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sconnie-doesnt-know · 3 years

Text

So Wrong

Characters: Lee Bodecker, Reader, Jane Bodecker, assorted OCs, also gonna go ahead and say Lee is kinda soft/dark in this one

Word Count: 8000

Warnings: Infidelity, alcohol usage, smoking, somewhat dub-con sexual stuff, but not really

Summary: The Reader is a young single mother and widow new to the town of Meade. She gets drawn into a social circle that includes the Sheriff’s wife, while also being drawn to the Sheriff himself.

A/n: I truly don’t know where this came from or why I wrote it. I watched TDATT and suddenly this whole thing just popped into my head complete with a Patsy Cline soundtrack. There’s infidelity on Lee’s part, and his wife is terrible, and these are fictional characters so I am trying to not feel guilty for making that happen.

There’s more to this story, probably extending into 1 or 2 more parts. I don’t know what to say for myself, I cannot pwp. Feedback and constructive criticism are welcome. Not beta-read, so please let me know if there’s an error.

Hope you enjoy!

Meade is as good a place as any to settle. Surrounded by wilderness and small towns, it’s quiet, far from anyplace and anyone you know. A welcome adventure and a place to dispose of your grief, finally - hopefully.

You pull up on a quiet street and sit there just a moment to breathe, to look at the life you had that is settled in between the few boxes and suitcases of belongings, the folded up flag, and the little boy you buckled into the seat.

Through a tangled web of connections, you are able to rent a little upper duplex apartment from the widow in town. She claims she doesn’t mind a little noise as your son stomps up the stairs and gives you an open invitation to join her at church on Sundays.

It is six days into your new residence, the first Monday in town when the apparent welcoming committee shows up at your door. She wears a gentle smile on her face and presents you with a warm pie still wrapped in cloth.

“My name is Jane Bodecker, my husband’s the Sheriff. I wanted to introduce myself…”

You know the routine after moving around a few times already. You imagine the conspiring during the luncheon after church yesterday, the ladies munching on dry cookies and deciding who would be the first to talk to you.

You nod and smile, and accept the offering.

“Some of us like to get together to play cards and socialize on Tuesdays, it would be nice to have you join us and let us get to know you.”

Of course she means that they are chomping at the bit to know why a single woman with no family ties has moved into town. You’re familiar with the ritual and know you need to go along if you want to make it work in this place.

You return her smile, “That would be so kind of you, as long as you don’t mind my son coming along.” You gesture to the little boy hiding in your skirts behind you.

“Of course he can. He can play with my boy, Robert. We will see you at two.” She leaves you with her address and directions over, telling you to look for the house with the red shutters.

Their house is in one of the newer, more developed parts, with some manufactured homes lining the street and looking boxy compared to the traditional farmhouses, but it's charming. The red shutters stand out, that’s for certain. It doesn’t take long to figure out that Jane is a proud host, head of the gossip chain, and is required to mention “My husband, the Sheriff” at least once per conversation.

You let the ladies ask their questions and nod politely as they give you the required chorus of condolences. You feel the shift when Jane steers the conversation to what they all want to know. “Now, I don’t mean to spread gossip, but some folks were wondering why you rented a place here instead of goin’ home to your family.”

Your shoulders stiffen, ‘so much for not putting me on the spot’ you think, but you still smile politely as you answer. “I have no other family. My daddy was gone when I was a girl and my momma dropped me off with an aunt and uncle when she was with husband number three and I don’t know where she is. They said it was the first thing she did that made a lick of sense,” you try to joke. “Well, they didn’t exactly approve of me and Jimmy, so when we married they told me not to go back.”

“And the boy’s other kin?”

“Ain’t no other kin. Jimmy’s family was small, they’re gone now.”

“Well, ain’t you a tragedy,” she says in a chirpy, high voice.

Your face tightens and you stare at your lap, “We get by,” you weakly mutter.

They all assure you that they have some nice gentlemen they can introduce to you, and go on about how fortunate you are they are pulling you into their group. You hear about faceless people and their minor transgressions, but get bored with it fairly quickly and use the time to look over the Bodecker home. It’s nice, a mixture of modest and a few state-of -the-art updates. There’s more dust than you expect, the sofa cushions look worn down, with only a few photos on display. The sheriff’s face shrouded in shadows in the one you can see, but you figure their son must take after him since he doesn’t have the pinched look his mother seems to naturally have.

You don’t even meet ‘her husband, the Sheriff’ until your third Tuesday afternoon of cards at their home. Jane herself is practically giving a campaign speech since the election so close. You never paid a lot of attention to local politics, and you try to give her your attention, but when she starts to ramble on it’s just too much. You happen to look to the side to avoid rolling your eyes and catch just when he strolls in, as if on cue with the uniform all perfectly in place. He scans the group of women until he stops on you, eyes lighting up with interest.

Your own breath catches in your throat at the sight of him as he removes his hat and looks you over.

“Well,” he drawls, “You must be the sweet new thing that’s got all the fellas in town rioting.”

You have to look down, lest the embarrassment make you combust.

“Now, Lee,” Jane scolds, “That’s no way to say hello. Come over here and introduce yourself properly.” She guides him over, and you almost say it with her when she recites, “This is my husband, the Sheriff.”

“Apologies, miss. I know you aren’t trying to get them all riled. Janey told me ‘bout your husband. War is Hell, shame to be losing boys like that.”

He holds his hand out to shake yours, his hold firm and warm and you are hesitant to let go.

“I appreciate that, thank you, Sheriff. Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he nods, eyes flicking over you one more time. “What are your plans in this lovely town of ours?”

“Oh. Well,” you freeze up for a moment, it’s the first time someone’s asked and you don’t have your answer prepared. “Well, I was thinking that I would get a job. We get by right now, but once my boy is in school, I would like something else to do.”

Jane jumps on your answer, “Let’s just see if we can’t find you a bachelor around here. Plenty of boys can use someone to take care of ‘em, but if you want a man who will be home on time, you stay away from any of the deputies. I can’t remember the last time Lee wasn’t busy with something or other from the county. I suppose that’s the life we’ve chosen though, isn’t it?”

Her voice sounds overly sweet, but you can sense the daggers in her words. It’s the way he reacts, shifting on his feet and rolling his jaw like he’s annoyed. Jane doesn’t even pay attention to anything but the cards in her hand. Some of the other ladies nod, but the sheriff just lowers his head before he pulls Jane to the side to talk to her quietly.

You track his movements, fascinated until you shake yourself out of it. It’s been years since you felt like that or even saw a man that caught your attention - not since Jimmy. It’s alarming, unnerving.

The wave of guilt that washes over you is more than you can handle.

“Please excuse me, but we must be going.” You get up without waiting for any response and practically yank your son right out of the house as Jane calls after you that she will see you again soon.

You brush off the incident after having some time to think, convinced that it is just because you were caught off guard, and try to go on as normally as you can.

Your days end up filled with social calls, running errands or helping your landlady, and keeping your son busy. He asks to play with the Bodecker boy nearly every day, but you try your best to keep your distance when you can, especially when she starts trying to arrange dates for you even when you politely decline.

You look at the other ladies sometimes and wonder how many of them are just tolerating her the way you do. There’s just something grating about the way her voice goes especially nasally when she has something not-very-Christian to say, or the way she talks so openly and obscenely about the apparent whorehouse in town. She doesn’t even seem the least bit shameful when she begins to complain about her sister-in-law and the trouble she gets up to despite her brother being the sheriff.

Sheriff Bodecker, on the other hand, is a bit more friendly than you anticipated, expecting him to be cold or rude, but usually he’s the one pushing his wife to extend a coffee or supper invitation your way and making small talk when you are still around when he gets home from work or if he catches you around town. Your own mind suspects that it’s maybe just a sense of civic duty to know his neighbors, but it’s nice to have company nonetheless.

Conversation with him comes easily. He talks with you about interesting news stories, about the boys, about some of the other towns, and even plans for the county. It’s interesting, not just debate on whether the new curtains chosen by someone or other are tacky. There are times you get lost talking with him and need to be corralled back in by Jane or Steven getting antsy.

The way he draws your eye is a mixture of curiosity and interest. It makes you notice when he’s driving the patrol car or when you see him around town. You catch how tired he seems at the end of the days, how he’s usually got a piece of candy to slip to kids when they come by and are brave enough to ask. You notice how he knows everyone in town and seems to have an eye on everything, checking in at the shops and breaking up the young men when they start to roughhouse.

In a place like this, Jane Bodecker is far from the only gossiper in town, so while she might not share much about herself or her husband, plenty of others do. Some of the things they say are just nitpicking and you try to drown it out. They’ve been decent to you since your arrival, but it’s hard to ignore the constant whispers of how power went right to their heads.

When the election is over and she gets the right to continue to say “My husband, the Sheriff” you start to really see what they say. She loses the facade of playing the good wife, but still hosts her weekly card meetings to keep up to date. Instead of just coffee and tea, she starts slipping sips of whiskey and gives her opinion a bit more freely than before, and often hurling insults anywhere they can land.

It’s painful to watch her put down everyone, but especially the sheriff when he gets in her way. When you catch him sending a frustrated look at her turned back or rolling his eyes at her complaints about the town and its people, you pretend not to notice and remember to keep a smile on. Her outbursts get more and more unhinged and brazen, and the defeat and exhaustion in his stance makes you ache. There’s a hurt you can’t vocalize without overstepping, but it eats at you, chips at your patience bit by bit.

When the sheriff pulls the cruiser over one day while you’re walking between stores to say hi and make some small talk, you’re pleased. He seems less worn down, it’s nice to see.

“Oh, Sheriff, you’ve got some good timing,” you reach into one of your shopping bags, pulling out a paper bag of hard candies you bought from the candy shop. “While doing the washing, I found a handful of wrappers. Turns out the boys were getting into your candy stash. Thought you might need a refill.”

You hand him the bag and the smile he gives you in return makes your chest tighten up and ache.

“Sweet things from a sweet thing, thank you darlin’.”

You bit down on your lips, desperate to not react to his flirtatious words. “It’s nothin’, Sheriff.”

“Not to me.”

You start to sway from foot to foot, looking down at the sidewalk with a hum and trying to come up with something else to say. Silence hangs in the air for a moment before his radio crackles with a call from the station. You take the opportunity to make your exit.

“I’ll be seeing you, Sheriff.”

He shoots a glare at the radio, but looks back at you with what you could only describe as longing. “Sure will, Sweets.” Usually something like that would sound condescending, but from him it sounds endearing. He winks and pulls the car away, talking to the dispatcher while he drives.

‘Sweets...sweet thing...darlin’’ his voice repeats over and over in your head, fingers trembling and clumsy with the rush they give you and the way your heart races.

You get nearly sick when you recognize the feelings you’re having. It’s like it was when you were first with Jimmy. When you couldn’t even look him in the eyes because you felt too overwhelmed by your feelings for him. When you flushed and overheated when he got close and said pretty things. When you used to hold onto his hand and promise yourself that you would care for him every day and prove your love to him.

That’s when you realize you’re coveting another woman’s husband.

It’s Thursday, which means you need to head down to Main Street to visit the pharmacy for your landlady, Mrs. Martins, and gather some groceries for the week. You had made plans with Jane to let the boys play together while you took ran errands. You don’t have a good excuse to change the plan, but you can’t help but ask again, “You sure you don’t mind him being here?”

“Not at all,” she smiles, a bit wider and more manic than usual, “Now if that handsome Wilford boy happens to ask you for supper, don’t you worry about rushin’ back, ya hear?”

You laugh at her latest unsubtle attempt, “I will keep it in mind, thanks.” She and a few others had started to meddle, putting eligible bachelors in your path and setting up dates on your behalf. You do try. You talk to them, let them flirt, but none hold your interest. They’re boys - lanky and lean, still all reckless and rowdy. Not what you’re looking for, nothing like the solid, filled-out figure of a man, someone secure and stable and in a uniform. But that’s something to think about another day.

Wilford does indeed ask.

You do not feel so inclined to take up the offer, especially when he pinches the round of your ass as he asks you to consider dessert before any supper.

He has you pressed against the wall outside the hardware store, letting the sun blind you and bring tears to your eyes as the bricks snag the delicate threads of your dress.

He only backs away when a loud voice booms out, “There a problem here, son?”

He turns his head to find Lee pulled to the side of the road, window down and arm resting on the frame, his jaw clenched and eyes narrowed.

“No sir, Sheriff, just makin’ some supper plans, ain’t we?” Wilford looks back at you with a leer. Your hands press flat against the building and your knee twitches with the urge to jerk up and hurt him.

“I thought we were expecting you tonight, isn’t that right?” Lee asks you pointedly.

Your attacker looks back at Lee, then to you, and you nod. Finally, you’re given some space.

“I imagine you need to be moving along then?” Lee checks, waiting impatiently for Wilford to answer.

“Yessir.” He gives you a wicked grin and spins away to go back down the street. “Maybe another time when you’re free.”

You shake your head, eyes narrowed at his back as you glare.

Lee taps the side of the cruiser, “C’mere.”

You take a shaky breath and gather yourself with a nod before taking the few steps across the sidewalk. Leaning down you take a moment to look him over in his uniform, the badge gleaming in the sunshine and eyes clear blue as the sky.

“You alright, Sweets?” he asks, voice low and gentle. He’d taken to calling you that since the candy incident, always in that same tone - like it’s precious and important. The way it hits you right in the center of your chest hurts more than the physical damage done a moment ago. You know he isn’t asking if your heart is aching, or if you’re alright being lonely, or any of the ways you’re feeling it right now, but it strikes you in an unexpected way.

“I’m fine,” you smile tightly, “Thank you for checking.”

“These boys just don’t know how to handle themselves when they see a pretty lady.” Your cheeks ache as you try to keep from beaming at the off-hand comment. “Ya know, I’m getting ready to head on home, you need a ride that way? I’m guessing your boy is stirrin’ up some shit with mine?” He turns and scans the road and sidewalk around you, fidgeting a bit as he asks.

“I still have to make another stop and my car is at the end of the block, but thank you.” You stand up.

“Well, I mean it, you and Steven stay for supper tonight, I’ll square it with Jane.”

“You don’t hav’ta do that-”

“No worries, darlin’.” He winks, taps his fingers on the shell of the door by the painted logo and waits until you nod in agreement. “See you soon, then.” And with a nod he pulls off the curb.

You watch the cruiser drive away, then look up and down the street, but no one else is there. You finally manage to draw in a full breath, and rush to get to the cool air of the pharmacy to ease the flush burning you from the inside out.

You make it back to the Bodecker’s before the sheriff, glad to have a few moments to smooth things over with Jane since she clearly had not expected you to turn down the date she arranged for you.

“He wasn’t too much of a handful, was he? I told him before I left that he better mind you today.”

She waves you off, sitting back down at the table with her abandoned cigarette in the tray and a small glass of brown liquor.

“Well, the boys’ll sleep tonight, that’s for sure. They’ve been running circles round the whole damn house.” She ashes the cigarette before taking another puff and settling against the backrest of the chair.

You take a moment to look over the kitchen, a pot is just about to boil over so you make your way to it. “Can I help you out with anything? Give you a moment to freshen up ‘fore Lee gets home?”

“I suppose that’s the least you can do.” Her cheeks draw in another puff and she hums, taking her glass with her as she goes to their bedroom.

The boys run inside, breathless and sweaty, both shouting while they tell you about a nest they found outside before you order them off to get washed up themselves. You look down the hall, waiting to see if Jane was on her way back or if she was expecting you to finish her cooking. Rather than let it burn, you do just that, taking care of the potatoes, adding a few seasonings as you go, and pulling out the meatloaf from the oven.

The screen door squeaks and boots thud through the house when Lee enters and makes his way to the kitchen. You nervously look over your shoulder, catching him leaning against the door jamb, spinning his hat in his hand, a soft smile on his lips as he looks your way.

“This is a sight. If I didn’t know better I’d think I wandered into the wrong house.”

You let out a bit of a nervous laugh, then look back down to the greens you were tending to, “I am so sorry, I kept your wife busy longer than I should’ve. She’ll be out in just a minute.” You go back to busying yourself with finishing up the meal.

“Not complainin’,” he mutters under his breath, but you still hear it and it makes your breath hitch. Jane could set you on edge with her snide remarks, so could Lee, but for completely different reasons - some that had been dormant for so long you didn’t know what to do.

Just then Jane makes her grand reappearance, hair freshly combed and lips tinged with a touch of color; her cheeks look ruddy, but you can’t tell if it’s rouge or flush from the alcohol she’s been sipping.

“Don’t you go adding too much milk to my potatoes, nobody likes ‘em all runny. Here, let me,” she says and nudges you out of the way, “See you gotta mix in just a little bit right there.”

She overpours anyway, her hands moving unsteadily as she mashes the potatoes up, making them runny just like she warned you about.

From behind you, you see Lee go to the table, picking up the liquor bottle and examining the contents, making marks with his fingers against the side of the bottle and shaking his head. He takes a swig himself and sets it back down.

He mumbles something about being sober, then walks down the hall to where Jane disappeared, stopping to say something to make the boys giggle on the way before they wrestle each other at the bathroom sink to wash up for supper.

The meal starts off quiet, just the utensils scraping along the plates, but Jane being the gracious host, finally tries to perk it up with conversation.

“I know Wilford might be a little rough ‘round the edges for someone from a bigger town, but there are still several other young men I can introduce you to,” she offers, unprompted.

You choke a little before you recover and finish chewing your bite of food.

“You needn’t go through the trouble, Mrs. Bodecker. Really.”

“It’s just, you’re so young to be widowed already and all alone. What kinda home will it be for the boy with no man around? And don’t you want more kids? I bet you just glow. Some of the ladies at my bible study wouldn’t mind setting you up.”

The idea makes you squirm. No, you aren’t dead inside, but there’s no way for you to get what - who you really want.

The sheriff speaks up then. “My old man took off on my ma, sister, and me. That’s just the way shit happens sometimes,” he says and you feel the dark cloud start to clear just a bit. You nod at him, acknowledging the little bit of affirmation.

“What was your husband like?” Jane presses, digging a little further into that painful wound. “Maybe that will help me out.”

Your Jimmy didn’t have much to give you, but he gave you all he could. He gave you the kind of love that made your cheeks hurt from smiling, and your stomach swoop with butterflies. Your eyes flick toward Lee and you think again about how alike they seem to you, handsome, intuitive, assertive, strong-willed. He catches your gaze and pauses his chewing for a brief second while he waits for your answer.

“He was a good man, strong and fair. I’d like to think he and Mr. Bodecker would’ve gotten on quite well,” you finally say, smiling kindly at them both in turn.

Lee’s lips curl into a smile while he finishes chewing, then sits back with a stretch. “You’re makin’ me sound like an old man,” he whines, “Call me Lee when I’m not on duty.”

“Yes sir,” you automatically reply. “Lee.”

His smile grows. “Say, Janey? Why don’t you go get that jug of wine up for us?”

She nods and gets up.

“Wine?” you ask, surprised.

“It’s nothin’ special, someone up the road makes it. Tastes better than that church wine, but don’t burn like the shine some other folks are brewin’ up.”

Jane comes back with three glasses and pours generously for you all, her own motions increasingly sloppy from her afternoon drinking.

You sip at it, the taste a little tart, but not as acidic and thank them for their generosity.

“Jane, you do something different with the seasoning tonight?”

“No,” she answers, then goes right back to her chat with you, you think about speaking up, but she goes back to leading the conversation. “So, you still thinking about becoming a working gal?”

“Not right away, but yes.”

“Oh?” Lee asks, “Something at the diner? I think the grocery is hiring?”

“Nuh uh,” her voice takes on a nasty tone, “Nothing like that for her. She went to secretary school.” The lilt in her voice makes it clear that she doesn’t care for that little fact. “Can you believe that? School just to learn to file a paper or take a message.”

“There’s more to it than that,” you quietly defend.

“Jane, what the hell do you know? You haven’t worked a day in your life?” Lee asks.

Jane rolls her eyes, body slumping a bit in her chair. “Well, whatever you do, just make sure you don’t go working at the Tecumsah.” She snorts into her glass as she takes a sip. “That’s where Lee’s sister works. I told you ‘bout her before.” She gives you a look. “That place is a den of sin, if you know what I am gettin’ at.”

“You’re are gonna spoil my appetite talkin’ like that,” he says. He drops his fork and you startle, his glare at his wife making clear this is another sore subject.

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing,” she mutters. “I’m gettin’ tired of mending the buttons on your clothes.”

Your jaw nearly drops. You wring your napkin on your lap and scramble for something to change the subject and break the tension, “Jane, there are such lovely flowers planted right by the library, is there a gardening club around here that you haven’t told me about?”

She’s bored by the topic, but it does enough to distract her and send her on a tangent. You nod and hum while you pick at your food. Occasionally you glance to Lee at the side and find him looking at you appreciatively.

You keep turning the conversation away from yourself, getting her to talk about anything you can as she keeps refilling and sipping down more of her wine.

You use the next lull in conversation to make your exit.

“This has been lovely, and I am so thankful for everything today, but we really oughtta get back home. I need to make sure Mrs. Martins gets her items from the pharmacist and I need to try to fix the old projector she’s given me.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Lee asks, leaning forward.

“No idea,” you laugh. “I was hoping to puzzle it together.”

“I can take a look for you,” he offers.

“If you have a moment,” you turn to Jane, “And you don’t mind sparing him.”

She scoffs and waves her fingers, “Nah, take Robert with you.”

He grunts in response while the kids leap up, excited for more time together. You do what you can to clean up and ease the load for Jane, but she’s getting more irritable by the minute, so you shuffle to the door to leave.

You head to the driveway where your car’s parked, waiting for him outside while the boys chase each other around the cars. He steps out the door, swinging his key ring on his fingers, looking at ease without the uniform on, but still strutting with an air of authority. It makes your stomach swoop.

“The Martins place? What road is that on again?” he asks jarring you out of your staring.

“Just follow me, Sheriff. I mean - Lee,” You nod as you get into the driver’s seat, Steven climbing in on the other side.

“Don’t mind if I do.” He mutters it loud enough that you hear him. The tilted, teasing grin on his face as he climbs into his own car almost makes you certain it was his intention.

When you get out, there’s a lump in your throat and the air suddenly feels heavy. Thankfully, the short walk up your drive is quiet, the sheriff walking leisurely next to you and laughing at the boys as they race each other down the sidewalk.

“I gotta go in the back way,” you swallow thickly as you tell him while you open up the gate, “There’s a private staircase for us there.”

He nods and follows.

When you enter the small apartment, you’re grateful that you don’t have much to fuss over and that it is tidy by default.

“Why don’t you boys go play with the Lincoln Logs or race cars? Nothing too loud right now,” you suggest and push them off toward the small room Steven occupies. “I got the parts all together right here, but I think something is missing.” You point to the box with the projector parts and reels.

“No problem,” Lee’s voice is quiet in your small space. He takes out the parts and starts to fit things together, checking a few switches here and there after a couple of minutes before patting the top of it with a, “There you go.”

You smile widely, “That’s it? Really?”

“That’s it, Sweets,” he matches your smile.

You suddenly hate the idea of him leaving so quickly, so you look around for something else.

“Coffee?”

He nods. “It’s like you read my mind,” there’s a glint in his eye as he gives you a generous once-over.

You feel a flush and quickly turn away to the kitchen.

Your hands tremble as you fill the kettle with water and scoop grounds into the press.

The boys break into a fit of giggles and before you can call after them, you feel the warm presence of Lee shuffle up behind you. His boots scuff against the floor as he stops, then seconds later his arms cage you in from behind, his palms resting against the edge of the countertop.

His breaths are deep, his nose just tickling along the neckline of your dress and you feel your back stiffen at the rush.

“You’re so lovely Sweets,” he whispers.

Your breath shakes as you suck it in. “S-sheriff,” you swallow thickly, “Lee? What’re you doing?”

“You’re beautiful, y’know.”

You remain still, unable to whisper anything but his name again.

“I see the way you look at me,” he presses a kiss to your skin that’s so gentle and tender but nearly makes your knees buckle. “Like you want somethin’.”

“I’m not - I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you weakly deny.

One arm leaves the counter to wrap around your middle, pulling you even closer to him while he steps right up behind you, the whole front of him up against your back. The movement makes you gasp and arch just slightly. You’re unable to catch yourself from rolling your head back to lean against him fully and feeling him grunt.

“You don’t need to make any excuses. You want me, dontcha?” he talks with his lips pressed right against your neck, heavy breaths tickling at your hairline.

God, do you want him. The sudden feeling of a warm, masculine body against you is something you didn’t realize you missed so much. For years it’s just been you and your boy and focusing on the day to day, not thinking about the way a strong arm feels pulled around you with fingers just tickling at your sensitive skin - until suddenly that’s exactly what is happening. And how you’ve missed it, your muscles nearly seize up with tension as you try to fight how good it feels.

It’s like trying to drag yourself from a dream, slow and muted as you try to make sense of everything at once; a sharp clarity punches through hard and fast.

“Your wife,” you reach down to cover his hand with your own, ready to try to pry him off.

“That fucking pig? I don’t love her, I don’t want her. She don’t want me either.”

“Don’t say that. You can’t say that,” you tell him and start to pull away, squirming away but getting nowhere since he doesn’t budge an inch. He allows you to spin around between himself and the countertop. “Lee? What is this? What’re you doing?”

It’s a stupid question. You know what this is. You can remember moments like these with your late husband, but Lee is not your husband. You know his wife. You just spent the evening with her in their home.

He doesn’t answer. Instead his free hand starts to skim up along your side until his thumb catches at the curve at the bottom your breast, then slides up so that he can rub his thumb back and forth over your dress, teasing at your hardened nipple.

It makes you whimper and nearly fold in half with how sensitive you feel.

“I’ll make you feel so good,” he coos, his lips parted and eyes tracking the movement of his thumb.

You lift your arms to his shoulders, uncertain yet if you’re planning to push him away or pull him close when you hear the quick footsteps of the boys.

Lee steps back to give you some distance and your hands flutter mid-air as you try to compose yourself.

The boys start to whine over each other-

“Momma. Robert keeps knocking over my building.”

“No, he keeps takin’ the blocks I’m using.”

Some kind of clarity forms and you rush out a solution for them, “Why don’t you get out your TinkerToys and split it all up? Alright? Go back to the other room,” you nudge them away.

Problem solved, they run back to the room, leaving you standing in the kitchen, Lee lingering just feet away and the half-finished coffee press on the counter.

“Jane must be expecting you home by now.”

He grunts and shakes his head ruefully, “She’s probably passed out by now.”

“Oh,” you nod. You search for something, anything to excuse yourself and catch your breath, “I need to go to the bathroom. Excuse me a moment.”

You slip out of the kitchen and into the door just down the hall. Taking a moment to relieve yourself then press a cool rag to your cheeks. You’d nursed the glass of wine Jane had poured, so you knew deep down you weren’t tipsy, you were just overrun by the feelings the sheriff gave you. Once you get your first full breath in minutes, you feel better, calmer and more controlled. You look at yourself in the mirror and decide - you just need to send him on home.

You barely crack open the bathroom door when it’s pushed open wide, Lee wedging in when it’s wide enough and nearly slamming it shut behind him.

“Don’t hide from me, Sweets,” is all he says before he’s got one arm around your middle again, and the other holding the back of your neck while he presses his lips against yours. After gasping in surprise, you instinctively return the kiss - your tongue and lips tentative against his dominating mouth.

It’s strange - all of it so strange after so long. It’s been years since your last kiss and you feel clumsy, out of practice, but he doesn’t hesitate one bit, doesn’t seem turned off by your uncoordinated motions and hands that can’t keep still over his middle and shoulders.

He takes in a deep breath, pausing for just a second to position himself better, then he’s back on you, and you feel ready for him this time. One hand resting on his chest while the other hooks up around his neck, your fingers stroking through the soft, short hairs at the back of his head. He turns the both of you, pressing you against the vanity sink.

“Lee,” you whimper when he wedges a leg between yours.

“Shh, shh, sshh. I got you.”

His kisses are relentless and make you light-headed, gasping for breaths every time he slightly lets up. His hands push and pull, struggling against your dress and your undergarments until he’s freed one breast and can drop his head to suckle at your hard peak.

Your mouth falls open in a silent cry, mind painfully aware of the children in the room nearby. You crack open an eye to make sure the door is still closed and try to focus on the sounds the kids are making, but his tongue and lips are too distracting. He pulls as much of your breast into his mouth as he can, greedily swirling his tongue all over the sensitive bud, and pulling away with a loud pop.

You slap at his shoulder while he just looks up at you with a shit-eating grin.

“Feels good, right?” He places his hand to cup your breast, thumb flicking at your nipple. “Let me have you, I’ll make you feel so good, my sweet girl. Please?”

His own eyes close as he ruts up against you, his hard length pressing against your hip and sending a tremor through your body, practically shaking your bones. You don’t move though, your hands stay frozen where you hold onto him, but he continues to lead and coax you along.

One wide hand holds you at the back of your neck, just holding you in place. His mouth moves across your cheeks and at the hinge of your jaw. He whispers quiet promises of satisfaction, telling you how lovely you are and confirming every word with a kiss. His other hand leaves your breast after one final and quick pinch and grabs at the bottom of your dress. The fabric bunching in his fist as he gathers it until he can feel your thigh.

Then he teases you with just the tips of his fingers, sliding right up and over til he meets where your thighs meet. It tickles, makes you shake a little, and then you’re sucking in a hard gasp when he keeps going until he pets and presses over your sex with the pads of his fingertips.

“So wet,” he says on an exhale, pressing right where you feel your excitement leaking. “You want me too. It’s alright.”

To prove his point, he presses harder, flattening his hand until he’s cupping you and making your body jerk between him and the sink. You bend your knees to open your thighs wider with the touch, and he groans and presses hard against you again, the heel of his palm putting pressure to your throbbing clit. You struggle to not hook your leg right over his hip to let him in.

“Lee,” you start to beg, “Please. Oh my god, please.”

It’s so overwhelming you start to sob, the tears already prick at the corners of your eyes. Just being touched, feeling the warmth of him, and the words - it’s all that you remembered being with a man to be and more. His hand keeps a rhythm against you, driving you higher. You hadn’t had a man’s touch in years, but suddenly you need Lee like you need air.

“Please,” you say again. Your body tingles with electricity that has nowhere to go.

“So pretty. You’re so pretty, baby. I’m gonna take care of ya. Am I what you need?”

“Yes,” tears start to roll down your cheeks. He pulls back slightly until he can slip his fingers underneath your panties, gliding right through your arousal. You feel two of his fingers slide into you, and you squeeze around them instantly.

“Fuck,” he grunts. Your wetness drips down his fingers into his palm. He presses the heel of it against you again, right against your sensitive clit this time. “Come on my fingers, sweetness.”

He fucks you with his hand, his thick, solid fingers caressing you while he sends jolts of pleasure through you with pressure on your sensitive button. You squirm to get away, but the hand still at the back of your neck tightens and holds you down, making you take it.

“It’s alright,” he whispers, “It’s alright.”

And that’s it. You freeze for a moment as the pleasure peaks and then you’re trembling as the shocks of it rush through you in a blaze. You can hear the wetness drowning his fingers as he keeps pumping them into you while you clench over him repeatedly and sob as quietly as you can, which must not be very quiet because he starts to shush you and slow the movement of his hand, gently attempting to calm you down.

“You’re okay, s’alright baby, just breathe, c’mon,” you hear him coach, but all you can focus on is the thumping beat of your heart as it races and trying to catch your breath between sniffles, the tears falling freely down your cheeks.

His hand slides out from your panties to grab you steady at your waist, the hand from your neck moves so he can use his thumb to wipe away your tears. He presses his forehead to yours and tells you to breathe with him.

You blink your eyes open, eyelashes glittering with wetness and you take a minute to focus. Once things are clear, you tilt your head back to look at him. His cheeks are flushed, lips wet and rosy, and his eyes - they nearly glow as he looks you over. It’s something to see - awe, tenderness, pride all in the twitches of his lips as his lips turn up with a smile.

“Sweets, will you touch me?” he asks. For such a big man, his voice is suddenly so small.

“Lee, I can’t-I haven’t…” you struggle to find the words.

“It’s alright, that’s alright,” he assures you, circling your wrist with his fingers still sticky from your arousal, and guiding them to the bulge in his trousers. You flinch, but don’t pull away, your arm tenses, but goes with the motion. He presses your palm against the solid length, pushing down to give him some relief. His hips press against you in return and once he’s sure you aren't going anywhere, he lets go of your wrist, then starts to undo the belt and button in quick movements. He tugs the waistband of his trousers and boxers down together, just to release his cock.

You feel the fabric move under your palm, but keep pressing against him, your hand sliding just slightly out of remembered instinct. When the fabric of his boxers slides away and you’re met with the heat of his cock, you gasp. Your hand wraps around him, fingers circling around his shaft to hold him and pulling a strangled moan from him.

“Shit-fuck,” he hisses. “Won’t be long.” He wraps his hand over yours, pulling your fist up and down over him while he pumps his hips into it. Precome drips down from the slit, easing the glide.

His eyes close and he presses his temple to yours, his face pulls up in concentration, focusing on the pleasure, “You’re so soft, so sweet,” he rasps, “Want you so bad, want you all to myself.”

You can imagine it, if you’re ready to be totally honest, you have imagined it.

“Kiss me?” you whisper.

His lips meet yours roughly for a long press, then he tilts his head and licks at the seam of your lips, making you open up to him. His hand and yours start to speed up, he keeps guiding you up and down, just the slightest twist at the head with each stroke.

The kiss turns sloppy, more sharing air and pecks than anything as he spirals with the pleasure you’re helping to give him.

“You’re gonna -you’re gonna make me-” with a pained expression, he nudges you away, his hand stroking frantically as he leans over your sink until he starts to come, streaks hitting the porcelain as he chokes down groans. You watch his neck and face go red, trying not to watch, but you can’t help yourself and catch the way his cock twitches with his release, all swollen and red. You don’t think you could possibly blush more, but still fire burns underneath your skin.

When he finishes coming, he reaches for you again, pulling you into another hard kiss. “God, darlin’. Fuck,” he whispers while he attempts to catch his breath. “Fuck. Haven’t been tugged off like that since I was a deputy.” He chuckles, the laugh coming out in hard puffs of air.

You struggle to look at anything in the bathroom, eyes straying back to Lee, to his softening cock, to the come dripping slowly in the sink basin. Just then you hear the boys start to giggle and reality hits you again, making your chest seize up in panic.

“Oh, Lee. No,” you raise a hand to your mouth and quickly rush out the door, piecing your wardrobe back together as you walk back into the kitchen. You hear the water run in the bathroom and murmuring as Lee talks to himself.

Your movement must have distracted the boys because they manage to sound like a stampede heading toward you. You wipe at your nose and eyes as best you can before you turn to see what they want.

Both the boys pause, but it’s your son that speaks up, knowing how you look when you cry. “Momma, you alright?”

Lee exits the bathroom then, shirt tucked back in, belt and trousers back in place - only the flush from the neck up giving anything away. His eyes bore into you with heavy emotion that you are ashamed that you can read so well - concern, sympathy, desire. A mixture that you remind yourself you don’t deserve.

“Yeah, baby. I am. You know I get sad sometimes, I’ll be fine. Are you boys ready to say goodbye for tonight? I think it’s well past your bedtime.”

You grab Steven and fuss with his hair, with his messy shirt, and then turn him around and hold him against you like a tiny human shield. “Say thank you to the sheriff for fixing the projector and for letting Robert play.”

“Thank you, sir,” your son dutifully responds.

Lee can see what you’re doing and he’s not happy with it, his mouth going flat and shoulders heaving as you pressure him into leaving.

He just nods, then nudges at Robert’s shoulder, “Say thank you for indulging us.”

“Thank you,” Robert quietly says.

You send Steven down the hallway to get ready for bed, and then you follow behind as they step toward the door, Robert too tired from a full day of play to put up a fight. Lee opens the door to the back steps, telling Robert to be careful going down. When the boy starts down a few, Lee turns back to you.

Before you can react, he’s giving you another kiss, quick but meaningful. “We’re not done,” he whispers.

“We are. Go home, Lee.”

He gives you a long look before stomping down the steps. “Til next time, Sweets.”

...

#lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker smut #lee bodecker angst #lee bodecker fanfiction #hoedecker club #hoedecker cult #tdatt fanfiction #my writing #fic title so wrong #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker x female reader

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aweecrush · 3 years

Text

Prologue

Tuesday, October 16th 2007

“Jesus, I can’t believe you’re actually in the fucking plane - took you long enough! If I had known it took a wedding to get your arse back home, I would have had a couple by now, for God’s sake .”

“Michelle, you promised you wouldn’t start! ” Clare’s reproachful voice rose.

“Aye, first, I didn’t promise shit, and second, I told you, she’s not chickening out so chill out - right Erin?”

Despite the culpability and shame pricking at her skin, her heart warmed at their traditional bickering she wished she’d hear more often. At their voices. And, most of all, at knowing that in a few hours, she’d get to hear them for real.

Feck, she’d missed these eejits.

“Well, I’m not actually in the plane yet, we’re waiting to board. And then I still have that stupid long flight, and then the stupid long wait at stupid London, so don’t wait up - but yes, I’m definitely on my way,” she promised, earning herself an earful of high pitched cackles and happy swears.

Her heart welled up.

“So, how is the bride doing? She wasn’t home when I called earlier, and all Mammy could talk about was how the caterer was driving her crazy and how aunt Sarah almost set her own hair on fire trying a new hairdo she’d like to nail for the ceremony.”

Michelle snorted. “ Yeah, hilarious so it was. You should have seen your dad’s face, mental. ”

“It was terrifying,” Clare corrected, apparently still shaken.

Then, perked up. “Orla’s going to look so cute though - I can’t wait for you to see the dress!” Erin tried to ignore the sting of not having been there for such an important moment.

“We’re still trying to convince her out of drawing anything on it, but I’m not sure we’ll win this one, to be honest. Also, we’ve got everything almost ready to go for the bachelorette party, although I do need you to help me stop Michelle from bringing the tons of drugs she wants to, because - ”

“For feck’s sake Clare, Orla would love it! The girl is tying the knot, she deserves to get properly shit faced.”

“She said she wanted something small!”

“She said she would have liked to have a little something with just the five of us the night before. She never said anything about the actual bachelorette party being small - or fucking boring for that matter!”

“Just the five of us?”

The words spilled out before she could stop them, stupid that she was. At the other end of the line, the girls went uncharastically silent, and Erin cursed herself.

Feck.

“I mean, that’s grand. It’s cool, I thought it was just going to be one big night for the bachelorette party before the big day, but - I mean, that’s even better! Grand - cool.”

Christ on a bike, that was pathetic. She was.

“Yeah...The thing is, Orla wanted a wee night with just us Derry girls the night before the bachelorette party, hanging at the bar and stuff you know, because - Well, just because.” Poor Clare was rambling now, in a typical panicked Clare kind of way. “And we thought - Well, then we thought about it, and it turns out it’s not going to work, just timing-wise and stuff, so - “

“So the point is we dropped it.”

“Right. Yep.”

Again, silence, only betrayed by the hammering in her chest that she hoped her friends wouldn’t hear over her cellphone.

“Oh okay, well - that’s a shame.” Her casual slash over the top fake disappointment tone did nothing to help convince anyone, of course, herself included. She winced.

She promised herself it wasn’t going to be like this, though. She wasn’t going to ruin this for anyone - not a chance.

For God’s sake, catch yourself on Erin.

Pushing all dangerous thoughts aside, Erin took a deep breath. “In any case, I’m sure it’ll all be fine - really fine.”

There were another few seconds of silence, and she could just picture the worried look they were sharing - probably very similar to the one they had that particular, fateful day. To the one they had again when she told them she was moving away. Then -

“You bet it’ll be fine - feck, it will be absolutely brilliant is what it is! Wait til you see my dress, Erin - my tits look amazing in it.”

As it turned out, running all over the city for work for the past ten days and dangerously flirting with the limits of sleep deprivation did have a perk: her whole, eight hours flight, Erin slept like a log.

(Truth was, she could have done without the look of contempt and the ‘Miss? You have drool on your face’ from that stupid flight attendant who woke her up when they landed, but still - all in all, it went well.)

The wait at Stansted airport, however, was pure hell.

Because of the jitters, mostly.

Growing up, despite how much she loved to complain about them, Erin had never actually considered living away from her family. Well, not that far, at least - she’d always known she would leave Derry after high school, which they did, and it was glorious. War or not, she had a pretty nice life as a child and then a teenager, but those college years and the first ones that had followed - they were the best of her life.

Still, it was only Belfast at the time, and Belfast was a two hours drive from home. Erin knew that at some point, she wanted to go out in the world, maybe live abroad for a while, but this - New-York, all on her own, away for so long? She hadn’t planned that. Didn’t, really - it all went so fast, in the end.

It was a good thing too, because if she had stopped and thought about it for too long, she wasn’t sure she would have gone through with it.

(Then again, what else could she have done?)

Despite her dreams, and her need for independence, and her eagerness to see the world, Erin had never thought that she’d leave her family for that far, for that long. Orla had come to see her once, thank goodness, but Jesus -

On the last picture her Ma had sent her, Anna had grown so much, she almost looked like a wee woman. She’d forgotten the exact colour of that lipstick aunt Sarah wore all the time, she couldn’t remember each wrinkle on Granda’s beautiful face like she used to, and sometimes, she was afraid she was forgetting her Da’s smell and what her Ma’s voice sounded like in real life. She’d missed them so much, it hurt (a lot, often).

She just couldn’t wait any longer to get back to that crazy bunch, and those last, endless few hours? Torture so it was.

She was half considering starting to work on her next article to pass the time when across from her, Erin spotted a young couple bickering, their luggages next to their seats. She was a beautiful thing, red hair tied in a messy bun, and his brown curls fell above his forehead, all messed up.

She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she could make out their accents. He looked like he was trying to make her smile, leaning over so he could kiss her, and she was doing everything she could not to laugh, weakly trying to escape his arms around hers, her pretense wavering with every second.

They were probably in their early twenties, just out of uni or something. They looked happy.

Her chest tightened, and suddenly, Erin felt the urge to cry.

Well, that was quick.

Shite. Shite shite shite.

It was okay, though - it was all fine. She knew herself by now - she was emotional as heck most days of the year (crazy, her Ma would say), but the day of her returning back home, with accumulated fatigue and an Atlantic crossing flight in her feet? Of course she'd get misty eyed at the first occasion. At anything, this just happened to be what, because they were very cute and - it was a coincidence, nothing more.

It was nothing.

The girl laughed, though, giving him a small slap over the head before she let him nuzzle his face in the crook of her neck. She brushed his forehead with her lips, a soft smile on them, and kept talking.

It was difficult, then, not to think about another time, another long wait, at the Bali airport this time. It was difficult, not to think about another English fella with wild, brown curls.

It was impossible, really, not to think about him.

Memories of a perfect trip came flooding back, of burnt skin and drunken smiles, of blue waters and green eyes. The tickles of the sun, the softness of his fingers over her exposed neck, her naked arms. Sweaty bodies pressed together during hot nights, slow breathes, so many new sights discovered, fingers intertwined.

Sometimes, the memory of his face hidden against her neck was so vivid, she could almost feel it. Just like she did now.

Her breath caught.

Sweet suffering Jesus.

Experience had taught her that she had to stop now - needed to, really, before her mind wandered to anything more. To everything else, every little thing that could, and would, make her heart ache even more than it already did.

(That’s another thing she’d found out: as it happened, the expression “heartbreak” wasn’t, in fact, an overly dramatic turn of words. Quite accurately descriptive it was, actually.

She often wondered when hers would stop feeling like it had been ripped into a million little pieces, but she was starting to lose faith that it ever would.)

Of course, she should have seen it coming, she knew that. She had, in fact. True to herself, she’d tried to ignore it, but she knew full well that with her coming back home, it would come back.

This painful, sneaky way every little thing seemed to remind her of before - of a life that felt so far away now.

Over the months, the many months since she’d been gone, she’d gotten it almost under control. Everyday life brought its distractions, particularly in a city like New-York: running between brunches and dinners, partying with her cool American friends, writing for a newspaper in the Big Apple, it was easy, forgetting what you wanted to, if only for so long. She was becoming a real life city girl, a full time one, and that was exactly what her busy brain - her treacherous heart - needed.

With time, every sight, every sound, every smell no longer reminded her of home - the place, the person. With time, she’d moved on.

Yes, sometimes - often - she’d wavered, but that was normal: having been close to someone meant that they lived with you forever, she couldn’t help that. At some point, it would just die down enough that she’d just be able to call it the past without her insides hurting.

(She thought it would, with Matt. Maybe not with the others before him, they were just passing through - but with him, she thought it would. She couldn’t really explain how it all made the permanent weight on her chest even heavier instead, somehow.)

But it hadn’t died down yet, and even though it was normal and okay and to be expected, six weeks ago, Erin had booked her tickets, and six weeks ago, she had lost the grip over the carefully built barriers she’d made sure to rise in the meantime for - well, self-preservation, really.

It started small. The song that had played this one special night, resonating through Starbucks as she waited for her drink. That sweatshirt her colleague bought one day that reminded her of another one. That scarf in the store that looked so much like Doctor Who’s.

But then...Then, it was every day, every damn day, just like the beginning - even worse, if she was being honest. Up until yesterday, when she boarded that damn plane.

Up until now, in this stupid airport where she didn’t want to cry.

Arms tightened around her own chest, Erin willed herself not to, even though it was becoming evident that there was no ignoring the memories and the aching now. Even though, just like she feared, it was becoming perfectly clear that there was no escaping anymore, no pretending that she wasn’t the worst person in this Goddamn country, that the worst hadn’t happened.

Even though she could feel the fear mixed with longing and excitement and dread and a million other emotions that had painfully, permanently taken residence in her stomach now that she was home.

(That had taken roots there ever since the day she left, so it did.)

Shite.

Sitting back up, Erin shook herself. No, no, no, no - she could do this.

She’d grown, she’d prepared herself. She’d even planned what to say if...She was ready. Responsable, mature, and ready. And she won’t have to face this alone.

In a few hours, she was going to see the people who raised her. In a couple of days, wee Orla was getting married. She’d come up with excuses after excuses not to come home, even for Christmas - babbling something about being overloaded with work even though it made her heart ache to know she’ll be alone for the holidays for the first time in her life. Even though she knew full well her Ma didn’t buy a single word, very aware of the real reason she was staying away. She didn’t say a single word, though, and Erin was grateful.

No more, though.

For months and months, Erin had found reasons to stay away for the exact reasons that were chipping away at her heart more and more by the second, but now her baby cousin was getting married, and she’d see her family, and they’ll hold her close, and she’ll find a way to bury all the stuff that was so, so much more difficult to ignore now that she was coming home.

Maybe - maybe it will be difficult, but they’ll be here to help her through it. She’ll be there for her family, and they’ll be here for her.

Fighting the urge to reach out for the folded photograph in her wallet (the one that brought so much comfort and so much else she’d rather avoid at the same time, the one she clinged to but pretended she didn’t), Erin just breathed, and moved to change seats.

Everything would be fine, in the end. It will be grand.

Except her family didn’t come.

No one did.

It was eight thirty in the morning, and, her cellphone penibly stuck between her ear and shoulder as she struggled to zip her jacket to protect herself from the freezing cold, Erin tried to swallow her disappointment.

“Aye I’m sorry love, it looks like you’re going to have to get a cab,” her Ma announced before yelling something at her Granda in the distance.

Erin couldn’t help but notice the fact that she didn’t seem that sorry, not at all in fact. “Your Da was going to come get you, but there’s a problem of some kind where the reception is, and he had to take Orla.”

Erin nodded, even though her Ma couldn’t see her. “Yeah, sure. I’ll just - ”

“We’ll give you the money back for the cab when you arrive. Alright, I gotta go love, we’re checking the hair accessories for the big day - see you in a bit.” And with that, she hung up.

Well.

Here went her big welcome home, eh.

Again, it was nothing, though, she reasoned. She was a grown up now, of course she understood that something had come up, and that this all delayed their big reunion from only an hour, tops. So really, there was no reason to get upset.

None.

She wished she wasn’t getting upset.

From what she told her, Clare would be putting together gift bags now, and there was absolutely no doubt that Michelle was still snoring. Pocketing her cell as best as she could, Erin bit the inside of her cheek and started looking for the only plan B she had left, ignoring the burning in her eyes. It really was nothing - she’ll be fine.

It didn’t matter that she took forever to get a cab, for some reason, or that her luggage fell over her foot when they tried to put it in the truck, or that her handbag crashed on the floor and spilled everywhere.

Erin did know she tended to be over dramatic - and yes, maybe borderline crazy, Ma wasn't completely wrong - but she was more mature now, so instead of getting riled up, instead of being crushed by the fact that her family didn’t seem to have missed her as much as she did them, and that the land she grew up on was sending her sign after sign that she wasn’t welcomed back, Erin breathed.

Instead of being violently overwhelmed by memories at every corner of the place she’d grown up in, the place where they met and it all began, she did - she tried to breathe, slowly, carefully, squeezing her scarf in her hand a little too tight.

(That was another thing about your close ones not coming to get you at the airport after you left your country to run away: there wasn’t much to distract you from the memories you were running away from.)

She wouldn’t cry. She was just tired, and being stupid, and she wasn’t coming home with puffy red eyes - no way.

They passed the mall they all used to hang out at, and her throat tightened so much, it felt like the air had left the inside of the car. She saw the movie theater he was always so eager to bring her to in the distance, and a familiar pang of missing shot through her chest. Her heart twisted that particular way when they drove by the hiding spot of their early days, but even though she wondered how she was still holding her tears, she did.

After what felt like an eternity, the car finally pulled up her street, and Erin hadn’t shed one silly tear. She’d done it. She could do it.

By the time she pushed their small barrier and started for the couple of stairs, all Erin wanted was to collapse into bed and black out. Orla and Da wouldn’t be home, Ana would probably still be asleep, and given the day and time, Grandda would have gone for his walk. She’d give a big hug to Ma and Aunt Sarah, pretext a headache, and go lie down.

As she struggled to get her bags through the door while keeping the damn thing open, Erin shouted, cursing herself at how strangled her voice sounded. “I’m home!”

Finally managing to get everything and herself inside, she collapsed on the wall behind her, only now taking in the wallpaper, the coat hangers, the shoes by the entry.

Damn - she was home.

The emotion was so striking, she didn’t quite have the time to stop the tears from welling up in her yes, taken by surprise.

She moved before it all became too much and shrugged off her coat, feeling her insides warm at the familiar surroundings, and yet her heart ache at not having the usual voices that went with it, the faces that she wanted so much to see. She shouted again, but there was still no response.

Ma and aunt Sarah must have had something to do, then. It was fine, she thought as she pushed the living door open. It was, she’d just grab a glass of water and -

“SURPRISE!”

And just like that, Saturday Night started playing from somewhere, overcoming the shouting and the party whistles that had broken the silence so suddenly, Erin had jumped out, her back hitting doorframe behind her. There was colours and and noise and arms waving in every direction, and Erin vaguely realized that she was covered in confetti that matched the balloons and the hats.

Somehow, she noticed that they all had one: Michelle, up on the sofa, Clare, jumping in place at the other side of the room, Orla and the giant teddy bear she was holding. Anna, her pink one stuck on top of her mass of blond hair. Aunt Sarah and Grandda, both holding hands and arboring the same green one. Her Ma, her Da, tears in their eyes, huge grins on their faces, red and yellow ones falling over.

Her brain had stopped functionning, so she couldn't be sure, but Erin thought that her legs were giving out.

Before they did, though, both her parents closed the distance and hugged her close, whispering things she couldn't quite make sense of just yet. Their voices in her ear, their smell surrounding her, Erin broke her promise to herself, and finally let the tears come flooding as she held them back as close as she could.

She was home.

#erin x james #james x erin #jerin #derry girls #fanfiction #mine

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whump-town · 3 years

Text

It’s A Wonderful Life

Part One & Part Two

Have a great night everyone!

There’s smoke hissing its ascension to the sky. Thick and black near the hood of the car but as it goes up he finds he can’t track it much further than a few feet. It wisps off, sweltering to nothing. The world has sunken into this pitter-patter of noises. The soft tink, tink, tink of cooling metal and engines filling the air.

Letting his eyes slide shut, Aaron falls.

Haley.

a cold hand brushes down his cheek

she looks down at him, her kind smile

she says something to him… he loses it

He blinks his eyes open, blood-caked to the corners. It’s sticky, thickly hardening all over his face. He can taste it on his tongue, down the back of his throat. Which aches from the smoke burning his airway. He coughs hard, jostling his sore body, and for a moment he finds himself hovering. Unable to breathe in as his body tenses. His vision dancing black dots as the pain threatens to pull him back under.

Gasping he wraps his right arm around his torso, crying out when his trembling fingers hit raw, split skin. He closes his eyes, trying to force himself to calm down. Breathe. He just needs to breathe and the rest will come along. Though it hurts to expand his chest and his throat tries to close around itself he forces steady breaths.

Holding it in each lungful… and releasing it as slowly as he can. Steady.

Something rustles behind him and he remembers Jack-- if his heart is racing, fear nearly overcoming every tactical and first-aide training rule he’s ever been taught then Jack has to be terrified. It hits him, that the severity of his own wounds can not be the priority. No matter what happens has to stay awake. Has to be present so that someone can explain to Jack what’s going on. So that he gets out of here.

“Jack?” The crack of his own voice startles him and he knows Jack doesn’t like it either. Jack whimpers softly behind Hotch, kicking his little foot out in protest. Great, he thinks, solid one, Aaron. Rasping and slurring his son’s name is not the best way to connect. He clears his throat, needing a moment to recover as he puts all of his energy into steadying himself. To sound confident, of a sound body. “Buddy? You okay?”

He’s not sure what exactly it is that he’s expecting. There’s no way Jack’s going to use sign language, he doesn’t even know the sign for okay and if he did Hotch wouldn’t be able to see it.

The realization of what he has to do… is too much.

He pulls in a shaking breath, frustrated with himself. He can feel himself slipping, losing his facilities. The strain produces sharp pain in his chest but he ignores it. Forcing his right hand off of his side he tries to wipe the blood off of it, rubbing his palm into his dress pants. Then, despite how deeply his chest aches, he forces his arm back. Slipping it back until he comes in contact with one of those light-up sketchers.

Jack giggles and taps his foot against Hotch’s fingers.

To think he’d thought those shoes were impractical…

He winces, holding his breath as a wave of intense pain spreads across his chest. A stabbing pain that leaves him lightheaded. “Jack…” he tries to lift his head. To force himself to stay awake but with a muffled grunt his eyes roll into the back of his head. Body limply leaning to the right.

aaron?

haley draws lazy patterns into his bare hip, smiling at him

he opens his mouth-- a question on the tip of his tongue

she smiles and leans close, silencing him with a gentle kiss

her fingers slip up the back of his head

“stay here,” she whispers, “just a moment longer”

self-preservation has never been his finest skill

The windshield is a spiderwebbed mess.

This isn’t the first time that he has been trapped between a steering wheel and a splintering windshield. His history with Bureau lent SUV’s and using them like federal grade battering rams is well known-- something either gets him a little heat or a strangely approving nod.

Through the windshield, he sees an accumulation of red. Not the splatter of his blood on the glass but the cars. A firetruck pulling up just feet away with a mighty puff of exertion and the great low hum of the engine.

His ears, never having healed properly after the bombing in New York, a ring with a sharp ache. Crying, strained borderline screaming shakes the car. His chest aches with the intensity of it. Stomach twisting sickly with each miserably, pitched, nearly choked inhale.

Jack.

Jack is kicking at his hand, blindly lost to isolation. Unable to communicate, probably overstimulated. Everything just keeps so loud and Hotch can’t stand that he can’t do anything to help. He doesn’t have anything, actually. Not those ear muffs Garcia spent so long researching, that muffle out all the sound. They’d had a bit of trouble trying to find the right size.

He-- He always about the things that Jack needs. Extra socks and pants and one of those knit hats that he likes to wear regardless of the season. Hotch thinks he likes to feel the pressure against his ears. Jack likes to crawl into his lap and place one of Hotch’s hands over each of his ears. He feels immense understanding for his son in these moments. Rocking back and forth and making the happiest little noises...

He needs to do something. Find it within himself to get out. He can calm Jack down, he just needs to get back there.

All he manages is a choked inhale, Jack’s poor little sobs breaking as makes himself breathless. Gagging, weakly trying to spit the copper taste in his mouth, Hotch chokes on the thick warm blood sliding down his throat.

“you’re scaring me, aaron.”

he looks at her…

trying to make every detail of her face a permanent fixture in his mind

the blonde hair that he was so glad that Jack got

better that he look like her

Haley is everything sweet; the only good thing he ever had

and Jack is so much like her gentle and loving

“aaron?”

he leans into her touch, “I’m okay”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Two hands brace both sides of his neck, at the base. Hands padded by thick gloves. “Brown-eyed boy!” the other man greets. “How’s your head feeling, big fella?”

Hotch opens his mouth, lips twisting into a pained grimace as he grunts. Pale, half-lidded eyes rolling back. Writhes, sucking in small rasped breathes.

“Easy,” the man soothes. Hotch is moving too much, jostling his spine dangerously. Given the state of his side-- flesh torn open by his door having caved in. The whole thing buckling in. Carl, the man currently using his own hands to hold Hotch’s neck, is providing as a brace, a point guard. He sits wedged right there with him, ready to help the guys on the other side.

“Just hold still,” Carl whispers. “You’re okay.”

Having George Foyet stand overtop him, the blade of his knife dragging down his flesh. Taunting, playing… he’d known then what was coming. Expected the blinding pain and known that no matter what he did, no matter what he felt he could not show fear. Could not submit to showing his pain.

Here, the vague chill of numbness spreading down his toes. Knowing that he can’t feel his feet, that he isn’t moving them either. Nothing-- not the prospect of dying here in this car-- is as harrowing as the realization that he can’t see or hear Jack.

He swallows thickly, draining his body of its resources as he struggles to bring himself to full consciousness. His lips part but he hasn’t got enough air.

“Alright, alright.” Carl tries to keep him calm but he sees the blood. Watching the blood bubble, foamy and pale as it slides down Aaron’s chin. “Don’t speak,” he rushes. Carl leans his head out the car’s window, shouting down to the other worker’s slowly working out how to get the door open. “He’s got busted lung guys, you’re gonna have to be quicker.”

“How bad?”

Carl looks back to Aaron, wincing in sympathy. “Just hurry, he’s not going to be able to take much more of this.”

“J,,,” Aaron can’t breathe. Each breath a little thinner, the taste of blood heavy on his tongue. “Jack,” he mouths, voice catching on just enough of the sounds that Carl understands.

The other man nods, smiling as he motions with his head to their left. “Jack? Is that your boy’s name?” Carl laughs, easy, light. “He’s sitting out there with my partner. Kid’s got so many rocks in his pockets, I don’t know if we’ll be able to pick the poor fella up.”

Hotch looks as far to the left as he can. Eyes burning with the strain. He can see out the door, vision blurring just enough to obscure the asphalt. To Jack. His happy little hands dancing up at his head as he rocks back on forth on his feet. Unaware of the wreckage just behind him.

Shutting his eyes he smiles too. For Jack and his little clicks, above all else, he just wants to hear those little clicks.

“Stay with me, pal. We promised Jack you’d be alright. Come on--”

But Aaron knows that’s not true. He’s worked these scenes a thousand times. Knows what to say to the children when they ask too many questions-- “Where’s mommy?” “Is my daddy gonna die?”-- and how far to move them from the scene. How to point out clouds shaped like castles so that they don’t hear the pained cries of their mothers. Drawing their attention to the grasshopper in the tall grass so that when the EMTs shout with fear, their fathers bleeding out on the asphalt with nothing but rough gravel beneath them… they never suspect a thing.

This day, this moment will be remembered by the person who took the time to talk to them. Who sat with them in the grass. Not the blood.

Jack will not ask where his father is.

And Aaron finds a great bit of relief knowing Jack won’t be lied to.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #jack hotchner #haley hotchner #hotch whump #hurt hotch

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lunarfly · 3 years

Note

Honestly, you should check out this Dante Wood fella on Quora. He’s this multi potterhead ship hater who asks many rude and insulting questions on Romione, Harmione, Hinny and Dramione shippers. He’s literally become the bane of their existence. I almost would feel bad for them but then I realize these are the same users/shippers that ask insincere questions to the other ship/shipper. Guess karma is a bitch;)

Hello, thank you for the ask!

Yeah, I checked out his profile and I'm not so impressed. He's hateful and spiteful. But I must admit, he has got a very fair point. Before I talk about that though, I'll just bring up a few things:

Even though he often underlines very important issues with our fandom's "ship wars," his account still shouldn't exist. He's rude and he goes the wrong way about sending his messages. He keeps spitting venom out of his mouth when he should try to be logical and explain his points without any insults and attacks. But when do respectful people ever get anything, it's always the drama and over exaggeration that draws people's attention.

He's hypocritical. He says he hates the fact that shippers constantly generalize the other sides of the fandom but he also generalizes shippers himself. He calls out shippers collectively, as if we were all to blame for a few people's toxic behavior and generalizing tendencies. He generalizes us (the shippers) by saying we all generalize each other (the other shippers).

He hates on Harmione/Romione/Hinny/Dramione and only justifies his hatred by the shippers. But just hating it isn't bad at all, everyone's allowed to hate something. The thing is, he also claims that all of these ships "suck" and are all "garbage." He never presents any arguments or constructive criticism, he just says they're objectively bad ships because they have bad shippers. I'm pretty sure everyone can see the problem with this logic.

Now about his messages. I must say, I agree with him a whole lot. So many people in this fandom tend to generalize everyone. Examples of this?

"Harmione shippers haven't read the books! They only ship it because of the movies!"

"You only ship Hermione with ___ because you use her as a self-insert tool! You ___/Hermione shippers only want to project your own feelings onto her, you don't actually understand her character!"

"All Romione/Hinny shippers are toxic! None of them respect our ship!"

"All Harmione/Dramione shippers hate Ron and Ginny"

And much more.

While many of those claims do apply to many shippers, they don't apply to everyone. And generalizing a group of people while talking about them negatively is obviously wrong and harms both sides of the "war."

The ridiculous argument that "Harmony shippers haven't read the books" started (or gained popularity) in 2005 when J.K. Rowling said this in an interview:

JKR: Well I think anyone who is still shipping Harry/Hermione after this book –

ES: [whispered] Delusional!

JKR: Uh ’ no! But they need to go back and reread, I think.

That one simple comment still affects the H/Hr shipping community to this day, even after JKR admitted the possibility of H/Hr in 2014.. People are still calling us dumb and delusional, people still claim that we haven't read the books - and this argument has been expanded after people started noticing how the movies were sort of pushing a H/Hr narrative - people still make fun of us and many don't take us seriously. But people were shipping Harmione long before the release of the movies and they (including me) have written countless analyses pointing out moments from the books and reasons why Harry and Hermione would make a good couple but this ridiculous generalization, a kind of rumor, is still around and I don't think it's going to leave any time soon.

The Ron and Ginny bashing rumor is more understandable since a huge part of the H/Hr fandom absolutely hate the two gingers and will find anything to tear them down and make them seem as cartoonishly evil as possible. But we still shouldn't apply this to everyone. I, for one, love Ron and Ginny and know many Harmione shippers who feel the same way.

(In the following paragraphs I am talking about the HP fandom generally but obviously these things don't apply to every person individually.)

The majority of the Harry Potter fandom these days only truly accepts book lovers into discussions and their "main" fandom (people who solely make video edits or such are in a different kind of fandom). But everyone who's a book lover and doesn't ship Romione/Hinny or dislikes Ron/Ginny will slowly be forced to either liking these or leaving the fandom. Because, according to most of the fandom, if you don't like these characters/pairings, you haven't read the books, you're toxic and you're stupid. If you like Harmione, you're automatically labeled with "Movie Watcher," "Weasley Basher," "Toxic Garbage." People will start making assumptions about you and your work before they know you. Even if people learn that you're not any of those, these generalizations won't stop. No matter how much you do, no one will take you seriously, no one will care, no one will accept you, no one will explore your work. You will only be acknowledged in the book-loving fandom if you ship Romione and Hinny or if you're an extremely toxic person (that way you'll get mocked for every word that comes out of your mouth, but you'll deserve it if you're really a toxic person). This fandom also tends to misunderstand the words "toxic" and "bashing." Any sort of criticism is labeled with "bashing" and the author of that criticism is labeled with "toxic." Not that there aren't people who are toxic and hateful but our fandom tends to fail to see the difference between constructive criticism and hate.

And there are also those "big" accounts who are praised for every word they say. They can bash any ship or character they want to and the majority of the fandom (the book-loving, canon-ship-loving one that I explained) will agree with it and spread their words around. When they say something about one shipper, it will automatically be applied to everyone who ships that. If they say that any ship with Harry and Hermione that isn't Romione and Harmione suck, the majority of the fandom will accept it as objective truth and since they have most of the fandom supporting them they feel comfortable repeating and accepting these things. As a result of these things being accepted as common knowledge, the people who don't agree feel isolated from the fandom. For example, I do. I follow lots of people who ship Romione and Hinny or love Ron and Ginny because I also feel the same way about these characters and pairings. But I can't go a day without seeing at least one of them degrade Harmione and send hate to the ship + shippers. The more hate my ship gets, the more these rumors, labels and arguments spread around. And Harmione shippers get called stupid for loving a fictional pairing, so I constantly feel invalidated in this fandom, even if no one addresses me specifically. The ideas that Harmione is a horrible ship and its shippers are toxic and so on are so engrained in our fandom that they're seen as almost "rules" of the fandom and no single person can change that. I constantly feel like I'm invalid for liking Harmione and this isn't normal. Our fandom pushes the idea that the only intelligent people are those who support the canon pairings and disapprove of ships like Harmione, Fremione and etc. I understand the hatred against Dramione and every other toxic ship, but I can't for my life figure out why people feel the need to tear down every healthy fanon ship. But they do it anyway. They consider everyone who disagrees with them "stupid" and unintelligent. I feel like I don't belong every time I see comments like "Ugh, how can someone ship Harry and Hermione? They're like siblings, people! You clearly haven't read the books." or "Anyone who ships this doesn't have a brain, they're too strongly influenced by the movies. They clearly don't understand Harry and Hermione." Sometimes I see my own friends calling H/Hr "strange" and such and they clearly don't help me feel any better. I feel the need to go in Harmony-only spaces to recharge myself and regain the confidence and get the validation I need. Otherwise, I feel completely isolated and invalid.

I can't blame only one side of the fandom though. The shippers have been divided for decades now and they have been throwing insults at each other ever since. It's a never-ending war. The bad side of this today is that the book-loving fandom (the "main" fandom) has merged with the canon ships fandom and now these are inseparable. If you like the HP books, you must also like the canon pairings and dislike most of the others, otherwise you're never going to feel like you belong. So now anyone who ships Harmione won't be able to properly interact with the "main" fandom because nobody thinks their opinions that Harry and Hermione are a better match than Ron and Hermione are valid. Same thing with Dramione shippers. Do you see how Dramiones and Harmonians don't really engage in discussions or just don't interact with the "main" fandom in general (unless they're defending their ship)? They have created their own spaces, separated from the "main" fandom and that's where they are most of the time. That's where I go when I need more positivity and validation. I have the discord server and the Harmione subreddit to go to. That's the only place I'm really comfortable in. If I go to a more "general" part of the fandom like the main HP subreddit or some of the biggest HP books fan accounts, it will affect me negatively because I will mostly see Romione and Hinny be glorified and Harmione treated like trash. Not only my ship but also the shippers. Which is probably the main reason I find the fandom toxic. All of this just ties into the stupid generalization and name-calling that causes the rift between OBHWF and Harmione shippers which leads me to seeing both sides of the fandom be attacked and bombarded depending on which space I choose to spend my time in.

I'm not going to pretend that the Harmione fandom is full of angels who are oppressed by Romione shippers. Because whenever I go to a Harmione-oriented space, I will find anti-Ron/Romione/Hinny/Ginny (and their stans) posts. Harmonians will often call Romiones toxic and hateful and will basically do everything in order to insult them. And they return the favor excellently. This happens with the majority of the fandoms so both of the sides just think every shipper is like the toxic shippers they interacted with, causing generalization and all of the problems I talked about above. And that forms a toxic environment.

I generally just talked about my experiences with generalization and insulting but there are many more things wrong with the fandom, so I definitely agree with Dante Wood in that aspect. But again, I don't think every single shipper is toxic and hateful and I most certainly don't think that Romione, Harmione and Hinny are trash (Dramione just might be). I pointed out all of my reasons for disliking his account at the beginning of my post. I just wish he fixed those problems with his account, then he would have such a great one.

I almost would feel bad for them but then I realize these are the same users/shippers that ask insincere questions to the other ship/shipper. Guess karma is a bitch;)

Here's where I get confused. Why did you send me this message? I am not one of those people who go and attack a part of the fandom I disagree with. I don't constantly attack Romione and Hinny, nor their shippers. I actually love those ships. I might criticize Dramione and other toxic ships but I'm not the one at war with them. I know I wrote a post basically calling Dramiones brainless once and I regret that. I think I'm a better person now. No matter how much I hate this ship I won't send hate to its shippers (P*dophilic ships are a different deal though, those ships are even more serious). So how exactly is this a consequence for what I've done when I've done basically nothing? And even if I did, how is Dante Wood's account supposed to affect me? He talks about the toxicity of shippers while being toxic and hateful himself. Am I supposed to take that seriously? He calls us hypocritical and proceeds to do the same himself. That's not the kind of person I take criticism seriously from (ignoring the fact that many of his posts aren't even criticism, it's just hate).

Anyway, thank you for taking your time to send me that message! Sharing my thoughts on Dante Wood's thoughts and account was fun! :)

#harry potter fandom

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outlier-rookie · 4 years

Text

Of Blood and Greatness - Chapter 2

Chapter 2/?? - Money Trouble

AO3 Link https://archiveofourown.org/works/26305741/chapters/64050937#workskin

***

*repeatedly bonks head against wall*

I split the original chapter one into two parts to cut down the word count but it got even fucking longer

***

A lone jackrabbit darted across the ground as four horses broke through the trees surrounding Horseshoe Overlook. The constant rhythm of their hooves mostly drowned out the natural ambiance of the world around them as the horses thundered down the worn dirt path. Despite having only just gotten back to camp, Arthur couldn’t find himself complaining about being back out on the open road again. With a click, he nudged Admiral on and spurred the horse to pull ahead of Charles and Javier until he was alongside the teen.

“So, where exactly are you leading us?” He asked as the kid lead their strange little group down a less-traveled path along the base of Horseshoe Overlook. As they started down the shallow incline of the land, Arthur could easily make out the shimmering waters of the Dakota River ahead of them.

“’s a place called Cattail Pond.” The teen responded. “It’s a nice little area. Good for fishing and the water’s fresh from up the mountain. Fortuna likes it a lot up there. Don’tcha girl?” They continued, giving their horse, apparently named Fortuna, a loving pat long her neck. Fortuna nickered in appreciation, lightly tossing her mane as they rode on.

“Can’t say I’ve heard of it,” Arthur admitted. “Sounds like a decent place.” (Y/N) made a noise of agreement and nodded along to his words.

“Sometimes, a couple of deer will show up to graze and get a drink!” Arthur nodded and turned to look away from the kid as a small smile graced his features at the excitement dancing in the kids' words as they spoke.

“Ya hear that Charles? If we’re lucky we might be able to bag some deer for Pearson since he’s always going on about not having enough meat.” Arthur called back.

“It’d certainly save me from going hunting tomorrow.” Came the other man’s reply. The conversation petered off from there, and Arthur was content to let the silence hang between them as the teen continued to lead them along the Dakota River.

Arthur found himself occasionally looking to the teen as they continued along the horse worn roads. Once again he found himself taking note of their ratty hat, too-big shirt, and tangled, dirt covered hair. Unconsciously, Arthur found himself thinking of things better left in the past. About Mary and her choice of a clean society life over him and his life of killing and thieving. As much as it had hurt him to his core all them years ago, he had long come to terms with the fact it was the right choice for her in the end. A life on the run as a killer's wife was no life he wanted for her and by god did she deserve better. And what if they’d had a kid? Would that kid have grown up to be like (Y/N)? Dressed in clothes slightly better than rags, listening to folks in town talking, hoping for a sliver of promising information? How soon before Dutch started insisting they run jobs like him and the others? Would he have had to bury his own kid after a shootout gone to hell?

What about Issac?

His boy.

His beautiful little boy who would forever be barely older than Jack was now.

Arthur was forcefully brought out of his self-pitying thought spiral when Admiral cried out, rearing up and unceremoniously throwing him from the saddle. A cry of warning that probably came from Javier rang in Arthur’s ears as he landed heavily on his back, the crash stealing the air from his lungs. His world spun something fierce and he was vaguely aware of the feeling of the earth rumble beneath him as he lay there trying to breathe. Groaning to himself and muttering a quiet, pained curse, Arthur gingerly sat up as Charles appeared at his side offering a welcome hand up.

“You alright there Arthur? I almost ran you over.” Javier asks as Boaz came to a halt.

“Yeah, I’m alright.” Arthur replied, grunting as Charles pulled him back to his feet. He back protested as he carefully flexed his muscles, trying to lessen the pain racing up and down his back.

“You alright mister?” Arthur looked up and caught the worried look (Y/N) was sending him and nodded with a grunt as he looked around, quickly finding Admiral ten or so feet away, ears flicking back and forth. Arthur could hear the stallion’s huffing even with the distance between them. Sighing, Arthur called out calmly to his agitated horse, gently drawing Admiral’s attention to him as he shushed and soothed the animal. Seeing his human approaching, Admiral dutifully strode over to Arthur and less than gently shoved his entire head against the man’s chest as soon as he was within range, snorting as Arthur ran a hand along his neck.

“Yeah. You’re ok boy.” Arthur said softly as he fished out a peppermint as a reward for calming down so quickly and returning without much fuss. “Now why’d you go a buck me off like that boy?”

“Did you not hear me when I said to look out for the snake?”

Arthur looked up again at (Y/N) spoke and felt a tiny bit of heat upon his cheeks.

“Ah. No, sorry. Was lost in my thoughts.”

“That’s not like you Arthur. Everything alright?” Charles’ deep voice was like a welcome balm on his bruised pride. Still, Arthur waved off the other man’s worry with a small smile.

“Well, we’re nearly there so mount up and let’s get going.” (Y/N) commanded, turning Fortuna back around to the direction they were headed.

“Pushy kid, aren’t ya?” Arthur commented as he swung himself back on to Admiral’s back.

“We still gotta ride all the way back to camp. And besides, Cattail Pond may be out of the way but it isn’t completely untravelled.”

“Alright, alright. Let’s get going then.”

The remainder of the ride was again spent mostly in silence, as Arthur winced with every jolt of Admiral’s gait. The trip from then on out was almost entirely uneventful, save for the poor fella they passed who was yelling every profanity under the sun as a lone wolf chased his horse. Taking pity on the poor man, (Y/N) drew their repeater and without commanding Fortuna to slow, fired a few warning shots at the wolf, who decided his fleeing target was no longer worth the effort and fled the way he’d come. The rider didn’t even look back.

Arthur was mildly impressed at how at ease the teen was when needing to shoot from the saddle and when he commented as much, they simply shrugged and replied “Like I said, I can shoot any gun and I don’t miss. Those bullets hit right where I wanted them to.”

It wasn’t too much longer before (Y/N) was leading the three outlaws up the slope of the mountain.

“We’re coming up on where I hid everything.” They called back. “There’s a little abandoned house near Cattail Pond. The whole thing doesn’t look like it’s been touched in years.”

“And you’re sure it’s secure?”

“I sure am Mister Arthur!” They said, turning back to look at him. “Only way in is a window with loose boards but it’s too small for adults. Especially you and Mister Smith.” They finished with a laugh. “There it is!”

Arthur turned his gaze from the cheerful teen and true to their word, a smallish boarded-up house sat perched upon a ledge.

“Uhh, shouldn’t there be a pond? It was in the name…” Javier asked in confusion.

“It’s a bit further up and just over the rest of this part of the mountain.” (Y/N) clarified. Fortuna came to a halt with a tug on her reins as (Y/N) dismounted, the three men following their lead. Arthur briefly checked his ammo out of habit, noticing from the corner of his eye that Javier and Charles had done the same before following the teen up the mountain path. Naturally, the house had seen better days. The door and windows were all boarded up and almost looked more secure than several prisons Arthur had found himself inside for one reason or another.

(Y/N) walked with a purpose to one of the windows that looked just as inaccessible as the door, yet without pausing they grabbed one of the board and gave it a few tugs.

“Charles, could you give them a hand?” Arthur asked.

“No no no! I got it!”

“You sure kid?”

“Yup!” They replied, punctuated with another tug. “It comes off! I promise! I just made sure it wouldn’t fall off on its own while I was gone.” Arthur nodded as the teen grunted again as they struggled with the board.

“Almost got it-!”

With a final groan, the board finally came loose and sent the teen stumbling back into Arthur. He caught the falling teen with ease and barely more than a soft ‘oof’ at the collision.

“Told ya it comes off.” (Y/N) grinned. Arthur rolled his eyes fondly as they (h/c) haired youth dropped the board to the ground and went back to grab the next. As suspicious as he was of them when he first heard their claims, he found the teen had grown on him in the very short time he’d known them. A little voice in the back of his head whispered that they could still be planning some sort of trap but he tampered it down. He could not for the life of him explain why, but whenever he looked at them a strange feeling welled up inside of him. It was warm and kind of tingly but it also made his chest tighten and made his lungs feel like they weren’t working properly. Again he was brought back to the haunting blue pools of their eyes.

Arthur continued to watch silently as (Y/N) removed two more planks of wood until there was enough of a gap for them to fit through. Slinging their repeater off their back and placing it against the house, (Y/N) pulled themselves through the newly opened window. Javier and Charles silently fanned out to scan the surrounding area while Arthur watched (Y/N) through the window as they walked over to the fireplace and reached up the chimney, pulling a satchel from its hiding place. Next, they walked to a nightstand and pushed it away from the wall, revealing a hole with an old saddlebag sitting inside. Arthur let out an amused chuckle at the sight. The kid was pretty smart to have split up the money inside the hiding place.

“Grab this for me, will ya?” (Y/N) said from the window, holding a lockbox out to him. Stepping back and lifting the lid, Arthur felt himself grinning upon seeing the neat wads of cash lining the interior of the box. He looked up as the kids dropped two old saddlebags and the satchel out the window, all bulging at the seams with money, and onto the ground before once again crawling through the window.

“Good work kid.” Arthur smiled. The grin the kid gave him reminded Arthur of a cat that had gotten the cream or eaten an entire salmon on its own. “How much would you say is in those bags?” He asked Javier and Charles. “I think there’s around five thousand in this little thing.”

“Close to ten in the satchel, I think.” Came Charles’ reply. Javier let out a long whistle.

“At least thirty between the saddlebags. Certainly heavy enough to be that much.” Arthur nodded happily.

“’S good. Real good. Alright, let's load all this up then.” The packing away of the newly retrieved money was a quick affair and it wasn’t too long before Admiral, Boaz, and Tiama all had their saddle bags stuffed as full as possible. Still, there was some that still needed putting away. Arthur put most of it into his own satchel but decided on a whim to hand the kid the old satchel with a few thousand in it. “We’re trusting you not to betray us now kid.”

“Course not!” they replied with a scoff. “Like I’d damage the goodwill I’ve worked up with you now!”

“Right then. Well, where to next?” He asked as he prepared to mount Admiral. “We’ve gotten a good amount of our money back, is the rest nearby?”

“The rest?”

“Yeah, the rest. We got nearly fifty thousand right now but we’re still a long ways off from the total.”

The silence that followed was near deafening before the kids' quiet voice spoke up.

“B-but. This is everything!”

Arthur’s gaze shot over to the kid, their eyes wide as all hell as they repeatedly opened their mouth to speak only for the words to get stuck in their throat.

“You said you had all our money!” Javier interrupted angrily as he stepped closer to the scared teen.

“I did! I, well, I thought I did!”

“What do you mean you thought?” Arthur asked, his voice soft, despite the mild sting at the idea the kid had lied to them.

“I mean when I went to grab the money, this is all that was hidden there! I didn’t know there was more than this!” Arthur bit out a curse and ran a hand over his beard, thinking about what he should do next. The kid seemed genuinely upset at the revelation that they hadn’t actually gotten all of the gang’s money.

“You gotta believe me Mister!” They begged. Tears were starting to gather in their eyes and the sight made Arthur’s heart clench. “I-I swear! I thought I had gotten it all! I- I didn’t know! I-“

“’S Alright kid, I believe ya.” Arthur sighed, walking over and giving what he hoped was a reassuring pat on the kids shoulder. “Let’s just get back to camp so we can figure things out from there.” With a gentle push belying his anger, Arthur guided the distressed teen back to their horse, quietly telling them to mount up before swinging himself back onto Admiral’s saddle.

The ride back to camp felt slower. The horses all seemed to pick up on the less than cheerful moods of their riders and showed no desire to speed things along. Arthur was about to reassure (Y/N) that everything would be fine when the loud crack of a gun startled the horses and sent Arthur into fight or flight mode.

“Thems Dutch’s boys! Get em’!” A nasally Irish accented voice called out and Arthur heard Javier say, what was probably a curse, in Spanish. Arthur frantically looked around for somewhere to take cover but they were as good as sitting ducks. Yelling out a one-word order, he spurred Admiral into action, drawing his revolver as the stallion raced across the trail.

“Ride!”

The O’Driscolls whooped and hollered as they gave chase, firing wildly at the retreating men and teen as they made their mad dash over Cumberland Falls. One shot hit too close to Boaz and the horse reared, nearly bucking Javier from the saddle. As Admiral was practically running up Boaz’s behind, Arthur had no time to react and the two collided with such force, Arthur once again found himself flying from his saddle. With no time to catch his breath, Arthur sprang back up, running to the bank where several large rocks sat and slid down behind one. Taking a second to compose himself and draw his gun, Arthur peeked out from behind the rock and the world seemed to slow as Arthur picked his targets and lined up his revolver with the men trying to kill him. He breathed out slowly and squeezed the trigger and nailing one of the O’Driscolls right between the eyes. Sweeping his gun and gaze across the horizon, Arthur sent three more bullets flying towards his enemies with each hitting their mark in the other fella's chest.

A burning pain slashed across his upper arm of his off-hand and sent him ducking back behind cover, allowing him enough of a reprise to give his arm a once over. A tear in his shirt sleeve showed that he was little more than grazed by the bullet. Swallowing the pain dancing up his arm, he poked up from behind his measly cover again and prepared to return fire only for the O’Driscoll he was aiming for to go down with a spray of red mist as a bullet tore through his skull.

Chancing a look in the direction of the shot, Arthur was surprised to see (Y/N) behind another rock glaring down the barrel of their repeater, nailing O’Driscoll after O’Driscoll. The dumb Irish bastards, not expecting a majority of their forces to be taken out by a teenager, stagged and balked giving Charles and Javier, who had recovered from Arthur and Admiral crashing into him and Boaz, plenty of time to take down the rest of them.

When the last O’Driscoll fell, only the sound of the waterfall echoed around them as Arthur breathed out a sigh of relief.

“You alright there Arthur?” Charles’ deep soothing voice called out.

“I’ll live, just a graze. Stings more than anything.” He sighed, feeling the sudden tension and adrenaline fade from his body. Tiredly, he whistled for Admiral and quietly patted his neck. “You’re alright boy.” He muttered quietly before turning back to the others. “Any other injuries?”

“None here.” Javier replied, Charles nodding silently beside him. Arthur nodded and turned to ask (Y/N) the same only to see them staring at one of the dead O’Driscolls.

“Y’alright kid?”

“Hmm?” (Y/N)’s eyes stayed fixated on the dead body, a thin ribbon of pinkish-red water trailing from the hole in the man’s head.

“Come on.” Arthur said gently, guiding them towards Fortuna who perked up at her approaching rider and quickly attempted to eat some of the kids hair drawing a laugh from the quietly distressed youth. Arthur left (Y/N) to gather themselves as Javier silently signaled him over.

“We got a problem.”

“Besides the O’Driscolls?” Arthur said, gesturing to the dead bodies in the river.

“I can’t find the saddlebag you gave me.”

“What?”

“I think it might have fallen off when Admiral ran into Boaz.” The Mexican gunslinger continued. “If I had to guess, it went over the waterfall.”

“Shit.” Arthur spun around and walked up to Admiral, seeing that he too had lost the saddlebag filled with some of the money. “We can’t stay to look. Someone likely heard the shooting and I’d rather not be around if some lawmen show up.”

“What are we going to tell Dutch?” Charles asked, calm as ever, as Arthur swung himself back onto the saddle. “We already had less than believed and now we have lost even more of it.”

“Leave Dutch to me. Let’s just get goin’.”

Within a matter of minutes, the four of them were back on their way to camp, the air quiet like before but with a completely different feeling in the air. Gone was the jovial hope and promise of a fat stack of money awaiting them. Instead, a quiet disappointment and unease hung around them; especially from (Y/N). Silently, Arthur waved Charles and Javier ahead and slowed Admiral down till he was side by side with Fortuna. (Y/N) didn’t respond to Arthur’s presence, quietly fiddling with a few strands of Fortuna’s mane, their hands barely holding the reins. Arthur took a moment to note that Fortuna made no attempt to throw her head or wander elsewhere as her rider neglected to guide her.

“Hey.” He spoke up quietly. “Y’all right?”

(Y/N) shrugged one shoulder, not looking up from their fiddling, but stayed silent. Their ratty hat was pulled low over their face obscuring their eyes but Arthur got the feeling that the kid was doing their best to not cry in front of him.

“Hey.” He said to them, voice still far gentler than he’d heard himself sound in a long time. “Look at me.”

(Y/N) peaked out from under the brim of their hat and just like Arthur suspected, their eyes were wet with unshed tears.

“It’s goin’ to be alright. Dutch’ll understand.” The kid didn’t react and Arthur got the distinct impression they didn’t believe him. Were Arthur a different man he might have been bothered by the fact the kid had little to no hope of things being alright. The world was a dangerous place, especially for kids all on their own. He knew it, John knew it, and countless others too. Still, something he couldn’t put into words made him want to reassure the kid and make them believe in those words again.

God, he was acting like a damn a sentimental fool.

“Shit happens in life kid. But you know what? You still got us a good amount of money.” When the kid replied, Arthur had to strain his ears to hear their mumbled reply.

“I lied though.” They sniffled. “I said I got all your money but I didn’t! And then, most of it fell off the damn waterfall. All because of those damn Malakas!” The last word didn’t sound like English and had a weird foreign quality to it and Arthur made a mental note to ask the kid about it later because it definitely wasn’t a polite word. Realising he was starting to tune out (Y/N), Arthur snapped his thoughts back to them just in time to hear them complain more about the O’Driscolls.

“What happened with those O’Driscoll bastards weren’t your fault kid. Dutch won’t hold it against you. And besides, you helped us take care of em. You’ve definitely proven yourself as a capable person, despite your youth. I’m sure Dutch will be more than happy to have you with us.” The last sentence slipped out of his mouth before he could think better of it but the way the kids eyes shined with hope stopped Arthur from physically kicking himself for practically promising such a thing.

“You really think so Mister?”

“Course!” He continued with a hearty laugh. “You weren’t kidding when you said you didn’t miss. Nailed all three of those O’Driscolls right between their eyes! Poor bastards didn’t know what hit em’.”

The kid made half chuckle noise of agreement but frowned.

“Wish I didn’t have to prove my sharpshooting like that. I was thinking more about hunting for food. Not, killin’.”

Before Arthur could stick his foot in his mouth again by saying something stupid again, Bill’s gruff voice called out from the forest making Arthur realise that they were back at camp.

***

Thank you for reading!

If you have a spare 5 seconds please consider leaving a comment. It helps my motivation and encourages me to write more when I can see proof people like my stories. A like and reblog also let me know people are enjoying this story.

#rdr2 x reader #rdr2 x male reader #rdr2 x female reader #rdr2 x gn reader #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #of blood and greatness #RDR2 crossover

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ahkaraii · 4 years

Text

Belatedly answered ask responses

Thank you for anyone who has sent me stuff!! I LOVE reading them and I’m so sorry I’m awful at replying, but know that I love each and every one. Here’s my attempt to answer a whole lot :D

@doki-dream Thank you so much for enjoying my DBZ comics!! DBZ was my earliest “fandom”, as it were, from over twenty years ago, and it was so, so special to me as a wee child. I think it’s obvious how heavily I project onto Gohan, haha! But now that I’m an adult, it’s really fun to weave in all these ideas I had as a kiddo into a more seamless interpretation that works with the existing canon. I hope you continue to enjoy my interpretations <3

@half-devil-in-red-leather Thank you so much for sticking around with me for so long!! :D :D DMC still has a very dear place in my heart, and always will. As for Trunks and Gohan -- they were my favourite characters, too!! Gohan moreso than Trunks in my case, but I’m awfully fond of all iterations of my purple-haired boy, and someday I’ll get around to drawing all of my Mirai!Trunks headcanons :) Trunks and Goten are fascinating to me as well, because they’re a Unit, yanno? In canon they were rarely seen without the other, and so their development as people is undoubtedly tied together, too. The differences between Mirai!Trunks and main-timeline!Trunks is FASCINATING, and speaks a lot to what are “core” characteristics of Trunks and what are things he’s adapted from his close peers over the years. Anyway, I love Trunks and Goten and Gotenks and rest assured I’ll be posting a lot more about them in the future.

@vejigante Unfortunately I still haven’t watched Dragon Ball Super beyond the two movies (Battle of Gods and Broly) so I’m preeetty much out of the loop as to who these guys are. Maybe someday :0

@katerchip :D :D :D =happy=

@yusuke96universe I don’t exactly take suggestions, mostly because I kinda draw whatever I feel like in any given moment, and drawing something based on someone else’s idea or suggestion is almost always stressful (”what if they don’t like my take” “what if I drew something they find gross” “what if what if what if” etc), but I can safely say I, uhhh, actually don’t know much about Tien??? I’ve skim read the original Dragon Ball manga, but I never watched the original Dragon Ball anime, so Tien is one of those side characters I don’t have a very good grasp on, or, frankly, much interest in. Maybe someday!

@shika-boom Fugaku and Shikaku were not friends, per say, but they were always peripherally aware of each other. They’re both clan heirs, for one, so you gotta know who’s who. Shikaku has always been a nosy nin who collects secrets, while Fugaku’s shameful secrets have always been painfully on display, so it’s not like they didn’t butt heads now and again growing up. I talk a little more about the topic here (x).

@darkblades75 Thank you!! You can read the manga online here (x).

@hydrabellwolf Raditz is an interesting character I’m still getting a handle of, in my own interpretation, but I think he essentially has little to no attachment to his birth family and as a kid he probably thought Goku was pampered trash because Gine kept his pod at home. I don’t think Raditz ever made the connection that Gine sent Goku out to save him from the massacre, so I don’t think Raditz realized Gine “spared” Goku and didn’t think about him (Raditz).

Afterward, he only ever remembers Goku might still exist when he realizes he needs someone he can ally with against Nappa and Vegeta (after establishing he’s Alpha Dog, hence him stealing Gohan and talk-posturing at Goku instead of properly fighting from the start), so it’s not so much familial piety as it is convenience because he’s outnumbered and outgunned and outbullied by the only couple other Saiyan survivors.

@wardstoneus That’s a story for another day, and details I probably won’t get super into because I’ve learned my lesson about delving into unnecessarily dark themes in an ambiguously exploitative way. But, yeah, I have lots of Thoughts about Raditz’s distinctive hairline and how that looks more like Vegeta than it does Bardock, and how exactly that could’ve gone about.

It was not a consensual thing :/ Gine had a rough life, and not just because she was weak and also not very Saiyan like. Bardock married her to protect her after she was pregnant, and he got demoted to low class because of it. (That’s how I explain to myself how Bardock was apparently super fucking strong and yet inexplicably deemed low class).

@loyaltykask Tbh the only other Sakumo ship I find mildly interesting is Sakumo/Tsunade (you can kinda tell why I drew them together in the Five comic in the first place xDD), but, naturally, my take on Sakumo and the Sakumo that gets shipped with Orochimaru in fandom are very different characters with very different pasts that made them that way :’D So if I separate my take and just take fanon Sakumo as it is, there’s lots of interesting fics with him and Orochimaru and such. I don’t tend to read them though, because Orochomaru is never in character (as I interpret him, anyway), and that can be tiring XD

@pretty-rage-machine Thank you!!! I’m sorry (not sorry) that I jump around fandoms so much, my creative brain is stupid and it latches onto new things every 2-6 months without control and I’ve learned to just go with the flow, it allows me to create faster and better works if I let myself explore whatever topic has captured my interest at any given moment instead of forcing it to stick to one thing. Luckily, I am not a professional artist; if you are, don’t do this xDDD Maintaining discipline and motivation beyond personal whim is important in any job!!

That being said, yay!! I’m glad you like my stuff regardless of how much knowledge you have of the canon I’m messing with. Hearing my characterizations are grounded and relatable makes me happy <3<3

@poly-hebdo Thank you!!! :D :D Once again, I apologize for jumping fandoms like the attention deficit fella I am, but I’m glad you’re still digging my works regardless of the fandom!

@jkl-fff Ahh thank you, friend!! (Side note reply: I watched DBZ:A yeeears ago, and I have to rewatch it again STAT because I actually have gotten mentioned by MasakoX (voice of gohan and goku in DBZA) a couple of times now, once in one of his videos and twice on his twitter feed, so I’m like HOLY SHIIIIT!!!! because that’s some Senpai-Noticed-Me shit and eeeeeeek).

It may be obvious by now but I HEAVILY project onto Gohan, he was basically my mental self-insert as a wee lad, so my characterization of him is heavily tinged by that selfish nostalgia; part of the reason I’ve been drawing these comics is to seamlessly integrate that mental image of Gohan I have living in my brain to the actual existing canon, to make him a plausible version of Gohan that can exist between the pages. From that, a fascinating little narrative has been born and I’ve been having fun detailing out the characters that exist around the Gohan I’ve created :D Thank you for enjoying my hot take on it!!

And YES LAWD I am all for bisexual Gohan, he and Dende were totally a cute first romance thing as teenagers, though naturally it had to come to an end as they moved on with their lives -- Dende to proper ascetic Godhood, and Gohan to a more normal human highschool life. Maybe someday I’ll get into the nuanced complexities of that, though I probably won’t post it to twitter, where the audience there seems to crave more canon straight stuff than any wistful doomed gay sideplots (that seems more a Tumblr thing). Ahhhh so many ideas, so little time XDD

#ask responses

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autumnpleaves · 4 years

Note

can you tell me about your friends? -C (you dont have to)

Ooh! Sure, C! No problem! Hmm, since it doesn’t really specify which ‘friends’ you’re talking about, I’m going to talk about IRL and online ones! XD

This is gonna be a long one, but only because I love, appreciate, and care for my friends :)

So let’s start with my...

IRL friends ^-^

I won’t be using their ‘real names’ so... meh.

First up we have Eggen! :)

She’s such a joy to be around (no this is not sarcastic). She has this weird fluctuating emotions sometimes and it’s scary to deal with (but not as scary as Jessie-). Funny story about how we actually met was that we had this conjoining class in Ext. Maths and she was from another class. I was still a new student then, so I wasn’t really familiar with anyone and my friends from *my* class were in Ext. Maths too, and were friends with Eggen, hence we all had this weird group thingy at one portion of the classroom and we hung out together.

Now see, here, we weren’t really *friends* then. More like acquaintances XD

BUT-

I texted her because I saw in her profile, that she was a *HUFFLEPUFF* (which is different now, because it didn’t fit anymore- She’s a slytherin now :)) and I texted her saying “OH MY GOSH! YOU’RE A HUFFLEPUFF TOO?!!” I was a dork. It was stupid. And she replied “Haha, yeah...” and lemme tell you, I’m surprised why she’s still my friend to this day XD

She’s improved a lot since then, and I am honestly quite frankly really *really* proud of her. She’s grown a lot (literally, coz she’s short and metaphorically, coz she’s so talented and skilled and smart now! [Not that she wasn’t smart before, just saying, definitely you can see progress]) She’s talented in drawing, ballet, has great ideas, really hard working, productive, one of the most inspirational person I know :) I’m glad to call her my friend :D

(Only I get to call her Eggen though 0-0 ANyONe else who dares, will get a smack from me-) ALSO did I mention she likes to torture people by throwing her erasers at them? It’s funnnn memories :’)

Next up we haveeeee Lizze!!

Lizze now this one, I didn’t meet until like... at least a year after Eggen. Honestly. Don’t judge me, our school is biiggggggg. She had long hair then. At first I see her here and there, and it was pretty chill. Nothing too... ya know- friendsy just like oh yeah I recognize you. We were in the same scholarship program! So that was fun! :)

We didn’t officially properly meet until like a year after though, and well let’s just say it was fun. She’s one of the only friends I was able to rope into watching Sanders Sides with me and is also a huge geek nerd XD She’s ALSO REALLY REALLY HECKING TALENTED IN WRITING?! LIke WHAT?! WHo even?!

Yeah, such a great friend. She’s one of the people I go to when in need of any writing advice, or just advice in general! She really gives that second opinion and really takes things into account and I’m really just plain glad to call her my friend. I love her so much and like we would discuss and hang out sometimes on VC late into the night and it’d be funny watching her trying to navigate around her messy room :’) Ahh! Fun times XD

Then we have... NICO!! :)

Nico... was my first ever friend. Literally. In the new school. I’m gonna lay down the scenario XD

I walked into class on orientation day, not aa lot of students were there yet, I was early (for once). Nico was sitting on the left side of a table (we had two student tables) two rows from the back, near the windows. I walked in and was like Hm. Where should I sit? So I Decided that I wasn’t gonna be a wimp and decided to walk and sit next to Nico. He was also surprisingly a new student, so we kinda like related for a bit XD

Flashforward and Nico is one of my close friends? I mean he’s there and he’s fun to hang out with XD (I don’t do labels, sorry XD) We would joke around, play around, and he’s just a great fella all around! It’s just sometimes people might make fun of him and he’d get insecure sometimes, which makes me sad and yeah! Favorite memories with him would always be in Ext. Math. We’ve landed in the same class (coz we switch around every year) like twice and everytime it’d be the same! And well every time in Math I would ‘show off’ my amazing math skills and he’d try to compete with me. It was fun every time. *dreamy sigh*

I miss the competitions really. We’d compete to see who would finish first, who would do what part, and when either of us are confused we would annoy the other to get the answer XD I miss him :’)

Then we get... JILL! :D

Jill was another friend I met in my first year at the school. At first, she used to hang out with this other friend because they were stuck to each other since like primary, but slowly they drifted (which in my opinion might be for the best 😬)

She’s an otaku. A pure bred otaku. I had to deal with her anime fanatic years for like... 3 years and counting now. Why. But she’s wonderful and drawing and would always have this bad habit of drawing on anything and literally whatever surface she finds. The desk, her notebooks, her test papers, her *SKIN*, *MY* skin, her WATER BOTTLE (like what THE HECK- JILL?!) but like, it’s endearing XD

She’s great at complaining and hates hugs. She also hates mangoes- (If you remember what my catchphrase was? Yeah the, “GUESS WHAT? JILL HATES MANGOES” yeah it’s this Jill XD) I’m not joking. She’s great at complaining XD

Funny story is that once we had to do this video project thing and we just had Jill complain about the amount of homework we had to like compare stuff and what not, and she did it. IN ONE BREATH. NO HESITATIONS. NO SCRIPT. ONE TAKE. WE were all DYING after that XDDD Coz she’s literally known as a complainer and she has great logic skills. She also really LOVES money... so... i mean... yeah. She’s really like... conservative with her money but isn’t afraid to use it to spoil others, but not herself XD

Finally but not the last (I got more friends, but I don’t really... connect with them enough?) is BEEP! (no this is not her actual name, I just don’t really call her by her real name much)

The OG friend from first day of school! Nico? YEah Step ASIDE BRO! XDD This gal is my go-to cuddle buddy. LIterally. Our moms are kinda like... besties? (*shrugs* it’s complicated) so we kinda do a lot of things together XD We go to gym together, go to places together, road trip together. She’s a joy to be around. She is like the cuddliest and well usually she does get teased about for being fluffy but like that’s the best part about her 🥺. Her mom is also really picky about her appearance which as her friends, we were pretty annoyed by it, but I love her the way she is :)

First day of school and she walked by and asked to sit next to me. I said yes, without looking at her, coz I was *shy* (shush). Then we had an ice-breaker thing and LMAO guess what we bonded on-

FRICKING HARRY STYLES AND WATTPAD- (look, if you’ve been on wattpad, you’d know that Harry Styles stories on there is never really... safe. in a sense.) SO, we’d immediately bonded over that and literally the rest of the day was history. We’d go through class everyday together and it would be a blast, OF COURSE she had other friends and I had mine, we weren’t really in the same ‘stereotypical’ group (like she has the more... *mean girls* kinda group [I’M NOT SAYING SHE’S MEAN! But, I’m saying that they have the popular group- yeah there that XD])

I had my own group but we hang anyways because it’s fun. She has the most beautiful laugh, like... literally the loudest and beautiful-est laugh ever XD We have so many inside jokes. She’d hold on to them and start laughing randomly XD She cries a lot when she laughs so that always spurs us to continue laughing, gosh damn it, I miss her. I’m smiling so hard writing this.

XDD

Aight! That’s from my IRL friends!

Next we have my online friends! :DDD

First up, we have YAWN! :D

Yawn is quite frankly, the first person I ever actually connected to on Tumblr here XD

I’ve been through tens and hundreds of discord servers, jumped in tumblr group chats, and no where have I ever met anyone as wonderful as Yawn. Literally.

I would say we pretty much clicked and when *she* (look I asked okay. they said yes to all pronouns so- >:3 I’m going to have fun with it XD) expressed xeir love for PUNS of all things, literally, I was shooketh. SO I LITERALLY SPAMMED HIM WITH ALL THE PUNS I COULD THINK OF- ANd then HE LITErally PropOSEd- XDDD I don’t know man. It’s amazing :’) I don’t know how I got this lucky.

Yawn is like that refreshing giddiness you have as a child when you see a new toy or something. Yeah that’s Yawn. Literally every time we text it’s just so damn wholesome and so fun and it’s great! We’d talk about the most random things ever and it’d be amazing :))

Hhhhhhhhhhh, I’m just so damn proud of zem. LIke. Literally. Xir has come so far, and like... we haven’t really met for long yet but I just care about xir sooooooooooooooo much. It has always been there for me and I’m just so appreciative of it. We have so many- *WHEEZE* inside jokes- XDDD

One I can think of is literally “I run you, Shakespeare” and it’s HILARIou- XDDDDDDDDDDDD

I can’t- It’s beautiful XD

I just can’t believe that our friendship literally started with me just sucking up my anxiety and just texting people stuff and I honestly don’t know how it continued from there- XD

They are the most accepting person I know. Genuinely. I don’t know where I’d be without them :’)

Next we have... VOMMY! :DDD Or C-Gal... We gotta bring that nickname back XD

First of all, we met in a Fander Pride Meet Up server. VOmmy CAN SPEAK DUTCH and is SOO CREATIve and SO FRIckING Hard WOrking and such an inspiration. Always greets us and is always down for hugs and cuddles XD

Such a great tea friend, and has like the best aesthetic ever- literally. So old and vintage like a vintage mom and always down to talk about stuff! Ze is soooooo smart as well! And would infodump sometimes when ze’s not busy about stuff that I absolutely adore and love to hear about! Honestly the best vommy ever and ze has PLANTS like- *Woooooooooo!*

We met vommy and literally we can always geek out with zem. Sometimes life gets hard and we need to scream it out every now and then, and vommy would be there :)))

I am so proud of zem and just so damn happy to call zem my friend uwu

ALSO HAVE I MENTIONED THAT ZE CAN SING AND PLAY THE UKE AND WRITE SONGS LIKE WHAT THE HECK THAT’S EPIC AH

Then we haveeeeee... STARBURST! OR BOB THE BUILDER!

ANOTHER friendo we met in the Fander Pride Meet Up Server (seriously a lot of cool friendos there). One of the best advice givers and the most caring older sibling ever. Literally. Like I can’t stress this enough. He’s such a great cousin duck and just a great listener friendo ever.

Such a fricking talented writer and MUSICIAN AND FRICKING ARTIST LITERALLY THE WHOLE SHEBANG IT’s RIDICulOUS

I’m literally so proud of him. It’s crazy. He’s always been there for us, all of us. And is there to provide hugs and arms to cry on. ALSO HAVE I EVER MENTIONED HOW BEAUTIFUL HE IS??! LIKE WHAT THE HECK- AHhhhhHHHHHH

SO BEAUTIFUl- and PRETTY and GORGEOUS

Next we haveeeeeee- POPPY the POPTART! :D

First time we met in the Fander Pride Meetup, I may of may not have offended them. 0-0

woops.

I still feel really bad about that honestly. Uhhh, anyways, I won’t go too in depth on that. BUT ANYWAYS-

THEy Have been such a WONDERFUL presence in my life. LIterally. LIke They have such an cheerful vibe ever and would never fail to make me laugh or like coo or like anything coz they are soooo ADORABLE! They are also like really great cuddler and hugger and sooooo sooooo sooooo handsome :DD

Sure there are rough patches in their lives, but I adore them and am sooo sooo soo proud of them for being able to go through it and still come out with their heads high and just so damn happy that they will not give up that easily. I really admire their strength, and we are always there to support if they need help :)

Also, go check out @/poptartsaysurloved pinned post. See if anyone is willing or can help! :)

Next we have... ATLAS! Or LAssie as I like to call him XD

He’s one of the screaming cereal that I most definitely did not meet in the Fander Pride Meet Up and instead in another server and I’m glad to have met him XD

I don’t know the *exact* thing I texted him, but I definitely remember asking him about something in his status and I most definitely was satisfied with my answer and we just started talking in DMs for a bit, before I invited him in to the screaming cereal bowl server! :D

IT IS A BLAST

LITERALLY

ARSon kid can’t go a day without wanting to blow something up and frankly I’m concerned but such a great friendo

Provider of memes, jokes, laughs, hugs, cuddles, and fun time XD

I can’t even, it’s crack head moments every time with that lassie XD

AHHHHHHHHHHHH FINALLY but obviously not the LAST W E HAVE HEDGIE the ShellY HOGGLES

HONESTLY I LOVE THIS GURLY SOHECKING MUCH

She deals with my bull crap every day kind of and deals with a bunch of my mushy feelingsy moments! I can’t stress enough. Literally Shelly McScotty over here is like the most relatable person ever. Mood all the way and we have like SOO MANY SIMILAR INTERESTS

IT’s CRAZY! When I first found out that she watches like Unus Annus, Winx Club (SHOOSH IT’S A GOOD SHOW SHUSH) Literally, I’m like this is the best person ever. She’s also knowledgeable in a lot of stuff and is literally like the best person to go to when you need to get like informational stuff

Literally. I would info dump on her and she’d be such a great listener. Fricking Disney and Potterhead GEEK of the decade. HOly heck this lady is the literal embodiment of a disney princess. FIRST OF ALL, PERSONALITY IS THERE. SECOND OF ALL, HER LOOKS! HAVE YOU SEEN? LITERALLY SO DROP DEAD GORGEOUS ON FLEEK MAKEUP! AHHHHHh

I can’t get enough of this dude. Gives great advice and insight on soooo many things and I’m just so glad to have met this gurl. I don’t know how exactly we met, but I’m glad we did.

MIND YOU most of my friends are either from Tumblr or Discord so XD

AHHHHHHHHh

Welp! This was a fun! I definitely spent wayyyyyyyyy too long on this thing, but it’s worth it! XD

Hope you have fun learning about my friends from like a freaking geeking out stand point Canon! :D

I have a feeling you wouldn’t read through this entire thing, so well... AH! Hope you have a nice day and don’t sleep too late! Tell me about your friends as well! :))

#caps tw #caps #tw caps #anon stuff #anon #c-anon #canon #friends stuff #long post #I definitely did tag them in my Recs and Friends. And you'll see the occasional reblog or ask #answered stuff

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thinkyoureholy · 5 years

Text

Sweet Lies [1]

A/N : I'm back fellas to ruin your life and play with your feelings; also Baekhyun won't make an appearance until the end of chapter two please bare with me I have to set everything up first😅

Pairing : Byun Baekhyun / [Fem] Reader [first two chapters pairing will be Kim Jongin / Reader ]

Genre : Angst, Violence, Some Fluff, Future Smut, Mafia! AU

Words : 2.1k

Pt 1. Pt 2. Pt 3. Pt 4. Pt 5. Pt 6. Pt 7. Pt 8. Pt 9.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

-Y/N’s P.O.V-

I frowned, rubbing my stomach as it growled for the umpteenth time. I scoffed, looking up to the sky as I felt the first raindrop of many hit my head. Great, just what I needed, I thought with distaste. I tsked, kicking at a small rock on the ground. Stuffing both hands into my pockets I picked up the pace, keeping my head down as I made my way towards the nearest convenience store. The rain had picked up, the sound of the heavy raindrops hitting the ground was the only thing I could hear clearly; every other sound was hazy behind the sound of the heavy rain. I looked up to see an alleyway a few steps away. I jogged over to the alley hoping to find some shelter until the rain let up some, but what I stumbled upon was something I never thought I’d ever witness.

Four men were fighting, the rain washing away the blood that had accumulated on the ground. I watched with wide eyes, not making a sound in fear that they’d turn their attention to me. I began to back up slowly, my heart racing in my chest. I didn’t manage to get very far, hearing the sound of tires screeching behind me. I, stupidly, turned towards the sound, a gasp leaving my mouth at seeing a man leaning through the window with a gun in his hand. Within the next second he let out what sounded like five or six bullets from his gun. I felt a prickling sensation in my abdomen but I was too stunned to move, watching two men run to the car before getting in and driving off. I felt myself begin to grow weaker and weaker, confusion setting into my brain until I finally decided to look down at my abdomen. The first thing I was was red, red everywhere. Blood was mixing with the water as it seeped out of my body. I raised a trembling hand to my stomach, gingerly touching the place the blood was coming out of, wincing at the pain. I looked down at my blood covered fingertips in shock, my vision beginning to blur. Seconds later my legs gave out from underneath me and before I could even hit the floor I was out like a light.

“Damn...she looks young too.”

“What the hell was she doing here?”

“The idiot should’ve run when she had the chance.”

“What do we do?”

There was a pause among them, the one that had spoken first crouched down next to you. He gingerly moved your hair out of your face, his frown deepening. Without a word he placed his index and middle finger on the side of your neck, feeling for a pulse. It took a few seconds but he was able to feel one. He let out a soft sigh, rising to his feet, signalling the other men around him to take a step closer.

“Sehun and Chanyeol grab her. We’re taking her back with us so Junmyeon can fix her up.”

“But-”

“Just do as you’re told. I don’t want to hear anything you have to say about this. My decision is final.”

-Y/N’s P.O.V-

I gasped for air, my chest felt like something weighing more than a ton was placed over it. My eyes flew open at not being able to breath as I sat up quickly. I hung my head forward, my hand clutching my chest as it heaved up and down. It took a few seconds for my heart rate to regulate but when it did I was finally able to feel the pain in my abdomen. I groaned lowly, wincing as the pain only intensified.

“If I knew you were going to do that I would’ve had Junmyeon strap you down. Now look what you’ve done, you’ve gone and opened your wound.”

I whipped my head up in search of the unfamiliar voice, my eyes landing on a man that leaned against the wall a few feet from where I was. I furrowed my brows, not recognizing his face. He must’ve found my confusion amusing seeing as how a small smirk made its way onto his face. You see at a time like this I would be scared out of my mind at being in a room I didn’t recognize with a stranger, a very handsome stranger at that, but for some reason fear was the last thing on my mind.

“Who are you?”

“Hmm, you’re surprisingly calm for someone that was on the brink of dying.” He said, the smirk on his face turning into a soft smile.

I frowned at his words, the pain in my stomach making its presence known once more. I let out a whimper, tears coming to my eyes as I fell back onto the bed, writhing around in pain. I felt tears come to my eyes at the unbearable pain, seeing the man stand up straight in alarm.

“Junmyeon! Junmyeon hurry the fuck up and get your ass in here!”

[5 Months Later]

“Why the hell are we doing this?” I asked out of breath, leaning forward and resting my hands on my knees.

He chuckled softly, “I've told you why.”

I scoffed, raising my head to look at him and give him a glare, “Yes but you haven't told me enough.”

He sighed, crossing his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall behind him. He gave me a look one I ignored as I straightened out to look him in the eye properly instead of having to look up at him.

“You've told me why I was here, with you, and you're lucky I didn't snap on you too bad about digging into my life. But why have me train and stay here for so long? Why would you take me in, a complete stranger?” I said, ignoring the way the smile fell from his face slowly, muttering under my breath, “I should be asking myself why I've trusted a stranger this long…”

There was a pause, silence enveloping the two of us. After a few seconds Jongin finally spoke up, “I want you to become stronger. I want you to be able to defend yourself and get yourself out of a situation like the one that put you here. Believe it or not I was a lot like you until I got tired of it all. I want you to become a better version of yourself.”

“So you want to start a gang like you then?” I asked teasingly.

He scoffed, “Out of all the things I said that's what stuck? Why do I even bother?”

I grinned and got back into position, “Well come on then. I don't have all day and I know I've got a long way to go. Don't tell me my teacher is getting lazy now?”

[3 months later]

I was staring out into space when I felt someone kick my foot lightly. I looked up to see that it was only Sehun, giving him a small smile as a greeting.

“What's got you looking so down?” He asked, taking a seat next to me.

I said nothing for a few second, continuing to stare at the wall before speaking, “I'm thinking…”

“That's new.”

I rolled my eyes before rolling my head on my shoulders to look over at him. I gave him a look, well more like a glare but said nothing. My lips were sealed shut as my mind wandered back to what had me so spaced out in the first place. I thought about my life, or lack thereof to be more accurate. Before Jongin and the others my life was as uneventful as if could be. I had no friends, no family, hell I don’t even know what being loved by anyone feels like. But the longer I thought about it the more I came to realize that I never really hated my life, sure I was bitter about how my life was but I still had dreams, aspirations. I wanted to do what I want, not what others want from me. I know Jongin has plans for me and though I am grateful that he took me in I can’t deny the fact that he’s still a killer and a leader of one of the most notorious gangs in Seoul. SKY was a gang I had only heard about on the news, not once did I think that the people involved with SKY were actually decent. But simply because they were decent men didn’t mean that their sins would be automatically erased.

“What’s bothering you so much?” Sehun asked in a soft voice, drawing me out of my thoughts.

I sighed heavily, looking down at my hands that lay on lap, “Everything.”

There was silence, Sehun waiting patiently for me to elaborate. I just continued to stare down at my hands, trying to get my thoughts in order and say what was on my mind, “I-I want out.”

Again another pause, “I want to go to university, get a job, live a normal life. I want to go back to my old life.”

“So you want to go back to being miserable?”

Sehun and I turned around quickly at the sound of his voice, startled by it. The look in his eyes was one I couldn’t read causing me to worry. I’ve spent eight months in his presence and since the very beginning he was always easy for me to read, his eyes showing exactly what he was feeling but now… he was unreadable. Jongin’s gaze was holding mine hostage, not even sparing Sehun a glance as he stared deep into my eyes.

“I was happy-”

He scoffed at that, finally pulling his gaze from mine but only to roll his eyes, “If you tell yourself that long enough you’re bound to believe it one day when in reality you never really were happy.”

At those words I felt the anger within me start to bubble over, my hands balling into fists, “And what the hell do you know about me? You don’t know jackshit about my life.”

He smirked at this, taking a step forward, “I know everything about you and I can tell you-”

“No. You may know the details of what I’ve lived through but you have no idea what I’ve felt going through it. How the hell do you know what I felt at losing my parents before I could even walk? How the hell do you know how I felt growing up with nobody by my side? Huh?” I spoke through gritted teeth, rising to my feet and staring him in the eye defiantly, “You know nothing about me and I’m tired of you pretending you care. I’m nothing but a girl you felt sorry for, nothing more nothing less. Stop acting like you know a damn thing about me and let me leave so I can live my life the way I please.”

I saw the way his set his jaw, watching his own hands at his side clenching into fists before he relaxed, “You want out? Fine but there’s a price.”

“Name it.”

He gave me a smirk, a small one but a smirk nonetheless, “I want you to take a life.”

I felt my heart sink to the pit of my stomach, stumbling back at his words, “W-What?”

“You heard me. If you want me to let you get back to your life I’m going to need one in return.”

I ground my teeth at the smug look on his face, clenching my hands so hard my fingernails were digging into my palms. The son of a bitch knew I could never take a life, even if it cost me my own. I could see it in his eyes. The asshole was smiling at me, his eyes saying he won and that I wasn’t going anywhere. That look made my blood boil and so I spoke without thinking.

“Fine. A life for a life, right? I’ll do anything to get out of here and away from you.” I said, saying that last part out of spite and to hit him where it hurt.

I could see both hurt and anger flash in his eyes at my words, a scoff falling from his lips but he said no more. I knew there was no way I’d be able to do what he asked of me but I’d say and do anything to get out of here and back to my life and make something out of myself.

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gattius-starfrost · 5 years

Text

The Walk-In

The clinic was as busy as it usually was; not terribly. But as Gattius still hadn’t found any help to hire, doing even this regular workload of both administration tasks and administering the actual medical help was overwhelming, to say the least. He could feel himself growing more irritated, going from patient to patient, between exam rooms and the front desk, all without a break to even take a breath!

Anger turned to worry, when quiet moments allowed it; had he bitten off more than he could chew? Without help, would the clinic ultimately fail? Should he cut back on the days they opened, or was that a death knell for his small, independent infirmary? The first step to the inevitable closing of this unfulfilled chapter in his life…?

Today, the dread and anxiety hang over him more than usual. So much so, he had already left his next patient waiting fifteen extra minutes as he tried to gather his composure and desire both before stepping into the examination room. If he could just get through today…

'Light give me strength…'

His faux smile found his face, finally, as he exhaled a quiet sigh, and opened the door.

"Afternoon, sorry to keep you waiting." Gattius bowed his head apologetically as he entered, eyes still scanning over the chart in his hands. "You mentioned you had some 'skin and eye discolorat--eeough for fuck's sake!"

Snapping quickly, Gattius tossed the chart as he looked up, and slammed the door behind him in a hurry! Before him, atop the exam table, sat a ren'dorei. Not just any ren'dorei, either…

"Alt, what the fuck are you doing here?!"

“Oi, voice down, lad!” Alteris loudly whispered. “Dunnae wanna give me away, do yeh? Not after I worked so hard sneakin’ in ‘ere!”

Alteris grinned his usual smug grin - half proud he’d slipped past all of Eversong’s defenses, half reveling in Gattius’ reaction. As much as he loved coming to see his dearest companion, he took pleasure in making his life a bit more ‘interesting’ all the moreso. He hopped down off the exam table, and approached the blood elf.

“Wanted t’ apologize properly fer missin’ our last rendezvous.” he explained, bringing his arms around Gattius’ waist. “Think I owe yeh somethin’ fer that, aye?”

“--No! This is hardly making up for it!” Gattius scowled in response, pushing the void elf back from him. “I’m way too busy for this. Not to mention this is way too dangerous! If someone sees us here… I could lose everything!”

'Not that I probably won’t anyway...’ he thought to himself, the concern resurfacing in the moment - only fueling his agitation. This was the last thing he needed today… another stressor. Another source of worry. Another problem to solve. With an irritated huff, he grabbed Alteris’ wrist and led him to the door. Slowly, he opened it and peeked out. The hallway was clear.

“This way! Hurry!”

Without delay, he dragged Alteris from the examination room and down the hall - crouched down, stepping lightly, as if he were infiltrating an Alliance camp! Alteris did nothing to help keep a low profile, however. His steps were naturally light, of course, but he didn’t seem nearly as concerned at being sneaky as Gattius towed him around the Clinic. Almost like he wanted to be found! He didn’t, of course, but it irritated Gattius more this way.

“--Oi, ease up!” he feigned a whine, smirk still plastered to his face. “If’n ye wanted t’ rough-handle me, better done back there on th’ exam table, aye?”

“--Shut up!” Gattius hissed in reply.

He shoved Alteris into a room at the end of the corridor, and closed the door most of the way. The Blood Elf glanced over his shoulder once more, cautiously, before sighing. He looked to Alteris.

“Alright… this is my office. There’s a door that leads out behind my desk, there.” he explained in hushed tone. “Follow it into the Manor, and wait for me there. Don’t touch anything!”

Alteris glanced around the room a bit, before smirking at Gattius.

“No time fer’ a quickie, then?”

The door shut quickly in his smug face.

The ren’dorei sighed, smirk fading fast. That… wasn’t as fun as he’d hoped. Agitating Gattius was always interesting, but this time it wasn’t nearly as satisfying. He grumbled to himself, as he turned from the door. Gattius had changed, he’d noticed. Back in the day, he wouldn’t pass up a chance to shirk duties and have a quick ‘spar’ atop his desk, or back in the examination room. Now, it seemed he was all business. He didn’t like it.

He looked around the office, finding further confirmation of how Gattius had changed. It was so… orderly. More so than was normal, as Alteris recalled. Gattius was a neat individual, keeping things in relative, passable order. But this office was pristine. Alteris felt like he’d stumbled into some kind of museum. A monument to the most droll elf to waddle across this mortal plane. Hanging nearly and squarely on the walls were numerous certificates and degrees, documentation of Gattius’ medical proficiency. The Thalassian script was so excessively curvy and elegant, it looked like a child got hold of a quill and discovered how to draw circles.

The bookshelves were almost artificial in appearance, each book flush against its neighbors in height and protrusion. He wouldn’t have been surprised if half of them were empty, simply aesthetically-pleasing filler to-- no, apparently not. He pulled a random book from the shelf and flipped through it. The script was so small, each page packed with medical jargon and biological babblings. The ren’dorei sighed once more, as he slipped the book back in place, leaving the spine sticking out just a bit in mild defiance.

The desk was, comparatively, the most cluttered aspect of the room. But even then, it was still rather well kept. Quills and inkwells were arranged neatly on the right side, with files and documents all sorted in upright organizers on the left. A few stray parchments sat in the middle of the desk, clearly needing to be worked and filed away later. Alteris tugged at a drawer - locked. How boring and unlike Gattius! He almost wanted to break into the drawers to see what was hidden within… but if his office was this boring, he couldn’t imagine anything of interest was tucked away in the desk. Likely more files, if he were to wager a guess.

Then he noticed the picture frame.

His pale hands clenched as he glowered at the picture. A heartwarming portrait of a familiar face holding a small infant. Syrielle and their son, Tannis. Alteris scoffed, as he lifted the frame from the desk. It wasn’t that unusual, having a picture of family on one’s desk. The implication, however, was what irked Alteris so. He could just imagine the Blood Elf leaning back in his chair after a busy day… and smiling at this inanimate painting of his family. Gleaning a spark of joy from looking at his loving wife’s bespectacled face, and finding the strength to carry him through the remainder of his mundane medical practitioning…

It felt like a gut punch. One last nail hammered into the disturbing realization. Gattius wasn’t at all who he once was. So organized, so driven, so family-oriented. Alteris clenched the picture harder, feeling the wooden frame begin to crackle from the straining. How he wanted to smash it! This was her fault after all! He’d watched it all from within Gattius’ mind. His descent from the exciting, fun-loving elf he once was into this… this domesticated buzzkill! It wasn’t hard to see who was responsible for his transformation, either. She’d tamed him… ruined a perfectly appealing elf. An elf he loved deeply. And it made his blood boil.

He set the picture down - face down, in another act of defiance - before heading for the side door Gattius mentioned. This office only depressed him. He hoped the manor would be more exciting for him.

The corridor was narrow; hardly a grand hallway. But it served its function in connecting home and office. Alteris padded down until he came to the opening. The manor was silent… but breathtaking. He’d been here before, of course - snuck in once or twice, and even beheld it through Gattius’ eyes. But seeing it for himself, without any fear or need to slink about silently… he could appreciate it fully. Specifically… the bar. His eyes were drawn to it immediately. Bottles upon bottles, lined from floor to ceiling on glass shelves. He grinned widely, rubbing his hands together as he examined each label.

His feet carried him behind the bar without a second thought or hesitation, as he picked one out - an exceptionally appealing whiskey in a rather cubic-cut glass bottle. Dwarven-distilled… definitely in his tastes! He popped the stopper, and began to pour himself a glass-- when something shook the room. The glass bottles clanked lightly together as heavy steps trudged into the room. Alteris quickly ducked down behind the bar, holding as still as possible to not give away his position. What was it - a construct? An Arcane Golem? He knew Gattius had upped his security as of late, but this seemed… excessive! Slowly, he peered around the side of the bar… and saw a kodo?

He blinked. Then blinked again. He couldn’t have been seeing things… he hadn’t even had his drink yet! Sure enough, there was a kodo in the house! He stood slowly, eyeing the beast carefully. What was it doing here? Did Gattius know it was here? Was this some kind of pet? The kodo glanced to Alteris, and lowed in a friendly manner. Alteris smirked - he was… kinda cute, actually! He came out from around the bar, and reached out a hand to pet the beast. The kodo trudged over to meet him, merrily nuzzling his horn against Alteris’ outstretched hand.

“Oi, friendly fella, aren’t yeh?” Alteris smirked. “Wot’s yer name?”

“His name is Kronk.”

Alteris turned quickly towards the grizzled voice that suddenly came from behind him - an ambush? A trap! He reached for his blade-- but was suddenly caught. A meaty hand clenched about his neck, and lifted him up off the floor. He gasped and wheezed, legs flailing as he clawed at the hand which gripped him. His eyes blurred, but he could make out the face of his abettor. An Orc, and an ugly one at that! He resisted as much as he could, before the Orc reeled back his free hand… and drove his fist into Alteris’ face. He blacked out instantly, going limp.

The Orc scoffed, grip loosening slightly. He thought to squeeze tighter and be done with it, but… he presumed the Lord and Lady of the house would have questions.

“Come, Kronk.” he grunted. “Let’s find Lady Starfrost.”

~*~

(( @syrielle for mention / Desk Art Link ))

#Character Story #Gattius Starfrost #Alteris Sunwhisper #Syrielle Starfrost #Tannis Starfrost #... and Kronk!#warcraft #blood elf #void elf

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daoimean · 5 years

Text

Pink in the Night IV | Winter Solstice: Part III

Chapter III | Ao3 Link

Summary:

Fellas, is it gay to be madly in love with your gal pal? As war rages and internal demons fester, Glimmer struggles to come to terms with her feelings.

Pairings: Glimmadora (Glimmer/Adora)

Warnings: Panic attacks, discussions of grief

Word Count: 4,941

Well, that's enough for tonight.

Glimmer's only vaguely aware of herself as she half-stumbles, bewilderedly, back into the crowd. She takes the arm of the nearest sober person she recognises— Perfuma, she thinks— and stammers out some lame excuse, about being tired or not feeling well or something, teleporting away before the other has a chance to say anything.

Her room is far enough from the ballroom that the noise of the party has faded down to a distant background buzz. She can hear, think, breathe again, like a drowning girl finally coming up for air. But her thoughts are caught in a whirlwind, billowed in a flurry like the blizzard she can see picking up outside her window.

Adora just kissed her— she just kissed Adora.

There's no way she can go back to that party now. That much she's certain of.

She's either shivering or shaking as her unsteady hands fumble to remove her headpiece and garments (which are only slightly easier to take off by herself than they were to put on), letting them drop unceremoniously to the floor. She messes up the buttons of her pyjama shirt once, twice, three times, cursing herself under her breath with mounting frustration. All she wants is to go to bed. Maybe after a good night's sleep it'll be like this never happened, things can go back to how they were.

(She knows, all too well, that isn't how it works— that things haven't been how they were, how she likes them, in a long time.)

Frantic eyes flit around the room, trying to find something to focus on, ground herself. Glimmer didn't used to be prone to panic attacks; she's sure she's had more in the past two months than her entire life before then. She tries to remember how her mom had successfully talked her down the one time she started unraveling in front of her. Breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale…

She catches sight of Kowl on the window seat, the stuffed koala-owl toy she's had since she was a baby. One of the few remnants of her childhood she could never bring herself to get rid of, not even when she reached her teenage years and all she wanted was to grow up. She doesn’t know why that’s what brings the tears to her eyes.

Inhale, exhale…

She's okay. She's okay.

No, she's not okay.

But she will be, she might be, if she can just—

Her hand comes up to wipe her eye, but her fingers hover briefly over her lips, where phantom traces of Adora's kiss still linger.

She knows, or at least she's been told countless times by countless people, that time is supposed to heal. One day (though no one dares use wording this crass), she'll get over her mom. One day, she'll get over Adora. One day, she'll grow up.

Her eyes fall on Kowl again. Then she picks it up and throws it across the room, as hard as she can manage. It doesn't go very far, and she doesn't feel any better. She watches, chest heaving, as it misses the wall, landing on the floor a few metres before it— and she stares and stares at that wall until her vision blurs, her legs give way under her, and she clamps her shaking hand over her mouth as calculated breaths roll out as choked, pathetic whimpers.

Inhale, inhale, inhale—

A knock.

The sound pulls her back to the surface, but the voice that follows wrenches a gasp that tears out what little air she could draw into her lungs.

"Glimmer? Are you okay?"

...Yeah, no, she needs more air.

She teleports without much regard for where she's going, emerging from the light midair and landing on her butt on the snow-covered concrete of some unmanned parapet.

It's cold . That’s the first thing she realises when she comes to her senses. The fresh layer of snow beneath her numbs her bare hands, her cosy pyjamas not nearly cosy enough to withstand the icy wind that howls in her ears, tousles her hair. She didn't even have the sense to put shoes or slippers on over her socks. Smart thinking, Glimmer. Truly the pragmatic mind of a Queen-to-be.

Yet, it's only up here that she manages to steady her breathing. She grasps the wall, dragging herself to her feet. She's shivering, but she's okay. She thinks.

When the urge to cry rises, she doesn't try to stop it this time, the turmoil she releases with every sob carried away with the blustering wind. She doesn't even know what she's crying about anymore. She's crying about nothing, she's crying about everything, she's numb and she's hurting and she's alone and she's cold , so very very cold. She's lost track of time altogether by the time the snow crunches behind her.

Adrenaline surging through her frozen limbs, she pulls her head from her arms, snapping round to be greeted with a looming figure, a mass of billowing golden hair.

Adora.

(Well, kind of.)

"Did you really transform into She-Ra just to get up here faster?" Glimmer asks her, having to raise her voice as the storm flares up around them like a freezing inferno. Her teeth are chattering. She can barely move. As the adrenaline leaves her, she's left too cold to think. She can barely even see.

"I wasn't sufficiently dressed," Adora bellows back, unaffected as a huge gust lifts her cape and hair, the assault of snow melting on her upon contact, "and neither are you , Glimmer! Come here, you must be freezing ."

All other thoughts are subdued by just how much she needs to be warm right now. She summons whatever strength she has left to stumble into Adora's extended arms, enveloped in her warmth. She-Ra's warmth.

(She prefers Adora.)

Once she's able to, she teleports them both back inside. Adora, releasing her She-Ra form and closing the window she must have climbed out of, leads Glimmer to sit down on the cushioned window seat, finding a blanket and pulling it around her shoulders. Glimmer's already sufficiently warmed up, but she snuggles up anyway, watching Adora with a newfound calm that warms her insides too.

"You seem pretty lucid," Adora says, pressing two fingers to Glimmer's wrist to check her pulse,"and your pulse rate is normal. You probably weren't out there long enough for hypothermia to set in, thankfully. Seriously, Glimmer, what were you thinking , going out in that in your pyjamas? If you needed space you could have just told me to go away."

Glimmer finds herself smiling, in spite of herself. She knows Adora's nagging comes from a place of caring; she almost wants to tell her she sounds like her mom. "I don't think I was thinking."

" Clearly ." Adora rolls her eyes, lightly papping her cheek; her mouth is twitching up, like she's trying not to smile herself. "If I go and get you a hot drink, can you promise me you're not gonna go take a swim in the lake or something while I'm gone?"

Glimmer playfully rolls her eyes. "I'll try my best." Adora glowers at her, and she bites back a laugh and relents. "Fine, I promise! I'll be right here, okay?"

As Adora slips out, Glimmer notices the plate of party food on the side table, a whole a whole assortment of her favourites. The gift hidden in her desk drawer suddenly feels even lamer in comparison, and something she thinks might be guilt curls in her belly. She really hopes Adora comes back soon.

And she does, cradling a cup of chamomile tea. Glimmer accepts it gratefully, motioning over her now half-empty plate as Adora hovers awkwardly before her. "Do you wanna share?" It's a coded invitation to stay, hopefully not laced with the desperation she feels.

"I don't think I could eat another bite," says Adora, shrugging off her scabbard and setting the sword aside (that Glimmer cannot believe she brought to a party, but then it's Adora so she guesses she can) before sitting down next to her, though her posture remains stiff, like she's still preparing to leave, like she doesn't know if she should be here at all, "and Bow mentioned you hadn't had dinner after Perfuma told us you said you weren't feeling well, so I thought I'd…" She looks at her hands. "Sorry, I know you um, probably wanted space, I was just going to give it to you and leave, if you wanted me to, but then you were gone and—"

"It's lucky you knew where I went," Glimmer interjects. She reaches out, hesitates, then settles her hand on Adora's shoulder. "Look, it's okay , Adora. I probably would have froze otherwise."

"I'm still sorry."

"Don't be."

She has a feeling it's not just that she's apologising for.

A silence falls over them. Glimmer retracts her hand as Adora shifts around, settling properly across from her.

As someone who's had trouble making friends until recently, it's only with Adora that Glimmer came to accept and even enjoy amicable silences. Silences that don’t make her anxious, that she doesn't feel the need to fill for fear of being awkward or boring, where two people can just bask quietly in the pleasure of each other’s company.

This isn't one of those silences, though. It's heavy, almost crushing, weighed down with things left unsaid; the elephant in the room may as well be sitting on her chest.

"It never snowed in the Fright Zone," Adora says after a while. "The smog always got worse during the winter, though. Sometimes you can’t even go out for more than a few seconds without a vog mask."

"That...wow." It's far from the worst thing Glimmer's heard about the Fright Zone, but it's still kind of unfathomable. Having grown up in a queendom proudly devoid of pollution, she can't imagine not even being able to safely breathe the air around her. She’s glad Adora got out of there. "It snows every year here. Always around the same time, which is why we centre the Solstice season around it. It's...honestly kind of annoying."

"I think it's beautiful."

As Adora says this, Glimmer follows her gaze to the blizzard outside, which is ebbing down to a more steady snowfall. She watches the flakes dance in the wind like stardust, settling over the landscape in layer upon fluffy layer of pure white that almost seems to glitter in the moonlight. It's the exact same thing she's seen countless times, but it's like her perspective has shifted through the mesmerised earnesty of Adora's words. Like she's seeing it through her eyes.

Then, she looks at Adora, at her profile betraying an almost childlike fascination, the silvery lunar glow softening and highlighting her features in all the best ways.

She can still faintly hear the party they're both supposed to be attending, but the more she watches Adora and the snow the less anything else seems to matter. No past, no future, just her, Adora, and a sleeping world enshrouded in white.

"Yeah," she murmurs, "I guess it is."

Soon enough, the world will reawaken. The snow will freeze over and melt, where it's not already been cleared from roads and walkways or trampled by the shoes of leaving partygoers. It'll dissipate to grey-brown mush then, soon enough, nothing at all.

She it’s necessary, that the world has to keep on turning no matter what it tarnishes, but to Glimmer's selfish side, it all seems so unfair. Why does everything have to be so fleeting?

"You know," she adds, "I bet Frosta wouldn't mind us crashing at hers, if you really like the snow— like, obviously once all of the, um, Horde stuff has blown over. We could go skiing."

"Yeah." Adora smiles a little, and it occurs to Glimmer she probably doesn't actually know what skiing is. "That would be nice."

She wants to show Adora all her favourite places, showcase the best of Etheria to the girl who’s thrown herself into saving a world she barely knows outside of the dismal corner of it she was raised in, and she wants to experience them all over again with her by her side. Skiing in the Kingdom of Snows; swimming by the Crystal Falls; a picnic in Serenia; tea at that cute cafe in Glenmar, run by a rumoured ex-Hordesman who's managed to embrace a peaceful family life. The fantasies flicker through her mind like a flip book, all vague and innocent and kind of dumb, in a future too optimistically idyllic to even bear thinking about.

(It ends with a flashback to her conversation with Casta. How she and the girl she loved were going to go to Silaneas. Who was she? Does Casta even remember her name?)

"I hate this uncertainty," Adora says, so quietly it's hard to tell if she's talking to Glimmer or just thinking out loud, "not knowing what's going to happen."

"Mmm." Glimmer hums. "I really wish we had something to go on. I don't think even Shadow Weaver knows what's going on unless she's giving us the runaround."

Adora sighs. "Yeah, no, she doesn't have a reason to lie, she wants to bring down the Horde as much as we do. She's not as hard to read as everyone thinks, Glimmer.” She turns to her with a little smirk, trying to bring a little light back into the conversation. “You just have to weigh out how much the situation benefits her ."

"Yeah, it’s...weird, she's actually been... really helpful? I know more about my magic than ever thanks to her." She grimaces, almost physically pained by having to talk positively about Shadow Weaver. "It kind of sucks, actually, I have been itching for round two." She straightens herself, palming her fist (a precarious thing to do while she's still holding her tea), and feels her heart do the happiest of little flips as Adora unexpectedly snorts with laughter. She'd missed Adora's laugh. She'd missed being the one to make her laugh. "What? I could take her!"

"I've know you can take her, dumbface. I still wish I'd been conscious to witness it." Glimmer can see her eyeing the party snacks and pushes the plate over. Adora picks up a mooncake and takes a huge bite, continuing to talk through the mouthful. They're presumably not taught about that kind of etiquette in the Horde, but Glimmer's honestly the last person to care. It's just another one of Adora's weirdly cute little quirks that might only be cute because it's Adora. "Sorry, it was calling to me, I couldn't resist— oh, these are so good. "

"My face isn't as dumb as her sweater," Glimmer grumbles. It's really hard to keep playing grumpy while she watches Adora's typically theatrical reaction to good food. Even after months of living here, Adora's still so enthralled by some of the little things, and even after months of witnessing these reactions, even when she herself takes most of these things for granted, the joy always seem to rub off on Glimmer.

(She could never take Adora for granted.)

"Oh, that reminds me—" As Adora reaches into the inner pocket of her suit jacket (Glimmer is definitely not going to take the sight of Adora in a suit for granted), Glimmer can only wonder what could possibly be in there that reminisces with Shadow Weaver's stupid sweater.

What she produces, finally, is a little box.

A very familiar little box, right down to the now slightly smooshed... bow on top.

Hmmm .

"Adora." Glimmer quirks an eyebrow in feigned ignorance. "That's gotta be a really small sweater."

"Yeah, no, you sharing your food, then the talk of ugly festive sweaters, just got me thinking about festivities in general, goodwill and all of that— and that made me remember... this, um—" She holds out the box, looking away bashfully. "Weird train of thought, you know? Sorry, I, uh, haven't really— done this before…"

Usually, people don’t exchange gifts until morning, but there's no use pointing that out. "Uh, hang on, we should probably do this at the same time," says Glimmer. She sets the tea she's been steadily sipping safely aside as she gets up, leaving her blanket discarded on the seat while she retrieves Adora's gift from her desk drawer; realisation crosses Adora's features as soon as she sees the box, fashioned with an identical bow.

"Did..."

"Yup," Glimmer confirms, "he insisted on it. Right down to the wrapping."

They exchange gifts, along with playful eye rolls directed towards Bow and his meddling, and their own inabilities to settle on gifts for each other without it. Glimmer can only watch from the corner of her eye while Adora opens her, feeling a familiar heat rising up her cheeks. She doesn't know why this is making her so nervous— Adora already pretty much knows what it is.

It's a bracelet. A simple gold chain, fashioned with a ruby charm Bow showed her how to painstakingly whittle down into a faceted star.

("Why a star?" he'd asked her, and she'd made some dumb (and in hindsight maybe kind of insensitive) 'out of this world' joke because she was too embarrassed to explain the actual reason.)

"Oh, Glimmer." She holds it up to the light, watching how it reflects off the deep red of the jewel. "It's so pretty."

Adora's gift to Glimmer is, as she suspected, almost identical. Silver chain, and the charm is a moonstone whittled into a crescent moon, which she supposes makes more immediate sense. On one hand, she's grateful, to both Bow and Adora, she'll treasure this, she already knows that for certain, but on the other—

Did Bow really have them make each other friendship bracelets? Adora obviously has the same thought, Glimmer sees it when she accidentally meets her eye as she opens her mouth to thank her— and they both fall into a fit of giggles.

It's not that funny, it might not even be funny at all, but there are tears of laughter in the corners of Glimmer's eyes by the time she looks up again. Her cheeks already hurt from smiling more than she has in a long time.

She’s a little surprised Adora seems to know what a friendship bracelet is. Maybe it's one of those things that's universal with kids everywhere, like playing tag or drawing that weird S thing all over their school books. There's one likely person Adora would have exchanged them with, though, and...no, she's not entertaining that thought.

(Bow was actually the one to introduce the concept of friendship bracelets to her, back when they were two dumb kids with stars in their eyes and Glimmer's mom was still there to handle all the important stuff, the high stakes stuff. They wove each other's bracelets from string, and wore them until they began to fray and unravel and they both came to the unspoken agreement to give them up. She supposes when it comes to these bracelets made of silver and gold, the chains or the clasps might just snap eventually. She supposes it kind of does reflect how friendships work, or at least how they end.)

"Can you help me put this on?" Adora asks, fumbling with the clasp. "It's really— oh, thank you."

Adora helps her fasten hers too, and they both hold their wrists up to each other's for comparison. Glimmer starts giggling again, until she realises Adora isn't.

"Hey." Glimmer reaches over to poke her nose, which seems to rouse her attention. "What's up?"

Adora pokes hers back, and grins far too wearily to be reassuring as Glimmer does the inevitable nose crinkle. "Sorry, I'm just…happy."

"Happy?" She's something , but Glimmer isn't sure if happy is the word. Nostalgic, maybe. For the nights in Glimmer's room where the world was still and the moons were their company, where they could talk about anything and everything without the tension, without the damn elephant.

(Fearful, terrified, that the comforting familiarity they've found in each other is crumbling, giving way to an uncertain future.)

"Festive spirit." Adora shrugs, and they're both momentarily distracted as, as if on cue, a distant cheer can be faintly heard erupting from the ballroom, the music rising in volume to the point that Glimmer can tell what song it is. It must be time for the dance.

"You can go back if you want." Don't go. Not now. Not yet. Not like this. "I'm okay now. I'll be okay."

"I'd rather be here. If you want me to." Adora's hand finds Glimmer's, hesitating over it, her smile wavering; Glimmer can see right through the cracks forming across her composure, and it pulls at what she keeps trying to bury with a panic that tightens her throat. Not now, not yet. "I've...really missed you, Glimmer."

"I've missed you too." Glimmer's fingers slide through Adora's, like the resurgence of an old instinct. Her gaze drifts to the window. The snowfall has slowed, enough that she can follow an individual snowflake until flutters out of view. "I'm...sorry I've been so absent lately, I've just been really...in my own head, I guess. It's...hard to explain."

"It's fine." Adora sighs. "I can't really blame you after...everything."

Glimmer's eyes widen. Her heart sinks. "Adora..."

“Sorry, sorry, I—” Adora lets out something that sounds like a laugh, but it's bitter, completely humourless, muffled into the hand she brings over her mouth. It sounds more like she's about to cry. "I always have to go and ruin it, don't I?"

"Hey, no—" But Adora's already pulled her hand away, closing in on herself. "Come here." Glimmer's slow in her movements, allowing Adora the chance to reject the comfort at any point, first gently taking Adora's wrists, trailing her hands to her shoulders, then, finally sliding her arms around her, pulling her in like a lifeline. Adora makes no move until she returns the embrace, hiding her head in Glimmer's shoulder as she clings to her with a desperation that harrowingly reminds Glimmer of herself on that first night, her breathing shallow and rushed as much as it sounds like she's trying to steady it.

"I'm sorry." Adora whispers, the quivering distress in her words wrenching the tightness in Glimmer's throat. "For everything. I'm so sorry."

"You need to stop apologising," Glimmer says, and it might come out more harshly than she means it too. She runs her hand up and down Adora's back, trying to communicate through her touch that she didn't mean it that way. "It's not your fault, none of this is your fault."

In the whole two months, they've only kind of managed to talk about what happened. Adora knows that it isn't her fault, that Glimmer's mom made her own decision to sacrifice herself in place of Adora. But knowledge isn't acceptance. The guilt will chip away at her, sullying her every interaction with Glimmer, pulling her away in the currents of time, in the waves of grief, until, unless—

Unless Glimmer can hold on.

And she can hold on, she will hold on.

She can't let this end.

Not now, not ever.

"I love you," she says. It slips out among the typical affirmations, the it's okay 's and I'm here 's, before she's aware of the words taking shape in her mind. "I love you," she repeats, "I love you."

Soon enough, Adora's breathing steadies out, but her pulse doesn't slow, its rhythm reverberating even through the layers of clothes between them. Her arms are around Glimmer as she draws herself back, leaning her forehead against hers. Glimmer, suddenly, is aware of her own pulse, picking up in turn. It's the good kind of heart racing, she thinks, she hopes. She wonders if their hearts are in sync. She wonders how long it's been since she last thought about that.

She’s about to ask, stupidly, if Adora’s okay, until Adora’s words knock her right off course.

"I've never kissed anyone before tonight," she confesses quietly, her lips twitching in a stifled laugh. "I don't know what I was thinking. I’m—" She bites back the apology. “I probably...shouldn’t have done that.”

Glimmer's always tentative about touching Adora's face. She knows she doesn't like it, and she's pretty sure she knows why. But as Glimmer lingers her hand over her cheek, silently requesting permission, Adora actually leans into the touch, closing her eyes briefly with a releasing sigh. "I kissed you too," she points out softly, "it takes two to tap dance, or whatever that dumb phrase is."

A light dusting of pink rises up Adora's cheeks. She places her hand over Glimmer's, holding it where it is, her fingers calloused yet her touch feather-light where she runs her thumb across the smoother skin of a hand that's never wielded a sword. "I'm so embarrassed," she almost whispers, "Everyone was staring, I don't know, I just— did I even do it right?"

"Shh." Glimmer soothes, bringing her other hand up to Adora's other cheek. "I wouldn't know." She pauses. Her heart is pounding, her skin is tingling, the butterflies finding their home in her stomach — the good kind, definitely the good kind. "I mean," she adds quietly, so quietly even the omnipresent reach of the moons can't eavesdrop, the moment theirs and theirs alone, "we could always try again."

When their lips meet, the white and red sparks dancing between them mingle and merge into one unified light that glows and grows, so warm she momentarily forgets what it is to be cold, so vitalising she momentarily forgets what it is to be afraid. It's hard to define a moment. It could have been a second, it could have been an eternity. And when she opens her eyes, Adora is still there in front of her, eyes sparkling and a soft, bashful smile gracing her features that Glimmer swears, then and there, is the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

Silence falls over them again after that. The best kind of silence, filled with warmth and butterflies. They find a settled position neither of them are going to move from anytime soon, Adora resting against the cushions behind her, Glimmer resting across her with her head on her chest. She could stay here forever.

“Glimmer?” Adora chimes softly.

“Hm?”

"I love you too. Did I mention that already? I’m not sure I did."

Glimmer lets out an amused huff, shifting ever so slightly to drape her arm across Adora's waist. "It’s okay. I kind of gathered."

"I wish I'd told you before.” Adora sighs. “Even before...any of this, I was just…"

"Scared?" Glimmer's eyes flicker up to meet Adora's.

"Scared. Confused. Not sure whether you... I actually confided in Bow before the party and he gave me this big pep talk that got me all psyched up. It...probably wasn't the best time to confess anyway, in hindsight, and I didn't account for that whole mistletoe thing—"

Well, that explains the way Bow was looking at them when Adora took her aside.

"That's…" Glimmer lets out another amused huff. "Very Bow. I got my pep talk from Mermista ." She groans to herself. "You know it's bad when Mermista gets involved."

“Oh, wow .” Adora groans as well, comedically dramatic. "Why are we like this, Glimmer?"

"We're dumbfaces. Both of us. The dumbest faces in Etheria." She pokes Adora's nose again. "And...you know, there's...actual reasons, that are still there.” Ah, there you are, reality. “I don't know if we can, like, feasibly...be...a thing."

"Do you want to?"

"What?"

"Be a thing?"

"I mean…" Glimmer feels a familiar leap of trepidation in her chest, but it's dwarfed by the conviction of the real answer. "Yeah. I do. I really do."

"Then we'll make this work."

"How?"

"We improvise." Glimmer snorts , pulling herself up slightly to lightly shove Adora's shoulder, and Adora’s jaw drops as she pretends to be offended. “What? It’s how we do everything else!”

“You’re such a dumbass,” says Glimmer, and it’s true, but she makes a compelling point — and Glimmer, is, well, also a dumbass. They’re perfect for each other.

"Can I be your dumbass?" Adora does an excruciatingly cute kissy face and Glimmer rolls her eyes, trying to hide the giant smile tugging her lips.

“I guess .” She’s smiling, contrary to the poorly feigned reluctance of her words. She can’t stop smiling.

They solidify the decision with another kiss, and it's familiar now, so familiar Glimmer wonders why she was ever scared in the first place. The world is theirs, and it's boundless. They can take it all on in their stride; soar over the moons and dance in the stars.

Obviously, there's plenty of reasons to be scared. Her and Adora have far more to work through than can be dealt with in one night, both together and as individuals. The future remains uncertain, and Glimmer still bears the burden of Bright Moon and the Rebellion and her own persisting grief on her weary shoulders, and Adora may have multiple worlds on hers.

But tonight, once they can bring themselves to detangle to take care of their bedtime routines, Glimmer and Adora will fall asleep together and safe in the warmth of each other's arms. The snow is falling, the moons are bright, and Adora's eyes are gateways to the stars beyond the foreboding void of Etheria's night sky. Tonight, Glimmer will look into those galaxies and come home on those lips as they meet her own, again and again and again.

#glimmer #adora #glimmadora #she ra #spop #shera fanfic #my writing

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dreamangel-ren · 5 years

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FFXIV April Fools Joke Expanded

I shall call it FFXIV AU: Eorzea Academy

So, after seeing the April Fool’s Day joke about our beloved FFXIV characters attending to high school, I got heavily inspired and add a bit of my magic to this wonderful idea. NOTE: This is all pure headcanon so that means it is NOT to be taken literally! If you don’t like this kind of stuff, then stop reading now!

Still here? Okay here we go:

-Of course, my Warrior of Light is the star of the show! - Ren Kurosaki attends to the school as a new student. The school’s first impression of her is that she’s wild and mysterious. On her first day, she stopped bullies from picking on a fellow student. Many are trying to figure out if she’s even eligible to attend to Eorzea Academy since her documents contained vague information. -Ren lives by herself; she goes from being a bard to going on extravagant quests to maintain financial security. At times, she receives aid from fellow neighbors when times get too hectic. - Appearance: Long wavy brown hair with hair clips on the side of her bangs. She always has her sleeves rolled up to her elbows; she gets lectured by the teachers to have her sleeves worn properly. She wears a bracelet on her left wrist. Her choice for socks is the mid-thigh high ones. -She excels in archery, white and black magic (RDM), and dancing; she wishes to get better with ninjutsu, weaving, and cooking. She’s terrible with tanking and she gets nervous when practicing healing.

- Some teachers don’t approve with Ren’s behavior because she ends up breaking the school’s rules, but for a good cause: to help make Eorzea Academy a more comfortable and fun environment for the students. Some consider her the Warrior of Light because of her good deeds while some consider her the Warrior of Darkness because she only makes things worse. With Eorzea Academy being a very prestigious school, students go there mostly tensed because they don’t want to disappoint their superiors. -Ren does have a harem, but there can only be one! (Yup, it’s a shoujo kind of story fellas). The Remaining Cast: Yotsuyu: The president of the student council and the Queen Bee of Eorzea Academy; many students would do anything for her because of her undeniable beauty. She uses her power to pretty much manipulate the entire school for her amusement and a few students hate her for this reason. With Ren in the picture, Yotsuyu is worried that she will lose her position to the new student so, she’s bound and determined to wreck Ren’s reputation. Aymeric: The vice president of the student council, head of the Heavensward Elite, and one of the wealthiest students of the school. He is also known as the lady’s man because most girls want to date him (he even has his own fanclub). However, some believe that him and Yotsuyu are dating because they are the most attractive duo. Yotsuyu loves Aymeric and already confirms to everyone that they are in a relationship, but the young lord on the other hand doesn’t feel the same way; he doesn’t like how Yotsuyu treats the other students. When Ren arrives to the scene, he takes interest because he admires her free spirit and her endless service to the school. Estinien: Aymeric’s best friend and part of the Heavensward Elite (along with Aymeric, Haurchefant, and Ysayle). The typical strong silent type of the bunch, Estinien always look out for his best friend because he knows that there are sharks out to get Aymeric because of his reputation and some would try to take advantage of his kindness. He has secret feelings for Ysayle. As for Ren, he doesn’t quite get her, but he comes around to help her when he feels like it.

Haurchefant: Another member of the Heavesnward Elite and everyone’s best friend; this boy is very popular among the students because of his big heart. Furthermore, he holds high status since his family, The Fortemps, are one of the founders of the school. He would help any student in need even if they didn’t ask for his help. He meets Ren and instantly develops a huge crush on her which later turns to love. Every chance he gets, he tries let Ren know his feelings; however, she’s oblivious to them. Despite this, he protects her from Yotsuyu’s evil schemes and supports her to the ends of the Earth.

Ysayle: The only female of the Heavensward Elite and highly respected to all students due to her passion in the school and students. She kinda bumps heads with Ren because Ysayle usually goes by the book and disapproves Ren’s rebellious nature. Many strongly believe that Ysayle should’ve taken the role of president of the student council. While her reasons for not accepting the position are unknown, they come to her for guidance. Yotsuyu can’t stand her because the students adore her; so, she started a rumor about Ysayle tempering other students to follow her which folks gave her the nickname Shiva, the Ice Queen. Zenos: A transfer student who attends to Eorzea Academy and students are afraid of him. With him being a crown prince from a different country, students believe that he would put Yotsuyu to shame, but they don’t want him to take control because he would make everyone’s life a living hell. Noticing the student’s fear towards him, Yotsuyu wants Zenos to join forces with her to bring Ren down. At first, Zenos didn’t agree to the plan because he didn’t care; however, after a few encounters with the student, he slowly changes his mind and he grows an obsession with Ren. Asahi: Zeno’s bodyguard who also attends to the school. He has strong admiration for the crown prince of Garlemald and anyone who challenges his master must deal with him. Upon learning that his step sister, Yotsuyu is the student body president, he’s determined to bring her down so he can give the title to Zenos. However, completing that mission will be difficult after he learns that his master has interest in Ren; the Doman boy refuses to let the new student take his beloved master away from him.

Alphinaud: The boy whom Ren rescues on the first day of school from bullying which later they become close friends (Ren sees him as a little brother that must ALWAYS be protected). He’s one of Eorzea High’s best students (alongside his sister, Alisaie). Although he’s an excellent student, Alphy at times have issues with his self-esteem because he gets bullied for being soft. Estinien becomes his senpai as he teaches him to man up. Alisaie: Alphinaud’s twin sister and one of Eorzea High’s best students (alongside her brother, Alphinaud). She constantly teases her brother about mostly everything; however deep within, she envies Alphy because he has done so much that impacted the school while she is left in the background. She looks up to Ren and wishes someday to be just as strong as her so she can protect her dear brother.

Thancred: Ren’s ex-boyfriend. When Ren made her arrival to Eorzea, she didn’t know her way around until she met him; he helped her get settled into the realm and began her small career as a bard. They were together for awhile until Ren dumped him after discovering that he still had feelings for one of his previous lovers.

Hien: Another transfer student, but from the Far East who happens to be the prince of Doma. Hien gathers a lot of attention from many students due to his charismatic personality. After hearing about Hien’s skillful swordsmanship as a samurai, Ren challenged Hien to a match. Both sides made a bet if one loses, they must tell their darkest secret. Although, the match ended in a draw, they praised each other’s skills and became friends. Lyse: Although she doesn’t have special talents like the many students, her family name is what got her into the prestigious school. When she first attended Eorzea High, people teased her for trying to be like her late sister Yda; eventually Lyse grew tired of it and started training to become one of the best monks in the school. Understanding her struggle to finding her identity, Ren gladly accepted Lyse as a friend. Y’shtola: Friends with Lyse, Y’shtola is the smartest girl in the school. She is super popular among the boys because of her sassy attitude; however, she doesn’t take interest in dating. She has all knowledge about the school and students which Yotsuyu has a hard time dealing with her because Y’shtola is quick to catch on her schemes. Whenever Ren and Lyse get into trouble, she gets them out then scolds them later. She is the big sister of the group.

Yup, that’s all I thought about from the joke; I do plan to draw pictures based from my headcanon sometime soon hopefully.

#ffxiv #APRIL FOOLS!#alternate universe #high school #I had fun doing this #possible illustrations in the near future

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duelingnebulas · 6 years

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Look At the Stars (See How They Shine For You)

AKA Steve’s 100th Birthday Ficlet!

Since he could remember, Bucky loved Steve. He thought the whole world felt the same because on Steve’s birthday - and only Steve’s - the sky lit up with colorful fire. It was the only time Bucky had ever seen anything out in the world match the iridescent inferno that was Steven Grant Rogers.

When he learned that it was Independence Day, the fact seemed irrelevant to him. What did it matter that other people celebrated some crusty old paperwork when he had Steve to celebrate? When he had one more year of Steve beating his winter illnesses, one more year of pulling him out of scraps, one more year of seeing those blue eyes blaze with mischief?

Every year Bucky struggled with getting Steve a present worthy of his magnificence. While he would very much like to buy Steve a mansion with servants to cater to his every need, he was told by the man who ran the comic shop that his collection would only buy a handful of candy or a couple of bottles of Coke. That wasn’t nearly good enough.

He needed something that would make Steve smile and that he could actually get his hands on. (The mansion and servants could wait until later, he supposed.)

At age ten, watching Steve chew on a nub of a pencil as he drew weird little comics in the corner of his notebook at school, Bucky Barnes was struck with inspiration.

In September, Deanna Dougall dropped two of her brand new, pristine Dixon Ticonderoga pencils underneath her desk. She only saw one, only picked up one. Bucky watched the other roll under the adjacent desk, and waited until the coast was clear to swipe it and stash it in his pocket.

In November, the clerk at the corner drugstore turned her back to help Bucky’s dad, leaving a navy blue pencil vulnerable on her ledger. It was halfway used up, but wrote with a beautifully deep tone, and Bucky felt very sure the clerk wasn’t properly appreciating it.

When Bucky’s Ma dragged him to the post office to get stamps in December, someone had knocked a hard-leaded pencil off the counter. It didn’t write deep and its lines were thin, but it was unique and Bucky thought that it deserved a home anyway.

In late March, on the first warm day of the year, Bucky was on his way to see how Steve was recovering from his chest cold. He walked past someone sketching on the bench in the park. Never one to shy away from striking up conversation, Bucky detoured and asked him what pencils he used. Fancy ones for drawing, as it turned out. And Bucky, ever the charmer, was gifted one of his very own to add to his growing stockpile.

In May, he passed one of the nicer hotels in Brooklyn when a fella got out of a cab. The man pulled his pocketbook out and dropped a pencil, and Bucky’s immediate reaction was to quickly pocket it and keep going. Later and upon closer inspection, he discovered that it was in fact one of those fancy Biro ballpoint pens- the ultimate achievement, the crown jewel of his collection.

---

In July, when Bucky handed Steve the handkerchief that held the pilfered hoard, he was giddy with anticipation. Steve opened it and gasped, inspecting each and every one, eyes sparkling and mouth falling open when he saw the Biro. As it happened, Steve’s Ma had given him a pocket sketchbook as a present, so Steve declared it the Best Birthday Ever.

As the sun set and darkness shrouded the city, Steve and Bucky made their way out onto the fire escape to watch the fireworks. Bucky always felt a profound sense of anticipation, because as soon as the explosions started, he could feel the pops and rumbles in his chest, and he felt things so big he thought he might explode right along with them.

“It’s all for you, Stevie, you know that, right?”

Steve just chuckled and shook his head. “S’just for the holiday, Buck.”

“Nah.”

Steve laughed. “Nobody gets fireworks for their birthday, that’s just silly. The world don’t work like that.”

“Sure it does,” said Bucky, completely serious. “It does for you. For today, at least. Everything in the world is all for you today. All those stars up there? They all shine for you. All those fireworks are explodin’ and saying ‘Happy Birthday, Steve Rogers!’”

Steve snorted and said, “Pretty sure they’re saying ‘Happy Birthday, America.’”

“Nah,” Bucky said again.

Steve just looked at him, and the fireworks started. His eyes reflected the reds and golds, sparkling and shimmering with the same fire that fueled his heart... the same fire that fueled Bucky’s love for him.

Steve just grinned and set his head on Bucky’s shoulder to watch the show, lazily kicking his dangling feet. Bucky laid his head against Steve’s and felt Steve sigh with contentment.

---

Ninety years later, Bucky presented Steve with a handkerchief of pencils swiped from various locations - they were mostly mechanical and mostly from Tony and Bruce’s lab. Pencils were rare these days, but somehow he had managed, along with a couple of really nice pens.

Steve both laughed and cried and Bucky held him close.

That night, when they stepped onto their balcony to watch the fireworks, Bucky reminded Steve that they were for him. Instead of arguing, Steve looked at him, eyes reflecting the reds and golds. No matter what changes he or his body had undergone, Steve still had the same eyes, the same blazing passion and mischief. Steve looked up at him with those eyes glowing dangerously, and Bucky was drawn like a moth to a flame.

He kissed Steve and Steve kissed him back. So had they done many times, so they would many more, but this one was just a little sweeter. Steve pulled back and set his head on Bucky’s shoulder like that same night ninety years ago. This time, he gently laced his fingers with Bucky’s. Bucky laid his own head against Steve’s, and stifled a laugh as the fireworks display exploded into a giant, sparkling representation of Steve’s shield.

“See? They’re for you, like I always said.”

Steve groaned against him.

But Bucky took secret pleasure in knowing the difference. Those fireworks celebrated Captain America, but the rest?

Just like the sun and the stars and Bucky himself…

The rest burned for Steve Rogers.

#ficlet #goldbloodedfic #goldbloodedwrites #steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky

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askmyboys · 4 years

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Asmodeus and Jimmy

First n foremost, I nEED to update this blog more often than I do ugh- but here’s two babs I made based off of sims and there is a trigger warning down there somewhere highlighted in HUGE bold text before it goes any further so please keep it in mind

| Names: Asmodeus Kosmos and Jimmy Vulcan

| Nicknames: Asmo/Kos and Jim/Vul (sometimes Jimmy likes to mess with Asmodeus and calls him momo)

| Genders: Trans FTM

| Sexualities: Asmo is gay while Jimmy is Pan

| Ages: Unknown

| Heights: Asmodeus is 7'5" while Jimmy is 5'3"

| Species/Race: Asmodeus is a demon and Jimmy is a human

| Skin Colors/Body Types: Asmodeus's skin is red and he's pretty muscular and Jimmy is fairly pale and much more chubby

| Eye Colors/Hair Colors: Asmodeus's eyes are pitch black and his hair is also black (hairstyle is: Greaser Style) and Jimmy’s eyes are a Baby Blue color (his hairstyle is really just a Manbun)

| Appearances: Asmodeus wears a Red and Black flannel with a simple black t-shirt underneath, he also wears black ripped jeans and some black multi buckle punk boots, he also has a black collar with some spikes on it he wears as well, and finally he wears some gauges. He has large pointy ears, razor sharp bear trap teeth, and a few scars here and there but nothing too severe it seems, he also has large black claws and some large black devil-esque horns and a black devil style tail (he doesn’t bother disguising himself bc he literally just does not care in the slightest, if he didn’t like the looks of his punk esque clothing he’d even keep his hooves n fur to look even more inhuman)

Jimmy wears a black and white striped suit (the white stripes are v e r y thin) with matching pants as well and some black business shoes, he also has glasses as well not for the look just bc he literally needs them to properly see anything, his outfit isn’t too spectacular or out of the ordinary but he does have a few strange scars on himself and his wrist (before conclusions are jumped too, no, it was not an intended self harm scar, he did do it for an ENTIRELY different reason and you’ll see why soon) (oh and I almost forgot like a dumbass, Asmo is Trans thanks to his demon magic- he gave himself the body he wanted and Jimmy of course being a human, this was before he even got to meet Asmo anyways got the surgeries/took the T and all he needed and wanted ya know?)

Oh yeah and btw they both have short boxed beards.

| Personalities: Asmodeus isn’t the most… friendly neither to demons nor humans, in fact, he’s actually a cannibal- he’ll eat his own kind but he’ll also eat humans as well, he’s VERY mischievous and loves to cause trouble and pull pranks and terrify people, he’s always hated his own kind and humans both however… There IS one human he actually likes to be around and stick with, which of course at first it wasn’t that way but I’ll explain that in a bit, he’s pretty cold n cruel towards others, he’s often hungry so he feeds himself quite a lot much to a certain human’s dismay bc he’d really rather things lay low n such but lmao that’s not gonna happen fuck that, Asmo does p much what he wants WHEN he wants to and there ain’t a damn thing anybody can do about it- he truly is p much a rebel.

Onto Jimmy… Jimmy is much more kindhearted and sweeter, he’s not exactly the best with people due to a lot of anxiety and social anxiety so usually he doesn’t hang out in large gatherings and such as that, he usually spends a lot of time in his own room playing some games in his free time but usually he’s writing and working on multiple stories, now if it wasn’t obvious enough as it was, Jimmy is the human I was referring to earlier, him and Asmo live together and I’ll explain why in the side facts but for now, Jimmy’s goal is to one day became a famous author even tho he knows dealing with people and crowds will be tricky, he knows it’d be worth it in the end for sure… Absolutely LOVES animals of any kind, dogs, cats, rats, hamsters, etc you name an animal and he loves them so much he’s too scared however of Asmo eating said animals to bring one into the house unfortunately.

Jimmy loves reading as well, he’s an absolute bookworm and I’m not saying this bc he’s a writer or reads or shit like that but he genuinely is a geek, he’s a complete dork but we love him anyway I’m sure after all… Havin’ a problem with Jimmy is a death sentence with Asmodeus around.

(tl;dr: Asmo is cruel, cold, evil essentially and also a cannibal he’ll eat his own demon kind and he’ll even eat human kind, he’s VERY gluttonous so it’s hard to fill him up most of the time he can just never be satisfied, he does care about one and ONLY one human and that of course is Jimmy obviously, nobody touches or bothers Jimmy with Asmo around, he hates other humans and demons alike however, loves causing mischief and mayhem, pulling pranks, and scaring the hell out of people, always hated his own kind

Jimmy however is much more friendlier, kinder and a sweetheart, however his anxieties both social and regular anxiety gets in his way a lot so he can’t handle people and a LOT of situations tbh, he LOVES writing and hopes to one day become a famous author even if he has to deal with people he knows its worth it, loves to read as well, he’s a geek/dork and lovable as ever, 100% LOVE. FOR. ANIMALS. You let this man see a fucking puppy or hell even a baby rat and he will break down in tears bc its so damn cute, he’ll cry even worse if you let him hold a puppy or somethin like that)

| Side Facts: This is gon be a long one now… so woo boy… Jimmy despite sounding like an average normal human being p much, he’s had a very dark secret… Jimmy was actually supposed to be a cult leader at some point, however for reasons unknown that little thing didn’t work out which he is actually relatively relieved of bc truth be told he wanted no part of a cult in the slightest, that didn’t stop him from being curious about demons and such as that however… There was one demon in particular he had heard them mention quite often and it’s yep, you guessed it! Asmodeus Kosmos… His curiosity had admittedly gotten the better of him so he did some research and…

(Trigger Warning!!! For blood, ritual esque themes, demon summoning of course annnnd p much him cutting his wrist for said ritual so if that bothers you please don’t read any further into it)

Jimmy grabbed the supplies he needed, it was pretty basic stuff such as candles, drawing an upside down pentagram, etc- he then grabbed his knife and slit his wrist, letting his blood flow out into a chalice p much and at first he thought this was the worst decision he ever made and besides nothing even happened so now he’s going to have a scar on his wrist and have to deal with lots of blood but before he could even move to go grab a towel, lo and behold… There was a bright red light and then out popped Asmodeus from the pentagram who immediately grabbed the chalice and rather greedily began slurping up the blood inside, after finishing his little… drink… He looked over at Jimmy who was honestly very mortified right about now and p much grinned at him like “Yooo! What did a lil fella like yourself summon a demon like ME for?” Asmo was definitely… shocked like… really? THIS is what summons him? Jimmy looked like any ol regular human! Nothin special! Just another snack!

And that was when Jimmy realized… He didn’t actually know why he summoned this demon, he had no reason other than curiosity and then an even worse realization of this demon is going to be absolutely. Fucking. P i s s e d. He was lowkey freaking out, before he could even think of the proper response, he just blurted out “Uhh… C-Curiosity…?” which made Asmo’s expression drop a lil, it was more so one of confusion than anger “...Ya know, normal demons woulda been pissed but lemme tell ya somethin’ I ain’t no normal demon and I gotta admit… Outta all the human blood I’ve had, yours by far has been the fuckin’ b e s t tastin’ blood e v e r! Dunno what’cha did bud but ya definitely did somethin’ right! Well, for me at least, for you uh well not so much” Asmo definitely made ill intentions clear to Jimmy by flashing some sharp teeth (this is turning into an actual story now shit uh just roll with it and for fucks sake why can I write better when im not even trying to do an actual story?!)

Asmo of course barely gave him any time before walking over and casually grabbing his wrist, he licked the wound clean much to Jimmy’s dismay… Could demon saliva cause an infection? He didn’t exactly want to find out but it was too late now, Asmo didn’t notice the terror humans usually had for him so maybe this guy didn’t read the fine print or somethin’... “Uhh ya do realize like, I’m gonna eat’cha now right? Did you even, like, r e a d the smaller text in the books? Or did they cut that part out just hopin’ some poor soul would get devoured?” before Asmo could take a chunk out of Jimmy he quickly began to speak “Wait! I’ll… I’ll make a deal with you!” Asmo being the lil trickster that he was couldn’t r e s i s t… “Ooh… What kinda deal we talkin’ ‘ere pipsqueak?” Jimmy didn’t even know what he was saying, he just blurted the next few parts “What if I like… Help you? With, uh, the eating thing?” Asmo of course couldn’t believe his ears, he deadpanned “Ya serious? Ya gonna help me, get other humans who are basically gonna become my meal? JUST to protect yourself?” and there was a pause but before Jimmy could rephrase his question it was too late, Asmodeus grabbed his hand and shook it “You my friend have got yaself a dealio! I’ll spare ya, but uh, I expect a meal v e r y soon~” of course, now Jimmy was completely fucked… Now he had to keep this demon fed because a deal was made and he couldn’t break it or else he’d be the one eaten… And of course not to mention breaking a deal with a literal demon is not the best thing to do in any universe…

Over time of course though… Jimmy had actually begun to bond with Asmodeus, despite all the people he devoured over time… Other than his harsh exterior, rude behavior and pranks n scaring others n stuff… Asmodeus has become much nicer and kinder to him… And even opened up more to him, he knows he can’t change Asmodeus’ ways and get him to stop eating others unfortunately but… After all the time these two have spent together, all the chatting, and even all the flirting (mostly Asmo has done that to Jimmy) they have not only become best friends with each other but in fact, maybe there’s something… More going on there. Aka their dating by now, they actually love one another very much and now? Asmo could never e v e r even dream of eating Jimmy, he’s… actually even scared if he grows too hungry around Jimmy he could accidentally hurt the human… And he’d never want that now, he’d rather himself be locked away and chained up than hurt Jimmy and truth be told… Jimmy is the only being that’s ever been actually nice and kind to Asmo, even after basically threatening him at the start and kinda tormenting him with his pranks, his teasing, and scaring he was still so nice and warm towards him… He was also rather pleased to find out that not only was Jimmy not straight but also ayyy Trans Buddies!!!

#new ocs #my ocs #Asmodeus Kosmos #Jimmy Vulcan #demon oc #human oc #trans ocs #lgbt ocs #trans and gay demon and of course trans and pan human bc fck you i do what i want #these were originally sims #but then I decided I want more babs and so voila here we are #tw: rituals #tw blood #tw cutting mentions #tw cannibalism implications

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