Gempearl posting..
There is something so intimate about the idea of life series Pearl having this urge to want to believe in Gem despite knowing how the outcome will be, despite knowing what will happen when they face their swords against each other on burning wood.
The way the grass singes to ash on their feet, the way their eyes flash that dangerous color..but they both understand what's at stake here, Gem knows now what her life has become. Pearl has seen this outcome too many times to want to wish for a miracle. She's not unhinged this time, she's not alone, but for some reason, this may be the loneliest she has ever felt.
But still, Pearl protects Gem. She holds her close at night, rough, scarred hands meet soft petal fingers, fingers that soon will look like Pearl's. She leaves a kiss on their intertwined hands and feels the soft breath of Gem's lungs rising up and down while she sleeps blissfully.
Their time is at its end, but their rosy cheeks and twinkling laughter is something they keep locked safe, in a butterfly box.
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Between the Lines 3
Warnings: non/dubcon, Lee is rude, customer service triggers. and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
Characters:Lee Bodecker
Part of the Bookstore AU
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.
There’s banging on the door. So loud it wakes you in your bed. You roll over, dizzy with grogginess, and stumble onto your feet. Zuzu, your sleepy calico, only lifts her head before dropping it back down. She doesn’t have energy for human concerns.
You follow the banging as it continues and come out to the main room of your apartment. Your neighbours aren’t exactly peaceful but you don’t expect such a rude awakening. You go to the door and peek through the peephole. You can see nothing as it’s covered from the other side.
The door shakes and a voice holler through, “police.”
You’re not sure you trust the disembodied declaration. You keep the chain hooked but turn the latch back. You lean into the door and inch it open. It’s pushed from the other side to the limit of the links.
“Hel…lo,” your greeting splits in two as the officer drags his hand away from the door. It’s the same man from the bookstore. The sheriff, he said.
“Good mornin’, ma’am,” he drawls with a coy smirk, “we got calls about a disturbance in the building. You hear anything?”
His question hangs between you. His eyes drift down to your crooked pajama shirt and the pajama pants clinging low to your hips. You cross your arms and sniff. You not his badge; Sheriff. L. Bodecker.
“I just woke up. Didn’t hear a thing,” you answer curtly.
“We’re just makin’ sure everyone’s safe,” he looks you in the eye and tilts his head, “ladies livin’ alone…”
“I’m fine,” you feel the way he pushes even more on the door. You almost fear he’ll pull the chain completely loose.
“Ya mind if I have a look around?” He asks.
You stare at him, unflinching. Something about this doesn’t seem coincidental. It’s as ominous as the words that dogged you since your tense meeting in the parking lot.
“Do you have a warrant?” You breathe.
He chuckles and pulls his arm back, shoving his foot into the small space between the door and frame, “now,” he rubs his ruddy cheek, “why would I need that if you’re not hidin’ anything?”
“Hiding? What? I just don’t think it’s necessary for you to come in. I told you, I haven’t heard a thing.”
“Mmm,” the noise rumbles up his throat, “just lookin’ out for ya. Wouldn’t want some creep hangin’ around.” He clucks and puts his hand on his hip, “rough neighbourhood.”
“Thank you for your concern, but I’m fine,” you insist.
He smirks again and gets closer. You keep your hand on the door but lean away, “I’m sure you can take care of yourself. You’re a smart girl and all.”
“Sir,” you eke out.
He laughs and taps the door with his knuckles. He pulls his foot out of the door and you nearly slam it with the release of tension. He backs up, pushing out his stomach as he eyes you from head to toe. You hide behind the barrier but it feels like he can see everything.
“You stay safe,” he winks and turns lazily on his heel.
You snap the door shut and quickly turn the deadbolt. Your heart pumps wildly as you cling to the handle. You listen and hear his soles scuff down the hallway. You wonder how he found you but you guess it’s not that hard given his position.
🚓
The rest of the day holds little of note. No more surprises, even as you watch over your shoulder. Not just for the sheriff but your manager. Colin isn’t subtle as he circles like a hawk each time you’re with a customer.
You’re probably the most helpful employee left in the place. Ever since that older woman disappeared on sick leave, you seem to be the only employee without an addiction to TikTok. You can understand being distracted in a bookstore but definitely not by your phone.
You leave for the day and stop on your way home to get take out at the Lebanese shop at the corner of your street. They have a combo sale that costs you as much as a homemade meal. You’re feeling lazy and too agitated to deal with a hot stove.
You feed Zuzu after she serenades you shrilly. You eat with her pacing behind you on the couch, waiting for any scrap to pounce on as she forgets her kibble. You try to ignore her as you watch a documentary on Alexandre Dumas. You lose interest shortly after you finish your food and shut off the television.
You recline on the couch with your book, too stubborn to go to bed yet. You know you’ll fall asleep the minute your head touches the pillow. You lay against the armrest and ease into the collection of essays on the Victorian era and various strains of relationships; from friendship to marriage.
It’s not the most compelling to the non-academic but you find spurts of intrigue. You yawn and turn the page, the quiet coaxing you further into your fatigue. Your eyes turn itchy and the font begins to smear. You close the book and get up, leaving it under the lamp as you flick off the light.
You collapse into bed as Zuzu claims her spot by your feet. It doesn’t take much to fall asleep, the world slipping into blackness in a blink.
The sharp hiss brings you back to the world. You sit up, trying to shake away the cloudiness in your skull. You hear Zuzu jump onto the floor and scurry into the next room. Then a crash.
“What the he–” you murmur as you shove yourself to the edge, “Zu, what are you doing?”
You call out to the cat as you follow her into the front room. As you come out, the darkness is thicker than you expect. The curtains are drawn, blocking out the streetlights and the moon, but you don’t remember closing them.
Zuzu hiss again then lets out an angry yowl, her claws tearing into the rug as she rips around the room. Another clatter as you search through squinting eyelids. What is going on?
“Zu,” you think you see her dash across the floor. You bend over and lunge, trying to catch her, “Zu, chill–”
You feel something clasp around the back of your neck, stopping you in place as it holds you bent awkwardly over your knees. You extend your arms, fingertips on the floor as the thick fingertips pinch into your tendons. You whimper in horror.
“Ain’t no good for a girl like you to be livin’ on her own,” the sheriff’s voice rolls through the dark.
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