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the-mykie-show · 5 years

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The Good, The Bad, and The Dirty (NeganxJustice) chapter 2.

With his marriage to Lucille falling apart, Negan finds love in the most unexpected place. The kind of love that he never thought he'd find again, the kind that makes him want to make the world a better place for her. Thus a savior is born.

*warnings: Negan's potty mouth, cancer, hospitals, discussion of sexual assault, strip clubs, stalking, beating up assholes*

Chapter 2: taking out the trash

The money ran out a lot faster than I thought it would.

Even with halfway decent insurance cancer treatments were expensive. I ended up taking another job, it took me away from Lucille more but it paid for the treatments and the bills and that was all that mattered for now.

I saw Justice at the hospital quite often.

Always in the cancer ward, or the cafeteria.

I didn't get up the courage to talk to her until we ended up alone at the coffee station one day.

“Hey…” I awkwardly acknowledged her. She just nodded in response.

“Are you okay…. from the other week.”

“Yeah, I'm fine.” her tone was clipped and cold.

“Has he left you alone?”

“Yes, I am fine.”

“I didn't tell anyone, just so you know.” why did I feel so oddly threatened by this women? She was probably 5 foot tall and weighed 100 pounds.

“I appreciate that.” she sounded a little less pissed off at me… At the world as she stirred her coffee with a little plastic stick.

“So I see you here a lot.” I commented, fishing for information about her.

“Yeah, my sister is in treatments. She has cancer.”

“So does my wife.” I didn't fucking think that one through, she's going to think I'm a disgusting human being now, going to the strip club while my wife dies of cancer, who does shit like that? Granted I didn't know Lucille was sick when I was going to watch her dance every week, but she didn't know that.

“I'm sorry.”

“I am too,for your sister… And for what happened to you.”

She shrugged “it's an occupational hazard, most dancers deal with sexual harassment from clients, especially in the kind of joint I work from. I'm lucky it wasn't worse.” that's fucking sad.

“Do you only dance to pay for the cancer treatments?” I hoped asking her that wasn't too much.

“No, I've always been a dancer, got my first job at 18, it use to be because I liked it, and I use to work in more reputable places. But this is the best hospital in the state and that is the only club near here that pays well enough. So I took what I could get.”

“I'm sorry, that's rough.”

She shrugged and smiled a sad little smile “yeah, but I'll make it through. I always do.”

That night I decided I didn't really didn't need to eat anything that wasn't hospital food and I went to the club and gave Justice the money. I didn't even stay for her performance, just threw a hundred dollars on the stage and walked out. But I decided to wait in the parking lot and have a cigarette.

I hadn't smoked in years, but apparently I'd gotten so desperate to connect with Lucille again that I was willing to give myself cancer too so we'd have something in common.

I was a dumbass.

I light up and stash the cigarettes back in my jacket pocket. And that's when I see that little fucker from the hospital waiting by the back door of the club. The door the dancers used.

That little fucker.

“I thought I made myself crystal fucking clear what I would do to your ass if you came anywhere near her again?” the little turd visibly gulped when he recognized my voice.

“What, was attempted rapist not enough? You just had to add stalker to your resume too? Bet that looks awesome on a medical school application.”

“Why don't you mind your own business? What I've got going on with her is none of your concern.”

“None of my concern? I think a soon to be fully minted doctor being the type of man would sexually assault someone is everyone's concern. And her being a stripper doesn't change shit, I don't care if she was a $25 hooker, or your goddamn wife, no means no, you piece of shit.”

“Fuck off, man. Are you screwing her? That why you care so much?”

I answer by punching him in the face.

He spits blood on the ground laughs.

“that's what I thought. She a good lay? She looks like she is, whore like her is probably pretty loose though.” I hit him so hard he passes out. He swayed and fell over almost comically, it looked liked something out of a cartoon.

I decide it's a good idea to throw the little fucker in the dumpster out back. Either he wakes up in a pile of used cum towels and empty liquor bottles or a trash compactor. Either is good with me. He's surprisingly heavy for a little guy, so it takes me a few minutes to get him wedged in there properly.

By the time I do I see Justice making her way out of the club, dressed in normal clothes with a gym bag slung over her shoulder. She holds out a set of car keys and presses the button on the fob and I hear a sad sounding beep and see a dull flash of light.

“Shit!” I hear Justice groan.

She's standing in broken glass next to a beat up Dodge Charger that's been completely trashed. All the windows are broken out, all four tires slashed, headlights and taillights smashed, paint scratched all to hell, interior ripped apart. There's a Louisville slugger on the ground a few feet away from the trashed car.

This had to be that little fucker in the dumpster's doing.

Justice shook her head and turned and walked away from the car towards the street, was she going to walk home? How far away did she live? It was 30 degrees outside for Christ's sakes.

My mouth worked faster than my brain, like always. “Do you need a ride?” I called out.

She stared at me skeptically, almost as if she deciding how sure she was that I wasn't a serial killer.

“I'm not a serial killer, I promise.”

“Yeah, that's definitely not something a serial killer would say.” I had to hand it to the girl, she was keeping in good spirits about the whole situation. “Sure, I'll take my chances with that ride, since you're allegedly not going to chop me up with a chainsaw.”

“Allegedly so, yeah.”

“You got any idea who did this?” she asked.

“Yep, probably that douchebag resident from the hospital. It seems you have a stalker.”

“He was here?” she seems genuinely scared, which was probably a good thing. This psycho had not only assaulted her, he'd now destroyed her car.

“Waiting by the door, probably waiting for you to come out and see his handy work.” hopefully that was all he was waiting for.

“Shit. Guess I'm going to the police station tomorrow. Maybe if I don't tell them what I do for a living they'll help.”

“Does your job really matter?”

She nods “you'd be surprised. Technically I'm in the sex industry even if I don't actually sleep with anyone from the club. You ever watched a crime show on TV where they talked about “high risk lifestyle”? Well I'm what they mean by that.”

What the fuck is wrong with society?

“That's fucked up and unfair.”

“Yeah, life is fucked up and unfair buddy.” she had a point.

“That sick asshole even used my baseball bat to do it.” she says picking up the bat off the ground.

“Do you play?”

“Play what?”

“Baseball.”

“Oh, no. It's for self defense. High risk lifestyle, remember?” she props the bat up on her shoulder and swaggers away from the destroyed car. I've never been more afraid of a woman, or aroused like I was watching that.

“So where you parked.” she takes a picture of my license plate on her phone and rapidly texts to someone. Smart woman.

“Would you like to see my drivers license too?” to my surprise she says yes, I give it to her dumbfounded. I'm putty in this woman's hands.

She gets in, and immediately changes the radio to a punk rock station, sits her stuff in the floorboard, her water bottle and phone go into the cup holders, and she's made herself at home in my car.

“Where is that asshole anyway.” She asks putting on her seat belt.

“I threw him in the dumpster around back.” it's her turn to look dumbfounded now.

Ask to join the tag list to be notified whenever I update.

Tagging: @negans-network

#negan #twd negan #negan's thrist squad #negan fanfiction #negan fic #the walking dead negan #twd fanfic #twd fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #The walking dead #the walking dead fandom #twd family #twd fandom

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lilmissmousey · 7 years

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Stirrings (Denial (AKA: this is sooooo not a date prologue)

Bzzt.

Vegeta’s fingers stilled over his laptop keys, eyes sliding to his now illuminated phone screen.

It was her, “Hey hot stuff. What you doin’? ;)”

He grunted, rubbing the tired eyelids under his glasses. Vulgar woman. Had she no shame? He’d only been working at Capsule Corp for less than six months and she was already way to friendly. Didn’t she know he had better things to do? Like, hm, save their asses from a lawsuit recently filed by a rival company? Vegeta knew he should just ignore her, go back to typing and try to not think about aqua-colored eyes and slender legs, but Bulma Briefs was persistent.

The phone buzzed again: “I have sandwiches.”

“Why do I keep doing this to myself?” Vegeta wondered as he hit the elevator button to the lab. He shouldn’t give into her. He had way more productive shit to do than entertain a spoiled heiress. The song playing over the loud speaker was some kind of grating pop music, and it did not help in quelling his agitation. Huffing, he shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and leaned against the elevator wall. At least the dress code at Capsule Corp was lax. Suits were itchy.

The numbers flashing the descent of the elevator into the lower levels of Capsule Corp mocked him. Bulma’s private lab was in the basement, far away from the prying eyes of the other scientists employed here. While the “regular” people worked on mundane everyday things, Bulma’s work was top secret and hidden behind numerous keypads and doors. Every time he made the trip to the lab under her request he’d feel the increasing amount of nausea and primal surge to run as far away as he possibly could. Feelings were horrible, unnecessary things that only got in the way-

The elevator doors slid open, and there she stood, sub sandwiches in hand and beaming at him.

There was always that cliche moment in films where time stood still, the handsome protagonist locking eyes with a beautiful woman from across the room. The both of them knowing instinctively that this person would change their world forever. For Vegeta, this had happened the first time he’d ever met her.

And it only got worse every time she’d cross his path.

The air around elevator was heavy; Bulma was covered in grease, long blue hair piled on top of her head and held in place with a pen. Her lab coat was stained and open revealing a black tank top and blue denim shorts. She was a vision, the perfect woman…

Which is why Vegeta scowled and snatched the sandwich out of her hand, brushing past her shoulder and not giving her a second glance as he powered towards the lab door.

He heard her huff in agitation, her footsteps echoing in the hall behind him as she struggled to keep up with his longer strides, “UM, you’re welcome!”

“I didn’t ask you to buy me lunch.” He grumbled, still walking forward and already ripping into the wax paper keeping him from the sandwich.

A low whistle came from her direction. Vegeta paused, turning around with an annoyed stare.

Bulma was surprisingly close to him, within arms reach and she waggled her eyebrows suggestively, “I hate it when you go, but I love watching you leave. You should wear jeans more often.”

“Wha-damnit woman I’m going to sue you for sexual harassment!” Vegeta felt his cheeks flame red, “why do you insist on being so pervy? Have you no shame?”

Bulma laughed, “Not when it comes to you!” She reached up and gently pulled the glasses from his face, putting them on instead, “I didn’t know you wore glasses!”

Left eye twitching, he took back the eyewear and tucked them into his breast pocket, “Not that it’s any of your business, but my eyes get tired cleaning up all the messes around here.”

“Pffft,” Bulma rolled her eyes, walking past Vegeta and tapping her code into the keypad, “What I was going to say is that they make you look smart.”

“Well, of course they-Hey!”

Bulma giggled, waving him inside the lab, “Hurry up grumpy. I’m starving.”

He devoured the first sandwich within moments of settling himself on the swivel chair near Bulma’s desk, she already handing him a second one. She knew well enough by now that despite Vegeta’s shorter stature that he could eat anyone under the table. He’d had Ju Jitsu practice the night before and his hunger was especially fierce today.

Bulma’s own sandwich lay unattended beside her, still primly wrapped as she pulled a pencil out of her coat pocket and carefully followed the lines of the ruler she had placed against a large blueprint nearly engulfing her whole workspace. Vegeta chewed thoughtfully, eyes narrowed as he watched her work, “What’s that?” He asked around the mouthful.

“Hm? Oh, I made the modulator in the space pod too small. It wont accept the amount of wires needed to actually propel the dumb thing. I’m just adjusting the pod accordingly.” She continued to measure, her firm bare calves teasing him as she shifted footing.

“Hmpf, some genius.” He teased.

“Hey bucko,” Bulma wagged the pencil at him, still not looking in his direction, “it’s beautiful, stunning, amazing genius to you. And don’t you forget it.” she went back to the blueprint, getting absorbed into her work.

Vegeta was only slightly irritated. If she wasn’t going to engage with him, then why was he even here? She could have easily dropped the sandwiches off at his office, but no. Instead he was sitting in near silence watching the prodigy of Capsule Corp doodle. He had at least three pending lawsuits against this crazy company he had to deal with, and being treated like a personal assistant was definitely not in his job description. The anger within him was building, threatening to end his patience then and there until…

…She smiled at him.

He hadn’t caught her staring, didn’t even realize that she had stopped working to watch him.

Bulma tilted her head, a free tendril of aqua hair escaping her messy bun and brushing down her slender neck, “What?” She asked. Heart thundering, and before he could stop himself, Vegeta reached out and tucked that wayward lock of hair behind her ear. Bulma blinked, cheeks flushing an obscenely pretty shade of pink.

Clearing his throat, Vegeta crossed his arms across his broad expanse of chest and glared at the floor, “It was pissing me off,” he grumbled, “the hair, I mean. I’m going to buy you some proper hair clips so that way you don’t look like a damn mess. It’s a health hazard around here anyways.”

“O-oh,” Bulma smiled, “don’t worry about it. I’ve uh, got plenty of them at home. Thanks though. Nice to know you care.”

“I don’t!” Vegeta barked, surprising himself with his own level of volume, “It just, its-”

The damn woman snickered, shaking her head. That same tendril of hair came loose, almost taunting him to touch it again, “Whatever you say hot stuff.” She smiled at him again, and she went back to her blueprint, once again getting lost in her own mind.

How did he not piss her off? How did she even stand to be in his presence? There was a reason Vegeta was alone; and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t his fault most of the time. Now there was this beautiful woman (incredibly out of his league) who not only put up with his permanently aloof attitude, but had gotten him this job. He’d owned his own law firm, but it was really just a small studio in a shitty area of town. Business usually consisted of petty crimes and at least attempting to get reduced sentences for the scum of society. It really didn’t matter to Vegeta who he was representing as long as it paid the bills. He’d been called in for a gang deposition for the Icejin gang and somehow Bulma had heard about him from there. He was called into her fancy office wearing a second hand suit and had wanted to melt into the floor. From the way her father and other members had looked at him he was sure he’d be kicked out. Vegeta didn’t mince words, and had told the fifteen people sitting at that long interview table exactly how he felt about their methods of defending themselves.

Shitty. It was all shitty. How could they look themselves in the mirror when all they did was pay people out for lawsuits that were unjustified? How had they not gone bankrupt? Why was a company so willing to fail wanting to hire him? What was the point? A mouse fart could have been heard after his rant, the faces of all the old men at the table sallow and horrified.

He knew he’d done it then; had ruined his chances of ever having a good client.

Fuck.

Vegeta had turned to leave when he saw the blue haired woman standing in the doorway looking amused, “And where do you think you’re going tiger? You’re starting right now.”

“B-Bulma!” Dr. Briefs had stammered, “This young man had made it quite clear that he doesn’t wish to associate with us-”

Bulma’s blue eyes narrowed, and she peered around Vegeta’s shoulder to grin at her father, “Daddy, he is JUST who we need.”

“B-but princess-”

“Nice to meet you,” the woman had held her hand out to Vegeta, “I’m Bulma Briefs, co founder of Capsule Corp and head scientist. It’s a pleasure to have you as the newest employee. You’re office is down the hall, it’s the door right next to mine. You start immediately.”

Stunned, Vegeta shook her hand and she winked coyly, “Nice to have someone who will get things done. And you’re cute to boot.”

And that was how this whole crazy thing started. Because this certifiably insane, stunningly beautiful genius and business mogul had had given him a chance when all his life he’d been told no. They’re upbringings couldn’t have been more different, and yet here he was. Watching her work was like watching a painter, completely in their element. He had a thought that disturbed him and caused him pause, but was still not enough to stop him.

Vegeta pulled out his smart phone, pretending to check emails when in reality he was opening his camera app.

This was wrong. He could get in so much trouble. But if one day she got sick of him and kicked him out on the street and he never saw her again, he wanted to always remember her like this: Leaned over her desk, blue eyes fixated on her own genius taking shape and stunningly gorgeous despite not even trying. Vegeta hit the button and captured a single silenced photo before quickly tucking his phone back into his pocket.

Bulma kept working, blissfully unaware of what had just transpired. Vegeta pretended to glance around the room, then noticed the still unopened sandwich beside her. He knew she wouldn’t eat unless forced to at this point. Sighing, he stood and went to her side. Bulma glanced at him questioningly as he plucked the pencil from her hand, instead thrusting the sandwich into it, “Eat.” He said firmly. Blue eyes blinked, but Bulma obliged, finally sitting and unwrapping her lunch. Vegeta nodded, before turning and walking out of the lab doors.

He’d stare at that photo for minutes at a time in his office behind closed doors for the rest of the work day and even months after. It reminded him of her kindness, and it caused stirrings in his belly he didn’t know possible. There was no chance with her, Vegeta knew. So, this picture and dreams were all he had. He was okay with that. This single snapshot of a moment in time was his little secret. She’d never even know.

Besides, what harm could one little photograph do?

—

Here is is my friends; the prologue to Denial! Thank you all for the encouragement and kindness you have shown my stories. This is for all of you ❤️

#vegeta #lawyer vegeta #bulma #scientist bulma #vegebul #vegeta x bulma #dbz #dragonball z #au #mouse wrote a fic

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shianhygge-imagines · 7 years

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REQUEST: Sick Week [DedSec/Reader]

Lol, I’ll try not to get sick. No guarantees though. The weather in New York suddenly got cooler, and I tend to get sick with the radical changes in temperature/weather conditions. It sucks. :P I tried to treat all the characters as equals... but I am very biased and uninspired for some of these. I won’t lie.

|Masterlist|

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

Horatio (he’s dead but...)

~ The Situation: Normal flu, bit of a cough, lots of sneezing... Just feeling all around miserable, honestly. You got sick from kissing Horatio when he was sick and you were taking care of him...

~ But it was your week off, so honestly, you didn’t want to worry him. Your boyfriend already gets enough shit from work, so you didn’t need to drag him away from his job and get him into even more trouble. And besides, Horatio always made time for you, so it was about time that you let him have some time away, yeah?

~ No. Because Horatio notices when you aren’t around. Like he’s innately always looking for you by his side. Whenever he’s not at work, you’re usually next to him, or texting him. You were a constant by his side. So, yeah. Once you get sick enough to not want to go outside or go on your phone, Horatio notices.

~ Horatio will give you a call or two... and then text you. But when you don’t answer after his first few attempts, he’s quick to go to your place, ringing the doorbell until you drowsily shout out for whoever the hell it was to quit it and leave you alone.

~ Your boyfriend is insistent about seeing you. But you’re telling him to go away because you don’t want him sick as well. “Babe... I know you have work, so please just leave me alone, okay?” You care about Horatio a bit too much, and he knows it, so he’s stern in his next course of action.

~ He calls into work and takes the next few days off, ignoring your protests through the front door. And when it’s done, he opens the front door using your spare key. You call him an idiot, but Horatio is all smiles as he hugs you.

~ The world could end, and he’d still be there for you.

Josh

~ The Situation: You probably got sick from some sort of illness that’s been spreading around your university campus. You’d expect that with the amount of money that you payed to stay in Cali for schooling, that the school would go around disinfecting populated areas every night. But no. They don’t do that in my university and they don’t do it in yours.

~ So now, you’re sick... like dry cough, sore throat, and migraines sick (it sucks. These symptoms together were just awful last year... my head hurts thinking about it). But you know? You’ve only been dating Josh for a few weeks, so letting him know about your being sick feels like you’re inconveniencing him. Plus the fact that Josh has a light phobia of germs, you just didn’t want to bother him. But, your roommate’s gone for a competition that week, so you’re alone... and sick... and you’re not very good at taking care of yourself. The symptoms just get worse... and you kind of end up in the hospital from dehydration... and you’ve been coughing so often that your throat has been scarred and is bleeding just a bit.

~ But here’s the thing... Josh... when he gets into his work, he barely notices how much time has passed. So it’s no wonder that you don’t get a visit from your boyfriend until much later that week. Sitara had pointed out that you had yet to call Josh, and it had been a few days. So, like the hyperfocused and dutiful boyfriend he is, he immediately skips calling you, and tracks you down via data mining... and reluctantly pays you a visit at the hospital.

~ There’s an unimpressed expression on his face, like he’s baffled that you had managed to get sick enough to be sent to the hospital, but he’s also glad that you weren’t in worse shape. He won’t kiss you for a while, but he’ll let you hug him. He’ll also feel bad that he wasn’t there for you, but he’s not comfortable showing it, so you’ll find that your hospital bill has been paid in full. Lol.

~ Give him some love... please... ;.;

Marcus (bit longer because I have literally nothing for our dear, dear Marcus)

~ The Situation: Since I’ve been basing my Marcus characteristics off of Ray Narveaz Jr. aka Brownman’s, playthrough... You kind of got a stomach virus... okay... maybe a really bad stomach virus... From eating tacos... Because your neighbor made tacos, and Marcus is always raving about the damn taco truck. So why not try it?

~ Erm... big mistake... You’re pretty sure the meat was cooked all the way... but you’re not quite so sure that the other ingredients were properly prepared. I would hazard a guess and say that the taco was stored properly by your neighbor after they made it. And if you cool something hot way too fast, or heat something cold way too fast, it’s called “temperature abuse.” And that type of situation promotes bacterial growth. (I’m sorry if you feel uncomfortable now.) So now the microbial ecosystem in your body is out of wack... and... well... diarrhea... and it gets progressively better as the week goes on because you have Pepto in your medicine cabinet... Still, you haven’t called Marcus yet and it’s making him worry a lot...

~ You’ve been dating Marcus since he accidentally tested the bank hacking software on your account. You’d been depositing your recent paycheck after a hard day at work (it didn’t help that your coworkers and superiors were all grade A assholes to you all the time.) And Marcus had seen how hard you work through your online info, and how little you get in return for your work... so he decided to give you money instead of taking money... but he made a mistake, and with a swipe of his finger, he’d given all your money away to needy children. And you, who have to work so hard to pay back for your student loans, pay rent and utility bills, as well as support your family... well, the sudden unfairness of life just caused you to have a mental breakdown at the ATM, just sobbing your heart out because rent was due that day. Marcus felt so bad about what he did, that immediately went into your account and added everything back and then some (like ten times the amount, lol)... and then he went to personally apologize to you... you’d hit him... but the two of you ended up dating so...

~ But anyways! You’re always sending each other memes or he’s always texting you for dates, so it’s an established routine, yeah? But when you’re sick, you don’t really want to deal with phones, people, lights, the cold... So you haven’t contacted Marcus in a while and now he’s worried. After maybe fifty texts from him in a row, you finally answer and tell him that you wish to be left alone. (*cue a picture of a sad puppy) <- that... is what he sends you. And he won’t stop... so you eventually give in and tell him that you’ve caught a stomach virus and are recovering, “Please don’t come over, okay? I just want to get through this.”

~ Eh... nope. Marcus is having none of that. Instead, he shows up on your balcony... he used a lift to get up there... and he has a ton of water jugs and healthy foods... and a teddy bear that says “Get better” on it. Honestly, it’s too sweet that you can’t shut him out and you end up passing your sickness with your devoted boyfriend watching over you.

Sitara

~ The Situation: Health-wise, there was nothing wrong with you at all. Simply put, all the stress of life just kind of piled onto your shoulders all at once one day, and you’ve been distressed since. You’d tried the adult way, simply working through your seemingly endless responsibilities, balancing work, bills, your relationship, social life, physical health, etc... But it’s simply to say that simply trying to work your way through problems with intense vigor doesn’t really help much. Headaches came and went, sometimes you had to try and fall asleep with a migraine. So, you decided to take a few days off. Mental health days. To take a step back from the responsibilities and reevaluate everything.

~ You let Sitara know of your decision because you know that she would probably go a bit ape shit if you suddenly disappeared off the face of the Earth for a few days. No. It’s simply not right to ghost on your significant other. NEVER. EVER. DO. IT.

~ Of course, Sitara is completely understanding of wanting to take some time away from your responsibilities. She would join you, but work with DedSec is a near 24/7 job. She’ll probably recommend some things for you to do on your time off, but she’ll leave it up to you in the end.

~ Though... if you do request her presence, with you during your off days... She’ll be glad to stay with you. Sitara can do work from your place. Though, expect her to mother hen you a little... or a lot.

Wrench

~ The Situation: You’re new to this whole dating thing... and your boyfriend is Wrench... you’ve been dating him for only a month so far, so it’s still a fairly new relationship and you’re not really knowledgable about what Wrench is comfortable with, what he’s uncomfortable with... You’re a few years younger than him, but your mental age is higher. So when you come down with a simple cold (coughing, phlegm, stuffy nose, light sensitivity, and bodily aches), you play the ‘responsible’ adult and tell Wrench to leave you alone for a week... or two... depends how good your immune system is.

~ Wrench is... okay with you not being around him for like... the first few days... and then he’s missing you. First, he’ll text you. Then, he’ll call you. And like Marcus, if you don’t call back within the first few hours, then he’s booking it to your home. I don’t think he’ll even knock on the door, he’ll probably pick the lock open to get in... or hack into your apartment building’s security feed to check up on you.

~ You’re a student, and you’ve been too sick to attend lectures, but it still doesn’t excuse you in the eyes of your professors, so you’re probably still doing school work while ill. There’s textbooks spread out in your living room and notes pinned or taped everywhere because you either have exams, projects, research, essays, or homework problems to do... or maybe all at once. And the professor expects you to turn them in on the days they are due... so you still have to leave your apartment to hand shit in. (The professors in my university have no mercy)

~ But yeah, even when you’re sick you work hard, and when Wrench lays his eyes on your form, huddled in blankets, but surrounded by work, he nearly walks back out and to your university to give your professors a piece of his mind. But you turn around and see him at your door. “Hey, Wrench. Did you come to see little old me? That’s sweet.” And there’s this loving smile on your face that has Wrench changing his mind, shutting the front door closed and strolling over to pull you onto his lap. And he just cradles you to him.

~ Don’t get me wrong, Wrench’ll probably scold you for working too hard because it’s been a few days and you don’t even look the slightest bit better. He’s probably going to stubbornly stick by your side as you do work, while also making you soup and other foods, keeping you hydrated. Because Wrench is used to living alone, so he’s had to know how to take care of a sick person. So, you have Wrench to give you extra lovin when you’re sick. ;3

~ If you don’t get any better though, I think Wrench will be the one to escort you to the hospital. He refuses to fuck around with your health.

~~~~~~

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