Actions

Work Header

Rating:
Archive Warnings:
Categories:
Fandom:
Relationships:
Characters:
Additional Tags:
Language:
English
Collections:
Anonymous
Stats:
Published:
2024-02-06
Updated:
2025-03-11
Words:
6,331
Chapters:
4/?
Comments:
26
Kudos:
140
Bookmarks:
13
Hits:
2,494

"He Was Always Such a Nice, Quiet Boy."

Anonymous

Summary:

Running from gunfire, you find yourself face-to-face with the Paradise Killer himself. Though, what if his heart gravitated more towards you than his weapon ever could? And what if his strange ways made you feel... funny?

Notes:

Guys omgggg first Postal fic! ik i tagged a bit of NSFW but this first chapter is just background. :3 Cringe warning btwww

Chapter 1: ARS 13-3101 states...

Chapter Text

The scenery raced beside you, foliage blurring by as you limped away from the sound of gunfire. Fuck Arizona and this open-carry policy, you thought to yourself, holding your side where you got shot as the tears in your eyes blurred the landscape around you.

Every step was a burning pain that pierced through your muscles, amplifying as your leg made contact with a protruding root your eyes couldn’t catch, being thrown onto the grassy floor. The leaves crunched under you, something you weren’t aware of due to the pain clouding your mind. Though you reckoned it wouldn’t help much, maneuvering to be seated on your ass made you feel a tad safer.

You didn’t know what quite caused the gunfight, but all you knew was that you were caught in it, and you were subsequently hit in it. There was news of a crazed gunman roaming Paradise, that definitely would have contributed to what you could only describe as mass hysteria from the past few weeks.

A few short breaths brought your thoughts back to the present, surveying the area around you. Maybe taking off running into the nearest place away from civilian life may not have been the best course of action, due to the fact that you had no idea where you could even be, let alone where.

You looked down to see the leaves around you being painted a deep crimson, somewhat beautiful if the pigment that was producing it wasn’t essential to your life. You didn’t know how much longer your adrenaline would last before you would begin to feel the full effects of your bullet wounds.

Will I even live that long? You asked yourself as you saw the silhouette of a man approaching you. You didn’t even consider that you ran when the sun was going down, there was no way you’d survive the night, cryptic man or not.

A chuckle arose from him as he neared you, hands off the shotgun strapped to his back, though noticeably still poised to grab if needed. His long hair had the same deep rogue hue as the blood on him did, and even if it didn’t cover his eyes, the worn sunglasses he wore certainly did. He pushed them up his nose as he took a sigh after his laughing fit.

“Oh, did that hurt?” his lips peeled back into an unnerving smile, the silver of the brackets on his braces contrasting with the surprising white of his teeth.

Your hands dug behind you as your good leg pushed you further away from him, slightly squirming in pain as your body reacted to being moved while pierced from a bullet. You didn’t quite know what this was trying to achieve, as this man, from height alone, could easily have outrun you.

He didn’t seem to mind your attacks in the form of small kicks as he approached you. “You should remain still when injured” he informed, though you were almost certain this man was not here to give you medical advice with all the weapons on his person. He cocked his shotgun, though not aiming it yet. “Here, let me help y-”

“ Please please don’t kill me ” You didn’t even register the words that were coming out of your mouth, trying to hit any vocabulary that meant that the man would at least leave you for dead and not kill you like this. “I’ll, I’ll do any uh, anything. Please just don’t kill me, let something else do it…”

Your hands were still placed in front of your face, eyes closed until you braved a look and saw that his shotgun was out of his hands once more. You couldn’t tell what he was focusing on due to his glasses covering his pupils, but from the way his head was fixated on your wounds, you assumed he was debating on what to do with you.

You hadn’t noticed in all of your scares that the corners of your vision were going dark, and your head felt like it was magnetized to the floor by some all-powerful force. You vaguely recognized how the blood that was once a simple blotch around your right side had now become somewhat of a puddle, feeling the overwhelming urge to take a nap right then and there.

Your last few conscious moments were spent feeling him throw you over his shoulder, seeing the trail of deep red that you had unknowingly left during your trek here. While he didn’t kill you, you dreaded to think of just what he was going to do with you. You closed your eyes and let sleep take over you as each of his steps rocked you ever so slightly.

After all, he was quite pretty…

Chapter 2: Can Your Kisses Warm Me Up?

Summary:

Maybe this man isn't so nefarious after all...

Notes:

YES IK HE IS OOC HOP OFF MY MEAT😭

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Your eyes opened with a groan, blinking to focus your vision. Your surroundings had a thick musk of smoke and the smell of whatever shitty Black Ice air freshener was mixed in did not do wherever you were any favors.

The wool of the fingerless glove that pushed your hair out of your face felt scratchy, but the contrast of the cold fingers inside of it felt nice. Your forehead was burning, and you vaguely felt trapped in your own sticky sheen of sweat on your body, very uncommon for living in such a dry place as Arizona.

The man appeared once more in your vision, the angle you had to view him at unceremoniously showing part of the dark circles under those mysterious eyes. What kind of fucking psychopath wears sunglasses inside? , you thought to yourself.

While he still carried that imposing aura, this time, the man was… nicer. His eyebrows seemed less angry and more nervous, his previous posture of confidence substituted with a slouched back. His head scanned over your body, stopping at your face when he saw your open and slowly blinking eyes.

“Oh, you’re up already, damn I’m good!” His deep voice, that of which now had some softness in it, would never fail to catch you off guard. “Bullets got’cha pretty bad, you’re pretty good on blood, though you got yourself a fever.” He emphasized his words by taking off one of his gloves and feeling your forehead with his knuckles.

He disappeared into another room as you worked to put your elbows underneath you, trying to will your upper half to get up at least a little bit. If you were in a house with a murderer, you’d be a fool to at least not be as prepared as you could be. Though, you knew that this man could most likely crush you with relative ease.

He arrived back as you wearily daydreamed about all the horrible instances in which he could take your life, stopping in front of you with a bag of ice in one hand. His free hand came closer to you, stopping at your chest. He gestured his head down, though you didn’t seem to understand what he was getting at.

“C’mon, you gotta lay down” he muttered, planting the pads of his fingers on your chest as he slowly pushed your body back down onto what you now understood to be a couch. “Good girl” he whispered, barely audible as he pushed your hair off your face and put the bag of ice on your forehead. Maybe he didn’t say that and you were just delirious? You could have sworn your body got even hotter in that moment.

His head tilted as you stared, glasses falling slightly down his face as he smirked at you. “What is it?”, he chuckled, “Is there something on my face?”

You stuttered to find words, though he just ruffled his hands through your hair while he laughed at your flustered state. Though you just met this man –what you assumed was– yesterday, you felt the overwhelming urge to squeeze your thighs together and find something to rub against once you’re alone.

It was around this time that you noticed your sweater and jeans were nowhere to be found. Instead, your clothing was swapped with a tank top and shorts, both of which were multiple sizes too big for your body.

You thought to question the man, though you already knew the answer. People aren’t supposed to wear warm clothes during fevers, of course he would change your outfit for you. Though, a not-so-small part of you hoped silently that the man may have also been harboring some ulterior motives.

You jolted your body, scaring the man back as you realized where your mind was headed. The ice was doing little to cool your face, thoughts of you and him flooding your mind like a river after a dam breakage. And though you didn’t want to admit it, that reservoir wasn’t the only thing that was getting dangerously wet.

“Woah, woah woah!” he sputtered, holding his hands up defensively. “Now don’t be freakin’ out on me,” You were somewhat thankful for his lack of social skills, because he seemed completely oblivious to the problem at hand. “I didn’t take you in like this just to shoot your brains out, now did I, sweetheart?”

Your breath caught in your throat. Curse this stupid motherfucker and these lines, he probably hasn’t ever felt the touch of a woman! , you thought to yourself. Though your feelings were spinning, it always circled back to the way he just seemed… different .

Nobody in your neighborhood you could relate to. They all seemed like husks, bodies without a brain piloting them. The whole world felt like that as of late. When did all the children move out of this place? You pondered. That was a drawback when you moved here, having to hear the children playing outside. But little by little, those sounds ceased, the school’s board proudly showing “upcoming” events that took place weeks ago.

But him? This man who tried to kill you upon first meeting and kidnapped you directly after? He wasn’t like them. You could even see it in the way he moved. Uncalculated, intentional though very clearly thought up on the spot. Run, think, shoot, live . Did he play video games?

You found the sudden urge to want to get to know him better. What’s his name? What are his hobbies? Why did he help me? Does he think the same way I do? What’s his ty-

You saw fingers snapping in front of your face. “Hey, you sure you’re okay?” I must’ve zoned out again.

He frowned in skepticism when you nodded your head, fumbling with something in his hands. You attempted yet again to get up and look at it, but he once again pushed you back down.

“Managed to find an actual thermometer for you”, he muttered. His mouth formed into a smile, and you couldn’t help but try to hide your own at the sight. “You know the drill for these types of thermometers: face down, ass up.”

Your eyes blew wide, a look of fear plastered onto your face as you stared at him, only stopping to calm yourself when you saw him sputter a small laugh, with a light sigh, ghosting the words of “ just fuckin’ with you ”.

“Nah, this is a normal mouth one”, he informed, matter-of-factly. Before you could do anything, he used his free hand to grasp your jaw. “Say ‘ahh’ for me~”, he trilled, not waiting even a second before opening your mouth himself and placing the thermometer under your tongue.

Your eyes desperately searched for a place to gaze upon, anywhere but his face. The way his thumb glided over your cheek was enough to almost make you sputter, though you tried to keep your cool as you felt his breath ghost over your face.

The thermometer beeped all too soon, and just as quick as he appeared to take up all of your vision, he left just as quick. You hated the fact that you wanted more, just to be that close to him was exhilarating. He titled his head as he read the temperature reading, catching your attention with a hand cupping the side of your face.

“Uh, you never told me, who are you, where am I?” you mumbled to him, collapsing in on yourself as the words to the second question spilled out of your mouth without a second thought. “Are you going to kill me?”

He cocked his head as he looked at you, the ghost of a smirk appearing on his lips. “Well, you’re at my place. And if I wanted to kill you, I would’ve already done it.”, he answered, crossing his arms.

“Well, why are you sparing me? Why not just kill me to get me out of your hair?” You didn’t even know what you were saying at this point. “You didn’t even answer who you ar-”

“You sure do ask a lot of questions.”, he interrupted. “You’re still sick, you must be awful tired. I say it’s time to go to bed, I think that’s enough for a while.”

“Okay, whatever, dude.” You laughed, “I’ll just start callin’ you that, since you wanna be all secretive with me.”

He laughed along with you, carding his fingers through your hair. “Well, I er,” his demeanor slightly changed, the way he fiddled with his hands making it more apparent. “I don’t reckon this old couch is too comfortable, yeah? You can, you know…”

You knew what he was trying to offer, but you didn’t feel like letting him get the satisfaction quite yet. You tilted your head, humming a small “Hm?” from your throat.

“Well, what I mean is, sick people need to sleep. And my couch, it’s not the best . You can uh, take my bed…”

It appeared as if the most interesting thing to keep his eyes on was far away from you at this moment, you suppressed your giggle at how suddenly shy this murderer had become in the face of social interaction, not just when giving quips and flirty one-liners.

“I can sleep on the couch no worries!”, he quickly added. “I don’t get that much sleep anyways.”

Now was your time to shine. “Who said you needed to sleep on the couch?” you questioned, realizing only moments later that Dude was definitely not the sharpest tool in the shed with speaking to others.

“This house has one bedroom.” He answered, matter-of-factly. “I can only sleep on the couch. I guess the floor is an option? I mean, I’ve slept there befo-”
“With me!” You offered, exasperated at how dense this once sly man can suddenly be. “You can sleep with me. You said the couch isn’t comfortable, right?”

“But won’t that get me sick, too?”

“ Please!” , you groaned. You swore you could see him blink in surprise behind his glasses. “I get nightmares a lot when I’m sick.”, you lied. No matter how much you wanted to convince yourself that fever dreams were the cause of your want to be with him through the night, you couldn’t deny your feelings for the man himself.

“Ohhhh…” Dude muttered in understanding, wasting no time in picking you up under your legs and back to walk you to his bed. It would be almost romantic, if your nasal cavity didn’t feel like it was filled with cement.

He carefully set you down, and while his bed wasn’t much better than the couch, the feeling somehow improved the moment he laid down next to you. You thanked whatever law Reagan put in place that this man was too poor for a bed that properly fit his terrifying height, as you both had to be close to eachother to fit.

And as sleep overtook you, you swore that in your last conscious moments, you felt your limbs wrap around someone warm.

Someone warm, whose arms held you in addendum.

Notes:

I love how autistic he is i wanna swat at him like a small insect or perhaps bug

Chapter 3: Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want...

Summary:

Dreaming, dreaming, dreaming...

Notes:

Erm tw for self harm guyssss it's not directly stated all that he does but it's basically confirmed all that's really mentioned is some noises and gauze on dude's arm along with dude being autistic as alwayssss <3

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

It tormented you, the expression on Dude’s face as a drop of sweat fell off his hooked nose. Sunglasses long gone, you were disappointed to look above you and see how his eyes scrunched up, you couldn’t look into them.

The echoes of whimpers and panting filled the room. Dude’s hair fell past his shoulders to perfectly frame his face, a magnificent sight analogous to the work of an artist whose hands were sculpted from the clay of God. The soft, red halo around his face that of an angel, no matter how sinful the action you two were engaging in. His acne looked a bit irritated from the sweat and heat, though that was hardly noticeable when your gaze was situated on the blissed-out look he had.

It felt like an itch inside of you was being scratched, your slight discomfort fading away with the immense pleasure you felt. Your arms wrapped around his back, clawing at it as he quickened his pace and leaned down to press a rough kiss to your neck, though you were certain it was more like a bite than anything else. The metal of his brackets dug into your skin with more intensity than any bone of his misaligned teeth could.

You could tell he was trying to keep himself together, you knew it was just a matter of time before it snapped. You and him both. Your body already overheated, your eyes rolled back as you felt the pressure mounting. And- and- and-

You awoke with a jolt, your eyes flung open to see naught but a sliver of moonlight from Dude’s barely opened windows. You turned your head to the empty spot in the bed, eyes instead drawn to the yellow light cascading from the bottom of the room attached to the one you were in.

Your nose was notably plugged in one nostril, probably the side that you slept on. You strained your ears to listen in on Dude’s actions, hearing a repetitive metallic scrape. A raggedy breath drew in every few or so, and a small whimper he let out had you even more curious. You would have simply gone back to your thoughts and ignored any other sounds, had it not been for the ever-so-audible “ please -” that graced past your ears.

Though, the sweet sounds he made stopped all too soon, as a gasp, followed by the loud clanging of a metal object and a hushed yet emotional “ aw fuck!” startled you back. The quick ripping of paper –and what you could only assume was tape– trailed closely after.

You made a move to get out of bed and help the man, though were quickly stopped by a wave of pain through your leg and abdomen. You begrudgingly let yourself slump back to your original position. Stupid fucking gunshot. From your inability to move, you managed to croak out a “Everything okay?” over to him, hoping he heard it over your sore and dry throat.

“Oh, eugh, yeah. I’m uh,” You could hear him scrambling around in there, it would be somewhat adorable if not for the situation itself. “I’m good, don’t worry ‘bout me!”

The door to the room opened before Dude remembered to turn off the light, letting you catch a quick glance of the gauze wrapping around his left forearm. Did he have that before? He scrambled back to turn off the light as you wondered to yourself how jerking off could possibly cause that.

“Sorry I woke ya’ up…”, he whispered as he climbed back into bed with you. “I accidentally dropped my, er, my razor…”

You took a chance to feel his hair, tucking it behind his ear before pulling him closer to you by his small waist. “Oh don’t worry,” you teased him. “I’ve been there, y’know…” You grinned that you were able to elicit a small gasp out of him.

“Oh, you too..? How, uh…” He hesitated a moment before asking. “ Sorry if this is intrusive or anything , but er, how long have ya’ been… uh,  yeah… How long?” You found his hesitation strange. Surely he’s not all choked up about the topic of man’s oldest hobby ?

“Eh, probably since puberty.”, you answered honestly. “That’s usually around when it starts for most people, you know?” Maybe you overshare a bit too much, but that’s his problem.

“Oh, yeah. That’s real common. Mine started rampin’ up around 11 or so, but I’ve been doin’ it since about 6? Maybe younger? I’ve always harmed but started cutting later, y’know?”

You stayed silent as it clicked.

The situation you found amusing mere minutes before now was plagued with your realization. Your mind was caught within a storm of a million thoughts, none of them any good. All the emotions you had no words for circled within that storm.

Your body moved quicker than your mind as your arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him closer to you as you held his head to your chest. You couldn’t think of what to say, nor did you think you needed to. The way his shoulders untensed under your touch while you ran your fingers through his hair said more than enough.

You took a breath and attempted to explain yourself. “I’m so sorry, I thought you meant-”

“I know” He chuckled lightly as he held you to him, identical to your own grasp. “It’s all good…”

You wished there was something you could do to help him, but maybe it might’ve been just a bit too invasive. He would finally come to his senses and blow your head off your shoulders. But as your eyes adjusted to the light, you became set on his features.

His face looked much different asleep. His features less stressed, an aura of halcyonity brought with the slight pout you noticed his resting expression always had. You could only wonder what he thought about in his sleep. Paradise? His childhood? Guns?... You?

As sleep whisked you away to another world within Dude’s arms, your mind did not race, merely walked. You wished that dreams could be shared, a thought that had never crossed your mind before.

God, what was this man doing to you?

Notes:

guys idk if i'm good enough to be able to finish this series off with an actual sex scene i feel so guilty writing them i feel like I'm playing look behind you simulatorrr😭😭🤧

anyways guys I'm 54 days clean b/c I have a bf and I don't wanna cut anymore for him but I've been REALLYYYY craving cutting like one of those intense cereal cravings so I'm writing a little s/h i can have a little s/h writing (as a treat). I'm thinking abt writing a more graphic thing of Dude himself nobody else just him and his blades to kinda get me through it idk thooooo... but yeah i hope yall liked it i'm super shabby plus updates slow asf and my ideas are kinda cliche and dry af but i'm TRYING OKAY

anyways thank yall so much for all the love and support!! it genuinely makes me smile whenever i get the notif on my phone i'm like kicking my legs up and down in my bed laying on my stomach yk how it is okay sorry for talking so much bye bye kiss kiss

Chapter 4: It's So Comfy, I'd Hate To Leave...

Summary:

A morning with him, here's hope maybe sparks can fly like confetti.

Notes:

so you're never gonna believe this

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

He was leaning more and more of his weight onto you, back slouched forward and hair covering his features as his face rested inches above your skin in exhaustion. The arms that were on either side of you were wobbling, and you could feel his hot breath on your skin as he panted.

You took that as a sign, and he made no effort to stop you as you pushed him back so you could climb on top of him. Sweat sticking his hair to his forehead, Dude covered his eyes with his forearm as he huffed, mouth agape.

You peeled his arm from his face as you kept the previous rhythm he had going, almost laughing when you saw him whimper and look away in embarrassment. His hands ran to dig into your thighs, occasionally pulling you down and bucking his hips up when the timing was right and he had the energy.

His eyes were rolled up so far all you could see was the white –and red of bloodshot veins– in the sclera. His voice was becoming more hoarse and higher, and you tried desperately to chase your own pleasure so you both matched climaxes.

You both moved your hips erratically, leaning together to join mouths, though it was less of a kiss and more of a spread of saliva than anything else. You felt the mounting pressure, you could tell both you and Dude were seconds away.

You desperately ground your hips into him as you felt yourself reach the breaking point. You knew he was close, too. You felt yourself involuntarily contract around him,

And…

And,

And–

You once again woke up with an ache between your legs and a wetness in your pants. Just another dubiously moral wet dream courtesy of your imagination. As your mind racked your thoughts of Dude, your heart pounded faster upon the realization of your feelings towards him.

You tried to push it out of your mind, making up some excuse about Stockholm Syndrome within your thoughts. However, denying the truth seemed nigh impossible. That suffocating feeling in your chest whenever you lay your eyes on him for too long, that throbbing sensation in your lower stomach that would come along whenever he said certain things, whenever he used that tone of voice…

Your face was heating up just thinking about it, you put the back of your hand to your forehead to provide some relief. While you were thankful that the spot next to you in bed was empty, a twinge of anxiety settled in your stomach as you wondered where he went. He wouldn’t just leave an injured and sick person alone to rot in bed, right?

Right?

Images flashed through your head of how your corpse would look, all manner of animal life feasting on the remains of someone in too much pain to move themselves. The more you thought, the harder you felt your heart beating in your chest. You sniffed to keep tears at bay as the idea popped into your head that Dude had created some large, elaborate ruse just to get his sick kicks.

Any minute now… Any minute now Dude would come in and announce that he was dropping the stunt, that he wanted to get you to empathize with him so his betrayal felt all the more worse. You kept re-convincing yourself over and over, so lost in your own train of thought you couldn’t hear his rickety old front door open.

You jumped when you heard Dude’s voice, swiveling your head away from his window and to the door, seeing him standing awkwardly with a bag in hand. Your mind slowed, and he tried to ease your clear discomfort with a smile. Dude’s forced smiles were always unnerving and showed way too many teeth, but you thought it was the thought that counted.

“Y’know, I went out to the store to buy ya some stuff but there was no staff there, which usually isn’t a problem ‘cuz I use the self-checkout to steal, right?” He began, walking back over to the bed and sitting next to you. “And then, midway through, I realized, wait a minute, I killed everyone! Why would I even have’ta pay for all this? ” He dumped the bag full of items onto the bed as you sat up with a wince and some help from Dude. “So yeah, sorry it took so long.”

You spotted food, drinks, and some cold medicine in the pile. Dude scratched the back of his head when he noticed you looking at it. “I uh, didn’t know what you like, and you were asleep and I didn’t wanna wake you up, so I jus’ kinda got anything I could see…”

Dude’s face was turning redder by the second, and you could’ve sworn it got worse when you pulled him into a side-hug, the best you could do with your limited movement. “Thanks.” You uttered, voice still somewhat uneven from your panicking not minutes ago.

You decided it was the perfect time to take a shot, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. His glasses dropped down the bridge of his nose, and you could see the skin around his eyes moving as he blinked in confusion, staring at you.

“What?! You did something really nice for me, that’s why I gave you the kiss!” You defended yourself, holding your hands up before rummaging for the cold medicine. You read the label as you picked it up. “By the way, is this that flavored kiddy shit, or the horrible normal stuff?” You raised an eyebrow and looked at Dude. “You’re gonna have to help me down it if it’s the normal stuff.”

Dude sighed as he took the bottle from you, and you tried to ignore that your lingering touch was not unshared. “Well sorry I didn’t anticipate you being a sissy…” he mumbled sarcastically, a toothy smile forming on his face as he cracked the seal and unscrewed the lid.

He held the bottle out to you, features turning puzzled as you moved your head away from him and pushed your hands out. He cocked his head in worry and slight confusion, and you elaborated with a disgusted noise. He screwed the lid back on. As you stuck your tongue out to get your point across even more, you caught an ever-so slight change in Dude’s expression.

He started smiling, yes, but there was an atmosphere of something different in it, something that made you suddenly feel like you were a cornered sheep, helplessly trapped by the sadistic wolf that towered over you. His fangs glinted with silver, just as the twin labret studs that rested beneath his cracked lips did.

The particular way he carried himself– no. The particular way he was himself seduced you, herding you away with his piercing eyes and smooth voice, his gaunt fingers and the blood that was always on them because he picked and chewed at them, the freckles that dotted his face, and they told you as a child that freckles were kisses from angels, and how you hoped it wasn’t true because you couldn’t stand the thought of anyone kissing him but you, and how you couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing him again, and-

He was staring at you. “You sure you’re feelin’ alright?” he questioned, and he didn’t seem too placated by your frantic nodding. “You’re all um…” He looked like he was debating on whether or not to say something, stopping his words abruptly and scrunching his face a bit as he then shook his head, glasses falling down his nose. “-uh it’s whatever, just…” he held the bottle of cold medicine up to you, shaking it when you don’t make any move to take it.

“Bleh, it’s gross! I’m not takin’ that!” you groaned, flailing your hand in an attempt to bat it away. “Plus, you need the little cup thingy, you can’t just down it! You gotta get the right amount with the thingy!” At this point you didn’t even know if you truly care about it, as much as you just wanted to push his buttons.

After about 5 minutes of back and forth, you could clearly tell that Dude was done with your shit. You giggled at him, breath catching in your throat when his annoyance melted, something that appeared mischievous but you could feel had something different.

You were too busy staring at the way his hair flowed down his shoulders to be prepared when he pounced on you, dropping the bottle by your side to wrangle your arms, catching both of your wrists in his hands, and then maneuvering them to hold both with one hand. His right hand held your squirming wrists while his left grabbed the bottle, unscrewing the lid with his teeth.

As you heard him chuckle and watched him dirty the lid with his saliva, you lost track of what you were doing in the first place, stopping your struggle against his right hand as you stared at him, mouth slightly agape.

“Thank fuck!” he breathed, letting go of your wrists, though you didn’t move their position an inch from where he left them above your head. “Now I don’t gotta pin ya down with my legs, gonna need both hands…” he mumbled, half to you and half to himself.

He loomed over you, grabbing your chin with his hand to put your lips on the bottle. Dude waited a few seconds before quickly tilting both the bottle and your head back. When your brain finally registered the horrible taste, and you went to spit it out, he swiftly planted his hand over your mouth and set the bottle down on the nightstand, his other hand feeling over your throat. You looked at him blankly for a few seconds, your eyebrows slanting in confusion.

Dude’s mouth split into a wide grin, and you could see his eyes slightly squint as he looked at you over his sunglasses. “I’m not movin’ ‘till I feel you swal-low it~” he informed, saying the last two words in a sing-song manner. You begrudgingly swallowed the cold medicine, Dude dragging his hands off of you slowly. “See? That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose yet again, sitting up but still not moving his position, towering over you with his knees still planted an inch or two away from either side of your waist.

You finally felt the life come back into your arms again, as you moved them down to rest on your stomach. “Hm, whatever.” You rolled your eyes, looking him up and down until he jumped to get out of your sight, muttering about how he needed to get something done.

You rolled your head over to him, noticing the heavy blush on his face that turned his skin near the color of his hair. You messed your fingers a bit, feeling down your stomach and lightly grazing just above your hipbone, shooting your hand back and sputtering when you felt the searing stab of your wound.

Dude looked over at you with a somewhat worried expression, scratching your hair and moving his hand to rub your jaw, thumb caressing the cheek. His smile faltered, trailing his gaze down your slightly lifted shirt to gaze at the gauze pad and tape that had the faintest bit of red and yellow soaking through.

“I’m uh…” He cleared his throat, letting out a sigh. “I’m sorry, by the way..” he croaked, and you couldn’t handle the way he resembled a dejected kitten. “I’m uh,, really fuckin’ sorry… I just-” he sighed once again, it was clear he wasn’t especially good at having emotional conversations. “I dunno.”

You put your hand over the one of his that still rested on your jaw, moving it off to hold it. You placed both of your hands on your lower abdomen, rubbing the side of his hand with your thumb as you gazed up at him with a weary smile. You didn’t say anything, though you could tell he still gazed away for a few seconds.

He let out one last sigh, the air catching some stray parts of his hair. He leaned in, placing a kiss to your forehead although you both knew something more was mutually desired. “Wanna watch The Maxx? I got the whoooole season on my VCR…” You knew he was just trying to fill empty space, but you still found it endearing. Looking at him with a smirk, you could see he was trying not to smile, as well.

“Well, I guess not one , y’know… It- It takes more time than one can hold, and they caught commercial breaks…” He looked over to you, having not changed your expression. “Gah!” He pulled away from you, heading towards his living room to get the tapes. “Y’ know what I meann!!” he groaned out as he left the room, and you couldn’t help but laugh at him.

The CRT in his bedroom was, for lack of a better word, fucked up. It seemed like he had to mess with it to even get it to turn on, pleading with you to ignore the small magenta line going vertically down the screen. When he got the show running, he walked back to you with his hair standing up, and he apologized for using captions as he smoothed the static out of it.

But you didn’t care. As Dude sat next to you in bed, you didn’t care that the CRT’s screen was messed up, you didn’t care that it was held up by some sort of tacky and cheap metal stand, you didn’t care that the captions obscured part of the show, and you didn’t care that he was clearly an offbeat nerd.

The only thing you cared about was being next to him. When he would point out something in the show or talk about winding narratives and topics that made no sense and seemingly connected in no distinctive way, you would lean closer to him, trying to take in every piece of information he threw at you. You would take a bite of your ricecake and wash it down with cherry Pepsi, but you would try to keep everything he told you.

You would watch the show, get just a little bit closer to him every few minutes, and hope he didn’t notice. You even managed to get your legs in his lap without him noticing, and hell, he didn’t even notice how you wrapped your hands around him and clung to his neck!

A minute passes and his arm moves, rubbing your back and pulling you somehow closer to him. You’re staring up at him, but he doesn’t seem fazed. His eyes are trying to keep on the screen, though you can see them moving ever so slightly, not quite at you but enough to see in his peripherals.

He fully looks at you, show completely lost as he turns his head to face you. His face flushes without a word, and he looks over to mutter some factoid about whatever and whoever. It doesn’t matter to you.

After you don’t respond, not even a nod, he looks back at you.

And neither of you really know what happened, only that time slowed down, maybe stopped completely. Your hands gripped the back of his hair as his own find their home on your waist, trying in vain to pull you to him, like maybe if he moved just right your atoms could pass into eachother.

It lasts forever, but is a nanosecond at the same time. When you both pull back he looks bewildered, concern etched on his face shortly after. But before he can say anything, you dip back in. And your hands resume, your heartbeats both quicken yet join into one, and the world is forgotten,

as yet again,

time slows.

Notes:

you kiss!!! also hello chat, i'm back yet again. 20 days until it's been a year since the last update, I know, I know. I learned that I may not like men as much as I thought? Or maybe I just didn't like him in particular, idk. Idk if I'm lesbian or not, It's like an 85/15 yes vs no. But yeah I broke up with him. I also started at a new school, it's online. My brother/best friend moved to the other side of the country because in my state you are genuinely unable to live on your own, even with over minimum wage and a 40+ hour work week. We've been together for my whole life, he was there for me through horrible shit in childhood and we're closer than basically any other siblings I know, which is why him moving away has been so hard for me. It's been over half a year now, but I still miss him every day, and it's really hard being on my own in the house. It sucks, but we're planning on moving out of the states together if things don't get any better here. "hey postal dude fanfic maker, say something funny!" actually i have something serious on my mind today. it's so weird to see when fanfic writers talk about their personal struggles but like,, yeah, we're people, it makes sense that we deal with labor exploitation and monetary inequality but that doesn't really match into a fic. im trying to get a job currently but they're not fucking hiring, and those who do want 40+ hours and constant availability😭

Oh yeah, also I got diagnosed with ADHD. That probably explains why this took so long. I'm still obsessed with Postal Dude, I just,, didn't know how to go about this chapter lol, its mostly just filler😭 Go easy on me, I haven't done too much writing recently and I'm writing this at 2 am so I'm bound to have sleepiness mistakes. I love you allllll, i truly love all the comments i get hehe