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sunlightmurdock · 7 months

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Like This Forever | 0.1 | J. Seresin

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You’re thinking of the past, right as the future is about to change forever.

Warnings: accidental pregnancy, childhood friends to lovers, country singer!Jake, smut, pining, blissful ignorance, other warnings to follow. wc: 3k (18+ minors do not interact)

A U G U S T 1 9 7 4 / F E B R U A R Y 1 9 9 1

Driftwood — small town southwestern Texas, situated in Lockheart County. Springs, stony hills, and steep canyons. It’s good land, occupying a tiny patch of earth in the middle of the Edwards Plateu. That’s what they all say: good land, good soil. Large acreages of wheat for miles around, grown annually for harvest and winter through spring livestock grazing. The remaining two-thirds of the region is rangeland devoted to cattle ranching. Ranches in this region often seem older than the landscape itself. Lockheart County’s livestock industry is nationally appreciated, it was, even back then. Ranches here are huge, they’ve been there for generations. The town of Driftwood, itself, sits in a valley. It holds on to the people who settle there just like it holds onto the weight of that thick, summer heat all through the day. So hot that even the trees bend and furl like they’re seeking shade too.

Back then, Driftwood was even smaller than it is now. Post Office, Church, two schools, a fleet of locally owned stores on Main Street and a few other buildings for the fathers who weren’t ranchers or ranch hands to work.

On that day in early August, most of Driftwood’s thousand person population were nestled amongst the pews of St. Augustine’s Church, just outside of town. It’s a mile and a half from Main Street, and a mile and a half from the furthest fence on the Seresin Ranch. Their house is a sprawling thing that Bill’s grandfather had built — they haven’t got that kind of money now, and they didn’t on that morning in August. They’ve got three boys, who were squirming around the front pew, melting into the aged wood below them in their smart white button ups. They’ve got another boy too, standing behind Pastor James, holding a processional candle.

Jake’s their youngest. He was nine back then. Small for his age, especially when you stood him next to his brothers and their broad shoulders and long legs. His hair was beyond blond, lightened from the sun. His cheeks dusted with brown freckles and his eyes always narrowed into a type of John Wayne kind of squint. Jake loved John Wayne back then. He loved the cowboys on his bed sheets, and the fact he could see the cattle from his bedroom window. All he wanted back then was a pistol on his hip and a one-way ticket to El Dorado.

Mary-Lynn Seresin grew up in Driftwood, just like her husband had. She had known Bill since she was a little girl, and she had always known that she would marry him one day. Her nails were polished pink that day, sitting pretty atop the procession card as she fans herself with it. Two pews behind, you could still see a droplet of sweat bead from her neat blonde hairline and trail into the collar of her blue polka-dotted Sunday dress.

On that particular Sunday, the fans had packed up and stopped working. So, all six hundred of you who could make it out to St. Augustine’s we’re trapped in there — not just with Pastor James’ storytelling, but with the thick heat pressing down on the entire valley feeling like it had all been shut in this one room with the rest of you.

At the front, Jake Seresin’s cheeks were red, his hair was beading with sweat and his scarecrow, twig-like arms were trembling around the cross. He struggled with its weight and you had watched his green eyes flash out towards the crowd, briefly landing on his mother. Mary-Lynn gave him a proud nod. Bill was staring at the stagnant ceiling fans above their heads. You, were staring right at Jake.

Eight years old yourself, just eight weeks younger than Jake is, you have known that little grass-stain your entire life. In fact, Mary-Lynn and your mother found out that they were expecting just days apart. They had been in the same high school grade as girls, had married men who were good friends, and back then your mother had worked in the town’s hair salon five days a week. They grew very close through their pregnancies. Your mother was the first one to send flowers when Mary-Lynn went into labour a month and a half early.

Jake’s John-Wayne-Squint deepened through the heavy air, watching you like you were both about to draw pistols and settle this like men — right in the middle of Pastor James’ final verse. Your pigtails and your white Sunday dress weren’t fooling him. His robes and the heavy cross in his hand weren’t fooling you. Clearly following his brother’s gaze, Daniel Seresin turns and peers at you over his shoulder. He’s the closest in age to Jake, but he’s still five years older. Thirteen then and too grown up for childish squabbles like those, he just turned back to the front and shook his head.

The first three of the Seresin boys were all born within three consecutive years. Matthew, Noah and Daniel. They’re each tall like their mother, blonde like her too, and have inherited their father’s linebacker shoulders. Noah was fourteen and about to be a freshman in high school. After he fixed the chain on your bike at the beginning of summer, you were full-blown head-over-heels in love with him back then. You thought you were anyway.

Jake, however, had been in your class since Kindergarten and you had been forced to share your toys with him for even longer than that.

His arms trembled before you and your mouth had twitched. Neither one of you was listening to the service. It was almost over. Just a few more minutes until Pastor James wrapped up and the people of Driftwood and poured out of this sauna and out into the dry, morning sun.

Quickly, you shot a look at your mother sitting at your side. She was listening intently, staring right ahead with her neatly steamed clothes and her hair-sprayed hair. You’ll always remember the heavy smell of her rose-scented perfume. Every time you inhale it, you’re sitting at the foot of her bed, watching her fix her face in her vanity. Then, you looked to your father on the other side of you. Exactly the same. Pleased, you turn your attention back to the youngest Seresin boy.

Scrunching your nose, you had sat forwards just slightly and stuck your tongue out at him. Quite the diss back then. Jake’s green eyes had widened, sweat beading down his back under his white shirt and his service robes.

Driftwood is a safe place. It’s a fantastic town to raise children. The schools aren’t overcrowded and cars don’t speed through the centre of town. Country roads are a different story. But no one bats an eyelid, especially not back then, when their children are out of sight.

Mary-Lynn was busily detailing the events of her dinner party that coming Saturday to a group of women that are invited. She’s quite the hostess still. Your mother stood amongst them. Neither one of them were concerned about where their children were in the slightest. Until, that is, the sounds of muffled screaming filled their ears. The mothers of Driftwood rush to the commotion in their kitten heels and pretty dresses. Your mother was the first around the corner. She would recognise the sound of her baby’s screaming anywhere. But you weren’t the one in trouble. As usual, you had been causing it.

Your white dress grass-stained and muddy, dirt under your fingernails and covering your formerly white, frilled socks. You were kneeling. You haven’t yet noticed the crowd of women rushing in your direction. You’ve got Mary-Lynn Seresin’s youngest son pressed into the dirt, kneeling on his back and twisting his arm uncomfortably behind him.

“Say Uncle!” You demanded.

“You’re so dead! Get off!” Jake struggled under you, screaming with all the force that his growing lungs would allow. His voice must have been audible across the entire valley with how he was hollering. Freckled cheek pressed into the dirt, his white shirt was destroyed and he was in the middle of ruining his shoes with how he was scrambling for purchase in the dried dirt.

Quickly, your mother had grabbed you under your arms and hauled you off of the boy, spinning you to face her.

“What do you think you’re doing young lady?”

“He started it! — He said my dress was ugly!”

“It is ugly, you look like a girl!” Jake huffed from behind you as he had stumbled onto his feet and taken a look down at his church clothes. Slowly, he had lifted his gaze to look at his mother. Sullen and worried looking, he began to pout. It wasn’t working. Mary-Lynn had raised three boys by then, she knew when they were trying to play innocent.

The thing about growing up so close together, is that approaching double digits was a confusing time. It was around that age that your mother began to put her foot down when it came to all of those tom-boy activities. Girls might roughhouse and come home with holes in their jeans and mud on their faces, but young ladies didn’t. The dress was her idea.

Jake’s comment had been passing, just a whisper as his family had headed into church ahead of yours, but he was right — you did look like a girl. Back then, that wasn’t a compliment coming from him. So, you had cornered him outside and pummeled him into the dirt. Fair is fair.

“Mary-Lynn, I am so sorry about her — send me the dry-cleaning bill. I’m sorry, we should go.” Your mother had sighed in a hurry, frowning down at your ruined clothes, then looking towards Jake’s. You’ll always remember the smile on Mary-Lynn’s face after. Not pity, because she knew you were in a lot of trouble for this. Just fondness. She had gently patted your mother’s forearm and shaken her head.

“Let’s finish our chat. They’re already filthy. Let them play.”

Looking up at her, you hadn’t understood why she was siding with you back then. You had just almost broken her son’s arm for sport. As you grew, Mary-Lynn Seresin was always on your side. In her kitten heels and dresses, she remembered being a dirt-covered little girl once too. No one was telling her son that it was time yet, to be a man. There’s no harm in letting you be young a little longer.

Your mother had looked uncertain, but people in Driftwood always looked to Mary-Lynn for advice. She had somehow managed to keep four boys in line perfectly, her parenting expertise was studied by those around her. Finally, she had given you a brief nod.

You remember spinning on the delicate almost-heel of your church shoes, rounding on Jake, ready to brawl. You have no clue where the stick came from, but he was armed when you had turned around — but Jake always fought fair. He tossed you a stick of your own and took aim. Green eyes narrowed, he was trying to look down his freckled nose at you, but you were taller then.

“She’s gonna marry that boy someday.” Mary-Lynn Seresin had huffed with a wistful smile, watching the mud-caked children tear off through the field once again. This time, with sticks in hands and violent intent plastered across their dirty faces.

You’re not eight anymore. Jake’s not nine. This time of the year, you both happen to be twenty-six. You aren’t trying to kill him with a stick anymore either. You’re sitting at your favourite bar in Driftwood — there are four now — watching your best friend up on stage. He’s always confident. He has been since he hit that growth spurt when he was twelve. Since then, Jake has been unstoppable. But on stage is when he really shines.

The Dark Star feels like an old bar. It’s packed every Friday night. It smells like malt and smoke and Jake’s been playing here every Saturday since he was seventeen. This is the last time that it will ever be like this, and you don’t even know it yet. Jake’s in the middle of an original. People around here know him, they know his music. They might not get all the words right, but he always gets people singing.

Jake isn’t small for his age now. He grew into his nose, and he inherited those big shoulders, his skin’s tanned from his days out at the ranch. He’s strong and funny and kind. Sometimes it catches you off guard, when you turn your head and find a man in place of the little boy you once knew.

You’re in a booth, talking numbers. It turns out that you had inherited your mother’s knack for business strategy, and Jake’s way with words had rubbed off on you long ago.

You don’t look like the little girl Jake had once known either. If he was concerned about you looking like a girl before, then you can only imagine how dismayed he must be when he looks at you now. Breasts and everything.

“It’s more than potential, Stu — you saw how crazy people were for him when he was opening for The Ashford Band.” You tell him, fingers curled around a brown glass bottle. This is already settled, the deal is already done. You knew from the second that he walked in that you had Stu Adler suckered.

This is a deal that you’ve been mulling over for a couple of months now. Getting Jake on his first headline tour. His debut album came out last week and it’s doing well, but the record label is tiny and the publicity deal is even smaller. Jake’s making pennies compared to other people in his genre, but you’re about to change all of that.

“Six months is a long time on the road. It’s a different lifestyle,” Stu’s dishwater grey eyes flicker briefly up from the plunging neckline of your top to meet your gaze. He’s an older man, with a once successful career in Los Angeles. Now, he spends his time scrounging small towns for talent. He’s just a stepping stone in your plans for Jake. “You’re sure he can handle it?”

Stretching your legs out, you scoff incredulously at the accusation as Jake’s last song dwindles behind you. The beer bottle is cool against your lips. Stu swallows, watching your lips purse around the rim to drink. You know he’d die for the chance to get his wrinkly, old dick in your mouth — it’s why Jake’s about to get the best deal of his life.

“Jake? — Of course.”

“Can you?” Stu asks. The light on you for once makes you cringe. Even so, your poker face doesn’t falter. Calmly staring across the table at him, a small smile on your face. “Y’know, he’s going to need a manager that I can rely on. I.e. — one that he won’t dump, sweetheart.”

This only makes your smile grow. “Jake is like a brother to me. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”

It’s that lie that secures the deal. Six months, a hundred and sixty dates across the US. Mostly small venues, but it’s his first headline tour — and it’s all because of you. Because of that one little white lie. Letting Stu think that he’s got a chance with you. Letting him think that you’ve never fucked Jake.

You have. Twice, already by this point. Once, after senior prom. Your date was an asshole and his was cruel. You’d parked his truck out in the west pasture of the Seresin ranch and got a little too drunk under the stars, and wound up with your legs hiked up over his shoulders. The second time was Thanksgiving two years ago. Your family joined his. All of his brothers have fiancés or wives now. Sharing Jake’s bed in his childhood home that night, neither one of you was drunk. You were just lonely, and maybe bored.

Tonight, there are a couple of different factors at play. Sure, by the time that you and Jake collapse down onto that red, velvet couch in the Dark Star’s ‘dressing room’, you’ve had plenty to drink. You’re not quite as lonely as you were that thanksgiving, though.

You turn your head and he’s grinning at the ceiling, chest heaving from the energetic final song. His arms stretch along the backs of the couch, his eyes closed for a moment. You watch him silently.

“You’re incredible.” Jake’s half-cut on an unhealthy mix of tequila and vodka, but smiling, eyes still shut, chin still pointed towards the sky. He gives his head a small shake. “A hundred and sixty dates.”

A smile plasters itself across your lips. As drunk as you are, it’s nice to be complimented for your hard work. “Yeah, we’ll see if you still think I’m so incredible when you’re living off of burgers and beer and still have eighty shows to go.”

The smell of cigarettes lives within the fibre of this room. Part of the furniture, nestled amongst the cracks in the red painted walls. There’s the couch that you’re sitting on, and an illuminated vanity against the far wall, and then a coat stand. It’s not much of a dressing room, but it’s fine.

You just wish it would stop spinning.

“I mean it.” His fingers rest atop your denim clad thigh, patting platonically. You hear him sigh from beside you. He squeezes at the supple skin under his hand. “Thank you.”

“Jake… since when do you have manners?” You ask him. Both of you are sitting with your eyes shut on this old, probably dirty, velvet couch. It’s five in the morning. The two of you might have gone a little overboard with celebrating. Wayne Mayhew, the owner of the Dark Star might have threatened to kick you both out of his bar if you didn’t finally get off of his damn stage ten minutes ago.

But there’s a high buzzing between the two of you that feels electric. Wordlessly, you know Jake feels it too. That this is the last night. Here, in this shitty hometown bar. Everything is about to change. After this tour, nothing will ever be the same again — for either of you.

Jake’s thumb trails back and forth in just one small pattern, reminding you that it’s there on your thigh.

It’s been on your mind all day, for no reason at all. That Sunday in August in 1974. Your ruined church dress and the fat bruise on Jake’s cheek the next day when you had seen him at the market. The start of it all.

Those late night drives and all the evenings you studied together. Jake’s football games and his band practices — back when he had thought he wanted to be in a band. Him drying your tears and making you laugh. Growing up together, talking for hours and hours about all of the possibilities. This was everything Jake had ever wanted, and he’s thanking you.

Your eyelids weigh double what they normally do — heavy as you blink open your eyes and turn your head. This time, he’s looking across at you. The tips of his fingers brush the inseam of your blue, low-rise jeans. His face is calm, he isn’t saying anything and he’s far from doing anything either.

Scrunching your nose, you poke your tongue out at him. Across the couch, Jake lifts his brows. The corner of his mouth twitches. He’s got stubble now. Stubble, and chest hair and an Adam’s apple. But that look, that glint in his eye that’s just daring you to try him has always been the same.

Jake’s fingers twitch, pressing into the soft flesh of your inner thigh. Dim lighting, fifteen year old red paint on each of the four walls, and that perpetual cigarette smell — it’s hardly a romantic fantasy. And this is far from a good idea.

But it’s Jake. Confident, loud Jake who gets shy when he’s around someone he really likes. Funny, smart-mouthed Jake who under it all is a great listener. Goofy, habitual Jake who has the nighttime routines of a fifty year old housewife.

Strong-willed, handsome, Jake, your best friend — who’s looking at you like you’re his next meal.

…

@fia-thefirst @daggerspare-standingby @dempy @v0id-chaos @moonlight-addisyn @grxcisxhy-wp @shakespeareanwannabe @coconut152 @330bpm-whiplash @takemetooneverlanddd @princess76179 @loveofvernonslife @averyhotchner @trickphotography2 @sushiwriterhere @the-romanian-is-bae @atarmychick007 @talktomegooseman @xoxabs88xox @thedroneranger @roostersforevergirl @buckysdollforlife @abaker74 @blackwidownat2814 @kmc1989 @whatislovevavy @lonelywriter10 @s-u-t @topguncortez @callsign-joyride @rosedurin @86laura11 @theenorthstar @mygyn @growup-thatbeautiful @percysaidnever @katiedid-3 @its-the-pilot

#jake smut #Jake Seresin #Jake Seresin x reader #Jake Seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #Jake Seresin fic #jake seresin #Glen powell #Jake hangman Seresin #top gun: maverick

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angelwithdemonictendencies · 8 months

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i wear my shame like tar in a vacant town square, spitting out feathers like blood; you touch my hand and ask if i'm ready to go home.

cc22 x reader: the two of you never go out of style (ft. best friend ax72).

(warnings: longest story yet (12.5k, get comfortable), obviously blasphemous filth (i'm getting back in the swing of it, i think), unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), oral sex (f on m), choking and hair pulling and oral fixation and all of my usual nonsense (this one is a little touchy, don't ask me why), bodily fluids (you guys know the drill), depiction of self-doubt and burnout and failure and general unhappiness (you always get a happy ending, though! because you deserve a happy ending), don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.) gif is not mine.)

(a/n: favorites! this story poured out of me over the course of the last couple of weeks, all thanks to one of my friends who showed me a picture of cc22 on pinterest (thank you, country music festival season. you will be missed). and here we are! with many creative liberties taken, you have yourself a story with my typical mythical and religious imagery, way too much description, dialogue that no one would say, and plot holes the size of canyons. but you guys keep indulging me anyways, and i love you and thank you for that. you're a stylist in this one! (something fun and different, i think). as for takeways - too often we get caught up in what we think we should have accomplished by now, what we think others expect from us, how terribly we must be letting them down. deep breath and let it go, favorites. all you can do is show up, over and over again. that will always be enough. you will always be enough. enjoy this piece of my heart until inspiration next strikes and please tell me what you think. go canucks (under el capitano hughes, even! that c on his jersey stands for chokes out his girl). my snakes say hi to your snakes. love and gentleness and strength to you, always always always.)

the first car ride to your new client's house was stressful, to say the least. and that wasn't even with arber's haphazard driving style taken into account.

"jesus," you bit out from the passenger seat, "i'd prefer to be alive for this meeting, bear."

"relax," he said, taking a right. you didn't have to be looking at him to know he was fighting the urge to roll his eyes. "and stop with the fidgeting. this isn't an interview. you're already hired."

you dropped your hands to your sides, stopped twisting your rings around your fingers as he had requested.

you exhaled a deep breath. he was right, after all. you already had the job. that honestly wasn't what you were worried about. you were worried about styling someone who wasn't arber. that was entirely new territory.

after all, you had known arber practically your entire life. he had been your best friend, your first boyfriend, then your best friend again. he was the number one person in your life, the person you felt most comfortable with.

you had been the first person he hugged after his family when he signed with the habs, the person who he called to pick him up after a night out, the one who he asked for help when he was texting a new girl.

so, when he had asked you to be his full-time stylist, you had dropped everything, said yes immediately.

to be fair, though, you hadn't had to drop much. you knew he had asked you partially to be kind, as the offer came during the worst period of your life. freshly dropped out of school, cheated on and broken up with, without a purpose or direction in sight, arber had been the one to extend a hand, offer you a new dream like it was nothing but a jacket in the cold.

and it was your dream, genuinely. you had been studying at school to be a fashion journalist, aspiring to work in new york one day, have an office in a skyscraper, read your pieces in the print of a glossy magazine.

but things change. things fall apart. and things get glued back together again like china teacups.

you were so, so grateful, though. you loved your job. you loved bringing out the best in arber, you loved discovering new sides of the fashion industry, you loved the travel and the events and the fact that your best friend was your employer.

sometimes though, you couldn't help but feel like you were missing something, like your heavenly wings had been sawed off, leaving only dissipated potential and thick blood running down your back. and the weight. oh, how you felt the weight of your wings even though they were gone, stolen.

you felt the weight now, as arber pulled you both into the driveway, parked, turned to you. "deep breath, okay?"

you obeyed, your exhale coming out a little shaky. he put a warm hand on your shoulder, squeezed. "ready to expand your business?"

you gave him a smile, a genuine one. he had always referred to this whole agreement as your business, even though it was entirely his idea.

you nodded, to which he smiled. you both got out of the car and walked to the door. arber rang the doorbell as you straightened out the legs of your pants, even though you had pressed them this morning.

not a big deal, you thought to yourself. just adding another client. just adding another client, that's all, nothing serious.

you knew you were wrong as soon as the door opened.

your new client stood in the doorframe, much shorter than arber and maybe an inch taller than you. he looked like the human embodiment of stability, in all senses of the word. he was broad, so strong looking, you knew it must be impossible to knock him over. but his kind eyes, his warm energy, he just looked so stable. so happy, so secure.

and his smile. what other way was there to take that smile, if not serious as death?

you blinked. arber slapped you on the back, made you cough. had someone been talking?

"this is cole," arber said, shooting you a look that said dial in. he gave cole your name.

you cleared your throat and extended your hand, smiled softly. "pleasure to meet you, cole," you said. "'m excited to start working with you."

you were hit, then, with the full force of his gaze, the entirety of his gorgeous smile. "'d bet you i'm more excited, love," he said, so laidback, enveloping your outstretched hand in his, giving you a first shake.

"easy," arber warned his teammate with a look, referring to the obviously flirtatious tone cole had adopted. cole just smiled.

his palm was rough with wear, with work, and warm with promise. your hand felt heavy in his. you felt like your body might let out a comical sigh of relief at the perfect easiness of his touch.

at that realization, you dropped your hand, brushed your palm on your jeans. you didn't see his eyes follow the movement, nor did you see his jaw work for only a moment.

"i'll leave you to it, then," arber said, clapping his hand in cole's in goodbye. he had told you he would introduce you, but you knew he had things to do, and now the actual work had to begin. your work. surely, you could expand your circle, just a bit, right? make some room?

"thanks again for sharing," cole said to your best friend.

"be good to each other," arber warned like a chastising parent, moving a pointed finger between the two of you.

"if you're anything like wifi," cole said to you, "don't think that'll be hard."

arber shook his head. "oh, she's much better than me," he said, and you knew he believed it, which made you feel those phantom scars on your back. not even close, you thought.

you rolled your eyes, his antics bringing a smile out of you regardless. "sure," you said. "i'll see you tomorrow, bear."

the corner of cole's full mouth ticked up at your nickname for his teammate. he stepped back and held open the door to his house. "after you, love," he said, gentle as anything.

you bowed your head slightly in thanks, partially to hide the flush that now bloomed on your cheeks at the prospect of being alone with cole.

"i hope arber told you that you can trust me, and stuff," cole said, rubbing the back of his neck as you both walked through the entryway. "i know this is kind of out of the blue, and all that, but apparently, i really need your help, so-"

you bit back a grin. "apparently?"

he tilted his head, sucked on his teeth, gave you a guilty sort of smile. "alright," he started, "i didn't think i needed any help in the fashion department." he pulled out a stool at his kitchen countertop for you before walking around to the fridge, beginning to pour two glasses of water.

"did you?" you asked to his back as he faced away. his back that rippled under his t-shirt. which you definitely didn't notice.

there was a goofy, fake accusative look on his face as he turned back to you, placing one water in front of you. "what are you implying?"

you reached across the counter to grab two coasters and set them in front of you both, thanking him. "nothing," you teased, "except that i've seen your instagram, and maybe that my presence here wouldn't be the worst thing in the world."

he squinted for a moment, maybe confused, as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the counter. "well, we agree on that, then," he replied.

a pause that felt like caramel settled between you two for a moment as you held each other's gazes. his, comfortable, and yours, curious.

you cleared your throat, brought up a hand to rub at your shoulder. "so, apart from thinking you don't need a stylist, what else do i need to know?"

"i don't know," he started. his forearms flexed, making the veins in his arms more prominent. "i like hats on gamedays?"

a grin broke across your face like sunlight. you let out a laugh. "yeah?"

"what?" he asked, fake offended again, but his smile was nothing but so utterly pleased.

you shook your head, crossed one leg over the other. "nothing," you said. "just don't know why the clients i attract are dead set on hats, of all things." you were thinking of all the times arber had insisted on a hat, even though you thought his hair had looked just perfect for the camera.

"how did you and wifi meet?" cole asked easily, perhaps also thinking about arber and his colorful hat collection. "or bear, right? that's what you call him?"

you blushed, nodded slightly.

"only if you're comfortable," he clarified, and it surprised you that you actually were. sitting here, in this stranger's house, you felt normal.

"we've known each other since grade school," you began, clasping your hands. "he's my best friend."

"you don't come to the games," cole said, nothing more than an observation.

you shook your head. "not a hockey fan," you admitted.

he tilted his head. "maybe you just haven't been watching the right player, love."

you rolled your eyes at his obvious arrogance. "okay, big guy."

he took a sip of water. "so you guys have always been friends?"

"we dated for about a year in high school," you said, leaning on your clasped hands. "my first boyfriend."

something interesting sparked in his gaze. something you noted. "and?"

you narrowed your eyes. "and some people aren't meant to be dating. arber and i are meant to be friends. why?"

just a bit of a blush crept across his nose. "no reason. how did you get into styling?"

you rubbed at your shoulder blades again. "arber offered me the job." you swallowed, omitted the rest of the story. you were comfortable, but not that comfortable. "he's the first and only person i've styled, up until now. until you."

meaning flooded his eyes. "i'm honored, then."

don't be, you thought, i'm not worthy of something like your honor.

"thanks for making some room for me," he finished, giving you another smile that had your heart feel like it was bubbling.

"if you didn't want a stylist," you asked, trying to slow down your heartbeat. "why am i here?"

"i was catching too much heat from the guys," he confessed, honest and unserious. "and wifi said he could hook me up. said you were the best of the best."

you closed your eyes and gave the slightest shake of your head as you smiled. of course he would say that.

"so, how do you usually start out?" he asked.

you thought to yourself for a minute. you didn't really know. "when i started with arber, i already knew everything about him," you said. "and i don't know anything about you, cole."

"except," he clarified, "that i like hats."

"yes, except that." you let out a low laugh. what must life be like, to take everything so lightly?

"what do you want to know?" he asked, running a hand through his soft-looking hair.

"style is about showing everyone a little more you," you explained. "what do you want people to see when they look at you?"

he scrunched his mouth to the side in thought. "i don't really care what people see." his emphasis told you that he cared about specific people, not people as a collective. what would it be like to be a part of those select few?

you took a breath. what it must be like. "okay. who are you dressing for?"

he appeared confused again, and he wore the expression like a child. "what do you mean?"

you could never be anything but patient with him. what would disappointment look like on him? you shuddered at the thought.

"you mentioned the guys in the locker room. are they your audience? or maybe the girls on social media?" he blinked. "who do you want to look good for?"

"how does arber answer this question?" cole asked.

you pressed your index finger to your lips playfully. "client confidentiality," you explained.

"i want to look good for me," he said. "i play better when i know i look good before the game."

you nodded, making a note of that. "good." his gaze softened into something lovely.

"but i wouldn't be mad if your help meant i get some more edits made of me."

a laugh burst free from your chest, organic and loud. it seemed to echo across the high ceilings, and it echoed in cole's head. "got it. show me your closet?"

you made to get up as he pushed off of the counter, his arms and chest flexing as he did so. you willed your flush to dull, not wanting to give yourself away or make him uncomfortable, although that seemed impossible.

"take me out to dinner first," he joked, making you roll your eyes as he led you to the master bedroom, then to his massive closet. he held the door open for you again.

"do we have enough hats?" you asked sarcastically, your eyes immediately drawn to his excessive collection.

"okay, lay off," he said, grinning, leaning against the doorframe. "they aren't going anywhere."

you panned through his button-downs, his trousers, his ties, overall pretty impressed. "lots of color," you observed. "especially in your accent pieces."

"i like to be a little different," he admitted.

you were glad you weren't looking at him head on. as if his presence wouldn't make him stick out in any crowd, no matter the size.

"you have a lot of nice pieces here," you complimented, finally.

he looked at you with such hope, you melted. "really, love?"

the name made you flutter off the ground, like you had wings again. like they had never been severed off with a rusted blade.

you nodded, met his gaze, decided you could probably live there, drowning in his attention. "yeah, cole. i'm excited to help the world see a little more of you." lucky world.

i'm excited to see more of you, you wanted to say.

something warm swirled in the air around the two of you. "thank you again for taking me on," he said. "you didn't have to, and i'm really happy you're here."

you could have sighed at those words. when was the last time someone had told you that, so explicitly?

you bit your lip. "okay, so wednesday? we can do measurements?" you said, hoping he didn't notice your breathlessness.

"perfect," he agreed.

so, on wednesday, you were back at cole's house, this time with all of your supplies, ready to begin what you hoped would be a wonderful partnership. and you were sure it would be, if only you could stop getting so distracted by your client.

and he was ever so distracting, now, having obviously just showered, flushed from steam, hair damp and dark, his eyes a drowsy and delicious sort of comfortable.

"you came back," he said as you stepped inside past him, past what you could assume was the smell of his shampoo - something fresh and almost floral.

you clutched your clipboard to your chest, looked at him curiously. "of course i did," you said. this was your job, after all. you were dedicated to your business, your craft. to your people. and cole was technically part of that circle now.

he put his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, shrugged. "just happy you're back, 's all."

you bowed your head to hide how much his words meant to you. how could he say things like that? things that meant everything to you, but he said them like they were the easiest thing in the world? like they were just an exhale?

"how was practice?" you asked softly as the two of you walked side by side to his closet. you knew it had been exhausting, at least from arber's curse-filled rambling that had blown up your phone the second his ice time ended. you had empathized with him, but mostly just reminded him to chug some gatorade and suck it up, he was a professional athlete.

the thought of telling cole caufield to suck it up almost made you sick to your stomach.

he blew out a breath. "tough, today," he said. "i won't bore you, though. know you're not a hockey fan." he said the last part with a joking sort of bite.

i want to know, you wanted to say. i want to know about you.

but you didn't want to scare him off, or come across as weird, so you didn't say anything.

"what's your plan for today?" he asked.

right. you had a plan. you put your clipboard between your side and your arm, pulled out your tape measure. "measurements," you said with a smile, almost shyly.

now that you thought about it, taking someone's measurements was an intimate act in itself. standing here, in front of him, you realized how dangerous this was.

was there anything more tense? than to know the width of one's thigh, having never seen it bare? to deeply understand the curve of one's neck, but through numbers, never touch?

"where do you need me?" he asked, and you wondered briefly if he registered why his words made you jittery.

one look at his ghost of a smirk and you had your answer. you cleared your throat. you put a pen behind your ear, tape measure and clipboard in your hands, held your arms up in a t. "like this," you said, and he mirrored you.

you took a breath before closing the space between you, beginning to measure the distance from the center of his chest to his fingertips.

did the silence weigh as heavily on him as it did you? like kindling, one spark away from a wildfire?

you recorded the number on your paper.

"what did you do today?" cole asked you gently, as if not to spook you. you wrapped the measure around his bicep as you thought to yourself.

"not much," you said, thinking about your slow morning, which you had spent drafting something like an article, exploring recent trends among male athletes. something no one would ever read, you were sure.

you were almost embarrassed at your inability to talk to him - keeping everything short, so short, as if keeping distance from a rabid animal.

he didn't seem to notice. "what did you have for lunch, then?"

a small smile began to pull at your mouth. "a grilled cheese."

he tilted his head back and let out something like a moan, something that had you bowing your head to hide your face.

something that made the air scream.

"that sounds amazing," he said as you bent down, held the measure at his feet and began to work it all up to his knee.

"yeah?" you replied, happy to not have to look at him, to have something to do with your hands. "maybe i'll make you one sometime."

there was a pause. "would you?" he asked, voice slow.

you scrunched up your face, met his gaze for only a second before turning back to your task. "yes," you said simply before pulling the measure up to his waist.

the number made your shoulder shake in a rumble of laugh.

"what?" you could hear the glow of a smile in his voice, bouncy and bubbly.

you shook your head. "nothing," you tried. "'m just used to different measurements."

"are you?" he asked. "don't tell me you're thinking about another man right now, love. it'd shatter my heart."

you laughed for real, at that. "it's just that arber is so tall, barely proportionate," you explained, writing on your clipboard again. "and you're-" you faded out, at a loss for words.

how could you even describe him?

"not six four?" cole offered, not even close to offended. almost cocky about it, somehow. he ran his tongue along the edges of his teeth, gave you a grin.

you shook your head. "not six four," you agreed. you twirled your finger in the air, motioning for him to turn around, his arms still in a t.

you now faced his back, became closely acquainted with the damp curls at the nape of his neck, with the practically pornographic indents in his shirt that marked his triceps.

"tall enough, though," he said into the air in front of him, snapping you out of your trace, cockiness oozing from his voice like blueberry syrup. "don't you think, love?"

you thanked every star there had ever been that he couldn't see you.

what could you say, here? what would be the normal thing to say?

"i think so, cole," you squeaked, trying not to let the smell of him so close make you dizzy. if you looked at his face, what would you see? what part of you would that heal?

you held the measure at one end of his full wingspan, pulled it all the way to his other outstretched hand. your fingertips just barely grazed the backs of his hands, only just a brush, and yet it felt like some private secret, like a stolen touch in an ancient ballroom.

you longed to run your hands across the planes of his shoulder blades, check for the wings you were sure you would find.

this golden boy would never have the ugly, jagged scars that you felt marred your own back. no, his wings would be bright and proud and every bit the wonder that he was. this beautiful angel boy would never know the grief and theft that you understood so personally.

"alive back there?" he said, a roughness to his voice that made you shiver.

you nodded although he wouldn't see it, finished your last measurements, cleared your throat, tapped the top of his spine once in finality.

he turned to you. face to face, his smile was so brutal you could have flinched.

"all done, love?" he asked, little more than a whisper. you couldn't stop your gaze from slipping to his mouth, if only for a second, maybe lingering on his full lips before snapping back to his shimmery eyes.

"all done," you repeated, low and heavy. "you should probably do your inseam." you forced a lightness into your tone to dissolve the tension you felt pressed between the two of you. "and don't embellish."

his smirk was nothing like the boys you'd had in the past. there was no trace of cruelty, only a cocky sort of satisfaction. a knowing. "i'd never lie to a pretty girl like you," he rasped. "and besides," he added. "embellishment's not necessary."

you bit back a nervous laugh, tried not to let your mind wander, tried not to wince at the word pretty in his voice ricocheting against your head.

then he was handing you back your tape measure, giving you a number with that smirk on his face.

and then the cockiness was gone, replaced by something soft.

his head tilted ever so slightly as he leaned forward, just an inch, angled his face to your neck before retreating back to meet your gaze again.

your face felt hot, your feet like someone had poured cement over the tops of your shoes.

"you smell nice," was all he said, ever the gentle observation.

you blinked at him, rubbed at your shoulder blades unconsciously. "thank you," you breathed.

all of a sudden he was glowing much too bright, like staring into the midday sun, just this mass of potential, so much potential without even a smidge of doubt.

this potential, his potential, there was no doubt that it would be realized, exceeded even. no doubt at all. beautiful golden angel boy. his wings were too much to bear, just now.

you mumbled an excuse to leave, rushed to gather your things, ignored the confused scrunch of his brow, nodded affirmation about your shopping appointment tomorrow, hurried out the door with a shy goodbye. so rushed, so shy, you missed the way longing invaded his gaze as he opened his front door for you, watched you get into your car and drive away.

you hated the way slow, burning tears ran down your cheeks as you drove, the kind that hang at your jaw and feel like they must leave some kind of mark behind - some kind of ugly scalded scar.

and you weren't mad at him, that would be impossible. you weren't even jealous. you had known for years that you would never get your wings back, and it wouldn't even be the same if you did. to sew them back in would be so painful, so traumatic. so no, you weren't jealous.

it hurt, then, it hurt so terribly to want someone so, so different, someone so much better. you felt as if you would never deserve to bask in the glow of his attention, to hear what his voice sounded like when it was drenched in syrupy sleep, to know what his perfect mouth would feel like on your collarbone.

you went to sleep with a phantom ache. you went to sleep sad.

the next morning was better.

you were at arber's, laying out a couple of options for him to wear to a casual sponsorship event he was attending later.

after your usual catching up while you sorted through some of his shirts, his voice adopted an airy sort of inquiry.

"so," he began, sitting and leaning back against the wall, his elbows resting on his knees. "how's coley? 's he being nice to you?"

you scrunched up your face, laying one shirt down on top of some dark brown trousers. "'course he's being nice to me," you said. "don't think he's got a mean bone in his body."

"alright," arber relented. "you bein' nice to him, then?"

"yeah." you met his eyes, couldn't shake the worry in your tone. "why? did he say something 'bout me being mean?"

you knew the smugness on arber's face all too well. a set up. it made you roll your eyes, throw a balled up t-shirt at him.

he laughed. "i knew it," he said. "since day one. since before day one, actually."

"shut up, bear," you grumbled.

"i'm just excited for you," he defended, still in that teasing tone. "been a while since you've had a crush, eh?"

in reality, you hadn't really had a crush since your fall from grace. since that demon from your past had left you like you were nothing, like you were a pointless chore.

you grabbed a couple pairs of sneakers. "whatever," you said, tried not to sound defeated.

"what does that mean?"

"crushes are meaningless," you said.

"crushes are fun," arber corrected you.

you scoffed. "it's basically painful for me to be around him."

"fuck." arber threw a sock at you. "so you really like him, then." he shrugged to himself. "i called it."

"how could you have possibly called this?" you asked, genuinely, holding a baseball cap next to a sneaker to see if the shades of navy matched. "cole is, like, the opposite of my usual type."

arber laughed again. "and what good has your usual type ever done you?"

you rolled your eyes, despite that fact being absurdly true. "you know you count as part of that demographic, right?"

"with me being the obvious exception," he amended. "as i'm not a sadistic asshole."

you finished laying out his options, stepped back.

"i like the navy one," arber said immediately.

you were nodding already. "i knew you would."

he made to stand up. "so, you seeing him today?"

"we're shopping," you said, taking a breath.

"sounds fun," arber tried. you lack of a response was notable.

"i'm scared," you whispered eventually. "he's just so..."

no words seemed to do him justice.

"good?" arber offered, half shrugging a massive shoulder.

maybe that word did.

"wanna know something?" he asked, slowly draping his arms behind your head and pulling you into a hug. you relaxed into his familiar embrace.

"what?" you said into his chest.

"you are, too."

you carried your friend's words with you like a talisman as you mentally prepared to see cole again.

and when you arrived at your agreed meeting spot, like a vision, he was there, waving at you. and no preparation would have been enough, you realized, as his easy kind of beauty would stay breathtaking no matter how long you knew him.

his hair curled into his face as he pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head, drawing your gaze to the slope of his nose, the symmetry of his high cheekbones.

you rubbed at your shoulder blades and waved back at him. "hey," you said when he was in front of you.

"you came," he said, his voice laced with such pleasantness you could taste the sugar of it on your tongue.

"of course i did," you sing-songed, knowing you had had a conversation like this with him before.

"well, i'm happy i get to see you," he replied as you began to walk side by side. "where to first?"

so you went shopping with your client, and as you did, you couldn't help but recognize how cole had this way of making you feel like showing up was all you ever needed to do.

like the phantom weight of your wings was gone, like they had never been there, because the only you he knew was the one standing in front of him right now.

and that you seemed perfectly enough for him.

every time you held up a shirt to his frame, every time he met your gaze, each accidental brush of a touch - it all felt like something you had dreamed up.

"can i ask you a question, love?" he asked at one point as you both entered a store that specialized in sneakers.

you nodded.

"how come you always wear..." he trailed off, opting instead to gesture to your daily uniform of well fitting jeans and a flawlessly ironed button down.

"how come the stylist isn't more stylish?" you asked, a teasing smile beginning to come free.

"not necessarily." cole shrugged. "you always wear the same thing. just wonderin' if there's a reason."

your heart fluttered at the idea of him observing something about you and wanting to understand the reasons why.

you quickly realized it was probably important to him, from an employer standpoint, to understand his stylist's clothing decisions, and the fluttering wilted.

you looked away. "because it's not about me," you said, picking up a unique looking pair from a shelf.

when you turned to show him, his confused expression startled you. it looked so genuine on him.

"it has to be, sometimes, right?"

no, you wanted to tell him, it's all so much easier when it's not about me. when it's not about what i want. please don't make me think about what i want.

"yeah," you said instead, less than convincing, "right."

and the day continued, successfully, if you said so yourself, as you got a better sense of what cole actually liked to wear. unfortunately, you also got a better sense of who cole was, and that was very much not helping in your desire to stop wanting him.

how his laugh came so often, and still so truly. how his smile never dimmed, a glow that seemed to permeate the thick thorns around your heart. how he asked you more questions about yourself than maybe anyone.

when you suggested a darker color, so as not bring attention away from his eyes, he asked, "where did you learn that?"

and he would listen so intently as you explained how color theory was one of the first things you learned in university.

and he would say, "that must be why you wear red shoes a lot, then. to match with your undertones."

and you would nod and try to hide your blush before it began to match your patent red slingbacks.

and then later he said, "i didn't know you went to university, love. what did you think of it?"

and you would feel embarrassed but still compelled to say, "i didn't finish it." because lying to him about that seemed cruel, stupid, petty. because lying to him seemed impossible.

and he would say, "but what did you think of it?" with no trace of judgement or expectation and you almost didn't ever remember what it was like to have wings, what your fall from grace was like, what that searing blade felt like on your back.

so a smile that was beautiful because it was true would grace your mouth as you told him, "i loved it." and it would feel so deliriously liberating to tell someone that. for someone else to know that you really had loved school, and that dropping out hadn't been what you wanted but what you needed.

and that while you were so, so grateful for what you were doing now, there was a part of you that was so utterly glutted with rage at the fact that someone had taken that from you.

that someone had broken you so critically and completely that something you loved had morphed into something you couldn't manage, something that would only break you more.

and that every day was another day closer to healing, another day closer to being okay with the fact that the past had already happened.

and cole would smile just because you were smiling.

later on, towards the end of your excursion, when he held up a positively dreadful hat that matched definitively nothing, you couldn't help but laugh.

and if your eyes weren't shut you would have seen how something sparkled in his eyes like rippling water.

"c'mon," he pleaded. "it's perfect."

"it's definitely something," you conceded, hating the hat but loving the way he seemed to love it.

"please, love," he begged, and you didn't even know why he was asking you, as it was his money, and at the end of the day, his wardrobe.

you didn't mind the tone his voice had taken on, though, if you admitted it to yourself. he made pleading sound so pretty.

"how about this?" you offered. "we can do a 'one for me, one for you' rule." you met his excited gaze. "to make sure we balance what i think is right and what you want."

"one for me, and one for you," he repeated.

you nodded. "almost like we're working together on an art project, or something."

he laughed, and it was glittery. "but i'm the art project," he responded, delighted at the metaphor.

you wanted to tell him that he was a masterpiece.

the following weekend marked the first preseason game that you would be styling him for.

very early the morning of, you drove over, having already met with arber and gotten him squared away.

"don't you dare make him look better than me," arber warned you on your way out.

you rolled your eyes. "good luck today, bear," you called over your shoulder.

"i'm serious! no playing favorites just because you want to fu-"

you shut the door before he could finish his sentence.

now, here you were, pulling pieces from cole's closet as he sat on the edge of his bed.

"what are you feeling like today?" you asked him as you thumbed through jackets. "brown or black?"

"i'm feeling like that light purple tie over there," cole replied immediately, pointing to the one he was talking about and not answering your question.

you shook your head. "well, we'll do one for me," you said as you grabbed a beautiful soft brown suit, "and one for you," you finished as you plucked the purple tie from its holder.

you completed his look together and then waited in the kitchen for him to change.

you heard his footsteps behind you, causing you to turn. "well," his rough voice asked, "what do you think?"

seeing him made you feel like the wind had been knocked out of you.

but there was something almost sinisterly personal about seeing him in clothes you had styled him in, a collaboration of his likes and your knowledge, a combination of him and you, right in front of you.

just as you had imagined, the soft brown complimented his coloring beautifully, the purple adding the perfect pop of spontaneity.

would it be like this every time? would he always feel like best thing you had ever done?

"trying to take your silence as a compliment, love," he joked, and you scolded yourself that he had even gone a second without knowing how beautiful he looked.

you approached him, then, reached up to adjust his collar, one of the first times you had willingly and unnecessarily thrust yourself into his personal space. which he noticed, by his sudden intake of breath, the way his chest rose and fell.

"look so handsome, cole," you told him honestly.

and you'd tell him a thousand times if he kept looking at you like this, like you were the sweetest thing he'd ever seen. like you were unscarred. or maybe that you were scarred, but that you were sweet anyway, like a just-over-ripe end of summer plum, the kind whose dark juice dribbles down your chin at first bite.

"thanks to you, love," he breathed, his voice a little short.

you dusted off his shoulders, relished in the sculpted muscle you felt under your palms. "you're a job well done, then," you said, and you loved the way his eyes warmed at your words, at the way you could physically see the effect you had on him, the way he wore his desire so shamelessly.

oh, to be shameless. you weren't there, not just yet. couldn't yet meet him at a shameless middle.

but as you left him to do any final preparations before his game, you couldn't help but feel that you were gliding, slowly, but absolutely, towards that meeting.

that feeling was strengthened that weekend, the last weekend before the real season began. you were scheduled to style both arber and cole for a country music festival in toronto.

for the last two years, you had styled arber for this event, as it was one of his favorite weekends of the summer.

it was one of your favorite events to style, too, as you rarely got to lean into a more western, almost cinematic sort of look.

it would be your first time thinking about this event from the perspective of two different clients.

arber's side was easy. he already had a favorite cowboy hat, a refusal to wear boots, an insistence on sneakers. it was only a question of colors, of brands to satisfy sponsorships, of what flannel shirt to rip the sleeves off of.

"and you're sure you don't want to come?" arber asked, ever the inclusive best friend.

"'m sure, bear," you said, although part of you wanted to come. something was holding you back though, something you didn't like very much. a fear of being a burden? a fear of feeling alone, surrounded by thousands? something like that.

arber knew you well, though.

"i'll see you at the festival," he said as you left him to get ready.

"what?" you asked, confused.

you could hear his smugness even though your back was turned. "know coley's going to ask the same thing and you're going to go all gooey-eyed. 'of course i'll come, cole,'" he said, doing a dreadful imitation of your voice at the end, "anything for you!"

you were happy he couldn't see your vengeful flush, your embarrassment at how accurate his statement had been.

anything for you was echoing around your brain when you showed up to cole's house, made your bow past him extra bashful, made his presence seem extra indulgent. being around him today smelled like brownies, like chocolate, like fudge that gets stuck on your teeth. it was rich. and it felt a little shameless.

you handed him a container with a grilled cheese you had made that morning. "'s your off day, right?" you explained. "just don't tell your trainer."

and maybe somebody else would have looked at you with expectation, maybe someone else would have thought what else will you do for me?

but cole's gaze was so genuine it melted you away. "for me, love?" he asked, and you could sighed at how happy he was in that moment. how easy it was for him to be happy. how it still felt so lovely to make him happy, despite the ease.

"of course for you," you said, willing nonchalance into your tone, even though that couldn't be farther from the truth. you began to walk to the closet. "now, about today's event-"

his hand grasped your wrist, ever so gently, like you were some kind of precious porcelain doll. like to disturb your beauty would be a malevolent crime. like he would lock himself up if he did.

his barely there touch stopped you where you stood. "thank you," he breathed, some kind of meaning twisted up in his words that was beyond you.

and you wanted to laugh nervously, wave him off, mutter something about how it was just a grilled cheese, for god's sake, how it didn't mean anything.

but lying to cole caufield had always felt like an impossible ask. so of course what you ended up saying was, "anything for you."

and of course you wanted to bang your head against his beautiful wallpapered wall after you said it. you could hear arber's grumble of a laugh in the back of your head.

if you had been focused on cole's face, then, you would have seen how the heat in his eyes burned like embers, how his jaw worked at your words.

but you were already opening his closet, the place in his house that was quickly becoming your safe space. "about today," you began, forcing the squeak out of your voice. "how do you feel about standing out a bit?"

"as in...." he said, an easy smile on his face like he was just happy to listen to you talk.

"as in full western," you answered, hope dripping from your tone like granulated sugar.

he looked at you with a teasing skepticism.

"please?" you asked, barely noting how his eyes darkened, if only for a second. "please let me dress you up, coley?"

you knew you had him. and you were right, but to a greater degree than you realized.

"dress me up, then, love," he conceded, leaning against the doorframe.

your smile was nothing short of triumphant. when was the last time you had felt triumph?

"one for me," you sing-songed as you placed a pair of cowboy boots at his feet like an offering, setting the tone of the final look immediately.

"and one for me," he said, soft, picking out the hat you had been going to choose anyways. something told you he knew this, which made your blush begin to creep up your neck and past your ears.

so you went spar for spar, picking out pieces until you the final look of your dreams was laid out in front of him.

you left him to get changed, but as you passed him in the doorway, you rubbed gently at his shoulder. "you're too good to me, cole," you said, in a joking tone, but you meant every word. "letting me win."

he exhaled and relaxed into your comfortable touch. "like it when you win," he said.

and what could you even say to that? so you didn't say anything, went to wait for him in the kitchen. everything felt warm. what a delicious pleasure, to have someone say they were rooting for you. suddenly being a professional athlete made a lot of sense to you.

"'m glad i let you dress me up," he said as he walked in, adjusting his hat. "i think standing out might be exactly what i need before the season starts."

and when he stood in front of you, a vision of western silhouettes and muted denim colorways, a pop of red here and there, you could have clapped yourself on the back. he looked like a truly wonderful combination of a trashy airport romance novel and a luxury magazine editorial.

his embroidered denim button down strained at his thick biceps and shoulders, his shorts the same sort of tense around his thighs.

you clasped your hands behind your back to release some of the pressure that had begun to coil up inside of you like a mechanical snake.

you didn't think you would ever get used to seeing the fruits of your imagination painted across cole's body. it was a special kind of intimacy. a torturous one, almost.

you approached him again, pulled at his sleeves in a teasing sort of way. "a little small in the arms, yeah? maybe around the thigh, too?"

he tilted his head, his gaze filled with cocky knowing. "and who took the measurements, love?"

you had entered an unknown land, the boundaries of which were unclear, blurry. it fizzed at the edges with danger.

accordingly, he brought a hand to your chin and held your jaw gently. "starting to think you did it on purpose," he breathed, something rough and raspy beginning to invade his tone.

"i'd never do such a thing," you defended, emboldened by his hand, by his courage. your hands were again clasped behind your back. don't cross a line, you thought to yourself. don't.

"i'd be willing to forgive you," cole started, his trailing off meaning there would be a condition.

his thumb had begun to trace feather-light circles on your jaw.

"if?" you asked.

"if you come with me today," he said plainly, openly, easily. always easily.

"done," you said, almost as easily. even if you knew there would be hell to pay when arber saw you. even if you knew the line between work and pleasure was becoming very, very thin. perhaps transparent.

as you drove back to your place to change into something a bit more suited for a festival, it dawned on you that you hadn't thought about your wings at all, hadn't rubbed at your shoulders the whole time you had been with cole that day. not even once.

with him, you didn't need to be the beautiful, smart prodigy practically overflowing with potential. you didn't need wings.

you just needed to show up. so, that's what you did.

you showed up for him at the festival, very notably not in your everyday uniform, instead in a vintage sundress you had been dying to wear and your boots, a unique pair of accent sunglasses pushed up into your hair.

it felt good to wear something different, to wear something a little more out there, to wear a bit of you. you were not used to giving the world a bit more of yourself, having felt before that perhaps the world didn't need any more of you.

you glanced at your phone, approached the spot that arber suggested you meet the group at, quickly recognized the clothes you had put together this morning.

you hugged arber first, elbowed him lightly when he whispered, "change your mind, did you?" into your ear.

you smiled, rolled your eyes, but you could see in his gaze that he was just happy that you had decided to come, that whatever you had going on with cole was enough to bring you here.

he introduced you to some of his other teammates, their respective friends and partners, everyone being especially welcoming.

some of his other teammates joked about how they might be needing your stylistic help soon, too, and their girlfriends might have shared a look with you and mouthed "please" with a friendly grin.

you could feel cole's eyes on you the entire time you stood there, could have touched the side of your face to check if his gaze had seared a burn into your skin.

finally you turned to face him, were starkly unprepared for the vulnerable desire you found lurking in his eyes like some kind of mythical beast.

you couldn't help but smile at him, tilted your head, asking him a silent question.

can i trust what i'm seeing? how do i know my vision isn't a liar, like everything else?

"you came," he said to you, then, like he had so many times before.

"of course i did," you said, like you had so many times back to him.

you adjusted his hat on his head, straightened it, tilted it down slightly, creating a bubble-like barrier between the two of you and everyone else.

you picked up right where you left off, on the fringes of danger. danger you felt as he only barely touched your fingertips with his, not quite holding hands, almost.

he thumbed the hem of your dress between his fingers. "wear something pretty for me, love?" his gaze flared across your figure like high beams, getting stuck on your exposed legs like sediment, coating your bare shoulders thickly, like brownie batter.

who are you dressing for, that's what you had asked him at the beginning.

"'cause you look it," he clarified, raspy, "just so pretty."

and you blushed strawberry pink, let the group lead you to the main stage, settled into the space as the artist came on.

set after set, you couldn't remember the last time you had existed so carelessly, so gently, so shamelessly.

there were no thoughts of the past, of wings that once were, of anything but dancing with your best friend, laughing with his teammates, singing along with their girlfriends like you had known them your whole life.

you felt so light, so present, so perfect.

light on your feet, almost floating, each time your gaze caught on cole's, immediately tugging a smile free on your face, the kind you felt in your ears, in your jaw, in your squinting eyes.

present, absolutely no where else, each time you heard cole's starburst of a laugh, the sound ringing through the air and your head like a bell, like a lullaby.

perfect as anything, each ghost of a touch you both stole from each other throughout the afternoon. making an excuse for hair in your face, for a bustling crowd, for having a bit to drink, for a thread that had come free. excuses that were unnecessary, that nobody believed anyways.

late into the afternoon, you pressed a hand to your collarbone, felt a glow of heat under your palm. you bit your lip, found cole next to you. "'m gonna get burned," you said to him, shaking your head like you had said a joke, like you had said can't take me anywhere, hm?

but he only started to unbutton his shirt, making your eyes widen more as he revealed more and more skin.

"what are you doing?" you whispered, a sort of pleading tone injected into your voice. something like please don't do this to me.

something that he heard, must have, given the smirk that crept onto his face at your flush, at your voice. "gentle, pretty girl," he soothed, now entirely shirtless, entirely distracting. he handed his shirt to you. "can't have you burning up."

you tried not to be too terribly touched. you took the sunglasses off of your face and handed them to him. "one for you, one for me," you said with a smile as you traded.

"one for you, one for me," he repeated like a child repeats a prayer, doused in a desperate kind of faith. he pushed your sunglasses up onto his head, making his soft hair stick up in a million different directions.

you let him hold your drink as you shouldered on his shirt, fastened the top two buttons, tried not to get dizzy at the scent of him all over you.

just then, your favorite artist in the lineup came onstage to begin their set, cheers from the crowd loud and warm.

you faced the stage now, away from cole, clapping your hands, flushed with excitement.

a flush that only deepened as the music began, as you felt cole behind you, as he wrapped his arms around your front and swayed with you to the rhythm, something twangy and groovy.

"'s this okay?" he whispered, resting his chin between your head and shoulder, his mouth so close to your ear that you could feel the heat of his breath.

maybe okay wasn't the right word for this. this being his thick arms resting lazily around your hips, his bare broad chest against your back like puzzle pieces slotted together.

you nodded, regardless, had a hard time focusing on anything but the feeling of him, so close. "'s okay," you breathed.

maybe okay wasn't the right word.

"can you see?" you asked, hesitantly relaxing back into his chest, draping yourself across him like some kind of quilt.

you felt his laugh more than heard it, the shiver it evoked making it's way up to your hairline.

"tall enough, remember, love?" he whispered.

you snaked one of your hands back, ran your nails lightly across his neck, his curls. "more than enough," you said, not really referring to his height, more so just him. how this beautiful golden angel boy was more than enough.

the night fell like blackberry jam, thick and sweet and like home. you lost track of time as you slouched deeper against cole's body, as he began to hold you up a bit as you grew tired, continuing to sway to the music all the time. you had never been more comfortable. nothing had ever been easier.

too soon the night was over. you felt the residue of the sun on your face like a blush, the weight of the day in your legs. too soon you were hugging your new friends goodbye, handing your number out to the ones who were interesting in perhaps becoming a client, a few of the girls saying they better be seeing you at games, soon.

too soon you were at the passenger door of arber's truck, as he had arranged to drive you home after you told him you were coming.

cole walked you to the door, opened it for you, held your warm hand as you hopped into the lifted truck.

"you have everything for the road trip?" you asked him, referring to the outfits you had picked out together for him to wear for his series of away games.

he nodded, something flickering in his eyes. did he feel the shadow of you against him as you did him? was he cold like you were, without his exhales on your collarbone?

"travel safe," you said, your words brimming with meaning. i'll miss you went unsaid, but not unrecognized.

"the gala when i get back, yeah?" he said, almost drowsy.

"i've already got some ideas," you said, and the thought brought a smile to your face.

something dangerous flashed across his face, making your stomach flutter, your heart tense. "i've got some ideas too, pretty girl."

and then arber got into the driver's seat, said goodbye to cole, who returned the sentiment.

"i'm really happy you came," he said to you as the car started. i'll miss you, too.

you had a dreamy smile on your face as arber drove away.

"i like your friends," you said.

"they like you," he returned before smirking. "some more than others."

you rolled your eyes, but it was no use. hope bubbled up in you like caramelizing sugar. "does it bother you?" you asked then, squinting, realizing you hadn't really asked your best friend what he thought.

"does what bother me?" he asked. "you coming out to things you never would have a couple months ago?"

you went to cut him off, but he pressed on.

"or that you smile more now than i've seen in years? or that you seem to be genuinely enjoying your work?"

he wasn't lying, wasn't wrong, wasn't even critical.

you had always felt that you connected with arber because he, too, walked with the distinct slouch of a fallen angel, of a being, once heavenly, now devoid. the same evidence of struggle, of lack.

it dawned on you then that you had never judged him for it, had only appreciated him more. maybe it was time to extend yourself the same appreciation, the same forgiveness.

it was arber who had extended a hand to you in that place of darkness, but it had been you who had taken it. it had been you who had gotten up.

you had always been the most wonderful team. the kind of trust existed between you that perhaps one only offers their first love.

"you know i just want to see you happy, don't you?" he said, a bit softer than his typical biting humor. "if that's him, i could never be bothered."

"i do know that," you said, and you meant it. "i don't tell you enough how much i appreciate you, bear. but i do."

how lucky you felt to know you had him by your side no matter what, that no matter what happened, you had your best friend. to know that he had you, too.

you made sure he was all squared away for his trip, gave him a hug goodbye, told him to text you when he landed.

and such began the week of time away.

a week you filled with planning, preparations, shopping, lists, moodboards, drafting articles that (probably) no one would read but you wrote them anyway.

a week you wore things that didn't match, clashing colors and aesthetics, frilly silk skirts and sneakers, jerseys and business trousers. just to see how it would feel, just because you could. shameless.

no matter how busy you kept, you missed cole. you missed the way your stomach would flip when he would open his front door, the way he smelled after he showered, you missed his firework of a laugh and the way his voice would get raspy with use.

it was hard to leave off at the point that you did - seemingly on the precipice of the point of no return.

part of you hated that you had left everything so uncertain still. every possibility of what he felt, what would happen, it twisted around you like a lovesick tornado. what would happen when he returned?

would you have to build up to everything again? would he forget what you felt like against him? would he even want you to remind him?

or maybe he would kiss you immediately, like you so desired. as he was away, your workdays became interrupted by visions of his lips, phantom hands on your hips, your fingers on his throat, his in your hair.

visions that left you a little breathless. a little flushed. but wanting, above all else. they left you wanting.

so you were a little scared, a little tense, but mostly full of want when you arrived at cole's for the first time since he'd arrived home after a successful string of games on the road. the week had gone by fast, but also painfully slowly.

today you planned to prepare for the gala tomorrow for one of his teammate's charities, a black tie event, sure to be a fun night to style.

today you wore a dress, and that said enough.

when cole opened the door your breath caught. beautiful golden angel boy.

he looked so soft, then. the angle of his jaw, of his cheekbones, perfectly distilled by his halo-like messy hair, his flushed face, almost girlish nose. you missed seeing his face in front of you, noticing everything about him.

what a privilege, to be close enough to cole caufield to notice things about him.

"after you, love," he said, stepping back and allowing you though. you bowed your head as you walked past him, a plume of his scent dissolving around your face.

how many times had you had this same interaction? had it always felt so electric? had the air been vibrating like this the whole time?

you made your way to his room, to his closet, just like always, catching up, asking him questions about his trip.

yes, he was a little tired, and yes, the team looked good, though he wished he had finished a couple more of his net-front chances. yes, arber did well, even coach said so.

and he asked you about your week as you began to lay out some options, occasionally referring to your clipboard of notes, moodboards, ideas.

yes, you had a nice week. yes, you ate well, really. you wrote a bit, and he could read the articles, if he really wanted to, which he insisted that he did.

"and how do you feel about a three-piece?" you asked.

"that depends," cole began, taking up his usual post, leaning on the doorframe. "how do you think i would look in a three-piece?"

you felt a blush begin to creep up your neck. "remember when you said you dressed for yourself?" you said in a teasing tone.

"still do, love," he defended. "just got a panel to consult, first, these days."

you exhaled. "you know i think you look lovely in anything, cole," you said. it had always felt like a crime, the prospect of lying to him.

you could feel the heat of his gaze on you as you panned through his dress shirts, his vests, his ties. you could feel the sparks of his eyes ignite into flames, flames that licked at your legs and tensed the coil inside of you.

was his halo beginning to singe the ends of his hair?

"did i ask you yet if you missed me?" he said, lazy but attentive, his eyes sharp.

you approached him, held a couple of ties up to his face. a forest green, a baby blue, a burnt orange. "you didn't ask me," you said, your gaze glancing to meet his between swatches. "do you really need to?"

the air fizzed and sparked. you could practically smell smoke.

you looked back to the ties, scrunched up your face in thought before nodding. "one for me," you began, referring to the baby blue tie you had chosen.

"and one for me," cole breathed out, all in one motion grasping your face in his rough hands and capturing your lips with his. his kiss tasted like a home-cooked meal after a semester away at university. it smelled like sugar and smoke and cinnamon and felt like floating, like flying.

it was rushed and just so desperate and rough but also gentle. there had never been anyone, after all, who had been as gentle with you as cole had, as if he was holding your delicate, bleeding heart in his hands, taking care of it for you until you were ready to house it again.

you dropped whatever you were holding, wrapped your arms behind his neck, your way of saying, closer, please. your way of saying finally.

he walked you backwards until you were the one leaning against the doorframe, the plane of it pressing between your shoulder blades. you twisted one hand in his hair, pulling gently.

he moaned into your mouth, making you smile into his as he brought one hand to brace against the frame, just next to your hip, the other still resting on the side of your face.

"please, love," he said, little more than a whimper. "i need you."

pressing himself against you using his leverage, you could feel exactly how desperate he was, just how much he had missed you, too. was there any better feeling than bringing an angel to his knees?

your sly smile turned mocking, your voice dripping in desire, still. "stop whining," you breathed.

the way he immediately did as you said, without question, eyes wide and glossed in waiting for your next move, it felt shockingly beautiful.

you had always been plagued by the struggle of a fallen angel. but here, now, with cole, you didn't feel like an angel at all. he made you feel like a god. and what good did shame ever do any god?

you gripped his shirt and pulled him out of the doorway, away from the closet, the place that had become something like a cathedral for both of you.

a cathedral for which the only accepted sacrifice was the sacrifice of shame, left bloody and dead on an altar welded from want.

you pushed him back onto his bed, the one you had walked by so many times, had barely allowed yourself to look at.

he leaned back with a grunt, put one elbow behind him and the other on his thigh, seemingly waiting patiently for you. ever so patient. always had been.

you sunk down to your knees, rested your elbows on his, now spread apart, looked up at him through your lashes, tilting your head as he brought one hand from his thigh to your head, lacing it through your hair. your mouth watered.

"can i suck you off, coley, please?" you begged as his grip on your hair tightened. "want to feel you in my mouth so bad, baby, can i?"

he whimpered at your words, was already nodding feverishly, moving clothes aside so you had better access to him.

you bit your lip as you pulled him out, felt the weight of him in your hands, hot and thick and -

"told you i didn't have to lie about measurements." cole's joking words broke you from a trance of heavy seriousness. you looked up at him, your delicate grip pumping him up and down, and found him to be smiling, a big, toothy, goofy one.

you couldn't help but laugh, a real laugh, one that had you flushing and shaking your head.

this, this was the real privilege. to be on your knees in front of him and still have him making you laugh. you knew then that you could be awkward and messy and still be beautiful, perhaps even because of your awkwardness and messiness. you could be a beast of desire and want and still be worthy of his smile.

then you took him in your mouth, moved your head slowly up and down, hollowing out your cheeks, promptly catching the laugh in his throat and urging it into an almost anguished moan instead.

he held your hair to the side, tilted his head back when you took him all the way to the back of your throat.

"fuck, love," he groaned, the curse guttural on his typically clean tongue. "bein' so perfect for me. feels so good."

his words spurred you on, pushed the pace of your rhythm, made you rake your nails down his thigh.

you felt his overstimulated shudder in your teeth as he grew impossibly harder in your mouth.

his breaths grew short and choppy, his moans whiny as his thighs tensed under your hand.

you pulled yourself off of him, spit running down your chin, your eyes watery and lashes clinging together as you pumped him with your hand.

he met your gaze and promptly moaned. "look so pretty, love, gonna cum if you keep lookin' at me," he whined.

and so the dirty, messy, and awkward god grew bashful at the angel's words.

"want you to cum for me, coley," you pressed, running a thumb over his sensitive tip. "please?"

something dark flickered across his gaze like lightning in a storm, powerful and inevitable. in a motion he pulled you to your feet, pushed your legs apart so you could straddle his hips, your dress pooling around you both, your center precariously and dangerously against his hard cock.

"hate sayin' no to you, pretty girl," he said, your faces again just a breath apart. "but gotta fuck you first, yeah? been dreaming about it."

now it was your turn to nod feverishly, to lift your hips up gently and let him angle himself underneath you. the seconds felt gelatinous. you both took a breath.

a breath you both released as you sank down onto him that first time, his coming out strangled and yours full of relief.

you both paused for a moment, you adjusting to him and he to you.

his stretch made you dizzy, a pull you could feel in your throat, in your fingertips. he mumbled something incoherent that dissolved into a groan as you began to move your hips up and down, each push deeper than the last.

you rested one hand on his lower stomach, grounding you, the other coming to gently grasp at his throat, squeezing only the tiniest bit. "like you've been dreaming, baby?" you asked, only a little teasing, only because you knew he could take it.

he moaned louder, nodded, dug his hands into your hips, began to meet you thrust for thrust.

something possessed you then, something hazy and hot, something had you moving your hand from his throat to his cheeks, clutching at his face in a way that forced his mouth open. open enough for you drop your head, almost like you were going to kiss him again, but instead letting spit drop from your mouth into his.

you could have sighed at how easily he swallowed, how his eyes were brimming with lust and something softer when he opened them and found you, there.

his eyes made you whimper, which made him thrust up into you harder, a little faster, somehow deeper.

"so wet for me, love, fuck," he bit out, dragging a slow hand from your hip to your bottom lip, sticky with spit. "take it," he moaned, an order but also a plea. "so good, love, take it."

you let him push his fingers into your mouth, let him rest them there, your eyes rolling back at the feeling of him everywhere inside of you. so deep you felt him in your stomach, the back of your throat. your heart, most of all.

you became aware of the hair sticking to the back of your neck with sweat, the pleasant evidence of effort that burned in your thighs, the croak of wear that had begun to tear at your voice.

you built up a rhythm, quick and hard. you rolled your hips back against him, hitting a new, perfect spot inside of you, making you clench tighter around him.

"feel you close," he rasped, "where do you need me?"

and you were back to that day, so far away, now, taking measurements. where do you need me? he had asked.

here, present you thought, here and now.

you tugged his hand from your mouth and led him to your folds, showing him exactly how to touch you. exactly what you needed.

his touch jolted through you, an electric current of desire, bringing you brutally close to your high as he continued to rub at your clit, thrust into you hard.

"fuck, coley," you whined, "'m so close for you. gonna cum all over your cock, baby. stretchin' me so perfect."

the muscles of his stomach clenched under your fingertips, his shoulders tense under your other palm as your motions up and down became messier, his thrusts sloppier, both of your breathing choppy.

"please cum for me, pretty girl," he breathed. "make me feel so good, yeah?" he grunted, almost a pained noise. "need you."

you did as told, his words and the beautiful vulnerability in his eyes sending right over the precipice of pleasure you had been teetering on. you came with a shuddering moan, collapsing into cole's damp chest, triggering his own orgasm, warm and raspy.

draped over him like a velvet curtain, you felt the rise and fall of his chest slowly become regular again against your cheek. the air around you was warm and stained with the enormity of your want, realized.

you tilted your head up to gaze at him, found him glowing, flushed, his hair fussed. he looked so beautiful.

"you look like an angel," you said, your voice all but a rasp as it escaped your worn-out throat.

his laugh was like honey and lemon. he shook his head, traced your jaw with his fingertips. "just a human, love," he said, a whisper. your eyelids grew heavy, your voice lazy. too lazy to stop the sweet smile that tugged at your mouth. one that he mirrored.

"me too," you breathed. he pressed his swollen lips to the top of your head.

and with that, with a sigh of relief, you finally laid your wings to rest, in the graveyard of things that had never been.

fin.

#hockey #nhl #hockey smut #nhl smut #cole caufield #cole caufield smut #cole caufield x reader #cole caufield imagine #jack hughes smut #jack hughes #trevor zegras smut #trevor zegras #quinn hughes #smut #jack hughes x reader #montreal canadiens #arber xhekaj smut #arber xhekaj

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sweatermuppet · 3 months

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What is it like being trans in New Hampshire? I'm trans in Maine and generally consider NH the black sheep of New England when it comes to queer politics. Some of my trans friends consider it a no-stop zone on our roadtrips.

uh it's pretty fine for me. i get kinda sad when people say NH isnt trans friendly (a sentiment ive seen a lot lately). i had an openly transitioning teacher in high school. i had many gay teachers in high school. i was one of the first kids to transition openly at my school & there were a lot of struggles but it was also 6+ years ago & mostly teachers were under-educated & didn't know how to protect me. i got in a fight & suspended over a kid who was transphobic toward me, but i was allowed to use the boy's bathroom & locker room & all of my core teachers were pretty good about using my name & pronouns

i have multiple trans friends, just locally, & know other trans people a little further out in NH from following them on IG. some pretty decent art scenes in various towns & those are LGBT-dense. one of my trans friends started estrogen yesterday (prescription thru informed consent). i will say in my experience, NH healthcare is lacking for transsexuals—it's been easier for me to go thru Massachusetts or NH planned parenthoods, but ive been able to receive treatment fairly easily (cost being one of the only major negative factors)

as for people, a lot of folks kind of don't care? there are of course republicans & conservatives & a disheartening amount of libertarians, but in my day to day, it's mostly "live free or die" & if you're not hurting anyone, it's not too big of a deal. some of the republicans in my life (like friends' dads) have the attitude of "well i don't get it" but they still call me silas & are generally alright with me, aren't hostile towards me

i see trans flags pretty often. i saw a bumper sticker last month that was the shape of NH completely colored in with the trans flag. there are a bunch of coffee shops & bookstores & artsy places nearby i can think of that employ trans people, house trans art, etc

recently, anti-trans & anti-LGBT bills have been introduced & passed in NH. two passed last month, which can be read about here. i saw some pretty disgusting sentiments shared about those bills on twitter when they were introduced. those make it harder to exist here, but it's not impossible & it does not immediately make all residents hostile toward transsexuals. i don't want people to abandon NH because they think it's too far gone or too hopeless. trans people will always exist in every state & every country & every corner, no matter how hostile those places become

people here love me, regardless of how political parties view me. people here fight for me. there are trans people & Black people & disabled people here who are more vulnerable than me who i want to stay & fight for & protect. if you'd like to learn more about diversity in NH & how to protect various human rights, here are some orgs i am familiar with:

NH PANTHERS (anti-racism advocacy & education)

Queer-Lective (art, education, & connection)

Black Lives Matter NH

GLSEN NH (LGBT resources & education for schools/teachers/students)

Reproductive Freedom Fund of NH (abortion fund, sex ed, LGBT advocacy)

603 Equality (LGBT advocacy & education)

Lovering Health Center (reproductive care, LGBT education, gender affirming care for NH, MA, & ME)

Black Heritage Trail of NH (Black history)

ACLUNH (civil liberties + human rights)

#sorry this is so long. this ask made me soooo sad. i was just talking to my roommate abt the NH unsafe mindset the other day #anonymous

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simsyworld · 10 months

Text

Reclaimed Roots, A Legacy Challenge.

One fateful day, as you flip the pages in the local newspaper, your eyes fall upon an advertisement for an affordable farm on the outskirts of town. This farm had fallen into disrepair, abandoned and forgotten by its previous owners, who had inherited the farm but chose to not take care of it. Despite its rundown state, a flicker of hope ignited within your heart. Your dream of owning a small farm to raise your future family may become a reality!

You call the owner’s of the property and they start asking for more money. This went from being an affordable farm to a pricey one! You decide to take a leap of faith and go for it. Packing your belongings immediately and setting out for the neglected farms of your dream. When you arrive, you see just how neglected the farm truly is. You find a weathered farmhouse, its paint peeling and windows cracked, surrounded by overgrown fields and rotten fences. But you see beauty hidden underneath it all.

You see a vision of what this farm could be. A fresh coat of paint, rescued animals, beautiful old oak trees flourishing, children riding their bikes and fishing in the pound. This is where you want your new life you begin.

Required Packs: For Gameplay: Cottage Living, Cats and Dogs, and a pack that allows yard sales. House is made with a bunch of packs but is mostly just all clutter! Main items are from the gameplay packs.

Rules: Aspiration must be country caretaker Start with $500 Place @simsyworld’s lot from the gallery called "Abandoned Farm" hashtag #reclaimedroots or #reclaimedrootslegacy Each generation must live on the family farm. This may call for an extension of the house, a second floor, or a basement. If your sim has more than one kid, they can move out. But the sim you decide to cary on the legacy must live on the farm. Your house has no wifi, so no computers or gaming consoles. A TV can be bought after you fix up the house. Your sim cannot have a job. Make money by yard sales or odd jobs. Your sim’s teenager sim’s can have a part-time job but they must still help out on the farm Wake up by 6:30am every day to take care of the animals (can take a nap after animals have been cared for) Cannot use “the hand of god” (selling in inventory) UNLESS there is more than 20 in a stack of crops. All other items must be sold during a yard sale. Have a yard sale at least once a week, every Sunday. If it is raining you can skip the yard sale. Sell anything you collect, baked goods, rocks, ect.

Generation One

Name the farm after your last name

Clean the house, buy a new mailbox, pick the weeds, and apply a fresh coat of paint to the house.

Find a stray cat to be your farm cat. This cat likes to live outdoors, so place a bed and food outside. If you get a full relationship with the cat, it can live indoors.

Buy 6 chickens and name each one.

Build a relationship with each animal before getting a new one

Enter a Finchwick Fair competition

Befriend the animals and complete the country caretaker Aspiration

Reach level 10 for Farming, Fishing, Cooking

Fall in love with a local farmer

Get married and have a ceremony on the farm

Have 1-2 children

When your first child is born, rescue a puppy that will become best friends with your child

When each sim ages up to a child, you must buy them a bike as a birthday present so your sim’s child can go on adventures.

Teach your children how to fish, cook, and garden

Generation Two

You grow up loving the farm and craving the taste of fresh produce. You watched your parents sell produce and baked goods every Sunday morning and thought it would be a great idea to go bigger! You decide to work towards your goal of making your name in town a staple by opening a store named after your family!

Have the Freelance Botanist Aspiration

Paint the house a new color since after all these years it needs a fresh coat.

Buy your family their first computer now that you have wifi

Reach level 10 for Cooking, Baking, Charisma

Find a stray dog to adopt into the family

Enter a Finchwick Fair competition

Fall in love, get married, and divorced. This relationship didn’t work out.

Own a bakery, store, or restaurant that focuses on the idea of selling food or produce that is fresh. You do not have to have yard sales after you build a store.

Become good friends with at least 20 sims outside of your household.

A local baby/child was dropped off at the fire station. You decide to adopt this sim to live on the family farm!

Build max relationship with your sim’s child.

Teach your sim’s child how to garden, cook, and fish.

Fall in love and get married

Have family dinner all together on Friday nights including your sim’s siblings who moved out

Generation Three

You were adopted into the most loving family. You fell more into the creative side of life. Always drawing, painting, doing arts and crafts. When you got older you fell in love with the relaxation of making floral arrangements.

Have the Painter Extraordinaire Aspiration

Reach level 10 for Floral Arrangements, Painting, Gardening

Make 3 masterpiece paintings

Befriend all the animals on the farm with max relationship

Inherit the family business and turn it into a floral arraignment store. You can also sell your paintings here.

Have 5 maxed relationship friends who you always hang out with

Enter a Finchwick Fair competition

Fall in love with 1 of the 5 friends.

Have family dinner’s on Friday nights and friend dinner’s on Monday night

Find a stray cat to adopt. This cat is obsessed with you and follows you to work at the floral arrangement store.

Marry your best friend and have a ceremony. Invite all of your friends and family

Have as many children as you feel is right.

Do homework with your sim’s children every night

Looking for a Discord server for simmers? Check out our 920+ member server called SimsyWorld! We host weekly challenges and giveaways if you're interested! Click HERE to join!

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lucysgraybird · 2 months

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Ooo maybe something with Billy x reader where he arrives at her home all beat up since he’s on the run and doesn’t wants to go anywhere else, so reader has to take care of the cuts on his face or something.

i love this so much anything billy hurt/comfort related makes me RAA!! i hope this is what you wanted. if its not literally send me another ask i will be so happy to write another version (later tho my laptop is about to die)

injured!billy x fem!reader

There is something about living in the middle of nowhere that makes you wary of knocks on your door at any time. In the middle of the night, the rapping has you grabbing your father’s shotgun off its hooks above the door and readying it as you slide the latch and swing the door open.

Perhaps a normal person would find what was stood on your doorstep unsavoury, but it was only relief that courses through your body at the silhouette of the infamous outlaw, Billy the Kid. It had been so long since you had heard from him, and you had tried to tamp down your anxieties by assuring yourself that you would’ve heard if he had been killed. It had worked about as well as tamping gunpowder: every time news arrived from town, your heart was off like a shot, worried it would be a tale of his capture or worse.

In the split second that you allow his presence to soothe you, he steps into one of the stripes of moonlight across your porch, and that momentary peace climbs back up your throat with bile on its tail. You barely manage to set your shotgun down properly before you’re reaching for his beaten-up face, turning it this way and that to inspect the damage.

“What happened, Billy? Who-”

One of his hands comes up and closes around your wrist: he doesn’t say anything, but it stills you long enough to see the exhaustion in his eyes, and you drop your hands.

“Come in, then,” you sigh, and use the hold he’s got on your wrist to lead him into your house. He settles at your kitchen table while you gather your meager medical supplies – little more than strips of cloth and strong alcohol, but it’ll have to do.

His face is bloody and bruised, and far too dirty for you to see the real injuries, so you start by taking a damp cloth to the caked-on dust.

“You’re on the run again,” you say. It should be a question, but isn’t.

“Trouble seems to find me,” Billy replies, voice raspy and tired. “Can’t escape it.”

“Maybe you should try a little harder.”

You don’t mean the vitriol that curls around your words – or you don’t mean to show it to him. Your anger is yours, and ought to stay that way. It isn’t his fault that life dealt him a rotten hand of cards, even if it means you don’t see him for months at a time and that you’re always afraid that you’ve lost him and will never get the closure of public mourning. A good country girl, daughter of the general store manager and set to take it over one day, would not love an outlaw enough to grieve him.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. His irises are bright under the grit and grime – windows to the soul.

“‘s not your fault,’’ you whisper.

Tears sting the back of your throat and you swallow them, unwilling to cry in front of him while he’s hurting for real. To his credit, he doesn’t say anything, even though you know he noticed. He lets you clean the cuts on his face and hands with minimal complaint, though there’s a unique sting to an antiseptic that will have even the most hardened criminals wincing. You bandage his knuckles and try not to lose it when he lifts your fingers to his lips for a soft kiss. The kerosene lamp is burning low.

“You’re going to have to leave again.”

The words trip out of your mouth. Once again, no matter how you wish it, this is not a question. You’ll be lucky if he’s here in the morning. As if sensing that it’s unnecessary, he gives the barest nod.

Something bold sparks in your chest. Maybe it’s the relief of seeing him again, maybe it’s the lingering adrenaline from the knock on the door, maybe it’s the way the moonlight is the brightest thing in the room.

Whatever it is, you say, “Take me with you.”

Before he can protest, you drop into the chair facing him and take his hands in (gentle) earnest.

“I can’t do this again. I can’t do the not knowing, I can’t do you showing up like this every couple of months. I wouldn’t be a dead weight; I can ride and shoot and cook, and maybe one day we can go somewhere far from here and make a real life for ourselves.”

“I can’t promise–”

“Even if we can’t, Billy, I want to be with you.”

He just stares at you in a confused, sleepy silence. It’s too much for him now, battered as he is, but you don’t care.

“You need someone to patch you up,” you plead. “I love you. Let me be there.”

A beat, and then two. You realize you haven’t thought about what you’re going to do if he says no; what will happen to your soul when you wake up alone tomorrow.

“It’ll be dangerous,” he says finally. “You’ll be an outlaw too.”

“That’s okay,” you say, even though it kind of isn’t. You’ll make it okay, though. For him.

“You shouldn’t give up everything for me, honey, I ain’t worth it.”

It breaks your heart, that he doesn’t know that he is everything, at least to you.

“I’m not giving up anything. I’d be getting something more.”

He sighs, realizing that he’s not going to break your resolve.

“Then we better get some rest, ‘cause we’re gonna have to leave at dawn.”

You try to hide the joy that unfurls through your arms and fingers at his capitulation. You know life will be different – that it will probably be harder – but it all pales in the light of getting to stay by his side, the closest to marriage the two of you will probably ever achieve. You can’t kiss him for fear of hurting his busted lip, but your fingertips fizz over his knee as a smile spreads across his face, and in the face of such solace and cheer, he can’t help but smile back.

#billy the kid #tom blyth #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid 2022 #billy the kid imagine #billy bonney #billy the kid fanfiction #billy the kid hc #tom blyth x reader #billy the kid smut #william h bonney x you #william h bonney x reader #william h bonney imagine #william h bonney #william h bonney fanfiction #billy the kid x you

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zoohouseart · 1 year

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An idea of how Ed Edd n Eddy's cast may appear as adults. I wrote a bio for each one too.

Ed: Married May Kanker right out of high school, had 26 kids all named after monster movies (all of which he's VERY protective of). Spends a simple life working on tree-lifting and mine digging, bathes in gravy every night. Misses Edd and Eddy a whole, whole lot. Unfortunately doesn't see them often, since they moved further into the city while he stayed in the cul-de-sac.

Edd (Double D): Cleaned his act, got the girl, gained a master's in science and engineering, became a teacher, and yet STILL isn't happy or widely respected. Has yet to fully address his long standing anxiety of taking off his hat. Cannot let himself catch a break as he stresses daily about getting the bills paid. Wishes there was more to life than this ever-revolving door of monotony.

Eddy: Flunked out of college. Works as an errand boy for the mayor of Peach Creek and "oversees productivity". Secretly continues to feed his compulsions to scam and gamble at any chance he can get. Spends his every evening dreaming of the day where HE's the mayor, and scheming up ideas he'll never enact (unless..). Often complains that jawbreakers aren't as big as they used to be.

Nazz: Lives a bohemian life, praying someday her time to shine will glisten once more as an "influencer" but works retail in the meantime. Mooches off her fiancée Edd and tries to make up for it in emotional (and erm, well, physical) support. Is struggling with the idea that she peaked in high school, but will never admit it. Mockingly called "Double Z" by Eddy, though she doesn't mind.

Kevin: Is the mayor of Peach Creek. Won this view through pure charisma and good word as the football king of Peach Creek High and general "best at everything", but is often these days fumbling the ball on keeping the streets safe and clean. Is now friends with Eddy, or at least he likes to think so. Is sad he didn't make it into pro league, and will sulk about it when noone's looking.

Sarah: Took up the job of being a shrink (specifically in anger management), and a general town do-gooder. She's often, even if obnoxiously, asking to help others. Has really turned her life around from her loudmouthed, vicious childhood and make up for her past cruelties.. but has mostly done so just to repress her unbridled rage bubbling inside. Whatever you do, don't bring up Jimmy in front of her.

Jimmy: Sarah and Jimmy were conjoined to the hip practically forever, until the day his braces came off. Once he did, he got the call from Hollywood for his incredible acting chops, and ditched his BFF without a second thought. People often tour Peach Creek to see his hometown, much to the chagrin of everyone there. Is a real piece of work these days and could use a nice ass whooping.

Rolf: Grew to be a mighty farmer, creating a titanic cattle industry. Used his profits to buy a massive chunk of Peach Creek and turn it into "New Yergosluvia", so his old country family could live nearby. There he resides as it's king, and frequently feuds with old friend Kevin. Wears Victor's pelt in honor of his life-long servitude to a son of a shepherd (Victor passed peacefully in his sleep).

Johnny 2x4: MIA. As the Eds became more accepted, Johnny became the new misfit. One day, tragedy suddenly struck Plank in senior year of high school, and Johnny was never seen again. There's urban legends of crudely drawn faces appearing on the trees around the old cul-de-sac they grew up in. Ed swears he's seen one tree move. But that's crazy Ed for you. …Right?

May Kanker: Spends her days mostly exhausted from having to take care of 26 children, and hardly ever leaves the house. When she's not trying to drown out the kids with a cranked up TV, she's spending every other hour gossiping about occurrences across the city with her sisters.. though there's not a lot of time between that and cleaning up shit smeared on the walls.

Marie Kanker: Was expelled from Peach Creek High School for stalking Edd and threatening harm on Nazz. She now spends her days as a forum rat on doxxing related message boards, betwixt a day job of driving a garbage truck, where she mostly rides around town spying on people and scribbling down their whereabouts. She too spends all remaining hours gossiping with her sisters.

Lee Kanker: Was mid-planning on going to college and had her life all figured out to be a part of law enforcement until she was unexpectedly locked up for "illegal wood burning". She swears she was framed but has no idea who could've done it. She's usually calling her sisters, but occasionally talks with Eddy. She's not interested in him anymore; they just like to shoot the shit sometimes.

#ed edd n eddy #cartoon network #fan art #cartoon #animation

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 26 days

Text

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 11: I Can't Think With You Yelling At Me!

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter eleven of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 6.2K

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing, Drinking, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC, Angst.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

A/N: This one takes a bit of a turn guys, but I promise I know what I'm doing. :) Maybe? Probably?

********************************************

Previously:

Suddenly your phone rings, shattering the still silence in your apartment. For a second you hope that it's Butcher returning your call, but when you answer, it's not Butcher.

"Hello?"

"I need you." The familiar voice says.

Shit.

*********************************************

Present Day

“Thank you so much for coming!” Rosemary says dragging you through the front door of her two-bedroom apartment. “The sitter cancelled and I’ve got 5 minutes to make it to the hospital.”

Her dark brown hair frizzes out of a messy bun at the back of her head waving as she emphasizes her point with rapid hand gestures. The dusting of freckles across her cheeks catches in the light from the open windows at the back of her apartment as she traverses through the minefield of toys and children's books sprawled over the bright blue couches, the pastel rug, and the coffee table in the spacious living room.

As heartbroken as you were, you never regretted the night you and Ben spent together, because that meant you wouldn't have had Rosemary and you didn't want to imagine a world without her in it. She was the only good that came from that night. A surprise, but a welcome one. The years that followed losing Ben should have been empty, filled with an endless wandering of the world from someone who couldn’t age and couldn’t die, but they weren’t. Ben might have broken your heart, but he gave you the greatest gift. Rosemary filled the hole in your life and you wouldn’t change a thing. Even if it always ended up like this.

Well, besides the whole Ben possibly being alive this whole time and being tortured in a foreign country.

Rosemary was another reason why you had gotten out of being a supe. You didn't want that life for her and you were afraid that Vought would take her away. She was a second generation supe from two of the first and two of the most powerful supes. So for the early years of her life you lived on the coast of Maine in a small town, making sure that Rosemary had as normal a life as she could, despite having superpowers. At first you thought that she was like Ben, she was strong, faster than the average person, and had enhanced senses, but then you realized that her powers were more like yours except Rosemary did not have to die to obtain the powers of another supe. Rosemary could replicate any ability from a supe that she touched for one day, something you both realized when she was two and started to move things telekinetically around the house after she grabbed on to your arm and wouldn't let go. Which may have been fun for her, but not for you. Chasing around a two year old that could suddenly levitate sharp objects and throw them anywhere she wished was far from your idea of a good time.

When you moved back to NYC 10 years ago, the last time you saw Legend, you decided to introduce Rosemary as your cousin whenever anyone asked, including Stan Edgar, who showed up to one of your art shows as soon as you reappeared in the city, prepared to find out if you were Indigo.

You examine your daughter’s flustered expression, the wrinkled black scrubs, and the frantic beat of her heart that thuds loudly in your ears. Rosemary looked more like Ben than you. They had the same eyes, the same dark brown hair that turned into liquid honey in the sunlight, but you were the same height and had the same nose, your father's nose to be exact. And although Rosemary should be 39, she looked barely older than 27.

But despite her resemblance to Ben, it didn’t pain you to see her. You liked to think that she was a reminder of the boy you used to know, the one that you held on to for so many years when things got hard and all you saw was Soldier Boy and not the boy you loved.

She was the only person who knew everything about you and everything about Ben. She was the only family you had left, well, except for-

“Aunty y/n!” A small pink blur leaps towards your face from the end of the couch, to latch onto your upper body like a monkey climbing a tree.

You catch your four year old granddaughter, Lou, with a smile, twirling her around in the air. Despite your relation, you made sure that Lou referred to you as aunt, as afraid as you were for exposing Rosemary to Vought, fear that they would take Lou away too haunted you at night. Rosemary also did not call you mom, except after Lou went to bed and only when she was upset.

You both figured that it was easier this way, at least until Lou was old enough to understand why you did things the way you did them.

Thankfully, Lou still hadn't presented any powers, which made you and Rosemary happy. It made finding a babysitter easier when you didn’t have to worry about a four year old picking up a couch and throwing it through a window.

Being with your family always made you feel better, despite everything that happened with yours, you always remembered what your father ingrained in you as a child- that the only real wealth in life was family.

Of course he also was the son of the man who owned more than half of the real-estate in Philadelphia and who personally invested with Andrew Carnegie and John D. Rockefeller, so he had room to make generalized statements like that.

When you first got the injection and refused to marry Howard it strained the relationship you had with your parents, well, mostly your mother. She hadn't taken it well, thought you were throwing your life away on Ben. Meanwhile your father and you continued to send letters back and forth until the day he died, despite your mother's want for him to cut ties with you. He was always supportive of what you were doing, wanted to know how Ben was, how you were, and would meet you for dinner occasionally in New York whenever he could. Ben would make an appearance every once in a while, but your mother never came, and it was always like a giant purple spotted elephant was sitting at the table beside you.

You wondered how much grief she gave your father whenever he went to see you. You had tried several times to send your mother letters, telling her of all the good you were doing, but she would send them back unopened. When your father died, you showed up to the funeral and she refused to let you sit on the pews reserved for family. Ben had come with you, and you practically had to drag him away when he started to yell back at her because he knew that despite you being all grown up, he knew that you weren’t strong enough to stand up to her.

"Hey Lou." You smile at your granddaughter. She too had Ben's brown hair, but her eyes were like yours that shone with excitement and happiness.

When Rosemary’s husband died just after Lou was born, you stepped in whenever you could to help her, that meant occasionally babysitting so Rosemary could go to work her overnight nursing shifts downtown in the emergency room.

"I missed you!" Lou hugs you around the neck. She's wearing a floral long sleeve shirt and a pair of pink overalls. Pink was her favorite color and you tried not to be reminded of the dresses your mother forced you to wear when you were younger.

"You saw me three days ago." You brush back the tangled mass of curls from her smiling face.

"Too long." Lou replies.

Rosemary breezes back into the room, toting a large bag over her shoulder. "Okay. I'm so sorry-"

"Don't apologize again!" You wave a hand. "Just go. We'll be okay."

"What are you going to do?" She roots through the bag, looking for some unseen object.

"Oh the usual. Watch Texas Chainsaw Massacre. I've heard great things about the remake-" You wanted to test if she was listening.

"Y/n!"

She passed.

"I'm kidding Rosie." You put your free hand on her shoulder, noticing the wear in her eyes and the dark circles that frame them. You try to remember if things were as hard for you when you were her age. Given that you had already been injected with Compound V and were living as a superhero you figured that they were.

Maybe when everything calms down we can all go for a long vacation somewhere.

"Okay." She sighs. Her eyes search your face for a second, brows pinching together. "Are you okay?"

You always thought her ability to read you was almost supernatural, but Rosemary wasn’t psychic.

"Um. It's been a rough few days." You shrug, adjusting your grip on Lou.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She looks worried.

"Yes. There are a few things we need to talk about. But when you get home. Go on. I can take care of the little gremlin for a few hours."

You didn't like it when she worried about you. Rosie had enough on her shoulders, she didn’t need the 90 plus years of baggage you dragged around everywhere. But what had happened over the past few days deserved a conversation. You were going to go to Russia to find out what happened to Ben and you weren't sure when you would come back or if you could. Going to Russia might mean exposing your identity, which meant you might have to cut and run. You also weren’t sure how much damage had been done after what happened with Countess. When you killed her, you had expected Vought or the police to show up at your door, but you thought that you covered your tracks pretty well. There wasn't a piece of her trailer left and no evidence to convict you, well, aside from the burned jacket in your apartment that you needed to get rid of. You were still hoping that you could salvage it, but it was doubtful.

Your thoughts drift to Rosemary and Lou. The thought of leaving them behind destroyed you, but if it meant keeping them safe from Vought, you knew that you'd have to do it. But you also wondered if you could leave them behind. They were all you had left.

"Okay. I love you." Rosie half-hugs you with her free hand.

"Love you too. Be careful."

"I love you mommy!" Lou crows as Rosemary kisses her on the head and walks out the front door.

"Alright, what do you want to do?" You ask Lou putting her down.

"PAINT!" She raises her hands over her head like a triumphant gladiator.

"I like where your head's at kid." You smile down at her. "Go get your kit, I'll meet you in the kitchen."

******************************************

When Rosemary gets home twelve hours later, Lou is asleep, but you sit up on the couch with your sketchbook.

Painting with Lou had been enough of a distraction from everything that happened the past few days and the memories of the past that kept rising at the back of your mind, but when she went to bed they started to rush back. The sketchbook had started as a way of escaping the thoughts of what you did to Countess and what she said about you and Ben, but the only thing that you could draw was him. His strong jaw, arching brow, bright green eyes, and mischievous smirk haunted you from the page in front of you.

You hadn't drawn him in over thirty years, hadn't seen him in forty, but you still remembered everything about him, his voice, his laugh, his smile… You had to actively shut off your brain to stop from thinking about him, but none of the usual tricks were working. All you could think about was what if he was alive out there and if the Russians had been torturing him all these years. He was alone.

Did he think that no one cared about him? That no one wanted him?

Yes you hated what he did to you, and as much as you wished that you didn't care, you did. And as much as he hurt you, the Ben you knew would have never left you to rot, he would have come for you and you knew that was what you needed to do for him. The problem now would be telling Rosemary.

Your daughter knew about him. You’d never held anything back when she asked you about her father, including the reason why you two "broke up." In hindsight it was probably not the greatest decision you'd made to tell her exactly what happened, but it was nice to have someone to confide in. And the two of you didn't keep secrets from one another.

"Hey." She whispers with a heavy sigh, collapsing onto the couch beside you. Rosemary drags here eyes around the apartment. "Did you clean?"

"Yeah. It was a bit messy." You smile, shutting the sketchpad so she can't see the page. "Plus I figured it would be nice to be able to sit on the couch without getting probed by one of Lou’s toys."

"Yeah. Don't think I need another little mermaid toy 'exploring' the secrets of the cave, if you know what I mean."

You laugh at her. "How was the shift?"

"Bleh."

"That good?"

"Mhmm." She leans her head against your bicep.

"You know I've been thinking," You put your arm around her shoulders. "Maybe we should all just get away for a few days. We haven't been to the coast in a while. And Lou loves the beach-"

"Don't you have that big show coming up next month?"

"Yeah, but I’ve been feeling a little bit uninspired. I'm thinking about postponing.”

She sits up to look at you, suspicious. "Alright, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong-"

Everything is wrong and I have no idea how to tell you what I need to.

“You have never once postponed a show before.” She raises an eyebrow. "And you’re the worst liar.”

"I’m not lying I am feeling a little bit uninspired.”

"Mom."

"Fine." But you still have no idea how to start the conversation.

How do I tell her that it’s possible her father has been alive this whole time and that he’s currently being held against his will in a Russian Lab? Why is this my life? What did I do to deserve this?

"Is this about Crimson Countess?" Rosemary asks, nudging her shoulder into yours.

"What?" Your head snaps up.

"Her death was on the news. I figured that hearing her name again would make you feel a little-" She moves her head back and forth trying to decide on the word. "Weird."

"It's partly that." You bite the inside of your cheek. "I'm going out of town for a few days-"

Oh and I killed Crimson Countess.

"Where?"

"I can't tell you?" Your face scrunches up as you say it.

"What?"

You sigh and rise from the couch, pacing in front of it. How do I explain this? How do I tell her?

"Why can't you tell me where you’re going? Is this another retreat for your art again? Like when you went camping?“ She almost sounds hopeful, as if that will make any of this okay.

Nothing is okay.

"A few days ago some men showed up at my apartment looking for me."

"Really? Why?"

"They wanted to know about Ben."

Rosie frowns at the mention of her father’s name. “Why? He's dead. And it's been what? 40 years?" She pulls one of the multicolored pillows into her lap, smoothing her finger over the stripes. The shift in her mood is obvious.

"I don't know. They introduced themselves as government agents and I told them the usual lie about Indigo being my mother and that she was dead. And told them a limited amount of information-"

"I still don't see why you have to leave for a few days?" She interrupts.

You press your lips into a tight line.

This is not going to end well.

Rosemary frowns. “What did you do?”

How can she read me so well? I'm her mother, I should be the one doing the reading!

"Alright, I'm going to say something and you can't freak out." Your hands are clasped in front of your chest tightly, trying to think of a way to tell her that you killed Countess.

"What?"

"Promise me."

"I promise."

"I killed her." You say it slowly, gauging her reaction.

"Who?"

"Crimson Countess. I lost control and I killed her."

"What?" Rosie rises from the couch so quickly you think she's flying. "You killed Crimson Countess?"

"Shhh. You're going to wake Lou. And what happened to the promise-" You look down the darkened hallway where your granddaughter is asleep in her room.

Because that's just what the situation needs, for Lou to find out I'm a murderer.

"Fuck the promise! Why were you even with her?" Rosemary asks you, her eyes are still wide.

"That's why it's complicated-"

"Uncomplicate it now." She puts her hands on her hips looking ridiculously like your mother.

"I went there because I started to think about how Ben died, and I realized that I never heard it from her. I heard it from Legend and from Stan Edgar and I wanted to-“

"So you killed her?"

"She said a lot of things that upset me, but she also told me that-" The words catch in the back of your throat. "That Ben might not be dead."

"He's what?" She shouts.

"Rosemary I'm serious you have to stop shouting. Your neighbors are going to call the cops and that's the last thing I want right now."

"Well obviously because you murdered someone and covered it up!"

"Please get off the high horse. She wasn’t a good person.” You snap before you can stop yourself.

Guess the guilt is gone. Honestly, what guilt?

"Fine." She closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath. "Go on."

"The Russian army took him. Which means that there's a possibility he's still alive and I need to know." You didn't expect her to understand why you needed to go. You just hoped that she would let you.

"Are you kidding? This guy did terrible things to you and to other people! He said horrible things to you and you're going to go help him? I say just leave him to rot!” Her green eyes flash around the room, familiar in a way that makes your heart ache.

Her harsh words hurt. Rosemary only knew what you’d told her about her father and although you tried to tell her about the way Ben was when he was younger as she got older Rosemary wanted to know why you and Ben had a fight. And you didn't like lying to her. Now you consider that maybe you should have.

Because what if he was alive? Would she want to meet him? Would he care enough to want to meet her or Lou? I mean I can cut him out of my life, but if Rosemary wants to know him I shouldn't stand in her way...

You and Ben weren't exactly careful that night, but you weren't sure if he just never cared about that kind of thing before. You weren't sure if he actually wanted kids, the one time you'd asked him and he'd said it "maybe" sounded nice to have some kids. You didn't know if that was a good standard to hold him to or not, given that he was drunk when he said it.

Then again, Ben was always drunk.

"I know that you can't understand this, but even though I hate him, I can't leave him. If the roles were reversed, if it was me, Ben wouldn't leave me. Even with everything he said.” Your chest tightens. "And it hurts me to think that he's been there since 1984 with those people doing God knows what to him."

Rosie sighs. "Mom, I know that you love him, but maybe it's better this way. He’s out of you life. You’re doing better than you were. You said it yourself you felt trapped when you were a supe-“

"He might not even be there. I just need to know what happened. And that means I have to leave for a little bit and I’m not sure when I’ll be able to come back.”

"Wait what do you mean? You'd come back. You'd go over there, find out and then come back right?" She looks confused.

You press your lips together. "There's a possibility that if I do this, it will expose me, and I’ve already evaded Vought once. I’m not sure I can do it again.”

"So, what? You're gonna go over there and throw away everything for a guy that shit all over your heart and threw you away? Really? You're going to throw Lou and me away for him?" She's gesturing wildly with her hands now, eyes flashing around the room and again you're reminded of Ben.

"I'm not throwing you away-"

It breaks your heart that she'd think that you'd do that, that you were willing to sacrifice them so easily.

Am I doing that?

"You're throwing away the life that you've built for yourself. You told me that you were more happy now that you'd been in the past. And now as soon as you hear about him you go right back? Just like how he made you leave your family-"

"He didn’t make me leave my family, it was my choice! I’m not throwing away the life that I have made and I'm not throwing away you or Lou. If you or Lou were taken, you better believe that I would fight for you, I wouldn't leave you to fend for yourselves for any amount of time. You are my family. And yes Ben is an asshole and I've hated him for the past forty years, but I can't leave him."

"I can't believe you're doing this." She pinches the bridge of her nose frustrated.

"I believed after all these years that the reason why Ben died was because I wasn't there. And Countess confirmed it."

"But he's not dead!"

"Maybe. But they made us fight so that I wouldn't be there. They wanted us to fight because they knew they wouldn't be able to stop me if they turned on him-" You try to reason with her, but you know she won’t listen.

She's just so damn stubborn. Just like someone else I know.

"That doesn't matter! That doesn't make what he did or said any less okay." Rosie snaps, before her gaze softens. “It doesn’t change anything. They may have caused you guys to fight, but Ben said those things to you. They didn’t make him say that or do that. He chose to. And I can’t believe that you’re going to forgive him-“

"I don't have to forgive him and I don’t want to. It’s not about forgiveness. I can't leave him. He might be able to turn his back on me, but I can’t stand back and ignore him if he needs help. Believe me I wish I could. I wish that after everything that happened I could walk away, but I can't. And I know you don't understand that but-" You try to take a step towards her, but she steps back.

"That's not what I don't understand. What I don't understand is you playing with the possibility of losing this for him." She gestures around the apartment. "Do we really mean that little to you that you drop everything for someone that used you and treated you like you meant nothing?"

"You both mean everything to me. Trust me when I say that, but the fact that those two men showed up at my apartment and everything that happened with Countess means that I'm already involved. They already made this about me. I don't know why they needed to know about him, and I want to know why.”

“I can’t believe this.” She stalks past you into the kitchen to get down a bottle of tequila from the top shelf above the stainless steel refrigerator where she locks it away from Lou.

“Rosemary you’re so young-“

“Don’t make this about age. You’re older than me and you should know better.” She angrily pours a shot of tequila before knocking it back.

You try not think that the answer to all of your problems might lie in the bottom of that bottle. Sobriety definitely wasn’t getting any easier, not after you killed Countess or the revelation that Ben was possibly still alive. And especially not now in this fight.

“When you finally told me about him, it was the first time I’d ever seen you break.” Rosemary isn’t looking at you, she's looking down at the floor. “You’ve always been this strong independent figure in my life. You never needed anyone’s help to raise me. You’re so strong and formidable, but then you told me what he did to you and I’ve never seen you look so small.”

The memories of what happened between you and Ben surge up again, but you beat them away with a stick. The last thing you wanted right now was to relive that in the middle of this fight.

She looks up, locking eyes with yours. “I don’t know why you would do this to yourself again, put yourself through that-”

“Because I still love him.” You mutter. As soon as you say it, you know it’s true. Ben did terrible things, said horrible things, but deep down you still loved the boy you grew up with. And maybe that was the problem, you imagined the boy you grew up being tortured and left to rot, and the thought broke you. “And I don’t know how to stop. Even after everything he did, we spent so many years together and the memory of them doesn't just vanish. I won’t be able to live with myself knowing that I could have helped him and I didn’t.”

Rosemary stands there halfway in the kitchen and the living room, the bottle hanging from her right hand. This time she drinks right from the bottle before answering. “If you really need to do this, then I'm going with you."

"No."

"Why not? I'm as powerful as you-"

"It's not about being powerful, I don't want this life for you, I've never wanted this life for you. I've worked so hard to keep you out of it-"

"But-"

"No. This is why I introduce you as my cousin, why you were homeschooled, why Lou is homeschooled, why Lou doesn't call me grandma, why you don't call me mom around other people. If Vought finds out about you or Lou, it won't matter. None of this will matter.”

"You don't know that." She says it softly.

"I do." You take her hand. "Rosemary, you are one of the strongest supes I've ever met and you're second generation. And Lou, we don't even know what her powers are, but I can guarantee that as soon as Vought finds out they will come for you both. There's a reason why I never told them what my real power was. I kept you both far from this and I don't want them to know."

"I don't want you to do this alone. What happens if you get taken over there?"

"What if you come with me and we both get taken? What about Lou then? What would happen to her? I don't want her to grow up without a family. Please. Just let me do this. It’ll probably take 2-3 days tops.”

Rosemary doesn’t look happy. “I don’t care how long it’s going to take. The only thing I care about is losing you.”

“They’re not going to take me-“

“Not just then.” She sighs. “I mean after. If you do have to cut and run-.” Rosemary shifts her eyes towards the hallway where Lou is asleep in her room before bringing them back to you. “I don’t care how complicated it is, we will go with you.”

“I won’t ask you to do that-“

“It’s what family does. It’s a sacrifice that I’m willing to make. I can always get another job, Lou can be homeschooled anywhere, and I don’t want Lou to live in a world where you’re not here. She needs her grandmother.”

Her words make tears prick in your eyes as you watch her determined stance. Rosemary and Lou were the only family you had left, the only two people that you cared about in the whole world. And maybe she was right, maybe you were throwing it all away for Ben. You hated yourself for wanting to help him, but you knew if the roles were reversed Ben would have come for you.

Well, the old Ben would have come to get me, maybe not Soldier Boy.

"You got another glass?" You ask with a sigh, looking at the bottle in her hand.

"You sure?" Rosemary raises an eyebrow.

"I'm gonna need it to get through the next few days. There's no way I can do any of this shit sober." You mutter following her into the kitchen.

Ten minutes later, you're both sitting at her kitchen table with a bottle of whiskey and a fresh bottle of tequila between you. The haze of alcohol is making you feel infinitely better given the past few days you've had.

The whiskey burns pleasantly as you take a drink from the bright green sippy cup in your hand. Rosemary hadn’t washed dishes so this was the best she had. You knew you probably looked ridiculous.

Rosemary eyes you. "I can't believe you're drinking."

"I really needed this." You snort. "Given the past few days I've had-"

"I also can't believe you killed her."

"She wasn't a good person." You frown remembering what Countess said to you. "Plus I never liked her even before everything that happened. I know that's not a god enough reason to kill someone, but I can't change that now." You run your fingers through your hair to push it back from your face, trying to lose yourself in the buzz, but Ben keeps flashing through your mind.

Damn it, he's invaded by subconscious again.

Another few minutes pass as Rosemary sits there taking a sip from the bottle in front of her. “Do you really miss him that much?”

You pause considering the question. “Yes and no. I miss the person he used to be, before all of this. I think that’s the problem. I’m holding on to the person I grew up with. That’s all I keep thinking. That boy I knew being tortured in that lab.”

“It’s why you stayed on Payback for so long?”

“Yeah.” You take another drag of whiskey frowning at the sippy cup. “Sometimes I’d get glimpses, shapes really and it would make me forget who he was as Soldier Boy and then when I woke up the next day, Soldier Boy was back and Ben was gone.”

There were always quiet moments when it was just the two of you, when you forgot who he became and all you saw was the boy you used to know. When the cameras weren't rolling, the team was gone, and Ben was crashing at your apartment, for some unknown reason. He would do that, continue to show up at your apartment like he had when you were kids. It never made sense to you, especially because he only slept in your room growing up to escape his father. You couldn't think of a reason why he slept at your apartment when you were adults.

Probably just didn't want to be alone.

“That’s why you slept with him?”

“Yes. That night all I saw was the old Ben. And then I woke up with Soldier Boy.” You bite the inside of your cheek as the memory of the morning that followed washes over your mind. You never understood why he ran to Countess, never understood how he could push you away after all the years you spent together. Why he lied and said that he didn't care, because he had to. After everything you’d been through Ben had to care. You remember what Countess said to you and your shoulders sink under the weight.

Or maybe he was just a better liar than I thought.

“Do you regret sleeping with him?”

You look up at your daughter. She really does look like Ben. She was strong, determined, stubborn, and the way she held herself was so confident. And even though she would have been one of the strongest supes she chose to be a nurse, chose to devote her life to helping people instead of the shock and awe of the superhero world. You were so proud of her. You wondered if Ben would be too.

“No.”

“Why? You say that you loved who he was and then he-"

“Because he gave me you. I wouldn’t change a thing. You and Lou are the only thing that matter to me. I know you hate it when I say this, but you’re so young, you have no idea what it’s like to live as long as I have without changing. And whenever it was just me and Soldier Boy I was so alone until Ben came back. I don’t think I would have lasted these years without you Rosemary, think I would have given in to Vought or maybe gone to the government-“

“Are you serious?” Her eyebrows pull together as a worried frown graces her lips. She knew what you were saying.

“Yeah. But I am happy. Happy for the first time in a long time. The problem now is dealing with everything over there.”

“How about I come with you and wait in a hotel-" Rosemary tries again.

“No. It has to be me. I have to go.”

She sighs. “I just hate the idea that you’re not going to come back.”

“I’m going to come back." You smile. "If you can remember I'm a supe too-"

“If they’ve been able to hold him all these years, that means they could take you too.”

“Don’t know if I should be scared or impressed.” You snort into the cup.

“It not funny.”

“Fine, if I’m not back in a week, then I give you permission to come. But I don’t think you’ll need to.”

"You're old and decrepit. Probably will need my help-"

"Low blow."

She smiles faintly.

You roll the glass in your hand for a moment, watching the amber liquid swirl against the green sides. "If he is alive, would you want to meet him?"

Rosemary takes a long pull of tequila, but doesn't answer for a long time. "When I was a kid, sometimes I'd imagine that he was still alive-"

"What?" You looked at her genuinely shocked. You hadn't realized that she ever thought about Ben.

"That he would walk up our long driveway at our house in Maine and we'd be a family. That was before you told me about that night." She runs one of her fingers down the label of the bottle frowning. "I don't know. After what he did to you, I don't know. Plus I’m almost forty years old, don’t really think I need a father now.”

This time you reach for the bottle of Whiskey, not bothering with the empty sippy cup. "Maybe I shouldn't have told you what he did. Should have let you fantasize about him, see the good-"

"I'm glad you did." She squeezes your hand. “And you didn't just show me the bad, you told me about the good times too."

"Maybe too much bad."

"I don't hate him. I'm mad at him for what he did to you, but I don't hate him."

"So it's a maybe?"

"I guess. I say that now, but I think my reaction if I do ever meet him will probably be the complete opposite. I’m also not sure if he should be around Lou.”

“Ben wouldn’t hurt her.” You press your lips together. "I don't think he would."

“Maybe not intentionally.”

"He's not a bad guy, well-" You take a sip from the bottle, remembering the fight. “He’s just complicated. I guess.”

And I'm still making excuses for him.

“Sounds like you’re going to forgive him.” Rosemary is frowning at you.

For someone who wants to maybe meet him, she’s acting like she still doesn’t want me to forgive him.

“Trust me, our story is over, finally. I’m just going to bust him out of wherever the hell he is and then I’ll never have to see him ever again.” You remember what you yelled at one another the night of the premiere and it strengthens your resolve. You didn't want to forgive him, you just wanted to get him the hell out of Russia and maybe slap him around a bit and then go home and finally move on with your life. Because you were slowly realizing you never did, you just packed it all away deep down and pretended to move on. "This isn't about forgiveness, it's so I can live with myself."

"I just don't think you should forgive him so easily."

"I don't want to and I'm not going to. He doesn't deserve that." You mutter that last part into the bottle, because it was true. Ben didn't deserve your forgiveness, hell, he didn't deserve you risking your life to find him, but you had to. His death left such a big hole in your life and you beat yourself up about it for years, you not being there for him when he needed you the most. But now, going to Russia, getting him back, meant that you could finally move on, that you could close the hole and finally be at peace.

Rosemary leans back in her chair with a sigh. “Promise me, you're going to come back."

"I promise. Not even Homelander can stop me." You smile at her. “Now I just got to figure out where Ben is.”

Easy. Yeah right.

***************************************************

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series let me know :)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303 @deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs @bughill126, @simplyfixated @sleepjam, @tiredstrangerr @freefallthoughts,@onlyangel-444 @lov3vivian @mxltifxnd0m @mayafatimakhan

#soldier boy x you #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy/ben #the boys amazon #the boys fanfic #jensen ackles #jackles #the boys #the boys season 3 #the boys series #the boys tv #soldier boy fic #the boys s3

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sidedished · 2 months

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stardew valley mods

hi! 👋🏻 listing down all the mods for my current sdv save, will do my best to update this list as i play!

✧ stardew valley 1.6 (with sve) ✧ mac mini (m1) ✧ updated 04.10.24

always double check the requirements before downloading mods! feel free to ask me questions, i'll do my best to help! 🫶🏻

📝 prerequisites

✧ smapi ✧ content patcher ✧ json assets ✧ spacecore ✧ alternative textures ✧ expanded preconditions utility ✧ farm type manager (for sve) ✧ mail framework mod (for life cycle)

🎮 gameplay

✧ dying grandpa intro retexture ✧ event expansion ✧ life cycle ✧ romantic love letters ✧ stardew valley expanded + grandpa's farm

👩🏻‍🌾 farmer & characters/npc a lot of my JA clothes don't work since the 1.6 update, so i may temporarily move to using FS until i get JA clothing to work in game. keeping these on the list regardless!

✧ alternate dusty portraits ✧ coii's girl sets ✧ cozy scarves (fs) ✧ customizable baby and children ✧ fashion sense ✧ gh's peach body type ✧ rural outfitters (fs) ✧ seasonal improved leo ✧ the coquette collection (fs) ✧ yomi's retro colored dress (fs) ✧ baechu's seasonal outfits + slightly cuter aesthetic seasonal outfits (i'm using a combination of baechu's and poltergeister's portraits and sprites so unfortunately i can't share an accurate link for this) ✧ baechu's seasonal outfits (sve) + slightly cuter aesthetic seasonal outfits for sve (same for this one!) ✧ beom mung's shirts & pants (beom mung has since changed their id, so i can't share an accurate link for this) ✧ delloti's daily pants set ✧ delloti's daily shirt set (ver. 2) ✧ delloti's hats set ✧ delloti's look ✧ the teddy edit

🐥 animals & livestock

✧ elle's cuter dogs ✧ elle's new barn animals ✧ elle's new coop animals ✧ elle's new horses ✧ elle's town animals

🏠 house interior/furniture

✧ aimon's fancy farmhouse ✧ aimon's tidy cozy ginger island farmhouse ✧ cozy farmhouse kitchen ✧ dustbeauty's industrial furniture (at) ✧ elle's kitchen replacement ✧ futan bear (at) ✧ greenhouse set (at) ✧ guxelbit's furniture (at) ✧ mi's and magimatica country furniture ✧ nano's retro style furniture (at) ✧ redesigned shed layout ✧ rustic country walls & floors ✧ seasonal open windows (at) ✧ suitcase record player ✧ tile kitchen & dining set ✧ too many swatches (lite) ✧ warm cozy fireplaces ✧ west elm furniture by atlas (at)

🌱 farming/craftable retextures

✧ chest deco (at) ✧ dshi food retexture ✧ fancy artifacts retexture ✧ fancy artisan goods retexture ✧ fancy crops & foraging retexture ✧ fancy fish & tackles retexture ✧ fancy trash & resources retexture ✧ firefly torch ✧ forest wood craftables (at) ✧ gwen's lamps ✧ nano's garden style craftables (at) ✧ nyangcarecrow ✧ terracotta garden pots ✧ wallet items retexture ✧ warp totems to magic book tomes

🧸 aesthetic/map

✧ daisyniko's earthy recolour ✧ daisyniko's recolor fix for sve ✧ dustbeauty's country town interior ✧ elle's seasonal buildings ✧ elle's town buildings ✧ ellie's seasonal paths & flooring ✧ interiors of pelican town ✧ molamole's seasonal mailbox (at) ✧ more grass ✧ seasonal special order board retexture ✧ simple foliage ✧ wildflower grass field

🎨 ui

✧ cozy accent interface ✧ custom menu background ✧ farmer 2.0 ESWF looks ✧ farmer portraits ✧ generic mod config menu ✧ script font

🌻 quality of life

✧ cjb cheats menu ✧ cjb item spawner ✧ cjb show item sell price ✧ lookup anything ✧ noclip mode ✧ npc map locations ✧ ui info suite

#sdv #stardew valley #stardew valley mods #stardew farmer #stardew valley farmer #sve #stardew valley aesthetic #stardew valley expanded #mod list

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obsolescent · 8 months

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Leon S. Kennedy Headcanons

Author’s Note: As you know, I write Leon in a certain way. Here’s headcanons that I have for him...I think about him a bit too much, I fear. My desire for Leon to be a country boy is the product of living in the south and also some projecting, lol. Some of these delve pretty deep and some of these are niche. If you want to share any headcanons that you have, please do. I love creating lore for characters that we know little about! Thank you to @roseglazedlens for reading over most of these for me! I’ll also be doing a NSFW version as well, the alphabet prompt.

Content warnings: Mature rating, no gendered language used for reader, nothing sexual but general discussion of Leon and his life so that involves alcohol, depression, suicidal thoughts, trauma.

NSFW Alphabet

Leon is more or less introverted from how he behaves in the games and movies, I was thinking probably INFJ-T for his personality type.

He’s bisexual. He likes whoever he can be comfortable and feel safe around, though with his hinted attractions, he prefers dark haired people.

There’s been speculation that Raccoon City is based around Springfield, Missouri, based on a few factors, so I tried to think of where he could be from. I was choosing based on my desire to have him connected to the south in some way while also not being too far from Springfield. We don’t know how far he traveled or how long it took him to get there during the events of RE2, unfortunately.

I thought of specifically around where Kentucky, Illinois, Missouri, and Tennessee meet. It would also be a convenient area for his family’s mentioned crime involvement.

Also why he doesn’t have much of an accent due to being near four different states. He is of Italian descent which is one of the canon things we know. KY, MO, and TN have a higher percentage of Italian Americans in the south from what I’ve researched.

If I had to choose a specific city, it would be Paducah, Kentucky. Definitely more of a small town kind of guy. It’s also around 5 hours from Springfield.

I don’t believe he went into the foster care system, though it’s not stated. But I like to think the police officer who saved him adopted him.

Also I feel like he’s autistic in some way, generally based on how he acts and carries himself in the games. (He’s just like me fr)

His favorite brand of cars is Jeep.

He’s definitely the type of Jeep owner to wave at every Jeep he passes by while driving.

We know he likes Ducati too, he drives a XDiavel in Vendetta and DI.

He can do minor repairs, on both cars and motorcycles. A bit of a mechanic in his spare time when he’s home from missions, helping some of the others when they have car troubles.

His love language is definitely acts of service.

Even platonically, if he overhears a friend having a bad day, he’ll stop and ask if they need help with their work, or get them their favorite snack.

Romantically, he’ll bring you flowers, drive by your pharmacy to check if you have anything that needs to be picked up, tidies up the house, cooks for you, prepares you lunch for work, gives you massages if you’ve had a tough day.

He’s not the best at cooking, but learns quickly, so if you give him tips on how to improve, he’ll apply them to the next time he makes something.

Pretty sure blue is his favorite color, we see him wearing it a lot.

There’s speculation on what he smells like, I think even some perfumes made for him? But personally, I don’t think he would wear typical masculine scents, something more alone the lines of citrus/clean/fresh. One I think he would wear is Nautica Blue by Nautica. It smells so good.

He has some religious background. With how Leon behaves/carries himself, it leads me to believe his family were a part of the Church of Christ, which would correlate with the location I chose.

Leon, to this day, follows the church’s principles: “In essentials, unity; in opinions, liberty; in all things, love.” It’s something he repeats often in his head.

He sings, having taken it up at church. After the incident with his family, he continued, as it reminded him of attending, and of his mother, how she would sing him to sleep. He likes to pop into random churches during times of service.

Not straying too far in, just near the exit to join in with singing and reminisce on his own memories.

With singing, he's a baritone.

His favorite song is We Shall Be Free by Garth Brooks.

He’s all over with his music taste, from alternative to country, divorced dad rock, pop, to gospel hymns. If it has a catchy tune, he’ll like it, not too picky with music.

To get into the sad bits, we know he liked to drink to cope, a functional alcoholic.

He would have trouble sleeping through the night, drinking helped.

Sees a therapist and isn’t the most truthful during meetings. Afraid to open up about everything that’s happened to him.

In RE6, you can see a document where Leon confesses he’s thought about suicide, as far back as RE2, so he’s struggled with depression.

Doesn’t do well with large crowds or gatherings. Stays on the outskirts of any event unless he has to go deeper into the throng for the sake of a mission.

Firm believer of his corny one liners:

*Gets bill* “What’s the damage?”

“You’re barking up the wrong tree.”

*Starts raining* “We needed this.”

Also looks out the window/stands on the porch when there’s a storm coming.

He keeps a memory box. It holds items he’s kept from each of his missions. It’s small things, like a key, a piece of paper, photos, a keychain. He looks in it every once in a while, so he doesn’t forget about what he’s done, who he’s helped, and those who didn’t make it.

Not the best with technology, basic knowledge of what he needs to do and how to get to things, but doesn’t use it much outside of work.

He has to ask you for help sometimes, thankful you’re more knowledgeable on the topic.

Will always tell you goodbye when he leaves for missions, no matter what method he has to use.

Face-to-face, video chat, or even going to your work. He just wants to see you one more time before departing, in case it could be the last time. Though it’s unsaid between you two, it’s in the air, tinging it with sadness and trepidation.

When he comes back, though, he immediately notifies you and wants to see you as soon as possible. He holds you a little tighter than he usually does for the first few days after returning from a mission.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon headcanons #leon kennedy headcanons #leon kennedy hc #leon kennedy imagine

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heesdreamer · 1 year

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SILENCED (4)

MASTERLIST

GENRE ➩ enhypen zombie apocalypse au!

SUMMARY ➩ navigating life 1 year post end of the world was already difficult as you avoided rotting corpses with hefty appetites and groups with various bad intentions. things get harder when you run into a group of survivors, 7 boys who make it impossible to run away.

WC ➩ 6k

WARNINGS ➩ death gore blood um zombies and everything the apocalypse brings…

AUTHORS NOTE ➩ Hello, me again lol Sorry it’s been so long since the last update on this I’ve had other stuff I was prioritizing but thank you to the people following and enjoying this story! The updates are a lot smaller than my usual works and that bugs me a bit but I have a lot planned and it won’t be such a long gap between each chapter from now on lol. Reminder to check out the playlist for hints and general vibe! NOT PROOFREAD but u knew that

“What are you even talking about dude, I beat you five to one easy. It wasn’t even close.” Jake’s voice was laughing out as he rested back on the couch, swinging an arm forward in emphasis towards his friend.

“No you don’t get it, if we had a rematch I’d whoop you.” Jay was quick to respond, a gloomy look on his face from losing so terribly and the younger boys broke into a fit of giggles at his attitude.

The day had been quiet, picking up each other from school one by one and heading back to Jake’s place. His mom had been out of town for the month on a business trip and it’d become their official club house for the time being, messier than it should’ve been with blankets covering any surface that could serve as a temporary bed.

Heeseung was pushing through the front door with a strange expression on his face, glancing behind in the hallway before locking the deadbolt and peaking out of the peephole. Sweat was coating his face and the other boys stopped laughing as they looked at him.

“It’s that bad out there now?” Jungwon was asking in a soft voice and Heeseung jumped a bit before glancing at him and giving him a solid nod.

News stations had been buzzing for weeks but nobody paid too close of attention outside of the people with particularly raging anxiety. Reports of cannibalisms, first in America and then the neighboring countries.

The boys hadn’t thought much of it, some crazy new drug that would never make it this far or mass hysteria. Then it was announced that it was a disease, something that couldn’t be helped and borders could not stop and things started to get a bit more wary. Some stores were shutting down, families leaving to their summer houses out in the country and yesterday Jay had been cut from work early.

“I don’t know, I don’t think we can wait anymore.” Heeseung was muttering and Jake sat up on the couch, raising an eyebrow in bewilderment.

“You mean like leave? Where would we even go?” He was asking and his question made them all fall silent, knowing he was right and they didn’t have a safe haven to disappear to like others did. They all had families but they weren’t extremely close now that they were older, spending most of their time together and only coming home to get scolded for poor grades.

Heeseung was shaking his head and turning towards them fully to scan the room, freezing up slightly when his head count came up one short. “Where’s Riki?”

“He.. had that exam I think. Must’ve had to stay late.” Sunoo was saying it slowly to try and explain but a feeling of dread settled over everybody at the realization he was out there alone, not yet realizing how quickly things were falling apart.

“Is it really that bad Heeseung?” Jay was asking in confusion, just yesterday they all were walking around casually outside of the few religious nut jobs screaming about the end of days.

Heeseung didn’t say anything for a long time, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to relay what he had saw or if he just wanted to let them think things were okay for a few minutes longer. He knew he had witnessed stuff that wasn’t going to be fixed anytime soon, stuff that would change how they lived from now on and he wasn’t sure he was ready to fully embrace that.

He was clearing his throat to speak but the words fell short and he made his way over to the kitchen counter instead, taking Jungwon’s moms keys and glancing at him for permission.

The younger boy looked confused but he gave him a small nod, eyes widening a touch when the oldest hesitated before going back into the kitchen and returning with the largest cooking knife available.

“Woah, you can’t go out there with that. You’ll get arrested dude.” Sunghoon was rushing out, suddenly paying attention and alert now as he sat up off the couch and raised his hands towards Heeseung.

“I don’t think there’s anybody left to arrest me.” He was spitting out but he wasn’t angry at his friends, just stricken with fear and anxiety at the thought of returning back outside but he couldn’t stand the idea of Riki being out there alone.

“Well I’ll come with you.” Jay was announcing and standing up, wiping off the chip crumbs from his sweater. Heeseung almost denied him and demanded he stayed here and kept the doors locked but he figured he might not be able to make it alone and Jay was definitely the most capable of the two of them, strong and sturdy despite his carefree personality.

“The rest of you need to stay put. I don’t care what you hear, or how long it takes for us to come back, you can’t open that door.” He was warning the group and they all paused in fearful hesitance before slowly nodding, the idea of not searching for their friends after a period of time leaving them unsettled.

The two eldest were making their way out of the apartment building, stopping at the entry door to push a vending machine in front of it. Jay looked confused when Heeseung asked him to do it but he followed suit anyways, not wanting to deny the orders considering the fear in his friends face.

Jungwon’s moms van was large and loud, rattling when you pressed too hard on the gas pedal and squealing every time it forced its large frame to a stop. They didn’t drive it often, outside of trips to the beach and going through drive thru’s, and Heeseung was grateful that the roads were uncharacteristically empty as he amateurly made his way through the city streets.

It was complete silent as they pulled up to their youngest friends school, both holding their breath as they leaned forward to see out of the driver side window and try to catch sight of any sign of life.

Heeseung’s heart was throbbing and he felt sick, almost too scared to go and find the boy in case he saw something he wasn’t able to ever forget, something he wouldn’t be able to move past. Jay’s hand was reaching forward to take his arm and he glanced at the other boy, seeing him give him a firm nod with a look of determination. Heeseung gave him a weary smile in return but it was the boost of strength he needed to open the door.

There was debris around the area from the days of mild chaos leading up to this and Jay bent down to grab a particularly long piece of metal, steadying it in front of him like a baseball bat as they got closer to the school doors.

They were unlocked and they quickly realized something was wrong judging by the papers scattered along the hallway, backpack’s abandoned in classrooms like they had to evacuate fast and Heeseung could smell something foul that caused his nose to turn up in disgust.

“Riki.” It was a yelled whisper echoing through the halls, carrying the noise all the way down the silent building until it was reaching the end and bouncing back towards them.

“Hyung? Is that you?” A scared voice was coming from the end of the hallway, shaky and muffled like he was hidden behind something and the two older boys let out a sigh of relief at the confirmation that he was at least okay enough to respond.

They were swift in their approach towards the room the voice had come from, forgetting to be cautious because of their relief and rush to get out of there but they quickly froze when a figure was coming out of one of the classrooms in the middle of the hallway.

Heeseung automatically recognized the signs of the creatures he had seen earlier, staring at the man who was staggering into the hall and turning towards them with his nose in the air. His eyes were yellow and vacant and he had dark liquid around his mouth, still moving his jaw like he was finishing a large meal. The man groaned loudly in their direction, bordering on a screech and the boys could do nothing but stare.

“What the fuck?” Jay was rushing out in an anxious tone, glancing over to his friend who was remaining still and watching it carefully. “Dude what’s wrong with him, what the fuck?”

“He’s got it.” Heeseung was stating matter of factly and Jay paled at the realization, shaking his head in disbelief and faltering backwards a few steps.

Heeseung was approaching the creature slowly and they both jumped when it reared its head and roared in agitation, sloppily approaching them and not faltering even when it almost slipped and crashed into the floor. They watched it approached speedily and when it got near they both circled around it’s back, confusing it momentarily but not long enough before it was attacking again.

The creature pinned Heeseung back against the wall, his hands flailing in front of him as he tried his hardest to shove it away with cries and groans of fear. It’s strength was double what a normal man’s would be and he was seconds from giving up when it was slumping to the ground.

Heeseung dropped off the wall and scrambled over to Jay who was panting with the piece of scrap metal in front of him, dripping thick syrupy blood now that he had smashed it into the figure.

They both watched in horror, attempting to catch their breath, as it begun to rise off the floor again. Shakily standing back to its full height and snarling again at them, seemingly angrier now.

“Oh you’ve gotta be shitting me.” Heeseung was panting out as he stared up at its cracked skull, half of its face sliding downwards and a bloodied mess from the force of Jay’s swing mixed with days of decay.

Both boys watched it as it started to approach again and then Jay was letting out a loud scream, taking a few steps forward and swinging the metal back down on its shoulder. They both froze in anticipation and then fear when the creature didn’t react to the hit at all.

“Oh what the fu-“ He was cut off as the creature swung at him and he dove out of the way with a grunt. “How do you kill this thing?”

“Why the fuck would I know?” Heeseung was screaming back in bewilderment, glancing around in confusion to try and find a way out of the situation but coming up with nothing as he turned back to keep his attention on the man who kept getting more and more unhinged the louder they avoided him and his gaping mouth.

The creature wasn’t getting winded whilst the boys were barely managing to swing their arms anymore, using this to its advantage and catching Jay off guard. Heeseung watched in horror as it pinned his friend to the hallway floor, listening to his screams of terror and gasp of air from under its heavy frame.

He didn’t think twice before he was rushing forward, and throwing the entirety of his weight into its body. He let out a guttural scream and pulled his arm back as far as it could go before driving the knife forward into its softened skull. Jay was, thankfully, getting the memo and rolling out of the way before the creature slammed onto the floor, now fully lifeless.

Both boys collapsed to the floor in fits of gasps and pants. Nobody spoke for a few minutes from shock and then Jay’s tired voice was ringing out. “Dude… you just totally saved my life.”

It was silent again for a few seconds before Heeseung was letting out a soft chuckle, launching the other into a fit of delirious laughter until they were both cracking up with the body in between them.

“Holy shit.” Both boys were pausing at the sound of Riki’s voice, a lot closer now as he pushed his way out of the classroom and was watching them from the end of the hallway. “You guys totally killed Mr. Kim.”

“And then what?” Your voice was completely enthralled as you spoke, leaning forward towards the campfire so your elbows were on your knees and you thought you saw Jake’s lips curl up from the corner of your eye.

“Well… we went back to get the others. We tried to get to family but..” Jay was trailing off but you nodded in understanding and he gave you a grateful look before sighing and continuing with his story. “Heeseung found a map in the pocket of a dead guy on the highway out of the city and he had circled the general area that you found us in, so we assumed it was safe.”

“And it was.” Jake was adding and it was some of his first words of the night, having remained mostly silent and to himself throughout your trip.

It had been two days since you left and you knew everybody was feeling unsettled by the fact you were heading back home now to the unknown. It was a mostly uneventful journey, not stopping much or sleeping more than a few hours with a shared determination to get there and back as soon as humanly possible.

You felt like the universe had cut you a break when you arrived to the veterinary hospital Jungwon had seen on the map, only encountering a handful of walkers and finding some medicine that should do the trick fairly quickly. But you knew the universe wasn’t kind nor was she fond of handing out breaks so your stomach clenched with the idea of what could be waiting for you back at the camp.

Sunghoon could’ve died from blood loss and infection and passed along the traumatizing act of putting him down before he turned, or he could’ve turned in the night and taken out a few of his brothers before anybody was awake enough to put a stop to it.

You knew the two boys with you were thinking similar things so you’d ask for a story to try and keep their minds off of it, listening to Jay carefully as he recounted the first time they’d killed a walker and how happy Riki was that it was his mean teacher that often stuck him in detention.

“Heeseung was our leader before he was ever our leader.” Jay was remarking as he finished his story, scooting down more into the dirt so his back was fully pressed against the rotted log he was resting on.

Jake hummed in agreement and you didn’t say anything, thinking about the statement and the conversation you’d had with the eldest boy about the weight of his responsibilities. You felt a longing for him suddenly, missing him and the others more than you thought you would and you could tell the two with you were thinking the same thing now that it was falling silent again.

You didn’t say anything as you were standing up to stomp out the fire, knowing it was already a risk to strike it up in the first place but especially to sleep with it roaring.

The three of you followed the same routine as the past two nights, stringing up cans in a circle around where you were sleeping so if anything, dead or alive, bumped into it you’d have some form of warning before it was coming down directly on top of you. You laid your head down in the pile of leaves and tried to ignore the sticks sitting uncomfortably under your shoulder blades, falling asleep to the sounds of the forest and the two boys breathing.

——

You’d been walking for a few hours before seeing anything familiar but your body was alert to the fact you were getting closer to the camp again, this time with a backpack full of supplies and a prayer in the back of your mind that things would be okay.

It didn’t take long for you to realize something was off about your surroundings, the woods unusually silent and resting like all the animals and trees were holding their breath. You raised your hand and folded it, a silent signal for the boys to stop walking and fall into a crouched position behind you.

Your eyes were hurriedly scanning over the forest floor and your heart sank when you noticed multiple pairs of tracks and footprints that wouldn’t have been from your group, having no reason to venture this far out. You waved Jake and Jay closer and they quickly shifted forward in their crouched position.

“Is it a hoard?” Jake was whispering to you when you pointed out the shoe prints in the mud, glancing at you with a worried expression. Jay’s eyes were dark with concern and his face was hard, glancing in the direction of the others and frowning.

“I don’t think so.” You were shaking your head and sighing softly as you trailed your finger around the indented mud to explain to them. “The steps are too direct and pointed, if it was walkers they’d be messy and all over the place.”

“So it’s people then.” Jay was saying matter of factly and you all feel into a heavy silence, knowing you had no choice but to continue on the path back home, regardless if there was anybody left waiting for you or not.

You didn’t bother wasting anytime, falling into fast and silent footsteps and you maneuvered your way through the woods, guns drawn and knives out of your holster in case any of the people were still around and surveilling the surrounding woods.

Jay caught sight of something long before you did and you were grateful for his hand that shot out to stop you from rushing right into the view of the man you could now see, pacing back and forth in the center of the little houses and keeping an eye out for anything out of place.

You lip curled up in a sneer but you weren’t exactly sure what to do. If it was up to you, you’d simply take him out from a distance but you didn’t know how many were inside with the boys and if any more were not here, not wanting to risk the safety of the others or the three of you by acting on impulse. Jake seemed to be thinking something similar considering he was tapping your shoulder to get your attention, indicating down to your knives after you looked at him.

You understood what he was implying but you stared at him for a few seconds to make sure he was certain, realizing you hadn’t yet discussed the groups morals when it came to the living.

His eyes were hard as he gave you a solid nod and he mouthed for Jay to have your back as you moved in silent towards the patrol. The man didn’t have time to react before you were behind him, listening to the sound of Jay whistle and bring his attention forward before you were wrapping your hand around his forehead and tilting his head back so his neck was fully exposed to you.

He let out a gurgled shout as you slid your knife across his throat, grunting softly under his weight as you tried to lower him to the ground as silently as possible.

You looked up at Jay after he was on the ground, watching him carefully as he gave you a small nod of acceptance and you sighed softly before returning it to him and waiting for Jake to come out of the woods and meet you. The three of you ducked against one of the houses, your backs pressed against the wood as you listened to try and get a guess of how many people were inside.

“I say we just kill him already.” It was a woman’s voice and she was speaking in a nasty rasp like she was a heavy smoker, your heart pounding at the sentence she spoke. “He’s half dead already, I’ll be pissed if he turns on us and takes a chunk out of my arm.”

You glanced at Jake after she was done speaking and he was already looking at you, both of you relieved to hear that she was talking about Sunghoon still being alive, immediately followed by the dread of what she was implying they should do.

“Touch him and you’ll have bigger problems than him turning.” Heeseung’s voice was speaking now and it was dropped to an octave you’d never heard it in before, cold and serious and he threatened her in a deadly tone.

You heard an annoyed scoff from a male voice before it was followed by the sound of low groans of pain that you made out to be Sunghoon’s, wincing slightly at the hurt in his cries.

“Do something then.” The males voice was speaking in a teasing manner and you heard Sunghoon groan again, likely being hit or kicked by somebody inside to prove a point towards the other boys helplessness. “Oh.. you can’t, that’s right. I forgot.”

There was more sounds after that but you couldn’t fully tell what they were, feeling sick and helpless where you were sitting until Jay was snapping his fingers and getting both of your attention back on him.

He was making signals with his hand and you swiftly understood that he was implying he wanted to rush inside and take them out before they had a chance to react or take any hostages, using the element of surprise to your advantage. Jake seemed more hesitant in the idea although you figured it was only the two of them inside the small house, seeing the car they had arrived it and doubting it could fit more than four people.

Your eyes wandered over to the body on the ground and you steadied your footing in the dirt before nodding softly to Jay and patting Jake on the back.

It went extremely fast, your mind on complete autopilot and devoid of any extreme emotion to help you get through the terrible act without hesitating or missing your shot. Jake was kicking the door open roughly and then stepping back to allow you and Jay to rush forward, relief rushing through you at the confirmation it was only two people and then followed by horror considering how easily you were able to sink your knife into the skull of the woman.

She’d barely had a second to process your arrival, eyes widening in fear and letting out a painful gasp of shock before her face was lifeless and she was crumbling to the floor.

You felt slightly sick that it had been so easy for you to kill two people in the span of minutes but you glanced up at the scared boys huddled around the house and you realized that you didn’t regret it, that you’d do it 100 times again if it was necessary.

Heeseung was tied to the radiator next to Sunghoon, clarifying the reason he hadn’t even able to stop their assault on the boy and you glanced at him to see him far paler and more lifeless than he had been when you’d seen him. He was still alive however and you were rushing to grab the supplies from your bag when you noticed the horror on the boys faces, eyes over your shoulder.

You froze up but before you could turn to see what they were seeing, a shot was ringing out close to your ear and you were completely disoriented for a few seconds.

It took awhile to process what had happened, turning your body in a panic to see a fourth man laying in the doorway of the house. His knife was still rattling against the floor from where he’d dropped it and you saw the exit wound coming out from the backside of his head. You spun back around and your heart crumbled when you saw who it was that had killed the man, saving your life by taking another’s.

Riki was holding the gun in shaky hands, barely able to keep it steady and his eyes were wide in shock and horror, keeping it pointed in your direction despite the threat being gone now.

“Riki.” You were saying softly, still frozen but raising your hands in surrender and taking a small step towards him. You didn’t necessarily think he would hurt you but he clearly wasn’t thinking straight and his fingers were still dangerously tight around the trigger. “Riki, it’s okay. You got him, he’s dead.”

His eyes shot to yours at the words and his face softened slightly, letting you approach and take the gun from his rigid hands.

He was dropping his shoulders in relief once the metal was out of his hands, shocking you by pulling you in for a tight hug that knocked the air out of your lungs. You returned it after a few seconds, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and squeezing him tightly with your eyes shut. You could hear the others moving around, untying Heeseung and greeting the others.

After Riki let you go and went to sit down in the corner and calm down, you quickly administered the medication into Sunghoon’s veins and sighed softly at the heavy breath he took at the feeling of it entering his system. You pushed his damp hair off his sweaty forehead and smiled softly at him even though he couldn’t see it, happy he had managed to fight for this long.

You were standing up again and immediately bumping into another frame, pausing until you realized it was Heeseung.

His hands were coming up to cup your face and you smiled at him in relief despite the cuts on his face and the noticeable black eye that you imagined had come from the struggle with the looters that had led to him being the only one tied up. “You gave them hell didn’t you.”

He laughed softly at your words and nodded his head, eyes gentle as he looked down at you and you felt your heart clench uncomfortably at both his expression and how much you had missed him.

You thought this about them all as the night continued on, telling them how your run had gone and listening to them laugh and tell funny stories that you didn’t fully understand but you still felt a lightness in your heart just from how excited they sounded about remembering the smallest details of things that had happened to them together in the old world.

Riki was still a but subdued after what had happened, not speaking much and staying in the corner as you all ate dinner and took sips from the liquor bottle the three of you had found on the trip. He seemed a bit out of it and your heart felt heavy after Jungwon had leaned in to whisper and explain to you that he had never killed somebody before.

You felt guilty that he had done something like that to save you, your own mistake for not assuming there was another person still outside or checking the tracks more carefully because you were too worried about them and too focus on getting inside as soon as possible. Your care was making you stupid and making you weak, leaving the youngest to lose a piece of himself to fix your mistake.

It was this that made up your mind for you, solidifying that you couldn’t stay here with them any longer or else things like this would keep happening. You’d have to continue to risk yourself for them and vice versa, you couldn’t take watching them hurt themselves in the name of saving you or each other and you knew now that they were always going to put the others and you over themselves individually.

You kept reminding yourself this as you silently packed your bag, waiting for the others to fall asleep and leave you on watch duty before you were preparing to slip out.

You’d stay in the woods outside the camp for the night and make sure nothing hurt them during your watch cycle and then you were going to disappear into the dark cover of the trees once the next person on the rotation woke up and found you missing. You left them all of the medication and food, taking nothing but your change of clothes and your knives.

The crickets were extra loud as you made your way outside, having carefully stepped over the sleeping boys and left a note with detailed instructions on which medications to give to Sunghoon and when. You included a small goodbye sentence just so they knew you hadn’t been taken and didn’t get hurt trying to find you, although you had a feeling they’d try anyways.

You were barely off the porch, your foot hitting the dirt softly and feeling the cold chill of the night when a voice behind you was causing you to jump and spin around.

“So that’s it then?” You whipped around with wide eyes but your face crumbled when you realized who it was, seeing Heeseung come out of the shadows with a hurt expression and hooded eyes. “You’re not even going to say goodbye?”

You froze as you looked at him, words falling short as your mouth open and closed in silence. He scoffed as he looked at you, turning his head away as his eyes teared up slightly but he shook his head in anger before taking a few steps in your direction with a raised accusatory finger.

“You’re just going to leave after all this?” He was spitting out at you and the tone of his voice, the disgust lacing his words, made your heart drop into your stomach with a crushing weight.

“I have to.” You replied back with desperation, your face curling up in anguish and you tried to get him to understand even slightly what your reasoning was. “Sunghoon almost died Heeseung, and Riki he… these things will keep happening.”

“He didn’t die.” He was almost yelling now and you flinched back at the volume of his voice, having half a mind to shush him softly and watching the way his face curled up in anger at the sound slipping through your lips. “He didn’t die Y/N, and you were the one who made sure of that. You care about us, I know you do.”

You didn’t know how to reply to that, not wanting to correct him especially when he wasn’t wrong.

You did care about them and it was making your skin crawl every time you found yourself smiling affectionately at one of their offhanded jokes or paying extra attention to their wounds and bruises. Even more so with the boy in front of you with the gentle way he touched you to make sure you weren’t injured, when his face was lit up by campfires or his determination to lead a group of boys through a world he himself didn’t understand.

“I can’t watch it happen.” Your voice was breaking and your shoulders sagged in upset, exhaustion wracking through you both emotionally and physically. “And it always happens, Hee.”

“It won’t happen this time.” He was taking more steps towards you and his hands were shakily coming up to hold your face, staring down at you with his own sense of determination to try and help you see his side of things. “Why didn’t you say bye to me?”

He was asking but you knew he already knew your answer and you tried to pull out of his touch to avoid answering, stopping when his thumb was gently rubbing your cheek and shaking his head to try and stop you.

“Because you wouldn’t be able to leave.” He was answering for you, filling in the blank and giving you a soft sad smile that made you break into a sob, your first time allowing yourself to cry for as long as you could remember. “Right? Tell me I’m right.”

You didn’t say anything but you didn’t need to, feeling him pull you in tightly against his chest as you fully let yourself feel the wave of your emotions, restricting them for so long in the name of survival and fighting to make it through the day.

Heeseung was keeping you in his embrace even when your legs were giving out and you were sinking to the floor in his arms, your hands hitting the dirt and feeling it mold between your fingers. You hooked your head over his shoulder and shut your eyes tight when your gaze fell on the body of the man you’d killed so easily earlier.

You let him hold you like that until your sobs were slowing down and the blood was drying in the grass.

You stayed like that far longer than you’d realized, sitting still and frozen until your cries slowed down and his blood had fully dried in the grass.

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