#on the run

[buckyinmyuniverse]

where you go, i go.

A/N: i did 6-hour solo karaoke session yesterday and sang adele's skyfall 3 times. i broke down during the bridge specifically because the whole "i know i'd never be me without the security of your loving arms" line and i gotta just spiral so this was born.

-----

the wallpaper peels in slow curls, yellowed and damp from decades of other people’s sweat. the air conditioner rattles like it’s about to die — you’re not sure it even blows cold, just coughs out must and mold.

bucky sits on the edge of the bed, shirt off, blood smeared down his ribs. the cut isn’t as bad as it could be, but it’s enough. enough to scare you. enough to make your hands shake when you press the cloth to it.

his breath hitches, shoulders tightening under your touch. trained for pain, your brain reminds you. but that doesn’t stop it from slicing right through you anyway.

“hold still,” you whisper.

he lets out a laugh, all frayed edges. “that’s rich, doll. i’m a goddamn fugitive. holding still isn’t really my specialty.”

you press harder, and he flinches — metal hand clenching into the thin motel blanket. you hate that you’ve memorized that sound he makes, that you know the exact scale of it. from sharp hiss to muted groan.

when you finally sit back, his eyes are already on you. blue, exhausted, still somehow bright.

“this is—” he starts, then stops. his jaw works, like he’s grinding the words down to something smaller, something safer.

you take his hand, the flesh one, your thumb sweeping over knuckles still stained with someone else’s blood. your heart beats stupidly loud.

“where you go, i go,” you tell him. “what you see, i see. i don’t care what’s chasing us. i don’t care if we never get to stop running. i know i’d never be me without you. without—”

your throat closes up. you swallow it down.

“so put your hand in mine. and we’ll stand. together. okay?”

for a second, you’re terrified he’s going to pull away. you’re terrified he’s going to say no, you don’t get it, i’m a loaded gun, i’ll ruin you.

but instead his hand tightens around yours. so gently it nearly breaks you.

“okay,” he breathes. like a vow. like a man who doesn’t believe he deserves this but wants it so badly he’ll say yes anyway.

so you lean forward, press your forehead to his, and in that shitty little motel room, with your lungs full of mildew and your hands sticky with his blood, you stand. maybe the world’s still hunting you. maybe you’re both living on borrowed time.

but right now — right now you stand. together.

-----

he digs through his duffel with one hand pressed to his ribs, muttering curses you’ve stopped pretending to scold him for. finds a t-shirt — gray, thin from too many washes, collar stretched. it probably once fit snug over that broad chest of his. now it looks loose even on him.

he catches you staring, gives a wry little tilt of his lips. “you’re gonna freeze in that,” he says, nodding to your sweat-slick shirt. the blood from patching him up earlier has dried tacky on your sleeve.

“and whose fault is that?” you shoot back, but it’s half-hearted, more breath than bite.

he holds the shirt out. it dangles from his metal hand, looking almost delicate there. “here,” he says. “take it.”

and god, your fingers shake when you reach for it. not because you’re cold, but because this — this — feels more intimate than the bullet wound you just cleaned for him. you tug off your ruined top and slip his on. it’s warm from his body still. smells like sweat and motel soap and something that’s just him — gun oil, leather, crushed pine needles maybe.

when you pull it down over your hips, it’s long enough to nearly count as a dress. you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.

“what?” he asks, cautious, like he’s braced for you to laugh at him or worse — flinch.

you shake your head, press your lips together because if you open your mouth right now you might sob. “it’s stupid,” you manage. “but… it feels like home. your shirt. like i stopped running for a second.”

something in his face just breaks. cracks right down the middle.

he steps in, tugs you close with his good hand, tucks your head under his chin. his heart’s racing under your ear, thumping as hard as yours.

“then keep it,” he murmurs, voice so rough it scrapes across your bones. “keep it forever. i don’t care if we gotta live outta motels the rest of our lives. long as you’re wearin’ that, you’re home.”

and right then, wrapped up in threadbare cotton and him — it’s enough. more than enough. you don’t need four walls or a roof that doesn’t leak. you just need him. and his stupid shirt.

-----

you wake up in the dim blue hour before dawn, twisted up in scratchy motel sheets, and it takes a moment to remember where you are. not because you’re lost — not anymore — but because there’s a warm weight draped over your waist, a broad chest pressed to your back, breath stirring your hair.

it’s bucky. of course it is. his arm’s slung across you like he decided in his sleep he had to chain you to him, or else you might vanish. metal fingers flex against your hip even in dreams.

you shift, trying to get comfortable, and that’s when you feel it — his t-shirt, still on you from last night. it rides up over your ribs when you move, exposing skin to the chill air. but under the shirt, your body is warm, fevered with the ghost of his hands.

you breathe it in. it still smells like him. even now. after sweat and sleep and blood, after dreams that must’ve turned fitful because he gives a little half-sound, something low and pained, pressing his face into the curve of your neck.

you catch his hand, the flesh one, pull it up to your mouth. press a soft, desperate kiss to his knuckles. his breath stutters. he’s awake now — or halfway there — and he tightens around you like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his arms before he can fully climb back into consciousness.

“y’safe,” he rasps, voice cracked from sleep and something deeper. “still here.”

“yeah,” you whisper back, lips brushing his battered knuckles. “where you go, i go. remember?”

he makes a sound that’s almost a laugh, almost a sob, buries it against your shoulder. “best damn promise anyone’s ever made me.”

you turn, tangle your fingers in his hair, pull him down for a kiss that tastes like salt and sleep and the first breath after drowning. and you think: yeah. home. not four walls. not a city. not even a name. just him. just this.

[devil-in-hiding]

the men finding farmer!reader awake earlier than you usually are one morning, scribbling in a little notebook at the kitchen table, eyes darting between your words and the calendar on the wall

“good morning, there’s tea on the stove and toast on the counter.” you greet, voice soft and tired and Price rolls his eyes.

(once you start warming up to them and allowing them to help more, they grill you about working yourself to exhaustion)

“Thought you promised to take it easy this morning.” He mutters, giving Grimes a scratch behind the ears as he goes to grab a mug. He feels Ghost squeeze by behind him, hands warm on his lower back as he pours his tea.

“I’m making a schedule Price.” You yawn, shooing Soap away he tries to snatch the last bite of eggs of your plate. “Hey!” You snap, slapping his hand. Soap looks at you as though you beat him. “Not even a little bite?”

“Make your own, you don’t even like my eggs-“

“Aye! All I said that mornin’ was they was runny!” He whines, and Ghost lightly shoves him away, stealing the seat closest to you.

“What kind of schedule hm?” He questions, trying to peer down at the paper.

“Breeding season.”

Gaz chokes on a piece of toast, Soap slapping his back quickly. Ghost’s fork clatters back onto his plate and Price freezes, only to curse when scalding tea cascades over the side of his mug and down his hand.

You watch, brow raised, as they compose themselves.

“Breeding season?” Soap asks weakly, voice tight and you look between them, tilting your head.

“Yeah…? For the animals…?” You say slowly, and they let out a synchronised groan, Price running a hand over his face.

“Christ love, learn how to phrase shit yeah?”

“What? What do you mean? It’s breeding season!”

“Lass please-“

[vhesa]

beyoncé

[its-where-the-wild-things-are]

[bitingkittie]

[mad-maximoff]

𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐁𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲

��𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵 1- 𝘔𝘪𝘥𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘧𝘵

Sum: Mack Flores had always found the underbelly of society comforting. Mack works in a nightclub as a bartender. She has many friends, but not as special as Star. A 57 year-old hooker, who Mack has a little crush on. Mack wants her to quit, but Star has no other choice until Mack makes the choice for them both that'll alter their lives forever.

Warnings: *Warnings will be announced for each chapter*, language, smoking

Word Count: 4,424

Wattpad link // AO3 // Masterlist

2 AM never came so quickly. Yeah, I hated cleaning up the bar but goddamn, tonight was a cluster of new 21-year-olds from hell. Was I ever that bad? Hell, I can't talk. I'm only 23 but I feel ancient next to these fresh-faced babies.

"Yo, Mack!" My boss, Trina, was a real hippie. A 62-year-old biker chick in a skirt turned the corner of the bar coming down the small flight of stairs from her office. "Yo, Trina!" I mimicked back, it always irked her. She chuckled leaning over the bar counter. "You wanna get outta here? You can leave if you want, I can finish storing the bottles away." Her question perked my head from the counter as I crouched down and wiped a mysterious sticky liquid off the cupboard. "Hell yeah!" I bolted adjusting my belt. "Now, now. Before you go and fuck off, go take the trash out. Then you can fly away." I sighed but knew I did not want to stay longer than I had to. My boots scuffed the floor as I dragged my body to the very thing I despised most. The trash. It was sticky and a mixture of every alcohol and the flies would come out of nowhere. I quickly tied it into a knot and lifted it slowly fearing the worst of the glass clinking.

Jesus what a night...

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Los Angeles. Beautiful this time of year. When I first moved to the States from Canada, I always knew when the weather changed back home. Here, I had to make heads or tales. Though, I knew it was fall. I wasn't sweating to death at 2 am, nor was I freezing to death. I was quite content walking home. The club I worked at was on the Hollywood strip. My apartment complex was a few blocks away. It was as though my apartment was in the middle of everything. Tourists, walk of fame, and Fig street. I often found I would rather walk Figueroa than be around a bunch of tourists taking pictures of gum on a star. That, and I get to see my own star walking so famously. Shining more brightly than any star in the Chinese Theatre. Star. I waited for her at the corner of Fig as I lit a cigarette. A few girls passed me, asking if I wanted company. Another asked for a light or match. I often carry a few matchbooks in my bag. A few tampons and condoms as well. I hand them out like I'm Oprah. Star taught me that. The girls appreciate it. A few knew me by name, perhaps by knowing Star or maybe I have served them once before.

"Yoo-hoo! Starry-girl!" I hollered as the prettiest blonde stepped out of a red brick building adjusting her fur cheetah print coat. Faux, of course, she would never been seen in real fur. She's a real animal activist.

"Miss Mack Flores! Now what have I told you about waiting up for me?" Star's 6-inch heels clicked along the concrete. Star held herself up proudly, her white cream-coloured purse with a gold chain bounced against her hip. "Haha, I didn't I just got here. Tri cut me early. So, I figured I'd come find you." I matched with Star's pace. Her strides were longer than mine. Not just because of the heels but also because she was 2 inches taller than me.

Every time I saw Star there was always something new I never noticed. Today, I noticed the way the muscles in her hand moved as she flinched her knuckles. Her dainty fingers looked soft, her nails were still painted in the shade of red nail polish I got her for Christmas last year. It was Nars in the shade Chinatown.

Star huffed while she held her tightly tied corset. It was a staple in her normal wardrobe. It was a dark cream colour with a thin black outline around the chest, the strings were black tied up in the back. She wore skin colour garter pantyhose with a fine lace trim around her thighs."That's Trina for you. She makes you stay late and makes you worry, then decides to cut you."

"Come on Star, she means well." I pursed my lips against the cigarette, exhaling out and flicking the ash behind us.

"Mack, you think everyone means well. I've known Trina for years, I swear that woman is Bipolar. One minute she's happy and in a joking mood, then some minor inconvenience ticks her off and everyone's a target. Fuck, am I starving." Star halted as she looked around. "You wanna go for Greg's? I want tomato soup and coffee." Star rummaged through her purse whisking out a 20. "I'll pay this round huh?"

"No. I'm paying. Keep your cash." I nudged her as we crossed the street. "Mack come off it, I get you try to act like the strong and silent masculine lesbian here but let me pay for once. I feel like you're paying me for nothing." Star's hand dipped into mine as the traffic lights allowed us to walk. At first, I thought she wanted to hold my hand until her hand touched her lips with my cigarette stolen from my hand. I overthought that through.

"Darlin', you're off the clock. You don't need to do anything for me when I offer to pay." I pulled my leather jacket away from my body to adjust the collar. "Nothing huh? Well, I can just be your best friend for the night then huh?" I reached first for the door of Greg's diner, letting Star go first. "Always Star. That's free."

I met Star when I was 18 about 5 years ago when I first moved to LA. She was 52 at the time. I met Trina before I met Star. Trina got me a job at the nightclub as a bus girl at first, I moved up to a waitress then when I turned 21, I got to become a full-time bartender. I was working my first shift as a bartender, the place was packed. Everyone's face began to blur 2 hours in until I saw Star. She was glowing, with these little metallic star stickers on her cheeks. She had some lanky, baby-faced boy attached to her at the hip. Asking for a glass of white wine and a bottle of beer. We both chatted up and the man-child got angry. I didn't realize what line of work Star was in until I heard the man-child's words. 'Honey, I paid for 2 hours! You wanna stop showing off and start blowing me off?!' I got mad over the way he grabbed Star's arm. I never leaped over a counter faster than I did that night. Charging at him, practically throwing him into a table with a couple of punches in. Star got her money and stayed near me the rest of the night. We became friends instantly. Funnily enough, we also found out as I offered to walk her home that were lived in the same apartment complex. We lived three doors away from each other. It was as though we meant to know each other.

"You want our usual spot Honey-bun?" Star's heels made a strange noise as the ground changed from cement to brown lament. Greg's Diner was our usual hangout. Though, Greg's was Star's thing before it became mine. The upholstery on each seat was red velour from the 80s. So worn down from years of use and burnt from cigarette holes. I swear this is the only and last place you could smoke inside in Los Angeles.

Star rushed over to our usual booth. Nestled in the corner of the diner. Star liked it because she could watch her surroundings, I liked it for another reason. I sat across from Star. I had no distractions other than to stare at her. Watch how she constantly fixes her hair, thinking it isn't perfect even though the way I saw it, her hair already was. Star was perfect. Everything about her was anything but perfection. Except...for the elephant in the room. Her job.

"You see they got new waiters? Young huh?" Star adjusted herself in the booth, peeling off her fur coat from her peachy-toned shoulders. She had more freckles on her shoulders than normal. I kept begging her to wear at least a dime-sized amount of sunscreen. It fell on deaf ears. Don't get me wrong, I adored her little freckles, but it did worry me some days. The heat radiates off her body after these types of nights. Wore down, even into the morning when we crossed paths. I just wish I could help her.

"Young? What am I then?" I flagged down one of the waiters as Star raised her bag to lay it on the table beside the window. "Now, now." She giggled. "You're not 18 anymore, they're babies." She gushed watching the youngin scurrying around like a bunch of headless chickens. "So what? I look road hard and put away wet?" The waiter came to our booth, said the mandatory greeting and took our order. Star ordered a bowl of tomato soup and black coffee with sugar. They didn't offer vegan substitutions for cream so Star always suffered. Funnily enough, I thought of possibly buying a small carton of vegan milk. For how often we come here, it's something to think of. I felt bad ordering meat in front of Star, but she kept reassuring me it was fine. That she was okay with it. I ordered their classic beef dip. Their fries are seasoned like a chef has Parkinson's, every fry is seasoned deliciously. The gravy was thick and actually tasted like beef. And the au jus is immaculate. Just thinking about the toasted bread dipped in the au jus makes my mouth water.

"Haha! Mack, I was just saying you don't look that young anymore. You do look young but you've matured. You hold yourself differently than they do. I still remember your baby face behind the bar counter shaking like a leaf." As Star's words whispered out, the waiter came back with a black coffee and a beer in a bottle. Star forgot the sugar packets were in a dish beside her purse, and I was surprised over the fact our waiter remembered to pop the cap off my beer bottle.

"Yeah, I think that thing you called 'matured' is stress" My shoulders raised as I pulled the bottle close to my chest. Star shook the sugar packet against her hand until she ripped it open to pour its contents into her cup. "It's not always this rough baby-doll, you'll get there." Star's hand lifted a spoon to stir. "I'm sorry to say darlin', but when? I'm making enough for rent and other bills, but I...it's just hard. I want a savings account, and what happens if I get hurt? I have no cash for medical bills! And-..."

"Woah, woah now! That's a lot in one go, Mack. It's fine. Here, how about this? We do it the old-fashioned way, we write down your expenses. Probably you can lay off the beer for a bit." Star paused taking hold of my beer as finished mid-sip. "We figure things you can lay off. And then each paycheck, I'll teach you how much you're supposed to put away. And god forbid if you need to go to the hospital, we'll pile money together and start payment plans." Star pushed the bottle back to me as the waiter came back with our food. "I don't want you to do that Star. I'll be okay with you helping me prioritize my finances but not you helping me with medical bills." The food came piping hot. Star's soup was large with a measly packet of crackers. That I'd normally eat, and my beef dip looked as though Jesus made it himself. Hey, there's probably a line cook named Jesus back there and by god, he makes a mean beef dip.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Well, after our late dinner, I needed to loosen my belt. That beef dip hit the spot. Star and I left Greg's after I paid. I had to fight off Star's offer of pay. We exited the diner, and it strangely became colder than we first entered. Though we should've known that would happen, it was 3 a.m. Star's jaw chattered, though with every glance I took, she tried her might to stop.

"Cold are we?" My hand reached over adjusting her coat over her shoulder. "N-no, I'm fine." She continued to chatter. "Fucksake Star, come on. Lemme get us a cab. Uber?"

"No Mack. We only have 4 more blocks left. That's a waste." Star closed her coat, wrapping it around her waist. "H-hurry up." Star grabbed my bicep through my leather jacket. My arm flexed as we both shuffled faster, we made it to the gate that surrounded our apartment complex. We scurried into our complex, across the parking lot where my truck was parked in front of the set of stairs that led to our apartment doors. We both separated, Star turned left to her door as I turned right to my place at the end of the hall. My key felt more warm than my hands as I let myself in.

My place wasn't much, I didn't have decor or an actual bedframe. I had Star help me drag out a wooden pallet from work home as the frame. It wasn't fancy but it was mine. My belongings, my place. I loved coming home and everything was as I left it. Nothing moved, no one to come home to and just start judging me. It was peaceful. My phone broke the silence as it dinged with a text.

*Star*

Thank you for dinner. Sorry If I didn't say it! I was fucking frozen! Lol

*Mack*

It's fine doll, I am too lol. Goodnight <3

I threw my phone landing on my black futon. The first thing I did as soon as I stepped foot is undo my leather belt and rip off my socks. I slipped my feet in my slippers walking over to the kitchen. Still silent. What else could it be? Los Angeles at 3 am might be still noisy to a newbie, but once you get used to it, the measure of noise fades and it's finally quiet. I opened the fridge to see a sight I too used to seeing. Nothing. A few lonely bottles of beer from a 6-pack I bought at the beginning of the week and a few bottled water from a 24-pack I purchased.

"Jesus...I need to get paid." I leaned in the fridge to grab a bottle of beer. I had a butter knife lying beside my fridge. I saw this dude on TikTok, he tapped the cold bottle twice on different areas of the glass then swiped up to pop the cap off. Instinctly, I had to try. All that can go bad is broken glass everywhere. I began to tap the bottom twice, then the middle, and in one fatal swoop, the cap went flying.

"Yes! Fuck yeah!" The pressure from the bottle made the almost bubble over. I celebrated by swiping the bottle up to my lips and taking in a celebratory drink. I noticed my much-enjoyed silence was cut short by the ring of my phone. I prayed it wasn't Trina. Saying something went wrong or chewing me out for doing or not doing something to her degree. I rushed over to retrieve it to see the screen. Thankfully it wasn't, it was Star.

"Star? What's up?"

"Mack, can you come over? Please. I need a little help." Her breaths were short as she spoke. "What's wrong? Is your door unlocked?" I stayed on the phone with her as I rushed over to the front door. "Y-yes..please hurry." I slapped the door running to Star's. I rushed into her place without hesitation. I've been over at Star's so much that we might as well just move in together. That would be the dream. At least for me, I don't know about Star.

"Star? Where are you?" I panicked around like a headless chicken until I heard Star's chopped breaths in her bedroom. Star's apartment looked just like mine in layout, but she had decor. Not much. A white couch, white curtains. She loved white until you reached her bedroom. She had white bedsheets and vintage tables but she always had a little dash of colour. She had a sheer pink cloth draped from her ceiling that hung over her bed. A canopy! That's what they're called.

"There you are! What the hell is wrong?" I saw Star sitting at her vanity, cigarette in hand hanging over a crystal ashtray she loved. "Well, I kinda made a mistake. I went to untie my corset and I think I made it tighter. I can't untie it Mack." She flicked her ash as she wiped her makeup off with a wipe. "Jesus, Star. So you thought smoking would help?"

"Can you give me this lecture later? Just help me take it off." She huffed pushing her cigarette out in the crystal tray. I placed my beer on her vanity next to her makeup wipes. Star had tried her might to untie but the bow had turned into a knot. "Haha fine, you've suffered enough huh?"

"Very much so. I am so tired and sore. I know you don't like me talking about work but fuck Mack. These men think I'm a pretzel. My thighs are killing me." My nail caught onto the knot and I loosened it.

"Haha! But you kinda are Star. I'm 23 and I cannot wrap my ankles around my head but god forbid you still can." The ties unravelled against Star's back, and the corset created an imprint along her bare back stopping in the middle of her spine, whereas the string made its mark along her spine. "Still huh? Tell that to my hips...ha...it's funny. Well, not really if you think about it, but I would rather have my forehead pinned against a car window than in the motels. They're always quicker in cars." Star giggled throwing a makeup wipe in a trash bin, pulling a few glass bottles forward. I knew they were skincare, but the only skincare I knew of was moisturizer, sunscreen and cleanser. Hers looked so foreign to me. Star said I needed something that would make me 'look' less oily.

"Haha," I laughed nervously. "Well that makes sense, carpool lanes can be busy." Star snorted as she rubbed a milky-white serum on her cheeks and forehead trying to raise her eyebrows. "Oh my god shut up." She joked elbowing my hip. All of the strings of her corset were loose enough for her to remove. Star stopped her skin routine to hold the corset against her chest. She stood up kicking off her massive heels. She spun around my body turning her back to face me. She let her arms go off her chest, as the corset dropped to the floor. I peered away swiftly, however, I did take notice of Star's body move in her vanity mirror. The way Star's warm ivory skin radiated from the lightbulbs next to her bed. Her skin was golden silk. Her somewhat nude body always caught my attention. As she silently moved across the laminate floor. Her ruffled underwear slipped off tossing it on the foot of her bed, only wearing her thigh garters. The little cluster of scars on her arm from some freak accident in her childhood showed prominently as she trotted over to a large basket full of clothes. Rummaging her beloved favourites. "So you thought it was a good idea to drink more beer after dinner huh?" Star's eyes met mine in the vanity. I suppose she noticed I was watching her, or she's always known. "To be frank, I may or may not have gotten groceries in a bit." I pivoted my ankles facing Star, stretching my arms out to fetch my beer and taking a sip. Star froze her search in the basket cocking her head over to me. "Are you serious Mack!? I told you Monday you should've come with me to get groceries! What do you have for food?!" Star quit making decisions as she leaned forward for her silk rope slipping it on her arms. "Um..well...I have the rest of my 6 pack of beer."

"I see that Mack. I didn't ask about that, I asked about food." Star slipped her bare feet into a pair of white fuzzy slippers towards me. Her shoulder brushed mine as she ripped bobby pins and elastics out of her hair. "You remember that 24 pack of water from Costco?"

"Jesus Christ Mack! You have to stop doing this. Every month you do this, you scrimp and save thinking something bad will happen but you refuse to buy groceries!" Star clenched her hands on either side of my biceps giving me a small shake. "Haha...come on doll, I just forgot. That's all." I pulled away from her arms. Star huffed as her eyes rolled back. "Fine! But, you're going grocery shopping with me tomorrow." Star ushered me out of her room to the living room. Star bent her arm beside the coffee table to grab the tv remote. "You want to finish that show we were watching?" The TV light glowed with the Netflix logo popped up.

I hate to say Star was never confrontational with me, but she was. We would bicker over things but it would never escalate. She's normally a bubbly and cheery personality, though, I've seen Star drag a John 3 blocks by his ankles to an ATM. She has her moments and uses them wisely. "Sure, but I thought you didn't like it? Too scary for you remember?"

"For me yes, you had one more episode but I'm in the mood for toast. You want a slice?" Star sauntered to her little kitchenette for bread and perhaps peanut butter. I hope.

"Sure, why not. What harm can bread do before bed." I slumped into Star's well-loved white couch. Its grooves made my ass a permanent residence known all too well. I left the right corner for Star, as I knew if I dared to sit there I would be scooched immediately.

"Mack, I think you get nightmares from eating sugar before bed, not bread." Star chuckled dropping two pieces of toast in the toaster. In a thankful sight, I saw the smooth peanut butter. Star and I both agree Chunky Peanut is god-awful.

"You may be right, but I swear last time I ate peanut butter toast this late I had that one dream of that freaky amputee girl, you remember? With the glass eye?"

"Haha! Coco! I knew she freaked you out. What kind of dream?"

"Yeah, she freaks me the fuck out. High on fent and wobbling around on a makeshift leg, that girl can cause carpet burn on that broom handle."

"Mack!"

"Haha, I'm just saying that woman was rode hard and put away wet. Anyway, I always have the same nightmare that I'm walking home from work, looking for you and Coco comes up behind me. The chick comes running at me like Usain Bolt." I leaned back onto the couch as I saw Star come around with two plates.

"Maybe you need to take a new route." Star plobbed herself in her usual spot. As she handed me a plate. "Maybe you need a new job Star." My show began without a hitch as Star rustled around to get comfortable. "Mack," She sighed. "Darling in a perfect world that can work, but honey, I'm 57 years old. I've been doing this work since I was your age. I don't know how to do anything else." She muttered as she bit into the corner of her toast.

"I know honey, but there are alternatives. I just don't want you to get hurt." I finished my slice of toast quicker than Star, I leaned forward to place the plate on the coffee table. I slumped back into the cushions stretching my arms out on the backrest. "You're such a worrier. That's all you do. You're too young to worry so much."

"Yeah, I guess so." I huffed, as I held my tongue back. What I wanted to say could throw Star off. She wanted a best friend, I wanted her for more. So much more.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The ending to my show was shit. The entire series was gory and full of horror, so why is it the last goddamn episode has to be so mushy and lovey-dovey. Star actually liked it. Well, half of it that is. She fell asleep mid-way. Curled up resting her head on the armrest. I slowly got up from my spot not to wake her. Star says she doesn't snore, but I beg to differ. They're faint, but her snores are cute. Especially when she's in a good sleep and you notice a little drool. I picked up our plates bringing them to the sink. I tried my best to quietly turn the faucet to wash the dishes. I didn't want Star to wake up to anything dirty. I nested them into her drying rack as I flicked on the overhead stove light. I tip-toed back to where Star was asleep, turning off the TV. I made my way to the front door before rethinking that decision. I halted to see Star's hands were locked between her thighs. I bet she was cold in her robe. I got close enough to Star to grab the white throw blanket draped on the couch, unfolding it to lay across her. Making sure her feet were covered as well.

I wanted to stay with her, I wanted to kiss her forehead. I had to stop myself before I did something I'd regret. Maybe it was the booze, or maybe it was just me. Being me. I cannot help it, Star's everything to me.

"Goodnight Star," I whispered before opening the door. I locked the door before I left Star's apartment. The cold night air hit me roughly enough to lose my breath. I ran back to my unlocked apartment locking up for the night.

"Luxury is not a necessity to me, but beautiful and good things are." - Anaïs Nin 

[vintage-tigre]

[whumpster-dumpster]

the end of my shift came and our line of customers conveniently dried up at the same time, my friend was finishing her last ring-up said to me "run. ill be right behind you" which was not intended to be dramatic but it reminded me how much i LOVE that phrase in whump adjacent stories

Yessss, that is such a good phrase!

[anissapierce]

If you loved the episodes of wwdits written by stefani robinson "On the Run" and "Wellness Center" b4 she left n the show im sorry got worse... i need u to watch adults on hulu. If were mutuals im willing to give out my hulu tbh. But the show in general is so fucking funny n i need to talk to someone about it. I dont have the time to find a place to download it to clip scenes but when i do.

The episode she wrote of this has a main plot of a gay guy n a sexually fluid dude essentially fostering this teen while shes in new york to get pregnant after one of the dudes friends w benifits n their mutual roomate dumps it on them bc she doesnt feel up for it. I dont have the time to extole why this show is good in general so take this hastily made post b4 tumblr gets autoblocked on my phone for my working hours

Edit: first ep on yt

[minijenn]

Let's have some FUN on the run!

Finally have the On the Run cover to show off to ya'll! I decided to go a bit experimental with this one, I think it turned out... ok. I guess. Something something holes in the Kindergarten something something original b plot featuring Pearl, Mabel, and Connie, something something.

[devil-in-hiding]

it’s 5 am and i can’t stop thinking of Ghost falling into a habit of slipping into farmer!reader’s bed whenever he hears you whimpering from the cold from down the hall, disentangling himself from Price’s arm, padding down the hall with a yawn.

He tiptoes around snoring dogs, shushing Dixon when he raises his head. “Just me, go back to sleep you beast.”

“G-Ghost?” You whimper, peering up at him and the sight always melts his heart. “Scoot over sweet girl.” He murmurs, sliding up next to you and wrapping you up in his arms. It’s routine, feeling you melt into his touch, your breath warm against his neck. Your arms snake up, fingers brushing the stubble along his jaw and he hums, pressing his nose to your hair. “Need to shave don’t I?” he muses, ignoring the heat your fingers leave behind.

“I like it…” you whisper, lips brushing his neck and he struggles not to shudder. “Oh yeah?” he mutters, pulling back to look down at you. You gaze back him, eyes half-lidded and so sweet as you look at him.

“Mhm… handsome…” you breathe, slipping one of your hands around his neck, fingers curling into the hair at the base of his neck. he sucks in a breath, looking over your features, slipping his knee between your legs.

“Little bird…” he warns, but his control is slipping as he feels you grind against his thigh. “You don’t-“

“Touch me. Please.” You breathe before leaning up, ghosting your lips over his jaw and he groans, rolling and pinning you beneath his large frame.

“Gonna be the fuckin death of me, Price is gonna have my head.” He mutters, slipping his hands up your nightgown as he captures your lips in a kiss

[aceofwhump]

Fright Night (2011)

[its-where-the-wild-things-are]

[devil-in-hidingg]

( @devil-in-hiding ) So I am going to just trying and breathe through the night about this. I am too scared to attempt doing any other attempts on my phone, so right after my mom drops my brother off at school, we’re going to T Mobile. I need a new phone anyways and this is so very stressful on me, my whole life is on that phone. This is just shown me the importance of having shit written down and now I’m going to find a journal that I can keep somewhere I remember and write all my shit down. In the mean time, I’m going to be searching far and wide for my mutuals :,) I’ll keep this as a back up, because I am hoping and praying to get my shit back.

anyways sorry for the miss use of the tags but I gotta do what I gotta do

[mad-maximoff]

I'm so in love with my novel rn.

I'm currently writing chapter 3 of House Bunny, and I'm in love with my characters. Star, is a 57-year-old hooker who has been working in the business for 20 years in Los Angeles. Mack Flores, a 23-year-old bartender, and Star's neighbour and best friend. Mack has been in love with Star since the first time they met. Star runs into trouble, which results in Mack stepping up and doing something that will turn the two into fugitives.

I love writing for these two so much bc they basically bounce off each other, and they're polar opposites, but in actuality, they need each other. <3

This is one novel I’d FIGHT to get published on paperback💪🏻

Masterlist // Wattpad // AO3

(Yes, Star is based on Pamela Anderson, and Mack sorta resembles Corky, sue me.)