#and now almost EVERYONE in this town is a zombie

[plant-sim]

THEN as Emit decided it was getting late and time to travel back to the future, a freakin ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE started right in the middle of the bar

[chirpsythismorning]

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Zombie!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Zombie!Ghost, Reader

Summary: Being on the run from the undead doesn't leave much time for more intimate things, but once things start to settle a little an ache begins to form that you havent felt in a long time. What will you do when the only other person you are with is your former lover turned zombie.

Word Count: 4.8 k

Warnings:

Author's Note: here it is as requested. I hope I did it justice. Happy Halloween 🎃

You’d been on the run for months now, never stopping as hordes of the undead nipped away at any temporary calm would you seek to have. It wasn’t easy always having to look over your shoulder, wondering when you were going to get ambushed again or if you’d get overrun and you’d have to make your final stand in a blaze of glory. Something like that isn’t supposed to become normal, but after over a year of living in hell you kind of get used to it… Kind of.

That first month was the hardest since you had been completely on your own because in the chaos and confusion of that first wave as the everything fell apart, including the 141 you were stationed with, you’d gotten separated from everyone. Hiding in the sewers, scavenging for food like some kind of rat, it was torture. But then you came across someone you thought you’d never see again: Ghost.

He was holed up alone in an abandoned farmhouse back in the thick of the woods a town over from the base. What should have been a reunion with someone you knew was thrown off by the fact that he had in fact been turned into one of the undead. Out of everyone that you could have run into, why him? You two had history, the kind where intimate details were something that you shared, and now you were both thrust together once again only this time there were bigger things at stake other than if you’d get caught fooling around by the captain.

The strange thing was that even though Ghost had been fully transformed by the infection, it was not what you expected. You realized quickly that Ghost had kept most of his humanity, though the more finer details of his person were scrambled by the disease. Even though he could not speak anymore due to the fact that his jaw was broken, Ghost was still inside there. And the strangest part of it all was that he remembered you.

It wasn’t like anything you had seen from the horde of mindless undead and so instead of facing the unknown alone again, you decided to stick with him. For over a year you two stayed side by side and although you did not come across any others of the task force, it was enough to just have one another.

Honestly he wasn’t a terrible companion, though a bit of conversation would have been nice. Still, having him with you had its perks. Being one amongst the walking corpses had great benefits and Ghost used them to their full capability to keep you safe so that after a time, even though the world still sat in ruin, you two were not doing too bad. At least you were able to stay in place for more than a day now.

That’s where you found yourself, shacked up in a two story cottage you had found almost untouched and secluded in the middle of the woods. It was easy enough to make secure, as secure as you could having limited supplies, but apart from a few stray corpses stumbling by there wasn’t much action. That anxiety riddled tension that you had held in your chest for over a year began to ease and with that came old stirrings that you hadn’t felt since before the world collapsed.

An old familiar ache brought on by being near someone who you used to share such things with, the one that leaves you begging to be quenched, wormed its way back into your life and now that you had more time on your hands it was becoming a major problem.

You see, adrenalin has a funny way of fucking with your head: heightening your senses, making your pulse race, everything feels so much more intense. You were only human, one who still had needs which had not been met in so fucking long that you couldn’t even remember what it felt like to be touched by another and so having your blood always rushing and your skin tingling, how could you stop yourself from giving in to that most basic of temptations?

It was a shame that Ghost wasn’t an option now; you would liked to have him one more time as the world burned, but there was no way no… right?

So, instead, one evening after the perimeter had been secured and the doors re-bolted, the windows rechecked and the traps restrung, that ache reached its peak and you had to do something before it got in the way of staying safe. Sneaking off to the bedroom you had claimed for yourself upstairs, you allowed that overwhelming need to finally overtake you.

Leaving the door slightly ajar so that you could still be alert to any stray sounds, you laid down on the cushioned surface of the mattress, your pulse racing rapidly in your chest at the prospect of doing this. You made quick work of your jeans, unbuttoning them and pulling down the zipper only enough so that you could access that throbbing between your thighs. Clamping your mouth shut in an effort to keep quiet you slid your hand down the front of your pants, down all the way until you reached your sex. 

A whimper filled your mouth that you choked back down; the last thing you needed was to alert a horde with your desperate cries as you worked yourself. It may have been a while, but you knew exactly what to do and extending your middle finger you split yourself open to find your clit, another whimper rising in your throat as you made the connection and began to draw tight circles around the bundle of nerves.

It was hard not to get worked up so fast as that remembered pleasure filled your mind and snaked its way through your limbs to make your body vibrate and as you stroked that pulsing bean you were brought back to those times when you and Ghost used to get lost in that ecstasy together. You couldn’t be blamed for where your mind wandered, not when you had to be near the one person who knew how to draw your pleasure from you, even if he couldn’t do it anymore.   

Before you knew it, you had flipped yourself onto your stomach and then onto knees to ride your fingers, hips grinding away as you imagined him underneath you. Fuck, the way he used to look staring back up at you with those hungry copper eyes, hands greedily clinging around the meat of your hips as he shoved you down harder onto his cock before he would inevitably flip you onto your back to pound into you; it was enough to make you salivate with need, but still you tried to keep quiet.

You thought yourself sneaky, keeping things to a minimum as you desperately drew out your release, but Ghost was not the same man he was when he was alive. His senses were different now, enhanced like a wild animal’s by the infection that took his life and made him into something entirely new. As he stood in the living room, staring blankly out the window to watch for any signs of undead, something caught his attention.

The scent of pheromones were on the air, enticing him forward to the upstairs. He followed it all the way to the back bedroom, your room. Slowly, silently, creeping towards the door, Ghost peered unblinking through the slit to watch you up on your knees on top of your bed, your pants hanging slack around your hips while your ass point upward towards the door. That motion, he knew it; that back and forth sway of your hips over top of your bed. 

There was another fragrance on the air now, something more familiar. Taking a deep breath, his heightened sense of smell caught the scent of your natural lubrication currently soaking your fingers and it awoke something deep within him like a fire in chest akin to what an animal feels when it goes into heat. His slack mouth began to unconsciously salivate as ingrained memories surfaced, flashes of remembered sensations from times when he too enjoyed such pleasures. Inherent, primal, a reaction as innate as breathing.  

It was then that he became acutely aware of a tightness growing down below and instinctually he cupped his hand around it, rubbing the growing bulge against his chilly palm. Was he actually getting hard? That was surprising as anyone would have expected that to not happen anymore; he had retained much of his humanity, but he had not had the time until now to explore all the facets of what that entailed.

The more he rubbed the more it grew until the front of his pants tented out near the zipper, straining so hard against the fabric that he had to wonder if he could pop the closure without even trying. God, it felt…amazing.

“Fuck, Simon,” he caught the whispered hiss through the silence as you pressed your body down harder onto the bed, onto your fingers, and it sent a shiver up his spine. The way you said that name he hadn’t heard in so long, in that desperate way almost as a plea to your lust to fulfill its unspoken promise and wash that euphoric feeling over you, caused memories to violently resurface. He had heard that before in just that exact way- from you.

Scattered and disjointed memories of you beneath him burst into his minds eye, brought back to life by the sound of your voice: you writhing with eyes closed, your skin glistening with perspiration in the pale light of a dimly lit room, bare breasts bouncing up and down with each of his strong thrusts, crying his name into the silence as you came.

If breathing was something he was still required to do those lungs would be heaving by now to bring in enough air as he was so worked up that he would surely be panting. His hand gripped tighter now around the head of his cock, stroking with more purpose now as his dilated pupils followed the curve of your back all the down to your ass to watch it bob up and down.

The pace of his hand quickened to match your rocking as if fucking you by proxy, stroking through his clothes while transfixed on you. Goddamn he wished he could remember the way you felt wrapped around him, but that sensation had been lost when he succumbed to the disease. All he could do was watch and enjoy the way your body looked while your movements became more sloppy as the warmth gathered in the pit of your stomach, that delicious heat that you had not felt in so long.

“Yes, yes,” you mewled under your breath while your thighs clenched around your hand as you were so close. You brought in another finger to join the first one and with both you slipped them inside your entrance; it was nothing like the way Ghost could fill you out, but it would have to do.

Bearing down hard while you kept the pace steady, your breathing more erratic, you finally reached the peak and spilled violently over the edge, tumbling down as your body writhed and jerked through the overwhelming intensity of that first orgasm. You stifled your cries as much as you could inside your mouth, but they still reached an unknown listener who nearly came himself if he had not had to move quick before being spotted.

…and that left him very frustrated…   

You fell onto the mattress, removing your fingers from your pussy as you breathed out a sigh of contented relief. It hadn’t been clear just how much you needed that until you came and fuck did you feel on cloud nine now. As you rolled over onto your stomach to stare up at the ceiling while you rode out the wave of your euphoric high, you swore you heard a series of strange movement just outside your door; a soft few taps that sounded like they were getting farther away which would have been out of place, but the house you were currently boarded up in was old and so you convinced yourself it was nothing.

Besides, if anything was truly wrong, Ghost would have already alerted you by now. 

It was several minutes you just laid there in the silence before you took one last deep breath to calm yourself as you got up to straighten your clothing and re-buttoned your pants, hoping that your self-pleasuring session had gone completely unnoticed to your companion as you headed back down stairs to double check that everything was still secure.

In his usual spot you found him standing, always watching with that unblinking gaze, but as you stepped into the living room his sight was immediately drawn to you. “Hey,” you greeted him, “everything still okay out there?”

The usual grunted reply was returned and you stepped over to where he stood, just to take a look for yourself. It didn’t hurt to have another set of eyes to catch things and you felt more comfortable checking for yourself anyway. Scanning the area outside you saw nothing out of place, but as you pulled back from the window you were met with those cold eyes directly staring at you.

Silently Ghost’s large hand came up to touch your cheek, rubbing his thumb across a certain flush pooling there that drew his curiosity and he grunted with a nod of his head at it. You diverted your gaze, suddenly self-conscious about how warm they were still, like a fucking beacon calling attention to what it was you were doing upstairs; not that you cared, but shit you didn’t need your business plastered all over your face like that.

“It’s nothing,” you reassured him with a chuckle. “Just got a bit warm I guess. I promise I’m not infected or anything like that.”

Fully expecting him to take you at your word you went to move over to the sofa, but his hand clung to the side of your face to keep you in your place. You tilted your head as he shook his own side to side slowly. 

“What? Don’t believe me?” you picked, slightly concerned about this strange development; he had not acted in such a way before and you did not know if it was a part of the infection or not. 

Again he shook his head before his eyeline lowered down your body until his sight stopped at the crotch of your pants. Shit, had he heard you? Could he smell the trace amounts cum still clinging to your cunt? There was no real way to tell, but the way his eyeline kept drifting down before meeting your own again was enough to indicate that he was aware of what you had just done. 

You cleared your throat. “You know what I was doing, don’t you?” you asked and was met with another nod, this time to the affirmative.

Well, nothing to do about it now; what was the point of denying it? “Look, I just… needed something to take the edge off okay?” you spurted out. “I mean fuck, I still have needs, even if they had to be put on the back burner for a bit while we tried not to get overrun. You of all people should know how I get sometimes. At least I was quiet enough not to cause problems for us.”

Ghost looked back at you with those milky white eyes, but there was something behind them, something that you recognized, something… yearning. Suddenly you were aware that his other hand was on your hip now, tracing sloppy circles around the soft warm skin just under the hem of your shirt. 

Goddamn the familiarity of his fingers lingering over old paths they used to take in times almost forgotten; if you closed your eyes, it was like you were right there back with him. Your chest was tight with the increased thumping of your heartbeat in your throat, the air not filling up your lungs as well now as he pulled you in a little closer to him until your bodies were against one another. 

That was when you felt something against your thigh.

“Can you…?” you risked asking the question. No, there was no way that he could still get hard, right? Right? 

A large, cold hand wrapped around your wrist and brought it down to his crotch where he rested your palm against it and to your surprise the bulge in his pants responded to your touch. Your eyes shot back up to his as your breathing hitched. 

“Fuck,” you murmured and was promptly met with a grunt from him followed by a deep chuckle. 

Perhaps it was the history, the knowledge of what his body used to give you; perhaps it was the need that you had not truly quenched fully yet; perhaps it was your memories that you’d used as you touched yourself; or maybe it was as simple as you still wanted him; whatever the reason it didn’t matter. All you knew was that you couldn’t stop yourself from wanting more of what you started upstairs.  

Hesitantly your fingers grasped at his shirt, slowly tugging at the seam as if to silently ask to be allowed to remove it. Never letting his gaze waiver, Ghost raised his arms and allowed you to pull it up and off over his head. His body was just as you remembered, though quite a bit more pale and the flesh discolored in places, but all the lines and bumps, scars and imperfections were the same and as you ran those delicate fingertips over his skin it all came flooding back.

This is crazy, you told yourself. But it was the end of the world after all, why not go out with a bang?

“It’s been a while,” you said, gaze taking him all in. “God, you always did make my heart race just taking off your shirt, ya know.”

“Uhh,” he grunted in agreement. 

The contrast in body temperature between you both was stark and he enjoyed the warm, tingling feeling your finger left behind wherever they went. He had not felt such a phenomenon in so long that it was like lightening striking inside his mind as nerve endings reignited. It went the same with his pants as you undid them to let them hang loosely around his hips.

Following your lead, he helped you out of your shirt as well so that you stood bare chests facing one another. Your nipples were already hardening as they hit the cool air and he ran a fingertip over the tiny rosebuds to feel them. You were perfection, a sight of decadent flesh that fueled that hungry need he had to abruptly cut off before and the more he stared the more it grew.

The couch sat just behind you and taking your hand in his he moved the few steps over it to take a seat. Grabbing onto your hips and turning you around, he pulled you down onto his lap to sit on top of him. That throbbing bulge barely covered by the pants slipping off him was straining even harder now and you had to open your legs so that it could comfortably stand at attention in between them.

Situated on him you leaned your warm, bare back against his chest, those muscles that you knew by touch alone were now clammy, yet still familiarly fit against you just as they always had. Ghost took those stiff, cold fingers and ran them slowly down the line of your neck to your chest, around the tissue of your breast and down still to the curve of your hip. 

Being touched that way by another, by him, after so fucking long made your skin tingle and you leaned your head back against his shoulder to close your eyes and simply enjoyed the icy prickles his fingers created. He brought those fingers back up all the winding way to your throat and then back down again, except he did not stop at your hip this time. 

Lower he walked those decaying digits into your lap, then inside the waistband of your jeans, and then all the way down until he was inside your panties. You didn’t try to stop him, instead letting your knees fall open to give him more access. The further he went the more he could feel just how warm you were, the damp heat radiating off your cunt and into his pulse-less palm as he cupped his hand around your sex.

“Christ,” you exclaimed in shock as your body jolted against him, your pussy still a good bit sensitive from before. 

“Uhhh,” he groaned in response, intrigued by how much he enjoyed causing such a visceral reaction and wanting to replicate it. 

Again your scent filled his nostrils, those delicious pheromones that he had caught a whiff of earlier, and it began to awaken something primal within him. Taking his fingers, he drug them heavily over the slit of your cunt until they slipped between your petals and into that still dripping core. Again your body jolted into him as those thick fingers rubbed the length until he found what he had unconsciously been searching for: a small bundle towards the top. 

“Ugh,” that deep groan was more breathless this time, as if he were enjoying the feeling of your juices coating his fingers.  

Cool fingers began stroking against your clit with a rhythm that was ingrained in him from past experience and it was like falling right back into old habits. Your hips started to roll over his hand as they were want to do in response to his movements so that it was like a dance of give and take and he had to wrap an arm around your waist to keep you from slipping, but it was worth it to feel the way your body moved.

Like an animal a strange compulsion awakened inside, enhanced by the disease coursing through his veins, and the untamed part of his new nature was flooded with the need to rut into you. The more music you made, the more it filled his chest until the sensation became too much to quell. 

With a growl he moved you both to the floor in a rush, ripping your jeans off of you in one strong tug before pushing you forward and pulling your hips up so that you had to get on your knees. He too knelt behind you as he shoved the fabric of his clothing down enough to release his engorged cock and taking both of your hips into his preternatural grasp, so firm that his fingertips made the muscle sting, he aligned the head with your slit. 

This was crazy, highly dangerous, and slightly insane, but you couldn’t stop, not with how your body felt being pleasured for the first time in well over a year by someone who knew it. Whatever the consequences you’d deal with them later, right now you just needed to be filled to the brim with everything he had. 

Instinct knew what to do and slipping through your petals a few times, he rested the head against your opening and with a strong thrust shoved himself inside as far as he could go. Goddamn you had forgotten the actual feeling of how big he was, but there must be something in being undead that made him even more engorged because his girth almost more than the walls of your pussy could handle. Fuck, you were so full of him that when he finally pulled out of you it would feel so goddamn empty it would physically hurt.

You were aware that his cool palm was on your back now, running up the length of your spine to just between your shoulders where Ghost stopped to shove your top half down further into the ground so that your ass would rise more and without more of pause he began to thrust in and out of you furiously. Each stroke stretched you out more until the sting subsided and that was left was the satisfying euphoria that comes with being filled so full.

“Simon,” you moaned out his name and a dormant part of his brain lit up. Hearing it for the first time upstairs was nice, but being inside of you as you breathed life into that moniker was the highest level of ecstasy he had experienced yet.

And he need more. “UH,” he growled with force as he slammed into you from behind to make your ass bounce off of his hips. 

You braced your hands under your head to steady yourself, but it did little; the man inside of you was gone and all you could do was hang on. Still, even with his roughness, the way his cock still reached those desperate nerve endings inside of you made the arch of your back even more pronounced. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” you choked out the exclamation as your voice vibrated from the impacts. 

Harder and faster Ghost pounded your pussy from behind, throwing caution to the wind as he grunted and groaned like a beast on the hunt about to capture a fresh kill. You were so fucking warm, so gorgeously wet, that even his dead skin felt reanimated so that each brush of your body against him had him reeling in pleasure. 

This was the closest he would get to feeling like a living thing again.

Stopping suddenly he ripped his cock out of you amidst your begging protests to flip you onto your back, brutishly pulling your ass onto his knees. Your thighs rested high around his torso, squeezing against him as he immediately thrust back into that warm, wet hole and expeditiously returned to that overwhelming rhythm. 

The room was filled with the wet, sticky music of your bodies slapping against each other as Ghost worked your hole for all it was worth with a reckless abandon that you had not seen in him before. This wasn’t love, not something tender, but only pure animalistic lust and the more he stroked in and out of you the more he needed.

And then he felt it; a warmth in his stomach like he had swallowed coals. It started faint, almost indistinguishable until it had nearly filled him full the more he kept going. 

He couldn’t stop, he couldn’t back down, he was so close he could taste it. You weren’t far off either, nearly at the peak of your second orgasm the harder his cock stroked in and out of you, stimulating your clit along with it just from the pressure of his thrusts. 

“Shit, don’t stop,” you pleaded pathetically to him, your toes curling into the air as you focused on your breathing. Right there, it was right there; all he had to do was keep going.   

A few more pumps of him deep in your core and that was it, like a hot flash of white light you cried out in shaky whimpers as your orgasm tore through with such force you shot up as your back arched and your hips bucked harshly into him. “Goddammit Simon, fuck.”

He wasn’t far behind as the warmth that had been building finally shot through his body, coursing like a burning river of fire through his veins as he ripped his cock out of you and through your thighs to cover your stomach in his milky white semen. The roar he released while he drained his cock dry over top of you rang out through the house like a wild animal’s cry until he hung limply over top of you, completely spent.

Everything lay still once again as you caught your breath, allowing your ecstasy to run its course before you even tried to move out from against him. As you came to sit up, once again you were met with his eyes watching you closely. It felt like he was admiring his handiwork: the flush in your cheeks, the sweat speckling your torso, the exhaustion in your limbs. 

He had done that…and he liked it.

You flashed him a genuine smile. “Well, that was something wasn’t it?” you laughed and he chuckled deadoan along with you. 

Maybe the end of the world didn’t have to be so bad after all. At least, now you both knew that there were ways to have a little fun… and oh fuck, were you going to keep having little bits of fun.

[luveline]

maybe for zombie Steve au, there’s some sort of emergency at the college so there’s like a lockdown ish but Steve & reader get split up & then have an emotional reunion? 🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

thank you so much for your request! I took a smide of inspo from scenes of twd (specifically when the prison fence gets it shit rocked) steve zombie!au ♥︎ fem!reader 5k words

"And you…" You pause, tongue sticking out as you struggle to tuck your shirt into your jeans. "You smoked?" 

Steve laughs where he's shrugging into his own jeans. You're both very late. 

"Everyone smoked junior year." 

"I didn't." 

"No, of course you didn't," he says, laughing more. It's a nice sound to hear so early in the morning. You can almost pretend you're well-rested. 

"I didn't," you say emphatically, leaning against the wall by the door to slip on your sneakers. 

It doesn't matter if you're telling the truth, Steve clearly doesn't believe you. He mirrors your actions and puts on his own pair of sneakers. They were white, once upon a time, but now they're a gritty grey. You stand tall in unison and pull open the door.

"Wait," Steve says. 

He brushes your hair out of your face, looking over each of your features casually before his fingers dip down to your belt. You startle on instinct, though he's only fixing the mess you'd made of your tucked shirt. His fingers push under your belt methodically, efficiently. In less than a minute he's done. 

Neither of you bother with a jacket. Steve pockets the keys and the door locks behind you, the two of you half jogging out of Little Hawkins to the front of the building. 

"I'll be at the north fence all day, okay, so if you need me, come and find me. You're–" 

"In the pantry where I always am," you say, "and I'll be fine, so you don't let anything bite you and I'll see you at dinner." 

"Wait, wait, wait," Steve says, catching your wrist before you can part ways. 

He pulls you in by the arm until he can grab your shoulders. He does altogether too much looking, eyes raking over your face, your neck. He meets your eyes, cups your cheek in both hands. 

"I love you," he says quickly, "I love you," —he kisses you wonky, lips way too close to your nose, "I love you. See you at dinner." 

He's sick in the head. He doesn't give you any time to answer or bestow the heaping of affection he deserves, simply splits and power walks away from you.

You sigh, wringing your hands together. "Steve! I– I love you too!" 

He turns around, his smile ridiculously big, and waves at you. You wave back. 

He races out of view. You try not to make eye contact with the people milling around outside of the dorm building and pick up the pace, running down the street to the cafeteria building. 

The town hall is alive in the mornings, and class is in session, more kids than you'd ever expected to see again in your lifetime all bundled up in one room. You think it's nice, the way they teach them here. They don't bother with algebra or arithmetic, though Sammy the 'teacher' offers tutoring to anybody who wants it, they just draw and play and talk about emotional wellbeing. Sometimes there are survival classes, but they don't really talk about geeks. They show the kids what wild flora is edible, or how to wrap a cut. You think it's probably more for routine than actual teaching. 

"Hi, Sammy," you say. 

She smiles, and you're horrified as she says, "Hi, baby. Class, say good morning." 

All the kids say good morning to you. You flush with heat from top to bottom. Their cute little faces beaming up at you is an instant disarming. 

"Hi, kids," you say, waving. 

Hands holding crayons and pencils wave back at you. 

You make your way into the kitchen, which is a huge industrial affair connected to an otherwise small cafeteria. Maybelle and Pauline are already inside cleaning up the leftover breakfast and preparing for community dinner. 

Breakfast is specifically for the people inside the community who can't manage to make it themselves, the disabled, the injured, the elderly, but dinner is for everybody. 

"Sorry I'm late," you say. 

"Hun, we don't care," Maybelle says. 

"Did you want breakfast?" Pauline asks. "I'm gonna wrap this up otherwise. Somebody's gonna eat it."  

It sounds like a threat. You take some of the breakfast they've set aside, which isn't a breakfast food at all, just boxed mac and cheese that tastes slightly stale. You barely notice it anymore, though the texture gives you the heebies. 

You move into the pantry and check everything still there, the easiest and most useless part of your job. Then, Maybelle and Pauline try to put together a meal that's both cost effective (the cost being the energy expended to retrieve the food, and the likelihood that this food will be seen again) and not disgusting. Oftentimes they have to make a bunch of different stuff that doesn't go together, but it's better than nothing. You like this a whole lot more than if they just gave everybody a can a day and said there's your lot. 

You mark down the things they've taken. You mark down things you might need in Hopper's next supply rub. It's a super cushy job, the kind that isn't strictly necessary, but there are a lot of people in the community and the majority are willing to do what needs to be done. They ran out of jobs quickly, and you're sure Hopper had felt a little sorry for you, so here you are. You're not like Steve. You're not a survivor. You're lucky. 

You sit down after a while, no use pretending you have anything left to do, left side pressed to the side of the industrial oven. 

"You know, we used to live in Mississippi?" Pauline asks you. 

"What?" you ask. 

"Mm-hm, we were only in Michigan for vacation, if you can believe it. We had a good time." 

"Before, the uh, the apocalypse," Maybelle says with a tittering laugh. "We were hiking in the Porcupine Mountains when some dude tried to bite me. We thought he had rabies." 

The room smells like jarred pasta bake, a rich, garlic-thick smell that threatens to make your eyes droop. In the cafeteria, through the open shutters, you can hear the kids singing. Sammy hates nursery rhymes, so they learn the words of old songs by Louis Armstrong. Today, they're a discordant, too fast chorus of What a Wonderful World. It's a racket.  

But no matter how loud the kids sings, they can't cover the reverberations of a gunshot. 

A hush falls in the kitchen.

You stand up. You aren't panicked, exactly. More like you've stepped into a heavy overcoat, trepidation a weight that settles like a second skin. You move to stand by the sink with Maybelle. She pushes it open, and the three of you stare outside. 

Trees rustle in the wind. The kids descend into giggles as Matthew, one of the rare teenagers who deigns to join in, busts out a Louis Armstrong impression, his voice deep and bending. The oven hums. 

The second gunshot sounds. After that, you can't count them. 

Maybelle slams the window closed and twists the handle down to lock it. 

Your heart beats. None of you know what to say. Your pulse bumps, and bumps, and bumps. 

"Lock the doors," Maybelle says. "Lock the windows. Just in case." 

Gunfire comes fast and ferocious as a sudden downpour, popping in the near distance. Your footsteps clip over the linoleum floor, firm rubber soles like an elastic band as you bound into the cafeteria and meet Sammy's eyes. 

The kids are perturbingly quiet. 

"I'm gonna lock the doors," you say tentatively. 

Dread fills her face. "Okay. Alright." 

You fizz around the room, locking the front and side entrances one after another. You're thinking so many things at once that you can't seem to focus on any, and instead your attention is drawn to the inconsequential. How cold the metal on the door's emergency push bars are. The colouring books on the floor. 

You're standing in front of the last door with shaking hands as it gets thrown open. You gasp and scrabble backwards, hands in front of your chest to protect yourself. 

It's Joyce. Breathless, red in the face Joyce. 

"Lock the kids in the kitchen," she says. "The north fence has a leak. They're getting in." 

—

Steve is not having the good day he thought he'd be getting. 

You'd been exceptionally pretty this morning, tired eyed and disorientated but adorable through and through. You and Steve have fallen into a routine, and you talk so much it's a surprise your throats aren't sore. There's so much to say and never enough time to say it; you've taken to trading stories in the morning while you get dressed. Today was Steve's turn. He'd told you all about his birthday party during junior year, how his dad had almost killed him because somebody left a hole in the wall, and how he still can't eat Dunkin' Donuts without feeling queasy. You'd asked him when the last time he actually got to eat a donut was, and it hadn't been sad, like you might expect. 

He'd said, "I don't need any extra sweetness, are you kidding? Got all my sugar right here." 

You'd laughed at him (not with him) and nearly choked on toothpaste. 

That's a perfect morning for Steve. That's as good as they get. It might be silly, but he'd felt damn good, and foolishly tricked himself into thinking the rest of the day might be similarly great. 

"You're a fool, Harrington," he mutters to himself. 

"What was that?" 

Steve looks up. Jonathan and Christopher are staring at him. 

"He's going crazy," Christopher says. "Best take him out to the back shed." 

"Funny." Steve kicks the dirt in front of him. "So bored I'm talking to myself," he admits. 

"It could be worse," Jonathan says. "We could be on latrine duty." 

Steve would rather not think about latrine duty. God bless the communal bathroom in Little Hawkins. 

The day is breezy but surprisingly warm, not a cloud in the sky. The sun bears down and heats Steve's skin in waves. He likely should've stopped for his jacket this morning, but he'd been super late. He doesn't want a citation. Another citation. 

This is the slowest day they've ever seen on fence duty. Usually the general hubbub of the community catches the attention of a handful of geeks, and fence duty stabs them through the brain with lethally modified crowbars. It's gross, but it's necessary. It keeps you safe. Yet today they haven't seen a single undead. 

"Maybe they're dying," Christopher says. 

"They're already dead," Jonathan says. 

"How do you know? You felt for a pulse?" 

"They decompose," Jonathan says, laughing softly. "They're corpses." 

"I'm just saying." Christopher shrugs. 

Steve ignores them both without malice, staring through the section of chain link fence he's standing in front of and out into the streets. The north side of The College faces the surrounding town. From here, he can see a pharmacist's building, a sandwich shop, and a small veterinary clinic. Shells of cars long dismantled line the road. Natural works to reclaim them slowly, tires threaded with long grass. A few days ago, a deer ran straight up to the fence and stared at him. He promised you he'd come and find you next time, even though you hadn't really minded. He wants you to see it. There's more out there than just geeks and bad people. 

He shivers and fiddles with the holster on his hip, checking for the tenth time in as many minutes that the gun held within has the safety mechanism on. He really doesn't wanna shoot himself in the foot. That would majorly suck, though, he thinks, you'd look after him. That might make it worth it. 

Not that he'd shoot himself in the foot for your attention, that would be totally backwards. But he thinks you'd look cute as a nurse, with the little hat— 

"Do you hear that?" Jonathan asks. 

Steve pulls away from his questionable thoughts and turns to see his kind of friend. Jonathan stands with his nose to the fence, straight brown hair curling at the bottom of his neck. He needs a trim, but who is Steve to judge? 

"Hear what?" Steve asks. 

Though you can see the town through the gaps, the fences are blanketed by trees. Old trees with thick trunks, the kind that protesters would chain themselves to if the government ever suggested cutting them down. The ground around them is more dirt than grass, like the packed earth under the fence and Steve's shoes.

He assumes Jonathan's talking about the creaking of a thousand branches in the wind. Brown and orange leaves fall in droves, crinkly and scratchy as they litter the floor. 

"I can't hear anything," Steve says. 

"It sounds like a car engine," Jonathan says. 

Steve cannot agree. Now that the world is silent, car engines sound like jet planes. They shake the ground. There are no vibrations to be felt, but… there is something. 

"I'm gonna walk the perimeter," Steve says. A creeping unease takes shape over his shoulders like the winding suffocation of a python. He can feel the pressure of it against his throat. 

It's nothing, he thinks to himself. 

Sections of street flash between the trees. Tree, empty street. Tree, empty street. Each tree blocks the sun, and goosebumps erupt over his skin, the hairs on his arms standing up with each footstep into the dimness. Steve pulls his crowbar close to his chest. 

I'm paranoid, he promises himself, even as the strange sound Jonathan had heard begins to rise. He knows what it is, he knows, but he doesn't want to know. The wet suck of meat being pulled off the bone, and the dry rattle of lungs that won't fill. He lets the sun kiss his cold face for a moment, and then he stops behind the cover of a huge sycamore tree and leans, carefully, slowly, to the left. 

The sun hasn't warmed the sparse grass. Each blade is frosted into spikes. The leaf litter has turned to mulch, disturbed and churned by the body splayed open atop it. Blood emulsifies the dirt, a black mud that covers the hands, arms, knees, and mouths of a sizable herd. 

Steve flinches backward, covers his nose to shield himself from the stink, and swiftly presses stiff fingers over his mouth to stop himself chucking up. 

There must be fifty or more geeks huddled there, fighting for scraps of ligament, falling over chunks of inedible veel.

Steve wants to retreat quietly. His hands have other ideas. 

He drops the crowbar, fumbling for it with every centimetre it falls, and ends up knocking it a couple feet away with a horrified gasp. 

The fences are hammered into the ground so they can't be moved, but there aren't many fence posts between sections. Flimsy chain link is all that separates Steve and the herd. 

They look up. They start to move. 

Hands reach for him, hands force themselves through the holes of the fence, skin peeling back over muscle like the delicate rind of a pear. He watches in horror as the herd congregates, as the herd leans its collective weight against what's basically chicken wire, as dessicated flesh shaves off of their dead bodies, as the fence begins to bend. 

The geeks use each other like ladder, pulling and climbing, heaped like jenga tiles until a gnarled hand closes over the top of the fence. 

He wants to run. He needs to stay. He needs to separate them, he needs to thin the weight. He scrambles to take up his crowbar again, taking a step forward, but the tattle tale sound of metal scratching against metal squeals in his ear, and he leaps backward as the fence tips forward.

He should scream. 

He trips as he grabs the crowbar, palm aching as it smashes into the ground. He barely touches the floor, pushing himself back up and using his momentum to sprint toward the rendezvous point. 

"Jonathan!" he shouts, his voice strained. "They're over the fence. Section twenty one is coming down!" The fence has already come down, but Steve isn't thinking straight. 

Jonathan barely looks at Steve. He only needs one glance before he's looking past him. Steve looks back, too, and then he keeps on sprinting.

Jonathan unholsters his gun. Christopher does the same. 

Behind Steve, across the stretch of the college campus, a wave of geeks snap their gored maws. Steve runs harder than he's ever ran before, faster than he's ever moved, even faster than that night in the woods with you, scroungers on your tail, laughing and cussing, their flashlights shining at your heels like the beam of a prison guardhouse. 

Steve vaults himself over an overgrown hedge and right into the centre of the campus. There aren't many people out, but any at all is too many. 

"Get inside!" he shouts without explanation, shoes sliding over stone as he leaps for the civil defence siren nestled against the gym building. "Get inside! There are geeks inside the fence!" 

Jeremy and Dustin had jerry-rigged the broken siren months ago for situations like this to only play for two seconds. Not long enough to attract anything that isn't already here. Steve slams his hand into the button and stares up at it in a petrified awe as the siren begins to cry, one long and wailing wave of sound that careers over the community. 

It might be his imagination, but he thinks that the silence after it stops is imbued with impending doom. One empty, fragile moment, before the shouting begins, and the following pop of gunfire is impossible to ignore. 

He thinks of you in the kitchen across the quad. He thinks of running to you, of hiding you somewhere nobody will ever get to you. 

He runs back the way he came. 

—

All these little faces in disarray. You huddle amongst the youngest ones and try your best to keep them quiet, whispering a story as the sound of gunshots cracking over asphalt rivets the quiet. 

"Me and Steve, we saw all kinds of fish. We saw carp, and salmon, and koi fish in the lake. They looked like huge, gorgeous goldfish, they had–" everyone jumps as something close by takes a hit, a fence perhaps, split apart— "these huge black eyes and these popping mouths. You know how fish pop their lips together?" 

You look around the circle and beg one of them to answer. If Sammy weren't such a wicked shot she would've stayed and handled this a hell of a lot better than you are.

"I know," says one of the youngest girls. She can't be six years olds. 

"Yeah? How do they do it?" 

She starts to pop her lips. You grin despite your welling panic and nod encouragingly. You'd clap if your hands weren't full of smaller hands. 

"Yeah, like that! They were swimming so close to us, I could see their gills." 

Your story isn't true, but it is distracting. You hold their attention for as long as you can. Pauline stands in the doorway, eyes flitting between the three entrances to the cafeteria, and Maybelle haunts the sink, hiding just behind the other overhead spray to try and find out what's going on. The storm siren hasn't sounded again, and Hopper hasn't come around to tell you it's safe. 

It might never be safe again.

You swallow down the urge to scream and squeeze the tiny fingers curled over your palm. They belong to a little boy, white and brown-haired with pretty hooded eyes. He looks like Steve. 

You could've sworn, just before the siren, that you'd heard him yelling, but you'd raced to the sink and looked out and hadn't seen him. 

You can't help thinking about it. About everything — he could die. He could already be dead. Joyce swore she hadn't seen him, and had only managed to speak to Christopher, who'd split off to alert the older group. She said Jonthan was holding off a group of geeks. She couldn't stay, determined to go help him. 

So if Christopher was looking for Hopper, and Jonathan was by himself at the north fence, where was Steve? Where exactly was the leak? 

You lean forward toward the kids and whisper, "Does anyone else have a story? From a vacation?" 

"We went to Niagara Falls, once," Becky says. 

"You did? What was it like, huh? Was the waterfall really loud?" 

Becky starts to tell her story. You try to listen. You can't think of anything at all besides Steve, though your priority is keeping everybody here safe, your brain won't stop. You can't shake the feeling that you'll lose him, and it's a bright red branding behind your eyes. You're gonna lose him.

This can't be happening. 

It's been a month since Connor, an ex-member of The College with delusions of grandeur, dragged you underdressed and freezing through miles of forest with your wrists bound, wondering if you'd ever see Steve again. A month of nightmares and hot flashes and reaching out for Steve in the dark. 

You'd thought, if you died, if Connor killed you, that it would ruin Steve's life. He'd waste it looking for you. You'd thought that was the worst feeling in the world, knowing you'd leave him behind.

You hadn't understood what this part felt like. How Steve must've felt, wondering if you were dead. How he must've argued with himself as you do now. 

Steve hadn't hesitated. Robin mentioned it once, casual but earnest. Steve tore the place apart looking for you. He assembled a search party and went looking for you on a hunch. Steve says he's lucky they chose the right direction. You know it's more than that. You know you're the lucky one. 

He knew you were in danger, and he came to get you. 

"Maybelle," you say, standing up. "I'm gonna need a knife." 

— 

Steve isn't sure what the fuck they're doing. Hopper shouts instructions but they're confusing and nobody knows what's happening. Geek gore drips down his arm and he prays he doesn't have any broken skin as he ploughs the sharp of the crowbar deep into a grey mottled eye socket. 

It shucks out, the geek's body collapsing in a heap at his feet. Tens more stagger forward.

"Everyone should be inside, but that doesn't mean everyone is inside!" Hopper shouts, his booming voice echoing over the din of shots and slick stabbing. "We need to contain them. Joyce, Jonathan, I need you back here. Bernier, Taylor, McCoy, push for the fence! We need to get it back up and standing before this gets worse. Harrington!" 

Steve pierces the skull of an approaching geek like an eggshell, springing back before a second can tear a chunk out of him. "What?" he yells. 

"You should circle back to the quad, make sure there aren't any stragglers."

"Joyce already secured–" 

"It's up to you, kid." 

Steve appreciates what Hopper's doing. Everyone knows you and Steve are unhealthily dependent on one another right now considering the circumstances, and he'll admit that his heart wants literally nothing more than to be where you are. He thinks of you locked up in the kitchen with all this happening outside and hates it, but as long as you stay where you are, that's as safe as you can be. 

He doesn't bother saying yes or no, throwing himself back into the throng. 

It's the ultimate workout. Sweat stings his eyes, his brain pounds behind them. He has to stay vigilant and he has to be fast. He cuts down geeks with a practised agility, Bernier on one side, Taylor the other. They force their way to the fence, and soon there's a small army of survivors behind them, bullets burning his eardrum to the right. 

When the fence is finally in view again, they buckle down. 

It's a huge struggle. Hopper and Livingstone front a team of five of the older guys with a replacement fence on their literal shoulders. The woods are teaming with geeks who must have heard the gunfire and the siren. They cut down the old fence behind Steve and the youngers. The new one gets thrown up just as Steve spears a geek through the ear, hammers whacking into frozen earth with a sound like a car crash.

"Harrington, inside the perimeter!" 

Steve eyes an imminent geek but does as Hopper commands, weaselling through the single gap they've left behind. They finish the inner hammering and Hopper and Livingstone set about chaining the sections back together. 

Steve backs away from the fence and tries to catch his breath. He leans back and brushes the hair out of his eyes, chest heaving, eyes shuttering closed in relied. They survived it. They did exactly what they were supposed to do in this situation and the plan worked. 

Somebody takes the crowbar from his hand and he lets them, scrubbing both hands through his hair, scalp cool with sweat as a gale of wind blows. He looks up, and the sky has darkened, that rare morning sunshine nowhere to be seen. 

He opens his eyes. Christopher is sitting a ways away looking queasy. Joyce is hugging the life out of Jonathan, kissing his cheek, hand in his hair. Bernier and Taylor are stabbing the new wave of geeks. Steve isn't worried, there aren't a quarter as many as there had been. 

The smell is barbaric. 

"Don't relax too quickly, kid," Hopper says, "we still gotta round up the bodies." 

Steve laughs morosely, secretly pleased when Hopper pats him on the shoulder. His back fucking hurts and he stinks of gore and zombie gunk. Dead material somehow slimy and dry as bark at once, Steve wants a shower, and a hug from you, in that specific order. 

"You okay?" Jonathan asks him, squinting. There's blood splattered against his forehead. 

"They had to do this today?" Steve asks. "This is my favourite shirt. I'm never gonna get the guts out–" 

A scream splits the air. 

"The quad," Hopper announces. "Taylor, Bernier, keep going. Everyone else, with me." 

His blood ice in his veins, Steve runs with the rest of the group. He realises he's left his crowbar with Taylor and grimaces, pulling the gun from his holster and knocking off the safety mechanism. Steve isn't good with a gun. He only ever used one right at the start, when he hadn't known that sound to a geek is like a porch light to moths. That, and he'd run out of ammo. 

"Oh, goddammit." 

There's a crowd of geeks they must've missed around the side of the town hall. Hopper immediately starts yelling at a young teenager screaming in front of the gym to get back inside. 

Steve's okay, his heart's fine, and then he sees you. You're wrist deep in brains, surrounded by bodies and coated in a black spray of blood. It's in your hair, your eyebrows, all over your cheek and your shoulder. 

He nearly wrenches Livingstone off of his feet as he bursts forward to help you, gun raised and poised. He shoots and drives forward. One geek, two. Three, five, he loses count. He gets so close he can hear your panting breath, not panicked but struggling to keep going. 

"Fucker," he says, one geek left between you and safety. 

You scramble to the side. Steve shoots it point black in the back of the head. It falls down slow, and then it thunks against your shoes. 

You reach for him on automatic as you pull your feet from under him, treading over the soft of the geeks shoulders and into Steve's waiting arms. He holds the gun away from you to click on the safety, shoving it back into his borrowed holster. 

"You're okay?" you ask loudly. 

"I'm fine, what are you doing out here? You should've stayed inside the pantry." 

"Says who?" you ask, squeezing him so tightly he feels his skin bruising in the shapes of your arms. 

"Says everyone!" he shouts, squeezing you back just as hard. 

You catch your breath together. His hands rove over your back, checking and rechecking that you're real and you're not hurt. He pushes you away from him to check your front properly, hand on your face, your arms. 

"I'm fine," you say, "I'm perfect." 

"You have more blood on you than the rest of us put together." 

You hum unhappily. "I think I got a fresh one in the artery. It sprayed like a fountain, it was–" You sigh, stroking a loose curl of dirtied hair from his eyes. "It was disgusting." 

He wants to kiss you, but he's normal, and you're both plastered in blood. He's less normal as he wraps his forearm behind your head and forces your face into his neck, groaning in an exhaustive relief. Your warm breath against his skin is everything he could ever ask for. 

"Stay inside, next time," he murmurs. 

"Not a chance." 

"Think I can give him a citation?" Steve hears Hopper ask. 

Joyce gasps through a laugh. "They're cute!" 

"This is a public space." 

Steve huffs a laugh against your ear. "Holy shit, you scared the fuck out of me." 

"I had to know you were okay." 

His hand slides down your shoulders, searching for something he can't explain. "I'm okay. We're okay, honey. You can relax."

The last of your resistance ebbs away. You melt into his arms, and Steve pretends for your sake that he can't feel you shaking like a leaf. You just tore your way through a herd to make sure he was okay: you're the bravest girl he's ever met.

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Rubato

Chapter Fifteen

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Lee/Pam, Sam/Madison, Benny, Charlie, Elizabeth

Word Count: 3340

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, mentions of Bela's childhood sexual abuse, lots of drunken shenanigans, Benny's not flirting, just being his own charming self, jealousy, Dean is slipping, unbeta'd

Series Masterlist

The week between Christmas and New Years is always a week of stasis, celebratory and lazy, just holding its breath for changes to come. In a word, it’s possibility. You still did some work, but not many requests were coming in and social media was bombarded with gratitude and self reflection. Not many people noticed the band’s lack of posts and you were grateful for not having to make excuses for some family time, for anyone.

Your flight home had been arduous, delays and a layover that just left you a zombie for a solid 36 hours afterwards. You woke up on the morning of New Year’s Eve with a sense of dread. You checked your phone just to be safe and all seemed well, or quiet at least. Annoyed with your brain, you decided to punish your body instead, or practice self-care, depending on who you asked. Your stationary bike had gotten a little dusty while you were out of town, but after a couple miles everything else fell out of focus. The rolling hills made you feel invincible.

It had started as physical therapy after your car accident back in college, but biking had turned into one of your go to hobbies. And as boring and non-creative it sounded, it did you a lot of good when your thoughts got too loud. It was like running away from your problems, but it still benefited you both physically and mentally.

Win win.

By three, you were just waiting to get ready. The outfit you picked out with Bela hung on the back of your closet door still wrapped in the Sister Jo’s bag. You slumped in your robe and scrolled through the news as you waited to switch the wash around. 

Different broadcasts covered the various local NYE specials and reminded everyone to drive sober, take the bus or get a ride. You thought Dean said he had gotten rides covered the last you talked, but you weren’t sure who was getting you or when, really. If you needed to meet somewhere to go as a group, you needed to order your ride now or everyone would be waiting on you.

Biting your lip, you called him instead of texting, because your worry was immediate not eventual. He picked up on the third ring, slightly out of breath.

“Hey, Trouble, what’s up?” “What’s the plan for tonight? Are we leaving from your place or are you picking me up? I don’t know where Elizabeth’s Nightowl Cafe actually is, Dean.”

Naturally, he laughed. “Hey, look, it’s not a great time. I’m in wardrobe right now. But I’ll make sure you get home safe. Maybe just head over to Bela’s and we’ll pick you both up on the way?”

“The photoshoot is today?! I could have sworn you already had it.”

“Yeah, well, Christmas took longer than I thought and they wedged me in.”

“Dean—”

“Look, I figured it out. And you didn’t have to hold my hand or anything. Now, look, I gotta drop trough, so if you need to continue this conversation with my dick out, by all means. They’re putting me in white pants, so bye-bye Batman boxers.”

You almost swallowed your tongue.

“Yeah, I’m good. You— you have fun with that.”

“See you tonight.”

“Right, bye.”

You slammed your eyes shut, but the damn visuals still flooded your mind. Gorgeous fucking bastard. You exhaled and called Bela, which was far less of a rollercoaster of a conversation and you agreed to be at her place after five to get ready together.

“You still haven’t said anything about your trip home,” you reminded Bela as she handed you another flute of champagne. 

You were both dressed and ready, nibbling on an assortment of cheese and crackers on her oversized kitchen island. From what Dean said about Benny’s cousin’s cooking, dinner was on the agenda, but you had started pregaming and didn’t want to get sloppy too early.

“I’m trying to black it out, honestly. It was such pretentious bullshit. And don’t get me started on my mother’s latest project involving the southern gardens at the summer home,” Bela rolled her eyes and shoved another slice of cheese into her mouth.

“Topiaries?”

“Close, a walking maze. Because apparently Queen Victoria is alive and well,” Bela dusted her hands and raised them in surrender. “At least she didn’t try to force me to bring Dean, that would have ended poorly.”

“Dean is actually really good with moms— but I’m pretty sure he’d get arrested if he had to sit down and have a meal with your dad like he isn’t evil incarnate.”

Bela hummed, sipping her drinking.

You took another bit of cheese and made a sandwich, sensing she was holding something back. “You actually told him about it?”

Bela swallowed and chewed on her words. “Let’s just say Dean and I bonded over our less than stellar fathers, but yeah, I agree with you. In fact he said as much, something about knowing how to hide a body and having a big trunk to drag it away.”

You laughed darkly. “That would be Dean. Prepared, but with violence at the ready.”

“Anyway, setting up another fundraiser for Prevent Together for the new year. Please keep both of your calendars free because I need all my people there, alright?”

“Of course,” you promised, reaching across the butcher block countertop and squeezing her hand. Bela never ceased to amaze you with her strength. You switched gears to grant her some space, “is this the first time you’re meeting the rest of the band?”

“Well, I’ve met Sam. But I’m guessing he’s in on the plan. They’re a bit attached-at-the-hip types?”

You smirked. “Basically a package deal, but I think he’s more protective lately. His girlfriend Madison is fun and I hope they work out, he’s a good guy.”

“So who else do I need to charm?”

“Pamela.”

“Pamela?”

“The drummer, possibly psychic and honestly a little frightening at times. But she’s got a big heart to go with her bluntness. If you can’t convince her, we’re all in for it, because she’s gonna dig. So we’ll make sure you and Dean are on all night. I am definitely snagging some midnight shots, so pucker up, darling.” You teased, but honestly, kissing Dean couldn’t be anything but a treat, even just for a camera.

Maybe you were biased.

“Naturally. Alright, and how does Dean know the owner of the cafe?”

“She’s Benny’s cousin. A good friend and head of tour security, sometimes a personal bodyguard.”

Bela nodded, “I think he’s mentioned him as being on standby if one of our nights out got to be too much.”

You were grateful Bela had paid attention, if she was actually dating Dean, she would know all of this already. The less you had to explain on the spot, the less chance of a slip up.

“Big Cajun guy, total teddy bear. He’ll love you,” you added.

“Nice.”

A mechanical crank sounded somewhere behind you. “Is that—?”

“The garage, they must be here,” Bela gathered the tray and unceremoniously set it inside the fridge.

“How did they get into the garage? I didn’t see you get a text.”

“Dean has the code. Finish your drink,” Bela rushed you.

You slammed the rest of your champagne and added your glass in the sink with Bela’s. Something felt weird that Dean knew Bela’s security override code, but then again you didn’t drive, must be why you didn’t have it.

“Hey— whoa!” Dean’s voice snapped you out of your sleuthing spiral. “Lookin’ good, ladies.”

You turned and took him in, burgundy suit without a tie, a dark undershirt with the collar popped. Fucker. 

“Thank you, likewise.” Bela leaned in and pecked his cheek.

Dean turned to you. “All set?”

You looked around for your phone and grabbed it and the charger off of the ledge towards the sidedoor. “Yeap. You?” you asked Bela.

“Do I need a touch up?” she asked, tilting her head side to side for your honest inspection. 

“Nope, lipstick did its job. You’re glorious,” you affirmed.

“Right, well, shall we?” Bela gestured toward the door which Dean pushed open for you and Bela to go first. Past Bela’s MG the big door was still open, showing a pair of black SUVs waiting on the curb. As you stepped out onto the short drive, Lee screamed out a backwindow from the first vehicle, “ladies, ladies, ladies, are we ready to have a good time?!”

You laughed, dancing a little up the incline and pumping your fist to an imaginary beat. 

“Trouble’s ready! What about you? You gonna give this one a run for his money?” Lee teased and then took a swig off of his own bottle of champagne.

“You can count on it,” Bela said darkly, eyes only on Dean. Everyone cheered as Dean put his hand on the small of her back and kissed her temple.

From the second SUV Sam emerged smirking and opened the door, waving you all inside. It was time to get the show on the road.

You had met Elizabeth a handful of times and everytime you were floored by her natural hospitality. The cafe was closed for the event, where barely thirty of you were gathered in the vintage-diner- themed all night cafe. She had tables set up with appetizers and a bartender working the soda fountain so you could get dessert with your booze if you wanted.

You wondered if Dean had requested the pie, because there were three cut and displayed on a stand with plastic domes to keep them from drying out.

Oldies played from the antique jukebox and everyone mingled as others arrived. You snapped pictures of the guests and the hand painted mural on the wall showcasing blues artists and faces from classic Hollywood. Everything was gorgeous and it was a little overwhelming seeing everyone dressed to the nines, but you remembered how smashing you looked in your outfit and tucked your shoulders back and held your head high. 

Eventually, Benny found you and pulled you in for one of his signature bear hugs. 

“It’s been too long, doll. Stickin’ to your namesake or have you been behavin’ ?”

 You chuckled, pulling back to look up at his handsome face. “Oh you know, I do what I can. You?”

Benny’s bright eyes searched for something and eased you back onto your heels. “Uh, yeah, good. Itchin’ to get back on the road. Working the movie lots is a real pain, glad it’s only temporary.”

The song changed and Benny hummed along, you caught a glimpse of Sam and Madison talking with Bela while Dean and Lee waited in line for drinks.

“I can’t wait for the tour either, I think we all could stand to get back to basics.”

“Boys causing a ruckus for ya?” Benny asked knowingly.

“Nah, just a feeling. They’ve been working too hard more than anything. So a little balance will probably do the trick.”

“Well, that’s what we’re here for. Time to play hard. Wanna dance?” You looked around and sure enough, Lee and Pamela had started swinging to Johnny B. Goode, while some of the other roadies were shuffling along with their partners in a less flamboyant way.

You flexed your knee and decided you were tipsy enough to risk it and your pride for such an earnest proposal. “Lead the way.”

Benny was surprisingly light on his feet for such a sturdy guy and he helped you get in a good groove, just for the song to switch into Patsy Cline. Benny slowed it down into a stroll to fit the song and you giggled as he told you about what his ex Andrea had done now, after getting out of prison for trying to stab him, of all things.

“You are so better off without her,” you told him, patting his chest as the song came to a close.

Dinner was phenomenal: medallion sized steaks that were still juicy inside with spiral cut fried potatoes, green bean almondine and Waldorf salad. There were four tables set for eight set up in the space that would usually hold a dozen two or four seaters. Elizabeth finally took a seat as you were half way through a plate, but you made sure to let her know how amazing everything was.

“Oh, it’s nothing, now make sure you save room for pie. Got Strawberry Rhubarb, Dutch Apple and Blackberry waitin’,” she insisted like a favorite grandmother and not somebody you could have gone to school with.

Dean groaned deeper as she mentioned each variety, making everyone around your table share a knowing look. 

“Easy there, Dean might need to claim a pie as his own, you know how he gets. And I am not one for sloppy seconds,” Benny teased.

The table erupted and Dean didn’t even look like he cared. “If she ends up sending me home with a whole pie, it’s my business what happens to it.”

Tears were burning in your eyes from laughter and the lecherous look Dean shot Benny. He was ridiculous.

You turned to Bela, “good thing Sam isn’t at our table or he’d need to excuse himself.”

“It is getting a bit indecent isn’t it?” Bela said out of the side of her mouth.

“Are you raggin’ on me now, too?!” Dean asked aghast.

“Of course not! Just don’t want your girlfriend to get jealous of a pastry,” you quipped.

A low rumble of an accepted burn answered from around the table.

“Hey now, my girl knows what tickles my taste buds, if you know what I’m saying,” Dean shot back, earning him a fist bump from Lee.

Bela rolled her eyes and shrugged, which only made the laughter louder. The humor dissipated until every noise was roaring like the ocean in your ears. This wasn’t even the worst thing you’d heard out of Dean’s mouth, after years of groupies and life on tour, you thought you’d heard and seen it all. But Bela not denying Dean’s prowess in pussy eating suddenly made you feel impossibly lost.

You literally set up the joke and now you wished for anything to take it back.

“Gentleman, please!” Elizabeth broke into the cacophony. “Or no dessert.”

Which promptly set them all off once again, but they got their act together enough to be gracious when the pie did arrive. You had blackberry and it was thick and rich enough to keep you from opening your big mouth again. Also the vodka cranberry you had switched to was a perfect chaser for the sweetness of the filling.

Two more drinks and three hours later, you were in better spirits and a sequined top hat. The noise makers were harder to come by, Madison and Benny fighting over the last one like toddlers over the last Hot Wheel. Sam had to break it up, which meant Madison won anyway, naturally. But at least Benny could still whistle. The countdown was getting close and everyone was crammed together on the makeshift dance floor under the dimmed lights, talking and swaying in circles. Dancing would have been too much with all the anticipation in the air.

You had your camera at the ready, taking small videos of the crowd and snapping selfies with anyone within reach. The lone television behind the counter hopped between coverage of celebrations in Vegas, Seattle and LA. You did a quick scan of your immediate vicinity for Bela and Dean. Finally, you found them next to Pam and Lee, who were sharing a bottle of bourbon between them, while Bela and Dean were whispering and readying their noisemakers and confetti respectively.

“Oooo, two couples one shot! I want you guys to make it count okay, this is for posterity’s sake!” you ordered, framing the shot just as the countdown began.

10…9…8…

Dean pulled Bela close by the waist. Lee tipped back another swig before almost losing his hat to the movement.

7…6…5…

Bela gazed up at Dean’s face and said something you couldn’t hear over the numbers shouting out of every corner of the party.

4…3…2…

Dean leaned in and started kissing Bela before she could get to one, tipping her back until she almost knocked into Lee, who was hauling Pam up by her haunches before starting to tongue fuck right there in front of your camera. You snapped countless shots, screaming and jumping in place as you worked your magic. Hot people doing hot things who were also clearly into it, was marketing gold. 

Eat that Crowley.

Sam swooped you up in a hug and wished you happy new year, then came Charlie, who had arrived after dinner with some girls from her LARPing group. After a few elbows to the side, Dean broke from Bela’s mouth and welcomed you and Charlie into a group hug. The speakers blasted Auld Lang Syne and everyone joined in, arms linked and swaying to the stilted beat. 

Elizabeth ensured the party was still going, so she had her people put out fresh appetizers and turned the jukebox back on. There was a run for the bathroom and then for refills and before you knew it it was after one. You had a fresh drink in your hand and a circle had formed around you of women grooving to Mustang Sally.

“Ride Sally, RIDE!” you all bellowed. 

Bela had taken off her shoes and was holding them over her head as she swayed her hips. You whipped your head and shoulders back and forth feeling loose and timeless. Charlie was snapping and getting soulful as she sang along, knowing every line of the verses even.

Sam Cooke followed Wilson Pickett on the jukebox, slowing it down and sending your little circle off towards their partners. You didn’t care, you just kept swaying and taking turns singing “yeah— yeah!” and sipping your cocktail.

The crowd was thinning and you knew either brother would be corralling the group for the after party at their place shortly. Thank the label for drivers and security all on the craziest night of the year. 

“Hey, you good?” Dean’s voice came out of nowhere and you turned towards his warmth, eyes closed and humming. 

“Yeah, is it time–?”

“Let’s get off the dancefloor, I can barely hear you,” Dean took your elbow and brought you over to the edge of the counter where the bartender was wiping glasses dry.

“How are you? Need to puke and rally before we get in the car?” Dean asked firmly, testing your sobriety by your answer and the focus of your eyes.

“I’m fine, why? Is Bela puking?” you looked around for your bestie amongst the remaining partygoers.

“No, look, I just, here,” Dean brushed his knuckles against your cheek to get you to look back at him. Once he had your full attention, he leaned in and licked his lips, watching you as you waited for him to finish his thought. And then he was kissing you, hand on the back of your head and impossible lips massaging yours into complete submission.

You shuttered around a breath and opened your mouth for his tongue. That delicious sensation was enough to reset your brain and you pulled back, gasping.

You couldn’t form words and Dean’s face went from sleepy to wary to disappointed all in the blink of an eye. 

“Look— you deserve a midnight kiss, too, you know. I just—- thought you should have one,” Dean said in the space between maybe and almost.

You cleared your throat. “Oh, well, I guess it’s okay then. Thanks?”

You couldn’t look him in the eye, you were too shellshocked, too exposed.

“I’ll start getting everybody towards the exit. See you at the cars,” Dean said lowly, fingertips brushing your hip as he moved through your space.

You finished your drink and got a road beer from the blissfully unaware bartender. It was time to slow down, especially if you were going to be in Dean’s space the rest of the night. 

Damn it.

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

Chapter Sixteen: Schleppen

[two-white-butterflies]

parallel lines | d. targaryen | part four

Description: An ordinary middle school teacher moves to a desolate town with her fiancee. After suffering episodes of vivid nightmares, she realizes that his uncle looks exactly like the man in her dreams.

Pairings: daemon targaryen/reader, aemond targaryen/reader

Trope: Reincarnation

series masterlist |

"I don't pray for revival, I'm already living in one."

Daemon's body was mere centimeters away from yours, he was looking at you with those puppy eyes - praying to the gods that you'd remember. Aemond almost sees red.

He calls out to you.

"Yes?" you raised your eyebrows, he takes a mammoth stride in your direction, creating an empty space between you and Daemon. "Everything alright?" you inquired, seeing that pout on his lips.

He shakes his head, reaching for the beer on the coffee table. "Yep," he popped his lips, glaring at his uncle's direction. He did love you to an extent, but he could never love you more than Alys.

"We were having an interesting conversation about zombies," Daemon referenced and you responded with a giggle. Aemond huffed, clearly uncomfortable. "I thought you were scared of zombies?" he tried to play it off with a chuckle.

You leaned closer to his touch.

The image of a man covered in blood never boded well with your sensitive stomach. "I still am - but Daemon has a strange way of making them funny." you responded, and he pretended to look away. "Does that mean that you'll watch 'the Sadness' with me?" he narrowed his eyes and you quickly shook your head.

"Now you're just trying to scare me on purpose," you smiled and he pressed a kiss to your cheek, aware that Daemon was a spectator. Aemond thought for a moment that he had finally won. He's taken you with avarice before, and he's not afraid to do it twice.

You shake the ice on your empty cup.

"I'll grab more drinks, do you want any?" you offer the men and Daemon nods his head. "I'll take a pornstar martini, you know how I like it." he winked, referencing another joke that you had prior to Aemond joining the conversation. "You're getting me into trouble," you jested and he laughed.

"Make it fast," he teased.

"Don't make this complicated, kepus. You might regret it." he warns.

Something in Daemon's subconscious shifts. How long has it been since they last fought? A thousand years. One would almost forget the rabidness that a desperate man possessed.

"The greatest swordsman killed by his own nephew." Aemond mocked, taking a swig of his beer. "I wasn't wearing a sword, and it wasn't much of a fight if your bitch wasn't playing fair." Daemon gritted his teeth.

Aemond smirks, taking the upper hand.

"Calm down," Aemond antagonized.

"What do you want from her?" Daemon quickly interrogated. Everyone knew that you were his, since the moment you met in the Stepstones - you came back to Harrenhal as a claimed woman. Even after his marriage to Lady Laena, he always came back to you. A bastard, loving him better than any trueborn woman. "She doesn't know who you are, she loves me." Aemond emphasized.

And it pained Daemon to see that he was right.

"She's bound to remember," Daemon retorted.

"You are right, but she'll still choose me." he smirked.

"Even when she remembers the whole truth?" Daemon challenged.

Aemond's eye softens, wholly unsure. He remembers what he's done to you - those dark nights in your sister's castle. Hands tied together, eyes flowing with tears and begging for death. No, he was sure that if you remembered - you'd leave him; you'd hate him forever, and he'll be alone once more. He decides to shift the conversation, for now. Until he finds a permanent solution for your memories.

"You were lucky to have been spared before the capture. You couldn't have saved her from me." Aemond mumbles, waiting until the gears click and Daemon realizes the full truth. "You didn't kill her?" Daemon's eyes narrowed and Aemond nods smugly. "What did you do?" Daemon inquires, scanning the room for allies.

"I gave your wife an heir, something you couldn't provide." he whispered and Daemon lifts his fist, striking the man on his face. Aemond falters from the shear force, but quickly regains his strength. Daemon lifts his fist again, but Laenor prevents him this time. "Daemon," his friend breathed - running across the room to stop this circus.

"You cannot change the past." Aemond lifted his chin. "You should've seen her, alas that memory is mine alone." he smirked, seeing Laenor hold Daemon with all of his might. The man was struggling to hold his friend back, as Daemon was a trained soldier - strong and big.

"You told us that murder was forbidden in this world, but this house has a garden of fifty-hectares. I could bury you and I know for a fact that the police wouldn't dare search." Daemon threatened, the atmosphere suddenly grew thick.

Laenor and Aemond knew that he wouldn't be making this threats if they weren't promises. "Hide me like you've hidden our family's dirt?" Aemond antagonized further. "If you're going to make him mad, I'm not going to hold him back." Laenor warned, the boy ignores him.

"Be careful with your words, Aemond. Your confession will lead you to a place with no return." Daemon warned, a part of his heart still feeling for his young nephew.

It wasn't always this way.

(December 25, 2003)

Daemon could hear his nephews cry in the other room. "Everything alright?" he asks his brother's wife, her hair was disheveled and the entire house was out of place.

"Viserys and Aemond had a fight, I don't think that boy will ever like his father again." she shook her head. A sigh escapes his mouth. "Is there anything I can do to help? I should've been here yesterday but there wasn't any flights until Yule morning." Daemon reasoned, handing his sister-in-law the gifts for the children.

"Merry Christmas, Daemon." Alicent greeted weakly. "Talk to Aemond for me, please. You know how much the boy adores you." she pleaded, the older man nodded. "Of course."

Aemond was sobbing loudly, covered by his pillows and sheets of duvet. "Byka zaldrīzes?" his uncle called out, taking a cautious step towards the bed. "Go away." Aemond mumbled.

"What happened?" Daemon ignored, settling down on the mattress. "Da' got mad at him for opening the gifts too early." Aegon responded, taking a sip of his eggnog - he's probably too young to be drinking that. "It's Christmas?" Daemon frowned.

He lifts the pillows off Aemond's body - exposing his sweaty body. "I got all of you gifts, they're with Mum." he pokes his nephew. "Maybe we can go out later, enjoy the funfair." Daemon offered.

"I want to stay at home." Aemond huffed.

"We can stay at home," Daemon wiped the boy's sweat with his handkerchief. He reminds him so much of himself.

next chapter>>

[starry-eyed-steve]

Sandra's Fic Wrapped 2023

Hello <3, it's the last day of 2023, and I wanted to give some love to all the amazing fanfics I read this year. Each one of the people mentioned here is so talented, and everyone should check out their entire work.

(Disclaimer: all fics mentioned are Steve Harrington x reader)

Here are my top reads from this year (in no particular order)

Wildfire by @curiositydooropened (completed series, enemies to lovers) This fic has one of the best world building, I need this to happen in s5, actually. Doesn't shy away from discussions of ptsd and overall, it was so well done. I still have to finish it, but I know Amanda did an amazing job with it. <3

Glitch by @munsonsreputation (series, friends to lovers) This fic is just so cozy and cute. Reader insert felt like a very well-rounded character. You will love all the interactions with the other characters. It's just so well done. <3

whip it! by @schoopsahoy (one shot) This fic was cuteness overload. Loved the confident reader insert, and overall, the character dynamics were so well done, esp Steve and the kids <3

don't think twice, it's alright by @hawkinsquarry (part of a series, hurt/comfort post s4) I think this is one of my fav hurt/comfort pieces I've read this year. The interactions between reader and Steve are so tender. Overall, this was perfect <3

Into Open Flames by @kurokoros (completed series, established relationship, horror, set after s2 canon divergence) This fic has amazing world building. The original monster is so terrifying and well done that I was on the edge of my seat all the time. I adored Steve's character so much, kinda wish the show would have handled his character that way instead of what they did in s3/4. Overall amazing writing <3

confetti by @slashersteve (series, single!dad Steve) My favorite single dad Steve fic out there. I still haven't read the latest part, but I had to mention this series. It's amazing. The characters feel so real, and you'll fall in love with Steve's daughter <3

become the sun by @headkiss (one shot, strangers to friends to lovers) This was probably my favorite summer fic. I adored the small beach town vibe. Overall, that was such a cute read. I still need to read this year's Christmas fic, which I know will be great because last year's was amazing. <3

the view between villages, part one: good bones by @sattlersquarry (completed series, choose your own adventure, s3) Listen this is one of the most creative works I've read. The amount of work that was put in it is insane. You play an active part and get to choose how your story ends. This was such a fun experience <3

the swindling of steve harrington’s heart by @stevebabey (one shot, strangers to lovers) This was such a cute fic, like Steve asking for dating advice in the Hawkins Post was just sweet. I loved all the interactions between him and the reader. If you need a pick-me-up, this is your fic <3

and they were roomates by @sunshinesteviee (one shot, friends to lovers) This fic was just so cute. I loved Robin being kinda in the middle of this and sick of their bullshit. Overall, amazing writing and a quick read if you are feeling down and need cheering up <3

almost paradise by @hawkinsindiana (completed series for now, ST rewrite covering all seasons) I said it so many times, but this is one of my overall favorite stories. Kinda wish we had the reader character in the actual show because it makes so much sense. The writing is amazing, I even shed a few tears towards the end. I can't wait to see what's in store for s5. Also, check out the various blurbs that go with it. There is so much work being put into this, and it deserves a bit more love. I'm gonna re-read the whole thing next year. <3

steve zombie!au by @luveline (compilation of blurbs and one shots) This is one of my fav AU, I can't just choose one thing, so I linked the entire masterlist Their relationship is just so special. I love the world building and the other characters. It's amazing <3

no good at waiting by @familyvideostevie (completed series, sorta enemies to lover farmer market au) This is one of my fav series, and we got such cute blurbs this year from this universe. It has such a cozy vibe to it, great world building and characters. <3

Any Way Out by @hairrington (one shot, angst, ex boyfriend Steve) This fic was a mix of heartache and comfort. Nadia is one of my fav Steve writers out there so everyone check out her entire masterlist. <3

some kind of muted blue by @thecreelhouse (one shot, dark themes, deals with things like ptsd) This was so devastatingly beautiful, I loved that this fic explored Steve's felings so much, something we don't get to see in the show. This was just amazingly written <3

[sinsandsweetness]

Irrevocable (sex and zombies- chapter 4)

pairing- {Rick x fem!reader)

summary- Reader finally gets what she's been longing for. Well... almost anyway.

warnings- 18+ content, MDNI, angry Rick Grimes, he is kinda mean for a moment, mentions of character death, typical twd violence I suppose.

notes- time jump to after the farm is overran.

An arrow missed your face by an inch, piercing the skull of a dead one behind you. 

You gave Daryl a quick glare but continued on, putting another one down with your knife. You and a few others were clearing a grocery store. Seeing if there was anything left. Anything still edible. 

Lori, Carl, Beth, Hershel, and T-dog, had stayed back at the house you were all staying in. Back where it was at least cleared out and locked up. Not a permanent residence, but for a week it would do. 

You were all hungry. Practically starving. You had noticed your hip bones in the mirror of the bathroom that morning. More prominent than you’d remembered a few months ago. 

“Clear!” You heard Rick call from the back of the store. It was a small town grocery store. Nothing special. And a lot had been taken. But there was some dried goods, a few cans left too. 

All of you sat in your respective aisles, eating stale chips and resting your legs. You had no vehicle. Not anymore. 

You sat across from Rick, and watched him lick the salt off his fingers. You had to look down at your own bag for a moment to collect your wandering thoughts. 

He tapped his boot against your leg though, inviting your gaze back to his face. Beard a little long, and face a little dirty. But still just as handsome. 

He smiled and grabbed your boot to pull you forward, earning a little laugh as you got dragged closer to him and fell on to your back. He then grabbed your hand pulling you towards him. Forcing you to fall forward in between his legs. For a moment you stayed there. Smiling big at his playfulness. But you decided to move, and shifted so that you were sitting down again. Both of were now facing the same empty shelves. You in between his legs. 

Trying not to think about the fact that you were in between his legs. Practically in his lap. You leaned back into him, like he was your own personal couch cushion.  

He snaked his arms around you and nuzzled into your shoulder, air warming your t-shirt when he let out a big sigh. 

He knew you wanted him like this. But you also knew boundaries. And when not to cross the line. The two of you had done a decent job at keeping things tame. Overstepping once or twice, but never enough to feel any guilt. Kind of like this. Playful flirting, long glances from across the table, touches that lasted a few seconds too long. You’d even kissed him. You’d made your move but respected his rejection. Partly because you knew that he was married. The other part because you were holding on to the hope that he wanted you too. What you had been hoping for since Rick arrived at your camp in Atlanta. Something pulled you to him like a magnet. 

And now, he had been the one to pull you. He was the one practically cuddling you on the floor of the supermarket right now. 

Turning your neck you look back at him, eyes quickly shifting to his lips. But he shook his head and smirked. Not that you were going to. You rolled your eyes. Leaned your head back and stayed pressed up against him for the few more minutes you’d have left until the group wanted to go back. 

Eventually, Maggie and Glenn called out for you on their way back to the front door. They saw the two of you on the ground but their eyes didn’t linger. 

“Coming,” Rick's voice answered next to your ear. You went to get up, turned around and reached a hand out to help Rick up. 

Everyone sat in a circle around a low fire that night. Eating their portion from the finds earlier. Cans mostly. Beans and corn. You gave extra to Lori. And then plopped down next to Daryl. He was scowling at first but as soon as you draped your blanket over the two of you he softened up a little. His shoulders relaxed and he even leaned in closer. It was cold in the house. And having to keep the fire as low as possible meant that there was very little heat anyway. 

When the fire went out you shifted even closer to Daryl. Snaking your arm around his waist and tucking your face into his neck. You would have earlier but didn’t really care to make Rick watch. Not that it was a secret. 

Daryl didn’t move. He never cuddled. Not since you two had started and he probably never would. But you were touch starved and needed it. And right now at least, he didn’t seem to mind being little spoon.

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

A few painful weeks went by. And then Daryl and Rick found the prison. 

It was nice. More than nice. It was perfect. As soon as the cells were cleaned out at least. And there was privacy. Beds. Blankets. 

Then there was even lots of food, at least after Rick found those prisoners. 

But lots had happened while you were all settling in. Hershel’s leg. The inmates. Walkers. It was a lot. 

And then things went south. Lori's death was unexpected. That one hurt. 

Rick was hurt.

Initially you all gave him space as he went off to clear a cell block all alone. People need time. Time to heal. To be ok. And he would be. Eventually.

And no one blamed him. He’d been through hell. Killed his best friend. Had a baby and lost his wife within the span of a few months.

You made the mistake of trying to talk to him. Thinking that your previous friendship would roll on even after his wife’s death. But for whatever reason, likely just grief, he lost it on you. 

He rushed out of the cell block and you couldn’t help but follow after him. Even through the couple of comments from Hershel and Glenn to “just give him some space”.

You jogged to catch up to his face paced getaway. His hatchet held loosely in his hand. 

“Are you serious?!” You were shocked. He hadn’t acknowledged her. His baby girl. He didn’t even look at her. Just checked on Carl and left to kill more walkers.

He came to a stop and stood still. Not facing you. 

“What, you don’t wanna hold her? Feed her?” You continued.

“Don’t.” He spoke firmly. 

“Don’t what? Don’t bring up the fact that there is a newborn baby in the other room that you haven’t even acknowledged?!” You were offended. For her. For Lori. I mean of course he was allowed to grieve but come in man. Suck it up. It’s his kid for Christ sake. 

He didn't answer, 

"At first I got it Rick, you needed a minute to blow off some steam. But we're safe in here. She- you haven't even held her. Lori- she- she would have wan-"

He turned around and approached you fast, hatched swiftly piercing into the wall beside you. The air from his swing was cold on your face. 

“Drop it.” 

You were stunned. Back against the wall and his arm up near your face. His hand was still gripping the hatchet. Your heartbeat was going insane. 

“You have no idea what’s going on in my head. You don’t have the right to judge me for how I’m dealing with this,” his tone was angry. Furious even. 

“She’s your daughter-“ your voice cracked.

His free hand came up to grab your face. Hard. Aggressively pulling you close. To hear him perfectly. Crystal clear. 

“Shut your fucking mouth-” 

You did. Cheeks hurting from his grasp. 

“-and drop it.” He let you go with a slight push. Dislodged his hatchet from the wall and stormed off. 

You walked back to your cell, fighting off tears.

You avoided him the rest of the day. The entire next week actually. Avoiding eye contact. Not speaking. 

You did what came natural to you and distracted yourself with something familiar and… well, easy.

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

“Fuck.” Daryl groaned a little louder then you’d prefer. 

“Shut up man.” you whispered, rolling your hips onto him. His fingers digging into your ass. Pulling you back down on to him. 

“Keep doin that.” he looked up at you through his heavy eyelids and thick eyelashes. 

You circled your hips again. And again. And again. 

Finally he flipped you both over and finished you off. 

“Gonna need more of these.” He said while rolling off the condom and tossing it in the trash. 

You rolled your eyes and searched for your clothes, hidden in the blankets. It was first thing in the morning. New day. Same routine. Though usually it didn’t start quite this way. Waking up to Daryls face between your legs, doing that thing with his tongue. You knew the one. 

The knock at your cell door was abrupt and you only had enough time to cover yourself with the sheets before Rick opened the curtain. He started saying something but paused when he saw you holding the white sheet to your chest. And then his eyes went to Daryl who was standing next to you and doing up his belt. 

Rick's jaw clenched. “Breakfast is ready.” He informed you both. 

Shit. 

After avoiding Rick’s glare at breakfast you were ready to go check traps with Daryl. Instead, Rick pulled you aside. 

“I was hoping you could help me clear some of the other cell blocks today.” His hand on his hatchet. No emotion on his face. 

“Oh,” Definitely surprised but you tried not to show it. “Sure.” 

You grabbed a machete and followed him to the cell block. The hallways were dark. Just a tiny flashlight to lead the way. It was relatively easy. Most of the bodies were already dealt with. Just had to be moved to the yard. 

The next cell block however, was a little more difficult. More walkers than the last. Not that it was an issue.

Rick's hatchet came up and made you flinch. Piercing the corpse right behind you. You swallowed. The body thunked to the floor. Rick's face was so close to yours you could feel his breath. 

“Pay attention,“

You nodded. You'd glanced at his lips. So quickly. Maybe he didn’t notice. 

The two of you helped clear the rest of the block. Walker blood spraying both of you with every swing of your weapons. 

Covered in blood, you made your way back to the main cell. It was dark out now. You’d been working the whole day. Hadn’t eaten. Hadn’t taken a break at all. You passed the courtyard and headed for the water barrel, scooping a handful and slurping it into your mouth. Rick was right behind you. Maggie and Glenn were on watch in the tower above. But they weren’t paying attention to the two of you. 

Rubbing your wet hands on your face you could feel the blood. The grime. You needed a shower. Desperately. 

“What?” You asked Rick who seemed to be staring at you. For a little too long. 

“Nothin,” he licked his lips and cracked his neck. “You should uh… go wash up though,” he pointed to the blood all over your clothes. As if he was any less covered. You nodded and walked past him. Feeling his stare continue as walked back towards the cells.

Your shower felt glorious. And your pyjamas felt even better. 

Back in your cell, Rick was already sitting on your bed. Showered as well. His damp hair combed back, waves and curls forming behind his ears. 

“Good job today,” he moved over, inviting you to sit down. 

“Thanks…” you weren’t sure what he was doing. 

“I’m grateful,” he started. Looking down at his hands. 

“You’ve done so much for us, for me,” he went on. It wasn’t a lie. You’d been a major help with the initial taking over of the prison. And even more while you were on the road those months in the winter you’d given everything to Lori, to Carl. To anyone but you.

“Least I could do,” you were confused. He’d seemed mad at you for a week and then when he caught you and Daryl this morning he seemed even less impressed. Now he was... back to his usual self. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you…” you knew what he was talking about. He didn’t have to explain. 

“It’s ok.” You didn’t really wanna talk about that. 

“No it’s not. I lost it on you and that wasn’t okay.”

“Yeah, I mean it wasn’t cool.” You nod and clasp your hands in your lap. 

“I shouldn’t have been so harsh. And I- I just… I acted out. And I’m sorry.”

“You lost your wife. And now there’s a newborn. I don’t really blame you for being on edge.”

“I know, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you .”

“Yeah. You shouldn’t have.” You agreed. 

His hand went to your thigh, rubbing up and down

“So you and Daryl…” he changed the topic. 

You wanted to suffocate yourself into the pillow. 

“I didn't realize that was still..."

"Happening?" you finished his sentence. Avoiding his eye contact, and instead focused on your hands.

"Yeah. I mean I'd heard that you guys...well...I never really knew for sure."

“Yeah well...” Your voice was quiet. You weren’t gonna lie. But it was a little awkward. 

"Since the farm?" He asked.

"Atlanta..." 

He nodded slightly. Realization hitting him slowly. All that time you had been pining over him, you’d also been fucking Daryl. There was a hint of what you could only assume was disappointment in his eyes. 

“You were married so…” you told him like it was an excuse. Well it was an excuse. You couldn’t very well have had him at the time. 

“Well I’m not anymore.” He looked up at you. A mix of sadness and suggestiveness on his face. It was true though. There wasn’t anything holding him back from you anymore. Just grief. 

His pupils were dilated and his hand was still on your leg. He brought his other hand up to the back of your neck, pulling you into him. 

“Rick-“ you protested. He was obviously not well. 

“Shh” he presses your foreheads together. You couldn’t help but let your eyes close. He wasn’t thinking clearly. Broken hearted. Looking for something to fill a void. But some part of you didn’t care. Anything he’d do in the next moment was ok with you. 

“God you're so soft...” his thumb rubbed your cheek gently. Finally his lips met yours and you though hesitant, you found yourself pulling him down on top of you. Gently. His hands roamed up and down, under and over your shirt. Mouths moved against each-other, exploring all over. His damp hair tickled your neck when he dipped down to kiss your collarbone. 

“You’re not thinking right,” You say to him softly. 

“Just be quiet,” he whispered into your skin, hand reaching beneath your waist band, finding its way to your panties. Your heart skipped a beat. There was no way this was actually happening. You couldn’t help the moan that left you when his fingers found your clit, rubbing soft circles over your underwear. 

“Rick we shouldn’t-“

“Shh,” he cut you off and went back to kissing you. Tongue tracing your lips. Inviting you in even more. Closer. His other hand found it's way up your shirt, and you arched as far into his touch as you could.

You both shot up at the sound of Rick's name being called. Beth was looking for him. Probably to hand Judith off. 

The blush was still apparent on your face as Beth peeled around the curtain. Even though Rick was now standing. She seemed oblivious though.

“You want me to put her to bed or did you wanna take her?” She asked Rick. He took Judith from the girl and bounced her in his arms, rocking back and forth. Sleepy. She didn’t make a sound. He looked over at you and chewed at his bottom lip. 

“We should get some sleep,” you tell him. 

He nodded a quick “Goodnight” and hesitantly left your cell. 

You touched yourself the second the curtain closed. 

[diluclover300]

Just One Week (1)

Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

Also posted on my ao3 account: diluclover300

CHAPTER INDEX:

I H8 U

My Kinda Fun

Balance

{S] Awake

Eggs and Rice

Wait, but I'm broke

Couple's Discount

CHAPTER 1: I H8 U

...

Ha. Ha. You roll your eyes, arms crossed before they unfold again. The elevator opens and you're back at the lobby of the building again. Ha. Ha. 

You hate this place. Normal was so ordinary. So predictable. So boring. Blah!

Whatever, whatever, whatever. You just want to go home already. It's been a long day at work. 

You walk, as the general population does, because even though you're special, and so different, you're human before any of that bull crap. Genetically, you're a programmed sheep. Mentally, you stick out like a sore thumb. 

And you walk with the help of wired earbuds, ones that you grabbed at the nearest department store. You understand why people can't leave the house without these babies. They're so convenient, a socially accepted escape from the real world. 

Selfishly, as it should be, you're listening to the same sickly sweet, syrupy-lyric filled song. Generic, yet so stupid catchy that even a zombie would dumbly mumble it in its sleep. With it's unintelligible voice, muddy and groggy as it lowly moans the melody. Like pure mush, frothing with spit. 

Love. Love. Love. A boyband, the popular one you've loved since highschool, is singing about what sells— sex. Oh, baby. I want you. I love you. Give me all of you. Kiss me until I can't breath, wrap me with your heat. 

You understand the gist of it, don't you? Because you certainly do. 

Bouncy, your steps are, almost preppy that you feel like everyone else. You suppose that's fine for now. You're forcibly, undeniably put into a swarm of people. People that will always be like you. Vise versa. It's the way of life. 

Same old. 

Beep. Your lanyard scans across the kind of thing you'd see in a new-york subway. Too bad you're across the globe in Japan, in some remote town, so you don't live miles away from the famous–or was it infamous– you don't know, times square. Boring. 

You suck in a hefty amount of hair, and it's humiliating when you push the door that so politely–and obviously— asks to be pulled. Wow. You turn back to confirm that no one has just seen you do that. But you're suddenly biting back another heap of cringe mixed with embarrassment when you realize that someone behind you blankly stares at you. Probably to hurry up so that they could get out too.

"Oops." You laugh, but they don't. "Sorry about–"

"Are you going to open that door?"

"Oh, uh, yes. I am."

Right. You pull the handle of the door that you've touched thousands of times.

The breeze hits you and as physics do, your hair whips across your face, sprawling over your dry, cracked lips. You push on, steps now long strides. You're fighting with the wind and it's terrible. 

Welp. That was life. Mother nature wasn't, never was, kind to you. 

Another idiotic event, another "let's make a fool out of Y/N" moment. You fold your arms underneath the crevice of your chest, that white button up so thin you're sure that you've developed hypothermia in the last few minutes you've been walking. 

Another sigh. Then you realize it looks hopeless, and stupid. Then you wipe your cheek, holding your lips together and realize that looks equally awkward. Damn. 

Incident after incident. Mistake after mistake. Everything feels like a math equation, and it's all adding up to make you look a fool. 

At least nothing too terrible happened today.

Then, as if it was clockwork, an ominous feeling began to settle in the depths of your heart. As if your instincts were telling you to run. 

You don't. Your hopes of a normal day, your suspicions of having a great day are so terribly...

Wrong. You look up and see the face that you don't want to see. The face that looks back at you like a mirror, the face who's lips turn up into a slight smile. The face who's glasses tip down his rather long, yet socially accepted nose. The face who's eyes are freakishly blue, who's eyes would receive the predictable comparison– "Hey, your eyes look just like the sky."

This can't be real.

This can't be happening.

Maybe today wasn't destined to be a good day, but there was no way in hell, no way that things could go this south.

A bad day was when you got in trouble during work, when someone's kid spilled your burning hot coffee all over your new white clothes. Bad was when...

Bad was when Gojo Satoru wasn't here. 

Terrible was when he was. 

"Hi." He holds his hand up, palm open, fingers spread into a wave. "It's been a while."

Your chest tightens, air contracting the thing like a damn accordion. He's definitely a fair distance from you, standing beneath the trees, far from the stairs leading up to the building behind you both. Traffic bustles a couple more feet away, and that same song, on repeat, buzzes in your ear like a mosquito.

Love. You seem to feel everything but that at the sight of his face. 

"Gojo." The breeze slaps against your skin, stinging as it leaves it's harsh marks. Your fingers travel down to the hems of your skirt, and you fidget with the cloth. 

You're anxious, not as you envisioned the hundreds of other times you mulled over this sort of situation. Instead of holding your head up high, you're cowering, heart wrenching, the lines you so carefully wrote, seared into your mind escaping your tongue. 

"Gojo?" Ha. Ha. Real funny, you think as he mocks you. 

It makes you angry. Why did he, how did he have, how was he not– where was his shame? After five years? Did he just realize you were gone after all this time? 

You don't want to ask, but you do.

"Why are you–"

"What happened to Satoru? Don't be so formal. It's only been five years."

"The name disgusts me."

You're silent as he steps forward, a bouquet of flowers tucked underneath his armpit. He's decked out in all black, not that you care, or that it's any different from how he was a few years back. If anything, he's the exact same. Unchanged. 

It makes your blood boil. 

"Ah. Look at you. You've changed."

He chides, crouching down as if he's trying to taunt a child. You bite back the strange croak in your throat.

"Your turn. What about me? Say something." 

No. Please. "Don't do this to me." 

His lips, as if pulled by a set of strings, ghost a smile. Those eyes exposed, bare through those glasses as they reflect the pathetic image of you. Your expression which tries to hard to look expressionless. The scrunch of your eyebrows as you look down at him. 

No, he's looking down on you. Even though it should be the opposite. 

"You look the same." It's robotic, the usual cadence of your voice he so remembers void of emotion. 

It's true. He does. 

"Oh? You're cold. So cold." He tilts his head, a strand of hair falling in between his eyes as he gives you a slight pout. 

And, you? You're not the same as you were before. 

"I know." You step back. "People tell me that all the time."

You feel so... so...

Was pathetic the right word? It didn't even do the situation justice.

Wow. Honestly, you never wanted to admit this, but you've always imagined this sort of thing happening. A reunion, to put it simply and you'd always imagine such witty responses, such great comebacks. 

However, you're no different from everyone else. Not underneath the umbrella of fear. However, you're not even shielded from those raindrops of confrontation.

You're soaked. The umbrella's defective. You can't bring yourself to say the words you practiced, to put an end to the tortuous fire in your heart. 

Because as much as you want to hear those answers, you're afraid of the void that lies beneath them. 

"Is that something to brag about these days?" He straightens up, the plastic lining of the bouquet crinkling. 

You shrug as answer, but your eyes stick onto the floor like a piece of gum. They've rolled out of their sockets, breeze guiding them along the concrete. 

Satoru whistles for a moment, eyes careful as they study your figure. 

A white button up shirt, tucked into a pencil skirt, glasses that usually wouldn't suit you because you were the contact lens type, flats because he could never imagine you walking down a flight of stairs in heels. 

Though you've fallen to the inevitable concept of change, you're still...

Oh. He's forgot to mention that you've been listening to music this whole time. It's noticeable now. Partly because you're wearing wired headphones, and partly because he can hear the faintest bit of singing coming from your direction. 

"Whatcha listening to?" 

You peek up, and for the first time in years, he's properly– no, you're making eye contact with him. 

"It's the new XXX song. Do you remember when I..."

What the hell? 

He never tried to stop you back then. 

Why would he remember a single thing about you?

"Nevermind." You look away, and he swears he sees the faintest film of water pooling against your eyes. "You wouldn't know."

Yeah. You're the same as ever. 

"Oh. You still like that group?"

You nod, and he swears he can see the faint image of you from highschool. Nodding along to the sound of your mp3 player, busted around the corners as it rests on the edge of your desk, threatening to fall. And when it did, he'd usually catch it before pulling out your earbuds. 

Then you'd grumble at him, call him a "bastard" or a "piece of shit". And he'd laugh, loud enough that people would turn their heads. 

Weird. A wave of nostalgia hits him. 

"Ha." The thought of it makes him snicker. God. He was such an asshole. "Haha."

Look at how the tables turned. It's painful that you're so rough around the edges now. You're barely smiling, and now there's an offended look trespassing your lips and eyes. 

You're angry again. So angry that the image of your smile is trampled on, dirtied by a frown. 

It's like throwing away a perfectly good slice of cake.

Satoru decides he hates it. The look of it is sickening, the thought of it is unappetizing, the existence of it is...

"What are you–"

"Come back to Jujutsu High and help me teach." 

As he expects, and the revelation behind it frustrates him, you've gone completely unresponsive. What he's realized is that you're just existing through your life. 

You've been wasting time. And now you're just going to ignore him. No matter how right he is. 

"Y/N. Can you hear me?"

You don't answer for a long while, slowly ripping out each earbud as you stuff it into the pocket of your shirt. The question, the request is... it's...

Disgustingly selfish. Did he only think for himself? Did he only care for himself?

Of course he did. Of course he did. 

He's Gojo Satoru. 

"Why did you come here? Go home." 

"For you. Come back and be a Jujutsu sorcerer again–" He doesn't waste a singular second, as if he was reading off a script to some terrible horror movie. 

You feel sick. 

"No." You spit out. "You don't know what I want, you can't tell me what to do either."

You want to laugh, you can't believe all this bullshit.

You can't believe that after all the trouble you went through to fit in, you're going back to square one. Like a baby trying to learn how to walk all over again.

All the trouble you went through to convince yourself that you were still special despite being so, despite living so normally now.

All the trouble you went through to ignore those cursed spirits.

All those sacrifices you made, those risks you took. 

You can't believe that it's all going down the drain like this, like your struggles are the water to someone else's shower. 

Could you be easily discarded like that? Like trash? 

Wrong. Incorrect. Wrong. Nothing could be more... wrong.

No, you're different. Important. Nothing like trash. Incomparable. If there was a mold, you'd break it. If there was an expectation, you'd exceed it. If there was...

If there was...

There's nothing because he... he's...

Gojo Satoru is stepping on your sob story like it's a  piece of gum, smearing it with the sole of his shoe. 

He tries to intervene with your peace, picking apart at your facade, your play-pretend act of tranquility. 

"I know what you want–"

You don't even give him the chance to finish. 

"It's been five years."

He knows. You don't have to remind him that it's been that long. 

"So?"

"You don't know a thing about me, Gojo."

"I do." He steps forward. "And what do those people back there know about you?" Then he points back at your workplace. 

You grimace, aware that what you're about to say is an obvious, a bitter lie. He knows it too, but you say it anyway. 

"They know a lot about me." You bite back, desperately trying to save face. "So much more than you do."

When you force that out, it dawns on you. The fact that you have to lie about something so insignificant to prove that you're doing just fine to some asshole you haven't seen in five years. 

"Like what? Your favorite member in that stupid boyband?"

"They're not stupid! Okay? They're– They're...!" You stumble over your words, voice coming out louder than you anticipate. 

Damn it. Now everyone around you is staring like a bunch of sheep, the same kind back at work, relishing in an argument– no, a conversation – that they had no rightful part in. 

"They don't know anything about you, do they?" He whispers, a pitiful expression on his face when he sees how worked up you've gotten. "Be honest with me then. What do you want?"

"Honest? You want me to be honest?"

"Well, yes. I'd like that."

"Fine then. I want to fight you right now because I hate you."

"Sure."

"You make me sick."

"Okay."

"I want to–"

"I already said okay."

...

[dual1pa]

20 years later

joel miller x reader (use of she/her pronouns)

content warnings: language, terror, smut, p in v sex, oral (f receiving)

A/N: Might not line up with the plot of the series, not proofread, enjoy!!

2003

They felt like the talk of the town. Everyone they knew was encouraging them to get together already.

She spent most of the time with Joel and his daughter, Sarah. When she wasn't working, she picked up Sarah from school and helped make dinner for her and Joel when he had long nights at work.

She made sure to stay with Sarah until she fell asleep, then sat down on the couch to catch up on her reading. Each night around 10 or 11 o'clock, Joel would come huffing and puffing through the front door—soon discussing the events of his day to her.

She loved Joel—not that he would ever know. He treated her well. He would always call to make sure she got home alright, zoom straight over to her house to fix anything that went wrong, and overall cared about her.

However, the two of you have never kissed. She definitely had thoughts of her lips connecting to his, moving in with Sarah and him, marrying him, sleeping with him. She wanted all of that—but was too afraid to tell Joel her feelings, so she kept them to herself.

"Rough night?" she asked.

"Usual," he plopped himself down on the couch next to her, "Thanks for picking Sarah up. I know how much she hates walking home or taking the bus."

"It's no problem, Joel," she said, "I like helping you guys out."

"Don't know what I'd do without you," he smiled.

The two of them stared at each other for a few moments, when she spoke up to break the silence, "I better get going. Got an early day at the hospital tomorrow."

She worked as an ER nurse. Yes, she had weird hours at first but the pay was good. She finally gained the courage to ask her boss for 8-5 or 7-4 positions instead of overnights. It was really getting to her head.

"Okay," he said, getting up from his spot on the couch and opening up the door for her.

While watching her walk towards her car, he noticed that she was shivering due to the cool air.

"Hey, wait a minute," he said, quickly running back into his house and quickly reemerging with a flannel.

"Here, keep it. You need it more than I do," he chuckled.

"Thanks, Joel. I would freeze without you," she joked.

He loved her and he knew it.

They were both so naive.

2023

It was all a nightmare.

After that late night in September of 2003... nothing was the same.

She still remembers that night as if it happened yesterday.

When she got home from Joel's place, she did her normal nightly routine: wash her face, brush her teeth, put pajamas on, and sit in bed to watch some TV. When really focusing on the news, things felt... off.

She thought nothing of it and went to bed.

She was rudely awakened by the noises of people outside. She took a look outside to see chaos. Things were on fire, and people were panicking in the streets. She watched as people ran from other people. However, she backed away from the window in fear after witnessing one person eat another....almost like zombie behavior.

She quickly ran to check to make sure every door and window was locked in the house—they were. She grabbed the phone and began calling everyone she knew: friends, family, and co-workers. None of them picked up the phone. With shaky fingers, she dialed Joel's home phone.

Nothing.

She was in tears. The apocalypse was among her and she was alone.

—

She jerked herself awake—another nightmare.

She rubbed her eyes and did her best to forget about the horrible dream she had.

After September 2003, she found herself a group of people that ended up calling themselves "The Fireflies," which helped to find a cure for the infected. At first, she was terrified of the future. Now, with the help of the organization she's a part of, she has hope. Hope in finding a cure.

She does think about Joel from time to time. Wondered what could have been if things went right. She did regret not telling Joel how she really felt. To this day, she still loves him. Nothing will ever change that.

However, What if she stayed with Joel that night? Where would she be? Safe? or Dead? She didn't really care... as long as she was with him. If she ever came into contact with him again, she would tell him how much she loves him.

She also wondered how Sarah was—oh how much she would have grown by now... had to be at least 30 years old.

She was located in Detroit, Michigan: the unofficial official headquarters of the fireflies. Her job was pretty simple: keep an eye on her patients. Since she had a medical background, she is able to give people shots and can help with questions that anyone may have.

She put on a pair of her least dirty jeans along with Joel's flannel she kept after all those years. She missed him so much and it was the only thing that had her thinking that he was with her.

The dusty air filled her lungs as she walked out the front doors of her apartment building. While on the way to the firefly tent, she smiled and waved to everyone she knew. Since their little town was so small, everyone knew each other. All of the newcomers were quick to become noticed.

As she walked into the tent, she walked toward her friend, Erica, to tells her what she has to do for the day.

"You got a new kid today, just came in early this morning actually," Erica said, giving her a clipboard of all of the kid's information—which wasn't much. All they really knew about the kid is that her name is Ellie and she was bitten, but hasn't been infected.

"Thanks," she said.

"Careful. She's kind of an asshole," Erica replied.

"Okay who do we have here—" she walked into the room and instantly dropped the clipboard.

"Joel?" she spoke.

The man in front of her was just as shocked as she was. Before he could speak, she jumped into his arms, hugging him at tight as she could, and he did the same.

Even though he was dirty, his familiar scent that she knew all too well was still there.

"I'm- holy fuck," he kept repeating her name over and over again, not believing the woman that he still loved after all those years was right in front of him once again.

He felt on her flannel, "You still have my flannel? After all this time?" he smiled, resting his hands on her cheeks.

"It was the only thing I had left of you. Oh my god! You're alive," she felt herself tearing up just looking at him.

Ellie spoke, "Um... hate to ruin this special moment but can we just get to the point of why I'm locked up in this chair?"

She stared blankly at Joel's face, instantly coming back down to earth. She turned to Ellie and quickly examined her cut.

After the end of Ellie's examination, other doctors took Ellie in for more testing... which lead to Joel and her alone.

"Oh my god. I can't believe it's really you. 20 years later and you still have the same face. It's like you didn't age," she exclaimed.

"What happened to you that night?"

"I tried to call you," she explained, "No one picked up. Hours later of me just sitting in my house not knowing what the hell to do I went outside and snuck around until I found people who weren't infected. I've been with them ever since. Now, I can officially call myself a firefly."

"Everything happened so quickly," Joel said, "I lost Sarah, darling, I fucking lost her," he cried.

She took him into her arms once again and comforted him. She could feel herself crying once again as she realized that Sarah was gone... forever.

"Ellie is going to be here for a while, do you want to come back to my place so we can talk more in private," she asked

"Yes," he breathed.

For a few hours, the two spent the evening discussing what happened over the last twenty years. When she found the right moment, she was going to bring up "them."

"Joel," she scooted closer to him on the couch and grabbed his hand, "I made myself promise that I would tell you this if I ever saw you again."

He looked at her with a concerned face, waiting to hear your next sentence, "I love you. I've loved you since 2003. I was too big of a pussy to actually tell you. When the outbreak happened and throughout all these years, I've been kicking myself as I never got to tell you my true feelings for you. Every time I picked Sarah up and we made dinner together... it made me wish I lived with you guys. I pictured a life together, wanting to get married. Of course, the outbreak fucked that all up."

She began to cry, thinking about what could have been.

He let out a breath of relief, "I honestly thought you were going to tell me to fuck off and that you had a boyfriend."

His statement made her laugh, "No one could come close to you Joel."

"Well, I guess I'm relieved to hear that because I haven't been able to get you out of my mind either. When I lost Sarah, I was alone. I ended up in Boston, I lost Tommy along the way and I've just been so lonely. Thank God you're safe. I was only thinking the worst," he said.

"In all seriousness, I loved you since I laid my eyes on you. After Sarah's mom passed away, you were always there for her and always knew how to cheer her up when she didn't think it was possible to. You were also there for me too. Obviously, those feelings I have for you weren't there yet, but overtime, they hit me like a fucking truck. I love you so much. I love you," he took her cheeks in his hands and leaned in to kiss her.

It was like fireworks were going off all around them. It finally happened.

At first, the kiss felt innocent. Then, he got more into it. His tongue gently slid over your bottom lip as you opened your mouth for him to explore.

"Taste even better than I imagine," he laid her down on the couch and slid himself between her thighs.

Her hands roamed his back, eventually leading to his chest to unbutton his shirt. As quickly as she could, she ripped off his shirt and flew it across the room. He unbuttoned her flannel for your bra to be on full display. He shoved the cups to the side to unveil your breasts.

"Finally and even more gorgeous than what I imagined," he took one of your nipples into your mouth, lightly biting the sensitive skin. Moments later, he did the same motion to the other one. The assault on your body caused you to moan out a long "fuck."

She felt her way down to his groin, already feeling how hard he was for her. She squeezed his bulge and eventually pulled his pants down enough to let his cock spring free. She removed her jeans. She was desperate for him to be inside her.

As she was lining himself up to her entrance, he stopped her.

"Wait," he breathed, "Just feeling your wet pussy on my cock will make me come. I need to taste you first, baby, okay?"

She sunk her teeth into her bottom lip but quickly moaned out profanities as she felt his tongue circle around her clit. He took his time with her. He wanted her to truly have a great few orgasms. He licked her hole and spit on her clit. As soon as he was ready to make her cum, he sucked on her clit. Hard. He could tell he was going a good job as he felt her pull on his hair tightly.

"Joel, fuck," she said with her loud moans. He knew just how to touch her as if he's been doing it for years.

"Come on, baby. Give me a good one," he wrapped his lips around her clit more. Her voice went silent and her body went stiff as she was up high in the clouds. Her thighs tightened around his head, but his grip was stronger as he pushed her thighs back as far as they could go. Her grip on his hair was trying to pull him off as she was so overstimulated.

Once he was finished, he crawled back up her body. Once his cock landed on her oversensitive clit, it caused her to twitch.

She giggled as she was still coming down from her high.

"My God, Joel. You sure know how to make a woman come," he lazily wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Only for you, baby. You're mine and I'm yours," he whispered in her ear, causing her wetness to return.

He looked down at where their bodies were about to connect to watch as he slowly guided his cock inside her.

She hated to admit it, but it's been a while since she's had sex.

As soon as she felt Joel's cock inside her, it was painful at first, but once he was balls deep, she felt her orgasm on the rise once again.

He gave her some time to get used to his length as he kept a close watch on her facial expressions to make sure he wasn't hurting her.

"Fuck Joel, your cock feels so good," she moaned.

"I've been waiting to be inside you for 20 years," he planted kisses on her chest, "You're so beautiful. I love you."

"I love you too, now move baby. I want to come."

He did as he was told, starting off slow but chasing their highs and going as fast as he could. The couch shook as Joel fucked her, she wanted nothing more.

After a few more thrusts, Joel took himself out of her and came all over her chest. She continued to rub her clit as she was at the height of her orgasm. Before she could finish, he replaced her thumb with his and talked her through her second orgasm. They both loved it.

Joel did his best to make room for the both of them on the couch, but she was pretty much on top of him as they cuddled. She looked down to see his come still on her. He watched as she swiped her finger through his spend and placed it between her lips. He could feel himself growing hard once again.

"Come back with me," he said, "I want to be with you through all this. I want you by my side."

"Joel, I-,"

"I know you like it here and love what you're doing with the fireflies but there's people in Boston who need you. We need more experienced and trained nurses."

She definitely loved what she did, but she wanted to be with Joel more.

"Okay."

"Really?"

"Yes, I love you Joel."

"I wish there was a way we could get married," he joked.

"I think I know someone that can help with that, I know a priest around here that owes me a favor anyways. Let's get married, Joel."

[resident-mercie]

Carlos Oliveira Fic - Halcyon Days (NSFW). (Chapter 1).

notes: fem!reader, NSFW mentions, slow-burn, canon violence depictions.

➵ A slow-burning love story with Carlos Oliveira that transcends the apocalypse.

1998. The Raccoon City incident. Yet also, the day I met him.

I remember it quite vividly, as you can imagine. One day you’re living your monotonous life in the suburbs, next, your life is in tatters, to say the least. I was young and dumb then, in my twenties. No amount of preparation beforehand could’ve prepared me for Raccoon City. It started off mysteriously enough, remembering how myself and my coworkers would chat about the news reports we heard on the radio during our daily commutes. Bizarre murders in the outskirts of the town, yet the corpses had part of their remains almost bitten off. We just chalked it down to some wild dogs or coyotes taking an opportunity to get a little free food. Yet the reality was so much darker. There I was one evening, preparing for bed, and that’s when the apocalyptic uproar began. Screams, then sirens, then the sound of them. In my rush to see the ever growing commotion, my world turned upside down. The cinema, that I’d visit every weekend as a kid, was alight, the posters of new premieres reduced to nothing but ash. The donut store, that was usually full of workers making a slight detour from their commute home, was eerily silent amidst the cacophony of apocalypse.

It was entrancing, like my own little world. A world so vastly different from the monotony of my own, that it was painfully jarring. So jarring, that I didn’t notice the creature lumbering towards me—

A sharp whistle shook me out of the trance I was trapped in, as I stared at the beast that fell at my side, its crimson liquid splattering across the debris-ridden sidewalk. The reality dawned on me, as the creature squelched beside me, a slight wail emanating from its jaws.

It’s an apocalypse. A fucking apocalypse.

It was like watching a horror flick cliche in front of me. This creature is a zombie. A zombie, in my hometown.

“D’you wanna get eaten? Don’t just stand there!”

A hand grabbed mine, and I was back to reality, grounded at last. It was adorned in a fingerless glove, yet the fingers were quite coarse. Unlike the creature at my feet, the hand of my rescuer was warm, one of the few glimpses of humanity I would experience for a long while.

The hand pulled me away from the scene, as the monster by my feet began to reanimate itself slowly. Half aware of the situation I was in, I let myself be pulled away, witnessing the danger unfold in front of my eyes. Panic. Running. Screaming.

Everyone was going the opposite way to us, a realisation I made as my trance began to end, and the real world dawned on me.

"Why are they going—"

It was if he read my mind.

"I'm taking you somewhere safe. We've been converting the subway station into a safe spot. You're safe now, but you have to trust me."

You have to trust me.

For the first time since my rescuer grabbed ahold of my hand, I finally looked at him. He was adorned in military gear, underneath being a tight-fitting black t-shirt, a slight hole made in its sleeve. His forearms were muscular, one being used to guard myself from any incoming threat, while the other had an assault rifle of sorts hoisted upon his shoulder for easy access. His skin was a tanned olive shade, his forehead beading with sweat. There was a caring, yet determined, look that was plastered across his face.

I could trust him. I will trust him.

We kept running – it was the only thing we could do. Glass kept shattering. The screams were growing quieter now, a feeling that made me sick to the very core of my stomach. It could only mean one thing, really – that many of the people that we had ran past just moments before were about to meet a fate worse than death.

"Through here. Quickly." His voice was one that was firm, yet also one with concern.

“What the hell is this place?”

“It’s the subway. Me and uh, my gang, have been converting the train carriages into a safe place of sorts. You’re okay now.”

I nodded, the whole situation being a bitter pill to have to swallow. I could hardly get my words out of my mouth, unable to fully comprehend the extent of the horrors I bore witness to today.

“Why did you save me?”

“Because—“ He began, but his speech faltered, as if he struggled to put his thoughts into words. “Ah, I mean, it’s my duty. Do you mind if you come on down to the first aid carriage? Need to check you over for cuts and the like. Can’t be bringing an infected into the safe place, y’know?’

I nodded, before the words fell out of my mouth, unable to control my racing thoughts any longer.

“I need to know your name. You risked your life for me, and I don’t even know who you are.”

His gaze softened a little, turning to face me with a smile of reassurance.

“Oliveira. Carlos Oliveira. Now, shall we get going? I can’t have you turning on me.”

There was even something reassuring in his laughter, in his humour, and in his smile. I gave a smile back, albeit an exhausted one, before following him into the sanctum of the subway.

“Okay, I just need you to stay put here for a while. Any unusual symptoms? Wanting to eat me because I look delicious? Anything like that?” Carlos smiled, producing a half full first aid kit from an area of the carriage.

I shook my head. “No, nothing like that.”

“Boo. All the ladies usually want a piece of Carlos, zombie or not.” He rolled his eyes jokingly, taking an ear thermometer from the kit. “Do you mind if I take your temperature at all? Standard procedure, of course.”

“Of course.” I leant forward, cringing slightly as the thermometer entered my ear.

Carlos leant forward, his sweet breath hitting my cheeks. “I’m sorry if this hurts.” His voice was lowered, raspy. Being so close to the man who just saved my life was a little infatuating, to say the least.

“No, no. It’s okay.” My breathing grew unsteady, unable to cope with the closeness of his presence.

Surely I wasn’t in love with a guy I met fifteen minutes prior?

“Your temperature is fine.” Carlos frowned, removing the disposable cap from the thermometer and placing it back in the dishevelled first aid kit. "Are you sure you’re alright, though? You seem a little on edge. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Anything.

Every cell in my body screamed, pleading with me to ask for something. Anything. I was completely and utterly infatuated with Carlos Oliveira. I wanted to kiss him, feel my body melt into his, have him rail the ever living shit out of me in this godforsaken carriage—

“Could, you, uh, give me a hug?”

“I mean, so long as you don’t turn. But being eaten by a cutie would be a good way to go, I suppose.”

[tokiro07]

In a recent interview, Eiichiro Oda said that he probably won't do any more manga after One Piece (or at least nothing huge) because the world he constructed for One Piece inadvertently allowed him to explore pretty much every type of story he wanted to: Mock Town was a Western, Egghead is both a sci-fi and a murder mystery, Thriller Bark was a horror, etc. He never did it, but Oda probably could have found a way to work in a high school drama or romantic comedy if he'd really wanted to. I would argue that's how the Hungry Days promotion came about, he probably wanted to see it explored at least a little bit but couldn't quite find a good excuse for it

Undead Unluck, as I think at least one of us has mentioned before, is very similar: it can be whatever it wants to be whenever it wants to be. A sci-fi horror against the emotion-eating aliens on the space station, a zombie apocalypse Western against Spoil, a wuxia against Feng, competitive gaming against Spring, sports against Void, and now of course the high school AU centered around Chikara; Undead Unluck can do it all! If we end up going into Lucy's mind and it becomes a swords and sorcery fantasy with Lucy captive in a castle by a dragonified Ruin, would any of you really be surprised? Would any of you even complain? I wouldn't, and in fact I hope it happens now. That'd be such a funny way to get both Ruin and Lucy back into the main story

I don't know if I've ever really talked about it before, but there are certain niches that Jump manga fill. I don't mean in the sense of genre like sports or gag manga, I mean more thematically. When My Hero Academia started, the consensus was that it was the "new Naruto," with its plucky underdog protagonist competing with a cruel and prodigious rival and a society that discredits him for the circumstances of his birth. Black Clover draws inspiration from a ton of big name manga, but Bleach is probably the one that it best resembles in the structure of its world (the Clover Kingdom resembles Soul Society, the Magic Knight squads resemble the Thirteen Court Squads, and the Grimoires are basically simplified Zanpakutou)

Over the years, I've seen many things take major inspiration from Naruto, Bleach, Dragon Ball, etc., but shockingly, there was a long stretch where I never saw anything try to emulate One Piece, at least not in a way that was particularly obvious. The closest was Toriko, creating wild and imaginative animals, plants, etc. the same way that One Piece creates its islands, but nothing had a cast that felt reminiscent to me

Interestingly, the first one that I noticed that felt like what I was looking for was Dr. Stone, and that only sunk in for me when Senku had his group build a boat and put up a sail with their own unique symbol. I realized in that moment that where Toriko had covered the spirit of adventure that One Piece had, Dr. Stone covered the spirit of friendship and togetherness: every time a dilemma came up, the solution was almost always finding a new ally and awakening their talents, applying them in a way that they'd never thought to before, or reconciling with an old enemy for the sake of progress. "My friends are here to do the things I can't, and I'm here to do what they can't." This is one of the core tenets of One Piece, and while it took me a while to notice, it was equally a part of Dr. Stone's core as well

Undead Unluck does something pretty similar, though not as overtly, since the cast don't really have neat roles like "navigator" or "doctor" or "chef;" instead, everyone has their areas of expertise that can be used in multiple situations, so the individuals best suited for each situation are carefully selected, and if none are available, the hunt begins for someone who is. I think this didn't sink in because it didn't become nearly as prevalent until after the timeloop, but in retrospect, the first half of the story was like the pre-timeskip Straw Hats', unprepared and unable to reach the world's ceiling when finally faced with it, only to come back stronger and wiser in their journey to come back together

Coupled with its ability to be (Chucky voice) genre-fluid, Undead Unluck has unexpectedly become in my opinion a more than worthy successor to One Piece's particular niche in Jump. I've had this thought for a while now, but I think that Undead Unluck might actually be a good glimpse into what One Piece would have been like if Oda had been able to stick to his original five-year plan. It isn't able to take nearly as much time to flesh out its world, but its streamlined approach elegantly allows us to get to know enough about the cast to be invested while still allowing attentive viewers to pick up on fine details. Where One Piece ballooned to be a 30-year venture because Oda kept having more ideas he wanted to share and angles he wanted to analyze, Undead Unluck seems to have a stronger clarity to its vision and commitment to ensuring that vision is realized ASAP without sacrificing any of the essentials. Neither approach is wrong, it's just good to see that there is in fact a world that exists where One Piece would have been able to be just as solidly executed even without entertaining every whim and flight of fancy that its author could dream of

Of course, One Piece is still going, and likely will be when Undead Unluck naturally concludes, so calling UU its successor is definitely a bit of an overstatement, but my main point is that I'm glad that we're starting to see authors who aren't afraid of sharing One Piece's niche, and more importantly are doing it in a way that's fairly subtle, but identifiable. It's an extremely comforting sign for the rapidly approaching post-One Piece world, and I can't wait to see what fills the coming power vacuum

[cvlutos]

TWISTED WONDERLAND: ZOMBIE AU

Overview:

Origins: The Isle of Woe, Research Facility S.T.Y.X. - Project: Ignihyde

Disease X-2579, or Gene X. Feasts on those with weak magic and immune systems, sucking them dry and using their corpse as a vessel. Not natural born disease, man-made. By Dr. Shroud and his team of researchers so obsessed with the dead.

After the outbreak, Dr. Shroud went completely missing, and no one can find where he is, much less end the rising of those with Gene X Parasite, also known as Zombies or Shades, which S.T.Y.X referred to them as.

══════ ♡ ══════

You consider yourself put together, even after the world went to hell. You lived alone, secluded, far, far away from anyone and everyone. With no one but you and your beloved cat friend that you saved a year ago. You live in a small house, with a garden and a well-made fence, and an old pickup truck that amazingly still worked.

You haven’t had interaction with another human in months, and you would like to keep it that way. Yet fate has other plans.

The SavannaClaw Raiders, a group of mercenaries that are constantly on the move and hunt for anything and everything, to raid and pillage. A pack of wild animals that you had the very unfortunate fate of running into. Jack Howl, a lone wolf that stumbled across your home, and in exchange for food and water, the mercenaries would never know about you. So you agreed, yet it wasn’t mercenaries you had to worry about. Jack had unknowingly led a group of shades to your home. Forcing you on the run, with very little to survive.

══════ ♡ ══════

Information:

Gene X ~ A parasite that finds its victims with low levels of magic and feasts on their magic power, before eating at their flesh from the inside out, before using them as a puppet to find more victims. They’re asexual reproductive parasites and can grow in the 10000s in one singular body. The higher one’s magic power and skill, the harder it is for the parasite to take over.

Zombies or Shades ~ The undead, it feasts on human flesh as a way of transferring the parasite. They have a hive-like mind, and unlike that singular, once-in-a-group, Gene X parasites grow in intelligence.

NRC ~ Night Raven City, a slum city on a remote island, once a school, but now a place of dangerous activities. Sickness and Gene X outbreaks are common, with a strong anti-shade force, known as the Octavinelle.

RSA ~ Royal Sword Association, a group of high-standing officials, in charge of finding a cure and attempting to restore what once was. They have had little to no success.

NBC ~ Noble Bell City, a highly gated city, that’s extremely protected and one of the safest places within the world, yet few can get in, and most die on the journey there.

══════ ♡ ══════

Heartslabyul:

~ Territory: Queendom of Roses

Heavily militaristic location. One built on heavy order and control. As well as being extremely isolated, they rarely leave their large island, and have a total of one ever major outbreak, but as has been completely dealt with and have not had one since.

SavannaClaw:

~ Territory: Sunset Savanna

Mercenaries. Due to the large size of the Sunset Savanna, it was by far too late to create proper order and the outbreak went quickly, taking several lives and creating large pockets.

Octavinelle:

~ Territory: NRC

Anti-Shade force located within NRC. They’re a shady business and often create chaos, to simply control the chaos. It’s unsafe within their care. Some say they do experiments on the innocent to find a cure.

Scarabia:

~ Territory: Scalding Sands

Hot deserts. Which is heavily overrun, due to its remote location, many people fled and run there for safety. It’s unsafe, yet an extremely kind place.

Pomefiore:

~ Territory: Shaftlands

A large town, surrounded by gigantic stone walls, it is almost beautiful in a scary way. There is no room for error and those who mess up will be immediately killed. Rumors say that the leader of Pomefiore has a Gene X parasite. Nothing is confirmed.

Ignhyde:

~ Territory: Isle of Woe

Some say that you’ll see glimpses of them and that they aren’t truly dead. Many believed that Dr. Shroud is simply running a horrible experiment and truly has a cure. Does he?

Diasomnia:

~ Territory: Briar Valley

Secluded and Dark. Nothing is known about Briar Valley or Diasomnia.

══════ ♡ ══════

The engine roars loudly, and you hate it. Despise the loudness that drew your attention within the dead of night. The road collapsed and crumbled, causing your old pickup truck to bounce and jolt, shaking you around carelessly as you drove through the dark. Your window rolled down just slightly to hear anything. The shades weren’t good in the dark, but sound, they excelled at it well. They couldn’t smell human flesh, but they could easily camouflage with your very surroundings until you were completely trapped.

You hear a familiar set of groans, and you slam the brakes, lurching forward, your chest slamming into the wheel. You move quickly, turning off the engine and falling completely silent, counting your very breaths. It is silent. You can hear the rush of wind, and the sounds of crickets chirping. It’s loud.

As long as you remained calm, you’ll be alright. You shift in your seat, hand grabbing a longer blade, climbing till your back was to the wheel and your feet on the old seat cushions. They come from the back, never the front. You hear the groans grow closer, there’s only one, and you shudder at the soft wind. You can hardly see. Your tongue licks your dry lips, fluttering your eyes closed, trying to stop the pounding of your heart.

You hear the sound of something hitting the back of your truck, and your eyes fly open. Were your doors locked? If there’s more than one, they can open your doors, they could get inside. You’ll die.

Your car door side was, you know it was, yet the door on the passenger side wasn’t. You squint and you can see the gray notch upward, showing that it was indeed unlocked. Who unlocked your door? You hear a breathy inhale, like someone with their mouth permanently open and like they had several holes punched in their lungs.

The sound came from that side.

Lowering yourself, your crawl slowly along the old seats, feeling sweat gather on your brow. Another groan, louder, attentive. Like it knew you were there.

Another bang, harder than before that shook the truck. You want to cry. To beg it to leave, but if it hears you…. You’ll die. But as long as you remain quiet, you’ll be fine. Your fingers slide against the leathery plastic side of the door, feeling blindly for the lock. With another bang, nearly pushing the truck up on its side, you slid back, in your panic your feet hit the driver's side door to keep yourself from falling back. Your feet hit the inside of the with a loud thud, and your heart drops.

A shrill scream echoes, one that hurts your ears and you grunt, flying to lock the passenger side door. Caring not to remain quiet. A loud thunk follows as the stick slips into the door, locking it.

This shriek sets off a chain reaction. You had been surrounded. You hear bodies slam and push at your truck, ripping at the metal, trying to yank the heavy truck over. Your body tumbles, as your grip the seats to keep balance, looking out the seat windows and seeing deformed, grotesque faces, some missing teeth and eyes, dried blood and mucus covering their grey faces, as they shriek, dirty hands pounding and clawing at your window.

They know you're inside.

You can hear them climb onto your truck, hitting the back windows, screaming and screaming. You desperately look for an exit, desperately looking for a way out. They come from the back, never the front. You lunge forward, ramming your body into the windshield, which shatters in a matter of seconds, and you tumble over the hood in a matter of seconds. Ignoring the glass that cut your skin and ripped your clothing, you land on your stomach, knocking the wind from your lungs, but they don’t seem and notice you. Still determined to break into your truck. You can’t outrun a Shade, so your slip underneath the truck, ignoring the rocking swaying motions that seemed to shake the very ground. You cover your mouth, stifling your panting and tears that threatened to fall and lying still on your stomach.

They would get bored eventually….

Right?

ⓒ 2023 love-thanatopsis — all rights reserved. Any sort of plagiarizing, copying, modifying, translating, editing of my works are strictly prohibited.

[coraniaid]

The thing I find frustrating about Dead Man’s Party is that it’s almost a very good episode.  In fact for the first thirty or so minutes I’d argue that it actually is a very good episode.

As with Anne, there’s been a definite jump in production standards compared to the first two seasons.  Things look really good this season.  And there are lots of nice individual moments to this episode, most of them involving Giles.  That minute when he’s alone in the kitchen, where you can see how relieved he is to have Buffy back, before he visibly makes an effort to compose himself again.  Hotwiring his own car to escape a zombie outbreak.  “Do you like my mask?  Isn’t it pretty?  It raises the dead.  Americans!”  Threatening Snyder at the end to make him accept Buffy back in school. (Principal Snyder’s great in this episode too, actually.)  

And – although I’m pretty sure this is the last we’ll ever hear of it – learning that one of Willow’s first forays into magic over the summer involved an unsuccessful attempt to “communicate with the spirit world” does fit in nicely with the popular fandom take that Willow got into magic, in part, because of how much she missed Jenny Calendar. I mean, who exactly in the spirit world are we meant to assume Willow was trying to contact, anyway? And I like the spooky dream sequence with Buffy wandering a deserted high school. I like the little ominous dropped hints about the Mayor.

Plus, as a big fan of accidental foreshadowing, I think it’s neat that only a few seconds after trying to tell Buffy how important magic is to her now Willow cheerfully says [admittedly about something else entirely] that “it’s like a drug!”.  I even enjoy the monster of the week plot – as metaphors go it’s not subtle, but thirty-six episodes into the series we probably shouldn’t be expecting subtle.  Why would the writers start now?

But then there’s the last fifteen minutes.  Or, really, just two pivotal scenes in those last fifteen minutes.  This is the part that I’d struggle to argue is very good.  Or even to argue isn’t very bad.  And unfortunately I think the whole episode stands or falls on the strength (or otherwise) of these scenes.  They’re the foundation on which the whole episode rests.  And they don’t work for me at all.

Now, granted, it definitely makes sense that things between Buffy and her friends and family would be strained after she gets back.  She’s been gone for months, she never wrote or called any of them, and we saw just last episode how much they all missed her.   Having things be tense and weird and uncomfortable was absolutely the right choice for this episode.  That’s part of why the first thirty minutes work in the first place.

The problem, I think, is that there’s a disconnect between the arguments and events the episode shows us happening and the conclusions it seems to want us to come to.  Yes, it makes sense that things are weird and uncomfortable, but the episode comes down very heavily in favor of the idea that Buffy was somehow uniquely in the wrong for running away from town last season and needs to tell everyone how sorry she is, even though what it actually shows us is a Buffy who is desperately trying to get back in touch with her friends after the worst few months of her life while they make no effort to reciprocate, deliberately make plans to avoid talking to her, gossip about her behind her behind her back, and … well, be Xander. 

(I still do think Buffy and Xander’s friendship over the course of the show is really well done and really important, but on the basis of this episode alone I don’t understand why Buffy even lets him speak to her.  Why exactly is he being written as her disappointed step-dad in this episode?)

Granted, Buffy is not entirely blameless here.  At the start of the episode, she’s the one to shut down the others’ first efforts to talk about where she’s been for the past three months (although, equally, they’re all very quick to give up on those efforts once they’ve been rebuffed).  And she does keep telling people they “wouldn’t understand” what she’s been through while clearly expecting them to do exactly that.  And you can see why Willow and Joyce would be upset by finding Buffy in her room packing to leave again; it’s a good bit of characterisation that they’re both united in being glad she’s back while struggling with how to show it and secretly terrified she’s not going to stay. 

But I don’t think it’s possible to watch the big argument just before the zombies break in and think that Buffy herself is the only one who is in the wrong here and that she’s the one who needs to apologize, or that Willow is the one “being a grown-up” and  demonstrating “moral superiority”. And yet that seems to be exactly the position that the final scene of the episode tells us we’re meant to accept: Buffy did something wrong, we’re told, and Willow is within her rights as the wronged party to tease her about it a bit, so Buffy has to sit there and “take her lumps”.

Even though I don’t believe this was the case, it almost feels like these two scenes were written by two different people: that the big argument in the party was written by one person, perhaps assuming that it was going to turn out that Buffy’s friends were being influenced by the mysterious evil mask and so didn’t really have to stay completely in character for this scene, and that the closing scene was written by somebody who only heard the vaguest outline of what happened earlier in the episode but has been assured that Buffy needed to apologize about it.

Neither of the scenes really works in isolation, but taken together they are almost incoherent.  And as I said at the start, what’s infuriating is that this was so close to being a very good episode.  I think the problems with both these scenes are really easy to fix!  

This is the time Buffy should have brought up Xander’s Lie – instead of just standing there when Xander smugly tells her that “most girls don’t hop on a Greyhound over boy troubles”, have her point out that she had to kill her boyfriend, and that Xander (and, as far as Buffy knows, Willow too!) were cheering her on to do it the whole time.  As it is, the whole episode passes by without anyone talking about Angel’s fate at all, which is just really odd.  They don’t even ask if he’s alive! For all they know, he got his soul back and he’s going to show up at the party they’re planning!

And while you’re rewriting this scene, you should make the fight as a whole a little bit less one-sided! Maybe have Buffy say some things she should actually apologize for (beyond snapping at Cordelia a little bit).  Let her be mean!  We’ve seen this side of her before, after all.  Let her be angry!  And let the rest of the group argue amongst themselves a bit more, rather than just having everyone team up against Buffy (no, Cordelia’s attempt to put herself into Buffy’s shoes hardly counts).  Have Willow be horrified to learn that Xander didn’t pass on her message back in Becoming.  Have Xander be appalled to find out that Joyce told Buffy not to come back.  (Are we really meant to think that Xander, whose own family has already implied to be less than stellar if not explicitly abusive, would just be okay with that?)  Make Cordelia’s defense of Buffy a little bit less hollow and insulting.  Give Oz something substantial to do!  (Spoiler warning: the writers will never give Oz anything substantial to do.)  Have Buffy’s return cause long-standing tension in the group to boil over more generally, rather than just having everyone treat Buffy awfully in her own home and then be indignant that she’s not thrilled to be back.

And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with Buffy apologizing for not being around for Willow over the summer at the end of the episode.  I think she pretty much has to, actually.  And I do think that Willow’s “I didn’t have anyone to talk to [..] and you were my best friend” moment is well done, although again it’s slightly incongruous that Willow thinks her own “serious dating” problems are as important as the fact that Buffy had to send her boyfriend to hell.  But the stuff about Willow enjoying being a grown-up and reveling in her “moral superiority?”?  Nothing we see in the episode supports this at all!  Willow was being at least as childish as Buffy.  Cut that line out and just have Willow apologize too!  Let her acknowledge that standing Buffy up earlier wasn’t great, and that the surprise hootenanny might not have been a good idea!  Have her commiserate with her friend about losing Angel, maybe even have her apologize for the fact her spell didn’t work (because you probably want to set up the reveal next episode that it did).  Then, if you want to, you can go into the trading mock-insults bit (although, honestly, some of them … don’t seem to make any sense?  Why is Buffy calling Willow a tramp, exactly? How does that follow from the previous conversation at all?)

Couple more thoughts:

As much as I don’t think the big argument scene itself works, I love the fact that kids start slipping out of the door as soon as Buffy tells her mother that “you found out who I really was and you couldn’t deal.”  I hope at least some of them survived the zombies waiting right outside.

Early in the episode, Joyce calls Buffy “a superhero” then nervously asks “is that the right term?  It’s not offensive, is it?”  Back in Becoming, she questioned if Buffy had “tried not being a slayer” and wondered if the problem was that Buffy “didn’t have a strong father figure”.  Next episode she will assure Buffy that she’s tried to march in “the Slayer Pride Parade”.  It’s good to know that, as per the creator of the show, all these various lines mean nothing and have no significance or deeper subtext.

Notwithstanding what I’ve said in the past about the increasingly predictable fates of middle-aged women on this show and despite the fact I really like the idea of Joyce having any friends, Pat is genuinely a horrible person and it’s really hard not to be glad that she dies.  Personally, I think Buffy should’ve gotten to hit her with a shovel even before the whole demonic possession thing happened.

I liked the zombie cat.

[sanjisluvbot]

JOSUKE X BLACK FEM READER

Y/N’s first day in Morioh

Pt 2 pt 3

Masterlist

Spring was just beginning and you were a new semester in a foreign country. The nerves barley let you sleep before you could hear the birds chirping and your mother yelling for you to get breakfast. You felt like a zombie as you trudged down the hall following the smell of bacon and eggs. Your mother was giddy and moving around the kitchen as if she were in some type of Tv show.

“ Goodmorning sweetheart!” She happy chimed as she put two more pieces of bacon in the pan to fry.

A deep sigh escaped your lips as she turned up the radio, why is this woman this happy to ruin my life. Everything was beyond perfect in New York. Your entire life was in New York, you had big plans, and everything was ruined all because your father got a promotion and your mother was more than happy to just up and leave America to explore a new part of the world.

College, cheer leading, the school news paper, ballet class, your friends… everything was ripped from you and you had to restart in a country that you knew little to nothing of. Coming to a small town where everyone knew each other compared to being in New York was terrifying. Not to mention you were so different than literally everyone else it was like you were being punished.

You had to spend the rest of your sophomore year learning a new language while trying to balance your life and grades. You had to pack up every little memory from your childhood home… to move to Morioh. You resented your parents, how could they do this to you with little to no care.

Now it was as if you were restarting highschool altogether because you were a first year in this country. You had to relearn every little thing while your parents pranced around like they were Disney characters. For reference, think of them as that one episode of family guy where Stewie and Brian got stuck in a world animated by Disney.

You were almost done eating breakfast when you saw your father, he was dressed in a fine suit and he sat down gingerly when your mother placed his food on the table. They both must be on something because this can’t be real life in all honesty.

“ Honey, do you want me to drive you to school?” He questioned.

“ No, I don’t need any more attention than I will get for the rest of my time here. Speaking of that how long are we going to be here”

“ Y/N, we know this is rough for you but please don’t start this on your first day of school”

Unbelievable, they’re mad that you don’t want to be here as if they didn’t make you just up and leave your life to come somewhere where you had to learn every custom and entire language all in a year. You didn’t feel like arguing anymore or else your pent up tears will drop before you even made it to your first class.

Today you were walking to school. At least you could be alone and familiarize yourself with the neighborhoods without being told an entire speech about how “ this was a good thing” and “ you should be grateful that this promotion was given to your father because you’ll only have the best of the best.” Blah blah— the best was in New York and you are no longer in New York so what the hell was the point.

As you walked along the roads there were some constant stares from the variety of people going to work or to your school. Yup, you were an outcast. As you needed the school you noticed a two very tall guys, one had your uniform the other was wearing a white suit. You being nosy you tried your best to get near them since a few girls and another boy with your uniform surround them when suddenly the boy from your school was punched in his jaw.

The girls screamed and you let out a gasp, you made eye contact with the man who was basically a giant even though he wasn’t near you. The boy fell to the ground colliding into your legs making you fall as well.

Shit.

The man reached for the boy almost completely ignoring you and you had to count back from ten in order to not blow up on the gigantic idiot. You picked your bag from beside you and started walking off before an arm grasped your shoulder.

“ Hey get off-”

“ You’re new right? I’m sorry for bumping into you can I walk you to the nurse.”

You turned back to look at the boy. He had the prettiest blue eyes, full lips, my he was just handsome. But he was a little shit and you didn’t want to be anymore involved with this idiotic dispute than you already were.

“ I’m alright, I should be going school is starting soon. Have a good day” You remarked trying to be as polite as you could while your patience ran thinner by the minute.

You picked up your speed as he called out to you, he wanted desperately to make up for what happened but this wasn’t going to be how you started your first miserable day in this town.

When you got to your home room you had to introduce yourself and it was so embarrassing they looked upon you like you were some alien. Which you were, they probably never seen someone with your complexion outside of tv.

Everyone was polite and it wasn’t the worst thing in the world but no matter what you did everyone was fascinated like never before. Just as your homeroom ended the door opened up, you looked up out of curiosity and to your dismay you made eye contact with the boy from earlier.

A/N: This was originally going to just be a one shot but I can spread this into a few parts of maybe even make it into a series. I think it would be fun to see the adventures Y/N will go on with Josuke & Jotaro right ! I promise to make it worth your while ! 😘

Tags for this will begin in next part let me know if you’re interested !!

[mariusperkins]

my favourite new-to-me movies of 2023

a few years ago my resolution was to stop just only rewatching Ocean's Eleven over and over and actually watch some of the thousand-ish movies that I say I'm going to watch and then don't, which, honestly, has been Very fun and something I highly recommend! It also means that I watch a lot of movies that aren't actually "new" (which, honestly, I also recommend).

Picking a top 20 was really hard this year (I would do top 10 but that was impossible), I watched so many movies I absolutely LOVED, and so I narrowed them down to the below using the only criteria that I think really matters when it comes to lists like this which is 1. How insane did I feel about the movie at the time, and 2. Do I still feel insane about it when I think about it now.

This list got long so to save your dash I have put it under the cut:

20. Fire of Love (2022): a documentary about the lives of two volcanologists who ultimately died together in a volcanic eruption. It's told in such a beautiful, moving way, and I've been telling everyone I know to watch it, so of course it had to make this list

19. Lady For a Day (1933): a group of loosely-socially-connected people work together to convince a wealthy man that an old impoverished apple seller is a member of high society so her daughter (who also believes her slightly-estranged mother is high society) can marry into real high society. It was literally the first movie I watched in 2023 and I truly can't think of a better way to start off a year than with a movie that is about helping other people for the sake of Just Helping Them, because we should care about other people, because what else are we on this earth for if not to help and care about other people. Also, this is one of those 1930s movies that seems wildly progressive in it's treatment of women (nobody shames Annie for having a daughter out of wedlock or anything that goes along with that, everyone wants her to be happy, and healthy, and to help her get the thing that she wants above all else: for her daughter to be happy and safe).

18. The Talk of The Town (1942): one of the many "Cary Grant's most bisexual movies" but boy howdy is it!! Cary Grant, a communist sympathiser and unionist, has to hide out at Jean Arthur's farmhouse to escape the law after being accused of a crime he didn't commit but wouldn't you know it, Jean Arthur's just rented out her farmhouse to Ronald Coleman, a judge who prides himself on his neutrality who's about to be nominated to the supreme court! Jean Arthur, thinking fast, says Cary Grant is her gardener for the farmhouse and also sets about trying to prove to Ronald Coleman that Cary Grant is innocent, Cary Grant sets about trying to radicalise Ronald Coleman before he can get to the supreme court. Ronald Coleman spends a significant amount of time playing chess with Cary Grant while the two of them speak softly to each other. Just wonderful stuff, and Jean Arthur is so beautiful that I genuinely tried to find out what her skincare regime was.

17. Beyond The Infinite Two Minutes (2020): a short (just over an hour) Japanese scifi film where a man discovers that the tv in the cafe downstairs from him and the tv in his apartment are connected, with the tv in the cafe showing two minutes into the future (of whatever is in front of the tv in his apartment). It does some really fun stuff with this time-travel adjacent concept, especially in the final "fight" sequence! It's a little hard to find (I think I might have watched it on vimeo?), but absolutely worth it.

16. White Zombie (1932): sometimes called the "first zombie movie", it's so different from what we now think of as a "zombie movie" that it feels fresh (or, at least, it did to me). A young bride is "killed" by an evil count and brought back as a zombie forced to obey his will. I found the short scene towards the end of the movie where her husband and True Love almost breaks the hold on her mind and there's a close up of her expression as it changes from wide-eyed blankness to almost a smile before she slips back under Bela Lugosi's spell to be genuinely affecting. Also, there's a scene right at the start where Bela Lugosi's eyes are superimposed over a scene that I found genuinely frightening, I was as jumpscared by those eyes as a person watching in 1932 probably was, which is always a fun feeling.

15. A New Leaf (1971): Walter Matthau, an aging, asexual bachelor is informed that he is on the brink of complete poverty and decides to find a orphaned heiress to marry (and then murder) to keep himself in his preferred lifestyle. After several unsuccessful endeavors he meets Elaine May (who also wrote and directed the movie), a weathly and extremely absent-minded botanist. Instead of killing her, he trips his way through improving both her life and himself. I was enthralled by this movie, I just want to rotate every part of it in my mind forever.

14. It's a Wonderful Knife (2023): the most recent of all the movies on this list in terms of both release date and me having watched it, this slasher retelling of 'it's a wonderful life' has it all: a Scary Slasher opening featuring a killer with a gimmick ("The Angel"), the classic bit where she wishes she'd never been born and stumbles through realising Oh No I'm In The Universe Where I've Never Been Born, the universe saving True Love of lesbians, Justin Long being a little weirdo, the bit where she runs down the street wishing everyone and everything a merry christmas. All the in-text callouts by the characters that what's happening is "just like" it's a wonderful life snowballed into a (to me) touching romantic moment ("you were my Clarence"). It all just Worked!! The perfect holiday watch.

13. Bones (2001): I love a horror movie that I've never heard of and the early 2000s is a great time period for this. 1970s Snoop Dogg (with beautiful 1970s hair!) is murdered, and his ghost comes back to get revenge on those who killed him. Features some great gross-out horror scares (the nightclub scene, especially, made me jump out of my seat and pace around). Also, a very cool, scary-looking poster!

12. Eyes Without A Face (1960): A doctor attempts to use his plastic surgery skills to "replace" his daughter's face, which has been mangled in a car accident (that he caused). I hope whoever designed the mask the daughter wears, which is a plain white 'death mask' style with only the eyes cut out, got some kind of award because it's visually striking in every scene (especially when combined with her mod/60s coat). This movie is full of the gestures towards a broader life that his daughter would have had, or the life she did have that is just enough to both paint a vivid picture and make you feel so curious that the movie would be enthralling even without the serial murder/body horror aspect. Has one of the greatest "good for HER" endings to a movie I've ever seen, which I would implore you not to spoil for yourself if you want to watch this. The version up on internet archive does have english subtitles (thank you internet archive!!).

11. Grosse Point Blank (1997): A disconnected and disaffected hit man attends his high school reunion, confronting his past (the mother that barely recognises him, the girlfriend he abandoned on prom night, the friend that never heard from him after he left town) and his present (the other hit men attempting to kill him). I feel cringe somehow for putting this on my list, I feel cringe admitting that I did feel a big Swell of emotion as John Cusack makes eye contact with a baby as the lyrics to Queen/Bowie's 'Under Pressure' swells in the background (why don't we give ourselves one more chance), I even feel a little cringe for liking something that seems like it should only appeal to Gen X's. But what is this list for if not for films that game me cringe levels of emotions?

10. Waxworks (1988): Much like the early 2000s, the 1980s are also a great decade for 'horror movies you've never heard of'. The plot summary doesn't do much to give it away: 'a group of teens go to a wax museum and get killed off one by one'. "Well, that's just house of wax", you think to yourself, "I know what to expect from this movie". It isn't, and you don't. Please don't look up scenes ahead of time, please do watch this movie!

9. Knightriders (1981): I'm a very loud member of the Movies Should Be Shorter club but this movie is over two hours and I wish it had gone on forever. Every time you think 'well that's the end of the movie' another movie arc starts, and I couldn't have been happier. It follows the "knights" (motorbike stuntmen) in an 80s renaissance fair as they travel from town to town, argue about modernising, and put on shows. Feels like you're really vibing with them under the 1980s sun. Also features a cameo of Stephen King, who eats a sandwich in a truly disgusting way.

8. House (1977): a group of teen girls go to the house of one of the girl's aunts. It's a very haunted house. The best way I can think to describe it is that it's like watching the description of a nightmare you had as a child, almost too over the top and ridiculous to be scary in an explainable way but it is still scary. I'll think about the piano sequence until the day I die.

7. They Might Be Giants (1971): A man who, after the death of his wife and his subsequent mental breakdown, believe himself to be Sherlock Holmes. His brother, who's attempting to get him committed to collect his inheritance, introduces him to a woman named Dr Watson. They run around around town as the man who believes himself to be Sherlock Holmes attempts to solve the mystery that he believes Moriarty is orchestrating, solving real problems for various people around town almost by accident. A extremely hopeful and upbeat movie with the saddest last 60 seconds to a movie I've ever seen, a very, very bittersweet love story.

6. The Palm Beach Story (1942): Claudette Colbert is deeply in love with her big rectangle of a husband Joel McCrea, but wants to divorce him because she believes that providing for her is holding him back (and he won't let her accept money from random men who want to give her money for being beautiful - a realistic thing to happen if you are Claudette Colbert imo). He's desperate to stay married to her so when she runs off to Palm Beach for a quickie 1940s divorce he follows her, but on the way she meets mega rich Rudy Vallee who falls instantly in love with her. As a complete 180 to the previous movie, this is a fun movie with the most rediculous final 60 seconds. I truly believe that your enjoyment of the movie hinges on those final moments - I, of course, loved it.

5. The Abominable Dr Phibes (1971): the king of horror Vincent Price stars as the mysterious Dr Phibes, who's out to kill a very specific set of people in various very specific ways, assisted by his beautiful and incredibly dressed assistant Vulnavia while the police unsuccessfully try to figure out what he's doing and stop him. I truly loved this movie, the mystery just silly enough, the kills just over the top enough, the elaborate sets not really trying to not look like sets and better off for it!! The sequel, in which Dr Phibes and Vulnavia travel to Egypt to resurrect Dr Phibes' wife, is also quite good!

4. Brief Encounters (1945): A man and woman, both happily (or at least contentedly) married to other people, meet and fall into a whirlwind-style love before the real world crashes back into them. Soul-obliteratingly sad, but in the way that love can be, sometimes.

3. Shocker (1989): A college student starts having visions of a serial murderer in which the murderer can see him, helps to catch the murderer... And then the movie really starts. This was going to be lower down until I realised that it's become such a reference point for me since I watched it. I wish Wes Craven would make a sequel about the protagonist's girlfriend, who, by the end of the movie, is a ghost who shares his body.

2. Wild Thing (1987): Tarzan, but if Tarzan was in 1980s New York instead of the jungle. I had such a fun time with this movie! Excellent use of 'wild thing' (the song) needle drop, which happens in conjunction with a Spiderman-style man-on-the-street interview section. To me, this one is an undiscovered gem.

1. Tampopo (1985): a woman, who isn't good at making ramen but owns a ramen shop, asks a truck driver and his friend to help her improve her cooking. He agrees, and they begin a winding journey, encountering and befriending various people to help her along the way. Tampopo is also a movie that's interested in exploring the different relationships people can have to food and the different roles it plays in society, so it's full of little tiny scenes staring all kinds of wonderful weirdos like this scene, which is one of my favourite scenes in all of cinema, of a little old woman causing chaos in a small supermarket late at night. Also, if you watch this movie: get ramen first, because otherwise you'll have to pause the movie to go and get food.

Honourable Mentions: You've Heard Of This Edition

Best movie about The Movies: Asteroid City (2023)

Best action scene that made me claw at the person next to me: Mission Impossible (Dead Reckoning Part One (2023)

Award for 'movie famous for being good that is good': RoboCop (1987)

Award for 'movie referenced as a punchline that actually has Things To Say about the treatment of houseless people to the point that I now feel like those punchlines do the movie and incredible disservice': C.H.U.D (1984)

Best rediculous stunts/scene chewing from Jake Gyllenhaal: Ambulance (2022)

Best 4th movie in a film series that was still incredible and also made me cry: John Wick Chapter 4 (2023)

Award for special effects/goo (for when you see the clones sloughing out of the pods): Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956)

Best use of Bill Pullman as a romantic lead: While You Were Sleeping (1995)

Award for 'predator movie that is actually enjoyable to watch': Prey (2022)

Best use of cocaine as a plot device: Cocaine Bear (2023)

Honourable Mentions: Maybe You Haven't Heard Of This Edition

Best movie that is just really a series of weird little sketches: Better Off Dead (1985)

Best movie about a married couple that are horny for each other: Undercover Blues (1993)

Best use of Willem Dafoe as an ally to the protagonist: Daybreakers (2009)

Best use of a one location (and primarily one set): Welcome Back Mr McDonald (1997)

Best use of the little lock of hair that falls out of the gelled-back hairdo in a 1930s male lead: Love Is News (1937)

Best use of enemies-to-lovers: Legal Eagles (1986)

Best use of Bob Hope: Nothing but the Truth (1941)

Award for 'most people cheating on each other with everyone else' in a single movie: Dinner at Eight (1933)

Best movie involving a woman who died and then possesses another woman to get revenge on the man who killed her: Supernatural (1933)

Best use of weird masks and scary basements: Popcorn (1991)

Award for 'most 1980s tropes in a 1930s movie': The Old Dark House (1932)

Best underutilised setting for a horror movie: Intruder (1989)

Best movie that you truly can't believe got made and released: Roar (1981)

Best performance of an actor pretending to be a robot: Deadly Friend (1986)

Best 1930s 'extremely wealthy old man and poor fast talking woman best friendship' in a movie: Easy Living (1937)

Best early 2000s thriller you haven't heard of/best Emily Blunt performance: Wind Chill (2007)

Best use of 1940s tropes and jokes in a hallmark movie: A Biltmore Christmas (2023)

Best use of best friends in a noir movie: The Gun for Hire (1942)

Best netflix movie that netflix inexplicably didn't bother promoting: They Cloned Tyrone (2023)

Best Dylan O'Brien performance: The Outfit (2022)

Best slimy little weasel performance: Cure For Wellness (2016)

Best use of time travel to a Very specific but not well-known historical event: Timeline (2003)

Award for most specific accident in a horror movie that required a transplant: Mad Love (1935)