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palbabor-writes · 3 years

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Quarter-Century

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mild heavy petting, but this is pretty tame, oh & lots of fluff, likely enough to kill someone, so watch out for that, k?

What’s with him today? It’s just another day. After all, birthdays don’t matter when you’re this old, right? It’s not like he’s a kid. He doesn’t need a party, doesn’t really want one either. Besides, you’ve likely got something planned, you always do.

Words: 3754

Notes: if i call this a drabble are y’all gonna get mad at me?

Quarter-Century quar·ter-cen·tu·ry /ˈkwôrdər/ - /ˈsen(t)SH(ə)rē/ noun a period of 25 years

Twenty-five.

It’s always spoken about like it’s some kind of milestone. Eh, it’s just another year, Kiyoomi thinks, tugging his sweaty shirt off of his back and walking toward the MSBY team dressing room, there’s nothing special about it.

He’d woken up at 5:25, taken his first shower, kissed your sleeping form absentmindedly on the cheek before he left the bedroom, and jogged the three miles to the training facility.

He’d worked on his digs, on his jump float, and looked over the drills. The team had two practice games and had huddled up for the review at the end, the same as always. As Kiyoomi made his way out of the locker room Atsumu and Bokuto had both clapped him on the back, joking about the fleeting joys of ‘youth,’ and congratulating him on his performance on the court before they all went their separate ways, each gliding along their own trajectory.

No, there’s nothing special about birthdays.

You’re not back from work when he gets home, so Kiyoomi pads around the empty apartment, flitting from room to room, disjointedly flipping on lights and switching them back off seconds later. It’s like he can’t make up his mind. Should he take a nap? He could sleep off these uncharacteristic and frustrating jitters that keep coursing through him. No, he reconsiders naps just make him groggy and irritable. What else?

He’s showered twice today, there’s no need for another, and it looks like you’d cleaned up the living room and kitchen before you’d left for the day, so there’s nothing for him to clean either. Ugh, what’s with this restlessness?

There are old matches that he can watch, already primed and loaded onto his laptop, but it’s charging in the bedroom, likely tucked under some of your leaflets and various heapings of paperwork. It’d be a pain to move everything.

Eh, he could start a puzzle, maybe flip through some channels, see what’s on TV, and there’s that book that you’d told him he should check out, he’s weeks behind on starting that, but it’s in the bedroom too, and–

Damn it. It feels like he’s stuck in some kind of loop.

He flops down on the couch, tipping his dark head back, obsidian curls fanning around his forehead as he stares up at the ceiling. What’s with him today? It’s just another day. After all, birthdays don’t matter when you’re this old, right? It’s not like he’s a kid. He doesn’t need a party, doesn’t really want one either. Besides, you’ve likely got something planned, you always do. He smiles at that thought, running his hands through his hair and letting out a deep exhale. It’ll be alright, he reasons, you’ll get back and he’ll shake himself out of this funk, and then maybe he can–

The sudden scrape of the lock turning makes him jump, and he pops his head up just as you step through the door, a smattering of canvas bags tucked under your coiled hands. You spot him as you tap the door closed, a broad grin lighting up your face. “Hey there!” you call out, stepping toward the kitchen to deposit your purchases. “Did you just get home? Practice go okay?”

“It went well,” Kiyoomi replies, hunching forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “That reminds me, the next match is this weekend, you still planning on going?”

“Yeah!” you confirm, tucking a few things into the fridge before you pace over to his seated figure. “It’s right before the playoffs start, so it’ll likely be one of the last ones I can get a good seat to. Once you guys get in those end of season bouts it gets...Hey, you sure you’re alright? You look a little, I don’t know, downcast?” You kneel in front of him, your hands reaching, stroking gently over his hair and down his jaw.

“I’m fine. Feel a little...off...is all. Happens.”

“Off?” you question, bright eyes finally catching his onyx. “Well, we can’t have that. Not today!”

“Hmph, it’s just a Saturday,” Kiyoomi huffs, catching your wrists and lowering your hands from his face.

“Yes,” you continue, watching as he distractedly toys with your hands, trailing his thumbs over your fingers and flipping your palms this way and that within his hold. “It’s also a Saturday where I’ve played the role of good– no great, girlfriend and got us some tickets! Surprise!”

“Tickets?” he echoes, his head cocking to the side as he lifts his gaze back to yours. “To what? If it’s some kinda concert, not to be an ass, but I don’t really want to go to a–”

“Really?” you deadpan, arching an eyebrow at his morose expression. “You think, after two years of dating, that I’d take you to a concert? You? Kiyoomi Sakusa, the man who is pretty much allergic to crowds, who completely dipped out of a shoe store once because there were five people in the ‘athletic wear’ section, who abhors the mere thought of tight spaces and groups of twenty or more, thought that I, his loving partner, decided to put some some color into his living nightmares, and on his birthday no less, by bringing him to a concert?”

Kiyoomi clicks his tongue and exhales a tight laugh. “When you put it that way, no. But on the off chance that you did, and you’re trying to bluff your way out of the situation by over elaborating your reasons for not bringing me, well…I’m gonna have to decline the gift.”

You narrow your eyes at his impassive face and purse your lips. “And to think, I was gonna come over here and give you a kiss and everything.”

“You’ll still give me one,” Kiyoomi smarts, a coquettish smirk lifting his lips when you openly scoff at him. “So, out with it, what are the tickets to?”

“Oh? Now you wanna know? Suddenly you’re curious. Well you can hold on to that buddy, cuz’ I’m not gonna tell you.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Why should I?”

“It’s my birthday,” he intones simply, broad palms already sliding up your arms, pulling you closer. You smell nice, Kiyoomi thinks, lips barely missing your own as you twist playfully away from him.

“Pfft, what happened to ‘it’s just a Saturday?’” you tease, following his insistent tugs, one knee pressing down into the cushions of the couch as you lower yourself over his lap.

“Changed my mind,” Kiyoomi states, finally catching you and caressing his lips sinfully against yours. “I’m allowed to do that,” he continues, sucking a rasp from you as he drags his sharp teeth across the plush swell of your lower lip. “Mmm, you might have gotten a little distracted, so let me repeat my question: what are the tickets to?”

He is genuinely interested; he wants to know what you’ve planned for the two of you, but his hands have already started that downward journey, long digits stroking over the curves that flow down your side, cupping and pulling just the way you like. Your knees lift when he buries his fingertips into the flesh of your upper thighs and you sigh, breath warm against his flushed cheeks.

Actually, this is fine. After all, he’s good at this. He’s had plenty of time to learn you, to practice, and he loves that he knows just what to do to make you quake between his heated palms. But when he jerks you closer, your lips slip from his and you’re careful to brace yourself away, momentarily safe from his distracting caresses.

“Baseball,” you pant, hands resting over the hard plane of his pectorals.

“Huh?” he queries, heavy brows furrowing, wholly distracted by the rise and fall of your uneven breaths and the gentle twitch of your spread legs against his hips.

“A baseball game. I got us tickets to a baseball game.”

“It’s smaller than what I was picturing,” Kiyoomi says, adjusting the placement of his mask before looking down at you. “And what are you gonna do with that bag? Can you even take that in here?”

You laugh at his question, hoisting the thick strap of your insulated pack higher on your shoulder. “It’s the Yomiuri Giants, they’re part of the minor league so it’s a smaller stadium and don’t worry, they let you bring coolers and snacks in.”

“Eh? Snacks? Don’t they have concessions? Seems counter-productive if they let you bring your own food. How are they supposed to make money? Atsumu said that half of our vendors make a good deal of their revenue from their booths during the playoffs and the regular season. So I don’t see how that’s practical. What do you have in there, anyway? It looks heavy. Oh. Did you want me to carry it?”

“I’m not sure which one of those I should answer first,” you grin, dodging his extended hand and stepping forward. “Come on, I think we can head in now.”

The seats are located in the shade of the upper deck, right behind the third base, giving you both a perfect bird's-eye view of the action that will take place down on the field below. True to your word, the ticket inspectors had let you and your pack pass through without a word of protest, and as he flipped down his plastic seat, you carefully tucked the thick canvas between the two of you.

“What’s in it?” he asked again, peering over your shoulder as you unzipped the long teeth and reached into the dark depths, hands searching for something.

“You’ll see,” you promise, leaning back once you found your prize, a small bottle of hand sanitizer. You pop the lid up and nod for his palms, carefully pressing some of the clear antiseptic onto his hands. “Game should start soon,” you inform, repeating the cleaning process yourself before closing the top and tossing the bottle back into the bag. “And I wanna make sure you’re set before I head down to the concession stands.”

“So it’s food,” he determines, slipping his mask off of his face, tucking it under his chin, an appreciative smile winding its way up his lips.

“Of course it is! You think I’d leave you to languish for 9 innings while I sit beside you, gorging myself on the delicious food they sell at the concessions, which you refuse to eat? Alas, not even I am that cruel. Nah, I brought something that I hope you’ll like.”

“I’ll like it,” Kiyoomi replies, resting his muscled shoulder against yours, watching as you arrange a few clear sets of Tupperware in your hands, lifting them evenly out of the bag.

“Careful,” you jab, tossing him a mischievous grin. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Kiyoomi shrugs. “It’s from you; I’ll like it.”

Your hands still after his declaration and you twist your head back to him, eyes wide, searching his placid expression. “Okay,” you laugh, setting the Tupperware aside, fully turning to him and wrapping an arm around his neck, your other hand cupping his cheek, pulling him down to your seeking lips. “That was too much. There some sort of class you stoic types take? How to make others swoon in five lessons, or less?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Kiyoomi rolls his eyes, prying your hands from him. “It’s true. No need to make a big deal about it. You put a lot of effort into today, and I...I just think that...I mean...thanks,” he finishes lamely, dark eyes balefully avoiding yours. You chuckle again and reward him with another peck to his cheek.

“So cute.”

“Stop it,” he grumbles, a faint blush staining his cheeks. “Weren’t you gonna show me something? Better hurry. After all, there’s still time for me to mess it up.”

“What does that mean?” you puzzle, pulling away.

“I dunno. I always say the wrong shit. You know that.”

“Well,” you ponder, tapping a finger against your chin. “We’re at a baseball game, so, in the spirit of the sport, why don’t I give you three strikes?”

“Just three? I mean, wow, that’s so generous of you.”

You flash him a quick glare, tutting your tongue against the roof of your mouth. “Oooh, swing and a miss. Strike one!”

He’s just about to give you some retort when you press two of the containers into his hands. The heat of the plastic feels nice against his calloused palms, and he can see the fresh steam that surrounds the food that’s waiting inside. “Onigiri?” he questions, popping the lid, mouth watering at the sight of all of that pristine rice. Damn, when did you have time to make these?

“Homemade onigiri with pickled plums,” you inform him, a gleeful smile lighting up your face, pleased that he’s already reaching for one, a look of genuine happiness falling over his usually impassive expression.

“You remembered,” he murmurs, picking up the carefully shaped ball and lifting it to his lips. He bites into the fluffy rice, fastidiously letting the flavors fall over his tongue and across his pallet. It’s perfect, he thinks as he chews, just the right amount of pickled savoriness and clean, delicate grains. Damn, when did you do all of this?

You let him finish the first onigiri before you pass him a can of beer. It’s chilled, likely sitting toward the bottom of the bag, and he flicks a stray chip of ice off of the rim. A sealed can of beer, a carefully packed meal. Is there anything you haven’t thought of?

He’s just about to turn, to tell you that...well, he’s not sure what exactly. Maybe it is something about how lucky he is. How he’s somehow stumbled into something so sublime, so wonderful, as you, and how he should tell you that more, when you stand.

“I’m going to hop down to the food stands. Inning should open up any minute. I’m glad this is an off season game, we’ve pretty much got this whole deck to ourselves! Be right back, ‘kay?”

He nods, eyes lingering on your hands, your smile, your eyes, just everything that he can see that’s you, but he doesn’t speak. He can’t. What’s he gonna say? Don’t go? Stay here. He’ll go down.

He’ll do whatever you want; anything for you, anything.

You tilt your head at his stony, almost stricken expression, but you don’t comment on it, content with tucking one of his stray curls behind his ear before you spring up the steps, stepping away from his overwhelmed and utterly entranced form.

Damn.

He’s scrolling through his phone when the 1st inning ends, thumb whisking over the lists of required paperwork, the $50 dollar notarial fee, the Kon-in Todoke, mentally counting up the required signatures, the necessary witnesses. This is crazy, he thinks, skimming over the U.S. Embassy & Consulate regulations on the ‘Affidavit of Competency to Marry’ in Japan, he hasn’t even talked with you about this, but he’s honestly never felt more sure of anything in his life.

Right as he flips to a secondary tab, one that holds a few jewelry stores and ideas about ‘how to pop the question,’ he catches sight of you. You slide down the row of empty seats, your hands filled with various snacks and a tall glass of foaming beer.

“Sorry! Wasn’t expecting to take that long, I completely missed the 1st inning! Good thing no one scored. Hopefully things will liven up with the 2nd and 3rd innings.” You settle in beside him, setting your beer against the cold concrete before jostling your popcorn and hot dog to your opposite hand, eyes peering over the brightly lit field.

Kiyoomi bites back his grin and switches his phone off, obscuring the glittering pixels of diamonds and his future plans from view and tucks his device into his jacket pocket. You turn to look at him, your eyes narrowing and brow arching at his poorly controlled attempts to hide his giddiness.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he replies, slinging a long arm around your shoulders, tugging you close and planting a quick kiss against your temple.

“Liar,” you accuse, leaning back, eyes following the sharp angles of his handsome face.

“What made you pick baseball? You feeling homesick or something?”

“Hmph, no! I just...hmm, how to put this. I figured it’d be nice to take you to a game that’s not volleyball. One that we can just watch. There’s no need to worry about analyzing anyone’s performance, or your own here…you can just relax.”

Kiyoomi cocks his head at you, a few errant curls falling over his brow. “Do I do that when we go to a volleyball game?”

You nearly choke on your beer. “Mmm...koff...do you do that? Did you seriously just ask me that?”

“Yeah,” he affirms, obsidian eyes watching you closely. Wait, is he a pain to go to a game with?

“Kiyoomi?”

“Hmm.”

“I wasn’t about to take you to a volleyball game for your birthday. That’d be like you taking me back to the office and asking me to celebrate with you in the staff break room. I mean, I know you love the sport, but it’s your job. It’s what you do all day. Besides, the last time we went to a match I don’t think you said more than five words to me and you were constantly writing down the plays on your phone. I–Oh! That’s not a bad thing, not at all! It makes sense,” you amend, catching sight of his abruptly ashen expression.

“It’s just...you’re good...no good doesn’t cut it...you’re amazing at what you do. You’ve got that hunger that all the sports documentaries I’ve ever watched talk about and you’re constantly looking to improve. It’s impressive, really! But...I just thought this might be a change of pace. Something that we could both go to, could watch, with no additional stakes. Who cares who wins? I mean, I want the home team to, obviously, but we can leave here when it’s over and just take memories, not more worries or challenges. And definitely not any notes. Sorry, that prolly’ sounds so rude, but I really want you to relax today. You more than deserve it.”

“It’s perfect,” Kiyoomi confirms, finally leaning back against the strong plastic of his seat, pulling you closer, bringing his knee toward your thigh, pressing until he can feel the heat of you past the material of his jeans. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me,” you laugh. “It’s the least I could do. If you’re happy, then I’m happy! Oh! Speaking of, you gotta try this beer! It’s so good!”

He looks skeptically down at the plastic glass that’s still clutched between your fingers. “No. I’m not drinking out of that cup.”

“Kiyoomi,” you begin, fixing him with a hard stare. “You know we live together, right? If I pick anything up from this, then, and I hate to tell you this, but you’ll get it too, eventually.”

With a scoffed exhale and a curl of his lip he leans away from you, nose wrinkling distastefully at your threat.

“Come on,” you taunt, shaking the cup playfully in your hand, “You won’t regret it!”

“No.”

“Ugh, you’re no fun, you know that?”

“Never heard that before,” he laughs, coiling himself toward you, his arm around your back, squeezing you closer, holding on as tight as he can.

It’s dark when the two of you get back home, but you won’t let him flip on the overhead lights, not yet. “Just wait, gimme a sec. There’s one more thing I wanna do...why don’t you go sit on the couch. I’ll turn on the lamp and be right back, promise.”

Obediently, he perches on the edge of the cushions and waits.

He can hear you as you move around the kitchen, and he feels like he can still feel the warmth of your skin under his fingertips. Throughout the game, on the cab ride home, as he stood behind you in the darkened hallway, waiting for you to unlock the door, he’d kept his hands on you. It was like you were some kind of magnet and he couldn’t help but be tugged forward by your irresistible pull.

“Hey! Close your eyes!” you call, feet soft against the wood as you pad back to him. He shakes his head at your request, a faint smile pulling at his lips, but he obliges you. How can he not? “No peeking,” you warn, and he it’s like he can almost feel you again as you come to stand in front of him once more. “Alright…I think that’s good. Now...open them!”

The space in front of him is bathed in a soft glow, with whisking yellows and gentle oranges dancing, flickering across your arms. The light from the candle illuminates your face, catching against your eyes and making them shine, and he’s honestly not sure if he’s breathing anymore.

“I know it’s not much,” you justify, cupping your fingers around the delicate flame and lifting the cupcake toward him. “But I learned my lesson last year. Got you that huge cake and the leftovers languished in the fridge for almost a week. And you know what they say, less is more, right?”

Without thinking, his hands race forward, gripping your waist and pulling you closer. “Woah,” you exhale, a laugh bubbling from your lips. “Careful! I don’t wanna catch you on fire. Some birthday that would be. Come on, time’s a’wasting birthday boy, blow it out and make a wish!”

He’d lied earlier.

When he’d thought that there was nothing special about birthdays. There is something special about this birthday and, for the first time, he knows just what he’s going to wish for.

It’s easy to blow out the light. It’s a little harder to protect the cupcake from his downward tug, his hands insistent, firm, but somehow you safely tuck it behind you and twist back to him, fingers lacing into his onyx curls.

“What did you wish for?” you ask, settling yourself across his lap.

“Can’t tell you yet,” Kiyoomi answers honestly, lips already seeking yours.

“Huh? You’re not supposed to tell me at all!”

“Too bad,” he intones, silencing any further retorts with the heady persuasion of his caresses and wandering touch. “I’m gonna tell you soon. Now let me enjoy you.”

notes: hbd! shoutout to @albinoburrito for her excellent edits and suggestions :*

#hbd sakusa 🧁#sakusa kiyoomi #kiyoomi sakusa #hq!!#hq #hq imagines #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #sakusa x y/n #sakusa x reader #sakusa x you #kiyoomi x reader #kiyoomi x you #kiyoomi x y/n #drabble #sort of???#whatever #it's a drabble

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yuna-dan · 4 years

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Comfort Drink

It’s been ages since I’ve written something for this fandom but I was super thrilled when I got this comission, it’s also my very fist comission!!!

It got longer than the stablished “1550″ words, so I hope you don’t mind?

Thank @thealphabetmurders for this comission! And I hope you like it as much as I enjoy writting this.

Warning: Mention of violence. Swearing. Kinda Katara bashing but not on purpose, she’s doing her best.

Summary: Five Times Zuko went to a coffeeshop and didn't drink anything and one time he did."What are you doing here?” He asked, only to rethink his words, “Not that I’m not thrilled to see you, spirits, it’s been…” “Five years.” Zuko ended the sentence for him

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Buy me a kofi? | Masterpost | Comission Info

“Sorry we’re closed.” Sokka said, without even looking at the person, closing the door with his keys. He wanted nothing more than to take a shower, get the coffee beans out of his apron and stayed up all night watching Netflix.

The man hasn’t moved, so Sokka guessed it was either a junkie, a jerk or someone homeless. He gasped in surprised when he turned around only to see him there.

Zuko was staring at him, his mismatched eyes seeing everything but his face, “Hi.”

Sokka cleaned his throat, “What are you doing here?” He asked, only to rethink his words, “Not that I’m not thrilled to see you, spirits, it’s been…”

“Five years.” Zuko ended the sentence for him.

Sokka felt as if the air on his lungs was airbended out of them, five years since they graduated highschool, five years since he had seen the possible love of his life Zuko, and now they were here, outside his shitty job wearing a grey suit and his hair now was long.

He had so many things to say, but in the end he just said.

“Neat.”

Zuko chuckled and look away. For a moment he thought he was making a fool of himself, but then again, this was Zuko, his highschool sweetheart.

“It was nice seeing you again, Sokka.” He finally said, and bowed, the motherfucker had the audacity to bowed when they’ve known what their mouths taste like.

Then he left, leaving Sokka was once again with a lot of questions on the tip of his tongue.

Later, much later when he was texting Katara he brought it up.

What do you mean you see him?

Even on text he could read how mad his sister was, he texted with only one hand as he brushed his teeth with the other.

I was closing the coffeshop and he bumped into me, I think it was just coincidence.

He snorted when he saw his little sister’s response

It better be

Sokka hoped it wasn’t, but then again, life didn’t work like he wanted to.

It wasn’t coincidence, or at least twice in the same month would be a very slim coincidence, but here was, the ex-heir of Ozai’s fortune standing in the line, wearing his peasant clothes.

He wanted to ask, what are you doing here? But it came out as a “Welcome to the White Lotus, what can I get for you, Zuko?

Zuko was nervous, at first glance it wasn’t obvious, but Sokka knew this guy, he noticed small things like the way his marred cheek was twitching or the way his left hand was doing small circles.

“It’s good I get here before you close…” Sokka smiled, because goddammit, Zuko was terrible at small talks but he was trying.

“Well, more coffee shops close after 10 p.m.” He replied, leaning against the counter. He was very glad today wasn’t so busy, “but tell me Jerkbender, what can I get for you?”

“A jasmine tea.”

And of course, Sokka already knew this, Zuko continuously expressed his hatred toward tea but Uncle Iroh had rubbed into him. Whenever Zuko was sad or missing home, his comfort drink was jasmine tea.

The nonbender bit his tongue, are you okay? he wanted to say, but it came out as a “Coming right out you, Zuko.”

Sokka entertain himself making the tea, and when he called Zuko’s name, nobody came.

It wasn’t the first time Zuko left unfinished something, and this time, it didn’t hurt that much.

He drank the tea, and the moist on his eyes was due to the steam, and nothing else.

That night he crashed into Toph and Suki apartment, because he missed his friends, not because he felt lonely. He decided on not telling the rest of the gaang he’s seen Zuko, but for some reason he guessed Toph already knew.

The next time it happened, Sokka wasn’t even there.

It was Katara who told him what happened, with her smug face as if she was proud on what she did. Aang kept eyeing him, ready to break the possible fight.

So, according to his sister in went like this:

Zuko was sitting on a table, alone minding his own business when Katara went, and scared the shit out of him, “You have to order something for you to sit here.”

Aang later told Sokka that Zuko’s face was for a second of happiness, and then it turned out into a mixture of pout and sadness, “Katara, it’s good seeing you here.”

Katara narrated how she screamed at him, “I don’t want to see your pathetic face here, why you don’t run with your father?”

That’s when Sokka interrupted his sister, “You told him what?”

“To go back with his father.”

Which was low, because yes, what Zuko did in highschool was rude but that was a low blow, “You told the guy who’s dad burned his face, who spent a long time waiting for his approval and practically ruined his life to do what?”

Katara did look ashamed for a split second, but retorted anyways, “He abandoned you without an explanation.”

And of course Sokka knew, he was the one who spent almost three months laying on his bed wondering why he wasn’t enough for Zuko, why his boyfriend left him without even breaking up. “And? That’s my fight, Katara, not yours!”

She frowned, “He is not even here and no we’re fighting because of him.”

Sokka hit the table with his palms, out of frustration more than anger, “No Katara, we’re fighting because you shouldn’t fight my battles that took place over five years ago, because no matter how angry or mad you are, you never attack a person on battle wounds.”

He left in the middle of his shift and went directly to his apartment. He logically knew that Katara meant well, but it was all over the situation where she took a role that wasn’t hers.

It wasn’t until he came out of a hot steaming shower and grabbed his phone that he realized some things. He owned Yue a shift, since she covered his after he stormed out fuming.

And that he had three missed calls from Toph.

Without even thinking he dialed her number, hoping it was just her dramatic ways and not something important. For some reason he didn’t understand, it was always Toph the one who break bad news to him, so his reasons to be nervous were on point.

He heard three beeps on the other side of the line before the earthbender picked up her phone, and without missing a beat she said, “I was the one who told Zuko where you work, he needs to tell you something.”

So, her dramatic ways, apparently.

It took him a moment to understand what was happening, “What?”

He heard how Toph coughed on the other side, he guessed either Aang or Suki was with her forcing her to come out clean, “Yeah, I-Huh,” she cleaned her throat, “We’ve been talking for a couple of months, and he said he wanted to tell you what really happened five years ago, so I told him to man up and to do it.”

“Why?”

“Cuz you’re both assholes who have been suffering for five years?”

“No, I mean…” He laid on his bed, the wet towel still on his hair, “Why are you still talking to him?”

“He’s still my friend, and y’know, us rich disinherit kids stick with each other.” Sokka knew that for Toph, it still hurt how much their parents overprotection lingered on her, so he understood. Not in a direct way, of course not, but in a I was there when everything happened and I’m your friend way

“Oh.”

“Yeah, he’s still an idiot when it comes to communication though.”

“Yeah, he is.”

Sokka definitely didn’t went to Zuko’s Instagram and Facebook, he was smarter than that.

Except he was smart, but he was still a man who loved gossip, so putting aside his mental health he purposely went to Zuko’s pages. He found four main important things.

A. Uncle Iroh was still around, and god did Sokka’s heart relaxed at that. That man was pure gold. Iroh posted a photo of himself and Zuko a month ago. They were both smiling, Iroh broadly as always and Zuko with a shy but genuine smile. Behind them there was a small house. B. There were photos (two of them) of a small child and a woman who looked like Azula, but older. C. He was still in contact with Mai and Ty Lee, which wasn’t relevant to be honest. D. He didn’t seem to have any relationship, and for some reason his heart did a small flip at that.

He was lost on his thoughts when he noticed his gloomy ex sitting on the sidewalk in front of the shop. Katara would say that what he did next was without thinking, but they were mad at each other right now, so her opinion didn’t count.

So he flipped the “Open/Close” sign and went to sit next to him.

“Gathering courage?” He asked as he sat down, grabbing his phone to pretend he was busy.

He heard the firebender laughing, “Kinda. You see, five years ago I made a mistake and I’ve been trying to talk to him, but apparently I’m still as socially awkward as I was five years ago…”

“You hair got longer.”

Zuko snorted, “I’m sorry, for real.”

Sokka wanted to say something but it got lost when he decided to kiss Zuko right there.

Sokka decided that Zuko wasn’t ready to tell him everything, just the my mom wasn’t really death and when she came back Ozai tried to kill her, so we had to run away was enough for Sokka to stop and rethink everything. Even Katara, was ashamed when Zuko told them (again, not all the story).

Zuko was sitting on a small couch inside the coffeeshop, once again without ordering something, “You need to order something in order to sit here.” Sokka said, as a joke when his shift was over.

“Ozai died last year.” Zuko said instead and that took Sokka by surprise.

“That’s rough, buddy.” He found himself saying, and for some reason it was okay.

Zuko was sitting on a chair near the counter, reading an essay on economics for his class. Sokka dropped a soft kiss on his hair, “Zuko I have a question for you.”

“Mmm?”

“You never order a thing, why?”

Zuko look up and stared into his eyes, “I don’t like giving you orders.”

Sokka burst into laughter, and decided to buy his boyfriend a jasmine tea, after all it was Zuko’s comfort drink.

---

Thank you so much for reading, yes I finished writing and editing this at 3:30 am, so points for effort, i guess? I won’t tag anyone but Roz cuz this is not my main fandom (for now) so I won’t spam y’all.

Thanks again for comissioning me!

#yuna's fic #Avatar The Last Airbender #atla #atla fic #zukka #sokka x zuko #aang #zuko #katara #sokka #toph #yue #idk how to tag in this fandom y'all

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write-havoc · 6 years

Text

This Is How I Disappear Ch. 39

Summary: A girl named Chuck finds herself in the exact place she doesn't want to be, living with violent men in a desolate nursing home. After her former gym teacher finds her, will he be the savior she was looking for?

Fandom: The Walking Dead AU

Pairing: Negan/Original Female Character

Status: Completed (story continues in The Flame Is Gone, The Fire Remains)

Contains: swearing, violence, sexual assault, blood, smut

Intended for readers 18+ of age only

Masterlists in my bio

Chuck lets out a sigh as she and Simon wait in Negan’s office for him to get there. Simon is leaning on Negan’s desk, staring at Chuck with an odd expression on his face as she paces the room. Feeling his gaze, she gives him a quick glance and then looks away when she meets his eyes.

Moments later when she looks back at him, and he’s still staring at her, she speaks up. “What?”

“What, what?”

“You’re staring at me.”

“Sorry.” He looks away. “It’s just... You’re okay, right?”

She lets out a huff. “I’m fine. I’m not gonna break down or anything,” she mutters in frustration.

“Okay.” He stands up from the desk.

“So stop looking at me like you’re waiting for me to freak out.”

“I’m not-“ He shakes his head and holds his hands out in a placating way. “Okay, kiddo. Sorry.”

Both of their heads turn to the doorway as Negan walks through it. Chuck‘s eyes immediately go to Negan’s hands, which are splotched with blood. His pants are smeared with it as well, but Chuck tries not to stare.

Negan sets Lucille on his desk and turns to Simon. “Go downstairs and see that that fuck gets strung up by the gate. I wanna see that fucker every time I leave.”

“You’re putting him on the fence?” Chuck asks quietly.

Negan turns his head to her. “You okay with that?” he asks genuinely.

She thinks a moment. She’s not sure if she really wants to see undead Brendon close up. But, then again, she probably wouldn’t ever see him if he’s by the gate. Since Negan doesn’t ever want her to leave.

“Um. Yeah. That’s- He-“ She clears her throat. “That’s part of the punishment, right?”

“Yeah, baby girl. It is.”

Chuck lets out a breath. “Then I’m okay with it.”

Negan looks to Simon and gives him a nod.

Simon nods back. “Okay, then.” He squeezes Chuck’s shoulder reassuringly as he walks past her to leave.

“Wait,” Negan calls out and Simon stops just before the door. Negan takes his leather jacket off and hands it to him. “Give this to laundry. I want it fuckin’ cleaned and back up here in an hour.”

Simon takes the jacket and nods. “Sure thing, brother.”

After Simon leaves, Negan gives Chuck a long look and lets out a sigh. “I need a fuckin’ shower before I do anything else.” He looks down at his bloody hands and tries to wipe the drying liquid off on his pants.

“Okay.” Chuck wants to talk to him right now. She wants to tell him that she saw what he did and that she’s okay with it. That he doesn’t have to try to hide it from her. But she also wants to ask him if he’s okay with it. She knows that he’s killed many people before, but it still has to affect him in some way. And he’s not very good at talking about his emotions on his own.

She watches him go into the bathroom and close the door partway like he usually does. He has a bad habit of leaving the door ajar, or completely open while he’s in there.

She tries her hardest to be patient and wait for Negan to come back out to talk, but she can’t. She pushes the door open slowly and shuts it behind herself.

“I hope that’s you, Chuck.” Negan calls out from the shower over the sound of the water splashing down by his feet.

“It’s me,” she responds.

“Don’t flush while I’m running the water.”

“I-I don’t need to use the toilet.”

“Then what are you doing in here? Are you hoping to get an eyeful of my big dick, little girl?” he teases.

She giggles a little, but she’s still nervous about talking to Negan about what happened with Brendon. “I just wanted to see if you’re okay. You know... after everything that went on today.”

“I’m great!” he calls out. “Really fuckin’ great. You don’t have to worry about me, baby girl.”

“Okay. That’s good,” she starts hesitantly. “But, um...” She clears her throat. “I, uh... When me and Simon left to come up here, uh... I didn’t... come up here. I watched what you did to Brendon from the window in the second floor rec room. So I kinda know what you did.”

Negan doesn’t say anything for a moment which makes Chuck even more nervous. And the frosted glass of the shower obscures Negan’s face from her, so she can’t see his expression.

“I didn’t want you to see that,” he finally says.

“I wanted to see it. I mean, I’m glad I didn’t see it up close, but... I wanted to know that he was gone.”

“Goddamnit, Chuck,” he mutters to himself. “You shouldn’t see that shit at all.”

“Why not? Everyone else saw it. I’m no different-“

“Yes you are!” he cuts her off. “Or at least you fuckin’ should be. Especially if I can fuckin’ help it.” He turns the water off and shoves the door open.

Chuck pulls the towel off the rack and hands it to him, blushing a little at the sight of Negan’s naked body.

“See what I mean? We’ve been fucking... You’re three months pregnant with my kid, for Christ’s sake, and you still blush when I get my dick out.” He rubs the towel over his hair and body before wrapping it around his waist. “I don’t want that shit to change.” He brushes his fingers over her warm cheek. “I don’t want the ugly shit in this world to seep into you like it has everyone else. Because you’re my sweetheart. And I want you to fuckin’ stay that way.”

She leans up to give him a sweet kiss on the cheek. “I’m not changing any time soon.”

He wraps his arms around her and pulls her into him. “Good.” He kisses her neck, causing her to giggle. “You ready for this party?” He leans back up to look at her face.

“Yeah. I mean, I’ve never really liked parties, but...” She shrugs.

“Whenever you want to leave, just fuckin’ tell me.”

“Okay.”

Negan finishes getting dressed and ready for the party, making sure Lucille is clean and oiled, too. When the laundry worker comes up with his leather jacket looking nice and pristine, he and Chuck head downstairs to the cafeteria walking hand in hand.

Chuck can hear the celebration coming from the cafeteria long before she and Negan get to the doorway. “Jeez. It sounds like people are having a good time already,” she states with some nervousness. She knows she’s going to have to walk around all those people in there. And on Negan’s arm, no less, which means all eyes will be on them.

Negan chuckles. “Guarantee everyone’s gone through those free fuckin’ drinks already. They don’t fuck around when they have the occasion to have a good time.” He looks down at her, noticing the way that she’s biting her lip. “Don’t worry, baby girl. You’ll be fine.”

As soon as the pair can be seen through the open doorway, someone calls out, “Negan’s here!” jovially. Everyone’s heads turn towards the pair and they all start to kneel.

Chuck squeezes Negan’s hand and looks up at him to try to calm her self a little. Having so much attention on her has her heart beating fast in her chest.

Negan gives her a wink then holds his head up high. “It looks like y’all are having a good ass time! Which is fuckin’ great because this is a good. ass. day! Not only did we put down a bad motherfucker that had no right breathing the same air as you fine people,” he puts his hand on Chuck’s stomach, “but we’re celebrating the announcement of my wife’s pregnancy!” He kisses Chuck’s head then looks back out to the room. “So get the fuck up and celebrate!”

Everyone rises and starts to applaud and cheer. As Negan and Chuck meander through the crowd still hand and hand, Chuck sees the happiness on everyone’s faces as they call out their congratulations on their pregnancy.

“God bless you and Negan!” an older woman calls out to Chuck as she holds her hand out to her.

Unsure of what to do, Chuck takes the woman’s hand and holds in in her own. “Thank you, ma’am,” she says genuinely.

“Oh, thank you!” The woman brings Chuck’s hand to her cheek and pats it lovingly. “Thank you!”

The woman lets go and the pair make their way to a small empty table set up just for them at the front of the room facing all the other tables. As they take their seats, everyone else does, too.

“Why was that woman thanking me?” Chuck whispers to Negan. “I didn’t do anything.”

Negan places his hand on her stomach. “Babies mean a future. You’re giving these people hope.” He chuckles. “And these people love the fuck outta me. This baby is my heir. So they love the fuck outta it, too. And you’re making all that happen.” He kisses her sweetly as if to punctuate his point.

Once everyone is situated at the tables, kitchen workers pour out of the kitchen and start to serve dinner, starting with Negan and Chuck.

“Thank you,” Chuck says politely to the teenage girl that serves her.

The girl looks up to her and gives a surprised smile, like she wasn’t expecting to be thanked. “Y-you’re welcome, miss.”

When everyone is finished with dinner, workers come out and clear the dishes. Chuck thanks the same young girl again and receives another genuine smile.

Negan stands from his table. “I want all you people to have fuckin’ fun tonight! We have games, music, and of course, booze! For those of you that haven’t burned through those free drinks, yet.” Everyone laughs. “Someone get some fuckin’ poker games going, cuz I am all about that shit!”

The residents start to mill around, going from table to table to find just what they want to do to entertain themselves.

Negan turns to Chuck. “I’m going to the bar to grab a drink. You gonna come with?”

“Nah,” Chuck answers and stands from her chair. “I think I’m just gonna look around. Maybe I can get into some sorta game myself.”

“Alright.” He kisses her then moves his mouth to her ear. “My guys know to look out for you,” he whispers.

She pulls back to look at him. “You told them to guard me? Like a security detail?” She gives him a little smirk showing him that she’s not exactly upset, but not exactly happy with that news.

“Fuck yes, I told them to guard you,” he responds with a little chuckle. “These assholes are probably gonna be drunk as fuck pretty damn quick. So I requested some of my guys stay fuckin’ sober and keep their eyes on you, just in case someone gets rowdy around you.”

She gives him a look and lets out a huff, knowing that there’s no point in trying to fight him on it. “Okay.”

He leans in close to her. “That’s my good girl,” he whispers into her mouth then kisses her, slow and passionate.

The kiss makes Chuck forget that she’s in a room with every single one of The Sanctuary’s residents. That is, until one of them lets out a wolf whistle.

“Are you trying to get her more pregnant, sir?” a young savior calls out with a laugh.

Negan pulls away from Chuck and laughs himself. “Shit, son!” He walks around the table and moves toward the savior. “If that’s how you think fuckin’ babies are made then we are in dire need of some sex ed around here!”

Everyone within earshot joins in with the joking. Despite the fact that Chuck’s ears are burning and her cheeks are red, she laughs, too.

When Negan walks off to get his drink at the little bar that was set up for the occasion, Chuck wanders around, watching people play games at the tables. She sees a few saviors keeping their eyes on her, but they’re doing a good job at not being too intrusive.

“Miss?” a gentle voice comes out from behind Chuck.

Chuck turns around to see the teenage girl that served her dinner. In her hands are a glass of ice and a pitcher of lemonade. “Hello,” Chuck greets.

“Would you like some lemonade?” the server asks sweetly. The skinny girl couldn’t have been older than fifteen, with sandy blonde hair pulled up in a ponytail.

“Yes, please. That sounds awesome.”

The girl pours the drink into the glass and hands it to Chuck.

“Thank you.” Chuck takes a gulp of the sweet beverage and lets out a little moan. “Oh, that’s good! Did you make it?”

The girl smiles shyly. “Yes.” She shrugs one shoulder. “Well, I made it from a mix.”

“Nicole!” A woman stomps toward the girl and looks at Chuck apologetically. “I’m sorry, miss.” She looks to the girl. “What did I tell you about talking with them? She doesn’t want you bothering her.”

“It’s okay, mom. She’s nice,” Nicole explains to the woman.

The woman doesn’t look convinced and turns back to Chuck. “I’m so sorry, miss. This is her first job here and she’s never been around a wife before.” The woman tries to pull the girl away, but Chuck stops her.

“No, wait! It’s okay,” Chuck responds quickly. “I don’t mind her talking to me.”

The woman turns back to Chuck with a look of confusion on her face.

“And you don’t have to call me ‘miss’. You can just call me Chuck.” Chuck holds her hand out to properly meet the woman.

She shakes Chuck’s hand tentatively. “I’m Julie. And this is my daughter Nicole.”

“It’s nice to meet you guys.”

Chuck talks with the pair for a few minutes before they have to get back to work in the kitchen. She looks around as they leave and sees that there are many other residents who were watching her interactions with the mother and daughter. She smiles at them and walks to the bar to set her empty glass down.

After walking around and taking more congratulations from workers and saviors alike, Chuck sees a group of guys setting up instruments, complete with an electric drum kit. Chuck figures that real drums would be way too loud, even with how big the Sanctuary is. Her eyes skim past the other instruments and land on a vintage Fender Stratocaster set up beside the microphone.

There is no way I’m passing that up. That is my dream guitar and I’m going to play it.

Chuck walks over to the guys and clears her throat. “That’s an awesome guitar.”

The guy closest to her turns and gives her a look. Like he doesn’t want her there. “That’s my awesome guitar.”

She can’t help but sneer a little back at his snotty tone. “Can I play it?” she asks politely despite the fact that he doesn’t really deserve it.

The guy looks around, Chuck figures to see how far away Negan is. “Look, wife-number-whatever, this ain’t a guitar for beginners, okay? It would be offensive to all the truly great musicians that have used a guitar like this to let someone like you put your fingers on it.” He gives her a smug grin.

Chuck goes right past offended and straight to angry at what the guy said. But she doesn’t say anything. She just picks the guitar up, knowing that no one would actually touch her, and swings the strap around her shoulder. She grabs a pick from the microphone stand and strums the guitar once to check the tuning. She turns the amp on and starts to play the opening riff to the song that has been stuck in her head all day for some reason. Unholy Confessions by Avenged Sevenfold.

When she finishes the riff, she looks to the guy with a smug grin of her own. “Sorry for offending you.” She starts to take the guitar off, but the guy standing by the drum set speaks up.

“Hey, wait. We know that song. Keep playing.” He sits down at his drums and the other men pick up their guitar and bass respectively to play.

“What?!” the first guitarist calls out. “You’re gonna play with her?”

“She’s better than you, dude,” the guitarist to her right answers. “You sing?” he asks her.

“Yeah. I can sing.”

The drummer counts down and the quartet starts to play the heavy rock song. By the time the chorus hits, a crowd of people are congregating around them, listening to them play.

Chuck scans the room as she sings and finds Negan sitting at a table playing poker. But his eyes are on her. She smiles at him as she plays her favorite part in the song.

When they finish the song, everyone claps and cheers.

“I’ve never seen a pregnant chick rock so hard,” the bassist comments.

Chuck giggles. “I’m rocking for two now,” she chortles.

The guys around her laugh. “You’re not at all like I thought one of Negan’s wives would be,” the drummer adds.

Chuck shrugs her shoulders and hands the guitar back to its owner. “I’m just me, I guess. Thanks for playing with me.” She walks away with a little wave, headed for Negan’s table.

As soon as Chuck gets to Negan, he wraps his arms around her and pulls her to sit across his lap. “Negan!” she squeaks.

Everyone at the table chuckles and it makes Chuck’s cheeks turn red.

“I liked the song you played,” Fat Joey says to Chuck.

“Oh. Thank you.”

“Yeah. Where’d you learn to play like that?” another savior Chuck remembers as TJ asks.

Chuck shrugs. “I’ve just always played.”

“My girl’s fuckin’ talented as shit!” Negan kisses her temple and lays down his hand. “Full house!”

“Dammit!” Arat throws her cards on the table. “It’s impossible playing with you!”

“Sorry, sister!” Negan laughs. “You wanna get my chips for me, baby girl?” he asks Chuck with a smirk.

Chuck leans forward so she can gather Negan’s winnings and swipes them into his large pile.

“Such a sweetheart for me,” Negan rasps almost under his breath and runs his hand up her thigh.

“You’re embarrassing me,” Chuck whispers to him with a little smile to try to hide her blushing cheeks.

Negan raises his eyebrows. “Because of them?” he says a little too loudly as he gestures to the people at the table.

“I’m sure they don’t want to see all this.”

“They don’t give a shit, Chuck.”

Chuck looks around the table and sees that everyone there is barely paying attention to her and Negan, too focused on their cards.

As the game progresses and Chuck still sits with Negan, she finds herself participating in their conversations.

“So, how far are you, Chuck?” Laura, the savior with the neck tattoo asks.

“Thirteen weeks.”

Laura smiles and it catches Chuck off guard. The woman is rather harsh looking, but the smile softens her considerably. “The second trimester is easier than the first. You’re in for some smooth sailing until the third trimester. Then things get shitty again.”

“You have children?” Chuck asks.

Laura throws her chips in and answers. “A little boy. Niko. He’s four and crazy as fuck.”

Everyone chuckles. Apparently they are familiar with Laura’s kid.

“If you guys have a girl,” Fat Joey directs to Chuck and Negan, “maybe she’ll get with Niko.” He laughs.

“Jesus Christ!” Negan yells. “I don’t want to fuckin’ think about any possible girls of mine getting with fuckin’ anyone! Shit! Gonna give me a damn heart attack already!”

Chuck giggles as everyone laughs, too.

“What if it’s a boy?” Arat jumps in. “Bet you won’t have any problems with him getting with any girls, right?”

Negan narrows his eyes at Arat.

“She has a point.” Chuck pats Negan’s chest.

“Fine, fine. I get it. Sexism.” Negan lets out a huff and looks to Chuck. “I’m gonna teach our sons to be respectful as fuck, so you won’t have to worry about them mistreating anyone. But you know our daughters are gonna be beautiful as fuck and you can’t count on people raising their sons as good as we will. You’re gonna be shooing those boys away, too, just like me.”

Chuck can’t help but smile as she looks down at Negan. “Sons? And daughters?”

“Well yeah,” he answers gently and puts his hand on her stomach. “This one’s just the first.”

Chuck sits with Negan for a while longer before she has to excuse herself to use the restroom. When she comes back in, she walks by a table playing Trivial Pursuit. The boys playing look to be in their late teens, but one boy looks a bit younger. And he’s not doing so well at the game.

The boy moves his piece and lands on the pink pie space.

“Ooo! Let’s see if Jack can get his first pie!” another boy teases and picks up the card to read off the question. “Which unlikely hit won the Academy Award for best picture in 1992?”

The boys all seem to notice Chuck standing by them at the same time and quiet down. Like they were just caught doing something they shouldn’t by a teacher.

Chuck leans down to the youngest boy and whispers in his ear, “Silence of the Lambs.”

The boy looks back up to her with confusion on his face.

“The answer,” Chuck clarifies quietly.

“Uh.” The boy turns back to the question asker. “S-Silence of the Lambs.”

The other teenager flips the card over to check the answer. “Correct.”

The boy happily picks up his pie piece and puts it in his pie. He looks up to Chuck with pink cheeks. “Thank you.”

Chuck smiles back down to him making his cheeks redden even more. “You’re welcome.”

Negan suddenly comes up from behind them and leans on the back of the boy’s chair. “You trying to steal my wife from me, Jack?”

“N-No, sir!” he quickly answers.

Negan laughs. “I’m just fuckin’ with you kid! But I am gonna have to steal my wife away.”

Negan takes Chuck’s hand and leads her away to an open part of the room. He turns around to face her, still holding her left hand in his right, and wraps his free left arm around her waist, pulling her close.

“What are you doing, Negan?” She wraps her free hand around his shoulder.

He brings her hand up, holding it out with his and starts to sway with her.

She instantly looks down at her feet to try to keep from stepping on his toes.

“Look up, sweetheart. You can’t look at your feet while we dance.”

She looks up. “You know I’m horrible at dancing. How am I supposed to know where to step if I can’t see my feet?”

“You just gotta feel it,” he answers with a smirk.

“I thought you said you don’t dance anyway.” She steps on his left foot. “Oops. Sorry.”

Negan lets out a soft breath. “I didn’t think I’d ever dance like this again,” he replies quietly.

Chuck understands what he’s saying. She’s sure that the last person he actually danced with was probably Lucille. And that he most likely never thought he’d care about another woman enough to be so intimate with her.

She smiles up at him, but it drops when she steps on his foot again. “Shoot! Sorry. I’m not good at this.”

“Stand on my feet,” he requests.

“Like a six year old?” she jokes.

He chuckles. “Just do it.”

Chuck kicks her heels off and stands on his feet. “Better?” She giggles.

Negan squeezes her into him more. “Better.”

She leans her head back a little to look at his face. “I think we need to start getting ready for the baby. I mean, we don’t have a nursery or anything.”

He inhales deeply then lets it out. “Yeah. I think we can knock out a doorway in my room to the room beside or something. I’ll get some guys on it.”

“We need furniture, too. A crib, changing table, a chair for nursing.”

His lips curl up into a smile. “I can get all that.”

Chuck can’t help but smile, too. “Good.” She turns her head to rest her cheek on his shoulder. Even the stares of all the people around her can’t force the smile off her face.

#negan #negan fanfiction #negans thirst squad #negan x oc #negan x original female character #negan x ofc #negan / ofc #negan / oc #negan / original female character #jdm #jeffrey dean morgan #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead au #the walking dead #this is how i disappear #tihid #writehavoc writes #writehavoc this is how i disappear

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