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alyssaallyrion · 2 years

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Title: i prayed one word (i want)

Rating: M

Summary: An errant confession of forbidden love, a grief-fueled tryst in the night - war has a way of bringing out the things that otherwise would stay concealed. Only the war is over, and peace has come, and it's time to pick up the pieces.

Notes: Originally intended as a one-shot for Hyuga Week, but covid got in the way and then this turned into...well, whatever this is.

ao3 link

Chapter 1

“Neji-nii-san, Neji-nii-san!” Hinata calls out desperately, her voice trembling from quiet sobs as she falls to her knees beside him in the dirt.

Neji struggles to keep his eyes open – he’s lost a lot of blood, and searing agony piercing his entire being drained him of what little remained of his strength. The world around loses sound and color with every passing moment, as unbearable chill slowly seeps into his very bones. Neji has seen enough in his time as a shinobi to know what this means for him.

Yet even as death’s frigid breath ghosts across his skin, all Neji can think about is Hinata. Fighting blood and bile rising in his throat, Neji grits his teeth and reaches out for her. Hinata shifts forward, meeting him halfway, cupping his hand with both of hers and pressing it to her cheek. His calloused, bloodied hand seems to scrape obscenely at her fair skin, but she leans firmly into the touch.

“Neji-nii-san...” her entire body shudders with a violent sob.

“Shh,” Neji murmurs gently, trying to wipe off her tears, but his fingers do not move.

Hinata looks at him with wide, terrified eyes, and it’s more than Neji can bear. She has always been his most precious person – that is why he chose to give up his life for hers without a second thought. He wanted Hinata to survive, live a long, happy life, have a family, and grow old with the person she truly loved. With Naruto.

He’d never meant for her to look so utterly heartbroken.

“How could you throw your life away like that, nii-san?” Hinata’s voice is barely a whisper, “We had sworn that we would break the vicious cycle of sacrifice between the main house and the branch house!”

Through pain, soft smile tugs at Neji’s lips. She doesn’t realize it – and how could she? After all, Neji knows he’s always been so difficult to understand. He wasn’t dying for Hinata because she was of the main branch or because she was the daughter of the clan leader. No, the truth was much simpler and, for that, all the more inexorable: he did it because he was in love with her. He loved her deeply, with all his heart, ever since he first laid his eyes upon her all those years ago – and he had every intention of taking this secret to his grave.

After all, he had no right to burden her with his feelings, not when he knew she was in love with someone else. Not when she looked at Naruto Uzumaki as if he were the sun.

“I’m sorry I won’t be by your side to help, Hinata-sama,” he tries to speak softly, but his voice is hoarse, “But I know that if anyone can change the ways of our clan, it’s you.”

“Neji-nii-san, please…” Hinata’s voice breaks as she clutches his hand tightly, “Please…”

“Please don’t cry,” Neji rasps, barely able to lift his head to look at her. Grief-stricken and exhausted, somehow Hinata still looks heart-shatteringly lovely.

“Why did you try to protect me?” Hinata sobs, “If I had known you’d do this, I would never...Neji-nii-san, please don’t leave me.”

If he could think clearer, Neji would have kept his mouth shut, would have taken never spilled his secret, but he is nigh delirious from pain and blood loss. His thoughts are muddled, confused fragments - and truth slips unbidden before he can bite his tongue.

“I love you,” he murmurs, “I would have died a thousand deaths if it meant you could live.”

Neji’s breaths come shallow and ragged. Blood gurgles in his lungs, slowly suffocating him, and his eyelids feel impossibly heavy. The world quickly fades into the darkness, and the last thing Neji sees before he closes his eyes is Hinata’s face.

“I think I understand now, father,” Neji muses, as his mind drifts off, “What true freedom is.”

“Neji…” Hinata calls out, but he cannot answer.

* * * “Neji-nii-san,” a quiet, familiar voice tugs at the edges of his consciousness, “Neji-nii-san.”

Neji struggles to open his eyes – his entire body feels foreign and heavy like lead. He feels utterly exhausted when, after a long moment, he finally forces his eyelids open.

The world around him is nothing but a blur of washed-out colors. Neji blinks once, then again, straining to see his surroundings among faint contours and shadows. Instantly, dull pressure winds like a snake around his temples, squeezing his head, and a jolt of bright, burning pain bursts behind his eyes, forcing Neji to wince.

“Neji-nii-san,” he hears Hinata gasp somewhere beside him, “Thank goodness you are awake!”

Slowly, the world begins to take shape, and Neji finds himself staring at the white ceiling of Konoha’s hospital room. Right by his bedside is Hinata, her wide, worried eyes trained upon him. There are deep shadows under her eyes, and her cheeks look sullen, and Neji knows she hasn’t slept in days.

“Hinata-sama,” he breathes out, his voice entirely too hoarse. His mouth feels dry, and the pressure around his head winds even tighter, but the soft, timid smile that blooms on Hinata’s lips almost makes him forget about the pain.

“You need water,” Hinata says, reaching over to grab a bottle from the small bedside table.

Neji stirs, trying to sit up, but the slightest movement brings a wave of sudden, searing pain.

“Please be careful, nii-san,” Hinata frowns, turning back to him, “Tsunade-sama said you should not get up when you awake, or you’ll disturb your wounds.”

“For how long?” Neji rasps, utterly unenthused by the impending bedrest.

“I’m not sure,” Hinata responds, “She said she’ll need to examine you once you are awake.”

Neji tries to nod but finds himself unable to move his neck. Hinata shifts forward, bringing the water bottle to his lips. Usually, Neji’s pride would have forced him to refuse the help, but he’s in too much pain and absolutely parched, so he does not argue. He drinks greedily, as though he hasn’t had a single drop of water in years, and when the bottle is empty, it still doesn’t feel like enough.

“I’m sorry,” Hinata murmurs apologetically, “I’ll go get you more water.”

As she shifts back into her seat, Neji feels her hand brush lightly against his, and suddenly, bright blush blooms on her cheeks.

“I...I will be right back,” Hinata stutters, and she’s on her feet, and next thing Neji knows, she’s almost halfway to the door.

Before she has a chance to leave, the door slides open, and Neji sees Lee and Tenten in the corridor.

“Hinata?” Tenten frowns, stepping into the room, “I thought you’d left to get some rest like you promised. Do you want Tsunade-sama to yell at you?”

“Tenten, Lee-san, Neji-nii-san is finally awake!” Hinata interrupts.

Before Neji can react, his teammates are by his bedside, chattering excitedly.

“I knew you were going to pull through!” Lee exclaims, beaming brightly at Neji and giving him a thumbs up, “Gai-sensei has always told us that nothing can beat the power of youth! And, besides, you are my eternal rival, my man of destiny – how could you possibly leave before we get to have our rematch?”

“I’m happy to see you too, Lee,” Neji sighs, smiling softly, “But please don’t cry.”

But he’s too late – Lee’s already sobbing, threatening to drown them all with his youthful tears.

“What would our team do without you?” Lee cries out and shifts forward as if to hug Neji. Painfully aware of the extent of his injuries, Neji winces internally, but before Lee can hug him, Tenten stops him in his tracks, grasping his forearm with a firm hand.

“What do you think you are doing?” she frowns at Lee, “You are going to disturb his wounds! What do you think Tsunade-sama will say then?”

Lee turns pale at the thought, and Neji can hardly blame him – few people were more terrifying in their wrath than the Godaime.

“I’m so sorry,” Lee mutters apologetically.

“And you,” Tenten continues, as she turns to Neji, still frowning, “Were you just going to leave me all alone to look after these two? That’s quite selfish if you ask me.”

“I’m sorry, Tenten,” Neji chuckles, but she doesn’t let up.

“You better not try something like this again,” she says flatly, then looks back at Lee, “Go find Tsunade-sama. I’m sure she’ll want to know that Neji’s awake.”

“Of course!” Lee nods enthusiastically before giving Neji a bright smile, “I will be right back.”

With that, he crosses the room with what looks like a single jump, flings the door open, and sprints into the corridor.

“Just so you know, I would have kicked your ass in the afterlife if you left me to deal with all this energy all by myself,” Tenten sighs, sliding her weapon scroll off her shoulder. After momentary contemplation, she leans it against the nightstand and settles on a small chair by Neji’s bedside.

“Then I’m glad I’m still here,” Neji laughs.

“You should be,” Tenten looks at him with serious eyes, “Tsunade-sama really is a miracle worker. To say that you had one foot in the grave would be a horrible understatement.”

Neji frowns - while he is acutely aware that he sustained grave injuries, his memories of the war are hazy at best, all overshadowed by the recollection of blinding, searing pain piercing his entire being.

“Tenten,” he says, calm and even-toned, “What happened?”

Concern, clear as day, spills across Tenten’s face, “You don’t remember?”

“No,” Neji admits flatly.

Tenten is silent for a long moment, as if hesitating, then she asks, “Do you remember Obito Uchiha and the Ten-Tails?”

Neji nods, trying not to wince from the jolt of pain the movement causes – that much he does remember.

“Well, when he attacked Naruto, Hinata tried to protect him, to be his shield,” Tenten’s voice trails off momentarily before she continues, “And you... You chose to become a shield for her.”

It is as though Tenten’s words unlock his memories, and Neji starts to remember. He remembers the burning pain as the stakes pierced through him, remembers choking on his own blood and Hinata’s pale, tear-stained face as he tried to console her with his dying breath. As he told her that...

Neji’s heart drops as a chilling wave of anxiety clutches his throat, threatening to suffocate him. She knows. Neji feels dizzy – the secret he’s carried in his heart for so many years had been pried out of him by pain and delirium.

If he were dead, his errant confession could, perhaps, have been excused – after all, worse things have been forgiven to the deceased. Only, Neji isn’t dead – and now she knows.

Neji’s mouth feels dry as a frigid wave of fear spreads through his body, seeping into his very bones. They spent years healing their relationship from the rift caused by his father’s death, and now an ill-fated confession may have ruined everything they’ve worked so hard to build, placing an insurmountable distance between them.

Neji knows Hinata loves Naruto – he should have also known to keep his mouth shut.

The door slides open, sending Neji’s heart racing with anxiety. Hinata walks in, carrying several water bottles, and Neji cannot bring himself to look at her.

“Here is more water,” Hinata says softly, placing the bottles on the bedside table.

“Thank you,” Neji murmurs, not meeting her gaze.

“I wonder what’s taking Lee so long,” Tenten says, looking towards the door, “I really hope he hasn’t gone to Gai-sensei’s room again to attempt yet another one of his challenges.”

“Gai-sensei is also here?” Neji asks, turning to Tenten. Her words catch him off guard, although knowing their sensei, he shouldn’t be surprised.

Tenten glances briefly at Hinata before looking back at Neji and nodding. “He has opened the Eight Gates to save us all,” she explains carefully.

Neji’s eyes widen in surprise, “And he lived?”

“Yes,” Tenten nods, “Somehow, he lived.”

Silence falls upon the room as Neji slowly tries to process what he’s heard. The consequences of opening the Eight Gates were hardly a secret, and, knowing Gai-sensei, Neji had always suspected that one day he would give up his life using that technique to protect those he cared about. Yet, somehow, he survived.

“Neji-nii-san,” Hinata’s soft voice distracts Neji from his thoughts, “Your bandages... Here, let me help.”

Still unable to meet her gaze, Neji waits with bated breath as Hinata shifts closer. She leans in, reaching for his forehead bandages, and her long hair ghosts across his forearm. The sensation sends shivers down Neji’s spine, making his heart race. Her hands are soft and cool against his skin, and Neji’s breath catches in his throat as she lightly tugs at his bandages.

“Does it hurt?” she asks, looking at him with worried eyes, “The spot where the seal used to be?”

It takes a moment before Neji realizes what she’s saying.

His cursed mark was gone.

He knows he should be happy – he’d spent years dreaming of the day he’d get rid of the cursed mark, of the day he’d finally be free. Only, now these thoughts do little to quell the unease rising in his chest.

If the seal was gone, does it mean he lost his Byakugan as well?

He has always prided himself on having the strongest, clearest Byakugan in the history of the Hyuga. He could hardly imagine being a shinobi – and even just living his life – without it.

“No,” he finally manages, his voice hoarse and his mouth dry.

Before Hinata can reply, the door to his room flies open, and in marches Tsunade-sama, followed by Lee. Tsunade-sama looks as though she had about two hours of sleep in the last fortnight and entirely too much sake, but that much Neji expects. During peacetime, medic-nin worked long, grueling hours, but during wartime, they were expected to work to the bitter end – and then some.

“Good, you are finally awake,” Tsunade-sama says, walking up to Neji’s bed, “How are you feeling? I have to say, you are stronger than you appear - hardly anyone could have survived that.”

“Uncomfortable, but alive,” Neji replies flatly. “Uncomfortable” is a monstrous understatement, but Neji’s never been the one to complain about physical pain.

“Considering that your internal organs were shredded into ribbons and we had to use chakra glue to put them back together, you should count yourself lucky,” Tsunade scoffs, rolling up her sleeves before placing her hand on Neji’s forearm, “Just a little more damage and it could have been all over for you. Now stay still.”

Her chakra courses through his veins, cool and prickly, and Tsunade frowns before pulling her hand away.

“How much longer do I need to stay here?” Neji asks.

“Until I’m sure that all your internal organs have healed properly,” Tsunade cuts him off, then crosses her arms in front of her chest and adds, “And don’t even think of leaving before I discharge you.”

Neji barely stifles a sigh – the last thing he wants is to spend weeks on end in this hospital bed. He watches as Tsunade-sama picks up his chart from the bedside table and glances over it before pulling out a pen from her pocket to make notes.

“Tomorrow, I am going to have Yamanaka come in and check on your mind,” she says, still looking at the chart, “Just to make sure that the destruction of the seal didn’t have any nasty side effects on your bran. While I don’t think it’s likely, it’s still a possibility we can’t rule out just yet...”

“What about the Byakugan?” Neji interrupts before she can finish, “Has it also been... destroyed?”

Tsunade-sama is quiet for a moment, biting the tip of her pen as she studies his chart again.

“No. No, it wasn’t,” Tsunade says, frowning. She makes another note in the chart before looking Neji in the face, “Do you know why the seal disappeared?”

While Neji cannot be sure, he knows enough of the Caged Bird seal to hazard a guess, but before he can voice his suspicions, Tsunade continues.

“You were dead,” she says flatly, “It was for less than thirty seconds, but you were dead. Fortunately for you, that wasn’t enough time for the seal to destroy your Byakugan - but it still managed to damage it.”

“Damage it?” Neji echoes.

“Yes,” Tsunade nods, setting his chart back on the bedside table, “But, although the damage is fairly extensive, I imagine that with proper care and training, you will be able to restore it to its full potential. But just so we are clear – proper care means you cannot use it for at least a month until the injuries heal. Otherwise, you will only worsen the damage.”

Neji frowns, barely able to stifle a sigh – in all his years of being a shinobi, he’s overstrained his Byakugan only twice and, on both those occasions, was able to use it again only a day later. And now, he has been forbidden from using it for over a month. <i>And who knows how long training to restore its full abilities will take...</i>

It seems Tsunade picks up on his soured mood. Putting her hands on her hips, she glares at him and says, “You should be grateful you are alive at all, with all the injuries that you’ve sustained.”

Before Neji can argue, Hinata’s gentle hand is on his forearm.

“Neji-nii-san,” she says lightly, “When Tsunade-sama clears you, I will help you train your Byakugan like you once helped me.”

All words of protest die on Neji’s lips when she looks at him timidly through her eyelashes and smiles that soft rosebud smile.

“I will help you too!” Lee eagerly chimes in, “In fact, I promise to make five hundred laps on my hands around the village every day that I do not dedicate at least two hours to training with you.”

He never changes, does he? Neji thinks but cannot stop himself from smiling.

“Thank you, Lee,” he says.

“I’m also here to help if you need me,” Tenten adds, resting her chin on her hand, “And I’m sure Gai-sensei would be eager to train with you too.”

“The last thing Gai should be thinking about right now is training,” Tsunade-sama says, “So don’t go around encouraging him. Because if I catch him doing push-ups in the hospital bed just one more time, I swear...”

Neji notices the quick glance Tenten shoots at Lee as she mouthes something that seems awfully like, “I told you so.”

Suddenly, the door to his room slams open, interrupting Tsunade. In the doorway, he sees Shizune, frazzled and disheveled, breathing heavily as if she has just run through the entire hospital.

“Tsunade-sama, we need you in the operating room immediately!” she exclaims.

“I won’t have any time to eat today, will I?” Tsunade sighs, then looks at Neji, “Get some sleep - I will check on you tomorrow.”

“And you,” Tsunade frowns, turning to Hinata, “Didn’t I tell you to go home and rest? You can’t be sitting by his bedside day and night.”

“I’m sorry, Tsunade-sama,” Hinata stutters, bright blush blooming on her cheeks.

“I’ll ban you from the hospital if you don’t listen,” Tsunade adds, making her way to the exit, “So you better do as I say.”

“Well, Neji, you heard Tsunade-sama,” Tenten says, as soon as the door closes behind Tsunade and Shizune, “Looks like it’s time for you to get some rest. We’ll come to visit you tomorrow morning.”

“Bright and early!” Lee adds with a bright smile, “We’ll wake up at dawn and come see you right away.”

“That’s way too early,” Tenten argues, “It dawns at four o’clock; how is he supposed to get any sleep?”

Neji looks at her with gratitude - while all shinobi are intimately acquainted with functioning on very little sleep, on the rare occasion that Neji did have a day off, he preferred staying up late into the night and sleeping longer in the morning.

“Very well,” Lee concedes, “We’ll be here as soon as you wake up.”

“Thank you,” Neji tells his teammates.

Tenten rises from her seat and picks up her weapons scroll, sliding it back over her shoulder. She waives at Neji and heads to the door, followed by Lee, who shoots him a bright smile. They are halfway across the room when Tenten turns and looks at Hinata.

“You aren’t planning to defy Tsunade-sama, are you?” she asks, tilting her head to the side and eyeing Hinata curiously.

“Of course not,” Hinata says hastily, light blush dusting her cheeks, “It’s just that... I’ll catch up with you in the corridor, if that’s alright?”

Tenten nods, and she and Lee walk out of the room, leaving Neji and Hinata alone.

Neji’s heart is pounding in his ears as the wave of anxiety rises in his chest. He knows Hinata better than anyone, and he knows there’s only one reason she stayed behind – she has something to tell him. Hinata doesn’t look at him – her gaze is downcast, her eyes transfixed upon her hands folded in her lap.

“I’m sorry I can’t stay by your side,” she murmurs.

“It’s alright, Hinata-sama,” Neji assures her, “I will be just fine.”

Hinata nods and bites her lip, still looking at her hands. Neji wants to say something, anything to quell his own unease, yet, somehow, his mind is blank. Suddenly, Hinata raises her head and looks him straight in the face.

“Neji-nii-san,” she starts slowly, “I’m very grateful for what you have done for me, but there is something you need to know.”

Neji’s heart sinks as a shiver runs down his spine. He would have been naive to think he could have gotten away with that errant confession. His thoughts are frazzled, and his mouth runs dry as he frantically tries to come up with the words that would convey just how sorry he was for burdening her with his secret.

“The truth is,” Hinata continues before he manages to get a word in, “While I am grateful, I would have been very angry with you if you died.”

A moment passes before Neji realizes what she’s saying, and when he does, he’s surprised by the confusing amalgamation of relief and disappointment that washes over him.

“My apologies, Hinata-sama,” he offers with a slight smile, “I’ve never meant to upset you.”

“Then you better live a long, happy life,” she replies, looking at him with serious eyes. Her expression softens between a heartbeat and the next, and she adds, “Please.”

“I promise,” Neji says.

Hinata studies his face for a second, then nods, “I’ll hold you to it.”

She hesitates momentarily before getting up from her seat. Looking around the room, she asks, “Do you need anything? I could bring you your pillow from the compound – these hospital ones can be really stiff – or would you like some herring soba? I could stop by the cafe before I come to see you tomorrow...”

“Hinata-sama,” Neji interrupts, warmth rising in his chest at her concern, “There is no need - I will be just fine.”

“Ah, very well,” Hinata says, blushing ever so slightly, “But please don’t hesitate to tell me if you need anything.”

“I will,” Neji says. Hinata nods and smiles, satisfied and heads to the exit. In the doorway, she stops and glances at him over her shoulder.

“Goodnight, Neji-nii-san,” she says softly.

“Goodnight, Hinata-sama,” he replies.

Hinata walks into the corridor, closing the door lightly behind her, and Neji’s left alone in his hospital room. It seems the last bit of his energy has left with her, and he struggles to keep his eyes open. It is a losing battle, of course – as soon as his eyelids fall shut, Neji drifts off.

#neji hyūga #hinata hyuga #nejihina #neji x hinata

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tillywhim · 2 years

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Well, That Didn't Last Long

Ok, first things first, I'm playing serious catch up here so you'll have to bear with me if I'm covering things that are in the dim and distant past for you all now. As you know I had one heck of a time trying to regain access to my account then, when I finally did get it back, I caught the flu so have been laid up with that for the past few days. I'm just going to go over the things that have happened as they occur to me and give you my take on them. Here goes:

Yes, no sooner had they landed back in sunny Montecito and heard the news and seen the subsequent portrait of the royal quartet, Our Lady of Perpetual Victimhood shot back with an image of herself and husband Saint Henry of the Wounded Ego taken during their soiree into Manchester for her appearance as the keynote speaker at the One Young World Charity. I'm not a computer whizz but the doctored images doing the rounds are a hoot and well worth a look. I'm sure their "friend" photographer Misan Harriman who took this and other heavily photoshopped (tree of life anyone?) images of the couple would approve. Since the release of the above portrait, it seems that the "charity" which calls itself a "global forum for young leaders" is being investigated for paying Kate Robertson and her daughter Ella McKay almost £2 million in 5 years, some of it during the lockdown periods of Covid when no summits were being held. The Charity Commission is investigating remuneration packages for senior management personnel at One Young World and, although I may be allowing bias to take precedence, looking at the pair in charge, I can only say, why didn't happen sooner. I should point out, there is no suggestion of any impropriety from the Harkles or any celebrities associated with the "charity". One Young World, Markled it would seem. However, back to the point of the photo, it was a knee-jerk reaction to release it when and how she did. It was a fuck you, we're still royal or at least one of us is and we're not going to let you forget it. What it has served to do, is to remind everyone just how bitter Ms Markle can be.

Katie "I saw Him First" Nicholl has a new book out, "The New Royals" and is desperate to plug it and get as many sales as possible. To that end, and with no context whatsoever, she "let slip" a story about Prince George supposedly telling another child at school during a bit of toing and froing "watch out, my dad's going to be king". This opines Katie, makes young George a bit of a brat. The twittersphere went crazy, tumblr went mental, social medias everywhere went into meltdown and poor old Katiekins felt the need to defend herself saying her words had been "taken out of context". Yah think Katie? Would that be because you didn't give them any context? As many of you know, Katie works for Vanity Fair, she very often seems to be a fair minded, even handed, intelligent human being. However, when her mask slips as it did in this instance, you see her for what she is, a mean girl interested only in fame and making money using someone else's name. Remind you of anyone?

Archetypes with Meghan is back *shudder* after a short break following the death of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II. This time round, our girl was discussing the stereotyping (someone really should explain the meaning of both words and the differences between the 2 to her) of Asian women in film. By Asian women, Meghan was referring solely to Chinese, Korean and Japanese and possibly Thai, completely ignoring Indian, Pakistani, Israeli, Iranian, Turkish, Lebanese, Sri Lankan, Syrian, Bahrainian and Cambodian to name just some of the 48 countries not including dependencies which make up the continent of Asia. Is her racism showing again? Anyway, this time round, before her guests, Margaret Cho ( Korean-American Comedienne, Actress and Activist) and Lisa Ling (Taiwanese-American journalist, author and television presenter) were given the chance to talk about themselves (and Margaret has had a pretty interesting life, she's a survivor of familial sexual abuse, dated Quentin Tarantino and was openly bi-sexual at a time when it was frowned upon by everyone!) everyone had to endure the thrilling installment of how Doria used to take Flower to the Korean Spa and all these naked women from 9 to 90 would be wandering round waiting for their treatments. Now, all you internet detectives worked out that she had lifted this from a kids cartoon show called Big Mouth (plagiarism is as plagiarism does) but what interested me was did she say what year this was because we know that Doria dropped out of her life for at least 10 years. She did say she was hitting puberty so if our maths is correct, she was definitely with Thomas then and if rumours are to be believed, Doria was incarcerated. Even if she hadn't copied the story from a show she's probably caught one morning, things just don't add up. One minute they're saving up to go eat at a Sizzler and the next Doria is taking them both to a Korean Spa for the works? It's like Judge Judy says "if you tell the truth, you don't need to have a good memory". The best thing about all of this, they've employed a fact checker. On her show. This really tickles me. That girl is going to be so busy, she won't know if she is coming or going and I think she will have a very hard time separating the truth from fiction when it comes to Ms Markle because she has told that many different versions of "her truth" over the years.

Harry has a new Law Suit. It must be Thursday. Yep, Harry, Elton John, David Furnish, Elizabeth Hurley, Sadie Frost and, most notably, Baroness Lawrence have all filed suit against ANL with allegations including the planting of listening devices, paying officials and accessing bank accounts. The accusations listed by the Duke's solicitor's Hamlins LLP alleges the following: The hiring of private investigators to secretly place listening devices inside people’s cars and homes’; ‘The commissioning of individuals to surreptitiously listen into and record people’s live, private telephone calls whilst they were taking place’; ‘The payment of police officials, with corrupt links to private investigators, for inside, sensitive information’; ‘The impersonation of individuals to obtain medical information from private hospitals, clinics, and treatment centres by deception’; and ‘The accessing of bank accounts, credit histories and financial transactions through illicit means and manipulation.

As we all know, Harry does not handle the press well at the best of times and unlike his brother, has been unable to build any sort of working relationship with them (unlike his wife). To him, they will always be the enemy, they will always be the reason his beloved mother died. He and William were both "hacked" by the Sun newspaper group back in the day and what is happening now has echoes of that. Even if ANL is innocent of everything they are being accused of, in Harry's eyes they will always be guilty. I think this is one of the main reasons he has them in his sights as often as he does. I doubt winning the cases matters to him, he just wants to cause them as much upset and distress as he can.

On a lighter and brighter note, after their visit to Wales where they were a resounding success, the new Prince and Princess of Wales made a surprise visit to Northern Ireland.

Catherine seemed to be gifted ALL the flowers, she deserves them, she does, I just hope she had enough people on hand to help her carry them. The pair had fun competing to see who made the best cocktail in the quickest time, Catherine won (natch), I hope they got to drink them, especially Catherine after being accosted by the lady in the crowd telling her it would have been nicer if she was visiting when Ireland belonged to the Irish. Didn't she handle it well, a quick smile and then on to the next person, my message to the lady in question, wait until the politicians are in town and take it up with them. I should say they started their day at PIPS which provides crisis support for people at risk of suicide or self-harm (think they definitely earned those cocktails).

William got accosted by a pair of cocker spaniels who really, really, really wanted him to know what good boys and girls they were.

The last visit of the day was to Carrick Connect and Catherine got to hold another baby (William was smiling but was he also looking a bit worried at that gleam in her eye?)..

That's it from me. I will try to post more. I'm still battling the flu and trying to catch up with everything I've missed from everyone's blogs. Oodles of love, Tilly

#royalwatching #catching up #tilly's round-up

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royallyprincesslilly · 3 years

Text

Title: Healthy Competition***

Regé-Jean Page x Reader x Trevor Noah

Warning: Cursing. SMUT. Threesome. NSFW AT ALL. DP. Oral.

Words: 5k

Summary: Non-Covid world. End of Summary.

Note: I cannot be stopped. This is my first dip into either of these two on here. I tried to talk myself out of this, but I have no self-control. This is probably an acquired taste, but fuck it, I wrote this for my sanity.

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoy this.

If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG ❤️❤️

**Loosely Edited/Proofread**

**Slightly Interactive**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“A toast to Regé, our good friend who we’re out celebrating tonight. Every guy should hide their girlfriends tonight because Mr. Steal your girl has arrived,” Trevor teased.

Regé snorted and dropped his head back, laughing at his friend of almost ten years. He was absolutely ridiculous.

“Mate, you think you’re hilarious, don’t you?”

Trevor shrugged, “I mean, I am the comedian here, so--.”

He shook his head. “You’re not a very good one,” he teased back.

“Well, your tastes are slightly askew than the rest of the world. You are British after all,” Trevor quipped, making him and their shared friends bust out laughing.

“Oh, shut up. You’re the only one who has a problem with me being British, though we all know my Zimbabwean side would outperform your watered-down South African any day. The ladies prefer full strength over all else,” he slid home.

Trevor laughed loudly, slinking to the side as he snickered. He knew he had him but knew Trevor would have some comeback. This was their usual banter.

“Why do I smell a wager coming on? I feel like you’re saying you can get any woman in here to choose you over me.”

He knocked back his drink with a smile. “Maybe I am saying it.”

He watched Trevor gulp down his drink as their friends looked at each other with a cautious eye.

“All right, enough. Y'all remember the last time this happened,” Adam interjected.

“The last time? How about every time,” Marcus added before he took a sip from his glass.

“Remember that girl in Brazil, that one we met on Ipanema Beach, she owned the beach shack,” Adam reminded.

He remembered, and a few seconds after he did, he saw when Trevor did. His snickers returned.

“There was nothing wrong there,” Trevor pointed out.

“Yeah, because you won, proceeded to rub it in all night.”

“You couldn’t even bother to close the door of the shack. You just wanted me to hear her,” he said, shaking his head as the memory washed over him.

They’d gone back and forth with her all night. Each of them laid their game out, charmed her, put in their best work. He went to grab them all another round of beers and came back, and her small shack was shaking as her moans filled the night sky. Trevor’s laugh brought him out of his thoughts, making him roll his eyes.

“See, that’s why we’re not doing this,” Marcus finished.

“You’re not still salty about that, Regé, are you?”

He shook his head and raised his hands. “Not at all. you win some, and lose some.”

“One day, the two of you are going to pull this on someone who will make you two the competition,” Adam professed, making he and Trevor laugh.

“It’s not like we swindle anyone, there is consent, and everyone knows what to expect and not expect,” he threw out as he stood.

“Where you going?”

“Refill,” he said, holding his glass up to show its empty state.

He walked out of their section of the VIP area toward the VIP bar slipping through the crowd, making sure to not bump into anyone. When he was mere steps from the bar, someone bumped him from behind, sending him lunging forward, knocking into the back of someone else. He heard a gasp and automatically thought he’d spilled someone’s drink. Sliding beside the stranger, he leaned closer.

“I’m so sorry.”

You turned to him, pulling an oversized candy cane from your mouth. Instantly his eyes dropped to your mouth and that candy cane that slowly revealed itself to be several inches long. When he clocked that it was about seven inches or so that you’d pulled out of your mouth, he lost every single thing he was thinking, even his bloody name.

“Mmm, almost went too far,” you said, with a smile before you put the tip of the candy cane into your mouth. He instantly wanted to put something too far.

He watched you raise your glass to your lips before you put it back to the bar’s surface, and in went the candy cane. He was speechless, and it was something that rarely happened.

“Uh—I’m—sorry.”

You smirked and swiveled the stool to face him again and perched the candy cane to the side of your plump painted lips, and spoke. “You said that already.”

The way the red, white, and green colors of the candy cane looked with your lipstick made him wonder how other things looked with it. Clearing his throat, he looked away to behind the bar where all the bottles of liquor rested. He wasn’t trying to decide on what he wanted to drink. He was trying to gain some composure.

He heard your snort beside him. “Cat got your tongue?”

He looked to you, zeroed in on your eyes, and rose a brow. “What’s got your tongue?”

You smiled slowly, then pulled out that damned candy cane making your lips make that juicy puckered kiss sound.

“This candy cane at the moment.”

You stared at him as if silently daring him to say something to it. He smiled and nodded his head. “You brought a candy cane to a club?”

“It came with the drink,” you said, bringing the confection to the red-tinted liquid before you.

He watched you stir the liquid and return the candy cane to its rightful place—against your tongue for you to lick it slowly. He didn’t know what the hell was wrong with him. It was a damn candy cane.

“What can I get you?”

Before he could speak, you did.

“You look like a fun guy no matter what that crisp accent says. May I?”

He studied you for a few moments, then shrugged before he motioned for you to go ahead. You trailed the candy cane along your bottom lip as you looked over the bottles that lined the wall. You looked like you were in deep thought, and he made a note of how adorable you looked with your perfectly crinkled eyebrows, pursed lips, and fist resting on your jaw.

“Okay, I just need to know two things,” you began.

He smirked and sat on the stool next to you. “And what is that?”

You turned to him again. The crossing of your legs brought his eyes down to see the tempting split in the dress you wore. The luster of your skin raised the temptation he was feeling. He imagined how his hand looked on your body. It was the wrong thought at the wrong time because it made it impossible for him to look into your eyes again. He did, though, and when he did, he saw the mischievous glint in your eyes. He knew then, you were dangerous.

“Your name and favorite color.”

“Why my favorite color?”

“If you tell me red, chances are you like strawberry undertones. If blue, maybe a blueberry or blackberry.”

“What if it’s orange?”

“Then we should end this conversation now and go our separate ways because no one can pull off orange anything.”

He snorted and laughed. He liked you.

“Safe to say red is yours?” he nodded to your drink as his clue.

“Wrong, but this is about you. So tell me.”

“Regé and grey.”

Your eyes widened. “Regé as in reggae music?”

He nodded but didn’t speak.

“Wow, nice. I thought it was something stuffy like Albert.”

“Just ’cause I’m British?”

You smiled and shrugged. “And your favorite color, Regé, is grey.” I’m tempted to say grey isn’t a color, but okay. He’ll have that fifty shades of grey cocktail you tried to give me earlier.”

“Uh-oh, something fruity, huh.”

“Let’s add an extra shot for Mr. adventurous,” you added.

Turning his attention to you, he licked his lips and watched you devour that candy cane.

“What’s your name?”

You smiled and pulled the candy out of your mouth. “Y/N.”

He held his hand out for yours and waited for you to take it. Once you did, he shook it, never taking his eyes off of yours.

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

You didn’t speak for several moments, and he wondered if he should have kept that to himself.

“Yes,” you said.

“Yes? Yes, what?”

You sucked the candy cane back into your mouth and took a sip of your drink. “Yes, I’ll let you buy me another drink.”

Ten minutes came and went, then fifteen, and he was in no hurry to go back to his friends. Your conversation was entertaining and titillating. You held his attention easier than any other had. Not to mention everything you did had his heart pounding. Once you’d finished that damn candy cane, your glass was what brought his attention to your mouth. When the drinks were finished, his eyes roamed your exposed shoulders, cleavage, and thigh until his palms itched to touch.

“I see what’s been holding you hostage, over here.” Trevor’s hand rested on his shoulder as he stood to there to his left.

“Hostage? Hardly,” you responded with a smile.

“I’m Trevor,” he said, holding his hand out to you.

After a few seconds, you took it and let him shake it.

“Trev here is a good friend of mine,” he began before taking a sip of his third drink. “Meet Y/N.”

Trevor smiled again. “What a beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

He couldn’t help but smile. He knew the game had begun. However, he’d had a twenty-minute head start. He watched Trevor order you another drink before suggesting you moved from the bar to go back to their section. You didn’t answer right away, and he didn’t know what you’d decide.

“I’ll meet you there. I have to freshen up,” you said, pointing toward where the restrooms were.

He pointed to where their section was before you walked off.

“May the best African win,” Trevor said, holding out his hand, making him roll his.

~~~~~~~

-Y/N-

You made sure to reapply your lipstick and rearrange your hair as you inspected your face. Pleased that your products were holding up, you stood there just staring at yourself, making a plan. They thought they were slick, you thought to yourself.

MSG Fifi: He looked hooked.

You smirked.

MSG: He’s hot.

MSG Fifi: So is his friend. What’s the plan?

You thought for a few moments because you hadn’t decided yet.

MSG: I’m going to go have a little fun. I’ll let you know.

You adjusted your dress then walked out of the bathroom. In the loud club again, you looked around, trying to remember when they’d pointed. You didn’t remember. Suddenly you felt a body behind you and a hand on your hip.

“Lost?”

The sexy British accent told you just who it was. Smiling, you bit your bottom lip, deciding you liked how he felt pressed up on you.

“What if I said I was?”

You could feel his breath at your ear and smell the hint of grape and vodka.

“I’ll find anything you want me to,” Regé groaned, making you tilt your head back to look at him over your shoulder.

“Anything?”

He smirked then licked his lips. “I’m not if not a gentleman. Anything, Y/N.”

The look in his eyes had you frozen in place, wishing he’d bring his large hand lower. You scoffed and got yourself under control

“Good to know,” you said before walking away, leaving him to follow behind you.

Once Regé led you to the VIP section, Trevor stood holding your drink to you. Having not been born yesterday, you asked a passing waitress for a fresh drink. Neither of them took offense. When you sat, you were in the middle of both men and able to appreciate the beauty that you both were. They could have passed for brothers, and when they assured you that they weren’t, you relaxed a little more.

After an hour, you’d learned quite a few things about both men. You leaned that while Regé had this overwhelming sensual vibing coming off him, he tended to hang back physically, but his eyes were all intensity, and you could tell he preferred words. When it came to Trevor, he approached things differently. He was a flirt through and through, and you could tell he preferred touch.

They were both like opposite sides of a coin, and you couldn’t decide which side you preferred. Some days called for heads and others tails. One thing was sure; they were both feeling you, and neither of them could hide it. It was in the way Trevor touched you with sly touches and in the way Regé reacted when you went close to him to whisper something or bit your bottom lip.

Two hours and countless drinks later, you still sat there with the two men, and you’d all but made up your mind. Regé leaned to you and whispered in your ear before he met your eyes. Nodding, you took his hand and let him lead you to the dance floor. Once you got to a semi-secluded spot, the song changed to Teyana Taylor’s new school version of Tell me what you Want, and you watched him bop to the beat while keeping on point. You were impressed.

Regé spun you around, so your back pressed to his chest and his hands wrapped around you. he smelled incredible, almost as incredible as he felt. That was when your movements synced together and slowed. You were now swaying from side to side. You began circling your hips against him and let him hold your hands in the air as you got into it. Regé came to your ear and whispered.

“Tell me what you want.”

Your panties were instantly wet. Fuck, you thought. In front of you, you watched Trevor approach the two of you. Once he was in front of you, the song changed again, and the slowest, sexiest tune came on. The lights in the club changed to a deeper hue of red. Trevor came so close that his face was just inches from yours. His hand wrapped around the small of your back, pulling you against him.

Goddamn, you thought as he moved your body how he wanted it. Your eyes met, and Trevor’s hand clasped your jaw in his large but soft hand. Slowly he slid his hand across your skin before you felt a hand on your hip spin you around. Your back was now pressed to Trevor’s chest while Regé was the one who was now inches from your lips.

The two men sandwiched you between them, each focusing on different parts of you. Trevor’s hand was wrapped around your abdomen, searing absentminded circles on the material of the dress you wore, while Regé’s was squeezing your hip, sinking in his fingertips, so they marked you. Trevor’s jaw pressed to your ear, which Regé’s was resting against your cheek on the other side of your face. You doubted anyone could tell where you began and either of them stopped. When you felt a pair of lips press against your right ear, your breath hitched in your throat.

Pulling back slightly, you gazed into Regé’s sultry almond-shaped eyes, and your hand balled the fabric of his shirt at his waist, hoping to control yourself.

“Tell me what you want,” Regé repeated.

Fuck it; you thought as you brought your lips to his kissing him with the scorching energy that was between the three of you. Regé delved his tongue into your mouth, wrapping it around yours, and it was then his hand slid lower on your hip and snaked back to your ass. As he cupped it, you released a moan unable to contain it any longer. When he sucked your tongue, you pulled back and nibbled his bottom lip. His moan caught you off guard and only fueled your steadily uncapping desire.

You felt Trevor behind you begin to pull away from you, no doubt feeling like the loser of their masculine competition of the night. That was when you pulled from Regé’s lips and pulled him back to close the space he’d created. You had both men’s undivided attention, and the power you felt was unmatched. Bringing your lips to Trevor’s, you kissed him with the same fire you had Regé seconds ago.

Again, you held control of this kiss. Trevor allowed you to decide just what you wanted to do, and it was probably going to be his downfall for the night. You bit his bottom lip, and his moan swam in your mouth, making you eat it like a succubus taking his life force. The decision was made.

You pulled away and found their eyes on you. Smirking, you turned with their hands in yours and led them through the crowd. You were thankful you’d decided on the club inside the hotel rather than the other one you and Fifi were thinking of. Once in the hotel’s lobby, you beelined it to the elevator bank and wondered if they were at this hotel too. As the elevator doors opened, you stepped on and waited for either of them to press a button. This was their turn to make a decision.

You pretended not to notice them give each other a look before Regé stepped forward and pressed nineteen. You smirked and rode up in silence. Interestingly enough, the elevator made no stops until it came to the nineteenth floor. You let them lead you, this time keeping a few feet behind them. You could feel their angst as they exchanged looks every few steps, no doubt trying to formulate a plan. It’s funny they still thought they were in control.

The two stopped at the door at the end of the hall then opened it. Regé was the one holding the door open, and Trevor stood on the other side, letting you walk in. You glanced at both men, smirked then walked inside. You walked toward the bar you saw in the corner, then took up two bottles before you continued walking through the suite. You knew the layout was similar to yours, so you just walked where you expected the bedroom to be.

Finding it easily, you walked in and found some music on the bedside table system, another easy feat thanks to apple music coming with every room. You pulled two chairs in front of the large window of the bedroom. You then walked to both of them and led them each to a seat.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

You smiled at Regé’s sweetness and went toward him to sit on his lap.

“Would you like me to leave?”

He shook his head.

“Then tell me what you want.”

His lip quirked up at the side. He had to remember his words to you a little while ago.

“Will you give it to me?”

You kissed him again. as soon as your lips touched, his hands were cupping your ass, pulling you closer onto his lap. You felt the strain of his manhood against his jeans, and the anticipation had your sex quivering. Groaning, you pulled away and walked to the window. You put the bottles you held on the floor and turned to them.

“Since you like competitions so much, the first one to move loses.”

Trevor and Regé looked at each other quizzically. They didn’t get it yet. You untied the neck of the dress and slowly brought the straps down, careful not to allow it to fall from your body yet. Though the light in the room was scarce, you could tell the desire in both men’s eyes. You walked to Regé then turned your back to him.

You swayed your hips from side to side to the rhythm of the music bringing yourself down to the floor before coming back up to bend in front of his face. Peeking behind you, Regé’s jaw was clenched so tightly that you thought it had to hurt. You stood and swayed again to the sounds of Sabrina Claudio. In no time, you were lost in the music bringing your hands to the back of your neck, letting the straps hang around your waist.

Turning to them, you heard both audibly exclaim.

“Fuck.”

The accents were entirely different but sexy nonetheless.

“Something wrong?”

You stood between Trevor’s legs, topless, and circled your hips while doing your best snake charmer dance. You deemed it was acceptable because neither of them gave any indication otherwise.

“You’re gorgeous,” Trevor whispered.

You could see his hands clenching the arm of the chair and wondered just how much control he had in him. You pushed the dress off your hips and stood there in your thong.

“Fucking hell,” Regé uttered when you turned your back to them. Using the strong knees you were blessed with, you brought yourself low and popped a baby twerk, not wanting to give either of them a heart attack. Every time you changed the direction of your hips, you looked over a shoulder to watch them watch you. They looked absolutely tortured.

You walked to Trevor and stood there but stared at Regé. You motioned for him to come to you, and in seconds, he was by your side. You kissed him, taking the time to tease him with each passing second while noting he was a great kisser.

“Lay right there,” you said, pointing to the spot between your feet. Regé obeyed, then you dipped down to your knees, your sex hovering over Regé’s mouth. You were about to speak, but shock cut you off.

Regé wrapped his arms around your hips where your thighs met them and buried his face between your legs.

“Oh fuck!”

That was not the end of your shock because seconds later, you felt a wet velvety tip brush against your lips. You opened your eyes and came face to face with the impressiveness that was Trevor’s dick. You opened your mouth to speak, but a sharp stab of pleasure between your legs prohibited it. Your mouth fell open, and Trevor pushed himself into your mouth.

You almost laughed. They were the dream tag team. The room quickly filled with moans and groans as you pleased Trevor and Regé pleased you. The way his tongue flicked against your clit was quickly bringing you closer and closer to your first orgasm of the night. You knew if they had anything to say about it, you’d have more.

“Shit, your mouth—it’s—incredible,” Trevor panted, rolling his head back.

Not relenting, you bobbed your head faster on Trevor’s cock, taking him as far as you could. He grabbed your head and held it in place, then fucked your mouth, making you gag every so often.

“Uuuug!”

When he released your head you continued the pace and moaned on his flesh from the pleasure Regé was giving you but also the pleasure you got from giving it to Trevor. When you felt gentle nibbles, you pulled back and gasped, then began using your hands.

“Oh, fuck, yes! Right there, mmmm!”

Regé sucked your clit into his mouth as he reached up to one of your breasts to pinch your nipple. Following suit, Trevor did the same to the other, and that pushed you over the edge. Your screech was loud as it filled the room and probably the hall outside. Bucking your hips against his mouth, you rode his face as it was meant to be ridden.

When you rolled off of Regé and collapsed to the floor, the men stood and surrounded you. Regé went to your head while Trevor between your legs. You watched him sheath himself with a condom before he met your eyes.

“Are you sure?”

You nodded before you reached to palm Regé’s pulsating and impressive member. As your mouth slid along Regé’s length, Trevor’s slid inside your heated core, stretching you deliciously before filling you perfectly with his thickness.

“Good god,” Trevor whispered, hovering over you to catch his breath.

“You’re so tight, Y/N,” Trevor moaned, beginning to circle his hips.

With a full mouth, you were unable to speak and instead used the pleasure you felt to return it tenfold to Regé. His head lulled back while his jaw dropped, and he grunted, sending the last few inches of his need into your throat. You fought your gag the best you could. Trevor then sped his thrusts. Each time he connected your bodies, your breasts swung, and your sex clenched around him, gripping him like a vise.

Soon your moans and mumbles made it almost impossible to properly enjoy what Regé had to offer, so your hands to make up for the job your mouth couldn’t do. Trevor’s thrusts got rougher, and in seconds you’d come for the second time. Using your feet to push him off, you stood and crawled onto the bed. While lying there, you watched both men slowly approach you. Regé was the one between your legs this time while Trevor was beside you.

Trevor wrapped his lips around a pert nipple, then sucked, licked, and nibbled it. As your mewls spilled from your lips, Regé still had yet to move an inch. He kneeled there, rubbing the tip of his cock across your soaking slit.

“You’re so wet. Show me, Y/N.”

You slinked your fingers between your legs and dipped one inside to show him the evidence of your overwhelming arousal. He smiled, then sucked your finger into his mouth before he thrust forward in one powerful move.

“Fuck!”

The men ravaged you, one with their mouth and the other with their skillful appendage. Where Trevor was girthy and nicely proportioned, Regé had been blessed with girth and an overabundance of length. It didn’t take much for you to come again and again and again. When you rolled onto Regé to take control, you took your time crippling Trevor as he stood in front of you.

The room was sweltering, and your bodies were slick with sweat, so every move the three of you made, the sound of bodies rubbing together echoed throughout. If it wasn’t the slickness of skin, it was the squelching of your wetness as they plowed into you or you rode them into oblivion.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

The feel of both men nestled snugly in your tight trove was close to have to see stars. You crashed your lips to Regé, who was underneath you while Trevor was behind. He pumped more vigorously into you, making you pant and whine with each connection. Trevor, not being the one to be outdone, slammed into you, coaxing that spot in you that you knew would soon have you combust into a million specks of dust as you floated the galaxy.

“I’m coming,” Regé and Trevor both shouted as if competing for who could say it louder. You rocked your hips against Regé while slamming back onto Trevor. You intended to bring both men to their knees, but after a few movements, you realized that you’d come undone just as ferociously.

“Come for me, Y/N!”

Shivering, you tried to ignore the command as you repeated your actions over and over. Underneath you, Regé bit your nipple, and behind you, Trevor your shoulder. Either way, these men intended to sear their marks into your flesh. Something about that was so fucking hot. You sped your movements, and that was when your body shook.

“Fuck!”

Both men shook with you and released such loud grunts and groans that rivaled your own whining. Your orgasm was expected but what was not expected was how long it continued. After a minute, you were still coming with both men still trying to secure themselves as deeply into you as possible. Both thrust into you once more, and that was all you could handle before stars erupted behind your eyelids, making you clench around both of them.

Trevor and Regé gasped and hissed before the three of you dropped onto the bed. You were between them as all three of you tried to catch your breaths.

Your eyelids were heavy, your limbs tense, muscles tight, and between your legs sore. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to. So you didn’t.

~~~~~~~

-The Next Morning-

When you opened your eyes, the sun had yet to rise from behind the high rise next to the hotel. It took several moments for your vision to return clearly. When it did, you looked around, recognizing you were not alone. You felt a body nestled to your back and one in front of you. You froze, not wanting to stir anyone awake. You didn’t want a whole morning after thing. This was not what this was. It took you some time to slither from the clutches of the gorgeous men you’d spent the night with.

Once free you stood there for a few moments and took them in. Trevor was on his side back to the window completely bare assed. It was a nice one too. His arm was thrown over his head leaving only part of his face visible. He looked adorable asleep. Regé was on his back, one arm over his head tucked underneath the pillow he rested his head-on. That was where your head had laid, right on his chest as if it belonged there.

You shook off any attachment that was trying to creep its way in. You didn’t often do things like this, matter of fact, this was downright as rare as a blue moon. However, you hated the cliché of women who got attached after clear one night stands. You never wanted to be one of them because you knew for a fact men always laughed at them. You wouldn’t be that cliché, you thought to yourself. You gave the men one last look, then turned to gather your things.

Once dressed and inside the elevator, you smiled to yourself. They really thought they picked you up when in fact, you’d heard their friendly competitive banter and decided a little fun was in order. Seeing how the night went, it was safe to say you were the real winner.

MSG Fifi: Everything okay?

You smiled to yourself.

MSG: Pussy put their ass to sleep. Call me, NyQuil.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TagList:

@chaneajoyyy @caramara3 @night-of-the-living-shred @mauvecherie @areubeingserved @queenoftheworldisdead @ramp-it-up @i-just-like-fanfics @give-me-a-million-dollars-pls @wondersofdreaming @koko-michelle

#risk it all fic #regé jean page #rege jean page fanfiction #trevor noah #trevor noah fanfiction #black fanfiction #healthy competition fic

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it-was-summer · 3 years

Text

Video Killed the Radio Star- Chapter 8 (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hello!!! After a very very very long hiatus, school is over and I am ready to write again. I'm sorry for dropping off the face of the earth, but I did indeed get burnt out this semester and I just needed some time to recover. I also got sick with COVID-19, so I'm sorry that chapter 8 took so long to write. As regards to the things in my ask box, I will be answering them as soon as I post this chapter today. I will be working over the Summer, but I promise to write over the Summer. Thank you all for being kind and I hope that this chapter or two nerds being nerds makes up for some of it... a little at least? Also the text will be italicized

Warnings: One? Curse word? Fluff and texting?

Plot: Spencer and you fight against all judgement and ignore the growing feelings the two of you have for each other. Spencer sends you a text.

Word Count: 2.1K

Spencer had come and gone, and now your couch carried the faint smell of peppermint and old books. The moon peered through your living room window as you poured steaming water into a mug, the smell of peppermint making your stomach flip pleasantly. Your mind wandered dangerously, thinking about how sweet Spencer’s laugh sounded when you nitpicked something the Doctor had said.

Thinking about how he stood in front of your bookcase and how bright his smile became seeing The Nightingale and the Rose amongst the masses, his fingers brushing the spine for a second before he let out a soft ‘oh’. You shook your head from side to side gently, trying to shake the recent memories from your brain as you took a short sip of your tea.

You couldn’t help but feel dirty thinking about Spencer. If you were just thinking about him you would’ve felt better, but you weren’t thinking about Spencer necessarily. You were thinking about how soft his hands felt in the split second the two of you reached for the remote. You were thinking about how he used that same hand to push back his hair from his eyes, how the dying sunlight outside reached his eyes, and how he looked when he lingered for a second too long at the door.

That wasn’t right. You weren’t supposed to think about him like that, you didn’t want to. Every lingering thought was shoved into the back of your mind in a forceful act of rebellion. You needed to remain grounded, you couldn’t let yourself get carried away. He was your friend and he was going to remain your friend, just a friend.

The peppermint tea felt thick as it went down your throat, a soft chime bringing you back to reality. Your hand shot over to your phone, feeling desperate for any kind of distraction. Your mother had texted you a simple ‘Hi’ and you felt your shoulders relax instantly. You hit the call button.

___

Spencer stood in the middle of a park, he wasn’t there for a case or to play chess, he was just there-- sitting on a red blanket. His head raised to the sky as a breeze shook through his hair sweetly. He heard a gentle and familiar laugh beside him, his head snapping away from the blue sky to look at you. “What are you laughing at?”

“Nothing,”

Spencer frowned, sitting up on his elbows, eyes locked onto yours, silently interrogating you. You waved him off with a smile, “Fine,” you said, leaning your head into the palm of your hand. “I never get to see you like this, so free.”

“I’m always free, thank you very much,” Spencer taunted uncharacteristically as he felt your hand shove into his shoulder with a gentle jab.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” soft wind blew your hair into your face and Spencer could already feel his hand moving to push the hair out of your eyes, “You’re always worrying about work or a case or something else, sometimes it feels like you’re running a thousand miles a minute and I can’t catch up, but sometimes it’s nice to just see you be still for a while.”

Spencer felt pleasant shivers pass through his spine, opening up his mouth to whisper something sweet to say to you, but the words never got the chance to leave his throat as he woke up in his dark bedroom.

His eyelids fluttered gently, begging him to fall back asleep against his will. Spencer forced his eyes open, turning his head to the side to look at the time glowing on the digital clock that sat upon his nightstand. Four in the morning.

Spencer felt his face grow warm as he laid awake in bed, thinking about you. Your laugh, your smile, your eyes, your hands. Spencer didn’t like to touch people, being a slight germaphobe, he tried to avoid touching other people as much as possible. So why was he so comfortable with it in a dream? He didn’t believe that dreams reflected the subconscious, but sometimes he ignored that gnawing feeling inside his brain and believed in dream analysis.

This was one of those times. He knew that if he mentioned anything to Derek, he would make fun of him, and then he would tell Penelope and then everyone would know. So maybe this was something he was going to keep to himself. He wordlessly decided that he wouldn’t tell anyone, it felt wrong to tell anyone. You were hurting. Recovering.

Besides, if he said something-- if he reacted to it, wouldn’t that make this feeling grow? He bit his lip, rolled over on his other side, closed his eyes, and tried to resume the dream he had just woken up from.

A lump filled Spencer’s throat as he stepped through the elevator, coffee’s in hand. He wasn’t the best at lying about things and he worked with profilers. Literal people that could look at him and dissect his brain without him saying a word. Usually, he had the upper hand, usually, he didn’t feel so different. He had no reason to feel so strange, he was just happy, was it so strange that he felt happy? When Prentiss’s eyes fell on him, he decided yes.

The team didn’t always say something when they noticed something was off with Spencer, but most of the time they made a habit to say some teasing remark in passing. Spencer wasn’t sensitive, nor was he immune to throwing out some special one-liners of his own, he was just skittish about receiving them.

“Spencer,” Emily’s voice cut through the room, snapping Spencer’s head up from his coffee. “You seem,” she paused “Weird.”

“Weird? Reid?” Derek chuckled softly, eyes meeting Spencer’s for a quick second.

“Yep, always weird.”

“Yeah, okay, he’s being weird,”

Spencer took a long sip of his coffee, his fingertips gripping the cup a little tighter in a desperate attempt to calm himself down. He had no reason to feel weird, no reason at all. It’s not like his dream was real. It had just been so long since Spencer had liked someone as much as he liked you. That wasn’t the right way to think about it; he simply had a crush on you. That was all it was, a crush.

“I just had a good night,” he muttered nervously into the lid of his cup.

“Yeah, with a cute little miss thing that lives in Richmond.”

“Richmond?” mused Emily with a smile.

Spencer frowned at Derek, “Who even told you that? Was it Penelope, because she told me she wouldn’t tell,”

“When she says that, she means she won’t tell Hotch, but she’ll most likely always tell me.”

Emily waved her hand from side to side, “Wait go back,” she pointed at Spencer “Did you have a date yesterday?”

“No!”

“Yes.”

“No, it wasn’t a date. It was coffee. We drank coffee and talked.” Spencer argued quickly, making him seem guilty in a matter of seconds.

“Can she even do anything with that boot on?” Emily teased, earning a laugh from Derek.

“Come on, Prentiss. Reid only makes moves on girls in the middle of a case, not after.”

“That was once!”

“So you made a move on her then?” Emily implored gently, letting the interrogative teasing be cut short.

“No, we went back to her apartment to watch a show, and then I went home,” Spencer answered, trying to let his nerves settle down, when he said it out loud it sounded like it was nothing. It sounded silly. Derek and Emily shot each other a glance, shared a smile, and then both mouthed a simple ‘okay’, before going their separate ways.

Spencer knew that Emily was probably running over to whisper something to Rossi or J.J and Derek was probably heading over to Penelope to tell her what just happened. He could care less, he needed to work, and they all needed to work judging by the way Hotch walked into his office.

You had woken up near noon to a text that simply read; Hello.(: It was short, sweet, and from Spencer. To be fair, he had mentioned that he wasn’t the best with texting people, so the fact that he sent you a text said something.

You didn’t want to seem too eager as you texted Hey, did you have lunch yet?

You set the phone down, trying to get over the initial feeling of embarrassment that caused your cheeks to flush, remembering in a second that you were a nerd. You couldn’t text people for shit and as you stared at the message you had just sent Spencer it showed.

You sat up, sliding off to the edge of the bed, hand reaching for the phone as another chime made your heart burst. No, I spent lunch on a plane to Georgia.

Georgia?

Chime.

We got another case and the whole team is running on coffee.

Eat something soon.

Chime.

Can’t ignore a demand like that.

Good, don’t.

Chime.

Text me later?

Absolutely (:

You pressed your lips together, fighting back the growing smile on your lips as you left your phone on your bed, today already seemed promising.

Being out yesterday made you realize how much you missed being outside, the only downside was it took forever for you to get anywhere. So, you called your mom out for lunch. You found the slow walking easier to deal with when you were talking to someone else and she was worried about you, so it was a win-win.

The restaurant was crowded, crowded areas usually made you feel nervous like you were being watched. Being watched wasn’t so bad, being kidnapped was worse, and being physically abused was worse than being kidnapped. So you could deal with some crowds.

Certain things kept catching you by surprise, like the way slow-moving cars rolling down the street made you tense up, and the way you clenched your jaw as the waitress’s name tag shined ‘Heather’.

Your mother was kind enough to reach over the table to hold your hand in hers, a smile brightening her eyes effortlessly, “You look lovely today,”

You let out a small sigh and shrugged “I had a good morning,”

“Really?” she repeated, smile growing wider.

“Yeah,” you squeezed her hand gently “I went out for coffee yesterday with Spencer, too.”

“The F.B.I agent, Spencer?” You nodded quickly, hand leaving hers as you looked through the menu. “Was this a date?”

“Mom,” your eyes peered up at her, lips turned down into a gentle frown “I just went through something very traumatic, I don’t think it was a date.”

“What was it then?”

“A friend, being nice to another friend.” You replied quickly, trying to move your focus back onto the menu in your hands. You heard a small sound from your mother that reassembled an ‘okay’ before she went silent, but you could tell she was burning with questions.

You didn’t blame her, you never got out much but when you did, she was the first one to know. You had mentioned over the phone last night that the two of you were friends and he was helping you through so of the tougher things that recovery involved, but she seemed to ignore that then. You had yet to mention the addictive tendencies you were feeling, the yearning for a release, an outlet of some kind. You knew it would break her heart, so you kept quiet.

“I like him,”

“Mom,” you scolded with a smile, setting down the menu. “You met him once.”

“And he made a good impression,”

“You left the room!”

“I can read body language,”

“Okay, mom,” You scoffed as you took a sip of your water.

“All I’m saying is,” she put her hands together “Recovering doesn’t mean you have to ignore every opportunity that comes your way because you don’t think it’s the right time.” She met your eyes and let out a tiny laugh, “I know you and you won’t let anything happen if you feel like it’s not the right time, sometimes it’s not a bad thing to let things happen. Romantic things or otherwise.”

You opened your mouth to say something but instead, you let out a tiny sigh, nodding slowly. She didn’t need to know how miserable the night made you, how suffocating a day alone was for you, so you nodded. After all, maybe she was right, she was your mother.

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bbrandy2002 · 3 years

Text

Happy Birthday Burnsy!

The Country AU -- I'm Gonna Live Where The Green Grass Grows

Pairing: Drake x Alyssa, Liam x Riley, and a whole host of other TRR characters.

A/N: This was a silly little idea I had months ago for an AU built around the places and people where I grew up. I never had plans to actually write it, but I mentioned it to Burns, and well ... she wanted it lol so here we are. And she’s already read half of this and is the one who made the mood board for it and the song inspo hahaha. Thank you to @mskaneko for the edits of our OTP’s, and @charlotteg234 for pre-reading the first half of this.

Trigger warning: Gun usage, hunting, mild language ... I think that’s it

@burnsoslow

My dearest friend, when I think back at where we were one year ago, I can’t help but be reminded of the vastly different world we live in now. On February 5, 2020, there was no covid keeping us sheltered and fearful, families were complete, jobs were stable, and so many of the things we worried about then simply pale in comparison to now, Life wasn’t so bad. But here we are with all these new changes and mindsets. Through it all, one thing remained consistent: YOU. You have been my strength, my rock, the anchor that grounded me. We have cried together, laughed a lot together, worried for each other, and celebrated those small victories that were important to each other. And I get so happy when someone comments about how much they love the friendship between Riley and Alyssa because it's the most real part of Fearless. If anyone ever wanted to know what we’re like, it's all written out in that story. I’ve got your back, and you have mine. You’re my best friend and I just love the hell out of ya! I hope your birthday is amazing and that this fic is everything you wanted for this AU.

------------------------------------

On Sunday mornings in southern Georgia, you did one of two things: You woke up early for church services or woke up late to watch NFL football.

Some people figured out a long time ago how to do both.

Sitting in the back pew of the First Cordonian Church of Everlasting Peace, Alyssa Walker sat quietly with the sweetest southern belle smile, nodding her head along to the beautiful words spoken during Pastor Hakim’s sermon and hiding a pair of earbuds lodged in each ear.

She and her husband, Drake, had laid claim to the pew when they were teens trying to sneak a kiss or two during prayers. After ten years of marriage, they no longer needed to sneak kisses but stayed in that same seat, believing the biggest sinners should stay as far away from the minister as possible. Why be the barrier that may prevent the spirit from reaching the rest of the congregation? The couple felt it was the least they could do.

They were actually pretty good folks and well respected in their community. Alyssa had taught first grade for eight years at the local elementary school, where her two children, nine-year-old Audrey and six-year-old Patrick, also attended. Her best friend since third grade, Riley, was the art teacher there.

Drake worked nearby as the lead mechanic at Rys and Sons Chevrolet out on North Ramsford Avenue. Constantine had owned the auto dealership for 35 years before passing it down to his sons, Leo and Liam, when he ran for and became the town's mayor. Leo peaced out, heading to South Florida, while Liam took on the sole responsibility of ownership himself.

And while most people in this sleepy little town of Cordonia were Falcons fanatics, Alyssa grew up rooting for the team where her parents were born and raised before settling in Georgia as newlywed lawyers: The Chicago Bears.

With the game against the Packers blaring into her ear, she kept a keen eye on the rest of her fellow parishioners. When they clapped, she clapped. When they sang, she sang. She raised her hands in hallelujahs when they did. She had learned to read lips and could “Amen” and “Praise God” right on cue with the rest of them. All the while, she sat in contentment, listening to her weekly football games.

“The score with 14 seconds left in the second quarter is Chicago -- 14, Green Bay -- 17. The Bears have the ball on the 5-yard line. It’s third and goal. If Trubisky can score here, they’ll go into the locker room at halftime with a lead for the first time in this game, or possibly tie it all up with a field goal after this down. This is a huge, HUGE play, Jim ...”

Alyssa twined her fingers together and lowered her forehead onto them as she waited with bated breath for the announcer to call the play-by-play. As far as anyone else knew, she was praying fervently for the Hebrews crossing the parted Red Sea away from Pharoah's army that the pastor was chronicling.

“And here comes the snap. Trubisky backs up. He tosses to Robinson in the end zone. OHHH! So close… batted away by Alexender …”

“JESUS!” Alyssa yelled out in anger. With earbuds in, she didn’t realize how loudly that just came out of her mouth. Drake nudged her in the thigh. She glanced over at him for a second before he nodded to the 123 pairs of eyes that had all turned at once in her direction. It instantly dawned on her that everyone in the congregation heard the outburst.

Feeling the color drain from her face, Alyssa placed a hand over her chest and addressed, “I am soooo into this sermon, Hakim. Woohoo! Go, Jesus, go!” She pumped her fist in the air like she was rooting him on.

Drake dropped his face onto Patrick’s shoulder, who was sitting on his lap, to cover the incessant laughter that threatened to spill out of him. He was doing a terrible job of it, as a momentary burst of muffled snickers could be heard through the sound of the game playing in Alyssa’s ear. Her husband was nothing but a big kid himself -- she wouldn’t change that for anything.

“Mommy,” Audrey whispered next to her. “It’s about Moses. Not Jesus.”

Alyssa smiled, patting her daughter’s knee. “Same thing, baby. They both performed miracles.” She cut her eyes to the phone hidden under the cardigan draped across her thighs. “And the Bears need a miracle right now, guys,” she muttered, “Part those shithead Packer’s defensive line, Lord. It’s time to help my Bears get to the promised land.”

“Going for it on fourth down, Trubisky drops back. The Packer defense is putting a lot of pressure on the Bear’s offensive line. Every man is covered in the end zone. He has no one to throw to, Jim. They’re running out of time. Four seconds left. And, NOOO, they sack Trubisky on the 10-yard line … WAIT THE BALL IS LOOSE … THE BALL IS LOOSE ... he fumbled the ball. The Packers are scrambling to get it. There are green and white jerseys all over that ball. BUT LOOK … Green Bay’s Klark picks it up. He’s running the other way … and he just slipped … he just slipped, and the football fell right into the hands of Chicago’s Robinson --”

Alyssa grabbed Drake’s thigh, her fingers digging deeply with hope and panic. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” her stressed words weren’t audible to the crowd, but they were speaking volumes in her heart.

“--Robinson’s on the 20, now 15, he’s sweeping past the defense to the 10 -- 5 -- TOUCHDOWN, CHICAGO!!!”

"FUCK YES!" Alyssa jumped up, her arms outstretched in a V shape. “Hallelujah. Holy shit. Thank ya, Jesus.” She let out a huge sigh of relief, feeling nothing short of elated, not concerned in the slightest by the heads that twisted around again.

Hakim stood slack-jawed from the raised platform for a moment, his tallish physique slouching on the pulpit, before adjusting the microphone and clearing his throat deeply. "I'm certainly glad, Sister Alyssa is ... feeling the spirit this morning."

"I am feeling it, Brother Hakim," She shook her head profusely. "I. Am. Feeling it." She shot him a dimpled grin.

Drake snorted loudly, covering his face with one hand and grabbing the side of her dress to pull her back down with the other.

They turned to each other, neither one able to control the snickering and shaking of their bodies. Drake lifted a sleeping Patrick over his shoulder while Alyssa grabbed Audrey's hand; the Walker couple decided they were too immature for church this morning.

They laughed all the way to the parking lot.

"It's never a dull moment with you, baby girl," Drake chuckled, turning over the ignition.

"You know me …” She blew on her nails before rubbing them against her chest. “... just doing the Lord's work."

--------------

It was customary in Cordonia for families to gather together each week for a big supper after church.

The Walkers traditionally took turns hosting with Liam and Riley, and Constantine and Regina. This week's meal was at the elder Ryses.

Sitting down at the dining room table, everyone licked their chops, hungry and ready to dig into all the made-from-scratch southern goodness Mrs. Regina had prepared: Fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, coleslaw, macaroni and cheese, green beans with hamhock, corn-on-the-cob, deviled eggs, biscuits, sweet tea, and coffee. It was all accompanied by two containers of broccoli salad, Alyssa picked up from the Piggly Wiggly deli after church, and Riley's lopsided carrot cake.

There was always a lot of food, a lot of love, and what would it be in a small town without a little gossip here and there.

"Regina, you've outdone yourself on this meal," Liam raved while placing his five-month-old son in a high chair and fastening the clasps. "If it tastes as good as it smells, we're all in for a big treat."

Everyone agreed as she sat down, Constantine pushing her chair in with a peck to the top of her head. "Thank you, Liam." She looked up at her husband with a sincere smile, rubbing his arm. "Only the best for our family."

She meant every word of that as she and Constantine glanced around the table at all the cheerful faces of the people they loved most — that included Drake and his family.

Drake's father had been the sheriff for many years before his untimely death, while the younger Walker was a teen. Connie had never met a braver, more hard-working man than Jackson; the now mayor stepped in after that death to be the father figure in Drake's life. Drake was already best friends with Liam, and over time, the family just considered him one of their own. Drake and Alyssa's children referred to them as Mamaw and Papaw Rys.

As everyone settled in and passed the food around the table, the doorbell rang; 7-year-old Ellie -- Liam and Riley's oldest -- jumped up to answer it. With everyone focused on getting their helpings, Riley leaned over and whispered to Alyssa, "Any more scoop on Savannah?"

Alyssa passed the potatoes to her and answered in a hushed tone, "I drove past her house yesterday ... Chuck was there. His big rig was backed right up into the driveway. They're not even trying to hide it anymore."

"I knew it." Riley slapped a scoop of potatoes onto her plate, passing them across to Liam. "When does Bertrand get back from that Bankers Convention in Atlanta?"

"I think Max said on Tuesday. And I guarn-damn-tee, Chuck will be there until then."

"Of course he will. Have you told Drake yet?"

Alyssa shook her head, peeking over at her husband, who was in hog heaven, dousing everything on his plate with white gravy, blissfully unaware of their idle chitchat. She turned back to Riley. "Not yet. You know how protective he is. I'll need to hide the gun cabinet keys when he finds out ... if he finds out. You remember how upset he got when Bianca got caught at the Love's Truck Stop with Landon Ebrim over the summer. His mama can do what she wants, but not with a married man."

Riley agreed with a nod before taking a sip and swallowing her sweet tea. "Ya know, I've never seen sweet Emmaline that angry."

"Yeah, me neither. She sure whopped ass that day." They both giggled lightly. "Landon's dentures flew clean across that truck lot."

"I saw her the other day at the Food Lion, grinnin' like a baked possum. Got that ol' dog for everything he had."

Alyssa huffed, "Cept' his nuts."

Ellie ran back in and hopped in her chair. "Miss Olivia is here!"

Alyssa stiffened, clutching her fork a little tighter before letting out a faint groan. Not that she didn't like the Assistant Principal of Cordonia Elementary -- she was her boss, after all, and they grew up together -- she could just be a little off-putting, sometimes with her treatment of Drake. In light of Olivia's recent divorce, she had, however, started directing most of her scorn on her ex-husband, Anton.

Everyone greeted Olivia as she strolled in behind the youngster, shrugging her jacket off and tossing it on a counter with her purse. "I smelled your chicken and taters all the way from Lythikos Drive, Regina. You know how I love a good rib stickin' meal."

"Is Travis and Waylon here?" Patrick piped up eagerly from the children's table, hoping to have some boys to play with rather than the three little girls who kept ganging up on him.

Olivia pulled out a chair and started loading her plate down. "They're with their daddy this weekend, sugar. I'll tell them you asked about them."

Drake lifted his coffee mug, not making eye contact with anyone. "Speaking of ... I saw Anton yesterday at the Dollar Tree ... with someone." He smirked into his drink. While everyone else knew who and was trying to avoid the elephant in the room, he owed her for years of squabble.

"Who? Madeleine?" Olivia spat, adding heaping spoonfuls of sugar to her already overly sweetened tea. "Bless her rotten heart, he was seeing her before our break up. Moved in with her right after the divorce was final, so I hope she's enjoyed cookin' and cleanin' after my youngins' all weekend, cause she's gonna be doin it a hell of a lot more now that she got herself fired."

Madeleine was a bank teller in the drive-thru at First Cordonia and also Leo's ex-fiancee.

"Madeleine got fired?" Alyssa asked in surprise. "She's been there for years."

The redhead swirled the sugar around in her tea with a spoon before licking it off and continuing, "Mmm-hmm. Bertrand caught her on video, stuffing her gaudy drawers into the vacuum tubes at the bank and sending them to that bastard when he drove through to make a deposit. He was making deposits alright. Right between her scrawny, cankled ass --"

"Olivia!" Liam quickly interjected, knowing once she got going, it would likely turn R-rated with several little ears listening. "I'm dying to hear how the Christmas Festival for next Saturday is coming along." He shot a look across the table at Drake for getting her worked up. Drake simply grinned.

By late afternoon, supper had been eaten, dishes cleaned, and pants unbuttoned. After a couple of hours of chatting on the back porch and watching the kids play, the two younger couples packed up leftovers Regina insisted they take home and were ready to hit the road.

Liam and Riley lived next door and walked out with the Walkers who were making their way to the Tahoe parked on the street.

Alyssa bounced and cooed over baby Jacob before handing him back to Riley and getting into the vehicle's passenger seat.

Liam was leaning into the driver's side window, having a casual discussion with Drake about the opening day of deer season next Saturday and asking what time he wanted to head out.

Alyssa was half-listening and half-working the stereo when an idea popped into her head. "You know what would be fun?” Both men stopped talking and glanced over at her. “We should all go?”

Drake knit his brows. “Go where?

“Hunting. We can make it a double date. You and me, Riley and Liam. The great outdoors. Some quality time together. I’ll even make snacks for everyone. It’ll be fun,” her voice was chipper. She was excited about it.

She was also deadly serious.

So were the dubious looks Drake and Liam gave each other over the thought of taking their wives on the most important hunting event of their year. Not that either didn't enjoy spending time with their significant others, but hunting was a whole different world. It was a one-person sport where you spent the day away from reality and responsibilities and just enjoying the great outdoors —a place to be alone and experience the thrill of a good hunt.

“Guys, I’m serious. We go fishing together, and I’ve shot targets plenty of times. I really wanna go hunting with you. Riley wants to go too, don't you?” She cast an inquisitive glance out her window at Riley, who glared back with the biggest what-the-fuck look she'd ever made. “See, she wants to go too.”

“Baby,” Drake began softly, giving her knee light squeezes. “I don’t mind taking you, but this is opening day. We’ll be in the woods for hours, in the cold. It’s not really what someone would consider a ‘date.’ And we’re going to the Festival that night … we’ll get a chance to spend time together there.”

She held his gaze as her lips began to quiver. “I understand. You .. you need time to be away from me, and it was a dumb idea anyway --”

“No,” Drake cut in. His heart plummeted from the sadness in her voice and eyes. “That’s not it at all. I love spending time with you. And if you really want to do this, then … let’s do this.”

“Really? We can go together?” Drake nodded with a smile before she squealed in his ear and pulled him into a tight hug. “I can’t wait! Thank you!”

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Liam let out a heavy breath as he looked over at Riley -- The woman he knew would not be a fun hunting partner next week -- still standing on the sidewalk, appearing like she might faint. “Yeah ... I can’t wait either.”

---------------------

Saturday. 5:15 a.m. The cellphone alarm on Drake’s bedside table let off a series of rhythmic beeping sounds and vibrations.

The alarm wasn’t needed. The man had been awake for hours, listening to his wife's gentle snores; the anticipation of bringing home at least a 12-pointer keeping him from falling back asleep.

Letting out a ferocious yawn and a hearty stretch, he picked up his phone to dismiss the alarm and rolled over to wake Alyssa.

With her ass perfectly curled into the space between his stomach and thighs, his hands settled on her curvy hip, jostling her slightly. “Time to get up, my little peach. We gotta get crackin’ before all the good deer are gone.”

“I just need one more hour, okay? Thanks,” she protested with a drowsy murmur, pulling the pillow over her head.

Drake chuckled, rubbing soothing circles over her back. “No. We have to get up now. We’re wasting time, sleepyhead. Unless … you don’t want to go.”

Alyssa’s heavy eyes stung as she tried to peel them open one at a time. “No, I wanna … go ...” she trailed. Her eyes slowly shut again, and she was out.

On a day like today, Drake was usually up and ready in ten minutes. Once he could finally get his wife out of bed, dressed, and back awake again from where she fell asleep on the toilet, it was close to 45 minutes.

Maxwell, who was also a childhood friend and the music teacher where Alyssa taught, rented the room over their garage. He agreed to come down that morning and watch the kids while the pair spent their morning in the woods. Bianca used to help out in that regard, but the kids complained she slept the whole time, and Alyssa was pretty sure her mother-in-law smoked pot around them.

Drake loaded up the truck, placing his rifle and a smaller .22 caliber for Alyssa behind the seat. Dragging herself slowly to the vehicle, the night sky still pitch black and her breath turning to thick vapors in the frigid air, she listlessly tossed a Taylor Swift tote bag on the floorboard and climbed in.

Drake looked at his phone after everything was packed up to see if Liam had sent a message about being late. It was unusual for him not to be there already. Typically, his best friend was up and at his house before Drake was even ready. He sent off a quick text to check.

Drake: Where you at, man?

Liam: Running late. Riley had to put makeup on and do her hair.

Liam: I’m having so much fun already 😑

Liam: snark

Drake: Lyss couldn’t decide which gloves looked the best with her orange vest. I guess she wants to impress the deer before she kills them.

Liam: We’re not catching deer today. We’ll be lucky if we catch a cold. Be there in 10.

Twenty minutes later, Liam’s gray Silverado pulled onto the Walker’s gravel drive. Riley had wanted biscuits and gravy from McDonald's, and she had to run back inside to pee, so that set them back. But, with everyone now there, they were finally ready to head out.

Just down the rural road from where Drake and Alyssa lived, the current sheriff of Cordonia, Bastien, owned several acres of unoccupied land that he used for recreation. He had been a close friend of Drake’s dad and agreed to let Drake and Liam hunt and fish on his property whenever they wanted.

Turning onto the dirt road and opening the gate, the four friends arrived at their spot just as dawn was breaking.

No one spoke much as they trekked through the mud, sticks, and brittle fall leaves that littered the path to the deer stands. Riley and Alyssa were too exhausted to say anything. Drake and Liam just weren’t used to talking at all.

"Riley, love,” Liam whispered softly. “Can you watch how you’re walking? The noise is going to scare the deer away.”

“I can’t help it if … " She reacted loudly in frustration before Liam placed a finger over his lips, and she resumed speaking more quietly. “I can’t help it if there're leaves everywhere. I’m walking on them as delicately as possible.”

“How much further? I think my toes are frozen and I need coffee.” Alyssa bemoaned while walking on the balls of her heels. Drake was basically dragging her sluggish body by the hand. Her eyes were still drooping from exhaustion with every careful step.

“Just over yonder of that fence row is our stand.” He pointed out.

Alyssa aimed her flashlight around the woods in several spots. "And where do we pee at?"

Liam lightly snorted as Drake answered matter-of-factly. "Just over yonder of that fence row below our stand."

"Oh ... " her tone was small and apprehensive, "... I guess that's ... okay." She glanced back timidly at Liam, who was following close behind.

He shielded his eyes from the beam of her flashlight in his face and frowned. "I'm not going to watch you pee, Alyssa."

Riley gasped, "Eww! I don't want Drake watching me pee either."

"Shhhhh." Liam was quick to remind her again of the volume of her voice.

"Stop, shushing me, Liam! Those deer don't know I'm out here."

Drake grunted, then whipped around to face the three of them. "Would you keep your voices down? No one's watching anybody take a piss," he whisper-yelled. "Lyssa and I will be at least a hundred yards away from ya'll. Riley, I promise you can piss your little heart out, and I won't see it."

"We're separating?" Alyssa asked wistfully. "What if I need to ask Riley something, and she can't hear me yelling across to her?"

"You'll just have to ask her when we're done, baby girl. And ... please don't yell questions to her while we're out here. Low voices."

They continued on with their noisy hike.

"Having so much fun," Liam grumbled to himself.

-------------------

Liam and Riley headed to their tree stand as Drake helped Alyssa climb up the ladder to theirs.

The stand and ladder were made of plywood -- chipped and faded from years of exposure to the elements -- and were attached at the apex to an oak tree about twenty feet off the ground. At the top it had enough room to take a step onto, with a wooden seat just wide enough to accommodate them. One plank rail came out on both sides.

Alyssa plopped down onto the seat, clutching her tote bag of goodies on her lap. She lifted the brim of the orange beanie she borrowed from Drake -- that smelled of animal carcass and gun powder -- above her eyes and peered out to the wilderness spread monumentally below. She closed her eyes and slowly inhaled the fresh, dewy air, taking in the sounds of twittering birds, branches clashing from the nearby squirrel frolicking on them, and the rippling of a bubbling brook streaming down the hill.

A pleasant warmth overcame her as Drake's much larger body sat down next to her and protected her from the frosty wind blowing in from his side.

Alyssa wrapped her arms around his waist, snuggling into him. "I can see why you like this so much. It's so quiet and peaceful ... look how purty it is out here, Drake. It's just real purty, isn't it?"

Working diligently on getting their gear together, he stopped briefly to look out; affection glowed in his eyes. “It sure is, darlin’. Almost as purty as you ... and notice I said 'almost.'” He winked, and Alyssa blushed, feeling that same love trickling up inside her she'd had since they were teenagers. Drake could charm the pants off a chipmunk, but she was thankful he only used that gift on her.

"Sooo ... " She drawled in her thick Southern accent. "How long will it be before the deer start coming out?"

Drake drew the barrel of her gun back after loading it with shells and explained, "Don't know. It could be minutes. It could be a few hours. Just whenever they head this way, I reckon."

Perplexed, Alyssa nodded slowly. "A few hours? I s'pose that's okay. What do you do while you're waiting?"

He shrugged, passing a gun to her. "You just ... sit here."

"You just sit here and do what?"

Drake leaned over to kiss into her orange cap and replied, "Wait."

"Wait." She acknowledged. "I can do that. I'll just sit here ... and wait."

Several minutes had passed, and Alyssa was already bored with listening to nature, Drake's gurgling stomach, and sitting quietly with nothing to do. Every so often, a shotgun blast was heard in the distance, signifying either someone out there had gotten their prize or Riley had driven Liam insane. It was the only break from the monotony that came with the boredom of sitting in a tree for who knew how many hours.

Letting out a giant exhale that caught Drake's attention, she propped her rifle against the railing and pulled the cloth tote that was sitting between her boots into her lap. Rummaging through the bag, she pulled out her phone and began thumbing out a message.

Drake furrowed his brows and asked, "What're you doin'?"

"Just texting Riley,' she answered dismissively. He shook his head and leaned it back against the tree while she formulated her message.

Alyssa: You still alive over there? How's it going?

Riley: This is boring as shit.

Riley: And now my texting is apparently scaring away the deer. F the deer Liam. F all the damn deer!!!! What were you thinking, Lyss?

Alyssa: I was thinking we could spend quality time with our husbands. The men we love and cherish with all of our hearts. I’m having a great time with Drake so far 😍😘

Alyssa: And no one twisted your arm to come bitch.

Riley: Liam's just staring through binoculars. He hasn’t spoken in 20 minutes except to tell me to point the gun away from him or to quit moving. Let’s go get our hair did at Adelaide's.”

Alyssa: OHHH Yes! And get Chinese food ... CRAB RANGOONS!! I'll have Drake drive us back. Girls Day Out. Love you!

Drake let out a belch and blew it away when Alyssa turned to him with a dazzling smile and a sparkle in her blues. "Can you drive Riley and me back to the house?"

"What? Right now?" he shrieked. She answered him with a cheerful nod. "What happened to all that talk about wanting to spend quality time with me?"

"I still do. But ... we're just sitting here, not really doing anything. I could be getting my hair done for tonight's festival. I also have a ton of laundry to do, some papers to grade, and I’m supposed to be making the Devereaux’s famous peach cobbler for the raffle. If I leave now, I’ll have time to do all of it.” Alyssa knew she probably wouldn’t do half of that, and Audrey would likely make the cobbler, but it made the situation sound more urgent.

"It's opening day, baby. I'm not leaving this spot." He reached into the pocket of his overalls and pulled out his keys. "If you and Riley wanna take my truck, I'll ride back with Liam."

She gave him an exasperated look. "I don't know my way back to the truck. And I sure as hell know Riley doesn't."

He smirked, stuffing his keys back. "Then you're stuck."

The next hour was brutal. Alyssa texted Riley to alleviate the boredom for several minutes, but there had been no responses in a long while. She wasn't aware that Liam tossed her friend's phone over the hill when she started making TikTok videos of her plight -- Liam took his deer hunting seriously: No noise meant no noise.

Drake wasn't much better; he was quieter than his usual self. It wouldn't have been so bad if she could at least talk. An occasional whispered word was not going to cut it.

Alyssa sighed heavily. She wiggled around for comfort. She unwrapped a Nutty Bar. She crunched. She opened a can of pop. She tapped her fingers. She flipped the pages of a magazine. Each one got that look from Drake that let her know it was too loud. If she ever made it out of there, she planned to jabber and stir until she couldn't do it anymore.

After another half-hour of stewing quietly in her thoughts without a sign of a deer anywhere, Alyssa decided now was the time to finally just talk.

"Do you ever think about having another baby?" It was a topic that had been on her mind for a while. To her surprise, Drake didn't give her a look or even freak out the way she anticipated. Despite his own rule of silence, he even responded in kind.

"Yeah. Kind of a lot."

Her right brow darted up. "Really?"

Drake took a breath and shifted the gun across his lap. "I mean, of course. It's always been my dream to settle down and have a bunch of youngin's with the woman I love." He studied her lit-up face; he'd swore she'd gotten more beautiful with age. That's why he hesitated when he added, "But ... "

Her shoulders slumped at his words, and a deflated look impressed upon her face. "But ... " The word barely made it past her lips.

Drake reached for her hand and gripped it tightly. "Lyssa, we have so much going on right now. You're working on National Boards, Audrey has piano recitals and basketball, Patrick has peewee football and Boy Scouts. We barely have time -- except for right now -- for just ... us. I'm not saying,"never"... just that right now ... isn't a good time."

"I understand that, but ... we've always made it work. And don't you miss those tiny little fingers wrapped around yours? And the way they smell fresh out of the bath? And those chubby little cheeks pressed up against yours?" she goaded.

“Of course I do. I remember the first time I held Audrey and PJ in my arms -- there’s just no better feeling in the world than ...to look down ... " Drake paused as his voice cracked, and his brown eyes glistened like glass. " ... and to see someone so small ..." When she sniffled, it made it that much harder for him to speak. "... that you created with the woman you've loved since you were 16 years old. But I like who they are now, and watching them grow, and doing things with them ... And, well ... there’s no shit clean up.”

“You obviously haven’t washed Patrick's clothes in a while,” Alyssa retorted with a chuckle that brought out one in her husband.

"I’ll have to talk to him about that." He gazed deeper into her eyes. "But I do love you ... more than all the peaches in Georgia, Lyssa Claire.”

Alyssa smiled.“That’s what you said to me when you promised to marry me when we were teens.”

Drake returned his own smile. “I did. I remember like it was yesterday too. Sitting in your parent’s basement, watching Friends reruns, eating pizza, making out. And hell, it’s still as true today as it was then. Somehow, even more."

Their cold lips parted and joined halfway for a fervent kiss, with Drake's hand meandering around the subtle groove at the junction of her waist. Just as it became more intense and desirous, a rustling of twigs off in a nearby thicket caught Drake's ear, and he broke away, his eyes scoping the perimeter. Alyssa wasn't offended, she heard it too, and her heart raced with excitement.

Lifting the binoculars hanging from his neck, he spotted two deer eating from a blackberry patch some thirty yards away. He pointed in their direction; Alyssa gave a quick thumbs up, letting him know she saw them too.

Drake carefully lifted the rifle resting in his lap as Alyssa leaned forward and squinted to get a better visual. "Is that a buck and a doe?" she whispered, not moving an inch.

"Sure as fuck is." He mounted the stock of his .30 caliber, Winchester, just beneath his collarbone; the rush of this moment coursed ravenously through his body. He lined up the scope and placed a steady finger on the trigger -- his thumb pulling the hammer back.

“Wait.” Alyssa loudly whispered. “You can’t shoot him.”

"I'm gonna. Better cover your ears."

"No, Drake. There's a doe with him. What if that's his wife? You can't just leave her all alone without him."

"Lyss, this is the whole reason we're out here."

"So you can make a widow out of her?"

"No ... so I can make deer chili out of him."

Alyssa's mouth flew open. "No. No. RUUUUUUUUN! RUUUUUUN!"

Drake pulled his face away from the scope and fired her a look. "What the hell are you doing? They're getting away!"

She tilted her chin boldly. "I don't care. That was her husband, and they're in love, and you can't take that away from them. I would be so sad if we were just out eating berries and someone came up and shot you, ALL SO THEY COULD EAT DRAKE CHILI!".

Drake dropped his head. He knew there was no point in arguing with her. As long as he’d known her, she was stubborn, and at that moment, she was dead set in believing those two deer were living out the greatest romance of all time. Nothing he said or did would change her mind on that.

A thought emerged while he attempted to comprehend the logic of the situation. Those deer ran off in the direction where Liam was set up. Maybe if he could give his friend a heads up, it was still possible at least someone would leave those woods with the prized buck.

Turning his back from Alyssa so that she couldn't stop him, he pulled a small walkie-talkie from his pocket and radioed Liam. Alyssa knew what was up and jumped to her feet, thrusting her arms around him in an attempt to stop the travesty.

"You can't do this, Drake," she hollered, "That’s her soulmate. And why don't I have a walkie-talkie? I want a walkie-talkie!"

While seated next to Liam, Riley was swinging her legs, purposefully making the soles of her boots scrape against the platform. Liam tried to ignore her; maybe he had been a little too uptight about every little noise and utterance she made. But this was playing a whole different ballgame now: she was now making it her mission to piss him off.

Prepared to pound his head against the tree, Liam gritted his teeth, skimming his eyes in her direction. "Love, do you have to do that?"

"Did you have to throw my phone in the woods?" She spat back.

Liam rubbed his hand over his face. "No, and I am sorry that. I apologize for all of eternity. I promise I will get you another one as soon as we get back, okay?”

Riley huffed. "Fine, but that phone had all of my contacts on it. It had our babies' pictures and videos on it ... our vacation photos. I can't get those memories back ever, and I have to find it, and God only knows where it landed. It could be ..." She stopped rattling on when she caught sight of the distressed look Liam was giving her. Knitting her brows, Riley asked, "What?"

"Nothing ... just ... can you lower your voice a little? You're gonna scare the deer away,"

He regretted it as soon as it came out.

“LIAAAAM!”

He saw the steam gushing out of her ears. There was no time to answer the incoming call on his walkie-talkie from Drake.

Belting out a furious screech, Riley jumped up and tried to jerk the gun from his hands. There was no question she wouldn't shoot him, but she'd sure as hell shred his favorite gun apart piece-by-piece and toss them all the way to Portavira Lake on the other side of town.

Riley tugged with all of her might. "I have HAD IT with being quiet for those damn deer, Liam. HAD IT!"

"Sweetheart, you need to calm down ..." He stood up in front of her, pulling back on the rifle even harder, surprised -- and not pleasantly so -- his considerably smaller wife had this much struggle in her.

"Don't you sweetheart me. You have shushed me for the last time, Liam Preston Rys!"

“Okay, I’m sorry! But can you at least admit us fighting over a gun is dangerous? Somebody is going to get seriously hurt, and I don’t want it to be you, Riley. Please. I won’t shush you anymore, I promise.” His face softened, eventually adorning a loving smile at his wife, who, with a sigh, was unable to resist that handsome face and relaxed her grip.

Riley gave him a half-smile in return. “I’m sorry, too. I’ve ruined your hunting trip.”

“Yes ... you did.” Liam agreed, dodging the playful slap she nearly made to his upper arm. “But I don’t want to fight anymore.”

With the War of the Ryses finally over, they went in for a makeup kiss until Drake’s voice called out to Liam again through his walkie talkie. Liam set the gun down on the bench and leaned it against the tree before he started digging into his pocket to answer the device. Riley dropped down onto the seat, her elbow brushed against the rifle and caused it to slide away until the barrel end hit the railing and set off a powerful blast.

When the ringing in both of their ears subsided, and the smoke had cleared, Liam and Riley collected themselves from the sudden spine-gripping explosion that shook them both. While Riley explained to Liam what happened, a hysterical sounding Drake came back over the walkie-talkie, wailing, “Alyssa’s been shot! Alyssa’s been shot! Help me!”

__________________

Later that evening, in the courthouse square, the street was lit up with zig-zagged rows of red, green, and white lights. Strands of garland were wound around every lamppost in perfect spiraled loops, and red bows hung and waved with the wintry breeze.

With traffic rerouted away from the area, vendors lined sidewalks selling local goods to put the town's citizens in the festive spirit. What would this small town in Georgia have been without boiled peanuts, low country boil, fried green tomatoes, barbecue, and peach everything?

Once Constantine had lit the 30-foot spruce, surrounded by hundreds of merry people from all walks of life that made up this small community, the festival was officially kicked-off.

In a large tent set up on the square, Liam and Riley laid out styrofoam containers and drinks they’d purchased from a barbeque vendor on one of several picnic tables inside. With their two young daughters munching away on their meal, and the stroller with their sleeping son beside them, they both sat down with heavy hearts and restless minds.

Liam bit into his barbecue sandwich, noticing Riley only prodding at her mac-and-cheese while staring off into the distance. He didn’t have to ask what was wrong; he knew what happened that morning was bothering her with guilt and worry. It wasn’t every day she accidentally shot someone.

“Are you going to be okay?”

Riley shook her head slightly with a sad look. “No. It’s just not the same without Alyssa here. You know how much she loves Christmas and the festival. She was so looking forward to it too, until --”

“You shot her.”

“Yeeeeeesssss,” she cried out. Liam reached across the table and gave her hand a comforting squeeze, his thumb caressing her smooth skin. Riley continued to sniffle as she grabbed a handful of napkins and wiped the barbecue sauce off Liam’s sticky fingers that were now smeared all over hers. “I didn’t mean to, I swear it. And the way … and the way Drake cried. It broke my heart. Now he has her on bed rest AND house arrest. He won’t let her take calls. I’ll never see or hear from my bestie agaaaain.” The tears continued to flow in steady streams.

Liam stiffened, feeling the eyes of everyone in that tent, gawking at his overly-dramatic wife breaking down. He started to tell her to lower her voice, but after the gun battle in the woods, he thought better of it. “Riley, darlin’, you know Drake is really overprotective of Alyssa. And as scary as what happened was, she only needed the one stitch and band-aid for her graze wound. Something tells me Drake won’t be able to keep her down long.”

---------------------------

Liam was right. As much as Drake tried to keep her in bed so he could wait on her hand and foot, protect her from the careless friends of the world who could inadvertently do his baby girl harm, and check to see if she needed a new band-aid every few minutes, he could not keep her down. She had been far too excited to hang out with the people she loved so much and celebrate at one of her favorite festivals.

Maxwell had left for the events with Audrey and Patrick an hour ago; they were part of the children’s caroling group and needed to be there early. Against Drake’s wishes, Alyssa showered, got dressed, and made sure he knew in no uncertain terms would he be able to prevent her from going. The only thing he knew to do was to go, follow her around the entire night, and make sure she wouldn’t get shot again.

They circled the block where everything was held several times, but spaces to park were impossible to find. Three blocks away was the church where they attended, and the parking lot was completely empty. Drake didn’t like the fact that Alyssa would have to walk so far in her debilitated condition and was prepared to haul her piggyback style if he had to, but this was the best spot he could find.

Drake moved the gearshift into park and reached over to grab Alyssa’s arm, who was already bounding out the door. He pulled Alyssa back inside, the chilly air blowing through her open door swept her straighten hair this way and that way.

She cocked her head to the side and exhaled, “Drake, I can open my own door. I’m not broken. It’s just a scratch. I’m fine.”

“I know.” He smiled that tenderhearted smile only Alyssa had ever seen. The same one sending a shudder through her already chilled body. “I changed my mind,” he replied simply

Alyssa slammed her eyes shut and groaned. “I just told you I was fine --”

“No, no,” He shook his head. “About having another baby. I want to start trying.”

Saddled with curiosity, she slid back into the truck and shut the door. “But, I thought you said we didn’t have time for that --”

“Yeah, I did say that. I still believe it. But … today made me realize that yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today …”

Alyssa’s hand flew to her mouth as she laughed out loud. Drake gave her a confused look before chuckling awkwardly to himself, “What’s so funny?”

She lowered her hand, still laughing. “You got that saying from a quote on a poster in my classroom. You’re the one who hung it up for me.”

The memory dawned on him, and he lowered his head, attempting to cover the guilty grin that spread over it. “Well, hell. Here I was trying to make you think I was all insightful and smart and stuff.”

Alyssa’s hand splayed across his rugged chest as she leaned over to kiss him.“You are very insightful and smart. You know I never settle for anything less than the best.”

“I s’pose.” he said, forking his fingers through his hair. “But … I guess what I wanted to say was … I know that bullet missed you, barely … but what if it hadn’t? What if I’d left those woods without you today? Just like you were afraid that doe might. Time wouldn’t matter anymore. There will NEVER be enough time with you. You’re my life, Alyssa Claire. You’re my lover, my friend, my heart, my confidante, my soul, my everything … my little peach. I want to experience all that life has given me with you as my wife … and forever make time with you.”

“DRAAAKEY!” she bawled, spreading her tiny arms wide around his bulky body. Alyssa drew him into her so hard it nearly crushed the wind right out of his lungs. “I -- love -- you -- so muuuch!” Drake patted her back and kissed into her hair as she sniveled into his shirt. He hated when she cried, but damn if this didn’t feel good to him. Anytime she was happy made him that way too.

They took a moment to kiss and pet each other a little before Alyssa sat up and asked, “So … when do you want to start trying for a new baby Walker?”

He shrugged. “Whenever you want, baby.”

Alyssa looked through the back window of the truck and scanned the parking lot. She bit her lip and looked back at him impishly. “What about … now?”

Drake’s eyes flew open wide. “In the church parking lot?”

Pursing her lips, she affirmed, “Yes. We’ve done it behind the Piggly Wiggly plenty of times. And let's not forget the ‘Great Ass Blow-out of 2019’ in the Atlanta Convention Center parking garage.”

“I will never forget that.” Drake shook his head as that momentous sexual experience replayed in his mind. “Mmmm, you performed magic that day, woman.”

She raised a brow and coaxed him on, “So? What’dya say?”

Drake took a tentative look around at the dark, empty lot, then back at her. “We’re so going to hell, but I’m in.”

“Eeeeeee,” she squealed, jerking his arm around in excitement. “Try to keep your ass out of the window this time, okay?”

Thirty minutes later, Pastor Hakim pulled into the church parking lot with Mara, the game warden, following behind in her truck. There had been several reports from passerby’s of loud animals howling and screeching behind the church. The stray cat population was out of control in that area, and several cats had burrowed their way inside the church on occasion.

Hakim parked his car, with Mara pulling in beside him. They both got out simultaneously and listened quietly to see if they could decipher where the commotion was coming from.

Within seconds, a load moan roared out, followed by several consecutive whimpers that were hard to make out by the duo.

Mara listened intently, then gestured with her flashlight to an area near the back of the lot where clusters of shrubs and dry brush bordered. Hakim ambled behind her, the noise getting closer and closer until the pastor's brow furrowed at the shaking of a nearby truck.

“Damn, teenagers,” he grumbled as they tipped toed discreetly.

Mara crouched down by the truck's tailgate, Hakim bending over while she duck-walked toward the driver's side door.

The game warden turned to the pastor and instructed, “On my three. 1 -- 2 -- 3.” They both jumped up at the same time, flashing the light inside the cab. “HAHA Caught ya! OH MY GOD!”

Alyssa, who was on top of Drake, completely naked except for the band-aid on her left arm, looked up in utter humiliation and shock. She crossed her arms over her chest to cover her breast, feeling like she might faint. Not knowing what to say at that moment to rectify their actions or why those two were still staring inside the truck, Alyssa smiled sheepishly. “I’m still feeling the spirit, Hakim.”

---------------------------------

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#drake x alyssa #Liam x Riley #gun usage #hunting

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misskittysmagicportal · 3 years

Note

can i request something to do with the thing about vincent having tics while giving oral or just vincent giving oral general i love the way you write things

I Think We're Alone Now

(Vincent Rhodes x Fem!Reader)

Warnings: language, talk of mental health, fem!receiving oral

A/N: With the pandemic keeping you and Vincent apart, he was glad that being alone didn't mean being lonely.

Vincent Rhodes didn't tic as bad or as much in his thirties. He wasn't cured. He didn't take medicine that made them magically go away. He took meds for his anxiety, and the “cure” was still going to therapy with Dr Rose. He didn't go daily or weekly or even monthly anymore. He managed every other month. Sometimes, perhaps, every three to four months. Yet it took twenty-five to finally accept a cliche: Tourette's wasn't Vincent, Vincent simply HAD Tourette's.

Don't worry though, cunt is still his favorite word.

Vincent also did all the things he told Marie he wanted to do. He finished school and went to college online. He found himself rather good at computers and a job that required the bare minimum of human interaction. His Tourette's was under control, but his social anxiety never seemed to be. We digress!

He had a job, and a place to call home that wasn't a treatment facility or a hoarder’s house bogged down by sadness and alcoholism. Vincent didn't find it shameful that his father bought him a condo. He and his roommate had an agreement to pay utilities and work on the re-election campaign.

Vincent finally had a dog. A dog he had to fight for because his roommate had.. Rituals. Rituals that also weren't as bad as they used to be thanks to the same therapy and right medication. Just like you can't get rid of Tourette's, Vincent couldn't get rid of Alex either. That was his first, and really only, friend. As tumultuous as they started out, if you survive a road trip with two neurodivergents, you're pretty much bonded for life. Alex was sometimes more work than their dog.

Vincent and Alex did things in their late twenties and early thirties they never thought they'd do. They went out. They dated around. They had awkward sex and one night stands that the two of them could finally laugh about. Vincent could hide, or save his tics from popping up during his dates. He could even manage to hold them off when he had sex. He was relaxed and focused on the woman beneath or above him.

But then he would spasm, or twist and pop his mouth. He would unintentionally squeal or swear, call her names or flip her off. Instead of understanding Vincent, or talking to him, whoever the girl of the moment was would leave and never come back. Fuck her, Vincent would think. I can't help that I have Tourette’s; she can help being an asshole.

-----

There could not have been a worse time in anyone’s life for you to meet quite possibly the single hottest guy in your neighborhood. At least, you thought he was in your neighborhood. You kept running into each other at various stores to the point you found yourself quoting an old movie from college.

“Are you stalking me?” You boldly questioned him one afternoon as he pondered Mcintosh versus Fiji apples. “Because that would be super.”

The man jumped. Then to your shock, he spasmed almost violently. His neck twisted to the left as his hand held on to his chin and yelled out, “Brown haired cunt! Grass licking big tits.”

You laughed. It wasn't malicious or in jest. You were nervous and stunned. Still you replied, “Normally a guy has to date me for a while before he calls me a cunt. Now as for grass licking? That was only once, but I was high and we were playing truth or dare.”

He stared at you, mouth agape. A violent spasm rocked his body again like an aftershock. It caused him to excessively blow a dark curl back from his forehead several times before his body relaxed and he appeared to sink in on himself. Embarrassed. A pink hue spread along his cheeks and angled jaw as he gazed at the apples again with large green eyes.

“You ok? I wouldn't say I've got big tits. They're more like medium sized. Unless you were talking about the melons.” You held up two cantaloupe in front of your chest. “I’m y/n”

Again with the mouth open staring. Then he came to, “Vincent. I've never had someone react to Arthur that way.”

“I'm from New York. That was a Saturday night in the village. Who’s Arthur?” You looked around. “Are you being held hostage? Scream cunt for yes. Vagina for no.”

Vincent laughed. It was almost a giggle that you weren't sure was a laugh or his thing. “Arthur is my Tourette's. He's the clown who shits in between my thoughts. My tics. You scared the piss out of him.”

“You named your Tourette's? You can't do that, they never go away once you name them.”

Vincent rolled his eyes, “ DAMMIT! I'll take away his bowl of food and dog bed too. Maybe I'll finally be cured!”

You didn't want him to think you felt something was wrong with him. “Mostly with all of this, I meant I keep seeing you around. Thought I'd say hi.”

“How about we exchange phone numbers, and you can say hello more often?” Vincent cocked an eyebrow.

“Bold of you to assume calling me a cunt is flirting! But you got it out of the way now instead of down the line. Give me your phone.”

He obliged and you put your number in. As you handed it back you joked, “Should've told me you had a much sexier friend.” You indicated Alex on the phone’s wallpaper.

“He's gay.”

“Damn! Lucky for men. Anyways, I work most days. Don't know how long with everything happening out there. Call me sometime?”

Vincent twitched and wolf whistled. He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, but promised he would nonetheless. But then pandemic happened, so all you had for the next six months was your phone

-----

You met Alex and learned his rituals and empathized with his panic to follow or abide by heath guidance. His OCD aggravated by everything going on. Vincent couldn't even go for a run without his friend completely freaking out, so he just didn't. Their balcony was it for fresh air.

You took tours of each other's apartments. Had dinners and breakfasts together. Shared what books you were reading and watched movies together. Vincent teased you about your fat, lazy cat and you did likewise over his ten pound shih tzu. Although, you admitted, it was because she got to share a bed with him.

Somehow in month 5 you were roped into a three way phone call with his dad. Senator Rhodes and Vincent seemed to have an easy relationship, but you were filled in later that it was anything but for a very long time. So you turned the tables one night, and introduced him to your entire family.

Forgetting about his Tourette's, because you had really grown used to it all. To the tics, the whistles and excessive use of the word cunt (Pandemic drinking game, Vincent’s idea) that his biggest episode since you met stunned not only you but your clan. Vincent had buried his face, you were terrified of your mistake. But you got it from somewhere.

“Sure you ain't from Brooklyn, kid?!” Thank Christ for meathead brothers.

“This is dating right?” Vincent asked after their dinner. “Pandemic, COVID, for now dating. Even though,” he paused to twist his neck, “One of my coworkers has uh, dick appointments all the time?” He snapped a finger several times and shouted something about a whore and syphilis.

“Hey! Tell Arthur to fuck off. Sexual liberation. She's not a whore, she's in her twenties!” Vincent laughed. “Are you nervous about something? Usually the bedtime part of our phone calls are the least tic-ish.”

“Wanna have sex?” He was straightforward.

“Right now? Facetime sex?” You scrunch your nose but more to be cute than creeped out.

“Here. Alex is asleep. Come over? We've been isolated for months.”

“God, I love you.”

“What?” Vincent laughed. “Are you sure about that?”

“I'll be there in twenty minutes.”

-----

Vincent opened the door and implored you to take your shoes off at the door. You expected nothing less as you complied and followed him in the stillness of the apartment to his bedroom.

The moment the door was shut, Vincent was on you before you could even adjust to the dark. Only street lamps from the neighborhood below showed through as his mouth consumed yours.

Your tongues at war with each other as the two of you scrambled to undress. Your lips broke apart long enough to throw shirts over heads and step out of flannel pants or yoga pants. Then they crashed together again as Vincent let his hands splay out the length of your back and shoulders.

Your one hand ensnared by his messy hair. The other under the waistband of his boxers and over his ass. You drew his body to yours to melt into. His erection strained and throbbed against your hip as you hungrily pushed your tongue as far inside him as you could.

The both of you eager like teenagers shot with adrenaline. Anxious and hoping Alex caught you as Vincent twitched and his shoulders shrugged up to his ears. His fingers fumbled with your bra made worse by his tics. Tics that frustrated only him; you reached and undid it for him. Your breasts were free for him to look at.

Vincent attempted to choke back his words but failed. “Tit fucker,” a sour look on his face as his eye involuntarily clamped shut, “huge nipples.” He swallowed his lips, mortified.

“Hey!! They make up for yours being the tiniest nipples I have EVER seen on a dude.” You took Vincent’s hand. “We can slow down if you want. I don't know what's up, do you tic like this every time you have sex?”

The two of you laid side by side on his bed, hands traced over inches of bare skin. Vincent was silent for a while as he let his fingers trail over you, his lips not far behind.

“I don't. I'm usually too focused. The last time I loved someone, it fell apart immediately. It's making me anxious.”

You held his head to your body with a tenderness. “I loved you first, didn't I?”

His mouth made its way amongst your breasts as he gently laid you on your back. His lips warm on your stomach and hips that he exposed by tugging your panties down over your knees and off. Vincent laid down between them and almost nuzzled his nose in your soft pubic hair before his tongue dove inside of you.

Your hips rocketed up into his mouth as you grabbed the back of Vincent's head. He licked and sucked on your sex. Small tics caused him to push his tongue and lips in further than before. They closed in on your clit. His tongue attacked it with a lapping motion that you could only bend to, helpless.

Vincent was insatiable, his mouth in a frenzy. Your fingers caught up in the sheets as the sensation of his mouth on your clit spread along your body. Now your words were a shock as they came screaming out into the quiet of the bedroom.

“Tongue fuck me! Faster!”

Instead Vincent looked up at you with a grin, “I see Arthur came to visit.”

Tag: @robertsheehanownsmyass @slutforrobbiebro @super-unpredictable98 @magic-multicolored-miracle @sean-falco @elliethesuperfruitlover @bisexualnathanyoung @bwritesstuff @firstpersonnarrator @rob-private

#robert sheehan #vincent rhodes #vincent rhodes x reader #vincent x reader smut

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malikmata · 3 years

Text

Notes from a Brown Boy - Kansas Diaries

*Author’s Note: Some people’s names have been changed to protect their identities

The rain was the first thing to greet me when I landed in Wichita. Overhead the gray clouds loomed, shadowing the farmland that yawned in the distance. Distance. At first glance, the city seemed like one long stretch of prairies and cracked parking lots, occasionally punctuated by billboards of grinning injury lawyers and lit up restaurant road signs.

If you spend enough time here amid the crumbling old buildings, watching the weeds sway in the vacant lots, you’ll feel the slow, inevitable creep of dread or something like it.

It’s easy to feel lonely here.

But, if you’re receptive enough, you’ll run into many friendly folks. Sometimes too friendly.

For example: During my first week, I went to Freddy’s, a local fast food chain, and ordered a crispy chicken sandwich with fries. The cashier, a young woman with glasses and short blonde hair, suddenly started confessing her fear that her 8-year old chihuahua wouldn’t live a long life.

“I still think of him as a teenager,” she said.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “He’s a chihuahua. They live long lives.”

Out here, in the most middle-of-the-road cities, you sometimes get a chance to show an act of passing kindness. While waiting in line at one of the hip, new cafes downtown, a place called Milkfloat, a tall elderly gentleman recommended which coffee and pastry to get.

“My wife says this place has the best cold brew in town.” Afterwards, grabbing his pastry and coffee, he wished me a good day. Most folks here always do and you better hope it comes true. Because here, like elsewhere, a day is filled with ordinary heartbreaks.

I will simply call her “Tita.” She works as a tailor at a department store, the only tailor working there, hemming and tapering racks full of suit pants under fluorescent lights. The nature of the job requires exact measurements and a keen eye for detail. She works hard, often skips lunch, and comes home dead tired. Her husband is recovering from 4 broken ribs after a car repair job went awry. Nothing can be done but wait until he gets better.

They live in a languid suburb on Wichita’s east side, a street with few sidewalks but plenty of lawn.

And noise. Plenty of noise. The neighborhood sits next to a car dealership. The skies overhead rumble continuously with airplanes and thunderstorms. Dogs bark at anyone who gets too close. A pickup truck blasts a corny country song as the cicadas and frogs belt out their lonely mating calls. Occasionally, a child’s laughter rises above it all.

Gossip is one of the great pastimes in towns like these. Even if you shut yourself up in your home, stories trickle in.

The neighbor across the street shot himself in the head.

The elderly couple that used to live next door got committed to a nursing home.

A fellow around the corner is on his third attempt to grow weed.

A college student starves himself morning to night so that he can save money for college.

Down the street, a kid lifts weights and punches the heavy bag hanging on his front porch.

Here, dumb luck seems, more so than in the big cities, the providence of God.

A man told me he got a job installing new carpets at a friend’s house. He was in desperate need of money, having sent most of it to his mother back home, who proceeded to gamble it away. When he ripped out the old carpet, he found a bundle of $10,000 dollars just lying there. His co-worker said, “We should split it.”

“No, no, we can’t take it.” the man said. He gave the money to his friend.

Sometime later, he went to the casino and couldn’t stop winning jackpot after jackpot. He brought home close to $16,000 in one night.

“So, if you do something good,” he told me, “God will remember that.”

Many people have come to live and die here, all of them wrapped up in the melancholic churning of faded ambitions and familial obligations.

Some people here have found something that returns them to the placidity they once felt in their youth. Sometimes that’s enough to keep them going.

For example:

I met Phil Uhlik, the namesake of the music store on E Douglas. He heard me playing an old Martin acoustic in one of the rooms. He shuffled in slightly hunched over, wearing a blue paisley shirt and brown shorts. He looked at the sunburst guitar in my hands and said, “It’s got a little beauty mark there.” He pointed to a small nick just above the sound hole. “All girls have beauty marks.” He pointed to his cheeks and smiled.

Uhlik started this music store 51 years ago and enjoys every moment of it.

“When you go to work for Boeing, that’s work,” he said. “But this, it doesn’t feel like work.” He motioned to the instruments all around him.

“How’d you get started?” I asked.

“I started off playing one of these,” he said, taking one of the accordions off a nearby shelf. As he strapped it on, all the years seemed to disappear. With a big crooked-teeth grin, he breathed life into the old accordion, his hands dancing up and down the keys. The smile never left his face as we bid farewell to each other.

I wish everyone in this world were as lucky as Phil.

I’m always seeking indie bookstores when I travel. Eighth Day Books provides much needed shelter from the summer heat. The shop was built 33 years ago and used to be located about half a mile east, in Clifton Square Village. About 17 years ago they moved to their current location, a 1920 Dutch-style colonial house on the corner of E Douglas and N Erie. Its blue trimmed windows peek through the foliage of neighboring trees.

When you walk in, you’ll see shelves of books on Christianity and Theological studies, most notably in the Eastern Orthodox tradition. I’ve never seen a bookshop with a section dedicated to Iconography.

Wichita, despite its size, feels like a small place. And with that cramped spaciousness, you’re likely to run into someone you may remember or who may remember you. Here I ran into my girlfriend’s 8th grade English teacher. A bald, bespectacled man with a gentle demeanor. After a bit of catching up, he said to us with a smile, “I hope all your dreams come true.”

The short story writer, Raymond Carver, once wrote: “Dreams… are what you wake up from.”

Wichita is a land that hypnotizes you; it makes you dream, dream of something beyond the miles of strip malls and airplane factories, beyond the shocks of wheat and windswept plains, beyond the doldrums and ennui. But it also shakes you awake, reminds you that you’re in it, that you better stop dreaming.

I’m not the religious sort anymore, having survived the regime laid down by my Catholic parents. But there is something enthralling, maybe even inspirational, when I look at the rows of beautifully painted portraits of saints and martyrs. Such solemn faces surrounded by golden halos. According to the Eastern Orthodox tradition, such paintings transcend art; they’re supposed to be windows through which you can glimpse the divine. They remind me of my grandparents with their judging eyes and moral seriousness.

My book haul for the day:

Snow Country by Yasunari Kawabata

The Diary of Anne Frank

Earthly Signs: Moscow Diaries by Marina Tsvetaeva

Near to the Wild Heart by Clarice Lispector

In that last book, I found this lovely little passage:

…”in the Revolution, as always, the weight of everyday life falls on women: previously--in sheaves, now in sacks. Everyday life is a sack with holes. And you carry it anyway.”

From Earthly Signs, P. 40

According to the 2019 United States census bureau, 15.9% of Wichita's population lives below the poverty line. That’s higher than the state average, which hovers around 11.4%. That’s not the lowest nor is it the highest in the country. As befitting its location, Kansas is right in the middle.

The minimum wage in Kansas is still $7.25 despite efforts to increase it to $15. When Covid-19 hit, city and service workers bore the brunt of the impact. You can keep all your empty slogans like “We Love Our Frontline Workers.” Congratulate me all you want for my hard work but where’s my pay?

When you see that business here has returned to normal--people freely walking around without masks, no longer socially distancing--it still feels all too strange; we spent an entire year under lockdown. There’s still a pandemic by the way.

Loved ones fell ill, died alone, hooked up to ventilators in closed off hospital rooms. I believe every interaction now carries the weight of all those deaths. My family, like so many others, didn’t escape unscathed from the pandemic. My grandpa, Amang, caught Covid. Since he was an elderly citizen (and suffering from emphysema to boot), he was among those considered most at risk. We all feared the worst. Somehow he survived. The doctors called him a “trailblazer.”

Now, with businesses back to 100% capacity, I’m afraid that, just like the 1918 Flu epidemic, the past will fade like a nightmare upon waking. But it was so much more than that; it was an avoidable tragedy.

If you want to know what this pandemic has done to people and their livelihoods, is still doing to them, take a ride through downtown.

Things were already going bad before Covid hit. Back in 2004, the writer Thomas Frank wrote,

“There were so many closed shops in Wichita… that you could drive for blocks without ever leaving their empty parking lots, running parallel to the city streets past the shut-down sporting goods stores and toy stores and farm implement stores.”

What’s the Matter with Kansas: How Conservatives Won the Heart of America, P. 75

What led to all this blight? Frank attributes the decline to:

“the conservatives’ beloved free market capitalism, a system that, at its most unrestrained, has little use for smalltown merchants or the agricultural system that supported the small towns in the first place.”

-P. 79

The same story happens in a lot of places. A megacorporation keeps eating everything around it and leaves nothing else at the table.

The people are left hurting, a pit in their stomachs, and some asshole somewhere profits off of it.

While at the DMV, I overheard this:

“You have a good day now,” the security guard said.

“I’ll try my best,” a woman said.

My girlfriend heard them too and laughed.

“You really do have to try your best in order to have a good day here.”

At some point, we hit the town with a couple friends: Monica, and her boyfriend Will. Both are musicians trying to carve out their niche in a place that, on the surface, seems apathetic to creative pursuits.

It’s impossible to not be captured by their energy. As soon as we walk into their house, Monica, with her dark blonde hair draped over her shoulders, reached in for a hug. Will, a tall and bearded fellow with a bear-like presence, also went in for the hug.

“Ready to experience some Wichita nightlife?” Monica asked.

What is the nightlife here like? A group of high school punks wanted to fight us over a couple movie theater seats. Bored kids play rounds of “Chinese Fire Drill” at stop lights. I heard a nazi biker gang rolled into town at some point during my stay. Regular things like that.

At a low-key bar downtown called Luckys, I met a guy named Cory. He told me how he met a 15 year old kid loitering here, looking lost and forlorn.

“I don’t know what kind of advice I can give you but I’ll do the best I can,” Cory said.

This is the spirit I’ve often come across during my stay: A sort of slightly intrusive compassion. For a cynical Californian like me, the behavior seems a little strange, maybe even a little annoying. But I’ve come to appreciate the candor of it.

“Guaranteed we’ll know half the people here,” Will said.

Right away, he shook hands with the bartender—a high school friend of his—and asked him how his band was doing. Afterwards, we sat down and talked. Talking, after a year of pandemic lockdown, has become a lost art to me. But a little alcohol loosened the lips and suddenly I talked as though I’d known these people my whole life.

Will sipped his whisky on the rocks and told me:

“If everything in this world is meant to break down eventually, then any act of creation becomes an act of defiance.”

It may sound naive but to me, it’s true. I think about the words of the writer, John Berger:

Compassion defies the laws of necessity. To forget yourself and identify with a stranger has a power that defies the supposed natural order of things.

--The Shape of a Pocket, P. 179

Making art has to be, in some way, a compassion act, because it involves letting the environment and the people you meet speak for themselves, allowing a collaboration.

“When a painting is lifeless it is the result of the painter not having the nerve to get close enough for a collaboration to start… Every authentic painting demonstrates a collaboration.”

--The Shape of a Pocket, P. 16

You need to open yourself up, feel what someone is saying behind their words, and hopefully, feel what they feel.

Art, like Compassion, is defiant.

Among the 4 or so Asian markets here, you can find all the ingredients you need to cook up something good. During my first week, I stopped at a place called Grace Market. Like a lot of small Asian markets, it’s family run. A father from Taiwan. A mother from Korea. The son usually helps out when he can. Today (June 23), On this warm Wednesday morning, the son is manning the cash register.

“You’re from California? I’m from there too,” he said.

“Where at?” I asked.

“Sacramento. How about you? So Cal?”

“Nah, Bay Area.”

“Funny. That’s where my parents met.”

“Small world.”

On a different day, we met the father, a jovial man who never fails to say hi when you walk in. He came here over a couple decades ago from California, doing work for the US Army in Garden City. Once his service was over, he decided to stay in Kansas.

“I think you know why,” he said.

More and more young folks these days are leaving California. The high cost of living is presumably what’s driving this exodus. I told him I was also thinking of leaving the Golden State, as much as I love the place.

“Well, a town like this has a lot of potential if you want to save money,” he said. “If I tried to start this business in California, I don’t think I could’ve done it.”

The summer heat can, with the suddenness of a lightning flash, give way to thunderous storms. Speaking as someone from California, whose home has gone through excruciating periods of drought and wildfire, these nightly downpours are a startling yet relaxing sight.

The distant boom of thunder in the distance reminds you of how much of our lives depend on the weather, how small we are in comparison, how we are never separate from the goings-on of nature. The rain doesn’t come down lightly here. At night, it smacks and drums against the window pane with all the force of an animal trying to get inside.

But I don’t find myself frightened by it so much as awed by the combined power of wind and rain colliding against our rickety old house.

Kansas lies in the Great Plains, where layers of cool and warm air often combine into a low-level jet stream. Unimpeded by any natural obstacles on the wide flat plains, the wind roars across the expanse. Thunder growls over the prairie. And lightning flashes on the horizon in a fearsome red tinge.

The storm rages throughout the night, the only source of light in an ocean-sized plain.

“In general, the gods of the Wichita are spoken of as "dreams," and they are divided into four groups: Dreams-that-are-Above (Itskasanakatadiwaha), or, as the Skidi would say, the heavenly gods; and (2) Dreams-down-Here (Howwitsnetskasade), which, according to the Skidi terminology, are the earthly gods. The latter "dreams" in turn are divided into two groups: Dreams-living-in-Water (Itska-sanidwaha), and the Dreams-closest-to-Man (Tedetskasade)”

From The Mythology of the Wichita, P. 33

If you go downtown, you’ll see a sculpture called “The Keeper of the Plains.”

It’s almost 9 o’ clock when I get there, so large crowds have gathered to watch the ring of fire lit around its perimeter.

The statue was designed by indigenous artist and craftsman, Blackbear Bosin. Born in Cyril, Oklahoma, but living much of his adult life in Wichita, Kansas, Bosin was of Comanche and Kiowa descent and almost entirely self-taught as an artist.

When you come upon the Keeper of the Plains, standing tall on the fork of the Arkansas and Little Arkansas Rivers, you can’t help but feel a mix of admiration and sadness. It’s a striking statue, especially when set against the beautiful orange and lavender hues of the setting sun. But monuments like these end up reminding you of the Wichita peoples who were killed, displaced, driven from their land, and left to die in reservations, forgotten. The tribes that once lived here along the southern plains still show traces of their culture but now, you’ll see it mostly as a memory in a museum or as art hanging on the walls of a library.

I learned from a video by the Wichita Eagle that the last speaker of the Wichita language, Doris Jean Lamar, died back in 2016. It must be indescribably lonely to be the last speaker of a language. There is no one to have a conversation with, no one to whom you can confess your hopes or your regrets. But in the video, Lamar, even knowing that she is the last speaker, expresses hope that future generations will know what the language sounded like.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ScPkN_xGRI

Is forgiveness even possible when injustices are still committed today against native peoples everywhere?

Not enough can be said about the skies here, which seem at times so brilliantly marbled with peach and lavender colors that you begin to walk with your head perpetually craned upwards.

It’s this aspect, the overwhelming sense of the sublime, that will probably stay with me long after I’ve left Kansas.

I think again about the nature of dreams. It isn’t such a sin to dream about things, about things that haven’t happened yet, and about things that have happened. To quit dreaming seems too cynical, like admitting from the outset that everything is screwed, that you should stop trying.

During my stay here, I’ve met many people who aren’t so irony poisoned yet, people who are achingly sincere and kind. They haven’t stopped trying. There isn’t much room for cynicism here. I appreciate that a lot.

Farewell to you, Kansas, you and your clumps of cumulus and vast fields of cows and grass. I’ll see you again.

Check out Will’s music! It’s gloomy, melancholy, and LOUD!: https://teamtremolo.bandcamp.com/album/intruder

#diary #photoblog #photo diary #midwest #kansas #travel diaries

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captain-danwilds · 3 years

Text

I’ve been waiting for so long (to feel like I’m home)

A RBB 2021 Fic AO3 Accompanying Art by @mareofthesky

Summary: Palmetto Public Hospital was just supposed to be another meaningless stop in Neil Josten's life. He doesn't have a reason to keep running to a new hospital every few months, but that doesn't mean he's learned how to stay. And there's something about the rest of the staff on the burn ward that makes him want to try, especially the physical therapist.

This fic was written for the 2021 AFTG Reverse Big Bang. Thank you @gluupor for organizing! I had the joy of being paired with @mareofthesky. She’s absolutely incredible, both as an artist and as a human being. I seriously couldn’t ask for someone better.

This work takes place in a hospital in pre-COVID times. I am not a nurse, doctor or physical therapist, let alone a burn survivor. I do not know everything they go through. I’ve tried to be as accurate as possible, but recognize that I’m going to be wrong about some things. There’s only so far research can take you.

While I don’t think this work is more graphic than canon, it does deal with some distressing stuff, namely: burns, blood, hospitals, child abuse, violence, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, torture, mutilation of corpses (referenced) and Baltimore references.

Nathaniel Wesninski was thirteen when his mother almost died.

In another universe, this would have been the thing that killed her. She would have gotten her hands-on fake passports and they would have traveled across Europe until he was fourteen and Stefan got shot in Germany. But they would have still ended up in Seattle, her blood spilling on the leather seat as her son drove down the coastline.

In this world, their plans to head to Europe fell through quickly. There hadn't been a couple million dollars to pave the way, just two desperate souls fleeing in the night because Nathaniel couldn't live up to the standards his father set for him.

Nathan Wesninski was the head of his own empire, eager for his son to take over. There was no Yakuza demanding a show of loyalty. If Nathaniel had shown promise, he would have been able to take over the family operation.

The problem was, in both worlds, Nathaniel hadn't shown promise. It took years for him to learn how to watch his father butcher a man without crying. He could never master Lola's style of knife play, refusing to draw out the pain any more than strictly necessary. As he got older, his eyes would go stony, his hands moving automatically. But he was moving through water. He barricaded himself into his own head so that he didn't register the stickiness of the blood on his hands until he'd left the basement. The sound of screams became so ubiquitous, he could tune it out. There was no joy, certainly no drive to continue the Butcher's legacy.

He had merely nodded when his father had announced he expected Nathaniel to take care of the traitor in his ranks. He kept his feet trained on the floor, on the puddles of blood slowly inching toward the central drain.

But Mary saw the gleam on her husband's face, the unspoken or else. She also happened to know the traitor in question. One of the servants who liked to sneak Nathaniel snacks while he worked on his homework. There was no way that Nathaniel could force himself to do it. He'd be left with new scars if he was lucky. Knowing her husband and his current frustration over territory losses, Nathaniel wasn’t going to be lucky.

So she'd grabbed what she could, contacted the few contacts she had with her family that could do good work for cheap and escaped into the night.

When they met Nathan and his ilk in Seattle, they had only been on the run for three years. Linda and Alex, their 8th set of names, had settled into the type of neighborhood where no one noticed another kid with desperation in their eyes, where no one had the energy to poke into anyone else's business during the break between second and third jobs. Alex was fine, good at following orders, a natural at stitches. He could blend in just fine, answer questions the right way, but he certainly wasn't ready to start out on his own.

For every time they successfully changed identities, he complained about not joining the track team or jostled against the restrictions of coming home directly after school without hanging on the monkey bars or meeting friends. For all their time on the run, for all the times she'd tried to beat it out of him, Alex was still a child.

And even if he had been ready to stake out on his own. A child, especially one as small as Alex, would always draw attention when traveling alone.

Despite that, he had been able to drive the beaten down car, the phone book stacked beneath him giving him just enough extra height to see the road. His maneuvering was perfect as he weaved through traffic. They hadn't spent weeks training as Caroline and Sam in backroads lined with corn in Iowa for him to fail when escape was their only option.

Mary applied pressure to the bullet wound with one hand and frantically called the local FBI office with her other. Her family might have been able to help her, but she wouldn't live to see them arrive from England. In dire circumstances one had to make do.

And Mary had years’ worth of insider information of her husband's dealing she could easily trade for her treatment at a hospital and her son's continued safety.

So Nathaniel was 13 when his mother almost died, and he entered the witness protection program. He was thirteen when he became Neil Josten.

"Isn't it too similar to his real name?" Mary huffed, giving the trio sent to her hospital room a jaunty smile.

The mousy-haired social worker pushed up her glasses as she gave them a placating smile. "We find young children tend to adapt better when allowed some connection to their genuine selves."

Mary had rolled her eyes, but Neil had merely frowned. He had no idea what she meant by genuine self. Was he supposed to be like creative like Sam? Or logical like Owen? His life had been a mass of contradictions. The only thing he knew for certain was he didn't want to be brutal like Nathaniel.

The only thing he'd consistently been his entire life was scared.

He was fifteen by the time arrests were started to be made in Baltimore.

"You needed two years for that?" Mary spat as she talked to their handler over the phone from their Millport townhouse. "Fucking Moorhouse and Redler?

Neil dutifully filled out his homework as he sat sprawled out in the living room with the patio door open so he could smell his mother's cigarettes as she badgered tonight's lucky caller.

"I would have thought that you'd have something more to show for yourselves. Truly the incompetence is astounding."

Neil smirked as Mary's natural brogue colored her words. She could speak half a dozen languages with the precision of a local but rile her up enough and anyone would be able to tell she’d spent her childhood running wild in Manchester.

Neil pressed his pencil hard into the paper as he underlined yet another one of the rules for pickleball. Sure he couldn't even run around the neighborhood anytime soon, let alone play a game he's actually interested in, but the epitome of his online gym education truly was learning rules and regulations for sports he wasn't even sure were real.

"I'm allowed to lie on this one right?" He sarcastically asked his caseworker as he laid out the exercise tracker worksheet. "Like I'm not about to put myself in federal custody for claiming I have access to an Exy court? Since you guys said I had to be totally honest and everything"

She had rolled his eyes at him, but she didn't ask about Mary's late night phone calls to Uncle Stuart, so Neil took it for the win it was.

In another world, he was nineteen when his father’s people found them. Instead, he was fifteen. Fifteen with a limited skill-set since there are things that can be taught on the run that can’t be taught in a small flat under government surveillance.

The only bright side was that in this world, there was no car. He was not crammed in a trunk with Lola tool close, practically grinding on top of him as she reminded him how much he looked like his father. It’s a small victory.

Instead there’s screaming and knives and he had to watch. He had to watch with his heart in his throat as Romero showed no mercy. Watch as his mother died, watch until he can’t recognize her corpse anymore.

They took enjoyment in this. Lola’s practically laughed as he slammed into the wall, as she dragged her knife down his chest.

Neil spit in Lola’s face as she poured the gasoline. With his squirming, it only managed to douse half his body, but it was enough to finally wrench the screams from his throat as the flames bit into his flesh.

He was scared. He fought back anyway.

But that really wouldn’t have changed in either world.

The bullets that finally came, that finally bring everything to an end, did not come from his Uncle in revenge.

Instead they are fired by federal officers aiming to main so as not to lose the opportunity to interrogate the criminals that might have enough knowledge to bring all of East Coast’s organized crime to its knees.

The weeks that followed weren’t kind to him. Neil saw the pictures later and he didn’t even recognize his own face.

But for once, the people were kind. Kind enough to give him hope even as the rest of the world collapsed around him.

Somewhere else a scared boy finds his family and himself at nineteen on an Exy court. In this world, Neil Josten is twenty-six and finds them in a hospital. This is that story.

"It really was lucky that we found you with such short notice."

In general, Neil Josten didn't believe in luck. He certainly wouldn't call it luck when Palmetto Public Hospital had posted exactly the type of job he looked for on all the travel nurse job boards. Just desperate sounding enough to cause people to not ask too many questions, while professional enough to not make a big deal of his scars.

Neil took Chief Nurse Danielle Wilds' hand with a carefully constructed smile on his face. "I'm glad I'm able to help. Although I was under the impression, I'd be your replacement."

Wilds let out as a laugh as she seemed to instinctively cradle her baby bump. "My husband, Matt, you'll be working with him too, thinks I'm being ridiculous, wanting to show you around myself, but I'd truly hate for you to get the wrong impression of us."

Neil just barely kept himself from rolling his eyes. Every hospital thought they were so special. Like a family or some shit. Every hospital was wrong.

Procedure might differ slightly, and some places had more people worth avoiding. But in the end, all that mattered was that the nurses showed up, did their job and offered some kindness. Even if he’s no Abby, even if his version of kindness wasn’t so much sympathy as it is experience, kindness was essential.

He can never claim to know exactly what the patients are going through. Even if they showed up with third degree burns down half their body, a punctured lung, a broken arm and some knife wounds, he wouldn’t really know. He’d just know they’d hurt like hell. Even if the injuries were the same, their story would be very different.

No one breaks the same way.

Still the things a broken person can say to another broken person can often carry more weight.

It’s one thing to offer sympathy. It’s another entirely to nod in understanding that your body doesn’t entirely feel like yours anymore, that it might never feel like yours, but you just have to keep going forward.

Over the years, Neil got very good at moving forward.

Neil tossed his running shoes by the door. It took him less than ten minutes for Neil to add his things to the furnished apartment. He'd discovered only two hospitals ago that people ask less questions if his clothes weren't covered in wrinkles from staying packed. So Neil haphazardly moved the folded scrubs onto the cheapest hangers he could find.

3:08 PM I'm all moved in.

The responding string of smiley faces to Neil's message was instantaneous despite the fact it was the middle of the afternoon and Abby was likely still on shift. (Or maybe precisely because she was on shift and had her phone on to stay up to date on patients as opposed to cutting herself off from the rest of the world to try and squeeze out some sleep.)

He didn't feel guilty per say as he closed his phone. Abby knew better to expect much from him.

"Kiddo, I'm going to take what I can get. I understand you aren’t used to having someone in your corner." She said as she bundled him up for college, doing far more than anyone had expected of her.

Well he should have expected it of her. Abby had practically laughed in his case worker's face when Cindy had brought up the different moveout options for when Neil turned 18.

It was a strange thing to have someone, even if he kept her at arm's length.

It's for her own good. The little traitorous voice in his head whispered.

Logically, Neil knew that Abby was already in too deep. Anyone, including any of his father's men seeking retribution could find her by simply looking for his file. He didn't need to maintain a relationship with her in order for Abby to be at risk. She had housed him during the trial. That would be enough for them. There was no need to push her away, to prevent her from actually knowing him.

But he felt a little bad that she knew him well enough to not ask why he had a new number or what his address was. Moving so soon after getting a housewarming package of cookies hadn’t been an overreaction and he stood by that.

When he finally met him, Matt was more of an overexcited puppy than an actual person. He dragged Neil down to the cafeteria every day they shared a break. Matt carried the conversation easily needing only the slightest input from Neil to keep going. He talked about any and everything, from college exploits to TV shows to worries that he wouldn’t be a good dad.

“It’s not like I had the best example, you know?” Matt joked even as his eyes are serious.

Neil nodded, understanding a bit too well. “Still an example. Just an example of one way to fuck up. You’ll be fine.”

He ducked his head as Matt beamed too brightly at him.

Words were a weapon he’s used to, but everything about conversations with Matt felt wrong.

Matt made him feel unbalanced. He offered up genuine parts of himself so easily. Neil wished he had something to give him in return for his easy friendship and trust, but even what was safe to say felt like it belonged to a different person entirely, a person he didn’t want to be anymore.

And what was left after that? The fact he didn’t like books or movies or vegetables. It wasn’t a fair trade. Matt shouldn’t be content to accept the breadcrumbs Neil offers in return for his raw insecurities.

But he was.

And that made Neil want to try. Try to force himself into a person Matt deserved, someone real.

Creating that person was fucking exhausting.

After two weeks, he had more than enough. Neil had a bag lunch and a mission.

Neil slipped into the stairwell without anyone spotting him and headed up. He might be able get onto the roof. But he would settle for just one of the upper floors. As long as there was no well-meaning coworker attempting to engage him in the break room or bring him down to the cafeteria, Neil would consider it a win.

The door marked “Roof Access – Maintenance Staff Only" looked like it should be locked. But a few jiggles of the handle had it opening easily enough.

The roof wasn't empty like he expected. Instead there's a figure sitting cross-legged near the front edge of the roof. Even from here, Neil could tell the man is short. Small but not delicate. Probably a former athlete from the width of his shoulders, the bulk visible even through the loose black scrubs. His short blonde hair is slightly windswept, enough so that he can see the man’s black earrings.

Neil tried to place him. He is not the best with names. He didn't see the point of attempting to remember when he’d be gone soon. But Dan had wanted to introduce him to everyone, saying something about them not being a whole bunch of "do-nothings" and it would do him some good to know the typical inhabitants of the burn ward.

Allison had taken that a step farther. Probably because she wanted gossip and hearing vague descriptions wasn't very helpful to her.

Neil stared for a second, cataloguing the man from behind, before it clicked.

Andrew Minyard, Physical Therapist.

”Monster Minyard” Allison said as she brought him around with her one day, telling him everything he should know about his new coworkers. “Bites worse than his bark. If he wasn’t so good with hopeless cases or getting rid of particularly overbearing visitors, I wouldn’t even know why we kept him around.”

The little Neil’s seen already was more than enough to know Andrew’s good.

The only way the nickname seemed to fit at all was that the man was intimidating when he wanted to be, that he could turn himself into a threat with ease. Neil had seen him practically threaten a relative with a scalpel to the chest before turning on the dime and gently helping the patient bend the joints covered with skin grafts.

But the most remarkable thing was how Andrew always let his patients set the pace.

There were sections of his own skin where Neil had lost sensation. There were days when they'd ache or itch, but he couldn't feel much beyond heat. He'd nearly decked the first doctor who touched his arm without warning him. Neil hadn't even realized he was there until the hand moved to a less ravaged spot. Everything about it had made him feel unsteady. He couldn't rely on his body to stand guard for him anymore.

But Minyard never let his patients be surprised. He narrated everything he did before he did it. Nothing was a surprise. They could say no if they didn't feel ready or if something hurt particularly bad that day. He was flexible with the patients in a way he never was with the staff.

Neil hadn't actually heard Minyard utter a word that wasn't directly related to their jobs. He moved silently through the halls, meeting attempts to socialize with deep scowls.

Maybe he'd be better off scouting out somewhere else. There was no rule that Minyard owned the roof. But Neil was also used to spotting dangerous people and everything about Minyard screamed trouble.

“What are you doing up here?”

Neil hadn’t realized Andrew had even known he was up here yet. He didn’t bother turning when Neil forced the door open.

“Trying to avoid company.” Neil moved across the room until he sat next to Andrew. They’re not quite at the edge, but there’s no guardrail. It’s unnerving.

Andrew gave a soft grunt of acknowledgement, still not looking at him.

“What are you doing on the roof?”

“Used to smoke. Never broke the habit.”

Neil merely nodded as he unwrapped his sandwich.

Andrew tilted his head just slightly to the side. “I thought that you’d be put off by smoking.”

“Is it bad to say I like the smell?”

Andrew’s nose scrunched ever so slightly. "You lie. All the time."

Neil only nodded again at the accusation.

This time it isn’t quite a lie. He did like the smell. It’s not quite the same as the Lucky Strikes his mother would blow through after she thought he was asleep. But it’s close, certainly a lot closer than the smell of burning human flesh.

But it's not like Minyard's wrong either. He did lie all the time. Sometimes it felt like lying came easier than breathing.

The rest of the staff hadn’t seemed as bothered about the lies. They were practically amused by them. Neil had smirked when he passed the break room and overheard them sharing some of the most outrageous ones.

“I heard him say to 402’s kid that he was trying to steal treasure from a palace guarded by lava, and he hadn’t been able to jump far enough on his way out.

“At least that one’s child appropriate, he told 407 that was a victim of secret government trials of new chemical warfare weapons. As if anyone with a brain couldn’t tell those were accelerant flame not pure chemical burns.” Allison added.

No one mentioned “International Jewel Thief tortured for trade secrets.” And Seth didn’t bring up “I dabbled in porn to get through college. Got a bit too into temperature play” even if it had made patient 406 laugh uproariously. It was almost a shame his best lies were unappreciated.

They’d even started a bet on what the real reason could be. It would never be settled since it required asking him directly and none of them would do that. They all liked to pretend to have morals even as they bet on everything under the sun. Besides what sort of example would it set to their patients? The one staff member that actually looked like them and yet they couldn’t even show basic decency with regards to his privacy.

Maybe they have a whole separate bet about who’s finally going to work up the courage. Neil didn’t think any of them had put money on that person being Minyard.

Minyard turned to face Neil for the first time, "Tell me something true."

It wasn’t concern on Minyard's face. The look in his eyes barely qualified as interested, but Neil still wanted to answer him. He didn’t know what to say but he can't dismiss the fact that he wanted to answer. It was easy to admit to himself he doesn't typically want anything.

"I don't see the point of icebreakers."

Minyard tapped his fingers aggressively against the roof. "I'm not asking for party tricks. I'm asking for something true."

Neil wasn't sure he even had something true to offer. What does that mean when he existed as a lie stacked atop another lie? The things he’s already told Matt don’t hold enough substance to be something true.

"I didn't even think about becoming a nurse until after all this." He gestured to himself. He can't call it an accident even if that would make it simpler.

It was no accident where Lola pressed the dashboard lighter into his face, no accident in the way she poured the gasoline. Every one of her actions had been designed to cause him the maximum amount of pain. This wasn’t an accident.

"My roommate forced me into PT. Thought that since it was his new purpose in life, it would be mine too."

"It's not like he was wrong."

"You disgust me Josten."

"I mean you can't be so good at your job without feeling something."

"It's more interesting than other options."

"So you like it then." Neil teased easily.

“Give me one good reason to not push you off the side.”

"Just try. I'd drag you with me. It's a long way down.”

It grew from there. Going to the roof was no longer about avoiding the others by spending time with Minyard, but instead about just talking with Andrew. Eating on the roof together felt easy. The conversation had rules. Answer for answer, truth for truth. There was no awkward imbalance or a desire to be something more for Andrew. They could just talk.

Neil practically collapsed into his spot on the roof with his lunch in hand. He was painfully aware of how he’d gradually crept closer since their first conversation. "Why'd you choose Palmetto?"

"Brother didn't want me in Chicago."

Neil’s head shot up from the banana he was peeling. "You have a brother?"

Andrew glared as if to say it isn't your turn idiot.

He raised his hands in mock surrender. "All right I get it. Go on. Ask your question."

"And if I think we should be done for the day?"

Neil shrugged. "I can wait."

And he could. With each day spent on the roof, Neil only craved to know more about Andrew. But he liked what they had and wouldn't dare ruin that with his impatience. The roof felt safe in a way the rest of the hospital didn't.

Andrew grunted. “What's with the orange?"

Neil rolled his eyes. "You gave me a hard time for my question and you're asking that?"

"That wasn't an answer."

"And if I just like orange?"

"You're being ridiculous."

They sat in silence for a while before Neil offered up more.

"College colors. Just never outgrew them I guess. They make me feel..."

Safe wasn't the right word. He practically spent all of college categorizing every exit on campus. Like he was a part of something feels wrong too. He left his apartment for class and an ever-changing cubicle in the library. There wasn't a whole lot to be a part of.

But Andrew nodded anyway like he actually finished the thought instead of trailing off into silence. "Feeling is dangerous."

Andrew's words were simple, but Neil could tell from the way he looked at the edge of the roof that they meant something more. It was a confession and an accusation wrapped all into one.

"So is not feeling. What are you supposed to keep living for if everything is grey and I say that as someone who actually likes grey."

Andrew scoffed, but didn’t say anything more.

Even knowing that Andrew had a mysterious estranged brother couldn’t make Neil break the silence. It wasn’t that he was afraid of pressing too far. Andrew wouldn’t let him. But he knew what it’s like to feel exposed and Andrew had already shared more than usual today.

They sat in comfortable silence until a pager goes off.

Neil wasn’t sure what the others think about the two of them.

The hospital chaplain with her oddly died hair likes to smile at him whenever she came to their floor. He thought she might be friends with Andrew, but he didn’t really care what she thought as long as she stayed out of his way.

Matt complained that he never got to eat with his new buddy anymore, but Neil wasn’t sure the rest of them even noticed.

They must have though, because their friendship was no longer confined to the roof. There were conversations in the hallways, extra food left in the break room that Neil certainly hadn’t brought himself, jokes cracked in the locker room when only Neil could hear. What they had wasn’t something that could be easily hidden away.

It certainly helped that they shared patients. They could walk down the hallway, a patient between them and debate plans for the zombie apocalypse. 402, Luis Hernandez, was a particular good sport about it, even if he was a bit too moral about the end of the world.

Neil did not have soft spots for patients. He was the epitome of professionalism. But he could admit that he liked how he had an excuse to talk to Andrew longer with Hernandez around.

"You don't have to like your scars you know?" Neil said lightly as he perched next to Hernandez’s bed, grabbing more antibiotic for the man's face. "Don't have to hate them either."

Hernandez gave a half-hearted shrug, clearly trying to stay still while gesturing to the brochures in his lap. "Everyone keeps bringing up plastic surgery."

Neil hummed. “They're going to keep doing that. I'm not saying they're an eyesore or even particularly noticeable.” He uncapped a new jar of ointment. “It’s just easier for them if they can pretend it never happened. No scars. No problem.”

“But that doesn’t mean-“

“I’m not saying it would. People are just good at ignoring what isn’t directly in front of them. And if they’re forced to see it, they have to actually acknowledge you’ve been through some shit.”

"It doesn't change what happened."

“They see something wrong, keep trying to find ways to fix things even if you don't particularly think you're broken.”

"And if I want to be fixed?"

"Then that's on you. You're recovering quicker than we expected. I don't see why you wouldn't respond positively to cosmetic treatment." Neil sighed as he laid down the old wrappings "You've just got to be the one to want it. You've gone through too much to want to start living for anyone else now."

He heard a cough behind him and only barely resisted the urge to whip around. Instead he waited until he’d finished smearing the antibiotic across this section of the man’s chest. He turned to see Andrew leaning easily against the doorframe.

“You’re good to take lunch when you’re done here.”

Neil looked upwards and Andrew nodded.

It took very little time for Neil to finish knowing that Andrew would be waiting for him on the roof.

“Did you seriously believe all that shit you were telling Hernandez?”

Neil looked at his lap where his unopened lunch sat. He suddenly wasn’t feeling particularly hungry. “People always look at the scars. Drove me mad with their staring. Hard to be invisible when you’re this fucking distinctive.”

Andrew snorted. “The scars are the least of your problems then.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Neil felt the weight of Andrew’s stare as it slowly scanned up and down his body. He huffed, wanting an actual answer.

“Are you an idiot?”

“Considering you call me that about six times a week, yes?”

Andrew angled his body toward Neil instead of the steep drop of the roof. “People find you attractive.” He shrugged, “I’d blow you.”

The confession was dropped in the middle of the conversation so easily as if it didn’t send Neil’s entire world spinning. He dug his hands into his legs trying to focus himself in any way he could.

“You like me."

"I hate you," Andrew corrected him, but Neil barely heard him, even as the other men left.

Neil got to work slightly ahead of schedule, rolled his eyes slightly at the night nurse giving him the pedantic recap of today's patients, somehow managing to drone on for ten minutes without saying anything of actual value.

Andrew would be in later, he thought absentmindedly as he washed his hands. They might be able to coordinate their breaks if he was lucky. And you might even be able to convince him at gunpoint that lately he was pretty lucky. (Although that might also be because Matt was managing the schedules and his smile was a bit too knowing.)

Still today shouldn’t be too bad. There was only so much on the burn ward he hadn’t seen before and if they had had new patients, they weren’t any of his.

412's patient was a finnicky older woman who only seemed to be living out of pure spite. She'd been in a few days now and Neil's sharp tongue had done little to endear himself to her. So it was truly a matter of his job security to get in and out as quickly as possible. If he had to hear one more complaint about ungrateful grandchildren or idiot politicians, he would snap.

The television was turned up loud in order to reach the women's bed. Despite insisting her hearing was just fine thank you very much, this meant the news could be heard down the hall. Still, Neil had gotten used to putting his head down and doing his own business.

There were enough signs that he should have known. After all, he knew it had to be interesting in order to keep Linda from complaining about the slight pinch as he repositioned her IV.

He should have heard it before he turned around to see his father's face plastered across the screen with the bold red font "Serial Killer Nathan Wesninski found dead in Baltimore Penitentiary." They'd chosen one of the trial photos as opposed to the mugshot. He looked handsome in his expensive suit with the smile he only pulled out at the business parties that left Neil sore for days.

His feet were moving before he fully registered what the headline read.

It was pure instinct to put as much distance as he could between himself and his father as possible even if it was just the picture.

Neil couldn't hear the clatter as he knocked over one of the vases. He was sure Linda was having a conniption, but he couldn’t hear it. He’s not here anymore.

He was thirteen again. And his father wore a much more dangerous grin, the kind that meant no mercy.

Neil's hands were covered in blood as he dragged his mother to the car. Hands digging into her chest as if he could force her to stay with him.

He was eight and his father had crossed the line that was even too much for his mother.

His hands shook as he tried to thread his own needle. He held the needle with his mouth, trying to thread it with one hand and using the other to force the wound together. There was just so much blood and not enough time.

You can't stop running.

He thought he heard someone calling his name. Too close. He’s too close.

You're never safe.

He darted through the closest door. It was a dead end, but it was out of sight.

When you fight back, do so quietly and quickly. You cannot risk attracting another opponent Abram.

He forced himself into the corner. There should be something here, anything really to block the door. But he didn’t see anything, and he heard footsteps. Resounding thuds against the linoleum floor. They were too close.

And if you can’t run. You hide. You hide until I come get you.

There’s space on the lower shelf. It wasn’t very big, but he’s always been small. It should be just big enough. Neil shoved the folded bedsheets and patient gowns out of the way. He would look out of place, easy enough to find if someone cared to look hard enough, but for now he just hugged his knees to his chest.

Everything felt like it’s moving too fast. His heart was pounding so loudly he’s sure it’s about to give him away. His mind wasn’t even forming full thoughts anymore, just racing ahead of him. He squeezed himself even tighter as if he can force out the emotions.

He only vaguely felt his right hand digging into his left arm over the burn scars. He knew he should stop. He hadn’t picked at them in years, tried not to irritate them more than necessary so they didn’t draw attention to him. But it’s not like it mattered now. He’d be dead soon. He should be worrying about if Abby would be able to find the body and how long it’d take the hospital to notify her since after everything she was still his emergency contact.

He should have tried to think his way out of this.

But he couldn’t get his thoughts to stop for a fucking second. Just one second might be enough to find a miracle. But even if Neil Josten had ever deserved a miracle, he’d used up his share. He’d made it to twenty-six. But now, he was going to die.

He knows it won’t be a painless death. There’s only so much a human body could take, a line at which point the mind can’t comprehend the pain anymore. But Nathan Wesninski knew the line and played it like a violin. He’d want to take his time, really make his son feel every inch of his displeasure. There was no way Neil would be able to contain his screams for long enough to satisfy him. His father would risk getting him out of this hospital if it meant he could take his time.

Neil wouldn’t let himself be taken. To lose consciousness now was to accept a long painful death. He would not leave this hospital, not ever again. He would take a quick painful death over a long painful one any day.

But to get a quick death though he needed to be here. And he couldn’t seem to force himself to be. He kept seeing flashes of other moments.

Blood snaking down toward the drain of their concrete basement. Romero’s fingernails digging into his skin as Lola brandished her knife. His father’s grin menacing and horrible.

It spoke to his terror that he didn’t notice when the door opened.

"Hey." The voice is soft, gentle in a way the Butcher of Baltimore was never capable of sounding even when he was playing pretend as a productive member of society.

Still the sound has Neil's head shooting up, just to be sure. Andrew is standing with his back to the door.

"You're Neil Josten. You're in the supply closet at Palmetto Public Hospital. You're safe." The words wrapped around him like a caress.

It felt less like he was drowning.

Neil still couldn’t move, so he just stared. Stared as Andrew moved forward, every step light, his arms raised in front of him to show his empty hands.

Andrew repeated the refrain as he squatted down near Neil's hiding spot in the linens. His hazel eyes stared into Neil's. They're warm like sunlight, like they could cut through the shadow of Neil's soul.

"It’s over. You're safe. Can you breathe with me?"

Neil didn't move. He couldn’t force his tongue to wrap around the words, couldn’t even decide what the words should be.

"We're going to do this together." Andrew shifted from his squat to sitting cross-legged next to him. He's close to the shelving unit, but he wasn’t trying to force Neil out. Andrew exaggerated his own breathing.

He didn’t know how long they sit there before Neil feels his own breathing falling in sync. They're not deep breaths. Just shallow rasps, but he's trying.

Andrew put his hand out in front of him. "Can I touch you?"

He nodded haltingly.

Neil didn’t move away when Andrew gently cupped the side of his face, running a finger over the puckered skin. “You’re not there.” His voice was soft, but it practically echoed in the small closet.

When Neil nodded this time, it feels more natural.

Neil shifted in his position on the lowest shelf. He wiggled his limbs slowly, taking stock of all ten toes and fingers. He's all in one piece. He's fine.

He didn’t know what Andrew sees in his glance, but he's happy when Andrew backs up so he can crawl out of the shelving unit. "Yes or no?"

He hated how broken his voice sounded. His father wasn't even here. His father was dead. He shouldn't sound so lost.

Andrew's stare was penetrating. "To what? I'm not going to kiss you. You're having a mental breakdown Josten."

Neil bit his lip. That hadn't been what he was thinking of at all. He almost wished he had been, because it would have been nice to just lose himself in the sensation, let his body be consumed with raw need for Andrew until there was no room for fear.

"Just touching you. Leaning on you."

Neil knew Andrew didn't like being touched. It felt wrong to want to envelop himself in Andrew, to even ask knowing that, but he's desperate.

"It's a yes," Andrew said as he settled down again legs extended in front of him.

Neil curled easily against his side, Neil's head resting in the crook of his neck. It's nice to sit there just listening to Andrew breathing, knowing that there will never be a future where Nathan Wesninski will get his hands on this bright spot in his son's world.

"I should be happier."

"Bullshit. There is no should."

"He's dead. He's finally dead. That has to mean something."

Andrew adjusted himself to free one of his hands. He threaded it easily through Neil's hair. "Maybe someday it will. When was the last time you thought about him before today?"

Neil wanted to snap back that he'd never stopped thinking about his father, that every decision he made was just one in a long way of keeping himself safe from Nathan Wesninski and his subordinates. But he couldn't. For the last month or so, Palmetto had felt safe.

He'd spent nights marathoning movies in Andrew's apartment and stolen moments on the roof. He treasured Matt's laughter and the yell of joy at grocery deliveries that was quickly hushed because babies are fickle things that never stop crying. He even thought of Allison trying to convince him to let her take him shoe shopping.

Slowly Neil had built something, something untouched by his father. And then his gloating face had come crashing into it, ruining something even in death.

Andrew took his silence as a sign that he was right. “They come where they aren’t wanted. Doesn’t mean they get to stay.

Neil hummed and leaned more of his weight onto Andrew.

“Do you have any other clothes?”

Neil looked up at him confused.

“You’re not staying here,” Andrew said as if talking to a small child.

Neil pushed himself into a standing position, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet to try to give credence to his protests. “I’m fine. I’ve got a whole shift ahead of me.”

Andrew glared. “I’m taking care of that.”

Neil wanted to call bullshit, but he didn’t.

He let himself be manhandled into the locker room where Andrew tossed him some clothes. The black sweats are too short, but the sweatshirt hung comfortably off him. The grey material smelt like Andrew, so he hugged it tighter to himself as he waited for him to get back.

He didn’t jump when Andrew wrapped an arm around him and directed him toward the parking lot.

Maybe he was just done feeling, because he couldn’t even find it in himself to be surprised by the GS Andrew pushed him into. It was much nicer than anything a PT should be able to afford.

They drove in silence. At first, Neil stared out the window letting the surroundings blur as they got on the highway. Eventually though he shifted to stare at Andrew. Neil wasn't sure how long it had been when Andrew finally pulled off the highway into a dingy gas station. The sun had set at some point, but that wasn't much of a clue. Neil didn't even bother to check the clock when Andrew turned the car back on with his hands full of junk food.

"Do you want to go back to your apartment?" Andrew asked as he viciously bit into the twinkie.

"No." The answer was instantaneous even if Neil didn't know why. He should want to go curl up in the far corners of his bed with the door locked and the world unable to touch him. But the thought of leaving this moment, leaving Andrew felt like too much.

He didn't know when Andrew turned into a safe place. Neil was used to standing on his own, but now it felt like he didn't have to. It wasn't just today. Andrew had been there today, but the trust had been building gradually until Neil realized it felt like Andrew could protect him from the world.

"Kevin's going to ask questions."

Neil barely stifled his groan. While he'd only met the man a handful of times, Andrew's roommate was a common topic of conversation on the roof.

"Why do you even live with him if you hate him so much?" Neil asked.

"Don't ask stupid questions." Andrew said his eyes still focused on the road.

Because he's one of yours. Neil thought to himself.

Kevin was Andrew's in a way Neil could never be. Kevin was the person who stayed even after he fulfilled his end of a deal in college. Andrew may complain about his constant nagging, his hypocrisy when it came to Andrew's sweet tooth, his attempts to get Andrew to join his countless intermural sports teams. But at the end of the day, even when Aaron rejected him, Kevin stayed. And for that Andrew would never let him go.

Still the thought of dealing with Kevin’s seemingly endless energy felt like too much right now.

"The hospital's fine. I can get home from there."

Andrew gave him a disparaging look. "Now is not the time Rabbit. Give me the address."

"I'm surprised you don’t already have it. The lock on staff records too hard to break?"

Andrew snorted as he changed lanes.

He still felt rubbed raw from the way he'd broken so easily even if it had been nearly six years since he'd been near his father at all. So he knew Andrew was right, he couldn’t handle other people. He gave his address even as Andrew smirked.

After leaving the safety of the car, he'd ran about eight miles on the treadmill that had certainly seen better days. Typically he'd prefer to run outside and let the breeze carry his worries away from him. But the thought of people made him want to shrink. He'd take the cheap gym with locker rooms that smelt vaguely of mold if it meant he could avoid interactions with all but two people.

He ran to the hospital the rest of the week too. It wasn't worth trying to navigate the subway when he'd be looking over his shoulder the entire way.

Neil wasn't being paranoid. His father was dead. So were Romero and Jackson. Lola and the majority of the minions he'd met were in prison. But there had to be some he hadn't met. People the FBI hadn't even thought to warn him about. He hadn't expected to live this long and if he had to keep one eye over his shoulder, his duffel bag always packed and a new city every few months to keep living he'd do it.

But for now, he had time. He could make the most of his time at Palmetto.

He knew now that Andrew wanted him, and even though he’d never given the thought of kissing much thought before. He was suddenly desperate for Andrew’s lips on his. Andrew made him feel like he didn’t have an expiration date, like the future didn’t actually matter. For someone always thinking three steps ahead, that felt entirely new. But he thought he could get used to it.

Neil had just finished helping Hernandez check out when Dan walked back onto the unit for the first time.

He did a double take at first. He still had three weeks left on his contract and being reminded of just how little time he had left made him grit his teeth.

Typically he’d already have his next location lined up, but Neil hadn’t even sent in his application yet.

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew prolonging the inevitable wasn’t a good idea. Pretending he could stay long enough to memorize the feel of Andrew’s hands on his scars and their mouths pressed together desperately would do him no favors. Neil knew when he started that anything they started had a clear expiration date.

But seeing Dan with her little yellow bundle made him realize how close that date actually was.

Luckily Neil was spared from giving Dan more than a cursory nod due to Allison practically sprinting down the hallway to the front desk.

Allison’s smile was dazzling as she gestured toward the baby. “I’m so glad to see you. Now give me my niece.”

Dan merely rolled her eyes. She looked more tired than the last time Neil had seen her, but also happier. The dark bags under her eyes were matched by a brilliant smile.

When she hesitated to hand her newborn over, Allison put her hands on her hips. "You're in a hospital Dan. It's not like we don't know how to take care of her"

"And when was the last time you did an OBGYN rotation?"

Allison flipped her blond ponytail dramatically. "I'll have you know I could do it any day. I just like you too much to be reassigned."

"And you'd be a bitch to replace. Here." Dan smirked even as she handed over the baby.

"Oh She's absolutely precious, Auntie Allie's going to absolutely spoil you. Yes she is" Allison cooed as she held the newborn.

Dan watched her with a smile. "Randy's a lifesaver, but I'm not about to say no to more babysitters."

"Wait until she's older. I’ve got enough diapers to change as is.”

Dan snorts.

"So when are you back officially then? I need my bestie back."

"I'm still working out the details."

Allison snorted.

Neil busied himself with sorting through the pain medication records for 409, pretending to ignore the weight of Dan's stare.

But Allison had no intention of ignoring it. "You mean we get to keep him?"

"Honestly Al, he's not a stray cat."

"So?"

"And I haven't asked him yet, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't scare him away in the meantime."

"Of Course Dan. I wouldn't dare." Allison smiled again at the baby before announcing that clearly Auntie Allie was the only one who could give a proper tour and that maybe "We'll even find daddy in time for him to change your diaper."

Dan rolled her eyes but wasted none of her newfound baby-free time in waiting to approach Neil.

"I'm so glad I was able to catch you. I've heard nothing but good things about you since you started."

Neil glanced up from the paperwork, but kept his fingers wrapped tightly around the clipboard. "Most of them from your husband I assume."

Dan laughed good naturally. "You’d certainly think so. I swear if I hadn't already cemented myself as his favorite person, I'd be worried."

Neil grimaced.

"But it isn't just him." Dan stepped closer. "How are you enjoying Palmetto Public Neil?"

"It's fine."

Despite his lackluster answer, she seemed undeterred. "I'm glad to hear it, because we've been so happy to have you here. And since we're always short-staffed, I was able to get the board to approve your transition to a full-time position if you want it."

Neil swallowed, a pit already forming in his stomach. "That's-"

"You don't have to give me an answer now. I was just stopping in today and wanted to let you know as soon as possible so you could get your affairs in order."

She smiled so eagerly at him. He almost felt guilty when he said, "No. I'm grateful for the offer and all, but I can't stay."

"Oh." Dan's voice was so small. She looked absolutely heartbroken.

He grimaced again.

"Well, if you change your mind, just know you're always welcome here."

Neil forced himself to turn back to the paperwork to give her a chance to slink away. He wasn't actually reading, probably couldn't even if he tried.

They wanted him to stay.

And that very fact made him want to run until he couldn’t move anymore.

Neil at least stopped himself from running out of the hospital. He went to the roof, where things had always been just a little bit clearer. Maybe if he could just think, he could make his heart stop pounding.

"Why are you being such an idiot?" Andrew's voice was angrier than he'd ever heard him as he slams the door open. "I can't believe you."

"What's there to believe?"

Andrew stalked across the room toward him. Neil knew what angry men could do, but he wasn't afraid not even as Andrew practically spit in his face. "That you're just going to run off again like a fucking rabbit."

"It's better for everyone." His voice sounded empty even to his own ears.

Andrew dug his hand into Neil's shoulder. "Don't give me that shit."

Neil looked at him blankly.

"He's dead."

"So?"

"So stop running."

"I don't know how." The words were small, but he felt the truth in every ounce of his body. He's never had somewhere worth staying or anyone worth staying for.

Abby had tried, tried so much harder than anyone else. But it wasn't the same. He couldn't stop feeling like the scarred boy who'd come into her care determined not to need anyone. And she was all too willing to watch him walk away. He didn't need to stay anywhere to be worth something.

He couldn't explain why this time was different. Why he ached at the thought of never listening to Allison tease him. Why never talking to Matt again made him want to curl in on himself. He certainly couldn't explain why the thought of not being able to laugh with Andrew, not being able to see him every day physically pained him. He needed Andrew in a way he hadn't needed anyone since his mother died.

Neil was desperate for him to understand. "Tell me to stay. You have to tell me to stay."

"Why should I? Nothing will come of it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Neil wanted to scream. Scream that maybe if Andrew just asked he'd be able to. He'd be able to force down all the impulses telling him to run, just like he was able to stop himself from running out of the hospital entirely at Dan's offer. Instead he ran to the roof, where it was safe, where Andrew made it safe.

Andrew pushed him away and Neil already felt himself stepping forward unconsciously, trying to close the distance between them.

"It means I'm self-destructive, not stupid. I'm not going to ask when you clearly don't want to. I won't make you."

I'd never make you.

Andrew didn’t say that, but Neil heard it anyway. Because Andrew never pushed when it came to consent, to wanting this thing between them.

It's why he's so desperate for Andrew to understand now.

"It's always been 'go. It's always been 'lie' and 'hide' and 'disappear'." Neil gestured wildly as if trying to grab the words from thin air. "I've never belonged anywhere or had the right to call anything my own. You can't expect me to just know how to-”

Neil trailed off when he saw Andrew's face. It was stony even to his impassioned plea.

He didn't know how he could fix this. He felt like he was hanging on by a fraying thread as it was. "I'm so tired of being nothing."

"Then stop making yourself be nothing. Let yourself have this."

Neil felt himself floundering even more. "It's not that simple."

Andrew huffed and turned away from him. "I don't have time for rabbits or idiots."

He let the door slam as he left.

Getting through the rest of the day was a blur. Neil just kept thinking about Andrew walking away from him and the rooftop door echoing too loudly as it closed. His apartment was no better.

There was nothing in the little apartment that Neil was renting that looked remarkably like home. He was used to packing his life up in to the grey duffel bag every few months. Nothing he bought couldn’t be replaced at any big box store.

It never really bothered him before.

That wasn’t to say he hadn’t noticed how other people’s spaces seemed to fit them. But he had spent so long trying to blend in that he wasn’t even sure what he could add to make the space feel more like him.

He didn’t have the college pictures to string along his wall like Dan and Matt. He didn’t even have the dime-a-dozen motivational posters that Kevin seemed to favor the few times he’d been to the apartment he shared with Andrew. He certainly didn’t have the wall of books that Andrew kept in his own room.

Up until recently he wouldn’t have cared.

But for the first time in his life, Neil was starting to feel like a real person. A real person was supposed to have something that other people could remember them by, to identify them with. Neil had his job and the scars on his face.

And Andrew. Andrew who didn’t seem to care about either.

If anything Andrew scoffed at the desperation he brought to his job when they both know that you couldn’t save everyone, and that most of the time you couldn’t save the people who deserved it either.

But Neil could see the way he cared even if he didn’t make it his entire personality or guiding force. His chart notes were too detailed. His frown all the deeper when things went wrong. He was too good at his job to not care at least a little bit. And there was no one at Palmetto that could deny that Andrew was brilliant at his job.

While others could look at Neil and see nothing but his injuries, there was a way that Andrew looked at him, his eyes pooling like honey that made Neil feel like Andrew was seeing everything but his scars.

Somehow he even looked happy with what he found.

It made him want to stay, to take that little feeling and nurture it until Neil could see something in himself too. Something worth being happy about.

He sent out three texts one right after the other.

The first was to Andrew. “I’m not an idiot or a rabbit.”

It was simple, but it said everything. Neil wasn’t running from this, wasn’t running from Andrew. Tomorrow they could talk, but for now it had to be enough.

“Can I really stay?”

It was less professional than it should be, considering Dan would be his supervisor if everything worked out. But he didn’t have another way to ask. It felt like pulling teeth to even write those four words.

Neil shouldn’t have turned her down so quickly this afternoon. He should have let himself realize how much he wanted this, realize how forcing himself to move again felt like he was leaving a part of himself behind that he didn’t even know he had before.

But he needn’t have worried. Dan’s reply was practically instantaneous. “Of Course!!!! I’ll make sure to go over all the paperwork tomorrow.”

The last message was one he should have sent twelve weeks ago. It was only his address. But Abby would know what it meant. She always did.

#rbb 2021 #aftg #aftg fic #neil josten #andrew minyard #andreil #andreil fic #hospital au #so many potential triggers so please read bolded list #blood #burns #torture #panic attacks #are the big ones

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reginaofdoctorwho · 3 years

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weird shit that would probably have something to do with me in a horror movie

no one wanted this but i’m bored and found a bottle so you’re all getting it. yes these are all true. check the tags, if u think i’ve missed something please let me know!

there was a murder (technically, i don’t really count it as a murder) next door when i was four years old on christmas morning

the weird antique glass bottle i found half-buried in the woods in the woods yesterday with living bugs in it that made no attempt to leave it once i uncovered it

there is a local cult in the next town over. this is not the same as the local cult that was in the other town over where my mom grew up

random completed animal skeletons in the woods behind our house, i’m talking prey and predator, both laid out like in a goddamn scientific diagram. for a while there’d be ones in the middle of our yard, always the same type of animal, always just the bones and nothing else, laid out like it was posed. this has been happening for over half a decade and we have no fucking clue how, why, or who is doing it

the screaming from the woods that i’m going to assume is a fox

my sister almost dated a murderer. his niece or something is in my class

there is a house that is now part of a “local ghost tour” that belonged to my great+ grand parents during the civil war where my great+ aunt died allegedly murdered by her husband who is actually blood related to me. family history says she died of childbirth, which given that it was the 1800s... probably is true

there was an actual murderer in our family a few generations back but he married in and killed his wife and her sister. they didn’t find out about it until they read his journals after he died where it apparently told everything he did and they decided. “well, that wouldn’t look good for the family, and they’re already dead anyway” and just kept it hidden??

the fact we have my great great grandmother’s dress from probably 1890s or 1900s. even more so the fact that i fit in it. if this was fantasy horror (vampires, some immortal thing or ghost) i’d be fucking dead or cursed

fairly certain i was possessed by the ghost of a puritan as a kid

my family seems to have a curse with babies and nurses? my great uncle died when he was born because long story short, hospitals were the new hot thing, he was perfectly healthy, then a nurse dropped him and he died instantly. my sister died when she was a toddler and the hospital actively tried to delete her hospital records to cover it up and ended up getting fined by the state for it. the nurses responsible were not arrested or punished in any way.

my family all has fucked up connective tissue, in my brother it was bad enough he had to get a steel bar in his chest so it wouldn’t cave in.

the many times i have almost drowned, sometimes due to intentional actions by humans (my dad, it was my dad)

this in addition to the other fucked up shit he did before the divorce when he still lived here, including but not limited to: killing my mom’s favorite pet goat, hanging its skull in a tree, and leaving the body in the woods. not letting his kids learn how to cook. anytime someone asked him to cook he’d put as much pepper/hot sauce in as he could (even for like, scrambled eggs) and give it to the youngest person, usually a toddler. this was me at times. taking his kids out to the woods and threatening murder. taking his kids out to the woods and threatening burning. purposely locked the basement from the inside so we couldn’t get the gaping hole in the stairs leading to one of three kids rooms fixed. tearing up pictures of the kids whenever my mom did something he didn’t like. i had more here but i tried to cut it down a litttle

people have threatened to murder me before. one time a girl didn’t threaten, and actually acted like she was starting to like me, but her cousin read her diary or something and found out she was planning to commit a lot of murder, and told her parents and she got sent to a psychiatric ward for a couple weeks

my mom lived down the street from a family that got axe-murdered by one of their two sons when she was a kid. the murderer did get out on an insanity plea and is still in the area. also their neighbor’s mom “lost her mind” (how the story was told) when she had to protect their kids while her husband went over to try to protect the non murderer son when he got home from school and ran over screaming about his brother trying to kill him and had killed their parents

also she knew a girl who almost got kidnapped by this really fucked up traveling serial killer that has his own wikipedia page that is,,, lengthy. the girl had [alleged] mafia ties, and the guy ended up dying shot by police despite them being told to bring him in, which sounds kinda suspicious

long story short i’d probably be the sequel where one comes back

apparently i go to the “bad” school, which i found out in a coffee shop when i overheard two girls talking about how one’s dad went there and how horrible and dangerous it is

school fights are weird. either they don’t happen or they come freakishly close to murder. people slam heads into lockers, stomp on bones, drag people by hair along the ground. one time in my brother’s class a 4′9″ girl sent a 6′2″ football player to the hospital. there was video of a fight a couple years ago that’s still around. it was brutal, but also one of the girls fighting was taking one for the team in it and got the other kicked out

we don’t have a ceiling in all of the third floor, and the cafeteria has 2. this is not relevant in any way, but it’s important to me that you know this

also the guys kept ripping the heating vents/radiators/whatever off the walls in their bathrooms and got almost all the bathrooms locked. including the girls’ ones.

also everyone kept punching holes in the walls so on some of them it’s just,,, metal sheeting down the whole hallway

there are so many fucking shootings in the next town over. literally five years ago it was this nice place where kids would go on history tours, i did when my sister worked for that group. now there is pretty much one business that has not been held up at gunpoint, and if u look up to the serial killer bullet point, it is for v similar ties. it’s a pizza place and if u ever stop by u gotta try it

women in my family have weirdly good intuition but every couple generations we get doubtful. my great grandma didn’t want a hospital birth but decided “hey it’s the hot new thing for a reason”, my mom switched churches based on nothing but intuition and it turned out someone was a pedophile there (found out years later), i instantly could tell my friend’s boyfriend was a pos and wasn’t surprised later when he told her he’d murder and dismember me in front of her, and upon meeting him told him he was a fucking coward and couldn’t do it. he broke up with her a month later.

i was really good friends for a while with two guys that burned a building down. yes they were arrested. i was friends before and after the fire. they’re pretty nice, but this girl they used to date (at different times, they were brothers, yes it was fucking weird and uncomfortable for everyone involved except her but that’s it’s own thing) said some fucked up shit and it was the closest i ever got to starting a fight. anyway i’m still friends with both on facebook. one of them shares a lot of king of the hill memes

speaking of that fight, i 100% would’ve tried to kill her in that moment. u know that john mulaney quote like “i didn’t understand how a person could want to kill another person. then i got cheated on, and i was like ‘oh, okay.’”? that was me, but replace “cheated on” with she told me it was good my five year old sister was dead because she was a waste, and told me she hoped i’d die of covid”. it was mainly the sister thing. i couldn’t move because if i did i’d start a fight with the [way] above mentioned shit.

my family has a literal feud with a local farming family. i mean, we keep farm animals (sheep, goats, chickens), these people have that, pigs, and crops too. the feud was because their great uncle (or great grand uncle, i’m a little fuzzy on the details) published an autobiography (despite not being anyone famous/important) and in it talked about when he was friends with my grandfather and how creepy my great grandfather was (this was the one with the dead firstborn son) because he kept newspaper clippings of the Lindbergh baby’s kidnapping and murder pinned to a board on the wall of his office/basement. also because he was a child of german immigrants who wanted to fight against nazis in WW2 (how suspicious [sarcasm]). members of their family are in my grade. they charged my sister for almost half an extra pound of goods, too, which just revitalized it.

i live by corn fields. i am surrounded by cornfields. (joke one)

i was friends for a while with this girl whose baby teeth,,, didn’t really fall out completely? she was 17 the last time i saw her in person, she’s probably 19 now and judging by her facebook pictures they’re still Like That. she had a very symmetrical mouth/teeth, which made it weirder. just to clarify, she had some of her baby teeth pushed forward and up, so they kind pointed out a little? and all her adult teeth. she was literally so pretty.

a teacher who is v sexual with his female students came into my english class (he is a science teacher) to demand why i wasn’t signed up for his class. we then both became increasingly passive aggressive and he told the whole class where i live with specific directions and landmarks. the guy sitting next to me had to try to tone things down despite being obviously confused as to why it was even happening (me too buddy). he lives down the road from my sister. when my niece had her birthday party at our house i was outside setting things up and he slowed his car down and honked at me. fuckin creep

#tw child death #tw animal death #tw arson #i guess?#tw shooting #tw murder #a lot of that one actually #tw child abuse #tw violence #let me know if u think i should tag anything else #no one wanted this #except for me #tw cult

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #299

“you look so beautiful tonight / reminds me how you laid us down and gently smiled before you destroyed my life.”

Ever done any drugs? Besides alcohol, no. How many people have you kissed? Three or four. What’s your favorite show to binge? I could only ever willingly *binge* Meerkat Manor and not get bored after like, two episodes. Do you watch porn? No, it's never appealed to me. What’s one of your fantasies? Being financially stable. :^) Do you have/would you get your nipples pierced? I've lightly considered getting one, but I really doubt I ever will. What’s the most overrated movie? /shrug. Let people like what they like. Tag someone you want to talk to but have been too shy to message. I'd love to get to know my Facebook acquaintance Courtlynn better; I've wanted to for a long time. I think we could be fantastic friends. We'll like each other's stuff regularly and occasionally leave comments, but we don't really talk. Do you like paper books or ebooks better? Paper ones, by a long shot. I just really like the feeling of a book and being able to clearly see how far in you are. I enjoy the smell and sound of turning pages. If you could live in a fictional world, what world would you pick? Probably Wonderland, realistically. I would say Azeroth, but too much world-threatening shit goes on every day lol. If money was no object, what would your wardrobe be like? G O T H Do you still have feelings for any of your exes? Yep. Do you drink? Very, very rarely. Almost exclusively during celebrations or on the once in a blue moon occasion we go to a sit-down restaurant. Do you read erotica? No. It would make me super uncomfortable. What color was the last candle you lit? I don't remember at all. Do you own a treadmill? No, but I want one. Have you ever signed up for a gym membership? Well, not exactly me. Mom and Nicole both had memberships to Planet Fitness, and I was able to come as a guest. It was just cheaper that way. What color was the last fish you had? That I owned or ate? Either way, idr. Is there a garbage can in your room? What color is it? No. If you play The Sims, do you download custom clothes, hair, etc? I don't play it. Does your animal sleep with you? Roman does, yes. He legitimately spoons with me lmao. Sometimes he'll move to the bottom of the bed, other times he'll sleep through most of the night there. Have you ever had to wear a hairnet? Yes. What is your favorite song to play on Guitar Hero or Rock Band? "Hotel California" by The Eagles on expert is so much fun and just feels good. The ending solo is just great. When you drink chocolate milk do you just buy the jug of it or the syrup that you can put into the milk? Almost always just the chocolate syrup. Do you own a robe? What color is it? No. What’s the worst abuse you have done to your phone? I know I've thrown it across the room once. Well, not my current phone, but a really old one. How did you meet your first love? High school. Well, you could maybe say Facebook. He sent me a friend request and I literally only accepted it because I thought it was another Jason. We talked via messenger some and then we ran into each other at school, and tbh I kinda knew I was fucked from there lmao. Have you ever worn the opposite sex’s underwear? I don't believe so, no. Have you ever kissed in a pool? Yeah. Are there any hobbies you have that you don’t perform in front of others? I absolutely cannot write in front of others, and I HATE drawing when people are watching. What do you do when you simply don’t know what to do? Odds are I'll probably be scraping the bottom of the barrel to find something in WoW that sounds even remotely fun, or I'll browse Facebook. How did you find out about your current favorite band? He's one of my mom's favorite singers/bands, so I grew up with some of his music, and when I was getting into rock and metal, I decided to go through her music case and listen to some of it. Ozzy's Black Rain album set the adoration into motion. Where are you most likely to go when you need clothing? The Internet or Wal-Mart, depending on what kind of clothes I need. When was the last time you tried to do something yet failed? I should have an answer for this very quickly... yet I'm unsure. I don't think anything *major* has happened in a while. Oh, this is a tiny thing, but I did look really hard for the pencil sharpener so my niece could finish coloring her drawing, but I couldn't find the damn thing for anything. Do you think your life is comprised more of success or failure? Lots and lots of failure. What’s one personality trait that’s not strong in you? Uhhh outgoing, ig. Are you a difficult individual to get to know? Considering I hide a lot about myself to try and be accepted, yes. When was the last time you opened up to someone and about what? Literally yesterday to my mom about this unreasonably massive fear I've had lately that she doesn't have much longer in her. I'm terrified she's going to get COVID or her cancer just comes back faster than we hope. To whom do you feel the most important? My mom. Is there something you want but might not ever have? Many things. What’s something you’re working to obtain? Mental stability. Do you tend to enjoy your dreams? No, considering they're usually violent and rarely just psychotic nightmares. Are there any projects or goals you’ve recently abandoned? Hm. What in life serves to keep you going? The hope it'll get better, and I'll reach a point of actually being happy and content with my life. What was the last good news you received? Nicole's trip to Maryland to bring back a baby was successful (if that sounds weird, she's a child social worker). He has a heart condition where if his heartbeat or something like that was irregular, she'd have driven all the way up there for nothing; the baby wouldn't have been able to take the ride. Are you more inclined to appreciate sweet or savory foods? Sweet. Are romantic relationships important to you at this point in your life? I mean I'd like to be in one, but I highly doubt it'd be successful, just given where I am in life. I'd be signing up for heartbreak. Who was the last person to apologize to you for something they did? I don't know. Probably Mom for something minor, like just bumping into me or something. Are you wearing a necklace, and if so, who got it for you? No. What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve done lately? Lately? Uh. I don't know, but I can guarantee to you it wasn't long ago at all, considering breathing embarrasses me, pretty much. Do you ‘think out loud’? Sometimes. Do you take gummy vitamins? No. How do you know the majority of the people you know? Former schools. Hell, or maybe various online locations. I just might have more online friends and acquaintances than in-person. Is there a random object you own that has a huge personal significance? I've talked about my pebble from my partial hospitalization program enough. Can you play electric guitar? I used to be able to play a little bit; I took guitar lessons for a short while in high school. Best I could do was the intro to "Crazy Train," but I'd still occasionally mess up. Are you one of those people who chew two pieces of gum, not one? Usually. Do you believe in ghosts/supernatural occurrences? Yes. Without the aid of mascara, do you have long eyelashes? Yeah. Is there a kind of music you listen to that helps you release your anger? Yes, usually songs that are also angry. How does it make you feel looking at pics with your ex and someone else? The only case this has ever happened was with Jason and his gf after me. There are no words to describe the fucking hatred I felt. I haven't seen pictures of him with an s/o in a long time, and I absolutely never plan on seeking them out ever again. What song are you listening to right now? "Rest In Pieces" by Saliva. If you’re not in college, why? I couldn't handle the stress anymore. Just couldn't. Do you own a studded belt from Hot Topic? I have a good number of old ones from high school, actually. I wore them all the time. I could never fit into them now. Favorite fictional character? Um, Darkiplier, duh. Most recent thing you are looking forward to? I think it's finally set in stone that I'm getting my tattoo redone soon. Thanks to my laptop saying "ha fuck you," it's not as soon as I originally planned since I had to pay to fix it, but Mom seems fine with helping me pay for my birthday. Not a guarantee that it'll happen on that date of course, given scheduling, but yeah. It should fucking finally be happening. How many stairs can you climb before you wanna pass out? This is too embarrassing to even answer lmao. Have you ever kissed someone with braces? No. Would you ever consider adoption? I don't want kids, and even if I did, I probably wouldn't. I feel like I'd personally need the "wow this is a part of me (and/or my s/o)" connection. Do you ever go hunting/fishing? I would never go hunting, and the only occasion in which I'd fish again is if Dad asked me. I don't like the idea of fishing for fun anymore, but that's like... always been our bonding experience, and I wouldn't tell him no. Do you know anyone who plays guitar? Knew. What are you currently sitting/laying on? My bed. Who are your godparents? I don't think I have any. Do you have any friends who are famous? I have two friends who are parts of bands, but idk how successful they are. I don't think either are like, huge. Nova Mortis if you're into heavy metal and I think Toukan does rap? When was the last time you stayed at a hotel? Hm. I have no idea. What side of a heart do you draw first? Uhhhh I think the left? What is your mom saved as in your phone? "Mama Bear." Do you want your tongue pierced? I had snake eyes for a while, but I took them out because I kept chipping my teeth. I miss that piercing, it was so cute, but it wasn't worth ruining my teeth. Ever made out in a pool? It's possible very briefly, idr. Do you like to have long hair or short hair? SHORT. SHORT. SHORT. Do you change your phone background a lot? Not really. Would you get back with your last ex if you could? Yeah. Have you ever been strip searched? No. Has the person you like ever seen you in your pajamas? Yes. What is your least favorite type of chocolate? White chocolate is way too sweet. Did anyone see your last kiss? It was at an airport, so probably. Do you want a boyfriend or girlfriend? I mean, I do, but I don't really know how smart it would be right now. Is there anyone you wish you could fix things with? A few. Who IMed you on Facebook last? My friend Girt. Were you kinda scared of the goths in high school? Hell naw man, I looked up to them lmao. What size is your mattress? (single,twin,double,queen,king) Queen. Do you like spaghetti? Hell yeah. It was my favorite food as a kid. What about lasagna? No; I don't like the cheese at all. Have you ever been stung by anything? What was it? Mosquitoes of course, as well as a bee once. Maybe other things, idk. Have you ever worn contacts? (even just to try them out) Yes, but I changed to glasses because I had too much trouble putting them in and taking them out. Have you ever had any suspicious moles removed? No. Have you ever been screened for STDs? No. Did you have your tonsils taken out? No. Did you have your appendix taken out? No. Do you have any collector’s glasses or cups or mugs? What is a "collector's" glass or mug? Were you your parents’ first born? No; I'm the middle child. Do you have a child? Is the father still with you? No. Were you born perfectly healthy or with some (or a lot) of health issues? I was born healthy. Good 'ole days. Did you ever catch any bugs or insects with your friends as a kid? Ohhhh yes, my neighbor and I loved doing that. My favorite was catching fireflies with my sisters, though. Would you prefer to travel around the world by yourself or with a friend? With a friend. I'd get lonely. Do you know anybody who has been diagnosed with cancer? A whole lot, sadly... I'm despising that disease more and more every day that goes by. I know far too many people who have it or have died at its hands. Have you ever had to take care of an intoxicated person? No. Do you and your boyfriend/girlfriend fight a lot? N/A. Do not stay in a relationship where fighting is common. Would you ever share a site password with a family member or partner? I mean sure, depending on the site and person, and the reason they (may) need it. Has anyone ever told you they couldn't trust you? Hm... I actually don't think so? Who in your family has the prettiest eyes? Idk, I don't see enough of my extended family to know. What is an odd food item you would like to try, or have tried? I'm sure there's something I'd like to try, but nothing I think about with consistency, really... Most "odd" food I find unappealing anyway. When/if you drive, do you go the speedlimit? When I did, I certainly always tried to, but I was bad at maintaining a stable speed. I went up and down too much. Are you an aggressive driver? Or more passive-aggressive? I was dangerously passive at driving. Describe a hairstyle you had as a little kid? Well, I had long hair with bangs. What routine of yours would you most hate to break? Probably stopping getting a soda first thing in the morning... That is like so deeply ingrained into my day and is a motivator to get up in the first place. I want to change this to where I'm not allowed to grab one until I've had a full cup of water, but yeah, that hasn't happened yet. Has jealousy ever ruined one of your friendships/relationships? Honestly? I think it's possible that Jason totally split on me because of it. We were in this very unstable "friends" position after the breakup and hung out very briefly and awkwardly twice (which I'm pretty sure he didn't want), and I think one of our last attempts at conversation was who a girl he was talking to via Messenger was. No, before any assumptions are made, I didn't snoop. He showed me something on his phone and I just inevitably saw the little Facebook chat icon of a girl I didn't recognize. I don't even remember his answer. I just know it wasn't too long later I was blocked and everything. What is one restaurant you would NOT recommend? I personally am not a Chili's fan. What was your last conversation about? Mom and I were just talking about what a mush the cat is, haha. Who is your favorite person to debate or discuss with? Yo fuck debates, I got mad anxiety over that kind of stuff. Are you more likely to praise or insult yourself? Why? Insult. I don't even believe myself when I try praising, so it's not worth the effort. I have a billion and two reasons. Do you enjoy cloudy days? Why or why not? Honestly, not very much anymore. I've found that it actually does affect my mood. I like some cloud coverage, though. Would it bother you to be forgotten after death? Yes, even though when you think about it, most of us will be. I want to do stomething so badly; not even particularly something major, but just contribute to things and causes that matter and slowly change the world for the better. It's especially likely I will be forgotten though at some point because I don't want kids, so my blood isn't carrying on. Do you tend to prefer healthy or unhealthy snacks? Ugh, unhealthy. Has anyone ever asked you for diet advice? I think so, back when I started recovery and lost like 60 lbs fast as fuck. I wasn't even dieting though, just... came off awful meds. What age is your youngest aunt? Ummmm I have no clue. Do you like bowling? Yeah, it's fun, but I'm not good at it. Do you like roasting marshmallows on a bonfire? Totally. Do you prefer sweet or sour fruits? Sweet. How're your dancing skills? Rusted to the point of just not functional anymore lmao. What brand of batteries do you usually get? I don't pay attention to the kind Mom gets. Are any of your friends pregnant or have kids? A lot of my FB friends have kids. At least two are pregnant, but I only consider myself remotely close to one. I'm beyond worried about how she's going to be as a mom. Where's the strangest place a fast food restaurant was located? I've certainly seen some questionable placement in busy areas, but none that are super odd. Do you stay up all night on New Years Eve/Day or go to bed after 12am? I don't care nowadays; I just stay up until I'm tired like every other night.

#survey #surveys #questions #questionnaire #lyrics: ''rest in pieces'' by saliva

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of-wrens-and-whirlwinds-blog · 4 years

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Maybe Stay Home This Time

Commission for the ever-lovely @likearumchocolatesouffle !!! Good Omens this time. I hope you like it, luv! <3 Commission info is here [X]

“Angel, I just want to sleep,” Crowley groaned.

Aziraphale huffed and readjusted the “web camera” Anathema had forced on him last year. It kept trying to fall over. “I know you do, but we have to discuss what to do,” Aziraphale insisted. “How are we going to fix this?”

“There is no way we can fix this ourselves,” Crowley grumped. “Pestilence is out for a spin. Individual demons and angels can’t stop him. We can’t even protect the Isles.”

“Hmph.” Aziraphale gave up fussing and just let the camera fall on its side. “People are dying, though.”

“Yes, that usually happens when Pestilence hits hard.” Crowley rubbed his face with one hand; his other was holding the mobile through which he was communicating. He was apparently sleeping on the ceiling, which meant he was upside down on Aziraphale’s computer screen. “We can probably help with London, but it’s just going to keep coming back in.”

Aziraphale sighed. He’d known it would be a long shot, trying to save the world again, but he really did want to try. He would’ve asked Adam, but the boy was barely twelve; it wasn’t right to ask him if he had any demonic heritage left in him, let alone enough to banish Pestilence. “Fine. So we can’t do much ourselves. What can we do?”

“Follow the rules, I guess,” Crowley replied reluctantly. “Even if we can’t save the world, we can help not spread anything.”

“Oh, very well.” Aziraphale tugged his waistcoat straight irritably. He’s already been cooped up for months; it was beginning to feel like he was losing his strict control. What he wouldn’t give for a walk in the park and a fine dinner after… “I will contact you again tomorrow.”

Crowley groaned.

“Don’t take that tone with me!” Aziraphale snapped. “You can sleep in between. I’m...” lonely, he wanted to say, but he still couldn’t bring himself to. He missed Crowley’s presence. But this was enough, just hearing his voice, seeing him on screen. Aziraphale just needed a bit of grounding.

“Fine,” the demon replied, but not as angrily. He had his knowing-look on, the look that meant he could see through Aziraphale’s bluster. It was very annoying. “When will you call?”

“I don’t know. After noon.”

“Good. I can get plenty of sleep in before then.”

Aziraphale called Crowley at noon on the dot, and rambled to him about his newest books, desperate to speak to someone. Crowley told him all about the rules that had been laid down, which explained several things about Aziraphale’s favorite restaurants being closed, and agreed to another call the next day. He seemed lonely, too. Well, as long as they could speak to each other, they would survive.

It was two days later, when Aziraphale was having a nap of his own, that he had a nightmare.

He couldn’t really tell what was happening, except that Gabriel was laughing and there was the sound of enormous flies buzzing and the smell of brimstone and Crowley screaming—and then Aziraphale woke up, and threw himself upright, shaking and gasping. Without thinking, he grabbed the telephone by his bed and barely managed to dial Crowley. But because he needed and expected to speak to his demon, that’s who was dialed.

The moment Crowley said, “It’s fucking midnight, angel, what—” Aziraphale began to babble over top of him, telling him about his nightmare, about how he was sorry, about how he would never let that happen, about how he would destroy anyone who hurt Crowley. It took a long time for him to get his torrent of words under control, and he wished desperately that he could cry. But angels don’t have tears. So he hiccuped and hugged himself and trailed off, high-strung and still so very upset.

“That won’t happen,” Crowley said firmly. “You don’t have to worry about that happening. You won’t have to do any destroying or smiting or whatever. We’re safe, alright? Haven’t heard a peep from either side. We’re safe.”

Aziraphale squeezed his eyes shut, but his chest was easing and he could breathe again. “Yes. Yes. Alright. We’re safe.”

“That’s right. Go make yourself some tea. We’ll talk more later.”

So Aziraphale did.

Three days later, Crowley called Aziraphale in a panic, and asked him sharp questions—“Anyone suspicious in your area? Have you smelled sulfur anywhere? Your books are safe? Shop not burned down? Are you safe?”—until admitting that, well, he’d had a nightmare too. Aziraphale soothed him as best he could, and promised everything was alright, and Crowley calmed, mostly.

He still called periodically for the next week, just to check. Aziraphale didn’t mind. If it helped Crowley cope, that was all he needed to know.

Some restrictions were, cautiously, lifted. Aziraphale didn’t feel right swanning through the streets though, not even with a mask, so he didn’t go out. Crowley went to the park and fed the ducks, and called Aziraphale to let him know that the park was still flourishing, even without Crowley’s threats. The ducks had almost mobbed him, trying to get at the mixed seeds he had brought; of course, no one feeding them for quite a while, they were hungry. Aziraphale still snickered as Crowley complained.

There was always something to talk about, since there was now nothing to do but read and learn about the world. Aziraphale was outraged at the people who were labeling the plague as “no big deal”; Crowley just reminded him wearily that sometimes, humans didn’t need demons to be evil. Look at Caligula. They would learn.

Except they didn’t learn, so the two beings turned resolutely away from the plague. There were other, just as important things to talk about.

Anathema called Aziraphale to tell him that Newt was sick. Not covid, thank God, just a summer cold, but she was worried. Aziraphale considered, then asked her carefully, “Can you ask him if he would be willing to be on the receiving end of a miracle?”

“You’d do that for him?” Anathema asked eagerly, and Aziraphale smiled, knowing that that was exactly what she’d wanted. “Yes, I’ll go ask him right now!”

A quick miracle, putting together a basket of baked goods and jams and sending that by miracle to them as well, and Anathema called again to say happily that Newt was better already and they were grateful, and also he’d sent them enough jam over the past year, they didn’t need more.

“But jam is useful!” Aziraphale protested.

Anathema chuckled. “Yeah, but we’re just two humans, and we can’t give any of it away to the kids. Relax with the jam. Newt likes digestive biscuits, for some reason.”

“What do you like?” Aziraphale asked, curious.

A startled pause. Then she cleared her throat and said, “I really have no preference. I don’t really like sweet baked goods, anyway.”

“Are you sure?” he pressed, sensing there was more to this moment than just reluctance to accept a gift.

“Yes, I’m sure,” she snapped, then sighed. “Sorry. Just… I don’t know.”

Aziraphale hummed in understanding, and said gently, “Let me know if you find something. In the meantime, it’s almost time for my call with Crowley.”

Anathema laughed for real. “Yes, go call your boyfriend. It’s fine.”

“He is not my boyfriend!”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Fell.”

It was almost August, and Aziraphale was going to explode if he didn’t leave home, so he arranged with Crowley to meet at the park.

It was a lovely day, and many people weren’t wearing masks. Aziraphale thought this rather short-sighted, and kept his on firmly, even though it made his nose itch. He tried to keep his distance, but the pavement was already too small for that.

The park was nearly empty, though, and he settled at the far end of the bench, as far as possible. After only ten minutes, Crowley sauntered down the path and sat at the other end, again slumping as if his spine was a limp noodle. It wasn’t six feet, but surely it was good enough.

“Well?” Crowley asked.

“Well, what?” Aziraphale retorted.

“Is this nice? Do you feel better?”

Sighing, the angel nodded. “I missed fresh air,” he said softly.

“Me, too,” Crowley replied.

They sat in silence, watching the ducks. It was more calming than Aziraphale had expected. Maybe he really did just need to open his windows more.

So that’s what he did. He opened his windows every day for three hours exactly, and “video-called” Crowley every other day on a set schedule, and learned how to close his eyes, listen to music, and just be. It wasn’t saving the world, and it wasn’t eradicating evil; but it was taking care of himself, so he didn’t fret himself into a breakdown, and making sure he did his part. That was important too, right?

#Good Omens #Ineffable spouses #commission #writing #commissions open

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inawickedlittletown · 4 years

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And...They Were Zoommates (one-shot)

Summary: Buck and Eddie work for the same company but have never met until working from home during the covid-19 pandemic has them using zoom video conferences.

Ship: Buck/Eddie

Words: 7,729

Rating: G

Notes: I blame a few people over at the buddie discord for this fic happening.

With the state of the world being what it is, quarantine fic seems inevitable and I wanted to write something fluffy and happy. I will admit that I'm not super pleased with this fic but I'm posting it anyway. Enjoy.

Read on Ao3

The memo went out on a Monday. Everyone was going to be working from home and they had two days to prepare everything and make their work remote. Buck had been waiting for it to happen. It was a matter of time after the schools were shut down followed by the libraries and then curfews were put on bars and nightclubs. And then as the numbers of infected kept rising, most places started trying to figure out how to make their staff work from home.

The whole thing wasn’t going to be ideal, but if it meant that more people weren’t out and about getting exposed to Covid-19, well, Buck figured that it was probably a good thing. Buck had done his research, after all, and he knew that it was more than just a flu and that while the WHO didn’t want to call it a Pandemic yet, they soon would. He also knew that in the states things were going to go bad and fast.

A few days later, Buck had set up a work-station at his apartment. His work laptop was going to remain at his kitchen island so that Buck would feel like he was going somewhere to go to work. He was going to get up at his usual time and maintain his routine partly because he knew it would drive him crazy if he didn’t, but also because a lot of his work was going to require video conferencing and Buck was not going to show up on one of those calls in his PJs.

On day one, he spent about an hour figuring out what the hell Zoom was.

Then, he spent another hour trying to log in because for some reason it just wouldn’t let him.

After that, Buck finally had access to his work and then he dived into what he needed to get done for the day. A bit of time into it, he got an email about the meeting that had gone from in person at the office to a video conference.

Looking at the email thread, he was not the only one having issues with logging into things and figuring out Zoom.

The thing about the quarantine and the work from home order was that it had come at a horrible time for them. It was absolutely necessary and they all understood that, but it was happening just as they were taking on a big project that required the work of many different departments at the office. Buck didn’t think he even knew any of the people he was going to be working with other than his boss. That was the part that made him just a little bit nervous and unsettled. Group projects had always been the bane of his existence back when he was in school and he sort of suspected that this was going to end up being a similar experience.

—

“So, you’re going to be working here, Daddy?”

Eddie was in the middle of setting up his computer and making sure that he had all the right paper files out. Working from home wasn’t going to be ideal, but Eddie was thankful that he could do it. He couldn’t imagine how else he would have been able to handle things with Christopher out of school and on top of that knowing that his abuela was one of those at risk people so the last thing Eddie wanted was to have to saddle her with watching Christopher.

“I am, kid. So while you’re doing school, I’ll be doing work. And then we can have lunch together.”

“This is very silly, Daddy.”

Eddie chuckled. “It is, isn’t it? But, remember I told you, it’s so that everyone can be safe and so that people don’t get sick.”

“I know,” Christopher said.

Eddie ruffled his hair and then nudged him to go back to where he’d been working on what looked to be a math packet. While Christopher went to do that, Eddie got himself set up, but he went to check on Chris a moment later and it was always just to impressive how smart his son was.

When he got an email about the video conference, he left Christopher to his math and went back to the laptop. Logging in was a task and a half and Eddie emailed his frustrations to the others until he finally got the thing to work and at least it didn’t seem like he was the only one struggling.

By the time that they had all made it onto the conference call, they were starting the meeting late by about forty five minutes. In that time, Christopher had at least managed to keep himself working and not get too distracted, but Eddie was just waiting for it to happen. It was why he’d left out some apple slices for him as a snack that might keep him from bothering Eddie.

“Hello, everyone,” Bobby said. “I know this is going to be unconventional and probably make some of us want to tear our hair out, but we’re going to pull this off. It just requires that we all try our hardest to communicate with each other.”

Eddie wasn’t new to the job, but his job was pretty isolated. So while he knew Bobby because he was their boss, he didn’t know anyone else on the call. He knew Howie — Chim — by reputation alone because he was Bobby’s right hand man but he didn’t know Henrietta or Evan. Henrietta liked to be called Hen and she was the most relaxed of all of them, looking like she was just chilling out on her sofa. Bobby looked to be in a home office type space and he’d gone through the trouble of putting on a collared shirt and tie. Chim was in an AC/DC t-shirt and out on a balcony of all places. Evan — who apparently went by Buck for some reason — was missing the tie to his button up, but the look was good on him. Just a bit put together. It was Buck that Eddie would be working closest with. He seemed friendly and nice enough but also very very attractive.

—

Buck didn’t think he’d ever written or replied to so many emails in his life as he did in the first three days of working from home.

The whole thing had been confusing for Sebastian, his dog, who didn’t seem to really understand why Buck was waking up and doing the whole shower, coffee, spending ten minutes staring into the abyss of his fridge every morning before taking him out on a walk, returning to the apartment and then not leaving. After the third day, Sebastian seemed to get over it.

By day four, Buck was sort of getting sick of going to work in the kitchen. So, he moved to the living room which worked for about a half hour before Sebastian decided it was a good time to try and get a belly rub which led to no work. He did eventually get some done later when he went back into the kitchen for a Zoom conference with Bobby.

Taking Sebastian out on walks was basically the only time that Buck was going out. and it was weird how the usually busy streets were empty. He’d been smart about getting enough food to last him a few weeks back before the working from home thing started and Buck was reluctant to go out to any grocery store when he heard all the horror stories about how packed those places were. But since Buck wanted to keep Sebastian on his usual schedule, it meant that he really only went outside three times a day and not for very long at all.

It wasn’t like Buck even had any real down time when he had to be in meetings or responding to emails or just doing his own solo work. The person that he was mostly emailed was someone he’d never met or worked with before. Eddie Diaz. The first time he’d even laid eyes on the guy was in the initial video conference.

On the morning of day five, it was an email from Eddie that woke Buke.

Hey,

Let me know when you have time and we can get on Zoom. I figure we can go over everything we’ve done so far.

-Eddie Diaz

Buck went through his morning routine which included push ups and sit ups and a bit of stretching before he got in the shower, got dressed and went down for breakfast but more importantly coffee. Sebastian ate when Buck served him some kibble and then they went out for their morning walk. Buck emailed Eddie back as soon as he’d made it back into the apartment.

They settled for a Zoom conference in an hour and Buck started preparing everything he’d worked on to share with Eddie. Their collaboration was pretty much imperative for the whole project to work.

Seeing someone through a computer — especially a stranger someone — was odd. He’d seen Eddie before at this point, but they hadn’t had a one on one video call.

“Hi,” Eddie said. “How are you?”

“Uh, good. You? How’s this whole quarantine working out for you?”

Eddie shrugged his shoulders. “It is what it is. Anyway, so I figure we both have to be on the same page.”

“Yes. Definitely.”

It was a little awkward until they started talking about the project and then everything just fell into professionalism. Still, Buck had eyes and he could tell even through the screen that Eddie was attractive. He smiled with all his teeth and his eyes were warm and expressive and Buck could tell that Eddie was as passionate as Buck was about the project.

“So, we touch in every day?” Buck asked.

“Yes. Video probably works best. Text always leads to misunderstandings.”

“You’re right about that.”

Sebastian chose that moment to bark and when Buck looked at the clock, he was about due for a walk. Before the work from home thing happened, Buck had a dog walker that stopped by every day to take Sebastian out.

“Oh, is that your dog?” Eddie asked.

“Yup. Letting me know it’s time for his walk,” Buck said with a roll of his eyes.

Eddie chuckled. “I’m sure he’s happy to have you at home.”

“Probably. Or maybe he’s missing the dog walker.”

Eddie laughed again and when he laughed he looked stupid pretty. “I’ll let you get to your dog, then, Buck. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. See you tomorrow.”

—-

On day six of quarantine, Eddie had to leave the house. He’d been so busy in the days leading up to the work from home order that he hadn’t had much time to actually stock up on much of anything. Usually that was fine because Eddie wasn’t much of a cook and he relied on whatever his abuela cooked and then pushed Eddie to take home with him. Then there was also Carla who took care of Christopher and not only did the shopping but then the cooking too. Eddie just tended to rely on ordering in, but doing that every day was both bad for his wallet and probably not good for him or his kid.

The only annoying part about all of it was that he was going to have to take Christopher out. Eddie would have preferred otherwise, but he didn’t want to bother his abuela or Carla. It was just a matter of being very careful. But before they could go out, Eddie needed to do his daily call with Buck.

“Okay, buddie, I want you to get working on your reading, okay? I have to do work for a bit but then we’re going shopping.”

He set up the computer and went and grabbed himself a glass of water before he initiated the call. He almost laughed when Buck picked up.

So far, Buck had always been dressed as if he were actually going to the office. Polos and button ups and nice sweaters, but on this day he’d apparently given up on that because he was in a dark tank top and his hair had gained a bit of curl to it.

“Hi,” Buck said. “Sorry I look a mess.”

“You look fine,” Eddie said. “I usually look a mess, so it’s a nice change.”

“Funny,” Buck said.

Eddie just shook his head at him. “No, it’s fine. You look fine.”

Better than fine, probably, since Buck was just effortlessly attractive and there was something about the dishevelled look that really did it for Eddie.

They got to business talk, answering questions and suggesting things for the next phase of the project. They were actually both doing well with their deadlines. Of course with the whole Covid-19 thing getting worse and worse, no one knew if rollout would go on as planned.

“And what else are up to today?” Buck asked once the business talk was over.

“I have to go grocery shopping,” Eddie said. “Kinda a hassle because I have a son.”

“Wait, you have a kid?” Buck said, he practically shouted it and his eyes widened. “Sorry. I just...I really love kids.”

Eddie chuckled. “Yeah, he’s eight. His mom’s not in the picture, so it’s just the two of us.”

“And you’re going to take him out?” Buck asked, frowning. “You know how crazy the stores are right now, right?”

“Kinda unavoidable. Can’t leave him home alone and I don’t have anyone to watch him and we need to get a few things.”

“For your sake, I hope you’re not hoping to find toilet paper,” Buck said.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “No. Small mercies. I bought some before all this madness. Just after food, really.”

“So get it delivered. There’s apps for that now.”

Eddie hadn’t even considered that possibility but Buck was right. “You know, I think you just made my day a lot easier.”

“Good. I’m glad. Anything to help you, man.”

“Thanks,” Eddie said. “And what are you up to?”

The thing about talking to Buck was that it gave him a connection to the outside world. Sure Eddie called abuela and his tia every day to check in with them and see how they were doing or if they needed anything but that felt different than talking to Buck. Even talking to his parents who were in a whole other state or his sisters — when they felt like answering the phone — was less stimulating. Maybe it was because they were family and Buck wasn’t.

“I am hanging out with Sebastian for the day and catching up on some Netflix. Might bake something. I’ve been having the worst sweet tooth but unless I eat straight sugar, I don’t have anything sweet in this house.”

“Sebastian is...”

“My dog,” Buck said with a grin. “I know, human name. No one gets it but my favorite Disney movie is—”

“The Little Mermaid,” Eddie finished for him.

“Exactly.”

Eddie shook his head at Buck. “Okay, I’m going to figure out this grocery delivery thing.”

“It might not be same day,” Buck said. “Maybe it depends.”

“I have enough food to get by for at least a few more days. But better to get this out of the way.”

“Yup,” Buck said.

“And what about you? Did you go out and stock up before all of this?”

Buck rubbed at his neck in what was clearly a nervous habit. “I bought a lot of stuff,” he said. “But I figured it was best to with all that’s going on. Really, it’s our responsibility to stay home right now. And it doesn’t look like this will be over any time soon.”

“It doesn’t,” Eddie said. He kind of hated admitting that because it meant that things wouldn’t get back to normal faster.

Eddie just wasn’t too big a fan of spending a lot of time in doors. That just wasn’t who he was. And Christopher had already been asking about going to the park. Eddie had taken him outside into the yard for a while every day but he could tell that Christopher was getting bored of that and bored of not being able to see his friends.

“Okay, I’ll go figure that out now. I’ll email you if I have any questions.”

Buck rolled his eyes. “Just video chat me. I’m kind of liking this a lot more than I expected.”

It took Eddie about twenty minutes before he called Buck to ask for help.

—-

On days seven and eight, Buck binged an entire show on Netflix. He got no work done, but he did manage to talk to Eddie for a part of his day. It was practically becoming routine. Sebastian had even decided to make an appearance and Eddie couldn’t praise Sebastian enough.

“He’s gorgeous,” Eddie said.

Sebastian was a cocker spaniel mixed with golden retriever. It was easy to see the different breeds in him and in Buck’s opinion it only made him cuter and it helped that when Buck adopted him, he was already well trained that he didn’t have to put too much effort into getting him to listen.

On day ten, Eddie video called him for a second time late at night while Buck was in the middle of making dinner. He was in the middle of mashing potatoes but he still grabbed his laptop and set it up somewhere that the camera could see him.

“Hey,” Buck said. “Anything going on?”

“Not with work,” Eddie said. “Just — okay, so I’m a horrible cook and the internet isn’t exactly helping.”

“What is it?” Buck asked.

“What does fold mean? Oh...I’m making chocolate mousse.” He panned the camera to where he’d already whipped some cream.

“That’s ambitious,” Buck said with a grin. “And folding just means that you mix it very gently.”

He gave Eddie instructions as he did it and it was definitely an experience to help someone cook — well, mix — something while not being present.

“Thank you so much, Buck. I had no idea who else to ask.”

“Really. I was your best option?”

Eddie shrugged. “My abuela has never made mousse in her life. She makes Mexican things so. And my sisters would never let me live this down.”

“Ah. So I’m the least embarrassing option.”

“I suppose.”

At that moment a kid ran right into the shot. He was small with curly blond-ish hair, and glasses.

“Daddy, is it ready?” the boy asked.

Eddie’s son was adorable. He was also disabled but it was very clear that it wasn’t something that defined him. And the way that Eddie looked at his son, it warmed Buck’s heart. There was just so much love between them that it was palpable.

“Almost, Christopher. How about you go wash your hands?”

“Okay.”

He left again and Buck could hear — now that he knew — the way that his crutches clinked on the floor.

“That’s Christopher,” Buck said.

“Oh. Yes. That’s my son.”

“He’s adorable, Eddie. Like I said, I love kids.”

Eddie smiled wide, his teeth showing. “Yeah...well that one is my world.”

“And you said the mother isn’t in the picture?” Buck asked.

Eddie shook his head. “No. She’s not. We’re divorced actually, but I have no clue where she is now. I don’t think I would even let her see him if she came looking. Not when she’ll just leave him again. I, um, I have primary custody and she didn’t even try to fight me on it.”

“That sucks, man. Poor kid.”

Eddie gave a nod. “He still talks about her sometimes but I think he understands she isn’t coming back.”

It had to be hard raising a disabled child with an absentee mother. It made Buck admire Eddie even more.

Eddie kept him on the call even when his son came back and he’d placed a couple of spoons of the chocolate mousse on a small bowl.

“And what are you cooking over there, Buck?”

“Mashed potatoes,” Buck said, “to go with my chicken breast. And maybe I’ll make a salad too.”

“So you’re eating a healthy meal and I’m over here hoping my kid doesn’t start jumping off the walls after all that sugar.”

“I hope that’s not all you’re having for dinner,” Buck said.

“No. We had sandwiches earlier. That’s really the extent of my cooking. And he knows it too. Doesn’t expect much.”

They stayed up talking that night while Buck got his dinner together and even as Buck started to eat. For Buck it practically feelt natural to have Eddie there on his computer. He didn’t care that he was wearing a stained t-shirt and that he hadn’t bothered with his hair all day and that Eddie was going to watch him as he ate.

They talked about the virus because it wasn’t a topic anyone could easily escape, and then Buck told Eddie that his sister was actually a nurse.

“She’s right in the thick of this. I’m so worried she’ll catch it but she just says it’s the hazard of the job. And it’s not like I could even stop by her place to see her now. I just worry.”

“Well tell her I admire her a lot for working through this time.”

“Thanks,” Buck said. “I’ll pass that along.”

Eventually the conversation topic switched to something else until Buck’s plate was completely clean and yet he and Eddie just kept talking. Eddie told him about his family in Texas and then about his abuela and tia.

“It’s my cousins that are really taking care of them,” Eddie said. “They get it. I have Christopher and everything. But I just hope they’re both okay after all of this since it seems like it’s harder on anyone that’s older.”

“I’m sure they will be,” Buck said. “It’s all about staying home.”

“Yeah.” Eddie said. “Abuela gets stir crazy. So do I, to be honest.”

—-

Day eleven was a bit of a hard day. He and Eddie didn’t talk at all but Maddie called him in tears because one of her patients died. He spent over an hour on the phone with her talking about it. The virus really wasn’t something to take lightly. After being reprimanded to stay home — even though he already was — Maddie let him go.

On day twelve they had a big conference call with everyone working on the project. Bobby wanted information from everyone and it was lucky that he and Eddie shared everything with each other because when Eddie didn’t appear on the call, Buck was able to show them everything from his end. He tried not to display how worried he was, but he did send an email Eddie’s way. There was no response.

Not hearing from Eddie made him antsy. It made him want to leave his apartment and go over to Eddie’s to make sure that he was okay. Buck with everything going on, Buck knew that he couldn’t be rash like that.

It was on day fourteen that first thing in the morning, Eddie video called.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Buck asked before Eddie could even say hello.

“I’m fine. I should have emailed you, I guess. Things got a little out of hand. My cousin has the virus so I’ve been basically stuck on the phone because my tia Pepa was in contact with her and so abuela is freaking out. Pepa doesn’t seem to be showing any symptoms but she’s getting tested today and of course all the other family wanted to make sure I hadn’t been exposed or Christopher. So I’ve been a bit busy. But you were worried?”

Buck knew he was blushing. “I may have worried a little.”

“Or a lot,” Eddie said with a smile. “It’s cute.”

“Well, we’re in quarantine, what else was I supposed to do?”

Eddie just shrugged, but his smile was pleased and Buck was starting to figure out that he maybe didn’t have any friends like Eddie. That maybe Eddie was more than a friend or someone that could be more than a friend.

“How’s your sister doing?”

“She’s still working and still holding on. I don’t know how she can be this strong.”

Eddie nodded along. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? How strong someone can be — how amazing it is to be witness of that? Christopher is probably the strongest person I know.”

“I can imagine,” Buck said. “What, um, what is—”

“He has CP,” Eddie said. “But that hasn’t stopped him from doing anything he wants to do.”

The way that Eddie smiled when he talked about Christopher was almost enough to have Buck smitten. The thing was that he’d never connected with anyone the way that he connected to Eddie. Buck hoped that when it was all over, he wouldn’t lose the friendship or any of what he was hoping was building between them.

—-

By the time that it had been twenty one days on quarantine — a whole three weeks — Eddie was just about ready to tear his hair off. His growing hair because due to everything but essential businesses remaining open the likelihood of finding a hair salon was low. Eddie didn’t really mind that his hair got longer, it just meant that there were more steps to taking care of it. And even though all he really did these days was watch movies with his son, Eddie still felt like he needed to look good. None of it had anything to do with how he and Buck were still video chatting every day and the length of those calls kept growing and growing.

Work had pretty much come to a stand still. The project was nearly finished but without a rollout date there wasn’t much for them to do. It meant that things were getting boring.

He and Christopher had done as much as possible to not get bored. They went outside for an hour most days even if it was just to sit out in the sun. It just felt nice to get outside sometimes.

Other days they watched movies or shows or Christopher did some drawing and played with his toys. Buck was also there for most things through the screen of his computer or phone. Buck made things a bit more bearable even if Eddie could tell that he was also stir crazy. The only time that Buck went out was to walk Sebastian, but on a few occasions even while out on a walk he would call Eddie and Eddie would get a glimpse of the nearly empty streets.

“I wish I could be out there with you,” Eddie said on a sunny day. Day twenty three of quarantine.

Buck was on a walk with Sebastian and it was eerie how everything looked just a tad too empty.

“When this is all over we can go on the longest walk,” Buck said. “We can visit every ice cream shop and any taqueria. We can do anything you want.”

“Eager to meet me in person, Buck?”

“Maybe a little,” Buck said and he was just so completely honest.

Eddie would be lying if he didn’t feel something for Buck. There was the friendship they’d formed and the fondness but there was more too. Maybe it was because they were so open with each other and maybe a bit vulnerable, but it was also that Buck was sweet and wonderful and that he genuinely seemed interested in Christopher.

Eddie would forever remember what happened on what must have been day seventeen or maybe it was sixteen — the days were really blurring together — when Christopher had gotten curious about why Eddie was laughing.

“I’m just talking to a friend. A coworker.”

“A friend?” Christopher asked.

“Yeah. Hey, Buck, you want to meet Christopher?”

“Of course.”

Eddie knew that Buck said that he liked kids, but he didn’t expect the patience or the interest that Buck bestowed on Christopher. He didn’t seem to mind listening to Christopher talk about homeschooling or even a silly story about the bunny they’d spotted out in the yard a few days earlier.

Buck was just wonderful. He asked about Christopher every single call and if Christopher wasn’t busy with schoolwork then sometimes Buck would just talk to Christopher. Buck was just kind of perfect.

“Are you for real, you want to meet up once we can leave our houses?” Eddie asked.

Buck chuckled and he ducked his head. His cheeks were noticeably pink even through the phone and Eddie really really liked him. He was adorable.

“Yes, Eddie. Or should I say, Edmundo.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I told you that with so much confidence and if you keep bringing it up I’m just going to start calling you Evan.”

“Fine. But, yeah, Eddie. I think you’re one of my closest friends.”

“That’s just quarantine talk,” Eddie said.

Even though for him, it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. The way that he felt about Buck...the way that he felt happy whenever he saw Buck was calling, it made Eddie so absolutely sure that it was more than friendship because they were relying on each other for outside contact.

“It’s not,” Buck said in all seriousness. “I like you, Eddie. And I think if we had met in any other way I would have liked you then too.”

Talking about his feelings had never been easy for Eddie. What Shannon did to him and Christopher had maybe made that so much worse.

So it was hard to say it, but Eddie felt like he would burst if he didn’t. “I like you too.”

“Is that a blush?” Buck asked with a goofy grin that told Eddie that Buck was pleased.

“I’m going to go now. I’ll talk to you later,” Eddie said because he didn’t know if he could keep talking to Buck without being a mess.

—-

He felt like he could fly, like the butterflies in his stomach from the first moment that he told Eddie he liked him, were ready to just lift him right off the ground.

And Eddie saying that he liked him too, it nearly killed him to hear it and Buck just wanted for Eddie to be sure that Buck did mean it.

So with very little to do for work and boredom creeping into almost everything he did, Buck started to plan. There was a way to use Zoom for screen sharing and Buck had helped Eddie with his grocery order so he knew where Eddie lived. He also knew that Eddie and Christopher were both fans of chocolate.

So Buck called up a local bakery and ordered cupcakes to be delivered to Eddie that night. The girl on the phone seemed entirely pleased with getting the order at all and it made Buck wonder how much business they were actually having. It made him order some cupcakes for himself as well.

Then he browsed through Netflix for something that Eddie would enjoy but that Christopher could watch too. He found a few different choices and figured he’d just offer Eddie a choice and then he went and got ready. Cleaning himself up a bit and even shaving the growing beard on his face. Then he put on one of his favorite shirts and went down and got his laptop and settled himself on his couch. He got up only when his cupcakes arrived, being just dropped off at his door which meant that Eddie would get his soon too. Buck was going to wait for Eddie to just call him after it arrived.

The call came just ten minutes later. It was Eddie and Christopher. Christopher had clearly already eaten a cupcake because there was frosting on his nose.

“You got them?” Buck asked.

“Yeah. Buck, I — you’re incredible. You know?”

Buck smiled at them. “And just wait, I have a whole night planned for us. A quarantine date, if you will.”

“Daddy, what’s that?”

“What?” Eddie asked.

“What Buck just said.”

Watching Eddie with Christopher and the way that he was such a good dad, it did things to Buck. Buck had always loved kids. He didn’t get a lot of opportunity to be around kids, but he’d always wanted to be a dad. Someday. Maddie often said that it was mostly because he was such a kid that he got along so well with most children. And Buck could tell that Eddie was a good dad. It somehow made him even more attractive.

—-

When the doorbell rang, Eddie had almost expected it to be one of his cousins or maybe his tia. Instead, he opened it and found a cardboard box from a bakery and atop it an envelope with a note. Eddie took it all into the kitchen, gave the outside of the box a wipe with some lyrol surface wipes and then opened the envelope and pulled out a small card.

Eddie,

I figure why wait for our first date? I’m sending you something sweet for you and Christopher and I’m setting up a movie date for the three of us.

Call me when you get this, I’ll be waiting.

-Buck

Eddie had never experienced someone like Buck before. Eddie just hadn’t expected for Buck to make a gesture like this and it was just unattached to any expectations and Buck just included Christopher like it was the natural thing to do.

“Daddy, what is it?” Christopher asked.

“My friend. You remember from the computer?”

“Buck!” Christopher yelled out.

“Yes, that one. He sent us a present.”

Chistopher made a noise in excitement and Eddie chuckled before he opened the box. There were twelve cupcakes inside, each expertly frosted and they were clearly themed. Eddie shook his head and tried not to laugh when he looked at them. There were four rows and each of the rows were decorated differently. The first one was blue frosting with a single roll of toilet paper sitting at the top. The next one had a spray bottle. The one after that had a face mask. The last had hearts.

“Can I have one, Daddy? Please?”

Eddie gave in and let Christopher pick out his treat. Then he went and grabbed his laptop to call Buck.

“You got them?” Buck asked the moment he appeared on the screen.

“Yeah. Buck, I — you’re incredible. You know?”

Buck smiled at them. He looked good. The scruff that had been growing on his jaw was gone but his hair was still a bit on the curlier side and Buck had explained that it was because it was getting long. Eddie loved it.

“And just wait, I have a whole night planned for us. A quarantine date, if you will,” Buck said, his smile was so wide and Eddie wished that they were in the same place because if they were he might have kissed him.

“Daddy what’s that?” Christopher asked. He was right in the view of the camera and his face was a little messy from the cupcake he was eating.

“What?” Eddie asked.

“What Buck just said.”

“It means that since we can’t leave the house we’re going to stay here and he’s going to stay at his apartment but we’re going to hang out. How does that sound, kiddo?”

“Fun,” Christopher said.

Eddie looked back at the screen. “So, what does this date entail?”

Buck smiled at him. “Okay, so I did a bit of research and I was going to try to use Netflix Party for this but then we’d lose the video chat aspect. But we can do screen sharing with Zoom so how about a movie date?”

“Sounds perfect, Buck.”

Buck grinned. “Awesome.”

It was perfect in a weirdly unconventional way. Buck had picked out movies that were Christopher friendly and with Christopher right there, they had a quick choice. Hook. Buck admitted that he’d never actually seen it before.

“We weren’t big on movies growing up,” Buck admitted.

“That’s kinda sad, Buck,” Eddie said. “Have you been catching up on everything you missed while you’re stuck at home?”

Buck rolled his eyes. “Sort of.”

Christopher had never seen Hook either and he was excited when Buck got everything set up on his end. Watching a movie with another person that wasn’t in the room with him was different and yet watching Buck’s reactions to the movie on the screen and the way that they almost matched Christophers was endearing. Eddie really really liked Buck.

—-

Quarantine kept going. No one knew when it was going to end. By day thirty three, Buck was really getting sick of it. He took Sebastian out on longer and longer walks and he spent as much time as he could out on his balcony, overlooking the empty streets and the very few people taking walks outside. He and Eddie still used Zoom as the primary form of contact, but they’d exchanged numbers too so that they texted constantly, sending memes back and forth because that was one of the few good things to come out of the whole mess.

Eddie made it all a bit better, even though Buck couldn’t actually be with him. But the prospect of finally getting to see him in person kept Buck going. Almost every day one of them mentioned all the numerous things that they wanted to do once they were allowed out again.

“I want to go to a museum,” Buck said. “Art or history — it doesn’t even matter. I just want to go. And you’re welcome to come with me.”

“I want to go to a restaurant and actually be able to eat there,” Eddie said.

“Amusement park,” Buck added. “A concert.”

“The mall. I hate shopping, but I’d love to be able to go to the mall.”

“I’d even love to go back into the office. Or...maybe just anywhere with you.”

Eddie always had a pleased look when Buck mentioned the two of them getting together. They didn’t talk about it often, but they had Zoom dates every other day watching movies or eating together often with Christopher butting in not that Buck minded that in the least. It was late at night when Christopher was in bed that Buck and Eddie had time alone and in the cover of darkness things were different. That was when things got deep.

It was late at night that Eddie told Buck about Christopher’s mother, Shannon and the turbulent relationship. It was also when Buck told Eddie about Abby and how she left him. They shared stories about growing up and about how they each figured out their attraction to men and women. They talked about Christopher’s CP. They talked about how Buck didn’t actually love his job but that it was something he’d fallen into. Eddie told Buck about his time in the Army.

Other nights it was different. Less morose.

They talked about them. About how strange it was to fall for someone over Zoom of all things and yet how their connection was real. The attraction was real. And they both absolutely longed for the day when they could be in person together.

“I’m going to kiss you so hard, Edmundo Diaz,” Buck said one night after yet another movie night. Christopher was in bed and Buck had walked up to his own bed as well. “You won’t know it’s coming.”

“Well, you’ve just given me warning so now I’m expecting it, Evan,”

“As long as you’ll kiss me back,” Buck said.

“Of course I’ll kiss you back. I’ll always kiss you back.”

—-

Day forty hit Eddie hard when he realized that it had been forty days since he stepped outside his house. Christopher was so adaptable that he was fine with the way things were. And truth be told, Eddie had gotten used to working from home. He’d also gotten really used to having Buck on a screen for most of the day or just a text away. Buck texted him good morning every morning when he woke up and Eddie would call him on Zoom and take him along as he and Christopher did their morning routine.

Buck even taught Eddie how to make pancakes one morning when he was in the middle of eating some and Christopher wanted some too. Eddie usually relied on mixes that just needed water, but Buck instructed him and Christopher until the finished result was fluffy discs that he and Christopher ate ravenously. It made Eddie wish he could have Buck in person.

The longer the quarantine went, the more that Eddie longed to see Buck off a computer screen. If it wasn’t for Christopher and his CP, Eddie would have already gone and asked Buck to come over or gone to join him at his apartment. But even though Buck had been stuck inside his home and clearly wasn’t sick, Eddie wasn’t stupid enough to risk it.

So instead he and Buck daydreamed of the day they would finally get their in person date.

“You know,” Buck said on day forty three, “we’ve been on so many virtual dates already that we should be way past third base.”

Eddie laughed at that. “Oh, Buck.”

“Listen,” Buck said in a quieter tone, “you don’t make it easy looking like you do.”

“And somehow I’m just fine even though you look like that,” Eddie said.

Buck just pouted at him. It made him look cute more than anything. Eddie pushed his hair back. It had grown quite a bit since he hadn’t been able to go out and get a haircut but Buck seemed to like the length. It made Eddie consider keeping it.

Some days they just threw out date ideas at each other. Buck told him he would take Eddie out on a hot air balloon and they could have a picnic up in the clouds. Eddie wanted to take him rock climbing. Buck wanted to go to the zoo but mostly because Christopher wanted to. Eddie wanted the two of them to go hiking. Buck wanted to take Eddie to the beach to hang out at the pier but also out on the sand so they could build sand castles together. Eddie mentioned being good at bowling and Buck wanted to beat him at it. Buck also wanted to beat him at pool. Mostly, though, the two of them wanted to do anything as long as they could do it together.

But their work from home was being extended as was the stay at home order. Things were bad and Eddie couldn’t really handle watching the news anymore because it was always more and more depressing.

He could tell that it was getting to Buck some days more than others.

“I just — I hate this, you know, the staying inside and the lack of seeing anyone but then you hear all these things about the number of cases and it’s horrible. And my sister is right in the thick of it and she’s okay but I worry about her. She called me last night and she was just crying the entire time. And it’s just horrible. And then you have all these idiots not taking it seriously even forty something days into this quarantine and I don’t get it.”

“I don’t get it either, Buck. I really don’t.”

—-

Buck stopped counting the days after day forty five because counting made him feel more like a prisoner in his own home more than anything else. So when the stay at home order was finally lifted after what felt like a couple of year length months, it was Eddie that told him they had been in quarantine for nearly seventy days.

“That’s impossible,” Buck said.

“My hair says otherwise,” Eddie said.

At some point, Buck remembered Eddie trying to figure out how to cut his own hair and it had been a combination of Christopher thinking it was a bad idea and Buck repeatedly telling Eddie that he didn’t mind the longer hair that stopped him from doing it.

“It’s still going to be a while before life goes back to normal,” Buck said.

Eddie shrugged his shoulders. “But there’s an end in sight now.”

They were still going to keep working from home but the prospect of getting back to the office made things better. It also meant that they all needed to get back on track which began with another Zoom conference with Bobby and all the others.

Buck looked professional again which made Eddie laugh a little.

“What’s so funny, Diaz?” Buck asked.

Everyone was paying attention to him and he could feel himself blushing. “Nothing. Nothing. Let’s get the meeting started.”

It was after the meeting that Buck called him. He was in a t-shirt and looking a lot more relaxed which made Eddie burst out into laughter.

“You changed,” Eddie said.

“Yeah. So?”

“It’s just cute you dressed up for the meeting,” Eddie said. “You’re just adorable, Buck.”

“I’m—”

“I like it,” Eddie said and then after taking a deep breath. “So, when can I see you?”

“Now?” Buck asked.

—-

The first time that Buck saw Eddie in person he felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest. He didn’t know why he was so nervous after all the time they’d spent talking and after everything they’d shared with each other but when Eddie noticed him and smiled Buck took a breath and stepped forward.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” Eddie said back.

“It’s nice to not see you on a screen for once,” Buck said.

“Yeah. I think I prefer this.”

“Me too.”

It was different and a little bit awkward but it was him and Eddie and when Buck offered his hand to him, Eddie took it and laced their fingers and Buck knew with some certainty that things would work out. They may have met over Zoom video conference but it didn’t in any way make what they felt less real or less important.

“So,” Eddie said.

“So,” Buck said and they both laughed until Buck moved closer. He could smell Eddie’s aftershave and their hands were still linked which grounded him as he leaned into Eddie’s space and kissed him. Eddie pulled him closer, gasping against his lips and deepening the kiss.

“Told you I was going to kiss you,” Buck said.

---

Notes: Thank you to anyone that read this. Considering the current situation across the world I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy.

Find my other Buddie fics here

#911 fox #buddie #buddie fic #911 fic #buck x eddie #fic #my fic #one-shot

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sauntered-vaguely-downward · 4 years

Text

A Place to Stay, Part 8. Geralt x Reader

So I’ve finally finished. I just wanna say thank you for being patient. To anyone who has been affected by covid-19, or lost loved ones like myself, just know you are not alone, and if you need someone to talk to, I am here for you.

The Storm was still raging on violently as they made their way to the stable. A particularly strong gust of wind had nearly knocked Y/N onto her arse, but Geralt caught her, holding her close to him as they pushed towards the door.

The door, which had seemed so heavy when Y/N had tried to open it flew open with ease when Gerlat pulled on its handle. Both Roach and Y/N’s horse seemed pleased to see the people before them, but more pleased at the food in the buckets they carried.

“That storm is showing no signs of getting any easier,” Y/N said quietly, taking one of the buckets to her horse.

“No,” Geralt hummed, tending to roach. He couldn’t say he was particularly disappointed in the storm's continuation. He had no desire to leave Y/N just yet.

He watched as she cared for her horse, soothing its worried groans as the storm continued to scream ahead. She was so gentle, so sweet as she spoke to it, brushing his head as she went. Geralt's heart felt as though it was swelling, and he didn’t know why. Everything about this woman made him feel whole, as though he had found where it was he was meant to be. He would give anything to have her at his side, whether that was in her small cottage, or even on his travels with him. As selfish as it sounded, Geralt wished that the storm would never end, so that she could remain near him for as long as possible.

“Are you okay?” She smiled, walking up to him. “You seemed a little bit away with the fairies just then,” she giggled, her hand reaching out and touching his arm, sending his heartbeat higher than was normal for even a witcher.

“Hmm, sorry I was just thinking,” he looked down at her, seeing the care in her eyes as she looked back at him. Not one single soul had looked at him in such a way before. “You truly are a beautiful woman Y/N, you know that?”

“That’s very kind of you Geralt,” she smiled, a blush dusting her cheeks making Geralt's heart sing. “Not so bad yourself,” she said softly. She wished she could say more, but was scared that if she did Geralt would discover that she was feeling some sort of way towards him. Changing the subject he smiled, ”We should be going back inside. You should rest, if the storm lifts tomorrow I’m sure you’ll be wanting to hit the road again.”

Geralt only nodded, a hint of disappointment rushing through him at the thought of leaving her, but she was right, he needed the coin, as much as he wanted to stay, he had to leave eventually.

With a sigh he held out his arm for her, allowing her to hold on as they made their way into her cosy house once more, to spend another evening reading and talking.

Geralt had stayed for another two nights before he left, the storm still lingering in the air as he made his leave. Each night had been much the same as the night before, they sat, oh so close together, her reading to him, eventually falling asleep beside him. He didn’t fight when she clung to him, taking her straight to her bed and allowing her to curl up beside him. Nothing more became of it, it was as innocent as could be, and yet, both longed for it to be more.

When the day came he made his leave both were unhappy, but both knew that it had to be done. She had waved him off with a bag full of food and a peck on the cheek, promising him a place to stay if ever he needed it, and he had promised he would return, saying only so he could continue the story they had been reading.

Y/N watched as he disappeared into the forest, her heart feeling as though it had been pulled through her chest and stamped upon. She shouldn’t have got attached, she had no reason to be, after all, he was a witcher, there was no chance he felt the same.

A few days had passed since Geralt had left Y/N, and each day he was away from her he felt as though the brightness of the world faded just a little. He had opted to stay in the town south of Y/N’s home, looking out to find any jobs. When his luck came up dry he went to the tavern, too concerned with the ache in his chest to care about the looks or insults thrown at him from the people inside.

Finding a snug table hidden away at the back of the tavern, he ordered an ale, and sat, staring into it, her image on his mind as he watched the dark liquid in the glass. Why was he feeling such a way for her? She was only a stranger, and yet she seemed to have ahold of his heart. He sat for hours, simply staring into the drink before him, just thinking, the images of her running wild in his mind.

“Oh ho! Look who it is!” Geralt would usually have grunted at the joyful tone that was approaching him, but he felt too lost to even bother. “Geralt! My old mate! Best friend there ever was! How are you?”

Geralt looked up to see Jaskier sliding into the chair across from his.

“Jaskier.”

“Where on earth have you been? I haven’t seen you in far too long. Was starting to worry about you,” Jaskier kept chatting away, accounting all the tales he had to tell Geralt, of new songs he had created, of women he had bed and of the husbands he had had to run from. Jaskier began to quiet as he realised Geralt had not looked up from his ale once, nor had he taken a sip since he had sat down. What really make Jaskier curious was how Geralt had yet to tell him to fuck off or shut up. “Somethings wrong, what happened?”

“I’m fine,” Geralt said in a voice that could perhaps even be considered soft.

“Clearly not,” Jaskier said, trying to not let the worry seep into his voice. Geralt looked down, he looked broken, he looked how Jaskier looked when another muse had left him… wait. “Is this about a woman?”

Geralt’s deafening silence followed but a quite hum was all the answer Jaskier needed.

“Geralt! Who is she? And what has she done that is making you look so blue,” Jaskier was careful to pry, knowing Geralt, if he wished, could throw him through the wall of the tavern.

“It’s not important Jaskier.”

“Well clearly it is. I’ve known you for a while and I’ve never seen you look so glum, and never seen you even care about a woman. She must of done something pretty horrific if she’s had this much affect on you.”

“She did not. She was the kindest woman I had ever had the pleasure of meeting.”

“Oh,” Jaskier was taken aback but Geralt, but could see the genuine pain in his chest as he spoke of her. “What was her name?”

“Y/N.”

“Did she pass?”

“No, she is very much still alive.”

“Oh, well then did she use your body and then leave you?”

“No, she was far to kind to do such a thing.”

“Then I’m all out of reasons why you could be sad about a woman. Death and her leaving me are the only reasons I’m usually sad about a woman,” Jaskier chuckled, flagging down the tavern owner to get him a drink. “What has got you so down for then?”

“I’m not too sure,” he wasn’t lying. Geralt couldn’t think why it was that his chest felt as though another moment without her it may explode, or why just the thought of the stranger in the woods brought the largest smile to his face. “Nothing happened between us, but… Jaskier, she was like nobody I have ever laid eyes upon. She took me in during the storm, there was just something about her, something that made me feel as though I was complete…” Geralt spoke of her for around half an hour, something which was unusual for a man of very little word such as himself.

Jaskier was hanging off every word until Geralt stopped speaking. Immediately Jaskier was practically face to face with Geralt, suddenly full of all the energy in the world.

“YOU ARE A MAD MAN!”

“Jaskier, sh,” Geralt hushed, feeling the looks of the tavern patrons towards him and the bard.

“There is a perfect woman out there in the woods, and you’re here sitting feeling sorry for yourself when you never even tried to kiss her?! You are not allowed to feel sorry for yourself until you at least make an effort to win her!”

“She is to pure to want someone like me.”

“And how would you know,” Jaskier scoffed. “I didn’t realise witchers also had the ability to read minds now, when did you learn that trick?”

“Shut up,” Geralt growled. “As much as I want for her to be in my arms it would be selfish of me to ask that of her, I can’t ask her to wait for me to return all the time if she allowed me to have her as mine, and what would I do when she doesn’t want me? All that would do is make me feel worse.”

“If she rejects your advance I give you full permission to punch me ten times, as a way to ease your pain,” Jaskier smiled a little smug, “but you can’t do that without at least going and giving it a shot.”

Geralt, as much as he did not wish to, had to agree with the bard.

Y/N sat in her small house, noticing for perhaps the first time in since she had moved in how empty it was. Yes, she had trinkets upon trinkets, books from ceiling to floor, but in the absence of the traveler who had much to her disappointment come and gone, her humble home suddenly felt far larger, and far emptier than it actually was.

What ever was wrong with her? He was a random man who had simply needed a place to stay, hy was his absence causing her such heartache. Nothing had come of their meeting, as much as she had wanted it to, she had no right to pine away for a man that was not hers.

In the days since his absence she tried her best to busy herself. She read her books, cooked and baked, and even took a trip on her horse to go and see her family in the town, anything to get his image out of her head.

Tonight was no different. As the night crossed the sky, bringing with it the summer of the moon and a blankets of stars, Y/N set to work making a more complicated meal than needed, something just to keep herself busy. She sung a little to herself, a song of the witcher she had heard while visiting her family, as she made quick work of the task at hand. She bathed as it cooked, and once in her soft night gown she served up just one plate of the meal, realising that she had made far more than needed.

“Maybe the horse will want some,” she sighed, sitting down at her table to enjoy the meal. Sipping on her wine she was once again reminded of the first meeting she had had with Geralt, how he sat on her chair, looking large enough to break it. A soft huff left her lips as she began to eat. The meal wasn’t all that nice, but it was food, so she ate, taking sips of her wine from time to time. For the first time she understood what was meant when people said “silence is deafening”.

Finishing off her meal, she cleaned her plate, and settled herself down in the her chair, wine still in hand. The silence continued, that was until a hard, rather enthusiastic knock, rattled on her door.

#geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt of rivier #witcher #the witcher #the witcher x reader #witcher x reader #reader #reader insert #witcher insert #witcher reader insert

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honkytonkdyke · 4 years

Text

Essential Services

pairing: ironstrange

word count: 4,001 (unintentionally too!)

warnings: mentions of COVID-19, but not by name. alcohol and smut are heavy topics in this as well.

a/n: well @babywarg and @merelypassingtime, it’s here! it only took me ages, but i did it. i’m pretty proud of this one too! i hope you both, and anyone else who reads this fic enjoys it!

BREAKING NEWS: STATEWIDE CURFEW IN PLACE. PLEASE DO NOT LEAVE YOUR HOMES AFTER 8 PM.

The local news station's theme blared from his television's speakers as the headline scrolled across the bottom of his screen. Tony rolled his eyes and sighed, checking his watch for the time.

7:23, his watch read, and he laid back against his couch, fighting the urge to leave the house. He knew it wasn't safe, and of all places, where would he go? His favorite eateries and restaurants were closed due to nationwide quarantine, and he couldn't find the motivation to rummage in his pantry to make a meal. Tony certainly didn't want a drive-through fast-food meal at this time a night, but there was something he did crave.

Was it the boredom that had finally gotten to his head? Had he been isolated for so long that he had lost a grip on all the positive progress he had made? Maybe it was the lack of communication with the people who helped him make that uphill climb that plunged him this deep.

Whatever it may have been, Tony hadn't the slightest clue why he had made the decision to search for the address of the nearest liquor store. But alas, he clothed himself in a long-sleeved shirt, warm pants, and a heavy sweatshirt before slipping on his thick shoes before stepping out into the bitter cold New York City air.

Stephen sat in his chambers at the sanctum, a book opened on his desk before him. His phone beeped every few minutes with an update on this wretched disease he hated to hear about.

The governor of New York has issued a statewide curfew. Please do not exit your homes after 8 pm.

The sorcerer groaned at the message and stuffed his phone in his pocket. Stephen turned the volume down to silent and focused on the spellbook he currently studied. As he read through the materials needed to perform the unlearned divination spell, he recognized liquor was a key ingredient, much to his dismay. The sanctum didn't house liquor for the safety of its inhabitants, so Stephen would have to venture out into a sickness ridden realm to retrieve this key component of the spell.

Stephen donned himself in a woolen sweater and sweatpants; his appearance did not matter in these trying times. He sighed and prepared himself for the cold he had to face.

Stephen read the directions to the liquor store once more and embedded the street name and storefront in his mind. As much as he despised going out this late in the evening, he spoke to Wong before stepping into the bitterly cold and diseased realm.

The liquor store seemed to act as a common ground for the two men, even if they had gone to the shop for uncommon reasons. When they did meet, it was at the door, both of the men rushing to shield themselves from the cold.

“Excuse me!” Stephen exclaimed as he fell in behind the stranger. “I am terribly sorry, are you alright?”

Tony shot around at met the man’s eyes. With a spark igniting in his chest, he responded, “I’m fine,” he lied, hiding his enthusiasm beneath his low tone. “Thank you though. And yourself?”

Stephen nodded. “Yes, thank you.” As he walked further into the shop, he began to realize that he and the man were tracking the same aisles, possibly for the same alcohol.

The shelves had been climbed over, Tony noticed. All the best and cheapest brands had disappeared. However, if he had wanted the best, he could have had it imported and at his doorstep tomorrow morning. Tony wanted something to distract himself and ease his mind for the night.

Tony skimmed the shelves, jumping from one liquor to another. He hadn’t drunk in ages, and the names of the beverages felt like people he didn’t want to associate with any longer. Something in his heart tugged him to the door, but the longing in his chest to relieve his boredom overcame that urge and kept him between the shelves.

Stephen came to an aisle where the stranger from the door stood, and he found himself at the alcohol he needed for the spell. His fears had been relieved, for there was a singular bottle left of the shelf. Now he just had to hope that the man adjacent to him would not be on a quest for the same bottle.

Tony noticed the man a couple of feet away from him. He gave him a glance out of the corner of his eye, but he decided not to speak. Just as he reached for the final bottle of his preferred alcohol on the shelf, his hand collided with the stranger from the door, and he felt heat run to his chest. Their eyes met, and quickly, Tony pulled his hand away.

Stephen’s heart jumped in his chest, and his eyes darted between the man and the bottle. “I need that,” Stephen spoke, “more than you do, I’m sure.” His tone exuded confidence, but the last thing Stephen wanted was to find himself in a fight with a drunk.

Tony rolled his eyes and an eyebrow rose on his forehead. “Yeah, I highly doubt it. I’m bored out of my mind, this is all I got.”

“Bored?” Stephen scoffed and grabbed the liquor from the shelf. “There is a for this bottle, one I cannot disclose to you.”

“Oh, a secret?” Tony let a smirk crawl up his face and stepped forward. “Do tell,” he fake whined, “why you need this exact bottle of liquor so badly.”

“It’s got the highest percentage of alcohol in the store. It’s the purest, just what I need for my endeavor,” Stephen explained while still keeping his wizardry secret safe. “It also explains why it’s so understocked.”

Tony nodded and looked the man up and down. “Listen, I don’t want to hear your vague, half-assed excuses about why you need it more than I do. Give me a straight reason and I’ll let you keep it.”

Stephen rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m arguing with a stranger in the liquor store about a bottle of alcohol. Okay, at least before I tell you, will you give me a name?”

Tony’s eyes looked to the shelves and back to the man. “Tony,” he told. “And I need yours.”

“Well, Tony,” Stephen replied and crossed his arms, the neck of the bottle in his tight grip. “My name is Stephen. And I have some questions for you.”

“You have the questions for me? I don’t understand why you’re hoarding the alcohol when you make it pretty clear, based on the fact that you haven’t given me an actual answer as to why you are so persistent in keeping it to yourself,” Tony rebutted as his voice began to grow in volume.

Stephen shook his head. “You haven’t given me a chance to explain myself!” He glared at the man. “Do you really want to know?” his voice was low as he eased closer to the man. “There’s so much you would have to know if I told you why.”

“You’ve got until eight o’clock, and it’s already seven forty-five. I’d suggest you hurry this up, or we’ll get caught walking home,” Tony reminded, his eyes focused on the bottle. “If you’re afraid of someone hearing you’re a drunk, need I tell you we are in a liquor store. Just say what you have to say.”

Stephen exhaled, his glare never letting up. “I don’t have anything to say. You’re making me say why over a bottle of alcohol. You know what?” He summoned the cloak. “Woah, now,” Tony exclaimed as the red seemingly sentient cloth wrapped around his torso and began to pull him from the aisle and through a doorway.

Stephen smirked as he followed Tony and the cloak into the backroom. He shut the door with a wave of his hand behind himself and snapped his fingers. The clock on the wall stopped ticking. “I have as long as you do,” Stephen spoke as he took a chair from behind the desk and moved it against the wall. He commanded the cloak to set Tony in the chair.

The cloak did as it was told, throwing Tony’s restrained body into the empty chair. After performing its task, the cloak disappeared into the air.

“What the hell was that?” Tony exclaimed. His eyes were wide and his mouth was agape at the sheer unbelievability he just witnessed. “Who are you?”

Stephen smiled. “I’m a sorcerer, a master of the mystic arts. I need the liquor for a divination spell that requires the highest alcohol concentration I could find. Since I can’t make alcohol in a night, I decided I’d visit the nearest liquor store. If you can give me an answer better than being bored than maybe I’ll decide to give it to you. However, based on how it’s looking with this virus, this might just be the only alcohol I’ll be able to get for a while. So you better have a damn good reason.”

Tony realized why the man was so reluctant to tell him his true reasons. They were odd but based on what he had just witnessed and the fact that he was tied to a chair with seemingly no bondage, his claims were incredibly believable. He was no longer bored by the facets of his life, for this wizard had graced him with excitement. Maybe he could find a bit more of that excitement before he departed empty-handed.

“I’ll make a deal with you,” Tony spoke and eyed the man and up and down. “You leave me with a memory of you and I’ll let you have the bottle. Something to ease my boredom for the time being. Based on the red in your cheeks, I’d say you might want something more than alcohol as well.” A sly smirk climbed his face.

Stephen’s chest jumped in an internal gasp. His mouth parted to speak, but the intensive, desirous gaze of the man before him took the words from his tongue. “The deal wouldn’t be fair. I’d be getting two things and only one of them I actually need,” he managed to say as a tightness grew in his stomach.

“But you know you want to make it, Stephen,” Tony continued, a glimmer of lust in his eyes as they met Stephen’s. “You haven’t had a distraction in years.”

Stephen pulled his eyes away from the man for a split second, but the strength of Tony’s gaze brought his eyes back to the man. He bit his lip. “Here?”

“Yes, here,” Tony answered. “I promise, no one will know and unless you want this again, we can part ways.”

Stephen lowered his eyes, succumbing to his deepest wants for the first time in years He placed the bottle on an empty wooden carton and eased back over to the man in the chair. He broke the man’s bonds to the chair and watched him stand.

“Thank you,” Tony said with a slight smile and brought his hand behind the sorcerer’s head, resting it at the base of his neck.

Stephen flinched at the sparks of arousal under Tony’s fingers. He wished to speak, but a thick silence lingered in the air he refused to break. He tried to calm his heart rate as Tony rested his arms on Stephen’s shoulder.

“Relax, Stephen,” Tony crooned and began to sway with the man. “Enjoy this.”

Stephen nodded and leaned into the embrace, his tight muscles slowly starting to loosen under the man’s touch. He let out a sigh as Tony’s lips began to trail down his neck, planting soft but eager kisses on his collarbone. Stephen’s hands eased to the hem of Tony’s sweatshirt, and he grabbed the shirt underneath as he lifted the clothing above his head, exposing the man’s bare chest to the warm, wet air of the cellar. He set the clothes in the empty chair.

Tony slowly undid the buttons of Stephen’s sweater and draped it over the chair where he had sat. He ran his hands across Stephen’s chest. His body was warm to the touch as heat radiated throughout the sorcerer’s body. He continued to kiss the man’s chest lightly as his fingers played with the seam of his sweatpants. He dragged his fingers down his groin and let them dance beneath the waistband and along the sorcerer’s hips. He loosened the sweatpants and let them fall to the floor at Stephen’s feet.

Stephen gripped the fabric of Tony’s trousers and pushed them to the floor, suddenly becoming eager for the man’s touch once again. He wished to please the man and leave him with the touch of which he asked.

Tony let out a chuckle and he did the same to Stephen as the couple eased over to the desk in the corner of the room. He leaned against the desk underneath Stephen.

Stephen, as he regained his confidence, stated, “Turn over. I think you’ll be more comfortable if you’re propped against the table.”

Tony bit his lip and did as he was told, feeling the arousal build in his chest once again. Even if the man’s hands were scarred, the touch of his fingers was soft and tender. He anticipated the blissful feeling he was about to experience for the first time in a long time as Stephen pulled his boxers below his knees.

Stephen eased his underwear off as well and leaned his hips against Tony. “Are you ready?” he asked, his voice low.

Tony looked back at the man and exhaled. “Of course, Stephen. Give it your all.”

Stephen let out his nervousness with a breath and positioned his hips at the correct angle for comfortable entry. He held his hands against Tony’s side and swiftly thrust into the man, stroking his skin softly to comfort him.

Tony moaned deeply, pleasure seeping through his voice. “God, Stephen,” he managed and bit his lip, suppressing even louder cries of his pleasure. “Keep going,” he said through clenched teeth.

Stephen thrust into the man slowly, rolling his hips at a bitterly pleasurable pace, careful not to tire himself out, for both of them. He loved the tightness around his cock, the likes of which he had not experienced in ages. Beads of sweat rolled down his bare chest, his hands becoming slick at the sweat from Tony’s skin.

As Stephen plunged himself further into Tony with each roll of his hips, Tony moaned his name like a mantra, begging for more and faster at that. But Stephen wished to go as long as he and Tony’s bodies would let them, for he didn’t want to end this moment for either of them. He wished to sustain his energy and prolong their shared pleasure to the very end.

“Are you still enjoying yourself, Tony?” Stephen spoke, his lips lowered to the man’s ear as he bucked his hips, not able to break his wave of movement into the man. “I do hope you are.”

Tony nodded and let out a moan as his lips parted to speak. “God, yes, Stephen. You are - agh!” he exclaimed as Stephen gave a harder thrust than the pattern before. “Right there, Stephen!”

Stephen’s thrusts became quick and rough as their skin began to clap against one another’s, the sound of sex filling the room. As Tony moaned and writhed in pleasure, Stephen held his grip on Tony’s hips as he felt the man contract around his cock. He knew the man was close to his climax. He continued his quicker and uneven thrusts, wishing to bring the man to his peak.

Tony’s mind became clouded with bliss and his body rocked in ecstasy as he was brought to orgasm by the man. He rode the waves of his climax as his chest heaved and he was unable to speak or open his eyes due to the intensity in which he came.

As Tony returned from the pleasurable high of his orgasm, he wished to bring Stephen the same bliss in which he gave him. “You haven’t come yet, have you, Stephen?”

Stephen found himself caught off guard by the question and still enthralled by the convulsive nature of Tony around his cock. He hesitated as the question took a moment to process through his mind.

“No, not just yet,” Stephen answered, his chest rising and falling as his breathing began to steady. “Would you like me to continue until I do?”

Tony let out a chuckle and shook his head. “Let me get you there, Stephen. If you would, go ahead and slide out of me.”

Stephen nodded and brought himself out of Tony. He moaned at the sudden change, immediately desiring the feeling of the man around his cock once again. He watched the man turn around and come to his knees on the ground, smiling at Stephen as he did so.

Tony ran his thumbs down Stephen’s groin and looked up at the man. “Are you okay with this?”

“Go ahead,” he replied and grounded himself in the echoed grasp of Tony held against Stephen’s hips. Arousal continued to build in his abdomen as the man’s fingers inched closer to his groin and stroked undefined patterns into the skin.

Tony leaned into the man and kissed the tip of his length before stroking the shaft ever so slightly with his tongue. He steadied the man as he jerked under his touch, guiding him into the act. Tony gradually took Stephen’s cock into his mouth, tasting the saltiness of his juices as they eased down the back of his tongue.

“Dear God, Tony!”

Stephen let out a bright moan, his hands seizing the table for leverage. Pleasure surged through his veins, and he was unable to focus on anything but the man before him. His hips bucked impulsively as if to ask for more of the heavenly sensation from the man. Stephen fervently cried the man’s name as Tony ran his lips up and down his length.

As the tip hit the back of Tony’s throat, Stephen quickly came undone before the man, his seed spilling in Tony’s mouth. His body trembled in euphoria, and a sea of moans fled from his lips as the effects of his orgasm spread throughout his body. He chanted Tony’s name under his breath as he slowly came back to full awareness of his surroundings.

Tony removed his mouth from around Stephen’s cock and let out a heavy breath. He smiled as he caught his breath and stood to meet Stephen’s eyes, gathering their undergarments from the floor. He wiped a bead of sweat from the other man’s forehead and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek.

“Are you satisfied, Stephen?” Tony asked sweetly, handing Stephen his pair of underwear and pulled his over his groin.

Stephen donned himself in the garment. “I am.” He smiled. “And you?”

Tony nodded and wrapped his arms around the man’s waist. “Get dressed. I’ll walk you home.”

Stephen gathered his clothes from the chair and the floor and dressed quickly, making sure he was tightly wrapped in each article of clothing. He dreaded going back out into the cold. The effects of their sex still lingered, however; for his mouth still formed a euphoric, soft smile.

Tony clothed himself in the many layers that had been strewn across the floor and smoothed out the fabric. He still felt Stephen’s tight grip on his hips as he pulled over shirt over his head and smoothed out the wrinkles at his waist. He gazed at Stephen.

“Are you ready?” Tony asked and walked over to Stephen. He pushed Stephen’s dampened hair off his forehead.

“Not looking forward to going out in the cold, but let’s get this over with,” Stephen answered and let out a soft chuckle.

The room, still silent as before they engaged with each other, suddenly came back to life as the clock began to tick once again.

“You know, I forgot you had done that,” Tony admitted as they exited through the doors of the backroom.

Stephen, with his liquor bottle in hand, shut the door behind himself and approached the front desk. He took a ten-dollar bill from his pocket and his identification, handed it to the man behind the counter. “Keep the change,” Stephen stated.

The store clerk lit up. “Thank you! He slid the card back to Stephen. “Would you like a bag or receipt?”

Stephen shook his head. “No, but thank you, sir. Have a wonderful evening.”

Tony opened the door for the sorcerer and held it open as he walked through. He waved to the shopkeeper as he shut the door behind himself. The cold engulfed the two as they walked down the New York city streets.

“How often do you have sex with strangers?” Stephen asked and smirked at Tony. “If you mind me asking.”

Tony chuckled. “Not much anymore. This was the first time I had actually done something with a person in almost a year, since my last relationship.” He sighed but smiled at the man.

“Maybe we could do this more often if you enjoyed it enough tonight,” Stephen suggested, his hand trembling by his side. He looked to Tony, his eyes filled with the hope of a budding relationship. He truly did enjoy this man’s company.

Tony nodded, his eyes falling to the man’s side. “That’d be really nice, actually. Maybe sometime soon if this quarantine doesn’t last too long.” He paused and took Stephen’s hand into his. “Thank you for tonight. I really needed it even if it was over a bottle of alcohol.”

Stephen smiled and raised the bottle, his hand struggling to hold it in the air. “I did too.”

They walked together in comforting silence for the next couple of blocks before reaching the sanctum on Bleecker Street. The stopped at the steps to bid one another farewell.

“Here’s the address of this sanctum and my phone number,” Stephen spoke and conjured a small card in his hand. He gave it to Tony, pressing the card into his hand. He chuckled again and met the man’s eyes. “Do you think the government would consider this trip essential?”

Tony shrugged and placed the card in the pocket of his pants. “I don’t know, Stephen. But it may be a while before we see each other again.”

Stephen nodded. “My full name is Stephen Strange. I realized I didn’t tell you at the liquor store, I thought you might need to know if we’re going to keep in touch during this. I hope to see you again.” He smiled.

“Tony Stark,” the man responded and pressed a kiss to Stephen’s cheek. “I do too, Stephen. I’ll call you soon. I’ll even visit if I can.”

Stephen blushed at the affection of the other man. “I can portal to you with my magic. That way I won’t have to get out in this mess and risk getting sick. Do you think you’ll be able to make it home before the curfew starts? I’ll open you a portal if you want.”

“That’d be wonderful. How would you be able to get the right location?” Tony asked, in awe of the man’s ability as a sorcerer.

Stephen smiled and twisted open an orange sparkling portal in front of the man. “Location charm. The portal recognizes the target and where it wants to go.” He signaled for Tony to enter.

“Goodnight, Stephen. Stay safe,” Tony said, a bright smile on his face. “I hope I don’t have to meet you at the liquor store again.”

Stephen shook his head. “You won’t. Goodnight, Tony.” He smirked as the man waved and walked through the portal. Stephen brought his hands together, and the sparks disintegrated before him. He took his bottle from the steps and entered the sanctum for the night.

#ironstrange #tony stark x stephen strange #tony stark #stephen strange #ironstrange fanfic #vadesmasterlist #vadesfic #vade's post

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