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streamafterlaughter · 3 months ago

Text

Soundtrack to Disaster

Chapter IV: Break Your Pretty Face

masterlist | playlist | pinboard | prev.

song(s) for this chapter: no remorse by metallica, hate you by boston manor, choke by idkhow, let’s talk about your hair by have mercy

chapter tags: swearing, drinking, meanish!eddie, angst | fic tags: Angst, hurt/(eventual) comfort, (eventual) smut, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, Eddie Munson x Fem!OC!Reader, Modern AU | This fic is rated 18+ MDNI

summary: everyone seems to be lobbying against you, in favor of the kid that put your brother in jail.

a/n: inspo returning rapidly, don’t let me burn out now.

taglist @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @kellsck @faggotinie @xplrnowornever @taccobelle @micheledawn1975 @mewchiili @dreamerjj comment/message to be added!

DISCLAIMER: I do not consent to having my work fed to AI engines, or reposted in any way, shape, or form on other websites. Unless otherwise stated, this is the only account that features and contains this work, and any replication was done without my consent. Please let me know if you see my work elsewhere. Reblog to support the author!

—

“Chris.” You give him your best death glare, arms crossed tightly against your chest. “Talk.”

“In my defense,” he stands from his spot on the floor. “I thought he’d told you years ago. I didn’t think to follow up, I thought it was just, y’know, common sense.”

You scoff. “And you think Eddie has that?”

“Y’know what, kid? Yeah, I do. Eddie’s a good fuckin’ dude. Granted, I guess I can see why you wouldn’t think so under these circumstances, but I have to let him explain that to you. I couldn’t begin to understand that choice.”

It’s like he’s speaking in riddles. What could there possibly be to explain? Eddie testified against Chris to save himself. Case closed, he’s a selfish bastard. “You gotta go see him, Bee.”

“Why do I care?”

“Come on, you care a little. You two used to-“

“Shut up.” You grit your teeth. “You haven’t been here. You have no fucking clue what happened to us.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, whatever. You’re dropping me off though, I’m not wasting gas on this bullshit.”

He nods, unhooking his keys from his belt loop. “Well,” he gestures to the door, “After you.”

You get to Eddie’s trailer in what feels like record time, causing you to frantically rehearse what you want to say to him. You have no idea what Chris has said, why he’s so adamant that the two of you speak.

“Call me if you need a ride home, ‘kay?” Chris unlocks the passenger door. “And please, don’t kill him. I know he looks tough, but that kid’s the biggest softy I know.”

You groan, rolling your eyes so hard you’re sure they’ll get stuck. “I can’t guarantee I won’t at least try to kill him.” You mock his tone from earlier. He shoves you playfully, and you swing the car door open.

Eddie’s underneath his van, an old piece of scrap metal on wheels at this point, and you can hear him grunting as you approach him.

“Careful now, don’t want her wound too tight.” You gently kick his foot, and he slides out from under the vehicle.

“Back for revenge?” Eddie slaps his hands together to wipe off the excess grease he’s accumulated, then stands to better greet you. He turns the music on his stereo down, some obnoxious metal song you’re sure he thinks is super artistic. “Look, I know you probably didn’t want me taking care of you, but I wasn’t gonna just leave you there to pass out on the floor.”

“I just want some answers.”

“Yeah, alright.” Eddie wipes the sweat from his forehead. You can’t help but take him in, white t-shirt covered in black soot, coveralls pulled down low on his waist. His hair is tied back, revealing his soft cheeks and metal clad ears. He catches you staring and waves a dirty hand in front of your face. “Hello, earth to Tweety?”

“Stop calling me that.” You huff, fists clenching at your sides. “No one calls me that anymore.”

“That’s why I like it. But fine, what d’you want me to call you?”

You glare at him. You know he’ll come up with a multitude of nicknames that will make your stomach flip with rage if you give him that freedom. “Bee’s fine.”

“Aw, c’mon, everyone else calls you Bee.”

You shrug. “Shoulda thought about that when you betrayed my trust forever.” He’s too invested in your banter, and you catch him off guard.

“Wow, right to it, huh? No ‘How’re you, Eddie,’ no ‘Sorry I puked all over your shoes, Eddie.”

You flush. “I puked on your shoes?”

His facade breaks, and he grins wickedly. “No, you didn’t. But I had ya for a second.”

“Ugh, can you be serious for like, five minutes? Then I’ll leave you alone forever.”

“Forever, huh? Sounds way too good to be true.” You can’t explain why his words sting. You feel them in your throat. Eddie plucks a joint from his ashtray and pats his many pockets. “You gotta light?” He asks, filter between his teeth.

You pluck your bright yellow lighter from your sweatshirt pocket, offering it to him. “Thanks, Bee.” He winks at you, and you fight the urge to start walking home. He puffs on the poorly rolled joint and offers it to you.

“No, thanks. I only smoke with friends.” It’s a low blow, you recognize that, but the frustration in your chest is building to an unbearable level.

Eddie clutches his chest in mock offense. “You wound me.” He pouts, batting his obnoxiously button-like eyes. You have to look away.

“Well, you said you wanted answers. Let’s see what I can provide.” He hops up onto the hood of his car, feet dangling above his license plate. You stay planted in front of him, posture tense as you debate how to approach the topic. “Why doesn’t Chris hate you?”

Your question throws him off. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb, Munson. You testified against him. I’d be counting down the days til I got out so I could get your ass if it were me. How- why are you guys still friends?”

Eddie shakes his head, inhaling yet another hit. “Chris is just not that guy, I guess. Maybe he had time to think in the hole.” His response is completely unconvincing, and you roll your eyes for the millionth time today.

“That’s bullshit.”

“Okay, you know what? He told me to do it. Said it would keep me out.”

A pregnant pause. Then, shrieking, “And you just listened to him?!” Your voice is octaves above natural, growing more piercing by the second. “Friends don’t do that! They don’t betray each other.”

“Look, Bee, I don’t know what you want from me. An apology? Fine, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I listened to Chris and got him locked up, I’m sorry I’ve made you fucking despise me. I was eighteen, barely fuckin’ legal. I had no priors, no guidance. I had no one to ask for some goddamn help— besides Chris— so I trusted him. If I could go back and change it, I would. I’d rather have him hate me one hundred times over if it would mean a good relationship with you.” He stops abruptly, lips pressed together tightly like he hadn’t meant to say that.

“Well, you can’t.” A weak response, mumbled to the floor.

“Yeah, no shit.” Eddie cranks the music back up, slamming the door on your conversation. It’s another loud, angry song. “You can go now.” He turns his back to you, and you can’t even bring yourself to ask for your lighter back.

“I can’t fucking stand him!” You’re pacing Robin’s room back and forth while she watches with wide, deer in headlight eyes. “He has the fucking audacity to tell me my brother asked him to snitch? He really thought I’d believe that?” You turn to Robin, and she gapes at you. “Hello?”

“What? Oh, sorry. I don’t know, Bee! Think about it. Chris took Ed under his wing. They did everything together.”

“Yeah, you think I don’t know that?”

She shrugs. “I’m just saying, it’s a valid reason to hate him. He was treated more like Chris’s blood than you were sometimes. But, I dunno, I don’t think Eddie would lie. Not to you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Robin sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “God, it’s kinda crazy that you can’t see it. The way that kid used to follow you around like a lost puppy, the way he still looks at you now.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You’re in no headspace to consider what she’s saying, not after what you learned today.

“Please, Bee! He had no fucking reason to take care of you. He wanted to.”

You groan, flopping back onto her bed. “I don’t trust him. I can’t.”

“Yeah, it’s him you can’t trust.”

You sit with it, let it eat you alive, but you don’t respond.

Steve arrives at his and Robin’s shared apartment with pizza an hour later, and offers both of you a fancy IPA that’s supposed to “enhance the flavors of the sauce.” You snort at his pretentious delivery, but accept the drink anyway.

“What did I miss?” He flops down on the couch between you and Robin, remote aimed at the television.

“Nothing much, Bee just learned some very earth shattering news.”

“What?” Steve whips his head in your direction, eyes frantic. “What god awful thing did she tell you about me.”

Robin snorts. “Dingus, relax. Not everything is about you!”

You snicker, and pry a piece of pizza from the box, cheese stretching across the table. “But now I wanna know what would make you this nervous if she did tell me!” You fold the pie before cramming a bite into your mouth.

“No, we’re not changing the subject. What happened?”

You glare at Robin for bringing it up. Steve has a tendency to worry when things aren’t all sunshine and rainbows with his friends. He knows you and Eddie aren’t close, but he appreciates your mutual ability to remain civil. “Robin thinks Eddie has a thing for me.”

“Eddie definitely has a thing for you.” Steve says without missing a beat, unfazed by the bomb he’s dropping on your head.

“What?”

“What? Is this not common knowledge? I’ve known for, like, months. I dunno if it’s a crush, per se, but there’s… something. You can’t tell me you had no idea.”

You definitely did not have any idea. “You’re fucking with me. You have to be, that doesn’t make any goddamn sense! He treats me like shit, like I’m the most annoying person on the planet. He never invites me to hang out with you guys, we haven’t hung out alone in, like, six years. You're making shit up.” You cross your arms, waiting for the argument that doesn’t come.

Steve shrugs. “He knows you don’t like him. Or, he thinks you don’t. I know better.” Steve winks at you, and you stick your tongue at him. “He’ll probably never admit it, but if you just pay the smallest bit of attention to the way he acts around you, you’ll get it.” Robin nods in agreement, like she’s known this all along.

“You guys are traitors!” You groan, taking another messy bite of pizza. “Can’t believe my best friends are telling me the most dreadful news possible right now.”

“Oh relax, drama queen. It could be worse, I could tell you all the things he’s told me about you in middle school.”

Your eyes feel like they pop out of your head. “What the fuck did he tell you?!”

Robin giggles. “Don’t worry about it!”

You flip her off, and she throws her head back, cackling.

—

The Hideout is dead. It’s a weeknight, and the only people at the joint are the same five drunks you’ve grown quite fond of over the last few years. There’s Samuel, a construction worker that’s been on the same job for the last two years with almost nothing to show for it; Jack, the executive supervisor of some uppity tech business in Indianapolis that’s yelling on the phone outside most of the time; Suzette, who comes in on Sundays to watch the game, and Mike and Mark, the old gay couple that tip you really well and call you Dolly.

“More Jack, Jack?” Your perky disposition makes the suit smile ever so slightly.

“Make it a double, darlin’.” He jabs the END button on his cell grumpily, and you pour his whiskey neat into a fresh glass.

You’re about to ask him what’s got him upset, he usually isn’t here during this late, when the door swings open with a creak, barely drowned out by the song blaring over the speakers, one you’d chosen to let off some steam that is very quickly finding its way back.

It’s as if the universe is out to get you. Eddie holds the door open for his date, a date that is certainly not Chrissy Cunningham. This girl looks more like Morticia Addams and a tattoo machine had a baby, and you wonder if this was who Robin had been referring to. She’s stunning, covered neck to toe in intricate ink you could play iSpy with. Her hair is long, dark, and silky, swaying down to her butt. Did this woman lose a bet? Why is she here with him?

He catches you staring and has the audacity to wink at you, pulling a chair out for Morticia. You quickly avert your eyes, suddenly fascinated with the stains on the bar. It’s not two minutes later that you feel his presence in front of you.

“Hey, Tw- Bee. Funny seeing you here.”

You don’t respond to his attempt at conversation. “What do you want?” You deadpan, trying to keep your expression blank. Uninterested. Cold.

“I’ll have a beer, Red Stripe if you got it. The lady wants a martini, extra dry.”

“‘Course she does.” You think you say it quiet enough, but the tilt of his head tells you otherwise.

“What’s got your panties in a bunch, Princess?”

“What? Nothing! She just looks like the type, y’know? Fancy.” You cringe. Luckily, Eddie doesn’t seem to notice.

“She’s so cool, right? Name’s Macy. Met her at a gig.”

“Uh huh. Here,” You hand him his drinks. “Would you like to open a tab?”

“Nah, this is only our first stop.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “And, no offense, this isn’t really an ideal date spot.”

His words knock your brain around. “Date, huh?” The words catch in your throat. “I didn’t think Eddie Munson went on dates.”

Eddie falters, but recovers quickly. “I’m full of surprises, Sweets.” He slides the drinks off the bar, slapping a 20 on the table. “Keep the change. See ya ‘round.” He kisses the air in your direction, and your fist clenched tightly around the soda gun. You spray yourself in the face with club soda, and grit your teeth to keep from screaming.

—

Your shift is crawling by, your only company until eleven being the cook and the seven patrons, two of which you’ve been staring daggers at for the last hour. Someone has queued a slew of slow, sad songs and you have a suspicion Suzette is still sulking about the Colts’ loss.

Eddie and Macy are lost in conversation. He’s staring at her with a stupid, lovesick expression you wish you could slap off his face. She seems enamored, sipping her second martini without ever breaking eye contact with him. It drives you up the wall. As if hearing your silent prayers, Eddie pushes from the table, and holds out Macy’s coat for her to slip her slender arms into. He slips his own leather clad arm around her waist and make their way to the door. You’re almost at ease, finally, but he stops abruptly and pivots on his heel, coming right at you.

“Hey,” He calls, leaning over the bar as you whip around, busying yourself organizing the fridge. “Can I ask you something?”

“You just did.” You don’t turn around, stacking used glasses on the dish rack.

“Can I ask the front of you something?” His voice is teasing. You turn back to face him, finding his face far too close to yours. Behind him, Macy’s tapping her foot in annoyance by the door.

“Make it quick, you're keeping her waiting.” You nod in her direction, but he brushes it off.

“You ever… think about what could have happened? Y’know, with us? If things were different, I mean.” You can smell the beer on his breath, he’s so close.

You shrug. “Not really, no.”

His face falls for a fraction of a second before he recovers, stoic.

“Right, yeah. ‘Course not. See ya, Bee.” He waves weakly, then steps forward to hold the door for Macy, disappearing into the Autumn night and leaving your brain feeling like TV static.

—

You get home around 3am, dragging your sore feet over the threshold with a heavy groan. The apartment is quiet, save for the gym of the TV coming from Chris’s makeshift bedroom in the den. He’s out like a light, snoring obnoxiously as reruns of The Simpsons flash multicolored across his face. You tiptoe past him, into your room where you all but collapse on top of your bed, still fully clothed. Eddie’s question plays on repeat in your head, much to your frustration. Why does he even care if you think about him? Why would he ask you that?

You’re pondering whether to tell Steve when your phone starts ringing.

You can’t hide the exhaustion, wishing you could just curl up and pass out. Steve knows you’re awake, knows you just got home. “Hey, Stevie.”

“Hey, Bee. You okay?” Worry laces your friend’s voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He hesitates, you can hear his breath stutter into the receiver. “Well, I got a cryptic text from Eddie. He told me he did something stupid, was wondering if you had a clue what he was talking about?”

You roll onto your back, groaning into the phone. “Is this really that important right now? Eddie’s dramatic, we know this. He didn’t do anything worth panicking over.”

“But he did do something?”

“Ugh, no! He was drunk. Asked me if I ever thought about him, if we could be friends I guess.”

“And what’d you say?”

“I was honest. I said no.”

“Shit, Bee. That’s cold.”

“What, should I have lied? Told him we could’ve been best friends if he hadn’t snitched on my brother?”

There’s a lilt in Steve’s voice. “Is that a lie?”

You bite your lip, thinking. Maybe you and Eddie could’ve been friends, but there’s no use dwelling on it. “No, it’s not. I don’t like to live my life through what ifs.”

“Okay. I get it. I mean, I get what you’re saying. I get his worry too, though.”

You roll your eyes despite his inability to see you. “Okay, Steve. It’s late. I’m gonna go to bed.”

“Yeah, alright. Sweet dreams, Bee.”

“‘Night, Stevie.” You click the END button and place your phone on the nightstand. After a struggle to get up, you quickly change into your pajamas, swearing you’ll shower in the morning, before flopping back into bed.

—

#st #fics #munson #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #fem!reader #mean!eddie munson #angst #slow burn #enemies to lovers #hurt/comfort #sdf #modern au #strangerthingscentral

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monayen · 3 months ago

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I love your stories! Perfect for feeding my bedtime delusions ♥️

Can I request something for ratman 3? Him & reader waiting out a threat in a too small hiding spot so they’re pressed against each other. The danger and close proximity make 3 noticeably excited…

Cramped | Ratman 3

➷ Paring - Ratman 3 x GN!Reader [Randal's Friends / Ranfren]

➷ CWs - dry humping, biting, very light description of violence, WHIMPERING

a/n - first ratman with a fic, isn't he special :-] ? sad state of affairs as i recently broke my phone (which i always write on) so i am now confined to my laptop. ignore any mistakes or formatting issues, i kept getting distracted trying to make a ranfren twitter. (i needed a phone number to do it D-:)

“Quiet, okay?” you whisper to the trembling ratman beside you, his forehead damp with fear as you guide him through narrow passageways.

Cramped spaces were second nature to you. Crawling between walls, squeezing through vents—it was how you’d survived since your formation. Open spaces were death traps, especially for vermin trying to get by in the confusing Ivory house.

Ratman 3 nods, his beady eyes darting nervously behind his round glasses as you move together, your bodies pushing through the tight crawl space.

“We need to bring something back this time,” you whisper, voice low and urgent. “I’m so sick of eating drywall.”

Behind you, his shaky voice follows. “I-I think it’s… fine, actually.” He mumbles, barely convincing even himself. You both know the truth. The shared bags of chips, warm beer, and crumbs of crackers disappear far too quickly in the nest. Rationing isn’t exactly an option for a group who can’t count.

Disputes over who should venture out into the Ivory’s pantry have become routine—bickering and rounds of makeshift card games determining the unlucky rat. This time, you and 3 drew the short straws. Though, you’re pretty sure Michael Jr. cheated.

The path weaves through chewn holes in the drywall and vents and pipes you two squeeze through. It'd be borderline claustrophobic for any other person, and it's even worse with how the blonde ratman clings behind you like a meat shield.

You glance back at your companion, his eyes wide and darting, every sound seeming to send a shiver through his scrawny frame. He's following behind, almost pushing against you in the narrow space.

“Keep it together,” you mutter, more to yourself than him. Ratman 3 gulps and shakes his head, “Let's just go back. I think I have a granola bar stashed away somewhere–”

You’re about to reply when heavy footsteps echo from the other side of the wall, cutting off whatever quip was on your tongue.

Ratman 3 freezes, chest heaving, his body trembling as he grabs your arm. You shoot him a warning look, silently pleading for silence. The footsteps are joined by multiple voices.

It’s the brothers that live here. The older one seems to be scolding the younger one, though you can't seem to piece together the context behind his words. You listen carefully as a deeper, gruffer voice says something short. Though it's enough that you both instantly recognize easily who it is, making your blood run cold.

3 immediately panics, his flight instincts kicking in as he silently urges you two to leave. Your heart beats in your ears, but still you motion for him to stay put.

The walls feel like they’re closing in, the tight space you're accustomed to suddenly pressing down with suffocating intensity. Claustrophobia creeps in, tightening your chest as the weight of the situation sinks deeper—you’re trapped. Any noise, any creaking movement, and you're sure they’ll hear.

Ratman 3 shifts nervously, pressing his body tightly against your figure as he tries to make himself as small as possible in the cramped space.

“The catman will leave soon,” you whisper as softly as possible in an attempt to soothe him. But even in the dark between the walls, you can see the sweat beading on his forehead, his chest rising and falling in rapid, panicked breaths.

You feel him shift again behind you, and you almost turn back to whisper for him to quit moving before you two get killed. That's when you notice a poking on your behind, and how shaky 3’s breathing really is against your neck.

“Are you fucking hard right now?” You say too softly, still concerned about being caught to let your baffled thoughts run out your mouth.

Your words hang in the air as Ratman 3 freezes behind you, his body trembling even more than before.

"I-I'm sorry!" he whispers, his voice cracking with panic. "I can't help it! It's just... being this close to you, in this tight space... It's..." He trails off, and you can almost sense the mix of embarrassment and excitement radiating off him.

Ratman 3's body tenses as he tries to suppress his arousal, but it's becoming more and more difficult for him to stay still. The confined space, the adrenaline rush from the potential danger, and the proximity all makes your heart beat faster and his dick harder. Both of you need to urgently relax, or you’ll be torn out the walls and have your guts spilled all over the floor.

Ratman 3's breath hitches as he grips your hips, his panting becoming more frantic. You can feel the contagious feverish sensation of his arousal pressing onto you, the friction of his pants rubbing against your own sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

"Ah," he gasps, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can't... I need..." His words trail off into a low moan as he holds up, the tight space tenfolding every sensation.

Pure heat radiates from his body, his breathing growing even more labored as he struggles to maintain any sort of composure. The poking sensation touching your ass is becoming more and more insistent, and you can sense the desperation for any type of relief on his flushed face.

Your own desire is growing, your body responding to the closeness and the danger of the situation. You lean forward, bracing yourself against the wall as you feel Ratman 3's hands sliding under your shirt, his fingers resting the curve of your waist and hips.

"We can't," you breathe, "They'll hear us."

But Ratman 3 seems beyond reason, his body mindlessly continuing to shift. He leans closer, his breath hot on your ear as he whispers, “Please,” his voice a desperate plea. “I’ll be good.”

His small movements grow more frantic, his pelvis grinding slightly for any sense of relief. The tight space amplifies every sensation, his arousal pressing insistently against you. His breath comes in ragged gasps, and you can hear the neediness in his voice as he whispers, "I can't stop, please don't stop me."

“Shh,” you whisper, your voice trembling with tension. You're acutely aware of the muffled sounds from beyond the drywall, and how even the slightest noise could expose you both. Despite the risk, you brace the wall, offering him more leverage, your heart racing as excitement pools in your empty stomach.

He takes up the welcoming position immediately, biting back a groan as his hips begin to roll off of yours. The rub of fabric makes 3 shudder, his head tipping back and almost hitting the wall behind him. His hand slides down to cup your ass, squeezing roughly as he pulls your hips against him. The pressure of his erection is too much to ignore, and you can feel your own arousal dampening between your legs.

You gasp softly as Ratman 3 speeds up against you, the friction getting rougher and rougher as pleasure waves through your body. He moves excitedly, taking in the softness of you cramped in front of him. He bucks his hips shamelessly, desperate and unrhythmic.

“Fuck," you exhale, your voice trembling slightly. You glance back just enough to catch the fog on his glasses, his beady eyes pinched as he nibbles on his lip to bite back too loud of moans. The smallest of whimpers still escape his mouth, his body tensing over and over again as he holds onto you. You press your cheek against the cool wall, trying to muffle the sounds of your own excitement as Ratman 3 continues to rut against you.

Ratman 3's breathing grows heavier, his movements becoming impossibly more erratic as he quickly chases his orgasm. You can feel the warmth of his body pressing against your back, his chest heaving with each ragged breath.

"I'm gonna... I'm gonna come," he whimpers, his hips thrusting urgently against yours. You're about to shush him, but a touch on your chest surprises you. His clammy hand moves from your hip to under your shirt, groping and squeezing frantically. He leans forward, giving a final rut of his hips against your ass before his teeth sink into your shoulder to suppress any loud moan that was going to spill out of him.

You almost gasp too loudly, but you catch yourself and clench your jaw to choke back the sound. Ratman 3 lets out a strangled whimper against your shoulder, his body tensing as he buries his face into your skin. He quickly comes into his pants, fully pressed onto your ass as his cock twitches and pulses, riding out his orgasm. You purse slightly, feeling the warmth of his release soaking through and staining your clothes.

Ratman 3 slumps against you, his body shaking with the aftershocks of his climax. You can feel his heart racing, matching the pounding of your own as you both struggle to catch your breath.

The silence that follows is deafening, broken only by the sound of your ragged breathing and the smallest creak of the walls around you. You hold your breath, coming back to the reality of how dangerous of a spot you are right now.

You listen for any sign of the family, anxiety tugging at your gut as you wait for any sign that both your presences have been discovered. But the voices have moved on, their footsteps fading into the distance as they go down the hall.

You let out a shaky sigh of relief, turning around to face Ratman 3 with the little space you have. Ratman 3 lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours in the darkness. There's a mix of embarrassment and satisfaction in his gaze, and you can't help but smirk at the sight.

He shifts slightly, wincing at the sticky mess in his pants. His eyes dart down to the stain on the fabric, and his face flushes an even deeper shade of crimson.

“I, um... I guess I made a bit of a mess,” he mumbles, avoiding your gaze in embarrassment. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your clothes.”

You shrug, trying to downplay the rush of adrenaline in your chest. “Don’t worry; at least we weren’t caught.”

Ratman 3 nods, quickly wiping his brow and smoothing down his rumpled shirt. He takes a deep breath, as if steeling himself, then stammers, “S-So… you wanna… uh, share that granola bar?”

#ratman 3 #ranfren #randals friends #x reader #ratman 3 x reader #cw. dry humping #ranfren smut #ranfren x reader

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talkfastwalkfaster · 1 year ago

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Serenity ~ Ben Kenobi x Reader

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ

A/N: this is set about 5 years after rots. reader is about 27 & obi-wan is 43. i was going to make a valentine anakin fic but that plan moved so enjoy my other love, hermit obi-wan. this is my first time writing smut so it might not be the best. also, if you have any feedback, it's welcomed & appreciated :)♡ WC: 3,041 Warnings: MDNI, smut, some angst

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ

Tatooine was known for its extremely warm temperatures, but today was worse than ever. Ben was drenched in sweat the entire day, making him wish they could afford a cooling system to install within their home.

He noticed you never seemed to sweat as extensively as he did. He assumed it was because you were a native of the planet.

“(y/n), are you certain that our animals will survive this weather?" Ben called out from the entrance of your home. His thoughts were consumed by his trusted stead, Eopie may have been able to sustain this weather in previous times, but that didn't ease his worries.

Ben headed into your house and over to the kitchen where you had been for the past few minutes.

He rested his hand on your lower back and peered over your shoulder to watch you chop up some vegetables for dinner. If he was honest, he was a little envious that this heat was seemingly not affecting you as it was him.

Your mouth formed into a small smile as you continued cutting vegetables, “I’m certain, Ben, they’ve survived hotter weather than this before. They’ll be fine.”

He exhaled, his shoulders deflating as he continued to gaze at you. He knew his worries were futile, yet his concerns wouldn’t falter. “I know, I know. I just can’t help but worry for them.”

This was his life now, he had accepted becoming a farmer ages ago, but there was still a lot more that he would have to come to terms with; he was still haunted by memories of the war, watching Anakin fall to the dark side, watching Qui-Gon die, watching Satine die, watching his beloved Commander and battalion turn against him in the blink of an eye…

He rubbed the back of his neck, attempting to shake the weight that always seemed to be weighing him down. “I suppose it’s just the heat getting on my nerves. It feels as though the heat of a hundred suns is shining down. I don’t know how you’re acting all nonchalant, I feel like I might as well be burning and yet you’ve barely broken a sweat.”

You glanced over your shoulder to look at him, “Well I have lived here all my life, I’m used to the heat.” The truth was that the heat always did manage to bother you a little, but you had grown up in the scalding temperatures, you were, unfortunately, accustomed to them. It made no sense for you to complain about it.

“I don’t know how you do it if it’s not the heat that’s unbearable, it’s the awful sandstorms that are always passing through here,” Ben complained. Despite having lived on Tatooine for a while now, it seemed as though no matter what he did, he could never get used to the heat. His mind digressed toward Anakin and his hatred toward this planet, and he finally seemed to understand his point of view. But Ben quickly pushed that thought away as his heart ached each time his mind brought up his former student.

He was brought out of his trance by the sound of your voice. “You’ll get used to them. Sure, they might not be ideal but Tatooine isn’t as bad as it could be. I mean the war never came here and the Empire has little interest in this planet. The weather may not be perfect and there are always things that could be improved here, but i can’t think of living anywhere else,” You mused. You knew that Ben got stuck in his head easily and you’ve known him long enough to see the signs of it.

His brow always started to furrow and he stroked his beard, seemingly without even realizing it. You’ve figured out that the best way to bring him back to the present was to talk about where you are. Even though you’re not necessarily fond of praising Tatooine, he needs it, and that’s all that matters to you.

“I wish I had as much patience as you do, my dear,” he sighed, taking in another deep breath.

It all seemed so normal, this was a conversation that any couple could have. To any outsiders, you two would be seen as a regular husband and wife, like any other married couple in the galaxy. Ben was slowly starting to feel content with his life here, he could almost forget everything that happened five years prior. He could almost pretend that he did not come to Tatooine because of his failure, that he didn’t have to go into hiding, and that his life didn’t completely spiral because of one order.

Your face softened, knowing how difficult it’s been for Ben. It always seemed as though he was unable to completely move forward, despite his best attempts, because of whatever happened in his past. “Well, you've only been here what, 5 years? You have to give yourself time to adjust, sweetheart."

A faint smile stretched across his lips when you called him ‘sweetheart’. It was the most endearing pet name you had ever given him and he felt a warmness throughout his chest whenever you used it. It made him feel normal, he didn’t have to worry about his former life as Jedi Master and General Obi-Wan Kenobi anymore, he could just be Ben, your husband.

He chuckled softly, watching as you began to cook the vegetables before wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. “I know, darling, I know…” he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck and sighed, breathing in the scent of you, something that always relaxed him.

As you cooked, your mind briefly wandered to Coruscant, Ben had once mentioned that he was born and lived most of his life there. You wondered if the planet was anything similar to Tatooine or if it was the complete opposite. You had always wanted to ask him more about his past, what he was like before you met him 3 years ago, and yet, for some reason, you could never bring yourself to give in to those desires.

However, as the two of you stood in the kitchen, you believed that now would be a better time than any to ask him, seeing as this was the first time in a while that he was truly beginning to relax. You hummed softly, attempting to keep the peaceful environment that had been created, “You said you were from Coruscant right? Is it very different from here?”

Ben stiffened slightly from his position behind you before forcing himself to relax, he knew you had no ill intent with your question. If this was any other time, he would have avoided your prodding, but for once, he decided to indulge you, even if only slightly. “It’s very different from here, my dear.” he held you tighter and kept his head resting in the crook of your neck, your familiar scent had always given him a sense of peace and calmness, something which he craved, wishing he could forever be engulfed in it.

“Coruscant makes Tatooine look like a ghost town. It’s full of large buildings and many different levels. You could always hear the buzzing of speeders and people clamoring to numerous places,” Ben paused for a second, wondering how much more he should tell you, before ultimately deciding it’s best to keep it brief, “Let’s just say there was never a dull moment there, my love.”

You decided to push your luck, desperately wanting to know more about your husband. You murmured, as if trying not to startle Ben with your next question, “Do you ever miss it?”

His heart immediately constricted at the thought, though he quickly dismissed it. There was no reason for him to start dwelling on what-ifs, this was his life now, and there was no changing the past. “My life there? No, not at all,” he replied quickly, the lie coming out easy.

This has become a type of dance for him, every once in a while you would try to inquire about his past and he would always find ways to avoid giving too much detail. He would only ever respond vaguely enough to not make you suspicious while also satisfying your curiosity. He couldn’t bring himself to tell you what his past life actually entailed, it was still too raw, too painful. He didn’t want you to worry either. He knew that he couldn’t hide who he once was from you forever, but he couldn’t tell you today, not now.

Ben rested his chin on your shoulder and muttered “I wouldn’t want to go back.” A half-truth, he’s not as fond of the planet as he used to be, but it still holds some sentimental value to him. It’s not that he would never want to go back to Coruscant, it’s that he can’t. If he ever tried he knew the Empire would be on him as soon as he was even remotely close to the planet’s atmosphere.

You finished cooking the vegetables and raised your eyebrows slightly surprised, not expecting that answer from him. “Never?” you inquired, feeling slightly bewildered. “You’d really never want to go back? Was it that bad?”

Ben held you tighter and exhaled, that part of him died years ago. To him, Obi-Wan died the moment he left Anakin to die on Mustafar — he had been, in a way, reborn as Ben. He was just Ben Kenobi, a simple farmer, and your husband. Nothing more, nothing less. “It was fine, nothing particularly interesting happened to me when I lived there,” he lied again, giving you a soft kiss on the side of your neck hoping that this topic of discussion would die out soon.

You sighed at his words and murmured, “Dinner’s ready.” You decided to let the topic drop, knowing that he wasn’t exactly telling you the truth, but you hoped that one day he would trust you enough to let you completely in.

The two of you ate dinner in silence, both of you seemingly lost in your thoughts. Ben had intrigued you from the start. You had met him at a market in Mos Espa, and he immediately stood out to you. From the way that he held himself to the way he talked. He looked like someone who had seen the galaxy, who had actually experienced life, something you had always wished to do but never had the luxury. His eyes — his beautiful, entrancing sapphire grey eyes that were like pools of sorrow. They showed a variety of complex emotions, something that made you want nothing more than to break down his highly built-walls and see who he truly was.

Ben was never one to speak much while eating, he felt there was no need to fill the silence with meaningless chatter — he wanted to just enjoy being with you, you were everything to him.

He had never thought that he would be able to have this, that he’d be able to feel happy again. For the first two years that he had lived on Tatooine, he had expected that he would be alone forever, that he had deserved to live a life of isolation. But then you came along and completely wrecked all those painful thoughts.

Ben hadn’t realized that he was being completely quiet, he was still processing that he was married and a farmer — he never thought this was how his life would turn out. “Thank you for the dinner dear,” he remarked appreciatively.

The corners of your mouth turned upward and your eyes brightened ever so slightly at his gratitude, “You’re welcome. I’m sorry though, I know it’s not much-”

He interrupted, “Don’t worry yourself, it’s perfect… You’re the best, you know that?”

You held back a smile, unable to resist teasing him a little. “Am I now?”

Ben brought your hand up to his lips and kissed the palm gently, “You certainly are, my dear. You are the best thing to happen to me in years and I wouldn’t have it any other way."

You leaned forward and kissed him, deciding that no words would be able to encapsulate how you felt towards him.

His heart fluttered as you kissed him, it was so tender and he was more than willing to return it. Your lips were soft and inviting, and he couldn’t resist pulling you into his lap, his hands gently caressing your face. In response, you wrapped your arms around his neck, desperately wanting to be closer to him.

You couldn’t help but moan softly into the kiss, your body was reacting to his and you were so comfortable being in his arms. He was all you needed in life, there wasn’t anything else that mattered. His hands slowly drifted down and began rubbing small circles on the small of your back.

Your heartbeat quickened as the two of you pulled apart, the feeling of kissing him was intoxicating. You started to subtly grind your hips down, desperate for any type of friction.

Ben gasped softly at your ministrations and quickly connected your lips again. The kiss between the two of you was full of love and passion. Your hands were everywhere, one wrapped behind his neck and your other around his shoulder, as if you were trying to entangle yourself with him.

Ben deepened the kiss, his tongue darting out and exploring your mouth. He couldn’t take it anymore and picked you up, heading straight for your shared bedroom. Your arms were tightly wrapped around his neck and you kissed all over his face and neck as he took you to the room.

Once you reached the bedroom he gently laid you down on the bed and slowly made his way on top of you, wanting to savor each moment. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked at you with an expression that could only be described as pure, devoted love before lowering himself and kissing you again, this time slower and more intimate than he had previously.

Without breaking the kiss, he started to tenderly remove your tunic from your body, revealing your naked top to his gaze. The rest of your clothes were quickly removed and thrown off the bed as Ben began to kiss you everywhere — your neck, your shoulders, your chest, anywhere he could get his lips on. His hands slowly made their way down your chest, squeezing and massaging your breasts before finally heading towards your neglected pussy. You were completely entranced by his touch, his hands were sending shivers throughout your entire body, making you tremble with anticipation.

You whimpered in pleasure as his hands moved downward and he inserted one finger into your dripping folds while lightly rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb. You hastily tugged on his own tunic, stripping him until both of you were naked on the bed. You grasped his shoulders and spread your legs open wider, inviting him to come closer. Ben slotted himself in between your thighs and hovered on top of you, his arms caging you in.

Ben shifted slightly, slipping one hand in between your bodies to grasp his cock. He dragged the tip of it through your folds a couple of times before finally sinking into you. You moaned as he pressed himself closer to you, wrapping your legs around his waist as you adjusted to the size of his cock.

You gripped his shoulders tighter, nails digging into his skin as you begged, “Ben, please, move.”

He slowly began to rock his hips, not wanting to rush this moment. The love between the two of you was palpable, your bodies fit together perfectly as if you were made for each other. He moved his head to your neck, pressing soft kisses into the crook of it. He knew right then that everything he went through was worth it if this was his fate. All of his struggles and hardships faded away as if all that mattered was you and him.

Your moans grew louder as he gradually picked up his pace, the wet squelching sounds of your skin meeting filled the room. Your nails raked down his back, pleasure completely filling your senses, the only thought on your mind was Ben.

As your lips met again, the kiss was tender yet rough, a juxtaposition that seemed to also perfectly describe your husband. You could feel your orgasm looming, squeezing his cock and pulling him deeper into you. He moaned into the kiss, his hips stuttered, spilling inside of you, coating your insides with his cum. His orgasm triggered your own, whining loudly as you spasmed around him, your whole body trembling as you rode out your high.

The two of you laid there for a while, basking in each other’s presence before he slowly pulled out of you, the mixture of your cum slowly running down your pussy and thighs.

You leaned up and gently kissed the side of his mouth, “I love you, Ben.”

A soft smile grew on his lips, his heart was overflowing with his love for you. He had never felt like this with anyone but you — you were his person and he was yours, you were perfectly suited. He had no doubt in his mind that you were his soulmate, and he’d thank the Maker that the Force led him to you. “I love you too, my dear.”

You looked up at him lovingly, knowing that this was where you were meant to be, everything seemed right, everything made sense, when you were with him and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You knew in the back of your mind that you still had ways to go with Ben, but in this moment, none of that mattered, you’d have him in any way you could.

He exhaled and pressed his forehead against your shoulder — leaning against you in this way felt very nice. His body, mind, and soul felt rejuvenated just by being in your presence.

The two of you shifted so that you were laying your head on his chest and your legs were intertwined. Slowly you and Ben drifted asleep, your bodies, minds, and souls forever entwined.

#nat's tales #obi-wan kenobi #obi wan #ben kenobi #ben kenobi x reader #⋆obi-wan⋆#obi wan x reader #ben kenobi x you #obi wan kenobi x you #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan smut #obi wan kenobi smut #ben kenobi smut

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peachglazewrites · 5 days ago

Text

𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚘𝚏 𝚞𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛 ⸙ 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚎𝚗

𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: abby anderson x f!reader 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: drinking, tense conversations, angst 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜: angst, fluff, alice makes an appearance :))) 𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘: no use of y/n or any reader descriptions 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 11,071k

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: The one where you wake up next to Abby, and you go on a trip.

: ̗̀➛ masterpost

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ save/read the fic on ao3 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝙸: X

“Fuck--!”

A thump.

Your heart lurches as you shoot up, hand flinching at your side while you blink your eyes open, still crusted from sleep. They flick across the room, falling on every possibly entry and exit, just as you were trained to. There’s nothing there, though. No sign of danger, no intruder. No Scars.

No sign of Abby either, you realise, the side of the bed next to you empty. The blankets are gone too, leaving your bare legs exposed to the cold.

“Ow… shit.”

A hand comes up from the floor and into view, gripping the side of the mattress. Abby pulls herself up to sit, blankets sliding off and pooling at her waist as she rubs at the back of her head, hissing when she touches a tender spot.

“Abby? Are you okay?” You ask, sleepy confusion lacing your voice. You lean over to reach out a helping hand. “What’re you doing on the floor?”

“Sorry,” she apologises, face warming. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

She grabs your offered hand, warm palm encompassing your own as you pull, helping her off the cold floor. The rest of the blanket slips and falls around her feet, leaving her in just the sweats she tugged on last night after getting cleaned up, too tired and sensitive to pull on a shirt.

Abby presses a kiss to the back of your hand before letting it go.

“I’m late,” she grunts, already making her way over to the chest of drawers. “I’m meant to meet my unit in ten minutes to go over the new patrol routes, but I forgot to set an alarm.”

You look over at the time, twenty past nine. Thank God it’s still early-- you don’t have work until twelve.

You hum, looking back at Abby, watching the way the muscles of her torso move as she pulls a shirt over her head, fabric slowly covering her breasts that are still slightly pink. You say a solemn goodbye to the bite mark on the fat of her chest, the small indents from your nails on her lower abdomen. “Wonder why.”

You know why. You can feel why. The only reason you can’t feel it more is because Abby made sure to get you both cleaned up and taken care of, using the bathroom and heating up a pouch full of barley and dried herbs (that smelled amazing) to put on your leg when she bundled you up for sleep.

She rolls her eyes at you, biting back a smile as she changes out of her pants, pulling on a random pair of cargos before coming to sit on the bed, socks and boots in hand.

You sit up more, scooching over to where she’s perched so you can wrap your arms around her middle, giving her room to move and get her boots on as you bury your face into her back. You’re not topless like she was, though the shirt you stole from her doesn’t do a lot to hide the fact that it’s the only thing you’re wearing.

“I’m sure they can survive without you for a couple of minutes,” you say, pressing a kiss to her back.

“It’s not them being on their own that I’m worried about,” she chuckles, leaning forward to tie her laces. “I’m never late.”

“Ah.” Realisation. “This is basically your walk of shame, then,” you laugh, snuggling in more. You feel the vibrations through her skin as she laughs along with you, though a touch more embarrassed.

“Pretty much.” She tilts to the side to do the other boot. “I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“You’ll be fine,” you murmur, leaning up to kiss the back of her neck. “They’ll find something else to laugh about before you know it. It’ll be Manny who won’t leave you alone about it.”

She sighs, sitting up and leaning back into your embrace. “I know.”

You sit there, peppering kissing along her neck and shoulders as she melts into you, head resting against your shoulder. Abby hums, a content noise at the attention, snaking an arm up to press gently against the back of your head. She tilts her head to the side, pulling you in for a kiss.

“You’re gonna make me late.” she murmurs, kissing you again.

“Then go,” you whisper back, words muffled against her lips as she drags you in for another kiss.

It takes some convincing—though neither of you were trying very hard-- but she eventually pulls away, pressing a kiss to your forehead as she pulls the blankets up from the floor, tucking them around you. “Stay for a bit, get some more rest before your shift. Lock up behind you.”

“Okay, I will.” You smile, already burying under the warm covers. She huffs a laugh, indulging herself in one last brush of her lips against your cheek before grabbing her pack.

“I’ll see you soon.”

The stomp of her boots retreats to the other side of the room, pausing as she opens the door. You poke your head out from the covers.

“I—Have a good day, Abs.”

Her braid swings as she turns to look at you over her shoulder, warm smile splitting her lips.

“You too, honey.”

⸙

Those extra couple of hours dozing in Abby’s bed really saved you, work not being nearly as exhausting as it could have been. The only real issue you’re having is the ache in your leg, that tightness in your calf muscle that just won’t go away, but even that is entirely manageable.

You’ll have to thank Abby properly when you see her next.

Hopefully, that’s sooner rather than later. It’s a bit pathetic, but that ache you feel worming into your heart when she’s away for days at a time has already begun to make itself known.

You shake your head, telling yourself to snap out of it. No yearning at work.

Mel’s got you doing mostly solo work again today. You don’t mind it really, knowing that if you have any questions or concerns that you can still go to her or even Nora for help. It’ll be much the same when you “graduate”, but it’s less embarrassing asking for help while you’re still considered a trainee.

You’re on your way back from the side room, pulling a patient’s file from the cabinet to set up their chart, when someone catches your elbow.

“You know,” Nora says, eyes roaming from your face to your neck as she speaks. “I heard scarves are really in this season.”

You slap a hand to your neck, covering it as much as you can, looking at her with wide eyes. She says nothing, just points to her own jaw, under her right ear where the bone meets her neck. You groan.

“How obvious is it?”

Nora shrugs. “It’ll fade. And I wouldn’t worry about it, everyone’s already seen it.” She laughs as you stutter, colour coming to your cheeks. “I think Mel’s the only one who hasn’t noticed, but that’s because she’s avoiding the hell out of you.”

You frown, embarrassed, rubbing the tender spot and glaring at the ground.

“You should tell Abby to watch that mouth of hers.”

Your head snaps up, hushing her as you look around the hall to see who’s close by, who’s listening. Thankfully, it’s just the two of you. “How did you…?”

Nora just looks at you, crossing her arms over her chest, eyebrows high on her forehead. You sigh, looking away again. If anyone were going to know, of course it’d be her.

She steps closer, grabbing the side of your arms to shake you a little. “Hey, congrats.” She grins, eyes flashing with a teasing glint. "How’s it feel to be Mrs Anderson?”

Scoffing, you push her off, feeling the heat radiating from your face. “We’re not—it’s…” you trail off, chewing on your cheek.

Nora looks at you, expression smoothing out. “What?”

“We’re just… We haven’t put a label on it. We’ve just been, y’know. Kissing. Sleeping over. That kind of thing.”

Nora’s face doesn’t change. “I literally saw her twirling you around in the gym like a fucking princess. That’s not just kissing and having sex.”

“That was you?”

“And Mel—”

You cut her off with a groan, pitching forward and bumping your forehead against her chest. Her shoulder shakes under you as she laughs.

“That’s exactly what I needed right now. More reasons for her to not like me.”

“You’re fine.” Her arms come around you, patting you on the back. “I stand by what I said the first time. I think the two of you just need to talk, hear where the other person is coming from. You might still not agree afterwards, but it’ll be better than whatever you have going on now.”

You stay silent, wallowing in your emotions.

“If it helps at all, she didn’t really have anything to say about the gym.”

“That could mean the absolute worse, Nora.”

“Or that means she doesn’t care.” Her hands pause. “Well, she does. But it could be progress? I wouldn’t worry about it. She already knew you liked Abby, so it’s not that much of a stretch to see the two of you hanging out. Even if you are being disgustingly cute and obvious in the gym.”

You fix her with a glare as you pull away. “We were not.”

“She had you off the floor. Spinning. Face in your—”

“Okay, okay, shut up,” you grumble, punching her in the arm.

“Hey, I’m just telling it how I see it.” She holds her palms up, laughing as you go to wack her with the clipboard.

Mel enters the hallway ahead of you, spotting her walking in your direction over Nora’s shoulder. You stiffen as she gets closer, taking a step back from Nora and pulling the clipboard back to your chest, laughter dying in your throat. Mel slows to a stop, looking up from her own clipboard and hesitating when she sees you. Your eyes linger on one another, neither one willing to look away first.

She calls your name; your heart starts pounding in your chest.

“Yeah?”

“You—” she pauses, swallowing. “Have you checked on Dylan, yet?”

You shake your head. “Not yet.” You hold up the clipboard. “Was on my way to him.”

Nodding, she breaks the eye contact, fiddling with her paperwork. “Good. Thanks.”

She turns on her heel and leaves after that, not another glance or word.

Nora’s hand on your shoulder brings your attention back to her, away from the empty spot where Mel was standing.

“She’ll come around. Give her time.”

It’s like that for the next two days; going to work, having one or two awkward interactions with Mel, coming home, maybe seeing Abby in passing if you’re lucky. You’re both too busy to be able to meet up, so you take what you can.

You’ve resorted to lingering touches in hallways, eyes refusing to leave the others until you’re out of sight. It’s horribly obvious—okay, so maybe Nora was right-- and you’re acting like teenagers in their first relationship, but its hard not to see each other and not be immediately reminded of the last night you spent together. Skin sliding across skin, her swollen lips caressing every inch of your body, the way she fell apart on your fingers…

Abby pulls you into a stairwell at some point, pressing you against the cool wall as you share a couple of stolen minutes in private, kissing and laughing and murmuring tooth-rotting ‘I miss you’s to one another.

The night before your day off you once again come home to an empty room. You’ve hardly seen Mel outside of work since you spent that first night at Abby’s.

There’s a stab of guilt at the relief you feel knowing she’s not home, that you won’t have to navigate another awkward, sleepless night. That you can just crash, go to bed hoping that tomorrow will be kinder, and you could maybe see Abby for more than a handful of seconds.

That feeling doesn’t last long, the sharp, almost electric zap of fear squashing it.

On the dining table, planted right in the middle, is your duffel bag from under your bed, packed to the brim. A scrap piece of paper is folded neatly on top, the blue ink from the pen ghosting through to the other side.

You freeze, dread making your gut flip and head dizzy. You look to your side of the room, and while it’s mostly the same, things have definitely been moved or are missing. Your wardrobe is the most obvious tip off, doors ajar and noticeably emptier than when you left it this morning.

Fuck.

You take a shuddering breath, trying so desperately not to panic. If this is what you think it is, you won’t give her the satisfaction of crying over it. You’ll just do that later. Somewhere else.

You walk over to the table, reaching out for the note, hands shaking as you unfold it.

Your name is written in neat script at the top, and reading it makes your heart lurch.

I’ve been doing some thinking, and I’d appreciate it if we could talk.

If you’re interested, please bring your bag with you to West Gate 4 tomorrow morning- before sunrise.

Alice will be there too.

- Mel

You stare at her name, noticeably bare of x’s and o’s like what you’re used to.

West Gate 4? Why does she want to meet you all the way out there? She doesn’t talk to you for days, and now she’s leaving you cryptic notes asking you to meet her in the dark?

Chewing on your lip you fold the note back up, placing it on the table. You pull the duffel bag closer to you, unzipping it to peek inside. A few changed of clothes, your spare boots, a raincoat.

What the hell?

Leaving the bag on the table, you retreat to your bed, kicking off your boots and shucking off your top along the way.

Will you go? You can’t lie and say that you’re not curious. Mel is usually pretty straightforward, not a fan of bullshitting about, so her not explaining what exactly she has planned is… strange. But as weird as it feels to you, you also really want to see what happens.

Plus, it’s Mel. You miss her so fucking much it’s crazy.

Sighing, you finish getting changed for the night, trudging through the rest of your nightly routine while turning the possibilities around in your mind. Before you climb into bed, main light off and curtains pulled open to pool that comfortable blue light across the room, you fiddle with your alarm clock, setting it for five in the morning.

Guess you’ll see.

⸙

“Alice!”

The Shepard-mix’s tail thumps against the ground, the only give away that she’s heard you. She sticks dutifully by Mel’s side, waiting for her soft command of ‘break’ before she runs forward, meeting you where you’re crouched, arms open.

You wrap your arms around her, burying your hands into her soft brown fur.

“Oh I’ve missed you! You’re such a good girl,” you coo, ruffling between her ears and across her back. Her tail thumps faster, eyes closed in bliss as she gets loves on.

You sneak a hand into your pocket and slip her a piece of jerky as you pat over her muzzle, Alice slobbering over your palm as she takes it and licks the remnants.

“I saw that,” Mell calls out from where she’s standing by the gate, duffel slung over her shoulder.

Clearing your throat you stand up, wiping your wet hand on the leg of your pants.

“Hey, Mel.”

“Hey.”

You two just sort of look at each other, stewing in the awkward silence that somehow grows impossibly loud between your ears. Alice happily pants and snuffles at your coat pocket, none the wiser.

“You came.” Mel says.

You nod, looking away, resting a hand on the top of Alice’s head, lightly pushing her away from your coat.

“I uh... I wasn’t sure if I was going to? But I was curious where this was going to lead.” You gesture around you, to the still dark sky, the large gate in front of you.

Mel clicks her fingers pointing to her boots. “Alice, come.”

Alice perks up, trotting over back to Mel, taking her place at Mel’s side. “Sorry it’s so early. Owen and I don’t usually leave when it’s light out.”

You tilt your head, slightly confused, but then it clicks-- the bags, Alice, leaving so early.

“We’re going to the aquarium?”

It’s Mel’s turn to look away. “You haven’t been, and I said I’d take you some time.”

A small rush of excitement hits you, making your fingers tingly. You almost forget the reason she’s invited you out, the reason she called you here in the first place.

“Mel,” you start, unsure. “Are you sure? I mean we aren’t—We haven’t exactly been… talking.”

Silence.

“We don’t have to go,” Mel sighs, looking back at you. Her expression is neutral, unreadable.

“No, it’s—” You bring a hand up, rubbing across your forehead. “Sorry. You’re trying to be nice. I just don’t want you to feel trapped, I guess. Not in your place you share with Owen.”

Mel chews on her lip, pulling it between her teeth. “I figured it’s private. And big. So, if we talk and things don’t…” She trails off, but you know what she’s thinking. “There’s space to cool off.”

You can kind of see where she’s coming from, why she’d suggest it. There’s no chance of nosey neighbours listening in if you end up fighting, and plenty of space to retreat to if you needed a second.

“I can’t really imagine getting angry in an aquarium, either.”

That pulls a smile from her, small and barely there. “Yeah. It’s pretty neat.”

It’s only a mile to the aquarium, though with all the road blockages and strategic avoidance of areas populated with infected and scars, it always took a bit longer. Your leg makes things slightly more difficult, not being able to confidently make certain jumps, or needing to take your time climbing and shuffling around more precarious places. You faired way better than you-- and most likely Mel-- thought you would have, though it still took over an hour to get to your destination.

Mel is practiced, ducking into buildings and down small side-streets without the need for directions. This was likely the first time she’s had to make the trip without Owen, but she doesn’t show it, her confidence never wavering. Alice is much the same, seeming to already know where to sit and wait and jump. Mel’s done an amazing job handling her, their bond undeniably strong.

It’s almost silent on the journey over, only talking when you need to about directions. Mel tries to start small talk, but that fizzles out after a “Good, you?” “Yeah, me too.”

The elephant is too big for this very small room you find yourselves in.

You just concentrate on your footing, making sure each step is solid and confident, taking the time to check your surroundings every now and then, watching as the Ferris wheel in the distance get’s closer and closer like a homing beacon. You never truly realised the scale of the thing until you were right next to it, feeling dizzy as you look up at the very top of the structure. You swear the ocean wind is making the whole thing sway, not just the carriages.

“People used to ride these…? For fun?”

Mel nods, pulling herself up a broken bit of board, holding out a hand for you to take. “Yeah, for sightseeing. Owen says he’s been up there, climbed it when he first found the place. He only went halfway, but apparently the view was amazing.”

“You’ve never been up there?” You clasp her hand, using it and the railing to lever yourself across. Your leg isn’t unusable, but you can feel your joints stiffening and don’t trust yourself to make it across the slippery, broken wood.

Mel scoffs. “No. I like living, thank you very much.”

She leads you along the boardwalk, pointing out broken and rotted boards with her flashlight as you walk.

Just like the Ferris wheel, the building boasting the words Seattle Waterfront Aquarium along the top stuns you a bit. You’ve never been to an aquarium, only seen the photos in the brochure that Mel gave you, so the scale of it was surprising. It’s huge, and a lot less ocean themed than you thought it was going to be from the outside.

“This way.” Mel waves you on, ducking under a collapsed fence. “We usually enter the back way, but the front is much more impressive.”

You follow her around the side of the building, stepping on the same boards as her. Alice trots by her side, shaking off the occasional spray of water that carries on the wind from the crashing waves nearby.

Mel stops at a set of doors off to the side of the building, glass panels boarded up on the inside by mismatched wooden planks. A smaller sign is built into the eaves above the door, though some of the metal letters are missing, so it ends up spelling SEAT E WATERF ONT A UARIUM.

She digs around in her pants pocket for a ring of keys, a plastic jellyfish hanging off the chain. She fiddles with the metal before finding the one she needs, picking it out and shoving it into the lock of the door.

“Okay, I need to go turn the lights on. Stay out here for a second. Alice, stay.”

She wrenches the door open, slipping through the small gap and closing it behind her. Alice stands guard, back posted to the wood, looking up at you. You reach down, patting and ruffling the fur between her ears.

“You think this was a good idea, Al? Huh?” Her head tilts as you speak, ears perking up. “Yeah, I don’t know either.” You pull a piece of jerky from your coat pocket, throwing it up in the air. With a delicate little jump, she snaps it up in her muzzle, chewing happily.

Light flickers between the cracks in the wood, and a few seconds later the door handle turns, Mel opening it once more.

“Alright, come in.”

Alice slips in first, the sound of her nails clicking against the floor echoing through the room. You follow after, blinking as the sudden brightness of inside stings your eyes after squinting in the moonlight for the past hour.

It’s hard to know what to expect. Sure, you’ve seen the brochure, but it’s been nearly thirty years since things went to shit. A lot can happen in that time. Owen’s also been making the place his own for the past three years, and who knows what the hell that could entail.

For the third time this morning, you’re stunned.

The first thing you notice are the whales. A parent and a baby, floating in the middle of the room ahead of you. Schools of fish hang along with them, creating the illusion that they’re truly swimming in the air.

Ripples like seafoam move along the walls, eves accented by water reflective patterns that hang from the balconies. Woven between the railings and across the whale sculptures are strings of lanterns, the warm yellow light filling the space. It’s glowing, like the flickering flame of a campfire, bouncing along the walls that are covered in colourful drawings, only on the lower half where a child could reach no higher.

It is so delightfully ocean themed that it makes you giddy. One of the many doors leading out from this room has been built into a shark’s mouth. This is exactly what you were expecting to see from the outside.

“Cool huh?” Mel asks, voice soft as she stands next to you, taking it all in. All you can do is nod, not being able to find the words for how amazing this all is.

Alice does a lap around a circular desk in the centre of the room, stopping and stretching into a dog bed, jaw closing around a purple squid toy. It squeaks as she chews on it, front paws coming to hold it against the floor as she gets to work on ripping one of its tentacles off.

Mel walks further in, you blindly following her. You’re still taking in your surroundings, head swivelling as you find more and more to look at.

A desk over to the right has been set up with what looks like a moonshine rig—undoubtably Owens. Rugs are places like a patchwork over the floor, under Alice’s bed that is lovingly lined with toys and blankets. A firepit sits in the middle of that circular desk, two throw pillows and a single blanket puddled on the ground next to it, a neat stack of firewood ready to burn nearby.

You find traces of Mel and Owen in everything here. An accumulation of their love.

It almost feels wrong to be here, like you’re intruding on something especially private. The fact that Mel has invited you here, even though you’re not on good terms, isn’t lost on you.

You gravitate towards one of the walls off to the left, painted white with a graphite sketch over the top. A couple of colours have been laid down, but nothing with a huge amount of detail. It’s… familiar, somehow. A field of giraffes and zebras. Your hand reaches out, grazing across the long neck of a giraffe.

“It’s not perfect, mostly from memory, but Owen’s done a really good job.” Mel says, coming to stand next to you.

“Owen did this?” You ask, slightly shocked.

Mel nods, smiling to herself. “The guys make fun of him for it sometimes so he doesn’t like to talk about it a lot, but he’s really talented. Been drawing since he was a kid.”

“Where is this?” You lean in to look closer at the buildings in the background, trying to find something identifiable.

“Salt Lake City. It’s where we were stationed-- Saint Mary’s.” She reaches over, points to a building off to the side, Saint Mary’s Hospital scrawled on the top. “Here.”

“Oh,” you blink, looking at the whole picture once more. “That— Yeah, he did an amazing job, holy shit.”

“You’ve been here?”

“Passed by it years ago, on my way to Washington from Colorado. I don’t remember a lot of that year, but I do remember trying to sneak to a lake or something in the middle of this field.” Your hands glide to the water in the mural, touching the blue paint blocked out there. “But there were all these people who looked like soldiers around, so I hid and hid for hours waiting for it to get dark. I ended up just watching all these animals move and eat and sleep. Giraffes and zebras and all kinds of birds.”

“That was us,” Mel says softly, wistful, filled with memory. “The Fireflies.”

“Huh…”

You both stare at the mural awhile longer, thinking back on a time in your lives that you both shared, just a field away.

“Come with me, I’ll show you upstairs.”

Mel nods her head to the set of steps the mural is painted on, turning to walk towards them. Alice perks up from her spot in her bed, stuffing the head of the squid in her mouth with a squeak before rising to join you.

You look away from the mural, following behind her, shifting your duffel on your back.

There’s a lot of steps, but you take your time as you climb them. You’re honestly really fucking proud of yourself. This is the first big trip you’ve taken since that one patrol you tried to do, and you’re dealing with it way better than you were expecting. You’ll ache in the morning, but it’ll be so worth it.

You can’t wait to tell Abby.

Alice patiently trots beside you, nudging against your bum leg when it begins to tremble slightly on the last couple of steps, helping to stable it. She’s such a good girl.

Mel’s waiting by another set of double doors, a sign in script saying Stingray Bay Café scrawled above it, a stingray floating through and making its tail the T in Stingray. When she sees you’ve made it, she turns, unlocking the door and opening it, holding it for you.

The inside of this room doesn’t look like a café at all, the only thing giving it away being the couple of booth seats off to the right.

This place is cozier than the entrance, similar lights strung from the ceiling to light up the room. Smaller ones are wrapped along the handles and railings of a small flight of steps, separating the two levels of the room. Curtains that hang from the big floor to ceiling windows in front of you are drawn back, the faintest glow of pink beginning to crest the horizon, through the row of buildings and trees.

There are multiple couches throughout the room, a mix-match of cushions and blankets strewn across each one. A table off to the left is piled with cans and preserved food packets from the Stadium, bowls and cutlery set off to the side.

A bed rests in the corner, butting up against one of these large windows, the Ferris wheel in perfect view. It looks soft and well lived in, blankets twisted together, pillows piled up in a corner. A sock dangled out between the sheets, kicked off in the night and forgotten.

“Here, come sit.” Mel gestures to a yellow couch in front of a set of windows, a multi-coloured knitted blanket thrown over the back. “You can put your bag down anywhere.”

You climb the steps, Alice faithfully by your side as you unhook your duffel, dropping it by the back of the couch. You sit down, falling into the cushions a bit and lean down, undoing the laces of your wet boots to pull them off your tired and aching feet. It’s a bit of relief, and you can’t help the sigh that leaves you as you sink back.

Alice settles down on a bed made up in the corner, curling up and resting her head on her paws, blinking at you and Mel who shuffles around the room.

“You want a drink?”

“Sure.”

The sound of ceramic clinking together, the glugluglug of something being poured from a long-necked bottle.

“Here,” she offers, moving to sit on the sofa beside you. The gap between you feels miles long. “It’s something Owen’s been making. It’s… not good. But it works.”

You take the mug, looking away as your fingers brush. “Thanks.”

You take a sip. It burns and tastes horrible, too much like rubbing alcohol and not a lot else. “Oh my god—” you cough, looking into your mug. You take a breath, sucking through your teeth. “What even is that?”

Mel shrugs, taking a sip of her own. She grimaces and hides a cough behind her hand. “I honestly don’t know. He was really proud of it, so I’ve just been suffering through each glass.”

You chuckle, taking another tiny sip. It burns just as much.

You both sit there, nursing your mugs as your eyes trail over the view out the window. It’s beautiful, the sun rising ever so slowly. You can see a bit of the ocean from here, the crashing waves and white foam tinted blue, pink, and orange.

“I think…” Mel starts, startling you a bit with the break of the silence. “I think, you owe it to me to listen to what I have to say.”

You look to her, but she keeps looking ahead, hands wrapped around her mug in her lap.

‘I think the two of you just need to talk, hear where the other person is coming from.’

You chew your lip, nodding and looking back to the window. “Yeah, okay.”

Mel nods, taking a breath through her nose. “I don’t even know where to start,” she chuckles, sinking back into the couch, tucking her feet up under her.

You think, looking down at you mug and running a finger along the rim. “What happened between you and Abby?”

Mel tenses, takes another sip. “That’s… alright, yeah.”

She’s silent for a moment, hesitating every time she opens her mouth.

“We used to be really close,” she starts, voice just louder than a whisper. “I’d call us best friends, but I knew her actual best friend was Owen… I mean, they were dating and everything, so it didn’t bother me much. We all used to hang out. It was nice.” She smiles, though her eyes are focused somewhere in the distance, lost in a memory.

“A lot of stuff happened while they were dating, and in the end they broke up because of it, but they were still friends-- or at least on speaking terms-- so Abby and I would still hang around him. Talk to him a lot.

“Then Abby started getting more assignments from Isaac. She was gone more often than not, and Owen and I would still go and grab food together or hang out after work.”

Mel laughs softly, a huff through her nose as she looks down at her lap, picking at a stray thread on her sweater.

“He’s… very charming. Very sweet. I started liking him a lot. And I told her, confessed that I had feelings for Owen, and she was okay with that. Abby said she didn’t care— she’d come out by then-- but we all started getting so busy, so all my free time was taken up by Owen and vice versa… so Abby just kind of got left behind.” Mel’s lips twitch into a frown, hiding it by taking another sip. “I didn’t even realise until after Owen and I got together around Christmas, when I tried to go tell her.”

You pause, lips wrapped around the edge of the mug, alcohol burning your nostrils.

‘I don’t think I’d stop hanging out with you just because I got into a relationship.’

‘Yeah, like I haven’t heard that before.’

Your heart breaks a bit as you listen to Mel, finally getting context to that fight you and Abby had that felt so long ago now. She’d said that it was partly due to jealousy, and while you don’t doubt that’s true, the rest of it must have been because she was scared.

She tried pushing you away before she could get hurt again. Like last time.

Oh, Abby…

“We ended up fighting,” Mel continues, staring hard out the window. The sun has risen a bit more now, pinks and oranges painting the sky, illuminating the Seattle clouds. “I don’t even remember most of it… just a lot of arguing, bringing things up that didn’t even matter.

“At the end, when we were exhausted, she looked me up and down and said that I was nothing but a rebound to Owen. That he didn’t actually like me, that I was just—I was convenient.” She tips her mug back, draining the last of the alcohol from the vessel. She places it on the arm of the couch, empty.

You take a breath, tensing. “Mel…”

“I know it’s not true, that she said it just to hurt me… But it wasn’t her words that hurt, just her wanting them to.”

You put your mug down on the floor next to your duffel bag, not wanting to have the rest of this conversation drunk.

“Is that why…?” You struggle to finish the sentence.

Don’t want her around? Don’t want me to fall in love with her? Don’t want us to be together? Do all the things we already have?

Mel chews on the inside of her cheek.

“I’ll tell you what I told her.” She looks to you, for the first time since this conversation started. Her eyes are glassy, bags underneath deep and purple. You hadn’t realised how tired she looked until now. Just as much as you feel.

“Being friends with Abby is exhausting and unfair. You won’t take priority over certain things in her life, no matter how hard you try.

“The reason she and Owen broke up… It’s not my story to tell, but it’s why I’m so worried about you. The same thing that happened to Owen is just going to happen to you, and I can’t stand around and be okay with that.”

Her gaze flickers between your eyes, almost pleading. She’s trying to make you understand.

And you do. You really honestly do. And the more you look at those sad eyes the more you want to tell her that she’s right, that you’ll never talk to Abby again, that you’re sorry for everything. You miss your best friend so much it physically hurts, and you’ll do anything to hear her laugh again, to go back to your shared room and gossip and fall asleep squished on the couch together.

But…

“I… Mel, I get where you’re coming from,” you start, hands fidgeting in your lap. You lick your lips, taking a breath. “And I can’t imagine how much what she said must have hurt-- and I don’t want you to think that I’m ignoring what she did. And you’re right; I don’t know what happened between her and Owen. But I find it hard to… I don’t know.” You scrub at your face, rubbing your temples.

“She was the one I went to when we fought. It was so late, and she was half asleep, but she answered the door and dropped everything to comfort me.”

Mel winces, frowning at the idea of Abby comforting you after a fight with her, when no doubt in her mind it should have been the other way around.

“She’s let me sleep at her place just because I was too anxious to come home. She makes time for me based on my schedule, even when it’s so late at night and she has training the next day.” You drift a hand down, rubbing at the knee of your injured leg. “I wouldn’t have been able to make it here if it weren’t for her… She’s changed when she works out half the time so she can help me. I don’t even see Pierre anymore, just her.”

Your throat feels tight, a sharp sting as you swallow. You look to Mel, needing her to see you. See how serious you are about all of this.

“I really really like her. I’m—” your voice breaks, low and whispering. “I’m in love with her… And as much as I want to listen to you and think you’re completely right and give up— I can’t. I want to try. She deserves a chance.”

Mel watches you, sees the way your chest stutters as you breathe, hears the tremble in your voice, feels the way you shift on the couch, fingers dug into your knee through the fabric of your pants.

She sighs, long, slow and resigned.

“I know,” she murmurs, reaching out a hand, placing it on top of your own. “I knew before we came here, before I asked to meet you,” she confesses. “Loving Abby is one of the easiest and most difficult things I have ever done. I don’t want that burden to be put on you, but I know that’s not—I can’t make that decision for you.”

You fingers flex under hers, spreading them so they slot between, the two of you clasping them together.

“I talked to Nora, asked what I was meant to do, how to get through to you that this was a bad idea… and she told me that there wasn’t a lot that I could do. That you’re not mine to decide what to do with. That all I can do is be there for you.” She squeezes your hand.

“You’ve been kept in the dark about a lot. Nobody’s told you anything. You’ve been left to put the pieces together yourself, and it wasn’t fair of me to get angry with you as if you knew the whole time.

“And while I stand by what I said, that I think you’re going to come out of this hurt, I’m not going to stop you from doing what makes you happy… As long as you’re okay with knowing that I don’t agree, and that it’ll take a lot for me to think otherwise.”

Shifting your body, you bring one of your legs up on the couch, turning to face Mel entirely. You’re closer now, hands clasped together between you, resting on the cushions.

“I’m not going to lie and say that I didn’t wish things were different, because I obviously do. But I’m also not going to use every moment I spend with Abby trying to justify my actions to you… I think-- This is something that you and Abby need to work out yourselves.” You bring your other hand to cover hers, encompassing it entirely with both of your own. “I love you both, but I don’t want to become a conduit for this.”

Mel blinks, looking at you but also not as she retreats in on herself, the way she does when she’s thinking. You squeeze her hand again, gently between your own, trying to pull her back to you.

“I’m sorry I kept it from you, her coming over. I just wanted to help her out, but I knew you weren’t going to like it, so I didn’t tell you. Which I shouldn’t of, I know. I think I would have eventually, but it just became… things started getting— We—”

“I saw you two in the gym the other day.”

Your stutters die on your tongue, apologetic rambling quieting as Mel’s jaw works, thinking, her words hanging in the air between you.

“I heard you scream when Nora and I were walking home, so I looked over and you were… she was spinning you around, and you were smiling so big. Laughing. I haven’t heard you laugh like that in weeks.”

“Mel…” You frown, heart breaking just a bit more.

“I can put the pieces together. I’m not dumb.” She barely contains her scoff, though she looks guilty about it the second the sound escapes her. Her expression softens, the tension in her brows smoothing out, her lips tilting downwards. “Just promise me you’ll be careful. That you’ll talk to her, at least. Ask her about what happened with her and Owen… If you two are going to— If you… love her, then you deserve to know.”

You nod, not knowing what else you can do in this moment. “I will.”

It’s tense, a long silence. Your hands are starting to sweat, stacked up on top of each other, fingers curled together and squeezing hard. The alcohol chooses this moment to catch up to you, mind going slightly fuzzy around the edges.

“Are we… okay?”

Mel hesitates, choosing her next words carefully. “I’m not exactly jumping for joy,” she says, looking back up at you. “But I miss you, and love you far too much to throw this all away just because things get a bit difficult.”

You let out a relived breath, pulling her in by her hand across the gap in the couch, meeting her in the middle. You wrap your arms around her, burying yourself in her bony shoulder, blinking away the tears that mist your eyes. “I’ve missed you too.”

There’s no hesitation this time, her arms sling across your middle, pulling you in tight against her. You sniffle, drawing in shaky breaths as you cry against her, squeezing tight.

“We’re never allowed to fight ever again,” you say, the words muffled into her shirt.

Mel laughs wetly, drawing back just enough to look at you. A palm comes up to cradle your cheek, thumb swiping away the tears that fall from your lashes.

“I don’t plan on it,” she sniffles.

“I’m sorry for calling you an asshole.”

Mel snorts, using her sleeve to scrub at her eyes. “It’s fine. It’s a little bit funny now that I’m not angry.” She blinks at you, eyes slightly red, lashes clumping together from her tears. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have approached you like that. I was confused and—and mad and I should have taken time to cool down before trying to talk to you about it. Especially at work.”

Shrugging, you move back in to hold her again. You’ve forgotten how small she is, especially compared to Abby. “You’re fine. Work was… definitely not the place, but I get it. It was a lot.”

She relaxes in your arms, hooking her chin over your shoulder. It’s nice, having her be so close, closing this distance you’ve been feeling for far too long.

A soft whine from across the room makes you both turn, untangling form each other to look over to Alice, tail thumping the pillows in her bed as she watches you with the biggest, saddest eyes.

“Alice…” Mel sighs. “You know Owen doesn’t like you on the furniture.”

“Last time I checked, Owen isn’t here.” You turn to Mel, eyes equally as pleading. “And she’s so lonely over there…”

Mel looks between the two of you, attacked from all sides. Her eyes roll, sighing as she clicks her fingers, Alice’s ears perking up.

“Alice, come.”

Alice stands, does a sleepy little stretch before padding over, gracefully jumping up onto the couch between the both of you. She’s a big dog, so she curls up as much as she can, setting down her head on Mel’s thighs with a quiet whuff. Her tail thumps lazily against your legs, her back leg kicking while you scratch along her side.

“You’re on your own if Owen finds out,” Mel says, gently dragging her fingers over Alice’s snout.

“There’s like, ten sofas in this room alone. He’ll live.”

The sky is a bit brighter now, blue blending into purple, blending into pink, then orange. The ball of the sun is hidden behind the buildings ahead of you, the silhouettes tall and dark in contrast to the painted sky. Clouds hang low, heavy and ready to fall. It’ll be another rainy day today, not that you’re worried.

It’s hard to worry about much, curled up on an ugly yellow sofa with your best friend and her dog, dozing in and out as the world wakes up around you.

⸙

“No way did people actually do that.”

You shake your head as you gaze up at the cage hanging in the middle of the room, two mannequins dressed in head-to-toe scuba gear trapped inside. Large shark sculptures, much like the ones of the whales in the entrance room, circle the cage, the largest of which has its jaws wrapped around the metal.

Mel shrugs, sipping from her mug, topped up before you left the café. “They used to seek out danger back then, for fun. Plus, it was probably so they could do research. Observe them in their natural environment.”

You shudder at the thought, drink sloshing up the sides of your own mug. “Weird. Surely there’s a better way to do that than be stuck in a cage underwater.”

Mel tilts her head, looking at the scene. “I think the cage is meant to protect them.”

You take a drink, wincing and coughing as you swallow. You’ve drunk enough that you keep forgetting to take little sips, the alcohol burning down your throat and clearing your airways. You’ve got a light buzz going, though if you don’t slow down, it’ll quickly become something more.

“Whatever. You won’t catch me doing anything like this ever.”

“I’m sure the marine biologists of the world are mourning their loss as we speak.”

You roll your eyes, bumping into her lightly with your shoulder as she laughs. Mel jolts back, pushing her mug in front of her to avoid the splash that falls over the side of it.

After watching the sunrise and taking a short nap on Alice, the two of you shared a tin of canned peaches, refilled your mugs, and went for a walk. Mel was giving you the official tour of the place, leading you through the exhibits as if she were a tour guide.

This place was well past its glory days, and you think you’ve seen more bugs and mice than fish at this point, but you were still having a surprising amount of fun roaming from room to room. Not all were completely empty, the tanks still connected to the water in the marina still full, schools of fish and different types of grass and algae taking over. It was fun watching the fish swim past, pretending that they were meant to be there, reading the facts written on the walls and nodding along as you observed them. You made sure to tuck away some of the more interesting things you learned, things you think Abby would enjoy hearing about.

Who knew that jellyfish didn’t have brains.

You continue around the room, running your hands over the bumpy coral that makes the walls. It was insanely impressive, and you could imagine with some clever lighting that you would really feel as if you were under water.

A break in the coral reveals an alcove, a truly giant set of teeth startling you for a second, your heart lurching into your throat.

“Is this real?”

Mel wanders over to where you’re standing, looking over the shark mouth bolted to the ground, faded brown and full of dozens of sharp teeth.

“I… don’t know, actually. I don’t think so. I think it’s just a place to take photos.” She takes a sip, clearing her throat at the burn. “But I wouldn’t know. I’ve never seen a real shark before.”

You step through the giant maw, turning to face Mel from the inside. There are teeth everywhere, pointing in different directions…. Is that two rows?

“Imagine this charging towards you while you’re stuck in a stupid cage.”

Mel scoffs. “Imagine that charging at you while you’re not in a cage.”

You hum, holding a hand out and pressing a finger to the tip of one of the teeth above you. “Scary.”

Mel huffs, laughing as she rolls her eyes, walking off towards the next room. She pauses at the double doors, holding one open, waiting for you to join. They’re blue and painted with delightful looking jellyfish.

God, you love this place.

With one final touch of the teeth you follow, walking past Mel and out onto a curved walkway. You’re on the same level as the café, though a wave of sculpted foam blocks your path to it.

You stop at the glass railings, overlooking the place. The whales in the centre of the room are closer now, the impressive sculptures looking much bigger now that you’re so close. You feel like you could reach out and touch them. You don’t, though. You don’t trust your balance after two mugs of Owen’s moonshine.

Resting your arms on the glass, you bring your mug to your lips, taking a sip.

“Thank you for bringing me here.” You look to her, watching as she walks over. “For trusting me with it.”

Mel shrugs, setting up next to you. Your arms brush, filling you with that familiar warmth that you’ve missed from your best friend. It’s so noticeably different with Mel, the way being around her feels compared to Abby. They both offer the same things; warmth, comfort, safety, but while Mel’s feels more familial, like how hugs from your mom used to be, you swear you can feel Abby right down to the marrow of your bones.

“Can’t think of anyone else that I would.”

You can’t help the flush that creeps across your cheeks, the smile that twitches at your lips.

“I’m happy for you, for having all this.” You gesture to the aquarium around you. “For having Owen. He really loves you.”

It’s her turn to blush, thumbing the edge of her mug. “I know. He’s so loud about it,” she scoffs, making you laugh.

“It’s sweet.”

“Yeah… it is,” she says with a sigh, smile playing on her lips.

You turn back to the room, eyes trailing over the strings of lanterns and clusters of fish. A flash of red off to the left catches your eye, just past the doors of the Sunken Treasure Gift Shop.

“What the hell is that?” You push off the railing, squinting past Mel and through the doorway.

Mel looks over with you, smiling as she turns back to you. “Oh, you’ll love this.”

She grabs your arm, dragging you with her around the walkway, pausing just past the doors of the giftshop. Your eyes widen, talking the room in.

“Holy shit, that’s huge!”

A giant red octopus takes over the majority of the room, tentacles curling and wrapping around the pillars holding the building up, pulling itself to climb up the balcony. Debris and rubble pool around it, the walls and roof collapsing at some point over the past few decades, blocking off the stairs leading to the lower level.

You reach a hand out, running your fingers over the dusty sculpture, the plaster cool to the touch.

“So cool…” you murmur, looking the octopus in one of its inky black eyes. “Do you think they’re this big in real life?”

Mel laughs from her spot in the doorway, leaning against the frame of it. “I’m never going near the ocean again if they are.”

“Maybe you should get one of those cages, then. To keep you safe.”

“Ha ha.”

You chuckle, running your hand up one of the tentacles, the suckers underneath bigger than your entire splayed hand. Using it as an anchor you lean over the crumbled railing, looking down into the giftshop underneath. The shelves up on this level are barren, but you can spot some shirts and other merchandise scattered about on the bottom floor.

“Can we get down there?” You ask over your shoulder, pulling yourself back before you get dizzy.

“You want your keychain?” Mel asks, smiling into her mug.

“Uh, obviously.”

She huffs a laugh, nodding her head behind her. “Follow me.”

Mel leads you back out, retracing her steps through the shark room and a couple other exhibits, bringing you back to the entrance with the circular desk. The gift shop is right across from it, silhouettes of about a hundred fish swimming around the double doors leading inside.

Unlocking the door, Mel pushes inside, having to kick a coat hanger out from under the door when it gets jammed. “All yours,” she says, gesturing into the room with a sweep of her arm.

The tentacles from the upper floor have made their way down here, breaking up the grey and bleached surroundings. Shelves and displays have rotted over time, nature reclaiming it back to itself once more.

Unlike the top floor, there’s plenty of merchandise for you to riffle through and look at. A treasure chest filled with plush toys sits in the centre of the room, most of which you have seen occupying any one of Alice’s many dog beds. There’s multiple clothing racks filled with t-shirts, punny slogans slapped over images of sea animals. They’re awfully tempting, and you are in the market for a pyjama shirt to keep at Abby’s-- but you’re not sure if she’d find a shirt with a cartoon whale saying ‘Don’t krill my vibe’ on it very sexy or alluring.

Your eyes fall to the registers where, just like always, stands a tall rotating display filled with colourful keychains. You beeline right for it, placing your mug on a random shelf as you pass. Mel’s gotten you keychains from the aquarium before, but this is the first time you’re able to have a look for yourself, to be able to dig through and find the perfect one.

She laughs when she sees you nearly tripping over a broken board in your haste, shaking her head as she settles by the treasure chest.

There are so many names to choose from, the rack still being mostly full after so many years. You guess pieces of ocean themed plastic weren’t really high on the list of things for people to take once the world ended.

Spinning the display, you glance over all of the possibilities, trying to take note of names you’ve collected in the past. Your own name would be an obvious choice, but that was the first one Mel got you, and you already have too many to justify a double up.

You hesitate when you reach the A’s, eyes easily finding ‘Abigail’, only one keychain left on its peg. It’s filled with liquid, golden glitter clumped around a starfish charm at the bottom. It’s the kind that works like a snow globe, the glitter floating around when you shake it.

It’s perfect.

You reach for it, thumb running over the blue letters.

You miss her.

Unhooking it from its peg, you pocket the keychain, burying it nice and safe in your back pocket.

Stepping back, something under your foot scratches against the wood, making an awful sound. You lift your foot, a glint of silver flashing amongst the dust and debris.

A quarter.

Blinking, you look back up at the registers, feeling like an idiot for not thinking about it sooner.

Mel’s disappeared behind the treasure chest, shuffling around in another part of the gift shop, so she’s not around to see you climb over the counter. Your leg protests a bit, and you nearly slip on an old tote bag laying on the floor, but you make it over without dying.

The registers are… confusing. There’s so many buttons and it takes you far too long to realise that these things probably need electricity to work. You’re about to pick the damn thing up and throw it on the ground when a small lever catches your eye, a catch near the front where the cash drawer is.

Lo and behold, the draw opens with a ding, a mess of coins and faded bills filling the machine as you slide it out all the way.

You scoop all of the quarters out from their slot, settling them in the cup of your hand. You go through them one by one, turning them over and holding them up to the sliver of light that leaks through the windows covered in vines, squinting to make out the pattern.

It takes you a couple of minutes, and at the end you come out with a whole lot of nothing. You were sure there’d be at least one, though maybe you’re misjudging the amount of them in circulation.

Did people even use them as real money?

Sighing, you put all the quarters back, popping the register draw closed with another ding. You slump against the surface, resting your chin in your hand that smells eerily like blood and rust.

Looking down the counter, you spot a second register, bills jammed and sticking out of the drawer that’s already popped slightly open.

You tap your fingers against the counter before pushing yourself back up, stepping over an overturned chair to get to it. Prying your fingers into the draw you lever it open, paper money fluttering to the floor around your feet.

While the bills compartment of this register is nearly empty, it doesn’t look like anyone’s touched the coins, let alone the quarters. Using the same strat as before, you slowly pick through the quarters, flipping them over to examine both sides. You’ve nearly worked through the entire handful when you finally spot it.

A flash of a fox perched gracefully on a log. 2002 printed along the bottom.

Mississippi.

You gasp, nearly dropping the rest of the quarters as you deposit them sloppily back into the register.

No way.

“You okay?” Mel calls out, sticking her head out from behind the treasure chest. She’s frowning, brows furrowed as she checks over you.

“Yeah, sorry,” you say sheepishly, waving her off.

Mel steps out from behind the display, a snow globe in her hand. “What’re you doing?”

Your hand clasps around the coin, the cool metal warming in your fist. “It’s— Nothing, just something I found.”

“Come on,” Mel says, leaning over the counter. “I don’t care what you take. Show me?”

You hesitate, fingers clasping around the coin tighter. It’s nothing, just a coin, but you don’t know how Mel will feel about you rummaging through her and Owen’s stuff for things to take home to Abby.

You slide your hand across, opening your palm to show the quarter. The plain side is showing, the fox hiding underneath.

Mel tilts her head. “You know you don’t have to pay for any of this,” she jokes, looking back up at you. Her fingers graze your hand as she picks the coin up, flipping it around in her fingers.

She takes a second, holding the coin up to look over the design on the reverse, reading the small text. You watch her carefully, seeing the moment it clicks, her eyes looking between you and the coin.

“This for Abby?”

You swallow, nodding as you look down at the counter, not being able to keep her gaze. She’s silent for a moment, the creaking of the building and crashing of nearby waves filling the void.

The coin is placed back in your palm. Mel clears her throat. “She’ll like it.”

You look back up just in time to catch Mel turning away, back facing you as she moves to the doorway.

“Hey, Mel?”

She stops.

“Yeah?”

“Can…” You clasp your hand around the coin. “Can Abby still come over sometimes? When you’re out? It’s—” Your voice quiets, almost a whisper. “I hate sleeping alone.”

Mel chews her lip, fiddling with the snow globe in her hands as she turns back to you.

“I don’t—” She sighs, rubbing her forehead. “I’m not happy about it, but I’m not going to tell you what you can and can’t do in your own room… I just don’t want to see her.”

“Of course. You won’t even know she’s been there.”

Mel huffs a laugh, looking pointedly at your neck. “I doubt that.”

For the second time in a matter of days you slap your hand to your neck, the yellowish stain just under your jaw giving you away.

“I—You know what I meant,” you grumble, cheeks darkening.

She simply shrugs, turning back on her heel and walking out of the giftshop, shaking the snow globe, watching the silver glitter swirl around the small walrus inside it.

You spend the rest of the day lazing about, moving onto a bottle of wine Mel has stashed in a supply cupboard, passing the bottle between you as you talk and play with Alice. You even bust out a deck of cards, an oversized children’s set depicting various cartoon sea creatures on each card, playing rounds and rounds of games they give you the instructions for in the box until you grow bored and hungry.

You both crawl into the same bed in the evening, huddled under a patchwork blanket as you watch the sunset, capping the day off the way you started it. A pouch of jerky is shared between you and Alice, snapping up the pieces thrown to her from her spot at the end of the bed. She has her own blanket laid out just for her, both for her comfort and to hopefully avoid getting dog hair on the sheets. “You’re going to make her fat,” Mel scolds, though the way the corner of her mouth ticks up lets you know she isn’t actually mad.

“Oh, come on, she deserves it after that hike this morning.” One of your hands drifts down, rubbing absent mindedly at your calf. “I don’t know how you do that every time. It felt like I was running some sort of gauntlet.”

“Well, I don’t have a permanent leg injury,” she states, sneaking a piece of jerky for herself from the pouch in your lap. “So, there’s that.”

“Can’t believe you’re using something out of my control against me like this.” You shake your head, tutting at her playfully. “Real low, Mel.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware someone forced you into doing secret laps of the room despite being told to rest. My bad.” She’s smirking at you, reaching her hand back for another piece of jerky.

You huff, snatching the pouch out of her reach. “I was dedicated. Besides, if I didn’t fuck my leg up, you wouldn’t get to see me nearly every day.”

“A real tragedy.”

The two of you dissolve into drunken giggles, leaning against each other under your shared blanket. Alice whines from her spot at the end of the bed, dark eyes following the pouch in your hands. You give in, digging out a couple of pieces and throwing them her way.

“I’ve missed this. I can’t remember the last time we hung out like this at home,” Mel confesses, staring out at the sunset over the water, orange rays bouncing off the metal carriages of the Ferris wheel.

“Do you think…” Your voice is small, words trailing off as you look out along with her. “Do you think things will be okay when we go back?”

Mel doesn’t reply right away, eyes focused on the crashing waves. Her jaw works as she thinks, goes over the words in her head.

“I think they will.” It’s soft, and you almost don’t catch it. “I’ll need a bit more time to get used to everything, but I’d like them to be okay.”

“Me too.”

You lay together when you grow tired, facing each other so you can keep talking, voices hushed as if you were at a sleep over with others in the room, giggly and drunk and smelling like the aquarium.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but you know you do so peacefully, face buried in Alice’s fur when she inevitably wriggled her way up.

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#abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby x reader #the last of us x reader #tlou x reader #ao3 #reader insert #peach glaze writes

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voxofthevoid · 3 months ago

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We continue to be in goyuuland with Demon/Hunter Horror Wednesday #10. Sukuna will pop back up in the next chapter, though I'm not sure what the next snippet will be.

The fic is now 90.5k, and I just finished Chapter 13—unlucky or not, it's my favorite chapter so far 😂

It's 9k total and just one big goyuu date, featuring 7 scenes that are basically Gojou flirting like a demon (hah) and Yuuji setting the new world record in obliviousness—until he can't, of course. This week's snippet is the final scene, and it's longer than these posts usually are because I didn't really feel like breaking it up.

Enjoy the extra 300 words?

“Nice house,” Gojou says, looking around the living room with unabashed interest. “You live with your parents?”

“No, my…guardian. He’s not here.”

“And he won’t mind you bringing home strange men?”

“Um.” Nanami will definitely mind, won’t he? Sure, he said Yuuji could bring friends around any time, but Gojou’s not exactly that. He’s not even a classmate. “It’s fine. Probably. I mean, you’re technically not a stranger anymore, and you know Tōji-san, so—yeah, it’ll be fine.”

Gojou chuckles. “If you say so. I promise not to steal his book collection.”

“Yeah, please don’t. Nanami will kill me.”

Gojou strides toward said book collection; he’s taller than the bookshelf. “I’m sure he’s more fond of you than these very dry books.”

“They’re not that bad!”

“Have you read any?”

“None of those, no,” Yuuji admits. “But I’m sure Nanami likes them for a reason.”

“What a cute little ward,” Gojou croons, turning around to look at Yuuji. “Nanami’s so lucky. Megumi wasn’t this nearly this sweet when he was in my custody.”

“…Fushiguro was in your custody?”

“For an entire year,” Gojou confirms. “His daddy earned himself a little time-out. I only obliged.”

“Huh.” Yuuji tries to picture Gojou taking care of Fushiguro—and fails. “Is that why Fushiguro doesn’t like you?

Gojou pouts. “Mean.”

“Uh, sorry, I just meant—”

“I know, I know.” Gojou waves a dismissive hand, before parking it on his hip. “Now, are you going to entertain me as promised, or are we going to stand here talking about other men all night?”

Yuuji gapes at him. “You’re the one who—never mind. Just wait here. I’ll go get the laptop. And change out of these clothes. There’s a bathroom over there too, if you wanna piss or something.”

“Charmer,” Gojou chortles, but he does walk over there.

Yuuji waits for him to vanish into the bathroom before heading upstairs, taking the stairs two at a time. He strips the second he’s inside the bedroom, wincing at the grass stains on Nanami’s turtleneck. He rushes into the en suite and drapes it over the hamper so he’ll remember to wash it and return it to its rightful place.

Then he makes his way to the mirror.

The bruises on his throat are almost gone. There are still smears of red and purple, but it’s not the violent mess that was circling his entire throat when he woke up Saturday morning. The distinct imprint of long, wicked fingers is also gone.

Yuuji sighs in pure relief. He really doesn’t want to raid Nanami’s closet again. It’s so invasive.

Next time Sukuna goes for his throat, Yuuji will bite his fucking fingers off. They’ll grow back anyway.

He gives his back a perfunctory check before turning away. It’s all scabbed over, the shallower parts already healed. They pull on his skin a little, but Yuuji’s got plenty of practice ignoring that.

He does his business and risks a quick shower. He even brushes his teeth.

It’s a little ridiculous, It’s not like Gojou will be fresh or anything. He also spent the whole day just like Yuuji, walking under the sun and hiking through the forest. Still, the thought of sitting on the couch downstairs and watching his new favorite movie with Gojou makes him want to be clean. At least he doesn’t want to be all sticky and gross.

He won’t mind if Gojou smells a little though. Yuuji caught a few whiffs of his scent throughout the day. It was…nice. Some cologne, definitely, but just sweat and something else under that—something both sharp and sweet.

In the mirror, his face grows red.

Yuuji slaps his cheeks. “What the hell am I doing?”

He pulls on some of his own clothes and grabs his laptop before making his way back downstairs. He finds Gojou lying on the couch, that long body taking up the entire length of it and then spilling over, both feet and parts of the calves dangling over one side. Gojou’s got an arm folded under his head and the other holding his phone up. His mouth is one flat line.

“Hey,” Yuuji greets. “I’m back.”

“So you are.” The phone vanishes in a flick of the wrist, and Yuuji spends a good few seconds trying to figure out whether Gojou stashed it between his body and the couch or just slipped it up his sleeve like some wannabe magician. Then Gojou folds that arm under his head too, staring expectantly at Yuuji. “Go on. Entertain me.”

Yuuji rolls his eyes. “Yes, my lord.”

“He learns so fast,” Gojou simpers.

Yuuji ignores him, instead busying himself connecting the laptop to the TV.

“Done!” Yuuji declares. “I’ll go get some soda. Any flavor you like?”

“I’m a simple man,” Gojou says, his head tilted in Yuuji’s direction. “Give me some coke and I’ll be happy.”

“Comin’ right up!”

Gojou’s still stretched out supinely on the couch when Yuuji comes back with the drinks.

“Don’t have any popcorn,” Yuuji tells him, setting the cans down on the coffee table. “Got some chips though, if you’re hungry.”

“Mmm, not yet.”

“Yeah, same. I’ll make dinner after the movie then.”

“What a good host,” Gojou says, and unlike the things he said earlier, this doesn’t sound mocking or even teasing. “Do you like feeding people, Yuuji-kun?”

“Eh? Why would you ask that?”

“You cooked for us all yesterday, even though you were a guest in that house. And I had to practically fight you off for cooking rights in the morning, didn’t I?”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“Now here you are again,” Gojou continues as if Yuuji didn’t speak, “trying to feed me. You can see why I’m curious.”

Yuuji rocks back on his heels, considering it. “Sure, I guess. It’s not a passion or anything, but I’m good at cooking, and I like it when people enjoy my food. That’s natural, isn’t it?”

“It is and it isn’t,” Gojou says agreeably. “But I do love a man who loves to please.”

Yuuji blinks. “Cool. C’mon then, let’s start.”

“Alright.”

Yuuji waits. Gojou doesn’t move.

“Gojou-san,” he says very patiently, “make room for me.”

Gojou looks down the length of his body, as if he doesn’t know it’s taking up the whole couch and then some. He unfolds his arms from under his head, plucking off his sunglasses—and tossing it at Yuuji.

“Woah!” Yuuji catches it, setting it carefully down on the coffee table. When he straightens up, Gojou’s still on his back, his arms now folded on his stomach; his eyes are heavy-lidded, like he’s about to take a nap. “Gojou-san.”

Gojou holds out an arm.

For a moment, Yuuji just stares incredulously at it. Then he sighs and marches over, grabbing the hand to pull Gojou up.

He’s pulled down.

Yuuji goes down hard, not even remotely prepared. He crashes into Gojou’s chest face-first, one hand still tangled with Gojou’s and the other planted on something firm but yielding. The shape is very…distinct.

He raises his burning face. “What are you—”

His voice withers in his throat at the expression on Gojou’s face. The lazy curve of his mouth, the low sweep of his lashes. And, worse, the eyes—all that blue grown dark and devouring.

Yuuji’s seen a near mirror of this expression on another face, broader and darker and red-eyed.

“Caught you,” Gojou murmurs.

The hand not clutching Yuuji’s coming to rest on the small of his back—on bare skin exposed by the sudden fall. Gojou doesn’t hesitate on finding skin instead of fabric. His hand creeps further up, blazing warmth along Yuuji’s spine.

Yuuji shudders violently, his fingers digging into Gojou’s chest—into the thick swell of a pec, its shape and size branding Yuuji’s fingers despite the sweater covering it.

Gojou doesn’t seem to mind. His smile grows wider, flashing a hint of canine. His eyes are still heavy and hot.

“Gojou-san,” Yuuji rasps, the name scraping his throat. Nothing else comes out.

“Yuuji-kun,” Gojou returns, almost as low and nowhere near as rough. “What should I do, now that I’ve caught you?”

His hands answer before Yuuji can, the one on his back creeping along his side to splay over his stomach, all fingers spread wide; the muscles there convulse so violently that Yuuji feels it in his spine—and his cock, hyperaware of how close that hand is to it. Gojou’s other hand extricates itself from Yuuji’s death grip to cup his face, the thumb resting on his lower lip.

Yuuji gets a lot of clues all at once, growing dizzy with it.

“You look scared,” Gojou says softly, and the shape of his mouth around those words isn’t mean, but it’s not kind either. “Don’t worry. I’ll be very gentle.”

Gentle—

“I won’t,” Yuuji gasps, frost burning through the fire in his veins. “I can’t—”

He only means to shove himself off Gojou, but his newly freed hand finds air instead of flesh or upholstery, and down he goes, the world flipping in a riot of color and motion.

The floor meets him gently.

Yuuji’s vision resolves into blue, then white, then an expression that’s blank-eyed scrutiny.

Gojou’s hand flexes under Yuuji’s head, still holding it a few centimeters off the floor. His other hand is under Yuuji’s back, keeping his hips lifted. His knees are parked between Yuuji’s awkwardly splayed legs.

He looks a light breeze away from collapsing on Yuuji.

Yuuji reaches up to grip those broad shoulders. Some of Gojou’s weight sinks into his bones.

Gojou blinks, for the first time since Yuuji opened his eyes.

He says, “You could’ve just said no.”

“…What?”

“I wouldn’t have forced you.”

“What—” It strikes Yuuji then, what his frantic attempt to get away must have looked like. “No, that’s not—I wasn’t—”

“It’s alright,” Gojou says mildly. “Let’s get you up.”

“Wait!”

Gojou waits. Maybe Yuuji doesn’t give him much of a choice, gripping his shoulders with all the strength he dares. If it hurts, Gojou doesn’t show it, but he does lay Yuuji’s head down, still cushioning it with a splayed palm.

“You said you’ll be gentle,” Yuuji hears himself say. “I won’t. I don’t know how.”

Gojou’s eyes widen, their blue a violently swirl around depthless pupils.

Yuuji almost wants to take it back. But he can’t. Gojou doesn’t deserve that.

Yuuji’s kissed people before Sukuna. It was clumsy and harmless. Gentle enough. But those memories feel like they belong to someone else. When Yuuji pictures putting his mouth on flesh, he’s always biting.

The rest of it is worse.

“Ah,” Gojou says quietly. “I understand.”

“I—” It comes out like a laugh, but Yuuji’s not laughing, he’s really not. “I don’t think you do.”

“Maybe.” Gojou dips his head, the tips of his hair brushing Yuuji’s forehead. Soft fire, burning and branding. “But I could.”

“Gojou-san…”

“Shall I teach you, Yuuji,” Gojou breathes, every word bursting open on Yuuji’s lips, “how to be gentle?”

#goyuu #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #wip wednesday #jjk snippets #my fic #divider credit: saradika-graphics #fic: mouth of the wolf

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dan-whoell · 7 months ago

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borrowed

Word count: 1754

Dan borrows an outfit to go down to the corner shop.

Read on AO3

The first thought Dan has when he wakes is that it’s too fucking bright. Someone needs to turn down the sun immediately or he might actually burst into flames. The second thought is that there shouldn't be sunlight in his bedroom (thank you blackout curtains) and its presence must mean he’s not in his own bed. If he’s not at home, then he must be at Phil’s. Which explains everything, mild headache included. They were up late drinking wine and watching trash television before tumbling into bed together.

“Phil,” he mumbles, rolling over to bury his face in his boyfriend’s back. “The sun is too bright. Make it stop.”

Of course Phil says nothing, because the man could sleep through an actual freight train running through his flat and he probably wouldn’t even notice the mess it left behind. “Phil,” he tries again, and although the hitch in Phil’s breathing feels promising, it quickly evens back out and Dan knows he is alone in this fight.

He groans, rolling back the other way to force himself out of bed. He adores Phil, really, but he fucking hates sleeping here. The flat is tiny and there’s no bedside table and there’s an atrocious amount of direct sunlight in the morning, which is his exact grievance today. He rifles blindly through one of Phil’s dresser drawers in search of a pair of sweatpants. Phil won’t actually mind, but they’ll have a playful little argument about it that will end in Dan suggesting that if Phil has such a problem with Dan in his sweats, maybe he should fucking do something about it. He doesn’t bother with a t-shirt. His happened to be in an inopportune spot last night and is no longer in a wearable condition, and Phil’s wardrobe is full of too much color for Dan’s liking.

For himself, at least. Big fan of it on Phil, though to be fair he’s a pretty big fan of anything on Phil. Also nothing at all. And half dressed, boxers and socks and a bare chest. Phil is hot, is the bottom line here. As he makes his way to the kitchen he thinks, not for the first time, how fucking lucky he is to have Phil in his life. Does the man have flaws? Sure. He gets hyperactive and a little overly enthusiastic, he can be pretty messy and leaves nearly every cabinet door open behind him, and he rarely takes I’m just tired as an excuse for Dan’s frequent gray moods. He always wants Dan to open up, to be honest, to share the dark parts of himself that Dan is so sure are going to scare him off. And then he holds Dan, kisses his tears away and promises not to go anywhere.

It’s fucking bewildering, honestly.

But for reasons Dan cannot begin to fathom, Phil means every word. So Dan is going to hold on for as long as he can, cleaning up little messes and closing cabinet doors and making shitty instant coffee in the mornings.

If, that is, Phil had actually bought coffee. There had been a whole conversation about it last night before they convened here, Dan on the phone reminding him that he said he’d run out the previous morning, and since Phil was literally in the supermarket and Dan was picking up takeout, it was a chore that fell to Phil. Apparently, though, Phil had been too focused on bringing up the when are you actually going to move in argument, refusing to accept that Dan was locked into a lease, and it would be six months before he could get out of it. Besides, he hated Phil’s flat, the only thing even remotely appealing about it was Phil himself. It should have been a conversation for months down the road, when they could easily agree to look for a new apartment together, and save themselves a lot of mild irritation.

Including this right now, the dawning realization that he has to leave the apartment to go get coffee. If it were just Dan, he’d figure out how to live without it, cup of tea or a red bull or something, but not Phil. He might say it’s fine, but Dan knows he’ll be disappointed, and he can’t live with himself if he doesn’t do everything in his power to prevent that.

He allows himself one moment of true annoyance about the situation, then takes a deep breath and heads back into the bedroom, once again rifling through Phil’s drawers for something to wear. He doesn’t have it in him to change into jeans, deciding the black sweatpants will have to be good enough. He ends up in a white graphic tee and Phil’s ugly blue and purple jacket, refusing to remember what the hell he did with his own. It’s one of the many items that Phil owns that somehow look incredible on him even though nothing about it is actual appeals to Dan whatsoever, and he’d almost rather freeze than have to wear it himself.

Almost being the operative word.

He doesn’t bother even trying to wake Phil, knowing it’s a lost cause. Even if he did manage to get him up, Phil would insist that he stay in, that they try to figure something else out. He’s not about to let Phil make any concessions this morning. Instead he swipes a pair of mismatched novelty socks (cereal brands, for some fucking reason) and shoves his feet into a pair of Vans that Phil dyed green when Dan went to visit his family. He’s not a fan of these either, but they’re by the front door and they’re more convenient than lacing up his own boots.

Twenty minutes later he’s browsing the aisles of a corner shop, container of instant coffee already in hand. If he’d been thinking more clearly he would have checked for anything else they might need, but thanks to the mild hangover and the overall annoyance of the situation, it hadn’t occurred to him. On a whim he grabs a bag of Maltesers and some crisps, figuring that even if Phil did buy some they can always use more.

The girl at the counter seems to survey him, and he assumes it’s because he looks like exactly what he is: a hungover homosexual who had to borrow his boyfriend’s clothes in order to pop down to the shop. Whatever. He’s done with feeling embarrassed about the decisions he makes, especially when those decisions involve Phil. He gives her a bright, too cheery smile, and she only pops her gum in response.

Phil has only just gotten up when he gets back, and is searching, Dan assumes, through his cabinets for the very thing Dan has in a paper bag.

“You were out,” Dan says flatly, dropping the shopping bag onto the counter. “You’re welcome.”

Phil begins to turn around. “I could have sworn I bought-” He stops short, eyes widening as they land on Dan. “What are you wearing?”

“My clothes were gross.”

“Are those my socks?”

“They were clean, okay, what else did you want me to do?” In retrospect the socks may have been a mistake. He could have just as easily scrounged down to the bottom of the drawer and found two plain black ones that Phil would have forgotten about. Instead he went with the most blatantly Phil pair possible, for reasons he doesn't feel like unpacking right now.

Phil takes a half step toward him then stops, hands flat on the counter. “I- you- Goddammit Dan, why’d you have to- fuck.”

Of all the responses he thought he might get wearing Phil’s clothes, this was not one of them. “Oh, sorry for going to the shop for your coffee, next time I won’t borrow anything and just let you suffer without caffeine. Or maybe I’ll just go naked.”

“It’s not the borrowing, it’s-” Phil’s eyes rake over him for a beat, settling at the place the light blue collar meets his neck. “I’m not used to you in color. It suits you.”

Dan does not understand the conversation they’re having. “So the problem is I’m hot?”

“In part.”

Now Dan steps forward, moving around the counter to reach out for Phil. “You sure knew what to do about that last night.”

But Phil steps out of his grasp, leaning back against the stove they never use. “Yeah, but last night you didn’t give me the perfect argument for you moving in.”

He groans. “No, don’t start this.”

“I’m just saying, you wouldn’t have to borrow my clothes- clothes you look really good in by the way- if you just had all of your stuff here.” He hikes an eyebrow, but Dan can tell he’s fighting a losing battle with a smile.

“I can’t break my lease, and I’m not paying rent for a place I don’t live.”

“You went to law school for five minutes, surely-”

“Oh fuck off!” But they’re both giggling, and this time when Dan reaches out Phil let’s himself be pulled, letting out a little contented sigh as Dan’s fingers curl into the fabric of his t-shirt. “Tell you what,” Dan says against his mouth, forcing himself to say the words that have been rattling around in his head for the last couple of months. “When both of our leases are up, we’ll find a place together.”

Phil pulls back. “Wait really? You’ll actually live with me?”

“Well obviously.” Dan rolls his eyes, smiling. “On the condition that we get black out curtains.”

“And you wear more color.”

“You wear more black.” The counter is immediate, hardly a thought before it’s out if his mouth, but he finds that it’s an excellent demand. Like most things, Phil looks incredible in black. It's a conclusion he's only recently come to, thanks to some black graphic tees that have made the rotation. But he wants Phil in proper black, styled specifically to contrast to his pale skin and hair.

Phil blinks at him in surprise. “Really? You think I suit black?”

“Are you kidding? You’re hot as is, but in black?” He shakes his head, reconsidering. “On second thought, I’m not sure I could handle it.” It’s bait, a little bit, and they both know it.

“What if we stay at yours tonight, and I try on all your clothes and you tell me how good I look?” Phil asks with a grin.

It is, possibly, the best way he can imagine spending his evening.

#with every new video i am gifted seven thousand silly ideas #phan #phanfic #phanfiction #dan and phil #ks writes #ks talks

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saviorellie · 2 years ago

Text

unlearn me.

pairing : abby anderson x reader

pov : second person , she/her pronouns

word count : 2.97k words

warning(s) : angst !!!!!!!! there is no happy ending unforch D: wrestler!abby mention ! abby running from her feelings ! mean!abby if you squint ! once again, the ending is not happy i'm warning you now !!!

notes : first abby fic on this acc [celebration emoji] !!!! i’m so excited to finally post this !!

abby had fucked it up. again.

every time she met someone new, every time she let someone get anywhere near her, she fucked it up. it didn’t matter if she thought they were good for her, if they were nice to her, if they made her feel wanted. she always pushed them away.

she would always tell herself “don’t let them get to close”. they can’t know her too well or see too much or they’ll get scared. and they’ll leave. she had to make sure that she was the one who left first. ending the relationship before it even began, ghosting them after the first date, or the first time they got to see too much of her. she hated that this is how her brain had been wired, hated that she always just hurt herself before someone got the chance to hurt her in the first place.

and as hard as she had tried to fight it, your dates with her were no different.

the first time you guys met was like a scene from a movie. you car had broken down in the parking lot of your university and abby was staying on campus later for wrestling practice. and being the gentleman she was, she offered to drive you home. she had seen you around campus before, at football games or at parties or in the dining hall. though she’d never admit it, she always thought you were cute. and who was she to make a pretty girl sit outside on a park bench all night?

as soon as the words inviting you to get in her car left her mouth, she knew she had made a huge mistake. you batted your tear filled eyes at her and smiled that stupid smile where your bottom lip gets caught between your teeth.

“really?” you asked, honey dripping from your words. and it was too late for her to say no.

“uh… yeah,” she coughed, opening her passenger side door for you. “hop in.”

the entire ride home you couldn’t stop fucking talking. you had the sweetest voice and it was like you just had to stress abby out. like your one goal in life was the make her grip the steering wheel tighter and make sweat form on her upper lip.

when she pulled up in front of your apartment building, she felt this giant weight be lifted off of her shoulders. get out, she was thinking. not because she was mad at you or she didn’t want to be around you. she just couldn’t.

“seriously, thank you so much, abby,” you had smiled at her now that your feet were planted firmly on the ground, hand on her passenger side door.

“yeah, it’s no problem,” she sighed. as much as she secretly enjoyed your presence, you needed to go. she needed to get you and your big eyes and your soft voice out of her line of sight and out of her mind.

“let me make it up to you,” you started, eyebrows furrowing as you thought. “let me take you out! i know this great restaurant nearby, i’ll treat you. it’s the least i can do.”

her heart was racing 1000 miles a minute. ‘let me take you out’?

“y/n it’s really not that big of a deal. you don’t have to,” please don’t, “take me out.”

“abby, i would’ve been sitting out there all night if you hadn’t driven me home. please, just let me buy you dinner.”

she sighed. it would be rude of her to say no more firmly. but she couldn’t go. could she?

fuck it. it’s only one dinner.

“yeah,” she ran a hand through her hair. “fine. dinner. just let me know when.”

one dinner, she had thought. one friday night dinner. she was going to let you buy her a burger and tell her how much you appreciated the drive home and then never speak to you again.

but she couldn’t do it. for once in her life, she couldn't find it in her heart to ghost you. you were so sweet and smart and funny and abby enjoyed being around you. normally she could do a date, maybe two, and then she just couldn’t stay. she never felt remorse, pushing it from her mind as soon as it was over. but she knows that she would never forgive herself if she did that to you.

so, two months after that drive home, you were still hanging out. you had been to dinner 9 times at that point. sometimes her treat, sometimes yours. you had been to movies and to parties and had a few study dates. your friends were starting to ask if you were together. and her friends had started to question her.

everyone knew you. you were the smart, sweet girl who tutored everybody. you were always invited to every party, every outing. you weren’t popular or anything. you were just nice. and people liked you.

so when abby’s friends saw you hanging around her, they started to get worried. they had talked with abby about her “dating” habits before. and while they could talk about every girl on campus, they always agreed that you were off limits. abby’s orders, from herself and her friends, were to avoid you at all cost. you had tutored some of her friends, shared your perfectly organized notes with a few others. and so they all agreed that you were too kind and too trusting for abby to hurt.

“abby…” her roommate had started one day after you left their apartment, “why was she here?”

“’s nothing,” abby had mumbled, “i gave her a ride home a few weeks ago and she still thinks she needs to make it up to me. it’ll be fine just- just give me a few days and i’ll cut her lose.”

tonight was the night, she had told herself. she was going to go over to your apartment, hang out like everything was normal, and then avoid you at all costs. that was the plan.

you opened the door to let her in in your pajama shorts and slippers, your hair pulled out of your face. she looks so beautif- stop.

abby had given you a quick hug and sat on your couch and tried to pay attention to whatever movie you had put on. all she could think about was you. when she was going to remove the smiley face by your name in her phone, when she was going to take the pictures of you off of her instagram highlights. how pretty you looked, how funny you were, how you made her smile so fucking wide her cheeks hurt.

she didn’t leave until past midnight, hanging on to ask much as you as she could before she inevitably left. you were leaning on your doorframe, the dreamiest look in your eye, looking up at her like she had hung the moon just for you.

“i’ll see you tomorrow?”

abby sighed. “i, uh, i have practice tomorrow.”

you smiled at her. “ok… just let me know when you’re free.”

she rolled her eyes. god, can you please take a hint so she doesn’t feel like a dick tomorrow?

“i mean i guess, whatever,” she snapped. she tried to ignore the way your eyes widened and the way your eyebrows furrowed at her sudden outburst. “i’ll see you later, y/n.” and with that she turned and walked away, ignoring the soft “bye, abby” that left your lips and the way the door closed harder than it normally does. she just couldn’t think about it. she needed to push you out of her mind. she couldn’t let you get too close.

seven days. that’s how long it had been. one week with no contact with you. you had texted, obviously. but she had turned her read receipts off and left you on delivered. maybe if she ignored you enough, was just mean enough to you that day she left your apartment, you would leave her alone. but apparently, nothing can ever go the way she wants.

wednesday y/n :) hey ellie said she didn’t see you in class today. are you ok? i know how bad that class has been stressing you out. i can bring you dinner tonight if you want, if you’re not feeling well

thursday y/n :) do you wanna meet in the library today around noonish? i know you don’t have a class so i figured i could help you study for that exam if you wanted.

y/n :) if you’re sick let me know, i wouldn’t mind bringing you soup or the notes from your class or whatever

did i do something to upset you? if you could text me when you’re not busy, that’d be great :)

friday y/n :) abby i don’t know what i did but i really miss you please just call me

saturday y/n :) please just tell me what i did

you sounded desperate and you knew it. but you didn’t care. you were desperate. you had become so close in the past two months and then all of a sudden abby was radio silent. if you didn’t know better you would’ve thought she had fucking died with how quiet she’s been.

abby had read all of your texts and listened to the two voicemails you left over and over. she just needed to push through. if she ignored you for long enough, you would stop calling and stop texting. you would stop cooking her dinner and inviting her on study dates. you just needed time to grieve the relationship that wasn’t and you’d move on. abby didn’t even think she had let you get to know her that well yet.

but even though she would never admit it, she missed you. she missed the way you laughed too loudly and spoke too quietly. she missed the way you held on to her arm at parties and when you were just sitting in her car. she missed talking and texting and just being around you. she had lost sleep over your last text message. the guilt was starting to eat her alive.

you hadn’t texted or texted since saturday. it was tuesday. abby had thought that maybe you had moved on already, meaning she needed to get over it too. she didn’t understand why she felt so guilty.

when she heard a knock on her door at midnight, you were the last person she was expecting to see.

you were standing here in the exact same outfit she had left you in a week ago. the same shorts and the same slippers. the only difference was that now, your face was bright red and your eyes were filled with tears. your arms were crossed and you were shaking. if abby didn’t know any better, she would think you were freezing.

“y/n…” she started. she didn’t want to be mean to you. she didn’t want to hurt your feelings more than they had, apparently, already been hurt. “why are you here? are you okay?”

you rolled your eyes at her, hands falling to your sides. “i don’t know, abby. are you?”

abby’s eyebrows were furrowed and it was taking everything in her not to fall to her knees and apologize to you. for hurting you the way she obviously had.

“yeah, i’m fine. it’s midnight, y/n, did you walk here?” she grabbed your wrist and pulled you inside her apartment. she didn’t want whatever you were about to say to her to be heard by the entire floor.

you rip your wrist from her grasp. “are you sure you’re fine? because you come to my house and watch a movie with me like everything is normal, and then all of sudden you’re ignoring my texts and declining my calls and not showing up to class,” you sighed. you really didn’t want to fight with her, you felt a little silly coming here anyway. you weren’t dating, she wasn’t yours, so she wasn’t obligated to answer your texts. but still. it hurt.

your lip was quivering when you asked her the question that had been floating around in your brain for almost a week.

“did i do something wrong?”

your voice was so small and so sweet and so… sad. abby wanted to scoop you up into her arms and kiss your face and apologize over and over again like ‘sorry’ was the only word she knew. she wasn’t angry. she just felt like a dick.

“y/n,” she ran a hand over her face. she was trying to find the right words to tell that it’s not that she didn’t want to be around you. she just couldn’t. “you didn’t do anything wrong. it’s just…” her voice trailed off.

“it’s just what?” you asked, your hands flying up in exasperation. “i’ve heard from so many people that you’re mean and selfish and that you’ll just break my heart and not look back. but that day that you drove me home i though ‘maybe this is different. maybe she’ll actually let me stick around and be her friend.’ but instead of ghosting me right after we met, you waited until i started having a fucking cru-“ you cut yourself off. now was not the time for love confessions. at least not from your end. “you waited until we became close friends and then decided to ditch me!”

your chest was heaving and your hands were shaking. you didn��t know if you wanted to yell at her more or slap her or kiss her until you couldn’t breath.

“y/n but we’re not close friends! you don’t know anything about me!”

you were taken aback. ‘you don’t know anything about me’? how little had the two months meant to her?

“abby, i know everything about you. your favorite color is green but not lime green, forest green. your favorite food is a grilled cheese but only when i make it. you don’t want to be a professional wrestler because you don’t want to have to be rougher than you already are. you hate cold weather and phone calls, you prefer facetime. i could go on and on about all the stupid little facts i know about you! saying i don’t know anything about you is not only just not true, it fucking hurts.”

abby was just standing there. she didn’t know what to say. obviously, you knew so much about her. she knew that even before you started listing things. she knew that you saw her in a way that nobody else ever had. and that fact scared her to the point where she could barely function.

“y/n, it’s just…” what the fuck do i say? “i just can’t be around you.”

you looked like she just ripped your heart out and stepped on it. the tears that were pooling in your eyes were now flowing freely down your cheeks. your voice was barely above a whisper when you asked, "why not?"

"because… you're you! you make me nervous! you're so pretty and smart and just so fucking nice to me and i can't be friends with you. i love you so much it fucking hurts. but," abby's eyes filled with tears. she wanted to be close to you so bad it was physically painful. she could cut the tension between the two of you with a knife. "i don't know how to love someone like you, y/n."

you just stared at her. lip quivering, biting back a sob. whatever you were expecting her to say, it wasn't that.

"i'm sorry, y/n."

you turned your head. you hated that you were letting her see you like this. you were embarrassed and hurt and you didn't really know what to say to her.

"ok."

abby raised her eyebrow, her mouth falling open. "ok?"

you nodded, wiping the tears that were rolling down your cheeks. "yup. if that's what you want, i'll leave you alone." you grabbed your phone off of her kitchen counter and started walking towards her door.

abby all but lept to catch up to you, grabbing your wrist. "what? what are you doing?" she was confused. as much as she hates to say it, she expected you to beg. to wear her down so much that she unlearned the way her brain had been wired.

"i'm leaving, abby. you said you can't be around me and honestly i don't want to be around you either right now," you pulled your hand from her grasp. "i have never been more embarrassed and ashamed-"

"no y/n don't be-"

"do not interrupt me. i am not going to be the girl who comes to your apartment to grovel and beg for you to love her. if you change your mind, or get over," you gestured towards her, "whatever this is, you know where to find me. you can grovel. because i'm not doing this with you."

you opened her door and walked out, turning around to face her one more time. "i love you. so fucking much. but i can't be around someone who refuses to learn how to love me."

you stood there for a moment, expecting her to say something. but she didnt . she just stared.

you noded once and walked away. leaving abby and her broken heart standing there on her doormat.

288 notes · View notes

conchoronzon · 23 days ago

Note

h-hello? This is ******** and i need help, i-i am a pred, and I’m finding that out just now, my friend ****** and i were fooling around in my bedroom, like, we’re both pretty muscular hunks, and always like to pretend that we’re gay for each other, j-JUST pretend aright!? It’s not like we actually had a thing for each other or anything! (At least i know i didn’t…maybe…)

a-anyway! We were gaying around, worshiping each other’s bodies, but as he was rubbing my biceps and kissing my pecs, i got so horny i embraced him in a tight hug, and next thing i know, a big sweaty *SCHLUMP* echoed across the room and i felt a pleasurable burn like i never felt before, but then i-i look down and my friend’s head has disappeared!! W-well not disappeared, it got SUCKED! BETWEEN MY PECS!!

We were so confused and scared and HORNY for some reason, like, my friend kept sinking between my pecs and each inch that went in there felt as good as my dick getting sucked, but, i-i don’t know what to do, it’s been almost an hour and now only his feet are left hanging from my chest! P-please tell me how to get him out, i’ve already called some of my other friends and they’re on their way here but i don’t know how they’ll react, i can feel my friend squirming and his muffled shouts of desperation, i don’t wanna lose him forever in my chest!! Please HELP ME!!

Hey man. Chill out a bit. It'll be okay.

You're what's known as a pred. Eating guys is what you were made for. So what's happening? Well, your pecs are eating him. And when your friends get there and they try to pull him out, your chest isn't going to like that much. Your friend group is about to get a lot smaller. Sorry.

But hey, it'll be fine. You're got a few options here.

Download an app called Gurglr. It's an app only for pred guys (though prey are allowed to submit "eat me" ads). Order some emergency Reformerator. When it gets there, take two pills for every guy who ends up inside you. If you eat anyone else and only take two, well... It'll be sort of random which guy is going to reform tomorrow. The rest? Well, they won't be doing much of anything seeing as they'll be muscles, fat, sweat, hair, and an ungodly amount of... well, whatever they become. We'll get to it. Don't worry.

Take a muscle relaxer and some antacids. Let your friends try to pull him out. If the muscle relaxer doesn't work, you might need someone to massage oil or lube on your pecs. They might end up getting swallowed a bit too though. Or! You could try getting a bit high. That's been known to help preds regurgitate their prey before. But it also has a chance of making you super hungry. You'll end up eating all of them, and this time it might not just be with your pecs

Accept what you are. Accept what he is. You're a pred. He's food. Sure, he's your friend. Sex friend. Boyfriend? Either way, a good friend knows they shouldn't let their pred mates go hungry. Feeding you is what he should do, what he's meant to do. Shove him the rest of the way in and start digesting him before your friends get there. Your chest is going to look amazing. Then just figure out if you're going to digest the rest of them, too.

The guys on Gurglr probably know more about it, but if you really want to, you can *keep* him. What's that mean? Well, he's still your food. You're still going to churn him up and use his body for mass and fuel. But he won't die, not in a true sense. His consciousness will live inside you. Some preds who do this keep the consciousness wherever the guys went - so in your case, you'd have sentient pecs. Others keep 'em in their head. You'd basically be sharing a body with him. It would take some getting used to, but...

So, if you're trying to reform them, you might be curious about how that'll happen. Well, bad news for your friend: you're keeping some of him. He'll be a bit skinnier or a bit shorter. But that's better than being shit, right? 'Cept he might be shit. See, reforming works one of three ways depending on the luck of the genetic draw. Rarest first: the prey just reforms in their bed like a respawn point in a game. A bit more common: they reform *inside you*. You'll have to keep taking those pills until you figure out how to get him out. Thankfully they don't really have any side effects except upping your libido. Finally, the most common way prey reform: you're going to have to let what's left of him out. Can't tell you what you'll turn him into. Could be sweat, breast milk, shit, piss, or cum. You'll make a lot of whatever it is. Give it a few hours, and he'll be himself again. He'll probably want a shower.

Best of luck with whatever you choose to do.

#gay vore #male vore #asks #pec vore

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silentglassbreak · 11 months ago

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The plot with Jolly at the fest sound like very interesting story. I'd love to read it

I didn't get too much detail on this one, so I'm just going to run with it? First time writing for Jolly, so let's give it a shot.

**After writing notes: WOW this one went in an entirely different direction than I expected...

It just happened. I hope someone enjoys it. LOL.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Soft smut, mentions of death

Sweater Weather

Why does no one ever have the balls to tell Noah he’s being a diva?

Listen, the man is my brother. We’re family. För alltid mitt blod. I would take a bullet for him, and I have no doubt he would do the same for me.

But, sometimes, he’s so fucking irritating.

How hard it must be to have such talent and be so attractive, everyone loves you, and you work hard to maintain an image. However, taking out the stress and pressures on the only guys who also know how being in this band feels?

Noah was arguing with one of the stage techs, telling him that the image they had prepared to be behind us doing our set was wrong. He’s right, they had prepared the image of the mannequins, when it was supposed to be the album cover, but that wasn’t this poor little man’s fault.

“God, it’s not a hard fucking thing to do!”

“I’m sorry, dude. I’m putting in the request to have it switched.” The man wasn’t exactly cowering, but he was intimidated for sure.

I stepped up behind Noah, letting a gentle hand fall on his shoulder. I could feel his muscles relax slightly under my fingers.

“C’mon man. It’ll be fine. We have an hour until our set. They’ll get it fixed.”

I felt him take a deep breath, and saw how he closed his eyes to center himself. This was something I taught him.

The tech scurried away, leaving us alone in our tent.

It was so fucking hot, which was interesting, given we were in Michigan. Upheaval festival was one of my favorites. It was a smaller event, which meant a more regular experience with the fans. Usually, it also meant better food and beer vendors.

“Hey, guess what I found?” Nick came bounding into the tent, a large mug in his hand.

“Beer, I assume?” Noah pointed his attitude at Nick, who rolled his eyes in return.

“They have a beer garden! Jolly, they’ve got a Swedish ale you might dig!”

I snorted. “Guarantee it isn’t actually Swedish.” Grabbing my hat from the couch, I placed it over my long hair that was pulled back in a low ponytail, and headed for the exit.

“I will go check it out though. Folio out there?”

Nick nodded. “He was spotted, so he’s chatting with some fans.”

I smirked. “Let’s hope he can get out before the set.”

Noah turned and looked at me. “Don’t be late getting back, please! We go on in under an hour.”

Shooting him a thumbs up, I headed for the mayhem of the festival.

As suspected, there was nothing Swedish about the beer, but it did have good flavor. I stood to the right of the beer garden, sipping my mug, and people watched.

It was always so fascinating to see the mix of people who came to these shows. European festivals were one thing but American festivals? You saw everything from multi-colored hair to breasts only barely covered by mesh tops or pasties. It was a sight to behold.

After a moment of zoning out, I looked down at my watch to see I still had twenty minutes before we had to head to the stage. Noah was likely bursting because I wasn’t back yet, and I smiled to myself at the thought. He could sweat for a few minutes, would do him good.

Deciding I should at least start making my way back there, my eyes scanned for the direction I needed to go, somehow getting turned around. Eyes searching over heads and bodies, I didn’t even see the person coming toward me, knocking my shoulder directly into them as I began walking forward.

My beer sloshed over the edge of the cup, pouring foam down the girl’s arm.

“Fuck! I am so sorry!” I turned, and my eyes locked onto the face in front of me.

Wisps of natural, dirty blonde hair floated in the slight breeze, framing a tan, small face. The rest of her hair was pulled up on top of her head in a bun, tightly secured. Her eyes were lightly lined with black, mascara clinging to her lashes. Pink, full lips covered by only a thin gloss were hanging open, startled by the cold liquid on her shoulder.

“Shit! I didn’t even see you, I’m so sorry!” She apologized, wiping her arm with the sweater tied around her waist. Her white tank top was now an amber color on one side.

I couldn’t speak. She was gorgeous.

“Jesus, I’m such a fucking klutz.” She groaned, hastily grabbing napkins off of the cart behind us and wiping at her arm, and then at my hand.

When her ice blue eyes looked up at me, I felt the air rush back into my lungs.

“No, no that was my fault. I’m very sorry.”

When the realization crossed her face, I saw it like a firework exploding behind her vision.

“You’re Jolly fucking Karlsson!”

This made me chuckle. “Something like that, yeah.”

I reached a hand out, which she took graciously, smiling at me with a wide, toothy grin.

“It’s such an honor. I’m a huge fan. I was actually rushing so I could get back to see your set!”

Her words snapped me back.

Fuck.

“Oh, good! I’ve got to get over there! But, uh,” My brain was working overtime. “maybe I can find you after? You can buy me another beer?”

I let any suave I had take over, which seemed to work decently, given she blinked multiple times.

“Sure, of course!”

“Jolly!” My head snapped over to see Matt barreling toward me. “Dude we go on in ten minutes!”

Looking back, I watched as her face fell slightly, my arm now being physically pulled in the opposite direction. Being led away, I hollered.

“I’ll meet you back here!”

I was only given a nod, and a wave in response.

The set was electric, Noah's earlier nerves rolling off of him comfortably as he put on a show. Nick was absolutely flawless on his bass, flipping his hair over and over. Folio, as usual, lost himself in the drum beats, freestyling here and there.

I, however, was way off my game. Something about my encounter with the mesmerizing blonde earlier kept me thoroughly distracted. Over and over, my eyes swam through the sea of people in the crowd, trying my hardest to find a blonde messy bun and steel blue eyes, but it was in vain. I couldn't see anything.

I thought about her again and again, unable to shake the feeling of wonder from my bones. For whatever reason, I needed to see this girl again. Her aura, her energy, it radiated beauty, rarity, like a gemstone.

Pärla. A magnificent treasure.

The thoughts racing in my brain made me lose my focus more than once. During Nowhere to Go, I missed several notes, my guitar making an awful screeching sound. I forgot to sing backup vocals during Limits entirely, earning me a glare from Noah, and a look of concern from Nick.

I had ignored it, and continued on, my eyes still searching. It was hopeless. I would find her after. I had to.

Once Dethrone concluded, and I ran off stage, setting my guitar down, I felt a hand pull my arm, flinging my backward.

"Dude, are you okay?" Nick looked straight at me. "You drunk?"

I furrowed my brow. "Of course not."

"Well, you don't really fuck up on stage, Jolly, so what the fuck?" Noah was standing directly behind Nick, eyes shooting me down with fury.

I shrugged. "I'm sorry. I was looking for someone."

This made them both leer backward a moment. "Who?" Noah asked.

"This girl. I met her at the beer garden."

They reacted equally differently. Nick let up a sly smirk, his eyebrows raising. Noah, however, narrowed his eyes.

"You almost blew the set for some broad?"

Rolling my eyes, I turned toward them. "I didn't blow the fucking set, Noah. Quit being so dramatic."

I could see the fire burning behind his irises, which I would definitely pay for later in the form of his attitude.

"Are you fucking kidding, dude?" Noah began scolding me, but Nick held up a hand.

"Chill. Jolly never fucks up, ever." He turned to Noah, giving him stern eyes. "And the set was fine."

Huffing, Noah stomped away, throwing a tantrum like a child.

I smiled at Nick, grateful. "You know how he gets at festivals."

Nodding, I began to walk away. "Got to go."

Waving him off, I weaved through all of the people behind the stage area, making my way back out to our tent, where Davis and Matt were already packing up equipment. I grabbed a clean shirt out of my backpack, and slipped it over my head. I pulled half of my hair up in a tight bun on top of my head, and slipped on my sunglasses.

Headed back out, I noticed the sun was nearly set, and the beer garden area was almost vacant, most people over by the stages. Sleep Token had just started, so the vendors were long abandoned by almost everyone.

I found the napkin cart, and stood, arms crossed, scanning around. After about ten minutes, I had to remove my sunglasses to be able to see clearly as night was falling. A chill ran up my spine as the temperature began to drop. No sign of her, but I didn't mind waiting.

Thirty minutes.

Forty-five.

One hour.

I stood, eyes glancing around, head bobbing to Sleep Token's heavy bass and Vessel's incredible vocals. However, my mind was elsewhere. Maybe she didn't want to miss their set? Maybe she forgot where to meet? I didn't know how to find her.

I didn't even know her name.

It was a mystery, and I couldn't get it out of my head. I was going to have to give up soon. The festival would be ending, and I would have to get back with the guys, head back to the hotel. The thought made my stomach sink. Why was I so entranced with the idea of this girl? All she did was spill beer on me. Why did I insist on finding her?

"Jolly?"

I spun, much faster than I should've, on my heel, and was met with cold, freezing blue eyes, staring up at me. Her gloss was worn off, and her eyeliner was smudging ever so slightly under her eyes. Her bun was long gone, blonde hair now free-flowing down across her shoulders.

"Pärla."

Her smile was confused. "Uh,"

"It means gem. I didn't know your name, so I decided to go with that."

The blush on her cheeks was a sweet addition to that gorgeous sun kissed skin.

"I like that." She rubbed her palms on the front of her jeans. I noticed her sweater was now around her shoulders, covering the beer stain on her tank top. "I'm sorry, I know we said we'd meet after your set. I had to get one of my friends back to our hotel."

Shaking my head, I waved her off. "No worries."

"Did you wait long?"

An hour wasn't a long time, I don't think.

"Nope."

With a finger pointed at the beer garden, she asked, "So, you want that beer?"

I perused this. I wasn't much for a drink right now, comfortable with just talking to her. "You going to have one?"

Shrugging, she looked over toward the crowd. "I don't think so. I've got to get back to the hotel with my friends soon. One of them is really drunk, and is a sick mess."

My face soured. "That doesn't sound fun."

Scrunching her face, she stuck her hands in the pocket of her sweater. "It isn't. I'm pretty annoyed about it, actually."

Nodding, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I had been ignoring it for a while.

Matt: Dude, if you're coming with us, we gotta go now.

I typed a quick response.

Me: Meet you back at the hotel.

We walked around the festival grounds for a while, just chatting about different things, somehow managing to distract her from the fact that she should go back to her hotel, and I, mine.

"You're from Florida?"

She nodded. "Daytona. I hate it."

"Why? Isn't it sunny and beautiful all year-round?" I chuckled.

She joined me. "Sure, if you like a lot of drugs and alligators everywhere."

We found some benches, having a seat. I pulled a pack of smokes from my pocket, lighting one.

She stared at me, smirking. I lifted the pack toward her. "Want one?"

She shook her head. "I'm okay. Thanks, though."

Blowing out the smoke, I turned my attention back to her face.

"So why come to Michigan for a festival?"

Her eyes were lost on the crowd, amused. "Why not?" She leaned back on her seat. "I love the adventure of traveling. Seeing different cities. If I get to enjoy good music while I'm at it, why not?"

"You get to meet a lot of cool people doing it, huh?"

Looking over to me, I saw her lips turn up slightly. "Yeah, I do."

A cool silence fell over us for a moment while I finished my cigarette.

Out of my peripheral vision, I saw her head turn toward me. "It's closing."

We noticed the bodies moving past us toward the exit. I nodded. "We should get going soon."

I swore I saw a flash of disappointment cross her features, but only for a second before a look of excitement crept across her face.

"Hey, you want to go somewhere?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Where?"

Smirking, she stood, pulling at my arm. "I know a place, c'mon."

With no time to protest, she pulled me, and I had to nearly jog to keep up. I watched her hair, looking nearly silver against the bright lights at the parking area, fly behind her as she ran toward the Uber line.

We waited, and I slipped my sunglasses back on, and tried not to be obvious.

Once our turn came, she leaned forward to give the driver the address, quiet enough so I wouldn't hear. The driver raised a brow.

"I'm pretty sure it's closed for the night."

She waved at him. "Just go. It'll be fine."

With a nod, he began driving. I stared at her. "Are you taking me somewhere to kill me?"

Her teeth flashed. "You'll have to wait and find out." And she turned to look out at the darkness beyond her window.

Something inside me wasn't worried.

We walked along the boardwalk, out onto the sand. We could hear the soft waves crashing, but it was difficult to see beyond she shoreline.

"Welcome to Lake Michigan!"

The stars, bright and vast, seemed to bounce off of the stillness of the water. It was breathtaking. She bound ahead of me, slipping her shoes off and holding them. Her eyes were fixed on the water, before she dropped down in the sand, looking up at the sky.

I followed suit, taking a heavy seat next to her. It was so quiet, so calm. We weren't supposed to be here at midnight, but something in the chilled air felt so serene.

"What did you call me before?" Her voice was even, still looking at the sky.

"Hm?" I had to shake out of my thoughts.

"At the festival. You called me a name. In another language."

I smiled. "Pärla." She looked back at me. "It means gem."

A warm grin spread across her lips. "I like that." She echoed her earlier sentiment.

It occurred to me at that point, that she still had not told me her first name.

"What else do I call you?"

Her eyes narrowed, thinking. What was there to think about?

"I think that'll do."

I raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Her gaze turned back up to the sky. "Pärla. That's good."

"You're not going to tell me your name?" Confusion laced my voice.

Hugging her knees to her chest, her eyes transfixed on the stars, she bit her lip. "Not yet."

It was strange, but what could I do?

Silence fell over us again, but she eventually spoke up.

"Do you ever miss Sweden?"

Clearing my throat, I mimicked her body language, pulling my knees up.

"Sometimes. It's my home."

Her lips were pulled in a tight line, and I saw what looked to be a tear brimming at her eyes. "I never miss mine. I'm never going back."

"Why not?"

Turning to look at me, a slow tear rolled down her cheek, but she held a sad smile. "I'm happy right where I am."

Trying to process what she said, I struggled, because all I could feel was the urge to grab the tear with my finger, and wipe it from her face. I kept my hands to myself, however.

"So," I tried to lighten the conversation. "how long have you been a fan?"

This made a genuine grin crack across her face. "About a year. I heard you guys for the first time on TikTok. When I looked into the music, I was hooked."

I nodded, listening to the smooth sounds of the waves. "Yeah, that's how a lot of people found us."

"It's good music. I really enjoyed the new album."

"Yeah, it was fun to make."

She looked directly at me. "Do you like being in a band? What's it like?"

That made me huff out a laugh. "It's something else, that's for sure. Chaotic, at times. Rewarding, most others."

Amused, she crossed her legs under her and turned her body to face me. "What are the other guys like?" I raised a brow and she smiled sheepishly. "I'm not trying to fangirl, just curious."

Shaking my head, I turned to face her as well. "Nick is awesome. Mediator when things get tense. He tends to keep a cool head easier than the rest of us." I sighed. "Folio is...young. He's so lighthearted, and full of life. I envy that sometimes." She smiled at that.

"And Noah is..." I trailed off, choosing my words carefully. "Brilliant, but can be a lot sometimes."

"Like how?"

"Like," I intertwined my fingers. "he gets anxious. He's a perfectionist, so there's never room for error. It can be a pain in the ass, but we owe a lot of our success to it."

She nodded. "He's talented."

"Very. So, we put up with it, mostly."

Peering up at me from under her lashes, she spoke low. "And what about you, Jolly? What are you like?"

This gave me pause. How do I answer that?

"I'm..." I really had to think about that answer. "I don't know, really. I'm just, me? The guys call me the 'Dad' of the group, but I'm really only a few years older than Nick."

A hand slid over my knee, and I glanced down at it. "Well, I don't know you very well. Only from what time we've spent the last few hours, but I think you're very interesting."

Resting my chin on a fist, I considered her words. "Do you?"

"Yeah, I do. I think you're very sweet. And complex."

"Complex?"

She let out a giggle, which broke the quiet air with a sweet sound.

"Well, you got in an Uber with a complete stranger, without knowing where you're going, and now you're sitting on a beach in the middle of the night."

This made me smirk. "Point taken."

"That's shows adventure. I like it."

I focused on the ring piercing her left nostril, and the small batch of freckles on her nose. Her hair was hanging long, the moonlight illuminating it.

I felt the pull, the same one that brings the planets together. The pull that gravity is made of. Her eyes flashed back and forth between mine, and her lips parted so slightly. Instinctively, I leaned close to her until I could feel her breath against my face. It was cool, almost cold.

When the soft skin of her lips touched mine, she took a breath in, gasping.

My hand lifted to press against her cheek, pulling her closer, and pressing our lips together.

Like a lightning bolt struck the sand between us, we were lit up with energy. Her body lunged toward me, knees climbing up into my lap as she kissed me, tongue pressing into my mouth. My hands wrapped around to her back, pulling her into me, as she writhed against me.

Her hips pressed down, jeans grinding against mine, the lack of friction making it nearly unbearable. My lips kissed down to her neck, sucking and biting at the soft skin. Her hair had fallen over her face, eyes fluttered closed. Her fingers were grazing down my chest, pulling at the fabric of my t-shirt, and eventually landing to the button of my jeans.

My own hands located the access point of her pants, popping them open. Disconnecting for a moment, she pulled back to shimmy out of her jeans, leaving her in a pair of black panties, kneeling in the sand in front of me.

Staring directly into my eyes, she reached to my jeans and opened them effortlessly, unzipping them, my aching cock bulging against the fabric of my boxers. Her hand slipped to the waistband, freeing my erection. I stared at her with intent. Something in her eyes was dark, something I couldn't place.

"Do you want to?" Her voice was so small. So desperate.

I couldn't respond, so I only reached for her, pulling her face back to me. I laid her down on her back, leaning over her and letting my mouth mold over hers, one hand slipping down her stomach, to her core.

My fingers easily grazed past the elastic of the underwear, running through the soft patch of curls just underneath, until I felt the moisture of her lips between my fingers.

She moaned into my mouth as I slipped my middle finger inside of her, curling it to press against that soft, sweet spot that had her breathing erratic.

"Fuck." She breathed against my mouth. My hand was pumping her hard, a delicious wet sound nearly drowned out by the waves behind us.

"I don't have a condom on me, Pärla."

Her eyes snapped open, and she smiled. "I'm okay, if you are."

Morals? Rational thought? Responsibility? What is that?

I was okay. More than okay. This could be bad. Dangerous, even. Something in my gut - no - my soul told me that this needed to happen, and it needed to happen now.

Steady fingers pulled her panties down, slipping them off, before I hovered over her, lining the head up with her entrance.

As slow and precise as possible, I pressed in, my eyes falling closed with the vibrant sensation that engulfed me. She let out a long, deep groan with me.

"Oh God, Jolly."

I let my lips fall back down to the flesh on her neck, thrusting in and out comfortably, savoring the feel of her on my skin.

We went on like this for longer than I would've expected. Our voices echoed off of the water, the darkness swallowing us as our bodies synchronized. Her pussy tightened around me each time I pulled out, begging for more.

Eventually, I sped up the snapping of my hips, leaning up to get a better angle, pulling her knee up to her chest.

Her hands dug into the sand around us, head careened backward.

"Oh Jolly, fuck, so fucking good." She was biting down on her lip so hard, it was sure to bleed.

I was so close. I needed her release. "Come for me, Pärla." My breathing began stuttering. "Let go, for me."

A long, visceral moan left her lips, and I felt her walls spasm around me as I began emptying into her, my orgasm smacking me hard in the chest.

I pumped us through it, one hand holding her face, watching the waves of pleasure rush over it.

Once we slowed to a stop, I collapsed next to her, a lazy smile on my face.

"That was..." I started, too tired to finish my sentence.

"Unreal." Her words were stark. Matter of fact. Her eyes were looking back up at the stars.

I followed suit, zipping my jeans back up.

"I'm glad I met you today, Jolly."

I let my eyes fall on her again, and smiled. "Me too, Pärla."

My eyes opened to a flashlight shining directly on them.

"Hey, asshole!" I squinted, my hands coming up to shield my vision from the abrasive light. "You can't fucking sleep here. Go find a fucking shelter!"

"What?" I sat up, looking up at the person in front of me. A police officer.

"You've got to get out of here, man. I don't want to take you in."

I held my hands up in defense, standing to my feet. My eyes glanced around, realizing I was very much alone.

"Where's the girl I was with?"

The cop raised an eyebrow. "No one but you here, bud. Let's go."

His hand grabbed my arm, leading me off the beach. I turned back toward the water, hollering out into the darkness.

"Pärla?!"

No response. Just silence.

A week had gone by, and I was back home.

I had done everything I could think of to find her, but still came up with nothing. No name. No number. Just a physical description and vague location. Have you any idea how many blonde-haired, blue-eyed, tan-skinned girls are in Daytona, FL? It was comical.

After about four days, I had pretty much given up. Part of me felt hurt. Why had she left? Was she okay? She knew me, why hadn't she reached out?

Was she just in it for the sex? Or to say she screwed a member of the band? Did she regret it?

Something felt wrong. Her presence, her energy. It felt so genuine. I struggled to believe she really just ran off, leaving me to fall asleep alone on that beach.

I had Ubered back to the hotel, heading straight to Noah's room to tell him what happened. It was 4AM by the time I made it back, and he looked at me like I was insane.

Still, he showed his human side for a moment, and empathized with me, offering to help try and find her.

Back in Los Angeles, I was sitting in the studio, trying to perfect a guitar rift, when Noah bounded in with Folio. We had everyone together for the next two weeks before we left for the next festival.

"I don't get why people are so scummy."

I raised an eyebrow at Folio's words. "What's that?"

He turned to look at me, falling into a chair. "This article, man. About Upheaval?"

I stopped my strumming, looking up to give him my full attention.

I took note that Noah was scrolling on his phone fervently.

"What about it?"

Noah looked up at me, pursing his lips. "I guess someone got really hurt?"

"Not hurt. Someone fucking died, dude."

This made me furrow my brows. "What?"

"Yeah. Some girl got trampled in the fucking crowd."

Noah rolled his eyes. "The article I read said she had a seizure, and fell into the crowd. They didn't get her out in time."

"During which set?"

"Sleep Token." Noah responded.

"Wow, really? I saw damn near the entire thing. I didn't see anything happen."

"Well, that's the point, man. No one did, until the end. By that time, she had choked or something." Noah handed his phone to me, and I noticed it was scrolled to the bottom of the article.

"It's bullshit they waited so long to say something." Folio chimed in.

Noah shrugged. "Trying to protect the festival's reputation, I guess. Too bad. She was fucking cute, too."

My thumb scrolled to the top of the article, taking a moment as it was long.

When the picture at the top came into view, my hand that held my rig went slack, dropping the instrument on the floor.

It didn't make sense. It was a mistake of some kind.

25 Year Old Female Dies At Music Festival - Safety Protocols Being Investigated

The photograph that stared back at me, mocking my dropped jaw and widened eyes.

"Jolly, you good, dude?" Folio asked as he reached down to grab my guitar, now on the floor.

I couldn't respond. My blood had coagulated in my veins. My skin hardened to stone as my eyes stared at the picture, mind blanking.

The girl in the picture stared into my very soul.

Dirty blonde hair. Ice blue eyes. Small patch of freckles. Plush pink lips.

Pärla.

#jolly karlsson #jolly karlsson fic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens #fanfic #bad omens cult

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grilleddexmix · 5 months ago

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can we get some hurt/comfort hcs for werewolf gb? like dinah taking care of her before and after the full moon?

Anon, this is what I’m living for. I love this so, so much. Just Dinah getting to take care of her werewolf gf and makin sure she’s comfy but also giving her body what it needs.

* Greaseball tries telling Dinah she’s fine, she doesn’t need her help. She’s been a werewolf for years. She knows how to prepare for her transformations. (No she doesn’t, she just ignores her needs until after the transformation).

* Dinah shows up to Greaseball’s house anyway. She’s got bags of groceries and a duffle bag of her own clothes, intending on staying the week despite Greaseball’s protests.

* When Greaseball’s hair starts going wild, she does everything to try and stop it but nothing works. She hates how floofy her mullets gets but Dinah adores it. She’s always loved Greaseball’s hair but now she just wants to run her hands through it and play with it.

* Greaseball’s appetite gets worse but Gb doesn’t do anything about. They’ll be sitting on the couch after lunch, Greaseball in a sour mood because she’s STILL hungry but she doesn’t want to give in to her wolfish tendencies. Dinah notices but doesn’t think anything of it.

* That night though, Dinah wakes up to Greaseball’s spot on the bed empty. When she walks into the kitchen, her heart breaks. Greaseball is laid on the floor, cradling her stomach after raiding the fridge and making a mess of the kitchen. Her whimpers and whines sound so dog like, Dinah can’t help but find it a little bit cute. Dinah helps Greasy to bed and cleans up.

* From then on, Dinah makes Greaseball eat until she’s satisfied. She doesn’t care how much she has to cook, she will not let Gb let herself go hungry cause her wolfy side is coming out.

* Greaseball struggles with it all because she hates losing control. Its her body and just because she was a werewolf didn’t mean she should let herself fall into letting her animal instincts take over.

* Greaseball’s teeth get achy when her fangs come out. She tries wearing a mask to cover them so Dinah doesn’t get freaked out but Dinah actually LOVES her little fangs. Her ears get a little more pointy and Dinah could spend hours just staring at her girlfriend.

* She starts overheating in bed. The little sleep she did get would be interrupted with waking up in a sweat and having to ditch the covers. Dinah brings some fans in to try and cool her hot (hehe) girlfriend off.

* The day before, when Greaseball wakes up in pain cause her body is prepping to transform, Dinah insists Greaseball stay in bed. She brings everything the Greasy, medicine, food, drinks. Dinah even gives her a massage to try and help ease her muscles.

* When it’s time to transform, Greaseball makes Dinah leave the room. Usually it’s an incredibly painful process that leaves her disoriented and cranky. But this time, she shifts and it’s still uncomfortable and a little painful but…its not nearly as bad. It’s actually tolerable by Greaseball’s standards.

* After transformations are usually spent in bed, building her energy back. Dinah stays with her snd cuddles her, letting her sleep and only waking her to eat something.

* The next full moon, Greaseball isn’t so anxious about it. That fear is never gone as there was always a risk but suddenly being a werewolf wasn’t so hard on her body.

—

I have so many ideas for oneshots and stories its not even funny

#dinah the dining car #starlight express #stex london 2024 #starlight express london 2024 #werewolf!greaseball

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footprintsinthesxnd · 1 year ago

Text

The Good Die Young

Masterlist

Warnings: mentions of graphic themes, war, injury, weapons, sexual images, language, 18+, swearing, major character death. Pairings: Jake Seresin × f!reader. Disclaimer: This is a series reflecting on the true events of the US Marines in WW2. All of the characters are fictional and not based off are original characters (except for Jake Seresin) and they are not representations of the real, brave men who fought in WW2. I have tried to make all the events in this series as accurate as possible but please bare in mind this is fanfiction and i have added/ changed certain things to fit with this.

Pavuvu May 1944

“You’re okay George. You’re gonna be just fine,” Jake promised, pulling the blanket over George’s shivering body. Sweat trickled down his forehead, his teeth chattering like a train on its tracks.

“You okay, Georgie?” Edward asked as he lay across his cot, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth as the medic cleaned another sore on his back.

“Never better,” George whispered hoarsely, staring out from beneath the mountain of blankets, that despite the humid weather we’re doing nothing to bring him any warmth.

“You boys really need to go to the hospital. I’m going to try and pull a few strings, and get you to the hospital at Banika. I’m going to pull some paper and get you boys of this godforsaken place. You game?” The medic asked, looking at the two men in question.

“Hell yeah,” George and Edward replied and Jake smiled at the thought, at least two of his three remaining friends would be safe away from this hell hole.

“Sounds like a great plan. Thanks, Doc.” Jake followed the medic out of the tent. “How long do you think they’ll be gone for?”

“As long as they need to be. They need to rest, as do we all.”

“Well, there’s not a lot of chance of that around here, hey Doc?” Jake laughed and the medic nodded. After all, a good, deep sleep is a valuable commodity that was hard to come by in this place; both of them were well aware that the next battle wouldn’t be far off.

“What are you going to do without us around?” George chuckled, giving Jake his hand to shake. Jake took it instantly, shaking it as if it might be the last time he would see him. He hoped it wouldn’t be, he desperately wanted his friends to return but he also wanted them as far away from the war as possible, where they would be safe.

“Well, I’ll have Frank to keep me out of trouble. Don’t worry about me, okay? You just concentrate on getting better.” Jake felt a pang of sadness as he watched his two friends leave, with Edward pushing George in his wheelchair up the ramp of the troop ship. Jake never really felt alone, even when he was home sick and now he felt as though he was losing his family all over again.

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

Pavuvu June 1944

Dear Jake,

I’m not sure when this letter will reach you but your son was born 18th May at quarter to midnight. He is a little bundle of joy and he has your eyes. I can’t wait for you to meet him, Jake. I’ve enclosed a picture so you can keep him close to your heart. I have called him Jacob. It is only fitting that he has his fathers name.

News of the war is worse than ever. There was a large attack on Europe named D-Day on 6th June. I fear the war is far from won and fighting in North Africa continues still too. I am pleased to be away from work for a while. The never ending stream of bad news is almost too much to bear. At least for now I can pretend everything is okay, that everyone is safe. I wish you were here to enjoy this peace with me.

Thinking of you always

Your Y/n

Jake smiled fondly, running his dirt-engrained fingers over the picture of his son. His son. He couldn’t quite believe that he was a father, that someone like him could make something so perfect and untainted by the world. How could something do pure come from this horrendous year? Jake knew he had to keep fighting not only for Y/n now but for little Jacob too.

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

“Well look at this. Fresh meat.” Frank pointed towards the group of fresh, baby-faced Marines as they walked up the beach in full pack.

“Jesus, are they ever old enough to drink? They’re just kids for Christ's Sake,” Jake groaned, throwing his book onto his cot. Each time recruits were sent to the front they seemed to get younger, just boys who within a few days would be homesick and crying out for their mothers as they bled out on some battlefield no one had ever heard of, in a place no one had ever visited.

“Is this How Company?” One of the baby Marines asked. He looked petrified and as Jake studied his face he noticed that the boy had probably never shaved.

“Who wants to know?” Frank asked, leaning against the supporting pole of the hut , puffing smoke from his cigarette over the recruit.

“I’m Private Daniel Chase. I’m joining How Company as a Machine Gunner. I meant to be with Sergeant Seresin.”

Jake looked at him dead in the eye. He’d never once considered that he would be sent a replacement for George. He knew that George was still pretty rough in the hospital in Banika but he didn’t think it was enough for them to send a replacement.

“I’m Sergeant Seresin. Put your kit down on that bunk there and then I’ll give you the tour.”

The young Marine did as he was told, clumsily knocking Jake’s belongings off the table, cursing, apologising and then nearly taking Jake out with his Garand.

“Okay kid, put all that shit down. Let’s go.” Frank watched in amusement as the young Marine stumbled after Jake, trying to keep up with his long strides.

Daniel Chase wasn’t a bad kid. He grew up in Louisiana with his parents and two sisters. He was funny and likeable, and Jake quickly warmed to him, taking him under his wing like a younger brother.

That evening the COs had set up a theatre and played ‘For Whom the Bell Tolls’ which mildly settled the normally rowdy Marines, except for the odd passing comment about the actress.

“Is it like this here most nights?” Chase asked, looking up at Jake inquisitively. The poor kid knew nothing of the world, Jake had realised as he gave him a tour of the camp. He didn’t smoke, didn’t drink, always said his prayers before bed and until joining the Marines had never done his own washing before.

“Sometimes. This is just to welcome the new guys, make you think that it’s all sunshine and rainbows until shit really hits the fan.” Jake knew he was only speaking the truth but regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth, the fear on the young boy's face reminded him too much of George when they had first seen battle.

“It’ll be alright, kid. There ain’t nothing to worry about, just stick with me and you’ll be fine.”

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

Peleliu September 1944

The doors for the landing craft to exit the troop ship falling open was the beginning of it all. The bright light poured through the ship's hull as each craft flew out the doors and into the open water.

“HERE WE GO!” Jake shouted to Chase who nodded at him nervously. The poor boy had already been sick twice on Jake’s boots while they were waiting.

Aircraft flew overhead, sending bombs down onto the beach that sounded like freight trains whistling above Jake’s head. A few stray bullets hit the edge of the landing craft causing all the men to duck down. No one wanted to get hit before even reaching the beach. The large 50-caliber guns on the landcraft opened fire, trying to clear a path for the Marines to land.

The noise was deafening and between the gunfire and explosions Jake could hear Daniel let out a small whimper. “I'm scared, Jake,” Chase cried and Jake just looked at him, giving him a small reassuring smile. Well what else was he supposed to do? It wasn’t a good idea to lie to the kid but at the same time telling someone they’re probably going to die wasn’t on the cards either.

“You’re gonna be just fine, Kid. Just stay with me and keep moving.” That was the last time Jake spoke to Chase, but neither of them knew that.

As the landing craft hit the beach the smell of smoke was thick in the air, the doors swung down and groups of Marines began charging up the beach. Sand, tree bark, and bullets flew through the air. The ground was littered with bodies as Jake stumbled forward, cursing and falling into a nearby crater, taking cover from the firing above his head. He’d lost sight of Chase and Frank soon after leaving the landing craft. The scent of engine oil was thick in the air as Jake’s chest heaved from the effort. He turned to see a young Marine fall into the crater beside him, blood trickling down his face, eyes wide and frozen. Jake thought he saw the life leaving the poor boy's eyes, all the memories, the love, and future plans all gone in the blink of an eye and all that was left was a shell of who he had been.

Jake bit back a strangled scream as he pushed himself from the hole, crawling along to the next one and into the tree line where he got to his feet. Raising his Garand, he crouched low, hurrying through the trees. Earth flew up around him, the explosions ringing in his ears as he desperately tried to get his bearings, the high-pitch whistling doing nothing for his sense of direction. The last thing he needed was to be running back towards the beach. The smoke created a thick fog through the air, making it difficult to breathe and causing Jake to splutter, coughing loudly. Through all the shrapnel and gunfire flying around Jake didn’t hear the whistling above his head, the sound of the aircraft flying over, not until the explosion went off right beside him. The blast sent him through the air, his body falling helplessly to the ground.

The ringing noise in his mind was the only thing he recognised as his eyes cracked open, looking upon the grey clouds above him. They seemed to dance across the sky, the smokey smudges against the clear blue were a stark contrast but seemed to bring comfort to him. Jake realised that he rarely saw the sky without clouds of smoke anymore. It was sad really, he had always enjoyed the sunsets in Texas, and he’d often watched them with his mother as a young boy.

“JAKE! JAKE! OH FUCK! Hang on buddy. Just hang on for me.”

“Frank…” Jake whispered, reaching a bloody hand out to his friend who took it immediately.

“It’s okay Jake, I’m here. You’re gonna be alright.”

“Frank…w-where’s Y/n?” Jake asked, trying to sit up but Frank pushed him back down immediately.

“She’s not here right now but I promise as soon as we get you fixed up I'll find her okay? I'll find her you just have to hang on.” Frank’s voice was desperate as he applied pressure to Jake’s wounds.

“I NEED A MEDIC GOD DAMMIT!” Frank screamed but Jake just smiled up at him, shuffling to sit up slightly. Confusion crossed Jake’s face as he tried to move his legs again.

“Frank, I-I…can't f-feel my legs?” Jake looked up at him worried, trying again and again to move his legs but nothing happened. Nothing moved. Frank looked down at him sadly, tears glistening in the edges of his eyes.

“You're gonna be just fine, Jake. We’re gonna get your legs all sorted,” he promised, resisting the urge to look over at Jake’s bloodied legs that lay a few feet from them. “I promise, Jake.”

“Okay, Frank. I…trust y-you.”

Jake didn’t notice the way Frank's chest heaved as he screamed for a medic, he didn’t notice the desperate look on his friend's face and he didn’t notice the large pool of blood that trickled out onto the ground around him. Jake just smiled, his blue eyes looking back up at the sky as more aircraft flew over them. He could see Y/n face now, smiling down at him as she cradled little Jacob close. He reached his right hand out towards her, trying to grip hold of hers.

“Come to me, Jake,” she whispered to him. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Jake? No, no Buddy. You’ve got to stay with me, Jake. Stay with me.” Frank watched in horror as Jake’s eyes slid shut. The blood pumping through his fingers mercilessly as he tried his best to keep pressure on the wounds. A medic rushed in beside Frank, applying bandages to both of Jake’s legs. Frank continued to shout at the medic as he sat back, shaking his head defeatedly at Frank. He didn’t believe him. The medic continued to talk but Frank didn’t hear a word. He couldn’t be the only one left. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Frank felt two strong arms pulling him to stand. The Lieutenants fought him, shouting harshly in his ears to keep moving and shoving a Garand into his bloody hands. The blood congealed around the gun, sticking it to Frank as if Jake himself was urging him to use it. His hands shook violently and despite the Lieutenant's protest he couldn’t help but spare a glance over his shoulder to his friend.

“Goodbye Jake.”

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