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plus-size-reader · 3 years

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Everything He Wants pt.3

Carl Grimes x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2080 words

Warnings: none

Summary: The reader and Carl finally get to the bottom of what they feel for each other, but doing something about it isn’t as easy as it seems.

Part 1

Part 2

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There was a bit of awkward silence between all of you for a moment as the men did their best to figure out what was going on.

Clearly, there was something happening but even Carl was lost, and he was part of it.

Rick and Negan had no hope of understanding, and frankly, that was by design. This was something you were going through with Carl and you didn’t want to involve them.

There was no way this was going to end well.

You couldn’t help but scoff, thinking about how something like that would go down. The two of you in love? It was insane. If Negan could hardly even handle a look shared between the two of you, a conversation would kill him.

However, you couldn’t exactly avoid it.

If you didn’t talk to Carl soon and figure out what was going on here, you were going to lose your mind.

Since the last time you’d seen him, you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the strange feeling you got when you were around him, and you weren’t sure where to go from here.

This wasn’t something you were used to, after all. You had never been in this situation before, but you knew one thing for sure.

It wasn’t in your nature to just accept anything, and the way you felt for Carl made you uncomfortable. Because of that, you needed to know how he was feeling or what was going on in his head before you went crazy.

This was too much.

“Hey Carl, why don’t we get out of here” you suggested, offering your hand to him which he took slowly, completely unsure if he was okay with what was happening. After all, this was just as new for him as it was for you, and it wasn’t exactly foolproof.

Neither of you had ever done this before.

You had no idea how this was going to go down, but to be fair, there was more at stake for Carl. He didn’t want to get his dad into any trouble, but once he deduced that Negan wouldn’t overreact, he followed your lead.

Nothing terrible could come from such a casual action, right? No one was going to die because you had a conversation.

You hoped.

Neither of you spoke until you were far enough away from the rest of the people in Alexandria to have some privacy, but when you did, it was casual enough. You had no idea where this was going, but Carl was easy to talk to.

Easier to talk to than anyone else you’d actually spoken to before.

“I’m so sorry about him, he can be just awful sometimes” you shrugged, acting as if your father had just made some inappropriate joke at a parent teacher conference, instead of being the murderer he truly was.

It was a bit dramatic, of course, but Carl decided it would be best not to address that. Instead, he nodded, trying his best to think of what he wanted to say.

For some reason, his tongue always went numb around you and made it impossible to speak.

It was pathetic, and he wouldn’t be surprised if you hated him because of it. He should have been able to talk to you, at the very least, but it just didn’t look like that was going to happen.

You made him nervous.

“I’m really glad you came outside” you smiled, forcing yourself to channel some of Negan’s unending confidence you’d grown accustomed to instead of worrying about what could go wrong here.

Worst case, everything went up in flames and even if that happened, you never had to come here again.

The only thing that could come out of this was good, or at least, something new.

In this world, you lived like every day was your last because it very much could have been, and this wasn’t going to be the end of the world. This was one of those things that people did all the time before.

There was no reason you couldn’t do it now.

“Yeah, it’s no problem. I wanted to” he replied, swinging your two joined hands between your bodies. It should have been a casual motion, but instead, it was stiff and uncertain.

He clearly wasn’t much of a talker but that didn’t bother you, you could fill all the empty space there was.

“This is weird, isn’t it?” you hummed, doing your very best to address him. You had no idea what the best way to do this would be, but evidently, you had decided to just throw away all the strangeness in exchange for reality.

You were both real life people and there were no rules about how you needed to do this.

After all, you didn’t owe anyone anything.

“A little” he decided, still blowing his own mind with the fact he was here at all. There was no reason that the two of you should have had anything in common or cared about one another but here you were.

This was just what happened.

“To be fair though, I think that everything is weird anymore” you shrugged, thinking about how everything had changed.

When you were kids, there was still so much normalcy ahead of you.

You never thought that this was where you would be, but here you were nonetheless.

This was what life was now.

“Yeah”

There was more silence between you as you walked, still holding Carl’s hand in your own, and before long, you were both outside his home, having made a huge circle around the walls of Alexandria.

The streets were still swarming with Saviors and Alexandrians alike as the raid ensued but you paid them no mind.

For you, this was a real sanctuary, something that you hadn’t had in a long time.

There was just something about being with Carl that made you feel like the world wasn’t constantly on the edge of imploding.

It was nice.

You had no idea where this was going or how this had possibly happened, but you weren’t going to argue. Instead, you followed Carl into his home, ignoring all the saviors still littering the place, and made yourself at home.

“You wanna meet Judith?” he asked, his jaw tightening as he watched a few of your men carry out some boxes of things that they were never going to see again.

It was just another reminder of why he shouldn’t be here with you at all.

You were always going to be the enemy.

...And even still, he was introducing you to his sister.

She was absolutely precious and you fell in love immediately. She was a giggly, cooing mess and you couldn’t help but swoon. She had this joy that just radiated off of her that no one else in this world could ever hope to imitate.

It was incredible, but as taken as you were with Judith, Carl was with you.

Even knowing that there was no way this was going to work, he couldn’t help himself.

It was the strangest thing, he couldn’t handle the sight of you with Judith cuddled in your arms. It was the most wholesome scene and it took his breath away, because he’d never felt like this before in his life.

He was in way too deep with you and it was going to be the end of him.

All in all, he was completely screwed.

Then, once Judith had gone down for her nap, you found yourself sitting on Carl’s bed, looking through a few dirty comic books. You hadn’t seen them in several years, of course, as the sanctuary didn’t consider them viable goods.

Still, you were glad to see them.

“You have quite the collection here” you hummed, leafing through the pages, now a bit weathered with age and grime.

This was one thing you didn’t get at home, in the cold industrial environment of the sanctuary.

It wasn’t exactly personal.

Even with all the things that Negan made sure you had, you just felt like there was something more comfortable here than there. It was a home, which was much more than just somewhere that kept you safe.

It was more than a house.

“I like comics” he shrugged back, going out on a limb and sitting down beside you, taking another one of his discarded books in his hands, fiddling with the pages instead of looking you in the face.

He felt weird.

This was weird.

“I like you” you grinned, not looking at him as you spoke, your eyes staying trained on the page in your lap. You had no real idea where a statement like that would get you but you couldn’t help yourself.

You did like him.

There was silence between you both for a few more moments as Carl tried to decide what he wanted to do with that information.

It wasn’t something that surprised him, because you both had been dancing around how you felt for one another, but that didn’t help him know what to do about it.

He didn’t know what he wanted to say or what you wanted to hear.

“I like you too” he smiled, doing his very best to keep his racing heart from stopping completely. This was shaping up to be the first time a girl ever liked him and that was nice, but he was terrified too.

He had never done anything like this before.

“That’s good, cause that would have made this whole thing a lot more awkward” you laughed, reaching out as gingerly as you could to take one of Carl’s hands in your own.

It wasn’t something that was new for either of you, as you held hands on your way up here but for some reason, this was a little different.

There was something going on, something strange, but you had already decided to leave it go.

It was what it was.

This was what it was.

You wanted to say more, to do more, but before you could, you heard that familiar boisterous laugh of Negan. More than likely, this whole thing was coming to an end, which meant that you would have to leave.

It was the last thing you wanted to do, but you didn’t exactly get a choice in the matter.

“I should probably get going. I’ll see you later” you allowed, reluctantly standing from your spot. You were racking your brain, desperately trying to think of any excuse you could find to stay.

...But there wasn’t one.

There was nothing you could say or do that was going to keep you from having to go back to the Sanctuary at some point.

Thankfully though, before you could get too far away from him, Carl decided that he wasn’t willing to just let you go. He was worried about it, worried about what would happen if he let you walk out that door like this.

He needed you to know just how important this whole thing was to him.

Gingerly, he did all that he could to pull you back down to his side with a hand on your wrist.

Then, before he could remind himself that this whole thing was a terrible idea, he brought his lips to your own.

You had no idea what to do at first, but immediately found yourself kissing him back. It wasn’t something you saw coming, of course, but you couldn’t have been more glad that it was happening.

This was all you needed.

This whole time, the feelings you had for him were just swirling around in your stomach, nearly making you sick. However, now that you were here, pressed up against the male, you knew everything you needed to.

It didn’t matter that the two of you were on opposite sides of the war, or from completely different worlds. The two of you shared something much more important than that, experience.

You were the same age, living through the same things, and you didn’t even want to underestimate how important that was.

“Woah” you hummed, resting your forehead against his own as you tried to figure out how you were going to make this whole thing work. It was strange, but you knew that it was going to be fine.

You’d make it work.

Even Carl knew that.

He may not have been any good with words, but at least Carl could find it in himself to make a move.

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writing-of-a-british-bitch · 3 years

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Blame Me- Chapter 3

Fandom: The Walking Dead

Specified gender: Female

Word Count: 5.7K

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader,

TW: Cannibalism (thanks Terminus), reference to past major character death, detailed gore, canon typical violence, canon divergence, reference to past child death, angry Daryl (if that counts), Daryl being mean about religion( IG?)

Genre: Horror ig?

Series: Blame Me

Requests: CLOSED

Masterlist

A/N: I will warn you, I kind of got carried away with Chapter 4, so get ready for that tomorrow. This one felt a little rushed, but the ending is worth it (I hope!) Enjoy!

For once, Daryl was cursing himself for being right. Terminus had been too fucking good to be true. Ask too many questions, and apparently, you get eaten. He was lined up, with Glenn, Bob and Rick, and apparently, he was the only one fighting against them. They just sat there and let them tie them up for fucks sake. He couldn't die, not like this. He wouldn't die just to be someones damn meal. Daryl got shoved in front of a trough-like bowl that stretched before the other men who were on either side of him. One look from Rick and Glenn made him pause, and he glared right back, breathing heavily, but he stopped fighting. The room was deadly still as two people dressed in butchers outfit came in, and he went cold. Fuck. They walked to the opposite end, grabbing the hair of a blonde guy at the end and one smacked him with a baseball bat. Once he was out, the other slit his throat, and immediately panic arose, and Glenn started panicking beside him. This continued down the line until it got to Glenn, and Daryl felt the dread building and building in his stomach, watching the blood run through the trough. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Glenn's hair got pulled back, and Daryl could tell the younger man was already apologising to Maggie in his head. The first butcher raised the bat above his head but was stopped when the leader, Gareth walked through.

"Hey, guys, what were your shot counts?" He asked, looking up from the clipboard in his hand. The first guy answered almost instantly with "38" but the guy with the knife hesitated "Hey! Your shot count"

"Crap, man, I'm sorry. It was my first roundup," He sighed. Daryl had to resist making a face of disgust. How could they discuss these things so casually as if they weren't killing people for food right in front of them?

"After you're done here, go back to your point and count the shells. Kaylee won't be gathering them until tomorrow. Oh, and also, did you both register your reports on that girl who tried to escape the other day?" Gareth questioned, raising an eyebrow. Rick narrowed his eyes at the man, while Bob started wriggling, and making small noises to get his attention. Both butchers gave responses of yes simultaneously "Great."

"What happened to her?" One asked, but Daryl couldn't determine which. Didn't fucking care at this point.

"Kaylee's got her. She's a fighter, I'll give her that. She'll break eventually. Don't worry about it," Gareth shrugged.

God these guys really were another level of asshole. If eating people didn't qualify that enough.

"Hey, let me talk to you for a minute! Let me talk to you for a minute. Let me talk to you for a minute!"Bob exclaimed, muffled through the gag. What the hell was he doing? Gareth turned back with an exasperated sigh, crouching down in front of him and yanking the gag out.

"What?"

"Don't do this. We can fix this," Bob tried to reason.

"No, you can't," Gareth rolled his eyes and moved to put the gag back in Bob's mouth.

"You don't have to do this. We told you there's a way out of all this. You just have to take a chance. We have a man who knows how to stop it. He has a cure. We just have to get him to Washington. You don't have to do this, man. We can put the world back to how it was," Now he was being stupid. Gareth was clearly a psychopath, there was no reasoning with a man like him. Daryl was, however, becoming increasingly aware of how long the guy at the end had been dead. He'd turn soon if they didn't deal with it.

"Can't go back, Bob," Gareth put the gag back in. Bob's eyes widened as he kept begging.

"We can! You don't have to do this!" Gareth rolled his eyes, turning to look at Rick instead. Daryl saw him stiffen, eyes hardening as he looked to the man who threatened his son. Gareth pulled the gag out and Rick held back a snarl, clutching the chunk of wood tighter

"We saw you go into the woods with a bag and come out without it. Had to pull my spotters back before we could go look for it. What was in it? You hid it, right? In case things went bad? Smart. Still, we'll find it. But it's too dangerous to go out there right now.," He suddenly grabbed Bob by the back of the neck and held a knife to his eye., but Rick didn't say anything. "What was in it? I'm curious. And it was a big bag. You really gonna let me do this?

"Well, let me take you out there I'll show you," Daryl watched the exchange carefully. Rick had started to go full Shane recently, and Gareth was messing with the wrong fucking guy.

"Not gonna happen. This might," Gareth moved the knife closer to Bob's eye, and he could see him trying not to flinch.

"There's guns in it. AK-47. .44 Magnum. Automatic weapons. Nightscope. There's a compound bow and a machete with a red handle. That's what I'm gonna use to kill you," Rick growled, glaring. The sharpened piece of wood he was holding was starting to make his hand bleed he was holding it so tightly.

Gareth only laughed, putting the gag back in "Thanks," He stood up and began walking back, calling to the two butchers "You have two hours to get them on the driers. I'm gonna go back to public face. Now's the time we can get messy, but we need to dial it all in by sundown."

The butchers nodded, pulling their goggles and gloves back on, but just when they were about to get back to work, they heard gunshots ring out from outside. Gareth looked at the window puzzled before pulling the radio from his side. Glenn's breathing was getting rapid as the panic built back up. One of the butchers raised the bat again slowly.

"Hey, Chuck?" Another gunshot sounded, stopping the butcher. Daryl looked around, meeting Rick's gaze briefly before a loud explosion shook the ground, knocking them to the floor, so Daryl was on the back of Glenn's legs. He could see black smoke through the window, and he already knew that there would be a herd of walkers following through.

"Hey, what the hell was that? Do you copy?"Someone on the radio asked, sounding slightly scared.

"You stay here," Gareth commanded, beginning to walk out.

"Gareth these guys aren't going anywhere-"

"Stay here until I know what's happening!" Gareth screamed, running out. The butchers exchanged a frustrated look, but stayed put, rising from the ground. Daryl and Glenn had started rubbing their wrists together hoping to break the zip ties holding them down, and Glenn let out a noise of pain.

"So we just sit here?" Knife guy asked

"Got a job to do," the Baseball guy replied, nonchalantly. They stood there for a minute, not even noticing Daryl and Glenns escape attempt, but the knife guy started pacing as they heard more and more gunshots. They started bickering. Daryl didn't even fucking care anymore. He had to get out of these restraints and get his family out of this shit hole. But apparently, while the butchers had failed to notice him, he'd failed to notice Rick, as he came behind one of them and stabbed him in the temple, then moved and stabbed the other in the neck. Except he stabbed the guy in the neck over and over and over, showing that Rick style homicidal rage, that stopped Daryl in his tracks. Rick rushed over and used the stake to tear his and Glenn's bindings, eyes frantic. Daryl stood up, tugging the gag from his mouth in relief.

"Sounds like a damn war," He huffed, picking up one of the knives from the table while Rick cut Bob free.

"What the hell are these people?" Bob asked, scrambling to his feet.

"They ain't people," Daryl remarked, and for a split second, his mind flickered to his girl. That was something she'd say. Maybe she'd rubbed off on him. But he couldn't think about that right now. He had to get out. Had to get them out. Bob went to stab one of the butchers in the head but Rick stopped him immediately.

"Don't. Let him turn."

The four men made their way out of the room, further into the slaughterhouse. They entered a room, where there were bodies hung up like animals, dried and headless. Daryl had never been someone with a weak stomach. Hell, all his years of hunting and the apocalypse had stopped that. But seeing the bodies made his stomach churn in disgust. Rick clearly had the same thought in mind.

"You cross any of these people, you kill them. Don't hesitate," He walked further in the room, Daryl following behind. He tucked the machete into his belt and picked up another knife and Rick looked over to him. "They won't."

Gunfire kept roaring from outside, and Daryl used his elbow to break off a chunk of metal from a machine. He didn't even want to know what it did. They reached the door and saw walkers crowded around a container, where some people were screaming for help inside, possibly some of Terminus' other hostages.

"If we run, we can get by them. They're distracted," Rick stated but Glenn shook his head.

"We got to let those people out. That's still who we are. It's got to be," Glenn replied, determined. Daryl didn't take his eyes off the walkers, knife out and ready to kill if he had to. There was a short pause, and Rick nodded, opening the door. All the noise from outside rose to an insane volume and it almost made Daryl's ears ache as he rushed out first, stabbing walkers, the rest of his boys right behind. It turned out the guy in the container was not only a member of Terminus but also absolutely batshit. They didn't have to worry about him long though - a walker took quick care of him, tearing out the muscles of his shoulder, as the guy screamed.

The place was overrun. There were walkers everywhere, and they weren't entirely sure how they were going to get out of this one. Daryl was more focused on keeping Glenn in place so he didn't do anything rash to get back to Maggie. He couldn't blame him. If (Y/N) were in that container still, he'd do something stupid to get back to her. Rick suddenly sprinted off, ignoring the groups' calls of his name. They watched as some of Terminus shot down a bunch of walkers, Rick crouched out of view behind a car. Daryl let out an annoyed growl. The damn fool was gonna get himself killed doing this. So, he followed after him, watching his back as Rick killed one of the Terminus men and stole his gun, using it to shoot walkers and Terminus alike. The walkers were helping to take out some of Terminus, but it was getting too full, and even Rick could see they wouldn't be able to get past all the walkers. He and Daryl ran back to Bob and Glenn, who looked pissed off that he'd run off again.

"We're gonna have to double back."

They made it back to the container their family was in and they pried the doors open. Daryl, Glenn and Bob were watching Rick's back as he instructed everyone, Abraham, Sasha, Michonne, Carl, Tara, Rosita, Eugene and Maggie, out of the box. But the annoying bastards just kept coming and coming. They were running out of time. Out of the corner of his eye, Glenn saw someone fighting a ginger woman. One of Terminus. The other woman was covered in walker's guts, using the disguising trick but he could see (H/C) hair. But he didn't think anything of it. She was probably just another hostage who was taking advantage of the situation. He couldn't worry about her now, he had to worry about his family. Daryl saw Carl and Rick talking for a split second before the chaos resumed, and they were fighting their way out, guts and blood spilling everywhere.

Anywhere you looked, there was a walker or a Terminus person. Daryl was leading, keeping his people safe from the front, and Rick was a the back. They were storming ahead, so so close to the fence. But Rick and Carl were slowing, from exhaustion and panic. Rick heard an awful yell from his son and spun around to see a walker gripping his sleeve and trying to pull his arm to its mouth. Rick went to rush forward, but the walker was suddenly dead, crumbling to the ground. Carls fearful eyes looked over and saw a woman, covered in guts, (H/C) sticking to her face and (E/C) eyes looking at him almost tenderly. Rick ran to his son, and pulled him away, staring the woman down. But she only narrowed her eyes and yelled "Go!" before disappearing into the crowd of walkers. Within seconds, she was gone. They didn't have time to dwell on it now. Gareth and the few members of Terminus that remained started shooting at them from the rooftop. They rushed through the rest of the walkers, ducking bullets and stabbing walkers and met their group at the fence. Daryl climbed over first, then Abraham lifted Eugene over, then Carl and the rest of the group, leaving himself for last.

When they were back at the bag, Daryl crouched down, taking a deep breath. Shit, that was way too close. They'd gotten lucky. Whoever had caused an explosion had saved their damn lives. And he didn't even know who it was. Maybe one of the idiots at Terminus had fucked something up and caused it. Or maybe someone was looking out for them. Hell if he knew. Hell if he cared anymore. His family was safe and that's all the mattered now. Rick started digging out the guns, mumbling out a plan as the rest of the group caught their breath, letting what just happened finally sink in. That is until Rick started talking about back to Terminus. They'd barely gotten out the first time! Some of the group started arguing back, but Daryl didn't give a shit anymore. He just leant against a tree, watching, listening.

A rustle of branches made him turn around and he froze, as the rest of the group did. They stared wide-eyed as Carol came out of the trees. They watched in amazement as Daryl sprinted over and dragged her into a tight hug, grasping onto her desperately and lifting her off her feet. She laughed lightly, grinning when he pulled back. Holy shit. She was alive. She was alive. She'd saved them. If anyone saw the tears running down his cheeks, no one said anything.

Daryl's feet were aching. The roads seemed to stretch on for miles. But the pain in his feet was nothing compared to the anger and undealt with grief. The losses were building up and up and he didn't know how much more he could take. Half the camp, Sophia, Dale, Shane (but no one really missed him), Patricia and Jimmy (though admittedly he didn't know them that well), Lori, T-Dog, Merle, Andrea, almost everyone who'd come to stay at the prison, Hershel, Bob, Tyreese... Beth. The only thing he was holding out hope for was his girl. Her ma lived in South Carolina, and with them being en route to Washington, he had to pray that maybe she made her way up there. Carl, Little Ass-Kicker and the hope of his girl were the only things keeping him going.

He'd started losing hope in his girl. Beth had died, and he'd been right fucking there. He was a hundred and more miles away from (Y/N). Now, she was strong, but he doubted she could live in a world like this. It'd destroy her. While he wanted to hold out hope and go looking for her, where would he even start? She could be anywhere by now, and there's no guarantee he'd even find her. An awful part of him wished she was dead. A disgusting, horrifying part of him, deep deep down, hoped she was dead so she didn't have to live a life like this. Didn't have to suffer like this. Deep down, Daryl knew she would hate the person he'd become. Probably hate him for what happened to Merle, too. He couldn't face that. He couldn't. Carol could see the way his eyes had drained. She could see what was happening. She was exhausted and hungry, but she wasn't blind.

She'd been hovering. Watching over him like a damn mother hen. He was getting sick and fucking tired of her constant gaze. He knew she only wanted what was best but god if he wasn't getting frustrated. Daryl could practically hear his girl's voice in his head, lecturing him about not being so cold to her, since Carol had done everything to protect him, and was his best friend. He snorted quietly at the thought of his girl standing there lecturing him, and being worried more about him and Carol than finding supplies. Sounded like her.

It was quiet now. No one spoke unless they had to. They were too weak. They hadn't had proper food in months, living off the little amount of food Daryl could hunt down, and the water was so scarce, some people were starting to get dizzy. Most of the food and water went to Judith and Carl now anyway. Everyone was hoping. Some, for the few that still believed in that shit, were even praying that we'd get some rain. But apparently, someone had seen them first and left them some water. Daryl and Rick eyed it suspiciously. Nowadays you could never be too careful. Abraham was still angry, but that wasn't anything new. That man was filled with more rage than anyone Daryl had ever met, except perhaps Merle. Shit, he missed that son of a bitch. Abraham was so angry that he smacked the bottle out of Eugene's hands when he went to take a sip. The atmosphere bristled, and Daryl could already tell an argument was about to start, and he shook his head, readjusting the bag and his crossbow. But it was all cut short when there were a few claps of thunder. Everyone looked up, hopeful glances being exchanged when the skies opened, and rain began pouring. Tara and Rosita started laughing, lying down on the floor, and some people opened their mouths to drink it before Rick ordered people to get out any bottles they had and filling them with the water. Daryl couldn't smile. He couldn't find enjoyment in it, and by the looks of it, neither could Sasha or Maggie. Every day it got harder or harder to meet her eyes. There was no blame on him, so he had no reason for guilt, but he couldn't help it. And it was eating away at him. Had been for the past three weeks.

The group were sat around a tiny fire, lightning flashing every so often and illuminating the room. Maggie was laying alone on the opposite end of the barn, and Carl was curled up behind Rick, clutching Judith to his chest. Carol walked over and plopped herself next to Daryl. Glenn was sat on his other side, engaging in an entirely different conversation. Daryl gave her a glance. She was staring at him, eyes narrowed like she was trying to read his mind, and it was starting to freak him out.

"You can't give up on her," Carol muttered, after a long moment of her staring him down. He scoffed, looking away. The hell did she know anyway. "You haven't given up yet, why give up now?"

"It's been nearly two years Carol. She's probably dead by now," He grumbled, watching the glint of his ring in the light of the fire. She shoved him lightly, her eyes moving to a glare.

"Don't talk like that," She snapped, quietly. Daryl kept his eyes on his ring, but he could feel the irritation starting to radiate off her. "You still wear your ring. You still carry that recorder. You've nearly broken a man's arm to get it back for god's sake. You can't give up on her. I won't let you."

For some reason, that got under his skin, and he could feel anger pouring in. It bubbled and boiled and his cold stare fixed on her so suddenly that Carol almost jumped.

"The hell ya gonna do to stop me?" He snarled. She didn't know shit about (Y/N) who the fuck was she to talk about his girl "You've never even met her. Ya don't know what she's like."

"No, I don't, but I know how much you love her. How much you're relying on her. And I can see how guilty you feel about Beth," Daryl was glaring now, and Carol understood she was walking into dangerous territory. "It wasn't your fault. There was nothing you could have done. But you can't start separating yourself from us, from (Y/N). You'll get yourself killed."

"What do you care? I ain't your responsibility," He growled before picking up his crossbow before walking to a corner of the barn. Carol watched him leave and made no move to stop him. Glenn gave her an alarmed look, only having heard the tail end of the conversation. Who the hell was (Y/N)? Carol shook her head, telling him not to push it and he reluctantly looked back to the others, who were still deep in conversation. She then noticed the little recorder where Daryl had been sitting. It had a few chips, and it was dirty as hell, but Daryl had gone through hell to keep it safe. Carol picked it up and spun it in her hands, before opening Daryl's bag, wrapping it in a bit of cloth and tucking it away.

How they'd managed to convince Rick, he had no idea. Though, in honesty, Daryl thought he would have jumped at the opportunity to be somewhere where Carl and Judith would be safe. But after Terminus, he couldn't blame the man for being sceptical. This guy, Aaron, there was something off about him. He couldn't put his finger on what. Either way, part of him was relieved to be out of that damn barn. Stunk of horse shit. But getting holed up in a car service place tucked into a wall with a guy with a broken ankle, wasn't exactly that much better. Daryl's family was safe. Rick's family was safe. That's what mattered. When dawn rolled around, he was startled to find himself actually hoping for this place to work. They didn't have many other choices if it didn't. They couldn't have another Terminus situation. They were all piled into the small RV and an even smaller car, and it was definitely too close quarters for Daryl to be comfortable. As usual, it went to shit when the battery went flat. Glenn was quick to use the skills that Dale had taught him to fix it up, but Daryl had taken refuge on the roof, looking out for walkers. He could feel Carol and Glenn's eyes on his back. He'd much prefer it if that could just fuck off rather than giving those annoying ass pity looks.

When they pulled up, they heard a noise they hadn't heard in a long time. Children laughing. It felt almost alien to them, and maybe this place could work out. There were no kids at Terminus. Barely any at Woodbury. If kids were having fun here, maybe they had a chance. Collectively, the group sucked in a breath as the gate started to pull back. When it opened, a ton of pristine houses were revealed down long roads, children running in the street. Aaron helped Eric limp inside and someone took him and started leading him off, presumably to the infirmary. A bristle in the bushes made the group snap over, and Daryl didn't hesitate on pressing the trigger and picking up the possum, presenting it to the man behind the gate.

"We brought dinner!"He declared, and he heard some of the group stifle chuckles and smiles. The man behind the gate looked at them warily.

"It's okay, Nicholas," Aaron reassured, placing his hand out "C'mon in guys."

Gradually, the group started wandering in, Glenn and Daryl in the lead, as Rick held Judith tightly.

"Before we take this any further, I need you all the hand over your weapons," Nicholas stated, eyeing Daryl carefully, who still held the possums tail "Stay, you hand them over."

"We don't know if we want to stay," Rick responded instantly, somehow still looking threatening even with a baby at his hip "If we were gonna use them, we would have started already."

"Let them talk to Deanna, first," Aaron turned his head to Nicholas but was turned back by Abraham, who had his shoulders squared.

"Who's Deanna?"

"She knows everything you wanna know about this place. Rick, why don't you start?" Aaron advised, and Rick tilted his head. Daryl observed him, noticing the suspicion behind his eyes. Rick turned around at the sound of a walker snarling and signalled Sasha to take care of it. Headshot. Daryl tried to hide his smirk and the astounded look on Nicholas' face. Guy seemed like a jackass. He wanted to keep his eye on him.

The group were forced to sit outside on someone's porch (a house! what the fuck) while Rick was lead inside by a short, blonde-haired woman. She seemed innocent but she was hiding something. Daryl and Michonne could see it. In the way she held herself, the way she talked, the way she looked at them. When Rick came out about fifteen minutes later, Daryl was next to go in. He was still holding the possum, crossbow on his back as he was lead into the living room. It was nice. Untouched, as if the world hadn't ended outside the gates. He hadn't been in somewhere like this since before the apocalypse. Since (Y/N). He kept messing with random shit he could find. Pacing, restlessly. Deanna just sat on the couch opposite, her eyes following where he went. Acting like a damn hawk. She already pissed him off, and she hadn't even done anything. There was a video camera set up, recording everything. He had to thank Carol later for putting his back in his bag.

"You're welcome to sit, Daryl. I won't bite," Deanna finally said, and he looked up at her through long greasy hair, frowning.

"Yeah, I'm alrigh'" He replied quietly, turning to look at the bookshelf behind him. He didn't really know what he was doing, he just didn't want to have this awkward conversation and was trying to avoid it as long as possible.

"Daryl, do you want to be here?"She questioned, a touch of impatience in her voice but Daryl still didn't look at her.

"The boy and the baby. They deserve a roof. I guess," He answered, turning his ring with his thumb as it dangled by his side. Apparently, she didn't miss the motion.

"You're married?"

"Does it matter?" He shot back, voice becoming icy and there was a glimmer of amusement in her eyes.

"You'd be surprised," Deana smiled slightly and he glared back at her, his suspicion only raising further.

"The hell does that mean?" Daryl challenged, getting closer. She shook her head, smile dropping, before standing up and moving to turn the video recorder off.

"You're free to go."

"You okay?" Carl asked, making Daryl jump a little as he appeared at his side. Daryl knocked the brim of his hat, making Carl chuckle.

"That woman asks some weird questions," Was his reply, before he sat down, waiting for the others to finish their 'interviews'.

Rick looked between the two houses in amazement. He and Carl had left after Carl had finished talking, trusting Glenn and Maggie to look after his daughter. Aaron has whisked the pair away presenting them with the two houses they were giving the large group. He'd since walked away, walking down the road towards his house to look for Eric. Rick looked at his son, who had a grin on his face at the promise of being in a house again. Carl looked out after Aaron. A woman, maybe a little younger than Rick rushed out as Aaron neared, and wrapped her arms around him. Even from the distance, he could see the relief on her face and Aaron laughed lightly before leading her back inside. He was sure he'd find out who that was later.

Rick had insisted on staying in one house for the time being, just for safety, but Daryl wasn't complaining. He'd rather his family be together if they couldn't have their weapons. He felt almost naked without his crossbow. And he'd made very good work of pretending not to see Carl's knife. Smart kid. Daryl was sat next to Little Ass Kickers crib, peering over it protectively as Michonne came back through from the bathroom. She and Rick exchanged a hushed conversation when a knock at the door sounded, and Deanna walked in. She started talking but paused when she saw everyone huddled together rather than being separated. She gave some bullshit speech on family and how amazing it was, and Daryl rolled his eyes. He couldn't help it.

"Everybody said you gave them jobs," Rick said, but it sounded more like a question and Deana made a hum of agreement.

"It's part of this place. Looks like the Communists won after all," God if someone didn't put a bolt through her brain soon Daryl swore to whatever was up there he would. Rick gave a polite smile but it was strained.

"Well, you didn't give me one," He stated

"I have. I just haven't told you yet. Same with Michonne. I'm closing in on something for Sasha. And I'm just trying to figure Mr Dixon out, but I will," Daryl scoffed at that. Yeah, it took his group two years and they still haven't. Good luck with that. Deanna gave Daryl a smile, but it felt condescending. She looked back up at Rick "You look good."

And she was gone.

The group took off the next morning, going to explore, but Daryl stayed on the porch. Rick exited, raising his eyebrows at the redneck.

"They said explore. Let's explore," He almost commanded but he was smiling. First time in a long time.

"Naw, I'll stay," Daryl said, shifting. Deanna had dropped by earlier this morning and handed him his crossbow. He was still extremely confused as to why but he sure as hell wasn't going to complain about it. Rick sighed, closing the door behind him.

"C'mon brother. Just come with us for a few minutes. Then you can come back here and brood all you like. Just pretend for a few minutes," Rick teased. Daryl scowled but Rick could see the playfulness in his eyes. It was nice, seeing Daryl slightly more at ease even if he was struggling to settle.

There was a long pause before Daryl gave a grunt of agreement, grudgingly picking up his crossbow and shoving it on his back. The pair jogged to catch up with the others, soon falling into the crowd of their family. They saw Aaron coming out of his house and Maggie raised a hand in a small greeting. He stepped over and the group started chatting. Daryl could tell the recruiter was hoping to clear the water a little bit. He didn't seem like a bad guy but Daryl couldn't let his guard down. But then someone followed out of Aaron's house, walking out onto the road and looking over to the family with a gleeful smile. Carl waved at her, recognising her from yesterday and she waved back. But the smile dropped, and Daryl froze in place like a statue. Carol noticed how stiff he'd gone beside her and followed his eyes and she froze too. A small smile climbed onto her lips. He couldn't breathe. He could hardly believe what he was seeing. He had to be dreaming. This couldn't be real.

"Daryl?"

But it was, she was right there. (H/C) hair blowing in the slight breeze and her eyes sparkling with building tears. Holy shit.

(Y/N).

His (Y/N).

Carol watched as the crossbow fell from his shoulder and Daryl shoved past his group and sprinted. He didn't think he'd moved so fast in his whole damn life because he blinked and all of a sudden, she was stood right before her. She stood there, taking him in. He couldn't breathe. She was there. She was right there. And he lunged for her, pulling her into him tightly, and placing a hand on the back of her head protectively. He could feel her fingers digging into his skin through his jacket, and he knew he couldn't let her go even if he wanted to. She was alive. She was here! Daryl wasn't a crier, that was for sure, but hell, he couldn't stop the relieved sobs he was letting out into her neck. She was whispering to him, though a trembling voice, but he couldn't hear what she was saying. He just felt her, her breath on his neck, his fingers on his back, her hair tickling his nose, her tears on his chest.

"Holy shit, "Was all he could get out, and (Y/N) let out a weepy laugh, pulling back just enough so she could see his face. Her hands moved to hold his face, running her thumbs over his cheeks.

"If you haven't brushed your teeth, I am going to kill you, Dixon," she grinned, before pulling him into a hard kiss. He held onto her, even as the outside world started coming back to him. As he heard the confused voices of his family and Aaron. As he heard the joyful, but the slightly teary voice of Carol.

He just held onto her.

TAGS: OPEN

Tags (for this series): @graniairish @fuseburner @gloomystorm @bxxbxy @browneyes528 @hoemadegrace

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writingsfromhome · 4 years

Text

Plus a Little Extra II

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

I wait at our lunch table for Harry, he skipped class before lunch so I didn’t walk with him here like we usually did. I check my phone but my five messages remain unread. There was only a half hour left so I open my lunch. May as well start.

“Want some company?”

I look up at James who sits down before I can even respond. The awkwardness I feel around him doubles as he starts talking.

“If you’re waiting for Harry and May, I saw them skipping. They took her car somewhere so he’s probably not coming back to school.”

“Oh,” I look down at my food. He couldn’t even text me. “Thanks.”

“What do you have after lunch?” James asks casually. So I respond in the same way and he tells me his schedule. “It sucks my schedule is Y/N-less,” He pouts and I can’t help the small smile. He points to it and says, “There she is.”

“Who?” I turn around but James throws a chip at me.

“You! You’ve been grumpy-face whenever I see you around.”

“I’m not grumpy-face, and who even says that?”

“Sophisticated people.” James gives me one of his charming smiles and I remember why I harbored a crush on him for so long. Why he might’ve been my boyfriend now if it weren’t for the belated revelation, that I was in love with my best friend.

After that night at May’s, James and I hung out a few times but he caught on that I was always watching Harry and May. He’d asked me if I liked Harry as more than a friend and James deserved the truth. He’d been polite about it but quickly stopped asking me to hang out. We never really talked much after that, until now. I guess he really was over it. Or he was just a really good guy which made me a shitier person for leading him on. And Harry the absolute shittiest, for opening Pandora’s Box that day in the pool.

“So what’s up with you?” I ask James.

“The usual,” James shrugs. “Hey Ricky’s throwing a thing at his house this Friday-you gonna be there?”

“Ricky? Like Ricky-Ricky?” I arch a brow and James laughs.

“I know, I know you hate him. But he blacks out an hour into his parties. You don’t have to worry, you won’t see much of him.”

“Maybe,” I say as the warning bell rings. “I might have a lot of homework.”

“Never took you for a liar Y/L/N,” James smiles. God he was so dreamy. I watch him skip away into the crowd leaving me alone again. I take my phone out again, still no Harry.

***

“Y/N,” Harry’s voice calls from behind my locker at the end of the day. I tilt the door to glare at him. “I bought you something to say sorry I ditched you.” Harry holds out an iced coffee but it looks half-melted. He explains, “it was a long ride back.”

“Next time, just send me a text that you’re skipping the day,” I close my locker and begin walking out. “It’s a lot cheaper.”

“I will, promise.” Harry still pushes the drink in my hand so I take it.

“Yum, watery,” I say after I take a sip. He rolls his eyes, and I’m satisfied I’d gotten him just as annoyed so I ease up. “Are you still dropping me off to work?”

“Duh,” Harry says.

“You just ditched me on the first day of school,” I remind him. “Don’t duh me.”

“Your chariot,” Harry opens my door for me and I sit inside.

“Let’s get this heap of junk on the road,” I slap the roof once he sits in.

He strokes the same spot, “She doesn’t really mean that, she’s just jealous.” He tells his car and I laugh. He was such a weirdo.

“So are you going to Rick’s party?” I ask Harry once we near work.

“Yeah, are you?” Harry asks.

“James asked, I think I will.”

“You two are a thing again?” Harry glances over. I never really explained to him why we stopped being “a thing” in the first place. I couldn’t.

“No, we’re just friends. But I think I’ll be going.”

“Really?” Harry knew how I felt about Rick. “I’ll pick you up!”

“You sure the car will take another round of two passengers?” I ask, the car was given to him by an uncle who was going to scrap it. Harry dramatically told me the week before school started—we were never going to bus to a party ever again. If I knew what the car looked like, I wouldn’t have minded another year on the bus.

“I’ll take you where you want if you agree to be the designated driver?” Harry smiles sweetly.

“Ugh, whatever. I’ll probably crash us into a tree but okay.”

“Great,” Harry pulls up in front of my workplace. “Now go sell some records.”

I close the door gently, to be dramatic and Harry grins. I laugh as I watch him drive off.

***

“You look...nice.” Harry eyes me as I get ready. I was running late that evening, having gotten sucked into the show I was watching I’d lost track of time. He was used to this, so he just makes himself comfortable in my chair. His phone buzzes a few times.

“May?” I ask.

“Yeah,” a giddy smile takes over his face when I mention her and it feels like I’d swallowed a dumbbell as it drop right down to my stomach. I should be happy for him.

“You really like her, huh?” I look to the mirror for mascara. I decided on a risky outfit today, not something I usually wore. I’d stuck a finger up to my insecurity and worn a wrap dress with a deep V. I can’t remember the last time I showed this much cleavage and by Harry’s reaction it was obvious how different it was for me. I didn’t hide my curves today, I was feeling bold.

“She makes me feel...good.” Harry looks lost in thought. “She’s really nice and always wants to hear what I have to say. I dunno. She’s cool.”

Like someone who matched her personality to his, I think. But I don’t say it. After Harry and May made it official, I did keep an ear out for the May gossip. Most people thought Harry was gullible for falling for her. After the way she told James about me, I’d kept an eye out for her anyway. Even though she was always nice to me around Harry, I knew there were deeper layers than what she showed him. But I didn’t want to be the one to break it to him. I didn’t want to lose my best friend like that.

“You sure you want to wear that?” Harry asks before I get in his car.

“Why?” I grow self conscious again, tugging at the top. “Do I look bad? Am I showing too much?”

“No,” he says gently, removing my hands from where it’s tugging at the hem. “I just want to make sure you don’t want to bring a sweater in case it gets cold?”

“Oh shit yeah, I should grab-“

“Nevermind. I have an extra in the car just take that.” Harry peeks into the back of the car where it was covered in clothes and empty bags as if he lived out of it. “And you look good. James will regret rejecting you.”

I sigh, unable to say the truth but feeling guilty for making James the bad guy. “It was mutual.” I mumble.

At the party, May’s already waiting for us near the front. She latches onto Harry and drags him away but Harry grabs my arm to make sure I’m not left behind. This wasn’t exactly my group so I have no one to gravitate to until I spot two of my friends. I tell Harry and a happier May goodbye.

“So you two really never, y’know?” One of my friend asks as they watch May and Harry get it on on the couch. Ugh.

“I only recently heard the rumours,” I confess. “We really are just friends. Nothing’s happened between us.”

“But you wish it did?” She asks.

I shrug, “We’re best friends. It would be weird.”

“May’s going to ruin your man to the ground, he’ll need a ‘best friend’” my friend teases.

“Hey,” I swat at her and she laughs. I catch James eye behind her and wave. He comes over and greets my friends before asking me to follow him.

“You look particularly nice today Ms. Y/L/N,” James says once he leads me into the corner of the kitchen. I leans against the cabinets behind me and relax, James was a source of comfort in this unfamiliar crowd and after seeing Harry with his tongue down May’s throat, I wanted to banish the image from my mind.

“Thank you,” I trace the logo on his shirt. “I decided to step out of my comfort zone today.”

“Yeah?” James’ eyes are on the V of my dress and I feel the blood rush to my face. But I push past it. How was I ever going to find a boyfriend and get over Harry if I cringed any time a guy looked at my body like this. “You should step out of your comfort zone more often.”

When James looks at me, he doesn’t even hide the want in his eyes and I want to kiss him so badly but I need him to make the first move-he was the one who broke it off. I clear my throat, “Why’s that?”

“So I can do this,” James leans down and-finally kisses my collarbone. I can’t stop the gasp but James takes it the wrong way and steps away. “Sorry is that okay? I-“

“No no,” I pull him back to me. “Are you sure though? After the summer I thought...”

“The damn dress,” James mutters as he puts his forehead against mine. “I can’t resist a beautiful girl in a beautiful dress like this.”

“Okay,” I say, a welcome for James to continue what he was doing. I tilt my head as he kisses my neck up to my jaw, hesitating until I tip-toe and press my lips to his. And then there’s no stopping, and I forget how much I hated PDA.

Luckily, James stops and grabs my hand to lead me upstairs. But before we make it to the staircase, Rick the dick spots me.

“If it isn’t Y/N,” he sneers. James tries to move me behind him but I stand my ground. “You show up to my party looking like that and don’t even thank the host? Maybe a little lap dance, a k-“

“Ricky,” James warns. “That’s enough.”

“Fuck off Rick,” I speak up for myself.

“Why? She taken? She yours?” The creep ignores me and only addresses James as he walks up to us and flicks the strings of my dress. I slap his hand away and he pretends that it burns. “Don’t be a bitch Y/N, all you have to do-“

A hand comes from nowhere, knocking him to the ground. I whip my head to my left and Harry stands over Ricky who-as James put it-was blacked out in the first hour of his party. Maybe for the first time, not from alcohol.

“Harry what are you-“

“You were just going to use your words while he’s touching Y/N up?” Harry turns to James with rage in his eyes. I’d never seen him like this.

“He was defending-“ my words are drowned out by the crowd shouting for a fight. I push Harry away from James and my eyes flick to May in the crowd. She rolls her eyes at me and finally steps in to grab his arm. I mouth I’m fine, to Harry but he glares at James.

“Sorry,” I grab James’ arm but he just shakes his head.

“Why are you apologising. Let’s just go.”

He pushes past the crowd and we head upstairs while Ricky’s friends drag him to a corner.

“I’m sorry,” James says as we miraculously find an empty bedroom. He sits on the edge of the bed and I join him. “I’m not really a violent person I just thought I could get him to back off-“

“I’m not a violent person either,” I say. “I’d rather wipe the smirk off his face with a good snarky comment.”

James turns, the ghost of a smile returning to his face. “You would, wouldn’t you?”

“Yep,” I whisper. I feel the urge to kiss his nose so I do just that and it makes us laugh. He pulls me onto his lap and kisses me, toying with the strings of my dress. I finally think it’s going somewhere when he breaks away.

“Are we going too fast?” He asks. I shake my head, if anything we were going too slow! I kiss him again but a loud noise outside distracts us. Someone pounds on the door so we untangle ourselves and open it. Ricky looks absolutely smashed on the other side as he begins swearing at James.

“I’ll put him to bed,” James sighs as he pushes Rick off and closes the door behind him but not before I catch Harry by the stairs, clenching his jaw. I didn’t want him to get into another fight and have to drive him to the ER but I figure May had it covered. Tonight I was with James, who was kind and thoughtful, and who really actually liked me.

I walk up to a mirror on the wall, this must be Ricky’s sister’s room. I knew very little about him but I did know his sister was married and living in Egypt. I guess they never changed her room.

The light coming in from the window reflect a flushed Y/N. My lips are swollen, hair tousled and my dress is off my shoulder. I take a deep breath and pull the strings of my dress, unloop it, and allow it to fall open to the black undergarments. I feel pretty. I knew if I turned on the light, I might not feel the same way, but for now...I felt pretty.

I flop back onto the bed, no longer caring if James walked in to see me like this. Maybe then things could pick up the pace.

When the door opens I don’t pay it much mind, thinking it was James. But the person doesn’t say anything. I sit up.

“Harry!” I yelp as I pull the fabric of my dress to cover my nakedness. “Why are you such a creep! I thought you were James!”

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at me with an odd expression. Maybe he had too much to drink.

I stand up and walk to him, “Harry? Are you alright? Did something happen?”

He finally looks at me again, his throat bobbing up and down as he swallows.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice raspier than usual.

“Yeah? Are you okay? You’re acting weird.”

He takes my hand off his forehead and puts it on his shoulder. Realisation sets in as he slowly takes the hand clutching my dress shut and gives it a gentle tug. I don’t know why, but I let go of the fabric and he watches with blackened eyes as the panels fall away. The cool air gives me goosebumps, but I’m not entirely sure it was because I was cold.

“Harry,” I whisper. I didn’t know what was happening but I couldn’t take my eyes off his face as he took me in. My body. He looks at me like he was seeing me for the first time and it makes me weak. I wanted him to keep looking at me like that. I knew for sure then, I wanted him as more than a friend.

“Y/N,” he repeats my name back to me, his hand trailing down the length of the dress, his fingers grazing the lace of my bralette and the warmth of my skin. He settles his hand on my hips, the ones I always try to hide. But he grips it like it was worth holding onto.

I move my hand to his face, stroking his cheek. He tears his eyes away to finally look at me. And it’s like he’s snapped back to reality. He lets go of me so quickly, it feels wrong. I tighten the dress around me again, tying it as he picks up the things he knocked off the table getting away from me so quickly.

“I-didn’t mean to. I shouldn’t have...I should go.” Harry rushes out the door and I sit on the bed, forcing myself not to cry. One second I felt adored and the next, disgusted. What just happened between us and why did he leave like that?

The only thing left to do is stand, retie my dress properly, and go home. But I realise Harry’s car was my ride...and I would have to see him again. Maybe I could kill some time looking for James.

I leave the awful room and head to the other bedrooms, assuming James left Rick in one of them. They’re all locked. I head to the third floor and that’s where James is neatly stacking books against a bookshelf.

“James?” I whisper. He looks up and his face breaks into a smile. I feel guiltier than ever.

“Let’s go,” he grabs my hand and closes the door behind him. “He’s out, knocked down his bookshelf while he was struggling to break free.”

“He’s kind of like a child,” I comment and James laughs.

“What happened? I thought you were going to wait for me,” James pauses in the hall, pulling me to him. I ignore the guilt creeping in.

“Something came up, and I’m the stupid designated driver so I have to find Harry and force him home now.”

“Want help?” James asks and my heart skips a beat. But I accept his offer and we go hunting for him. We find May and him arguing in front of the pantry but it’s too loud to know what about. James taps Harry on the shoulder and when he looks up at James, his eyes slide to mine for a second. He looks almost scared. I clench my jaw, he should be scared.

“What’s up?” Harry asks slowly, realising I never told James anything. James and I weren’t even together.

“I wanted to go home. I’m driving you-“

“It’s okay I can drive him home,” May interrupts.

“Where am I supposed to put his car?” I ask. My flat complex didn’t have parking. She shrugs and James eyes me.

“Okay. I’ll just go home now,” Harry says.

“So you’re just leaving before we finish this? You can’t...” May’s voice gets drowned out by a cheer but Harry hears her plenty. He says something back and heads to the cooler for two beers.

“Thanks a lot Y/N,” May sneers before leaving. Harry joins us again and hands James his second beer.

“One for the road,” Harry says and finishes it right in front of us. I roll my eyes and begin walking out.

At the car Harry stumbles into the passenger and James gives me a sweet kiss goodbye. I can feel Harry’s eyes on us but I stretch the kiss out. We don’t talk as we begin driving, Harry texts away on his phone but soon enough he’s telling me he’s going to die and needed to throw up so I pull into a grocery parking lot as quick as I could and he barely makes it to a bush. I should’ve just let him do it in his beloved car.

He finds a water bottle in the backseat and drinks it. I didn’t even know if that was safe. When I don’t put the car in drive, he stares at me. I stare back.

“Are we going?” He asks.

“First we should talk about what happened.”

“Shit Y/N, it’s late let’s just go. Why does every woman want to talk tonight!”

“No, I’m not driving until we talk about what the fuck went down back there! You’re my best friend in the whole world Harry and that’s not what best friend’s do!” I turn the key and the ignition dies away leaving us in complete silence. He looks at me, I was dead serious.

“I don’t know what happened!” Harry was frustrated but I had the right to know why he did that.

“Why did you do that though?” My voice cracks and Harry looks pained to hear it. He scratches his head and looks out the window again, sighing and then fidgeting with his ring. I push him, “You came in and...then you left like you were like, disgusted with me. You didn’t even say anything! You made me feel-“

“No no wait,” Harry waves his hands. “I left because I realised I fucked up! I was disgusted with myself. Y/N you’re my best friend too and I just, I almost...” He doesn’t finish the sentence so I ask.

“Almost what?”

He doesn’t look at me so I push his shoulder and ask again. He hangs his head but I wait. Slowly, he looks at me again. He looks like I just told him his dog had died or his car just broke down and was unrepairable. I didn’t understand.

“I almost kissed you,” Harry says. I freeze, I was right. Even at the pool, he almost kissed me.

“You say it like it’s the worst thing in the world to happen,” I comment.

“Not kissing you, but losing you would be.”

“Why would you lose me?” I ask.

“I dunno? You don’t want to kiss me. Or I say the wrong thing and you break up with me and we can never be friends again. So many reasons.”

“Why have you never told me?”

“I don’t want to lose you!” He repeats. “And it always felt one-sided.”

“So why tonight?” I demand. I needed to know.

He rubs his neck before looking me up and down. I want to grab his sweater from the back but I force my hands not to fidget.

“I came in to check on you, I saw James leave and help the shitbag to his room. I would’ve just rolled him out the front door so he can wake up with...anyway. I came in and you were just laying there with your...dress open. And you look beautiful,” he looks at me when he says this. I feel faint with everything coming out of his mouth. “I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. I’ve seen you like that but that was different. And I realised you did that for James and I...wanted it to be me. And I was going to leave but you walked right up to me. My head was telling me to go but I couldn’t, you were like...it felt like slow motion.”

I knew what he was talking about. I couldn’t help myself either, it felt like we were going in slow motion and nothing else existed except the two of us. But I don’t say anything. He was with May—what else could I say?

I needed air.

I fumble with the door and step out onto the cool concrete, letting the cool October air clear my head. But aside from allowing me to breathe better it doesn’t do much else. I lean my back again the car and just close my eyes, breathe in, breathe out.

I knew how I felt about Harry now, he must have felt that way before I knew how I felt or he wouldn’t have almost kissed me in the pool. But why did he make May his girlfriend, he obviously liked her with how he talked about her. He forgot me every time he was with her.

“Y/N,” Harry must have gotten out of the car because he stands in front of me.

“If you had feelings for me or whatever, why are you with May?” I don’t let him say whatever he was going to. I needed to know. He looks uncomfortable as he responds.

“I said I didn’t want to lose you, I know May had a crush on me for a while. She was nice so I gave it a shot. I thought if I could date someone that wasn’t you I could get over you. I just thought it was one-sided. And I saw you with James that day...I thought you two were together too. That we would be okay in the end.”

“We’re not,” I say. “We’re complicated now.”

“But is it the end?” Harry asks tentatively. I slouch against the car and bite my lip, it wasn’t. But it was confusing as hell. Especially for my feelings.

“What were you and May arguing about today?” I want to know. If we were saying the truth I wanted him to know at least. May wasn’t who he thought she was.

“You,” he sighs. “She gave me this ultimatum.”

“Seriously?” I was shocked at her audacity. “Did you tell her about tonight?”

“No, but she could tell something happened. I told her I was going to check up on you. When I came back I couldn’t concentrate and it made her upset and she said it’s either her or you. That’s when you came down with James...”

“I rescued him from Rick’s room. To say I was leaving and he helped me find you,” I don’t know why I was explaining myself but I felt like I had to.

“You look...beautiful by the way. Nothing about you is disgusting,” Harry says seriously.

“Not even when I fart at sleepovers?” I reference the times either of us has passed out after a party at each other’s. He complained about me a lot. But it breaks the tension a little and Harry laughs, looking like himself a little more.

“Fine you’re a little disgusting then,” Harry moves closer to me, standing right in front of me and I have nowhere to go with the car behind me. “But you don’t always have to hide away, you are beautiful.”

Tears spring to my eyes without meaning to and I blink them away. Harry notices though. He puts his hand on the window beside me and leans on it. I glance at it, then at him. He’s staring again.

“What’s May been saying?” I bring her up again, hoping Harry wasn’t trying to kiss me while he still had a girlfriend, after everything he said.

“A lot of bitching,” he looks fed up. “And we’re over.”

“Really? She broke up with you?”

“Because I left with you,” Harry looks annoyed.

“But I drove your car,” I state the obvious.

“She’s insecure about us being friends.”

“Well...doesn’t she kind of have a reason to?” I ask. I’m nervous, if Harry was technically not with May, there was nothing stopping us from...

“It’s not like we’ve actually done anything,” Harry shrugs, the truth of the statement shrinking like the distance between us.

“No, we’ve only kept it PG,” I joke again, my nerves getting the best of me.

“Exactly...” Harry’s sentence trails off as he leans in closer. My world narrows down to just Harry in front of me, my best friend, who I also loved more than a best friend. About to kiss me.

His other hand comes up to cup my face, every brush of his thumb sending flashes through my body. But he continues to just hover over me, looking conflicted.

“Are we going to move past PG?“ I start to joke just as Harry sighs and breaks away. The October air doesn’t feel as refreshing as it rushes back, filling the space between us.

“I can’t,” Harry runs his hands through his hair. “I can’t!”

“Are you serious?” I ask. He just confessed how he felt and got me hot and bothered. And now he’s saying he can’t? “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know!” Harry shouts back while he walks in a circle. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing!”

“So you just lead me on and leave me hanging?” I shove his chest. “You’re so scared of losing me well you’re already done a great job Styles! And you haven’t even kissed me yet you coward!”

“Y/N I’m sorry!” Harry grabs my arms and holds them. “I don’t want to screw anything u-“

“You’ve already screwed everything up!” I yank my hands from him and head back to the car. Stupid Harry! If it weren’t for him I would’ve been in a bedroom with James, having the best night of my life. “I hate you!” I shout before getting behind the wheel and slamming his door shut. Damn his car too.

Harry doesn’t come back to the car, after a while I glance outside and he’s sitting on the pavement with his head in his hands. I wait a moment longer but he stays in the same spot. I roll down the window and shout out for him.

“I’d like to go home to my bed if you’re done throwing your pity...”

My words trail off. Harry’s face is streaked with tears as he gets himself up. He disappears as he makes his way around to his side. I’d never seen Harry cry. Not since we were 11 or 12 and his date for the dance ditched him for the goalie on his team. Now I was the reason he was crying, not that I’d ditched him.

“Are we going home?” Harry asks when I don’t start the car. I want to say something to him but I don’t know what. So I start the car and park at his house. I don’t want him to offer to walk me the 15 minutes back to mine like usual but before I even step off his driveway he steps in front of me.

“I’m walking you home,” his voice is stuffy. He holds out a sweater he must have grabbed from the back. It was cold so I take it. I don’t fight him, I just start walking and he trails behind. When we get to my building he finally talks. “I’m sorry for screwing everything up Y/N. I wish tonight never happened.”

“You took the lead tonight, twice, and you lead us nowhere. You didn’t screw everything up Harry, you made a-a train wreck!”

“I know,” he says so quietly, it’s almost a whisper. And like a candle in the wind my anger’s snuffed out.

I reach for my best friend and pull him into a hug. “I’m the one that should be crying. I hate you for making me feel bad.”

“I’m not trying to,” he says into my neck.

“What do we do?” I pull away. “Where does this leave us?”

“We’re still best friends?” Harry tries.

“Yeah,” it was complicated. But best friends was our normal. We both liked each other as more, and we knew that. Maybe we could become a little more once Harry got used to the idea that he was stuck with me forever. But the one thing I knew for sure was I wanted him in my life. So friends would have to do. “Best friends plus a little extra.”

Harry rolls his eyes at my Office reference but shakes his head, “No, that makes it complicated. Just best friends.”

“Harry,” I step into his space, only inches between us. “We are complicated.”

“Y/N,” he turns his cheek, and clasps his hands behind his back as soon as I get close.

“Hey,” I say. How could we be best friends if he couldn’t even look at me this close? If he had to hide his hands so he wouldn’t touch me? “Harry look at me.”

“I’m good,” Harry sighs, still turned away.

“Harry Styles,” I hold his face and turn it to me. “What are you so afraid of?”

He open his mouth to say something then shuts it, clenching his jaw. But then, in the blink of an eye all the tension in his body dissappears as he makes up his mind; he grabs my face with both hands and kisses me. When his lips touch mine, it feels like an electric rod had replaced my spine. I was entirely nerve endings and pure heat. I never knew a kiss could feel so charged.

It was all I ever wanted, I think as I tangle my fingers into his curls. This was all I ever wanted.

“Come up,” I mumble against his mouth. “My parents will just think you’re crashing.”

“What?” It seems he’s just as scatterbrained as he slows down the kissing to look at me. I can’t help but smile at his dazed expression. “Why are you smiling like that?”

“I’m just happy,” I say honestly. “Being here. With you.”

Harry laughs, a sharp echo into the night. “Say that again but louder.”

“Don’t get so cocky,” I say but I’m grinning too hard to mean it. We stand there grinning at each other like idiots until I ask again, “Come up?”

“I...shouldn’t.” Harry’s smile dims. “I don’t want to move so fast-“

“We can just sleep.” I just wanted him close to me, even if we just slept. I didn’t know how right this felt until now. And now that I knew, I didn’t want to let go.

“I don’t know if I’ll just sleep if I go up,” Harry confesses.

“I wouldn’t mind.”

He looks me over and shakes his head, “Jesus Y/N. It’s killing me to say no to you looking like that but I have to. I don’t want to...”

The sentence hovers unfinished. I was getting cold and if Harry wasn’t coming up I decide to just call it a night. We had the rest of forever to catch up.

“Fine, I’ll go to sleep by myself.”

“As you should,” Harry pulls me in and kisses my forehead. “Goodnight love.”

“Love?” I can’t help but feel the warm gushy cliche feelings at being called love.

“Would you still prefer best friend?” He asks, walking backwards. He couldn’t get away fast enough apparently.

“Plus a little extra!” I blow him a kiss and skip up to my building. “Night!”

———————

Tags (I’ve never done tags idk if this is how it’s done but ty anyway 🥰): @ghostykayla

#harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #writingsfromhome #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #YA Harry styles #don’t get comfortable yet yall #i didn’t take this angst for no reason

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too--many--otps · 4 years

Text

sunshine

“When’d you know?” Daryl asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

Rick looked over at Daryl, confused by the vague question.

“When did I know what?”

Daryl wasn’t meeting his eyes. He looked - strangely shy, for some reason, and it made Rick’s heart ache.

Daryl leaned back against the wall, clearly trying to look casual but missing it by a long shot.

“When’d you know how you felt about me?”

Oh.

Rick barely had to think about it. He hadn’t forgotten.

“Depends,” he said, mimicking Daryl’s position. “When did I know I was attracted to you, or when did I know I was in love with you?”

Daryl finally glanced over at him, seeming taken aback by the question.

“Both?” he said after a beat, looking even more hesitant than before.

Rick pretended that he was thinking for a moment, despite remembering both times vividly.

“I’ll start with the ladder first, since it’s less - embarrassing.”

That definitely caught Daryl’s attention, and he looked intrigued for a brief second before he steeled his expression.

Rick focused on the warmth of Daryl pressed against his side, and he took a steadying breath before he answered. Putting aside the realization, the memory wasn’t a pleasant one for either of them.

He looked down at his feet. “It was that first day with Negan. When you’d gotten taken away by the Saviors.” He could feel Daryl stiffen beside him, and Rick immediately felt guilty for bringing up, but he couldn’t stop now.

“It’s not exactly something I like rememberin’, but - I can’t forget. I still think about it sometimes.” He ran his hands across his face, shoving away the feelings of pain and fear that the memory always brought back.

“The second they dragged you onto that truck, I thought to myself, ‘I can’t do this without him.’ It felt like a part of me was getting ripped away.” He swallowed, trying to keep his emotions in check.

“And I just - I knew, right then. I knew that I felt much more than just - attraction, or companionship. I loved you long before that moment, but I hadn’t truly realized it ‘till then.”

A heavy silence settled between them, and Rick pretended not to notice the emotions passing over Daryl’s face. He was sure his own expression was the same.

For a moment, Rick wondered if he shouldn’t have told Daryl. He could’ve come up with something else instead, a memory that was less painful. It would’ve been easy enough.

But he couldn’t lie to Daryl. Especially about this.

About a minute went by, and Daryl seemed to compose himself, clearing his throat.

“And the embarrassin’ one?” His voice was slightly hoarse, but Rick didn’t point it out.

He sighed quietly, relieved to be on a lighter subject.

He finally looked over at Daryl, trying to figure out how to tell him in a way that wouldn’t make himself seem completely ridiculous.

“Alright. You might’ve forgotten about this, because it wasn’t exactly memorable, but...” he trailed off, preparing himself for the slight humiliation he was bound to feel.

“We were fighting one time, at the prison. Well, not really fighting, but we were bickering about somethin’ stupid. Can’t remember why.” He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. He wasn’t sure why he bothered— Daryl could always see right through him.

“I said something that you didn’t like. Not sure what. You said something back, and, uh...” Rick hesitated, glancing away.

“You called me sunshine?” And there it was. “Not in a nice way, but...” He shrugged again, smiling sheepishly.

He risked a glance at Daryl. He looked bemused, seeming like he was trying to remember.

His expression cleared a moment later. “Yeah. I remember that. You said somethin’ that pissed me off, ‘nd I said to ‘Fuck off, sunshine.’” Daryl frowned. “The hell’s that got to do with-“ He cut off as it dawned on him, and Rick mentally braced himself.

“Wait.” Daryl turned to face Rick fully, his expression a mixture of incredulousness and genuine amusement. “Sunshine? Really?” His eyebrows were raised high enough to be hidden by his bangs.

Rick’s smile widened at the reaction, and he could feel his face heating up, which he was certain that Daryl would notice. Damn it.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Rick replied, rolling his eyes. “Go ahead and make fun of me. I have it comin’.”

Daryl shook his head, looking like he was holding back a smile.

“Damn right you do. Should’ve known it’d be somethin’ like that.” Daryl leaned back against the wall again and casually wrapped an arm around Rick’s waist, pulling him against his side, and Rick laid his own arm across Daryl’s shoulders without thinking. He felt the familiar sensation of warmth in his chest that he always got when Daryl actually initiated physical contact.

They stood in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, feeling the breeze against their skin and listening to the birds sing, a rare sound of life that couldn’t be taken for granted. Rick let all of his worries drift away for a moment, allowing them both to relax. He could never be sure when they’d get another chance to, in this world.

“Sunshine, huh?” Daryl said eventually, his voice teasing. His lips quirked up into a small smile. “That what you want me to call you now?”

Rick was about to reply, but he paused, getting an absolutely fantastic idea.

“Nah. I’m no sunshine.” He shrugged with fake casualness. He waited a moment, before looking over at Daryl with a grin.

“That might fit you better than it would me, now that I think about it.”

Daryl froze, and his expression morphed into something surprised and almost fearful. Rick had to hold back a laugh.

“No.” Daryl attempted to pull away, but Rick held him closer, having expected this reaction. “Not a chance. Don’t even think about it.”

Rick blinked at him innocently. “Why not?”

Daryl glared at him halfheartedly. “I ain’t into that - sappy nicknamin’ bullshit. That ain’t me.”

Rick put on a show of looking a bit disappointed at the response, as if he’d expected anything different.

He pretended to think for a moment, and nodded solemnly. “Okay.”

Daryl narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the easy acceptance, clearly having expected Rick to put up a fight. Rick simply smiled, leaning in to briefly kiss him before pulling away.

He squeezed his shoulder once before stepping past him, not bothering to look back. He’d promised Carol that he’d pick up Judith before nightfall to relieve her of her babysitting duties, and the sun was already low on the horizon.

He made sure that he was still within hearing distance of Daryl, and his smile didn’t falter.

“Whatever you say, Sunshine.”

#rickyl #daryl dixon #rick grimes #the walking dead #twd #i wrote this at like 3:00 AM because i was bored #i’m sorry #this is awful #fanfiction #one shot #fanfic #rwg #rwgroup #rickyl writers group

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pikemoreno · 4 years

Text

if you ever wanna be in love

Chapter II: Coincidences

a/n: the response to what i believe will be the slowest chapter in the whole series was honestly kind of overwhelming? like you guys were into it and it’s only going up from here folks!!

taglist is open if you’d like to be added. sorry if you asked and i missed it or forgot. please just ask again if you aren’t on there and would like to be. :’)

pairing: marcus pike x f!reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings: none, and i don’t expect there to really be any serious ones in upcoming chapters either. this is just fun.

You were really starting to regret your life choices.

Even the beginnings of autumn in Austin were hot as hell. It was only maybe 90 degrees but there was no breeze and the sun was shining ruthlessly on the asphalt, making it feel about 10 degrees hotter. And all of that was then made complete with just a dash of humidity. Basically: you were dying. You probably should’ve considered that before deciding to walk to Rick’s Diner from Wendy’s apartment, but when the pancakes call, you two must answer. And why risk losing your parking spot in the meager guest parking area when you could just walk? It’s only a couple of streets away.

Famous last words. The Austin sun, though setting, still felt like it was frying you to your bones and the air conditioning of the little diner only brought minor relief as you finally reached the stool-lined counter to ask for your to-go order. They didn’t have it quite ready yet due to the dinner rush, but it was unadulterated bliss to hear that you didn’t have to brave the heat again quite yet. A vaguely familiar voice reached your ears as you moved away from the counter.

“Fancy meeting you here, Jewels.”

Pike? From the break room yesterday? You spun around to find none other than the very same. Though his work suit was replaced with a more casual look of a casual well-fit grey shirt and jeans, he was still managing to look more put together than you felt in athletic shirts and a t-shirt. Girls night and the weather called for it, but if you knew you were going to be seeing a coworker...

“Art Squad,” you laughed, leaning against the wall next to him. “What brings you here?”

“Best pancakes in the city. What about you? Coffee?”

“Ha-ha. No, girl’s night with Wendy. Gonna get her mind off of everything with what are absolutely the best pancakes in the city,” you agreed.

“A woman of taste.” His order came up and he took it, taking a moment to talk with the server across the counter. You heard him address him by name.

He must come here a lot.

You couldn’t blame him. It was clean, the service was amazing, the food was great, and it was fun-- with nostalgic decor that didn’t sway towards cheesiness.

Marcus left the counter with his takeout bag, but he didn’t leave with it, as expected. Instead he came back to stand beside you.

“Maybe I should get some for Adrian too. These pancakes are magical,” he commented, continuing your previous conversation.

“Exactly.”

“I just wish I could do more for him. Coffee and pancakes aren’t exactly a permanent fix.”

“Agreed. I’m on the lookout for a rebound for Wendy. Maybe you should consider it too. Not a permanent fix but-- better.”

It hit you all at once.

Two single people recently in need of a rebound that work in the same building?

That couldn’t be coincidence.

But, no, that was a crazy idea. There was nothing that actually connected them. Did they have anything in common other than getting their hearts ripped out and working for the FBI? Doubtful. Was that enough for a stable relationship? God, no. Was that enough to bring them together long enough for a hook-up and getting them over their exes?

Maybe.

Your name being called interrupted your thoughts and, pancakes in hand, you and Marcus walked back out into the Austin heat. You had no idea how he was managing in jeans, though you guessed it helped that he was probably smart enough to drive with the protection of A/C.

“Well, see you around,” you nodded to him, ignoring the nagging in the back of your head to tell him about your scheme. It was silly. You turned left to walk towards Wendy’s place.

“Where are you going?” he calls after you; you turn. “Did you not--?” he gestures to the parking lot on his right.

“Walked here.”

“Do you like causing yourself pain?”

“Sometimes.” He gave you a look. “I’m kidding. It’s not that bad.”

“Yeah, right. Let me drive you.” You considered a moment. There wasn’t any harm in accepting the ride, you guessed, though you didn’t actually know him. He could actually be a murderer who’s just trying to get you to a secondary location. You’d seen John Mulaney. You knew what that meant.

But maybe it was worth a try for the pancakes.

Just for the pancakes-- for their safety.

“Sure, why not.”

This couldn’t be coincidence either. Time to scheme.

“So, about Adrian,” you began. The look he gave you was quizzical. “How old is he?”

“33?”

“Would he be interested in a 32 year old beautiful, badass goddess of an FBI Supervisory Special Agent?” He raises an eyebrow as you get in his car.

“Is that Wendy?”

“Yes. Turn left up here.” He did.

“I know what you’re thinking. No, we’re not going to--”

“But think about it!”

“I am. Meddling? That always works.” His tone was drowning in sarcasm.

“Sure it does. Adrian’s work is suffering, right? Driving you crazy? Wendy’s driving me crazy. They belong together.”

“I don’t think that’s a great quality to base a relationship off of.”

“Oh, this is her building here.” He pulled over and you continued, unbuckling your seatbelt “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. Surely we can get them together long enough to at least get them off our backs.”

“Absolutely not. I’m not getting involved in Adrian’s love life.”

“Alright, fine. If you never see me again. Wendy finally killed me.” He rolled his eyes. “Thanks for the ride, Art Squad.”

“See you around, Jewels.”

“Don’t be so sure!” you called back as you walked up to the front of Wendy’s apartment.

Arriving back to Wendy’s living room had her asking you how you got back so soon as she gratefully took out her takeout container of pancakes.

“Hitched a ride,” you shrugged in reply, sitting cross-legged on the other end of her couch.

“Oh? With who?” There were approximately eight extra “O’s” attached at the end of the question.

“A guy from work.”

“From work, hmm?” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“Not like that.”

“Humor me. Someone from our team?”

“Oh, no. Definitely not. Art Squad.” Wendy widened her eyes, tilting her head at you. “It’s nothing Wendy, honestly.”

“How do you know him?” But the question didn’t come out casually. This was an interrogation. You sighed.

“I don’t, really,” you diverted the conversation digging into your take-out container. “And why are you interrogating me, hmm? I thought we were supposed to be laughing at reality shows and stuffing our faces in pancakes here and forgetting all about this kind of shit.”

“No no no. When my long-time single work friend mentions a secret guy, I ask questions.”

“Hey, I just went on a date two weeks ago! Don’t give me any of that always single crap. I get around.”

“Yeah, you went on one date. And then you came back an hour later saying he was boring and you never contacted him again. And when was the last time before that?”

“Fine, fine. I get it. But this isn’t some ‘secret guy,’” you put down your fork just to give the phrase some emphatic air quotes. “I just ran into him yesterday at the office and then today at Rick’s. That’s it.”

“For now,” she whispered devilishly. You pointed your fork at her, feigning a threat.

“I do not need a man, Wendy Harrod. I have work and I have you.”

“I know you don’t. I just wanna see you happy.” You crossed your arms.

“I am happy. Hey, this night is supposed to be about you and your man troubles. Turn on 90 Day Fiance. Stop talking about me.”

You were telling the truth. Most of it. You felt alright by yourself. You did have work, though it was a dead-end until you managed to move out of the Austin field office. It had been you and Wendy up for a promotion a couple years ago and she received it. You knew the likelihood of her leaving before retirement was minuscule, which left you stuck in your current position until your own retirement. Unless you left. Not an option. You couldn’t leave Wendy scrambling for someone to replace you. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but you had it. It was yours. And you… Liked it well enough.

It was fine. What more could you want?

***

Monday mornings were hard on anyone: the start of another week, the stack of work that Friday-you left for Monday-you staring you in the face. For Marcus it brought the wondering if this could be the week that Adrian was back to himself.

It took all of ten minutes in the office to see that wouldn’t be the case.

Adrian’s pile of work had hardly decreased in height from the last time Marcus saw it on Friday morning. He watched for a moment to see how it was going. Adrian’s pen moved slowly across the page as he followed the words printed on it, occasionally making a mark or circling a section. He was working, but not to his best. It was written on his face and in his body language: hunched over at his desk, his chin resting resting heavily in the hand that wasn’t making lethargic movements over the paper. It just wasn’t the spunky Adrian that loved his job and his co-workers. He was always the hardest worker, and on the rare occasions that Adrian wasn’t working it was because he was too caught up in being a social butterfly. This side of him was frighteningly unprecedented.

“How’re you doing Adrian?” Marcus finally spoke.

Adrian made a noncommittal noise in response, his gaze fixated entirely somewhere above the page, but not quite on him.

“That good, huh?”

Another grunt.

Marcus pulled a rolling chair up to the other side of Adrian’s desk, facing him, studying him. He thought of your proposition from days before. It was kind of a crazy idea. But it might just be crazy enough to work. It wouldn’t be a permanent fix but... Better. Just as you’d said. He was getting about that desperate. Three weeks without Adrian was bad enough for team morale. Another week of this? Maybe more? The very walls of the sixth floor would be turning dull and grey. He still didn’t love the idea, but he hadn’t exactly come up with anything better. Could he bring it up to Adrian? Was it better if they didn’t know they were being set up? He started small.

“Adrian, have you considered maybe, I don’t know, trying to date again soon? Just to get your mind off of… That.”

Adrian shrugged, “Maybe. I’d have to find someone I was interested in. But I just don't think I'll find that anytime soon. I’ll just keep comparing them to Sam.”

Marcus hummed in thought, watching the defeat on Adrian’s face. “Well, I’ll keep my eye out,” he promised loosely as he rolled the rolling chair back away from the desk.

He had to find you.

He quickly announced he was taking a long lunch and headed straight to the elevator, thankful no one followed him to see him go up to the seventh floor instead of down to the first. He poked around offices and desks, ignoring the questioning glances, looking for you or any sign of where your workspace might be. He found you in the seventh floor breakroom, starting into what looked like an extremely mediocre lunch.

He sat directly across from you and watched as you slowly looked up to find the source of the noise, suddenly feeling that he might’ve overstepped and you might not want to disturbed. That was quickly replaced by the odd surge of pride when you looked relieved to see him. You smiled at him and called him Art Squad.

“What brings you to the seventh floor? We still don’t have any coffee,” you huffed.

“I’m in.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I’m in. Let’s set them up.” Your expression was nothing short of cocky as you leaned back in your chair.

“Oh? Coming crawling back so soon? Adrian getting the best of you?”

“Yeah, yeah. Rub it in. So what do we do?”

“Well,�� you laid down your fork, “The way I see it. We shouldn’t tell them. They’re having a tough time and feeling like they’re only getting a date from their friends’ pity party would make it worse. They need this to feel natural, like it was their idea and they’re recovering. It’ll give them confidence.”

“So we... What?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t think I’d get this far.” He rolled his eyes.

“You don’t even have a plan and you were trying to convince me to help you?”

“Just let me think about it, alright?”

“Alright. Let’s drive and think. Up for a long lunch break?”

“I guess? But I have,” you looked to your sad little lunch in front of you. When you met his eyes again, he simply raised an eyebrow.

You’re really gonna eat that?

“Rick’s?”

“Rick’s.”

forever taglist: @acomplicatedprofession @hdlynn @makaela27 @space-floozy @catfishingmorales @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @princessbatears @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @findhimfives

series taglist: @whiskeyslasso @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @dindjarindiaries @absurdthirst @roxypeanut @fioccodineveautunnale

#bri writes #iyewbil #marcus pike x reader

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bidaryl · 4 years

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okay so u know those AUs where its like……rick wakes up from his coma and its the start of the apocalypse all over again after living through a fair chunk of it!! and its like him correcting mistakes and getting his second chance and shit OR the version where they ALL suddenly just wake up one day back in the modern world zombie free and it was all a dream but they all collectively had it so they find each other and meet up????? thats neat and all and i will read those fics till the day i die but u know what i have not seen and i rly wanna like. cry over?

daryl.

daryl waking up at the start of the end of the world. okay i haven’t put much thought into pre-rick era so like maybe just before rick comes in? maybe when merle and the crew leave for the city???? and its like a post-negan daryl thats waking up here. mayhaps the night glenn d*es and daryl gets taken? OR EVEN better maybe when jesus rescues daryl and its when daryl finally falls asleep for the first time in months on an actual pillow surrounded by certain members of his found family and then he just????? wakes up!!

he wakes up and he’s at the fcking quarry. his bitchass loudmouth brothers nowhere in sight cos as daryl figures out later, merle left the previous day. its the big reset button that everyone kinda wishes they had because they’ve all lost so much over the past 2-3 years but like… never though it could happen.

or! and i haven’t actually seen past carl dying so i’m not positive about things but hmmm what about a version when when rick ~dies. the bridge explodes. rick, for all intents and purposes of the show, /is DeAd/. and daryls a fucking mess becos that was on him and maggie and idk who else was involved in that plot or even if thats actually what happened. but from what ive gathered rick and daryl were kinda on the outs with the negan shit and that bridge scene could’ve been avoided. if things had just gone a bit differently. if they could go back in time just for a second! just one more chance! one more shot at things going differently and daryl could totally fix everything. then the next day daryls waking up at the quarry.

ugh cos THINK about it!! quarry era daryl and saviour/negan+ era daryl are so different? like the heart of him is the same but they all barely know each other at the start and daryls so angry and skittish and runs on fight or flight mode but alexandria/saviour/negan era daryl has like……bleed for these people? provided food and water for these people? led these people to safety? put his life on the line on several occasions for these people? made some of these people smile and laugh by just existing? stepped in as leader when rick has his moments? or like co leader with michonne & co.?

like would he tell anyone?? would he speak up more and try lead them to the farm cos that was a good move they did before? does he keep up pretences and chuck a tantrum over the crew not returning with merle or does he like. go ‘okay.’ and everyones like what the actual fuck. does he go into the prison and head for the cafeteria straight away to get the remaining prisoners out and kill that one bitch that fucks shit up for them??

he absofuckinglutely saves sophia. jumps that fucking guardrail before rick can even get out from under the car properly. carol literally not letting sophia out of her sight for days after daryl and rick and sophia all return like 2 hrs later, wet and covered in dirt and some blood but safe.

then!! if he did tell someone, who would it be?????? rick?? carol?? like how would that even go down. would he tell them maybe later on? prison era maybe. when michonne finally comes and they’re all debating whether to let her in or let her fuck off and stuff and daryls like wow i cant take this anymore rick that is ur future WIFE man. patch up her fucking leg.

or maybe carol. when they’re on watch together and carol casually mentions that daryl was over and into the woods, right on sophias heels, before people even realised which direction she went. how rick mentioned once to her that daryl seemed to know exactly where to find her. even picked up her doll without even seeming to stop. just seemed to know exactly what was happening. daryl just shrugging.

also side note. we, and daryl, do NOT know a butterfly effect. absolutely no ‘oh he saved xoxo and that means them and 2 others are gonna die!’ plots. nope. no way. this is the do-over of all do-overs. a one time fix it and fix it for the better.

THAT ALL BEING SAID this post is me being like hey what if daryl got a second chance whatever but no! what this post is truly about at its core is: IMAGINE a daryl thats lived….lets go with the ricks just died version. daryls lived that long and lost that many members of his family.

and then he hasn’t.

imagine daryl seeing beth for the first time again. the last time he saw her, he was carrying out her dead body to her sobbing sister. then they’re all at the farm again and she’s theres. alive and well and still young and bright and smiling. ‘you’re gonna miss me so bad when i’m gone’ he fucking did. he missed her so fucking much. he like. physically stops himself from like just going up and grabbing her and hugging the shit out of her.

daryl seeing sophia grow up? seeing carol become that mum. the mum that she always wanted to be and become still the strongest fucking women daryl had ever met but also like……..her and sophia. every time he sees them together he just wants to cry. carol deserves this so fucking bad. after everything, if he could save nothing else. he can make peace with himself knowing he gave carol this. this time with her daughter that she got robbed of.

daryl seeing glenn, alive, so so so young it seems compared to the the last glenn he saw. seeing him at camp at the quarry. seeing him talk to maggie for the first time. going from seeing him alive and so so so fucking real then his sleep being filled with nightmares of That night. how long after glenns death did daryl blame himself. would’ve put his head under the bat without hesitation if it meant that glenn could live and meet his son. him and maggie can run hilltop together. and now he’s real and he’s tangible and he’s funny and daryl spent so much of his time remembering glenn and feeling guilty that he never even really let himself miss him? but fuck he’s missed glenn so fucking much. missed having his back out on runs and glenn having his.

meeting aaron and eric again. going to that spag bowl dinner, eating the fuck out of it, just enjoying watching these two gays in love have dinner with each other at the end of the world. thinks about how they specifically invited him over for dinner. erics not gonna die this time round. they’re both gonna met gracie. bring her back number plates. help her put them on the wall, put them amongst all her drawings.

meeting merle again. knowing that merle died for him. them. the whole family. michone. idk if i want merle to live or die idk lets move on.

hershel lives!!!!!!!!! no beheading here!!!!!!!! fuck that!!!!!! fuck the governor!!!!! maggie and beth and glenn do not ever have to witness their father (in law) being killed in cold blood! no! hershel fits in v well with the alexandia community and thrives there. daryl makes damn sure of that.

daryl on that first day they meet jesus? him and rick getting in that car, rick singing that damn song, and daryl realising oh Shit! its that day already?? and then jesus, the fucker, does exactly what he does last time. and daryls just like.......so fucking happy that jesus is HERE and ALIVE and RIGHT THERE that he doesnt even get to outsmart him. show off. jesus pulls the firecracker stunt again and swipes ricks keys and when rick and him are stranded there and jesus has taken off with the truck, daryls just standing there like how the fuck did i let that happen. chases him around the field AGAIN! ‘duck!’ ‘thats my gun!’ AGAIN!!!!!! <3<3<3

the long road of the apocolypse is just as hard the second time as the first but everytime daryl looks around at his family and sees everyone they lost so tragically last time, alive, hes like..................a MESS. theyre alive! and safe! and hes so happy that his family is all together again.

#ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh #m #text

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countlessrealities · 2 years

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@moonglittering sent: 💋 for Rick! How smoochable is your muse?

Rick huffs a chuckle under his breath, smirking before taking a swing from his flask. Oh, he's going to have some fun with this one.

"P-Prince Moonshine? W-Well, damn. D-Depends if you're asking if he looks smoochable or-or if I'm supposed to consider how he kisses," he answers, tone slightly amused, dropping his elbow on the edge of the couch. "I-I won't lie, they is real fuckin' pretty. M-Maybe he exaggerates a little with the make-up at times, b-but so I did back when I had my band." A shrug. "I-I guess it's a common mistake."

He twirled the flask with his other hand, leaning it against his thigh. His expression is pensive, but there's not telling if he's truly pondering what he should say or if he's just pretending to for his own entertainment.

"J-Just looking at him, I-I'd say that he's an 8," he eventually resumes, in a casual tone, but the corner of his lips keeps twitching upwards. "H-He doesn't fit my favourite type, b-but I have eyes and decent tastes. S-Sue me."

He takes another swing of liquor and that's when he finally allows himself to openly smirk. "I-If I have to take his kissing skills into consideration...Eh, I-I'd give him a 7 to be generous. B-But it's mostly a 6. H-He makes up for it a little with enthusiasm, an-and that's something that I like in a partner, b-but he's fuckin' clumsy an-and tries too fuckin' hard. C-Can't relax for shit." He rolls his eyes. "H-He has better get in some practice, i-if he ever wanna find a stable partner. G-Good thing that he has run into someone w-who can teach him how it's done."

He's, of course, talking about himself. Is that an excuse to get more chances to kiss the younger man stupid and then make fun of him? Absolutely. But he dares anyone to call him out on that.

#[ ic :: c137 Rick ]#[ v. Forever a hundred years ; main verse :: c137 Rick ]#moonglittering #[[ damn Rick can you go ONE time without being a dick -facepalm- ]]#[[ he HAD to make fun of Vi even while he was delivering a compliment ]]#[[ well sort of xD ]]#[[ I guess he felt the need to balance it out or something -shrug- ]]

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dragonnan · 4 years

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16, 17 and 19 for the most recent ask thingy, should you feel the mood sway you. 😁

The mood will ALWAYS sway me lol!

16. Describe your WIP that currently has the highest word count.

Simon and Simon and Psych (Psych/Simon & Simon) Word count: 24,323

So this one, in spite of not being updated in YEARS, is a story I’m still absolutely on fire to resume because I’m just thrilled af about the concept. It’s a crossover between 2 series I love - Psych and Simon & Simon (an 80s Private Detective series). What excites me most about it was the reimagining of Simon & Simon for the modern era while still retaining all of the things that made the characters what they were.

A little back story on Simon & Simon as I feel more people will be less familiar with that series of the two. The series is about 2 brothers who decided to open a detective agency together after the younger brother, AJ (Andrew Jackson), left the larger detective agency where he had been working for several years.

AJ is blond, surfed a great deal as a younger man, attended law school, and was considered the “golden child” growing up somewhat sheltered and cherished and maybe a tad innocent of the world. When his brother went to Viet Nam, AJ took part in the peace protests - primarily because he was terrified for his brother and wanted to do anything he could to make the fighting stop. AJ tends to be the more mature of the brothers - nearly always wearing a suit and usually takes lead in dealing with clients (assuming Rick doesn’t interrupt him).

Rick, the older brother, left home after they father died and bounced around from various interests, including being a biker for a time, before going to Viet Nam. He would come back from the war with a boatload of PTSD and a very fierce drive to protect his younger brother (probably far more so than he’d even felt prior to Viet Nam but to be clear - Rick is VERY protective of AJ). All of that, however, might take the casual observer by surprise as Rick is incredibly irresponsible (on the surface) and nearly always in a good mood or quick with a joke. Just don’t threaten baby bro other their mother. Really, just do not.

So that’s a bit of backstory so I can mention my changes for the modern era. Instead of Viet Nam, Rick is now a veteran of Desert Storm. They now both carry cell phones instead of relying on pay phones or other land lines. They have a website. I’ve updated their cars. Before, AJ drove a red Camaro T Top so I changed that to a 2008 Chevy Corvette. Rick, in the series, drove a 1979 Dodge Power Wagon so that one... did not change lol! I seriously cannot picture Rick in any other vehicle.

So after ALL OF THAT there’s actually a story in progress...

The plot thus far is that the Simon brothers are in Santa Barbara because AJ is running in the annual Half Marathon (an actual one cause I do like to blend some real events with my fiction lol). While in town, Rick goes to run an errand - picking up an item his buddy Carlos had shipped but wasn’t able to pick up himself because Carlos is... sketchy (an actual character from the series that we hear about anecdotally from Rick). Meanwhile, Juliet and Lassiter are at the shipyards as well, having set up a sting on suspicion of drug activity. So, of course, when Rick goes to collect this item for Carlos, he ends up being stopped by the cops who confiscate the item after finding it filled with drugs and they arrest Rick. THIS, then, is how the crossover comes into play as Shawn, of course, horns in on the investigation and immediately suspects that Rick is being setup so he volunteers to help out the Simons. Various things happen which ultimately leads Shawn, Gus, and AJ back to the shipyards and a suspicious warehouse (aren’t ALL warehouses suspicious?) where suspicious men are rapidly emptying it of product. The 3 men get caught and are bundled off in the back of a suspicious vehicle to a suspicious location. At about this time Rick is let out on bail (thanks moooom....) and in a panic as he hasn’t heard from his brother. When he realizes AJ must be in trouble, he ends up tentatively joining up with Juliet and Lassiter who are trying to find Shawn. Nobody is entirely thrilled with being teamed up in either group...

And this is roughly where things stand after the last update!

So after I’ve subjected you to all of the above, how about a snippet from chapter 1?

___

Shawn Spencer spun slowly in his father's chair – maintaining just enough speed to make a full revolution before kicking himself into another circuit. Typically he enjoyed his time at the station, provided he wasn't behind bars or being subjected to an interrogation. Okay, scratch that. He did enjoy an interrogation provided his hot pants girlfriend with a personal pair of handcuffs was the one dressing him down. He leered. He didn't even have to try to make that sound dirty.

Right. Back on the subject at hand. Naughty cop Jules would, sadly, have to wait until they could have some private time.

If they could have some private time. Of course, the way things were going lately...

And that brought him back full circle to his original beef.

Dad was being cagey. Like, Nick Cagey complete with diminished mane and sneaky covertness. Sure, he pretended he wasn't being covert but his dad sucked almost as bad as Lassie when he tried to fake acting casual. He was way too sour in the shorts to pull off that level of none chalice.

Like now, the old man was going for coffee. Like anybody with half a badge couldn't see right through that act. Shawn pulled together a mild sneer as his dad returned to his desk.

“Really? You put sugar in that too?”

His dad didn't look at him as he set his coffee on the desk. “Stop glaring at me. And get the hell out of my chair!”

Shawn didn't budge. “I am on to you.” He enunciated with immaculate exaggeration.

“The only thing you're on is my chair. And too many Pop Rocks; I thought Gus had cut you back to one pack a day.”

“I'm allowed two packs on the weekend.”

“It's Wednesday, kiddo. Maybe it's time you invested in a calendar.”

“Well maybe it's time you invested in hair plugs!” Shawn paused as his father crossed his arms. The pointing hand dropping back to his lap. “Too Terence Stamp? Sorry, I was caught up in the moment.”

“What do you want, Shawn?” Giving up on patience, Henry opted for shoving his son until he toppled out of the chair. Ignoring the yelp when Shawn flopped to the tile, he scooted closer to the desk so he could pull up the report he'd been working on. Fingers just coming to rest on his keyboard, he scowled at the active game of Pitfall taking up his screen. He tapped a button but rather than taking him back to the SBPD mainframe, it caused the character to jump into the green shapes he assumed were meant to be alligators. Behind him, Shawn gasped.

“You just killed my last guy!”

“Be grateful that's all I've killed.” Slapping a few more keys he finally found the right combination to get back to his report.

Still sitting on the floor, Shawn drew up his knees up and propped his chin on both fists. Not even managing to type a single word, Henry sighed and swiveled towards his moping son.

“What, Shawn?”

Now that he had the desired attention, Shawn pushed his lower lip out the tiniest bit. “Jules is busy and she said I can't help with the stakeout cause it's “super stupid important, Shawn” and Gus won't let me borrow the blueberry so I can follow her cause deep down inside I know she wants me to help cause, please, like I don't always make a stakeout better – I mean, who else is going to remember to bring an extra container of cheese dip for the nachos because one cup is just never enough and believe you me you do not want to short cheese a guy packing tear gas...”

Henry held up a hand to cut off the ramble that could easily go on another five minutes. With his other hand he rubbed at his aching eyes. Of course Shawn would find out about the sting. However, Chief Vick had been adamant about keeping him out of it. Henry had actually lobbied for including his son on the details – the memory of the last big operation that had temporarily cost him his job was not an easily healing wound. Rather than even attempt reconstructing the word barrage of bitching, Henry latched on to the least pointless detail.

“Where is Gus anyhow? I thought you two left an hour ago for dinner.”

Shawn shrugged. “I don't know for certain... I mean, by now he could be anywhere. He's always expressed an interest in touring with Alicia Keys...”

“Shawn.”

“We went to Taco Louie's and he insisted on the deep fried beef and bean mini burrito...”

Henry raised his hand again. Enough said.

“Well whatever you were thinking, I'm still not talking the Chief out of her decision. You're bored? How about you work on the burglary case I gave you.”

“Daaaad... the Redbox robberies?” Groaning, Shawn flopped on his back and sprawled dramatically. Officers passing back and forth shot glances at the display and Henry rubbed his face in embarrassment.

“Dammit, Shawn, get off the floor! You look like an idiot!”

Shawn sat up but didn't stand. Nor was he ready to let go of his latest complaint.

“Come on! Dad, Redbox? That is so... not sexy!”

17. Describe a fic that is still in the ‘ideas’ stage.

This one is an Iron Man character exploration regarding Tony’s relationship with Obie and that, with hindsight, he realizes Obie had been grooming him. It will never cross that crucial line but the potential leaves Tony reeling. This will be in the same universe as another short fic titled “Simple Math”. Here’s the bit of writing I’d put together so far:

_____

He'd thought it was bonding; at the time. His dad had never been one for just hanging out; shooting the shit; telling tales out of school. No, Pops, when he bothered to interact, led with questions. “You keeping your grades up?” “You still seeing that floozy?” “When are you going to pull your head out of your ass and grow the hell up?” “You do realize it's my name you're disgracing every time you go on a bender?”

With Obie it was just, easy. Obie might ask about school but it was always with approval and pride. He would discuss Tony's conquests as though Tony had climbed Kilimanjaro wearing nothing but underwear and a cape.

Obie was there when his father wasn't. Which meant that Obie was always there. The first time he got astoundingly drunk on his father's scotch, Obie was the one to help him hunch over the toilet and vomit expensive, aged booze into the toilet. Obie was also the one to replace the depleted bottle to keep Howard in the dark. For a fourteen year old kid still trying to gain his dad's favor, that had meant everything.

He saw his first porn with Obie; sex education ala Traci Lords, three months shy of his fifteenth birthday. That was the same time he was introduced to weed. Obie had cautioned him to use it sparingly; didn't want to fry that genius brain, he'd say, and ruffle his hair. The porn had made him uncomfortable. Obie had turned it off and told him they could watch whatever Tony wanted. They'd ended up changing the station to Knight Rider; smoking and munching Cheetos and laughing over their orange fingers.

It was Obie who was there, arm around his shoulders, after his parents died. He desperately didn't want to sob in front of the man. Things were so complicated with his dad that all he felt was blinding guilt... as though some part of him had caused this. But Obie had filled him with bourbon until the emotions got soft around the edges and he'd sat beside the older man, head tipping gradually to the right until he was held up by Obie's bicep. Obie had just slung and arm around him and let Tony pass out while he rubbed a broad hand up and down his arm.

It was strange, now, looking back with adult perspective. A perspective that included Afghanistan and his intended execution and Obie's arm around his shoulders while he talked about legacy and responsibility while Tony's lungs slowly seized. He'd taken the time to sit there – arm around Tony's shoulders while one broad hand traveled up and down Tony's bicep – just like when he was a kid and Obie was the whole world.

He'd tried to remember if it had felt so tainted... at the time. Or if he'd always believed it was love.

Obie had never quite crossed that line. Though hindsight offered a peek into that possibility with enough clarity Tony had fought with his cramping gut for nearly thirty minutes. He'd staved off vomiting though he was fairly certain his dignity had still been in tatters what with Bruce wandering in on his misery.

19. What’s your favorite character headcanon?

Gosh... It’s funny that when asked the question the first thing that I ponder is “what head canons?? what are characters??? Do I even watch tv???” So I needed to ponder a bit.

As far as it goes my favorite head canons are not typically ones that I myself have come up with. And going with that maybe the best one I know is for the series, and character, Sherlock.

I’m am 100% all in on Sherlock being on the autism spectrum. Yes, I know this is attributed to MANY characters but consider the fact that those reasons have a ton of validity. Sherlock has very strong indications of being on the spectrum and having read quite a number of essays on the subject, many of which were written by people who are also on the spectrum, I’m completely convinced. It’s to the point I don’t even like calling it a “head canon” as that implies it’s only a fan concept and therefore has less likelihood. It just feels so deliberate with that character.

So going off from that I would say, in a more general sense, my favorite head canons are they type where we can discover neurologically atypical traits in characters - especially heroes. Too long anyone neurologically divergent is portrayed either as a victim or, FAR FAR worse, as the “crazed villain” and frankly that is disgusting. So it is beyond refreshing to suddenly have this amazing, brilliant, layered person who also displays autistic traits. In going back over characters that I’ve loved most there are many who have traits of this sort that, only in hindsight, do I recognize. Just a few off the top of my head; Malcolm Bright, Shawn Spencer (100% ADHD), Rapunzel, Rick Simon (remember him? lol), Adrien Monk (his OCD was very deliberate), as well as characters who’ve developed trauma after horrific events such as, well, most MCU characters but particularly Tony Stark and Stephen Strange. Malcolm Bright also very much was built from trauma but I also am convinced there are neurologically atypical traits at play.

Thank you so much for the great ask!!

#disappearinginq

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plus-size-reader · 4 years

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Never Alone

Michonne Hawthorne x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1783 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Michonne helping you raise your daughter, because she doesn't want you to have to do it on your own

——————————————————————————————————

Your daughter had been a part of your life for as long as Michonne had known you.

You two lived in Alexandria long before Rick and the gang showed up there, and everyone knew that your daughter, Chloe, was the light of your life.

You would do anything for her, and you did. However, that was part of the problem as far as Michonne was concerned. She didn’t like the fact that you two were all alone.

It was always just the two of you, and while it seemed to work out just fine for you both, it just didn’t seem right for you to be all on your own. You had everything all on your shoulders, and she wanted to help.

She wanted to make it easier if she could.

After all, she knew what it was like to be a mother and it had only gotten more difficult since the world went to hell. No one should have to do it all by themselves, especially not surrounded by helping hands.

“‘Chonne” the little girl yelped, wobbling over to the woman, who was perched on the step, watching the people passing in the street. It was one of her favorite things about living in a fenced in community.

It was the one normal thing she had left.

If she could, she would spend all day there but she didn’t mind taking a break from it to spend it with you and that little ray of sunshine that you always had attached to your hip.

There was nothing better in this world.

...And she’d checked.

Of all the things that she’d ever had a chance to experience, in this world and the last one, there was nothing better than getting to spend time with you. There was just something about you.

She couldn’t help but be captivated in all the time that she’d gotten to experience by your side.

“Good morning little one, how are you?” she grinned, opening her arms wide for the sweet girl. It was the absolute highlight of her life, and she wasn’t ashamed of that.

All she got in return was a few happy giggles from the young one, who jumped into her arms happily. It had only been a night since she’d visited with her last, but for Chloe that was too long.

In fact, you were sure that the little girl would stay with her forever if she was given the choice.

When the two of you were together alone in your home, Chloe was constantly asking to see Michonne or quizzing you on what she must have been doing. You never had an answer for her, of course, but the thought was touching.

“I’m good, doing good” she chirped, fiddling with her fingers as she curled up in Michonne’s lap.

“Mama and I got apples this morning and mama says we can make a pie with them if I promise to go to bed on time” she ranted, adding more and more as she sat.

It was never a dull moment raising a four year old, after all.

However, at the mention of you, Michonne let her head snap up to where you were standing. Up until that point, you had just been watching the wholesome little scene unfold in front of you.

Having her attention on you made you admittedly more nervous than you would have been but you did your best to cover it up. “And how are you?” she hummed, her eyes sparkling as they met yours.

“Doing fine, making a pie tonight if you’re interested” you smirked, swinging the bag forward toward her to show them off. It was only four or five apples, but it would be enough.

You would make sure that it was enough.

Usually you wouldn’t have been so forward in your attempts to spend time with her, but it had been an extra hard week. No matter what you did, nothing seemed to be going right and maybe you just wanted some adult time.

You wanted to have a conversation with someone about something other than fireflies and homemade crayons. If you had to explain how the laces of Chloe’s shoes worked one more time, you would go insane.

That was the one thing you knew for sure.

If you had to risk looking like a fool to get something other than that, you just had to take that chance.

“Pie huh? I wouldn’t want to intrude” she started, but you stopped her before she could even try to come up with some excuse about interrupting your private time.

There was no such thing, especially not now.

“Don��t make me beg you” you teased, your voice just above a whisper as you pointed down at the child in her lap casually. You were desperate and upon realizing that, Michonne nodded.

It could be a good opportunity to spend some time together, even if neither of you was ready to admit that was what you wanted just yet. You had nothing but time right now.

“Come by after 6 and I’ll have something on the stove for dinner” you suggested, scooping up your toddler from her arms before going about your business for the day.

As much as you would have liked to spend all your time on her porch, you knew that wasn’t the most productive use of your time.

Relaxing would just have to wait.

~ You filled your day with harvesting veggies and carrying boxes of supplies up to the pantry from the barn but mostly, you were just chasing around your little girl, trying not to lose her.

Since she’s started walking, she had basically been running from the moment her eyes opened in the morning to when they closed at bedtime. It was what you’d signed up for when you had her, sure, but that didn’t make it any less tiring.

If there was one thing that was clear to everyone in Alexandria, it was that Chloe was a handful and you couldn’t argue.

That was part of the reason why dinner wasn’t done when Michonne knocked on your front door, opening it to find you curled up on the couch, your daughter playing dolls on the floor.

“Shhh ‘Chonne, mama sleeping” she hummed as soon as she placed the second woman in the entryway, watching the two of you with amusement shining in her eyes.

She could only imagine the kind of day you two had, and she wasn’t about to wake you up from your much needed rest. Instead, she picked your baby girl up off the floor and headed to the kitchen.

You had offered dinner, but nothing said you had to be the one to cook it.

“You wanna help me make mama something to eat?” she grinned, watching Chloe’s eyes light up immediately. She ‘helped’ you cook all the time but the idea of doing it with Michonne was much more enticing.

It was a fleeting opportunity, and even at her age, Chloe knew that it must have been a special offer.

...And with a wide smile, both she and Michonne got to work on dinner.

You woke to the sound of your little girl laughing and carrying on in the other room, instantly panicking. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep and you couldn’t keep your mind from wandering to the worst.

Anything could have happened in the time since you’d closed your eyes and you shuddered to think at what could be entertaining her. Luckily, when you rounded the corner, you relaxed.

There was no shambling corpse in your kitchen, or some dirty scavenger with a knife. Instead, by her side, was Michonne who had arrived on time, just as you’d instructed.

That was when it hit you.

You had overslept, and completely ruined any chance that you had to enjoy an evening with her.

“You’re here. I’m so sorry! I guess I dozed off and I didn’t hear you come in” you started, immediately rambling on as you tried to explain yourself to her. It was completely your fault but Michonne didn’t seem upset at all.

In fact, when you finally stopped to take a breath, you realized that she was smiling.

“It’s okay. I thought you needed the rest” she shrugged, knowing that you did, even if you didn’t want to admit it. Everyone on the block knew that Chloe was having trouble sleeping and that meant you were too.

Any extra chance you got to sleep was a miracle and she wasn’t going to rob you of that.

“Thank you” you hummed finally, taking one more deep breath to calm yourself before taking the time to actually assess what they were doing that amused Chloe in the first place.

They were baking.

There was a pot of stew on the stove, likely made from cans you had under the sink but you didn’t even care about that. More than anything, you were just glad that someone had made something.

If Chloe didn’t eat on time, she would throw one hell of a tantrum, but you didn’t have to worry about that now. Michonne had made sure she was taken care of, and now they were cleaning apples.

As you talked, your daughter was munching on clean apple skins that Michonne was removing with a kitchen knife, leaving in a pile for her to sort through.

“You want pie mama?” she giggled, holding out a chubby hand toward you, a few shreds of apple held in her grasp.

...You couldn’t even help but laugh along with her.

“You two did all this?” you asked, addressing your question to Michonne over your shoulder as you took the apple Chloe offered you. It was crazy that she would go through all this for you, but you weren’t even that surprised.

Michonne had always looked out for everyone before herself and it wasn’t a stretch to imagine that kindness would extend to you.

Chloe only nodded, focusing all her energy on the rest of the apple on the countertop. As she did though, you found yourself focusing more on Michonne as you smiled.

“Thank you” you whispered again, repeating yourself just to make a point. No one had to do anything to help you and this was much more than anything. This was something you couldn’t even believe and you were grateful to her for it.

You couldn’t help but be in awe of her.

“I told you before, you’re never alone” she winked, rounding the corner again to get started on the pie dough, which would inevitably end in all three of you covered in flour, giggling like lunatics.

...And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

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schrijverr · 4 years

Text

Cute Cuts

A compilation of cute Destiel moments that have been cut out of previous videos.

Part of the Famous Husband Verse, which is also a series

On AO3.

Ships: Destiel

Warnings: None, but I’ll be happy to tag something for you, no questions asked. Just hit me up

~~~~~~~~~

Dean was sitting in the middle of the screen, he waved and said: “Hi Hunters, welcome back. Today is a bit of a different video. I mentioned this in my recent Q&A video and you all seemed to love the idea, so here is some stuff about my husband I’ve had to cut out of previous videos. This is either from the videos we did together or from videos before the reveal when I said too much. Anyway, that is enough babbling from me, I hope you all enjoy it!”

The intro rolled, it was a drawn impala that came down the road, it stopped in the middle of the screen and the drawn Dean gave a wink to the viewers, then he sped off again and the smoke was bridge back to the video.

The first clip was from the reveal video, Castiel was looking into the little screen on the side of the camera as he mussed with his hair and huffed. He turned to Dean and asked: “Do I look okay? I want to make a good first impression.”

Out of frame you could hear Dean, who said: “You look absolutely stunning, huggy-bear.”

Then he leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

The next clip was out a video about something stupid Dean had done in college. He was in the middle of a sentence when he was interrupted by a knock. He looked to the side and called out: “Yeah, come in.”

“You’ve been recording for two hours, so I brought you a donut and some coffee.” Cas said as he got into frame to hand over the snacks.

Deans face lit up and he made grabby hands to the goodies. It made Cas laugh as he gave him the donut and coffee. Dean immediately took a sip right in the middle of Cas warning him for the heat. He spat out the sip when he inevitably burned the roof of his mouth.

Cas laughed a bit at him and Dean looked up with a pout and said: “It’s kind of your fault, so you need to kiss it better.”

“Oh, is it now?” Cas replied with a raised brow, but he was already leaning in.

After that it cut to them sitting opposite to each other while Cas was concentrating on Deans eye make up. Dean softly said: “Cas?”

“Yes, Dean.” Cas replied absentmindedly not breaking his focus.

“You’re really cute when you’re concentrated.” Dean said, smiling as Cas spluttered and stopped what he was doing to hide his face in Deans chest.

Dean hugged him and kissed the top of his head, before releasing him to get back to what he was doing.

It cut to an older Q&A, where it was Sam and Dean driving in the Impala. Sam read from his phone: “I want to know something about your mysterious boyfriend, at least give us an eye color please.” he looked up, “A lot of people liked this one, seems like they’re really curious about him.”

Dean laughed: “Yeah, they always are.” he looked to where the camera was for a second, before turning his attention back to the road as he answered, “His eyes are this amazing sort of blue, you know. They’re piercing when he looks at you and it’s almost like they draw you in, fixating and you have to look. He’s really good at staring, so you’ll just get sucked into these beautiful pools of blue so bright they could rival the sky on a sunny summers day, but they’re also icy and cool if you manage to piss him off. In short they’re stunning and amazing.”

Next to him Sam rolled his eyes and commented: “That’s enough poetry about his eyes for today.”

Dean far off dreamy look disappeared of his face and was replaced by something sheepish as he said: “That was a bit much, maybe. Although it is all 100% true. I’ll probably cut this part.”

“That’s fair.” Sam replied, then he smirked and ribbed: “You really are whipped for him, dude.”

Dean blushed heavily and he said: “Shut up, like you’re any better about Jess, bitch.”

Sam pouted and shot back: “Whatever, jerk.”

Then it went to the next clip, which came out of the Q&A video. Dean was about to read something of his screen when Cas stopped him. Dean gave him a questioning look, but Cas just fixed his hair and murmured: “You ran your hand through it again.”

Dean nodded in understanding and smiled softly, before clearing his throat and pulling his attention back to the question.

The clip after that was out a solo video of Dean, he did his intro: “Hi Hunters, welcome back. Today-”

He cut himself off and turned back to the surface next to him where he sometimes put stuff he needed to show for a video. The space was now occupied by a photo frame. He picked it up and smiled down at the photo.

“Sorry, cut this out. I got this picture from the living room, so I can look at it. Cas will be back tomorrow from that school trip.” he explained, looking down once more.

After that it cut to a bit from the husband tag, it was the discussion which had gotten cut out. To refresh memories he had left in the first bit as well. It began with Cas whining: “How many times do I have to tell you that I am not a strange being.”

“When you can prove you’re not.” Deans shot back instantly.

Cas threw his hands up and said: “How can I prove I’m not immortal, without dying.”

Dean took a deep breath and said: “You could try and teleport or fly, if you are an angel you should be able to fly.”

“I am not an angel, Dean. I have told you this many times before.” Cas said.

Dean smiled and replied: “With a beautiful face like that you could’ve fooled me, darling.”

Cas blushed, but recovered quick enough, by saying: “Flirting won’t work as a distraction technique to avoid that you do not have any arguments.”

“I have arguments.” Dean exclaimed.

Cas gave him a look and Dean went on: “Like, History, you know too much about, like you were there when it happened.”

“I studied History, Dean.” Cas sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

Dean squinted at him with suspicion and said: “I’m not convinced, babe.”

“Sure,” Castiel rolled his eyes, deciding it wasn’t worth it right now, “Shouldn’t we get back to the video now?”

Blinking confused Dean looked back to the camera with surprise, before smoothing over his features and getting back to the list of questions.

The next clip was from another story time video. It wasn’t long.

“So then me and Cas ran back like Hell, with this mad store owner on our asses.” Dean said, with a sparkle in his eyes, then he frowned and told the camera: “I said Cas again, didn’t I? Stupid, sorry, I meant Rick, my roommate. Let’s do that again.”

You could hear him pout: “Cas is much more fun.”

It cut to a clip from the husband tag, they were still prepping. Dean was fiddling with the camera and the focused wobbled a bit, but you could clearly see Cas sitting next to him. Once everything was clear, you could also see the love stricken look on his face.

Dean turned around and smiled as he asked: “What’s that face about?”

“Nothing, I just love you that’s all.” Cas shrugged.

The smile on Deans lips broadened as he replied: “Love you too, Cas.”, then he nodded to the camera and asked: “Are you ready?”

“Probably not, so let do it.” Cas answered.

The last clip was from when Dean had attempted to teach Charlie how to bake a pie to impress the ladies, which had been an experience to say the least. Nothing much was happening at the moment, they were just kneading the dough and at this point they had already captured some funny shots of that, so they weren’t really focused too much on the video itself.

In the distance you could hear a door open and close. Then a heavy thud followed by a long groan. Dean and Charlie shared a look, before Dean called out: “You okay over there?”

Cas’s voice flowed down the hall: “Yeah, just work.”

“What happened?” Dean yelled back, there was some shuffling after that and it was to be assumed that Cas had appeared in the doorway, which was just out of frame. When he saw the set up he quickly said: “Oh, you’re filming, I can come back later. Wouldn’t want to disturb.”

Dean looked at the camera and immediately said: “No, we have the stuff we need for now, we have time. Really. Come in. It’s your own damned house. I’ll cut it out, promise.”

“Don’t worry, just vent.” Charlie said from beside him.

Cas stepped into frame and gave her a short hug as he greeted her, before turning to Dean and nearly collapsing against him. Dean couldn’t really hug him, since his hands were dirty, but it seemed effective none the less.

Dean asked: “Wanna tell me what happened?”

“I had forgotten I put the deadline for three classes on the same day.” Castiel said, his voice muffled slightly, “Which means I have to grade 90 fucking papers all at least 3 pages long and I hate everything right now.”

Smiling softly Dean said: “That sounds like it sucks, angel.”

Cas looked up and complained: “It is.”

Charlie tried to comfort him: “Well at least we have comfort pie in a few hours.”

“Thank you, Charlie.” Cas said, then he sighed, “I think, I’m going to try and get started on the papers, good luck with your pies.”

“Same.” Charlie replied.

“Yeah, good luck.” Dean said, then he slapped Cas’s ass when he walked off.

Cas squeaked and frowned at the flour now staining his jean, leaving an obvious hand print. He quickly threw a bit of flour in Deans hair and dipped his hand in the flour making a hand print on Deans shoulder, before hurrying out of the kitchen.

A lot of fans remembered that, there had bee loads of theories that Charlie and Dean were secretly together with the jump cut and the sudden appearance of the hand print as proof.

Then it went to the end card. It was the same Dean from the beginning of the video and he said: “That was a lot of fun to put together, honestly. I hope you all liked it, if you did hit the like button and subscribe and hit that bell. Bye Hunters, see you on the road!”

Then the video ended.

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

God, Sam, didn’t lie about the

poetry

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

the casual i love yous make my

queer little heart hopeful bitches

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

OMG teachers hate their own

deadlines #karma

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

HE HAD A PICTURE WHILE CAS WAS GONE!!! I CAN’T!!!

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

I need a dentist now, damn

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

So far we got:

sunshine

angel

darling

huggy-bear

babe

Just how far does this mans

nickname vocab go??? Where

does it end???

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

He really tried to use the History

knowledge as an argument when

Cas studied History, like he’s

lucky he’s pretty, you know.

We stan a dumb bitch

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

#RR writing #dean winchester #castiel/dean #dean x castiel #sam and dean #Sam Winchester #castiel #destiel youtuber au #youtuber dean #TEACHER CAS #supernatural #SPN #spn fanfic #charlie bradbury

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eerythingisshaka · 5 years

Text

Will the Bell Ring? Pt. 6

[Erik Killmonger x Black!OC]

Word Count: 6.7K

A/N: I am now inspired to write again because a tweet said that Disney+ had hella issues on the date it dropped and 10 million people still stuck around to watch it. I’m taking that same energy with me.

“Mara, I won’t ask you again.” Erik says sternly. Kimara looks around casually, glad that they are at least located in a public place...though he still doesn’t seem to care.

“MARA!” Erik barks.

“Don’t cause a scene! Damn, you have absolutely no common sense!” She hisses as an elderly white couple looks away and walks faster down the path. A breeze starts to pick up in the air, causing the treetops to dance in the distance.

“Really? All I got is common sense when I hear you tryna pull a fast one on me. And to bring someone I respect in on this, that’s fuckin low!”

Kimara adjusts her seating on the bench as the metal digs into you thigh meat. “Respect?? Oh please, you were just knocking him on some petty shit last week! And I didn’t mean to! Ok? I’m sorry!”

“For what? I need specifics, lay out the entire situation for all the other nosy white folks walkin round the park today. They wanna see someone act a fool, I’ll give it to them if you keep pussy footin around.” Erik leans back on the bench, spreading his chest wide with pride as he stares her down. She can’t stand him.

Kimara lets out a sigh, laying one hand on his inner thigh for extra focus. “I am sorry...for putting you through so much pain and agony. I know how much the relationship means to and I shouldn’t have put it in danger by getting myself involved without talking to you first. And even then, I should’ve known better. I couldn’t even enjoy it without thinking about you and what you would think. So...never again. I promise.”

Erik scratches his chin, bouncing his leg before dipping his head down to look at Kimara over his fake gold rimmed eyeglasses with matronly contempt. “Long as you learnt never to watch Euphoria without me, we good.”

Kimara squeezes his leg, letting out a huge sigh of relief. “Thank God. You really bout to cut me over Fez and Rue huh?”

Erik sits up, clapping his hands together. “They are the true OTP if I ever seen one. They ain’t even gotta be intimate or whatever, just the fact that someone been through her journey and is now doing everything to help clean her up while the forces of small white town bullshit enable her is...poetry dawg.” Erik leans back shaking his head in awe.

“Babe, you are sappier than a maple tree in the summertime.” Kimara shakes her head, the loveliness of their conversation filling her head like a delicious fog she didn’t want to ever see the end of, but Erik’s lunch break was almost up.

Erik kisses her softly, making Kimara wipe the transfer of her gloss off his lips.

“Uh uh! Don’t worry bout all that baby. If that shit makes your lips as good as I like, I could use some too.”

“You so stupid!” Kimara cackles as they both get off their bench and walk side by side: his hand on her hip, her arms locked around his waist with one ear to his chest.

“This was nice.” Erik says distantly, more to himself than to her.

Kimara cranes her face toward his. “Yeah?”

He nods. “Yeah, just to not think about any of the bullshit we’ve had to deal with, enjoy God’s creations out here in the gentrified park. I feel like a damn retiree with stock and bonds and 401K real fat.”

Kimara settles in step with him again. “But you have all those things…”

“But I ain’t retired! White America don’t want a nigga to retire. Swear everything would go belly up if Black folks could live off of the fruits meant for them. They’d burn the whole damn thing down before that would happen.”

Kimara rubs his back to settle him. “Peaceful thoughts, remember?”

Erik’s chest expands and caves. “Aight. But real life is literally around the corner, so as much as I would like to have you in my office, I got shit to take care of.” Erik takes her chin and lifts her face up to his. “My Mara, My Mara…”

“...I’ll never be farther.” Kimara says with only slight embarrassment beause their little saying is so damn cute. Erik used to do cute rhymes with her name around the quad whenever she got down on herself or he thought he had her on the ropes to giving in to him. Rarely worked, but constantly appreciated. “I gotta go get some extra stuff for our dinner party later this week, so hopefully I won’t be too long at the studio. We got a new artist laying down a demo that should be pretty fire.”

Erik puts a fist to his mouth excitedly. “Oh worm? Finally my lady finna be the new M-M-M-Maybach Music!”

Kimara rolls her eyes. “I’ll be more than that! I got about two songs on there I’m getting writing credit for. I may wind up on the radio and you don’t even know it. But you’ll know them checks!”

Erik couldn’t smile harder if he had hooks in his mouth. “Your passion got you going off! Nothing wrong with it either, you deserve it. It’s been a long time coming.”

“It has. So, go on so I can make this deal happen.”

They locked fingers until distance forced them to break their grip. Erik waves off Kimara as she saunters up the path to the main road. His chest swelled with pride over his lady, she’s always been one of a kind. Her happiness is his happiness, without question. As he walked away, across the exquisitely decorated post modern/art deco lobby, to the elevator to the 33rd floor to his office, a cloud of dread weighed back on him that only got better with the help of Alaina. If she wasn’t his partner on this revamp project with Boeing, he’d be shitting himself on a regular.

Erik walks by a conference room, stopping short of turning the corner of the glass walls. He opens the door and peeks inside to see his friend hunched over a laptop, jumping slightly in her seat as he came across the room towards her.

“Damn, Erik! Why do your big ass feet step so lightly? Almost gave me a heart attack!” She breathed out a ragged sigh of relief.

Erik pulls out a chair to sit down, chuckling at her expense. “My bad, I just had to come in when I seen you slaving away in here. Figured you could use a distraction.”

Alaina smooths her hair back in her bun, her nude colored mouth in a tight, closed smile.

“I WISH you were a distraction for me, but unfortunately this involves the both of us. While you were on break, Asshole and Son recommend we draft a final proposal for the FAA to approve.”

Erik sat shocked. “What? Fuck, I mean that’s fucking crazy but kind of exciting too, right?”

She wags her finger. “Don’t forget we are only the field niggas round here. It sounds like an honor but in the end I am sure little Leave it to Beaver will be taking all the credit his daddy can send his way in order to keep the big wigs in good graces within the family.”

Erik taps his fingers on the deep wooden table, thinking. Would they really double cross him that far? Bringing him in on a project to mentor the bosses son only to pull the rug up under him and make him look like player two?

“That’s so damn white, sounds right.” Erik sighs in somewhat disbelief.

Alaina shrugs. “Told you. And until I hear it from him otherwise, that’s what I’m going to assume.” Alaina sighs and stretches her shoulders before going back in on the keyboard.

Erik furrows his brow. “If that’s it, then why are you still working on it? Don’t you wanna pack up and move on? You were brought here special for this, your time is wasted the most.”

Alaina’s eyes cast a ‘nigga please’ gaze on Erik. “Mr. Future Baby Fava, I think our time has been equally wasted. But guess what isn’t cut for my time here? My pay: which is double what I make at my primary while I’m here so…” She slowly leans over to grab Erik’s wrist. “...until I hear the fat white man sing, we’re gonna work on this project for as long as we can to milk that cow til it lays a golden goose egg and rolls the tortoise to the finish line!”

Erik scoffs. Alaina’s antics are half the reason Erik can’t quite distance himself from her. She has a liveliness that he’s kind of missed lately. “Man, you a trip and a fifth. But I like your style. Might as well get it done then.”

“Oh fuck that, I’m done for the day.” Alaina crisply closes her laptop, packin it under her arm and grabbing her case with the other.

“Whatchu mean? I thought you said-”

“I worked through my lunch, like a boss ass bitch does. You gotta work yours off, so Imma leave you to it. Call me if you bleeding out your ears from stress: no less than that.”

Erik rolls his eyes as he gets up and watches her walk away. The woman is working his last good nerve on purpose, but he likes it. The job isn’t as boring or predictable with her around. Now he just has to show her who the superstar has been all this time. If he works hard at this, it won’t be for these fat cats, it’s gonna be a bonafide competition and he ain’t scared to fight a girl.

—

At the studio, Kimara finishes up a session with a local up and coming artist named Delilah. Sweet girl, comes across very introverted until a mic is in front of her. Kimara appreciated her vibes and talent, baby girl is on trend so long as she stays cute she is bound to be noticed. Kimara ends their session a little early, wishing her well when it was time to wrap.

Kimara felt like the studio was her second home most of the time but today she had to get to her real home REAL quick to get dinner prepared. Tonight is the double dinner date with T’Challa and his boo of the moment. She kept trying to get ahold of Erik for help with ingredients but he kept leaving her on read.

Rick, the studio owner caught Kimara before she was able to get out the door.

“Hey Rick I know I cut things early, but I don’t have a lot of time unfortunately. I have dinner to take care of tonight with some friends that is so damn important, you wouldn’t believe.”

Rick smiles a large proud papa smile. “Oh I won’t keep you, but this news might. Remember Peter Gafflin? Legendary alternative rock/country artist extraordinaire who really love you last time y’all were in the booth together.”

Kimara couldn’t forget that man from their last session. She hadn’t been exalted for her talent that highly since Petey Pablo came in that one time and promised her name would be on a Freek A Leek remix.

“Yeah, what about him?” She asks.

Rick could not help his smile to save his life. “He called me up earlier today, saying he is planning to go on the road soon.”

“Yeah, yeah. That happens often when you drop a new album.” Kimara says impatiently.

“Right. So he was thinking that you would hopefully be available to join him for some shows on his North American leg of the tour.”

Kimara stood there like the Men In Black just wiped her memory. “Are-are you serious? When? How? What would I do??”

“He wants you to SING for him like you did that day, background vocals and he thought a duet portion would be nice too. You know the song ‘Boys Aren’t Born on Tuesdays?’”

Kimara clutches her chest. “Oh my God, that song is so rich. And he wants ME to sing it with him?”

“Uh huh!’ Rick slaps her arm in congratulations, but Kimara could barely feel anymore.

“In front of thousands. Across America...oh my God!”

Rick and Kimara hug excitedly, so much so that Rick has to wipe his eyes a little. “So is that a yes?”

Kimara stopped cheering to finally think a little. “I mean, I don’t know. If this was any other time I would say yes, but...I have some obligation here. I’m deep into trying to start a family and settle a little.”

Rick makes a face of pity. “I understand, I know. And I hope you do get that. Just…”

“Just…” Kimara parrots.

“...it’s Peter Gafflin.”

“It is Peter Gafflin.” Kimara says disheartened. She had been waiting for years to get something off the ground with a top tier artist, but the universe had a funny way of timing.

“Did I mention how much pay is?” Rick muses.

Kimara fans herself with a newspaper as she watches the rolls baking in the oven. She is so thankful to have gotten dessert from the bakery, because she was over it with cooking. She checks her phone for the time: ten minutes til 7. Her notifications show nothing from Erik yet, though she texted him twice today reminding his to not forget them hosting T’Challa and his girl. Twice, Erik texted that he’s got her, but that was five hours ago, now who knows what the hell he is up to. It would be perfect to bring up her good news with him in front of T’Challa and his date, while he smiles up at her with a hand inconspicuous and possessively on her behind...

But the light and fluffy feelings for the evening were quickly dwindling. Before she could send a last threatening text to convince him to bring his ass, the doorbell sounds at the last sentence. Kimara curses out loud, grabbing her oven mitt to take out the rolls that are a perfect golden brown. She dabs her brow with a spare dinner napkin before clopping her way to the door.

Opening it with a flourish, Kimara opens her arms in excitement.

“You made it!” She says with a cheery song.

T’Challa looks at her fondly, his mouth slowly curling into a smile. Kimara warms up to seeing her friend at her doorway.

“I was going to say it has been too long, but time moves backward for you. You look beautiful.”

Kimara places a hand on her hip for emphasis, trying to withhold her joy in his compliment in the worst way. “Oh please, it hasn’t been that long. You cleaned up good too.”

Kimara always enjoyed the way T’Challa dresses like royalty without even meaning too, choosing pieces that elongate his lean body, squaring his wide shoulders to create a proud presence.

T’Challa places a hand to his date’s lower back. “Iman has been looking forward to this night all week.”

A smiling Iman holds out a bottle of Proseco. “T has told me so much about you and your husband. You all seem to be a pretty tight family.”

Kimara takes the chilled bottle and leads them inside. “Oh yes. We have all known each other for so long, I can’t imagine not having known them.”

Placing the bottle on the table, Kimara claps her hands anxiously. “So I have prepared us a nice little salad and a pork...uh...pasta ” Kimara’s mind goes blank trying to remember what it’s called, she had only Googled the recipe that day. Tapping her foot, fidgeting, Kimara gives up. “Hell, some type of pork and spaghetti with peppers and shit. It’s got cheese too, it’s good. LEGGO!”

T’Challa and Iman chuckle as they head to the dining room. “Well whatever it is it smells great! I know your man must be fat and happy living with you.” Iman gushes, pulling out her chair to sit at the table.

Kimara shakes her head humbly as the unwraps the foil on the proseco. “Lucky for me, he is pretty active at the same time so it sticks in the right places. If only he could actually BE in the right places when we schedule things that way. Oh shit, lemme find a cork opener.”

Kimara rushes into the kitchen slamming drawer after drawer looking for the elusive corkscrew. She slams the bottle down a little too hard in frustration and hears the vibration of her phone on the counter next to her.

“Do you need assistance, Kimara?” T’Challa’s steady, gentle voice says behind her. She turns to see his concerned face looking down at her, hands firmly planted behind him respectfully.

Kimara waves her hand in frustration. “Aht aht! It’s fine, don’t leave Iman alone in there!”

“She is fine. Are you?” He asks quietly while opening a cabinet above the sink.

Kimara opens her phone to look at her notification. “Been better. Rather not talk while I’m supposed to be entertaining you guys.”

“But-”

Kimara puts her phone down hard. “RAGU! It was a pork ragu! With basil fettuccine, ugh! DUH!” Kimara turns to see T’Challa holding the corkscrew in his hand.

T’Challa continues, ignoring her topic change. “You should let me know if he isn’t being good to you.”

Kimara takes the corkscrew in one hand, bottle in the other trying to maintain her blood from boiling. “No I don’t. I would discuss that with my husband.”

“And he is where?” T’Challa asks calmly as Kimara walks past him and back to the table.

“God, what a help your beau is, we can finally have a much needed sip sip, eh?” Kimara exclaims a little too happily, sitting at the table as she drills the corkscrew in.

T’Challa opens the glass serving dish to examine dinner. “This smells very good, I will fix a plate for you, Iman.”

“No! I should serve you, Mr. King! Move your hand from that spoon.” Iman gets up, swinging her hips happily from side to side, digging the serving spoon into the delicious mix of sauce, noodles, and meat.

T’Challa gives a shy smile. “I appreciate it greatly, thank you.”

Kimara jerks the corkscrew out of the bottle too hard, knocking the handle against the table, causing T’Challa and Iman to look at her with shock.

“Pop goes the weasel, right?” Kimara giggles as she pours a third of the bottle into her glass, half an inch from the brim. She takes ahold of her glass, taking a few hearty gulps.

“So! Tell me how are things with you all, still in the honeymoon phase?”

Iman finishes off her plate, settling in to eat. “Well, I wouldn’t say that. Me and T are still kinda getting to know each other still, so I think honeymoon phase is a little too soon to call,” she says as she nervously scratches the back of her head as T’Challa just keeps on eating.

Kimara starts to feel warm, keeping mental note that the fucking must’ve halted between them. “Well there’s no need to rush at all. Relationships are so much damn work, it must be nice to cuddle up to a stranger every so often.”

Iman offers some wine to T’Challa who declines. “Have things been going well at the studio? Recording?”

“Oh yeah, more than recording actually. Sure, I just wish that I had the gumption to pull the trigger on doing some of my own shit. I got a lot of praise from artist and even the owner of the studio; I’ve known him a long time. But when it all comes down to it I just wonder what’s the point. That’s all gonna change soon though, no worries about me!”

Iman pouts with sympathy. “What do you mean?! You are a damn good looking lady and to have talent enough that people brag about, you gotta do something with it while you’re young and able!”

“I know I’m young and able. Well, I’m trying to start a family while I’m still young and able too.” Kimara mumbles, slumping in her chair.

“Oh! You are? Congratulations! From what little I remember from the night I met T, he seemed like a handsome guy with a good head on him. If he hadn’t brought us home, we may not be seeing each other now.” Iman’s hand disappear under the table to presumably T’Challa’s thigh, who looks over at her with kind eyes. “And that reminds me of your story. So T here got you and your husband together. What are the details on that?”

Kimara is two sips from the bottom of her glass. “Ohhh, that’s not dinner conversation unfortunately.”

Iman makes eyes at her. “Oooh, that scandalous huh? We all adults here, but I understand. Me and T weren’t very biblical our first night meeting so, hey.”

T’Challa wags a finger. “It’s not that, don’t be crass.”

Iman tuts at him. “I’m just being friendly, what’s the issue.”

“It’s a personal story. It should wait until Erik is here at least.” T’Challa offers.

Kimara puts her glass down, plate still empty or any dinner. “I don’t wanna bring that nigga up here anymore tonight, aight?”

Iman freezes mid bite as T’Challa sits up in his chair. “Kimara, please-”

“Uh uh! I’m in my house, I say what I want, I won’t be talked down to. Iman?”

Iman is still frozen.

T’Challa speaks up. “I’m just saying-”

“I’m talking! Iman? My husband and I have been trying to have a baby for months now, fucking like rabbits and I have yet to get pregnant. It’s gotten so I think he;s getting tired of fucking with me and now he is out ‘working late’. Now, he loves me because we have been through a lot to get to the point of being a married couple and he has had to prove himself loyal to me after...a lot of bullshit. But I ain’t got it in me to discuss play the Newlywed Game with you cuz hell if I know what my husband is up to anymore.”

T’Challa gets up from his chair abruptly, scraping the chair across the floor, stomping towards the kitchen.

Kimara starts to laugh out loud. “Oh shit, I think he’s pissed! Ohh, let me see what this is about…”

Iman sits up anxiously. “Do you need help?”

“No, no! I got him, he’s very reserved with his frustrations, so I can deal.” Kimara stomps into the kitchen. “Now what is up with you??”

T’Challa takes a towel off of a rack, folding it twice. “Did you need to unload on her like that?”

Kimara leans on the counter. “Sure, woman to woman. She seems to appreciate it.”

T’Challa opens the oven door, a plume of smoke billows out.

“Fuck! Oh noooo, my rolls!” Kimara exclaims, running to a window to open and fan out the smoke.

T’Challa puts the baking sheet to the sink. “I was trying to tell you I smell smoke.” He tossed the towel down making the sheet clang.

Kimara fans her face, coughing. “Oh, shit. I just forgot.”

“Mhm. You forgot your head this evening that’s certain.”

“What do you mean by that, T??” Kimara asks mockingly.

T’Challa glares at her. “If things weren’t going good, we could’ve rescheduled.”

“It’s funny you think I plan for my life to fall apart, cuz that is how it works right?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“No, no one means to hurt my feelings or make me feel like shit until it happens. You want me to be the perfect host. Erik wants me to be a good wife and mother when I can’t even get a bun in the ov-” Kimara stops short of the sentence. T’Challa hangs onto silence waiting for her to finish.

“T’Challa, what if this is all a sign? I burnt the rolls in the oven...because I can’t keep a bun in the oven? Like pregnancy? I can’t bake anything!!” Kimara wails as she covers her mouth crying. T’Challa goes over to her but stops short as Iman enters the kitchen.

“Hey, if everything is under control, I might head out.”

T’Challa looks back at Kimara then Iman. “Well, let me call you a ride.”

“Already did. Kimara, dinner really was good, I’m sorry to leave so soon.”

Kimara has her back turned, wiping her face before facing her. “Thank you for coming. You’re as nice as I heard.”

“I will walk you out then.” T’Challa offers as they leave Kimara in the kitchen. Her phone begins to ring, as she picks it up to find Erik’s name glowing on the screen. All she can do is silence it, she was in no mood to talk, otherwise she might have to make a Lemonade album about it.

Kimara goes back to her dining room table, sitting down to the bottle of wine. T’Challa comes back in, closing the front door behind him.

“Eh, eh. Put that down. Eat something instead.”

Kimara groans as she swallows one more gulp from the bottle before getting it snatched from her hand.

“I’m not feeling your vibes T’Challa, honest.”

“Vibes? Do you hear yourself talking?”

“Yeah I do. That’s all I ever hear is my damn self.”

“You are not supposed to be drinking while planning a family, aren’t you?” T’Challa asks softly, sitting next to her.

Kimara sighs deeply. “I’ve done everything right. All I’m supposed to do is carry, I can’t even get there. God, I would kill for even a miscarriage, just to know that I didn’t completely fuck up my reproductive system!”

“STOP IT!” T’Challa’s voice booms between them, reverberating off the walls. Kimara sits upright, looking away from T’Challa’s face. His energy calms as he leans a little further towards her.

“You do not deserve to beat yourself up like this. Do you realize how far you’ve come in life from when I first met you to now? There is no one as smart or witty or brilliant as you that I can also put faith in as a friend.”

Kimara fidgets with her fingers. “Good thing Iman isn’t here to hear that.”

T’Challa sits back, taking a swallow of wine from the bottle himself. “I won’t edit my statement, but she is a nice girl.”

“I still like Nakia better.” Kimara says matter of factly.

T’Challa bristles at the name, looking into the distance. “Yes, I guess she is my kryptonite, however too flighty.”

They sit in silence for a beat.

“What about that night? What did it mean?” Kimara asks.

T’Challa’s brow furrows. “Which do you…”

“A few weeks ago? My car?” Kimara rubs her face roughly. “Ughh, I hope it’s not the wine talking but I swear there was a moment that felt like...a thing. Am I wrong?”

T’Challa does something he does not always do: he begins to stutter. It’s slow, without the skip, but a stutter nonetheless.

“I...Well...hmm,” He says before his mouth motions wordlessly.

“...T?” Kimara asks teasingly. “It’s ok!”

He looks her in her eyes intensely, like she just cursed him out. “Huh?”

Kimara shrugs. “We didn’t do anything so it’s ok. Don’t sweat. That’s why I’m glad we are friends cuz I know nothing bad happens when you’re around. No craziness, drama, you just bring me back down to earth with a good talk. It was just a moment. Gotta remember that.” Kimara pats his knee and gets up.

“Wait, so were you thinking of me in a way that night?”

Kimara sees a light flash across the curtains of her window. “Well, look at this. Daddy’s home.” Kimara comes back to the table to pick up plates. “T’Challa go ahead and have a good night. You don’t wanna be here when I’m throwing dishes into the sink until Erik comes in and has the nerve to ask what the fuck is wrong with me. When the whole nigga nerve of it all is that he would have the gall to think I’m wrong to begin with!”

T’Challa waves his hands heading for the door. “I am already gone.”

The early morning sun is extra bright as erik drives himself and Kimara to see their regular fertility specialist Dr. Tracy.

“I’m glad she was able to see us today.” Erik says.

“Are you?” Kimara asks while scrolling through her phone.

Erik scratches himself. “Ion know, I just…”

“What?”

“I mean...if we do this it’s like cool, we finna get a baby off top-”

Kimara tuts at him. “No! She said that it still isn’t guaranteed. We are good candidates but not to expect success right away.”

Erik lets out a groan. “Right, right. Can’t no shit come easy for me.”

Kimara looks at his profile as he drives, catching Erik looking out the corner of his eye. “What you lookin at me like that for?”

Kimara crosses her arms. “I’m just trying to figure out what to title your sob story in all of this. ‘I do what I want and when it don’t go like I plan I pout?’ Or ‘Fuck everything and everyone, I’m going through it but don’t ask me what’s wrong?’”

“Damn Mara! The fuck you gotta go there for? The minute I try and share something with you, you bite my fucking head off!”

“Watch yourself cursing at me! I ain’t in the mood for it, and I ain’t letting it fly like that today, ok? I don’t need this much excitement before an appointment.”

“Then don’t go nuts on me like you some damn comedian, roasting my ass. I’m here ain’t I?”

“Do you not wanna be?!” Kimara shrieks.

Erik goes silent, turning on the click of his turn signal. The tension in the car is sky high and although Erik doesn’t mind a fight, he knew not to act a fool in front of these doctors in this side of town.

Kimara leads inside to check in with the receptionist. As they sit in the lobby, Erik is glued to his phone the entire waiting period, fingers texting furiously.

“Why ain’t you holding my hand?” Kimara asks. “You always hold it while we wait.”

Erik looks over quickly and leans back offering out his hand. “My bad.” While the other continues to work double time on his screen.

“Who is...Alan?”

Erik jerks his phone back. “It’s not Alan.”

Kimara drops his hand. “Than who is it?”

“Work.” He says curtly, flipping to his Instagram instead.

“Is something wrong with the project you’re working on? Is Alan the one helping you?”

“Yes and no.” Erik says.

“Wait. It is wrong and Alan isn’t helping?”

“It’s not Alan!” Erik bellows before coughing to cover his outburst.

“Kimara?” Dr. Tracy says brightly with a smile, waving them back. Kimara smiles tightly back.

In her office, Dr. Tracy goes over the procedures and preparations for IVF, with all of the medical jargon, followed by some generous simplified explanation. It all sounded complicated and expensive but Kimara was grateful to hear about everything that could make her miracle possible.

“And Erik, you can be an awesome support by making sure to watch your alcohol intake, exercise, eat healthy, and avoid any environmental pollutants.”

“I was bout to watch that Chernobyl show; is that off the table now?” Erik asks.

“Erik, you ain’t got time for shit else, quit playing.” Kimara says with a little bark in her voice.

Erik laughs in a menacing tone. “Ok.”

Dr. Tracy looks between them nervously. “...we also provide counseling to couples during the process, as it can be difficult.”

“I wouldn’t mind it, but he wouldn’t be able to make it.” Kimara says.

“Oh you speak for me now?”

Kimara shrugs. “If you ain’t there, how else can things go forward?”

Erik sputters in disbelief. “I won’t be getting like this in front of the damn doctor. Thanks, doc. I got the prescription and shit, let’s go.” Erik keeps talking under his breath as he leaves the office. Kimara gets up to leave

“Is everything ok between you two?” Dr. Tracy asks.

Kimara hesitates before saying it’s fine, nothing more than a couples spat. Erik may have been right about needing to change doctors. At least a new one wouldn’t know when things were wrong. This would just look like a normal interaction to fresh eyes.

Back at their house, Erik is reading the instructions for her shots.

“Says this supposed to help in producing eggs for you. Still gonna take a while though.”

Kimara sits silent watching her shows.

“Remember to mark down when you got your period last. Supposed to start doing these on your next cycle.”

Silence.

Erik folds the instructions up, standing from the dining room table. He comes up behind the couch, leaning next to Kimara’s ear.

“Nassau is this weekend, you know?” SIlence. “You picked us a real good spot to make our own magic down there. I think we need it.”

“WE need a lot more than a trip to an island. Erik, you still ain’t said sorry for a damn thing you said to me today.”

Erik scooches to one side of Kimara to face her. “What should I apologize for?”

“Embarrassing me? Not telling me about what’s going on with you and also not asking how things are with me? Being secretive and mean to me?” Kimara’s eyes begin to well up. “You ain’t talked to me without walking off mad in so long, I don’t wanna get used to it Erik! You didn’t used to do that!” Erik hooks one leg followed by the other over the back of the couch to sit next to Kimara, holding her hands tight.

“It makes me think about before you left for that damn military out the blue. You snapped on me back then too. You tryna go somewhere else again?”

“Hell no! That life is behind me, I got nothing but you and work to get through now.”

“So I’m a damn task?” Kimara mopes.

“No! Look: I don’t mean to say anything to make you think you boring because you’re not. You’re the most exciting thing in my life, and I love having you with me. Every time I’m reminded you’re my wife, I’m thinking how we should be on our damn tenth wedding anniversary instead of third. But I’m done and thankfully you’re not.”

“Then why are you doing me like this?”

“I-I don’t wanna force shit on you more than you can handle. I got things happening at my job right now that could make you think the worst, but I promise it’s not. And you don’t need that pressure right now.”

“Neither do you!”

“I can handle it. You focus on your dreams at the studio, and getting ready to host the biggest headed baby your womb will ever know.”

Kimara snorts thinking about this, looking down instinctively. Erik takes one side of her face in his hand.

“I wanna be more open but I don’t wanna cost you anything too. So until shit blows over, just know I got this. Be patient with me, and I promise to be more patient too.”

Kimara pulls Erik to her for a longing kiss, rubbing his face for comfort. She could feel he cares, but there was still so much gnawing in her mind, she just wasn’t ready to discuss. But there was one thing.

“One more thing though, before I call it forgiven and get to packing for the trip.”

“You still ain’t packed?”

“I’m asking the questions! Who is Alan?”

Erk sighs, dipping his head down before looking her in the face to answer. “Alaina.

“He’s a what?”

“Huh? No, Alaina. The name was Alaina not Alan.”

Kimara’s face draws up inquisitively. “And...she is?”

“My partner for the project I’m working on. They recruited her from another region and-”

“That’s who you spent the night with instead of dinner with T’Challa and me and his girl?” Kimara asks.

“I came home! Don’t make it sound like that, it was a late night. Ole dude I work for keeps piling shit on me and deadlines-”

Kimara waves her hands in front of him. “It’s fine.”

“Huh?”

“It’s ok!” Kimara smiles. “Seriously, I trust you. You said works been beating your ass, and I know you wouldn’t be looking all sour if you were getting some ass on the side, so I think I can trust you aren’t cheating.”

Erik stared at her speechless before nodding and agreeing.

“Plus, we tryna have a baby and I know you wouldn’t mix shit up with her when all that seed is mine, like that would be wasteful.”

Erik growls in his chest, leaning over her, nose to nose. “Say that again.”

Kimara holds back her smile, rubbing his chest. “Your seeeed is miiiine. Don’t waste it.” Kimara bites his lip at the end of ‘it’, catching him of guard, but not enough to lay her out legs spread quicker than she could blink.

“Wait wait, Erik. I can’t!” Kimara says, half giggling.

“Whatchu mean?? You playing with a dog and get afraid when you get the bark? Quit playing and get them draws off.” Erik pulls at her bottoms.

“No! Wait! I mean it, I’m cramping and shit. I don’t want nothing near my pussy right now.”

Erik moans out loud in frustration, plopping backwards on the couch, erection pushing at his sweatpants.

Kimara lowkey loved making him wait, period or not. It’s nice to see he still wants her, and no one else has his attention to fix his rather big problem throbbing in his pants.

“Erik? You never told me what you think about the tour.”

Erik exhales loudly. “Good idea, that’s finna kill my hard on real quick.”

“Erik!”

He sits up, pushing down on himself. “Mara, I want you to get your hustle goin, I know you been singin since way way way back.”

“Hold up, it ain’t been that long, makin me feel old.”

Erik bops her with his shoulder. “You know you been my Suga Mama.”

“Two months older Erik. Dassit!”

Erik looks at the floor, rubbing her knee. “I just don’t understand why you think it’s best to leave now. What Imma do without you for two months?”

“Whatever you been doin get home late at night.” Kimara says flatly.

“The project is almost finished, do I don’t know where that attitude came from.”

Kimara sits silent, not up for a fight, especially in her hormonal state.

Erik stares at her, testing her. He knows she wants to say more, she always does. “I got two more weeks on this, and it’s done. My workload is gonna be lighter, more boring, and I promise my time will be yours, but now you wanna leave, so.”

“But you understand why right? It doesn’t sound like you do. I don’t wanna leave you alone or stop trying, but...this is my dream!”

“Having a family is too right? That’s why all our time and money been revolving around everything related to that for almost a whole damn year. It’s fucking flaky.” Erik shoots back.

“Erik, you got to do what you wanted, right? This ain’t new with you! When you want something, you go for it, fuck anybody that gives a shit, it’s yours. I’m tired of being in the shadow of your shit, cleaning things up so you can have your peace. This is mine.”

“The fuck is you talkin about?? Is your PMS going retrograde or some shit?” Erik speaks over her in an agitated tone. Nothing Kimara said made sense anymore to him.

Kimara gets up, waving him off. “Eat my ass Erik, I said what I fucking had to say and I mean that shit.”

Masterlist

Ragtag

@chaneajoyyy @sarcastic-sunshines @muse-of-mbaku@dameshaemonique @fonville-designs@destinio1@bakarisange l@wakanda-inspired @klaine15689 @savageiz @nickidub718 @yoyolovesbucky @alexundefined @forbeautyandlife @bakarisangel

#shakafic #black panther fic

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boltsandashes · 5 years

Note

I really want to know the answer to allll the question, but I'll be fair to others.... 13 - 18!

Alright so this has been sitting in my drafts for three months oops XD but let me try and tackle these!@erictwd

13. How do they greet the world — what is their typical attitude towards life? How does it differ in different circumstances, or towards different subjects? Why do they take these attitudes, and why do they change? How do these tend to be expressed?Daryl tends to be pretty practical overall, taking each problem one at a time and dealing with it as it comes. Growing up in fairly miserable circumstances has given him a pretty relaxed “survived that, can survive this too” attitude that can keep him pushing through dark days that might cripple most people. But that same mindset also tends to keep him from pushing for more than survival. He knows how to keep going through just about anything, but he’s got a harder time picturing more than keep going. Ask him about a dream or a happy ending or what he wanted to do with his life and you’d probably get a scoff and a shrug.

It’s also notable that, despite all the disappointments and losses life’s thrown at him, Daryl has an almost naive, almost stubborn optimism when it comes to the people he cares about. Searching for a little girl lost in the woods, refusing to believe she was gone even with all the odds against her. Losing his injured brother in an overrun city but convinced he was ok... and later not giving up on Beth, and then Rick. Even with all the hell he’s been through, he can never make himself accept the worst until he’s actually seen it.

14. What do they care deeply about? What kind of loyalties, commitments, moral codes, life philosophies, passions, callings, or spirituality and faith do they have? How do these tend to be expressed?Daryl has a strong moral code but overall (and despite his own claims, even) he tends to put his faith more in people than abstract concepts. When you’ve earned his loyalty it’s almost impossible to lose it, and he’ll be more likely to compromise his morals than his loyalty, at least to a certain point. (He might go along with something he knows is shitty for a while, or a command he disagrees with, if he’s given his trust to the person giving the order.)

That said, Daryl has lines he’ll never cross. (He has a sense of chivalry people might call outdated, but if you threaten a woman or child around him you’re basically declaring war.)

15. What kind of inner life do they have — rich and imaginative? Calculating and practical? Full of doubts and fears? Does it find any sort of outlet in their lives?Daryl’s not particularly imaginative by nature. He’s pretty practical and tends to focus on the thing in front of him. Problems and solutions, observations.

That said, he’s actually fairly superstitious (due to stories instilled by his mom as a child), but he’s typically practical about that as well. Try to tease him about it, he’ll tell you it’s pretty ignorant to assume science has figured out everything there is to know, isn’t it? And won’t you feel stupid if you go stomping around some fairy ring like an ass and end up with damn donkey ears? Just common sense not to risk it.

16. Do they dream? What are those dreams like?When Daryl sleeps deep enough to dream (which is rare) it’s usually a mess of anxieties bubbled up in the form of (shocker) him hunting for something. Lost loved ones, threats, or even just an indiscernible something he can’t put his finger on but desperately needs to find. Daryl’s dreams are nearly always restless things, searching things, and he’s usually a lot better rested when he doesn’t dream at all.17. Are they more shaped by nature or nurture — who they are, or what has happened to them? How have these shaped who they’ve become as a person?I feel like the answer to this question, for anyone, is both. Daryl’s views on the world and on himself are deeply shaped by the environment he was raised in. He grew up with very little sense of self-worth and it only got worse as he got older, but his miserable upbringing also taught him that he could grit his teeth and live through just about anything. Besides giving him basic survival skills –– he lived off what he hunted more often than not, even before the world ended –– he’s a fighter and can always soldier on because he doesn’t know any other way to be.

His upbringing also kept him pretty ignorant about different types of people, but Daryl’s openminded and insightful nature kept him from becoming casually hateful like his brother or most of his community, and he was able to adapt and flourish once he left that place behind and met his found family.18. What kind of person could they become in the future? What are some developmental paths that they could take, (best, worst, most likely?) what would cause them to come to pass, and what consequences might they have? What paths would you especially like to see, and why?

Daryl’s come such a long way from the person he was in season one. He’s learned a lot about accepting himself and letting himself be accepted, and believing in his own self-worth outside of just how well he could feed or protect a group. In canon Daryl’s becoming a father figure and starting to step up as a leading voice in the communities, and in a best case scenario that would continue to develop. I’d love to see him start to believe that he’s not only worthy but capable of having a romantic relationship. And I’d love for him to understand and feel like he belongs. And maybe, for the first time, start thinking of Alexandria as home.

In a worst-case scenario –– if people like Carol, Lydia, and Judith were to die –– I could see Daryl collapsing back into isolation, closing in on himself the way he’s done after major losses in the past. Letting his guilt drag him into hopelessness and self-harm. When things go wrong Daryl tends to believe he’s the reason they’ve gone wrong –– for doing something wrong, for not doing enough, for failing to see and think and protect the way he should’ve. Absolute rock bottom would find him slipping into alcoholism, but he’d only go there if he'd hit a point of no way out self-loathing and actively wanted everyone to see him as a monster and give up on him, because becoming a drunk like his parents is legitimately the worst thing he could picture for himself.

#erictwd #ask daryl #this is SO LONG and i still feel like i only answered about a third of the questions #but it was also super in-depth and interesting to think about #about daryl

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elizaviento · 6 years

Text

Assimilation (part 12/23)

Note: Some more smutty goodness for ya along with a healthy dose of angst. Enjoy!

NSFW -- 3150 words

(FYI: Additional chapters of Assimilation can be found in the Rick Fic Masterpost link in my blog description. Or, you can click the #assimilation tag in this post, within my blog, to access all additional chapters.)

*****

After I left the garage, I spent the remainder of the night lying on the trundle bed – staring at the ceiling while a steady stream of tears leaked from my eyes, down the sides of my face to soak into my hair. Every now and again, I would wipe them away but mostly I let them fall. I could hear the sounds of my family moving about in the house but I couldn’t bring myself to get up and join them. As much as I tried to comfort Morty earlier, I wasn’t very good at doing so with myself.

I felt guilty. How could I have tried to completely erase Chris from my life? It wasn’t possible; a fool’s errand. And, that’s exactly what I was – a fool. No one had ever loved me as much as he did and I doubted anyone ever would. And, what did I do? I betrayed his memory. I only hoped that my counterpart appreciated her husband more than I did mine. I’d find out sooner or later, though, once I got my hands on those goggles.

My life had become one giant cluster fuck made worse by the fact that I allowed myself to fall into an affair with someone I had no business even entertaining the possibility with. Was I strong enough to tell Rick that this couldn’t continue? Could I resist him if he came on to me again? No, probably not. Why did I ask him to recount our time on Unity’s planet? What exactly was my end game with that little request? I obviously hadn’t recovered all of the memories of my assimilation but what did I gain by learning the rest from Rick’s point of view? Most likely, he’d give me a watered down version; downplay any expectations he had or advances he’d made. I couldn’t even blame him because that’s exactly what I would do if the tables were turned. He had no clue I wasn’t myself so the humiliation he probably felt upon discovering otherwise must have been intense. Not to mention, the betrayal associated with such manipulation.

I was so deep inside my own head that I was startled by the knock on my ‘bed room’ door. It was Morty, wondering if I was okay. I lied to him, of course.

“I told Mom and – and Dad that you’re – that y-y-you aren’t feeling well,” he informed, his voice muffled as it carried through the pressed wood. I thanked him and told him to go enjoy his evening. I’d be fine, really.

At about 2:30 am, I got up to use the toilet and when I returned, I found the inter-dimensional goggles hanging from the door knob with a sticky note attached that simply read “D-79”. Feeling my heart rate increase, I snatched them up and locked the door behind me even though there was absolutely no movement in the house. I felt like a teenager about to sneak watch porn; like I was about to do something dirty. Perhaps it was dirty to spy on someone else’s life. However, as I had told Rick earlier – I didn’t give a shit.

Luckily, the controls on the goggles were pretty self-explanatory. There was a power button, a select button, a play button, a fast forward button, and a rewind button. A rewind button? The idea that I could rewind the life of my counterpart was almost unbelievable. Almost, because the idea of inter-dimensional goggles was unbelievable in the first place, yet here they were in my hands. After taking a deep breath, I pressed the power button and slipped them over my head.

I assumed that I would have to locate the dimension I needed since Rick made sure to indicate it on the sticky note, but it was already queued up – based on the tiny display at the bottom – and was playing live, right in front of my eyes. Well, it would have been if my counterpart wasn’t obviously asleep. All I could see in this moment was the back of her eyelids. Of course, she’d be sleeping at 2:30 in the morning. I felt like a moron – until I remembered the rewind button.

Without removing the goggles, I ran my hand along the outside until my fingers felt the indentation of the two backward facing arrows and pressed. Images began to flash in front of my eyes at lighting speed and I made myself wait for twenty seconds before locating and pressing the play button. It seemed like those twenty seconds sent me back to about mid-day in dimension D-79. As the images began to play back at normal speed, I was amazed at how it seemed like I had assumed my counterpart’s body instead of just watching through a pair of goggles. She was at work; the same place I had worked before moving away which surprised me, for some reason. Regardless, this wasn’t what I wanted to see, so I pressed the fast forward button for about five seconds and pressed play once more.

----------

I walk through the front door of my house and immediately kick my shoes off, sending them flying across the foyer. It was a long day at work and I just want to peel the rest of my work clothes off and drink wine until I fall asleep on the couch watching MSNBC. I hear my phone chirp and pull it from my bag to see a new voicemail from Chris. He never leaves me voicemail — preferring instead to text — so I know it has to be something important.

“Hey, babe. I’m leaving for my shift now. I don’t know if you still plan to go over to Beth and Jerry’s for dinner tonight but I’ll try to call you when I have a break. Something weird happened today that I need to tell you about.”

Shit, I forgot it was Wednesday. No wine and MSNBC for me after all. We always eat at Beth and Jerry’s on Wednesday but I’ll make sure to let them know I’m expecting a call from Chris so Jerry doesn’t get pissy if I step away from table to take it. Especially since Chris doesn’t usually work the night shifts but has been recently to fill in for a co-worker out on leave. Truth be told, I’m still paranoid of Chris working nights after that guy stabbed him. He nearly died and was in the hospital for a month. I really don’t think I could live through something like that again.

It’s 5:30 pm now so I should make my way over so I can help Beth. I wonder what weird thing happened that Chris felt the need to call me about. My gut twists at what I hope he doesn’t say when I hear from him later tonight. Trying to forget about it, I change into my favorite jeans and a t-shirt before making my way next door. I let myself in and say hi to Jerry and the kids as I head to the kitchen, where I know I’ll find Beth.

“Hello, Bethany, my love. What do you need help with?” I notice that the door leading to the garage is open so I peak my head inside and also say hi to Rick. He’s sitting at his work station with his back to me and doesn’t turn around but raises one hand in the air to greet me, which is typical.

“Can you set the table?” Beth asks before adding, “Chris still working nights?”

“Yes, for a little while longer.” I see Rick turn around on his stool from the corner of my eye.

“I – uh – I’ll come help ya, Chicken,” Rick says as he makes his way into the kitchen.

“Aw, thanks, Dad” Beth says, placing a hand on his shoulder as he passes by her and saddles up next to me as I’m pulling dishes from the cabinets. He doesn’t need to stand this close to get to the silverware drawer and I throw him a glance. He smirks and but doesn’t move away. When I have all the dishes I need, I make my way to the dining room with Rick on my heels.

The kids are already sitting at the table. Summer is tapping away on her phone, as usual, and Morty is reading a book that was assigned to him in his English class. There is a jacket cover on the book so I ask, “Lord of the Flies?”

“1984,” he replies, placing the book on the table with a sigh.

“Also good,” I confirm, placing glasses and plates at each sitting. Rick is close behind with the cutlery.

“I-I-I can’t pay attention – concentrate on it long enough to know w-w-what’s going on,” he says, sighing again. He look so dejected.

“I can explain it to you, kiddo.”

“No, he needs to read it and understand it on his own,” Jerry interjects as he enters the dining room and takes his place at the table.

“Don’t pretend she didn’t have to read – explain it to you, Jerry,” Rick spits. I throw him another glace as I’m really not in the mood to hear them bicker throughout dinner.

“Jer, I may need to step away and answer a call from Chris while we’re eating. He said he needs to tell me about something weird that happened today.”

“Oh, y-y-you mean when he was practically fuckin’ – dry humping an alternate version of you in the driveway?” Rick mentions, his tone casual.

“Excuse me?” I ask with a laugh before the expression on his face confirms that he’s not joking. “Wait… what?”

“That – t-t-that’s not what happened, Rick,” Morty says, rolling his eyes. “Some other Rick and Morty showed up here, probably to s-steal from us like we were doing.”

“And, they had an alternate version of me with them?”

“Yeah,” Morty says. “It was weird though ‘cause she was hugging Chris.”

I glace at Rick and he shrugs his shoulders. “I ran – chased them off. You’re welcome.”

I take Morty’s lead and roll my eyes. Rick can be such an ass.

Dinner is uneventful, thank god. I check my phone a few times but Chris doesn’t call. I do get a text from him right before I’m about to leave that says, “No time to talk. Not a big deal though. See you in the morning.”

It’s 8:00 pm now and I’m exhausted but I can still enjoy some wine and catch the remainder of my favorite political shows, which excites me. I then realize how boring I must be to become excited over cheap wine and politics. Suddenly, I hear the whirl of a portal opening behind me and I turn to catch Rick as he steps through before it pops out of existence. I don’t have time to open my mouth to speak before he closes the distance between us, places his large hand on my mouth and shoves me against the wall. He’s already hard and I wonder for how long as he places a gentle love bite to the junction between my neck and shoulder.

“Mmm, I-I-I know you want this cock, baby,” he says, grinding it against my thigh.

Then, he removes his hand so I can reply. “What took you so long?”

Now, positioning both hands on the small of my back, he glides them down to cup my ass before hoisting me up. I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck as he carries me down the hall to the master bedroom. When we reach the bed, he gently sits me down on the edge. As he straightens, I’m already unbuckling his belt, my mouth is watering. It takes mere seconds to get his pants and briefs around his ankles and my mouth around his cock.

“Ah, fuuuck. T-t-that’s nice, sweetheart.”

He rakes his fingers through my hair before gripping at the scalp. I flick my eyes up to meet his and hold contact as I blow him, taking him as far down my throat as possible – just how he likes.

“Christ, you know how to suck a dick,” he encourages as he uses the grip on my scalp to bob my head on his length. I let my mouth fill with saliva as he fucks my face and it begins to slip out and roll down my chin to the expensive Persian rug below. I paid way too much for that rug but can’t give a fuck about it now.

Far too soon for my liking, Rick pulls his dick from my mouth to command, “Strip. Bend over. Palms flat on the mattress.”

Of course, I comply – pulling my clothes off as fast as I can – and soon, he’s rubbing the head of his cock up and down my slick cunt. I moan and fist my hands into the comforter when I feel him slowly press his way inside. But, suddenly he stops and pulls back.

“What the fuck?” I whine, looking over my shoulder at him. I guess he’s decided to be a tease.

“I wanna put – stick it in your ass tonight, sweet girl. Pound t-t-that ass ‘til you cry. Would you like that?”

“Oh, yesss,” I hiss, turning to face forward again, lying my upper body on the mattress while he retrieves the lube from the night stand beside my bed. I watch as he strips the remainder of his clothing while he’s on his way back to his position behind me and a moment later, I feel the cool substance drip down the crack of my ass. It makes me shiver and giggle.

“Shit, you – y-you’re fucking sexy,” he growls, rubbing his callused palms down the curve of my ass before spreading my cheeks wide. When he gently presses a thumb over and inside my puckered entrance, I groan at the intrusion but I know it’s nothing compared to what he has in store for me. He then removes his thumb and replaces it with an index finger, then a middle finger. The stretch is amazing and now I’m panting, dying for his cock. Of course, he takes notice and chuckles.

“You’re ready now, huh?”

He doesn’t wait for my reply before positioning his cock and pressing forward. I cry out and press my face to the mattress when he breaches the ring of muscle and pops inside. Then, he stops to rubs his hands up my ass cheeks until he reaches my waist and continues forward slowly toward my tits, his cock sliding deeper inside. When he finally reaches my nipples – rolling them between his fingers – he’s fully seated inside my ass and my pussy is already aching.

With his chest resting against my back, he whisper in my ear, “Don’t y-y-you dare touch your clit until I say so.” Then, he straightens, grips my hips, slowly pulls nearly all the way out and then presses all the way back in even slower. He continues at this pace for what seems like an eternity – until I’m losing my mind and begging him to speed up.

“Oh god, Rick, please!”

“Please what, baby?” he asks while slowly pressing back in. Yes, tonight he’s going to tease.

“Go faster! Please! Just fuck me already!”

“Mmm, you – you sure?” Slowly dragging out.

Too overwhelmed to reply with words, I sob and press my face to the mattress once more. He has apparently decided he’s teased me enough, however, because the next thing I know, he’s quickening his pace. I cry out in gratitude; sparks of pain and pleasure radiate through my lower half and my pussy is clenching, dying to be filled.

“Rick,” I groan, “Please… fuck my pussy with your fingers.”

“Is she – is she feelin’ lonely, huh?” he asks, sliding them up my slit. “Fuck, you’re dripping.” Finally relenting, he pushes them inside, hooking to effortlessly locate my g-spot and press rhythmically, in time with his thrusts.

“Oh my god…” I continue to sob as tears prick my eyes. He’s going to make me cry, just like he promised.

“Who makes you feel this good, sweet girl?”

“Oh fuck! Just you!”

“Rub that clit for me. I w-wanna feel it – feel you squeeze my dick and my fingers. Do it, baby.”

I snake an arm down my body and the moment the pads of my fingers make contact with my swollen clit, I cum. It’s so sudden and intense and I can feel my entire body tremble with the force of it; my cunt and ass clinch in time as Rick sings my praise –

“Oh fuuuck – oh Christ, that’s it baby you – you’re g-g-gonna make me fuckin’ cum!”

He leans over again to grip my shoulders, ramming my entire body back, impaling me on his dick. Then he groans and collapses on top of me as he fills me up.

Soon, I feel him going flaccid inside me and my stomach rolls with guilt. The afterglow is always so short.

“You should leave now,” I say, feeling desperate to get him off and out of me.

He doesn’t reply. As he peels his body from mine, I feel him slip from my ass along with what feels like a gallon of his cum. My stomach rolls again. I rise from the bed and stand, pulling my robe from the back of the closet door and watch as he hastily gets dressed. A moment later, he’s shooting a portal at my bedroom wall.

“Yeah. See ya,” he says, stepping through.

----------

I removed the goggles with shaky hands. Holy shit. She was fucking Rick and obviously had been for a while. She was cheating on Chris and didn’t even have the decency to use one of the guest bedrooms. Was that the life I would be living right now if my Chris hadn’t been killed? Would I have Chris but not appreciate him to the point that I’d have an affair with Rick? My entire life, I thought I was a good person; that I tried my best to do the right things. It had all been bullshit.

The thought occurred to me that there are multiple versions of me who are currently banging a Rick. I could scan through dimensions and find out how many of my counterparts are so fucking ungrateful of their loving husbands that they willingly fall into the arms of Rick Sanchez. I could torture myself with it all night long. All week long. All year long. Until the day I fucking croak.

Rick had warned me that this was a bad idea. Did he know? What an idiotic question. Of course – of course – he knew.

To be continued…

P.S. A huge thank you to @porkchop-ao3 for letting me borrow her inter-dimensional goggle technology tweaks from her amazing story Someone Else’s Shoes, which you can find under her Ao3 account username PorkChop.

#rick and morty #rick sanchez x reader #rick sanchez #fanfiction #assimilation #sister smith series

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write-havoc · 6 years

Text

This Is How I Disappear Ch. 55

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

Fandom: The Walking Dead AU

Pairing: Negan/Original Female Character

Status: Ongoing

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

Intended for readers 18+ of age only

Masterlist

Some time passes at The Sanctuary. After Negan and Chuck finally get back home, they get back to their normal lives. Though there are a few changes.

Negan orders extra guards to stay upstairs on the fifth floor. In addition to Sam and José, Arat and Laura are added to the rotation. José and Sam keep their same post on the stairwell while Arat and Laura cover the freight elevator on the other end of the hall, making it so there are always two guards on the floor at all times. That is, when Chuck is upstairs.

When Chuck is downstairs, the woman on duty follows her like a bodyguard. It annoys Chuck at first, but she understands why Negan asked them to do it. And Laura and Arat do their best to be unobtrusive, which Chuck appreciates. They stay just far enough away that Chuck has her space, but close enough that they could step in if need be.

Even though Negan is true to his word and doesn’t leave the gates, he still has to do his job around The Sanctuary everyday, which leaves Chuck completely alone upstairs. For the first time in her life, she actually doesn’t enjoy being by herself so much. She figures it probably has something to do with being locked up in that room at Eldritch’s compound, completely alone for most of the day. Or maybe it’s just that she’s changing to be more open to people. For the first few days back, she would walk the hall outside her and Negan’s apartment. She’d start at one end and talk to either José or Sam, then walk to the other end and talk to Laura or Arat, whoever was on duty. Then she’d turn around and do it all over again.

But that is still too claustrophobic. So instead, she starts to walk around The Sanctuary. For hours she would just walk and observe everyone around her. People would talk to her pleasantly, but they’d also fuss about her. Asking her if she’s okay, if she needs to eat or needs water, coming up to her with chairs so she can “rest”. She knows they mean well, but it’s still kind of annoying.

She visits with the former wives in all their different rooms, too. Sherry has taken to working in the kitchen full-time and living with Dwight. And Chuck admits that Sherry looks happier with him. Kayla and her boyfriend Felix have gotten more serious, so she decides to permanently move in with him. Though she still makes routine visits to Chuck to check up on her and the baby when she’s not on shift in the infirmary or checking on Amber, who is nearing the end of her pregnancy. Frankie and Tonya get their own room on the third floor, their relationship together more than official now. Tonya spends her days at her chair in the marketplace giving haircuts and Frankie has her massage table set up nearby. She tells Chuck that business is good; there are always people willing to spend their points to feel a little better.

Chuck decides that she needs something to actually do with her time, so she starts teaching the kids music again. When they seem so genuinely happy to have her back, Chuck swears that her heart swells. She enjoys teaching the children so much that she starts giving lessons in the afternoon to anyone that wants it, no matter the age. Some people that come in have absolutely no music experience, but some actually do. Class time is divided up into teaching those that need it and jamming out with those that can play.

That, too, fills Chuck’s heart with joy. They’re all in a place now where those little things, like music and art and fun , can come back. People aren’t just worried where the next meal is coming from. Or whether or not they’ll get attacked during the night. People are actually living.

Everyone is also enjoying the cemented alliance between the groups and the ease of passage between them. Negan and Rick have doubled down on fencing and barriers at the borders of the entire area, keeping the biters out. It’s not exactly free of the dead, but Negan’s domain is much safer than it once was.

The “dead zones”, as Negan calls them, are serving their purpose. The noise making devices that Eugene engineered are doing their job of drawing the dead into places that they can’t get out of, thus making the surrounding areas clear without any extra effort from Negan’s or Rick’s men. And once the temperature dips further, thus freezing the biters, all of them will be taken care of.

Because there are daily journeys between the groups, there is a freer exchange of goods and services. Alexandria has stopped needing support from The Sanctuary, so their relationship is based more on equal trade, just like everyone else. If someone at The Sanctuary needs metal goods, they trade for that with the blacksmith at Hilltop. If someone at Hilltop needs new clothes, the seamstress at Alexandria will oblige. And they all have unofficial areas that they scavenge from so there are always new goods to trade. Alexandria gets the north, Hilltop gets the west, and The Sanctuary gets the south and east.

Though Hilltop is still “owned” by Negan, it’s mostly autonomous. Negan trusts Jesus to run the place well, and he has been. He gives Negan updates everyday and Negan gives his advice, but that’s pretty much the end of his involvement there. Nevertheless, Negan takes credit for their success under him, and no one is inclined to question him.

Though Chuck has been spending time downstairs, she does enjoy the occasional quiet day in her room with her cats lounging all over the place. Negan moved the animals back upstairs pretty much immediately, though he stipulated that they were not allowed in the nursery. Ever. Chuck conceded as long as she could cuddle with them in their bed. And despite what Negan says about the “furry bastards”, he still lets Moe curl up on his lap every time he sits in his office looking at the inventory sheets.

One day, while Chuck is walking around the marketplace, she sees a large whiteboard and gets an idea. After asking Arat nicely to carry it upstairs and help her put it up on the wall in the nursery, Chuck gets to work on it. Just as she’s finishes up, she hears Negan come home.

“Come in here, Negan,” she shouts. “I want to show you something.”

Negan steps into the room and gives her a kiss before turning to Chuck’s creation on the wall. She has turned the large whiteboard into a calendar, starting with the month of November (the current month) and ending in April with important days like Thanksgiving, winter solstice, Christmas, New Years, Easter, and the first day or spring all highlighted. But the most important day is more prominent than all the rest. April 2.

“You got my fuckin’ birthday wrong,” Negan says casually.

“What?” Chuck scrunches up her face in confusion. “I don’t have your birthday on here at all. I don’t actually know your birthday, I guess.”

“Then what’s that?” He points to the extra special date.

Chuck smiles wide and rests her hands on her belly. “That’s the due date.”

“Oh, shit!” Negan places his hand on Chuck’s belly, too and turns back to the calendar. “April second, huh?” He chuckles happily.

“When’s your birthday?” Chuck asks, realizing that she probably should’ve already known it.

“April seventh ,” he responds with a smirk. “We’ll be celebrating two fuckin’ birthdays in one week.”

“The baby might not come on that day exactly. She’ll decide when she’s ready.”

“Well, we’re gonna have a big fuckin’ party, regardless. Might be a dual birthday party.” He moves to stand behind Chuck and wraps his arms around her belly.

“So, how old are you gonna be anyway? Fifty......eight?” Chuck teases.

“The fuck you talking about, little girl? I’m not fuckin’ fifty eight!”

Chuck can’t help but laugh hard at her joke.

“I’ll be forty seven, for your fuckin’ information,” Negan fakes offense, causing Chuck to giggle more. “You know, you shouldn’t be laughing, Chuck. You’re the one fucking my old ass.”

They both pause then start to laugh together as Negan’s words sink in.

“Get your mind outta the fuckin’ gutter, perv,” Negan jokes. “I didn’t mean it that way.” He pauses. “Though I’m not opposed to the idea,” he tacks on with a smirk.

Chuck turns around in his arms and smacks his chest. “Negan!” she chides, but she’s still laughing.

He chuckles then shrugs his shoulders innocently. “What? You know, I’m pretty sure we got some strapons in storage you could use.”

“Why on earth would you have strapons in storage?”

“The guys ran across an untouched sex shop and brought the whole fuckin’ thing back a while ago.”

“Really?” Chuck asks a little incredulously.

“Yeah. That shit’s just been sitting there this whole time. But it did come in fuckin’ handy, I guess.”

Chuck scrunches up her face trying to think of how stuff from a sex store would be handy in any other way but the obvious one.

Negan chuckles at her, apparently picking up on her confusion. “When we destroyed Eldritch’s shit, I had the guys suit up in latex sex suits so they could gut up and get through the fuckin’ biters without getting sick.”

Negan had never told Chuck the details about the assault on Eldritch’s compound and she never really asked. The details aren’t important. The only thing that Chuck cares about is the fact that Eldritch isn’t a threat anymore.

“Latex sex suits?” Chuck asks in confusion. She’s never heard of such a thing.

Negan laughs again. “Yeah. Suits made of fuckin’ latex so it covers all your skin.”

Chuck tries to picture it. “How is that sexy? One of the best parts of sex is feeling your skin on mine. I don’t think I could do it all covered up. With latex, no less.”

Negan just smiles at her for a moment.

“What?” she asks.

“You’re just so goddamn cute.” Negan leans in to kiss her.

Chuck can tell by Negan’s movements that he’s going to want more, but she has something else she wants to talk to him about. “Wait.” She pushes him away slightly. “Before we get too far, I want to talk to you about something.”

Negan groans.

“It’s not bad.”

“It means we’re not fucking right now, so, yeah, it’s bad.”

Chuck gives Negan an unimpressed look, which makes him let out a sigh. He moves to the doorway and holds his arm out, gesturing for Chuck to cross the threshold back into their bedroom. She walks forward and sits on the edge of the bed. Negan follows suit, sitting beside her.

“So, what’s on your mind?” Negan asks.

Chuck takes a deep breath and lets it out, nervous about what she’s going to talk about. “I love the nursery,” she starts.

“Okay...?” Negan responds. “Is that it? Can we fuck now?”

“Negan,” she bites back.

“Okay, okay. Sorry.”

“I just wanted to say... I love that you got all those pictures of my family for our daughter to see. Because she’ll never get the chance to meet her grandparents, but she can still know their faces. She’ll still know my family. Where she came from.”

“Yeah,” he replies softly. But there is some confusion behind it.

Chuck continues tentatively. “But she didn’t just come from me. She comes from you, too. A-And I know you have those pictures and things in your closet. I’d like to frame some of them and put them-“

“I don’t have any pictures of my family, Chuck. My father was a fucking monster and... I don’t have any pictures of my mom.”

“Lucille was your family. And Simon, too.”

Negan just stares back at Chuck. “Why would you-“ He stops and rakes his hand through his hair.

“Lucille was a big part of your life. I don’t want to hide that from our daughter.”

“Do you realize-“ He huffs out a breath. “You want our kid to know I was a piece of shit husband?”

Chuck doesn’t know how to respond to that. “I just want her to know your past. My past. Our past. She’s not gonna live the kind of life we had. She’s not gonna have high school dances and field trips. Go to college. It’ll be completely foreign to her. But I want her to know about it. And, no , I don’t particularly want to tell her about your... indiscretions. But I don’t want to hide your whole life either.”

Negan stands and starts to pace slowly without saying anything.

“There has to be good memories in that box, too,” Chuck says quietly. “Memories you’d want to share with her.”

Negan turns back to Chuck, but again, he doesn’t say anything. He slowly moves over to the closet and finds his memento box. He sits back down beside Chuck with the box in his lap.

“I really don’t know why I even took this shit. It was... right after me and Simon got this place cleaned up. Before we had any other fuckin’ people here. I decided to go back to my house by my-fuckin’-self.” He starts to root through the box. “The place was fuckin’ trashed. Nothing of use was left. Pantry was empty. My tools, gone. My fuckin’ Impala, gone. Handgun I kept in the closet...” He shakes his head. “I shoved all my personal shit everyone left behind in a bag. I just... I don’t fuckin’ know. I didn’t need this shit. But I had found a fuckin’ place to live and I just...”

“You wanted part of your old life with you,” Chuck answers for him.

Negan nods slightly. “When I was rooting around the fuckin’ closet, I found my old baseball bat. Lucille bought it for me when I first got the job at the school.” He sighs. “She said I was gonna ‘Knock it outta the park’.” He chuckles sadly.

“That’s ...Lucille?” Chuck questions softly.

Negan nods. “Barbed wire came a little later. When more people came. The name came later, too. I don’t fuckin know why I did that. It’s fucking insane, isn’t it?”

“No.” Chuck smooths her hand over the back of Negan’s head. “You were hurting. Processing everything.”

Negan finds a picture of him and Simon. They’re teenagers, probably fourteen or fifteen, and it looks like they’re just hanging out in the woods. But they’re laughing.

Negan looks at the picture and starts to talk. “Simon’s family lived next door to the first foster family I stayed with after my mom died. Me and him were fast fuckin’ friends. Never experienced anything like it before or since. We just got each other immediately. Shit, I spent more time at Simon’s house than where I was supposed to be. I guess that’s why my foster family got rid of me. Said I wasn’t ‘bonding’.” He shrugs. “I moved across town after that. But me and Simon still fuckin’ hung out. Got ourselves into trouble more than once.” He chuckles.

“I bet you got into trouble,” Chuck comments with a giggle.

Negan’s face turns more somber. “Simon was really the only person I fuckin’ cared about after my mom died. Before Lucille, anyway. I lived with six different families before I turned eighteen.” He chuckles humorlessly. “But the whole fuckin’ sob story of my life got me some kickass grants and scholarships. That’s pretty much the only reason I even went to fuckin’ college.”

Chuck feels a sadness with what Negan has said. He never had a real family in his life. That fact is probably why having a child is so important to him. He wants to make the family he never had.

Negan pulls out his college diploma. “Look at this shit.” He opens it up so she can see. “What a fuckin’ waste.”

“It wasn’t a waste. You taught a ton of kids for a long time because of that. It meant something.” She takes it from him and sets it down beside her. “We’re putting it up in the office.”

“We are?”

“Yes.”

Negan finds a picture of him standing in some sort of museum and shows Chuck. “Baseball Hall of Fame. Me and Lucille took a trip to New York for our ten year anniversary. She wanted to see Wicked.” He shrugs a shoulder. “It actually wasn’t too fuckin’ bad.”

“So you made her go to the baseball museum because she made you go to a play?”

“Not at all. Lucille fuckin’ loved baseball. Her dad was a goddamn nut about it. Took her to games all the time when she was a kid. Baseball was the only thing me and him could fuckin’ talk about. He hated my goddamn guts, otherwise. But when we talked baseball... It was like he forgot he hated me so much. He even showed me his baseballs signed by the fuckin’ greats. Babe Ruth, Mickey Mantle, Joe DiMaggio, Cy Young, Willie Mays,” he rattles off.

Chuck listens intently, but can’t manage to mirror Negan’s enthusiasm about the men he’s talking about. Especially because she doesn’t know who they are. “I recognize some of those names...” She grimaces a little at her lie. “One of those names.”

“What?!” Negan responds, shocked at her lack of baseball knowledge.

Chuck shrugs. “You know I’m not into sports.”

“You should still know the fuckin’ greats!”

Chuck giggles. “You’ll have to teach me.”

After going through some other pictures and keepsakes, he finally pulls out his wedding picture, though he doesn’t really look at it.

“It’s okay, Negan,” Chuck whispers as she rubs his back. “I know this isn’t easy.”

Negan takes a deep breath and looks at the picture, staring at it in silence for a few minutes. “I’m glad you made me fuckin’ do this,” he says quietly and touches Lucille’s face in the picture.

Chuck is shocked. She expected him to fight her on this. And definitely not be happy about it. “Really?”

“Yeah. I never wanted to think about... Lucille... because all I could see was her in her hospital bed. Or the look on her face when I’d come home from fucking some other girl. But you were fuckin’ right. There are good memories here.” He lets out a sigh. “I just gotta let myself remember them.”

After a moment, he pulls out a picture that Chuck recognizes. It’s the picture her mother took of her and Negan at her graduation.

“This,” she takes the picture from his hand, “This was in my house, wasn’t it?”

Negan nods. “I didn’t want to put it up. Thought maybe it made me look like a fuckin’ pedo.”

Chuck laughs. “It’s an innocent picture!” She looks at it closely. “It’s pretty much the only picture of me I ever liked. I took a copy of it with me to college. And then to my apartment in the city.”

Chuck studies the picture then looks back up to Negan. The smile on her face falls when she sees that his own face looks sad.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“I should’ve kept in touch with you.”

She casts her gaze downward. “It’s okay, Negan. I didn’t expect you-“

“You kept this photo with you? At college? After?”

“Yeah,” she answers, a little confused at why Negan is questioning it.

“Did you have any fuckin’ friends after high school?”

Chuck shrugs, not wanting to admit that she really didn’t.

Negan lets out a huff and shakes his head. “You wouldn’t’ve held onto that damn picture if you had anyone else.”

“I was fine, Negan. I did four years of college in three, so... I was busy. I didn’t need friends.”

“Goddamnit, Chuck,” he mutters. “I should’ve kept in fuckin’ touch.”

“What would we have done together? I was a teenager and you were... married ! With a job and a house. I couldn’t exactly relate. And would you have gone to frat parties with me?”

“We could’ve-“ he scratches his cheek. “I could’ve taken you to goddamn baseball games. Made sure you were doing alright. Made sure you were happy. I shouldn’t have just dropped you.”

“Well, why didn’t you keep in touch?”

Negan lets out a heavy breath and starts to answer Chuck’s question.

——— Negan’s POV ———

— Seven years ago —

“You all ready, honey?” Lucille says to me as I walk toward our front door. She’s got her fuckin’ coffee cup in her hand, just about ready to leave herself. She’s got a house to show in an hour.

“Yeah,” I kiss her on the cheek when she walks to me. “I should be back for dinner. At least I fuckin’ hope I will. If this thing goes long, I might just fuckin’ kill myself.”

She laughs at me. “Come on! This is a good thing.”

I guess she’s fuckin’ right. I got invited to this goddamn “Sports and Education” conference because my baseball team went pretty fuckin’ far last year. Almost won the division. And there’s gonna be coaches and educators from all over the state there.

But I hate shit like that. It’s just guys fuckin’ jerking themselves off to the crowd and saying how fuckin’ amazing they are. I don’t have to talk about winning to show that I’m fuckin’ successful. I fuckin’ win and that’s that.

However... the school kinda lost their shit over it, thinking that my appearance at this stupid ass conference will translate into more money for the school. So I was gently persuaded to attend. And by “gently persuaded”, I mean Principal Addams told me that she’d personally kick my ass if I fucked this up. And she probably would. She’s a fuckin’ hard ass.

That means I gotta fuckin’ schmooze the right people. Which I fuckin’ hate. But whatever. I gotta do it.

And I may have a little bit of an ulterior motive in wanting to go there.

This conference is at the University of Virginia in Charlottesville. My own alma mater. And it just so happens to be the college that my former fuckin’ favorite student attends.

Chuck.

I’ve been thinking about her a lot lately. I don’t fuckin’ know why. The last time I fuckin’ saw her was months ago right after she graduated. But recently, she’s been on my mind for some reason. And I can’t really do much about it without looking really fuckin’ weird. I can’r exactly fuckin’ call her up outta the blue. “ Hey, barely legal former student. It’s me, the guy that fuckin’ taught you. Yeah, I’m still twenty years older than you and really have no business talking to you anymore. How’s things? ”

Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.

I’ve seen her mom a few times out and about and I always casually ask how Chuck is. She says she’s good, so that’s all I really know. That should be enough for me to know. I mean, I’ve seen former students before. I’ve asked about them, what they’re doing. And, sure, I wanna know they’re doing good. In a friendly sorta mentor kinda fuckin’ way.

But Chuck is different. And it’s really fuckin’ confusing for me.

This is a fuckin’ recent thing, too. And I don’t know why exactly shit changed. Chuck was my student. She was my student . And that was it. It always was. But now when I think about her... it’s just... confusing .

I don’t want to fuck her. I mean, it’s not like I would hate to fuck her. But... Shit, I shouldn’t even think about it. She’s got that fuckin’ baby face! But that body of hers...

Goddamn, only a fuckin’ perv would think that way.

No, it’s not like that! ...Is it?

No. It’s not like I think about burying my dick in her like I do with most women. Yeah, I know, that’s fuckin’ sexist. But I can’t help it. I love fucking women. And women love fucking me. But eighteen is way too fuckin’ young. Shit, I haven’t fucked an eighteen year old since I was... twenty two, probably. And I sure as hell ain’t twenty two now. I’m pushing fuckin’ forty!

It’s ...different with Chuck, anyway. I don’t know how to describe it. It’s... like I said, confusing .

I’m just hoping seeing Chuck again will answer some fuckin’ questions. If I immediately wanna fuck her brains out, then I guess I’m turning into a perv in my old age. That’s not ideal, but I guess I can fuckin’ deal with it. Not that I’d try to fuck her, really. I mean... I don’t know. It just seems wrong. If I see her and it’s just the same protective, teacher/student shit, then that’s that. I’ve just been fuckin’ thinking about her because I’m worried and haven’t seen her in a while. Then I can stop freaking the fuck out about it.

It’s been fuckin’ weird these last few weeks. I don’t wanna tell anyone about it. Everyone at school is completely fuckin’ out. If I say I’ve been thinking about a female student, even a former one, shit would get investigated. And I’m a little too ashamed to tell Simon. He’s got a niece Chuck’s age; I don’t want him thinking I go for girls that young.

Lucille... I can’t fuckin’ tell Lucille. How the fuck could I? “ Oh yeah, Lucille, I’ve been constantly thinking about some girl. Wanna discuss it? ” Yeah, no. She hasn’t even talked about Chuck since... probably the last time we fuckin’ saw her. Like, not at all. I don’t know if maybe she knows...? Nah. She can’t. I haven’t fuckin’ talked about Chuck either, so why would Lucille think something’s up?

The drive to Charlottesville takes about two hours, but it feels like fuckin’ forever. I just keep thinking about what I’m gonna do when I get there. Should I look Chuck up? That seems weird. Should I just walk around campus and try to run the fuck into her? Like it was an accident?

I let out a huff and turn the radio up in my truck to try to drown out the thoughts. “I’m fuckin’ horrible,” I mutter to myself.

The conference... confers , I guess. And I schmooze all the right people, so I don’t have to worry about getting my ass kicked tomorrow by a sixty year old woman when I go back to work. The whole thing was enough to distract me, but now that it’s over, I’m back to kinda freaking the fuck out.

I walk around campus aimlessly, sorta hoping that I’ll come across Chuck randomly. That seems like the most fuckin’ organic way to... I don’t know, get this shit started. But I don’t run into her. I’m just about ready to throw in the towel and find a student directory when I see her walking a ways away.

She looks exactly the fuckin’ same. I mean, I guess it’s only been less than a year that I saw her last. That red hair of hers put up in those two buns she always wore. She’s dressed in tight jeans and a baggy hoodie with her backpack slung over her shoulder.

She must be done for the fuckin’ day because it looks like she’s headed back to where the dorms are. I start to walk quickly to catch up with her, but still trying to look fuckin’ casual.

My fuckin’ phone starts to ring, so I pull it out of my pocket without stopping. Lucille’s picture fills the screen and I push the button to silence the ring. But then something just fuckin’ tells me to answer it. So I do.

“Hey, baby,” I say as I slow a little, but don’t stop walking. Chuck is still in my sight, and I want to get to her before she gets to her dorm. Following a college girl to her room seems like a bad fuckin’ idea.

“ Negan? ” Lucille’s voice sounds weird.

I stop in my tracks. “What’s wrong.”

She clears her throat. “ I’m in the hospital. ”

“What?! Are you okay? What the fuck happened?”

“I-I collapsed at the house I was showing. The clients called the ambulance.” She lets out a breath. “The doctors are doing tests.”

“I’m leaving right the fuck now.” I turn away and walk in the opposite direction of where the fuck I was headed.

The whole ride to the hospital, the only thing I could think about was that I probably already know what the doctors are gonna fuckin’ find when I get there.

——— ———

“Her cancer had come back,” Negan explains with his head cast down.

“I’m sorry, Negan.” Chuck grabs his hand and holds it in her lap.

“She fought it so fuckin’ hard. And I was there every step of the fuckin’ way. We thought we beat it a few times. But...” He shakes his head. “I focused on Lucille then. I didn’t step out on her. Didn’t even fuckin’ think about it. That’s why I didn’t...” He lifts his head to look at Chuck with tear-filled eyes. “I could’ve still called you, at least.”

“No.” Chuck wipes his cheek. “You were exactly where you needed to be. You did right by Lucille in the end.”

“If I had kept in touch... I could’ve had you with me. You wouldn’t’ve gone through all that shit you did.”

“Negan,” Chuck shakes her head, “don’t feel guilty for things you had no control over. And just...” she cradles his face in her hands, “look to the future with me. The past is the past.”

Negan nods then wraps his arms around Chuck, holding her tight until long after the sun sets.

Because everyone had such a good time on Halloween, people ask for more holiday celebrations, the next one being Thanksgiving on November 26th. The community meal is all planned with as many traditional dishes they can manage. The most important dish, of course, being the turkey.

Max and his hunting party are very successful and manage to get about forty good sized turkeys, enough for everyone at The Sanctuary and the outposts to have some. There is even enough to send the excess to Hilltop to feed them. When Negan tells Jesus that he is going to be sending turkey his way, Jesus says that the Hillfolk would return the favor by making pumpkin pies. They get the pies all ready and send them along with some saviors to be cooked in The Sanctuary’s industrial ovens.

The day before the holiday is very busy for the kitchen, making sure that all the food is ready to be cooked the following day for the community meal. But Negan assures the kitchen workers that they will be rewarded with extra points for their extra effort.

The day is also busy for another reason. Amber goes into labor in the early afternoon. She requests that Chuck be present in the infirmary to help out with the delivery, and Chuck obliges, though she more often than not just stands back and allows Carson and Kayla to do their thing.

Chuck thought she was prepared for the experience, having read all the books that Carson had provided several times each, but she definitely was not. And it most certainly didn’t look like any childbirth she had seen from tv or movies. But of course, it’s all worth it in the end. It takes about two hours, but Amber births a healthy baby girl.

After the baby is cleaned and has some bonding time with her parents, Amber hands her new daughter to Chuck to hold. The baby fusses for a moment, but soon settles in Chuck’s arms.

“She’s so perfect,” Chuck whispers in awe, never having held a newborn before. “Look at those big blue eyes.” Chuck runs her hand over the soft tuft of hair on the top of the baby’s head. “And blonde hair, too.”

“She’s beautiful,” Kayla comments as she looks at the child.

Chuck doesn’t linger too long, knowing that Amber and Mark would like time alone with their baby. When she gets back upstairs, she’s delighted to see that Negan is cooking dinner.

“How’d it go?” he asks, still standing at the stove preparing their meal.

Chuck lets out a sigh of relief as she sits down at the the counter, thankful to get off her feet. “Really good. Everyone’s healthy.”

Negan turns back to peek at her. “You look fuckin’ tired.”

“My back just kinda hurts. And I’m starving.”

After they eat, they curl up on the couch and watch old dvds of The X Files.

“Fuck, Gillian Anderson was hot.”

Chuck shoots him a look. She is leaning on the opposite arm of the couch with her legs curled up beside her while Negan has his legs kicked up and crossed on an ottoman.

“What?” Negan glances at her and chuckles. “You know I got a fuckin’ thing for redheads,” he teases.

Chuck stretches out her leg to kick his thigh lightly.

“Oh, I’m not allowed to say some actress is hot?” he asks incredulously.

Chuck just shrugs, already aware of where this conversation is going to go.

Negan puts on a higher pitched voice. “‘God, Chris fuckin’ Whatevers-worths abs are ridiculous! Dean Winchester has jaw bones for days!”

Chuck can’t help but giggle at his impression of her, but she’s trying to look mad, even though his point has been made. She knows she does talk about various actors a lot.

He continues. “That dude from that shitty Superman movie is gorgeous .”

Chuck steels herself to give him her most serious look. “I’ll have you know, Dean Winchester does have jawbones for days,” she deadpans.

“Come here,” he teasingly growls and grabs her feet to start tickling them in his lap.

Chuck laughs uncontrollably. “Stop! No tickling!”

“Alright, alright.” He stops, but doesn’t remove his hands from her feet. Instead, he starts to rub them. “You know, I don’t say shit when you talk about all those fuckin’ hunky guys.”

“Well, it’s not like you have anything to worry about.”

“And you have to worry about Gillian Anderson circa 1996 coming here?”

Chuck laughs at the absurdity. “Point taken.”

He continues to massage her feet. “You know I got the biggest fuckin’ boner for you anyways.”

She giggles. “My husband, the poet.”

“What? That’s romantic as shit if you really think about it.”

The way Negan is rubbing the soreness out of her feet has Chuck thinking about what she did today. “Did you ever watch an actual birth?”

“I saw a video in college. It was kinda fucked up.”

“I know, right! Like... I felt really bad for Amber’s vagina.”

Negan laughs. “It seems fuckin’ insane that you’re gonna push a baby sized thing out of your tight ass pussy.”

“It kinda freaked me out. Like, there were all kinds of bodily fluids going on. And Amber was screaming in pain. It was just kinda intense. And I’m gonna experience all that, too.”

“You’ll get through it, baby girl. You’re tough as shit.”

“Amber’s baby is really cute, though,” she comments with a smile.

“They name her?”

“Yeah. Skyler Alice. Amber said Alice was her sister’s name.”

“Shit. I guess we should get on finding a fuckin’ name for our kid.”

Chuck shrugs a little. She’s been going over that very thing in her mind for a while, but she’s been a little worried that Negan won’t like the name she wants.

Negan looks up like he’s thinking. “It’s gotta be something cool, like ‘Negan’, but something cute like ‘Chuck’. Hmm.” He hums, still thinking.

“Uh.” Chuck clears her throat. “How about... umm. Well... I think I have a good name.”

“Well?” he prods when Chuck doesn’t actually say it.

“Madeline Rose.”

Negan’s face instantly drops, but he says nothing.

Chuck can feel her blood pool in her cheeks. “You don’t like it,” she says more as a statement than a question.

He just stares for a moment longer before speaking. “Madeline was my mom’s name.”

Chuck waits for him to say something else, but he doesn’t. And his reaction makes Chuck not want to admit that she knows that that’s his mother’s name. “So... you don’t like it?”

“I... didn’t say that.”

“I just... uh. I liked it. And I thought of ‘Rose’ for the middle name for my mom. ‘Cause she always smelled like roses. And also... you know, for Lucille, too. Since you said roses were her favorite.”

Negan still doesn’t say anything. He just blinks like he has to process it.

“But also, I wanted ‘Rose’ so I could call her ‘Rosie Cotton’.”

Negan finally cracks a smile. “It’s fuckin’ perfect.”

“Really?” Chuck exclaims. “You really like it?”

He smiles wide. “I fuckin’ love it.” He moves to lean over Chuck’s belly. “My little Madeline.” He softly strokes the baby bump with his fingers. “Our baby Maddie.”

The cafeteria is, of course, a little crowded because the entire Sanctuary is there for their Thanksgiving dinner. The whole thing goes off without a hitch, though. Each table of six is given a half of a turkey so they can carve it themselves, which made it easier on the kitchen workers.

Negan, naturally, is the one who carves the turkey at their table, which also includes Simon, Patty, Sherry, and Dwight. But before that happens, Negan stands to give a speech to the packed room.

“Today is fuckin’ Thanksgiving! And in the time before all this shit, we used this day to watch football, lounge around, and eat our fuckin’ weights in food. And, yeah, it was fuckin’ nice to get a few days off from work, but that’s not what the day was supposed to be about. This day was supposed to commemorate one group of people being fucking selfless enough to help another group just because it was the right thing to do. Those pilgrims were fuckin’ thankful on that day because they were starving and the Native Americans gave them food. And because of that, on this day, we are supposed to fuckin’ think about everything we have.

“We got food, we got a place to live, we got people and safety. We got families . Including the newest member of The Sanctuary that was just born fuckin’ yesterday.”

People in the room clap at the mention of the new baby, which makes Chuck smile. Despite the fact that there are a ton of people that live here, it still feels like everyone cares about each other. It’s a real close knit community.

“So,” Negan continues, “I am very fuckin’ thankful that we are all here. We went through a bit of a tough time, we lost some good people, but we are still. fucking. here! So, this may be our first Sanctuary Thanksgiving, but it sure as fuck isn’t gonna be the last! Let’s eat!”

The meal is absolutely perfect. The food is all delicious and conversation flows easily. Even though it isn’t in a family dining room, it really feels like a family meal to Chuck.

After Thanksgiving, the temperature turns colder fairly quickly. And it’s not only the change in weather that has Chuck needing new clothes. Her baby bump is continuing to expand in the weeks that pass.

Chuck finds out quickly that Negan absolutely loves taking care of her. It’s not like she didn’t already know that, but the further along in the pregnancy she gets, the more evident it is.

Negan practically forbids Chuck from putting on her own shoes. Plus, nightly foot rubs become the norm. Those foot massages always come after their nightly baths, where Negan gently washes Chuck’s skin and hair while she just relaxes. And, of course, Negan keeps her fed with homemade meals everyday.

Chuck certainly doesn’t mind the royal treatment.

As the days pass, people start to talk about Christmas. Four Christmases have passed since the world unofficially ended. Three of of those while The Sanctuary existed. People had told Chuck that some people had always celebrated Christmas, or whichever holiday they celebrated, but it was never widespread. This year, though, more people are looking forward to that special time of year.

Including Chuck. Even though she knows that this Christmas won’t compare to next year’s one, because that will be “baby’s first Christmas”, she’s still excited to spend it with the man she loves.

Chuck’s mother had always made a big deal of Christmas. Her family wasn’t exactly religious, but her mother had said that Christmas was about family and being with the ones you love. Those words had always stuck in Chuck’s mind every Christmas after the turn. After she lost everyone she had ever known.

And that last Christmas at the nursing home... It had almost broken her.

But now, she had Negan. And everything is perfect.

“Baby’s awake!” Chuck calls out from her seat on the couch. She has been feeling the movement in her belly pretty consistently, but Negan has yet to feel it. Chuck keeps telling him that it’s not uncommon, but she knows he’s disappointed.

Negan walks into their bedroom from the office. “Still kicking?” he asks as he sits beside Chuck on the couch.

“Yup.”

Negan sneaks his hand under Chuck’s shirt and places it on Chuck’s belly. He stays still for several moments, trying to feel the movement. “I can’t feel shit,” he comments dejectedly.

“You will, Negan. It might just be my uterus, you know. But you’ll be able to feel her eventually. Couple more weeks, tops.”

He sighs and pushes himself back into the couch.

Negan looks so sad that Chuck wants to make him feel better. “I’m sorry,” Chuck breaks the silence.

Negan turns his head to her. “It’s not your fault, sweetheart. I just wanna feel her.”

Chuck’s eyes flick to movement outside the window behind Negan. “It’s snowing!” The snowflakes reflect the light coming from the window and almost shine against the dark backdrop of the night sky.

Negan turns his head to the window. “It won’t stick. Still too fuckin’ warm.”

“We might have snow for Christmas, though.”

“Hmm,” is his unenthusiastic response.

“You’re not excited about it?”

“I’m not fuckin’ religious.”

“Neither am I, but I still can’t wait.”

Negan just shrugs.

“It’s going to be our first Christmas together,” she comments quietly.

Negan nods. “You’re right. We can have a nice and quiet fuckin’ Christmas together.” He pulls her into his side. “Just fuckin’ lounge around and not do shit. But fuck, maybe.”

Chuck giggles. “We have to watch Die Hard, though.”

Negan laughs. “Fuck yeah, we will! Die Hard is the shit!”

Even though Negan is a little blasé about the holiday, Chuck is determined to get him the perfect gift. That proves to be difficult in a time where there are no more stores. But Chuck has an idea.

She goes around and finds someone who used to be an artist, a woman named Sara. Arat is actually the one that pointed her out to Chuck, having known and worked with her for some time. The artist is a savior and has her own room on the fourth floor, which Arat leads Chuck to.

“Do you think you could draw a face of a person if I described it to you?” Chuck asks the woman, who is in her early thirties, thin, with a sleek black bob reminiscent of the ones from the twenties.

“Yeah, sure!” Sara responds enthusiastically. She moves over to her shelf and grabs a notebook and some pencils. “Is this for Negan?”

‘Yeah,” Chuck answers. “So I kinda need you to be discrete about it.”

Sara puts her hand up. “Say no more. This is a special commission and won’t leave this room.” She gestures to a desk in the room and Chuck sits on one chair as Sara takes the one next to it.

“So, um, can we do it like 8x10 so I can put it in a picture frame?”

“Yeah. You want it just black and white or color. I have colored pencils and pastels, too.”

“Uh... color,” Chuck decides. “That would be nice.”

Sara sets up her page and pencils. “So tell me what you want.”

Chuck goes on to describe the picture of Negan’s mother that she had seen once before in his office back at school. Though Chuck only saw the picture once, she never forgot the woman’s beautiful face. And she is fairly easy to describe because she pretty much looked like a feminine Negan.

Chuck knows that Negan loved his mother very much, but doesn’t have any pictures of her. When Chuck had Negan go through his mementos, she had hoped that the picture she saw all those years ago was there so they could hang it in the nursery, but it wasn’t.

Chuck couldn’t think of a better Christmas gift than to give Negan the chance to see his mother’s face again.

It takes a while, but in the end, Sara gets the rough picture finished. She tells Chuck she’ll work on it more and add the colors. Chuck makes sure to pick out the color of Negan’s mother’s skin, eyes, and hair, so Sara can get it right.

The day before Christmas, Negan is busy making sure everything is done that needs to be done. Though there won’t be a big community dinner like there was for Thanksgiving, Negan tells The Sanctuary that anyone that wants the day off to get together with friends and family can take it off and still get half pay. Anyone that still wants to work will get double pay. A lot of people decide to take the day off, so much of The Sanctuary won’t be working on Christmas.

Chuck uses Negan’s absence to her advantage and asks Simon and Laura to help her get a fake Christmas tree and decorations up to Negan’s office. She spends all day setting up the tree and putting the ornaments on it, though she saves the star for Negan.

Negan comes in just before dinner time and immediately stops in the doorway as he looks at what Chuck has done. Chuck, who has been sitting on the couch in the office waiting for Negan to arrive, just casually turns the page of the book she’s pretending to read, acting like she doesn’t know anything about the fully decked out Christmas tree.

After a moment, Negan finally closes the door and walks into the room. “What’s all this, sweetheart.”

Chuck stands up to meet him. “I don’t know. It just appeared,” she teases.

“Oh, did it, now?” Negan wraps his arms around Chuck and kisses her head.

“Yup. But the star still needs hanging.” She picks up the star and hands it to Negan. “I couldn’t reach.”

“I thought mysterious beings set this shit up.”

Chuck shrugs. “I guess they couldn’t reach either.”

Negan places the star on top and steps back to look at the tree. “Just tell me you didn’t carry all that shit up here by yourself.”

“Of course not.” She turns to look at him. “So you don’t like it?”

“Yeah, I like it.”

“Well, you’ve just been so... not in the Christmas spirit. I thought if I did this...” She gestures to the tree.

Negan hangs his head. “I’m sorry, baby girl. Christmas has always been fuckin’ rough for me. When I was a kid, the only thing I could look forward to on Christmas morning was a goddamn beating.”

Chuck kisses his cheek and hugs him. “I’m sorry, Negan.”

“My mom...” He clears his throat. “My father killed her in December. So, I’ve never really cared for the whole fuckin’ month, really.”

“Oh, Negan...” Chuck holds him tighter. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Negan wraps his arms around Chuck to hug her back. “I didn’t want to fuckin’ ruin it for you. But I just... I’m trying, but it’s fuckin’ hard, baby girl.”

“Well, next Christmas is gonna be completely different. Because were gonna have a little girl to spoil. It’ll all be about her.”

Negan smiles at that. “Damn right.” He gives Chuck a quick peck before heading off to the kitchen to make dinner.

After the meal, the couple cuddles up together back on the couch in the office in front of the tree, admiring the twinkling lights in the dim room. They sit there for hours, just talking easily and laying with each other. Negan shifts so he’s laying beside Chuck across the couch, his head turned down to Chuck’s belly and his hand placed softly atop it.

“You doing okay in there, Maddie?” he coos.

“She likes hearing your voice,” Chuck comments.

“Really?”

“She seems to move around more when you talk to her.”

Negan shifts so that his mouth is even closer to Chuck’s baby bump. “Come on, Maddie. Give daddy a good kick so I can fuckin’ feel it.”

Chuck places one hand on Negan’s head and the other on his hand on her stomach. “She’s not moving yet. She might be sleeping.”

Negan makes a disappointed noise, but doesn’t move. “When will she wake-“ Instead of finishing his sentence, he lets out a gasp.

At the same time, Chuck feels a strong kick. “Did you feel that?”

Negan looks up to Chuck with wide eyes and a huge smile. “I fuckin’ felt that!”

“You did?”

“Yeah!” He looks back down to her belly. “Do it again, Maddie.”

After a moment, the baby kicks again making Negan giggle. And that’s a noise Chuck has never heard come out of Negan before.

Chuck flicks her gaze to the clock on the wall. “Hey look.” She points to it and Negan follows her hand. “It’s past midnight. It’s Christmas.”

Negan laughs slightly, his grin still spread ear to ear. “This is the best fuckin’ Christmas I’ve ever had already.”

Negan keeps his hand on Chuck’s belly until the baby stops moving around. Chuck tells him that she probably really is sleeping now. With the excitement over, the couple gets ready for bed. While Negan is in the bathroom brushing his teeth, Chuck takes the opportunity to slip back out into the office and place her gift to Negan under the tree.

When Chuck wakes up the next morning, she finds Negan laying curled around her with his ear pressed into her belly.

“Morning,” she rasps, her voice heavy with sleep.

“Can I hear her heartbeat?” Negan suddenly asks without moving.

Chuck giggles. “I don’t know. Can you?”

“I mean, is it fuckin’ possible?”

“Yeah.”

“I can hear... It sounds like a fast fuckin’ heartbeat?”

“That’s her.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Holy shit. I can hear her heartbeat,” he says, his voice filled with wonder.

Even though Chuck is excited to give Negan his present, she lets him listen to their baby’s heartbeat for as long as he wants. When he finally sits back up, Chuck jumps out of bed and pulls him out with her.

“What are you so excited about?” Negan teases.

Chuck continues to pull him out to the office. “I want to see if Santa came.”

When Chuck gets to the tree, she sees two wrapped presents sitting underneath it, the one she put there last night and another one. She whips around to look back to Negan.

He shrugs. “Santa must’ve fuckin’ come.”

Chuck just stares back at him. She really didn’t expect him to get her anything, let alone surprise her with it. He must’ve put the present there this morning before she woke up.

“Well,” he gestures to the tree, “you wanna see what Santa got you?”

“You first.”

“No, you-“

Chuck cuts him off. “You first,” she says more forcefully.

Negan chuckles. “Okay, sweetheart.” He goes to the tree and picks up both presents, which are similar in size, handing Chuck’s to her before they both sit on the couch.

“I hope you like it.” Chuck smiles at him, but she’s nervous.

Negan seems to pick up on that fact and gives her a quick kiss. “I love it already.”

She giggles. “You haven’t even opened it, yet.”

“Doesn’t matter. You gave it to me so I fuckin’ love it.”

Chuck laughs again. “Open it.”

Negan rips through the wrapping paper and turns the picture frame around to see what it showcases. Chuck can’t immediately tell what he thinks of it; his face has so many emotions going on at the same time.

“What do you think?” Chuck asks, nervous about how he’s going to answer.

His mouth is agape as he stares down at the picture in his hands. “What- How...” He finally looks up to Chuck. “How did you get this?”

“I, uh... Back... in high school, I saw a picture of your mother in your office. And... I knew her name was Madeline because it was written on the back. That’s why I wanted that name. I didn’t tell you...”

Negan looks back down to the picture. “It’s...” He runs his fingers over the picture. “It looks just like how I remember her.”

“I thought we could put it in the nursery. If-If you wanted to.”

Negan lets out a soft sob and brings his free hand up to cover his face.

Chuck, thinking that he hates the picture so much that it upsets him, tries to take the picture out of his hand to get rid of it.

Negan doesn’t let her, though. He brings the picture tight to his chest as tears stream down his face.

The sight has tears welling up in Chuck’s eyes. “Are you okay, Negan? I’m sorry. I didn’t want to upset you.”

He breathes in a deep breath and wipes his face. “It’s so fuckin’ perfect,” he chokes out. “Thank you.” He wipes her cheek, too. “Thank you so much for this.”

Chuck gives him a little smile. “You like it?”

“I fuckin’ love it so goddamn much.” He leans forward to kiss her. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He clears his throat and composes himself. “Shit. I think I need to get you a better gift.” He laughs.

She picks up the box. “No. I’m gonna love it.” She pulls the paper off of the box and sees that Negan had gotten her a box set of the show Firefly including the movie Serenity.

“I remembered you liked it and I never fuckin’ watched it so... We can fuckin’ watch it together.”

Chuck smiles. “I love it.” She wraps her arms around Negan and hugs him tight.

Negan pulls her into his lap and hugs her back. “This is my most fuckin’ favorite day yet and it’s all because of you,” he whispers. “Merry fuckin’ Christmas, Chuck.”

She giggles. “Merry Christmas, my love.”

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