#i’ll be sharing a bedroom with my mom. so it’ll certainly be something. anyway i’m leaving early thursday morning and attending a meeting | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thefactsofthematter · 3 years

Note

hi bestie <3 you said send in some requests, so i'm suggesting:

javid with, "it's not okay! you're not fine!"?

i hope you have a good day !!!

hi bestie <333 i had so much fun with this, i haven't done a short little fic in ages!! here's a 2.7k javid fic - a college au and a classic (emotional) hurt/comfort type deal, heavy on the comfort ;)

"Wanna come for dinner at my parents' house tonight?"

Davey is laying on Jack's couch after his last class of the day, since Jack's apartment is just off campus, and it's a ridiculously convenient place to go nap after a long day of school. He honestly spends more time here than at his own apartment that he shares with his sister, a short train ride away.

"I'd love to," Jack replies, his gaze still glued to his computer screen, "but I totally forgot I have an art history paper due at midnight, analyzing a painting, and I haven't started. It needs to be ten pages, and I don't even have an outline. I'm gonna sit here and write until my eyeballs fall out."

Davey laughs softly.

"That sucks. Do you at least have some research done?"

Jack turns to him with completely dead eyes.

"Not a single academic source."

Davey glances at the clock. Jack has seven hours to pull this off, which is doable, but... intense. It would've been a lot easier to spread it out over a few afternoons, and it'll be a painful squeeze to get ten comprehensible pages of writing done tonight. Jack can write decently fast, but his spelling and grammar are atrocious, so he'll have to factor in editing time too. Davey is not envious of these circumstances in the slightest.

"Shit. Good luck. That sounds awful, but I'm rooting for you. What's your prof's late assignment policy?"

Jack, entirely beaten down, leans forward to rest his forehead on his keyboard.

"He won't accept them past the due date without a good reason... which I don't have. I'm just an idiot and forgot to put it in my planner— thank god Romeo texted me today to ask if I was done."

Davey pushes himself up and walks over to where Jack is sitting at his little dining table, under the constantly-flickering fluorescent bulb. He wraps his arms around Jack's shoulders and kisses the back of his neck.

"You got this. I'll come back here after dinner and bring you leftovers, okay? My mom's gonna be sad you couldn't make it, so she'll totally pack up a plate for you."

"You don't have to come all the way here," Jack sighs. "Your place is closer to your parents, and this is out of your way— you have work in the morning anyways, so you should go home and go to bed. I'll be fine, I'll probably write faster alone anyways."

Davey kisses him again, this time leaning around to plant one on his cheek.

"If you're sure." Jack's plan is probably the smart move, since Davey's shifts at his stupid coffee shop job start ridiculously early, and coming here would mean staying up with Jack until he finishes, probably distracting him. "In that case, I'll see you tomorrow after work, and I'll bring the food then... keep me posted about the paper, text me when you finish. And make sure you eat something."

Jack turns back to look at him with a strained, stressed attempt at a smile.

"For sure. Go have a nice time with your family, and tell everyone I say hi."

"Aba, you're doing it wrong. You have to use your left arm."

It's getting late in the evening, dinner has been eaten, and Les is trying to coordinate the family to make a TikTok with him. It's not exactly going well.

"My left or your left?"

"It doesn't matter, we have the same left!"

Davey has thankfully been placed in the back row, both because he's tall and lanky, and because he's so uncoordinated that Mom used to make you wear one of those leash backpacks as a kid to keep you from wandering into traffic... which is true, but Davey isn't sure why Les even knows about that. He certainly wasn't around yet when that was the case, so he probably heard it from Sarah.

While Les tries once again to explain how this little dance is supposed to work, Davey's phone starts to buzz in his pocket. It's probably a spam call, but he's not particularly invested in the dance lesson so he pulls it out to check.

Incoming call: cowboy babyy 💖🤠

Davey frowns. Jack never calls him. It's always texts or voice memos, since he's got some kind of weird aversion to talking on the phone. If he's calling, it must be important.

"Hi babe," he says, pressing his phone to his ear and walking off to his old bedroom to get some quiet, while Les shouts at him in the background for not taking this seriously. "How's the homework going?"

Jack is quiet for a second too long as Davey toes the door shut.

"...Not great. I'm really frustrated." He pauses and sniffles a little, sounding almost like he's holding back tears. "I don't know why I called you while you're having a good time with your family, though. I shouldn't be bugging you."

"Hey," Davey breathes, "you're not bugging me at all, sweetheart. Is the paper not going well?"

"I just... I'm so bad at writing, and I don't know what I'm talking about, and I have no idea how I'm gonna get this done in time." His voice is shaking, and it's breaking Davey's heart a little. "I'm being dramatic, though. I just need to keep working on it."

Davey sits down on the edge of what's now a guest bed, his old outer space-themed comforter replaced with something more neutral.

"You're not dramatic, it's okay to be upset. Do you want me to come over and help?"

Jack's breath hitches softly, and it confirms that he's almost definitely crying.

"You don't have to, you're busy with your folks. I'm sorry for calling." He shudders a little as he must try to take a deep breath. "It's okay... I'm fine."

Davey sighs, almost exasperated with Jack's self-sacrificial sense of pride. He'll never ask for anything for himself, not wanting anyone to go out of their way for him, even when he seems to be having a panic attack of sorts.

"It's not okay; you're clearly not fine, Jackie," he replies. "We already ate, and I'm not busy. If you want me to come over, I'll be there... do you?"

Jack is quiet for a moment again, taking a deep, shaky breath.

"Yeah. I do."

Davey nods, though Jack can't see him.

"Okay. I want you to take a little break from writing until I get there, alright? Change into your pyjamas and have a glass of water. Try to relax a little."

"Okay... thanks Davey."

The call ends, and Davey rejoins his family while tucking his phone away in his pocket.

"I have to go." He kisses his mother on the head as he walks by. "Thanks for dinner, Ima."

"Is everything okay?" she asks, catching him gently by the elbow before he can get too far.

"Yeah..." he sighs. "Jack's just having a hard time with homework, I'm gonna go help him out."

His father ruffles his hair and gives him a quick hug.

"You're a good boy, David. Take him those leftovers— your mother's cooking can fix anything."

"For sure. I'll see you guys next weekend, and I'll try to bring Jack along then."

He waves goodbye to Sarah and Les, grabs the dish of food, and then sets off on a speed-walk to the nearest subway station.

Jack is sitting on the couch when he arrives, his knees pulled to his chest, looking very soft and cozy in pyjama pants and one of Davey's old hoodies from some baseball tournament. He's staring into space, and he hardly even moves to acknowledge Davey's presence when he walks in.

"Hey darling." Davey leaves the dish of food on the counter and crouches down in front of Jack to try and catch his eye-line. He carefully takes Jack's hands in his own. "Hanging in there?"

Jack finally looks at him and nods, but as he blinks, more tears slip out and roll down his cheeks.

"I'm only done two pages," he mumbles, practically whispering. "I don't know why it's so hard, but I just can't do it."

"Oh, Jackie..." Davey reaches up to wipe Jack's tears, cupping his face gently with both hands. "Hey, you still have three hours, right?" Jack nods. "That's lots of time. We're gonna figure this out... let's just sit here and calm down a little first. It's gonna be okay."

He climbs up onto the couch to pull Jack into a hug, and the moment he's settled, Jack wraps his arms around him and breaks, sobbing into his shoulder. Davey cards his fingers through his hair and rubs his back; he's never seen Jack this distraught, especially not over homework. There's a good chance the problem runs a lot deeper, and stressing over an assignment was simply the last straw.

"You're alright," Davey continues, since talking is what he does best, even in moments like this. Jack is shaking with the force of his tears, breathing so hard Davey worries he might hyperventilate. "Listen, it's just one assignment, my love... if you get a bad grade, or if we don't finish in time, we can deal with that. We'll hand in whatever we finish tonight, so at least you won't get a zero. Worst case scenario, you retake this class in the spring... even that doesn't sound so bad, does it? I know you could handle it, if that's what happens."

Jack nods a little, but his tears don't stop.

"I'm so tired of being stupid," he hiccups, after a long while. "I keep getting distracted, and I can't word things right, and I spell everything wrong, and- and maybe I should just drop out, because I'm clearly not meant to be doing this."

"Baby..." Davey sighs, giving him a gentle kiss on the temple. "You're so intelligent, Jack. You're almost done your degree— after this term, you've only got one year left, and it's not like you do poorly in your classes, is it? Even when it's something hard for you, like writing, you always do well when you put in the work. What did you get on your sociology paper a couple weeks ago?"

"Ninety percent," Jack mumbles, muffled by the way he's speaking into Davey's shoulder. "But I spent so long on it, and you edited it for me. I'm gonna fail this one. I can't do it in one night, and I can't write papers without your help."

"Well, I'm here to help now, aren't I?" He rests his hand midway through brushing it through Jack's hair and scratches his scalp gently, which makes Jack shiver and laugh quietly through his tears. "Right? And you can write, darling— all I do is fix up the spelling and grammar for you. The ideas and words are all you, just like when you give presentations and knock it out of the park every time. I sure can't do that."

Jack finally looks up at him.

"Yes you can. You get nervous beforehand, but when you do a presentation, it's always really good."

Davey smiles at him, now that they're actually looking at each other.

"It's hard for me, though. Just like writing is for you— but with lots of effort, you're really good at it. See my point?"

Slowly, a small smile spreads across Jack's teary-eyed face, and he nods. Davey feels rather accomplished with this development.

"I guess so." He wipes at his eyes and sighs. "Sorry about this. I'm such a mess."

"No apologies. I don't blame you for getting overwhelmed— you're in a tough spot here." He pulls Jack in for a quick kiss, which they both smile into. "I brought you dinner. Go heat it up when you're ready; I'll look over what you've written so far and see if I can come up with some more ideas to add on. We're gonna work together on it, okay? What painting did you choose?"

"The Martyrdom of Saint Matthew by Caravaggio," Jack sighs, looking almost forlornly at his computer on the table. "I have a lot to say about it, and lots of good stuff in my notes, but I just can't put it into paragraphs and sentences that make sense."

Davey nods, watching Jack as he stands up to go put the leftovers from Davey's family in the microwave.

"Well, I don't know anything about paintings, but if you talk me through it, I can help you put the actual paper together." He pauses as an idea dawns on him. "I'm gonna email your professor and ask about an extension— it might be a shot in the dark, but we should at least try. The worst he can do is say no."

"Sure," Jack replies from the kitchen, his voice still shaky. "He's a total hardass, though. Fingers crossed for a miracle."

Davey sits at the table, opens up Jack's email, and starts a draft.

Hi Professor Diaz,

Apologies for the short notice, but I'm wondering if it would be possible to have an extension on the analysis assignment, even if it's just by a few hours. I unfortunately mixed up some due dates in my planner, and I thought I had an extra week for this assignment; I only realized the mistake today, so I'm currently scrambling to get it done in time.

Would it be at all possible to turn it in a few hours late, just to have a bit more time to finish it up? I would really appreciate any amount of time you're willing to give me.

Thank you in advance for your understanding, Jack Kelly

He shrugs, sends it, and sincerely hopes a little professionalism and a decent (if slightly fabricated to make Jack look less forgetful) excuse will go a long way.

It's quarter to eleven, the paper is now five-and-a-half pages long, and Jack isn't crying anymore. He's in the zone, talking aloud about the painting while Davey helps him get his vague ideas into concrete sentences, and they're on track to have at least seven or eight pages by the time midnight rolls around— it might not get full marks, but it'll be better than nothing.

Jack's computer dings with the sound of a new email while they're taking a two-minute break— something they've interspersed every half hour, since Jack's focus is best in shorter bouts. He's in the middle of walking laps around the apartment to get his energy out and annoy his downstairs neighbours, but he scrambles back to the computer at the noise.

"We got a reply!" he shouts.

Davey is over on the couch, and he watches Jack's face closely as he opens the email. So far, so good... and then he slumps down in his chair in a show of what could either be defeat or relief. Davey can't quite tell, so he jumps up to go read it for himself.

Sure. Email it by 11:59pm tomorrow.

Sent from my iPhone

"Yes!" Davey shouts, grabbing Jack by the shoulders. "I told you it was worth a shot!"

Jack laughs, and then reaches up to pull Davey down for a kiss.

"You're the best, Jacobs. A fucking lifesaver." He rubs at his eyes, and then pushes his computer away, across the table. "I'll deal with this tomorrow. Let's just go to bed— you still have to be up early."

Right. Davey has a dreaded Saturday morning opening shift tomorrow— they open at five, and he has to be there well in advance to get set up, so he's got no chance at getting more than a few hours of sleep. He's going to be dead on his feet in the morning, probably fuck up a few coffee orders, but it'll be worth it to have helped Jack through tonight.

Poor Jack seems completely exhausted— as anyone would be after crying so hard earlier— so collapsing into bed after washing up quickly is an utter relief. Davey, despite being tall and long-limbed, greatly enjoys being the little spoon and Jack is happy to indulge him, so they curl into the familiar position.

"Thank you for everything tonight," Jack whispers, practically into Davey's ear. "I love you so much."

Davey smiles as his eyes fall shut, and he kisses Jack's knuckles softly, where his arm is wrapped around him.

"Any time, darling. I love you too."

#both my current projects are slow burns so an established relationship fic feels good #hope u enjoyed it!!!#javid #jack kelly #davey jacobs #newsies fic #my writing

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carryonmywaywardcaptain · 3 years

Text

Miles of Memories- 1

We’ve Got Tonight- Bob Seger

Miles of Memories Masterlist CarryOnCap’s Masterlist

Dean x reader Best Friends to Lovers AU

Summary: Feeling anxious about heading off to college, you make the most of your last night in town with the help of your best friend, Dean.

Warnings: fluffy, adorable Dean and fun banter. Slight angst (goodbyes are hard). Minor mentions of childhood trauma

WC: 2,900

A/N: This part is like a “prelude” to give you a glimpse of Y/N and Dean’s relationship (5 years before the main storyline). I hope you stay tuned for the slowest of Dean x fem!reader slowburns. I’m so excited to share this story, so please let me know what you think! MASSIVE thanks to my spectacular and badass beta crew—@christopher-evxns @deanwinchesterswitch @ezilyamuzed & @wonder-cole—for all of their help and input!! I edited even after their feedback, so all mistakes are my own. Credit to Bob Seger for the song :)

Zipping your suitcase closed with a heavy sigh, you worked through your mental checklist for the hundredth time to make sure you hadn’t forgotten to pack anything.

“Jeez, you act like it’s the last time you’ll ever see this place or something.” With a smile and a roll of your eyes, you turned to see Dean leaning casually against your doorframe. “Y’know, I figured I’d talk to Bobby about renting this space out anyway. Save you the stress of missing it while you’re gone because it’ll look completely different the next time you come back.”

“I’m not too worried. I think you’re the last person Bobby would trust with anything—let alone a space in his house.”

Dean grinned, pushing off the doorframe to mosey into your room. “See, normally I’d agree with you. But it just so happens that he gave me my very own key to the garage, so I think he’s coming around. This ready?” He pointed at the suitcase on your bed, and you nodded.

“Riiight. I’m supposed to believe that Bobby would actually give you a key to come and go at the shop anytime you want.”

Dean shrugged, spinning on his heel with your bag in hand. “Guess he’s looking for a new favorite since you’re skipping town to go be successful out in the real world.”

You snorted and shook your head, silently following him to the door. He stepped out of the way, placing his free hand on the doorknob as you scanned the bedroom one last time. Gnawing your bottom lip, you sucked in a deep breath and tried to alleviate some of the tightness in your chest.

This room had been a safe haven for most of your life, and it was hard to remember the days before you called it “home.” Your mother had passed away when you were a toddler, and your father was a drunk, in and out of jail and your life until one day he didn’t come back. Bobby had often been the one who took care of you when your father needed to pass you off onto someone else.

You didn’t remember much about the “Travelin’ Man” (as Bobby not-so-lovingly referred to him on the rare occasions he was mentioned), but you could easily recall the night Bobby told you this would be your room for good. The relief and excitement you’d felt upon learning you’d have a space of your own were still vivid. Knowing you had a place you could always return to provided a sense of stability and consistency you’d never known.

Bobby may not have been your father by blood, but he was your dad in every sense of the word. Sure, he was a little rough around the edges and tended to be a hermit, but he also had a heart of gold, and not once had he ever made you question whether he cared about you.

A few weeks after settling into your new home, you had met Jessica and Sam during recess at your new elementary school. Although they were a grade younger, you’d instantly hit it off with them. Jess and Sam had always been there for you over the years, too, willing to lend an ear or make time for movie nights and spontaneous trips to the diner. Eventually, Sam had introduced you to Dean, and the two of you had been inseparable ever since. Each and every memory you had growing up involved at least one (if not all three) of them. But while it was difficult saying goodbye to everyone in general...you still hadn’t been able to grasp the idea of saying goodbye to Dean.

Dean was the one who had been by your side through everything. From heartfelt life chats and your deepest moments of self-doubt to car ride sing-alongs and your loudest belly laughs. He was always there to comfort you, remind you not to take things so seriously, and even drag you into trouble once in a while.

The thought of leaving him and your safe, familiar home brought yet another wave of apprehension and doubt. What if you were making a huge mistake?

“Y/N...” Dean’s gentle voice coaxed you back to reality. “We’ve still got a lot to pack into our night, so don’t go checking out on me yet.”

Without looking back, you slipped past Dean and heard him shut the door as you made your way downstairs.

“You know, this wouldn’t be so hard if you would’ve just applied like I told you to. Then we could both be going off to college together, and you’d find out what an honor it would be to have me as a roomie.”

“Okay, well, let me remind you that you’re the one who decided to go ‘see what’s out there’ and get a fancy college degree under her belt. And, even if we did survive being roommates without making the other want to pull their hair out, there’s no way in hell that town would be able to handle both of us.”

“That’s fair.”

“Besides, I won’t have much of a chance to miss you. You’ll probably flunk out and be back here by the end of the semester anyway.”

“Also fair,” you laughed. “Taking a year off to work at The Roadhouse and pretend to get my life together seemed like a good idea at the time, but I’m a little worried about getting into the groove of studying and all that crap again.”

“You know, if you need help, all you gotta do is pick up the phone. I mean, Sammy’s a real bookworm, and he’s only a phone call away.” Dean winked as he held the front door open and motioned for you to lead the way.

Sticking your tongue in your cheek, you fought to hide your amusement at the way he threw his brother under the bus. Before you made it through the door, you whirled around toward the stairs again. “Dang it. I forgot my bathroom bag. Do you mind tossing that one in the car? I’ll be right back!”

“Another bag? Where are you gonna put all this crap?” he muttered.

After retrieving the pouch from the bathroom upstairs and making sure you hadn’t left any necessary items in the drawers and cabinets, you hurried outside to find Dean patiently waiting beside your car. You tossed the small bag and he caught it with ease, pitching it in the backseat before closing the door.

“And done. Any last-minute stops to make along the way?” he asked.

“Nope. I caught Ellen, Jo, and Jody at the end of my shift yesterday, and Charlie was over for a bit this morning. And, you know, Sam and Jess ditched us for California last weekend. That means you and Bobby are the only two left to put up with me until I leave in the morning.”

When your voice cracked unexpectedly, you cleared your throat and surveyed the scrapyard until the faint prick in the corners of your eyes faded. As your departure drew near and you considered everything you were leaving behind, venturing out into the world was quickly beginning to feel more daunting than exciting.

“Hey…” Dean gripped the tops of your arms, stirring you from your thoughts. “We’ve got tonight. Who needs tomorrow? We’ve got tonight...babe. Why don’t you staaaaaaaayy—”

You had thought he was going to say something sweet and comforting, but you playfully shoved him in the chest when you realized he was speaking in Bob Seger lyrics. He stumbled back a step, laughing as he walked around the front of the impala and climbed inside.

***

There was an old park on the outskirts of town where Bobby and John would occasionally drop you both off when they had errands to run. As the years passed, you began riding your bikes the few miles across town, taking turns balancing Sam on your handlebars until Dean was old enough to drive. Eventually, Sam stopped tagging along, but somewhere along the way the park became a place you and Dean cherished.

A large pond stretched across most of the area, and there was a stately willow tree near the water’s edge that served as your designated “spot.” It was a hideaway often overlooked by others, but it was the perfect escape when the two of you needed a place that was all your own.

“Alright.” Dean plopped down beside you on the blanket. “You’ve got your grub, an amazing view, and the best company you could ever ask for. What else could you possibly want?”

“You’re right. Baby’s good company and all, but she’s not much of a conversationalist.”

Dean grimaced. “Just for that, I might eat your food.”

“Depending on what it is, I might let you.”

He smirked and unrolled the brown paper sack in his hand. “PB&J’s, just like Mom used to make! I asked if she could whip up a few before she flew out to make sure Sam got all settled at Stanford. She said to tell you she’s sorry she couldn’t catch you and to wish you good luck. This seemed like a, uh, better idea at the time...now that it’s been a couple of days, these might taste like shit.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you took the sandwich Dean offered. “We’ve probably eaten worse, but I appreciate the sentimental twist. Seeing as how you’re in your 20’s and you had your mom make us sandwiches.”

“Hey, I was going for authenticity! Trying to help you feel like a kid again before you start adulting or whatever and—you know what? Just shut up and eat your food.”

The two of you unwrapped your sandwiches and continued bantering back and forth between bites. Even though the bread was soggy from marinating in jelly for a few days, and it certainly wasn’t the best thing you’d ever eaten, it brought back a flood of nostalgia.

When a comfortable silence fell over the two of you, your thoughts began to drift to dozens of adventures you and Dean had had here. You gazed out over the water, watching the willow branches graze the surface as they gently swayed in the breeze. You tried to commit every detail to memory as you soaked in the peaceful atmosphere, not knowing how long it would be until you returned.

After a while, Dean chuckled under his breath, and you looked at him curiously.

“You remember that day we were pretending to be pirates, and Dad ended up coming to pick us up early?”

“Of course.”

“Man, he was so pissed when he saw us standing on top of that picnic table we managed to drag out and ‘sail’ into the middle of the pond. Sure made an awesome ship, though.”

You smiled at the memory, though it was anything but funny at the time. “I think he was a little more pissed at the fact that we left Sam playing alone in the gazebo. And obviously what made the ‘ship’ great was the pirate flag I made.”

“Uh-huh,” Dean snorted. “You mean the crappy skull you drew on our lunch bag and stuck on the end of a stick? Pretty sure we were having a blast with the ship because it was my brilliant idea in the first place.”

“I was like 8, and it was still better than anything you could’ve drawn.” You crumpled up your trash and threw it at him. “And I was having fun--right up until you pushed me off anyway. I nearly choked to death on all that nasty water I sucked in.”

“Okay, well, you shouldn’t have been trying to be Captain when I’m the oldest, and it was clearly my title to begin with. There was no plank to walk, but obviously, you had to go overboard.”

He grinned, keeping his gaze fixed on the water. As you studied his face and noticed the faraway look in his eye, his smile faded. You figured his thoughts had drifted back to his dad, who had passed away a couple of years later.

“I felt so damn bad, though. I really was afraid you were gonna drown. And Bobby was ready to kill me when he found out.”

“Lucky for you, you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

The two of you joked and reminisced for several more hours, eventually watching the sun set over the water until it sank below the horizon. When it was time to head back to Bobby’s, Dean took the long way home so you could crank the radio and sing along with your hand hanging lazily out the open window. Back at the house, you sat on the kitchen counter and talked with both men until Bobby finally bid you goodnight--but you still weren’t ready to call it a night, knowing morning would come soon and it would be time for you to leave.

After convincing Dean to stay a little longer, you grabbed a couple of old blankets and spread them in the bed of one of the pickup trucks near the house. With your head on his chest and your body tucked comfortably against his side, you chatted beneath the stars until you drifted off to sleep.

***

“Got everything all packed up?” Bobby asked.

“I think so,” you answered.

“Better double-check because I’m not driving a few hours just to bring you a lost shoe or something.”

“Is that a challenge?” you teased, seeing right through his gruff quip. “Because I bet I could talk you into it. We both know you’re not gonna know what to do without me.”

He frowned a little before smiling fondly, and you could’ve sworn there was a misty glaze in his eyes.

“Yeah. I s’pose you’re right.”

“Oh, don’t get all sentimental on me now. You could probably use a little break. Besides, I’ll be back so often you’ll just get sick of me all over again.”

“C’mere, kid.”

Bobby reached out and pulled you into a hug. Much too soon, he let go and stepped aside so you could say goodbye to Dean. His soft green eyes had been fixed on you, but he glanced away and clenched his jaw when you took a step toward him.

“So, uh...don’t forget about us when you make it big out there in the real world—catch a break as an artist or an author or some music critic.”

“Yeah, okay,” you scoffed. “I haven’t even picked out a major yet, but I think I have an advisor who can help me figure out a good fit...eventually. Maybe I’ll be a doctor—or follow in Sam’s footsteps and be a lawyer!”

“There you go. Why not just do it all while you’re at it? Jack of all trades, master of none. Whatever you end up doing, you better come back to visit soon.”

“You got it. Try not to turn into a grumpy old man while I’m gone.”

He shook his head, cracking a smile as he met your eyes. “Only a couple years older than you, brat. Anyway, I didn’t get a whole lot of sleep last night, so I made you a playlist for the drive. Figured I might as well do something useful while I was awake. I sent it to you while you were getting ready.”

Pulling out your phone, you found a message already waiting with a link to the playlist.

“This is awesome, Dean, thank you. But if it ends up being six hours of nothing but Zeppelin, I’m gonna be pissed.”

He tossed his head back and laughed, making the knot in your throat grow once again at the thought of not seeing him almost every day. You couldn’t help but wonder if he’d miss you as much as you were going to miss him.

“Don’t worry; I think it ended up being a decent mix. Not too many classics and not too much of the more modern crap. There was, uh... a certain thought process behind each song, let’s just say that.”

“We all know some of that modern crap is a guilty pleasure of yours. I mean, Taylor Swift?”

“Yeah…” His gaze lingered until his grin faded to a sad smile. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you leaned forward and threw an arm around each man. Squeezing your eyes closed, you hugged them tight.

“All joking aside...you got nothing to worry about. You’re gonna kick this college thing in the ass,” Dean murmured.

“Thank you.”

Clearing your throat, you slipped out of their embrace and quickly made your way to the car.

“Drive safe--and call when you get there!” Bobby hollered.

Stealing one last glimpse over your shoulder, you waved and slid behind the wheel. You hit shuffle on the playlist, letting the music fill the vehicle while you fasten your seatbelt.

I know it’s late

I know you’re weary

I know your plans don’t include me...

You shook your head and smiled, blinking back tears at the irony of the song—the lyrics perfectly encapsulating your night with Dean.

Look at the stars so far away

We’ve got tonight

Who needs tomorrow?

We’ve got tonight, babe

Why don’t you stay?

As you started the car and drove away, seeing him and Bobby grow smaller in the rearview mirror, you finally began to cry.

Part 2

CarryOnCap Crew (Forevers):

@abswritesfandoms @amanda-teaches @cosicas-cuquis @crist1216 @droidyouseek @emoryhemsworth @ericaprice2008 @flawless-disaster @janeyboo @jenn0755 @ksgeekgirl @maresmiley @memyselfandmaddox @notyourtypicalrose @randomparanoid @rynabarnesrogers @sandlee44 @scarletsoldierrr @shann-the-artist-moon @sheerioasteroidpanda @shynara51 @someday-when-you-leave-me @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @thisismysecrethappyplace @torntaltos @waywardbaby @waywardrose13 @weebid @whimsicalrobots @wintersoldierbaby @yesfanficsaremylife

Cap’s SPN Crew:

@adoptdontshoppets @akshi8278 @alexwinchester23 @chevyharvelle @deangirl7695 @dean-winchesters-bacon @fandomoniumflurry @pisces-cutie @supernaturalenchanted @superromijn @thoughts-and-funnies @waywardnerd67 @x-waywardaf-x

Miles of Mems Tags:

@bobbie3939 @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @mlovesstories @onethirstyunicorn @peridottea91 @valsworldofcreativity

Also tagging those of you who seemed interested when I posted the masterlist. I don’t want to pester you, so I probably won’t tag you in future parts unless you let me know that you’d like to be tagged!

@badlittlehabit99 @cajunquandary @devvoon @flamencodiva @hybrid-in-the-making @impalackless @janicho88 @themoonblooms

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awhitehead17 · 3 years

Note

The the prompts: how about some Dick and Tim brotherly bonding? Maybe with some snuggles?

After reading this I had an idea and ran with it. I really enjoyed writing this one and I hope you will enjoy reading it! :D

Without much thought, Dick opens his bedroom door with a smile and allows Tim to enter his room. His smile quickly falters however when all Tim does is hum in greeting and enters the room wordlessly.

His little brother stiffly walks over to the bed where he promptly faceplants the mattress as soon as he’s in reach of it. He lets out a long groan as he lies there not moving.

After closing the door Dick moves over to the bed and hovers there, observing the scene with both amusement and worry. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into Tim, when they had spoken not three hours ago, Tim had been completely fine and had been extremely excited for their movie night. Obviously something’s happened within that short time frame for Tim to be acting like this.

“Tim? What’s the matter?” He asks eventually when the younger doesn’t offer up an explanation for his actions. Dick immediately wants to fret over him and make sure Tim’s okay, but he’s not yet sure on how his mothering will be taken.

With Tim it’s always between accepting the care instantly and melting into it or he blatantly refuses any form of care and shuts himself away from the world. It depends on the situation really. Until Dick can work out what headspace Tim is in, he’s going to have to wait to see what the best way to approach his younger brother with care and affection is.

Letting out another dramatic groan, Tim flops over onto his back and sprawls out across the bed. His tiny 5’5 body doesn’t take up much room on the king-sized bed that Dick has, it almost looks like the covers are swallowing him whole.

“I’m so sore! How is that even possible considering what we do?”

At hearing this whine Dick allows himself to relax now that he knows it’s nothing major. Tim is just being dramatic. He sits on the edge of the mattress looking down at Tim with a raised eyebrow. “What did you do? You were fine when we spoke earlier.”

Tim groans again and reaches up to cover his face in his hands like he’s ashamed. “I made the mistake of training with Jason today. He was in one of his boot-camp, SAS, moods. My legs no longer function.”

Dick winces at the sound of that. Only once has he even been on the receiving end of that mood from Jason. After that one experience he vowed to make sure it never happened again and by the sight of Tim, he’s glad he’s missed out this time.

Without saying anything he observes his brother a little longer, an idea forming in his head as he does. The plan for them that night is to watch a few movies and binge some snacks and just generally hang out. What Dick is thinking about can still fit into that plan if Tim accepts it.

Instead of voicing his idea to Tim, Dick decides to just go ahead with it. He gets up from the bed and goes over to his draws, after picking out a loose pair of shorts he chucks them at Tim. “Put those on. I’ll be back in a second.”

Ignoring Tim’s questions, Dick heads to his ensuite and digs out a certain kit from the back of the cupboard under the sink. Once he’s got it he goes back to the bedroom and finds Tim still sprawled out over the bed but now with the shorts on.

Tim lifts his head and stares at Dick in question. “What are you doing? Aren’t we going to watch some movies?”

Dick places the kit down on his bedside table and nods. “Yes, but while the movie plays, I’m going to give you a massage. At least your legs, it’ll help with the muscle soreness.”

Tim blinks at him for a long moment like he’s trying to comprehend what Dick had just said. After several beats go by his brother shakes his head. “You don’t need to do that Dick. I’ll be fine.”

Dick hums, not taking any notice in the protest. “While I massage your legs, you can watch the film. Once I’ve done both then we can settle for the evening.”

His brother opens his mouth, probably to protest again, but Dick sends him a look, one that tells Tim he isn’t backing down on this. Knowing that he isn’t going to win, Tim shuts his mouth and waves his hand around, silently gesturing Dick to ‘go ahead’ with it.

After deciding on a film, they put it on and Dick starts massaging Tim’s legs. He takes his time with it, regularly checking in with Tim to make sure he’s not hurting him and that he’s hitting all the correct spots.

Other than the check-ins it’s silent between the two of them, not that there needs to be any conversation between them in that moment anyway. It happens to be a comfortable silence that fills the room, the two of them being at ease with one another which makes it easy to relax.

It wasn’t until Dick finishes right leg and moves onto his left that Tim speaks up, breaking the spell between them.

“How do you know how to massage people?” His voice is soft and seems like it’s almost floating.

At the question Dick glances up at the rest of him to find Tim lying there with his eyes closed and the rest of his body relaxed into the mattress underneath him.

Continuing on with the administrations Dick answers him thoughtfully as he reminisces. “I first learnt about it when I was in the circus. Being acrobats we were quite prone to injuries, so after most training sessions and especially after shows, my parents used to massage one another to help their muscles. My mom used to do it to my dad more than the other way around.

Anyway, of course seeing this I picked up a couple bits here and there. They never did it to me, didn’t need to as I just stretched more than anything and of course being a kid meant I didn’t need it like that.

After I moved to the Manor, I once mentioned it to Alfred that my parents used to massage their muscles after exercise. When mentioned it I was a little older and was already Robin, but Alfred had offered to teach me some in-depth massaging techniques that could be used on the body. It was a thing between us for several years until everything went sideways.

When I moved to Bludhaven I lost track of it and basically dropped it. I had become too busy to focus on that sort of thing. It was when Bruce decided to adopt more kids and I was suddenly gaining a wide range of younger siblings that I picked it back up and even took some professional classes. I figured it was a good opportunity to get back into it and then I can help anyone out in this way if they happen to need it.”

As he works his hands down Tim’s calf Dick gets lost in those memories and the journey of what this skill has taken him through throughout his life.

Tim props himself up onto his elbows and studies Dick, Dick simply blinks back and continues with the task. He’s almost done now. “Guess it’s come in handy now after all.” Tim laughs lightly.

“It’s certainly taken long enough,” he retorts back with a grin. Within minutes he finishes up and pats Tim’s legs. “There you go, all done. You’ll still be sore tomorrow but it hopefully shouldn’t be as bad. Would you like a shower to wash the lotion off or are you good?”

Tim slumps back down on the bed again, a smile adoring his face. “I don’t think I could move even if I tried.”

Dick rolls his eyes but is smiling nonetheless. “Sure. I’m going to go wash my hands and then we can settle down finally.”

Now he’s finished, Dick packs up the massage kit and takes it back to the bathroom to put it away. He washes his hands before heading back to the bedroom to find that Tim still hasn’t moved from his sprawled-out position on his bed. Dick raises an eyebrow at him. “Are you planning on sharing any time soon.”

Tim makes a face before shaking his head. “Na, I’m good thanks.”

“Alright have it your way…” with that Dick promptly falls onto the bed, purposely landing half on Tim despite how big the bed actually is. The action makes the younger squawk in protest and he immediately starts trying to squirm out from underneath Dick.

Dick lets him struggle futilely for several moments before finally moving and allowing Tim to breathe easily once again. He wastes no time in manoeuvring them so they are propped up against the headboard cuddling into each other’s sides.

Tim smacks him in the chest, calling him a jerk but Dick sees the smile he’s attempting to fight off and doesn’t think anything of it. He’ll let Tim keep his dignity (or some of it at least). They settle together and start to properly watch the film which is about three quarters the way through by now.

“Hey Dick,” Tim says getting his attention, when Dick looks down at him Tim is watching him fondly, “thank you. Not just for the massage, which by the way felt amazing, but for sharing about it too.”

Dick ducks his head and presses a kiss to Tim’s hair. “Not a problem Timmy. Thank you for letting me help you.”

Tim smiles but doesn’t say anything more, not that there needs to be more words shared. They aren’t necessary anymore, they know each other well enough by now that their gratitude is there without being said.

The comfortable since returns as they settle into each other’s sides for the rest of the evening watching the movies they have queued and eating all the snacks they brought.

#prompt #Tim Drake #dick grayson #brotherly bonding #sibling relationship #big brother dick #massage #tim being dramatic #bat bros #fluff #Bit of humour #cuddles #i really enjoyed writing this #i hope you like this #fanfiction

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sanderssidesfanfiction · 3 years

Text

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Twenty Six

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

September 17th, 1999

Remy was pacing back and forth in his room, trying to figure out what to say to his mother when he inevitably had to leave his room and ran into her again. When there was a knock on his door and his mother poked her head in, he was about to open his mouth to say he needed a little more time but she burst into tears. “Oh, Remy, baby, I’m so sorry! You know I love you, right? You know I would never want to hurt you! I just want you to be happy, and I know that going into business won’t help you.”

Standing stock still as his mother came over to hug him, Remy just let her, trying to figure out a response. “It’s...it’s okay, Mom. Really.”

“It’s not, it’s not!” she wailed. “Oh, can you ever forgive me?”

Remy’s stomach twisted uncomfortably, even as he hugged her and said, “Yeah, of course.”

April 26th, 2001

“Emile,” Remy mumbled into Emile’s chest from where they were cuddling on Remy’s bed.

“Yes, Rem?” Emile asked.

“I know that we live in the same apartment but...do you think we should like...share a bedroom?” Remy asked.

Emile propped himself up with one arm. "What do you mean?"

“I mean...I know it’s pretty early in the relationship still, but like...eventually. Do you think we should share a bedroom in the apartment?” Remy asked.

Emile shrugged. “Eventually, that seems like the natural progression of our relationship.”

Remy nodded.

“Why do you ask?” Emile tilted his head to the side. “I mean, like you said, it’s pretty early in our relationship...”

“Uh...I just thought...we cuddle in each others’ beds so much...” Remy shrugged.

“That’s because we don’t have a couch to cuddle on,” Emile said. “Besides, it’s kinda nice to get to visit your room every once in a while. After all, we almost always went to my room when you went to college with me.”

“Well, my roommate then was...kinda killing my motivation to bring you over. He wasn’t exactly the cleanest,” Remy said. “My new roommate’s almost anal retentive enough to be called a ‘neat freak,’ though.”

“Shut up,” Emile laughed, lightly whacking Remy’s bicep with the back of his hand.

Remy laughed and when Emile laid back down, Remy rested his head on Emile’s chest again. The full-sized bed was a little cramped with both of them on it, but Remy wasn’t going to complain. He got to share cuddle time with Emile, and Emile was an amazing cuddler. Not that he'd be caught dead saying that, he had a reputation to maintain. But in secret, alone in his own head, yes, Emile was an amazing cuddler.

All too soon, though, they had to get up. Emile for school and Remy for work. They had these brief moments in the mornings, and Remy loved them, but he wished they could have them more without worrying about hours at work or making it to class on time. One day, he knew. One day Emile would be out of school for the summer and neither of them would have to go into work, either because Remy or Emile called in, or their bosses actually decided to be generous. And then they could cuddle all they wanted.

And then there were other options besides cuddling...dates, movies, going to the beach...oh, Emile in boardshorts was certainly a visual...

“Earth to Remy, you in there?” Emile asked.

“Hm?” Remy asked.

“I need to change, I was hoping for something before I left?” Emile asked with a grin.

“Oh.” Remy blinked. “If you want a kiss, you have to earn it, lover boy.”

The sheer offense in Emile’s face after that one statement had Remy cackling. Emile pulled Remy up into a sitting position and pecked him on the lips anyway. Remy grabbed Emile’s arms and yanked him back down on the bed for a deeper kiss as they both laughed. Emile pulled away and grinned. “Listen. I do have to change out of my pajamas.”

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead and change,” Remy said. “I need to get ready for work too.”

Emile left the room and Remy watched him go. Now, where had he been? Oh, yeah, Emile in boardshorts...that’s it, he had to get Emile to the beach at some point. That visual needed to become a reality.

Reluctantly, he did slowly get ready for work. He wasn’t feeling super feminine today, but he wasn’t digging the whole masculine look either. It was whatever, he supposed, but it still felt a little weird to feel wrong and not know what right might be.

He walked out to the kitchen just as Emile was grabbing some granola for breakfast on the go. Emile kissed him on the cheek and said, “See you tonight,” and he was gone.

Remy had a quick breakfast and made his way to work, smiling softly, just thinking about him and Emile being domestic together. He hadn’t realized how much he might enjoy this. Making breakfast while sneaking kisses, cuddling in each others’ beds in the mornings or before they went to sleep, or even just during lazy afternoons.

The walk to work went quick when he was sighing dreamily and just thinking about all the fun he and Emile could have if they put their mind to it. He made his way back behind the counter, tied his apron on, and clocked in.

When he walked up to the counter, one of his coworkers, August, smiled knowingly at him. “Cuddles this morning?” she asked.

“Why ask when you know the answer?” Remy asked with a little laugh.

August laughed too. “Just making sure,” she said.

Remy shook his head. “You’re ridiculous,” he sighed.

The work slowly but surely started to pick up, and pretty soon he and August didn’t have much of any time to chat. He kept himself occupied replaying memories in his head, like the time a week ago he had walked in the door of his and Emile’s apartment, and had immediately been assaulted with one of Emile’s pillows. Remy had put down his stuff, calmly picked the pillow up off the floor, and promptly chased a squealing Emile around the apartment, whacking him mercilessly until he could grab another from his room, at which point the pillow fight of the century ensued, complete with jumping on beds and laughter and plenty of accusations of cheating on both sides. That had only stopped when it was time for him to go to therapy.

He turned to the next customer in line, saying, “Hi, can I take your order?” before he actually looked at who was standing there and he paled as he saw his mother.

August noticed him go stiff and she walked over. “Something wrong, Remy?” she asked.

Remy couldn’t get his mouth to work as his mother just glared at him. “Uh...no...no problem,” Remy squeaked. “Can I get your order?” he repeated to his mother.

“An explanation would be nice,” his mother snapped.

August looked between Remy and his mother and quickly moved Remy away from the counter. “Remy, why don’t you work the coffee machines for a bit? I’ll handle this woman and the other customers until you feel a little better, sound good?”

Remy nodded slightly.

“Okay. Now, who is she? Do I need to call Emile?”

“No! Don’t call Emile!” Remy blurted. “That’s...she’s my mother. I’m just a little...surprised that she’s here, is all.”

August’s eyes flashed with anger before she gave him a reassuring smile. “It’ll be okay, Remy. You just work the machines, I’ll handle her.”

Remy nodded again and worked the machines, filling everyone’s orders as he kept one ear on the conversation behind him. “Can I take your order, ma’am?” August asked.

“I’d like to speak with my son,” his mother hissed.

“I’m afraid that Remy is still on the clock, ma’am. I need you to either order something or leave,” August said, calm but firm.

His mother huffed some before she said, “Fine, I’ll take an espresso. No sugar.”

August said, “Of course. Can I have a name for the order?” and passed Remy the order when she got one. He dutifully made it, set it on the counter, calling his mom’s name, and leaving to work the machines before she could corner him into having a conversation. He was not getting in trouble with his bosses because his mother decided to be nosy.

Much to his chagrin, his mother stayed in the shop until he finally had to clock out and walked out from behind the counter. He walked outside and noticed it was raining. Great. Just what he needed, a walk home in the rain. “Remington!” his mother snapped behind him.

He just kept walking down the street, until talons disguised as nails dug into his bicep. “Remington, look at me when I’m talking to you!” she said.

There was no use in trying to get his arm free, but he tried anyway, because some things never changed. “What do you want with me?” he asked.

“An explanation! You haven’t called or written us at all since before Thanksgiving! And then I call that phone that your dorm room has, and I hear from some student that you dropped out?!” His mother’s fingernails dug into his skin.

“Mom, you’re hurting me,” Remy said, trying to free his arm.

“You haven’t answered my question!” his mother snapped.

Remy felt his eyes heating up and he growled. He hated that he was such a crybaby, he could never stop his tears even when he really tried. Around the time that he left high school, he stopped trying, and just tried to find somewhere to hide until he was calm again, but here? Here, there was nowhere to hide. “Mom, you’re hurting me,” he insisted.

His mother scoffed and let his arm go, and he rubbed it, glaring down at her. “I did drop out. Because college was driving me to suicide. Now I work two jobs and they get me through life well enough. I have friends, and the reason I didn’t come home at Christmas was because I knew you’d react like this if I told you I dropped out.”

“You said you would change your major!” his mother screeched, and a few passersby gave him concerned looks. “You said that you would go back to college, and change your major, and continue until you finished your freshman year!”

“Yeah, well.” Remy shrugged. “I lied.”

His mother went red in the face and Remy was starting to think he had miscalculated. “You think you can just lie to my face and get away with it?!” his mother shrieked. “You’re coming home with me, and explaining what you did to your father, and we’ll figure out what to do with you from there!”

Remy’s eyes widened and he took a half step back, searching his mother’s face for any sign of hesitation. There was none. “No,” he said.

His mother stood stock still. Remy resisted the urge to gulp. “Remington, this is not up for debate,” she said, voice taut with deadly rage that he knew from experience would snap and lash out everywhere if he did the slightest thing wrong. “You will follow me back to the car and you will be coming home.”

“...You’re right. This isn’t up for debate. I’m not going,” Remy said, voice quivering only a little.

“Remington Samuel Picani, you will come with me right now!” his mother demanded, voice shrill.

“You don’t understand. I live here now. This is my home. And I would thank you kindly to never demand I do anything again,” Remy said.

His mother’s nostrils flared and he turned and ran, listening to his instincts. His mother grabbed for his arm, but he moved it out of her reach. His feet hit the pavement harder, harder, propelling him forward faster and faster. He had to keep moving, had to keep going, had to get away just until his mother calmed down. When she was calm again they could talk, but not before. He didn’t want a screaming match, and besides, Emile said that arguing when people were angry never ended well.

His feet moved without him telling them to, dodging people on the street, making twists and turns around the town that he had grown to know but his mother did not. He had to get away. He had to make sure his mother didn’t know where he was going. She was yelling after him, but he pretended to not hear. It was hard to make out what she was saying, anyway, considering the blood roaring in his ears. He made a hard left, darting across the street, making sure that his mother was out of sight before ducking into his apartment complex. He made it to the doorway of the steps leading up to the upper floors before his legs gave out and he collapsed in a heap.

#if there's a place i could be #sanders sides fanfiction #remile #emile picani #ts sleep

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cheswirls · 4 years

Text

a continuation of this.

ace helps koala unfurl the sail after tying his boat to her larger one. once they’ve moved out away from the island, he beckons sabo forward to her scrutinizing gaze.

“huh. he looks better than you, actually,” she says, a hand under her chin. she dodges neatly around ace’s elbow jab and frowns. “why’s your hair wet?”

sabo blinks, like he’d been unaware of this. to be fair, it had dried considerably in the sunlight. he reaches up to roll a strand between his fingertips. “chemical tank,” he mentions lightly, after sparing koala another look. she quickly drops the subject.

“i’m koala.” she holds out a hand and sabo takes it. “and you are?”

“system of acute biowarfare organics,” he recites. ace screws up his face and sabo blinks after catching sight of it. “you can just call me sabo,” he tells koala.

“no wait, back up.” she frowns. “that sounds . . what does that mean?”

“my blood is poisonous,” he tells her. she quickly drops his hand.

“oh.” her voice grows faint. “i see.” she turns to ace next. “you didn’t tell me your clone is a biological weapon!” she hisses.

“i didn’t know!” ace insists. “i literally just found out!”

“i told you my name earlier,” sabo says to him, brows furrowing.

ace groans. “yeah, but i didn’t ask what it meant.” i was distracted by something else.

“that’s not my fault.”

“stop being a prick!” ace snaps.

sabo blinks, and his expression grows dull. “what’s a prick?”

ace’s eyes grow wide. beside him, koala starts to laugh. “i already like him better than you,” she says, and ace sputters.

before he can reply properly, she addresses sabo again. “nice to meet you. i have a lot of questions, but i’ll save you the grief and just ask one for now. why are you a system of poisonous blood? aren’t you a human body?”

“my predecessor were the storage of acute biowarfare organics,” sabo admits. “they decided a system that could reproduce the toxin would be far better.”

koala hums. “i think dragon may forgive you, actually, if you play your cards right,” she mentions to ace.

ace crosses his arms over his chest. “that’s not why i went and got him.”

she rolls her eyes. “i know. i’m just trying to help.”

“well you’re not.”

“oh fuck off!” she turns away. “sabo, tell him that when he’s annoying you.”

“don’t listen to her!” ace snaps.

sabo’s eyes narrow. “fuck off.”

ace gasps. koala breaks into hysterics. “i definitely like him better than you!” she howls.

ace bows sharply at the waist. “i apologize for seizing an army ship for my own personal gain.”

dragon eyes him carefully, leant back in his chair. “you could have been seen.”

ace straightens out. “i made sure i wasn’t.”

“what’s his name?”

“sabo, sir.”

“what was their goal? why create him?”

“he’s some sort of biological weapon.”

dragon’s brow raises. “and he just defected willingly?”

“in all fairness, sir, he recognized their plans for him were wrong.” ace hesitates, just for a moment. “i offered him freedom. he accepted.”

dragon nods in understanding, a silent agreement passing between them. then he nods again. “i’ll forgive you if you let me analyze his blood.”

ace blinks, caught off-guard, because he hadn’t expected such an easy out.

“i do not think that is a good idea,” sabo says, later on in the day, after being introduced to dragon.

dragon’s face grows pensive. “and why not?”

“i am unsure the material you have to extract the blood is strong enough to contain it,” he confesses.

“what is strong enough, then?”

sabo shrugs. he’d seen ace do it in lieu of an answer earlier. dragon seems to accept it.

“hm.” dragon turns to ace. “looks like you’re not off the hook.”

ah. great.

“so, this is my room.” ace gestures to the near-empty space, then drops his arm with little effort. “our room, now, i guess. uh.” he sighs. “you can take the bed. i probably won’t be back in until morning.” it takes effort to contain his next sigh, and he moves further into the room to allow sabo better access.

the blond walks in slowly, examining everything in the room even when that means very little. ace doesn’t spend a lot of time here, anyway. it’s very impersonal. he moves over to the small dresser while sabo looks around.

“you should take a shower,” he mumbles. “i’ll lend you some clothes.”

“are we the same size?” sabo asks, the first thing he’s said since they left dragon’s office. ace turns his head over his shoulder to look at him.

“i’d be very surprised if we weren’t.” his tone borders on deadpan, but sabo either doesn’t get it or doesn’t let it affect him.

“surely we have different builds,” he insists, though the emotion in his voice is lackluster. “i haven’t been alive for very long, and i certainly haven’t kept the same schedule as you.”

ace shrugs, turns back to the drawer, and hurriedly pulls out a white nightshirt. “it’ll be fine. we’re at least the same height.” he closes the door and hands sabo a stack of clothes consisting of the button-down, socks, underwear, and an older pair of sweats. he’s careful to avoid skin contact, even if he knows sabo doesn’t have any open cuts, or any cuts at all. his blood is perfectly inside his body, where it should be, but the conversation with dragon still has him on edge. “do you need help showering?”

sabo looks at him oddly. “no. i’ve done it before.”

“that was a joke,” ace says too fast. he’s actually mildly surprised sabo was subjected to that.

as if guessing his thoughts, sabo’s fingers squeeze on the clothing and he opens his mouth. “they needed to make sure i could be delicate enough to function. my body is a container, more than anything.”

ace waves him off. “really, it’s okay. you don’t have to explain. look, the shower’s through here.” he spins on his heel and opens a door in the middle of the far wall. “i share it with kohza, next door, so just remember to unlock this when you leave,” ace tells him, locking the other door as he does.

“unlock the door,” sabo echoes. “got it.” he settles the clothes on the small counter, then fumbles with the clasp of the cloak. ace purses his lips and steps back through to the bedroom. sabo reminds ace so much of . . of him that he can’t stand it.

even more so when he turns back to shut the door, sabo’s eyes wide and innocent and curious on him, just like a certain little boy he used to-

“i’ll be back,” ace chokes out, forcing down that thought immediately. “go to sleep, if you can. i’ll be here in the morning.”

he doesn’t give sabo time to reply, fleeing the room in a hurry.

“i thought i would find you in here,” conis says drily, opening the door further, and ace blinks rapidly as his eyes adjust to the bright light from the hallway. lucky for him, conis slips into the room fully and casts it back into its lamp-lit glory.

ace frowns, registering her words, and turns back to his scrolls. “guess word gets around fast,” he mutters. “well, feel free to take my place.”

“reorganizing the archives doesn’t sound nearly as interesting as reading through the materials,” conis retaliates, waving a hand dismissively. still, she comes to sit at a close distance, mindful of the scrolls scattered between them. and on the floor. and on the tables. and overflowing the shelves. one would think it would be quite useful to have an archive room that was perfectly organized, especially for the delicate work they performed. and it had been, at one point. but then an earthquake had sent the room to ruin, and between this and that, there just hadn’t been anyone free to straighten it up.

until ace. lucky him.

“che,” ace ticks, setting a scroll to the side. “why are you here, then? come to keep me entertained?”

“you look alike.”

ace stills his hands. “you saw him?”

“i saw you two together, earlier. it shocked me a little bit, because when i heard you had a clone, i was expecting a carbon copy.”

“me too,” ace admits. he forces himself to relax, dropping his shoulders, tension bleeding from his arms entirely. he looks up at conis, and her pale hair and fair complexion remind him of an earlier train of thought. he’s careful as he voices it. “i think it still is, genetically. it took me a bit to realize, but i think they pulled on my recessive genes. that, or his pigment mutated in response to-”

ace cuts himself off, mouth still open, and zones out, eyes unfocusing. dragon hadn’t said to keep it a secret, and koala already knew, and koala was friends with conis. ace trusted conis, too, but information like sabo’s blood being toxic and nearly uncontainable was sensitive, and he suddenly wasn’t sure how willing he was to share. sabo just got here, after all. it wouldn’t do to have everyone afraid of him.

“hm,” he settles. “anyway, even though he doesn’t look exactly like me, he’s not a version that would have been impossible, either.”

he’d thought about that a lot, sailing back. sabo had his mom’s blonde hair, and her bright eyes, and her lighter skin. as much as he loathed to admit it, ace really did resemble his father far more. looking at sabo was almost like looking at a mirror complexion of what he could’ve been. really, if it weren’t for their shared dna -and, like, exact, too. he wasn’t ace’s clone for nothing- they still looked startlingly similar enough to pass as brothers-

ace feels a sudden, deep pang in his heart and he’s so glad conis picks this moment to speak up again.

“dragon isn’t as upset as he seems, about you going,” she tells him, and, ah, she must pick up on the subtle way ace’s face changes, because ace knows she wants to ask more, but she’s moved on to another topic instead. this is why he likes conis.

ace gestures around the room. “you sure? i’ll be here all night.”

“he was concerned about someone finding out you’re alive. he doesn’t mean to keep you under lock and key, ace.” conis reaches out, realizes the scrolls are still between them, and forfeits the motion. “i think he’s excited, if anything.” there’s a gleam in her eyes, when ace turns to look. “like it or not, you stole something important from them. things are going to develop. rapidly.”

“is it stealing if he went willingly?”

“to them it will be. not my point, ace, listen.”

this time she leans forward to place a hand on ace’s shoulder, closing the distance enough to stare into his eyes. “you’re the one who brought him here,” she reminds him. “now you have to be ready to accept the consequences.”

ace swallows, the words daunting. he is sure she means more than the punishment he’s enduring for having gone off on his own.

#writing #saboace #op #i cant believe its been a year since i wrote for this #that seems unreal #ig it goes to show how much 2020 has sucked #i had almost all of this written last year actually #was waiting to finish a scene #but decided ah fuck it ill do it in the next one #did NOT think it would take this long oops #anyway heres this au again #its rly not sa and yet i tagged the first one so #idk. idk #should i have an au tag?#this isnt ending anytime soon #i say as i post this one a year after the first aohfgs #guess ill decide next time #the clone au

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yamayamawrites · 4 years

Text

Pickle - A Switched Prequel

A/N: Hello hello! In my recent fic “Switched”, I mentioned that Tsukkishima and Yamaguchi had a cat named “Pickle”. I got the brilliant idea to write a one-shot about how they got Pickle, and also, how they got together. They can be read alone but technically they take place in the same universe! You don’t need to read one to understand the other - they just share a headcanon of mine that Tsukki and Yamaguchi have a pet together!

You can find this on my AO3 page here or you can read below! Either way, as always thanks for reading and I really hope you enjoy!

Tsukkishima stood outside Yamaguchi’s door, shifting a bit uncomfortably in the cool fall air. They had the day off from practice, and Yamaguchi hadn’t come to school, which was unusual. Normally Tsukkishima would play like he didn’t care and go home, but his feet dragged him here without his consent. He’d gone home and at first, he thought he’d stay there, but without even realizing it he’d packed an overnight bag and was out the door with a quick goodbye to his mother. Said overnight bag sat by his feet as he debated whether he should knock.

He didn’t need to, as it turned out. Yamaguchi swung the door open, jumping a bit in surprise and almost dropping the potted plant in his hand. “Oh, hey Tsukki!” he chirped in his normal way, despite the fact that his eyes were very clearly saying “asshole, you nearly gave me a heart attack”.

“Mind if I come in?” Tsukki asked, his usual droning tone having vanished. Yamaguchi wordlessly stepped aside.

“I’ll be in in a minute, this pot just needs more dirt.”

“Okay,” Tsukki called over his shoulder, already welcoming himself into the western-style home. He looked around at the dozens of potted plants, breathing in the air which smelled mostly like Yamaguchi with a hint of dirt. This was probably the most bizarre part of Yamaguchi’s personality, and the one that surprised him the most when he first came over. Both Yamaguchi and his mother (who Tsukki rarely saw anymore) had such natural green thumbs that half the time when Tsukki came over it was because his mother asked him to go get some fresh vegetables from their garden. Now, though, with the onslaught of winter just a few weeks away, all the outdoor vegetables migrated inside.

Tsukki spent his time trying to find a surface that didn’t contain a plant. That was how he usually spent his time when Yamaguchi wandered the house, watering plants while he watched. Sometimes they moved; Tsukki made note that the tall tree-like plant that had been in the corner by the television had now made its way to the dining area.

Though it was bizarre, it was never anything Tsukki really paid much mind to outside of Yamaguchi’s home. The smell of dirt didn’t follow Yamaguchi the way Tsukki might have expected it to, and aside from the occasional dirt stain on Yamaguchi’s uniform he gave no hints to his hobby. Tsukki almost wondered if Yamaguchi felt embarrassed of it, but no, that couldn’t be it, because on occasion he brought fresh pies and such for the team members using the fruits and vegetables grown at home.

Yamaguchi toed his shoes off at the front door as he returned inside, setting down a relatively large strawberry plant on the table in the front window – which was now so overcrowded with plants that Tsukki worried one might topple. Judging by the smear of dirt on the rug, that’s what had happened that required Yamaguchi to refill the pot in the first place.

“I’m really glad you’re here, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi commented offhandedly as he readjusted the pots on the table so they were at least a little less likely to fall. “I was actually going to call and ask you to come over.”

“Oh yeah?” Tsukki droned back, but his heart skipped a bit. He and Yamaguchi were in a weird sort of limbo with their relationship; he had no better way to describe it than a weird game where they tried to act like everything was normal between them, when it most certainly wasn’t. Not after Tsukki last spent the night.

In fact, that was mostly why he ended up here – to clear the air. He wondered if Yamaguchi had stayed home to avoid him, but as his eager friend ushered him down the hall towards his bedroom, he panicked and thought maybe Yamaguchi was done pretending.

When Yamaguchi pushed open the door, Tsukkishima realized, oh, we’re not going to talk about it.

Sitting on the bed with a piece of ribbon around its neck as a makeshift collar was an orange kitten, maybe not even eight weeks old, playing with a ping pong ball. “So,” Yamaguchi cleared his throat, grabbing Tsukki’s wrist and pulling him into the room before closing the door behind them, “this is…a cat.”

“I can see that,” Tsukki replied. “Mind explaining a little more?”

“Well,” Yamaguchi rubbed his neck sheepishly, teetering back and forth on the balls of his feet. “See, when I woke up I put my cucumber plants out on my windowsill so they could get some extra sun while I took a shower. And well, when I came back…he was here. Gnawing away on my cucumber plant.”

“What happened to the plant?”

“Who cares, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi replied with a stifled giggle. “What do you think we should name him?”

“’We’?” Tsukki questioned, the smallest hint of a blush touching his cheeks. “I’m not taking joint custody of a rat.”

“First of all, it’s a kitten,” Yamaguchi pouted, “and second, I can’t really…afford to take care of it on my own.”

“Then let it go,” Tsukki droned.

“No, it’ll die!” Yamaguchi huffed. “I think it’s one of the strays around here’s kitten. Haven’t seen her around in weeks, and I even asked a few of the neighbors if their kitten got out.”

“Is this why you weren’t at school today?” Tsukki asked finally.

“Does it matter? Okay, yes, I wasn’t at school. You’re changing the topic,” Yamaguchi whined in a way that made Tsukki want to bite his tongue and never annoy Yamaguchi again.

“What do you want from me?” Tsukkishima asked cautiously. This all crept towards ‘couple’ territory – owning a pet together was the first step in having kids together, and Tsukki’s face turned a sickly green. Oh god, we can’t have kids, we barely even kissed and we can’t even talk to each other about that and a cat is super close to raising a kid…

“I’m not going to ask for much,” Yamaguchi replied just as cautiously. He could tell Tsukki’s mind had already reeled itself into a knot by the way his face turned green. “You don’t even have to act like it’s yours. I was just wondering if you could lend me some supplies.”

Tsukki’s childhood cat had passed away when he was ten, and both boys knew well that instead of donate the food bowl and litter box, his mother had stored them away in case they ever decided to get another cat. Nearly six years later and there was no cat to show for it. Tsukki’s shoulders relaxed; he was sure his mother would rather give the supplies to someone she knew, anyway. Plus, this meant that his earlier conclusion of joint custody could have been off.

“Also will you help pick a name?” Yamaguchi spat quickly, his cheeks flushing as he snapped his head to the floor to avoid looking at Tsukki.

“Ah, yes to the supplies. No to the name.”

“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi whined.

“Fine. How about ‘Tadashi’?”

“Tsukki!”

Tsukkishima huffed, running a hand through his hair. “Alright, alright…you’re sure you want to keep it, though?”

“Yeah! He’ll keep me company when mom’s not home.”

That statement in itself probably would have had Tsukki in tears (internally; he didn’t cry on the outside) had they not been in such a weird place with their relationship and his mind not been taken up trying to unfurl that mess.

Yamaguchi scratched the cat behind the ears, eliciting a purr from him. “What do you think of ‘Pickle’?”

“Why Pickle?” Tsukki asked, cautiously stepping forward to pet the cat as well.

“Because he was eating my cucumber plant,” Yamaguchi shrugged. “And ‘Cucumber’ isn’t as cute.”

“I like it,” Tsukki murmured, voice ever so soft as his knuckles bumped against Yamaguchi’s. Neither of them looked at each other, blushing furiously; instead, they stared down at the cat, which was tilting its head this way and that to encourage more head pats.

After a few moments, Yamaguchi cleared his throat. “U-um,” he broke the silence, “I hate to ask you to do this, since you came all the way here and all, but could you—”

“You want me to go get the stuff, huh?” Tsukki droned. Yamaguchi flushed and nodded quickly.

Tsukki finally sighed and got up, rifling through Yamaguchi’s closet.

“H-hey!” Yamaguchi cried. “What are you doing?”

“It’s cold and I left my jacket at home,” Tsukkishima replied with a slight shrug. In all honesty, it had been something of a ploy to encourage them to talk about what happened between them. Still, without that conversation happening, Tsukki felt an odd satisfaction in making Yamaguchi so embarrassed. “I figured it’s only fair, since you want me to go back out in the cold.”

“I-I’ll have hot cocoa waiting for you when you get back.”

***

Yamaguchi wasn’t lying. As Tsukkishima trudged back up to his door nearly an hour later, food bowl and litterbox awkwardly in his hands, Yamaguchi swung it open for him, already holding two steaming mugs. “Tsukki!” he said excitedly. “I almost thought you wouldn’t come back.”

“Sorry it took so long,” he said in a condescending tone. That shut Yamaguchi up. “It’s a little hard to carry this stuff such a long way.”

“Right!” Yamaguchi set the mugs down on the dining table and grabbed the litterbox from him. “I don’t suppose you’d want to go to the store with me to buy litter and food, would you?” he asked hopefully.

“Yamaguchi,” Tsukki replied in a warning tone.

“You’re right, you’re right!” he squeaked. “I’ll, um, I’ll go tomorrow morning.”

“If you want to go tonight, I can stay here and watch…the cat,” he mumbled, a little embarrassed that he would even suggest watching the thing.

Yamaguchi perked up. “You would?! Oh, that would be great!”

“Only if you’re quick,” Tsukki snapped uncharacteristically. He supposed it was mostly due to the tension that revolved around the two of them. “Sorry,” he supplied shortly after.

“I’ll be quick,” Yamaguchi agreed. “I just need a few things. Like a collar and stuff!”

The two flopped down onto the couch side by side, watching the curious kitten stumble his way out of Yamaguchi’s bedroom. He was cautious, sniffing everything in sight, stilling when he saw Tsukki and Yamaguchi watching him. “He’s a little skittish,” Yamaguchi murmured. “Please don’t scare him.”

“I won’t do anything on purpose,” Tsukki supplied, and though it was genuine, Yamaguchi laughed at the implication that Tsukkishima was intimidating even to cats.

By the time they had finished their hot cocoa, Pickle had decided the couch was a safe bet and settled onto it, still eyeing the two of them curiously. Yamaguchi carefully took the mug from Tsukki’s hands, making sure not to touch him (which frustrated Tsukki much more than it should have). He said little more than what was necessary to Tsukki before he gathered his things and left, and then it was just Tsukki and Pickle, who had taken to digging his paws into the couch.

Tsukkishima tried to redirect his attention with the strap of his overnight bag, which worked for approximately five minutes until the cat became bored again. He half-debated letting the cat run rampant and just playing on his phone, but he knew Yamaguchi would probably lose his mind if the cat knocked over one of the plants. So, every time the cat got even close to doing so, Tsukki would pluck him from his spot and move him somewhere else.

He chased the cat around the house for about an hour before Yamaguchi finally returned, carrying a few grocery bags. “I had to get the small bags because I don’t think I’d be able to carry it all the way,” he huffed, setting the bags aside while he took his shoes off. Tsukki grabbed the food out of the bag and took it along with the food dish to the sink.

“What’re you doing?” Yamaguchi asked quizzically.

“It’s a kitten,” Tsukki replied with a shrug. “It probably can’t eat super hard food. I’m going to mix it with some water.”

Tsukki missed the way Yamaguchi gazed at him like he was some sort of angel, and he certainly missed the way Yamaguchi blushed and wrapped his arms around himself defensively. Before long, he heard Yamaguchi pouring kitty litter into the litterbox, and while he mixed the food he could hear Yamaguchi chasing the kitten around the living room, trying to put its new collar on it.

Tsukki set the food dish near the front door, and immediately Pickle trotted over to him, making a happy noise before digging into the dish of mushy cat food. Yamaguchi watched him, a bit breathless from chasing the cat around. “You know a lot about animals, don’t you?” he asked.

“No,” Tsukkishima countered. “My childhood cat just had kittens one time, and I remember that’s how we fed the babies when they were old enough to eat.”

“Oh,” Yamaguchi mumbled. He slumped onto the couch, Tsukki by his side, and they watched the cat eat.

Every time their shoulders blushed Tsukkishima could feel Yamaguchi shy away, and it upset him to the point that he decided he was sick of playing this game of acting like everything was normal. “Can we please talk, Yama?” he asked softly, despite his anger.

“About?” Yamaguchi countered, but the way his body stiffened, Tsukki was sure Yamaguchi knew exactly what about.

“Last time I spent the night.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

A silence fell over them, save for the noises of Pickle eating in the background. “I’m not mad,” Tsukkishima said finally, hoping maybe it would encourage Yamaguchi to explain why he kissed him.

He watched Yamaguchi’s shoulders slump. “I can’t apologize enough for that, huh?” Yamaguchi asked, almost a bit bitterly. “Look, I get it if you don’t have feelings for me or—”

“Who said that?” Tsukki countered, taking on a bitter tone himself. “You can’t make decisions like that for me and then lead me to believe something when—”

Tsukkishima stopped talking then, as Yamaguchi’s shoulders began to tremble. Tsukki dropped a gentle hand to Yamaguchi’s thigh, and the boy didn’t pull away. Instead, he glanced up, a few tears trickling down his cheeks. Tsukki used his other hand to wipe them away wordlessly, and before either of them could restrain themselves, their lips were brushing on each other’s again.

It was different this time. For one, Tsukkishima hadn’t been in the middle of talking and interrupted by an eager Yamaguchi stealing the words from his mouth. No, this one felt more longing, a bit more understanding of each other. Hearing Tsukkishima deny him an apology, even if that didn’t mean he also had feelings for him, felt like the most wonderful moment in the world. Tsukki himself had been toying with the idea of attraction towards Yamaguchi long before the kiss, and when Yamaguchi forced an apology and begged them to pretend nothing happened after the first kiss, it had broken his heart. But now, now he felt like he could finally repay Yamaguchi how he should have in the first place; he returned the kiss, or perhaps he initiated it. Neither of them knew who moved first, nor would they bother to pin that blame.

Their lips met with more intensity the second they parted to breathe. Having known Yamaguchi so long, Tsukki wondered idly (between the near-constant thoughts of wow, this feels nice) if that’s how their lips moved together so wonderfully. Any clumsiness his classmates had talked about when they had their first kisses hadn’t presented itself. Tsukki’s hand that had been on Yamaguchi’s thigh moved to grab his waist, his body turning to face Yamaguchi more.

The feeling of Yamaguchi’s arms winding their way around Tsukki’s neck was shocking enough itself, were it not for the ease with which Yamaguchi pressed their bodies together, resulting in Tsukki laying on the couch with a surprisingly dominant Yamaguchi on top.

A soft ‘meow’ across the room had them pulling apart just as quickly as they’d connected, faces flushed and breath labored. They refused to look at each other. Pickle the kitten was proudly sitting in the mush of food, cleaning his paws with his tongue.

“Such an efficient way to eat food,” Tsukki droned sarcastically, and Yamaguchi laughed.

Maybe nothing really had changed; maybe this was how it was meant to be. Tsukkishima couldn’t help but hope so.

#tsukkiyama #tsukkishima kei #yamaguchi tadashi #haikyuu!!#switched universe #headcanon #yamamamawrites

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bts-story · 4 years

Note

Hi Nageoire, can you please write a love triangle with Jungkook and RM fallen in love with the same girl. Love your writing! Thank you so much.

Two Pieces — Jungkook & RM

Characters: Jungkook, Namjoon X ReaderRated: L for Love is a bitch

“Love is devastating,” Namjoon’s father once told him, when he wasn’t older than five years old and witnessed of his first broken heart, back in elementary school. “Love is cruel. It’s harsh, Joon-ah. It brings more pain than happiness, if I was to give you a piece of advice, son, don’t ever fall in love.”

Don’t ever fall in love. The warnings of his father stuck inside Namjoon’s head ever since he first heard those five words. It kept him awake at night, tossing and turning endlessly until the sun was rising outside the curtains of his bedroom. It’s mean of his father, to speak that kind of words to a child who doesn’t have a clue why the world is spinning like it does. Maybe it was because his mother was found to share the same bed as the neighbor’s one night, maybe it was because the audience to pronounce Namjoon’s parents’ divorce was to be set days later, in all, it was unfair.

Unfair Namjoon was to hear this when he couldn’t even tie his own shoes alone. Don’t ever fall in love. Namjoon made that promise to himself, because the tears streaming down his father’s cheek that very same day was a picture he wasn’t able to ever forget. So he swore an oath. Something he vowed under the blazing testimonial of God and the Heavens, something he shout out to anybody listening to him rambling.

“I don’t fall in love,” he had said one day to Seokjin, his roommate which was happily and irrevocably in a perfect relationship with someone for one year, ten months and eight days to be exact (Namjoon knows because Seokjin keeps harping the same story over and over again about why being in love is wonderful and never forgets to find examples to why Namjoon is the most stupid man on earth for forbidding himself to feel such things).

And Namjoon never fell in love. He never witnessed the heart palpitations, never occurred of his irises dilatating at the sight of his loved one, never felt the butterflies dancing in his stomach or the clammy hands. Or the nervous breath, or the heart beating, never experienced the goosebumps or even, at the very least, never even had his face flushed due to too much proximity.

Namjoon didn’t mean to fall in love.

If he had the power over his heart, the control to direct it in that direction or this other, he most definitely wouldn’t have chosen to do something so reckless. He wouldn’t have allowed his mouth to run dry or his feet to dance nervously on the sole of his shoes as if he was suddenly aware of how he must look like.

At first, he didn’t even understand. He couldn’t fathom any reason as to why he couldn’tcross gazes with her, why he couldn’tspeak to her directly or why in the hell-world couldn’the take that bouquet of flower from her hands which he most conveniently came to buy specially for his mother.

“Tulips. For your mother, right? I guess it’s for your mom, I mean, it’s Mother’s Day, isn’t it?” Her voice is like honey and it sounds so freaking cliché because this isn’t some romantic bad television show and Namjoon is most certainly not the protagonist of a novel. But it’s like this, her voice rises and falls in a melodic way and suddenly, it reminds him of a song he heard on the radio the other day.

Her rough accent hints Namjoon she comes from the province and Namjoon has been rubbing shoulders with Hoseok long enough to recognize the strong dialect of Gwangju. He stood there, still unmoving, eyes locked on her delicate face and she isn’t thatpretty, okay, she does have a pimple on her chin and the dark circles under her eyes must testify of the long nights she was fighting off with one of her essays (Namjoon knows because that history thesis has been kicking his ass for the last two months).

“You don’t like the bouquet, do you? Sorry, I’m – well, I’m new to this. I don’t really know shit about flowers, just – just don’t move, I’ll do it again.” And Namjoon didn’t even have the time to take a glimpse at the bouquet, he was too caught up admiring – no, no, no, just looking– at her face.

Without waiting any longer, she was already tearing apart the bouquet to start all over again. “No – no, it’s okay. It’s, uhm, it’s a beautiful bouquet,” Namjoon tried to articulate between coughs, clearing his throat because suddenly, there wasn’t any water inside his mouth.

She argued. And he did too. He tried to snatch the bouquet back off her hands, throw some money on the counter and leave this place, because, what the fuck. But she gripped at the tulips with harsh hands, strongly trying to remake the bouquet from scratch. It was a mess, a really battling mess and the reason why they started arguing, right there and then, tearing apart the flowers which send petals to fly all around them was unknown to the gods themselves.

“Love is wonderful,” Jungkook’s mother once told him when he wasn’t older than eight years old and complained as to why the girl he liked didn’t like him back. “There will be a day when the right person will look in your eyes and you’ll see constellations battling inside of hers. You’ll be ready to fight wars and bring down states of power. If I was to give you a piece of advice, my Kookie, don’t ever fight love. It’ll always find a way to your heart.”

Don’t ever fight love. The words his mother spoke stood by Jungkook’s figure ever since he first heard them, all those years ago back in the garden of his grandparent’s house. Maybe that day marked the beginning of his curse, a life hexed of a malediction that would take possession of his heart.

Jungkook fell in love more times than he would admit. He would fall in love so easily, it was almost a joke and it wasa joke to Taehyung because his very best friend kept laughing at his face each and every time Jungkook thought about that girl who kept the door open for him at the exit of the bar, or when he kept rambling about that super cute barista in that new coffee shop in the center of the city, or even, when he couldn’t stop talking about the neighbor’s daughter who kept calling him cute nicknames.

It wasa curse. And Jungkook stood with a broken heart more times than necessary, more times than any other twenty-four years old. So, when he crossed the threshold of that very old flower shop that day, it wasn’t a surprise to anyone when his heart started doing freaking back flips when his eyes landed on that very new employee.

“Here we go again,” Taehyung rolls his eyes, half annoyed, half amused because Jungkook might die of a broken heart very soon if he keeps falling in love so easily (and Taehyung knows this is possible because he read it in one of his books someday).

Jungkook can’t even defend himself because he knows he’s doomed. He’s solely and irrevocably doomed, and each time a piece of his heart is taken away just like that, it makes it even harder to get back on his feet again. But girls are reckless. They are evil-like demons, and none of the girls Jungkook ever fell in love with showed any regret in stealing away a piece of him.

“Hi, welcome to Poppy Petals, what can I do for you?” It’s blinding. It really is uncomfortable and Jungkook’s eyebrows frowns at the sight of her smile, he pinches his lips and his face suddenly closes firmly. The woman might think she said something wrong for the way her customer suddenly shut down. Maybe she had only something between in her teeth.

Jungkook doesn’t answer. Abruptly, he isn’t so willing in buying flowers for his mother anyway. Or maybe he’ll just go to another flower shop – and no, he freaking can’t because Jungkook is too dumb and too absent-minded and this freaking lunch with Taehyung took forever so he’s stuck and the only flower shop who’s still open after four is this one. Jungkook makes a note to himself, not to forget about Mother’s Day ever again and never to set foot in this flower shop either.

He won’t fall in love. He won’t allow his heart to increase the rate of his pumps, won’t allow his hands to feel hot and bothered or his cheeks to flush that deep red which usually makes him look like a tomato. He won’t. He’s done this too many times before, got his heart broken too many times and maybe he’s become bitter but. Jungkook. Won’t. Final point.

Life is strange. It brings people in some unexpected places, reunites strangers at some point in time to mark the beginning of a lifetime. It moves around feathers to flow in the wind, and decisions would lead and follow to events no one in the world would be able to predict.

“Don’t fall in love, Kookie,” Namjoon said the next day, when they found themselves around the table of one of the cheapest bars of Seoul. It’s a good piece of advice, because love is mean and harsh, it brings more pain that happiness and that’s all words he ever lived by since his father told him so. It’s not egotistic in its way, it’s just what Namjoon believes and he believes love is just an option.

Love is a choice, to him. It’s most definitely something one can control, and anyone can choose what to do with their heart, where to guide it and where to lie with. He’s been able, his whole life, to wander around, mess around and discover bodies without the possibility whatsoever his heart might get in the way and bother him with feelings.

“Well, don’t fight love then, hyung,” Jungkook replied taking a sip of his beer because Namjoon has been rambling about that incident at the flower shop for what seems like hours and Jungkook knows. He knows they both came across the same girl. That so, so pretty girl with a voice so sweet it might lull him to sleep if he dared closing his eyes while listening to her.

But Jungkook is fighting, he fights a war against love and Namjoon needs rest because that war was initially his but it’s enough. It’s has been raging for too long, and it’s about time they pull a stop.

They know. They both know each other’s heart very well, they have been friends for a long time and Namjoon is aware Jungkook falls with every person who’s nice to him, and it’s no surprise he fell in love with her; on the other hand, Jungkook knows how rough the edges of Namjoon’s heart are, the shape of a man who refuses to give in to love but Namjoon already gave in. Without even noticing, that girl took two pieces of two hearts and there is no reason in the whole wide world for her to do such thing.

What can she do with two pieces of two different hearts?

“I won’t fall if you don’t fight, hyung. What do you say?” Jungkook proposes, reaching out a hand in front of him requesting of a deal.

It’s the beginning of a war. Or maybe it’s just the following battles of the previous one, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that, either of them, there and then, stood emptied of half their heart. For what reasons?

“Deal.”

—-

Something different! I really hope you liked it ♡

- Nageoire

#os #jungkook #namjoon #bts #bts scenario #bts imagine #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #namjoon scenario #namjoon imagine #rm scenario #rm imagine #rap monster scenario

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bladekindeyewear · 4 years

Text

HS^2 bloggin’ mainline 2020-04-13

Happy 4/13 upd8! Glimpsed part of the title when I was checking but otherwise blind.

Time to liveblog this quickly and pile into RevScarecrow’s first-readthrough stream of Cascade. It REALLY hurts to see him tortured having to read through long conversations with dyslexia, but at least he gets to draw purer enjoyment out of the huge flashes.

EDIT: Added an important clarification from a friend to the bottom, regarding the tail end of the upd8.

Well here we go. Whose daughter? Candy Vrissy as Rose/Kanaya’s? Or some weirder metaphorical Roxy/RoboRose thing.

> CHAPTER 8. A Daughter Astray

Huh, not where I thought we’d start a chapter named like that. We can’t leave Candy so soon after cutting to it though.

JANE: Assassinations, open warfare, so-called "revolution," and where has everyone gone? JANE: They've ABANDONED me. They've taken our precious son. And now...

Are we going to see some of the beginnings of John’s plan in action, from her perspective?

> (==>)

Steven King novels??? Like an IT joke? Sure, I guess?

DIRK: Itadakimasu.

I mean he would. Especially the Jake-imagined version of him.

JANE: "An eye for an eye." JANE: Once we have rescued our son from their clutches, I'm going to take something of my own; something as valuable to the rebellion as Tavvy is to me. JANE: Two can play at the hostage game. That loathsome daughter of theirs should fit the bill nicely.

Okay. That’s certainly a plan, I guess.

Wow, she really runs everything by the seat of her pants, doesn’t she.

(She seems less murderous than usual now that the spotlight of HS^2 is on her instead of Epilogue darkness, though, all things considered. Walking back some of the negativity of the Epilogues in general. That’s the impression I get anyway.)

> (Kids: Converse.)

Vriska, come on.

--Oh! Oh and there’s:

That middle photo! Harry, Roxy, and Calliope hanging out, yes! Glad to see Candy Roxy and Callie were definitely not as distant as they appeared throughout the Epilogues when we were being convinced everything was going out-of-character as a Meat!Callie-written fanfic instead of what Roxy would plausibly actually do. (Which... it kinda was, so they need to soften the blow by showing not everything was ruined by the way it was written.)

((And there are lots of cats everywhere, but this is outside Harry’s room so it’s all Roxy, no classpect.))

HARRY ANDERSON: so... HARRY ANDERSON: um. vriska? VRISKA: The one and o........ VRISKA: (Ughhhhhhhh) VRISKA: I mean, yeah. That's me!!!!!!!!

It’s hard to get enough of Vriska’s irritation with her reduced relevance.

VRISKA: From now on your name is just Harry. HARRY: o... k?

Dick move, but I have to thank you for shortening his chat handle there.

HARRY: but um, yeah. john and roxy are my parents.

Yeah, deal with that, Vriska. Nice job wooing John. :)

Aaaand then Harry’s Egbert genes kick in and he starts going off on a tangent describing a piece of media he likes with a situation barely mappable onto this one.

HARRY: ok, so have you ever seen the musical calamity jane? HARRY: i guess you probably haven't. HARRY: but so there's this part at the beginning, where the title character comes back from chicago, and she talks to all of the old-timey locals about how bizarre and new-fangled everything was, and VRISKA: Godddddddd it really is like talking to teenage John all over again. VRISKA: No I haven't seen Chastity Jane or whatever the stupid title was. It sounds like a total snooze!!!!!!!!

Calamity Jane and Chastity Jane. Probably means nothing.

VRISKA: And anyway, what are you trying to say? VRISKA: That I sound outd8ed?

HA. Now you’re a boomer! Eat that Vriska.

HARRY: i mean, we've done stage fighting before, but never the real stuff. HARRY: but i bet i could learn. i took kickboxing with my mom for a month and half when i was nine.

Yaaay Roxy-style martial ar-- oh wait only a month and a half, huh?

We’ll have to see if he’s really as inexperienced and kinda-thinking-too-well-of-himself as he looks, or if this is all just a joke setup for when he proves to be pretty combat capable later.

VRISKA: He totally freaked out the first time I told him I killed some8ody. HARRY: haha, that sounds like my dad.

Harry and Vrissy look clearer together by the minute, dynamic-ways.

But now he's not so sure. Ever since hearing that one of his dad's old friends had turned up, that border between past and present has felt fainter by the minute. And as they talk, he begins to think that Vriska seems so much... fresher. More real. An actual, authentic, bona fide god from another universe. Harry can’t imagine his dad even talking to someone like her, let alone punching her in the face.

Freaking out about murder, though; that's definitely something Harry can see his father doing.

Kind of like a fresh breath of relevance, huh? I mean Vriska had to carry a little in with her.

HARRY: i'm not allowed ONE vriska in my bedroom. HARRY: i don't even want to THINK about how much trouble i'll be in if she finds out i had TWO of them up there.

PFFFF.

And Roxy grew up the kind of mom to set those limits, huh? Nice. She’s definitely proving a less lonely and inscrutable mom than she was to Rose. (And Rose had the additional disadvantages of Horrorterror- and Gamzee-induced fear- and certainty-amplification to help drive her to believe her mother hated her, on TOP of all of Mom’s glaring flaws/abuses vis-a-vis drunken responsibility-aversion.)

HARRY: of course i am freaking out vriska! HARRY: i'm freaking out what i think is probably a good amount about this. the fashionable amount of freaking out.

I’m starting to really take a liking to this asshole.

HARRY: he's going to absolutely flip his fucking lid if he ever finds out about this!! HARRY: or worse, it might just make him as miserable as before, and he'll be really disappointed in me, and then he'll just leave again, or... or SOMETHING!!

Auugh. God damnit, Past!John, raising him to believe this. Luckily, Current!John will most likely disabuse him of the notion at least SOMEWHAT by the end of this story.

BECAUSE JELLICLES CAN AND JEEEEEEELLICLES DO JELLICLES DO AND JELLICLES CAN JELLICLES CAN AND JEEEEEELLICLES HARRY: oh fuck.

Why is he hiding the CATS poster in his room, but has a whole ringtone set up with it? Either a global one or a John-specific one?

Is it John-specific because he has to outwardly play it cool about how much he loves and needs his dad, just like Cats?

VRISSY: Check it out, someone's already cospl8ying my fit from tod8y.

Oh nice! Inborn popularity at work.

VRISSY: Good? It's Infuri8ing!!!!!!!! VRISSY: UGH! So many f8ke accounts pretending to 8e me. Stealing my hard-earned Clout. Fakey f8ke F8KES.

Mhmm, why give up any attention? She wouldn’t want to share it.

VRISSY: Damn Right it's import8nt Tavros! Image is a8out as Important as it gets.

(classpect blah blah)

VRISSY: Relax Tavvy. VRISSY: You're starting to Sweat Nervously. You know I H8te it when you Swe8t Nervously. TAVROS: Thank you,, VRISSY: Th8t wasn't a Fucking H8mance Complim8nt, I do genuinely Hate it and not in a Fun Way. TAVROS: Oh,, TAVROS: I'm,, sorry,,,, VRISSY: Ugh. Whatever. VRISSY: I'm just... 8eing a 8itch. Forget about it.

Look how INCREDIBLY much more mature Vrissy is right here than Vriska ever was.

And Vrissy’s understandably a lot more worried than we are about Vriska moving in on Harry. Even though with Vriska’s experience she would hardly be likely to see anything in him to--

Oh. Fuck, what am I saying. Of COURSE Vriska would be tempted to move in if it meant stealing attention from Vrissy. I keep forgetting this is ORIGINAL VRISKA we’re talking about. That’s got to be a conflict at some point, right?

TAVROS: I know you don't like to talk about these kinds of things,, TAVROS: Having said, on previous occasions, stuff like,, TAVROS: "Feelings are for adults and babies, not real people," TAVROS: And i'm not,, necessarily, saying that you have some unaddressed feelings, TAVROS: But,, maybe if we're going to be around her, TAVROS: You should try to be honest, about the feelings, that you don't have,,

Nailed it like a true Tavros.

VRISSY: It's Something about the W8y she Looks at him. VRISSY: The Rest of us too. VRISSY: Like we're not even Real.

That’s right. Making it important that you be extra careful that she doesn’t hurt you, because she’ll undoubtably or neglectfully TRY.

VRISSY: And to 8e Honest, I think I Understand why! VRISSY: Everything Here is so dwee8ish and 8oring!!!!!!!!

A little more complicated than that, Vrissy.

TAVROS: Because you're worried harry anderson thinks she's cooler than you,, TAVROS: Because you're jealous,,,, VRISSY: W8. VRISSY: What? VRISSY: No! VRISSY: Tavros, were you Listening to 8NYTHING I was Just Saying? VRISSY: I'm not worried a8out Harry Fucking 8nderson right now! VRISSY: Hell, I'm so Unconcerned that I think I'm going to start just calling him Harry from now on! It'll Save Everyone a lot of Valua8le Time! VRISSY: Listen Tavros, Vriska will get 8ored of Harry in a Heart8eat! VRISSY: That's the whole point!!!!!!!! VRISSY: She shouldn't 8e w8sting her Time on someone like Him! VRISSY: SHE SHOULD BE T8LKING T8 ME!!!!!!!!

Hm, jealous of the attention Vriska’s giving Harry, not the other way around. Huh!

And here come the Crocker cops...

> (Harry: Pick up.)

Wait, I don’t understand this picture. Who are those two silhouettes outside? Isn’t this Roxy’s house? (Is that Jake facing away on the left? Them being already here would be pretty good reason for alarm.)

HARRY: ok everyone, my dad's calling. HARRY: if he finds out you're here then he will definitely put two and two together, so PLEASE just keep quiet and let me do the talking.

Is John going to play along? That could be fun.

Hm. If Harry hasn’t turned off his phone’s signal, then that could be a way Jane can find and use him to find Vrissy. (Or already have.)

HARRY: er, HARRY: hi dad. VRISKA: HI JOHN!!!!!!!! VRISSY: Hi Mister Eg8ert!!!!!!!!! HARRY: oh god dammit.

THEIR NEED FOR ATTENTION BYPASSES ALL SURVIVAL INSTINCT.

JOHN: HELLO SON! JOHN: I AM JOHN: SO JOHN: VERY JOHN: PROUD OF YOU!!!!!!!! HARRY: JOHN: PHEW, that felt good to say. JOHN: or to yell, i guess. heheh. JOHN: sorry about that, harry anderson. JOHN: i just didn't think i'd be seeing your handiwork all over the news quite so soon!

Yeah, John really needs to take a page or two out of his Dad’s playbook right now! Because Harry really fucking doubts that his father is proud of him, and John’s Dad would never have let him come under such a misconception.

JOHN: it looks like you tried to pull one of the biggest pranks i can think of. JOHN: and it backfired! HARRY: y... yeah. JOHN: but that's ok!!! JOHN: it could have happened to the best of us. JOHN: ok, so maybe it wasn't the most original idea. JOHN: and you should probably have steered clear of such a blatant nod to weekend at bernie's without seriously planning some of the logistics in advance.

John, please stop so aggressively framing this in terms of YOUR interests.

JOHN: heh. two vriskas is NOTHING. JOHN: when i was your age i lost count of all the vriskas i had to keep track of. JOHN: it was probably some preposterous number.

¬_¬”

JOHN: now, harry anderson, i know that you and tavros haven't always gotten along. JOHN: but i am going to have to ask you to try and look out for him for the time being.

Harry could really use some reassurance from YOU you know? That you’re working to make sure he’ll be okay through all this?

JOHN: your uncle jake and i... well, i'll explain later. JOHN: let's just say that gamzee isn't the only family member jane is losing today. HARRY: dad... if you wanted me to KILL tavros, you only had to ask. TAVROS: (Um,,,) HARRY: couldn't resist.

What? Moved for custody in the divorce?

I feel like the divorce is SOMEHOW involved in whatever John is referring to here. Even though the Epilogues say that Jane initiated it. Maybe we’ll find out later that in the cut from then to now, Jane apologized a bit and didn’t go through with it, but he still had the papers to finalize it, or? No, that doesn’t quite add up with what Jake was afraid of before... hm.

> (==>)

Oh, the paparazzi. THAT’S a problem.

JOHN: the word "fuck" was invented for moments like this.

Nothing to comment on, just had to quote it.

JOHN: some guidelines that any budding prankster or newly fledged fugitive should know. JOHN: don't panic, JOHN: don't make a scene, JOHN: and whatever you do... JOHN: don't get caught!!

This is a reference to something, right?

> (High above the clouds...)

Jesus, that’s a visual. Hi, probably-the-only-source-of-happiness-between-Kanaya-and-Rose-we-might-have-onscreen-up-until-the-very-end. (Are those cat chairs, or just headrests with lil horns?)

As the world seethes with the acid sting of war, they have stood steadfast and resolute; when hope has seemed at its most distant, they have shone as a beacon of possibility.

Further cementing Hope’s ties to possibility, then.

Individually, they each represent immeasurable gains for the rebel faction. The rebellion's stratagems have never had a fiercer bite; their uniforms have never looked so fucking sharp.

Why you gotta do Kanaya like that, narrative?

> (==>)

Full glow? Kanaya must be nervous.

(I don’t think this short hair on Rose quite does the justice that short hair on her should. I suppose it’s punk to match her clothes, though. Still, I feel like short hair should look SO GOOD on Rose and the style chosen just doesn’t here.)

ROSE: I just wish I had answers!! My useless powers aren't being any help, and what's worse, ROSE: I can't see ANYTHING useful on this stupid news channel!!

I can imagine that a Seer of Light might find it harder to operate in a realm long void of most of its relevance, not to mention whatever measure of strength she gave up to concede herself into the “specific” and not ult-self manifest... but there are two Thieves of Light involved here and no Void players, beyond this being at Roxy’s house. Are they really stealing that much visibility from the situation to not blaze like beacons in Rose’s vision?

ALFONZ: excuse me mA'Ams

I don’t know how to feel about this troll’s name or quirk.

Kanaya’s ending every sentence with a shout pole, by the way.

> (==>)

ALFONZ: the reconnAissAnce teAm is bAck eArly, mA'Ams ALFONZ: the ship docked A few moments Ago ROSE: And the scouting party??? ALFONZ: i expect she's Zipping her wAy up here now, mA'Am

Karkat and Meenah? That’s just a singular “she”-- ah fuck it’s Jade isn’t it. The Jade here who had Dave ditch her suddenly to become a robot and abscond without telling her. That’s why there was so much talk about Jade in the background today, dammit. Please still be generally not despairing???

> (==>)

What is that bulky suit????? Is it seven layers of sweaters? Was she scouting the arctic??

> (==>)

Angry camo?

> (==>)

KANAYA: Jade It Is Okay JADE: its........ JADE: *sniffle* KANAYA: Please Take Your Time JADE: we dont HAVE any time!!! JADE: its too late!!!!!! JADE: janes forces were just too fast... KANAYA: Oh No ROSE: You don't mean... JADE: theyve taken her

Jade, you aren’t talking about Vrissy. Who the fuck ARE you talking about? Is this gonna be a punchline again?

> (==>)

JADE: THEYVE TAKEN YIFFY!!!!!!! D:

Okay, I’m hoping for the best but there’s precedent that this is Jade in full fucking despair mode right now. Having named pets like that and being this concerned about them.

Then again, if Dave and Jade had a pet they WOULD name it that wouldn’t they.

> (==>)

Sigh.

Well, let’s hope it’s mostly sunshine and rainbows on Jade’s front, unlike what it looks like?

That can be a caption for HS^2 going into the next two thirds of 2020 like this. “Let’s hope it’s mostly sunshine and rainbows.” Catch y’all another time.

EDIT: Oh fucking MAN, it might not be a pet after all. Quoting Discord:

[REDACTED] Today at 5:20 PM there’s a reason Rose knows but Kanaya wouldn’t possibly and look back at the chapter title BlastYoBoots Today at 5:21 PM I'll... correct that possibility. Did NOT realize it could have been a pet name for Dave instead of a pet. wait, what? no, they'd never have named a daughter that, Dave is NOT that cruel. (unless it could be nickname-shortened to that, that's just enough plausible deniability for Dave to hide behind.) [REDACTED] Today at 5:22 PM If it were a pet name for Dave, why would they use she/her in reference to him? JANE: Two can play at the hostage game. That loathsome daughter of theirs should fit the bill nicely. BlastYoBoots Today at 5:22 PM oh, and you're implying that the surrogate daughter thing happened with Jade and Rose-- [REDACTED] Today at 5:22 PM yes BlastYoBoots Today at 5:22 PM OH, and that they meant like, not Vrissy? [REDACTED] Today at 5:23 PM perhaps BlastYoBoots Today at 5:23 PM Why would Rose NOT tell Kanaya about her then? or is Kanaya just not interested in keeping up to date? [REDACTED] Today at 5:23 PM unless the yiffy ruse is a distaction BlastYoBoots Today at 5:23 PM it would be a pretty spectacular thing to spring on us though, a child the epilogues didn't mention, so...

SO, this could be a cheeky pet name for their daughter, who we’ve never met and Jane just legitimately planned to kidnap in front of us. Making Davebot’s abandonment of this timeline all the more dickish, essential as it might be. On the upside, new interesting HS^2-original characters that have nothing explicitly to do with the epilogues! (Beyond Jade hinting at how a surrogate child would be conceived possibly!) Plus another reason for Jade to steel herself and buck up about Dave not being there, to take care of her daughter, possibly. On the downside... Robo!Dave is going to be a little infuriating. Maybe to make him a little more palatable to miss if he goes down doing anything dramatic.

((EDIT2: "ROSE: Where is John? KANAYA: Where Is Dave" --ah FUCK, I missed that line. So if Kanaya's asking that, Dave probably only just vanished... I really was hoping she wouldn't have to deal with that onscreen.))

#Homestuck #hs2 #Homestuck Liveblog #upd8 #Homestuck^2 #bladekindeyewear #blastyoboots

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darksaiyangoku · 4 years

Text

Bloodlines AU: Apex Cosplays

Joethefriendlyponybro: I've got another skit for y'all. And this time, it's a skit based off of DarkSaiyan's cosplay stories but set in my next gen RWBY AU. Let's see what I can share what strange stuff me and DarkSaiyan came up with, shall we?

[Vale City Comic-Con, the Belladonna-Wukong family's planned vacation spot for quite some time was just down the street. At a nearby bus stop stood Sun and his and Blake's daughter, Alexandria. Alex for short.

Sun wore a mustard-yellow jumpsuit along with brown gloves and tinted orange goggles. His hair was scruffier than usual to reflect his cosplay getup as Mirage from Apex Legends.

To his side sat Alex wearing a mostly black but also purple getup, her long and scruffy black hair wrapped up in a ponytail as Wraith from the same game.]

Sun: Whoo!!!! Haven’t been in cosplay gear in such a long time. I feel like I’m back at school again, hehe.

Alex: *removes eye contacts, revealing green eyes* Dad, when was the last time you dressed up?

Sun: Let’s see.......I think it was back when Team CFVY were visiting Vacuo. We all decided to cosplay as the MCU heroes. *chuckling* I called dibs on Star Lord. Neptune was piiiiiissed!

Alex: *jumps on top of bus stop* I think Elsa wanted to go as Sif this year. But, with tending to her folks' restaurant, I guess she had to work on filling out orders for con-goers.

Sun: Well, at least Ren and Nora are making some great cash with their kids this year. *muttering* Blake isn’t taking this as well as I thought she would...

Alex: Is mom taking it that bad? Sorry, cat ears. Couldn't help but pick it up.

Sun: Not really. She just hasn’t been in cosplay in long time. It’s kinda strange for her to be back in the den of the nerds. That.... and she’s getting looks from some thirsty boys.

Alex: You're both running Menagerie's own combat school. Not to mention ensuing Faunus relations across Remnant- -Wait. Who's ogling my mom? Who do I have to cast a hex on to remind them she's a married woman?

Sun: *points* That guy on the right at the bench on the end of the street.

[She turned to see a man thirsting over a photo of Blake on her Scroll. Alex immediately went into pack mode, shouting at the creep.]

Alex: *glares at creep, eyes glowing turquoise* HEY SHITHEAD! My mom is taken, so why don't you back off before I twist you into a pretzel, fondue you and feed you to an Ursa?! *bares teeth, resembling fangs*

Perv: *looks up* Oh my- -! *runs away*

Sun: *nods head* That’s my girl!

Alex: *grins at Sun, eyes no longer glowing* I aim to please! *looks around* Where is mom, anyway?

Sun: *smiling* Getting a smoothie. I might join her later. You're still meeting up with Rhiannon, right?

Alex: Yeah. Rhiannon and I are supposed to meet up at that smoothie joint. I wonder what's taking both of them so long?

Sun: Probably got sidetracked. You know what Remnant’s like.

[Before they continue, Alex gets ambushed from behind in a surprise embrace by a red-haired, ponytailed girl with green eyes and a blue tunic.]

Rhiannon: Sneak hug!

Alex: MREOW!

Sun: WOAH!!!! Rhiannon, hi!

Rhiannon: *sets Alex down, cackling* What's good, Mr. Wukong?

[Blake shortly followed. Dressed in black military-style gear as she noticed her daughter's friend being as sneaky as ever. She was panting as if she were out of breath and holding a drink.]

Alex: *stands down, blinking* Rhi? I thought you picked a costume.

Blake: *panting* Finally...got...that...smoothie.

Alex: *looks up* Uh, what was the hold up?

Blake: The thirsty boys, honey. They can be a handful.

Rhiannon: Mrs. B tried jogging in her Bangalore costume as well. Guess that thick padding got to her, first.

Blake: In my defense, I didn’t think it would be that heavy. I've definitely jogged in padding before.

Alex: Never said you didn't. So me and Rhi are headed to the park. Dad told me a bit about your cosplay funk. *lowers ears* Something wrong?

Blake: I haven’t done this in a while. I feel kinda rusty. But... *blushing* I needed a break from all the stress so we could be with you and Rhiannon. *looks down sadly*

Alex: *puts hand on Blake's shoulder* Mom, you look fine. That's why we dressed up for this con, right?

Rhiannon: *folds arms* She's got you there, Mrs. B. Not like I went for it. I just wanted to hang with you guys.

Blake: *smiles* True. You’re all right, I gotta loosen up.

Alex: *points up* I request as your daughter and aspiring Huntress to enjoy yourself since there's a lot on our plate once the school year starts back up again. Besides, *phases out torso, arms and lower legs* I can look the part as Wraith with my Semblance.

Blake: *laughs* Okay, I surrender!

Alex: *phases back in* Also, I'll be sure to smoke any thirsty boy who gives you bedroom eyes.

Rhiannon: I can tie 'em up with one of my rope bolts if it'll help.

Blake: I'll handle them myself, girls. But thank you.

Alex: Whatever you say, mom. *hugs Blake* And thanks for paying for this trip.

[Blake smiled, embracing her daughter back.]

Blake: Oh, honey. You deserve a treat for your hard work.

Sun: Did it have to come from my bank account though?

Alex: *releases Blake* Oh. Uh...Rhi?

Rhiannon: I 'unno. Some major bounty or escort mission he undertook? *checks Scroll* Come on, Alex. Let's get our photoshoot done.

Sun: Have fun, pumpkin. Try not to cloak in public.

Alex: Sure, dad. *walks off to the park with Rhiannon*

Sun: So, what mission was it last? The- -The one where I would split my paycheck with you to pay for this con trip?

Blake: I think it was the mission where I teamed up with the Red Flowers to stop a horde of Creeps.

Sun: *puts finger up to chin* Or, was it the trawler escort at Sockeye Junction? You know how pirates get around fishing villages.

Blake: Or maybe it was the one where Yang almost set a town on fire to kill some Arachnoids?

Sun: That's still a dumb name for spider Grimm. I don't know how Professort Port outvoted Oobleck on that but- -Nevermind. *half hugs Blake, wrapping tail around her waste and holding her like a dancer, barely spilling the smoothie* That's a good look for you, bee tee dubs. *grins*

Blake: *giggles* Sun, stop it! We’re in public.

Sun: 20 years of marriage. I think I've earned the chance to do stuff like this with you.

Blake: Gods. You’re so mischievous. *wraps her arms behind Sun’s neck* And that’s why I love you.

Sun: *picks up smoothie with tail* Love you too, babe. Shall I give you some sugar?

Blake: *pulls him in* Do it, honey.

[Sun pulled Blake in for a kiss. They practically glowed like bioluminescent mushrooms as their auras glowed with their embrace. They let go upon hearing a sloshy splat hit the pavement.]

Sun: *notices spilled smoothie* Uh, whoops.

Blake: Oh no! *teary-eyed* Damn you gravity!

Sun: Uh...I think there are milkshakes at the local Beetroot's we can get instead. Plus, their new salmon burger looks pretty good. *pulls out debit card* And I got membership there! Huah! *tosses debit card into smoothie pile* ...Man, how did the shopkeep do it back then?!

Blake: ...I like salmon.

Sun: See? Win-win! And I'll pay for the milkshakes.

Blake: *small smile* I’d like that.

Sun: Good husband powers no jutsu! *roundhouse kicks, tripping and landing ass-first into the smoothie pile, crushing cup* Ah, crap. These jeans were a rental.

Blake: *laughing* I guess now we’re even!

Sun: Yay. Anyway, onto the burgers! *wraps arm and tail around Blake* I'll let you wear my cosplay goggles for sex tonight~! *winks*

Blake: *purring* Mmm, I like sound of that.

BLATANT TRANSITION THING

Joethefriendlyponybro: Well, that was certainly something. Hopefully your viewers enjoy it as much as I enjoyed doing this skit with you. This was fun, thanks.

DarkSaiyanGoku: Don’t mention it bro, always happy to help out. I might do more of these RPs more often with anyone else, if they ask.

#joethefriendlyponybro #submission #rwby #rwby fanfiction #rwby next gen #rwby bloodlines #sun wukong #blake belladonna #blacksun #rwby blacksun #blacksun rwby #sun x blake #blake x sun #sun wukong x blake belladonna #blake belladonna x sun wukong #rhiannon orion #alex belladonna #rwby oc

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myownsuperintendent · 5 years

Text

New Fic: “Stomach Flu”

Emily brings home the stomach flu from kindergarten. Soon Scully catches it too--or does she? MSR, AU fluff, vomit content warning. Also here at Ao3.

.....

Mulder wakes to the sound of a voice in the darkness. “Mommy? Daddy?” Next to him, Scully stirs. “I threw up.”

Scully switches on the light. “You did, huh?” she says, surveying Emily, who’s standing next to the bed. Her face is flushed, and there’s evidence of the throwing up on her pajama top.

Emily nods. “On my bed too.”

“Poor thing,” Scully says, starting to get out of bed. “Do you still feel sick?”

“I don’t know,” Emily says.

“Well, we’ll get you cleaned up and we’ll take your temperature,” Scully says; she’s all the way out of bed now, and she takes Emily’s hand. “And we’ll see how you’re doing.”

“You’ll be okay, Em,” Mulder says. He gets out of bed as well now, and they all make their way across the hall to Emily’s room.

He handles stripping and remaking the bed (thankfully Emily’s teddy bear was spared); he can hear Scully talking to Emily from the bathroom. “Hmm,” she says. “You do have a little bit of a fever, sweetheart. Does your stomach hurt?”

“A little.”

“Were you feeling sick before you went to bed?” Scully continues. “Or did you just wake up and feel sick?”

“I just woke up.”

“Well, you’re all cleaned up now,” Scully says, “so I’m going to give you some medicine, and then you can go back to bed. I think sleeping will help you feel better.” He hears Emily protesting the medicine, as she inevitably does, and he smiles to himself as he puts a fresh blanket on the bed: she can’t be feeling too, too awful.

“It tastes bad.”

“I know,” Scully says. “But it’ll help you feel better. Do you feel like you might throw up again, if you go back to bed?”

“I don’t know,” Emily says.

“We’ll leave you the basin then,” Scully says. “Just in case.” They come back to the bedroom then, Emily in clean pajamas now.

“How’re you feeling, Em?” he asks her. She shrugs, and he stoops down to give her a hug. “Like your mom said,” he tells her, “let’s get you back into bed. And you might feel all better in the morning.” He tucks her in, and they both kiss her goodnight and tell her she can come get them again if she needs anything.

“She has a fever?” he asks Scully as they’re heading back to their own bed.

Scully nods. “A small one. I think it’s just a bug. But we’ll see how she’s doing tomorrow.”

“She’s got a good doctor in the house,” he says, and Scully manages a smile at that.

In the morning, Emily throws up again; Scully tends to her while Mulder goes to call the school. “They said they’re not surprised,” he says, coming back to Emily’s room, where Scully is tucking her back into bed. “There’s a stomach flu going around at the school.”

“That would explain it,” Scully says. “Have other kids in your class been out sick, sweetheart?”

Emily nods. “Katie. And Alex J.”

“Well, you’ll probably have to stay home for a couple of days,” Scully says. “But I’ll stay with you, and we can do some fun things.”

“Will you read to me?” Emily asks.

“Of course I will,” Scully says. “What book would you like?”

“Betsy-Tacy,” Emily says, after a minute, and Scully goes to get it from the shelf.

“You’ll tell Skinner I’m not going to be in?” she asks, looking up at Mulder from her position next to the book case.

“You can count on me,” he says. “Sure you don’t want me to stay?”

“We’ll be fine,” she says. “I’ll call you to check in, though.” He doesn’t protest this. Since last year, when he and Scully got married and he officially adopted Emily, he’s taken on his share of everything—even the unpleasant tasks (taking Emily to the dentist), especially the pleasant ones (receiving elaborate crayon drawings with accompanying hugs)—but Scully still takes charge when it comes to sickness. This is partially because she knows more about it and partially because she’ll go crazy if she doesn’t get to; he stayed home with Emily once, when she had a bad cold, and Scully called them roughly every thirty minutes to see how she was doing. So he’ll hold down the fort with the X-Files today, and Scully will spend the day with Emily, reading books and heating up soup. He knows she worries, even though Emily hasn’t been really sick since those first days. He worries with her. But this time Emily will be okay, he thinks; it’s just a stomach flu, just something that’s going around the school. He kisses them both goodbye before he goes.

He talks to Scully on the phone around noon—Emily’s napping, after having had some soup, and her fever is down a bit. He leaves work a little early and stops at the store on the way home, where he picks up a coloring book and a Beanie Baby cat. He comes into the apartment quietly, in case she’s sleeping again, but she’s awake; he finds the two of them sitting in Emily’s room, Scully reading to her again. “Hi there,” he says. “Feeling better, Em?”

“My stomach still hurts,” she says.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says. “I hope it feels better really soon. Here, I brought you some things. To keep you company while you have to stay home.” He holds out the coloring book and the cat, and Emily’s eyes light up.

“Thank you, Daddy,” she says, taking the cat into her arms, looking at the tag to see what its name is. Scully smiles too, watching her.

“How was work?” she asks.

“Just paperwork,” he says. “Boring without you.”

“Without being able to pawn it off on me, you mean,” she says, still smiling.

“When did I ever do that?” he asks.

“Mommy was reading me Betsy-Tacy,” Emily says. “But we’re almost finished. Maybe we’ll read the second one tomorrow. If I’m still sick.”

“Well, we certainly hope you’re not,” Scully says. “But if you are, of course I’ll read to you.”

“Okay,” Emily says. She looks tired, and still a little flushed, but content.

Emily throws up again the next morning, which means another day home from kindergarten. She talks to Mulder when Scully calls him that afternoon. “My stomach feels funny,” she says. “And I had to have medicine. But we’re reading Betsy-Tacy and Tib. And I colored a picture of birds in the book you gave me.”

“I can’t wait to see it,” he tells her. “You keep resting, sweetheart. And listen to your mom, even if she gives you more medicine. She’s a really good doctor, you know.”

“I know,” she says, sounding wiser than a five-year-old has any right to. “But I still don’t like medicine.”

“Nobody does,” he says. “But we all have to take it, from time to time. Even if we don’t like it.” He’s still not sure if he’s the right person to be giving lessons on doing things that are good for you even when you don’t like them. He’s avoided that often enough. But he’s Emily’s dad now, so it’s his job, and he’ll try to do the best with it he can.

Her stomach still hurts the next morning, but the fever is gone, and she doesn’t throw up again. By the evening, when he gets home, she’s feeling almost all better. “I think we’ll keep you home tomorrow,” Scully says, “just in case. And it’ll be Friday anyway. But I bet you can go back on Monday. Good as new.” She smoothes Emily’s hair.

“Good as new,” Emily repeats.

He wakes suddenly on Friday morning, sure that Emily’s sick again; he hears the unmistakeable sounds of someone throwing up. But when he goes to investigate, it’s Scully, bent over the toilet in their bathroom. “Oh, honey,” he says. He kneels down beside her, putting one hand on her back, holding her hair with the other. “Emily’s stomach flu?” he asks, when she’s finished and is sitting back, with a clammy look to her face that he’s seen on their daughter over the past week.

“Looks like it,” she says, disgust evident in her voice. He doesn’t know which she hates more, seeing Emily sick or being sick herself. It’s a very close race.

“It’s okay,” he tells her. “We’ll all stay home today. I’ll take care of both of you. All right?”

She nods—probably because she doesn’t have a choice—and he goes to call Skinner while she gets back into bed. When Emily gets up, she’s a lot brighter and more energetic than she’s been, which he senses may pose a challenge. “Your mom’s sick this morning,” he tells her. “She has the stomach flu now too.”

Emily looks sober. “I could read to her now. And she can color in my book if she wants. There are still five pictures left. She can have the one of the puppies.” He can tell from the tone of her voice that this is a tremendous sacrifice.

“I don’t think your mom would want to take that from you,” he says.

“Well, she can have another one of the pictures then,” Emily says. “I’ll go give her the book right now.” She starts for their bedroom, coloring book in hand.

“Em,” he says, calling her back; she turns and looks at him. “Just be…gentle, okay? Your mom doesn’t feel well, and she might just want to rest.”

Emily nods. “I know,” she says. “I just wanted to rest, all week.” She looks very serious about it, so he makes sure he doesn’t laugh. “I’ll be very nice.”

“Okay,” he says, and Emily goes into the bedroom.

Scully declines the offer of a picture to color, but she suggests that Emily sit next to her and color one herself, which seems to suit her just as well. Mulder brings tea for Scully and apple juice for Emily, and Emily insists on reading the end of Betsy-Tacy and Tib to her mom. “Because you read to me all week,” she says. Mulder sits next to them and listens too, as Emily carefully sounds out the words.

Emily seems to be feeling entirely better by the end of the day, and even Scully isn’t feeling as bad as she did in the morning. “Maybe I don’t have Emily’s stomach flu after all,” she says, hopefully, as they sit around the kitchen table eating soup.

“That would be good,” Mulder says, “for all of us,” and she rolls her eyes at him.

But she’s throwing up again, the next morning, looking thoroughly annoyed with the entire situation. Mulder brings more soup, more tea, more crackers. Emily offers to read another story. “You’ll feel better soon, Mommy,” she says, brushing Scully’s hair back from her forehead with a gesture he’s seen Scully use on her many times. She really does pick up everything. It still astonishes him.

Emily’s stomach flu lasted five days, but Scully’s is still going strong after a week. And then a week and a half. “Will Mommy get better soon?” Emily asks him at breakfast one morning, when he’s trying to get her ready for school and check on Scully at the same time.

“I hope so, sweetheart,” Mulder says. “Sometimes it just takes a little while.”

“Will she have to go to the hospital?” Emily has a complicated fascination-repulsion relationship with the concept of hospitals, these days.

“Well, we hope she’ll get better on her own,” Mulder says, “but if she did go to the hospital, that wouldn’t be a terrible thing. Hospitals are there to help people get better. We’ve all been in hospitals, right? Me and you and your mom. And they’ve helped us all.”

“Yeah,” Emily says, but she sits there after that, pushing the cereal back and forth in the bowl with her spoon instead of finishing it.

He decides he won’t push it. “Your mom is so strong,” he says. “She’s going to be fine.” He gives her an extra hug when he drops her off that morning. He thinks they both need it.

Because he’s more worried than he’ll show in front of Emily. He’s beginning to think that Scully may have been right—that she doesn’t have Emily’s stomach flu—only he’s not so sure that’s a good thing, now. He’s afraid this might be something worse. He can’t help thinking about four years ago, seeing her so sick. And they weren’t even…now they have so much more to lose. Whatever he said to Emily, he doesn’t like the idea of Scully needing to go to the hospital. But he doesn’t like the idea of her not going, either, if this isn’t just some ordinary illness.

He goes to check on her when he gets home; she’s lying in bed, trying to read the newspaper and looking clammy. “How’re you feeling?” he asks.

She shrugs. “I’ve been better.”

“Do you…” He floats the suggestion cautiously. “Do you think you might need to go to the doctor?”

“I am a doctor,” she says.

“Fully aware of that,” he says, trying to smile, trying not to jump to frightening conclusions. “But you can’t…I don’t know, look down your own throat.”

Her smile is weak, but at least she’s not too sick to smile. “True. But I’m fine, Mulder. I’m just taking a little longer to get over this, that’s all. It’s probably because we’ve been so busy recently. You get run down.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Maybe we can take some extra time off in December, when Em’s off from school. Go on vacation. Somewhere warm.”

“Oh,” she says. “Oh, that sounds so nice,” and her smile is stronger now.

“Then it’s a plan,” he says. “You just work on feeling better before then.”

“It’s only October, Mulder,” she says. “I’m sure I’ll feel better soon.”

But she’s not better, the next week, and he decides that they can’t keep going on like this. “Scully,” he says, one morning when she’s just returned from throwing up in the bathroom for the third time. He feels like he might be taking advantage of her weakened state, but if he can get her to go to the doctor, he doesn’t care. “You need to see a doctor about this.”

“No, I don’t,” she says. “It’s just the stomach flu.”

“It’s not the stomach flu.”

“It is,” she says. “I caught it from Emily.”

“This is nothing like what Emily had,” he says. “She got over it in five days, and she was feeling better all the time. You’ve had this…whatever it is…for more than two weeks now. And you keep feeling worse. Don’t you?” She doesn’t answer, which he knows how to interpret. “So it’s not the stomach flu.”

“Okay, maybe it’s not,” she says. “But that doesn’t mean I need to see a doctor.”

“Yes, you do,” he says. “Scully, I hate seeing you like this.”

“It’s not all about you.”

“Well, it’s more about you,” Mulder says, “but I think it’s about me a little. We are married. Last I checked, that meant I was allowed to worry about you.”

“There isn’t anything to worry about,” Scully says, but there’s no conviction in her words.

He sits down next to her on the bed, putting an arm around her shoulders. “Hey,” he says, “what’s going on? Why don’t you want to see a doctor?” She doesn’t say anything. “Honey,” he says, gently. “Talk to me.”

“I don’t think it’s the stomach flu either,” she says, quietly. “What if…what if I’m sick again, Mulder?”

“Well, I don’t think it’s the stomach flu,” Mulder says, “but it’s…it’s probably not anything that bad, Scully. It wasn’t like this before, was it? Not the same symptoms?”

She shakes her head. “No. But that doesn’t mean…it still could be…I just don’t know.”

He holds her tight. “That’s why you need to see a doctor, honey. It might be something that’s really easy to fix. And even if it’s not…well, they’ll be able to take care of you. Do something about it. I don’t want you getting sicker.”

“I don’t want that either,” she says. “Of course I don’t.”

“We need you,” he says. “Me and Emily. She’s worried about you too, you know. So will you please go to see a doctor?”

She nods slowly. “Give me my phone,” she says. “I’ll make an appointment for tomorrow.”

The next morning, he half asks her if he can come along and half tells her that he will be coming; she seems to like the idea, though, especially since she doesn’t feel well enough for driving. He holds her hand in the waiting room and sits next to her once she’s in with the doctor, explaining her symptoms, taking tests. He holds her hand again while they’re waiting for the doctor to come back with the results.

She squeezes his hand, tightly. “Did you think she sounded concerned?”

“I’d hope she’s concerned,” Mulder says. “That’s her job.”

“You know what I mean,” Scully says. “I mean, do you think she thought I was…?” She trails off, a nervous look on her face.

“Scully, no,” he says. “We’re here now. Let’s just…let’s just wait and hear what she has to tell us.” Doing that is hard for him too, but he tries to keep his voice calm, tries to reassure her as best he can. “Whatever happens,” he says, “I’ll be there. With whatever you need.”

“I know you will,” Scully says. “But Emily, Mulder. She’s already been through so much…if I’m sick again…”

He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t want to think about the possibilities. “We’ll take care of each other,” he says. “That’s a promise.” He means it, but he feels like it doesn’t mean much. Scully doesn’t say anything more, just holding his hand tightly until the doctor comes back in.

“I have your test results, Dana,” she announces. “And I’m happy to say that you’re not ill.”

“What do you mean?” Scully asks.

“You’re pregnant,” the doctor says, and Mulder stares, because those were not words he expected to hear. Not now, not about Scully, not about them. “Based on the information you gave me, I’d say that you’re about two months along.”

“I…what?” Scully says. From the expression on her face, she’s as shocked as Mulder is, maybe even more so. She keeps opening and closing her mouth, and she doesn’t seem able to form a complete sentence. “I…what…how…but I can’t…”

“I know this can come as a surprise,” the doctor says. “We’re happy to offer you help and resources—”

“No! This is…it’s good,” Scully says. Her hand is still lying against Mulder’s, and he takes it between both of his own; she gives him a stunned smile. “I just…they said I couldn’t…how?”

The doctor looks a bit confused; since he’s the one here for moral support, Mulder figures he ought to try to explain to her. “I...they said…” He’s not feeling much more articulate than Scully is at the moment—this is too wondrous—but he makes his best effort. “We thought she couldn’t get pregnant,” he manages. “Not that we’re not happy…” And that’s strange too, that he’s saying how he feels to this doctor, someone he’s never met before. That the moment isn’t just him and Scully. “Do you know why?”

“These things do happen,” the doctor says. She doesn’t have a better explanation than they do, apparently. Scully’s still gaping at him.

“Do you think…could we have a minute?” he finally says. He wants to try to wrap his head around this, and he knows Scully does too, and he thinks they might be able to do that slightly better without the doctor.

“Of course,” she says. “I’ll be back soon with some more information for you.” And she turns and goes.

“Mulder…” Scully breathes, once they’re alone. “Mulder, I’m…did she just say…”

“I think so,” he says. He presses her to him; maybe that will show her what he doesn’t have the words for now. “I think so.”

“How do you think…?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “I mean, we have been doing plenty of what usually causes it…” She laughs, but when she looks up at him there are tears in her eyes. He feels them in his own, too.

“You’re happy about it too, right?” she says. “I know we never thought…”

“Scully, of course I’m happy,” he says. “How could I not be?” He kisses her, the top of her head, her cheek, her lips. He presses one hand to her belly, gently; she doesn’t look any different than she did ten minutes ago, of course, but this new knowledge makes everything feel like it’s changed. “If this baby’s even half as amazing as Emily,” he tells her, “it’s going to be one of the greatest kids who ever lived.” He pauses. “I don’t like saying ‘it.’ When can we find out if it’s a boy or a girl?”

“Not this early, usually,” Scully says. “Do you want to find out, though?”

It’s not a question he’s ever thought about. It’s not a question he’s ever thought he would get to think about. “I think so,” he says. “If you do.”

“I think so too,” Scully says. “Mulder…we’re going to have a baby.” She kisses him again. “I’m just…oh God, I’m so happy.” She shakes her head. “I still don’t understand how, though.”

“A miracle,” Mulder says. “An impossible thing before breakfast.”

She laughs. “Maybe you’re right. I didn’t have breakfast.”

“Do you feel like eating now?” he asks. “It’s good for you to eat. Right?”

“I think it’s good for everyone to eat, yes,” Scully says. She hasn’t stopped smiling.

“Well, when we get out of here, I’ll take you for breakfast. Or lunch. Or brunch. Or whatever meal it’s time for now,” he says. They haven’t really been here that long, but it feels like it’s another epoch now. “I told you I’d be here with whatever you needed, right?”

“You did,” Scully says. “And I’m going to hold you to that.”

“I’d be offended if you didn’t,” he says, and he holds her close, and he kisses her again. They’re going to have a baby. In the spring, they’ll have two children. He wonders how he got to be so lucky, all of a sudden. That seems like its own miracle.

It’s almost one when they leave the doctor’s office, armed with informational pamphlets and the date of Scully’s next appointment. They go to eat, smiling at each other across their meals, their hands touching on the tabletop. Then they go to pick up Emily from kindergarten.

“We should still take that vacation,” Scully says on the drive over, “the one you were talking about last week. We’re going to be extra busy soon, you know.”

“Good thinking,” he says.

“And it’ll be nice to do that with Emily,” she adds, “while she’s still the baby.”

“Yeah,” he says, smiling. “I hope she’ll be happy too, though. When she finds out.”

“It’s a little early to tell her,” Scully says. “But in a couple of months…I hope she will too. It’ll be more change for her.”

“But some changes are good,” Mulder says, and Scully nods. “And anyway, she’ll be happy today to see that you’re out of bed.”

That certainly proves to be the case. “Mommy!” Emily squeals as they collect her outside her classroom. They usually trade off with pick-up duty, but Mulder’s been doing it singlehanded for the last couple of weeks. “You’re here!”

“I am,” Scully says, stooping down to hug her. “And I’m very happy to be.”

“So you’re feeling better?” Emily asks, clinging to Scully’s hand as they walk back to the car.

“Yes, much better,” Scully says. “I went to the doctor today, and she said there’s nothing wrong with me. And I should be feeling all better soon.”

“That’s good,” Emily says. “That’s so good.”

Emily insists that Scully sit in the back with her on the way home (Mulder keeps glancing at them in the rearview mirror), and when they get back to the apartment she drags her to sit with her on the couch while she colors. Scully obliges, smiling, brushing back Emily’s hair, and Mulder joins them too, watching them both. Scully catches his eye then, and they share a look over Emily’s head; he knows they’re both thinking about the future, about what they have coming. There’ll be more time to talk about it later, but right now Emily wants them to show them her picture, and they turn to look at that.

#my fic #the x files #msr #emily sim #fluff #cw: vomit

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finn-nelson-for-the-win · 5 years

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The Good Life

Hello, my lovelies! This is my new multi-chapter story that I’ve been mentioning for a while now. It took longer than I’d like for me to get the ball rolling on it, but I have the first 5ish chapters written and/or mapped out and I really think this story is gonna be a fun one.

I’m still compiling my tags list, so if you want to be added (or removed) from the tags list for this story and/or all my writing in general, just feel free to let me know!

@pink-royaute @believethaticanandiwill

The Good Life: Chapter 1

“Do you want anything from the kitchen while I’m up, sweets?” Chloe asked as she walked across the room.

“No thanks. I just have one more person to call and then we can get started, yeah?”

Chloe shrugged and went into the kitchen, leaving Rae alone in the living room.

After finding the contact information from her email inbox, Rae entered the phone number into her cell phone and pressed the green phone icon to make the call.

“Hello?” sing-songed the voice that picked up the call.

“Uh, hiya! Is this Alex?” Rae asked tentatively.

“That’s me! How can I help ya?”

“My name is Rae, well technically Rachel, but I’ve been corresponding with you via email about the room that is for rent.”

“Oh, yes! I’ve been expecting your call! Did you have more questions for me?”

“I do, actually! Just a second,” Rae scrolled down on the webpage open on her laptop, skimming the page until she found what she was looking for. “So, I’m looking at the listing for the open room that’s for rent and it doesn’t mention having a private bathroom or how many bathrooms there are,” Rae trailed off.

“There is a master bathroom attached to my bedroom and a guest bathroom,” the voice on the other end of the phone call said in reply to Rae’s implied question, “If you are interested in renting the open room, you’ll be sharing the guest bathroom with three other people.”

“Three people would share the guest bathroom in addition to me?”

“Yeah! There’re two other girls and one of their boyfriends just recently moved in as well. So it would be the four of you sharing the bathroom at the end of the hall.”

“Oh! The listing didn’t mention that there were only two bathrooms. Is the monthly rent on your website listing for the room correct?”

“Yeah! That bedroom has a south-facing window, which has a really nice view of the neighborhood park, so it’s more expensive than the others. The price online also doesn’t include internet, cable, or any of those extra things that we divide up evenly.”

“Huh, I see…” Rae mumbled as she typed this information into the open note she had on her laptop with details about apartments she was looking into.

“Did you want to arrange a time with me and the others to come see the room that’s for rent? Or did you have any other questions?”

“I think that’s all the questions I had for you right now. I’m still looking around, but I’ll stay in contact.”

“Alright! That works for me. Have a nice day, Rachel!”

“You too, Alex! And thanks again for the information,”

After ending the phone call, Rae set her phone down on the coffee table in front of her and sat back on the couch, heaving a drawn-out sigh.

“Wow, that bad, huh?” Chloe asked from the kitchen as she finished getting herself and Rae glasses of wine.

“Well, it certainly wasn’t great,” Rae replied with a humorless chuckle, “but at least it wasn’t as bad as the girl that said the room for rent would be shared with her Burmese Python named Daisy.”

“I don’t know...after we met up with ‘goat boy’ who was trying to rent out his mom’s basement without her knowledge, Daisy started to seem like she might not be the worst roommate you could wind up with,” Chloe added causing Rae to smile and shake her head at the memory.

“She was kind of cute afterall, but she had no concept of personal space!”

“In all seriousness, maybe you’re just not looking in the right places, Rae-Rae,” Chloe mused as she handed Rae her glass of wine and set the bottle on the coffee table beside Rae’s laptop so she did not have to get up to refill their glasses.

“I’ve been trying to look everywhere, but nothing that I find seems to match what I’m looking for, I suppose.”

“I’m sure you’ll find something that works for you!”

“I appreciate your optimism, Chlo, but I’m not so sure. You remember how hard it was for me to find my current studio apartment, right? And that was without any type of time constraint or added stress. I just don’t know what I’m gonna do if I can’t find somewhere else to live. I’m barely making rent and all my other bills on time every month and since I had to add on another semester to finish my degree, I’m going to have to pay for the upcoming semester of Uni out of pocket. I can’t afford to not find a cheaper place to live and I can’t afford to live alone anymore!”

“Well you still have plenty of time, right? When was it that you said your lease was up?”

“I put in my 60-day notice yesterday, so I have until about mid-June to find something before I have to be out of my current place.”

“See? You have plenty of time to find something! Just keep looking around and I’ll ask around with some of the people I know at work and be sure to let you know what I find, alright?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I am! And if you’re still unable to find somewhere to live by the time you have to be out of your studio apartment, my offer still stands.”

“It’s very sweet of you to offer to convert the extra room in your apartment into a bedroom for me to live in, but if I moved in with you it would double my commute time to work, which is bad enough already. Not to mention, I’d feel like such a mooch if I lived here rent-free,” Rae said as she looked around at the upscale and modern decor of Chloe’s living room.

“Who said I’d let you live here rent-free?” Chloe joked.

“That’s very true. How rude of me to have assumed such a thing!”

“Anyways...that’s more than enough stress for you to deal with in one day, Rae-Rae! Now, let’s get back to our weekly movie night! There are cheesy romantic comedies to watch and this bottle of wine isn’t gonna drink itself!” Chloe replied cheerfully as she grabbed the remote to start the movie.

A/N: So this story has been drafted, written/rewritten, scrapped, tabled, and ignored for close to a year now for no particular reason other than I didn’t have a clear idea of where I wanted it to go and I couldn’t bring myself to start yet another multi-chapter story that I lost interest in and hit a wall with (sorry you had to find out like this, but that is where I’m at with two of my multi-chapter stories that I was writing in the latter half of last year, which is why there hasn’t been an update in months :/ ). Fear not, my loves! I have a good feeling about this story and I’m trying a slightly different approach to this story, so wish me luck that it’ll work out for me!

This chapter is quite short and doesn’t really do too much aside from plot development and providing some information that will be relevant in later chapters, so please bear with me because this story will be a bit slow to get up and running, but it should definitely pick up by the 3rd chapter or so.

Thank you for reading and I would love to hear any thoughts/opinions/questions/general feedback you may have about this chapter! Until next time: Stay awesome, my friends! :)

#my writing #mmfd fanfic #my mad fat diary #my mad fat diary fanfiction #finn-nelson-for-the-win #The Good Life #idk if y'all remember or not but I actually posted a teaser to this story a while back #don't feel obligated to go on a scavenger hunt on my blog to find the teaser chapter tho #we'll be getting to that point in the story soon enough #this story is going to be equal parts fluff and fun and it's all based on real events so that makes it even more fun for me as a writer!#idk about all of you but I'm pretty fucking excited to get this story started!!!!#the good life: ch1

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write-havoc · 5 years

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The Glasswing Butterfly Part 11

Summary: Chuck has never thought of herself as anything special. Just an average beta living her life next door to a womanizing alpha named Negan. But her life, and Negan’s too, are turned upside down when Chuck suddenly presents as omega.

This is a non-zombie AU featuring A/B/O dynamics.

Fandom: The Walking Dead AU

Pairing: Negan/Original Female Character

Status: Ongoing

Contains: swearing, smut

Intended for readers 18+ of age only

Masterlist in my bio

“So, how’d it go?” Diane asks excitedly from her seat opposite her daughter at their usual table in their favorite coffee shop. When Chuck had told Diane about Negan asking her out to dinner, she was a little nervous at first, but then she decided to put her trust in Negan. Now, she’s trying to get the details out of Chuck to make sure that trust wasn’t misplaced.

Chuck can’t help but smile as she thinks about the night before. “It was really nice. The restaurant was the fanciest I’ve ever been in and the food was awesome.”

“Negan behaved himself?” Diane asks after taking a sip of her coffee.

“Actually, he was a perfect gentleman. Opened doors, held out chairs, the whole nine yards.”

“I shouldn’t expect to be a grandma in nine months, should I?”

“God, Mom!” Chuck’s face turns bright red at the insinuation. “No! You don’t have to worry about that.”

Diane holds her hands up. “Just asking.”

Chuck shakes her head at her mother’s antics. “We’re taking our time with that kind of stuff,” she explains.

“I’m glad Negan is being a gentleman, then.”

“He is, actually.”

“Why don’t you invite him over for your birthday?”

“That’s not for a couple weeks yet.”

“It’ll give him time to get you a gift.”

“He doesn’t have to get me anything. I’m not even sure if we’re at the gift giving stage in our relationship, yet. We’ve only had one date.”

Diane raises her eyebrows. “You guys don’t exactly follow the normal handbook, though.”

Chuck shrugs a little. “I guess.”

“Ask him, anyway.”

“Okay.”

Diane brings her cup up to take a sip of her coffee “Since, uh...” she clears her throat. “Since we’re on the subject of my possible grandchildren-”

“We weren’t on that subject,” Chuck interrupts. “We moved past that to never be mentioned again.”

“Seriously, sweetie. I’ve been asking around the hospital and googling a lot about your birth control options.”

Chuck groans at the embarrassing topic. “Mom...”

“You’re in a relationship now, Chuck. And you need to be prepared. You are not ready for a child.”

“I know that. I don’t want a kid right now.”

“Then you need some form of birth control. And since you can’t take the suppressants, it’s going to be more complicated for you.”

Chuck’s face is bright red at her mother’s choice of topic. “Really, Mom?” She lets out a petulant groan.

“Charlotte Josephine,” is all Diane has to say for her daughter to straighten up.

Chuck lets out a huff. “Condoms don’t seem that complicated. And I’m pretty sure Negan knows how to use them.”

Diane ignores her daughter’s sarcasm. “Condoms don’t work with a knot, honey.”

“They don’t?”

“No. They’ll break or slide off.”

“Oh.” Chuck didn’t know that. She never needed to know that before now. “Then... what?”

“There’s a thing called an omega condom. It’s like a regular female condom that betas use, but it’s able to take a knot.”

“Oh. I remember seeing ‘omega condom’ mentioned on the Alpha For You app, but I didn’t realize it was something different from a normal... condom. I think they would’ve provided them for me if I used their services.” Chuck shrugs a shoulder. “Well, I’ll just pick some up from the pharmacy myself, then.”

“Only alphas can buy them. With a prescription.”

Chuck scrunches up her face. “What? Why? That’s stupid. Anyone can buy normal condoms.”

“There’s still people that don’t want omegas to be independent. Suppressants only became legal twenty years ago. And that was just because omegas in heat were sending alphas into rut. And people were getting hurt.” Diane takes a drink of her coffee before continuing. “The omega condom lets omegas go into heat but not get pregnant, so I guess the old white alphas in the government are against it.”

Chuck lets out a heavy breath. “God,” she calls out on disgust. “Why is it anyone else’s business if an omega doesn’t want a kid?”

“Because they see it as an omega taking the opportunity to have a kid away from an alpha . And alphas’ rights always trump everyone else’s, it seems.”

“Well that sucks.”

“It does.”

Chuck scratches at her face as she lets out a sigh. “So I have to get Negan to buy me some omega condoms.”

“Yes.”

Chuck throws her head back and groans. “As if this stuff wasn’t awkward enough!”

Later that day when Chuck gets back to her building, she stands waiting for the elevator in the lobby. When the doors open, she’s surprised to see Negan standing in the elevator with his hamper of laundry.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

As Chuck enters the elevator, the smell of Negan’s freshly washed laundry fills her nose. “Did you have to fight for a dryer this time?”

Negan leans forward to hit the close door button. “I punched Mrs. Grant right in the face when she tried to get the last open one.”

Chuck laughs at his joke. “I’m pretty sure she can hold her own, so you probably just made her mad.”

“Probably.” He laughs. “I really should stop fuckin’ waiting until Sunday afternoon to do laundry. It’s like the fuckin’ thunderdome down there.”

She laughs. “I wouldn’t be caught dead down there on Sundays.”

The doors open on their floor and they both exit.

Chuck clears her throat, getting Negan’s attention. “Can I talk to you about something? Well, two things actually.”

“Of course, sweetheart. You can’t talk to me about fuckin’ anything.”

“Okay.”

When they get into Negan’s apartment, he sets his clothes in his bedroom then comes back out to sit next to Chuck on the couch.

She lets out a heavy breath. “Remember I told you I was going out for coffee with my mom today?”

He smiles at her, wondering where this is going. “I remember.”

“Well... First off, my mom wanted me to invite you over to her house for my birthday on the seventeenth.”

“Oh.” He was expecting something much less innocuous to come out of her mouth.

“You don’t have to,” she’s quick to say. “It’s just gonna be me and my mom and Uncle Aaron.” She shrugs, not wanting him to feel obligated.

“No, no. Of course I’ll celebrate your fuckin’ birthday with you.”

His answer makes her smile. “Okay. I’ll tell her. She usually makes a dinner and then we have cake.”

“Sounds fuckin’ great.”

She nods, stalling for time on the other subject she wanted to talk about.

Negan watches her for a moment, seeing the gears turning behind her eyes. “And the other thing...?”

She lets out a breath. “Well... My mom brought up... Uh. Well, you know... With my condition and all...”

He sees her getting flustered. “Just breathe, sweetheart,” he coos as he places his arm around her.

“I can’t take suppressants,” she blurts out finally. “Which means I’m not on birth control.”

“Ah.” Negan lifts his arm off of her shoulders to tuck it in by his side. “I see.”

“And my mom said condoms won’t take knots.”

He scrubs his hand down his face as he thinks over what she’s saying. It’s been a long time since he’s knotted an omega. Well over a decade. And that was with Lucille. So he hasn’t had to worry about safe sex with a knot since he started dating her. Since betas can’t take a knot, normal condoms work fine with them and that’s what he’s used to.

“So... do we have options?” He wants to knot Chuck. And it’s certainly going to happen during her heat, if not before then. But he doesn’t want to get her pregnant. Not yet, anyways. But he’s unaware of what they can do.

“There’s something called an omega condom,” she explains. “But you have to buy them because omegas can’t. And you need your doctor to call it in to the pharmacy.”

He’s never heard of such a thing before. But he’s more focused on the second part of Chuck’s statement. “Omegas can’t get buy them? That’s fuckin’ stupid.”

“That’s what I said.”

“I mean, I’ll definitely do it. But it’s stupid you have to jump through those fuckin’ hoops to get one.”

“Yeah.” She shrugs. “I can give you money for it.”

He shakes his head. “No. I’ll get it. It’s no big deal.”

“Okay.” She nods. “I-I still want to go slow, though. I just want to be prepared. For when the time comes.”

“I get it. I’m not gonna fuckin’ push you, honey. I’ll let you decide when you’re ready.”

“Yeah. Okay.” She rubs her hands over her thighs, not knowing what else to say. “I guess that’s all I wanted to talk about.”

“You want me to make you dinner later?”

She bites her lip to try to hide her smile. “That sounds nice.”

He chuckles low in his chest at her reaction to him. “Can I get a kiss until then?”

She giggles as her cheeks redden. “Okay.”

He sets his hand gently on her cheek and leans in to kiss her lips sweetly. Despite the urge, he successfully holds himself back from trying to deepen the kiss, leaving it at a peck. When they pull away from each other, both of them have smiles on their faces.

Chuck stands from the couch and starts to walk to the door. “See you later,” she calls out over her shoulder, her face still flushed.

He smirks up at her. “Bye, sweetheart.”

As Negan prepares the meal he’ll share with Chuck, he gets a call on his phone. After a few days of calls with his cell phone company (and a lot of yelling) he got everything straightened out and got his old number back with a replacement phone to boot. An even better phone at that. An iPhone like Chuck’s, so she can show him how to use it. He tries his hardest to listen when she tells him how to do things with it, but he only retains about fifteen percent, just enough not to blow the thing up, he figures.

He pulls the phone out of his pocket and sees Rick’s name at the top. “It’s been three fuckin’ weeks,” is how he answers the call. He had been texting Rick every few days enquiring about his phone that Rick’s office is supposed to be searching through to find evidence on Eldritch. All Rick would say is that he’d call when they were done.

“What do you expect?” Rick responds. “The lab guys have been busy with murders and drug dealers .”

Negan lets out a huff, supposing Rick’s probably right. “Did they at least find anything?”

“No. It was clean. Whoever cleared it did it thoroughly.”

“We know who did it,” Negan bites back. “Eldritch fuckin’ Ruben.”

Rick nods and grunts an approval. “I did a background check on him. One speeding ticket. That’s it.”

Negan huffs a breath. “So you think he’s a fuckin’ saint?”

Frustration laces Rick’s words, though that’s not new when he’s talking to Negan. Despite the fact that Rick considers the man a friend, Negan still has the innate ability to annoy the piss out of him on occasion. “No. I’m just telling you all I know.”

“Fine.” Negan drags his hand down his face. “Thanks for looking, I guess.”

“Has he reached out to you guys?”

“Chuck got some fuckin’ flowers after her uncle died. But the card said it was from her whole office. I think he was behind it, though.”

“That’s nothing we can make a move on.”

“I know,” Negan admits dejectedly. “I just know in my fuckin’ heart this guy’s bad news.”

Rick understands the feeling. “Sometimes gut instinct can save lives. I’ve seen it more than once in the field. Just use your head. Protect yourselves.”

“Me and Chuck are together now,” Negan comments. “And I’m not gonna let any-fuckin’-thing hurt her.”

“You claimed her?”

“Not yet.” The ease that those words leave his mouth stun him. After Lucille, he was dead set on never taking another mate. And though he hasn’t taken the time to seriously entertain the thought of claiming Chuck, it seems so natural to expect that he will actually do it in the future.

“I’m not trying to force your hand or anything, but a claim sends a clear message to other alphas.”

“Look, Rick. It’s not the right fuckin’ time for that. I’m not gonna claim the fuckin’ girl unless she’s goddamn sure about it. And I don’t want her fuckin’ decision to be swayed by fear of what that motherfuckin’ knothead Eldritch might do to her.”

Even though Negan can’t see it, Rick holds his free hand up in a placating manner. “Okay, Negan. I guess I don’t really know what goes into claiming,” he admits. Since he’s a beta male, he’ll never claim a mate like an alpha. And it’s just generally accepted that omegas get claimed, so it seems automatic to assume that an omega won’t stay unclaimed for long. Rick had never thought about the thought process omegas and alphas must go through before they make that life altering decision.

“Yeah.” Negan scratches at the back of his neck. He doesn’t really blame Rick for assuming he’d claim Chuck. It’s a logical assumption.

“Well.” Rick lets out a sigh. “Keep me updated. If he does anything, let me know. I’ll keep my eye on him, too.”

“Thanks, Rick.”

After Negan hangs up and shoves his phone back in his pocket, he lets out a heavy breath as he leans over the counter. He had hoped the lab guys would find something to pin on Eldritch so this could be over, but that’s not the case.

The next week flies by with Chuck and Negan continuing their budding relationship. Despite the fact that Chuck certainly feels the urge to be with Negan in a more physical way, her insecurities keep her from going too far with him. And since Negan is going at her pace, he holds himself back.

That doesn't mean that things are completely G rated all the time.

Chuck and Negan are sitting on her couch binge watching Stranger Things with a bowl of popcorn sitting on Chuck’s lap.

“You weren’t even alive in the eighties,” Negan comments then shoves some popcorn in his mouth.

Chuck giggles. “But I’ve seen all the eighties movies they’re referencing.”

Negan suddenly realizes what he had said. “Shit, you weren’t even alive in the eighties.”

She shrugs, not really thinking that’s a big deal. “What was it like to be alive in the fifties?” she quips.

“I wasn’t fuckin’ alive in the fifties!”

She laughs at her own joke. “Oh. My mistake.”

“You naughty little girl. Come here.” He pulls her to him, sending the bowl of popcorn spilling to the floor.

Chuck doesn’t get much time to think about the mess before Negan leans over her and starts to tickle her sides.

“Negan!” she squeals as uncontrollable laughs leave her mouth. She tries to push him away, but he’s relentless.

Eventually, he has her pushed down on the couch as he hovers over her, continuing to tickle her torso. “This’ll teach you,” he calls out jovially.

“Negan! Negan, stop!” She laughs further. “I’m gonna pee my pants!”

“Alright, alright.” He stops, but doesn’t move away from her.

As she regains her composure, she realizes just how close Negan is and it causes her heart rate to pick back up.

Negan smooths Chuck’s hair away from her face. “You look so fuckin’ cute with your cheeks all red.” He brings his hand back up to cup her cheek.

She bites her lip demurely. “I blush easily,” she says, not knowing what else to say to him.

He chuckles. “I know.” He bends down to kiss her, waiting for her to move away or stop him.

But she doesn’t. And only a few moments after their lips meet, they both deepen the kiss. Chuck buries her fingers in his hair as she tangles her tongue with his, eliciting a low groan from him. The noise sends a jolt of heat through her body to pool at her core. The heat only builds when his hand slides under her T-shirt and up her side. His fingers dancing across her skin feel so good that she almost gets lost in the sensation.

Almost.

All at once, those voices start in her head telling her that all those other women he’s been with probably don’t feel like her. Is she too chubby? Does Negan prefer those sleek curves over her soft ones? Or is her skin not flawless enough? She has those dry patches that surely must be sticking out to him. And what about-

“Chuck?” his voice draws her out of her thoughts.

“What?”

“You went all tense and stopped fuckin’ moving. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

Negan lifts off of her and sits up on the couch, wondering if he did something wrong.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly as she sits up, too.

“No. Don’t apologize.” He takes a deep breath. “Was it something I did?”

She turns to him. “No. I-“ She clears her throat. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It wasn’t you.”

“Okay.” He looks around at the popcorn littered all over the floor. “I’ll clean this up.”

Chuck just nods, feeling stupid and disappointed in herself.

After Negan leaves, Chuck is left with those same feelings of inadequacy that have plagued her for her entire adult life. But instead of wallowing in that, she decides that she’s just going to try really hard to be good for Negan. Since she’s still woefully inexperienced when it comes to sex, she goes back to the next best thing, watching a lot of porn on the internet.

The next Monday, Chuck and Negan go to Dr. Bailey’s office for their first meeting with her.

“I’m nervous,” Chuck whispers to Negan as they wait in one of the exam rooms for the doctor.

Negan takes her hand in his. “Don’t be.” He brings her hand up to his mouth and kisses it softly.

A few minutes later, Dr. Bailey enters and after greeting the pair, she sets herself up much like she did the last time Chuck saw her. “So,” she starts. “Any developments?”

Chuck shrugs, not really knowing what to say.

Negan sees her shyness and jumps in. “We’re taking things slow.”

Dr. Bailey continues to type in the computer. “Are you planning to be together for her next heat?”

“Yeah,” Negan answers as Chuck just nods.

“Good, good.” Dr. Bailey turns to look at them. “I know this is going to be a little weird for you guys, but I want to stress that studying you might give us more understanding on how alphas and omegas react both before and after a pair bond. And of course the attraction of omegas and alphas to one another. Especially since you seem to have a stronger than normal attraction to each other.”

“I’ve never been a lab rat before,” Negan jokes, easing a little of Chuck’s anxiety.

Dr. Bailey chuckles. “We won’t force you through too many mazes. But I will ask for blood samples from both of you today to test different things like hormone levels and certain DNA markers. If you’re okay with that, of course.”

“That’s okay,” Chuck answers.

Negan gives a little shrug. “Why not?”

Dr. Bailey brings in the nurse to take the blood samples then sits back down to talk to the pair after the nurse leaves.

“Now I’d like to ask you some general questions. They might get a little personal, but it’s important that you answer them truthfully . If you don’t want to answer, we’ll just skip it.”

Negan and Chuck nod, though Chuck is feeling even more nervous.

“First thing’s first. Have you had any sexual contact with each other?”

“No,” Negan answers quickly as Chuck’s face blooms red. “We made out a few times. No contact downstairs.”

“Okay,” Dr. Bailey responds as she types on her computer. “A lot of these questions are going to be directed at you, Negan, since I already have Chuck’s history and medical record.”

“Alright then.” Negan doesn’t exactly have a problem with that, but he wonders what the doctor wants to know.

“Did you only have the one mate before now?” Dr. Bailey had been Lucille’s doctor, so she knows that Negan had claimed her before her untimely death.

“Only Lucille.”

“How many omegas have you had sex with?”

He flicks his gaze over to Chuck, but she’s looking down at the floor. She knows she shouldn’t really have any feelings about Negan’s past, since she wasn’t in his life yet, but there is a little bit of jealousy there.

He runs his hand down his face. “Two. The one was years before Lucille.”

“You knotted both?”

“No. Only Lucille.”

So, no claim on the first one?”

“No. Definitely not. I was fuckin’ twenty-one and she was this cougar widow I met in a bar. Literally only saw her the one time. Don’t even remember her name.”

“Okay.” Dr. Bailey types on, recording his answers. “I know Chuck has had experiences where she thought maybe she was... let’s say, reacting to your strong emotions, physically,” she directs at Negan. “Have you experienced something similar?”

He thinks for a moment. “I don’t fuckin’ know. I mean... I hate when she’s upset.”

“You don’t have any any other feelings when she’s emotional? Like you’re experiencing her emotions?”

He thinks again back to when Chuck first learned about her uncle’s death. It seemed like he did feel something more than just regular empathy for her.

“Maybe,” he finally concedes. “I might’ve felt more than fuckin’ normal when her uncle died. Like I lost someone, too.”

Chuck turns to look at Negan upon hearing that revelation. She hadn’t thought that she might affect him that way.

“That is really remarkable,” Dr. Bailey comments. “Did you feel anything similar with your first mate?”

He pauses and thinks hard. As much as he loved Lucille, he can’t think of a single time where he was effected by her emotions like he was with Chuck. “No,” he answers simply.

Chuck isn’t really sure what to make of that. But she doesn’t get the chance to dwell on it because Dr. Bailey moves on.

“I’d like to get your permission to bring other doctors in on this. One specializing in alphas. Probably a neurologist and an endocrinologist. Maybe even a psychologist.”

“Fuck, Doc.” Negan lets out a huff. “We gonna have to meet with all these goddamn doctors?”

“Probably not. I’d mainly just show them your test results. But they may want to meet with you in person occasionally.”

Neither Chuck or Negan are really excited about the prospect and it shows.

“This is all voluntary on your part,” Dr. Bailey stresses. “Though what we may learn from you-“

“Yeah, yeah, Doc,” he interrupts. “We fuckin’ get it. Scientific discoveries, blah blah blah.”

Chuck giggles at him. “Is there really not that much research into this?” she asks the doctor.

“Not really. It’s just generally accepted that alphas and omegas mate without much thought into why . But in the last five years or so, there has been a push in the scientific community to look into this area of study.”

After the appointment is done, Chuck and Negan walk back to his car at the far end of the parking lot.

“So,” Negan starts, “do you have any fuckin’ plans for Saturday?”

Chuck turns to look up at Negan beside her. “I don’t think so.”

“Want to do something with me?”

“Like what?”

He starts to smirk. “It’s a surprise.”

She giggles. “A surprise?”

“Yup. But I promise you’ll have fuckin’ fun.”

“Okay. But I’m trusting that you don’t want me to rob a bank or something.”

He laughs. “Nah. Bank robbing is more of a third date kinda activity,” he jokes.

When Saturday rolls around, Chuck is still in the dark as to what they’re going to do. All she knows is that Negan told her to dress comfortably and that’s it. So she dresses in some jeans and a Supernatural T-shirt and heads out to Negan’s car with a hoodie draped over her arm in case it gets cold. When she meets up with Negan, she sees that he’s dressed in a crisp white T-shirt and jeans, as well.

Negan drives them out of the city and into the suburbs, all the while not giving up where they’re actually going. When he pulls into a high school parking lot, Chuck is thoroughly confused.

“We’re here,” he says nonchalantly after he parks.

“This is a school.”

“Yup.”

“Why are we at a school?”

“Come on.” He gets out of the car and Chuck follows suit.

They go around the back of the building and onto a baseball field, where someone is waiting for them by a pitching machine.

“Hey, Coach!” the beta male calls out with a wave. He looks to be in his late thirties and is dressed in jeans and an off white polo shirt.

“Just ‘Negan’, now,” Negan responds and shakes the man’s hand. “This is Chuck.” He gestures back to her.

“Nice to meet you,” the man shakes her hand, too. “I’m Terry.”

“Hello.” She smiles at the man.

Terry turns back to Negan. “Got everything all set up for you guys. Just don’t break anything.”

Negan places his hand on his chest. “Would I ever?”

Terry laughs. “Well, have fun.” He claps Negan on the shoulder and leaves.

When he’s gone, Chuck speaks up. “‘Coach’?”

He chuckles a little, but it has an air of nervousness. “I used to fuckin’ teach here. Gym. And I coached baseball.”

“Oh!” Chuck exclaims in shock. That is news to her. “You didn’t like it?” she asks, wondering why he changed careers.

“I loved it, actually. But shit changed after Lucille...” he trails off.

“Oh. I understand.”

He clears his throat. “Grab one of those fuckin’ bats and stand on the plate.”

As he fiddles with the pitching machine, Chuck follows his instructions. Maybe a bit too closely.

When he finally looks up at her, he can’t help but laugh. She’s standing square on home plate facing him, awkwardly holding the bat loosely in her right hand.

“What?” she calls out at his reaction.

He shakes his head as he chuckles a few more times. “Have you ever played baseball before?”

“No.”

“Alright.” He walks back over to her. “You’re a rightie, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Face that way.” He points to her right then gets behind her when she complies. “Move back a couple steps.”

She takes two steps back and bumps right into him. “Oops. Sorry.”

He puts his hands on her hips. “No. This is right where I want you.” He places his foot between hers to nudge them apart then moves his hands from her hips to position her shoulders. “Bring the bat up.”

She obeys and holds the bat like she’s seen other people do, hoping that she’s not doing it too horribly.

Negan leans over her, his chest flush against her back, and places his hands above and below hers on the bat. “Don’t tense.” He moves the bat all around, like he’s loosening Chuck up. “When the ball comes...” He swings the bat gently and makes a knocking noise with his tongue. “Just like that.”

“Okay,” she replies nervously.

Negan pats her hip as he backs away, then walks over to the pitching machine. “Ready, sweetheart?” he calls out.

“Uh... yeah.” She had never been very athletic. As a matter of fact, her only exposure to sports was in her own high school gym class. And she ended up having to do extra credit reports so she wouldn’t fail because she was so bad at everything. She just isn’t naturally blessed with the coordination for sports.

“I’m gonna start it nice and fuckin’ easy.” He turns the machine on and a ball comes flying out.

Chuck lets out a little yip and jumps backward, even though the ball wasn’t really that close to her. Nor was it traveling that fast, really.

Negan chuckles at her reaction. “It’s okay, baby girl. Don’t be afraid of it.”

“I’m not good at this, Negan.”

“You didn’t even try, yet. I’m gonna send another one. Just swing at it.”

When the ball flies over the plate, Chuck does swing, but misses.

She lets out a groan. “See? I told you I’m not good.”

“Just try a few more times.”

Another pitch, another miss. Then another. And Chuck’s frustration grows quickly.

“Negan... Why are we doing this?”

“I told you I’d take you to a fuckin’ baseball game, but it’s not baseball season, yet. So...” He gestures broadly to what they’re doing. “So stop bellyaching.” His tone isn’t angry, but rather teasing and it brings a smile to Chuck’s face.

“I’m just horrible at this.”

He sets the machine to automatically pitch and walks over to her. “You just never had the right fuckin’ coach.”

He gets into position behind her again and rolls the bat around playfully as he wiggles his hips, waiting for the ball to come. When it does, he swings the bat, sending the ball down the first base line.

“We hit it!” Chuck exclaims excitedly.

After hitting a few more, Negan backs away. “Hit this next one on your own.”

“Oh, god. I’ll try.” She really wants to hit this one, not only so she won’t feel like a failure (like she always did in high school), but she wants to do it for Negan, too.

When the machine releases the ball, Chuck swings the bat as hard as she can, trying to do it like Negan was. With a resounding crack, the ball flies over the pitcher’s mound to land next to second base.

“I hit it!” she yells as she thrusts her arms out in celebration. She flips around to face Negan. “I did it!”

He laughs at her enthusiasm. “You sure did.” He scoops her up in his arms, lifting her from the ground.

“Negan!” she squeals with a giggle as he twirls her around.

Negan holds her close and doesn’t let her down. “You’re the next Babe Ruth, sweetheart.”

Chuck laughs. “Don’t oversell it.”

“Okay, maybe not Babe Ruth. But you look cute as shit. And that’s something.” He sets her back on the ground. “Can I show off for you, now?”

She giggles. “Go ahead.”

Even though he hasn’t been on a baseball diamond in many years, he’d still get to the batting cages almost every week. So as the pitching machine does its thing, he sends the balls flying one by one deep into the outfield. When Negan hits the last one, Chuck applauds.

“You impressed by my manly show of athleticism?” Negan asks in a joking way.

“Super impressed.” Chuck giggles. “That’s really why you wanted to do this, huh? To show off.”

“Damn right.” He tosses the bat away and pulls her into another hug. “I’m still gonna take you to a baseball game, though.”

“So I can be impressed by the players’ manly athleticism?”

“Fuck no! You can be impressed by my ability to get good tickets and drink $20 beer.”

Chuck laughs. “Is that so?”

He nods. “Hey, there’s this little fuckin’ burger place nearby. You wanna eat lunch?”

“Yeah. I’m getting hungry.”

They go to the cute little burger shop and eat their lunch, then stop by an ice cream stand for dessert. Both with ice cream cones in hand, they walk around the little town lazily.

“It’s nice here,” Chuck comments as they wander through the neighborhood.

“Yeah. If you like the fuckin’ ‘burbs.”

“You don’t?”

He shrugs. “It’s just different, I guess.”

Chuck lets out an excited gasp when she notices that one house is nicely decked out for Halloween already. “Halloween is my favorite! I’m so excited!”

He chuckles at her enthusiasm. “Halloween is your favorite?”

“Yeah. I love Halloween. Me and my mom dress up every year and hand out candy at her house. We actually have her house all decorated already. First of October, everything gets spoooooky.” She wiggles her fingers and warbles the last word for emphasis.

He laughs. “I would definitely like to see you in a costume.”

His implication goes over her head, since he’s thinking about skimpy costumes while she considers scary ones the norm.

“I’m dressing like the Pint-Sized Slasher,” she explains excitedly.

“I have no idea what that is.”

Chuck pulls out her phone and finds a picture to show Negan. “It’s from Fallout 3.”

The picture looks like a kid in a clown mask to Negan, which is disappointing. He was hoping to see Chuck in something a little more sexy than that.

“Looks weird,” he finally comments.

“I’m doing it all in black and white, too and I made the mask myself,” she beams. Making her own costume has always been a source of pride for her. Mainly because the kids always seem to like it. “I always try to dress scary. But my mom usually dresses like a not scary witch for the really little kids so we don’t scare them too much.”

Negan takes his first crunchy bite into his ice cream cone. “I haven’t handed out candy in years.”

“Oh!” she calls out suddenly. “Hand out candy at my mom’s house with us. She always gets a ton of kids.” She figures that the reason he didn’t participate in trick or treat is because kids don’t go into their building on Halloween. Which is true. But for Negan, it’s also part of that life he left behind when Lucille died.

He used to really enjoy handing out candy. Him and Lucille both. He used to love watching Lucille’s face light up as she saw the children all dressed up. After she died, he didn’t have the interest to participate in trick or treat anymore.

He gives her offer a thought, though. “Sure. Why not?”

“Yay! I’m excited!”

With their ice cream cones all gone, they head back to Chuck’s apartment. Negan casually plops himself down on her couch as she grabs a drink in the kitchen. Her laptop is open right beside him, though it’s in standby mode. To give himself more room, he picks it up to set it to the side, hitting one of the buttons in the process and turning it on. Instantly, Negan is met with the homepage of the porn website Chuck had left open.

“Shit,” he says aloud as his eyes scan the various pictures of naked women and descriptions of what each video is.

Chuck looks over to him and sees what’s happening. “Oh my god!” She rushes over and rips her laptop out of his hands. “I-I can explain. I was just- It- I wasn’t-“ her heart pounds as all the blood rushes to her face. “Oh my god. I’m just going to go kill myself now.”

He laughs at her reaction. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, sweetheart. Fuckin’ everyone watches porn.”

“I’m sorry.” Her embarrassment is quickly making her upset.

He sees this and gestures to the seat beside him. “Come here, sweetheart.”

She sets the laptop down and takes the seat. “It’s not what you think. I wasn’t... you know... doing anything to myself.”

He’s a little confused by her reaction. “Honey, I really don’t care if you were taking a little ‘me time’. Everyone gets themselves off. I don’t give a shit about that. If it makes you feel any better, I rubbed one out before we left this morning.”

She looks at him and sees he’s completely comfortable with the subject. It actually eases a little of her embarrassment. “Really?”

“Yeah. So don’t be ashamed that you get yourself off. As a matter of fact, I’d be very fuckin’ interested in hearing about it.”

She laughs at him. “That’s- I guess that’s good to know.” She giggles again. “But... I really wasn’t... I was just trying to learn. Since I’ve never... you know. I’m a-a... virgin.”

“I see.” He scrubs his hand down his beard. “You can talk to me about it. Since we’re planning on engaging in that particular fuckin’ activity at some point, I think it’s pretty goddamn logical for you to be open with me about it.”

“Yeah.” She looks away. “I guess you’re right. I was just embarrassed. And I didn’t want to be bad for you. For our first time.”

“Don’t fuckin’ worry about me, baby girl. As long as you’re into it, it’s gonna be fuckin’ amazing for me.”

She just nods, unsure if he’s really telling the truth or not.

Negan sees the uncertainty on her face. “I want you to be fuckin’ comfortable with me, Chuck. And you gotta be comfortable with this.” He gestures between them.

Chuck nods.

“You gotta be comfortable with yourself .”

She looks at him, not really knowing what he means.

“Have you ever made yourself cum before?” he asks, already figuring that he knows the answer.

She shakes her head.

“Have you ever tried ?”

“No.”

“Well.” He lets out a sigh. “I think you need to take that step before we can take that step.”

“Right.” She nods slowly. “Okay.”

“Do you know how?”

“Uh... well. Sorta... I guess. I mean, I watched videos.”

“So you know you gotta rub your clit.”

She shrugs a shoulder. “Yeah.”

He chuckles a little at the situation. He’s never had to tell a woman how to get off, before. Especially since the women he usually sleeps with are of the more adventurous variety. Lucille was probably the least experienced of all the women he’s had, but she wasn’t a virgin .

When she hears him laugh, she looks away in shame. “This is really weird, right? I’m sorry.”

“Hey.” He puts his fingers around her chin to move her face back to his. “We got a unique fuckin’ situation here. But that doesn’t mean you gotta feel bad about it. Okay, baby girl?”

She nods, though she’s not quite sure if she believes him.

“Just... talk it out with me,” he says gently.

She clears her throat. “I just feel really weird. You know, not normal. Like, there’s this whole world that I’ve not been living in. With my condition and all, I just accepted that I would never live there with everyone else. But now...” She shrugs. “Now, I’m just ashamed that I haven’t experienced all the things everyone else has.”

“No need to be ashamed. Like you fuckin’ said, you had a condition that you didn’t fuckin’ ask for. There was nothing you coulda done about it. So what if you’re a little bit of a late bloomer. Cuz you can sure make up the time now.”

She laughs. His words actually make her feel better. “You’re just saying that to get in my pants,” she jokes.

Negan takes it seriously, though. “No, baby girl. Do I want in your pants? Shit yes. Would I try and talk you into it when you’re not ready? Fuck no . I’ll try my hardest to get you ready. Help with all that self conscious repression you got going on so you can make your own decision. But I would never try to convince you. I just need you to be okay with all of this before we actually get our fuck on.”

She giggles at his turn of phrase. “Can I ask you something, then?”

“Go ahead.”

She clears her throat. “You said you... uh... rubbed one out this morning.”

“Yes,” he drags out with a smirk.

“Is that normal? For you, I mean. Do you do that everyday?”

He shrugs. “Well... Alphas have a high sex drive, so yeah. Pretty much. Especially now that I haven’t fucked anyone in a while.”

“Oh.” She realizes that his dry spell is because he hasn’t had sex with anyone since they decided to be together. It makes her smile knowing that he’s taking his fidelity seriously.

As he stares at her, waiting for her to say something further, her own thoughts drift from his faithfulness to what he must look like when he pleasures himself. It causes a heat to burn all over her body and her cheeks to redden even more than they already were.

Negan notices the change in her expression and immediately recognizes the look of arousal. It sends his own body buzzing at the possibilities of what might happen.

“Do you want to watch me?” he asks before he has time to really think about it.

“Watch you?”

“Jerk off.”

“Oh!” she almost squeaks. Her first thought is to say absolutely not, but then again, she finds herself wanting nothing more than to watch him. “Is that... weird? If I did?”

“No. It’s not fuckin’ weird. And you shouldn’t worry if someone else finds something fuckin’ weird. Just do what you want,” he tells her as he looks right into her eyes. “Within reason, I guess. As long as all parties involved are fuckin’ consenting.”

“Okay.”

“It’s up to you, sweetheart. It’s your choice.”

She lets out a breath. He’s right that she needs to be comfortable with him and she knows the only way to achieve that for her is to jump right in before she can talk herself out of it. But he’s also right that she needs to be more comfortable with herself, too.

“I want to watch you. But... I want to do it, too.”

He raises his eyebrows. “You want to jerk me off?”

She giggles. “No. I mean, well... I was thinking I’d... you know... touch myself. While you touch yourself.”

Negan can’t help but smile at the thought. “Alright, baby girl. If that’s what you want.”

They move into Chuck’s bedroom, but she’s not sure where to start. Negan really isn’t either. This isn’t exactly like any other sexual encounter he’s had before. But he knows he has to let her do her own thing. If he pushes her too far too fast, she might regret it. And that might make her regret being with him.

“Should we take our clothes off?” she asks so sweetly that Negan chuckles.

“I’m okay with that.”

She bites her lip in nervousness. She’s never been naked in front of anyone, save her doctors before. And that always made her so anxious that she couldn’t sleep for a few days before her appointments. Now, she’s planning on being naked in front of Negan, who will also be naked.

“Will you do it first?” she finally responds.

“Do you want me to do a little dance for you?” he jokes, calming some of her nerves.

She giggles at him then shrugs a shoulder. “Sure.”

He laughs, not really considering dancing, then starts to remove his clothes unceremoniously. When he’s fully naked, he just stands there, allowing Chuck to make the first move.

She had seen Negan naked before, albeit, for only a second. But now, he’s standing there waiting for her to take the sight all in. It takes her a moment to settle before she allows her eyes to even travel below his waist. And when she does, she lets out a soft gasp.

He’s big, long and thick. Especially since he’s mostly hard already. And like most alphas, especially ones born before the nineties, he’s cut. He has an ample amount of curly black hair leading up from his groin to fade out below his belly button. The sight of him sends a tingling heat straight to her core.

He notices her reaction. “Everything okay there, sweetheart?” he teases.

She swallows roughly. “Mmhmm.”

“You don’t have to go through with this,” he reminds her, since she hasn’t made a move to take off her own clothes yet. “You can just fuckin’ watch me and that’s it.”

“No,” she answers quickly. “I wanna do this. But... can I ask you something?”

He chuckles at her repeated question. “You can ask me anything.”

“Have you ever... been with someone that looks like me? You know, bigger.”

“Honey...” he coos. “You’re not big. You’re a fuckin’ omega . And you have no fuckin’ idea what your curves do to me.”

Though there is some variation, of course, most betas are slim and straighter shaped. Since betas make up the majority of the population, beauty standards adhere to that ideal. Omegas, however, have more of an hourglass shape, with larger breasts an hips. Since Negan has only ever brought betas home, and with societies influence, too, Chuck figures that Negan is only attracted to thin, slender women. But she’s wrong.

“Really?” she asks quietly.

“You and that body of yours have been the star of a lot of my fantasies, sweetheart.”

She giggles, actually feeling a little less anxiety about being naked in front of him now. So before she can back out of it, she rips her shirt off. But as she’s unbuttoning her jeans, she pauses and looks up at Negan.

“I-I have stretch marks,” she warns him. As her hips expanded, some light stretch marks spread across them. Though in actuality, they aren’t as noticeable as Chuck thinks.

“Honestly, I don’t care one fuckin’ bit about that.”

“And I...” she continues. “I mean, I don’t know what you like, you know, hair-wise. I’m not... waxed or anything. I shaved my legs last night, but I have hair, you know, elsewhere.”

He chuckles. “Honey, I really don’t care about any of that. Stop telling yourself you have all this shit wrong with you so I can fuckin’ show you that you’re fine the way you are.”

She nods then proceeds to remove the rest of her clothes, leaving her completely bare. When she finally looks up at Negan, his eyes are roving her entire body.

He takes it all in. Her whole body is covered in alabaster skin, with only her shoulders and arms dotted with random freckles. She has a nickel sized birthmark a few shades darker than the rest of her skin on her left breast under her small pink nipple. Her breasts are full, but perky, much like many other omegas. Her waist is soft, but mostly flat, leading down to her ample hips, which are rounded perfectly, as far as Negan is concerned. With what Chuck had said, he thought she would have unkempt pubic hair, but that’s not the case. Her soft red curls are neatly trimmed, with her bikini line completely bare.

“Fuck,” he breathes out. “You’re fuckin’ perfect.”

She bites her lip at the high compliment. Her first thought is not to believe him, but the look on his face and the way his body is reacting to her tell her that he’s not lying.

Negan feels his whole body get hotter as he commits every detail of her body to memory. He’s so taken with her that he has to hold himself back from rushing over and burying himself inside her instantly.

“Are you still good with this?” he finally asks, hoping to god that she says yes.

“Yeah. Are you?”

“I think you can see just how good with this I am.”

She giggles because there is no missing his very prominent erection.

Negan turns away from her to sit on the bed. He positions the pillows behind him so he can lean back on the headboard with his legs stretched out in front of him, widely parted.

“Are you gonna watch from there?” he asks, pulling Chuck out of her stupor as she stands away from the bed. “You can hop up here.” He pats the bed beside him.

“Oh. Okay.” She gets on the bed and sits on her knees between his legs with her hands in her lap.

Negan wasn’t expecting her to choose to be front and center, but he’s certainly not complaining. He brings his hand up and wraps it around his shaft, stroking it a few times.

Chuck notices that with each stroke, he swirls his hand over the tip, figuring that that’s how he likes it. She files that knowledge away for when the occasion comes that she’ll be the one giving him pleasure.

As his breaths get heavier, so do Chuck’s. She’s focused on his hand, noting every movement and how he seems to react to it. When he starts to buck his hips slightly, a little grunt leaves his lips. Chuck’s eyes snap up to his face and she sees his own gaze is on her breasts.

He watches as her chest rises and falls with her increasingly deeper breaths. All he wants to do is reach out and feel just how soft her perfect tits are, but he holds back, clenching his unoccupied fist with the effort. She hadn’t told him she was okay with him touching her, so he won’t do it. As long as he can fight the urge to, anyway.

The look of pleasure on his face affects Chuck in a way she’s not entirely familiar with. She has this uncomfortable pressure between her legs that she has the urge to alleviate. She’s not an idiot; she knows she’s aroused. A lot, actually. But she doesn’t want to tear her attention away from what Negan is doing to do anything about it. Her body works for her, though, clenching her thighs rhythmically, seeking relief.

Negan knows what she’s doing. And he can smell the slick starting to slowly leak from between her legs. It all hastens him to his climax.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans as he strokes faster.

When she sees the muscles his thighs ripple with tension, she lays both her hands just above his knees without thinking, like her body is moving on its own. She pushes her hands up his thighs and then back down to his knees, just feeling his hot skin under her fingers as he bucks into his hand.

“Fuck, baby. Can I cum on your tits?” he asks breathlessly.

“Yes,” is her immediate answer. He could’ve asked her anything right then and she would’ve agreed. She starts to trail her hands up his chest and down his arms, though she’s not confident enough to actually help him reach his end.

Negan’s resolve finally breaks and he reaches his hand out to squeeze her breast. As soon as he does, his climax hits him, sending ropes of his cum on her chest and over his own hand.

His growls and moans send heat and electricity through her, straight to her core. She had seen a lot of porn where women get ejaculated on and didn’t really see the appeal, but what Negan just did to her was the most erotic thing she could imagine ever happening. To date, anyway.

“Oh fuck,” he drawls out and lays his head back on her headboard with his eyes closed once his orgasm has passed. “Goddamn.” He stays in that position, breathing heavily as he comes down from his high.

Overcome with lust and without a thought (at least from her upstairs brain), Chuck pulls her legs out from underneath her and spreads them over Negan’s still spread thighs. She lays back fully on the bed and brings her hand to her mound. Her first unskilled touches send pleasure through her, since Negan’s show had gotten her so turned on already. But her clumsy fingers aren’t deft enough to get her where she wants to be.

Negan’s mind is blank after his orgasm as he continues to sit there with his eyes closed. Just being near Chuck made him cum harder than if it was just him alone. This post orgasmic stupor has him completely unaware of what Chuck is doing right in front of him.

Until she calls out for him.

Her frustration in her own lack of ability hits a head as she can’t bring herself to climax. “Help me, Negan,” she calls out breathlessly.

His eyes snap to her instantly as he takes in the image of her spread out before him. At this instant, he’s glad he went first. He isn’t sure if he would have been able to hold himself back from pounding in to her if he was still hard. And with his lust sated at the moment, he’s able to think the situation over a little more clearly.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “Can I touch you?” He should’ve asked this question earlier, but at least he’s doing it now.

“Yes!” she calls out in frustration as she continues to move her fingers like she’s seen women do on the internet. It’s just that she isn’t getting the desired effect.

Negan runs his hands up her legs, trying to commit the feel of her skin to memory. When he gets to the apex of her thighs, he puts his hand over hers to guide her her fingers where he thinks they should go. By gliding over her folds slowly and watching her face intently to see what gets a reaction and what doesn’t, he starts to build her up.

“Keep doing that,” he instructs in a deep voice and lifts his hand away from her own. Even though he wants to be the one to make her cum, he knows that she needs to be familiar with her own body first.

She takes his instruction and soon finds the right pace on her own, swirling her fingers over her clit. She can’t help the moans now coming out of her mouth as she arches her back and thrusts her hips into her hand.

Negan can’t get enough of the sight before him. His eyes alternate between watching her wet pussy to staring at the way her breasts bounce with the movement of her arm.

“You look so fuckin’ good like this.” He continues to move his hands all over her, up her legs to squeeze her hips, then back down her inner thighs, repeating the action over and over. Then he ventures further north, lightly squeezing her breasts and brushing his fingers over her nipples.

“Oh, god!” she calls out as the pressure builds more and more.

“You’re gonna cum,” Negan says almost in astonishment. His eyes scan every bit of her. Her furrowed brow and parted lips. Her arched back and bucking hips. He’s suddenly painfully hard again and can’t stop himself from furiously stroking himself, trying to reach his end again.

“Ah!” She continues to swirl her fingers just right. “Oh!” Her breaths come heavier until she almost stops breathing. She ceases to move as tension builds in all of her muscles. Then it snaps sending pleasure through her in waves as a long moan escapes her lips.

As she writhes and moans through her orgasm, he spills onto her again.

“Fuck,” he groans then moves to lay down beside her. “Fuck, baby girl,” he says breathlessly.

“Mmhmm,” is all she manages to say as she tries to catch her own breath.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asks after a moment.

“Yeah,” she answers with a smile. “That was... wow.”

He chuckles. “You enjoyed yourself?”

“Definitely. Did you enjoy yourself?”

“I think that’s pretty fuckin’ evident.” He runs a finger over the mess he made on her torso. “Let me clean you up.” He jumps off the bed and retrieves a wet washcloth from the bathroom. As he gently wipes her skin, he can’t help but look her over in adoration. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers almost to himself.

She hears his words and looks up at him. He’s not saying it out of lust and that throws her for a loop.

“No one’s ever said that to me,” she responds quietly. “Except my mom,” she adds with a giggle.

He tosses the washcloth aside and leans down to kiss her sweetly. “Well, I’m saying it now.”

She smiles up at him as she smooths her hand over his cheek. “I think you’re beautiful, too. But I’m sure you’ve heard that a million times.”

He shakes his head with a chuckle. “No one’s ever called me beautiful before.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“I’ve been called a lotta things, beautiful ain’t one of them.” He kisses her again. “But I kinda like it.”

A couple days later, Chuck has to go back into the office for her monthly meeting. It’s going to be her first time there since the whole Eldritch situation. She really doesn’t want to see him, but she’s hoping that being with a bunch of people will mean that he won’t do anything.

Negan tried to get her to stay home, but she really couldn’t. She agreed to keep in touch with Negan during the day, just to allay his fears.

Chuck walks into the meeting room and waits for Eldritch to enter. When he does, she keeps her head down, not lifting her gaze to him once during the whole time he speaks. He, of course, notices, but can’t do anything about it while they’re in the meeting.

After the meeting, Chuck rushes to a work station to get started. She only has a few hours to kill before she can leave, so she hopes she can avoid Eldritch until then.

She sends Negan a text. Meeting went ok. I’m at a computer now starting to work.

He didn’t talk to you he responds.

His iPhone is doing a better job at autocorrecting than his last one. At least a little bit. Despite the lack of punctuation, she figures what he said is a question. No. I’m hoping to avoid him now.

What floor are you on. I’ll John McClain it in and rescue you

She laughs out loud softly. Like crawl through the ducts?

Yep

I’m not sure if this building has man sized vents.

I’ll make it work

She puts her phone down and starts typing on her computer, completely unaware of the eyes on her.

As Eldritch walks toward Chuck with his memorized speech playing around in his head, he sees her looking at her phone. And then she giggles. It sends a wave of rage through him because he figures she’s talking to Negan. Negan is making her laugh. Negan is making her smile. Negan has a blush going across her cheeks. He hates it. It should be him .

Before he can reach her, someone intercepts him, requesting his presence on the other side of the building. Reluctantly, he abandons his plan to talk to Chuck to do his job, figuring he’d catch her later. But he doesn’t get the chance. He’s delayed in getting back and when he does, she’s gone.

“Thanks for coming,” Chuck comments from the passenger’s seat of Negan’s car. They’re headed to Diane’s to celebrate Chuck’s birthday.

“Of course,” Negan responds. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

“My mom always has to celebrate birthdays. She makes a big deal about it. I never cared that much.”

“I used to party fuckin’ hard on my birthday. But then I got fuckin’ old.”

She giggles. “When is your birthday?”

“April 7.”

“I didn’t miss it then.”

They pull up and head into the house. Negan greets both Diane and Aaron, then they eat dinner in the dining room. After that, they head into the living room where Chuck sits down at the piano. Aaron and Diane both grab their guitars and they start to sing. This is a little family tradition for holidays and birthdays. Songs would always be sung between dinner and dessert.

Negan just sits back watching the trio. They’re all very good, their voices harmonizing together perfectly. He has to admit that there’s something sexy about how Chuck’s fingers glide over the keys and they way her face looks as she sings.

“You have any requests, Negan?” Diane asks.

“Whatever you’re playing is fine by me.”

Aaron looks to Negan. “Do you play?”

“Nah.” Negan scratches at his cheek. “Learned maybe a couple of chords on the guitar in college. That’s the extent of my musical fuckin’ ability.”

“You could sing,” Chuck offers.

He chuckles. “I’d only ruin it.”

“We could use a deeper voice here,” Diane comments.

“Let me practice a little bit and I’ll get back to you,” Negan jokes.

Diane nods at him. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Shouldn’t we be doing presents anyway?” Negan changes the subject.

“Alright,” Diane concedes.

Before they get to that, Aaron turns to Chuck. “Could I ask you a favor?”

“Yeah, sure,” Chuck responds.

“I decided to take a trip to some of Eric’s favorite places and write an article about it as a memorial to him. But since I got this all ready last minute, our usual dog sitter isn’t available. Will you be able to watch Mozart for a week?”

“Yeah. I can do that. I love hanging out with your puppy. When is it?”

“Beginning of November.”

“Of course I’ll do it, Uncle Aaron.”

Chuck takes her seat on the couch between Negan and Aaron. Diane sits on an arm chair beside them with two presents sitting on the coffee table.

“I’ll do the big one first,” Chuck comments and picks up the box.

“That’s from me,” Diane comments.

Chuck rips the paper off and opens the box, pulling out a violin after. “You got me a violin?” Chuck asks with a smile.

Diane smiles back. “I know you never played one, so I thought you could teach yourself. There’s a book in the box, too, to help you out. It’s not exactly a Stradivarius, but it’ll be good to learn on.”

“Wow! Thanks, Mom. I love it! Negan might not when he hears me trying to learn on it,” Chuck jokes.

“I bet you have that shit mastered in no time,” Negan responds.

Chuck moves to the next box and opens it. It contains five T-shirts, all nerdy in subject.

“I hope those fit you,” Aaron comments. “I got you the same size as last year without thinking about how you’ve changed. I kept the receipts if they don’t.”

“I bet it’ll be fine. T-shirts are stretchy. Thanks, Uncle Aaron. I can always use more geeky shirts.”

Negan clears his throat and reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket, producing a black jewelry box. “I’m shit at wrapping so I didn’t wrap it.”

“Oh.” Chuck is a little shocked that he actually got her a gift. “It’s okay that it’s not wrapped.” She takes the box from him and opens the lid. Sitting on the fancy cushion is a silver bangle with engraved writing in it. “Moonlight drowns out all but the brightest stars,” she reads aloud then looks up at Negan.

“I saw that line highlighted in your Lord of the Rings book,” Negan explains. “I know a jeweler and asked him to put it on a bracelet for you.”

Chuck looks down at it, running her finger over the delicate script as her eyes well up with tears. “That was my dad’s favorite line. He’s the one that highlighted it.” She looks back up at Negan and instantly throws her arms around him in a hug. “I love it,” she whispers in his ear.

He brings her in tighter. “Happy birthday, baby girl,” he whispers back.

“Who’s ready for cake?” Diane interrupts their moment intentionally. Just because she’s okay with her daughter and Negan being together, doesn’t mean that she wants to see it.

After the party as Chuck and Negan drive home, she can’t help but stare at the bracelet on her wrist. She had never been very into jewelry, but this is so perfect. She never thought that Negan could be so thoughtful.

Negan sneaks glances at her and notices that she keeps looking at the present he had given her. It fills him with pride knowing that he knocked this first gift out of the park. Chuckling a little at himself, he gently grabs ahold of her hand and brings it to his lips, kissing it softly.

She looks over to him, wondering how she got to this point. When she first saw Negan, she thought he was the most handsome man that ever existed. Then after living next to him for a little bit, she actually disliked him, thinking that there was nothing more to him than a cocky, womanizing alpha that only cared about himself.

But here he is, spending the day with her. He had thought up the most perfect gift and had someone make it for her. He’s been so patient and caring about her, more so than she would’ve thought anyone would be with her. It brings a smile to her face and she comes to a decision.

I’m gonna have sex with Negan tonight.

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