#and at the end of the description it says

[frameacloud]

Image description: A screenshot of a social media post by James L. Cook. It says,

"I was watching an interview with Noam Chompsky [sic Noam Chomsky] and he was asked about AI software, specifically ChatGPT and its impact on education. He replied that GhatGPT isn't about learning, it's about avoiding learning.

"And then the light went on.

"Recently I was in a discussion with a peer group about an article written by James Marriot for the Times. He's basically an art school drop out that never spent any real time developing his skill to become an artist. And now he's bitter that he's not successful and that artists with real skill are 'Gatekeepers' to his success.

"To be honest it was a very entitled rant that demonized people who have worked very hard to hone their craft as elitists and prestige squatters. In his article he welcomes AI image generators because he thinks it levels the playing field between his mediocre efforts and those snobby, gatekeeping artists.

"And that's where the connection hit.... (channels Chomsky) AI Image generating isn't about making art. It's about AVOIDING making art. Let the computer do it. I'm too lazy to log the long emotionally wearing hours. I'm too impatient and entitled to listen to masters. I'm too self-absorbed to spend my time laboring over a work that requires me to use sophisticated critical thinking. Let the machine do it.

"AI Image generation isn't about making art. It's about AVOIDING MAKING art."

End description.

[sugxto]

shared frequency - eddie x volt

⋆syn: The morning after the reset, Volt and Eddie have a conversation about your new dynamic.

⋆wc: 2.2k

⋆cw: m/m blowjobs, cum eating/swallowing, another where they’re kinda fantasizing about you while they fuck

⋆notes: takes place the morning after “brutalizer(s)” within power dynamics, but can be read as a standalone “they fucked after the reset” independent one shot. the person eddie and volt are discussing is completely gender neutral. they're referred to as "human," with they/them pronouns, and no descriptions of genitalia or features. e/v masterlist.

⋆snippet:

Eddie has to be sure. “I’d never do anything that could ever mean losing you.”

“You’ll never lose me, Eddie.” Volt’s touch is warm again, and it floods through Eddie’s circuits like a whiskey sour. “I’ve only ever known how to love you.”

Sometime, in the early morning hours, the human had slipped away from Volt and Eddie’s bed, had given them kisses on their cheeks and said they had to go, they had to make sure something had enough charge, but they’d be back soon, they promised.

It was the norm for Volt and Eddie to wake up beside each other, and never, in their years sharing existence, had either of them woken up feeling lonely - until this morning, when the feeling of only one body in his bed makes Eddie feel… off.

He shoves the thought aside, though, when Volt’s lips find his ear, and the ends of his hair spark by his ear.

“Good morning, my darling.”

Eddie fucking loves Volt’s morning voice - but hey, keep that a secret.

He hums as he rolls over, finds Volt already propped up on his elbow, leaning over him. Eddie knows that look in his eyes, that sparkle, and he cocks an eyebrow. “Someone looks happy.”

Volt smiles, runs his fingers along Eddie’s arm. “Well, we had a good night, didn’t we?”

Yeah, Eddie thinks, after Volt almost fucking died.

But instead, he says, “I remember.”

“I told you they wanted us.”

He sighs. Maybe if he closes his eyes again, sleep will come, very very fast. “You did.”

“And wasn’t it exactly what we’d hoped for?” 

The downside of your partner being electricity incarnate, Eddie thinks, is that he’s always switched to on. Which wasn’t always Eddie’s favorite mode in the mornings, especially not after last night.

“It was,” he grumbles.

“We said we loved them.”

“I -” he pauses, because yeah, he can’t deny that. But they had said it first, and it seemed… right, in the moment. “Yeah, fine, we did.”

Volt’s twinkling eyes rake over his face. “Did we mean it?” As he says it, his hand comes to find Eddie’s resting on his chest, and with the touch comes a wave, a surge of indescribable warmth that flows between them, connects them not just through skin, but through their very hearts.  

They’re both quiet for a moment, only breathing together, but they know. They know that when they touch, their emotions become theirs, no longer separate, like they see things through each other’s eyes. 

And this warmth…

They both know what it means. It’s the same certainty they feel when they’re here, in their bed, sharing kisses and touches and breath and thoughts.

And it must be love.

Eddie feels it in Volt’s touch, in the current he shared, but he also knows that he feels it inside himself, that he reciprocates this certainly that Volt is sharing with him. 

They know they don’t have to say anything, their eyes never leaving each other, understanding without words, without complications. But still, Eddie says, with the smallest smile on his lips and voice barely above a whisper, “I guess we did, didn’t we?”

He cups Volt’s face when he leans down to kiss him, and Volt’s hand on his chest climbs up, up, to tangle itself in Eddie’s hair. Eddie welcomes his little breaths, deepening the kiss and pressing his tongue inside his mouth, and it’s like he recharges at the sounds of the moan Volt makes. 

When they part, it’s only enough for Volt to speak, his lips still ghosting over Eddie’s as he does. “Are you alright with that?”

Eddie’s grey eyes search white ones, and he sighs softly. “I… yes. I am. But I just…” he swallows, feels his heart thrum with excitement, contentment, want, “I can’t quite believe it.”

Volt strokes the top of Eddie’s head with his thumb, tugs slightly on his hair, and he pecks another kiss to his lips. “I can’t either, my darling.”

“I didn’t plan it.”

“I know we didn’t.”

He holds Volt’s face a little tighter, and knows his voice gets a little faster. “And this isn’t - fuck, Volt, it’s always been you -”

“And it’s always been you, Eddie -”

“You know it’s - that it’s not because -”

“I do, Eddie,” Volt says, warmly, lovingly, as his hand slips down to Eddie’s cheek. “My darling, you have nothing to worry about. We have nothing to worry about. I know I’m… protective of you.” He says it with a smirk that, in another conversation, may make Eddie roll his eyes. “But I owe you everything, and I am yours, just like you’re mine. And the human doesn’t want you, or me - they want us. Only us, and isn’t that what we’ve always wanted? To not have to be apart?”

He’s right, Eddie thinks, he usually is, the bastard. And it sparks something in Eddie’s heart that feels like he’s at full power, able to conquer anything, and it feels complete. Because he couldn’t, wouldn’t, be away from Volt. He’d let himself deplete and die before he was alone again, and the human… 

They’d seen that. Not only that, but they’d helped ensure that wouldn’t happen. Showed that they would do everything they could to save both of them. 

So how could Volt and Eddie do anything but love them? 

But still, Eddie has to be sure. “I’d never do anything that could ever mean losing you.”

“You’ll never lose me, Eddie.” Volt’s touch is warm again, and it floods through Eddie’s circuits like a whiskey sour. “I’ve only ever known how to love you.”

Grey eyes flick to soft lips, back up to white eyes, and Eddie can only nod, only hold Volt’s buzzing skin tighter in his hands, because he’s never been good at saying it, but everyday, he knows Volt feels it. And in response, Volt kisses him again, sweet, lush kisses that are better than words, and their arms are around each other, chests pressed together. 

Volt’s lips move to Eddie’s jaw, his neck, his shoulder, as Eddie’s hands find his hair, controlling the bolts with practiced touch. Between kisses on Eddie’s skin, Volt says, his smirk audible, “And it makes it easy that they’re a fantastic fuck.”

Eddie groans, and his cock makes a twitch at the memory, how hot, how wet, how needy they’d been. How they felt like they’d been made to fit around their cocks. All the gorgeous, filthy sounds they’d made, because Volt was right, and he needed to hear them again. 

“Next time,” Volt teases, his tongue on his neck, and Eddie gasps when he grinds their hips together, “you have to taste them for yourself. Tell me,” another roll of his hips, another twitch of their cocks, “how was their mouth?”

Eddie tightens his hands on Volt’s hair, relishes the resulting moan, and his voice is raw when he says, “It was fucking perfect.”

He feels Volt’s chuckle in his neck, feels his cock grow against his own. “Mm. Is that so? Am I going to have some competition?”

Eddie turns his head to press his lips close to Volt’s ear, holds him still, waiting, before he responds. “You wanna give me something to compare it to?”

Faster than light, Volt is between his legs, stomach on the bed and firey, bright white eyes staring up at him, excited, hungry.

Eddie settles himself further up the bed, leans against the pillows, props himself on his elbows for the best view, but he breathes out a curse when, without warning, his cock is swallowed up by Volt’s warm, greedy mouth. He nearly loses his balance when he hits the back of his throat, and Volt makes a hum of satisfaction that vibrates around him. 

God, he feels so fucking good, hot and wet and right - like home, like all he’s ever wanted, all he only ever hoped for in the nights he spent alone. 

He feels Volt’s tongue expertly twist around him, follow the veins of his cock like it’s in his nature, and Eddie’s eyes flutter closed when he leans his head back, letting this warmth consume him.

Volt digs his fingers into the flesh of his thighs, and their currents hum together where they touch. His lips wrap around the head before his tongue trails down the shaft, wetting Eddie more with his spit. His breath is hot, electric, when he purrs, “Imagine if they were here too, sitting on your mouth while I took my time with you.”

“Fuck,” Eddie groans, seeing the image so clearly in his mind, reminiscing on the taste of them that he’d found in Volt’s mouth. “You, fuck, baby, just wanna show off for them.”

“Hmm, maybe I do.” Volt wraps his hand around him, strokes him up, down, and kisses the head. “Show them how good I can make you feel.”

Eddie, through heavy lidded eyes, finds Volt’s hair again, wraps it around his fist, and yanks, Volt’s resulting gasp making him smirk. “You wanna be good?”

Volt nods, limited in his movement, sparks dancing in his wide eyes. 

“Then don’t take your fucking mouth off me again.” He bucks his hips up as he pulls Volt’s lips back to his cock, and they open, effortlessly, and Volt takes. 

He takes Eddie entirely, takes his moans, his tight hold on his hair, all the way to the back of his throat, and swallows, and he glows at the sound Eddie makes - guttural and low, dripping with want. He preens at the “good boy, you feel so fucking good, baby” that fall from Eddie’s lips, and he ruts his hips, his aching cock, into the mattress beneath him. 

Through the haze of his pleasure, Eddie notices (he always notices, Volt thinks), and he hums. “Fucks sake, you can’t get enough, can you?” His voice is wry, and it goes straight to Volt’s cock. “My cock in your mouth and still needing more?”

Volt whines around him, his hips bucking into the bed again, because yes, yes, he needed more, and Eddie knows it, knows how it makes him feel when he pulls at his hair again.

“What - fuuck - what did you say, in the office? You want me inside you w- god - while they ride you?” Eddie’s voice is mean, with just enough bite that he knows shorts the circuits in Volt’s brain. “You, you think that’d finally fucking satisfy you?”

Volt’s eyes are pleading as he grinds into the sheets, his mouth working Eddie’s cock so fast, so well, that the resulting sounds are slick, sinful, coupled by the groan of the mattress beneath Volt’s hips. His fingers singe Eddie’s skin from the death grip he’s keeping on his thighs, trying to take as much as he’s physically allowed. 

Eddie’s chuckle is gruff as he adds a second hand to Volt’s hair, holding him still, and he thrusts his hips up into Volt’s hot throat, making his white eyes practically flicker. “I’m not sure it would. You’re so,” he thrusts again, “fucking,” again, “greedy.”

Yes, Volt thinks, able only to moan, to drool as Eddie fucks his mouth, give me everything, everything, Eddie.

“So you’re gonna take, fuck yes, what I give you, yeah? Gonna be good?” Eddie’s voice is hurried now, his breath labored, and Volt just knows he’s close. He hisses through his teeth, says, “Gonna fuck yourself while you take it?”

Volt hums around him, tries to tell him he can, he will, because yes, he’s so greedy, he needs it, wants it, and lets his jaw go as slack as he can while he ruts, hopelessly, into the friction of the sheets. It’s nothing compared to Eddie, any part of him - his mouth, his hands, his hole - but it’s something, and more than anything, he wants to be good for him. 

Eddie’s hips are losing stability, his thrusts erratic into Volt’s mouth, and he groans, tightens his hands around white hair - he’s so close, fuck he feels so good, and he opens his eyes, finds Volt’s gaze, and -

His climax hits him like lightning, a familiar white flash behind his eyes, and he curses through his teeth as his cum fills Volt’s mouth with small twitches from his cock. Volt’s hips are pounding into the bed, chasing exactly what Eddie told him to, and it’s the soft “that’s it, you did so good,” that Eddie whispers as he swallows, that pushes Volt over the edge as well. His hips shake, his cock sensitive, as he feels the slick of his cum pool on the sheets and stick to his stomach.

Ever greedy, ever proud, Volt savors the ache in his jaw when they finally separate, and he makes a show of licking his lips when Eddie finally releases his hair, his heart swelling with love at the resulting eye roll that he knew would come. 

They both sit up, limbs heavy, warm contentment in their veins, when Eddie says, in a tired voice with a curve to his lips, “Maybe having two of us to wear you out will do you good.”

Volt chuckles, and he notices his throat feeling a bit raw as he does it. “Never, darling. I’m always fully charged.”

Eddie huffs, steel eyes hiding a hint of amusement. “Don’t I fucking know it. But, ya know,” he shuffles his weight, comes to sit on his knees in front of Volt, and runs his finger down Volt’s chest until he finds the remnants of his climax stuck to his skin above white coils, meeting Volt’s gaze as he scoops some onto his fingertip, and brings it to his lips, “I think we can be up to the challenge.”

When he takes his finger out of his mouth, Volt’s lips find him, his tongue swiping into Eddie’s, hungry for him, for more, for everything, and they fall back to the ruined sheets, hands and tongues tangled around each other as tight as they can manage.

[richeeduvie]

✪ FIRECRACKER ✪ Jack Abbot x F!Reader

During a chaotic Fourth of July double shift in the Pitt, you watch Jack grapple with a flood of trauma patients whose injuries trigger memories that you both can name, but won't dare say out loud. You quietly try to become the one person who steadies him, even as he tries to deny how much he needs you...but when a simple loud noise is the thing to get Jack's composure to fracture, you simply and quickly pick up the pieces. WORD COUNT: 1.6K || Meant to be read as a part of the lengths, but definitely doesn't have to be. Graphic descriptions of injuries and blood. Jack is suffering from PTSD. You help him. Angst. Comfort. (No military propaganda here, folks.) This is really nothing much but something for a late July 4th! 🎆

✭・.・✫ ✭・.・✫ ✭・.・✫ ✭・.・

AUTHOR MASTERLIST | THE LENGTHS PART ONE | SHIFTING CRASH (15K FIC) | hope u enjoy!

THE LENGTHS (1) DESCRIPTION: Jack meets the new nurse Robbie's been fawning over, only to then take the next couple of nights to pathetically cope with what he's feeling for the peppy, sunny young woman he's just met.

CRASH DESCRIPTION: When Jack catches you out walking to work in 30-degree weather alone in the fucking dark, he has no choice but to realize his feelings for you are far past romantics and hurdling towards possession. That only becomes more apparent when he catches you on Robby's motorcycle after.

✭・.・✫ ✭・.・✫ ✭・.・✫ ✭・.・

Every ten minutes, the red, white, and blue of the Fourth of July weekend blur past the Pitt in twisted forms. Think blood-soaked shirts, scorched skin…fragments of what were once fingers and toes. You learned to ignore the smell of burnt sulfur and flesh when the afternoon came. 

…But you can’t ignore the way he stands at the board mid-shift as he barks updates and eyes new assignments. His voice is sharp and low in the gravel of his throat like always, but it doesn’t hide the way his jaw clenches every time he sees the words “explosive injury” on his pager. 

But no one says it out loud. That’s the first rule. 

No one mentions that Jack Abbot–stoic, sharp-tongued, damn near unflappable Dr. Jack Abbot might have a harder time with this holiday than any other. 

That includes you.

Not even when the fireworks boom outside the Pitt. Not when every other patient comes in with hands blown up and open. Not when he’s worked his third trauma in a row without stepping away. 

...It’s barely noticeable, because he’s Jack Abbot. But he can’t hide from you. Not the beautiful bits, not the ugly ones. Not your beautiful doctor. 

You watch him the way you watch unstable patients, not that you have the idea of telling him that. 

You’re quiet. Steady. You wait for a sign that tells you it’s time to intervene. You’ll let him come to you. 

“Get me a tourniquet. Another tourniquet. Two large-bore IVs. Again. O-negative on standby.”

Jack doesn’t flinch when a new arrival is a teenage boy missing most of his hand. He doesn’t react at all when it’s two frat kids who drag themselves in with a foot and a half. 

“I’m gonna call them thing one and thing two. For memorization purposes, you know I’m bad with faces, sleepy.” 

But you catch the way his brown eyes flicker to the bloody stump of a leg, then quickly away. Other than that? You can’t catch him. But if Robby’s giving him that look when Jack slips into that voice–something slightly too controlled and flat, silently asking his fellow attending: 

Can you handle this?

You know you’re not in the wrong for wanting him to fall into your arms. To comfort him. 

And Robby’s eyes glance back at you, and his question for you is nearly the same. 

Can you handle him?

You wait for more patients to burst in with the next wave of Fourth of July chaos: More teens with burns of all degrees, parents carrying toddlers who’d picked up lit sparklers from the wrong end, and plenty of drunk men clutching their mangled hands, the ones that were holding their fifth and sixth beers twenty minutes ago. 

You let his strong, stubbled jaw clench a bit more. You let him be a man before you try to see if he can crawl into your hold, and you won’t name him submissive or small–you’ll name him safe. 

Jack stands at the main trauma bay sink as he scrubs fresh blood off his forearms. This is what he counts as a break. 

You eye him when you hear more fireworks sound off in the distance. 

He scrubs harder. 

“You’re gonna sand your skin off.” 

He’s a tall, silent figure in his black scrubs. He scrubs all the way up to his large, rounded biceps. 

You could feel guilty for thinking he’s beautiful here. 

He doesn’t look up at you. 

“Better than risking an infection.”

It’s not said as a quip. Not as jab. But you can tell from his tone, and with the way he scrubs–too rough, too methodical…

He’s trying not to feel something.

“Jack.” 

At his name, he does glance over with his unblinking eyes, managing to focus on you, and in this moment, you catch that flicker in his eyes as the world pops and burns away on asphalt. 

A brittle, controlled dread. 

Nothing new, but it doesn’t hurt any less, does it?

You offer him a small, tired smile. 

“I brought you coffee.”

You lift the Styrofoam cup. You think there must be something like hope along your face. And when Jack’s expressions soften for just a moment, you feel your cheeks go warm with a speeding heartbeat. 

He lets out a breath that sounds less like a natural sigh and more like something he forces out of himself. 

“Thanks, sleepy.”

He takes the cup. Your fingers brush against his for an instant. 

And god, you want more–you want his touch to deepen at your stomach the way it does now, but…not now. 

“Most I can do for the sixth best attending.”

You want him to jab back with something dry: “From what I can remember, we don’t even have five E.R attendings? Am I sending you to neuro or ID?”

Nothing but the way Jack presses his thumb into the rim of the cup.

At that, behind the both of you is your sweet Mel King sweeping past with a tray of suture kids, trying her best to make her mutters about “her first firework season” sound happy. 

You take a step towards Jack. You feel your voice lower before it leaves you. 

This is the way he is with you, you think. And every time he’s like this when the days get too hard for you, for sunshine, you’re always left wanting more. 

You couldn’t know how selfish you are in the reversal. 

“You can take a break, you know.”

Jack's gaze flicks once to the entrance, and you already picture the sight perfectly before you turn. It’s where two paramedics bring in a man who’s half-conscious in his shrill screams, both both hands wrapped in towels soaked through with red.

“No.” 

He says it low. 

“I can’t.”

He says it simply. Factually. And as your mouth parts with a soft sigh, you can tell. 

It’s not his casual stubbornness or pride. It’s something else. Something desperate. 

It’s too apparent when the twentieth mangled foot comes through the doors. As your doctor’s jaw works. The tendons in his throat shift as he swallows. 

Strong in all the ways he doesn’t have to be, not with you. 

“Jack–” 

And suddenly, you’re following him as he paces to the hub.

I’m sorry, my doctor, there’s no place you can go that I won’t follow. I know this map of this E.R almost as well as I know you. 

“Jack—”

You stop when your name falls out of his mouth. 

You don’t know if he meant it to come out as rough as it did. 

“Go home. It is well past a double shift for you.”

“I’m not leaving you here to—”

And right when you’re around to grab at his rounded, hairy bicep, a crash breaks your sentence apart. It makes you jump. 

“Jesus!”

Someone dropped a bin of bloodied gauze in the hall, and in its echo…it was undoubtedly something worthy enough to make the Pitt yelp and groan. 

You scoff before you laugh and roll your eyes. 

“We can use the fallen pieces for a makeshift slip n’ slide, how about it–”

What breaks your words apart when you turn back is something worthy enough to break your heart about, too. You blink. Your breath hitches. 

“...Jack?” 

He must’ve jerked in the instant the bin crashed, because the coffee’s everywhere. It’s splashed across the pink of your sneakers. 

But you can only focus on how Jack’s gaze, always fixated on something, is focused on…nothing. He’s staring into nothing. But your own gaze can’t let go of his hand gripping the counter so hard that his knuckles have already gone white. 

And his other hand rubs at where his prosthetic connects to his stump. He’s pressing in to the point where he could make a bruise. 

Jack. Jack…don’t do this to yourself. I know it’s more than anything I could imagine, but you have us. You have me. You can have every part of me if it means you’ll never feel like this every again. 

You don’t focus on the way Samira or Dana freeze halfway across the bay, or the way Langdon’s mouth parts in quiet alarm. 

You just feel your heart stutter in your chest. 

You reach out to him, and it’s as selfish as it is for every part of him. 

“Hey, baby. Hey. Jack?”

Jack’s chest rises in a ragged breath, but his eyes don’t follow. 

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not, baby. It’s okay–” 

“Not. Here. Not–” 

The hand on his leg curls into a square fist. 

Your hand closes gently around his wrist. There can be no room for caution or flustered nerves. 

Not when he needs you. 

“Take a breath. You’re here. You aren’t anywhere else. You’re okay. Relatively speaking.” 

It takes a second. And then two. And then three. 

And five and six more for Jack’s eyes to lift to yours, and you would’ve waited for the rest of the night, because you see it all there, unguarded–

The fury. The fear. The memories he can’t name. 

He lets you see it, and when he lets himself fall forward? 

When his forehead presses into yours? 

You swallow every bit of what could make you collapse into him, because for once, he needs you more than you could ever need him, and you never thought it was possible. 

He swallows again. 

“I hate this holiday.”

“...I know.” 

Now you do. As long as you don’t say it out loud, you’re not breaking the first rule. 

And neither is the rest of the Pitt as they pretend not to see the way Jack finally leans forward, curls against the loose strands of your hair. 

And neither is Jack when he thinks back on this Fourth of July. When he didn’t fall apart or panic, but when it became pretty damn obvious to him—to everyone, that he needed something he’d pretend he’d never had damn said need to ask for. 

When the worst part was when he couldn’t help the need, when the calm started to crack in the fifth hour, then the eighth, then the thirteenth…it was never gonna be anybody else but you. 

Always her. Always you.

[layla4567]

Wrapped around your finger

pairing: Bob!Floyd x Fem!reader

fandom: Top gun Maverick

summary: You and Bob had known each other since kindergarten and elementary school, friends since early childhood. When you least expected it, time and fate brought you back together.

warning: fluff, friends to lovers, cheesy love, mention of child Bob and child reader, mention that the reader was a stutterer as a child (Sorry if this isn't an accurate representation of people who stutter, I wrote it with no intention of offending anyone), slightly mention of bullying, Jake being a dick, beta read, first time writing for this fandom, a slightly specific description about the reader's body, swearing

Bob Floyd, that reserved and introverted child who stuck to you like gum during recess. The shy guy with glasses and you the stuttering girl with braces were the perfect targets for bullying and teasing. Maybe that's why they became so close; they shared the same misfortune but still supported each other.

"We floated together"

That was your motto.

a secret pact you made one afternoon in a park while playing on the swings, where you both promised to stay till the end of the line. You were so happy to have Bob by your side. He helped you with your homework and shared his lunch with you. And he was also so lucky that you were his friend, his only friend, really. You comforted him when he was sad. Sometimes, you even plucked up your courage and tried to defend him against his unfair classmates, like that time...

You had just left the bathroom and headed to the schoolyard looking for Bob to play hide-and-seek when you saw a group of older children gathered in a circle. You noticed a younger boy in the center of the circle. It was Bob.

The other kids circled your poor friend like carrion vultures. The closer you got, the more you could hear what those bullies were saying.

"Come on, four eyes, catch it if you can," laughed a blond boy as he held up your friend's glasses.

Bob tried to jump up and grab his glasses from his hands, but the boy was much taller. You watched with pity as your friend became desperate and on the verge of tears, while the others pushed him further into the center of the circle and made mocking gestures.

With your fists clenched and your heart racing, you ran towards them, eager to stop them.

"Hey!!"

Everyone turned to look at you, even Bob, although he had to squint because he couldn't really notice your figure, but he recognized you by your voice. The blond boy who had grabbed your friend's glasses got dangerously close to you.

"Look at Bob's savior," he turned to look at him. "Bobby is going to let a girl save him? Is he that cowardly and weak?" He laughed loudly, followed by his companions.

"L-le-let h-him g-g-go" you said nervously

That boy saw you again and imitated your condition with mockery and malice "Bu-bu-but what if I don't want to? What will you do? Cry? You don't even know how to speak well."

You felt your eyes start to water, but you gritted your teeth, holding them back. You wiped your eyes with your uniform sleeve and closed the distance between you and him, ready to get Bob out of the crowd. But you couldn't get too close because the bully grabbed you tightly by the arms and held you in place with an arm around your neck. Scared, Bob tried to go to your aid, but another kid pushed him away.

"You can't escape now, you toothy piece of junk" the blonde child said to you

But you'd already reached your limit. You opened your mouth and bit down hard on his hand, eliciting a squeal of pain from him. The wire from your braces had dug into his skin, causing him to bleed slightly. He immediately let you go, growling and squeezing his hand. In that moment of distraction, the bully's friends had let their guard down and were no longer paying attention to Bob. You took advantage of that.

"R-RUN BOB!!"

You quickly grabbed your friend's glasses from the ground and gave them to him as he ran past you. It took the other kids a few seconds to react, but screaming furiously, they chased him at full speed. You watched them from a distance, hoping with all your might that Bob would lose sight of them. You stared until they were just a blur on the horizon.

A few hours later, when all the students were supposed to return to class, the teacher asked you to look for Bob since he was nowhere to be seen. After scouring the entire playground, you found him sitting behind a bush, clutching his knees. He was shaking all over, and his glasses were crooked and fogged up with tears. You crouched down next to him and, without saying anything, hugged him. You felt the tears on your shoulder, and you let them flow.

"..Thanks..." he said softly

When you returned to the classroom, Bob still felt a little in shock from the adrenaline, so you sat with him throughout the class, not caring if the others made fun of them as a couple of lovebirds. You held his hand the whole time with a smile that he returned, more relaxed.

Years later, you unfortunately had to move, which would mean going to different high schools and separating from your youngest friend. Of course, you could still keep in touch through emails or arrange to meet up somewhere nearby since you weren't leaving the country, but it still wouldn't be the same. Deep down, you knew that with so much homework, you wouldn't be able to be as close as before. You remember that day like it was yesterday. Bob came to your house to say goodbye. Before you got into the moving truck, you hugged him tightly while crying uncontrollably. Even your mother had to pull on your arm because you had clung to him like a tick. As you climbed into the back of the truck, they had left the door open so you could see your friend as you left. As you waved, Bob watched the truck drive away with a sad expression, the corners of his lips turned down.

But back to the present, life has smiled on you despite everything. You finished high school with honors and had earned a training certificate. It's true that you never heard from your childhood friend again, but that's how life was; everyone went their separate ways and continued with their lives as best they could. You had also recently landed a job as a military trainer at the famous Top Gun, where the aviators trained.

You were happy for this opportunity; you had worked hard for it and hoped it would become your new stable job. Upon arriving, Captain Maverick greeted you with a handshake and a smile.

"Miss Y/L, right? Welcome to the military aviation headquarters. I hope you feel at home."

"Thank you very much, sir. It's an honor to be part of this."

"I trust you won't disappoint us, but please come and see the facilities."

The man guided you on a tour of the entire place from the training rooms to the bathrooms.

"Now a pilot will come to show you where you will work" and then he gave you a file with papers "these are your schedules and the list of all the Top Gun pilots"

You were about to look at the list curiously when Maverick's voice interrupted you. "Ah just in time, Y/n, he'll guide you to the training room."

The man's finger was pointing at someone behind you, and when you turned around, you saw a fairly tall, blond man with a white-toothed smile approaching the two of you. You didn't know why his face seemed familiar until he was close enough for something in your mind to click. But of course, that man was the damn bully who tormented Bob throughout your childhood. The same smile, the nose, even that way of walking, so haughty and pretentious. You couldn't help but wrinkle your nose slightly at the memory.

Maverick made the introductions for you "Y/N this is Jake Seresin, Jake she is the new coach Y/n Y/L"

The blond man, upon hearing your first and last name, blinked for a few seconds, staring at you fixedly but not really paying attention, as if his mind were wandering among the sea of ​​memories and its mysterious and treacherous waves. Suddenly, something in him flinched, and now he looked at you with a wide smile. He had recognized you.

"Wait.. is that you? Y/n? From elementary school?"

You nodded uncomfortably, pressing your lips into a forced smile. Jake laughed delightedly.

"Wow I almost don't recognize you, you've changed a lot" and whistling he ran his eyes up and down your silhouette like a piece of meat at a deli "I remember when you had braces and now... wow, how time flies"

"Uh, I see you already knew each other..." your boss interrupted, confused.

Jake and you looked at him nodding, he smiled while you made a face that was meant to be friendly

"In that case, you'll have a lot to talk about, I'll leave you alone."

"Uh not really...-"

"Yes, thank you captain, see you later!"

They both spoke in unison, but Jake's voice sounded a little louder and above yours. When Maverick left, the blond pulled you towards him, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You stiffened at his touch, wanting to have him as far away from you as possible.

"So, I hope you don't hold a grudge against me, you know, we were immature children, but let's not talk about the past, tell me, what brought you here?"

With some discomfort, you told him about your studies and your life, and he didn't mind brazenly strutting about himself. Despite the years, you noticed that he was still the same narcissistic and annoying person he had been as a child. The worst part was that you realized that now he conveniently tried to flirt with you or make advances. Of course, he had thought that without braces and without stuttering, you looked prettier. Poor fool, he only saw beauty in superficiality.

"You know, they call me Hangman here. We all have code names. Maybe you'll even have your own in time. What do you think of "Doll"?"

Hangman. Pfft, that name was well placed

Thankfully, they reached the large room where the other pilots would soon be training. There were several mats stacked side by side and several punching bags.

"Well, we're here. This is where testosterone is abundant, girl. You're not scared of seeing naked, sweaty torsos, are you?" he said, laughing flirtatiously, with one arm strategically placed on a table, which made his biceps stand out.

You simply rolled your eyes and decided to look at the list once and for all. There were several men and women alike. Bradley, Penelope, Mickey. Your gaze quickly went down each name without really showing interest. Until a single male name froze your blood. Near the end of the list, it read: Robert "Bob" Floyd. Your hands clenched the notebook until your knuckles turned white. Bob. My God, your childhood best friend worked there?! You swallowed loudly, unable to organize your thoughts or emotions. Jake, seeing you in that state, approached you, looking at the paper in your hands, and read the name that had impacted you so much.

"Oh yeah... the little Bob. The world is a small place, don't you think?" He snorted in a laugh

Your hand trembled slightly as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. You had so many questions. What had become of his life? Had it changed much? Did he still remember you? The blond man exclaimed, as if he'd read your mind.

"You wouldn't believe how much Bob is still the same, as shy as ever. At least he changed the frame of his glasses"

Pretending you didn't care that much, you casually asked, "So, uhm, how is he? I mean, is he a good pilot?"

He looked at you raising an eyebrow and smiling "Well yeah, everyone says he's the best actually. But I still think he's still green"

Before you could ask anything else, a cacophony of voices and laughter filled the entrance to the room as a platoon of men almost pushed their way in. Your gaze quickly scanned the group, searching for him until you saw him in the back row, a little apart from the rest but with his back straight. The men didn't seem to have noticed your presence, so you cleared your throat loudly. In that instant, everything went silent, and you felt like dozens of eyes were turning to look at you.

You suddenly felt self-conscious but you tried hard to make your voice clear and crisp. "Hi... uh, I don't know if Maverick has already told you, but I'll be your new coach, I'm..."

All those faces made you nervous so Jake said for you "Y/n, this is y/n y/l"

"Yeah, that. Thank you"

He winked at you. Looking at all the pilots, you noticed that Floyd had sat up even more and his eyes widened. Memories of that stuttering girl who used to defend him when he needed it most, his best friend, flooded his mind. The girl he'd slowly and without thinking about it had fallen madly in love with. And how could he not? She was the only woman in his life who paid attention to him and cared for him, aside from his mother, of course.

And now he saw her standing there in front of him, working at Top Gun as a trainer. She looked so different, yet so the same. He had always thought of her as beautiful, but now her figure looked toned, and something about her exuded greater confidence and assurance. Ah, but those eyes, which saw everything with delicacy, were still the same. Even without the braces, her smile still spread joy every time he saw her.

"Okay, let's start with some little warm-ups." Your voice brought him out of his thoughts

One by one, you approached the pilots to check that they were doing the exercises correctly. As you passed your friend who was doing push-ups, you greeted him sweetly.

"Hi Bob"

He looked at your shoes and then looked up to meet your warm eyes and your honest smile that almost made him dizzy, you were truly stunning but not just on the outside

"Oh h-hi!"

Without saying anything else you continued passing in front of the others, controlling them while the companions next to Bob looked at him with curiosity as if asking for explanations, he blushed and said nothing, he simply continued doing push-ups

After class, everyone grabbed towels to dry off their sweat before heading to the showers. They looked tired, but they still waited in line for you to say goodbye.

"You did very well, I'll see you tomorrow at the same time, okay?"

Everyone felt and headed to the locker room, talking loudly. Before everyone left, you approached Bob, touching his exposed bicep. He quickly turned to look at you.

"Hey, I'd like to talk to you later, can I?"

He nodded several times with a polite smile "Of course"

While you waited for Bob outside the training room, you tried to rehearse in your head what you were going to say. You didn't know how to start; you didn't want everything to become awkward. He was your damn best friend, but so many years had passed that you felt the conversation wouldn't flow. Would it still feel the same despite all this time? You didn't have time to think about anything else because your friend was coming out of the locker room in his khaki uniform. It fit him like a glove, and his slicked-back hair looked good on him. Even those aviator sunglasses were more attractive than the black-framed ones he used to wear when he was ten.

He walked toward you with a slow but steady step, his face kind and a shy but tender smile on his lips. As he stood in front of you, you noticed he was a head taller than you.

"It's funny, it seems the roles have been reversed. Now you're taller than me" you laughed as you stood on your tiptoes and raised an arm measuring both of their heads.

He laughed amusedly remembering how as children you were the one who was a few centimeters taller than him.

"It's been a while, huh?" He said softly as always

"yeah..." you said with a tone of nostalgia and melancholy

"But tell me what you wanted to talk about."

"Well, I just wanted to know what's going on with you. I've missed you, you know?"

You couldn't help but say it sweetly and lovingly, and he noticed, but honestly, he had missed you so much too.

"Me too, actually"

And so they continued talking, he told you things about his life since they separated until now. And it was as if time had never passed. They began to reminisce about funny anecdotes and laughed heartily, feeling the tension ease. Your laughter was always therapeutic for Bob, so joyful and resounding. He stared at you for a few seconds longer than he should have, wanting to treasure that moment forever. God, he'd missed you so much, more than he'd like to admit.

"Speaking of old times... Jake, uh?"

"Oh yeah...him" Bob's smile faded a little

You noticed that the man still made your friend a little uncomfortable. You took his hand and immediately felt it warm up.

"Listen, they say people change, but I don't think that applies to him. If he ever bothers you, I'm here for you. We floated together, remember?"

A pretty pink blush crept up her cheeks. "You haven't forgotten." He smiled.

You laughed in surprise. "How could I forget? Some things don't change..." you finished sweetly.

Unable to say anything, he simply nodded, still staring at you. Yes, you were still the same sweet, helpful girl, and he was thankful for that. He didn't know who he should thank for bringing you into his life. Speechless and completely hooked on you, Bob watched you walk down the hall. The days ahead will definitely be interesting if you're there with him.

* * * *

Your life at Top Gun had already become a pleasant routine; you practically lived there. You entered the training room at the same time, and after a few hours of training the pilots, you said goodbye with a smile, hoping to see them again. And as expected, you and Bob grew closer. Every time he trained on the punching bag, you approached him with the excuse of correcting his position, even though he was actually doing well. And when everyone left the room, you held him a little longer, hoping to continue chatting. Even when everyone else went out to fly, you would sneak away to see him alone, even though it wasn't your work schedule. You watched him soar through the sky with your heart in your hand, wishing him luck in a whisper that drifted off into the wind.

Bob's colleagues weren't blind or stupid; they had clearly realized that the trainer and he had known each other before. Often in the lecture hall where they learned about aircraft components, the other aviators would approach him with their chairs and surround him with questions, hoping for an answer.

"So? What are you and the sexy trainer up to?"

"Come on Bob, don't leave us hanging!"

"I bet you've already kissed more than three times in the bathroom"

Bob didn't say anything, just babbled and blushed up to his ears, although deep down he liked the idea that they thought there was something going on between you and him. Jake wasn't so happy. Envious as he always was, now that he saw you closer to Bob, he bothered him more than before. He had just approached the group to sarcastically mock them.

"Kissing? C'mon guys, we know that Bob has never touched a woman in his life, right Bobby?"

He looked at him, his jaw clenched, but said nothing. The teasing continued and only increased over the days. Bob was now an adult, but his introversion prevented him from defending himself properly; he simply contented himself with ignoring him maturely or responding with any banal response. The less attention he paid to him, the faster he would lose interest. Unfortunately, he was wrong.

The final straw had been one afternoon in the training room. You had been delayed a few minutes when everyone else was already there. They were waiting for you, trying to kill time by chatting. When Jake brought up a topic Bob didn't want to talk about.

"Hey Rooster, did you know Bob went to the same elementary school as me?" he said loudly, allowing everyone to understand. Bob was simply concentrating on tying his sneakers.

"You mentioned it at least a hundred times..." Rooster sighed without interest.

"Oh yeah? and did I also mention that y/n were friends and in the same class?"

Bob's jaw tightened as everyone now turned to pay attention to Hangman, the only one who still didn't want to look at him was Floyd.

"Well now you know where they met, the sad thing about this whole story is that so many years have passed and Bob still hasn't confessed to her" he said mockingly.

Bob clenched his fists and frowned as he walked over to the mat and sat down to stretch. Meanwhile, Hangman continued to mock him mercilessly.

"I'm not really surprised. Has Bob ever told us about a girlfriend from his past? I bet he's still a virgin."

"Okay Jake, we understand, shut up now," said FranBoy, tired of hearing him

"Why? I'm just telling the truth. And you know what else I'll tell you? That y/n is going to run at my feet, I already have her in the bag" he laughed narcissistically

Hearing your name, Bob pricked up his ears.

"Although poor thing, she was so ugly when she was little, with those braces and that stutter..-"

That's it. Something in Bob ignited. He jumped up from the mat and approached Hangman, visibly irritated. "Stop it, don't talk about her like that. You want to upset me? Fine, do it. But leave her out of this."

Bob rarely got angry enough to explode, and this was one of them. The satisfaction of having angered him was evident on Jake's face. He approached Bob until he was face to face, towering over him by a few inches, which made him seem even more intimidating. However, Floyd wasn't easily intimidated, not anymore.

"Or what?" Jake laughed, remembering something. "This reminds me so much of our elementary school days, when you used to run scared next to the teacher. Where will you run now, Bobby?"

Bob's jaw tightened as he brought his face closer to him. "Nowhere."

The tension was palpable in the air, enough to cut it with a knife. His friends were all around, alert to any false move, ready to defend him. Hangman noticed that Bob was letting his guard down and getting angrier when he talked about you, so he decided to attack from that angle.

"Speaking of Y/N, I wonder why she hasn't slept with you yet? She seems a bit slut-".

Before he could finish his sentence, Hangman received a strong push that almost made him fall backward. Bob's face was red with rage and his glasses were slightly crooked from the impact. The others ran to stop them just as Jake lunged at him again like a wild dog. Before the fight escalated, they managed to calm them down, just as you walked through the door.

"Sorry for being late, too much trafic!-... Is everything ok?"

Your cheerful voice faded slightly as you saw everyone's serious looks and Bob and Jake's slightly excited looks. A slight suspicion formed in your mind.

"Yeah we are all good" Rooster said

But you noticed how Hangman and your friend glared at each other. You stared at Bob as if you wanted to make sure everything was really okay, but he avoided your gaze, staring at the floor. You decided you'd fix this, your way.

"Alright, we'll start with push-ups adding weight, yeah?"

Everyone was already in position, waiting for your orders. You paced up and down like a soldier, analyzing their reactions, and finally said, "We'll do the following: one by one, I'll sit on your backs and you'll do a series of 10 push-ups." Everyone attended, smiling, overconfident.

"I see that it seems easy to you, I warn you that I am not as fragile as I look" you said with a giggle

The test began, one by one you sat like a Buddha on the pilots' backs and they soon discovered that your small body was heavy-boned, your toned muscles from so much training had gained weight and more than one could not complete the ten repetitions. When you sat on Bob's back you could feel how flushed and slightly nervous he was but you were very delicate and kind with him.

"Very good Bob, keep going. Just two more push-ups"

He'd done it perfectly. The last one left in line was Jake. With an innocent smile, you decided to laugh at him a little as revenge. Before sitting on him, you grabbed a dumbbell and your cell phone. Everyone looked at you intrigued. Without saying anything, you sat comfortably with your legs crossed on his back and began to look at your cell phone while with the other hand you exercised with the dumbbell. Jake didn't say anything but made great efforts to keep up, although he seemed annoyed.

"Come on Hangman, weren't you the one who boasted of being the strongest? Prove it now."

The others' stifled giggles filled the room as Bob watched the scene with an amused smile. The laughter grew louder as you dropped your phone between your legs to yawn theatrically or look at your nails in feigned boredom. Jake, who hated being the butt of ridicule, swore under his breath.

"Sorry, what was that? I didn't hear you." You placed a hand near your ear to hear better. "Oh, he probably said something like not having problem doing 10 more push-ups, since it's apparently not an impediment for someone as strong as you...'"

Now the laughter was evident; everyone was happy that someone had finally put that idiot in his place. For his part, Hangman's neck was red from exertion, and his veins were prominent as he growled like an animal. When he finally finished all the push-ups, you moved away from him, and he collapsed on the mat, breathing heavily.

"Alright, take a break Beachboy. See? It wasn't that hard."

Everyone was laughing with amusement except for poor Hangman. You said goodbye to everyone as usual, and on the way out, you ran into Bob, who looked at you in admiration and gratitude, as if he were seeing his guardian angel. He wanted to open his mouth to say something, but you silenced him.

"Listen I don't know what happened in there between you and that asshole, but I already told you, I'll be here to defend you."

"You've always done it," Bob said, full of love.

"Yeah... and I will continue to do so"

He smiled tenderly, he knew you would. "Well, I was just going to thank you. For everything, not just this, for always being by my side when I needed it most."

You were about to answer him something when you saw Jake behind him walking down the hall like an angry gorilla "Hey Floyd, this isn't over" he shouted angrily

"Oh, I think it is." You whispered menacingly, while with one arm you placed Bob behind you. When Hangman was close enough, he tried in vain to reach Bob, but you blocked his way.

"Move, this is none of your business"

"It's none of my business, you say? If you mess with Bob, you mess with me. Or are you afraid of a girl beating you? Wasn't that enough for you in the training room? I already humiliated you in there, I could do it anywhere."

Bob behind you swallowed saliva but a smile wanted to appear on his lips, Jake looked at you as if he was seeing you for the first time

"I repeat, Hangman, stay away from him before this gets ugly for you, because next time I won't be so reasonable"

Jake looked at Bob before turning back to you with a frown, wanting to say something but your determined look stopped him and he decided to walk away growling. You put Bob in front of you again, turning his back to the hallway where Hangman was walking away.

"Are you ok?"

"Y-yeah I mean, that was... wow, thanks again" he let out a nervous, airy laugh

If that had made him nervous, then your friend didn't know what was in store for him. You raised a finger as if asking him to wait. You placed your hands on his broad shoulders and raised your head to look over his shoulders where the blond man was leaving.

"HEY HANGMAN!" you called him

He turned around angrily, asking what you wanted. Without wasting any time, you grabbed Bob's face and kissed him. At first, your friend let out a gasp between your lips, but it was only for a few seconds before he slid his hands down your waist, pulling you closer to him. You opened your eyes to see Jake's reaction and raised your middle finger over Bob's shoulders so that the dickhead could get a good look. Jake snorted, hurt in his pride, while you closed your eyes, smiling happily against Bob's lips, deepening the kiss.

He moved away just a few inches enough to speak and clear his mind "You don't know how much I've wanted to do this..." he said almost in a whisper with his voice breaking, drunk with love

"Then don't stop..." you smiled flirty

It was already a given that you two would be inseparable until the end of time. Floating together

[lovecore-muppet]

[image description: a lime green traffic cone with black text. It says the word, “smelly” and has an arrow pointing to the ground. End ID]

found you a new hat.

[writteninessence]

Backstage Pass idols!Hyunjin x Felix x Chan x manager!reader

Hair sticking to his temples, lip bitten raw, gaze bright with effort. He turned his head toward you like he’d felt your eyes on him, and for a second, just a second, he looked right at you. Didn’t smile. Didn’t nod. Just… looked.

Warnings: short lil sum, fluff, suggestiveness, might make your heart beat a little harder, make ya toes curl, forbidden(?) relationship, poly, dom!Bangchan (has my heart), some I probably forgot Word Count: 771 Tags: I don't have any yet! Comment or message me if you wanna tag along for the ride <3 A/N: possible series... be nice. we don't tolerate any hate over here. Enjoy <3

You’d learned how to walk on a tightrope.

It wasn’t in the job description, but no one told you what to do when your artists looked at you like that—like they were starving and you were the one thing they weren’t allowed to touch.

And maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if they weren’t them.

If Hyunjin didn’t move like sin in silk, fluid, unbothered, his beauty so sharp it felt intentional. He was always watching you out of the corner of his eye like he liked catching you slipping. Like he knew he was the one you couldn’t stop thinking about at 2 AM when the schedules were finalized and the lights were off and your fingers hovered over your phone.

If Felix didn’t have that voice. That impossible, low, honey-dipped drawl that made everything he said sound like a secret. And if he didn’t touch your arm every time he thanked you. And smile at you like you’d just done something miraculous for him, even when all you did was hand him a damn protein bar.

And if Bang Chan—God—if he didn’t make it so damn hard to keep your head on straight. If he didn’t know things before you said them, or watched you like you were a blueprint he had already memorized. Like he wanted to be the one to break your rules for you.

You were their manager. Their anchor. The one who kept everything running when they were tired, stressed, and cracking. You were supposed to be neutral.

 Unshakeable.

And yet, there you were—shaken.

They were rehearsing for an end-of-year stage—tight choreography at a grueling pace. You weren’t even watching. Not really. Not until someone called “break,” and you looked up just in time to see Hyunjin drop to the floor, chest heaving.

He didn’t look exhausted. He looked alive.

Hair sticking to his temples, lip bitten raw, gaze bright with effort. He turned his head toward you like he’d felt your eyes on him, and for a second, just a second, he looked right at you. Didn’t smile. Didn’t nod. Just… looked.

And you looked back.

Something in your chest stuttered.

Then he blinked and looked away. Gone.

You swallowed hard and glanced away, pretending to scroll through your tablet. Notes. Tomorrow’s flight. Anything that wasn’t him.

It happened again the next week during a late-night recording.

Felix was in the booth, hoodie pulled low over his forehead, voice dipped into his chest. You were sitting behind the glass with Chan, going over production notes on a tablet. You heard Felix finish a take, and before you could speak, he glanced up.

Right at you.

Not Chan. Not the engineer. You.

His gaze lingered, curious. Soft. Familiar.

Like he liked the sound of your silence more than the beat.

You blinked and looked away, typing some note you’d already forgotten before you finished it.

Inside the booth, Felix smiled to himself.

And then Bang Chan—the worst of them, the one who knew better—he didn’t say anything when it started. He just watched.

Not in a creepy way. No. He watched like a leader. Like someone who saw the way Hyunjin’s voice got low and polite when he asked you if you needed anything. Like someone who noticed Felix was suddenly helping you carry things no one asked him to. Like someone who saw your hands shake when he stood too close.

He saw it all. And he didn’t stop it.

It was only you and Chan left behind, finalizing lyrics before the rest of the boys gathered in the studio to record them.

He didn’t say anything at first.

Just stared.

Elbow draped over the couch back, one knee propped up, shirt slightly clinging to him. Calm. Still. Like he was giving you a chance to speak first.

But you didn’t.

So he did.

“You need to be more careful.”

You blinked. “What?”

“You’re watching them too openly,” he said. His tone was low but firm. Measured. Like he was weighing every word before handing it to you.

“I’m not—”

“You are.”

He stood slowly, notebook in one hand, the other running through his curls as he stepped into your space. Not enough to touch. But close. Too close.

“You’re making it hard for them to hold back,” he murmured.

Your breath caught.

“What makes you think they’re holding back?” you whispered.

Chan leaned in, close enough to brush your cheek with his breath.

“They told me.”

You froze.

He pulled away, walking toward the door like he hadn’t just cracked the ground open under you.

And then he left.

To be continued

-E

[drawsmaddy]

[ID: A digital drawing of Jonathan Sims and Martin Blackwood from The Magnus Archives. Jon is staring at someone out of frame with many extra eyes that are visible on his face and neck as he says "Ceaseless Watcher-". Martin is stood to the right and slightly behind Jon, he's looking at Jon and blushing. Text above his head reads "Oh. Hot." End description.]

Deeply charmed by this aspect of the s5 dynamic

[sapphiccup]

Burning Blue...

Word count: 12k plus

Pairing: Abby x reader

Cw: Slow burn <3 series…. //light panic attacks descriptions, awkward conversation, highly suggestive, combat sparing, PTSD, use of cannabis, Abby's a perv, warning there will be nsfw in later chapters, flames, Malnourished Abby for the first few chapters, trust issues, anxiety, gay awakening for Abby? Did I say angst? yep, gay stuff. MDNI AND CIS MEN -> DNI!

Summary: This rose has thorns, yet she still grew from the cracks of the earth, only you take the step to water her roots, and pluck her weeds. Pricked again and again, and.. again. Until she finally lets you in on one condition: keep an eye on him.

Dc!:@/mmadeinheavenn

Song: Burning blue by Mariah the Scientist🧪💎

Chapter 1…ᖭི༏ᖫྀ

Nursing you Back to life

Over time there was one thing Abby took notice of when it came to you. Other than you nagging her to go out and mingle with people. Especially teaming up with Lev to encourage this... But this one thing overpowered those situations. You had a scent about you that she doesn’t come across often, this scent of yours twirled its way up her nostrils, it’ll cling onto her clothes, and best of all it lingered. It was as if you owned perfume. Real perfume, like it was the old times, but it wasn’t perfume. Spinning her head in all the right ways. It stirred up emotions that she thought she killed off for everyone; from how warm it would make her feel a sense of safety to be around you. No matter what time it was or where you guys were, the scent you carried helped so much. This constant call she would dial in her mind, finally being answered silently. Sometimes she thought she was weird for thinking a scent could hold so much power over a human being. Before she would have said that this is a myth, but.. It’s not. Dreams of her dad, flashes, noises, even scents now.. she gets it; she understands it.  Certain scents remind her of what she did, and it twists and squoze her stomach in ways that tell her  ‘remember when you did this’ . To a point where she could kneel and hold herself until the thoughts stopped berating her. Until you. Until you show up, it’s a breath. A long breath that she does not have to hold. A simple deep in and out. It danced slowly with her, just as with you and her relationship. Slow and steady. You never grabbed her hand and pulled her in the deep end like a whirlpool, in fact you were teaching  her how to swim again. And right now, she’s in deep waters. The kind of waters that you don’t try to swim towards. The deep dark abyssal zone. Her demons wrapped around her as if their arms were the heaviest of chains made of osmium. Her heart ached deep, like the water passing through her, barely able to take those freeing breaths. It was simply lonely.. No spark, no fire, no wood, nothing. The numb of it all consumed her. Reciting to her that ‘ this IS what you deserve.’  What hurt the most for her is that she never questioned it, only accepted it as it was.

Like what’s the point?  As she took another drag from her joint. We don’t question the deep, we only let ourselves drown in it until it suffocates us enough to swim back up only to breathe a moment of air. The cycle of once was tainted by experience, tainted by the memories that you tunnel vision on. And Abby was painted in blue, injected her blood stream with every drag of her strain that she picked up from some passing travelers. Traded for a necklace that they apparently needed to make up for something … ridiculous. Not that Abby remembers she just didn’t care enough to know the whole story as that man rambled on and on of his issue to her. She figured it would distract her. It’ll help her in this time of need however. Weed only expands the current emotion of a living being.  Her hypothesis of a distraction quickly underestimated that strength of this particular strain. Her heart rate, pedaled, her mind– scattered, her strength, brittled. Gathering locks of her hair from her scalp, as little as it may be now, enough for her to pull. Eyes shut, scared to open to go back to the shadows of her stained in red decisions. The heart she carried heavy— - with drums playing for the world and her trying to shut it up.  To break those sticks and burn them with any light she had, yet she not understands her light has been put out by many things, and many phases of she. 

One leg close to her chest, the other laid flat on the hard cold gray maple. Abby sat in a corner of her home that the village had given to her, enough space for Lev and herself. She sat there telling herself she does not deserve the luxury of a home. However, Lev being there reminds her she needs to provide for him, his home taken from him from the same place she used to think was home. Though, he isn’t here today, staying over at a friends house tonight. 

Abby is overjoyed that he made a friend. At least he has something after you took away his only family from him, a  thought chimed in her mind, and then another, Yeah- Abby at least they have friends, not like how you scattered us towards the beyond for your selfish obsession of a choice to kill Joe Miller., Another jab at herself imagining that her friend is spitting at her. How dare you have a family after mine was destroyed by your fire of a forest, pulling me along with your shit. You’re a fucking monster Abby, a monster!, a cannon in Mel’s voice  directly hitting her in the gut. Another long drag from the joint, wrapping her lips around the brown rolled leaf, deeply inhaling its addictive concoction.  – Hoping, wishing, praying,  that these thoughts will stop, but they just keep going. Festering her like an open wound with hundreds of maggots chewing the flesh, and decaying the veins of her despair.  Abby, I loved you. wh-  , Owen's voice was the last straw. Her jaw twitched with swift irritation passing by.

 Her joint now forgotten– - as she cried out a scream so loud her body rattled, gripping on to her locks harder with both hands on either side of her head. An extermination to the noise in her mind. Screaming until she unraveled, screaming until she felt a tiny bit of warmth, then hot… Really hot..? Extremely hot! Her nose scrunched by the scent of smoke, too much smoke.

“ABBY!?” a shout was near, but not near enough. Boom, her door went, BOOM– BOOM- again and again, and crashed, the door swung open, hinges bent, weeping from the force. 

Your eyes round, in shock that the house you’d visit from time to time was now  surrounded by the colors of yellow and red flames. 

Abby’s head whipped towards you, her face panicked, eyebrows finding purchase of higher than usual, her eyes shot out, her fist clenched. Though, when she realized it was you, she settled. Like a broken down shed  with a rusty roof, settling after a storm. When you entered her house, Hareton Salvanini- Quarto de Hotel immediately started playing, heavens gates were opened, with each step you took, a note played, in sync. Of course, her record player burned from the expansion of these conjured flames. Coughing, and nearly blind by smoke, yet you manage to walk through it all.

You found Abby in a corner, she cradled herself as if she was a child, a child with torment welled up inside…The curtains, aflame, a joint laid at the hem of the curtain, you beelined for it and stomped it out. Didn’t do much but, taking it and stuffing it into your pocket  does much more grace for Abby than she’d think later. The council would have a field day with this news, so why not help her a bit, or a lot – as you drag her by the under of her arms out the damn house. Abby's face was in a daze as if she was here but not here, in the space between hell and heaven, yet not earth. Her jaw slightly slacked, taking the tiniest bits of breath, eyelids half opened, she was gone. 

-

Abby was greeted by bright lights, birds chirped their automatic song, other birds chiming in. 

She laid on an unfamiliar bed, her ears were red like roses, her stomach fell inside of her, sunken, like an anchor, setting down in her vast deep memories recalling what happened, your face, your welled up tears, and then darkness. Ashamed of herself not from the lack of her being alive, no— from you seeing her in that state of wreckage. 

“Of course you’d see me like this..” she said groggily, sucking her teeth, scrubbing down  her face, heaving a long sigh already exhausted from another lie she will probably have to come up with to tell you again. Her hand rested on her face, not parting from her own warmth. Yet, you disregarded that comment she made. Forget any protest she has, you're just happy she’s alive and maybe … Maybe she’s okay. But, that image..  That image of her and her expression of pure fear back at her amber lit home.. in your mind. it doesn’t disappear – no – it stays, and places itself in a mural for your museum of a brain. 

“Abby..  ” 

“I know.-I .. I know there’s something you’re not— telling me,”You contended, your throat feels close to dry as you try to speak. She laid there, eyes baggy, lips red, her nose puffy, she carried tired and sad like a basket full of whatever could fit. More like an overstuffed duffle bag with a beaten up strap barely hanging on. Your body leaned in towards her, and there it was, that scent that Abby could never forget even if she wanted to. 

“Never mind me..” she said groggily, as she slowly rose up from the bed, and you abruptly stopped her. Guiding her to lay back down again, and of course Abby tried to force herself up, but your touch melts her to just give in and lay back down.

“Never mind you? Um— Abby.. do you not realize what situation just transpired? I’m minding the hell out of you.” A stifled laugh trespasses her nostrils, shaking her head at your statement. She knows you mean it, especially from the way you furrowed your brow just now. You never heard her laugh before, you didn’t think she could, and that’s when it hit you. Whatever mask Abby has been wearing around you.. It’s finally cracking, you sat there in a chair watching it pick itself apart. 

“Wow.. I really hit the deep end,” she began, as her trembling hand traveled up to her forehead, it was wet, some sweat and the other substance was– water..? Her sight cuts to the corner of her eye, seeing a nightstand with a metal kidney bowl sitting on top of it, there's a wet towel in it… her sight cuts back to you, and she’s shocked. Why would you take care of me? 

How could you not though? You were worried therefore you acted, did whatever you could, and figured.. You should help in any way you can. Not only to wipe the sweat from her forehead ( and did not want to wipe her whole body down because… that would just be too odd.. And you really don’t want to ruin her safety with you) but you have been wiping her face down for hours to prevent any hot flashes. 

Abby’s teeth dragged across her quivered lip. “I fucked up again..” 

You wondered, what did she mean by that.. However you choose not to interrupt. “I shouldn’t be surprised but I did.. I fucked up, and you– you  saw me. You— shouldn’t have seen me like that. That’s not how I–”

“Fuck..” She grunted out, her eyebrows drawing together mulling over what she thought happened, not yet really understanding how she ended up here, but she just doesn’t care, she’s being seen in a vulnerable state of being. That information, enough, makes her want to grind her teeth in annoyance. Her arm found purchase over her eyes.  “Before I even came here I promised myself that I would get my act together.. I promised. I- I-.. I thought. I thought I could do this. —--I’m like sisyphus.” she lets out, voice breaking her words ever so often.

You let out a little jortle, not meaning to. Which definitely caught Abby’s attention. Removing her arm back to her side, deadpan mounted her face. “I’m sorry.. It’s just.. Only you would make that reference.”  you said, slightly teasing her from past jokes she’s made before,  waving yourself off, silently telling her don’t mind you. Yeah, she’s definitely minding it. 

“Corny?” she asks you with a playful smirk. 

“A bit.. “ you answered honestly, rocking your body side to side, crinkling your nose. She rolled her eyes, giving you a light tap from the back of her hand “You’re such a prick..” 

“I’m sorry? Am I the one spiraling while also making references about greeks?” 

“Yeah whatever.---Got you to laugh.”

“And that you did” 

“Where are we?” She inquired, It’s not the medical center, with the lack of a doctor coming in letting her know what’s what. “ A friends house. One of the twins from the village; it was the best decision because I figured you wouldn’t want everyone in your business.” Even though Abby has become a little out of place, hearing that from you grounded her.

-

Laughs and slight hiccups soon faded and turned for the serious after Abby recovered. You may have been able to conceal some things, but that house can never be tucked under a blanket.  A council meeting was needed to be held. They never had such a big hiccup in the Village for an extensive amount of time . Plus, with Abby being new and all, this was bound to be had… rules needed to be established. Though, this rule frustrated the both of you. 

The ceiling was far above 16 feet, the sun beaming its way through through the multiple windows, groups of people gathered in certain areas murmuring amongst each other. This place you both were in resembled what they would call a courtroom though it was a simple middle school gym now transformed into the main area for parliament. A jury was set, of course the real deciders  are the several councilmen that sat before the both of you. You both stood with hands behind  your back, posture straightened out, head held high, ready to hear whatever will come next. 

A suggestion was thrown at the pair of you, hitting you both right in the back of your heads. The suggestion was so ridiculous there was now way in hell that it would just be agreed upon. No absolutely not– this will not bode well especially with the way you’re about to spill buckets of sweat from such a suggestion. Rubbing your hands together, feeling the increased heart beats rattling against your chest as you tried making sense of all of these decisions, and protocols. It felt like a losing game to even try to protest further. Yet, you still opened your mouth to nip this issue in the bud. However, Abby beat you to the punch.

“What do you mean.. I’m moving in with her?” Abby questioned, her tone sewn with shakey waver, gesturing towards you with a single hand, heightening your psyche alerting your ears to burn, and your eyes to steal a glance of her. Of course, you are happy, but also scared, but also what the hell is wrong with her being upset about it? You being upset about it is one thing, but wow. You’ve been the main one she’s regularly spoken to. At least have some kind of filter.. Or at least not sound so repugnant over the decision.

“According to your recent fiasco of a situation, while also housing a child–”

“He wasn’t present for that situation!” she parried back loudly, thunderous voice echoed in the room, which only made the jur murmured more. She already knows where this discussion will lead to. Her heart sank lower than it already has. The feelings churned in her stomach, as her throat bobbed from the next anticipated words that will come out of this councilman.

“Regardless– you have a child, and since you burnt down your home. You will be living with one of our residents, a trusted resident at that. You will be sepreat-” 

“No fucking way!”

“Abby, be reasonable here, the best we can do is to seperat-’

“That’s not fucking happening.” she crossed her arms, stood her ground, like they were going to blow her away with their words. Was she trying to look intimidating? If she was… it’s not working, from the way her foot is slightly shaking. Anyone could tell she stuffed all her nerves into that one area. 

“Chief please, I can’t babysit this grown woman..” You tried making an excuse, even if it was harsh, maybe that comment will set the reality that this rehabilitation at your abode is unnecessary. Maybe just maybe it will set in. 

“Yes you can, and you will. By the order of the council, you will be taking care of Abby Anderson, until she is confirmed healthy, and until we rebuild the house, which should take,. 4-6 months”

“Half a year, are you serious?!” You shouted, 

“We are working to expand this Village. However we need to clear the infected, and make sure we aren’t trespassing or any one else is trespassing. Lots of things need to be prepared before we just go willy-nilly on what to do. So yes, 4-6 months.. probably…. Okay. Meeting adjourned” 

The councilman was just about to slam their gavel on the block, until “ Wait!--”

“Lev and Abby, cannot be separated,” you stated, taking a step forward.

“They’re family, they came here together, they’ll be here together. I.. I have an entire lower basement where it can basically be a second home. There’s a room, a living room, a mini kitchen with no stove! And it’s plenty of room for Lev to not only have their own space, but no fire hazards near them.” You elaborated your argument, even pulled out as much information they could swim around in their minds IF it’s a good idea.

“You know the rules..”

“Screw the rules, this is a child we’re talking about!” You dared, taking another step forward, hands out to the crowd. 

“We don’t separate families in this village. We never have. And won’t start now.” 

The councilmen shared glances with each other, and took a final nod. “ Fine, prove to us that she can recover, and you’re able to take care of Lev.”

With two slams of their gavel, the meeting was finally over. 

-

On the way back to your house, the air was muggy, and hot, however opening your door was like a breeze of fresh cool air, yet at the same time it was thick, hard to slice through between you and Abby.

As she entered your abode, she was welcomed with bursts of your pheromones; your scent that gave a high for her nerves. All 500 nerves– in her nose, were all alerted that you’ve been in every inch of this house. Like a hungry hound dog, she wanted to keep inhaling you in until she f- She shook her head at the thought. Why would I think of doing.. –I never had this feeling  with– nor these thoughts..Oh god..

Pinching the bridge of her nose, swallowing those thoughts down with a heavy gulp. Regaining her focus once more, trying to keep it together is more like it. 

She saunters her way inside the house, following you, however it felt like she was walking through mud with how suddenly aware she was of herself and.. you..--- her eyes followed down the ivories of your spine, crossing steadily down to your hips.. Traveling further below to your arse.Those jeans on you look especially good today, the way they hugged you like a nice sized glove . She blinked twice, telling herself in her head to–

 Abs, get it together, the last thing you need in your life right now is to discover how perverted you could be. And to a friend? I should just crawl myself into a hole. 

“Sit.” you commanded, gesturing towards the kitchen. it was as if your personality switched. Abby’s eyebrows favored to be knit together for this click of a button you just pulled. For a while now, she noted you to be kind, and warm, but as soon as she was ordered to even be in your space, you’ve been acting.. abnormal. 

Abby sighed deeply as she obliged to your stern command, taking a seat at your kitchen's barstool. 

You took a long pause before speaking, and Abby took in your surprisingly expansive kitchen. It was a black themed rustic kitchen, you had a new range hood, You took a glass from your matte black cabinets shutting it so hard, that she winced from the noise. Oh yeah she’s suuuuper pissed.

 An island of a counter where she sat, and tapped her finger along the hardwood. It was as if your home was furnished like one of the old worlds catalogues that you almost could find in some places. Obviously not a lot of people were picking those up; more than likely you’d see more people scavenge for food or books. 

Speaking about books, Abby could have sworn she saw you have a bookshelf full of something… familiar but not quite.. normal for books that she would usually see. This whole situation was not normal. You apparently were not normal. In fact you were probably better in status for the village.. To which Abby had no knowledge of because the both of you don’t talk about this kind of stuff—– hell if she knew from the mountains and back you could be some kind of.. Whatever you were. It was weird, this is weird, you having all of this was weird.  As she stared behind you, as you curved your lip, thinking the best way to say.. With whatever you were pondering on, but forget that , you had had a fucking knife set, like a good one for cooking. ( She hoped). The kitchen was just… beyond the expectations Abby had before,  It was better than hers, before– burning it down, of course   

The longer you took to speak the more Abby became more in her head about: this house, this kitchen, your attitude…. Right..your attitude, this new too good for Abby to be in your space attitude?

Abby immediately gave fuel to her furnace of a mind.  Ah, she doesn’t want me to ruin her little set up she has. Wow.. I mean you burn one house and– well. Fuck I didn’t make them do this?

Tons of gasoline had just spilled all over the furnace. 

ARE they really that uppity that– I can’t even not be expected to damage their goods.. I mean.. It’s  not…. Tha—at great– oh who am I kidding I would have killed for this back when… well.. Yeah I probably would have.. 

And just like that a switch went off for Abby as well, that furnace was ready to explode, thinking she was being perceived in a bad light, and the thoughts that climbed on her as if she was the tiniest mountain, and laid putrid virus bringing fungus.  She felt disgusted with herself, with you, and this over the top house… 

She hated this, and you know what? Seeing how you’re taking so long to just fucking say shes a fuck up, is pissing her off even more so why doesn’t she just rip the bandaid off instead?

“You mad at me or something?”  She confronted, her face twisted with frustration, laced with abashment.

You popped your head back up to look straight at her, taking a step back. You could feel how angry she was steadily becoming.. You thought maybe she just–  needs some time to understand that some things are different for you at your house. On top of that… You actually were mad at her, you just didn’t know how to say it. Without.. Telling her too much. 

“Abby.. I- .. “  You balled your fist for only just a second, then wiping your hands on your pants, soothing yourself, before you popped your bubbles of words.

“I gotta take a shower. Please, –” A second mester of a pause, before sighing out a breath.

“Don’t touch anything, Kay?” your voice swaddled her brain, there you go, back to the person she knows, the person Abby grew fond of, but at this point, she barely knew you anyway. Why trust this is how you are now? When you’ll be different later, or the next second, who knows. 

“Hey, I didn’t ask for this shit either- -okay?” she grumbled, only to receive a petty response, you sucking your teeth as you walked away from her, retreating to your bathroom on quick feet.

 Great, I just can’t stop.. Messing up. I made her run away.. To the bathroom, now she’s gonna treat me even more differently, like I’m the psycho in her house, trespassing her shit! FUCK!

Meanwhile, you're in the bathroom clutching at your chest, sliding down the wooden door. Your heart raced so fast it mirrored a woodpecker, poking at your rib cage. 

Abby.. is in my fucking house, holy shit… holy fuck?! Why the fuck would they set me up like this?! I can’t have her in my house.. I already was trying my best to be normal around her. Now… she’s in my kitchen. Sitting on my barstool.. 

Damn did I even clean today?

You were too busy gay panicking in the 4 walls of a room to even think why you were mad in the first place. It was too much. You’ve slowly been building a friendship with her as stated before. Did you expect these feelings to expand, of course not. Abby was new, and different, and a little scary, but you liked that! Everyone in your Village was okay, but not okay. And Abby —definitely peeked your interest to more than JUST an okay. At first, it was bumpy, awkward; You would often see Abby take a few steps back away from you, or even the conversations would be surface level, and at that point– in your mind at the time you cleared out the blossoming friendship. You hate vague conversations, or more like people pleaser convo’s. Saying all the things that anyone else would say or like to hear; tip-toeing around invisible non-existent mines. All for you to just sigh then give out a soft “yeah, that is cool”. You were already used to that here in the village. It was dragged out and tired. You had enough, and confessed to her  “I cannot keep having these conversations with you anymore. I understand that you’re new, but.. Me personally. I cannot fathom myself speaking to another person who just wants clean responses.”

“Clean responses?” she parroted, a question that knitted her brows together

“Yes! Clean responses. I can’t see myself, being friends with someone who is too afraid to speak to me like a real person. I mean c’mon Abby, I only know your name. I don’t know you other than that..”

“Yeah, you know what..? This is bullshit.”

“I agree, so let’s just sto-”

“I used to be a part of the fireflies…”  and after that she would bread crumb information about her, and it was enough. You understood that Abby was truly different, an entire backstory she can’t even speak casually about. And you were willing to wait, as long as she just continue being herself.

-

You came back from upstairs, quick on your feet, the thumps going on in your house could only be your footsteps. When Abby swerved her attention towards you, her cheeks became appled, delicious red apples took form in her cheeks. You were in a tank top, your tits bounced with every step, and shorts, nicely fitted, and could make many take a large gulp as Abby just did, her eyes scattered around your physique, not knowing where to exactly land. Your nipples appeared bitten by the cold or.. Silken with arousal… Who knows. But, what Abby knows, is that you just got out of the shower. Your split ends sticking to parts of your face, the glow of your skin marveling in her eyes. Once again blinking twice to cut the entrancing spell of a hold you just had her under. Her heart raced, and her mind jumbled with thoughts on why she’s becoming flustered from just seeing you in your relaxed state. She has seen Mel, and many of past friends that came and went in the same attire. Why are you different?    

 A quick adventure to get, a piece of paper, and a pencil. You took notice of Abby’s curled hand, assuming she is still upset, even after taking a break between each other. Which prompts you to remember all over again why you were pissed at Abby in the first place.

 A groan milked out of your throat, pouring over to Abby, she took heed to your noise. Her shoulders tensed, and wrinkles molded on her forehead by her bushy brows.

You slam down a piece of paper and pencil.

“What is this?“  Abby wondered, darting her eyes straight to the piece of paper.

“Write a bucket list” 

“Huh?” 

“Write. A. Bucket. List” , your voice was molten with frustration, your voice also hinted rigged from the shake of your hands. Your eyes glossy from fighting back tears out of the heavy amounts of whiplashes of emotions you’ve been put through for the past week. 

“You know, you try to hide it even though I can see through all of this shit. You think you can just up and leave off of the face of the earth? Lev needs you, and I-” 

“--I don’t think you want to be in that kind of situation again..” you said, tugging on a loose string from your shorts, tending to it, like it’s something interesting. But in reality you can’t seem to look Abby directly in her eyes at the moment. 

She nods slowly with a soured lip, letting that comment marinate in her mind. Abby didn’t intend to take her life that day, nor did she even notice that her fate almost ended as swift as stepping on a cigarette. Her attention dragged from the piece of paper, to the counter, then finally to you. She could tell you were truly upset with her. Not because of the thought of her taking her life.. But, not caring about it to a point that she put herself in danger. The danger scared you, and it most definitely scared Abby, she doesn’t want to die. Maybe wallow in sadness with guilt, but dying? That’s her worst nightmare (literally). 

“Write a damn bucket list before you croak”  Abby ruminated on this proposal… it was the weirdest suggestion she’d ever seen but.. what is even normal nowadays? In actuality maybe this could help actually see her life is more precious and want to keep going without being lost on what to do next. It’ll keep her busy, keep her sane, she’d hope.

- 

You both decided to sit down and really speak about the issue at hand. Abby felt it was important to discuss these things with you. Regardless, it was heavy. She obviously didn’t tell you everything, but she did let you know: She’s going through a lot. She said her past was  very unsettling, hoping you can understand that these parts of her are..not too much for you. She was vague about some things, yet you understood. You understood that if she was not ready to talk, then she’s not ready. Her forcing herself wouldn’t be the right thing to do. And you forcing her would be down right throat ripping. So, you kept your head high, nodded and told her. 

“I’m ready whenever you are ready. And when you are, don’t hold back. I can take it.”

The way Abby’s eyes glinted in the light, you could tell she wanted to burst into tears right then and there. Those words, little as they are to some, but big as planets for her.  Yet, she held it in by biting her lip – 

hard.

Moments past as you both tried to get a feel for each other with conversations about the counsel meeting, and talking a little shit about how the jury wouldn’t stop gossiping  than judging a verdict. It felt freeing having to just treat each other as friends again, the fear of taking several steps back only faded away with each smile shared, and poke at how you got so serious to save her and Lev’d family. Though, even Abby can’t deny that, it was sweet on how you stepped in for them.

“Also… since your house has been.. Deleted–”

She scoffed through her nose  at that line,  shaking her head. “uh-huh”

“You should sleep in my bed from now on.”

As soon as you said that, her hypothetical tail wagged so hard, her eyes went round, her cheeks bloomed roses, and yours bloomed various flowers right back. “I- i WAIT! I meant um. I meant uhh- I m-meant y-you can sleep there.. By yourself! I mean yeah..” 

“Oh..” her words trail off, as her eyes shot down to the floor, like a nervous tick she rubbed the back of her neck, swiping off any lingering thought. She sounded as if disappointed. You may have caught it but swung that inkling of a maybe back to the trash. In denial that it was just something else. No way Abby would be thinking about cuddling you in bed right? … right?

“Actually– I’m okay with sleeping on the couch.” Her fingers intertwined with each other, not knowing what to do with her hands.

“Oh come on, Abby” You whined, rolling your eyes. Here she goes again trying not to be in the way, and you only trying to make sure your guest is comfortable. Besides, one day she’s going to have to switch with you, giving the 4-6 month repairs which is highly unlikely. The council is definitely going to just move her into another house, most likely the cleared space ones, after  the infected are carved out of those zones. Not only that but, your proposition to the council was genuine, you do have a lower space below your house for Lev, just lev.. For the rest of your house… It's mostly occupied. You didn’t think you’d ever have to invest in 2 guest bedrooms, 1 yes but 2? This is going to be interesting. 

“No– noo… You come on.”  Abby replied, with a playful push to your side, and you pushing right back, snickering out loud. 

“I’m in your.. Fancy ass house, because I fucked around and obviously found out. You already didn’t want to house me while.. Y'know, babysitting me until I’m good.. Up here” She points at her head. “I’m not going to take your bed too.. So— don’t even worry about it”

“Ab-” You tried to explain that’s not exactly what you meant, you wanted to tell her: The council could have taken you more seriously if I reminded them that you are a grown capable person, and it came out that way so they’d see that it’s not fair to you or to me, to be pushed together like this. 

“Nope. Mm-mm” she shook her head pointing a finger that hovered your warm supple lips “We’re not arguing over this. Take your bed, keep it, I’m taking the couch. ‘Kay?” Her voice was so stern.. And sooooo hot, god, how you wished she’d get in real close to your ears and talk to you like that all day. Voice so addicting you could swear that angels played the harp everytime she shared a word. 

“Ahem, Well okay. Fine. I will cease my.. Insistence about you sleeping in my bed.”

“Good” Her smirk, showed some teeth, and damn you were getting hotter by the second, and not from just the hot weather. “O-Okay, I’m gonna… yeah I’m gonna go to bed now. Covers, pillows, anything you need.. Is in the closet in the hallway, right around the corner straight down away from the kitchen”

“Got it. Sweet dreams” 

Fuck you wanted to melt like frosty the snowman. 

“Mhm!” your response was high pitched and you quickly scurried away, up to your room, which in fact didn’t help Abby. Your butt looked so good in those shorts, your ass quaked from how fast you walked away. She  shook her head again, blinking twice. Maybe I'm just hot.. It has been a very hot day today…

-

A bird tapped on your window, waking you up, with tired sleepy eyes you stretched within your bed already knowing who sent this. You squinted at the bird's leg from afar, a small rolled up piece of paper attached to it. You took a deep breath, and sighed, getting out of your comfy covers, sauntering towards your window to open it. Sadly there was no cool breeze that smacked you in the face for tonight, just a bunch of hot air blown into your eyes, nearly drying them out. You carefully tweeted to the bird to come closer to you, the bird listened to your call, pidgeting its way to you,”Such a good bird, come on.”  you cooed, until it stood in your hands. Taking the wrapped piece of papers showing a yellow circle, your eyes bulged at the color.  “Okay fly on home,” There was no time to alert back with your usual signature, only time to act immediately. Lots of mucking about around your house, stirring  Abby while sleeping, it was like 4AM, and a loud shut from the door startled Abby, but I guess this is just another thing she has to get used to.  You would never do this for anything else but that letter was plastered on your forehead, before caring about anyone's comfort.

Where were you going though at such a random time of the day? When will you be back? Did you think Abby just wouldn’t notice you leaving the house? Is everything okay? Or are you trying to be petty?

These questions infected her brain, over and over again.

I wonder what her room looks like..

This thought came out of nowhere, like a driveby just to directly shoot into her cerebrum. Her eyes lingered on the staircase,only cascaded by moonlight, hitting each step like it was calling her to make a choice. It was crazy, why would she even think this is something  she should explore, this ridiculous thought. However, this thought was like a song you couldn’t get out of your head no matter how many times you tried to divert from it. Abby's pink muscle gliding over her quivered bottom lip. It’s a stupid idea..  She couldn’t keep herself laid down on her back anymore, she needed to sit up. Laying down only gave her pins and needles with these stained thoughts.

Once I cross this line I can’t go back..

She slouched, forearms on her knees, still not removing her eyes off of your staircase, her mind replayed you walking upstairs before going to bed. Her breath became unsteady, the house was filled with your scent which made things even worse for her. She wishes she could hate your scent, but it’s got her wrapped around a golden finger. Her mind is full of you, her nose is familiar with you, every part of her is being attacked by you. And you weren’t even there.  Her foot tapped against your beige carpet, she interlocked her fingers, fiddling her thumbs together. 

Her jaw twitched, the more she ruminated on these thoughts. Just take a quick peek. No harm in just a quick one. No- no.. I should not invade her space, I've done enough of that.

What if she has secrets too..?

What IF she has secrets too.. ?

What if….?

The resolve was just as easy as a slice of iron with a plastic knife, In other news, Abby obviously picked being nosey over being respectful. She had to know if she was in danger of someone that was more than what she assumed. I mean that’s what she kept telling herself with each heavy step up those stairs that she kept having eye sex with. 

Sneaking off with light steps, upwards the stairs she went. Opening doors, upon doors, in search of your room, and boom. She finds it. “Let’s see who you really are…” she lets out to herself, as she slides a finger across your furniture, until it hits a dresser. “ People always hide stuff in there dressers, especially how Manny used t-” 

Tight lipped she became, sighing deeply through her nose before opening your drawers, digging deep within your clothes. First drawer, nothing but shirts, the next pants, then.. Granted how organized you were she’d expect “Yup panties… really.. Cute ones? Huh.. oh. Some lacey ones wow! Someone’s getting freaky.” 

She digs through it, feeling a paper like substance, she nods with a smile. “ found it.” 

She tried telling herself that if there is nothing to prove that you are dangerous then.. She just wanted something to tease you with, or proof that you weren’t as perfect as she thought. To prove you're not really someone that she can trust. She holds the thin piece objects in between her fingers, lifts it up with a tight hold, and… to her surprise.. a photo of you.. in 

Poses and lingerie and some nud- 

She stuffs them back into the drawer. Pink cheeks, and jaw dropped to hell. All she found out is that: “I need to mind my business sometimes…” She comments aloud to herself.Placing everything back with her good memory, cursed or a blessing ? She has no idea which one is the answer, as she slowly pushes your drawers back into their rightful places. Careening out of your room, and stalking down the stairs. But before laying back down on the couch to drift off to sleep once again.. Mostly too forget about what just transpired. Her eyes shifted to the paper and pencil you’ve left on the counter. Guilt mounted her face, for two reasons, and for those very reasons she had to remove it. 

-

Heavy footing came entering the door, it was you lumbering about, tired from the business you had to handle, more like demands that needed to be made. “Sorry about that, I know I woke you up.. “ you had started off but no response, now you know full and damn well you shut that door hard after coming to your senses, you expected her to react with worry or irritation but no response was not on your bingo card. 

“Abby?” you called out to her but was interrupted by a loud snore, your attention whipped to her, sleeping with her tummy out, hand pressed against it, hiding her belly button. Sleep on her face, looks good. You’ve never seen her relaxed before, and it’s– peaceful.  You noticed there's no blanket on her, so, you grab one, and lay it upon her. And as soon as you turn around, so does she, knowing  from the noise she made, shifting herself around to face her back towards you.  Ignorance befallen you, not knowing Abby.. hasn’t been able to relax in quite some time, not even guessing twice that she was awake the whole time. Her heart never ceased racing, not from hiding from you catching her awake. No.. The fact she can’t rid her thoughts of you in those poses, in that attire, the face you had.. One of desire. 

-

Birds chirped, dogs barked, and of course someone is mowing their lawn in the beaming hot sun. Abby stirred, and rolled her shoulder around, tightening the cover over her body. There was a groan that couldn’t bear to be stuck in her throat, growling out a moan. A line of yellowed light streaked over her face, she subconsciously rubbed her forehead, and eyes, as if she could remove it off of her. 

“Fine, fine, forget it— -I’m getting up.”  She mumbled to herself, toned hushed for only her to hear, grabbing an edge of the couch  to help her rise up. She sat there, on your couch, manspreading, slouched, head hung downwards. Abby did not feel like getting up at all. The last thing she felt like doing was roaming around in an unfamiliar setting, only getting 3 hours of sleep. Partly from her secret mission, seeing you in such a risque … set, and the other, trauma. Though she craves it, she cannot risk having another smoke session with herself after last time. Pretty sure, you’d get on her ass for doing it again, and in your home no less.

With no noise in the house currently, it is safe to assume that you’re sleeping peacefully in your snuggled up bedroom, from Abby’s recollection, you had these gray sheets, fluffy pillows, some regular knitted blankets, and some silk pillowcases. Not to mention  a double black door that she could only guess is your extra closet full of who knows what. She’s not going to try and find out again, well.. Not the way she would have.. At first. 

“I don’t even think I ever dressed up for Owen like tha– I gotta stop thinking about that shit.” 

Her ears perked up as soon as she heard a yawn, and there you were. Right across from her, hair a mess, a piece of your tank top strap fallen over your shoulder, tits.. very.. cleavagy.. Fuck, you were just sitting there as if you weren’t in company. She even spotted a mole on your right tit-

“Stop thinking about what?” you asked with a dragged out yawn, as Abby stared up at you, your nipple still protruding through that thin fabric,”Stop.. Stop thinking about  my— my joints. M-my blunts.” She creates a half truth and half lie on the spot. Your nose scrunched at the mention of her brown leafed escape. “Yea—h not gonna happen Abby. You are officially taking a break from that.”  

“You’re right, don’t want me burning down your house too right?”

“N-no? That’s not what I mea-” You staggered to hold on to any sentence that would come out, only rushed and clumsy, you stood up as if you could physically stop her mind from going to a place you don’t mean to create in her world.

“No I get it, I fucked up. So.. y’know, don’t worry about it”

“Abby…” you said softly, like she’ll runaway if you make any sudden movements, so instead you moved slow and precise, taking a seat on the armrest of the couch, crossing your leg over the other. Near her but not suffocating her. Okay, you might be trying to come off as gentle but for Abby… in here scattered mind of multiple projections about you, definitely mostly from those pictures that she had no business gawking at. To her, you might as well shoot her with multiple memories of how you are just dripping with natural charm. Seeing you like this, straight out of bed should not make someone yearn this bad. You were like Eve's apple, close to touch, but never to be, and if  you were allowed to taste or even hold it, it still would be a sin. Fucking hell give her a break, Abby’s face was getting so hot  that even the A.C in your house couldn’t convince you she wasn’t blushing over you. But nope,  you think she’s embarrassed about some stupid ass joint that started a fire in her home. Or even embarrassed for craving one again after the fact. 

“Mm.. What?” She asks, trying her best to take interest in the floor, fake stretching her arms to block her sight from you.

“Weed– can enhance your initial emotion.” 

“Excuse me but.. Huh?”  Her eyes ticked up back to your face, it was glowing, regardless of your dark circles under your eyes from whatever you were doing last night, it still couldn’t falter any beauty you had in your face. Distraction had to be your middle name.  Please.. If there is a god.. Help me focus on this conversation.

“When you smoke, people say, get in the right headspace before doing so. You–”

Okay.. that– ok God, has a funny way for answering that..  She gripped on her pants leg, giving you slow nods that she’s ready to hear for you to finish, but is she really ready?

“I wasn’t in the right headspace..” Abby finished the sentence before those words dribbled down your tongue. No– She’s not ready, not ready to hear it from you.

She takes a minute to process these pieces you gave her to put together.

“Get dressed, we’re gonna do something.”  You said with a clap of your hand a lazy grin, you don’t want Abby to think about that, but she has every right to know about what weed can do and can’t do. You don’t care if she does smoke, but not for the reason she’s puffing out though.

Abby quirked an eyebrow at the sudden task. What you have in mind could be the pick me up that Abby should need. It’s the very thing that helped you be able to maneuver around with the requirements of your skills, has asked of you.  Of course, if she chooses to back out of this, then so be it, there’s nothing you can do until you can spot something that she enjoys.  And maybe something you both can enjoy together, to remove all of this tension, unwanted tension that started in the first place. You wouldn’t have guessed that the ice would have to be broken once more, though it’s too late now. 

Abby was just about to turn her heel and move on, but before she got dressed, she stood up from the couch, walking back to you. “This is going to bother me if I don’t fix this now.” 

“Hm?”

She fixed the hanging strap of your tank top, back over to your shoulder, and only a bit of her finger tips grazed it, your brain permanently taking a note that her hands are calloused, rough, her momentarily touch  felt good for only a second before withering away. Your heart ached from how quick a single touch can leave you. You tell yourself just suppress it.. Push that feeling all the way down.

-

You both changed, walking outside with a brisk air from the summer's morning, nipping at your skin, the weather was truly weird in this area of the world, at one time its hot as hell itself, then cool the next. luckily you wore a pair of sweats, a long sleeved shirt, and a pair of some old yet good sneakers, while Abby wore something you whipped up together ( more like she insisted on wearing vs what you picked out)  A muscle tee, Shorts, with black leggings, she chose to keep wearing the same shoes she had on before, a good pair that hasn’t failed her since moving into the village.  She followed your lead toward another garage? House like place… Abby figured this was like an unused building for someone to move in  or, maybe a public building for the community. Apparently not.. This was another building that you owned. Abby couldn’t take it anymore, the festering question on why and how the hell did you even acquire a majority of these items, titles, and more?

“What the hell do you even do?” She let out, stepping in front of you cutting off your path towards the buildings, the crunch of pebbled rocks under her feet. There was clearly a pathway connected to your house to the next building. Doubt mounted your face, you took another step towards her expecting she’d move out the way. Abby didn’t move. She wouldn’t not until she gets some answers, and she better get them today.

“Now what is it?” you inquired, shrugging your shoulders, and a hand rest on your hip. Your keys jingled in your free hand.

“This.. life of yours, this comfort, the big house?! You know, how? Why, for what? Do you do hardcore missions or..?”

She was exaggerating her movements, gesturing back to the house, and to the glassed building, It was kind of funny. Seeing her move around like she was playing charades. When she mentioned the hardcore missions, it perked your eyebrows. That was fast of her to catch on. Maybe too fast… You pondered if she possibly went into your room and saw that  piece of paper, but according to you checking twice, it seemed like everything in there was never tampered.

“Ah–, “

“What gave it away?”

“Everything.” She replied with a hand on her hip.

“Well, I do not do hardcore missions… anymore. I’ll just cut right to the chase, and I can’t answer all of your questions right now but I will tell you this. I  can make poisons, and I put up a pretty good fight.”

“Poisons..” She parroted letting that statement simmer in her mind. You nodded, folding your arms as you went on to explain further.

“The problem is that I try to intertwine both skills together, and that gets me in trouble.”

Her brow twitched at the mention of you possibly being danger, Abby couldn’t even imagine you hurting a fly. Emotionally? Hell yes, but physically? Come on now.  “Trouble like how? You purposefully put yourself in danger or just happen to be in places at the wrong time?”

“Eh, no–” you answer with puckered lips, you place a hand on your chest, opening your mouth to speak again.

“Me being able to make and decipher poisons is reliable, and if people were to find out that I’m the village's master key— then I would be kidnapped… or killed for this knowledge.” And it’s not like no one can acquire this knowledge, but it's the fact that you would even try to dabble in something so dangerous. It’s too risky for a lot of people to try. So they don’t, and probably don’t want anyone walking around with such dangerous information, especially in today's world.

“Oh” Abby faced dropped just like the oh that slipped from her lips. “Oh indeed” you said with a nod, moving around her, continuing your walk towards the building. Abby, faced the back of your head, watching you unlock the door as you continued speaking.

“For my efforts, knowledge, and more I have been gifted many things as thanks for keeping the village safe as long as I have”

“How lon-”

“17” you interrupted, admitting you’ve been at this poison game since 17. That’s kinda rough finding out you had to grow so fast, it kind of reminds her of Lev. They’re so many things she wishes she could protect him from, to even have a bit of innocence within him. That’s exactly why she let him hang out with his friend.

“I’m 24 nearing 25 now”

“Oh, that's so young..” 

“You figured me older?”

“I… Yeah at least 29.. Not from the looks, but the amount of time it should have taken to make your house..Well– houses–”  They mirror grand, as if you took time and major effort just so it can look normal. There’s no physical evidence of worry or doubt that the house wouldn’t last, in fact the house appears to have a promise that it will continue standing.

“I mean you’re like a year older than me..”

“Mhm,” 

The conversation fell silent, as you both entered this gym, Abby was amazed that you had all of this to yourself. Then again.. Is she sure that this is only from being able to make poisons, and identify them. She knows this is a fucked up thought, however thinking back to those photos.. Were you doing more than you led on?

“What else you got in that pretty little head of yours?” Abby meant this as a tease but, when it came out, her ears were hot, and yours mimicked the fire. 

“Uh.. Pretty.. Thanks. Um.. wow.. Okay..”

“Where do you wanna start?” you asked, passing her a water bottle, Abby catching it with ease.

“All of it..” 

You both talked as you stretched together before exercising: about how long you’ve studied poisons, herbs, different things and such picked up along the journey it took to get to this village. Abby shares that she knows how to craft some things for infected, or even supplies in case of high risk emergencies. You take notice how her shoulders dropped talking about infected versus people, this is another skill that you have picked up along the way. Of course, in this day in age, you must understand body language, charisma, and a personal skill that you can gradually upgrade. Your eyes were gravitating to her scars on her arm,  you hadn’t noticed that there’s so many on her back, her shoulders, usually in the place of this situation you’d trace those scars. You would have been nursing her until her skin came back to its original form, even if it was only a bit. 

As you both prepared yourselves for more stretches, you found it a bit funny that some of the flexible stretches were hard for Abby, given her physique she should have no problem. That hinted for you to understand that your previous theory of her being more on the muscle mass side, to be more true as she struggled to put a leg over her head, but as with you, you’ve done it without much effort. Abby was amazed, and a little nauseous that you could bend in ways that she didn’t even know humans could. Until, you had  put both of your legs behind your head, you hadn’t notice but she could see you fully display yourself to her… Your pretty pussy formed perfectly under those sweats.. She took a big gulp that you mistaken for her to be quite shocked that you chose this position. 

“Cat got your tongue?” 

“ H-huh, uh.. You know lets, stop stretching and um, actually get started with whatever.. Yeah?”

Her cheeks were flushed, and her wording tripped and fell , You nodded in agreement. 

“You said you put up a good fight.. Prove it” Abby challenged, this was something she knew that would force her out of her thoughts, and if you both exercise with each other instead of individually, Abby wouldn’t struggle completing her reps with you in the same room. Getting out of your complex position, you stood up, stretching your limbs, cracking your arms. “Lets begin” you told her, and she gave you a quick nod.

Both of you circled each other, mirroring two hawks circling one another, sizing each other up. Anything that was friendly has left the door, your eyes became focused with each breath you took, as the same with Abby. For as long as you knew Abby was like this hermit that would only come out if Lev begged her, or she felt she needed to get some air from her old house, the assessment was easy for you to see how to make this match quick and easy. The hard part was a single question: is Abby easy to take down? 

You sent a playful smirk, try getting into her head maybe? 

Only to receive a click from her mouth, giving you a wink, so nope… getting into her head was definitely not ideal.. Not from the way your ears became inflamed with something fierce, and you can’t blame the heat outside for this. No.. she’ll find out everything if she’s going to be this close to you. 

As light as as you were on your feet,  Abby didn’t anticipate how fast you could be, let alone being able to get behind her blind spot, but of course Abby is sharp when it come to these things, being apart of the fireflies, and WLF, she’s had plenty of time to understand how to block this attack  yet-

You manage to lock your arm under her armpit, a strong grip? A strong grip indeed, you may not look it but you’ve done your own studying beyond poisons. You understand that you must over power her.. Use her weight against her, throw her off her game quick and fast.  A gasp leaves from Abby’s supple lips, not only from shock but the flash back with that girl, that scrawny girl that followed her all the way to the driest of places. Abby was going through currents of multiple waves back and forth of her mind as you proceeded, swiping your foot on the blue mat connecting the back of her leg, her balance no longer strong and still, launching her on her back. A  thud echoed, and silence soon followed.  A beat passed, and grumbles came from under you, A scowled face Abby was met with your eyes, colder than you're used to.. “Lucky”  she spat out like venom, under her breath, “Lucky or am I just that good?”  you replied leaning closer to her, smug face and all.

Abby forced a laugh out, pushing your face out of hers, but snatching it back  when she felt your lips on her fingers.. “ Just. Luck-key.” Abby was pissed. Her ass being handed to her so many times, her veins on her arms pulsed, as she gripped hard, nails digging into her skin, her fist ached to punch something. I want my control back. 

Not only did she want that but she is tired of you coming up in her thoughts so much, and that person, the reminder of her mistakes, all of it came back to her. It was too much for her to handle right now. It’s either she keeps fighting to regain her control or her downfall. She knew her body isn’t the same as it once was, she knew she used to be a full blown tank with how her assets of a body plowed through people bigger than you. This was just embarrassing, and losing a simple sparring with some girl she only met a few months ago, Absolutely not. Especially not the person who finds it embarrassing that they have to take care of a grown woman, is what Abby tells herself, only to get even more enraged.

“Again.” She ordered.

“Abby.. we’re just sparring no hard feelings..”

“Yeah sure whatever, Again”

You saw her as something else right then and there, determination, and sizzling rage. Maybe the adrenaline will help her? Or… will it only make her lose again. You didn’t wanna see how she’d react if she’d lose however, her little pout right now is just too adorable. And to be able to know that Abby, this lone wolf, is just a competitive pouty faced girl— kinda worth it.  “Alright, you asked for th-”

She rolled her neck cracking it, with a satisfying pop, that sent shivers down your back.”Just fucking, square up..” She snapped, her tone low and rumbled, you bit your lip at the shift in her voice. It was kinda scary.. Yet, you stood your ground, centering yourself, waiting for her to make the first move. Her chest rose and fell with every fired breath she took.

Round after round you kept mopping the floor with her, beads of sweat drenched the both of you. Of course, you didn’t actually want to go this far, but Abby could tell that you were going easy on her, which would lead her to being a little more hot headed, until you gave in and fully gave her your strength. For Abby, she was mind boggled that she kept losing, she had no idea how out of shape she’s become, and it irk the hell out of her.  It was hard for her to see you as you… You slowly turned into the images she long thought she had buried, yet they're all coming back up like guizers. That fucking brunette.. 

“Should have got rid of you… that day” She stated under her breath, it threw you off, you could barely hear her, but you could tell something was off about Abby. Something strange.  She beelined towards you faster, coming at you like a full force one manned army, throwing wild punches, punches that you found easy to catch now harder, uncontrolled, unpredictable. Blocking her was impossible. You had to stop this, wrapping around her lifting one of your legs to add some needed weight, falling with a loud bang to the floor. Her landing on top of you, was too fucking close for you to hide rapid heart beats. Both of you groaning from the impact, though Abby refuses to lose, she holds onto you like a damn rattlesnake, squeezing you hard within her arms and legs. With barely any strength left you put your all in into one swift move by picking her up slightly gaining your fierce return to be back on top. Rising up, putting more weight onto Abby,that she has no choice but to react instinctively to leg go of you-- for only a second to free yourself from her ached grip. Only her arms break from the hold, her legs still tight on you like a trapped iron cage.  She’s isolating you from getting any leverage from this round. The hell even happened before? Was she trying to tire you out? To wait to pull this move out on you? 

Fuck it at this point. Abby’s mumbling to herself, you’re exhausted, this fight has been long overdue to just end. You catch a moment of vulnerability, a flash in her eyes that said  ‘I want to stop’ and you knew from just arguing with her from earlier, the insistent ‘ i’m fines’ from the hospital.Your mind focused on that inkling of passage of who Abby really is, a person who doesn’t give up, and does not want people to worry about her, regardless if she's truly suffering. You had to make her stop. Knowing she smokes only gives you another advantage. You put all your strength into separating her legs from you, while pinning both of her hands above her head. Using your free arm to press into a muscle that can’t handle pressure against it, a groan escaped Abby’s lips, she tried to hang on regardless of how painful it was, so you pressed deeper. You didn’t want to do this, but something is not right, and it had to stop now. Her pained leg lost it’s grip and you acted fast as a animal in the savanna. Your eyes were so focus and zoned in on a quick maneuver. This wasn’t to win anymore. You place your knee on her stomach until she fully stops floundering around.  Tapping your leg 3 times, you remove yourself off of her, getting up and looking down at her. 

Her chest rising and falling. Face red and frustrated.  

“Next time creed, you just might get me.” 

You offer a hand but she smacks it away “I can at least help myself.” 

-

Abby swishes her hand in the tub, checking the temperature before getting in. Her muscles are sore, so sore that she’s amazed you have her aching like this. Usually a workout like that wouldn’t affect her like that. She turns on her heal to face the mirror, observing her physique. It’s been a while since she’s checked herself out, and boy… is she upset. Like yes she knows she looks somewhat good, but.. She grew accustomed to the body she had before. It was like a natural shield for her, a confident boost for not only around people, but around the infected. She’s done some kind of soul searching, understanding that she built that body out of rage, out of… obsession. But, now she’s pissed that she got her ass handed by you. And you’re nowhere near how her previous body was built, nor like those really built seraphites. You knocked her ass down, with strength and logic. She could tell you have a good eye for seeing through people, even through fighting. That’s dangerous. Really dangerous.. So dangerous that it has the corners of her mouth turned up.

You made her excited, and that is something she hasn’t felt in a while… In fact she wants to spar again, just to see if she can pick up a few things from you. Maybe even bulk up again, because if she gets her ass handed to you once more.. She just might pull her hair out. The competitive side of her eating at her like a steady starving hawk. Those memories though— she doesn’t want to think about it. She hated that she got so mixed up with what was real and what wasn’t.  Luckily it wasn’t too bad of an episode today.. She doesn’t even feel like screaming into the water like how she usually would. 

Whirling herself back around to face the tub, she takes a step in, warm and pinched slightly at her skin, then fully emerging herself in the waters, “Oh hell yes… Who cares if she’s bougie, this is nice..” Her voice echoing in the large bathroom. 

A knock at the door, signals her senses  “You forgot your towel..” you said in a meeked tone, “oh yeah? Hand it to me.” 

You slowly opened the door, as it creaked as loud as your heart was beating against your cage. Trying your best not to fully come in, trying– to hand her the towel, yet… it’s barely reaching her.

“Um.. You can come in, you know?” Abby reassured, and your cheeks got hotter by the second, but you sucked it up and pushed through, regardless of how anxious you were about Abby being able to hear how hard your heart rattled. Abby faced forward to another wall, not even tempting to stare at you, of course not after that spar session. Honestly, the more she got to know you the more her heart also began starting its own rapture; thunderous weather could have confused anyone if they laid their head on Abby’s chest.  You dragged your feet over to her, trying your best to still not look, covering your eyes with your hand, however you heard a snicker. “Are you that scared of seeing me naked?” she asks,with a chuckle.

“Scared? No- no?”

“ You’re totally scared! Look at how nervous your hand is, it’s quaking”

“Shut u—p” you stretched out with a groan, laced with a high pitched whine. “Well you’re going to have to open those peepers,  I still can’t grab the towel without exposing myself”

“F-fine!” You slowly moved your hand out the way, and there it was.. Her back, even though she hasn’t gotten her full strength back, her back was toned, and scared. Old scars, you wanted to trace them just like before in your gym, gliding your touch ever so carefully, and ask her what stories do those scars hold. “Here..” 

“Thanks! Now get out you perv”

“I!? WHA? YOU! You told me that I could come-”

“I’m just fucking with out haha!” 

“

“Look at you ‘splode with sooo much passion. So embarrassed, so flustered, ha!” 

“You’re an ass hole.. “

“Yeah, and you handed me mine earlier, gotta get my lick back somehow” 

You rolled your eyes, softly laughing to yourself with her childish play thrown at you like a curve ball. You’d walk out, shutting the door behind you, pressing your back against the wooden door. “We’re gonna go grocery shopping after you’re done.”

“Alright, Give me a second” she said and you could hear the water splashing, moving with her. All you could do was imagine her bare back again, the droplets that designed it so meticulously, and not taking the shine away from her cute freckles. You’d pinch your thigh to regain some kind of composure. 

“N-no t-take your time” 

You tell her squeaked voice, as you shakily hold up a piece of paper that Abby wrote for you. Now this piece of paper was supposed to only be about her taking life into her own hands and controlling what she can. It is, but then again there’s this section she wrote for you: ‘Lev is not coming back until Sunday morning, I will explain to them what happened, do not interfere. If Lev and I will be a part of this household with you, then there’s something I need you to do… Keep an eye on him. He thinks this Village will allow him to just be able to go off on missions, sometimes he’s snuck off out of the Village to do his own thing. I could never catch him on my own. And I don’t know exactly where or what he does with his “personal” missions. Promise me by wrapping your pinky around mine, when you finish reading this.. And also,  Thanks, for.. Not ratting me out to the Council.’ If you thought Abby was going to be a handful, well you got another thing coming…. You took a deep sigh, pinching the wrinkle in between your brows. “And now,, I have an emotional, hormone raging, and I can do it myself, teen..  In my house. Great.” you let out under your breath like a secret only for you to hear. Until suddenly a creak from the door opens, and you fall right into Abby while she’s only in her towel.

Prologue||continue?->

Tags: @saturnhas82moons (let me know if you want to be tagged for the next chapter dear readers ❣️)

A/n: Hello! I hope you enjoyed the story! 💋

[frostfire425]

Image Descriptions:

First image is a screen capture of an old tumblr post sharing a “I should get a license” joke James makes in the English dub and asking how old Jessie and James are, where a user named saki-hyuuga reblogs with screen captures of Jessie and Jame's Bulbapedia pages with their ages listed as 15.

Second image is a screen capture of the edit history for Jessie's Bulbapedia page on January 9th 2014, showing one of the aforementioned edits to her age being reverted, only to be edited to 15 again about 15 minutes later.

Third and fourth images are subtitled screen captures of the aforementioned episode, where one of the Diglett Village Town Council members makes the remark “Those youngins are in their prime. I'm 120!” and Jessie responds, “That's 10 times my age!”

Fifth image is a subtitled screen capture from the aforementioned episode in Japanese, where what Jessie/Musashi in disguise says has been subtitled as, “Err... I'm 17 years old, and I work as an idol.”

Sixth and seventh images are subtitled screen captures of the original Japanese lines that were turned into the aforementioned “I should get a license” joke in English. Jessie/Musashi's dialogue is subtitled as, “Nice, Kojirou!” and James/Kojirou responds, “That's rough driving for you.”

Eighth and ninth images are subtitled screen captures from the original Japanese version of M02, where Jessie/Musashi says what is subtitled as, “Enough. Why are you talking about love-hate relationships between brats? You're 10 years too early.” and James/Kojirou chimes in with what is subtitled as “Even we still don't talk about it.”

Tenth image is a screen capture from the first video in the aforementioned The Birth Of Mewtwo playlist, which has orange text that reads, “Twenty years ago on an afternoon, this story began with Team Rocket member Miyamoto's report.”

Eleventh image is a screen capture of later in the Birth of Mewtwo playlist, showing pink text that reads, “Even when I had my cute beloved little girl, I didn't leave that place, living alone like a long distance commute.”

Twelfth image is a subtitled screen capture from the aforementioned episode, showing Jessie and James both sitting on the ground slumped against their food truck and Meowth yelling “Will you two stop sighing already, meow?!” at them.

End Image Descriptions.

“How old are Jessie and James?”

alright i’m making a masterpost because i’m so tired. these never get notes. please give this one notes. i’m going to run through every single parroted argument. i’m going to run through every thought anyone engaged in this discourse has ever had. please give me notes. not because i want clout, i’m just so tired. so many of my posts get notes. i would trade them all for this post to get notes.

How old are Team Rocket?

25. They’re 25. 

But I thought they were teenagers? Lots of people have told me they’re 15/16.

so i’ve heard! i’m pleased to tell you exactly where that comes from.

1. this post, for some reason:

i have been on tumblr for 10 years now, and i never saw anyone debating their ages before this post started circulating. as you can tell by the low res memebase screencap, it was screenshotted and reposted all across social media until it became legend.

the ages you see in this bulbapedia screencap were edited. bulbapedia has either omitted their ages entirely, or put them at 25 for reasons we’ll discuss at the end of this post. 

because i’m a petty bitch, i googled the tumblr username of the person who added that bulbapedia screencap, found what their current URL was, and searched team rocket’s names on their blog. here’s what i discovered.

OP claims it wasn’t them who edited the ages–that they just found it like this. NOT sure i buy that, because I looked into it, and right around the time this post was made (January 8th, 2014) there was a random, unprecedented edit that erroneously put their ages at 15.

this resulted in mods locking the page, because this person was relentless. they would go on team rocket’s pages every day and try to edit the ages back down. again, i can’t prove this is the same person, but these edits happened within 24 hours of them adding to that post. this is, in my professional opinion, the biggest shift i ever saw in people talking about team rocket’s ages. but there are other things people bring up…

2. “Jessie said she was a teenager!”

she does this sometimes. here are the times she does this.

- In episode 218 of the original series, Plant It Now… Diglett Later, the following exchange happens:

This would make Jessie 12. This is a joke. A running gag in the show is younger characters calling Jessie variations on ‘old lady/old bat/old hag,’ and James gets this treatment to a lesser extent. Jessie, however, is incredibly vain and obsessed with youth/beauty, so she often lies to great extent about her age. When Jessie says something like “Oh, I’m 13 years old ;3c” it is meant to carry the same feeling as “Aren’t I the most gorgeous creature walking this very Earth?” To Jessie, calling her old = calling her ugly. Calling herself young = calling herself beautiful. This trope is common with her particular anime archetype–it is more of a Japanese thing, so while I understand it being lost on american audiences, it is NOT proof of her age. 

Right after this, Meowth calls her out on it, asking her where she learned that math, and Jessie angrily threatens him. It’s a joke.

- In episode 56 of the original series, The Ultimate Test, Jessie is in disguise at a Pokemon League qualification exam. When Ash starts giving her the ‘she looks vaguely familiar’ side-eye, she panics and starts muttering information about herself aloud. I will be using the original Japanese line for this one:

This is quoted constantly as proof that Jessie is a teenager–but she is blatantly stating false information about herself here because she’s in disguise and Ash is onto her. This is a false identity she’s crafted, marked even further by “I work as an idol.” That’s an actual profession she’s talking about, one she doesn’t work. Since Japanese Idols weren’t widely unknown to westerners at the time of this dub, her dub line is simply “Age: 17. Profession: Diva.” which makes it a little harder to read that she’s lying about who she is, but she is. The information she’s stating here is that of an alias. It is not her actual age or profession.

3. You literally just posted a screencap of James saying he should get a driver’s license. 

Okay, smart guy, that’s also jokes. The joke isn’t that he’s too young to drive–the joke is that he was a runaway at five years old and had his childhood & all his milestones taken from him because he defected from his abusive family in kindergarten. Also, he’s in the mafia and he just drives his damn balloon everywhere. The joke is that he’s a criminal driving without a license. The joke is breaking the law because he’s James. Its the same as when Jessie will casually say things like “Oh, that’s a good book! I’ve been meaning to shoplift one!” (EP157)

Also, it’s a dub-only line.

“Okay, I guess I see where you’re coming from. But why are you so sure they’re 25?”

Glad you asked!

You might notice the Bulbapedia article up there says “as of M02.″ M02 is the fandom shorthand for the second pokemon movie: Pokemon the Movie: 2000. It’s referring to one scene in particular, one that had its dialogue massively changed in the dub. Here, Jessie and James are addressing Ash & co.:

The subber condensed the point of what James/Kojirou actually says here–his sentence when translated literally is more like:

Jessie: You’re ten years too early.

James: And us, your elders, are five years too late.

this is… a very Japanese expression, but because Ash & co. are 10 years old, Jessie’s basically saying “You really don’t need to be thinking this deeply about romance until you’re 20.” and James is saying “And we’re past our prime at the tender age of 25…”

Some other times this expression has been used, regrettably, is when older men are perving on the female kids in this show–they’ll say things like “I’ll look forward to you in ten years.” Gross, I know, but the point is it’s a thing people say. 20 is considered the age you’re supposed to settle down and marry. 25, especially for women, is considered the age when you’re “off the market”–you missed your window and now no one wants you.

That ties back into Jessie’s thing about youth and beauty and how other characters call her an old lady. What they’re calling her originally is usually some variation on ‘oba-san.’ This term is so widely used in anime that there’s a TVTropes page on it. An english equivalent would be rolling your eyes and sarcastically uttering ‘whatever, grandma’ or, if you really want me to one-shot kill you, ‘ok boomer.’

Another derogatory term you hear in Japan for this age is ‘Christmas Cake.’ Simply put: Delicious to a point, but no one wants it after the 25th.

Yeah.

“That line is still super vague. Their ages could still be ambiguous.”

I regret to inform you that I am very autistic and I have prepared timelines and flowcharts for you.

Allow me to introduce you to The Birth of Mewtwo, an audio drama that released alongside the first movie and was never given an english localization. TBOM (the book of mormon) was about Mewtwo’s Origins that weren’t expanded upon in the movie. But, in order to get to the bottom of Mewtwo, the story had to get to the bottom of how Team Rocket got their hands on Mew’s DNA–and that all started with a Class-A Rocket Agent known simply as ‘Miyamoto.’

if you didn’t know, she’s Jessie’s mom.

TBOM is fully translated and available to listen to in multiple parts on youtube. It opens with Giovanni placing it in the timeline:

Twenty years prior to Pokemon: The First Movie, when this radio drama is said to take place. It then goes into a flashback, where we get to see Jessie’s mom in her pursuit of Mew.

Jessie’s already been born by the time of this flashback, meaning, with 100% certainty, that Jessie is at least 20 years old.

As time passes, Miyamoto stays on her quest to find Mew. Lost in the Andes mountains, she never stops sending reports back to Rocket HQ. Every few years, they trickle back in, detailing her progress. She keeps a picture of Jessie with her, often meandering aloud about what she anticipates Jessie is doing–the milestones Jessie is hitting, the life Jessie might have that her mom was never able to see. The last report she gives says “The daughter I left behind’s an old hag by now…” the word she uses here is, again, ‘oba’–25 years old and unmarried. Again, this is Jessie’s mom. She might be stranded in the mountains with little concept of time, but it’s clear Jessie is the one thing she never truly loses sight of.

“Okay. That sure is a lot of convincing evidence about Jessie. But Team Rocket has another human person in it you’re ignoring.”

Yeah nah I was prepared for that. I actually could’ve just whipped this out at the beginning but I am feeling incredibly spicy so I wanted to lay the law down and not deal with easy arguments about my special interest tonight. Here ya go!

- In episode 87 of the Sun & Moon anime, Filling the Light With Darkness!, Necrozma places an aura across the Alola Region. This blight makes Alolans lethargic, depressed, and unmotivated. This aura also ONLY affects the adults in Alola–leaving the burden on the kids & pokemon to figure out what’s going on. Ash & everyone in his class–including some who can be argued as teenagers–are entirely unaffected. 

Of the afflicted?

“Alright, one last question…why should I care?”

Because ever since that tumblr post started circulating, it’s been Stressful as all hell to be a Rocketblogger. I know that we all had a lot of fun watching the pokemon anime when we were kids, and we probably all have a lot of shared and fond memories of it. But, weirdly enough, because of that shared joy… Pokeani is the only fandom where people who don’t even watch the show anymore will try to explain to members of the fandom what our own lore is. And a lot of the time, they won’t listen to us when we correct them on their misinformation.

The reason this matters is because Rocketbloggers still to this day get called pedophiles & perverts for drawing/writing smutty art of our funny bad people. And when we try to shut them down pulling all this evidence out, people who have seen a handful of episodes of the show but understandably don’t have the time to watch 1100 episodes will pull the doth protest too much card. It’s annoying but more than anything, it’s exhausting.

So this is a masterpost I made with my autistic superpowers. I hope that, in the future, this one gets spread around more than the one claiming them to be kids. And I hope that maybe, if you’re a rocketblogger, when someone comes in your inbox trying to explain your favourite anime to you… you can quietly link them to this post and no longer have to rehash all the arguments we’ve been rehashing for years.

Thank you for reading. Reblog to save a tired Rocketblogger’s life.

[abbyscoins]

something overwhelming, something everlasting

pairing: WLF!Abby x f!reader

content & warnings: unintentional trespasser reader turned WLF, canonical violence, slow burn romance, angst, fluff, no use of y/n, no reader description, character death, smut (18+) (to be updated)

men + minors dni

chapter rundown: work and play >:), reader’s first WLF party, mild sexual harassment, abby comes back to reader’s room??????????? :0

a/n: i love love love this chapter guys i’m ngl

word count: 3.7k

Chapter Three: Back to your room

Upon entering the kitchen just before 11:30 to begin preparing for the lunch rush, it was quiet.

‘Hey? Anyone in?’ You called out as you tied your apron around your waist.  

‘Yeah, back here!’ You heard a muffled voice call from the pantry. It sounded like Sam, a gentle giant of a man who had been quiet and reproachful for the first few weeks that you were here. You barely spoke, working in comfortable silence whenever your shifts crossed. He seemed nice enough, always well-mannered. It wasn’t until, one afternoon, while walking through the double doors with perhaps one-too-many heavy crates of vegetables, he slipped, breaking the ice of acquaintanceship between the two of you. And possibly a rib.

Flinging the greenery up in the air and in all directions, he crashed onto the linoleum, yelping as he went.

‘Oh my god! Sam!’ You exclaimed, rushing over with a hand shooting up to cover your mouth, unsure what to do.

He held up a hand, ‘I’m fine, I’m fine, nothing but a bruised ego,’ He shifted his body into an upright position, legs splayed out in front of him. ‘Ouch— and a bruised ass, apparently, fuck…’ You stopped in your tracks, making momentary eye contact. Then, you both burst out laughing. You couldn’t stop yourself; you laughed so much that you ended up on the floor, too, hands clutched over your aching stomach, tears in your eyes. You don’t know why this event triggered such a reaction from you, but it felt so good to laugh.

After helping him collect the vegetables from under the tables and triple checking he was really alright, you had been comfortable making pleasant conversation with each other for the rest of your shift. You shared embarrassing and awkward stories with one another. It was a nice, wholesome way to grow your friendship.

Sam must have been quite a bit older than you, in his late 30s, early 40s, maybe. He was married, his younger wife was a soldier, and he spoke of her often.

‘I know she’s strong, capable. So, I’m not trying to… But… you know,’

‘You miss her?’

‘Yeah! I miss her. And I worry. I know she can handle herself out there, but there’s always so many possibilities…’

‘I understand,’ you offered him a comforting smile, ‘It’s only natural to worry about the people you love.’

‘Right.’ He agreed, wiping the sweat off of his brow with a hand towel.

Just then, Polly entered the room swiftly, a low grunting sounded from her as she moved through the room. The energy shifted awkwardly; you and Sam shared a confused look as you continued peeling vegetables, and he prepared the salmon. She seemed slightly off this morning.

‘Hey, Polly,’ you tried greeting her. She slowed her pace a little, turning to you, giving you a slight huff of a returned hello.

A few minutes of awkward silence filled the air of the kitchen as everyone worked, no one knowing quite what to say with the newfound uncomfortable tension.

‘Everything alright, Pol?’ Sam attempted again, trying to sound as upbeat as possible.

‘Not really, son. This one’s got me all worked up!’

‘Me?’ you stood, slightly surprised at her finger jabbing your way out of the corner of your eye.

‘Yea, you, missy. I don’t like seein’ ya hangin’ out with all the wrong crowd. It’s not sittin’ right.’

You and Sam shared a look, unsure about how to approach this outburst.

‘Sam is our coworker, Polly… We were just chatting. But I understand if you want us to get on with working—’

‘Not ‘im! You know who!’ She huffed, exasperated, rolling her eyes and flinging her dish towel on a nearby surface.

You stood confused, wracking your brain thinking of anyone she could possibly be talking about. To your most recent knowledge, the only people you’d spoken to since the last time you saw Polly yesterday had been Sam, and Nora outside this morning.

‘How did you…? Polly what are you talking about?’

‘You know what I’m talkin’ about. I just worry about you, kid. I don’t want anyone messin’ with ya.’

‘Why would anyone be messing with me? Look Polly, I appreciate you worryi—’ She glanced at you with a cold expression filling her hazel eyes. Your stomach dropped, a feeling of discomfort washing over you.

You desperately wanted to set some boundaries, recalling the conversation at the dinner table a few weeks ago where you’d been called Polly’s ‘new project’. You had assumed it was only people judging Polly based on her strangeness. She had been nothing but helpful to you, sometimes giving you some criticism here and there, just like a manager does. But nothing so out of the blue, so out of her realm of business. Was she spying on you? The thought sent a cold shiver down your spine. You had to remind yourself that she was older, she might just be slightly confused or having a bad day. But, if it was Nora she was talking about, what did she have against her? And why was she watching you?

The shift passed slowly, awkwardly. You had been thinking about the invite from Nora, tossing the idea around in your head. You hadn’t planned to make an appearance, to be honest; you appreciated the offer, it was kind. You wanted to get to know Nora more, and you hoped you would become closer if you’d be seeing more of each other out on the track. But, you were tired, and unprepared.

Now, though, you felt an odd sense of rebellion. You didn’t want to feel like a teenager; she can’t tell me what to do, kind of stuff, but you felt a searing desire to go against what Polly said. You respected Polly, but you were your own woman. You weren’t meek and easily pliable like you know you came across when first arriving here.

Fuck it, you thought. Couldn’t hurt to show up for a little while.

As you walked up the corridor, following the small sea of people all chattering excitedly, the music slowly got louder, as did the sound of your heart in your ears. It would be fine. You would go in, see what the fuss was about, maybe see Nora and say hi, then go back up to your room and tick off the ‘be sociable’ mental to-do for the week.

When you enter the moderately crowded room, you don’t see Nora anywhere. You spend a few minutes walking around to see if you could spot her. Failing that, you then settled by the table of drinks for a while, sipping on something sweet that was being served in a bowl with a ladle, like some high school prom.

‘Hey, you want another drink?’ You turned to see a tall man, slightly wobbly on his feet, looking at you with glassy dark eyes. He had a disconcerting smirk on his dry lips as he looked you up and down, his head tilting slightly.

‘Nah, I’m good.’ You gave your response, short and direct.

‘Oh, c’mon. You’re standing here all alone, let me give you some company,’ He bargained, and you got the feeling it wasn’t an offer, but an insertion of his presence into your night.

‘Look, I’m just here to say hi to someone, alright? I don’t need your company,’ You looked him in the eye, frowning. You never had much patience for men like this, nor was your toleration getting any stronger as the years of survival dragged on. If there was one thing you hated most, it was the fact that men thought you were an easy target. You weren’t necessarily intimidating, but you could certainly hold your own, and being underestimated was a key component in the take down of quite a few people with bad intentions when you had been travelling across the country.

‘Pssh. You think you’re something special, doncha? You—’

‘Hey,’ A voice from behind you firmly stated. When you turned, Abby’s eyes were trained on him. As much as you thought her face was sweet, she looked almost mad in the dim orange glow of the room. Her eyes shone with intensity, something more than annoyance, as she stood with a hand on her hip.

‘Abby?’ The man stood up straight, facial expression dropping slightly. ‘Oh, you’re the one she’s waiting for? My bad, I didn’t—’

‘Danny,’ She interrupted, shaking her head. ‘C’mon, man, what is wrong with you?’

Danny looked away for a second, seeming embarrassed. Abby placed her hand lightly between your shoulder blades, beginning to lead you away, barely breaking her eyes away from him until she turned around.

Once you’d gotten to a quieter corner of the party, Abby let her arm drop from your back.

‘Sorry, for grabbing you like that. I didn’t mean to seem…’ She looked flustered, uncomfortable, like after the adrenaline of the situation passed, she regretted getting involved at all. One of her hands found the back of her neck in a self-comforting action, ‘Danny is a dick. I thought I should come help, but I know you didn’t need it… I’ll just—’ She shifted awkwardly, pointing a thumb in a vague direction as she turned to leave.

‘Abby, wait,’ you reached out to stop her, suddenly thinking better of touching her, and stepping back. Still, she stopped and waited for you to continue. ‘You don’t have to be sorry. Thanks for, you know, being my hero,’ You teased, giving her a gentle nudge on the arm, smiling to let her know you weren’t mad or uncomfortable with her intrusion.

Her frame softened slightly, facial muscles relaxing. It was then that you took in what she was wearing. A tight-fitted long sleeve in a shade of blue that matched her eyes, with dark belted jeans and her boots. The way the sleeves hugged her arms caused you to consciously have to refrain from biting into your bottom lip.

‘Yeah, no problem.’ She sighed slightly, looking down at the floor.

‘You look good, by the way,’ You said, ‘I mean, I like your outfit,’ You quickly added, realising you probably sounded far too forward.

‘Thanks, I didn’t know what to wear. I don’t often participate in…’ She gestured around the large hall, ‘The binge drinking sessions, I guess. Usually better things to do,’ She concluded, a slight blush blooming across her cheeks. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I get along with the others, but they can be a handful. Especially with alcohol involved.’

‘I don’t like parties,’ You sympathised, ‘I only heard about it this morning, so I thought I should at least check it out… I might head out soon,’

‘I can walk you back.’

‘I couldn’t ask you to do that—’

‘Hey, I’m offering.’ she interjected softly. She didn’t know what had come over her, whether it was the alcohol talking or the weeks of trying to get you out of her mind, only to have you claw your way back in; whichever it was, it made her disregard every self-disciplined bone in her body the second she saw you being bothered across the room. So much for letting you come to her.

‘Okay, that would be nice,’ you agreed.

On your way up to your room, you walked in comfortable silence, Abby occasionally taking two steps at a time on the stairs, waiting for you at every turn. You had the impression she was either nervous, or you just walked too slow for her.

‘Thanks,’ you smiled as you reached your door. ‘Hey, you wanna come in for a bit?’ You thought it polite to ask, even though you were certain she’d decline.

‘Sure,’ she said. ‘Just for a little, I have to be up tomorrow.’

You tried not to look surprised as you turned the key in your door, heartbeat stuttering. Abby was going to be in your room. If someone had told you that information when you woke up this morning, you would have rolled your eyes and scoffed in true sceptic fashion.

‘Welcome. Humble abode, and all that,’ You threw over your shoulder, taking your jacket off and throwing it messily on the table, kicking your boots off at the same time.

She chuckled, giving you a once over as she ventured into the room. She looked around, wandering over to the bookshelf against the wall. She saw your various trinkets on the top shelf, nosily scrutinising them, curious about the things you were collecting. You had a little pot full of cool looking stones, as well as various dried flowers, plants and herbs all tied together with a piece of frayed string. She noticed a tiny wooden carved dog figurine, about the size of her pinkie finger, hidden in the corner of the shelf. It was as if you had purposely put him there, facing the wall.

Her finger traced the books you kept on the middle shelf, her brow furrowed attentively. You watched her from the table, taking in her subtle reactions to each title she recognised. Seeing her in your space was making your mind race, and the warmth of alcohol in your system wasn’t helping.

‘I love this one,’ she picked out a battered novel, spine cracked in multiple places, suggesting it to be well-loved by you, too.

‘It’s one of my favourites,’ you beamed, ‘When I found it, I was so excited. I must have read it three times through since being here. There’s something so comforting about the sisters. God, it breaks my heart, but it’s beautiful. Young female protagonists are just— Sorry, ranting…’

When you looked up, she was looking at you, a soft smile playing on her lips.

‘No, don’t be sorry. I like that you’re passionate,’ She carefully placed the book back on the shelf. ‘Almost cried the first time I read it, so I get it,’

‘Oh, I did too,’ You laughed. ‘Like a baby.’

She smiled, drumming her hands awkwardly on the shelf, still looking around the room –taking everything in – committing your organised mess to memory.

‘Can I get you a drink?’ You offered, unsure of what to say next.

‘I’ll hate myself for it tomorrow, but yes,’

You walked over to the kitchenette, her following close behind. You reached into a cabinet, fishing around in the back for the bottle Polly had given you; it was some concoction she had been brewing bottles of for years, apparently. It tasted like shit, but it certainly did its job. You poured a couple of shot’s worth into two lowball glasses and handed her one, clinking your cups before taking a drink.

‘God—what is that?’ She grimaced, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

You laughed at her expression, ‘Something Polly makes. It’s just fermented old fruit, or something. It really is bad, though,’

Her frame stiffened at the mention of Polly, but she quickly shook it off, hoping you would put it down to the drink, if you noticed at all.

‘I should know better than to be taking drink offers from strangers in their rooms…’ She changed the subject, taking another sip and peeking out of the corner of her eye for a reaction.

‘Hey! Are you suggesting I’d drug you?! We’re not strangers… Not really,’ You feigned offence, pushing her lightly. ‘And besides, how would I even go about getting something like that? I’d have to go rummaging—'

‘Oh my god, why are you actually thinking about it?!’ She laughed, highly amused by your tangent. ‘Anyway, you couldn’t trick me like that even if you tried,’ She continued poking fun at you, turning and making her way to the living area. She seemed so comfortable. You stayed where you were for a moment, starting to wonder how this woman could be so complex. She was difficult to understand the essence of, even after being aware of her for so long. You had seen her act cold towards people, towards you. Yet when she was warm, God she was warm.

‘Are you coming?’ She paused.

‘Yeah.’ You followed her to your couch, and you both sat, you with your legs up underneath you, her with one foot planted on the ground, the other knee lazily hanging half on the chair, so she was angled facing you. It was a small couch, so you were quite close, but it didn’t bother you; you already felt so normal about interacting with her and having her here.

‘So… when you’re out there, y’know, patrolling…’

‘Oh God, work talk?’ she sighed, but she looked at you attentively, waiting for you to continue.

‘Well, I was just wondering… if you ever get scared. Out there.’ You gestured. You felt like the alcohol was impairing your ability to make conversation, but Abby didn’t seem to mind much.

‘Sure, I do. I think anyone who says they don’t is either a liar or a psychopath,’ the phrase rolled off her tongue like she’s had this conversation lot of times before. ‘But… I don’t know. It’s just something I do. Scars are always hostile, and trespassers are most of the time, too. I respect Isacc, and I think he respects me…’ she trailed off, frowning slightly, looking down at her hands.

‘And what, you think he’s like… a reasonable man?’

She cocked her eyebrow at you. ‘What kind of question is that?’

‘Well, I don’t know. It seems a little extreme to go after regular people who might just need help,’

‘Well he let you in here, didn’t he?’ She took another sip of her drink, her expression unreadable.

‘I guess so.’ You frowned. An awkward pause lingered between you.

‘You must train like crazy,’ you say, slightly changing the subject, sensing her mind was racing with unwanted thoughts at the previous the line of conversation.

‘Well, yeah, it’s tough. But I like it. You don’t do any other training? Just cardio?’ she asked curiously.

‘Nah. I keep it simple, to be honest. I know it’s never bad to get a little stronger, I just wouldn’t know where to start with all of the weights. I know how to fight, obviously…’

‘I could train you,’ she put the offer out there casually, simply. Like it was an inevitability for you both.

‘You just wanna see me embarrass myself, don’t you?’

‘Not at all. Unless you’re into that…’

You shove her lightly, a blush threatening to bloom in your face. ‘Why would you say that?’

‘Sorry. You’re just fun to tease.’ She laughed, laying back and putting her hands behind her head. Her fingers brushed something soft behind the couch cushions.

‘What’s this?’ she pulled out a small, worn stuffed animal, it resembled a lamb, or maybe a goat? She couldn’t tell due to its ragged state.

‘Oh… that’s nothing. Well, not nothing. It’s mine— my toy. Not toy, well, from when I was a kid…’ You trailed off in your tipsy state, not knowing whether to burst into laughter or tears at your flustered explanation.

You looked up at Abby, and she had her eyes on you. They were soft, fond. You noticed her blue irises ran almost honey-coloured closer to the pupil, her thick lashes perfectly framing her pretty eye shape. She had a smile spread across her face. You untensed your shoulders a little, shaking your head and laying against the pillows, smiling.

‘Don’t judge me,’ you said in a drawn out and strained voice, grinning nonetheless, poking a finger at her side.

‘Wouldn’t dream of it,’ she teased, but her eyes shone with an earnestness that made your smile falter. You studied her face a little more as a comfortable silence fell over the room. You suddenly felt extremely aware of how close you were to her. She smelled good, warm, earthy. Like pine. You felt your teeth graze your lower lip inadvertently, looking at her… she was perfect. Her mouth, her bumped nose, her build. The scars that settled themselves on different parts of her body, like they were meant to be there — lightening streaking a thunderous sky — reminders of the fight in her. Though this juxtaposed her softer features – her freckles, her otherwise smooth skin – they somehow perfectly coincided. It made her complete, it made her Abby, you thought, your hazy mind laughing at your silly drunken clichés.

‘What’s his name?’

‘…Doobie. Don’t ask,’

She looked like she struggled refraining herself from laughing, but she managed. ‘You’re definitely telling me that story one day.’

She broke eye contact, placing your stuffie back between the cushions, patting them lightly. ‘There, safe and sound.’

You felt your eyelids growing soft and sleepy as you lay curled up on the couch, watching her.

‘You tired?’ She asked, appraising your cosy position. ‘I should get going…’

‘Wait, Abby—’ You rested a hand on her forearm. She waited. A beat of silence. ‘Just…stay for a little more.’ Your cheeks burned at the unchecked vulnerability, but you couldn’t have cared less about being subtle in that moment.

She looked down at your hand, perplexed, but didn’t attempt to get up again, yet. ‘Okay.’

She sat back, laying her head on the couch cushions for a while, pondering. She enjoyed listening to your breathing grow slow and rhythmic. Your hand was warm. When she dared turn to look at you again, your eyes were fully closed, lips slightly parted. She gently took your hand off her arm and got up as slowly as she could.

‘C’mon, sleepyhead.’ She spoke softly, gently pushing her arms underneath your slumbering frame and lifting you. She angled you into her chest so that your neck didn’t move so much as to wake you, and she carried you over to your bed.

Once she placed you down and covered you with the blanket, something flared in her chest. Likened to anxiety, but difficult to unthread properly in her mind. She looked at you for a moment longer, tenderly moving away a piece of hair that had fallen over your eyes. She then stood back up to her full height, sighing lightly as she turned to leave, not looking back as she closed the door quietly behind her.  

© all work on this page belongs to abbyscoins — please do not translate, use AI on, or repost my work!

taglist: @067supremacy, @rareanduselessbird, @petrichor222, @mxmsuki, @littlefirelilly, @carolinadyke, @marvelwomenarehot0, @chuvadejaneiro, @tthoroughfare, @abigail-andersons-wife, @jenniferfigueroa ♡︎

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

Russ Ballard

[forgotmysword]

“Wild Geese” by Mary Oliver x “Dungeon Meshi” by Ryoko Kui

Inspiration under the cut<3

This was heavily (completely) inspired by “a little creature who loves you” by wtfoctogon on ao3 (@wtfoctagon/@possamble on here) and the way they write falin. The second i saw this quote i thought of falin and their story. When i asked if it would be ok to post this they said its the same quote they had in mind when writing her😂 Sadly i am not the genius i think i am, wtfoctogon is just that good at creating such a beautiful and clear picture of falin. I cant imagine there’s very many of you who haven’t, but if you like farcille and haven’t been reading this story you should drop everything and go read it right this second

[ettaberrytea]

[image description: tweet by Mr. theMoon that reads: Just saw a comedian say "If vaccines caused autism then America would have trains" and I almost spit out my drink. end id.]

[syn0vial]

my gun-loving, car guy, "i'm the straightest man i know" brother who just finished baldur's gate 3 talking about astarion:

[squoobest]

a very niche celebrity frostyfest (now on dvd~!)

[serpentface]

A braithuvi horse at rest under the close protection and watchful, scary, pale-eyed gaze of her herd's guardian, a dírgrahdain. Both are landraces developed within the Highlands. The ancestors of braithuvi (and other Highlands native horses) were brought overseas by the ancestors of the Hill Tribes, while the dogs were obtained from native livestock guardian landraces used by proto-Wardi tribes. Each have become distinct over their centuries of living in the Highlands, and dírgrahdain are have a particularly unique place in the cultural schema.

Braithuvi are a woolly horse breed (and one of many, wool horses are widespread, second only to camala in value for textiles) that are also somewhat specialized for milk production. Their meat is relatively poor (other horses are preferred), but they produce high yields of milk and thick, continuous growths of wool.

Horses are not as culturally significant as cattle to most in the Highlands, but are still highly valued animals that are critical to subsistence. Few plant-based textiles can be produced in the Highlands, and almost all in the region are made with braithuvi wool. They can eat a greater variety of forage than cattle, more efficiently converting energy intake from pastures into milk and wool. Their milk is considered to be the very best of all livestock, and is usually what is used to make the prized murre beverage.

Dogs have a very small specific place in the cultures of the Hill Tribes as utilitarian working animals (specifically for livestock and occasionally as home/village guardians), and rarely ever fill other functions. The practice of keeping dogs purely for companionship is virtually nonexistent (though affectionate bonds between people and their herding or household guard dogs will be fairly common), and their meat is considered worthless. Most dogs are not elevated within the cultural schema, and tend to be merely appreciated as useful, loyal animals. Livestock guardian dogs are an exception to this, and tend to be of more significant cultural import. They are animals that exist to protect the herds on which all subsistence depends, and thus have an elevated cultural status and roles in religion and folklore as uniquely protective entities.

Dírgrahdain are the key livestock guardian dogs in the region, and the only natively developed LGD. Their name means 'lion dog', both in reference to their maned appearance and their ability to fend off and even kill the largest of predators. The dogs are characterized by tall, long-legged builds, deep chests, a curly tail, thick hair (and a thicker winter coat), and a shaggy mane. Their bodies tend to be thinner and lankier than their fur coat suggests, but still well-muscled and powerful. Their coloration can vary wildly, but a black mask with a brown or reddish body like this is most typical. Unnerving, pale eyes are prized in these dogs, with the belief that they not only intimidate predators but are uniquely potent at fending off malicious spirits.

The dog's exclusive function is to protect livestock. They are used primarily for the defense of horses, which are small and very vulnerable to predators (lions, hyenas, king hyena, wild dogs, jackals, nechoi, and even eagles can be threats), though some dogs will usually be posted up with cattle herds to deter raiders.

Pups are most commonly born in the field among their herds. They will be carried in their master's coat while still nursing, but will be allowed to join their mother in her duties from the moment they are strong enough to follow. Dírgrahdain live with their herds day and night. Most will never see the inside of a home, and most seem to prefer it that way. They form close and protective bonds with their charges, and will thoroughly integrate themselves into the social fabric of the herd.

These dogs are not human-oriented, and will usually only form bonds with people that they have imprinted on as puppies (and will merely be cool and polite to those met later in life). They are highly aggressive towards strangers, and introductions must be done incrementally and with great care. This is desirable, as this trait makes them an excellent line of defense against livestock raids. Their loud, booming barks can alert of intruders from a great distance, and they can often successfully intimidate khait, causing some mounted raids to end in humiliating failure. Dírgrahdain are often killed in raids, either to fend off the attacking dog or to silence it before its master can be alerted. This is not outright dishonorable, but not something one will be commended for. Cattle raiding culture here values swiftness, stealth, and strategy- such smash and grab tactics are seen as brutish (and will often result in harsher retribution).

Like most LGDs, they primarily defend their herds by displays of aggression and power, using their loud bark, fearsome growl, and powerful bodies to chase and intimidate predators away without physical contact. Even so, it is necessary for all working dírgrahdain to be willing and able to physically confront predators when necessary. A well-trained, well-bonded dog will defend their herds with their very life, and is often effective in combat against even very large wild predators. Their dense ‘manes’ offer a degree of protection from wounds to the throat, and may be supplemented with spiked collars.

If a mother dog kills a predator, it is often customary to open the carcass and lead her puppies to feed on it. This is thought to teach the pups to be fearless against their enemies, and that they will grow up to be uniquely powerful and brave adults. Pups are given names upon reaching adult size, and ones who have consumed the flesh of predators will get unique names related to their mother's kill, or epithets as supplements to a given name (the exact details of this practice culturally varies). One might encounter dogs in the Highlands named things like Lionsbane, Hyena-killer, She Who Bites Jackals, Lion-Fed Shaggy (Lion-Fed being the honorable epithet, Shaggy being the dog's name, possibly given by a very small child)

The mere gaze of a dírgrahdain is said to fend off malicious spirits, and their thundering bark can scare away even the most dangerous of mountain devils. Their shed hair is needle felted into little dolls (usually into the form of dogs themselves) and placed into the cradles of infants and worn as charms by children to protect them from harm (both mundane and supernatural). Manes taken from dead dírgrahdain have uses among some of the Hill Tribes, and are typically only allowed to be used by their masters (unless recieved as a gift). The most prominent usages are being worn to fend off evil spirits and predators while traveling alone, and some traditions involve placing the manes around the necks or across the bellies of women in labor as a means of spiritual protection for mother and child during birth.

The Hill Tribes and Wardi both identify the same constellation along the ecliptic as a dog. In the case of the former, this stellar dog is identified as Mak-Urudain, a gigantic dírgrahdain with fur the color of flame and eyes as bright as stars, who is the eternal guardian of the Celestial Fields. He allows the souls of the worthy dead to pass into the afterlife and for esteemed ancestors to descend back to the land to guide the living, while preventing malicious spirits, devils, and the dishonored dead from entry.

One Bernike tale describes her attempting to fly into the Celestial Fields to steal the heavenly cattle who graze there. She took the form of a golden eagle, pretending to be an ancestor returning from a sojourn to the world of the living in order to get past the guardian hound. Mak-Urudain was not fooled for long, and led her on a long chase through the night sky before capturing her and hurling her out of the Celestial Fields.

She was never able to even touch the ground of the Fields (much less take any cattle), but had just enough time to take a single seed of heavenly grass in her beak. She returned to her mountain (missing most of her tail feathers and much of her pride) and planted the grass in her then-barren slopes. This is why the grass on Bernike's mountain is so tall and abundant and why cattle there grow so fat and healthy, like all cattle will in the afterlife. The howling winds heard from the mountaintops are playfully suggested to be the barks and howls of Mak-Urudain, calling down from the heavens to keep the witch grounded in the world of the living.