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#he's my only one who's actually gone on road trips with the grey company so it felt too weird to send the young lad hal
hallothere · 3 years
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@rohirric-hunter am i correct to understand that you have a grey company cosplay
can you like stop being the coolest person here for a minute save some for the rest of us
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kcarreras · 2 years
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I Wanna Be Yours
Fandom: Outer Banks Pairing: JJ Maybank & Kiara Carrera Summary: It’s been a week since the Pogues arrived back in Kildare, after almost a month stranded on the island. Separated from her friends and under house arrest from her parents, JJ and Kie are finally reunited and forced to confront the consequences their time on the island has had on their relationship... Notes: This one is for @soldatstylesmaybank for hyping me up in her tags - I hope you like it! ❤️
The Pogues had been back in Kildare County for a week now. 
Seven whole days since she’d last seen her friends - last seen him - on the dock after their ferry arrived back from the mainland.
Her parents had been waiting, and were on top of her almost instantly - hugging and smothering her as they led her to the back of her mom’s SUV without so much as a chance to say goodbye.
Since then, her parents had been monitoring her every move to the point she felt like she was under house arrest, and maybe she was.
She’d wake up in the mornings to her mom pulling open her curtains, sunlight flooding the room and rousing her from her sleep, pretending she was there to collect laundry... at 6am.
Her dad would check in with her at night before going to bed, pretending he was only stopping in to say goodnight, but really his motive was the same as her mom’s - he wanted to make sure she was still there.
Her homework was being dropped off at the house by her school guidance counsellor at the request of her parents, after they claimed she needed time to ‘adjust’ to being back. Really, they just didn’t want her having the opportunity to sneak off somewhere - or with someone - she shouldn’t be.
After five days of constant supervision and being on her best behaviour, she convinced them that she should at least be allowed to leave the house for work. Her dad finally agreed that she could cover some shifts at the Wreck, as long as he was there.
It wasn’t ideal, but she’d take what she could get at this point.
The next day was a quiet Sunday in late October, and with little tourists left in the area and the locals at home out of the way of the wind and rain that was rolling in from the coast, the Wreck was empty. 
It was a little after 7pm when her dad made the decision to close early and send the other staff home. Once the last of the servers had left, he flipped the “OPEN” sign that hung in the door to “CLOSED”, and they began to clear up. 
About 20 minutes later his cell rang, and it was Anna. Her tyre had blown out and she was stranded at the side of the road, a few miles out of town. Due to the weather, the roadside recovery company hadn’t been able to give her an estimated arrival time beyond “a few hours”, and so Mike said he’d go and pick her up. 
At first he wanted Kiara to come with him, but she made a strong case for the fact that there was no use in both of them sitting in the car doing nothing for the whole journey there and back, when she could be here cleaning and boarding up the restaurant in case the weather worsened. Her father’s resolve was a lot weaker than her mother’s, who would have dragged her along anyway, and so he agreed.
He gave her the same lecture he always did when she worked a closing shift - make sure all the stoves are off, double-check the storm shutters are latched properly and don’t forget to turn all the lights off. She even jangled her keys in front of him, promising to remember to lock the door on her way out, and that she’d head straight home when she was done. 
Her dad eventually left, and she locked the door behind him before heading into the cleaning closet to grab the mop and bucket.
Her dad had only been gone a few minutes when she heard the rap of knuckles against the door. Assuming he’d forgotten his keys or wallet, she huffed, dropping the mop back into the bucket - now full of hot water and citrus-scented floor cleaner - and headed to the door.
“I swear, Dad, you’d forget your own head if it wasn’t-“ she began, but as she rounded the corner, the air was knocked out of her lungs.
It was JJ. 
He was standing in front of the glass door, hands buried deep in his pockets, shoulders shrugged up to his ears and his hood pulled over his head as the rain hammered down on top of him, dripping from the ends of his blonde hair that stuck out from under his hood and clung to his forehead.
“Shit,” Kie breathed out under her breath, subconsciously running her hands across her apron, smoothing it out across her thighs.
When she didn’t move immediately, JJ raised an eyebrow at her.
“Is there a secret password or some shit I don’t know about?”
His voice was muffled through the door, but she could still hear the humour in it.
When she still didn’t move, he spoke again, a little more serious this time.
“Seriously, Kie? Let me in, I’m freezing my ass off out here.”
She wanted to roll her eyes at the exaggeration, but he was only wearing a pair of long, dark boardshorts that hung to his knees and a washed-out, grey t-shirt with a flimsy navy jacket lying open over top - all of which was clinging to him like a second skin from the rain.
Normally she’d give him stick for being so inappropriately dressed for the weather, but she herself was wearing a pair of light-wash denim shorts and a lemon-coloured vest top with thin spaghetti straps, so she really had no room to judge.
She took another breath, bracing herself as she made her way across the wooden floor, boards creaking beneath her sneakers with every step. She knew the noise would be echoing around the empty restaurant, loud and obnoxious, but she couldn’t hear it over the sound of blood rushing in her ears.
She turned the key that was still in the lock and the door all but blew open into her as JJ tumbled in out of the elements.
“Finally, what took so long?” He asked, pulling his hood down and shaking his head like a wet dog, rain spraying from his dishevelled blonde head.
“Wow, JJ. Really?” Kie complained, stepping back out of his vicinity and wiping splashes off the bare skin of her arms.
When he finally lifted his head to look at her, he smiled, and something inside of her chest cracked open, and she felt some of her previous apprehension leave her body.
“Long time, no see,” he drawled sarcastically.
“Yeah. I almost forgot what you looked like,” she replied back in a similar tone, throwing the clean rag she was holding at him with a grin, before turning away from him.
“Please,” he scoffed jokingly, dragging the cloth across his face as he dried himself off.
“As if you could ever forget this face.”
Yeah, as if, Kiara thought to herself, all too seriously. Outwardly, though, she responded by giving him the middle finger over her shoulder as she continued to make her way back to her cleaning supplies.
“I know you struggle with the cursive,” she called to him, disappearing from view into the cleaning closet, “but you can read the sign that says we’re closed, right?”
“Yeah, I managed that one, thanks. I appreciate the concern, though,” he replied, pulling a stool out from the counter and perching himself upon it as she rummaged around in the closet.
“Luckily for me, I’m not here for the shrimp and grits. Unless…” he chanced his luck, but she stuck her head out of the closet for a second to scowl at him as she replied.
“Not a chance. Everything’s already been cleaned, I’m not firing it all up again to make you free food.”
“Worth a try,” he said with a shrug.
“So if it’s not the free food you’re here for, what is it?” Kiara asked him, her voice sounding distant from inside the closet.
“You,” he said, and she froze, her arm extended above her head as she reached up for another clean cloth and some spray.
After a moment she emerged from the closet empty handed, standing a few feet from him.
“Jay, we talked about this-” she began delicately, but he interrupted.
“No, actually, Kie, you talked. I just had to sit there and listen.”
Kie’s mind jolted her back to the last conversation they had before the ferry docked on the day they came home.
***
They were sitting together on a bench out on the deck, her head resting on his shoulder and their hands clasped together as they stared out to the approaching shore, the announcement signalling their arrival playing out overhead.
“So what happens now?” JJ had asked, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.
“What do you mean?” Kie had questioned back, lifting her head to look at him.
“Between you and me. I mean, these last few weeks... I don’t know. I guess I just thought things might be different.”
Kie thought back to the last three weeks - the lingering stares, the subtle but deliberate touches, their desire to be around each other all the time becoming more and more obvious as the days had gone by.
She didn’t remember exactly when things changed between them, but she did remember that last night they spent on the beach once everyone else was asleep.
She remembered the sound of his hushed laugh as it faded from his lips, his eyes shifting from piercing and glittering, to dark and wanting, as they fell from hers down to her lips, and back again.
She remembered the heavy breath he took when she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, nervous but excited for what might happen next.
She remembered her breath catching in her throat when he turned at the waist to face her, his hand reaching up to brush a stray curl back from her eyes, before trailing it down her jaw to rest on the side of her neck, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of her neck as he leaned in.
Her eyes had fluttered closed, and she’d stopped breathing altogether when she felt his breath against her lips.
One of her hands had tugged on his t-shirt, the other pulling down on the back of his neck as she tried to close the minimal space left between them...
But then Pope had stumbled out from the shelter just a few meters along beach, cursing as he tripped over a piece of rogue driftwood in the dark, and they had sprung apart as though they were suddenly allergic to each other.
JJ had cleared his throat as Kiara combed her fingers through her hair, and they jumped to their feet as Pope asked them what they were still doing up.
They made their usual excuse about not being able to sleep, and Pope shrugged, still half asleep as he wandered off behind the tree line, informing them he was going to take a piss.
With the moment gone, they retreated in silence back under the cover of the shelter, unaware that the next time they’d be alone to discuss it, they would be getting ready to dock back in Kildare.
“JJ, I - I don’t really know what to say.”
“Well that’s easy, Kie. You just say how you feel.”
With the dock coming in to view, the sight of her mom and dad standing at the edge, she began to feel overwhelmed, as though she couldn’t distinguish one thought from another.
She knew things had changed between them, and she knew that her parents were going to be unsufferable - that she was probably going to get shipped straight back off the island to boarding school the first chance they got.
She panicked, at what that would mean for her and JJ, and she didn’t have enough time in the next 30 seconds to think it through.
“Kie, what’s wrong?” JJ asked as she abruptly pulled away from him and got to her feet.
“Nothing, I’m fine, it’s just...” she trailed off, and the look on his face as he stared up at her broke her heart in two.
“I think it’s best that we just keep things how they are between us.”
The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, and if she thought the look he had before was heartbreaking, it was nothing compared to this.
“Okay, but-” he began as his brow furrowed and his cheeks flushed, but she cut him off.
“Look, Jay, we’ve been friends for a long time, right? And these last few months have been crazy... and, y’know, being stranded on an island for three weeks? That shit can kinda fuck with your head. And so I just don’t know if we should let any of that change what we are to each other.”
She was rambling, and he was trying desperately to keep up, but the next minute the ferry shuddered as it made contact with the dock.
“Um, my parents are here. I should go,” Kie said, turning on her heels and practically running for the ramp.
“Kie! Wait a second,” he called, chasing after her, but other passengers on the ferry had begun to make their way in the same direction and a crowd formed between them. By the time JJ had pushed his way through, Kie was already disembarked and down on the dock.
“Kie!” he called after her, hands gripping the railing of the boat as she turned back to look at him. The rest of his friends, now also down on the dock, shouted for him to hurry his ass up, unaware of everything that had just unfolded.
Kie held his eyes for a second, before mouthing a silent, “I’m sorry,” and letting her parents lead her to the car.
***
He stood from the stool, and it screeched against the wooden floor as it slid back towards the counter, putting her nerves even more on edge.
“Look, I know your parents don’t want you to see me, or any of us for that matter. But, Kie, you can’t just ghost us, alright? No one’s heard from you since we got back.”
“That’s not true. You have.” Kiara argued weakly.
JJ scoffed, throwing his hands up.
“A text saying ‘Sorry, gotta dip for a bit,’ doesn’t count, Kie, and you know it.”
“That’s not all it said,” she replied, her voice even smaller now, her eyes dropping from his.
“No, you’re right,” he admitted with a humourless laugh, and it was the most annoyed she had ever heard JJ sound, at least towards her.
“It also said ‘I miss you’. What the fuck was that supposed to mean?” he asked, his blue eyes darkening and his cheeks flushing.
“Exactly what it said! I miss you, JJ. So much. I don’t wanna be apart from you. From any of you, but-” Kiara responded, her voice a little stronger now, almost a shout as her heart hammered in her chest.
“I don’t care about anyone else, Kiara,” he replied, and it was somewhere between a shout and a laugh. Kie flinched at the use of her full name, something he didn’t do very often and it made her uneasy.
It made her feel like they were fighting, which they were.
It made her feel like he was mad at her, which he had every right to be.
It made her feel as though they weren’t JJ and Kie anymore. 
Like they weren’t even friends.
And that made her want to cry. Which was ironic, because the whole reason they were in this situation in the first place was because during the three weeks they had spent stranded together - although probably some time before then, if she was being honest with herself - she realised that she didn’t want to be friends with JJ Maybank.
She wanted more.
“Jay,” she tried again, more softly, stepping toward him, but he pulled back.
“I can’t do this,” he said, and it was so quiet that she wasn’t sure he had actually said it.
“What do you mean? Can’t do what?” Kie pleaded, stepping forward again, taking hold of one of his hands in hers.
She tried to meet his gaze, but his blue eyes were darting around the room, desperately trying to look anywhere but at her.
“Jay, look at me, please,” she whispered, and a few seconds later he did.
“I can’t have this conversation with you if you’re not gonna be honest.”
“I’m trying, JJ. I am. But it’s complicated, okay? My parents said-”
“I don’t give a shit about what they have to say, Kie. This isn’t about them, or anyone else. How we feel about each other, that’s up to us. No one else is allowed to tell us shit about it.”
She dropped her eyes, which were clouded with tears that had yet to fall, and her gaze landed on their hands that were still intertwined.
As JJ slipped his hands from hers, her eyes darted up to his, scared he was pulling away from her. But then she felt his cool palms on her hot, flushed cheeks and her eyes fluttered shut for a second before looking back up at him.
“If you tell me right now that you wanna forget everything that’s happened over the last month…”
JJ took a deep breath, as if he was bracing himself for impact, before continuing.
“If you tell me that you wanna pretend that it never happened,” his voice trailed off, and her hands came up to grasp at his wrists as he continued to cradle her face.
“I’ll do that for you. If that’s what you want. But please don’t ask me to do it for anyone else.”
His head fell forward, eyes closed as his forehead came to rest against hers. Kie squeezed her eyes shut, and the tears finally fell.
JJ felt them trickle against his palms that were still pressed to her cheeks, and he opened his eyes, brushing them away with the gentle pads of his thumbs.
“Tell me what you want, Kie,” 
It was all but a whisper against her lips, which were inches from his as their foreheads remained pressed together, noses brushing.
Kiara’s eyes opened and met his, holding his gaze for a second before speaking.
“I wanna be with you,” she said, and before JJ could register what was happening, she pushed herself up onto her toes until her lips met his.
He was still against her for a second until the surprise wore off, and then his mouth was moving against hers. 
Her hands slid from their position around his wrists down his forearms, pulling gently until he dropped one hand to her waist and pulled her body flush to his.
Her mouth fell open when the front of his body collided against hers, and JJ’s tongue which had been running along her bottom lip made its way into her mouth with a groan. One of Kiara’s hands knotted itself in the damp material of his shirt in an attempt to pull him even closer, the other snaking its way through his hair and tugging gently.
JJ grinned against her mouth, and when she felt it, she pulled back slightly to do the same. JJ took advantage of the brief pause to not only catch his breath, but to reach round behind her and untie the apron that was still around her waist. As it came undone in his hand, he tossed it on the floor behind him. His lips came back to meet hers as his hands slid down her body appreciatively, coming to a stop just under her ass. His warm fingers and the cool metal of his rings pressed into the exposed skin beneath her shorts as he lifted her until her legs were wrapped around his waist.
He walked them forward a few steps, and Kie whined at the momentary loss of contact between their mouths as he set her down on the counter.
She tugged again at his t-shirt to bring him closer, and he gladly obliged, settling himself between her legs. He hooked his hands behind her knees and pulled until they were flush against each other again, and her thighs tightened their grip around him in response.
“Fuck, Kie,” JJ breathed against her neck as his mouth dropped from hers into the crook of her neck, desperate for air.
The words and the sensation of his breath against her skin sent a shiver down her spine, and he felt her arch her back in response as her chest pressed against his. A moment later, her head fell forward to rest on his shoulder, breathless.
JJ’s hands began to wander from where they had been running up and down the smooth, bare expanse of her thighs up to her waist, fingers tracing under the hem of her top that clung sinfully to her curves.
When she felt him hesitate, she lifted her head from where it was resting on his shoulder, her lips brushing his skin as she dragged them upwards across his jaw until they hovered over his again. She nodded, eyes burning into his before they fluttered closed again and her lips collided with his.
His hands pushed under her top, roaming the expanse of bare skin on her back. Kiara’s hands moved to push his jacket off his shoulders, pulling it down his arms until she heard it hit the floor with a soft thud.
The rain continued to hammer against the roof above them, and pelt off the glass windows surrounding them as the last of the sun disappeared below the horizon, casting pink and orange and purple shadows across them and the empty restaurant.
Kiara could feel the strong planes of his chest and stomach beneath the damp t-shirt that clung to him, and she wanted nothing more than to peel it from his skin and have it join his jacket on the floor.
Her hips rocked forward instinctively at the thought of it, and JJ groaned against her mouth as his fingers dug into the soft skin of her hips. 
Thunder rumbled in the distance, and a few seconds later a snap of lightning lit up the sky and they flinched, pulling apart slightly.
They were as close as they’d ever been, noses brushing, eyelashes tickling the others cheeks, lips brushing but not quite touching as they caught their breath.
“JJ,” Kie breathed, shifting so her mouth was now against the shell of his ear, and his skin prickled as he hummed in response. 
“I really don’t want this to end, but…” she trailed off with a sigh as her arms came up to drape across his strong shoulders, pulling him close as he straightened up.
“I know,” he whispered against the column of her throat, where her pulse was still hammering, before wrapping his arms around her waist in response.
They stayed like that for a minute or two, just holding each other close and taking in the moment - God knows when they’d be able to have another.
“I’m sorry,” Kie whispered into the silence, and she felt him smile against her neck before he spoke.
“Don’t be. That was further than I ever thought I’d get with you.”
“That’s not what I meant, dumbass,” she laughed against his ear before pulling back to slap him playfully on the shoulder. She let her arms slide down from where they had been wrapped around him until her palms rested flat on his chest.
JJ relaxed his hold on her too, hands coming to rest lazily against her waist as his thumbs traced circles into the bare skin between the waistband of her shorts and the hem of her top.
“I’m sorry that everything is so complicated.” She clarified, her soft, brown eyes gazing into his.
“Don’t worry about it, alright? We’ll figure it out,” he comforted with a gentle smile, pressing a kiss to her temple.
“So,” he said a few seconds later, followed by a cough to break the tension, “We’ve got some floors to mop, huh?”
Kiara tilted her head, a smile breaking out across her face and lighting up her features at the sight of him grinning back at her. 
JJ lifted her down from the counter, setting her on her feet before turning them around so he was nearest the counter and she was facing away from him.
“Better get to it, Cinderella,” he said, smacking her gently on the ass over her shorts, and she turned to shoot him a look of mock offense over her shoulder.
“Aren’t you gonna help?” she asked, nodding her head towards the cleaning closet that was still lying open.
“Sure. In a minute though,” he replied, still leaning back against the counter.
“What’s wrong with right now? I’m working under a time crunch now, thanks to you.” Kiara asked, turning to face him again with a drop of her hip as she crossed her arms over her chest, eyebrow raised at him.
“If you must know, thanks to you,” he began, repeating her own words back to her with emphasis, “I need a minute to… regroup, if you will, before I can move from this position.”
When Kiara continued to stare at him blankly, he dropped his gaze from hers down to the front of his shorts and back again, and Kiara threw a hand over her mouth to stifle her laugh.
“Right. Got it.” she replied, holding her hands up apologetically but still looking wildly amused. “Sorry about that.”
“Sure you are,” he drawled with a laugh as she moved over to where her apron and JJ’s jacket had landed on the floor, bending over to pick them.
“Not helping, Kie,” JJ groaned from over by the counter and she stood back up, turning to toss the item at him.
“My bad,” she said with a grin, re-tying her apron around her waist and picking up the mop.
A while later, when they had finished mopping the floors and had moved on to polishing glasses whilst Otis Redding played in the background on an old record player in the back office, Kie’s phone buzzed with a text from her mom letting her know they were on their way back.
***
Kiara cried as she said goodbye to JJ on the boardwalk outside of the restaurant, clinging to him as though she might never see him again because, with the way her parents had been acting, it was a real possibility.
JJ whispered comforting promises against her ear and pressed soft kisses into the now all too-familiar crook of her neck. He wiped away her tears and told her he’d see her soon, one way or another, before climbing onto his bike.
She looked on as he reached the end of the road, where he would turn left to go South and she would turn right to go North, and she had never realised it was possible to feel so close to someone and yet so far apart at the same time.
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argylemnwrites · 3 years
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Why Are We Still Waiting? - Chapter 3
Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)
Book: The Royal Romance (It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment universe)
Word Count: ~4900
Rating: PG-13 (brief language)
Summary: A trip to meet the newest Beaumont isn’t off to the greatest start.
Author’s Note: So, since it has been ages since I updated this story, I feel like a quick recap is in order. Drake and Riley are in Cordonia to meet Savannah and Bertrand’s new baby girl, Caroline. They just met Liam’s new girlfriend, Iris, and her innocent questions about their postponed wedding made it clear that Drake is very frustrated by the fact they aren’t married yet. To catch up/jog your memory fully on this series, you can check out the It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment masterlist (link in bio).
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“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Drake groaned as Riley reached forward to start scanning across the radio stations.
“What?” she asked. He noticed her give a tiny shrug out of the corner of his eye as she leaned back after settling on a Greek Top 40 station.
“I knew it. I swear you pick this one just to annoy me, Liu.” Drake had made the mistake of complaining about this particular station on one of their first trips back to Cordonia, right before she’d gone back to university. It was all over-produced and sugary, and the DJs were just fucking obnoxious. Of course, that last point probably didn’t actually bother Riley, since she couldn’t understand a word they said.
“Maybe I just like this station.” 
Drake glanced over and took in the giant shit-eating grin plastered across her face and just rolled his eyes. “Uh huh, sure. Let’s ignore the fact that this station plays a ton of songs in Greek.”
“I’m just trying to broaden my cultural horizons.”
“Says the woman who refused to watch Parasite because it has subtitles.’”
“If I wanted to read something, I would pick up a book,” she said, but she did lean forward again to flip over to a different station. 
“Thank you,” Drake said, clicking on the turn signal as he switched into the right lane.
“You make it too easy sometimes,” she said, Drake noticing that she shrugged a little out of the corner of his eye. “If you didn’t act like that station was pure torture, I probably wouldn’t enjoy it so much.”
All Drake could do was shake his head. “You know, some people might not be so open about liking something out of spite.”
“No, it’s not spite.” Drake glanced over and raised his eyebrows at that, so Riley elaborated. “Spite is mean-spirited. I know you like my teasing too much for it to be spite.”
“Really.” Drake deadpanned, although he wasn’t able to hold back his grin and fully play along.
“Uh huh. What other explanation is there for you hanging around me after all these years?”
“I can’t think of a single one,” he said, earning him a flick of her fingers against his shoulder.
“Well I guess I will have to keep teasing you then. Otherwise I might have to settle for a guy who would have made me get up before six this morning.”
Drake looked over at her at that. Even after years together, her ability to jump from intensely sarcastic to gently sincere in an instant still amazed him. Last night, Maxwell had called and offered to pick them up from the palace after dropping off Mom and Aunt Leona at the airport, but they had a very early departure time. Drake had turned him down, feeling like it would be a shitty move to force Riley to wake up early on vacation, particularly since she never complained about using her limited vacation days to visit his family. Yet here she was, appreciative of his gesture that cost him nothing.
“Maybe I just didn’t want to spend two hours in the car with Maxwell.”
She let out a laugh at that. “Well, at least I rank as better company in your book.”
“Always, Liu. Always.”
“Seriously though, thank you.”
“Of course.”
Her left hand settled on his shoulder and gave him a little squeeze at that, but she didn’t say anything else, just glanced out the window as Drake turned off the main road and onto the smaller one that led to the Beaumont’s estate. Within a few minutes, they were pulling onto the driveway. As they climbed out of the car, they heard an excited little voice calling from the direction of the estate’s entrance. 
“Uncle Drake!”
Drake closed the driver’s door and pivoted around quickly, crouching down and extending his arms. Bartie ran across the drive and threw his little arms around Drake’s neck, laughing as Drake scooped him up and hugged him tightly. 
“We saw your car diving! I wanted to go out. Say ‘hi’ like Mommy or Daddy. Uncle Maxwell said I had to stay inside. Had to stand still ‘til you stopped,” Bartie rambled off, barely taking time to take a breath. 
“Thought that a little toddler darting in front of the car might not be the best start to your visit,” added Maxwell, strolling over to their car. “Hey, little blossom,” he added as he hugged Riley.
“Oh, you don’t get to just ‘little blossom’ me after you convinced Liam to keep me away!” she chuckled as she gave him a playful shove. “What happened to me being a Beaumont and always welcome here?”
“He told you guys?” Maxwell asked, turning to glance at Drake.
“Of course he did!” Riley said, drawing Maxwell’s attention back to her. She laughed a bit and shook her head before walking around the car to Drake and Bartie. “Hey, Bartie! Wow, you’ve gotten so big!” Drake passed Bartie over to her, watching as she gave him a squeeze, but Bartie started squirming in her arms, clearly wanting to be released from the obligatory hugs.
Riley placed him down, and he turned right back to Drake, grabbing his hand and tugging on it. “Uncle Drake, come see my new playhouse!” he said, attempting to drag Drake along after him as he started moving back towards the estate.
“Hey, my favorite dude, do you remember why Aunt Riley and Uncle Drake are here?” Maxwell said, crouching in front of Bartie. 
Bartie kicked his foot against the driveway before he answered. “Everyone wants to see Caroline. But she’s boring. She doesn’t do anything!”
Drake was trying to figure out the best way to deal with his nephew’s clear jealousy, but Riley stepped forward and bent down next to Maxwell. “I would love to see your playhouse, Bartie.”
“What do you say?” added Maxwell. “Why don’t we show Aunt Riley while Uncle Drake goes to see your mom and dad and sister?”
Bartie was silent for a few moments, but then nodded, grabbing Riley and Maxwell’s hands and heading inside without a glance back. Maxwell chuckled, twisted around, and called out to Drake, “You remember where the nursery is, right?”
Drake nodded and raised a hand in acknowledgment, taking the time to pop the trunk and grab their luggage before venturing inside himself. He went straight upstairs, pausing only to place their bags in their usual room, before heading down the hall, turning to the left and entering the private quarters, making his way to the small room located all the way towards the end of the hallway, the last door on the right.
It seemed like just yesterday he was building a crib in there for Bartie when Savannah was moving in. The room looked much the same, the walls still a pale grey, the furniture all pure white. The layout hadn’t changed much, with the crib placed against the far wall beneath a painting of stars shining over a lake with a squid waving a tentacle in the air, the changing table right next to it, and the dresser next to the rocking chair in the corner. The only thing that looked different, as far as Drake could remember, was the sheet tucked around the crib mattress. Back when this had been Bartie’s room, the sheets were covered in a variety of zoo animals, the only splash of color in the otherwise greyscale nursery. Now, they were a black and white check, much more subdued.
Laying in the center of the crib, wrapped tightly in a light pink blanket, was a sleeping baby. Drake didn’t have a lot of experience with infants, but even he had heard you never wake a sleeping baby, so he stepped further into the room carefully, trying not to make a sound. When he reached the crib, he couldn’t help but stare. This was Caroline. His niece.
He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, just taking her in, but eventually Savannah’s voice caught his attention.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s a bit creepy to just sneak into someone’s home and watch their child sleep?”
Drake turned his head to look over his shoulder. His sister was standing in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest, an eyebrow cocked. “Hey, Sav. Maxwell sent me up here.”
“I should have known,” she said, walking over to join him by the crib, wrapping an arm around his waist as she gave him a half-hug. “I see you’ve met Caroline.”
“She’s beautiful,” Drake said, looking down again at the little baby in the crib, a few fine brown hairs covering her head. His niece. She was so tiny. It was kind of overwhelming, seeing her like this. When he’d met Bartie, it had been such a total shock that he even existed. Plus, he had been so much older than this. “Congratulations.”
“You can pick her up, you know.”
He shook his head. “I don’t want to disturb her.”
Savannah let out a few little chuckles. “She is the one who disturbs everyone most of the time. Besides, she’s just about due for a feeding.”
“I don’t know…”
“Come on, Drake. Just go wash your hands, and then you can hold her.”
And so a minute later, Drake found himself being handed his niece, so small and fragile-seeming. “Is this okay?” he asked, trying to make sure he walked the fine line between being gentle and holding her firmly as he tucked her against his chest.
“You aren’t going to hurt her!” Savannah laughed out.
“I just… I’ve never held a baby this little before. I don’t want to mess this up,” Drake said. Caroline felt so light in his arms. She was blinking, slowly becoming more alert after being shifted from her crib. Her bluish-grey eyes finally seemed to lock on his. “Hey, Caroline,” he said, “I’m your Uncle Drake.” But before he could think of anything else to say, she opened her mouth and let out a piercing wail.
Drake glanced over at Savannah. “What do I do?”
She laughed again. “God, what is Riley going to do with you when it’s your kid? She’s a baby, not an alien. She’s either hungry, sleepy, or has a dirty diaper.” But before she could poke fun at him any further, she reached over and shifted Caroline into her arms. “And since she’s hungry, I’m really the only one who can handle that.”
“Oh, do you want privacy or should I…”
Savannah shrugged. “I use a nursing blanket since Barthelemy walked in on me and made things real awkward.” And with that she settled onto the rocking chair, adjusting her top, positioning Caroline, then tugging a little cover over herself.
“What did Barthelemy do?” Drake asked as he moved to the side wall, leaning against it.
“Just acted real weird about the whole thing, talked to Bert about reminding me how a duchess should comport herself.”
“What a jackass.”
Savannah let out a sigh. “Bertrand was very apologetic when he relayed the message. But using a nursing blanket is not a big deal, and if it makes things easier for Bert with his dad…” She trailed off, staring down at Caroline, reaching under the nursing blanket to adjust something before she spoke again. “Having him around here has not exactly been some big happy family. I don’t know if his illness changed him, or if my memories of him were just fuzzy, but he’s an odd duck.”
Drake glanced over to the doorway. “Uhh, Sav. Not that I care, but the door is wide open and-”
She laughed and shook her head. “He’s at his rehab and physical therapy appointment this morning.”
“Ahh, gotcha. Any more talk of him trying to regain the title of duke?” Back when Barthelemy had returned to the estate, Sav had confided that it seemed like he was hinting that Bertrand should renounce his title and return it to his father. But since their wedding, it had seemed like most of that talk had died.
“No, he and Godfrey laid on the pressure after the honeymoon, but as soon as we announced the pregnancy, he backed off. His new mission seems to be to convince Liam that either Bartie or Caroline should be appointed as heir to the throne, which is crazy to think about, but it keeps him busy, so…” Savannah tilted her head to the side and raised her eyebrows, letting the thought just hang there in the room. 
Drake was bothered by the implications of that statement, but he knew that pressing Savannah on it would not really get him anywhere. As inappropriate and concerning as he found the implication that Savannah and Bertrand weren’t shutting Barthelemy down completely with that shit, he knew voicing his objections now would not solve anything. Discussing this all with Liam would make much more sense. So he just filed the statement away and moved to change the subject.
“Is it easier this time around, knowing what you are doing?”
Savannah smiled before glancing down at Caroline. “I think it’s more that I have a support system. And yes, I know it was my choice to not have one before,” she added before Drake could interject. “I guess in some ways at least I know what to expect, but Caroline is way more cranky than Bartie was at this age. Besides, I don’t think any parent ever really feels like they know what they are doing.”
“Nah, you seem to have it down.”
“It’s just a lot of trial and error. You’ll see when you guys have a baby.”
Drake ran his hand across his jaw, glancing down and watching his toes nudge into the baseboard. “I have a feeling that’s gonna be a while for us.”
“Oh come on! Don’t you want your kids to grow up with their cousins?”
Drake swallowed before taking a breath. “Of course I do.”
“Then what are you waiting for?”
“Well, getting married to start.” Shit. “Not that I think people have to be married to raise a kid or-”
“Relax, Drake,” Savannah said, cutting off his apologetic ramble. “It’s not like Bartie was a planned pregnancy.”
“Neither was Caroline,” he thought, but kept his mouth shut, not wanting to risk offending his sister or make her feel like he was judging her and her family. 
“I know you have an old-fashioned streak-”
“Hey!” Drake interjected, but Savannah just kept on going.
“-but I think you guys should think about having kids soon. You were going to be married by now anyway! And isn’t that the modern, New York thing to do?”
Drake didn’t know where all this was coming from. Why she was so insistent about something that didn’t involve her. But man, he wished she would move on to any other topic of conversation. Because what could he say? That he was ready to be married with kids? That he would have no problem starting a family with Riley tomorrow? He couldn’t share that with his sister, at least not without sharing things about Riley he was pretty confident she would never want Savannah to know.
The fact that she had decided on a birth control option that would last for three years made it pretty clear where her head was at with the whole kid thing. She wasn’t really ready, not by a long shot. And until she was ready, there was really nothing he could do about it. Drake was just going to have to wait until she felt like the time was right, whenever that might be.
Maybe it was just that he was four years older than her. Maybe that’s why he felt so ready to take those next steps when she seemed so unbothered, so willing to just roll along. And to be fair, it’s not like they were ever going to be a couple like Hana and Catherine, who had timelines and life plans and five year goals. But deep down, Drake couldn’t help but wonder why Riley seemed so ambivalent about them getting married and starting a family. Was she unsure about something in their relationship, unsure about something with him?
It’s not that she didn’t want kids ever, as far as he knew. She’d mentioned wanting kids before. And they’d planned that first wedding without issue. But now it seemed like she was stuck. No rush to get married. Not thinking about having kids for years. And Drake didn’t know how to approach the whole topic without seeming like he was demanding things. Putting pressure on her. He was happy. They were happy. It was something his younger self would have never thought possible, and it should definitely be enough. But maybe he was selfish, because there were times where it just didn’t feel like enough.
Maybe it would be helpful to talk to someone about this, but that would feel like violating Riley’s trust. He knew Riley had her therapist she talked to, and he was sure their relationship was a topic of conversation there, but that was different. The therapist wasn’t someone who knew Drake, who was his friend or family. Anyone Drake would feel comfortable talking about this with knew Riley. Knew her well, quite frankly. 
So for now, he was just going to have to keep moving forward. Keep hoping that Riley would start to feel ready soon. And at the moment, that meant sidestepping his sister’s questions and prodding.
“Geez, Sav! We haven’t even been here for an hour, and you are laying it on really thick.”
“Sorry, sorry! I know it’s not my business! If it makes you feel better, it’s not just with you. Kiara also told me I needed to back off when I started asking her about when she and Oliver were going to have kids right after their wedding.”
“Wait, when did Kiara get married?”
“Oh, Drake! At least you have an excuse for not knowing all the news now that you live abroad.” she said, shaking her head. “They eloped maybe… four months ago?”
And then Savannah was off, filling Drake in on tons of gossip he didn’t give two shits about. But it made her happy, and it was a safe topic of conversation, so who was he to complain?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
Riley sat crossed legged on the floor in Bartie’s room at a little table, Maxwell seated across from her. Meanwhile, Bartie was hard at work at his toy kitchen set, organizing pieces of plastic food on plates. He wanted to show off and make “lunch” for them. Riley supposed that this was probably a common way for a three and a half year old to want to play, not that she had any such memories from her own childhood. What wasn’t common, she was sure, was the formal table setting Bartie had carefully placed in front of each of them, the perfectly pressed white apron he’d asked Maxwell to help him tie on, or the fact that he was arranging his plastic lettuce, eggs, and meat on actual china.
“Looks excellent, my favorite dude,” said Maxwell as Bartie carefully carried over several plates to the table. “What’s on the menu?”
“Steak tartare with a fresh greens salad,” he said before turning and heading back towards his little kitchen.
“Wait, aren’t you going to join us?” asked Riley, trying to keep from bursting out in laughter at the thought of a preschooler preparing such a meal.
“Aunt Riley, no aprons at the table!” he said his eyes wide as he turned back to face her.
“Yeah, come on Aunt Riley, where are your manners?” Maxwell winked before twisting to look over at Bartie. “You need any help untying your apron there?”
“No, I can do it,” Bartie ground out, tugging on the ties without much luck.
“Okay, well I’m right here if you do need help,” Maxwell responded. Within five seconds, Bartie was back, standing right next to him.
“Thanks, Uncle Maxwell!” he said, happily pulling the apron off and jogging over to hang it up nicely once Maxwell had it untied.
“You’re working hard to maintain your title as best uncle.” Riley said.
“Every time you guys come to visit, he suddenly wants to go fishing and camping instead of having dance parties with me.”
Riley laughed at that. “We’re new and exciting, what can I say.”
“Easy for you to say, you’re the favorite aunt by default.”
“What does default mean?” asked Bartie, plopping down on the floor next to them.
“It means no other choices, dude.”
“Oh,” Bartie said, nodding before picking up his silverware, pretending to cut into the plastic in front of him with surprising coordination.
“So has Uncle Maxwell been hanging out with you a lot since your sister came home?”
Bartie shrugged. “I guess.”
“We’ve definitely been seeing some jealousy,” Maxwell said with a nod. “I kind of thought this might happen, so I made sure to clear my schedule for a handful of weeks around the due date.”
“That was thoughtful of you.”
Maxwell tilted his head to the side and smiled. “Hey, I’m favorite uncle for a reason.”
“Uncle Drake is my favorite,” said Bartie, causing Riley to burst out laughing.
“Dude, that wasn’t the deal! You’re gonna pay for this,” Maxwell said, leaning over and wiggling his fingers. “The squid’s about to attack.” With that, Maxwell started tickling Bartie, triggering wild giggles and Bartie rolling backwards on the floor.
“Bartie!” Bertrand’s voice cut across the room. Riley twisted over to find him standing in the hallway, his eyes scanning over the scene in front of him. “We don’t make our guests sit on the floor, do we?”
“No, Daddy.”
“Bertrand, it’s fine-” Riley started, but he held up a hand, cutting her off.
“What do we say, Bartie?”
“Sorry, Aunt Riley.”
All Riley could do was nod, accepting an apology from a toddler that felt entirely unnecessary.
“Good,” said Bertrand, “Now go wash your hands and get cleaned up for lunch.”
Bartie scampered out of the room, turning to his left in the hallway.
“I offered to play with him, Bertrand.”
“Well, he was told that you were coming to visit Caroline. He should have known better than to monopolize your time.”
Riley opened her mouth, ready to respond, but Maxwell grabbed her wrist and shook his head. 
“How are you, by the way? I apologize for not being there to greet you and Drake.”
“I’m good, Bertrand,” she said as she pushed herself up on her feet, walking over and giving him a loose hug. “Congrats, by the way.”
“Yes, thank you. Drake and Savannah have Caroline in the private lounge if you want to go meet her. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go check and make sure Bartie isn’t making a complete mess in the bathroom.”
And with that, Bertrand was off, following the path down the hallway that his son had just taken.
“Yikes,” said Riley as soon as he was out of earshot.
“Yeah, I know,” replied Maxwell, looping his arm around her shoulders and guiding her in the opposite direction. “That is another reason I made sure I didn’t have any need to be on set or in LA for any writers meetings for a few months.”
“He’s more of a tight ass than ever.”
“I think he’s very anxious because he missed this part of Bartie’s life. The amount of research he did and the number of parenting books he read is insane. But any time any little thing isn’t what he expects, he flips out.”
“What does Savannah think about that?” Riley asked, following Maxwell down the stairs.
“Either she’s too sleep deprived to notice, or she’s just pretending not to see it. I decided to give him two months to settle into things. If he’s still snapping at everyone then, well… I guess I’ll have to stage an intervention or something.”
“Wow. Well at least you’re here to look out for the kid.”
“Yup, figure I can keep things normal-ish for him. Though I will say between watching Bertrand spiral and hearing Caroline’s shrieks, any faint consideration I might have given to parenthood has gone straight out the window.”
Riley laughed, prompting Maxwell to keep going. “I’m serious! I know I told you I was pretty sure I was good being the fun uncle, but these past few weeks have really locked in that decision. Don’t tell anyone I told you this, but Bartie is right - Caroline is boring. And loud. And I am so glad she is not my responsibility.”
All Riley could do was laugh more. “Do you need me to make up an excuse for you so you don’t need to be in the same room with her?”
Maxwell nudged her with his shoulder. “Oh, laugh it up! I don’t have any issues with her. She just confirmed that fatherhood is not for me, no matter how cute she is when she isn’t screaming her head off.”
At that point, they entered the lounge, so Riley dropped any further teasing she had for Maxwell. “Hey, Savannah. Congrats!” she said, walking across the room and giving her a hug.
“Thank you, Riley. It’s so good to see you!” Savannah replied as they pulled apart. Riley moved to sit down next to Drake on the couch, who was cradling a baby against his shoulder.
“This must be Caroline,” she said, watching as Drake tapped his hand against her back lightly.
“Either that or I have a lot of explaining to do,” Drake said, glancing over at her. Riley just smiled and nudged him lightly with her elbow.
“Drake, why don’t you let Riley hold her?” Savannah asked. “She should get to meet her aunt, too.”
“Do you want to?” Drake asked, his eyebrows raised.
“Of course,” said Riley, reaching over and helping him peel the tiny little girl off his chest, nestling her into her own arms.
Caroline was awake, her eyes roving around as Riley shifted back onto the couch more fully to try and get comfortable. After a few seconds, they seemed to settle on Riley’s face. All she could really do was stare back, taking in this child, this baby girl who might not have been planned, but would certainly be loved by so many.
“Yeah, I know I’m a stranger right now. But in a couple of decades, I’ll be the one you come to when you want nightclub recommendations in New York City.”
“Hey, I want in on that invite,” said Maxwell as Savannah let out a few chuckles. Riley glanced over at Drake, expecting him to be rolling his eyes or shaking his head, but instead was caught off guard by the intensity of his gaze. He was staring at her holding Caroline with such passion, such longing, she felt almost exposed. All she could think to do was drop her eyes back to the baby, not wanting to dwell on what that meant at that moment.
Unfortunately, Savannah must have noticed Drake as well, because she said, “Oh, I see that look. ‘A while’ my ass. I bet you’ll be pregnant by the end of the year.”
Drake let out a sort of sputtering cough at his sister’s comment, but before he could say anything, could so much as get a word out, Riley felt her own mouth opening. Her own response spilled out so glibly, without a second of thought. It was almost like she heard someone else saying the words, even as she knew she was the one speaking.
“Don’t give him any ideas.”
She felt Drake stiffen beside her, saw Maxwell shifting in his seat, and heard Savannah mutter out a little apology, but all of that was just background noise as her brain screamed at her. How could she have been so fucking stupid? What possessed her to say that? Or at least to phrase it like that? There were ways to shut down Savannah’s prying without implying that Drake had baby fever and she wanted no part of it.
The uncomfortable silence in the room was broken as Bertrand and Bartie entered. “Lunch is ready in the dining room,” said Bertrand, gesturing to the door behind him. Bertrand then stepped over to Riley. “I can go put her down,” he said, gesturing at his daughter still in Riley’s arms.
“Oh, sure thing,” said Riley, passing him Caroline before standing up. Savannah, Maxwell, and Bartie had already left the room, but Drake was still seated, his eyes locked on his knee that was bouncing up and down.
“Drake, I-” she started as soon as Bertrand had stepped out, extending her hand to help him to his feet. But Drake ignored the gesture, pushing his hands into the cushions of the couch instead.
“I’m hungry. Let’s just go eat, Riley.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t-.”
“It’s fine, Riley, Really. We can talk later” He nodded at her and started walking towards the door, leaving Riley to follow after him. And more than the brush off, more than his refusal to hold her hand, the fact that he’d not called her ‘Liu’ let her know that she had made a huge fucking mess.
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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years
Note
for the meet ugly asks, 08 with the ot4 if that’s ok? (the note in the locker one, in case I have the wrong number). rating up to you! :)
Here you go! I went NSFW
Joseph is not missing his chance. Not again.
If he’s keeping count, which he’s certainly not, he’s missed fifty-two chances between fifth grade and now.
Barclay’s family moved next door in the summer of 1951, causing eleven year old Joseph to learn very quickly what it’s like to have someone whose side you never want to leave. Lucky for him, Barclay felt the same way; they were in the same boyscout troop, were each others first choice for sleep overs or outings where they were allowed to take one friend. When they hit high school, Barclay went out for football because Joseph did (and Joseph did because that’s what upstanding young men do). They played together all four years, Barclays growth spurt rendering him doubly dangerous on defense and the dominant source of Joseph’s late-night fantasies. Joseph did debate club alone, but Barclay joined him for chess club. And when Barclay bought his car, his first stop was to take Joseph cruising, just the two of them.
Unluckily, Joseph’s never worked up the nerve to tell Barclay how he feels. This may be why he hasn’t had a date since the spring hop two years ago, while Barclay’s had quite a few (cheerleaders and band boys alike can’t seem to resist his physique and general gentleness).
That all changes today. Joseph slipped a note into Barclays locker right before lunch that conveyed all relevant information.
Dear you,
Drive in on Friday? We can park in the back row.
Love,
Joseph.
He’s sitting in his normal spot on the bench near the cafeteria, doing his best impersonation of someone who’s heart isn’t in his throat.
As he’s scanning the crowd, none other than Duck Newton begins weaving his way over to him, leather jacket reflecting the sun and his black hair combed back as always. Joseph was wary of him for years--as any good square is of kids from the rough side of town--until they got paired together in biology their senior year. Duck, who seems not to give a shit about school the rest of the time, is incredibly good at science. And he’s funny, nearly got them both kept after class for cracking a joke that made Joseph lose his breath laughing.
The problem is, right now he’s waving a very familiar piece of paper.
“Gotta say, I’m pretty fuckin flattered, Joe. But, uh” he leans on the table, smiling playfully, “I gotta make sure ‘Drid is okay with me playin backseat bingo with someone who ain’t him.”
“Um.” Joseph shakes his head, trying not to focus on the idea of Duck holding his head in his lap in the dark corner of the drive in, “I, I’m so sorry. I must have been nervous enough to put the note in the wrong locker. Not, not that you’re not a catch.”
Duck raises his eyebrow, “1650 or 1652?”
“1652.”
“Huh. Well, I got shop class with Barclay. You want me to just give it to him?”
“No.” Joseph holds out his hand.
Duck places the letter in it with a shrug, “Suit yourself, slick. See you later.”
Joseph rips the letter to shreds, tosses it in the trash, and hopes that’s the end of this humiliating error.
It’s not.
“Hello, Joseph.” Indrid Cold rests a shoulder on the locker next to his. There’s no one in Kepler High quite like him; his family moved from California three years ago, which most people use as the explanation for Indrid’s red glasses, crystal necklace, and pale hair that is always a quarter-inch shy of the principal writing him up for it. He’s never struck Joseph as the kind to fight, but he did mistakenly proposition his boyfriend three hours ago.
“Indrid. How can I help you?”
The taller boy hands him a folded slip of notebook paper, “By taking me up on this invitation.”
Before Joseph can ask any questions, Indrid is disappearing down the hall. The paper contains a hand drawn map to an X, under which is the word “Bash” but nothing else. Joseph has never been invited to any kind of party that needed a secret map. He mostly just gets invited to get togethers because he’s the captain of the football team. No one talks to him once he’s there. Well, except Barclay.
He stares at the map; he doesn’t have to be home until ten. He’s never going to get a chance to make the scene like this again.
Joseph shuts his locker and hurries to his car.
------------------------------------------------------
Indrid’s remarkably accurate map leads him to a dirt parking lot beneath the sign for Amnesty Point. As he follows the signs for the “beach house,” a Coaster’s song drifts through the air, underscored by splashes from the lake to his right. He’s deep in the woods on the wrong side of the tracks, but even so he’s unprepared for how everyone lounging around the weathered picnic tables on a shaded patio stops talking and stares at him.
“Who the fuck invited the square?” Someone whispers, making him wish he hadn’t left the map in the car.
“Joseph?”
He turns so fast the gravel flies. Barclay, clad in a grease-stained apron, is smiling so bright it evaporates his nervousness.
“Hi, big guy.”
His friend hoists him in a hug, “I’m so glad you’re here, Indrid said he invited you but I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
“He piqued my curiosity. Um, is this the new job you were so cagey about?”
“Yep. Mama--she runs this place--pays real well, but tries to keep Amnesty Point kinda secret. Cops just love busting places like this up for no reason.”
Joseph nods, still a little hurt Barclay didn’t trust him enough to share where he worked. His friend must notice the dip in his smile before he hides it, because he adds, “It’s gonna be even better working here now that you know where to find me. Listen, um, I gotta get back before Jake sets something on fire, but the burger stand closes at eight. I’ll come find you after that. Duck and Indrid are down by the dock, if you want company.”
He absolutely does, since the alternative is looking even more out of place by being the only person here alone.
When he hits the grey sand, Duck is just pulling himself back onto dry land. The half moon scars on his chest are the only reminders of the trip he took to San Francisco last summer.
“Glad you showed up, slick. Day like this, the water is the only nice place to be.”
“I wish I’d known, I would have brought my swim shorts.” Maybe if he rolls up his pant legs he can get some relief from the heat…
“Could just go in your boxers. I won’t tell.” Duck winks.
“Nothing is also allowed.” Indrid lilts, floating past on his back.
Joseph looks at him, then at the planks of the dock because Indrid is also demonstrating that second option without a care.
Duck snickers, “sugar, put somethin on, you’re scandalizin’ the poor guy.”
“Very well. But I demand help with the sunblock in payment for quashing my self-expression this way.”
“You’re soundin like your pops there, ‘Drid.”
“....ugh, you’re right.” A splash and the soft fwup of a towel, “alright, Joseph, I’m decent.” He is, but his swim shorts leave very little to the imagination. Joseph stares a moment too long, notices Duck smirking when he looks away.
The greaser holds out a bottle of sunblock and they get to work.
“Goddamn, this wouldn’t take so long if you weren’t so fuckin long everywhere.”
“You’ve never complained about that before.” Indrid grins, red sunglasses hiding his eyes. He doesn’t lift a finger to help them, but Duck seems to get a kick from it. Joseph wonders if he spoils Indrid like this in everything they do. If Indrid ever does it back.
(If either of them would do it for him).
They spend the evening talking, Duck skipping stones and Indrid sunning himself while Joseph dangles his legs in the water. When they get back to the beach house Joseph receives fewer stares, Duck and Indrid’s company substituting for cool. He and Duck get a real dinner, but Indrid opts to down three Cokes in place of a meal.
When Barclay closes up shop, he’s immediately at Joseph’s side. Joseph is about to suggest they all go for a walk when Indrid winks at Barclay and steers Duck towards the trees with a promise to see Joseph at school tomorrow.
“You get on okay while I was working?” Barclay starts them on a path towards the edge of the point.
“I did. It was actually really nice just to spend time talking with people who like me. Or at least don’t hate me enough to shove me in the water fully clothed.”
“Nah, they’re not those kind of guys. Hell, it was their idea to invite you here. I was, uh, I was too shy.”
He stops, turning to face Barclay, “what do mean?”
“Duck told me about the note.”
“Oh lord.”
“Not on purpose, he just mentioned he’d seen you and when I asked how you were doing, well, you know he can’t lie for shit. So Indrid suggested we invite you out here.”
“Out of pity?”
“No.” Barclay frowns, sets his hands on Joseph’s shoulders, “Joseph, why didn’t you just ask me out in person?”
“I was too nervous. I thought it might ruin everything.”
“Not a chance, blue eyes.” Barclay rumbles. Then he’s kissing him, gentle and slow, whimpering when Joseph kisses back and cups his face. When they part, he’s certain there’s nothing but air under his feet.
“Can we do that again?”
“Not tonight. Your curfew is still ten.”
“Shit, you’re right, if I don’t get on the road I’ll be late.”
“Lemme walk you to your car. I gotta hang around since I’m Indrid and Duck’s ride home tonight.”
“Do you want to go get them so we can all leave together?”
Barclay chuckles, tips his head towards the woods where a faint, rhythmic grunting cane be heard.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, not gonna ruin their fun.” He pulls Joseph into a much more heated kiss, then sighs, “get home safe, blue eyes.”
---------------------------------------------------------
Joseph suffered through both the personal hygiene class at school and his father’s lecture on what to expect now that he was truly a man. But nothing in either of those taught him what to do if he’s so hot under the collar he can’t focus but the guy who’s causing it won’t just fuck him.
He and Barclay have gone out every Friday for the last month, steaming up the car windows with their kissing sessions. They tried to work out who was supposed to give who their varsity jacket and settled on just trading, Joseph smiling whenever he spots Barclays name on his back. And Barclay tells everyone Joseph is his boyfriend with a level of pride he never gave their state football wins.
But he won’t go all the way with him. One Sunday afternoon they were listening to records in Barclays room when the larger boy rolled across the rug to straddle Joseph. His hands were hot and a little rough on his cock, Joseph moaning into his mouth as he came in under a minute. Before he could reciprocate, the front door banged open, announcing the return of Barclay’s parents. His boyfriend told him not to worry about it and kissed him on the cheek.
He’s worried Barclay loves him but doesn’t want him. He’s worried that if he ever does, Joseph will embarrass himself, be so inexperienced and inelegant he’ll turn him off forever. He wonders if he can entice Barclay to ask him to fuck so he doesn’t have to admit the embarssing intensity of his desire.
“Duck? Do you, um, do you think I’d look better if I dressed like you?”
The greaser looks up from his notes, “Maybe? I mean, I dress like this because I dig it. You wanna try it, go wild.”
Joseph nods, intending to drop it. Instead, he slows his stride by Duck during their laps in gym.
“It’s just, I’m worried I’m too square for anyone to be really into me.”
“Joe, what the fuck is this about?”
“Newton, I heard that! That’s an extra lap.”
“Son of uh, hold on, are you worried about Barclay? Because he’s so into your goody-goody thing I’m surprised he ain’t asked you to fuck him with your report card.”
“Stern, you’re done, get off the track!”
He jogs to the bleachers, Duck’s words rattling around long after he’s hit the locker room.
“You’re really worried about this, ain’t you? You’re smart, slick, but I swear sometimes you can’t see what’s right in front of you.” Duck is behind him, still in his gym clothes while Joseph is half changed out of them. They’re both dawdling, the locker room empty save for some other stragglers near the bathroom.
“Duck, if I were in high demand, I’d be getting more, um, attention than I-”
His sentence is cut short by Duck yanking him down into a kiss, lips salty with sweat and so demanding Joseph wants to get on his knees.
Duck pulls back, pats his cheek, “Like I said; right in front of you.”
With that he waves and leaves the room the back way. Joseph can’t even be mad for cutting school; right now, he’s almost ready to follow him.
-------------------------------------------------
“I really must thank you again.” Indrid clears the low table of his math notes, “my focus is such that I struggle with math much more than I’d like. Having someone sit and walk me through it in a calm setting helps a great deal.”
“I’m always happy. Barclay can too, if you ever can’t get a hold of me.”
“Oh, I know he can. He helped me last year.” Indrid stretches his legs; they’re on the floor of his VW Westfalia. His parents let him live in it on the property behind their one-story house as long as he continues to be a cooperative member of the household.
“I didn’t know that.”
“It was only a few times, though he often lingered when we were through.” Indrid’s emphasis makes Joseph blush.
“Duck and I weren’t going steady yet. And my cocksucking skills are not the stuff of legend for nothing.” Indrid smiles, dreamily.
“Oh. Um.” Joseph shifts his notebook into his lap.
Indrid sits up straighter, “I apologize. I, ah, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“I’m not sure that’s what this is.”
Indrid cocks his head, “No? Envy perhaps? After all, you’ve had years to dream about him, to hope you’d be the first, and here comes a skinny little freak from the coast to beat you to it.”
“You’re not a freak” Joseph says softly, “I, I can’t say I blame Barclay for taking you up on it.”
“He does have excellent taste” Indrid looks pointedly over his glasses at him. The heat under his skin doubles as Indrid crawls forward, “you know, Duck and I have an...understanding. But if you and Barclay do not, I can stop. I mean, I can stop regardless, if you don’t want this.” He lowers to his belly between Joseph’s legs, nuzzles his fly with a hum.
“I, I--ohlord” He moans when Indrid mouths at his slacks; he’s getting hard, if he had his way he’d lay down and let Indrid suck him off until he came on his glasses. But he knows he won’t enjoy it if he isn’t sure how Barclay feels.
“I, we should stop. Please.”
Indrid sits up, smiling, “Of course. Would you like to stay for dinner? My mother is making fish stew instead of tofu salad for once.”
“...I’d love to.”
---------------------------------------------
“I didn’t know Amnesty owned all this.” Joseph let’s Barclay guide him through the trees.
“Yeah, Mama’s family bought it years ago and she’s hung onto it through some seriously nasty shit. Hah, there they are.” Barclay waves to Duck and Indrid, resting against each other on a massive, checkered blanket. His boyfriend sets the picnic basket down and then, confusingly, turns off the lantern Duck brought.
“Okay, baby, there’s something I’ve got to ask” Barclay looks at him, “do you think I don’t wanna make it with you?”
“Truthfully? Yes. You, you’ve barely gone beyond some heavy petting, meanwhile Indrid was offering to blow me.” He slaps a hand over his mouth; there go all three of these relationships.
Barclay shrugs, “He told me about that.”
“Honesty is important. Most of the time.” Indrid grins.
“Blue eyes, I’m crazy about you. I’ve just been going slow because I was afraid I’d stress you out. I know how you get, Joseph. You put so much pressure on yourself to do everything right, I was worried you’d try so hard to be perfect for me that you wouldn’t enjoy it at all.”
Joseph stares into deep brown eyes, eyes he’s loved since he was a boy. Then he laughs softly, rests his head on Barclay’s shoulder, “You really do know me well, you know that.”
“Oh, oh baby” Barclay holds him closer, “you really think there was a way of touching me that’d disappoint me? Fuck, just getting to kiss you makes me the happiest guy in the state.”
“That being said” Duck drawls, “aint there somethin about practice makin perfect?”
“I, are, is this really what you three want?”
“Yes” Indrid nods, “but if you don’t, well, we shall never speak of it again.”
“I do. Sweet fucking christ I do.” He kisses Barclay ferociously as the other two scoot closer.
“Hmm, I believe we should let seniority decide. Barclay, what’s your preference?”
His boyfriend pulls back, kissing his jaw, “Do you wanna blow me, blue eyes?”
“So badly.”
“That settles that. Duck, what about--ah, I see you’re already taking off your pants, so I guess you’re fucking hm. He’s fucking you? Ah, semantics.” Indrid waves his hand dismissively.
“Wait, does, do we have a rubber?”
Duck pulls one from his wallet, “never leave to see this one without one. I know how he is.”
Indrid pecks his cheek, then grins, “I believe, Joseph, that leaves me to help you with your hand jobs.”
“Fuck, yes.”
“On your back, baby.” Barclays nudges him and he falls onto the blanket. For a moment only the trees and stars look down on him; then Barclays face fills his vision as his hands open his fly and guide his cock out.
“AHshit, shit that’s good.” He bucks as his boyfriend jerks him off steadily, his cock standing at attention in a matter of seconds.
“Okay big fella, you go get your dick sucked.” Duck straddles him. He’s down to only his undershirt, his muscular thighs, soft belly, and strong arms on full displays as he rolls the condom down.
“You’re so handsome” Joseph sighs.
Duck seems to blush, “Thanks, slick. Not bad yourself.”
“I mean it, really, you’re incredible” he paws his legs, grabs his shirt and pulls him down into the kiss. Duck giggles into his mouth, then sinks down onto his cock. Joseph decides he is never, never letting go of the man above him; his weight is so comforting, his body so perfect, the way his laughs morph into moans so charming.
“G-great thing about this position” Duck gasps, “is you don’t gotta do much besides let me ride you. That’s why it’s ‘Drid’s favorite.”
“Second favorite; you on my face is my first. Speaking of which” he kneels, gently lifts Joseph’s head into his hands while Barclay sits cross-legged on the other side of his head. His cock is thick and long, so mouthwatering Joseph opens his mouth without being told.
“Fuck, baby, wanted this so long.” Barclay guides his cock between his lips when Indrid turns his head. The skinnier man keeps supporting him as his tongue registers skin, sweat, Barclay and he whines for more.
“Easy, blue eyes, fuck, you’re doing great.”
“I’ll say. Fuck, can’t believe you been keepin this dick all to yourself, Joe.”
“I got my haAAnds on it once.”
“Clearly you should have done it more” Indrid purrs, hips moving slightly, “as soon as someone plays with it, he sucks cock very nicely.”
“No fuckin kiddin. Baby, baby, yeah, suck like that.”
Indrid shifts behind him, “Barclay, hold him a moment, there’s been a change of plans.” A zipper goes as Barclay cradles him. Then Indrid’s fingers are back, turning him to face a second, narrower cock.
“Handjobs can wait.” Indrid pulls him forward, moaning high when he sucks the head, “oooh, yes, that’s it.”
“Fuck, I’m gonna fuckin combust watchin you do that.” Duck bounces more deliberately and Joseph yelps joyfully around Indrid’s cock. He’s already close to cumming, the feeling of Duck around him and Indrid inside him flooding the rest of him with pleasure.
Indrid pulls his head back, starts to turn him towards Barclays, when it punches through him. He moans, pushes up into Duck as the shorter man laughs.
“I, I came first, I’m sorry, this is one of the things-”
“Shush” Barclay helps him up as Duck climbs of him, “that was fucking incredible, and you’re not done yet.”
“On your knees, facing us. Unless, sweetheart, do you-”
Duck’s hand is already between his legs, “I’m gonna enjoy the show.”
“Mmm, which means I get to enjoy you enjoying it. Barclay, turn slightly, like this.”
“Why, oh, oh I got it, fuck, you’re a fucking genius.”
Joseph agrees, though he’s going a bit cross-eyed. So he closes them, lets first Indrid and then Barclay press their cock into his mouth. It’s a stretch, his jaw aching instantly, but it’s the best he’s ever felt. They can’t push more than the heads in, so he concentrates on sucking and licking, pre-cum collecting on his tongue and spit seeping down his chin. Duck grunts behind him, offering running commentary on Indrid’s appearance and Joseph's voice. Barclay shoves both hands into his hair while Indrid keeps one on his cock.
“Fuck, fuck, Joseph, baby, this is fucking aces, gonna paint your whole fucking stomach white.”
“Ahnnn, agreed” Indrid pants, “your mouth was made for this, ohyes, that’s it, mmm, this is even better, feeling your cock against mine dearest, oh, oh” Indrid cums, bitterness hitting his tongue, and when he tries to swallow he gasps and gags instead.
“Fuck” Barclay grunts and then another burst of cum fills his mouth. He gasps for air as they pull out, sending some down his chin. He wipes ineffectively at it with the back of his hand.
“Here” Duck, underwear back on, cleans his lips with a napkin.
“Th-thank you.”
“Of course.” Duck kisses him as Indrid flops on his belly and Barclay curls his arms around Joseph.
“Gotta say, blue eyes, don’t think you got anything to worry about when it comes to making it good for me. Or, uh, us.”
“No, I don’t think I do.” Joseph rests against him, then jolts up, “shit, what time is it?”
“Ten.”
“Shit!”
“Don’t worry” Indrid nestles next to his knees, “we’ll say I had car trouble and you two came to my aid.”
Joseph relaxes back among his boyfriends, “Good call. Just, um, don’t let Duck talk?”
“Only if I get an extra kiss for keepin my mouth shut.”
“Deal.”
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brilliantt · 4 years
Text
Gangster in Distress
Summary: Tommy was only interested in Y/N to seal a deal with her father. He thought she was a spoilt, rich girl... until a mishap with some thieves makes Tommy reconsider.  
A/N: I just rewatched the movie Ever After with Drew Barrymore and let’s just say it heavily inspired this fic....
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It was often that Tommy would sacrifice his own family to ensure a deal or stop a war. A key example being when he convinced John to marry Esme, preventing a battle with the Lee family. Tommy was rather good at pushing his family to the forefront of his problems. Now though? Now it was Tommy’s turn. 
Tommy desired to extend his gin business through London and beyond. The only issue being a Mr Walter Brown. Mr Brown ran an immensely successful distillery in the heart of London and Tommy knew striking a deal with him was his only route to a new found fortune. He had met with the man once at his home, the house exceeding even Tommy’s manor. They had spent a long time coming to a suitable deal. The man had no need for money nor protection, although Tommy tried to persuade him. It was a lost cause; the man’s fine suit and multiple men lingering by the door could have told him that. There was nothing the Peaky Blinders could offer him that he didn't already have, Tommy still persisted.
The meeting had lasted three hours before Tommy watched the man stand up and glance out the window behind him, the view obscured from Tommy. Mr Brown rubbed his white moustache and sighed, resting his gaze back on Tommy. He explained to him that he had a daughter who he wished to see married, and to a financially secure man. Of course Arthur and John were out of the question and Finn was too young for the woman. This left Tommy to take the bullet. It certainly felt like a bullet when the daughter had slammed the door, storming out of her father’s study just after she was told the news. Perhaps it would be for the best, he would have some company and Charlie a mother figure. Not forgetting their union would make Tommy very rich. 
The deal was settled and they would be married the next month, giving Y/N and Tommy some time to get to know each other. He made frequent trips to London to become acquainted with his bride-to-be, the two of them left alone in one of the parlour rooms. The first few times she had sat like a petulant child, ignoring his attempt at conversation, and not being afraid to tell him what she thought of the arrangement. Her expensive gowns and shiny jewellery reminding him of the two different worlds they came from. It was on the fourth visit when he became impatient and decided to move their relationship forward and to try and seduce her. His hands on her waist and wandering lips warranted a red cheek and a view of Y/N’s back as she huffed out of the room. 
The next time he came, he made sure to bring Charlie. She would have to meet him eventually and he could only hope she wouldn’t bring up his actions with a child in the same room. It was fair to say she much preferred the boy’s company, immediately grinning Charlie and bringing out a story book to share with him. It was this moment where Tommy couldn’t completely resent the arrangement. Charlie liking her was more important than him liking her. And after Y/N had taken him to the stables to meet her horses, Charlie would barely release the woman. It was there where Tommy had attempted to apologise for his behaviour the previous visit (not really because he was sorry, but more to remain on good terms with her father). It was also here that when Y/N had distracted Charlie with her most beautiful mare, told Tommy if he tried anything again she wasn’t afraid to use the hunting gun and shoot it at his unmentionables. 
---
The wedding hadn’t been anything special to Tommy. He had already had his dream wedding with Grace and Y/N had refused to have a big attendance, although this didn't stop her from wearing a very extravagant dress. The ceremony was limited to only Y/N’s father, Charlie and Aunt Polly.  Polly had returned to Birmingham the same afternoon, after their lunch, with Charlie. Mr Brown had retired to his room which left the newly weds alone. Except their anticipated wedding night consisted of Y/N leading Tommy to a guest room and shutting herself into her bedroom. 
Tommy spent the next few days, finalising some business and plans with his new father-in-law, while Y/N was busy packing her bags to move into Tommy’s manor with him and Charlie.
The rain was heavy on the day they were to drive back. Despite still being angry at her father, she gave him a tight hug before rushing into the vehicle, out of the rain. It was a long car journey back to Birmingham and Y/N had taken to sulking with her arms crossed, staring out of the window for the first hour. 
Tommy sighed and pursed his lips, “We should at least try to be civil, you know.” By the look on Y/N’s face, he knew his words would cause them to argue. He didn't care though, arguing would be better than sitting in silence for the rest of the trip. He also couldn’t take another minute of watching the woman fidget in her seat, he knew she was itching to speak.
Y/N kept her gaze out of the window, “You and my father dealt me off like i’m a fucking horse. I don’t have to be nice to you.” 
Tommy clenched his jaw, feeling desperate for a cigarette. ”Your father wanted what was best for you.” He heard Y/N let out an amused huff.
“Oh and you’re my knight in shining armour? Lucky me.” Tommy turned to look at her before focusing back on the road. He chose not to say anything, “I don't even see why I had to marry in the first place. I was fine staying with my father.’”
This time Tommy felt amused, “Hmm and doing what exactly? Perching on your little pedestal and looking pretty?" He hid his smirk when Y/N turned to look at him with an annoyed expression. He quite liked riling her up. 
“I’m not just some spoiled little girl, so stop treating me like one.” She crossed her arms again and huffed.
“If you didn’t act like one, perhaps I wouldn’t treat you like one.” Tommy retorted.
"Your perception of women is abhorrent. Just because I'm pretty and like to dress nicely, does not mean you can belittle me. And if you continue to do so, we are going to have problems." Tommy raised his eyebrows. "Besides, you ought to tread carefully, you are looking at the future owner of the Brown distillery. My father may have made a deal with you that doesn't mean i can't change it when i'm in charge."
Tommy felt a smile growing on his face, "You would deny your own husband?" It widened when all Y/N did was smirk at him. The silence grew again before Tommy asked, "You think you can handle running the business?"
Y/N smoothed down her hair that had gone fluffy from the rain, "You may think i just sit around, but I am very much involved in the distillery. I'm more than capable of running the business."
Tommy quickly glanced at her again, finding a sense of respect he didn't expect to feel. 
When Tommy didn’t reply, Y/N scrunched her nose up, "I do hope you're not a husband who will deny me of such a job.” Tommy rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Good, because I wouldn't have listened anyway."
"And what shouldn't a husband deny you of?" Tommy questioned in a teasing tone.
"Hmm,” Y/N grinned. “A good husband should let me do exactly as I please. He will let me work, go to the market, run through the garden without shoes, gallop through the field on a horse, or do absolutely nothing all day."
"And, what about a good wife?"
Y/N stroked her chin in thought and looked at Tommy "Well, I guess that's for you to decide."
Tommy didn’t answer her. "You like horses?" He said a few moments later. 
"Love.” Y/N smiled and looked out the window dreamily, the rain still hitting the window. “I grew up with my grandparents in the countryside, they were from my mum's side, who, well, were not rich like my dad’s. We spent all our time on the farm and from the moment I first laid my eyes on the beautiful horses, that was it."
Tommy smirked, "So the city girl is actually a farm girl?" Y/N’s response was a roll of the eyes.  "The horses you showed Charlie were incredible." His words seemed to divert Y/N back into her bratty state, she crossed her arms again and glared at the man, raising an eyebrow at him. "And I had to leave them behind."
Before Tommy could respond, the car jolted. He lost control for a moment before managing to stop the car. Trees surrounded the pair and Tommy recognised the road built through the forest. He wasted no time to jump out and check each wheel, finding the problem on Y/N’s side, a small hole visible. Y/N rolled down the window, "What happened?”
"The tyres burst, I must have hit a stone or something." He stood back up wiping down his suit. "Come on." He opened the door to her side and gestured for her to get out. 
"What?"
"The house isn't far from here, we can go by foot." Y/N looked at him in shock.
"It's raining and muddy!" She made a motion to her dress, to which Tommy rolled his eyes. He grabbed her arm and pulled her out, dragging her to the boot of the car. He pulled out one of the smaller luggage bags and pushed it in her arms before looking at her pointedly, "You said you grew up on a farm." 
"Past tense, Thomas!" She huffed and re-positioned the bag, watching Tommy grab the two larger ones. He led them around the car and they walked barely a metre before a man with shoulder length grey hair came out of the trees pointing a gun at the two. "Don't be leaving so quick now." He let out a whistle and more men came from the trees, all with guns. Y/N gulped and raised her hands in the air, subsequently dropping her bag, the contents spilling over the floor. She heard Tommy curse and watched him put the luggage down more carefully than her. 
"Y/N go back in the car." Not having to be told twice she rushed back to the passenger side. Feeling nervous when the men advanced on Tommy, a fist fight, four on one beginning. 
Before she could open the door, one of the men had grabbed her, making her yelp and shove him to the ground. She tried to hit the next man who made a grab for her but he caught her arm and held it behind her back. It took three men to stop her struggling, pulling her to where their leader stood. They held her there, Tommy a few metres opposite her being held in a similar position, a cut on his forehead and a bruised eye. The two watched as the thieves began rifling through Tommy’s car and her luggage on the floor.
One of them held up a rather beautiful, expensive looking dress adorned in jewels. “Excuse me!” Y/N spat, missing Tommy closing his eyes in annoyance. ”That was my mother’s dress, you give that back!” She felt the men tighten their hold on her. The leader smirked and stalked over to her. He lifted one of his ring covered hands and caressed her cheek. "Feisty little thing.” He whispered. 
Tommy began struggling, "Let her go.” He demanded, voice strong but eyes tired. “Your fight is against me not her." Y/N could only then see that the two men knew each other. The man removed his hand and walked closer to Tommy. He relented and told the men to release her.
Y/N pushed her way out of their arms, shivering from the rain and annoyed at the mud tracing up her skirts. She raised her chin to the leader, "I demand that you give me back all of my things. And since you shot through one of the tyres and have my driver captured, a horse for the journey back." All of the men’s eyes widened at her order. The leader titled his head, and grinned sarcastically.
“Princess,” He spread his arms out in front of him, ”You may have anything you can carry." His men chuckled around them. Y/N raised her eyebrows, a devious look in her eyes as she glanced at Tommy, who was staring at her in disbelief. 
“Do I have your word on that, Sir? She asked.
The man bowed his head, “On my honour as a Gypsy.”
Y/N nodded once. She walked past the Gypsy, staring at him as she passed. Walking straight over her clothes on the floor, Y/N  made her way to Tommy, the men who were holding him backing away. She lifted his arm up and bent down, huffing as she lifted her husband across her back. The Gypsy man opened his mouth in shock, watching as Y/N gave him a sarcastic smile and a slight curtsy before making her way down the road, holding Tommy on her back.
A ruckus of laughter erupted from the group of men at the sight. Even the leader couldn't help but laugh loudly at the daring girl. "Come back!” He paused, chuckling, “You may have a horse."
Y/N sat in front of Tommy on the horse as they rode to the manor. He knew that this reckless but incredibly clever woman would cause him a great deal of trouble, he just couldn’t bring himself to resent it anymore.
I can just imagine Y/N telling John this story and Tommy having to kick him out because of all the teasing... 
366 notes · View notes
saladejin · 4 years
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Admire | 04
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Seokjin x Fem!Reader | arranged marriage!au, husband!Seokjin | Strangers to lovers, angst, self discovery, loneliness in luxury, touch starvation (eventual smut), eventual domestic fluff
Summary: You’d never needed anyone else. Growing up alone, living alone, existing alone. It all came naturally and effortlessly, quite like breathing. That was until your somewhat distant parents finally decided it was time to make good on a promise. One they’d made before you were even born.
Warnings: Brief mentions of semi-absent parents
Word Count: 2k
A/N:  Hey there, this is just a short chapter I decided to post as a bridge to the next part of the story-line. Hope you enjoy :)
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“I know that you’re living a different life now (Y/n), but you still can’t skip out on the annual summer road trip,” your mother’s voice chided. You held the phone away from your ear slightly to avoid bursting your own eardrums.
“But - am I just meant to go on my own and leave the house? The road trips aren’t exactly meant for…”
You trailed off with a weird strangled noise in your throat, knowing that saying ‘people like him’ would only sound bad. Seokjin looked up at the changing tone of your voice, eyeing you with an intense curiosity. There was no way he didn’t pick up that it was him you were referring to.
You had been sitting together at the dining table, feasting on an old-style Italian pasta dish you’d decided to whip up right before your mother called. It was one of the only times you two had actually eaten together since getting married, as you usually just ordered food whenever you were hungry or ate out somewhere his driver would take you.
You had just been shocked that the stoic man agreed to share what you’d made in the first place.
“He can come along, no worries. I’ve already told the guide that you’d be bringing your husband anyway, since I just assumed he’d go with you,” your mother said in a dismissive tone, seemingly distracted on the other end.
Shit, right. We’re meant to be in love.
“Okay, but it’s going to be pretty different to what we’ve been doing so far.” You sighed, thinking about all the high-class parties you’d attended in the last few months, twirling some pasta around your fork absent-mindedly. Seokjin was going to be way out of his element here.
“Then it’s settled, you leave in a couple of days. Remember the meeting spot?”
“Yes, Mum. Bye then.”
You hung up the phone and sunk back into the chair across from Seokjin, exchanging his look with one fizzling with tension. Not one of you had touched your food since you took the call.
“You going to tell me what that was about?” he hummed after eventually moving to swallow down the last of his meal with a satisfied sigh.
“Yeah, just trying to figure out how to tell you.”
He seemed a tad concerned, but didn’t push any further. You sat and brooded with your thoughts for another minute or so before running your hands slowly through your hair in exasperation. You could almost laugh at how strange this was going to be for him.
“Okay so we do this thing every year, although my parents don’t usually go, where our extended family and friends have a summer road trip out to the countryside and sometimes stop by the beach. It’s kind of like a break from the busy lives they all lead, and it’s … such a big difference from their wealthy lifestyles,” you explained, not catching any change in facial expression from the handsome man across from you.
“So … I used to tag along because like you just heard, my mother nags me to go, and the trips always turned out being not half bad. If anything, I enjoyed getting out and seeing the different ways of life the people there lived. It was a nice change of scenery too.”
You realized you were ranting and cleared your throat, pushing your half empty bowl away from you. Seokjin looked like he was pondering again, but you were already guessing the thought of a road trip probably put him off terribly.
“Look, my mother said you’d come along but no one’s going to force you. It’s just a getaway thing that lasts for a couple of weeks, I wouldn’t be gone for too long. Maybe you could attend a party or ball by yourself for once, it’d make everything much easier for you-”
“I’ll go.”
You blinked at him in shock, but he only gazed back with a spark of interest flashing in his dark eyes. The raw emotion was such a rarity for him that you had to blink again to snap out of the awed emotion that was now warming up your cheeks.
“You will?” you squeaked, hating how high your voice had pitched itself.
“Yeah, I don’t want life to get boring. I’ve never done something like this, so I’ll see how it goes,” he replied simply, a small smile resting on his lips as he took in your expression alighting with appreciation. Was he always this adventurous? Maybe deep down, there were sides to this man you had yet to discover.
“Well, we leave in a couple of days. I can tell the driver the meeting location and everything… uh, are you sure?”
“Yes, (Y/n).”
You got up from your seat and swept up your dishes, feeling an odd excitement flood your whole chest at the prospect of going on a retreat with Seokjin. Getting to spend some time with the man who was slowly but surely warming up to you was such a promising idea. Plus, lately you’d been wanting to get closer to him. Your need for pure company was becoming overwhelming.
You wanted your own husband to be the person you could turn to when you needed attention … but after giving it too much thought, you knew that there was no way he’d care enough to want to put up with that. It was borderline foolish of you.
“So, you didn’t really go on many holidays?” you probed quietly after rinsing the bowls. He’d shifted himself from the table to one of the kitchen stools to watch you work. You felt oddly comfortable under his searching gaze, even if you did look quite average in your tracksuit pants and simple white tee.
“If my father’s business trips count?” Seokjin snorted in dry humour. You could tell he was legitimately curious about the whole road trip thing, which was so baffling to you considering he’d barely tried to ask you about your life at all.
“Well, what did you do on those trips?”
You wiped your dripping hands on a dish cloth and sat across from him, only the sparkling white benchtop separating the two of you. You had been spending a fair amount time in this position during the past week or so, and it filled you with joy having these longer interactions with him whenever it happened.
“My father would take my brothers and I when we were younger to his workplaces. Teaching us his ways and getting us prepared for when we would take on jobs at the firm. My mother did her own thing, but would only talk to us about what we’d done that day. Maybe there was the occasional shopping trip for new clothes, but both parents were busy most of the time,” he said rather sourly.
Seokjin was obviously tired of having to spend so much of his life pleasing his own mother and father. You couldn’t have imagined how repetitive it all must have been, then again you didn’t really know what it was like spending time with your own parents in the first place.
“Can you tell me what you used to do, then?” he asked suddenly. You raised your eyebrows in disbelief, because he was asking about you, but then you felt bad for painting him in such a bad light. He wasn’t a terrible person; he just hadn’t engaged this much before. That’s why you were taken so off guard when he looked at you straight in the eyes and asked you the question so calmly.
“Um, yeah of course.” You smiled as the feeling of warmth enveloped your very soul, “So… since I never went on business travels with my parents, the only form of a holiday I ever experienced were these trips. They helped me relax and took my mind away from everything.”
You breathed out deeply at the memory of the countryside breeze, and the feeling of the piping hot beach sand crunching underneath your toes. You could only imagine the feeling of the sun’s rays kissing your skin as Seokjin watched in a mildly fascinated state.
“We’d travel as a large group in separate motorhomes – by the way we’ll most likely get one to ourselves – and stop in many small towns along the way. We’d go on walks and find lovely spots to eat lunch, and we’d visit special lookouts along with other cool cultural sites. The best thing was when you got the day to just venture through the place on your own, doing whatever you wanted and exploring the country.”
You unclasped your hands and let your voice die in your throat, not wanting to subject the man to more of your wistful reminiscing. He was hearing all about memories you held close to your heart, because throughout your school years the travelling was what’d kept your mind relaxed and stress-free.
“Sounds like it’ll be interesting for me. You said we’ll be given a motorhome, so we’re the ones driving?” he questioned quietly, almost as if he didn’t expect you to cut yourself off so soon.
“Yeah, I grew up with that brand of vehicle so I can do most of the driving. I’ve got my license,” you assured, barely stifling a giggle as you recalled memories of learning how to drive a motorhome for the first time.
“We can take turns,” he replied shortly, raising a strong eyebrow at you as if daring you to challenge him. You nodded in a slight daze of shock.
So you can drive too, huh.
You never would have guessed, after knowing that the handsome man had been chauffeured around basically his whole life. What need would he even have for a driver’s license?
“Well, I’m going to bed. I’ll start packing for this trip, just let me know if I need anything else,” Seokjin announced with a grunt as he slid off the chair and made his way around the bench to stand before you. He was dressed pretty casually as well, with a light blue button-up shirt hanging over grey trousers, but he still looked so unfairly tasteful.
“The only thing I’ll really say is just bring casual, but comfortable clothes. Oh, and a hat or cap if you have one,” you said, feeling giddy with anticipation for the holiday already. He nodded to acknowledge the advice, resting his weight onto one foot and pursing his thick lips as he thought about if he did, in fact, own a hat.
“Goodnight then,” you spoke after feeling something strange wash over you. This random urge to show him how elated you truly were. Your steps were bouncy and full of life, similar to the fitful pounding of your heart that felt full to the brim.
You stepped forward and placed your hands upon his crossed arms, then stood on your tiptoes and pressed your lips to his smooth cheek. He didn’t jerk away or tell you off, just stood rigidly still for a few seconds before leaving the room to head to bed. It was only after he was gone that it finally hit you.
No way… did I just do that? Did I actually just freaking do that?
Your face erupted into a fiery crimson blush and you almost slammed your head down into the benchtop below you. All the couple-like actions you both performed at the parties must have made themselves a habit of yours, and since you’d been feeling so happy the desire to kiss him just leapt out.
“Idiot, oh my God,” you whimpered to yourself, busying your hands by cleaning the rest of the kitchen in a hurry. The fact that he hadn’t said a single thing scared you. Did he hate it? Or did he like it, or did he just not care? There was no way of knowing!
You scurried off to your room and heard the door shut behind you a little louder than normal. Your embarrassment was flowing thickly through your veins at this point. You just needed to bury your head under the covers and forget that the whole thing happened.
It wouldn’t take long for him to forget, right?
Copyright © 2020 by salade. All rights reserved.
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letterboxd · 2 years
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Noir Zealand Road Trip.
Breakout noir filmmaker James Ashcroft speaks to Letterboxd’s Indigenous editor Leo Koziol about his chilling new movie Coming Home in the Dark—and reveals how Blue Velvet, Straw Dogs and a bunch of cult New Zealand thrillers are all a part of his Life in Film.
“Many different types of feet walk across those lands, and the land in that sense is quite indifferent to who is on it. I like that duality. I like that sense of we’re never as safe as we would like to think.” —James Ashcroft
In his 1995 contribution to the British Film Institute’s Century of Cinema documentary series, Sam Neill described the unique sense of doom and darkness presented in films from Aotearoa New Zealand as the “Cinema of Unease”.
There couldn’t be a more appropriate addition to this canon than Māori filmmaker James Ashcroft’s startling debut Coming Home in the Dark, a brutal, atmospheric thriller about a family outing disrupted by an enigmatic madman who calls himself Mandrake, played in a revelatory performance by Canadian Kiwi actor Daniel Gillies (previously best known for CW vampire show The Originals, and as John Jameson in Spider-Man 2). Award-winning Māori actress Miriama McDowell is also in the small cast—her performance was explicitly singled out by Letterboxd in our Fantasia coverage.
Based on a short story by acclaimed New Zealand writer Owen Marshall, Ashcroft wrote the screenplay alongside longtime collaborator Eli Kent. It was a lean shoot, filmed over twenty days on a budget of just under US $1 million. The film is now in theaters, following its premiere at the Sundance Film Festival in January, where it made something of an impact.
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Erik Thomson, Matthias Luafutu, Daniel Gillies and Miriama McDowell in a scene from ‘Coming Home in the Dark’.
Creasy007 described the film as “an exciting New Zealand thriller that grabs you tight and doesn’t let you go until the credits are rolling.” Jacob wrote: “One of the most punishingly brutal—both viscerally and emotionally—first viewings I’ve enjoyed in quite a while. Will probably follow James Ashcroft’s career to the gates of Hell after this one.”
Filmgoers weren’t the only ones impressed: Legendary Entertainment—the gargantuan production outfit behind the Dark Knight trilogy and Godzilla vs. Kong—promptly snapped up Ashcroft to direct their adaptation of Devolution, a high-concept novel by World War Z author Max Brooks about a small town facing a sasquatch invasion after a volcanic eruption. (“I find myself deep in Sasquatch mythology and learning a lot about volcanoes at the moment,” says the director, who is also writing the adaptation with Kent.)
Although Coming Home in the Dark marks his feature debut, Ashcroft has been working in the creative arts for many years as an actor and theater director, having previously run the Māori theater company Taki Rua. As he explains below, his film taps into notions of indigeneity in subtle, non-didactic ways. (Words in the Māori language are explained throughout the interview.)
Kia ora [hello] James. How did you come to be a filmmaker? James Ashcroft: I’ve always loved film. I worked in video stores from the age thirteen to 21. That’s the only other ‘real job’ I’ve ever had. I trained as an actor, and worked as an actor for a long time. So I had always been playing around with film. My first student allowance that I was given when I went to university, I bought a camera, I didn’t pay for my rent. I bought a little handheld Sony camera. We used to make short films with my flatmates and friends, so I’ve always been dabbling and wanting to move into that.
After being predominantly involved with theater, I sort of reached my ceiling of what I wanted to do there. It was time to make a commitment and move over into pursuing and creating a slate of scripts, and making that first feature step into the industry. My main creative collaborator is Eli Kent, who I’ve been working with for seven years now. We’re on our ninth script, I think.
But Coming Home in the Dark, that was our first feature. It was the fifth script we had written, and that was very much about [it] being the first cab off the rank; about being able to find a work that would fit into the budget level that we could reasonably expect from the New Zealand Film Commission. I also wanted to make sure that piece was showing off my strengths and interests—being a character-focused, actor-focused piece—and something that we could execute within those constraints and still deliver truthfully and authentically to the story that we wanted to tell and showcase the areas of interest that I have as a filmmaker, which have always been genre.
Do you see the film more as a horror or a thriller? We’ve never purported to be a horror. We think that the scenario is horrific, some of the events that happen are horrific, but this has always been a thriller for me and everyone involved. I think, sometimes, because of the premiere and the space that it was programmed in at Sundance, being in the Midnight section, there’s a sort of an association with horror or zany comedy. For us it’s more about, if anything, the psychological horror aspect of the story. 
It’s violent in places, obviously, but there’s very little violence actually committed on screen. It’s the suggestion. The more terrifying thing is what exists in the viewer’s mind [rather] than necessarily what you can show on screen. My job as a storyteller is to provoke something that you can then flesh out and embellish more in your own psyche and emotions. It’s a great space, the psychological thriller, because it can deal with the dramatic as well as some of those more heightened, visceral moments that horror also can touch on.
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Director James Ashcroft. / Photo by Stan Alley
There’s a strong Māori cast in your film. Do you see yourself as a Māori filmmaker, or a filmmaker who is Maori? Well, I’m a Māori everything. I’m a father, I’m a husband, I’m a friend. Everything that I do goes back to my DNA and my whakapapa [lineage]. So that’s just how I view my identity and my world. In terms of categorizing it, I don’t put anything in front of who I am as a storyteller. I’m an actor, I’m a director. I follow the stories that sort of haunt me more than anything. They all have something to do with my experience and how I see the world through my identity and my life—past, present and hopefully future.
In terms of the cast, Matthias Luafutu [who plays Mandrake’s sidekick Tubs], he’s Samoan. Miriama McDowell [who plays Jill, the mother of the family] is Māori. I knew that this story, in the way that I wanted to tell it, was always going to feature Māori in some respect. Both the ‘couples’, I suppose you could say—Hoaggie [Erik Thomson] and Jill on one side and Tubs and Mandrake on the other—I knew one of each would be of a [different] culture. So I knew I wanted to mirror that.
Probably more than anything, I knew if I had to choose one role that was going to be played by a Māori actor, it was definitely going to be Jill, because for me, Jill’s the character that really is the emotional core and our conduit to the story. Her relationship with the audience, we have to be with her—a strong middle-class working mother who has a sort of a joy-ness at the beginning of the film and then goes through quite a number of different emotions and realizations as it goes along.
Those are sometimes the roles that Māori actors, I often feel, don’t get a look at usually. That’s normally a different kind of actor that gets those kinds of roles. And then obviously when Miriama McDowell auditions for you it’s just a no-brainer, because she can play absolutely anything and everything. I have a strong relationship with Miriama from drama-school days, so I knew how to work with her on that.
Once you put a stake in the ground with her, then we go, right, so this is a biracial family, and her sons are going to be Māori and that’s where the Paratene brothers, who are brothers in real life, came into the room, and we were really taken with them immediately. We threw out a lot of their scripted dialogue in the end because what we are casting is that fundamental essence and energy that exists between two real brothers that just speaks volumes more than any dialogue that Eli and I could write.
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Matthias Luafutu as Tubs in ‘Coming Home in the Dark’.
What was your approach to the locations? [The area we shot in] is very barren and quite harsh. I spent a lot of time there in my youth, and I find them quite beautiful places. They are very different kinds of landscapes than you normally see in films from our country. We didn’t want to go down The Lord of the Rings route of images from the whenua [land] that are lush mountains and greens and blues, even though that’s what Owen Marshall had written.
I was very keen, along with Matt Henley, our cinematographer, to find that duality in the landscape as well, because the whole story is about that duality in terms of people, in terms of this world, and that grey space. So that’s why we chose to film in those areas.
Regarding the scene where Tubs sprinkles himself with water: including this Māori spiritual element in the film created quite a contrast. That character had partaken in something quite evil, yet still follows a mundane cultural tradition around death. What are your thoughts on that? Yeah. I’m not really interested in black-and-white characters of any kind. I want to find that grey space that allows them to live within more layers in the audience’s mind. So for me—and having family who have spent time in jail, or knowing people who have gone through systems like state-care institutions as well as moving on to prison—just because you have committed a crime or done something in one aspect of your life, that doesn’t mean that there isn’t room and there aren’t other aspects that inform your identity that you also carry.
It’s something that he’s adopted for whatever reasons to ground him in who he is. And they can sit side by side with being involved in some very horrendous actions, but also from Tubs’ perspective, these are actions which are committed in the name of survival. You start to get a sense Mandrake enjoys what he does rather than doing it for just a means to the end. So any moment that you can start to create a greater sense of duality in a person, I think that means that there’s an inner life to a world, to a character, that’s starting to be revealed. That’s an invitation for an audience to lean into that character.
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Erik Thomson and Daniel Gillies in ‘Coming Home in the Dark’.
What is the film that made you want to get into filmmaking? The biggest influence on me is probably David Lynch’s Blue Velvet. I saw that when I was ten years old. A babysitter, my cousin, rented it. It’s not a film that a ten-year-old should see, by the way. I was in Lower Hutt, there in my aunty’s house, and it was very cold, and there’s a roaring fire going. My cousin and her boyfriend were sitting on a couch behind me, and they started making out. I sort of knew something was going on behind me and not to look. So I was stuck between that and Dennis Hopper huffing nitrous, and this very strange, strange world opening up before me on the television.
I’ve had a few moments like that in my life [where a] film, as well as the circumstance, sort of changed how I view the world. I think something died that day, but obviously something was born. You can see what Lynch did in those early works, especially Blue Velvet. You don’t have to go too far beneath the surface of suburbia or what looks normal and nice and welcoming to find that there’s a complete flip-side. There’s that duality to our world, which we like to think might be far away, but it’s actually closer than you think.
That speaks to Coming Home in the Dark and why that short story resonated with me the first time I read it. Even in the most beautiful, scenically attractive places in our land, many different types of feet walk across those lands, and the land in that sense is quite indifferent to who is on it. I like that duality. I like that sense of we’re never as safe as we would like to think. Blue Velvet holds a special place in my heart.
What other films did you have in mind when forming your approach to Coming Home in the Dark? Straw Dogs, the Peckinpah film. The original. Just because it plays in that grey space. Obviously times have changed, and you read the film in different ways now as you might have when it first came out. But that was a big influence because there was a moral ambiguity to that film; those lines of good and bad or black and white, they don’t apply anymore. It just becomes about what happens when people are put under extreme pressure and duress, and they abandon all sense of morals. The Offence by Sidney Lumet would be another one, very much drawn to that ’70s ilk of American and English filmmaking.
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‘Coming Home in the Dark’ was filmed on location around the wider Wellington region of New Zealand.
Is there a New Zealand film that’s influenced you significantly? There’s a few. I remember watching The Lost Tribe when it was on TV. That really scared me. I just remember the sounds of it. Mr. Wrong was a great ghost story. That stuck with me for a long time. The Scarecrow. Once I discovered Patu! [Merata Mita’s landmark documentary about the protests against the apartheid-era South African rugby tour of New Zealand in 1981], that sort of blew everything out of the water, because that was actually my first induction and education that this was something that even occurred. I think I saw that when I was about eighteen. That this was something that occurred in our history and had ramifications that were other than just a rugby game.
And Utu, every time I watch that, it doesn’t lose its resonance. I get something new from it every time. It’s a great amalgamation of identity, culture, of genre, and again, plays in that grey space of accountability. Utu still has that power for me. It’s one of those films, when it’s playing, I’ll end up sitting down and just being glued to the screen.
It’s a timeless classic. I will admit that when I watched your film, The Scarecrow did immediately come to mind, as did Garth Maxwell’s Jack Be Nimble. Yeah. [Jack Be Nimble] was really frightening. Again, it was that clash of many different aspects. There was a psychosexual drama there. You’ve got this telekinetic mind control and that abuse and that hunkering down of an isolated family. There are plenty of New Zealand films that have explored a sort of similar territory. They’re all coming to me now.
Bad Blood has a great sense of atmosphere and photography and the use of soundscape to create that shocking sense of isolation and terror in these quick, fast, brutal moments, which then just sort of are left to ring in the air. But I love so much of New Zealand cinema, especially the stuff from the ’80s.
Kia ora [good luck], James. Kia ora.
Related content
Leo’s Letterboxd list of Aotearoa New Zealand Scary-As Movies Adapted from Literature
Dave’s Cinema of Unease list
A Brutal Stillness: Gregory’s list of patient, meditative genre films
Sailordanae’s list of Indigenous directors of the Americas
Follow Leo on Letterboxd
‘Coming Home in the Dark’ is available now in select US theaters and on VOD in the US and New Zealand. All photographs by Stan Alley / GoldFish Creative. Comments have been edited for length and clarity.
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hetacakes · 4 years
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hitchhiking.
miya twins x fem! reader
snow white au, aka me making fanfics about my own fanfic
in which reader leaves her home in the big apple, the busy city, the whatever you'd like to call it, and takes a trip to a forest, the literal opposite of home. in fact, the two places are so different that in order to get there, a plane ride is preferable over a road trip. after a week, it's time to go home, with souvenirs, of course. leaving with a heavier bag is to be expected, but the empty backpack meant for said souvenirs was a bit too heavy, suspiciously heavy
aka reader just wants to relax and ends up bringing two hitchhiker foxes home
the others aren't included in this one, sorry :( one certain bluebird will make a guest appearance but other than that the storyline is in no way connected to snow white (though i made a few ~allusions~ for the Drama) anyway, i hope you love these annoying foxes as much as i do <3
also this is borderline abo but in my defense i wanted to make them seem more animal-like since they're technically wild animals
warning for cussing because life is hard and osamu hates atsumu
word count: 9,505
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   You grew up in the suburbs, always just a half hour away from the big, bustling city, where everything is fast paced with streams of people working and struggling to make their dreams come true. So it was no surprise that when you were old enough to move out, you immediately made a home in a rundown, shitty apartment, taking the typical "small apartment, big dreams" approach to life. And it was true, you did have a dream, a big dream. While you could have been anything else: a doctor, a lawyer, a profession that would make your parents happy and keep you reliably comfortable your whole life, you could never picture forcing yourself to work through something that made you unhappy, and so you decided to take the writer path.
   It was as if you were meant to be part of the busy metropolis, meant to be the same as everyone else in the crowd: broke, fresh out of uni, and barely paying the rent for a small, crappy apartment. You soon learned that dreaming to reach your dream job, a job where working hours weren't physically and mentally draining but were rather hours of doing what you loved, would only become more than just a dream at the price of your blood, sweat, and tears, just like it did for everyone else.
   But after working your ass off and putting two books on store shelves, you were able to end your contract with the sketchy landlord in the shady part of town and move into a nicer, actually livable apartment in a better building with a better landlord in a better neighborhood.
   Now when you stepped out of your complex, you were greeted with the refreshing sight of people passing by, the sky a clear blue, with a soft breeze you could feel underneath your windbreaker as it ruffled your hair and rustled your sleeves, the bright red, blue, and yellow fabric almost as bright as the sun overhead. Birds chirped in nearby trees, and if you walked around and looked for a while, you could find a few cats hanging around the sidewalk or hiding behind dumpsters.
   It was all you could have ever asked for and more.
   But sometimes, city life can be a distraction, and sometimes, you really, really need a change of pace and scenery.
   Which brought you to the present, sitting with your legs underneath you on your soft couch, squishing the plush grey throw pillows and balancing your laptop on your thighs. The money you got from your newest releases was in no means enough to call you rich, but it was comfortable enough that costs weren't one of your concerns as you typed a quick Google search. An airline website was open on your screen, and you were browsing through the available tickets, looking for one that would take you to a nice getaway, a small break from the nonstop chaos of your city, which had finally begun to wear you out from the endless stress and sleepless nights.
   "Seven day long camp resort in one of the country's most beautiful and idyllic forests," said the advertisement that popped up on the side of your browser. Clicking on it, it took you to a pretty convincing website about Inari Lodge, a tourist attraction in the middle of a forest you had never heard of before. Lists upon lists of hiking trails, forest tours, and crafted souvenir shops caught your eye, and before you knew it you were booking a week's stay in one of their cabins. Sealing the deal and buying your ticket, you sat back and sighed, ready for a vacation.
   Two weeks later, it was a few hours before your flight, so obviously you had already packed. Not. You called a friend over to help and keep you company while you packed, and ten minutes later, a familiar brunet walked through the door, ruffling his chocolate brown locks.
   "It's nice to see you, Tooru," you greeted, padding closer to him as he opened his arms for a hug. "Your hugs are the best, as always," you smiled up at him, before taking a step back.
   "You would have seen me either way; I was just on my way to bother you," he said. "You're taking a trip without me? How will I survive without you?"
   "Don't be dramatic, Ruru," you chided, pulling your suitcase onto your bed. "I know for a fact that the week I'm gone is the same week the team you're coaching has tournaments."
   "Ugh, don't remind me. They're good kids, but they suck ass," Tooru groaned, flopping next to your suitcase. "Do you have everything you need?"
   "You tell me. Check things off," you answered while looking through your closet.
   "Oooh, do I get to see your clothes?" Tooru asked suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows.
   You rolled your eyes at him. "My shirts and pants, yeah. Everything under that has been packed into this," you said, holding up a medium sized makeup pouch. 
   "Bummer. Oh well, there's always next time."
   "Ruru, stop being dirty."
   He grumbled something underneath his breath, low enough that you missed it. "Well, how long is the stay?"
   "A week."
   "So you need seven sets of clothes?"
   "Yeah, assuming I don't pee my pants," you smiled over your shoulder, watching as Oikawa held back a laugh with his hand, a wide smile spread across his face.
   "Haha, you got the whole squad laughing. How cold is it there?"
   "It's pretty cold, apparently. I'm not surprised, it's farther north than where we live, and it gets pretty chilly here sometimes," you answered, pulling a few sweaters out of your closet, pairing it with random pairs of jeans you grabbed, and passed them to Tooru, who folded and put them in your suitcase.
   "Aww, aren't I such husband material? Wait here wifey, I'm gonna get your stuff from the bath," Oikawa winked, throwing up a peace sign at you before he turned and disappeared behind the white door.
   "Can you get my toothbrush stuff too? Thank you~," you called after him in a sweet singsong voice. 
   You glanced at your bookbag, still on your couch, just where you left it. You looked at the scarf in your hands, a large white scarf too bulky to wear, and decided to throw it in there, along with your laptop and charger. You put an extra pair of comfortable boots in a reusable bag, neatly settling it between your clothes. Tooru handed you another bag, and a peek inside showed you your bath and bathroom essentials. You flashed a grateful smile at him, before turning and grabbing the last few items to throw in your bookbag-turned-carry-on, which included your notebook full of your messy brainstorming, a pack of pens, and your phone charger. Zipping your suitcase closed, you pulled up the handle and hung your bag around it.
   "Okay, I'm ready. I've got everything, except you," you winked mischievously at Tooru.
   "You're flirting! It's not fair," he complained, hand grabbing at his heart, the other draped dramatically over his forehead.
   "Guilty as charged," you winked, throwing up a finger heart. "Drive me to the airport?"
   "Of course, babe."
   You had already checked in your suitcase, got your ticket safely in your hand, and all that was left for you to do was wait an hour or so until boarding. You turned to Tooru, giving him one last hug. "I'm gonna miss you and the others, Ruru," you whispered softly, even though you were only leaving for a week.
   Tooru hugged you back, holding you tightly against his chest. He let you go, before taking a step back and pulling his hoodie over his head, his shirt riding up a bit, showing some skin for a split second. "Here, wear this," he said, handing it over to you.
   You brightened, smiling like a thousand suns before slipping it on. It was huge on you, and you were almost drowning in the soft, teal blue fabric. He gave you a fond look, his eyes shining in such pure, unadulterated love that it took your breath away for a moment.
   "Thank you, Tooru."
   "Keep it warm for me, okay?"
   "I know, I know, I promise you'll see it when I come back."
   He gave you one last hug, short and sweet, before walking away, turning to look back at you one last time. You stood there until the doors slid closed behind his back, a soft smile on your face, before you turned away and walked to your terminal, hoping to kill time either shopping, eating, or sleeping.
  You could finally lean back and relax once you were secured in your seat, miles in the air. Boarding and finding your aisle wasn't much of a hassle, thank the gods, and the glass of the plane window was refreshingly cool against the tip of your nose as you peered down at the clouds passing by. You held your bookbag against your chest, looking inside at the empty space in between the few items you did pack into it. Your laptop was safely zipped up in its designated pouch, along with its charger and your notebook, and the pack of pens that had somehow opened inside the pocket, which you had found out earlier as you tried to fish one out but instead pulled the empty cardboard packaging. Your phone charger was the only thing laying on the scarf you threw in there, a makeshift nest for nothing. Well, nothing yet.
   You were excited to spend a week in a completely different environment, surrounded by lush forestry and the coos and calls of whatever animals lived there, a place where you're never truly alone, but in a good way. It was a stark contrast from the car fumes in the city air, with the only plant life in a park square and the only sounds are the constant chatter and hum of people and cars finding their destinations. There never once was an hour of silence, and while you had been able to enjoy it as your background noise while writing, it wasn't long until you finally got tired of it. You could've sworn that the city had gotten louder on purpose just to exhaust and stress you out every night, so you were more than ready to finally be able to clear your head and maybe even flesh out an idea or two.
   The sound of the intercoms crackling to life made you jolt, holding a hand to the cold imprint on your cheek left from sleeping against the window. The pilot announced that the plane was descending, and you gathered your bag and Tooru's hoodie, bundling them both in your arms.
   Truth be told, you were glad to step off the plane. You felt the chill of the outside while walking off the plane through the passenger boarding bridge and stood for a second to put the hoodie back on, humming slightly at Tooru's smell still on the cloth, a nice, sweet but not too sweet scent that made you smile to yourself.
   You got lost in thought, so your body was on autopilot when you went to pick up your luggage and almost picked up the wrong suitcase, until the actual owner picked it up first, eyeing you weirdly. With guilty, heated cheeks, you grabbed your suitcase, checked it once, then twice, then three times, and finally hopped into an Uber as fast as you could, hoping that you wouldn't be starting your first day on vacation dying of embarrassment.
   You hurriedly thanked the driver for dropping you off, then made your way into a wooden building, the wood a warm oak with a little golden bell that chimed as you walked in. A woman behind the desk smiled at you, and you sighed, happy to have nothing to worry about, now that you were finally there.
   "Hello, welcome to Inari Lodge! Is there something I can help you with?"
   "Yes, please," you said, pulling your luggage close to you. "I reserved a cabin, and I need the keys, right?"
   "Of course," she smiled at you, and for a quick second, you thought that she resembled a cat, with black hair and upturned eyes.
   "Um, I'm sorry if I'm being intrusive, but are you a mom?"
   "Haha, don't worry, you're fine! Yes I am, my name is Kozume Sakura, and I have a son," she answered kindly, and you couldn't help but feel relieved to finally have a good thing to improve your currently-going-badly day.
   "Ah, it's just that you seemed familiar to someone I've seen around campus."
   "Ah, that would most likely be my son," she said, a sweet smile spreading across her face. "Anyway, here are your keys, and I've written the directions to your cabin right here. Don't hesitate to come and ask me for anything, okay?"
   "Yeah, okay," you nodded gratefully, making sure to wave goodbye as you walked out the doors, looking at the map in your hands.
   "I can not believe how hard it was to find you," you said to the cabin as you flopped on the bed, tired of having such a conflicting day. You sat up quickly, slapping your cheeks, "No, I won't let a few fuck ups ruin everything for me."
   Grabbing your phone, you slipped it into your hoodie pocket as you walked out the door, set on exploring the area.
   You decided not to take an official trail, preferring to save them for later, which brought you to an ordinary worn dirt path as you walked aimlessly, taking rights and lefts as you pleased.
   A rustling in the bushes lining the trail caught your attention. Just as you walked closer to separate the branches and peek through, a fox fell out of the leaves, as if something had pushed it out. The fox seemed to scowl at whatever had shoved it, before it turned its attention to you.
   Before you could think better, you crouched on the ground as you cooed, resting your cheek in your palm. "Hello, cutie fox, how are you?"
   The fox stared at you, which was good, because if it started speaking you would've booked it right then and there, but also bad, because you didn't know if it was irritated by your presence. It seemed to look warily at you, not ready to attack, but not fully trusting either.
   "Come here, I want to pet you," you crooned, holding out the end of your sentence as you leaned forward against your better judgement, shifting your legs from against your chest to underneath you. Before it could make a decision, however, another fox jumped out of the bushes and straight into your arms, settling happily in your lap. Caught by surprise, you stared, while the first fox yipped at it, jumping forward and pushing it out of your lap. You watched as they tumbled to the ground, rolling as they fought and wrestled.
   "Um, okay… I think I'll just go now, bye!" You quipped before turning around and walking steadily back to where you came from, not wanting to get caught up in a wild animal fight.
   "Look at what ya did 'Tsumu, why do ya always mess everything up?"
   "Me? Me?! You were the one that jumped me!"
   "'Cause I didn't recall inviting you to our conversation, dumbass!"
   "Yer a fuckin' fox, you can't talk! You're just jealous!"
   "So are you! We're twins, shithead!"
   And they kept arguing, voices carrying throughout the forest, even as they walked along the path the pretty, perfect, kind, and amazing love of their li— , ahem, the completely normal girl from earlier took, leading to the all too familiar lodge situated at the edge of their forest.
   "That was close," you whispered to yourself as you leaned against the door, as if the foxes would be strong enough to bust it open. They hadn't even followed you, as you didn't hear them, and when you glanced behind you, nobody was there.
   "Anyway, I guess I should plan out what I'm gonna do here, I don't want this trip to be a waste," you said, opening your suitcase and putting your clothes in the drawers, setting your bathroom essentials on top of it. You grabbed your bookbag from where you had thrown it on the bed and set it on a glass table. You pulled out your notebook and flipped to a blank page, cringing as you passed by page after page of chicken scratch.
   "The only reason I can read my own handwriting is because I'm there when it's written," you muttered to yourself as you rummaged for a pen, finding one out of the set of five. You wrote down the days of the week you'd be staying there, with your first official day starting tomorrow, on Tuesday. Your flight back was scheduled for a week later, on Monday. You hummed happily, glad that your timetable worked out so neatly as you wrote down the days of the week, leaving enough space for a bullet list underneath.
   On your last day at the lodge, you made sure to make a note to leave at noon at the latest, since your flight was at six in the afternoon, and you wanted to be extra, extra, extra sure that you would not miss it. Ideally, you would be all packed up Sunday night, but knowing you and your procrastinating self, you wrote it down for the day before, even though you knew you would probably be packing the day of, just as you did before.
   You made sure to set Saturday as souvenir hunting day, hoping to bring back something for Tooru, a thank you for the help and hoodie.
   The foxes you met earlier crossed your mind, but the grumbling of your stomach reminded you to get some dinner and wrap up your day. Holding the map out in front of you, you memorized the directions to a cafe not too far from your cabin, and went on your way.
   "Hello, can I get the sandwich of the day with a cinnamon hot chocolate and a slice of pumpkin bread?"
   "Of course! Here's your total."
   The worker you were pleasantly talking to gave you a small smile before glancing to the side, as if something caught his eye. He pulled a face at whatever he was looking at, and you followed his annoyed gaze to the two foxes you met earlier, playing next to one of the bean bag chairs next to the door, near the window wall of the cafe.
   You laughed awkwardly, "Haha, um, is there something wrong?"
   He seemed to snap out of giving them the stink eye, profusely apologizing to you as he provided an explanation, "No, no, it's fine, it's just that those two foxes are some of the forest animals that walk around the lodge, except they're the only ones that are more annoying than cute. Some cats and birds and such come by and usually will just sit next to the register, you know, like nice and normal animals, but these foxes seem hellbent on walking around and biting at people's ankles and fighting and making huge messes that they can't clean up because they're damn foxes."
   You laughed again, though this time it was genuine. "You seem to have very strong feelings about their mischief," you joked, watching as he relaxed.
   "Yeah, but at the end of the day, they're still just foxes, and we make sure all the animals of the forest are safe and sound."
   And if the foxes decided to cause more trouble than usual, that was their business, their decision, and not in any way related to the slight dislike of the barista, which was in turn totally not because you got along well with him.
   After paying, you made your way to a table in the corner of the windows where the glass met the wall, looking absentmindedly at the visitors and workers walking past, occasionally with a rabbit or bird or other critter.
   "I have your hot chocolate and sandwich, and your bread will be in just a moment. Unfortunately, I also brought these two," the barista you were talking to said as he set your food and drink on the table, before glancing at the floor. Just as you were about to lean over and see, two foxes jumped up on the seat across from you, settling themselves on the table, curled up like cats.
   You waved him off with a grin, "Oh it's fine, I have a feeling they'll behave."
   You took a sip out of your hot chocolate, savoring the warmth it gave you after being in the outside chill. You picked up your sandwich and took a bite, before speaking, "Are you done fighting?"
   Both foxes stared at you, and if they were people, you were sure their mouths would be hanging open, dumbfounded and mildly offended as you nonchalantly took another bite, not waiting for them to respond or react.
   You reached a hand out while they were frozen and pet the head of the fox nearest to you. It lowered its head slightly, shyly accepting your affection.
   "Aww, you're so cute. What's your name?"
   Of course, it couldn't speak, but it batted your hand with its left paw. "So cute," you crooned, "Come here?"
   Just like before, when the fox was about to walk towards you, the other one jumped at you, and you hurried to wrap your arms around it. You stared at it in your arms, tummy up like a baby.
   You rubbed its stomach. "What about you? What's your name?"
   He happily raised his right paw, and you held it gently before putting him back on the table, which was good, because the left paw fox was a second away from pouncing on it again. The fox you set down scrambled onto the tabletop, and watched with what you would call betrayed eyes as you carried the other fox into your lap, petting its head lightly.
   "It's not your turn," you quipped, focusing your attention on the fox in your lap. "You're so cute, so cute, please be my baby~."
   The fox you dumped on the table yipped indignantly at you, and you decided to mess with him. "Oh, you're still here? Well, I guess you're okay…" you trailed off, struggling to keep a poker face as he looked at you with puppy eyes, while the other fox barked out high pitched laughs, which made him get up and get ready to jump.
   You pet him between his ears. "I'm just joking. Jeez, you're always at each other's necks," you complained, sitting back and continuing to eat your sandwich.
   As if to prove you wrong, the fox in your lap jumped on the table and curled up with the other fox, both of them leaning against each other like close brothers. Coincidentally, the waiter walked by with your pumpkin bread, watching in amazement.
   "How did you do that?" he asked, and you just shrugged in response, your attention mostly on your sandwich.
   When you finished it, you took another sip of your drink before you tore off two pieces of your bread. You offered it to them as a reward, for finally behaving themselves. They yipped happily in response, content with spending the rest of your time together eating in comfortable silence.
   You pulled yourself out of bed, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. Embarrassingly, jet lag made you sleep in on Tuesday, your first official day at the lodge, and by the time you woke up, you had nothing to do but eat and jot down some story ideas, none of which stuck to you.
   So you made sure to wake up nice and early the next day, dead set on going on at least one trail. You showered and changed into a new pair of jeans and a knit grey sweater. You stood for a moment, debating if you should wear a jacket or Tooru's hoodie over it, but decided against it and deemed the sweater good enough.
   Thankfully, it was one of the warmer, sunnier days. You looked down at your map, making your way towards the open lodge outlet, taking note of the small clusters of people milling about, a familiar sight, albeit on a smaller, calmer scale. You looked up at the wooden signs pointing towards various shops, restaurants, and forest attractions. You finally found the one you were looking for, pointing to your right with the word "birdwatch" carved across. When you followed its directions, you came to a small gift shop at the start of a wide, dirt path, imprints of boots and footsteps all over the light brown ground. Walking inside, a small wind chime announced your arrival, twinkling like bird chirps, and the person behind the counter looked up.
   "Oh, it's you!" she exclaimed, recognizing your face.
   "Hello again! I thought you worked at the reception desk?"
   "I'm covering for someone's shift right now, they had finals to take. Are you here for a birdwatch?"
   "Spot on," you answered, bringing a hand up to rub the back of your head with a meek smile. Kozume winked at you, before taking out two binoculars from under the desk.
   "Well then, let's go!"
   "You know, some of these birds remind me of the ones that live near my apartment building," you mentioned, picturing the large cherry blossom tree that stretched its branches past your window. "The birds here are so much more interesting though," you lamented. "The city just has crows and small birds, but here there's robins and warblers and so many more species, with great diversity. It's like the bird version of the people back home."
   "I can imagine not many birds want to live near so many humans, but these have all of the forest to themselves. Look, the bird over there, with the blue mohawk, is called an Asian Paradise Flycatcher, and…" she trailed off, continuing your tour of one of the forest trails, before whipping an arm in front of you, exclaiming, "Watch your step!"
   You froze with your foot still in the air, watching as the fox you narrowly missed stepping on darted in front of you.
   "I'm sorry, he's not really supposed to be here, he has his own trail," Kozume frantically apologized while glaring at the fox, before sighing in relief when you responded with a small laugh.
   "It's fine, I've met him before," you reassured while looking around, searching for a certain somebody. "And I learned that he never walks alone…"
   To prove your point, the other fox you were well acquainted with joined his brother, running around in front of you.
   "Well, the next part of our trail is basically a circle back, so hopefully they run off to where they belong, I don't want you to get in trouble for messing with the animals because of them," Kozume said as you made a left, walking back to the start of the trail.
   When you opened the door to the gift shop, two furry animals zipped past your feet, and you already knew who they were before you even saw them.
   "Kozume, is it normal for these guys to always hang around here?" you asked, picking up both foxes in your arms, resting them comfortably in your arms.
   Kozume turned around to look at you, her hands still in midair, putting away your binoculars. "Actually, no, they do come by once or twice but they never hang around, and we just assumed they don't like people very much since they really only hang out with each other. They've never let anyone pet them…" she stopped mid-sentence as she watched you pet their heads and stomachs with no resistance from the two.
   You glanced up. "Huh? Oh, I don't really have a lot of experience with animals, but they're just so cute," you said, before snapping your head up, eyes wide in realization. "Hey, do you have some ribbon or something?"
   "Yes! We use them to identify specific birds we keep tabs on, especially ones we just recently nursed back to health," she explained, pulling out a box of ribbons, offering it to you. You set the foxes on the counter, watching Kozume hesitantly reach a hand out to them from the corner of your eye. They protested, but allowed her to pet them when you eyed them. Looking into the box, you fished out two ribbons, one a golden yellow, and the other a nice warm grey.
   "May I?" you asked, directing the question to Kozume. The foxes, however, decided you were talking to them and excitedly sat in front of you, pulling each ribbon towards them with their paw.
   "I think they said yes," Kozume chuckled, and you took that as your permission to put ribbons on their, er, the forest's foxes. You cooed at them, asking which one would go first. The fox with the yellow ribbon in his mouth nudged your hand with his face, making you smile.
   "Which are you, left or right?"
   The fox raised its right paw and rubbed his face as your answer, and you kept that in mind while you tied the ribbon around his neck, finishing it off with a nice bow. You did the same to the other fox, who voluntarily shook your hand with his left paw, just in case you forgot. By the time you were done, both foxes were playing on the counter, ribboned bows securely on their necks.
   "What if you started working here? The way you can interact with the animals so easily is honestly amazing," Kozume asked, springing the question on you out of the blue.
   You jumped, before you began rubbing the back of your head sheepishly, "Ah, I would love to, honestly, but I work as an author, and it's best if I stay relatively close to my publishing company."
   Kozume smiled understandingly, "Yeah, I figured. Well, just know that me and the foxes will be missing you hundreds of miles away." Then she brightened, pulling out her phone, "Put your number in, so we can stay in touch, and so I can keep an eye on my son," she winked cheekily as you accepted her offer.
   While the two of you were occupied, focused on your conversation, the two foxes stopped playing, standing abruptly and whipping their faces towards you.
   Loud crying made you turn away from Kozume and look for the source of the high-pitched whining, popping the question "who's making those crying puppy sounds?" into the air.
   Your eyes landed on the foxes, both of which were crying and walking towards you, tugging at your sleeve and rubbing their heads against your arms. Your heart melted, and you turned to Kozume, pity written across your face.
   "When I said they would miss you, I didn't think it would be this much…"
   "No, you can't come in here! I'll be kicked out if I let you guys in!"
   The foxes, still with the ribbons tied perfectly and safely around their necks, were looping around your legs, blocking your entrance to the cabin you've rented. They both looked up at you and cried, their whines catching the attention of some workers and visitors nearby.
   "Okay, fine! If I get in trouble, it's your fault," you relented, turning the knob and carefully opening the door, watching as they slipped in, leaving you to shut the smooth oak door quietly behind you as you flipped on the light switch.
   The second you let electric light flood the cabin, you realized the foxes were nowhere to be seen. Only mildly worried, since you knew they were at least somewhere inside, you shrugged it off and walked to the dresser, pulling out Tooru's hoodie and some sweatpants, before making your way to the bathroom.
   Out of nowhere, a fox came zooming at your feet, eager to come inside with you. This time, you were firm as you said, "I'm going to shower, so you can back off and play around while I'm in the bathroom, alone, with no perverts!"
   The grey fox started laughing at the peeping fox, which you realized was the yellow ribboned one. As expected, he launched at his brother, and you took the distraction as an opportunity to step inside the bathroom and shut the door behind you, locking it just to make sure.
   Freshly showered, with your comfortable, warm clothes on, you shuffled out of the bathroom, already expecting the foxes right there, having to step over them to make your way to the bed. They jumped up with you, but once the grey fox came close enough to sniff your hoodie, it barked indignantly, biting at the hoodie.
   "Hey! This isn't mine, it's Tooru's, so I can't let you destroy it!" you chided, pulling your sleeve away. Apparently you had said the wrong thing, because both foxes started pulling your sleeves together, before you yanked your arms out of their grips.
   "Tooru doesn't even smell bad, he smells nice," you said, pulling the hoodie up to smell the familiar scent, the aromas of chocolates and sweets in fresh air, reminding you of the skies back at the city: the smells of bakeries and cafes wafting through the air and birds chirping above you every time you walked down a street. Still, when the foxes continued growling, you reluctantly tugged the sweater off and stayed in just a white t-shirt, an old, stretched out shirt with the print on the front long since faded and gone.
   When you plopped back on the bed, the foxes crowded towards you, close enough that if you didn't know better, you'd think that they were trying to get you to forget about Tooru and focus on them. Subconsciously taking a breath, you caught the smell of a forest clearing or meadow, a smell of fresh grass and fresh air and petrichor, which you would expect from foxes that were supposed to stay and play in the forest, but you also noticed slight variations in the scent, obviously coming from either fox.
   Yellow ribbon had a scent like honey, with a strong undertone of a woodsy musk, which made you picture drinking tea sweetened with the golden syrup right outside your cabin. 
   Grey ribbon had a strong campfire scent, the smell of crackling wood and fire and melting chocolate. A scene under a clear night sky surrounding a fire with the aroma of cinnamon in the air came to mind, and you let yourself get lost in thought, your senses being occupied with new scents, sights, and imagery.
   If the foxes were human, their faces would surely have the widest, shit-eating grins, smug and satisfied at having you distracted from the minor annoyance from earlier and focused on them, just as they wanted.
   You snapped out of it. "You little—, you just want me to give you attention and affection and baby you," you accused, pushing them away from your face. They didn't protest or bark at you, and you figured it was because they knew they were guilty as charged. "Jeez, you're acting like Tooru is a threat or something…"
   You heard two big sighs, and blinked in surprise at the foxes as they settled onto the plush white covers. Maybe it was because they were so human-like and made you honestly contemplate whether they could understand you or not, or maybe it was because the only animal you've heard sigh is your mom's dog back at your family home, but whatever it was, it made you think, for a split second, that the foxes were humans turned animals, kind of like the frog prince. But that was stupid, so you shook your head, got up and turned off the lights, opening the curtains but keeping the blinds closed, and settled back into bed as slats of moonlight came from the spaces between the blinds.
   The foxes climbed into your arms, and you held them close to you as you fell asleep, telling yourself it was only because you had crossed the line earlier, even though deep down you knew that wasn't the real reason.
   You pulled the two fluffy sources of heat closer to you, unwilling to open your eyes and start the day. It's only when the heaters started licking your face that you panicked and freaked out.
   High pitched yips made the events of yesterday evening rush back to you, and you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes tiredly, surprised that you had a good night's sleep with two, technically, wild animals.
   You scooped the drowsy foxes into your arms before making your way to the big wooden door and pushing it open, setting the foxes on the ground.
   "You weren't even supposed to be in there, you know," you said as the foxes tried to get back in, pawing at the door. You shivered, the chill in the air numbing your exposed skin and wrapping around your bare arms, and you hurriedly shooed them away before retreating back inside the warmth of the cabin.
   Safely bundled in a sweater from your university under a hoodie, one of your own this time, you joined a group going for the fox trail, wondering if you'd see yours.
   Pointedly ignoring how you immediately thought of them as "your" foxes, you listened to the tour guide, an employee you hadn't met yet, talk about how the foxes don't always show on the trail.
   "That's a shame, let's just hope for the best," other visitors and families whispered around you, with some of them saying they didn't see that many foxes yesterday, only a few odd ones out here and there. Knowing where they actually were the day before, you stifled a laugh, even as your ears turned red with guilt and embarrassment, before following at the back of the group as they started the trail.
   Luckily, you saw a few grey and brown foxes, who seemed like actual normal foxes and not borderline sentient, but around the middle of the trail it was basically deserted.
   "Let me try to call them," the guide offered, bringing his hands up to cup his mouth and whistle loudly.
   Silence answered, with no signs of anything coming to visit. 
   The tour guide encouraged the group to call out and whistle, and various whistles and voices rose from the group.
   Not wanting to draw attention to yourself, you crouched low, at eye-level with the bushes, and softly called out for two specific foxes, your hello muffled by the rest of the crowd.
   You gave up, feeling stupid and unconvinced that your almost-whisper would carry over the noise of the crowd, and sat on the ground, legs folded under you, deciding to wait until the group either got tired or another fox actually showed up for them. Just then, the bushes in front of you started to rustle, and your lovely grey ribboned fox jumped out, immediately crawling into your lap to nuzzle your face.
   The people closest to you turned at the noise and noticed you cuddling with him on the ground, and word started spreading throughout the group that someone had successfully lured out a fox.
   "Look! There's one running this way!" the ones at the front of the group called, and you looked just in time to see your other fox running towards you, straight past the tour guide and the rest of the group. You smiled fondly at them, before lowering your face to let both of them rub their cheeks against yours.
   "Ma'am, could you please not touch the animals?" the tour guide told you timidly, obviously not wanting to reprimand you for being able to actually call out foxes on the designated fox trail, but you understood it was mostly so others didn't start getting any ideas, thinking they had permission.
   You nodded sheepishly, lightly putting them on the floor before standing up, wiping the dust off your knees. However, the whole group watched as the foxes looped around your feet, even going so far as to jump up and paw at your thighs.
   "Do you work here? You're so good with animals!" a mom in the crowd asked, and you looked at the actual worker, unsure of what to say. He stared back at you with just as much confusion, before shrugging, leaving you to make up a convincing story on the spot.
   "Actually, these foxes used to live near me, but I live in a city, so I brought them here so they'd be safer than on the streets," you fibbed, though you gave yourself a pat on the back for how reliable the story was. If anyone really did have to ask, yes, you did live in a city, and yes, you would one hundred percent bring foxes and other animals to a forest or wildlife lodge. Did that really happen? No, but could it? The answer was yes, and you sighed in relief when the mom turned, accepting your answer. You giggled when the tour guide released a breath he didn't even know he was holding, and he continued the trail, sending a discreet wink your way.
   You didn't notice the way your foxes growled at that, and if someone had asked you why you had two foxes right at your heels, walking next to you protectively like a pair of guard dogs, you'd blink in confusion, oblivious to the reality of their words.
   Before you knew it, it was Saturday, souvenir shopping day. You slung on your bookbag, ready to put some weight in it.
   At the lodge's shopping centre, you saw gift shops, clothing shops, and random trinket shops alike. In the gift shop, you found crystal figurines of animals in and around the lodge, and a cute little bird the color of a clear sky caught your eye. For some reason, it reminded you of Tooru, and you couldn't stop yourself from buying it and watching as the cashier wrapped it in paper before setting it in a white velvet box, cushioned and safe. Huh, crystal bird, blue, bluebird. You may have found another nickname for Ruru. You absentmindedly slipped it into your bag, happy to have found what you were looking for so fast and a new nickname.
   But stores weren't anything if not eye-catching, and the shelf of plush animals distracted you. The fox plushies, specifically, were so similar to actual foxes that they'd be perfect replacement cuddle buddies for when you went back home to your big city.
   But then you felt incredibly embarrassed and childish for that, so you shook your head as you walked out of the shop, ignoring the way that thought stuck in your head like a moth to a lamp.
   Still, you found yourself walking through store after store after store. Once you finally snapped out of it, you had just stepped out of the birdwatching souvenir store, all too aware of the set of postcards themed after the various birds you could spot on the trail. You told yourself that the blue mohawk bird on the front was a great reminder of both the trail and Kozume, and made a mental note to get her to write something before you left, lessening your guilt over having bought something almost useless.
   By the time you came back to the cabin, your wallet felt significantly lighter while your bookbag was very obviously heavier. You had stuffed the velvet box, postcard deck, two maroon sweaters with "Inari Lodge" printed across the front with the forest's logo, and a large and heavy book about spirits and legendary deities that guard and dwell in the forest. According to the summary on the back, the book was basically a collection of the myths and legends surrounding the forest, including one about people that could transform from animal to person and back again. The cover of the book immediately made you think "grimoire", and you were set on buying it, if not for the stories, then for the aesthetic.
   You wondered briefly if it was real as you unclasped the leather string binding the book shut and flipped through yellowed pages with torn edges, looking at all the pictures that looked believable hand drawn and writing in a language you could only understand when you squinted your eyes.
   You had wrapped everything in the two sweaters, and then in the white scarf, making sure they were safe and at no risk of being crushed or damaged, especially the crystalline figure.
   "Are ya sure she isn't coming back?"
   "Yes, 'Tsumu, last I checked she was dropping off her keys to Kozume."
   "But she'll be back soon?"
   "Yeah no shit, genius, that's why you either get in here with me or stay behind."
   "Hey, I'm just makin' sure you're prepared for this y'know, in case you start crying for momma or somethin'."
   "Shut yer face and die."
   "What do we do now?"
   "I don't wanna pay for a ticket, 'Samu."
   "Me neither, but we can't hitch a ride in her carry-on anymore, it's going through TSA."
   They both leaned against the wall, realizing that they were both stupid and their plan was stupid squared.
   Atsumu looked up, the ribbon around his neck moving with him, and he watched you walk into the bathroom, leaving your luggage outside the door. He nudged Osamu, pointing at the bathroom door.
   "Nice," he praised.
   And if people saw two foxes crawling into a bookbag? It's the airport at three in the alternate airport timeline, who cares.
   "My bag is so heavy," you complained, flopping into your assigned seat. It was another window seat, and the view of the land underneath becoming smaller and smaller until it was covered by a sea of clouds made you feel a little better. Still, how did your bag get that heavy? When it was empty, it was literally lightweight, and when you were still shopping, it wasn't that hard to carry it as you went from store to store. You groaned, rolling your shoulder from the pain of carrying the boulder of a bag.
   "That's what I get for buying so much," you berated yourself, opening the flap and looking inside. Surprisingly, two fluffy foxes were curled up in there, resting comfortably on your white scarf. For a moment, you thought your foxes had hitched a ride and were coming home with you, but you'd obviously notice that, right? And besides, you did see the stuffed animals in the gift shop.
   "I can't believe I actually bought the stuffed foxes just because I'll miss the real ones," you huffed, blushing slightly, as if the foxes were there and could hear you. But the foxes were not there, you had left them at the lodge, so you settled for stroking the faux fur of the stuffed foxes, the silky smooth strands so lifelike that if you didn't know better, you'd think it was real.
   "Finally," you gasped, face planting into the soft fluffy white of your blanket. You tugged off Tooru's sweater and folded it neatly, walking out and placing it on your counter, ready to return. You rummaged through your bag, that you had dropped to the floor as soon as you opened the door to your room, and tugged out the scarf from underneath your very suspiciously heavy fox plushies. 
   You unwrapped the bundle, pulling all your souvenirs out before bunching up the scarf and throwing it into your laundry basket. You set the book and postcard deck on your bookshelf, next to other various books and collectibles you've found over the years, and grabbed the velvet box, feeling its smooth texture against the palm of your hand. You set it on top of the teal hoodie, before changing out of your jeans and shirt into shorts and an oversized tee, boyfriend style.
   Ugh, a boyfriend. You've been single for way too long.
   "Please let me wake up to a miracle," you prayed, closing your eyes and pulling a serene face, before immediately flopping over and falling asleep.
   Of course, you do not expect to wake up cuddled up to a warm chest while listening to someone messing around in your bathroom, the shutting of cupboards and a phone call drifting from the white door.
   You laid there, relishing the comfort that came from being flush against someone's side, tucked under their arm.
   That's when it hit you that strangers were in your house.
   You bolted up, using your hand to choke back the scream bubbling from your throat, not wanting to let either person know you were awake.
   You looked down, realizing that you had just left the side of a very handsome and very shirtless man, his eyes slowly opening when he felt the absence of your warmth, showing you his beautiful light brown eyes, getting lost in the gold specs like stars.
   You ripped your gaze away from him and moved to swing your legs over the edge of the bed. Unfortunately for you, the mystery man reached up and tugged you back down to him, holding a finger up to his very pink and very kissable and very attract— , wait, no. He held his finger against his lips, shushing you.
   "Wait, he's coming out. Stay beside me."
   Just as you opened your mouth to retaliate, he had already thrown your white covers over the both of you and looped an arm around you, his hand resting at your waist.
   The door to the bathroom opened, and yet another stranger walked out, though it was only him, making the total number of intruders two. He had the same eyes and lips, which were the definition of picture perfect, and he was also lacking in the shirt department. His brows furrowed, and you could already feel the argument starting.
   "What the hell do ya think yer doin'?!"
   "She prefers me."
   "No she doesn't!"
   "It's true, right doll?"
   Both pairs of identical eyes stared at you, and you started panicking under the pressure.
   "I don't even know you! This is literally stranger danger!" you yelled, jumping out of the warmth of both the blanket and the guy in your bed, dodging as his hand reached out to pull you back in.
   You pressed your back against the wall, staying as far away from them as possible. You then realized what you were wearing, and tugged your shirt down even further, mentally slapping yourself for wearing shorts that left almost nothing to imagination with a shirt that reached your thighs, which would put you at a disadvantage if you had to fight or flight.
   The stranger finally got out of your bed and walked next to the other, but it was only once they were next to each other that you realized they were twins, identical twins. Both had dyed hair, but one was blond while the other had grey hair. Their bangs were parted to opposite sides, so they kind of mirrored each other, which made you shiver.
   "Don't ya remember us?"
   "Yeah, you liked me better."
   As they started bickering, as almost all siblings do, you noticed the two sweaters you bought sitting on the edge of the bed. Snatching them and balling them up in either fist, you threw them at them.
   "At least wear these!"
   "Those sweaters would eat me alive, but they fit you so well," you sighed, sitting on your legs on your bed, the two still standing in front of you.
   As they pulled the cloth over their head, you noticed the ribbons tied around their neck as they popped free from the neckline. You felt your heart sink to your stomach when you realized they were grey and yellow ribbons.
   "'s not like we've never slept with you before," yellow ribbon said.
   "You even asked me to be your baby," grey ribbon added, catching his twin's elbow in his hand.
   "I haven't even been in the city for the past week! I was at the lodge forest thing."
   "So were we."
   "Yeah, we came from there."
   "Then how did you end up here?!"
   "We came with ya," yellow ribbon said matter-of-factly while the other shrugged in agreement.
   Your breath got caught in your throat as you flipped the flap of your bookbag over, looking at the empty space in dismay.
   "Where are my foxes?"
   "That's us!" they chorused, identical smirks of pride on their faces, as if being yours was something to show off or brag about. 
   "They were plushies! People cannot be plushies!"
   "No, they were real foxes, and we're real foxes, 'cause they were us."
   "Where the hell would I get real foxes?!"
   They saw the moment you pieced two and two together, your face turning from one of anxious anger to acceptance as you realized what they were trying to say.
   The ribbons. Their colors. The plushies that felt a little too real. That one night in your cabin. The day you fed them in that one cafe.
   They were your foxes.
   "Yup," grey ribbon nodded his head, and you shut your mouth, not wanting to accidentally say what you were thinking again.
   "Why did you come here? You belong in the forest!"
   "No, we're your foxes," they said in unison.
   "No you aren't," you groaned, covering your face with both your hands.
   The two of them had attached themselves to your side, and when you said that, they seemed to get even more annoyed, and so they snuggled even closer to you, an arm slung around your shoulders and around your waist.
   "What are your names?" you finally relented, relaxing in their grip.
   "Miya Osamu," the one with the grey ribbon said, pulling you closer from the waist.
   "Miya Atsumu, the better twin," the one with the yellow ribbon retorted, tugging you back with the arm around your shoulder.
   "Stop pushing me around! We barely know each other!"
   "Can you stop with that already?" Osamu said, though he had no actual anger or malice behind his words.
   "Or do we have to remind you who you belong to?" Atsumu said suggestively, and you braced yourself for whatever mischief he had planned.
   In one moment, you were sitting normally in the middle of your bed. In the next, you were back against your headboard, your head on your pillows. And you became a pillow, as Osamu tucked his face in your neck and Atsumu rested his head on your chest.
   "We're taking a nap together again whether you like it or not," Osamu said decisively, and you could tell that was that, no arguing.
   "At least let me pull those off, it's embarrassing," you complained, your hand drifting up to Atsumu's ribbons.
   "No," he said, catching your hand warningly. Something in his voice made you obey immediately. "That's mine."
   "Well this is mine too!" you replied heatedly, bringing a hand up and cradling Osamu's head against you. But instead of doing anything or acting out like any normal person would, Osamu started purring, a satisfied grin on his face while you had a look of dismay, your cheeks reddening. 
   Atsumu glared at him, moving your hand so your arm was wrapped around him, pulling him closer as well. You got the hint and raised your other hand to run your fingers through his hair, leaving you to deal with two purring fox-shifting idiots.
   "Fine, you're both mine, I guess," you gave up, fighting back a blush and pretending that statement didn't warm your heart as much as it did.
   "And your ours," they chorused happily, and you didn't even try to hide the pink spreading across your cheeks when they rubbed their faces against yours.
   "Okay," you said quietly, accepting the fact that them being yours and you being theirs made you feel something happy and content in your chest, something that was dangerously close to love. If you were like them, you were one hundred percent sure you'd start purring, too.
   I mean, you did say you wanted a boyfriend, and the universe was kind enough to give you more than what you bargained for.
   The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with yellow and red while the blues and purples of night crept closer. The clouds were fluffy and lined with silver, their normal white reflecting pink hues.
   The last rays of sunlight filtered through a sheer peach curtain, coating everything in gold lighting.
   Three people were sleeping soundly on a bed, the white blanket thrown over their tangled legs, breaths even and in sync. Dyed grey hair peeked out from under a chin, and blond hair tickled a collarbone. Natural hair was sprawled out on the white stuffed pillows.
   Osamu opened an eye, before raising his head and pressing a soft kiss to the sleeping beauty's lips.
   And if he raised a finger to his lips? Well, I can't say what happened next, because my lips are sealed.
oh my GOD did this take forever between writing this and school and the fanart of this (which i’ll post later) i took way longer than i normally would
that being said, i hope you still like it <3
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pikapeppa · 4 years
Text
Samson/f!Hawke smut: Hate
The title says it all. 😂 In all seriousness though, I present to you Samson and @schoute ‘s Roman Hawke and their first time having sex. 
Kink warning: some BDSM-ish undertones. Also featuring angst! And feels even though Roman would definitely punch you in the throat for suggesting she has any!
~7000 words. Read on AO3 instead.
**************************
Bullshit, Roman thought. This is all fucking bullshit.
She pushed open the door to the Hanged Man and skulked inside with a scowl. Despite her attempts to be discreet, the noise in the room immediately dimmed, then returned to normal volume — a volume that was enhanced, unfortunately, by murmurs about her. 
“Look, there she is! It’s Hawke!”
“Maker, she looks right pissed.”
“She always looks that way, you idiot.”
“More’n usual though, eh? If I’d come back alive from the deep roads with treasure up to me ears, I think I’d be a sight happier than that.”
Roman sneered. Hang the fucking treasure, she thought. As far as she was concerned, the treasure wasn’t worth the shit that she, Varric, Anders and Isabela had been through during the past few months of being stuck in that ancient thaig. If she was being honest, though, the seemingly-interminable trek through the deep roads wasn’t what was really enraging her.
She didn’t say any of this, though. She didn’t look at or speak to anyone. She made a beeline straight to the bar and sat on the corner stool, then gave the bartender a forbidding don’t-fucking-ask look as she waved him over.
He swallowed visibly as he drew near. “Evening, Hawke. What’ll you—” 
“Whiskey. Neat. Cheapest you’ve got,” Roman said. She pulled a gold royal out of her coin pouch and placed it on the bar. “And keep it coming.” 
The bartender’s eyes widened at the small fortune. “R-right away!” he said, and he snatched the coin from the bar. A moment later, he placed a stein on the bar and poured her a measure of whiskey, then placed the bottle in front of her.
She nodded wordlessly and gulped down the whiskey in two big swallows. It burned on the way down in a bad, shitty-liquor sort of way that would leave her throat sore in the morning, but the abrasive burn suited her mood perfectly.
She poured herself another generous drink, then plonked her elbows on the bar and moodily sipped from her stein. The Hanged Man was as lively as she remembered, half-lit by lantern light and noisy with music and shouting and drunken laughter, and it was… 
Fucking surreal, she thought. That’s what this was. It was surreal that life could go on so unchanged here in Kirkwall, while everything about Roman’s life felt like it had been upended yet again for the umpteenth time. 
In truth, she didn’t even really want to be here. But there was nowhere else for her to go. She didn’t want to go back to Gamlen’s right now; she was fucking sick of her family’s shit. There was Gamlen bitching and whining about not getting a cut of the treasure that Roman had brought back, and Leandra’s passive-aggressive bullshit about Roman being gone so long, and Carver… 
The anger pulsed in her ears at the thought of Carver. She took a deep breath to try and calm herself, then gulped down the rest of her drink and poured another. 
She could go to the Amell mansion now that it officially belonged to her family again. But frankly, she was sick of thinking about the fucking mansion. It was all she’d been thinking about for the past couple of weeks as they made their way back to Kirkwall from the ass-end of nowhere that Bartrand had left them for dead. She’d kept her mind on that mansion, on the fact that that was the reason she’d gone to the fucking deep roads and that she was going to get that fucking mansion back if it killed her. And now that she’d done it, the last thing she wanted was to be anywhere near the place.
She couldn’t go to Gamlen’s and she couldn’t go to the mansion, and she’d be damned before she asked Fenris or Merrill or anyone else for a place to crash for the night. So that left the Hanged Man. As long as she had her bottle of whiskey, she’d be just fine right here, thank you very much. 
She sipped her drink and closed her eyes to try and get a measure of peace, but a second later, someone spoke to her. 
“Hey,” Varric said.
She opened her eyes and glanced at him. “No offense, Varric, but I’m pretty sick of seeing your face.” She turned back to the bar and lifted her stein to her lips. “You’re better off leaving me alone.”
He huffed, impervious as always to her moods, and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “So I guess that’s a no to joining us for a hand of wicked grace?”
She glanced over his shoulder. Merrill, Anders, Isabela, and a handful of other random people were sitting at a table at the back and clearly waiting for Varric’s return.
Roman snorted and turned back to face the bar. “Not fucking likely. Sorry,” she added as an afterthought. It wasn’t Varric’s fault that her family were a bunch of ungrateful assholes. 
He patted her elbow. “No sweat. See you later.” He left her alone once more.
She shook her head slightly and sipped her drink. She’d never understand Varric’s constant ability to be around people — to find comfort in other people’s company. Comfort in the bottom of a bottle, sure. Comfort from being around others? That had never been Roman’s thing. 
Although if she was honest, there was one kind of ‘comfort’ that she wouldn’t mind getting from someone right now. A physical comfort she hadn’t had since long before their trip to the deep roads, and the lack of which was probably not helping her mood. 
And if Roman was being really, really honest with herself, there was only one person she really wanted to get that kind of ‘physical comfort’ from. 
Samson. She hadn’t seen him since a week or so before they’d left for the deep roads. She hadn’t told him she was leaving, because why the fuck would she, but… it had been a while since she’d seen him. Not that she cared how he was doing or anything. Not that she’d been imagining his sarcastic smile or the way he studied his dirty nails when he was making his snarky remarks or anything like that. 
Don’t think about him, she thought. He’s just a dirty beggar from Darktown. He doesn’t matter. He’s nobody. She pushed away the unwelcome thought of Samson’s weary bloodshot eyes and finished off her drink, then poured herself a fourth.
She was staring vacantly at the wall and nursing the dregs of her fourth whiskey when she smelled it: a warm and woody musk, overlaid with the distinct twang of lyrium. At first, she was sure she must be imagining it — conjuring his distinct scent in her mind since it had been so long. A second later, however, she heard his voice.
“I hear congratulations are in order, Lady Hawke,” Samson drawled.
Her heart stopped for a split second, then burst into a gallop. With great care, she shot him a venomous look. “Don’t fucking call me that. And what, now you remember my actual name?”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Bird,” he said casually. He sat on the stool beside her — a bold move, since anyone with half a brain knew to give Roman a wide berth whenever she was in this sort of mood. Which, to be frank, was more often than not.
She sneered at him, then lifted her stein to her lips. “If you’re looking for a handout, go look somewhere else. I’m not in the mood.”
He leaned his elbows on the bar. “Like I’d take a handout from you, anyway. A man’s got his pride.”
She scoffed loudly. “Like hell you have. I’ve given you coin more times than I can count.” 
He chuckled softly — that gritty little heh-heh-heh that never failed to set her nerves on edge while also bringing them sparking to life. “Ah, I guess you’re right,” he said. “Guess I shouldn’t slander the wench who keeps me in the dust.” He leaned toward her with a smirk. “I’d almost think you’re soft for me, Bird.”
She wrinkled her nose and leaned away from him. “Get away from me. You smell.” It didn’t matter that she liked his unwashed-manly-man scent. That wasn’t the point. 
He clicked his tongue and shifted away from her. “Maker’s balls, you’re cranky. Is that how you treat someone who wants to buy you a drink to celebrate your fancy ladyship?”
She glared at him. “I’m not a fucking lady. And how d’you know about that, anyway?” Only this afternoon had she filed the paperwork to reinstate the nobility of the Amell name and to get the mansion back. If she wasn’t already drunk, she’d probably be a lot more pissed that he knew her personal business.
“Ears and eyes, Bird,” Samson said. “People low down hear lots of things from up top.” 
His expression was knowing and sly. Roman rolled her eyes. “You’re full of shit. Especially since I know you’re not here to buy me a drink. You have no coin, remember?”
He grunted an acknowledgement. “Eh. I’ve no coin, it’s true. Guess you’re right.”
She stared flatly at him and waited for him to say more, but when he just sat there staring back at her with his surprisingly pretty grey eyes, she tsked and waved to the bartender. 
“Give me another stein,” she said. 
The bartender placed a stein in front of her, and she poured some whiskey into it and shoved it in Samson’s direction. “Here,” she said roughly. “You’ve got your fucking handout. Happy now?”
“Sure am,” he said. He picked up the stein and tapped it against hers, then took a sip. 
They sat at the bar in silence for a while sipping their drinks, and to Roman’s surprise, she could feel some of the perpetual tension leaving her shoulders. When she got to the bottom of her stein, she shot Samson a resentful look. “Seriously, what the fuck are you doing here?”
“Having a drink,” he said. “What’s it look like I’m doing?”
She shot him a dirty look, then looked away at the wall. Then Samson spoke again. “You were gone a long time, Bird.”
“I know bloody well how long I was gone, all right?” she snapped.
He ignored her tone, as usual. “What happened?” he asked.
She spun toward him. “None of your fucking business!” she barked.
He held up one hand lazily. “All right, all right. Don’t get your knickers in a twist,” he said, and he sipped his drink again.
Roman fumed silently and tapped her fingers on the bar. Then she shot him another venomous glare. “We got trapped in the deep roads, all right? That’s what happened. If you have to know.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Maker’s balls. That must’ve been good.”
“It was shit,” she said bluntly. “The deep roads are shit.”
Samson nodded slowly. “Sorry to hear that. You came back with coin though, eh?”
The anger simmering in her stomach suddenly burst into boil. Before she could stop herself, the anger was pouring out of her mouth in a stream of vitriol. “Is that all you fucking care about?” she yelled. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You heard I came back to town with a bunch of fucking treasure from the deep roads, so you thought you’d come here and leech off of me like you always do?”
Samson stared at her in silence. He looked angry but also oddly calm, and only then did Roman realize she was on her feet and aggressively in his face.
Very close to his face, actually. His nose was a mere couple of inches from hers. She could smell the harsh whiskey and the even harsher lyrium on his breath, and the harsh perfume of it sent a flood of heat through her body.
“Sit down, Bird,” he said, very quietly. 
Her pounding heart thudded even more loudly in her ears. “Don’t you tell me what to do,” she snarled.
His expression didn’t change. “Roman, sit down.”
Roman. He knew her first name. He knew her first name? Nobody except Varric and the others knew her first name, and nobody called her by it. How did Samson know her name?
She stared at him for a moment. Then she sat and belligerently grabbed his drink. “Fuck you,” she said, and she finished his drink before shoving the empty stein back toward him. 
He calmly picked up the bottle of whiskey and poured himself another drink. For another long, tense minute, they sat there in silence as Roman breathed slowly and tried to get her temper — and her libido — back under control. 
Samson eventually spoke again. “What’s got you so pissed then, eh? You’re worse company than usual.”
She took another deep breath. Then, for some reason, she actually told him why she was angry. “While I was trapped in the bloody deep roads, my fucking brother went and joined the Templars.”
Samson lifted an eyebrow, then barked out a laugh. “Fallen in with my lot, has he?”
“They’re not your lot. They threw you out, remember?” Her tone sounded sarcastic to her own ears, and she was too drunk to know if she was trying to be cruel or kind by saying this to him.
He huffed and lifted the stein to his lips. “Thanks a lot, Bird.”
I guess I was being cruel, then, she thought. To her surprise, her gut churned with a twist of guilt. 
She hunched her shoulders. “Don’t fucking pout. You’re better off without them.”
“Am I?” he said archly. “You’re sure about that?”
“Yes,” she said firmly. “They’re… they’re fucking prison guards. Glorified prison guards who think their lyrium addiction is a boon from the Maker. Who doesn’t exist, by the way,” she added vindictively, “but what the fuck do I know.”
Samson smirked. “Better watch your mouth, or someone’ll cut those pretty lips off for speaking ill of the Chantry.”
Pretty lips? she thought vaguely. She grabbed his stein and took another sip before plonking it on the bar once more. “They can bloody well try. They’ll lose more than just their lips if they do.”
He let out a raspy laugh that made her blood simmer. “Ah, Bird. Kirkwall’s a lot more lively now you’re back.”
She snorted in disgust, then idly picked at the red kerchief around her wrist. “Why did the Templars throw you out, anyway?”
He shot her a sideways look. “Maybe that’s none of your business.”
His tone was mocking. Roman tsked and looked away. “Fine. Don’t tell me. I don’t fucking care.”
There was a brief silence as Samson nursed his drink. When his whiskey was gone, he pushed the stein away. “There was this one mage in the Circle,” he said. “Kid named Maddox. Quiet kid, nice, like most of ‘em were. He had a piece here in the city, so I’d bring letters back and forth for them sometimes.” He poured himself another drink. “It was all going fine, you know, wasn’t hurting anyone. But that bitch Meredith disagreed. Called it ‘fraternizing between a Templar and a mage’ and threw me out of the Order, and well… here we are.” He gestured sarcastically at himself.
Roman stared at him, stunned by his tale. “Seriously?” she said. “That’s why you got thrown out? For passing love notes between a mage and some city kid?”
“That’s it, yeah,” Samson said. He shot her a suspicious look. “Why? What did you think I’d done?”
“I… I don’t know,” she said blankly. “Fucked a mage. Raided a lyrium store or something. I don’t fucking know.”
He scowled. “I don’t fuck children or prisoners, Bird. And I was a good little Templar who stuck to my lyrium rations back then. Not like now.” He let out a humourless chuckle. “Nowadays, I’m just a broken old man who’d do just about anything to get a hit of the dust.” 
That thought made her stomach lurch. The thought of Samson debasing himself for a hint of lyrium, all because the fucking Knight-Commander didn’t like him passing notes between a mage and his lover… 
And now Carver had gone to join the Templars. He’d joined that corrupt, fucked-up, power-hungry faction of Chantry assholes that Roman hated so much — that would throw Roman herself into the Circle if they ever found out about her magic. Her own younger brother joining the Templars, willingly giving himself over to get addicted to lyrium like Samson had done…
She swallowed hard, then reached into her coin pouch and grabbed a handful of coin. “Here,” she said, and she slapped it onto the bar in front of him. 
Samson’s face went slack with surprise. He hastily covered the coin — and her hand — with his own hand. “What the fuck d’you think you’re doing?” he hissed.
His palm was callused and warm. She hastily pulled her hand away from him and jerked her chin at the coin. “Take it. I don’t need it.”
He quickly swept the coin off the counter and into his hand. “You can’t go flashing around your coin in ‘ere like that,” he scolded quietly. “You want to get your throat cut on your way home?”
Roman laughed nastily. “They can try. I’ll cut them first.”
Samson lowered his voice even more. “How?” he demanded. “You going to use your filthy blood magic tricks on ‘em?”
“Shut up,” Roman hissed. “Don’t talk about that here!”
“Then don’t go swinging your coin around like you’ve got something to prove,” he retorted.
His bossy tone sparked the ever-present simmer of rage in her belly. She slowly rose to her feet and gave Samson a hard stare. “Stop telling me what to do,” she said.
He glared at her, uncowed. “Then stop acting like a stupid bitch without a brain in her head.”
She took a threatening step closer to him. “Fuck you, Samson,” she gritted.
To her surprise, he leaned toward her until his shoulder was almost brushing her chest. “Make me, Bird,” he whispered harshly.
Suddenly, it felt as though the bottom had dropped out of her stomach, leaving her dizzy and disoriented and thrumming with unfettered rage — a heated sort of rage that was reaching into her palms and pounding in her ears and pulsing between her legs. 
She stared furiously into his bloodshot yet oddly clear grey eyes. Her breaths were sharp and angry in her ears, breaths that became increasingly sharp as her lungs were filled with his warm and earthy scent. 
She shoved away from the bar and stormed toward the door, stumbling slightly as she did, then burst into the relative cool of Lowtown’s nighttime air. She started striding toward… fuck, she had no idea where she was going. All she knew was that he hated Samson. She fucking hated him, with his obnoxious little laugh and his mage sympathies and the way he always warned her to be careful with her fucking blood magic like he gave a shit what could happen if she was caught–
A hand grabbed her arm, and she instinctively spun toward her assailant and swung at them. “Don’t fucking touch me!” she yelled. 
“Shut your mouth,” Samson snapped. He grabbed her waist and shoved her toward a nearby alley. 
She struggled in his grip, surprised and turned on by how strong he was. Wait, turned on? No she wasn’t, she wasn’t turned on. She fucking hated him. “Let go of me,” she railed, and she twisted her arm. “Let me go–”
He roughly shoved her into the alley and penned her against the wall with his body. “Shut up, Bird,” he hissed, and he covered her mouth with his hand. 
His hand was hot and callused against her lips, and the thrumming heat in her blood surged to a dizzying degree. Incensed by his grip on her mouth, she bit his hand.
His face twisted in a grimace of pain, but he didn’t let her go. “Listen,” he hissed.
For a second, she stopped struggling and listened, and she immediately heard what had prompted his behaviour: the sound of three male voices in the street, discussing her. 
“She’s got enough coin to throw down on the bar like that, she’s got enough for all of us. We’ll just beat her, take it and go.”
“You got shit for brains or something? We can’t leave Hawke alive. That bitch has friends in the Viscount’s Keep. She’s friends with that Tethras asshole, and you know that he knows people in the Carta. We’ve got to kill her and get rid of the body.”
“Kill Hawke? You know she’s a mage, right?”
“Nug shit. That’s a fucking rumour.”
“Look, who cares if she’s a mage? Just means she’s even easier to beat up. Mages got weak bodies, see? And I don’t know ‘bout you, but I didn’t see no staff on her. Let’s just kill her, take her coin and be done.”
The rage surged again in Roman’s ears, and her blood hummed in the way it always did when violence was on the horizon. Let them try, she thought. Let them fucking try, I dare them. She punched Samson in the belly so he’d let her go. 
He grunted softly, but instead of releasing her, he grabbed her wrist and pinned it firmly against the wall, then stepped closer until she was squished between his body and the wall.
Roman stopped breathing. His body against hers was wiry and hard and — oh fuck, Maker’s fucking balls, there was one part of him that was particularly hard, and it was pressing into her belly, just above the waistband of her knee-length skirt.
He pressed his lips to her ear. “You’re not fighting them tonight, Bird,” he whispered harshly. “They’re too damned big, and you’re too damned drunk.”
His whisper sent a shiver down her spine. She twisted her face in his grip, desperate to retort that she wasn’t too fucking drunk and that she wasn’t going to let those assholes get away with talking shit about her, but Samson’s grip on her face was implacable. 
With some difficulty, she bit his palm again, and when that only prompted another pained grunt, she licked his palm. 
He exhaled against her ear. “Bloody Maker’s balls,” he breathed. “Give it a rest, will you?” 
His voice had a certain growl to it now, a growl that echoed his earlier taunt to ‘make me’... and suddenly she was lightheaded, her blood humming with rage and unleashed power, pounding an angry beat in her ears and her throat and between her legs where she wanted that thick hardness of his to go. 
She licked his palm again. He groaned quietly against her ear, and her eyes fluttered shut. The three thugs were still talking distantly, but Roman didn’t hear them; all she could hear was Samson breathing in her ear, and all she could think about was the ridge of his cock against her belly and the salt of his hand on her tongue… 
She twisted her hips and scratched his chest with her free hand, and Samson grunted in her ear. “You fucking wildcat,” he snarled. “Would you quit until they’re gone?”
She shook her head as much as she could and scratched his chest again, wishing that she was able to score his skin directly instead of scraping at him through his shirt. Then he suddenly bit her neck just below her ear. 
She gasped into his palm. A rush of warmth bloomed between her legs, and she realized with a jolt how wet she was. 
Samson bit her again, then bit the side of her ear. “You get what you give, Bird,” he whispered. “Now stand bloody well still.”
Never, she thought viciously. She scratched him and tried to pull her wrist from his grip and curled her hips toward his cock, and Samson just stood there with his wiry body shoved against her and his mouth panting hotly against her neck and his surprisingly strong hands holding her in place, and all the while the thugs were standing in the street discussing the best way to kill her. 
I hate them, she raged internally. I hate those assholes, and I hate this city, and I really, really fucking hate Samson. She twisted and struggled, and the eagerness pooled through her smallclothes to paint the inner margins of her thighs, and she was so distracted by how much she hated and wanted him that she didn’t notice when the thugs went away. 
When Samson suddenly released her and stepped back, she gasped in a breath and slumped back against the wall. She roughly wiped her mouth and glared viciously at him, only to find him glaring back at her.
His mouth was twisted in a sneer, and his chest was heaving with angry breaths. “What’s your bloody problem?” he demanded. “I was only trying to help you.”
“Well, don’t,” she snapped. “I can look after myself.”
“Not tonight, you couldn’t ‘ave,” he retorted.
“You don’t fucking know me,” she spat. “Don’t try to save me. You don’t — you don’t know me!”
He folded his arms. “I know you gave me a hell of a lot of coin just now for no good reason. Why’d you do that?”
For some reason, her heart twisted painfully. The coin was nothing. It was the least that he deserved. He’d been thrown out on his own to cope with his lyrium addiction just for passing love letters, and the more she thought about it, the more it made her chest hurt. 
And the more her chest hurt, the more angry she felt. 
“I hate you,” she spat.
His lips melted into a sly smirk, even though the anger remained in the crease of his eyebrows. “That’s not what that skinny little body of yours is saying.”
Her skinny little body pulsed hotly in response to his knowing smirk, and this only made her angrier still. “Fuck you,” she hissed. “Fuck you and fuck off, and – just – fuck you.” 
He raised his eyebrows and took a small step closer to her, and her body thrilled at his nearness. Then he took another tempting step closer. “Try again, Bird,” he drawled. 
She belligerently lifted her chin. “Fuck. You,” she said, very deliberately. 
His smile widened, and he chuckled. Then he planted one hand on the wall beside her head and slid his other hand up the inside of her thigh. 
Her lips fell open on a shocked inhale. Then his fingers were lightly petting her through her smalls, and Roman couldn’t help herself: she rocked her hips helplessly toward his hand, suddenly and terribly desperate for the heat of his hand directly against her skin. 
He leaned in close and brushed his lips over her ear. “This doesn’t feel like you hate me, Bird.” 
“Yes I do,” she gasped. “I hate you, I fucking – oh fuck!” She broke off with a moan; his fingers were pulling the crotch of her smallclothes to the side, and when he pressed his finger directly into her pussy, the pleasure was so acute that it forced her eyes shut. 
She leaned her head back against the wall and thrust her hips toward his hand, and Samson grunted against her ear. “You’re a nasty wildcat, you know that?” he whispered. “Trying to fight me off when this is what you were really gagging for.”
She shook her head in a stupid pointless denial, and Samson bit her neck, sending another bone-melting thrill between her legs. “No?” he murmured. “You don’t want this? I should stop then, shouldn’t I?” He started pulling his hand out of her skirt.
Roman grabbed his hand. “No,” she blurted. “Don’t you dare stop, you asshole.” 
He smiled and didn’t move his hand. “Or what? What will the rich and fancy Lady Hawke do if I don’t finish ‘er off?”
“I’ll… I’ll bite your fucking finger off,” she threatened. It was a childish threat and Roman knew it, and unfortunately Samson did too; his smile widened into something wicked and slightly vindictive, and he pulled his hand out of her skirt entirely.
Riled and enraged and horribly, desperately incomplete, Roman mewled – actually made a needy sound like a cat in heat. Samson exhaled heavily, then tipped her chin up with the hand that had been in her skirt. “Say it then,” he told her. “Say it, and I’ll do what you want.”
She breathed shallowly and glared at him. His fingers carried her scent — the scent of how much she needed him, whether she wanted to admit it or not, and she really did not want to admit it.
She ignored the throbbing pulse of her clit and sneered at him. “Fuck you.”
He shook his head. “Try again, pretty Bird.”
She curled her lip. She was no one’s pretty bird, especially not his. “Fuck you,” she snarled. 
He stepped very close to her and pressed his hips into her belly. “Try again,” he whispered. 
Maker’s balls, his cock against her belly, the scent of her own desperation on his hand, the sly smile on his sallow face… 
At long last, Roman finally gave in. “Fuck me,” she blurted. 
His face lit up, then twisted into an obnoxiously satisfied smile. “All right then,” he said. A second later, his hand was inside of her skirt and he was pulling her smallclothes down and fuck, fuck, he was kneeling at her feet to drag her smalls down to her ankles. Then he was shoving up her skirt and oh fuck, oh Maker’s balls, he was pushing her legs apart and she hadn’t expected this–
Samson ran his tongue between her legs, and a shiver of pleasure made her entire body twitch. She slammed her head back against the wall and gasped. Then he was stroking her clit with long laps of his tongue, and Roman couldn’t breathe. 
She couldn’t breathe. In this dim and dank alley, she could barely even see, but none of that mattered. All she could do was feel: feel the wet heat of his tongue sliding into her folds and piercing through the lust-slicked flesh to lave her swollen bud. All she cared about was the feeling that his tongue was lifting between her legs, this unbelievable hum of pleasure the likes of which she hadn’t felt in months, too many months — too many months during which she’d thought about Samson and his hideous raspy laugh and his awful smirking mouth, and how much she absolutely, completely, utterly hated him…
He gently tugged her clit between his lips, and her climax struck so suddenly that it took her by surprise. Her knees buckled and her fingers scrabbled against the wall for purchase, and when Samson’s hand snapped up to grip her hip, she convulsively grabbed his hand and stared unseeingly at the opposite wall, her mind rendered to unthinking slag by the waves of pleasure that were crashing through her body.
Supported by his hand on her hip, she shuddered and tried to drag in a breath through the rapture, but the pleasure was striking all the way up to her throat, and she couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t until the pulsing of pleasure began to wane that she was able to pull in a lungful of air. 
She held her breath for a second, then released it in a moan. “You’re an asshole,” she breathed. “Now fuck me already.” 
He scoffed and rose to his feet. “Is that how you thank the man who made you come so hard you almost fell down?”
His base words struck a fresh bolt of desire in her blood. “I did not. And it wasn’t that good,” she lied. 
“That hurts, Bird,” he said dryly. “You can be a real bitch sometimes.”
“Well, you can be a real fucking dick,” she retorted. She hooked her fingers into the waistband of his pants and pulled him closer, then started roughly unbuckling his belt.
He laughed, and there was something about the quality of his laugh that made something squeeze deep inside her core. “Guess we’re a good match, then,” he said.
“Shut up,” she snapped. She ripped open his trousers and pulled out his cock, then stroked it firmly with her fist. 
He grunted and thrust into her hand. Satisfied, Roman released him and started to turn around so he could fuck her from behind, but he grabbed her arm and shoved her back against the wall once more. 
“What the fu–” She broke off with a gasp; his hand was at her throat and pressing her back into the wall.
He shoved her skirt up with his other hand and stepped closer. “Lift your leg, Bird,” he gritted. “Get up on your toes.” 
His growling commands, his hand at her throat, the tantalizing brush of his cock against her belly: it was too tempting, too overwhelmingly good, and she eagerly lifted her left leg. “Don’t fucking tell me what to do,” she panted.
He released her throat and hooked his arm beneath her left knee to spread her wide, then firmly gripped her waist. “If you don’t like it, maybe you shouldn’t listen so well, Bird,” he grunted. He bent his knees slightly, then thrust up into her in a swift hard stroke.
Stars burst behind her eyes, and a guttural cry burst from her throat. Samson groaned, then pressed his forehead to hers and pumped his hips, driving his cock deep inside of her at a nearly-vertical angle that was making her deepest inner muscles quake. 
Roman gasped and whimpered, distantly aware that she shouldn’t be making this much noise but unable to stop the sounds from leaving her throat as Samson fucked her hard and deep. The angle of his cock, the rhythm of it and the familiar lyrium tang of his breath and the manly musk of his body: all of it was conspiring to bring her toward another climax that threatened to be even stronger and more mind-melting than the first. 
Samson thrust into her. “Come on, Bird,” he grunted. “Come for me so I can bend you over and fuck you from behind.”
Yes, she thought deliriously. The thought of him pushing her face-first against the wall and taking her from behind was so good, so fucking hot, it was what she wanted, just as much as she wanted his hard thick cock driving into her right now to bring her higher, just a little higher, oh fucking fuck yes–
Her climax exploded from her core through her whole body, from her throat all the way down to her toes. She cried out as she came, and Samson sealed his lips over hers in a kiss. 
She jolted, shocked by his kiss and even more shocked when he delved his tongue smoothly into her mouth, but the shock wasn’t enough to stop the orgasm from ratcheting through her blood. She permitted his kiss, permitted the slide of his lips and the rasp of his stubble across her chin, and when her orgasm began to ebb, she bit his tongue.
He gasped in pain and stumbled back, pulling his cock free from her body in the process. He lifted a hand to his mouth, then spat a blood-tinged gobbet on the ground and glared at her. “What the fuck, Bird?” he demanded.
“Don’t kiss me,” she snapped. 
His face twisted with frustration. “What is your problem? What do you want from me?”
He sounded genuinely frustrated, and for a second, Roman’s gut twisted. Because that was the question, wasn’t it? What did she want from him? 
Fuck this, she thought, and she ruthlessly shoved the troubling thought aside. “I want you to fuck me hard from behind like you said,” she told him. She raised her eyebrows in challenge. “Or was that all talk?”
His face twisted with anger. “Fine,” he said. “Fine. That’s what you want, is it? Fine.” He stepped forward and grabbed her hips, then roughly turned her around and pushed her against the wall. 
She gasped with excitement and flattened her palms on the cool bricks. Then Samson was pulling her hips back to bend her slightly at the waist, and Roman eagerly arched her spine to take him. 
“Fine,” he grunted, and he slammed himself deep inside of her. “You want me to just fuck you hard like nothing matters, then that’s what you get.” 
“Yes,” she gasped. Maker’s balls, yes, that was exactly what she wanted. 
He slammed into her again. “You want me to shove myself inside of you and just — just come inside of you like there’s nothing else in the bloody world that matters,” he panted. “Is that it?”
“Yes!” she yelped. 
He drove into her again and again. “You want me to pound you into this wall and fill you up with my come so you can feel something good, eh?”
“Fucking fuck, yes!” she cried.
“Good,” Samson grunted. “That’s good, Bird. Because that’s what I want, too.” He placed one hand between her shoulder blades and pulled her hips back, then slammed into her in a furious rhythm.
Roman closed her eyes and gasped raggedly for breath. He was fucking her so hard now that his hips were meeting her ass with the rough smack of skin-on-skin. In the space of a few short minutes, his thrusting cock was filling her up so thoroughly that Roman was almost mindless with bliss, as though she’d been hypnotized by the careful rhythmic slam of his cock inside her body. 
He gasped and dug his fingers into her hips, then shuddered and burst inside of her, and Roman let out a long relaxed sigh. When his body stilled, his grip on her hips loosened, and he slowly pulled out of her. A second later, she felt the distinct warmth of his seed escaping her still-tingling pussy and trailing hotly down the inside of her leg. 
Slowly and leisurely, she straightened up and turned around, then leaned back against the wall in total exhaustion. Without looking at Samson, she untied the crimson kerchief around her wrist. She usually carried a kerchief to staunch and clean the wounds she got from doing blood magic, but that wasn’t what she’d be using it for tonight. 
She reached between her legs and began mopping herself up, and only then did she look at Samson. His cock was tucked away and his trousers back in place, and he was frowning at her.
She scowled and dropped her gaze to her mopping hand. “What?” 
“You all right, Bird?” he asked.
His tone was gentle — unnervingly gentle. “I’m fine,” she said curtly. She finished wiping the insides of her thighs, then pulled her smallclothes up. She adjusted her skirt and stepped toward the mouth of the alley, but Samson took hold of her arm.
She pulled her arm away. “Don’t,” she snapped. 
He released her and tucked his hands in his pockets. “Was this a one-time thing or what?” he asked.
Her belly flipped. Did he want it to be more than a one-time thing? Did she want it to become more than a one-time thing? Her body was still tingling from the delicious friction of his cock and her body felt looser than it had in… fuck, probably since she’d moved here. Maybe longer, even. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this relaxed.
But even as she realized this, her shoulders started to tense again. This had been a good fuck, but she didn’t want it to become a regular thing. If it became a regular thing, Samson would think that she liked him, and she couldn’t let him think that. 
She sneered at him, then shoved her soiled kerchief into his hand. “If I get a rash from you, I’ll come for you and cut your cock off.” She started to push past him, but he stepped in front of her. 
She wilted. “What the fuck do you want?” she demanded. 
“This wasn’t for the coin, was it?” he said. 
She stared at him. “What?” she said dumbly. What coin was he talking about? 
Then she remembered — the coin she’d given him at the Hanged Man. She’d almost forgotten about that. “No,” she blurted. “For fuck’s sake, no. What kind of asshole do you take me for?” 
His face cleared slightly, but he was still frowning. “Why me, then?” 
She stared at him speechlessly for a second; the genuine bemusement in his question made something in her chest ache. Samson had described himself as broken, a broken man who was just living out his remaining shame-filled years in a haze of low-grade lyrium and resentment. But that wasn’t what Roman saw. 
She saw someone who’d been punished too many times for his good intentions. Someone who was jaded as hell, but still somehow surviving. Someone who wanted to help others, but had been stepped on too many times for the benefits to outweigh the costs. When Roman looked at Samson, she didn’t see a broken man. She saw a man who’d been kicked down more times than he deserved, but was still surviving with all the strength that his sarcasm and his wits could give him, and… damn it, she didn’t want to like him, but she did. 
And the sheer fact that she liked him —  that she had such a huge fucking vulnerability — was enough to make her hate him.
She shoved him aside. “Fuck off, Samson,” she said. And without looking back, she stormed out of the alley and back into the dark streets of Lowtown.
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samwritesforyou · 4 years
Text
ARMY ZIP drabbles
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JOURNEY
you and joon have been pretty close friends since you first came to this new highschool. your family has been moving around a lot, so you never stayed long in any schools, until this one.
your mom eventually got to know namjoon’s mother and they became friends as well.
there were always some activities for your class, and one day it was a trip for the whole day, where teachers took all of you to the place that was very similar to some kind of jungle.
it was no surprise to find this type of  surroundings in australia, so nobody was really super stoked by it.
but the exciting part was, that your main partner for the day was joon, and together you’d get lost, just enjoying each other’s company.
to avoid punishment, joon took the situation under his control and called the teacher in charge, bluntly lying about the fact that you two have gone home already. you two didn’t mind spending more time together, especially in this beautiful scenery.
after all you’d find your way out of there and joon would walk you home from the bus station, because it already got dark, and he would give you his grey jacket, because you said under your breath a silent, “how much colder can it be..”
your mom was waiting for you on the porch already - pretty mad - and joon took all the blame on himself, apologising and saying that you two got lost because of him.. she actually forgave the both of you and even invited joon to stay for a cup of tea.
the whole time beside the dinner table you couldn’t take your eyes off him, and he did the same, captivating your eyes with his..
in the hall you were just simply talking about how much fun the whole day was and you both ended up in a warm hug towards the end of your conversation.
since you’re both still underage, your mom makes a firm statement that she will drive namjoon to his own home and as you waved him goodbye you were smiling, because.. damn, he forgot to take his jacket back from you. and you couldn’t help yourself but realise that it smelled just exactly like him.. like home.
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PERFECT
yoongi was this perfect friend. you didn’t know him for too long, but it didn’t matter. your personalities clicked and you started to spend a lot of time together.
he was the best baseball player in the whole school and you were fortunate enough to always be by his side, whenever some victory happened.
but what you missed on - in the early stages of your friendship - were the losses, the bad things that happened.
one day you were just passing by the slightly opened door of the changing rooms, when you heard a slight whimper.
you immediately stopped and carefully peeked through the crack, trying to inspect who’s inside.
you saw light hair and a small posture, crouched on the floor near the lockers, shuddering their shoulders, with arms wrapped around their knees, as they desperately tried to hide the sounds that sometimes escaped their lips.
it didn’t take you long to realise who it was..
“yoongi?..” you called, softly, opening the door further and making your way inside.
“i fucked it up.. i fucked it all up,” was all he said, burying his head even tighter to his knees.
so he wasn’t perfect, after all, huh? everyone kept painting yoongi as this cold and professional kid, but they just never got to see the more emotional and vulnerable side of him.
perhaps he didn’t let them see it.
didn’t want them to see it.
but he let you. and when you dropped down on the floor next to him, consoling him and patting his hair, he let you.
when you leaned towards him, he started to cry even harder, letting his emotions out, and finally felt how it was to be truly supported by someone.
that’s what true friends do, right? being here for each other in good and bad times.
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ZOMBIE
it was the end of it all. the world has gone insane since last week, when a massive zombie virus broke out... somehow.. to the whole world.
Nobody knows exactly what or how it happened, but even though everyone was fairly “educated” on the apocalypse matter from all the movies and books, loads of people were still getting turned on a daily basis.
in other words, it was terrifying, and not as adventurous as in the fiction.
you were fortunate enough to find yourself, after days on the road, in the abandoned house, still filled with some leftover foods around.
you just did your evening routine and came back to your “room”, where you stood by a small window, looking out and trying to concentrate your attention on the lightest of sounds.
and you finally heard it. a zombie was approaching from the hallway, their grunting clear as day for your careful hearing.
you had no weapon, no help around..
you didn’t know exactly what was your plan, but.. something will have to do.
you grabbed the nearest brick into your palm and squeezed hard, getting nervous.
the undead person already came into the view, feeling your presence and moving in your direction.
when there were only a few meters between the two of you, the gunshot blazed through the air.
the body fell to the floor and you saw a man standing in the hallway, rifle in his strong hands.
“hey.. you okay?” a man said, fixing his freshly dyed purple hair.
“yeah..”
“good. i think you could use a friend in this apocalypse,” a man smirked and gave you a bag with some food, by this making a peace pact between you.
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STREET
hoseok was an international student from korea, who was studying art and dancing majors.
you were friends for some time already, but both of you never had time to actually hang out outside of the school grounds.
you were into filmmaking and your study hours were crazy, to say the least.
but finally, summer holidays were approaching. you didn’t make any plans, because most of your friends went travelling, and your buddies from the dorms were supposed to leave to go back to their lovely families.. you just didn’t have that.
one of the final days of the semester before the big break, you were just wandering around the campus, finally having nothing to do, after months of hard work..
and suddenly your phone rang. it startled you, on the screen showing “hoseok” with his number underneath it.
you picked it up, of course.
“hey, are you in town?” you heard an exciting tone on the other end.
“yes, actually..”
“wanna hang out? come to that park near the school, in 20 minutes?”
and it was settled. when you dragged your ass over there, you came perfectly on time and hoseok was already waiting for you, sitting on top of the many big cans that were laying around here.
he simply handed you the graffiti colour. you couldn’t help yourself but to make a surprised expression, but took the paint anyways.
“let’s create something!” he exclaimed, jumping to his feet and started to dance around, filling the walls with some slogans and pictures of all sorts.
he noticed you hesitating at first, and gently put his elegant hand on your back.
“heyy,  don’t be afraid, it’s my first time with this kind of medium too! i just figured we could do something for the first time together and not worry about the result that much, most important thing is just having fun, isnt it?” he smiled at you warmly, and you just couldn’t help it and put your arm towards the wall, spraying his name on it.
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YOUNG
it was one of those days, when everything seems quiet, slow and kind of lazy.. it was just another weekend in your small city, far far away from all the excitement of the bigger metropolis.
you were fortunate enough to meet one of the closest people in your life here, though.
you came over to jimin’s place, as you have previously agreed on.
he made you some tea. kettle boiled in the silence of his apartment and you smiled at each other, when he picked your favourite kind.
you knew each other well. and jimin knew even better about your current struggles, as of the problem that you’re trying to become a tattoo artist, but it wasn’t quite working out yet.
he was always trying to help and make things better.
so when you ended up in his room, he took out a marker from his pencil-case and showed it to you, excitedly.
“what should i do with it?” you chuckled, but sadness still prevailed on your face.
“draw on me,” he simply said and put the tool firmly into your hand, “imagine i’m the canvas and you’re about to ink my skin.”
“okay..” it seemed a little weird and embarrassing at first, but after a while you both got fully into it and your passion literally blossomed in front of his eyes and reflected there as beautiful sparkles.
“youth?..” he asked, looking at his arm, with a genuine warm smile.
“youth. let’s never forget about this. when we’re still young, you know?” you smiled and then jimin started laughing with his angelic voice.
“i like it! write more, please..”
you ended up writing things like “i  me”, “happy song :)” and a big “nevermind” in some really rough, but pretty font on his ribs.
“i really like this one..” jimin said, truly amazed.
and a few years later, after you’ve finally made it out of the small town and owned your own tattoo studio, jimin came with a request of nevermind on his ribs.
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MAFIA
it was really risky to try and accomplish this mission and you knew it.
there were literally myths and stories going around this mafia, especially their leader.
nobody never described how he looked, just that he was ruthless and never spared their enemies.
all the other heads of gangs had exceptions for some people, but not him.
and when you were caught, illegally transporting some dangerous.. “items” by one of his people, you were immediately captured. this wasn’t supposed to happen and now you knew your fate.
you were held hostage for some days, but now you’re finally on the way to meet the master head behind all of this.
you were pushed into this luxurious room, doors closing loudly behind you. but it was empty..
after the uncomfortable silence the backdoor of this strange place opened and you saw him come in.
his expression was grim and intimidating, but changed in a heartbeat when your eyes met.
“taehyung?..” your voice cracked in between the pronunciation of his name and you were just.. astounded.
you were close friends until last two years, because you suddenly lost contact with each other.
“are you okay?” he immediately rushed to you, uncuffed your hands and wrapped you in a warm hug, dropping his stern facade this instant. in that second all your memories from when you were younger and just having fun together popped up in your head and you couldn’t help but only hug him tighter.
when you pulled away after a while, you cupped his cheeks with your hands and stared into his eyes, “how the fuck did you get into all of this mess?”
you just wanted him to stay this innocent and pure boy you always knew..
“i should ask you the same thing then,” he frowned his brows and pouted.
“i guess we’ll have to figure it out somehow..” you turned your head towards the doors, that slowly clicked as someone was clearly ears dropping you.
“now it’s only you and me, partner.”
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MESSENGER
you were just an ice cream truck worker, giving out yet another frozen treat to a happy family in front of your face. ugh. you didn’t like your job one bit. but what can you do in summer, when you don’t have enough money from your usual income like drawing or writing articles, right? next second you look up from your phone and another customer is standing there. “can i get some ice, please? just ice,” he says firmly and tries to keep up a smile, but it breaks a few times, because the man looks genuinely injured on the side of his head. “are you sure? you should call a doctor for that-“ you can’t even finish your sentence when he just pulls his hand into the ice-cubes container himself and pushes it against his temple, part of the ice melting and some of it falling down. suddenly he’s checking his phone and then frantically looks around, not loosing his cool image. then his eyes dart back at you and he says, “do you think i can hide behind the truck? you’d still stand there so its not suspicious that the truck is here by itself?” he really seemed to be in a hurry, so you just nodded your head yes and he was already crouching next to you, in a still position. soon a group of bulky men appeared, coming to you and asking if you havent seen a younger guy with longer brown hair, tattoos and piercings. you have, and he has been hiding just next to your legs. “no, i’m sorry,” you said with an innocent smile and eventually they went away. when the air was clear, the man finally stepped away and most adorable smile appeared on his face. he was holding a small transparent package, full of white crystals. from all the happiness he kissed the package and then patted you a little awkwardly on the shoulder. “thank you so much for covering me. i’m jeongguk, by the way,” he stretched his tattooed arm towards you and you shook hands. “can i get an ice cream now?” he said, a little bit embarrassed, as he stood in front of the truck now, like a normal customer.
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nad-zeta · 4 years
Note
hope im writing right;; match-up for ikesen, please? im a libra (scorpio moon, virgo venus) who prefer to be in hufflepuff. so, im an optimistic person with black humour and head half in the cloud. love make art but cant sing because my voice is really bad, ugh. sometimes i can literally disappear to find a balance in my emotions, because i dont wanna bother my friends. if i was in game, id be a wandering warrior with some kind of wind magic. im really interested in your work, wish you luck uwu
Hi, there love! Thank you so much for the request! I hope you have a good day today and I hope u enjoy the matchup!
So I match you with.................. Kennyo
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So at first, I matched you with Mitsunari, lol I even wrote a whole matchup but then last minute changed my mind ^_^
The first time you meet Kennyo was when you literally ran into him in the forest in an attempt to get away from Nobunaga and his crew. You ran as fast as your legs could carry you. Only to slam into what felt like a brick wall; you stumbled backward, and before you hit the ground, two strong arms gently cradled you and brought you back to an upright position. You were out of breath and your eyes darting everywhere. You were on high alert. Kennyo softly traced the lines on your face to try and calm you down, almost like you would a kitten. You looked into those smoky grey eyes staring at you with concern. You managed to calm down a little and whispered a small thank you. You heard the sound of horses running in the distance, and you knew they were now chasing you. You took one last look at the man before scurrying off again.
The Oda’s weren’t all that bad, your first impression of the strange lot may have been a bit hasty, as you have actually come to enjoy this mixed bag of characters. Although they were somewhat overwhelming at times. Especially today. Your emotions were all over the place, and you felt like you needed to get away and find your balance again. You told Hideyoshi that you were going to walk around the garden to clear your head. You walked the vast garden route, head entirely in the clouds. You were wandering around aimlessly. You had found an overgrown path leading you further away from the castle. You couldn’t help but smile and think about Robert Frost's poem “The Road Not Taken.” You wondered down the road taking in the beautiful scenery all around you
You spotted a small injured cat on your path; the poor thing looked like a stray that lost a battle for food with the other wild animals in the area. You crouched down to get a better look while looking around for some help. You signed; the cat would have to hang on until you were back at the castle so that Ieyasu could tend to it. Your kind of like the idea of having the poor thing as a pet. Just then, a big bear of a man appeared. You were slightly started and fell back to land on your rear. The monk peered into your eyes. “Are you okay young miss, it wasn’t my intention to frighten you.” You looked up at him and smiled. You examined his face; he had a big scar stretching across it. You could see he had gone through many a struggle in his life, yet he had a sense of calm kindness about him. He crouched down and examined the cat. Of course, you scooted closer and explained you were planning to take the little guy back and care for it. Kennyo then reached in his sleeve and pulled out some medical supplies and started treating the cat in front of you. You watched his skilled hands apply salve to the wounds and wrap them up good as new. He then looked back up at you and tried to give you his scariest face. “Run along back home, little miss, and never forget demons roam these woods at night.”  You picked up the little cat, thanked him, and started running back home, you stopped halfway and looked back to take one quick glance only to see no one there.
You had been missing for hours, and the sun was now dipping below the horizon, mama Yoshi was frantically searching the garden for you. When all of a sudden, you reappeared from the tree lines carrying the little cat. Hideyoshi breathed a sigh of relief and gave you a small lecture. Everyone accepted your new little pet with open arms. The kitten was treated like royalty, Masamune cooked for it, Ieyasu gave you medical supplies to care for it, Mitsuhide gave you a small collar with an attached bell, and Mitsunari and Hideyoshi gave the little kitten the softest fluffiest bed to sleep in. And of course, Nobunaga didn’t forget to spoil his luck charms new kitten; he too brought the kitten some toys to keep it entertained. At times you couldn't help but let your mind wander back to the monk that had helped you. After all, it was thanks to him treating the little cat on the spot that it managed to survive your trip back home.
The next day you left again to wonder the same path, secretly hoping to run into the monk once more to thank him and show off how well the little kitten was doing. That’s when all of a sudden, your kitten jumped out of your arms and started running in some random direction. You chased him curious to see where it was leading you to. You stopped when a small cabin came into view. You slowly made you way up to the door; your little kitten was now scratching at the door as if to try and open it. The door swung open, and you locked eyes with the very man you were looking for. He was shocked. What were you doing here, and how did you even find his hideout? He tried to scare you off to no avail; you low key though he was just joking. You did have a slightly dark sense of humor, so the more he tried to intimidate you, the darker your jokes got. Just who the hell was this woman. Eventually, he relented and let you into his little home.
You sat down and made yourself at home. Kennyo offered you some tea and rice pudding. You graciously accepted hearing him say something under his breath about how hopelessly optimistic and naïve you were. You couldn’t help but smile at this strange monk. The two of you leisurely sat and chatted. You were surprised at all the different types of animals he cared for, each looking like they had seen better days. Even your kitten had made a new friend with Kennyo’s every own grey cat. Kennyo couldn’t figure out why he was so attracted to you, why he had invited you into his home, and why on earth he had offered you tea. He was a monster, and you should fear him, except here you are sipping tea in his home without a care in the world. When it was time for you to leave you scooped up your little cat promising to visit again so it could play with his new friend, you waved Kennyo goodbye and left. Kennyo bid you farewell while wearing the most gentle soft smile, unbeknown to him. You had visited him many times since. Every time bringing some kind of sweet treats to share and have with your tea. The more you visited the more Kennyo seemed to enjoy your company and open up a little.
Kennyo never thought he had any humanity left in him until meeting you. Every visit seemed to soften and melt his stone-cold icy heart. Before he knew it, he was utterly in love with you. He loved your dark humor; he loved your vast imagination, and he loved that you respected his alone time as well. Your optimism and gentle nature even managed to heal the hole in his heart and soul. 
He slowly returned to the tender, soft-hearted monk he once was, also rebuilding the bridge of friendship with his old friend Shingen. Of course, he still dislikes Nobunaga, but that never affected your relationship. You eventually, with Dad Nobunaga and Mom Hideyoshi’s permission, moved into the small cabin with Kennyo. The two of you can often be found wandering around the forest together, hand in hand, heads in the clouds, and helping anyone or anything in need. He loves nothing more than to lay with his head on your lap, as you gently play with his hair and sing to him. Even when you think your voice is terrible, he absolutely loves it! He has now dedicated his like to the optimistic angel who swooped in and saved him from himself. And will love you to the ends of the earth and back. 
Other potential matches................Mitsunari 
I hope you enjoyed it dear! And I hope you are staying safe and well!
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nekojitachan · 4 years
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AFTG fic - Medicine
This is for @sig66, another owed fic from the @aftgremix fic challenge where she guessed correctly which one was mine. She asked for a Clouds fic, so here you go! I hope you like it.
Hmm, think this is pretty safe here, other than the usual Hatford warnings?
*******
Andrew stood still while Neil fussed with the collar of his shirt. “I don’t know why it won’t – ah, there it is.” He smiled as he smoothed his hands over Andrew’s shoulders then stepped back. “You look great.” There was a slight roughness to his voice, a lingering to his gaze as he looked Andrew up and down, and if Nicky and Erik weren’t out in the living room….
Telling his damn hormones to calm down, Andrew clicked his tongue as he reached for his black gown with the fancy sleeves and purple hood, while Neil grabbed the black cap; he wouldn’t put it on until he had to, and wore black slacks with a black dress shirt for his graduation ceremony. Neil was dressed up for once, too, in dark grey slacks with a silvery-grey dress shirt (which Andrew had picked out). They left the small bedroom made even smaller with all the boxes, to enter the living room also crammed with boxes.
Right after graduation, they were moving in together, into a larger apartment in the same building. Andrew looked forward to an office where he could study for his Master’s degree, and a decent sized bathroom.
“There you are! Excited to graduate?” Nicky asked as he jumped to his feet with a big grin on his face; he’d gone back to the US for Aaron’s graduation two months ago, and shouldn’t be so excited to sit through another boring ceremony that summer.
“What, where I sit on my ass listening to a bunch of old people talk way too much until they call my name?” Andrew huffed as he tugged on the cuffs of his shirt. “Only going because Bren promised me decent drinks afterward.”
“But it’s a major life milestone!” Nicky insisted while gazing at Neil. “Aren’t you looking forward to graduating next year?”
Neil shrugged as he leaned down to pet Pita, who rubbed against his shins. “They don’t really do anything for those of us who take classes online. I’ll probably just keep taking classes until I get bored, anyway.”
“But… but… I’d be happy if I were you,” Nicky sniffed, which made Erik give him a big one-armed hug. “It’s a big deal.”
It was just a piece of paper, in Andrew’s opinion. What mattered to him was what happened afterward – the fellowship he’d received which allowed him to continue studying at the university, and the new lease which had both his and Neil’s name on it.
He had a future in front of him, one he’d earned on his own and one where an impossible pipedream wanted to wake up next to him each morning.
“Fine, you go in my place,” Andrew offered as he held out his gown to his cousin. At first Nicky gaped at him and then laughed.
“I’m tempted just to see the looks on their faces,” he hiccupped as he wiped at his left eye. “That’s okay, I’ll be busy keeping your sweetie company.”
Andrew narrowed his eyes at the moron for the ‘sweetie’ comment, but that was mild for Nicky and he couldn’t exactly argue that nothing was between him and Neil when several of the boxes around them bore his name.
“Uhm, we need to leave,” Neil said in a rush as he motioned to the door. “If we want to be on time.”
“Yes, I imagine there’ll be some traffic,” Erik agreed, a proud smile on his face as he held out his arm for Nicky to take; both men were dressed in suits as if attending a formal affair.
They finally left the apartment and went down to the car which Erik and Nicky had rented for their visit. On the way to campus, Andrew’s phone pinged with a text from Aaron – a short message to congratulate him and remind him to call when everything calmed down.
Andrew hadn’t been able to attend his twin’s ceremony since he was busy with classes at the time, but he’d gone back over Easter break to tie up some loose ends (sell the GS, box up whatever he wanted to keep to either bring back with him or mail to the UK, and get rid of the rest) and have it out with Aaron one last time. To his surprise, it had gone better than he’d expected; he doubted that his brother had ever thought he’d just ‘walk away’, would leave Aaron and the States for good, so they managed a sort of ‘détente’.
Distance seemed to work well for them.
Campus was a mess with all of the visitors there to see their family and friends graduating, even if they had split up the classes as much as possible. After they’d parked and gotten to where the ceremony was held, Andrew (barely) allowed Nicky to give him a quick hug and Neil a longer one before he went off to join his fellow graduates, including Prasad. He exchanged a fist-bump with his now former roommate, who updated him on his job search (a couple of promising leads) and once again congratulated him on the fellowship before they split up to go to their seats.
After that, it was as boring as he’d expected, save for Neil sending him texts during the droning speeches; asking him if he was certain that he was related to Nicky (had there ever been a blood test? Neil knew people who could do genetic testing on the sly if Andrew wanted it done, just saying), future menu items at the café (now that was just mean), possible vacation spots for them, and yes/no on accessories for the new ‘flat’ (no on the cat-themed pillows, yes on the new duvet). When it was Andrew’s time to go up for his diploma, he was hard-pressed not to flash the middle finger at the crowd with the way that Nicky and Erik acted like immature morons, yelling out his name and clapping so loud.
When it was all said and done, he was grateful to make his way back to where Neil waited for him; he had to endure a congratulatory pat or two on the shoulder from a couple of professors along the way. As soon as Neil spotted him, he smiled at Andrew and leaned in for a quick kiss once close enough, which somehow made the whole ridiculous ceremony worthwhile.
“Let’s go,” Andrew insisted when they broke apart, and ignored Nicky’s protests about him posing for pictures.
The man really should know better by then.
They waded through the crowd and managed to get back on the road after a short (not short enough) wait, then drove to the Bolthole, which was closed for a ‘private’ party. Andrew would be honored by the event, if he didn’t know how little money the café made on a regular basis and how much some of its ‘regulars’ enjoyed drinking.
Along the way, Nicky babbled on about Andrew and Neil visiting Germany before their classes resumed, maybe the four of them meeting up in Berlin like they’d talked about around New Year’s. It was a possibility, especially after Andrew bought a car so he and Neil could plan out some road-trips.
There were times when it still didn’t seem real, the fact that he’d left the US behind to live in the UK, that he’d be looking for a job here after he graduated with his Master’s, that he’d cosigned a lease and had a student visa (and been told by Bren that it wouldn’t be any problem to get a more permanent one once he graduated).
That he was planning a future with Neil and a spoiled as hell cat.
Okay, he’d never plan on including the spoiled as hell cat. Or the annoying, cloying as fuck family members like Stuart and Will.
Especially Stuart.
That wasn’t even including Ally.
The one thing he’d finally accepted was that Neil was real and wasn’t going away. Not with that signed lease, not with all those boxes waiting to be moved into the new apartment (flat – what the hell was a ‘flat’?), not with all the exchanged texts about what they should buy for their new home (home, what a concept), not with the casual mentions of how they’d get a townhouse (‘terraced house’) when they graduated and figured out where they wanted to live (where they got jobs – probably London but maybe Glasgow or Edinburgh since Andrew liked those cities, too).
Neil cared about finding a place to live where Andrew liked, where Andrew wanted to live.
After all those years of tearing himself into pieces for others… Andrew had found an improbable idiot who worried about making sure that Andrew was happy.
(Well, Andrew and a spoiled furball.)
(Andrew could put up with a spoiled furball who was placated by a full dish of food and a soft blanket to sleep upon, as long as he got Neil most of the time.)
Neil had just told Nicky to send him some ideas of where to stay in Berlin when they finally reached the Bolthole (or at least where they had to park), and everyone got out of the car. Neil smiled at Andrew and held out his hand a little in a gesture that meant he’d like to hold hands but it was up to Andrew, which made Andrew click his tongue and entwine their fingers together.
Such an idiot.
They only had to walk half a block to reach the café, and ignored the signs posted on the door about it being closed for a private party; Andrew actually blinked in surprise to find more than Bren and a glowering Stuart inside, but a smiling Jamie, Henry, Ally (okay, he could do without that cousin), Will, Miriam and a few of the family’s bodyguards and errand runners as well.
They made an obvious sign of brandishing crackers in the air before setting them off (Neil still flinched a little at the noise), before closing in to wish Andrew ‘congratulations’. “How does it feel to be an educated man?” Henry asked as he handed Andrew what looked to be a glass of champagne (it better not be anything cheap).
“Hungry. Where’s the cake?” he asked as he rocked up on his toes to look beyond the wall of Hatfords, which made most of the people laugh.
“It’s over there,” Henry remarked as he waved to a table laden with appetizers and what had to be an entire sheet cake despite the fact that there was less than twenty people in the place; like the rest of his family, he was dressed up for the event (why?) in nice clothes (suits and dresses – but then they dressed up to ‘deal’ with people so no big deal). “So, are you happy with the new flat?”
Despite being drawn to the cake (an entire sheet cake, embellished with his name and lots of buttercream roses), Andrew paused to consider the question and the man asking it. Henry might appear like some mild-mannered twenty-something with his friendly smile, pale grey eyes and blond hair, but Andrew had yet to see the young man without at least three weapons on him (knives in his ankle boots and gun holstered in the small of his back), had heard enough stories from Neil and Bren to know that the Hatford’s heir wasn’t one to ignore. Yet Henry strove to put him at ease, to ‘chat him up’ each time they met… after ensuring that he was serious about Neil.
Hadn’t that been a ‘fun’ conversation.
Yet Henry (and Jamie and Miriam) seemed to believe that Andrew was serious (he was) about Neil and so treated him with respect (what a concept), while Stuart and Will were still a bit standoffish (considering what he’d heard about their sister and her relationship with Neil’s father… well, he’d accept ‘standoffish’).
“I can shave in the damn shower without knocking my elbows into the walls, so ‘yes’,” Andrew remarked after a sip of the champagne (it wasn’t the cheap stuff).
“Well, you know Neil,” Henry remarked with a slight smile as he gazed over at his cousin, who was being hugged by Jamie. “He insisted on the smallest flat in the building, so Dad was rather happy on giving him an upgrade this time around.”
Which worked out for Andrew, didn’t it? “For future reference, tell him ‘no’,” he insisted. “At the least, it’s animal cruelty.”
“Not to mention boyfriend cruelty, no?” Henry laughed as he held up his own glass as if in a toast. “Don’t worry, I believe it won’t be a problem anymore.” He gave Andrew a knowing smile as he walked away, only to be replaced by Miriam who offered her own congratulations and wanted to know if he needed anything for the new apartment (she didn’t seem to trust Neil’s ‘we’re fine’ – the woman wasn’t an idiot by any means).
After spending ten minutes or so going over some vital necessities (Andrew had no issues hitting up Neil’s wealthy relatives for stuff when they were eager to provide them) while snacking on the appetizers since he hadn’t eaten in hours (the croquettes were delicious, as were the mini chicken pies and the Welsh rarebits, among others). He figured any guilt Neil felt over the purchases would be assuaged by how happy his aunt was over making them, so it would work out in the end.
Bren and Davis came over with a few pints to ‘toast’ his graduation, and then he was able to escape to find Neil, who was chatting with Stuart and Jamie. “-seriously, we can put you to work in some side businesses once you graduate,” Stuart was telling Neil, whose body was stiff with tension.
“I appreciate that,” Neil said in a flat manner as he stared at his uncle with a bottle of water clutched in his right hand. “But there’s a lot I can do with the degree, maybe I’ll get a Master’s like Andrew and… I don’t know, see what happens after that. Mathematics and language intersect at some point, which opens up a lot of options for me.”
Stuart frowned as he jabbed his right forefinger at his nephew. “I don’t see how-“
“Neil’s right, there’s potential there,” Jamie was quick to jump in while Andrew rubbed his right hand along his boyfriend’s nape. “Something with security and code breaking, if I’m guessing right, which could be valuable to us… or if he wants to strike out on his own.”
“Exactly,” Neil said in a quiet voice as he slumped against Andrew. “Could set up my own business but still help out the family.”
Stuart eyed him for a couple of seconds before he nodded. “You know you’re free to do whatever you want and we’ll support you, but… but yeah, tell me and Will about this some night, okay?” He smiled, the expression blatantly proud, as he reached out to ruffle Neil’s hair. “Obviously you got all the smarts intended for Ally.”
Jamie laughed at the comment while Neil managed a slight grin, and Andrew felt the tension leave his lover’s lean body; no matter how much Neil struggled to stand on his own, his uncles’ opinion mattered to him. “That’s a classic example of damning with faint praise,” Jamie claimed as she gave her cousin a fond look. “You two are coming to London for a week or two, right? Maybe in another month?”
Neil fidgeted with the left of his shirt while he gave a curt nod. “We need to get everything set up in the new flat and then figure out where we’re all going during the summer break, but we planned on stopping there.”
“Still need to get the car first,” Andrew added as he glanced around for Bren, who was over by the impromptu bar talking to Davis and a couple other Hatford ‘employees’. They’d discussed options for an affordable used car (something not too boring with low miles), but the man had been awfully quiet on the matter the last few days.
“Yeah, right.” For some reason, Stuart gave Andrew an indecipherable look while Jamie smiled, and then the topic switched to how Andrew and Neil better not stay at any cheap hostels again on their getaways (it had been one time, when their hotel had ended up overbooked, and while Andrew hadn’t been happy about it, at least they had a room to themselves and the place had been clean). While an indignant Neil argued with his overprotective uncle (good luck – usually Andrew would put his money on his lover, but not that time), he wandered off to fetch a drink.
Bren gave him a pat on the shoulder while the others wished him ‘congrats’ and handed over at least a double of a very nice whiskey; he was toasted first to a successful Master’s and then a ‘happy life’ in the new apartment (flat). He tried a few times to bring up the car, but kept being interrupted by Davis or Quentin before Bren could say more than a couple of words.
Then Bren pointed out that Ally had challenged Nicky to some ridiculous drinking contest, and Andrew had to go put a stop to it before Stuart and Will decided they didn’t want someone related to such a blithering moron anywhere near their precious nephew.
By then, Neil seemed to reach the limit of his uncles’ fussing and all but glued himself to Andrew’s side, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. They sat down at a table to eat (more meat pies, not that Andrew was complaining at all, along with mashed potatoes); Neil nursed a cider while Andrew had a pleasant buzz from the whiskey and looked forward to the cake for dessert. Jamie and Teddy (Wednesday pick-up) sat across from them and talked to Neil about possible places to see in Portugal while Andrew exchanged a few texts with Aaron and did his best to ignore Nicky’s hints about how he needed to make things with Neil ‘permanent’.
Right, he’d just sold most of his belongings (the GS) and moved across the ocean to live full-time with another person (whose family could very easily make him ‘disappear’ if they wanted) and a cat – all on a whim.
Maybe if he asked Stuart very nicely, the man would make Nicky disappear.
(It was a nice daydream.)
At the moment, what annoyed him the most about Aaron was that his twin was thousands of miles away from Nicky. “You need to go spend the summer with Aaron,” he told his cousin.
“Huh? But I just saw him a few weeks ago, that and I can’t take that much time off at once,” Nicky complained as he frowned at the platter of pies before he picked one at random. “Besides, I need to save a week in case, you know.” His left eye did some weird spasm thing, which Andrew took to be a pathetic attempt at winking. “Something important happens with you and Neil.”
“Time to cut him off,” he told Erik, who was already handing a glass of water to his inebriated husband.
Neil leaned against Andrew after he had a sip of his drink. “Can we just go somewhere far away when I graduate? I mean, this isn’t too bad but….” He gave a significant look to the family gathered around them.
Andrew nudged him in the side while pointing to the half-eaten chicken and mushroom pie on his plate before he answered (in German as well). “Not a bad idea.”
His boyfriend smiled and resumed eating while Jamie rattled off all the family events in the second half of the year that they were clearly expected to attend; Andrew inwardly sighed and wondered if he could walk off with whatever bottles of alcohol were left over at the end of the party as Neil’s smile faltered.
He was about to tell Neil to create a distraction while he grabbed the cake and then they ran like hell (well, more Neil than him) when Will stood up and cleared his throat as if preparing to speak. “I want to thank everyone for coming tonight. It’s not a grand occasion, but it’s still an important one.” He nodded to where Andrew sat, a slight smile on his face; Will wasn’t the most jovial of people, but he’d always treated Andrew with respect and politeness even while he made it clear that Andrew wouldn’t live long enough to regret harming his nephew. “Someone we’ve all come to know has reached an important milestone, and so we’re here to recognize that achievement. With that in mind, Stuart and I have a gift for him.” He motioned to Andrew. “If you would, Andrew.”
“If I’m about to be shot, I’ll be very upset,” Andrew murmured to Neil, who’d gone perfectly still during the speech. The look his boyfriend gave him indicated that Neil didn’t appreciate the joke (well, semi-joke), but there was little he could do since Andrew had stood up and went to approach the mob boss (crime lord, whatever).
Stuart stood as well, his expression blank, but Andrew caught the way that Miriam smiled, along with Henry and Davis (who were seated near the men) so assumed that he wasn’t about to bleed in the next few minutes (assumed). Still, he had to force himself to not go for one of his knives and heard Neil mutter in Russian when Will reached into the pocket of his black pants for something, which he held out to Andrew. “A present for you. We heard you might like it.”
“Something better than that used Japanese shite you had Bren looking into,” Stuart muttered; upon seeing the ‘Jaguar’ logo on what was apparently a key fob, Andrew almost remarked what did it matter when the company was now foreign-owned, too… and then he realized that it was a new key fob for an F-type.
Yeah, he supposed it was a bit better than something used that he could afford with the money from selling his GS….
“Are you serious?” he asked as he rubbed his right thumb over the logo; he’d gotten some gift cards (mostly Amazon and one for IKEA from Nicky and Erik) for graduation, while Neil had surprised him with a new laptop. But this? This was….
Andrew didn’t know what to do with this.
He was ready to throw it back at Will when Neil appeared at his side. “You didn’t have to,” he told his uncles with faint reproach.
“We wanted to,” Will explained as he smiled at his nephew. “This way we know that the two of you are driving around all over the place in something reliable.”
While Neil frowned at their usual protectiveness, Andrew clicked his tongue and slid the fob into his pocket, suddenly all right with the extravagant present – it was more of the usual Hatford ‘must coddle Neil’ BS. “It better not be some lame color, like white.”
Stuart’s face grew flushed as he jabbed his forefinger in Andrew’s direction. “Listen, you little shit! You don’t-“
“It’s grey, nothing too flashy,” Will said with a knowing smile as he reached out to tousle Neil’s dark hair. “And the insurance is taken care of, too. Just don’t wreck it.”
“I won’t let Neil behind the wheel,” Andrew promised, only to give his lover a bland look. “What? You think speed limits should be doubled, at a minimum. And you switch lanes at will.” The one time he’d let the idiot drive a rental car was also the last.
“It’s just… what I’m used to is… oh never mind,” Neil grumbled as he rubbed at his eyes. “Cake now?”
Considering how little Neil liked desserts, Andrew knew it was a diversionary tactic yet accepted it, because he wanted the damn cake (and then to go find his new car and drive it home).
(Go home and spend the rest of the night alone with his boyfriend.)
Several other people spoke up in agreement that yes, definitely time for cake, so Miriam and Neil went over to cut the damn thing at last (Neil made sure that Andrew got a huge end piece, and the rest of his own after he choked down a couple of bites). There were more presents, mostly along the way of gift cards (Andrew didn’t complain), though Henry did give him a very nice set of knives and Bren a pair of Doc Martins with skulls on them.
“Just think about it,” Nicky mostly whispered after he sidled up to Andrew after Andrew went back for seconds on the cake. “If they give you a car now, imagine what your wedding present would be.”
The moron made a good point for once. Andrew had a bite of dessert (chocolate layers with the rich buttercream he liked) while he watched Neil make Ally take a piece from a center of the cake – the ends were reserved for Andrew, apparently - and felt a familiar warmth fill his chest.
The moron made a good point, but there was no reason to tell him that, to say that there wasn’t a need to rush things. First, he and Neil had to settle into their new home and then still had to finish their university degrees. Maybe after they graduated and found steady jobs, they’d consider it… or maybe not. After all the changes in the past year or so, the one thing that Andrew had grown certain of was the life he’d found with an improbable pipedream.
Neil looked over at him and smiled, the expression turning into a grimace as he licked a bit of icing off his fingers without thinking.
“I’m just saying,” Nicky continued to harp, “guys like Neil don’t come along every day. Put a ring on it, will you?”
Oh, Andrew knew how rare Neil was, but judging from the smile that returned as Neil walked over to him… for once he believed it would be all right. “Enough,” he warned his cousin before he said something to upset Neil.
“I’m just trying to help you out,” Nicky said with an offended sniff before he returned to Erik’s side, his husband busy chatting with Davis about something.
Probably, but Nicky never knew when to quit. Hopefully he got it all out of his system tonight and wouldn’t bring it up when they visited later in the summer.
Hmm, maybe the Hatfords could do something about that as a future present, Andrew mused as Neil sidled up to him - full of cake and good whiskey, a new car waiting for him, and content to have his boyfriend at his side once more.
*******
So, one more owed fic - I may post the next Ghost in You chapter next week and then I’ll have to see what happens next, fic-wise. Especially since I’ll be out of town the first weekend of December.
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reddogf13 · 3 years
Text
Smoke & Mirrors ch 1
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Pennywise x Beverly
summery: a confused Beverly suddenly realizing she's in a house with no memory of her past 5 years. dating a strange man named Robert grey and a voice warning her in her mind to not trust him. informing her a frightful list of rules to keep her memory from the man. don't let him know you're scared, don't look him in the eyes. easier said then done while she dates and lives with him.
status: In progress
rated: M - fowl language and gore
previous chap: None
next chap:  Smoke & Mirrors ch 2
_____________________________________
~ch:1 Through the fog~
It was a bright golden early morning over the town of Derry. Starting just like any other, yet something was … different. Beverly was inside her kitchen chopping up some bacon to add to a omelet she just started on for breakfast. Her smooth chopping movements slowing to a stop. Pausing to stare down at her simple task.
“... what am I doing?” finding herself suddenly lost. Everything was suddenly new and unknown to her despite this being her kitchen, her … house. “ what? … my house? Where? ...” stopping to look around. Alarmed that her memory was both giving a sense of things being the way they are, while also terribly wrong. “whats going on?! Where am I?! How did I get here?!” her mind raced. Scanning over everything to grasp at some memory of what the hell was going on. Fear tightening her chest to make the world spin on lack of air.
Leaning against the kitchen counter to catch herself from fainting. Now she was trying to remember anything from years back. What date she bought the house? Cant remember. What her job is? Cant remember. What she did a few months ago? Cant remember. What was yesterday? Cant remember. What she did before cutting that bacon? Cant remember. Was she suffering Alzheimer's? What was the cause of this massive blackout?
A males voice breaking through her panic to grab her attention. “Beverly?” he calmly spoke her name. She didn't look at him, her body outright refusing. Some sense of memory coming to the front out of her memory blackout.
Don't look at him
it was a warning from some part of her. Who was he? Why was he here in the house with her? Did she know him? Were they close at all? Her mind slowly answering for her. “his name is Robert grey and you're not as close despite what you may see or hear.” so much more details that only made her more confused. She shouldn't look at him, but if he was a threat she had to face him at some point. Turning around a little too fast to face him. Taking in what she saw of him quickly in a single look over.
A very tall man with pale skin, red hair, grey blue eyes dressed in clothes that looked a little old fashion. A dark duster coat over a dark brown vest with that over a white shirt. His pants a dark navy down to a pair of black boots.  He was young and incredibly handsome that Beverly would blush if it weren't for her crisis right now. “are you alright?” he asked softly.
Beverly looked around nervously on how to answer. “uh, I … i-i don't feel well.” answering truthfully. She wanted to get out, away from him, and run far away.
“do you want to lay down?”
“ uh, i- I want to see a doctor.”
this caught his attention to be more concerned. “okay, I'll drive you. How do you feel?” after clicking off the stove he helped her along through the house that felt extremely familiar, however it was extremely different in some way. Stepping through a door into the garage into a car.
Sitting down helping her shaking legs get a moment to regather their strength. “should I jump from the car? Should I run as soon as the garage door opens?” fear having her slowly suffocate. startled when the garage door loudly opened for Robert to pull the car out.
Driving along she saw so many things different about the town. The feeling of the familiar VS recognized changes becoming over whelming. Knowing all these houses that were brand new, yet recognizing how this area was once dirt, trees, and broken sidewalks lining a horribly pot hole covered road. She at least knew she was still in Derry. Things seeming to appear more the same in the middle of town. Aside from stores closed or replaced at some point. Getting out of the car overly quick in the small doctors office parking lot. Rushing inside to the counter ahead of grey to gain some space.
Leaning on the front counter working to hold her body from physically shaking. “i need to see a doctor.” the secretary about to speak, but was interrupted. “right now.” Beverly urged the importance to not be shooed away due to lack of appointment made. Nervousness spiking as Robert caught up with her at the counter. Startled again by someone else calling her name.
“Bev! What are you doing here?” a girl her age happily came over to greet her. Slowing to a stop with concern at how Beverly was looking. “whoa, are you alright?”
“uhh, no. ...jess … I am not feeling to good and waiting for a doctor.” her mind bringing forth some information on the cheerful women. Getting a much more comfortable sense of actually knowing this person. A whole history coming forth that brought some calmness.
Jess was a cheerful girl she met during college classes required for her fashion degree. She always wore bright flowing dresses and was highly optimistic. They regularly hanged out at party's or doing camping trips during the breaks to get away from the main town. They were close friends for many years and had no bad feelings from their time together.
Jess turning concerned off what Beverly said. “oh, you okay? Whats wrong? Got some bad food poisoning or that nasty flu running around? I just got the flu shot 5 minutes ago.”
“uh, maybe.” she slightly waved off to wait for the doctor. Being sure to keep her gaze away from Robert standing near by.
Him stepping in to talk for her. “she got sick this morning while making breakfast and wanted to rush down here.” setting a hand on one of her shoulders. An action that looked comforting, but was anything but for her. Shrinking from the touch to practically run as soon as a doctor came for her. “uh, wait here. I need to talk with the doctor alone.” she spoke quickly to keep him from following any longer. Rushing into the doctors office to breath some air of relief at getting somewhat away.
The doctor noticing her behavior was slow to start his questions. “okay miss, marsh … how are you feeling?”
“i cant remember anything.” she got out right away. “ I've lost all my memory's for the past years. I don't know who I am with or how Derry looks, or whats going on in my life. It feels like I woke up from a coma this morning.” she spoke quicker and quicker into almost a crying breakdown. Needing the doctor to help calm her.
“okay, calm down or you may make your condition worse. Do you take any medication?”
“no, I don't think I do.”
“had any head injury's or been in an accident. Like a car collision or high fall?”
she wiped away some tears.“i don't remember if I did.”
the doctor wrote something on a clip bored. “okay, I'll check your records. If that's not the case we'll take some tests. A check up and blood work. Then possibly the bigger ones like a brain scan will be scheduled at the larger Derry hospital. Relax here while I get a nurse.” the doctor left her alone in the small office.
Beverly questioning herself if this was a health issue. “no, somethings wrong and it has to do with that Robert grey. Who is he and where did I meet him?!” focusing hard back on what little she just grasped in memory. She was in college for fashion design hanging out with Jess later meeting her other close friends Amy and Lisa, throughout the years. Lots of boring school that she really didn't mind forgetting. Their graduation from the college.
Her and jess getting a job in the same field for the same company. A grand job working outfits for a huge runway show coming up. The show turning out amazingly well then there was a huge after party. Then she ran into him. Introducing himself as Robert grey and despite charming everyone else, there was something Beverly didn't trust about him. Trying to avoid him like the plague while he stalked after her. Being extremely friendly like he was desperate for her friendship, but she wasn't having it. Expecting his reasons to be for sex back at his place.
Then he managed to catch her in a crowd. She wasn't cornered, surrounded by people and yet something happened in that moment. She looked back to face him with a cold glare right into his eyes and then the darkness just surrounded her. Everything after that is gone up until this very morning. It felt like this happened years ago, but exactly how long she wasn't sure. Peeking onto a computer screen in the room she could see the small date in the very corner.
2/27/ 2002. 5 years had passed since that after party. 5 years missing from her memory she felt instantly sick. “What happened and what did he do to me?! Has he been drugging me all these years?! That cant be, Jess or someone would have noticed me acting differently!” holding herself back from vomiting while standing next to a trash can just in case.
When the nurse came in she was asked more questions. Being given a regular check up with everything seeming only a little high due to stress. The doctor returned with her records being very empty of any accidents aside from some injury's after her and her childhood friends explored the water drainage system.
A small chuckle brought up from the memory. It certainly wasn't a case of them exploring. She was kidnapped by a demonic child eating clown. That is something she will never forget. Or the boys who saved her after she was taken. Saddened that after high school graduation they all separated to follow their dreams involving various colleges across the USA. Richie headed to LA for a talk show. Eddie followed to do behind the scene work with him. Ben went to new York for architecture, Bill went somewhere north west to get out in the country for peace and quiet to write. Stanley moved with his family and the same happened to mike after farm work wasn't needed much in Derry.
Derry had been growing and with that more houses had to be made. Mom and pop small stores couldn't compete with the larger chains moving in that replaced them. It was both good for Derry to get so much more opportunity coming in while sad to see childhood places disappear. The lush forests near by now replaced by rows and rows of houses. She sighed with a rub of her face as the doctors scheduled with her more tests. Mentality exhausted after being awake for maybe a few hours. Somewhat grateful that all her alone time was allowing her to build a foundation to her surroundings.
Building a shaky history to recall in the hazy years she lost. Memory's of hanging out with her friends. Building a career she now ran all on her own in fashion. Those memory's nice and clear until he entered her vision. It suddenly went all away until the next moment she took her eyes away from him. Some other memory's coming forth that weren't so pleasant. A male shouting violently at her followed by blows of pain. Was it all him? Attacking her to the point her memory's were warped?
After tests were done and blood drawn she was allowed to leave. The tests results would come in a week or so. Until then they recommend she stay home with someone with her at all times in case another major lapse of memory happened. Suggesting that maybe she had a silent stroke that had the possibility of getting better or worse in the coming days. She left the room back to meet with Jess.
Robert asking “are you alright?” going coldly ignored by her. Not even daring to look at him as she stared straight at Jess. “can I talk to you in private?” she asked Jess.
The girl nodded. “um, sure.” Glancing concerned at Robert off to the side before going with Beverly to the bathroom. “whats wrong? What did the doctors say.”
“we did some tests, but I am fine. Have I been acting strange at all?”
“no … are you sure they said you're okay? Didn't they do a blood test?”
Beverly brushing the tests aside. “they come later. What about after I met Robert? Was I acting weird during that party?”
“Robert? What, no?” Jess turning even more concerned at the mentioning of greys first name.
“who is he? Why do I live with him?! What happened during that party?!”
“who is he?! You two have been dating for years now. That's why you live together! What do you mean what happened at the party?! Are you okay?” Jess questioned.
“no I am not! And it has something to do with him! There's something wrong and I know hes the cause of it! I don't remember anything after that party after he stalked me like a weirdo!”
“Beverly I think you're really sick. I can take you to the main hospital. This is just a small doctors office and they really cant do things here if your seriously sick.”
“no, I am fine! I know I am fine except for him! He did something! He drugged me or something! I cant remember anything except that hes not safe! I need to get away from him and get a damn drug test!”
“listen to yourself! You think greys been drugging you for 5 years?! Hes never hurt you and we always go on our long camping trips. Don't you think at some point the drugs would have warn off during our two weeks camping? We need to take you to the hospital, right now. Wait here for a second while I talk with the doctors.” Jess gesturing for Beverly to stay as she left the bathroom.
Beverly anxiously peeked from cracking open the bathroom door. Seeing Jess talking with Robert rather then a doctor. Spiking her fear she looked for an escape. Seeing sunlight through the bathroom window she took it as her only way to escape. Rushing and squirming herself through the painfully small window. Landing harshly on the gravel pavement below that needed her to dust herself off. Hearing Jess calling her name from inside she refused to reply. Running off down the town streets to get far away. Not entirely sure where to go at this point aside from the hospital for a drug test.
Changing her course to go around the long way in the hopes of avoiding attention. She was walking through the forest away from roads to avoid people. No one could find her at this point, and yet, someone did.
she heard his voice behind her. “Beverly.” Fearing for her safety she faced him. Shocked he somehow found her and caught up so quickly without a sound made by his footsteps.
“get away from me!” she snapped aggressively.
“Jess told me what you said. I wont hurt you, Jess can take you to the hospital and leave you there if you'd like. Its not safe for you to wonder the woods. Please come back with me to the doctors office.” keeping his voice soft and body relaxed. He gave her lots of space between them to not scare her off.
“i am not going anywhere with you Robert!”
“Robert?” his attitude taking a sudden shift. Changing to something more serious and cold. “you haven't called me that in years. Whats wrong?”
“whats wrong?! You did something to me! Robert, Robert grey, who ever you are! I think you drugged me! Did something to me that night of the party! I don't want you getting anywhere near me! Fuck off!” shouting at him.
His body stiffened. “i didn't drug you. ...You're sick and having memory issues. Lets get you to the hospital and everything will be put back to normal.”
“NO!” she bolted into a run away from him. Not getting far before her hand was yanked back. Whipping around to face the man who somehow grabbed her unnaturally fast. Ready to punch his lights out when her mind clouded to the darkness for a 2nd time. Staring deeply into the blue eyes now changed into a glowing fiery yellow.
It was as if everything paused after that point. Forgotten until the next time her mind was release from what blocked it. Awaking to find herself at a table, in a diner, surrounded by friends. Half a eaten burger in her hands as her friends laughed and talked around her. Her confusion spiked, however kept herself looking calm on the outside. Slowly taking in what was going in to figure things out. Looking down she saw a cellphone near her plate. It had to be hers with how close it was settled by. Taking it up to check it with a small flip of its cover. Spotting the time and date.
3/25/ 2002. almost a month had passed. What happened since then? How could she question what was going on without being suspicious?
Jess noticed her checking her phone. “did work call you again?”
“oh, no. was checking messages to see if I was acting weird around that health scare last month.”
hearing Lisa speak up about it. “ you were completely normal aside from that freak out. Shows how scary a damn vitamin deficiency can be for you.”
Jess replying with a drink of her tea. “yeah, who knew a B12 deficiency can have you go wacko. I got so paranoid after that, now I am taking 12 different vitamins. Some I didn't even know existed!”
getting a laugh out of the table aside from Beverly who awkwardly chuckled. “you're telling me.” she bit back into the burger. Thinking of the supposed reason. “a vitamin deficiency?! They're passing my 5 year memory loss on that?!” getting more suspicious about her friends and the doctors. cutting her thoughts off before she could vomit out her meal.
Beverly excused herself from the table. “uh, gotta go to the bathroom. Be right back.” taking her phone with her into the bathroom. She had to figure out more about her supposed life. Checking the phones photos for anything. Going through them she saw all sorts of photos involving her and Robert.
On dates together at a table, drinking glasses of wine at office party's, they always looked so happy together. None of those moments she had any memory of. There were also many happy photos of her on camping trips, those she did remember. Jess did bring up a good point of drugs wearing off during their camping trips. Anything that didn't involve looking at Robert was clear to look back on, but after a few weeks camping wouldn't she have caught on. Why was this suddenly hitting her after so long?
“i guess after a while I could have become immune to whatever.” She sighed and rubbed her head. “maybe I should go to the doctors.” putting her phone away. She left the bathroom to dismally approached her friends.
Noticing her sudden change in mood.“you okay?” Jess asked.
Beverly shook her head. “it happened again. I cant remember the past month.”
the girls at the table were immediately alarmed. Getting up to console her, pack up the food, and take her to the doctors. On the way there she over heard one of the girls calling Robert about what was going on. Beverly was nervous about this and the guaranteed check on her he would do. She was suppose to be dating him, but her only memory of him was creepy stalking around a party 5 years ago. Maybe having a talk with him would ease her worry. Doing her best to relax until then.
At the hospital she answered all the questions she could. Waiting alone with her fearful thoughts of what could be wrong with her. was this her life now? Forgetting more and more of her life? Her eyes teared up at the thought of her depressing future. Questioning at only 28 years old if she should get her will together and end of life care. Hopefully Robert was a loyal man and would stick by her side during all of this. However those violent visions arose to the front of her memory. The yelling, shouting, beatings and things thrown her way. A nurse coming into her room broke the dark chain of memory's.
Asking Beverly a question. “a man named Robert grey is here. Is it okay if he visits you?” the women asked gently. After receiving a head nod the nurse nodded back with a smile before leaving to tell the man.
Beverly took in a deep breath in readying to speak with him. To apologize for her aggressiveness before. To speak of what to do from here on if her mental illness worsened. A voice in the back of her head returning to the front.
Speaking to her in warning. “he'll do it again. Don't look at his eyes.” disappearing soon after. Something noticeable to her was that the voice wasn't her own. It was as if someone else was speaking to her.
Seeing the man out of the corner of her eye she looked to him. Opening her mouth, but ended up with nothing coming out. Freezing at the site of him by this overwhelming sense of danger being near. A deep seated glare of hatred naturally crossing her face the longer she looked at him.
he asked in a calm tone. “darling? Are you alright?” Not showing a sense of aggression toward her, but Beverly felt otherwise. Getting no response he stepped forward and reached a hand out toward her. Scaring her away from her seat.
“get away from me!” she aggressively snapped.
His expression turned sour to how she was reacting. “what is wrong with you?! Why are you acting like this?!” he questioned.
“there's something wrong with you!”
“what is?”
“i don't know! Something is telling me that you aren't to be trusted!”
his expression souring further into that chilling look. She barely managed to hear what he mumbled to himself. “hes ruining it.”
“what?!” she questioned what that meant. Seeing his eyes flash a bright yellow before the darkness swarmed in again.
The time slipping away from her to eventually drop her down. Coming to in new surroundings that she recognized as her bed. It was night and she was alone … for a moment. She could hear someone in the bedroom bathroom. The door shut leaving only the bed side lamp on to provide minimal lighting. She sat up and pulled the alarm clock close to check the date.
“still today, just a few hours lost.” getting up out of bed. She needed to run despite only being in light pajamas. She couldn't afford to pack while he was here and possibly readying to join her in bed. The thought making her violently ill as she rushed out of the room. Grabbing the car keys off a line up of hooks by the door. Rushing out into the pouring cold rain of the dark night. Looking around the barely highlighted surroundings from what little light pooled out of the houses windows. Shakily reaching out to yank the barely see able car door handle.
Sitting into the seat to shove the key into the slot. Turning it in the expectation the car would start to life, but their was nothing. Not a sound nor one little light coming to life inside the car. Turning and twisting the key desperately made no difference.
“fucking car!” she cursed. About ready to make a run for it down the road.
Alarmed when the car door was opened by grey. She made sure to have the front door in her sight at all times to make sure he wasn't coming out after her. Having appeared from no where he must have snuck around. No time to figure out how he snuck up she turned in grabbing the car door to swing it open. The click of the door locking itself had her heart pounding in her chest. Her shaky tries of unlocking the door being futile. She was trapped inside the car with him. Fearing to look back at him she froze her gaze on the glass reflection disturbed by rain drops. Using it as a way to watch without making direct eye contact.
Sitting still in preparation to fight back if he tried doing anything. Jumping when he shut his door to settle in the passenger seat. His golden eyes glowing in the reflection of the glass window.
“if he tries to touch me hes going to the hospital.” thinking to herself.
Startled by his voice. “Beverly.”
she cursed to herself for stupidly jolting from him saying her name. “... yes?” her meaning to answer calmly, but failing at that too.
“look at me.” he ordered.
“... why.”
“why wont you look at me?”
her nerves growing the longer this back and forth was going. Swallowing heavily when her stomach threatened to rise up.
“ We are usually so happy together. I gave you so much and you're still not happy. Why? why do you keep fighting? Id be easier if you stopped.” his tone taking a downward shift. “i wont let him take you from me.” his words chilling her blood.
What did he mean by all of that?  Feeling him grab her shoulder she thrashed her fists around to beat him away. Pulled into facing him by him managing to grab a hold of her hand. Her turning to face him was a mistake she deeply regretted.
Those yellow eyes boring into her. This sense of recognition of them smothered by her memory's being repressed. His last words echoing through her fading mind. “everything will be fine. You're going to juniper hills asylum for some help.”
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lov3nerdstuff · 5 years
Text
Fallen {Part 3}
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*Loki x reader*
{Part 1} {Part 2}
Chapter: 3/?
Words: 3.8k
Imagine: You go on a more or less involuntary road trip with Loki after he finds you hiding in Grand Canyon. With the Avengers AND the police chasing you, you are forced to trust each other in ways neither of you could've imagined.
Warnings: language, mention of adult topics, mention of abuse
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As you fell, you couldn't think of a single thing but the feeling of Loki's hand intertwined with your own. There was excitement at the gentle gesture, a warmth that you had missed for years and a sense of contentment. But there was also fear, pure panic even at the intimacy shared with a stranger. There had been a time when only the good feelings were present at a touch of hands. Those times were long gone.
Your fall came to a sudden stop and your feet hit the ground forcefully, reminding you of the times in your childhood when you jumped down from a tree that was a little too high. A second later, the hand was withdrawn from yours and so was the warmth you had enjoyed so much.
Confused, you looked around yourself. You stood next to a fancy car on the side of the road, just a little walk from where you had previously been. Loki was standing next to you, looking into your eyes intently.
"Did you just…?" You asked in amazement, pointing towards where the cliff must be and then back to the car.
"Yeah." He replied calmly. "Now get in the car."
You frowned at him, unsure if you wanted to obey. But his eyes showed a determination that made you trust into whatever plan he had and honestly, you were freaking cold and also running from a ranger. Thus you walked around the car and sat down in the passenger seat, closing the door a little too forcefully.
As Loki got in as well, you couldn't hold back your questions. "Is this even your car?" 
"Technically, no. However under these circumstances, yes." He replied and in an instant started speeding down the road, making you fall back into your seat.
"Thank you for helping me." You said quietly. "You didn't need to do that." You let out a long but controlled breath, calming down from the adrenaline rush jumping off a cliff had caused.
"You looked desperate."
"But you don't seem like the type to go for the damsel in distress."
"I like to cause the distress, not get rid of it, yes."
"Thank you anyway. It was quite exciting actually, I've always wanted to jump off a cliff." You smiled slightly, looking at Loki from the corners of your eye.
Loki focused on the road ahead but smirked nonetheless.
"So… are you gonna drop me off a few miles down the road?" You crossed your arms in front of your chest. For some reason you both hoped for him to say yes and no. You didn't need to deny it to yourself, Loki was handsome, smart and beyond interesting. Yet you didn't know if you could handle being around him any longer than this one night.
"I… don't know." Loki admitted, fingers clenching on the steering wheel. A few minutes later he spotted a sign announcing a public parking spot a couple miles further and he didn't hesitate to follow said sign.
When he stopped the car, there was silence for a minute. Then you opened the door, thinking that he maybe felt too uncomfortable to tell you to get out. Before you could get out however, the door flew shut again and you turned your head to look at Loki with a big questionmark written in your face.
"Listen… I came out here, into the canyon, to be on my own. But then I found you and I… I enjoyed your company, do still enjoy it." He tried to put the chaos within his mind into words. "If you will have me, I would like to go to New York with you."
You were momentarily stunned to silence, your thoughts racing from 'wtf' to 'hell yes'. 
"See, I never wanted to go on this vacation with the other idiots in the first place and I think we could be of good use to each other." He continued.
If you thought about it that way, it indeed made sense to go there together. He had a car after all and you wouldn't have to hitchhike anymore. It was warm, dry and there was worse company than the god of mischief. 
Loki grew increasingly nervous as you didn't reply right away, certain that he had just screwed up every chance he had in keeping you around. It was a commitment, going on this road trip together, and he knew fairly well that it would lead to a whole different level of pining. 
Unbeknownst to him, thoughts of very much the same sort were running through your head at the very moment. You didn't need to ask yourself if you wanted to go on this road trip with him, but more if you could indeed do it. You decided to share your thoughts with him.
"See, I have been… traveling alone for a very long time, not depending on anyone but myself." You said, surprising yourself with how calm your voice sounded. "I have…"
"Trust issues?" He suggested. "Welcome to the club."
You chuckled. "Yeah, you could call it that." The thought of being close to Loki for… three or four days made your heart beat faster. It stirred up some feelings within you you weren't sure you were ready to delve into.
"Look, we can try how far we can get and if it doesn't work you can still continue on alone." He said, equally trying to convince you and himself that this was a good idea. 
You took a deep breath. He wasn't asking you to sleep with him, for God's sake! You would merely share a car and a nice conversation like you had for the last couple hours.
"Fine. Let's do it." You said before your mind could continue to play tricks on you. You wanted this. Wanted to spend time with him and wanted to get to New York. No downside.
You could practically hear his relief as he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
"Sounds like fun. Me running from the avengers and you running from the cops." He chuckled. With a small smile you placed your bag in the backseat and your fleece jacket over your head.
"I thought you were cold." Loki commented as he started the engine and drove off the parking ground. 
"But I'll never get warm if I keep that cold thing on my body! The warmth takes longer to get through the fabric than to get only through my shirt." You argued and turned the seat heating to maximum.
"Very well." Loki chuckled as he sped through the darkness. After a few minutes of silence you started to relax into your seat. Yes, this had been a good idea.
Loki tried focusing on the road, while everything within him screamed at him to keep looking at you. So he kept throwing quick glances at you, admiring the way your camisole accentuated every curve of your body. It had a dark color, but in the dim light of the car's displays he couldn't exactly tell which. He could however tell that looking at you tempted him even more now that you taken the bulky jacket off and were lounging in your seat with your eyes closed, probably enjoying the warmth of the seat heating. And it took him more strength of mind to keep focusing on the road than he would've expected. This drive would be more exhausting than he had imagined and pining was usually not something he could cope with for a long time. He'd have to see about that.
"Hey Loki?" You asked with your eyes closed, oblivious about the inner conflict he was having.
"Yes dear?" He cringed for allowing this term of endearment to slip his carefully constructed emotional barriers.
"Can we put on some music?" You asked with so much hope in your voice that he couldn't say no even if he'd wanted to.
"Sure." He thus replied, smiling at your eagerness as you fiddled with the radio. Once you'd skipped through every channel, you turned to Loki once more.
"Looks like there's not much reception here… Do you happen to have CDs in the car?"
He let out a snort. "I told you this is not my car, so I…" He stopped mid-sentence. 
"Loki?" You asked as he didn't continue.
"I forgot the car has GPS. I need to turn that off before we can go anywhere." He sighed.
"Can't you magic it away or something?" You asked with a shrug.
"Don't be stupid, y/n…" He rolled his eyes.
"Then let me do it." You suggested, shrugging once again.
"Do you know what you're doing?" He frowned as he pulled over and shut the engine off once again.
"Sure…" You mumbled as you got out of the car, not even bothering to put your jacket on. In fact, you didn't know what you were doing. But it couldn't be that difficult, people in movies did stuff like that all the time. So you started walking around the car, searching underneath it and in every little space you could fit your hands in. Loki, who had also gotten out of the car and was now leaning against the door with his arms crossed in front of his chest, was watching you in bemusement. That was until you basically commanded him to lift the car with his magic and once he did, got on your knees and scooted yourself under the car, leaving him frowning more than smirking.
"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" He asked once again. 
A short moment later your arm came out from under the car, a tiny grey box in your hand. The rest of you followed and soon you stood next to him as he had the floating car return to the ground.
"That's it?" He asked, taking the little box from you.
"Yup." You replied confidently, surprised that you had actually found the darn thing.
"Are we throwing it away?" He asked on, making you snort. Here you were, an hour into your trip and he was already losing some of his 'I know everything' attitude. The thought of having made it through some of his facade made you a little bit proud.
"Here…" You took the small box from him, removed the batteries and put it back together. "Now we can keep it and put it back whenever we wish."
Loki took it from you with a roll of his eyes, opened the door on the driver's side and threw the piece of technology into the backseat. 
Suppressing a huge grin, you quickly got in on your side and the you continued your drive.
"That was not really impressive." Loki commented after a few minutes. 
"Then why didn't you do it?" You smirked, and you could see the smile playing at the corners of his lips as you turned your head to look at him.
"What happened to the idea with the music?" He asked instead of honoring your wit with another remark.
"No reception, no CDs… I don't have a phone anymore. That's about all we could do." You sighed.
With a swift and graceful movement he fetched his phone from the pocket in his door.
"Here. There's more than enough music on my phone." He held it out to you as if it wasn't a gesture of trust to hand your smartphone over to someone else. As you took it, your fingers brushed against his slender ones, instantly giving you tingles all over your body. Damn your camisole for revealing the effect he had on you… but as you looked at him out of the corners of your eyes, he didn't seem to look at you at all. Instead, he stared ahead at the road with his jaw clenching from time to time.
You took a deep breath to calm down your racing heart and unlocked his phone. It wasn't locked. In no time you found the music app of your choice and connected the phone to the radio. 
Loki only had one playlist downloaded, but it contained so many songs that you were sure you wouldn't run out any time soon.
As you pressed play, you marveled at the amazing sound system the car possessed for a moment, then placed his phone into the console between you.
Loki had calmed down once again and was silently singing along to the song that was playing. A smile played on your lips as you watched him, imagining what his lips would feel like on your own. You quickly shook your head. You shouldn't be thinking about him at all, leave alone in this way. 
So you turned your head to the window, watching the nature flow by like a troubled river. The effect it had on you was so calming that your eyes fell shut in no time and you drifted off into a world where you didn't need to worry about having your heart broken once again.
"Y/n!" 
You heard your name being called in the distance. The voice brought a smile to your face.
"Y/n, wake up…" 
It got closer, crawling through your mind like roots through fertile soil.
"Come on, y/n, I need you here…" 
Your eyes fluttered open slowly and you blinked a few times before the world around you came back into focus.
"Hmm?" You asked as you sat up straight in your seat, looking at the time that was displayed on the radio. You'd been sleeping for two whole hours! 
"I need you to keep me awake or we'll crash and die." Loki sighed, rolling his shoulders. "There's a motel an hour away, but we need to make it there first."
You yawned, not even remotely well rested, but he had a point.
"Fine…" You groaned tiredly. "What do you want me to do?"
"Talk to me, tell me anything…" He sounded as tired as you felt. 
"Uhm…" You didn't know what to talk about. Your dreams had been solemnly about him and you sure as hell wouldn't tell him that.
"Please, y/n…" He sighed once again. "Anything at all is better than just the music."
"Alright…" You kicked your shoes off and crossed your legs beneath you on the seat. "You know, when in movies… wait, you've watched movies, right?"
Loki chuckled. "Yeah I've seen a couple…"
"It also happens in books, anyway, but have you ever noticed that when people fuck in movies or books or whatever, they never clean themselves up? Like, they always go straight to either cuddling or sleeping or just put their clothes back on… I think that's so unrealistic." You leaned your head against the window, not specifically proud of the topic you chose. But like he had said, anything was better than nothing.
"Uhm, well…" Loki let out a small laugh. "I haven't really thought about it. But I guess you're right, that would be highly unrealistic."
"And don't you just hate it when you read a really good fanfic and suddenly they start with some kink or trope that you're just not into at all?" You ask in frustration, remembering the last time that happened to you not that long ago.
"What is 'fanfic'?" Loki asks with a frown. "Like… fic as in fiction or fic as a weird way to say fuck?"
You let out a loud laugh. "No, definitely fic as in fiction. It's called Fanfiction and it's… weird. Nevermind."
Loki rose an eyebrow, but let it slide. 
"Does Asgard have a lot of libraries?" You ask instead, trying to get Loki to talk.
"Yeah, quite a few! They are huge, ancient… very impressive. I've spent more time in the royal library than in my bedroom as a child."
You smiled, turning your head to Loki. "Sounds really nice. Would've loved to see one."
"You might one day, who knows…"
A moment of silence followed before you remembered that you ought to keep talking, but nothing came to your mind, except… "Is it… is it okay if I tell you something personal?"
"Sure, I'd love to know more about you." He was quick to reply.
"Well, like I said before, I'm on the run currently. But I don't think I ever explained why. By the way, I'm very grateful that you didn't ask." You watched him while you talked, observing his reaction. "So… back in Sacramento, they say that I murdered someone." 
You watched his face intently, waiting for the shocked or disgusted reaction you were sure you'd get. But he merely shot you an encouraging gaze. 
"Do go on." He said as friendly as he could without revealing his interest in the story.
You took a deep breath. "Well, it's not as easy as they try to make it. I did, in fact, kill someone…"
"Who?" He asks curiously and you weren't sure if you had missed his judgement or if he simply hadn't given one.
"My stepfather." You picked nervously at the frays of your ripped jeans. This was the first time you actually talked about it, and you probably wouldn't have if your brain wasn't dead tired. "He was a monster."
"What did he do?" 
"He has always been weird… but after my mother died, just after I had graduated from college… he started drinking. He hit my little brother, sometimes so badly that I had to take him to the hospital afterwards. And he… he found a replacement for my mother, in me. He used to call me by her name, when he was drunk. Which was pretty much all the time." You started chewing on your bottom lip, unsure of when it had become a good idea to talk about all this. "Whatever. After my brother moved out of state for college I made sure that he would never hurt anyone again."
"Seems pretty reasonable." Loki simply said. He felt his heart clenching, desperate to comfort you… yet he didn't know how to. There was more to your story, he knew that. But again, he wouldn't ask if you didn't want to tell. "I don't care if you killed someone or not. I've killed hundreds upon hundreds over the centuries." He smiled sadly, staring ahead at the dusty road.
You still bit your lip, painfully aware that he was right. He was a god, his problems must be way more complicated than your stupid drama…
"I'm sorry, my story must seem so silly to you. I didn't mean to beg for pity, I just…" You didn't know how to finish that sentence.
"It's not silly at all." He replied immediately, sounding more awake than he felt. "I'm sorry you had to go through so much. If you want to talk about it, I'm listening."
"Thank you." You smiled slightly. "Same goes the other way round."
"My story could fill books upon books." Loki sighed. "But if you want to hear about it…"
"I would like that very much, actually." You looked at him curiously. 
Loki took a deep breath, asking himself once again what in all the worlds you were doing to him to make him so… vulnerable. So open to you, so desperate for your whole being. And for the next hour he told you about everything he knew how to put into words. You were beyond stunned at his sudden eagerness to let you in, but not in a thousand lifetimes would you complain. It was open and raw and entirely Loki and you loved every second of his story. At more than one point you were glad for the darkness, as this way he couldn't see the tears daring to spill from your eyes.
He told you everything up to the point where Thor, Steve and Tony had made him go on this trip. Of course, he couldn't really go into too much detail in the short amount of time, but he tried to give you a good overview. 
As he finished, he felt like a stone has been lifted off his shoulders. He couldn't have imagined how good it would feel to share his thoughts with someone, especially someone he was falling for at such a rapid pace.
"Wow…" You breathed. "I… I'm not sure what to say."
Loki smiled, looking back and forth between you and the road. "It's okay, I don't know what to say either. It's not something I tell people every day."
"I know, I feel very honored." You chuckled. "And I'm glad you told me."
He smiled for a short moment, then frowned as he stopped the car at the motel's parking ground. Both of you got out of the car and were greeted by the chilly air and the first glimpse of sunrise.
You dug through your bag, but only found a dollar and two quarters. "Sorry, that's all I have." You said and looked at your feet on the dusty ground. "But I can just sleep in the car, that's fine…"
"Nah, we'll have Stark pay." Loki winked at you and pulled a credit card out of his wallet. 
You looked at him with an unspoken question and a grin.
"Yes, I steal them from him when I'm pissed at something he said or did… I basically steal them every time he's around." He rolled his eyes, but smirked nonetheless. 
"Great. I'm tired." You yawned. "Let's get a room."
As Loki disappeared in the tiny office, you leaned against the car and watched the sunrise with amazement. The colors and the beauty of nature was truly ineffable.
Then you felt a hand on your shoulder and jumped a little. 
"It's just me, sorry!" Loki said immediately with an apologetic look on his face.
You let out a long breath as you calmed back down again. "It's okay, I'm just a little on edge when I'm tired."
Loki handed you your key. "Here you are. Your room is next to mine." Together you walked to your rooms, unlocking the doors when Loki turned to you once more. 
"Sleep well, y/n." He said, then hesitated for a moment and you almost believed he would talk on. But he never did. Once the door was closed, he leaned against it and closed his eyes. Oh, how much self-control it took him not to rip open that door and be close to you once again. He couldn't allow himself to dwell in his adoration for you, not yet.
With a sigh you closed your door as well, falling down into the soft bed with a quiet squeaking of the mattress. You felt exhausted, deeply tired and utterly stupid. You hadn't even realized it until Loki had handed you your keyes, but until then you had simply assumed that you would be sharing a room. Now on the other hand you felt as alone and as restless as you hadn't in ages. There was no denying it any longer: You were falling for Loki, hard and fast. 
______________
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ginasneesby · 3 years
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September - Viv and Andy part 1
2 years late but in enforced lockdown seems the best time to complete these blogs if I am able to remember to any degree what I actually did.
My first visitors were my sister Viv and her husband Andy, they had planned to come to me for 10 days, sandwiched between short trips to see friends in Australia; meaning I didn’t get the jet lag portion or the sad our trip is almost over portion! Viv had also done a lot of research and even booking in advance so most of the activities were sorted and paid for. This made it easier for me having only been nursing since coming back in July and then having taken more trips than I should have done really given how much money I had saved, spreading the cost meant we could all do everything and any extra costs were paid for with those weeks’ wages!
Their flight got in around 4pm on Thursday 6th, the day after I got back from Queenstown and a few weeks after Rarotonga so sort of felt like I was living at the airport; my carbon footprint this year was pretty shocking. They had booked a posh flat in central Auckland just round the corner from the Sky Tower which I drove directly to, luckily arriving late enough to miss parking restrictions so I could come in and see the place too. Having this flat the whole trip meant they could pack small bags for our planned trips and leave all the rest behind, also there was a gym in the complex which apparently is important ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
It did however mean their self-catering kitchen was empty, so first job was to head to a supermarket to grab some essentials, the next day we hadn’t planned anything out of town so coffee and milk were a must. We decided however to go out for dinner rather than cook so I took them for a short walk down to the Viaduct and Wynyard Quarter to see the harbour bridge, marina and view across to Devonport. We ate burgers or something similar at a bar and had a couple of cheap cocktails making it to well gone 9 o’clock before all the travelling (and I’m sure some jetlag) kicked in and we all headed home.
The next day I left the pair to figure out Auckland transport and met them at the Devonport ferry terminal, from here we took a gentle hike up Mount Victoria behind my flat (also known as the windiest hill in Auckland) with great views of the harbour, bridge and skyline. There is also an old gun turret type thing that was positioned here because it’s near the opening to the Hauraki Gulf and, I guess, the Pacific Ocean. Obviously we had to take the ‘there’s a giant gun between my legs’ photos but the classic NZ weather of blue sky, crazy wind and blazing sun directly in your eyes led to some interesting facial expressions. We had a late start to the day so after a few hours and a quick stop to see my flat, we were ready to head back over to the city and go for a drink. I took them to an Irish bar which I know seems so wrong but actually there isn’t really what you’d call a typical New Zealand pub (unlike the outdoor bars in Europe) so any pub was good; this one I knew did some classic NZ beers which was good enough for a local feel. We didn’t stay long as we were booked in for a full itinerary of activities on the Saturday but it was nice to end our first full day with a couple of beers, that’s what holidays are all about isn’t it.
Saturday saw an early start to catch the ferry to Waiheke Island, we tried to stay outside on the boat initially but all that wind that’s blow on Mount Victoria, also blows through the Hauraki Gulf and across the bow of the ship, so it was a bit too chilly to remain for the whole journey. There were lots of people on the boat, including a whole host of local primary/middle school football teams who were heading to Waiheke for a tournament; there was a lot of excitement so must have been a big deal! On arrival we were picked up with only about 6 others to head to the Ecozip HQ for the first of our ‘zip, wine and dine’ plans. The sun was blazing as we started out safety briefing for the 3 large zip lines we were about to throw ourselves down, all of which flew over a working vineyard and beautiful patch of NZ bush which we would then walk back through after getting to the bottom. The views from the top were amazing; I love the Auckland skyline anyway but seeing it across the water with the sun shining added an extra splash of magic; always makes a special holiday activity particularly memorable. The zip lines were set up in 2 so Viv and Andy went down together, of course trying to race each other, how else do you zip line, I went down by myself which meant I could 1) take in my surroundings and 2) film the others trying to beat each other. Not sure there’s anything you could actually do to increase your speed but I know they were trying. Each zip faced in a slightly different direction and was positioned high above the bush so each journey down was a new view; I highly recommend doing it as it was great fun. Once we got to the bottom, we were able to loosen our harnesses for the return climb, the guides walked us back up through the bush, pointing out the native plants, trees and animals which the company is helping to preserve and restore.
We were taken back to the ferry port to continue our day which for us meant being picked up by a different coach and taken to the first of 4 wine stops, Stonyridge Vineyard. We had a brief tour of the vines and the cork trees that they grew on site plus a taster of 3 different wines which we were then able to buy a large discounted glass of to have with lunch. Our tables were set up outside on a deck near the cork and olive trees and overlooking rolling green hills, if there’s a better spot to start an afternoon of drinking I haven’t found it. Also a good shout to sell a large glass for cheap at the start, as I found out on a later trip without this option, the tasters as not enough to keep you going for the whole afternoon (and I’m really against paying $15 for a small glass.) The next stop was Rangihoua estate in the centre of the island for some olive oil tasting and some different wine. By this point in typical Auckland fashion the sun had come out in force and wearing jumper, jeggings and boots I was overheating a bit but also determined to catch some sun following a long grey winter. Casita Miro was an amazing vineyard up in the hills towards the north coast of the island, ran by a family with decoration inspired by the Park Guell in Barcelona and Gaudi’s style of mosaic. The vines also grew on a pretty vertical hill, the dad (who was also a Dr) clearly put all his time and effort into the place and it really showed; what free time he could possibly have i don’t know. They gave us a tasting of 5 different wines, red/white and rose, each with a small complimentary snack balanced on a plate on top of the glass; some bruschetta, some cheese and some fruit, classy. Our last spot was Mudbrick Vineyard, with views back towards the city and Rangitoto island across the glittering green water of the Gulf, their vines went up the hill behind the vineyard which must have been near the highest point of the island? The whole place was obviously well established as a venue and even had extra buildings for wedding parties to use a bridal suites etc. We were able to buy more wine and stay longer if we wanted as our return ticket was valid until the last ferry, probably around 9pm. But we decided to head back with the coach and catch the planned ferry, totally in the mood to jump into another bar around the terminal and continue drinking. But in usual fashion the 40 minute ferry journey zapped us of this will and by the time we got back an early start and the best part of a couple of bottles of wine each caught up with us so we decided not to carry on but to crawl into bed probably grabbing something tasty and unhealthy on the way home.
Sunday, after a slow start, we decided to drive up the coast to Muriwai beach where there is a large colony of Gannets living on the rocks, I had been earlier in the year and there were barely any birds there, I guess September being the start of Spring they had all come back to nest. The west shore of Auckland is famous for high winds and crazy waves (they set a whole beach rescue programme at Piha just down the road) so there are some quite dramatic rock formations along the coast. Muriwai has a designated walkway up through the colony and when crowded with birds they literally nest everywhere, right up to the edge of the path so you can get a really close look at them. There was a bit of shagging going up close too which made some of the parents walking around move their brood on swiftly. Down the hill from the birds you can walk along the rock when the tide is out and people come here to fish and look in the rock pools, there’s probably some fresh shellfish being pulled out here and taken straight home for dinner. I had recently discovered a Sunday night market under one of the shopping centres near me which had fresh homemade Asian foods which were all pretty amazing. You could get a pile of dumplings or bao for not many dollars which we did and shared them between us plus some added satay chicken and other deep fried goodies. Not to mention the desserts on offer, ice cream/crepes/waffles all with fruit and chocolate bits and sauces in case the main course wasn’t enough calories. Stomachs filled and plans finalised for our flight the next day, I drove my guests back to their apartment and took myself home to pack for the next adventure down to the south island.
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blazingcobaltx · 4 years
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20 cents per minute (complete)
Fandom(s): CANAAN, 428: Shibuya Scramble Characters: Canaan, Osawa Maria, Minorikawa Minoru (minor) Words: 1432 A/N: I’M FREEEE, FINALLYYYYYYYY. Split into 7 chapters on AO3/FF, but I’m publishing it at once here. Chapter 4 contains minor 428 spoilers. ________________________________________________________________
Between their vastly different lives, the phone calls became a constant.
7-2006
They exchanged phone numbers when Maria was about to leave town.
Obviously at Maria's initiation, but the young Canaan didn't oppose it. She was drawn to the girl; the prospect of more contact between them was one that pleased her. The few days spent together left her with a warm feeling she hadn’t felt in a long time.
Maria is the first non-work contact in her phone. Her name is surrounded by many others - clients, onetime associates, various middlemen - but those are nothing more than dull greys, greens or browns with occasional dashes of blue. Some leave an uncomfortable buzz on her tongue, a reminder to never fully trust anyone.
But this contact - ‘Maria Osawa’, followed by plus-eighty-one and just the right string of numbers - shines a bright yellow. The numbers vibrate near perfectly in her ears and the ripples of colour prickle her skin soothingly.
A change of the regular. But definitely a welcome change.
8-2006
Maria called a few weeks later, when she was already back in Japan. The speed Canaan answered the phone with might have been startling to some.
"Maria?"
"Ah, Canaan! I'm so glad you picked up!"
Turns out Maria didn't expect her to answer; she figured Canaan was busy with some 'errand'. In turn, Canaan never expected to be called back so soon, even though Maria had promised she would.
The bubbly girl tells her about the rest of the trip: The (super difficult) travel back to the (amazing) capital, her (amazingly bizarre) encounter with a fortune teller who only saw a blank white in her future, which was "super weird!", and her (super long) trip back to Japan. Overall it was an "amazing!" journey.
Canaan is not doing much throughout the phone conversation (which lasted about an hour). In her apartment she sits on the bed, walks around, tucks her phone between her head and neck to pack her bag, but mostly she just listens with a smile.
It's nice, a phone call like this. She hasn't had this before. Her Japanese friend is recollecting about her vacation and all she has to do is sit back and let the girl do her thing. It's different than those calls with some gruffy man giving her instructions for the next job, or the CIA agent (also Japanese but not a friend) updating her on the woman with the tattoo just like hers.
Those are fast, full of essential information, and sometimes overwhelming. But this is pleasant, slow, and despite the amount of information does not feel overwhelming. She listens silently, and whatever she hears goes right into its own designated location: Information about Maria.
"So, what about you, Canaan? What have you done these past weeks?"
Eh? She did not expect any questions about herself.
1-2007
At some point, Canaan could expect a call from Maria every two weeks. The topics ranged from everything to nothing. Activities of the day, preferences; the conversations were scattered and often with random questions ("what's your shoe size?") in between. But neither of them minded. There was no other purpose to the conversations than getting to know each other and just talking.
Maria changes numbers and sends Canaan a text. Filled with smiling faces and some kind of excitement, the message is so Maria that it warms Canaan’s heart. Canaan, on the contrary, is constantly switching phones; sometimes for safety, sometimes because they do not survive the tumble of the battlefield. Maria never fails to be surprised when the unknown numbers she answers have her “good friend Canaan!” on the other end.
Between their vastly different lives, the phone calls became a constant.
4-2008
The plane lands after six hours. The young mercenary could hurry, but only doom awaited her: Maria was dead, the Ua virus scattered all over Tokyo, and the Snake retreated back into its shroud.
At least, if Canaan had to imagine a flawlessly-conceived scenario befitting the intellect of the Snake’s leader, it would be something like that.
But the plan was fouled: She is on time, the outbreak was stopped, and Maria is not dead. On the contrary - her shallow breathing interrupted by uncontrollable sobs told Canaan she was full of life.
Perhaps the girl would survive, and perhaps Canaan could tell herself that she would. With a new resolution to fight, Canaan ends the call and moves towards her prey.
8-2010 (1)
The sun shines brightly on the city today. Although its heat can reach high intensities during peak hours, the soft breeze provided by the Huangpu river makes it welcoming to stay outside. The circumstances could not have been better for ice cream.
A spoon clinks on the table when Maria finishes her sundae. She fixes her gaze on her companion, who is still taking modest bites from the sugary delight.
"Why haven't you called since you left?"
Spoon in mouth, Canaan meets Maria’s gaze. The question is dropped quite bluntly, and Canaan senses the shift in emotion from her friend.
"I lost your number."
Maria… Doesn’t exactly believe that. But she knows better than to press. Something about Canaan’s demeanor during her visit two years prior gave off the vibe that she had unfinished business to attend somewhere.
"Well, doesn’t matter now,” she shrugs off her own dwelling, “Give me your phone now."
Canaan retrieves the device from her pocket and obediently hands it to her friend. Some clicks later and Maria’s own cell phone can be heard ringing in her bag.
“Alright, I got your number again. Now promise me you will remember mine,” Maria’s gaze turn cold, “or else.”
Propping a hand under her chin, Canaan eyes the numbers on her screen really pensively. A noise of wonder escapes from her, and she returns Maria’s glare with a sarcastic gleam of her own. “Like this?”
Immediately, Maria breaks back into a smile, “Perfect!”
. . .
The daze from the impact cannot overtake her. The tight grip on her hair throws off her senses, but then she hears Canaan’s voice - the woman has acquired her phone.
As the clouds dissipate from her eyes, tears of remorse threaten to spill.
8-2010 (2)
Minorikawa rummages through Maria's bag until his hand finds what it needs. He flips it open and searches her contacts for the entry he’s looking for. As he presses 'call' and holds the phone to his ear, a scowl marks his face when he hears the one thing he did not want to:
"The number you have dialed is no longer in service."
9-2012
The darkroom is tiny and stuffy, but it is wholly hers.
The newest additions to her portfolio hang from the washing line to dry. Tokyo, Yokohama, Saitama. Her latest jobs have led her to these urban jungles in an attempt to disentangle them. The unique lens she presented on Shanghai has made magazines jump at her to recreate that magic. But Maria is sure it was a one-time thing, face turning into a grimace when some of the developed photos show their true appearance.
She needs some motivation. Turning to her right, she withdraws a box prodding from the shelves. Her Shanghai exposition.
Browsing through the pictures, Maria feels herself reliving the weeks that alternated serenity and despair. These pictures tell a story that is only known by those who lived it. Visitors were left fascinated by the pieces of the puzzle they were presented, unable to put into words why the woman with the white hair was such a stark contrast from the scenery.
Maria eyes the white-haired woman with a solemn smile. It’s been two years now. Although she kept hoping for a message initially, Maria knew she couldn’t sit still and wait forever. She had to keep moving forward, following her own way, until their paths would cross again at the middle of the road.
The digital clock chiming on her desk breaks her thoughts. 7 PM.
Sighing at the days gone, Maria begins her preparation to leave. There is a faint buzzing she hears that she ascribes to the company above her renovating their bathrooms. This premonition is invalidated when Maria actually catches her bag shaking erratically.
Rapidly she scrummages through it for the offender. The phone display reads two missed calls from a number she doesn’t recognise - but it is foreign.
Maria’s skin freezes and burns, excitement and fear overtaking her simultaneously. Could this be it?
Trembling with nerves, she dials the number on her way out. Her ‘hello?’ surely betrays the shakiness in her voice. The reply comes just as the door locks shut, the heavy slam an echo of Maria’s heartbeat when she identifies the voice.
“I’m on my way.”
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