#can’t wait to finish senior year and get the FUCK outta this house

[mediocre--writing]

I loved your childhood friends ask! I have a headcannon that when they grow up and get to high school, Billy has a hard time because Steve is seeking out girls whereas Billy just wants him. Billy would definitely cry to his mom about it, especially when Nancy comes into the picture, his head in her lap as she plays with his hair and tries to soothe his broken heart and sobs. How could he fall in love with his straight childhood best friend?

it wasn’t steve’s fault.

billy had to keep reminding himself that it was in no way steve’s fault.

but as he sat in the camaro, waiting for steve to get out of his house, billy could see steve twirling the phone cord around his fingers while he blushed and talked to someone.

billy had been there for almost ten minutes. and steve had seen him, even waved at him, and was usually so punctual about leaving the house.

but it took a total of 25 minutes for steve to hang up the phone and come out to billy’s car.

“nance was talking to me about that party friday, you know the one? but yeah she wanted us to go together and so...”

“so you wanna drive her to the party. steve, she’s your girl, you gotta take her,”

steve sighed out in relief, “we’ll go to the next one together, b, alright?”

“of course,”

they hung out that afternoon but billy didn’t feel as up for it as he was when he was getting ready.

steve was constantly talking about nancy or the party and what he should wear. billy wanted to beat his face in.

it wasn’t for any other reason than he was being annoying. steve and billy were hanging out. that was the plan. it wasn’t steve, billy, and the constant thought of nancy wheeler hanging out.

they drove around for a while, which was nice, and they sang to music, and billy felt settled by steve’s semi-raspy singing voice.

he felt a bit better about losing steve to nancy until he went to drop steve off. it wasn’t anything that happened, just what he said:

“thanks for being so cool about the party. maybe nance and i can introduce you to heather, she’s super nice and i think she likes you!”

billy forced an easy smile on his face while he looked at steve, “sure, t, that would be nice,”

then steve left and billy waited until he got into the house before driving off like a bat outta hell.

he didn’t go straight home. he went to the gas station, filled up the tank, bought three packs of cigarettes, and a candy bar before driving around for the remainder of the night, until about 12.

steve never listened anymore.

in the car, billy had been talking about how he had found a second job at the pool and his coworker, heather, was really sweet.

then steve brings her up at the end of the night like he came up with her out of nowhere? did he not listen to a word billy had said all night?

and nancy. nancy prissy-motherfucker wheeler.

who does she think she is? ramming her way into their group, pretending to be all shy and sweet and cutesy when she just wants steve.

and the way she thinks she’s better than everyone because she’s taking next-grade level clases.

well guess what, wheeler, so am i!! you’re nothing special!!

as billy finished off the last cigarette of the second pack, he reached into the passenger seat to grab for the third pack when he realized how shaky his hands were.

glancing around the car, he noted that it was 11:45, three and a half hours since he’d left steve’s house. and he was going 94 on a shady backroad.

billy loved the feel of speeding, but knew his mother would whip his ass if he did.

rather than open a new pack, billy decreased his speed (to 70, but it was better than 100) and started driving home.

he rolled all the windows down completely, hopefully getting some of the smell out.

when he’d pulled into his driveway, his mom was standing on the porch, trying to shove the key into the lock while balancing her purse, diner leftovers, and another bag in her arms.

billy quickly got out of the car, leaving the pack of cigarettes in there and grabbing the candy bar before walking up the steps and taking the takeout boxes out of her hands.

“thank you, sweet boy,” she smiled as she finally got the key in the lock

they walked into the house quietly, setting all of their stuff down.

billy discarded his jacket in the coat closet while she had gone to change out of her diner uniform into comfy pajamas.

billy moved to the kitchen to take plates and cups down, setting them on the dining table suit for three people, maximum.

he opened the take out boxes and moved each of their dinners onto plates before filling the glasses with ice and water.

“thank you, baby,”

she pecked him on the forehead as he sat down at the table, then took her normal seat and began eating.

“how was your day?”

“better than yours,”

billy’s face scrunched up a little at her comment as she took a bite of her burger.

“you still smell like smoke, plus you were meeting with steve at 6, so you’ve been out for quite a while...”

“it’s nothing to worry about,” billy kept holding his burger rather than take a bite out of it, the smoking having ruined his appetite.

“billy,”

“promise, it’s nothing to worry about,”

“alright. don’t you both have that party friday?”

“why does everyone care about this stupid party!?” billy said, louder than he meant to.

“who’s ‘everyone’?”

“nobody, mom,”

“oooh, you’re all grumpy, calling me ‘mom’ and shit. why don’t you check the attitude by tomorrow morning, mkay?”

billy nodded and took a bite of his food, “sorry,”

“it’s alright, but you can’t get angry at me for something i didn’t do, billy,”

billy nodded and she got up to clear her finished plate, rinsing it then coming back to where billy was still eating.

she held his face gently in her hands and placed a long kiss on his forehead, “try to get a good nights sleep, hon,”

she walked to the back of the house, where her bedroom was, and shut the door, leaving billy with most of his dinner still on his plate and heaviness in his heart.

billy made it through the rest of the school week. the weather was warming up, nearing the end of the school year, and the days were pretty easy.

but he was avoiding steve. well, really, he was avoiding the priss, and since she was always with steve, he was avoiding him by default.

and it didn’t feel any better avoiding steve when every time he did see him, he was holding flowers for her, or picking her up from behind, or talking real close to her face all sweet.

the worst part was that steve didn’t seem all to fazed by not seeing billy those four days.

and it hurt. it hurt that, apparently, steve meant more to billy than billy meant to steve. it hurt that the priss could replace billy so quickly.

and so billy was getting agitated. his mom kept working late shifts and billy was working on training for his lifeguard job and homework and it all felt like too much was going on and he didn’t have steve there to distract him.

so, by complete accident, he got into a fight. a big one. with a senior.

for a junior, billy could probably pass as an actual adult, and had the muscles and fighting skills to prove it.

the senior wasn’t too far off either, though.

billy got knocked into (by accident) in the hall while he was watching steve and the priss and just... snapped.

he and the boy were both losers of the fight, neither looking better than the other and neither having been declared winner. plus, they were both marched off to the principals office at the end of the day.

billy, out of the corner of his eye, saw steve watching him get marched off to the front offices, but didn’t care to look and see his face.

more so, the disappointment that would be there. steve hated when he got angry and fought. he hadn’t gotten into a fight since freshman year, so what happened now?

billy’s mom, having been called in from work, seemed as if she was on fire when she came into the building.

she was a taller woman, had broad shoulders and a glare that rivaled billy’s. in short, she was intimidating as fuck (even in her cute 50s work uniform)

billy couldn’t look her in the eye.

after they’d finished with the principal (two day suspension for both boys), billy and his mom walked out to his car.

“where’d you park?” billy grumbled.

“i had christopher drop me off so i could make sure that you would be going straight home after this,”

they made it to the blue camaro, both standing on the drivers side door.

“mom—“

“keys!” she held her hand out and billy stared at her, “now!”

he fumbled in his jean jacket pocket before handing her the keys, walking around to the passenger door and getting in.

they drove the speed limit the whole way home, not talking and not listening to music. just the rumble of the engine as they sat in silence, both seething with different types of anger.

they pulled up to the house, both getting out and going to the door, unlocking it and billy tried storming off to his room before he was called back.

“what!”

“first of all, loose the ‘tude,” she gestured for him to sit on the couch as she walked back and forth in front of the coffee table. “second of all, no party friday.

“now, what the hell is wrong with you? huh? i didn’t raise you to punch a kid for accidentally bumping you in the hall and i most definitely never taught you to talk back to me!

“i get it, billy. we all have bad days or weeks or whatever but we don’t scream at other people or start fights because we feel angry! do you understand that?”

“yes, ma’am,”

“now, why don’t you tell me why you’ve been all ‘hormonal teenager’ for the past week. well, the past month you’ve been weird, so start from the beginning,”

billy took a few deep breaths, “mom, i really don’t wanna—“

“no, we’re gonna talk. i took the whole day off work so we could fix this, so we are gonna talk and we are gonna figure this out, because you’re not you, billy. you are sweet and smiley and funny and you’ve been a little shit recently,”

billy smiled a little bit at his moms crude language, something most parents would frown upon.

“i’m pretty sure that steve and i aren’t really friends anymore. not like we used to be, at least,” billy scrunched up his nose, a tell that meant he was pretending he wasn’t about to start crying.

“why do you think that? you and steve are inseparable, have been since the day you met,”

“he got a girlfriend,” billy was staring just over his mom’s head, pretending he was looking at her. “and he hasn’t been...”

“hasn’t been what?”

he rolls his eyes, “i’m gonna sound like an asshole,”

“you are a little asshole, just say it,”

“he doesn’t pay attention to me anymore. all he talks about is the priss and how their relationship is going. i love him, mom, you know i do, but i can’t hear another word about her! i hate her!”

“why? is she mean to steve?”

“not mean mean, but, like, i talked to some of the guys we hang out with and they think steve’s been weird recently too. he doesn’t do anything without her and he���s different. i can’t explain it, he’s just not the same steve,”

“billy, it’s his first love, he’s gonna be all sappy for her and forget about his friends, it’s just how it is most of the time,”

“no! it’s not ‘just how it is’ because steve and i aren’t just friends, we’re closer and she’s just pulling him away! he doesn’t even care that she is!”

“billy,”

“you don’t understand!”

“i do, i get it completely, but you’re teenagers and you’re gonna get upset. i’m surprised you and steve have made it this far without having a big fight yet,”

“but we aren’t supposed to have big fights! he’s supposed to listen to me and i’m supposed to listen to him! we get each other and he knows me better than anyone! he’s not like my other friends, he’s—he’s steve—and i can’t loose him, mom,

“he was the first kid i really got to hang out with when you kicked dad out, and he helped me through that. we’re close! i can’t just lose him now, after everything!”

“billy, baby,” he looked up to her, teary eyes and all, “what are you really thinking about right now?”

“i think... i think i like steve, like, i like like steve,”

“i know, baby,”

billy’s head shot up to look at her eyes, “you—“

“billy, you’ve loved steve since the day you met, it’s harder not to notice,”

billy starts breathing deeper then, and his mom moves to sit on the couch, pulling him into her chest as she plays with his hair while he cries quietly about losing his best friend and crush.

“it hurts so bad, momma,”

she shushes his broken voice and continues to play with his hair, “i know, baby, i know,” she tears up along with him.

they stay like that until the school day ends, then when the sun goes down.

billy ends up falling asleep on the couch that night. she gets up to get the knitted blanket off of an adjacent chair and drapes it over his body, not being able to cover all of his legs, but staying there with him all night.

it was hard, as a mother, to watch her son break into so many little pieces. but it was even harder when she almost felt her heart break with his.

she knew steve, knew he would make whoever he ended up with a very, very happy person. he was sweet and went out of his way to make others happy.

and a selfish part of her really wanted steve to end up with her billy, for him to be treated right by the only person he’s been in love with. the person who he’d unintentionally pined after for years.

she just wanted to see her boys happy.

[hoboal87]

Elastic Heart Chapter One

Elastic Heart Chapter One

Characters: Y/N Y/L/N, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, John Winchester, OFCs

Pairing(s): None

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N sees a familiar set of eyes in the crowd, and remembers the first time she saw them and how they changed her life.

Word Count: 4300+

Warnings: Show level violence, cursing, pre-Stanford era Winchesters

Notes: Series will be mostly canon compliant, taking place during season 8/9. Also, for purposes of this fic Sam was born in '84 instead of '83.

Please give a comment or reblog and let me know what you think!

Elastic Heart Masterlist

Chapter One - Senior Year

“Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N”

I don’t hear my name being called, I’m in my own world, looking out into the crowd for a set of familiar eyes. I spot them three rows back and smile. It’s been too long since I’ve seen them, and I miss the days where I would see those eyes nearly every day.

Life as a nursing student consists of going to class, lab work, interning at a hospital, and occasionally sleeping. I’ve spent the past two years doing nothing but that. I’ve always been one to do things early, but this was the one thing that, for once, I was on par with my peers. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. From the first time I saw those eyes, they altered my life, sending me down a path that I never planned to be on. Taking longer than we had thought, but eventually, I got back on track.

Finish school and get my fresh start. That had been my goal for the past two years. Move on, with or without those eyes in my life. I wanted them, but I knew that logically, it couldn’t happen. Our lives were too different, especially now. I lost my chance of having them with me always; now, I could only cherish the holidays and long weekends that allowed us to be together.

“Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N,” the announcer’s voice contains a bit of urgency this time, drawing my attention. I step across the stage, shaking my supervisor’s hand, and receive my metaphorical diploma. I look back out into the audience and connect with those eyes again, wide and filled with joy. I take my seat and think back to the first time I saw them and how they changed my life forever.

Fall, 2002

This was it, the first day of my senior year. This is the year I will prove to everyone that I am no longer a kid. This is the year, mom and dad will see that I can act like an adult and make ‘good choices’ but, I’m determined to have just a little fun.

For the last two years, mom and dad have insisted that I take extra courses and go to summer school to ensure I graduate not only with good grades but early. I’ll graduate in the spring and be off to college in the fall. All I really want is to wait, take a year or two, experience life outside of my parents’ house.

I make the point to do as many high school activities as I can. Activities that they discouraged me from doing for the last two years; choir, volleyball, anything that will get me out of the house but still considered a school activity. I joined the decorating committee, wanting to participate in homecoming as much as possible. I know as long as I do nothing life-altering, I’m gonna be free in May.

“Be mindful of your grades, Y/N,” dad said, reading over all the consent forms, “if they slip, you will need to cut these extracurricular activities.”

“They won’t slip, dad.” I roll my eyes. “It’s my last year, let me have a bit of fun, please?”

“Your average drops below an A, and I’m pulling you out of each one of these clubs, understood?”

“Yes, sir.” I mull over telling him the other part of my plan. “I was… thinking about getting a job.” I look down, not wanting to make eye contact. “Something part-time?”

“I don’t think that’s the best idea, Y/N,” mom enters the room, “You’re going to be so busy already, tell her Rob.”

“Your mother has a point, and if they accept you to all these clubs, when will you even have time?”

“I may not even end up in the choir or the volleyball team,” I argue, “and if I don’t I’ll have a free period every day, I can talk to the counselor about making it my last class and—it’s my Senior Year, please, don’t you guys think I deserve a little more credit than this? I should get to experience a little bit of independence, don’t you think? I’m gonna be away at college in a year, I’m probably gonna have some on-campus job, I need to learn how to balance between the two.” I catch my breath, hoping that they will agree.

“Fine,” dad sighs heavily, “the same deal goes. Your grades slip, no more working. Am I making myself clear?”

“Yes!” I throw my arms around him, “Thank you!”

“Maybe you could get a job at the clinic,” mom chimes in, “get some experience in the field?”

“I don’t think anyone wants a sixteen-year-old working at the clinic, Sarah. Maybe at the drugstore, though?”

“Yeah,” I sit on the couch, “maybe.”

I discreetly start looking at apartments that could be for rent after graduation. I look on the outskirts of town and find a garage apartment that a very sweet older lady agrees to rent to me if it is still unoccupied over the summer. Finding a job gets put on the back burner as the school year moves into full swing. It turns out I can’t sing, and I suck at volleyball, but the coach offers me the position of manager, allowing me to still participate with the team at pep rallies and travel with them on away games. As the season comes to a close, and with Thanksgiving break around the corner, I decide it’s time to actively look for a job.

The trouble is finding someone willing to hire a 16-year-old high school student with no experience. I try some local retail stores, but I know that mom and dad will never go for the hours they want me to work. I walk into Joe’s Burgers, my favorite place to get some dinner and continue looking through the classifieds.

“Hey, Y/N/N,” I look over and wave to the man behind the counter.

“Hey, Dan, can I get a Bacon—"

“Your usual?” he cuts me off, smiling.

“Yes, please,” I look down sheepishly, handing him the exact amount of money without being told the total.

“Whatcha got there?” he nods towards the paper that’s now on the counter as he hands me my receipt.

“Oh, I’m just looking for a job,” I tuck the paper under my arms. “Need to earn some money so I can get outta this town after graduation.”

“What’s wrong with the town,” his face grows serious, “I’ve lived here my whole life.”

“Shit—I mean, n-nothing. Fuck."

“Y/N/N!” Dan bursts into laughter, “I’m just messing with you! You think you’re the first person who hates living here? We’re a small-ass town in the middle of nowhere.”

“You’re such a jerk,” I say, relieved, “I’ll be in my spot, okay?” He tries to contain his laughter as I walk away, making my way to my usual table. I flip through the pages, seeing nothing that would really work for me.

“You know Joe has been talking about hiring another cashier,” Dan says, bringing my food over, “and you’re practically here all the time anyway, you may as well make some money while you’re at it. You want me to talk to him?”

“Really? Do you think he’d hire me? I can’t stay late on week-nights because of school, mom and dad would kill me.”

“Yeah, we need someone to work the register, Jana can’t do it all herself. Whaddya think?”

“Oh, my god Dan, that would be amazing!” I get up and throw my arms around him to give him a hug. I watch as Dan walks to the back of the restaurant, after a few minutes he returns, giving me the thumbs-up. Before I leave, he gives me paperwork to fill out and a uniform, telling me to return the next day for training.

For three days, I train, working with Jana on the register. She is a few years older than me, with absolutely no filter. She always has me hunched over, laughing at something she has said or done. The lunches are busier than usual with the break. On Friday, she decides it’s time to leave me on my own, ‘best way to learn,’ she quips.

I’ve never been a social butterfly, and the thought of having to deal with customers on my own genuinely terrifies me for a few moments. After giving myself a small pep talk, I turn around to see three large men waiting for me.

The shortest of the three looks at me, and leans over the counter, “I’m here, what are your other two wishes?” he asks, flashing me a wink.

“I’m sorry?” I can’t believe this guy is serious.

“My brother and I were wondering,” he gestures to the tallest of the three, “if it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

“W-what?” I feel the heat pooling in my cheeks.

“Dean, knock it off, we’re here to work.” the older man behind him smacks him upside his head, and I have to stifle my laughter. He offers a sympathetic smile toward me.

“Did your mother drop you on your head when you were a baby?” I shot back; it was the only thing I could think of, albeit an awful comeback.

“It’s okay, just blink if you want me,” I stare straight into those green eyes for a solid 10 seconds before turning away.

“Dean, leave the girl alone, how old are you doll?” he asks, turning to me.

“Sixteen,” I say, watching as he rolls his eyes at the other two.

“See, are you trying to go to jail, son?” he says, looking at me apologetically “I’m sorry my sons are two walking hormones.”

“I didn’t even say anything!” the tall one huffs. Green-eyes shrugs and rubs the back of his head.

“Don’t even Sam, I heard you when we walked in.” Their dad grabs them by the shirts and drags them both to stand in front of me. I couldn’t believe my eyes, this man grabbing his two grown sons like they were pre-teens, “Now apologize to…” he looks at my name tag, “… Y/N.”

“Sorry, sweetheart, didn’t mean to offend you,” Green-eyes says insincerely.

“That’s fine, it’s part of the job, learning to deal with frat boys who love to mess with townies,” I smile back curtly.

“What the fu—” green-eyes is clearly trying to contain his anger, but his dad chuckles at the remark, and his brother can hardly control himself.

“Yeah, frat boy, don’t mess with the townie,” the younger one laughs, pushing his shaggy brown hair away from his face, revealing gleaming hazel eyes flecked with hints of green and blue surrounded by dark full lashes.

“Listen, Y/N,” green-eyes looks at my name tag again, “we ain’t no frat boys, in fact, we’re here becau—”

“All right, Dean, that’s enough.” His dad gives him a stern look that is clearly a silent conversation. “Since we’re off to such a wonderful start, let’s start over, yeah?”

I nod politely. These guys are clearly passing through and will be gone in a matter of hours or days, but Joe wants us to make all people, even the ones we’ll probably never see again, feel welcome.

“I’m John, you already know Dean,” he reaches his hand out towards the tall one, “and this is Sam. We’re actually looking into the recent animal-related deaths,” he says, producing a Fish and Wildlife Badge. I study it for a moment before handing it back. “We’re interviewing some of the local business owners and residents in the area of the attacks. Have you heard or seen anything usual, smelled anything weird, anything that comes to mind?”

“Oh.” I look at the three men; here I was being a bitch to the people trying to help. “Um, I just started working here a few days ago, animal attacks?” I look back up to John, who nods. “The only animals around here are coyotes, but even they’re pretty rare. I haven’t heard anything, but I keep to myself. Joe might know something, he’s the owner and knows everything about everyone.” I offer a smile.

“Is Joe in today?” John asks. His grey eyes hold so much pain as he looks at me.

“Um… yeah. He may have a few minutes now that we’ve slowed down. I can see if he can come talk to you?”

“That’d be great, thanks, Y/N.”

“Please, Y/N/N,” I say, blushing, covering my nametag, “No one really calls me Y/N.”

“Y/N/N,” he repeats, “I’d really like to speak with Joe if it’s not a problem.”

“Yeah, shit. Let me go get him,” I say, walking towards the back. “Hey Jana, I’m gonna go get Joe. Watch the register?”

“I got it,” she hollers back.

“Dude! She’s 16!” I hear who I assume is Sam whispering loudly. “Shut up! How was I supposed to know that?!”

“Dean, she’s obviously not 18. Stick to girls your own age,” John responds. “Sammy—.”

I can no longer hear the men as I reach the door to Joe’s office. Jana and Dan had both told me that his door usually stayed open, today it was not only closed, but it was locked as well. I knock, waiting for him to answer. He looks a little frazzled when he opens the door, but smiles at me, “Hey, Y/N/N, what’s up?”

“There’s a guy from Fish and Wildlife; he’s looking into the recent animal attacks? He’s asking about strange occurrences or something? I don’t know, but I know you pay attention to that kind of stuff, so he wants to talk to you.”

“I—shit, yeah, let him know I’ll be out in a few minutes,” he straightens his shirt and closes the door behind him.

I nod and head back to the front of the building. I watch as the boys and their father seem to be in deep discussion. Turning away when I realize Dean has caught me staring. I gather their food, and as I walk towards their table, I can hear that for some reason, I am the current topic of discussion, specifically, my age.

“Actually, I’ll be 17 in a month,” I quip, dropping their food, unsure of why I am engaging with this odd group of men.

“Huh?” Dean looks at me curiously.

“Well, for some reason the two of you are overly concerned with my age, I’ll be 17 next month.”

“Still illegal, Dean,” Sam smirks.

“Yeah, but right up your alley, Sammy,” Dean winks at him.

“Boys, stop treating this girl like she’s a piece of meat,” their father doesn’t even look up from his plate.

I can’t help myself, I’m usually not this brazen, but something about these outsiders coming in, I have to say it, “Well, here in the Great State of Texas the age of consent is 17, it’s not technically illegal,” and before I can stop myself I wink at Dean.

“Oh, Y/N, you are killing me here,” he says, bringing his hand to his chest. “Unfortunately, I’m gonna have to pass, but Sammy here,” Dean grabs Sam by the shoulders, “may be able to help you out.”

Sam blushes furiously; it’s actually adorable. I can feel the heat coming up in my own cheeks, and know if I stay any longer, they will see it very clearly.

“Joe’ll be out in a few minutes,” I say, turning to go back to the register. I walk away, adding a little sway in my hips as I know the younger men are watching. “Lemme know if there’s anything else I can get you,” I shoot another wink, this time in Sam’s direction.

“Thanks, Y/N/N.” John’s baritone voice carries through the restaurant.

I watch Joe take a seat with the three men, the younger boys listening and observing their father very carefully. I watch John grab something—a fork?— out of his pocket and discreetly place it in front of Joe. Why would he do such a thing? Joe and the men continue to speak for 10 minutes until the dinner rush starts, and Joe excuses himself.

The three men finish their burgers and leave the restaurant; concern etched on their faces as they have a heated conversation.

Throughout the dinner rush, I notice that Sam is stationed outside of the building. It looks as though he’s watching somebody. But every time I look up, his position has changed. After it grows dark, I can no longer see him outside; I realize I shouldn’t let him occupy my mind. Jana and I work furiously until a few hours later when we finally close.

“First day on your own,” Jana says, letting her hair down and hopping onto the counter. “You did good Y/N/N, only a couple mistakes.”

“Thanks, it’s not always gonna be like that, right?” I say, sighing, mimicking her actions with my own hair.

“Nah, I mean, the Friday and Saturdays will be, but unless it’s a school break, the nights are not usually too crazy,” she reassures me.

“Thank God,” I laugh, “what about the customers? Did you see those guys earlier? The ones talking to Joe?” I ask, hoping that she doesn’t pick up on the fact that I am blushing at the mention of the men.

“Oh, you mean the green-eyed one who was clearly hitting on you?” She smirks at me, “With the older guy and the really tall guy?”

“Yeah… you have an excellent memory…” I laugh, “he was so cheesy. ‘Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?’” I mock him. “I mean, he can’t think girls really fall for that? Even the tall one knew it was a bad line.” I blushed a little, thinking about them.

“Oh my god, you like him, green-eyes.” She gasps, “You wanna jump his bones,” she sang mockingly at me, “you love him!”

“Shut up,” I threw my apron at her playfully, “I do not want to jump his bones. Besides, I’m jailbait. He’s at least 21 or so.” Jana raises her eyebrow at me. “He basically told me he couldn’t.”

“So… you’re saying you would if he was younger?” she giggles.

“Jana! No! He’s not my type. He’s way too cocky—he probably thinks he’s God’s Gift to Women,” I mock him again.

“What about the tall one? He was gorgeous,” she offers, “And the dad? He’s hot, like I will so call him Daddy. Let him just—."

“That’s way too much information, Jana. Anyway, if green-eyes is too old, how on earth is the dad not even more wrong?”

“That’s what makes it so hot… like, the wrongness of it…” she says mock fanning herself. “Okay, so clearly, the giant is the one you’re gonna have to do. You can just climb on top—" she says, moving her whole body onto the counter, “and take him for a ride.”

“Jesus, Jana.” I try to suppress my embarrassed laughter. But I blush furiously at the thought of Sam, especially with the image that Jana just planted in my head. I cover my face with my hands as I try to compose myself.

“Oh my god, you are so red!” Jana laughs, “It’s the giant! He’s the one you lo-ove!”

“I don’t even know him! They’re just passing through. You know the type, no one actually moves here. Not for real, at least. They’ll be gone in a week.”

“Y/N/N, that’s why it’s perfect. Hook up, get all that pent-up frustration out of your system, and then you’ll go your separate ways,” she offers. “Wham-bam-thank you-ma’am.”

“I’m really not into that one-night stand stuff,” I say, “I mean, what’s the point?”

“Come on, Y/N/N, that’s the point. Sometimes you just need a release. It’s not like you’re gonna fall in love with some guy you just met and hook-up with once. I mean, you’ve hooked up with guys before, right?”

I shrug my shoulders.

“Oh, my God. Y/N/N, you’re not a virgin, are you?” she whispers so that Dan and Joe won’t hear. I nod, I didn’t have a problem with my own virginity, but other people did. I know I have plenty of time. And with how busy mom and dad keep me, I have no time for boys. “Oh, okay, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I know. Besides, mom and dad don’t even like the thought of me dating; they’d make the guy ask for permission. It’s not that I would ever have time for it anyway. Either way, it’ll happen whenever it happens, and it will probably not be great the first time,” I laugh, trying to break the serious look on Jana’s face. “I have very low expectations, especially if he’s never done anything either. Most boys my age don’t know what they’re doing anyway.”

“Not to be all romantic or whatever, but you know it doesn’t have to be like that. Your first time doesn’t have to suck. It can be really nice if you get the right person.”

“I figure it will either be awesome or okay,” I laugh, “hope it’s awesome, but it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Okay, I’m gonna have one more mom moment with you, and then we can leave, okay?” she grows slightly serious, and I nod my head. “Bring condoms.” I choke out a laugh. “I’m serious. Don’t count on the guy to do it. And don’t trust the ‘pull-out’ method. Dudes always think they can time it right, and half the time…” she makes a gesture I don’t quite understand, I look at her confused. “Inside. Or at least not all the way out. And I’m sure getting pregnant isn’t a part of your grand plan.” She smiles softly. “If you ever need someone to talk about this stuff with, you can come to me, okay?”

“Thank you, if and when the day ever comes, I’ll be sure to tell you.” She raises her eyebrow. “I swear. Don’t count on it being anytime soon, though.”

Jana finishes counting the tips, and I count the register. We grab our bags, say goodbye to Dan, who’s still closing down, and Joe, who’s in the office looking at receipts.

Jana and I live about a block away from each other, and close enough to the restaurant that neither of us bothered driving. Every week it’s getting colder, and I know by the first week of December it will be too cold to walk home at night. But until then, Jana and I walk together, her house off of the main road that leads to mine.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you all the way home?” Jana asks as we reach her street.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Then you’ll have to walk back by yourself.”

“Yeah, but I’m prepared.” She pulls mace and a small knife that’s attached to her keychain out. “If someone or something tries to get me, stab stab.”

“Jesus, Jana,” I laugh out of shock. “No, I’ll be fine, how about tomorrow before work I get me one of those and then I’ll be prepared as well.”

“Fine, but call me when you get home,” she jots a number down and waves goodbye, “I’m serious Y/N/N, call me. If you don’t, I will call your parents.”

“I will,” I yell, turning back to head home.

I feel that I’m being followed. Paranoid, I know. I swear I can hear footsteps behind me, but every time I turn around, there’s nothing there. Freaking Jana, this is her fault. I’ve never had issues walking home at night before, but now I’m hearing things that I probably wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t put “I’m prepared,” in my head, now feeling like a taunt. I’m less than 5 minutes away from my house; what could possibly happen?

I hear a growling, something inhuman; it grows louder as I try to will myself to move faster. I turn the corner, and that’s when it happens, someone, something, jumps out of nowhere and starts running towards me. I try to run, but my legs won’t move, “fuck.”

I hear yelling, but I still can’t move, the creature is getting closer to me, and I get a good look at it. Claws, it has fucking claws. Its eyes are yellow, and its teeth are huge. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was a werewolf. But werewolves don’t exist. This must be the creature that John was looking for.

‘It’s some kind of rare species of bear,’ I tell myself, ‘a bear.’

It’s only about a foot away from me; it looks like something out of a horror movie. It’s on its hind legs, unnatural noises leave its body, and before I can even move, it's swiping at me. All I can do is close my eyes and pray it doesn't kill me. A loud bang forces my eyes open, I stand there, still unable to move. I look up to see a set of familiar eyes before me, ones I hadn’t expected to see ever again. Sam.

Chapter 2

[takenbyemrys]

Merry Christmas Peachy!!! For @peachy-keener for Parkner Secret Santa event

---

Peter laid his head down on his books. He let out a muffled groan as Ned patted his back. MJ rolled her eyes from across the table. They were trying their best to get a last minute study session in before classes started.

“Come on, loser, it’s english,” MJ said. Peter huffed and sent her a mild glare.

“Says you.” Peter said. “All you ever do is read.”

Ned chuckled. “He’s not wrong MJ. English is so much easier for you than us.”

“Help us Michelle Jones, you’re our only hope.” Peter snickered as he said it, earning an eye roll.

“You’re both massive losers. It’s not that hard. But fine.” She leaned forward and began explaining just where they were wrong. MJ was halfway through her explanation when she was interrupted by Principal Morita walking up to their table. A tall girl followed closely behind him, her arms crossed and a scowl on her face.

“Oh you three will do,” Morita said. “Peter, MJ, Ned, this is our new student, Abbie Keener. Abbie is a junior, but she’s going to be taking a lot of senior classes, so I want you three to show her around.”

With that, he nodded to the four of them and walked out of the library.

MJ snorted. “Okay then.”

Peter, however, jumped up and grinned. He held out his hand to Abbie. “Hi, I’m Peter!”

Abbie raised an eyebrow at his outstretched hand but reluctantly reached out to shake it.

“Nice ta meet ya.” Her southern twang was rich.

“You too, Abbie.” Peter waved to the empty seat next to MJ. “This is MJ, who was oh so graciously helping us not fail English. And this is Ned.”

Abbie nodded to them, but otherwise said nothing.

“It was gracious of me, wasn’t it?” MJ smirked. “Why was I doing it again?”

“Because if you didn’t, we wouldn’t be going to NYU together next year,” Ned said. MJ huffed. “And what would you do without your soulmates?”

“Y’all are soul mates?” Abbie asked, clearly trying to assess the relationship with her eyes.

“Yeah, we’re all platonic soulmates,” Peter explained. He held out his left arm that had two phrases tattooed on it. MJ and Ned held out their wrists as well. “For me, the top one is Ned, because I first met him. Ned and MJ’s first was me too, even though MJ met us at the same time.”

Abbie studied his wrist, where the first phrase said ‘Do you like star wars?’ and the second said ‘Sup Losers.’

“Cool. My Brother’s my platonic.” She held out her left wrist. Peter saw that it said, ‘Hello, little sister.’

“Oh that’s adorable.” Peter grinned. Abbie grinned. Most people thought it was weird that her brother was her soulmate. “So, where are you and your brother from?”

“Tennessee,” Abbie answered easily. “My brother and I moved up here because he started at NYU this semester.”

Peter’s eyes lit up. “Oh cool! Are you planning on going there too?”

“Probably,” Abby explained with a grin. “I think i want to travel first.”

MJ nodded. “Same. Hard debating ditching these losers.”

Ned grabbed his chest, giving her an exaggerated gasp and the ultimate eyes of betrayal before crying out, “You would never!”

“Yeah, sorry MJ.” Peter shrugged. “After the whole ‘soulmate’ thing, you can’t really pretend not to like us.”

“I don’t know,” Abbie teased. “I’ll ditch my brother and you ditch them, and we can hit Europe.”

“The three of them can look after each other.” MJ agreed. She paused, looking between the boys. “Well, maybe.”

“Oh my god,” Peter gasped. “Ned, it finally happened. MJ found someone else who’ll be just as mean to us.”

He then wailed, burying his head in Ned’s shoulder. Ned, for his part, hugged Peter close and pretended to weep as well.

MJ stood up, both annoyed and affectionate. “Alright losers. Come on. We have class.”

“Ugh, I don’t want to go to class,” Peter groaned. Despite his dramatics, he looked to their new friend. “Abbie what classes do you have?”

Abbie pulled a schedule out of her backpack and handed it to them. It took only a few seconds for all three to look back up at her eagerly.

“Sweet!” Peter said. “You have most of your classes with us.” After he finished, he grabbed Ned and led the way out of the library. MJ snorted and pulled Abbie after her.

“Alright, Keener,” she said. “Looks like we’re adopting you.” --------

After that, Abbie easily merges into their friend group. She shares almost every class with at least one of them. This gives them all plenty of time together (especially she and Peter) and allows her to open up more. Her and MJ get on like a house on fire, making Peter and Ned sometimes wonder how they aren’t platonic soulmates, or maybe even romantic soulmates. Regardless, there’s nothing between them like that and they just all click. Abbie ends up invited to movie nights, lunch, and the occasional Aunt May sponsored thai food. She raises an amused eyebrow everytime Peter has to go to his ‘internship’ and everytime he has sprint out right after school.

It happened one day when Peter offered to walk Abbie home. He was rambling on and on about nanotechnology when it hit her. It hit her so hard she stopped walking, gaping at Peter.

“Abs?” He asked, eyebrows drawing in concern. He reached out and grabbed her shoulder. Abbie jolted out of her trance at his touch.

“Sorry. Just contemplating the inescapable chasm of loss in regards to abandonment.” Abbie pressed her lips together, trying to stop the onslaught of invasive and horrific thoughts. It was only natural. Harley and Peter were soulmates. There was no doubt in her mind that these two idiots would fucking love each other. The only problem was Abbie. They would run away together, and do science, and completely forget about her.

“Fucking mood. Literally my entire existence.” Peter snorted. Abbie raised an eyebrow.

“Who abandoned you?” She pried.

“Besides everyone? My parents dumped me on May and my Uncle Ben’s doorstop when I was like nine. Then, Ben died in my arms last year after a robbery. So, i get it. Whatever you got goin on, you’re not alone, and I’m not gonna abandon you. Never will.” Peter gave her a sad, lopsided smile, and Abbie melted. She launched herself at Peter, wrapping her arms around him. Peter gasped as Abbie knocked the wind out of him, but instinctively reciprocated.

“You’re great, ya know that Parker?” Peter shook his head and slung his arm around her. He led her down the street.

“I’m something. So, I shared. Who abandoned you?” Peter squeezed her shoulder. “Besides everyone?” Abbie smirked. “Dad left when I was a baby, but mom did the emotional abandonment thing. All I ever had was Harley.” Abbie shrugged. “Hopefully I’ll always have Harley.”

“Well, I’ve never met the mysterious brother whose never at your apartment, but based on everything I know about you and him, he wouldn’t leave you either. I mean he drug you all the way to New York because he refused to leave you at home didn’t he?” Abbie looked up.

“How in all seven hells did you know that?” She asked. Peter shrugged.

“Best guess.” He gave her his best dimples and a wink.

“You’re too smart for your own good Parker. But, I still appreciate it.” Peter stops at the door of her apartment building. “And for the record. I won’t abandon you either.” Peter lit up like a christmas tree. “Now get outta here. I know you have stuff to do.” Abbie winked and sauntered through the door. Peter shook his head, but slipped into the alley next to the building.

---------

“Does he really believe he’s bein’ subtle about the whole Spiderman thing?” Abbie asked one day, watching Peter sprint across the courtyard. MJ rolled her eyes and Ned gaped at her, already trying to find excuses to explain Peter’s behavior.

“Unfortunately.” MJ despaired.

“Ya know. I think it’s time y’all met Harley.” She was still staring after Peter.

“Because?” Ned asked.

“Because I just have a feelin’.” Abbie said as explanation. “We can go meet him now, if you’d like. Then y’all’ll definitely know what I'm talkin’ about.”

MJ shrugged and closed her book. “Might as well. Ned?”

“Why not?” Ned nodded.

Abbie led the duo through New York, stopping at the entrance to a run down garage. “You’re sure he’s here?” Ned asked. Abbie held up her wrist, staring at the invisible string she knew was there.

“Yep. I’m sure. Come on.” Abbie pushed opened the door and led them through the waiting area. Music boomed the minute she opened the door. ACDC almost burst their eardrums. When they reached the garage portion, MJ raised an eyebrow at the sports cars, while Ned was too preoccupied with the state of the art parts strewn around the room. “Yo, Harls!” Abbie yelled over the music, pointing to a car with it’s hood up. They noted the shirtless man leaning over it. He stood up and yelled at the ceiling, turning off the music. He pulled a rag from his pocket and wiped his hands.

When he turned around MJ snorted. Ned grinned.

“Ya’ll must be Abbie’s friends. I’m Harley.” The southern dripped off his lips, sweeter than tea.

“Well, fuck Keener. You had a feeling, huh?” MJ asked. Ned shook his head.

“Just a feelin’.” Abbie answered.

“I’m missing something.” Harley said, his lips twisting into a scowl.

“You’ll find out soon enough.” Ned grinned at him. “I’m Ned, this is MJ.” MJ jerked her head, smirk still dancing on her lips.

“Peter couldn’t make it. But, i’ll bring him by tomorrow, if thats cool?” Abbie asked.

“Yeah, you know that’s cool. So, y’all go to nerd school?” Harley asked.

“The nerdiest.” MJ confirmed.

“Is that the beginnings of a sublight engine?” Ned asked, pointing to a massive pile of parts on a nearby cart.

“Hell yes!” Harley grinned. He began to explain how he was making it. MJ leaned toward Abbie.

“This is the best feelin’ you’ve ever had. And i’m personally upset you didn’t tell me sooner.

“It just hit me a couple weeks ago. There’s no way they aren’t soulmates.” MJ grinned at Abbie, who hip checked her.

“When are you bringing him? I so want to see it.” MJ stared at Ned, a rare soft smile on her face.

“Tomorrow for sure. I wanted to make sure y’all agreed with me. We can do the exact same thing.”

“Do you know what Harley’s soulmark says?” MJ aked. Abbie grinned evily.

“Oh yes. And you won’t want to miss it.” Abbie collapsed on a couch near the wall and watched Ned and Harley nerd out over Star Wars and mechanics.

“Fucking losers.” MJ said fondly, sitting next to Abbie. They stayed for another hour, plotting the lovely demise of Peter Parker into the abyss that was Harley Keener. Ned and Harley kept getting more excited as the moved from engine to engine. MJ pulled Ned away after a while, offering to walk him home. As soon as the door closed, Ned turned to her with a grin.

“MJ. He’s fucking perfect.” Ned vibrated with excitement.

“Intelligence?” MJ asked.

“Off the charts. No way they won’t be on the same level. Also, did you see the abs?” Ned asked.

“You mean the ones literally showing through his shirt? I saw. The honeyed accent is no slouch either. I’m thrilled to see what happens tomorrow.” MJ hugged Ned when they reached his apartment and practically skipped to hers.

-----

“I can’t believe I missed meeting Harley!” Peter groaned.

“We’ll go back today so we can meet him,” Abbie rolled her eyes. Peter lit up, a grin gracing his lips, and his dimples gracing Abbie. After class MJ and Ned led the way to the garage, having a heated debate on MJ’s latest book. Abbie was studiously ignoring Peter as he tried to pry information out of her.

“Come on, you never tell us about him. I’ve been so curious. I mean he’s your platonic soulmate and that’s adorable.” Abbie rolled her eyes at him.

“You’ll meet him in just a minute, Parker. Calm the fuck down.” Abbie bumped his hip against Peter’s. The boy huffed and crossed his arms. MJ opened the door to the shop, and they were once again blasted with ACDC. Peter’s eyebrows jumped in surprise.

Harley was working on the same car when they walked in, but this time, he was under it. Abbie walked up and hit the hood of the car. Harley’s legs jerked as he jumped in surprise.

“Ow! Fuck! Abbie!” Harley rolled out from under the car and jumped up, glaring at his sister. She gave him a sweet smile.

“Sorry Harls. Just letting you know we’re here. Also, you didn’t meet him yesterday. This is Peter.” Abbie flung her arm out, pulling Peter out from behind MJ and Ned. Peter’s eyes widened, following the line of grease smudged on Harley’s neck.

“Oh you. Fuck me.” Peter muttered. Harley grinned and leaned back onto the car. Harley held up his wrist that said ‘Oh you. Fuck me’ in Peter’s notorious chicken scratch.

“Maybe not now, but hopefully soon, darlin’.” Harley smirked as Peter’s eyes widened. MJ and Ned were trying their hardest not to laugh. Peter held up his matching wrist and grinned.

“Well, who'd've thought.” Abbie smirked, grinning between the two who she now thought of as her brothers.

[ohblackdiamond]

little t&a (paul/gene, nc-17) (part 12 of 29)

part 1   part 2   part 3   part 4   part 5   part 6   part 7   part 8   part 9   part 10   part 11   part 12   part 13   part 14   part 15   part 16   part 17   part 18   part 19   part 20   part 21  part 22   part 23   part 24    part 25   part 26   part 27   part 28   part 29 Four weeks before KISS gets back on tour, Gene discovers that Paul’s been cursed by a groupie. For the sake of KISS’ finances, Paul’s comfort levels, and Gene’s libido, this crisis must be resolved. Sexswap fic. In this chapter: Ace and Peter discuss Paul’s crisis, with and without him, and Paul gives Gene some lessons.

            Peter and Ace stuck around for a couple hours. Long enough that Paul heated up the leftover pizza for them, and Gene ended up getting two more delivered, while the forgotten remains of both their Dairy Queen milkshakes just melted in Paul’s car. Paul confessed to nearly everything, from when Gene had first come over to the call to Steve Rubell’s secretary.

           Peter had been pretty loath to talk about witchcraft and ways to alleviate the curse at any real length. It seemed to make him as queasy as it did Gene. Ace, on the other hand, perused Paul’s occult books for awhile, and offered to scour some old hippie contacts and see if they still knew any witches.

           “Or Suzie. But she would’ve told you herself if she knew anyone good.” Ace had shrugged, devouring another slice of pizza. “Thing is… thing is, you’re better off going to the source.  You just don’t wanna mess with it yourself if you don’t have to. You got really fucked up. You don’t wanna risk making it any worse, getting someone else to try to fix it.”

           “You think someone might turn me into a frog on accident?”

           Ace had laughed.

          “We could get you a cute costume that way. What d’you think, Geno?”

          “We could get him a cute costume now.”

          “Bet you already have.”

          Paul’s face went red. Ace winked.

          “But… really, thing is, this kind of shit isn’t your basic curse.”

          “I didn’t know there was such a thing.”

          “Y’know, bad luck for a couple months, bad acne, psoriasis, that kinda curse.” Ace ran a thumb across his own pockmarked cheek, then added, unnecessarily, “I’ve had this since I landed on Earth, it ain’t a curse—but that’s about all most witches could’ve done to you.”

          “Anybody ever do anything to you, Ace?” Paul asked. It was a pretty fair question, Gene felt like. Ace used to run with a weird crowd. Still did. But Ace shook his head.

          “Nah. Well, Suzie told me KISS’d never get a number-one single here. But that was more of a prediction—”

          “She’s wrong.” Gene dismissed her out of hand. Across from him, sitting on the coffee table, Peter nodded in agreement. Ace shrugged.

          “What I mean is, it could take awhile to fix, and that’s if she wants to fix it.”

          “Ace, we’re not canceling the tour.”

          “’M not saying cancel.” Ace gnawed heavily on his lip. Gene could tell he was just about to ask Paul for a beer. “But how far back do you think we could push it? Couple months?”

          “We couldn’t push it back any without Bill wanting a reason why,” Gene said flatly.

          “So let’s give him a reason why.” Ace exhaled. “I’ll… y’know, I never did have a big honeymoon with Jeanette. I could tell him I wanted three weeks for that.”

          “That’s only three weeks—”

           “Yeah, but…” Ace reached for the Tab Peter had been drinking out of, finishing it off with a gulp. “It’s about buying time. We could keep on finding excuses if we had to.”

           “I don’t want you to have to,” Paul said. “I don’t want to fuck things up for everybody.”

           The silence lingered for several moments. No one said a word to argue his point. Paul’s gaze lowered to one of the cardboard pizza boxes, and, next to it, the box of Gene’s Studio 54 clothes. Finally, Peter spoke.

           “You can’t help it, Paulie. We’re gonna do what we can.” He rubbed his arm. “Could probably get my doctor to say I’ve gotta take off another month if I have to.”

           “Don’t say anything yet.”

           “I won’t. We won’t.” Peter hesitated. “Hey, you want us coming to 54 with you tonight?”

           Ace perked up.

           “That’d help. Four guys looking for the same girl. One of us could be in the basement, one in the VIP lounge upstairs—”

           “You’d just be fucking in the basement,” Paul accused dryly.

           “It’s good for running into people. Groupies all over there. Besides, Steve’s bunch is just as loaded as he is. They may not remember what girl you wanted.”

           Ace had a point. Gene mulled it over, glancing at Paul, who nodded, before he answered.

           “Yeah, okay. But not all in the same limo.”

           “Aw, c’mon! Why not?”

           “It’d attract too much attention. Everyone would be wondering where Paul was.”

           “Me and Pete’ll go together. We’ll get there later so it’s not as obvious.” Ace took another slice of pizza. “Remind me again, yeah? Brown hair, freckles, short?”

           “Yeah, that’s it.”

           “Carol… Carol Johnson?”

           “Jensen.”

           “Gotcha.” Ace shook his head. “God, Paulie, you gotta start making photo albums like Gene. You get better descriptions outta those police sketch artists.”

--

            The rest of the afternoon was placid enough. Paul and Gene lazed around after Ace and Peter left. Gene turned on the T.V. and they watched The Edge of Night (how the hell that soap was still on, Gene didn’t know), Paul flopping next to him with his legs hanging over the couch. There was something comfortable about it. Paul only got up once the show’s credits streamed down the screen, turning it off.

           “You don’t want to watch the news?”

           “No. We’d still have half an hour. Besides, I wanted to show you something. C’mon.”

           Gene followed him out of the living room, down the stairs to the den. He’d been there before, sure, but Paul had never really given him a house tour. KISS’ gold records hung from the wood-paneled walls, along with an assortment of posters and memorabilia from their earlier tours. All stuff Gene had at home himself—if anything, Gene had a lot more of it—but Paul didn’t acknowledge it, heading for three bookshelves packed with records.

           “Back when I was in high school,” he said, “I used to try to buy one album every couple of weeks. I’d have to get the cut-outs.”

           “Yeah, I know.”

           “So once we got big, I decided I’d get every record I ever wanted.” Paul grinned a little ruefully. “But I didn’t really think it through, so this is what I ended up with.”

           “Uh-huh.” Gene tugged out a copy of Alvin and the Chipmunks’ “Witch Doctor.” “I think that goes without saying.”

           “C’mon, I was a kid when that came out.”

           “Do you have ‘Flying Purple People Eater,’ too?”

           “Don’t laugh, I might.” Paul started thumbing through the shelves. Gene almost told him not to go looking for it, but instead of the Sheb Wooley single, Paul took out a copy of Rod Stewart’s latest offering, last year’s A Night on the Town. Gene looked at it quizzically.

            “What’s this for?”

           “Good luck.” Paul slid the record out of its sleeve and handed it to Gene. “Put it on.”

           Gene put it on. The vinyl crackled appreciably. Last year’s hit on that first track. Rod Stewart could pair filthy lyrics with a number-one hit, while KISS was stuck going the clean ballad route just to hit the top ten.

           “‘Tonight’s the Night’?” Oh. That made sense. Well, it made some sense. Gene was getting the impression Paul might not have thought his selection through, as Rod started to gravel-voice his way into getting a virgin into bed. “Hoping for a pretty exciting evening, aren’t you?”

           “Not—Gene, I meant we’d find the girl.” Paul tapped Gene’s shoulder with the album jacket. “It’s positive thinking. Norman Vincent Peale and all that.”

           Gene grinned.

           “Pretty raunchy. I thought you’d pick a cleaner pick-me-up.”

           “Whatever, I like it.” Paul propped the jacket against the record player. His face was faintly flushed. “The whole album’s pretty good.”

           “I know. I have it.” Gene listened to the saxophone’s croon before cutting in again. “You really just wanted me to see your record collection?”

           “No. Not exactly.” Paul shifted. “Look, I know you don’t really go to the discos much.”

           “So? Paul, I don’t mind doing it for you.”

           “Yeah, but… shit, I don’t know. You got bored last night.”

           “I didn’t get bored. I had a pretty good view.”

           Paul rolled his eyes.

           “There’s not a lot to do at 54 besides get wasted and dance. And neither of us is going to get wasted.”

           That was true of any club, and most of why he didn’t go. He could get laid just as easily in his own neighborhood, without the hassle of dressing up and schmoozing.

           “It’s fine. Maybe I’ll bring a book.”

           “Gene.” Paul had his tongue peeking slightly past his teeth. Nervous. “I wanna teach you to dance.”

           “What for?”

           “So you’ll have something to do. That way, we don’t look like creeps waiting around.” The first track was edging towards the halfway point. Paul took his hand. “What do you say?”

           “Don’t you want something a little faster?”

           “No. This is good.” Paul took Gene’s other arm, positioning his hand on his shoulder. “You can dance to anything, if you’ve got rhythm.”

           “You’re leading.”

           “Damn right.” Paul had his other hand on his waist already, was urging him forward with that hand. Gene took an obedient, offbeat step, and Paul sighed but stepped back in time with Gene instead of with the beat. A couple more steps and Paul had them back on track again, although Gene felt about as awkward as he had during senior prom ten years prior. “It’s mirroring, mostly. Mirroring and—getting a feel for your partner, what they can do.”

           “A feel, huh?”

           “Getting a feel, not copping one.” Paul pursed his lips in consideration. “Don’t watch your feet so much. Keep it up here.”

           “When did you start dancing?”

           “I dunno. I always wanted to.” He was starting to get more complicated than the sort of forward-back motion that was all Gene could readily accomplish. Shifting more than his feet around. Had he been doing that from the beginning? Paul’s grip on him was more relaxed than the reverse, that much was definite. “Just one of those stupid things. I used to watch all those variety shows when I was a kid, and think, ‘hey, I could do that.’ Dance, sing… puppeteer…” Paul snorted, and dropped his arm from Gene’s waist. Gene almost let go entirely, but then Paul squeezed his hand, raising it up. Gene gave him a blank look in return, before realizing, several beats too late, that Paul had been trying to get him into a spin.

           “Puppeteer?”

           “Howdy Doody’s a—formative influence—”

           “Uh-huh.” The mildly disappointed expression on Paul’s face made him a little concerned, and he added, “Try that again, I wasn’t ready.”

           Paul lifted his arm again. Gene made the spin, his movements stilted, feeling a bit stupid for all of it until he saw Paul start to grin.

           “Maybe we should try it like this.”

           “Like what?”

          Rod had just about made it with the girl, the moaned-out French at the end of the track something Gene could only guess at. Paul just took him by both hands.

          “A little less formal, right? Hang on.” Paul let go, hurrying back to the record player. Gene watched him take the vinyl off and stuff it back into the sleeve and jacket, before rummaging around the shelves again. He pulled out another record, though this time he didn’t show Gene the jacket before putting it on. Not that it mattered. Gene recognized the harmonies anyway, well before Paul made his way back to where he was standing. Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young’s Deja Vu.

          “Figured we could go way back.” Paul took his hands again as the record played, his steps faster, more energetic. Gene didn’t really think the band had meant for anyone to dance to their stuff. He kept up awkwardly at first, but something about how enthusiastic Paul was, how much he put into every move, how he tried to fit the steps to the songs, buoyed him. His curls would bounce a bit depending on the tempo. It was almost cute to watch. Almost infectious. Gene hesitated before trying to get Paul into a turn himself, getting a gratified look and an eager spin in return. He was starting to get it, a bit, the way just a shift or a squeeze of the hand was enough of a signal of where to turn or where he was headed. Like that sense he’d get, that sense they’d all get, if one of the guys was having an off night and they needed to cover during a concert. It was warm, intuitive.

          Paul was breathing a little heavily by the time they’d gone through the first few tracks, hands sweaty. Gene tried to get him into one more spin as the record buzzed. He caught Paul’s shoulder with his free hand while he was halfway through, his back towards Gene’s. He wasn’t sure why he’d done it. Paul stopped there, turning to look at Gene, questioning.

          “Something wrong?”

          “No. I’m fine.” Gene shifted forward—a bad idea; they’d been closer than he realized, and now he was up against him. The melancholic harmonies of “Country Girl” were starting to swell. Gene pursed his suddenly dry lips, feeling stupid, no, feeling absolutely moronic, as he let go of Paul’s hand. “I—I think we better get ready.”

          Paul’s expression drooped only for a moment, like the hesitant flicker of lights just before a power outage. His hand went to his side.

          “Oh. Oh, yeah. Lemme get the record.” He took a step, Gene’s hold on his shoulder slackening to nothing, Gene’s hand faltering down to his own side, and walked over to retrieve the record, the moment fading away before he even lifted the needle.

--

           A few hours later, Peter and Ace were in a limo, grousing. They’d gotten ready for Studio 54 earlier than they’d meant to from sheer antsiness, and now they were reduced to making the driver get them fast food they didn’t even want to kill time.

          Well, Peter didn’t want it, but he was pretty sure Ace would eat his share for him. He was also sure it wasn’t quite enough of a delaying tactic to keep him and Ace from arriving right around when Paul and Gene did, but Ace reassured him he could keep that from happening. Peter sighed, glancing out the window to make sure the driver wasn’t on his way out of the restaurant yet, before speaking again.

          “What do you think about it?”

           Ace raised his head slightly at the question. He had brought a deck of cards and was shuffling them as they waited. Sometimes he’d lift the cards up into a sloppy arc as he riffled through them. He’d been fairly quiet, no real goofing off, not even any drinking, since they’d doubled back to Peter’s, gotten ready for the evening, and scrounged up the limo. Two nights in a row at 54 might’ve been murder on a normal human being, but in his less-sober moments, Peter could convince himself he’d spent the last four years with Jendell’s most questionable export.

           “What do I think about what, Pete?”

           “What we’re gonna do about Paul.”

           “Nothing to do about Paul. Either he gets back to normal or he doesn’t.”

           “I meant the band.” None of them had really wanted to bring it up. Ace had only barely alluded to it when he’d offered to delay the tour with a honeymoon. “If we don’t find that girl, or Paul doesn’t get back to normal, what’s going to happen to the band?”

           “You know what’s going to happen.” Ace sounded more quietly cynical than he had in a long time. “We all know what’s going to happen.”

           “I’m not kicking Paul out of his own fucking band.”

           “I’m not, either. And Gene’d rather get a tongue reduction than hurt Paul like that.” Ace shifted, kicking his heels up to the glass partition between them and the driver, while he kept toying with the deck in his hands. “We’ll all just have to pack it up. If he doesn’t get fixed, KISS is gone.”

           Pack it up. The thought felt like the gum beneath a desk at school. Peter didn’t like thinking about the options. They could all try solo acts—he felt like he had a better shot than the others, given “Beth”… or join up in some other band, but it felt… dirty. It wasn’t like Paul had gotten on drugs or turned into a completely insufferable asshole or blown out his voice. He’d just had something shitty happen to him that they couldn’t—

           “Do you think Bill could spin it? Let’s say… let’s say we don’t tell him everything.” Peter was trying to think. “Let’s say Paul’s fucked off, but hey, we found a replacement that kinda looks like him. A real pretty girl. We got a whole new market. Chicks don’t ever front rock bands—”

           “Petey, we couldn’t keep it up.” Ace gnawed his lip. “Bill’d still wanna know who this girl was. Even if Paul could fool him, we’d still get blown out of the water the minute people started asking questions. We’d need IDs, a passport…”

           “We could get fakes made.”

           “Then what?” Ace shook his head. “Paul’d be living like that guy in The Fugitive. Worse. Having to pretend he really was some random chick in front of the whole damn world… I don’t wanna shoot you down, man, but we’re sunk.”

          Peter groaned.

          “KISS is sunk and Gene gets a girlfriend. Fucking terrible trade-off.”

           “Poor Geno.” Ace laughed. “He might figure it’s worth it, you think?”

           “Nah. Gene likes money more than he likes getting laid.” Peter swallowed. “You think they’ve fucked yet?”

           “C’mon, Paulie’s a lady,” Ace managed, before bursting into those weird, high giggles again. “He won’t give it up that quick. How long did it take you to warm him up to it?”

           “Not too long.”

           Ace held the deck up. Peter shook his head. Shrugging, Ace started trying to cut the deck with one hand, and flip the halves over with his thumb. He only succeeded in spilling most of the deck onto the floorboard and seats. Peter reached over, obediently helping him gather up the cards and handing them back over. Ace winked, taking the stack.

           “What’s on your mind, anyway, Cat?”

           “Nothing.”

           “Bullshit.” Ace said it lightly. “You’re not really worried about whether Gene’s made it with him or not.”

           “God, no.” The thought was more disturbing than it needed to be. “It’s just that I should’ve figured it out from the start.” Peter let out an irritated breath. “Gene only saw him once and figured it out. It took me three times. Paul had to tell me before I—"

           “Hey, you got him, that’s the important thing.”

           “Yeah, but… he wasn’t good at pretending the first time. He called me Pete. And the second time, he kept trying to tell me—”

           “Pete, c’mon, you weren’t expecting him to look like that—”

           “Makes me think I don’t really know him.”

           Ace looked at him almost sadly. He’d stopped fiddling with the deck of cards, setting them on his thigh.

           “You know him better than you think.”

           “You think so?”

           “Positive.” Ace’s head jerked up suddenly. Peter’s gaze followed his, and he saw the beleaguered limo driver heading out of the restaurant, with two sackfuls of barbeque sandwiches, fries, and a couple of sodas. Ace put an unnecessary finger to his lips as the driver opened their door and handed over the sacks. “Hey, man, thanks. Didja get yourself anything?”

           “I shouldn’t eat on the job.”

           “C’mon, I used to drive cabs, I’d eat in there all the time.” Ace cackled, digging awkwardly in his back pocket. “Get some food if you want. Then come back in here. We’ll play some poker before you take us over.”

           “You’re not worried about the time?”

           “Nah. I got the time if you got the money.” He grinned. “Hey, hey, Petey’ll spot you, right?”

           “I ain’t spotting anyone.”

           “Then the best hand gets… aw, hell, I dunno. You beat us three times in a row and we’ll bring you into the disco, you dig?”

           As the driver sidled into the back of the limo, Peter scooted over to give him room. Five minutes later, barbeque sandwich in one hand, a straight in the other, Peter decided they were going to be late after all.

[littlejeanniebean]

The Outsiders | Sodapop x Cocoa | Part 2

A/N: You can read part 1 here! This cute family photo is from @ohmy80s​ :) - J xx

In the coming days, I rack up a phone bill so high, Darry just about has a heart attack when he gets the bill in the mail. I picked up an extra shift at the DX to cover it, but it was worth it to get to know Cocoa.

She's in her senior year, reigning champion at an interstate math competition, wants to become a banker, but will settle for professor at a women's college. She's been living with her aunt since her mama died, doesn't know who her daddy is, and more importantly, doesn't care. She applied to UCLA and is waiting on pins and needles to hear back. 

I know she'll get in. She's too smart not to. Now while I might feel a certain way about her, I like to consider myself a man of honor. I know I'm never leaving unless Ponyboy becomes a famous author and Darry can finally reach his full potential because he doesn't have to support us anymore. So for the record, she kissed me first. I did kiss her back, but in my defense, she kissed me good. 

"You look like one of 'em actors, you know," she says breathlessly after our seventh kiss in the empty football field at her school. We never talked about it, but we both know we can’t tell anyone about us.

"Like one of the good ones?" I tease.

"No, the trashy ones who look better than they act," Cocoa deadpanned.

She meant it to be funny. I meant it to be funny. But hearing her say it aloud made me flinch and she noticed.

"Poppie?"

"It's fine."

"No, it's not," she cups my cheeks in her warm hands, "You're a wonderful person and beautiful thing is you don't even need to think about it -"

"Wonderful never made anything of anyone," I try to make her understand, "Wonderful… can't help you get where you wanna go, Cocoa."

"Where is it you think I wanna go?" she sits back on her haunches, hands on her hips, "Where is it you think I wanna be other than right here with you, hmm?"

I can't tell if she's mad at me or something else, so I shrug neutrally, "LA maybe?"

"... Maybe," she concedes, "A big maybe."

"I'm sorry. I like you. A lot. We can… How about we just enjoy this?" I'm nothing if not a people pleaser, apparently.

Cocoa smiles and runs her thumb across my lips, "Think you might be enjoying it a little too much. Got lipstick all over your face, shugga…"

I start the kiss this time. 

She gets her letter the next day. A big, fat one, she calls to say. That's a good sign, she says, but I can tell she's still nervous. So I tell her I'll come over and we can open it together. I buy a stick of cinnamon gum for her to mark the occasion. She's leaving right after graduation. Her aunt has a cousin who has a grandmother who runs a boarding house for girls where she can stay, get a job before the first semester. I tell her I’m proud of her and the way she smiles all wide makes me believe I mean it. 

The next day, I go to work, idle at the pumps mostly. This one guy drives up in a hurry in a rusty pickup filled with sour-faced boys and men.

“Fill ‘er up quick, man,” his beefy arm is hanging out the window and he bangs on the side of his door to punctuate his sentence, fidgeting with his cigarette.

“Sure,” I amble over in a kinda relaxed way, but this isn’t my first rodeo. The boys have swastika tattoos. There’s a gun barrel poking out of the tarpaulin in the basin and I pretend not to see it. I’m good with faces, so I try to get a good look at as many of them as I can.

As soon as they drive away, I call the cops. It takes a minute to get through and the voice of the lady in dispatch is tight and rushed.

When I tell her about the gang’s tattoos she mutters, “Should know better than to put up a school right next to a greaser neighborhood... Thanks for the tip, kid.”

I’m running down the street before the words really make it all the way into my brain. There are three ambulances outside Cocoa’s school, a bunch of students in clusters outside. Sirens and people are wailing. 

I see one of the girls she walks with, “Have you seen Cocoa?”

She shakes her head, fat tears streaking down her face.

Weaving through the crowd, I keep thinking I see her, I keep hoping, but each time it’s someone else. 

I’m calling her name, getting strange looks, but I keep calling ‘cause I can’t see no more. I rub the wetness out of my eyes and run to the Holy Mary Hospital - a colored hospital. It’s farther than it should be from their neighborhood, but it was the only tract of land big enough that they could buy. 

I give her name to the receptionist. She’s in the OR. I have to wait. I can’t think straight, so I go to the payphone and call Darry at his new job bookkeeping at the garage and tell him everything.

“Hold up, I know that gang,” he says.

“No, they’re not from around here, I woulda recognized ‘em,” I tell him.

“No, no, listen, call Two-Bit and the Shepherds, tell ‘em to meet me at the garage.”

“What are you gonna do, Darry?” 

“Somethin’ the cops would never get around to,” he hangs up.

I do what he asks, but then I go pick up Pony from school and bring him to the garage with me.

“What are you doing here?” Darry gets in my face immediately, “Why’d you bring Pony into this?”

“I didn’t bring him into anything,” I meet his gaze steadily, “unless you’re ‘bout to do somethin’.”

“This is our territory. If those guys wanna come around here, packing heat, they gotta answer to us.”

“Did you ask them to meet us here?” 

“Yeah, so?”

“Call it in.”

“They ain’t gonna do shit, Soda,” Two-Bit drawls.

“‘Sides, punching a Nazi every now and then is good for the soul,” Steve finally comes out from under the Mustang he's been fiddling with and wipes the grease off his hands.

Shepherd, his crew, and some of the other mechanics stand off to the side, eyes watchful and glinting like coyotes. 

“When the perps are starin’ ‘em in the face, they can’t ignore ‘em,” I face Darry, but talk loud enough to make everyone uneasy, “The Nazis ain’t like us. This ain’t gonna be no rumble. It’ll turn into a fucking massacre.”

Darry runs his hands through the grease in his hair once. Twice. “Call it in! Clear out, boys! Let’s let these motherfuckers dig their own graves and rot in them.”

There are murmurs of agreement, some big-talk about how they woulda taken the Nazis in the fight, but we’re outta there fast. 

“Want us to go in with ya, Soda?” Pony offers when Darry pulls up at the hospital.

“No, thanks, Pony,” I hop out. 

Ignoring the way my palms sweat and my knees shake at the thought, I ask the receptionist if Cocoa’s out of the OR and doing alright. 

“She is.”

I exhale.

“But only family is allowed to visit,” the lady looks me up and down with a deep judgement carved into the downturn of her mouth.

I’ve been in hospitals before and know that’s a load of crap, but I appreciate her looking out of Cocoa, so I nod and back away.

“How’s she, Soda?” Darry asks.

“She’s good,” I smile a little just thinking about it.

“It just came on the radio!” Ponyboy grips my arm excitedly, waking me at five in the morning, “They got ‘em! They got those sleazy mother-”

"Language!" yells Darry from the shower.

"Motherfuckers," Pony whispers to me.

“Great,” I mumble, realize what he means, then throw myself into a sitting position, “That’s great!”

Darry whistles on his way to work, Ponyboy forgets the time because he’s writing his next story and I have to get him out of the house before leaving myself. I buy a stick of cinnamon gum at the DX and go to the hospital on my lunch hour. 

I have what the boys like to call the gift of persuasion, but really I just keep my head down, look up and smile if I feel anyone staring too long, and walk on by. That’s how I’m able to find Cocoa’s room. She’s asleep, so I leave the gum on the nightstand and kiss her forehead. When I turn around to leave, her aunt is standing in the doorway with a lunch tray. 

“Ma’am,” I say, because what other option did I have?

“You the Curtis boy, ain’t ya?”

“The middle of three, yes, ma’am,” I pull up the chair for her and she sits down.

“The one who didn’t finish school.”

I thought of Cocoa, smiling wide, telling me I’m wonderful and I tip an invisible hat to her aunt on my way out, “Yes, ma’am. Please let me know if either of you need anything.”

[write-havoc]

The Glasswing Butterfly Part 16

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

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

Fandom: The Walking Dead AU

Pairing: Negan/Original Female Character

Status: Ongoing

Contains: swearing, smut

Intended for readers 18+ of age only

Masterlist in my bio

“Lose the tie.”

Chuck’s voice makes Negan turn from his own reflection in the mirror to the doorway where she stands. “You think?” he asks. “I’m trying to make a good impression here,” he replies with a boyish smirk.

She walks over to him and lightly tugs the tie loose from his collar. “The button up and jacket is enough. A tie will just look too formal.” She pulls the cloth free and drapes it around her own neck. “And you know those teenagers will want to drop you down a peg if they think you’re too serious.”

“Fuck. You’re right.” He smoothes his hands down his chest as he turns back to check himself out in the mirror.

“Are you nervous?”

He gives her a look. “No.”

She giggles. “Yes you are! You’re nervous about your first day teaching again.”

“It’s not exactly teaching . I’m fuckin’ substituting. It’s more like goddamn babysitting .”

“But you’re still nervous,” she teases.

“My kids loved the shit outta me back in the day. Guarantee those little fuckers at Alexandria High are gonna love me, too.”

“I know they will.” She leans up to kiss him. “You better get going.”

He looks at his watch. “Shit. Yeah.”

“At least it’s only the last few periods today. Start you off easy to begin with.”

“Yeah. I’ll see you later, baby.”

With a kiss goodbye, Negan heads out of the house and to the school. The teacher he’s subbing for is one of the English teachers, so he’s directed to her room. As he walks into the classroom before the last bell rings, he sees her sitting at her desk waiting for him. She’s a beta, about middle aged with shoulder length graying dark hair and a few extra ponds around the middle.

“Mr. Negan,” she greets.

He shakes her hand. “Just Negan is fine.”

“Thanks for coming in.”

“It’s no problem.”

She gathers her bags from the desk. “I really don’t miss much work,” she starts, almost apologetically, “but I’m picking up my cat from the vet. He just got fixed and they aren’t open later.”

He immediately shelves the joke on his tongue about hoping her pussy feels better. “Don’t wanna leave him there overnight. He’ll claw your furniture to get back at you when you get him home,” he settles on instead.

“Probably.” She laughs. “I left instructions on the desk for you. Just have the kids read whatever story I wrote down and tell them we’ll discuss it tomorrow.”

“Alright then.”

As she leaves the room, the kids, all juniors, start to file in. Negan writes his name on the board and waits for everyone to show up. Once the last bell rings, he takes his place at the front of the room, leaning on the podium to address the students.

“Alright. First thing’s first, I’m Negan.” He points to the board. “Just Negan. Not Mr. Negan or Professor Negan or whatever. Secondly, if I start swearing, are any of y’all gonna go crying to your parents?”

The students all look around at each other but don’t say anything to indicate they would.

“Good.” Negan walks over to the desk to read over the instructions left for him. “Your teacher wants you guys to read The Yellow Wallpaper so you can talk about it next class. Page 134 in your literature books. I’m gonna read that shit too and I’m a fast fuckin’ reader so if you guys start fucking around before I’m done, I’m gonna know that you’re not reading your shit.”

The kids are taken aback by his language, but it’s refreshing for them to hear a teacher speaking that way.

“Any questions before we get this shit started?”

One boy holds up his hand and Negan nods at him to proceed. “Can we say fuck?”

“Does your teacher usually let you say fuck?” Negan counters.

The boy shakes his head.

“Then the answer’s no. This is still her fuckin’ classroom, so you follow her rules.” He points to another raised hand, this one belonging to a girl.

“Are you an alpha?” she asks.

He chuckles a little at her bluntness. “Yup. I’m an alpha. You got any other alpha teachers here?”

The students shake their heads. It’s not surprising that there aren’t any other alphas here; teaching isn’t one of the fields alphas usually gravitate to. But it never bothered Negan before to go against convention. He was a great teacher and he’s planning on being one again.

“Well,” Negan replies, “then, I’m the only one here. It’s not exactly an important distinction, though. I’m a fuckin’ teacher, just like all the rest of them.” He sits behind the desk and pulls the class’s book out to find the story. “Now get reading.”

The next two periods go about the same; he answers the same “Are you an alpha?” question two more times then gets the kids to read their assignment. The last class, all seniors, reads several poems, which doesn’t take too long to finish.

“Since y’all are finished and we have about twenty minutes left,” Negan starts as he looks down at his watch, “why don’t you just work on homework or some shit.”

One of the boys in the class slowly raises his hand.

“Yes?” Negan calls out to him.

“Are you the Negan than killed the Redhead Killer?” the boy tentatively asks.

As the rest of the students look to Negan for his answer, he lets out a sigh. “Look.” He rubs his hand over his chin as she stands from his chair to sit back down on the front of the desk facing the students. “I’m sure you’ve all fuckin’ seen the articles and shit on the internet. Guarantee you’ve got all the fuckin’ information you can already, so you don’t need the goddamn play by play from me. But I get it. There’s a fuckin’ fascination with crime and shit. God knows I know that. I dodged fuckin’ reporters for weeks and I never once talked about that day with them. You wanna know why?”

The kids all stare wide eyed at him, waiting for him to finish his thought.

“It’s not because I’m ashamed of what I did. Fuck no, I’m not ashamed. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Was it fucked up? Yeah. But I would do anything to make sure my mate is safe. And the law backed me up.” He lets out a breath. “No, the reason I never talked about it was because it’s none of anyone’s fucking business.” His voice is stern, but not angry. “That shit that happened was between me, my woman, and a sick piece of shit that shouldn’t have been allowed to even breathe the same air we do. And now he doesn’t.”

The students all look around nervously, like they’re being scolded.

“I fuckin’ understand. There’s not a lot of juicy shit that happens here in the suburbs. Then this fuckin’ alpha comes in that was in the goddamn news a few moths ago and you wanna know all about it. But I’m not gonna talk about it. Least of all with you kids. They’d probably fire my ass if I did. And I’d like to keep my job, thank you. Especially since I’m gonna be full time next year. So I’ll make a deal. You all respect my privacy when it comes to that particular event in my life and I’ll be an open book about everything else.” He pauses to look everyone over. “Mostly,” he tacks on. “Anything that won’t get me fired, anyways.”

A girl suddenly speaks up, taking his offer to be open with them seriously. “Are you really mated?”

“Yes,” he answers quickly.

“Is she your true mate?” she asks again. “Like-Like they said in the news?”

Negan considers it with a sigh. “It ain’t like the Disney movies, but...” He shrugs a little. “I guess we’re fuckin’ different from most other pairs.”

“Are you sad that she’s not here right now?”

He scrunches up his face. “I don’t have to be around her 24/7,” he answers with some attitude. “That’s one of those Disney shit things. We can fuckin’ be away from each other without falling apart.”

“How much do you bench press?” a boy close to him asks. “Since... you’re stronger, right?” he adds.

Negan snickers. “Fuck, I don’t know. I ain’t a superhero; I’m just an alpha.”

“Do you go into rut?” another voice calls out.

“Shit, you guys are curious fuckers,” he mutters as he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, I go into rut, but I’m not gonna go into details, you little pervs. That falls under shit-that-will-get-me-fired.”

There are a few giggles across the room.

The questions keep coming. “Do you have any kids?”

“No.”

“Why not? Isn’t that why you take a mate?”

Negan lets out a little chuckle, though it’s not really with humor. “Don’t you have any alpha/omega health classes here to get all this info from?”

They shake their heads.

Negan is a little surprised by that. He thought that learning about all the presentations would be in the general curriculum. “Shit. That’s kinda fucked up.” He wipes his hand over his forehead, thinking that maybe part of his job here should be to set these kids straight with regards to this. “Mated pairs are just like beta couples. They can decide not to have children if they fuckin’ want. Or maybe they can’t fuckin’ have children even if they want to. It fuckin’ happens. Mates aren’t just fuckin’ baby machines like some people might have you believe. We’re people . We might have stronger urges, but we’re fuckin’ people first. Just like all of you.”

Understanding seems to wash over them, but there is still a sense of confusion there. It’s more than likely that these kids haven’t really had a lot of experience with alphas or omegas, considering this area is more suburban and less populated than the city. This means that they are a little ignorant of how those groups actually are, instead of just how they are portrayed in the media.

When the final bell rings, the students rush out of the room, ready to get home for the day. As Negan gathers up his things at the desk, he hears a soft knock on the door frame. Raising his head, he sees a good looking beta woman, early thirties, in a pencil skirt and a low cut white blouse. Her dark hair falls around her face in waves, though she makes sure to throw it over one shoulder.

“How was your first day?” she asks as she walks further into the room.

He looks back down to his bag. “It was fuckin’ fine.”

“I’m Lara. Lara Kline.” She holds out her hand for him to shake. “I’m another English teacher. My room’s just across the hall.”

He accepts her hand and shakes it. “Negan,” he greets.

“It’s been a while since we’ve had a new face here. And I hear you’ll be taking over P.E. next year.” She gives him a smile and tucks some of her hair behind her ear.

“News travels fast, huh?”

She shrugs. “I suppose.” She takes another step toward him. “You used to teach, right? This isn’t your first go.”

“I taught for about a decade. Quit for about a decade.” He stands fully and swings his bag over his shoulder. “It was nice meeting you, but I got my mate waiting at home for me.”

He knows she’s flirting with him. And if it were a year ago, he’d be all over her. But now? He’s not even remotely interested. Sure, she’s attractive. And she’s trying her hardest to be sexy, if that extra undone button on her blouse has anything to say. But it’s just not doing anything for him right now.

“Oh,” she replies. “You’re mated?”

“Yeah.” He starts to walk out of the room. “See ya later,” he calls back. He didn’t really want to indulge her any, but he didn’t want to be rude. Especially since he’s going to be seeing her quite often sooner or later. Hopefully she got the hint that he’s not interested.

Despite the awkward end to the day, the whole ride home, Negan smiles. He didn’t really do much today, but it still felt good for him to be back in the classroom again. After he pulls into the garage and parks his Challenger, he pats his Harley as he passes it.

“Soon, my girl,” he says out loud. He hasn’t gotten a chance to work on the bike yet, since the weather has been too cold to really do so. But when spring arrives and those first warm days come along, he’ll be out in the driveway getting her road ready.

Before he gets to the door to the house, it opens and Chuck comes to stand in the doorway.

“Did it go well?” she asks excitedly.

He gives her a quick kiss then walks past her into the living room. “It was good.” He sets his bag down on the couch before sitting down beside it.

“Any trouble with the kids?”

When she sits down next to him, he wraps his arm around her and pulls her in closer to him. “Nope. Though I had one kid ask about...” he looks over to her, “that shit.”

It’s obvious to her what he means. “Oh.” She looks away for a moment, then cuddles up to his side. “What’d you say?”

“I told them I wasn’t gonna fuckin’ talk about it. But I said I’d talk about anything else. Which might’ve been a goddamn mistake because they were asking questions left and right about being an alpha. I guess they’ve never learned about us before.”

“Really? That’s weird. My high school was smaller than this one and we had classes on alpha and omega development.”

“Yeah. I don’t know. I guess it’s not in the fuckin’ curriculum here.”

“What if you did it? Couldn’t you get the certification to teach a health class like that?”

He shrugs. “Probably. But if the powers that fuckin’ be don’t already think learning about people like us is important already, they’re probably not gonna change their fuckin’ minds any time soon.”

“Tell them how curious the kids are.” She shrugs a shoulder. “It won’t hurt too ask.”

Sighing, he wipes his hand over his beard. “I suppose.”

 That Sunday, Negan hosts a Super Bowl party for Rick, Carl, and Simon. Even if none of their preferred teams are playing (Redskins for both Negan and Simon and the Falcons for Carl and Rick), they can all band together to root against the Patriots.

Negan is a little nervous about Simon meeting Chuck for the first time. Even though he’s been nothing but friendly for as long as he’s known him, Simon is still an alpha. He just hopes everything will go smoothly so he won’t have to cut ties with the man.

Rick and Carl arrive first, naturally, since they live only a few houses away. They end up bringing some snacks, chips and salsa, which they set up in the living room. After Rick and Carl get a quick tour of the house, everyone settles down in front of the tv.

Rick grabs a chip before before commenting on the house. “It’s nice. It’s set up a little bit differently from ours, though.”

“It’s perfect for us,” Negan replies with a look over to Chuck beside him.

“Hey,” Carl cuts in. “Are you teaching at my school now?” he asks Negan. “Someone told me you were there.”

“I substituted the other day,” Negan answers. “Didn’t see you.”

“I’m in Miss Kline’s English class,” Carl clarifies.

“Oh.” Negan chuckles. “I met her.”

Rich laughs, too, like they’re sharing a joke. He has met the woman before, so he knows what probably happened already.

“What?” Chuck asks, picking up on the vibes.

Negan thinks of how to frame the the answer. “She’s, uh...”

Carl jumps right in to complete the thought. “She’s hot.”

Rick shakes his head at Carl’s candor, though he’s still laughing.

Raising her eyebrows at this information, Chuck turns to Negan. “She’s hot ?”

“She’s got nothing on you.” Negan pulls Chuck into him and kisses the top of her head. “You got nothing to worry about.”

She believes him, but it still has a twinge of jealousy blooming inside her. “I’ll keep that in mind.

When Simon finally comes in, with a case of beer under his arm, things are tense for a few moments. Simon is careful not to move too quickly towards Chuck, just in case Negan would take it the wrong way. He truly doesn’t want to cause any problems, so he holds his hand out, allowing Chuck to come to him to take it. Thankfully, once they actually do shake hands, the tension dissipates.

“I’m just gonna come right out and say it,” Simon starts. “You smell like my sister.”

Chuck giggles a little, not expecting that. “Really?”

“You have a sister?” Negan asks. Simon had never mentioned her before now.

“Yeah. She pretty much forbade me from telling other alphas about her. Especially single ones. But since you’re mated now...” He shrugs then turns back to Chuck. “But, yeah. You smell a lot like her.”

That makes Negan relax some. Alphas are usually very protective of their family members, especially their omega family, so if Chuck smells like Simon’s sister, maybe he’ll see her more as family than a potential mate.

“Do I smell like your brother?” Simon asks Chuck, wondering if it goes both ways.

“I don’t have a brother. Or any alpha family, actually. I came from beta parents.”

Rick looks surprised. “Really? I didn’t know that was possible.”

“It’s not common,” she says to Rick then turns back to Simon. “But you smell...” she thinks of how to describe it, “I guess... sort of... safe . At least safer than most other alphas I’ve met. Maybe that’s sorta like brotherly.” She shrugs then looks over to Negan for a moment. “It’s hard to describe.”

Negan just nods, his fears about Simon being a threat thankfully allayed.

As the game gets underway, Chuck tries her hardest to get into it. She was never one for sports, so it’s a little rough going. Usually when Negan would watch football, she’d be doing something on her laptop or iPad, but she’s actually trying to pay attention now.

“Oh, come on!”

“Fuck!”

“You kidding me?!”

Something happened that has the men all upset, but she isn’t sure what. It entertains her, though, seeing them all get worked up over it.

“Not going well?” she finally asks.

Negan lets out a huff. “If that fucker Tom Brady gets another Super Bowl ring...”

“They’re a bunch of cheaters!” Carl adds. “They don’t deserve it!”

Chuck just giggles, wondering who Tom Brady is. When halftime comes around, Negan grills off some burgers for everyone to eat, even though they’ve been stuffing their faces with snacks the whole time.

“How’s Michonne?” Chuck asks Rick as they sit around the dining room table to eat.

He quickly wipes his mouth before speaking. “She’s good. Got a lot of work coming in now after-“ He stops himself from completing the thought. Since she had been Negan’s lawyer during the whole Eldritch situation, her name had been thrown around quite a bit, making her more recognizable. It didn’t even really matter that she never set foot in a court room for that, since no charges were brought against Negan.

Chuck just nods. “That’s good, I guess.”

“She’s a good woman,” Negan comments to Rick. “How the hell’d she end up with your sorry ass?”

Rick laughs. “I don’t know.”

“I still owe her for all the shit she did for me,” Negan adds.

Rick nods. “I’m sure she’d just say she was doing her job.” He turns over to Simon. “So, what do you do, Simon?”

“I own a bar in Charlottesville,” he answers. “That’s where I met Negan.”

“It’s a little weird, alphas being friends, isn’t it?” Carl asks.

Negan just shrugs. “Simon’s never done anything to make me hate him.”

“It’s not always competition,” Simon clarifies. “Alphas can butt heads a lot, but we can be friends, too. Though I wouldn’t have called Negan much of a friend until recently. More like an acquaintance.”

“Just come right out and say I was an asshole,” Negan jokes.

“Not really an asshole,” Simon clarifies. “More like you couldn’t be bothered with having a friend.”

Negan nods thinking it over. “That’s fair. But shit changed.” He gives Chuck a quick wink, letting her know that she had a hand in that change.

Once the game is over and the men are all mad that the Patriots did actually win, they start to bid their farewells.

Before Rick leaves, he mentions to Negan that some of the guys in town run a fantasy football league. “I wasn’t in it this year, but I can introduce you to the guys next season if you want.”

“Shit yeah! I used to love fantasy football. Haven’t done it in years.”

Simon speaks up. “Can I get in on that, too?”

Rick nods. “Yeah. I’m sure they’d accept you guys.”

 As Chuck and Negan’s first Valentine’s Day comes around, they plan on a nice dinner together at home. Negan actually has to work during the day, but he’s planning on cooking dinner for the two of them once he gets home.

In between classes, Negan heads off to the teacher’s lounge to grab a cup of coffee. Once he walks in, he hears two female teachers talking as they stand in front of the coffee machine. One woman he doesn’t know and the other is Lara Kline, the flirty English teacher he met on his first day.

“Could you imagine?” the unknown woman continues, both of them not realizing that they’re no longer alone.

“Oh, I imagine it. A lot ,” Lara says with a giggle.

“He is hot. But an alpha? Wouldn’t he be rough?”

“I wouldn’t mind. I’ve always wanted to be with an alpha in rut,” Lara says dreamily. “And he is just perfect.”

“You kinky bitch.” As the woman laughs, she happens to turn her head to see Negan standing in the doorway. “Oh, shit.”

He had a feeling they were talking about him, but her reaction upon seeing him confirms it. He decides not to acknowledge it, though. “Ladies,” he greets then pushes forward to the coffee machine.

The unknown woman quickly leaves the room, too embarrassed to see what Negan might say. Lara, on the other hand, stays rooted to her spot, watching Negan as he pours the coffee into his cup.

“The offer’s there,” she coos quietly.

He flicks his gaze to her. “And what offer is that?”

She takes a step toward him. “I think you heard what we were talking about,” she whispers. “It is Valentine’s Day, after all.

Chuckling lightly, Negan leans forward to place his mouth next to her ear. “The answer’s no. I have a fuckin’ mate.” When he backs away, he sees the smile on her face fall, turning her expression into a scowl.

“Does that really matter?” she bites back.

His own face falls into a dangerous expression. “It’s all that fuckin’ matters,” he growls.

Lara takes a quick step back, her eyes still focused on his as she tries to determine just how serious he is. She’s heard that even if alphas are possessive of their omegas, they’re not exempt from stepping out on them.

Negan, being completely done with this conversation, picks up his coffee cup and turns away from the woman just as the bell rings.

At the end of the day, he decides to stop off at Jo’s office. He knocks twice on her opened door and waits for her to look up at him.

“Negan,” she greets happily. “Come in.” She gestures to the chair in front of her desk.

Negan takes the seat, letting out a breath as he sits back and crosses his leg to rest his ankle over his knee. “I need to cover my ass on something.”

Jo raises her eyebrow at him as she pulls the reading glasses off of her nose. “Alright,” she says slowly. She’s not exactly worried about what he’ll say next; despite not knowing him for long, she trusts him.

Before she okayed Negan to work at her school, she did her research on him. His past work as a teacher was remarkable, and his sudden departure from the field was certainly understandable given his wife’s death. When his more recent history came up, she had quite a bit to think about. It was during their first phone calls that she really made her decision. His attitude was just so refreshing that she knew he would bring something to the school that it has been sorely lacking. That being, a new perspective.

He scratches at his beard before speaking. “Lara Kline,” he starts to explain. “She flirted with me my first day. Came onto me harder today.”

Jo nods, listening to him. “What’d she do?”

“I walked in on her talking to some other fuckin’ teacher about wanting to fuck an alpha in rut. Then she said ‘the offer stands’ or some shit. I told her I wasn’t interested.”

“Do you want to fill out paperwork for it? Harassment claim?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t wanna get the girl in trouble. I just wanna cover my ass. Just in case.”

“I’ll write a memo.” She studies him a moment before letting out a breath. “You know, I legally can’t ask you about your cycle.”

He gives her a smile, knowing where this is going. “I’m aware.”

“However, if you need a few days off now and again...”

“I’m fine talking about it, I don’t give a shit. I’m not gonna get the fuckin’ Alpha League to sue you or anything.”

She shrugs a shoulder. “That’s good to know.”

“Chuck-“ he pauses. “Chuck’s my mate. It’s her nickname,” he explains, knowing it might sound weird. “Anyway, she doesn’t do suppressants so heats come every few months. It can be irregular.” He doesn’t want to get too detailed, but he figures Jo should know. “Last heat was end of November, so...”

“We should expect you to need some time off in a week or two,” she completes the thought.

He nods once. “Probably.”

“It’s not much of a big deal now that you’re a substitute. You can just tell us you can’t come in. Next year when you’re full time? We’ll have to make plans. But it’s still doable.”

“I promise it won’t be fuckin’ distracting.”

“That’s good.”

“You know, the kids really don’t know shit about alphas or omegas.”

“Really?”

“No. They asked me a lot of shit about it. Most of them believe fuckin’ stereotypes about us.”

“That’s pretty unfortunate, I suppose.”

“It really fuckin’ is. I was kinda fuckin’ shocked that there aren’t any alpha/omega health classes here.”

She smiles, figuring out where this is going. “Are you suggesting that we add a class, Negan?”

“I think you should.”

“And would you happen to know someone with the proper certificate to do so?” she asks with a lilt.

He chuckles at her tone. “I know of someone that can get the certificate before the start of next year.”

“Well, I think it would be a great idea, Negan.” She gives him a smile, knowing that the two of them are in agreement.

While Negan is at work, Chuck tries to think of what she can do for him for their first Valentine’s Day. She knows he’s planning on cooking a meal for them, so she decides to make a dessert. Sifting through a bunch of online recipes, she settles on strawberry cheesecake. After heading out to get the ingredients, she gets to work on the dessert. It’s not the most complicated dish, but it’s a little bit of an ordeal because she has never made anything like it before. Once she gets it all done, the kitchen is a mess, but she’s happy with the results.

“That looks fuckin’ good,” Negan comments from his spot by the archway to the kitchen, his voice startling her.

“Jeez” she clutches her chest. “You scared me! I didn’t hear you come home.”

He walks over to give her a kiss. “Just got here. Saw all this.” He gestures around the room with a chuckle.

“I’ll clean it up.”

“Nah. I got it. You go rest up before dinner.”

“You’re the one that just got home from work.”

“And I’m the one that’s gonna make you a nice ass dinner.” He shoos her out of the kitchen. “I want it to be a fuckin’ surprise.”

“More like you don’t want me messing up your kitchen any further.”

He chuckles. “I would never say that,” he says, faking offense.

“Yeah. You wouldn’t say that. But you’d imply it.”

He laughs as he turns back into the kitchen. Chuck takes this opportunity to get ready for the meal. While she was out today, she bought herself a new dress (and some other things) hoping to surprise Negan by dressing up a little.

She pulls on the black sheath dress with a sweetheart neckline and tries to do her makeup. She’s not too practiced on that front, so she settles for a simple eye with bold red lipstick. Her hair, which she usually only wears one of two ways (down or in pigtail buns), is pulled up into a messy updo. It takes a little fiddling with to get it to look like the sexy kind of messy and not the unkempt kind, but she gets it right in the end.

When Negan yells up the stairs that dinner is ready, she’s just about done.

“I’ll be right down,” she calls out. Giving herself a final look in the mirror, she heads downstairs then into the dining room.

Negan is waiting for her by her chair, ready to pull it out for her when she walks through the archway. He lets out a low whistle once he sees her.

“Shit, baby girl. You got all dolled up for me?”

“I tried.” She giggles then walks over to him.

He gives her a quick kiss before helping her to sit down. “You look amazing.” He takes his seat across the table from her. “I shoulda freshened up.”

“It smells delicious.” Once she takes her first bite, she lets out a soft moan. “It is delicious. You’re such a good cook. I think I’m going to gain weight living with you,” she jokes.

He laughs. “I will cook for you however much you fuckin’ want. No matter how much you want.”

“How did you get so good in the kitchen? Didn’t you say you cooked with your mom?”

He pauses a moment before answering. “Yeah. I used to cook with her when I was little. My father...” he lets out a heavy breath, “he didn’t let her do shit. He controlled every fuckin’ aspect of her life. Except in the kitchen. That was all hers and she was a fuckin’ master. She taught me a lot before she died.”

Chuck just nods, not wanting to push Negan into saying more. He had never really talked about his mother much, the subject being a painful one for him.

“She taught you well,” she says with a soft smile.

“I didn’t cook for a lotta years actually,” he continues. “I presented alpha not long after my mom died and my father told me that cooking was ‘omega’s work’.” He shrugs. “That was that. Until I rented my first apartment with a decent kitchen. I picked it back up. Cooked all kinds of shit.”

“Maybe you can teach me. Most of the stuff I cook is just frozen pizza,” she jokes.

“If you want I can.” His lips curl up in a smile. “Or I can just keep on taking care of you. I kinda like it,” he comments with a bite of his lower lip.

Once the meal is eaten, Chuck brings out her cheesecake. “I hope it’s good. I think I followed the recipe right.”

They both sit down with their slices and look up to each other.

“Smells like fuckin’ cheesecake,” Negan calls out before stabbing his fork in and shoveling a big bite into his mouth. “It’s fuckin’ good,” he mumbles out with his mouth full.

Chuck takes her first bite. “It is good,” she comments, relieved that it isn’t horrible. “It’s really rich, though.”

“This is your go to dessert now.” He takes another big bite. “I love this shit.”

She giggles. “I think if I make this a lot we’re both gonna get fat.” She take a generous bite. “And diabetes,” she ads.

“Worth it.”

With the table cleared, Negan starts to pull Chuck to the garage door.

“What are you doing?” she asks confused.

“Your present is out here.”

“Oh? I thought the meal was my present.”

They walk through the door and down the steps to Negan’s car. “This is a little unconventional of a gift,” he starts as he opens the back door, “so I hope you fuckin’ like it.” He leans down into the car and pulls out a dark purple motorcycle helmet, handing it to a bewildered Chuck.

“It’s a helmet,” she says simply.

“ Your helmet. For when I get the bike up and running.” He looks at her expression for a moment, not able to properly decode it. “Do you hate it?”

She gives him a wide smile. “No. I love it! I’m happy you want to include me with all your motorcycle stuff.”

“Shit, I thought I fucked up there.”

“I would love anything you’d give me.”

He chuckles. “Is that so?”

“Yeah. I don’t really expect you to give me anything, though. You don’t have to.”

“I like giving you shit.” He gives her a quick kiss then bends back down to take another helmet out of his car. This one is black, though it seems to be the same brand as hers, just larger. “We can put these on this shelf until we’re ready to fuckin’ wear them.”

After storing away their new headwear, it’s Chuck’s turn to take Negan by the hand, leading them upstairs to their room.

“I got you a gift, too.” She produces a small box from her nightstand and hands it to him.

“You didn’t have to do that shit.” He accepts the box and opens it, revealing two nice cufflinks. They’re silver and black with an N monogrammed on both in a fancy font.

“I don’t know a lot about cufflinks, so I hope they’re okay.”

“They’re fuckin’ perfect.” He wraps an arm around Chuck and brings her in for a kiss.

“That’s not the end of your gift.” She pulls away from him and turns around, pointing over her shoulder to prompt him to unzip her dress.

With a wide smile on his face, he drags a hand up her waist and over to the zipper, pulling it down slowly. “I’m liking where this is going,” he whispers in her ear.

Once the zipper is opened, he runs both of his hands across her shoulders, dropping her dress to the ground. She turns around to face him, placing her hands on his chest.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, putting his hands on her hips and pushing her away to get a good look at her. “Goddamn, baby girl.” He bites his lip as he takes the sight of her in. “I like this,” he groans as he ghosts his hands over her.

Once she left the store after buying her dress earlier today, she had seen a lingerie shop right across the street. It gave her the idea to do something that she never really did before, buy sexy underwear. The nice shop girl had helped her pick out a black lace balconette bra with matching panties complete with a garter belt holding up nude thigh highs with a seam up the back.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Chuck says as alluringly as she can.

Negan runs one hand down her thigh, unhooking the clip from her suspender. He repeats the action on the other side, allowing him to pull her stockings down and off her feet. Still knelt down before her, he lays his hands on her hips and pulls her into him to place a kiss just below her belly button.

Giggling at the contact, Chuck runs her hands through his hair. As she looks down at him, she wonders how she got so lucky to have this man as her mate.

He lifts his eyes up to hers, though he keeps his face close to her skin. “You know how fuckin’ much I love you?” His hands rove up from her bottom to the smooth skin of her back.

She bites her lip to try to hide her smile. “How much?”

He stands, pulling her body close to his as he places his mouth next to her ear. “More than anything,” he whispers.

A small gasp leaves her lips at his words before she can stop herself. “That’s a good answer,” she says with a smile on her face.

She takes her time unbuttoning Negan’s shirt, slowly sliding it off of his shoulders to pool behind him. Her hands run down his chest to his belt, unbuckling it then his pants. It only takes a little push for his slacks to fall down his narrow hips to join his shirt at his feet.

As soon as her fingers brush against his clothed bulge, he lets out a low groan. “Shit.”

She lets out a giggle at his reaction. He’s such a tough, strong man, but the lightest of touches from her can elicit such a reaction.

“Lay down on the bed,” she requests, though her hand pushing his chest makes it more of a demand.

He takes a few steps backwards until he can sit down on the bed, never taking his eyes off of her as she stands in front of him. Instead of carrying out her order to lay down, though, he snakes his arm around her back and unlatches her bra.

“As sexy as this shit is,” he pulls the garment off her then gives her bare breasts a squeeze, “I gotta see you.”

Something about how slow they’re going (or maybe it’s just the Valentine’s Day mood) has Chuck ready to go pretty quickly. That fact driven home even more so by the slick dampening her fancy new underwear. Once Negan takes off her garter belt and drags her panties down her legs, he lets out a low chuckle.

“I knew you were fuckin’ drenched,” he teases.

Her cheeks bloom red as she pushes back on his shoulder slightly. “Lay back.” Once he complies, she removes his boxers, freeing his straining erection. “Looks like someone’s excited,” she teases right back.

He suddenly jumps up, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her down under him.

“Negan!” she squeals as he covers her skin with kisses.

The playful affections turn heated quickly and within minutes, the pair are pawing at each other desperately. It isn’t until his knee slips between hers so he can position himself between her legs that she has a realization.

“Oh my god, Negan!” she yells and shoves him off her.

“What?!” he calls back in shock.

“The condom!”

“Shit, Chuck.” He drags his hand over his face as he lets out a heavy breath. “I thought something was fuckin’ wrong. I about had a heart attack.”

“Sorry. But you really would’ve had a heart attack if we remembered while you were knotting me.” She rolls over to open her nightstand, pulling out one of the omega condoms. “We’re almost out,” she comments once she sees into the box.

“Fuck. I’m gonna have to call the doctor then. And find a new fuckin’ pharmacy around here.”

After making sure that the night’s activities won’t result in any surprises in nine months, the fire between them builds back up quickly. When Chuck nudges Negan to lay on his back, he doesn’t fight it, deciding to do as she says. She crawls over over him to straddle his pelvis.

He can’t help but run his hands over her hips and up her sides. “On top, baby girl?”

“Is that okay?” she asks, his question stoking some of her insecurities that he wouldn’t want her like this.

“Fuck yes, it’s okay,” he answers enthusiastically.

With that, she wastes no time in sinking down onto him. Once he’s fully sheathed inside her, she lets out a soft moan.

“Mmm,” he responds in kind. “You feel so fuckin’ good.”

She starts up a slow pace, grinding her hips into his shallowly at first. When he starts to squirm underneath her, desperate for more, she lets out a breathy laugh.

“You’re teasing me, little girl,” he almost growls, but he lets her keep control.

After a few more moments, she finally lifts her hips, sliding herself up and down on him, though the pace is still slow. She finds that, despite wanting to draw this out, her body seems to be picking up the pace all on its own, circling her hips more quickly.

“Oh,” she moans as she moves her hands to brace herself on his chest, giving her more leverage.

“Shit,” Negan hisses as he bucks his hips up to meet hers.

As his knot starts to swell, he has to stop himself from flipping them over and pounding into her. Chuck seems to enjoy being the one in control right now, so he holds himself back to allow her to continue.

Her pace quickens and she throws her head back in pleasure. “Oh god, Negan!”

“That’s it.” He grips her hips tightly. “Cum for me, omega.”

Once he feels those first flutters in her walls, he pulls her down to envelop his fully formed knot, falling over the edge with her. After her orgasm, Chuck collapses onto Negan’s chest, still trying to catch her breath. He wraps his arms around her, holding her close.

“I love you, Negan,” she whispers into his neck.

He gently pulls her face up to kiss her deeply. “I love you, my omega.”

A few days later as Negan is lounging on the couch, he gets a text message from Aaron.

I found a 64 Honda Super Hawk. Needs a lot of work, but I’m going to buy it.

Fucken awesome. That’s a sweet bike.

We can help each other out on the builds.

Shit yea we can. Can’t wait to ride. I got Chuck a helmet so she can join us.

Is it a good one?

Of fucken course it is. I did my homework.

You be safe with her on your bike.

You think I would let her get hurt.

I guess not.

Damn right.

The mention of Chuck makes Negan realize that he hasn’t seen her in a bit. He figures she’s probably working in the office. But then again, she told him she didn’t have anything to do today.

“Chuck?” he calls out as he walks up the stairs. Before he gets to the second floor landing, he sees a quick flash of Chuck hurrying into their bedroom, her hands full with something. “What the fuck are you doing?” Once he turns the corner to enter the room, it all becomes clear.

She straightens up from where she was leaning over, fixing the plethora of blankets she has gathered from every room in the house and piled onto the bed. “I think we need to buy more bedding,” she comments, completely serious.

He laughs. “Is that so?” He walks over closer to her. “We need more than this ?”

Looking down at their completely covered bed, she has a moment of clarity. “Oh god. I think this is every blanket and pillow we own. Why did I do this?” She turns her head to Negan, seeking the answer.

“I think you’re fuckin’ nesting.”

“Nesting?” She looks down to the bed then back up. Chuck knew that most omegas go through a nesting phase when they are pregnant and some will make a nest for each heat as well. It isn’t unheard of for omegas not to nest at all, though.

“I guess now we now your heat’s fuckin’ coming,” he comments.

“I never... nested before, though. I thought I wouldn’t.”

“Maybe it’s cuz this is our space now. Instead of just yours or mine like in our fuckin’ apartments.”

“Hmm.” She fiddles with the blanket that’s balled up on the side of the bed. “Does this look alright?”

He chuckles then hugs her from behind, placing his chin on her shoulder. “It’s perfect.”

“You don’t care at all, do you?” she responds with a smirk.

“Whatever nest you make, I’ll fuckin’ love it.” He turns his head to kiss her on the cheek.

She pauses, thinking it over. “I think we need to go to the store.”

He pats her hip as he moves away, laughing under his breath. “Alright, baby girl.”

“Just one more blanket,” she assures him as they walk down the stairs. “And maybe a pillow,” she tacks on. “Like a body pillow.”

He just shakes his head, already knowing that he’s going to let her buy everything she wants, which ends up being two fleece blankets, one fluffy down comforter, and a body pillow. Sure enough, the day after Chuck gets her nest just perfect, she goes into heat.

Tags: @mypopurribitch @negans-womam @haleyea @ultrahviolent @thedeadwalks @readinginmymeadow @strangeandunusual-83

[boarix]

Wraith in the Ruins: A Fallout 4 Story Part V

The Promise

Trigger warnings: canon language/violence/gun, drug and alcohol use. Mature/suggestive content

Game spoilers!

Please enjoy!

 “Why won’t she listen?!”

Danse was pacing in Curie’s lab. His steps were heavy even without his power armor and he kept jarring the microscope making it almost impossible for Curie to read the slide.

“She listens to you, monsieur Danse, but she is most distraught over almost loosing MacCready and effectively loosing monsieur Hancock. She is so downtrodden; we need to respect her wish to move more slowly, oui?”

“I could crush them! The Dragoons and I and one or two M-42s... It would be over like that.”

Snapping his fingers, Danse roused Panther who had been napping in a window. The great monster of a housecat proceed to walk across Curie’s desk placing itself strategically between her and her work.

Sighing in defeat she gave it a pat, “We do not know how many civilian innocents may be killed by a direct assault.”

Wraith would never again call for the destruction of an entire facility; the loss of life between the Institute and the Prydwen would forever haunt her.

Danse had gone back to pacing-out his frustration and hearing Curie’s uncharacteristically impatient sigh, Panther jumped down from her desk and intercepted the large man, purring loudly and rubbing on his leg. Danse stopped automatically and as is if a switch in his brain had been flipped, he stooped slightly to pet the cat.  

“Ah, you are Pavlov’s dog.” Curie smiled at him, “You have no say; the cat is there so you must stop to pet it.”

Curie giggled at her “joke” and combined with the smile she gave him, Danse had a rush of feelings and thoughts that were rather unsettling.

I wonder if I could… If she would let me…

His thoughts were cut off by the door slamming open and a ridiculously muddy MacCready poking his head in, “Hey is the boss lady back yet?”

Curie jumped when the door opened, “Oh my goodness! Why, you are all together mud! Do not come in here so filthy. Why are you a swamp monster?”

“I’m helping Sturges dredge for the mill. Is Wraith back yet?”

“What, did you lose a bet?” Danse was laughing.

“Why do people keep asking me that?” MacCready was exasperated, “Of COURSE I lost a bet! No one would willingly volunteer to help with this crap! Let me know when she gets home.”

“Is there something you required from Madame?”

MacCready was thankful that they couldn’t see him blush through the mud, “No! I just… want to know that’s all.” He slammed the door as he left.

Curie had returned her focus to the microscope. Danse, feeling that the moment had passed, but that some of the new thoughts and ideas might be worth revisiting later, left her to work; closing the door politely.

 Wraith had taken Shaun back to Diamond City for the fall with the intention to work a local case with Valentine while she was there. There had been some whispered dissention over the synth detective’s new look and Wraith had hoped that her presence combined with Piper’s endorsement would help to ease any growing negativity.

She had been gone for a while and MacCready had been increasingly grouchy at over being left behind. He didn’t remember what had happened after he had been shot, and Wraith had been rather vague about the subsequent fight between her and Hancock. What she had been clear on was that for the time being he was grounded for his own safety and there were a lot of tasks he could help with before his next semester started.  

“I can’t believe she took the dog too. I’m so flippn’ bored!”

As it happened, as soon as MacCready slammed the clinic door, Wraith crossed through Big Bridge Gate. She had made the trip to and from Diamond City travelling incognito as a male caravan guard and so made it all the way to her office undisturbed. Dogmeat’s disguise was simpler: Wraith took his red bandana off.

“May I help you?” Sofie had no idea whom she was addressing and was legitimately startled when Wraith’s voice answered her.

“How’s it been, Sofie dear?” Taking off some of her gear while the ghoulette updated her, Wraith interrupted long enough to suggest they go outside to the picnic tables, “It’s really nice out today and I want to sit in the sun while it’s out.”

MacCready caught wind that Sofie was talking to someone that “might be The Boss” and so immediately went over to impress her with his mud. Swaggering up as if he was in a tux, his tone was overtly flirtatious, “Well if it isn’t the best looking ladies in town! Get a load of you two knockouts! Hey, Sofie who’s in the little tower today, it’s Lloyd right?” At the diminutive ghoul’s nod he winked at them, “Scuse me a minute…”

Laughing a little at his odd behavior and appearance Wraith and Sofie continued with their meeting until they both jumped at a sudden scream, “GGGGAAAAAHHHHH!!! MACCREADY YOU DISGUSTING FUCK!! I CAN’T FUCKING UN-SEE THAT SHIT, MAN! GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!” Then, looking all the world as innocent as a new born, MacCready returned to the picnic tables adjusting his belt.

“What did…?”

Wraith interrupted her quickly, “Nope! No, Sofie. Just… no.” She laughed in spite of herself, “Mac, if you’re through, I got some more ballistic fiber and I’ve been meaning to mod you some new stuff. Go shower and meet me back at the house. Hey, the showers are that way.”

“Why can’t I use your office shower? I’m gonna get a change of clothes…”

“I’m about to get in there myself and you are not walking through the house like that! Go use the public showers and I’ll have someone bring you clean gear.”

“Okay, mom! Jeez!”

 The community showers were one of Wraith’s personal triumphs. Although the pressure wasn’t always the best, at least the users had the option of hot running water. MacCready relaxed into the warm water and had just finished lathering up everything when he heard Curie’s voice.

“Monsieur MacCready I have brought you fresh things. These old are to be burned, oui?”

“No! Don’t!” In a panic, he forgot himself and ran out to the locker room area, slipping on the floor and nearly colliding into her.

“Oh! I was only… joking…” Curie turned an odd shade of pink as she got a full frontal view of everything MacCready had to offer. “Oh! Eeeeeee!” Running away she dropped the pair of pants she had brought, but nothing else.

Wearing nothing but a confused face and a few suds, he picked up the pants, “Hmmm, commando it is.”

 Wraith was surprised to see him half naked a few minutes later, “I sent Curie with a full change of clothes.” As he told her the story she started to laugh.

“I’m glad you think it’s funny, but I’m confused; I thought she’s a doctor. Doesn’t she see naked people all the time?”

“Hmm. Maybe it was just the shock of it? Actually maybe she hasn’t. I’ve never forced anyone to get a physical and Preston was prepped for surgery before we got there. All of the instruction she’s done has been field med based, and they used cadavers so probably never a live man either.”

“Didn’t she help with medical research and stuff? Before she was…”

“Well, keep in mind when Dr. Collins programed her, all of the anatomy and physiology data was just that, data. And if she ‘saw’ a live naked patient it would have been through her ocular sensors. They aren’t quite the same as our eyes and she wouldn’t have had a… an emotional, I guess, reaction. So she has never seen a live naked man before. Then when a handsome naked guy who is dripping wet, bumps into her… yeah, she’d probably flip.”

Now it was MacCready’s turn to blush, “Never seen a naked man before… Where did you get cadavers…oh yeah, never mind.”

Wraith was laughing hard, “Yeah…heh… she’ll forever… hahaha… compare…” She snorted loudly, “… all other guys… to you! BWAAAHAHAHA!”

“Wait… you think I’m handsome?”

Wraith rolled her eyes dramatically at him, “Yeah, Mac. You be sure to apologies to her later though, okay? Wait. You better let me speak to her first because I’m laughing but you might have legitimately traumatized her.”

“Well, it is a lot to take in.” He spread his arms out wide and lifted his chin proudly.

“Yeah, yeah. Keep your arms up, I’m gonna measure you.” As she took the various measurements, Wraith found herself thinking about how handsome she really thought the young man was. Trying not to make herself blush she pushed the thoughts away and rushed, especially his inseam.

Stop it! Don’t think about his junk! You creep. Old bat. No underwear…. Gaaaahhhh!

Trying to cover up her busy mind she read his measurements out loud as she wrote them down, “I’m glad I measured first cause you’re filling out, I’m surprised your coat even fit you anymore.”

“What do you mean? I’m not done growing yet?”

“You’ve been at your full height, I’m sure. I just mean that I’ve been feeding you well and having you do more physical tasks than just runnin’ and gunnin’. You didn’t have as lean a winter as the ones you’ve told me about either, so your body can actually apply calories to muscle mass building as well. Don’t get me wrong, you’ll never be a beast like Danse.” She had thrown in that last bit to deflate his ego as he had started to flex experimentally during her explanation and it was giving her all sorts of fresh material for her dirty brain. She went to sit at her workbench, more to have her back to him, less to actually start her work.

Will you please stop! You are fifteen years his senior and he… and he… looks it.

MacCready’s ego was rather substantial however and so the jibe didn’t seem to faze him. Instead he swaggered over to the table and plopped down on the top, folding his arms he smiled down at her, “You know everything about me, huh? I don’t know anything about you though. I mean, not really.”

She immediately stood up so she could have her back to him again feigning interest in the ballistic fiber, “What do you mean? You know me, Mac!”

“I know what you’re like. I know that you’re a good person. But I don’t even know what your life was like, you know… before. You said you were a lawyer, but I don’t know what that really involves.”

“I assure you, it’s boring stuff.”

“C’mon, Wraith, give me something! Just one little story… Please?”

She sighed, defeated. At first she tried to speak calmly and slowly but her pace soon picked up, “Okay. I was in the Marine Corps for a few years and bounced around a bit; I worked for the Adjutant office and Ground Supply and a few months over-seas with Public Affairs.”

She took in a large, shaking breath, “When I was home on leave for a cousin’s wedding, my parents and I were in a bad car wreck. I was the only survivor and then it was just barley. That was actually the first time I heard of Vault Tec; they had a lot of contracts with the military and they offered to help pay for my surgeries and recovery if they could run some extra tests. I didn’t really have much of a choice; I essentially belonged to the military.”

She had started to pace back and forth as she talked, “I found out later that I wouldn’t be able to have children. The doctors said it was because of the damage I received from the accident, but I have always wondered about that.”

“Wait, they told you that you couldn’t have kids? But… Shaun?”

“I’ll get to that.” She resumed her pacing, “I decided that I wanted to change my career focus. I still wanted to stay in the military but I thought I might actually feel like I was doing something if I got my law degree and became a JAG lawyer.”

“Jag?”

“Yeah, it stands for ‘Judge Advocate General’s Corps’. She stopped pacing and stood silently. She was practically panting by now.

“Wraith? Are you okay? You don’t have to…”

“No, I’m alright. I just haven’t talked this much about before... Not to anyone.” She closed her eyes and controlled her breathing, “That is actually how I met Nate.”

MacCready straightened up a little at the name. She almost never talked about her late husband.

“Nathaniel Emmanuel Keita-Johnson. He was the Army liaison assigned to me for a case I was working. He was also just about the most beautiful human being I had ever seen; tall, dark and handsome. But he was also kind and fully committed to justice. I fell in love with him immediately. I kept it professional though and never let on what I was feeling. So much so that he thought I didn’t like him at all!” She had started breathing hard again.

“Wraith, really! You don’t have to…”

“No! I can do this!” She was back to pacing, even faster this time, “After the case wrapped he approached me and apologized. He said ‘I’m sorry if I wasn’t helpful to you’. I couldn’t believe it! I apologized for him feeling that he needed to apologize to me…”

“That sounds like you.” MacCready was trying to be supportive.

“Yeah. Well, we got to talking and then the rest as they say is history. We got married and I was amazed that he even liked me let alone wanted to be with me, especially since I couldn’t have babies. Well, then Vault Tec showed up again. The rep congratulated us on our marriage and asked if we would like to participate in a surrogate program.” She could see that MacCready was confused, “That’s when they take a fertilized egg sample from the parents and implant it in another person. At first I told them ‘no’. But I reconsidered and Nate said that he really wanted to see… me… as a mother…” Wraith was shaking now and started gasping for air.

MacCready took her in his arms and held her tightly to his chest, “Stop! It’s okay! I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you. Just breathe.”

He had unwittingly echoed Hancock, and Wraith’s mind went into a spin as she simultaneously re-lived the deaths of her husband and her son as well as Hancock’s dismissal. She blacked out as her body re-set itself. MacCready continued to hold her as she briefly went limp and her breathing evened out.

As she came-to she was keenly aware that she was pressed against MacCready’s bare chest. She tried to focus on his heart beat and regain control. Then he began humming I Don’t Want to Set the World on Fire and rocked them gently back and forth. She could hear his heart rate increase as she put her arms around him and reciprocated the embrace.

I just want to feel something else… Maybe I could… With Mac I could…

He pulled back from her and setting his hand on the top of her head he made as if to pet her hair, but ended up running his hand gently down the side of her face to cup her chin, “I’m sorry Wraith.” With his face mere inches from hers it was nothing to dip his head slightly and set his lips against hers.

The kiss was meant to be an offer of gentle support, but as she returned it with urgency he felt a fire ignite inside him. His hand moved to the back of her head to deepen the kiss even as she wove her fingers through his hair pulling him to her. He hefted her up to straddle him and pushing her against a wall, ground his growing erection between her legs.  She moaned against his mouth and he thought he might lose it right then. Reaching down between them she cupped and stroked him through his pants.

He bucked himself into her hand, “God yes… please! Uhhh!”

As Wraith moved her hands to his zipper an image of Hancock flashed into MacCready’s mind and he grabbed her hands to stop her. Shaking and panting he set her down and backed away, “No we can’t. I’m sorry we can’t.”  

Wraith completely misunderstood and was blushing furiously, “I’m sorry, MacCready! I guess I… I don’t…”

“No! God no, it’s not what you think!” Knuckling his fists into his eyes he reeled back, “I promised! I promised him!”

“Mac, I don’t understand… what…”

“Hancock!” Backing away from her toward the door, MacCready’s face had twisted into an intensely anguished mask, “Please don’t think that I don’t want to… God I do… so fucking bad! But I promised Hancock that I’d never steal from him again!”

Wraith became very still, “Robert Joseph, I do NOT belong to Hancock!” She was clenching her fists and wouldn’t look at him, “He doesn’t even… like me anymore!” She felt so childish saying it out loud.

“He loves you!” He raised his voice at her shaking head, “I know he does! And you love him! And… and I don’t know what happened, but I know it’s my fault you guys aren’t together anymore.”

“We were never together!” Wraith was trying hard not to start crying.

“But… you slept together...”

“Slept. He held me while I slept.” As angry as she was she felt a stab of sympathy for him. Even more so when she saw tears standing out on his cheeks. She reached for him, “Mac, it’s okay…”

“No. You never had a chance… to… It’s all my fault!” He fled through the door, and she could hear him run up the stairs to his apartment.

 Wraith stood in silence for several minutes. She briefly thought to go knock on Cait’s door; the other woman would probably help her alleviate her intense sexual frustration. She almost immediately dismissed the idea. Cait wasn’t who she wanted and she didn’t want to use her like that. Instead she took a copious amount of Mentats and proceeded to write up 3 months’ worth of task-lists for Sanctuary. As she came down she felt an intense compulsion to go see Nate’s grave. Hiking up past the vault she remembered too late that she was wearing a t-shirt and jeans and had no armor or weapons at all.

She didn’t see the shadow following her.

Wraith had planted hubflowers around the simple stone that served as her late husband’s grave marker. She sat on the damp earth and took several measured, flower scented, breaths before speaking, “Hey Nate. You remember that talk we had about moving on if one of us dies? Well, I thought I had someone in mind… I wasn’t ready yet but… there was a man… a ghoul actually and also maybe a man. I guess I thought I could have both.” Tears streamed down her face, “But it turns out… no one actually wants me anyway.”

Lost in her pity-party she didn’t see the shadow circle around her.

Finally feeling a presence, Wraith lifted her face from her hands to see a pair of glowing eyes quietly observing her. She wasn’t afraid as she didn’t feel a harmful aura, “Panther?”

Upon hearing its name the cat began chuffing at her. Stepping across the grave with its whiskers fully extended, it licked her nose before crashing its forehead into hers and wiping her tears with its face and neck. It then made room for itself on her lap: sitting on her crossed legs while placing its head and paws on her shoulder.

She returned the cat’s hug, whispering, “Thanks Nate.”

  The next morning Wraith was gone.

She had left notes for Sofie, MacCready and Danse and had spoken with Curie, but everyone got the same information: Wraith would be back TBA. With 3 months of task-lists no one lacked for clear directives, but MacCready told everyone to leave him alone and spent 3 days in the big tower. In the end, Danse was the one to go and bring him down after a lot of yelling and toilet-bucket throwing. It was even later rumored that Danse had called him a, “whiny little shit”.

  Deacon knew that the young man traveling alone was actually Wraith. At first he was irritated with her, but then decided that her disguise was probably good enough to fool anyone but him. Wraith was 5’7” so with the heeled boots she was wearing; she was already the average height of most males in the commonwealth. She had altered her walk as well so her movements and body carriage denoted a general sense of “maleness”. She had even worn a wig. His irritation changed to pride as he jogged up next to her, “Whatcha doin’?”

Wraith didn’t jump or flinch at his approach as she had felt him from a ways off, “Walking.”

“Walking is for saps! Me, I’m swimmin’!” So saying he started wheeling his arms around as they moved along, “C’mon in, the waters fine!”

She couldn’t help but smile but wasn’t exactly in the mood to feel better yet, “Looks more like you’re trying to land a plane on a carrier.”

“Where we going anyway?” He was doing the breaststroke now.

“We?”

“Yeah, it means the speaker,” He pointed at himself, “and one or more other people,” He pointed at her, “considered together.”

“It’s getting dark and I’ve been settlement hopping and I’m worn out and… I’m trying to do the smart thing by stopping at a safe-house.”

“Do you have some of that sweet leather stuff?”

“Always.”

“Then we shall join you for dinner.” He had stopped swimming and instead adopted a courtly walk, “That time ‘we’ was meant to indicate that my royal self has made a decree, thusly.”

Wraith gave in. After an enjoyable banter-filled dinner she felt herself relax. Spreading her bedroll and tossing Deacon a spare blanket, she was amazed that she was as comfortable as she was.

Maybe it’s because I know he doesn’t ‘want’ me. There aren’t any expectations. I’m just safer because he’s here.

They lay in the dark for a few minutes before Deacon finally worked up the nerve, “Wraith, we are friends right?”

She propped herself up on her elbows to try and see him better, “Of course! Why?”

He resisted the urge to get closer to her, “Friends talk about stuff. You want to tell me why you and Hancock aren’t speaking?”

Flopping back down she grunted, “Ask him.”

“Hancock barely tolerates me. We are too much alike. So as much as I like fucking with him… I’d just as soon go poke a yao guai.”    

“Who says I won’t punch ya?”

“Punch yes, eviscerate no.”

“Oh I’m sure he wouldn’t do that.” Tucking an arm behind her head she sighed dramatically, ending it in a growl, “I think he’s mad about MacCready. We almost lost him and it more or less could have been avoided, had I not been so stubborn.”

“That doesn’t track boss; Hancock knows what this life is like. Notice he didn’t try to stop you like I did. Instead he came with, probably thought it would be fun. The guy gets off on danger.”

“I don’t know… he’s got a soft spot for MacCready. He was pretty possessive after he’d been shot.” She started to run her hand back and forth across her buzzed hair, “Actually it wasn’t until Mac kissed me that he started acting weird.”

She could see him smile in the dark, “Oh yeah? Exchanging fluids with ol’ Hatty MacCheekbones are we?”

You have no idea…

“It wasn’t like that; he was delirious and mistook me for his late wife Lucy.”

“What are you going to do tomorrow?”

The abrupt change in subject caught her off guard. ”Uh… I donno. I don’t actually have a plan out here. Like I said I’ve been going through Minutemen settlements incognito, checking on everything unofficially and so far so good. I’m happy with all the leaders I’ve picked and there really isn’t anything other than the big projects…”

“So come back to the Railroad for a bit.”

His interruption surprised her, “Uh… I don’t know, Deacon.”

“Or, or, just hear me out. Help me with my current project.”

It would be nice to have something different to do… A change in focus…

“Okay.”

“Really?!”

His excitement made her smile, “On one condition; you can’t swim on dry land the whole time. Wavin’ your arms around like that… you’ll have vertibirds trying to land on us.”

  There wasn’t supposed to be coursers.

Deacon’s project was meant to be a simple package transport: a pick-up and drop-off of a synth from one secure location to another. It was supposed to be a routine mission and a way for Deacon to spend more time with Wraith.

There wasn’t supposed to be coursers.

Wraith’s high perception picked up on the concealed courser before it fired a shot, “There!” Throwing a knife at the mirage-like ripple in the air, she gauged about where its hand would be and got off a rifle round as it moved to block; its Institute pistol coming into view as it left its hand. The ripple moved away and Wraith chased after, “Pursuing!”

Moving himself between the synth they were transporting and the apparent threat, Deacon was surprised when she grabbed his arm and twisted it painfully behind him. Forcing him down she stood on his right leg to keep him prone. Rolling to his right, he brought his left leg around and kicked hard against her right knee. For a split second her hold weakened, long enough for him to continue his momentum back to a standing position, pulling his silenced pistol from its holster as he did.

Recovering quickly, she grabbed his pistol wielding hand in a vise-like grip. Pain forced his hand open and the gun dropped to the ground. Not losing a beat, Deacon gave her a closed-fist double-tap to her temple. She caught his fist on his third jab and yanked forward to grip his neck with her other hand. Releasing his fist, she gripped his throat with both hands and lifted him off his feet.

“GHAACK! How are you so tall?!”

Activating his shoe knife, he delivered a brutal kick to her armpit. Had she been a normal human this would have more than broken her hold. As she was a courser, she flinched and dropped her arms slightly but not enough to set him on the ground. Clawing at her hands, he could feel himself losing consciousness. Mustering every remaining ounce of strength, he swung his foot up and slammed the knife into the side of her head. He knew she was dead, yet her body didn’t seem to know and was still holding him painfully aloft.

His last thought was, “Oops.”

 Using a combination of her berserker rage and an incredibly sharp combat knife, Wraith sliced through the courser’s arms, dropping Deacon to the ground. Prying the hands away from his purpled neck she tilted his head back to begin CPR. Knowing full well she wasn’t competent enough to perform a tracheotomy, she prayed his windpipe hadn’t been crushed. “Common Deacon! Fight for me buddy!” Still not getting a heartbeat, she slammed her fist onto his chest, “God damn you, YOU ASS! BREATHE!”

“Ouch.” His voice was a horse whisper and was followed by a wracking cough.

Shooting him up with Med-X and a stimpak, Wraith gathered him into her arms and proceeded to cry. He briefly struggled against her touch but she squeezed all the tighter, “Nope! I get to. I get to hold you after that! I’m sorry and you can yell at me when you’re better, but I get to fucking hold you now.”

He reached up to tenderly touch her bruised and battered face.

   “I know it will be difficult for you monsieur Deacon, but you must use your voice as little as possible as you are recovering.”

Curie’s no-nonsense face made Deacon want to laugh, but the thought of how painful it might be kept his chuckle at bay. Nodding instead he hopped down off of her examination table and joined Wraith in the waiting room.

“Doc sez I shouldn’t talk.”

Wraith laughed at him, “As if that’s possible!” As they headed to the door, Wraith stopped short causing Deacon to almost bowl her over, “Shit! Mac is out there.” Deacon raised an eyebrow at her. “I scared him and now he won’t let me out of his sight. He’s kinda smothering me.” Deacon raised both eyebrows at her. “Okay, okay I get it. Shush yer eyebrows, jeez!”

  Hancock sensed someone standing behind him, “Fahr, can you tell me why in the goddamn I wrote three copies of the same fucking page?!”

“You were probably high. Or drunk. Both?”

He was in no mood for Deacon and didn’t bother to turn around, “I don’t have time or the patience to deal with your shit right now.” He shuffled some papers around to emphasize how busy he was, “The Railroad needs something, they can leave a memo.”

“Actually it’s Wraith that needs something.” Deacon involuntarily flinched as Hancock slammed his palms down on the table. “She’s not well, Hancock. She doesn’t sleep or eat hardly at all.”

Hancock’s voice was low and dangerous, “What, am I her pa now? She has plenty of folks to take care of her.”

“You mean MacCready, right? You know they aren’t together, right? He completely rejected her and she was heartbroken!”

“It’s none of my concern.” Hancock’s shoulder set and voice told on his lie, “I have problems of my own here without having to worry after the good General Wraith.”

“Wraith isn’t her real name.”

Pushing himself up violently, Hancock closed the distance to Deacon with remarkable speed. Grabbing the other man by the shoulders he slammed him roughly into the wall, “I DON’T FUCKING CARE!”

Throwing caution to the wind Deacon got in his face, literally pressing his forehead to Hancock’s and dislodging his tricorn, “I think you fucking care quite a bit! You can’t lie to a liar, Hancock. I know you are in love with that woman.” As Hancock released him and backed away, Deacon feeling he’d gained the upper hand, followed after him, “You thought you were in their way right? You thought ‘If I’m not around then they’ll fall into each other’s arms’. Right?! Well the jokes on you because they are both too hung up on you, of all people, to even be with each other!”

“Well in the absence of us both, I’m surprised you didn’t swoop in and snatch her up! Follown’ her around all the goddamn time… sneaking around actually; It’s obvious you’re in love with her too!”

Deacon's shoulders sagged. Removing his sunglasses he cleaned them with his shirt, “Of course I’m in love with her. We all are.” Looking back at Hancock he smiled a sad little smile, “I can’t be that for her though. I had my chance at happiness and I destroyed it. I will never have that again; I don’t deserve it.”

Hancock’s body posture changed, “That ugly face yer makin’… like lookin’ in a mirror.”

“Well, people are always saying how much we look alike.”

“Heh!” Hancock swept his hat from the floor and returned it to his brow, “Well, I’m not sure what to do. She’d be pretty pissed at me still… Oh, and don’t think for two seconds that whole ‘Wraith isn’t her real name’ shit was a huge bomb! I know better than that. Who names their kid Wraith? I figured it had to be a nickname.”

“It’s from when she was a Marine; the ladies in her unit all choose spirit names like ‘Banshee’ and ‘Geist’ and called themselves the Spirit Squadron.” Deacon chuckled, “It’s interesting that she’d prefer Wraith to…”

“No! Don’t tell me!” Hancock quickly interrupted, “I don’t deserve to know unless I ask her myself. Although I doubt she would want to speak to me anytime soon.”

“Drop her a memo.”

       Thank you so much for reading! Like what you read? Looking for more? Please see my Wraith in the Ruins master-link under my tags. =^..^=

[parkerrogersgirl]

Tempting Fate- Chapter 3

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Word Count: 1,769 (hehe 69- sorry I’m 12)

Warnings: swearing, SO MUCH FLUFF Imma need you to call your dentist now okay thanks 

A/N: Hey, y’all! @sonofadeanwinchester and I decided it’d be cool if we wrote a series together. SO, HERE’S CHAPTER 3! Please, please, please give us feedback. Feedback is the glue that keeps the writers together. We need the feedback. Send either of us an ask, and we’ll just send each other screenshots. Or you can send it to both of us. Thanks, lovelies.

Summary: I haven’t seen him since I was 18. Haven’t spoken in years. He changed when he got his ticket to fame. But what happens after you choose to give up and let fate take the wheel?

Masterlist

The longer you talked to Sebastian, the more you noticed that you were gravitating toward each other. Five years is a long time to go without speaking to someone, especially someone that you’d spoken to every day for ten years. About halfway through the flight, you were whispering to each other, and your faces were inches apart. It was taking all of your strength to not kiss him, and it was killing you.

“So…” you start as you sit back in your seat, “where are you staying?”

He chuckles, “I haven’t figured that part out yet. I’ll just find a hotel when I land.”

You shake your head, “You know… Mom would murder me if I didn’t at least invite you to stay at the house…”

“Are you serious?” He grins at you.

“Of course. It doesn’t make sense for you to be staying in the same city in a freaking hotel. Besides, vacationing alone is stupid. Why not spend time with people that are practically family?”

He hugs you tightly, and you cherish the moment, remembering that being in his arms is when you truly feel safe. “Thanks, (Y/N). That means a lot to me. I can’t wait to see your family. It’s been way too long.”

You laugh, pulling out of the hug, “I’m not going to give them a heads up. I can’t wait to see the look on Mom’s face. She will probably quite literally have a cow.”

He shakes his head, laughing, “I love your parents. Although Gabe is pretty much my go-to guy. I miss the fuck outta that guy.”

“Oh my god, do you remember when we fell asleep watching Star Wars and he was harassing us about it the next day?”

Sebastian gasps, “I haven’t thought about that in YEARS…”

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

The best part about senior year of high school was when you only had classes in the morning. Your parents had left for the day and planned on coming back around supper time so you invited Sebastian over to binge watch the Star Wars prequels and trilogy. I threw my bookbag down on the counter and Sebastian followed suite, dropping his a little neater into the corner. But that was all he did that was neat. He rummaged through your fridge and cupboards, searching for his favorite snacks that your parents bought specifically for him.

Your mother knew that Sebastian's favorite fruit was blueberries, so she purposely bought him his own container with a big S on the top and smiley face. "Your mom is the best."

You chuckle and nod. "I don't remember the last time your mom bought me blueberries."

"Bull shit!" He spoke over a mouthful of berries. "My mom is always buying you shit like that. Remember that time that she went to the grocery store and came back with a chocolate bar for literally everyone except me? I'm always positive the only reason she accepts me as a son is because you're my best friend."

You roll your eyes and punch him playfully. "She'd accept you as her son anyway because you are her fucking son. She ain't got no choice in it."

He smirks, shoving more berries into his already full mouth. "Let's go watch some STAR WARS!" He yelled and poked my side as he jogged by me, flopping his tall body on the couch.

"Let's watch your father."

His brows furrowed. "What?"

"Mark Hamill could literally be your father."

"No fucking way. We don't even look alike."

"You're kidding right?" He shakes his head. "Well, just take my word for it okay? Once you become big and famous with that acting career of yours, people are gonna be saying you look just like for years to come."

"That's if the acting thing actually takes off." He sighs deep. "I didn't get a letter from NYU."

I chew my lip and pat his shoulder. "There are other schools."

He shrugged. "I guess so. Maybe I'll apply to Berkeley."

"There you go! Silver lining. Now shut up that pretty little mouth of yours so we can watch the greatest movies ever created."

"Yeah, okay, loser.” He pulled you back against the couch so you were flush against his chest. Days like this were the best because it was just the two of you and neither had to pretend. Leaning against Sebastian, listening to him breath and chuckle or gasp at certain points of the film were the small little things that made your days even brighter.

--

You awoke to your parents being in the kitchen, chuckling and shifting around, singing to a slow tune playing in the background. "We can't tell her." Your stepfather, Gabe, spoke quietly.

Your mother giggled. "She'll find out eventually. Like maybe on their wedding day."

Gabe snorted. "You are evil."

You shifted your position and realized that Sebastian and yourself had fallen asleep during the second film. He was flush against the couch, his shoulder leaning on the armrest, one arm behind his head, the other wrapped around your waist. You had fallen asleep with your head in his lap, a blanket thrown over your body that you didn't remember doing before. You sigh deep and shift around so that you could stand without waking Sebastian. The floorboards creaked underneath your weight and Gabe shushed your mother. "Good morning, sleepy head." Your mother peeked her head out around the corner with a shit eating grin on her face. "How was school?"

You shrug. "Fine." She smiled, glancing between Sebastian and yourself. "What?"

She shrugged, playing it off innocently. "Nothing, sweetie."

You hear Sebastian yawning behind you and he sighed deeply, moaning as he stretched. "Hey, we fell asleep."

You snort. "Apparently."

Your mother smiled at him and spoke around a smirk. "Seb, Gabe already texted your mom and told her you're staying for supper."

Sebastian's stand and smiles in response, yelling out so Gabe could hear him. "Thanks, Gabe."

Gabe chuckled. "You're welcome. Listen, you left clothes hear from last time, why don't you just stay the night?"

Your mother's eyes beamed with mischief. "Come on, sleepy heads. Supper is ready."

--

The whole time we were eating supper, your parents were looking at each other and grinning like horny teenagers. "For fuck sakes, please stop whatever the hell you are planning."

Gabe's lips curled into a sly smile. "Sebastian, do you have a date to the senior prom?"

You made a face and shook your head. "What the hell, Gabe?"

He shrugs innocently. "You know, (Y/N), is still looking for a date."

"I'm not looking for a date. I'm not going."

Sebastian turned quickly in his seat. "You're not going? You didn't tell me that."

"Didn't think it was important."

My mother spoke up. "You know, just seeing you two asl-"

Gabe shook his head. "You two have just grown up so fast."

I made a face. "Okay, thanks for supper. Seb and I are gonna go finish the movies."

When we walked into the living room, Sebastian chuckled. I sat down beside him and made a face. "What's so funny?"

"Your parents are fucking crazy, man. But I love them."

-----------

You smile softly, “I think that’s what really sealed the deal on him liking you. Hell, the first time I met him, you were there, and he was just like “who the hell is this kid?” He knew you meant a lot to me, but I think that catching us sleeping together fully clothed is what made him really realize just how much you mean to me.”

He raises an eyebrow, hesitating. “You just spoke in present tense.” “... Uhhhhhh what?” You freeze, knowing that there was no way Sebastian would ever let this go.

“Just now. You said he realized how much I mean to you, not how much I meant to you. So, tell me. Exactly how much do I mean to you?” “Sebastian………”

“Oh, no. You called me Sebastian. That’s not a good sign.”

“Look, Sebby-”

“Better.”

“Goddamnit, LET ME TALK. I said it in present tense because you never stopped meaning everything to me. We may have stopped talking, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t still part of my life. Every time I had to make a big decision, I would think, ‘what would Seb do?’ and then weighed that in to my decision. You do still mean the world to me. We just drifted apart for a bit.”

“Don’t put it that way, (Y/N). We didn’t ‘drift apart.’ You stopped calling. You decided we were on different paths, and you pulled the plug.”

“I did not pull the plug, Sebastian. The second you got famous, you were suddenly too good for everyone else. I was eighteen and I was losing my best friend. On my birthday, you sent a card. “Happy birthday” was in typed letters, and it was obviously one of the ones you buy and send online. And I know it wasn’t from you because for fifteen years, on every birthday card, we wrote by hand, “you should start lying about your age now.” And on my nineteenth birthday, all I got was a card that in a typed font, said, “Happy birthday. From, Sebastian Stan.” In all the time I’ve known you, you have never signed anything “Sebastian Stan.” It’s always Seb or Sebby. You didn’t even text me on my birthday. Being busy is understandable. But no one is ever too busy to send a text. And then I didn’t hear from you for over 6 months, and all I got was a text saying, “‘Sup?” Of course I didn’t respond. Fifteen years of friendship and it ends with three letters. What would you have done?”

“I’m… I’m so sorry. I didn’t know how much it affected you. I know I was a shitty person, but I was a teenager who’d just gotten his dream. I was a kid. And it’s been a miserable five years, so I’m not going to let you go again. I’ll be better. I promise. I’m a bigger person now.”

You sigh, “No, I’m sorry. That was the alcohol talking, and I’ll probably regret saying all that in a few hours. I already regret it now.”

He laughs, lifting up the armrest and pulling you so you’re almost sitting on his lap. He kisses the top of your head, running his fingers through your hair.

“I’ve never been so thankful to be on a plane.”

You smile softly as you fall asleep, “And here I thought you didn’t believe in fate.”

“It’s hard to not believe in something when you’re given a second chance.”

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[ondownthemountain]

Been a year

Kinda wanna write about this in a non-urgent way.

I’ve been home for the summer, and it’s been nice. I get to do so much stand-up and practice so much martial arts with my oldest friends. I eat burritos and hug my grandparents and went rafting and watched a meteor shower with my brothers.

And when I feel motivated I go for a run. I did it a few times this summer. I feel like if I don’t watch it I’ll “get fat.” Not that there’s anything wrong with that. But I wanna stay lean.

Anyway.

Being home is hard. Not just because there’s no privacy, because I worry I’m the only one who cares about maintaining my oldest friendships, because my mom is raging and rude and my dad is a jello cup of shame. All that is tough, but it’s always tough. 

What’s really hard, what hits me like a dump truck, what makes my ears hot and my lungs as tight and empty as a crushed up bottle of water, are the memories.

Memories of my ex. First love.

I don’t want to be with her, first off. Let’s get that out of the way. Being with her would mean letting go of a lot of stuff we’ve both worked really hard to build.

Doesn’t mean I don’t remember her, though. And last year, when I was living here, we... crossed paths... just for a few months. And it was surreal, it was a tornado, and it didn’t end on good terms. 

And for months, even as I was faraway in Boston, the guilt would come up and squeeze me, and I wouldn’t be able to smell, or see, or breathe, and I’d black out, or fall asleep, or need to squinch shut my eyes and count and think and do something. Like picture my little brother, when he was a fat baby, gurgling in the bath. Something like that. Pure, you know? To bring me back.

Anyway. Being here is tough because the last time I was here... she was my world. I haven’t lived here and not had her be, you know, it. My lens, my friend, my hope. Literally, not since like, 2009. 

It’s exhausting. I love my hometown so much and I wanna be able to walk around and see it unvarnished by my love for her. But instead of My High School, it’s The Old C Building Stairwell Where We Cuddled and I Skipped Track. Instead of Nations, chill late nite burger joint, it’s Diner Where Her Dad Took Me to Eat Pie and Talk Politics While She Sulked, Where She Hugged Me Just Last Year.

My mom always lashes out at me, tongue dripping venom, when I come home. 

“Why do you want to come home? To see your brothers? Your friends? I’m reeeaally worried that they’re holding you back.”

And I tell her that is my reason-- which is true-- and that they could never hold me back-- which is true-- but that’s not the full truth. Because half the reason I’m so insistent on coming back is to normalize the place I’m from, the place I love. So I live here, and it’s my life, free and independent and replete with memories that do not. revolve. around. her.

So anyway. I’ve been running.

I ran from my house up to Panoramic couple weeks ago. Pretty far, and I fuckin did it. And it was easy til I started to crest the hill.

Because I rounded the first bend and could hear her teasing me as we drove down it in 2012. I could smell the weed on her breath as she, chill as fuck, drove us down around that tight curve in 2011.

And I muscle past that bend, and the next, and then on the long brown grey stretch before the next big hill I remember driving, just last year, my right hand clenching hers, as neither of us looked at each other and she talked slow and even and told me about the bad things that happened to her in college, when she was away, when we weren’t talking.

And it hits, not just the memory but the shame. I should’ve pulled over and hugged her. I should’ve listened harder. I should’ve left, then and there, knowing I’d just hurt her again. Should’ve done anything but keep driving, holding her hand.

The red-hand of that shame, raspy and rough, claws at my larynx. Doesn’t make cresting this hill any easier. But I push on, on and up, thinking if maybe I can see the violets and agave plants of the hillcrest, the ones I took a picture of my girlfriend in front of just last month, I’ll be here, in the new memories--

But no dice. Instead it’s me and her, sitting just on the other side of the railing, in the dead straw grass, smoking. Me angry, her sad. 2 days before we go back to college. And break up for the final time. 

And she turns her head sideways, and looks at me with her little slit eyes, and exhales out the thinnest stream of smoke. I’m cold, I have my plaid-shirt’s sleeves rolled down and buttoned, but again, she’s chill as fuck, and she looks and gulps and pauses and says--

“You look really cute with your sleeves rolled down. I can’t believe I never knew that. You always rolled em up. But you look so cute with your sleeves rolled down.”

Back here in 2017 I’m hacking and coughing. That weedsmoke. Shit. 

I run harder now, harder even though I’m tired, down the side of the hillcrest to the big rock. Think about my girlfriend-- my current one-- and my best friends sitting here, planning jokes and feeling free. I have to think about it. Have to, as I cradle my hot head and cough up phlegm. That’ll keep me here.

                                                                   *

That run was rough. Didn’t try to run anything in the hills again til today. 

I knew I needed to work off the soreness from rafting and knew I wanted to feel fast, feel free-- also knew that I needed a hill to really get that feeling. Like back in high school, when I ran with Eugenio. I saw him last night. He said I was the best friend he ever had. Smartest guy, too.

Yeah, that’s right. Fuck it. I’m gonna run a hill. Like he and I used to, together.

But I know what it means. The only hill to run, the only route I know that’ll let me make it to work in time to finish this memo, is Indian Rock.

Indian Rock. Where we first kissed.

Yes, I’d kissed another girl up there before her, and yes I kissed like 3 girls there after and yes it’s just a rock, but... it still feels like hers. Sometimes. She used to live right next to it, you know. Sometimes in high school I’d run that route and just bump into her. Sometimes I ran it on purpose. Knowing, just knowing, she’d be out walking and I’d see her.

I know I won’t now, though. She moved, and probably avoids that place anyway. Her friends aren’t really the pipe-n-burrito type anymore and she probably just has bad memories of me there anyway. Still, though. I’m kinda scared I’ll see her.

Fuck it, though. I’m gonna run it.

And I lace up my shoes and go--

and it’s instant. Boom, my old house, where we had our first time. Boom, the school, where she refused to show me her stories and I showed her mine. Boom, the park she met me in one night, warm, in january, and I, unbothered for once, dozed off up on a tree branch like an ocelot, waiting for her.

Boom, the corner she left me on with our first public kiss-- good luck-- before I ran off to rehearsal for some silent play where I played a rabbit. Boom, the street we walked-- walked up to her house. And the one time where we walked on different streets, parallel, and I beat her to her house and she called me, angry, cuz she was still a few blocks back, waiting where I forgot I’d said I’d meet her.

You see what I mean? It’s exhausting. Relentless. Every crunch of grass, every smooth slap of my feet against the deep black pavement reminds me, in a rhythm-- you fucked up. you fucked up. you fucked up. you hurt her, hurt her, hurt her. Weak, weak, weak.

And I try to steady myself. Focus on my form. Remember the track team trading jabs, the seniors teasing me, as I struggled to keep up on this route, to even make it halfway to the rock. Remember my coach telling me the middle of the street was actually a softer impact than the sidewalk. Remember picking my little brother, the gurgly one, from school-- his elementary is on this street.

But like one of those insistent radio stations that follows you, even after you cross county lines, she came back. Cuz I remember how fast I’d tear up this trail to get to her house, and how fast I’d tear down from her place once I realized I was late for my brother, for practice, for something. 

Remember being so cut, nine pack abs and bleeding all the time from my own brittle skin, my pimples on my chest, her nails on my back, remember never feeling tired and always feeling ready and showing up at her place sweaty and licking each other clean and man I had never felt so alive! And when you’re a law student, and you’re always sleepy, and you’re outta shape, man oh man is it tough to feel that alive.

But I keep running, dude, cuz I’m gonna feel alive. Alive alive, on my terms, alive. Believe it.

A right, a left, and there it is; the tunnel, and the giant stone stairs.

I hit the stairs like a bullet, like some kinda bug. Scuttle up em, fast. And now I’m smiling cuz I remember taking Robert and Mateo up here and showing them just how fast I was, after one semester on the team. Remember them getting tired and stopping on these steps. Remember how they convinced me to pee off em. We tagged every bus that came out the tunnel.

And then, the traffic circle. If I make the first right, I’ll end up at her old house.

It’s my first time up here in a long, long time.

And being up here I kinda start thinking. Bout how we said we’d always love each other. How we’d carry each other inside.

This is the intersection where Eugenio had to carry me home, crying, when she wouldn’t say bye to me before leaving to college. The intersection where, a year later, her dad paid me n my boys to help them move, and his old red truck stalled in the intersection, and he said “Oops!” in a way that made everyone crack up and just, like magic, started that shit up again.

I’m remembering all these memories and I’m like, dude. I don’t hate her.

I always knew but never said. This time I said it, tasting the dried salt on my lips from running, from sweating. 

Hm.

Why do all these memories sting me? Slice into me, slice in a way that makes me wish some assassin, some riptide blade, would actually come slice me in those some places, those same ways, to deaden the pain?

Cuz I hurt her. Cuz I know she hates me. Cuz I know she wants nothing to do with me ever again. 

Right? I insisted she love me and when she finally tried to I discarded her love. Over. and over. again. 

That’s it. That’s only why it hurts. Not because she hurt me. Cuz she did. She did. She lied and kept secrets and kept me a secret and, and... it never changed a thing. At least about what I felt for her.

And I jog along, and cut in front of some green van, and it’s like, hm. She stabbed me a hundred times and all I can think about is the hundred times I stabbed her. Hm.

I run and run and run, up the hill to Indian Rock.

I love this run, dude. Even before I knew she lived up here, I loved it. The slope, it’s so strong. Gradual, graceful, challenging but good. I loved it. Come to think of it, I think that’s what made it so special, when I finally learned where she lived. Cuz I already loved the run.

Something about the air, the smell of eucalyptus, the dark grey clouds and the mist just fill me up and I realize.

She doesn’t hate me.

She might’ve lied about a couple things but she never lied about how she felt about me. She refused to tell me she loved me til she meant it. And then she did mean it. And when she said always she meant it. And when she said no more, it’s too much, she meant it. And I did too. I did too.

I get to the rock. It’s beautiful. Towering and jagged and grey, and I climb it. Pick my way up dainty, taking the narrow ways, the ways only kids can fit. 

And I hop and jump and get to the top. And there’s a ton of fog but way far away, by just its belly, I see the Golden Gate Bridge.

Yeah. Yeah, we had some firsts up here. 

So did a lot of kids.

Looking down the slope of the rock I see some cans. An empty case of Bud. I shuffle down the rock, grab the cardboard case, and make my way about the rock, picking up all the loose cans. It’s only about four.

Then I climb down the rock, the way I came. Check the secret cave underneath, pick up one more can and a swisher wrapper. 

I go to the garbage can and dump it. There’s in’n’out in the garbage can. Makes me smile. The closest in’n’out is miles away. That means some kids really knew that they wanted for a perfect night. Those burgers, those shakes, and this view. Must’ve been nice. 

For real. It makes me grin. Teeth and everything.

I turn and run downhill.

After a while, running became about her. It started off as a way to show how good I was. How fast and in control. And then, for a sweet spot in the middle, it was brotherhood, and connection to my town, and nature. And then after her, through her, it became about being primal. About pushing my limits and craving red meat.

I used to love to run to her place. I loved running everywhere. Running like that meant I was burning fat away, clean, and shredding up my abs and my whole body so that I was ready to be held, to be washed.

Running, running to her, meant being and becoming strong for her, meant never tiring, never getting sore.

And my feet swirl over and over like a bicycle, like my friend’s hands when he practices wing chun, like two trout. I roll down the hill.

And it makes me smile because running still means the same thing. Running here, running through the same old memories... it’s still being strong. It’s still loving her, by being strong.

But this time, I’m not running to her, like she wanted. I’m running forward, like she wants. Like I want. Like everyone who loves me wants. I run up here, and I run back, and it means being strong, strong as I always was, and it mean running forward, finding something new.

I run up and I feel her and I run back and I feel her  like sweat flying off my brow behind me as I run and I feel nothing, hold nothing, carry nothing. I’m running forward and I’m being and learning and staying strong. For me. For everyone.