#what are the fucking .tags for this place mannn

[oneironautart]

straight beebin it. beeboing it

^ creature i hired to stare at you

[zombieplaygrounds]

cw: unprotected sex, virgin! konig drabble, some man handling, wrote this in a rush, slight dumbification, idk mannn

Colonel fucked you like a good and proper bitch. It was derogatory, almost. Didn't hesitate to handle you by the pretty locks of your hair and drag you some place quiet just to feel you grind and roll your hips against his in futile efforts to get yourself off. Your crying and groaning into your own arm, strands of drool slobbering down your soft flesh, your biting, twitching, begging.

König had no problem offering you a real good fuck, spent his hours frustrated on duty, bowing his head, following orders - playing nice. Hated every moment of it, he did. What he hated most? Having to sit there and think about all the things he could do to you. Spent most nights palming his cock, unable to finish and saving all his virile seed just for you. The sweet little barrack bunny who dedicated her cute little cunt to being bullied and violated by his seemingly endless libido.

It was you who took König's virginity, after all. Teasing him with endless soft touches, rubbing against his upper thigh while you pretended to really give a shit about his issues. Let him growl in to your shoulder about all his issues while he hoisted you up by the meat of your fleshy thighs and held you between himself and the wall. All hoisted up on his throbbing cock, which wept milk, white tears of precum that acted as lubricant for your needy pussy.

Poor König, he was so fucked up and twisted, traumatized and thoroughly mind broken by the countless lives he slaughtered with the same hands that gently rub and map out the pretty markings across your skin. You pant endlessly in his ears, words of praise, sweet words that he genuinely didn't deserve. Calling him your "good, loyal dog".

It made his knees weak, absolutely crushing you under his weight while he fucked you against that cold, hard wall. His huffs like a rutting pup, equally desperate and sloppy in his thrusts, only slowing down when your hands slip inside his mask just to give his hair a rough, threatening tug.

König lets you get away with a lot, schatz, but that doesn't mean you can take advantage of the effect he's pussy drunk. He'll give you a firm smack on the ass, a slurring string of commands that are meant to scold you. Only accomplishing a giggle and a obeying whine in his ear from your pretty mouth. Your cunt squeezing tightly on him, sucking up all the warm spend he presses deep into you, left in nothing but a shivering, shaken completion.

tagging: @babybimbo777 @kettlemouse @yandere-kokeshi

[sapphosewrites]

#what if Julian hadn't nodded#<- prev mannn#The fact that Garak chooses to look behind for permission in the first place is so much#The fact that Julian immediately understood and nodded is so much#At the end of the day it's the same either way because Dukat banned him specifically but. My g-d#I don't think. Garak would resent him for it? Not exactly#Because Garak’s relationships to those he. Asks permission of is complicated (very notable that immediately after Tains death he's turning#To Julian. Not just stepping forward himself but still turning to someone else)#Like even as he calls Tain a monster he still doesn't entirely hate him#And he's got a much more positive relationship to Julian#But I think it would linger in the back of Garak's mind... and potentially impact their relationship if you think they get more distant#And I think Julian WOULD feel guilty as fuck about it. Even if it was only that he froze and not that he told Garak not to go

@bijoumikhawal These tags are making me insane actually

STAR TREK: DEEP SPACE NINE (5.15) — By Inferno’s Light

[ggukminii]

tag your mutuals game! 🌼

I was tagged by @jkjms thank you love! 💕

why did you choose your url?

originally this blog was gonna be just for kookmin, so kookmin > ggukmin > ggukminii! I wanted to make the ends match in a way ajdjdj

any side blogs? if you have them, name them and explain why you have them.

this is my side blog! initially, i made this blog for just km stuff, but soon I was like, fuck it all bts stuff hereee

oH and I kind of have a thing where I create random urls? 😃 so I guess in actuality I have.. quite a few side blogs lmao why am I like this

how long have you been on tumblr?

this is kind of weird bUt you can actually be on tumblr and follow blogs without having an acount (at least at that time!) so i did that since february of 2019, i believe? LMAOO and then i made my account in june of 2019! so it’s been about two years already! ✨

do you have a queue tag?

yep! it’s queue never walk alone! mannn was it hard to choose a lyric SJDFKL

why did you start your blog in the first place?

i started this blog as a side one for just km content, but i soon realized i didn’t want to have two bts related accounts and so i continued using this account as my main one. ah and in terms of tumblr in general, I kind of moved on from another social and wanted a fresh, new place to talk about my love for bts so here we are 😃

why did you choose your icon?

that selca. took me OUT. I’m actually torn between it and some muster pics tho 👀

why did you choose your header?

oh my god i’ve been wanting to gif that mots on:e behind jk moment for so long, so i finally did it and made it my header a few days ago!

what’s your post with the most notes?

my same smile gif set!

how many people do you follow?

312

have you ever made a shit post?

I feel like every one of my posts except my gifs are shit posts 😫 lmao basically everything under my .txt tag! beware of my clear lack of braincells tho ;D

how often do you use tumblr?

this varies... but mostly at least once a day! oftentimes I’m just scrolling and liking posts!

did you have a fight/argument with a blog once? who won?

thankfully I have not :’)

how do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this post’?

ooh this is kind of hard. i think most of the time they’re justified! i’ve been thinking about this for a loong time, and i don’t really know exactly what type of posts fall under this category either SDJFLKS so imma just leave it at that :’D

do you like tag games?

ah ofc!! they’re honestly so fun to complete even though i take ages to do them :’)

do you like ask games?

hm i’ve never done an ask game before and i’m not sure anyone would participate if i do jsdflk but yea they seem so fun! 👀

which of you mutual do you think is tumblr famous?

if i’m being honest here... i think all my mutuals are tumblr famous. like. i’m always wondering how these wonderful people are actually following me 😭

do you have a crush on a mutual?

literally every single one, they’re all AMAZINGGG how could i not? 🥺 seriously though, i look up to all of them sooo much :( 💜

I tag @jimindelune @knjz @lq-jikook @gimbapchefs @calicooky @rosebowl @minyoongislaysme @jiminswn @themoonispurple7 @gukksluv @flowerkth @espressokookmin and everyone else who sees this, if you want to 💕

[tastingmellow]

She’s Yours?

A/N: I had this idea for a while and I do NOT correlate it to that song with that pedophilic fuck nigga R. Kelly so don’t you dare start with me! This kind of a in between imagines fic because the next few fics will sequels to fics I’ve already written but you guys wanted a part 2!

Pairing: Issa surprise that I’m sure y’all can figure out.

Summary: A very odd occurrence is happening and it has everyone scratching their head

Warnings: Language. Reader is a baddie, a black queen.

Word Count: Lmao, just skip this part. You know the answer.

Steve and Bucky walked through the pristine corridor , talking and laughing with one another as they avoided the bustling bodies and chatter around them. They were both on their way to lunch to discuss an alliance with two other company heads, both of them talking about the amazing woman they had met.

“I’m telling you, she’s like no other woman I’ve met. She has this amazing smile, the smoothest skin and OH! She has this cute birthmark that I love tracing. God, I know it’s only been a month but...I can see the rest of my life with her.” Bucky spoke, eyes glazed over as he went through his memories of blissful nights with the mystery woman.

“Wow, Buck. She sounds great, I’d love to meat her one day. And I’d love for you to meet mine. She’s the cutest, most kindest woman I’ve ever met. She has this passion for caring for others that compares to no other. She’s genuinely perfect in every aspect.” Steve spoke about his woman, his eyes lighting up. He had known his woman for a bit longer than Buck and it was hands down one of the best times of his life.

“Sounds like we’re both whipped pal, maybe we should go on a double date soon. In the meantime, we need to hurry up and get to lunch before we’re late.” Bucky checked his watch before the two of them picked up their pace.

—————

Erik walked to the table where his close friend Trevante sat. Trevante stood up, immediately recognizing his friend. They dapped each other up in that way all men do before sitting down, Erik unbuttoning his jacket to sit comfortably. “What’s been going on with you, Tre? Last time I saw you, you were drunk off ya ass at that party.” Erik laughed at the memory and Tre winced, a smile still gracing his face.

“Mannn, I thought we agreed to forget about that? Wasn’t my finest hour.” The two men laughed as the waiter came to take their drink orders. Tre put his in before leaning forward, as did Erik. “So, what’s this I hear about my boy being swept up off his feet?”

Erik chuckled before pointing a finger at him. “First of all, don’t ever say that shit in regards to me again. Second of all, yeah, man. Shawty is...something special. But I heard you got somebody too, boy!” Erik brought up what had been circling around the city for a minute and Tre’s smile grew, nodding.

“Yeah, yeah. I got somebody real special. She’s gotta have the smartest mouth I’ve ever seen on a woman, she’s funny as hell, cool, knows how to handle business. She’s...whew, she’s a dime for sure.” Tre spoke Erik leaned back, laughing to himself.

“Oh nahhh, she got my boy whipped.” The men laughed and Tre shrugged. “Ain’t nothing wrong with that, what about you though? Heard you haven’t been able to stop talking about her since y’all got together.”

Erik nodded, biting his lip. “Yeah, she is. She can go from goofy to nothing but business at the drop of a hat. She be looking out for me too, always making sure I slept, ate, took a shower. She’s a keeper.”

Just as Erik finished up his speech Steve and Bucky walked in. The hostess directed them to the table and Erik and Tre stood, shaking hands with the other two men. They exchanged polite greetings before sitting, engaging in a bit of small talk

Laughter flowed throughout the interaction, the men making jokes. “Yeah, Erik here was just enlightening me on the woman he’s been seeing.” Tre spoke up and Bucky’s eyebrows rose. “Really? Steve and I were just talking about our special ladies on the way here.”

Tre and Erik chuckled as Steve nodded in agreement. “Looks like we’re all caught up in a phenomenal female.” Steve spoke and everyone at the table agreed. Erik took a sip from his drink before rubbing his hands together, an ecstatic smile on his face. “Alright, gentleman. Let’s get down to business.”

—————

Time seemed to fly by with the light conversation and easy business talk that the four men were currently engaging in. They’re meals had just arrived and they stopped the business talk for the moment to enjoy they’re food and just talk about life.

“Tell me about your girl, Tre.” Steve spoke up, wiping the corners of his mouth with a napkin before dropping it in his lap. Trevante did the same before sitting up. “Well, she’s this...alluring beauty. I wish you guys knew how beautiful she was. She has this fresh outlook on life and it just makes her all the more amazing to be around. Her eyes light up when she talks about her passion. It’s really everything about her that I love.”

Erik and Bucky nodded. “It’s the same with me, she’s so thoughtful and caring. She doesn’t hesitate to give and put others before herself. But don’t let that full you, she’s quick to put someone in their place. She’s even done it with me a couple of time.” Bucky laughed and the table erupted in understanding.

“Sounds like we all have some keepers.” Erik spoke and they all nodded in agreement. Steve’s eyes rose from his plate and glanced around before he did a double take. His smile grew wider as he saw his woman standing at the entrance, talking to the hostess, presumably here to meet with a client.

“Speaking of my woman. Y/N!” He yelled and your head snapped up from the reservation list you had your finger on. You politely asked the hostess to ready your table before telling her you’d be right back.

You wore a slightly confused expression on your face as the four men’s head snapped up at the name. The only face you recognized was Erik’s so who is this blonde calling you by your first name.

Steve stood up and walked towards you, wrapping his arms around you before placing a confident kiss on your lips. You dropped your purse and stood in shock, eyes open. Your body finally registered what was happening and you immediately pinched his side, causing the stranger to let go. He winced and you looked at him like he was crazy.

“The hell is wrong with you? I thought we were best friends!” You heard the brunette speak up, watching him pop up. “And you! Why would you go after him?! Of all people?”

You looked at the brunette, eyebrows knitted in confusion. You opened your mouth to speak before the dark skinned man with the low fade stood up, “The hell are you talking about?! Y/N, what the fuck are they talking about?”

You opened your mouth again but we’re cut off by Erik. “That’s how you gon do a nigga? You fucking my homeboy and—“

“Will y’all shut the fuck up?!” You rose your voice and they hushed immediately. You huffed and turned to Steve, an apologetic expression on your face. “Sir, I’m sorry but you have me mistaken for someone else. All of you do, ‘cept for Erik. I don’t know the rest of y’all but I obviously look like someone y’all know, sorry for the confusion.”

Steve blinked, Bucky tilted his head, and Tre scratched the back of his neck while Erik walked up to you. “Hey, boo!” You smiled in recognition before pulling on his dreads. He winced and before he could ask you replied. “That’s for thinking I’d ever cheat on you. Although, you can’t be TOO mad. If I did cheat on you with any of them it wouldn’t exactly be a downgrade.”

You smiled at the men and they laughed, Steve going red from embarrassment as he stepped forward to apologize. “I’m so sorry, I thought you were my girl. You look exactly like my girl, it’s honestly freaky.” You nodded and raised your hand to pat his chest. “It’s no problem. Can I see what she looks like? Well can I see what all of your girls look like?”

The rest of the men pulled out their phones and showed you a picture of their respective girls. Your eyes widened and you chuckled to yourself. “Okay, that’s fucking scary.”

Erik tilted his head, “Those aren’t your sisters or something?” You shook your head. “No, I’ve never seen those girls before. I mean we look alike with slight differences but yeah, I’ve never seen them before. Maybe you’re in some alternate universe.”

You smiled brightly and the men at the table nearly swooned once you did. You laughed softly and lightly tilted your head in disbelief. “Steve!” A woman’s voice yelled out behind you. You all turned around and when you and the woman locked eyes you were floored.

“Holy shit.” She murmured and you laughed. “Hey, Tre!” Another voice called out and all eyes went to her. Tre waved awkwardly as the woman made her way over. She spotted you and Steve’s girl and nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Oh my God.” She spoke and you all laughed. “Bucky, baby!” The last woman called out and everyone turned again.

She looked between you, Steve and Tre’s girl before chuckling incredulously. “This is fucking crazyyy.” You and your doppelgängers laughed, leaning on each other.

“We’re gonna need nametags,” Erik spoke up the men agreed.

“Definitely.”

————————

A/N: I know this is probably very unrealistic unless you’re part of identical quadruplets I just thought it was a funny concept. Make sure to like, share, comment and reblog. Make sure you notify me if you want to be added to my taglists! Some tags don’t work so be sure to turn on post notifs!

@destinio1 @ljstraightnochaser @chaneajoyyy @raysunshine78 @shookmcgookqueen @tip222u @bakarilennox @here-for-your-bullshit @asweet-serendipity @l-auteuse @thickemadame @missshae@toniilaney @simscrazyfangirl @blackpinup22 @bitchacho25 @furiousduckpeach @shegoego @eye-raq @goddessofthundathighs @uzumaki-rebellion @lilulo-12 @ishipwhateverthefuckiwantto @you-know-me-and-where-i-be @hisxblackxqueen

[ace-of-hearts-and-spades]

Okay I had to read this twice bc it was so scrumptious that I wanted to savor it again and also I needed the second reading to organize my thoughts. We’re coming out of the tags for this babyyyy. Anyways. Somewhat coherent ramblings under the cut.

I’m obsessed with how you captured Randy and Benson as characters. Benson’s sharp, sudden movements that always seem to have an edge of aggression and unpredictability – immediately and sharply driving off the road to switch places with Randy, grabbing the jacket to use as a pillow. And sticking his head out of the window like a fuckin dog!!! He fuckin would!! I can fucking picture it. And Randy flinching at almost every damn thing, every noise and movement. Mentally playing out the things he wants to do and say but struggling to actually do them. Wanting so badly to be helpful and be trustworthy and be good for Benson. Sweetie you are down so bad and you don’t even realize it.

As always, I’m in love with the visuals and descriptions you use. I’m just gonna throw some of my favorite bits in and commentate on em okay. Okay.

“Fear still gnaws at the edges of him, jittery and mean like rats in the walls, but it’s not the same.”

MMMM fuck yeah this is good shit. 10/10 imagery. Perfect for these two.

“He gets out and the breeze hits his face, smells a little like home and a little bit different.”

FUCK DUDE the visceral longing this line hit me with……… oof. Just OOF. And then Randy wondering if he and Benson could see all the 50 states together. God.

“He's been wearing his shirt for two days now, the smell of stale cigarette smoke working itself into his skin. It's like he's being assimilated, wrapped in a cocoon of brash words and an army green jacket.”

Oh mannn. Within the span of a couple days, Randy’s life has been so irrecoverably changed and torn off course because of Benson. They’ve become intimately familiar in a way that isn’t quite covered in a single word, but maybe assimilation is the best way to describe it. A sort of codependence that neither intended and neither can quite pull themselves out of. Something something the lines between you and me are starting to blur something something. So wonderfully captured here.

And Benson calling Randy “Good boy”??????????? Hello????????????? God??????????? I need to sit down I need to think about this. Good Lord. Yeah I think Randy would enjoy being told he’s a good boy, IN A VARIETY OF CONTEXTS 👀 but nay we shan’t linger on that. Onward we go.

“It's a cute snore, kind of nasally and pitched higher than his voice. He slams the door on that thought the moment it arrives, shoos it away and casts a guilty look over at Benson.”

BUDDYYYYYYYYYYYY YOU’RE DOWN BAD FOR HIS UNSTABLE ASS DON’T LIE TO ME. It’s always the lil disarming things. And then the section where Randy thinks about Benson pre-everything, about the two different “sides”…….. man. Much to ponder. Much to think about. And wanting to be someone Benson can count on. Oughhh that got me in the heart a lil.

“His shirt rides up and in the dark of the dawn Randy can just make out the triangle of hair on his stomach. He bites his cheek.”

I think I’m going to be ill actually ‼️‼️………. AND ON THAT NOTE I THINK I’LL STOP. I’m rambling a lot and I’m not sure what I’m saying is making any sense, but I hope Randy and Benson find a lil motel to stay at and oopsie maybe there’s only one bed HMMMM sdhgshdsd. This was FANTASTIC and I’m obsessed and I’m thinking so many thoughts about them rn. Good good GOOD fuckin shit here. Delicious. Thank u for this meal Meg this is canon to me 🙏💜

the driver

it turns out I am chewing on them every moment of every day. I'm sure this fic will permanently satisfy the hunger of course ✨🌷🙃

2.3k words. character study happy ending post-credits type beat where everyone lives and drives off into the sunset together. pre-slash but Randy is so down bad he doesn't know how to cope. nobody do the math on mileage or drive time I made it all up Minnesota isn't even real

They’re about 50 miles over the Missouri border when Benson asks him. 

“You think you could drive, man?” 

Randy looks at him sharply, not sure he heard him right. He must not have heard him right. 

Benson glances over and his eyes are bloodshot beyond belief, the skin beneath them dark and hollow. His crow’s feet have multiplied. “I gotta sleep, Randy, or we’re gonna end up in a ditch.” 

After a beat of careful consideration, Randy nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I could–I can drive.” 

The car lurches to the right as Benson pulls over immediately, puts it in park and slumps in his seat. His head falls back against the headrest and he digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Fuck.” 

Randy watches him with an intent he can feel but can’t parse, hasn’t been able to parse all day and the night before and the day before that. He stopped being scared, really scared, a while ago. Fear still gnaws at the edges of him, jittery and mean like rats in the walls, but it’s not the same.

He’s no longer afraid Benson might kill him. He’s afraid he might decide he doesn’t need him anymore. And those are different things. 

Benson’s big hands drop into his lap. He stares blankly through the windshield at the half-set sun, exhausted.

Randy has the urge to touch him. To clap a hand on his shoulder, give it a little shake. He plays it out in his head. Yeah, man. I’ll drive for a while. Don’t worry about it. Get some rest.

His hands stay clasped between his thighs. 

“Don’t really know where we’re goin’, so I guess you can just pick a direction,” Benson says. “Anywhere but back that way.” He shoots Randy a pointed look, but the point is dull and bleary. 

Randy nods. “North. I got it.” You can trust me. I know that sounds like bullshit, but it’s not.

Benson pours out of the car like his bones are dissolving. He stretches mightily, arches his back and groans loudly, and Randy flinches and doesn’t know why. 

He gets out and the breeze hits his face, smells a little like home and a little bit different. He gazes down the highway, tracks it all the way to where it disappears beyond a sun-washed hill. He’s never been this far north before, never been out of Louisiana except for a family reunion in Florida one time. 

He wonders, for a second, if maybe they could see them all. All fifty states. Benson’s car might not make it that many miles. But it would be something. It would be cool. 

“You sure you’re good?” 

Randy turns, squints into the sun. Benson is lit from behind, face in shadow, but Randy can feel his eyes, the way they probe like fingers at his mouth, his neck. 

“I’m good.” 

Benson taps his fist against the roof of the car. “Super.” 

They trade sides, cross paths in front of the bumper. Randy slides into the seat and it’s still warm from Benson’s body. He feels like he's sitting in his shadow. He's been wearing his shirt for two days now, the smell of stale cigarette smoke working itself into his skin. It's like he's being assimilated, wrapped in a cocoon of brash words and an army green jacket. He presses his spine against the backrest and folds his arms around himself without thinking about it. 

Benson yanks open the door and snaps him out of it. He sits forward and feels under the seat for the lever to slide it up a few inches, touches something sticky, makes a face. Benson’s got longer legs than he does, even though they're about the same height. Benson is big in Randy's mind. Or maybe Randy is small. Does Benson think he's small?

Like he can read his mind, or thinks he can, Benson shoves his seat way back. “Jesus, Randy, you’re allowed to take up space,” he mutters as he pushes the backrest almost horizontal. 

No one’s ever told him that before. Does Benson know no one’s told him that before? 

“Don’t wreck my fucking car.” 

“I won’t.” 

“And don’t get pulled over.” 

“I won’t.” 

Benson nods once like a punctuation mark. “Good boy.” 

Randy exhales heavily. 

He buckles up, hesitates as he sets his hands on the wheel. Ten and two. He slides them together to meet at twelve, where Benson always grips the wheel with half a hand, pointing at things, eyes anywhere but the road, talking with his whole body. Then he slides them back to ten and two, at least for now. One thing at a time.

He signals before he pulls back onto the road even though there’s not another car in sight. He presses the gas gently, like he’s wiping a smudge off someone’s cheek. And just like that, they're back on their way.

Benson’s car is old as shit and runs like it’s doing him a favor. It takes Randy a minute to get used to it, the resistance of the pedals and the way the wheel is about as sensitive as the bottom of a work boot. He’s careful with it, not because it’s old or unreliable, but because it’s his. Because he’s trusting him with it. 

He’s the driver now. 

Benson moves in his periphery, fast and sudden like he does, and without meaning to Randy jerks, jerks the wheel. Benson gives him a look, reaching around for something in the backseat. “Sorry,” Randy mumbles. 

“Just be cool,” Benson says with his jacket in his hands. He balls it up to use as a pillow, shifts around, settles in and shuts his eyes. 

Be cool, Randy repeats to himself. Be cool, be cool. 

“Are you…going to buckle your seatbelt?” he asks. He’s been waiting to ask. Now seems like the last opportune moment. 

Benson opens his eyes and looks at him like he’s grown a second head. “What are you, a fuckin’ cop?” 

Randy feels his face flush. He looks away. “Sorry. Do whatever you want.” 

“You know if you slam on the brakes and I’m layin’ down like this I’m goin’ through the windshield, seatbelt or no.” 

“Do whatever you want,” Randy says again. “I’m just…trying to be safe.” 

Benson grabs the seatbelt, yanks it across his chest, clicks it into place with attitude. “Happy?” 

Randy glances at him and away, almost smiles in spite of himself. Yeah. “Yeah.” For once, he thinks he might really mean it. 

Benson grumbles and closes his eyes. He fidgets for a while, bullies the jacket into a different shape, but soon he falls still and quiet. Randy figures he has nothing left in the tank after the events of the last thirty-six hours, nothing more to give to Randy or anybody else.

He drives like the backseat is full of fine china, nice and easy, until Benson starts to snore. It's a cute snore, kind of nasally and pitched higher than his voice. He slams the door on that thought the moment it arrives, shoos it away and casts a guilty look over at Benson.

He’s never seen him look so at peace. There's a tension missing from his face, a furrow between his brows that Randy only registers in its absence. He wonders if he has nightmares like Randy has nightmares. Probably. Probably worse. But there’s no sign of them now; he’s too wiped out. 

Now that he’s not waving a gun around and yelling, he resembles the old Benson. The guy who greeted him at the start of each shift with a casual wave and nothing to say. The man who moved like he was in a dream, seemed checked out completely until you caught his eye and realized he hadn't missed a second of what was going on around him. Not even the little things. Not even Randy.

As the miles wear on, he wonders which Benson is more real, the quiet one or the loud one. Maybe they’re two sides of the same coin. Maybe everyone has someone else inside of them, raw and bright, harder to swallow. Randy always figured he was the only one slumming around with that particular burden–the monster of his guilt, his anger, feelings too big to unbottle lest they rip him in half–but maybe he was wrong. He's been wrong a lot the last couple days. 

It doesn’t probably matter which is more real because he likes them both:  the Benson who once followed him out the back door under the guise of a smoke break to make sure he was okay after a particularly egregious run-in with Chris, and the Benson who beat the shit out of his own personal boogeyman in the parking lot of an elementary school until his hands bled. Randy understands both of them. Feels a connection to both of them. Knows he can count on both of them when it matters. 

Randy leans back and feels it then, feels it all, the world shrinking behind them, the past pinned to it like a poster on a corkboard, the dying sun to his left and the man on his right and Benson’s fingerprints worn into the leather of the steering wheel. And it's exhilarating, it's amazing. It's freedom and possibility. Hope, even.

And he desperately, deep in his bones, wants to be someone Benson can count on. When it matters or doesn't. He knows he isn’t a fighter or a talker, but he cares. He cares so fucking much sometimes he wants to bite through his own tongue. Maybe that could be worth something. For the first time, sitting in the driver's seat on the run from the law, he thinks maybe that might be enough. He might be enough. 

He has Benson to thank for that, too.

He hasn't felt like this since he was a kid. Maybe ever. Light. Free. The way the highway unfolds in front of him forever makes him feel like maybe he could fly. He kind of wishes it would rain and he can't say why. Only that he wants the air to smell like wet asphalt, like dirt. 

And he wants to thank Benson. He doesn’t think he can, like, he can’t just say it. Thanks for killing all those people. It really opened my eyes. Thanks for scaring me shitless, I needed that. No way. He’s gotta be cool. Find some other way.

He reads the names of towns he’s never heard of on the highway sign. They’ll have to stop somewhere eventually, right? Get a motel room or something. Benson deserves to sleep in a real bed. Randy would love to sleep in a real bed. Probably they’ve got to lay low a little while longer. Probably two states north isn’t far enough. 

Benson drives like a grandma. Randy hasn’t said anything, but he figures they could be at least to the border of Iowa by now if Benson wasn’t so hung up on driving three miles under the speed limit and calling it “flying under the radar,” even as cars peeled by them on all sides. 

But he’s the driver now. 

He realizes this is something he can do. A way to repay him, just a little bit. Randy didn’t get them into this mess, not exactly, but he can get them far, far away from it. Safety, serenity. A place where no one knows their faces. He can find that for Benson. He can take him there. He can make sure he wakes up somewhere better than the shithole behind them.

He eases his foot down on the gas, coaxes the needle on the speedometer up and over 80. The car huffs a protest, but it obeys. 

Good boy, he thinks, and he smiles. 

Benson stirs just after they leave Iowa. It’s still dark out, but the horizon is starting to bleed pink. He sits up slowly, stretches, nearly elbows Randy in the face. “Fuck,” he groans, “what time is it?” 

“Breakfast time, almost,” Randy says. “Just looking for somewhere to stop.” 

Benson blinks around the sleep in his eyes, peers through the window into the dark rushing by. “Where are we?” 

“Wisconsin. Or maybe Minnesota. I’m not…a hundred percent sure.” 

Benson furrows his brow. “Jesus Christ, Randy. You break the fuckin' sound barrier?”

“No,” Randy says calmly. “Everyone speeds on the interstate. You just keep an eye on it, it's fine.”

Benson gives him a long look and for a second, Randy thinks he might be mad. But then he breaks into a grin, chuckles, shakes his head and stretches again. His shirt rides up and in the dark of the dawn Randy can just make out the triangle of hair on his stomach. He bites his cheek. 

“Speed Demon Bradley. Who’d’ve thought.” Benson yanks the backrest up, sits back and looks out with fresh eyes on new scenery. “You got a destination in mind, captain?”

Randy does. Has for the last few hundred miles. “Yeah. I was thinking…maybe Lake Superior?”

“What's so superior about it?”

“I don't know, it's…really big. Like…huge. I just thought…it would probably be pretty. I’d–I’d like to see it.” With you. I'd like you to be there too.

He glances over and Benson is staring at him with an odd look on his face. 

“...what?” Randy says. 

Benson starts nodding, frowning thoughtfully, then reaches over and thumps Randy on the chest. “Then let's go see it.”

The impact echoes through his heart and lungs. “Yeah?”

“Fuck yeah. Randy makin’ decisions.” Benson claps his hands once, loud. “I like it. You wanna go see some big fuckin’ lake? I'm all for it.”

Randy fights a grin and doesn't know why, so he stops, lets it come, feels the stretch of it across his face. “Cool.”

Randy looks over and thinks he’s beautiful. Bloody knuckles, bad attitude, and all. He lets that thought linger for one, two, three seconds before it blows out the window like a wayward receipt.

“Cool.”

Benson rolls down the window and sticks his head out like a dog. The air whipping into the car smells nothing like home. His hair blows back and he squints into the wind, the early sun kissing his cheeks pink. 

“I can take over,” Benson offers over his shoulder. “I’m guessin' you need a break.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Randy squeezes his hands on the wheel at ten and two. “I got it. I'm good.”

And he really means it.

[misspearlssideblog]

Honestly, I'm feeling too very strong emotions right now: one is speechless, the other is to burst out and ramble so hard about how good this fic is. I'm going with the latter. (Lengthy feedback under the cut)

HOLY SHIT DUDE! 😲

This story has me on the edge of my seat. I'm not exaggerating here, but at one point my heart started pumping quicky and I felt so anxious (when Joel, Maria and Tommy were marching over). I literally felt so guilty and worried on female characters behalf. And that right there, is some good fucking writing. You made me feel exactly what she is feeling, but I'm invested to know what she done to betray the Miller brothers too. I'm super invested in how she is going to turn things around and prove herself a worthy place in Jackson.

I feel so bad for reader, but I also feel bad for Joel and Tommy too. The way you have wrote their anger really fits each character. Tommy is disappointed and angry but isn't as explosive as Joel. And when you wrote him storming out the room, my stomach churned only to feel a little worse from Tommy's words: ‘Sorry don’t do much around here, might want to think of a way of showing it.’

I love this, love the way he is subtly telling her there is a way to fix her mistakes and there's a possibility of forgiveness. It's reassuring. Although it's angsty, I like the amount of angst your adding (I'm not into really heavy angst). You're teasing me here, darling. I love how you're gradually adding a little of the past in there, but mannn is it making me so desperate to find out everything. (Don't let my desperate get in the way though hehe).

Also, I'd like to mention how much I'm liking Sandra. It's giving me supportive side character vibes and I like that. I like how she is looking out for reader. Very good work, as always. I'm in love with this story so far and I look forward to the next part!

Thank you for tagging me, darling. 🥰

Best Kept Secret - Part Two

As promised, here's the second part for Best Kept Secret (my first little venture into The Last of Us fandom). Again, big thank you to @misspearly1 for being the inspiration behind this!

Warnings: Mild description of injury.

It had stopped snowing during the night and you managed to hobble out of the little cabin you were sharing with Bonnie, Greg and Astrid. You liked them all well enough, what little conversation you had managed with them all, but you had mostly spent your first few days healing and sleeping. You still struggled to pull your new boots on, your left ankle had been twisted and swollen, but was gradually getting better. The right had taken less damage, but with how your boots had been ruined a sharp stone or piece of glass had cut your foot and it had needed stitches.

The first rays of pearly sunlight glimmered over the horizon, your breath misting and slowly circling skywards. It made a nice change to the stuffy silence of your bedroom. Bonnie, Greg and Astrid kept themselves busy around the town or they were out on patrol or a supply run, they rarely stopped by to keep you company. There were only a few people out and about, most getting an early start to see if there were any supplies at a nearby town or clearing away the snow from the pathways. You leaned heavily against the porch railing, trying to stretch out your aching muscles, they weren’t used to long periods of lethargy anymore.

‘Morning, you’re meant to be resting up!’

You looked up and saw that Sandra was approaching you, her arms folded over her chest but an amused smile on her lips.

‘I just needed some air, don’t plan on running a marathon or anything like that,’ you replied.

‘Good. Hey, if you want something to do, I can always ask around town, there’s usually someone with some basic chore that needs doing. You got any skills?’

‘Skills? Like what?’ you asked.

‘I don’t know. Sewing, knitting, something like that.’

‘I can sew a bit.’ You hoped that whatever clothes Sandra might bring you would only need buttons sewing back on or patching something up. You knew the basics, but you weren’t an expert. But considering how messed up your feet were, there was no chance of you helping out with gardening or looking after horses or repairing cars or anything like that. ‘Or sit at a table and chop veg or something.’

Sandra nodded, then smiled. ‘Might be easier to bring the sewing stuff over to you, but hey, if the kitchens need a hand I’ll see if Joel can carry you to them!’

‘No!’ you exclaimed quickly and then felt yourself flush as Sandra gave you a quick, keen look. ‘It’s nice that he helped out, but I don’t want to be carried around like a baby.’

‘Hey, it’s ok. I was only joking, Y/N. Joel doesn’t mind, you know, about carrying you to the medic room. Not like you’re the first one who’s ever got to Jackson with an injury and needed some help.’

‘Yeah… well, I don’t want to be a burden.’ You were struggling to stay standing and took a seat on the wooden porch bench. Sandra walked closer to you and leaned against one of the posts.

‘Look, we’ve all been there. But this town is good, life is about relying on each other a little. Sometimes being a burden is alright. But I know, it’s a hard mentality to break out of, when it’s been everything you’ve known.’

You gazed down at your stiff, sore legs and scratched your nails against your jeans. It wasn’t that simple. If Joel talked about what happened, would you even be able to trust anyone in Jackson? Would they trust you? The town had sounded like a wonderful, golden haven, a promise land that you had fought tooth and nail to get to, but now…

‘Oh, looks like you’ve got the welcoming committee turning up!’ Sandra said brightly.

You looked up and felt your stomach clench tightly, your throat constricted. You got to your feet, ignoring the stab of pain that ran through your legs, as you leaned too heavily on your left. Joel was walking towards you, doing nothing to hide the contemptuous glare he wore. With him was another man you recognised, Joel’s brother Tommy, and a woman you did not. You hovered awkwardly by the door, wondering whether it was best for you to run inside and hide or to offer some sort of welcome. None of them looked pleased to see you.

‘Well, guess I’ll get that sewing,’ Sandra said, evidently reading the group’s expression and deciding it was best for her to not get involved. She gave you a quick nod, then headed past the group, greeting them as she walked by. The three moved closer towards you. Tommy was talking quickly and quietly to Joel, perhaps persuading him not to tear you limb from limb.

‘Good to see you’re up,’ the woman commented. ‘I’m Maria and this is… well, think you’re old friends with my husband, Tommy, and Joel, hm? Think it’s best if we talk inside.’

You obediently hobbled inside. In any other circumstance you would not want to sit down and put yourself into a position of weakness with no means of escape. But your legs felt too shaky and weak to keep you upright and you took a seat on the only armchair in the room, already feeling like a chastised kid who had been caught stealing candy. You wished that had been your crime. Tommy took a seat on the couch opposite, Maria leaned against the arm of the couch and Joel kept his stiff, standoffish guard by the door, arms folded over his chest. He didn’t even look your way, and you weren’t quite sure what was worse, having his furious glare on you or having him pretend you didn’t even exist.

Tommy offered a bitter smile. ‘Would say it’s good to see you again, Y/N, but I’m not sure if Joel or I think that.’

‘Joel told us who you were last night, what you did,’ Maria said, evidently keen to cut to the chase.

You uncomfortably shifted in the seat. What could you possibly say? That it was an accident? That you didn’t mean it to happen? That you were sorry? That you had been scared and didn’t think you would make it if you stayed there?

‘This place is built on trust. On all of us working together, thinking about others first. It doesn’t work without a degree of selflessness. And that doesn’t mean being stupid or taking unnecessary risk,’ Maria continued.

‘You need to leave,’ Joel growled, and you looked up at him, he was still keeping his focus on the kitchen door and hallway, rather than on you. ‘Soon as you’ve healed up.’

Your mouth dropped open, your heart squeezing painfully in your chest. It seemed impossible to think that Joel would turn against you to such an extent that he was willing to toss you out of Jackson and let you either freeze or starve to death or else get caught up by a group of runners. But you quickly pressed your lips tightly together. You couldn’t blame him. You had hurt and betrayed him in the worse way possible. Even now you could feel the waves of anger that was pouring off him.

Maria shook her head and looked back at you; her brow furrowed as though trying to understand your intentions. ‘Joel thinks you need to leave. I think everyone deserves one more chance, but only one more. Luckily for you I run this place, so I say you can stay. But if you slip up, just once, I’ll ask you to leave.’

You swallowed nervously and nodded. You bit your lip hard. ‘Thank you,’ you mumbled. ‘I know it’s not going to make much difference, but I am truly-’ but before you could even finish your apology, Joel had marched out the house, letting the door thud loudly behind him.

Maria sighed and got to her feet, Tommy following shortly after. ‘You know Joel better than most, actions speak louder than words to him,’ Tommy said.

‘I really am sorry,’ you said, desperately looking up at Tommy, as though hoping he would give you some sense of approval and forgiveness. But even in your ears, the words sounded so utterly pathetic, meaningless against the sin you had committed.

He gave a nonchalant shrug. ‘Sorry don’t do much around here, might want to think of a way of showing it.’

They both left the house and you sank down into the armchair, wishing that it would just swallow you up or that Joel had exploded with anger and said all that needed to be said, rather than leaving you like this. You hated it. You hated feeling guilty and you hated feeling uncertain how the hell you could fix all of this mess, you hated thinking about how Joel was probably telling the whole goddamn town what a piece of shit you were and how much you damn well deserved it. You deserved to be known as a liar and a coward. Tears prickled at the corner of your eyes, but you furiously blinked them back. There was little point in feeling sorry for yourself. You alone had got yourself into this mess and you alone would have to get yourself out of it.