#At least not without feeling weird. To me

[milktiicup]

do you write for mr scarletella? :) if so, may i request jealous scarlet who makes attempts to get closer to reader (court them) after seeing how close they are to mr crawling

persistence is key

That creepy smile grows on his face. "You like me," he says like it’s a fact. “What the- what?” You share a glance with Mr. Crawling. “You slow in head?”

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮ yeah idk, lowkey some enemies to (potential) lovers, i have no idea how to characterise mr scarletella, but i tried my best and then i kinda got a little too invested in trying to spin the fic the way i wanted and wrote a little more than usual... sorry if ur disappointed, i tried to keep the whole courting/jealous thing subtle but still kinda there >w<

warnings. canon typical violence >w<

You’re not sure when you met the man in red, but you know he’s stalking you now. And it’s getting seriously old. Unlike the ghosts and monsters you’ve had the pleasure of meeting, this one doesn’t know how to take a hint.

Your first unofficial encounter with him is something that sent shivers down your spine, tucked away under Mr. Crawling’s arm and clutching onto his kimono for dear life. The second encounter was much worse- separated from your other worldly protector and left running down an almost comically long and creepy hallway where he just magically appears in front of you. 

You don’t even think twice before you smash the crowbar into his form with all your strength, but it was futile the way he flickered? in front of your own eyes and left a weird moist residue on your weapon. You scowled, and rudely pointed a finger at him- “What the hell’s your problem, dude?”

In response, he leaned in close- so close that your nose nearly touched his. The tilt of his scarlet umbrella cast a dark shadow over you, and as he peered down, one black eye appeared from behind his hair, locking onto you with a soul-piercing stare. You felt stripped bare under that gaze, vulnerable and exposed, like he was seeing straight into your core, uncovering forgotten memories, pieces of yourself even you couldn’t remember. He smiled—a slow, unsettling curl of his lips that chilled you to your bones—and said something you didn’t understand. It sounded like a question, maybe, though you couldn’t be sure. You didn’t care. You spat out a few choice words and swung again, hard.

At least for a while, he left you alone.

Has it been days, weeks, or even months since you’ve got here? It was difficult to keep track, and it was difficult to even care anymore. The place was, without a doubt, growing on you by the day. Even if it was filled with hostile creatures that wanted to eat you sometimes, and when your skin started to get discoloured and you had the inhuman itch that just could never be satisfied- it wasn’t that bad! Hell, you even made a few friends and claimed a comfortable bed in some random room you found.

However, just as you finally started settling into the place, you had your third encounter with Mr. Scarletella.

It started with a dream- from before you came to this world. That man in red… A test of courage, your friends called it- spending a night in those so-called ‘Ghost Apartments.’ Your friends hadn’t known it then, but you were quite familiar with the building for reasons, and set yourself up in a cosy corner and the night was supposed to sail smoothly.

A rumour had surfaced- a tale of a ruin that appears only on rainy days, where you’re warned never to give your name to the figure you’ll meet there. That figure, they said, would take your soul. At the end of a dim hallway, standing silently under a scarlet umbrella, he was waiting. The man in red, eyes hidden beneath his hair. He was watching you. Or was he? Somehow you could feel his stare even if you couldn’t see it. 

You woke up, heart pounding, muttering a string of curses. You groan, rubbing a hand down your face. The discoloration of your skin hadn’t gotten any worse, but it hadn’t gotten better, either. The longer you stayed here, the more the place left its mark. As long as you remained relatively human, and the only thing this place took from you was your memory, you weren’t too fussed. How could you possibly miss something from the other world when all you could remember was smashing a crowbar into someone’s head?

You swing your legs over the bed, feet touching the cold ground. The chill sent a jolt up your spine, and it was almost too tempting to get back under the cosy, warm sheets. You stretch your arms above your head, bones cracking and popping into place and mumble a hazy ‘Good morning’ to Mr. Crawling that should have been in the other bed. Silence wasn’t something you were used to around him- and you whip around so fast that you gave yourself whiplash.

Cursing, you grab your crowbar and stumble out of the room with a hand rubbing your tender neck. You didn’t need to look far- you could see Mr. Crawling at the end of the hallway.

And Mr. Scarletella. 

The man in red was bent over to be face to face with Mr. Crawling, all-too-familiar sinister smirk on his face. Mr. Crawling didn’t look so happy either, and they seemed to be having an argument. You stomp your feet as you make your way over to the two, hand tightening on your crowbar as you ready yourself to fight literal static if it meant leaving your best friend in here alone.

“You,” you scowl, pointing your weapon at him. “You problem?”

Mr. Crawling scurries to your side, a hand gripping onto your clothes. “Dangerous… should get away!” he urges, tugging. 

You shush him with a pat on his head with your free hand and continue to glare at that menace. 

“You like them?” is the only thing Mr. Scarletella asks with a tilt of his head, smile seemingly disappearing into thin air.

Glancing at Mr. Crawling, his face covered in worry- you feel the familiar itch of your skin. You take a breath, going through all the reasons why you can’t actually kill Mr. Scarletella, and loosen the grip on your crowbar. From what you can sense right now, he’s not actually that much of a threat. Just a nuisance that can’t seem to leave you alone. 

“Them friend,” you reply, deadpan. What type of question was that anyway? This guy was a freak. 

That creepy smile grows on his face. "You like me," he says like it’s a fact.

“What the- what?” You share a glance with Mr. Crawling. You turn back to Mr. Scarletella. “You slow in head?”

The smile on Mr. Scarletella’s face falters just for a moment, but it quickly returns, more chilling than before. He stands there, towering above you. Despite your snarky comment, he doesn’t look offended- no, it’s almost as if he’s intrigued by your resistance.

You tighten your hold on the crowbar. “You problem.” You frown. “Go away.”

Instead, his grin deepens, his head tilting at such an unnatural angle that you can feel your stomach churn. It’s as though he’s studying you, savouring every little bit of your discomfort. Surely, turning your head at that angle is gonna hurt… You audibly gulp.

“Problem later,” Mr. Scarletella says, and with an unsettling flicker, he’s gone. 

The next time you saw him after that was in less tense circumstances. It was unsettling after whatever that was with his coy little ‘Problem later’, you weren’t going to worry too much about it for the time being. You decided you’ll worry about it when the problem occurs, which probably wasn’t the smartest of ideas you had. 

The earth shakes, and you’re completely cut off from Mr. Crawling. Wandering down hallways, resting in random rooms- you never really felt alone. You turn a corner, dizziness growing by the minute, and pause.

“You again,” you sigh. You don’t even bother lifting your crowbar at him. “What do you want?”

He appears directly in front of you, causing you to stumble back a few steps at just how tall he is. He bends down to your eye level, umbrella covering both of you once again. “Give name?” he asks. 

“No. Go away.”

“Give name. Teach.”

“Go away!”

“Teach name.”

“Fine! My name’s… you pause. You didn’t actually have to give him your real name, did you? “...Silvair, or something.”

He gets closer to your face. You take another few steps back, but not before you get the smell of blood and dampness off of him. It takes all the willpower in your body to not scrunch your face up. 

“Wrong name.”

“So what? It’s a name.” You scoff. Mr. Scarletella is silent, eerily so, and you can feel his piercing gaze stare through you once more. You awkwardly avoid eye contact, and clear your throat. “I’m… gonna go now, okay?” You turn on your feet and only make it a few steps.

“You teach them name?”

Them? Mr. Crawling? That guy doesn’t even understand the concept of his own name! The scowl feels as if it’s permanently etched onto your face. You whip around, pointing another disapproving finger into his red raincoat. It feels fuzzy… and wet. It grosses you out, almost. More than Mr. Gap’s greasy hair.

“No,” you hiss. “I don’t even remember my own name.” He stares, silently.  “Me,” you point to yourself, “not know name.”

“...Not know name?” he echoes. What you said has him lost, you could see that. 

Just like that, he’s gone again. You don’t see him for a few more days, nor do you find Mr. Crawling. You spend your time aimlessly wandering, knowing eventually you’ll most likely find someone you know in a friendly manner, and not pondering if every ghost you come across is a friend or a foe. 

You awake promptly to a sound of a chainsaw revving. As if it was a morning routine, you stumble to your feet, grasping for your crowbar that should have, without a doubt, been next to you… only to grasp at air. Okay, now you are starting to feel a little panic.

Through trial and error, you knew that whatever wound you receive will heal, with time- but it doesn’t mean you were looking forward to being maimed to shreds with a chainsaw! 

“Hehe.”

You froze, heart racing, and slowly turn around. There that wretched little being was- the stupid little fucker in the goat costume. The ‘Hooded Child’, the thing was termed. In it’s stupid little fucking hands, it held you handy-dandy crowbar that’s been with you thick and thin. Your stomach churns. 

You gulp and face back towards the open doorway- a long black abyss, stretching on and on, with only the haunting bounce of that chainsaw, crawling along the walls. That chainsaw that was about to mince you in a matter of seconds. That chainsaw that was approaching you rapidly.

Frantically, you grab the nearest thing you could reach for. A metal chair. You wince. Probably not the best thing you could’ve grabbed, but it’ll have to do. It’s a matter of- well, technically life or life, but still! You could feel the sweat on your palms, the adrenaline pumping through your veins and your heart hammering through your ribcage. 

You lift the chair above your head as the monster comes into view- a tall, masked being in a strapless floor length black dress… wait, why was she dressed so sexy? Your surprise leads you to hesitate as she rushes at you with her machine. You let out a yelp as you whack the chair down in front of you, metal clanging echoing throughout the room.

Complete silence. Not even the sound of that chainsaw. Not even the sound of metal.  

“Huh?” You blink, once, twice, thrice at the sliced up body of that creature, blood splatter on your clothes. There was blood even on the ceiling, too… You drop the chair in utter confusion.  “What the hell?”

“Help you.”

“You again!” You spin on your feet, meeting the dull eyes of Mr. Scarletella. You’re about to huff and puff this guy into next week, but pause. You leave your accusing finger down by your side. This guy just saved you from that thing. You avert your eyes and scuff your feet against the ground with a cough into your fist. “Uhm… Thank you.”

Wow, this guy really has an intense stare… Way to make things unnecessarily intense and awkward. 

“Protect you,” he says. “You like me?”

“Take me out to dinner first, man!” you exclaim, crossing your arms over your chest. “Not like. You not bad. Not good. You okay.”

Mr. Scarletella dons an out of place frown that even makes you feel a little uneasy. “Them protect you. You like them.”

“Them friend,” you stress, finally meeting his gaze once more. You kind of regret it. This guy doesn’t blink. “You…” Weird? Off-putting? Freaky? “...unsafe.”

“Me safe. Protect you. Help you.” 

You sigh. “Unsafe to friend.”

He just stands there, holding that stupid umbrella, with that unblinking stare. You blink at him and squint your eyes. His facial expression doesn’t change. Completely unfazed. You can’t even tell if he’s confused, or upset, or whatever he could possibly be. Your breath hitches as his unsettlingly familiar smile returns.

He tilts his head. “Me good. Me show you.”

Then he’s gone again. You can finally breathe. Your heart is still pumping. You slide against the wall, landing on the ground and resting your head against your knees. You clutch at your raincoat with shaking fists. 

Mr. Scarletella - you knew he was meant to be dangerous, but he just saved you a whole lot of pain. Even if he was still a threat to Mr. Crawling, and hounds you for your name, asks you weird questions, could he honestly be as bad as you originally thought he was? You can’t deny that he did save you… but his presence is more dangerous than comforting. He’s both a threat and an aid, but never clear on which he’ll be at any given moment. One thing is for certain, however, and that was that he was persistent for your attention. Wait… 

Oh my good God, does he like you?

“Heh…”  Chuckling, you tuck your hair behind your ear. “I am pretty cute.”

You stand, and decide it’s better to think about while on the move back to Mr. Crawling. You reach for your crowbar, and curse. Of course. The Hooded Child took it with them when they disappeared when Mr. Stalkerella showed up. Well, you sigh as you drag the chair behind you as you exit the room, at least you have a temporary weapon, for now…

Making it back to Mr. Crawling didn’t take that much longer. He greets you, frown on his face and long arms wrapping around your waist. “Me worried! You gone long time!”  

“Long time,” you agree, bending down to his level. You ruffle his hair, a smile finally sliding onto your face. It quickly turns into a pout as you wave your empty hands. “Lost attack tool.” 

Mr. Crawling points to the spilled blood on your raincoat with a high pitched noise. You sheepishly giggle, and gesture to the chair behind you. He tilts his head, processing, before letting out his all familiar laugh. You sigh in content, glad to see a friendly face and let him pet you for a while. 

He stops petting you, and turns around. “Attack tool!” he smiles wide, your trusty weapon in his grey hands. “Them give me.”

“Them?” you repeat, taking the crowbar, twisting and turning it in your grasp. “Them who?”

“Them!” 

Curse this damn language. 

“Mr. Crawling,” you hold his face in your hands, “what look like?”

His smile falters, and if you could see his eyebrows, you’d imagine they would be furrowed. He takes a moment to think, and points to the blood on your raincoat, and attempts to imitate holding an…

Umbrella.

You stare. And stare. And stare. You can’t even begin to process what Mr. Crawling just said to you, debating maybe you actually were growing crazy and it was finally time to bounce out of this place- andddd of course, you notice a red flicker at the end of the hallway. You tilt your head past Mr. Crawling.

That scarlet umbrella tilts slightly, and just for a split second, you catch a glimmer of that piercing dark eye staring straight at you, as if watching every nerve fire under your skin. You can see his smile from here, as if it was a smug ‘I told you so’ but it was actually a ‘Me show you.’ 

Well… Mr. Scarletella did show you. And now you were just left, to put it simply, utterly fucking confused. It just drilled the narrative down deeper of the possibility that he did like you. So… what do you do now? Do you apologise for trying to smash his head in with a crowbar? For being so rude? 

How do you even apologise for something you don’t even remotely feel sorry for in the first place? Mr. Scarletella was creepy! …At least, he was kind of sweet. Not really- his intentions were anything but kind. But still!

You bite the inside of your cheek. …Is it wrong to feel a little flattered? There’s barely any romance in this place anyway!

In your world, things are either friend or foe, monster or protector. But Mr. Scarletella? He exists in some in-between place. Dangerous yet helpful. It’s as if he’s deliberately defying every category you try to force him into. And now, the memory of his unsettling question repeats in your mind- “You like me?” - echoing in your thoughts with a kind of twisted innocence that gnaws at you, a bit more with each repetition.

Mr. Crawling gives a soft, anxious chirp, tugging you slightly, drawing you out of your thoughts. He’s still eyeing the red figure warily. He points. “Them… dangerous? Them good?” 

“Not know,” you mumble, defeated. “Good, maybe.” You stand to your feet, crowbar falling off of your lap and clanging onto the floor. “Me, them, talk. You stay.”

Mr. Crawling makes a noise of protest, hand reaching out to grasp at your clothes. You reassuringly ruffle his hair once more, and make your way to the end of the hallway. You don’t hear him follow behind you.

Face to face, you stand in front of the smiling Mr. Scarletella. He stares down at you, unblinking, unmoving. 

“Can’t give name,” you remind him.

He leans his face down, ever so close. “Me like you.” A pause. “Want you.” Another pause. “You like me. Give me many human. Give me many blood.” 

Well… In your defence, you didn’t know your corpse dumping ground was Mr. Scarletella’s domain. 

“Getting in over your own head…” you grumble, and lift up your hand. You pinch your fingers together. “Little like you. Okay? LITTLE.” You wonder if this guy’s smile could get any bigger, geez… “You want big like?” You point your index towards him. “Be normal. Be good. Understand?”

“Normal? “Good?” He seems to chew over the words like they’re a foreign delicacy, his head tilting at that unnatural angle again. “For… you?”

“You good,” you waggle your finger at him, “I teach name. Maybe. If I can remember it…”

There’s an unnatural, prolonged silence in the air. You’re beginning to feel the awkward tension once more, but your resolve refuses you to break the unblinking eye contact you keep with him. 

And finally, he speaks once more, agreeing to your proposition, “You teach good, you teach name.”

You hold back your groan- whatever this dance you two were playing, was going to take a long time to progress.

But at least something is better than nothing, right?

[icarusredwings]

I think that Wade is a heavy switch, but the moment you offer him to bottom, he's already assuming the position.

Logan is used to topping and yes he's a service top but man sometimes wade can get him in this mood ans take such good care of him that he's a mess, ripping the sheets, trying to cover his face, doing this weird mixed whine and growl because god hes so happy and wade makes sure hes okay during the entire thing but hes also pissed off because hes suppose to be the top.

Toxic masc things tell him that being the bottom is bad. But his husband tells him such sweet things and he cant help but wrap his legs around him like hes gonna leave him.

" 'm not going anywhere, baby. Promise. Come're, yeah, you like that? Oh theres my big strong boy. Hes doing so good for me oh yes he is."

Its the death of him. And it only took once.

Wade did it exactly once. And suddenly... he understands how Vanessa could stay so long, and makes the immediate decision that he isnt leaving either without a fight.

Hes so confused after too. Like what just happened? He was just told all these nice things, held, kissed, cuddled, brought snacks and a water, Wade had even had him cleaned up before his high was even over.

He just sits there... staring.. processing the fact that he could have felt this love THE WHOLE TIME? And no one told him?

Later he finds out that wade can do the same while riding him and man.. hes gonna have to put a ring on that thang sooner or later.

Is it possible to be so relaxed and loved, but still growl? Yes. And wade coes over him and rubs his cheeks telling him "Awww my big scary wolvie. You're so mad at me aren't you? Some guy making you feel all these emotions and they're all just bubbling up, huh?"

"Gggr-....Mmmhmmh...."

"Awww yeah I know big boy. My brave honey badger. It's okay, I got you. I'd never be upset with you for having confusing feelings, Loagie."

Oh great now hes hard agian.

Just keeps being like and it becomes somewhat of logans addiction for awhile. Being talked to like this while his brains are fucked out.

If you throw vanessa in the mix suddenly everyone is playing twister because one night ness can be the boss and the next logan is the boss, and then sometimes, rarely, Wade is the boss and those nights are very cuddly and full of babbling dirty talk and kisses.

Either way- when you throw two touch starved insecure and untrusting men together you are bound to have a praise kink sesh at least twice a week.

[nanenna]

Jeez Louise This is a Mess

Sleepy King (Nenna edition) Master Post

Apologies in advance, I'm not very familiar with John Constantine, trying to do anything from his perspective is definitely an unwise decision. I have chosen it anyway. He's almost definitely OOC.

---

John watched the Fentons and the mayor just saunter through the brand new hole in the mayor’s wall like this was just a normal Friday for them. Considering how weird the town was as a whole, it probably was. And he meant that by the old meaning of the word and as literal as one could possibly interpret it. He’d never been anywhere where the veil was so thin over such a large area, with æther so thick in the air of course it was affecting the locals. Probably had something to do with whoever or whatever had cloaked the whole town.

John turned to Tall Dark and Broody, “So, what happened to all the bugs and trackers you put on them originally?”

Batsy frowned, “Danny’s are still in the Fenton residence, expected since he clearly changed his clothes. His parents’ trackers and bugs all went offline not long after arriving home, the ones I placed inside the residence are malfunctioning.”

“And that’s not the least bit suspicious?” John asked.

“It’s incredibly suspicious,” Batsy said with a completely straight face before turning and also walking right out the brand new hole. “I suggest you actually use the comm I gave you earlier, they’re explaining the situation to Masters.”

Unfortunately Mr. Gargles Gravel for Breakfast had a point, John sighed and did put in the comm, though he knew it would be spotty with the use of magic to follow the group. Batsy and Wonder Woman could follow however they liked, John did not have the energy for that.

The comms were staticky, cutting in and out even without John’s abuse of the thin veil to quick step around town. Not surprising, the amount of pure death magic radiating off the two dead-alive people in that tank would be enough to mess with most electronics even if the veil weren’t practically non-existent.

“Somehow this place feels cozy,” Boston commented as he followed John.

“You would think so.”

The conversation on the comm was getting worse, the bugs were clearly slowly giving up the ghost. John only caught a few words here and there, and those were only because they were Ghost Speak, something that shouldn’t be possible for flesh and blood mouths to speak. It’s just bits and pieces, names and titles mostly, but if he’s understanding this right…

“Huh, that may change the situation a bit.”

“What are you going on about?” Boston asked.

“It sounds like Pariah isn’t the Ghost King anymore. But Batsy’s bugs are losing the war against æther, so when we get there you’re gonna need to go spy on them.”

“Will that work?”

“Try to keep out of sight, but even if you get caught the worst they’ll do is kick you out. Undead solidarity.”

Boston grumbled, but when John met back up with Batsy and Wonder Woman staring through a window right to where the group was talking, Boston did as he was asked and slipped right through the wall and inside. John cast a quick spell to spy through Boston.

Boston floated slowly into the room, seemingly becoming braver as the Fentons looked right past him without reacting. Unfortunately, he got a little too close to the one person in the room that could definitely see him. The kid jumped out of his seat in surprise.

“Don't sneak up on me like that!” The kid whined as he picked himself up off the floor. Then he froze, eyes glaring at Boston. “How did you sneak up on me? You didn't activate my ghost sense at all.”

“Oh, you can see me? And ghost sense?”

“You don't know who I am?”

“Uh… Daniel Fenton?”

“Well yes, but ghosts don't usually call me that.”

“Then what do they call you?”

“How about you tell me your name first?”

“I’m Deadman.”

The kid burst into laughter. “Are you for real?”

“Danny, is it Youngblood?” The sister asked.

“Huh?” The kid looked to his older sister, then back to Boston. He gestured, “You can't see him?”

The Fentons all shook their heads.

The creepy mayor came back into the room holding a cardboard box, knocking a thin layer of dust from the top. “Here it is!” He looked up and frowned. “Who are you, and why are you in my home?”

“I’m Deadman and I’m uh… lost?”

“He didn't set off my ghost sense,” the kid added. He turned back to Boston, “Are you even a ghost?”

Batman, who’d spent the last few minutes getting into the perfect position while he waited for the most dramatic moment chose then to crash through the window. John started cursing as he rushed to climb in after the loon, already prepping a spell. The moment he had a clear line of sight he shot off the revelation spell at the kid.

It did… well not much.

Really about all it did was give the kid a couple extra accessories. He expected them, but he also expected it to somehow reveal the kid’s undead status too. Make him look all glowy and ghostly like he had when he’d first arrived last night, because John was pretty sure the kid hadn’t been kidnapped after all. Or at least not how they originally assumed, he was pretty sure some spirits considered an unwilling summons a kidnapping.

Still, there the crown was. Just floating over the kid’s head, toxic green æther flames around it like a death energy aurora. And like any teenager the kid seemed completely oblivious, having to be told the crown was even there. Once he got a hand on it though he said something odd, “Okay, crown retrieved.”

John just tucked his hands in his pockets, waiting to see what they were doing. Why did they think they needed to find the crown?

“We may have a problem,” The creepy mayor said as he pulled an identical crown from his cardboard box.

“What.” The kid looked back and forth between the crown in his hand and the one in the creeper’s. “Why are there two?”

And, well, John agreed. Why the fuck were there two? He already started muttering an identification spell as the kid turned to him.

“What did you do?!”

“I didn't do anything,” John protested, “that was purely an identification spell, it can't duplicate things!”

“Well clearly you did something wrong,” The kid’s mom said while glaring at the him.

Of course things got dicey after that, the kid and the creepy mayor got into a fight over the second crown, things turned into a right mess, and John was quite content to let them squabble among themselves. He moved to go stand next to Batsy and Wonder Woman, Boston with him, waiting to see how this went.

Of course the tussle then turned into fighting over the ring on the kid’s finger, still blaming John for just revealing the crown and ring the kid had apparently had this whole time.

“Alright, that’s enough. Shut up!” John may have put a bit of intent into that, and it worked beautifully. The whole group stopped and stared at him, finally shutting up. The parents managed to get between the kid and the creeper, each one still with one of the crowns.

The crowns he now knew were both, somehow, legitimate.

John pointed at the kid, “Just call the crown, it’ll listen.”

The kid gave him a disbelieving look. “Oh sure, I’ll just,” he hunched forward a little bit, clapped his hands, and whistled like he was calling a dog, “here Crowny, Crowny, Crowny.”

For a brief moment nothing happened, then the creeper mayor jerked forward as the crown yanked itself from his hand. It went to go join the other crown floating over the kid’s head, one of them grew wider so the other could nestle inside it, both spinning in place but in opposite directions.

Everyone was staring at the display.

“What uh… what are they doing?” The kid asked nervously.

“They… like each other?” The sister asked skeptically.

“Great, wonderful, fabulous, just what I need in my life.” The kid sighed and turned to glare at John. “What. Did. You. DO?!”

“I didn’t do shit,” John replied, much to the parents’ combined horror. “Looks like somehow they’re both legit, my best guess is one of them isn’t from this timeline.”

“Oh,” the sister said, grabbing everyone’s attention. “The Nasty Burger explosion happened after the fight with the king, right?”

“The what?” the kid’s parents asked.

“Oh,” the kid responded, “I’m starting to see why the council of eyeballs hates my guts.”

And wasn’t that a concerning sentence. John desperately needed a drink, thankfully he had a flask on him and chose that moment to take a swig. “Alright, so there should be a second ring too, no point leaving that on Dark’s finger in case he gets out again.”

“Vlad did it,” the kid said while pointing at the creeper.

“Excuse me!” Creeper actually put a hand to his neck, like some fainting Victorian lady.

“Vlad tried to steal the ring and crown, so he let Dark out of the sarcophagus and I had to go clean up his mess, like always.” The kid glared at the creeper, it was starting to paint a really concerning picture.

“I’m sure Vladdie was just trying to keep these powerful artifacts safe,” the kid’s dad said loudly and happily. Yeah, there was the concerning picture again.

“I’d believe it if all he took was the ring, but the crown was safely sealed away with Pariah and he let the guy out to steal it.”

“Just call the ring,” John said gruffly.

“Here Ragey, Ragey, Ragey.” The kid whistled and clapped his hands again. The ring showing up on the kid’s other hand was expected, the glowing green hell hound that came sprinting through the wall and practically tackled the kid wasn’t. “Cujo! Hi! Who’s a good puppy?!”

Keeriest, John needed a stiffer drink.

[rizsu]

the "losing all my innocence in the backseat" lyric is so geto waitttttt 😩

sneaky link geto who's like that guy who haunts the narrative of your love life

⢷ pepsi will never thrive without coca cola. (he ain't shit) geto suguru ꘟ fem-reader.

+ love, ‘su: PAUSE THE CHAT 🗣! geto would def stalk ur very much directed tiktok reposts and reply to them with “u miss me huh” (no beta #writtenassoonasigotthisask)

s-link!suguru who just wanted some quick comfort. he didn't need a nagging girlfriend who'd bother him about his whereabouts, certain messages, or even the not-so-hidden circular bruise at the side of his neck, a little under his ear.

in his eyes, you were — no, you are the perfect match for him. you're everything he's ever needed. you used him the way he used you; one and done. no more, no less. both equally needing the sense of relief and relaxation without pushing for deeper meaning.

s-link!suguru who obeyed the “no kissing” rule. to him, kissing is intimate — it's pure. the intentions of a kiss (in his view) are always romantic and genuine, two things that he's long been stripped of. he also avoided eye contact during the moment. it made him feel vulnerable, like he was ready to give up the persona and bask in your love.

again, you never opposed. if that's what he wants then sure. it's not like you were hoping for anything deeper. ignoring the sting in your chest, you often buried your head in the junction of his neck to shoulder — sometimes biting on his skin to deter yourself away from tears. you don't love him; it's just in the moment. that's all.

unlike what s-link!suguru believes, his friends collectively agreed that he's slowly falling in love. why else would he be aggressively tapping through your instagram stories? why would he swipe to reply with “who the fuck is that” if he isn't your boyfriend?

a monkey who doesn't see his own tail won't recognize his own mistakes, a saying his friends often preach — much to suguru's dismay. he doesn't know where it came from nor why they use it, but he's heard it from time to time.

the men can be heartless, but they have no tolerance for suguru intentionally hurting someone as sweet as you. you've met them, they met you, and s-link!suguru's hand never stopped lingering on your body. “not her boyfriend,” he said.

s-link!suguru eventually acknowledges that he's falling — head first, too. this is against every rule he laid out at the beginning of... whatever you two had going on. so, he didn't hesitate to slowly go no-contact with you.

it was easy to say the least. muting your chat, silencing your calls, skipping your posts — too easy. almost as easy as the first time you let him through your barriers. but he hadn't anticipate your immediate move on. when you finally confirmed that he's beginning to ghost you, you moved on.

did you jump relationships? no, but you did post more revealing outfits and “clubbing” stories.

his bottom lip suffered tremendous damage once he saw what you've been doing. is he angry? upset? jealous that you're in a dress he specifically pointed out that it'd “look hot on you” during a walk together?

it didn't take long before nailsbytrish457 kept viewing your profile. they were within the first few viewers. at first you were weirded out by it — a random account keeping daily tabs on you? time to private your profile.

for some reason, you didn't bother to private. instead, you were set on blocking the account and the other accounts it's attached to. your following count went down by 2. odd, right? why would su_geto be blocked as well if you only blocked nailsbytrish457?

s-link!suguru who gave up the non-existent fight and called you. he didn't care — you were going to deal with him whether you had the energy to or not. minutes into the call, arguing about the fact that he shouldn't be bothered until you hear a car pull up in your driveway.

baffled, you'd say “you're not fucking serious.”

he'd only reply with “open the door.”

in between the cursing, yelling, middle fingers being thrown up every now and then, you found yourself straddling his lap, digging your nails into his neck. you want to injure him — badly — but your mind can't seem to stop replaying the flashbacks you desperately tried to turn into lost footage.

s-link!suguru who cracks a cocky smile knowing he got his way, per usual. it's always like that. you know it too, but you can't seem to do anything about it. at least, he's a call (and an argument) away if you need him.

you're familiar with the warning that your love life will crumble if you don't get him out of the picture permanently, but how can you if he's so consistent yet irregular in your life? he's there, he's not. he's with you for a week, he's ghosting you the next.

a push and pull game you're too tired to care for.

andddd thats it bc im out of ideas 🧍🏽‍♀️ idk how situationships go i've yet to experience real romance in my life BYE. i literally stole my friends' experiences n stories for this #inspo #shoutouttotheirls

[muletia]

obsessed!optimus x human!reader

guys, guys!! let me cook. we all know the famous robot-fucker june darby line 'and i wore heels and everything'. so!! what if you're in the base when she says it. at first, you’re like: haha, funny, june has a crush on optimus. there’s no way that kind of relationship could ever happen haha... ha.., but!!! the next time you see him, her words pop back into your mind, and you start watching him more closely, basically doing a role reversal. btw, 101% chance you’ll catch him staring at you at some point, so your eyes are definitely going to meet. you’re embarrassed, he’s surprised but also happy that you were checking each other out (he’ll definitely start getting delusional). the best part is, june was totally right, because optimus is hot, and you end up losing sleep over this whole situation, realizing that this alien, inside whom you’ve spent countless hours riding around, is attractive and would probably treat you better than most of the male population.

the next visit to the base will be a nightmare for you, because you literally can’t look him in the face without blushing and trying to keep your thoughts on track, as they’ve suddenly started to go in very inappropriate directions. poor optimus will have no idea what’s going on :(( he’ll blame himself. he must have done something wrong; otherwise, you wouldn’t be acting this way. did he make you uncomfortable when he looked at you? did he say something out of line? but when he tries to talk to you about it, you can barely meet his optics, and your face is even redder than usual because you’re just thinking about how nice his baritone is, how well he treats you, and that he’s just plain hot. basically, everything is a mess.

things will get awkward between you two, at least until it all gets cleared up, but ratchet is going to be so, SO tired of your bullshit 💀 he just had to deal with optimus’s weird fixation on you, and now you’re starting to return it??? he’d literally rather launch himself into orbit than watch you two fail to confess your feelings for each other for another few weeks/months.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 9

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8

Jeff calls her. It’s the first time they’ve spoken on the phone, and something flutters in her chest.

“How did you get this number?” she asks, finger twirling the coiled wire of the phone as she smiles down at her socked feet.

“There’s only one Cunningham in the phone book, Chrissy,” he replies, all dry wit—she can almost see the smirk on his face. “It’s not exactly rocket science.”

She laughs, shuffling around her kitchen, suddenly desperate to move, but she’s leashed to the wall by her phone’s cord, so it’s only about four steps each way until she’s bungee-corded back to the starting point.

“Smartass.”

Jeff laughs this time, quiet the way he always is, but her chest feels like a supernova’s exploding in it. “But that’s not why I called.”

Chrissy’s smile fixes to her face before drooping down into her shoes with her gut. “What’s wrong?” she asks, now standing statuesque in her kitchen, cold tiles leaching all the warmth from her feet even through her thick socks.

“Nothing,” Jeff sighs, and there’s a crackling sound, like he’s rubbing his face in exhaustion. “Just—Steve drove me home.”

“Is he okay?” she asks, clenching the phone hard enough in her hand that the cheap plastic creaks.

“I think so?” Jeff replies, sounding unsure. “He just seems sad, man.”

Steve and Jeff don’t spend a lot of time together, but he’s been around enough that she trusts his judgment.

Steve is sad.

Chrissy wants to sink down to the cold tile beneath her and never get up. Instead, she shuffles back over to the phone and swings herself up onto the countertop—what her mother doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Her heels clack against the cupboards noisily, broadcasting her restlessness even as the worry sinks straight through her.

“What about?” she asks, already knowing the answer.

“He thinks Eddie hates him.”

Chrissy sucks in a breath and lets it shudder out before biting her lip against the next logical question. “Does he?”

“He thinks he does,” Jeff replies promptly. “But he definitely doesn’t.”

Chrissy hums, too lost in her own head to think of a reply. It doesn’t matter what Eddie feels if the effect is the same: a sad Steve Harrington.

“I don’t think you guys should do this anymore,” Jeff says, snapping her out of her spiral.

“I know,” she groans, shoulders slumping. “But Steve’s hellbent on keeping it up.”

He sighs again, muttering, “boys,” with such a defeated air that she can’t help but laugh again.

“You just keep an eye on yours, and I’ll do the same for mine,” she says, smile audible in her voice. “Deal?”

“I feel like yours is a bit easier to wrangle than mine,” Jeff scoffs, a twinge of bitterness leaking into his tone.

And he’s right; Eddie still hasn’t even told Jeff about the letters he’s been getting, much less asked his opinion on them. Steve, at least, keeps her appraised of his next moves, shares his feelings, and asks for her help even if he won’t always take her advice.

So, when Steve’s acting weird when she sees him the next morning—all shifty-eyed and nervous—she doesn’t ask. He’ll tell her when he’s ready. Besides, the hallway’s too crowded, and she’s got a sneaking suspicion that it has something to do with her and Jeff’s conversation last night.

She’s proved right when they hit the library at lunch instead of the cafeteria, and Steve barely waits until they’re settled in their usual table, feet interlaced.

“He hates me,” Steve whispers.

“He doesn’t hate you.”

Steve pouts across at her, bottom lip stuck out like a puppy dog as he accuses, “you’ve been talking to Jeff.”

Chrissy bites her lip. “I always talk to Jeff.”

He rolls his eyes, but it seems to lift his spirits. “Did you ask him out yet?”

“Shut up.” She kicks him beneath the table until he laughs.

Without further preamble, he pulls a piece of paper from his bag and pushes it across to her. She expects the latest note from Eddie, having yet to read the last one, but it’s not—it’s a letter from Steve, clearly responding to something she’s yet to see.

“Did you pick up the letter yourself?” she asks, panic sinking through her. He could get caught, and then all their subterfuge will be for nothing. She might lose her best friend. 

“Yeah,” Steve mutters, so shyly that she can’t bear to chastise him further. “What do you think?”

She reads it again, trying to look past the panic to the words in front of her. “It’s good,” she says, and it is. “Do you want to send it like this?”

His handwriting is barely legible, even to her with her weeks of practice, and there’s a few misspellings, but she’ll do whatever he wants, forever and always. But he shakes his head, and asks, “Will you edit it?”

“Can I see the one you’re responding to?” she asks.

He pulls it out of his bag and pushes it across the table without a complaint. She picks it up and begins to read.

         Secret Admirer,

         There was a little hiccup with my guitar and plugging her in, but otherwise it went great! All four of the drunks at the Hideout clapped politely when we were done, and not even one of them booed us off stage!

         The riff is still getting on my last nerve, darling, you have no idea. I wish I could hear you play, I bet you’d inspire me so much, a stroke of genius would strike me and I’d know exactly what I’m missing.

         (I don’t know how to ride a bike. My dad was never around to teach me, and by the time I moved in with Uncle Wayne, I was too old to learn.)

         Darling, did you dream of me? Was it a naughty dream?

         Yours,

         Eddie

P.S. The Lord of the Rings is the name of the whole trilogy, so I hope you find it in The Fellowship. Can’t believe you don’t even know Tolkein. It’s okay, baby, I like you anyway. 

She smiles when she’s done, kicking him beneath the table as she asks, “Does this sound like someone who hates you?”

If anything, Steve just gets droopier. “It’s for you,” he mumbles, and she doesn’t have anything to say.

Chrissy squeezes his foot tighter between her own in a pantomime of a hug.

Even with his newfound pessimism, he carefully rereads her edited words once she’s done. He smiles down at it, clearly cheered by the act of writing to Eddie.

“It looks great, Chris,” he says genuinely, as if she’d done more than correct his spelling and rewrite his letter word for word.

“Thanks,” she replies, smiling across at him, relieved his spirits have risen. “Now, let’s drop this in his locker so he doesn’t have to wait too long to read your lovely letter.”

Steve’s ears turn red with embarrassment, but he dutifully wraps his arm around her waist and leads her out of the library.

Jason’s loitering outside of it, leaning against the wall like it’s a coincidence he’s here at all, but the way his eyes glare at the point where they’re in contact makes a liar out of him.

Steve seems to agree because he pulls her closer and asks, “problem, Carver?” in his snootiest King Steve voice.

Jason holds his hands up, smiling like this is all a coincidence, but he seems to have forgotten that Chrissy knows him, maybe better than anyone. She sees the way his arms are flexing, the way he’s baring his canines more than smiling, and it makes her feel on edge.

“No problem, man,” he replies, untold violence behind every word.

“Let’s just go,” she whispers to Steve.

She’s relieved when he nods, not sparing Jason another look as they take the most direct route to Eddie’s locker. He doesn’t respond until they’re well out of Jason’s hearing range. “That guy’s starting to really freak me out,” he says, talking quietly still, even after putting all this distance between them.

Chrissy sighs. The thing is, she still misses Jason, but the Jason she misses is at least a year dead and gone. Now, all that’s left of him is someone who wants to own her.

“Me, too.”

*** 

There’s something different about the letter he finds in his locker this time.

  Eddie —

  You were the best damn thing those drunks have ever seen, hands down. No, before you ask, I wasn’t there. But when I had that letter under my pillow, I dreamed a little dream (not naughty, I know you’re disappointed, sorry). I don’t remember the songs, but I remember the way you looked for me in the crowd and smiled. All the dream people gave you a standing ovation, me loudest of all.

  You’re never too old to learn to ride a bike. My dad didn’t teach me either, but a friend did. Maybe someday, I could be that friend for you, and when I tell you I won’t let go, you can rest easy knowing I’m not lying.

  Sincerely,

  Your Secret Admirer

  P.S. I know it’s still winter, but I’ll meet you in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

The handwriting is just the same, and it’s as sweet as always, but still. There’s—something Eddie can’t quite put his finger on no matter how many times he rereads the letter. Maybe he should have paid more attention in English class instead of always working on his next campaign.

He watches Chrissy when she’s not paying attention, trying to figure out what’s changed, but Harrington always catches him and stares him down like a dog marking his territory.

It leaves him flushed, desperately trying to focus on whatever he’s supposed to be doing. By the time he looks up, Harrington’s always moved onto something else.

Maybe it’s just because they know each other now, spend time with each other, are even becoming friends? Eddie doesn’t mind, as long as the letters keep coming. He might even like this letter best of all. It feels more honest, real somehow, like he’s peeling back the layers of bullshit obfuscation to get to the truth of who she is.

He hopes it lasts.

It’s hard to write his own letter back, to meet that same level of transparency to someone who, despite now having a name and face, still feels like a nebulous being. A nebulous being whose favorite color he knows, who’s insecurities feel like they’re his own, whose words he’s stroked on the page late at night while unable to sleep.

He tries to pour that same energy back into his letter.

  Secret Admirer,

  I wish I could dream about you, too. I want to know your face well enough to hold it in my mind, even unconscious. I want to lay my head on my pillow tonight and know that you’ll be waiting for me in dreamland, ready to be the best groupie a guy could ask for.

  The truth is, no one’s loved me before. No one’s liked me, or kissed me, or held my hand during a scary movie. And, that’s scarier than any movie could ever be. Because, you’re it, baby. The one and only, and all that shit.

  I’ve got friends, and that’s enough for me! It really is! But a part of me just wants to hold someone’s hand—your hand. Maybe we can someday. Maybe we can do all the things we’ve talked about: go to a drive-in, play music together, learn to ride a bike. But even if we never do, I’m grateful for every one of these letters. Being wanted is new to me, and I’m not ready to give it up.

  Yours, always,

  Eddie

He steps into the Shakespeare section once more and slips the note into A Midsummer Night’s Dream and promptly tries his best to forget about it. It doesn’t work.

He wants a response immediately, dreads waiting the typical days it takes for a letter to appear in his locker, so no one can blame him for panicking.

“Do you want to come to a Corroded Coffin practice?” Eddie blurts after the latest Hellfire session.

Chrissy’s brow’s all furrowed up as she asks, “Corroded Coffin?”

Eddie’s surprised she doesn’t already know. He’s mentioned it at least once in one of his letters; does she not spend her nights pouring over the words like he does? Does she not have every dotted i and crossed t seared into her retinas?

His intestines wriggle around in his body, fingers itching to tear his letter into tiny little pieces before she reads his desperate, yearning words.

“My band,” Eddie replies, his response overlapping eerily with Harrington’s, “his band.”

Chrissy smirks between them but Eddie barely notices, too caught up in staring at Harrington. “How do you know that?” he demands.

Harrington’s shoulders curl, like Eddie’s the threat here as he mutters his response barely loud enough to hear over the sounds of the other Hellfire members packing up, “uh, the middle school talent show?”

Eddie’s lip quirks up as Harrington looks up from his own shoes and meets Eddie’s eyes. “You remember that?”

Harrington snorts. “Hard to forget, dude.”

Harrington’s smiling—he’s never noticed before but it’s a little off center, just enough to be endearing. Eddie smiles back helplessly, taking a step forward as he asks, “the king remembers little old me?”

He gets a laugh this time, Harrington’s eyes almost crinkling shut with his amusement. He’s got a nice laugh. Eddie’s never noticed before, hasn’t heard anything from him that wasn’t at least a little snide.

Eddie opens his mouth, desperate to elicit that noise again, when Chrissy pointedly clears her throat and reality comes rushing back in—what was that? He snaps his gaze back to her, shuffling his feet, feeling absurdly guilty. For what? Being nice to her boyfriend?

“When is it?” she asks.

It takes him a minute to remember what they were talking about. “Oh!” he exclaims, taking a step back when he realizes how close he’s gotten. “Uh, tomorrow night in Gareth’s garage.”

Chrissy’s smiling, but there’s something sly about it, Eddie knows, watching the flashing of her eyes, that Chrissy Cunningham knows what evil is and has the capacity to perform it. So much for his pet theory that she’s actually a golden retriever stuffed into a human girl’s body.

“Can Steve come?” When Eddie frowns, shifting his eyes to a red-eared Harrington standing stock-still beside her, she continues, “it’s just, Jason’s been a little intense lately?”

Carver’s name seems to bring Harrington back to life. He damn-near growls as he wraps his arm around Chrissy’s waist. “The word you’re looking for is stalkery.”

She snorts, “not a word, but yeah.”

Now that they mention it, Carver has seemed to be within arm’s reach of Chrissy for a while now, loitering on her fringes with his arms crossed like he’s staking his claim, even all these months after they broke up.

“Sure,” Eddie replies, and he means it. Harrington can come if it keeps Eddie from ending up on the wrong side of Carver’s fists. “Harrington can come.”

Harrington’s ears flush again, and he mutters an awkward, “thank you,” before leading Chrissy out of the drama room.

Once they’ve cleared out, Gareth sighs, long and loud as he says, “band practice is going to be so awkward.”

Eddie glares at him, having forgotten entirely about his audience while talking to Harrington and Chrissy. “Oh, it won’t be so bad.”

“Yeah, right,” Doug snorts, shouldering his bag and heading toward the door.

“Oh, ye of little faith!” he replies as all three of them head out the door, Jeff having inexplicably already left despite Eddie being his usual ride home on Hellfire days. “It’ll be fine!”

Before he drives the guys home, he doubles back to the library to try and steal back his note, but it’s too late: the doors are locked and by the morning, the note’s sure to be gone.

They’re right; band practice is awkward, and it’s not even Eddie’s fault. It’s not even Harrington’s fault. It’s Jeff’s.

“You look nice today,” Jeff says, looking directly at Chrissy, who blushes.

He’s right, she does look nice in a cute pink cardigan and some light-wash jeans that fit her well. It’s not Eddie’s style, but it suits her. But Jeff doesn’t have to say it while her boyfriend is standing right there.

“Thanks,” she says, smiling at Jeff.

Harrington just keeps standing there while Jeff does what can only be described as flirting, with his girlfriend. Everyone else carries on like this is normal, but Gareth’s sending him crazy-eyed looks proving that Eddie’s not the only sane one.

Doug’s too busy practicing his riffs, sure, and Jeff’s clearly gone off the deep end, but Harrington? What’s his excuse?

When he’d been dating Wheeler, he’d been all over her at all times, monopolizing her time whenever possible. And sure, Chrissy and Harrington are always together, but there’s never more than an arm around her waist or sitting close together. He’s never even seen them kiss.

And now here he is, letting Jeff flirt with his girlfriend right in front of him.

Eddie just doesn’t get it.

Corroded Coffin’s a fucking mess, Gareth keeping a beat only he can hear, Eddie missing every other note, and Jeff too busy looking at Chrissy to keep tempo. Only Doug is on his game, clearly getting more and more fed up with each new fuck-up.

Chrissy stays by Jeff’s side, whispering with him between songs while Harrington flops down on the couch and watches them play like it’s his own, personal concert.

Eddie can’t take his eyes off Steve. He wants to peel the guy like an onion, figure out what makes him tick, what makes him smile, why the hell he’s here in Gareth’s smelly garage watching his girlfriend make eyes at Jeff while she writes love letters to Eddie in her free time.

He wants to know.

He just—

Wants.

*** 

Steve’s words have been echoing around her brain for days—have you asked him out yet? It’s ridiculous, but before he’d said those words, she’d never even considered it as an option. Boys ask girls out, that’s how it works. But if Steve can like a boy, she can ask out Jeff.

That doesn’t make it any less scary though. She sits on the revelation for a few days more, watching Jeff out of the corner of her eye, flirting back after he instigates. But that’s the problem, isn’t it? It’s still him instigating.

“I’m going to ask him out,” she tells Steve, not looking at him as they walk into the school together, too afraid of what she’ll see.

“Yeah?” he asks, bumping their shoulders together. “When?”

When she glances his way, he’s grinning ear to ear. She huffs, “I don’t know, soon?” Looking away so she doesn’t have to see that sly look on his face. “It’s just so scary.”

“I know, Chris,” he says, bumping into her again and again just to annoy her. “But you’re the strongest person I know.”

She doesn’t feel strong—she feels like a breeze might swipe her feet out from under her, but Steve believes in her. Steve thinks she’s strong, and she told him she’d ask Jeff out, so she will.

So, when Jeff next slides into her passenger seat, she starts the car and drives away without saying a word.

This has become something of a habit lately—if there’s no Hellfire, she drives Jeff home. Usually they talk, or turn on music they both like and sing along. The quiet has his feet tapping and fingers picking at the seam of his jeans. He grows more restless with each minute that passes.

“Chrissy?” he asks finally, a shyness to his voice that she’s not used to hearing. From the first time they’d spoken, he’s been confident—quiet, yeah, but assured. “Are you okay?”

Unable to take the waver of his voice sitting down, Chrissy veers off the side of the road, holding her arm out to keep Jeff from smacking into the dash at the abrupt change in momentum. She puts the thing in park, takes off her seatbelt, and turns in her seat to face Jeff head-on.

His eyes are wide, clearly freaked out by her erratic behavior, but he still unlatches his own seatbelt and mimics her position, awkwardly pulling his feet beneath him when it becomes clear his legs are too long to fit.

She’s helplessly charmed; it may just be Steve and Eddie’s letters rubbing off on her, but she wants to reach out and take his hand. So she does.

His fingers jerk in hers, pulling back a little like it’s instinct before he drops his hand on the console separating them and lets her link their fingers together. Even with the heater on, the interior of her car’s cold enough that his skin scalds against hers, sending a shudder through her.

“Is this the part where you murder me?” he asks, squeezing her hand. “Because if so, let me know.”

“So you can run away?” she asks, grateful for the moment of levity.

“No, because I’m a gentleman,” he replies, winking at her, “and I can help dig the grave, save you some work.”

Chrissy laughs, once again captivated by him. He’s a nerd, how is he so gosh darn charming? Her cheeks hurt, her heart hurts, her whole body is tingling with the anticipation of what she’s about to do.

“Chrissy—“

“Will you go out with me?” she asks, slapping her hand over her mouth when she realizes she interrupted him. She closes her eyes, entirely mortified. “Shoot, sorry!”

His hand spasms in hers before he tightens his hold. “You’re…” he starts, hand shaking in hers. She opens her eyes, horrible visions of him crying dancing behind her lids, but he’s laughing, whole body moving with the effort of suppressing it. “You’re apologizing for the best moment of my life?”

She laughs, too, helpless not to. “Is that a yes, or are you just laughing at me?”

He hums, tilting his head closer to hers, chuckles finally fading away as he replies, “can it be both?”

“Always.”

Chrissy bounces a little in her seat, vibrating with pent-up excitement. Maybe sometimes the girl can get the guy instead of the other way around.

He hums again, low down in his throat, and their gazes lock. The energy in her car is so electric her skin is buzzing with it. She wants to reach across the distance between them and steal a kiss. But girls don’t do that sort of thing. Girls aren’t supposed to—

She leans across the console separating them and kisses him, and kisses him, and kisses him. Jeff gasps into it, like he’s the one being electrocuted now, and suddenly his hand is out of hers, but that’s okay because it’s on her face now, drawing her closer, closer, closer, as he sucks on her bottom lip until she gasps.

She might have stayed in that position forever, craning her body uncomfortably forward like a sunflower toward the light, if she hadn’t shifted a little too far to the left into her car’s horn with a bony hip.

As it blares, they both jump apart, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, looking around for a threat that will never come.

“Oops,” she whispers, settling back into her seat, back protesting at the change of angle.

Jeff laughs, head thrown back, long throat on full display. She wants to bite it, but the moment’s long since broken, so she puts her seatbelt on and shifts back onto the road, cheeks flaming, heart warm.

“Does this mean you’re going to give me your letterman jacket?” he asks once he’s finally stopped laughing. “I’m not familiar with jocks courting rituals.”

Chrissy’s responding laugh isn’t her usual cultivated giggle—it’s a bark that makes Jeff grin at her. “Oh my goodness, can you even imagine the looks we’d get?”

“Or that Steve would.” Jeff replies. “But you’ve gotta admit, I’d look good in his jacket.”

She almost wants to do it for the drama, Eddie’s presence rubbing off on her surely, but it’s not quite worth doubling the lynch mobs that will already be after all of them.

“You realize this is only making this whole situation even messier, don’t you?” she asks, eyes on the road.

“Yeah,” Jeff sighs, but his fingers reach across the car and settle atop her hand where it’s clasping the stick shift. “But worth it, right?”

She’s been smiling so much that her cheeks hurt, but at that, she damn-near beams ear to ear. “Yeah, baby,” she says, heat pooling low in her stomach when Jeff lets out a soft little gasp. “You’re worth it.”

[hyukakisses]

— emo soobin as leviathan from obey me!

pairings: emo soobin x fem reader

plot: random soobin as leviathan from obey headcanons

warnings: perv soobin, loser soobin, red flag soobin, virgin soobin and virgin reader, cursing, faint smut, tsundere-to-yandere soobin, strangers to lovers troupe, bratty sun reader, service top soobin

soobin was absolutely seething in anger when he found out lord diavolo was responsible for the human exchange student committee. the emo demon boy hated humans or normies as he likes to call them.

soobin just didn’t understand the hype behind humans. the indigo-colored haired male thought they were disgusting. worse than angels, another type of creature he hated.

the tall boy kinda hoped that one of the humans that was apart of the human exchange committee would at least be a pretty girl; soobin longed for a player two :( he felt so lonely watching his brothers all have their girlfriends and all he had was his pet odi. his only friend.

when soobin was told that he needed to show you around RAD, he was not happy.. i mean why him out of all people? soobin was not known to socialize or be friendly.

with a whiny grumble soobin drags his long legs out of the comfort of his room; already annoyed for the day. he just hoped this tour would be over quickly.

soobin would be lying if he said you were ugly, the boy was mesmerized with how you nodded with a pretty smile at his detailed explanations about his favorite girl group kara and his favorite anime character ruri-chan when he should have been going on about the history of the devildom.

“is your hair naturally like that?” your delicate fingers point to soobins head, the emo boy smiled at how you didn’t reach to grab it without asking. “yeah it is” “oh that’s cool! back in the human realm everyone is either born with blonde or brunette. you have really pretty hair” you blush feeling butterflies in your stomach.

“so do you have any more questions?” soobin looked at you, hoping you didn’t. “actually i was wondering maybe when i’m settle in my room we could hang out?” your voice was soft like honey, soobin paused in his tracks. “what? i think you’re getting me confused with yeonjun. what do you mean you want to hang out with me?”

from that day on, soobin had to pinch himself around you, afraid that a pretty human girl like you hanging out with him was some type of dream.

soobin hated how easily and quickly it was to lose his aloof and tsundere act around you, he hated how quickly he was able to gain romantic feelings for you.

soobin liked how you invited yourself over to his room, most people would find his otaku activities weird and boring but you found them fun. you didn’t mind being locked away in soobin’s bedroom, snuggled up in his bedsheets watching bunny girl senpai over and over again.

“why have you been avoiding me?” after not seeing soobin for nearly a week you decided to march up in his room demanding an answer. “i-i haven’t..” “yes.. yes you have! you’ve been ignoring my texts and just been on league of legends all week!” you screech making soobin curse internally, the boy has been ignoring you. “i thought things were going so well!” you sat on the tall boy’s bed itching closer to his laying body. “they have been” soobin felt his heart thump at how close you were approaching. “so why are you avoiding me?” your chin rests on soobin’s chest. “do you not think i’m pretty enough for your time and attention anymore? is there someone else?” soobin couldn’t stop staring at your pink lips wondering what your lip gloss tasted like. “binnie? hello? are you even listening-“ you let out a yelp in surprise at your friend shutting you up with a kiss. your body melting against soobin’s, you pout pulling away. “you know, if you wanted to be my boyfriend you could have just said so”

soobin wasn’t big with words, he preferred just listening to you talk your ear off. nodding dumbly at your words with sparkling eyes wondering if you’d be that talkative if he was eating you out- “binnie? you’re still listening to me right?” “hmm? oh yeah you’re talking about wanting to go blonde together”

you also didn’t mind being his personal guinea pig when it came to cosplay. you really enjoyed all the special attention and praises you got for staying still without complaining.

soobin also liked how you’d actually listened to kara with and for him, your favorite song being honey and his favorite song being secretly secretly

the two of you rarely argued unless it was over something stupid like who was better tommy february 6 or tommy heavenly 6? you both couldn’t choose however.

soobin was definitely a service top, as soon as you both got together you were always demanding soobin to your whim. not that your now boyfriend minded. he liked how you were always bratty and bossy. “binnie can we match? i know its pink but it’s pretty” “tie my shoes mister!” “do you mind applying my lipgloss for me?” “princess orders binnie!”

“baby please?” soobin’s large hands loop under your inner thighs, his eyes looking up at you pleadingly as his glossy lips itch closer to your pretty pussy. “m’ sleepy binnie..” a small whine slips your lips, feeling yourself drift to sleep. “you don’t have to do anything baby! just p-please let me a small taste? please?” soobin begs pathetic making you huff. “fine”

a/n: ugh i love soobin

[bitchslapblastoids]

Prompted by your post about dnp inviting audience interaction: it /is/ really brave, and so interesting! I haven't been watching them for long at all and one of the biggest things that just drew me in and deeply fascinated me about them is how so much of their work (not just on stage) is in some way a conversation/interaction with their audience and the more you watch the more you notice it. No wonder its easy to be parasocial about them and about the Phandom itself!

To me, at least, they seem to be the sort of performers/creators that need a relatively high level of audience interaction in order to be inspired or for their work to feel meaningful. Like, im absolutely sure they could also create things without this close relationship with their audience but it seems to be what their naturally drawn towards? Obviously the problem has been in maintaining boundaries within that but it seems like that's going better now than at some points in the past, which makes me really happy for everyone!

Sorry about the long yap, this is so interesting to me and I just needed to express it a little

yes!!! i love this!!! so beautifully worded! no need to apologize at all - i am in such hearty agreement and actually think about this so often. i think the engagement with their audience is their superpower, and it runs so deep. what was one of dan's favorite things about phil before he met him? phil's interactive adventure videos, in which he was creating an interactive experience for his viewers.

when they film pinof1 together, what are they doing? they're answering an audience-submitted q&a. the audience interaction is literally baked into their foundation! <3

2010, dan's uni dorm. what's displayed behind him on his wall? art and letters sent to him by viewers. he films danmail vids where he opens and reacts to said art and letters and personally thanks the senders.

for years and years and years, what's at the end of every phil video? fanart! draw phil naked! (in retrospect literally so weird lol but shhh)

the ongoing avalanche of vyous and younows and tumblr reblogs/follows and responding to yt comments and retweets and and and. so much interaction. the videos directly engaging with twitter and tumblr creations. they see us, they know us, they get us.

their first book? included a double-page spread with dozens of pieces of phanart.

every single one of their tours has multiple essential audience interaction components, and even more brilliantly, with multiple different access points that are perfectly calibrated to their audience. too shy to speak up? send in a submission ahead of time. want to be a part of the masses? shout something out during the audience participation segments! and there's always the likelihood that they'll include fanart in the show itself, casually mention an actual actively popular fic, throw in an ancient phwedding manip, or just build whole segments of the show around our tropes and the world that we created with them. all of that keeps things exciting and engaging on stage, bc you never know exactly what's going to come next. but it also keeps their audience feeling seen, valued, and like co-creators in a way.

When you look at the other britcrew and big yters from the 2010s, they simply weren't generating that ongoing, authentic conversation with their audiences. their approach followed the simple format of: i post, you watch. and then it became: i post, you watch, then i try and sell you something while i call you my 'community' because you are all watching me and sometimes you talk to one another in the comments. but it's not like zalfie or joe and casper etc. were chiming in on the convos too, or at least not in any meaningful way. it wasn't a community in the same way.

dan and phil truly built community. i think communities require mutual exchange, communication, a sense of value and worth, commonly agreed upon truths, shared experiences, touchstones of connection, and leaders who have integrity. i know this is all starting to sound a little lofty, but i really do think dan and phil are good humans who have worked hard to wield their power and influence responsibly and compassionately. they set the tone for us, constructed this world, paid attention to what landed for us, how we responded to things, everything that we were up to in response to what they were up to. they listened. they made us feel seen and celebrated and appreciated, and in turn we continued to celebrate them. they created weird inside jokes, we adopted them, then we all shared the weird inside jokes. they existed, we created our own language and lore and encyclopedia in response, and now there's a whole stage show about it.

that's how you get people sticking around for 15 years. that's how you get people to actually want to spend money on you. and yeah, some more boundaries at times couldn't have hurt. they fostered a sense of proximity and entitlement that obviously put them in harm's way. but i'd say ultimately what they've manage to do has been a net good for them and a tremendous success.

you raised such a good point that it seems to be what they are naturally drawn towards. i think it's because they, too, were fangirls. phil was writing buffy fic. dan was running a lost wiki. they both understood the power of online fan community before they were the titans of their own. they get it, they get us <3

[yamisnuffles]

DATV Spoiler Free Review

I beat Veilguard a couple days ago and have had some time to let it settle in my brain. So, without getting into the nitty gritty and more spoilery things, here are my overall feelings on the game.

The Great:

The world itself. The scenery. It was really gorgeous and felt fully alive in a way that none of the previous games have quite managed. Since it wasn't as open world as DAI nor as narrow in scope as DA2 (nor as old as DAO lol), it felt more vital. Definitely a place where the advances in graphics helped, I'm sure.

The Good:

The companions. I wouldn't say any of them blew me away but they all at least ranged from enjoyable to very good. I definitely had my quibbles here and there but I think they were all pretty solid. As such, though I've only done one romance, I'll suppose they're all good. A bit... sparse in my experience and from what I've been hearing, but nice enough.

Overall, I also think the story was pretty good. Like much in this game, nothing that blew me away, but solidly compelling.

Also, mechanically, the gameplay and the glamour system. It still doesn't feel like DA to me but it was enjoyable once I got used to it. It works well with how I play games. And it was nice to just set looks for myself and my companions and not worry about stats vs appearance.

Rook. I have some definite Complaints, and so this point is probably closer to the good to mid range, but they did a pretty good job with letting you pull in your faction stuff. I'm prevented from saying great because it feels like, even with what are supposed to be rougher dialogue choices, you're limited to being mildly pleasant.

The Mid:

The music. This is tragic to me because every previous game had some really standout songs and DAI especially was such a solid soundtrack. I love soundtrack music. Also because Hans Zimmer! I love Hans Zimmer. But the entire thing felt very generic epic fantasy to me. It wasn't bad but it didn't feel good. The only times I ended up moved by the music was when they lifted DAI songs.

The lack of imports. It wasn't the end of the world but did make some cameos feel really off. And for all the talk of making what few things were imported matter, that really didn't feel like the case at all (unless you were in a specific subset of players). I didn't care too much, but it was just enough to make things feel weird, especially with characters like Harding who are so attached to previous stuff.

The Bad:

The world felt so sanitized. I have no issue getting rid of real life bigotry that makes so sense in the context of the world. For example, the sexism in DAO especially made no sense. That said, there was a lot of in world nastiness that is just... gone. The game does a lot of telling us the elves have it bad but doesn't show it. No one bats an eye at a Tevinter mage running about outside of Tevinter. No one cares about a Qunari in occupied Treviso. I suppose it's not the worst thing in the world but it feels weird, especially when it's so central to Solas' motivations.

This sanitization carried on through pretty much everything. All of the factions are presented as good and heroic, even the ones that are historically pretty shady. Your companions are all pleasant and palatable. They have the occasional minor squabble but even when they almost have actual beef, it's solved super easily. You might get some disapproval for decisions but companions never seem to much care or hold it against you, even on really big things. I don't need DA2 levels of interparty drama but, boy did I want a bit more tooth sometimes.

The Awful:

I can't get into it without spoilers but it did a Thing that Bioware sometimes likes to do that I absolutely loathe. This is definitely personal but it ruined some of my desire to replay.

Overall:

I'd give the game a 7/10 or maybe 6/10, depending on how I'm feeling. It was enjoyable for the most part but it had so many things that felt like splinters. Lots of little things that stuck under my skin and bothered me. Would I recommend it? Genuinely depends on the person.

[angelbarelywrites]

♡ slashers scenarios | may i have this dance?

♡ fandoms; Halloween, Texas Chainsaw Massacre (original + 2006), House of Wax, The Boy, Dead by Daylight, slashers (general)

♡ characters; Micheal Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Bubba Sawyer, Vincent Sinclair, Brahms Heelshire

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡cw; none really!!

♡notes; this popped into my brain the other day and i thought we were due for some fluff. i’m writing part two congruently so that’ll be posted soon too!!

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Micheal Myers

> Micheal Myers does not dance

> He doesn’t know how, and he doesn’t want to learn

> But like with a lot of things, you get him to bend his rules

> He has a habit of looming in doorways to watch you

> At first it’s disconcerting, but you learn it’s just how he is

> So you pay him no mind as he’s watching you dance around the kitchen to some song that’s too popular for him to know

> Sweet and silly and carefree…

> He clicks the speaker off with a quiet huff

> “Hey, I was listening to that-“ You pout

> He rolls his eyes and puts on something a bit more to his taste

> And before you can playfully complain any more, he wraps his arms around you from behind and sways softly

> It takes a second for you to process it- he’s not normally so…gentle

> But in his own weird little way, he’s dancing with you

> He tenses a bit when you turn around- he’s embarrassed but would never admit it- but when you kiss his cheek he relaxes and gives a quiet hum

>And he keeps swaying as you lay your head on his chest

>Just for you, as long as you don’t tell anyone…Micheal Myers does dance. Just a little.

Thomas Hewitt

> Thomas doesn’t think about dancing

> He’s seen it on TV, read about it in books…but the Hewitts aren’t really the dancing types

> Nearest thing to dancing that he can think of ever doing is being held by his mama, when she’d sing and rock him when he was hurt or upset

> And it’s been a long time since anyone could hold him like that

> But one day you’re upset- he doesn’t know why but you burst into tears the moment he walked in, and it has him in a tizzy

> He quickly scoops you up, checking for any injuries but…nothing. You’re just crying and he hates seeing you like that

> So he does what used to make him feel better

> He can’t sing- or at least won’t, his words are always few and far between- but he hums, low and rumbling in his chest

> As he holds you and slowly sways you start to calm down

> You sniffle and all of the sudden giggle

> “Thomas Hewitt; are you dancin’ with me right now?”

> He looks confused but slowly nods as he thinks about it

> “Well thank you. I needed this.”

> He nuzzles you and continues until you’re calm- and far after that if you’ll let him

Bubba Sawyer

> As we know, Bubba is a very sheltered fellow, but he does like dancing!

> He’s not particularly coordinated but he doesn’t need much coaxing to twirl you around and around

> He’ll dance without music, humming a nonsense tune to you, maybe even whistling

> And if you sing to him he can’t help grinning and giggling

> It’s not uncommon for him to sway and spin with you in the living room if the radio got left on

> And he gets shy when you’re caught by one of his brothers

> “Bubba you stop wasting time, you little—“

> You cock your hip and give Drayton a cold look

> “Oh, I’m a waste of time now, cook?”

> Like always a smart remark goes a long way with Drayton, the twins immediately “oooh”ing and teasing him as he flusters

> Soon enough he’s chasing them out cursing and wielding a pair of tongs

> Leaving you and Bubba forgotten and free to sneak off and continue your fun in peace

Vincent Sinclair

> You’d have to ask

> Probably more than once, honestly

> Vincent is an artistic man, that’s not a doubt in the slightest- but he’s not even a little interested in anything that involves performance

> But you have a way of getting your way with him

> “Vince baby?”

> “…”

> “Pretty please?”

> “…”

> “If we take pictures then you can paint us.”

> He perks up a bit and you know you’ve got him

> “Cmon silly!” You drag him into the house of Wax, camcorder in hand

> Having gotten that far, you finally realize you don’t particularly know how to dance either, not really

> But you don’t tell him that, instead turning on the music and pulling him against you

> You’re clumsy and awkward and adorable as you spin around with him, not even a bit embarrassed

> He isn’t sure the reference stills are usable, but he’s more than happy the sweet moment on camera

Brahms Heelshire

> Brahms treats you like royalty- whatever you want is yours

> So if you say you’d like to go dancing, he is more than happy to arrange something

> Though of course, he doesn’t like leaving home… no matter. There’s plenty of room in the manor

> He makes a date out of it- he’s prone to making dates out of lots of silly things

> Silly or not, it’s sweet, and as always you fawn over him and praise him for the thoughtfulness

> He even bought you a cute outfit for the occasion - he loves dolling you up (pun slightly intended)

> After setting the music he bows and offers his hand- being a rich brat he knows a bit of ballroom dancing

> He’s more than happy to teach you, humming “1-2-3” with your steps

> But he’s laughing and giggling and just can’t stop gushing over how cute you are

> So if you fall into slow dancing like it’s the prom, he doesn’t mind

> Any dance with you is more than he can ask for

[clubsmarties]

"If you tell her that she will put you up on her favorites list." He had no doubt that Emma would adore Laurel even without the compliments. Though as he thought about Emma, his smile grew. That little girl was one of his favorite people in the world. "Alright but if these stories are not embarrassing then what happens?"

"Three things? You're already more of a master chef than I am. What are your three specialities?" He presumed being at her father's kitchen would have him meet the parental figure which should have terrified Eli but instead gave him something to look forward to.

He hummed and shook his head. "Not upset but Texas wasn't supposed to be my stop. I got off the plane and was supposed to get to my connecting flight but this lady couldn't get her luggage up the stairs so I stopped to help her and that took a bit too long so ended up staying here. Aside from that I didn't have enough money to get another flight. What I did have was enough to feed me and clothe me for at least two months. Until I got a job at the diner that me not fear for the next few months." Eli chuckled and watched her flutter her pretty eyes at him. "Exactly those pretty eyes." Nodding his answer he smiled. "Yes. Warm drink of choice is hot chocolate with marshmallows. Those are so good. I just don't like the watered down chocolate." Those usually lost the taste of the chocolate. "Believe it or not they've heard a lot more absurd questions. Does your brother share may just be the most normal."

He moved his fingers against her lips and smiled softly as he pulled up her chin to look up at him, at the weird angle he had to lower his head to press their lips together but well worth it as he took his time exploring her mouth. There was no rush in kissing her but it felt like he had been waiting ages to really take that journey around her mouth. To get inside every crevice he could. To feel her in his bloodstream. Pulling away slightly and breathing heavily he opened his eyes slowly and ran his digit over her cheeks. "We've shared haste kisses before so I needed to see how a slow make out looked like. We could continue with the questions, eat or....?" He slowly leaned against her nose and breathed evenly. Making out would not be the worst thing to pass the time.

"Ah, smart girl. She checks in on you, and she gets a bedtime story." Laurel loved listening to his stories about his siblings, just how much love and care went into his relationship with them. Frankly, she couldn't get enough of the stories, especially because she didn't have siblings. "I guess you'll have to wait to hear those stories, and you can be the judge of embarrassing or not."

She very well could've gotten lost in those shiny eyes, nodding along to his words. Laurel was not one to make promises, but she could promise to try. She wasn't too sure what it was about him, but there was something about him that invited her to try and be better. "Oh, neither do I. I know how to make three things, maybe. We'll send each other ideas, and as far as kitchen goes, we can borrow my house's. If we completely fail, I'm pretty sure my dad keeps a stash of pizza coupons."

"Were you upset about it before? Not shabby at all, I mean you'll also get a kickass education here, with it being a top school and all. Well, now I'm glad that I stuck around here, waiting for you to arrive. These pretty eyes?" she copied his move from earlier, fluttering her eyes at him. Being silly with him was so easy. "That'll be one of my first questions for them then, asking them for the stories. So, warm drink of choice is hot chocolate? Hm, I believe you, but also not sure how I can ask that without sounding like a total weirdo. Hey, does your brother share? But, good to know, no sharing here."

Laurel stood in front of him, feeling his gaze on her and she couldn't help but smile in complete wonder, curious to know what was on his mind. Did it look terrible? She thought it didn't look too bad. After all, sweats and hoodie looked fine on everyone. Right? Her laughter couldn't be helped as he took her hand, she was eager to squeeze in the space he opened up for her. "I'm sure the hoodie looks great on you, but I will be taking the compliment," she joked with a wide smile. leaning her head back to rest against him. She hummed in thought, "I'm sure we can think of some fun things to do," her fingers aimlessly playing with his hand. "Like I said earlier, I'm up for trying anything once." Her words got a bit softer, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand. This felt right.

[undercoverslutt]

[repost bc it looked weird before...]

my "first" post so pls take it easy on meee

oh u can call me phantom..hi babe.

sneakingoffwithhim! simon riley gets tricked into being edged lmfao

tags: [ur a oral slut] giving simon a sloppy blowjob (barely lol) more like edging his cock with your mouth and he just hassss to take it from his good girl. [you tell him what to do] [he’s your toy] [for your pleasure lowkey] getting lost on his cock [dumb for his cockk], tit fuck mention, spit kink !!!!!! pain kink maybe ( just thoughts off making ur ass hurt from spanking) fuck i love writing you like this, it’s like you’re my slut too. enjoyy ;)

okay so i was thinking of simon sitting in a foldable chair, somewhere in the base. an empty room that's echoey and gray, a greenish tint. the both of you just playing with his cock as almost a form of punishment. he has to be quiet, and you get to do whatever you want with him just bc!!!!

(idk how time works in an army base, let's just forget abt logistics)

maybe...you had rushed in here, away from the rest of the guys, you could feel simon's bulge rubbing up into you. you were sitting on his lap, softly grinding down into it on purpose. his hold on your bicep getting harder and harder, whispering for you to slow down or else he was going to fuck you in front of everyone. that low taunting thing he does with his voice, you wanted it, yes. and he thought that would make you stop. but no. it made you grind harder, especially knowing he was never the type to give up what's his. and def not in public. he knew better. and you did too. that was so disrespectful to say to ur girlfriend simonnn, how dare you…

oh yea…what happened earlier? how eager was your lieutenant to leave with you?

VERYY EAGERR WOOF WOOOF. you just sound so demanding, and sultry against his ear. his eyes lock on you when you stand up, and he knows he can't sit for long because his boys will see the filthy weight in his pants. you tricked him ofc.....

oh, he wanted to fuck you in front of everyone? he wasn't going to at all. so now here he was, both of u playing with his cock in an empty room, hearing the occasional footsteps pass by.

simon’s legs are spread so fucking widely in front of your kneeling form. your body right in between them, and your hands pushing against his knees. he's got his pants pushed down his hips just enough for his cock to be teased and gagged on, by you. just how you like.

his bottom lip is curling into his wet mouth, suckling softly at the skin. his mask was lifted above his mouth from when you kissed him moments ago, sucking his tongue into your mouth, and asking him to spit into it. he did it without a second guess. such a good boy he was being right now for you. his eyebrows furrow in concentration as he looks down at you.

you told him to be quiet, or else you weren't going to let him fuck your wet cunt like he wants to. that's all he can think about. so he's definitely shutting the fuck up. lmao.

one of his hands is on your face.

it’s honestly the most you let him touch you, at least on your head. you weren’t going to let him have his way not when you know he easily can if he wanted to.

your eyelashes brush against your eyebrows when you blink up at him, just precious. his cock completely disappeared into yourrrr mouth, you look so fucking needy too. wow you can really take it huh? ur spit is absolutely soaking the edges of his pants and boxers….maybe? yea.

your own hands have moved to his hips so he can't fuck into your mouth. you're in complete control of him, and his cock. fuck you loveeee simons cock. feeling it throb in your mouth, the heaviness of it on your tongue. you want that, don’t you? you love every inch of your man and never cease to worship it all...fucking slut. you lowkey wish he could be in your mouth every second of the day. fucking your face like he does to your pussy. whenever he gets the chance, he does!!! that made you happy didn't it? this hulk of a man, knows you're a depraved orally fixated slut when you haven't had his cock down your throat in a while. he’ll easily push you down onto your knees when y’all are alone, hike one foot up to rest on your shoulder, almost like he’s using u as a step stool. LOL. he’ll just fuck into your face and make you tear up, holding your hair in two bunches on either side of your head, completely using ur head like a fleshlight. you always look so happy when you see him unzipping his pants.

his eyes leave yours for a second, shutting almost furiously as he grunts out. shut up, simon. cmon be a good boy for ur girl. do you think he can do it?

ur a demon for wanting to drain him for all he's worth, you know? how could you fucking not be. he has such a pretty cock, it's rude, and angry. the tip drooling as you rub it against your swollen mouth. it’s almost like you’ve forgotten about him. and it’s just you and his cock in this room, alone. his moans don’t go unnoticed though.

"quiet, lieutenant.” you whisper a throaty chuckle, stuffing him back in your mouth like a greedy bitch in heat. and you are, aren’t you? reading this, wanting to throat simons cock so badly? tehe.

he was always so perfect and thick for you, and simon makes the prettiest sounds imaginable. so low, and guttural. but now his groans are echoing in that room, and you take his cock out. :((( simon, behave!! you giggle against him though, seeing his eyes shut again. he was pissed, in a way that you only know. frustrated and curious as to what you were going to do to him next.

simons bulky form twists in his chair, hunching over your head now, where it bobs in his lap again. you sound so disgusting underneath his form. gagging and throat fucking yourself for fun. his arms are up against his head, if anyone walked by, they would just think he’s catching a nap with his hands on his head. the window on the door is so tiny, a little square that barely anyone peaks through. he can degrade you all he wants, it just makes you sloppier on his cock. he’s whispering incoherently, and then coherently to you.

simon’s eyes narrow down your body, towards your ass, perched up like it’s ready to be taken. he wants to give your ass a punishment, wants you to whimper around his cock as he slaps your ass over and over and over again for being like this rn. simon wants you hurting for this.

you can feel the pressure of his chest against the back of your head. fuck, you loved feeling crowded by him. completely surrounded. he was so big and yours. you knew he was going to be all over you tonight. leaving his weight on you as he uses your body effortlessly. almost wrapping his entire body around you, so you have no other choice but to take it. fuck he was getting close, and his breathing immediately told you. you sink all the way down one more time, a twitch of his hips making you stop.

there you are letting go of his cock, again. you splutter around it a bit, a soft frown on your face as you take him out your mouth. this was your favorite thing in the whole world. such a slutty princess. and a little, the cutest choke/cough leaving your mouth. there was a long trail of spit connected to his tip and your mouth. he looked so cute and warn out, stiff and hard, and twitching against your hand. he listens to you moan as you gaze at it and grumbles, wanting to say something strongly at how stupiddd u looooked for his cock, but he knew his words would just make you laugh. he knows he would sound like a weak and depraved man, himself. you begin slurping at his tip, even though he was close. you just couldn’t help it. it just looked so perfect and heavy, and warm, and sticky and absolutely covered with your spit. you loved spit sm omg, especially when you can use it to work your boyfriend to his edge. and then not let him have it. what???? huh??? lol. you wanted the fun time to keep going, it’s no fun when it’s overrrr :((. you look up at him again, his eyes trained on you.

what he was going to do with you after all of this, though. fuck. this good boy act was all going to change in the next few minutes when he puts his arm around your throat, barely letting you have a moment to breath. he’s gonna bully his cock into you, relentlessly. fucking into you like you don’t mean a goddamn thing to him. but ur his world. i promise. he’s going to make sure everyone hears it too. whether it’s your moans, or the desperate sounds of your sloppy pussy getting filled to the fucking hilt, and taken over and over again. you’re just as wet as his cock is rn. you would be dripping on the floor if you didn’t still have ur cargos on.

you were going to leave a mess in this empty room regardless after this. he didn’t care if you told him to take it easy on you. you got what you wanted, and he’ll take what he wants just the same.

you were purposefully moaning and tightening your throat around him now, once your bottom lip reached the tops of his balls every time. simon wanted to put both of his hands on your head and use your throat as his personal fucking cum dump. oh, he will.

but not yet. this isn’t his fantasy, it’s urs. you take him out again, and kiss his length all the way up, and then move away from him.

he knew what you wanted as you stared up into his eyes. your mouth was a mess, and you knew he liked the view because he wouldn’t stare at anything fucking else. “mouth. open it.” it’s almost a command, but it ends with a whimper. so close simon, so close lol. he just wants to see your tongue, he wants you to drool on the floor as he fucks into his hand :(. i mean u were practically making a puddle underneath him, his balls dripping with your spit and pre-cum that continues to run down his length. he’s bouncing his knee, twitching to get off. you liked him needy. he was so stoic around everyone else. but for you, he gets so desperate so so so easily. especially with a mouth, and throat, and pussy, and tits as perfect and gorgeous as yours. fuck he wanted to ruin every part of you. now he’s thinking about your tits, and them squishing around his cock as you suck his tip so good. fuck. fuck. fuck.

you mumble a sound of disapproval. fuck, you’re so mean right now. and you’re so getting ruined later for it. one of his hands goes to his poor, weeping cock. his pace is slow, just how you like. his voice catches in his throat as he drags his wet hand up his spitty, precum coated shaft. the view causes you to clench your thighs, mouth drooling, so you spit on him again, moving forward to let it run down his cock. how was he able to get a lady like you? you're so nasty. fucking filthy and sloppy. playing with his cock like it was your toy, yours to crave,, to do what you please. he just wanted you to milk him dry. he wanted your warm, wet, and absolutely giving throat again, fucking god!!!!!!

he’s just touching all over his cock. using both of his hands to stroke his needy length. waiting and watching you like a lost puppy listening for his orders.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#WANT TO GIVE HIM HEAD SO BADDD#he’s such a puppy#humiliation kink lowkey done by meeeeeee

[princessracecar]

“Describe to me in detail the exact texture of a perfect pumpkin pie.” Says Armand from behind his notebook.

“Uh” says Janet, the manager at the all night bakery exactly 3.475 miles away from the condo he shares with Daniel.

He doesn’t need Daniel knowing about his plans and Daniel is a great many things, but stupid is not one of them.

The bakery’s two regular employees, Elizabeth and Garret shoot them furtive glances from behind the counter. He’s not allowed to talk to Elizabeth and Garret anymore. Apparently he was being “creepy” and “intense” and waiting to ambush them with questions out in the parking lot was also not acceptable. Daniel wants him to rely less on his vampiric gifts. “If you’re going to act like a human, you should maybe try to actually act like a human” he had said. Whatever that means. Armand hasn’t been a human in a very long time and many of their behaviors are confusing to say the least. But if he isn’t to use the Mind Gift to parse the answers he needs, he needs to be… personable.

And so he sits with Janet, who had agreed not to call the police on him as long as he promised to “stop being weird” and buy something. The look on her face implied that he should buy several somethings. Perhaps many somethings. There was now a box of individually wrapped slices of cake settled on the table next to them in the corner booth that they are currently occupying. He can’t bring the cakes back to Daniel because then he will absolutely know something is going on, but perhaps he can leave them on the doorstep of a family the next street over without arousing suspicion.

He can tell that Janet is trying very hard not to ask him why he doesn’t try some of the pies the bakery has on display. It’s a fair question. Maybe he can pretend to be allergic to eggs. There are eggs in pies aren’t there? Food is so much different now than it was when he was alive. He takes a breath he doesn’t need and says very quickly “This is my first Thanksgiving with my husband and I want it to be perfect.” There, that was a normal thing to say. It even had some relation to the truth. Somewhat. If you squinted a lot. Janet, however, visibly relaxes in the booth across from him and beams in delight.

“This is Armand.” Says the still smiling Janet to the tall and rather disheveled looking blonde woman wearing chef’s whites with her hands buried in some sort of floury mixture spread out across the top of the metal table in the back room of the bakery. The woman had tersely introduced herself at Katia before turning to Janet and proclaiming “Isn’t that the guy who was being weird on the security cameras?”

“This is shortcrust pastry.” Says Katia after several tense minutes and a very pointed eyebrow from Janet. Armand dutifully writes “shortcrust pastry” in his notebook.

Katia takes on the air of someone about to deliver a very in-depth lecture. The slight tightening around her eyes (as well as her inner monologue) implies that he had better pay attention.

“It’s used in both sweet and savory pastries, tarts, and pies and is referred to as a “short” crust because the texture is light and crumbly.”

Katia explains to him the process of making the pastry. For some reason there is rendered animal fat involved and he is made to absolutely promise that he will not use “the devil’s ingredient” although he is utterly unsure what “Crisco” is. Perhaps some sort of poison.

“We roast our own pumpkin in house. It’s sourced from a local farm that’s known for their pie pumpkins.” says Katia. Armand feels his eyes widen ever so slightly in doubt.

“Of course, you can always use canned pumpkin” she continues with the air of someone who has just suggested that he eat raw sewage.

“It appears very… orange” hazards Armand. Katia narrows her eyes at him.

“I am certain most humans love it!” He backpedals. Katia gazes at him a moment longer and then visibly moves on.

She shows him the finished pies balancing on the cooling rack. They are no less orange than the roasted pumpkin that she had shown him earlier. He had looked up pictures of pumpkin pies on the internet and hoped that they would perhaps look less orange in person. He thinks that actually, the opposite is true. At least the baked ones no longer looked like soup.

“And people enjoy these?” He asks

“Yes.” Says Katia irritatedly. “Now get out of my kitchen.”

He strolls home through the night, box of cakes wedged awkwardly under one arm. He had no idea human food was so complicated. He supposes that he hasn’t given much thought to human food in a very long time. When he was alive it was more about sustenance than pleasure. He realizes that he wants this meal to be pleasurable for Daniel, after all it will be his last Thanksgiving as a human.

[thydungeongal]

can you think of any mid-sized, easy-to-get-into ttrpg you'd like to see me dig into? Failing that, is there any way to get rolemaster for free?

Oh, I can think of at least a couple I'd love to hear you talk about!

Ironsworn and Flying Circus would be fun to see you tackle, and both are definitely on the mid-sized side, but both are also very interesting to me because they very much represent very maximalist applications of the PbtA framework. Ironsworn is very easy to get access to since the base game is entirely free.

There are ways to get Rolemaster for free, but they involve piracy. I'm unsure about your personal feelings about piracy but I understand if it's not something you can exactly talk about openly on your channel. There are also a few free Rolemaster-likes, Lightmaster being the most meticulously crafted one. It's weird, because it's basically an exercise in taking the OGL and D&D 3.5 system reference document and trying to build a d20-based simulacrum of Rolemaster 2e from the ground up. It's a neat product and the one I always end up coming back to when people ask for a free sampler of Rolemaster without having to put money down.

(By the way, if you decide to look at Rolemaster, I don't want you pulling any punches: I know I am very loud about my love for that dang game, but it is a game that I love almost in spite of itself.)

And finally I would really appreciate seeing you tackle something like Mythras or RuneQuest! (For the record, Mythras effectively is a legacy version of RuneQuest but stripped of the RuneQuest branding and rereleased as a toolkit game.) Based on what I have understood about your tastes in RPGs I think both of those games may very much be emphatically not your cup of tea, but speaking only for myself I have only very recently started delving into the history and many incarnations of Chaosium's old workhorse Basic Role-playing System (that has powered RuneQuest, Call of Cthulhu, and Stormbringer, among others) and have been especially taken in by Mythras's meticulous approach to verisimilitude and trying to provide GMs with tools for creating world's which feel real. This has partly been due to one of my good friends hyping up her homebrew setting (some of which she's posted on her blog @mythratica) and I have also caught the worldbuilder's disease simply through reading the rules of Mythras.

Sorry, that got very long. But yes, I love listening to you talk about games :)

[snexy-the-snail]

Personal Night light

@softsnugglystomach there we go! Less of a taunting pred ;)

Poseidon had tried to create distance between him and his mortal child. Not because he didn’t care, oh no the opposite. His entire being ached with the need to reassure Percy was loved, adored, and cherished. The bitter feeling in his chest, however, was a major obstacle to that. How could he even think about doing that to his son? Being trapped inside, being helpless, in the suffocating dark with no space to move or to-  

He lets his breath out, forcing himself to focus on the weight pressed against him right now. Percy was resting right now, he was safe, he was fine. He swallows thickly, running a hand through the raven curls. He hadn’t ruined their relationship either, Percy was visiting him. He was praying, and asking for help, slightly demanding that he stay in the cabin for some nights so he could rest. He tightens his grip on his child, dipping his head to press a kiss against his forehead. The teen of course didn’t even stir, other than a small twitch.  

“You get that from your mother.” He murmurs absent mindedly, closing his eyes with a sigh. He leans more against the pillows propped up behind him, savoring the moment. “Though you’re as reckless as the sea, and I fear that will be your undoing.”  

The bitter feeling practically claws at his chest, feeling like acid biting into his very being. Percy was safe. He didn’t need to worry about anything else right now other than allowing his son some time to sleep. The clock in the room seemed deafeningly loud. Time was supposed to flow quickly and yet Poseidon couldn’t help but feel like it was dragging on.  

He barely noticed Percy stirring, until the demigod pushed away from him with a sleepy groan. “You good dad?” Percy murmurs groggily, fondness blooming in his chest as he watched the teen rub the sleep from his eyes. “Yes...I’m fine.” Poseidon answers, bringing a hand up to caress the boy’s cheek.  

“Really? Cause I’m pretty sure it wasn’t me who exploded the fountain.”  

Poseidon blinks, tilting his head to the side to look at the center of the cabin. The marble fountain he had given Percy had water spilling over the edges, small waves crashing about in its own miniature storm. “Ah...” he murmurs, waving one of his hands, the water retreating back into the fountain without a mess to be seen.  

“Seriously, you alright dad? You’ve got a weird...I don’t know, you just seem upset.” Percy prompts again. The only light coming from the moon shining in through the windows, and his own mouth when he spoke. Even then it was enough to see the concerned glint within the boy’s eyes, admits the drowsiness at least. He lets a soft hum out, his hand sneaking its way into the raven-colored curls, cradling the back of the boy’s head as he pressed his forehead lightly against his son’s. “You don’t need to worry about your old man.” He reassures. 

Percy seemed unimpressed, pulling back and stretching. “Being sent on a lot of quests let me learn a lot of things dad.” he starts out, pulling the blanket more around himself. Poseidon noting it was the shark one Sally had gleefully bought at the pier a few months ago. “Like you need way more ambrosia than you think, anything and everything will go wrong, and Gods lie.” he says so causally it made a sense of guilt rise in his chest with that acidic bitter feeling.  

“And I know you’re lying.” 

Percy had to be bluffing...Thought the look in his eyes let Poseidon know that his son wasn’t. One thing that had been painfully clear throughout the years was that his son was as stubborn as they came, and he was not about to test how far that truly went. “I am... having a hard time.” He admits after a moment, hating when Percy gave him a look, pulling the blanket tighter over himself. “Hard time how?” the demigod prompts.  

Theres silence between the two of them, Poseidon not ready to admit everything yet. His regrets of the past, his own self-hatred over his needs, how much he feared how short his mortal child’s life was. Percy caught on rather quickly, however, his shoulders drawing in. He could read his child’s thoughts to understand what he was thinking though. It felt a bit like an invasion of privacy.  

“It's about eating me, isn’t it?” Poseidon flinches, his gaze dropping. “I wish you wouldn’t phrase it like that.” He grumbles, not denying it at all. He hadn’t done it often, only when he was desperate to edge the acidic bitterness that curled in his chest. Triton he knew, did it more often than not, practically making a beeline for Percy whenever he visited.  

“Look unless you can come up with a better explanation for it, I’m calling it eating.” Percy shoots back narrowing his eyes with a huff, before laying back down, resting his head in the crook of Poseidon’s neck. The sea god quick to rest a hand on his son’s back, lightly rubbing circles into the tense muscles. “Holding sounds much nicer, and I’m doing just that, holding you inside where nothing can get you.”  

He rests his cheek on the boy’s mess of curls, closing his eyes with a pleased hum. Holding was a much better term considering any demigod swallowed down was meant to simply just be held there, safe within their divine parent. “Yeah, but you’re also, literally swallowing me.” Percy points out, leaning into his touch.  

“There are other ways, I just assumed simply just having you appear inside would be...disorientating.” Poseidon admits, his free hand combing through his son’s hair, lightly tugging any tangles out. “Same with simply just...putting you inside.”  

A small shiver comes from Percy, the boy shifting slightly as he curls more into the god. “Okay, you know what fair. I’ll take swallowing over that.” He grumbles. Poseidon chuckled at the response, giving his son a light squeeze.  

The silence falls over them comfortably, Poseidon resting his eyes in this time. Percy was safe. It was his mantra he more often than not would mentally reassure himself with. The demigod was more than capable and there was no reason for the fear...somewhat.  

“Go ahead.” 

Poseidon startled a bit, having thought that the boy had already fallen back asleep. “What?” He prompts, unsure if he had heard what was said. Percy didn’t mean... 

“Obviously you’re struggling and... I know that it...ya know helps.” Percy mumbles, shrugging. Part of him had expected for the god to agree instantly, and gulp him down then and there, He was not expecting Poseidon to guide him into a sitting position and smooth his hair back. If anything, his dad seemed...concerned, not eager. “It may...but that is my burden to carry Percy, not yours.” 

Warmth shoots through him at that, Percy swallowing the lump in his throat. “O-oh but um...doesn’t it? You’re obviously uncomfortable so...” He trails off, unsure on what to say. When Triton did it normally, he didn’t have a say, either being asleep or too overwhelmed with sea politics to care. Hermes had sorta sued it as a forced bedtime, and the few times Poseidon had done it he had either been at near death or asleep. This was the first time he felt...sorta in control about this whole thing.  

“You’re alive, I can see you breathing, that is more than enough for me.” 

Dammit this was making it way harder.  

“Don’t make me insist. I mean it dad...I want to help and honestly...it makes sleeping a little easier.” He mumbles, dropping his gaze. His dad quick to tilt his chin back up. The god’s expression was so tender, filled with warmth and love. It made his insides flip. “Don’t lie. You don't need to do it. I am satisfied with just being able to be here with you.” 

“Not lying! Trust me, if I didn’t want this, I’d kick up a fuss, I’m pretty sure I bit Triton the other day when he didn’t back off.” Biting his half-brother. Ha. That totally would’ve gotten him smite in the past.  

Poseidon chuckles at the reminder, staying silent for a bit before placing a hand on Percy’s shoulder giving it a squeeze, the grip was firm, but gentle. “I don’t want to trap you. I don’t...I just want you safe...” He murmurs.  

“I’d let you know if I felt trapped. I think I’m pretty good at saying what I want when it comes to gods.” Percy says with a weak smile, pleased when it got another chuckle from the god. A dipping sensation in his stomach gave him warning as his size shrunk. Small, but not as small as he was used too when it came to his dad. “I feel like any time I wear these pjs I always end up in a stomach.” He jokes, shrugging off his now massive, to him, blanket. His trusty shark pjs, surprisingly resistant to saliva and inner digestive system juices.  

“Ironic, considering the nature of sharks.” Poseidon muses, pulling Percy more against his chest, as he sits up fully. “You’re just the bigger fish in this situation.” Percy says with a small laugh, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as his dad brushed his hair aside.  

“Mm I suppose so. Though, there are plenty of fish who do not need a size advantage.” 

“Hey, I didn’t ask for an ichthyology lesson, just eat me nerd.” 

Percy smiles, when Poseidon still hesitates. If this was Triton, he’d already be halfway down already. “I’m fine. Promise.”  

“I just...Want you to be sure...” Poseidon murmurs. Sighing shakily in relief when Percy gives him confirmation. Percy closes his eyes, shivering when he feels the familiar warmth rush over his face. As usual it was like being at the beach during a warm summer day. Pleasant, warm, and for him safe. He scrunched his face up as shortly after the warmth was followed by his face pressing into his dad’s mouth, slick saliva clinging to his skin as he was eased further inside. A reassuring hum vibrating all around him as his face pressed in more. Thanks to the glow he could see everything, well once he opened his eyes a crack. Blue illuminated the way, Percy squirming slightly at seeing the back of the god’s throat. Gods it was so weird. He was being eaten alive and yet...completely fine with it. If someone had told 12-year-old him that not only was his dad a god but would regularly eat him he'd probably cross the street immediate.  

His heart rate speeds up when the first swallow drags him into the entrance of the throat, strong muscles latching onto him and keeping a firm grip on him. The next few seconds as always were slightly uncomfortable, slick muscles pulling him down, the sensation of falling setting in his gut as he was lifted up with his dad tilting his head back. Soon he grimaces as his face pressed against the entrance to the stomach, which gave with little issue, slipping into the space with no issue. Awkwardly curling up as more of him slipped inside, until he was completely cradled by his father’s stomach.  

“Percy?”  

As usual the God’s voice echoed around him, vibrating the space he was shifting around in. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He responds quickly, trying to right himself, which was proving to be harder than he liked. He grunts as he presses his arms out, trying to push himself up.  

“Here let me-” Percy yelps when an outside pressure guides his body upright, then says firmly placed on his back. “There, better?”  

“Actually yeah- how'd you do that so fast?” he asks, leaning against this dad's hands, enjoying the outward comfort. The glowing brightens briefly before dimming back to its original soft glow. “Practice.” came his reply. 

“come on, you’re not even going to give me an inkling of why?” He whines, closing his eyes with a pleased sigh. As much as he still thought this was gross, it still totally was, there was a certain comfort to it. It was like being in the sea in a sort of way, but better. The charge felt cleaner in a certain way, stronger and purer.  

“mm...No, I believe you’re meant to be asleep.” Poseidon muses, Percy rolling his eyes. “Ugh, you’re no fun.” He says, letting a yawn out. “But...thanks.” He mumbles afterwards. “I know you don’t really have to stay but it...really does help with sleeping.”  

The glow brightened around him, the hands pressing in more around him. “I’m glad.” Poseidon murmurs, sounding a bit choked up.  

[lillaydee]

Alone

Jackson! Joel Miller / OFC

Annie had always been alone. Until Jackson. But is it too good to be true?

Note: This was my second fic ever - the first one I wrote about Joel. Started writing to practice using English so if the language is bad please forgive me.

Also, Tess MIGHT not be shown in the best light here, so fair warning.

Word Count: 13,939 (It was 4 chapters, I combined it for this purpose)

WARNINGS:

EXTREME ANGST, Loneliness, Tess Lives (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Character Death, Minor Character Death, Not Canon Compliant, Graphic Death Descriptions

ANNIE

Annie had never really had people in her life. For less than a day, she had a mother and a father, both of whom immediately decided that having a baby was too much for them. She was found in a box in front of the fire station, and then immediately placed in the foster system, passed around, not really wanted by anyone, never staying anywhere long enough to make friends or get attached to people, until she turned 18 and was released into the society. She got a job as an assistant at the library, stacking books and helping with record keeping. For 30 glorious days, she had friends and a small room she rented from an old lady whom she helped with daily chores. She had a purpose and was looking forward to settling into her new life with her first paycheck.

And then the world went to shit.

For 20 years, Annie floated around, surviving, never really making any friends, just living, fighting, trying so hard to make sure she lived another day. Several times, she found places to set root in. Abandoned houses or shacks that can shelter her from harsh winters, and enough resources for her to forage or hunt for food. Those were the best days, she often thought. Getting to keep house, having a routine. But she was still alone. Alarmingly, she caught herself saying what was on her mind out loud daily. Just describing her day-to-day activities to the room or surrounding area, just to not lose her mind. Before she knew it, it became a habit. It’s not weird when she was alone. Not like there was anyone to laugh at her for talking to herself.

Every time, just when she got comfortable in her makeshift home, raiders would come. The infected would come. FEDRA would come. She was but one woman. She could fight, sure, years of surviving in this afterworld had forced her to learn, but she was still one woman. So, the backpack she kept ready to go was hauled onto her back, and a blanket filled with what she could carry slung over her shoulder, and she ran. On to the next place.

Sometimes she would be taken in by groups of people she met along her way, but the groups always moved on. In fact, on more than one occasion, she woke up to an empty camp, the people who had people having moved on without her, deciding she was not worth the resources needed to keep her with them. At least that’s what she told herself.

The men had use for her, though. They always had. Particularly in secluded places and under sleeping bags at night. She often wondered if she was upset by this, if she should feel used, offended. But to her, this was just another day. She had to survive somehow. And if her looks and body can help her survive another day, then so be it. The women did not see her that way, though. To them, she was a threat. Someone who mysteriously still looked good despite not having a meal plan and sleeping in the dirt every night for years on end. Someone who their men and protector could not seem to keep their eyes and hands off. Even at the end of the world, jealousy prevailed.

The men, although eager to take their payments from her, she noticed, would never put her before their women, which, in retrospect, was a good thing, but not for her. During every attack, every defense, she found that no one had her back. Often, she was left as bait so the others could escape, the men holding their women close to get them to safety. What she wouldn’t give to have someone do that for her.

She carried on as best she could. Moving from place to place, wandering around, never really sleeping, or eating well, until one day, she hit her limit. The conversations with herself stopped. She didn’t even have anything to say to herself anymore. How long can she keep doing this? Although she wasn’t aware of it at the time, going day to day for 20 years without anyone having her back finally caught up with her. She was all alone, with no one to love or live for, and no one to do the same for her. She felt tired. Surrendering, deciding that she had survived enough, and ready to give up. She stopped eating. Her body eventually got so weak she took to crawling to move when finding shelter but remained in the same area for weeks. When winter hit its peak, she stopped moving altogether. When her body grew numb and stopped shivering, she thought of the 30 days when she had people, had hope and purpose. If she was taking her last breath, those 30 days, the happiest days of her life were what she wanted to think about. No sadness when dying. Not when she had no one who would be sad for her demise.

That’s when Joel and Tommy found her, almost an icicle, starving and emaciated, and brought her back to Jackson.

From the moment Annie was brought into Jackson, Joel took it upon himself to make sure she was doing all right. He made sure Maria housed her in a small cottage at the end of the town, not far from his own place. He and Tommy came by every day for a week, fixing whatever needed fixing and making the place livable. Ellie and Maria came by and brought supplies – blankets, clothing, toiletries, even basic grocery needs – so she could start her new life in Jackson.

Maria learnt of her short experience at the library in the before, so asked her to help out in the library. Every day, Annie woke up, went to the mess hall for breakfast, went to the library, had lunch and continued working until the evening. Then, in the evenings, she would go to the storage warehouse, helping sort out supplies that had been brought in by the patrol groups, or even reorganizing a few things around. She kept to herself, though. She ate alone, worked alone, and went home alone. But she had a routine, people to serve and help. And in doing so people served and helped her as well, all a part of the ‘bartering’ system in Jackson.

Joel, Ellie, Tommy and Maria said hello every now and again. Tommy and Maria were friendly enough. Asking her if she needed anything, making sure she was alright and settling in well. Ellie began to stop by at the library, or even the warehouse, talking her ears off every single time. Annie liked spending time with her. Especially since she didn’t need to contribute much. Ellie would tell her everything she learnt, and then some. Movies she had watched, music she listened to, food she had tried, friends she had made. Annie began feeling less lonely, feeling as if she actually had people, even if for just a few minutes a day.

But Joel did more. Her firewood was always fully stocked. Her windows and doors never squeaked, her rotten steps magically fixed. He brought her bread every now and again. Jackets and books and whatever else he thought she would enjoy, extra fruits that he could get his hands on, anything, really. And if he happened to be on his way home at the same time as her, which was suspiciously often, whatever was burdening her hands would immediately be whisked away into his strong arms. He would walk the extra distance past his own house just to ease her person of anything she had to carry, which, at one point, was just her jacket, which she had taken off from being sweaty after a long day of organizing at the warehouse. He didn’t speak, though. Just a silent presence, grunting hellos and goodbyes sometimes. But no more.

After a few weeks of these unspoken actions, he began to linger on her porch after walking her home. And slowly but surely, the silences faltered. He started small talk with her. Asking about her day. It seemed Joel had never met anyone who was less prone to speaking than he was. She had been alone for so long, only having herself to speak to, so conversations did not come naturally to her. But she got used to Joel’s small talk, and eventually got comfortable talking to him, albeit in mumbled, or muttered short sentences. He was not exactly chatty to start with anyways.

When she got sick one day, these four people made sure she was taken care of, taking turns to check in on her, but Joel came every single day when he was not on patrol. When she got better, Joel continued to come every day, beginning with small talk on the porch, which eventually led to him being invited in for drinks, and their relationship progressed from there. Joel would tell her about his life from before. About his work, his daughter Sarah, about the depression and aimlessness that came from her death.

He told her about Tess, about his regrets of keeping her at arm’s length, of using her for survival, of scratching an itch while never acknowledging what might had been his true feelings for her until it was too late. He told her that despite his regret, he wasn’t sure if he would ever risk having such attachments to anyone ever again, his fear of losing them and down spiraling again too great a cost for his already fragile mind and heart. But then Ellie managed to somehow make him let his guard down, and now that he was safe in Jackson, with Ellie, Tommy and Maria, he wondered if he could risk his heart again. Perhaps let someone else in.

Their relationship turned physical sometime after that confession. That first time, Annie was shocked at how different things were with Joel. He was gentle, considerate, unlike the men she met before Jackson, who were only thinking of their own satisfaction, and never caring about hers. Joel explored her. Touched her. Felt her. Caressed her. With Joel, she didn’t feel like being used for sex. She felt as if she was cared for. Like she mattered. Important. And most importantly, she was sated. She woke up alone, his side of the bed rumpled, but oh so cold. Not that she minded. Other men left as soon as they were done with her. Why not him? This was what she knew. This was how sex was.

So, when he came back, time and again, and not always for sex, she was shocked. This is unfamiliar territory. He would still talk to her. He didn’t treat her like some leftover food he had spat out. She was not used to this. He seemed to still be interested in her. The sex remained intimate. Special. Eventually, he would hold her close after, and they would talk about nothing and everything. He never stayed over, though. He had Ellie to think about, he told her. She understood.

Despite their rendezvous turning sexual, Joel kept it private. He never showed her affection in public. Never sat for meals with her at the mess hall. Never sat with her during movie nights. Never danced with her at parties or gatherings. Behind closed doors, he could not keep his hands off her. But in public, he only watches her from afar, content with allowing Ellie, Tommy and Maria to entertain her and keep her company.

Annie didn’t mind. She knew how he felt, even though he never spent the night. She knew he wasn’t looking at anyone else. She knew she was his. She knew him enough to understand he needed time to navigate their relationship. And to be frank, this was more than she had ever had. So, who was she to question his intentions? At least she had him, even if it was just in the privacy of her little cottage. When out on patrol, despite him not talking to her unless they were alone, she knew he was watching, she felt as if for the first time in her life, someone had her back, even if it’s just a feeling.

Ellie knew. Maria knew. Tommy knew. They teased her about it sometimes. They knew she was Joel’s girl. That’s why they kept her company. Kept an eye on her at gatherings, knowing that the isolation she had been through made it difficult for her to make friends. Heck, even the town knew, despite the lack of PDA. She was often at the receiving end of sour looks from the single ladies of Jackson, those who had kept their eyes on Joel – the most eligible bachelor in town. The men had always paid attention to her, staring hard until they were forced to look away under the weight of Joel’s stern gaze, or, more often than not, their own wives’. Annie received death stares from those ladies for her troubles.

Joel noticed. He didn’t like it. She shouldn’t have to be on the receiving end of hatred from the ladies of Jackson, single or otherwise. So, for the first time since she arrived in Jackson exactly six months ago, he stayed. He comforted her and apologized to her. He reasoned that he was to blame for this. He should be more open about their relationship. So why don’t they have their meals together from now on? That way, people would see, and she would no longer be the sole gossip fodder. Annie agreed, looking forward to belonging for once.

The next morning, they walked to the mess hall together, her hand entwined in his. They picked up Ellie on the way and were soon joined by Tommy and Maria. Along the way, they chatted, Ellie reading silly jokes from her pun book. Annie had never felt so happy. She was part of a group. She had people. These people chose her. Joel’s hand never left hers. The group received looks from the townsfolk, But Annie found that when in a group, the looks were not suffocating. It made her feel good, in fact. She thought she even saw some smiles thrown her way. For the first time in her life, Annie felt content. She will be alright. She was cared about.

As they were approaching the mess hall, a commotion at the gate drew their attention to it. The gate was opened quickly, and a woman walked in. She looked worse for wear, her eyes searching her surroundings. Annie felt Joel and Ellie and freeze next to her.

“Tess”, Ellie said.

The next thing she knew, Ellie was running at full speed towards the woman. Tess, apparently. She collided with Tess and started sobbing, asking how? How? Annie looked at Joel for answers. He looked like he had seen a ghost. He let go of her hand, and walked over to the two who were still wrapped in each other, faces full of tears. Joel reached them, and Ellie let go. Tess and Joel stood there, staring at each other, his face still pale and in disbelief, hers, hopeful. Joel broke the tension with a bear hug. Tears falling down his face. When the hug broke, he kissed her.

He kissed her. On the lips. Passionate. Raw. Desperate.

He kissed her, right there in front of the mess hall, where half the townspeople were watching.

He kissed her.

Annie felt numb. Tommy and Maria stood there, frozen. Maria kept looking at her but was at a loss for words. Annie couldn’t move. She watched. She watched as Joel kept on kissing Tess fiercely, and the woman reciprocated just as much. When they finally broke, they were breathless, smiles all around. They grabbed Ellie and had a group hug. Tommy began to tell Annie who that woman was, but Annie already knew, finishing his sentence for him. The three turned and walked down the street, still in each other’s arms, Joel’s wrapped tightly around Tess’s waist, the other around Ellie’s shoulder.

Joel did not look at Annie.

A month went by, Tess had settled well it seemed. She stayed with Joel and Ellie. She was very popular, indeed. She was tough, but friendly. She had been around people all her life, so making friends came easy for her. She and Joel walked Ellie to school every morning, after having breakfast in the mess hall as a trio. They then spend the whole day on patrol together, coming back in time for a family dinner with Tommy and Maria. Tess’s arrival was the talk of the town. The town accepted Tess like she was the prodigal son, returned from some bad ass adventure to complete the first family of Jackson.

Annie waited for Joel to come to her. Say goodbye to her. Explain to her. But he never did. Neither did Ellie. Annie understood why Joel had to stay with Tess. He told her about his regrets after all. She was sure that if it had been her, she would have done the same. That doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt. She didn’t need an apology. But a goodbye would have been nice. A closure of sorts, and then perhaps they could go back to being her people. But that never came. Tommy gave her some awkward smiles every now and again. Maria was the only one who talked to her often, but it was mostly at the library or the warehouse, mostly about work. One day, as Annie was giving Maria the weekly report on the stationery stock at the warehouse, her words stopped. Maria went to the window to see what she was looking at. Joel, Tess and Ellie, walking side by side, arms around each other as usual, laughing at something Ellie said. Annie’s heart felt heavy. Maria put her hand on her shoulder, a look of sympathy on her face.

“Please understand, they are a family”, she said.

Annie didn’t answer. Maria went on to explain that they had history, a connection from the start. How they thought she was dead, but she had magically survived. They swore to never take another moment for granted, to live their lives to the fullest. Joel and Ellie just didn’t know how to tell her, but she was sure they felt bad about it. They will come and talk to her one day, she said. She was sure of it. Just give them some time.

Annie remained quiet. She didn’t tell Maria how she waited for Joel to come. How she longed for a proper goodbye. How the women in town now sneered at her – dumped like yesterday’s garbage without so much of an explanation. She didn’t tell Maria how she received unwanted visitors now, women who berated her and threatened to kill her for their husbands’ unwanted advances on her during patrol. She didn’t tell Maria how she had started talking to herself again. She didn’t tell Maria that she was lonely. She didn’t tell Maria that she had been out with a terrible cold for almost a week, and despite her absence from her places of work, no one came to check on her. There was no use in telling her. She was alone. She will always be alone.

When another month passed and there was still no sight of Joel, Annie felt herself resenting the loneliness that quilted her. It was suffocating. It was all she could think about. She found herself in a familiar rut, except this time she had the knowledge of what it was like to have people. Being lonely when she didn’t know better was fine. But being lonely now, it was draining her quickly. And being lonely when there are people around her, especially those who she thought were her people – people who quickly decided she was not worth their forever after, or even the courtesy of a goodbye, pulling the rug of comfort from underneath her just as she began to settle on it – was unbearable.

She was on a supply run one day, on foot, along with Tommy, Maria, Joel and Tess. Maria thought bringing her along would be good, since they had planned to check out a nearby library for books for the school. She had to watch as Joel and Tess walked side by side, comfortable with each other, talking and laughing quietly among themselves, neither sparing her a look. Tommy and Maria were the same, save for some pitiful looks from Maria, and some very uncomfortable glances from Tommy. When the clickers came, the two couples moved in sync with their partners. Each having an eye out for the other. Having each other’s backs.

Annie was on her own. No one was there to watch her back, despite being in a group. While she was perfectly capable of taking care of the clickers herself, she couldn’t help but envy Tess when Joel pulled the last clicker off of her and finished it brutally before turning to her and checking for bites and injuries, a worried look on his face. She turned around, maybe to give them privacy, or maybe because she couldn’t handle the way her heart clenched at the sight. It didn’t help. In her new line of sight, Tommy was checking on Maria, just as Joel was on Tess. Annie felt blood trickling from her nose, an unfortunate consequence of falling on her face when she was surprised at the beginning of the attack, but no one was checking on her. So, she walked a little further to a small creek, wanting to wash her face off the blood that had now started to gush rather than trickle.

But a series of clicking made her stop in her tracks. She turned to see a clicker not 10 yards away from her, unaware of her presence thanks to the bubbling sounds coming from the water. She saw Joel in her periphery, quickly warning him to stay silent. Noticing the clicker, he raised his gun, only to realize he was out of bullets. Annie raised her own gun, one bullet left in the chambers. Tess appeared out of nowhere, her feet snapping a twig on the ground. The clicker reacted, ready to attack her. Tess was frozen in place. Annie fired at the clicker, hitting its shoulder. It turned and flew at her, landing right on top of her, mauling her shoulder and neck before another gunshot rang and the clicker fell off her.

Annie couldn’t move. Couldn't breathe properly. She could feel the cordyceps travelling through her bloodstream, the sound of the stream somehow muted by a loud gurgle in her ear, loud and frothy. Tess had shot the clicker. Tess had tried to save her. Suddenly she realized she didn’t feel scared. She looked at the sky, her mind going through the seven months of her 39 years on this earth where she had people. When she belonged. Happy. And now, as she was leaving, she didn’t feel that alone.

Joel and Tess came into view, the gun in her hand still smoking. Tommy and Maria came running, guns ready. None of them said anything once they saw the bloody bites on her neck and shoulder. Annie looked at Tommy, who turned the other way. Maria looked at her, a small smile on her lips, eyes full of attempted comfort. Tess looked… sorry? But she looked away too quickly for Annie to be sure. Annie focused her sight on Joel. She didn’t try to get up. She couldn’t read the expression on his face. But as he took Tess’s gun from her hands, Annie thought, or maybe hoped, she saw something resembling a glimmer of regret? Sadness even?

When he aimed the gun at her head, she saw for sure that he had tears in his eyes, before he closed them, turned his head the other way, and pulled the trigger.

Loneliness turned into nothingness.

JOEL

Joel stopped moving. Something in his periphery seemed suspicious. When Tommy reached his side, Joel stopped him. They had just walked this path yesterday. Joel was sure that the lump he and Tommy were looking at right now was not there then. They decided to approach, cautiously creeping towards it, guns out and ready. The lump was mostly covered by snow, but the grey and black cloth sticking out here and there caught his attention. Tommy went closer, Joel watching his back in case anything happened. There was nothing on the route, usually flat and clear from their patrol trails, except this lump.

When Tommy cursed and told him it was a person, Joel told him to make sure they were unarmed, or not dangerous. Tommy poked and prodded lightly at the person, and actually thought they were dead. When they pulled the jacket that was covering the person, Joel saw what he thought was a young girl. She was practically blue, and looked so emaciated, as if she hadn’t had anything to eat in weeks. Tommy dropped to his knees beside her, took his gloves off and checked her pulse. He couldn’t feel any. Rather than just move her, they decided to bury her, just for the humanity of it all. As Joel lifted her slightly frozen body, she moved, and a small whimper escaped her.

Joel almost dropped her from the shock.

They immediately decided they should take her back to Jackson. Joel had her laid against him on his horse, his heart clenching at how light she was, how weak, unable to sit by herself without support on the horse. Tommy ended up having to pass her to him like a parcel for both of them to be on the horse. Joel’s heart wept throughout the two hours journey, for she was constantly, weakly crying from the pain that the horse’s movements caused her, her bones too brittle, her muscles too weak and out of use to respond. She ended up spending her first ten days at the infirmary mostly sleeping, only waking long enough to eat the small amounts of food that her shrunken stomach could take several times a day, IV drips continuously rehydrating her poor worn body.

Joel found himself unable to stay away. His thoughts were always on her. Had she been alone? Was she captured? Did someone torture her? Will she be alright? He spent his free time at her bedside, but slipped away whenever she stirred, worried that his presence might scare her. If she had been tortured, having a big, unfamiliar man such as himself next to her bed might be traumatizing, and he didn’t want that for her.

Ellie came to keep him company sometimes, curious as to why Joel had taken such an interest on this new person. The truth was, he didn’t even have an answer for that. Was it because he felt responsible? Maybe he didn’t want someone else to die on his watch? Maybe because he saw Sarah, Ellie, or even Tess in this person? As the days passed, the new patient’s face grew fuller, her body cleaner and slowly filling up, and it became apparent that she was attractive. Ellie started teasing him – ooh… no wonder you wanted her here, Mister Joel we-cannot-trust-people Miller, complete with a mockery of his voice. Joel rolled his eyes and gave her a stern look, but wondered if the little precocious girl was right.

When she was strong enough, Maria asked the woman a few questions. They learned that she had been alone, only joining groups whenever she ran into one, but often left alone again. They learned that the isolation meant she had no idea how much time had passed since the world ended. They learned that she had just turned 18 when the outbreak happened, although she certainly did not look 38. They learned that her name, was Annie.

When Annie was released from the infirmary, Joel took it upon himself to make sure she was doing all right. He made sure Maria housed her in a small cottage at the end of the town, not far from his own place. He and Tommy went by every day for a week, fixing whatever needed fixing and making the place livable. Ellie and Maria sent supplies – blankets, clothing, toiletries, even basic grocery needs – so she could start her new life in Jackson.

Joel watched Annie from afar that first week. He saw that she went to the mess hall for breakfast in the mornings, spent a better part of her day working at the library before spending some time helping out at the storage warehouse. She kept to herself, though. She ate alone, worked alone, and went home alone. Joel felt like a creep for watching her like this, but for some reason he couldn’t bear to tear himself apart from her. He needed to know how she was doing. So, he sent Ellie, Tommy and Maria her way, making sure she had everything she needed. Ellie had even taken to visiting her at work after school just to keep her company. It made his heart swell with pride, his little girl being so considerate of Annie.

For his part, Joel did not approach her still. Instead, he went around to her little cottage and made sure she had what she needed. He chopped wood for her. Fixed her squeaky doors and windows for her. Once, he had fallen through the rotten step on her front porch as he was trying to place firewood on it. He fixed it before she came home.

Since he settled in Jackson not six months ago, Joel had never been aware of the looks he received from the ladies. He was basically their eye candy. When Tommy brought this to his attention, he dismissed the idea. Twenty something young ladies swooning over an old man like him indeed, what a ridiculous notion. What he did not realize was that this was true. They would find any excuse to talk to him. Every time he went to the shops for groceries, the ladies managing them would slip in extras for him, supposedly because he had a young charge to feed, and growing little girls need nourishment. He didn’t need the extra fruit and bread and the likes, the usual supply more than enough for him and Ellie. So, he began dropping off the extras to Annie, knowing that she was still too shy and uncomfortable to go to the shops to get her own. He took the opportunity to find her around town to give them to her, or sometimes passed them to Ellie to make sure she got them.

Whenever Joel went on supply runs, Joel looked out for things Annie would need. A warm winter jacket, gloves, scarves, anything at all. There was a mall near-ish to Jackson the patrol visited a lot. Usually, Joel would just collect what he could and send them straight to the warehouse after. But these days, he would select things that he thought would suit Annie the most, and then gave them to her by hand while at the warehouse. Joel also found himself lingering after his job was done, waiting for Annie to finish her work, and pretended like he just happened to be there when she was leaving. He would just relieve her of whatever she was carrying, and silently walked next to her all the way to her little cottage. When they arrived, he would just deposit the items on her porch, and quietly left.

Joel could not understand it, but he needed to be near Annie. Needed to get to know her better. And despite their encounters always lacking conversation, he was comfortable with her. She made him feel at ease. So, he began asking her small talk questions. And she, in turn, politely nodded, or shook her head in response. Joel found that he didn’t mind. And anytime she smiled at something he said, he could’ve sworn he was floating on air. Over time, Joel and Annie became closer. They would exchange life stories. And Joel, the most private, grumpy, emotionally unavailable person he knew, shared his most intimate stories with her. He told her about Sarah. He told her what he attempted to do upon her death. He told her how hollow he was, how emotionless, how depressed. He shocked himself at this, he had never told anyone about this, not even Tess or Ellie – not directly anyways, and certainly not a few weeks after meeting them, with barely enough words spoken to each other. They had both found out about Sarah through Tommy and Maria respectively. Tommy told Tess about his failed attempt for his life, and he only told Ellie about it to try to make her understand how much she had given him hope. Heck, if Tommy wasn’t there with him during those times, he might not even have told him, his own brother.

He told her about Tess, his regrets about how his relationship with her turned out. He saw Tess as someone to survive with. Someone he could scratch an itch with, cared for, looked out for, but never someone he had deep feelings for. A partner, a business one, with the added benefit. When she died, he felt as if he had used her, knowing that she felt more for him than he did for her, and the guilt made him wonder if he really did just see her as such, or if things would have turned out different had he just allowed himself to love. He had dreams when he first arrived in Jackson, he said, of him, Tess and Ellie settling down as a family. He always woke up convinced he had screwed up, that he was indeed in love with Tess, but it was all too late. He told her that despite his regret, he wasn’t sure if he would ever risk having such attachments to anyone ever again, his fear of losing them and down spiraling again too great a cost for his already fragile mind and heart. But then Ellie managed to somehow make him let his guard down, and now that he was safe in Jackson, with Ellie, Tommy and Maria, he wondered if he could risk his heart again. Perhaps let someone else in.

Joel told her a lot of things he never thought he would tell anyone. He was just very… comfortable with her. In return, Annie told him about her life on the road, about the groups she had joined, those who used her for sex, who left her when she was no longer needed. Those who treated her like trash just because their men looked her way. How she had no one to talk to, except herself. How she gave up, and resigned herself to dying alone, just as she had lived, when Joel and Tommy found her. Joel’s heart ached at her life story. Annie seemed unaware how unconventional her life was – she had grown so accustomed to being alone, being treated badly, that she didn’t see the wrong in those people she had met. To her, that was all just another day.

When he tried to kiss her for the first time, Annie admitted to not knowing what to do, or how to reciprocate. The other men had never done so. It was always a quick in an out, mostly for fear of their partners knowing, her legs spread open while she was sleeping and a hand over her mouth to stop her from screaming, or a quick bend over against whatever was out of the line of sight of the group they were with, again, with a hand over her mouth.

Joel bristled at this. So, he patiently, with her consent, showed her what sex could be like. He was gentle, considerate, and giving. Joel explored her. Touched her. Felt her. Caressed her. All he wanted was for her to feel cherished, so that she didn’t feel like being used for sex. Cared for. Mattered. Important. And most importantly, sated. He didn’t stay, but he made sure to always come back, and not just for sex. He didn’t want her to think that was all he wanted from her. He made sure the sex remained intimate. Special. Eventually, he would hold her close after, and they would talk about nothing and everything. He still did not stay the night. He had Ellie to think about, he told her. She understood.

What Joel didn’t know was that the whole town already knew. In fact, his lack of public acknowledgement of this relationship made her a walking target. His fan club called her a hussy, opening her legs for scraps from Joel when he didn’t even want to be seen in public with her, despite the fact he was seen with her daily. The men leered and stared at her, and their partners hated her, blamed her for their partners’ wandering eyes. When he found out, he kicked himself for keeping her at an arms-length, his decision making her more of a target than she would have been if he had just been more open. So, for the first time since she arrived in Jackson exactly six months ago, he stayed over. He held her, comforted her and apologized to her. He suggested they sit for their meals together from now on. That way, the single ladies would see that he wanted her to be with him, that she wasn’t in some one-sided delusional sexual arrangement with him, the men would know to back off her, and their partners would stop blaming her for their husbands or boyfriends’ roving eyes and filthy thoughts.

Despite their rendezvous turning sexual, Joel kept it private. He still walked her to and from work daily, but he never showed her affection in public. Never sat for meals with her at the mess hall. Never sat with her during movie nights. Never danced with her at parties or gatherings. Behind closed doors, he could not keep his hands off her. But in public, he only watches her from afar, content with allowing Ellie, Tommy and Maria to entertain her and keep her company. Joel noticed that as time passed, Annie opened up more, laughed more, communicated more, got out more. His heart grew in size seeing her so happy.

He wanted to be near her, wanted to shout about their relationships from the rooftop, but he wanted to protect her. Gossip in a small town such as Jackson can be debilitating, and with her looking so much younger than her actual age, Joel didn’t want her to be the target of gossipmongers, that young lady with a creepy old man. So, he kept his distance, in public anyway.

Joel froze.

The next morning, they walked to the mess hall together, her hand entwined in his. They picked up Ellie on the way and were soon joined by Tommy and Maria. Along the way, they chatted, Ellie reading silly jokes from her pun book. Joel was happy to see how happy Annie was. She laughed at Ellie’s stupid pun book jokes, chatted freely with Maria and Tommy, and cuddled up to him like it was the most natural thing to do. Joel thought to himself, this was it. He was finally happy. Settled. Content.

As they were approaching the mess hall, a commotion at the gate drew their attention. The gate was opened quickly, and a woman walked in. She looked worse for wear, her eyes searching her surroundings.

“Tess”, Ellie said.

Ellie ran full speed towards Tess, colliding with her, hugging her tight and started sobbing, asking how? How?

Joel felt his insides freeze. Time ceased to exist. Tess was dead. She died. In Boston. She got bitten, and sacrificed herself so that he and Ellie could escape. How could she be here? But Ellie was hugging her. And she was hugging Ellie back, so it couldn’t be his imagination, could it? His entire body just moved without his control. It was as if he was in a fantasy world, one where he visited almost every night those first few months he and Ellie arrived in Jackson, sleeping safe and sound in their beds at night, where Tess was alive, and he got to do everything he wished he had done before she died. The one where he had allowed himself the possibility of love, where they were a family, and everyone was alright. His feet just moved him towards the two. He held out his hand and touched her face tentatively. Part of her face and neck were scarred, burnt, most likely, but it was Tess. It was definitely her.

“Hi Joel”, she said, her eyes full of hope that he would recognize her, and happy to see her there.

This must be a dream. Surely, he was dreaming. He was touching her. If this was a dream, this was the realest dream he had ever had. He hugged her. Her scent overwhelmed him, it was so familiar, so real, yet so surreal. He thought of the last time they saw each other, how she was screaming at him to leave, how she wouldn’t let him near her, how he wished they could have one last kiss.

So, he kissed her. He poured all his regret and guilt into that kiss. He forgot where he was, he had forgotten since he saw her. All he could think of was Tess, and that she was here, and that she was alive, in his arms, kissing him. He can make things right. Everything he had spent months of sleepless nights thinking and dreaming about could come true now. He was high on that dream. Tess was back. When he broke the kiss, he looked at Tess and Ellie’s faces, both wet from tears, and knew his own was too. He pulled them both into a hug and turned around to bring them home.

The moment he got Tess showered and fed, the three of them sat in the living room, all curled up together. She told them how her sleeve caught fire during the chaos, and out of fear and pure panic, she ran out, frantically trying to put out the fire licking at her arm, neck, and parts of her face. She was thrown away from the building when the blast happened, and woke up the next day, burns all over her. She realized that she hadn’t turned, and that the fire must have burnt her infection off. Her injuries made it slower to move, but eventually she got to Frank and Bills, and spent some months alone, recuperating with the supplies they had before making her way to Jackson.

When they had sex that night, Joel thought to himself, this was a good dream. This could not be real. So, he savored it, letting Tess bounce on him as usual, making up for lost time, before they both fell asleep content, Joel wishing he would never wake up from this dream.

Except he did wake up. The next morning. And Tess was still there sleeping soundly. Joel felt as if something was not right. What was it? Hearing Ellie’s alarm clock down the hall snapped him out of his wondering. He got dressed, careful not to wake Tess, and went downstairs to prepare something for Ellie. She came down, sat in front of him, looked at him with hesitant eyes and asked:

“So, what are you going to do about Annie?”

Shit. This was not a dream. This was real.

Fuck. Annie.

Joel’s insides froze. Annie. He was with Annie. He was holding her hand when he saw Tess. And he let go… to kiss Tess full on the lips… in front of Annie. And then he just… left her there.

Fuck.

Joel knew immediately how much he had fucked up.

He needed to go to Annie. He had to explain.

But explain what exactly?

‘Hi baby, I’m sorry I let go of your hand, but I was out of my fucking head cause I thought I was seeing a ghost and then when it turned out she wasn’t one I kissed her full on in front of you cause I was glad she was alive, left you there, and then cheated on you’????

Doesn’t seem like the best excuse. Ellie was still staring at him, expecting an answer. His mind was blank. There was nothing he could think of that would excuse his appalling behavior.

“Dude, you need to tell her something. Are you breaking up with her? Or are you telling Tess about her? But you need to do something. Figure out what you want,” she said. As if he didn’t know that. Although annoyed that he was being schooled by a 15-year-old, he couldn’t help but feel ashamed of himself.

As he walked Ellie to school that morning, she told him what she thought of this situation. She thought Joel would be much happier with Annie. Annie was the person he chose, not the person he happened to work well with out of some desperate situation, regardless of how long he had known the ladies. Although she was glad Tess survived and was in Jackson with them, she didn’t think Tess was what he needed. Annie brought softness in him, calmness. His nightmares stopped after Annie came into his life. And while she didn’t know Tess for long, she doubted that Tess brought those things out of Joel. But of course, it’s his decision. But he needed to make one. Walking home from school, he was joined by Tommy and Maria, who, annoyingly, parroted the same sentiment Ellie did.

They had a point. He was a changed man with Annie, for the better, and everyone could clearly see it. She calmed him, soothed him. When they were on the road with Tess, his sleep was interrupted with nightmares of Sarah. When he thought Tess died, they began to intersperse with visions of Tess burning and telling him she loved him. When they got to Jackson, that changed into the fairytale happy family which nightmarish quality was crudely brought to reality every time he woke up, leaving him in doubts and guilt, every time.

“I hope you won’t be too turned off by these”, she said, gesturing at the visible burn marks on her face, neck and shoulder. “I cannot believe Jackson is real. I am aware that you and Ellie have your own lives now, but I guess we can give being a normal couple a shot now, huh? A real shot at happiness? Be a family? The three of us?”

Those nightmares stopped completely when he met Annie. Those of Sarah, of Tess. No more nightmares. Rested. Only deep, peaceful sleep, even when she was not in his arms at night. He liked this new version of himself. He needed to tell Tess the truth before going to Annie to beg for her forgiveness.

When he got home, Tess was waiting for him. Her hopeful face lit up when she saw him. As they were drinking their morning coffee, Joel braced himself to tell her about Annie. But Tess spoke first.

Joel was tongue-tied. The guilt that haunted him before came rushing back, despite the logic that filled his heart moments ago. He had often wondered what his true feelings for her were, and now he had the chance to find out. Shouldn’t he give it a shot so he would know once and for all and be done with it? Annie would understand, he just needed to tell her, and explain everything. After all, she was aware of his feelings and unresolved questions regarding Tess.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s give it a shot”.

The smile that lit up Tess’s face made him think he had made the right choice.

When Ellie came home from school and learnt of the decision, she didn’t look too pleased, but hugged Tess anyway. Joel thought he saw the smile on Tess’s face faltered, only to be turned back on. When Tess went to shower, Ellie asked him what about Annie? Joel explained his side of the decision, promising to tell Annie about it. Ellie shook her head disappointingly but hugged him in support anyway. Tommy and Maria did not look too pleased when Tess told them the news either, but smiled and hugged her, welcoming her to the family anyway. Like Ellie, they quietly warned Joel to talk to Annie. To not abandon her fully. Joel was starting to get exasperated by all this meddling, talking to him as if he was a child who needed reminding.

That evening, while Maria was showing Tess around town, Joel went to the warehouse to talk to Annie. But as he was approaching the door, Maria and Tess were on their way out, and he saw Annie inside, head down, looking forlorn, trying to be strong, having been introduced to Tess face to face for the first time. The look on her face hurt him. He was the cause of that. Gone was the smile that had only begun to grace that face these few weeks ago, a slight downturn of the quivering lips replaced it, as if to stop herself from crying. Tess hugged him tight, thinking he was there to walk her home, and gave him a kiss. When he looked through the window, all he saw was Annie rushing away, looking as if she was crying.

Tomorrow, he thought. He will find her tomorrow. He had to talk to her. He must.

But during those few weeks, Tess did not leave Joel alone at all. She was with him wherever he went, some parts of the bodies always connected, at her insistence. It was as if she was nervous that she would be turned away, chased out of Jackson if she wasn’t with him, or that he would float away from her. She insisted that being with him was the only way the town would accept her quickly, because she was with Joel Miller. He couldn’t get away. He contemplated telling her about Annie just so he could go see her, but Tess’s newfound insecurity about the burns on her body made him think that she would not take him having a new and stunningly beautiful girlfriend when he thought she was dead well.

A month in, he found Ellie standing in front of the warehouse, looking as if she was contemplating going in, Annie inside, talking to Maria while perusing a ledger of sorts. Joel wanted so badly to go in, but Tess was just behind him, and Joel led Ellie away from the warehouse. As they were walking away, Joel’s hand was on Ellie’s stiff shoulder, walking a few steps ahead from Tess. She caught up with them, and quickly took his other hand and placed it on her hip. She asked Ellie what she was doing in front of the warehouse, and the teenager answered with some horrifically bad joke about looking for rats to feed some younger kids as a prank, laughing uncomfortably while doing so. Tess laughed out loud, and though Joel could tell Ellie was lying, he gave a small laugh anyway. When they got home, Ellie pulled Joel into the backyard, telling him that he needed to speak to Annie soon, as she couldn’t bear to see how sad and alone she was. Even Tommy and Maria couldn’t bear to talk to her about this, afraid that they might say the wrong thing. Plus, this was Joel’s mess to clean up, not theirs. It was not their place. It had to be him, as if he didn’t already know that.

At this thought, Joel was starting to resent Tess’s separation anxiety, and was beginning to see the consequences of his actions. Ellie had stopped talking to them both, resenting Joel’s cowardice, blaming his blind loyalty to Tess for it, only giving short answers when asked. Tess had chalked it to her being a moody teenager rather than ask her what she was angry about. Tommy and Maria stopped talking to them about personal things, only speaking to them when work was concerned. No more dinners together, no more double dates. All three of them making it quite clear to Joel that he was being cruel to both ladies. That he needed to sit down and reflect on what the fuck he was doing. To stop letting guilt eat him up. Tess was alive. She didn’t die, so all the guilt he felt that led to him going along with her needs shouldn’t conquer him anymore. That his indecisiveness and cowardice were making the three of them the bad guys as well. So, make his mind up already, for fuck’s sake.

What Joel didn’t tell anyone was, his nightmares were back. But this time, it was just Sarah, standing in a fenced yard, looking at him sadly. Try as he might, he could not get over the fence. As the weeks went by, she looked sadder and sadder, and over time, her sad expressions turned into disappointment. Joel always woke up feeling like an asshole, a coward, a failure. And he knew exactly why. He knew he had to come clean, but Tess being so vulnerable and self-conscious right now, he needed to be alone to talk to Annie.

But try as he might, Tess was not ready to go solo in her day-to-day business. Every time he tried to even suggest she went off on her own, to be independent, she found some excuse not to do it. Joel was stuck. Every time he saw Annie in town, his heart lurched. She was looking tired, like she had lost some weight and lacked a good night’s rest. She was always alone. Walking or eating with her head down. Joel wanted so badly to go to her, but with Tess there, he had to be careful. They were giving being a couple a shot, so the last thing he wanted to do was hurt Tess, but at the same time, he desperately wanted to talk to Annie, to make her smile again. Heck, he would take her wrath at full blast, would accept her never talking to him again, even a beating or two if it meant she wouldn’t be sad anymore.

That was when Joel really thought of things. After being with Tess for two months in a domestic setting that they could only dream of pre-Jackson, he didn’t feel any different to what he did before. He began to realize that even in an ideal setting such as this, he was never going to see Tess as a life partner.

Personality wise, Tess was strong and dominant, immovable, never taking any nonsense from anyone, and had a grit to her attitude that made people listen. That was why they were so successful back in Boston. She was the mastermind; he was the muscle. They worked well together because of that. But despite caring about her a lot back then, he was never in love with her. Even now, Tess made the decisions in the house. She decided everything, what they eat, which shifts to take, where they go, who they should be friends with. She was determined to make this relationship she had wished they had back in Boston a success, to be seen and known as a couple. To be a real couple. Any time Joel tried to suggest something, she managed to steer him her way, and his guilt-riddled mind would cave.

Being physical with Tess felt… forced. She initiated them. Whether at home or in public, she took his hand to hold, to wrap around her. It was always her who kissed him, and never the other way around. And somehow, these touches felt wrong in his hands. Despite knowing her for so long, holding her hand and having his arm around her waist just felt odd. Awkward. Their arrangement in Boston didn’t lead to those things. Sex still felt like scratching an itch, an act, he realized, he had never initiated since her arrival in Jackson. She would just climb on top of him, get him ready and take and take and take. Despite participating in the most intimate experience two humans can possibly partake in, there was no physical contact apart from the obvious. There was no intimacy. No connection. It was more of a race to orgasms. That kiss they shared upon her arrival was as intimate as they had ever gotten. After, they would just go to sleep. She would spoon him sometimes, but he never felt the need or desire to do that to her. There was never any pillow talk, no heart to heart, no talking about their innermost desires.

Annie, on the other hand, was the complete opposite of Tess. She was soft and submissive, but not necessarily weak. Being alone all those years made her tough and decisive when making choices for herself, but since joining Jackson she was more considerate of others, having realized that she needed to change slightly, now that she was no longer the only person that mattered, that she lived in a society, in a relationship, in fact. Any decision they made as a couple was always made together, and she had never forced her ideas and preferences on Joel, choosing instead to let him move at his own pace, content with what he had been willing to give her. Even now, when he had selfishly distanced himself from her, not once had she forced her presence on him and his family, despite how sad it obviously made her.

Physically, there was no comparison. Their connection was instant, Joel immediately comforted by her mere presence. Joel had never felt the intimacy they had with each other with anyone else. Not even Sarah’s mother, certainly not with Tess. Sex was not sex. It was making love. An equal need, often initiated together, spontaneously, both wanting to please each other, both giving and taking. And before Tess’s arrival, he found himself desperate to hold her after, enjoying the feeling of her body against his, both of them unburdening themselves of their innermost thoughts and insecurities with each other. Her hand in his felt right, as if her hand was what was missing from his own. His hand on her hips or around her waist and shoulder felt like they belong there. Every touch fitting perfectly like two pieces of a puzzle.

The thing that Joel realized was that it was not Tess’s fault. She had not changed. She was the same person she was during their smuggling days. The only difference was that they no longer had to struggle to survive from day to day. They had a nice house, all the amenities they needed, all the food they could eat. And still Joel felt that she was the one making the effort to make this relationship work, as staccato and routine as the relationship was. It was as if she wanted this more than he did. Which was how it had always been. Nothing had changed. Whilst he did love her, he realized now, for certain, that he was not in love with her. She was someone he worked with, and stuck with out of familiarity and need, a mutually beneficial relationship, but it was never love, at least not for him. He had let his guilt take over and ran his life with it.

Whereas Annie was someone he instantly connected with. Maybe it was savior complex, but he was pulled to her from the start, even when she was near death on that track, almost completely covered in snow. Their relationship was not one of convenience. He chose to begin one with her, making the effort to get to know her better, and kept on working to move forward in the relationship, taking small steps to bigger things each time. He opened up to her. And he knew for certain that he would have told her about the new nightmare that was plaguing him. He knew he was in love with her.

Joel kicked himself upon this realization. He was in love with Annie. Not Tess. It was never Tess. He needed to tell Annie, and even if she decided he was no longer worth her time, even if she hated him with all her being, he would respect that. But he could no longer live in this delusion he had stupidly created for himself.

That night, he told Tess that this domestic dream of theirs was not going to work. That they should go back to being friends. Tess looked disappointed but seemed to pull herself together. They gave it a shot, and obviously, his feelings hadn’t changed. She asked if there was someone else. He was truthful, saying that he was with someone when she came back into his life, and that he hurt her when he decided to give the relationship a go. But when Tess asked who the person was, he chose to keep quiet. They decided that he would sleep on the couch until Maria could arrange for another house for Tess, and that they would respect each other enough to remain friends and keep working together if needs must.

The next day, Tess acted no different than usual, no resentment, no tantrums, no emotional breakdowns. They were due to go on a supply run with Tommy and Maria. Joel planned to talk to them both then, about the separation and the need to find Tess another place to settle in. He told Ellie his decision over breakfast, the teenager barely able to contain her elation at the news. It was not that she didn’t like Tess. She just wanted Joel to be happy, and he was much happier and more relaxed when he was with Annie. Joel decided to drop by the warehouse after the run, and walk Annie home, just like he did all those months ago, beg for her forgiveness, and hope for the best.

But when they got to the gate, Annie was there, armed, and ready to go on the run with them. Maria quickly pulled Joel aside and explained the purpose of the trip, and as the person in charge of the library, her eyes would be useful for this run. Resigned, Joel decided to delay his news until they get back – he didn’t want to hurt Tess’s feelings further by announcing their separation in the presence of the woman he was leaving her for. He owed her that much.

They walked at a distance from each other, Tommy and Maria up front, Annie in the middle, and Joel and Tess at the rear, eyes forward, occasionally turning around to watch their surroundings. This was the longest Joel had been in Annie’s presence in the two months they had been separated, and it seemed, as hard as he tried, he could not help himself from looking at her, wishing she would turn around to see her face.

“It’s her, isn’t it? The woman you are in love with?” Tess asked.

Joel couldn’t answer. As much as he wanted to admit to it, he didn’t want Tess to know like this. So, he kept quiet. But his silence was all the answer Tess needed.

“She’s very pretty. Is she nice to Ellie?” she pressed.

Again, Joel kept quiet.

“It’s okay Miller. I get it,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” Joel offered.

“It’s okay Joel. We’ll still be friends. You cannot get rid of me that easily. I came back from the dead, you know?” she joked with a mischievous look on her face.

They both laughed softly, not wanting to make much noise. Joel felt lighter. Somehow, Tess being in the know made it better. Made him hopeful that this would be alright. But for now, he would walk alongside Tess, and do his job.

When the clickers came, their years of fighting off clickers together came into play. It was muscle memory. Working as a duo instead of individually. Every now and again, Joel would look for Annie. She seemed to be doing fine, killing it, in fact, literally. Her moves were practiced and practical, efficiently fending off clicker after clicker, before disposing them with a single gunshot. His attention was pulled back to Tess, a clicker had managed to get on top of her, Tess struggling to fight it off. No, Joel thought. He was not going to let this happen again, no matter what happened between them. He rushed over, pulled the clicker off her, and shot it. He pulled Tess up, and checked her for bites, a force of habit now, ever since he missed the bite she took back in Boston.

Satisfied that she was alright, he looked for Annie, wanting to check on her. He saw her, just disappearing behind some trees. He was quick to follow, ignoring Tess’s calls behind him, silently checking that Tommy and Maria were doing alright on his way. As he turned the corner, he saw her, face bloodied from a nosebleed, standing stock still facing something he couldn’t see. She saw him and put a finger to her lips. Joel raised his gun, aware that there must be a clicker around, its hearing tampered by the sounds coming from the stream. He moved quietly further up and saw the clicker. He pulled the trigger, but nothing but a small click came. He had run out of bullets.

As he was frantically trying to think of how to get Annie to safety without alerting the creature, Tess came into sight, realizing too late the clicker’s presence, and her foot fell heavily on a large twig. The clicker turned to her and snarled, stance at the ready to attack. Tess didn’t move, seemingly frozen to the spot, gun in hand not even raised to shoot. The clicker began to make its move, but before it could, a gunshot rang, and the clicker changed direction.

Towards Annie.

Joel felt as if everything slowed down. Annie took a step back and fell, the clicker getting nearer and nearer. Joel started running towards her, and saw Tess snap out of her trance, raising her gun, aiming at the clicker. Joel thought he saw the clicker bite Annie on the shoulder, eliciting a scream from her. It’s okay, he thought. Tess’s infections burnt off. Maybe they could try that. Tess will shoot the clicker. Everything will be alright.

But no shots came. He saw Tess hesitate. She fucking hesitated. In all the years he had known her, Tess had never hesitated with a shot. The clicker was fully on Annie now. She was using all her might to fend it off. Joel heard her scream.

A blood curdling, full-bodied scream. And then silence, save for the snarling of the clicker.

Joel reached Tess’s side. He snatched the gun away from her, aimed and shot. The clicker fell off Annie, who was now no longer moving. He stared at Tess, who couldn’t meet his eyes. He tossed the gun back at her, before going to Annie, kneeling beside her, refraining from gathering her in his arms.

His heart sank.

She was not only bitten, she was mauled. Chunks of flesh missing from her neck and shoulder, blood gushing from the wide-open artery on her neck. No amount of fire can help her, not without killing her. Joel held her limp hand. It was cold. Too cold.

***graphic descriptions of injuries and killing below ***

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“Annie, baby? It’s me. Look at me baby. I’m right here. I’m here baby. Please look at me. I love you. Please forgive me. I love you, Annie. I am so in love with you. Please baby. Look at me. Hang on for me okay”, he pleaded, tears pouring down his face.

Annie did not respond. It was as if she couldn’t hear him. Her breathing was ragged, frothy, gurgled - each stricken breath pumping more blood out of her neck.

Tommy and Maria arrived, both in disbelief at what they came to face. Joel kept pleading for Annie to look at him, but to no avail. Her eyes focused on the sky. She didn’t look scared. In fact, she seemed at peace. As if she knew this was it. Joel held her jaw, careful not to move her, and she seemed to come out of a trance, eyes looking at Tommy, and then Maria, and then Tess. Tommy turned around. Tears wet on his cheeks. Maria struggled with her own tears, trying hard not to scare Annie. And Tess… Tess looked… guilty.

Joel saw her beautiful brown eyes turning cloudy. The hand he was holding now starting to twitch. The infection was coming and coming fast. He had to end this. He squeezed her hand, leaned in and whispered that he loved her one more time, that he was sorry, and kissed her temple. Not that it helped. Her eyes were still looking around, searching. He stood up, his chest heavy with regret, already mourning the inevitable. He took the gun out of Tess’s hand. And that’s when he saw Annie’s eyes finally fixed on him. The eyes that he had missed so much, but had stupidly avoided these last couple of months, because he was too cowardly, too in his own head with his own dilemmas and indecisiveness to face them. And now that he had finally made up his mind, ready to forge a life of happiness with them, those eyes were closing for good. He had to do it. Before those eyes turn into the red, cold, snarling ones of the enemy. He had to do it, so he could remember her like this.

And so, with her beautiful eyes fixed on him, he tearfully looked at them one last time, and took his aim. But for the life of him, he found that he could not do it. So reluctantly, he closed his eyes, turned his head the other way, and pulled the trigger.

AFTERMATH

The walk back to Jackson was uncomfortably silent. Joel walked alone up front, not wanting to be with anyone. Tommy had his arms around Maria, who was quietly sobbing. Tess in the rear, her face unreadable.

Joel buried Annie by the river, not accepting help from anyone. His hands all bloody from the branches he used to dig a shallow grave, before picking Annie up to finish the deed. He held her close for ages, shoulders shaking with silent sobs for his lost love. He worked silently, not looking at anyone.

Behind him, Maria and Tommy were questioning Tess about what happened. When Tess told them, a strangely quiet, yet deafening whispered shouting match ensued, worried that more clickers might be nearby. Tess readily admitted she hesitated on the shot – afraid to shoot Annie by mistake. Tommy blew at her, accusing her of letting Annie die on purpose so she could have Joel to herself, Maria attempting to calm him down. Tess swore up and down it was an honest mistake. It was quite a sight.

When Joel had placed Annie in the grave, Tommy and Maria paid their respect, but when Tess attempted to do the same, Joel held her back, and asked her if she did it on purpose.

“I swear on my life Joel. No. I didn’t,” she said.

Tess squatted by the grave, and quietly said something to Annie. When she stood up, Joel looked at Annie’s beautiful face one last time, covered it with his jacket, and buried her. He placed some river rocks on her grave and left. No one said anything to him, and that was how it was all the way to Jackson.

When the gates opened, Ellie was there waiting for Joel, an eager look on her face, wondering if he had talked to Annie yet. When Annie was nowhere to be seen, she clocked the somber looks on everyone’s faces, and started panicking. She kept asking Joel where she was. Joel didn’t answer. He didn’t even stop. He kept walking. Tess and Maria held Ellie and before long she was screaming at Joel, telling him this was all his fault. He’s the reason she was dead. Tommy pulled her to him, and she crumbled, screaming that she didn’t get to say goodbye, and it was all Joel’s fault. She screamed that he was a coward, a cruel, heartless bastard for what he did to Annie.

Tess stood there, taking all this in. She had no idea this was all going on, and that these three were in the know about Joel’s relationship with Annie. Suddenly the gravity of her arrival made sense to her, and she felt like someone who was thrown into the deep end of a pool she didn’t even know existed. She ran to the house she had shared with Joel and Ellie, but Joel was not there.

She must have worn it every night since he left. His scent completely gone from it, replaced by the sweet ones of hers that he missed so much. For the first time since Sarah, Joel wailed. The amount of regret he felt was unbearable. He would do anything, give anything to take it all back, to turn back time to their happy days together. He would never have let go had he known the amount of pain he would be in. He laid on her bed, surrounded himself with her, and sobbed himself to sleep.

Joel did not go home. Instead, he kept walking, until he was faced with the little cottage he hadn’t visited since Tess’s arrival. Annie had started a small garden. Flowers and herbs everywhere, making the cottage look idyllic, fairy-tale-like. He walked in and was immediately greeted by her scent. The cottage looked different, little touches of Annie that he was familiar with, and yet had not seen. He saw a glimpse of Annie’s solitary activities, done to fill her time in his absence. A handwoven rug here, a new painting there. Some new pottery decorated the shelves, a couple still drying by the windowsill, and a half-made scarf on her favorite armchair. He went into her bedroom. His heart sank at the sight of his flannel on her pillow. He had left it there the morning after he stayed over that day. He picked it up and brought it to his face.

It smelled of her.

Weeks passed. Joel hadn’t returned home. No one had seen him around Jackson. Tommy, Maria and Ellie took turns sending him food at Annie’s cottage, which remained clean and well-maintained. Joel had not sat idle. He was determined to keep her memory alive, at least for himself. But he still had not spoken to anyone. They tried, oh how they tried to talk to him, but he moved about his activities as if they were not there. Tess had tried to visit, but every time she approached, Joel went into the house and slammed the door.

At his house, Ellie had been avoiding Tess at all costs. Tommy told her what happened, and she very openly blamed Tess for Annie’s death. Neither her nor Tommy was speaking to Tess, and the rest of the town, well, the fire of gossip made it worse. She was the scorned woman who got dumped by Joel Miller and made sure he didn’t have the woman he loved to go running back to, not that they were brave enough to say that to her face. As much as they town loved to talk, Tess was still a formidable woman, and no one dared cross her. Maria, it seemed, was the only friend Tess had left, telling her to give them all some time.

It all came to a head one day when Tess tried again to speak to Joel. Tommy, Maria and Ellie were there, helping Joel tend to the small garden of herbs Annie had planted. Tommy and Ellie began yelling at her to go away. And that was when Tess lost it.

“You know, until the day she died, I wasn’t even aware of this whole drama. She was just the nice lady who worked at the library and warehouse to me. No one told me. And now she’s gone it’s all my fault?” she said, eerily calm for someone who had lost her patience.

“It is not my fault you agreed to give us a try, Joel. It’s not my fault that you were too cowardly to tell me the truth, and too fickle and fucking undecisive to follow your own heart. And you two, Tommy, Ellie. It is not my fault that you two decided to ignore her during those times. And you know what? It is not Joel’s fault either. Both of you could’ve just remained friends with her and kept her company. Heck, Maria did. And yet, you two CHOSE not to, because it would make YOU uncomfortable. And now that she’s gone and you feel guilty for treating her like shit, you want to blame ME??? Blame Joel???” she continued, her voice raised slightly.

“I am done being quiet about this. I am sorry I hesitated to take the shot, because I couldn’t bear to think that I might have killed the love of Joel Miller’s life. I replay that scene in my head all the time. Would I have done anything different knowing what I know now? Maybe. But can I do anything about it? No!!! do I feel guilty that she died as a direct result of my hesitance? Yes. I do. Okay? I lay awake at night wishing I could take it back, but I can’t. So, I have to accept that I will live with this guilt every single day of my life, but guess what? I will live with that because I own up to my mistakes. You know why? Because I am an adult. So, I am done being held accountable for what you three CHOSE to do to spare yourselves some discomfort. Take responsibility for your own actions damn it. Grow up!”

With that, Tess took a very deep breath, and very calmly turned around, and walked off. Joel walked into the cottage and shut the door. Tommy and Ellie looked as if they had been slapped across the face. They slowly put down the tools they were using and walked home.

That night, Joel had another nightmare. Annie and Sarah were sitting in that same fenced yard, having delicate sandwiches and tea, laughing and chatting freely. Their faces were so light, so calm, so happy. Joel longed to join them but couldn’t. Each time he got over a fence, another one appeared, and no matter how much he yelled at them to let them know he was there, they couldn’t hear him. He was on the outside looking in on the two people he had loved the most. The two people he had lost and grieved for. He woke up sweating, feeling their loss all over again, his heart heavy with guilt and remorse.

As the weeks went by, Tommy and Ellie kept up with their routine of visiting Joel. Both muttered their apologies to him for blaming him for their silence towards Annie. Joel didn’t respond. Tess hadn’t attempted to visit again, giving Joel some space, but Maria told Joel that Tommy and Ellie had started communicating with her again, albeit awkwardly.

One day, just as Joel shut the door behind him after a day of cleaning the yard and chopping some wood, a gentle knock on the door came. He didn’t answer, but he heard someone settle against the door. Tess’s voice came through.

“Joel, I accept if you never want to speak to me again, if you see me as the reason for your treatment of her. There is nothing I can do about that. I need you to know that I did not mean for her to go. Joel, I have always known you don’t feel the way I do. I cannot force you to love me. I just wish you would’ve told me about her. I would’ve understood. And now…” she trailed off.

“Maria told me of the old farmhouse at the end of the Jackson perimeter. I just came here to tell you that I am moving there today. I think that’s better for me, you know? The town seems friendlier now, but I feel like this is for the best. But if you ever need a friend to talk to… Even if we don’t work as a couple Joel, I will always care about you, and I hope you feel the same for me at least.”

“Joel, I know what it feels like to kill the love of your life. When my husband and son turned… I had to… so I know… you know this. Don’t let this be the reason you stop living Joel. The guilt will never go away, but if you try, perhaps one day it won’t consume you the way it does now. She’s gone. Sarah’s gone. But you are still here. Find your purpose Joel. Ellie needs you. Tommy needs you. The town needs you. So, heal Joel. And when you are even a little bit better than you are right now, join the world again. I didn’t know her apart from the small exchanges here and there, but from what I’ve been told, she seemed like a sweet person. She wouldn’t want you to live like this, I’m sure of it. Because she loved you. And you don’t want to see the people you love sad forever, Joel. Just… think about it. I’m so sorry things didn’t turn out better. But, if you need an old friend, you know where to find me.”

With a small grunt, Tess got up and left, her backpack on her shoulders.

After she left, Joel resigned himself to the fact that he would never again be as happy as he was, that his sleep would forever be plagued with Annie’s happy face that would never acknowledge him again. That his heart would never be full again. That he would be punishing himself for his cowardice forever. He knew that. Joel had made his bed in the most fucked up, cowardly, selfish and emotionless way. There was nothing for him to do, except lie in it.

So, Joel lived alone, with his own thoughts, living but dead inside, forever mourning for his love. And that’s the way it went for Joel Miller.

***

In the small town of Jackson, there was an abandoned house, a once idyllic, fairy-tale-looking cottage at the end of the row of houses. Rumor had it, a grumpy, moody and gruff old man called Joel Miller lived his last years there, mourning the life he let slip through his fingers. Every day, Joel Miller would tend to his garden, go out on patrol, go tend to people’s houses when they need fixing, and go back to this cottage to spend the rest of his evenings sitting on his porch. Sometimes, his brother Tommy and daughter Ellie would come join him, their children in tow. Although Joel spared smiles for his nephew and grandson, the rest of the town never saw him smile. Ladies offered themselves to him, only to be rebuffed. They said that he broke a lady’s heart once, and she died before he could confess his true feelings for her.