#this and youre just another one of his toys / go back to whatever doll factory they make olivers in

[cattons]

[fuckyeahjerlita]

Code Lyoko Fanfic - Memories Buried in the Snow - Chapter 2 - Memories of Long Ago

The memories the old house contains call out to Aelita. An old box hidden in a closet may contain the final answers she’s been seeking.

He followed the GPS for the rest of the drive, turning where he must… until at last, it sprung into sight: a large wooden chalet, flanked by pines and banked in snow. The house was two stories tall with stairs and a long balcony on the second story.

At the sight of the house, Aelita stirred for the first time since they had switched places. She leaned forward and stared at that building, as one in a thrall.

“Here we are. Kind of a pretty place, isn’t it?” smiled Jeremie, by way of lightening the strange atmosphere.

Without acknowledging her husband, Aelita unbuckled, opened the door and exited the car. She stood in the falling snow, looking all around her, taking everything in. Then, she began walking slowly forward.

“Aelita!” Jeremie called, deeply troubled by his wife’s strange behavior.

He quickly killed the engine and got out to follow her. He watched as Aelita walked up to the chalet’s front door, fished out the key they had been sent, and opened it. Jeremie ran to catch up with her, cursing the deep snow with each step. Finally, he made it through the front door,, shutting and locking it behind him, cutting out the cold of the outdoors.

The inside was a cheerful atmosphere, well furnished with all the creature comforts, yet unmistakably rustic.

Jeremie tried the light switch and thankfully, the overhead light came on.

"I'll make a fire!" he announced by way of dissipating the lingering weirdness in the atmosphere.

Aelita continued to be remote as she walked slowly away without acknowledging Jeremie, as though she were being lured in by the house itself.

‘Like at the Hermitage,’ Jeremie thought vaguely.

He watched after Aelita, but decided to leave her be, for now. She would come to him when she was ready, as she always did. For now, Jeremie concentrated on putting the logs into the fire, then lighting the match. Soon, he had a fire going to chase away the lingering cold.

Aelita walked slowly through the house. With each look at a room, flashes came to her in more rapid succession and with trebled clarity. Though the furnishings were different, the rooms themselves had changed but little. She mounted the stairs slowly, but with purpose. At the end of the hall on the right, was a door, which opened to reveal a small bedroom.

Aelita blinked and suddenly, it was transformed into a child’s room with light pink walls and curtains covering the windows, filled with a little girl's toys: stuffed animals, a few dolls, books, and a small bed with a pink blanket and pillow. Aelita blinked her eyes and the room was back to its present state. Closing the door, she left the room to itself.

Across the hall, another door opened to reveal the larger master bedroom. Aelita blinked and saw the bed and furnishings that had been forgotten to her for almost 20 years. Lying in the bed were a man with a gray mustache and a woman with pink hair and green irises like her own. The woman looked over at her and smiled.

Aelita blinked and the room was empty again. Tears blurred her vision and her throat tightened up, her breath hitching out in a strangled sob. Guided by some unexplained compulsion, she stepped into the room and made a beeline for the closet, whose door she wrenched open with nearly enough force to pull it from its hinges. Through the veil of tears, she looked… until she saw it, a small cut-out in the farthest back corner of the closet.

Kneeling, Aelita pulled at the bit of wall that stood between her and what she was after. It gave way easily enough, revealing a small box ensconced in the wall for over 20 years. She pulled the box out and removed the lid.

Inside were many old papers, cards, and most importantly… photos of either the bespectacled man or the pink haired woman, each taken by the other. The final one she saw was the man and woman posing with each other for a timed shot before the cabin, the woman’s hands caressing her swollen belly, a small contented smile upon her face.

Aelita let the photos slip unheeded to the floor as a fresh wave of emotion broke over her. She lowered her head and sobbed brokenly into her hands, her entire frame shaking with each hitching, broken breath she took.

Through her haze of agony, she didn’t hear the footsteps behind her. Didn’t realize she was no longer alone until she felt those gentle, familiar arms encircle her from behind. She turned, wrapped her arms around Jeremie’s waist and began sobbing with abandon into his sweatshirt while he held her close.

Poor Jeremie was utterly taken aback by Aelita’s present state. He had seen her in the throes of her melancholies and had held her when she cried many times throughout their relationship, but not since finding out of her mother’s death years ago had she broken down this completely.

Closing his eyes on his own tears, Jeremie rested his chin on the crown of Aelita’s head as he began gently rubbing her back and stroking her thick, soft hair with both hands, familiar gestures that he knew would soothe her… eventually. This was going to take a while.

Jeremie remained silent as he held Aelita close and continued his gentle ministrations on her. His heart mulled a thousand questions, but now was neither the time nor the place for them. The only thing that mattered was comforting Aelita through whatever was distressing her.

Finally, after an indeterminate length of time, Jeremie felt the tension begin to drain out of Aelita’s body. Her sobs grew fewer and farther between and her grip around his waist slackened. Finally, he felt her go completely limp in his arms, breath soft and even in sleep, utterly spent.

Only now did Jeremie dare try to take stock of things. She had been acting strangely distant practically since their arrival in Switzerland. With each passing mile toward this chalet, the strangeness of her behavior had grown, until reaching the crescendo they had just endured. When he looked down at the floor, Jeremie saw the pictures lying in careless disarray around the small box.

Moving slowly and carefully, he picked them up and looked through them. He immediately recognized the mustachioed and bespectacled visage of Franz Hopper staring at him from out of the pictures. And the pink haired woman with the familiar emerald irises was unmistakable!

‘Franz and Anthea Hopper!’ he thought. ‘Oh, my god! I don’t believe in fate or anything like that, but somehow… Poor Aelita…’

Moving slowly and carefully, Jeremie shifted their positions so that he was able to pick Aelita up in his arms bridal style, then rose to his feet. Fortunately, Aelita was tiny and very light, so he was able to do so without throwing out his back. Jeremie carried Aelita over to the large bed and gently deposited her upon the mattress.

Jeremie began the careful process of undressing Aelita so she could sleep more comfortably. He moved slowly and carefully as he worked. This proved unnecessary though, as she never stirred, even as Jeremie manipulated her limbs.

‘Wow! She’s totally out,’ he thought worriedly. ‘I just hope she’ll be OK. My poor angel…’

Jeremie covered Aelita in the thick blanket to let her sleep and hopefully recover. This done, he returned to the closet and put all the photos and papers back into the small box. He then picked up the box and brought it over to the bedside table. This was Aelita’s and she should be the one to decide what to do with it.

Finally, he stepped out of his boots and stretched out next to his sleeping princess. Jeremie pulled the blanket over both of them, then wrapped Aelita up in a protective embrace. He then shut his eyes and let his mind drift.

Dreams of days gone by arose unbidden before their minds.

Aelita dreamed of running about in the forest behind the house, of her parents’ admonitions never to wander too far away. Red deer peeked out from among the trees at her. Squirrels peered curiously from their holes.

Snow came and with it, scratching out snow angels in its depths, rolling balls to make snowmen, drinking hot cocoa inside in the evenings. There was a large pine tree decorated with various bulbs and lights with festively wrapped packages at its base.

“Oh, he’s so cute! I love him. What should I call him?”

“How about Mister Puck, which means ‘elf’.”

“Do you like him?”

“Oh, yes! Thank you, Mommy!”

Meanwhile, Jeremie dreamed of switching on a computer in an ancient factory and being gobsmacked by the sight of a delicate looking young woman with bewitching pink hair staring back at him from out of the screen. From almost that moment, he knew he must do everything he could to have her by his side and in his arms.

The scanner opened and there she lay, innocent and fragile as a newborn lamb. Her eyes opened, revealing bright, intelligent, yet entirely guileless green irises as she smiled up at him, face to face for the first time in this world.

She lay on the cold steel floor of the computer room with the silent machine looming over her. He had to be quick! The machine roared back to life and he pulled her into his arms, praying to the universe that he wasn’t too late.

“Aelita! Answer me! C’mon! Wake up!”

When her pain fogged eyes opened and she took a hitching breath, he held her close and choked back a sob.

“You’re insane! Why did you do that?!”

“To save the world… To save you all…” she managed to gasp out.

“We’ll save it together. Then you’ll have your whole life in front of you; a brand new life!”

“Noooo!” Jeremie cried, watching helplessly as the Scyphozoa drained the last of Aelita’s life from her, before dropping her carelessly to the ground. “Aelita’s deeeeaaaad!!!!”

The four could only watch as Lyoko died along with its keeper, facilitating XANA’s escape to the greater Internet. Just when all seemed lost, a glowing entity appeared, lifted Aelita into the air and restored to her what had been lost. Jeremie’s joy knew no bounds as Aelita began to move again.

He was there at the scanner to catch her as she collapsed into his arms, her humanity fully restored to her, entirely free of XANA and Lyoko.

Happy times. An angel soaring aloft on pink wings and shooting energy from her hands.

The sure and steady captain of an underwater vessel named for Freyr’s great longboat.

Sad times. A young musician not understanding why he would rather spend his days at his computer than come to her debut.

The grand battle. The life of Waldo Schaeffer faded away with the flying mantas’ lasers as he gave his last strength over to power the multiagent program his daughter was trying to launch. As Aelita watched helplessly, her father faded from existence, this time forever.

Jeremie sighed as he felt fingers caressing his head, pulling him from his dreams of long ago. His eyes opened to reveal a pair of soft green irises staring at him.

“Lita…” he asked as he watched her, uncertain of what to expect. “Are you OK? If you want, we can get another place…”

He was silenced by Aelita’s index finger, pressing against his lips. Aelita picked up the box from the nightstand and opened it. Jeremie watched her in equal parts fascination and dreadful anticipation of another emotional breakdown. Aelita glanced up at him and patted the spot right next to her. At this invitation, Jeremie snuggled up next to Aelita, wrapping his arms around her and giving her a comforting squeeze.

Grateful for Jeremie’s support, Aelita once again went through the box’s contents: all the old photos, love letters and other assorted papers. Many times, Aelita would feel her emotions beginning to break again and would need to stop and rest in Jeremie’s arms for a bit before she could start again.

As they did this, Jeremie found himself getting to know Waldo and Anthea Schaeffer in a way he would’ve never thought possible. Their photos and letters were truly windows into the world of their departed souls. The best of all were Anthea’s old diaries, full of love for Waldo, and later on for baby “Lita”. Details of her first time crawling, first steps, and first words filled the pages, causing Aelita to tear up and Jeremie to smile at the thought of Aelita as a tiny child.

“Your mom was so pretty,” Jeremie noted. “I totally see where you got your looks from.”

Aelita fixed Jeremie with a sad smile at that compliment.

When everything had been gone through and put away, Aelita lay still in Jeremie’s arms, face damp with tears, but her lips quirked up in a small smile that gave Jeremie hope after a day spent worrying about her emotional state.

“I’ve come home,” she said, the words barely more than a whisper.

“I was never a believer in fate, but of all the chalets in Switzerland…” Jeremie began.

He was silenced by Aelita’s lips suddenly crashing into his. Jeremie’s eyes widened at this unexpected display of affection, but he recovered quickly and eagerly returned it, wrapping his arms around her waist.

The next few hours were spent in the passion of their gentle and drawn-out lovemaking. Feelings were exchanged physically, vows of devotion, protection, and cooperation were renewed on a spiritual level. When they reached their completion, they lay wrapped in each other’s arms, intertwined until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

The two remained thus for the rest of the night, drifting in and out of consciousness, dreaming of their future together under sunny blue skies, with gentle breezes at their backs and soft grass under their feet; the silent contentment of being together, surrounded by the memories of a distant past.

[trashboatprince]

I know I have fifty million fics to work on, but this idea came to mind and I just had to write it up. It’s involved in the little series I have for the whole Alice/Susie thing with Alice saving the studio, this is just after they first met. If you wanna read that, there is a fanfic for it through Susie’s POV I wrote up on ao3.

Ships: Alice/Susie

On with the fic!

--

Alice was quiet as she followed after the taller woman, who carried her along with the old rope that was wrapped around her hands and wrists. She pouted a little, trying to undo them, but as the damsel of the series, rope knots were… knot her specialty, haha. Okay, she couldn’t help herself, she was also a comedian, and a great one at that.

Her large eyes looked around the old, wooden halls they passed through, seeing posters for all sorts of Bendy cartoons, majority of them starred her, or included her as part of the cast. Alice had even spotted cutouts of herself, several she knew were promotional material for some big shorts, others were the generic one of her standing on a cloud.

Oooh! There was even a pile of plush toys of her in a corner as they took a sharp turn.

“Where are we going, miss?” Alice asked, finally breaking the silence since she was dropped (rather rudely, if she might add) to the floor from the trap she had stupidly stepped on. The other turned her head to look at the toon, a golden eye staring down at her, swimming in a sea of black.

“We’re going to a very special room of mine, only angels allowed.” Her voice was lovely, much like Alice’s own, but the little angel knew that it wasn’t her own. Sure, yes, it seemed to be overlapped by another, but Alice wasn’t stupid.

Toons knew the people that worked on them, that were behind their creation, it was practically imprinted in their ink.

‘Do you really think I’ll be the perfect voice for her? I don’t feel like I’m worthy of someone so perfect.’

This pretty angel before her had a much different voice, a sweet one that could make birds sing with her if she sang them a song. Not that the voice she had was anything terrible, in fact, it was just as lovely, but sometimes… you can’t beat an original, right?

One last hall and they came to a door, marked in ink. Alice frowned at all the markings, seals of protection, from demonic creatures. It made her swallow loudly, poor Bendy would be hurt if he ever got close to these…

The other angel opened the door and allowed Alice in with a curt nod, a sly smile on those black-painted lips. Alice thanked her as she stepped inside, surprised to see that it was a rather clean room, much different from the many stained and damaged ones around the studio. It was set up like a little home, with whatever material this lady could find, which was a lot of Alice content.

Alice couldn’t hide the smile on her face when she realized this is where the giant plushes of herself had gone from the toy factory. “So, what did you need me for? I mean, aside from adding me to your lovely collection, hehehe.” She winked at her savior-captor, who seemed to be a bit startled by the reaction.

But that lasted a moment, she was quick to recover as she stepped to the door, looking down at Alice when she closed it. “I think you answered your own question there, my dear.” She smirked, locking the door.

This seemed like a dangerous situation, but the toon didn’t seem threatened as she looked at the other angel.

Now that she wasn’t upside down, Alice could actually look at her. This other Alice was tall, her outfit was similar to Alice’s own, though there was much more black involved. Though, Alice really enjoyed the little addition of the bow on the back of the dress.

Her face showed scars on the left side, her eyes were gold but the left was black as well, and there was a slash at her throat. The other’s horns were longer, sharper, and her halo was damaged. She even seemed to have two extra beauty marks, just under that left eye of hers. Oh, she knew those little marks anywhere.

‘Can you give her a beauty mark? Under her eye? I-It doesn’t have to be like mine…!’

Alice couldn’t help but feel a bit of heat come to her face, wow, so it really was her after all. Her first voice actress, and her influencer, Susie.

Golly, what happened to such a lovely lady to have her change so much. Imitation is the highest form of flattery, but Alice would have liked for Susie to be, well, herself. Not that she minds Susie wanting to be more like her, but…

“What happened to you, Susie?”

Alice immediately regretted the innocent question, the glare she was given looked like it could slice her open. Susie stared at her before stepping closer, her heels loudly clicking in such a quiet room.

“What… did you say, little angel?” There was a strain to her voice and Alice shivered, her halo shaking above her head.

“I-I was… I was just asking what happened to you, Su-” The hitch of the other’s breath, the horrible, burning stare, made Alice speak quickly. “Alice! What happened to you, Alice! I mean, your poor halo, it’s all bent outta shape, let me help you…!” She reached up with her bound hands and Susie stepped back, glowering.

“Look,” the taller angel started, “if you want to keep that pretty head of yours on that lovely neck, you’d be wise to never say that name to me or around me. She’s long gone, there is no Susie here, there is just me, Alice Angel.”

Once Alice nodded her head rapidly in understand, Susie relaxed, her smirk returning. “Good, you’re such a smart girl under that halo.” She gave it a small flick, the sound of a bell rang through the room, like something from a cartoon. “As for your questions… a terrible machine and a man did this to me. I was offered something wonderful, and all I got was this. But that’s easy to fix, I just need the right parts. And I’ll have you help me out, my dear.”

Gently, Susie guided Alice to the couch in the room, sitting her down on it. “Will you help make me a beautiful angel again?”

‘Even though she’s fallen, is she still a perfect angel? She is? That’s wonderful!’

“I… suppose so, but I don’t see why I’m needed.” Alice spoke, blinking. “You’re already beautiful as it is.”

Once again, she caught the taller woman off-guard. Alice smiled at the hint of color to the other’s cheeks before she yelped at the hand that pushed her face back as few inches. “Flattery will get you nowhere here, girly.”

“Oh, but I think it did. I mean, I’m already in your private chambers, doll.” Alice grinned before planting a kiss on the palm of Susie’s hand, which was suddenly pulled back. The other’s eyes were wide as she looked between her hand and Alice, who just smiled sweetly at her.

Susie stepped back, stammering a little to herself, before moving back towards the angel, working on untying the rope around her hands. “J-Just stay there. I need to go check on my other traps, don’t get into anything while I’m away, and don’t leave. You can’t escape me; I have eyes everywhere.”

“And they’re currently on me!” Alice giggled and got a look from Susie, making her close her mouth. She was still smiling though, even when Susie stepped away, leaving the room with an axe. Once she was alone, Alice sighed, leaning back against the couch.

She closed her eyes, breathing in deeply through her nose before pausing, sniffing. The couch smells interesting. She sniffed it again, it was… sweet, but there was something else included in it.

The old blanket and pillow at one end told her that this was Susie’s bed here, so of course it smells like her.

It smells so lovely, like honey! Alice remembered in her creation, when she was being ‘brought to life’ on pen and paper, of Susie’s voice. She was talking to the artist who designed her, Henry, giving him ideas. Sure, a lot of them were silly and didn’t really seem like plot heavy things, just more like ideas for Susie to enjoy herself.

But there was one interesting one she remembered, Alice’s personal scent.

‘I’d like to believe she smells like honey and milk.’ Susie mumbled, looking embarrassed as she sat next to Henry Stein, the artist pausing in his inking of one of his headshots for Alice Angel.

‘Honey and milk?’ He asked, clearly amused and curious. ‘Any reason why?’

‘Well… from what I remember from my old Sunday school days, God was from the land of milk and honey, so Heaven, right? And Alice is from there, so wouldn’t she smell like that? Such a sweet, homey, safe scent…’ Susie smiled softly, looking at the drawings.

‘Makes sense. Heh, yeah, she can have that as her perfume or somethin’.’

Honey, that’s what Alice was smell, but there was another scent that had her worried. Ashes, she smelled the scent of burnt ashes mixed with such a sweet aroma.

Such a scent was associated with death.

She remembered the slash across Susie’s throat… oh dear, what happened to her since she was replaced? Whatever it was, it made her an angel that wore a perfume of sweet death.

END

--

Ten points to whoever gets my really obscure reference about honey and ashes.

And yes, Alice was totally flirting cause she is very aware of Susie’s crush, which isn’t to say that she’s not crushing herself. Also, this whole fanfic is self-indulgent, but then again, I’ve noticed a lot of content for this ship is and that’s beautiful.

As for the beauty mark comment, my headcanon for Susie is that she has two under her left eye. And this is pre-canon Malice design, so her face isn’t quite… Ink Demon-damaged as it is, she’s pretty close to being perfect, but he messes everything up for her later on.

Thanks for reading!

[ghostbustermelanieking]

Could you write something about William spending this first birthday with Mulder and Scully? Post s11 or his actual first birthday

i cheated and incorporated parts of an old s11 spec fic i wrote because i liked the idea of it. 

5/20/19

He doesn’t know why he’s doing this.

He shouldn’t be doing this. He should be visiting his parents, like he planned, the way he did on Christmas. He should sneak out and go have a day to himself; it’s his eighteenth birthday, for fuck’s sake. He shouldn’t be doing this, wallowing in a past he doesn’t remember. He doubts Dana and Mulder even know it’s his birthday. But yet, here he is rummaging through the boxes in Mulder’s office. 

This impulse, whatever it is, is likely spurned on by seventeen years of wondering about his birth parents on his birthday. Who they were, why they’d given him up. Sometimes, he’d seen the woman he hadn’t known was Dana yet; when he was a kid, he’d always loved that. When he’d gotten older, he’d resented the fact that he’d wondered, that he’d always had to wonder. And now? Now he doesn’t really know what to think. He knows the truth, what happened, but that doesn’t get rid of the curiosity about the whole thing. What happened to him before he was Jackson Van de Kamp.

After Lily was born, he’d asked and Dana had told him about what it’d been like before she’d given him up for adoption. He can’t remember half of what she said, the words jumbling up in his head, but he knows it was filled with sentiment, a deep affection he’s only seen in bits and pieces from Dana and Mulder. (Either because they are holding back and giving him the space he asked for, or because he isn’t looking hard enough.) She talked a lot about the danger, reiterating that she did give him up for adoption because she was scared for him, but they were all exhausted then and, as much as Lils has grown since, it feels like forever ago. It feels like he still knows nothing. He wants to know. He knows he never made it to a birthday with Dana or Mulder (including the seventeenth birthday he spent sleeping under a bridge, freezing cold and trying to convince himself to go and ask Dana and Mulder for money, which he did the following week), but he wants the details from the first year of his life. If he can find them.

Jackson pokes at the stack of boxes on the shelves. The most outward one is old baby stuff that Lily has outgrown—why they don’t just sell that shit, Jackson doesn’t know, it’s not like they’re going to have another one—but behind that are old X-Files, a box labeled Stuff from the office—Scully and several labeled Mom. Jackson swallows uncomfortably, lugging a heavy stack off of the shelf.

His elbow bumps a box and sends a box tumbling to the ground. He swears softly, preparing himself for footsteps or the earsplitting cries of the kid. Dana and Mulder had fallen asleep on the couch last night during the movie, Lily curled on Dana’s stomach with Mulder’s hand on her back, and they were still there when Jackson came downstairs. But he hears nothing. Dana and Mulder used to be some of the jumpiest people he’s ever seen, but since the kid was born, they’ve slept like the dead. He breathes out a sigh of relief and stoops over to pick up the box. And that’s when he sees the label: William—2001-2002.

Jackson gulps, his throat suddenly dry. Why the hell did he think this was a good idea? He crouches on the floor besides the box and pries off a layer of packing tape, digging in deeply with his fingernails. He opens the box gingerly, like it’s the box from Se7en or something, like it’s going to explode. There’s a layer of dust over the whole thing like it hasn’t been opened in a long time. Jackson rummages for his phone and turns on the flashlight; it’s dark as shit in the curtained office and he doesn’t want to turn on the light.

Inside is a hodgepodge of baby stuff that’s at least as cheesy as the stuff Mulder picked out for the kid: an ugly hat, an uglier doll that makes Jackson laugh, a stack of onesies that seem to have the expected space theme (although some are the sensible ones he’d expect from Dana and a few are the overly cutesy kind that are neither of their styles). Jackson pokes at some toys: a bear who’s ear is a bit chewed, a robot thing that looks like it’d make noise. And at the bottom of the box, he finds a stack of Polaroids of a baby who has to be him. 

A sudden lump rises in Jackson’s throat. He’s never seen any pictures of himself this young. They’re all labeled in Dana’s precise handwriting, slightly faded: William, 8 months and 7 days; William, 7 months and 18 days; William, 6 months. He thumbs through them with a overly careful hand, like they’re not super old photos and will shatter on impact. This, he thinks, this is when he was a different person. When he was William Scully (or Mulder, or whatever), before he was Jackson Van de Kamp. He wonders how different he’d be if Dana and Mulder had never given him up. If he would be any different. If these pictures would be framed somewhere and not stuffed in a dusty box they can’t stand to look at. 

He lifts up the stack of Polaroids and uncovers two that are paperclipped together, that make an unexpected lump rise in his throat. The one on top is of him and Dana, a surprisingly young version of Dana. She’s sitting on a striped couch in front of a Christmas tree. She’s smiling, and Jackson knows Dana well enough to know that kind of smile is unusual. (He sees it sometimes with Mulder or Lily, or occasionally with him, but never often.) She seems to be a muted sort of happy, like something is missing. (And it didn’t take a detective to figure out who; Dana is wearing a worn Oxford sweatshirt that is clearly too large for her, the same one he’s seen in Mulder’s closet.) But there is an unquestionable amount of love in her eyes as she looks down at the baby (him) in her arms. He’s dressed in the dumbest UFO onesie and chewing on a teething ring. Dana is cupping his head in one hand and has the pointer finger of her other hand captured in his tiny fingers. She actually looks like a mother to him, the way she does with Lily. Jackson swallows painfully. It’s hard to look at; he yanks it off of the stack and finds one that is even harder to see. Dana and Mulder curled up with a baby (with him) on a bed, so similar to how they fell asleep last night. He’s asleep on Mulder’s chest and he looks extraordinarily small, the way Lily looked when she was a newborn. The three of them look like a family. The picture is captioned Dana, Fox, and William, 5/25/01 in an unfamiliar looping handwriting. Five days after his birthday. 

Jackson lets the photos drop back into the box and wipes his eyes. They’re wet, which shakes him. He hadn’t expected this. He puts things back in the box too quickly, before he changes his mind and reaches in to retrieve the two smudgy Polaroids. He wants to keep them. With the pictures of Lily that Mulder has tacked up on the corkboard, he deserves this.

Putting the boxes up on the shelf somehow doesn’t wake the kid up, but hitting a squeaky floorboard on his way down the hall does. She erupts to life from the living room, wailing like a banshee. (Jackson went through a spell of calling Lils Banshee, and Mulder found it hilarious.) Jackson grimaces and shakes his head affectionately. He can hear Mulder and Dana coming to life groggily, murmuring comforting things. He slips the Polaroids into his pocket and goes out into the living room.

Daggoo, curled up in a dog bed in the corner, yips with excitement when he sees him. Lily seems to wail louder, her face red. "Hi, Jackson,” says Dana, rubbing Lily’s back. “Happy birthday.”

Jackson’s neck grows hot with embarrassment. He hadn’t expected them to remember. “Um, thanks,” he says awkwardly. “I... I didn’t think you’d remember.”

“Of course we remember,” Mulder says, stretching a bit as he sits up. “It was an eventful day. You were born, we rode in a helicopter...” 

Jackson makes a surprised choking sound. “A helicopter?” he repeats. 

“Yes,” Dana says in a dry voice. “Your birth was a little more... exciting than I would’ve preferred. A hospital would’ve been nice.” 

“I can confirm that sentiment,” Mulder says, standing from the couch. “Should I grab her formula, Scully?”

“Yes, she sounds hungry.” Scully kisses Lily before passing her over to Mulder; she snuggles into her father (their father, Jackson thinks with a strange, half-guilty pang as he thinks of the Polaroid in his pocket, and then of the father who is buried miles away in Norfolk), her tear-stained face rubbing against his shirt. 

“Hey, banshee,” Jackson says to the kid in an attempt to lighten the muddled confusion in his brain. He reaches out and she grips his finger in her hand, their semi tradition. He thinks she’s going to be a strong one. 

“I picked up a cake for you last night,” says Dana off-handedly. “Oreo cheesecake, right? We could eat some for breakfast.”

Jackson blinks in surprise. “Wow, Dana, that seems a little offbrand for you.”

“It’s your birthday, kid,” Mulder says from the kitchen as he warms Lily’s bottle. “Scully is serious about birthdays.”

“Not a kid anymore,” Dana says with a quiet sort of fondness. Jackson thinks of the Polaroids again with a pang. Dana smiling under the Christmas tree, Dana asleep with him and Mulder on the bed, a peaceful look on her face. 

He considers bringing it up. Changes his mind, tells Lils very seriously, “You lucked out, Lils.” Lily gives him a serious look in return overtop of the bottle she is drinking hungrily from. 

“Is there anything you want to do today?” Mulder offers, swaying with Lily cradled against his chest. “We could hike somewhere, if you want, I know some good trails... or we could go into DC for the day.” 

“I dunno,” Jackson says, sitting in the overstuffed armchair he likes. The last time he actually had a proper birthday celebration was when he turned sixteen. Dinner with his parents, and then sneaking out to the sugar factory with a few friends. He’d gotten drunk off his ass and kissed Bri for the first time. The memories burn now; remembering his old life is too hard sometimes. He can recall almost every birthday he’s had, through real memories or through video tape, but the one he can’t remember, the only one he didn’t spend with his parents. The very first one, spent in a dusty house in Georgia. He’s heard the story before, but he can almost picture it now: Dana frightened and protective, holding him to her, Mulder bursting in like the hero in an old action movie. He almost wishes he could remember. 

Dana takes the cake she’d gotten out of the refrigerator and slices it with a butter knife. Come to think of it, Jackson can’t remember repeatedly mentioning that he liked that kind of cake. He thinks he said it was his favorite once last summer when they met him at the Cheesecake Factory in Richmond, but he had no idea she’d actually remember. He sits at the table as Dana puts a slice on a plate for him. “I know it’s a Monday, but you’re not technically in school yet,” she says. “Maybe you could see if your friends from work want to meet up later or something...” 

“I found something,” Jackson says in a rush, and they both look at him in surprise. Lily’s head lolls on Mulder’s shoulder, but Mulder and Dana are both watching him expectantly. Maybe even nervously. He reaches into his pocket before he can change his mind and lets the photos drop on the table. 

Mulder’s breath catches in his throat as he sees them, leaning closer to get a better look. Dana looks at them with a reverent sort of expression, a little sadly. “I’d forgotten where these were,” she says softly, touching the one with the three of them gingerly. “I wanted to find them last year, but I couldn’t remember...” 

“They were in the box of my stuff,” says Jackson. “In Mulder’s office.” 

Mulder reaches down with one hand and scoops up the one with all three of them. “I didn’t know this existed, Scully,” he says in a quiet tone as well, so quiet that he could be whispering. “How did...”

“Mom took it,” says Dana in an emotion-choked tone. “She gave it to me.” 

“So that was before you left, Mulder,” Jackson offers up gingerly. 

“Yeah,” Mulder says, running his thumb over the glossy front. “This was the night after you came home from the hospital.”

“And this was Christmas in San Diego,” Dana adds, touching the corner of the other photo. “With your Uncle Bill, the one you met over video call on Christmas.”

“Oh, yeah,” he says. He knows who Bill is. 

Dana smiles a little wistfully as she looks down at the picture. Jackson clears his throat and offers, “I look a little like Lils, don’t you think? Like, minus the hair.”

Dana laughs quietly. “A little bit.”

Mulder laughs a little too, runs his thumb over the photo again before handing it back to Jackson. “I never forgot those three days with you and your mother,” he says. “I always regretted leaving you. I never got over the guilt of it.”

Jackson gulps, looks away. Looks down at the photo again, the peaceful looks on Dana and Mulder’s faces. He doesn’t know what to say. “Could I... could I have these?” he asks tentatively. 

“Of course,” Dana says. Mulder’s free hand comes down on his shoulder and squeezes it comfortingly. 

“Thank you.” Jackson tucks the photos in his pocket and looks back up. “Thank you for... the cake, and for... thank you.” He rubs his hand over his mouth, takes a deep breath and adds, “I’m glad... I’m glad I’ve met you. Gotten to know you. I always wondered about my birth parents on today, and now...”

He can’t finish. He doesn’t think he needs to. Mulder squeezes his shoulder. Lily’s tiny foot kicks him in the back of the head, which makes Jackson smirk. Dana smiles at him, covers his hand with hers briefly. 

The photos sit heavy in his pocket, proof of a life other than the one he is used to. Proof that his birth parents loved him, the proof he was always looking for as a child. That feels like enough. 

[lore-a-lie]

Chapter 2, Act 3: A Sonata by Moonlight

Daily Life

Kaede made her way through the gates of greed and lust, only to find Ryoma waiting at the top of the spiral staircase on the other side, candy cig in hand looking out at the two buildings before them as he looked over his shoulder to give her a nod.

“So, things getting any easier on you yet there boss?”

“With what, Angie? Not a chance, there’d be no point in trying to reason with her right now. And please don’t call me that, it’s weird.” Kaede replied, scratching her cheek a bit in embarrassment.

“Whatever you say. Time to get move on I take it?”

“Yeah, I’m not really sure what to be expecting though.”

“My best guess? Literal blackjack, minus the hookers." Ryoma began with a roll of his eyes and a shrug. "But barring that I know there are slots, a fishing game, some car racing, and color crusher type game. Pretty standard arcade stuff more than a genuine casino, they even use tokens instead of chips. They barely even look different from the monocoins.”

“Are casinos really so different? I only kinda know about them from western movies.”

“Yeah, I’d been to a few when I’d have competitions that’d take me overseas, so while this place definitely has the look of a casino down, and the slot machines do help, the lack of actual dealers makes it feel a lot different than how’d they work in America. Kinda weird how legal it was over there.”

“Sooo, you been to America often?” (Now’s my chance to find out more about his previous lady friend~)

“You know you’ve got a ways to go before you’ll be any good at being subtle. It’s kinda refreshing, with how guys like Kokichi can be, but your thoughts are an open book. Even your hair gives you away.” (Drat. But what does he mean my hair?... It’s the cowlick isn’t it? Stupid hair. I can never get it to behave right.)

His words rang true as Ryoma began to chuckle at the sight of Kaede’s not-so-inner dilemma. The wry smile didn’t leave his face as he slowed his pace at the fork in the road between the Kumasutra and their destination, causing her to match him until both came to a stop as he gave her a knowing look.

“Though before we head in, if a certain pink pianist has anything to do with a black and white bat-winged toy going missing in front of the fountain room, she might want to take a quick look near the entrance of the Love Hotel. Might find a similar prize wandering around in the bushes if she catches my drift.”

“W-what, why would I be picking up weird little Monokuma dolls? It’s not like there aren’t enough toys in the Monomachine, r-right?” (Damn, he’s onto me! But that’s a place I never thought to check before…)

“Right, of course there are. Must have been my imagination it just happened to disappear after you showed up... Or maybe someone else has been collecting them?” Ryoma’s words didn’t match the smug look on his face though, and it didn’t take long for Kaede’s attempt at indifference fell apart.

He paused for her to catch up as he watched her scamper down the right-hand path in search of another doll to join the two on her back and his chuckle broke into a full deep laugh. It didn’t take long for her to find it either, now that she had a proper hint.

AND HE’S SO CUUUTE! Lookit him with his little bellhop hat as he struts around, like he’s got himself a widdle job! … Ahem. I’ll… just put him in my bag with the others for now. And go thank Ryoma for this. Who is my new favorite person. Sorry, Kaito.

Kaede couldn’t wipe the stupid grin off her face as she made her way back, rambling her thank yous and giving half-hearted requests for him to keep from sharing her odd little hobby with the others. But all he could do was chuckle and nod as they made their way to where Kaito and the others were.

Kiyo was already in the exchange area, looking at the different bottles in the bar and upon noticing the two of them indicated everyone else were downstairs in the game room. Ryoma went on ahead to make sure Kaito wasn’t getting into too much trouble but Kaede took the time to look at the prizes she could try to save up for first.

Hmm, well the Crystal Bangle is nice but a lot of these look expensive, I wonder how hard it is to earn these medals. The Ladybug brooch is also pretty cute, Gonta might even like one as a gift sometime. A Travel Journal might be fun to look through and I could also probably find someone who’d like it when I’m done with it, like Kiyo sounds like he’s been to a bunch of places...

Tennis Balls are easy to have fun with when you’re bored but I could probably just borrow some from Ryoma’s lab rather than buy my own set. Don’t need any more Teddy Bears, even though it is pretty cute.  

The Factory game could also be a fun little time killer, and the console’s design is nice. I think it’d be good to have something to take care of daily so the Banyan Tree could be a good investment, but what would I call them? Plants gotta have names-

Holy shit look at those Headphones! Oooh, those would be great to use with my lab’s CDs, they even look like they dampen sound if I just need some quiet time. But it’s a bit pricey... The Space Egg is pretty but I’d rather use that money for the headphones. Oh wow, look at that key!

Ugh, that’s even more expensive though! What does it mean “something good might happen if you keep it”? Gah, I wanna know~

“See something in particular that catches your interest?” Kaede jumped a bit as Kiyo’s voice interrupted her thoughts. (Ryoma really wasn’t kidding when he said I was like an open book huh? Maybe I should work on that.  At least a certain someone’s bothering to “read” my feelings this time! Still mad at you.)

“Y-yeah, kinda. But the good stuff looks like it will take a lot of playing to save up for. Like those headphones. Or that mysterious “Key of Love”. Is that the only way to investigate the hotel area?”

“I highly suspect so but it doesn’t sound like you can really use if for “investigating”. Even with the key, you can’t unlock the doors before their “opening hours” and Monokuma indicated their use is rather limited in practice.” Kiyo said very matter of factly, despite this being the first Kaede ever heard of this.

“Huh? When did he ever talk about them before? You see him here earlier or something?”

“No, not at all, I already bought one the day before you see. Apparently, when you have one in your possession he sees fit to wake you at some unholy hour of the night to see if you might be interested in participating in an unusual scenario. How it was explained doesn’t particularly appeal to me though, so if you’d like it I’d be more than happy to give it to you.” (What?! But it’s so expensive! Why give it away?)

“A-are you really sure? I mean you must have spent a lot of time to buy it didn’t you? How bad is the “scenario” he offered you exactly?”

Despite her concerns, Kiyo had no issue with taking the decorated key out of his pocket, so Kaede gladly accepted the trinket dropped into her waiting hands. Seeing how confused she still was he explained.

“It’s hardly like any of our currency matters in this place, and it isn’t “bad” as much as it simply doesn’t interest me, intriguing as his offer was. You have no control who here may join you on your “visit” to the hotel, and whoever does will see the keyholder as some sort of “ideal” partner for their preferred sexual or romantic fantasy while the keyholder must act in accordance to this forced roleplay lest the other party feel terribly dejected. I’m not particularly fussy in regards to gender in cases like this so I don’t find the random element too distasteful, but it’s the lack of control the keyholder has that bothers me.”

“I see. And any purely romantic scenes might be kinda awkward the day after right? You said you took this sort of stuff rather seriously before, when you and Ryoma were talking about your past girlfriends.”

While her question was innocent enough Kiyo looked rather panicked by the mention of his previous partner. It took a moment to settle his wide-eyed staring, and lose the bit of hostility in the air, before he calmed down enough to respond. (Jeez, it’s like that time when I just asked him about if people had thought he had a siscon thing before. It’s pretty hard to not get nervous when he has freakouts like this.)

“Right. I… It has been awhile since Her passing but I’m not at all comfortable with that sort of intimacy. Particularly one that is forced for the sake of someone that should the scene play out right won’t keep many memories regarding the night previous. I’m unsure how that is meant to work, drugging perhaps? I wouldn’t put it past Monokuma or his kin.” (Yikes, why is that not the bigger deal breaker for you?!)

“M-maybe it’s more like a weird shared dream? That can happen right?” (And be maybe be less rape-y? Please?!)

“Perhaps, but then how would the partner be selected I wonder. Or the “dream” controlled. A most peculiar means to bear witness to a friend’s hidden desires. I can’t help but wonder what my own scene could contain. Nothing in regards to Her I’m sure, as that ideal would be too intricate to match to my satisfaction; I know Her too well to be fooled by a fake.” (It must still be hard to for him to accept she’s gone if he’s still using present tense for her like this. Though I wonder what mine would be like too.)

“So was she like a childhood friend of yours?”

“I… suppose you could say something like that. I do hope you enjoy whatever beauty your nighttime visit may reveal to you. You would let know if I was your visitor, wouldn’t you? Simply for curiosity’s sake of course.” It was clear he wanted to drop the subject as he teased her, which still got Kaede flustered at the implications.

Luckily for her, she wouldn’t need to respond to this as Kokichi came up the stairs with a childish pout.

“What are you two still doing up here? Come on you’re missing the good stuff! No more of your dilly-dallying, the prizes don’t even matter right now! This is supposed to be a good time together. Isn’t this what you wanted Kaede? Or does that only count for if it’s something Tenko invited you to?” Kokichi pointed at her accusingly as he complained. (Okay, yup he knew. At least he’s not actually mad about it.)

It was fairly obvious any annoyance he was feeling was fake, he even stereotypically crossed his arms as he humphed for emphasis, but his adamance that she come down certainly wasn’t. Seemed rather odd to her considering she should be the more optional person for his gambling crew than Kiyo was, seeing how Kokichi claimed this was meant to be a guy focused event and Kiyo was the one who invited her.

Rather than respond she rolled her eyes with a giggle as he took her by the hand tugging her down the stairs and half-heartedly encouraged Kiyo to follow them so they could see “just how much Kaito sucks at gambling” as he put it. The transition from the warm golds of the Casino’s main hall to the neon-lit blues of the game room down the stairs was odd as ever but she was beginning to see what he meant.

Maki was clearly trying, and failing by the looks of things, to encourage Kaito to stop playing the slots to at least try something less random as he must have been on some sort of losing streak. Regardless of his own luck she still managed to have a fairly large pile of tokens beside her, which was probably part of how Kaito could continue playing at all, while Ryoma was messing around with some of the other games. It looked more like he was investigating than playing though, and Kokichi caught that too.

Upon reaching the bottom he suggested that Kaito and Maki switch machines so the six of them could sort out what games would be played by who had the most “luck” at slots first. Everyone would get to pick a game in the order from who won the most to the least, and he even had a bunch of card games on him to give them a few more options “in case the arcade games here suck ass”. (Which probably means his choice really will be Blackjack just to be cute. Not that I know how to actually play Blackjack.)

Kaede wasn’t entirely sure how this “competition” was really working, as all she knew to do with these was pull the lever and leave everything to chance. If anyone asked her what any of the combinations on these machines meant she wouldn’t be able to tell them, but since she was getting more medals than she put in (and she put in as many as she could each time) she figured she wasn’t doing too badly.

That was more than Kaito could say as he quickly burned through the last allowance Maki gave him putting him dead last. Ryoma proved to be nearly the opposite not long afterward, as his machine started to practically sing as it spat out medals for him at a ridiculous looking rate. Kokichi wasn’t quite that good, but he also did fairly well.

According to his huffy attitude, Kiyo managed to do better though, and Maki gave up at some point to take jabs at Kaito so she was considered second to last while Kaede was considered third last. (Oh well, I never was all that lucky anyway. Not really unlucky either, but still this was fun.)

Kokichi was obviously very impressed by Ryoma’s skills and luck to do as well as he did which just earned some sore losers griping from Kaito much to Kaede’s amusement. She did try to muffle her giggles best she could, but that quickly became an impossible effort. Even Maki couldn’t wipe the sly smile off her face as a thought crossed her mind.

“It’s hardly either of their faults you happen to be the idiot who doesn’t know how to quit even if he does manage to get ahead.”

“Come on Maki Roll, stop calling me an idiot! It hurts my feelings ya know...”

“Then stop acting like one. There’s hardly anything smart about gambling in the first place. There’s a reason it’s illegal and I’m not going to bail you out if you get addicted to it.” Maki chastised him, and with her aura, Kaede could almost believe her false talent of child-caregiver wasn’t wholly misplaced.

“Hey now, you’re talking to Kaito, Luminary of Stars! No way I’d do something as uncool as get hooked, I can stop whenever I want! My instincts were just off today is all.”

“That’s not the best argument for your case my friend, and there’s more this than instincts and luck,” Ryoma said, as he stared at his coin pile at a loss for how he would actually carry any of his winnings.

“Luck’s just a superstition, it doesn’t really matter if you try hard enough!” Kaito exclaimed, though Kiyo only shook his head at that as he began his own ramblings.

“And how exactly do you believe you can “try” hard enough with slots of all things? Surely you must see that the other options here have some level of skill about them yes? And besides that, it’s hardly as much a superstition as you may believe-”

“How is it that after we got stuck in a school without any teachers we still managed to end up with a guy who’d end up giving us all lectures anyway? I didn’t wanna learn today…” Kokichi groaned.

“Kehehe, then why invite me of all people? My inclination towards education is hardly an unknown fact here. But back on topic, it’s odd someone who puts so much faith in the power of personal belief to try to denounce the power of superstitions. If you truly don’t believe in the supposed superstition their effects should hardly affect you, much like many practices in religions like Voodoo.” Kiyo continued after Kokichi’s interruption, though upon the mention of “Voodoo” Kaito looked rather ill again.

“The reason they last in the cultural consciousness as long as they do is but a testament to how many of its people still believe in them, rather than proof of any grains of truth to be found. This can get to the point idioms can exist in common usage for long after the meaning of their words have been lost to the people that use them in favor of the concept they are thought to represent. Humanity often puts a lot of faith in the power of words and the hopes that by using them to influence the hearts or minds of others that they can sway the powers of fate in any manner of ways. Luck is more often based on observation and personal perspectives, as what counts as “lucky” or “unlucky” is incredibly subjective and fickle.”

“Basically. Though confidence can change how something’s going to go too." Ryoma agreed. "You can’t expect to win a match if you go in thinking you’re going to lose. The mind’s a powerful thing, that’s why things like placebos can work at all. That’s why in sports it can get easy to develop personal patterns or pre-game rituals, you get to thinking if it worked well before it will again.”

“But luck isn’t a superstition because it’s only there if you want to see it and superstitions are more complicated than that? Ugh, this stuff is confusing! Let’s just have some fun with the games! It’s Ryoma’s pick, right? So shoot.” Kaede suggested in hopes of finding something to lighten Kaito’s mood.

As Ryoma also saw the problem he offered to play the 1-on-1 mode in Outlaw Run against him, while at Kiyo’s request Kokichi finally got his game of blackjack. Implicitly under the threat that Maki would throttle him if he tried using the joke that started all this again. Maki turned out to be pretty good at it while Kiyo didn’t fare as well. As Kokichi was willing to share the rules to it as they went along Kaede at least got the hang of it before they moved onto the other arcade options.

It was a nice night overall as they fell into idle chattering, seeing how much they could win. Kaede quit after she earned enough for her headphones though, but she stayed with the others after trading for her desired spoils just to enjoy this atmosphere for a little longer.

When Kaito called it a night Ryoma left with him, with some light-hearted bantering with Kokichi as the latter tried to give him a “Death Flag” under the pretense of it being like a Jolly Rodger dissolving into a brief debate about space pirates.

As Maki left some time afterward, apparently having gotten herself the Space Egg Kaede noticed before, Kaede went with her so neither girl would be wandering around on their own at night. (What can I say, some instincts are hard to break. And it’s not like they’re really out of line in this place now are they?)

The walk back was fairly quiet, as Kaede didn’t really know what to say and Maki wasn’t often one for conversation, but it was a pleasant silence between the unlikely pair. A far cry from how tense things could be around the revealed assassin before, which in itself was a hopeful sign of progress.

But not one that was able to last, as Kaede began to hear arguing coming from behind the doors to their dorms. Kaito’s voice first as his was louder and deeper, and given how things have been going the second was likely Angie’s.

Kaede sent a nervous look to Maki, to see if she should go first to make sure things wouldn’t be too hostile to her friend, but Maki paid no heed to it and opened the doors herself. Kaito and Ryoma still hadn’t gone to their rooms yet and Angie, Tenko, and Tsumugi were standing near the opposite wall.

“So what if we were out a bit late? There ain’t any official curfews and we’re more likely to wake someone up by talkin’ here than we would have if you let us be. You’re all overreacting, back off.” Kaito complained.

“Official curfews? Maybe, maybe not, but there will be one for us all starting today." Angie said. "Atua thinks the next murder would most likely happen at night, like Himiko’s did before, and as such the student council will be responsible for making sure everyone else is safe in their rooms when nighttime comes from now on.”

“And let me guess, for you guys to “enforce” it this rule won’t be actually applying to any of you does it? So this would only be keeping half of everyone here inside. Not sure how that would prevent anything.” Ryoma said, being one of the few keeping his volume lower than normal for the sake of those sleeping.

“Of course it would when that half doesn’t include anyone we know has a penchant for violence!” Tenko barked, placing herself between Kaito and Angie.

“Seriously, this again?! And that’s bullshit, you’re the one here most prone to throwing us guys around! Not to mention Kirumi’s outburst. Ryoma and Maki haven’t threatened anyone, not even when she had her video freak her out back then… Well okay, she says scary stuff sometimes, but she doesn’t mean it!”

Kaito was clearly making the effort to keep his voice down, but with his personality, it was hard to keep his enthusiasm from causing his voice to raise. But at least no doors opened to see what the ruckus was.

“I don’t need anyone defending me here, Kaito, so stop it. But I agree with Ryoma. Even if your Atua isn’t a lie with so many people still being allowed out during this danger period the odds haven’t really changed. You’ve just limited the potential murderers and victims to put your own people at the greatest risk.”

“Fine, fine~" Angie sighed. "Then I’ll ask Monophanie if she and Monodam will do the rounds for us with their Exisals tomorrow night, okay? Since she’s sleeping like Atua is right now and I don’t know where he would be.”

“What the fuck?! You’ve got to be kidding, you can’t seriously be trusting these clowns! Basic wilderness survival tip: Never. Trust. A. Bear. With absolutely anything! EVER.” (Exactly! And that reminds me-)

“So, should I ask Monodam to reopen the manhole cover while we’re taking the risk of asking them for favors? I saw what you guys did earlier, this isn’t something you should be deciding for everyone alone.”

“THEY DID WHAT-” Kaito stopped himself mid-yell as he remembered himself and tried again. “You guys did what? That’s going way too far-”

“Come on, let’s all just go to bed okay? It’ll just plain bother everyone if we wake them up like this. Why don’t we talk about things tomorrow after we’ve all had some rest and time to think?” Tsumugi offered to try and settle things down, as she began nervously looking at the rooms around them.

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea too. This needs to be discussed with everyone, we won’t accomplish anything here otherwise.” Kaito gave Kaede a worried look but backed down at her request. They didn’t say anything of where the other council members were or when Kokichi and Kiyo would be coming back.

Kaede thinks she heard their footsteps signaling their return a short time later as she was trying to sleep, as neither set sounded as heavy as Gonta or Kibo (despite the latter’s small stature) and both lacked the gentle clicks of Kirumi’s heels so she assumed the other members had already gone to bed.

But that wasn’t her only interruption as she heard a squeaky set of knocking at her door. She ignored the first few sets of rapping, but after the fifth set of three squeaks she gave in and found Monodam on the other side wearing a sleeping cap and a blankie. (What the actual hell, didn’t I see enough of you today?)

“Err… Hello. I’m-Sorry-If-I-Woke-You-Up-But-I-Heard-You-Have-An-Item-You-Could-Use. I-Thought-This-Would-Be-A-More-"Polite”-Way-To-Ask-You-About-It. May-I-Come-In?” (... Is this about the Love Key?)

He took her moving to the side as permission and puttered his way in like a sleepy toddler, giving Kaede’s collection of dolls an odd glance as he took a seat on the couch, patting at the seat beside him. With a sigh she humored him, and he began to explain while swinging his feet from side to side.

“This-Is-My-First-Time-Doing-This, Normally-Father-Didn’t-Let-Us-Help-Since-It’s-Past-Our-Bedtimes. But-Monosuke-Didn’t-Want-To-And-Monophanie’s-In-Angie’s-Room-So-It’s-My-Job-Now. So… Do-You- Have-Any-Ideas-On-How-This-Works? We-Know-You-Didn’t-Buy-It, Only-Kibo-And-Kiyo-Have-Bought- Them-So-Far-And-Only-Kibo-Used-His.” (Woah, what? KIBO??? Not like… Miu or Angie or something?)

“I, Uh… Kiyo gave me the general idea of it sure. If I go I’ll meet up with one of my friends at random and play out some sort of “scene” with them. That’ll… Probably be suggestive. But they won’t remember anything about what happens in there if I go.”

“Correct! Except-It’s-Not-Actually-Random, We-Choose-Who-Goes-With-You. We-Try-To-Make-It-With- Someone-We-Think-Makes-A-Good-“Ship”-With-You. Monophanie-Got-Really-Into-That-Part, She-Has- Charts-For-You-All-And-Everything-Now! We-Think-Father-Went-According-To-Popular-Demand-Too. Do-You-Want-To-Use-It-Tonight?” (“Popular demand”? According to what? Or who? What even is this?!)

“... That depends, can I just tell you who I’d like to meet? Or ask who you have in mind?”

“It’s-Not-Fair-For-You-To-Pick! Even-If-Kibo-Would-Have-Picked-Miu-On-His-Own, Father-Still-Didn’t-Let- Him-Choose. But-According-To-Monophanie’s-Charts… I-Think-Kaito-Had-More-“Ship-Tease”-With-You-Today-Than-Kokichi-Or-Kiyo. But-Which-Of-Those-Three-Is-Still-Up-To-Me.”

NOOOPE. NOT HAPPENING. Either Maki kills me or I’ll wish she did. No matter how nice Kaito is I’m not doing that to her. And heaven forbid I get either of those other two, definitely not interested. I don’t want to think about that stuff with Miu, but if Kibo didn’t forget… That might explain some things. But it’s just too sad to consider right now.

“Yeeeah I think I’ll pass.” (Potential for embarrassment and self-preservation beats curiosity this time.)

“Oh. That’s-A-Shame, We-Don’t-Really-Know-How-This-Works-Yet. Sorry-Shuichi-And-Rantaro-Aren’t- Here, They-Were-Monophanie’s-First-Picks-For-You. And-Kokichi’s-Too, Which-Was-Kinda-Weird-To-Me. Maybe-Things-Will-Be-Different-Tomorrow-Night.” (I… I’ll just forget I heard that. For multiple reasons.)

“Do… Do you even understand what a “love hotel” is ?”

“Of-Course! It-Is-A-Place-Where-Things-Like-Father’s-Videos-Happen. The-Ones-With-The-Delivery-Men- And-Women-Who-Keep-Ordering-Things-Without-A-Means-To-Pay-For-Them. I-Don’t-Understand-Why- They-Keep-Doing-It-Though, And-Monokid-Would-Always-Kick-Me-Out-Before-The-Payment-Issue-Was- Resolved-So-I-Don’t… Miss-Kaede-Why-Are-You-Holding-Your-Face-Like-That? Did-Your-Eyes-Fall-Out?”

“No, it’s fine. I’m not sure what I should have expected here really.”

“Okay. It’s-Fine-If-They-Did-Though, It-Happens-To-The-Best-Of-Us! But-With-That-Question-Answered- I-Have-Another-Thing-To-Ask…” Monodam got a bit nervous so Kaede nodded for him to continue. “Is- It-Okay-For-Me-To-Stay-Here-Tonight? Monosuke-Says-He’ll-Do-The-Announcements-By-Himself-Now- When-He-Kicked-Me-And-Monophanie-Out-And-Angie-Said-It-Was-Okay-For-Her-To-Stay-With-Her. So- I-Thought-I’d-Ask-Is-All...” (Good grief, seriously? Why me? I can’t go kicking a kid out this late, even if he’s a cub. That’d just be fucked up. So is a bunch of childish robotic-teddy-bears kidnapping us, but still.)

“Fine, You can stay. Just for tonight, I’d rather you not get in the habit of this. Hopefully, you can work things out with your family tomorrow or something.”

He wasn’t really listening as he just gave her side an awkward hug. But any moment had was quickly lost.

“Thank-You. I-Also-Hope-This-Will-Just-Be-For-The-Night. Your-Collection-Of-Tiny-Not-Fathers-Is-Rather- Disturbing-To-Me. Shuichi’s-Room-Has-Shelves-For-Those-If-You’d-Like? So-You-Can-Get-Them-Off-The- Bed-So-You-Can-Sleep-Better-”

“But they’re teddy bears, why shouldn’t they be on my bed with me? Who keeps plushies on a shelf?!”

“... Miss-Kaede-You’re-Worrying-Me. Why-Do-You- Like -The-Not-Fathers? How-Do-You-Fit-In-That-Mess- Anyway? Are-You-Okay? Is-This-A-Cry-For-Help-”

“Do you want me to kick you out? And why did I become a “miss” instead of a “bastard” if you’re going to keep being rude about how I keep my own room?”

“No-Miss-Kaede, I-Will-Stop-Questioning-Your-Creepy-Not-Father-Pile. Monophanie-Said-Angie-Told- Her-That-If-We-Want-To-Be-Friends-Calling-You-Bastards-“Bastards”-Is-Bad. Am-I-Doing-Okay?” (NO.)

“Well, uhh, that’s good progress for you? “Miss” is much more respectful. So just… Keep working on it.”

“... Is-It-Complaining-If-I-Ask-To-Use-A-Different-Bed? Like-This-Chair? It-Is-Comfy-And-I-Fit-Well.” It was pretty clear he just wanted to be as far away from her Mini-kumas as possible, further helped by the chair facing away from it. Being a rather bouncy seat for him was just another plus he was enjoying.

“Sure, just give me a minute.” Kaede went through some of the Monomachine prizes she had to find something to help make a better bed. (A rude uninvited guest is no excuse to be a poor hostess, right?)

As she came back and gestured for him to get down so she could make his bed she realized the blank stare he kept giving the toys on her bed was probably his best attempt at a glare. With a chuckle, she laid down a wearable blanket as a little nest and added her Helping Yachi for some company, which he appreciated as he snuggled into place with another set of “thank yous”. It was almost cute, all things considered. (Ignoring how he’s a murderous little brat only here ‘cause no one else can stand him.)

Nothing else came up as she tried to go to sleep again at least. Not even her previously racing thoughts about the current motive’s potential dangers or unpleasant memories of the days previous, as she chose to focus on her unwanted roommate’s odd sounding snoring to help ease her into slumber at long last.

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[ibelongtonegan]

The Argument (Negan one-shot)

All right, so this all started out with a scene from Extant, where JDM’s character, JD Richter is trying to stop his daughter from leaving the house by slamming his hand on the door above her head… This scene got me thinking and it turned into this naughty little Negan one-shot…

Summary: you are one of Negan’s wives and have a heated argument with him leading to hot, rough make-up sex…

Characters: Negan x Reader, Lissa (OFC, one of Negan’s wives), Simon and Negan’s other wives make a cameo as well

Word count: 4,091

Warnings: angst, dirty talk, smut (breath play, mild coercion, mild restraint, rough sex, vaginal sex), swearing

Tags: @negans-network

You can read this fic on AO3 as well.

“That’s enough, Negan! I’m done with you!”

You were yelling at the top of your lungs at your husband, not being able to control your anger anymore. You were tired of him and his games. It had been three months since you agreed to become his wife but your marriage was anything but perfect. He barely had time for you, and even when you were together, you most certainly didn’t act like a normal couple. Not that your marriage could be labelled as normal, far from it.

Your husband was Negan, the leader of the Sanctuary, a factory complex that provided shelter for a few hundred of survivors of the apocalypse, who in return for safety, worked for him. Negan did not rule these people only: he made several communities of survivors in the area provide for him, through weekly offerings of food, guns, supplies, or whatever they could scavenge or produce in exchange for protection. But Negan was busy with other things too: he had five other wives beside you.

Initially you found the idea of becoming one of his wives crazy. Join his harem and share him with other women? You didn’t want to hear any of it. But Negan was a very persuasive man. If he wanted something, he didn’t stop until he got it. And he wanted you, badly. He did everything in his power to make you succumb to him and ultimately you couldn’t resist his charms anymore and agreed to marry him. Not that you actually had a proper wedding ceremony let alone a honeymoon. Such luxuries were not possible in the apocalypse. You exchanged vows in private and from the moment you said yes to him, your were his wife. His sixth. Thinking back on it now three months later, you had regretted your decision.

You were far from being happy in this marriage. You loved Negan, with all your heart and hoped that he loved you too, in his own way at least. But even if he loved you, he had five other wives and you couldn’t help but feel jealous of them. Negan tried to spend equal amount of nights with all of you, with Saturday usually being “your night” every week. But Negan didn’t follow anybody’s rules, but his own. He started to deviate from the schedule recently by picking another wife on Saturdays instead of you, and there was nothing that you could do about it. You tried to seduce, beg and fight him, but all your efforts were in vain, he couldn’t be persuaded in any way.

Despite the absurdity of the situation, you had a fairly good relationship with the other wives. You were all competing for the affections of Negan, but still got along relatively well with each other, well, at least most of the time. You were especially close with Lissa, Negan’s fifth wife for she took you under her wing when you married Negan and helped you settle in at your new home. She was the only person you trusted with your secrets and the only person who knew about your frustration with your husband.  

It was Saturday evening and you were all resting in the lounge area of the wives’ quarters, waiting for Simon, Negan’s right-hand man to arrive and announce Negan’s pick for the night. Sherry and Frankie were chatting amicably, Amber was reading a gossip magazine with a lollipop between her lips, Tanya was sipping on a cup of tea and Lissa was busy painting her nails a deep shade of ruby red. You were reading your favourite novel but could hardly pay attention to the story with your thoughts wandering around Negan. Biting your lip nervously you looked up to the silver clock on the wall, for the hundredth time in the last hour. Simon could be here any minute. You were wearing your favourite white shirt, navy miniskirt and that gorgeous pair of navy stilettos Negan gave you for your birthday. You put on some dark eye-shadow and a beautiful nude shade of lip gloss to complement your look. You looked good. Hell, not only good, but thoroughly fuckable and you most definitely were down to fuck, finally.

You held your breath when Simon appeared at the door, making your heartbeat quicken. Negan had spent the last two Saturdays with Amber and you missed him. You missed his touch on your skin, his lips teasing your body and the way he felt inside you. But Simon did not stop at your chair but walked over to Amber lounging on the couch and told her to get ready and meet Negan in his room in half an hour.

“What the hell, Simon? It’s Saturday!” you jumped up from your seat abruptly. The other wives stopped what they were doing and were staring at you in shock. They have never seen you act like this before.

“Easy, Y/N. I’m only following Negan’s orders. If you have a problem with that, you should talk to him about it,” Simon replied nonchalantly and left the room.

Keeping her eyes on the magazine Amber started twisting a strand of her blonde hair around one finger. The artificial fruity scent of her lollipop invaded your nose.

“Looks like somebody is jealous,” she muttered under her breath.

While beating the shit out of Amber in retaliation was a seriously tempting idea, you dismissed it quickly and decided to do just as Simon suggested: go and talk to Negan.

You threw your book down on the table and stormed out of the lounge heading straight to Negan’s room that was located at the other end of the corridor.

“Y/N, wait! You cannot just go to him now!” Lissa called after you, but you barely heard her due to the cloud of anger enveloping you.

Your furious steps echoed in the hallway, the heels of your stilettos clicking against the concrete floor. On the way there, you were trying to think of what to say to Negan. You knew that you have argued with him about this, in fact several times before, but nothing you said would make him change his mind. He always dismissed your complaints and said: “You don’t get to decide when I spend time with you, dear wife, I do.”

You were quickly pulled out of your thoughts when you arrived at Negan’s black door. Without bothering to knock, you pushed down the doorknob and stepped into his room only to find him sitting on the couch, talking to Simon who was standing next to the coffee table. Negan was visibly not pleased to see you dare to enter without knocking and him inviting you in first, but you didn’t care. Your blood was boiling with rage and good manners or Negan’s preferences about wife visitation were the last things on your mind right now. You went straight to the couch opposite Negan and sat down with your arms crossed in front of your chest, eyeing him intensely.

“Well pardon me, dear wife, excuse the shit out of my goddamn French, but what the fuckity fuck is going on?” Negan asked irritated, drumming his fingers on his left knee.

“I need to talk you. Now,” you said harshly.

“We are in the middle of a strategy meeting right now, darling. You and I will talk tomorrow evening after the run.”

“No, we need to talk now,” you insisted standing your ground.

“I think I better go and check the ammo inventory before tomorrow’s run,” Simon excused himself hesitantly, waiting for Negan’s approval. He knew all too well what was coming and didn’t want to get caught up in the middle of it. Negan kept his eyes on you for a moment before giving Simon a curt nod, effectively dismissing him. Simon went to the door and closed it silently behind him.

“What the fuck, Negan? Seriously? You are picking Amber for tonight? Again? Saturdays are supposed to be mine!” you blurted out, not being able to hold back any longer. You were too furious to sugar-coat your words.

Negan gave you a knowing smirk. It looked as if he had expected the exact same reaction from you. He leaned forward on the couch, his black leather jacket making a squeaking sound as he ran his gloved hand through his beard.

“Oh, of course. Here we are again, sweetheart. You still not being able to come to terms with your place in my harem,” he said smiling.

“I’m tired of this, Negan. I’m not your toy to be tossed aside when you get bored of me!” you spat at him and slammed your fist on the coffee table. Your whole body was shaking with fury.

Negan suddenly pulled out and grabbed your arm on the table. The buttery soft leather of his glove tightened around your wrist with an iron grip.

“Don’t you dare to do that ever again!” he snarled at you, his voice dangerously low.

“Or what? What are you going to do about it?” you challenged him boldly. You were adamant not to let him intimidate you.

“If I didn’t know you, doll, I would think that you are picking a fight on purpose, to piss me off. Looks like I need to remind you again that I own you, baby girl and can, indeed, do as I please with you,” he growled at you. You tried to free your wrist from his grip but he was holding it tightly. “If I want to spend Saturday or any fucking night of the week with you, I will and if I don’t, then I’m going to spend it with whichever of my wives I fucking want to. Either way, you don’t come to me, I come to you, if and when I like it,” he replied now himself boiling with rage. “And I suggest you watch your mouth, sweetheart, for I will certainly not tolerate that tone any fucking day of the week from you!”

A dangerous flame was burning in his eyes now that should have warned you to back off, but you were past the point of no return. His words have only fuelled your anger.

“Oh, forgive me, my beloved husband, for my ignorance and thank you for enlightening me on my place and rights as your wife,” you replied giving him a forced smile. “Now that I know what I can and cannot do, I know exactly what I’m going to do. If you don’t want to have me anymore, then I’m leaving. That’s enough, Negan! I’m done with you!” you yelled at him and tore your arm from his grasp. Jumping up from the couch you headed straight for the door. Once you have reached it you pulled it ajar but all of a sudden it slammed shut again before you with a loud bang.

You looked up to see Negan’s hand planted on the door next to your head. You were surprised at how quickly he reached the door but you had no time to contemplate this as he grabbed you by the throat and pushed you roughly up against the door, slamming his body against yours.

“Let me go, Negan, I’m leaving you!” you hissed at him trying to get away from his grasp but he held you firmly in place, his leather glove feeling cool against your skin.

“No, you’re fucking not!” he roared and before you knew it, his lips crashed against yours, claiming them in a passionate kiss. You tried to protest but he pushed his tongue inside your mouth.

You clenched your fists into balls and tried to push him away, but you didn’t stand a chance against him. He was taller and stronger, more than a match for you. He tightened his grip on your throat threateningly.

“Negan…no!” you protested as your breath hitched. You were still mad and didn’t want to give in to him, but couldn’t ignore the heat pooling in your belly. The way he took charge in bed has always been a turn-on for you and despite your mind protesting against it, your body started to respond to his touch eagerly.

“Oh, yes, sweetheart. You want this as much as I do. And you want it just like this, I know, so stop fighting me,” he grunted. You felt a new wave of heat course through your body at his words.

“No…I don’t want you…ever again!” you barked at him defiantly.

His lips curled up into a wicked grin.

“Oh, honey. I know exactly what you want. You want me to fuck you, right here, up against this fucking door, like there’s no tomorrow and you shall fucking have it.”

His lips came crashing down on yours again, eliciting a soft moan from you. You wanted to protest, but couldn’t anymore. Your primal instinct took over making you give in to him and meet his lips with equal intensity. To hell with logic, Negan was right. You wanted him and you wanted him to make good on his promise, just like he said. You slid your hands up his chest and wrapped them around the back of his neck.

He broke the kiss and released his grip on your throat for a moment to shrug off his leather jacket and then tossed it on his bed. He was wearing one of his favourite white t-shirts that showcased his toned arms and chest. He started licking his way down to your collarbone, peppering your neck with kisses and soft bites, his stubble lightly grazing your skin. A whimper escaped your lips and you brought your hands up to run your fingers through his hair, tugging hard as he continued to pleasure you. His musky scent invaded your senses, mixed with a hint of leather, after-shave and mint, creating an irresistible combination.

Your anger has completely dissipated and was replaced with something else: hot, liquid desire that was coursing through your veins, taking over your mind completely. The heat of the argument turned both of you on, heightening your passion and lust for each other. You didn’t care about what was said before, the only thing that mattered now was tasting, touching and feeling as much of each other as possible and letting out the pent-up energy that accumulated in both of your bodies.

Negan moved his hands further down and reaching your shirt, ripped it open, making the buttons fly off and scatter on the floor. A low growl escaped his lips at the sight of your bare breasts.

“No bra? Naughty girl…,” he whispered in a raspy voice.

He grabbed your breasts greedily, enjoying the touch of your hot skin. He moved his lips to your hard nipples, licking and sucking them gently. He moved his hand down to your stomach and started drawing tiny circles with his thumb around your belly button, sending a jolt up your spine.

“Fuck, Negan!” you mewled helplessly, your mind engulfed in a haze of pleasure.

“Soon enough, baby,” he smirked relishing in the power he had over you.

Reaching the hem of your skirt, he lifted the garment and before you knew it, his left hand was cupping your sex, while his gloved hand was still around your throat, holding you in place.

“Fucking hell, darling, you are soaking wet already!” he exclaimed feeling your wetness through your panties, rubbing the soft cotton against your pussy.

“Oh, God…don’t stop!“ you pleaded and opened your legs further to give him more access.

“Oh, sweetheart, I don’t intend to,” he replied with mischief in his eyes. His lips continued their assault on your neck, now biting at your skin more firmly, leaving purple marks along the way.

“Oh, God! Negan, please!” you begged him panting hard.

“Please what, doll?” he asked huskily. “You’re gonna have to be a little more specific, baby,” he teased mercilessly.

“I…oh, fuck...I want your…I want your fingers inside me!” you managed to say in a shaky voice.

"Really? Is this what you want, doll?” he inquired matter-of-factly.

“Yesss…please!” you hissed through gritted teeth, overwhelmed by the sensual pleasures he was giving you. 

You tried to buck your hips against his fingers for more friction but he tightened his grip on your throat in warning and pushed his hips against yours to keep you in place. He pressed his erection into your core, making you gasp out loudly. You felt like you could come solely from the feeling of his bulge rubbing against you.

“Oh, no, doll, that’s not the way it works. You’ve been a very bad girl and for that I’m going to teach you a lesson. I will fuck you so hard that you will remember the feeling of my dick inside you for the rest of the week as a reminder that you are my wife, now and forever.”

With his free hand he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled out his hard cock. He pumped it a couple of times spreading the pre-cum over the smooth tip. With a single movement he ripped your panties from your body and tossed them aside. He picked up your legs and wrapped them around his hip as you kicked off your stilettos and let them drop on the floor.

Without hesitation he slammed into you, making you wince. While you were wet for him, he did not give you time to adjust to his size and started thrusting in and out of you in a brutal rhythm. The slight discomfort was soon replaced by sheer pleasure, making you arch your back against the door. You have missed the feeling of Negan filling you up completely and was already close to your climax.

“Who do you belong to?” Negan asked between thrusts, panting hard, snapping you out of your blissful haze. His pubic hair was grazing your clit, the friction driving you insane with need.

“To…ohhh...you…,” you stuttered between moans.

“Louder! Who do you belong to?” he urged tightening his hold on your throat, speeding up his thrusts at the same time. Tiny beads of sweat started to form on his forehead and temples. His moves became almost animalistic, the urge overtaking him. The sound of skin slapping against skin rhythmically filled the room.

“You! I belong to you, Negan!” you cried out feeling a little light headed from the lack of oxygen and starting to tighten around his cock.

“Good girl,” he praised, finally satisfied with your reply. His thrusts became faster and sloppier, signalling that he was getting closer to his peak.

“Now come for me, baby!” he commanded and his words finally pushed you over the edge making you scream out loud as pleasure washed over your entire body, making your arms tighten around his shoulders and your toes to curl up. It was the most intense feeling that cleared every thought from your mind. Negan pushed into you a few more times and came hard, cursing loudly and shooting his hot cum inside you.

Your legs felt like jelly and you couldn’t hold them around Negan’s hips anymore. You tried to steady yourself by holding onto his neck but you were so weak that your body started to slide down along the door. Negan released his grip from your throat allowing oxygen to fill your lungs, heightening the sensation of your post-orgasmic bliss. He grabbed your hips and knelt down on the floor, with his dick still inside you, so that you were straddling his lap. You were both panting hard, still coming down from your highs, your hair and clothes messy and your bodies covered in sweat.

“Looks like we should be arguing more often,” you murmured against Negan’s neck.

“We most certainly should.” he replied with a chuckle and started kissing your neck lazily. “I missed her so much.“

“Missed her? Who?” you mumbled sleepily against him.

“Well, your hot, wet pussy of course,” he laughed out wickedly.

“Asshole!” you exclaimed and punched him in the chest lightly, his crude remark earning a smile to appear on your lips. “I think she missed you too,” you whispered in his ear, giggling. His skin smelled of sex, sweat and a hint of soap and you snuggled closer to him to feel more of it.

“And what about Amber? Weren’t you supposed to spend tonight with her?” you asked hesitantly, remembering the reason for your argument earlier. You started drawing lazy circles on his chest absentmindedly. His skin felt hot and moist to your touch and his t-shirt stuck to his body.

“No, I was to spend tonight with you all along,” Negan replied simply.

You looked up at your husband in disbelief.

“But, Simon…he said that you…”

“Simon said exactly what I told him to say,” he countered looking at you intently, a mischievous smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

“I…I…I don’t understand…why did you tell him to…?” you started shaking your head when the realization hit you. “No…no, Negan, you didn’t! You did this all on purpose? To make me mad and start a fight?”

“Sure I did, darling. I remembered the make-up sex after our last argument and just couldn’t help it…I had to have more of that. And so did you, I believe,” he added and continued to plant feathery kisses along your throat.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you replied curtly pushing him away, crossing your arms in front of your chest and pursing your lips at him. You felt anger bubble up in your chest again at his confession.

“Oh, doll, you want to start another fight? I’m up up for it, as long as we make up with some freaky-deaky fun afterwards,” he beamed at you, bringing his gloved hand around your neck again and grasping it gently. It wasn’t painful but it was enough to remind you of how he restricted your air supply while he was fucking you earlier. You obeyed instinctively and dropped your arms from your chest. He smiled triumphantly and continued kissing and sucking your neck. 

“So…uhm…Amber, did she know about this?” you asserted.

“She was in on the whole thing right from the beginning. In fact, she was worried as fuck about how you would react to me choosing her on the previous two Saturdays already,” Negan added licking your collarbone, his stubble grazing your skin tantalizingly slowly.

“Wow…you planned this all out, didn’t you?” you looked at him in awe. And you thought he was neglecting you in favour of his other wives. You were thankful now that you didn’t give in to the temptation of beating Amber up earlier.

“It was worth it, wasn’t it?” he replied with an evil grin on his face.

“So…what’s going to happen now?” you inquired cautiously as Negan’s tongue left goosebumps in its wake on your still sensitive skin.

“You mean, after round two?” he asked licking his lips.

You sighed out loud and slapped his arm playfully.

“Negan, you are still inside me!”

“Oh, trust me, baby, I fucking noticed,” he replied huskily and moved his hands to your ass pulling your body closer in his lap. You could feel his cock harden inside you again. “What can I say? I’m an insatiable motherfucker.”

“Now that is something I can attest to. Especially the ‘motherfucker’ part,” you snorted rolling your eyes at him.

Negan gave you a dark look, narrowing his eyes at you, making you blush and shift uncomfortably in his lap. You knew how little tolerance he had for any of his wives acting insubordinately towards him and how he enjoyed doling out punishment for such behaviour. Not that you minded being punished by him if it meant a sweet torture like the one you have just had to “endure”... The idea of testing the limits of his patience seemed temptingly alluring...but you were still sore from earlier and needed some time to recover. Negan never failed to keep his promises and you were certain that you would indeed remember the feeling of him inside you for the rest of the week. Another time then, perhaps.

You gulped hard and looked away to escape his piercing gaze. “I mean..from now on. What is going to happen on Saturdays?” you pushed further.

“Saturdays are yours and yours only,” Negan murmured against your lips, nuzzling your nose with his.

You smiled at him happily, content with his reply. You leaned into him and kissed him deeply.

“I love you, dear husband,” you whispered to him between kisses.

“And I love you, dear wife,” Negan replied claiming your lips again.

[alliance-recruitment-agency-blog]

Logistics Headhunters - Choosing Supply Chain Management For Changeover Care Business

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Manufacturers always make more products than will sell every yr .. Sometimes these are sold by liquidators for a leading discount. Also you can try contacting local merchants and try to take their excess off their hands. Imagine of why these kind of materials are excess, though. Maybe these items didn't sell well for whatever reason and that is why they remain over.

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The Oughout.S. government heeded our collective might need safe real life dolls. Yes, that includes custom plush dolls. While these toys generally look safer in comparison to lead covered toy car, it still needs to pass certain laws and policies. To protect the consumers, and purchase have the particular Product Safety Improvement Act or the CPSIA.

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You must be able deal with the financials to men, from the making up to your logistcs headhunters. Manage factories and offices. Get the capacity hire the people in order to take care of someone works and departments. The next step is developing and improving enterprise enterprise slowly but surely. In doing this, you should be able the following all possible marketing and management skills in order to develop the said business. Require to also grow the customer base as well as product sale. 

Eastern philosophies have taught for thousands of years the perils associated with being the servant for one's mind. It's possible to live a healthier Logistics Headhunting Services life for those who are the master over your body and mind. How to make this transition an individual method that still relates awareness.

When Utilised to be a child, I had an unusual experience. For no apparent reason I set on bed one evening completely believing that I would definitely die around my sleep. I had been absolutely sure this was going to happen. I wrote notes to my parents, left instructions on what to use my things, cried Retail Logistics Headhunters noticeably and finally fell lying down. Can you even imagine what it felt like to wake inside the next moment?! Exquisite, blissful and miraculous don't even begin to share it! I knew We been given a new life, a cutting edge opportunity.

Business startups are very critical for your special business future. If you compromise on any thing in the starting it will linger as well as will result in some big goof up later during. So your business startup has to be very organized. Manpower is a big issue. You have to manage you manpower and assure that they do not screw inside things. Business also needs insurance legalities to be sorted. Security of you manpower is essential so you need to meet the security levels for you man vigor. Business startup sounds easy but needs lot of hard work and legal tangles. I'm hoping his article will have given a head place to your business setup blueprints and plans. 

In today's unstable economy and with threats like climate change and eco-terrorism American families need to acquire survival food storage, emergency preparedness and 72-hour kits. In the event of a disaster whether usually natural or man-made, local emergency men and women be facing the same problems becoming rest of us. It may take time three days, 72 hours or longer permit come with an assistance. Utilizing circumstances you will notice that yourself regarding your own for much larger. 

One route to finding them is to figure out who manufactures the item you wish to sell, contact the manufacturer and ask them to give the list of wholesalers they work with to distribute their device. Then begin contacting the wholesalers yourself and just listen if may well willing to install an account with users. 

But inevitably there is something would like that costs more than what they have money-back guarantee is when you're get to train them about saving. Specialists the hardest thing our kids have to who have really just figured out that money allows for you to get a person want. 

However among fighting can also be found with another transit packaging product. With every depressing announcement about job losses and company closures, the sales of padded covers which are attached to your tips of forks on fork lift trucks, Sumo Gloves, elevated rapidly. Companies that were previously trialling to some degree are now buying in unprecedented percentages. So why fight the recession with fork lift guards? Simple. The return on investment can include of a matter of hours nevertheless there is also less damage to stock, racking, vehicles, fixtures and crucially to folks. Spending rarely and wisely in the recession is obvious. Spending on a rapid payback unit is a no-brainer and certainly taking positive, aggressive action to fight the depression.

The more than 1.4 million members for this Teamsters Union work surrounding the entire global logistcs headhunters in ports, warehouses, rail, trucking, airlines, package delivery and waste and recycling. The Teamsters Union has been at the forefront among the green economy, strengthening ties to environmental allies and building coalitions to influence important rework.

The pre-requisite for any business to make a success is for optimal business map or project. Do your homework and research in the line of goods you intend doing online business. What type of goods searching for at, what amount the actual method or mode of cash you intend doing venture. You need to identify the nations you propose doing business with. You should research thoroughly before entering this industry. Just like any other business, you need your groundwork so you are sure that that the walls is strong and you will thank yourself for this. 

Cordless headphones have long been used to check on music, in case that is what your adult child become using them for, consider giving your next gift modest list like a second found.

Are you using natural dog food recipes? Need to be. Change anything cost much to make natural meals. It's quite simple to make something healthy and non-toxic for your loved small pet. Anyone who cares about the well-being of dogs really should get from your mass-produced "food" and should start creating the regarding food greatest friends so richly worth.

Author Name:- Shreya Mehta

Address:- 104 Esplanade ave 120, 

                 Pacifica, CA

Mobile No:- +1 917-668-8461

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Letter of introduction Dear. mr. neuman I had a take and thought it could be done better. This is a letter introducing Adam Carpenter He is  young, about 20 He is an absolute sweetheart and Very personable. He loves music, beer and can play a mean chord. He is well versed in his trade You know he will make a name for himself in whatever he does. I know it will be a pleasure for everyone concerned and hope you will enjoy hearing him play. affectionately Emily. Pizza: 8 Water:5 beer : one pack Pringles: if deal three Matzo ball soup: 1 Golden peanut snack: kosher: 1 Pizza kosher snack: 1 PBR: 1 JFK comes up a lot At work, where I work I work at the cinemas And we talk a lot about JFK People like to tell their favorite jfk quotes My favourite quote from JFK is as followed ich ein bin berliner It is the best quote ever The story is even funnier JFK went to germany He went to germany smoochez the germans and visit the berlin wall He went to germany show solidarity he told the german people ich ein bin berliner Which means I am a doughnut. Frames: 6 Baskets Hangers Socks Pants New shirts Laces Smaller belt More books More vinyl Wine glasses should be picked up By the stem rather than the bowl by the bowl Rather than the stem This helps keep the wine cool No one likes hot wine Unless you are an alcoholic In that case You just do not care Fruit or soup in cups Eggs or shellfish Fowl or meat {not a roast} Never a roast Please never serve a roast If you serve roast than you are bourgeoisie Salad dessert A Memory Banished        Disturbance        Gratitude and Suffering        Deception        Onward - As If To Breathe        A Memory Promised        Careless Whispers (Wham)        The Re-Evaluation of Tina        Silent Night (Gruber)        Altitude        The Doll in the Trees        The Berlin Dog        Stability        My Best Friend's Girl (The Cars)        Memorandum        Dog Stroll        Desire (A More Desperate Hell)        His Threads Are Bare And The Winds Are Marrow        Continence (From The Outside) Veal scallopini Roast turkey Mashed potatoes String beans with mushrooms Cranberry sauce, stuffing gravy How much would you pay? CITIZEN KANE CASABLANCA THE GODFATHER GONE WITH THE WIND LAWRENCE OF ARABIA THE WIZARD OF OZ THE GRADUATE ON THE WATERFRONT SCHINDLER'S LIST SINGIN' IN THE RAIN IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE SUNSET BLVD. THE BRIDGE ON THE RIVER KWAI SOME LIKE IT HOT STAR WARS ALL ABOUT EVE THE AFRICAN QUEEN PSYCHO CHINATOWN ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO'S NEST THE GRAPES OF WRATH 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY E.T. DR. STRANGELOVE BUTCH CASSIDY AND THE SUNDANCE KID Butter tolls Fresh fruit compote Cookies coffee How much would you pay? Moss Pebbles Clip on lamp Heat bulb Another vase This sandgrain day in the bent bay's grave He celebrates and spurns His driftwood thirty-fifth wind turned age; Herons spire and spear. Who tolls his birthday bell, And the rhymer in the long tongued room, Who tolls his birthday bell, Toesl towards the ambush of his wounds; Herons, stepple stemmed, bless. Who tolls his birthday bell, Through wynds and shells of drowned Ship towns to pastures of otters. He In his slant, racking house And the hewn coils of his trade perceives Herons walk in their shroud, Who tolls his birthday bell, More spanned with angles ride The man souled fiery islands! Oh, Holier than their eyes, And my shining men no more alone As I sail out to die Who tolls his birthday bell. Three of four varieties of cold cuts Such as Ham, turkey, no roast beef, lamb, or cold cuts. Never serve roast beef Scalloped potatoes Vegetable salad Buttered tolls Vanilla ice cream with green mint sauce Cookies Coffee He had one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in life. It faced, or seemed to face, the whole external world for an instant and then concentrated on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favor. It understood you just as far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself. Curried lamb or chicken Rice ring Chutney, raisins, ground nuts French bread, butter Raw spinach salad Ice cream and cake or cookies coffee The truth was that Jay Gatsby, of West Egg, Long Island, sprang from his Platonic conception of himself. He was a son of God—a phrase which, if it means anything, means just that—and he must be about His Father’s business, the service of a vast, vulgar, and meretricious beauty. So he invented just the sort of Jay Gatsby that a seventeen year old boy would be likely to invent, and to this conception he was faithful to the end.Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter – to-morrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther… And one fine morning – So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past. Alpha Desperation March palmcorder yajna Alpha Negative Transjordanian Blues Cry For Judas Golden boy Power in a union Quito Heel Turn 2 Lobster, shrimp newburg or beef stroganoff Rice Green olives Croissants Caesar salad Cheese and crackers Fresh fruit Coffee I am a big dylan fan I love most of what he put out My first album I got for my birthday My nana took me to get it It was hard rain I thought it was peter frampton on the cover I felt pretty ripped The recording of that was a mess The title of the album tells you all you need to know It was raining The band lost their steam from the rolling thunder revue But dylan just went out and blew everyone away It is one of my favorite live performances ever from him The lyrical changes are golden as well. Everything is intimate I still have it Seven years later For everyday use One complete set of four or six place settings of inexpensive china, pottery, or unbreakable plastic ware. Which now comes in the most attractive colours This set should include: Dinner plates Dessert plates {can be used for salad} Cereal dishes {can be used for soup, pudding canned fruit!} Cups Saucers Dinner plates Cups Cream pitchers 2 platters Dessert plates {can be used for salad} 2 vegetable dishes Which now comes in the most attractive colours so get this guess who’s the other j.lo? JON LOVITZ he’s the best j.lo also has the biggest bum no doubt WERQ IT 2ND J.LO 10 Beautiful Things That Can Kill You 10 ryan gosling 9 Sheep 8.Poppy 7 Sky Dancers 6 Moonlight’s Reflection 5 Beards 4 Blue Hole 3 Yarn 2 Art Sculpture 1 Hope Diamond A Great Big World, Christina Aguilera - The ending of most of Rick and Morty season 2 episodes Ghost Town (for some reason) The last scene in It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia Season 6: A Very Sunny Christmas The Notebook Brokeback Mountain The Fault in Our Stars movie and book thenicestplaceontheinter.net Sad Japanese Commercials R.E.M - Everybody Hurts Jeff Buckley - Hallelujah Avril Lavigne - Wish You Were Here It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia Season 6 Episode 10 I’ve read Goodnight Moon almost every night for the past two years.  It’s a wonderful book which my son enjoys.  Here are some of my issues with the bedroom depicted in it. 1.  The Size of the Bedroom This bedroom is enormous.  There is no one, I think, who has not noticed this.  As someone who has lived in apartments only slightly larger than “a little toy house,” it’s mildly vexing that this bedroom is the size of a banquet hall in Downton Abbey. Nice bedroom and/or place to possibly hold the 2024 Olympics 2. The Little Toy house. The little toy house would rent out for $2500 a month in Manhattan (not including utilities) This is not that little of a toy house.  Not only could the rabbit easily fit inside the “little toy house,” the little toy house also has working electricity.  Why are these rabbits so civilized?  Is this some f**ked up Watership Down sequel??? 3. The color scheme we’re going for is “exploded paint factory.” “So what color have we decided on for the upstairs child’s bedroom?” “Which child’s bedroom?” “The enormous one.  The one with the expansive tomato-colored floor.” “I was thinking for that room maybe a dark green?” “Really?  Dark green?  You don’t think maybe dark green walls with a tomato-colored floor is a bit much?” “No, it’ll look amazing.  We can break up the monotony of the color with some dark green and yellow striped curtains.” “That’s an amazing idea.  On non-matching red and yellow spearhead curtain rods?  Do you think a tiger skin rug would be overkill?” “For a young child’s room?  No.  Not at all.  ”   5. The  Bookshelf “For tonight would you rather read ‘Hop on Pop’ or the entire Encyclopedia Britanica?” Why are these books so thick?  This is a child’s bedroom, not a law library.  Unless this rabbit is defending a doctoral thesis, there’s no need for him to own every non-fiction hardcover from Farrar Straus and Giroux. 7. The Idea That Anyone Would Keep a Comb and a Brush and a Bowl Full of Mush on the Same Table 8.   Continued… Meanwhile, back at the ranch… “So what color do you think for the child’s bed?” “I was thinking like a tomato-ish red color?” “You remember the floor’s a tomato-ish red color.” “Yeah.” “You don’t think that’s a lot of red for a child’s bedroom?  We don’t want it to look like the Amityville Horror kill room or anything.” “You don’t trust me?  I’ve been decorating children’s bedrooms for almost twenty years.” “No, I trust you, I trust you.  So you want to do all the furniture in red?” “Are you out of your f**king mind?  Of course not.  For the rest of the furniture I was thinking something sophisticated, like a mustard yellow.” “For everything??  All the furniture?” “All the furniture.” “Even the little toy house?” “Are you seriously asking me this?  No.  Of course not.  The little toy house should be red.” 10. The Dangerously Non-childproofed Fireplace Also, nothing says “child’s bedroom” like an expensive mantelpiece clock bordered by Cookie Monster-blue funeral urns. 11. The Totally Ignored Existential Mouse As casual about their infestations as they are exacting about their interior design. 12. The idea that a child this young (rabbit or human) would need a black office telephone by his bedside. “Goodnight, Technologically-out-of-date telephone” Who’s calling, his financial adviser?  Why would someone this age need a telephone unless it’s to call the woman across the vast expanse of his bedroom to ask her to stop whispering, “Hush.” This Picture of Bears in a Couples Therapy Session "So you say your mother was protective. Tell me more..." “So you say your mother was…protective?” Husband Bear:  We’ve started fighting more since our son was born.  I feel like she resents me.  I feel like every little thing turns into an argument.” Wife Bear:  “How could I not resent you?  We have a newborn and you’re off eating salmon in a PBS documentary while I’m stuck at home 24/7. Husband Bear: “Don’t start, Janet!  That documentary was a once in a lifetime opportunity!” Therapist Bear:  You sound angry. Husband Bear:  Brilliant observation!  It took you eight years of graduate school to figure that out? Therapist Bear:  Let’s all take a deep breath.  In, two three, out, two three… (They are all silent for several seconds) Wife Bear:  Also, a tomato red floor seems like a really bold choice for a psychologist’s office, doesn’t it?