#like i didn't even have anything in my stomach it's not like i had binged or whatever

[lith-myathar]

disordered eating talk in the tags

[sceletaflores]

no logan actually has me in a chokehold, all I can think of is him being away for a mission but you’re so needy for him that you grab one of his flannels and ball it up and shove it in between your legs and then basically humping it to get off, and maybe he comes back early from said mission and you don’t hear him come in so he’s just watching you for a while before he’s had enough and decides to take matters into his own hands, btw love your writing keep up the good work!!💕💕

nat’s note: i read this and immediately had to put my phone down and walk away to breathe for a second. your mind is so beautiful anon, thanks a bunch for sharing! hope you love it <333

|| feat. logan howlett x fem!reader || 18+ SMUT MDNI ||

Six days is a long time.

Six days without Logan is almost unbearable.

The first three days were fine, nice even. You had the whole house to yourself, free to sprawl out on the couch and binge watch the guilty pleasure shows he always makes fun of.

The quiet was a welcome change—you could really relax, could sit with your thoughts.

Then day four rolled around, and things changed.

You started to notice the little things—the leather jacket he left slung over the back of the dining room table chair, the way the bed felt too big without him, how cold you were at night without him plastered to your back.

By day five, the quiet wasn’t soothing anymore; it felt empty.

You missed the sound of his voice, missed his scent melded in the sheets of your bed, missed the warmth of his body next to yours.

And by day six? Well, six days without Logan wasn’t just lonely anymore—it was a special kind of torture.

It wasn’t just the emotional closeness or the comfort of his presence you longed for—it was the rough scrape of his stubble on your skin, the way his body pressed into yours, heavy and demanding. The way his voice dropped when he growled your name, hands gripping your hips with a possessive edge that sent shivers down your spine.

You didn’t just miss him, you craved him.

It was settling in an unbearable ache, low in your stomach. A constant thrum that served as a reminder of just how much you missed his touch.

You didn't realize just how spoiled he'd gotten you. You haven't gone a day without at least four orgasms all year. Logan made sure of that, enforces it like it's a house rule he'd die before breaking.

You’d gotten too used to the feel of his hands roaming over your body, the way his lips traveled from your mouth down to the space between your thighs, the way his cock brushes against that special spot inside you each time he slides home in your pussy.

Your body longed for him in a way that made it almost impossible to focus on anything else. Every thought seemed to circle back to Logan, to what it would feel like to have him here, right now.

The worst part—no amount of toys or creative use of your hands was enough to soothe that ache. It didn’t matter how many times you tried to satisfy yourself; nothing worked.

The frustration was unbearable.

You blame that for your lapse in judgement when you made your way into your shared closet.

It was completely innocent at first, just you looking for something to wear to bed.

You only happened to trip over a shirt Logan must have left strewn across the floor before leaving. One of his favorites, a worn down brown and red flannel you'd seen him in countless times.

Before you even registered what you were doing, you bent down and scooped it up, burying your face in it. His scent—earthy, woodsy, and unmistakably him—hit you like a freight train as heat began to pool between your legs.

Suddenly, it was like Logan was there, surrounding you completely, teasing you with his absence. The ache deepened, twisting into something even more unbearable.

It was almost too much. That raw desire you’d been trying to hold at bay snapped its leash, and suddenly, the thought of going to bed wasn’t even an option.

You were already soaking wet by the time you made it to bed, greedy lungfuls of Logan's scent enough to get you there in no time.

The flannel was warm in your hands, the roughed up fabric felt oddly comforting against your fingertips and the skin of your cheeks.

As you settled onto the mattress, a thought crept in. Wicked and indulgent in a way that made your ears burn with shame and your stomach swirl with heady arousal that fanned the fire raging between your legs.

Before you could stop yourself, you slid your panties off, your body already tingling with anticipation

You pulled the shirt between your legs, pressing it against your dripping core, the familiar scent wrapping around you like a vice.

You moaned at the feeling, the first rush of relief flowing through you like water through a desert. The friction, the smell, it was almost like he was in bed with you, touching you, guiding your movements. But no matter how nice it felt, it still wasn’t enough.

The ache was only just lessened, the thrum of need was still there, undeniable and persistent.

With a whine, you leaned back on the bed, knees bent, legs spread wide, and you started to rock your hips against the fabric. Every movement sent delicious waves of pleasure through you, but it wasn’t the same. Not quite. You needed more—needed him.

Your fingers gripped the flannel tighter, dragging it harder against your aching clit. Eyes squeezing shut, you let out a desperate moan, hips working so fast the bed frame started thumping against the wall in a steady rhythm.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the fantasy of him—of him under you, of his hands gripping your thighs, pulling you closer. His voice low and gravelly as he whispered filthy things in your ear.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, and you were so lost in your thoughts, so caught up in the moment, that you didn’t even hear the front door open.

Didn’t hear the heavy footsteps making their way through the house, getting closer and closer.

But when the door to the bedroom creaked open, your eyes shot wide, and there he was.

Logan, home a day early.

He’s stood in the doorway. His sharp gaze locked on you, jaw clenched tight. His eyes darkened, filled with lust and something else—something dangerous.

Your heart pounds frantically in your chest, but your body refused to stop moving, hips still grinding slowly against his flannel as if they have a mind of their own.

You expect him to say something, to scold you, maybe—but instead, a slow, dirty smirk spread across his face.

Without breaking eye contact, he crosses the room, shedding his leather jacket with a deliberate slowness as he does. He drops into the chair sitting in the corner of your bedroom, legs spread wide as he leaned back, watching you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

"I didn't say to slow down," he growls, the edge in his voice making your stomach flip. "Keep going, baby. Show me how much you missed me.”

The command in his voice was irresistible. Your body responding before your mind could even catch up, hips rolling against the flannel faster again, a soft whimper slipping from your lips. The friction feels even better knowing he’s watching, eyes dark and heavy with desire as he sees you fall apart.

"Logan, please" you gasp, hips moving faster.

"Please what, darlin'?" he hums.

"I don't- ah! Anything, please," you rush out, eyes glued to the obscene spread of his legs, where his strong thighs stretch the thick denim taught.

Logan shakes his head with a dark chuckle. "No, you wanna get yourself off without me you do it. Can't have your cake and eat it too, baby."

You whine, high and loud as tears burn at your waterline, threatening to spill down your cheeks. "I can't," you sob, voice tiny and pitiful in the quiet of the room.

"Don't be like that, princess," he chastises, clicking his tongue at you disapprovingly. "Know you can come just like this. Bet that pussy's been drippin' for days, huh?"

You nod pitifully, biting down on your lip as your legs starting trembling on either side of the balled up shirt.

“Fuck, look at you,” he growls, voice dripping with lust. “So needy you couldn’t even wait for me, huh? You missed my cock that bad?”

You nod again breathless, the pressure building between your thighs becoming unbearable as his words wash over you.

“Bet you were thinkin’ about me, weren't you?” His voice drops, rich and syrupy, and it crawls over your skin like a slow burn. “All this time, wishing it was me between your legs instead of that fucking shirt.”

Your movements grow more frantic, eyes dropping to his lap, zeroing in on where his thick cock presses against his thigh, tenting his jeans lewdly. Your mouth waters, lips dropping open with a quiet moan as you imagine him slipping between them, fucking your throat and making your jaw ache.

“Such a dirty little thing,” he purrs, his voice sending shivers down your spine. “You like putting on a show for me, don’t you? Gettin' off starin' at my cock while you fuck yourself with my shirt? Goddamn, I can see how fuckin' soaked you are from here.”

The flannel was soaked now, wet and clinging to your folds as you desperately rub yourself against it, your body trembling with need. Every roll of your hips makes you more desperate, more sensitive, pleasure coiling tight in your belly and almost ready to snap.

Your moans grow louder, filling the room as you chase your release, the rough fabric of his flannel dragging against your swollen clit in all the right ways. Logan watching you—making you do this—had you teetering on the edge, your breath coming out in sharp pants.

His voice was a constant stream of filth, each word sending shock waves of pleasure straight to your core.

“Atta' girl, that's it,” he rasps, his voice rough and commanding. “Come for me. Drench that shirt, baby. Make a mess of it. I’ll fuck you right after, promise.”

You were teetering on the edge, your whole body trembling with need as you rock against the flannel harder, faster, desperate for release.

"Come on, baby," he goads, leaning forward in his chair, eyes burning with something feral as he licks his lips. "If you get it nice and dirty for me, I'll wear it for you."

That was all it took. The thought of Logan walking around in his shirt after this, the fabric soaked with your essence, staking your claim on him, has you coming.

Your body shudders violently as waves of pleasure crash through you, pulling you under. Your back arches off the bed, hips jerking erratically against the flannel as you cry out his name, hot tears spilling freely down your cheeks.

Logan growls in satisfaction, eyes locked on you, watching as you tremble and gasp through the aftershocks. He stands from the chair, slow and deliberate, stalking toward the bed with a dark gleam in his eyes as his hands drop to his belt.

“Good girl,” he rumbles, voice thick with desire as he climbs onto the bed, caging you in with his body. His lips brush your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Now it’s my turn, baby. And I ain’t even close to done with you yet.”

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

a/n: wow this really got away from me lmao...it was not supposed to be so long ANDDD sorry for the low-key fade to black ending but I had no idea how to end this heheh okay bye love you!

[ethansluvbot]

riding ethan for the first time please!!! love your writing btw<3

CRUEL SUMMER | SUB!ETHAN LANDRY

warnings: adult content, spoilers?, rough sex, riding, unprotected sex, and smut :)

an: i just got really sick randomly? anyways, i'm so so sorry for not posting in awhile. i just started a new school and even though its the end of the year its stressful. it also didn't help that i had horrible writers block. also, I've never written smut before so i will get better at this eventually! i'm binge watching the harry potter movies while eating soup now lol.

with a ton of convincing from sam, ethan and tara you decided to volunteer for a summer camp. sure, spending you day with kids had its downs, but you enjoyed seeing ethan interact with kids.

the kids screams filled your ears as you run to pick up their messes. the sticky hair didn't help your anxiety at all. you sat next to sam with your head on her shoulder.

"how did you convince me to do this shit?"

a quick slap hit your shoulder as you let out a yelp, "no cursing, there's kids around. plus you could never say no to ethan, it looks like he's enjoying it."

"i know. he's been going on about this since january.," you know ethan was a total soft guy, he never would harm a soul. it took him awhile but he finally convinced you to help out.

you both heard footsteps approach you, a sigh came out as you saw his shoes. immediately you jump up and wrap your arms around his neck.

"thank god you're here to save me from sam, she's trying to make me actually do something." he let out a chuckle as he waved to sam.

"im here to take you away," he smirked as you smiled back at sam. you heard her softly gagging beginning to walk away.

"hey! i missed you today, it seemed like you were having fun with your cabin."

"i was! i actually taught a kid how to swim today." you grabbed on to his hand. you loved this side of ethan the soft, dorky and funny side of him to be exact.

"umm, i was wondering where you see us in the future? i know we have a little until we finish college but it's been on my mind."

"well, to be exact i see us in well paying jobs, a modern family home and hopefully kids of our own." you felt his mood shift with that. you might've not been the most kid involved person, but it was great to know you would consider the idea.

you both stepped into the cabin immediately grabbing pajamas. you felt ethans shattered breath at your neck. turning around you slinked your arms around his torso.

"can i help you?"

"god- i want to kiss you so bad right now."

you gave in to ethans innocent act, attaching both of your lips. his cold hands found his way up your back as you moaned in surprise. he hummed in pleasure, kissing down your stomach.

you flip the two of you over, "i wanted to try something new if that's fine?"

he nodded intently, he trusted you with his life and knew you wouldn't do anything to hurt either of you. he's desperate to finally get you undressed as he tugs at your pants.

"someones needy," you tease unbuttoning your jean shorts. his hands explored your body, undoing your bra and throwing it to the side. ethan was already undressed by the time you turned around.

"lay down."

he threw his head back as you pushed yourself down onto his cock. you put your hand over his mouth being careful not to arouse any suspicion.

"will you be a good boy and be quiet?" he hummed in response, "words baby."

"yes, ill be good," he let a muffeled whined out.

you let your nails scratch down his abs as you begin to move. his fingers begin to trace circles on your clit as you bounce. you were still adjusting to his size but since ethan was so eager you began to move.

"don't stop," he lets an exaggerated sigh come out of his mouth. you grab his chin making him look at you. he keeps his hands on your hips as you trail kisses down his neck.

you rested your hands on his chest helping him move you. even without him speaking he could tell he enjoyed this greatly. you felt his hand kneed at your ass.

looking down you see his glossy eyes look up at you, "aw, poor baby. are you not getting enough attention."

you were almost using him for your own pleasure, which you felt bad but, oh did it feel so good. he was getting anxious as you felt him squirming.

you felt him thrust into you a few more times. you could feel his tenseness, only meaning that he was reaching his high. leaning down you planted a kiss onto his lips.

"oh fuck- i love you."

[lurkingshan]

Japanese QL Corner

In which I cling to the last vestiges of two of my favorite shows of the year, write a eulogy for one of the most disappointing, and rejoice over the entry of a new fav. These shows are available for weekly streaming on Gaga unless otherwise noted.

Mr. Mitsuya's Planned Feeding

Farewell to a wonderful show. @isaksbestpillow has posted all seven episodes as of last week, so if you've been waiting for a binge, now is your chance. I already said a lot about why I loved this one, so I'll just use this space to urge you again to watch! This show is a goddamn delight.

Takara's Treasure

The main narrative ended last week, but this week we got a sweet little epilogue and one more visit with Takara and Taishin. I enjoyed the brief glimpse into their near future and getting to see Taishin turn 20 with his very first fuzzy navel, though I was a bit sad we got a repeat of the finale's themes rather than treading new ground for their relationship (I could not have cared less about the fujoshi writing RPF). This was a lovely show and I will miss these characters.

Happy of the End

CWs: Assault, child abandonment, child molestation, childhood sexual slavery, dubcon (including between the main characters), human trafficking, rape, sexual coercion and exploitation, suicidal ideation/possible attempt, unsafe S&M practices, violence

A very rough week for this show in terms of the content--please mind the triggers above because these are explicit depictions and it can be hard to stomach. I am waiting to see where this show is going with its themes before I make a final judgment, but watching the fourth episode in particular, some parts felt like crossing the line into gratuitous trauma porn that provided little additional illumination. We'll see how it shakes out in the end, but please take care with this one. I continue to find the characters and relationship dynamics compelling, and I am invested in Haoren and Chihiro's attempt to have a relationship despite the metric ton of baggage they are shouldering between them. Neither is equipped to even have any idea what a healthy relationship looks like, but they see something in each other and they want to try. That tiny bit of hopeful but likely doomed thinking may be all we have to cling to in this story.

I Hear the Sunspot

Sigh. I am sad about what this show could have been. For me, the finale definitely did not succeed at sticking the landing and making the last six weeks of wheel spinning feel worth it, and this show is going down as one of the big disappointments of the year for me. As you know if you've been keeping up with this weekly post, I loved the first half of this show, and Taichi's original characterization, so much. And I don't understand what happened here. The second half has felt like a completely different, confused, demonstrably worse show. Taichi hasn't felt like himself in weeks, the plots with Maya and the job at Sign were poorly grounded, inconsistently executed, and offered little pay off either thematically or in terms of character development, and the romance writing was a complete failure. It was actually painful to see Kohei run after Taichi and confess to him again, and the directing and editing of that sequence was so muddled that I had no idea what I was supposed to understand about Taichi's emotional journey or why this was the moment he was suddenly able to reciprocate. After all that brooding and his big speech about communication, he did not communicate much of anything to Kohei in the end. And I'm supposed to be content with leaving them here? Deeply unsatisfying on just about every level.

I understand from @twig-tea that while the story followed the beats of the manga's first two volumes at a high level, this production chose to remove many of the contextual details that actually made sense of the characters' behavior. It also seems they didn't understand they were setting up character arcs that did not get resolved until a later volume the show will not cover, thus ensuring the story would end at the wrong place. Just a baffling set of adaptation choices, and so much wasted potential. It's a shame.

Love is Like a Poison

But at least we have a new favorite coming in hot a week sooner than expected! I absolutely loved this first episode, in which we meet Shiba, our cold-hearted lawyer with delusions of grandeur and a sexually charged fixation on his house plants, and Haruto, our flirty scammer who has his number. This show is really well written and packed a ton of story, comedy, and deep characterization into its first episode. It's a promising start! For now it’s only available grey outside of Japan; I am hoping it will get picked up for proper international distribution soon.

Tagging @bengiyo to add this week's anime update.

[vashs-turtleneck]

Hi! How are you? I hope you are doing well <3 I binge-read all of you trigun fics and i loved them, so i wanted to request something too!

How about a Vash x reader where the reader sleeps on him? Vash is listening to them ramble about something and then boom, they fall asleep on him bc hes warm. <3

Omg my first request. I'm so honoured, and I'm so happy to hear you enjoyed my other fics!! I'm sorry this took so long to complete. It was a busy couple weeks for me, but I hope you like it!

Also this ended up being way longer than I thought it would.

Quiet Nights.

Rating: T Summary: After a less than stellar day, Vash can't seem to get out of his own head. Luckily, he has you. Pairing: Vash the Stampede x Reader Content: pining, angst, fluff. Word Count: 2.7k

It's quiet.

Galaxies paint the skies above him, his thoughts accompanied only by the sound of the wind blowing, the crackling of the fire, and the subtle discomfort of the rock he's leaning on pressing into his spine.

Quiet, but not peaceful.

Not for Vash.

Never for the humanoid typhoon.

His head is in turmoil, recollecting all his sins and keeping him from sleep. All the venom spat his way as the last town cursed the walking disaster, forcing you both out without so much as a chance to breathe, with bullets hitting the ground at your heels as you ran.

He deserved it. Every last word. Every last bullet shell. He knows he did, but you didn't.

He glances down at you, snuggled up so comfortably in your sleeping bag. Now you look awfully peaceful, your face barely peeking out from under the covers, letting him see the fine cut you got on your cheek as a result of today's troubles.

If he had been faster.

If he had been more vigilant.

If you weren't with him.

You'd be safer without him.

He's overthinking again.

Or is he?

Damn it, what's right anymore?

Keeping you around, is it wrong? This selfishness he lets himself indulge in with your presence, it must be wrong. But how can it be when it feels so right, when having you by his side makes his chest swell with a warmth that makes him feel like he's found a home?

Absent-mindedly, his warm hand reaches for you. He can see you. He can see the peaceful rise and fall of your chest. You're right there, but he has to remind himself that you're real. 

You're okay, he has to tell himself. You're alive.

But just as his thumb is about to carefully swipe over the scrape on your cheek, your pretty eyes flutter open. You look right at him, and Vash freezes.

“Eep!” The typhoon squeaks out in surprise and pulls his hand away. “S-Sorry! I wasn't doing anything weird, I promise!”

“That makes it sound like you were absolutely doing something weird," you tease back oh so sweetly.

“I promise I wasn't.” He says with a pout, looking away from you.

“Can't sleep, Vash?”

He shakes his head.

“Just thinking.”

“Well, that's no good. You always let that pretty head fill with such stupid thoughts.”

‘Pretty.’

Well you sure know how to get him to blush. He tries to shake off this feeling you give him and swallow down the butterflies fluttering in his stomach, taking a few calming breaths before he speaks again.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you.”

“It's alright. I wasn't asleep.”

Vash turns back to you, his head tilting questioningly. 

“Hmm? Why not?” He asks, and he hopes that your head isn't filling with the same thoughts as his.

“I try to stay up if I know you're awake.”

And you must see the confusion on his face, because you answer his question without him needing to ask. 

“Gotta keep my eyes peeled if I wanna make sure you're not running off again.” You chuckle, yet your words hit him like sandsteamer.

Oh.

He can't really argue with you there. Hell, even just now, he was considering it. Part of him wants to reassure you that he won't leave, but he also doesn't want to lie to you. If it came down to choosing between keeping you safe and never seeing you again, he'd be gone in a heartbeat, no matter how much it would rip him to shreds inside.

He cherishes your presence.

When you came into his life, things became just a little bit more lively. Sure, his routine stayed mostly the same; it's not like there's all that many options for how to live his life when he's always on the run, but now he has someone else to share it with. You eat with him, walk with him, and when the double dollars are short and you have to settle for spending the night out under the open sky, you're right there, laying next to him in your own little sleeping bag. He can have a conversation with you as the two of you travel between towns. He can tell you about the stars in the night sky on nights like these, and help point out the constellations draped over your heads.

He's not alone anymore.

He cherishes you, no matter how selfish that may be.

He'd much rather not have to leave you, if he's being completely honest.

“Well,” Vash cuts the somewhat uncomfortable silence between the two of you. “If neither of us are gonna sleep, wanna look at the stars with me, mayfly?”

He sees how your eyes sparkle, and you sit yourself up in your sleeping bag, shuffling yourself closer to him. He leans against you and points up towards the stars, and your gaze follows his index finger. 

“Right there. Those ones over there make the shape of a four-pronged fork.”

The side of his face is dangerously close to yours, but you seem too immersed in the sky to notice. Thank goodness for that, or else you might have noticed his cheeks heating up.

“You see it?”

You must be able to see it. You're looking right a-

“I don't see it.”

“H-huh?”

“I have no clue what you're pointing at.”

“Whu- What do you mean?! You're looking right at it!” Vash says, his tone playfully exasperated, and it has you giggling so softly that he has to swallow those butterflies back down.

It takes him a moment to realize he's smiling too, watching you fondly as you try to compose yourself. Surely he's not that funny?

As he sees you refocusing on the stars, a harsh gust of wind passes through, striking the flames of the fire and forcing you to retreat back into your sleeping bag with a subtle shiver that Vash notices all too quickly.

“You cold, mayfly?” Though he doesn't have to ask. He can see it by the way your shoulders tremble.

“Maybe just a bit.”

“You could come closer, if you want. I have plenty of body heat to spare.” He tries to say nonchalantly, tapping at the space in front of him.

‘Closer.’

Closer would be nice.

And to his surprise (and secretly to his delight), you come much closer. You scuttle out of your sleeping bag and carefully situate yourself in front of him, sitting on the ground between his legs and leaning your back against his chest like he's some chair. You tuck the top of your head beneath his chin, an all too close position, but he's definitely not complaining. He only hopes you don't feel his heart hammering in his chest right now, but at least like this you can't see how his cheeks hue a deep scarlet.

You're so close.

Deep breaths.

“Better?”

“Mhm. Much better.” You hum, tucking yourself against him, his body and jacket sheltering you from the wind. “Now where is it again?”

“There,” He says as he points up towards the constellation again. "Do you see it now? If you look up from the tip of my finger, you can see how those stars make the shape of a fork."

"It still just looks like a bunch of pretty splotches to me."

"Mayfly!"

You giggle far too sweetly at his reaction, so purely that it almost eases the unrest in his heart. So carefree, so lighthearted.

Do you not care that you got hurt? Are you so oblivious to the danger he puts you through?

Do you not hate him for it?

Long lanky legs stretch out to your sides, your back pressed to his broad chest. It's easy to forget just how big he is when he hides his frame beneath this jacket of his, how well he hides just how strong he is. This jacket hides the body of something inhuman, a natural disaster, as people call him. Right now though, this jacket is keeping you covered and warm. 

His marred body is keeping you warm.

“I'm sorry, mayfly.”

“Hmm?” You hum, tilting your head back slightly to look at him and giving him a close view of your pretty eyes. 

“Your cheek. I'm sorry. It's my fault you got hurt.”

He hesitantly reaches for your face again, and when he sees you're not pulling away, his calloused thumb gently brushes along the scuff on your soft cheek, his touch lingering for just a moment longer than friendly.

Warm.

“It's not your fault, Vash. It was all just some stupid misunderstanding and we got caught in the middle of it.”

“Still,” He whispers, and even he can hear the sadness in his own voice despite his attempt to stifle it. “You'd be safer without me.”

You sigh. That same casual sigh you do when he's eaten so many doughnuts that he's given himself a tummy ache, like you're fed up with his silly everyday antics.

“It's like I said– Pretty head, stupid thoughts.” You tell him, turning forward once more and resting your head under his chin again.

“Right here,” You say, playfully tapping the knee he has resting against your side. “This is the safest place I can be, Vash.”

Safe.

Do you really feel that way?

“You're comfy, you know.” You say soundly, and it nearly has Vash choking on his own spit.

“M-Me?!” He blurts.

“I don't see anyone else here,” You snicker. “Very warm too. You weren't kidding about having body heat to spare.”

“I- well I- Uh…” He stumbles over his own words. He doesn't know what to say to something so kind right now, and strangely… intimate. Those butterflies aren’t going down easily. 

“Those ones look like you.” You chime, your hand pointing up at the sky.

“Huh? The stars?”

“Yeah, right there. Do you see? That's your spikey hair, and right under is your little mole.”

“How do you see that but not a fork?”

“Don't know, but if I can't see the regular constellations, I might as well make my own.”

Making up your own constellations. How cute.

He's not stupid. He knows you're doing this on purpose, trying to get his mind off whatever is bothering him, but that's just like you. In his mind, you shine brighter than the stars. His guiding light, something to bring him back down to No Man's Land when he gets lost in the maze inside his head.

“That one looks like Kuroneko.” You gush, pointing elsewhere.

“Who?” He says, trying to follow the direction of your finger. Maybe seeing pictures in the stars is harder than he gave you credit for.

“Don't worry about it.” You chuckle, letting your hand fall back down.

“Well that one looks like a doughnut with sprinkles.”

“You would see that.”

“And that one looks like a slice of cake.”

“Is your sweet tooth acting up?”

“...Maybe.”

“We'll get some sweets in the next town then.”

“Mmh. That'd be nice.”

Shared laughter fills the air surrounding the two of you, followed by silence.

Comfortable silence.

His mind is quieter now, no longer buzzing with unanswerable questions, regrets, and ‘what ifs’.

Peaceful.

Because of you.

After a few minutes of silently looking up at the galaxies hanging up high, he breaks the calm air between the two of you.

“Thank you, mayfly.” He whispers, not missing the way his voice trembles ever so slightly.

“I get stuck in my own head sometimes. I-I guess a lot of the time, really. It's… nice to have someone around to help me out of it.”

He clears his throat, trying to get rid of that shakiness in his voice.

“W-Well– y’know– not just someone. You're not just someone. You're one of a kind. Special.”

His heart is hammering in his chest, he can feel it drumming behind his ears. He doesn't want to promise you anything. He doesn't make promises, but if he can just try to express to you how badly he needs you around, then maybe…

“You're, um– you're very precious to me, mayfly. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else right now. Not without you, anyway.”

Oh no. You're not saying anything. Was that too much?

“Ha ha… S-Sorry, didn't mean to bring down the mood.”

God, his heart is pounding. If you didn't already hear it before, there's no way you can't hear it now. 

Another few moments of silence pass, and he can't take it anymore. Vash gulps and looks down at you, worried to see the expression on your face, scared he took this too far, but when he does gaze down, you're wearing the most peaceful expression he's ever seen.

You're asleep, nuzzled up against him. Not only that, but you're asleep first, despite what you said earlier. Actually asleep too, he judges based on how deeply you're breathing.

Guess he can't run off if you're keeping him in place.

‘You're comfy.’

Is he really? These hands stained with blood, this body tattered in scars, this unchanged face that he's worn for over a century, this name that has the power to strike fear in the hearts of all. Yet here you are, leaning into him, asleep, vulnerable, and completely trusting of him.

You must be crazy. Don't you know he's the humanoid typhoon?

He's holding you close. A tad too close for what he would consider friendly, but despite the heat he feels rising to his cheeks, he doesn't want to pull away.

His limbs wrap tightly around you, pressing you into his chest, his head leaning slightly against your shoulder until your hair tickles his nose, like he wants to melt into you. Shyly, he takes in the scent of you. That smell that is so inherently you. Just the feeling of you so close to him, grounding him, quieting the thoughts in his head.

‘You're here. You're okay. You're alive.’ He tells himself.

Warm. 

Soft. 

Safe.

Home.

Truth be told, he could never bring himself to leave. He'd have to be pried away from  you, and even then, his hands would cling to you until his nails were cracked and bloody. If he was being honest with himself, you've got him by the heart.

Maybe he'll let himself be selfish. 

‘Maybe just for tonight.’ He promises himself, though even he knows that's a lie.

✧ ✧ ✧

Morning comes all too quickly, the suns managing to shine down directly onto you. You groan, bringing a hand to your face to rub the sleep from your eyes. You shift your body to stretch, yet you feel yourself held in place, and look down at your waist to see what it is.

A pair of arms wrapped around your middle, one cooler than the other, but both just as comforting and inviting.

This isn't your sleeping bag. It's far too comfortable, and definitely warmer than that dusty old thing.

“Mayfly.” 

The sweet word tickles the shell of your ear, whispered out so softly that it sends a spark of electricity coursing through you.

You lean your head back to look at the source of that sweet sound, letting yourself fall deeper into that comfortable, inviting embrace that you don't ever want to leave, your eyes falling to what, or rather who, is behind you.

Golden hair rivaling the rays of sun shining down on you, eyes like the clear blue sky above, and an alluring warmth that feels like home.

He smiles down at you when your eyes meet, a genuine smile that shows off those cute dimples. You've never seen them from so close.

“Good morni-”

“WHAAAGH!” You cut him off with scream, not expecting to wake up snuggled up so close on your outlaw companion’s chest.

In your surprise, you completely knock your head into his pretty face. He swiftly brings his hand up, groaning, feeling the bit of blood starting to trickle from his nose.

Yeah, okay. He should have known you'd be surprised to see him so close. Maybe he had that coming.

“Oh god! I'm so sorry! I just- I wasn't- I was a bit startled, is all. I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm so sorry, Vash.”

“Ehe… I'm fine. Don't worry about it.”

Maybe that's what he gets for letting himself be so selfish.

Though if that's the price he has to pay, he'll gladly let you break his nose every day if it means he gets to hold you that close.

divider.

[thewertsearch]

Ask Comp 17/7

@shelbybunny asked: a note most people havent noticed from my observations: kanaya tied eridans cape around her stomach wound

Kanaya absorbs the fashion sense of anyone she slays. She's basically a goth Kirby.

@deshah asked: I have caught up on reading your live blog just as you reach one of my favorite action sequences! Kanaya is brilliant and I am so excited that you are reaching this point in her story. On an Aradia note: I think that you should listen to '(kind of) still alive' and 'Almost There' Aradia version (in that order) because feels. You have motivated me to listen to homestuck parodies again. Not to mention revisit my (many, many) homestuck crossovers… Thanks for the liveblog, it is so much fun! Also i saw your recommendation list was missing hemostuck which is just such a shame. I think it constitutes spoilers? Although it is very AU. That one is by roachpatrol and urbanAnchorite on ao3. Also! Space Bro by JumpingJackFlash, also on ao3 (definitely spoilers) there's even a song about that one! I hope these are okay to send? I'm not 100% on the etiquette. Anonymous asked: howdy wert! dunno if you answer stuff on this blog still but I figured it wasn't fit for the main one -- in your long break, did you check out any of the various media recommended to you? :0 (<- totally didn't recommend something and definitely isn't now wondering if you read/liked it, unlikely as it may be with the long list of recs)

I've added them all to the list! Feel free to recommend anything else, too - but I probably won't get to any Homestuck fics for a long time, since they're a bit of a spoiler minefield.

So far, the only recommendation I've followed up on was Hollow Knight - and I'm glad I did. I've played it, like, three times now. If your own recommendation isn't a Homestuck fic, let me know!

@segfaultvicta asked: i just found your liveblog and I've been doing nothing but reading it since. i have no idea if it's complete, if it's stalled out somewhere, or if it's ongoing, or when it started; i have deliberately kept all of this information from myself, i just hope that regardless of anything else your asks are still on so i can tell you how absolutely fucking MAGNIFICENT your analysis is and how much of a joy it's been to read. bravo. <3 @segfaultvicta asked: there are so many things that you're correctly understanding, or at least digging into at the right level and with the correct approach vector, that it took me MONTHS of puzzling out and later information to grok, and i'm good at this kind of nonsense. it's WILDLY impressive even if/when you are barking up the wrong cosmic apple tree. this liveblog continues to be an utter delight.

Hell yeah. Welcome to the show!

It's a great motivator, knowing that there are people having this much fun with the blog. Sometimes, on quiet days, I'll notice my notification counter is ticking up by a couple of notes a minute or so - and 90% of the time, that means someone's just discovered the blog, and they're binging the whole thing.

That's so cool, I don't even have the words! I look up to binge-worthy livebloggers!

Anonymous asked: Vriska really do be the kinda person who's like "I love a woman who can kick my ass." She probably only saw Kanaya as a potential matesprit after she proved herself powerful. Before that, she likely didn't view her as one because she saw her more like a harmless 'mcfussy fangs'.

You could have had it all, Vriska - if you'd only turned to look at her.

Truly, you are your own worst enemy.

Anonymous asked: I'd like to just adress the fact that Eridan, the troll who had 'aspirations' of killing every troll below him on the hemospectrum, only permanently killed the SINGLE troll that was above him on the hemospectrum. Good job, Ampora! ~DJ @manorinthewoods asked: It's comical how pathetic Eridan was. He seems to have power but it's always immensely fragile. Pathetic in life, pathetic in death, pathetic in ancestry. It's no surprise that his final step in the dance is to be sawed in two to prove Kanaya means business. ~LOSS (20/6/24)

Dude took more Ls than a Countdown contestant. Seeing Feferi confront him in the Bubbles is sure to be cathartic, and I, for one, cannot wait.

@manorinthewoods asked: Who the hek coded Trollian. ~LOSS (2/7/24)

That's Sahlee's endgame, naturally. My fic will be as self-fulfilling as Homestuck proper.

@bladekindeyewear asked: Quote you: "You Want An Auspistice? Then I’ll Give Your Legs Some Space From Your FUCKING TORSO" Funnily enough, on Andrew Hussie's ask blog back then, he ALSO jokingly described this well-justified murder as Kanaya auspisticizing between Eridan's upper and lower torso, after forcibly auspisticizing her way through the rest of the showdown members. "Putting Space between them" is a nice added pun of you though!

Hehe. I didn't originally intend to make an Aspect pun, but I noticed after I'd written it, and decided to leave it in.

Anonymous asked: "If the Bubbles do preserve doomed souls, then we might also run into […] the Jade he couldn’t save. That’s a pair of ghosts I’d be very interested to meet." Are we sure a doomed Incipisphere would have resulted in a doomed timeline on Earth for Jade to die in? Dave and Rose said as soon as John went off to die, they never heard from Jade OR THE TROLLS again. Karkat told John during ectobiology that Earth was a divorced temporal context from the kids' game outside of chat/timing convenience.

Yeah, I think there's a decent chance of that. It was weird that the stranded Future Jade never tried to contact her co-players, and one of the simplest answers was that she'd simply stopped existing. I live in hope, though!

@elkian asked: A really interesting thing I've noticed about Homestuck (lampshaded by Hussie's commentary) is how often the perspective switches away from fights, usually so smoothly or jokingly it's not obvious. I've heard the Hobbit/LotR books do something similar. We don't see Bro die, his opponent becomes unkillable by him and he's dead a few pages later. The Trolls' Black King, the Guardians' deaths, etc. It's a very interesting narrative choice. @elkian asked: belated followup to last ask ig - not sure what the given reason was but I think Hussie avoids showing us fights with foregone conclusions unless there's a good story reason. We know the trolls beat their BK before we even met all the trolls (and obscuring that fight lets Hussie pull fun things like the Bard of Rage reveal). Vriska vs Tavros was never in his favor, but it meant something for their character development so we saw it, etc.

Yeah, I really liked how this was done with Bro, specifically.

Cutting away from this confrontation highlighted how completely pointless it would be to depict it. We all know what happened here, and seeing it happen would give us no new information. Bro, like any mortal, was instantly one-tapped.

Besides - we saw the end of that fight.

It ended right here.

Anonymous asked: its funny how dd, the character associated with diamonds, is textually implied to be jack’s moirail ‘lousy dignitary, keeping your murderous tendencies in check’ Anonymous asked: I feel like you probably noticed this and just didn't say anything, but it's still so hilarious to me how clear it is that Andrew Hussie knew exactly what he was doing showing us the walkie-talkie scene just now with DD and his diamond card suit symbol "keeping [Jack's] murderous impulses in check"!

Damn, I actually didn't pick up on that. It's consistent with the rest of the Crew, though - Hearts is a romantic shipper, and Slick is all about hate. It seems CD is destined to become a mediator.

@mhafanlol2000 asked: What do you think LE looks like?

Occam's Razor would suggest he's a Felt creature - but since Jade would be 'terrified' by his true name, I suspect he's actually someone we've already heard of. After all, Jade would have no reason to be terrified of a name she doesn't recognize.

Anonymous asked: what if sburb is modded minecraft

tired: joining the wertsearch gigasession wired: joining the wertsearch minecraft server

Anonymous asked: Oh yeah we've all be there, I remember one time I got really obsessed with tinkercraft, not cause of the actual crafting system, but because of the furnace, and decided I Must build a furnace from bedroom to build height and fill it up

Update: I've built two nuclear reactors so far, for fusion and fission respectively. Between them, they produce a gargantuan amount of power, but that's only secondary to their main function - namely, antimatter production. Once I get that sorted out, we'll be, like, 5% of the way to the AllTheMods Star, which will finally allow me to make Creative Mode items.

Then we're starting on the Gregstar. If you don't know about the Gregstar, you don't want to know about the Gregstar.

[joels-shitty-puns]

The Key To Your Heart - Track 4

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Musician!Reader

Gif by:@sh214

Series Summary: After writing your feelings for Pedro into a song, it gains a lot more popularity than expected. Ultimately it brings both criticism and support, with new possibilities around the corner.

*! New warnings will be listed first !*

Series Warnings: 18+ only (MDNI). Mentions of food, weight loss, weight gain, dieting, weighing, potential eating disorder, food guilt. Potential for puns/dad jokes (name of my blog, and the fic) should give that away. This is my first fic which should be its own warning, lol. Also some cursing. Mentions of masturbation (f) maybe more smut later idk. Sadness, reader is pretty depressed. Poor body image. Rude people. Bullying-ish and just lack of support? Anxiety. Age gap! Reader is in her mid 20's, Pedro is current age (48).

Other stuff: Reader is plus sized. AFAB. Inexperienced. Also has a dog, but you can pretend it is another creature probably. Further, in case it isn't clear, italics almost always are the reader's inner thoughts!

Word Count: ~2.3K

Series List: Here!

Miss last chapter? Here!

Hi there! To those of you who have read and are still with me, THANK YOU! I love you all. I'm sorry that my chapters are taking longer and longer. Work has been a bit more hectic lately and I also just had some serious writer's block with this chapter. That being said, it feels a little rough and I apologize if its awful lol. But either way, thanks for hanging in there with me and please let me know what you think! Your comments make me happy!

__________

You groaned, stepping out of bed and drifting towards the bathroom. Your face was sticky and your eyes stung from crying late into the night. It was silly, naive, and frankly stupid… but sometimes you can't control how hard emotions hit. Seeing that Pedro didn't actually watch your video was a let down - to put it mildly. Obviously he's a popular guy. A star. He has better things to do.

You should be grateful he even responded to your Instagram message before. Even though it hurts, surely he has more interesting things to do than message someone like you. Just because you wrote a song and he said he liked it doesn't mean he owes you anything more.

So after a fitful night's sleep, you were utterly exhausted; physically, mentally, and emotionally. Luckily, it was still your weekend and you could rest today. 

More like spend the day wallowing in your self pity… you think, disdainfully at yourself.

Looking in the mirror, you notice your puffy eyes. There's some new acne, and a mop of frizzy hair on your head. After using the toilet, you step on your bathroom scale before your shower; a morning routine you started during years of dieting. Another 3 pounds. Up again?!

You look in the mirror, pinching your stomach with a sigh. I guess I shouldn't have had those cookies yesterday…

The food guilt creeps up as you think of the goodies you've eaten recently. Cookies yesterday, fast food the day before. You were bitter that you weren't one of those people that could just magically eat whatever they wanted without gaining an ounce. 

But you aren't, and you should know better. 

Frustrated with your appearance, you begin your usual internal debate about how to fix it.

Maybe I should go back on the diet…

But the diet caused you so many problems. Remember the stomach issues? The hunger? The lack of joy? Binge eating on cheat days until you were sick?

But! I lost so much weight!

Yeah, until you started gaining weight…

Maybe I didn't cut enough. People said I looked so good. I was *almost* skinny.

Maybe people would like me more if I was skinny… Maybe Pedro would like me if I were skinny. There's no way he would be with me looking like this.

These were the debates that plagued you for months… years… a lifetime.

You showered, tears beginning to flow again as you tried to push out the thoughts. He was probably just busy, but either way you knew you didn't have a chance. 

Your friends were right. You were an obsessed fan. It was… concerning, as they said. They pitied you when you felt sad about your feelings. Just find someone you actually have a chance with, they pushed. Someone real.

But... he did message you. Maybe he didn't even know you had an interview yesterday? Maybe he watched it later. You were being utterly ridiculous. It didn't matter anyway.

But what you didn't know was that Pedro felt just as disappointed. He wanted to be the one on your list. The one you loved. He went to bed just as mopey as you did and woke up just the same.

_____

Having washed away your bad feelings as best as you could, you gave Skipper a kiss on his little forehead and made some coffee while scrolling Instagram. You were nervous to see what people had to say about your interview, but you had to face the music eventually.

As you could have predicted, people were running through the potential suspects (or prospects, that is) who have brown curly hair and brown eyes. Some supported you and loved your interview. Others criticized you for being too chicken to show yourself. 

You weren't used to this level of attention, and you really weren't sure you enjoyed it. But you were grateful to have your two lives kept separate, your true persona still shaded in privacy.

What you did not predict, was a notification popping up from Pedro, interrupting your scrolling. Forgetting to breathe, you immediately clicked on it. If the message were food from the oven, you would've burnt your hand the way you grabbed it so fast. 

Perhaps I should've been a little more chill about opening this so quickly... Oh well.

Pedro Pascal messaged you: "Hey! I watched your interview yesterday. You did fantastic. I know fame is new to you and you're nervous, but you're a natural."

Your heart swelled. He did watch it!! He must have just been busy during the live stream.

You replied: "Pedro! You watched it!?! Thank you so much. That really means a lot to me."

Pedro read your message immediately, but instead of sharing in your level of excitement, he was hit with a wave of confusion instead. She must just be trying to not hurt my feelings. She already knows I watched it.. unless she didn't even notice my name. Or she didn't care enough to look for it…?

He decided to play along with it anyway. "Absolutely, I did. I've had it marked on my calendar since the day it was announced a couple days ago and watched it as it was streamed live."

His response took you by surprise, and then made you angry. If he really watched it, he would know that they gave you a list of the people who watched it live. Why was he lying to you about it?

You started to plan out your response, maybe even send an accusatory comeback, but then you thought about it again.

Why would he lie about it? What would he gain by lying? He messaged you.

With this in mind, you instead chose to take a different approach. One better designed for fishing. One you had to be very careful about, so as not to reveal the fact that you looked for his name.

"Wait!? You watched it live? I didn't see you on the list. You're one of the few people I've spoken to who actually seem genuinely friendly and interested in having a conversation with me. I had sort of hoped you were listening."

There. That doesn't sound too revealing, right? Totally friendly…

Pedro opened your message and was met with both confusion, and something else he wasn't expecting. Hope. Did you look for his name??

Still, he wanted to address the confusion. "You didn't see me on the list? That's odd.. but I'm sure there were a lot of names to scan through. Maybe my name was just buried in that list."

You knew it wasn't buried. He was the only name you looked for. The only name you cared about seeing on that list, not that you'd admit that to him right now. But you also didn't want him to feel that insignificant either.

"There were a lot of names, I'll give you that. But I swear you weren't there. Were you logged into your account? Maybe your Internet crashed, or you missed part of it?"

Instantly he remembered the ten or so minutes that Oscar interrupted him. 

Oscar!

"Oh shit! That's it. Oscar barged into my house while I was watching it and I slammed my laptop closed."

"Oscar… Isaac? Wait, why did you slam your laptop closed?"

"Yeah, that's the one. And… I don't know. He just surprised me, I guess. It wasn't a planned visit."

Slamming your laptop closed is an odd reaction to your friend visiting, but okay, you thought.

"So you closed your laptop, and missed a few minutes. And that must have been the moment they pulled the list of viewers."

Pedro replied. "It must have. But I was there, more than happy to listen to what you had to say"

If my name had been on the list, would her answer have been different? When asked whether the man she loved was on the list and she said no, would my name have changed anything? Pedro wanted to ask you these questions. But he couldn't. Not only was he scared, but he also didn't want it to come off as some douchey comment that made you uncomfortable. He wanted to get to know you better, even if just as a friend, and he wouldn't let a silly little crush ruin that.

You sent a response that could be deemed as friendly or neutral, still cautious. "Thank you Pedro. I'm really glad you watched it."

He replied without hesitancy. "Of course. But, I am sorry that your guy wasn't on that list."

He sounds genuine. Not like he's fishing for information like everyone else on the internet. In turn, you decide to be playful with your response. Risky, but still not too revealing. "It's okay. It turns out that list wasn't as accurate as I once thought it was" you typed with a smirk.

"So maybe he was watching after all," Pedro answered.

"Maybe he was."

Pedro soon changed the subject, "I did enjoy hearing about your favorite things, though. You may know this already, but I love movies. Some of the ones you mentioned are a couple of my favorites as well. But as for your favorite books, I haven't read them, but I've been meaning to find a new book to read."

The fact that he was a reader made your heart flutter; the thought of him sitting with a book, his glasses perched on his nose, brow furrowed as he stroked his thumb over his lip in deep concentration. You were overjoyed at the thought of him reading *your* favorite book and potentially having someone to talk to about it. Before you knew it, you had frantically sent multiple excited messages.

You: "Oh! If you read any of my favorite books we HAVE to talk about them!"

Second message: "AGH the first book I mentioned is my favorite, out of all of them. The ending blew my mind. And the characters were just so amazing! Well except for that one guy.. but I won't spoil that…"

Third message: "But my favorite character has the greatest lines!!! Sometimes I like to quote it but nobody else gets it. And the way the author describes the settings is so magical, it makes you want to be there."

Pedro caught himself smiling at his phone, wrapped up in your excitement, as you were finally able to talk to someone about your favorite book. It was adorable how happy you seemed.

He started to type a reply when you sent another message. "Shoot… I'm sorry. I got a little too carried away…"

"Who told you that?"

Huh?

"Who told me what?" You asked.

"Who made you feel like you had to stop talking when you became excited about your interests?"

His question took you aback, but your mind struggled to pinpoint the answer to it. There's been so many people that have told you that over the years. People you assumed were friends. An old crush who didn't like multiple text messages at once. Classmates who would complain or make fun. It was routine.

"Oh. It's not a big deal. It's just something I've heard over the years. But I also know how I get and I don't want to be too much. I'm sorry. I don't want to monopolize the conversation too much either. But hey, you didn't mention, what are your favorite books?" You tried to change the topic.

Pedro felt that protective feeling bubble up in his chest again.

"Over the years!? There have been multiple occasions?" Pedro shook his head, even though you couldn't see through the text. "I'm sorry anyone ever made you feel that way or said anything to imply that your interests weren't worthy of being heard. Fuck them. They should be thankful that you shared your interests."

They should be grateful to hear your beautiful voice get so excited. To get to see your excitement and smile, Pedro thought to himself angrily. He hoped he could someday witness you getting excited over your interests in person too.

"Thank you Pedro. But really, it's okay. I know I get a little… obsessive and crazy, especially with sending multiple texts, so I don't blame them. Haha. :)" you tried to soften the mood.

"I don't want you to ever feel that way with me. I liked hearing you talk about your interests."

You began to type, but Pedro beat you to the punch.

"In fact… if you'd like to talk more," he gave you his phone number. "Feel free to text me, or you can call me too. I like talking on the phone, but I know not everyone does."

Holy shit. Is this real life? Did Pedro Pascal just give me his phone number? And ask me to call him?

Truthfully, your introverted self really didn't like talking on the phone. But the idea of talking to Pedro, hearing his voice on the other end of your phone was too much to handle.

What you didn't realize, was that Pedro wanted it just as bad.

Your fingers danced over your phone keyboard, trying to find the right words for a reply. What do you say when the love of your life (that you didn't think you would ever have a chance with) gives you his phone number?

Pedro watched anxiously as the three dot-dot-dots of typing appeared and disappeared over and over. His heart was racing, and he began to worry he may have overstepped this time. 

Why did you give her your number? She's going to think you like her!!! 

But you do like her, you idiot, Pedro berated himself.

He ran his hand down his face, waiting for your response in agonizing suspense. But instead of hearing the pop of a notification, his phone began to ring instead, an unknown number displayed on the home screen.

Wait… is that her? Is she CALLING me?!

He answered frantically, practically dropping his phone in the process. 

"Hello?"

"Hello? Pedro? It's me.."

You heard him give a breathless laugh before answering with a gentle "Hi."

_____

Thank you for reading!! Let me know your thoughts :) More will be coming soon. I know this is a painfully slow burn lol. Thanks for being patient.

Next chapter! Here

_____

Taglist: (Want in? Let me know!)

@pedrotonin @starcrossed02 @lightupsketchersperson @cartoon-garbage04 @tyferbebe @maryfanson @gwendibley84 @faithfullyyours2000 @brilliantopposite187 @hc-geralt-23 @jenniferpendragon

[volklana]

I Could Drown Myself In Someone Like You

Part Two

Read Part I Here:

You can find my other Biker!Bucky fic here:

Title Comes from this Song:

Request: Hey girl I literally just found your blog and when I tell you I BINGED your Ride series. Please I beg could we have some more Biker Bucky? Maybe barmaid reader? I really don't mind as long as we get some BikerBuck!

Warnings: This chapter references past domestic abuse, and current alcohol abuse. If that isn't for you, please don't read, protect your peace and you can catch me next time xx

Amidst the carnage of  discarded clothes, tangled sheets and bruising kisses, Bucky collapsed down on top of you a panting mess and your chest heaved as you came down from your own high.

“Fuck, doll,” he sighed eventually, rolling over to pull you close to him, he ran his fingers absentmindedly up and down your arms, to ease his racing thoughts and thumping head. 

He paused all actions when his fingers landed on a large scar that ran almost diagonally across your forearm and he felt you tense when you realised he had felt it, his brow knitted into a frown when he pulled your arm closer to inspect it, realising you were littered in tiny, little circular scars too, and he startled when you pulled your arm completely from his grasp, rising to start pulling your discarded clothes back on. 

“Doll?” he whispered.

“I don’t wanna talk about it Buck,” you pleaded and he looked at you like a kicked puppy when you continued “I didn't ask you how you got your scars, please don’t ask me about mine.”

He shot out of bed and was by your side before you could blink.

“But you could ask me about my scars. You can ask me anything. You got me wrapped around your little finger. I’m all yours.” 

You softened at that and stopped attempting to pull your clothes on in haste and beckoned for him to move into your arms.

“Just, just don’t push me too quick Bucky. I need time to adjust. Can you give me time?”

“I got time,” he agreed, pulling you in for another kiss, before he pushed you down onto the bed, climbing on top of you already hard again and had you a panting mess before he even slid inside.

When you woke the next morning Bucky was nowhere to be found, You tried to stop the disappointment pitting in your stomach when you realised his bike wasn’t in the parking lot either, so you pulled on your clothes and headed out to climb into your truck, when the roar of his bike whipped your head around and he stalked across the lot until he reached you.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he commanded.

“You weren’t here,” was all you offered and he softened a little “I had some business to take care of. But I’m back now, let me make you breakfast.”

You nodded and followed him back inside, only noticing when you sat down to eat that his knuckles were bloody. 

Bucky was an enigma to you. 

Over the coming weeks, with you, he was all gentle kisses and reassuring, soft touches. He was the Bucky that hung fairy lights around your cabin and picked wild flowers to put in vases in the window. The Bucky who still all these weeks later refused to charge you a single penny in rent. The Bucky who made love to you and looked after you in ways no one else had ever done. 

But you knew he could be reckless and at times a little too fond of whiskey. Bucky kept a lot of secrets, like where he snuck away to sometimes, returning bloody knuckled, or why he sometimes woke up screaming in his sleep. 

You tried to remind yourself that you too were carrying secrets of your own, but the truth was you were falling in love with Bucky, and that thought above all terrified you more than anything else. The sinking fear that someday this was all gonna come crashing down around you.

You were trying your best not to be a flight risk but the packed bag you hid under your bed was a constant reminder that you would always be ready to run when your time came. 

It didn’t take long for Steve and Sam to find out that you and Bucky were sneaking around, but despite his best attempts to keep you occupied, you were never late for a single shift.

About a month or so into seeing Bucky, Steve had been lingering around you all day and you finally had enough when he followed you down to the cellar.

“Steve,” you giggled “Whatever you have to say to me, just out with it.”

He laughed too, for a second, scratching at the back of his neck.

“I love Bucky y/n, he’s my brother for life.”

“But?” you quirked and he released a shaky breath. 

“But the war fucked him up, alright? It changed him. And I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“He won't hurt me Steve,” you assured, side stepping him and making your way back up to the bar.

“He won’t mean to,” Steve sighed and had to make peace with the fact that he had warned you as best as he could while also remaining loyal to his best friend.

Your laughter bounced off the walls of the closed bar, as you and Sam were setting up for opening. Bucky had been in the office going through the books when you got in, so you’d quickly pecked his cheek, leaving him to his work, but frowned when you saw the glass of whiskey on the desk.

You had been busy setting baskets of condiments out on each table while Sam was prepping food at the grill, singing along to the radio and using a flipper as a microphone, he made his way across the floor and took you in his arms and you danced across the floor together singing along too, giggling as he spun you around.

You startled when Bucky’s voice boomed across the floor.

“Get the fuck away from her Wilson,” he barked and was marching your way in the blink of an eye.

Sam immediately stepped away, hands in the air in surrender, the smile slipping off his face. 

“You don’t fucking touch her,” he was seething and pulled your arm in his and began to pull you behind him, you tried to wrestle free, slapping at him.

“Who do you think you are?” you gasped “Let go of me Buck.”

Bucky whirled you in front of him and you immediately prepared yourself for the slap coming your way, backing away, small hands up in defeat, trying to make yourself as small as possible, breathing laboured as you tried to fight off the incoming familiarity of a panic attack. 

But the slap never came.

And Bucky was rooted to the spot, sheer panic written all over his face.

“Doll?” he pleaded “Doll I would never-” 

But it was too late, you were sprinting out into the parking lot, tears streaming down your face and you fought to force air down into your burning lungs. 

Bucky came to find you, crouching down beside you. Stroking your hair.

“I would never hurt you,” he cried “Please doll. I need you to know that,” you nodded furiously, but you both knew. You knew the magic of the past few weeks was broken. 

You thought briefly of that packed bag in your room, and Bucky’s mind wandered to a faraway bunker in the Middle East. 

Despite it all you worked your shift, but even the regulars were put off by how quiet you were. You worked in silence and refused to meet Sam’s eyes all night.

When your shift finished, you pulled your apron off and Bucky was offering to ride you home.

“I think- I think I wanna be alone tonight Buck,” you said meekly and your words burned Bucky, as he watched you leave.

“I should go after her,” he sighed and Steve slammed the glass he was cleaning down.

“Bucky,” he snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You should respect her wishes and leave her alone. And you should apologise to Sam for being an asshole. But we both know you’re going to do exactly neither of those things.” 

The pounding on your front door pulled you from your tears, and you rolled over, hoping Bucky would take the hint and just leave but you knew Bucky better than that.

You let him knock a few more minutes before you finally swung the door open.

He was drunk, propped up on your porch with one hand and swaying slightly.

“Did you ride your bike out here like that?” you demanded as he barged his way by you inside. 

“How did you get those scars?” he demanded attempting to catch your arm but you snatched it back quickly.

“Buck what? No. We’re not doing this tonight,” you cried. 

“Someone did that to you didn’t they!” he demanded “That’s why you flinch. That’s why you run, that’s the cause of the panic attacks.”

“I don’t want to talk about this Bucky,” you cried “Please just go.” 

“I want to talk about it,” he snapped. “I want to talk about it because goddamn it doll, I don’t want you to have to hide any part of yourself from me. I want you all. And I’m sorry I’m such a piece of shit and I made you scared earlier. But I didn’t even know I could feel like this ever again.” He was tugging frantically at the ends of his long hair. 

“Bucky,” you cried “You’re saying all of this because you’re drunk, you would never say this to me sober.”

“I’m fucking terrified. Can’t you see that doll? I’m in so deep I don’t even know how to get back out. I need- Fuck I need you to know that I never want to hurt you. I would rather die.” 

He made his way over to you cupping your face and forcing your eyes to meet his, “The way I feel. The way you make me feel. I thought it was impossible. But you made it possible.” 

You wanted to melt into his touch, to fawn and assure him that everything was okay but you had nearly lost your life running away from your last relationship and as much as Bucky loved you, and you couldn’t deny you loved him, he was a loose canon.

“I don’t think I can do this Buck. It’s too much! The drinking-the fighting. I need calm. I need peace.” 

“And I need you,” he pleaded, “If I agree to see a shrink. If I give up the whiskey. If I put the work in for me, for us, could you see a future with me?” 

You nodded, because honestly you could, but you would need to see the proof. 

“If you did those things, if you give me breathing room, I could see my future with you.”

Bucky looked into your eyes for what felt like an eternity, before he nodded slowly, he knew in that second that he would change his whole life to make you happy, and safe.

“How did you get your scars?” he whispered and pressed his forehead to yours.

You sighed a shaky breath and nodded gently, “Knives, cigarettes, anything he could get his hands on,” you cried “That’s what I’m running from Buck. That’s what I’ve left behind.” 

He pulled you to him in an instant, peppering kisses to your forehead, your hair and eventually your face.

“I won’t ever let anyone hurt you again. Including- Especially me.”

Tagging: @spookyparadisesheep   @jbbarnesgirl   @salvatoreitmeanssaviour@princesscornbread   @loki-laufeyson-1054 @firstcashheroathlete @missvelvetsstuff     nana1000night   sapphire-rogers   @sarahrogersevans   @steverogerssimpp @spudinthemud   @mrsragnarlodbrok @buckgasms @miss-patriciah-maximoff   @hellomissmabel  @knittingknerdy @shamvictoria11 @buckysberrie @assembletheimagines @dearthofequanimity @wellthatsrandomkek @mitra-k-w @nikkitia7 @fantasticimpaladoctor @feelmyroarrrr @sebseyesandbuckysthighs @andhiseyesweregreen @frickin-bats @buckyywiththegoodhair @iiharu-kunii @bellenuit45-blog @james-bionic-barnes @avengerofyourheart @jaegers-and-kaijus   princess76179   brasspistol  thelittleredrobinhood tiedyedghoulette mishkatelwarriorgoddess

[samstclair]

Joel Miller's Survivor

Joel Miller X Reader

Anonymous Request

"Hey Sam! Hope you're still alive. You've been like ghost, and I'm getting worried about my request not being fulfilled, AND your health, of course or whatever! Yeah so can you get to it already? Joel X reader, simple. Can you make Y/N be like traveling with them or some shit? I don't know. But do your thing when you've crawled out of your hole!"

Word Count: long bro

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you lied in your bed, rotting (you have not gotten up in the three hours you've been awake [so now it's almost 12 in the afternoon]), feeling like absolute dog shit for:

1. your empty tummy, 

2. not having showered in a week despite you paying your water bills, 

3. your internet running at the speed of a geriatric snail so no more fan-cam edits, ALSO despite paying your internet bills, 

3. just feeling like an overall ball of grease and oil that could, if necessary, fill a car's gas tank, 

4. not having gotten up in those three hours, 

and 5., perhaps most importantly, the world ending :(

you gazed out your window into the morning (afternoon, actually), light that peered through. It was scenic really, little puffs of dust, some asbestos tinkled in, gliding softly in the air. It hit you - this is not fun or fresh. This sucks dick, actually. 

You rose, stretching, a big big biiiiigggggg stretch, cracking every conceivable bone in your body, trying to avoid looking in the mirror that could potentially reveal your physically-troubled state. You didn't even have to look to know the condition your hair was in - actually let's not talk about the hair. You'll spiral. If we can't see it, it's not real :D

"Fleabag said it best. Hair IS everything," you thought to yourself, thinking about avoiding the mirror. "Oh my god I could SOOOOO binge Fleabag right now -"

But you knew that wasn't an available way to veg out. As mentioned before, your power, water, and internet were out. You supposed it came with the world ending and all. 

"Grrrjsdjaksdfnbdsjdskjjfs," your tummy said. You cradled it like a mother holding her child. 

"Mama needs to eat soon...", you thought wearily.

You rose and peered out the window - and it was the same old shit. Those cracked-out girlies were still on the prowl, being the biggest cockblocks you've ever encountered in your life for some good food. 

"But girl, we gotta eat! We have to soon," your brain said. "You can't keep this shit up! REAL calories and shit actually do matter!"

"But bitch how? Those fat asses on the street are gonna try to toss up with you again!" the other side of your brain said. 

"So what? You're gonna keep living off three-month old Halloween candy?? Those Twix's are tasting more like the processed chocolate that they are every DAY! Stop playing around and gaslighting yourself into thinking they're good, girl!" the other side argued back. "THINK about it. You bought those to sneak in to watching Dune in theaters. And not even the second Dune, the first. They're literally vintage." 

"What's stomach gotta say?" the other side shot back, quite angrily. 

"Grhjdkajdjsjdfoifdiosiojf," your stomach replied. You knew what that meant a little all too well - your stomach couldn't take it anymore. She wasn't even sentient enough to respond.

"FUCK!" you bursted aloud! So loud that the cracked-out girlies out on the street got startled and did a little jump! 

You absolutely HATED being hungry. If this experience had taught you anything, it's the appreciation of a good ass fucking meal. You were, after all, a self-proclaimed 'fat ass bitch'. So how were you gonna live up to that now? 

You began to reminisce about your favorite dishes, even though you knew it wasn't gonna be a good idea for your mental health. 

Bandeja paisa...

Pickles...

McDonald's cheeseburger with Big Mac sauce...plz McDonald's worker, don't forget the sauce........

Publix sub...

Mango chunks with tajin...

Provolone cheese and salami...

Korean corndogs...

A fat ass burrito...

Little Caesars breadsticks...

Auntie Anne's organic cinnamon rolls...

Vodka pasta...

Coconut chickpea curry...

...a bowl of assorted fruit but none of that honeydew cantaloupe bullshit...

"FUCK!" you yelled again. They also jumped! again. "How the FUCK did I go from drinking tiki cocktails on the beach to the WALKING FUCKING DEAD?!?!?!?!??!!!!! I DON'T EVEN HAVE A FUCKING RICK HERE PROVIDING FOR ME!!!"

You slammed yourself back on the bed, ready to cry - both from the acceptance that this was your new reality and slamming yourself a little too hard that you felt a spring bust up into your thoracic spine. You hated yourself for talking shit about that cantaloupe and honeydew. Yeah they're ass and should NOT have a place in a fruit bowl but that was real fucking food. Real SUSTENANCE!!! And what did you do? You fed it to the fucking seagulls on the beach and used it to pelt those fuck ass middle schoolers who wouldn't stop quoting Adin Ross, when you could have enjoyed it yourself. Had it been now, you would've Iron Clawed those birds and children for those two dookie ass fruits just for a taste of something REAL. Not moldy chocolate from a Costco bag that you snuck into Lynch's Dune. (Yeah girl, I'm not talking the Timothee one. I'm taking the Kyle MacLachlan one. I said they were vintage!)

How did we get here?

Well, we'll revisit this question later, cause right now you have come to one FINAL decision - food. You. Need. Food. 

"Fuck it bro," you told yourself, tears welling in your eyes as you climbed out of your bed and made your way downstairs to the exit. "If there's no fine-ass cowboy police officer with a big ass nose to do it for me, I guess mama gotta do it herself." 

You slipped on your old-reliable Crocs (the Lightening McQueen editions so you could go fast), then opened your back sliding glass door as to avoid the crackhead girlies on the street out front, the sun nearly blinding you solar-eclipse style. You felt like a hostage released from a hole after months of being, well, held hostage. 

"Is this what Saddam felt like?," you thought.

A wave of complete euphoria went over you as you heard the birds chirp, the wind fly by, the smell of green grass with a little hint of deteriorating carcasses - it felt GOOD to be outside. Though you have had some bouts of homebody phases, you were never not missing the great outdoors. Besides the mosquitoes and the balls-hot sun, and the occasional dead bodies. But, you reminded yourself, we have to make the BEST of these types of situations. 

You closed the glass door, quietly, cause those electric-chair looking victims had the most insane hearing, (making, admittedly, quite jealous since you're sure you lost a percentage of your own hearing prematurely after the introduction of AirPods.)

You then walked across your now overgrown garden, which under any other circumstances, could have passed off as a big whimsical fairy garden with the grass now being several feet tall, little ladybugs and shit nestled between. But now, shit made you feel like you were in a jungle back in 'Nam, circa 1970, pushing the foliage out of your face as you got across, bracing yourself for running into a spider web or a gnat smacking you in the face. 

Once you saw the backyard gate, you opened it quietly and peered out onto the street - it was quiet, ODDLY quiet, with not one of those cockblockers in sight. You knew better, however, looks can be deceiving. We all thought those Polly Pocket outfits looked pretty good, but the gastrologist telling your parents that their elementary-school child has a rubber dress lodged in one of their intestines actually isn't pretty good. 

You crept out, tiptoeing like a cartoon character or Drake sneaking past Travis Scott to whisper his verses on MELTDOWN, making sure to stay EXTRA vigilant of your surroundings. You needed to master the art of NOT disassociating, which basically meant undoing all your previous masterings of the craft. It was extremely difficult, but it was needed - slipping up LITERALLY means death here. On some for realizies shit. On some getting eaten out by and not in the good way shit. (That was disgusting I apologize - Sam)

As you crept down the street, passing down the backdrop to your average end-of-the-world surroundings with moldy houses and charred cars, you tried to remember the way to the Target. You were shit at directions and there was no Apple Maps to help you now. You just had to rely on your primal instincts of location - which, suffice to say, were usually not that good. But, when food's involved, you could track like a Neanderthal holding a spear hunting a fat ass mammoth with a posse of your fellow Neanderthal girls, you know, like, primal. 

You turned the corner, sure of where you were going and worried about your luck thus far. No zombie in sight oh shit never mind there's one across the other side of the street. 

It kept twitching in its tweaked state, continuously running into a fence since it was blind with that ugly ass toe fungus all up in its face. 

"Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit," you told yourself. Asshole clenching, toes squeezing downward, you calmed yourself down. It was the blind one so girl you're good! Just creep by quietly, ain't nothing to it! 

You took in a deep breath - tap in tap in tap in girl! Just walk on past! 

"Okay, okay," you told yourself. "Girl CHILL! Let's go okay, one, two, three - oh fuck I'm fucking shitting myself -" 

But then, it hit you - you literally had no reason to be scared. You literally lived in New York. You took those subways, you knew how to handle characters like that. 

Like a light switch normally does, you switched. You felt all that fear drain out of you, like the shit you took earlier - quick and easy (it was diarrhea, so, not really a good analogy metaphorically). You walked on down, even giving a friendly wave at the fungus girl. They're people too! You remembered to tell yourself, you CANNOT judge someone by their appearance! They're just going through it, I mean, after all, we've all been in that depressive episode/state before. Why hate when you can relate? Exactly!  In all honesty, your hair right now probably isn't making you look well-adjusted. We all have our bad days <3 Just don't look at them too long and you're good! 

As you passed by, it occurred to you - you have not been out in a MINUTE. All that hubbub and for what? You just had to wave and walk past. This brought a refreshing smile to your face, happy that you were grounded back to your reality. 

"Pharrell was right. Look at the birds," you told yourself as you strolled along by, "look at the bees."

Though there were no birds or bees in sight, and the possible thought crossing your mind that you hallucinated the birds' chirps earlier, you thought it best to live in this pretend state. It helps being fake happy sometimes, after all! More and more that carbon dioxide leak in your house was sounding less like a theory and more like a fact!

You continued on, now remembering the area - Target was only a block or two away. Just in and out and oh shit there's another depressed tweaker right in front a couple feet away from you. 

This time, it wasn't one of those fungus girls. It was the one who could see AND hear. Talk about double fucking whammy. And she clocked your ass, head swinging inhumanely fast to look you straight in the face. 

"DAMN BITCH! YOU UGLY AS FUCK?!" you thought to yourself, unfortunately your instant, innate reaction.

"Hey, girl!" you said, friendly, trying to maintain your mindset from earlier. You waved and walked past, she seemed so taken aback from your friendliness that you left her stunted. She just stayed behind and watched. And on you walked on blissfully. 

But you weren't walking for long when you heard the pitter patter of those steps RACING behind you. You whipped around. Again, you were shit at directions and feet and all, but you were PRETTY sure that you'd walked several feet farther away, so why was the ugly fungus-but-no-fungus girl HELLA close to you right now?

"What?" 

The girl stopped, now confronted. 

You waited for a response. 

Apparently, so did she.

Y'all just stood there, silent.

......

................

...............................

..........................................

"Girl, I said what?"

Nothing. 

You shrugged, rolling your eyes and turned back. But again, that pitter fucking patter. 

You whipped around, quicker. She stopped her running, caught again. 

"Bitch, chill. I know your ass is not chasing at me," you warned. 

Nothing. Again.

You turned back around, walking a little faster. "Flaka drug ass bitch," you said under your breath. 

Pitter. 

Patter.

You whipped around again so fast you gave yourself whiplash and vertigo at the same time. 

 She stopped. 

"Bitch," you said, annoyed. 

"Ahfsjjdshhuweuifw," she mumbled. 

"I'm sorry?" you asked, genuinely confused at her mumbling. 

She had a dumbfounded face, despite not having the greatest ability to make expressions (half her face looked like those Barbie dolls Shane Dawson used to incinerate back on old YouTube). You inspected her closer. She definitely needed some Accutane treatment, cause apparently everyone ALL gave up skincare this year. 

"Sadjksfjdksjc," she snarled again, "sdfhjdsf, sdfhuwjsjioisd?" 

"Girl, I don't know," you replied, sassy. "I don't know what the fuck you're saying, to be honest."

"Sjdklasjfoijdjdisjfids," she mumbled.  

"Girl, speak the fuck up!"

The zombie huffed. "SJDJDFSAFIDSD!!!!" She put her hands on her waist, annoyed too.

You felt bad. You genuinely had no idea what she was saying, and it didn't sound like it ended in anything you could just reply with a quick and safe, 'yeah' or 'thank you' to. You couldn't even fake laugh. Awkward. Awco fucking taco. 

You two just stood there, face to face. A little standoff, perhaps? 

This encounter reminded you of the first time you encountered one of these girlies. It was on your walk home after you left your White Lotus resort from your month long stay....

"Ghrskjdsksfs," the girlie said from behind. It made you jump.

"OH MY GOD!" you yelled, both out of fear of her popping out of nowhere and of course, her appearance. "Girl, I don't wanna be rude, but you look BUSTED as fuck!"

She didn't respond. You soon found out she took offense to that.

She began to follow and chase you all the way home and up to your doorstep. High key on some harassment shit. You had to barricade yourself in, cause girl was trying to hug you or something and you love being nice to strangers but didn't wanna contract bed bugs, so you pushed the bitch down the porch in time for you to lock that door. She fucked up your Ring camera too from banging on the door, so shit was personal. 

You did NOT want to get physical with this girl now, but if push comes to shove, LITERALLY, then it'll have to do. 

And that was your mindset from then on. Anyway, back to the Western standoff:

"Okay, girl, look just back the fuck up, okay?" you warned. "I'm being like - soooo serious right now." 

You turned back around and continued down, a little hurriedly and checking behind yourself a little more often, but that girl got the memo. For a few more blocks, she was out of sight. 

You hated being rude, but, that's what being a girl entails sometimes.

"Horror nights came a little early this year," you told yourself, shaking your head, "some people don't have any self-awareness at all. So sad." 

Finally making it, you saw the big ass red target signaling it was a Target up above, with some extra cute greenery and mold growing inside of it. You liked the whole post-apocalyptic aesthetic, actually, but we keep that to ourselves. Other people's disadvantages are not cute to make an aesthetic out of, after all.

Inside, shit was ran SACKED. Others had gotten there before, the shelves wiped clean (figuratively, cause the shelves were filthy). It gave you STRONG COVID flashbacks. But, you were not here for toilet paper, you were here for FOOD, remember? 

You went to the back, avoiding broken pieces of glass and other unidentifiable and possibly tetanus-infested objects, looking for the produce and dairy section. It smelled of dampness and poop. Not great. 

"While I'm here, I wonder if they have some tampons, maybe? Actually, maybe they have some ZYN?" you wondered. After all, no one was readily available to supply you with an Elf Bar, your original being LONG dead. A girl still needed to tell her nicotine craving to chill out. You weighed your options: 

Having reciting gums > not having ZYN

Hmm.

Yeah.

Options seemed to talk for themselves. 

Anyway, you kept searching for any remnants of a SEALED package of food, but, unfortunately, there was none. If there were, it was moldy to the house boots down and def not edible to most people. You rummaged through and through, over and over - nothing. 

You took a deep, shaky breath in, feeling those panicky tears coming in, your hunger more unbearable. 

"Dude it's that, it's that I'm about to lose my fucking mind, bro," you mumbled manically to yourself as you continued to rummage like a raccoon. This made you sympathize with them, those girls live hard lives. If you were RJ, you would've stolen that bear's food too.

You picked through the remaining bags, inspecting the see-through plastic while holding it like it was an object from Chernobyl - at the very tip with the most minimal amount of skin to package contact possible. You held them up to the light and god forgive you, gave them a little sniff. When you made that mistake once, you assured maybe it was best not to do it again, the mildew-rotting scent so horridly offensive to your nasal passage that it nearly catapulted you into the ether. 

You sat down, ready to welcome that panic attack breakdown, but soon shot yourself up after smacking your ass right into a cold septic puddle of rainwater (or so you hoped) dripping from the rotted ceiling. In just in your "I <3 ORLANDO" Spongebob-themed PJ shorts, you were never more sure that you just contracted yourself a yeast infection. And by the way you also caught a glimpse of your hair in the reflection of the puddle. 

And this was it. 

You broke. 

Your hair looked like Beetlejuice. 

You looked like Beetlejuice.

YOU LOOKED LIKE BEETLEJUICE?!?!?!?

"I'm losing my mind? I'm losing my mind. THIS IS SO FUCKED!" you exclaimed, oddly enough in the exact likeness of Shane Dawson's freakout in that one instagram live reacting to Tati Westbrook's YouTube video. (What's with Shane today?) "Oh my god? Oh my god?"

You were manic. This was it. This was it - 

But wait - you forgot the canned food section? 

A lone Chef Boyardee ravioli sat on the shelf, waiting, seemingly, just for you. She looked beautiful. Stunning. Heavenly. 

You feverishly snatched the fuck out of that can, and in such power popped the lid off wide open, the colors of that red tomato sauce and surfacing ravioli packets swimming delightedly. You did it. You tapped into your inner Neanderthal, strength and all.

You downed that shit all in one go, feeling its room temperature-ness sink from your throat down to your intestines, down past that lodged Polly Pocket dress, into the acidic pit of your belly. You felt all your stomach cells jump collectively with such joy, imagining the cheering sounding just like what Horton heard on that speck. 

You smiled so happily and genuine, with the exact likeness of Mark Weins. 

You moaned, quite audibly. It was delectable. 

You had to hit it, you NEEDED to hit it, just like Mark - 

"Mmm, woooowwAAAGAHAHAH - "

"- SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECHCCHCHCHHCHHC CRAASH BOOMMOMSMDF JSAFJSDSFHSJDHFJS - "

" - OH SHI -"

-You ragdolled onto the floor -

"- WHAT THE FU -"

-Fragments of cement bursted all around you -

"-BRO WHA-"

-You went blind-

And then, it was all silent.

Your moment of bliss completely evaporated, by a blue pick-up crashing into the Target, right into the produce and dairy section you were in seconds before, in another world...

Your ears rang, you were covered in dust, with the remaining red Chef Boyardee sauce all up on your face. 

The entire building SHOOK with more pebbles and asbestos from the roof dropped onto the floor, along with the rattling of the glass windows.

The sound of insane gunfire soon followed. 

You remained soldier-style onto the ground, like one taking it for the team by taking in all the impact of a land mind, belly to the ground. Though you couldn't see it what was happening, your soy face was NASTY. 

"Bro whaaatttt????" you whispered. "All this for toilet paper????" 

"TA-TATA-ATATATATATA," said the gunfire. "PPAPAPAATATATATTAAAA!!!!"

You crouched up, peering a little outside, to see a car on fire, along with more of that loud ass fucking gunfire and people ducking for cover. Shit was a real Call of Duty game. Shit was a real war zone. You were stupefied, stunned, SAT! Then, to the right -

"SCREEEECHCHCHHCHHCHCH BOOOF BOOOM PAPRATATATATA!!!!" More cars whipped around the corner outside, like for real Fast and Furious shit! 

"Uh," you thought to yourself, no longer wanting to watch like a noisy pedestrian, "uhhhhhh, yeah this ain't for me. A girl like me is NOT supposed to be here! This ain't my business! War is for boys <3"

You quickly made a go for the exit, only to find it blocked by some grown ass man and child. They quickly clocked you, safe to say, both parties knowing that seeing another person this close right now is not a great sign. 

The man pointed his gun to you as he stayed down with the girl, avoiding the incoming shots. 

"Wait, THEY'RE the ones being shot at?" you realized, "nah bro I'm good."

"Oh, don't mind me!" you quickly said in your sweet, customer service voice, "I'm just gonna, gonna go ahead and, yeah," you inched closer to the back door and saw yourself out to the alleyway behind the place, managing to casually dodge every incoming bullet at you by a hair. After shutting that shit behind you, you stood straighter, dusted some of the dust off, and thought it best to go on back home and pretend that nothing happened, as always.

You actually ended up knocking out NASTY in the alleyway. Like, unbeknownst to you, multiple of those fungus girls walked by you thinking you were already dead. 

You stirred, delirious and confused, like an old person snapping out of a moment's dementia. It was nearing sundown by now, with the sunset casting its glow on the desolate alley buildings. 

You rubbed your slept-swollen face after you cranked yourself up with shaky ass arms, genuinely trying to remember the events that brought you here in the first place. You were like a shell-shocked vet. 

"Bro...where the fuck....?" you looked around, trying to piece everything together - but you thought that might be too much work, so you opted to doing your own version of the Irish goodbye and leaving without addressing the previous events <3. 

"I get those frat boys. Last night really WAS a movie," you thought as you walked out of the alley, looking left and right trying to remember how the fuck you were gonna take your ass back now - like NOW cause nighttime is not the place to be around these girlies. You played Minecraft. You knew the vibe. They seemed to be more rabid and unpredictable, which safe to say, is NOT your fave combo. You could so fuck up a bag of Combo's right now.

You dusted more dirt from your SpongeBob shorts, and tried to fix your botched hair, but was briefly and heavily distracted by a dust particle getting into your eye - causing such emergency and panic. 

"Oh fuck oh fuck no get out get OUT!" you worried, trying to pry whatever foreign conspirator of a dust particle that was currently committing espionage in your eye socket, albeit looking quite disturbing doing so. 

After prying that bitch out, you wiped your face and to your fucking dismay, spotted red stains all up on your hands. Your heart fell to the empty distilled pits of your stomach, to the pits of your gooch - 

"IS THAT FUCKING BLOOD? OH MY GOD AM I FUCKING, LIKE, HURT?!" you freaked - you were quite literally wounded in battle. You took a sniff. "Oh, just tomato sauce. I'm so silly!" 

You smiled to yourself happily, slowly remembering that ravioli - the one highlight of this mess. Your tummy rumbled. 

"If only there was a cart full of foo - oh my god there's one right there," in front of you was a shopping cart that apparently spawned out of nowhere filled with goodies. Literally perfect!

You approached it, mesmerized by its contents - more canned ravioli, Dolly Parton's buttercream frosting, a tub of fresh watermelon, some bags of gummy worms, some bags of Wingstop wings (with fries and ranch!), tubs of water (of which you credited this random shopping cart being sent from some higher power because it wasn't Dasani or Zephryhill), Combo's and, perhaps most importantly, a jar of spear dill pickles. 

You could've cried. 

And you did. 

But you stopped after like ten seconds because remember it's nighttime a girl needs to GO!

You took that shopping cart and began walking down the scene where that Fast and Furious ass scene went down, now lifeless of any activity but bullet-riddled crashed cars, piles of broken cement, dead bodies, and random spouts of smoke. You felt like just a girl, walking down an average street in New York, living a single, nepo-fueled and quaint life. 

"If only I had my headphones," you thought, now saddened that your phone and sound-proof headphones had been long-dead. "I LITERALLY pay my fucking bills, like?" 

You continued walking, just a girl with her shopping cart, when you spotted a clearing in some forest area, which seemed very familiar to you. 

"Lowkey, I think this is a short-cut to my house?" you said to someone, apparently. (There's no one around you but that's never stopped you.)

You went down into the wood, like a girl with just her shopping cart going through a magical Studio-Ghibli-esque forest that sprouted between two demolished buildings into some portal into the spirit world. Though it was pretty difficult to push the lowkey-broken shopping cart on anything but flat flooring, causing you to have some bouts of intolerable anger so powerful it helped you yank the wheels stuck on uprooted roots, you thought, "hey, things could lowkey be worse? Like, let's just remember what Vanessa Hudgens said, 'Like, yeah, people are gonna die which is terrible but like...inevitable?' "

And people did die, BUT, you did have Wingstop fries, so. 

And now, it wasn't just a whole shopping cart of goodies that you would return home with, but some granola?!

A pile of perfectly placed granola sat pretty on the ground in front of you, with some berries and yogurt bits scattered in - just fucking delicious and any vegan mommy's dreams.

"Oh my god," your mouth salivating, inhumanely - a Kubrick stare fell over your face as you eyed the fuck out of that horse feed.

"I could lowkey fuck UP some granola," your stomach said, the only decipherable thing she's said in a loooooooong time. Long time.

When you clocked out of your gaze, you walked on over, ready to scoop up the entire pile, relishing in the self-fulfillment and satisfaction you imagined was what those Neanderthals felt way back when. This little hunting and gathering thing we got going on here? Ain't that hard. 

You stood over it, grabbing the pile that happened to be conveniently sitting on a plastic mat, attached with some strings that went places you didn't really give a fuck to know about. All that mattered, was that the stars were aligned for you tonight, the moon must've been in your favor. You didn't need a tarot reader to know that life, well, was good now. Life laugh love even through apocalypse <3

"Man, mama eaten GOOOOOOD tonight!" you bellowed, giggling, dancing slightly back and forth like the fat ass you are, "I wondered if the Neanderthals ever dabbled in a little grano - "

"Grhasjdhfsdsknfjs."

You froze. 

Ain't. No. Fucking. Way. 

You looked up slowly. 

"Biiiiitccchhhhhh," you said, in disbelief. 

"Grajsdhfsajdsk," she said, more sassier than ever. 

"No - NO! This is MINE!" you warned the same fungus girl from earlier. She stood, several feet away, creepily standing in the dark now that the sun was pretty much set. Let's just say, HELLA liminal spaces-core. HELLA ominous with it.

She didn't reply. Instead, she began creeping closer to you, looking at you up and down like an old man checking out a girl walking by who HAPPENS to be in a tank top. You loved your LGBTQ+, but girl needed to be a little smoother in her approach! 

"No. Back off NOW!" you shot back, now standing straighter. After some time out in this life, you learned it's best to approach these girls like you would a bear, if, ideally, you were able to keep yourself calm enough so much so you could think clearly - just stand straight and tall. Stand your GROUND stand your GRANOLA if you will. 

"I'm warning you, girl. No means no. I found it first, fair and fucking square." 

She kept coming, now closer than ever. She wasn't taking no for an answer. You almost gagged at her peeling face, icked the fuck out, but didn't wanna be THAT outwardly rude. She was looking you up and DOWN. (It admittedly boosted your ego up a little, like, were you lowkey hot right now?)

It was clear she wasn't backing down. Your bear tactic went down the toilet. 

She began running. 

Full. 

Speed. 

"Jesus, fine we can share, girl, okay?"

Let's just say, she meant business. Bitch was about to pimp-slap you across the face for that granola. 

"Bro it's that I said we could shaAAAAAAAAAAA - "

But itt was too quick. Too sudden. 

One moment you were about to post-up with the fungus tweaker and the next you were plummeted to the ground by an unseeable force, every ounce of wind pushed out from every crevice of your body, the granola popping into the air like confetti that became shrapnel against the fungus girl, lodging itself into her already fucked-up face.

You gasped for air, in complete shock, whatever force holding you down to the ground - you looked up to see what actual 200+ pound of muscle football fuck just tackled you. Is the granola like the football right now? Did you just touchdown or whatever right now? 

It was him - the same guy from earlier. 

You were too exasperated to speak, literally non-verbal. All he saw were your wide ass eyes, gaping open mouth begging for air like a fish out of water (fish don't breath air, little fun fact! :D) and Beetlejuice hairdo, some tomato sauce still crusted around your lips. 

He suddenly lifted himself up, whipped out a bat from his side and beat that fungus girl to DEATH. Like, BEAT. 

"Oh fffff - uckaaaa," you were able to muster, "there go my Chiro sessions -" 

You rose up, struggling, feeling physically and spiritually like a stomped-on roach, watching this man absolutely go ballistic on the girl. She wasn't even identifiable anymore, just a big mess of red gross goo and shit. 

The little girl from earlier stood closely, like you, just completely entranced with the very ugly and quite frankly inappropriate violence for a child like her to be witnessing. It was like the Reddit 50/50 challenge all over again. (P.S. so like if you look up what that challenge is DON'T press images like I absentmindedly just did literally right after typing that to see if it was still up - Sam <3).

After he was done wailing, he stood straight, caught his breath, bringing himself back to reality from that outburst. He wiped blood off his dome and looked to you, a face of both complete disappointment and disgust that only comes with a man 50 and up. 

Your short-tempered, therapist-diagnosed anger flew over you - physically raging like a boy who got his house blown up by a creeper in Minecraft. Again, what did we say about nighttime???

"You. Fucking. DICK!!!!" you spat, your control now completely lost, "DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH IT FUCKING COSTS FOR A CHIRO SESSION?! DON'T YOU KNOW THEY DON'T EVEN EXIST ANYMORE, APPARENTLY?!??! DO I LOOK LIKE TRAVIS KELCE?!?!? DO I LOOK LIKE A QUARTER POUNDER OR WHATEVER THE FUCK?!?! ARE YOU TRYING TO ROLE PLAY AS TAYLOR WHEN THE CHIEFS WON?! I AIN'T A FUCKING SWIFTIE LIKE THAT!!!!!!"

After your spewing, you took a deep breath. It felt pretty good, you even smiled. 

His face fell. 

"Are you fucking crazy?" he bellowed back, "Are you out of your mind?! What were you thinking?!"

"I was literally JUST sharing food. I had that handled. I was like, breaking - breaking bad. Like Jesus..?" you knew there was something wrong there. Now you felt embarrassed. "No, wait - that's bread. Whatever fuck it I FUCKED THAT UP! But I'm NOT meth head, I'm NOT LIKE HER!" you pointed at the now mass of flesh and fungi. Gross. 

"I just saved your fucking life," he now came in close, towering over you and pointing, intimidating and furious. His southern drawl was in full action. (Uh oh you found this hot little does he know). "That granola back there was a fucking deer trap!" 

"Well," you started, biting your tongue like a mom, "it seems you've trapped my 'deer' ol' hear -" 

The girl stepped forward before you could finish that not well-timed flirt. "Wait, aren't you from the supermarket? Earlier?" she asks, now laughing, "That was crazy!" 

"Ellie, don't." The man stepped back, guarding the girl from you. He was weary. "Who are you?"

"I'm me," you said, arms crossed, unplucked and overgrown eyebrows raised. "Who are you?"

"Joel....?" the girl named Ellie said, worriedly. He seemed to chill out a bit. He looked over to her with a face that read: Don't worry. I know this bimbo means no harm." 

During that moment, you really took the scene in - and that scene? This man in front of you with the hick ass name Joel. Joel? Well, 

"Why he kindaaaaaa," BOTH sides of your brain said. "No, no I can't. Not here and not again, like time and place," you thought to yourself, but unbeknownst to you you said aloud. Safe to say, they looked at you oddly.

But you couldn't control your thoughts or your emotions. They are, after all, your thoughts and emotions which are usually, like Vanessa said, inevitable? 

He was tall, burly, and graying - with such a masculine aura it was insane. The strong, silent types, as your ex-boyfriend/ex-sugar daddy, Tony Soprano, would've adored. His whole rugged look - dirt on the face, unkept hair and facial hair, tired eyes, somewhat smelly...

Then it hit you. 

Is this it? 

Is this him? 

Is this your RICK?????

You didn't realize it, but you were staring. Not in the Kubrick this-bitch-fucking-crazy way, but in the, this-bitch-out-of-it way. You shook yourself back to reality. If you were going to bag this man, you needed to act indifferent. 

A moment went by, no one spoke.

"Well.... y'all gonna eat this?" you asked, motioning to all the scattered granola.

They didn't reply.

"Okay slay!" You bent down to start picking up all the pieces. You weren't, after all, gonna let all that go to waste like these bozos would. 

You popped one in your mouth, chomping that stale piece. "Mmmm. Mhm. Yeah. Sprout's. Def." 

You continued to pick them up, the man named Joel now scoffing in disbelief of the situation. You perked up and turned to the Ellie girl. "Hey girlie, you want?" 

Ellie the girl happily grabbed some, chewing on it for what looked like the first time. You were confused, judging, but thought it best to not judge. 

"Ggrjsdfjsakjdfska."

All three of you stood straight, frozen. 

Another fungus bitch pulled up, arms out and perked up at the sight of y'all - his possible little buffet. He had on a Vineyard Vines t-shirt and a pair of Sperry's. In summation? Ugly. His face was also fucked up.

"Oh, my god," you said, over it, "what ever happened to finders fucking keepers? Y'all getting on my damn NERVES! Hold this girl," you passed the collected granola into Ellie's arms. Joel, getting prepped to probably curb stomp this once-private and probably racist schoolboy, soon stopped once he saw you step up to the ring. 

As mentioned before, you never liked to resort to violence, but there comes a time...

You grabbed that zombie by the hair, and began to wail on it with one punch after another, grabbing it's man-bun ponytail and slamming its body onto the ground, continuing to obliterate it's my-daddy-has-a-boat ass, completely disassociating with anger. 

Joel and Ellie watched in both horror and amazement at your abilities. 

"You fucking bitch back the FUCK off bro!" you muttered. The last time you fought with this same manner and vigor was in the school bathrooms over a juul. Those cookie-monster PJ pants girls taught you well. 

Once you landed him in an induced coma, you rose up, took in a deep breath and searched his Bermuda short's side pockets, feeling for the all familiar shape. And there she was. 

You pulled it out - there she was in all her beauty. 

"Speaking of!" you said, examining the blueberry fume. As mentioned, it was just like those bathroom fights. "Yes YES! I used to know a girl who FUCKED these up! I just KNEW he'd carry!" 

Just then, the rich boy moved. You clocked it, and kicked it on its side. It rose and quickly ran off, frightened, as you continued to yell some more obscenities. You hit the fume - shit was still kicking. 

You turned back. "Sorry guys, I'm just, I try to be patient with them, and I am, don't get me wrong. I know COVID has everyone acting, you know, off their shit but," you looked to the now deceased fungus tweaker. "Poor girl. She just wanted some granola bits." 

Joel furrowed his brows, very confused. "Why would you be 'patient' with them? They're infected!" 

"Hey! That's not a nice way to characterize victims of diseases - drugs are real, like don't you know about fenty? And I'm not even talking about Rihan -"

"They're runners! They're not human!"

You turned back to the limping 'runner', now confused too. 

"Runners?" you asked, turning back. 

Joel nodded. "Yeah. Infected. Undead." 

"You mean, like, zombies?"

Joel took a minute, seemingly embarrassed that he hadn't thought of something so obvious as that sooner. 

"You know," you shrugged, tired, blowing out an obnoxious cloud of smoke from the fume, a cloud, if you will, "they're just going through it." 

Ellie looked to Joel, unsure of what to make of your comments. 

It was now nighttime, and after massively failing to locate or find your way back home, Joel, out of pity that you were a bit of a bimbo, allowed you to stay with them for one night. 

You all were camped (ew I know) in the middle of a forest, it was pitch black outside all except for the small fire in front of you all where Joel had baked beans cooking. Apparently, your perfect shopping cart with the goodies vaporized into the air, because it was nowhere in sight after the whole shabackle and hubbub. Joel suggested in a, what you swore was, passive-aggressive way, that you were so starved you began hallucinating it. You knew that was most probably the case but would've rather eat a fungus off one of those 'runners' or whatever's faces than admit that. And you would've, again, rather eat that toe fungus than mentioned your probable house's carbon dioxide leakage.

Anyway, back to the scene - Ellie is knocked out in her sleeping bag, leaving you and Joel to sit across from each other in a pretty awkward silence as you ate those gross ass beans. There were some moments you caught yourself about to complain about them and claim they tasted like 'dick', but thought it best not to. But, you needed to say something about this, you couldn't just hold it in. 

"How's the beans?" Joel asked, quietly and moodily as usual.

"Tbh," you said, the first thing spoken in like an hour, "...I just want, like, sushi, man."

His face fell a bit.

"But this isn't bad! Trust me!" you quickly tried saving yourself, feeling very quite bad, "look, I've had beans in England. Some say the bean capital of the world, there's literally a dude from there named Mr. Bean. And this is so much better."

He was too confused to reply.

You felt a fly buzz by your ear - one of your number one hated sensories to be crossed - and smacked it. You HATED the outdoors too, as much as you hated these beans. It reminded you of when you had exited your home after months being inside and how quickly that 'touching-grass' shit got old. 

But still, no complaining. 

You glanced over at him, and you couldn't help but think - man this dude looks familiar. Very familiar. You weren't sure if it's just cause you haven't seen another person in some time, or in this case, another man in so long that your brain basically said: "man = every other man" and that's the reason you thought he looked 'familiar'. But, no, no - you'd SEEN this man before. Did you have a dream about him? No, that was Rick. Actually, now that you thought about it, he lowkey looked like some of your ex's? 

"What's your name?" you asked, trying to break the awkward silence. You knew, but had forgotten. 

He hesitated, his grumpy ass chewing on those beans. "Joel. Joel Miller." 

"Oh my god, you're real?" And that was it - THAT'S why he looked familiar! "I literally wrote a fan fiction about you in class, and submitted that as my final! Everything really does come full circle when you think about it." You went back to eating your beans, waiting for him to respond, which he didn't really do a lot. You thought it best to move on. 

"Well, Joel. Can I tell you something?" 

He hesitated again, a little longer. "What?"

"So like, I've only been out here for like, a week? Or two? To be honest I don't remember. Could be a month, but like, what happened?"

"What do you mean what happened?" that southern drawl coming out more now that he was annoyed/mad that you'd even ask a question like that. 

You shrugged and looked around. "Like, all this?" you said, obviously. 

He let out a tired breath.

"Well, there were this fungu -"

Just as he was about to explain, you interrupted, unknowingly, going on more about your cluelessness. 

" - Like, one minute I'm in a resort, you know, the White Lotus one, sipping marg's on the beach, for like a month? My ex-boyfriend slash sugar daddy at the time, AND I only say ex cause he hasn't gotten back to me since all this shit happened so I just assumed he broke it off with me but whatever, that's not the point, Tony - Tony's his name - paid for my stay. It was great, I was living pretty, you know, lavishly? VERY lavishly, actually. I was tanning, being massaged, going through a whole cleanse, you know? No phone, no internet. I had a bunch of books recommendations from TikTok, but to be honest I didn't really read them cause the words just don't process, you know? You just need to bring it with you to make people THINK you read, you know? Anyway, I'm there, and who do I see? Fucking Jared Leto! Yeah, that creepy ass bitch! He had his whole cult there, like they're weird Jonestown retreat or whatever, and I wanted to join cause it looked fun but I knew I probably couldn't be married to him, you know, how all those cult leaders are. Anyway whatever, it was great. I was having a great time, Big Ange was even there and she left me her green glasses and I've been meaning to give them back to her - "

"- Where'd you say you were staying at again?"

"White Lotus? In Jersey?"

"There's a beach resort in Jersey?"

"No, I know what you mean. It's where Tony was from, but it's a faux beach. The beach? It's faux. Stops the smell of rotting 'whacked' bodies, you know, cause that's not very resort like?"

He nodded, he understood. 

"Yeah. Anyway," you said, annoyed he interrupted you, "I'm there, in my room, sleeping, and there's a knock at my door. I go and it's the lobby guy or whatever, he's like rushing me out telling me about how my stay is over cause there's a cold going around and I have to leave, like? I'm sorry, I paid - well Tony paid - for the whole month and a half? But what am I gonna do, you know? So I'm like fine fucking party poopers, and they kick me out, like a fucking cartoon, down the steps of the place and toss my luggage. At first I was mad, cause like, what's a little cold? And then I look outside where they kicked me out and the world is like, over? Everything ended? Over a fucking cold? Shit was like, demolished. And then they shut the door behind me leaving me to fend for myself, like I'm sorry? Do I look like Bear Grylls? Do I look like 'Survivor'? Like I got this shit handled? So whatever, I walked back home and let's just say: Culture. Shock. Insane. Like, whaaattttt? Covid was worse than I thought! Then I get home, my power's out, my water, everything. And shit was DIRTY! Like as if I'd been gone for twenty fucking years. I couldn't check Twitter or anything, it wasn't loading so I couldn't find out what the big deal was. Like, guys, can we talk about the political and economic state of the world right now? AND I had a blister on my toe from the walk! It sucked!" 

(Told you we'd revisit! Now, we're revisited!)

Once you were finished with your impromptu story time, Joel intently listening, he went onto explain after the whole lore of the political and economic state of the world right now, how it wasn't even political or economic, just a virus. Shit was crazy. Fungus, coffee beans and spinach, Fire fly people, rations, explosions, the whole deal. You were tapped in, realizing you didn't space out cause he was just so fine to look out you genuinely cared about what he had to say. And he said it. 

A sullenness came over him, and you hated to say - it was pretty hot. But time and place! It just occurred to you that he didn't seem like the type to open up, so him being vulnerable just made you think, wow, he's a human! And he's hot! 

After he finished, there was a sad silence in the air. 

"Man....covid really was worse than I thought," you replied. 

"Now do you get it? They're not real people or 'girlies'. They're infected," he said. "Do you have any experience with them? Besides the one you beat on and scared away today?"

"What makes you think I don't have any experience?" you replied, with a little flirtatious-sass in your voice. You knew you didn't have experience. 

"Cause no experienced person would have willingly beaten up an infected the way you did without fear of being scratched or bit. It was reckless and stupid what you did."

"Yeah but I fucked his ass up," you said, hyping yourself up in the process. "But lol you're kinda right. Nah, yeah the most experience I have with zombies is Black Ops. Those bitches give me the heeby JEEBIES!" 

"You think this Tony is still alive?"

"I don't know, actually," you said. "We got into a pretty bad argument before I left, that's why I left, you know, to the resort, for some space and a break between each other. So I doubt he'd call me back now." 

"What about?"

"He's like a big animal guy, you know? Whatever, his fucking horse died and I literally didn't know, no one told me. There was a candle lit at the vet when they were putting him down and I was like, as a joke, 'guys! It's lit right now!' and he was all like, 'what he fuck is wrong with you?'. He was annnnggrryyyyyyy. I didn't read the paper beside the candle saying to be quiet, that they were putting it down," you said, shrugging. "Really sad. She was a pretty horse, you know? Cunty." 

Joel nodded. This was all a very serious affair for him. It bummed you out, everything was so serious and sad out here. 

"So these zombies aren't girl's girls after all? They're like, anti-girlies?" you asked, mainly as a statement of fact you were coming to terms with rather than a question. 

"I guess so," he said. "Whatever the fuck that means," he also said, not as audible. That explosion earlier left you more partially deaf. 

He looked down and continued to fiddle and play with his beans with his fork, not taking much interest in his appetite anymore.  There was a moment of silence between you guys, more comfortable than before. You both felt the bond of this shared experience bring you guys together a bit, in this very moment. He didn't feel much of a stranger anymore, and neither did you to him. You felt, truly, he was a man who lost something too...

The solemness on him, again you hated to admit, you found very attractive. EXTREMELY attractive, actually. The last time you saw a relatively attractive man was months ago at the resort, and he was, unfortunately, (but not unfortunately for the gays) a gay man. RIP ARMAND <3. So safe to say, you were rabidly horndogging. He was the type of man that has a LOT of shit going on, but doesn't talk about it, but DOES look like it. 

But you knew how to handle this - it wasn't your first rodeo. 

"So are you, like, single, orrr...?" you asked, sheepishly, acting like you are so not trying to get at him right now. 

"Why do you ask?" he replied, somewhat guarded. 

"Well cause you got a daughter and all, like is there a wife orrr - ?"

" - She's not my daughter." 

"Damn. Okay. So you're like babysitting orrr?"

He thought for a moment. "Sure," he replied, cautiously. 

"Man, you're just triggering my daddy issues!" you joked but it horrendously didn't land, "just kidding!" You giggled, casually and nervously. What happened to time and place?

TIME JUMP!!!!!

Remember how I said Joel just let you stay with them for one night? Well now it's been like six months and you're halfway across the country, in another truck! Yay!

Despite him giving clear signs that you two were to part, (not wanting to outright DIRECTLY say so cause he didn't wanna be rude), it was clear you weren't able to those read social cues that well. (Actually, you did, you read them quite well, but wanted to pretend not to because he was now your Rick and you lowkey mentally imprinted on him on some Twilight shit). He eventually gave up all hope, pitying you in a way. The only positive he saw was how you did all the talking with Ellie, since his ass is basically mute.

You became a sort of bigger sister/cool aunt for her, which you ate the fuck up. You had to fill her in on EVERYTHING: the Dramageddon lore, the Challengers summer experience, Ariana Grande/Spongebob fiasco, Kendrick v. Drake beef, Jojo's Karma's a Bitch and how she's the first self-proclaimed lesbian to ever exist, Colleen Ballinger's ukulele apology, finding out about the Queen's death and Twitter, the Montgomery riverfront fight, and more that aren't too important to mention. You thought it best to fill her in on shit a girl her age would fuck up, like what kid cares about the political and economic state of the world right now? Anyway you two got along very well, she made you giggle and you made her giggle, the perfect vibe! Joel lowkey admired you for, (and found it hot), the way you were with her. What could you say? All those years in early childhood back in high school meant something after all! Not just D grades and getting caught with a cart in your backpack!

Speaking of Joel, he definitely wouldn't show it, but like I said, he began to like you a bit. Actually, fuck that middle school shit and 'liking' - he began to FALL for you! On some romantic period piece shit! And who wouldn't? Besides those moldy Spongebob shorts, crusty yet fast Lightening McQueen Crocs and Beetlejuice hair, you were a natural beauty! Girl you were bad asf!!!!

Now in another pick-up, y'all were moving cross cuntry. You had your feet out the window, letting them get that breeze as you watched the Microsoft Windows default wallpaper-esque landscape pass on by. Ellie was in the back reading her nerd ass comic books, while Joel drove, of course, in silence. You were literally his passenger princess. If only you had a phone and AUX, cause your Spotify roadtrip playlist would so hit right now.

But again, what's in Ohio?

All you knew, was that they needed to get to Ohio. What's in Ohio? Who the fuck knows. Logan Paul? London? Yes, there's a London in Ohio, you knew that all to well when you accidentally booked a flight there instead of the actual London in England high off a Benadryl pill. But you wouldn't mention that to Joel.

You weren't sure what the fuck was up with Ohio, all he said was that they needed to get there. You thought it best not to question too much, afraid of losing that passenger princess spot.

(hey! it's Sam and my dumbass just realized that it's Utah they're going to, not Ohio. Apparently they wanna meet up with the Mormons, not Prime's own, Logan Paul. Whatever same hick ass states anyway I'm not gonna change it so proceed!)

"I wish I had my phone or AUX right now," you said, sadly. "I have this Spotify roadtrip playlist that would sooooo hit right now."

He gave you a side eye, his normal response.

"What song would you play?" Ellie asked.

"Hmm, let me think," you said, now thinking. "Probably like, Lana's cover of 'Take Me Home, Country Roads'? You know, cause we're like on country roads right now."

Joel gave you another side eye. You peeped. This was a perfect prying moment!

"Do you know that song?" you asked Joel. Y'all barely spoke anything personal (actually, YOU spoke at lengths, without being asked, about your personal stuff, but not vice versa. He was a great listener, though).

"Yeah. I know it," he said, quietly. You knew there was more.

Just as you were about to say something, he interrupted.

"But I don't know who that 'Lana' is."

"Oh, Joel, you'd fuck UP Lana! She's like the bridge between girlies and middle-aged men, not for the same reasons but a bridge nonetheless!"

You all then began to talk about music, but it usually involved just you and Ellie pairing up to bully, in a friendly way, Joel. It was fun to make fun of him, in a friendly way. You got so much enjoyment out of bugging these grown ass men, cause their egos were so fragile. You also just kind of found it hot that you could do that, with Joel as NO exception.

As mentioned before, he was very quiet. And you're a talker. See the problem? You were waiting for the right moment, when after all this buildup and trust would, well, buildup into trust, enough for him to open up to you. And when that day comes, it won't be just his mouth opening up!

You also got pretty good at learning how to defend yourself against the zombie girlies. Not that you didn't know before, but now, with Joel's help, you were able to take down multiple at once. You ate that shit up, feeling like one of those hot Resident Evil characters. Joel was even impressed, which made you pretend more like it was 'no biggie' as you'd usually say. What you didn't say, of course, was how your asshole clenched from fear every time you saw one and how you ached all over from fighting! But why would you?! Appearances are lowkey everything!!

The skyline of the city finally came into view. Fuck if you knew which city it was, you lost track. Your stomach rumbled. You cradled it as if you were "so I'm thirty-four weeks today", softly and longingly. You needed to eat. The rumble was loud, causing Joel to look over.

"You okay?"

"Does it sound like it? I'm hungry," you said. "Where's my fume?" You began to pat yourself down for that appetite suppressant, having an addict's moment of panic that you may have lost it. You didn't, she just thought she'd be funny and slip between the cracks of the chair and armrest. You pulled that bitch out and envisioned it was a Five Guy's cheeseburger as you inhaled that faux blueberry chemical.

"Guys, what's this?" Ellie asked, reaching over to the front, pointing to a roll of sushi illustrated in her comic. You didn't know Batman had time to eat sushi, but,

"Oh, FUCK!" you bellowed. "Sorry, Ellie. Excuse my French. I could so eat that right now."

You then caught a glimpse of a rather large scar on her forearm. Shit looked crazy.

"Uh, Ellie," you said. "I don't wanna like, overstep or be rude, I know it's none of my business."

Joel and Ellie suddenly tensed up. At this moment, they both knew the mistake Ellie had just made. You didn't, of course, which was why they were concerned.

Ellie backed up softly, quickly covering up her scar. Joel shifted in his seat.

"Uh, yeah? What is it?" Ellie asked wearily.

"That scar," you said.

Ellie gulped. Joel tightened his grip on the wheel.

"You should slap some scar cream on that. Like, Mederma? Ever heard of it?"

"Mederma?" Ellie asked.

Joel let out a relieved breath. He raked his hand through his hair, self-soothingly. They were good. Thank god for your lack of social cues.

"It's, uh, a scar cream," Joel answered lowly.

"It helps, trust. Once, I was on a city bike in Miami Beach, fell right onto the concrete and ate shit. It was bad, but once that scar closed, I lathered that cream on, and that's it. Now I don't even remember where the scar is. The doctor said it was from memory loss after smacking my head on the ground, but I really think it was the Mederma. So yeah. Get some if you can," you said.

"Uh huh. Okay," Ellie said. She wasn't really listening, instead trying to relax herself from you almost finding out about what was really in Ohio (Utah). And you wanna know something? It's not Logan Paul (Mormons).

"Anyway, yeah that food? It's sushi. It's sooooo good. So good," you said, reminiscing about those rolls. "So good. So so sooooo good."

"What's sushi?"

"Anything you want it to be, honestly. But usually fish," you said.

You took a moment.

"FUCK!" you yelled again, the anger of craving sushi so animalistic, "Sorry, sorry. I just, I just really want sushi. I wish you could try it Ellie, I think you'd like it. Joel, do you like sushi?"

"Never had it."

"What?"

"I've never had it."

"How have you never had sushi?"

"I just haven't."

"Well, you should."

"I can't."

"Why not? You allergic to fish?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Cause we're in a goddamn apocalypse," he replied, this time quite irritated.

"Well, if you do, let me know. I want a piece," you said, a little sassy, looking back out the window.

He then turned to give you a hard look. It was a mix of anger and confusion, the usual.

"You know," he started, trying to think of the words, "you're weir -"

" - JOEL WATCH OUT!!!!!!!"

Joel shot his head straight forward, to see a zombie standing in the middle of the road.

BAMBOOMSD AHSDFJKASJDFKSJSKLDJFAS

He swerved, causing you're not-wearing-seatbelt-ass to slam into the passenger car door, then rag doll as you held on for dear life on the grab handles above as you flipped over and over and over and over and over and over from the sheer power and magnitude of that swerve.

BOOM CRASH BOOFS FJADSJJDASKDSAADS CRASH BOOM POPSJDKFJASFAS

"OH SHI -"

You looked like Jay Leno in that one video where the car repeatedly flips over and over, with Joel holding his arm out trying to keep you down (didn't work).

BOOM CRASH POWEBSDAJFJSAKDA BOOF BAM POWBOOMSADJF

It just kept going.

CRASHBOOM JSDHSIFHJSA CRASH SJDFLSAFDKL FLIPSD FASKJDFSSDOAFLIP SADJFKSAJFD

Kept going.

BOOM CRASHDJSAKDFJSALDJ FAS

Yo lowkey when this gonna stop?

BOOM CRASH BOOFS FJADSJJDASKDSAADS CRASH BOOM POPSJDKFJASFASSDJFSKAKDADAS.....

SJKDFASKLJDFS boom pop.....crash...

It finally stopped!

You groaned awake, feeling FUCKED up your shit was ROCKED.

"Get up! GET UP!" Joel yelled, already having been out the car with Ellie.

"Oh my god okay chill I literally just flipped?"

"It's a trap! They're raiders!"

"What -"

"TA-TATA-ATATATATATPPAPAPAATATATATTAAAA!!!!"

You rolled your eyes bro not again.

All three of you took cover behind the now dilapidated truck as the raiders shot from the other side of the road.

You weren't even scared now, just over it like? Likeeee???????

Joel started shooting back, and so did you and though your aim was pretty shit you managed to take out some of them. You found that not looking and just shooting overhead and all over the place was the best tactic! Let the bullet find its own way <3

"Oh my god, Joel, I got an idea!" you said.

"What?!" he bellowed, very busy with the whole gunfire and all.

"We should make a bomb!"

"How?!"

"Mazel tov cocktail?"

"You mean molotov?!"

"Why are you correcting me? We have to think fast not be correcting each other get your priorities straight Joel oh my god?! Am I the only one taking this seriously?!?!?"

You dropped that gun on the floor and began to craft the bomb with such efficiency and grace, you felt like a little brainiac. You thought this may have been how the Unabomber felt like if he actually succeeded. (Thank god he didn't though lol right?? btw fbi I'm not a terrorist sympathizer!!! - Sam)

Let's just say - the pressure was on! As you were crafting the bomb, shots continue to fly by overhead, blowing comically large holes in Beetlejuice-esque hair. Joel kept rushing you, which you didn't appreciate like no shit I'm trying to go fast? Why would I not be trying to go fast dumbass?

Once you finished, you lit the cloth's end and turned to Joel and threw it at him, "THINK FAST JOEL!"

He, petrified, grabbed it in midair and looked at you with a look of complete awe. And it wasn't the good kind. More a look of horror, actually. Offended horror.

"WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU THROW IT AT ME?!?!?!"

"UH, DOES IT LOOK LIKE I HAVE GOOD EYE-HAND COORDINATION?!?! YOU THROW IT!?!?!"

In disbelief, he threw the molotov on the other side of the car and took cover.

You all ducked, and you took out your Dollar Store sunnies to cover your eyes from, essentially, the war crime you've just committed.

Let's just say - Oppenheimer would've been jealous. It wasn't your first time making a molotov, but something was different in the air that day, because you pretty much made the equivalent of one atomic bomb in that little glass Jarritos bottle.

The light from the bomb was so bright, for a second's moment, everything seemed still and dead silent, muted almost, as the bright glare lit everything around you all - you all braced yourselves, readying for the sound - the boom.

And girl.

Did it boom.

"Boom," said the Jarritos bottle.

The bomb? Yeah, pretty big. The effectiveness? Yeah, pretty and literally groundbreaking. The sound? Yeah, deafening.

Shards of metal, glass, unidentifiable body parts, and other mumbo jumbo flew right past you all from behind the truck, as you all huddled together, still tense from the impact.

If it wasn't for the fact that, as previously mentioned, you were already lowkey deaf from AirPods, you'd definitely be a mute. The sound riveted through all y'all's ear drums, sprinkling in a little tinnitus behind.

You guys crept up to see the damage. You pretty much did more than enough, they all literally died. The coast was definitely clear and y'all were good to go!

You three then grabbed your bags and started to walk down the road into the city, all in a stunned silence. You weren't that stunned, really, (it wasn't your first time making bombs as you did notably do some freelance work for Escobar), but Ellie and Joel had the same look like that one pic of that thousand-yard-stare soldier.

Joel was also quite pissed off, he just had that grumpy ass face he always has, but more intense. You assumed it was cause of the whole shabackle, but couldn't understand why he didn't see a reason to smile right now like? We're literally walking alive! Yeah, walking instead of driving, but alive!

"Uh, what's with the long face girl?" you asked, trying to spread your happiness.

He didn't respond.

As you got closer to the city, your patience was running thinner. The big ass backpack you had on kept slipping cause one of the straps was fucked up, causing you to have to constantly shift it upwards. It was reallllyyyyy starting to tick you off. You felt like a middle schooler who hasn't learned it's cooler to just bring a folder and chewed up pencil to school. It was also heavy as fuck with a ton of random bullshit like Joel's Linda Ronstadt CD's and Ellie's nerd ass comic books. Look, you were all for physical media, but you were also all about setting the bag on fire and catapulting it Ancient Rome style for another raider's battle. You kept this to yourself until then, though, like mama's lil secret <3.

Now in the city, you guys took a shortcut through some random building. You weren't sure it was a smart shortcut, cause it's a random building, but you were too exhausted to really gaf and ask. Plus, Joel didn't seem in the mood. He never was.

You were all creeping through the abandoned, smelly, rotting, moldy hallways, finding out it used to be a dispensary, and thought you could find some, you know, good loot or whatever. So you mentioned to Joel and Ellie that'd you look around and split off. Joel knew you were going to look for any scraps of weed like a raccoon feign, (your blueberry vape died during the battle)

You turned a corner, into a room, then looked around carefully. The place seemed pretty empty, so your guard? Very down.

"Slippppppping I'm slippingggggg," said the bag.

"Oh. My. Fucking. God," you said through gritted teeth, feeling a rise of deep anger. You violently thrusted it back on your shoulder, sore from the weight as you turned a corner. "Fucking dumbass back pack -"

You then hit the wall, as you were too distracted and fixated on the bag.

"Oh fuck," you said, rubbing your head. You looked up.

"OH FUCK!"

It wasn't a wall, it was actually the fupa of a giant bloater. You stood, petrified, stunned - almost collapsing onto the ground from the fear that plummeted into you - you were Wendy Williams as the Statue of Liberty.

Then, it burped, just staring down at you.

"AY DIOS MIO!!!!"

Like a cartoon, you jumped in the air, turned the other way and hauled absolute ASS out of there.

"GUYS!!!! GUYS, WE GOT A FLOATER!!!!!!" you screamed, running and running, doing what you perhaps always seemed to do best.

It started to chase you, it's fee fi fo fum ass stomps echoing from behind. This was some temple run ass shit.

"Feee....Fi.....Fo.....Fummmm.....," the bloater's steps said.

You then felt that all too familiar feeling, down there. And not the good kind. You had to shit. That bloater? Yeah. Scared you so much it made your butthole say,

"I need to shit."

The anxiety of 1. a bloater, 2. your need to go shit, and 3. you not being able to locate neither Joel or Ellie, filled you with such dread. You really did now gaf.

"Feeeeee....Fiiiii.....Foooooo.....Fuuuuuummmm....."

"GUYS??!?! GUYS LIKE WHERE THE FUCK ARE Y'ALL?!?!? NO LIKE FOR REAL?!?!?!"

Every thought raced through your mind - did they die? Did they abandoned you? Or worse, did they stop somewhere to eat WITHOUT you????

"Feeeeeeeeeeee....Fiiiiiii.....Fooooooo.....Fuuuuuuuuuuummmm....."

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod," you rambled, holding one hand on your ass to keep the shit in and the other on that backpack strap.

"Slipping I'm slipping again!!!!" the bag said.

"OhmygodIHATETHISFUCKASSBACKPACK!!!!!" you screamed, then proceeded to grab it and yeet it full force at the bloater's fupa.

The power of your thrust was so monstrous it caused the bloater to fly mid-air backwards for several feet and land right through a glass window.

You didn't stop to check it out, now instead enjoying the free weight literally off your back and your faster paced running. Those Lightening McQueen Crocs were now in full force, in sports mode and ready to go. With every step, the sounds of tiny yet serious little engines squeaked out from below the heel.

You then spotted the pair, and to your relief they hadn't died, left you, or were eating. No, instead they were huddled in a corner, crouched down and holding their fingers to their mouth. It looked as though they were telling you to be quiet.

"Do you guys want me to be quiet?" you asked. At that moment, Joel's spirit died. He let his head fall in general disappointment.

Turns out, an entire group of clickers were in the room next door, overstimulated, triggered and ready to pounce, triggered from your maniacal distant screaming.

"Ohhh," you mouthed, nodding overtly your head in full understanding. You crept on over, now huddled with them.

"Where's your bag?" Ellie whispered.

"What bag?" you asked, then looking away as if disinterested. You thought the best way to explain the absence of the bag was to gaslight them into thinking there was no bag in the first place. "So what now?"

"Joel?" Ellie asked.

Joel thought for a moment. "We're going to walk across the room, quietly and slowly to the exit on the other side. No fighting, no shooting," he whispered.

"Okay lieutenant," you said, biting your tongue like a white mom. This was again your attempt at flirting but it didn't work. You really needed to better your timing.

You three began to creep down the hallway, and at first it was working great, up until two random stray clicker girls were hanging out at the exit doors.

You three stopped, Joel thought for a moment on how to handle this.

You couldn't stop. You still needed to shit, and you needed to shit now. You felt your asshole gaping for air, knowing that a fart was the last thing needed now. You held that shit in, but alas some things cannot be held in forever....

"Joel," you whispered in his ear, "I like, have to shit, bad. Like, emergency. Can we speed this up?"

He heard you and decided to ignore you.

He took out his gun, then turned to you both. "I'm gonna shoot, but then you two need to run through those doors. Don't stop and don't look back."

You two nodded.

He aimed, but at that moment, you had no control.

You couldn't hold her in anymore.

This was it.

You can't control nature's course.

You farted.

And he shoted.

But your fart was like a silencer? It worked? It was so subtle and swift, and its duration lasted long enough for two shots that the clickers took it as another one of their co-clickers farting.

The two fungi bitches dropped dead and nothing followed.

"Did you just fart?" Joel asked, breaking the silence.

"No, no - that was the bloater?" you turned behind, again using the gaslighting tactic. He looked behind, too, confused, and since you knew that bloater was probably busy reading comic books and listening to Linda Ronstadt some ways away, you thought it best to move on.

"So like we gonna go orrrr....?" you asked.

"We need to run," Joel said.

"Don't need to tell me twice!" you said before hightailing outta there, your Crocs doing wonders, and leaving them in the dust, (it was actually asbestos).

Running? Running was what you did best. It was so basic, so innate, there was really nothing to it. You always thought, had it not been for all these setbacks in your life, these side quests that just kept side questing you, you lowkey could've been a runner? Not the crackhead Flaka drug ones but, the other type of runner. But oh well c'est la vie.

You three made it out and ran for what seemed like miles and miles (it was across the street), before you stopped from the force of your imminent shit. Joel and Ellie ran past you, not waiting to save your ass, and climbed down some rubble. You tapped back in.

"Joel! JOEL!"

He turned to you, flustered and annoyed as the group of zombies echoed behind y'all like the sounds of minions.

"WHAT?!"

"I CAN'T CLIMB DOWN!"

"YES YOU CAN?!"

You looked down the rubble - you theoretically could, but didn't wanna make one wrong move and ledge your asshole open. Of course, though, you couldn't tell him that, boys aren't supposed to know that girls shit. So you hoped that maybe you acting as a girlie who needed a guy's unnecessary chivalry could so hit right now. He wasn't biting.

"WHAT?" he yelled, literally less than three feet below you.

It wasn't gonna work. The zombies incoherent ramblings grew louder and louder behind you. Looks like plan B - you needed to give him no choice.

He started to run back towards Ellie, before you stopped him.

"JOEL! CATCH MEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Like a baby who's dropped into the pool for the first time to 'learn how to swim' without any sense of physical agency or control, like a manic person running with their hands up and mouth agape, like a true damsel in distress, you hauled yourself off of that three-foot ledge, aiming for Joel's heroic yet un-consenting arms, all in a slo-mo.

Joel literally had no choice but to catch you, so he did, and your fat ass made him fall backwards onto the ground where it really fucked up his 50 year old, seniors discount breakfast-ass back.

"Oh fuck," you said, like a wounded grandma.

Joel groaned. You two looked at one another in the face, quite close, cause you were literally on top of him? Like omg this is so rom-com! Enemies to lover's type! Except you were always his enemy and you always thought he'd be your lover <3

Time stood still as you looked into one another's eyes. It was as if the whole world had stopped, and it was only you two - you inspected every wrinkle, gray hair, blackhead - he was beautiful.

"Uh, guys! We need to go?!" Ellie shouted.

"Oh shit I forgot -" you said and bounced right up, remembering your shit, and back to leaving.

You three were back to running, since it was not only your favorite activity but a common pastime in apocalyptic worlds. You were up ahead, again fueled by your natural instincts needing to shit, its adrenaline pumping through your veins as if you were the Flaka fungi people. It caused you to momentarily ponder - is the real reason why all these zombies are irritable is because they need to shit but can't, so they've been backed up for YEARS? A shiver went down your neck at just the thought.

You turned a corner between buildings, before stopping again in your tracks. A whole fucking HERD OF THEM BITCHES!!!!!!!!!!

You were frozen, petrified, stunned, silenced. Your face couldn't help but go into its natural fight or flight state - the soy face. And a mega one at that.

Joel stopped, looked at you frightened.

"What? What is it?!" he asked desperately.

But there was no time. Cause guess what? There's now bandits!!!

Then THEY started to chase you. Fuck the clickers. Fuck an iClicker!

You couldn't help but giggle. You couldn't help but be amused. Why are a bunch of bandits chasing a girl in SpongeBob shorts? Like they think you got the goods like that?! What's a girl with Spongebob shorts got? A probable yeast infection?

You didn't realize it, but your giggles were actually audible. You sounded like Pops from Regular Show.

"I'm just a girl, like whaaaaaa?" you giggled and shouted, running still. "Like, leave me alone what the fuck?!?!? This is crazy omg!!!"

Even Joel was confused, running beside you, thinking, 'why is this bitch giggling?'

Even the bandits took notice and got weirded out. So weirded out they actually stopped chasing y'all. You were treating an ambush like a frolicking sesh in the garden.

You supposed it was your brain trying to protect you, seeing that you were in actual danger of being killed. Maybe you genuinely couldn't believe it? Who knows. (I'm not a psychologist I'm sam st. Clair)

You all finally made it to a supermarket, where you boarded yourselves up once you scoped the place out. It was nighttime now, hella dark out and you couldn't guess shit where y'all were at. You just relied that Joel knew, it was your default since he's the self-proclaimed Rick of this little posse y'all got.

Anyway, you three split off, maybe because you all were tired of all the socializing you guys did back there. You didn't mind being alone, it gave you the opportunity to fart without anyone around to sniff or judge, or both. Speaking of farting, you took your shit the moment you slammed your ass on the toilet in the back, where the manager's office was. Shit was monstrous and you were sure you might've contracted some of the fungi since you were so determined to sit down that you didn't notice spores all up on the seat. But oh well. Your ass did start to itch, but you relied on your body to figure it out.

You got so bored you decided to walk up and down the smelly aisles, then found a pack of untouched, one of a kind, rare finds, vintage ZooPals. You remembered that Joel was making dinner, so thought these would be perfect!

You grabbed them fast, then went to present them to him. He was not so impressed.

"Joel, check it," you said, acting as if you were Christian Bale in American Psycho showing off your business card.

"That's extra weight," he said, dismissively and went back to cooking the beans.

"Are you kidding me?! This is some fine China right here," you protested. "Your boomer ass might be having a dementia episode or something not remembering the sheer value of what it is to eat off a ZooPal's plate."

His demeanor got sadder. You feared you might've crossed the line with the dementia comment.

"No," he mumbled solemnly. "They remind me of my daughter."

Your face dropped.

"Yikes. Sorry about that luv," (when you felt awkward you opted to go British). You then walked away. Best avoid that <3

That night you guys ate the beans and left in the morning, since Joel said apparently a supermarket isn't the best place to hide. You weren't sure why - if they carried ZooPal's, who know what else they could be hiding?

You kept walking down the street until you found a car that looked recently used. Joel tried starting it with the cables and shit whatever they do in the movies when they jumpstart a car. Red wire blue wire green fish two fish one fish blue fish.

"Can I drive?" you asked. You weren't sure what got into you, you literally don't have a license. Not that traffic violations mattered in these parts, but because you couldn't even tell left from right.

He gave you a look. "Fine."

"That was easy," you said.

As he began fixing it up, Ellie pointed to an object on the dashboard.

"What's that?" she asked.

You looked.

Oh no.

Not on my car.

"No. Not on my fucking car."

You grabbed that octopus stuffed animal dashboard bullshit, swung and threw that shit so far that it broke a nearby high-rise apartment window and exploded. It was a bomb and you inadvertently just saved everyone's life.

"How'd you know that was a bomb?" Joel asked, incredulously.

You knew the answer was that you didn't know it was a bomb, it was cause you actually hated nothing more on this earth than those octopus dashboard plushies, because every bad driver in a BMW happens to have one, so you thought you should go with the flow.

"I told you. I worked for Escobar. I can smell a bomb," you said.

"Wow. That's a crazy nose you have. It's like your superpower," Ellie said, geeking out.

"If it really was a superpower, I'd been able to stop Oppenheimer," you said.

She didn't get it.

Joel looked up, again, confused why you would say that in the first place.

"Sorry, it's before your time," you said, moving on quickly.

The car started and you three hopped in, ready to drive y'alls asses OUT OF HERE! You were excited, feeling that this was gonna be like a little roadtrip movie.

It was only two miles since you guys have driven and you had to contain your giddiness. Joel definitely wasn't happy and Ellie was to herself in the back reading her nerd ass comics. You just looked crazy laughing to yourself. You were just looking forward to the roadtrip vibes, FINALLY you guys found an actual working car so no more walking no more dilapidated backs no more annoying backpacks and oh shit there's a spider.

"OH SHIT THERE'S A SPIDER!!!" you freaked, seeing it dance slowly from the roof, hanging onto its web and literally three inches away from your face. You began to move yourself away, moving the steering wheel with it and thus moving the whole car off the road.

"Okay, calm down I got it -" Joel said.

"No Joel it's that I can't dude no Joel get it GET IT!" you demanded, feeling like an entity just possessed you with how deep and demented your voice got from the fear.

"Just keep the damn car still I can't grab it!"

He really couldn't, the more you turned the car, the more the spider swayed into your face, causing you to turn the car more and causing Joel to have trouble actually getting it. He was getting frustrated.

"Joel, we're gonna crash!" Ellie cried, trying to hide behind the seat.

The screaming and shouting also wasn't helping the vibe at all.

"I can't dude no Joel it's that I can't BRO FUCK! GET THAT BITCH!" you kept crying, "I'M NOT JOKING BRO!"

"KEEP DAMN STILL -"

Y'all crashed.

The random light post just HAPPENED to be in the way. Thankfully you guys weren't hurt, you just fucked up the car bad. And Joel was pissed. When he's mad, he's quiet. And he was QUIET.

"Well that was short," Ellie said as you three just stood looking at the demolished car. "So what now?"

The 'what now' was actually that you guys found a safe house literally less than a mile away. God finally gave y'all a little break!

It was down the road, in a little suburb. It seemed to have belonged to others, since it was all boarded up and defensed up and the only sign of life left in the house was a infected fungi girl strapped to a chair in the bedroom, placed in front of a tv screen playing a VHS tape of Friends.

You thought it best to put it out of its misery, so you turned off the tv.

You patted her on the back, caring and lovingly as she snarled at you, "No one deserves to be forced to sit and watch Friends, not even in the apocalypse."

You closed the door, leaving her at peace and again, out of her her torture.

Time passed. Joel was about to start cooking beans and Ellie left to go take a much needed power nap in the guest bedroom. You offered Joel to rest and that you'd cook instead. Little did he know how much of an exclusive this was with you, bitch you didn't cook. But you felt pretty bad for the whole spider thing and thought, hey, what's a little cooking? What's a little meal prep?

Joel said his very weary 'thanks' and went to rest on the couch, while you went into the kitchen. He looked genuinely happy to see you take the responsibility. And you were genuinely happy in other places too at the idea of you cooking for him <3 and Ellie ofc. And yourself, who could forget your fat ass?

Time passed, maybe a little too long of a time to make beans, when you had finally finished. Though you were pretty sure all the garnishes left in the kitchen were expired and no, those are not flakes of oregano but flakes of mold, they actually came out pretty good. You prepped three beautiful plates, on the fine China (ZooPal's, Ellie got the duck plate, Joel the ladybug, and you the frog), and went to push the kitchen door to present your dish as if you were battling Bobby Flay on that one kitchen show with the other woman with white hair that looks like she'd be one of the emotions from Inside Out.

"Dinner's ready! -" you said cheerily, until you realized - it wasn't just Joel who would see your dish. Not Ellie. Not even Bobby Flay - it was the raiders. Again. They were all up in your living room, def crossing the maximum capacity. They just couldn't seem to get enough of you and you didn't want to come off as narcissistic but guessed your personality had to be addictive.

You all took a minute, assessing the situation. Actually, you ALL took that minute. You just stood there, plates filled with beans, and they stood there, guns filled with bullets, with Joel and Ellie on their knees with their wrists tied behind their backs.

The silence kept going.

You just stood there.

"Wait, so -," your bimbo ass said, very Trisha-esque, not even able to come to form a conclusion. You were just so confused. "Wait -"

And there it is again.

Someone tackled you. AGAIN.

Not only did your body go flying underneath the massive weight that just sumo slammed itself into you, but so did the beans. The beans? Yeah, they were airborne. The ZooPal plates? In flight.

The mass was actually a man who was attempting to zip tie your wrists now that he had you pinned down. However, he underestimated your irritability when you were hungry.

Mama's hungry.....and mama wants her beans.....and what mama wants...........mama GETS.........

You had just about had enough.

You threw him off with such strength that could only come with a girl's rage. A rage so deep, so visceral and seemingly uncontrollable, one that could set you back on all the self-help and patience exercises that you've practiced. No. That's it. She's gonna pop, and just like the shit from earlier - some things just cannot be held in forever.

You rose up, looking briefly over at the man who's back slammed against the window, where he then tumbled and tumbled to who knows what fate, but a fate just the same as that bloater earlier.

The raiders were too aghast at your abilities.

"I just, I can't," you started, panicky. "I can't hold it in anymore."

You almost started crying from the mania. You looked very unstable, cause you were.

You took a deep breath, but knew one thing - you've been holding this anger, this wrath in for so long, now it's time for her to be released.

One of the raiders caught on and began to back up. His buddies followed, scared, almost like watching a Jack in the box as a grown adult, but that childlike fear still imprinted in your innermost being.

"Hey listen, we'll just get out of -"

" - do you KNOW HOW FUCKING HARD IT IS TO FIND ANY FOOD OUT HERE WITH NO FUCKING MOLD ON IT?! YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO COOK ROOM TEMPERATURE FUCKING BEANS ON A DINGY LAPTOP RUNNING ON SIMS 3?! IT TAKES A LONG FUCKING TIME!!!! DO YOU KNOW HOW HUNGRY I'VE BEEN?!?!?! I'M THREE DAYS LATE ON MY FUCKING PERIOD AND I'VE BEEN FEIGNING FOR SOME FUCKING BEANS!!!! BEANS, BITCH!!!! DO YOU KNOW HOW DESPERATE I'VE GOTTA BE FOR FOOD TO WANT BEANS?!?! I'M CRAVING ROOM TEMPERATURE BEANS LIKE A SOLDIER IN THE CIVIL FUCKING WAR!!!!! - (you lost them) - DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT THE FUCK THAT IS?!??! THAT'S LIKE, ONE OF THE BIG DEAL WARS!?!??! WHATEVER AND NOW MY BEANS ARE ON THE GROUND LIKE DO I LOOK LIKE TRAVIS KELCE?! DO I LOOK LIKE A BITCH TO BE TACKLED ONTO THE FUCKING GROUND??!?!! DO I HAVE A SIGN ON ME THAT SAYS I'M A QUARTER BACK?!?! NO BITCH I WANT A QUARTER POUNDER!!!! AND NOW LOOK!!! 'UH, GUYS, WE HAVE COMPANY!!!!!'"

After your spew that gave you the same catharsis akin to rapping a Nicki Minaj verse word for word, they put their hands up in surrender and backed on out, suddenly becoming overly-friendly while you followed them out to the porch. You had the same aura as a a 'get off my property or I'll shoot' type.

"Sorry for disturbing you, ma'am."

"Have a nice day, Ms., sorry about that."

"Lovely house and beans."

"Have a good day."

"Bye bye now."

"THANK YOU, YES!! FUCKING LEAVE!!!! RED-COAT, QUARTERING ASS FUGLY ASS BITCHES!! OR Y'ALL DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT IS EITHER?!?! GO FIND A BOOK ON WARS THAT DON'T INVOLVE TOILET PAPER AND LEARN ABOUT THE IMPORTANCE OF BEANS YOU FUCKING SKID MARKS!!!!"

"Great plates."

"I like what you did with your hair, ma'am. Very unique."

"AND STAY OUT!!!!!! THIS IS MY OWN PRIVATE DOMICILE AND I WILL NOT BE HARASSED!!!!!!"

You turned back around into the house, overhearing one of their conversations as they got farther and farther (not only are you partially deaf, but you have super-hearing).

"I think that's the same girl from earlier, with the weird giggles from earlier?"

"Really?"

"Yeah. The Spongebob shorts, remember?"

"Oh, fuck. You're right."

You couldn't help but not smile hard. You like, lowkey did that? No violence or anything. MLK was lowkey right.

But that smile soon fell once you got back into the house, remembering what literally just happened. Seeing your hard work splattered all over the floor was like seeing your own world end. By then, Joel was already untied and had just finished Ellie's.

"That was INSANE!" Ellie said, excitedly. "Did you see their faces?! That was so sick!"

"Thanks, Ellie. I'm lowkey gonna cry now, so those words of positive affirmation do help."

"Wait, don't," Joel said, oddly caring.

"Of course I'm gonna cry! I'M FUCKING HUNGRY oh my god what's that?"

Joel had reached into his bag, pulling out three very familiar containers.

"I'd, uh, hope we could be eatin' this, too," he said sheepishly, as he revealed they were perfect condition, ready-to-eat, beautifully displayed fat rolls of sushi.

You at the very moment became a belieber in spontaneous combustion, because you'd never been so hot so quick, it was just too hot. Joel was too hot. Sushi was too hot too, and he got you sushi?! That's like double the hot! This is Hot Ones DA BOMB!!

"Oh my god, Joel - you didn't," you held your hands to your face, in such happiness and surprise. It looked as if Joel had just proposed to you and the ring was a singular spicy tuna roll.

Joel smiled softly, a rarity around these parts. You found that glimpse of another side of him so interesting, intriguing - attractive. You always knew he was hot, and knew you wouldn't say no to your bestowed Rick, but DAMN like Kendrick's 2017 hit-album he was fine as FUCK right now.

"Contain it girl, contain it," the voices told yourself.

"How'd you get this?!" you asked, taking it as he reached them out for you. You inspected them, you weren't sure if it was because you were hallucinating from the hunger, but they looked exactly like Studio Ghibli food, your fat ass was about to feast. You felt the salivation like those rabies victims outside.

"I'm a smuggler. It's my job," he said, which you swore was flirting-ly but unfortunately didn't have any of your girls around to tell this too and get their opinion :( so you decided to live with your delusion that it was!

You wanted to kiss him so bad for that, you could've cried. And you did.

You three sat around the campfire, eating, talking, laughing, all good vibes. Ellie had finally tried sushi for the first time and loved it, as you went on to explain the days of the Barbenheimer summer. (You thought she needed to dip her toes into Oppenheimer lore somehow already.)

"Hey, sorry you guys had to see me like that," you said, finishing your roll. "I just get like, really annoyed when people stop me from eating food when I'm hungry. Like, that's me time, you know? It's personal."

"What are you talking about?! That was so good! They were shitting their pants!" asked Ellie.

"Lol me," you spat. You hoped they didn't catch that.

"You - you really scared them off there," mustered Joel, impressed.

"Thanks," you said, taking whatever compliment that man could give to heart.

"If only we had you during our shootout, back at the Target," Joel said. "I thought you were a runner, first time I saw you."

"Why's that?"

"You had all that," he motioned to his face, "red stuff, all on your mouth and chin. Thought it was blood."

"Oh, that was Chef Boyardee! You know him?"

Did he know him.

Did he know him?

Girl he was a single father once of course he knew him.

And what else did he know?

He knew he was in love with you, in love with Y/N...

"I, uh, love -"

"- Joel loves Chef Boyardee. He got all excited when he found a can, once," Ellie said, interrupting him.

"Because that's what the Chef intended with his creation," you said, not really one hundred percent sure what that meant. And neither did Joel or Ellie. Anyway,

Time passed, you guys cleaned up and Ellie had gone to sleep.

You and Joel were sat on the swinging bench on the porch outside, passing your blueberry fume back and forth like a blunt (it actually wasn't dead, contrary to popular belief). He wasn't really a fan, but didn't want to tell you no.

You'd been out for some time, enjoying the warm (lowkey hot) breeze and of course, Joel's company. He was a man of few words, unfortunately, but it did make him hotter. Like, why so mysterious?

"So how'd you really get that sushi?" you asked, after some unimportant small talk.

"When we were at the supermarket," he said. "Wanted to surprise you."

"That's so hot," you said immediately.

"What?"

"It's so hot right now, that's what I meant," you spat and took your fume from him, taking in an unnecessarily giant hit.

"Well, wanna go back inside?"

"Nah."

"Okay?"

Another silence.

"You know, I wanted to uh, thank you, for being nice with Ellie and all," he said, "it's uh, it's nice."

"No probs. She's funny. Reminds me of a younger TikTok-obsessed cousin, you know? The kind you're excited to see on Christmas?"

"Yeah, yeah. I understand," he said. He didn't.

The silence continued. And you had to admit, it was getting awkward. Something needed to happen. And your pervert mind knew what would be perfect right now -

" - My daughter loved Chef Boyardee," Joel then said, really out of nowhere.

You turned to him. For a moment, you genuinely forgot he had a daughter. You didn't really like comforting people when you were horned up, but there was no escaping this. Who knows if he's ever said this before? Maybe you're the one - the special one - that gets to hear this exclusive tidbit. So you complied. Sometimes people needed a shoulder to lean on, so you decided right there and then, (and apparently Joel too), that you'd be that shoulder...

"That's crazy," you said. So little words, yet so much meaning.

"It is," he said, smoking the fume.

"My ex-sugar daddy, the guy that I told you about, do you remember?" you asked, he nodded his head. He did remember. "Well, yeah, he actually had a health scare once. Chef Boyardee, specifically the ravioli, was all he ate when he was separated from his wife. She used to cook all these real pasta dishes, so when he was living on his own he was pretty much incapable of cooking anything besides a bowl of cereal. He just ate Chef Boyardee ravioli all day and his cholesterol went up. It was crazy."

"Huh."

"Yeah. And it was kinda weird, you know, because he was Italian. I didn't think Italians accepted the Chef as one of their own."

"I guess he did."

"Yeah. I miss him."

Joel turned to you.

You realized your mistake. You DON'T bring up an ex on the first date hello?!?! HELLO (@ALL THE BOYS IN THE WORLD HELLO?!?!?!)

"I mean, I miss the old world, you know. Like, how you miss your daughter," you explained. "Association and all."

"I'm sorry if I'm a little, you know," he said, "If I don't come off very - personable. You've, uh, been a great help to us both. To me."

"Of course! It's okay. It's kinda hard to keep manners going when more than half of the population are demented cannibals and the other wanna rob you all the time."

You both smiled softly. You provided him the warmth he needed, the warmth that could always greet him at the end of the day, reminding him that there's always room for warmth. You are his sun, his warmth. You're his heating pad, the warmth of a heating pad.

"I don't, I don't say this much. Not at all, actually, not until you brought up the 'association' thing, but - you remind me of the old world," he said.

Your ass couldn't help but smile.

"Oh my god Joel that's like so sweet!" you said, before jumping on him to give him a big hug! He hugged tightly back, he then threw you back on the bench and you felt his member pressed against your leg. He then began kissing you, his tongue licking your lips for entrance. You let him in. Your tongues fought for dominance but you let him win. He eventually started going down on you, taking your "I <3 ORLANDO" Spongebob-themed PJ shorts off, and started kissing your labia.

"This...this is a labia," he said, his southern drawl coming out in full force.

"Oh my god this is just like my fic!"

"What?"

"Nothing!"

You lifted your legs as he began to eat you out, his wet breath on your cooter. He held your foot up and raised himself, ready to press his member into your entrance. Your eyes were closed, ready to take the man from Austin, Texas in. This is it. No Flaka girls, no fungus-infested toilets, no Chef Boyardee-obsessed raiders, nothing - just you and Joel.

Hope you enjoyed!

xoxo,

~Sam St. Clair

P.S. - I'm not actually dead! I've been in hospital. So, almost. I've now learned that sanding your tires down to make them look cleaner and smoother and prettier is actually quite dangerous.

xoxo, again,

~Sam St. Clair

[lilacsbeeswax]

happy birthday to your account!! for your writing event, can I please have Lilies 🌺 with work song by hozier and sirius black? thank you🖤

Work Song

Part of my 2 year milestone event!

MASTERLIST

——-

Boys, workin' on empty

Is that the kinda way to face the burning heat?

I just think about my baby

I'm so full of love I could barely eat

Work, work, and work Sirius swore these days it’s all that he did. Back when his dream of running his own tattoo shop was nothing but that he had had no idea what it would entail.

For the past week, he had been clogged with appointments. So many people had wanted custom tattoos, so he was drawing constantly. Then, it came to actually doing the pre booked tattoos which could take hours. As well as, walk ins that paid well, but took just as much time. Even when sharing the work load with James it was hard. Remus was out on vacation meaning Sirius had to take over bookkeeping and running the business. He swore he’d never have to do math, but there he was doing basic algebra at 8 am.

In short, Sirius was absolutely swamped. He had even been sleeping (albeit only a few hours) at the shop. His overfull mind only becoming more painful in the hours away from her.

Her. His only paradise. His pretty baby. The only girl for him.

He got small tastes of Y/n throughout the day, but it didn’t satiate his desire for her. Everyday at 11:30 am, she would bring him lunch during her break at her own job. She could be doing anything else, but she wanted to spend her rest time on him. Sirius loved it so much he felt sick. Often, he would be thinking about her so much that he wouldn’t be able to eat. He was unable to stomach the sweetness that he felt he never deserved.

There's nothing sweeter than my baby

I'd never want once from the cherry tree

'Cause my baby's sweet as can be

She give me toothaches just from kissin' me

Sirius walked into the apartment on Saturday night exhausted. Y/n called out to him, “Siri? Is that you?”

He didn’t respond quietly slipping off his shoes and coat. She turned the corner, running up to him and nearly sliding on the laminate floor. She wrapped her arms around him, placing her forehead on his.

“Hey baby,” Sirius sighed. “I missed you.”

She leaned away and smiled at him. That sweet smile that made him feel like he was going to faint. “I missed you more!”

Sirius moved to brush a thumb against her lips relishing in everything about her, before his gently pulled her into a kiss. It was soft and sweet and if he didn’t know better, Sirius would suspect he was going into cardiac arrest.

Boys, when my baby found me

I was three days on a drunken sin

I woke with her walls around me

Nothin' in her room but an empty crib

And I was burnin' up a fever

I didn't care much how long I lived

But I swear I thought I dreamed her

She never asked me once about the wrong I did

Y/n and Sirius had met many years ago, back when he was a self-described man whore and carried way too much trauma to hold on his own.

He had been a mess. Drinking constantly, using, and not being able to hold a stable job. Despite all of his problems, she had pulled him up and out of it.

Sirius had lost yet another job the day he had started that fateful drunken binge. Maybe, it was the cheap vodka or the combination of it and the weed, but he had called her.

When she arrived at his place after a very concerning phone call, you had found him on the floor half dead. From then on she never stopped taking care of him. She never asked what really happened.

My babe would never fret none

About what my hands and my body done

If the Lord don't forgive me

I'd still have my baby and my babe would have me

When I was kissing on my baby

And she put her love down soft and sweet

In the low lamplight I was free

Heaven and hell were words to me

Y/n and Sirius got ready for bed and laid down on their soft shared mattress for the first time in what felt like weeks.

She ran her fingers over his scarred up arms and chest. She kissed his lips, while caressing the marred skin. Sirius pulled away and kissed down her neck, nipping at all of the places he knew she liked. Out of the corner of his eye he could see her smiling under the dim lamp light.

“Fucking hell, you’re heaven.” He chuckled, saying a word between every soft peck of her neck.

“I could say the same about you, Siri.” She giggled, pulling him close to her, not planning on letting go anytime soon.

When my time comes around

Lay me gently in the cold, dark earth

No grave can hold my body down

I'll crawl home to her

Lying there wrapped around the love of his life, Sirius couldn’t help but smile, knowing no one and nothing could take him away from his baby.

MASTERLIST

[junnieverse]

9:37 am ➳ S. HANBIN

➙ synopsis: mornings with your boyfriend

Hanbin

pairings: sung hanbin x gn!reader

genre: teeth rotting fluff

word count: 0.7k

warnings: not proofread so there might be typos. prepare to melt because this was too cute.

a/n: hello my angels! here's a little something new for you guys to read, my writing is a little rusty since it's been awhile but it feels great to get back at it after so long. I didn't know whether to make this a headcannon or timestamp and in the end it was the latter. :)

You're soon woken up feeling the light from the morning sun peeping through the window introducing yet another sunny summer day and you couldn't help to think what better way to spend it than with with your boyfriend Hanbin.

You both had been working tirelessly the entire week and the night before you dedicated the evening to binge watching your favourite shows and movies while snuggled up to each other.

Twisting yourself to turn to the other side of the bed which your boyfriend usually occupies, you're met with an empty bedside with nothing but his pillow and scrunched up sheets.

Looking around the room in confusion, you're left worried not knowing where Hanbin could be considering as far as you were concerned, he wouldn't be working today and even if he was going to go somewhere without saying anything, he would've left you a message or stuck a note on the pillow before leaving.

You're soon pulled out of your thoughts as a pan hitting against another pot is heard and Hanbin's cooking playlist is playing.

Quickly putting on a hoodie, you make your way to the kitchen as the relaxing music fills your ears and the light scent of coffee and bacon hits your nose.

Standing by the door, you can't help but admire Hanbin's figure as his back faces you, too focused on cooking to have noticed your arrival and it's moments like this where you thank the universe for such a perfect boyfriend.

Making your way up to him, you gently wrap your arms around his waist, feeling him slightly jump in suprise but he soon lets out his cute laugh enjoying your affection as you engulf him in a back hug.

"Well good morning to you my love," he says glancing behind at you as he continues to cook with you holding onto him.

"Good morning," you mumble tiredly as you shut your eyes enjoying just staying close to your boyfriend.

"Breakfast is almost ready so you can go take a seat by the island and your boyfriend will be serving you soon," he soon responds adding the pancakes to the plate.

You then let go of his figure but just as you do, Hanbin turns around to face you engulfing you in another tight hug before he places a soft kiss to your forehead.

"You look pretty," he compliments showing his whisker smile.

Looking at him, you immediately break eye contact feeling shy at his sudden compliment.

No matter how long you've been dating Hanbin, he always found a way to bring back the butterflies in your stomach and make you blush and smile like a madman.

Taking a seat by the island bar stool, you continue to silently admire your boyfriend who was making breakfast.

Before you knew it, he was in front of you with a cup of coffee that not only smelt like heaven but you knew it tasted just as amazing.

His mom owning a cafe and him having worked part time there as a barista and earning his license to be one meant Hanbin knew alot about how to make a good beverage and he knew exactly how to make you a good drink with a cutely designed heart in the foam.

Placing the food down on the counter, Hanbin quickly grabs the necessary utensils making sure to cut a peace of the pancake he made, dipping it in some syrup and brings it to your mouth.

At this gesture you lean in closer to try the food as it melts on your palette leaving you feeling a sense of peace.

"This is amazing," you say and Hanbin can't help but smile as you compliment his food and he feels proud for being able to satisfy your taste buds.

Taking a seat beside you, Hanbin begins to eat his own food as he tells you about his members crazy antics from the day before when he found Gyuvin and Yujin in a box.

Knowing the two boys, you knew it was better not to ask about that madness.

At some point everything else he said became a blur as you simply took the time to admire how the sun coming through the kitchen window was hitting his skin making him glow especially more and his laughter was music to your ears.

Everything about this moment was perfect, nothing felt more special than being able to spend a relaxing morning with breakfast being served to you and the great company of your boyfriend Hanbin.

Those were your favourite mornings.

[mangoshorthand]

Hello, I wasn't sure if you weren't taking requests or not but I didn't see anything saying you weren't so if your not ignore this pls :) But if you are I had an idea for five x yn in an established relationship where five finds out for the first time that reader is really ticklish and it's really fluffy and cute. Thank you

Oh...um this is my first request...Yeah, I guess I'll consider requests on a case-by-case basis. Maybe less fluffy than you'd hoped for but, then again, I am a smut author so old habits die hard. I tried my best I promise. 🥺

Tickle War | Five Hargreeves / GN Reader Words: 1.5k

Five had a number of bad habits: his tendencies to obsess, binge drink and snap at his siblings were the worst. These, when unchecked, were real character flaws. You tolerated these as far as was reasonable and he gave you the same benefit for the character flaws you swore up and down you didn't have. After all, when you love someone, you love them warts and all. But not all of Five’s bad habits were flaws: some just skirted the border between endearing and annoying. 

For example, despite always placing his shoes exactly adjacent to one another, (toes facing the wall, laces tucked in), somehow his socks never seemed to find their way into the laundry hamper. Instead, you’d unearth them from odd places: stuffed down the side of the couch, under the dining table and once, (somehow), in a kitchen cupboard. 

He also had a teasing side which would be unsuspected by anyone who knew him outside the context of a romantic relationship. He took a mischievous, slightly sadistic pleasure in messing with you. This, in certain contexts, was a huge plus, but his love of using his power to sneak up on you was often less attractive. 

On one such occasion, you emerged from a shower and had just finished wrapping a towel around yourself when, from behind you, a single finger swept rapidly from your collarbone, up your neck and finished behind your ear. You jumped, pulling away immediately, snorting with laughter and retreating into yourself like a snail into their shell.

“Five!” you said, indignantly, re-wrapping the towel. You straightened up and tried to retain a sense of dignity, “You scared me.”

He chuckled and placed a hand on each side of your waist. Pressing himself up against you, he murmured into your ear, lips brushing you gently. 

“That was interesting.”

“What, asshole?” you said, belying your words by leaning backwards into his touch and laying your head on his shoulder.

“You’re…ticklish,” he whispered. 

And suddenly his fingers were wriggling against your ribs, feather light but merciless. You bent, trying to force him away with your ass but he held you fast. You were laughing helplessly, writhing in his arms. 

“Stop it!” you wheezed out.

“No,” he said, and you could hear the evil smile in his voice. “Not until you admit that you’re ticklish.”

He upped the intensity, capturing you under the arms, the sides of the neck and the stomach, you folding into yourself to get away from him each time, but still held too tightly to effect full escape. He was tickling you too much for you to be able to speak and was clearly fully aware of the fact- doing it deliberately. All your nerves were on fire. His words, between quiet laughter of his own, were still spoken into your ear in a way that was ticklish itself. “I don't hear you.”

“F-fuck you,” you wheezed between attacks of giggles.

He kissed your neck and slowed down, though still tickling you enough to keep you on the edge of breathlessness. At some point in all that struggle, you dropped the towel and now his fingers were skating across bare skin.

“I’m obviously ticklish!” you said, with annoyance you didn’t really feel, “So stop.”

He obeyed, arms crossed over your stomach still holding you in place and body swaying slightly, bringing yours along with it. He nuzzled at your neck affectionately, but your skin was overstimulated and spread heavily with gooseflesh, so even these touches unintentionally made you cringe away with a little squeak.

He laughed softly, clearly unable to resist this level of sensitivity. 

“So ticklish.”

With a flash of light and a nauseous turn of your stomach, you were lying flat on your bed with him sitting astride you. The colder air outside of the steamy bathroom gave you a sudden chill.

He’d been dressed for most of the day in a suit, having spent a portion of the day at Commission HQ where, with Herb’s (rather coerced) permission, he’d been permitted to dismantle part of the infinite switch board to determine how it operated. Since getting home though, he’d stripped off his jacket, tie and waistcoat so that now he sat on top of you with his shirtsleeves rolled to the elbow. His socks, thankfully, were still on. This gave them half a chance of at least ending up near the laundry hamper, rather than in the microwave or god-knew-where. It was the first time you’d seen his face since he made his discovery regarding your ticklishness and (no surprises) he looked like the cat who got the cream. He looked down at you, hair partially shielding his eyes with a smile that showed all his teeth.  Though he may physically appear to be in his early twenties, he rarely looks like it to you. Often, you don’t really think about it, Five is just Five. RIght now, however, he looks younger than you’ve ever seen him. Like one of those shit-eating boys in the schoolyard who used to tease you instead of asking you on a date.

He raised his eyebrows, his smile turning into a satisfied smirk as he noted you getting tenser in anticipation of his attack. You smiled then, unable to help it: seeing his eyes gleam that way at your expense should irritate you, but instead it made you feel gooey inside. Not for the first time, you mentally scolded yourself for the shit he got away with just by giving you a look like that. 

His eyes softened and he leaned forward, slowly laying his body against yours: inch by inch and fraction by fraction until your torsos were pressed together. Eyes locked on his, he brushed his nose against yours and kissed your mouth gently. He didn’t try to deepen the kiss, just pecked at your lips sweetly with his own. 

“Love you,” he whispered against your mouth. 

“You too,” you replied, petting his back in long, lazy caresses down his spine. 

His cheek came to rest against your shoulder, the perfect curve of his jawline fitting exactly above your collarbone. He was relaxed, content and blissfully warm against your cold body. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly into your ear. Even his breath was warming. Your arms wrapped around him automatically, one resting over his shoulder blades and the other on his head. Your fingers laced themselves in his hair, stroking and kneading the soft, dark locks. With every movement of your hand, you could smell his shampoo. 

After a minute or so, the urge to give him a taste of his own medicine overtook your affection. Gradually, you felt your own evil smile curling your lips as, under the guise of stroking him, you positioned your hands: one on his neck and one in his armpit. Ready, you waited until his breathing was particularly slow and deep.

When you tickled him, he responded only by tensing up slightly. 

“Nice try,” he said, opening his eyes and sitting up again. He looked down at you with a look of fond pity, “but you see, I've got a modicum of self control.”

You huffed out a sigh. Of course he wouldn't be ticklish. Now you didn’t even have the threat of mutually assured destruction on your side.

“At least I've got self control when there’s a bottle of bourbon concerned,” you said, giving him a sarcastic smile. 

He gave a small disbelieving scoff at your cheek. 

“Oh, okay,” he said, “we’re going there, are we? You're gonna regret that, darling.”

And then he grinned again, clearly thankful for a decent excuse to exact ‘revenge’. Quick as a flash, he positioned his hands beneath your armpits so that you couldn't remove them. 

“So,” he continued, eyes flashing, “let’s see how long you  can stand it without moving or laughing.”

“Five…” you whined, but he only grinned more broadly and began to lightly tickle you again.

Again, your body lit up with confusing signals. You breathed through it as best you could, trying hard to keep yourself still but wanting to kick out, struggle and writhe. You kept your eyes locked on his, willing yourself not to give in. 

“Hm,” he said, approvingly, “well done.”

And then he skimmed his fingers down to your ribs. You bucked and suppressed a squeak, but it was too much: soon you were laughing and wriggling. He laughed and shook his head, even as he had you laughing painfully.

“That’s goddamn pathetic.” he said, looking down at you with amused disappointment, “Can’t even keep still?"

“S-stop i-t, asshole!” you laughed.

“What was that?” he said, leaning in and cocking his head, “I don’t understand you.”

“D-dickhead.”

He stopped then and again leaned forward, this time kissing your cheek. His pupils were slightly dilated as he did so, green obscured by black. You noticed he was breathing a little harder than usual.

“Is this… turning you on?” you asked, laughing in disbelief now.  “No, of course not,” he said eyebrows raised again, “why would you, lying there helpless between my thighs, turn me on? You have the weirdest ideas.”

You laugh, and again he rests his head on you.

“Tickle war’s over now.” he murmured.

“That wasn’t a war,” you said, “that was an act of aggression.”

“You loved it,” he sniggered, pressing kiss after kiss to your shoulder, occasionally grazing it with his teeth. 

He was right: you did.  Megalist

Request info + rules

NOTE:

I take Five requests, I'm fairly versatile in what I write (fluff, smut, angst, psychological character study- I'll try it all) but I will consider them on a case by case basis. See request info + rules for request status and more.

[lady-of-ocs]

What's up Haikyuu Girlies

So, it's certainly been a day. What's up, tumblr?

I needed some happy chemicals in my brain so I watched the only English dub Haikyuu thing I could find (I am still anxiously searching for all four seasons because I know they exist, they just aren't on Netflix anymore), which was The Dumpster Battle movie. You could say I'm a fan.

I accidentally went on a tangent so I'll put a cut in here lmao

I have fairly limited knowledge of the characters because I've only really seen clips and scrolled through fanart and fics, but I am very attached to Kenma. That's my little guy. I adore him. He's such a scheming little punk <3 But anyway, he was a big part of why I enjoyed the movie. I loved his relationship with Kuroo (and I love Kuroo in general. New husband alert fr fr) and how motivated he is by Hinata. I feel like I got to see him grow just within the span of the movie (I was dancing around my room when he said he was having fun. So precious). He's also just so smart and getting to see his POV was cool as hell (I do see what people meant about the literal POV scene making them feel vaguely nauseous, though). I had seen fanart of the "thank you for teaching me to play volleyball scene" but seening the scene itself made me all emotional. Kuroo is literally me in this scene.

I have even more limited knowledge of Nekoma specifically and I'm really only familiar with Kenma (obviously), Kuroo, and a little bit of Lev and Yaku. I could sit here and type up an essay about Kenma in this movie but I won't because my stomach hurts.

So let me yap about Karasuno instead. Even as someone who hasn't watched the show in full, I am obsessed with them. Tsukki and Yamaguchi? I love them. Their small little moment in this movie made me so happy (you might find me on my other account gushing about them under fanart). Yes, I do like Tsukkiyama. And let the record show that I'm also a fan of Kuroken (what do you mean you fell for his flattery, Kenma??!!). Are you sensing a pattern? Can you tell I like childhood friends (or just friends) to lovers? Good! Tsukki didn't get a lot of moments in this movie but I really enjoyed the few he had. That's my favorite tall blonde, no I don't take criticism. I wish Yamaguchi got more time, but when you're trying to fit everything into a single hour and a half movie, some characters are bound to be pushed aside. I don't think Kiyoko even spoke in this movie and neither did any of those three second years that I can never remember the names of. Daichi, I loved you despite how few moments you had (affectionate bro hug with Kuroo at the end surprised and delighted me). I will enjoy you even more when I actually get the chance to sit and binge this show. SUGA!!!! SUGA IS MAMA! I FUCKING LOVE SUGA. He also didn't get a lot of time in the movie but he used his time well. I love this man. The mother of all time. Nishinoya and Asahi are another favorite duo of mine. I know bits of their relationship and history and it makes me weep. Someone hold my little Asanoya heart. Special Yachi shoutout because she's braver than I am. That ball went right past her face and I swear she didn't even flinch. Absolute queen shit right there. Bonus shoutout to Bokuto and Akaashi, who I like very much. Bokuto is a complete dumbass and I love him for it.

AND OF COURSE, you can't talk about Haikyuu or this movie without bringing up Hinata and Kageyama. LOOK AT THAT LITTLE BABY CROW FLY. LOOK HOW MUCH TRUST THERE IS. I LOVE THESE STUPID KIDS! I feel like a proud mama, they did so well. Also Hinata is also stronger than me because Kenma was putting him through the wringer and I'd have cried in the middle of the court. But Karasuno adapted and they flew! My amazing crows!!! Kageyama can't take a compliment and that's adorable. Bend down here you giant, I'm going to pinch your cheeks and coo at you.

But I don't think I'm saying anything that hasn't been said before (though I do have the weird perspective of this being the only content for it I've watched in full because my stupid ass doesn't enjoy subs as much-though I'll watch them if there's no other option, i.e. a lot of the movies won't have dubs at all or they just won't be offered, so I tend to watch those subbed) and I've been yapping for a while. So long that my laptop fucking died on me!

But anyway, if anyone wants to A. inform me of a good place to watch the dubbed show, or B. just chat Haikyuu with me, feel free to say something in the comments! And once again, I'm so sorry for whatever the hell this is.

[theropoda]

...... i have. PRAWBLEMS. with the ending but honestly i felt very unwell and gross rn so i had difficulty focusing in the first place, maybe if i watch it again when i feel better ill feel different. under read more bc this got long lol

disclaimer before anyone GETS at me: i am not a critic. im literally just some guy watching a tv show, and i am really more confused than anything so if you really enjoyed the finale and feel like it was the perfect way for the show to end im happy for you! i don't have any intent on arguing it Absolutely Wasn't. this isn't a Hatepost. just me airing my thoughts. that are probably really incoherent bc again, i feel unwell ;_; brain is more focused on my stomach than this damn show

i knew how this was gonna end, i did watch the end of this show before, ive always been familiar w house because i watched episodes of it on tv as a kid with my mom and sister and knew major plot points like amber's death and wilson's cancer and house faking his death and everything but. the details were lost on me. now that i know the details something about them just doesn't jive with me and feel right.

probably related to my earlier post about how even in the final season so much of house is the same. he tried to change for the better but he was still back. i mean the entire premise of the show is about "the disabled addict doctor who struggles to be a person" so if any of these magically stopped being there that'd be stupid ESPECIALLY him being a disabled addict which are so central to his character. so im definitely not complaining about that.

initially i thought him faking his death was insanely reckless but what other choice was available. if he went, Hey, im here! im alive he'd absolutely be going to jail. in jail so far away while his best friend, maybe his only friend would be dying alone. of course he did that. his only choice was ttofake his death to be with wilson. throwing away his whole life and legacy and career and reputation to be with him.

hilson endgame real but also, while watching the whole show i kept going from "tumblr didn't lie these guys are gay" to "Tumblr may have oversold it a bit". but that might just be in the nature of its episodic structure. not e everything is abt wilson there's other people in house's lofe but in that final season everything does speed up, suddenly and become about wilson. which brings me to the whole cancer thing. in my memory of the show from watching it as a kid, Wilson's cancer came up as a plot point WAY earlier and there is much more time to discuss it in the show. to ponder and delve into it, what it means for wilson, for house, for the show. but actually watching the show it feels very sudden....! i felt like the entire cancer thing, which plays so damn heavily into the SERIES FINALE, wasn't explored enough...? it felt rushed. but it might feel like it because well there's a difference between watching a show as it comes out on a schedule vs binge watching it on demand.

and another thing that irked me is- but this is more of a "this personally makes me Feel Sad and Weird" as opposed to genuine criticism is how EVERYONE thinks house is dead except Two People. that's crazy. i have a Thing for closure and knowing things, the truth, im a little paranoid about that, but it just feels insane to me that house's own parents, family, former and current colleges, lovers, everyone... they all think he's dead when he's not. i see how that is, in terms of the Narrative, a good thing? house is truly FREE now. and if other people knew they'd probably call the police. but also that's just kinda horrifying.... I don't know. idk. also wtf cuddy wasn't there at the funeral? D: obviously i know how their last meeting went but they were such big part of each other's lives im rlly shocked she wasn't there! or even showed up at ALL in the ending scene where we see where everyone's life has headed, a little scene of her, Rachel, and someone new

and also. ._. how did that fire even start in the first place?..... did i miss something....? uaaaaah. i should watch it again

ugh but despite my peeves. i want to pass this off as Just another show ive watched, time to move on to the next, because a big part of the reason i started house and kept going and even chose to watch it at the times i did was because i have been going through some rough shit mentally for the past. entire year plus. i have relied on it to keep me distracted. i want to just move onto the next distraction but i have become so attached, it's hard to not feel :/ and :( about 1) the fact it's over now 2) it ended in a way that makes me feel funny, and not in a good way. aaaahhhhh.

[bunnieclit]

idk what else to say besides life's been fucking my fat ass lately 😻

butttt my sons been doing amazing and gaining more weighttt (he's completely fine dw just born 2 weeks before my expected due date so lil mans a tad bit below average on his body weight)

so lil update

lost 4 pounds that's it😭 since having my baby im always so hungry ive binged three times since having him and literally never feel full after ik i gotta fast to shrink my stomach back down but my bf is so persistent about me eating especially at dinner he's completely caught on to the fact that i have a problem we've gotten into several arguments recently over food around me not eating/not eating enough but i am trying harder than ever to focus on my health my mindset has changed a lot since becoming a mother of course i want to be thin again but not more than i want to be alive which is new lmaoooo

sooooo srry 4 the rant but i gotta get this shit off my mind

i feel so alone and empty when i'm home alone sooooo almost all day every day ik i gotta learn how to drive so i can have some sort of life outside of my room i sit here and just overanalyze all my relationships and every lil interaction with my bf i feel so bad bc he works sm and comes home excited to see me and the bby and im so bitter and cold for lik the first 30 minutes then snap out of it cuz literally WTF i wait around for him to get home lik a dog and by the time he gets here im in a terrible mood and for whatttttt he's so good to me and understanding :( im trying so hard to be better for him the last thing i ever want to do is push him away from me he's my world

i had a full blown breakdown on sunday when my family came to visit our bby but thank godddd i sped off to the garage before they noticed anything was wrong but me it's just since having the baby i can't even stand the way i look

me and my bf do this bs were we take pictures of each other naked looking stupid and it's never bothered me b4 we always send them back and forth when he's working but he took one on saturday and the second i saw it i wanted to puke i didn't even recognize myself i looked disgusting but i didn't make a big deal about it until sunday

it was all I could think about throughout the day i kept going back and just staring at the picture so by the time he got home i was so hurt i barely talked to him when my family got there he was being extremely standoffish and wouldn't even come into the living room where we all were which is extremely unlike him so i went over there to apologize and ask him if he was mad at me

ofc cuz he's the best bf told me no he's just confused and doesn't know why i'm acting like that i completely brokedown sobbing telling him about how the picture made me feel and i know he didn't mean any harm by it but that i just hate myself sm and don't know how he could love me looking like this but he's ofc so reassuring and supportive i felt so much better afterwards

he's way older than me so he's extremely against plastic surgery but told me last night that after we have our second child he will pay for me to get a tummy tuck bc he can't stand to see how my body is affecting me anymore

likk thank you sirrrrrr😻

[siriannatan]

Mad Dog

I went through my pile of started fic and decided to drop some so here's one old idea. Named after a certain sussy manhwa I binged the day before writing this, that would refuse to leave my brain.

fWhip never wanted anything to do with the other side of the family business. Being the future CEO of a construction company that was the face of a mob group was enough for him. He didn't have to know what Gem and her goons got up to.

But unfortunately, the other side didn't intend to stay away from him. This is why he got kidnapped by a rival mob group on his way back to his cosy little luxury apartment from an evening study session at the university library.

Sadly he was fully recognisable as the younger twin of the current head of the Wither-Rose family. He should have agreed when Gem tried to force a bodyguard on him.

But now it was too late. Now his hands were tied behind his back. He was lying on a filthy floor. And had a massive headache.

“Oi, Boss the brat is awake,” one of the goons quickly realised he was awake. And dragged him to sit up. It wasn't any better than lying on the floor.

“Who would have thought that woman's twin could be this cute,” a man who fWhip assumed to be the boss chuckled. “We just might get some use out of you after this,” he sneered and other goons snickered.

There were about five of them if none were hiding on the corners. Even if there were not more it was too much for him to deal with alone even without his hands being bound. He could just hope someone shows up…

“Man you're ugly,” fWhip grimaced. Was it smart to poke at a likely armed group of gangsters? Probably not but fWhip was more than a little bit annoyed at this point.

“You little… not like your face needs to be unharmed anyway,” the man sneered and slapped fWhip hard. 

“Idiot,” fWhip chuckled. “I know absolutely nothing about what my sister is doing so you're just wasting time,” he glared at the man.

“Well, we can still have you beg her to come and save you,” the man smirked as one goon pulled out a camera.

fWhip grimaced. “Yeah, sorry, not happening,” he grinned, not caring anymore.

He was about to be slapped again when there was suddenly a knock at the door.

“Who the hell, I told them to not .. Ugh, go check which idiot is interrupting us,” the boss waved a goon at the door.

“Who is it?” The goon asked.

“Scott Major, twenty-eight. There isn't much I like but I hate boring idiots. Do I have to tell you about my hobbies too?”

“Which punk is…” he goon pulled the door open and quickly crumbled down, red pooling around his head.   And possibly the most handsome man fWhip ever saw walked in. Decently tall. Pretty face with no obvious scars. Bored blue eyes. Combed back cyan hair.  Dressed in black slacks and blazer with dark grey turtleneck underneath. “If someone knocks politely you should open the door, no?” He asked, twirling a knife in one hand. Of course, he was a damn gangster.

Did Gem send him? Floated through fWhip's head. And was he planning to go alone against five guys? 

“You're so hard to meet, young master,” he grinned at fWhip and no longer looked bored. Just excited.

“I know you,” the boss hissed glaring at the man, Scott, from next to fWhip. “Miss Gem's mad dog. What are you idiots spacing out for, get rid of him,” he ordered.

fWhip watched in a mix of terror and shock as Scott easily dodged attacks from the three goons. One got stabbed in the stomach and used as a shield against the second. Who got stabbed in the neck. Fourth got a knife up his head, just behind his jaw.

Even if he was shocked fWhip realised the boss would likely try to use him as a shield. So he got up and dashed away, just by pure coincidence towards Scott.

“Good job, young master,” Scott praised as he held fWhip in one arm. Other likely a course of the now too-familiar noise of a human getting stabbed. Why did Gem send someone who enjoyed this so much?

fWhip wished it was a dream. But the stench of blood in the air was too obvious. And Scott's arm was still firmly wrapped around his waist even when he cut the tape binding fWhip's arms and he steadied himself.

“I don't mind you staying in my arms,” Scott whispered into fWhip's ear. “I hope you don't mind I'm turned on right now. Usually, I'm more in control but with your pretty face? Impossible,” Scott hummed right into fWhip's ear.

That was, obviously, too much for fWhip so he forced himself out of this bastard's arms and stumbled over someone's leg. A corpse. fWhip crawled back, holding in the urge to vomit. He really hated this.

“And here I was looking forward to meeting Madam President’s little brother,” Scott sighed, lighting a cigarette (a/n cigarettes are bad but this is for the sake of the setting).

fWhip didn't like Scott's eyes anymore. They felt like he could see inside his brain. Like he already knew everything about him. Like he was being hunted. About to be devoured.

At least he didn't have to be alone with Scott for long as the clean-up crew arrived just in time.

“Man, Scott you made quite a mess here,” one gangster whistled as he walked in. Followed by a couple more.

“The Director told me to save her brother, so I did just that,” Scott shrugged as yet another person checked fWhip's face for damage.

As they did Scott seemed to grow bored again and started to leave. “See you again young master,” he grinned at fWhip before fully leaving.

Yeah, right, never. fWhip thought as he walked out to a car with tinted windows. Gem wanted to see him. Obviously. And would likely assign him a bodyguard whether he liked it or not.

Hopefully, it would be someone at least a bit normal. Unlike Scott. That guy was just a disaster waiting to happen. A ticking time bomb.

He never wanted to set foot in the crime side’s main building ever again. Especially as he stood in front of Gem's desk. With her looking at him like he was a misbehaving child. And Pearl was just standing silently in the corner like always.

“fWhip, after today I'm no longer asking,” she said and fWhip was instantly filled with dread. “You're being assigned bodyguard whether you like it or not,” she said exactly what fWhip didn't want to hear.

“I don't need one,” fWhip protested, leaning forward.

“I don't care anymore, we'll tell your university that due to threats sent to the office, you need a bodyguard,” Gem didn't budge at all.

“I don't need some gangster following me around,” fWhip kept protesting, voice raised as he stood up.

“fWhip, you got any clue what would happen if Scott didn't find you?” She asked, standing up and approaching him. “You being dead would be the best-case scenario so shut up,” he poked her finger into his chest, “accept a guard, and stop being difficult,” she said, her tone low and dangerous.

“But I really,” fWhip started but she slapped him. She had to have been really pissed.

“Get along with Scott, will you,” she stated, not asked.

“Why him? I don't even know him?!” fWhip fully expected to be scolded or slapped again.

“Don't talk nonsense, you two met today no?” She smirked and fWhip grimaced. He hated that she was technically right.

“He harassed me. Sexually! Doesn't that bother you?” Okay, maybe he didn't want to admit it to her but he was out of arguments, okay.

“I'm fully aware of his infatuation with your person. He won't hurt you so don't worry over nothing,” of course she had a counter for everything. Bah. She'd probably like it if fWhip fell in love with a gangster. That would surely keep him from arguing against the bodyguard.

“I hate you,” fWhip said and stormed out. 

Of course one of Gem's gangsters drove him home. At least they didn't follow him to his door.

Not that they had to. Next to it, smoking again and smirking as soon as he spotted fWhip was none other but Scott. 

“Hello, young master,” Scott's smirk grew as fWhip stomped closer. “I was starting to get bored.”

“No smoking in my house,” fWhip grumbled as he looked for his key. He froze as Scott was suddenly behind him. Pressing him onto the door.

“You're no fun,” he breathed, fWhip cringed at the smell. His eyes went wide as Scott presented him with the key.

“How did…”

“It was in your bag,” he explained, lips ghosting fWhip's neck as he quickly snatched the key and opened the door.

“Don't go digging through my stuff,” fWhip huffed, barely avoiding them falling down as he opened the door. Well, he doubted Scott would fall. Not without actually wanting to.

“But how am I supposed to check for bugs then?” Scott chuckled and forced fWhip to sit on his entry hallway bench.

“Stay the hell away from my bedroom,” not that fWhip listened, and followed, to make sure he didn't do anything shady.

“Not ready to show it to me? So cute, but unfortunately I was told to keep you safe so checking for bugs and traps needs to happen,” Scott chuckled infuriatingly and patted fWhip's head.

fWhip grumbled and complained as he followed Scott around the apartment. He couldn't stop him from getting into any room. Scott was simply physically stronger. fWhip absolutely didn't want to imagine how it was possible with how thin Scott looked in his suit. He was even more annoyed since it looked like Scott was genuinely looking for hidden devices to keep him safe.

“Tell me you're not going to wear a suit when following me everywhere,” he sighed as Scott decided the apartment was safe.

“Bodyguards usually wear suits, no? Or is there anything in particular you'd like me to wear?” Suddenly, fWhip found himself pressed to a wall next to the guest bedroom door. Of course, Gem got him a freaking luxury apartment with two bedrooms, a mini gym, a private office and a guest bedroom. His friends had no idea where he lived because of how fancy the place was. He didn't want anyone to know how big his family company was. Even the front one. They might grow to suspect something was up.

“Let me go you ass,” fWhip hissed as he tried, and failed, to push Scott away. The bastard just leaned in closer.

fWhip couldn't, and wouldn't believe Gem would send someone who'd be harassing him as his bodyguard.

“No goodnight kisses?” Scott chuckled. Their faces were far too close.

“Don't be stupid,” fWhip said as he glared, holding Scott's gaze and refusing to back away.

“Very well, young master, have it your way,” he chuckled and backed away. As fWhip thought that he for once had won, Scott shocked him one more time. “Goodnight young master, do scream if you need me,” he said, kissing fWhip on the forehead before just walking into the guest bedroom.

fWhip stood there for a solid minute too stunned to react. Once his thoughts caught up he refused to scream and just groaned in annoyance. Scott might just be what gets him to call Gem for the first time since he moved out.

Mumbling in annoyance fWhip marched back to his room and skipped the shower. It was Saturday the next day, no need to get up early. For the first time there being a lock on this door didn't seem weird.

fWhip shockingly did sleep. But it wasn't good sleep. Scott's face kept plaguing his dreams. He had no clue if Scott was already up or not. Not that he cares, mind you. So he just went about his morning as usual.

Had a nice long shower, and got dressed. All as slowly as possible hoping Scott would get annoyed with how long he was talking and knock.

Of course, the bastard didn't. So fWhip just left his room and went for breakfast. He did not like having three additional gangsters sticking it up as Scott looked at it with a bored expression.

“Hello young master, have you slept well?” The bastard dared smile when he spotted fWhip.

“What's going on?” fWhip asked. He was tempted to scream but he held it in. He was not giving Scott the satisfaction.

“Your kitchen only had junk food, I'll be not having you eat that while under my care,” Scott smiled coldly and dared to pat fWhip's head as if he were a child. 

“Didn't it cross your mind to ask me first?” fWhip huffed, slapping his hand away when it lingered too long on his head.

“It did, but I didn't want to interrupt your beauty sleep,” Scott sighed, feigning being hurt as he leaned on one arm, the other resting on the counter of the kitchen island.

“How about next time you wait for me to wake up?” fWhip tossed back, glaring at the men restocking his kitchen as they finished and left.

And he was alone with Scott once more. Ugh.

“And make you wait longer than necessary for breakfast? Perish the thought, young master. Madam president asked me to look after your safety and I decided to include your health,” Scott shook his head as he languidly stood up and walked into the kitchen. “What would you like for breakfast, young master?” He asked with a smirk while putting a black apron on. Since when did fWhip own any aprons?

“You're the worst,” fWhip hissed glaring at Scott with all his hatred. “I want waffles,” he declared quite smugly. Hoping to trip Scott up...