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oonajaeadira · 5 days

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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

#leave off your wandering #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x meadowlark #joel miller x mature reader

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wondersinwaynemanor · 4 months

Text

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.

#dick is a dork but you love him anyway #big brother dick grayson strikes again #let dick be needy he loves his siblings #batfamily incorrect quotes #incorrect batfamily quotes #dc incorrect quotes #this can also be a prompt ig #batfamily #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #cassandra cain #damian wayne #batman #batkids #batbros

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writteninlunarlight-years · 23 days

Note

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~! 😊

My first scenario request~

I will be honest: I do not fully know the difference between this and a story, but I will try my best! I hope you like it!

This is definitely borderline NSFW, so Minors is back away now. 18+ Only

Obey Me! Mammon, Asmodeus, Belphigore X Curvy! Reader

~~~~~ 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.

~~~~~ BELPHIGORE ~~~~~

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.

#obey me mammon #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me asmodeus #obey me belphegor #obey me brothers x reader #obey me brothers #x reader #headcanon #mammon x reader #asmodeus x reader #belphegor x reader

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a-local-idiots-shitpost · 1 year

Text

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?

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avatarmerida · 7 months

Text

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.

#huntlow #huntlow fanfiction #toh #the owl house #Hunter toh #Willow park #owl house au

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thewriterg · 1 year

Text

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!

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devildomditzy · 2 years

Text

How they apologize

Tags/ Warning : Mildly suggestive statement in Asmo’s Part

Lucifer

He doesn’t :)

He’s not the avatar of pride for nothin, babey!!

Even if he’s in the wrong, he’ll find a backwards way of apologizing without explicitly saying sorry

Your most recent argument broke out when you felt he was getting a little too carried away with Mammon’s latest punishment

Although you tried to tell yourself it’s not your place, you eventually butt in when the agony on the second oldest’s face becomes too much for you to take

“Lucifer, I think he’s had enough…”, you trail off, trying to quell the worry in your voice

“Oh really MC, if you think so, then how would you like to take his place?”, he threatens as his demon form comes out. Whatever Mammon did must have been diabolical this time. He’s pissed.

Still you can’t hide the fear in your eyes and you freeze a beat too long before apologizing for the interruption and shuffling away, shivering.

As you walk away defeated, he quickly realizes what he’s done. He calls after you, “MC…”

Leaving his brother precariously dangling, he power walks after you, stopping outside of your recently closed door, knocking softly

As your wide eyed, tear stained face opens up, he sighs and he looks down at you. “You really shouldn’t get in my way when I’m disciplining my brothers. I’d hate to see anything bad happen to you if I lost control. I’ve become rather found of you.”

When you catch on to what he’s trying to say, you give a half hearted chuckle before responding, “Okay, I get it. Thank you for being concerned about my well being.”

He gives you a warm smile

“But you still have to cut Mammon down from the ceiling.”

He rolls his eyes and huffs before giving a curt “fine.”

Mammon

Despite his constant denying, you already know you mean the whole world, solar system, galaxy, and universe to this man. So when he upsets you, it’s panic time (tm)

He was fooling around in a game of poker with a few demons you had become well acquainted with and had come to know as his “boys”

It was a bit of a rowdier night, with Mammon having drank a few too many glasses of demonus, but you didn’t mind. Class could be stressful, and you wanted to see him relax a little.

What you didn’t want was for him to lose control of his greed. Unfortunately for you, once he’s thrown a few back, it’s hard for him to help it. So, when the betting stakes begin to be raised, you feel yourself tense up. He had already lost most his money tonight. What else would he have to bet?

Oh no. He wouldn’t. You swear to Diavolo you’ll kill him. But, of course just like clockwork, you see your boyfriend look down at the shining, gold object wrapped around his wrist.

That watch. That damned watch. The one he saw in the window in Majolish months ago and would not shut up about. He had already maxed out Goldie so he couldn’t buy it, but that didn’t stop him from yapping about it every chance he got. You saved up for what felt like forever, taking extra shifts at Hell’s Kitchen to surprise him with it. But, now you see your stupid - adorable yet stupid - boyfriend unhook it from his wrist and slam it down on the table atop the grim already thrown in the pot by the other demons

You sat in silence as you simmered in your anger and watched your boyfriend play another round.

Upon arriving home, you immediately changed into pajamas and got in bed, rolling to face the wall with the intentions of pretending to sleep until he shut up about how he won the jackpot in the final round. It didn’t matter if he won the watch back, he still bet it in the first place. He knows how hard it was for you to get it.

“Aw Doll, did ya see the looks on their faces when I played that hand? Ha Ha, full sweep baby!”, he cheers, seemingly still not catching onto your anger. “Yeah, great. Goodnight”, you flatly respond.

He can immediately tell you’re mad. Oh no, why are you mad? Di-Did he make you mad? Oh fuck, what did he do to make you mad? He’s racking his demonus clouded brain as best as he can for an answer. It takes him awhile, but when sees the watch on his couch atop a pile of grim, it hits him

It’s at this moment Mammon knew he fucked up.

He’s on the bed in a instant, scooping you up into the biggest hug he can manage

“Fuck. Treasure, I’m so sorry. I-I got carried away and I forgot. I forgot how hard ya worked, I-I forgot how much it meant to me. I was blinded by grim. Dammit, I’m so sorry!”, he practically sobs into your back as he clings onto you. Despite if you forgive him or not from this apology, he’s no where near done.

The next day, you awake to find him trying to sneak back into the room with a bouquet of roses and those scones you adore from the bakery in town.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake ya. I just got ya somethin’ and…I’m sorry. And if ya don’t believe me, I’ll do this everyday til ya do.”

Crisis averted 🥹

Levi

Levi may have fallen, but he essentially prays that he never does anything to upset you, because he genuinely wouldn’t know how to fix it

You arrived at his room at 5:15 on the dot, the time you had both planned to meet up to go on a date scheduled last week

You had been looking forward to it for days, and you fussed at your clothes as you waited for the door to open, trying to look your best. You know Levi loves the way you look regardless, but you thought it wouldn’t hurt to put in some extra effort

When the door remains closed, you knock again this time a bit harder. Behind it you hear Levi swear under his breath before shouting “IT’S OPEN!”

You twist the door handle, and the sight in front of you makes your heart drop a little.

In the corner of the room sits your boyfriend, still in his pajamas, hunched over his computer with his headset on

He forgot.

In your anger, you marched right over to him, ripping the headphones off his ears

“Hey, MC! What do you think you’re doing! I’m in the middle of a tournament!”

“Oh, yeah? Well I was in the middle of meeting up with you for our date I thought we we’re both looking forward to, but I guess I’m alone here.”

Levi.exe has stopped working

His face goes beet red as he starts to stammer

“M-Mc I’m so sorry! How could I forget! God, I’m such a Normie!”

With a huff, you turn to leave the room, but you stop when he grabs your hand

Thinking that this was a rather bold move from the third born, you let him continue.

“Please MC, I’ll do anything to make it up to you. We can do anything you want to do today, we can go anywhere you wanna go! We can even go to that coffee shop you like!”

You raise an eyebrow at him, “I thought you said that coffee shop was for normies?”, you question

“Yeah, well today I guess I’m one of them. How else would I have forgotten I have a d-d-date with someone as p-p-p”

“Pretty?”, you help finish the word he can’t manage to get out

His face flushes. “Yes. That word as you. Please, give me another chance?”

you do 💕

Asmo

Ahem.

YOU KNOW THAT ONE SCENE IN HOWL’S MOVING CASTLE WHERE HOWL THROWS A GIGANTIC FIT BECAUSE HE DYED HIS HAIR THE WRONG COLOR?

yea that :)

You used his bathtub with all his nice, luxurious bubble baths, soaps, exfoliators, and a nice hair mask you found on a shelf next to his large, ornate vanity. The bottle was pretty much empty, but you knew your Asmo wouldn’t mind

Oh boy, you sure were dead wrong.

It starts sweetly, when you hear him sing ,”MC, would you please be a dear and grab my hair mask off the vanity for me?”, while he’s in the shower. You figure this was just another attempt to get him to join you, but then you remember.

“Oh, sorry Asmo, I think I used the last of it last time I was in there.”

“…what.”

“…WHAT!!?”

You see the shower curtain get yanked furiously to one side as Asmo stands before you in his demon form.

“…do you always shower fully clothed or?” you are not helping your situation in the slightest

“Do you even KNOW what happens to my hair if I don’t use that product? Did you even stop to think? Now it’ll be frizzier than Belphegor’s bed head!”

Pulling out the first names. Oh yeah, he was mad

“I-I didn’t think it would be a big deal. I use your stuff all the time, you know that. I’ll just go get you more,” you stammer

“You better! I can’t leave my room looking like this!”

It turns out this specific hair mask is specially made by everyone’s favorite in-house sorcerer. You practically skitter to Solomon’s room and beg him to make more. He needs a few special ingredients though, so guess who’s going on a quest!? (it’s you, congratulations :) ) But, at this point you don’t care. You’ve never seen Asmo so angry

When you knock on his door, he opens it to find you, battered and dirty with clothes torn up from the journey and slightly singed from Solomon’s castings, but with the new jar of product in your hands

He takes it from you and twirls around the room before looking back at your form, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you to sit on the bed with him

You see a rare, genuine moment of vulnerability from Asmo as he softly says, “I guess it wasn’t that beautiful of me, lashing out like that. Thank you for going through all that trouble for me. I’m really sorry if I scared you.” He pulls you in for a hug, honestly you’re surprised he even think about touching you in this state. He pulls away from the hug before poking his tongue playfully between his lips, adding -

“Be honest though, did my rougher handling turn you on?”

Satan

So, you’re dating the embodiment of wrath, huh?

That’s rough, buddy.

To be clear he tries his absolute hardest to never take it out on you

But sometimes his rage can be blinding

It’s after he sees you talking to his oldest brother that something just snaps within him. Out of all his brothers, why’d you have to be talking to Lucifer. And why did you look so happy?

He watches carefully as you throw your head back laughing. Your beautiful laugh, it’s like music to his ears. He could listen to it all day. You looked so carefree. But then,

Lucifer reaches a hand out, and places it on your shoulder. A menial gesture. It could have meant anything. But of course, he could never hold back when it came to you.

Immediately shifting forms, he jumps between the two of you, pulling you back by the shoulder to dizzyingly move you away from Lucifer before getting in his brother’s face

“Exactly what do you think you’re doing with my partner, dearest brother.” You can hear the venom dripping from his words. But of course, Lucifer would never hold back when it came to teasing Satan.

“We were simply sharing in a pleasant conversation, one that I think MC and I would like to get back to if you don’t mind. Isn’t that right, MC?”

Satan turns to you, fury in his eyes. “Oh, is that so? Well please, don’t let me interrupt while you snuggle up to every boy in this house!”, he snidely comments while glaring down at you.

“S-Satan it’s not like that”, you stammer, “I was only asking about our next student council meeting.”

Looking between the two of you, he continues his rampage. “We’ll, isn’t that convenient? Blame it on the student council meeting. Can you blame the laughter on the student council meeting? What about the touching? You sure didn’t seem like you wanted my brother here to remove his grip on you-”

As tears well up in your eyes, you decide you can’t take it anymore. You cut him off, “Why do you have to be such a jerk! I can’t believe you’d accuse me of that!” You sprint off down the hallway towards your dorm room.

Aw, fuck. He never meant to make you cry, it’s just, shouldn’t you be laughing with him? Shouldn’t you be smiling at him? You were his and he wanted to be the only one who makes you feel special.

He gives it some time before he approaches your room. He know it’s best if you both cool down before trying to sort this out.

When you meekly answer to enter, he steps into the room, your favorite book in hand.

“I figured you could use something to cheer you up. May I?” You allow him to join you on the bed and he begins reading to you. A few chapters in he stops to take you in

“I suppose I let my sin get the best of me. I promise you I am working on it, love.” He finishes his sentence with a kiss to your forehead. “I promise I’ll become less.. well, you know.”

Beel

Never has to apologize because he never hurts you UwU

Okay but the one time he did upset you was when Luke had taken an interest towards recipes from the human realm

You were talking to him all about dishes your family would make every holiday, reminiscing on your fond memories. It made you feel a little homesick, a fact you tried to hide from the young angel, but unfortunately one he could pick up on

At that moment, Luke declared that he was going to find a way to make you your great aunt’s banana pudding one way or another to cheer you up! He demands you wrote down all the ingredients for him.

With shopping list in hand and the help of Simeon, Barbados, and a “human realm” street vendor, Luke was able to collect everything he needed to whip up your familial recipe, with your help of course.

Setting it in the fridge to solidify, you thanked the angels and demon for trying to bring you some for of comfort from home while you were away. At Simeon’s suggestion, you all decide to watch a movie together while you wait. It didn’t even cross your mind that Beel considers anything in the kitchen fair game…

You could barely hold in your excitement when you bound into the kitchen, ready to divvy out portions and get a little piece of home. You enter to find Beel, just finishing up a bowl of something or other in his hand. You give him a big smile as you open the fridge, “Oh Beel, Luke and I just made a human realm dessert! It’s my great aunt’s recipe, you’ve got to try so-”

You cut yourself off as you see no sign of the pudding in the fridge. Your eyes make their way over to the bowl in Beel’s hand. Oh…

It was literally just pudding. They have it here in the Devildom. But you can’t stop the tears from gathering on your lash line. You just wanted a little reminder from home. And now that little reminder lay in the stomach of Demon in front of you

“Beel, you couldn’t have asked first? Clearly this wasn’t Devildom food, and it’s not pretty enough to be Celestial realm food, so, you know..” you trail off, voice getting shaky

His heart breaks at the sight of you shaking, he’s immediately stepping forwards towards you.

“MC, I’m sorry. The hunger was just overbearing, I didn’t really think about it. Is there anyway I can remake it? If not, I’ll ask Lucifer if I can go to the human realm to get ingredients for another one.”

He would scour across all three realms just to see you smile again. Even after he fixes it, he’ll feel terrible about it for months

Makes sure to ask you if something in the fridge is yours now every time before binge eating

Belphie

It’s always the same thing with Belphie. He knows what he did. He knows there’s nothing he can do to erase that. He knows that no matter how many times, in however many different ways he apologizes the trauma will still be there for you.

And it tears him apart.

At first he apologized through flirtatious quips, offering himself up to you. But you still tended to shy away from him

He then tried gifts, leaving flowers with a note outside your door, or leaving stuffed animals on your bed

He knows no matter what he does he can’t make what he did go away. It happened. It was real. And even though it didn’t happen to this version of you…

it was still you

It doesn’t matter if you forgive him. He’ll never forgive himself.

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