#key word here is amateur | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

junkissed · 10 months ago

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amateur hour

member — camboy!jun x f reader genre — smut, f2l, idiots to lovers, fluffy ending word count — 8.6k synopsis — the most awkward encounter of your life might just end up being the best thing you and your best friend have ever done together. warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, masturbation (jun), voyeurism & exhibitionism (watching porn together), jun is a big time simp but in a soft way, please lmk if i missed any! notes — huge thanks to @onlymingyus and @highvern for reading this for me to make sure i wasn't insane, and thanks to @cheolism and @duhnova for help with the title <3 this is my longest fic in a while and it took so much energy to finish but i hope yall enjoy! please reblog or send an ask and lmk if you enjoyed this! :)

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"hello? anybody home?"

jun squeezes his eyes shut, throwing his head back with a stifled moan as he cums all over his hand. his grip on his cock tightens, milking every last drop out across his abs as he fights to keep himself quiet.

fuck, he forgot. forgot he'd told you to come over tonight. forgot he'd promised a movie night to cheer you up after your latest dating disaster. he feels like the worst friend on the planet right now, for so many reasons.

the main reason? the fact that he's just finished cumming at the thought of you… and also the fact that he's been streaming the whole thing to thousands of people.

out of breath, he presses a couple keys before slamming his laptop shut. no goodbye to his viewers, no thanking the people who donated. but they're used to his unconventional streams, often barely acknowledging their existence or even not talking at all. not because he cares deeply about staying anonymous, but because he's just so… average.

maybe that's why he's so popular: he's just a regular guy jerking off. people like that amateur stuff. no elaborate productions, no fancy camera work, just a guy with a laptop and a really pretty cock (or so he's been told). he could be anyone: your classmate, your neighbor, the cute guy from the library. he might even be your best friend.

"in here— changing!" he calls through his closed door, rushing as fast as he can to clean himself up and put clothes on. he's mentally praising himself for remembering to make his bed this morning, and after wiping a suspicious looking stain off his desk and fixing his chair, his room looks halfway decent.

he tosses open his bedroom door to greet you, throwing a smile onto his face. he doesn't want you to feel like you're intruding—he loves it when you come over, he wouldn't have given you his house key if he didn't want you to—even though at this exact moment, you very much are intruding. even though he invited you over in the first place. fuck, he's such an idiot.

when jun hadn't answered any of your texts before you let yourself in his apartment, you'd figured he'd forgotten about tonight. you'd hoped tonight would be an exception, but it's not out of the ordinary for him to be forgetful. any other day you wouldn't have minded, even teased him about it, but not tonight. especially since he invited you over in the first place.

but all of your worries are suddenly pushed to the backseat when he comes out of his room looking… well, hot.

like, literally hot. he's sweating, his hair disheveled and his pupils huge as he pushes his shirt sleeves up his arms.

it takes a second for you to take it all in— obviously he'd forgotten about his promise and had started a workout instead. you can't say you haven't noticed lately how often he's started working out, his biceps bulking up and his chest peeking out through his shirts. you'd wondered when he's been finding the time to go to the gym, his excuse for years being that he's too busy or too lazy to leave the house, but it seems like he's been working out at home too now.

you stand awkwardly in the space between his living room and the door, watching the beads of sweat forming at his hairline. “if now's a bad time, i can— leave…”

"no!" he rushes to say, and you pause at his sudden outburst. "no. just... let me take a shower real quick. i'm so sorry, i lost track of time." he runs his hand through his hair, trying to calm himself down while you try not to stare.

"sure," you say after a long moment. his eyes pause to travel over your face with an expression you can't read, but maybe you just imagined that because seconds later he's back to his cheery, usual self telling you to make yourself cozy on his bed and start looking for a movie while he's in the shower.

standing under the cold water, he promises to himself that he's going to get everything right tonight, despite the rocky start. he's gonna bring out the snacks and put on the movie and make you happy again. because that's what he always does, and he may not be the most perfect person in the world but he tries to be for you.

he's been there for every new boyfriend you tell him about that he already knows won't end well, and he's been there when it inevitably doesn't end well. he's been there without a single complaint for every drunk saturday night and every hungover sunday morning. and he's not going to complain this time either, no matter his feelings for you and how badly he wishes you would just date him instead. maybe he's a little biased, but he thinks he'd make a great boyfriend.

you sit at the edge of his bed wringing your hands until you hear the shower start to run, finally letting out a deep exhale and starting to relax with a moment to yourself.

he’ll take his shower, and it’ll be like a reset button for the evening; he’ll come out nice and clean like nothing ever happened, and you’ll snuggle up and watch a funny movie and maybe get a little drunk and forget all your troubles for the weekend. a clean slate, as if you hadn’t had to use every ounce of self control you’ve got in order to avoid ogling him and the way his sweat drenched shirt clung to his torso.

you’ll have such a fantastic time with the movie, you won’t even have time to stop and think about the fact that he probably works out shirtless. no, you definitely aren’t thinking about how you’ve never seen any gym equipment around his house so he must be doing like a crazy amount of pushups or something to get that ripped without any kind of exercise machine. the fact that these are not the kind of thoughts you should be thinking about your best friend is entirely irrelevant.

content with your plan to avoid thinking for the rest of the evening, you stand up from his bed and move to stand at his desk, opening his laptop to find something to watch.

and oh, you find something to watch, alright.

staring back at you on his screen is a porn site, paused on a video of a man laid naked across a worn out looking chair, legs spread wide with his cock tightly in his fist.

oddly enough, your first thought is that the scene looks… hot. the top of the video cuts off at the neck, hiding his face from the camera but leaving his prominent adam's apple exposed. it’s very obviously amateur, but even from just the single frame shown, you get the sense that there’s a certain charm to it. and quite honestly, it’s working for you.

apparently, it works for a lot of other people, too. the video has hundreds of thousands of views, and below it are suggested videos from the same man that boast similar numbers.

jun never struck you as the type of guy to watch solo male videos, but you aren't here to judge his preferences. hell, you've seen way worse yourself. there must be something he likes about it, though, and you’re half tempted to press play on the video to find out if the rest of it is as good as the preview seems to be.

you're about to close the tab and never speak of it again, but something else catches your eye and you pause, finger hovering over the mousepad. something about the guy in the video feels… familiar, somehow.

looking closer you see there's a little mole on his tummy, right by his hip, that reminds you of the one jun has. you've seen him without his shirt on enough times to recognize it—not like you've been staring or anything. just something you've noticed.

but then your stomach flips, and you realize what's actually familiar about the guy in the video. tied around his wrist is a thin red string, a friendship bracelet you made when you first met him and accidentally tied it too tight so he couldn't take it off that he's worn ever since.

there's no way that's a coincidence.

and then everything else starts to fall into place: the posters in the background of the video. the old desk chair you’ve sat in so many times that you’ll never be able to see the same way again. too many pieces fitting easily together like a puzzle.

but by the time you've had long enough to process all this information, the shower has stopped and out walks jun wearing nothing but a loose pair of sweatpants. your eyes drag away from the sight of his wet, naked chest and instantly fix on the bracelet tied around his wrist, unable to stop staring at it.

you distantly hear him call your name, and your gaze snaps back up at him with wide, guilty eyes, caught like a deer in headlights.

he opens a drawer and starts tugging a t-shirt on over his head, turning around to look at you. “did you find something to watc— oh.”

you follow his gaze towards his open laptop, the video sitting proudly on display in the tab you forgot to close.

you both stare at the paused video for a very long moment, the silence stretching on before all the words that were stuck in your throat suddenly come tumbling out all at once.

“i wasn’t— it was just open… i didn’t—”

he stands there in silence, and you stand there in silence, and the evidence sits on the desk between you like a wall that makes you feel intensely exposed, even though he’s the one who’s sitting naked on the open screen.

your first instinct (after panic, of course) is to slink home and hide yourself in your room and try to erase the image of your best friend’s dick from your memory. you’ve never thought they looked very attractive before, but his is weirdly beautiful to look at, and you’re not willing to explore that train of thought. also, way bigger than you were expecting, but it’s not like you thought about it often enough to guess how big he is or anything.

“maybe i should go home and we should just forget about tonight,” you rush to add when he still doesn’t say anything after a lengthy pause.

jun’s face falls, and you immediately feel a pang of guilt for trying to run. “you don't have to go,” he says quickly. “it’s not— um, nothing weird about it, right? i’m sorry, i should have closed it, or…” he pauses, stumbling over his words almost as badly as you are. “i don’t wanna make you uncomfortable. i promise my sheets—and everything in my room—is clean.” he tries an awkward smile, and it makes you feel really bad about making him feel bad.

“it's not weird at all. it's totally normal. i was just… surprised,” you try to smile back, but it doesn't work as well on you as it does on him. “just a shock, i guess. trying to process it. but it's fine. i promise.”

“i won't make it weird,” he says. “you don't have to watch it or anything.” he kind of wants you to.

“i wasn't thinking about it.” you definitely were.

there's another uncomfortably long silence. “so anyway, did you pick out a movie?” he asks at the same time you ask him a question, both trying to keep the conversation going, but you realize you should've kept your mouth shut and let him take the lead because he is way more capable of being normal about this than you are.

“what do you think about when you do it?” you blurt out, and you regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth because you've realized just how invasive of a question that is and you're kind of hoping he didn't hear you, but he definitely did because he's sitting at the edge of his bed with a shocked look on his face, because out of all the things he was expecting you to say it definitely wasn't that.

“don't answer that. i don't know why i said that,” you follow up immediately, trying to mitigate the damage but it's too late.

his eyebrows are scrunched up in thought. “no, i don't care. i—um… i just don't know how to answer that without making it weird.”

“you don't have to,” you say quickly.

he turns to you, but you pointedly look away. “do you actually want to know?”

you look down at your hands, doing everything to avoid his eyes. “kinda.” yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.

he laughs a little, and miraculously somehow it manages to lighten the tension, hearing that familiar sound. “you seem, like, really uncomfortable. we can just… pretend it never happened.”

“it's gonna be hard to do that. it's not every day you find out your best friend is a porn star,” you say finally. you force yourself to lift your head, at least in his general direction since you can't meet his eyes. you settle on looking at his mouth instead, but that was definitely a mistake because now you're staring at his lips and noticing for the first time how pretty they are and how soft they look and now you're wondering what it would feel like to kiss those lips and to—

“it's not really like being a porn star… well, kind of, it is. but like, not really, because—” he cuts himself off when he notices you staring. “sorry, i'll drop it. we don’t have to get into it.”

“no, i'm curious now,” you say. somehow you find the will to lift your head, finally meeting his eyes. “tell me how you do it.”

he stares blankly. “like how i jerk off, or… oh, you meant how the videos work,” he laughs as it clicks into place in his mind. obviously you wouldn't mean it like that—as much as he wishes you did.

you didn’t realize it until now but the uncomfortable, awkward tension at the initial shock of finding out that your best friend has a mildly successful porn career, has slowly been melting away into a different kind of tension. maybe it’s the adrenaline, the fight or flight instinct, or something else entirely, but it’s succeeded in making you bolder than you should be. everything in you should be telling you no, drop it, don’t invade his privacy, but all you can think is yes, please, tell me everything.

“is that what you were doing earlier? when i got here?”

he tilts his head imperceptibly at your question, eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he tries to gauge your reactions. there’s something in the air and it’s beginning to affect him too. “i feel like you’ve already guessed the answer to that.”

you can’t help the smirk that tugs at the corner of your lips at his words, gaining confidence with each passing second. “i told you, i’m curious.”

“fine.” he cocks an eyebrow at you. “yeah, i was. what else do you wanna know?”

“you never answered my question earlier.”

“what do i think about?” he repeats, tactfully ignoring the blush creeping up his neck into his cheeks. “trade secret. i can’t tell you.”

clearly you aren’t satisfied with his answer, so he sighs and looks over at you. strands of wet hair from his shower rest across his forehead, and you can’t help but be reminded of how he looked when you’d first walked in, sweaty bangs sticking to his face in a similar fashion.

“it’s not any different than when i do it off camera. same thoughts.” his eyes trail down your body briefly before snapping back up to your face. “most of the time i don’t even remember i’m being filmed. just feels like a normal afternoon to me.”

when he meets your eyes again they almost seem to sparkle with a mischievousness he hasn’t seen from you in a long, long time. “so this is a normal afternoon for you, then? letting people watch you jerk off?” the words are more vulgar than he’s ever heard from you, but they taste good and satisfying on your tongue.

if even a quarter of jun’s brain was functioning normally right now, he might have the good sense to refuse to answer your questions. his side job was never supposed to be found out by friends or family, not because he’s embarrassed about what he does, but because he likes having that space to experiment with himself. it’s true he can try out fetishes and kinks he would’ve never known about before, yes, but more important to him is the fact that he can do whatever he wants, be whoever he wants to be, act however he wants to act.

yet he instantly buckles the second you smile and bat your pretty eyelashes at him without so much as a second thought. for as long as he’s known you he’s always had the urge to tell you everything, to talk for hours and hours about anything on his mind. he’s never felt like he needs to hide anything from you; even with this, his darkest secret, he’s an open book. willing and far too eager to answer anything you ask him.

a small, distant part of him has sort of always wanted you to find out about his alter ego, to question him exactly as you’re doing now. the thought of his secret becoming your secret, too.

“i guess so, yeah.” he grins and glances over at his laptop still sitting open, the image of himself paused on the screen.

you follow his eyes, looking back and forth between him and the video and trying not to find the similarities between the two. “you ever do anything… together? or just solo?”

only after you’ve said it do you realize how that question sounded coming out, and yet again you wish you could take back your words. it wasn’t meant to be an offer—though deep down you really wouldn’t mind that at all—but despite the numerous boundaries you’ve already overstepped tonight, you don’t think that’s a line you’re willing to cross just yet.

being aware of your best friend’s homemade porn and even watching it is one thing, but actually fucking him is completely different. and no matter how bad your feelings are for him, it still feels off limits. unless he suddenly decides to grab you by the neck and tell you he wants you to ride him until your legs give out (which you’d gladly do, for the record), you’re just going to have to keep those desires to yourself.

the implications of your question hang unanswered in the air, and you stumble to explain yourself before he has the chance to outright reject you. “that's not what i mean—not like that. i wasn’t… nevermind.” you cut yourself off, hoping you haven’t managed to dig yourself a deeper hole.

the corner of his mouth upturns in a smile that you find infuriatingly hot. “you weren’t what? and no, i haven’t. never had anybody i liked enough to try it with.” he gets shy again, glancing away from you and staring at his desk chair absently. “i haven’t told anyone about it, so it’s not like i have many options even if i wanted to.”

your cheeks flush in embarrassment, and that guilty feeling in the pit of your stomach from seeing something you shouldn’t have returns. you’re the only person who knows? and you only saw it on accident, so clearly he didn’t mean for anyone to ever find out. fuck, all of this was a mistake and maybe you really should pretend like nothing ever happened.

“i’m sure the people who watch you would be lining up at your door to fuck you if you asked.”

“not interested.” he doesn’t meet your eyes, his gaze lingering on your body again for a moment too long, and for some reason that sparks something within you.

you clear your throat and it grabs his attention, looking up at you in curiosity. “well, anyway. i’ve thought of something for us to watch.”

he perks up a little, and you almost feel bad for what you’re about to do because he seems so excited at the prospect of watching an actual movie. but you’ve endured more than enough of your fair share of his teasing over the years, and part of you is still curious to finally see him in action, so you grab his laptop and sit yourself down on his bed.

he walks closer to you to see what you’ve picked out for the evening, only to find you’ve put his own video on fullscreen, nonchalantly propping his computer up on your lap to watch as if his dick isn’t sitting in front of your very eyes in 4k high definition.

his cheeks turn even redder than they already were as he freezes in place, his eyes fixed on the image of his own cock in hand and toned body on display, waiting for you to press play.

“you coming?” you pat the bed next to you expectantly, smiling such an innocent little smile as if you’re unaware of what you’re doing, though both of you already know exactly what’s going to happen. and it’s driving him up the fucking wall.

he’s so flustered that he doesn’t even laugh at your pun, still standing at the foot of his bed and trying to summon every last shred of his dignity to stop himself from getting hard for the second time tonight. just the thought of you wanting to watch him, showing interest in the videos of him pleasuring himself has all the blood in his body rushing towards his cock, and he doesn’t know how much longer he’ll be able to keep pretending he’s fine with this.

“i’ve never watched them after filming them. i was there the first time… never felt like i needed to revisit it.” he doesn’t mention the real reason he doesn’t watch them is because he’s afraid to see what he looks like when he’s thinking about you— afraid to see how his body reacts in ways that it definitely shouldn’t be without your knowledge.

you bite your lip absentmindedly, looking up at him with an inviting expression. “first time for everything, right?” despite the confidence you’ve gained your voice still ends up coming out soft and shy, as if you’re afraid to admit how badly you want to see how this plays out.

jun’s face flushes as he tries to ignore the way his pants continue to grow tighter. “you wanna watch me? i mean— the video? together?” he’s honored… no, he’s more than honored. thousands of people watch his videos daily, yet the only one he cares about is sitting on his bed and smiling that pretty smile of yours at him.

he rests his palms on the edge of his bed frame, and you can’t help the way your eyes rake over his body in reaction. he’s tall and always has been, towering over you as long as you’ve known him, but he never seems to be aware of just how big he is. or maybe he is and just knows how to use it to his advantage. either way, you can’t hide the shiver running down your spine as he leans over the bed towards you.

he can feel his body tingling with anticipation as he takes a seat down anxiously beside you, your fingers hovering over the mousepad before you finally unpause the video. no going back now.

at first you think the sound isn’t working as you watch him adjust his position on the chair in silence, but when you hear the seat squeak you realize he’s just quiet. your palms are clammy as you keep your hands planted at your sides, waiting for the action to start. just the image of him naked is enough to send you into a spiral, but you force yourself to be patient, knowing there’s better things to come.

you try not to stare at him next to you, but it’s impossible with the way he keeps nonchalantly adjusting his sweats every few seconds. you can tell he’s trying not to let on how hard he is, but unfortunately for him you're way too hyper aware of yourself in this moment and nothing goes unnoticed.

your gaze stays glued to the screen as you watch the recording of jun leaning back in his chair, tentatively taking his cock into his hand with a soft sigh. you don’t notice that you’ve been holding your breath until he starts moving his hand up and down along his length, letting out a shaky sigh that matches the ones from his recording. your cheeks are burning but you can’t bring yourself to stop staring as he brushes his thumb across his leaking tip, smearing his precum around with his fingers.

the muscles in his thighs tense and he lets out a little whine, and it sends a shiver throughout your whole body. you can’t see his face on the video, but you’ve seen his expressions enough to get the picture, and it drives you wild. you need to see it close up, need to see those faces he makes and confirm the way you’ve imagined it.

but even with his beautiful, painfully hard cock right in front of you, you still can’t take your eyes off of the friendship bracelet tied around his wrist, watching as it brushes against his cock with every stroke of his fist. you wonder how long he’s been doing this, how long and you’d never realized. he’d never seemed like the type, but then again, you were learning a lot of things about your friend tonight.

you manage to pry your eyes away from the video but your gaze just ends up back on instead, sitting beside you with the same thin bracelet adorning his slender wrist. you squeeze your thighs together as you stare at it, willing yourself not to think about it, but when another broken and muffled moan comes out of the laptop speaker you can’t take it anymore.

you suddenly stop the video, pushing his computer off your lap and closing the screen. he jumps and looks at you, eyes wide with concern. you'd hated it, didn't you? you thought he was a loser and this was all such a bad idea and he should've pretended it never happened in the first place because now your friendship is ruined and—

"show me."

jun swears he stops breathing for a second. he must not have heard you clearly, but when he pulls his gaze up to meet yours he finds you staring back expectantly, a hint of a smile on your face and a look in your eyes that makes him want to pounce on you and never look back.

"what?" his voice comes out cracked. god, if you're saying what he thinks you are… he's never been this hard in his entire life, including all the times he's edged himself to the thought of you. there's no way in hell he isn't hallucinating right now, because the expression on your face is straight out of his dreams.

your wandering eyes flit down to his bulge. "i thought you said you did live shows."

your heart is pounding, fearing you've finally crossed that last forbidden line for good. who knows when you got so bold, but you couldn't handle watching another second of that video without doing something about it. despite his shyness you know he's enjoying this, with the way he keeps tugging at the hem of his shirt and struggling to hide his painfully obvious boner. it's not like you're doing any better yourself, and you wonder if he can feel the heat radiating off your body right now or if he's noticed the way you can't stop squirming.

you hadn't expected that hearing his breathy whimpers through the laptop's tinny speakers and watching his abs flex on the screen as he squeezes his hand around his cock would have such an effect on you, but it's hard not to when the star of the movie is sitting right beside you. you're afraid to even move, at risk of revealing the wet spot beneath you seeping into his sheets that he was so adamant earlier about being clean. well, you know one thing for sure— they won't be clean after tonight.

so, you clear your throat and choose your next words carefully this time, knowing exactly what you're asking for and hoping, praying it'll be reciprocated. "why would i wanna watch a video when i can see it in person?"

"fuck—" his voice is strained, and your stomach flips at the sudden low tone coming from his throat that you aren't used to hearing. "you want—”

"i wanna see you," you cut him off, jumping on the chance that he didn't immediately shut you down. you look pointedly at the bulge in his pants, making sure he sees you looking. "do you ever do private shows?" you feel the heat in your cheeks burning with shyness, but you press on, your voice soft. "you know… one on one?”

“no— yeah,” he says hurriedly. “i mean, i can now. for you. if you want.” he adds the last part like an afterthought, because even though you just straight out asked to watch him jerk off, he still can’t comprehend that you’re into this. that you, his best friend of all people, is this eager to see him.

your reply comes out choked with desperation, but he’s so lost in your reactions that you doubt he even notices the change in your tone. “please?”

with dazed eyes he nods, moving his hands down to the waistband of his pants, and it feels like time moves in slow motion as you strain your eyes for a glimpse.

your breath catches in your throat as you watch him push his sweatpants down just below his hips, freeing his cock. the thick veins on his hands that you're used to ogling in your free time are nothing compared to the veins that cover his length, and they’re nothing compared to the grainy video from his computer, either. you're so tempted to touch him, you have to physically restrain yourself from reaching over and wrapping your hand around him, to feel its weight in your palm and feel how hard he is.

he soaks up your reaction, his pride soaring at the way your mouth is practically watering for him. he makes sure you're watching, then pushes his sweatpants all the way off and leans back against the headboard of the bed, spreading his legs to get a more comfortable position before he starts.

“you gonna answer my question now?” you ask, your voice soft yet still teasing as he begins to drag his hand up and down his shaft slowly, pumping himself to full hardness as if he hadn't already been fully hard for the last hour.

the look in his eyes when he glances back up at you makes your heart jump, and suddenly the answer seems as clear as day. but you’re afraid to believe in it in case you’re still wrong about everything; even now as you kneel beside him on his bed, his eyes boring into yours as you watch him fist his cock, you can’t let yourself have hope that he feels the same about you. there’s been nothing to suggest that he does, besides the fact that he didn’t immediately throw you out of his house the second you found out about his alternative career.

he doesn’t answer for a long moment, and you feel your entire body growing hot under his gaze. for the second time tonight you feel stripped bare, despite the fact that you’re fully clothed and he’s the one half naked in front of you.

“are you sure you wanna hear the answer?” he says finally, and despite the way his voice comes out choked you can tell he’s just as nervous about this as you are. years of friendship changed by just one sentence, but whether it’ll be for better or for worse, you haven’t figured out yet.

you’re not sure if you really do, but you nod anyway, searching his eyes for any signs of hesitation. he groans softly, bucking his hips up a little into his fist as he opens his mouth to speak. you scoot closer to hear him, drawn to him like a magnet and your heart pounding as you wait for the words you so badly want to hear.

“right now?” he pauses. “i’m thinking about how bad i wanna kiss you.”

and after that it’s like a dam breaking apart, losing every bit of self control you’d worked so hard to maintain for so long as you press forward and meet his lips. his hands jump to your hips, instantly forgetting what he was doing as he gently tugs you onto his lap to get a better angle.

you slide your legs beneath you, straddling his lap with your knees on either side of his waist as your mouth slides against his. kissing him comes as naturally to you as breathing, almost immediately finding a rhythm with his nose pressed against your cheek.

he starts out slow, tentative, but as soon as you kiss him back he’s throwing his own self control to the wind and pulling you deeper into him. you can feel his aching cock pressing into your stomach, and it takes everything in you not to grind down on him and ease the throbbing between your legs.

you finally force yourself to pull away, taking in the sight of him. his cheeks are flushed and he’s panting, eyes darting back and forth between yours in questioning at your sudden pause. “is— is that all you think about?” you ask, but it comes out more like a whimper. if it were anyone else you’d be mortified at how worked up you’ve gotten in such a short time, but if anything jun looks worse than you do right now.

“i think about you every fucking time,” he admits breathlessly. as always, giving up his so-called trade secrets the second you ask, because he can’t hide anything. doesn’t want to hide anything from you. “can’t stop thinking about you, even when i try not to—”

“during your streams?”

“—especially during my streams.”

you push your hips down gently, feeling your soaked panties sticking uncomfortably to your folds at the movement, but it’s all worth it for the angelic moans that fall from his lips in return. “and earlier…?” you pry. you don’t know why you’re so full of questions tonight, but a part of you relishes in his praise and the way he so readily admits his thoughts to you.

he stifles another groan, his hands trailing haphazardly over your body like a kid in a candy store, as if he isn’t sure what to touch first but he does know that he wants to touch all of you. “earlier— got so hard thinking about you coming over, i couldn’t help it…” he squeezes his eyes shut as you reach up to rest your arms around his shoulders. “so fucking lucky that you’re my friend, i don’t deserve you.”

you brush your thumb against his cheek and his eyes shoot open, his hips stuttering beneath you in surprise. “why?” you ask softly. if anyone is undeserving of your friendship, it should be you, not him; the way he treats you like a queen, practically worshipping the ground you walk on and being the best friend you’ve ever had.

“‘cause—” he swallows hard and looks up at you, his fingers shaking a little as they wander across your hips. “fuck, the way i think about you… you’d never say yes to that.”

you smile softly, leaning closer to him until your mouths are just inches apart and you can feel his hot breath on your lips. “you never asked me.” you glance up at him expectantly, nodding your head to give him a chance to say what’s on his mind.

“can i—” he curses under his breath, his mind going haywire at even just the thought of you letting him have more of you. “can i kiss you again?”

and it’s such a genuine request that you have no choice but to indulge him, your lips parting to let him in. it’s a kiss that you feel in your entire body, from the hands that have moved to your back gently guiding you towards him, to the butterflies in your chest and much lower places. you want—no, you need all of him, all at once, need his hands and his cock and his sweet, sweet kisses.

you lean back and press your mouth against his neck instead, feeling his soft skin beneath your lips as you start to suck. he groans in response when you nip at the underside of his chin, beginning to suck harder until you bite down gently and lift your eyes to see his reaction.

suddenly he wraps his hand behind your neck and pulls your head up to meet him face to face, crashing his lips back against yours in a frantic battle of tongue and teeth, filled with a newfound desperation. his eyes are closed and brows furrowed as he kisses you, one hand on the back of your head guiding you into him.

you frantically paw at his shirt, struggling to keep yourself contained. "jun, please— let me see you."

he leans forward away from you and tears his shirt off over his head without so much as a word in reply, quickly settling back and meeting your lips once again. his mind is racing a mile a minute, so eager to give you whatever you want, whatever you ask for, whatever you need.

he's so caught up in pleasing you that the thought of asking you to take off your shirt in return doesn't even cross his mind; you could sit fully clothed on his lap for the rest of the night and he'd still be over the moon. but you do it anyway, just as eager to please him as he is for you. you pull your shirt off as fast as you can, whining in frustration when you tug too roughly and it gets caught in your hair for a half second. but you feel his hand slide up your back and help you, untangling it and balling the fabric in his fist, tossing it across the room before pulling you back to him.

you fall forward and catch yourself on the wall behind his head, forcing you to readjust your seat on his lap and cupping his cheeks with your hands to stabilize yourself. jun shifts his position as well, threading one arm around your waist and pulling you tighter against him. his palm on your skin makes you feel like you're on fire, his hand pressing gently but firmly against the bare skin of your hip.

you can feel his length resting between your bodies, still hard as ever and throbbing from so much stimulation yet so little of it being directed at where he wants it most. you start to rock your hips, slowly grinding against him and feeling your cunt pulse through the thin fabric of your panties, and you wonder if he can feel it, too.

if he does then he doesn’t mention it, too caught up in roaming his hands over your chest now that your shirt is out of the way. you feel shy, not used to so much attention from one person and especially not used to it coming from him. a part of you wishes you’d at least worn a prettier bra, but he doesn’t even seem to notice that it’s the old ratty one you wear around the house. in his eyes it might as well be made of solid gold, with the way he touches it so delicately and looks up at you in a frenzy, begging you to let him take it off.

his palms cup your breasts the second the fabric is on the floor, moaning unabashedly as he pushes his face into your chest. his tongue laves over your skin with his eyes closed in bliss, and he groans into your breast before he finally tears his mouth away from you, giving you both a second to breathe.

"please let me fuck you," he rasps, his arm still wrapped around your waist as he holds your body close to his. "fuck, please— god, i need you so bad. i'll take such good care of you, baby, please, just let me. i'll do whatever you want me to, please—"

you shiver at the desperation in his voice, and if he wasn't still cradling the back of your head in his palm you probably would've fallen backwards with a moan. even from the few minutes of his video that you'd managed to watch he didn't seem like much of a talker, so the way he rambles on and on begging for you feels like a breath of fresh air.

you waste no time in telling him yes, practically falling off his bed in your rush to stand up and strip the rest of your clothes off. he wraps his hand around his cock once more and begins to thrust shallowly into his fist as he watches you shimmy out of your pants, and you whimper at the sight that’s become so familiar over the past hour.

both finally naked, you start to reposition yourself on his lap, but in a split second he flips you over onto your back instead. you let out a yelp as he cages you in with his long limbs, his cock resting against your body as he hovers over you.

“please,” he pants, his expression pleading with you just as much as his words are. you don’t even know what he’s pleading for at this point but you nod quickly anyway, moaning out his name until he silences you with another hot kiss.

he sits back on his heels, kneeling between your legs as you spread them open wider for him. he forces himself to look away from your dripping pussy long enough to position himself at your entrance. there’s so much more he wants to do, so much he wants to try with you, but after dreaming about you for so long and now you’re finally here, he’s not sure he’ll last long enough to find out. another day, he tells himself as he lines up his cock. another time, if you’ll let him.

he looks up at you, waiting for you to give him a signal or to back out if you’ve changed your mind, but you meet his eyes and bite at your lip and give him the tiniest nod.

his hands are shaking as he guides himself into you, pushing just the tip inside and looking back up at you for confirmation before continuing.

by the time he’s halfway inside of you he has to squeeze his eyes shut as hard as he can, every muscle in his body concentrating on trying not to explode at the feeling of your walls fluttering around him. a million thoughts are running through his head and he can barely see straight at this point, his tunnel vision focused on you and only you. if he remembers only one thing from tonight, he wants it to be this sight right here: the image of your face scrunched up in pleasure, your mouth hanging open in a breathless moan as you clench wildly around his cock.

your hand grips his bicep impossibly tight as you adjust to his size, your fingers gradually relaxing as he continues to push into you until he bottoms out with a high pitched whine.

it takes a second for you to adjust, but as soon as you start begging him to move his body starts running on autopilot, his hips pistoning into you with more force than he knew he had in him. he’s stopped talking by now, almost completely silent except for the occasional groan and muttered curse.

you lift your legs to wrap them around his waist, pressing into his back with your heels to get him to thrust deeper until you fall apart in his arms with a cry, burying your face in his chest as your vision goes blank and the wind gets knocked out of your lungs.

he leans down over you, putting his hand between your head and the wall to stop you from being slammed into it from his thrusts as you crest into your orgasm. all you can do is hold on tightly to him, biting at his collarbone to stifle your noises as his eyes dart across your face, desperate to see how beautiful you look when you cum for him. for him, for only him, for your best friend who’s so in love with you it physically hurts.

what finally breaks him is the gentle way you reach up and hold his head with one hand, guiding him down to your lips to kiss you once more. your fingers tremble with aftershocks as you thread them into his hair, using his body to ground yourself as he fucks you into the mattress.

his hips stutter and he barely pulls out in time to cum all over your pussy, his cock twitching as he releases onto your skin with a broken moan. there’s nothing he wants more in this world than to cum inside you, but in his desperation he didn’t think to ask ahead of time, and even his last functioning brain cell isn’t going to let that happen without your permission.

your fingers untangle themselves from his hair, sliding to his neck and down to his chest as he heaves shallow breaths. he blinks rapidly, trying to reorient himself and calm his racing heart.

“jun?”

he barely hears you calling his name, but his head tilts down to look at you before he can process it. you’re just as much of a mess as he is, sweaty hair sticking to your forehead and his cum coating your lower half, your chest rising and falling as you struggle to catch your breath.

and just like that, the fog in his mind is cleared and he’s jumping into action. he’s gonna do what he always does, what he has to do: be there for you and do everything right, even when he has no idea what’s “right” anymore because he just fucked his best friend and the love of his life and that’s not usually what best friends do, so what does that make him now? he doesn’t know and he doesn’t care, but what he does care about is making sure you’re as comfortable as possible in this, probably the weirdest and most uncomfortable situation ever.

your fingers latch onto his wrist before he can get away, and he whips around with such a dumbfounded expression that you can’t help but laugh a little. “jun,” you repeat his name again, and this time it gets through to him and he pauses, eyes wide as he looks down at you.

“huh?”

“where are you going?”

“to…” he trails off, because he doesn’t actually know where he’s going, but his brain knows he has to do something. “uh, clean?”

you laugh. “god, i love you so much. just— c’mere.”

you tug on his wrist and he topples down onto you with a yelp, but you wrap your arms around him until he stops wiggling and just sits still against you.

your bodies are covered in sweat, sticking to each other as you hold him, but it’s the most comfortable you’ve felt in what must be years. “what are you so nervous for?” you ask him with a soft chuckle, pushing his hair out of his forehead.

“because…” he pauses again and looks up at you, worry clouding his gaze. “because you’re so perfect. and i don’t wanna mess this up.”

“you’re not going to, jun. promise.” you exhale and stroke his hair again. “if anything, i’m the one that messed things up. i shouldn’t have found out about your… you know.”

“can i say that i’m glad you did, or is that weird?” he asks with a breathy giggle.

your cheeks flush with heat, but you can’t disagree. “i’m glad too,” you admit, and the dopey grin on his face makes up for all the awkwardness ten times over.

you exhale slowly, finally feeling your body return to normal. you dread standing up—you’re not even sure if you’d be able to, after that—but for now it feels good to just lay here with jun’s head on your chest.

“so what about your channel?”

“i’ll delete it,” he rushes to say. “whatever you want me to do. i don’t care— i don’t want it anymore. all i want is you.”

you tuck a lock of hair behind his ear with a smile, feeling your cheeks glow from his praise. “well, i don’t want you to do that. all your loyal viewers will miss out on seeing you doing more than just jerking off alone.”

he raises an eyebrow at you, trying to understand if you mean what he thinks you mean. “like…?”

“like letting them watch you fuck your girlfriend?” you finish for him tentatively. even after everything tonight you still have doubts that you’ve misread his intentions, that maybe this is just a one-time thing to him and you don’t mean as much to him as he means to you.

he studies your face carefully. “is that what you are?” he asks hesitantly.

you nod slightly, the shyness from earlier suddenly rushing back in at the possibility of being rejected. “unless you didn’t want me to be.”

he shakes his head so fast it nearly gives you whiplash. “no— please. i do. so bad.”

you break out into a smile, cupping his face in your cheeks and leaning in to kiss his forehead. he hums, and the vibrations are warm against your chest . “you could’ve just asked me. like, years ago. would have avoided all the awkwardness of…”

“of you finding out i’m a porn star?”

you giggle, and he thinks it’s the most adorable sight he’s ever seen. lying naked in your arms together, making you laugh. “i thought you said you weren’t.”

he grins. “not really. but it makes me sound cooler when you say it.”

“i think you’re cool anyway, jun.”

he shifts and leans forward to capture your lips in his again, his mouth slow and tender as he kisses you this time. “i never wanna stop kissing you.”

you rub your thumbs across his cheeks, watching his fond expression that you know must be mirrored with your own. “then don’t.”

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i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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villainintern · 4 months ago

Text

... is an upcoming Choicescript interactive fiction game! You can follow development updates on the dev blog here, view the forum page here, and play the demo here.

Villain Intern is currently on Chapter One: Onboarding as of 9/8/24, sitting at just over 30,000 words.

[FAQ Here and character introductions here, for the newer villains!]

Play as an aspiring supervillain interning at UnderHand, a legacy criminal corporation. Start from the bottom and navigate a world where everyone has it out for you, leveraging your strange superhuman abilities and your knack for manipulation. Make a name for yourself as an executive villain (with your own swanky corner office!), or turn against your higher-ups and usurp the company,…or throw away your promising career for the greater good, I guess...

Powers and Customization:

Choose from two different ability trees. Play as either a homemade cyborg with (painful looking) mechanical augmentations of your own design, or a genetically mutated freak with mysterious, bizarre abilities derived from animal genes. Choose 3 of the 9 unique abilities available for each power type, which update (or mutate) to scale as you get stronger. Climb walls, perfectly mimic any voice, rotate your head 360 degrees, talk to the AI assistant in your brain, etc etc! As a rule, you start out villainous, but whether you’re charming or sinister, sniveling or demanding, and backstabbing or frontstabbing is up to you.

______________________________________________________________

Key Characters and Relationships

Relationship progression tracks two major stats- your connection with a character, and your rivalry, which are not mutually exclusive. So you can romance your greatest nemesis, backstab your closest friend, that kind of thing. Or both at once, with the same person, even..

Fellow Interns:

👾 Peter Hyde is your cubicle neighbor, a geeky slackoff who’s fond of novelty ties. Unlike you, Peter doesn’t really want to be here, but he seems for some reason unable to quit. Laid-back, conflict avoidant, and generally easy to manipulate, he’s easy minion material for the MC- but his attitude belies a volatile, monstrous secret. Which can be a great asset or a major risk, depending on if you can maintain your control over him.

🤖 T9-670 is a seven-foot tall ex-war machine. Once a military member conscripted to UnderHand’s private security decal, its contract didn’t end when it died- the soldier’s brain was transplanted into a humanoid steel frame with a dark glass plate for a face. T9 is doing some soul searching- it’s not totally sure if it even has one left, but it would like to have a purpose beyond fixing printers and mowing down UnderHand’s enemies with its plasma gun.

🔬 Dr. Dr. Elaine Foster is an up-and-coming mad scientist, assistant to the esteemed Dr. Shrink. Don’t bring up the fact that she has two doctorates and is still an intern. She’s a genius prodigy, but otherwise has no superhuman abilities, which causes her to be overlooked by your superiors. Passionate and inscrutable, she’s obsessed with making it to the top her own way, and will remain one step ahead of you if you aren’t careful.

🧪 Reid/Reney Sullivan (gender selectable, nb included) is your nemesis, or at least they think so. They’re employed by OverSight, the subsidized hero-corporation that works in tandem with the government. An interning hero with impressive telekinetic powers, they are nonetheless as much of an amateur as you, and so you find yourself on even footing with one of the most promising superheroes in the business. Earnest and witty, they genuinely just want to help people. Eventually, they become fixated on “figuring you out”, which can lead to them getting sucked into your schemes. That, or their meddling could be your downfall. Worst of all, they might even succeed in reforming you.

There’s also 👁️ Blink, a rogue superhuman- some say vigilante, others say independent villain. Completely anonymous, they wear a unique suit of tactical gear that allows them to turn completely invisible, the first of its kind. Quippy, chipper, and sauntering, they tend to use their powers for ridiculous, showy things like popping up behind newscasters on TV. An invisible superhuman that loves the spotlight, Blink is full of contradictions. And secrets, big ones, that pertain to you.

… plus a cast of older, more established villains and heroes- including The Man, UnderHand’s enigmatic CEO. A faceless, hollow man in an empty suit. Actually, nobody’s ever seen anything but the suit, so he might just be the suit.

______________________________________________________________

FURTHER READING: 🌃THE PINTEREST BOARD 🎧THE PLAYLIST

TAG ORGANIZATION: VI Updates - The big stuff, new demo content VI Info - The info posts, development news VI Asks - Anything coming through the inbox VI Characters - Character related info/bonus content VI Sketches - Doodles and concept art

#interactive fiction #choicescript #hosted games #choice of games #IF #VI updates

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facefullofsadness · 1 year ago

Text

psychopathic but it's okay

band!au (lsfm girlies but in a band and y/n is the 6th member)

guitarist!yunjin x bassist!y/n

prompt - you and yunjin are always arguing and after one argument, the latter has had it with you

content - smut (choking, degradation, overstimulation, slapping, handcuffs, cunnilingus, fingering, tribbing, multiple orgasms, jen kinda forces you into it), angst (harsh language, toxic, arguments, yelling), fluff if you squint hard

wc - 4405

author's note at the end :)

how many times just in this week have we argued already? I can't remember.

to say yunjin and I were toxic would be an understatement. it could be something wildly insignificant, but it wouldn't matter, we would be at each other's throats.

like last week when she told me to get the receipt for the takeout I ordered with kazuha and I forgot it. more like zuha did, but obviously, it was my fault because yunjin said it was.

and throughout this entire week we had been shouting at each other. any small inconvenience or misunderstanding, you name it, we argued about it. misplacing a hairbrush, accidentally eating someone's share, taking the wrong person's keys, showing up late to a meeting or practice. it was exhausting.

I can't even recall the last peaceful moment I had with this girl. it's been months of this dreadful and perpetual conflict that seemed to emerge out of nowhere, but it made me resent her in a way that I hated her guts.

I absolutely despise the way she thinks, her cocky attitude, her nonchalant responses, her dismissive demeanor, she drives me fucking insane.

which leads me to this moment, yelling at each other because she's playing ahead of the band.

"jen, play slower. you're fucking 2 seconds ahead of everyone else," I grumble, frustrated.

"oh whatever y/n, you try playing this shit. all you do is play the same bass line for 3 minutes straight," yunjin rolls her eyes back at me.

I close my eyes and bite my tongue, not wanting it to escalate, especially with the members around, "just play slower."

somehow, we moved on and all continued to practice. but this asshole never fixed her timing issue.

"yunjin, play slower!" I interrupt our practice again to yell at the girl.

she snaps her head at me, "fuck you y/n! I'm literally trying."

"but you're not though? because how are you still fucking off beat when we've been practicing this shit for weeks?!"

"oh my god, give me a break. you're so stuck up, sorry if I don't practice till the break of dawn everyday like you do. unlike you, I actually have a life, I don't have time to be a bratty perfectionist like you."

out of the corner of my eye, I see our youngest eunchae start to wanna speak up, but our leader chaewon stopping her from trying. with that, all the girls leave the room quietly as my blood boils at the words the raven-haired girl is throwing at me.

"I'm fucking stuck up? imagine having a career, THE dream job, and not even trying. you act like I don't have a goddamn life either jen, it's not my fault that I'm not lazy like you are."

the taller girl slings the guitar off her shoulder and aggressively puts it down before stomping up to me.

"I don't wanna hear your bossy mouth utter another word about my work ethic bitch. you're only so fussy about this because you don't have anything else in your life to look forward to."

"your sorry excuses are no use anymore yunjin. stop acting like you're the best when you're no better than an amateur, you're literally only here because there was no one else."

"did you want that to sting? sorry princess but that only works if it's the truth, we both know you all need me here. without me, you're nothing."

I clutch the strap of my bass and swing it off my body, immediately grabbing the collar of yunjin's shirt and pushing her back into the keyboard piano, making the stand shake.

"listen to me and listen fucking well. I can make you leave the band and you can act like it doesn't matter to you but I know you'll be devastated. I know you're just a scared little girl, too intimidated by the outside world to actually quit. you may not be scared of me which is why you don't try, but I'm exhausted of you trying to have power over me when you're just a weak sorry bitch who your parents are ashamed to care for anymore."

I struck it where it hurts because not only did I not care about if she would loathe me for my words, but I wanted it to.

suddenly, I'm being manhandled until my back falls against the couch in our practice room, yunjin's weight pressing me down. my hands struggle to push her off and break free, but her stronger grip grabs both of my wrists and pins them above my head against the arm rest of the sofa.

"fuck off of me jen!" I yell at her, body wriggling under her own.

her free hand suddenly takes hold of my neck and squeezes, forcing my throat to let out a struggled squeak and breath.

"shut the fuck up whore! I'm so tired of your yapping!" the girl above me growls and tightens her hold on both my wrists and neck.

I look up at her with fear growing in my eyes, and I can see the pure rage on her face. I'm incapable of moving my arms and hands free of her iron grip, and it steadily gets harder to breathe as I feel her nails, though short, dig into my skin.

"you're insufferable. you think I'm a weak sorry bitch with no power over you, huh? let me remind you otherwise since you're too braindead to remember how strong I am."

yunjin's gaze is wild. the fire in her eyes has no sign of calming and the clench in her jaw as she lowers her face towards mine doesn't release any tension. but as she nears herself and comes unfathomably close, there's no denying the lust that clouds her dilated pupils.

as my breathing becomes impossible and I get lightheaded, my senses increase and I can hear my own heart pounding in my ears. I can also hear her shaky breath and feel it reach my face. her knee in between my thighs presses against my core and I release a choked whimper.

"I'm gonna treat you like my own sex toy and you're gonna want me to fuck your brains out after I lay waste to your body. you are gonna be my fuck doll and you're gonna love every second of it, you hear me? dirty little slut."

I'm simultaneously terrified of the intensity and escalation of the situation, but I'm also unbelievably horny at this point. the ache in between my legs grows hot and I feel it start to throb with the way her knee digs deeper into my core.

"I can't..." I manage to choke out, pleading with the darting of my eyes focusing on her face and between her intense glare.

yunjin eventually releases tension on my throat, and I can breathe again, oxygen slowly enabling itself to run through my lungs again. the lustful stare never wavers, however, and both of our gazes are fixed on each other's eyes.

"I don't care if you can't take it, I'm gonna make you."

with that, she moves her hand, once choking my neck, and grasps around it, fingers clutching my nape, her head diving in to begin leaving sloppy kisses trailing my jaw downwards. the pressure on my airways is gone, but my breath still stops in my throat as her mouth kisses, sucks, and bites harshly at my neck.

"w-wait... don't do t-that..." I stutter, telling her to slow down or stop.

"shut the fuck up." she growls aggressively against my ear, "I'm gonna have you however I want."

there's no room for protest as I feel the hand on my neck trail down my collarbone and between my breasts, her finger circling around my right boob and going inwards, finally pinching the nipple at the middle.

"nghh.." the noise in my throat releases on its own.

"my little slut, so easy to use. why else wouldn't you wear a bra under such a mesh shirt? you wanted this so bad, didn't you?"

the treatment of my boobs and nipples harshens as she's suddenly slapping her hand against them, watching as they jiggle under my thin shirt. I yelp out in pain, still feeling my core rush with wetness.

"you're wearing too much," yunjin scoffs.

her hand pops open all the buttons of my shirt and fingers return to harassing my hard buds. my body struggles under her again as her tongue drags along my neck and across my collarbone, the sharp bites of her teeth occasionally making me tug at the harsh grip at my wrists again.

the noises of her mouth on my skin are so wet, I can even hear her heavy breathing and small moans escape, intensifying the pleasure building in my lower stomach. I can't help but release a deep groan at one of my abused nipples being enveloped by her needy mouth.

"f-fuck.. no, s-stop- ahhhh..." I try to get out.

my words are drowned out by the sounds of my whimpers growing louder and the slurping of my tit in her mouth. my eyes struggle to keep open, watching her tongue flick around my bud, yunjin switching to my other boob, repeating everything all the same.

"can you stop moving? god, I'm doing something here and your flailing is infuriating." she let's out a frustrated huff before detaching completely from my body, reaching for something underneath the couch.

my hands are free for a second before I feel cold steel capture my wrists, cuffing them together and securing them on a pipe against the wall.

"so much better." she states satisfied before bringing both her hands to slap both of the sides of my boobs.

I let out an unstable shout at the stinging pain that followed, and it only continued as she grasped at my chest with both hands and kneads at them needily.

"jen... please, ahhh.." I whimper out.

"huh? what was that y/n? you need to speak up for me." she continues her abuse on my tits as my eyes water.

"it hurts..." I manage.

"oh is that so? too bad I don't really care. after all, if I were weak, it wouldn't hurt so much right?" yunjin says in a mocking tone.

her hands become aggressive, dragging themselves down my body and grasping hard at my waist, squeezing my thighs, before landing a harsh slap on my ass, one side, then the next.

"yunjin ah! please! fuck, it hurts..."

"a powerless little girl like me shouldn't be able to harm you, right y/n-ie?"

fuck you huh yunjin.

my eyes are still squeezed shut as I feel her start to unbuckle my pants and zip them down, taking my jeans off of me. my core is absolutely throbbing with desire, panties soaked.

she places a finger at the hem of my underwear, dragging the digit down, trailing my mound, to my aching clit, through my leaking entrance, then pinching the material and letting it snap back into place, warranting a shiver down my spine at the feeling.

"I should've known a whore like you would be drenched after all that. you kick and whine about how much it hurts but look at how much you fucking love it."

it's hard to argue with her when the anticipation to feel her relieve my desire grows stronger the more she messes with me.

"don't worry darling, I'll ruin you perfectly."

I feel my panties get pushed to the side before a hot and wet muscle is felt at the base of my entrance trailing up slowly, until there's a hard suck at my bundle of nerves.

"fuckkkkk ahhhh!!!" I let out an involuntary scream at the feeling.

god it feels so good, my eyes squeezed shut as her onslaught of eating me out continues, hard and fast. she bends my knees and forces my legs apart, holding my thighs so she has free reign of my pussy.

"mmm, it's in the way," I hear her mumble before a loud tear is heard, assumedly from my panties.

I could care less when she sucks hard with her mouth over both my clit and hole, tongue darting between circling my bundle of nerves and digging into my pussy. I tug hard at my restraints, wanting so badly to grasp her luscious dark hair and push her into me.

my hips move on their own, trying to grind against her mouth, but they fail when yunjin's hands push my thighs apart again and she wraps her arms around them, hands on my waist. I force my eyes open and look down at her, what a sight.

her eyes are closed, and she looks peaceful. so unlike the rapid and desperate licking, sucking, and moaning coming out of her sinful mouth. the grip on my waist is firm but so gentle, her thumbs rubbing softly against my skin. she only takes a hand off of my waist to run fingers through her hair, pushing it back to have all the room she needs to indulge in my waterfall. yunjin definitely craved this more than me.

moans continued to slip out of my mouth, fueling her on.

"you're so delicious, this pussy is mine," I feel her mumble against my lips though still audible.

"fuck me jen, more more more, ahhh, yes, keep going just like that, oh my god!!!"

I was about to shut my eyes again until she looked up at me. through half lidded eyes, it almost looked like they were completely black, pupils so blown it was hard to tell if she was human. the desire was so fiery in her eyes and looking up at me only drew her in further, digging her face into my pussy.

her tongue dug impossibly deep into my hole, flicking wildly inside of me, making me arch my back in immense pleasure. her nose rubbing against my hot clit contributed to the build up of my impending climax.

the hold on my waist tightened, securing my hips down to the sofa, her eyes closed again as I shut my own as well, the noises coming from a mixture of my leaking pussy and her lewd slurping were indescribably orgasmic, the desperate moaning slipping from both of our mouths were borderline embarrassing if it weren't for our soundproof walls covering the sounds of sin.

"jennifer oh my god fuck fuck please, shit. b-baby... I'm, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum sosososo hard..." I rambled.

I heard as I continued to incoherently mumble anything that came to mind as I felt her grip on my waist start to hurt, nails digging into my skin, making my lower half impossible to move.

"give me your cum now, let me drink you," yunjin says with the sexiest most raspy voice I've heard from her.

a low moan from deep in her throat against my pussy vibrates against my clit, her tongue thrusting into my hole repeatedly at insane speeds. it was so overwhelming and more than enough to launch me over the edge.

my vision disappeared, my body shook viscerally, my mouth fell open and loud screaming came out of it as I orgasmed with so much pleasure. I felt my pussy gush cum into yunjin's expectant mouth, her tongue continuing to flail in me. I struggle hard against the restraints still, feeling my wrists sting with every tug. I can't think straight, my body shaking with every wave of pleasure that runs through me.

I fall limp, my head shaking left to right and mumbles coming out of my mouth. yunjin calms her pace and gives kitten licks up and down my slit, lapping up any other juices I released that she missed. her grip on my waist loosens, and they caress my sides carefully. she makes her way up to meet my face, planting abnormally soft kisses in her wake, her hands softly caressing my red skin. all the slap markings, all the bites, all the hickies, all the nail marks, spots red, spots bloody, her touch eases the pain.

"y/n..." she whispers against my ear, making me shiver.

I can't even open my eyes as the exhaustion hits me hard. I hear her mess with the pipe and cuffs around my wrists before I feel my hands fall against the arm rest again, freeing my arms finally. yunjin picks both of them up and places gentle pecks all around both wrists, slowly spreading her comfort across my entire body.

"jen..." a croak somehow comes out of my mouth.

"baby..." her voice, gentle...

"are you okay angel?" she whispers loud enough for me to hear.

my heart stops beating but resumes at the speed of sound after a moment.

I can't respond, and so she comes closer to my face and cups my cheek with a careful hand, intently observing my expression and condition. I feel her thumb softly caress my bottom lip and her stare fall onto my slightly open mouth.

"I.. I'm..." I can't form another word as the exhaustion catches up and my eyes fall shut.

every other sense of mine is alert, I'm still fully conscious, but my eyes refuse to open, they simply can't. I feel yunjin come closer to me then suddenly small kisses tracing my jaw, lips against my ear.

"you can rest y/n-ie, I'll do the rest."

wait, what?

her hand that was once on my face trails down my body, tracing over all the marks again, before her slender fingers slip between my folds, causing my entire body to jolt.

"jen?!" I shriek out, my hands flying to grip her arms.

"shhh, just relax. I told you already, you're just my little sex toy, I need to get my usage out of you."

fuck, I should've known she was feigning generosity.

I had no time to respond as after gathering enough of my cum from my last orgasm, yunjin swiftly slips two fingers into my tired cunt.

"FUCK!" I scream out.

my body reacts on its own, shaking against her warm body leaning against me.

"you've got another one in you, don't you?"

her pace picks up quickly, my pussy burning at the speed. suddenly, her thumb rubs harshly against my overstimulated clit, causing me to cry out.

"t-too much! please!" I sob into her shoulder.

yunjin's body hovers over mine, holding me close. one of my hands gripping her arm pumping in and out of me, the other clutching the back of her shirt, my face wet with tears flowing in her shoulder, melting into her neck.

"you should've thought about that before you talked shit huh?"

"I- I can't!"

"I already told you I don't fucking care y/n, how many times do I have to say it?"

I feel my own tears stain the taller girl's shirt as her fingers ram into my abused hole over and over again, pulling out all the way just to slam back into me again. I scream intensely when a third finger is added, immediately hitting that euphoric spot inside.

"fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," I chant between every pump of her swift fingers.

"you truly make the perfect little cum slut don't you?"

"jen, ah, ah, ah, please, fuck..."

"what is it baby? feel it coming again?"

I moan out an incomprehensible 'yes' in response, to which I feel yunjin smile against my forehead, planting a sweet peck.

"beg me angel, beg me to keep fucking you until you cum."

my eyes roll back into my head, tears still spilling out and hands gripping for dear life. even if I wanted to beg, I don't think I'm physically capable.

her fingers still inside of me, stopping her movement on my pussy entirely, even on my clit. I whine loudly in response, legs shaking and grip tightening on her.

"no no please yunjin, I- I need you, I need you to keep fucking me. I need to finish, I need your fingers, I'm so close jinny, please please, god please let me cum. I can't, I can't take it, it hurts, it hurts so bad, jen oh god please, don't fucking stop. I need you to keep going, please don't stop now, please please jen-"

my rambling is interrupted by her fingers pounding into my cunt once again, with impossible speed, making my throat strain with another uncontrollable scream of pleasure.

"let it go, give it to me y/n. I want to feel it gush around me again, I need to feel your body fall apart."

and just as quickly as it started, it ended. an explosion of euphoria ripples through me again, I feel goosebumps form on my skin as I moan deafeningly, my fingers sinking into yunjin's body and holding on for dear life. her fingers continue to get sucked into me, clenching hard onto her long digits as she rubs my clit still.

"yes, that's my girl, give it all to me."

my body is shaking, with every subtle touch yunjin does to me, it reacts. my mouth stays open as I can feel the saliva drool out, my eyes barely open but it's no use, it's not like I can see anything clearly.

"your body is just meant for this y/n, I was right. my perfect little angel, the best fuck doll for me."

her fingers slip out of me and I grunt at the loss of fullness. out of the very small field of view I have, I watch as she sucks the juices off her fingers, closing her eyes and savoring the flavor, licking up each of them one by one.

"you're doing so well, but baby..." she leans in and mumbles against my lips, "give me one more."

there's no room for resistance as she moves to get into position. what a menace huh yunjin is. she already knows I'm fucked out of my mind that I'm physically incapable of doing anything. I've always been really sensitive and she's using that weakness against me ten fold.

I try my best to pay attention to what she's doing, watching as she slides her shorts and panties down her legs, the two articles of clothing absolutely soaked. she gets on top of me again and lifts one of my legs up, wrapping it around her waist, her straddling my pussy with her own, interlocking our legs.

"it's finally my turn. fuckkk..."

she moans out as she starts to grind her pussy against mine. every thrust makes my body jolt with overstimulation, I don't know how to take it anymore.

however, watching huh yunjin roll her hips against me, her hands placing my own on her waist, watching as she throws her head back and sweat drips down her long neck, my pleasure grows again. the woman looks ethereal riding me, using my body to get off, it's unreal how delectable watching her fuck me is.

"f-faster, h-harder, jen..." both of us look surprised when I manage to speak.

a sinister smirk crawls and spreads across the aforementioned woman's face, hands on my thighs tapping in approval, "of course darling, who am I to deny?"

and so she fucks me harder, so much harder. so much fucking faster. I immediately see stars and the squelching lewd noises of our sopping cunts fill my ears, accompanied by the pornographic moans from both of us. I feel the rhythmic pattern of yunjin's hips rolling against me with my hands on her waist.

I pull her forward against me, thrusting my own hips up into her, gaining leverage and screaming out in pleasure as our clits bump repeatedly because of this.

"fuck y/n! you're so good at this, don't... don't you dare give out on me right now, you feel too fucking incredible."

the girl above me has her head down facing my own, eyes screwed shut, face scrunched up looking focused, mouth hanging open. one of my hands feel up her body, trailing up her covered front and grazing her nipples, eliciting a groan to come from her throat. my hand cups her cheek and pulls her closer to my face, making her open her eyes and make eye contact with me.

we stare straight into each others' eyes, observing the expressions on our faces, memorizing the view forever. I hate this girl so much, I hate her with my entire being, but she's beautiful, she's goddess-like, and she's absolutely perfect in my trembling hands, looking into my eyes like I'm the only one in her world.

yunjin leans in to finally kiss me, plump and soft lips roughly clashing against my own. I desperately chase to reciprocate the passion she pushes into my mouth, forcing my tongue into her and ramming it down her throat, making her moan out. her mouth feels like heaven on earth as I melt into her delicious strawberry flavored lips, tongue and her saliva tasting like all the cum she sucked out of my cunt just moments prior.

her thrusts become sloppy and I feel my hole start to clench around nothing as we moan into each others' mouth.

"cum with me love, cum with me, please baby, I need you." her voice shaky and sounding vulnerable.

I open my eyes one last time to look up at her, eyes getting watery too. I take her bottom lip into my mouth and pull away with my teeth, letting it go with a pop.

"I'm cumming love, I'm cumming..." I warn her.

I pull her into me and hug her, embracing her tightly as she painfully grips my thighs, stilling her hips and feeling her warmth leak all over my pussy. I moan along with her, screaming out in blinding pleasure, my heat flooding both of our thighs and running down my legs, onto the couch under.

she collapses on top of me, her entire body weight covering me completely. I snuggle my face into her neck, placing soft kisses around every area I could reach.

"are you okay?" I ask softly into her ear.

I'm met with no response but soft breathing near my ear. I peer over to look at her face and she's out cold.

I giggle softly at the gorgeous woman sprawled out on top of me, legs intertwined, cum running down our legs, her lips bruised and red.

"I think I won this argument jennifer."

a/n - i'm just realizing that this barely had any actual band dynamics or anything and that makes me sad bc i love that shit so much. sob, oh well maybe another time (part???). my first idea for this concept was slow down by chase atlantic but then i switched it bc i feel like i could write a better plot for the lyric i orginally chose so stay tuned mayhaps in the future. anyways, hiiiii first post pls don't bully me tumblr is foreign land to me but writing is not though I haven't written in months 😙 enjoy first fic w my actual gf (like actually fr fr huh yunjin is my gf she proofread this-)

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supernova2205 · 2 months ago

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The Long Game

Chapter 5 semi-final

Summary: Tensions escalate as the team races to rescue their missing members, only to uncover a dangerous enemy pulling the strings. Trapped and outnumbered, survival becomes a deadly game where every choice carries a price—and betrayal lurks in the shadows.

Warning: Talks of violence

The blast had knocked the wind out of you, but the eerie silence afterward was worse. Dust clouded your vision, and the faint smell of smoke lingered as you struggled to orient yourself. Price’s voice was the first thing you registered, low but firm.

“On your feet, now.”

You coughed and blinked, his hand already pulling you up before you could respond. The ache in your side was sharp, but adrenaline shoved the pain aside.

“Are you hit?” he asked, his eyes scanning you for injuries.

“No, I’m good,” you lied, your voice hoarse.

He didn’t buy it, but there wasn’t time for an argument. The corridor ahead was barely intact, crumbling debris blocking the way you’d come. “We’re cut off,” Price muttered, glancing at the rubble. His expression darkened as he keyed his radio.

“Ghost, Soap, Gaz, do you copy?”

Static.

Price grimaced, slamming his radio against the wall. “Damn it.”

You adjusted your weapon, stepping closer. “We’re on our own, then?”

“For now.” His tone left no room for doubt. “Stay close and keep your eyes open. We’re not out of this yet.”

Elsewhere, Ghost, Soap, and Gaz were pacing the extraction point, their movements tense and restless.

“They should’ve been here by now,” Soap said, glancing toward the horizon.

Gaz checked his watch for the third time, shaking his head. “Something’s wrong. They were farther ahead of us to just go radio silent like this.”

Ghost stood apart from the others, his arms crossed and his gaze fixed on the direction you and Price had last been seen. “We’re not leaving without them,” he said, his voice low but resolute.

Soap frowned, his usual levity nowhere to be found. “We don’t even know where to start looking.”

Ghost turned to him, his tone razor-sharp. “We start where we lost them. Move out.”

You and Price moved cautiously through the ruins, the air heavy with tension. The facility had been abandoned for years, but the explosion had stirred something—or someone—awake.

“Feel like we’re being watched,” you muttered, gripping your rifle tighter.

Price nodded, his gaze darting to the shadows. “We are.”

A flicker of movement to your left made you freeze, and Price’s hand shot up, signaling you to stay quiet. The faint click of a safety being disengaged was all the warning you got before the first shot rang out.

“Cover!” Price barked, shoving you behind a metal beam as bullets tore through the air.

The firefight was chaotic, the attackers relentless and precise. These weren’t amateurs—they moved with calculated precision, forcing you and Price into a defensive position.

“Who the hell are these guys?” you shouted over the noise, your back pressed against the cold metal.

“Don’t know,” Price growled, reloading his weapon. “But they’re not here by accident.”

Just as you peeked out to fire, a sharp pain exploded at the back of your head, and the world went dark.

Soap and Gaz followed Ghost back into the wreckage, their movements careful but purposeful. The damage was extensive, the aftermath of the explosion making navigation difficult.

“You think they’re still in here?” Soap asked, his voice unusually quiet.

“They are,” Ghost said firmly.

“What makes you so sure?”

Ghost paused, kneeling to inspect a small object on the ground. He held it up—a bloodied knife, unmistakably yours. His grip tightened, and he stood without a word, his focus unwavering.

Gaz exhaled sharply. “We’ve gotta move fast.”

When you woke, your hands were bound, and a splitting headache pulsed at your temples. The room was dimly lit, and the faint sound of voices echoed from somewhere nearby.

Price was beside you, his head tilted forward as if he was unconscious. You nudged him with your shoulder. “Price,” you whispered urgently.

He stirred, groaning softly as he lifted his head. His face was bruised, a cut on his temple still bleeding. “You alright?” he asked, his voice rough.

“Could ask you the same,” you muttered.

Before either of you could say more, the door creaked open, and heavy boots entered the room. Your stomach twisted as the figure stepped into the light, their face unmistakable.

It was none other than General Shepherd, the man responsible for countless betrayals in the past. His presence here was impossible—and yet, there he stood, a cruel smile tugging at his lips.

“Well, isn’t this a sight?” Shepherd drawled, his voice calm but laced with menace. “Captain Price and his little protégé. I almost missed you two.”

Price’s expression hardened, his hands straining against his bindings. “Shepherd,” he spat. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

Shepherd chuckled, crouching in front of you. “Supposed to be, yes. But you know how hard I am to kill.”

He turned his attention to you, his gaze unsettling. “And you… You’re new to this little game, aren’t you? Shame you got caught up in it.”

“Go to hell,” you snapped, earning a sharp slap across the face.

“Careful,” Shepherd said, his tone icy. “You’ve got spirit. Let’s see how long that lasts.”

Back with the team, Ghost was unrelenting in his search. Every clue, every faint trail, he pursued with singular focus. Soap and Gaz followed, their determination matching his despite the growing tension.

“You’re pushing too hard,” Soap muttered as they moved through another corridor.

Ghost shot him a glare. “Not hard enough. We’re running out of time.”

Gaz stepped between them, his tone calm but firm. “Focus. They’re counting on us.”

They pressed on, the weight of the situation pressing heavily on their shoulders.

Hours blurred together as Shepherd’s men interrogated you and Price, their methods brutal and relentless. The room reeked of blood and sweat, and your body ached from the repeated blows.

“You’re wasting your time,” Price growled, his voice hoarse but unwavering. His words were met with another strike, but he refused to give them the satisfaction of a reaction.

Shepherd smirked from the corner of the room, watching the scene unfold with detached amusement. “You always were stubborn, John. I’d say it’s admirable, but really, it’s just pathetic at this point.”

“And you’re still a snake,” Price shot back, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.

“Call me what you like,” Shepherd replied, leaning against the wall. “But while you’re here playing the martyr, your team is walking straight into my trap.”

Your heart sank at his words, and you exchanged a glance with Price. Neither of you spoke, but the unspoken dread was clear in his eyes.

Meanwhile, Ghost, Soap, and Gaz had tracked you and Price to an abandoned compound deep in the forest. The perimeter was heavily guarded, patrols moving in precise formations.

“Bloody fortress,” Soap muttered, lowering his binoculars.

Ghost stayed silent, his gaze fixed on the guards. His mind was racing, calculating the risks and weighing the odds.

“We’ll have to split up,” he finally said.

“That’s suicide,” Gaz argued.

“It’s the only way to cover ground quickly,” Ghost countered. “We don’t have time to play it safe.”

Soap sighed, his usual humor nowhere to be found. “Fine. But if we screw this up…”

“We won’t,” Ghost interrupted. His tone left no room for debate.

Inside the compound, Shepherd received a report from one of his men. His smirk widened as he turned back to you and Price.

“They’re here,” he said casually, as if discussing the weather. “Right on schedule.”

Price tensed, his muscles coiled like a spring. “If you hurt them—”

“What?” Shepherd interrupted, stepping closer. “You’ll stop me? From where you’re sitting, John, you’re in no position to make threats.”

He crouched in front of you, his expression darkening. “And you… You’ve got a choice to make. Help me bring your team to their knees, or watch them die one by one. Starting with him.” He nodded toward Price.

You glared at him, your resolve hardening. “Go to hell.”

Shepherd’s smile faded, replaced by cold fury. “Wrong answer.”

Outside the compound, Ghost led the team closer, their movements silent and precise. They’d taken out a few guards without raising the alarm, but the tension was suffocating.

As they approached the main building, Ghost stopped suddenly, his hand signaling for the others to freeze. He’d spotted something—a faint light flickering in one of the upper windows.

“That’s them,” he said quietly, his voice like steel.

“Are we going in loud or quiet?” Soap whispered.

Ghost’s grip tightened on his weapon. “We go in smart. And we don’t leave without them.”

Back at the compound Shepherd gives an order, his voice calm but deadly: “Bring them to me. Alive. For now.”

At the same time, Ghost and the team breach the compound, the sound of gunfire erupting as chaos unfolds.

To be continued…

Authors note: omg naurrrr what’s going on guys you don’t know how many times I’ve rewritten this chapter and I’m still considering rewriting it again let me know what you think and get ready for the final chapters

#Sheppard #soap mw2 #captain price #cod 141 #ghost #gaz cod #light angst #task force 141 #cod modern warfare #cod x reader #cod #cod mw3 #poly 141 #tf 141 x you

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vilz · 1 year ago

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hello obviously there isn't anything i can really do to control this (unfortunately i deleted a bunch of posts BEFORE turning off reblogs on them) but i would prefer that people did not circulate my posts from this blog any more... i appreciate that people are kind to me about my art, but that is just my request i suppose. this blog is unprivated now, and if you'd like to see what is still up you can look at them here. my ask box is also open but i will not be making any art posts here from now on. here is a little preemptive faq:

why did you leave?

i didn't feel comfortable or happy posting on this blog any more!

do you still make art? do you post it somewhere else?

yes. but i've been pulling away from posting very much online, and the things i'm interested in drawing nowadays are generally more private, so i won't be directing anyone there or anything. i don't consider my new blog to be a continuation of this one.

i know your new blog!

that isn't really that surprising since i didn't honestly put great effort into concealing it or anything. we are probably not friends, so i hold no sway over you, but i would still prefer you did not share it or treat me as if i am still "vilz who posts fnaf art". i'm just a whatever blogger who blogs about whatever things. also to be frank i do not think my new blog has anything that interesting for people who followed for the kind of art i used to post here. this is not an invitation to say "it is interesting!".

we are friends!

if we have not been in direct, mutual conversations i highly doubt that. i'm sorry if that hurts anyone's feelings.

why did you delete all your self ship art?

people seem to enjoy my self ship art a lot, which is very flattering, but i don't want people to be looking at them any more. i realize that they are still rebloggable and are still circulating around, which is nobody's fault but my own, but i would prefer they were not shared any more. i can't really do anything about it and i also don't blame anyone for reblogging those posts since it's obviously not something they would know, but yeah.

i saw your art on pinterest!

i did not and do not consent to my works being put on pinterest. the art from "vilz" has not been uploaded by me to any other website besides tumblr. if someone is posting my art from here on a different platform, they are doing so without permission.

i saw you on magma!

i still join magma boards sometimes lol. it's a fun site.

what about your ocs?

they are still my ocs. sometimes i still draw them. currently, i do not have any plans of posting my oc art online ever again. i would prefer that people did not reblog the oc art i have posted to this blog.

what about your fics?

all of my fics are still up on ao3 anonymously. they are: small mercies obscura floriography baying of lambs scrape bitch, bastard, bullshit almost human a dream, recurring countdown i'm very flattered and happy that people have left kind comments on these. thank you very much for reading the words of an amateur and for sharing an experience with me.

are you going to finish your uncompleted fics?

i would really like to say yes, because i care a great deal about aspects of them, but it's looking pretty unlikely. i lost all my files (and my calmlywriter key !!! always save your emails and receipts, everyone!!!) and also it's hard to feel motivated about them now. i guess i will leave this up in the air just to soothe my own feelings but in reality the answer is Probably Not.

are you going to post new fics?

i might, because i've been in a writing mood lately, but please don't expect anything. if i do, they will be anonymous on ao3. i will not post about them here or on any other blog.

i really liked your posts and blog!

thank you. i'm glad that people could feel that way about the things i made and thought about stuff i care about. irregardless, i would prefer that people did not share my old posts from this blog.

i will do it anyway.

i cannot stop you, so there isn't really any point in pleading. i just thought i'd make a little info post for people who are inquiring. after this, there won't be any "posts" from me. if there are relevant questions or messages i might reply to them or just update this post.

thank you for reading and for enjoying my blog. goodbye !!!

#this has been a missive from ur friend valentine #sincere regards #vilz

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fractualized · 1 year ago

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Alright. Let's break down this "oh" of an ending. NEGATIVE NANCY, COMING THROUGH

Spoilers, ho!

Ending a story is hard, if they're long or short. Whether you wrap up key threads or leave them open, you want some kind of takeaway that puts a period on things. Even in comics, where we know these characters will go on and on, ideally a story will end in a way that just... fits. Even amateur fic writers have loads of WIPs just sitting there because exactly how to end this damn thing eludes them.

I don't know if Rosenberg had an ending in mind when he started The Man Who Stopped Laughing. I don't know if he decided he'd figure it out by the end of it's year-long run. I don't know if DC Editorial lets people do that; it sounds insane, but if you've been paying attention to their current level of editorial "oversight," which I imagine is supposed to make concurrent titles mesh together reasonably well, I wouldn't be shocked if they let people wing it. Or, more likely, perhaps DC Editorial swooped in and made Rosenberg change the ending he had planned and that's why the result falls flat.

In any case, after 11 issues of enjoying myself, I'm left feeling deflated.

But let's start where #12 does, with the Joker who's been told he's John Keyser, a toxin'd henchmen that the real Joker made into a doppelganger for funsies. He approaches a hotdog vendor.

I'm stuck on "Hello. I've been looking for you"?? I didn't catch that on my first read. Joker has a favorite hotdog vendor? lol

Shut up, Waffles!! All we have is your word for it!!

In any case, hey, Keyser Joker has already been Jokering this long, so yeah, why not keep going? And why not with help from poor woobie Jason, fresh from nearly getting himself killed in Gotham War?

Bruce did not fix Jason at the end of Gotham War, so his adrenaline is still triggering fear in his brain. But Keyser Joker has a solution for that!

It's a tiny dose of Joker toxin to take the edge off of Bruce's programming. Joker makes a point of saying that the effects are only temporary, though. (And like, I assume this is just the quick-fix solution Rosenberg came up with to pull off his own ending when told Bruce's plans for Jason over in the other titles.) Jason is skeptical of this "help," naturally, but Keyser Joker brings up their matching interest: getting rid of the other Joker.

Jason, why you gotta ruin Albert's good time? 🙄

Cut to Red Hood dragging a clown henchman through the streets of Gotham.

But "his" face being blacked out and some of the dialogue clue the reader in: things aren't what they seem.

DERAIL TIME: what is up with this batmobile?

Like from some other angles, it looks sportier, but in most of the panels it looks like an old Buick? lol ANYWAY.

With the flaily way this person jumps off the bike and runs, I was sure that this was Keyser Joker and we might see Batman interact with him. Alas.

It's Ravager, who survived last issue's explosion. She's helping Jason 1) distract Batman and 2) get Albert out of harm's way, far from Keyser Joker's plan.

Naturally Keyser Joker is planning something more destructive than he's led Jason to believe. Also like…

The idea that Keyser Joker really is this John guy, not the real deal, is still not sitting fucking right with me. Seeing him here in another costume, with a goofy death train with mismatched eyes just like his, it feels like a signal that he actually is Joker and Waffles is either lying or mistaken somehow. Like compared to the other Joker, who we haven't seen in a costume? Who left Gotham for weird reasons? I really thought there was going to be a reverse reveal.

And since it doesn't come, I guess it's a good time to mention that! There is no reverse reveal of who the real Joker is. Things get a little muddy later, but…. hrm. HRM.

That said, the other Joker does something pretty dang Jokery: he shows up in a dirigible with his face on it.

Killer Moth and a bunch of clown goons (that aren't supposed to be available because of Gotham War but WHATEVER) attach the dirigible to the train and it's pretty chaotic!

I love when villains are like, "Look I may kill people, but an endangered gorilla?! Get outta here!" 😂

Jason also arrives in style.

I guess he was observing Ravager's distraction?? Which feels like it defeats part of the purpose of having her do the distraction. But then he couldn't have this cool entrance in which he bludgeons people with a motorcycle. Trade offs!

Meanwhile, Real Joker makes it to the front of the train to confront Keyser Joker. One of Real's goons offers to shoot Keyser, but Real Joker wants to make this personal and kills the poor hench so he can do it himself.

Jason coming in like YEEEEEAAAAHHHHH 😎

Then he gets the bad news.

Keyser is as casually suicidal as your average Joker! Also "Real" Joker never acknowledges Red Hood's identity, afaik. It's always Keyser Joker. Details like this got me thinking that reverse reveal was coming, AND YET.

That aside, next comes a fun comedy beat.

Real Joker going right for the hair!

Jason isn't going to let this be the end of it, of course, and once again Killer Moth must suffer at his hands.

Jason shoots so many clowns. Just never the one he wants. 😞

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaait wait wait. You're telling me that Bruce knew about the imminent TWO JOKERS situation. But he decided to prioritize a report of Red Hood dragging a clown through the streets. When in the same breath he's saying there are other people coming to the scene with him, so he obviously could've sent someone else? On the same day Batman #139 is like "oooh Bruce is totally onto Joker now"? This is what you're telling me?? Augh.

Well, we can't rely on Batman right now, clearly, so it's up to Jason.

Meanwhile, Keyser Joker has told the other one that he actually does have a secret way off the runaway train safely. After they fight some more, the tune starts to change.

Alright so, this "deal," which would sort of start them back at square one, doesn't bother me because obviously it's on shaky-ass ground and one of them is definitely killing the other before this issue is over. What does bug me is the "franchising" line, for two reasons:

1) Is this supposed to imply that Real Joker is the one who was behind Joker Incorporated in the Batman Incorporated issues, not a third one?

2) I was just SO SURE it was another indication we were getting a reverse reveal. Joker absolutely does not love the franchising idea. That's kind of been the point of this whole series. The genuine Joker in Keyser Joker's hallucination/memory said that having two Jokers around is stupid. HRRRRMMM.

Anyhow, they leave the train together, though the escape plan is literally just jumping off, which has more issues than they bargained for.

So do you think, assuming the Gotham War writers actually communicated at least a little, that Zdarsky asked Rosenberg what he needed Jason for at the end of TMWSL, and Rosenberg was like, "oh I need him to heroically crash a toxic blimp and almost die?" And then Zdarsky was like, "er, I need him to heroically fly a plane into a magic meteor and almost die?" And then they just shrugged and closed the Zoom?

But yeah, the blimp crashes, and I'm sort of confused because I thought that earlier Bruce was saying that even if the toxin gets into the water, it'll still make it's way to the city. So for one thing, it's still exploding in the air and it's still gonna drift. And the parts that dissolve in water are still gonna drift. There's a part to the equation missing here.

But these two are just thrilled at the excitement.

Until the sudden yet inevitable betrayal.

BUT WHO WAS JOKE

Shortly after this, Ravager shows up with Manhunter, who also survived last issue's explosion. (It just doesn't come up at all. Like it doesn't have to, I guess, but it's just weird that there's not a word or wound about it.) Ravager dives into the water looking for Jason, because she instinctually knows he did something grand and dumb. She finds him among the clown bodies and brings him to shore.

Nothing can kill this man! He came back from the dead with nine lives! And also maybe that Lazarus resin from TFZ is still helping, I dunno.

Elsewhere along the shore, what's left of both Jokers' crews find themselves waiting in the same spot for the Joker they expect to be triumphant.

You know what. I'm soured on Waffles now. Leave him.

And then, from the water…

And that's it. That's how it ends. With a sort of snide cop-out?

Like, it's Joker's POV, so yeah, you could say the dickish tone is just him. But following this story for a year, and then seeing it end with simply the old "you'll never know which Joker prevailed," it doesn't feel clever or whatever this is going for. It just feels obnoxious.

Honestly, it feels like the same takeaway as freaking Three Jokers. 😐 That it doesn't matter who Joker is. All the lead-up to this, where maybe we get a tiny bit of depth and development, even if just in this story, eh. Doesn't matter! We're ending this with blah payoff.

On the other hand, the part of about about there being more questions, about this ending not being tidy, makes me think that this is leaving open the possibility that Keyser Joker actually was the real one. After all, we don't get a flashback to the actual events. The events we see are part of a hallucination, and Keyser never said he had clear memories of being the real or the fake one. He just went from assuming he was the real one to taking Waffles' word for it that he was the henchman.

Also, Keyser Joker was always the Joker giving narration. And the narration boxes for the Final Joker at the end remain in his style. So it seems like we actually have a huge indication of which Joker prevailed-- unless we're meant to assume that if the other Joker prevailed, he merely took over the narration.

I mean, this is what we have. So if I can just choose what I want to believe, I'm going to believe both that Keyser was actually the real guy and that he won. But it puts a real sour taste in my mouth to be super engaged with a story and wanting an ending that says something about Joker's character… and the ending is just that one murders the other and you don't know who, neener neener. It's anticlimactic. It's a predictable direction that I thought SURELY Rosenberg wouldn't go in. It feels like a dick move.

And... what else is there to say? So ends my year of consistently buying a comic, I guess. Nothing else has really grabbed me like TMWSL did, though City of Madness looks promising. After the multiverse and Gotham War stuff, I'm not about to start picking up Zdarsky's Batman. #139 had plenty I should enjoy, but it's soured by Zdarsky deciding to bring a canonical take to the three Jokers concept for some ungodly reason.

A new three Jokers take feels extra stupid after a year of a story about two Jokers. And the second Joker in TMWSL isn't even taken into account in Zdarsky's story. Based off that #135 scene, it really looks like he's going to say that Darwin Halliday accidentally copied TKJ Joker somehow. lmao Why. Why do we have to do this. Why can't this just be one of the things that gets retconned away. I just want my murderclown to be fun.

I need to get back to my list of unread older comics. Or read One Operation Joker! I didn't think I was interested, but I think a random goofy premise is actually just what I need.

#the man who stopped laughing #joker #spoilers #my jibber-jabber #sorry for being a downer

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theloveoffootball10 · 12 days ago

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sᴛɪᴄᴋᴡɪᴛᴜ- ᴛ ʜ ɪ ʀ ᴛ ʏ ɴ ɪ ɴ ᴇ

s e r i e s m a s t e r l i s t / c o m p l e t e m a s t e r l i s t

ᴛ ʜ ɪ ʀ ᴛ ʏ ɴ ɪ ɴ ᴇ

The last few months have been crazy. I'm currently stood in the kitchen of Lando's Monaco apartment waiting for him to get home from China after the first two races of the season, both of which have ended in him on the podium giving him a better start to the season than last year.

Since Lando gave me a key to his place I've found myself spending more and more time here. I only really go back to England to see family and friends if Lando's going to be away for a few weeks or if I have to be in the office for whatever reason. I've found myself wanting to be here in Monaco waiting for him when he gets back from races, I don't want him to come back to an empty apartment.

Knowing the state Lando would get himself into last year I like to be here for him whenever he might need me. I've learned over time to read his behaviour and have an idea of what to expect after each session on the sim or in the car. It's crazy to think this time last year I never would have imagined I'd be stood here practically living in Monaco with a boyfriend who means everything to me.

"Hi baby" hearing Lando walk through the door I take one look at him and can tell he's exhausted.

"Hey. How you feeling?"

"Good but ready to sleep" Lando says pulling me into his arms. It's so nice to have the familiar feeling of being in his arms back after a long two long weeks without him. The time difference has made it harder to speak to each other but we've made it work "I missed you"

"I missed you too. It's been quiet without you. Why don't you go and chill, I'll make us something to eat"

"Thank you. You're the best baby" as Lando pulls away he kisses the top of my head and I leave him to do what he needs to while I throw together a quick spaghetti carbonara. He's probably too exhausted to eat but at least it's there when he wants it "baby have you seen this new trend of me on TikTok?"

"You need to be more specific Lando. There's a lot of things going around TikTok of you" I say sticking my head in the living room to see what Lando is talking about.

"There's pictures of me and all it says is 'five minutes and a hair tie' they're all good photos of me to be fair" rolling my eyes I lean over the back of the sofa so I can look over Lando's shoulder at the videos he's talking about.

"They're all amateurs. I don't need five minutes or a hair bobble when I've got your hands pulling my hair into a ponytail"

"Fucking hell Lu you can't say stuff like that after two weeks without you"

"I'm just saying babe. Your girlfriend knows what's she doing. I won't be too much longer, this carbonara won't cook itself" standing up I walk back into the kitchen leaving Lando to ponder over what I've said.

"I just couldn't stay away after what you said" feeling Lando behind me within minutes of me leaving him in the living room he steps closer, his hands landing on my hips, pulling me against him.

His lips hover over my neck, teasing but not quite touching. Each time he exhales on it sends shivers down my spine. His hand slowly slides up my back, his fingers grazing my skin, making my whole body tingle, I can't help but let out a low groan.

Lando's grip tightens as he turns me around in his arms, his lips crashing against mine, the tension of the moment releasing all at once cementing just how much I've missed his physical touch over the last two weeks. Our kiss is urgent, we're like starved animals.

The feeling of being back together has awakened something new in him. I tangle my fingers in Lando's curls as my back hits the edge of the kitchen bench, I am physically aching for any kind of touch.

"You drive me insane Lucía" His voice is low as he pulls back, watching my every move his eyes darken with lust.

"So do what you want with me. I'm yours Lando"

As the words leave my lips, Lando's hands slip under his hoodie that I'm wearing, his rough fingertips sending a waves of heat across my skin. My body responds on its own accord, as I find myself turned in Lando's arms and my body bent over onto the kitchen bench.

Every kiss, every touch, the anticipation of Lando's next move makes my body ache with need as I feel my clothes being removed from my body. His lips move down my neck and across my shoulder, while his hands roam along my thighs.

I can't see what Lando is doing but I can tell he's fumbling with his joggers to get them off and eventually he does. I bite my lip as I feel my underwear being moved to one side giving Lando access to exactly where I want him.

"I need you badly Lucía. You're absolutely perfect" leaning into Lando's body I feel how hard he is against my wetness "you're so wet baby. Just for me. Is this how much you missed me?"

"Lando please" I'm aware how desperate I sound but I just need him to fuck me hard. He continues teasing me, frustrating me even more before finally giving me what I want. What I've been craving.

I don't attempt to hold back my moans. My body reacts to every movement as Lando fills me. It's like he was made for me, we fit together perfectly. His movements are deliberate and slow, I know he's holding back wanting this to last but I need him to let go.

"You feel so good baby"

I want nothing more than to dig my nails into Lando's back but my current position doesn't allow for that. My hands are flat on the bench desperate for something to grab onto and I pull the closest thing to me into my hands which just happens to be a tea towel.

Trying to match Lando's speed with my hips I feel the tension in my body building. I know I won't last much longer, every touch is bringing me closer to the peak of the much needed climax. My back arches as Lando pulls my body up by my hair causing me to scream out his name in pleasure as he thrusts deeper keeping the same rhythm going.

Hearing Lando's moans so close to my ear as he lets himself go is enough to send me over the edge. I've never been one to find it attractive when a man lets out moans of pleasure but there's something about the sounds that come from Lando that are like music to my ears. Letting myself go limp I lean against the kitchen bench supported by Lando as we both regain our composure.

"I love you so much my girl. You're perfect" his voice is soft as he pulls me into his arms placing a soft kiss to the top of my head "you're the one for me" Still basking in the afterglow, there are only three little words that need to come out of my mouth.

"I love you" wrapping my arms around Lando's neck I pull him into my arms. He might be taller than me but I love holding him in my arms.

"I think we might need to order food in. I can't cook but even I know that carbonara looks ruined" as we both get dressed I take one look at the pan on the hob and know there's no fixing it.

"Yeah we're definitely ordering in. I have a question" I say as I start clearing away the ruined food.

"What is it?" Lando asks and I can tell he's confused.

"After all of the months I've been coming to see you at home, why is today the first time you've bent me over the kitchen bench like that?"

"I have no idea but I can tell you now that's not going to be the last time because that was fucking incredible"

"I hoped you'd say that" seeing my phone start ringing next to me I see a FaceTime call from Liv "hold on it's Liv. Hiya!"

"You okay?"

"Yeah I'm good. You look amazing by the way! This whole being pregnant thing has suited you so much!" I don't think I've ever seen Liv glow this much before.

"Thank you. Is Lando home?" Liv asks and I see Max join her on the sofa.

"Look at his face! He's just had sex!" Max shouts as Lando comes into view on the camera next to me "that man is always exhausted when he comes home from a long haul flight, there's no way he'd usually still be awake let alone smiling!"

"All I'm saying is that it's been a long two weeks" Lando says with a shrug as he rests his arm around my shoulder.

"My innocent ears!" Liv practically screams at us unable to hold back her laugh "anyway we've got something to show you both, I had to wait until I knew Lando was home to ring you"

"What is it?" I ask confused what Liv needs to show me from her sofa for Lando to have to be here as well. As the camera is flipped I'm met with the sleeping face of a newborn baby. Liv and Max's baby. I let out the most high pitched screech in shock that my best friend actually has her baby in her arms "Oh my god! What the actual fuck! Oh my god"

"You two kept that quiet! Congratulations to you both and congrats on leaving Lu speechless" Lando says looking at the baby on the screen in front of us.

"I can't believe he's here! I'm so happy" feeling the tears roll down my cheeks I can't believe the happiness I feel for Liv and Max.

"Lucía don't cry or you'll set me off!" Liv warns through the phone. I have to get home to see her.

"I'm just so happy Liv" feeling Lando pull me into his arms I try to stop myself crying "does he have a name?"

"Yeah he does, meet your nephew Rafe Bradley Fewtrell" Liv says as she rests baby Rafe on her chest to snuggle him in. All I can say is that she looks content, there's no other way to describe it "he was born early yesterday morning but we wanted to tell you both together when we knew Lando would be home"

"Thank you. I'm pleased you've told us together because now I'm just going to cry at Lando about how perfect he is. I'm going to come home and see you both is that okay?" I ask not wanting to intrude when there's a newborn involved.

"Lucía you're welcome any time. If you'd both been home I would've had you visiting us in hospital or I would've at least invited you over when we got home. You're my sister, I'd let you visit anytime, no invite required" as we end the call I promise to get home in the next few days to see Liv and so Lando can see Max. I've never wanted to get to England so quickly.

"Lando..."

"I'm already on it. We can fly tomorrow afternoon" Lando says cutting me off knowing exactly what I'm going to ask. This is why he's so perfect, he can read me without me having to say anything.

The next day we arrive at Liv's house straight from the airport. I don't want to hang around, I need to see Liv to make sure she's okay and to meet baby Rafe.

"Hiya!" I say walking into the house knowing exactly where I'll find Liv. We have the kind of relationship where we don't have to knock when we get to each other's house, it's practically a home from home for both of us I think she'd be offended if I knocked. "Hi Max. I know I've made this all about Liv and Rafe but I'm happy for you. You'll be a good dad" I say hugging Max as I see him sat on the sofa.

"I appreciate that but I get it. Your friendship with Liv is special" Max stands up to greet Lando and I leave them to it as I sit next to Liv cuddling her.

"I'm so proud of you Liv. I don't think words will ever be enough. You're going to be such a good mum and Rafe is going to be so loved"

"Love you Luc" as Liv rests her head on my shoulder I listen as she tells the story of Rafe's birth and how her world instantly changed the second he was in her arms "you can hold him you know. I can't be bothered to stand up but you're more than welcome to get him out of the crib for a cuddle. I know you're desperate to"

"I am but I'm also here for you. You're my best friend and my priority was talking to you first" standing up I look into the crib where Rafe is swaddled in a blanket. He's truly beautiful, I know everyone says baby's are cute but he genuinely is the cutest baby I've ever seen. Taking him in my arms I feel an instant rush of love. It's like something clicks in my brain and I know I'll love this little boy like he's my own and I'll do anything to protect him.

"It suits you having a baby. I don't think it'll be long until you two have one of your own"

"Maybe one day but we're too selfish right now. We're just enjoying each other and honestly? I don't want to share him" I feel like because of the time Lando and I spend apart, I have to appreciate every second I get with him and selfish as it may be I want them moments to myself for as long as I can.

"Right Lu, I love you baby but it's uncle Lando's turn for a cuddle" Lando says walking into the living room with Max trailing behind. I try to huff and protest as Lando takes Rafe from me not wanting to let him go but it doesn't work.

"Luc will you help me get ready? I fancy going for a walk. I'm sick of being inside after spending all weekend in hospital" agreeing to help Liv we make our way to her bedroom where I French plait her hair and do her make up. She's capable of doing it herself but there's something about having it done for you that makes life easier.

"I'm not going to lie Liv seeing Lando holding Rafe has made me feel so broody"

"Why do you think I said it won't be long until it's you two with a baby. Honestly I thought I loved Max until I saw Rafe in his arms for the first time. That's a whole new level of love that hits like a ton of bricks" listening to Liv talking about Max I don't actually think I could love Lando any more than I do without combusting.

"I'm not saying never, I'm just saying not yet. We've already said we're both not ready and want to wait a few years and I'm happy with that. I'll just enjoy being an auntie first" my relationship with Lando may have taken off quicker than a formula one car in pole position but I'm happy with where we are now. We're in love and we're happy that's all that matters.

esmelucia

Liked by maxfewtrell, livdavies and 43,198 others

esmelucia we take aunite and uncle duties very seriously landonorris. Rafe Bradley Fewtrell you're my favourite human, I will love and protect you always 👶🏻 🩵

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user43 you and Lando would have the cutest family

↪️ landonorris she'd be the biggest milf 🔥

livdavies thank you so much for today, we appreciate you so much! Rafe loves his auntie Lucía and uncle Lando 🤍

↪️ esmelucia we're here for you any time! We love him so much 🥹

user747 omg stop! uncle Lando and auntie Lucía are real!

user547 this is the best news! Imagine baby having Max’s curls!

user638 you two should definitely have a baby so it can be best friends with Rafe!

↪️ esmelucia maybe one day if that's what the universe has planned for us.

• • •

This hasn’t been proofread so there’s probably typos galore (I’ll check tomorrow night) but there’s probably only one part of this story left (😭) however my new story should be up at some point this weekend, either tomorrow or Saturday. Most likely Saturday to be completely honest .

#lando norris x oc #lando norris fanfic #lando series #lando smut #lando norris #lando #lando norris smut #formula one fanfiction #formula one smut #formula 1 #formula 1 fanfic #formula one #formula 1 smut #f1 smut #formula one fanfic #formula 1 fanfiction #f1 fanfic

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homestuckreplay · 9 months ago

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Week 1 Retrospective: Who Is John Egbert?

It’s official - Homestuck is one week old today! And while a week is not a long run for a comic, it’s already got more pages than the author’s earlier work Bard Quest, so maybe it’s something worth recognizing. So I wanted to mark a week of Homestuck by doing a deep dive on what we’ve learned about our protagonist John Egbert so far. It’s some fact collection, some wild speculation, and some ongoing questions. It’s over 3000 words, so it’s under a readmore for anyone who’s interested.

If that doesn’t sound like a fun time to you (or even if it does), you can take the John Egbert Big 5 Personality Test to see how you score on John’s five key personality traits. It’s 14 multiple choice questions, so a much quicker read.

We’re introduced to John on page 4, where we’re given five key interests of his: bad movies, programming computers, paranormal lore, amateur magic, and gaming. I’ll take these one by one and use them as a framework for John’s character so far.

“You have a passion for REALLY TERRIBLE MOVIES.”

John has eleven (11) movie posters on his walls. Of these, three star Matthew McConaughey and two star Nicolas Cage. More notably, six have a Rotten Tomatoes rating below 50%, and two of these are below 10%. I haven’t seen any of these movies, but as far as I can tell, here are the one sentence summaries [broad spoilers for all these movies].

Little Monsters: A boy befriends a monster and visits the monster world, where they try to convert him into a monster too.

Con Air: A paroled man disrupts a gang of prisoner’s escape from a prison transport plane.

Deep Impact: Earth tries to prepare for extinction after a comet is found on a collision course with Earth.

Ghostbusters II: After going out of business, the Ghostbusters reunite to combat a negative energy slime monster.

Mac and Me: A boy befriends a young alien who gets separated from his family and lost on Earth.

Contact: An Earth scientist successfully discovers alien life and travels to an alien world.

A Time to Kill: A father is acquitted in court for killing the perpetrators of racial hate crimes against his daughter.

Failure to Launch: A 35 year old man’s parents hire a woman to persuade him to finally move out of their home.

Face/Off: A terrorist and a FBI agent go through facial transplant surgery and temporarily swap identities.

Armageddon: A group of space workmen go on a mission to stop an asteroid from destroying Earth.

Ghost Dad: A man temporarily dies but is able to interact with his children in ghost form.

From this we can see that John really likes science fiction movies related to aliens, ghosts and monsters, as well as action comedy. We also know from page 21: ‘Films about impending apocalypse fascinate you’. A Time to Kill and Failure to Launch are the only ones that don’t fit his taste. The implication here is that John really loved Matthew McConaughey in Contact and so watched his other movies even though they were things he wouldn’t usually watch.

I’m curious if these movies are intended as clues to John’s character, the future of the comic, or both. In terms of his character, they make me see him as someone who’s imaginative and goofy, young and carefree, not concerned with other people’s opinions, more interested in watching movies for their surface meanings and exciting stories, maybe wants to escape to a different world, might be a little bit gay.

In terms of the future of the comic, it could be that we’re going to see literal aliens or monsters - they could even be already here, keeping John ‘homestuck’. Slime monsters are particularly highlighted, with Slimer from Ghostbusters appearing on John’s shirt and computer background, and his chumhandle, ectoBiologist, relating to slime. Slime invasion honestly feels too obvious, and anyway, several of John’s movies are about befriending a more benign supernatural force - could John’s Pesterchum friends be something other than human? Or maybe it’s a more metaphorical meaning, referring to John having a very different life to his friends?

Two of these movies feature Earth extinctions by giant space rocks, but there’s absolutely no indication of this being a real world threat John is dealing with. Again, it could refer more generally to a sudden, life changing event that’s about to happen to disrupt John’s current state, something that would fit thematically with this being John’s 13th birthday, a milestone age.

There’s also a theme of crime and the legal system in several movies, including Con Air, the one that’s been most highlighted. The most obvious interpretation of John’s dad right now is that he’s a clown or performer, but there’s an outside chance he could be in law enforcement, or a criminal. It’s even possible that he’s currently in hiding or some kind of safe house. This would explain John being ‘homestuck’ and sick of spending time with his dad.

Speaking of John’s dad, I’m concerned for him based on the Ghost Dad summary - the comic keeps teasing his presence, but we haven’t actually seen him yet. Could he be a ghost? Or become one at some point? Alternatively, we know John has an already dead relative - could his nanna be a ghost? Did John dropping her ashes release her ghost? Family is a really common theme in movies, so I don’t know if a large number of these movies being about family (especially fathers) is relevant, but I’m noting it all the same.

“You like to program computers but you are NOT VERY GOOD AT IT.”

John claims he ‘likes to program’, but it actually seems to make him angry. We first learn ‘[y]ou were never all that great with data structures and you find the concept [of the stack modus] puzzling and mildly irritating.’ We then see three files on John’s desktop, two in ^CAKE - ‘pff.^CAKE’ and ‘FUCK FUCK FUCK.^CAKE’ and one in ~ATH - ‘AAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGH.~ATH’. These tell a clear narrative of John trying to work on his programming and getting increasingly more frustrated with his attempts, until inevitably giving up. Both of the programming languages are puns, too. ^ is often called a carat (carrot cake) while ~ is a tilde (til death).

I know this is wild speculation, but… John started off coding in a harmless programming language, was already struggling, then for some reason switched over to the most ominous possible sounding language, screwed it up even worse, and now… he’s constantly haunted by the ghost of failed programming attempts in the form of his sylladex, which he appears to be new to using (he had no prior understanding of it on page 7 - although this could be handwaved due to video game tutorial logic), and which operates similarly to a computer program and seems to cause John endless frustration. He’ll have to figure out how to exploit the inventory system in ways that help him, which involves actually figuring out some stuff about coding, in order to partake in some real life ghostbusting, or monster hunting, or dealing with whatever threat he’ll have to deal with by using inventory hacks.

“You have a fondness for PARANORMAL LORE,” (...)

By far the interest of John’s that we’ve seen the least of so far, John’s love of the paranormal is mostly inferred through his movie preferences, and we don’t see any direct evidence of an interest in lore. However, I can’t stop fixating on John’s chumhandle: ectoBiologist. The comic’s first act was to draw attention to giving John a name, and for many 2009 kids, the names they go by online are more meaningful and representative of them than their real world names.

‘ecto-’ means ‘outer, outside, external’ according to dictionary.com, and it’s actually a common prefix in a variety of fields of biology, but there’s no such thing as ‘ectobiology’ as a field, or an ‘ectobiologist’ - neither term has any search results prior to Homestuck. I think it’s way more likely that this refers to ectoplasm, a term from both cell biology and spiritualism that was popularized by Ghostbusters to mean any substance secreted by a ghost, in practice often manifesting as green slime. Slimer, who we can guess is John’s favorite, is a benign ghost made of pure ectoplasm. I love the idea that John loves this dumb ghost so much that he’s memorized all the lore about them in their appearances throughout the franchise, and devised this username based on being an expert on these ghosts right down to their biology (or at least thinking he is).

The only catch is, ‘fondness for paranormal lore’ is very passive and doesn’t even imply much knowledge, much less action, while ‘biologist’ implies that John has been doing actual experiments. The idea of John trying to create a real life Slimer the same way other kids make slime in their kitchens is really entertaining, if an off the wall theory. Does ‘homestuck’ just mean John is grounded for an unethical science project?

(...) “and are an aspiring AMATEUR MAGICIAN.”

The magic chest is one of the biggest, most eye catching and most colorful objects in John’s room. We see its contents on page 8, which lean more into joke store items than things a magician might use, except for the trick handcuffs and perhaps the collapsible sword. The narration on this page states that John is neither a skilled magician nor a cunning prankster. I’m nitpicking definitions here, but everything John has done so far has been way more about pranks than about magic.

John’s uses of the magic chest to date are…

various putting things into his inventory and removing them (funny, but unintentionally)

combining fake arms with cake (p.36) out of necessity, which ‘makes the cake at least 300% more hilarious’

merging hat with beagle puss to create a clever disguise (p.45) and wearing it for 25+ pages, which he acknowledges is a ‘shitty disguise’

attaching fake arms to harlequin doll (p.65), which makes it ‘AT LEAST a million percent funnier’

All of which are definitely not magic tricks, and honestly not even pranks. Arguably John’s best and most successful prank so far has been when he pretended not to have arms for the first six pages, before revealing his arms after the interface had gone to the trouble of moving the cake off his magic chest to get him some arms.

John keeps thinking about reading Colonel Sassacre’s Guide to Magical Frivolity and Practical Japery, but always finding some excuse not to. He can’t read it until he captchalogues it, but once he does that, it gets buried in his inventory. He assumes that the book can tell him the exact percentage increase of hilarity a prank leads to, but it’s too big for him to actually look anything up.

An outside theory for this that I don’t think is likely simply because it’s so much darker than the comic has been so far, is that John loves this book, but since the incident where his nanna was killed by a copy (perhaps even this copy?) he hasn’t been able to bring himself to read it. A far more likely theory is that while John is an aspiring amateur magician, it’s more of a big idea, and he hasn’t actually done any magic yet. This also tracks with his weaksauce pranks above. And if that’s true, then it says a lot about John that he defines himself by a hobby he aspires to but doesn’t actually practice - he’s someone with big dreams and less motivation, just like his big dream of going to collect the mail from his father despite the lack of motivation that’s kept him messing around for 70 pages.

“You also like to play GAMES sometimes.”

Potentially most important of all is Gamer John. We get a list of games John likes to play from inspecting his CD tower the same way we get a list of movies from looking at his posters.

Bard Quest

The Caper Havers

Problem Sleuth

And It Don’t Stop

What Pumpkin?

Ghostbusters II MMORPG

Little Monsters (for Nintendo)

Harry Anderson: Call My Bluff!

The first five games all reference previous work by the author of Homestuck, and as such probably don’t need in depth analysis. However, the fact that within the world of Homestuck, these are all games (instead of comics) is one of several suggestions that we should think of Homestuck as a game, something that needs further analysis.

The next two games are video game adaptations of movies we know John likes, and the last is a branded video game from Harry Anderson, whose book we’ve already seen in John’s magic chest. Notably, none of these are real video games in our world either. It says a lot that John plays game versions of things he already likes (he’s put ‘countless manhours’ into this assortment of quality titles).

However, it’s undeniable that the most important game in John’s life right now is Sburb. The poster is behind his head in the first panel, placed centrally with one of the only two splashes of color in the panel. The beta release is the only thing marked on his calendar for April besides his birthday, and the Sburb logo is even the picture printed on the calendar - perhaps it’s a calendar themed around new game releases? There’s clear delight on John’s face when he thinks about getting the beta, and his quest to fetch it from the recently delivered mail is the closest thing to a story this comic has so far.

Unfortunately, we know almost nothing about Sburb, so we don’t know what it says about John that he wants to play it. It’s publicized as the Game of the Year, and according to GameBro, the game may be about houses and the player may not get to thrash anything, although these details are provided by someone who hasn’t played the game so I’m not taking them as expert opinion. It might be multiplayer - TT has been pestering TG all day about playing it with her. Maybe John just wants to share a game with his friends.

Speaking of GameBro, John can’t stand the magazine, although he for some reason has a copy on his desk. He describes the publication as ‘a joke’ to TG, and he makes the effort to take it downstairs to the fire and burn it, presumably releasing asbestos fibers into the house and causing serious lung damage to himself and his father. Does he read this because it’s the only games magazine that exists? Or did he like it just fine until now, when it trashed the game he’s excited about, and now he’s furious with it? Either way, it tracks with John’s overall fondness for critically panned media that he would be angry about contrarian critics.

–

All of this has left me with a few questions about John as our main character. These are the things that I’m keeping an eye on and trying to answer as the story continues.

What is John good at?

We hear so much about what John is bad at. He’s explicitly stated to be bad at programming, pranks, and magic. He’s bad at using his sylladex. He’s clumsy and knocked over his nanna’s ashes. He’s got bad taste in media. He’s funny but only when he doesn’t try to be, and even then he’s sometimes the butt of the joke, where the joke is how not funny John’s joke is. He was tempted to squawk like an imbecile and shit on his desk. He has like six different prankster props and he doesn’t even use all of them. I’m saying all this with love and kindness because he also just seems like such a sweet kid, but so far he doesn’t have any defined strengths or skills.

Is he going to turn out to be really good at gaming and kick ass at Sburb? Are we going to get a curveball where it turns out John is an amazing baker, and he hates the cakes in his room and the smell of Betty Crocker because he can do so much better than that packet mix? Or is he starting off from this low point so he can develop skills as time goes on?

What is John’s relationship with his dad really like?

John doesn’t want his dad to monopolize his time and feels trapped in his room, despite his dad baking cakes and leaving notes on gifts telling John he’s proud of him. John’s dad gets his son one great present that John’s really appreciative of, and one terrible present that John immediately hates. All of this feels very reasonable and normal for a teen feeling misunderstood by a parent who’s trying their best.

And then there’s the clowns.

John can excuse magical frivolity and practical japery, but he draws the line at harlequins. He’s an aspiring magician, but his dad’s figurines are ‘fucking garbage’ and his dad ‘sure can be a real cornball’. John seems like somebody who gets angry at ultimately unimportant things, like bad reviews of games, too many cakes, and harlequin figurines, but because of the subject matter it reads like an intense rivalry between two highly specific subcultures that outsiders would group together. John is really making a huge deal of needing to disguise himself and mentally prepare himself to go down and face his dad, and I want to know if there’s any genuine reason behind John’s fear, or if it’s solely the overdramatics I’m starting to think are typical of him.

Is John ‘Homestuck’?

‘Sometimes you feel like you are trapped in this room. Stuck, if you will, in a sense which possibly borders on the titular.’ (p.30)

John clearly feels like he’s stuck at home, but is this the extent of the title’s meaning? His dad has recently returned from getting groceries, so leaving the house is in theory possible. Reasons why John might be homestuck include: he’s not allowed to leave the house (for example, he’s grounded, or his dad is very controlling), he can leave the house but there’s nowhere to go (he lives near major roads, bodies of water, farms, or other obstacles, and there’s no public transport to get anywhere), or he can leave the house but it’s not safe to do so (there’s some sort of external threat, either supernatural like a monster or alien invasion, or mundane like a criminal or bomb threat). Seeing out of John’s window and into his front yard does not provide any clues; it looks like an extremely average front yard with a tree, swing and mailbox, and we know the mail was recently delivered, so there can’t be anything too world-ending happening in the neighborhood. Right now John’s goal (the Sburb Beta disc) is inside the house, so this might not get answered right away - in fact, my running theory is that the game itself might hold the answers, as its logo is a house.

What’s the differentiation between John and the narrator?

My biggest question of all, and one that probably deserves its own essay. I’m fascinated by the lines ‘In a kid's yard, a tree without a tire swing is like a proper gentleman without a monocle.’ (p.27) and ‘In a home, a FIREPLACE needs a fire, because that's what FIREPLACE is for.’ (p.50). These lines carry so much opinion, but because the narrator is constantly addressing John with the second person ‘you’, I don’t think these are John’s opinions. The narrator does have a window into John’s thoughts, so the line between them can be blurred, but there's clearly a distinction somewhere, because there have been pushbacks and disagreements between the two of them.

One theory is that John’s dad is the narrator - John’s at home a lot for whatever reason, and so the constant and overbearing presence of his dad means that he can’t get him out of his head even when he’s alone, the commands at the top of each page reflecting John’s dad’s level of control over his son’s life. But I think this question is open ended enough that I’m not willing to commit to one theory yet. After all, we ‘examine 3rd and 4th walls of [John’s] room’ which is a directly meta allusion to the comic’s audience that only really makes sense if the narrator isn’t a character in the comic itself.

–

I think John Egbert has been really well characterized so far. He feels like a real kid, one who keeps getting off track and forgetting what he should be doing, but one who it’s enough fun to get to know that I don’t really notice. While the main character in media often doesn’t end up being the most interesting character, I do want to keep an eye on John because I think he has a lot going on to analyze. Above the style and the world and the mechanics, John as a character is the aspect of the comic I’m most interested in right now.

#homestuck #john egbert #analysis #chrono

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heqvenlymoons · 9 months ago

Text

The Robbery of a Potted Plant

For Maribat March Day 16: Robbery

@maribatserver

Damian was looking forward to a weekend of having the entire manor to himself.

Dick was in Bludhaven, Tim was working in his office at WE, Jason was sleeping over at Roy’s, Cass was in Shanghai along with Steph and Barbara for a ‘girls' weekend’ or whatever it is they called it, Father was in space somewhere while Alfred was on a well-deserved and overdue vacation.

That left Damian to his own devices for what was supposed to be a peaceful weekend without his meddlesome imbecile siblings.

He had been looking forward to it and was playing video games (yes, he is capable of such activity) when the unexpected doorbell ring interrupted his solitude.

Damian set his controller down, scowling at the empty room. He knew his nosy family’s habits and routines like the back of his head, and he was sure no one would return until Sunday night.

Perhaps Alfred changed his mind and returned because he felt Damian was incapable of tending to himself. Typical of his pseudo-grandfather figure, always putting others before himself.

Or it could be Todd returning to retrieve something he had forgotten to pack earlier in the day.

Damian’s eyes narrowed when he heard the bell ring again, somehow sounding louder than the first attempt.

That wasn’t right. If it were someone from the family, they wouldn’t be ringing the doorbell.

He made his way out of the living room and, as he did, grabbed his katana from under the coffee table.

Of course, he wouldn’t put it past Todd to forget his keys, or god forbid he lost it.

Todd or not, it didn’t stop Damian from clutching the hilt of his katana and hiding it behind his back for a surprise attack.

If it was one of his family members, they could dodge his attack. If not, how unlucky of the intruder to have stumbled onto the manor’s property.

The bell rang once more just as he reached the door to crack it open.

He met with the sight of an admittedly pretty girl looking about his age, with raven pigtails, bright blue eyes that put his emerald ones to shame, and an innocent face that looked like she wouldn’t harm a fly.

His brows furrowed regarding the girl in front of him with suspicion. She could be a delusional fangirl. But he knew better than to underestimate the enemy.

He tightened his grip on the hilt of his katana, ever so ready to strike if she were to make any sudden moves.

“Who are you? How did you get past the gates?” He demanded, his voice sharp with wariness. He knew the gates were closed at all times.

He supposed she could’ve climbed over the gates, eying her short and tiny figure. Despite his deduction, he couldn’t shake off his skepticism. The girl was getting more suspicious by the minute.

A blinding smile fell across her face, and he stared.

Her smile was bright like some sunshine child, and he couldn’t have predicted the words that fell out of her mouth next. “I’m here to rob you!”

Damian swears he could see sparkles emitting from her glimmering eyes. That didn’t stop him from wanting to scoff at the pathetic attempt to rob the manor. What kind of an amateur announces a robbery?

He eyed her with a contemplating gaze, intrigued against his will. The girl didn’t look to be struggling with money or in debt.

He kept his expression blank, interested in how this interaction would play out. “Are you even qualified?”

An offended look replaced her sunny smile, and she glared at him.

He could’ve sworn he heard faint laughter coming from her purse.

“That doesn’t matter. Just, can I rob you?” the girl huffed out, looking impatient like she had somewhere to be and made the sporadic decision of committing the worst robbery attempt of the century.

Had she forgotten what city she was in? That was possible. She did have a French accent.

“Miss, this is Gotham,” he drawled, letting his katana hang on the spot behind the door with minimal effort. If the girl turned out to be a threat, his katana would still be easy to access.

She merely raised a brow in response, unimpressed. “And?”

“You don’t just ask for permission to rob someone. Do you see the Joker asking people politely if he could respectfully hold them hostage?” Damian asked dryly.

“Well, Mr. Riddler asks riddles. Scarecrow rhetorically asks people if they want to test out his new fear toxin gas. My question could as well be rhetorical,” the girl countered, looking at him like he was the crazy one.

He rolled his eyes. “Tt. Didn’t seem like it.”

“Can we make this quick? I have somewhere to be,” she said, looking annoyed.

She pushed past him, and he reacted, the katana appearing in his hand in seconds and on her neck.

What caught him off guard was she had punched him. Hard. In the solar plexus. He grunted, his katana clattering to the ground.

For someone so small, she packed quite a punch.

His hand twitched toward his katana as the girl disappeared into the manor. He should be slitting her throat for that, but he found the situation mildly amusing.

She reappeared a second later, hauling a medium-sized potted succulent.

“Of all things in the manor, you decided to rob a plant?” Damian asked in disbelief, wondering why he even cared.

Why did he intend to let the girl walk free after robbing the manor? Even if the robbery in question was something insignificant like a plant.

Was this how Father felt every time Catwomen stole? Why did it have to be a genetics thing? Damian could already hear his siblings’ teasings. They could never find out about this.

“There’s nothing wrong with plants!” she protested, holding the plant close to her chest for emphasis.

Damian should phone the GCPD. But all logic seemed to have flown out the window because instead, he said, “I will let you go just this once out of pity so you can get the taste of having successfully robbed someone. With your non-existent thieving skills, it is unlikely that you would be let off as easily the next time, let alone be successful in the operation.”

“Oh, thank you, kind sir. I’ll be taking my leave now,” the girl grumbled, albeit sarcastic.

He was coming up with a last-minute dignified plan to get her name and number without losing face when she shoved a piece of cardstock in his hands.

It was a business card for the fashion designer Drake was obsessed with, MDC. Except the pseudonym was struck out, with Marinette Dupain-Cheng replacing it on top instead, and her number was underneath where her email was.

He looked up to see the girl— Marinette, already gone.

She was fascinating, to say.

Hadn’t his family always pushed him to make more friends other than Jon?

Damian would have to conduct a thorough background check to see if Marinette would be worth befriending.

As he pondered the possibility, he couldn’t help but wonder if their possible friendship could evolve into something more.

#maribat fanfic #maribat #maribat march 2024 #maribat damian wayne #maribat marinette dupain cheng #mlb x dc #maribat crack #crack fic #oneshot #heqvenlymoons

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the-fluff-piece · 1 year ago

Note

Hiya, I’ve only just found your blog and I love your work🥰 would you mind writing a bit of a drama (i’m a drama queen🥲)? I’ve been thinking some misunderstanding like zoro being (unintentionally) popular with girls but one being extremely clingy to the point people, as well as the fem reader, think they are a couple. Female reader gets jealous and sad and Sanji comes to comfort her and Zoro sees that and gets the wrong idea and becomes jealous too. But they somehow find out the truth and blah blah romantic stuff confessions etc. I know it’s ridiculous but I live for the drama🥺 thanks in advance and i will understand if you don’t want to do it but I love ya anyway xx

Hiya dear reader,

Thank you for your kind words! I'm happy that you like my style!

I'm sorry it took so long, but I didn't want to post something unfinished XD I hope you don't mind me setting it before the time skip, I think water seven directly after enies lobby is a great location.

Drama is always good and that's a great setup - LET'S DO IT (got a little longer)

👉 masterlist stories

👉 masterlist headcanon

here's

Zoro has no fucking clue

You defeated CP9 and returned together with Robin to Water 7, where the crew got the chance to heal and relax for a few days.

Together, you really showed it to the world government! Well, mostly the big hitters in the crew. Zoro saved you when it came to fighting, not that you minded it. Whenever you were in danger, you knew that he would show up and defeat whatever marine captain or sea monster was trying to kill you.

When you got the key and released him and Usopp from the cuffs, he flashed you a heartmeltingly handsome smile and proceeded to partake in the absolutely ridiulous sword duel that destroyed half the building - and than he fought against thousands of marines.

He really deserved a break. And a thank you. You had been aimlessly wandering through the streets of water 7 to find something for Zoro, a gift to thank him. And maybe show him how much you like him.

Eventually, you decided to get him a Magnum bottle of sake, enough for his big thirst. It was something he absolutely would love.

Pleased with your purchase, you walked back to your temporary shelter in water 7- but your heart almost stopped. You were already so attuned to his appearance, that you could have picked out that green hair in any crowd - Zoro was here. And he seemed to be moving fast. Trouble? That meat head always managed to find a fight, you better help him out.

The gathering crowd slowed you down almost immediately. You squeezed through to see Zoro fighting with some guy, who was no match for the formidable swordsman.

Putting on a real show, Zoro played with the amateur, who poked helplessly at the air as Zoro effortlessly moved around the battlefield. Drinking in the "Oh!" And "Ah!" From the surrounding crowd, a cocky smile spread over his face.

With his two swords crossed, he finally attacked and struck his opponent down with one blow.

The crowd cheered - a very female sounding cheer. You noticed a lot of girls streaming to him. They clung to his arms and praised his strength- what was going on?

A girl shouted: "He got the pantie thief! He's my hero!" In a ridiculously high pitched voice and ran towards a grinning Zoro.

Pantie thief - of course. You rolled your eyes and waited for the crowd to dissipate. And you waited, and waited. One of them seemed glued to Zoro's arm, giggling and throwing her long, blonde locks around.

"Hey Zoro, let's get back to the others" you tried to get him to leave with you.

"Nah. this girl here will thank me with some booze! Just go back without me." He waved you off while the girl promised him all he could drink.

Rolling your eyes even harder, you went back to the crew at the galley-la building and informed them of Zoro's absence.

"Good riddance!" Sanji muttered past his cigarette. "Want an éclair?" He offered, almost in the same breath but with suddenly heart-shaped eyes.

"YES" you shouted, hungry for some kind of comfort after Zoro just trotted off with a blonde haired beauty.

"Stupid mosshead!" You cursed as you angrily shoved the sweet treat into your mouth.

"Yes he is, if he did anything to you I will kick that guy to the moon!" Sanji chimed in.

"No it's okay." You muttered and continued to mope for the rest of the evening.

Hardly able to sleep, you heard Zoro stumble home at dawn, throwing himself into a corner and snoring almost immediately.

You hoped that it was done with that - until the next morning. You heard Sanji shriek in delight as the door opened: "Such a sweet beautiful girl, did you come to see me, my lady?"

You didn't hear the reply clearly, but a high female voice cooed something and you heard a loud thud as Sanji's body hit the floor, an expression of total horror on his face.

The girl from yesterday pranced past you as you knelt down next to the cook.

"It's horrible..." he hoarsely whispered, seemingly near death, "she's bringing the mosshead breakfast. That beautiful lady..." his eyes closed as he sighed the last half-sentence and with it, his will to live (for the moment).

Hot jealousy surged up again. You stomped to the table, where luffy was sleep-eating heaps and Zoro gingerly unpacked a giant sandwich, seemingly made entirely out of meat.

The blonde bimbo had parked her breasts on the table and watched Zoro with a dreamy expression as he wolfed down the sandwich, splattering sauce all over the place.

"Do you like it?" She asked in a melodic voice.

"Yeah, thanks" Zoro answered with a full mouth. He seemed very content. That ass.

She didn't leave afterwards. In fact, she basically moved in immediately, either hanging on Zoro's arm or sitting close to him, watching him with heart shaped eyes and complimenting his every breath.

She eventually informed the somewhat irritated rest of the crew that her name was Silk (while throwing her silky hair around) and that she stayed with Zoro. Since she didn't actually do anything bad and Zoro didn't seem to mind, everyone accepted or ignored it.

"Come on, snookums, it's so crowded here, let's go out" Silk tugged at his arm. "I know a great liquor place!"

"Yeah why not" he lazily followed her as she maneuvered him like a tugboat.

"Snookums?" you stared after them in disbelief.

Nami, meanwhile, died of hysterical laughter.

"Didn't think that a girl could tame him that much. He's totally whipped!" she laughed and slapped your back while you didn't understand the world anymore.

The sake you bought was still in your bag, still untouched. Maybe you should bring it back to the store.

It was evening, Zoro and his girl weren't back yet. You found yourself so irritated that you couldn't sleep, just like Sanji, who sat at the table and poured himself some wine.

As you sat next to him, he silently passed you a glass as well. He somehow managed to get from perfectly coiffed, full of energy and dressed to the nines to unshaven and disheveled in the course of a day.

"I know why I am upset...but what is it with you?" You ask him.

Two bloodshot eyes stared back at you.

"I can't believe Marimo...that filthy brute, with no style and no interest in women has a...a..." The end of his sentence was too much to bear for him, instead he took a nervous gulp of wine.

"And she's so....soo...prettyyyyy" he dragged out the last word like a pre-schooler in a tantrum.

You gently tapped your glass against his: "to us" you whisper.

"To...us?" He half asked and half repeated and he smiled.

One glass turned into two glasses, and like that the bottle was gone. Your only topic: how much Zoro and that girl sucked.

A new bottle was opened, and another. Soon, you didn't find enough things to hate Zoro for anymore, so instead you moved on to different topics. Sanji told you about growing up in the restaurant while you told him a few stories of your own. After the third bottle was emptied, you were both pretty drunk, and you didn't really remember much anymore.

You drifted off to an uneasy sleep, full of Zoro how he made out with the girl named Silk. How they had children and generally shoved their happiness into your face.

"Oi, wake up. Y/n, wake up!" You heard Zoro's angry voice above you as he tapped you with his foot.

"Wha...let me sleep marimo" you answered, swiftly adopting Sanji's language and inflection.

As you opened your eyes, the swordsman's towering frame took up your entire field of vision. With his crossed arms and grumpy expression, he looked intimidating as hell.

You stretched and realized that you had slept on the floor, leaning against Sanji, amidst a lot of pillows. Sanji must have brought them during the night to make you more comfortable. Now that's a man!

When you moved, Sanji's head fell into your lap, still sleeping, and he immediately began purring like a kitten. Zoro grabbed him by the collar and shook him awake.

"What the fuck YOU think you're doing?" He bellowed at his sleepy crewmate.

"Go and have your nosebleed somewhere else, you pervy cook!" He said as he threw Sanji down again -hopefully immediately regretting it because Sanji answered with a fiery kick.

Not even 5 minutes awake and already near a fight, you decided to crawl away to safety and make some tea.

As you set down with steaming cup in hand, you spotted the blonde girl coming towards you, wearing the same clothes as yesterday. Demonstrably, she sighed and commented "what a short night" showcasing her disheveled hair with a pout.

"Uh-hu" was all you could manage.

"You are his crewmate, are you not?" she asked, "how can you live with that manly man on one boat and not fall for him?"

"Yeah, it's a mystery" you answered sourly. If she only knew that you did - and he didn't care.

She continued to talk about something, but you decided not to listen. Instead, you focused on the fight going on outside now, where Zoro and Sanji shouted insults at each other.

"You hurt her feelings! I cannot ignore that!" Sanji screamed. "FLAMBÈ SHOT!"

"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, STUPID COOK!" Zoro answered among loud clashes.

Your head was aching too much, there was too much noise. You excused yourself and went outside - away from the fight - and sat at the pier. It was calm here. Just faint noises of fighting were in the background.

You thought about how childish those two were, always fighting about something. But you were one to talk, you were childish as well. Zoro or Silk had no way of knowing that they hurt your feelings. At least Zoro deserved an open apology. And his sake.

You sighed, already playing the conversation in your head. The waves crashed against the pier, it was really calm.

Too calm.

When you returned to the building, both Zoro and Silk were gone.

Sanji was at the stove, making breakfast.

"Zoro stormed off" he said flatly. "And Silk-chan followed, of course."

They didn't return for the whole day. Dusk came and there was still no sign of them.

It got late, evening turned to night and Zoro was still gone. It was time to have a talk, to let him know how you felt, and to clarify where you both stood. You packed the sake to finally give it to him and be the friend he deserved.

You made your way through the bustling streets of Water 7 once again, aimlessly walking and hoping to find Zoro. It was a lively city with people sitting outside and laughing late into the night. You didn't see the green hair anywhere, maybe they've gone to her place.

Your feet have taken you away from the people in the streets to side alleys, where everything was calm and dark. There were lots or piers looking out to the water where crews loaded and unloaded goods.

With relief, you spotted Zoro sitting on a wooden barrel near the water's edge, alone now, with an empty bottle of sake beside him. His expression was more somber than before, and he seemed lost in thought.

Taking a deep breath, you approached him, determined to have the conversation you had been avoiding. As you got closer, Zoro looked up and met your gaze, and you could see a hint of surprise in his eyes.

"Hey," you said softly, taking a seat beside him. "Mind if we talk?"

Zoro blinked and then nodded, a serious look on his face. "Sure, what's on your mind?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat and decided to be direct. "I am really happy for you, Silk seems to really like you." You paused, unsure where to go next.

"And I hope you're happy with the cook" he snorted.

"What?" You asked, surprised.

"The cook. And you. I wouldn't have thought..." His voice trailed off and he took the bottle again. Remembering that it was already empty, he threw it into the sea with a sigh.

"That goddamn cook with his nice words..." Zoro mumbled angrily.

"I am not with Sanji, silly" you told him.

"But you slept together...! On the floor!" He stuttered.

"We just fell asleep, nothing more." You said.

"I...I'm not with Silk either." He rubbed his head, "in fact, she was kind of unnerving."

"Than why be with her for days?" You asked.

"You know, it was nice to be appreciated for once. Silk gets it. You always call me stupid or silly." He shrugged.

"You stupid mosshead, everytime I call you stupid I mean that I like your stupid!" You rummaged in your bag for the Sake, "it means that you're adorable and cute and so, so unbelievably, awesomely stupid! And I do appreciate you. You save me all the time. I bought this for you, as a thank you" You gave him the extra large bottle of Sake.

Zoro's brows furrowed as the gears started turning in his head. "I didn't realize... I mean, I didn't think...why did you never say so before?"

"Don't know. You never really cared about anything besides swords and fighting." You shrugged.

"I...I do care, I just...I'm not so good with words." He held the bottle in his hands like he didn't know what to do with it.

He swallowed and looked at you. "You know, I think you're stupid, too. Really silly. The silliest person I've ever met." He laughed and you chimed in.

You felt a rush of relief and happiness wash over you. Maybe Zoro wasn't as clueless as you had thought. Perhaps he had his own way of expressing his feelings.

"Just to be sure...stupid means I like you" He whispered and invited you to sit with him. When you hopped on the barrell, he put his arm around you.

As you sat there by the water's edge, the two of you talked late into the night, sharing stories, laughter, and sake. The noise of the world around you faded into the background as you discovered a deeper connection with Zoro, one that went beyond the chaos of battles and adventures.

And in that moment, you realized that sometimes, the most meaningful conversations happened not in grand gestures, but in the quiet moments shared between two people who cared for each other deeply.

-----

Epilogue (because I don't want to leave Silk's character as the only evil female catty villain)

Zoro and you eventually made it back to the company house and shocked everyone, first and foremost poor Sanji, with your new found closeness. It would be a long road until you could say the l-word to each other, but whatever your now relationship was, it was good.

It would still be a few days until you could sail from water 7 and you enjoyed the commodities of the city, walking through the busy streets, window shopping.

A store with beautiful cloth caught your eye and you entered. You looked at the exquisite goods when you heard a shop clerk approach "can I help you?"

"No I'm just look-AHHH" your voice and face must have derailed when you found yourself looking at an equally shocked Silk. A moment of awkward silence followed where you saw that her eyes were swollen and she looked really tired.

"Uhm, hi Silk, how are you?" You stammered.

"You know. Not so good" Silk looked unnerved. "What do you want?"

"I didn't know you worked here" you were caught off guard. But now that Zoro was with you, the anger against her seemed childish and mean.

"I'm Sorry if I was mean to you before" you said, surprising the girl, "I was unfair."

"No, don't. I was...overreacting, too. I'm sorry" She said thoughtfully. "He didn't stop talking about you. Really annoying, like he was hung up on you. That's why I was so pushy" Tears pooled in her eyes again.

Helpless, you tried to comfort her.

"Don't...he's just a stupid, stupid man" you told her.

"I know. That's why I liked him" she said, voice breaking.

You guessed that you weren't the best person to comfort her now, so you decided to leave.

"I'm Sorry. I should go now" you said.

"Yeah. Bye" She forced a smile and waved.

#one piece fanfiction #one piece x you #op zoro #roronoa zoro #zoro x female reader #zoro x you #zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #angst #one piece zoro #one piece #jealousy

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avastrasposts · 2 years ago

Text

The Pilot and his girl - ch. 12

I don't have much to say about this chapter except I hope you enjoy it! We're moving further into the TLoU world and exploring it with the guys from Triple Frontier and our reader. Word count: 6.6 k

Warnings have their own post and they contain spoilers

Chapter 13

Start from the beginning: The Pilot and his girl

You count the hours, the minutes even, throughout the day. You pack and repack your own backpack, trying to squash any thoughts about leaving without Frankie.

From the window in your living room you see less and less people. You hear helicopters in the air and your heart clenches, thinking about Frankie, what if he managed to get to a helicopter? He’s on your mind every second, every sound from inside the building makes you jump and twitch, hoping to hear him stick his keys in the lock and open the door.

A few hours after Pope leaves, someone bangs on your door, it makes you jump up from the couch and grab the gun he left you with.

“Hey, anyone in there?” You recognize the voice of your neighbor from across the hall, a middle aged man who sometimes chatted to Frankie about the army, he’d served too. You think his name is Barry. He’s nice enough and doesn’t seem dangerous but you heed Pope’s warning and stay quiet.

“Frankie, if you’re in there, I’m getting some of the people in the building together and heading out of the city. Someone heard on an amateur radio receiver that they’re going to evacuate the city and then fucking bomb it. You’d better shift yourself and your girlfriend before that happens.”

You hear the man shuffle for a bit outside the door, banging on it again, before his steps retreat down the stairs.

They’re not possibly gonna bomb the city, are they? Why would they?

You carefully go to the window and look down onto the street, trying to not be seen. After a few minutes you see a handful of people exit your building, you recognize several of your neighbors as they head down the street. All seems quiet until suddenly, just before they disappear out of view, three people run from an alley, at the group. Through the closed window you only hear a distant wail but you see all too clearly how the group breaks up as the three running people attack violently. You sink to your knees, only your eyes peering over the windowsill, as you watch in terror as the three strangers tear into two of your neighbors. The rest of the group runs flat out and disappears behind a corner, and before long, they’re followed by the three attackers too.

You sink down against the wall under the window, breathing hard. Panic is rising in your chest as your nails dig into your palms.

Please, please, Frankie, come home, I need you to come home, I need you, please, Frankie.

You close your eyes and picture his face in front of you, his dark, unruly curls under that damn near permanent cap, his warm, brown eyes, the way they crinkle at the corners when he smiles and the dimple you always want to fit your thumb into, his scruffy beard, the patches that never want to fill in. You let the image of him fill your brain as you slowly breathe in and out, willing yourself to calm down, to control the panic.

Nothing is going to get better if you panic, just breathe.

You stay there, sitting on the floor under the window, until your legs go numb and you move to the kitchen. You have no appetite but you make yourself eat a couple of sandwiches. Anything non-perishable has been packed into your hiking backpack, Frankie’s is also full of necessities for staying at the cabin for a while.

You don’t want to stop to think about what you’d do with his backpack if he doesn’t come back. Part of you isn’t sure you’d leave if Frankie doesn’t, despite what you’d promised Pope. Maybe you’d just stay here until something else happened, maybe they would bomb the city, maybe you could just die here. The very thought of going on without Frankie is too hard to phantom, you can’t see past waiting here until he comes home.

You sink down on the couch, not bothering to wash the dishes. Pope had filled up your bathtub with water but told you to only use it for drinking. He had assumed the water would be cut off the same way electricity had and he was right, you hadn’t had running water for a few hours now.

It’s morbidly funny when you think about it; yesterday afternoon you’d been doing dishes, doing laundry, cooked some food, watched tv, like nothing was amiss. Now you were on the couch, a gun in your waistband, no water, no electricity, no phone, your neighbors’ dead in the street and society seemed to be crumbling around you. It took less than twenty-four hours for your world to collapse.

At some point in the evening you almost doze off, the adrenaline’s wearing off and your body refuses to stay awake. With the last bit of energy you push the couch out from the wall a little and lie down with a pillow, hiding behind it. You figure, if someone breaks in while you’re sleeping, they won’t see you at a glance.

…

The loud crack from the door startles you awake, as you blink, trying to orient yourself, you hear heavy boots on the floor, several pairs. You freeze in place behind the couch, quietly turning your head so that you can peer underneath it. Two pairs of black combat boots walk into the living room, one pair peels off to the kitchen.

“Clear in here,” the voice of a man, “check the rest of the place.”

“Yes, sir,” comes the reply and you hear footsteps head off down the hallway towards your bedroom. You can hear doors opening, the closets wrenched open. As you listen you wonder if you should make yourself known, maybe they are evacuating people, but something makes you stay quiet. If Frankie had been here you might’ve gone with them, but not without him.

The two men retreat from your apartment, shutting the now broken door, and you hear them move up a flight of stairs. You remain hidden, listening to the sounds of your apartment building. The soldiers are moving around upstairs, at one point you hear the sharp snap of a gun being fired, and then nothing. Eventually you hear several people move down the staircase outside your apartment and downwards, your building goes silent. Carefully you stand up from behind the couch and cross to the window that looks down onto the street. The sun is just coming up, fires are still burning in the distance, creating a haze over the city. You can see armed military men standing around a school bus, and as you watch, a few people from your building are ushered onto it. The doors close and the bus drives away.

You go back to the couch, go over yours and Frankie’s backpacks again and then check the time. It’s almost eight am, Sunday morning now. If you’re going to go to the cabin, you need to make a decision soon. You pace back and forth between the kitchen and the living room, you can’t make up your mind, stay or go? If you stay, you might die, your door is broken, hanging off the hinges and it won’t be safe to sleep here tonight. Or they might actually bomb the city and you die anyway.

If you go, if by some miracle, you manage to get onto the dirt bike and get to the cabin, will you ever see Frankie again? If that’s the case…you touch upon the dark thought that’s been at the back of your mind for hours now, it burns when you glance over it.

What if you never see Frankie again?

The thought makes panic rise in your chest, like acid, it pushes up your throat and you grab hold of the edge of the kitchen counter, your fingers dig into the unyielding surface. No, that is not the way this is going to go, he’ll come here or to the cabin. He will find you again and you’ll see him when he does.

Your mind is screaming at you to stay here, where it feels safest, in yours and Frankie’s home. But a small voice at the back of your head reminds you of what Pope said, If he’s not back by Sunday morning, he’s not coming back.

The thought of Pope, going to get Lucía and getting her to safety, pushes you out of your stupor. You take a deep breath, your mind made up. If Pope gets to Lucía she will need you too, Frankie would want you to get to her too, keep her safe when Frankie can’t. Pope will look after you and you will look after Lucía for as long as you can.

You need to leave him a note, hope that he finds it, and has a way to get to the cabin. You go to your small home office, the manuscript you’d been working on neatly stacked on top of your laptop, it seems like a lifetime ago. You take a large bright post-it and stick it to the middle of the kitchen table where it can’t be missed.

P went to get L. Meet you at D’s cabin. I love you always, stay safe.

You walk back into your bedroom and rifle through your closet. You’re still in the jeans and hoodie, Frankie’s hoodie, you were in on Friday. If you’re going to leave home you need to be smart about your clothes. Hiking pants, your thermal undershirt, the hoodie, thick socks, your hiking boots, more layers stuffed into the backpack, your waterproof windbreaker on top. You close the backpack and leave it in the hall and go pick up Frankie's bag.

You hear the footsteps on the staircase as you turn back to the hall.

They're slow, deliberate, and you quietly set the backpack down again and duck behind the couch, crouching down. The hard metal of the gun digs into your back, reminding you of its presence, and you pull it out, holding it as Pope showed you.

The footsteps stop outside your front door, and through the silence of the building you hear the metallic click of a gun being cocked. Holding your breath, still crouched behind the couch, fear creeps up your spine, making your skin tingle. The quiet footsteps move into your apartment and down the hall, you hear the scuff on the floor as someone steps into the living room. They stand still for a few seconds, you try to make your heartbeat slow down, it’s so loud you’re sure they can hear it, but the unknown intruder carefully moves into the kitchen. After a beat you hear them pick up the post-it from the table, and breath out a low “Fuck.”

But you’d know that voice anywhere, you rush to stand up, “Frankie!”

He turns on the spot, his gun up and trained on you in a split second, before he lowers it and moves towards you. You scramble out from behind the couch and stumble over the coffee table, he catches you as you grab onto him, your gun falling to the floor. His arms go around you, pulling you tight, tight, to his chest and you bury your face into his jacket.

“You came, you came,” you weep into his chest as you feel his lips press against your hair, his arms are squeezing the air out of your lungs as he sobs, you can feel him shake as it rips through him.

“Always, hermosa, always,” he whimpers into your hair as you feel his hands search up and down your back. “And you waited, you shouldn’t have waited, but, fuck, I’m so happy you did.”

He presses himself against you, grabbing onto you, you can feel his fists close around your hoodie, pulling you into him as he all but folds himself around you. Your arms are wrapped around him, you’re inhaling his scent and you can hear his heart race under your ear. He moves a hand up and cradles it around the back of your head, pulling you away a little so that he can bend down and press his lips to yours, kissing you desperately as you sob against him. His lips are rough and chapped, but it’s the most welcome feeling in the world. His scruffy beard scratches against your chin, his breath is hot on your lips and you can feel the tug of his fingers as they tangle in your hair.

But you can taste salt and blood on his lips and it takes a few seconds for your brain to register the iron flavor in your mouth. When it hits you, you pull back and look up at him.

“Frankie!” you exclaim and reach up to touch his bruised and cut face and he flinches, “What happened?”

“A bus hit the truck, it flipped over and I got cut, probably by the windscreen.” He pulls you closer again, his hand around your neck, caressing your hair as you bury your face against his jacket. “I was knocked out for a few hours, I think, when I woke up it was the middle of the night and it was fucking mayhem on the streets.” You draw a deep, trembling breath, grabbing onto him tighter.

“I managed to get out of the truck and into a basement of a restaurant for cover, I hid in a fucking broom cupboard. I passed out again and woke up the next afternoon, been trying to get back to you all night.”

He sighs and you feel him rub a hand across his face, pulling off his cap, still on his head, and run a hand through his hair. “I might have a concussion too, my head is fucking killing me.”

You look up at him again, searching his eyes this time, he looks tired, wiped out, and slightly red eyed as you gently trace his face with your fingertips. He takes your hand and presses kiss to your palm before he wraps his fingers around it.

“Let me clean your cuts and get you some painkillers,” you say, bending down to pick up your gun from the floor and he lets you lead him to the bathroom and sit him down on the toilet seat, but then he wraps his arms around your middle and pulls you close again.

“Are you ok?” you hear him mumble against your chest.

“I’m a lot better now that you’re here, Frankie,” you caress his sweaty curls, “and I’m not injured.” His hands have bunched up the back of your hoodie as he tilts his head and looks up at you.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here, I should’ve fucking left work the second things started going to shit, we should’ve gotten us out of the city on Friday night.”

“How could you have known? I still don’t know what the fuck is going on, it all happened so fast,” you put the gun on the counter and wrap both hands around his soft curls and kiss his forehead, you see his eyes slip closed as you press your lips to him.

“Where did you get the gun?” he asks as you straighten up and take out the small first aid kit, the large one is packed in your backpack.

“Pope. He rang on Friday night and when I told him you weren’t home yet he decided to come here.” You gently dab some antiseptic onto the largest cut, just over his eyebrow, carefully cleaning away the dried blood, Frankie doesn’t wince, just lets you pat the cut with a cotton swab.

“He tried to get me to leave but I told him I couldn’t leave before you were back.” At this Frankie silently puts his hand on your cheek, stroking it gently while you continue to clean his cuts. “He’d looted two guns and a rifle and left me one. He’s gone to get Lucía to the cabin.”

Frankie gives a small nod, “I saw your post-it, were you about to leave, hermosa?”

You stop your cleaning and look down at him, your hand still on his face, “Pope said that if you weren’t back by Sunday morning…you probably wouldn’t come.”

“He wasn’t wrong, I almost didn’t make it,” Frankie clenches his jaw, his hand balling into a fist. “But I’ll tell you later. For now, I need to get to Lucía too, if Pope doesn’t already have her at the cabin, I’m going to get her, I have to.”

“I’m coming with you, I’m not letting you go without me,” you immediately say and Frankie nods.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight again, cariño, you’re coming with me.” He stands up and looks at his face in the mirror, he’s got three deeper cuts, two on his forehead, one on his cheek, just under his eye, that was lucky. His head fucking hurts but he takes the two painkillers you hold out and downs them with water and pushes the pain to the back of his mind. He needs to focus now.

“Ok,” he says, looking over at you, “we need to pack what we need and get out of here as fast as possible. The only problem is we have no transportation but maybe I can hot wire a car in the street.”

You dig into your pocket and pull out the keys to the dirt bike. “Pope said there were two dirt bikes in the garage, he took one and left the other for us. It’ll probably be easier to get out of the city on them.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea, the traffic was getting bad when the truck got totaled.” He walks into the living room with you behind him. “I thought I saw my backpack here, you packed it?”

“Pope did, I packed mine too,” you sit down on the couch and pull your bag over, opening it up and putting the painkillers inside. Frankie crouches down by his pack and quickly goes through it, getting up to add a few extras before closing it up again.

“Fill your big water bottle, and drink as much as you can before we leave,” he tells you. “There’s not much water between here and the cabin and we’re not stopping if we can avoid it.”

You do as you’re told and when you get back from the bathroom you find Frankie standing by the bookshelf, holding a photo of you, him and Lucía from a few months ago. You’d had it printed and framed for him and you know he has a copy of it in his locker at work too.

“Are you bringing it?” you ask in a low voice. He looks over at you and sighs.

“I’m not sure when we’ll come back here again, I thought maybe I should.” He looks back at the photo in the frame again before he flips it over and opens the back cover, sliding out the picture.

“Pope said it’s the world is falling apart, do you think he’s right?” you ask, moving over to him as he carefully puts the photo into his pack.

“I hope not, cariño, but…” he looks at you, he has a deep furrow in between his eyes, a worried look, “it’s not looking good, I saw some things I can’t explain out there, if you have something you don’t want to lose, you should probably bring it now. “

You turn and hurry back to the bedroom, quickly grabbing the picture you have on your bedside table. It’s your favorite of Frankie and you, from a BBQ at Will and Hannah’s place. Frankie’s looking at the camera with a big grin, his arm hooked around your neck, leaning into you as you press your lips to his cheek with a smile. You’d stolen his Standard Oil cap and put it backwards on your own head, Frankie’s dark curls are their usual unruly selves without the cap. You hurry back to the living room and slide it into one of the outside pockets of your bag.

Frankie’s waiting for you while you pull the zipper closed and hoist the bag onto your back. As you step forward to him, he pulls you close, his hand grabbing onto your waist. He leans his forehead against yours, and you wrap your arms around his neck as you feel his warm breath skate across your skin.

“I love you, I will always love you, no matter what happens,” he whispers.

You nod and take a deep breath, it feels like you’re savoring the last moment of calm before you step into the unknown, which you are, really.

“I love you, Frankie, I will always love you too,” you whisper back to him and he dips his head to your mouth. His lips are soft under the cracked skin, he still tastes like himself and for a second you imagine it to be just another normal Sunday morning kiss before you head out to run some errands.

But then he pulls back and takes your hand, moving towards the broken door. As he carefully pushes it open he drops your hand and takes out his gun and you do the same.

Definitely not a normal Sunday morning.

…

The apartment building seems empty as you quietly walk down the stairs with Frankie in front. He tells you to put your hand on his shoulder so that he knows you’re behind him. Your gun is in your hand, safety on, you don’t trust yourself enough to keep it off.

Frankie motions for you to stop a few feet behind him as you reach the garage door, it’s still locked. He pulls out his flashlight and keys from the side pocket of his pack, and presses the key fob to the door. The beep seems to echo through the quiet building and Frankie's waits, listening for any movement.

“Thank god for batteries,” he whispers before he cautiously presses down the handle and pushes the door open. It squeaks on its hinges and he pauses again. You see him raise his gun as he slowly moves through the open door, quickly swinging it left and right to cover both sides, holding his flashlight in the other hand.

When nothing stirs in the darkness of the garage, he motions you over to hold the door open as he moves further in. The dim light from the bottom of the stairwell illuminates a few cars and Frankie’s back as he cautiously makes his way over to where motorbikes are parked. He disappears out of view for a few seconds before you see him come back, he’s got an old motor oil canister in his hand.

“I’ll prop the door open,” he says in a low voice as he gets to you, “and we have an exit if opening the garage door doesn’t work.”

The garage door is electric, opened by pushing a button on a remote that Frankie keeps in his truck. The remote, and the truck, are obviously not here, so he plans on pushing the door up by hand, hoping the lack of electricity will make it easier to move.

You follow him through the dark garage, to the dirt bike propped up against the wall. He hangs his pack on one side, and yours on the other. “Keep your gun out, safety on, cariño,” he murmurs, before grabbing the handles of the bike and pushing it towards the garage door. You hold the bike up as he grabs the chain on the side of it and tug, sighing in relief as it glides smoothly up, only a low rattle as it opens onto the street.

“Push it up, I’ll cover you in case someone comes,” he says in a low voice, crouching down and moving up the slope to street level as you dig your feet in and push the bike. It’s slow, the bike is heavy with your bags on it but you’d rather have Frankie cover you than the other way round.

You get it onto the street and prop it up as Frankie grabs the handles and waits for you to settle on the bike. The street is empty of people and you can smell smoke in the air, not wood smoke, a more acrid scent of burning rubber and something else. Sun light streams through the haze, the many fires in the city starting to bleed together, as they burn unchecked. You can see a minivan on fire further down the street, next to where your neighbors were attacked. Their bodies aren’t there anymore.

Frankie leans in and gives you a quick kiss, “Once I start up the engine, people might come running and I’m gonna need to drive fast and dodge, so hold on to me very tight, cariño.”

Your eyes are wide and fearful as you nod, gripping tight onto his jacket as he straddles the bike in front of you. The dirt bike’s engine roars to life and you flinch, it’s horrendously loud in the silent city. You see Frankie’s eyes flick to the side view mirror and you look behind you, ice fills your veins as your heart all but stops. A stream of people are stumbling out of the alleys behind you, they’re moving with jerky movements, all focused on the noise of your bike, mouths stretched open in screams that you can’t hear over the roar of the engine.

“Hold on!” Frankie yells and you tighten your grip on him as the bike lurches forward. As you turn forward you see people coming out onto the street in front of you too, Frankie dodges left and right in quick succession to get past them and the bike flies down the street. You squeeze the seat of the bike between your legs and bury your face in Frankie’s back as the bike tilts back and forth. The wind whips around your ears, the roar drowns out any other noise and you try to only focus on Frankie in front of you, leaning your head against his broad back as you keep your eyes shut. His jacket smells of engine grease, the outdoors, the last BBQ at Will’s place. You inhale and grab it tighter.

The bike stops tilting back and forth and Frankie slows down a little bit. You carefully look up over his shoulder and see that you’re out on one of the big highways that cut through the city. It’s full of cars but the bike easily slips between them. With a sting Frankie realizes that his truck never would’ve made it through. Glad as he is that Pope thought to swipe the keys for the dirt bikes, he misses his truck, the safety of the cabin. He doesn’t think he’ll ever see it again.

The highway cuts through the city, every now and then the strange people stumble out, attracted to the noise of the bike, but he speeds up and puts them behind you. The road climbs up, an overpass over another highway, and he slows down to pass between a big eighteen wheeler and a bus at the crest of the overpass, just clearing them.

The wild looking man lurches out into the street, right in front of the bike, Frankie doesn’t even have a split second to swerves to the right, before the man’s hand flies out and grabs hold of your arm, ripping you from the bike as the bike topples over and skids over the ground. Frankie tumbles onto the asphalt, the dead man's grip stalling the engine, and the silence is deafening as he slams onto his back.

You can’t scream, the wind has been knocked out of your lungs by the force of the impact on the asphalt, and now the man is on top of you, only your arms between him and his deranged face. You fight to get your legs up under him, to kick him off, but his flailing limbs, his shoes scraping along the ground as he fights to get to you, pin you down. Your eyes are fixed on his mouth, you’re trying to scream for Frankie, but you can only take short, shallow gasps, as you see…something…move inside his mouth. Something is moving over his tongue, past his teeth, white tendrils reaching for you.

A gunshot echoes above you and the man is jerked backwards, slumping over to the side as you scramble back, grazing your hands on the rough surface. You kick him away from you, his mouth is still open and the white tendrils are still, flopping out onto the asphalt.

“Get up! Run, run!” Frankie yells behind you as you hear the screech of several people from between the bus and the eighteen wheeler. You whip your head to the noise and see four of them running for you, it takes everything in you to not freeze on the spot, Frankie’s frantic yells behind you. You scramble to your feet and run as fast as you can towards Frankie, he’s crouched behind a car, gun trained at the people behind you, the dirt bike still flat on the ground. As you get to the car he grabs your arm and throws you behind it and takes aim. Lying on the ground you watch him fire six rapid shots and the screaming stops. He holds his aim for a beat, his face focused and unblinking, then he quickly grabs you and pulls you to him. His hands grab your body, scanning you for injuries, yanking back the collar of your hoodie and running rough fingers over your skin.

“Did he bite you?” he almost yells, “Did he bite you?”

“N..n..no, I don’t think so,” you stutter as Frankie grabs your arms and pushes the sleeves up over your elbows, twisting your arms in his hands, searching the skin for any break.

“Frankie, wh..what’s going on?” your voice almost breaks, his fear is contagious as he frantically examines you.

“Get up, cariño, we need to keep going. More are on the way.” He pulls you to your feet and over to the bike, picking it up and quickly making sure your bags are secure. You get on and he swings himself up in front of you. The engine roars to life again, you wrap your arms around him and hang on as the bike speeds up.

Your hands are shaking as you lock them around Frankie’s waist, the adrenaline that coursed through you after the attack is giving way to shock and as Frankie speeds through the city you start to feel the pain where your body hit the ground. Your hands are throbbing, stinging from where they scraped across the asphalt, you’re sure you have a bump on your head and on the outside of your thigh there’s a welt growing. You desperately want to be back in your apartment, curled up in bed with Frankie, on Friday morning, before all this. You bury your nose in his jacket and swallow down a sob.

Frankie is more cautious after the crash, his heart is thumping as he swerves back and forth between obstacles, slowing down to scan for people. He sees them running towards the bike in the distance but soon loses them as he hits the main highway. He wants to stop, pull her off the bike and assess her injuries more carefully. Hold her tight and tell her he won’t fuck up like that again, that he’s trying to figure out how to combat what ever is happening to people.

The man over her, her silent fight to keep him off her, he swallows back the groan that forces itself up his throat, he could’ve lost her right there, not even out of the city. He tightens his grip on the handlebars; keep her safe, get to cabin, get Lucía if Pope doesn’t already have her.

Keep them safe.

…

As they leave the city there are less people, forty five minutes out into the open countryside, you haven’t encountered anyone since the suburbs. That’s until Frankie spots the makeshift roadblock up ahead, two nervous looking soldiers up front. As Frankie slows down they train their rifles on both of you, and he angles the bike so that his body covers yours. He turns his head and looks at you over his shoulder.

“Keep your head down, cariño. If they shoot, throw yourself behind the car on the right.”

You give him a quick nod and make yourself as small as possible behind him.

“Halt!” one of the soldiers yell, Frankie can see the single chevron on his arm, a private, green as can be by the look of his baby face and nervous grip on the rifle. Frankie stops the bike right by the car, about a hundred feet from the soldiers. The road block has hastily been erected, a big truck across the road, cars on either side, but they have gaps between them enough for the bike to easily slip through.

“Get off the bike!” the other soldier yells as Frankie and you come to a full stop, “Turn off the engine and get off the bike!”. He’s a private too, and looks just as green.

“We just wanna pass, we’re heading to our house,” Frankie yells.

“Get off the bike!” The first soldier calls back and you see him aim down his rifle at Frankie.

“We have orders to shoot anyone infected and you look infected,” the second soldier snarls, “get off the fucking bike and toss the keys.”

“Infected?” Frankie says, “What do you mean infected? Is that what those crazy people are?”

“Just get off the fucking bike,” the solider yells, raising his rifle too, “Final warning!”

“Get off the bike,” Frankie says to you in a low voice, “Get off slowly and get behind the car, crouch when I start shooting.”

“Frankie..” you whisper and he nudges you, “Do as I say, cariño, get off.”

You reluctantly obey and carefully swing your leg over the seat of the bike, stepping behind the car. He glances over at you, making sure you’re behind cover, before he slowly moves his hand as if he’s pulling back to get off. As he swings his leg over the bike he pulls his gun from behind his back and fires. You drop down behind the car as the soldiers' rifles rattle to life but it’s over in a few seconds, Frankie’s shots don’t miss, theirs go wide.

“Get on, fast,” he grabs your arm and pulls you up and you swing yourself onto the bike again, behind Frankie. The two soldiers are sprawled on the ground, blood pooling around them both, as Frankie revs the engine. Suddenly you hear two men yell, and you both turn to see two more soldiers sprint out from behind the big truck.

“Hold on!” he yells at you and gives the bike full throttle, the tires of the bike spinning as you clutch him tight. The sharp noise of gunshots zip around you as Frankie aims for between two of the cars, barreling through them and the sharp inhuman cry from the strange people, infected, goes up from somewhere behind you.

You hear the gunfire but it’s no longer directed at you, as you throw a quick glance over your shoulder, you see a large group of the infected, launch themselves at the two soldiers. The noise of the engine drowns out the sound but you see their screams as they’re overrun.

You turn back and press yourself against Frankie’s back, he weaves between the cars, finding a gap and leaves the highway. Crossing over a field, aiming for the mountains in the distance.

…

You’ve left the highway far behind you, bee lining for the cabin across as much open country as you can, avoiding farms and towns. You’re almost there when smoke starts to rise from the bike. Frankie hastily stops the bike and kills the engine as you both get off. You quickly pull your backpacks away from the smoke as he inspects the bike.

“Fuck, it got shot, a bullet through the engine block,” he points to the hole where smoke is pouring out, it’s less now that the engine is off. “Better it, than us though,” he sighs, looking over at your taut face. Your eyes are rimmed with worry and dark circles, your mouth, usually so quick to smile when he looks at you, is pulled tight with tension as you stare at him. It breaks his heart to see you so scared and he takes your hand in his, trying to give you some comfort.

“What do we do, Frankie?” you ask in a quiet voice, eyes drifting to the remains of the bike.

“We hike, we’re about two hours on foot away,” he points up the trail you’d been on with the bike, a sparse forest around you. “This trail connects with the trail that leads up to the waterfall, we’ll come down the back way to the cabin.” He hoists his backpack up and you copy him, settling it on your back.

“I really hope Pope is there with Lucía, and Will and Benny too,” you mumble, as he takes your hand again, his gun in the other, and starts walking up the trail.

“Yeah, me too, cariño, I sure as fuck hope they all got out.”

The hike is quiet, no people, no infected. The trees give you shade even though the late September sun isn’t very warm. You stop along the way to drink and fill your water bottles, the ice cold water in the stream reminding you of your trip to the waterfall on the Fourth of July. It seems surreal that the world, where a trip like that was possible, could crumble in all but twenty four hours. You have so many questions to ask of Frankie but he’s on high alert, his eyes swinging back and forth through the trees, his grip on your hand tight, you daren’t say anything until he seems to sense your mood and looks over at you.

“We’re almost there, hermosa,” he stops and puts his hand on your cheek, “are you tired?”

“Yeah, but probably no worse than you,” you lean into his touch, closing your eyes briefly.

“We’ll rest and take stock at the cabin, sleep there tonight before we decide on our next move, try to figure out what the hell is happening too.” His thumb strokes across your cheek, brushing over your bottom lip and for a moment his eyes soften, his face turning into that warm, sweet smile you’ve always loved him for. It’s only for a moment, something rustles the leaves above you and his gaze snaps up, on high alert again.

“Let’s keep moving,” he says, taking your hand again and moving down the trail.

….

It takes another half an hour for you to reach the cabin but as you approach, you wince, there are no cars or trucks parked up front, no dirt bike either. But as you get closer you can see the tracks from one at least, a sign that Pope has been here.

Frankie approaches slowly, telling you to hang back, hiding behind a tree. Nervously you watch him approach the porch and the front door. He slowly pushes down the handle, finding it locked. There’s a key box hidden under the porch, a code needed to open it, and Frankie quickly puts it in and finds the front door key inside.

Quietly he unlocks the door and motions for you to come to him. You walk across the grass as silently as you can, Frankie’s finger is over his lips. Motioning for you to wait by the door, your gun out, Frankie carefully ventures inside. He moves through the familiar surroundings, checking the kitchen and the three bedrooms before coming back to you.

“It’s empty, no one is here,” he sighs. “No sign of anyone else.”

Chapter 13

Taglist: @pimosworld @i-own-loki @casa-boiardi @littlenosoul @stormseyer @mxtokko @javicstories

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