just decided today was the day you broke the neck for the sake of his comfort.

Later he got embarrassed and avoided you, not because of the nightmare. More like he was sleeping on top of you. Now he can't look you in the eyes for a few weeks.

"No way! Me, A yucky Otaku!....although I do wish to do it again with you so don't do it to others and only me [name]!"

Satan

I'm pretty sure this one is from obey me too.

You only came to him when you heard a loud

*Boom!*

It was Satan. Hah....I guess you'll pay since you didn't want Lucifer have extra paper work to get that fix-

"What's wrong Satan?" He looked up to you as he softens. He walked up to you and launched at you. You fell to the floor. It didn't really hurt though. You got up and carried/led him to your room where you got a cat who was injured but almost fully healed.

*Flashback*

"Seriously Satan?" You mentally smacked your forehead "you want me to keep the cat you found that is injured because Luci has a high chance of finding it?"

"Yes. I am serious! Just...for me? Please??"

'....damn those cat eyes of his!-' (also the cats too)

*Back to present*

"Satan...you can't cling to me while holding onto the cat." His face shows in disbelief.

(More like pouting.)

Later you guys slept on the bed while the cat was in Satan's arms. The next day everyone gets even MORE TERRIFIED

As he walked around with a huge eating grin. I guess his day got better.

"Thank you for calming me down, my peace/[name]"

Asmodeus

Pin/post by Envi on asmodeus obey me art

You were getting ready to get the makeup that Asmodeus requested at midnight. You saw him tremble. You softly poked his face to wake him up.

He started tearing up, wrapping his arms around your neck/waist. You sighed and just rub in a circling motion on his back. His throat was too dry so you gave him a bottle of water as you get ready and turned on the bathtub.

(Also I forgot, you are helping him with his skin care routine and makeup)

He thanked you for taking care of him. Now the rest of the day he kisses you!

Although he purposely kissed you with lipstick, and the bad thing is that it's hard to wipe off! That sly fox.

Scenario:

Bold is reader/you

"What do I need to do to comfort you?"

"F—ck me with loving s*x"

"What."

"..."

"..."

"Why do you have a rope-

HEY, WAIT‐ HELP MEEEE!"

. . .

"I love you, my blossom/name" (you know in anime, sometimes people confess under a blossom tree)

Beel

Credit: Origarnic on DeviantArt

He knocked at your door. Hiding his face in his pillow now is soaked with tears.

You let him in. You let him hug you as long as he wants. But you asked him to let go so you can make food for him since it usually makes him cheer up. Especially your signature food.

He followed you like a lost puppy, he always felt so full when he is around you. He loved your S/F

(Signature food)

It makes him so happy, feeling the love and warmth you put in the food. Oh how he loves you, he doesn't feel empty when he's around you.

"Thank you for the food my amazing, lovingly chef/[name]" :D

Belphie

You always sleep with him but this one time you couldn't sleep with him.

He was so used to sleeping with you, so now he's just laying there frustrated. (How could you leave him like this!) So he just gave in to sleeping pills that he secretly bought in case if you can't sleep.

(Now he's using it)

That was a bad choice. You have never seen him walking so fast down the hallway. He fell on you. You felt a few tears on your shoulder but didn't mind.

.

.

.

☆

Everyone was looking at you. Belphie was sleeping on your back/being carried.

Damn. You are hella strong.

"I love you, my Dream catcher"

Or

"I love you, my dreamily love/[name]"

[cookierunauprompts]

I'm sorry but I wanna say I love Golden Butter Cookie now

Hear me out. They go into the tiny toy box to see that all the toys and dolls have become agitated because their creator is in some sort of slumber, leaving the dolls with no ambition or purpose. Inside the depths of a guarded doll house, there inside a shiny glass box, seated upon a red velvet pillow, is Golden Butter Cookie, asleep.

Waiting for someone to open it up.

HAHA MY PLAN WORKED/j

Request Prompt #19 - ✦

Okay, so, once again this is more of an explainy prompt than a written prompt but bare with me. So it all begins with Gingerbrave and co(aka strawberry,wizard, pv, wl, and also silver bell) stumbling across the Toy-Box, and someone decides to open it and they all get sucked into the world. The minute the dolls notice them, they attack. The group almost all gets crumbled until another doll leads them to safety away from the crowds. The doll introduces itself as Rosemary, and is the first doll that Goldie created for the Toy-Box. Rosemary explains, or well, explains rather vaguely, what the situation here is. Turns out, Goldie has entered a whole new layer of escapism(first was the toy-box) by just... Sleeping. Aka she doesn't really want to think anymore due to the conflict within her head growing louder and louder every day. Rosemary states that this is the worst that Goldie's burnout has been since... Oh, wait, she's not allowed to talk abut that. As for the dolls, with no new things to do most either went dormant or hyper-focused on their last purpose. Hence why the dolls tried to kill the group(because their last purpose was protecting the Toy-box) Anyways, the group gets around to Goldie's chambers, with the big glass box and everything. Rosemary makes an attempt to wake up Golden Butter Cookie but... it seems unsuccessful at first. But then, her eyes open. They looked tired, bleak even behind the shiny glass of her box, or well, coffin. It then opens, allowing her to step out and take a look at the group. To put things simply, she's disappointed to some degree. And yet... she was expecting this. After all, he left her in the dark for thousands of years, so why would he come back? And yet, it had been his soul jam that she sensed. right? So... what had happened? After that, I'm pretty sure you can guess what happens next. After all Golden Butter Cookie wasn't aware of when the beasts got sealed, so it's likely that she'd be told about this.