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hargrove-mayfields · 3 years

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Day two of the Horror on Cherry Lane Challenge! Today’s prompt is Rib Cage.

warnings for mentions of disordered eating.

It’s been a problem since he was young. Momma’s little projection of insecurity and status.

Steve doesn’t eat. Not when he can help it. And he’s good at hiding it too.

He wears concealer to cover the bags under his eyes. He goes and gets highlights in his hair to hide how dull and greasy it is. He brushes his teeth at least six times a day to hide the damage from the purging. And he buys his pants a size too big to pretend he’s not getting thinner.

But as good as he is at pretending, Billy’s even better at reading people.

Since November and getting put in his place by his step sister, Billy’s been an observer. The role of instigator went to Tommy while Billy sits atop his throne and just, takes it in. A dynamic not so different to what Steve once had with Tommy.

But it means he notices everything that goes down in his kingdom, and especially everything concerning Steve Harrington.

Steve doesn’t even notice at first that Billy has noticed him, not from the little remarks and the stares that last a little too long. It’s obvious, but he doesn’t get it. Doesn’t see what it is that draws his attention to him.

Not until Billy steps down from his royal court to confront him in the locker rooms.

Steve’s been avoiding the showers after practice for a long time. It’s bad enough being surrounded by that many other boys, all more fit than him in one way or another, but as if that isn’t enough, he has to show himself too. The second he takes his shirt off, everyone’ll know what he’s up to.

He’s proud of his body. He’s proud of having earned his beauty. But he’s humiliated by the questions. Be it the faux concern or the mockery he’s more than used to, he just wants nothing to do with it.

So he lingers, on the court talking to coach, pretending to be searching for something in his bag. Anything to keep him from having to face the nagging.

But Billy notices, because of course he does. And he sits on the bench between the lockers all smug like. Waiting for Steve to run out of excuses so he can corner him.

It works, after Steve digs through his locker for some imaginary object for the dozenth time, he sighs and turns to Billy, “You gonna keep starin’ at me, Hargrove? What’re you even still doing here?”

“Coach asked me to stay’n lock up. What’s your problem, man?” Billy hums casually, like he doesn’t even care how much he’s bothering Steve. It’s something he’s probably used to by now anyways.

If only he knew what that indifferent assailed routine did to Steve. He buries that for now though, to argue, “You seem to be the one with a problem.”

Billy snarks right back, “Ain’t wrong about that. But I was watchin’ you at practice. What’s wrong with your ribs?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re crossin’ your arms over your chest. You’re breathin’ all shallow like. You won’t even take your shirt off and get in the damn shower. Someone kick your ass Harrington?”

“No, no. That’s.. not it.”

“Uh-huh. Say the word n’I’ll put a stop to it. S’it Hagan? I told him to get off your case, man” Billy tries to convince him into admitting something, not knowing exactly what it is, but Steve shuts him down again, trying not to think too much about the concern in the other boys tone and expression.

“Seriously, dude. It’s just.. it’s me.”

“Right. ‘Cause you knocked your own self around like that. Lemme see it, Harrington.” Billy motions vaguely to Steve’s ribs, where the imaginary injury is, making his chest seize, flinching back from the touch that doesn’t land.

“No. No fucking way.”

“C’mere.” Before Steve can tell him no again, Billy steps forward and touches his ribs. His face looks sort of defeated when he doesn’t make Steve flinch or wince, clearly wrong, as Steve already knew, about the presence of a bruise.

His fingers gently linger though, tracing over each bone as they protrude through pale skin. It sends a shiver through Steve’s spine, and a spike of anger into his heart. Before Billy even opens his mouth, he knows he’s seen through him.

Knows Billy noticed that, just a month shy of the year anniversary of the fight, his body has changed far too drastically for it to be natural, or otherwise normal. His face softens in a way that’s so distinctly not-Billy, it makes Steve want to never see him that way again, “Steve..”

“Fuck off.”

But it’s too late, “Why’re you doin’ it?”

“Leave me alone, Hargrove. For real.”

“Don’t be stubborn, man. Lemme help you.”

“You don’t even know me, douchebag. I’m fine so just stop it.” Steve insists, panic rising in his chest, making his breath come out short and his throat real tight.

Billy doesn’t relent though.

“Yeah? Well I do know you’re starving yourself.” Billy counters, his tone surprisingly animated. It’s almost make Steve feel special if Billy wasn’t being an ass, “Used to think the school lunches were just below you. Thought your ass was too expensive for cold pizza like the rest of us ate. But I get it now. S’why you don’t drink either isn’t it?”

“Okay, you’ve been stalking me?”

“Just been keepin’ an eye on my competition. N’I don’t much like it when my competition starts gettin’ too depressed to even put up a damn fight.” It’s obvious Billy’s using that as a cover for something deeper that Steve doesn’t get, wishing Billy would just come out and say it already.

“Well I’m not much of a threat. Never was.” He prompts, but what Billy responds with instead instead is, “Exactly, and whose fault is that?”

Steve raises his eyebrows, surprised by the venom behind Billy's words. He’s even more surprised when Billy tears into him again, “M’serious. You’re wasting yourself away. It’s no damn wonder you can’t keep up anymore.”

That stings. “I thought you were getting better, but you’re clearly still an asshole.”

“And I thought you were alright to begin with. But I guess we’re both wrong.”

“So what the hell do you want me to say? Thank you my savior for savin’ me from myself?”

“Would you let me?” It’s not the answer Steve is expecting, the way Billy’s been acting since he confronted him, and he makes sure he knows, asking, “What?”

“Would you let me help you? Save you from what you’re doing?” Billy tries again, and it’s even more blindsiding this time.

“Like you even could. You said it yourself, Hargrove. I’m kicking my own ass here. You can’t help me.”

“I bet I could. You need someone in your corner.” Steve opens his mouth to argue, but Billy cuts him off quickly, “That curlyheaded kid don’t count. You need someone to look out for you. I’d let you be King again if it stopped this from happening.”

“But why would you?”

“I got my reasons.”

“Then just fucking tell me. If it’s good, I might think about it.”

“Look, I like you Harrington. I ain’t gonna stand by and watch you do this to yourself. Why’d you think I was checkin’ up on you in the first place?”

“To rub it in my fucking face that I’m unstable or some shit. Try to get dirt on me so you can make my life even more miserable.”

“What do I gotta do to show ya I really care then?” Billy sighs, but Steve hardly has the mind to detect his frustration, because he’s suddenly hung up by this declaration, simple to Billy but astroninal to him, “Wait- care? You mean, you don’t just like me in the same way everyone likes King Steve?”

“No. I meant it in the other way, Steve. The way I’m not so good at saying with words. The way I’ve trying to show you since we made things right. But I guess I’m not really good at this crush shit either.” Billy’s so bashful, so genuine, Steve knows he’s being honest, but some part of him can’t process it still.

“Oh.” Steve shakes his head, can’t believe it long enough to even look Billy in the eyes and deny it, “No-No you don’t. You’re fucking with me.”

“I do and I’m not. And that’s exactly why I’m not gonna sit around and watch this- this slow death you’re putting yourself through.”

Suddenly, this whole conversation goes from frustrating and pissing him off, to embarrassing. Like Billy's perception of him somehow changed his own. It’s funny how he was willing to argue with an enemy, but the second that other motive came into play, Steve finds himself flustered and trying to cover his tracks with a declaration of, “It’s not even that bad.”

But Billy continues to be a sweet talker, and he begs, all gentle and considerate, “Then let me fix it before it is. Please, Steve?”

“Okay.. okay.” Steve nods, biting the corner of his nail as he thinks, regretting it and shoving his hands in his pocket instead. He starts, after a moment of trying to collect his thoughts, “Just- Billy?”

“Yeah?”

“I like you too. That’s the only reason I’m accepting this.”

“Fine by me. How ‘bout I follow you back to yours tonight? Keep an eye on you still. Keep my promise too.” Billy offers, tone somewhat hopeful.

In response, Steve smiles shakily, so nervous his heart pounds in his chest. His ribs feel weak against its rhythm, like his chest could cave in from the combination of nerves and admiration, at knowing someone actually cared for him. He’s never felt more fragile than he does for Billy.

“I would like that a lot, Billy.”

#CherryLaneChallenge #harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #billy x steve #ej writer #story by ej!#tw eating disorder #we’re gonna pretend this isn’t over an hour late for day two because ive been too busy to post this okay

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dickspeightjrs · 4 years

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Dean still thanked Bobby every day for giving him a job at his store. Bobby would only respond with ‘shut up and stop thanking me ya idjit!’

But still, Dean was grateful. With Sam in his first year of college (Stanford Smart-Ass), even with a hefty scholarship, affording to live is still a bitch – especially in one of the most expensive states in the country.

So, on top of his job during the week as a TA at the local university, Dean picks up a couple shifts over the weekend at his Uncle Bobby’s vintage antique store.

Now, while Dean was extremely grateful, the gratefulness didn’t stop the fact that the job was boring as hell.

If you asked Dean, half the stuff in the store looked like it should be donated to Goodwill not be in a vintage store on sale for hundreds of dollars.

(It’s not that Dean didn’t understand the appeal of vintage items. He could appreciate a vintage beauty. His car was a prime example of that. However, despite what the price tags may say, none of this junk held a candle to his beautiful 67 Chevy Impala.)

The place was hardly heaving, even on weekends. And when customers did come in each interaction went one of two ways:

People brought in their old junk in an attempt to pass it off as some rare artefact. Trying to convince those people that what they thought was a valuable medal, passed down through generations may as well have come out of a Happy Meal was not Dean’s favourite way to spend his Saturday.

The second, and perhaps the worst, type of customer would be the rich, entitled people who come into the shop wanting to expand their collection of antiques (which Dean knew without having to visit their homes that they only purchase to show off their wealth and don’t particularly care where they come from). They could be buying a Victorian butt plug to display on their mantelpiece but wouldn’t care as long as it’s as old and expensive as possible.

Dean had a customer just last week who took hours trying to haggle on the price of an antique brooch, despite clearly being about to afford it at full price. If Dean didn’t need the job to support Sam he would have told the woman exactly what he thought of her. (Even Bobby had rules when it came to professionalism). Regardless, she was a total –

“I need a ring!”

Dean was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of a man entering the store looking pretty flustered – emphasis on the pretty.

The man made quick strides of the distance between the door and the counter where Dean was still stood – transfixed by the frankly beautiful man coming towards him.

The man stopped and let out a deep and calming sigh.

“I need a ring.” He repeated more smoothly.

Regardless of how he feels about the customers, no one could say Dean wasn’t awesome at his job. So he put on his best customer service smile, tried to ignore the things this man was making his body feel and silently thanked Bobby once again for this.

“Of course, Sir. Was there anything in particular you had in mind?”

The man frowned.

“Please. There’s no need to call me ‘Sir’. Just call me Castiel.”

Castiel. Angelic

Go figure.

“Okay, Castiel. Are you looking for any kind of ring in particular?”

As he spoke, Dean started to move towards the key box that held the key to unlock the glass cabinet, which housed all of their rings.

“Your most expensive if possible, please.”

Dean stopped in his tracks and looked momentarily at Castiel with wide eyes.

Not only is this dude hot as fuck, he’s rich as fuck too?

Dean was used to asshole rich people throwing their money around but even they had a limit. Coming in and asking for the most expensive ring before even seeing it? Dean didn’t care how gorgeous this guy was, or how blue his eyes were, or how rough his voice sounded, or how sharp his jawbone looked, or –

Anyway! This dude was clearly a douchebag so Dean wasn’t interested.

He opened the glass case and lifted out the most expensive ring, placing it delicately on a black cloth for Castiel to look at.

Castiel picked it up between his finger and thumb – inspecting carefully.

He seemed so quiet and unassuming – nothing like the normal wealthy douchebags Dean encountered. Maybe he got him wrong. Maybe he wasn’t so bad.

“Yes, I think she’ll like that one.”

Ah. So not a douchebag but definitely not single.

Dean sighed internally. That put an end to that before it even began.

Castiel dropped the ring back onto the surface and reached into his pocket for his wallet. Dean picked up the ring and carefully placed it inside the matching box. He was painfully aware that ring was worth more than he could earn in almost a year. Even if Castiel was single, Dean would never keep up with that amount of wealth.

He tried not to let the disappointment of Castiel’s impending engagement affect him – he was still just a stranger after all (a beautiful one at that his brain unhelpfully supplied). Dean plastered on his customer service smile.

“Would you like our complimentary cleaning cloth to help maintain its colour? We recommend cleaning it properly every week or so with this cloth as it is one of the older items in our collection.”

Castiel thought for barely a moment, “Sure.”

Gee, for a guy about to spend the rest of his life with the love of his life, he sure seemed uninterested in a pretty essential part of the process. This was just getting more and more depressing – and confusing.

Dean rushed to finish the transaction so he could get back to the normal status quo of the regular two types of customers and not a third who comes barreling in and turns his system upside down.

He finished the payment – Castiel barely flinched when Dean told him the price – and packed the ring carefully with the cleaning cloth into a gift bag.

“Thank you and I hope you and your soon-to-be fiancée have a wonderful life together.”

It pained Dean to say as he looked into Castiel’s eyes. Bobby should give him a raise just for the smile he was fighting to keep on his face.

As if Dean couldn’t take anymore, Castiel tilted his head and squinted his eyes making himself look adorable as hell.

“I’m not getting engaged.”

What?!

“What?”

“I’m not getting engaged.”

“B-but you just bought a really fucking expensive engagement ring!”

The confused part of Dean’s brain was overpowering the other part screaming ‘He’s not getting engaged – he might be single!’

“It’s for my mother.”

“Okay dude, you’re gonna have to walk me through this one. I mean, I love my mom but who drops that much on a ring for their mom?”

“My mother loves material things and good reputations – perhaps more than her own children. She has been rather angry with me for a few days so in order to ‘get back in her good books’ I needed to get the most expensive and oldest piece of jewellery I could. I see her tonight, hence why I was so flustered when I came in.”

Dean chose to ignore how adorable Castiel looked doing air quotes – his bran was about to explode.

“Ouch. What did you do to make her angry enough to need something as pricey as this?” Dean indicated to the bag he realised he was still holding out.

“My brother accidentally told her I’m gay.”

At this point, the other side of Dean’s brain finally took over.

DUDE HE’S NOT GETTING ENGAGED. HE’S PROBABLY SINGLE. AND HE’S INTO DUDES! ASK! HIM! OUT!

After a few prolonged seconds of Dean having an internal breakdown, Castiel started to look uneasy. Dean immediately recognised that uneasiness and managed to spit out a sentence that actually made sense.

“She’s angry at you for being gay? Sounds like a complete bitch to me.”

Dean realised what he’d said and instantly went to take it back but was stopped by the smirk on Castiel’s face.

“Oh don’t worry. She is. But as I said, she puts good reputations before her children and that means she’s paying for my law school. Well, what she thinks is law school.” There was that smirk again. Dean might just die. “I’m actually getting a degree in Education and Psychology. But I’ve got a year left so I need her to keep paying for my tuition. The day I graduate is the day I walk away from that family for good.”

Castiel held his head a little higher at that and Dean couldn’t help but admire the guy. Sucking up to a homophobic mom while tricking her into paying for the degree he wants? Frickin’ badass!

“Dude, I don’t know you from Adam, but, going on that ring alone, are you sure you could give up all that money?”

Castiel shrugged. “I’ve never been interested in it. I suppose that made me a bit of a black sheep. Add in the fact I’m gay, it pushed my mother over the edge. Hence the much too expensive ring.”

Wow. Was this guy for real?

Dean stood up from where he’d been leaning on the counter, listening with rapt attention. He put his hands in his pockets, looked down at a scratch in the counter top and looked up again slowly meeting Castiel’s eyes.

“So you’re not getting engaged?”

“Nope. Far from it, in fact.”

“You’re giving up the family money to live your own independent life?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re definitely into guys?”

Castiel smirked. “Yes. Very much so.”

“So… would you wanna go out some time? I promise it’ll probably be the cheapest date you’ve ever been on – I’m not exactly loaded myself.”

Dean avoided Castiel’s gaze, picking at the scratch on the counter.

A finger came out and lifted his chin, forcing him to meet Castiel’s eyes again.

“That sounds perfect. I’d love to go out with you but I do have one condition.”

Dean’s heart soared. He was starting to wonder where this guy had been all his life.

“Yeah?”

“Tell me your name.”

Dean threw his head back as a sharp, loud laugh burst through him.

The one day he forgot to wear his name tag. (He could hear Bobby’s ‘idjit’ ringing in his head.)

“It’s Dean.”

“Okay Dean, I’ll be out of town for a few days – to deliver the ring and reassure my mother that my brother was wrong, that her law school son is just looking for the right woman to settle down with.” Castiel rolled his eyes. “But when I get back I’d love to get burgers and see a movie or something?”

Dean’s smile could outshine the sun.

“Sounds awesome.”

* * *

A year later, they were all gathered in Dean’s garden celebrating Castiel’s graduation.

Since they met, Dean’s family had slowly started becoming Castiel’s too.

Now, Castiel was free from his biological family and was surrounded by his found family.

Dean was telling his Aunt Ellen the story of how they’d met but Castiel had zoned it out, focused only on looking at the beautiful man he got to call his.

“What a bitch!”

Castiel was drawn back into the conversation by Dean’s ‘cousin’ Jo’s outburst. Ah. They’re up to that point in the story.

Everyone in the group was looking at Castiel with sympathy and anger in their eyes.

Castiel shrugged.

“It’s fine. I used the family credit card to pay for the ring anyway. Plus I left with the most priceless item in that store anyway.”

The small crowd aww’d as Dean rolled his eyes and pulled Castiel in for a kiss.

This was my first fic since 2016 so please forgive if it’s a bit naff! I’m still re-finding my feet.

If you’d like to be tagged any of my future stuff just drop me a message and let me know. :)

#destiel #deancas #destiel fic #supernatural #myfic #fluff #misunderstandings #au #2k #jealous!dean #slightly

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diegolabhont · 4 years

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I didn't mean to fall in love with you

Chapter One

Book: Queen B - Choices (Universe)

Pairing: Poppy Min-Sinclair x Trans!Male MC (Beck Hughes)

Genre: None (in this post, al least)

Rating: Anyone can read it, really.

This is me trying to write by and for the Trans community, specially FTM community, meaning, trans guys, but I actually took the liberty to use They/them pronouns for everyone out there who´s interested (Also, the name Beck was the most neutral one I could find, trying to use the cannon Bea Hughes)

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Can someone explain to her how a person who claims to be so disinterested in the ranking was magically climbing to the top twenty?

Poppy didn’t buy it for a second, she always knew Beck were going to be a pain in her ass ever since the first time she saw them looking at her as if they weren’t impressed, but she wasn’t fully aware of how much.

“You don’t have to worry about them, Poppy” Chloe said while the strawberry blonde retouch her make up in the mirror inside her own room. “Beck is just a dude”

“Transphobia much, Chloe?” Veronica murmured playfully, wanting to start drama among her streaming fans.

“No! What I'm saying is… Beck's brain works as a regular dude, right? How much smart can they be?”

“Ha! That´s rich coming from you” Veronica laughed.

Both girls started a discussion about related shit, Beck’s brain, hormones and else while Poppy put on the mascara. Completely silent, thinking.

She treated Beck as a common enemy, she attacked them just like she would to any other lost lamb trying to be the wolf but it was not enough. Even one of those plans exploded in her own face: ruining and breaking Beck's guitar caused that they not only get a flashy and beautiful new one, but sang side by side with the one and only Jaylen Riaz, making a huge performance. Even better than hers, which was something painful and humiliating at the same time, especially after Veronica told her Beck’s YouTube channel had a followers increase, making them even more popular.

Chloe was right on something: Beck’s brain worked like a dude, and if she had learned something was that men in general were manipulable. Take a look at Michael, he was dumb as hell. Liam was a douchebag. Luis, Ford… well, they… they´re there. The only golden boy among them was Carter, and yet, he wasn´t that hard, she just gave him what he wanted in that party and after that, everything ran smoothly.

And that´s what she needed.

Poppy´s look changed, her eyes sparkled in a very malicious way and a smile crossed her face for a split second. She now had a plan, and unexpectedly, it was a Chloe attribution.

“Maybe if we accused them of cheating…?” Chloe suggested, but Poppy knew better.

“That won´t be necessary, Chlo” Poppy intervened for the first time in a while, making both girls look at her intrigued. They knew Poppy, and the little smile she had on her lips as she applied lipstick was a proof. The blonde was onto something juicy. Veronica ended the live and awaited. “Beck will be mine.”

~~X~~

It was kinda lame to her, but finding Beck completely alone under the football stands playing guitar was at least convenient. They were an eye candy from the start, that was a fact. The way that white t-shirt embraced their body was something else to see, her mind went back to the second time she saw them. The sassy rock star kind of look Beck had, even the haircut was perfect, Poppy knew that was a Zoey Wade signature and she kinda thanked her for it. Beck was damn fine, that fact made easier her plan to be honest.

“You know… You do pass pretty well as a man”

Beck stopped playing, literally frozen in place as a statue.

“What did you just say?” Their tone of voice was cold, almost insulted. Did she just get it wrong? No, she´s never wrong. A Queen can´t be wrong, especially a Min-Sinclair queen.

“It was a compliment, Farmsville” she said, rolling her eyes.

“That´s not a compliment” Beck chuckled, putting the guitar aside. “I mean, I don´t mind, but if you are going to use that to the trans community… It~ may not end well” Poppy frowned, a little pissed off. She was doing an effort, no-one had ever heard a compliment from her and this little sh… “But thanks.” Beck offered her a sweet smile a second before turn it into a mocking one. “You do pass pretty well as a woman, too”

“Go fuck yourself!”

“And now she gets it!” They started laughing, making her really angry. Poppy walked away fuming, her head up high and a killer look murdering anyone who dare crossing ways with her.

That stupid ASSHOLE. Did they THINK they could disrespect her?! To HER! She was the number ONE, the fucking RULER of the entire school. Beck was lucky enough to be in her radar and they just throw stupid shit like that!

“To be fair… I did say it first”

“I thought it was a COMPLIMENT” She fight against herself. “What am I? Some trans expert?!”

“No… But I can be. I mean, to destroy my enemy…”

“I have to know them...”

Even thought she was still mad about it, Poppy tapped wildly though her phone. She needed to do something, and she knew just the thing.

“It´s ON, jackass”

~~X~~

POV: Beck

Top fifteen. Everyone was losing their shit because they were now top twenty and Beck... Well... They just didn´t want it.

And yeah, sure, that was kinda good. The students in Belvoire had begun to pay attention to their music as well, Beck even caught a few of them listen to songs Beck wrote and some other cover as well. Their art was taking off and that was awesome, don't get it wrong, that was something Beck wanted for so long, but...

They were afraid.

What if it was because of the stupid ranking?

What if Beck just wasn´t that good, and the only thing people would want was that Beck who studded up against Poppy Min-Sinclaire and lived to tell? Even Zoey, she was talking about popularity, Belvoire elite, and some “Person to watch-out” or shit Award which yes, was huge! But… Beck really was afraid that it was Beck who puts the music high and not backwards.

What if…

What if Poppy really messes all up?

“You know… You do pass pretty well as a man”

Poppy´s words in their mind caught Beck off guard. What was her deal anyway? She came and said some weird shit, and...

Actually, everything in that interaction was weird as fuck. And not just that, Beck meet Taylor by accident later that day in the ice cream shop, they both talked a little and they found out she had a big crush onto some random guy Beck didn´t knew before.

Of course Beck was the matchmaker! They even helped her by carrying those stupid anti-diarrheic pills to the lion´s den. Ok, yes, maybe~ Beck should´ve had given them to someone and not just let them in the front door… But it wasn´t their fault that The T found out!! Poppy was losing it, and of course it was them to blame.

Why can´t they just have a normal life… with normal problems… and not… this?

“I´m dead… I´m actually dead…” Beck thought while burying their head on their hands, tired.

“Beck? Hello? I assume you heard the details of the assignment.”

“What?”

“Ehm… Yeah! Totally” Beck said with a “confident” smile that nobody believed in, Professor Roberta even frowned before going back to the lecture, while Beck tried uselessly to catch something about the assignment from their classmates´ laptops. She hated Beck anyway, but it wasn´t good news to be always in her bad side.

“Shit! Shit! Shit! … What did she say?”

“Mass comm is all about reaching people far and wide, so this project is meant to give the voiceless in our own community a voice by…”

A penetrant gaze nailed their nape, giving them chills. Beck immediately looked for that one hawk over them and not to their surprise the person found on the other side was that deadly beauty called Poppy Min-Sinclair, watching Beck as they´re a prey. Feeling really drove up the wall, Beck winked playfully at her, expecting her to look away or some rude expression towards them.

But no.

Scaring the shit out of them, Poppy actually smiled back at Beck. A sweet, flirty smile that left them feeling their heart racing as crazy and their cheeks burning red, her dark eyes so into theirs that all their system collapsed... What was happening?

“Earth to Beck!”

Professor Roberta yelled, making Beck jump a little in their sit, breaking all eye contact between them both. When did Beck turn their body completely to watch Poppy? Of course the professor was mad, Beck was practically giving her their back! As faster as they could, Beck took the right seat, being even more embarrassed now while Poppy let go a chuckle, they could hear her from any other laughter just as clearly as if she were so close.

“Oh, sorry. I… Sorry”

“Find your community service project partner please” Professor said. Beck gathered their things and head into the aisle, looking around, praying to find someone whiling to work with them and, mainly, explain to them what was that project about. The thing was everyone had already a partner. Everyone except for…

The strawberry blonde was gazing Beck as sure as someone who´s waiting for this chance can be. Smiling that same smile that caused them to feel butterflies in their stomach… Beck wasn´t sure if they were aroused… or scared.

“Professor Roberta… I need a new partner” Beck practically begged. “I´m sorry. I just can´t work with Poppy.”

The pretty but odd teacher was about to say something. Something bad based on the expression on her face, but a perfect made-up laughter cut her words, as Beck was feeling how a soft and warm hand hooked to their arm.

“Nonsense, professor! I am pretty sure we´ll be working just fine.” Poppy said, a relaxed expression drawn on her porcelain face. “Let´s go, Hughes.”

Ok, Beck was now scared. As both of them walked out the classroom, Beck´s brain was running wild, thinking about every and each form Poppy could use to disappear them from the face of the earth. Ironic, Beck survived Farmsville but they´ll be totally done in New York. Ha! Life hates them.

“Listen, I know what you are thinking…”

Really?

“... but the last thing I need right now is having my GPA taken away. So I´ve already figured it all out. We´re doing an animal shelter commercial for our project. I can ask daddy to borrow the equipment and crew”

“Didn´t think of you as a daddy person” Beck laughed, a little more repose.

“Shut the fuck up, Farmsville. This will be easy, so all I need you to do is… Oh my god.”

Poppy stared at her phone completely in shock, color draining from her face as it was sucked by a dementor.

“I have to go. We can figure out the deets later, I´ll text you where to meet me”

Then, she just left. Beck took a deep breath and let out a hiss.

“Gosh, this school is going to kill me!”

They said, who would have thought a class could be so much?

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#queen b choices #choices #trans #ftm #poppy x mc #malemc #poppy min sinclair #bea hughes #Beck Hughes #choices stories you play #choices poppy #choices queen b mc #mc x poppy

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despisydraws · 4 years

Text

Okay, so this went from headcanons to a one-shot draft real fast and I'm 100% not sorry to fill your entire timeline with trans Courfeyrac's first meeting with the Amis and his coming-out story

Enjoy this mess of a bullet point half-oneshot that has somehow gotten the length of 1,7k words, with no beta because we die like men

-It took Courf quite a long time to figure out what it was that made him so uncomfortable with himself and even once he came to conclusion he just tried to repress it

-He used to dress in extremely feminine clothes (mostly out of fear that nobody would want him anymore otherwise)

-Yep, right, he was super scared of being alone in the world and he constantly needed the assurance that he was needed

-He had a bunch of super shitty boyfriends who treated him like dirt and only wanted him as a status symbol, to have 'a hotter girlfriend than the others'

-He was so tired of being cheated on and used, but he felt so alone and helpless that he tried to hold on to every. single. one. of those douchebags

-That made them even greater assholes, of course, like a confidence boost (disgusting)

-He got rid of them only by them getting rid of him, what happened after a fairly short time (because 'He was just so clingy' and 'they never wanted a long-term relationship they just wanted some fun') (I repeat: disgusting)

-After an especially bad breakup, which he reasoned by himself not behaving enough as the girl he should be ('shitty-ex also said that, so it's true, right?'), his almost frantic femininity got even worse

-That was the phase in which he met Combeferre

-Courf was sitting in the corner of a very empty cafe, staring into his cup without drinking

-Ferre has to deal with the Amis, so he's kind of a hobby-therapist, he came over immediately and asked to sit with him

-He just sensed that something was off about 'the girl who constantly shoves her beautiful long curls back as if they were tiny snakes trying to bite her, who kneads the hem of her short dress nervously, trying not to let anyone see, who shifts her feet in her heels as if she stood on needles' - it reminded him of Enjolras, but in less furious and more hurt

-They chat a little and Ferre gets him to attend one of the amis' meetings

-They go there together, there is a mirror in the corridor of the cafe next to the coat rack, where Courf stops dead and just gazes at what has become of him

-Ferre just tries to calm him by saying 'don't worry, you look wonderful.' And Courf immediately clenches his jaw, because 'oh, great, another one of those guys...'

-Anyway they attend the meeting and Courf is absolutely in awe over Enjolras, about his strength and confidence, generally just his aura which is almost visible to him, red and burning

-Feuilly, who is a hobby-hairdresser and cuts cuts the hair of all of the Amis for free, takes one look at him and immediately goes "wooow, I'd love to cut your hair, can I cut it? Look at all those cool and sexy hairstyles over here *gestures to Bahorel* and here *gestures to Joly who grins and waves at him*, okay, over here I messed up *gestures to Bossuet, who notices Courfs mortified expression and goes 'no, don't worry, I'm naturally bald he's just joking!'* and Feuilly laughs and goes on with his rambling" but Courf is like 'no way, you're not gonna touch my hair, wtf?' And he avoids Feuilly because he has a vague feeling that the redhead is a huge creep...

-Enjolras takes one look at Courf and then turns to Ferre with a raised eyebrow

-They have something like a telepathic discussion about Courf, Ferre desperately wants to keep him because he just feels that it's right but Enjolras can't stand him because his behavior seems so fake (he can't get behind it yet, he tends to judge people immediately, like an instinct, and he really doesn't want a 'little prom queen Ferre wants to go off with' in his activist group. He should really know Ferre a little better than that, given the fact that they grew up together, and know that he's got his reasons, but Enj had a very bad day so he goes with whatever his mind tells him)

-Courf gets along quite alright with the others, especially with Bahorel, Grantaire and Jehan (even though he thinks they're a little weird) and 'that Joly is cute I guess'

-After the meeting they all get ready to go home and most of them have left already, Jehan suddenly comes up to him and hugs him deeply, saying how much they wish for Courf to stay with the group

How? How could anyone resist that?

-So Courf comes back a few times and when they plan to go on vacation with the group to strengthen the team spirit and mayyybe just have a chill weekend for once Courf is already included in the plans without them even asking him

-They go by train to a summer cottage Jehans parents own at the coast of Spain, right at the beach

-Courf shares a room with Grantaire and Joly and Bossuet, Enj and Ferre share a smaller room and Jehan sleeps with Feuilly and Bahorel on a huge extendible couch

-Let's say this is at a point where Courf has already gotten so much queer influence from this group that he is just confused and absolutely can't tell anymore who he is, because, apparently it's okay to not feel the same way your body lookw?? But that's colliding with everything he learned from the shitty douchebag boyfriends and his clique he had a few years ago????

-His mind is absolutely overwhelmed and he doesn't know what to do anymore, the assumption he had about himself is proving true at an alarming speed and he can't repress it anymore.

-Even though his is with such an open minded group now, he still fears to be cast out once he opens up

-He fears that they would think he was shamming himself again to fit in more ('I presented myself so different when he first met them, it would be strange, right? It would seem like a lie if I told them!')

-He sleeps less and cries a lot, this holiday should have been relieving but it has become the horror to him

-Everytime he sees Joly and Bossuet kissing, everytime Enjolras lifts his shirt in the heat, showing his scars and Grantaires' longing gazes, he excuses himself. He sits in the bathroom quietly, staring at the wall, until a person comes along who has to use it

-One night he can't take it anymore

-There's Grantaire and Bossuet snoring to both sides of him and Joly shifting in his boyfriend's arms the entire time, sometimes pressing a pillow on his face to stop the noise

-There is too much sound, too much movement around him so the thoughts that need to be thought, if not at daytime, then at least at night, get even louder

-He stands up with his blanket underneath one arm and quietly leaves the room into the dark hallway. His knees are shaking and all he wishes for is to break down on the floor but his body just can't pass that point of desperation, so he stumbles around until his hands find the next doorhandle and pushes it

-There is a muffled voice, saying "Don't even try it, Jehan, I hid your notebook. Go to sleep, write that thought down tomorrow..."

-When there is no reaction a bedside lamp is switched on, revealing Combeferres sleepy face

- "Ferre, turn the goddamn light on one more time and I'll kill you" Enjolras grunts from the other bed, turning his back to the room

-Combeferre just quietly signs for Courfeyrac to lay down next to him after he took one look at his face and he does (Ferre is after all still the one he trusts most)

-He crawls underneath Ferres blanket and buries his face against the latter one's chest and then everything just starts streaming out of him, all of his thoughts, all of his feelings, he just talks about everything for the first time

-As he ends there is silence and Combeferre places a kiss on his head when he starts to cry again

-Enjolras just quietly apologizes for being rude to him all the times before and stands up, moving over to the two of them

-He starts to tell Courfeyrac the story of his own coming out, how he got kicked out by his parents and had to move out of the city and live with Combeferre and something about the story calms him down

-He falls asleep sandwiched between Ferre and Enj after they had to promise to not tell anyone about it yet

-The next night he feels better but he is still restless

-He's up again, quietly shifting to the living room where he shakes Feuilly awake

C:"Can you help me with something?"

F:"Sure, what is it?"

C:"Cut my hair..."

-Feuilly is out and about in an instant and soon there is light in the kitchen, Courf is sitting on a stool they found in a small storeroom and Feuilly comes in with a grin and a pair of scissors

-The next morning the others almost don't recognize him anymore, if not because of his looks then because of his aura. He is genuinely happy for the first time in what feels like an eternity

-Even Enj is grinning when he sees him and stands up from the table where they are eating breakfast, putting an arm around his shoulders

"Listen here my boy, you don't know what danger you just put yourself in. Look at them, they're all gay and ready to eat you alive"

-The entire table bursts in chaos, Joly spits out his juice, Bahorel is screaming from the top of his lungs, Grantaire is muttering "I'm so in love, I'm so in love, I'm so in love" over and over again and Bossuet jumps up from his chair so suddenly it falls over "Enjolras made a joke?! Enjolras is funny?! My life is a lie!"

-Courfeyrac just laughs with them, glad that Enjolras saved him from all the awkward questions for now

-He sits down next to Combeferre and shoots him a small look

"Are you also, you know... gay and ready to eat me alive?" He chuckles and Combeferre turns his head into his direction with an amused smile "Eating you would be a little harsh, don't you think? But I admit, I have been thinking of eating with you this evening" "Are you... asking me out?" "What else could I have intended with that?"

And they all live happily ever after, finish, yaaay

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starkerparkerpony · 4 years

Text

AU where Tony (44-45 y/o) meets an aged up (23-24 y/o) Peter after Civil War, Tony is broken up with Pepper and all kinds of sorry for himself. Peter is a ESU graduate and currently has an internship with Oscorp and is a photographer for the Daily Bugle he is also spiderman and therefore perpetually exhausted and has very little patience.

(It's been a while since I wrote something, please consider reblogging)

I scold because I stan

Tony was starting to get sick of himself.

The self hatred and self pity were starting to crescendo, which was shedding a lot of light on how he got to and where Tony currently was in his life.

Spangle's betrayal shouldn't have hurt as much as it did.

The breakup with Pepper shouldn't have been as painful as it was.

He shouldn't miss the team as much as he did.

Vision injuring Rhodey shouldn't have felt like a personal failure but it did.

Speaking of personal failures, the accords shouldn't have scattered more than half of the planet's protectors in the wind all while labeling them 'war criminals' but they had.

And Tony was sick of himself because his centrally heated penthouse shouldn't be haunted by a Serbian cold but it was.

Because his heartbeat shouldn't feel like someone trying to jackhammer the arc reactor into his sternum sometimes... but it did.

So he decided to go out because his inner 'self hatred' voice was starting to sound too much like his father and that was about the last straw for Tony.

A baseball cap, coat and muffler later, Tony Stark was roaming the streets of New York but then it was too fucking cold for that so he quickly ducked into a cozy looking Irish pub.

He quickly scanned the place for a place to sit, it was pretty packed except for a booth which was occupied by one person who had their head down on the table and appeared to be, best case scenario, dozing off or worst case scenario, passed out.

Appropriate company for the kind of evening he was having he thought to himself as he made his way to the booth.

A waiter came to take his order and Tony took it upon himself to order a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. If he was gonna get hammered in a public place against all good sense then atleast he was gonna do it with some company... even if said company was seemingly unconscious.

When the waiter put down the glasses, his boothmate woke up. And Tony was confronted with a gorgeous guy with stunning brown eyes, he was sporting a rather sizable shiner over his left one but it did absolutely nothing to detract from his attractiveness.

"Jesus Christ... are you actually Tony Stark? Or am I hallucinating?" The guy asked quietly.

"I was hoping you wouldn't recognize me." Tony wrinkled his nose as he admitted.

"That's either a scathing comment on your perception of the general public's intellect or humility which absolutely does not go with the reputation that precedes you," the guy scoffed.

Huh... he's sharp and quick Tony thought.

"A little bit of both. The hat usually, miraculously works." Tony explained

"Don't judge me but I've had an entire wall dedicated to your face ever since your first Rolling Stone cover... the hat wasn't gonna work on me."

"That's a lot to unpack from a stranger"

"I'm Peter Parker."

"You know who I am."

Peter's face split into an overjoyed smile when Tony said that. It was a ridiculous 'only in New York' kinda thing to find yourself in the same booth as Iron Man in your local pub and Peter really needed this after the day he'd had. He was still completely terrified that at any moment Tony would accuse him of being Spiderman and make him sign the accords but he was also gonna let himself relax and enjoy meeting his hero a little.

"I'm not a billionaire expert but shouldn't you be drinking at a much upper scale place than this?" As amazed as he was, Peter was also perplexed by Tony's presence in the pub.

"There's a lot about me that absolutely does not go with the reputation that precedes me. You just admitted to me that you have a wall dedicated to my face and then brushed past it like it was nothing..." Tony said, incredulous.

"You're pretty, you're an amazing scientist, you build robots and are a superhero because of a badass armour you made that can fly. I'm a nerd and bisexual, it's is nothing, just nature basically," Peter waved him off as he started to pour the whiskey for them.

Surprisingly enough Tony's cheeks were a little flushed by the time Peter looked up, which made him think that maybe there isn't much accurate about the reputation that precedes Tony Stark.

"Hmm... who did that to your face?" Tony asked about the shiner Peter was sporting.

"Umm... a girl was getting mugged, I tried to play hero, you should see the other guy as the saying goes" Peter shrugged.

"Wow good for you... could've ended badly though." Tony's chest was unexpectedly and rather worryingly tight hearing about the danger Peter had been in.

"I know... I lost a loved one to a mugging gone wrong but the girl needed help, I didn't really have a choice."

It was like hearing those words was the straw that broke the camel's back for Tony. Because he completely understood what Peter meant. Tony never really felt like he had a choice either and whether or not Peter was ready to have a lot of information about the Avengers and his 'face wall' buddy Iron Man's wretched life choices, he was gonna be vented at like there was no tomorrow. Because Stark men don't go to therapy, they drink and speak very fast at unsuspecting civilians.

So Tony talked and Peter listened, about how the star spangled man with a plan is a fucking douchebag, how fucking hurt he felt that Nat, Clint and Wanda would still choose him over Tony, how he hasn't been able to look Rhodey in the eye since Germany and probably never will be, how easily things fell apart with Pepper even after he tried so hard, how the winter soldier fucking killed his mom and fucking spangles hid it from him, how he probably deserved it because that poor kid that got killed in Sokovia because of him... and as Tony talked he also drank so he was feeling pretty buzzed by the time he was done talking thankfully Peter was drinking right along with him.

It wasn't really a conversation, rather Iron Man just venting to him... he did notice a pattern though, everything Tony complained about, he tied up the line of thought with ultimately blaming himself for it.

Peter had always felt a certain kinship with the guy... but this man telling him how helpless his power had made him to the massive responsibility that came along with it, hit too close to home.

"Are you always this self loathe-y or is this just a today thing?" Peter asked when Tony stopped talking

"What? I don't... what?"

"Buddy... Captain America, if he really did to you what you say he did... then who gives a shit? He's an asshole. And I'm not even a supporter of the accords but even I think that the Rogues could have handled it in a better way...

No seriously, there's way more enhanced folks in this country than just the Avengers, some of them are minors, there's a dude in Hells Kitchen who is gonna sue the government and the UN so that the registration thing is scrapped, Charles Xavier and his team are even collaborating on the lawsuit.

Those people could have really used Captain America with them on this but he was too busy playing Rambo and violating other countries' sovereignty and beating the living shit out of Iron Man apparently.

I mean for a genius, you're a dumbass because you let the people who once tried to nuke Manhattan convince you that you're more dangerous than they are but you had 'dead-kid-in-Sokovia' guilt. So I get it but c'mon cut yourself some slack."

Tony was a bit flabbergasted by the kid's performance.

"Of course you'd say it... you stick my pictures on your wall," Tony grumbled

"Oh hell no! You will not use my stan status against me. I know exactly how problematic my fav is. I know your family made their fortune selling weapons and not just to the US Military and I know you only gave a crap about the under the table dealing with terrorists when they threatened your life but I'm sorry Mr. Stark if you deny yourself the credit for learning from your mistakes then every human everywhere is going straight to hell.

Intellicrops prevented famines... the arc reactor technology is saving the planet from global warming...

I saw that video of Helena Cho with those acid attack victims in India and openly weeped in a Starbucks...

You really did privatize world peace... there's a reason the biggest threat to us now is "evil aliens" you know... cause' what the fuck chance does ISIS have against War Machine? Even that Mandarin thing turned out to be a hoax.

I have 3 patents because of my Maria Stark Foundation grant and I didn't even get the MIT-full funding ones... one day one of those kids is going to cure cancer and it's going to be because of you.

So of course I'll defend you man... but you don't seem to realize that any decent person would." Peter was pretty pleased with himself after that and shot Tony an eyebrow raise as if daring him to disagree.

"I got nothing."

"Of course you don't." Peter grinned.

Maybe Tony had just isolated himself too much from people who didn't consider him a complete and utter asshole.

But with Peter it didn't even feel like praise... it was like the guy was scolding him for being too mean to himself.

It felt nice nonetheless.

Before Tony had even recovered from Peter's glorious rant, the younger guy handed him a business card with the words "Daily Bugle" embossed on it.

"Don't hold my gossip rag workplace against me... it's easy money and I'm only doing it till Norman Osbourne starts paying me for the work I already do for him." Peter shrugged

"You're with Oscorp? What do you do? Why not SI?" If he had scored an internship with Oscorp and a grant from his own foundation then he must be good enough for SI.

"I'm R&D chemical engineering and I'm not at SI because your recruiters are assholes who demand 3 years experience for a beginner position..." said Peter matter of factly.

"You should apply with us again." Tony insisted, the guy had 3 patents and very sharp, after tonight the least Tony could do was get him a job.

"You should call me." Peter countered

"I- wait are you hitting on me?" And much to Tony's chagrin, he found himself blushing again.

"Yeah duh Mr. Stark."

"I'm old enough to be your father." Tony sputtered and that hurt to admit.

"And I have insane daddy issues- you'll love me. I'm not even gonna ask you for a selfie... you don't look your best right now but definitely call me." Peter winked as he started to leave.

"You're fucking negging me?!" said Tony looking up at the ballsy kid as he slid out of the booth.

"Hey you miss 100% of the shots you don't take. Gandhi said that." The kid called over his shoulder as he walked away.

"Gandhi absolutely did not say that Peter." Tony yelled back.

God he was gonna call the guy.

Read part 2 here, part 3 here

#starker #starker fic #tony stark #tony stark x peter parker #Peter Parker #precious Tony #badass Peter #spideriron #iron spider #i scold because i stan #starker au #aged up peter parker

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spartanguard · 5 years

Text

sick of love (1/3)

Summary: If Emma’s not careful, she just might bump into her soulmate. Physically. And while she might like the idea of what comes with that—an almost psychic connection whenever they make skin contact—she’d rather not deal with the awful withdrawal sickness that can come when they inevitably leave her; she’s got a son, so she doesn’t have time for that. So she keeps herself covered and thinks she’ll be okay. Until she meets Killian, who does the same thing. Will their barriers protect them, or just hurt them more?

A/N: This story was inspired by a tumblr post imagining a different kind of soulmate AU; I got inspired and ran with the idea. (original post can be found here.) Thank you to the organizers of @cssns for putting on this great event again!! Also to @sherlockianwhovian for making the INCREDIBLE art that goes with this! (and to @optomisticgirl for looking it over!)

The train slipped into the station, coming to an easy stop at the platform where Emma waited. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the glass window as the door opened in front of her, and adjusted her hair accordingly, making sure her long blonde tresses hung over her shoulders and framed her face just so—but not so much that she was completely covered; she wasn’t Cousin Itt.

People began to stream out of the car, moving on either side of where Emma stood, not unlike water flowing around a rock in a river. She held her breath in an attempt to make herself smaller, in hopes that would make it harder for anyone to bump into her. There was a slight jostle to her leather-covered elbow, but thankfully, that was all. Soon, the last tourist had left the car, on their way to whatever pretentious bar was in this particular Boston neighborhood; Emma didn’t know and didn’t care, and was headed the opposite direction—her suburban apartment after a long day of fruitless work.

Emma shuffled onto the train and slumped into a seat, pulling her jacket just a bit tighter around her as she tried her best to melt into the hard molded plastic. The more she could hide or shrink, the better; the train was always packed this time of day, making it all too easy to get bumped or shoved into the next person, so the fact that she’d gotten a seat was perfect—even better, it was on the end, so there was only one seat next to her. Because if there was one thing Emma Swan hated, it was being touched.

Actually, that was a lie—she had loved it, once upon a time. But God, she’d been so naive.

The train quickly filled up. Emma tensed when someone sat next to her, but the suited businessman seemed more interested in his phone, and just as keen not to touch her. Even in a society that placed a high value on physical contact, there were still those who shied away from it, at least with strangers. Emma, though, did her best to keep away from everyone.

If her phone had more than 10% battery, she’d have her nose buried in it like half the other people on the train. Like her neighbor apparently knew, that was also a good way to ward off any unwanted contact. But given it’s mostly-dead status, and a desire to leave that little bit there in case Henry called, she’d have to content herself with people watching; hell, maybe she’d find the skip who’d gotten away from her earlier.

It was mostly people heading home from work, likely about to enjoy the balmy early summer evening on balconies or patios; if they threw a glance her way, they’d probably think the way she was dressed for late fall was insane—not many people wore turtlenecked sweaters, jeans, and knee-high boots in July, even in Boston. She’d gotten used to the self-imposed swelter by now, though.

But no one had eyes for her, thankfully, least of all the couple standing in front of her. They stood side by side, one hand each on the overhead rail and the other holding their partner’s. They had soft, happy grins on their faces and it almost looked as though they were having a conversation with just their eyes—and they most likely were. Because that was what happened when you found your soulmate.

She shivered involuntarily, despite the heat and her unseasonable dress. Gah, she hated that word: soulmate. Because, of course, the universe had picked that one perfect person for everyone. You didn’t have any choice in the matter; that’s just how it was. Great if you find them; sucks if you don’t—and even worse if you lose them.

As a kid, it had been a pipe dream for a touch-starved orphan like Emma had been. Everyone grew up knowing the stories: that when you found your soulmate, physical touch created an almost psychic connection with them. Thoughts, feelings, even dreams could be shared through skin, and it only got more intense the longer the relationship lasted.

And she thought she’d had that, once. Now? She’d sworn it off; there were more important things to worry about.

She blinked her eyes and looked away from the couple, lest she get too far down Memory Lane to turn back. She focused on the view of the city flying by outside the windows, the familiar landmarks telling her she was close to her stop. Each building was one tick in the countdown until she could get off and head home, where central AC, her son, and an ice cold beer were waiting.

Finally, the train slowed down and came to a creaking stop at her station. She waited a bit for more people to exit the car, including the annoyingly adorable couple (something she was all too familiar with in her own life), and headed back out into the temperate air.

And then she saw her skip, in the mass of people heading out of the station. Guess home would have to wait; good thing she saved her phone battery.

She took off at a sprint, waiting to shout the douchebag’s name until he had no time to react before she was on top of him, bringing him to the ground and pinning him there without an ounce of skin contact. If this asshole was her soulmate, she didn’t want to know.

(Or to know if anyone was anymore.)

A few hours later, she finally slumped into her apartment and sighed in the blessedly cold air. Then she sniffed; was that pizza?

“I ordered from Regina Pizzeria; hope you didn’t mind,” Henry shouted from the kitchen.

“Did you tip?” she asked, tugging on the zippers of her boots and stepping out of them.

“Of course; I’m not an animal.”

She snorted; he’d definitely inherited her sense of humor. “Good.” Her stomach was growling, but she needed to at least get out of her jacket before she did anything about it. It clung to her in an unpleasant manner as she peeled it off, the sleeves turning inside out as they clung to her clammy skin; she just hung it up that way, letting the sweaty lining air out.

Henry already had plates set out at their kitchen island-slash-dining table. “Thanks, kid,” she said as she walked past him to the fridge, pausing to ruffle his dark brown hair. “And sorry again.”

“It happens,” he said with a shrug. She winced at that, despite the chilled air blowing from the fridge as she grabbed her beer; she hated that he was so used to her inconsistent work hours, but was so proud of him for being self-reliant. She still wasn’t sure how she’d been blessed with such a fantastic kid, but that was why she did what she did—not just her job, but protecting herself. She couldn’t make sure Henry grew up safe and loved if she was too caught up in her own shit.

“Is your homework done?” she asked as she took a seat on what had become designated as her bar chair at the counter.

“Yup,” he answered, opening the box; plain pepperoni—their favorite.

“Show me after we eat.”

“I know,” he groaned, rolling his eyes a bit, and grabbed a slice. Every now and then, there were moments like that where Emma was reminded that her 11-year-old was growing up fast. But for the most part, he was still her little boy: smart, funny, and with the biggest heart she’d ever met. She wished his dad could see him.

Like they did every night, they talked about their days, but mostly Henry’s—she loved to hear about what he was learning and the things he did with his friends. No one had ever taken interest in her life, academic or otherwise, until she wound up with the Nolans, and she vowed a long time ago to make sure Henry always had an attentive parent.

“Avery had to go home at lunch; he got sick. It was gross, like you could see his—“

“Ugh, no—not while I’m eating!” (Lest she forget, Henry was definitely an 11-year-old boy.)

Henry sighed but plowed on. “Anyways, they sent him home and said he probably had a stomach bug, but he thinks it’s something else. He thinks he has lovesickness.”

Emma froze for a second, but not too long in case Henry noticed. He knew she had issues with soulmates and she tried her hardest not to pass them onto him. But lovesickness—that was something of a trigger word.

See, that was the other side to having a soulmate: if you went too long without physical contact with them, you got sick. Not just heartsick or lonely—physically ill. After a few weeks without touching your supposed true love, you started to develop flu-like symptoms that progressively got worse—the point of near immobility—until either you came back in contact with them or cycled all the way through it, your body mended but your soul a bit bruised.

It wasn’t uncommon to see notices in the “missed connections” section of Craigslist for people experiencing symptoms after a rare brush with their intended. Morbidly, it was also typical for old couples to follow each other in death, not being able to survive through the lovesickness that accompanied the loss of their soulmate after decades together.

She was pretty sure she’d been through it. Most people were confident in that distinction, but Emma still didn’t know, because lovesickness looked and felt an awful lot like morning sickness.

For the upteenth time that day, Emma shook her head, trying to clear away the ghosts of the past. “He doesn’t have it; you guys are too young.” The one perk to this whole cosmic system was that it couldn’t happen until after puberty.

“I dunno; he was pretty confident about it. Said he kissed Violet on the playground last week so he’s probably taken.”

Emma chuckled. “It doesn’t happen that fast. He’ll be fine. But maybe watch what you eat at school, okay?”

“Okay. Can I bring pizza tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

The rest of their nightly routine went per usual: Emma looking over his homework, forcing him to take a shower before she took one too, then watching an episode of Stranger Things before he went to bed.

Maybe he was getting too old for it, but she still tucked him each night. “Love you, Mom,” he murmured, already half asleep.

“Love you, too, kid,” she replied, placing a kiss on his forehead. Even if she shied away from that stuff herself, she never wanted Henry to miss out on those little endearments she never had.

She took one last look at him before leaving his room. He was getting so big, and looking more and more like his dad every day; but when he was asleep, he still looked like the baby she’d once rocked in her arms.

So that was why she protected herself. That was why she cut off physical contact as much as possible with anyone else. That was why she didn’t want to risk her heart like that again. Sure, she craved that kind of intimacy sometimes, but she’d made her peace that it a while ago. No lovers, no soulmates, just a few friends. Nothing that could potentially take her away from being the best mom Henry could have.

At least, that’s what she’d been telling herself for 11 years. She didn’t want to believe anything else, even though she was keenly aware of the heartbreak that lay under everything.

She retired to her room and flopped down on her big, empty bed, falling asleep eventually.

And if she dreamed that there was someone to share that bed with...well, she’d talk it up to her brain being weird.

She didn’t do soulmates.

*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*

“Seriously?”

“Oh, come on, Emma; it’ll be fine. You can play nice for one night.”

Emma sighed into the phone. Her sister-in-law, Snow—the living, breathing embodiment of peace, hope, and love—had a long track record of trying to surreptitiously shove eligible singletons Emma’s way. She was understanding about Emma’s avoidance of relationships and physical contact, and the need to put Henry first, but only to a point. By no means did she think that romantic love was the key to true happiness, but she herself had found her fairytale true love and its accompanying bliss; shouldn’t everyone experience that?

“Debatable.” And apparently, Emma would be subject to Snow’s fledgling matchmaking yet again at their weekly dinner. “What’s this guy’s deal?”

“Oh, you know how David picks up strays.” They shared a giggle at that; it was true—not only did David work at an animal shelter, but he had a tendency to pick up wayward humans as well, Emma being a prime example. She was 15 when the Nolans legally adopted her. “But Killian is—well, he’s like you.”

Both Emma’s curiosity and hackles rose. “What does that mean?”

“It means he’s not looking for a soulmate, either. So it’s not a setup or anything.”

“Uh-huh.” She’d heard that one before.

“It’s not!”

“Why do I feel like this is some sort of reverse psychology thing?”

There was a pause. “Was it really that obvious?”

Emma sighed again, chuckling slightly. “You know I know when you’re lying.”

“I know, I know. But you’re still coming, right?”

“Yes, of course.” One random guy wasn’t enough to put Emma off their tradition. Her only other option would be to sit at home by herself on a Friday while Henry was at a sleepover, and she wasn’t that lame, even if she was a 28-year-old single mother who hadn’t really socialized in over 11 years.

“Okay, good. See you and your wine in a few hours! Bye!”

Maybe someday, Emma would be able to soak up some of the effervescent optimism that her sister-in-law constantly bubbled. But today wasn’t that day.

Because now Emma had to pick a new outfit, and she was unusually annoyed. Given the muggy heat, she was going to let herself wear shorts and a tank top; David and Snow were the only people, outside of Henry, that Emma could let her guard down around, physically or otherwise. People only had one soulmate so there was no risk at contact there when David and Snow were each other’s, and even less so with David being her brother, even if not biologically; the universe may be a dick sometimes but at least it wasn’t gross.

But if someone else was going to be there, she’d have to wrap back up. These were the moments she wondered if it was worth it, keeping herself protected—if she died of heatstroke, it wouldn’t matter either way. And maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have normal human interactions with people, and it might not be so bad to go on a date or two—some kind of adult activity. David and Snow were proof that it wasn’t all bad, even if it was sickly sweet sometimes; she had more than a few moments of jealousy ever since they met, way back in high school.

But then the past would rear its head and she’d remember why she put herself through this. No, she was better off without.

She sighed and sadly pulled off the cute sleeveless blouse she was wearing. She didn’t usually do wear something so girly and was kind of looking forward to it. Although...the red flowers in it did match her jacket...

Giving it a shot, she tugged on a long-sleeved shirt, then slipped the blouse back on. The layered look was still a thing, right? And the blue background on the blouse matched her jeggings. It worked. She paused a bit to admire her reflection, then started to head out, grabbing her jacket and the wine from the kitchen before slipping on her gloves and heading out.

The AC in her old yellow Bug was cranked all the way up as she made the 20-minute trip to her brother’s house, tucked away in one of the nicer, if small, neighborhoods. She pulled into the driveway of their little bungalow and immediately groaned when she saw the car already parked there: an unfamiliar old Chevy muscle car that screamed “douchebag”.

Her mind’s eye was already conjuring the image of some alpha male gym rat, or worse, some preppy rich kid who was a third cousin of the Kennedys and made sure you knew it. She started bracing herself for a less-than-enjoyable evening in the mad dash between her car and the front door, lest she melt before getting inside.

But there was no one in the front room when she let herself in. “Hello?” she called out, carefully making her way through the house; crap, what if this guy had killed them or something? Thank goodness Henry wasn’t here. She started glancing around for blunt objects to use as weapons, until she remembered she had a full bottle of wine in hand; it’d be a waste of booze, but it’d do the job.

“Out here!” came Snow’s voice through the door to the back yard. Emma relaxed a little, knowing they were alive, but still didn’t let her guard down; that wasn’t something she did easily.

Although, looking back, maybe if she had relaxed a little, she wouldn’t have been so tense and focused on her family’s well-being that she skipped the last step down to the patio, making her lose her footing, drop the wine, and fall—into unfamiliar arms.

Her hair fell over her face in a curtain, both protecting her from and blinding her to whoever had caught her. But the jacket she could feel under her gloves wasn’t something David would wear this time of year, and those definitely weren’t her brother’s boots or skinny jeans.

“Woah there, lass—you alright?”

And that really wasn’t David’s English accent.

Instinctively, she let go of his (admittedly firm) biceps and fell backwards, definitely sticking her hand in the shattered glass of the bottle—she could feel it cut through her glove to her palm—but putting a good amount of distance between her and this Killian guy.

She hissed at the cut, and quickly brushed her hair aside with the other hand to inspect the damage. The glove was wrecked, but she couldn’t tell what of the red stuff on her hand was blood and what was wine.

Shade fell on her as David and Snow hovered, but the stranger was the only one who intervened. “Let me see,” he said, and rached for her forearm.

“It’s fine,” Emma tossed back, more out of habit than anything. It certainly stung, but her biggest worry was that she’d have an uncovered hand.

“Your hand is cut. Let me see,” the man demanded, his tone just commanding enough to jolt her. Who the hell did he think he was?

Before she could protest again, he grabbed her wrist and tugged it toward him—with another gloved hand. That was...unexpected. She finally dared to look at him, but all she could see was a mess of dark hair and a strong nose as he inspected her palm.

“It’s not that deep, thankfully,” he assessed, and even from this angle, she could see his thick brows furrowing in study. “But we should still clean it up.”

And then he looked up at her, and all her desire to tell this cocky asshole off was put on hold. Because she was staring into what were probably the bluest eyes she’d ever seen, and that tender a gaze should not belong to someone she’d literally just fallen onto. He should be mad, shouldn’t he? Wasn’t that usually what happened? But, if she was reading this correctly, he was worried...about her?

Did she hit her head, too? What the hell was going on?

She just blinked and gaped at him, until David stepped in front of her to help pull her up. She didn’t shy away from his touch, or the hug he gave her once she was upright. “I’ll clean up the bottle; you let Killian take care of you.”

“Okay,” she mumbled back, and followed Killian back into the house. It wasn’t until they were in the upstairs bathroom that she came out of her fog—more specifically, when he was pouring rubbing alcohol on her cuts. “Ah—what the hell?”

“I tried to warn you,” he replied curtly, then lightly dabbed at the mess with a hand towel. She noticed that he hadn’t taken his own gloves off yet, despite somehow managing to get her trashed one off without her noticing.

“‘S okay,” she muttered. He was almost clinical as he cleaned the (mostly wine) mess from her hand and applied ointment, though it didn’t escape her notice that one hand was noticeably stiffer than the other.

“Alright, I’m gonna wrap it up, but I might need your help; this requires a bit more dexterity than this thing can offer,” he explained, holding up the stiff hand.

“It’s a fake?”

“Aye; a good one, but not perfect.” Part of her wanted to ask, but she swallowed down her untoward curiosity.

They passed the roll of gauze between the two of them until her palm was covered, but she gave him a surreptitious once-over while they worked: he too was dressed in an unseasonable black leather jacket, the jeans she’d noticed earlier, and a navy oxford shirt with the collar popped, buttoned to his neck.

“Aren’t you hot?” she asked as he secured the end of the bandage; it was a tight wrap, but not constricting, making her wonder where he learned first aid.

He just smirked, which cut a dimple into the gingery scruff that covered his sharp jaw. “Does that mean you find me attractive, love?” he tossed back as he cleaned up the tiny mess they’d made.

She huffed; maybe she was right about her first assessment of this guy—what kind of cocky jerk said that? (Even if it was true.) “Not what I said. It was a question; not a statement.”

He put the bandage wrapper in the trash and then gathered the soiled towel. “I’d explain it, but I think you already know the answer.” His eyes traveled down her body much like she’d just done to him, then intensely met her gaze, an expressive eyebrow arched almost in challenge.

Something about him made her squirm, but she couldn’t tell if it was in a good or bad way yet. Or if maybe she really was sweating to death in this outfit.

He stepped toward her, and she sucked in a breath, instinctively moving away from him. “It’s alright,” he assured her, holding his hands up where she could see them as he continued toward the bathroom door. “Just going to toss this and head back outside.”

If the manner of dress weren’t enough, the fact that he was able to read her reaction definitely confirmed the fact: he was trying to avoid touch as much as possible, too.

“Yeah,” she answered, trying (and failing) to play it cool. “Uh, thanks.”

“My pleasure,” he said, with a slight bow of his head, then turned and headed out of sight.

She sighed once he left. What the hell had just happened? What kind of guy just cleans wounds for people he doesn’t know, especially one who apparently held the same no-touching policy?

And why did she let him? She was no stranger to cleaning up her own injuries—at least, the ones that didn’t require a trip to the ER. She was a mom, for god’s sake; she was usually the one fixing boo-boos.

She took a deep breath and let it out, trying to shake some of these weird nerves off. Then actually shook—her head, hands, arms, whole body. It helped, but she still felt a bit off-tilt. And she didn’t even have any wine to help her deal with it. Fuck.

But she couldn’t hide in the half-bath forever, so she fixed her hair in the mirror and then headed back to the yard. Killian was already there, seated under the umbrella at the patio table nursing a beer. Dave was manning the grill while Snow picked up the bottle shards.

“Hey, let me help—” Emma tried to intervene, but Snow brushed her off.

“It’s fine; I don’t want you to get cut again. Just grab a drink and have a seat.”

Even though she couldn’t see Snow’s face, Emma was pretty sure it had a self-satisfied smirk on it. They’d probably just reenacted some romance novel trope and she could see another one about to play out—and Snow knew it.

Emma grabbed a beer from the cooler by the grill, making sure to quickly tease Dave on his mediocre grilling skills, and then turned her attention to the table. The smart thing for her would be to sit opposite Killian, keeping the full table and umbrella pole between them. But that would force Snow and David to sit opposite as well, and it was kind of an unspoken rule that they never did that; it made it too hard for one to grab the other’s hand and mentally share some piece of gossip or inside joke.

So Emma took her seat next to Killian, but made sure the chair was a respectable distance away from his. It was a little awkward at first, because he seemed just as (not) interested in conversation as she was, but there was still a heaviness to the air that had nothing to do with the humidity.

“Um, thanks again,” she started, not knowing how else to break the unsteady silence.

“Don’t mention it,” he said, brushing it off with another sip of his beer. Whatever softness she’d seen earlier was back in hiding; she couldn’t really judge him for it when that was her usual MO.

It got quiet again, until David started yelling and jumping away from the flames shooting up from the grill.

“Fuck!” “Bloody hell!” they shouted at the same time.

David was fanning it with a potholder when Snow rushed to his side. “What the heck are you doing?” she chastised, then jumped forward and turned down the heat. “Are you trying to show off, you pyromaniac?”

The pair at the table snorted as Snow continued to lecture him about grill safety, even if they couldn’t hear half of it; the look on her face as she held tight to David’s forearm and stared him down said everything.

“Are they always like this?” Killian asked, his tone lighter than it had been a minute ago.

“Oh my god, always. And it’s been like this for 12 years.”

“Damn.”

Snow stormed off inside while David slunk back to the grill and pulled the steaks off of it.

“And they’re really soulmates?” Killian wondered, though she couldn’t tell if it was rhetorical or not.

“Yup,” was all she answered, and took another sip of beer.

Killian just hummed and stared at the condensation rings from his bottle on the glass-top table. There was something dark and faraway in his gaze; part of her knew it wasn’t her business, but a weird part of her wanted to cheer him up.

“Would you believe that those two are trying to set us up?” she said quietly and conspiratorially.

“Huh?” He looked up, blinking; it took a moment for his eyes to refocus on her. “Oh, aye; I had a suspicion.”

She wasn’t sure if she should be offended or relieved at his indifference. “Yeah, they tend to do that. So, you might wanna get used to it.”

He took another long sip. “David knows my feelings on that matter; I’m sure it won’t be that bad.”

Emma snorted again. “Dude, I’m his sister. He knows exactly why I’m not interested in anything and that still hasn’t stopped them.”

“And why is that?”

“I—” She cut herself almost immediately, because she was just about to spill her life story to this guy who she’d met literally half an hour ago. She didn’t even like thinking about all that, let alone discussing it. So why was she so ready to spill all her beans? “I don’t really like talking about it,” she finally said, in a small voice.

“I know the feeling,” he answered, just as somberly. “Cheers to tragic backstories?” He extended his arm to her, bottle leaning forward in invitation to a toast.

“Cheers,” she said back, clinking the glasses together (but holding back a bit in case of another shatter).

Typically, the idea of meeting someone with as much emotional baggage as she carried sounded exhausting; but with Killian, she couldn’t help but be curious. It wasn’t uncommon for someone to shun the idea of soulmates, but it was rare to go to the lengths that she and Killian were going to. She heard the tuts and saw the pitying stares from people as she went about her day, especially this time of year when it was so obvious. And she was usually good about not letting it get to her—all she had to do was see Henry’s face to remind her why she did it. She’d never met anyone else who did, though, and wondered a bit at what Killian’s reasons were.

But, as she reminded herself, she’d just met the guy; it was hardly appropriate to pry when she wasn’t about to reveal anything herself. Thankfully, Snow arrived at the table at that moment with a tray covered in food, and they dug into the meal, maintaining a casual level of chat the whole time. It turned out that David met Killian while he was out for a run; David was the crazy type to go out at dawn, so when he ran into someone else doing that, it took his notice and they bonded almost immediately. That wasn’t a rare thing in David’s life, but based on the bashful expression on Killian’s face, she could tell it was for him.

After dinner had been cleared away and the pie brought out, Snow declared, “Oh, this was so nice. I’m so glad you were able to come, Killian.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, milady; thanks for the hospitality.”

“Oh, don't mention it,” she waved off. “I just wish he could have met Henry, too!”

“Who’s Henry?”

“My son,” Emma interjected. Who would probably also try to pull Killian into their family sphere; he was a lot like her brother in that regard. “He’s at a friend’s tonight, but this is our weekly tradition.”

“I’m not intruding, am I?” He seemed worried all of a sudden.

“No,” the other three were quick to assure him. “Besides,” Snow continued, “it seems like you're fitting right in. You two seemed to be getting on well,” she added with a wink.

“Too much, Snow,” David muttered beside her, focusing on clearing dishes.

“What? I’m just saying—”

Gently, David placed his hand over hers and found her gaze. It was pretty obvious again to imagine the private conversation they were having, but it still made Emma feel like she was invading their privacy, so she went back to picking at her pie crust. A glance at Killian saw him doing the same.

After a long awkward silence that the couple was completely unaware of, David removed his hand and started gathering plates. “Well, I mean what I said,” Snow continued, albeit a bit less forcefully. “You’re welcome here anytime.”

“I appreciate that,” he said softly, blushing a bit if she wasn’t mistaken—it was hard to tell in the shade of the umbrella if it was that, or just overheating. “I’ll be sure to bring better beer next time, too; is this really what you Yanks consider good ale?”

“I heard that!” David shouted from the open kitchen window.

“‘Yanks’?” Emma teased. “You sound like you just got off the boat from England.”

“I did,” he quickly replied. “In fact, it’s still docked in the harbour.”

“It’s been—what, a month?” Snow added.

“About that, yeah,” he confirmed. “And I still haven’t managed to find anything better than barley water to drink.” He glanced down at the label of his beer. “Sam Adams? Sounds like a ponce.”

“Mm, those are fighting words around here,” Emma threw back with a grin; she hardly even noticed how fast, or how easy it was, to slip into banter with him. “And I think we already know who won that war.”

“Yeah, but we got the good beer, so it’s probably a draw.”

It was kind of amazing how quickly they fell into casual conversation, especially when she usually hated insincere smalltalk. Killian was funny and charming, and despite the apparently short time they’d known each other, always had a ready quip for David. It was kind of adorable seeing the way his eyes sparkled and the fine lines next to them crinkled as he laughed.

Wait, what? Admitting he was attractive was one thing—not like anyone could argue against it—but...being endeared to him? That was a whole other level of nope she didn’t want to deal with.

But then he told another joke and that concern was put back on the backburner.

Eventually, the evening wrapped up, and Killian cited work as a reason for leaving early. She kind of felt bad—ever since she’d mentioned the weekly tradition thing, she could see an uneasiness in his eyes that told her he felt like he was trespassing; she knew it because it was how she felt in most of the actual family homes she’d been in growing up, and for a long while at the Nolans, even after the ink dried on the adoption forms.

“I hope he didn’t feel like he had to leave,” Snow said, echoing Emma’s thoughts, while the two of them were doing the dishes—with no more threat lurking, Emma had removed her other glove and her jacket, finally feeling a bit cooler. “He’s still so new here, and I don’t think he’s had time to make many friends yet.”

Part of Emma wanted to protest on his behalf—she still remembered being so overwhelmed by the Nolans initial drive to introduce her to anyone and everyone; even to this day, she only maintained a few good friendships and only a handful of casual ones. If Killian was as skittish or uncomfortable in that regard as she was, he wouldn’t want to be paraded in front of half the city.

But she also knew how good it was to find that kind of connection and support with someone like she had with Snow; they were close even before the discovery of her and David’s soulmate status. Emma didn’t doubt he had friends back in England, but having someone stateside would no doubt make the transition easier; it definitely would have as a kid.

“Well, at least he’s got us,” she finally answered.

Friends. She could totally do friends.

Right?

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

thanks for reading! Hope you stick around for the next couple chapters!

tagging some peeps: @kat2609 @thesschesthair @optomisticgirl @fergus80 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @amortentia-on-the-rocks @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @wingedlioness @word-bug @pirateherokillian @bleebug @its-imperator-furiosa @killianmesmalls @effulgentcolors @laschatzi @ive-always-been-a-pirate @stubble-sandwich @killian-whump @lenfaz @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis

#cs ff #cssns 2019 #cs modern au #cs soulmates au #my ff #sick of love

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makeste · 5 years

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BnHA Chapter 167: Every Breath You Take

Previously on BnHA: Todo, Bakugou, Inasa, and Camie were assailed by a bunch of six-year-olds with some admittedly impressive quirks. We learned about the theory of “quirk singularity” which basically says that quirks are going to keep getting more and more powerful with each generation until they become impossible to control. Not sure if this will come up again, but it’s a cool concept. The adults watching were all “...” but it turned out that the Baby-Sitters Club had things under control. They easily blocked the kids’ attacks, and then used their own quirks to create an awesome playplace for the kids with a giant ice slide. (Oh yeah, and we also learned that CAMIE HAS A FUCKING ILLUSION QUIRK. So that was cool too.) Bakugou had a heart to heart with the bratty leader of the kids, and told him that he wouldn’t be able to grow unless he learned to stop looking down on other people. Yes, Bakugou actually said this. Yes, that Bakugou. Not to be outdone, Endeavor now appears poised to start his own journey of becoming less of an asshole. This is exciting, you guys. I’m excited.

Today on BnHA: The babysitting squad bids farewell to the kids, who have now been totally reformed and are all polite little angels. The U.A. and Shiketsu teachers discuss plans to work together in the future and foster a closer relationship, seeing as both schools have had their students targeted by the League of Villains. Endeavor tells Shouto he’s proud of him and vows to become a man Shouto can be proud of too. The internship arc wraps up and we learn that U.A. suspended the kids’ internships with Ryuukyuu and Fat Gum for the time being, and that Eri has woken up and is doing better, but she’s still in the hospital for now while they analyze her mental state and try to figure out how to handle her potentially lethal quirk. A few days later, we catch up with Deku, whose affections Aoyama seems to be trying to pry by randomly giving him cheese. Later that night, in what is unquestionably the single most terrifying scene in this series to date, Deku hops into bed only for the camera to pan over to Aoyama, who is standing pressed up against Deku’s balcony door, just fucking watching him sleep. Good night, everyone.

(As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’ve read up through half of chapter 192 now (lol I just need more time to binge), so any ETAs will reflect that.)

so now playtime is over and they are professionally demolishing the slide

don’t act like this isn’t easily the best part of your day you psycho

Chain Chomp is volunteering to help by having his little chomps eat the ice shards

Shouto is praising him and saying that a quirk like that would shine during a disaster rescue operation

the teacher is amazed at how calm the kids have become

but Gang Orca says that the kids attitudes “reflect their evaluation of us adults”

he says that them unleashing their quirks without hesitation like that is a problem of the education system

yeah, I’ll say. I’m thinking back to Katsuki and Izuku’s chaotic middle school now, and it’s safe to say that place had a similar problem with a lack of decent quirk counseling and education. their teachers basically just let the kids go off whenever and use their quirks all the damn time. whoever was tasked with teaching them responsibility and ethics clearly fucked up in a major way

anyway, it seems these kids have now been nudged onto the proper path, and their sensei is vowing to teach them well

lol look at them returning Bakugou’s gauntlets so solemnly

so now they’re bidding the tykes farewell, and Gang Orca is appraising how they did in the assignment

“abstract challenge” lmao. A++ government trolling for sure

holy shit would you look at these disrespectful little delinquents

this is why he keeps punting them every time he sees them. he’s just desperate to maintain their attention in any way he possibly can

so the kids have changed back and are getting ready to go their separate ways

you guys I think Shouto is finally warming up to Inasa omg

like, he doesn’t look completely annoyed just by his mere presence anymore! progress

also lol at Camie pointing out that when Bakugou is keeping quiet, his manners can actually pass for decent

and then him immediately shouting at her to shut up, because GOD FORBID anyone get it into their heads that he’s actually capable of behaving like a normal, calm human person

uh oh Inasa’s going all “!” and it looks like he’s spotted Endeavor up ahead with the other teachers

Camie’s running over to them now and she’s all, “oh my god, Seiji’s talking to All Might”

and he says that they were actually talking about her

her teacher says that they’re talking about forming a closer relationship between the two schools and sharing information with each other

and part of the reason why is that they still don’t know why Camie was attacked, and it would be easier to figure out if they worked more closely with U.A.

good call there. if you want to find out more about the League of Villains, that is

maybe less of a good call if you actually want your students to stay out of the constant-villain-attacks-and-secret-traitors shitshow that U.A.’s got going on, though

so apparently they’re talking about setting up some cooperative training exercises between the two schools. ooh, that would be fun. I’m on board for this

meanwhile Endeavor is trying to casually chat up his estranged son

hoo boy this is awkward as fuck

hey here’s an idea, maybe don’t pretend like everything’s good between you and like you haven’t done anything wrong. maybe try showing some remorse or something. that’d be a good start

dammit

okay here’s the thing. I fully believe this is true, and that he’s proud of him for finding his own path and his own strength. we saw at the end of the last chapter that he was possibly starting to come to a lot of extremely belated realizations

but the thing is that Shouto doesn’t know any of that, and as far as he’s concerned, Endeavor’s still the bastard who spent Shouto’s entire life telling him “I created you to surpass All Might” in addition to the various other bastardly things

so when Shouto hears “I’m proud of you” from this man, I have to assume he’s going to take it as Endeavor being proud of how strong he’s become in terms of mastering his quirk. like, “good on you, you’re closer than ever to becoming the perfect little super soldier puppet I created you to be.” rather than “I’m proud of you for the good person you are and for the strength of character that you’ve shown today and continue to show and that you certainly never got from me”

anyways, yeah. so Shouto looks quite angry, actually

meanwhile Inasa’s watching them like

are you gonna step in and help your new best friend out here buddy

oh shit, sudden vulnerable power move from Endeav out of nowhere

oh damn

there’s a lot going on in just that one simple sentence, though

for starters, it’s an acknowledgement that Shouto is rightfully not in the least bit proud of him right now (on account of him having been a piece of shit this entire time). and then obviously, it’s also a promise to become a better person. not just a stronger person, but a better man

so, yeah. I like this. progress. finally some long-overdue steps toward making things right

(ETA: honestly, I love that Horikoshi had the nads to go for an Endeavor redemption arc after going out of his way to make him as unlikable as humanly possible. it’s like he purposely set the challenge level to the highest possible difficulty and then took a deep breath and said “okay, let’s do this.” looking back at Endeavor’s introduction and even his character profile, it’s clear he had this whole thing planned from the start, but he patiently played the long game and took no shortcuts, and all in all I’m extremely impressed.)

Shouto doesn’t look like he has any idea how to react to this, and he’s mostly just still irritated

that’s about as good of a response as Endeavor could hope to get, honestly. now leave him alone and go start improving yourself you douchebag

omg

what just happened

did he just punch himself in the face and then power walk up to the guy that he hates

what the fuck you guys

which angel up in heaven is responsible for molding this young man. what did you put in him. he’s so fucking nice. how is he so nice. why did he punch himself, that was so violent and I’m honestly very concerned. but mostly, just. WHY SO NICE GODDAMMIT

lol and now All Might is just

had enough of this weirdness, eh

now All Might is thinking optimistic thoughts about how much progress everyone is making little by little, and it’s so heartwarming

(ETA: I just wanted to add that that last panel in the bottom left is a favorite of mine. I fucking love moments when mentors are looking on at their kids proudly and the kids aren’t aware of it and so they just keep on doing whatever it was that made the mentor proud to begin with. there is such fondness in All Might’s expression here. it’s so gentle. he is so proud of them in this moment. and Bakugou isn’t aware of his hero’s eyes on him; he’s just looking back at Shouto, who he’s been getting on with to a degree that would previously have been shocking tbh. and of course we got the reminder just two chapters ago that Bakugou does know about Shouto’s history with his father, so I interpret this glance here as just him quietly assessing his classmate’s status after that chat with dad, and making sure he’s all good so he can recommence being annoyed by everything he does and making sure he knows it. and meanwhile Shouto is just caught up in his own thoughts, but just like All Might said, he is making progress. little by little he is figuring out how to move on.

just, there’s so much going on here and I didn’t even get into all of it, honestly. but basically I just got caught up in the moment and remembered how much I love this series and its characters omg.)

and now we’re cutting to class 1-A a few days later!

the narration is saying that September has come to a close and it’s now October. wow, seriously? you mean it wasn’t already?

well, I suppose that makes sense. the provisional license exam was probably set on September 1st or around then. so they’ve been doing these supplementary courses every weekend since then, so this was probably like their fourth one. one of these days I’m going to have to make a timeline, if there isn’t one out there already

(ETA: there’s actually a pretty nice one up on reddit somewhere, but I haven’t looked at it too closely yet because spoilers.)

HEY WHAT THE FUCK

I DIDN’T ASK FOR THESE FEELS YOU SON OF A BITCH!!

but also does this mean Mirio is officially back at U.A., though? because that’s good. even if he doesn’t have his quirk, it doesn’t mean he can’t still complete the last year of the hero course. he’s still gotta keep up with his studies and stay in shape

(ETA: U.A. is honestly failing their most gifted student in his time of greatest need and I’m so mad about it. what the fuck U.A.)

also THANK GOD, they ended up putting the internships on hold for the time being. THANK YOU JESUS

honestly it was the right call. let’s give these kids a break from trauma for a little while. or at the very least try to do so

and apparently Centipeder took over Nighteye’s agency and they are awaiting Mirio’s return. ;_; awww

AHHHHHHH

MY SWEET BABY

“her psychological state is still unstable” gee you think??

and this is the first time we’ve seen her without the bandages on her arms, and there are all those little scars there and I was just slammed by feels oh shit

but still! she’s safe! and getting better finally!

and they’re actually explaining about the horn on her forehead oh wow

does this mean her power is weaker now than it used to be? I honestly feel like Horikoshi’s doing a good job of keeping this in check for now. he’s made it so she can’t control it, and that excessive use of it can do her serious harm and put her in a fever coma. so for the time being, it doesn’t look like we have to worry about this becoming a deus-ex-machina type of thing

but I honestly don’t see why they can’t just give her some gloves and let her interact with people

at least Aizawa is clearly visiting her, though. maybe he can adopt her. I mean, he’s the second best dad in the series, and honestly just a dad hug or two from stealing the top place from All Might if he really really wants to. I’m just saying, Aizawa. the power is yours

(ETA: man, the Basement Arc dragged on so long that I almost forgot what it was like for this manga to give me exactly what I want. it is such a nice feeling omg. we can still be simpatico with just a little bit of effort.)

oh hey

so can we take this as confirmation that Ecto teaches math, then? so that’s him for math, and Present Mic for English. I still have Aizawa down for art unless anyone can prove otherwise

holy moly Jirou has taken her blazer off and rolled up her sleeves and is chewing on her earbud in thought

this, to me, is 1000x hotter than any skimpy boobs-showing costume Horikoshi could ever design you guys. not that I’m being all “hey look how smoking hot this 16-year-old is!” or anything like that lol. but she looks good and once again her lesbian energy is off the charts, and I’m sure that if Momo wasn’t so distracted by math right at this moment then she’d be all over that

however she is, in fact, distracted by math!

stumped, in fact. wow, seriously?

and now Tokoyami is continuing to look around the class, and it seems that his attention has fallen onto Deku. and it’s not hard to see why

YOU GO, DEKU. PUT THAT BIG HERO BRAIN THROUGH ITS PACES

oh!

SO CONFIDENT

LMAO

SO MUCH FOR THAT BIG HERO BRAIN

but did you see Bakugou’s face though omggggg

Deku can’t seem to figure out where he went wrong. huh

I don’t see why this is a big deal at all, but let’s see where this takes us!

now Ecto is dismissing them for lunch

Ocha and Iida are coming up to Deku to congratulate him for his ferocious efforts

oh?

do tell, narrator Deku

WHAT THE

first of all, somehow that nearly scared the SHIT out of me

and second of all... what

I don’t think any of us were expecting that lmao

wow, Deku is summing up both of my reactions so neatly

YOU SCARED ME! and CHEESE!? yep. pretty much covers it all

Aoyama has got a whole plate of cheese in fact, and now he’s trying to feed Deku more

Deku’s trembling slightly and says his mouth is still full

now Iida is inviting Aoyama to join their group since he usually eats alone

but he says the cafeteria doesn’t suit his tastes

is he drinking wine

(ETA: ngl, after I first finished reading this chapter I went back to this part and I was honestly wondering whether or not he was drinking blood. can you imagine. like Toga’s own fucked up form of Polyjuice potion.)

and Iida’s just letting him. wow

also that katakana is cracking me the fuck up omg

holy shit Deku, you’re fucking telling me your ominous narration was about fucking Aoyama this whole time

and now we’re visiting Deku’s room at night huh

it’s 1 a.m. and he’s still studying, wow. Bakugou has been asleep for five hours already lmao

holy SHIT????!!

-- HOLY SHIT YOU GUYS WAIT UP

because I was all 1. WHAT THE, and 2. AOYAMA WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK HAS GOTTEN INTO YOU, and then I remembered that 3. Deku’s room is on the 2nd floor so HOW DID HE EVEN GET UP THERE

but then I went back to look at the dorm layout and remembered that Aoyama’s room is right next door, so maybe he hopped balconies like some sort of ninja

but then I was like 4. BUT WHY, THOUGH

and meanwhile this entire time I kept looking back at his creepy face and was like WHAT THE FUCK, WHY IS MY SPARKLY LITTLE FRENCHMAN SUDDENLY ACTING SO FUCKING CREEPY --

AND THEN IT HIT ME. that’s not really Aoyama, is it

it’s fucking Toga, isn’t it. it has to be. right?? suddenly acting wildly out of character and bizarrely interested in Deku in the creepiest of fashions? and then sneaking over to stare at Deku through his fucking balcony window in the middle of the night??

and on top of that, for this to happen in the very same chapter where they discussed the same thing happening to Camie? yeah. yeah, okay, manga. I got it. message fucking received

so this means that Aoyama has been captured by the League?? or is Toga acting independently? holy shit

do you hear that. that’s the sound of me being sucked RIGHT BACK IN lol. ahhhh man. feels fucking good. let’s read some more of this bitch

(ETA: lmao, there’s a part of me that honestly wishes this theory hadn’t been blown to bits in the very next chapter. for a minute there it was such a damn rush. but no, Aoyama just loves Deku and wanted to present him with some friendship cheese, and also maybe give him a friendship heart attack.)

BONUS:

nice try son, but nope

oh look, it’s Iida’s brother who’s currently paralyzed from the waist down. standing back to back with his lil bro in costume, in a way that they’ll actually never be able to do ever again. that’s just cruel, Vigilantes writer guy

not sure what’s been up with the volume extras lately. I’m really surprised we didn’t get a profile of Camie after the babysitting arc. we got one of the damn elementary school teacher, but not her, even after her quirk was revealed? did Horikoshi just forget, or did he run out of time, or is he saving it for later, or what

anyways, this is also the last batch of volume omakes that FA scanlated. so after this it’s going to be a lot harder for me to find them. I know that some of the extras from the upcoming volumes have been translated, but I might not always have time to try and track them down. so moving forward we might not have as many bonus pages, but I will still try and include them whenever I can

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write-havoc · 5 years

Text

The Glasswing Butterfly Part 17

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

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

Fandom: The Walking Dead AU

Pairing: Negan/Original Female Character

Status: Ongoing

Contains: swearing, smut

Intended for readers 18+ of age only

Masterlist in my bio

“Fuck. Oh fuuuucckk,” Negan groans as his knot swells to completion once again inside Chuck. He can already feel his head clearing, signaling that this cycle of his rut and her heat is coming to an end.

“Mmm,” Chuck hums as she comes down from her own high.

“You good, baby girl?” he whispers into her ear as he wraps his arms around her, pulling her back into his chest.

“I’m good,” she answers dreamily, placing her arms over his wrapped around her.

“You know, I kinda like all the pillows,” he jokes. “Makes shit cozier. Like we’re fucking in a cocoon.”

She giggles. “Now that my heat is just about over, I think we can get rid of them. After your knot goes down, anyway.”

He snuggles more into her back. “We can keep them ‘til tomorrow,” he says with a smirk.

A few days later, Negan walks into the nearest pharmacy to pick up his prescription of omega condoms, since they are almost completely out after Chuck’s heat. It’s such a hassle having to call his doctor so they can call the pharmacy so Negan can wait in line just so he can sleep with Chuck without her getting pregnant, but it’s necessary. Annoying, but necessary since Chuck can’t take any birth control.

Of course the place is busy when he gets there, so he stands in line patiently waiting until he can get to the counter. It’s a smaller pharmacy than the one back in Charlottesville, so there’s only a few people working there, which is why the line is so long. After a while, he finally gets to the front.

“Prescription for Negan,” he says to the girl behind the counter.

She pauses, giving him an anxious look before she mutters, “Just a moment.” The girl quickly walks away to disappear into the back. After a few minutes, an older man in a lab coat comes forward, obviously the pharmacist and not just a technician like the younger woman from earlier.

“Mr. Negan,” the man starts, “I’m sorry, but I can’t fill your prescription.”

“Why not?” Negan spits back.

“I am morally opposed to providing it to you.”

“ Morally opposed ? What the fuck does that mean?”

The man lets out a huff. “It is my right not to provide drugs that go against my moral and religious beliefs.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? You have a whole fuckin’ aisle of condoms and lube just over there that anyone can pick up! Or is it just so betas can pick that shit up?”

The pharmacist is starting to look very nervous, but he holds his ground. “I suggest you come back tomorrow. The pharmacist on duty then will probably fill your prescription.”

Negan, fully pissed off now, points his finger right in the man’s face. “This is bullshit and you know it. Classist fuck.” He stomps through the people gawking at the display of what just happened and exits the store.

As soon as Chuck sees Negan come in from where she’s walking down the stairs, she knows something is wrong. “What happened?” she asks as she continues her descent to follow him into the kitchen.

He opens the refrigerator and pulls out a bottle of water before turning around to answer her. “The pharmacist wouldn’t give me my prescription,” he relays with anger in his tone. “Small town fuckin’ pharmacy,” he mutters.

“What? They can do that?”

“Yeah.” He takes a gulp of water. “‘Religious beliefs’,” he says with quotey fingers. “It’s perfectly fine for doctors and shit to discriminate against us because of a few words in the goddamn bible saying that nothing should come in the way of alphas impregnating omegas.” He takes another angry drink. “Fuckin’ discriminating assholes,” he mutters.

“So we have to find another pharmacy?”

He lets out a huff as he leans back on the counter. “I don’t want to have to fuckin’ drive into DC every time we need a goddamn prescription.” He sets the bottle down and scratches at his cheek. “I’ll go back tomorrow and see if the other pharmacist will do it. If they won’t, then I guess I’ll have to brave fuckin’ DC traffic.”

“Alright.” She goes over to him and gives him a hug. “I’m sorry this is such a hassle.”

He kisses the top of her head. “It’s not your fault. It’s that old ass beta’s fault for being a hateful dick. I can’t believe it’s fuckin’ legal to do that shit still.”

The next day, Negan heads back to the pharmacy. He waits in line, just like he did yesterday, and when he gets to the counter, he sees the same young woman from yesterday handing out the prescriptions. Once she sees Negan, her eyebrows raise almost like she’s scared.

“Negan,” he says to her without prompt.

“Uh. Yes, sir.” She hurries to the back and comes back with a white bag in her hands. “There you go,” she says quietly, afraid of how the alpha in front of her will react.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” he tries to soothe her. “I know you’re just doing your job. It’s not your fault that pharmacist is living in the fuckin’ olden days.”

She gives him a nervous smile. “Thanks.”

After she rings him out, he asks, “So what days does the douchebag pharmacist work so I know to stay away?”

“Uh.” She clears her throat. “I can’t tell you that,” she answers meekly. “It’s company policy.”

He lets out a huff and picks up the bag from the counter. “Of course it is.”

“H-Have a nice day.”

He just gives her a nod and walks out.

Negan has been working on his bike for a few hours when his phone rings. After the short conversation with an old acquaintance, he makes his way back inside. He’s just about ready to call out for Chuck when he hears music coming from upstairs. He follows the melody to their bedroom to see Chuck practicing her violin.

“Sounds beautiful,” Negan comments from the doorway.

Chuck stops playing to look up at him. “I’m not that good yet. But I’m getting better.” She moves to put the instrument back in it’s case. “I’m glad my mom gave it to me. It’s pretty fun to play.”

Negan takes a few steps into the room. “So... you remember when I told you I was gonna take you to a baseball game?”

She scrunches up her face as she tries to remember. “Not really.”

“Well I did tell you that and now I’m gonna be in possession of two tickets to see my Yankees play in DC. This guy I know came into them and isn’t a fuckin’ fan, so he’s gonna give ‘em to me.”

“Oh,” she replies, trying to sound excited. “That’s nice.”

He just chuckles at her unenthusiastic reaction. “Come on! Baseball is the national pastime!”

“No, I know. I just... don’t watch baseball.” She shrugs a shoulder. “But I’ll go to this game with you.”

“Don’t sound so happy about it,” he jokes sarcastically.

She giggles. “I’m happy... to spend time with you.”

Pulling her into him for a kiss, he chuckles at how hard she’s trying to hide her indifference to his favorite sport.

Just under a week later, Chuck and Negan (decked out in all his Yankees gear) are sat in Nationals Park in DC waiting for the game to start.

“How are you a Yankees fan?” Chuck asks. “You’ve always lived in Virginia, right?”

“Yeah.” He lets out a sad chuckle. “My dad was born in Boston. Always made me watch the fuckin’ Red Sox. Since my fuckin’ father was an asshole, I decided to root for the Yankees despite him.” When she just looks at him confused, he realizes he has to explain. “The Yankees and the Red Sox are rivals. Have been for decades. It’s like the biggest fuckin’ sports rivalry in history.”

She gives him a little shrug.

“Curse of the Bambino?” he tries, thinking she has to have at least heard of that.

“I don’t know what that is,” she admits.

“Shit,” he groans, but she just laughs.

“My family was never a sports family. We’re band nerds.”

Negan shakes his head, playing up his fake disappointment. “You’re breaking my heart girl. You’ve heard of Babe Ruth, right?”

“Yeah. I know who he is.”

“That’s something, at least.”

As the game gets underway, Chuck tries her best to pay attention to the action on the field. She soon finds that it’s much more entertaining just to watch Negan as he’s watching the game.

*crack* The ball sails through the air as the Nationals batter starts to run to first base.

“Ah, shit! They could get three fuckin’ runs! No!” Negan jumps up from his seat as his eyes follow the ball. “Catch it! Fuckin’ catch it!”

When the ball lands safely in one of the Yankee’s gloves, Negan lets out a cry of relief. But he goes absolutely nuts when the player throws the ball to the guy on third base, which calls one runner out. When the ball is thrown home, the umpire calls another runner from the Nationals out as he slides in.

“Triple play!” Negan screams as he throws his hands up in the air. “Holy shit!”

Chuck can’t help but giggle at how excited he is. It makes him look like a little kid, which is so cute to her.

“Did you fuckin’ see that?!” He turns back to Chuck to see her reaction. “That was fuckin’ amazing. A triple play!”

Chuck nods, though she’s still giggling. “Is that good?”

“Is that good?!” He sits back down, his breathing still rapid from the excitement. “It’s fuckin’ rare and awesome as fuck! I can’t believe I was here for that!”

“I didn’t really see it,” she admits. “I was watching you.”

“What?” He scrunches up his face in confusion. “Why the fuck would you be watching me?”

“Because I like to see you so excited.”

That gets him to let out a chuckle. “I guess I can accept that.” He wraps his arm around her shoulders and pulls her forward to kiss her.

Once the game is over (Yankees won), Chuck and Negan exit the stadium to make their way home. Despite the horrible gridlock that comes with all the spectators leaving at the same time, Negan is still practically vibrating with enthusiasm.

“That was such a good fuckin’ game,” he comments. “Don’t you think?”

“Yeah. I had fun.”

“Did you?” He flicks his gaze over to her. “Or are you just fuckin’ saying that?”

“I did have fun. I had fun because you had fun.”

He shakes his head with a smile on his face. “I’m not making you a fuckin’ fan of baseball anytime soon, am I?”

She shrugs. “Maybe...”

Her attempt at being diplomatic doesn’t fool Negan, but he’s not offended. “I guess we’re just gonna have to continue to disagree on the entertainment value of organized sports.”

She giggles. “That’s probably for the best.”

A few days later, Diane comes for a visit. Since Negan had gotten called in to work, Chuck and her mother have the house to themselves.

“Work’s going well?” Diane asks her daughter as they both sit on the couch, mugs of coffee in their hands.

“Yeah,” Chuck answers. “It’s really good.”

“And Negan?”

Chuck giggles. “He’s good, too.” She brings her mug up to take a sip of her sweet coffee.

“Have you started to talk about the wedding?”

Chuck lets out a little cough into her cup. “Wedding?”

“Well yeah. You know, to your fiancé ?” Diane replies sarcastically.

“We, uh.” Chuck clears her throat. “We haven’t really talked about it.”

“Charlotte Josephine,” her mother chides. “You’ve been engaged for months now.”

“I know. But we’re already mates. And living together. A wedding is just a ceremony, really.”

“A ceremony your mother wants to see!”

Chuck laughs at her dramatics. “We’ll have a wedding at some point, Mom. But I don’t want a big thing. Just a little get together. I mean,” Chuck looks around, “we could do it here. We have a nice back yard.”

“Negan might want it done in a church.”

Chuck gives her a look. “Is that your way of saying that you want it in a church?”

“No,” Diane tries, though Chuck is right. “You haven’t asked Negan, have you?”

“He’s not exactly religious, Mom. Neither am I.”

“There are some gorgeous churches around here-“

“You’ve already been planning the wedding, haven’t you?” Chuck asks, talking over her mother.

Diane doesn’t see the point in hiding it anymore. “Of course I have! You’re my only child. When you were a little girl, I always pictured you meeting a nice boy in college, renting a crappy apartment together, getting engaged, and having a big wedding with everyone’s families. Then you’d get a house, kids, the whole nine yards. But...”

“I wasn’t normal.” Chuck finishes the sentence sadly.

“No. I wasn’t going to say that.”

“But I wasn’t normal. I was an omega, but... not really.”

“I always thought there was someone out there for you,” Diane reassures her daughter. “I was right. Sort of,” she tacks on with a laugh. “I never thought he’d be an alpha and you’d be an omega and the whole claiming stuff. So it’s a little different than I’d imagined,” she chuckles a bit. “But I’m so happy that you’ve found love with Negan.” Chuck feels her cheeks going red at that, but Diane just continues. “And I wanna celebrate that with a wedding!”

Chuck laughs. “Alright. Me and Negan will start to talk about it,” she assures her.

“Yes!” Diane calls out.

“I said start to talk,” Chuck stresses. “Don’t get too excited just yet.”

Meanwhile, Negan is sitting in on a math class all day at the high school. The teacher hadn’t left any specific instructions, so Negan is just treating it as a study hall. It’s not exactly exciting, but he’s getting to know the kids a little more.

The last period of the day happens to be a class that Carl Grimes is in. As soon as Negan sees him, he lets out a laugh.

“It’s about time I get one of your classes,” he calls out as Carl takes his seat along with his friends that came in with him.

“Hey, Negan,” the teenager greets.

When Negan sees that the class is mostly empty after the bell rings, he lets out a huff. “Where the fuck is everyone else?” he asks no one in particular.

“They all skipped to get home early,” Carl answers.

“Fuckin’ assholes.” Negan can’t say he blames them, since he wasn’t going to have them do anything anyway, but he’s not exactly okay with students skipping classes. “I guess it’s just us, then,” he mutters. “If you got homework or some shit to do, work on it. It’s not like we have anything else to fuckin’ do.”

“Can we get hall passes out?” one of Carl’s friends asks.

“Where?”

The friend looks to Carl for him to take over, since he’s friendlier with Negan. “There a storage room beside the gym with old equipment. We just hang out in there sometimes,” Carl explains.

Negan lets out a huff. “I’m not gonna let you guys go there unsupervised to play grabass or what-the-fuck-ever. Who the fuck do you think I am?”

The other kids look embarrassed, but not Carl. “We mostly just play ping pong or fuck around with the tennis rackets.”

“First of all, language,” he starts. “Your balls haven’t been descended long enough for you to earn the right to say ‘fuck’. And secondly, there’s a fuckin’ ping pong table?”

“Yeah,” Carl answers. “It’s old. They never pull it out for anything.”

One of the girls pipes up. “My mom said they had a table tennis club in the nineties. I think it’s from that time.”

Negan suddenly stands, his mind made up. “Alright. We’re headed to this fuckin’ place. Lead the way.”

Carl and the five other kids take Negan to the room they were talking about. It’s tucked away behind the stage and it’s obviously the graveyard for old sports equipment and sets/props for the drama club. Near the center of the room sits a well worn ping pong table with balls and paddles sitting on top of it.

“Shit yeah!” Negan walks over to the table and picks out the least broken paddle. “Who’s first?”

The kids look around at each other, a bit confused.

“This is a fuckin’ tournament,” Negan provides. “Someone step up!”

“What do we get if we win?” one of the students asks.

“A hundred bucks if any of you fuckers can beat me,” Negan replies with all the confidence in the world.

“I’m in,” one of the boys says as he picks up another paddle.

The table is cleared and the game gets underway. Of course, Negan wipes the floor with the kid. Easily. The boy doesn’t get a single point before Negan gets to eleven. Carl tries next and has his ass handed to him as well. The two girls in the group go next, though they’re no match for Negan. As the last of the boys fail as well, Negan lets out a laugh.

“I still fuckin’ got it!” he says with a twirl of his paddle.

Carl lets out a scoff. “You failed to mention that you’re really good at this. It’s not exactly fair.”

“It’s not like I’m taking your money, kid. Besides, this was much more fun than sitting on our asses in that classroom.”

Despite the kids having lost their games, they do agree that it was better than having a study hall.

“You should start up the table tennis club again, Mr. Negan,” one of the girls comments.

He doesn’t correct the girl to just call him ‘Negan’, but instead, gives her statement a thought. “Would anyone join?” he asks to the group. “I know you kids only care about your fuckin’ snapchats or what-the-fuck-ever.”

Carl shrugs a little. “I’d join.”

His two friends nod, too. Then, the girls.

“I could use another extra curricular,” one of the girls says.

A slow smile spreads across Negan’s face. He would love the chance to coach an actual sport here. Their baseball coach, unfortunately, has no plans of quitting any time soon, so that was never an option. But this? Even if it’s not an official competitive sport at the school, it would still be fun for Negan.

“You know what?” Negan starts. “I’m gonna talk to Principal Delaney. See if I can’t get this shit started. If I get a sign up sheet posted, you guys spread it around. Tell everyone how fuckin’ fun this shit is.”

As soon as the dismissal bell rings, Negan heads off to find Jo Delaney. He finds her in the hallway heading to her office and quickly tells her his intentions.

“Ping pong?” she questions.

“Yeah. Table tennis. It’s a fuckin’ sport.”

She chuckles. “I know it is. But why ping pong?”

Negan shrugs. “Apparently, this school used to have a table tennis club. Besides, it gives me a chance to actually coach something. And it gives some of these kids an opportunity to join something. You know, for their college applications and shit.”

Jo thinks it over. “You’re probably not going to get any money for this,” she comments.

“I’ll raise some,” Negan responds.

“I don’t have a problem with it, I suppose. Just make sure you get permission slips from all the kids that are interested.” She looks at him skeptically. “ If there are any interested.”

“You doubt me, but I’m gonna make it work,” he says with a smirk, then turns to walk away. “Just you see.”

Before Negan leaves for the day, he makes sure to pin up some sign up sheets to various bulletin boards around the school, hoping that there would be some interest in his little club so he can prove Jo wrong. Just to make sure that happens, he sends off a text to Rick, asking him to have Carl talk to all his friends about signing up.

When Negan gets home, Chuck can see the smile on his face.

“Good day?” she asks as she walks over to greet him.

“I’m starting up a table tennis club,” he explains casually.

She raises her eyebrows. “Table tennis club? Is that a thing?”

“It is now.” He plops himself down on the couch and pulls his phone out. “You mind if I buy a ping pong table and set it up in the garage?” he asks as he already searches for one on amazon.

“No.” She giggles as she sits down beside him. “This club is going to meet in our garage?”

“Yeah. I figured no one else would give us any fuckin’ space. Doubt they’ll let us use the gym.” He looks up from his phone at her. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” she answers with a smile. “That’s fine.”

He goes back to his phone, finalizing his order before looking back up to Chuck’s smiling face. “What?”

She shrugs. “Nothing.”

“What?” he asks again.

“I like seeing you excited about your students. It’s cute.”

“I’m not cute.”

“You’re cute,” she insists.

He suddenly pulls her into his lap and buries his nose into her neck, taking a deep breath and letting out a groan. As he starts to harden underneath Chuck, he whispers in her ear, “That feel cute to you?”

She laughs. “You know what, it actually does.”

He flips them around, pinning her underneath him. “I’ll show you cute,” he growls.

She knows he’s just playing around, so she continues with the joke. “You’re so adorable!” As he kisses her neck, she giggles. “Like a little kitten.” Once his kisses turn more passionate, her giggles turn to moans automatically.

“That’s what I fuckin’ thought,” he says with a chuckle.

#the glasswing butterfly #writehavoc the Glasswing Butterfly #writehavoc writes #negan #negan x oc #alpha negan #negan fanfiction #negan x ofc #negan x original female character #negans thirst squad #negan/original female character #negan / oc #negan / ofc #negan / original female character #The Walking Dead #The Walking Dead AU #the walking dead fanfiction

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buckysforeverprincess · 5 years

Text

What Do You Want From Me? Ch 13

Lance x Reader, OMC Jase, OFC Claire

Words: 3510

Warnings: Language

A/N: There’s a lot going on in this chapter. Enjoy!

October…

“Claire, I can do this on my own!” She's standing behind you straightening out your dress. Since your belly is getting bigger it's getting slightly harder to do simple things. Claire had offered to help your get situated for the evening ahead of you and you reluctantly let her help, not sure as to why you wanted to endure this kind of torture.

She turns you around and looks you over making sure everything's in place. “I just want to make sure you're perfect this evening!” Claire squeaks and is like a kid in a candy store.

“Claire, stop. I know what's happening. No one can keep a secret and it's been expected since we started dating…especially with the arrival of the babies.”

“You mean Lance's babies.” Her response is snarky, and you really want to slap the privilege out of her.

“We’ve been over this before, I will not discuss him with you.” You gave her a look of anger and dominance.

Claire rolls her eyes and shakes her head but decides to concede to your words. “Fine. Let's enjoy the show!”

You walk out of the bedroom and down the stairs to the dining hall. There's several guests you don't even know and quite honestly didn't care too. This really was not your idea of fun, but you'd have to get used to it. If not now, when?

“Darling!” Jase exclaimed, leaving his aunts side to walk over to you.

“Jase.” You smiled at him and placed a kiss on his cheek.

“This is too much isn't it?” He asked you, knowing how you felt about too many people in a small space.

“It's fine, Jase. I know this is more for your aunt than anything else.”

Jase could sense your unease with the whole evening. “If you want, we could leave. I mean...you already know what I'm about to do, so we could go and do it in a more private setting?”

You appreciated the gesture. Knowing he was open to going somewhere more intimate meant the world to you, but there was no escape at this point. “No, honey. Let's just do this for her, and then we'll go home and have our own celebration.” You smirk at him and he kisses you softly.

“Let's do this, shall we?” He grabs your hand and walks you to the center of the room.

The governor starts by welcoming the guests and thanking them for coming out. He speaks about Jase and raising him from a little boy to the man he is now. You tuned out at some point and started looking around the room. Claire is grinning at you and giving you two thumbs up in approval. Her constant presence is starting to annoy you more as of late. You desperately need a break for sanity's sake before you deliver these twins in prison.

You're brought from your thoughts by Jase’s touch. He moves himself and is now facing in front of you with a big bright smile.

“Y/N. I know we haven't been together long, and I know we come from very different worlds. I never imagined I'd be here at this moment, about to pledge my love and devotion to another woman until I met you. You've made me happier in these last six months, than anyone else I've ever met. I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy and making a wonderful home for our children. I know we've done things backwards, but I wouldn't have it any other way.”

Jase gets down on one knee and pulls out a ring. You can't help smiling at him and beaming with happiness. Even though you knew this was happening it still felt like a moment from a fairy tale.

Jase looks into your eye as he opens the box with the ring inside. “Y/N, will you marry me?”

“How about a pumpkin?” Lance asked you.

“Just because I look like a pumpkin, doesn't mean I want to pass out candy as one!”

He laughed at you and moved on to another costume. The two of you were shopping for Halloween decorations and possible costume ideas. The plan was to pass out candy at his home, since you lived in a penthouse with Jase and there we hardly any kids in the building.

“What are you thinking about going as?” Lance was looking at all the Marvel character costumes.

He holds out a red, white, and blue shield in your direction. “What about Captain America?”

You laugh and the ridiculous pose he’s making while holding the shield. “I'm actually thinking you're more of a Bucky Barnes than a Cap. You're too much of an asshole to be the symbol of righteousness!”

The two of you laughed hysterically and he concedes defeat. “Ok, ok…maybe Iron Man? I mean, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. I could pull that off!”

You nod your head in agreement. “Yes! Your douchebag skills and fuckery make you a good candidate for Tony Stark. I'm game, but you really don't need a costume to be a dick!”

Lance smiles and grabs the ridiculous outfit and walks over to you. “What about you? Find anything?”

You shrug your shoulders, “I'm fat! I won't look right!”

He chuckles at you and places his hand on your belly, “sweetheart, there are two perfectly beautiful babies making a temporary home in your belly. Soon they'll be out, and your belly will be gone and you'll become a hot mom I'd like to fuck!” He starts laughing, and you punch him his arm.

“You guys are so cute!” There’s an older lady in the aisle with you.

Lance grabs your hand and smiles at the woman, “isn't she adorable?”

The lady nods her head, “you two make a cute couple.”

Lance is enjoying every second of this, “we hope we make cute babies too!” He puts his hand on your belly, and the woman coos.

“Well you sure are a good looking young lad, I'm sure it'll look just like you if it's a boy!”

Lance just can't help but continue, he gets closer and leans into the woman. “Shhh! Don't tell anyone...but we got a really great deal. Two for the price of one!”

The lady shows a look of surprise, and you can't help but laugh at them both.

“As cute as you both are, you'll make great parents. My dear, you should be a pumpkin for Halloween!”

“So I've been told.” You smirk at Lance, who just shrugs his shoulders back at you.

“Well, good luck with your babies. Two will keep you very busy. You got a nice, good looking man to take care of ya, don't let him go!” She smiles at you before walking off through the store.

Your face morphs into alight disappointment. Too bad I'm engaged to someone else.

“You just had to make it weird?”

Lance laughs at your pouty face, “I was just having fun. She was cute.” He grabs your hand and walks you up to pay for your items.

Maybe she'll adopt you, or at least she can be your sugar momma.”

Lance laughs at your comment. “Awww, jealous of my skills on the elderly? Afraid I might replace you?”

You shake your head and laugh. “Of course not! At least not yet. I'm still fairly young, and with you being older, I'll never reach cougar status. I don't think you'll replace me for at least ten more years.”

Lance bites his lips and smiles at you. “I'll never replace you.” He leans in and presses a soft kiss to your lips.

“Lance!” You push him off you and give him a dirty look.

“I'm sorry! I know I'm not supposed to, alright? It's just…why are you even marrying him?”

You've thought a lot about that very same question. “Not here, Tucker…we'll talk at home.”

He raises an eyebrow at the word ‘home’ but says nothing.

The two of you grabbed take out and ended up back at Lance's house sitting on the couch watching Netflix. You can see the building frustration carry over from the conversation earlier and you know he wants to address it.

You grab for the remote and pause the tv. “Talk!” You demand as you turn and face him.

“Why? Why are you marrying him?” He looks at you in disbelief.

“Lance, we talked about this…”

“No, you talked about it, while I stayed quiet and listened. I’m sorry to have to say this, but I don’t think he’s right for you, and I’m pretty sure he’s not in love with you!” Lance removes himself from the couch and is pacing around in front of you.

“He asked me to marry him, I think he loves me!” You're defending your absent fiancé to a man that you know is in love with you.

“No, he doesn't! You're here more than at home with him, you're practically living here now! He's always ‘working’, and when's the last time he went to an appointment with you? Huh? I seem to remember going to the last ultrasound with you. I got to see those babies and the man who's supposed to be their father, who you're marrying, is continually out of the picture! So, I ask you again, why are you marrying him?” He begins to stare hard at you.

“Because of you!” You scream at Lance in a fit of emotions. “Lance Tucker doesn't do family life! You never wanted it, so why would you now? You only want me because another man has me. So, I break things off with Jase and then what? I come playhouse with you until you get bored and decide we cramp your style? Discard us like yesterday's trash? I can't do that Lance! I have to think about the babies!”

Lance has stopped pacing and looks shocked at your words. “Is that really what you think of me? All this time we've spent together, and that's what you think? I've gone shopping with you, taken you to dinner, gone to the ultrasound with you, hell, where did you sleep last night?! Curled up with me in my bed! I'm pretty sure my hand has been on your belly more than your fiancé, and yet you think I'm playing a game?! Unbelievable!” He runs his hands through his hair in frustration.

“Tell me Lance...what if these were your babies? What then? Huh? I walk up to you and say ‘Lance, we're pregnant.’ How do you respond?” You ask him and wait for his response.

He just stands there silent. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

Again, speechless.

“That's why Lance.” You're much calmer now. “When Maggie told you she was pregnant, you panicked. Swore you weren't the father and had a long drawn out court battle. After everything that happened we stood there in the same kitchen we had sex in, and you told me you would never want a family. That's why I can't. Because deep down, you don't want that, and I won't make you change for me.” You stand up from the couch, “I love you too much to change you.”

You grab your purse, phone, and keys and walk back over to Lance and place a kiss to his cheek. “I'll call you tomorrow.”

You move from in front of him and make your way to the door. “Lance…” you said to him as you opened the door. He's looking at you like a lost puppy. “Today, I love you more than Jase...I just wanted you to know.” He nods his head and gives you a forced smile, and watches you walk out.

“I'm so shocked you text me!” Claire says sitting across from you at the little corner deli. “I was sure you hated me and wouldn’t speak to me again” The woman frowns at you.

“I'm pretty certain I do indeed hate you, but I needed someone to talk to and going through my phone, you were the only one to respond.” Your tone dry, and she just shrugs at you.

“So, what up? What’s weighing so heave on your mind that you have to use me as a last resort?”

“I'm going to end things with Jase.” You tell her and the look on her face looks like a raging bull instead of shock and awe.

“Why would you do that, you're about to get married!” She looks like she wants to freak out on you.

“Because Claire, I have to come clean with Lance. He has a right to know he's going to be a father and I just can’t keep this up anymore.” You put your head in your hands and sink into the table.

“And what do you think will happen?” Claire has raised her voice. “He’ll hate you for not telling him. You know how much he wanted to prove he wasn't the father of Maggie's baby, he'll do the opposite to you! He'll have you in court trying to take them away from you because he'll think you won't let him see them. You won't have Lance or those babies, is that what you want?”

Maybe she had a point. Lance will be furious when he finds out you lied. Would he go to that extreme, though?

“You're suggesting I just keep up with the lie and ruin not just Lance’s life, but Jase and the babies as well?”

“Yes!” She responds harshly.

“Jesus, why do I even bother? I'm leaving…I need to go find Lance!” You grab your things and leave her yet again for the umpteenth time.

Behind you something was happening, but you had no idea what. Claire watches you leave and pulls out her phone, dialing a stored number.

“Claire, what the hell?” The male says on the other end.

“Where are you? You better not be with that whore I told you to dump weeks ago!” She's practically yelling through the phone.

“What do you want?” The man asks sternly.

“Move the wedding up!” She demands of him.

“Why, beginning of December isn't good enough for you?” He responds sarcastically.

“Not when she's going to find Lance and tell him the truth! I told you not to let her spend time with him, but of course you'd fuck up a wet dream! Now fix this Jase or I'll make sure you never see partner at that firm and everyone will know about your extracurricular dominant activities. That won't look good for your uncle’s re-election campaign!”

Jase huffs, irritated through the phone. “What do you want me to do?”

“Call her now before she goes to him. Tell her to meet you and move up the wedding! I'll have my own talk with Lance Tucker…he's overdue for a reality check!”

Jase is less than happy at the demands being dictated to him by the tyrant, but he knew what he signed up for when he agreed to this in the first place. “Fine, I'll call her. You do know, this is going to end very badly. You're playing with too many lives, just to get back at one!”

Claire laughs at him through the phone. “All I care about is getting what I want from Tucker! It's not my fault her dumb ass got pregnant! Now call her!” She hangs the phone up on him.

Jase stares at the phone for a few minutes before dialing Y/N to ask her to meet.

“Hey!” You happily greet your fiancé.

“Hello gorgeous! What are you doing right now because I'd love to see you.”

“Well I was headed over to see Lance, but I could come to you instead?”

Maybe he'd decline, and you could still go talk to Tucker.

“Great, I'm at the office! Just come in when you get here. I'd like to talk about the wedding!” Jase sounded unusually upbeat. This was a whole level of weird for him.

“Ok, I'll be there soon.”

Hanging up the phone, you made a few turns, and went back into the direction of Jase's office.

Guess the conversation with Lance would just have to wait for another day.

Lance arrives at the posh restaurant and gives the host his name. She grabs a menu and takes him towards the back to a table where the other guest is already seated.

“Claire Baxter…what do you want?” He's practically dismissing her, and she just smirks at him.

“Have a seat Tucker, we have much to discuss.” He shakes his head at her but sits down anyway.

Lance doesn't like her. Never has. She was a one nighter that wanted more, and he was never inclined to give that to her. She may have been beautiful on the outside, but inside she was Gollum, or maybe an Orc. She had looks, but the sex was horrible, and he knows she's used to getting what she wants. He hates high class pussy.

“I'll ask you again, what do you want? What was so important that I had to come meet you here? And how the fuck did you get my number? Stalker much?” Lance is giving her his best ass hole face, showing no emotion. He knows how she works and he'll be damned if he gives in.

“Y/N Y/L/N.” Those are the only two words she says to him.

“What about her?” Lance senses this is a cat and mouse game, and he has no interest in playing it.

“What does she mean to you?” Claire smiles at him, but it's not a nice smile. It's a ‘I know more than you’ smile and he’s already sick of her bull shit.

“She's a friend and former employee. But you already knew that, so why the interrogation?” He takes a sip of the water in front of him trying not to show how uncomfortable he is with Claire bringing her up.

“She's more than a friend, isn't she?” She raises her eyebrows and takes a sip of her wine.

“I guess I don't understand what you want to know or even why I'm here. So, I'm not answering anything until you tell me the reason for the Spanish Inquisition.” Lance sits back and crosses his arms to his chest.

“Fine…but I liked my way better.” Claire places her arms on the table and leans in towards him. “I'm going to tell you a story…stop me if you've heard it. There once was a girl, sweet and innocent. She moved here from Boston after graduation and made a life for herself. Things were going well, but she had a disagreement with an employer and was out of a job. She needed something so badly that she took the offer from an agent and became the PA of a world class asshole. Sound familiar?” She asks with a smirk.

“I'm intrigued…keep going.” Lance responds.

“She worked very hard for him, but he was still a world class fuckboy! She did everything he wanted, including kick out his one-night stands, all the while, falling deeply in love with the man. One day after three years of employment, she makes a horrible mistake. For some reason, they had sex…shocker! He fucks up, of course! And she ends up dating another man. You sure you haven't heard this one?” She's taunting him now.

“Get to the point!” He's becoming increasingly irritated.

“Where was I? Oh yes, she starts dating another guy. Then, she finds out she's pregnant! Scandal! But guess what? It's not the boyfriends! Eek!”

Lance’s breathing has increased and his face is getting red. “Finish…the fucking...story, now Claire!” He says through gritted teeth.

“She promised the boyfriend she wouldn't tell the father, but the pathetic things is…he's been around almost the entire time! Gasp! You sure you don't this one?”

“Fuck you Claire!” Lance slams his fist onto the table. “She wouldn't do that to me!” He says angrily.

“Oh, but she has. See...I hate you...maybe, and I may have made sure you never have anything to do with her or those babies. Who do you think introduced her to Jase? I'm the conductor of this train, and it's about to leave the station. They're getting married sooner than expected. You can kiss her goodbye! This is what happens when you reject me! I told you you'd regret it, and Y/N played perfectly in my hand!”

Claire starts to laugh at him, and he has clearly had enough. He grabs his glass of water and throws it in her face.

“Listen here bitch! If all of this is because I rejected you years ago then you don't deserve the life you're living! I may be an asshole, but your fucking with kids…my kids to be exact, and I'll be damned if you deny me the right to be in their lives. Good job, cunt! You just made me your worst enemy! Trust me bitch, you don’t want to fuck with me!” Lance gets up and leaves the restaurant.

Claire wipes the water from her face with her napkin. “But I already have!”

#lance tucker #lance the fucker tucker #lance tucker x reader #lance tucker fanfiction #the bronze au #the bronze #pa!reader

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write-havoc · 6 years

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This Is How I Disappear Ch. 3

Summary: A girl named Chuck finds herself in the exact place she doesn't want to be, living with violent men in a desolate nursing home. After her former gym teacher finds her, will he be the savior she was looking for?

Fandom: The Walking Dead AU

Pairing: Negan/Original Female Character

Status: Completed (story continues in The Flame Is Gone, The Fire Remains)

Contains: swearing, violence, sexual assault, blood, smut

Readers 18+ of age only

Masterlists in my bio

Simon leads Chuck to the stairwell and they begin to descend. He pushes Chuck gently through the first floor doors upon reaching the bottom and they make their way through the meandering halls to a back stairwell that leads to the basement, silent the whole way.

“What happened, Chuck? What did you do, kiddo? Why is Negan punishing you?” Simon breaks the silence as they approach several metal doors lining a long, dark hallway.

“It… doesn't matter. I just… want to get this over with, please.”

Simon walks to one of the doors begrudgingly, pulls out a key, and opens it up. The room is small, just slightly bigger than a broom closet and completely stark except for a bucket in one corner.

This should be interesting. I don't really know what I was expecting, but…

“Get in.” Simon motions into the cell and she obeys.

“How long will I-“

He closes the door without another word.

I guess that's part of the punishment, not knowing how long I'll be in here. This might not be so bad, I mean, I don't mind being alone. Sure, it's dark and uncomfortable, but it's not exactly torturous, is it? I guess I’m glad I’m not on “fence duty”.

I wonder what’s the longest someone has stayed in here. And do different infractions have different lengths of punishment? Like, “five days for stealing, one for not kneeling fast enough, SEVENTY-FIVE FOR FLIRTING WITH WIFE NUMBER THREE!”

She makes herself giggle with her internal Negan impression, but it fades quickly. She realizes that she must be getting delirious from lack of sleep. She paces around a bit, letting the gravity of her situation sink in, and then sits down on the cold concrete.

Hmm. Yup. This is going to get uncomfortable really quickly. I wish I had put on a sweater today. I could use it as a pillow. Or blanket. It's actually kinda cold in here. Jeez, I'm already complaining and I've only been in here, what, three minutes?

I need to keep my mind occupied. Think of something. I wonder what Negan’s men are doing at Rolling Acres. Maybe they'll plant more crops. There's room for it there. Of raise animals. They might be more successful than I was at keeping them. I wonder how many people Negan has stationed there. Would someone live in my old room? Sleep on that bed… Okay, I don't want to think about that.

A song, maybe. I wonder if people are still making music out there. God, I would love to play something again. I probably can here. The fences are far enough away that the dead won't be attracted by it. I was always so afraid to play before. Even at Rolling Acres. I wish I had my mom’s old guitar. It wasn't in the house when I went back there to see if she was…

I miss her so much. I wonder what she would tell me to do now. She always knew just what to say to make me feel better…

——— Chuck’s POV ———

— 7 years ago —

“You okay, sweetie? The doctor said you can take your pain pills every four hours. You should be about due for some.” My mom is staring at me from the other side of the couch, knitting a blanket for her work friend’s daughter who’s pregnant. The tv is playing an episode of Grey’s Anatomy. I never really liked that show, but my mom absolutely loves it.

“Oh. No. I'm okay. I can hold off on the drugs for a while,” I’m not really in too much pain at the moment. I have my cast left foot propped up on our ottoman, with a few pillows underneath it for extra comfort. I can't believe that I broke my ankle going down two stairs on our porch! What kind of a klutz does that? Ruined my whole weekend. Now I have to go into school tomorrow and try to hobble around to all of my classes. I haven't even really gotten the hang of these crutches, yet.

Ugh. And now I'm gonna have to talk to Coach Negan about how I can participate in gym. I can't exactly run, or jog, or do anything we’re doing in that class. And I need the gym credits to graduate. Stupid me didn't get them out of the way early, so now I have gym class every day of my senior year to make them up.

“You sure you're okay? You're making a weird face.”

“I'm just anxious about tomorrow. I'm going to have to talk to your favorite teacher about an alternate lesson plan, considering my condition.” I lift up my left leg and wave my cast in the air as much as I can.

“Who's my favorite teacher?” My mom giggles a bit and I give her the “really?” face.

“Coach Negan.”

“Mmmm.” She nods. “Oh yeah. Coach Negan. He's so hot.” She fans herself to hammer her point in.

“Mom! Don't lust after him so much! It's weird… and gross.”

“Come on! You have to see that he's gorgeous.”

“Well, yeah, I have eyes,” I agree. He is a very handsome man. “He's just… my teacher. I can't look at him that way.”

“No, you're right. You shouldn't look at him like that, sweetie. Stay away from older men. Especially ruggedly handsome older men. Who have that bad boy thing going for them. And dimples.”

“Mom! Stop!” I exclaim, trying to stifle a giggle.

She laughs. “I'm just teasing!” She leans over and hits my arm playfully. “Well, why are you dreading having to talk to Professor HotBody about class? Is he an asshole or something. I bet he is. The really handsome ones usually are.”

“Not really. Well, I mean… yeah, he kinda is, but not to me. He’s only mean to the kids who are... you know, douchebags.”

“Why are you so anxious, then? He'll understand that you can't participate. I'm sure he'll work with you.”

“Yeah. I know that. I'm sure I'm not the first kid to break a bone. It's just that… just being around Negan makes me really nervous. I hate talking to him. It always gives me the hiccups.”

“Aww! It's always so adorable when you hiccup!”

“No, it isn't, mom. It's embarrassing and makes me want to die.” I let out a dramatic sigh as she makes an incredulous noise. My mom doesn't really understand what it's like to be awkward and quiet. She's perfectly comfortable around people. She never worries that she'll look stupid or do the wrong thing. “You've never really talked to him, so you don't know what he's like. He's just so…” I gesture my hands, trying to think of the right word, “ intense. He's super confident. And loud. And he swears all the time. He also talks with his whole body.” I throw my arms out and gesticulate wildly. It makes my mom laugh. “Being around people like that just makes me nervous. You know I'm weird like that. I didn't get your ‘normal people’ genes. I got dad’s awkward ones.”

“Well, you'll just have to think out exactly what you want to say to him and go over that a few times. Then you won't be scrambling to think of what to say when you're in front of him.”

“Yeah. I think I'll do that. His prep period is the same as my study hall, so I think I'll talk to him then. I don't want to interrupt one of his classes, or anything. And that’s the period right before my gym class, too, so it'll work out perfectly.”

“There you go! No need to worry.”

———

*Knock Knock Knock*

“ Yeah ?” comes Negan’s voice from inside the room.

Okay, Chuck. Just open his door and go through the speech you have memorized. It'll be fine.

“Hi, Coach,” I say after I open his door. He is seated behind his desk going through papers of some sort.

He looks down my leg at my cast. “Holy shit, Chuck. What did you do? Break your foot off in someone’s ass?” He laughs hard at his own joke.

I chuckle a bit. It’s kinda funny. “Uh, no. I tripped on my porch stairs like an idiot.” I hobble awkwardly around to sit in the chair in front of his desk, leaning my crutches on the chair beside me. “But, uh, that's why I'm here. I needed to talk to you about gym class. I can't participate normally, so I thought that, maybe, I could write reports on a sport… or an athlete, or anything you want, really. I could do a report for every class to make up credit-“

“Fuck that shit,” he interjects.

“Wha-“

“I didn't become a gym teacher so I could read fuckin’ reports. No offense, kid, but I'd rather have my nutsack ripped off by a chimpanzee than read fuckin’ book reports about the history of baseball or some shit.”

“I, uh..” *hiccup*

Ugh. Great. I really did not expect him to reject my idea. Now I'm all flustered.

“Look, you're a good kid. You're not a little motherfucker like most of the rest of them. What grade do I usually give you? A?”

“Uh, y-yeah.”

“Congrats. You get a fuckin’ A this term.”

*hiccup*

He starts to laugh at me. Ugh! “The fuck? You got the hiccups now?”

Yes, Negan. I have the stupid hiccups because I'm a crazy person and can't have a simple conversation without my body breaking down into a bundle of anxiousness! Of course, I never would say that out loud, so I just nod.

“Just hold your fuckin’ breath and get rid of them.”

I do as he said and my hiccups go away. Wow. That actually works. Good to know.

“So… what do you want me to do during class?”

“Fuck if I care.” He thinks about it for a second while he looks at me. “Wait… you're fuckin’ right. If people see you doing fuck all and still passing the class, I'll probably get shit for it.” He leans back in his chair with a perplexed expression on his face. He casts his gaze down to the papers on his desk and a slow smile creeps onto his face. “You know much about football?”

“Um. I know that they score touchdowns and that the quarterback throws the ball…” I shrug. That really is about everything I know. I'm not exactly the sporty type.

“Do you know anything about fantasy football?”

“I've watched The League a few times…?” I give him a little shrug, not really knowing what he’s wanting from me.

“Hmm. Well here's what we're gonna do. You'll come here to my office, this period and we're gonna work on my lineup and shit.” He shuffles the papers around and picks one up that has a bunch of names and scribbles beside them. He puts it in front of me to look at. “This is my fuckin’ team. I need you to look all these people up and tell me every-fuckin’-thing about them. What position they play. Their performances in past games. Whether they started or not. What the fuck is going on in their personal lives. Any fuckin’ shit that might say how they'll play in the next game. Got it?”

“Uh… Yeah. I can do that.” I think.

“I'm gonna take the shit you give me and determine who I'm going to play in that week’s game. If the players I pick actually play and do fuckin’ well, then I get points. If I get more points than anyone else in my league, then I fuckin' win the season. That's fantasy football.”

“That makes sense… I guess.”

“Good. You can start by organizing all this shit I have here.”

“Okay…”

“I'll okay this all with the principal later today. It should be no problem. I'm still teaching you about a fuckin' sport after all.”

That's how it goes for a few classes. I would do his research on whatever guys he wants me to and I would bring it to him, all organized. He'd pick out his players and fix his lineup for the week. It didn't take Negan too long to realize that this work doesn’t exactly fill the entire period. Especially five days a week.

“Well, fuck. I didn't think this through. Now I feel responsible for educating you and shit for the whole period and keeping you fucking occupied.”

“Uh. I guess I can just read quietly while you do your work…”

“You know how to play chess?” he asks suddenly.

“…Yeah. I can play.” Why is he asking? That's… random.

He stands up and walks to a cupboard on his wall. He rummages around until he produces a wooden box. “Good. I haven't played in fucking forever. No one learns how to play fucking chess anymore.” He sets the box down on the desk and takes his seat. The board is one of the kind that folds up and contains all the pieces inside. He opens it up, spilling the pieces on his desk. The two of us scoop up our pieces and begin to set them on the board.

“Oh, uh… I'm not very good, I don't think.” Why did I say that? I know I am pretty good at chess. Not that I've played recently. I used to play with my mom all the time. And my dad. When I was a kid. Before he died.

“It'll be a short game, then.”

We each take our turns, carefully making sure not to make any mistakes. I see his expression change after a few turns, from a smile to a tight frown. He is deep in thought with each move of the pieces. I admit, he is great at chess. I didn't really expect him to be.

“Checkmate,” Negan says, finally letting his grin back on his face.

“Good game, Coach.” I hold out my hand to shake his. That is just good sportsmanship. My dad would be proud.

“Why the fuck did you tell me you weren't very good?” he asks as he shakes my hand. “I'm fuckin’ amazing at chess and I just barely won.”

I shrug, not really knowing what to say. “I don't know…”

“Don't fuckin’ do that. Downplay yourself. If you’re fuckin’ good at something, own that shit.”

“I, uh. Okay... I will.”

The bell rings signaling the end of the period. Thank god. That seemed like it was going to turn into an awkward “Do you have self esteem issues?” conversation. No, thank you. I don't need the pamphlet… again. I gather up my things and leave quickly, or as quickly as I can on my crutches, giving Negan a small wave as I pass through the doorway.

After a few weeks, I actually begin to get comfortable around Negan. We talk about football and the league as we play chess during our class time. Often, though, our conversations go to more everyday things and we get to know each other pretty well.

“There is no way you were a nerd in high school!” I exclaim between giggles.

“I didn't say I was a nerd in high school, I said a was a nerdy fuckin’ kid. I was a chubby fuck when I was little. My family was poor as fuck, too, so I had no friends. Pretty much all I ever did was read all those same fantasy books you read now and watch a ton of sci-fi shit. And play chess with my mom.

“No way! You were fat nerd?!” I giggle. The thought of him being anything but the way he is now is just funny to me.

“Fuck yeah, I was. Then I switched schools and shot up 6 inches when I was fourteen. And started playing baseball. That helped with the whole fuckin’ popularity thing.”

“So you went from nerd to jock just like that?”

“I never really stopped being a nerd.” He pauses. “But don't tell a fuckin’ soul that, Chuck.” He points at me and gives me a stern look.

“I don't believe you! Okay, okay. Favorite character from Lord of the Rings?”

“Aragorn. He's a badass!”

“Uh. What's the name of the ship from Alien?”

“Oh shit. Uh. Uh... Nostromo!” He snaps his fingers as he comes up with the name.

“Okay. Ah! What's this from, ‘Of all the souls I have encountered in my travels, his was the most human.’?”

“Really? Fucking Wrath of Khan. Everyone knows that!”

“Ooooh.” I make a sarcastically impressed face. “Okay. Um… ‘All those moments will be lost, in time, like tears in rain.’”

“Blade Runner. Next.”

“‘Put on the glasses!’”

He laughs. “They Live! I'm surprised you fucking know that one!”

“It's a classic! Okay, okay. Oooh, I know! You'll get this one. ‘Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal.’”

“Hmm.” He thinks for a moment. “Nope. Don't know that one.”

“What?! That's from Firefly!”

“Never heard of it.”

“Oh my god! It's amazing! It was a tv show but it only had one season. But it was soooo good. You should look it up. It has hookers in it. You'll like it.” I laugh at my own joke.

“Ha ha, Chuck. Very funny,” he says sarcastically. “I shouldn't let you fuckin' talk to me like that, you know.” He points at me as I move my bishop.

“Checkmate!” I exclaim.

“Fuck!” He snaps his gaze to the board. “You distracted me with talk of hookers!”

———

We're meeting in the library now.

I read the note on Negan's door. Really, Negan? I gotta hobble all the way to the library now? You couldn’t’ve told me any earlier?

I make my way to the library as fast as I can, but still arrive after the final bell. No one stops me in the halls anymore, though, because of my crutches. Negan is waiting for me outside the library doors as I turn the corner.

“This way.” I follow him to a table in the far corner of the library. The chess board is already set up and waiting for us. We take our seats and began to play.

“Why are we meeting here instead of your office?”

“Because I fucking said so.”

Jeez. He's in a mood. I hate when he's cranky. It puts me on edge. He goes to move his pawn and I notice that his knuckles are all cut up and bruised.

“What happened to your hand?”

“I fucked it up.” He snaps back.

Okay. No conversation this time.

Or the next time.

Or the time after that.

He hasn’t been himself for a few days. Something is up with him, but I don’t know what. It takes a week of completely silent chess matches before things go back to normal… ish. We still meet in the library, but Negan is back to his old self, it seems. I don’t ask what happened and he doesn’t tell.

“I'm getting my cast off next week, so I guess this will be one of our last games.”

“Why?”

I’m confused at his response. “Why am I getting my cast off?”

“Don’t be a smartass. Why would we stop playing?” he clarifies.

“Well, I figured I'd go back to my regular gym class.”

“This period is still free for both of us. Why does you going back to gym mean that we have to fucking stop playing chess this period?”

“I guess it doesn't, really.”

“Good. Because I think I need to kick your ass a few more fucking times to get ahead of you on wins.”

“You're keeping count?”

“You're not?” He caught me. I am keeping count. And I’m ahead by four games.

“You can't just let me be ahead?”

“Fuck, no! There's no way I'll let you graduate holding that shit over my head.”

“We're going to play the rest of the year then?”

“What, are you that bored of me?”

“No, of course not. I just always thought you were biding your time until you could be rid of me.”

“Really? You think I'm that much of an asshole?”

“No. I didn't mean it like that.” Did I hurt his feelings? I didn't know that was possible.

“I told you when we fucking started that I thought you were a good kid. And I haven't played chess like this since fuckin’ college.”

“Thank you, I think. That's a compliment, right?”

“Well, I meant it as one, so you're fucking welcome.” He smirks at me, but it quickly turns into a frown. “The fuck you lookin’ at, Brandon! ” Negan yells as he shifts his gaze to look behind me. I turn my head to see a boy from my class looking our way.

“Nothing, sir. ” He stands there for a few moments then leaves. That’s weird. I don’t really know what to make of it.

“Uh. What was that all about?”

“Don't worry about it.” Okay. That's all the info I'll get out of him. I know that tone.

“His name is Brendon, you know-”

“I know what his fuckin’ name is. I just hate that kid. Stay away from him, okay? He's a douchebag.”

I laugh a little bit at how Negan is talking about another student. He’s not wrong, though, about him being a douche. I hate that kid, too. He always harasses me, saying how good I look all the time just to tease me.

Negan rubs his beard and looks a bit uncomfortable. Maybe he’s not exactly back to his old self like I thought. “You know I would never be inappropriate with you, right?” he says quickly, as if he really doesn’t want to say the words.

I’m taken aback at the sudden change in topic. I know that some of the kids joke with me about my “extracurriculars” so they say, with Negan, but I never thought they actually believed it or talked with anyone else about it. I wonder if that stuff got back to him and that's why he’s acting so strangely. That would make sense, actually. He’s probably just been trying to cover his back. A male teacher meeting with a female student alone in his office could seem suspicious. But if Negan were to have an affair with a student, I’m pretty sure I would be his last choice.

“Yeah, I know. I trust you. I know you would never do anything like that,” I say genuinely.

“Good.” He looks at me with a strange expression. Like he’s trying to read my mind to make sure I’m not lying.

“So… My mom wants to invite you and your wife over for dinner sometime.” I change the subject after a few tense moments because I really don’t want to dwell on that uncomfortable topic. I wasn't lying, though. My mom had been trying to get me to ask him over for dinner for a while. She said she wanted to thank him for being such a good teacher to me. I figured she just wanted to ogle him.

“Hmm.” He looks away, his expression becoming lighter as he looks back to me. “Yeah. I think we can come over on Thursday. Lucille will be fuckin’ happy. She loves meeting parents and shit. I fuckin’ hate it.”

“Well I'll be sure to tell my mom that.” We both laugh.

“I didn't mean your parents. You're one of the only kids I can fuckin’ stand. All the rest of those little douchebags were raised by fuckin’ big douchebags and I hate dealing with them. If your mom raised you right than she must be a pretty good woman.”

I laugh. My mom would probably love to hear him say that. “I should've had you write my college recommendations. ‘Chuck was possibly raised right and I can effin’ stand her’.” I make him laugh with my impression of him.

“You know, you can have a real smart fuckin’ mouth, sometimes.”

———

“Dinner was delicious, Diane,” Lucille says while delicately patting the corners of her mouth with her napkin. She is very beautiful. Her silky straight dark auburn hair falls just past her shoulders and complements her icy blue eyes perfectly. Her stylish clothing flatters her petite frame and highlights her femininity. And she is the exact opposite of Negan. Quiet. Polite. Poised. With an air of nobility about her. I bet her family had money growing up. I wonder how she got with Negan…

“Yeah. That was fuckin’ great. We’ll have to have you cook for us more fuckin’ often.” My mom laughs. I warned her not to be offended by Negan’s language. Not that she’s against swearing to begin with, but Negan’s style of cursing can be jarring.

“You're more than welcome any time. You've been so good to my daughter, Negan. You know, Chuck doesn't have many friends, so you taking an interest has been so good for her.”

“Oh my god, mom. I'm right here,” I say lowly. I know my face has to be bright red since my cheeks and ears are burning hot. My mom gives me a smile as if she didn't just embarrass me horribly.

“She's a good kid,” Negan says while looking at my mother. Okay, guys. I am still here.

“Yes. You're a very fine young lady and I'm sure your future will hold great things,” Lucille actually says to me, smiling warmly. She seems so amazing. No wonder Negan settled down with her. Jeez, she’s so perfect that I kinda wanna settle down with her.

“Well I think it's about time for us to get fuckin’ going. Ready, babe?” Negan says to Lucille after a few more minutes of light conversation.

“I suppose it is getting late. Thank you very much for the delicious dinner, Diane.” Lucille makes her way over to my mother and gives her a friendly hug with Negan doing the same. “And very nice to meet you, Charlotte.” She hugs me, too. I've never really liked hugging people, but she is so nice, so I soldier through it. I try not to be too awkward, which is a feat for me.

“Nice to meet you, too.” I give her a smile.

Negan walks past me, giving me a small nod. “See you tomorrow, kid.” He turns back to my mom. “Will you see us out, Diane?”

“Oh, sure.” She follows them out to their car, which is parked on the street.

After a little bit, I walk upstairs to my room to get ready for bed. As I walk over to my windows to close the curtains, I look outside and see that my mom is hugging Negan and Lucille has her hand on my mom’s shoulder. That's kinda weird. What are they doing? It looks like they're consoling her, or something. But that makes no sense.

I watch them speak to each other for a few more minutes until Negan and Lucille get into their car and drive off. I change into my pjs and go downstairs to ask my mom about the encounter. I find her standing in front of the sink washing the dishes from dinner.

“What was that all about?” I ask.

“What, sweetie?”

“With Negan. Outside. I saw you talking with him.”

“Oh.” She clears her throat. “I was just telling him again how much his friendship with you means to me.” She continues to wash the dishes, not raising her gaze.

“Jeez, mom. You're gonna make him think I'm some pitiful outcast or something.”

She turns around and pulls me into a tight hug. “I love you so much, Chuck. I just want the world for you. And sometimes this world can be such a horrible place.” She kisses my forehead.

“Okay, mom. I love you, too.” I'm not quite sure what this is all about, but whatever. My mom could always be a bit overdramatic. “I'm headed to bed. Night.” I pull away from her and turn to leave the kitchen.

“Night, sweetie.”

—— ——

Chuck is pulled out of her memories by the sound of the metal door scraping open. She covers her overly sensitive eyes as light floods the small room. Negan's large form casts a long shadow onto her as he steps into the doorway.

“Come on, Chuck. Time to go.” His voice is flat, emotionless.

Chuck slowly stands, stretching out her stiff limbs. As soon as she gets to her full height, she feels light headed. She tries to take a step, but her vision starts to tunnel. The last thing she feels before darkness takes over is Negan's arms wrapping around her.

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