#ill probably post it on ao3 later too

[headfullof-ideas]

Something a little different here. I’ve been working on various stuff for the story, like redesigns, actual chapters, timeline plots, Headcanon and storyboard doodles, and other stuff. I’ve also been trying to figure out that future stuff, with the Next Gen stuff, trying to figure out what story I’d tell if I even decide to, what the kids would look like, and all that jazz. While scrolling through Pinterest I found a Draw the Squad, and immediately thought of some of the existing kids that I’ve already designed and developed…and so procrastinated on all of the actual story stuff I was in the literal middle of doing to draw that instead.

Some of them are a little wonky, as I kinda rushed it, but these are the next generation of Nekton kids that i’ve spent nearly the entire time I’ve been into The Deep designing and developing as characters. They’ve gone through a lot of concepts and variations, but this is what I’ve permanently settled on. I’m posting this merely to see if anyone is interested in learning about them, as I’m still a little on the fence due to teasing about actually going through with writing a Next Gen installment of the story(that I haven’t even FINISHED yet). I kinda don’t wanna say which Nekton sibling each kiddo belongs to, as I kinda want people to guess

Also some closeups

[feralghxuls]

50 for the top songs playlist, any character!

hiiii thank you for sending this!! unfortunately, it is angst >:3

the song was Fake by I Prevail, and these are the lines that inspired this:

Dew storms out of yet another rehearsal, after snapping yet another set of strings. The strings for the Hagström just aren't as durable as his bass's had been. Particularly not under the extreme temperatures his fingers creep up to without his noticing. Barely a wisp of smoke and a few notes going flat as the strings heat and stretch, that's all the warning he gets before one more hard strum snaps them all in one go. 

Dew remembers snarling and shaking his hand out against the sting of six strings whipping all their tension into his skin; he remembers flinging the guitar somewhere, hearing something crash and a hot feeling of satisfaction; he remembers someone calling his name; he remembers raising a bleeding middle finger. 

He doesn't remember how he got here, to the roof beside the bell tower. He never used to go for heights like this, when he'd been a water ghoul. But after the transformation ritual, when emotions boil over, he just has this urge to go up and up and up. As high as he can get. Usually he ends up in a tree in the woods, which at first had been extremely disorienting. Coming out of a blurry haze of fury and finding himself swaying in the uppermost branches of a tree had been, to put it lightly, fucking terrifying. But at least the wood was good for sinking his claws into for a good grip, and if he scorched a few branches the clergy didn't dock it from his pay. 

Read the rest under the cut or on Ao3!

Here on the roof, though, the shingles are slick under his toes, and his claws scrape uselessly for purchase; he'd lost his shoes somewhere between the rehearsal room and here, which is a thought that makes his blood boil because it's just one more fucking thing.

He can't control his stupid element, he can't control his emotions, and the fucking clergy expects him to play nice with the Cardinal and all these new ghouls who seem intent on befriending him and he can't for the life of him fathom why. And then there's Aether, constantly trying to defend him and pick up his messes and Dew never asked him to do that and it just makes him feel worse, that someone else feels the need to apologize for him. 

And there's that stupid fucking water ghoul–

Rain's scent floods his senses a split second before he hears the scrape of a shoe on roof tiles. Dew snaps his teeth in Rain's direction and scrambles back, away, feeling a few shingles kick loose but he can't be bothered to care. He hasn't cooled off enough yet and the last ghoul he wants to see is Rain. 

When Dew is calm, he understands that Rain is only a pawn. He was summoned to the Ghost project just the same as everyone else, just following instructions; it's not Rain's fault that Dew's element was changed. 

Dew is not fucking calm. 

Rain can tell. He hangs back by the window, sitting on the ledge with one foot on the roof and the other still inside, head tilted slightly. Watching. Dew snarls louder. Rain lifts a hand, shows Dew's shoes dangling from his fingers. He tosses them across the roof at him, and Dew instinctually darts forward to catch them as they bounce and clatter across the slanted surface of the roof, knowing deep in his bones that it will feel like a horrible punch to the gut if he has to watch one of those shoes tumble over the edge of the roof. 

Both shoes safely in hand, Dew skitters back several feet, crouched with his weight on his heels and the shoes cradled against his chest. He glares ferociously at Rain, who's got both feet on the roof now, still sitting in the windowsill. Dew doesn't ask before he slams into Rain's thoughts, demanding, What the fuck do you want?

Rain doesn't even blink. He just looks at Dew, and that stupid head tilt is infuriating. Wanted to check on you, he says finally. 

Dew scoffs, huffing a puff of steam from his nose and baring his teeth at rain, ears pinned. I didn't ask you to do that, he snaps, tail lashing behind him. Rain's own tail hangs down from the window ledge, relaxed except for a slow, thoughtful flick of the end of it. 

No, he muses, standing and taking a step towards Dew. I wanted to.

Dew doesn't move. He refuses to give any more ground. Rain has a way of getting under his skin, even when he's riled up like this, of digging his claws into the cracks of his soul, but instead of breaking him open, he just…sits. And waits for Dew to put himself back together, and then Rain melts away. It's fucking infuriating. 

Do you like what you see? Dew snarls, unable to stand the silence or the way Rain is looking at him, his stupid face all calm and quiet. He hates that it's a little contagious. Are you having fun watching me fucking lose it?

No, Rain says again, brows drawing together. There's a very slight edge of distaste to his voice this time he says the word, and again he takes a step forward. And this time he keeps talking. I don't like when you're like this.

Then go. Go back to the pit, for all I care. Dew's voice is still harsh, but it's losing its edge. Despite his stubbornness, his insistence on staying in his black mood, Rain is rubbing off on him. 

No. The word is firm this time, accompanying another step. I'm helping you. I know you don't like it, but someone has to. And Aether–

Aether /what./ Dew snarls, cutting him off, furious and rising to his feet. Watch your fucking mouth, or I will crack your horns and send you back myself.

Rain just blinks at him, tail flicking mildly. Aether is exhausting himself.

Anger flares, then fades into sickening guilt that drops Dew's stomach into his toes, and then he doesn't know how to handle that so it boils right back into rage and he stalks across the roof towards Rain. I didn't ask him to do that either. That's not my fucking problem, and I'm sick of both of you, of your self-righteous shit. Neither of you really give a shit, do you? Just trying to keep the shitty peace. Fuck that fake shit.

By now, Dew is level with Rain, jabbing a claw into his chest as he rages at him, teeth bared and snarling and Rain just…absorbs it. Unbothered. Just like he always is. 

Yes, Dewdrop. Keeping the peace. That's all it is, Rain says, and an awful feeling spreads through Dew. Yes, he'd been saying hateful things, but a confirmation that they're true makes his lips part in shock and he actually takes a step back, ears relaxing slightly from pinned flat to a more hurt angle. And then Rain's tone sinks in, and he realizes there was sarcasm there, and bitter spite rises and he jerks forward, right back into Rain's space. Rain speaks before he can, though: Of course we care about you. If it was simply about keeping the peace, we would find a new fire ghoul. You're pack, Dew. I shouldn't have to tell you that we care.

Dew doesn't know what to do with that. It feels like the entire range of emotions he's capable of feeling are whirling through him at break-neck speed, and he's frozen, staring at Rain. Dew watches him tip his head two degrees to the side, dark eyes watching him, observing. He always knows just the right moment to go in for the kill, and he does it so swiftly that Dew doesn't have time to defend himself, and suddenly he finds himself bundled up in Rain's arms wound tightly around him. He goes stiff for a second, but he's weak to the way Rain holds him, with surprising strength in those arms, compressing him with enough force that he comes undone every time. He melts, all his emotions seeping out of him and leaving him trembling in Rain's arms, his face pressed into the crook of his neck. He hates this. He needs it. He doesn't understand it. 

Rain seems to, though, and he always somehow knows the exact moment he needs to ease up and let Dew stand on his own before he gets restless and the whole process has to start over. Rain steps back, eyes on Dew, who feels impossibly raw, but he nods at Rain and averts his gaze. It's as close as he can stand to expressing gratitude, to telling Rain he's no longer on the brink of completely losing his shit. So Rain gives him this secret little smile and turns to head back across the roof, trusting that Dew will follow him. 

And he does.

[bunnyreaper]

𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖘 𝔞 𝔰𝔬𝔞𝔭 𝔪𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝖕𝖙 1 — 𝖕𝖙 2 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 wc - 5.7k warnings - 18+/nsfw, dom sub dynamic, eventual romance/smut, medium burn? notes - first part of my owner!soap x pet!reader, woohoo! i already regret writing something centered around texting and calling lmao, crying!! the formatting is killing me!! anyway, also on ao3! and if you wanna send a request, pls do! ♥

Lonely girl looking for owner. 

Posting on this subreddit again was probably a mistake—but a deep-down part of you clings to the hope that this time will be the time you find someone, the time you get to go home to him. 

At least this time, you'll be better at spotting the signs right off the bat—if only you can take off the rose-tinted glasses long enough to take note.

Your inbox is flooded with the usual kinds of messages—unsolicited pictures, low-effort one-sentence wonders, and so-called doms jumping straight to the part where they call you a nasty whore with no actual consideration for the person you are. 

You're just about to give up, delete the post, and ignore all chat requests when a message arrives in your inbox. 

From: squeakycleanscot 

Subject: Lonely guy looking for girl

Hi,

Saw your post and knew I had to message. You sound like everything I'm looking for and more.

I'm a little younger than the age you put on your post, but I think I fit your other requirements. I'm 27, Scottish (yes, with the accent), and in the army, I hope that's a turn-on rather than a turn-off.

When I'm not deployed, I like cosy nights in, preferably with my love by my side. Don't mind a night at the pub either, especially if there's a Celtic match on, not that anywhere near here shows them. 

I'm looking for something longer term like you mentioned (would love to collar my girl one day, which is probably ironic considering I'm a wee bit scared of dogs.)

Happy to send a picture if you'd like :) 

Hope to hear from you soon, 

Johnny.

Johnny. 

You reread the message, turning his words over in your mind. 

Something about his message has your attention—it at least suggests he has a brain in his head and a heart capable of empathy, and that maybe he's serious. 

You begin typing your reply instantly, your fingers moving so fast you have to type and retype so many parts to rid the message of all of the overexcited mistakes.

hi johnny, 

scottish?! is it bad im already imagining how your dirty talk will sound? 

it's funny, i always wanted to join the army growing up, but it never worked out. maybe it's for the best as now i'm not immune to enjoying a hot man in uniform... which I'm assuming you are ;) 

cosy nights in are my favourite too! I'm a bit of a homebody and love being snuggled up more than anything. i have to let you know in advance that you have some stiff competition in the form of my giant teddy bear, barnaby. 

i'm looking for something longer term too, or at least not a one night kind of thing—a collar one day would be the dream <;3 

if you send a picture, ill send one back, nothing sexy just yet though, if that's okay? 

have you met up with someone off here before? just curious about your experiences! 

y/n

As soon as the message is sent, the overthinking kicks in—was that too much? Is he going to think you're weird? 

You shuffle in bed, turning over between the sheets and trying to flick through other apps as you wait for a reply—otherwise, you'd just be staring at the notifications bar waiting for that silly little robot face to pop up. 

Johnny doesn't leave you waiting long, only a few minutes passing from your last message.

Maybe you'll find out sooner rather than later just how my dirty talk sounds ;) 

I tried to sneak in before I was old enough, but they caught on. Served since I was 18 though, you'll have a lot of stories ready from me if you're ever willing to listen. Not sure if the uniform is anything like you're thinking though, in my unit it's mostly just t-shirts, tac vests and trousers. 

I'll prepare my best snuggling arms for if we ever meet. You should inform Barnaby now about his replacement, mind. 

Can't not send a sexy photo though, sorry lass, all my pictures are. I'm sure you understand, lol

Haven't met anyone, had a few conversations but nothing worth pursuing, and had kind of given up until I saw your post. 

His message is the perfect mix of sexy, sweet, and sincere—and if that is the essence of the man, you know he's everything you're looking for. 

You try not to think too hard about a hot Scottish accent calling you all your favourite names or telling you exactly what to do, or even those stories he has to tell, as the idea is all too exciting. 

Reading his message, you instinctively reach out to pat Barnaby when you see he may end up replaced—hopefully the poor bear will understand when he has to vacate the bed for this sexy soldier man. 

looking forward to it. can I start putting in requests now for bedtime stories too?

i still wanna see, maybe in your sexy-not-sexy pic? 

barnaby will be devastated by the news, and you may have to give him hugs too (but not for too long, or i'll get lonely!!!)

same here, about things not going anywhere... or people turning out to be a bit scary, so you're not allowed to let me down, okay? 

Maybe the last part of the message was too much, but your heart is already soaring with unbridled hope—along with that hope comes doubt too. 

Each second waiting for a reply drags, and you take to re-reading his messages and clicking on his profile to investigate. 

It's largely empty of posts, but there are tons of comments across different communities—including his aforementioned football team, r/Scotland, and eyebleach. 

Clearly, he's a softie at heart. 

When his next message comes through, it's an Imgur link with a short message. 

Here we go, a few months old though now. Don't have anything more recent from work :) 

You take a moment or two to steady yourself before you tap the link. While you definitely feel like you and Johnny have already started to click, if he's not your type then it probably won't go anywhere... 

It's a situation you've been in before—great conversation, similar interests but no physical attraction, and back then you didn't have the heart to break it off straight away.

You tap the link and are greeted by a full-body shot of a tall, well-built man in tactical clothes. His hair is a neatly trimmed mohawk, and while his face isn't crystal clear, he's clearly fucking handsome. His biceps bulge from the gray tee stretched over his torso, his large hands are covered with gloves and grasping a gun.

Your eyes trail to his long legs, thick thighs encased in camo and strapped with various holsters. All in all, the picture is perfect. You find yourself zooming in desperately to get a better look at his face, the handsome jaw lined with stubble that you can already imagine between your legs. The whole image and every new detail has you squirming in your bed, and cheekily wishing to save the image to your phone.

holyfwucj 

holy fuck 

Like what you see? 

i need a hug from you urgently. 

now i feel shy... 

It had crossed your mind ever so slightly that Johnny may be out of your league, or that he simply may not be attracted to someone like you, which would be a complete shame. Now you've set eyes on him, you want him even more—want to kneel at those feet and stare up at his hulking figure while he tugs on a leash around your neck. 

Hopefully, just like you, he'll be smitten from the first glance. 

Scrolling through your camera roll, you decide you don't exactly love any recent photos of yourself. The ones at your last work event have you looking far too corporate, and the only image from your last night out was taking in a bathroom mirror in the local Wetherspoons—neither of which is ideal. 

You crawl out from the warmth of your sheets, kneeling on the end of the bed and posing as you point your camera in the mirror that sits across the room and captures you perfectly. Before you start snapping, you adjust your top to make sure too much isn't on display, even though it's strappy and cropped, and definitely a little bit more on the tantalising side as far as your pyjamas go. 

Hopefully, Johnny likes the pose and the outfit... and you. You can see your smiling face just to the side of your phone as you press to capture the picture—and when you return to your inbox to send the picture link, a message is waiting for you. 

I already know you're gorgeous. Don't leave me hanging, bonnie. 

okay. this is me now, all ready for bed!! 

Holy fuck yourself.

And I'm assuming that's Barnaby in the background. 

If he notices the pose, he doesn't comment on it, instead delighting your heart by commenting on Barnaby instead.

sure is! he's ready for snuggles and sleep. 

Can you do me a favour? 

That message makes your heart skip because usually when something like that is asked, it's followed with a request for nudes or something sexual—and while that is a large part of something like this, you crave the connection first, crave someone actually sticking around and getting to know you. 

depends on what it is!

Tell Barnaby to keep looking after you until I get there, yeah? 

does that mean you're coming for me?

One day, if we're both lucky.

seems promising so far, Johnny. 

Get some sleep, yeah? Maybe tomorrow night I'll give you a bell. 

The idea of this conversation ending is heart-wrenching, but at least sleep will bring you closer to that possible phone call. Hearing his voice, now that will be even more incredible. 

how do you expect me to sleep after telling me that? so mean! 

Patience, bonnie. Be good for me? 

You clench, your thighs squeezing together as arousal rushes through you. It's like he knows exactly how far to go, what buttons to press, what you're looking for.

It's the right kind of commanding, toeing the line perfectly between flirtatious and in charge. A lot of guys you've talked to have rushed it made commands too early, and sent you running. Johnny's words, be good for me? You can't help but want to behave. 

okay, but I see how this is going to be :( 

Bet you look so fucking good with a pout ;) 

now you're just being a cruel tease, Johnny... 

Sorry, I'll stop. Sleep, yeah, for me?

cuddling up to barnaby now. 

You decide to attach another picture, your eyes screwed shut and cheeks squished as you wrap yourself around the bear and cuddle up under the sheets. 

talk tomorrow?

Of course, bonnie, sweet dreams <;3 

You lock your phone, your eyes feeling relieved as they adjust to the darkness. 

For a brief moment, you just clutch your phone to your chest and recall the picture Johnny had sent, how much you'd love to be wrapped up in his arms tonight. 

He's the only thing on your mind as you drift off to sleep.

-//-

Your dreams are tumultuous, starting off with a nightmare of being chased and chased until your legs give out, only for you to find salvation and safety in a stranger's arms—one who seemed vaguely familiar. 

The first thing you do when you wake is roll over to check your phone, elation overtaking you when you see a notification from Johnny already waiting there—already he's blessing you with a good morning message.

Good morning, sweet girl.

Attached under the picture is another image link, and clicking on it brings up an absolutely gorgeous picture of Johnny, lazing in bed. There's just enough light in the room for you to see the brightness of his eyes that you couldn't see before—his mohawk is mussed, and his smile is easy, drawing you in. 

He's even more handsome in this up close photo, you can only imagine what he looks like in person, right before you. 

morning Johnny <3 how did you sleep? 

Like a baby. Yourself? 

not the best, but I swear you were in my dream. 

Sorry to hear that, but oh already? What did I do? 

I mean, it was a bulky guy with a mohawk but he didn't have your name, I think it was meant to be you though. 

You recall the safety you felt in the arms of the strange figure, it was serene, and everything you hope to feel when you find the one—hopefully that's Johnny.

My dreams were shite, you didn't show up. 

i'll try harder to be there tonight!! 

Promise? 

promise. 

God, he's so fucking sweet. It's hard to imagine he's into all the things you mentioned in your initial post, at least right now. But you're all too familiar with how appearances can be deceiving—you wonder what else your sweet Scot is into. 

You peel back the covers and head out into the kitchen, flicking the kettle on mindlessly as you keep your eyes fixated on the screen—not wanting to be even a minute late to answering Johnny's texts, even though it seems there's a natural lull in the conversation. 

You return your focus to making your tea, and your thoughts don't drift from Johnny for even a moment, as you ponder ways to keep the conversation going. Admittedly, you have a million and one questions you want, but you don't want to come across too... eager? clingy? Like some serial killer fiending for information? 

It's crazy the way your heart yearns for him so soon—and it's crazy the way that you wish he feels the same as you do. You wonder how his day is going, and if he's staring at your phone waiting for your message.

With tea brewed, you set it on the coffee table and flop onto the plush couch, rushing to open the app when a new notification pops up.

What's your plan for the day? 

lazy day, binge-watching... texting you? wbu? 

I have to work for a bit, but I'll message you when I can. 

On a weekend? That's horrible, but I imagine they run a tight ship over there. 

You rush to follow up your message with something else. 

will you still be able to call tonight? 

Aye, give me your number, I'll save it! 

You send off your number and don't hear anything from Johnny for a good few hours. You pass the time watching one of your favourite shows, and trying to resist the urge to go scroll down Johnny's profile once more.  

The next time a message pops up, it's well past lunch.

Cute profile pic on whatsapp.

Johnny has clearly added your number to his contacts and spied your picture on the app. You blush thinking of him seeing you in that costume—especially after he knows what you're into.

it was Halloween, I swear!! 

You make an adorable little kitten, lass.

imagination running wild now? ;) 

Aye, but I'm a gent. 

hopefully not always...

Oh, you'll see. Talk to you tonight, kitty. 

talk to you then &lt;;3 

Now you're just itching, waiting for the hours to crawl by for Johnny's workday to end, so you can talk to him again, so you can finally hear his voice. 

What will it sound like saying your name? Whispering sweet nothings in your ears? 

The hours pass slowly until a different notification lights up your phone as you cuddle into your sheets.

Hey, it's Johnny! Just got home. 

You scramble to click on the pop-up, spying his own profile picture in the corner—tapping on it to view it closer. 

It's the Johnny you recognise, smiling wide with his arm slung around another man. He looks so ridiculously happy, probably due to the pint in his other hand. The more you look at him, the more you can't believe you're talking to this man, that he wants to talk to you. 

You quickly add him to your contacts, putting a heart next to his name, before you return to the chat and begin to type.

i'm not the only one with a cute pfp!! 

Three sheets to the wind in that picture, actually.

i can tell &lt;3

Ready to call? 

whenever you're ready!

The image of him floods your screen, the screen pulsing as it waits for you to accept. Your fingers tremble as you press the button, and you fall silent as you press the phone to your ear, nerves gripping at your throat. 

"Hi, bonnie." His voice drifts from the phone speaker, sweet like honey and warm like sunshine, with that gorgeous accent too. 

"Hi." You squeak out, silently cursing at yourself for being so nervous and seemingly unable to speak. 

A melodic laugh follows your words, amused but not cruel or mocking. "Are you nervous?" His voice is soothing, his concern and sweet nature evident. 

You cradle your burning cheek, feeling the way your blush spreads across your smiling face. "Just a little, can you blame me?" 

He's laughing again, and you hear a shuffling noise that suggests he's getting comfortable. "Don't be, I'll look after yer, I promise." 

Fuck. You could get used to hearing that. "I really like your voice." You admit, whispering into the phone with a ridiculous grin on your face. 

"I like yours too, you sound so sweet." 

You drop your voice lower, giggling mischievously. "Only sometimes." 

"That's what I like ta hear." The way Johnny's voice dips as he says that has your insides fluttering, but you can only assume he's returning the favour. His tone returns to its usual charming tone as he asks, "How was your lazy day?" 

"Well, I kind of spent a fair bit of it distracted, thinking about this important call I was going to have tonight..." 

"Oh aye, I should get off the phone so you can wait then." 

"Funny. How was yours? What do you even do day to day, anyway?" You ask, voice brimming with curiosity—there are so many things you want to ask, but you imagine his job can be secretive. 

"Lots of training, and sometimes paperwork, which is right shite." 

"Not when you don't have someone under the desk keeping you company." You laugh, taking the chance to flirt. If you were into Johnny after reading his messages, actually hearing his voice is only making your attraction soar. 

A quiet fuck can be heard, as the man on the end of the phone heaves out a breath. "I'll have ta look into getting you clearance if you keep talking like that, lass." 

"Glad to be of service, what can I say?" You find yourself in a giggle fit at your own silliness, a mix of nerves and joy at enjoying yourself so much.

"God, I love yer laugh." The deep sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten. 

The drug that is Johnny is already so intoxicating. 

"I'm so glad you can't see me blushing." 

"I'm no'." He sounds so indignant about that. "But I could listen to that laugh all day, really."

If only he could see you pout too. "Now you're just trying to make me blush more." 

He chuckles, his voice dropping dangerously flirtatious again. "Maybe I am, nothing you can do about it."

"Now I'm pouting." 

"Better not pout in front of me, lass." His suggestive tone makes you shiver. 

"Oh, why's that?" You ask, playing coy. 

"'Cause I'll just have to start kissing ya, might even nibble on those soft little lips." 

You suppress a delighted squeak, already so flustered at even the idea of a kiss. "I'm not hearing a downside." 

"No?" 

"Nope." 

"Might not be gentle with you, though." 

"Good thing that I like it rough." The words are out of you before you can reconsider, but they have exactly the effect you intend as you hear Johnny inhale sharply.

"Ach, you and yer wicked mouth." 

"You have no idea..." 

He lets out a rough exhale, his voice turning gravelly and deep. "Fuck, bonnie." 

"Hey, I'm only repaying the favour, I've been squirming desperately pretty much since I picked up the phone." 

He whistles approvingly, his voice now teasing and playfully menacing. "Just you wait til I'm really in ya head." 

"You're already making good progress." You admit.

"Oh aye?" 

You hum contentedly, eyes flickering shut for a moment. "I'll be imagining your voice as I fall asleep tonight." 

"I'll just have ta send yer voice notes to drift off to, so I can end up in your dreams again." You can almost hear the smirk in his voice. 

"Already spoiling me, too." 

Fuck, how is it this man seems to know exactly what to say? Everything that comes out of his mouth takes root in your brain and sends your thoughts running wild—it's like he's already in your head, or as if someone made him in a lab.

"I'll spoil ya every day, if you're ever mine." 

You groan in frustration, unbelieving that a stranger can be so seemingly perfect. "How are you even single, Johnny?" 

"I could ask you the same. Taking everything in me to not ask for an address right now, if I'm being honest." He huffs a laugh. 

While the idea is thrilling, you know you should have at least some sense of preservation, and shouldn't blurt out your postcode for this strange man you barely know. "I'm worth the wait, I swear." You whisper your promise. 

"I'm sure yer are. But to answer your question, my work keeps me busy a lot, and this lifestyle isn't for everyone." There's a hint of vulnerability to his voice, and you sense such a fact is a sore point in his personal life. 

In the fantasy of all of this, you suppose the reality of the situation isn't something you'd stopped to consider. Life for a man in the military was surely so different from a regular 9-5. "I'm guessing that you're away a lot?" 

"Aye, sometimes for just a few days, sometimes for months, all depends." His admission is soft, as if you can hear in his tone that he's waiting for you to bolt. 

If that's the big 'catch' when it comes to Johnny, you can breathe a sigh of relief. "Yeah, I guess you need someone strong and loyal to hold on and wait for you." 

There's a tense silence, something lingering in the air. 

"Hard to come by, I've found." 

The thought makes your stomach twist in the worst possible way. Johnny, at least on the surface, seems so worthy of love. 

You chance the question that's on the tip of your tongue, hoping Johnny doesn't mind your reckless curiosity. "Have... you been cheated on?" 

"More than once, gets less surprising over the years." He finishes with a sad laugh, as you can tell he tries to infuse humour into the whole thing. 

"That's... horrible." 

Being sent away from your home to face gunfire and warfare, all to keep the people back home safe... only to be betrayed by the people back home who love you, who are supposed to wait for you. It's a gut-wrenching thought, and your heart aches for the man.

"A few of the lads here have a similar story." 

"So the army, not for the faint of heart, and dating an army man, not for the faint of heart." You sigh, though you don't feel put off by the thought.  

"Exactly. That you then? Faint of heart?" 

"No. I mean, inside I'm clingy as hell, and I'd miss you like crazy every day until you got back..." Your emotions overtake you, as you imagine a future where you'd have to kiss the man goodbye for maybe months at a time. "But I get the feeling that what we could have would be worth the wait. Hypothetically of course." 

At that, Johnny laughs, and his light tone returns. "Don't want to get too far ahead of ourselves, aye." 

You don't want to get ahead of yourself, you know you shouldn't, but the way you and Johnny have clicked is unlike anything you've felt before. "But... I have a good feeling." 

"I do too, already dreading putting down the phone." 

"I'm not planning on it anytime soon, even if I have to be up early tomorrow." 

"So do I, alarms set for 4." 

You do not envy his lifestyle one bit.

"That's awful! I'm gonna be so cranky tomorrow, I might have to use my lunch break for a nap." You admit, preemptively yawning into your hand. 

"You one of those perpetually sleepy girls?" 

You nod, even though he can't see it. "The sleepiest." 

"Barnaby is a lucky bear, getting to cuddle up to you so much." 

You burst out laughing at the hint of envy in his words. "Are you... jealous?"

"For now, but soon the tables will turn." He faked an evil laugh, that only makes you giggle harder. 

"Oh, you think you can give better snuggles than him?" 

"Oh, I know I can, bonnie. The bear can't wrap his arms around yer, can't whisper sweet things in your ear..." His voice dips back into that seductive, teasing tone. "... Can't trail his hands down to that pretty little pussy." 

Once more, you flush with desire, every nerve alight as Johnny's words wash over you—although it seems like almost everything he says has your body reacting. "You have an interesting way of cuddling, Johnny."

"Didnae say I was actually gonna do anything once my hands got down there." 

"Well, I wouldn't be opposed." 

"When you're in my arms, you wouldn't have a choice, lass." The dark, dominant voice makes you shiver, makes your submissive instincts awaken. 

"Oh yeah?" 

He hums slowly. "Once you're mine, you leave the choices to me. Johnny knows best, yeah?" 

"Johnny knows best." You whisper breathlessly, the words coming out automatically, like they just feel right.

"Steamin' Jesus, can already tell yer gonna be the death of me." 

"Can't have that, your family won't get your death in service payout!" You laugh awkwardly, before a sense of guilt rears its head. "Sorry, grim joke." 

"I don't mind. You should hear some of the ones my Lt. comes out with, he's a right sick bastard." He chuckles.

"Never want to make light of it and hurt you, though." 

"Telling jokes makes it easier hen, you'll be wishing me dead in no time at all."  

You gasp, shocked by the prospect. "I'd never!" 

"Not even when I deny you from touching yourself for my entire deployment? Months of nothing at all?" The sick grin is evident in his voice. 

"You wouldn't, that's so mean. You're too sweet for that." 

"Aye, for now, but don't you like a little bit of meanness, if yer into men like me..." The edge to his voice and the truth to your words has you trembling. 

"Maybe..." You singsong in response, not wanting to give away just how much you liked the idea of his mean side. 

"Bonnie..." He tuts disapprovingly. "Don't play coy." 

You shudder out a breath as you squeeze your thighs together for relief. "I just don't want you to bully me too much right now, I'm already soaked." 

"Is that right?" He seems delightfully surprised by such a revelation. 

"Mhmm." 

"I'm fucking rock hard if it helps, think I have been since last night..." You hear him shuffle, and you try not to imagine what's happening on the other end of the line, or how he looks lying in bed with said hardness.

When he groans hungrily down the line, you feel yourself quake once more. "The sight of you on your fucking knees... Christ alive." 

You can't help but giggle at your unintended teasing. "It wasn't on purpose, I thought it was cute more than anything." 

"Adorable and naughty, could cum just looking at it." He huffs. 

"You're just flattering me, besides, I could say the same about your picture."

Every part of you flushes thinking of the first photo he sent, all muscle and alpha male—it's like he was the physical embodiment of dominance, and just looking at him makes you want to kneel.

"You like the military get up?" 

"Love it, more than I probably should." 

"Oh aye, bet you'd love for me to order you around?" His words are playful, but underpinned with a hint of promise. "All in due time, eh?" 

"All in due time. What's your rank, anyway?" 

"Sergeant." 

"Wait..." You take a deep breath as you consider your question. "Can I ask for your last name or is it too soon?" 

"Mactavish."

Johnny Mactavish—you should remember to give that a quick Google search later.

"Sergeant Mactavish." You test the name on your tongue, trying to imagine him at work, following and giving orders. 

"Sounds too good when you say it, bonnie." He laughs. 

"Thank you, sergeant." Your affectation of the word is entirely intentional, as you attempt to rile him up with the use of his title. 

The throaty groan that leaves him is addictive.

"What else do you like to be called?" 

"Depends on what you want to call me really, but I like... sir." 

"I like it too, will have to remember that for the future, and just torture you with sergeant in the meantime." You can't help but giggle as you flirt. 

"Oh don't worry, am keeping score." He growls playfully. "Wait til I get ma hands on you, bonnie." 

"You're keeping score?" You gasp, a heady mix of fear and arousal coursing through you almost urges you to be even more of a teasing brat.

"Aye, spanking arm at the ready." 

"My pouting lips are ready." 

"Won't be the only thing you use them lips for."

Fuck fuck fuck. Not that you hadn't thought about it already, hadn't already let your mind drift to what his cock might look like—whether it matches the size of the man—now you're definitely thinking about it. Fixated on it, craving it. 

Some cards are best kept close to your chest so early on, so you change tack and go a different direction with his flirtation. "Yeah, with you in the room, I'd probably be smiling a whole lot." 

The two of you continue to chat, you asking what you can about his work as he asks about yours, and you fill him in on the boring world you live in, which seems especially boring in comparison to taking down cartels and traveling the world.

The conversation never stops being easy, the flirtation and innuendo always right there at the tip of your tongues as you tease each other relentlessly—giving as good as you get. All night, you're practically grinding against your duvet as you get lost in Johnny's dulcet tones, and you find yourself just letting him speak for the sake of getting to hear more of his voice.

As Johnny is about to ask you more about your background, you're overcome with a harsh yawn that you desperately try to stifle. Your eyes have been shut for the last hour at least, but with the command Johnny has over your nervous system right now, it's been easy to stay awake. 

"Tired, bonnie?" He asks, voice laced with sweet concern.

"Yeah..." Your voice falls quiet, as the thought of ending the call makes your throat constrict. "But I don't wanna stop talking." 

"Me either, but av got bad news." 

You know what's coming, and you know it isn't remotely anywhere near the end of the world, despite what your heart is telling you right now. "Go on." 

"I have to go." Even he sounds sad about such an outcome. 

"It's not even that late?" The clock reads 2 am. 

"Gotta get a wee bit of sleep before I hit the gym, and then get off ta work. Don't you have work too?" 

"Work from home tomorrow, so it's not too bad. Not fair though, I wanna keep talking." You admit quietly. It's too much too soon, but you're overwhelmed, the tide of your emotions crashing over the edges.

"Tell yer what. Next time we call, we can try leaving it on while we sleep."

Your heart flips, as you almost whimper at how cute the gesture is. "Are you trying to make me fall in love with you?"

"Obviously." There's that gorgeous laugh again. "Is it working?" 

"Just a little, but that might be the lack of sleep talking, I might be going slightly insane." 

Johnny sighs, and it's clear he's battling to keep a handle on his self-control. "Rest, bonnie, I won't be able to work knowing you're not sleepin'" 

You sigh too, accepting your fate. "Okay, just for you." 

"Just want what's best for you, you need your sleep."  

Your head spins at how utterly sincere he sounds—the care in his voice after such a short amount of time serves to drive you even deeper into this infatuation. "Already?" 

"Can't turn it off, am just protective by nature, bonnie. If you were my girl, you'd have a bedtime." 

And that makes your cunt clench and your heart soar. "Johnny..." You whine.

"Yeah?" 

You hesitate to say what you want to say next, but everything within you is calling out for him, desperate to be in his arms. "Don't make me wait too long to meet you, please." 

His laughter is sweet, conveying a sense of understanding more than anything. "I'll try ma best, supposed to be off on Friday." 

"5 whole days."

"Sure you don't wanna wait a bit longer?" 

You shake your head, mumbling a sound to convey your feelings. "Feels right, don't know how to describe it... do you feel it too?" 

Johnny takes a deep breath, his voice shaking slightly as he speaks. "I do, lass." 

"Good." You couldn't even attempt to fight the idiotic grin on your face, or how warm you feel inside and out. "I'll get some sleep, talk soon." 

"Goodnight, bonnie. Sweet dreams."  

You wait for Johnny to end the call, not wanting to push the button yourself and have his presence fade away. When your screen dims, you resist the urge to text him more, opting instead to put your phone on charge and roll over to Barnaby—wishing it was Johnny instead. 

[steddieas-shegoes]

Chapter 3

of  this post /  Chapter 2 / read it all on ao3 Here

Steve was warm.

He was also naked in a bath that belonged to Eddie.

It was a nice bath, much larger than the one he and Robin rarely used, and full of bubbles that smelled like peppermint.

Eddie told him it would help keep him awake, but also help him stay relaxed.

He was right.

He was also currently making Steve a grilled cheese (his favorite) and letting him listen to music through his phone speaker (his relaxing playlist that he used for his paperwork hours at home). He’d made sure the bath was hot, but not scalding the way Steve usually had it. He didn’t leave the room until Steve was laying in the bath, head resting against the towel Eddie set up along the edge, eyes closed to keep his senses dulled. According to Eddie, that was really important.

He’d lit a few candles and kept them on the side of the sink, then shut off the light before leaving to make Steve’s sandwich.

Steve was still completely unable to speak.

That was more than a little unnerving.

He knew what he needed and wanted to say, but nothing came out.

But he trusted Eddie for some reason. He’d unpack that later.

Maybe.

Probably not.

For a guidance counselor, he wasn’t that great at giving himself guidance. Or counseling.

“Stevie?”

“Hm?”

Hey! Progress! He made a noise!

“Got your sandwich,” Eddie held up the plate and smiled at Steve, who had opened his eyes, but hadn’t bothered to lift his head from where it rested against the back of the tub. He was too comfy. “You wanna dry your hands so you can eat?”

He wanted to eat, but he certainly didn’t want to move. His hands were so warm in the water. If he took them out of the bath they’d be cold and probably pruned, which was not attractive.

Not that it mattered if he was attractive, but he didn’t want Eddie to have anything else to add to the list he’d titled ‘Why Steve Harrington Is Not A Catch.’

“Sunshine, you have to eat something.”

Steve sighed. He blinked at Eddie in hopes that he would understand what he was trying to say.

Eddie sat down on the floor next to the tub and lifted the sandwich up to Steve’s mouth.

That wasn’t what Steve was trying to say, but he couldn’t really argue since he was still apparently nonverbal.

Eddie had briefly explained that that happened a lot during subspace, and sometimes it happened during a drop.

Steve took a bite of the sandwich and groaned.

It was good.

Or maybe he was just really hungry.

Either way, he leaned in to take another bite before he’d even finished chewing the first. He didn’t even care if it was disgusting or rude, he just needed to eat.

“Good boy. But don’t eat too fast, sunshine. Don’t want you to feel sick.”

“Mhm.”

Steve relaxed again, letting Eddie hold the sandwich up to his mouth to take a bite every minute or so.

It was nice. Too nice.

Steve had never been taken care of like this. Even when he was with Nancy, she would usually leave him alone when he was sick or tired, not wanting to expend the energy it takes to get him through an illness or exhaustion.

He was a little needy sometimes. He covered it up well after Nancy, not wanting anyone, not even Robin, to know he sometimes needed someone to care for him.

He hadn’t even noticed he drifted off again until Eddie was running his fingers through his barely wet hair.

“C’mon sunshine. Water’s getting too cold. Gotta get you in bed.”

And then he was in what he assumed was Eddie’s bed in what he assumed were Eddie’s clothes in what he assumed was big trouble.

He let himself feel safe.

He hadn’t felt safe in a long time.

– – – – – – – – – –

When he woke up, he was alone.

He was used to being alone.

In fact, a part of his brain told himself he would have been more worried if he wasn’t alone.

But he wasn’t in his bed, which meant at some point very recently he wasn’t alone.

And then it all came rushing back to him.

This was Eddie’s bed. Eddie, the tattoo artist he barely knew, who helped him through whatever the fuck he went through yesterday.

He turned onto his side and nearly fell out of bed when he saw that he wasn’t alone. Eddie was asleep, body curled up facing Steve, but keeping some distance between them. His breathing was slow and quiet, and his body looked relaxed despite the uncomfortable looking position he was in.

Steve watched as Eddie slept, thinking through the events of the night before.

Eddie had known what to do, what he needed, and how to make sure he got it even when he couldn’t speak. He hadn’t taken advantage of him, even though it would have been easy to do with Steve so out of it.

Eddie let out a snore and Steve couldn’t help the endeared smile that crossed his face.

Nope, you stop that right the fuck now, Steven Harrington.

He was about to slap himself in the face to prevent himself from actually having feelings when Eddie’s eyes shot open.

They stared at each other for a moment, and then Eddie smiled, and Steve was definitely in trouble.

“Hey, sunshine.”

“Um. Hi.”

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah. I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I can get dressed.”

Steve started to sit up, but Eddie reached his hand out to stop him.

“No rush. Seriously, take your time. I don’t have to be at the shop until 12 today.”

Which reminded Steve that it was Sunday, he had nowhere to be, and he was currently very cozy. Maybe he could stay for a little while. Just until he was more awake.

“I don’t wanna take up more of your time. You’ve done enough I think.”

“It’s fine, Steve.” Steve felt himself make a face at the name and Eddie’s brows furrowed. “What?”

“I dunno. Just used to you saying Stevie or Sunshine.”

Eddie smirked at him and Steve felt his stomach drop. Where it dropped to, he didn’t know, and he didn’t think he would ever find it again with the way he felt completely hollowed out.

“It’s just as much for me as it is for you, Stevie. That was pretty intense last night.”

His tone was serious, but he kept a soft smile on his face, probably to make sure Steve didn’t run away without talking about some of it.

“Yeah. I’m sorry about everything. I really wouldn’t have even gotten a tattoo if I thought that would happen.”

“Nothing to apologize for. You can’t control it. How would you have known it would happen?” Eddie raised one brow as if to dare Steve to argue. “Exactly. You didn’t know. I’m glad I was around to help. Hate to think what could’ve happened if it was someone else.”

And, yeah, Steve was worried about that now too. Eddie seemed to know a lot about this, so Steve took this opportunity to ask some questions. He certainly couldn’t ask Robin.

It was a long conversation, and Eddie never talked to him like he was stupid. He was patient and kind, and was honest if he didn’t know the answer to something. He occasionally reached out to brush some of Steve’s hair out of his face or squeeze his hand if he seemed like he couldn’t figure out how to phrase something, bringing him back to the present and keeping his thoughts in order.

They went over how he could prepare for it next time, but Steve said he probably wouldn’t be getting another tattoo anytime soon.

Eddie said he would prefer that he come to him if he did or at least have someone who could help him through it if he went somewhere else.

“So, before the drop…” Steve stopped. He didn’t know what he wanted to say. Well, he did, but he didn’t know if actually wanted to say it out loud.

Eddie looked at him expectantly, an encouraging smile pointed at Steve in a way he couldn’t resist.

“Before the drop. I really felt…good. Like I was untouchable and nothing bad could happen. Is that always like that? The subspace thing?”

“I’ve never experienced subspace. I mean, I’ve tried a couple times when I first started messing around with people, but it just didn’t happen for me. But I’ve been with plenty of subs when they’re floating and they describe it like that, yeah. Like you can feel everything and nothing at once, but everything is good. It’s a high you can’t even get from drugs. Which is why the crash from it can be so fucking awful.”

It still didn’t make sense how Steve got to this point, how he had ever reached that high from needles pressing into his skin and Eddie being nice to him, and how he’d fallen so far so fast.

But what Eddie said was exactly how he’d felt the night before. He wasn’t really able to put it into words like Eddie had.

“So will I always drop if I end up there again?”

“Not if you’re with the right person and you can figure out limits and what causes it for you. Everyone is different. For you, it seems like pain might do it, but you would have to be in the right mindset to get there no matter what.”

“I wasn’t really in any type of mindset last night.”

“Maybe it didn’t seem like it. But it’s hard to really know when you weren’t expecting it.”

Steve bit his lip. How could he have not known? How did he make it to 27 years old not having a clue?

“Hey.” Eddie’s thumb rubbed against his bottom lip, pulling it away from his teeth. “You didn’t know. It’s normal for a lot of people to never know. If you weren’t into the scene before, how would you know? But now you do. And now you just have to be careful in the future. I don’t want anyone to hurt you.”

Steve was gonna die right here in Eddie’s bed. Who the fuck just says shit like that? His heart skipped a beat like in those stupid romance books Nancy used to read.

How dumb.

“Is pouting your natural state?”

Steve pouted harder, bottom lip pushing out as far as he possibly could just to be ridiculous.

It was worth being and feeling ridiculous to hear Eddie’s laugh.

“Listen, I know I just threw a lot at you and you may have more questions. You’ve got my number on that tattoo care sheet, so make sure you call me or text me if you have any questions, okay? And if you want another tattoo and don’t feel comfortable going somewhere else, I’m happy to do it all over again, hopefully without the drop this time.”

“What if I wanted to float again? Without the tattoo.”

Steve should shut his mouth. He really should shut his fucking mouth.

Eddie searched his face, much like he did the night before. What the hell was he looking for?

He glanced behind Steve for a moment and then back at him.

“I’ve gotta get up and get ready. But we have to have a really big talk before I can agree to that.” Steve felt his own face fall, but Eddie quickly continued. “Not because I don’t want to, sunshine. I think you’re at the part of the post-high feeling where you wanna reach it again right away. That can be really bad for you and for me, okay? But I’m done at 7 tonight. You busy?”

Steve was never busy on the weekends unless Robin was dragging him to a club and he’d be damned if he tried to go to a club instead of being with Eddie.

Which is another thing he probably should start unpacking very soon.

“No. I have work at 7:30 in the morning though.”

“Ah, right. Guidance counselor.” Eddie smirked. “Nothing’s gonna happen tonight except talking. You could also…bring stuff to spend the night here if you want.”

Eddie seemed incredibly nervous to even suggest it, and maybe if it was anyone else, Steve would’ve laughed and ran out the door, never to look back at the batshit insane person trying to have him spend the night within 24 hours of knowing him.

But Steve thought about how well he slept in Eddie’s bed with Eddie last night, and he thought about how his bed was pretty lonely, and how maybe waking up here again would make him feel better about having to exist on Monday.

“Yeah. I could do that.”

Eddie’s answering smile was nothing short of blinding.

“Great! Okay. Let’s head on back to the shop so you can get your car. Is Robin home?”

“Probably. She’s probably waiting to see my name on the news with the headline “Dead Body of Idiot Man Trying To Get First Tattoo Found” and a picture of me from the yearbook.”

Eddie let out a loud laugh.

It was nice.

Usually, Steve got annoyed when people laughed so loudly, but Eddie’s was nice.

Eddie was nice.

“So. 7?”

“Yeah, sunshine.”

— — — — — — — — — —

Eddie didn’t let Steve stray far while they got ready to leave.

Steve would never admit how much he loved it.

During the drive back to the shop, Eddie played music Steve had never heard, and probably never would have if not for him. He didn’t exactly like it, but he didn’t mind it, especially when he watched Eddie sing along with a passion Steve hadn’t really ever felt.

They didn’t need to talk and Steve didn’t feel pressured to try.

He hadn’t felt so comfortable around someone since he first met Robin, and he was holding onto the panic he knew was coming when he was alone.

He was still feeling tired. His emotions had been on a hell of a journey over the last 18 hours, and Eddie had already warned him he probably would be feeling the effects of it all for another day or so.

But Eddie also explained that without the drop, it’s worth it.

He wanted to know what that felt like.

And he wanted to know what it felt like with Eddie.

So when they arrived at the shop and said goodbye, Eddie hugged him tightly, holding him against his chest. Steve wasn’t much shorter than him, but he managed to fold himself into him without being uncomfortable, resting his face against his collarbone and breathing in the scent he was already addicted to.

They separated, but neither seemed ready or willing to.

Did Eddie feel this pull the way Steve did? Was Steve just attaching himself to someone who helped him through his most vulnerable time?

As he walked away, he looked over his shoulder to find Eddie staring after him, keeping eyes on him as he walked to his car. He was frowning.

Maybe he did feel as much as Steve. 

Chapter 4

TAG LIST:  @invisibleflame812 @inmoonywetrust @captain-daryn @carlyv @lillemilly @spectrum-spectre @raisedbylibrarians @estrellami-1 @gregre369 @mightbeasleep @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @bornonthesavage @loguine-linguine

[apomaro-mellow]

Whispers of the Night

Steve is content to spread the word of the Lord among the people of Hawkins, unaware that a demon has their sights set on corrupting him.

Ficlet inspiration / Read on AO3

Steve started every morning by thanking the Lord for allowing him to wake up to a new day and promising to spread His good word as gratitude. Which started with watching the morning news while eating breakfast. The morning stories were usually quite tame, catching everyone up to speed in case anything happened the previous night. But in a town as small as Hawkins, it was mostly fluff pieces and traffic.

Before the program ended, it always capped off with a preview of stories to come later in the day. One of Indiana’s senators had been caught having an elicit affair with someone and he had to tune in at eight to find out. Also there was something spreading around the youth that parents should be on the lookout for, also at eight.

Sufficiently notified of what he needed for the day, he set out for his mission. He was entrusted by the Reverend Brenner, who led their parish and was a shepherd for lost souls. Today, Steve would be tending to his own flock, the inmates of the prison just outside the town limits. Usually Jason led the service there, but he had fallen ill and so it was passed on to Steve.

He was more than happy to oblige. Besides, Jason seemed to have ambitions to head a church much larger than Hawkins could hold. Something in a real city. Commendable, to be sure, but Steve was content with their little community. Their goals aligned nicely. As Father Brenner’s son, Jason might’ve been considered the one to take over when his dad stepped down. But he talked more and more everyday about building a grand temple of his own.

And if Father Brenner saw fit to pass his post down to Steve instead, well…

“Don’t get too proud now Harrington”, he said to himself as he parked.

He checked himself over in the mirror first before stopping himself. He’d already made sure his suit was ironed right and hair looked perfect. Well, as perfect as it could be anyway. His tie was blue and neither too loose nor too tight. He entered the prison and went through security just fine. The only thing he needed on him was the Good Book. 

A guard led him to the room he’d be working in and it was simple, as to be expected. They didn’t have a single room dedicated to worship, like a larger facility might. A fact Jason often complai-lamented about. But there was a podium for Steve to put his book and chairs for the men. 

“Did we finally scare that lil boy away?”, one of the inmates gruffed as he came in.

“Poor thing probably got tired of Gus always making passes at him”, said another.

“I only hoot at the pretty ones”, a third, apparently Gus said as he looked Steve up and down. “This one’s safe.”

Steve’s lips tightened together. He wasn’t offended that a random man thought Jason was prettier than him. Certainly not. Vanity was sinful and what did the opinions of his appearance matter? Especially from the likes of these men? Steve blew out a calming breath. They might be criminals, but they were still God’s children. And through him, they might be able to find salvation. He turned to the page Jason had bookmarked for him, planning on continuing from there. 

“I invite you all to join me in prayer”, Steve said, hands coming together as he bowed his head. 

He considered for only a split second that he was making himself vulnerable to these men and he didn’t even know what their crimes were. But there was a guard in the corner and surely they wouldn’t try anything with a clergyman.

Steve read the scriptures as he’d been taught and didn’t falter when the men’s eyes glazed over with what could only be boredom. In an effort to bring up the energy a little for both them and himself, he grabbed the book and walked from behind the podium, pacing back and forth. When he looked up from the pages to meet their gazes, he noticed most of them did seem more engaged. But their eyes were a little lower than he expected. Almost as if they were watching his-

“Ahem”, he cleared his throat while snapping the bible closed. “Let us end today’s service with the Lord’s prayer.” 

He checked the clock discretely and was relieved to find that his time was nearly up anyway. He led them in the closing prayer and then nodded to each of them. All seven. Not a grand congregation, but it was seven potential souls saved. Just as Steve was preparing to leave, he jumped and yelped. 

Someone had just smacked his ass.

“Jackson!”, the guard yelled, coming over.

“Worth it”, he grinned at Steve.

Steve took in the man who had touched him, looking so self-satisfied while Steve was red in the face. A few of the other men looked on appreciatively or with what could only be called jealousy.

“How’d it feel?”

“You could bounce a quarter off it.”

“Shit, I’d wear that ass out.”

“The slacks were a great choice, Father.”

Steve was escorted out before the remarks could turn more vulgar but the damage had been done. Had they ever done anything like that to Jason? If so, why had he never said-Well it was obvious why he’d never say anything. 

Once in his car, he deflated like a balloon. His butt still tingled. It didn’t hurt it was just…different. Steve very vividly remembered the last time he’d been spanked. He had been six. He couldn’t remember what he’d done, just that the lesson had stuck. Do bad things and you get the belt. Even now, as an adult, when he worried about making the right choice, his behind felt the phantom of his parent’s punishments.

This hadn’t felt quite like that. He certainly didn’t enjoy it, no of course not. But it was the principle. Who went around slapping people on the behind and then bragging about it to his buddies?

Steve shook himself as he went to his next stop. A mother of their church had asked for some help in guiding her son back to the path of light. It was an intervention of sorts and Steve had done these a couple times before. It didn’t always end nicely, but it was the effort that counted.

She welcomed him into her home, serving coffee in the living room while calling her son down. The Klines had moved to Hawkins just a few years ago and while Mr. and Mrs. Kline had become regulars quickly, Steve had only seen their son in passing while in town.

He looked just about a couple years younger than Steve, but there was an unease about him as he sat down on the couch next to his mother. Steve had the armchair.

“Where’s your whole…”, Kline Jr gestured to Steve’s body. “The costume?”

“My vestments are saved for church services or other special moments”, Steve explained. “But let’s talk about you. Your mother has expressed some concerns.”

“Devil worship”, Mrs. Kline said suddenly. “He and his friends participate in it and I’ve been telling him to give it up.”

“It’s not devil worship! It’s just a game!”

“Games can start innocent but end dangerously”, Steve said, hands clasped in his lap. He imagined the young man and some of his friends standing around a fire, or perhaps a pentagram made from rocks and calling upon Satan. Something that might seem silly to those who weren’t devout.

“No, it’s literally a game. It’s like, pretend. But with math and you get to make your own character. And mine doesn’t even believe in god, any god! Which means he doesn’t believe in the devil either.”

“They call that atheism and it’s a slippery slope”, Mrs. Kline said. “My sister told me all about it and you’re going to end up just like your cousin if you’re not careful…”

Mrs. Kline ended up taking over the conversation and Steve was left to simply nod and say ‘mhm’ whenever she deigned to turn to him. After about ten minutes, it began to grate on him. He did come to share the Lord’s perspective after all, not just sit and cosign whatever she had probably already told her son.

Then the son had an outburst that brought Steve back to the present. “You’re not even listening to me! That’s the problem! You don’t listen! You don’t even care. I’m not the way you want me to be.”

Mrs. Kline got silent. “...What do you mean?”

Her question was simple and yet the atmosphere shifted. The son looked to be going over the options in his mind before deciding to just stand up and walk off. “Nevermind. Forget it.”

He walked out of the house and seconds later they heard a car drive off and Steve figured that was the end of the visit. He thanked Mrs. Kline for inviting him into her abode and offered his prayers for her family.

When Steve got home that evening, he removed his suit jacket and then checked himself over in the mirror by the door. Normally he did this before leaving just in case there was something that kept him from being presentable. But now, he stood with his back to the mirror and twisted around. In his black slacks, his behind sat rather prominent. He was aware of his body. And he could somewhat understand that if this feature of his was found on a woman, he might be enticed by it.

What he didn’t understand was a man finding it attractive on another man. Hard time changed people he supposed. He was able to catch the news story of the evening. And it turned out that the danger threatening children was the same game Mrs. Kline was worried about. At the time, Steve couldn’t make neither heads nor tails of it. But in the hands of a professional journalist, he was able to learn more about Dungeons and Dragons. 

It did seem ghoulish as he listened to them explain how kids playing the game quickly lost touch with reality. Steve worried as he heard that this was happening across the country. But all he could do for now was take care of his town.

The last part of his bedtime ritual was prayers of course. And most days he was able to fall right to sleep. Tonight though, sleep alluded him. He tried to figure out why, today didn’t feel incredibly eventful besides that slap.

The slap.

To have one guy call him ‘not-as-pretty’ only for another to basically proposition him anyway. Could they make up their minds? Clearly they were all interested anyway. Steve saw the way they watched his behind. But such feelings were immoral. Man should not find pleasure with another man, even when women are unavailable.

And bodily pleasures like that were the devils’ wicked ways in the first place. Steve had been told so years ago, when his own father had caught him with his pants down. Steve hadn’t touched himself since, saving his seed for the woman who would one day bear his fruit. He hadn’t met her yet. But God would present her to him soon. 

Steve’s hopes usually led to sweet dreams, but tonight was different. He was at the podium again. The one in the prison. Except instead of sitting in front of him, the men were on all sides. Words from the day echoed in his head but he couldn’t remember the voice, asking him about his vestments. He needed to change into them. 

He had an audience, but there was nothing wrong with changing in front of men. He’d played on teams in school and spent plenty of time in locker rooms. His tie melted off and he undid the buttons on his shirt. The eyes on him felt hungry. What happened to him happened when he had been fully clothed. What would they do to him if he was naked?

Everything else faded from his body like mist and he was bare for the world. He didn’t want them to just look anymore he wanted them to..to…

Steve was on his back, surrounded by darkness. There was something there, above him, something with hungry red eyes.

He was on his front, rutting desperately into his mattress as the dream slipped away from him and his eyes blinked in the morning light. He froze when he realized what he was doing, still panting on his pillow as he came down from it. He moved his hips a little trying to remember what had happened to get him so worked up but couldn’t recall any details. Only a shadow. A dark phantom that had overwhelmed him and-

He stopped that train of thought when he noticed the wet stickiness inside his underwear. Lord, help him.

Part 2

Taglist

[morning-star-joy]

maybe I don't quite know what to say, but I'm here in your doorway

a stranger's heart without a home Chapter 8

Pairing: rivals to friends with benefits Joel x F!Reader, Post-Outbreak

Chapter Summary: You attend dinner with the Millers, where Tommy and Maria surprise you and Joel with an unexpected question. Later, you seek comfort from bad memories from the unlikely source of your casual sex partner.

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Descriptions of Grief/Anxiety/PTSD/Depression and Mentions of Death of Family Member (Reader's mother), Mentions of Previous Smut and References to Sexual Situations, Language, Alcohol Use

Wordcount: 13k

chapter 1 || chapter 7 || chapter 8 || masterlist

ao3 link

Flowers were grasped tightly in your hands as you shifted awkwardly on Tommy and Maria’s doorstep. You had been dreading this day since Joel had mentioned the invitation, hoping that somehow you could find some way to get out of it. 

But when you had spent most of the week avoiding Tommy’s favorite spots to eat in favor of working through your food storage in your own home, he showed up on your doorstep, leaving no route of escape from whatever plan he was crafting by inviting you to a dinner that Joel was the only other attendee for.

You shifted again, looking down at the small bouquet of lilies and daisies you were clutching. For a moment you pondered if you should knock again, or if you could manage a quick getaway—maybe fake some illness or injury to get out of what would no doubt be a painfully awkward dinner—when the door opened and cut off any plans of fleeing you had been formulating.

“Ah, there you are!” Tommy smiled wide the moment he saw you, the familiar sight of him offering some comfort to the rapid fire thoughts shooting through your mind about the night to come. “I was wondering when you were gonna show up. Almost thought you weren’t going to.”

Tommy’s grin almost overshadowed your nervous, wavering smile as he stepped to the side and waved you inside the house. You had walked the hallways enough times that they were as familiar as your own, if not more so, but you still hesitated before you crossed the threshold.

The door shut behind you, the sound of it clicking shut solidifying in your mind how you were trapped in the formal niceties you were going to have to partake in for the next few hours. You took a moment to ready yourself, sucking in a deep breath through your nose as you square your shoulders back, jumping when Tommy delivered a firm pat between them.

He kept his hand there, directing you towards the dining room in a friendly manner. You couldn’t help but wonder if he knew of your desire to flee, and was making sure you couldn’t duck away by moving you along. 

Turning the corner, you cut through the kitchen that smelled of a delicious home cooked meal right out of the oven, and into the dining room where the other two attendees of tonight’s dinner stood on opposite sides of the room from each other.

You fought to keep your gaze on Maria, exchanging a smile and respectful pleasantries that were commonplace between you before your focus inevitably shifted to the dour man leaning against the other wall. The man who probably also wished he was as far away from this dinner as he could be.

Joel’s eyes met yours in the same moment you looked over at him, his fingers grasping a wine glass filled with dark red alcohol that you hadn’t seen in years. He offered a short nod in silent greeting, one that you returned stiffly. You could only hope that you both could keep up appearances believable enough that Tommy and Maria wouldn’t pick up on anything going on between you. 

You were sure it was way less than likely for Tommy to catch on. The man was too happy to have both you and Joel sharing a meal in the same room as him to notice anything amiss. 

But Maria was another matter entirely.

Jackson’s unofficial leader was frighteningly sharp. In fact, she was the true reason you had been dreading this dinner. You knew that one wrong move could tip her off to your…relationship with Joel, and you weren’t eager to break your second rule with your sex partner any more than you already had.

Luckily, Dina hadn’t pushed you on any suspicions she might have about you and Joel, even after he left your house that one night without the tool box you had claimed he showed up for. You even dared to hope that Dina didn’t read anything into Joel showing up on your doorstep, trying to convince yourself that she had been too distracted by the game night to think about it too deeply.

In the back of your mind, you knew it was a futile hope, but you didn’t give yourself time to dwell on other possibilities. You would deal with Dina’s questions, and come up with any explanations to satisfy her curiosity when that time came.

Maria moving forward pulled your focus from your wandering thoughts back to the present. She smiled kindly at you as she stopped in front of you, reaching out to receive the flowers you had brought for her.

“These are beautiful,” she said warmly, and your returning smile was a bit tight as you tried to figure out what to do with your hands now that they were empty. “Where did you get them?”

“Oh, Dina helped me pick them,” you shrugged casually, forcing your hands down to your sides and trying not to fidget with them as you turned to follow her back into the kitchen. You wanted to escape the familiar weight of the gaze that had fallen onto you from across the room.

Once inside the safety of the kitchen, Maria found a simple vase, filling it with water before carefully placing your simple, hand-picked bouquet inside of it. She shot a glance over your shoulder towards the adjoining dining room, where you could hear the low murmurs of the Miller brothers in conversation with each other, before she gestured for you to come closer to her as she walked further into the kitchen.

You hesitated for a brief second before following her, watching her set the vase down on the kitchen island, next to the casserole dish that emitted a delicious savory scent in waves throughout the room.

“I know you weren’t—” Maria’s head tilted as she paused, as if searching for the right word before continuing carefully, “eager to come tonight.”

“Yeah, well,” you hedged as you shrugged again. You leaned against the island as your arms crossed over your chest, nearly creasing the shirt that you had worn for this occasion, one that was nicer than what you usually wore. “Joel and I aren’t exactly chummy.”

“I’m aware.”

You could feel Maria’s eyes on you, assessing you carefully, but you avoided her gaze in favor of staring out the window above the kitchen sink. It was still light out despite being later in the evening, a telltale sign that summer was here to stay for the time being. You distracted yourself with searching for any hints of approaching dusk in the bright sky as Maria sighed.

“I just wanted to thank you,” she said quietly, and you finally looked over at the honest sentiment. Your brow arched in question, a silent request for further elaboration, and she explained, “It means a lot to Tommy; the two of you showing up tonight, despite your differences.”

A genuine smile flickered on your lips at the mention of Tommy’s happiness, and you met Maria’s eyes so she could see the honesty behind your words as you replied softly, “Anything for Tommy.”

Maria returned your smile with one of her own, a soft upturning of her lips that you only ever saw reserved for her husband and their child. She nodded at you, lifting her hand to gesture back towards the dining room where the two men awaited.

Might as well get on with it, you thought as you held back a sigh. You turned, leading the way back as she picked up the casserole dish and followed you. Your fingers twitched at your sides, itching for something to distract yourself from your heightening nerves as you reentered the room, standing to the side as Maria moved to set the food in the center of the dining table that had finally been cleared of its typical clutter and set for the dinner.

Tommy was laughing at something when you walked in. You assumed it was laughter at a joke he had made himself, and Joel shook his head while he sipped from the glass of wine in his hand to hide a small smile. When they caught sight of you and Maria, Tommy turned away from the conversation with his brother to stride to the two seats on one side of the table.

“Come on, let’s eat,” he said with a charming grin, pulling out one of the seats for Maria to sit in before moving to sit in the one next to her.

It was impossible to hide your brief moment of hesitation as you realized just who you would have as your seating partner for this dinner. 

In retrospect, you should have known it would end up this way, but denial was a strong barrier to common sense. You hadn’t wanted to spare much thought to this dinner as it approached, but now you began to wish that you would have prepared for it more.

Your chair scraped against the floor as you pulled it back, seating yourself as Joel pushed himself off of the opposite wall and rounded the table. He sat silently next to you, placing his wine glass on the table as neither of you made any effort at idle small talk.

Tommy smiled brightly, his gaze flashing between the two of you seated across from him before he reached out for the bottle of wine next to the casserole. He took the empty wine glass in front of you, pouring more than an adequate amount for you, and you couldn’t hold back a soft laugh as he sent you a knowing wink before setting the bottle to the side. You knew then he could tell you were nervous—because of course he did, it was Tommy, he knew you better than anyone—and was supplying you with more than enough wine to settle your nerves.

Picking up the wine glass that was more full than necessary, you averted the gaze of the others as you turned your head to the side, taking a long sip of the much-needed liquid courage. Hopefully it would numb you enough to calm you down. 

You placed the drink back down in front of you, continuing to play with the stem of your glass while Maria began to dish the food onto all of your plates.

“Where’d you manage to get this?” you asked as you turned your drink in your fingers, watching the dark liquid swirl around the clear glass. “In a trade? I didn’t think anybody in Jackson had anything like this left.” 

Wine was a rarity nowadays, and you were impressed by how Tommy and Maria had managed to pull a bottle out for the night. It almost made you more nervous, the symbolism of the rare luxury giving you a sense that this dinner might be more of a special occasion than you had expected.

“Joel found it, actually,” Maria said as she placed a healthy serving on the mentioned man’s plate, and your gaze turned to him even as he stared down at the food instead of looking at you.

“Patrol,” he finally offered the single word as a short answer that barely answered anything at all, and for a moment you thought that was all he was going to say as he continued to look down. You looked away, and he surprised you as he added, “There’s an old liquor store in Teton Village.”

Joel looked up at Tommy, and the younger man nodded with a small smile before thanking his wife for the food she placed on his plate.

“It wasn’t easy,” Tommy elaborated further at your confused look. You had no idea there was a liquor store in the village, but you guessed you had never ventured that far in before. “We just managed to clear out the shops surrounding it this past month.”

You nodded, looking down at the steaming food on your plate. The scent of seasoned potatoes covered in cheese was tempting, but you didn’t pick up your fork just yet as you became lost in thought.

It was impossible to ignore how odd it was, not knowing such a simple fact about what Joel had been doing lately. You had no issues with the rules of your arrangement, but it was a strange phenomenon to still know next to nothing about the man or his daily life when you kept going back to each other, spending mere minutes together for the heady chase of pleasure.

You cleared your throat, shaking that line of thought out of your mind as you glanced up. Tommy picked up his fork, smiling widely at you and Joel across from him as he gestured towards your plates.

“Please, eat,” he urged, before scooping up a large amount of food to take a bite.

Tommy was followed by Maria, and then more slowly by you and Joel. The four of you fell into a silence as you ate that wasn’t completely awkward, but was still far from comfortable. Maria mainly kept her curiosity to herself, but Tommy was less subtle about his glances towards you and Joel. You knew he couldn’t let the silence linger for long, and after no more than a minute or two of eating in a tentative quiet, he finally broke it with an attempt at conversation. 

“So,” Tommy started after taking a sip from his wine, setting it down and glancing towards you with a warm, friendly gaze. “How have your patrols been going lately?”

You shrugged a shoulder as you scooped up another bite of your meal with your fork.

“They’re going well,” you said honestly, speaking more towards Tommy and Maria, still avoiding looking at Joel. “Jesse is really holding his own. He was right about being ready to patrol, he might even catch up to my count soon.”

“Must feel good to finally win at a contest, at least for now.” Tommy smirked, and you shot him a playful glare as you chewed your food and stabbed at another bite.

“Shut up,” you mumbled after you swallowed, and he chuckled to himself as Maria shook her head at the two of you from beside him, though her gaze wasn’t judgmental in the slightest.

Maria had always known how important you and Tommy were to each other, and she had no issue with your fixture in his life. The two of you had shown up to Jackson together, after all. It’s not like she could have torn you away from each other once you settled into her town, even if she had wanted to. 

One thing has puzzled you on more than one occasion though, since Joel’s return: Maria’s issue with his influence in Tommy’s life, and not your own. You guessed she may just see you as less of a threat than Joel; maybe because you were younger, or because she didn’t know how similar your life in the Fireflies was to the Miller brothers’ lives as hunters years ago. The only real difference was the perspective of horrible acts being worthy in the name of an ideal, instead of throwing away the sake of morals for murder committed in order to survive.

You stabbed the next piece of food a bit harder than necessary, drawing the attention of Joel from where he sat beside you. His gaze on you was palpable, and you felt a familiar heat spread through you at his attention that you tried to ignore as you shoved the food into your mouth.

Not here, you told yourself, listening to Tommy and Maria talk idly about some kind of progress with some of the greenhouse crops as you ate in silence. Hardly any food was left on your plate now, and you were not looking forward to losing the distraction that chewing offered from having to make chit chat with your dinner partner.

Luckily, you didn’t have to worry about making chit-chat with Joel as Tommy asked him a question.

“So big bro,” Tommy started, turning back to where Joel sat diagonally across from him, his brow arching as he lowered his fork from his mouth to scoop another piece of casserole off his plate, “what happened to Esther?”

You nearly choked on your food at the abrupt mention of the woman Joel had been on a date with, but you forced yourself to swallow down the bite of potatoes. Covering your mouth with your fist, you cleared your throat of any food that may have gotten stuck, your gaze remaining carefully fixed on your plate as you saw Joel’s fork freeze midway to his plate out of the corner of your eye.

“What do you mean?” Joel asked slowly, carefully, before stabbing another bite of food.

You resisted the urge to look over at him, instead busying yourself with picking up your wine glass for another much needed sip at this topic change.

It didn’t bother you. It shouldn’t bother you. You and Joel were just casually fucking; what he chose to pursue in terms of a real relationship didn’t concern you at all.

But if he was still seeing Esther…maybe it should concern you. At least on her behalf. You held back a wince at the thought that he might still be seeing this woman, someone who may genuinely like him, who he could be happy with—and here you were, fucking it up for them.

You take another, longer sip from your wine, setting the glass back down as Tommy’s reply to Joel’s question makes you pause in your line of thought.

“I ran into her the other day.” Tommy’s words seemed to be just as carefully spoken as Joel’s, and you glanced up at your friend for a moment before looking back down at your food when you saw Maria looking at you. Fuck. “She said she hasn’t heard from you since your date.”

Oh.

You stop tapping your fingers against your wine glass, stilling yourself from any subconscious, nervous movements you had been making at the new information.

Joel shifted beside you, and you risked a glance at him from the corner of your eye. His head was bent, gaze focused on the small bit of casserole he had left on his plate. You were about to look away, distract yourself from a conversation that had nothing to do with you, when Joel’s gaze darted to you and back away again in the blink of an eye.

“It’s not a big deal,” Joel muttered, shoving another bite of food into his mouth, probably to give himself an excuse not to say anything else.

You forced yourself to look away slowly, trying not to appear any more suspicious than you may already seem as you returned to eating your food, but not before you saw the deep frown on Tommy’s face, his brow wrinkled in confusion and concern as he watched his brother.

“I just thought you liked her, is all,” he said quietly, his voice probing but not unkind, and you focused on a space on the wall behind him as you took another bite of your food to keep your mouth shut, in case you might say anything you would regret.

Joel shook his head beside you, but this time you didn’t look back to see his reaction. You weren’t so sure you wanted to see whatever was showing on his face at that moment.

“That’s not the issue,” Joel murmured, and a feeling akin to guilt began to form a pit in your stomach, twisting uncomfortably as you swallowed your food with more difficulty.

Fuck, this was your fault, you realized as you reached for your wine again, cursing how little of the alcohol remained in your glass now. It’s not like you cared so deeply about Joel’s happiness—but Tommy did. And he was looking at Joel in sadness now, confused as to why his brother wasn’t pursuing a path of happiness, not knowing that the obstacle in that path was you.

“What—”

Tommy was interrupted by Maria nudging him gently, and you saw her subtly shake her head at her husband, a sign to let it go. And he did drop the topic, but not without a heavy sigh as he turned back to his food.

The silence in the room was even more awkward than before, now uncomfortably so as you all quickly went about finishing your meals without any further conversation.

Reaching for your wine glass for another much needed sip of alcohol, the stem nearly slipped from your fingers as you felt the brush of a knee against yours. You focused on wrapping your fingers securely around the glass, thankful that Tommy and Maria hadn’t noticed the sloshing of the liquid in the glass as you hid any reaction on your face behind taking a sip.

You told yourself it was an innocent mistake, the brief touch gone as soon as it came, but you weren’t able to resist sparing a glance towards Joel for too long. Glancing at him from the corner of your eye, you saw he was finishing off the rest of the food on his plate, his movements less aggressive than the way he usually ate. Maybe he had also noticed that this night might be more than it seemed, and was acting more polite because of it. 

Or maybe it was the nicer flannel he was wearing tonight, the fabric stretching tighter across the muscles you knew coiled in his arms than they did in the shirts he usually wore. You knew just how strong those arms were from the times he had lifted you up or held you down, grunting into your ear as he fucked into you—

You blinked rapidly, clearing your throat as you looked back down towards your plate quicker than you had meant to because Jesus fucking Christ, you weren’t going to think about fucking your best friend’s brother when said best friend was right across the table from you.

When Joel didn’t acknowledge your existence, and the touch of his knee against yours didn’t repeat itself, you knew that it really had been a genuine mishap. Your shoulders relaxed as you looked back at the couple across from you who hadn’t seemed to notice anything amiss, relieved that the touch from Joel had been an accident, even as a strange feeling that you couldn’t place was nagging you from the back of your mind. Probably that guilt again, you realized with a wince as you set your wine glass back down.

With the plates polished off and the glasses of wine the only thing that remained, Tommy leaned back in his seat, glancing towards where Maria sat at his side. You watched her give the man a smile and an encouraging nod, and your muscles tensed with unease even as Tommy relaxed, his hand coming to rest in hers as he turned back to you and Joel.

“I have to admit, we didn’t invite you here just for dinner,” Tommy said slowly, and you arched an eyebrow. Even though you had a feeling that was the case, your curiosity was piqued now that your friend had finally admitted to having an ulterior motive.

“I could’ve guessed that,” Joel muttered at your side, earning a sharp look from Maria before she turned back to Tommy, her gaze softening as her husband seemed to hesitate with a forced laugh.

“Yeah, well,” Tommy cleared his throat, his grip tightening in Maria’s as he continued, “you’re both here because you’re family. And as a family, we had something we wanted to ask you.”

The sentiment took you by surprise, but you knew Tommy like the back of your hand now, and you knew his words were honest. It made you forget about the awkwardness and guilt momentarily, a warmth blooming through your chest as you thought the word over.

Family. You never would have thought that your family would include Joel Miller, of all people, but at this point you figured that you just couldn’t get rid of him. And if a family with Tommy meant that Joel had to be there, hell, you’d take that for him. Anything for Tommy.

Your friend paused, looking at Maria again for one last burst of encouragement before turning back to you, saying something that made your mind completely blank for a moment.

“We’d like to ask you to be Hope’s godparents.”

Joel choked as your eyes widened in surprise.

Tommy leaned forward in concern, about to stand when Joel waved him off, still coughing from accidentally inhaling his wine as Maria looked back and forth from his startled face to your shocked one. You blinked a few times, unsure of what to say as Tommy sank back into his seat.

After a few more seconds of Joel coughing where you continued to sit in stunned silence, Joel cleared his throat, shaking his head as he looked back at Tommy and Maria.

“You what?” he croaked, looking and sounding as taken aback as you felt.

“Godparents?” you repeated at the same time Joel spoke, taking turns staring at each person currently seated around the table.

Tommy and Maria shared a glance, the former looking uncertain as the latter looked back towards you and nodded with confidence.

“Yes, godparents,” she confirmed, interlocking her hands and resting them on the table in front of her. Her face darkened, the mood turning more serious with her next words, “Just in case anything were to happen to Tommy and me. We don’t want to take any risks.”

The air turned more somber, the atmosphere heavier as it pressed around you, and you shook your head to try and make it disappear.

“Nothing’s going to happen in Jackson,” you muttered, trying to sound confident even as you weren’t so sure of the words yourself. 

Although nothing had happened in Jackson yet, your paranoia would never let you rest easy, even inside these carefully guarded walls.

“You can never know for sure,” Maria said to you, her gaze telling you she knew exactly what you were thinking. 

Your gaze darted back to your wine glass, watching your distorted reflection in the crystal as Joel shifted beside you.

“Like I said, you’re family.” Tommy’s voice was soft yet urgent with the sentiment, and only with the sincerity of those words did you look back up at him. “We’d feel better if we knew Hope would be safe. Just in case.”

He was looking at both you and Joel, speaking to you equally, and you couldn’t help but think how foolish you and Joel had been to hate each other for so long because of your relationships with Tommy. It was so stupid to hold such disdain for each other because of that jealousy of each other, that envy to be that strong fixture in Tommy’s life, when clearly he had enough room for both of you.

“Of course,” you said softly, in the same moment that Joel nodded solemnly. His gaze was hardened into a sheer determination that you had seen before, and you didn’t doubt the man’s commitment for one second. Somehow, you doubted Joel wouldn’t do anything it took to protect those he cared about.

Just like you, a voice in the back of your head spoke, but you ignored it.

Tommy smiled again, the gesture more genuine and less forced this time, his shoulders loosening from the tension that had made them nearly bunch up around his ears. He turned his smile towards Maria, who reached out to squeeze his hand again with a gentle smile of her own, the couple seeming to find solace in the promise you and Joel just made.

The moment of peace was interrupted by the sound of the very baby you were discussing crying from upstairs, and Tommy stood swiftly before Maria could even begin to rise from her seat.

“It’s okay, I got it,” he said softly as he bent down to place a soft, chaste kiss full of tender affection to the top of her head before bounding out of the room towards the staircase. 

You heard his steps echo up the stairs as Maria turned towards you and Joel, offering a kind smile as she stood.

“You can move into the living room,” she said as she began to stack the empty plates on the table. “I’ll get this taken care of.”

Standing quickly, you picked up your own plate as you walked towards her.

“I can help—”

“You’re our guests,” Maria interrupted, giving you a look that said she was accepting no nonsense as she took the plate from your hands. “Go make yourself comfortable. I’ve got this.”

She walked into the kitchen with the dishes, her departure halting any further protests from you as you shifted awkwardly on your feet. You resisted looking back at Joel as you picked your wine glass back up from the table, your steps slow as you walked into the living room, out of view and earshot of Maria washing the dishes on the other side of the house.

You turned in place, too restless with the weight of this new promise you had just made to sit down and twiddle your thumbs. Not only was this a large commitment—probably the biggest one you’ve made in your new life—but you were doing it with Joel.

God fucking dammit, you thought to yourself as you paced the length of the room. Why did everything in your life always seem to come back to Joel fucking Miller?

First, you had accepted your attraction to him, indulging in one fleeting moment of passion with him before he had left. Then, you had accepted him leaving, content to let the image of him fade into your memories.

But then he had returned, and you had been forced to accept his new awkward placement in your life in Jackson, learning how to deal with him in proximity to Tommy. Then there were patrols with him, and you had begrudgingly accepted that maybe, maybe he wasn’t as terrible as he seemed. You got used to Joel being around.

Then you just had to go and fuck him again, and even after that you had resisted each other. A futile effort, and eventually you had come to accept that you just couldn’t stay away, settling into your new routine of casual sex with Joel Miller.

But now he was family? You were both godparents of the same child?

How would you keep up this charade? How could you keep Tommy from knowing that you were fucking his brother when you had to show up at the same dinners and birthday parties? How could you look at your own reflection in the mirror, not hating yourself for robbing Joel at his chance of a happy, content life just because you wanted his dick?

Taking a long drink from your wine, you heaved a deep sigh, brushing a hand over your hair as you tried to calm yourself down. You looked around the room, trying to distract yourself, before slowly coming to a stop in front of the fireplace, your eyes lingering on the small shrine that had been there for almost as long as you could remember. The burnt down candles had been recently replaced with new ones, and a somber mood overtook your cascading spiral of emotions as you set your glass down on the coffee table before walking up to it.

Flames sparked to life as you struck one of the matches that you knew rested on the mantle next to the memorial. You carefully lit both of the candles under each name, sparing a moment of quiet respect for the short lives that were lost too soon after you shook the match’s flame out, the faint trail of smoke drifting away.

You were being selfish. This wasn’t about you. It wasn’t about your own selfish desires. Tommy was asking you to keep his daughter safe, because he trusted you. Because you were family. That was all that really mattered now.

Folding your hands in front of you, you gazed at the names as you made a solemn vow to yourself that you wouldn’t let Hope Miller’s life be cut short. Too much loss had occurred in the horrors of this world, and you would do anything in your power to not let it happen again. Not to Tommy. Not to his child.

After another moment of quiet, you turned around, blinking in surprise when you saw that Joel was standing in the room with you, his eyes fixed on you during your silent act of remembrance for the lives you never knew, but could understand the loss of.

His guard was up as much as always, not that you had expected otherwise. You somehow got the sense that he had built even more walls between you at this moment, his emotions indistinguishable in the severity of his gaze as he observed you closely.

Joel looked back at the shrine you had lit, and some unreadable look passed through his eyes in an instant so fast that you couldn’t even begin to try and decipher it before it was gone again.

You paused, watching as the blank look on his face shifted slightly, turning into a gaze more…somber. Glancing back at the names and years, you wondered not for the first time who they were. You had always figured that they were both related to Maria, as Tommy had never mentioned those names, or revealed anything about either of those lost lives to you. 

But now you wondered if you were wrong. You pondered whether Tommy had been related to them somehow, and if Joel had actually known one or both of the children who had never gotten a chance at a full life because of the Outbreak.

Joel didn’t say anything, and neither did you, even as he moved to stand by your side. You both looked at the shrine in silence, a pensiveness falling between you, and you wondered if he was contemplating his new role in the baby’s life as much as you were pondering yours.

“Do you…” Joel trailed off, clearing his throat as you looked over at him. You could only see his side profile from this angle, and not for the first time you found yourself realizing how handsome the older man was. “Do you know who they were?”

You looked back at the names and the lit candles that honored their lives. Shaking your head gently, you watched the flames flicker as the wax began to melt and drip down the sides before you answered.

“No,” you said quietly. In that moment, you wondered who those kids were; how they lived, why they died, what their hopes and dreams were before it was cruelly robbed of them. “It never felt right to ask.”

Joel shifted slightly beside you, but you kept looking forward. For some reason you felt like you couldn’t look directly at him at that moment.

“Why did you do that, then?” he asked, the question barely more than a murmur. Joel’s voice wasn’t judgmental, just…inquisitive, like he actually wanted to know the reasons behind your actions.

You shrugged, head tilting as you watched one of the flames flicker wildly for a moment. Another chunk of wax melted down one of the candles as you considered the reasons behind your own actions, and how to describe them to the stoic man at your side.

“Because they meant something to someone,” you finally found the words slowly leaving your mouth, your voice almost vulnerable with the memories pressing against the barrier in the back of your mind; trying to burst through, trying to make you remember, to hold you hostage until you broke under the weight of them again. “Somebody still feels their loss. That’s enough for me to remember them.”

A solemn silence fell between you, a sense of melancholy in the air as you watched the candles continue to burn. After a prolonged moment when neither of you said anything, you dared to spare a glance towards Joel, your heart lurching in surprise when you saw he was already looking at you.

His eyes were still guarded, but there were cracks in that impenetrable stone that hadn’t been there before. There was something almost akin to vulnerability peeking through his dark gaze, and your breath got caught in your throat as you froze in place.

He was regarding you in a way that he hadn’t before, similar to the look he had given you during your patrol to the ski lodge when he had offered you a hand to help you up. Neither of you found any words to explain whatever you were feeling at that moment, and eventually you both broke the gaze, hastily looking away from each other at the same time.

Joel cleared his throat, looking down at his boots with his arms crossed as your fingers twitched at your side. You leaned down, picking up the wine glass you had set down on the table so you had something to hold in your hands. Joel’s glass was resting there as well, and you hesitated briefly before picking it up, passing it to him before you lifted your own.

“To Hope,” you said quietly, your gaze one of solemn dedication, and Joel nodded just as seriously as he raised his own glass a fraction.

“To Hope,” he affirmed lowly, and you both sipped from your drinks, looking away from each other as you fell into a meditative quiet that held a conviction for your new parts in this child’s life, no matter what differences or complications may remain between you.

You didn’t see Joel for several days after the dinner with Tommy and Maria.

It was the longest time you had gone without satisfying a base need together since you had started your arrangement. You were a bit confused and, if you were being completely honest with yourself—which you never were—hurt. He had given no indication what he was thinking, he just…stopped showing up.

After going more than three days without the scruffy man showing up on your doorstep, you had to assume that maybe he didn’t want to do this anymore. Maybe it was too complicated now, too messy with the way Tommy wanted you both to be more involved in his daughter’s life. 

Your own stubborn pride made it impossible for you to go to him. The thought of being turned away from his doorstep made your stomach turn in a way that you hated, and you shoved any further thoughts of Joel out of your head as you turned over in your bed to try and get some restless sleep after a week had passed since the dinner.

Silent pleas you always made for your dreams to be kind were not answered that night.

In your sleep, you saw the face of your mother. 

Your subconscious didn’t drag forth memories of her often, and you didn’t know whether it was because they hurt too much, or if enough time had passed that it was harder to remember her. In those dreams, her face was more a blur than a tangible thing. Just a ghost of what you could have been one day, hair the same color as yours framing her features that you had forgotten through time.

Though you couldn’t see her clearly, her face swimming in the haze of your dreams, you knew she was smiling. Joyful laughter filled with relief left her lips that were upturned in the brightest smile you had ever seen from her. A matching smile was on your own face, as you looked down at what she was holding close to her heart as it was still beating.

In a flash the laughter was gone, her mouth only making a terrible shrieking, crying sound filled with insurmountable grief. Your father was there—you think he was there before too, but he was always so quiet, not seen unless he wanted to be. He didn’t have a choice now, as your mother cried and crawled along the dirty ground, hands clawing at the bleeding indentations of teeth on her wrist.

Your father told you to go. 

You didn’t know where to go.

You didn’t know where you could go, didn’t know what places existed without your mother to lead you there.

Knees pulled up as you hid in the attic, you tried not to remember the gunshot, or the crying as you looked down at what you were now holding close to your chest.

When the dreams receded, they left sharply, leaving you gasping for air with an ache in your chest as you tumbled from your bed. You hit the floor hard, bare forearms pressed against the cold wooden floorboards to hold yourself up, fighting the heaving sobs that threatened to overwhelm you.

It’s not real, you told yourself. It’s not real, but it was once. This wasn’t a dream, it was a memory. A cruel retelling of your life that you could never fully escape, and your hands balled into fists as you fought the tears, even as they streamed down your cheeks.

You focused on breathing. A slow inhale in through the nose, exhale through the mouth. Just like when you were holding a rifle, narrowing in on a target. You tried to replicate the calm from that feeling, the certainty that you were in complete control before you took a shot. A voice echoed in the back of your mind that it was sick and demented to find peace through searching for a kill, but it was your purpose now. Maybe your only purpose.

No, you had another purpose now, one you tried to remind yourself of even as your mind was slipping. 

Tommy. Dina. Hope. Family. Protection.

Walls in your mind, walls around your heart were slowly rebuilt with cracked, bleeding hands as you pushed yourself to a sitting position. Your head leaned back against the bed as you took shaky breaths, collecting the pieces of yourself again as best you could, even after losing all the shards that made you over the years. Even as you knew that without those missing pieces, you could never make yourself whole again.

After some recollection, when you put yourself back together again well enough that you felt like you were still here, still sane enough to keep going, your eyes slowly opened to see the light of dawn peeking through your curtains to illuminate your small, plain bedroom. You pushed yourself onto shaky legs, avoiding looking at the lone, old photograph on your bedside table, one of the only reminders that you still had of those lost pieces of you as you moved to get dressed.

No point trying to get back to sleep again now. Once you were wearing your least worn jeans and a tank top so your sweaty skin could cool, you moved out into the hallway towards your kitchen. A cup of coffee was necessary to start this day, and when you opened up the can where you kept the grounds, you swore aloud to yourself.

“Fuck,” you hissed, slamming the lid back down when you realized it was empty, resisting the urge to throw the can from pent-up emotions you weren’t sure you could keep from boiling to the surface for much longer.

You tapped your foot impatiently against the ground, chewing the inside of your cheek as you considered your options. Going to Tommy’s was out of the question—even if you managed to pull yourself together enough that you didn’t look like you were completely falling apart, he would still be able to tell something was off. He would fret over you, and even though you loved him dearly, his concern would be suffocating right now.

It’s not like you could go to Dina, either. Even if the teenager had her own place or a supply of coffee, you would sooner die than let her see you in such a sorry state. No, there was no way you would let her see you like this.

Then who was left? Those two were all you had, and suddenly it hit like a punch to the chest that the people who you had left, you were there for them. Yes, you knew that they would drop everything for you in a heartbeat if it came down to it, but would you let them? 

Or would you die for them first?

You knew the answer as well as you knew that the sky was blue or the world was fucked, and your head dropped into your hands as you let out a shaky breath. If you stayed here for a second longer, you felt like you were going to lose your mind. You just needed a moment to breathe, with the peace of a hot cup of coffee and nobody to care enough to ask you questions.

I guess I do owe you one, huh?

Your foot suddenly stopped tapping anxiously as you froze, recalling the words spoken in a deep voice annoyingly well, and you shook your head.

No. No, there was no way.

You turned around, still shaking your head as you crossed your arms, leaning against the countertop as you tried to shut the idea down. No way in hell.

The sight of a recently cleaned mug turned upside down to dry next to your sink, the ceramic engraving of the strong image of a moose gleaming back at you, made you let out a deep sigh.

“Fuck,” you muttered to yourself again, before moving to your entryway to pull on your shoes and head out the door.

Because there actually was one person who didn’t give enough of a shit to ask you questions. 

Somebody who still owed you a cup of coffee.

Music carried softly throughout the room as Joel’s fingers gently strummed the strings of the guitar. He finally had an instrument of his own after months of carving it, having given the other guitar he found to Ellie not long after their return to Jackson, so that he could teach her how to play. They still had a few lessons a week, and he cherished that time spent with her, an activity that offered further bonding between them, even as he could still feel her slowly slipping away at times.

Joel also appreciated the moments when he could be alone with his own guitar, forgetting whatever he was thinking about in favor of playing out the songs he could remember from before the world ended. Right now, though, he was idly strumming chord progressions, no particular melody or lyrics in his mind as he let his mind wander, finding a rare sensation of solace from the familiarity of the strings dancing under his calluses.

Nowadays, it seemed like it never took long for his thoughts to turn to a certain, irritable woman when he allowed himself moments like these. He huffed quietly to himself, his fingers pausing their strumming as he rested them against the wood of the guitar.

A week had passed since the dinner where Tommy and Maria had asked them to be the godparents of the new baby. Joel had been surprised to say the least, but he was also grateful for the inclusion in the child’s life, especially considering Maria’s opinion of him that he knew well.

Joel hadn’t forgotten the time when Tommy had stopped calling him on the radio, forcing him to seek out his younger brother just to know that he was still alive. There was a part of him that still held a bit of a grudge towards Maria for that, even as he tried to set it aside for the sake of the new life Tommy had carved out for himself.

Maria’s continued distrust towards Joel was obvious, but most of the time he didn’t let it bother him. Even as he saw how his brother’s wife was much warmer towards the woman who had sat beside him at the dinner. A familiar jealousy prickled in the back of his mind, the gnawing, negative thoughts telling him that he wasn’t as good or trusted as she was in Tommy’s new life. 

But those doubts had been alleviated when Tommy had asked not just one, but both of them to take a more important role in Hope’s life. 

Together.

What may have surprised him the most, though, was when the closed-off woman had shown a moment of softness when she lit the memorial Tommy and Maria had for two lost children, one of them being Joel’s own child.

It was clear she didn’t know who Sarah was, no hint of recognition in her eyes as she looked back at him and answered his vague questions about the reasons behind her actions. 

There had been a faint hint of understanding behind her eyes as she spoke, a sympathy that didn’t come from pity, but from somewhere else. Maybe her own experiences, Joel mused as he looked down at the guitar in his hands now. 

He still knew next to nothing about the woman, even with how many times they found themselves falling into each other's arms to chase the tempting thrill of pleasure. And in that moment of the quiet break of dawn, he couldn’t help but wonder about just who she had been before she ended up in Jackson.

Joel suddenly remembered the game night he had been unwillingly dragged into. He remembered the laughter from Ellie that had become so rare echoing in the plainly decorated living room, a sound that had made him think that maybe the situation wasn’t so bad after all.

For what seemed like the first time, Joel had observed that living room, realizing that he had never taken the time to really look around it before, even with how many times he had found himself in there in recent weeks. He noticed that it was remarkably empty, lacking any personal touches in favor of the bare necessities of a couch, coffee table, chairs and lights. There was no art hanging on the walls, no decorations or items that signified that anybody actually lived there.

The only thing that had caught his attention was a framed piece of paper on the mantle of the fireplace, the bright colors on it pulling him closer out of a rare moment of curiosity that he still didn’t know why he indulged in.

When he got closer, Joel saw that the old white scrap of paper was covered in the stark colors of crayons. There were shapes he could only guess were trees on the edges of the drawing, brown bark and green leaves that were more smudges than what they were trying to depict. Clearly a young child’s drawing, he had thought as his eye was drawn to the center of the art, seeing two stick figures with their arms connected where hands would be, one taller than the other.

Joel had looked away when she approached, feeling a rare sense of guilt as he realized he had been snooping. It was unintentional, and he quickly looked away, leaning his back against the mantle as he considered the woman beside him, seeing a part of her that he hadn’t realized existed until then. A part that may hit far too close to home, the woman possibly more similar to him than he could have ever imagined.

It was a side of her that he felt no right to try and peer into, given how she never said so much as a sentence about herself or her history. Joel kept any musings to himself, buried in the back of his mind out of respect for her wanting to keep her past to herself, because it’s what he would want done for him.

Besides, even if he did want to broach that topic with her, their rules forbade it. And he wasn’t eager to break that barrier that still separated them any time soon. He wasn’t interested in anything more than physical with the woman; there was no reason to try and get to know her better, no matter how happy it would make Tommy.

With a sigh, Joel placed his guitar back in its rest against his bedroom wall, standing with a quiet grunt from stretching his muscles. He shuffled down the hallway, the light of dawn peeking through the windows guiding his way. Running his hand through his hair to try and comb the curls that had gotten messy from sleep, he shook his head sharply, trying to erase the strange guilt he felt as he remembered how much time had passed since he had sought the woman out.

It’s not like he hadn’t wanted to. Fuck, he had woken up hard on more than one morning just from the tantalizing memories of her that haunted his sleep. He ached to feel the soft skin of her thighs again as he gripped them and fucked into her, to feel her quivering from orgasm after orgasm beneath him, her moans filling the heated air for only him to hear until the feeling of her all around him made him cum on her.

Joel could feel the arousal stirring inside of him even now at the turn his thoughts had taken, and he shook his head sharply again, brows furrowing in annoyance as he gripped the banister of his stairs tighter than he needed to.

He hadn’t avoided her out of a lack of desire. If anything, the absence from her presence was only making his lust grow stronger. Joel didn’t know how long he could keep himself off of her the next time they met, and he groaned quietly to himself once his feet hit level ground after descending the staircase completely.

No, it wasn’t that his interest in her had died. 

It may just be that it had grown too strong.

Joel didn’t like the similarities he had seen between them in recent weeks. He had seen hints of those similarities in the past, glimmering shards of her history that looked too much like his own. 

But it was becoming harder to ignore, and although it was selfish and unfair to them both, he thought that avoiding her would make it easier to keep that third rule of their arrangement, even if it stopped them from being able to fuck at all.

Needing a cup of coffee to restart his mind for the day ahead, Joel began to head towards the kitchen when a knock on his front door made him pause.

He stared at it, certain he had misheard for a moment before it sounded again, louder this time, and he frowned.

Slowly making his way forward, Joel’s frown only deepened when the knocking increased in frequency, the sound not only louder, but not stopping now. He huffed, picking up his pace until he was at the door, opening it in a swift yank and blinking as the knocker nearly stumbled forward into him.

When they looked up at him, and he saw the familiar color of the eyes, Joel held back a sigh.

Because of course it was her. He had to stop thinking about her altogether, because it seemed like he only unwillingly summoned her every time he did.

Joel’s eyes darted over her head to the brightening dawn sky as she straightened back up, his face carefully blank as he looked back down at her.

“It’s not night,” he said simply, half-tempted to shut the door in her face after the statement, and although his hand tightened on the doorknob, he couldn’t find it in himself to close it.

Because even though she smiled up at him, the easy confidence she always had unfazed by his gruff tone, there was something in her eyes that he had never seen from her before. At least, not so clearly.

“Maybe I’m not here to fuck,” she said bluntly, and Joel huffed as he leaned back on the balls of his feet. Hand still on the doorknob, and not letting her in, but he still stood there. Still listening.

His brow arching was the only signal for her to continue speaking, and she sighed heavily as she shifted. Joel noticed then that there were goosebumps on her skin, her arms completely bare from the tank top she was wearing, and his brows furrowed.

“I’m out of coffee,” she finally said, looking up at him with a gaze as carefully guarded as his own, but that same look still broke through even her own defenses. He couldn’t place a name to it, but he could recognize it. And for some reason, that made some old, forgotten ache in his chest flare up again.

“I did owe you,” Joel finally murmured. Still, he didn’t move, only stared at her for a moment longer as she continued to meet his gaze head-on.

Somehow, he got the sense that she was daring him to say something about it. To say something about that look in her eyes, to give her a reason to turn around and leave when he mentioned it.

Instead, Joel stepped to the side, allowing her a clear path inside.

“After you,” he sighed, and she rolled her eyes as she stepped inside. It wasn’t a bitter reaction, but it wasn’t as sarcastically playful as he sometimes saw from her either. It was just…tired.

“Always such a Southern gentleman,” she muttered to herself, and Joel scoffed to himself to cover a quiet huff of a laugh as he shut the door behind her.

He didn’t need to show her the way to the kitchen, and she didn’t need to ask. Joel only followed silently after her, letting her sit herself comfortably at the table they had fucked on not that long ago. An act that had started their descent into a lustful relationship that was getting harder and harder to make sense of.

Joel left her alone as he busied himself with pulling out his coffee reserves. His own supply was running low, but he didn’t mention that as he set the coffee pot on the lit stove. He leaned against the counter, his body turned halfway towards her even as he looked away from her.

No attempt at conversation was made by either of them. In fact, the situation felt no different from when they sought each other out to fuck. He was just a person who happened to have something that she needed; only now it was coffee instead of a quick fuck.

Joel didn’t complain, because he did owe her. When the coffee was done, he poured the bitter liquid into two plain white mugs, pushing one towards her as he gestured towards where his modest coffee station was.

Only when she rose to her feet to collect her mug, her back turned to him as she adjusted her coffee to the way she liked it, did Joel let himself look at her. When she turned back, her eyes closed as she breathed in the steam from the coffee before taking a sip, her body instantly relaxing as her eyes reopened, he finally realized what he recognized in her eyes.

The light of dawn caressed her face as she stood there silently, the tension in her shoulders releasing, the goosebumps in her arms disappearing as she sipped at her coffee, and he knew what it was that had brought her here. Joel knew because he had experienced it himself, voices and images haunting his mind for decades, even though he couldn’t remember them when he woke up.

His dreams had gotten better over recent months, but he still had them from time to time. He hadn’t lied to Ellie when he had loosely admitted that she was the one who had healed him, but the subconscious was a more tricky thing. Healing was not linear, and dreams were cruel, bringing forth the worst memories at times you needed them least.

The woman he barely knew, the one who stood across from him now and drank his coffee, was seeking solace from the torment of her sleeping mind. It made sense now; the tension, the shivering, the need for a sense of normalcy that had driven her to even his doorstep in the light of a new day.

That familiar look in her eye; fear, he now recognized it for what it was. He didn’t think he had ever seen her show fear before, except for that moment at the ski lodge. She always seemed to be so collected, so in control of herself. Her confidence seemed easy, like it just came to her naturally. But now he saw that maybe it was an appearance that was harder to keep up than he had realized.

Her eyes were still as sharp as ever as they met his gaze, and Joel straightened, resisting the urge to look away. He realized he had been caught staring, had been caught analyzing her, but to glance away now felt like he was admitting to picking her apart.

That had not been his intention, and he realized then that he was just realizing who she was more, the very reason he had avoided her for a week.

As if she could sense what he was thinking about, she lowered her mug from her lips to speak.

“You not interested in fucking anymore, Miller?”

Joel scoffed, looking away from her now as he shook his head. He wanted to come up with some witty remark, but for once, he didn’t know what to say.

“You’re not denying it,” she said softly in an almost sing-song voice, and now Joel’s gaze was tinted with annoyance as it flashed back to her.

“I’m not agreeing with it, either,” he finally replied, and she raised an eyebrow at his stiff tone.

“And yet you haven’t come around,” she said slowly, taking a step closer to him, and he tensed.

“You didn’t come here to fuck,” he said quietly, and she nodded in agreement even as she took another step closer.

“But isn't that the path we always seem to take?” she asked quietly, and Joel fell silent at that.

He didn’t make a move to stop her as she leisurely made her way up to him. His hand tightened on his mug’s handle when she reached him, stopping inches away from him as she raised her mug back up to take another sip of her coffee. Her eyes were deceivingly innocent as she watched his jaw tick, but he knew better as his muscles tensed in anticipation just from her being this close.

Joel breathed in slowly before letting out a quiet exhale through his nose, flexing his hand against his mug as he watched her carefully.

“Is this what you want?” he asked quietly, his eyes flashing back and forth between hers, and she paused.

She looked back down into her mug for a moment, at the last few sips of coffee that remained at the bottom, before looking back up at him. No affirmation left her lips, but he saw the answer in her eyes, the answer that told him she would rather fuck and forget than talk about her feelings, even as she opened her mouth to repeat the question back to him.

“Is this what you want?” she asked quietly, her own grip tight on her mug, and Joel exhaled sharply, trying to reign himself in.

They watched each other, neither making the first move, not daring to cross that line that continued to blur in the sand between them every time they came back to each other. And although every muscle in Joel’s body screamed at him to give in, to grab her and pull her to him, to satisfy that need that had been aching from a week away from her, something in the back of his mind told him to stop. Told him no.

Joel shook his head, frowning as words he didn’t realize he was thinking left his mouth.

“Is this what you need? ”

A short, quiet laugh left her lips as she leaned away from him, and Joel knew he had fucked up.

“Did you become an expert when I wasn’t looking?” she asked quietly, her tone deceivingly soft as she took a step away from him. “Or were you always one? Dr. Joel fucking Miller before the world ended?”

Joel’s frown deepened, shaking his head as she turned and paced away from him.

“Not by a longshot,” he finally muttered, and she laughed again, louder this time, but no less humorless than before.

“Then what the fuck, Joel?” she snapped, whirling around on him, her bright eyes now blazing with an anger he wasn’t certain was really directed towards him, or if he was just the nearest available target. “What happened to your third fucking rule?”

“We’re not fucking right now,” he pointed out simply, and he could nearly see her blood boil as she began to seethe.

“Fuck you,” she spat, her familiar venom returning in a way that was cruel, merciless, but Joel didn’t flinch. He could take it. Probably better directed towards him than anybody she cared about. “You’re not—”

She turned as she paced further away from him, shaking her head, and for a moment he was certain she was going to storm out, before she spun back around and pointed a finger at him.

“You’re not supposed to care.” Her eyes were narrowed, her tone accusatory as Joel stared back at her blankly. “That’s why I came here in the first place. You’re not supposed to ask me questions.”

She set her mug down on one of the counters, pressing her palms flat against the countertop as she took a deep breath.

“You’re not supposed to care,” she repeated in a quieter voice to herself, and Joel shifted.

“Tommy cares,” Joel said, his voice betraying no emotion. He sounded almost empty, even as he watched her closely when she spun back around to face him at his next question. “Does he know?”

“Know what?” she ground the words out between clenched teeth as she glared at him, and Joel gestured vaguely in the air.

“About whatever brought you here.”

She laughed again, the sound shifting from humorless to borderline hysterical. Joel began to wonder if he had ventured down the wrong path; if he only was poking a bear that was about to maul him, their weird, tumultuous relationship disappearing in an instant before his eyes.

But then she looked up at him, that anger in her eyes wavering, and Joel felt that same ache in his chest from earlier as he saw the fear bleeding through again; bleeding, bleeding so much that he wondered if it had ever stopped, if her wounds had ever healed.

“He does,” she said, her voice sounding strong even as it cracked on the second word.

Joel’s brows furrowed, his stance shifting even as he kept himself from walking towards her, watching as she distracted herself from looking at him by picking her mug back up off the counter.

“Then why didn’t you go to him?” The question was one of genuine confusion, and he had to fight to keep himself standing where he was even as he watched her begin to slowly crumple inwards.

“He doesn’t need to worry,” she murmurs, leaning forward as her knees begin to shake. “He doesn’t—”

Her head shook, clutching her mug tighter even as she slumped heavily against the counter, sliding to the ground in the same moment Joel’s resolve broke and he stepped forward.

Coming to a stop in front of her, he hesitated, not wanting to cross the few boundaries that were left between them, even as her knees came up to her chest. She cradled the warm cup of coffee to her chest, her breaths unsteady as Joel’s hands flexed, restless from feeling so useless in that moment because he didn’t know how to help her. He didn’t know why he wanted to help her.

But then he remembered how she had lit the candle at Tommy’s shrine. How she had taken a moment to remember Sarah, even though she had never known his daughter, or even knew that Sarah was his daughter. He remembered the understanding in her eyes, the drawing on her fireplace mantle, the question about Dina that she had avoided, and he knew why.

After a moment where only her shaky breaths filled the air of the kitchen, Joel turned, walking into the adjoined dining room. He stopped at his drink cart in the corner, grabbing a bottle of whiskey before returning to her. Carefully crouching in front of her and trying to make no sudden movements to spook her, he slowly reached forward to gently tug her hand holding the mug away from her chest, pouring a fair amount of whiskey into her leftover coffee.

Laughter broke through her parted lips, the sound less harsh, less anguished than before, and Joel’s eyes flickered up to hers to see the sharp color of them was disbelieving at his actions.

“Just to take the edge off,” he murmured as he stood, grabbing his own mug to pour some whiskey into his own coffee. “Don’t get used to it.”

She chuckled hoarsely, taking a long sip of the drink before sighing, her head resting back against the cabinets. Her eyes drifted shut, her knees not clutched so closely to her chest now, even as her mug still rested there.

Joel hesitated for a moment, not knowing what to do with himself even as his steps slowly brought him closer to her. Before he could think twice about it, he sank to the ground across from her, resting his back against the kitchen island as his crossed legs stretched out beside her.

They sipped what was now probably more whiskey than coffee in silence, and Joel didn’t say anything more as he watched her nerves begin to settle. He didn’t expect her to say anything, figuring that she would be out the door when she finished her drink. And at this point, maybe after she left, he would never see her again.

He nearly jumped from surprise when he heard her speak so quietly that he could have missed it if the room wasn’t dead silent except for the sounds of their breathing.

“Have you ever lost…” she trailed off, and Joel looked up to see her head turned to the side, her gaze far off as she stared into space. For a moment he was certain she had forgotten she had even been speaking, or maybe she wasn’t talking to him at all, before she quietly finished, “...everything?”

Joel looked away, brows furrowing as her words made him swallow thickly. He cursed himself in the back of his mind, realizing that this is why he kept the distance between them. Why he avoided her, why he desperately kept that third rule. Too many similarities.

Still, he found himself unable to help answering her just as quietly, “...Yes.”

She hummed, her gaze still far away, focused on some point past him even as he looked back at her.

“Figured,” she muttered, finally looking back at him with a dead-eyed stare that shook Joel to his core because, fuck, he had seen those eyes in his own reflection for twenty years. “Tommy said we had a lot in common. Guess he was right.”

Joel huffed, tapping his thumb against his mug as he took a slow sip of the drink. Eventually he muttered, “Don’t go telling him that.”

She laughed again, sounding more genuinely amused this time, and Joel hid a trace of a smile behind his raised mug until he could wipe it off his face.

“Oh, never,” she drawled, sending him a smirk as he lowered his cup from his mouth.

This time he couldn’t stop the corners of his lips twitching up into a small, matching smirk, and hers grew as they looked at each other before she glanced away.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured after a longer moment of silence that felt less like barbed wire wrapped around them that cut into them both. The atmosphere between them now was looser, more…accepting, as they sat across from each other and drank in silence.

Joel looked at her in genuine confusion at the apology, and apparently she saw the question in his eyes as she clarified, “For the shit I said earlier. I…”

She sighed, shrugging as she looked away from him.

“I can be a nasty bitch sometimes,” she finally muttered, and he actually let out a quiet laugh at that, one that drew her attention back to him as he stared down into his mug.

“You can be cruel,” he assented slowly, shrugging one of his shoulders as he slowly looked back up at her. “But so can I.”

She laughed softly, and he distracted himself from looking at her by swirling around the last dregs of coffee in the bottom of his mug. When she spoke again, he finally looked back up at her to see her face full of hesitation, which was an unusual sight for her.

“I also probably shouldn’t have said that stuff about,” she gestured vaguely in the air before finishing noncommittally, “uh, y’know.”

Joel stared at her blankly, because he didn’t know, and she sighed.

“Esther,” she murmured, shifting uncomfortably, and Joel blinked in surprise. Where the fuck had that come from? “I’m sure she’s nice. Really. And, uh—”

She cleared her throat, glancing around at anything in the kitchen except for him as she seemed to struggle to find the words to continue whatever she was trying to say.

“If you want to, y’know…” she trailed off, her head tilted from side to side, brows furrowing as she stared up at the ceiling, “...pursue her, or whatever—we don’t have to do this anymore.”

Her eyes darted back down to meet his, her walls still up, but he caught a glimpse of something, something that made Joel’s heart lurch uncomfortably in his chest as he cleared his throat.

Glancing back down into his mug, he tilted it to watch the whiskey-tinged coffee continue to swirl around the bottom of it.

Esther was nice. She was funny. He had genuinely enjoyed her company. Tommy was right, it would be a good match. And if Esther was asking about him, maybe he should go back to her. Maybe…he could be happy.

And yet…

Joel looked back up, meeting the eyes of the woman he couldn’t seem to get off his mind, and his throat felt tight as he swallowed thickly.

“Maybe you were right,” he muttered, and her brows furrowed as her eyes darted across his face that he was keeping carefully blank. Joel shrugged, forcing himself to appear as nonchalant as always even as the words slipped past his lips, “Maybe nice isn’t my type.”

Her eyes flew to his own, their gazes trapped in each other as the words hung heavy in the air. There was surprise bleeding through her guarded features, surprise that matched his own as he watched her watch him, and after a moment that felt far too long, her gaze quickly averted as she cleared her throat.

“Yeah, well,” she shifted, stretching her legs out so they laid next to his, her head falling back against the cabinets. “I could’ve told you that.”

Joel watched her look back at him, a small, satisfied smirk on her lips as she sent him a wink, and a chuckle rumbled deep in his chest as he shook his head and glanced away.

Still, he couldn’t stop himself from nudging his knee against hers. It reminded him of the accidental touch at dinner, and her confusion then. But this time he had meant it, and he didn’t pull away. Part of him expected her to, and he wasn’t offended when she did pull her knee back, but then surprise shook him as she gently bumped her knee back against his.

They stayed sitting there for god knows how long, their knees resting against each other, drinking the rest of their whiskey-coffee until nothing was left. Even then, they sat for a while longer, until the light of dawn began to shift into that of early morning, and she pushed herself up with a quiet groan.

“Thanks,” she muttered, glancing down at Joel almost sheepishly, and he paused from where he had been shifting to stand as well. “I needed that.”

After a moment of confusion of his own unsure reaction at her uncertainty, he looked away with a shrug.

“Didn’t break our rules, did we?” He muttered as he pushed himself up, and she laughed quietly from where she was setting her empty mug into his sink.

Technically, they didn’t.

But deep down, they both knew that another wall had started to crumble down between them again.

Joel could feel her watching him as he set his own mug into the sink next to hers. When he didn’t glance back, she sighed, pushing herself away from the sink, but not before gently nudging the mug he had set down.

“You got some boring ass mugs,” she playfully chastised, and some part of Joel relaxed when he heard the familiar biting snark re-enter her voice.

“And your engravings are so much better?” he found himself replying, still not glancing back at her even as he heard her laugh.

“They are, actually,” she murmured as her footsteps echoed through the kitchen. “You should get yourself one.”

She had moved towards his back door in the washroom when he finally looked back, and he met her gaze as she gestured towards it.

“I’ll take the long way back,” she murmured, grabbing the handle with one hand as the other raised in a lazy two-finger salute. “‘Till next time, cowboy.”

There was no way she could have heard the surprised huff of laughter that left him at the unexpected nickname as the door swung shut behind her, but Joel swore he saw a hint of a smile on her face through his kitchen window before she disappeared from view.

[droolywhirlpool]

ill probably improve on this as a pinned later but um. hi. i adore hypnosis/mind control stuff and then also like a hundred other things. ill probably just be reposting stuff and occasionally throwing in a fun post myself maybe my only real limits (see: dont bring anywhere near me) are underage and urethral stuff. anything else has a solid shot of being awesome to me i have an ao3 too if youre into that https://archiveofourown.org/users/DroolyWhirlpool/profile

[katnissdoesnotfollowback]

kdnfb's Ten Years of Fanfiction Mania

Featuring: Unmasked

Summary: Written under an Anonymous pseudonym ~M~ to fill the following prompt ~ Historical Katniss and Peeta hate each other. They attend a masquerade ball and for some reason end up kissing each other. Sparks fly everywhere. Katniss tries to find the man behind the mask but Peeta knows it was Katniss though he doesnt say anything. They end up bethrothed even if they 'despise' each other. How they fall in love is up to u and how katniss figured out it was peeta is up to u

Rating: E for explicit sexual content, explicit language, implied/referenced rape/nonconsensual (not everlark), implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced suicide, implied/referenced miscarriage, discussions of illness, war, and injury in a historical setting, ptsd, minor character death. They worst of these tags happens offscreen and is merely discussed and dealt with rather than shown here.

A/N: ~Unmasked~ is my longest fic in terms of word count (around 234k), although Outside Chance and Spellbound are not too far behind and are both incomplete. Unmasked started as something meant to be fun and cathartic, then turned into a ridiculously long and self indulgent fic that I still, to this day, have no idea if the anonymous person who submitted the prompt to @everlarkficexchange even read, let alone whether or not they liked it. But I love what I produced for this fic.

Why write it anonymously and only reveal myself later? A couple reasons. 1) Historical is not my wheel house. At least not writing it. I am a shameless consumer of historical romances. I did some research for this fic but not nearly the level I would've liked to have done. Eventually, I said screw it, it's about the vibes not the accuracy. 2) I had a pile of unfinished wips when I started this, to include Outside Chance and Spellbound (both of which are still unfinished hmmmmm) and I really didn't want a lot of questions about when I was going to get back to those while I was working on this because 3) I'd just gone through a small slice of writerly hell to the point that I seriously considered deleting my entire tumblr and all of my fanfic. Details are not important right now, the result is. That's probably the closest I've ever come to calling myself done with fandom.

Then this prompt posted to EFE and wouldn't leave me alone. Eventually, I decided that if I was going to write it, I wanted to write it with as little pressure as possible. So I chose to write and post it as ~M~ until it was finished. Plus, I thought it might make it fun for people other than me if there was a bit of mystery behind it. And I don't regret doing that.

Writing behind a mask allowed me to be as long winded and self-indulgent as I wanted to without worrying about how tight the storyline was or how accurate the historical details were, or wondering if I'd be walking into my tumblr and a barrage of the kind of messages I'd come to dread receiving. The only thing I worried about, really was if the amount and kind of smut I included gave me away prematurely lmao.

While this was my first real foray into the realm of historical fics, I am hoping it's not the last. I've got too many ideas and half started pieces to back out of it now. But those, like this one, will probably remain untethered to a specific real place, and a specific time, mainly because I just don't have that kind of time for research if I'm not getting paid to do it lol. They will be works of love if not works of accuracy.

Unmasked on AO3

[sunshinestardrop]

Fates Worse Then...

Heres the finished Hazbin Hotel Fic, I got a little lazy towards the end but I also have some extra bits Im working on in Alastor's POV. Hopefully it's not too terrible.

Ill prolly post it on my AO3 account later (when I can actually think of a good summary) but for now here it is on Tumblr!!

Pairing: Reader X Alastor

Summary(?): your life with Alastor told in parts, from childhood till death and then some

You had been the first to know there was something wrong with him.

Alastor had barely been a teen when you had stumbled upon him elbows deep in the bog near your homes. Being friends since you both were young, it was like you had a sixth sense for him. Always aware of his coming and going even when you couldn’t see him. Maybe it was the beginning of a new- still young- feeling deep within your heart that made you aware. Or maybe it was a more primal feeling within your mind, the same awareness that a prey animal had when a predator was nearby.

If it was, though, you never once heeded it. Instead searching him out on your own accord. The bog had been a place of solace for the both of you. A hidden away spot that others refused to stay near- especially during the hotter months- not wanting to deal with mosquitoes. You two had never been ones to socialize, so it became a common ground for both of you to play apart in silence. Over time you would find yourselves gravitating towards each other. Side to side, back-to-back, and eventually shoulder to shoulder. A place to lean on each other without judgment. 

It was probably for the best, then, that no one had come that night when you followed the trail of vivisected frogs down to where Alastor stood. He had already pulled another one out of the bog with a scalpel that could only have been stolen from class that morning. He had locked eyes with you for a moment, but all you could see was the way the knife pressed against the withering frog’s belly as he sliced.

-

With time, it would become a blurry memory that you would only think about dozens of years down, leaving you wondering if you could have done something different. But that wouldn’t have been until much, much later.

You and Alastor aged.

It always seemed like Alastor grew just right- never once having to deal with gangling limbs and uncomfortable feelings that other kids did. Words came easy to him, and he could charm anyone that he wanted to. In comparison, you found yourself unable to keep up. Despite your best attempts to connect with your fellow teens, no one ever wanted to stay for too long. You always laughed a little too loud or talked a little too long. The other girls your age found you odd, and the boys held no interest in you.

Maybe you should have cared a little more, but you quite liked the peace that came with it.

Still, Alastor allowed you a place at his side. You two talked- of course he loved to do that- but never once did either of you put a label to what you were. He had used the word friend or various words similar to it, but never once said more than that.  

Alastor had never spoken about his father to you, but you had always known when something was wrong. There were bruises in places you only saw when he had rolled up his pants so as not to dirty them with bog water. A bright purple splotch just under his collar, and- rarely- he would sport a shiner to class. Casually talking his way through any of his classmates that cared to ask. You knew they would never get an answer from him anyway.

You were sure you wouldn’t either because Alastor had always been one mystery after another. And you- who had spent your whole childhood lingering in his shadow- knew that it would be near impossible to tear them down. No matter how badly you wanted to. So instead, you stayed until late at night with him in the bog, sometimes until the sun came up. You would keep a fresh meal for him and his mother when it was needed.

You would keep your windows unlocked at night, just in case.

Alastor, for all his oddities, had the gall to lecture you about that one, “You never know what dangers could climb through,” he would say, as he did just that.

-

No one had brought up marriage until, one day, they did.

And then they never stopped.

You had been aware of the expectation, but once it was thrust upon you had no desire to be part of it. Marriage was a foreign concept to you, and sure, maybe you did like the idea, but you didn’t like anyone enough to want to tolerate them your whole life. You had seen the worst of marriage. Both from your own, indifferent, parents and from Alastor’s suffering. You never wanted to fall into that trap. So, you believed that you would die as you lived- alone.

But Alastor always had a way of throwing a wrench into your plans.

“Us?” you asked, balking over his offer.

It had been a quiet night, not a Peeper to be heard as you two sat on a blanket near the bog. You had brought a picnic basket full of treats that day, and Alastor, ever the gentlemen, had not come empty handed. His mother’s jambalaya- still warm- in some Tupperware. A long time ago you would have found the idea of eating with so many bugs around to be unappetizing, but you tolerated it with Alastor there fearing this could be his only meal for the day.

Eventually, you grew used to it.

“Well, of course,” he chirped, “It only seems logical!”

And it did, in a way, you had spent so long complaining about everyone’s comments about your non-marital status that it had almost consumed your whole life. Alastor, as well, had been fending off the advances of many women for longer than you could remember. Along with that he seemed to snag a job on a local radio show and was climbing into popularity fast.

In the end, if either of you wanted others off your backs, this seemed like the most rational step.

“Sure,” you said, offering him your hand, “I’ll marry you, my dear friend.”

-

The wedding was as quick as your disappearance.

Forms were filled out, a ceremony for only you two and a notary was found, and you both spirited away into the night. You both had quietly found a small home tucked away from the rest of the world. Close enough to his work, but far enough from the rest of the world. Peace had given you a new lease on life. With no one to hover over your shoulder- to judge all your oddities- you became more expressive. The you that only existed within the confines of that old bog was now free to spread itself further and further out in your home. Personality scattered about that merged with Alastor's.

Lingering reminders threatened to bring up a past long since buried in your mind. A bloody knife forgotten about somewhere he thought you wouldn’t see. Late night hours spent at work, and him coming home smelling of rust and sweat. The door to the basement always locked, never questioned.

You wondered if he had become sloppy over time, that maybe it was too much for him to handle. Still you kept your mouth closed, you prepared the meat he gave you.

In the end, it didn’t matter, Alastor had given you all you ever wanted and more- you were happy to spend the rest of your life in silence if it meant his happiness.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

-

A cry.

Late into the night, you had been tossing and turned for most of it and had just barely gotten to sleep when the sound jolted you awake. You had shot up from your single bed and scrambled for the bat you kept under it. Carefully you crept down the long hallway, past Alastor's room and towards the only place you knew the increasingly louder cries could be heard.

The basement, Alastor's basement.

With shaky hands you reached out to the jiggling handle. Cold that ran through your body that made it tense. A mockery of rigor mortis, but you were living, breathing. For as long as you kept up the illusion of a happy-ignorant- life you would surely stay that way?

Wouldn’t you?

Surely, Alastor cared enough about his oldest friend to forgive them? To keep them away from the edge of his knife? Sometimes you wondered if you really were as important to him as he was to you, but you dared not to think over it for too long. Least you come to a conclusion you knew your heart could not take.

Your hand hovered over the knob. Thinking.

In the end, though, the choice had always been out of your control.

The basement door flung open, and your eyes widened in terror at the possibility of your husband standing on the other end. Face to face with your own stupid curiosity. Would he be upset? Would he be enraged? You had never seen him angry, but surely this would be the final straw.

But it wasn't.

“…he…hel…”

A man, not too much older than you, the smell of rust.

“Pl…please…help….”

You could have helped him, you should have. You never knew when Alastor would change his mind about you, or even grow bored. But that would mean all of this for naught. That would mean never seeing your loving, doting husband again. That would mean you, alone again. Another unwanted person lost in a sea of uncaring eyes.

You reared back.

And swung.

-

You awoke the next morning in your bed, no memory aside from the loud crack of a broken skull and a body tumbling down into the abyss of Alastor's basement. You curled into yourself, silence lingering as you replayed the scattered bits of what you wished was a nightmare in your mind.

You don’t remember much of that day, only brief moments of Alastor saying his goodbyes as he went off to work, and then him coming home hours later to your prone form, the same position he had left you.

When you awoke from your trance Alastor's bed was next to yours. A threat and a promise all at once. No longer could you sneak out in the middle of the night to search. No longer safe in your own home—but it was never truly yours, was it? Tucked deep into trees. A place where no one would look for you, no one would find you.

-

How odd to learn, after years of marriage, that you were unquestionably in love with Alastor.

There was something wrong with you, that much you knew. But, now faced with that monster of a man and still loving him, you knew there was something terribly wrong with you.

Fate had twisted you into something far less good then you had hoped you would be, but the love bursting into your heart still brought you comfort when doubt would crawl its way into your mind.

You decided, if he saw it fit, you would allow his knife to be the only one to take you away.

-

Three days.

You had spent three days looking for him. In the cold winter you walked from his job and back, the bars he frequented, and even dug through the snowy path to your home with your bare hands looking for the man you loved only to be given frostbitten fingers for your troubles.

It was like the world had swallowed him whole. Someone that you had once believed to be above it, now just another man lost to the unforgiving universe. All that was left was you and your little cabin- too big for one. There had been a light- in the way- at the end of the tunnel. It came in the form of two men pounding at your door hours after you had passed out form exhaustion. A flashlight beaming through your windows.

They had found him- or more accurate, his body- cold in the woods, bullet through his head.

And who could there be to suspect other than his oddball wife. You tried to defend your innocence. How dare they accuse you of hurting the man you loved! But they barged into your home without care. They tore through all your little memories like they were nothing. The couch you and Alastor picked out; shredded. The pictures on the wall; shattered. The lock to the basement; broken.

And what they found down there was enough for them.

A story for a different time, you would say. Vivisected frogs. Longer, paler. You think they had names, didn’t they? At one point surely. Now all but a body. Sectioned off in ways that told you the cuts of meat. In all your numbness all you could think of was the ways they cooked. When to go against the grain and when to go with it. Prep, marinate, cook. He never once mentioned what kind it was, and you never asked but both knew.

And in all that, the only worried in your mind was of Alastor's memory. Of the legacy he would leave behind.

You loved him.

You still love him.

And so, you would be the one to make this sacrifice.

-

“And that’s why I’m here!”

Drink in hand (Fingertips discolored, a reminder of your final days.) you smiled brightly at the young women enraptured in your story. Despite her title as Princess of Hell, you had found the girl to be a real sweetie. Charlie- the sweetie- had been gripping onto her girlfriends arm the entire time you told her about your life before death. She seemed to have a love for the dramatics, and you sure had a flair for it. All those years no longer suffocated by the expectations the 1900s had of you had allowed you to open up a bit more. Even in hell you still found yourself able to enjoy life any way you could.

Of course, most of that meant you stayed far away from other people- not wanted to socialize as much as others did- but eventually you found yourself drawn to this Hazbin Hotel. A place for sinners to have another chance in heaven. While you didn’t quite care for heaven, there was a chance your love had made it to those golden gates. Though, you were not quite sure how he would have talked his way into it, you were sure only he could.

“Oh! My!” Charlie chirped as Vaggie dabbed some tears away from her eyes, “That’s—That’s so--!”

“Fucked up,” Angle Dust piped in from behind you, holding his own drink.

“-Adorable!!”

You reared your head back and laughed, as always too loud but you didn’t care, “No no! He’s right!” You said, “It was very… Unconventional! But I quite enjoyed my life with him! Loved the fool to death too!”

Husk, the bartender, rolled his eyes. You had spent so long avoiding any sort of social interaction that you had almost forgotten what it was like to be around people that actually… enjoyed your company. People that, despite their prickly personas, seemed to quite enjoy your endless chatter and loud laughter.

A place to call your own, a home.

Still, it wasn’t just quiet right yet. A hole in your heart that you sometimes worried would never be filled. But, in time, you were sure it would fix itself. Or, if you were lucky, he would come back to fill it once again.

[vee-beeee]

Snow Day

HELLO

Im back with more, also im working on getting an AO3 account so ill be posting a lot here

This is another fluffy one, then its back to goofy crime scenarios

Premise: It's a snow day, you go sleding, and you win a very intense snowball fight. (feat. hank and sumo)

Conner and Nines x reader

Warnings: fluff, like so much fluff, snowball fights and maybe one or two swear words. You never know with hank

2k words baby

edit: i wanted to get this out sooner but my POWER WENT OUT. Also I honestly don't know how to feel about this but I worked hard so here it issss hope it's not to cringeee

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You woke up to your alarm blaring through a sleepy room. You noticed it, started to stir, and then instantly fell asleep again. Totally on accident! And usually someone would wake you up before you fell asleep. Strange.

Later, you opened your eyes again slowly, feeling yourself sprawled out on your bed. You felt the hard pillow you were on moving, like it was talking or something. Blinking and looking up, you see a pair of honey brown eyes and a smile that could rival the sun looking back.

Oh. Your pillow was Conner.

You smiled back, and then in point 2 seconds realized how horrible you probably looked. You instantly started wiping your face, realizing you had totally drooled on him a little.

You heard a gentle voice, filled with delight, calling your name. You looked back at Conner and he asked you why you were rubbing your face so hard.

"I probably look horrible Conner that's why" you laughed a little while you said it, averting your gaze to anywhere but him. But a loving hand came to redirect your face to look at him again.

"I think you look adorable when you sleep, especially when you use me as a pillow. Problem solved." He did his little lopsided smile, LED a calm blue, and you instantly melted. What did you do to deserve him and Nines.

Wait where was Nines?

You guessed you accidently asked that out loud because you got a response. You were still super sleepy.

"He's making breakfast. We may have had a slight kerfuffle on who gets to snuggle with you for the morning. But he's better at cooking anyway." You guys shared another smile and you scooted up on his body to press a kiss to his cheek. His LED flashed amber and he grinned blissfully at you. You really got to admire his sleepy form now, his brown hair was messed up and he was only wearing a white shirt and black sweatpants. You approve this fit. You guys were so busy staring at each other like love sick teenagers you didn't here someone walk in the room and grab your feet. You yelped as you were dragged off of Conner while he fake reached for you. You fell off the bed on a pile of blankets and looked up to see a similar handsome face smirking at you.

"When your done gawking at each other, I made you special pancakes."

You instantly shot up and fell a little at your speed. A hand reached out to stabilize you by grabbing your wait and you blushed, quietly asking if it was okay to hug him and he nodded softening up a little. You hugged him and kissed his chest, quickly grabbing a blanket off the floor and wrapping it around yourself, before hurrying excitedly out of your guys' shared room. You made it halfway down the hallway before remembering a VERY important aspect of your life.

"WORK" was all you managed to yell out before running to the kitchen to look at the clock hung on the wall. It read 10:34 and you almost fainted. You were supposed to be in the station at 7:00 sharp.

You were still staring at the clock when your boys walked in, looking at you in amusement.

"We decided to surprise you and we all have the day off." Nines simply stated, arms crossing over his chest to gaze at you.

"Its a perfect day for it too, look outside" was what Conner said before walking to wrap his arms around your blanketed body. You turned to look over your kitchen island, to your ceiling to floor windows in your apartment.

It was snowing. Hard.

You laughed with amazement, it looked beautiful. Like how winters looked in your childhood memories. You felt Conner's arms release you, and you gravitated towards the window when you heard a throat clearing. You whipped around to Nines who was looking at you with amusement and handing you a plate of the most delicious looking pancakes known to man. You quickly took it and gawked at the pancakes, they looked and smelled amazing. Thanking him like 30 times while he chuckled, you sat down at the kitchen island facing the windows so you could watch the snow come down. You had your blanket draped over you while you ate, and that made everything extra cozy. You moaned on the first bite, Nines was genuinely a really good cook. Besides being programmed to know a few basic meals, he also explored this hobby after full deviancy. He really enjoyed it as an activity for himself.

While you were eating, Conner came to sit next to you and slid a mug of Hot Coco over to you. It even had SPRINKLES on it. Were you dreaming still?

He gave you another signature sun boy smile when you looked at him with the biggest, heartfelt gaze you could muster. He and Nines just talked to each other while you ate. You always felt a little awkward eating around them because they couldn't. But they said they just enjoyed watching you, Nines specifically appreciated being able to have you taste test what he made.

You overheard them discussing what to do that day, and you quickly swallowed another bite and piped up

"It's snowing, we could go sledding in the park! Or make snowman, or snowball fight" you started rattling off ideas and the androids turn to watch how excited you looked when talking about the activities. That basically settled what you all were doing that day.

You spent an hour getting ready with the boys, both of them making sure you were wrapped up tight. They also had turned their internal body temperature up, so when you held hands theirs would be warm. It would also help so their internal systems would not freeze, but it would have to be super cold for that to happen. They still dressed in jackets a beanies, to match you.

After Nines had teased you for walking like a penguin with how many jackets and snow pants Conner had fastened you up with, you guys were ready to go. As you were waddling through the door, you realized embarrassingly late that you didn't have a sled. You expressed this concern to the boys and Conner quickly answered

"We can always go to the store to get one, and when I had done an internet search on snowman making I learned that a carrot is needed to complete the look. We can get more decorations for them also."

You gave him a big dopey grin, loving the thought that Conner had literally done research on how to make snowmen. Soon you were out the door and into Conner's car.

He had an awesome sleek black one, that you named the Bat Mobile. It was full of cool gadgets and was super safe (he picked it out because of its specifically because of that). You were just happy that you got to play your music.

You got in the passenger seat, having yelled out "shot gun" upon seeing the car parked in the apartments lower level garage. Nines grumbled but followed the rules and sat in the back like a good sport. You sent him an apologetic glance after sitting in your seat, but he returned it with a glare so you stuck your tongue out at him in retaliation. He then proceeded to roll his eyes half heartedly and chuckle.

You turned back around and put on your favorite song. Conner set the car to auto drive to the nearest winter store. He gently leaned back in his seat and moved his head slightly to watch you hum along to the song and move your shoulders in tune with the music. You didn't see it, to focused on the window and snowy world outside, but Nines saw. He smirked and started a secret conversation with him, LED blinking

"You're grinning like and idiot right now." Conner turned around to frown at him.

"You would be to, she looks so adorable dancing to her music. I do have to say, her music taste is more delightful than Hanks". Nines rolled his eyes and looked over to see you putting your hands in the air for a mock imitation of singing. He chuckled and stared at you a bit before basically hearing Conner smiling smugly at him.

"See?" He raised his eyebrows in a questioning glance.

"I understand now" Nines admitted, leaning back in his seat. He realized he had moved forward a bit to look at you. A slight smile on his face, he crossed his arms. Conner looked back to the road ahead of him and realized they were close.

You guys pulled in just as your song finished. You had really gotten into the song for a second, you probably looked silly. You noticed the seat next to you was empty and then remembered, Conner always rushed out the door so he could hold yours open.

Like a GENTLEMAN.

You giggled when he opened the door and you got out with a little bow and thanked him. He blushed blue as his LED stuttered amber and you kissed his cheek, making everything worse for his poor systems. He rushed to say something, but you were already on your way to the store with Nines at your side. He locked up the car, smile on his face and hurried after you guys.

After securing the sled and some snowman decorations, you all got back in the car. You volunteered to be in the back since Nines had been so nice to let you in the front last time. He said that it wasn't necessary, but you were insistent. So he relented.

The store wasn't far from the park, and you all got out of the car once again. As you got out, you basically took 3 steps before falling backwards into the snow. You started making a snow angel when Conner and Nines, holding your supplies, looked down on you from above with amusement on their features.

You chuckled and Conner held out a hand to help got you up, and you graciously took it. You looked out at the park, filled with suprisingly few people and whispered under your breath

"Let the games beign"

(a little later)

"Conner I cant do it! He's too fast!"

"Yes you can! Just hide behind that tree on your way to the flag and he should miss you."

A faint voice across the field yelled out

"I can hear you guys. I was made with advanced hearing."

Conner and you shared an eye roll, and then he kissed your temple good luck.

Currently, you were in a fierce capture the flag meets snowball fight battle against Nines. You and Conner teamed up because Nines was basically a 5 man team. He told you he would try his best to go easy on you, but you had told him not to. You remembered that time fondly. You had been so confident.

"Y/N he's coming out of his fort! Go Go!"

You let out a battle cry and ran across the wooded part of the park and heard Nines foot steps thundering behind you. You felt something whizz past your face, not hitting you but sending a threatening point. You wheezed a laugh out and ducked behind a tree. You could hear Nines slow and walk towards the tree you were hiding behind. He was just teasing you now. This was the feared deviant hunter, one of the most advanced androids, a more advanced model than Conner himself. But....

He had fallen into your trap. Because waiting around another tree was none other than Hank himself.

He came over to the park on his lunch break and brought Sumo, and he was happy that it had snowed so much so he wanted to enjoy it. It had been a tough day of teaching a new recruit, so when Conner said you guys were at the park having a snowball fight he was so there. Hank didn't want to miss the opportunity to pummel Nines in the face with a snowball.

Just when Nines started creeping around and grabbed your arm, you screamed

"HANK NOW" Nines jumped around, trying to evade this new attack, but it was to late. He got smacked in the face by 3 snowballs. 1 from Hank, who was currently laughing his head off, and 2 from Conner who had also snuck up behind Nines while you were hiding.

Nines groaned in frustration and you bounced out of his grip to run over and capture the flag from his fort. You bolted over to Hank and Conner, shooting your arms up into the air in triumph, holding the prized flag. Conner stood and watched you while grinning and Hank shot middle fingers to the sky, completing his task of hitting Nines in the face. A totally Hank thing.

Nines came and patted you on the back, and you gave him a quick peck on the cheek for being a good sport. He blushed a teeny, tiny amount and looked away with his LED blinking amber and brows furrowed.

Hank had to go back to work, but he left Sumo with you guys. Your boys decided they wanted to go sledding, so you found a great hill in the park.

"Okay so tuck your legs in, and keep them in the vehicle at all times." you were currently instructing Nines how to sit in the sled, you were in the front and he was behind you. Conner stood with Sumo, waiting his turn. Nines wrapped his arms and legs around you, with a surprising amount of protectiveness and strength, and you shivered when he breathed down your neck. He chuckled and saw the opportunity to catch you by surprise. He unwrapped his arms from around you and used them to suddenly push the sled down the hill.

You screamed in shock and clawed at the arms that had re-wrapped around you. He "offed" out in surprise as you guys hit some rocks hidden in the snow. You shrieked out in excitement as you spun the rest of the way down the hill and sled to a stop. You heard laughing and barking from far away while Nines wrapped his arms around you again and kissed you hair. You sunk into his strong front and sighed.

Next was Conner's turn. And he was ready.

You got in the same position you were in with Nines and snuggled in. Conner waited until you were ready to push you guys off, a curtesy a CERTAIN SOMEONE had not shown. As you were speeding down the hill, some barking could be heard behind you. You shifted to turn in Conner's grip, which caused him to turn also, and saw Sumo was chasing the sled. You and Conner laughed in delight, watching the dog bark furiously and get closer to the sled. You both were so busy looking at Sumo that you didn't see where you were going. You realized way to late, that you guys were heading

RIGHT for a tree.

"TREEE" you yelled and Conner quickly jumped into action to untuck his legs and hit the breaks. You skid to a stop just as the nose of your sled kissed the oak. You heard cackling from up the hill and felt something wet on your cheek. Sumo was licking your face. Conner chuckled and pet the dog, asking if you were okay. You leaned into him and delivered a thumbs up into his face. Which made him laugh harder.

The last thing to do was make snowmen. But what Nines and Conner didn't know, was you were making snow androids.

You were making them.

You guys went you separate ways so you all could surprise each other with your creations. You found a secluded spot in the woods and quickly got to work.

After a couple minutes, you were getting tired from rolling the snow. But you needed to push on. The Snowdroids needed to be perfect.

Finally, after 20 minutes, they were complete. Conner's was slightly shorter, having buttons and a carrot nose with a blue jellybeans LED. ( You wanted a snack earlier and decided to use every material on hand for making snowmen)

Nines was taller, he had 2 sets of buttons and a regular carrot nose. But you had added furrowed branch brows on him. Then you added the blue jellybeans final touch.

You were extremely proud of yourself. Your snowdroids looked awesome. You were patting yourself on the back for your work when 2 sets footprints crunching the snow graced your ears.

You turned and saw Nines and Conner approaching with sumo, and staring at your snowdroids.

"Y/n.." Conner started, walking to his and admiring it.

"I do not look this angry all the time" Was Nines response, but he was smirking looking at his. You and Conner turned at the same time to say a quick "yes you do" and he huffed.

"Dear this is a perfect, accurate representation of my likeness" Conner took your gloved hand in his and kissed your head. You felt yourself go flush and Nines came to do the same. They then took mental pictures, while you took an actual pictures, and you 3 (and sumo) started off to see Conner and Nines creation.

On the way they revealed that they had teamed up to create you. You expressed how cute that was and finally caught a glimpse of it.

It looked exactly like you, it was adorable. Stick hair, buttons, extra details, with a carrot noise.

You laughed in amazement "You guys this looks so good!" You immediately started taking pictures and doing poses with it while Nines and Conner shared a chuckle.

Eventually you started to get really cold, and it was late, so Conner and Nines took you to your guys' shared home. Not before making a pitstop to drop Sumo of to Hank.

Your home looked so cozy, so much in fact, that you didn't even bother taking off your gear and threw yourself, face first, on the ground next to a heater. You heard 2 muffled voices talking and felt your boots being taken of by gentle hands. You rolled over to look at Conner and smiled at him. He lazily returned it and unzipped your jacket while Nines came into your vision holding one of the comfiest looking blankets ever, You got out of your wet clothes and were left in your underwear, so Conner gave you some clothes. A mix of his and Nines clothes actually. You quickly put on Conner's sweatpants, and Nines sweater. You three all got on the couch and the boys turned their body heat up. The surrounded you and wrapped you up snuggly in their arms.

You fell asleep hearing them talking, the sound of the dishwasher going, a heaters fan whirring, and watching snow come down outside.

It was an awesome snow day.

And down in the darkness of night were three snowman. One looked like it had been completely picked up and moved so it could be with the other three, and they were all holding hands.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Okay so I failed at making it short.

SORRY for plot holes or spelling errors.

THANKS FOR READING

edit edit: DUDE I COMPLETLY FORGOT ABOUT THE FLAG IN THE CAPTURE THE FLAG PART i cannot

[animaniacs-groove]

Introduction

((Helloooo Tumblr! This is @yakkolicious, but from this point forward, I'll refer to myself as the admin. Everything I say will be in white text with double parentheses. This is the ask blog for the Animaniacs Groove AU, my older Animaniacs AU. Here, you can ask questions to older versions of Yakko, Wakko, and Dot.))

About the AU

((This AU takes place in 2024, or whatever year it is in the present. However, the Warners will not age in real time. The Warners are two years older than they are in canon, so Yakko is 16, Wakko is 13, and Dot is 11, though I do have some fanfictions where they're only a year older. Yakko started a rock band with two of my OCs, Cleff and Winona. Yakko and Wakko also both have partners who are OCs. Here are some pictures to give you a bit more info on these versions of the Warners.))

((I'll also add my OCs to this later, since they're pretty essential to this AU.))

Canon

((What's canon and what is not canon to this AU? The events of the 1993 series all happened and were televised, but it wasn't a scripted show. The Warners genuinely got into those situations and they just got on TV somehow. These Warners hold no ill will towards anyone who works for Warner Bros. aside from Thaddeus Plotz, and the reasons they hate Plotz are unrelated to the show itself. Wakko's Wish did not happen and neither did the 2020 reboot. Norita does not exist, and Plotz is still the CEO of Warner Bros. with no plans of retirement. Hello Nurse, however, has taken a job with another company (not Doctors Without Borders) and the Warners haven't seen her in a while. Chicken Boo also did not try to kill everyone and is actually a friend of the Warners (though you won't see him around much). If a question based on reboot knowledge is asked to these Warners, they'll probably be confused, if I respond to the question at all.))

((This blog is not the only place you can find the Groove AU. There are also fanfictions on AO3 where you can read more about the things that go on in the Warners' lives. The series can be found here. If requested, I will also post the existing shorter fics to @yakkolicious-writing if you would prefer to read those on Tumblr. I can post the longer multichapters too, but the only real benefit of that is that I can give some more specific info.))

((In addition, you may have seen a character by the name of Hailyn Warner on this blog. She is not my OC, but rather she's the original character of my close friend @silly-lil-lee. Hailyn and her twin brother Rylan do have Groove AU forms where they are 10 years old, and they sometimes do appear on this blog. They are canon to the blog, but they will not appear in any fanfictions since they aren't my characters. They have a blog of their own, so if they catch your eye and you have a question for them, you can ask them here.))

Rules

Keep things SFW. The Warners are all still minors.

Please be nice. Don't send an ask to complain about my headcanons and do NOT harass askers, including anons.

No magic anons. All magic anon asks will be deleted.

((With that, feel free to send Yakko, Wakko, and Dot some questions!))

[the-french-belphegor]

Making my way (makinmawaayy) through my @critter-genfic-events bingo card, and this one's filling the "fights" slot! Or rather, "post-fight", which they told me works as well. Also it's set way before the start of the stream, when they're all more acquaintances and travelling companions than the friends and family we see later. They're already buds, though, for the most part.

Posting it on AO3 ASAP Now on AO3! Hope Tumblr doesn't hide the post from the tags! 🤞

(oh yeah, side note: I do know that concentration-based spells get dropped when you either don’t roll high enough to maintain it or when you take too much damage – like both invisibility spells do in DnD. But I liked the idea of being so concussed you don’t remember how to drop a spell :3)

—

Scrambled

Scanlan is pretty sure someone’s calling his name in the distance with a certain amount of worry. It’s okay, he thinks but doesn’t say. He’s gonna get back up any time now. He’s fine.

(Scanlan is more than fine, Scanlan is a godsdamn snack, thank you very much.)

In fact, he might even go as far as to let the word drag, let some notes slide a little: fiiiine. Four ‘i’s should about do it.

(Heh, four ‘i’s. Four eyes. That’s Percy. Where’s Percy?)

So, to recap, Scanlan is fine as hell, and he’s okay because he’s always okay, even with a headache so bad he’s pretty sure his brain is leaking out of his ears. Won’t check, though, that might be gross and his stomach isn’t doing too well either at the moment. Barfing while lying on your back? Yeah, no, bad idea. Of all the ways to die, drowning in his own puke is probably around number… sixty-eight.

Sixty-nine would be, of course, a particularly ill-advised tumble with someone with an ungodly number of teeth and a taste for blood, preferably that of a gnome with more curiosity than sense. As always with sex stuff with consenting adults, though, Scanlan isn’t willing to completely dismiss the idea.

Might be fun to try someday, who knows.

When he’s less tired.

Why’s everything swimming?

Actually asking out loud is out of the question, since for some reason his voice can’t even make it out of his throat, let alone his mouth –

(oh fuck no, if I can’t sing I’m toast, if I can’t play I’m dead, if I can’t talk we’re done)

– so at the price of an effort so bad he almost upchucks everything since the invention of breakfast Scanlan pivots his head juuuust a little to the left.

And sees nothing.

Well, no, not exactly. He sees yellowing grass, some dirt, a bit of sky. But nothing where his shoulder should be, or the rest of him.

…Oh yeah. He made himself invisible a while back. Somewhere between Tiberius’ Fireball, Vex’s arrows, and Percy’s pepperbox and its more-or-less controlled explosions. (Or maybe Percy went before him. Right before the world got very loud, very fast, and then very quiet. Somehow there’s a connection between this and that.) Dropping the invisibility looks like a really good idea, if only Scanlan could remember how. As things stand, he can barely remember to breathe. Oh, and also that the warm stickiness soaking up the back of his head and seeping into his collar is Not A Good Thing – not that there’s a lot he can do about that.

Things are rather quiet now. He must’ve missed the end of the fight.

Seriously, though, where’s Percy? Scanlan can’t hear the usual blasts and somewhere in the shattered mess that is his brain there’s a nagging inkling that it’s a bad sign. Or maybe there’s something else poking at the edges of his mind, he doesn’t know. He’s not exactly up to turning stuff over in his head at the moment. Turning his head was hard enough.

He’s just gonna… chill there for a while. Rest his eyes a little bit.

Which is why he doesn’t spot Vex running over until she drops to a crouch next to him and squashes his hand with her knee for five seconds.

Vex’ahlia is sharp eyes, sharp aim, sharp words, sharp everything. Her knees are no exception. Ow.

“Shit shit shit, fucking shitballs,” Scanlan hears her mutter under her breath as her hands find his head with uncanny precision considering she can’t see him. Her ‘t’s are beautifully defined, her vowels clear and precise. It’s a pity she sings so rarely; most performers would kill to have her diction.

“PIKE!” she yells over her shoulder. “OVER HERE!”

Pike, echoes the part of Scanlan’s mind that’s still functional. It would have been a small, pitiful yearning sound if he’d been able to speak. Thank goodness the word doesn’t pass his lips as is. It’s frankly a little scary just how the thought of her – the first in a while that doesn’t feel fractured in some way – quietens the part of him that’s not watching the proceedings with a detached interest. Pike is fun to flirt with and try to charm; she’s beautiful and radiant and strong, anyone with an appreciation for the female form can see that, so it’s not so surprising that Scanlan always feels drawn to her like a sunflower to sunshine. It’s so easy to let himself get starry-eyed over her, even if she’s so completely out of his league it bypasses sad and goes straight into funny. Scanlan probably is in love with her, a little bit, like he’s a little bit in love with everyone. Just… sometimes… sometimes when he calls her the love of his life he’s not sure he’s joking.

The nausea and the waves of blinding pain relent a little.

Pike?

No, Scanlan corrects himself, Vex, who when he manages to focus for more than a second finds his gaze and holds it. Unerringly.

Which must mean… the hour is up. The spell must be wearing off.

Huh.

“There you are,” says Vex, residual magic still shimmering in her fingers after her low-level Cure Wounds. She must really be tapped out.

There is blood in her hair and one of her feathers is bent at the stem, but the most telling cue that the fight went wrong is the brittle quality of her smile. She’s good at putting up a front, almost as good as Scanlan; insight isn’t Scanlan’s forte, let alone when his head feels like it’s just been cracked open like an egg, but sometimes seeing Vex’ahlia slice her way through life like a knife, just as sharp and just as shiny, is like staring into a warped mirror.

She’s good.

He’s better.

(Usually.)

“How’d you find me?” he croaks.

Vex draws back the hand she was using to prop herself with a couple of inches from his head. Her palm is coated with red.

“Head wounds, darling. They tend to bleed rather a lot.” She cocks her head to the side. “How did you even end up all the way here in the first place?”

Scanlan’s memories still feel like a scattered jigsaw, but at least now the pieces are right side up. What he puts together isn’t very glorious. Getting punted into a rock by a giant who only heard you and who was supposed to go down easily isn’t anything to brag about. At least he can always quip about it.

“Well,” he wheezes out with a grin that might work better without the blood in his teeth, “I got got.”

Then he remembers why the giant whirled round blindly and whacked him with his club. He’d been out of any useful magic, trying to sneak up on it with a fucking sword, of all things, because the big dumb fucknut had somehow gotten hold of—

“Shit, Percy – where’s Percy?”

Vex’s own smile gets wry and just a little shaky at the corner.

“He got got,” she says. There’s a story there, but at least Vex doesn’t look like it ended in tragedy. Instinctively Scanlan relaxes into his headache. “Don’t worry, though. Pike reached him in time and Grog and Keyleth got the giant.”

Oh. Good. Percival Freakystein von Mussels Colossal de Rolo III is one scary motherfucker with his pepperbox and his glasses and his devastating one-liners, but he’s still squishy as hell. Plus, well, he’s so young – Scanlan is fairly sure he’s twice, maybe three times older. The kid must be, what, mid-twenties tops? That’s way too young to die, especially having experienced so little of what the world has to offer. Scanlan would bet anything the stuck-up nerd has never taken anyone to bed, for the gods’ sake.

They’re all assholes, in the SHITs, sort of (except Pike, of course, and probably Keyleth too) but Scanlan likes them. If the universe suddenly decides that an asshole has to get killed today, he’d rather it be him rather than one of the others.

Still, nobody needs to know that.

“Worry, me? Please, I never worry.”

“I know you don’t, darling. I’m just updating you on what you missed while you were having a kip.”

Vex’s tone is even, her words light, and yet when Scanlan meets her gaze it’s like crossing blades. Somehow it also feels like grasping hands in reassurance and honestly it unnerves him a little. He prefers to know where they stand, and usually he does: he’ll downplay close calls and tell lewd jokes to alleviate the tension, while she’ll be sarcastic and magnificent and not call him out on his lies on the occasion she sees through them. But sometimes she reminds him that both twins are like blades, swift and sharp in more than one way, and in some of them she’s the sharpest. Gods, she’s terrifying.

He’s saved from having to retort something by the metallic rustle of ring mail over heavy cotton as Pike rushes up to him. Perspiration left traces in the dirt smudged across her face and her dark hair is mussed, whole locks coming out of her braided bun. She smells like sweat and leather and a little like wild strawberries, and she’s the most beautiful thing Scanlan’s ever seen.

Pike doesn’t lose a second with platitudes; she just gives him a very professional once-over, almost clinical in its efficiency, then cups his face with her hands with a look of intense concentration, eyes closed. The healing spell she pours into him feels so potent it’s practically an out-of-body experience. For a couple of seconds all Scanlan feels is warmth, clean and bright and fierce, and when he opens eyes he doesn’t remember closing his ears are still ringing.

Although that might be the blood loss.

Which would also neatly explain how weak he still is, especially when Pike’s face goes soft.

“You okay?” she asks quietly.

There are so many answers he could give her.

I am now – with a wink and a nod.

I want to have your babies – with a theatrical gesture that will make her laugh.

I am if you are – with his heart in a smile. (NOPE.)

“I’m always okay,” Scanlan finally says with a grin, hoping for an echo.

Which he gets, so points to him for being awesome. Pike Trickfoot should always have a reason to smile.

Vex snorts and somehow still manages to make it sound classy as hell.

“Sure. Which is why the only reason I found you at all was the random pool of blood on the ground thirty feet from where we thought you were. You’re lucky I’m a good tracker.”

“Fair, fair,” he says with a careful nod. “Although that could’ve been from some forest critter that met a grisly end.”

“Please, this much blood, and this fresh? How dumb do you think I am?”

Scanlan sits up on his elbows and counts off on his fingers. “One, that’s gross – two, ‘dumb’ is the last of things that you are and you know it all too well – three, thank you for saving my life – four, that’s still so gross, oh my gods. What’d you do, sniff out my lifeblood?!”

“It was me or Trinket,” says Vex, looking way more smug than she has any right to. “It just so happens I beat him at the game of ‘spot the invisible gnome’. You know, before he dies on us.”

“Oh no. What a loss that would be. Such a young, useful bear, too.”

“How scrambled did your brains get? I meant you, you dick.”

Her peeved expression eases just as quickly as the smugness hardened into a glare, and she smiles at Pike before straightening up and striding off toward the others. Her perfect hips swing subtly as she walks, in an unassuming way Scanlan knows from experience requires a lot of work. He’d find her so hot if she wasn’t so scary.

(Well, he does find her extremely hot, if only because she could break him with either a gesture or a word, but despite popular belief Scanlan Shorthalt isn’t that reckless. Even he can weigh the pros and cons occasionally before deciding that diving in headfirst isn’t a good idea.)

There’s a snort on his right, and his whole world is Pike again.

“I really don’t get your little war on Trinket,” she says, but there’s a twinkle in her eyes.

“When he starts landing actual hits on whatever we’re fighting or even just holding his own more than two minutes, I might reconsider. Right now he’s just a glorified pack mule.”

“He’s plenty useful. He gives the best massages, for one thing. And he’s a good boy.”

I can be a good boy, Scanlan almost retorts, but refrains at the last minute. The lie is too big to work, even as a joke, and he doesn’t like the sliver of truth behind it, like the glint of a blade. So he settles for a fake disgruntled huff and a grin.

Nothing falls off as he picks himself up with Pike’s help, so that’s good news. He just has to suppress a shiver at the congealed blood, now gone cold, that makes the top of his shirt stick to his back. His ponytail is a mess, a clump of matted hair half glued to his neck. Ugh, he hates having to wash blood out of his hair.

His usual armour is back on, though. Pike doesn’t seem to notice the shiver; the look of slight worry she gives him has a general fight-almost-gone-very-bad flavour of ‘are you okay’ to it.

“I am glad you didn’t get scrambled,” she says in a rare mix of bluntness and thoughtfulness that’s uniquely Pike. “You know, for good. I mean, you looked pretty bad there for a moment.”

“Aw, Pikey-pants,” Scanlan says in a singsong voice, “don’t tell me you were worried.”

Pike gives a half shrug, which he feels because she’s thrown one of his arms over her shoulders and is supporting some of his weight.

“Oh well, you know,” she says in an offhand voice, a little high-pitched, “a little? You’re never silent this long, and then Grog and I couldn’t find you, and then Keyleth said she heard the giant hit something with his club, and then—”

“Well, you don’t need to worry about me, okay? Never worry about me.” He smiles, big and toothy, to counter the frown she gets sometimes when he says things like that. “I mean, there’s really no need. I’m awesome! I’m Burt Reynolds!”

This at least gets a smile with the hint of a smirk. Still sweet, though, because Pike could make (and has made) even the bluntest blow feel sweet.

“Esquire.”

Scanlan nods carefully, mock-serious. “Right, right, ‘Esquire’.”

“Shouldn’t forget that bit.”

“No, I should not.”

She smiles at him, sharp but warm, and there it is again – the sudden urge to say something stupid, make a joke, deflect, like raised hackles, because what if she gets the true measure of him? (‘And doesn’t like what she sees’ goes without saying. There’s a reason Scanlan spent the last couple of decades carefully building himself up.)

Being a charismatic bastard means sometimes you can afford to coast on charm alone. He grins and changes the subject, as swift and dextrous as a knife in Vax’s hand, and that’s it. Matters closed.

Honestly, he’d have to be a lot more scrambled than that for it not to work.

“No, Grog, there’s already a troll dick in the bag of holding, we’re not keeping a giant dick as well!”

…Plus there’s always the next distraction. That works, too.

—

(until it doesn’t, but he doesn’t know that yet!)

I started writing this on a whim and then couldn’t decide who I wanted to find Scanlan between Vex, Vax and Pike – so I decided to sort it out with a d20, set the DC at 20 (“hard”, because he’s invisible) and roll a perception check for each member of VM using their proficiencies at level 10 (the earliest character sheets of theirs Critrolestats have). Both Pike and Grog rolled a natural 1 :’( Keyleth and Percy got a 9, and even with +10 and +7 respectively for perception they failed the check; Vax got 26 (rolled a 16 with +10 perception) and then Vex got the same number but by rolling a nat 20! Plus her passive perception is 22, so that makes sense. And she was top of my list anyway, so ^^

(I spun the whump wheel a couple of times, thinking I’d get a good handful of prompts for some short snippets (like <1k words) and then happened on “concussion” and. Well. Someone clearly had a lot of thoughts about that one...)

[cherryluvrx3]

meat lovers amirite??

Dave Strider x Reader x Karkat Vantas

——————

A story where teen Dave, Karkat and friends work at a Pizza Hut. After Dave delivers to your place, you get a little crush and end up getting pizza more often just to see him and eventually end up falling for Karkat too.

----------------------------

The troll characters will be in here, if you want to view them as humans go ahead but I don’t think I’ll specify if they’re regular trolls or just humans here

Btw the readers friend group is just a mostly random mix of characters I like 😭 (Terezi, Roxy, Nepeta, Gamzee) and this'll probably have other ships ill tag later,, don't read if you get upset reading other ships you don't like (there won't be any proship ones)

Reader is mostly kept gender neutral but there might be some gender terms both feminine and masculine but can just be seen as jokey names. This fic is mostly silly n fun

(Also this is being cross posted from my ao3 account :p)

———————

chapters:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

[jellypear]

I think you're worth holding onto PT3

Ayo wassup @wolfythewitch, I return. I started this like a week ago and I've already got 8 pages on google docs, this is going really well for me.

Also! I posted this on AO3, and I'm going to update these around the same time so if you wanna stay up tp date and don't want to deal with the mess that is my tumblr go check it out there <3

--------------------------------

On the third day, the storm finally calms. 

The third day is also when Techno grows ill. 

There are consequences to bottling one's magic. And while these include more fantastical symptoms as the magic tries to escape, which can range anywhere from chilling the air around you, to summoning storms to setting off a magical inferno, though that’s in extreme cases, there are also the mundane symptoms. There’s the constant achiness, decreased stamina and a weaker constitution. 

(Phil has a plethora of recipes that can help. Not all of them are remedies as not all the symptoms can be fixed, but they sure do help.)

And despite Phil’s constant watch, the cocktail of bottled magic, storm drenched clothes and extensive journeying can only lead to one thing for Techno, and that’s sickness. 

Which leads Phil, ever the bleeding heart, to be seated here next to Techno’s bedside. 

He’s dutifully changing the damp cloth on Techno’s forehead to keep his fever down, making sure Techno keeps his fluid and blood sugar levels up no matter how much Techno doesn’t want to and keeping Tommy out of the room lest he also grow sick. Philza doesn’t want two sick kids in the cottage. 

Though keeping Tommy out of Techno’s room (which is totally not a spare storage room that Philza speed cleaned after realizing that he cannot keep his young guests in the living room) has never been easier. After all, with the storm gone the crows are back. And Tommy fucking loves the crows. 

(Philza later regrets the day he introduced Tommy to the crows. They get along like a house on fire. Phil fears that one day they will influence each other to start a house fire.)

But as much as Phil fears the consequences of this action, he needs Tommy safely out of the way so he can focus on Techno. And maybe it’s not wise to make a six year olds only guardian a murder of crows and give him free reign of a forest, but quite honestly it’s probably safer for him out there.

With the sickness Techno’s iron control over his magic, which Phil has witnessed many times in the past three days, grows dubious. He’s more prone to magical flare ups, ones larger than the sparks of the first night and the flames of the second, and it’s easier for Phil to be damage control with Tommy out of the house. 

Thus Phil stays by Techno’s side, keeping his fever down, his fluids up, cleaning up the frosts and the dews that appear and ushering away the sparks. 

(It reminds Phil of simpler, kinder times. And even though he longs for them, he feels as if beginning to understand why events occurred the way they did.) 

(Phil’s not a big believer in destiny, but he’s beginning to wonder.)

--------------------------------

Tommy Careful Danger Kraken Innit may be the biggest man there is, but he’s really fucking bored. 

Yeah Chat, the crows that Phil introduced him to, are really fucking cool.

(“There’s too many of them for them all to get an individual name so I call them Chat. They’ll look after you while I look after your brother”)

And being able to run around the forest is also really fucking cool, but he misses Techno. Yeah sure it’s only been like a few days since he got sick, but Tommy isn’t used to not having Techno constantly over his shoulder like a fucking shadow. 

The first few days were fun. No Techno telling him what to do and he was finally let outside? So fucking poggers. 

He spent the first little bit of it chattering to the crows as he explored the forest, and honestly it’s only been a couple days but Tommy already feels like he knows the whole thing like the back of his hand. 

He knows where to find the best berries, ones that aren’t poisonous but are very sweet and he knows where to find the clean streams and ponds where he can wash his hands of the berry juice. He knows where to find the hill with the best view and he’s found where there’s a small meadow, hidden between the trees that has the prettiest flowers and so many bees. 

He’s found all the best spots and climbed all the best trees and now he’s bored. 

Tommy’s tried exploring further into (or out of depending on your perspective) the forest, but everytime he passes a certain spot, one he can’t figure out, Chat begins squawking at him. And he means like, really losing their shit. 

So he can’t explore the forest further, he doesn’t want to explore the same areas alone again and he’s not allowed into Techno’s room.

…

But Philza’s in Techno’s room.

So Philza’s not in his room.

--------------------------------

Okay so as it turns out, Phil’s room is really boring. 

It’s just like. A bunch of books. His bed. A desk. Closet. 

Tommy's not great at reading, he’s better than to sleep on another big man’s bed, he already played with the hourglass on the desk for a bit and he can’t reach up high enough into the closet to get any of Phil’s clothes down. 

There’s a really old looking mirror on the wall though, that’s kinda cool. 

Clearly the answer here is to bring the chair over to the mirror. 

So that’s what he does.

He clambers on top of the chair and looks into the mirror. It’s got a bunch of drawings and crystals in it, but it’s cracked. 

“Well this is fuckin’ boring innit,” Tommy’s words lay still in the air for a moment.

Then the glass on the mirror riples. It’s as if someone dropped a pebble into a puddle and then put it in a mirror. 

For a moment the face of the mirror shines and its light is reflected onto Tommy. And then a face appears in the cracks. But it’s no longer Tommy’s face. It’s another boy, older than Techno but younger than Phil. He’s got dark curly hair and tired blue eyes, the same eyes that Phil has. He looks surprised.

“Oh, you’re not Phil”

--------------------------------

Orignal AU by Wolfy | AO3 | 1 | 2 | Part 3 | 4 |

[regulusttars]

Family is what you make it

I wrote a fanfic of Regulus having dysphoria because i was dysphoric and posted it on AO3 but i'll post it here too

TW: Mentions of Walburga and Orion's A+ parenting (child abuse)

Fuck fuck fuck. I look like shit. I look like a girl.

Slow tears fell from Regulus’ eyes as he stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. He and Sirius had run away to the Potter’s last year and were lovingly accepted into the home. Sirius had come out to Walburga and Orion who did not take kindly to having “mentally ill” transgender children. They had barely made it to the Potter’s before they passed out. 

Over the year,  Regulus and Sirius mended their relationship. Both very happy to know their sibling was going to be safe at home, Regulus drifted towards Fleamont both being on the quiet side, preferring to observe from a distance then being there head first and Sirius to Effie, loving the energy she brought to the home with her smile and cooking.

I need Monty or Remus or someone. Fuck. 

“Amor, you ok in there ?” 

Shit I forgot about James

“I’m fine, J”

“Ok, you ran out the bedroom”

“I’m sorry if I scared you but, um, could you get Remus for me please ? Tell him that it’s an emergency”

“Sure,  Reg, um I know it not the best time to say this but, I love you”

Regulus could hear the smile in James’ voice

“I love you too James, please go now”

Hearing his steps get farther away from the bathroom Regulus let out a heavy sigh, sniffling slightly, he looked into the mirror, only to immediately regret it and look away, trying to control his tears. 

After a minute or 2 a new voice called out from behind the door. 

“Reg ?” 

“Come in, Remus” 

“Hey. I brought your binder and one of James’ massive shirts”

“Thanks Remus, I just. I don’t even know how to describe it. Like, one minute James and I were cuddling, then he wrapped his arm around me and I guess my chest just decided to appear, and then- fuck” 

 Regulus swallowed a sob. 

James probably thinks that I hate him

“I’m sorry for stealing you from Sirius, you can go back now Remus. He’s probably confused”

“Are you sure Reg ? I mean I get it. Before top surgery I got dysphoric all the time. Shit Reg. Some time I still get dysphoric, I’m here for you if you need me” Remus softly smiled as Regulus nodded his head 

As he slipped out of the bathroom Remus poked his head back in “Oh and Sirius said that they wanted me to tell you that he loves you”

“Tell him I love them back”

“Will do.”  and with that Remus was gone.

Slipping onto the clothes Remus gave him, Regulus felt a sense of familiarity as the binder compressed his chest.

Allowing himself to breathe, (as much as the binder allowed him too)  Regulus washed his face and walked out of the bathroom and into the Monty’s lab, which was really just the basement that Monty used for potions

“Monty ? are you done here?”

“Over here kiddo !”

As Regulus’ eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of the basement he could make out ingredients. 

“What are you making ?”

“Pain and sleeping potions for Sirius once he gets his top surgery done soon. They are wonderfully excited about it” 

“They’ll be excited under their hormones are outta wack”

Monty let out a chuckle. “What are you down here for, anywho Regulus ? Not to say that you can’t just be down here, to be down here but you did call out for me while walking down.”

“I just wanted to sit with someone and didn’t want to steal Remus away from Sirius”

“Well you’ve come to the right place my boy, Sit, read, study, try to make a new potion, this is your space.” 

“Thank you, Monty.”

“You’re welcome Regulus”

~~~~~~~About 45 minutes later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Fleamont!!” Effie’s voice rang through the basement

“YES, LOVE ??”

“DONDE ESTA JAMES” 

“UMMMMM I DON’T KNOW BUT REGULUS IS WITH ME”

“ALRIGHT, BUT IT’S TIME FOR DINNER” 

“WE'RE COMING UPSTAIRS NOW LOVE”

With a gentle flick of his wand the ingredients went back into their respective places with the books stacked neatly in the corner of the room.

“Alrighty then. You coming Regulus ?”

“I'll be there in a little bit, Thanks for letting me hangout with you.”

“Anytime Kiddo.”

And with that the basement was empty of people, bar Regulus. 

Shit, I left James all alone, no explanation, nothing. He’s probably worried. Ahh I should apologize. I didn't mean to. It just happened. 

Breathing in Regulus began to climb up the stair only to be met with a face full of James Potter

“Shit!”

“JAMES” 

“SORRY MAMA, Hey Reg. Are you ok?” 

Instead of responding with words Regulus, buried his face in his boyfriend's chest breathing him in, slowly nodding. 

“I’m glad you’re ok” James' voice had dropped to a soft whisper. “I’m sorry by the way. You need me to stay-

“James, it’s ok. Things just happen. It’s ok.”

James audibly breathed out. “Merlin, I thought you hated me for a second” 

“I could never sunshine, I could never”  Regulus smiled softly, wrapping his arms around James

“I know, but I worry sometimes.” James softly pressed a kiss into Regulus’ hair 

“James,the day I hate you is the day the world ends, I love everything about you” he said with a smile “from your messy hair, to your stupid glasses, your somehow incredibly hot deep morning voice, I love you”  he pulled James into a tighter hug resting his head on his chest “I even love when you tease me for being short” he chuckled.

“I love you too, starshine. Even when you fight with Sirius over who's taller when you're both the same height, I love when you yell at me in French cause you forgot what language you’re speaking in. I love your stupid friends and your gray eyes, that you use to get me in trouble with your brother, the bastard doesn't know when to shut up” 

“James, not the time, not the point” he murmured, leaning back to look up at James.

“Whatever, I love you.”  

“STOP BEING SO FUCKING MUSHY” Sirius’ voice called from done the hall “YOU’RE MY BROTHERS, IT’S BASICLLY INCEST” 

“Toujours pur?” 

“James, shut the fuck up” pulling away from the hug, Regulus began walking toward the kitchen. 

“LANGUAGE THE THREE OFF YOU” 

“Sorry, Mum”

“Sorry Effie”

“I’ll probably cuss again, but sorry Effie.” 

“Come on Reg, let’s get to dinner”  

And with that Regulus kissed James one last time, pulling his hand walking to join his family at the dinner table. 

My AO3 is regulusttars

[hero-deserves-to-be-happy]

Under The Weather (A Hero-Centric Sick Fic)

When Hero has to cancel his visit home due to illness, Kel gets worried and calls in some reinforcements to take care of him. Kel knows there is nothing that upsets his brother more than being fussed over and worried about, but maybe he'll let himself be taken care of just this once...

Genre: Sick Fic, Slice of Life and Hurt/Comfort. Friendship and Kel & Hero's Brotherly Love. Post-Good Ending. Self-Indulgent. Hero Deserves To Be Happy.

Characters: Hero (POV Character), Kel (POV Character), and Zoey (OC). Sally and the parents make brief appearances. Mari and Sunny are mentioned.

Relationships: Hero and Kel's Brotherly Bond. Kel and Zoey (OC) Friendship. Hero and Zoey (OC) Friendship [Could be Hero/OC if you really wanted, but this story take place mid-extremely slow burn so they'd swear they're just friends here]. Past Hero/Mari is implied, referenced, and mentioned.

Word Count: 11,886

Rating: G

Warnings: Some hurt/comfort. Some mentions of grief. Mentioned flu and flu-like symptoms. Sick Character. Referenced Canonical Character Death. OMORI SPOILERS. There is a little angst, but it wraps up with brotherly love and Hero actually being happy and taken care of after the good ending (who knew we'd live to see the day...)

⛅This story is part of the "When Sun Shines Again" universe & includes specific references to "Am I Ready For Love? Or Maybe Just A Best Friend" but it should stand-alone and make sense without reading any of that. 

A/N: It's my birthday and this is my (Acacia's) self-indulgent present to myself. 😁Thank you for indulging me!

Link to work on AO3. Full text below the cut.

Thank you for reading! 🧡💙☂️

Kel glanced over at the clock, watching as the second hand barely ticked away. He generally wasn’t this distracted or antsy at basketball practice, even when his coach called an emergency practice after school on a Friday when everyone was naturally jittery with anticipation for the weekend. But he couldn’t seem to focus on anything today—found himself zoning out until something collided with the back of his head.

“Ouch!” he yelped, rubbing his hand across the spot the basketball had just bounced off of him. That was definitely going to leave a mark. Some of his teammates snickered while a few offered shrugs of apologies. His coach huffed, crossing his arms clearly unamused.

“What is going on with you today?”

“Sorry, coach,” he mumbled sheepishly—scratching the back of his neck. “My brother’s coming home from college for the weekend, so I guess I’ve been a little distracted.”

His coach frowned. “Well you can run out that distraction by running laps around this gym. 10 laps—go!”

Kel sighed, but he sprinted off for his laps. If he was being perfectly honest, he didn’t mind. If he was lucky, maybe running laps would help time pass faster. He’d try anything that would help time pass faster. Hero was coming home, and he couldn’t wait to see him.

When practice finally wrapped up, he practically sprinted out to his car and, though it likely would have worried his mother, he sped home at, at least, a solid 10 mph above the speed limit. He hoped he hadn’t missed Hero’s arrival—though he knew he had a class this morning and wouldn’t have been able to leave until later in the day, then he had what was probably a 3-hour drive taking traffic into account, so maybe time was on his side.

When he pulled onto his street, he was relieved to see that Hero’s car was not in the driveway, and as he ran through the doorway into the house, he called, “Have you heard from Hero at all?” Do you know what time he’s coming?”

With an affectionate chuckle, his mom looked up from the block structure she had been building with Sally. “Well, welcome home to you too, Kel. Did you have a good day at school? How was basketball practice?”

“It was fine,” he said with a shrug, trying to ignore that lump on the back of his head. “But have you—?”

“Wanna play ‘zoo,’ Kel?” Sally interrupted with a bright smile as she held up some of the colorful, plastic animals he and Hero had bought her for her birthday. “You can have any ammimals you want.” She stared up at him with wide, expectant eyes as she handed him an elephant. Kel smiled, patting his little sister on the head.

“Thanks, Sally. We’ll play in a minute, okay?” He paused, turning back to his mother. “Mom—”

“I haven’t heard from him since this morning. He was supposed to call before he left, but maybe he got busy or forgot,” she cut him off with a slight shake of her head. “I hope he’ll make it back in time for dinner.”

“I’ll call him,” exclaimed Kel reaching for the telephone receiver. As Kel began to dial the number he knew by heart, he stopped—wondering if it would be better to call Hero’s cell phone. They were all still adjusting to the fact that he had gotten one. It made their mother feel safer and more secure, knowing that Hero had a way to call for help in an emergency, but since he had limited, prepaid minutes, they all still usually communicated with him by calling the landline at the fraternity house where he lived. In this case, however, Kel was hoping that Hero was already on his way, in which case, his cell phone would be the best way to get ahold of him.

“What if he’s driving?” sighed Mom as Kel began to flip through the address book they kept near the phone. When he found the number, Kel shrugged.  

“Then he won’t answer, and I’ll just leave a message.”

“Tell him about my zoo,” giggled Sally, and Kel nodded. As he held the phone to his ear, the ringing of the telephone mingled with Sally’s best impression of a lion. A smile tugged at his mouth as he watched as his sister began to set her animal toys in the block zoo she had been building with their mother.

He was so distracted he almost didn’t hear the slow, heavy breath followed by a hoarse, groggy, “Hello?”

Kel’s brow furrowed. “Hero? Uh…it’s Kel…” He stumbled over his words, worried he had dialed the wrong number. The person on the other line barely sounded like his brother at all. There was more wheezy breathing as if Hero couldn’t catch his breath, followed by an audible gasp and a stumbling, almost panicky, “Kel? Oh my gosh—what time is it?”

“Um…around 6:00, I think.”

“I’m so sorry,” apologized Hero, sounding like himself again besides the hoarse breathiness of his voice. “I wasn’t feeling well so I lied down to take a nap before I left, and I must have completely lost track of time.” His voice cracked and hitched—raspy and wheezy before he finally burst into a fit of nasty, phlegmy coughing.

“You sound terrible. Are you sick?”

“He’s sick?” interjected their mother bustling around him in a fidgety panic. “What’s wrong? Did he see a doctor? Does he have a fever?”

“I don’t know, Mom,” huffed Kel, but he was promptly cut off by Hero.

“Mom’s there?” There was something concerned and guilty in his already weary voice. “Tell her not to worry. I’m fine. My friends have been passing this bug around. I’m the last one to catch it. I’ll probably be better in a couple days.”

Kel nodded before he realized his brother couldn’t see him; then, he turned to his mom giving her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “He says all his friends have had this bug. It only lasts a day or two. He’s gonna be fine.”

“Tell him to take medicine, get lots of rest, and drink plenty of water and to keep checking his temperature,” his mother began rambling. “If it reaches 103, he needs to call a doctor or go to urgent care.”

“Mom,” sighed Kel. “Hero’s gonna be a doctor. I’m sure he knows all that.”

“You can hand the phone off to Mom If you want. I’ll talk to her,” Hero weakly interjected before he started coughing again. “I’m really sorry I’ll have to postpone my visit, but I’m not well enough to drive and I wouldn’t want to get you sick.”

“It’s fine, okay? Don’t worry about it. Are you sure you’re alright? That’s a really nasty cough.” Kel bit his lip, trying not to sound nearly as concerned as he felt. His fingers trembled as they gripped onto the receiver. As he looked in his mother’s face, he knew she was worried too and likely for the same reason: Hero never got sick.

“I’m fine,” he insisted but his raspy voice and coughing fit seemed to imply otherwise. “Don’t worry about me. I’m probably just going to make some instant ramen and go to bed.”

“But you hate instant ramen…”

“He’s making instant ramen,” interjected their mother. “Tell him to try to eat something healthier—more hearty like soup.”

“Mom—” Kel began to protest before Hero cut him off with a weary sigh.

“I just didn’t have the energy to make anything else…” Hero’s voice trailed, and Kel swallowed hard.

“Is there someone there who can take care of you?” he asked, and Hero sighed again.

“I don’t want to bother anyone or get them sick. Besides they’re all heading out to this party tonight.” He paused, coughing again. “But it’s fine. I’m really okay, Kel, just a little under the weather.”

Kel sighed heavily. He wished he could believe him, but Hero had always had this way of deflecting and belittling his own problems because he didn’t want people to worry. This had gotten especially bad over the past couple of years. Ever since their fight, it seemed like Hero would never tell him that anything was wrong ever again. Kel’s chest ached. His brother could be dying right now, and he’d have no idea.

“Hero—” He stopped abruptly, unsure of what he even wanted to say. It would probably just be the wrong thing anyway, so it might be better if he just didn’t say anything at all.

“I’m okay, Kel,” Hero gently insisted again. “And I’m sorry…but we’ll see each other another time. Maybe next weekend or the weekend after? Whenever I’m not contagious anymore.”

Kel sighed, but he finally answered, “Yeah…You just take care, okay? Do you want me to put Mom on now?”

Hero hummed, and Kel handed the phone off to their mother who started blustering and prattling away about cold medicine, sponge baths, and electrolytes. Kel didn’t catch most of it, but he did clearly hear, “I wish you had someone up there to take care of you.” Kel let out a long, heavy sigh. He certainly felt the same way, but that definitely wasn’t going to happen. Hero hated asking for help more than he hated instant ramen.

“Is Hero gonna be, okay?” asked Sally, tugging on his arm. Kel gave her a reassuring smile.

“Yeah. He’s just a little sick right now, but he’ll be fine. Then he’ll come visit and see your zoo.” He took Sally’s hand and led her back to the blocks and toys. “Here, I’ll help you with it.”

Helping Sally with her zoo project did not distract Kel nearly as much as he hoped. He was constantly distracted by worries about Hero and how bad his health was—if he was really telling them the whole story. He didn’t usually get sick after all, and he sounded horrible. What if he had a flu or something and needed medical attention? He could at least use someone who could check in on him and make sure he was getting water and enough to eat that wasn’t instant ramen. But Kel wasn’t sure who that would even be. Unless…

Impulsively, Kel raced upstairs to his room to grab the notecard where he had written Hero’s friend Zoey’s phone number after she had offered to let him call her whenever he got stuck on his math homework. Kel had used to call Hero with all his homework trouble, but after Hero himself was stumped by a particularly difficult math problem, his brother had suggested they ask his friend who was an engineering major and, Hero insisted, a math genius. Best of all, she had just so happened to be hanging out with him when Kel had called. Zoey had quickly solved and walked him through the problem, then several others. Then she generously offered that he could call her with any other questions—which he had multiple times. Honestly, he’d probably be failing math right now if it wasn’t for her.

He talked to her all the time, sometimes it seemed, even more than Hero, though Kel often thought he probably got a more accurate account of how Hero was actually doing from her than if he had just asked his brother himself. He could only be told ‘I’m fine, just busy’ so many times before it started sounding automatic and rehearsed. Zoey at least told him the truth: he’s stressed about upcoming exams, busy cooking food for a party his fraternity was hosting, or groggy from staying up all night studying. Kel sighed. He understood if his brother wanted to keep a lot of his life private, but, he’d be lying if he said it didn’t hurt a little to be cut off from his reality by dismissive ‘I’m fine’s. He knew Hero didn’t want him to worry and was likely just trying to protect him from that, but still…he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was his own fault. Hero probably didn’t want to tell him he was stressed out, overwhelmed, or sick because he was worried Kel would just say the wrong thing, just like he had when Hero had gotten so depressed after Mari had died.

Neither of them ever wanted that to happen again so they just didn’t really say much of anything anymore—at least not much of anything that mattered. Sure, they still talked—so much and so often that Kel knew the phone number to Hero’s fraternity house by heart, but it barely scratched the surface, never touched anything deep or meaningful. In a way, it felt hollow, distant—like Hero was only showing him a hazy impression of his life, enough to reassure Kel he was doing okay but not enough that he could feel like he actually knew him anymore, at least not like he had when they were younger and Hero had told him everything. It was getting better—had been over the past two years since they had learned the truth, but…Kel knew things would never go back to the way they were. He should probably be used to that by now. His brother was a very private person, and he probably always would be.

And by the time Kel had dialed the number and listened to two rings of the telephone, he realized with a somewhat sheepish sigh that he probably should have been a little more respectful of that. His hands began to tremble as he clutched onto the receiver—genuinely starting to worry he was crossing a line. Zoey was one of Hero’s best friends, and Hero might be embarrassed to know his younger brother had been calling her to ask if she’d check up on him.

Before he could even begin to consider hanging up, however, someone answered the phone with a “Hello?”

“Hey, uh, this is Kel. Is Zoey there?”

The young woman on the other line laughed. “Scotty, how are you?”  she asked, and Kel’s mouth curved into a bright smile. He knew immediately it was her. She was the only person in the world who called him ‘Scotty.’ Zoey had explained to him once it had to do with his talent for fixing things, just like “Scotty the Miracle Man,” a reference to some old tv show Zoey said she had used to watch with her dad. It didn’t bother Kel that he didn’t get the reference. He was honestly just kind of excited to have a nickname. After all, he had never really had one besides ‘Kel’ before and that was just a shortened version of his name. He had always kind of wanted one, just like Hero, but he had never told anyone that before.

“I’m good,” he replied with a chuckle. “You?”

Zoey hummed. “I’m doing okay—been kind of busy. You stuck on your math homework again?”

“Well yeah,” Kel admitted with a shrug. “But that wasn’t why I was calling. Is this a bad time?”

“Nope. Most of my sorority sisters are headed out to this party, so that’s probably what you’re hearing in the background.”

Kel’s brow furrowed. He heard some background chatter and rustling noises, but it was all kind of faint—nothing he would have thought was worth mentioning if Zoey hadn’t brought it up herself. “You’re not going to the party?”

“I have a project due next week, and honestly, parties aren’t really my scene. Don’t tell your brother, but I really don’t think I’d have a good time without him there anyway. We’re usually the only sober ones, and drunk company’s really not all it’s cracked up to be,” she replied dryly, and Kel laughed but shrugged his shoulders.

“Have you talked to Hero at all?”

“Not since yesterday. Did he make it home okay?”

Kel sighed. “He’s not coming. He’s sick.” Kel paused—sighing again and trying not to sound too disappointed. “He called like 45 minutes ago—has this terrible cough. He says he caught some bug or something and isn’t well enough to drive.”

“I knew this would happen,” huffed Zoey though she sounded more guilty than upset. “We’ve all been passing this flu around, and Hero’s been trying to take care of everyone so, of course, he got sick himself.”

“A flu?” interrupted Kel. He shook his head. So Hero had been underexaggerating again…? He should’ve known.

“I’m sure he’s going to be okay,” Zoey reassured him. “He has a really strong immune system—barely ever gets sick. It’s one of the reasons he’s going to be a great doctor. Don’t worry. I had this flu too—got over it in a couple days.”

“He got it from you?” teased Kel, and Zoey laughed.

“Probably from Kyle. They are roommates. But we’ve all had it. Hero’s the last one.” Zoey paused, sighed. “We really didn’t think he was going to get sick.”

“Yeah he uh…usually doesn’t, but he sounded pretty miserable when I talked to him earlier today. Said the only thing he could eat was instant ramen.”

“He hates instant ramen,” Zoey interjected, and Kel shook his head with a sigh.

“I know.” He paused thoughtfully then tried to ask as nonchalantly as he could manage, “Hey…uh…do you think you could bring him over some food or something? Just so he wouldn’t have to keep eating instant ramen. I wouldn’t want you to get sick or anything, but since you already had it, maybe you could just drop it off and maybe check in to make sure he’s doing okay…?” His voice trailed, and he bit his lip as he waited for her answer.

“I’m not much of a cook, Scotty,” chuckled Zoey. “But I could stop by a restaurant or Other Mart to pick up a couple things and drop them off for him. You know it’s only going to make him feel guilty though. He’ll help anybody that needs him without batting an eye, but the minute you try to turn it around and return the favor, it’s suddenly a big deal.”

Shaking his head slightly, Kel sighed. “Yeah…that’s just Hero for you.”

When Zoey sighed herself, Kel imagined she was shaking her head with the same somewhat affectionate exasperation, but she hummed thoughtfully. “I’m sure he’s feeling pretty miserable right now, and not just because he’s sick. He’s been so excited to see you—talked about practically nothing else for the past couple weeks.”

“Really?” The question slipped out before Kel could stop it, and his face flushed. Luckily, she couldn’t see him.

“Yeah, of course,” Zoey chuckled like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I don’t know if I’ve ever known anyone who’s so excited to see his brother. I mean, I love my brother, but the way Hero talks about you—it’s like you’re the most important person in the whole world, his best friend.”

“I don’t think I’m his best friend anymore,” mumbled Kel without thinking.

“Hey…” Zoey’s tone of voice softened—something gentle and sympathetic in it. “If you’re talking about me or Kyle or Brandi, C.J., Lorraine, Tamra…yeah, we’re all Hero’s friends and we all care about him, but none of us are you. And we’re never going to be you, Scotty. You’ll always be number one.”

“I dunno,” sighed Kel. He was pretty sure he lost that spot when he was insensitive, said all the wrong things after Mari died—when he hurt his brother, broke him.

“I don’t really know if it’s my place to say but…” Zoey began tentatively, but she let out a conceding sigh. “You know the only time I ever really see Hero happy is when he talks about you—about how amazing you are and how proud he is. His face just lights up, and he smiles for real—it actually reaches his eyes.”

Kel’s face grew warm, but he stifled a chuckle. It was funny to hear her say that considering he would have said the exact same thing about her. They all would have. It was Sunny who had noticed it first, actually, on account of the fact he lived in the city and Hero often invited him to hang out with him and his friends. Kel would never forget how he had excitedly told him, Aubrey, and Basil all about what it had been like to see Hero smile again. They almost hadn’t believed him, but then Hero had come home on a break and told him about how he got caught in the rain with some friend of his, a spunky engineering major who thankfully had a red umbrella. In the middle of his story, Hero’s face had lit up and he had smiled just like Sunny had said, a real smile that actually reached his eyes. Kel’s chest ached just thinking about it—about how much he wished his brother would smile like that all time, about how much he wished he would be happy again.

Kel took a long, deep breath. Could it really be possible that Hero smiled like that when he talked about him too? He couldn’t really believe that. Not after everything that had happened.

“He really loves you, you know?” Zoey continued quietly, and Kel fidgeted. Could she read his mind or something? “If the situation was reversed and you were sick and he was hours away, he’d be calling your friends too—having Aubrey and Basil go check up on you and make sure you’re doing okay. He’d probably be calling your parents all the time for updates too. Everyone in Faraway Town would be keeping an eye on you for him.”

Something twisted in Kel’s chest, and his eyes fluttered closed as he took a deep breath. “Please don’t tell him I’m worried.” His voice hitched over his words—quiet, small, like he was that little boy cowering in the corner watching Hero break again.

“You can tell him yourself,” Zoey gently encouraged. “I’m sure he—”

“You know about our fight, right?” Kel interrupted without thinking. He swallowed hard—the only sound during the long, heavy pause which followed. It probably crossed a line to ask that. He didn’t even know if she knew, but Hero had told him he had told Zoey about Mari, had told her a lot of things that he didn’t think he’d ever tell anyone. It wouldn’t have surprised Kel if their fight was one of them.

“Yes,” Zoey finally admitted—quiet, matter-of-fact. “He told me.”

Kel huffed lightly, breathily almost a disbelieving laugh. “Then you know why I can’t just call him up and tell him I’m—” His voice hitched, and he stopped abruptly.  

“Kel—” she began to protest, but he cut her off.

“And you also know that it’s all my fault that we’re not—” He stopped abruptly—the words getting caught in the back of his throat. He shut his eyes tightly and swallowed hard.

“That’s not the story he told me.”

Something twisted in Kel’s chest. He couldn’t imagine what else his brother could have possibly said. Even if Hero had tried his best to protect him with his account and paint him in a better light so Zoey wouldn’t hate him, he couldn’t change the fact that it was his pushy and insensitive words that had broken him, right? He was the one who had made him feel guilty, made him feel like it was his fault he was so depressed, like he could just snap out of it somehow, like he wasn’t doing enough, and worst of all, like he was disrespecting Mari. He was the one who had said all the wrong things, who hadn’t been sensitive or kind enough like Hero himself would have been if the situation had been reversed. He was the one who said this wasn’t what Mari would have wanted, and he was the one who watched while those words broke his brother. He was the one who had broken him.

No version of the story Hero could have possibly told anyone could have changed that, but he supposed it was really none of his business.

“You know, Kel,” Zoey continued with a heavy sigh. “Sometimes we put up walls between ourselves and the people we love because we’re afraid of hurting them. It doesn’t mean we don’t love them—it just means we don’t know how.”

Kel’s chest ached, but he swallowed hard. “And you’re saying Hero’s like that?” He paused, and the words slipped out before he could stop them. “With you?”

“With everyone.” She hadn’t missed a beat. Kel supposed he admired that about her. She could be so honest but so kind too, and she knew Hero so well. Kel could tell that she cared about him and was a good friend. Both she and Hero vehemently insisted they were nothing more than that, and Kel believed them—which is why his question probably crossed a line, why Zoey felt compelled to add, “Not just me. You know that we’re not—”

“Yeah, sorry,” stumbled Kel interrupting as he shifted and fumbled around with the phone in his hands. “I didn’t mean anything by that. I just—”

“It’s okay,” she thankfully cut him off. “Just wanted to make sure you weren’t getting the wrong idea. We get teased enough as it is by our friends—I can tell it bothers him. He won’t say, but I know it’s a touchy subject…”

“Do you think he’ll ever…uh…you know…?” he stumbled over the question, feeling guilty for even asking though he was desperate to hear another opinion that wasn’t the dismal ones he, Aubrey, Basil, and Sunny could generally come up with. Given the way he had tripped over his words, he wasn’t sure she’d even understand what he was trying to say, but she sighed.

“Honestly…I don’t know.” She paused thoughtfully. “But I do know that he’s not ready right now.”

Kel’s brow furrowed. That wasn’t exactly the answer he was expecting. “He told you that?” he asked before he could stop himself.

There was a long pause before Zoey answered, “Yes.” Her voice was matter-of-fact, pragmatic, and unreadable, but she sighed heavily. “Scotty, if you want to talk to Hero I feel like you should. He’s your brother. You should be hearing all this stuff from him—not me. It’s really none of my business.”

“He won’t talk to me.” Kel’s face flushed. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Zoey sighed.

“Kel…”

“It’s fine. It’s just…the way it is, you know?” he shrugged, swallowing hard. “He wouldn’t even tell me how sick he was.”

“He didn’t want you to worry.”

Kel huffed. “Well, I did anyway.”

“I’ll go check on him, okay?” Her voice softened—kind and sympathetic, almost reassuring. “But he’s going to be fine. Don’t worry. Then, I’ll call you later and tell you all about how he’s feeling better already.” She paused chuckling. “Okay?”

Kel sighed, but he shrugged his shoulders conceding, “Okay.”

“Good. Now what’s that math problem you’re stuck on?”

Kel snorted a laugh in spite of himself. “You think we have time for that?”

“Unless you want me to tell your brother you called specifically to ask me to check up on him, then yeah—I’m gonna have to actually help you with your homework,” she quipped dryly. “I think there’s a special place in hell for the kind of person who’d lie to Hero.”

Reaching for his math textbook, Kel laughed. “Alright…Well in that case, it’s another one of those functions…”

*-*-*

Wearily rubbing his eyes, Hero groaned. He was so exhausted it took all of his strength just to roll over onto his side so he could reach his bottle of water. He knew it was important for him to stay hydrated, even without his mother reminding him, and was truthfully desperate for something to drink given how hoarse and sore his throat was after he had just woken up.

Coughing, he managed to take a few sips before he sunk back down into his bed. Sunny had once rated it a 9 out of 10, but now Hero would probably rate it an 11, the most comfortable bed on earth. He never wanted to leave it ever, ever again—but that was probably just the flu talking.

Hero couldn’t remember the last time he had had the flu. He rarely ever got sick. Contracting what he had originally thought was a cold was a surprise enough, but he had just chalked it up to being a little under the weather and tried to push through it—until he had crashed that afternoon after a coughing fit—chilled, aching, and too tired to even move. By the time he woke up to answer Kel’s call, he was honestly miserable—phlegmy, wheezy, shivering, and so feverish he could barely put a sentence together. Even now, his head throbbed, and his thoughts were cloudy and muddled. He felt disoriented and too exhausted to even think too hard.

Hero sighed. He should probably take his temperature again—make sure it wasn’t too dangerously high. It barely took any time at all for the thermometer to ding—flashing a whopping 102.2 degrees Fahrenheit. Hero took a long, deep breath, or at least as deep as he could manage given his nasty cough. A fever that high certainly explained why he felt so crummy. He reached for some tissues and blew his nose before he coughed again. It would probably be best if he just went back to sleep.

His eyelids grew heavier and heavier until they finally started drooping closed, but Hero was distracted by rustling noises he heard downstairs. His brow furrowed. He thought his entire fraternity was out at a party. Had someone come back early?

The sound of footsteps walking up the stairs echoed through the hallway, followed by a knock on the door to his room.

“Uh…Come in…?” Hero mumbled unsurely in a hoarse voice before he coughed again. He tilted his head at the door as it swung open, and Zoey walked in with two bags—one paper, one plastic.

“You look terrible,” she teased dryly, but her freckled nose wrinkled as she smiled at him brightly enough that it reached her green eyes.

“Zoey?” Hero stumbled slowly, breathily. He rubbed his head—unsure if he was seeing things. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard you were sick so I brought you some soup and a Hero sandwich but I put that in the refrigerator since I thought you probably weren’t up for solid food yet.” She reached into the paper bag and took out a plastic spoon and a to-go container of soup from his favorite soup and sandwich place in the city.

“Thank you…” Hero’s voice trailed as he struggled to catch his breath.

“It was nothing, especially compared to the homemade soup you made me when I was sick.” With a thoughtful hum, she ran her hand through her short, red hair and began fumbling around in the plastic bag. “I’ve also got you some sports drinks, water, cough drops, tissues, tea, and VapoRub.”

 “You really didn’t have to do that…” Hero insisted in a raspy whisper. “How much do I owe you?”

Zoey waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. It’s my co-op semester so I’m basically rolling in money.” She chuckled lightly. “Plus, I wanted to do this for you. What are friends for, right? And I mean, I’m the reason you got sick.”

Hero shook his head weakly as he took a long breath. “No, you’re not.”

“Right. Sorry. It was all of us,” Zoey corrected with a lopsided twitch of her mouth. “And your lack of boundaries.”

Hero chuckled lightly in spite of himself, but it quickly turned into coughing. As Zoey scrambled to get him some water, he managed to choke out, “Sorry…”

Zoey tilted her head handing him the water to drink. “For what?”

Hero shrugged, but he took a few sips. “I don’t want to get you sick.”

“I’ve already had it. I’ll be fine.” She sighed with a pointed tilt of her head. “You take this ‘hero’ stuff way too seriously, you know? It’s not gonna kill you to let someone take care of you every once and awhile.” She pushed his desk chair next to his bedside and took a seat. “Now you just sit back, relax, and take easy, okay? Mama’s here.”

“I thought I was ‘Mama’,” he teased—dry and breathy. He wouldn’t have had the energy to argue with Zoey on the best day but especially not when he was so rundown and miserably ill like this, so instead he chose to banter. Mama was the nickname his roommate and Zoey’s long-time best friend Kyle had given him back in their freshman year, after all, so it seemed appropriate.

A smile tugged at Hero’s chapped lips as he watched Zoey laugh. Something warm spread through his aching chest knowing he had made her smile.

“Hey, I was ‘Mama’ before you were,” she bantered back. “But don’t worry I won’t tell Kyle.” She twisted her mouth to the side, but her expression softened as she reached out to take his hand. Frowning, she shook her head. “Your hands are so clammy.”

“Sorry…” mumbled Hero as she pushed some sweaty hair out of his face—pressing her palm to his forehead.

“You’re burning up. You have a thermometer?”

Hero nodded—then weaky motioned to his bedside table where his thermometer was sitting amongst a bunch of tissues. “I just took it. It’s 102.2.”

Zoey’s brow furrowed. “When do we call a doctor?”

Hero shrugged. “Probably if it’s over 103…” His breathy voice trailed wearily. “But there’s things you can try to bring it down before then.”

“Like a cold sponge bath like in a movie?” asked Zoey, her mouth quirking to the side. Hero shook his head.

“You want it lukewarm—not cold. If it’s cold, the blood vessels will constrict, and the body will hold onto heat…” He sighed then coughed into his elbow. After he managed to catch his breath, he added, “But tepid water is good. You can take a wet rag and use it to sponge the back of the neck or the forehead—the arms and torso would help too.”

“You want me to go get one?”

Hero’s face flushed, finally realizing what he had said and that it had come out in a way he hadn’t intended. “No, uh… I meant ‘you’ in the impersonal sense. I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

Her mouth curved into a slight smile. “I’m happy to help.”

“I know,” he said, but he fidgeted, something almost bashful in his expression. “But I uh…I wouldn’t want you to have to see me…uh…”—his voice cracked and he mumbled—“shirtless.”

Zoey chuckled. “You’re adorable, you know that?” she teased. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. We’ve been to the beach how many times and you’re a lifeguard for goodness sakes. You can’t possibly be that self-conscious.”

“That’s different. That was the beach or the pool—this is…” He could feel his ears burning. “my room. We’re alone here, and—”

“And you’re sick. It’s all medical. Surely, I don’t need to explain that to you, future doctor.” She crossed her arms with a pointed look, before she clicked her tongue and bantered, “Yes, we all know you’re very attractive, Mr. Prince, but you kind of look like death warmed over right now. It’s nothing to get worked up over.”

Hero choked, then coughed repeatedly—phlegmy and guttural, definitely not attractive in the slightest. As he hacked and lurched forward, Zoey patted him on the back, firm but gentle before she rubbed her hand across his shoulders.

“Woah. Woah. Take it easy. I was just teasing you.” Her voice was soft and kind, and there was something so gentle in her eyes as she met his and apologized. “Sorry.”

Hero’s insides twisted. He could tell he had worried her, and he couldn’t stand it. He never wanted anyone to worry about him—especially not his friends.

“No. It’s okay,” he insisted when he finally caught his breath, but his words got jumbled and muddled in his foggy brain and scratchy throat. “I…I know you were... It’s just…that’s not what I meant. I was just…embarrassed. I mean you’ve already had to see me in my pajamas.” Hero stared down at his pajama shirt and pulled on the collar as his face burned and not just from the fever.

“Your grandpa pajamas?” Zoey teased dryly. His face flushed, but he nodded. Chuckling lightly, Zoey shook her head. “You do realize I’ve seen Kyle in his underwear more times than I’d care to admit, right? This is nothing. And besides, I’ve already seen them before.”

“You’ve”—Hero’s voice cracked—“seen my pajamas?”

“Well not in person, but Sunny drew me a picture of you in them.”

“Sunny drew you a picture of me in my pajamas?” Hero repeated incredulously in a disbelieving, hoarse voice.

Zoey shrugged but answered matter-of-factly. “He only draws you in your pajamas. He draws everybody in pajamas. You know, the last time I saw him he asked me about my pajamas so he could draw me in pajamas too.”

“Why—?” Hero’s voice hitched—cut off by an awkward laugh and wheezy coughing. “Why would he do that?”

“No idea. You tell me.” She paused, but Hero could only shrug his shoulders. Sunny was a talented artist, but Hero would be lying if he said he understood a lot of his abstract pieces or the reasoning behind them. Zoey’s guess as to why Sunny wanted to draw everyone in pajamas was as good as his, he supposed. “But I’m pretty sure he always draws you in these exact pajamas—long sleeves, button down shirt, stripes. I remember thinking ‘why does Sunny think Hero wears grandpa pajamas?’ but clearly it’s because you do.”

Hero chuckled lightly but tilted his head at her. “What’s wrong with my pajamas?”

“Nothing—if you’re over the age of 70,” bantered Zoey. “If you’re not, I don’t think anyone’s worn pajamas like these since the 1950s, but I guess you were always a Wally Cleaver type, huh?”

As his face burned, Hero sighed. “I don’t think I’m as charming as Wally Cleaver, and I’m definitely not as athletic as him. And he had all those girlfriends…”

“That’s a moot point,” Zoey interrupted, waving her hand at him. “Wally wanted all those girlfriends—you don’t. If you did, you absolutely could have them.”

“I’m sure that’s not—” Hero began as his blush deepened, but Zoey cut him off again.

“No, it is. Every girl in my sorority house would date you in a heartbeat,” she replied bluntly—pragmatic as if it was a well-known fact, but her mouth curved into a lopsided grin as she dryly teased. “You are Mr. Prince, after all.”

“Tamra has a boyfriend…” Hero protested—weak but somewhat playful.  

Zoey sighed, rolling her eyes. “Well okay…not Tamra then...”

“Or you,” he quietly added, but Zoey’s mouth twitched into a lopsided smile.

“I don’t know, Mr. Prince. If you were actually interested in me, I think I’d have to seriously consider it—especially now that I’ve seen you in your grandpa pajamas.” She beamed at him with a bright, teasing grin before she let out a short, playful whistle.

Hero blushed before he buried his burning face in his hands. “Zoey…”

Before either of them could say anything more, however, they were interrupted by a distant, shrill whistling sound.

“That’s the kettle,” said Zoey. “I’ll be right back with some tea for you.”

“You really don’t have to—” Hero began to weakly protest, but she cut him off with a pointed stare.

“I don’t want to hear it, Henry.”

Hero paused. It still caught him off guard every time she used his real name. It wasn’t too often that she did—only when she wanted to tell him to stop being a ‘hero.’ It was her way of reminding him to take care of himself, reminding him that it was okay if he was just ‘Henry’ for a while. If Hero was being honest, it meant a lot to him to know someone cared enough to tell him that. Zoey had been telling him that for years now, but she only started calling him ‘Henry’ to do it after he had told her about Mari.

To this day he wasn’t sure why exactly he had told her in the first place besides the fact she had sort of figured it out on her own, but he was grateful that he had told her the truth, had finally been able to share that with someone. He would never forget the way she had cried for him—held him, told him that she wished he and Mari had gotten their forever. He had been so stunned, so moved by her empathy and kindness, that he had just panicked—trying to apologize for making her sad, for making her cry. After a lot of back and forth of him apologizing profusely and her gentle reassurances that it was okay, she had finally just cut him off in that spunky little way of hers. “No. None of that, Henry,” she had said with a pointed emphasis on his real name, trying her best not to smile as she said it for possibly the first time. Even so, she had insisted, “I’m serious. I’m going to keep calling you that until you stop that. Stop being a ‘Hero’—stop worrying about everybody else for just a second. It won’t kill you to be a little selfish for once…and it’ll honestly make the rest of us look better.”

Hero chuckled lightly to himself just thinking about it. She certainly kept her word—pulled his real name out for that reason whenever she felt he needed reminding of that. There was always a certain warmth and a flutter in his chest whenever he heard her say it.

A smile tugged at his mouth as he stifled a laugh, and the way her lips twitched in the corners made him realize she was trying not to laugh now too. Could it be that even after all this time, it still felt a little unnatural, a little awkward for her to call him that? After all, she generally called him ‘Hero’ or if she was feeling playful or cheeky ‘Mr. Prince.’

Hero’s chuckling was soon drowned out by coughing again, and Zoey patted his back and handed him tissues, water, and a cough drop until he finally calmed again.

“Still think you don’t need me?” she quipped, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he admitted quietly.

Her smile widened before she gave him one final pat on the back then took off down the stairs. “I’ll be right back with the tea.”

Hero took a long, shaky breath, trying his best to stay awake as he waited for her to return. His mind was feeling hazy again—sluggish and foggy from fever and exhaustion, but a question nagged at him. How had Zoey known he was sick? Yes, she was very perceptive, and there had certainly been times he was almost convinced she had to be a mind reader but…he hadn’t been that ill when he talked to her last. He supposed Kyle could have said something, but as far as Hero knew, Kyle had just assumed he was napping not battling with a flu.

“Here’s your tea,” said Zoey, swiftly reappearing with a warm mug, a gift from his fraternity brothers that read ‘World’s Best Mama.’ Hero laughed every time he saw it, though this time it came out more like a breathy wheeze then a cough. “It’s lemon and echinacea since you’re sick. I put a little honey in it for you too.”

Hero smiled as she handed him the cup. He probably shouldn’t have been surprised. Zoey was one of his best friends. She probably knew more about him than anyone else—of course, that would extend to knowing how he took his tea. But it wouldn’t extend to knowing he was sick, would it?

“Thank you,” he mumbled, taking a sip of his cup of tea before he took a long, shaky breath. “Hey…Zoey?”

“Yeah?”

“How did you know I was sick?” Hero swallowed hard—then coughed again. Zoey tilted her head pointedly at him.

“It’s kind of obvious,” she quipped—deflecting. Hero sighed. He knew a lot about that himself.

“Yeah…but did someone tell you? Ask you to check up on me?”

Zoey sighed heavily, but she finally admitted. “Yes. Scotty mentioned it when he called me earlier. He said you were too sick to drive home this weekend so you had to cancel your trip.”

Hero blinked at her. It took a minute for the words she had said to register. Scotty was her nickname for Kel, some reference he had never quite gotten himself, but it seemed to make his brother happy to have a nickname. Hero’s head ached. His brother…? “Kel?” he asked in a weary confusion. “Kel called you?”

Zoey nodded. “I helped him with his math homework.”

Hero swallowed hard. Somehow he knew that wasn’t the entire truth. The thought made something twist in his chest. He bit his lip as he quietly asked, “Is he worried about me?”

“What do you think?” Zoey paused, but from the look she was giving him now, Hero knew the answer, if he hadn’t already. “You two are a lot alike you know—you both worry about each other but won’t really say.”

“I don’t want Kel to worry...” The words slipped out without him really thinking about them—honest, vulnerable, real. The feverish haze was loosening his tongue, it seemed. Hero’s brow furrowed. He didn’t like it for the same reasons he didn’t like drinking. It felt like losing control—only this time, he didn’t have the energy to care too much.  

“Then I don’t think not telling him anything is the answer,” Zoey replied. “Kel’s pretty smart, you know? He knows something’s wrong even when you won’t say—knew you were way sicker than you let on. He asked if I could stop by and check on you.”

Hero’s face flushed. He couldn’t really process what she was saying, “Kel did that?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

Hero swallowed hard. He met her eyes—hoping the look in them would say louder than any words that she already knew why. Ever since their fight, he had felt Kel slipping away—walking on eggshells around him like he was scared he was fragile and would snap again. No matter what he did to try to reassure Kel that he was okay and that he would never lash out at him like that ever again, Hero couldn’t shake the feeling that he was losing his brother. He tried his best to stay connected—talking to him all the time, planning trips home to visit him, even letting him stay with him in the city, and even though things had been getting better since they had learned the truth two years ago, Hero knew that they would never be the same. They could never be the same, not anymore. Not after…

“I really hurt him…” Hero’s voice cracked—breathy, dazed, but heart-wrenchingly guilty even all these years later.

He hadn’t realized he had said that aloud, until Zoey gently reassured him, “And you apologized and moved on. That’s all, in the past now. I don’t think Kel holds it against you at all.” She paused, sighed. “What if he’s sitting around, saying the same thing—worrying the same thing…?”

Hero’s chest ached, but he shook his head. “No, I…”

“Hero,” Zoey sighed, cutting him off. “If there’s distance between you and Kel, it’s only because the two of you won’t just talk to each other. If you did, maybe you’d realize you’re both scared of the exact same thing, and that it’s not worth being worried about. You had one fight. It doesn’t mean your relationship is just broken forever.”   

“It was a really big fight,” Hero gently protested, swallowing hard before he tried to catch his breath. “There are some things you just can’t come back from.”

“And I can promise you, this is not one of them.” She reached out and took his hand again, holding it tightly until he looked up at her and her reassuring green eyes. “You should hear the way Kel talks about you. It’s constant—all the time, no matter what we’re talking about. We’ll be working on polynomial functions and suddenly he’ll just start going on and on about how you always got all As on your report card or how you jumped into a lake to save Sunny and Basil or how you won some hot dog eating contest. He polishes all your trophies while you’re away at school. He’d be the first to tell you that you are the kindest, most amazing person he’s ever known, and he wants to be just like you. You’re his hero—no pun intended. And nothing you could possibly say could change that—could change how much he looks up to you.”

Hero’s face flushed red—he could feel the tips of his ears burning as he turned away from her staring down at his duvet. “He…he said all that?”

“He didn’t have to. Scotty wears his heart on his sleeve. It’s obvious, and honestly you only have to talk to him for five minutes to know how important you are to him. It honestly makes me wonder a little about what Jared and Lorraine say about me—probably nothing nice,” she chuckled teasingly with an affectionate roll of her eyes. “I can almost guarantee you; most people are not talking about their siblings like they’re actual saints behind their backs.”

Hero chuckled lightly, but his expression softened—something warm spreading through his chest as he thought about Kel. Could that really be true?

He sighed, pushing the thought away—grateful for the opportunity Zoey had given him to change the subject to her own family. Hero knew that wasn’t her intention, but he was taking the opportunity anyway. No matter how easy Zoey was to talk to and how many private and difficult things he had told her about himself, he still didn’t like to be the center of conversation and would never enjoy talking about himself. Zoey didn’t enjoy that either, so he wouldn’t want to put her on the spot, but this was about her siblings, right?

Hero didn’t know Zoey’s younger brother Jared very well, but he didn’t really seem like the type to have many nice things to say about anyone, but her twin sister, Lorraine, was also a good friend of his. They often knitted or did arts and crafts together during which time Lorraine tended to gush about her sister in a way Hero found very sweet and endearing. He hoped Lorraine wouldn’t mind if he told her that.  

“Lorraine has nothing but nice things to say about you,” he admitted with a slight smile. “She’s always telling me how smart, driven, and beautiful you are. How you’re strong and honest but so kind, so much softer than you want people to know. She says you’d make a great girlfriend.” Hero blushed. That last part had just slipped out—he probably wouldn’t have said it, if he wasn’t so feverish, but Zoey just laughed.

“Lorraine said that to you?” She sighed, rolling her eyes somewhat affectionately but the look in them was genuinely guilty. “Sorry. I’ll talk to her.”

As he coughed, Hero shook his head. “No, it’s…it’s okay. She’s right…” His voice trailed, distant and breathy, but he couldn’t stop the words that tumbled out of his mouth, “You are all of those things, and if you did ever want to date someone, that person would be very lucky…”

“Not nearly as lucky as the person who gets your heart, Mr. Prince.”

Even though Hero was sure she was only teasing him, his face flushed anyway—burning to the tips of his ears. He pursed his lips together, then stared down at his hands on the duvet. “It’s pretty broken…I’m not sure it’s much of a prize anymore,” he mumbled, trying his best to play along despite the sadness that crept into his words.

He bit his lip, but he felt her warm, gentle hand reach out to take his. He couldn’t look at her face, but he felt her squeeze his hand, heard her voice—quiet but sincere. “I don’t think that’s true.”

As he took a long, shallow breath, Hero shivered, but he wasn’t sure it was from the fever. Zoey let go of his hand immediately.

“You’re trembling. Let’s get you another blanket,” she said, turning towards Kyle’s bed. “You can have Kyle’s. He won’t mind.”

“It’s okay. I have a quilt…It’s under the bed.” Hero struggled to catch his breath as he leaned forward, trying to pull himself out of bed to look for it, but Zoey gently reached out her hand to stop him.

“I’ll get it,” she insisted; then she pulled the quilt out of one of the plastic bins under Hero’s bed—unfurling it then tucking it around him, all the way up to his chin. With a sigh, she ran her hand across the carefully stitched pattern of bright orange and yellow marigolds. “It’s beautiful.”

“My Tía Gloria made it for me after Mari died.” The words just slipped out—automatic, unfiltered. Hero flushed. He hadn’t meant to say that—probably wouldn’t have to anyone else, maybe not even to her if he was a better state.

“Oh Hero…” Zoey began quietly, but Hero cut her off with a fit of coughing that upset his blankets. Zoey pat his back again, but he could feel her tender hand running across his shoulders long after he had stopped coughing.

“Zoey…I…” he began, hoping the words would come to him if he just started talking, but thankfully she cut him off.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain anything—unless of course, you want to,” she paused, blinking at him with a soft expression in her eyes. “But I don’t need explanations, especially not now when you’re sick.”

Hero sighed in relief, and hoped the look in his eyes would convey the gratitude he didn’t quite have the strength to express at the moment. “Thank you...”

“Don’t mention it,” shrugged Zoey. “You look tired. You want me to go?”

“You can stay if you want—maybe watch a movie…?”  

Zoey smiled, but as she glanced over at the tv and shelves of tapes which, naturally almost all belonged to Kyle, she teased. “Let me guess: the choices are raunchy comedy or sports biopic?” 

Hero chuckled, lightly, breathily. Zoey certainly knew Kyle and his movie collection very well. He supposed he would expect that given how long the two of them had been friends. “We rented The Godfather from Blockbuster.”

“That’s not bad,” hummed Zoey. “But if we’re talking about Brando’s mob movies, On The Waterfront is better.”

A smile twitched in the corners of Hero’s mouth. “I have that one.”

“Really?” Zoey asked, her brow furrowing, and Hero nodded. “So you really do like old black-and-white movies after all, huh? Here I was thinking you were all talk.”

Hero let out a few chuckling heavy breaths, then swallowed hard. Finally, he took a sip of water trying to cool the burning of his hoarse throat. “I only have a few tapes. Most are in color, but I have some black-and-white.” He paused—shutting his eyes as he tried to clear his head—sifting through the fogginess to focus on his tape collection until he could picture it in the feverish haze of his mind. “Casablanca, Roman Holiday, It’s A Wonderful Life, 12 Angry Men, Christmas in Connecticut…”

“You do not have Christmas in Connecticut over there,” Zoey interrupted in disbelief.

Hero took a deep breath, but he nodded. “It’s on the bottom shelf.”

“I’ve never met another person who has even heard of that movie,” laughed Zoey, but Hero just shrugged, pulling the quilt up around his shoulders again.

“It’s one of my favorites. Always makes me laugh. I love the scene where she tries to flip the flapjacks and the pancake sticks to the ceiling.” Hero laughed then, par for the course, coughed.

“It’s one of my mom’s favorite movies too,” Zoey said as he handed him his water, giving him a firm but gentle pat on the back for good measure. “I used to wonder if that was because the main character falls in love with a navy guy.”

“Like your dad…?” asked Hero, worrying only after the fact that it was a prying question. He didn’t know much about Zoey’s father except that he was an admiral in the navy, and, according to Kyle, particularly stern, serious, and somewhat frightening. Zoey, however, only shrugged.

“I don’t know. I think my dad is a lot rougher around the edges than Jefferson Jones.” Her lips curved into a smile. “Jefferson’s pretty soft—quite the catch actually: sincere, generous, kind, domestic…and he can play piano.”

Hero’s brow furrowed, and he stumbled in confusion, “Is…that a…?”

“Perk?” Zoey finished for him. Then she chuckled dryly and nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Are you just saying that because you know I can play?” asked Hero dryly, but his mouth twitched in the corners.

“You know I’ve never actually heard you play before,” she teased back. “You could be terrible. In which case, it wouldn’t be a perk at all—more like a deterrent.”

Hero chuckled lightly. “I probably am terrible. I’m really rusty, and out of practice.”

“Well, we’ll never know for sure will we.” Her mouth curved into a lopsided grin before her expression softened. “Though Scotty told me you used to be quite the pianist—had a lot of fun with it. What did you used to play when you were in practice?”

“Nothing too complicated. I…I think my favorite song to play was ‘Vienna.’”

“Billy Joel?” asked Zoey, and Hero hummed. “That has a great piano part.”

“Yeah it’s pretty fun. I’ve always been a fan.”

“I can see that…” teased Zoey glancing over at the stack of CDs on Hero’s bedside table. Cold Spring Harbor was on the top—probably because Hero had been listening to a particular song on it on repeat. His face flushed as he thought about why, but he swallowed hard and shrugged his shoulders, trying his best to push the thought away.

“I used to annoy Kel with it a little, I think,” he admitted. “I played it over and over. He once threw a pillow at me while I was practicing and yelled ‘Don’t you know any other songs?’” Hero chuckled breathily, and Zoey laughed.

“When was the last time you played it?”

“I dunno. It’s been years…had to have been before Mari died.” He paused—catching his breath, but he kept talking, almost like he couldn’t stop. “I haven’t really played anything since then. I played a few bars on her piano before her family moved away, but…” His voice hitched, and his chest ached—panging in that all too familiar space in his heart that Mari had left behind. “You know I…honestly I learned to play piano because she loved it. I enjoyed it sure—it was fun, but Mari…Mari was the one who had real passion for music and I guess…I just wanted to be part of that. After she died, I just…I didn’t want to play anymore—didn’t want to play without her.”

Hero stopped—his face flushing. He hadn’t meant to say all of that. Talking about Mari with Zoey was getting easier—clearly, but he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing, just like he wasn’t sure if he would have even said all of that if he hadn’t been sick or feverish. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her, to know that he made the smile disappear from her face, made something sad pass over her eyes.

“I’m sorry…” he began to apologize. “I keep talking about her…” Swallowing hard, he stared down intently at his quilt—running his hands over the thoughtfully embroidered orange and yellow marigolds—a symbol of hope, remembrance, a connection that endures even after death.

“It’s okay, Hero…” said Zoey, quiet, gentle as she reached out to pat his hand. “And it’s okay if you never want to play piano again either. You don’t have to. It’s nothing to feel guilty about.”

Hero took a long breath, watching as Zoey’s fingers slipped between his. He curled his hand catching hers—intertwining their fingers, holding on tightly to her. “I’d play for you if you wanted…”

“I know you would,” Zoey replied with a tilt of her head and a kind smile. “And as much as I would love to hear you play piano, I’d only want you to play because that’s what you wanted—not because you felt obligated. Someday if you see a piano and you just feel like playing, I hope you will and then you can call me and play for me, but don’t force yourself. It should be something that makes you happy, like it used to.”

Hero’s chest ached, but he managed the twitch of a bantering smile as he asked dryly, “How else will I pay you back for taking care of me when I was sick?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. Our debts are paid,” she insisted with a dismissive wave of her hand. “You took care of me first remember, and besides I’ve already gotten my reward which is getting to see you in your grandpa pajamas,” she teased winking playfully at him.

“Zoey!” Hero burst into a fit of laughter mixed with intense, nasty coughing.

“If you’re going to have a coughing fit every time you laugh, do you really think we should watch this movie?” she quipped, but Hero shrugged.

“It’s fine. I’m probably just going to fall asleep anyway.”

Chuckling, Zoey got up from her seat and put the tape into the VCR with a “Okay. Whatever you say” then she curled up on the edge of Kyle’s bed—pulling her knees to her chest as she leaned back into his mountain of throw pillows.

Hero chuckled a little himself before his weary eyes started drooping again. He had been right, of course. He started nodding off during the opening credits and was sound asleep before he even got anywhere close to his favorite flapjack scene. He wasn’t sure if he had dreamed it or imagined it in a half-asleep daze, but he could have sworn that once the movie had ended, he had felt gentle fingers tangling in his hair as it was pushed out of his forehead and Zoey’s voice whispering, “C.J.’s back now and will keep an eye on you, so I’m going to head out. You take care of yourself, Henry…”

*-*-*

Two Weeks Later…

“You made it!” exclaimed Kel excitedly as Hero walked through the front door with his suitcase. Kel threw his arms around him, hugging him tightly.

“Sorry it took so long,” Hero chuckled lightly as he scratched the back of his neck somewhat sheepishly.

“Are you feeling better at least?” asked Kel with a kind smile, and Hero nodded.

“Yeah…I was only sick for a couple of days, and my friends looked after me.” Hero paused, meeting Kel’s eyes with an expression that said more than his words, “Thanks for that, Kel.”

Kel flushed a little, but he laughed. So Hero had figured that out after all? He should’ve expected that from his brother. He was always so smart. Luckily, he didn’t seem to mind too much that Kel had meddled, not that he’d really tell him if he had. Still Kel smiled and teased, “Hey, no problem. You’re lucky I didn’t drive up there myself.”  

“Your father and I almost drove up too,” said their mom before she pulled Hero into another hug herself. “It was horrible thinking of you so sick in the city all alone.”

Hero’s face softened, as he pulled away from their mother to look her in the eyes. “I was fine, Mom. Please don’t worry.”

“Hero! Hero! Wanna play zoo?” exclaimed Sally, twirling around him with her favorite plastic animal toys until he scooped her up into a hug.

“Of course, Sally, but uh…”

“Give him a minute,” Kel interjected with a good-natured laugh. “He hasn’t even taken his coat off yet.

“Oh let me take that,” said their dad—patting Hero heartily on the back as he slipped his arms out of his coat. “It’s good to have you home.”

“Good to be home, Dad,” Hero replied with a kind smile.

“Let me take your bag upstairs,” exclaimed Kel reaching for the suitcase Hero had brought with him, but his brother reached out a hand to stop him.

“Oh…you don’t have to do that. I can get it.”

Kel waved his hand at him. “Don’t be silly. It’s just upstairs. Come on. You can freshen up for dinner too.”

“I made all your favorites,” said Mom. “And I even ordered a hero sandwich for you from Gino’s.”

Hero scratched the back of his neck—the slightest tint of pink in his cheeks. “Thanks, Mom, but you really didn’t have to go through all that trouble.”

Kel snickered and was still snickering as Hero followed him up the stairs. “You know Mom’s just going to make a big deal out of every time you visit even if you tell her not to, right?”

Hero sighed conceding, “Yeah…”

As Kel opened the door to their room, he set Hero’s suitcase down on his bed—still perfectly made from the last time he had visited, but as he turned back to his brother he paused, tilting his head curiously as he watched Hero staring wide-eyed at their old keyboard, pushed up against the wall next to the door.

“Oh uh…yeah…we found that when we were cleaning out the garage—” Kel shrugged, scratching the nape of his neck. “Thought we might as well set it up again.”

“Are you going to start playing again?” Hero asked, and Kel laughed.

“Nah. I don’t think I can even read music anymore, but maybe Sally will want to. She likes to come in here and bang on it sometimes—doesn’t sound much like music though.”

Hero chuckled, but before he could say anything, Kel said, “Or you could…if you wanted. I found a bunch of your old books and sheet music and stuff.” He motioned to a box on the ground near the keyboard, but he twisted his mouth to the side. He didn’t want to seem pushy. He knew Hero hadn’t played since Mari had died, and he probably wouldn’t want to ever again. Kel supposed, it was just one of those things his brother just couldn’t bring himself to do without Mari.

Kel sighed—blinking at Hero’s unreadable expression. Had it made him sad? He couldn’t tell. Maybe he should have given him a heads up about the keyboard or hidden it in the garage or something while he was visiting?

“Yeah. Thanks, Kel,” shrugged Hero, clearly putting this conversation to rest.

“Well uh…” Kel began to stumble before his mother’s voice called for him.

“Kel, can you come give me a hand for a minute?”

“Sure, Mom!” he yelled before turning back to Hero with a somewhat helpless shrug of his shoulders. “Hey, uh…I’ll be right back okay?”

Hero nodded, and Kel disappeared through the doorway. He shook his head. Why did everything have to be so awkward?

Kel sighed, and his chest ached. He knew why. But he swallowed hard—pushing the thought away, focusing instead on helping his mom set the table. As he was setting out some silverware, he stopped abruptly—his ears perking up at the sound of distant music, a familiar progression of notes he recognized.

“Do you hear that?” gasped Kel in disbelief, but it seemed his mom could only blink at him with wide, surprised eyes as Sally gushed and giggled.

“So pretty!”

Kel nearly dropped the silverware he was holding—fumbling around with the forks and spoons until he finally dropped them in a disorganized heap on the table and raced up the stairs—that all-too-familiar song growing louder and louder. As he burst through the door of his room, he could scarcely believe his eyes. Hero was sitting at the keyboard—his hands gliding across the keys playing music again.

“Hero?” Kel choked in a breathy disbelief which must have startled his brother because he stopped playing abruptly—clearly bumping the wrong keys in surprise creating a dissonant chord.

“Oh uh…sorry…” he mumbled, his face flushing somewhat sheepishly as he fidgeted—recoiling his hands away from the keyboard. “I just uh…I saw the keyboard and…wanted to play…”

Kel could only blink at him with wide, dark eyes. “You wanted to play piano?”

Hero’s blush deepened, but he nodded. “Yeah…uh…” He scratched the back of his neck. “I know you don’t really like that song but the music was on the top of the stack and…”

His voice trailed, and Kel’s expression softened, brightening into a wide smile. He supposed Hero was right. Once, what felt like a lifetime ago, he had given his brother all kinds of grief for playing that particular song over and over, but in the years that had followed, he would have given anything to hear him play it one more time, would have given anything to hear him play again. And now that he hadn’t heard it in so long—now that their room, their home had been quiet and empty for so long…

“I…I can try to play something else…” Hero chuckled awkwardly, but Kel cut him off.  

“No, I’ve never been happier to hear anything in my whole life.”

Hero laughed lightly, and his mouth curved into a smile—a real one that reached his eyes.

Kel’s chest ached. He had missed that even more than the music. He rushed forward—throwing his arms around his brother and hugging him tightly, hoping that gesture would say more than his words ever could.

“Kel!” Hero gasped quietly, leaning backward in surprise, his shoulders stiffening a little before he relaxed. He wrapped his arms around his brother, running his hand across his back as Kel pressed his chin to his shoulder.

Kel shut his eyes tightly, but he whispered with the brightest smile on his face, “It’s so good to have you back.”

He could feel the chuckle reverberating in Hero’s chest before his brother patted him on the head and whispered, “It’s good to be back.”