#all this after the fucking nightmare i had earlier too goddamnit goddamnit godDAMNit
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#ohhhhh f u c k me#i found a bunch of the little sketches i made of them and. g o d. FUCK. theres one in here from freshman year when i just thought they#were the nicest coolest person id ever met bc they were they were they are and. fcuk. fuck.#theres doodles of them from rehearsal when we very first started going out and theres doodles of them from rehearsal more recently and#theres art inhhere from when i missed them ofer the summer and. and the old ones have their long hair and the newer ones show after they cut#it and the newest ones showed how its started to grow back and. god. FUCK. holy fucking h e l l. god this fucking h u r t s#all this after the fucking nightmare i had earlier too goddamnit goddamnit godDAMNit#h e l l. i cant. everything is. its all about them even when i dont mean it to be even when it doesnt start that way and i. dont know what#the fuck to DO bc this is all so. this is all so fucking much and i miss them so fucking badly and its been 43 days since ive seen or talked#to them at ALL and i cant STAND this i feel liek im losing myfucking mIND and i dont know what the fuck i could possibly ever say i dont#even know what i want besides them and thats ridiculous and stupid and i shouldnt i should know bettwr and i should be over this by now but#everything makes me think of them everythingeverythingeverything and even though ive been Actively Fucking Trying to figure out how tf to#move tf ON bc i know i SHOULD bc. bc everyone thinks i should and i trust theur judgement on this a helluva lot more than mine bc mine was#what got me INTO this mess in ghe FIRST fucking place but. i still fucking love them!! and i still fucking WANT to love them!!! and i still#FUCKING WANT to be with them godDAMNIt idk wtf to DO. every option os bad nd i cant see a way out of this without hurtibg literally Everyone#Involved and i cant STAND i dont WANT to hurt anyone but if i choose yes i hurt the other and if icchoose no then that hurts them and ikikik#im not responsible for wither of those things but. gdi. gdi. gdi i want to hold them again i feel so fucking lost and fluttery and they were#always such an anchor and i cant i cant i cant i CANT bc inSHOULDNT bc ig itll just hurts us both no matter what?? its all fucking lose-lose#its all fucking lose-lose and their hearts are in the fucking balance and i cant help both and i cant help either and ik that its not my#fault or responsibility but oh god ohgodohgodoh g o d i dont want to hurt anyone adn i dont know how to be good or healthy and im trying so#FUCKING hard but it doesnt seem like ots working at ALL bc for all im strainjng to do good and do healthy im still not and i can see it#happening but i cant seem to change iteven for my sake even though ik thats all i wanted for them was for them to do better for their own gd#sake!! i cant hopefor that from them if *i* cant do it. righr?? and i just feel like everythinf is spinning and im lost and. g o d. h e l l#they made it all seemso easy and clear and they were so supportive when i had no bones of my own to speakof and now i nkow that was probably#HURTING them and i cANT let that HAPPEN ANYMORE but im so confused and conflicted and they were always readyto try andease that away and i#GOD. it fuckinf HURTS. the nightmaee was just them angry and hurtinf and hating me + thekself and i woke up fucing sobbing bc i didnt have#anyanswers but dream-them said i was right:i WASNt worth gettig bettwr for but i was also WRONGbc they didnt think THEY were worth it either#and i couldbt help them in the dream i just woke up in tears and i cant help them irl bc i cant make myself nothing to them and i dont WANT#to even tho ik its SELFISH. but i cant even help my gd self!! and i havent even shown them all this fucking art. only one of the sketches#over txt ovr the summer+they said they loved it+it almost made them cry+i cant show anyone these now i cant but. i still have them. god. GOD
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My Guardian Angel
Summary: In the dead of the night, Jane’s stitches start bleeding…. 5x05 tag. On fanfiction.
Note: THANKS to @lurkingwhump for sending me the prompt: "Jane being ill or injured and Kurt giving her some TLC, or Jane's suffering from night terrors/nightmares and Kurt comforts her."
Kurt kissed Jane good-night, made sure she was comfortable in bed, and asked her if she needed, or even wanted, anything at all, his own heart included. But she shook her head with the tiniest of smiles, whispered her love to him, and that she was good, as long as he was beside her, within hand reach.
There was the dull pain, still, throughout her entire body after the surgery she had earlier, but she said nothing about it, and insisted to sleep it off. And she did, almost immediately, only to be woken up yet again by another nightmare in the dead of the night, her breathing rapid, her mouth dry, and her stomach stinging in pain she wished she were still having the same awful nightmare instead.
She cried quietly, even soundlessly, as she saw flashes of the nightmare in her vision, and endured the pain all alone. She shed a great amount of unbidden, salty tears, like she'd never done before, and they easily slid from her eyes to her cheeks, down her neck, before dampening the pillow. It was too much. The nightmares; the reality; the misery; the pain; the could have happeneds.
A full minute passed, two, three, then she had the slightest courage to place a shaking, cold hand on her wound beneath the sweater, and found out that the bandage was soggy, sloppy. There must be blood, lots of it, it must be bleeding again, she thought. Goddamnit.
When she pressed on it in an attempt to stop it, helpless yet brave, she was rewarded with such sharp, fast pain—as fast as the speed of light. Someone else might've screamed their heart out at that, but she didn't. She swallowed it, as her breathing got heavier, her heart skipped a beat, and her eyes squeezed tight in pain that seemed to transport her to another state, one in which everything, even the past she'd been working so hard to forget, seemed to fade into a gray watercolor wash.
"Kurt," she whispered, or tried to, withdrawing her hand from beneath the sweater. But when he didn't seem to respond, she whispered his name again and again and again, like a prayer, her voice needy, cracking, and scared. "Kurt…Kurt…Kurt."
It took Kurt some time to come to consciousness, and realize that his name was being repeated in the present, softly, and that the voice was Jane's, his Jane, not from the nightmare where he was being restricted to a chair by the enemy, unable to move, helpless by all means. But then he turned over like the world was coming to an end and propped himself up on his elbows, his mind fuzzy for the first seconds before it became alert. Wasting no more second, he stumbled on his way down to Jane on bed. "You okay?" he blurted.
"No… My wound…" Despite all the sweat she had exuded by now, she was shivering when he laid a hand on her, and in the semidarkness, she took a glimpse of his eyes and saw warmth, life, hope. He, from his point of view, saw tears shimmering in her eyes. Saw the pain, too. His heart sank, and quickly yet carefully, with feather-like hands he reveled on her wound, and by now it looked haphazardly covered in red-soaked bandages. Every alarm in his body sat off at the sight, and he clenched his jaw, forced himself to calm down and assess the damage, see his options. He could go and get Patterson and Rich and Tasha right here so he could use the help. But he wouldn't leave her alone while bleeding. He wouldn't. He would have to do this on his own, here and now and quickly.
"Kurt…is it that bad?" Jane asked between gritted teeth. She couldn't bring herself to have a look herself, and now she watched her husband stare down at her with intense concentration while frowning his brows.
"It's bleeding, but I'll clean it, okay?" he told her, before rushing straight to turn on the lights, wash his hands, grip the first aid kit, and return to her in bed. He looked at her face tight in pain and, with shaking hands, he put on a pair of gloves. "It'll be okay, Janie," he reassured her, "It'll sting a little, maybe, but it won't hurt much."
She only managed to nod, deep down knew exactly how much it'd hurt, and it'd be more than just a little. "I'm ready", she confirmed, biting her lip to hold a whimper in so Kurt wouldn't feel bad.
He began with exposing her abdomen to the fullest then, holding his breath, he discarded the bandage, to which she let out a hiss, and her hands flinched, almost pushed his away. But instead she took fistfuls of the blanket beside her, and steeled herself for what was yet to come. After Kurt threw the bloody bandage, and was about to do the cleaning, he looked her in the eye. "You have to tell me when it's painful, Janie," he said, as he breathed and sweated and prayed for her in his head.
"I trust you… It won't be painful," she whispered, eyes only half open, lips pale, forehead creased in a plea for him to get her out of her misery. If he could, he'd have stopped the time, taken away all the pain in a heartbeat. She didn't deserve this. His wife. Jane. Kind. Strong. Lovely. Resilient. Ass-kicker. Beautiful. Unstoppable. Talented. So damn stubborn. But all he could do right now was this, cleaning her wound quickly yet gently before it'd get any worse.
"Stay with me. Keep breathing. It'll be quick," he told her, as he got one of the gauzes wet with saline solution. "You're gonna hate me right now, but try to—"
"I'll never hate you," she rushed to say, shaking her head. "Never."
"You sure?" He began cleaning, gently wiping all the oxidized blood away. Jane winced once that gauze came into contact with the fresh stitches on her abdomen. The skin around the wound was so fragile, so delicate, and it stung like a fire. "Deadly sure."
After stealing one look at her determined face, committing it to memory, Kurt continued, frowning at the way the gauze was already staining with Jane's blood. But he continued, replacing the gauze and wetting it and wiping as needed. She… She was painting by now, her body jolting, and so Kurt wanted to talk her down. "You said…that you are deadly sure you won't hate me? Huh? Even if I might be hurting you now?"
"You're healing me…" she corrected. "I'm…in the safest hands I could ever—" She gasped, aloud and hoarsely, as her head lifted from the pillow. "Fuck—it's painful, Kurt."
"Scale of one to ten?"
"Seven. Eight."
"I'm sorry," Kurt replied. "I'm almost done, I promise. Two more minutes, okay?"
Jane's head fell back to the pillow, and she didn't nod, nor showed any indication that she'd heard him. But she did count to something close to hundred, making herself go slowly. Slowly. Slowly. Slowly. Until she lost count, before losing full consciousness…
It would be the most pleasant way to go, to die in his arms. Her husband. Kurt. Brave. One of a kind. Loving. Caring. Owns the sexiest of smiles. Deadly when needed be. Overprotective. Loyal to the marrow. But it wouldn't be fair to leave him behind, alone, just because things didn't go their way. They were supposed to spend their lives together, share happiness and sadness together, get older together, against all odds. It was true and unfortunate that they may not have everything they used to have: freedom, family, safety, good reputation, property, some kind of control. But truly, they did have everything they needed: each other, and friends for life.
There were fingers brushing against her cheek with surprising gentleness when she fluttered her eyes open, and she hummed—not in pain any more but in contentment. And then, there he was, her guardian angel, wearing a smile that she'd trade the world for it. He inched closer to her in bed.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, just when he reached for her hand and dotted it with kisses.
"Better." Last time she saw the same hand he was kissing now, it was covered with blood. Her own blood. But right now it was clean and warm and being kissed by him.
"How long have I been out?"
"Six hours." He smiled sadly. "Was it that painful?"
"Honestly?"
"Yeah?"
"It was more painful than being shot…and as painful as the surgery. But—"
"I'm sorry."
"Hey, doesn't matter. I'll be okay." She touched his cheek to comfort the two of them. "Really, though, what I would do without you, Kurt?"
"Let's not think about that."
They shared a smile, a kiss, and a moment of comforting silence.
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Hearts and Shocks
Summary: You’re soulmates with Yahaba, but the thing is, he doesn’t seem to want one. And then he shows up at your house late at night and decides to pour his heart out to you.
TW: mentions of alcohol, being drunk, alcoholism, and abuse. There are some swears, but I think that’s it. Again, if I missed something, please let me know.
A/N: I have no idea where this came from and it’s pretty gender neutral.
“I might kill Kyoutani, I might actually do it,” Yahaba said, tearing a hand through his hair as he walked home with you.
“No you won’t, you know he’s growing on you,” you told him, reaching for him before you dropped your hand to your side again, hoping he hadn’t seen the movement.
“I hate it when you’re right,” he muttered.
“You must hate it a lot then,” you replied, giving him a small smile. “But at least he’s starting to respect you more, and he’s starting to realize that he can’t keep acting like an ass.”
He sighed, letting his hand fall back to his side as he turned face up towards the sky. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing it right,” he admitted.
“Doing what right?”
“Leading the team. I’m not like Oikawa-”
“You’re not Oikawa,” you reminded him. “You’re not the genius setter that he was. You aren’t some volleyball prodigy. You lead the team the way you lead the team. You keep them in check the way you do. You don’t have to be Oikawa. Your team isn’t expecting you to be Oikawa.”
“The first years are,” he said.
“Fuck the first years!” you hissed, gripping his wrist. “Kyoutani isn’t expecting you to be Oikawa, Watari isn’t expecting you to be Oikawa, Kindaichi isn’t expecting you to be Oikawa, Kunimi isn’t expecting you to be Oikawa. They aren’t expecting you to be Oikawa.”
You hated when he did that, you hated when he compared himself to Oikawa. He wasn’t Oikawa, and anyone that expected him to be Oikawa was a dumbass in need of some serious brain cells.
You realized you were still holding his wrist and you let go, taking a step back, trying to ignore the ache in the pit of your stomach.
You hadn’t touched bare skin luckily, and you hoped that the measures you were taking were working and that he hadn’t noticed anything unusual the last couple of weeks.
You had been both hopeful and dreadful when you realized you and Yahaba were soulmates. Hopeful because you had liked him for more than four months now, not that he had noticed, and dreadful because he had told you multiple times he didn’t want a soulmate. He’d been going on and on about how the system didn’t work the way it used to.
His parents had been soulmates, and he had grown up in a house filled with arguing and hate and fear of what might happen. He didn’t believe in soulmates the way that you did.
Your parents had been soulmates too, but they had been in a similar situation. Your father had loved alcohol more than he had loved you or your mother, but the thought of your soulmate had gotten you through.
You had hoped that you would be different, you had hoped that if you ever had kids they would grow up in a loving household, never having to hide in a closet or ease their father into a bed when he was stumbling around drunk.
You remembered the way Yahaba had jerked away from your touch that night at the party when he’d had too much to drink.
The look he had given you when he had realized what the almost electric shock meant, it had been in your nightmares as of late.
Luckily, he had drank enough that he had no idea what had transpired.
“They know you won’t be Oikawa,” you continued. “Every captain leads differently. Karasuno’s captain didn’t lead the way Oikawa did, and they beat Seijoh. Nekoma’s captain didn’t lead the way either of them did, and they were a strong team. You don’t have to be Oikawa, Yahaba.”
You bit your lip for a moment, trying to figure what you needed to say and how to say it. You needed to be careful. One wrong word and it would all come to a close.
“And,” you added, “I know my opinion doesn’t mean much to you, but I like you more than I liked Oikawa. Just thought you should know that. See you tomorrow Yahaba.”
You turned onto your street, adjusting your bag as you let out a breath you hadn’t known you’d been holding.
You felt your cheeks burn as you made you way to your house, hoping to every deity that you hadn’t fucked everything up, hoping that he hadn’t caught onto everything that you had been trying to bury under the surface.
Sometimes, late at night when you were supposed to be sleeping, you wondered what it would be like, to have Yahaba care for you the way you felt about him. To have him look at you the way Oikawa and Iwaizumi looked at each other.
You wondered what it would be like, to have him even glance at you like that.
You sighed, running your hands over your hair.
You thought about it for a ten more minutes, but then you sighed again.
“It’s too early to be thinking about that,” you hissed, trying to shake the thoughts from your head as you opened the door.
“Mom, I’m home,” you called. Then you noticed the note on the fridge. “Right, it’s double shift night.”
You threw your bag into a chair and opened the fridge, disregarding the note.
After unloading the dishwasher, switching over the laundry and starting another load, and cleaning the house, you slipped into some comfy pants and a tank top, then headed to the kitchen to get dinner and do your homework.
“Leftovers, leftovers, leftovers,” you muttered, pulling out a Tupperware container filled with rice and some sort of meat.
It smelled fine at least.
A few minutes in the microwave and it would be perfect.
You had just popped it in when someone knocked on the door.
“Figures,” you muttered, stopping the clock as you reached for the door, checking the peephole first.
Yahaba stood there, looking shocked, and you frowned.
“What the hell are you doing here?” you asked, moving to let him in.
It was dark out and the wind bit into your skin as you stood there. Had he run there? Had he gone home or had he been out there for any length of time?
“I need to talk to you.”
“Clearly,” you said, sitting him down in one of the chairs in the kitchen.
“You said that your opinion didn’t mean anything to me and that’s not true,” he blurted.
“I said it didn’t mean ‘much’,” you corrected, leaning against your counter.
“Either way, your opinion means a lot to me, more than it should, and I care about you more than I should, more than I said that night and I can’t keep watching you pull away because you’re my soulmate. I remember everything from that night and I need to apologize to you because I was scared of what we could be.
“I’ve known for months that we were soulmates and I kept it to myself because you never told me how you felt about it, and I know that was my fault because I got irritated and twitchy every time we tried to talk about it, but goddamnit (Y/F/N), I can’t keep watching you walk away because you think I want it that way. I don’t, I don’t want you to walk away and leave me behind.
“I need you in my life, and I need you by my side. I would’ve flipped my shit earlier if you hadn’t been there to get me out of my head. I need you, I need you more than I’ve needed anything and I know how bad that sounds, I know that makes me sound like some kind of psychotic stalker, but you are a part of my heart, (Y/F/N), alright? You feel this?”
He grabbed your hand, shocking the both of you, almost like you had touched a live wire instead of bare skin. You gasped as he let out a strangled groan in the back of his throat at the continuance of it as he splayed your hand over his heart, which was pounding so badly you thought it might jump right out of his chest.
“This is for you. You and you alone. I don’t love volleyball the way the others do, I love the game, but it’s not everything to me. But you? You are everything to me, and you need to know that this, my heart, belongs to you. So do with it what you will. Smash it, shatter it, crack my chest open and keep it as a treasure, whatever, it’s yours. Just please, I know I don’t deserve it after everything I’ve done in the last few months, but please, just believe me.”
He was blushing a fierce red, his chest heaving against your palm as he caught his breath.
You had never really heard him talk like this, especially for this long, and he looked like he might cry, his eyes were glassy and lined with silver.
It took you a minute to gather your thoughts before you finally pushed his chest lightly, moving your hand from his chest.
He looked broken for a moment before you reached for his hand.
“No one has ever said anything like that to me, Yahaba, and I appreciate the honesty. But there’s one major thing wrong with what you just said.”
You ignored the hurt look on his face as you took the hand you were holding and put it above his heart, applying just the slightest bit of pressure.
“I can’t take your heart. Want to know why? Because it’s yours. You can give it out however you wish, but it’s not just your heart that I want,” you told him softly. “I want you. Whole and flawed and Yahaba. I don’t want you to be Oikawa, I want you to be yourself. So keep this for me, yeah? Protect it and love it as much as I do. I want Yahaba, not just his heart. I don’t plan on breaking his heart, and I don’t plan on breaking yours either.”
Yahaba gave a small laugh, his breath ticking your cheeks. You hadn’t realized how close the two of you had gotten.
Your back was against the counter, but you barely noticed because of the heat radiating off of Yahaba as he wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his face in your neck.
“You’re so amazing,” he whispered, kissing your neck lightly, making you shiver.
“You couldn’t have said this tomorrow? It’s almost eleven you moron! Wow, I really was having dinner late wasn’t I?” you asked, the last part more for yourself than anything.
“You haven’t eaten yet?” Yahaba asked, pulling away slightly.
“I was going to eat earlier, but you showed up and poured out your heart to me in an epic show of dramatics that rivals Oikawa. The only thing we needed was an audience.”
“Sorry, I thought you would be in bed or something,” he admitted, blush returning.
“It’s alright. This was one of the nights where I was actually going to eat.”
“That’s not healthy,” he muttered.
“Go and sit in the living room, I’ll be in in a few minutes, then we can talk if you want,” you told him, pushing him towards the doorway. “You ate too right?”
“Yeah, I went home and thought for a few minutes before I decided I needed to come clean,” he said.
“You noticed?” you asked. “That I was pulling away from you?”
“You tend to be a touchy person. Lots of hugs, shoulder touches, that sort of thing, but you haven’t been doing it a lot with me lately, so I started to notice.”
“I’m sorry,” you murmured as you restarted the clock.
“You shouldn’t be,” he told you. “I was a coward. I should’ve told you.”
“I should’ve told you. I knew for almost as long as you did, but I was terrified of what your reaction would be. I mean, as far as soulmates go, I’m pretty average.”
“Shut it Yahaba,” you snapped, turning to him. “I would chose you every single time. Don’t ever think that I would want anyone else to be my soulmate.”
“I’m a pretty boring other half though, you have to admit it.”
“We’re simple people Yahaba. We don’t need extravagance or fame, we just need the people we care about and secruity. And soulmates aren’t ‘other halves’. That’s bullshit. You’re a full person, you’re a functional human being.”
He snorted at that part, but you glared and him and continued on anyways.
“Soulmates are like socks. One sock is still a sock, it’s just a matter of finding another sock that is close enough. You could wear an ankle sock and a thigh high and it would work, but that doesn’t mean that they necessarily work the best together. You don’t have to be my other half, just like I don’t have to be yours, and that’s because we are still our own separate people.”
Yahaba smiled at you, brightly and unrestrained and you wondered what you had said.
“I love you,” he stated. It was like it was the easiest thing in the world for him to say it. It made you wonder how long he had been holding that inside.
“I love you too.”
The microwave went off and you sighed, pulling the container out, snagging your utensils before you walked into the living room.
“So, what now?” Yahaba asked.
“Now we figure out how serious we want this to be,” you said.
“You’re kidding right?” he asked.
“No, I’m quite serious actually,” you admitted, picking at your dinner. “I just . . . I just need to hear you say it.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, pulling you into his lap. “I’m not leaving unless you want me gone.”
“Me either,” you told him, setting the food off to the side so you could wrap your arms around his neck.
“Good,” he replied, smiling at you.
“Good.”
#shigeru x reader#yahaba x reader#soulmates au#soulmate au#yahaba shigeru x reader#yahaba x reader fluff#shigeru x reader fluff
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A Quiet Moment
Pairing: Clementine x Louis
Word Count: 2.5K
Summary: During her monthly hair cut, Clem and Louis both confide in each other about their deepest feelings.
A/N: I started this at around 12:50 am and finished it at 4 am (the power of a can of coke before lmao) buutttt it’s all for @castle-javier HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAISY!!!!!!! YOU’RE ALWAYS LISTENING TO MY RAMBLES AND DUMB HEADCANONS GO WISH HER THE BESTEST BIRTHDAY <3<3<3 I LUV YOU
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"Oh Looouis," That devilish yet melodic tune meant only one thing and both of them knew it. Louis glanced up from his book, raising a brow at this rare case of forwardness from her. "I need your help." There it was. Clementine knew when to turn on the charm and how to talk in such a delicate way that turned Louis into mush.
He closed the novel he was reading, wasn't captivating to begin with. He had read over the same page three times now, always losing himself to a stray thought. Besides, a task with Clementine is a more fruitful way to spend the day. "Anything for you my darling. What is it?"
Clem slowly unveiled her hands, revealing a tarnished pair of scissors. "Could you please cut my hair?" Her teeth were bared in the widest grin he had seen to date, puppy dog eyes in full effect.
"You know I can't say no to a face like that." And what a task this was! Clem usually cut her own hair, swearing every few minutes when she cut a piece too short, yet somehow she always came out of the bathroom looking as adorable as ever.
She tossed him the scissors before retreating back to the bathroom, immediately going back to inspecting her hair in the mirror, pulling at a stray curl. Clem didn't even want to consider how long it had been since she had last used shampoo and conditioner. Too long that was certain. Dirty hair was the norm. And it still smelled after all these years. Whoopee.
Louis interrupted the rare vanity he witnessed, leaning against the door in his typical nonchalant manner. Function over fashion for Clem, that was always the way. Seeing her fiddle with flat curls and knots pulled at his heart. At the end of the day she was still a young girl who wanted a decent haircut. "You ready for this?"
Clementines' hand clenched unknowingly, her teeth near the point of grinding. "Just...be careful. The last person who cut my hair fucked it up." She sat down on the rickety toilet seat, eyes focused on the mirror and definitely not on how Louis was wildly swinging the scissors around his finger.
"I'm a natural, been doing my own since I was a kid!" Louis ran his free hand through his dreads, even Clem had to admit they looked good and somewhat healthy. "Now trust the process. You asked me for help, remember?"
"Yeah, yeah. Don't cut it too short, okay? I like tying it up." Clementine pulled out her hair tie, wincing at the unevenness of it all. Goddamnit Javi. The curls on the longer side were near untameable, reminding her of how she once looked. Smiling ever so faintly at the memory, looking like a boy was now the least of her concerns.
Louis bit his tongue in an attempt to not laugh at her scrunched face. "Pinky promise, you'll still be able to use your hair...thingy."
"You mean hair tie?"
Louis eventually took the plunge and snipped off the first tattered curl, watching it fall to the ground. No going back now. "Yeah that. I use to have one but it snapped, guess it couldn't contain my luscious locks."
A shiver ran across the back of her neck as the cold metal glided against her skin. "Yeah, I'm sure that was it. I have a spare you can borrow," She dug around her jacket pocket for the mangy thing, soon finding it hiding beneath a flower she had plucked earlier that day. "Here, still pretty stretchy after all these years."
Louis held his hand out steady as she slid it over his wrist, the once purple dye now tarnished by specks of blood, dirt and other substances Louis didn't want to know of. "Damn, you've had this for a long time."
"I got them right as everything started."
Louis eventually found his groove with the scissors, secretly wondering if Clem would stab him if he gave her a mohawk. Perhaps Farrah Fawcett hair? "Who gave them to you?"
Her delayed answer nudged at his sympathy, a clear cut sign that Clementine had fallen back into old memories. "Lilly did. She said they would help keep my hair out of my face while I slept."
Louis had stopped mid-cut, letting the answer sink in as his own tormented memories of that woman came at full speed. "Oh. You don't really talk about her."
"There's not much to talk about." She chose to focus on the rapidly growing pile of hair on the floor, gliding it around the smooth tiles with the tip of her boot. It would be a bitch to tidy later, but that was a future Clem problem.
They continued in silence, the only sound being the sharp cut of the scissors every few seconds as Louis took his time, choosing to focus on the task at hand rather than the shared trauma both had been dealt by Lilly. "Sometimes I wonder what she was like, before the child kidnapping thing. Was she always a sociopath?"
Clem let out a laugh that Louis knew was fake. "No, she was normal. I guess a little angry, but who wasn't? Her dad certainly didn't help."
"Her dad? What was he like?"
"We were all hiding in this drugstore and her dad, like the grade-A asshole he was, threatened a kid."
"Yikes." Seems like hurting kids ran in the family.
Her shoulders fell deeply, snippets of hair sliding off her shirt. "Yup, he thought the kid was bit. He wasn't, just scared, like everyone else. I miss him sometimes."
"Who? The dad?"
"Fuck no, the kid. We called him Duck, he was the only other kid I had to talk to." Even if all he talked about was dinosaurs and comic books, it was a nice distraction from the world outside the motor inn. Before everything began to crumble.
"Was he cool?" Louis dared to question further, treading carefully on what he knew were sacred memories. Stories Clem had never shared with him, or anyone. The only glimpses he had seen were the aftermaths of her nightmares, the faces of past ghosts coming back to haunt her.
She hummed over her answer. "I suppose, kinda annoying and loud. Very loud. I put a bug in his pillow."
Louis couldn't help but chuckle. "You did what now?"
"I put a bug in his pillow, just a little spider. I don't know why I did that."
"You would have been the perfect candidate for a troubled youth school."
She lightly punched his chest, unable to contain her smile. "Hey! I was a good kid."
He feigned the agony from the punch, clutching his t-shirt in a death grip. "Sure, cause good kids always leave bugs on pillows and punch their boyfriends."
"It was in his pillow for the record."
The silence was no longer heavy like it was before. This time light, breathable. A change of pace from how it began.
"Her dad died in a meat locker." Clementine pursed her lips together as the unsettling story began to spill out of her. She had never spoken about it before, to anyone, choosing to let those memories fester and hide.
"A what?"
"A place where you store meat. Some of us were trapped inside, he had a heart attack and to stop him from turning Lee..." Her words became the mere wave of a whisper as her breathing grew quicker. She was still there; in the meat locker, in the jewellery store, at Howe's, on the boat. Always there, always trapped, unable to get out.
Louis briefly stopped cutting her hair, giving her his full attention instead. "Lee did what?" Some small part of him was afraid of the answer.
"He held Lilly back as Kenny dropped a salt lick on his head." She said it so calmly, too calmly. As if it was just an occupational hazard, a little story you tell to strangers to pass the time.
The scissors nearly slipped from his grasp. "Holy shit."
"Yeah, not fun." It was the moment she realised her world had changed, now forever starved for help. There was no going back.
He thought of one final question, the one question whose truth terrified him more than the others. "How old were you?"
"Eight."
Louis didn't dare test his luck any further, his curiosity reaching its limit. She was right, he had no idea what people were capable of behind the school walls. The things she had seen, the things she was forced to live through...he wished he could take it all away. Replace her horrid memories with calmer ones.
There was always their purple house.
As her hair got shorter and shorter, he began to cut slower and slower, not wanting their brief time together to end. After this, it's back to the grim world. Back to the endless fight. He was so lost in concentration he hadn't noticed Clem staring blatantly at his reflection for the past few minutes. He wasn't the only curious cat in the room.
"Whatcha thinking about now?"
"Wondering where I can find purple paint. For our house." He chirped. Talking about this dream house always put them both in a better mood, despite the likelihood of them ever seeing it was slim to none. It was their safe haven, a world away from this one where they could do whatever and be whoever.
"Ah, right. I haven't been able to come across any. We might have to consider a different colour."
Louis nearly choked on the very prospect, his hands waving around violently in disbelief, despite wielding a sharp blade. "Never! I am building you that house and it's going to be purple."
"Why so set on purple?"
He slowed to a near crawl, pondering over his word choice. "Well, you said at the party purple was your dads favourite colour. Take it as a gift of good faith, I am dating his daughter after all."
Clem could only hope there was enough hair left to hide her burning ears. "He would like you." She whispered just for him, despite being alone.
"You think so?" The glee in his voice was obvious, his posture straightening up.
"If he didn't I'd make him. He had a pretty good singing voice, I'm sure you'd sing duets together, driving both me and my mom crazy." If this were a normal world that is. Perhaps they would go to high school together, go to the movies, skip class or whatever it was teenagers would do. Hiding from walkers would be replaced with games of tag, repeated bowls of rice would become pizza and endless junk food.
"You okay?"
Her fantasy world gone before her eyes just as quickly as it appeared, Clem ran a hand over her shadowed face, repressing the tears that always threatened her when she considered all that could have been. "I miss them."
"Sorry, shouldn't have brought them up." Louis kissed the top of her head, hoping it would soothe her subtle trembling. The original task of cutting her hair now gone from both their minds as they basked in this secret grief. A grief they both knew the other felt, grief for a world long gone from their grasp.
Her hand slid over the top of his, intertwining their fingers, her thumb tracing each line and callous present. Memorising everything about him. "No, it's fine. Really, I'm glad I can talk to you about them."
He squeezed her hand, letting this moment sink into his heart. It was moments like these he would turn to on his more difficult nights, where monsters pulled themselves out of every dark corner. She was a light, protecting him in more ways than she knew. "You wanna know a secret? Sometimes I'm thankful for the apocalypse."
"You're what now?"
"Think about it. You used to live in Georgia, we probably never would have met had you not needed to bounce between cities for survival," He spoke gently into her hair, never breaking away from her. "I know we've lost people, I've made plenty of mistakes, but if going through all that meant I got to meet you, you best believe I'd do it all again."
And there it was, a confession that completely destroyed and rescued both of them.
Clementine couldn't bear to look at him, for her own self-restraint lest she become a puddle of tears. Grabbing onto the lining of his coat, she pulled herself into his inviting arms, burying her head in the warm crook of his neck. "You always talk about how you're the lucky one," Swallowing the strong lump within her throat, she bore her heart to him. "You may not have been the one to drag me out of that car crash, but you saved me that day and continue to every day since. It's always been the other way around."
His words got caught somewhere between his heart and his mouth, an amalgamation of thoughts moulding together in his mind. He stood there, unsure of when he had dropped the scissors and his arms had clung to her waist, gripping her tighter than before. The two fit together like pieces of a puzzle, completing each other. "Well...I think that's just about the most romantic thing anyone has ever told me," They both laughed in unison, now admiring each other's soft eyes. Their arms still wrapped around the other, not wanting to depart just yet. "Thank you, Clementine. Perhaps we're both lucky."
He planted a chaste kiss to her nose as their foreheads collided, his fingers drawing intricate circles on her lower back. "You're right," Her voice now back to a whisper only meant for his ears. "I don't want a normal world if it means you're not apart of it."
They could have remained within that tiny bathroom holding each other for a lifetime. Instead, they both let their young love mend the cracks of their past. His heart thumped from deep within, echoing in her ear. The slow, rhythmic beat had lulled her to sleep many nights. Even his heart made beautiful music.
"I have one last question for you," Clementine asked, no more traces of pain or regret laced within her words.
Louis glanced down at her, marvelling at their height difference. "Go ahead."
She beamed up at him, her chin prodding his chest. There was that devilish gleam in her eyes once again, unmatched by her innocent smile. "Does my hair look bad?"
#twdg#the walking dead game#the walking dead game season four#twdg clementine#twdg louis#twdgs4#telltales the walking dead#twdg clouis#twdg louisentine#clem x louis#twdg fanfic#twdg s4#clouis#louisentine#fanfiction#scullyy#YAY DAISY#<3#clouis gang
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I’m Here
Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Reader
Word count: 1,853
Contents/Warnings: Angst, profanity, its a surprise!
Jolting upright Bakugou panted, his red eyes wide open and heart hammering as sweat soaked his chest and back. There was a sick nauseous feeling in the pit of his stomach as he tried to even his breathing and calm down. Flinging the covers off, Bakugou growled as he swung his feet off the bed and stumbled to the bathroom. Turning on the light he winced at the brightness of it before getting used to it and turning on the faucet. The hero leaned over, splashing cold water on his face and literally cooling down in no time. When he was done Bakugou stood before the sink a bit longer, hands gripping the edges as his nightmare played over in his head.
You cradled in his arms and smiling, a hand brushing his cheek and as he pressed his forehead to yours biting back all his tears and screams while you bled out from a piece of debris impaling your abdomen, your sweet and wavering voice trying to keep him together.
“You’re so fucking stupid, why did you do that - I was supposed to take that hit!” He spat out through gritted teeth.
“And that kid too? I think you’re dumber than me Katsu,” you spoke and tried to chuckle but a breathy choke cut it short.
Bakugou held you tighter, his body going numb and hearing turning into white noise except for your own voice and his. Gritting his teeth he looked down at the wound you tried to hide under your hand then back up and around the chaos as he tried to scream out for help but his voice wasn’t fucking working. Your body trembled in his arms and made him gasp, looking back at you again and shaking his head, hand cupping your face as your eyes were growing heavier and that smile growing weaker.
“No goddamnit, you’re staying with me, you’re not fucking leaving me - I’ll get help, I’ll save you!”
“Katsu,” you breathed out and worked your smile back up, hand taking his own and kissing his cheek, “I’ll never leave you, ever. You’ve already saved me so many t-times, it was my turn to save you baby. I’ll be fine and you’ll be fine, okay?”
Bakugou’s lip trembled as he felt your hold on his hand loosening, his breathing hitching and head shaking as he kissed you as many times as he could, savoring each one, remembering the taste and feel like muscle memory and feeling hot tears rolling down his face.
“I love you so much Katsuki.”
The sound of porcelain cracking made Bakugou come back to his senses as he realized his quirk was starting to act up from being so emotional. Quickly he removed himself from the appliance and strode back into the bedroom, palm rubbing at his head and groaning as he tried to shake off the nightmare but his stupid fucking brain couldn’t let it go. The more it played on loop the angrier the blonde became. His palms were starting to steam at the mere thought that you’d be stupid enough to sacrifice yourself for him or that it would even be a single thought in your mind at all. After being together since high school and being married to him, you knew better! Soon Bakugou’s emotions were running rampant causing him to yell out as he swung an arm and cleared off the top of the dresser of books and figures in a fit of rage. The glass of a stand alone mirror shattering as one figure flew into it. In flashes, the images of you dying in his arms clicked over and over and over, they wouldn’t fucking stop!
Bakugou panted and tugged at his hair as he fell to his knees and screamed, he grabbed a book that laid beside him and chunked it at the wall opposite to him causing a string of lights that was decorated with polaroids to fall down and tangle, making a few pictures fall from their clips. The blonde looked up to see what the noise was and panicked when he saw what he had done. In an instant he was crawling on his knees to the mess he made, hands grappling at the lights and trying his best to fix it .
“Shit she’s gonna kill me! I’ll never fucking hear the end of it - fucking shit why are these impossible to fucking untangle!”
Truly the task was simple but Bakugou was too unstable at the moment to chill and concentrate. He groaned in frustration as he sat back on his calves and tried again until he heard the sound of feet padding across the carpet towards him and he sighed.
“I’m fixing it, don’t get your panties in a wad just yet!” He spoke.
There were no words in response, just arms wrapping around his neck and hugging him close, the tip of your nose pressing to his cheek as you kissed it softly and smiled. Bakugou briefly froze as your hands were rubbing at his chest and you were smothering him in tiny kisses to his face and jaw, shushing gently on his skin and making him slowly but surely deflate in your arms.
“Katsu calm down, just breathe okay?” You whispered on his temple and started to run a hand through his hair and pressed your cheek to his own, watching what he was trying to do and softly chuckling. “It’s an easy fix you just have to take a fucking chill pill.”
Bakugou scoffed and lightly elbowed you, making you giggle, the sound like music to his ears and making his jaw unclench. The man took a couple deep breathes, listening and focusing on you humming softly in his ear. Even though he had matured since high school and for the most part grew out of his temper, there were still just a few selective things that set Bakugou off like the literal bomb he was and one of those things was your safety and life. You both worked together as pro-hero’s, fighting the same fights and taking hard blows for each other, at least you’d try for him but almost always Bakugou was fast and protecting you first and foremost. “I’ll be damned if I ever lose you,” he would always say. So during these chaotic fits you were the only one who could calm Bakugou and as prideful as he still was, even he himself would admit to that, not wasting a single heartbeat in saying that he needed you.
After a few moments passed, Bakugou was calm enough to start correctly untangling the lights in his hands. You praised him quietly with kisses and continued to watch him.
“What got you so worked up anyway baby?”
For a small second Bakugou stopped then only shook his head with a sigh. “Just a stupid nightmare.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
After finally getting those dumb lights to cooperate Bakugou turned his head to look at you, his red eyes smiling as he brought his hand up to cup you cheek and kiss your lips softly. He breathed in deeply through his nose, taking in the smell of strawberries from his hand ruffling locks of your hair and making the scent of your shampoo permeate in the air. Pulling away from the kiss your foreheads pressed together and the man took just a few more seconds to register how soft your hair was between his fingers and how your chest lightly pressed on his back everytime you breathed. Bakugou turned back around and started to gather the loose polaroids on the floor to re-clip them to the lights and shrugged when he explain his vivid nightmare back over to you.The entire time you held him, rubbing his chest and playing with his hair, kisses littering his face and neck or your face nuzzling into him.
“Katsuki, no matter what happens to us we’ll always be together, even if it’s not physically, I’ll always and forever be with you. You can be weak, it’s not a crime but don’t go losing your fucking head okay? You’ll be fine and you’ll get through anything, you know why?”
Finishing his task, Bakugou sunk back into you, letting out a breath and grabbing your hands that hung from around his neck. His head fell back onto your chest and kissed your arm.
“Why?”
You smiled and wrapped around the shaken hero tighter and protectively. Hand running through his spiky locks and fingers massaging at his scalp as you laid your cheek to his temple.
“Because I’m right here baby, always! Anytime things seem to hard to take or like you can’t get through another day - I’ll save you,” you replied softly on the shell of his ear before kissing it. “You’ll be fine Katsu, I’ll never leave you...I’m here.”
Bakugou nodded, his hand squeezing tighter around your own. “You’re here.”
You hummed in response and smiled when Bakugou turned his head and looked at you. A small smile grew on his own face and he tapped your arms, you released him and let him stand to his feet while picking up the string of lights. You stood behind him, following as he went to hang it back up on the wall, your quiet words of guidance helping him along the way. When it was done, Bakugou took a step back and scanned over the pictures, the memories of each one replaying in his head, the nightmare now becoming a blur. With a yawn the male stretched his arms above his head and rubbed his neck. Your hand could be felt grabbing his opposite wrist and making him turn to look at you.
“Come on Katsu, you need some rest.”
Bakugou didn’t object, only followed you into the living room that was connected to the bedroom of the small apartment. Walking over to the couch Bakugou plopped down onto it with a drawn out sigh and his arms opening for you to join him. Once you were laid down, Bakugou turned to hold you close to his chest, now being the one to nuzzle his face in the crook of your neck as his hands touched your cheeks and hair. He smiled and kissed your cheek, his mind and body second by second relaxing and starting to power down.
“I love you so much.” He sleepily spoke and squeezed tighter, his eyes lazily looking to the tv that was on and quietly broadcasting the news station.
“Earlier this week the notorious villain, The Reaper, was finally caught after evading hero’s for months now. The city is rejoicing as the man will be brought to justice after the tragedy he caused two weeks ago that resulted in the death of the #2 hero, also known as the sidekick and wife of Katsuki Bakugou……”
The sound of the newscaster was slowly drowning out as exhaustion was creeping into Bakugou’s bones, his red eyes growing heavy with a yawn.
“You’re...still...here.” He spoke again while hugging a pillow close to his chest before finally drifting back off to sleep.
#bakugou katsuki#katsuki bakugou#katsuki bakugou x reader#bakugou katsuki x reader#bnha#boku no hero academia#boku no hero academia x reader#bnha writing#mha#my hero academia#my hero academia x reader#mha writing#angst#myamericanhero#bnha scenario#mha sce#bakugou scenario
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in my blood (jake x mc)
A/N: This is probably the saddest fic I’ve ever written but at the same time I’m like insanely proud of it so i advise you get some tissues because this fic is just too real...
This fic was inspired by the song In My Blood By Shawn Mendes but also Ashes by Celine Dion. They’d make this fic a little more emotional if you listen to them while you read, at least it did for me.
Warning: ANGST (sensitive subjects)
Words: 3158
PERMA TAG LIST: @brightpinkpeppercorn@cocomaxley@hopefulmoonobject@alesana45 @jellybean-marshmellow@mymandrake @regrettingnathan@dobie2112@princessstellaris @mechaspirit @skyila@mind-reader1 @xo-endlessmayhem-xo@sakaily@justboredtrash @regina-and-happiness@annekebbphotography. @endlessly-searching-for-you @reginasayeed @christopher-powell@zigortega4life @eileendannie@diamondoasis@speedyoperarascalparty @emomoustache@lostlightningbug@endlesstaylormckenzie @alekai-sayeed @akrenich@vickypoo91 @nitta-jaeguet @femmeshep @hayden-park
ES TAG: @darley1101 @american-duchess
Let me know if you wanna be tagged! 💗and let me know if the tags work because Tumblr is acting up.
Masterlist
Summary: After a tragic event, Logan and Jake must help each other come to terms with what the world has hit them with.
ENDLESS SUMMER FAN FICTION
IN MY BLOOD
Fuck... no. This can’t be happening. This can’t be the end of something so life changing. One moment it’s the craziest thing to happen to Logan but she loves it enough to appreciate it. Then the next second passes and she’s lying isolated against the tiled bathroom wall, a loss looming over her shoulders. She can’t process this. She can’t accept but she also can’t fucking deny it. It’s true. It really happened. And she can’t do anything to change that.
She’s not to ready to let her mind wrap around all the facts. This started off as such a happy time of her life and the best part was she was ready. Jake was ready. They wanted to start their own legacy and forget about all the fucked up moments of their own past. That wouldn’t matter once this new miracle came into their lives. They would have forgotten about it all and found something new to focus on. But no. Now it’s gone. One vital part of their future has disappeared before their very eyes. It’s something they’ll never have the chance to even lay eyes on because the world had to go and take it away like it fucking takes everything away.
Logan can’t do it. She can’t summon any strength to move on from this. Maybe she’s overreacting. Maybe her mind is taking her to the worst places because that’s what she doesn’t want to believe. She runs her hands through her platinum blond hair and lets her head collapse back against the bathroom wall. Her mind is running around all these dark places and possibilities but how the fuck is she gonna find the will to tell Jake about any of this?
She can’t even admit it to herself so why the fuck would she wanna admit it to her husband? He’s been so supportive throughout everything she’s done, no matter how bad. This entire situation might not even be her fault yet she still can’t help but feel like she has to blame herself. She’s the one carrying the miracle anyway. Well... she was.
Just the thought of that only brings more tears to Logan’s ocean eyes, which are already sparkling with tears and the light in them has dimmed so much that there’s a fair chance it may never return. Not after this. Never again. It’s too damn painful. She can’t say it out loud. Hell, she can’t even think it out loud. Fuck this. Fuck everything. She isn’t ready. She’ll never be ready.
Blood surrounds Logan, turning this whole scenario into what appears like a crime scene. And Logan chooses to see herself as the culprit, even if the loss of her victim was nothing more than an accident. This was gonna change her and Jake’s goddamn life. They could have had a chance to change and just the thought of that genuine smile that crossed Jake’s lips when he heard the delightful news will be forever be engraved in Logan’s mind, appearing like more of a guilty conscience than anything else. Only gives her more reason to blame herself.
She’s dressed in one of Jake’s solid black hoodies and it’s scattered with the blood from the incident earlier. Just the memory of the piece of clothing hugging her body only reminds her of Jake and how disappointed he’ll be when she’s forced to tell him the truth. Logan hasn’t even dared to go to the hospital or anything. It’d be even more painful to hear it from someone she didn’t know but... to hear it from Michelle, the concern and honesty in her voice was enough to keep Logan a little calmer but it didn’t make hearing it any better.
Logan hasn’t gathered the strength to move from the bathroom for a good thirty minutes and all that time she’s been begging, pleading and hoping that none of this is real. It’s just a goddamn dream and one moment, she’s finally gonna wake up and... the baby will still be there, a sign of life ready to be brought into this horrifying world but it would be special. If only she wasn’t so weak. If only she could just learn and accept this. What if it happens again? What if this means that her and Jake have an inability when it comes to making a child? Either way, the outcome is gonna hurt emotionally and mentally.
Jake will be so damn disappointed. Disappointed in the world. Disappointed in her and worst of all disappointed in himself. He doesn’t deserve to feel like that and when he does, Logan will feel nothing but guilt because Jake doesn’t deserve this pain and Logan is the one hitting him with it. An agony he shouldn’t be burdened with. He deserves nothing but a life of peace and tranquility. It’s because Logan’s in his life. That’s what it is.
Suddenly, the sound of the front door to the apartment creaking open alarms Logan out of her intense trance and her shattered sapphire eyes widen when a revelation washes over her. Jake’s home. Oh shit. Not now. She’s not ready. She still hasn’t gotten this in her head and she needs time before she... no. She can’t fight this. She needs to tell Jake. That’s what will trigger acceptance surely. Hopefully.
Tears stream down her cheeks, no matter how much she tries to hold them back. She shakes her head violently, trying to make this whole situation disappear and fucking wake up from this nightmare.
Heavy footsteps slowly thud against the wooden floor and Logan wipes her tears away with her sleeve and she hears Jake’s concerned voice calling out to her.
“Princess?” His voice is so flooded with anxiety and the fear of his tone sends shivers all the way through to Logan’s heart. Her already fragile mental state is being all the more fragmented as each second of pain rolls by. “Baby? Come on Lo... where the fuck are you? You’re scaring me, darlin.”
By then, Logan doesn’t have the strength or control to stay silent anymore. She’s had enough time to process. Now she just has to tell him and get it over with. Goddamnit. He was so excited about this and now it’s gonna be all over once those dreaded words leave her lips.
“Jake...” Her breathing comes off heavy and she clutches her stomach when a sharp pain suddenly erupts inside. After a few seconds, it passes. “Fuck... I’m in the bathroom.” She calls out to him and she senses that he definitely caught on to the utter fear enveloped in her tone because of the fact that he starts rushing towards her location a millisecond after she speaks.
A sigh of relief escapes when she catches sight of Jake entering the bathroom but her breath soon gets trapped in her throat when his cerulean eyes widen with worry at the damaged sight of her. He’s stunned by everything. The blood. The anguish in her expression. The fact that she’s clutching her stomach. Her tousled hair. The tears in her usually bright ocean eyes. Her chapped lips. Just all of it. It’s painful to even look at.
Taking in the scene, Jake hurries to sit beside his hurting wife, tilting her chin up just as her gaze falls to the ground and forcing her to look up at him honestly, no matter how much she just wants to look away and pretend he isn’t there. It’s too damn much.
“Princess... what the hell happened? Are you okay? Is the baby...” Jake pauses for a moment, glancing down at Logan’s stomach and back up as soon as his eyes are threatened by water. His panicky state soon takes over and he wordlessly wraps his arms around Logan, seeming to have an exact idea of what’s happened and it hurts him. It really does.
Just as his hand grazes Logan’s shoulder, a shiver erupts within her body and that’s when it finally hits her. That realisation that she’s been pleading for.
“Jake... I lost the baby.” She’s relieved to finally be able to say it out loud but it’s agonising and her heart sinks at the same as Jake’s expression but he chooses to sustain a composure for Logan. He swiftly wraps Logan in a hug, the grief and loss being poured out in that long moment. Everything Logan has been keeping inside finally comes rushing to the surface and Jake lets her cry into his shoulder, her face buried in his chest. “I’m... sorry.”
“Don’t you fucking dare be sorry, Princess. This ain’t your fault.” Jake assures, a slight shakiness to his voice which is completely understandable. He just lost a kid for fuck’s sake. “You couldn’t have known.”
“But Jake I could have...”
“No.” Jake stops her before she can engrave the idea in her mind that all of this happened because of her. But it didn’t. All the good things happened because of her and all the bad things were caused by the world. “These things happen, darlin’. We got no control over stuff like this.” He whispers into her hair, kissing the top of her head lovingly.
Logan melts into his embrace, the thought of the entire situation still haunting her mind however. “But baby... this kid was ours... and I was responsible for keeping it safe...”
“Stop it.” Jake urges, looking Logan dead serious in the eyes, as he presses his lips together to hold back his own tears. “This is not your fucking fault. We just got unlucky, Princess. This was just a flaw in the system. You just gotta get back up and... carry on, no matter how hard it is.”
“But what if I can’t do it?” Logan questions, a look of desperation hinted in her strong gaze.
“Do what?”
Logan sucks in a sharp breath, trying to avoid the rock planted in her throat. “Carry on... what if this isn’t just a flaw and I’ll never be able to give you the true family you deserve?”
Jake is suddenly flooded with worry and he starts to think the worst of what could happen. “Princess... no. You can’t think like that now. Besides, the only things I worried about right now is you.” Jake examines his wife for a moment, unsure what he should do but he knows he needs to take care of her. “Do you want me to take you the hospital? Just in case.”
“No, baby. They’ll just tell me things I’ve already heard and I can’t bear to hear them again.” Logan mutters under her breath. Everything she says comes out as a heavy whisper because that’s all her voice will let her do.
“Are you sure? I’m just thinking about your health, darlin’.” Jake whispers back, using his fingers to smooth out her platinum tousled hair and even wipe some of the tears that never seem to stop falling from her eyes.
Logan simply nods, knocking their foreheads together and sighing shakily against Jake’s lips. He can feel her shivering in his arms and the anxiety immediately washes over him again. It’s her emotions that are haunting her so much more than her physical state. She’s shocked, startled and stunned by what’s happened and she’s finding it unbearable to take in and she’s wondering how Jake is keeping himself so composed.
“I know you are and... I love you so goddamn much for that. Fuck, I don’t know what I’d do without you, Jake. I’d be nothing if you weren’t here to help me through this.” Logan’s meaningful words give her a little bit of herself back and Jake responds by pressing his lips against hers, keeping the kiss light and slow and hoping Logan will release any agony she feels so it could cure her sadness even a little bit.
Once Jake pulls away, he exhales softly, looking down at the floor. “God... this is hard to... process.” He’s starting to think the exact same things that Logan thought about.
Logan bites her lip out of nervousness, forcing herself to cup Jake’s face and she instantly feels like she’s holding the only world she really needs. She notices the conflict going on in Jake’s mind and she can tell he’s struggling. “I know. Why did it have to happen us?”
Jake rests his forehead against Logan’s and lets his fingertips barely graze her collarbone. The simple action sends shivers throughout her body and it cures her depression a little. “I don’t know. The world hates us, I guess.” Jake attempts to chuckle but only a ghosted breath is released.
Logan notices the confusion in his cerulean eyes and there’s clearly an ongoing debate playing out in his head. “Jake... I know you were excited about this.”
“Yeah... but so were you. We can always try again in the future, darlin. But please remember there’s no rush. I don’t want you feeling pressured or burdened. We’ll do it when the time is right and that time is when you’re ready.” Jake assures her, planting a reassuring kiss on her forehead.
“So you understand if I don’t wanna...”
“Of course I do, darlin’. This kind of thing is hard to get over. It scares you.” Jake mutters and Logan lets her hands trail through Jake’s hair, playing with some of the stray strands and it keeps her relaxed in a way.
“God... how are you so amazing?” Logan questions, searching Jake’s eyes for an answer she should already know.
Jake forms a weak smile at that, bringing their lips together a few times before speaking. “It’s ‘cause I got you in my life, Princess.” Jake plants a trail of featherlight kisses from Logan’s jaw to the end of her neck as a way to soothe her. He doesnt want her to break down again because that will break his heart.
“You’re just... perfect. And you would have been a great dad, Jake.” Logan points out, moving one of her hands out of Jake’s hair and caressing the back of his neck. The feeling and her words seem to affect him in a way nothing has before.
“You’d be an even better, mom.” Jake murmurs back, cupping Logan’s cheek and smiling at her faintly.
“I just can’t believe this is happening to you.” Logan suddenly states and Jake is slightly taken aback by her unexpected words.
“What do you mean, baby? This is happening to you too.” Jake corrects and Logan just shakes her head in response.
“That’s not what I mean. You’ve... lost someone else. Maybe that’s why I feel so guilty. You deserve peace for once, Jake. You didn’t ask for any of this.” Logan explains, avoiding Jake’s gaze and hanging her head in shame as the blame creeps back in her head to haunt her again.
Jake isn’t having any of that again. He tilts her chin up with his fingertips and plants a reassuring kiss on her neck, nuzzling for a moment. “That’s right. I didn’t ask for any of it. But I fucking got it and I’ve spent most of my life dealing with those losses on my own but not this time... because I’ve got you. And we’re gonna get through this together.” Jake mutters into Logan’s neck and she flinches at his touch and his meaningful words.
She’s never been this crazy about someone before and Jake isn’t the type she would have wanted to fall in love with at first glance. But knowing the man inside the mask has been one of the best parts of her life. He’s taught her so many things and helped her through so much. They’ve fought battles together and there’s no chance they can’t get through this because they have each other and if they care enough, they’ll manage to move on.
Jake plants yet another blissful kiss on Logan’s lips and she savours this one especially as a feeling of relief finally hits her. Their foreheads join once more and they’re silent for a short moment, almost as if they’re grieving their unborn child together.
“Just so you know... you’ve been through a shitload of losses as well... so don’t feel like I’m the only one who can handle this.” Jake assures, whispering sweetly against Logan’s lips and she can’t manage to form a smile but she can let him know she’s grateful with a thankful kiss.
“I know. This is just... gonna be hard because it was our first.” Logan admits, more tears falling from the defence cages of her eyes since she can’t gather the strength to hold them back and mark them as unwanted.
As her sobs start to grow heavier, Jake wraps his arms tightly around Logan and pulls her against his chest, giving her a chance to let it all out. “Baby... it’s fine. Let it out. Cry as much as you need.”
Logan’s pity party ends quicker than she thought it would and she meets Jake’s honest gaze, noticing how he glances at her stomach from time to time.
“Are you ok, Jake?” She questions worriedly, cupping his cheek with curiosity.
“I just... wanted to get in some last words to the little fella.” Jake confesses, seeming slightly embarrassed as he places his hand behind his head awkwardly.
Accepting his request, Logan gestures to her stomach, a deep breath escaping her. “Please. Go ahead. It might give us both some sort of closure.”
With her permission, Jake leans down and studies Logan’s stomach for a second, trying to avoid the sight of the blood surrounding them. At first, Jake is unaware of what to say but the more he grieves, the more the words come running towards him. Carefully, he presses his hand on Logan’s stomach and she closes her eyes, cherishing this moment and making sure she listens to every word Jake says.
“Hey there little Mckenzie. Damn... that’s hard to say out loud now. Maybe because I thought one day I’d get to say it to your face.” Jake begins, careful about each word he says and he tries to make the most of this moment. “I’m sorry about how the world works. Your mommy and I would have given you the best life we could, if the world had let us. But you would’ve learned that the world sucks eventually. You gotta claw your way to every opportunity and fight for what you want. That’s what I did and nothing really paid off until I met your mommy.” Jake glances at Logan meaningfully and shoots her a lovingly smile. “She saved me and I’m sorry that she couldn’t save you. Hell, I’m sorry we couldn’t save you. You don’t deserve what happened to you and hopefully one day the world will make up for this by giving us what we deserve. We’ll think about you and we’ll cherish you, little McKenzie. You’re in our hearts forever.”
‘Family isn’t what’s in your blood. It’s what’s your heart’
#oh mannn#playchoices#fan fiction#angst#pixelberry#choices stories you play#jake x mc#logan mercer#mc x jake#endless summer#es#choices es#choices fanfic#jake mckenzie#im sorry#very sorry
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I think I liked you better when you didn't have a nice in your hand, Peaches... Chapter 174 - A fireplace and a warm mattress
When Blake finds herself sold out to the Saviours by her abusive fiancé, she realises that she’s certainly not on her own anymore and finds an unlikely friend in Negan. And Negan does NOT like men who beat their girlfriends, one tiny bit…
MASTERLIST
Chapter 174 - A fireplace and a warm mattress
[Negan arrives back at the Sanctuary but there’s someone still on his mind as the night sets in...]
WARNINGS: Smut/Sex
The sky had become pink, tinged with purple, by the time Negan had pulled his truck up into the large Sanctuary lot.
He had left Blake's place a little over an hour ago, a heart-wrenching pain coursing through him the entire journey home.
Shit. He had missed her more than he could say, and seeing her for those few hours, rather than sate his longing for the blonde woman, had in fact only made the pain of leaving her feel far worse.
Negan gave a sigh, running a tanned hand down his face for a moment, before his eyes drifted over to Mia, who was sleeping, buckled into the seat next to him.
Her little head was flopped down onto her own shoulder and her mouth was hanging open. Obviously the excitement of today, and seeing Blake again, had been all too exhausting for the toddler.
Negan got out of the truck (leaving Lucille in the footwell, where she had stayed the entirety of his visit to Blake's too) moving easily around to the passenger door and tugging it open.
The rain had long since stopped leaving the ground sodden and wet beneath his booted feet.
He reached inside to unbuckle Mia, just as he glanced up to see Arat approaching.
"Hey….Negan," she murmured, a hint of warm concern there amongst the formality.
But Negan merely remained quiet, his focus on easing the snoozing toddler from her seat without waking her.
Mia at once gave a small grizzled whine, as Negan hauled her up into his arms with ease.
"Thata' girl, shhh," he hummed lowly, his hand moving up to Mia's tiny back, feeling her head instantly drop to his leather-clad shoulder as she resumed her sleep.
And it was only then, that Negan turned to Arat, shutting the truck's door steadily behind him trying not to wake the sleeping baby..
"Did you see her? I-Is she ok?" Arat said speaking again in a quiet voice. And of course Negan knew who she was referring to, his chest restricting almost instantly at the mere mention of her.
"Peaches' is good," he nodded, his eyes drifting to the ground, as he pressed his lips together.
Goddamnit. He wanted nothing more now than to turn that damn truck around and go out to see her again.
But he stopped, his mind lingering on this thought.
Fuck, he had enough gas, so why didn't he just grow some fucking balls and do it? He was the leader of this god forsaken place and didn't need to answer to anyone. So what was really stopping him?
Negan blinked a couple of times, his heart beginning to pound within his chest.
This was impulsive and probably fucking stupid, but right at this very second he was passed caring.
He looked up at Arat suddenly, giving a small distant frown.
"Can you take sleepin' beauty here up to Frankie an' the girls for the night?" he said, carefully easing Mia into Arat's arms before she could protest.
"I...uh...yeah...sure..but where-" Arat began, but Negan with a grin dancing its way over his lips, merely ignored the curly haired woman once more, moving around to the driver's side of the truck and sliding back into the seat.
For where he was going surely didn't need any explanation…
-------------------------------------------------------
Blake had taken her time to tidy what little mess Mia had made of the living room, before drawing all of the drapes and a lighting a couple of candles as night well and truly set in.
She had made the most of dwelling on their presence here, remembering where Mia and Negan had been, and stood, and what they had touched or commented on. The whole pace filled with more life than it had likely had in it in years.
But god she missed them both already, every fibre of her body screaming for them. Needing them close to her.
Especially Negan on this cold, damp night.
The rain seemed to have eased off somewhat, as all Blake could hear now as the crackling of the fire in the grate and the drip drip drip of the last of the excess rainwater running off the porch guttering.
She sat down onto the couch, sitting back against the cushions and closing her eyes.
She prayed that Negan would keep his words and come back and see her soon.
But gas was a difficult commodity to find at the best of time and the blonde woman knew that each time he made the trip here, that was one less run the Saviours could go out on. One less haul of loot they could bring back for the needy folks back at the Sanctuary.
And Blake knew she was being selfish if she expected Negan to come and see her too often. But still she longed for the dark-haired Saviour, his presence in this home earlier having overwhelmed her senses, bringing back gorgeous memories of night's spent together and the days too of course.
They were a good team, always had been, and Blake was so glad they had found each other.
For now, it almost seemed as though they were always meant to be, and fate had brought them together at the end of all things.
Blake let out a sigh, biting on her lip as her green eyes reached the ceiling above her head.
Mia was her ray of sunlight, making Blake's heart whole again. And Negan was like Blake's oxygen, giving her everything she needed to get better and survive. He was hers and she was his and nothing would change that.
She smiled to herself, lowering her eyes gently, hoping that her sleep tonight would be better. That she would have dreams of love and warmth, instead of nightmares that shattered her sleep into pieces.
Huffing a little, bored after so much excitement long gone now, Blake pushed herself once more from the couch, making to head into the kitchen to grab herself a cup of water from the water she had collected from the well only this morning.
But before she could move, there came a sudden knocking on her front door, sending her jumping in fright at the noise.
Blake frowned, parting her lips, worry flooding through her.
Who would be coming here now, at this time of night?
The blonde woman gulped hard, her eyes fixed now on the darkened hallway beyond the living room door.
Fuck. Sh could hide of course but to what ends?
So not knowing what else to do she slowly crept towards the hallway, hoping perhaps to get a glimpse of who it might be, just as there came another knock, louder this time.
Blake's heart pounded in her chest, as her mind desperately trying to remember where she had stashed her knife.
But she didn't need to….
...for a second later, there came another knock, and with it a low murmur of a voice outside the door.
"Peaches, open up, it's me…"
Blake stopped dead, a look of utter disbelief appearing over her face in the shadowy hallway.
But in an instant, the caramel-blonde woman had moved to the door, and tugged it open with a flourish….
…. to find Negan stood there, breathing hard, looking as though he had almost run here hair windswept and messy, chin lowered to his collarbone..
And now, even in the gloom of late evening, Blake could see the look that lingered in his eyes, one of yearning for her now. And one that Blake was surely she was mirroring as he stared up into his hazel orbs.
The handsome dark-haired man was stood before her now in the same clothes as earlier, his usual rumpled black leather-jacket, white t-shirt, grey pants. But he now had the addition of Lucille hanging loose from his left hand.
He looked like a wolf now, hungry for his prey, ready to devour her at any second.
"Negan...w-what are you doing back here, I-" Blake just about managed to utter, with a disbelieving shake of her head.
But before she could say even another word, Negan had, all of a sudden, lifted his hand to her cheek, stepped over the threshold….
….pressing his lips firmly to hers.
Blake felt herself instantly smiling into the kiss, elated, giddy at the fact that he was here again.
But mid-way through a laugh, she gave his jacket-covered chest a shove, prising her mouth from his.
"You said you'd be back in a day or two..." she said she shaking her head once more.
But Negan didn't reply, merely kissing her again and cutting her off as she audibly squeaked out a giggle into his lips.
"Negan…" she laughed.
But the dark-haired man was unrelenting now, maneuvering Blake backwards as he took a long step into the hallway, kicking the front door shut behind him with his booted heel.
Blake parted her lips, letting out a pleasurable moan as his hot tongue flicked against hers.
She heard him drop the bat in his hand to the floor, his big calloused hands reaching both her hips as he eased her backwards pressing her into the wall behind her.
Blake felt a heat emanating off of him now despite the cold night air that had already settled inside the small house, as he pressed his tall, lean form up against hers, their lips grazing each others again and again, parting and meeting audibly in the gloom.
Blake felt her lower abdomen lurch with arousal as her hands slid up and over his shoulders, her fingers threading through the dark hair at the nape of his neck.
It was the first time she had felt this way in weeks and couldn't deny now that it felt good, her panties flooding with a creamy wetness, as one of his hands reached the wall just over her shoulder, steadying himself against her.
She pulled away breathlessly. "Negan-" she tried, smiling, but Negan barely allowed his name to leave her lips, as he grazed them once again with his own.
But Blake, at this, moved her hand down to his chest, pressing her hand to his chest and forcing him to stop.
The tall Saviour pulled away from her, giving a pout at the disturbance.
"Negan, stop for a second. " Blake said, breathlessly, smiling up at him. "W-What are you doing here?"
Negan stared down at her now, his lips curving up into a wide grin as he leaned into her, his hot breath grazing her ear.
"Missed ya..." he murmured, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to her pulse-point causing Blake to close to her eyes and bite down longingly on her plump and bee-stung bottom lip.
But she shook herself, frowning bemusedly at his words.
"You've only been gone two hours," she said with a gentle laugh, which caused him to pull back and look at her.
He was a wolf now waiting for her to become one too.
But Blake merely pursed her lips together, giving a long slow blink.
"C'mon," she muttered with a small roll of her eyes, as Negan dived back in to kiss her again. But this time she dodged neatly out of his reach, grasping his hand and pulling him in the direction of the warm living room. "It's freezing out here."
And from behind her she heard him give a needy groan, but follow her obediently anyway, closing the door with a snap behind him.
Levang Lucille on the floor in the darkened hallway…
Abandoned…
---------------------------------------------
Blake had been right, it was far warmer in here than that cold hallway, despite how hot under the collar Negan had gotten.
He watched the damn goddess in front of him, as she stopped just short of the mattress on the floor in front of the fireplace, before turning back to him , a smile lingering on gorgeous features.
Fuck, Negan was in love with her, and couldn't help the way he was tailing her now like a damn school-kid with his first crush.
He felt like a man obsessed, under her damn spell. Not that he fucking minded all that much of course…
Negan let out a small sigh, lifting his chin and closing the gap between the pair of them as Blake wrinkled her nose, throwing her head back in delight as Negan leaned his face in, his lips finding her throat.
"Negan...s-stop!" she managed to say in between a laugh, prising him from her once more.
He ran his tongue over his lips teasingly as she pulled away. "Can't get enough of you, Darlin'..." he growled, earning himself a shake of the blonde's head.
"Stop," she scolded once more, and this time Negan did ease off with another hard sigh.
She could be a hard one to read, and Negan wasn't going to push his luck now and risk everything with her again.
He needed her now and didn't want to be the one to make some dumbass mistake and have her disappear from his life for god knows how long. Especially as he had only just gotten her back.
So he leaned back against his legs instead, his dark eyes roaming over her soft features, watching as she cocked her head to the side, licking at her bottom lip gently.
"So, did you just dump Mia back at the Sanctuary and then drive back here to make out with me, is that it?" she goaded, with a smirk, folding her arms over her chest. Leaning all of her weight onto one hip.
But Negan lifted his hand and scratched at the underside of his chin with a single tanned digit.
"Oh hell fuckin' yeah, Sweetheart," he growled back. "Daddy's gotta get his kicks somewhere. And where better, than some goddamn love-shack just down the road with a blonde, hot. as. SHIT, fuckin’ fox!"
He gave his eyebrows a waggle, watching with glee as Blake rolled her eyes at his comment.
"Love-shack…" she muttered, with a despairing shake of her head.
"Alright then what would you call it, Peaches?" he asked. "Cause we'd practicaly fuckin' signed the damn papers for this place bein' our next vacation home before you decided moved your oh-so fine fuckin' ass in here. See, we could've been grillin' out out back, got ourselves one of those pop up pools, you coulda' been in that kitchen in there makin' us some margaritas...livin' the apple pie life."
He saw Blake gave a gentle smile,a hint of something lingering in her eyes.
Was it perhaps a yearning for all that?
Because as much as Negan joked about all that shit, there would have been nothing he could have wanted more now, than to share shit like that with her.
His mind now, as it so often did, drifting to the world as it once had been, where the possibilities of where life could have taken them, endless. And yet now that that perfect fucking American dream, of having a goddamn family, and a nice house, and even a damn dog, was nigh on impossible.
And unfortunately both of them knew now that this dream of theirs would only be just that.
"Sounds perfect," she murmured gently. "Although I can cook a mean hot dog. So how about I man the grill, while you make the margaritas."
Negan grinned at this, marvelling at her proudly.
"Oh it's a done fuckin' deal, Sweetheart," he said, with an enthusiasm to his voice.
They stared each other out for a long moment, Blake let her eyes drop to the floor for a second, before gazing back up to him once again.
"So…" she said chewing on her lip and tilting her head to the side. "...you, uhh, planning on booking a room here at Casa el Blake, or was it more of a flying visit? Because, well, it's a pretty long drive back to the Sanctuary from here and it's getting kinda late."
There was a twinkle in her eyes now that hadn't been there a moment ago, causing Negan to tilt his own long head to the side.
"That you anglin' for a slumber party with yours truly, Darlin'?" Negan growled, dipping his chin, his eyes taking every inch of her in as she turned on the spot and smiled at him over her shoulder, tossing a cushion from the couch in his direction.
"Only if you're the big spoon,"she purred teasingly, causing Negan's grin to widen as he showed off his line of straight, white teeth.
Fuck, she really was goddamn amazing…
And the dark-haired man could only let out a shuddering breath, watching as she began to unbutton her shirt, peeling it from her shoulders to reveal just a black cotton bra beneath that clung to her smooth tanned skin like it was the most expensive of silks.
"You can take the couch if you like…" she uttered in a soft voice, as though telling him he was off the hook if that's what he wanted.
But Negan gave a frown, taking a step towards her, parting his lips, his grin disappearing as he closed the gap between them.
"That what you want?" he asked in what was just a whisper, here, in the warm light of the open fire, that flickered over Blake's face, illuminating her in blushes of orange and gold.
But the blonde, to Negan's relief, let out a shallow breath, placing her hand to his chest, her fingers wrinkling the fabric.
She shook her head. "I want you with me..." she said in a mere ghost of a voice, causing, what felt like every inch of Negan, to ache with a longing for her.
And with that, Blake, toying with the zipper of Negan's leather jacket, slowly tugged it down until it was undone. Negan only releasing his breath when the blonde let go, turning away once more to shimmy her pants down her thighs, kicking them away.
Negan noticed her give a small shiver before kneeling down onto the mattress by the fire, before clambering beneath the comforter.
Once in, she gazed up at him, offering him a smile.
You gonna stand there all night?" she asked in a quiet voice.
Damn.
He was done for.
Negan's eyes lingered on hers, a small lump appearing in his throat.
Fuck, he wanted her bad, but was this her saying she wanted him too?
He remembered what she had said to him only a couple of weeks ago, about understandably not being ready for sex again.
Had she changed her mind? It was fucking hard to tell.
And so, giving a hard gulp to steady himself, Negan made up his mind...that rather than put himself in awkward position, only to be turned down by her again, he would be the perfect fucking gentleman. Of course he fucking would be.
"Well shit I thought we were goin' to be braidin' each other's hair first and talkin' about boys," he said with a teasing grin, sliding his jacket from his shoulders and tossing it backwards onto the couch behind him, before pulling his white t-shirt over his head and letting that join the pile.
He noticed Blake's smile falter for a fraction of a second as she caught sight of his bare torso, but she fixed the warm smirk back onto her features before replying.
"Some of us need our beauty sleep," she murmured softly, with a small wrinkle of her nose, making Negan's grin widen.
"Well Jesus fucking Christ, Sweetheart, if you manage get any more damn beautiful, I'm gonna have to start battin' those fuckers away with Lucille," he said with a lick of his lips as he slipped off his boots and his fingers began to expertly unbuckle his black leather belt.
Blake bit her lip, making a face of silent laughter at his words.
"Anyone ever tell you you're a total charmer?" she commented lightly after a second had passed, as Negan pulled off his pants leaving him in just a pair of black boxers.
But the dark-haired Saviour narrowed his eyes brightly, poking his tongue out through his line of white teeth. "Oh, all the fuckin' time, Peaches…" he growled back, pacing across the small space between himself and the mattress, before easing himself down onto it with a stiff groan. "One of my many qualities which makes me so goddamn irresistible to people of the opposite sex."
It was far warmer down here by the a fire, and with cold legs, Negan slid himself beneath the comforter beside Blake as she shifted over making room for him, propping up her head with her elbow and coming to lie on her side.
"That so?" she purred, smirking.
And Negan who grunted again as he shifted underneath the sheets slightly, moved to mirror her pose, a grin still lingering on his lips.
"Mmmhmmm," he murmured back huskily, his hand sliding over around her waist, tugging her suddenly into him. "Most fuckin' definitely, Darlin'"
He practically growled the words into her ear, as she squirmed a little under the covers. But this was not the squirming of the last time he had tried to hold her in bed. For this was full of something different now, as her bare leg brushed his, the curves of her body fitting perfectly in his.
Blake's delicate hand came up, her fingers threading themselves through the back of his hair, as her lips grazed against his, barely touching him but giving him enough to make him almost groan with a longing as she teased him.
The heat of the fire at this distace felt like it was burning his skin, bathing the pair of them in a orange haze that seemed to consume the dark-haired Saviour.
He felt like he was under a spell, unable to breathe, his chocolate eyes filled with a fire, locked with Blake's.
His calloused hand slid over her skin, gliding up her spine, savouring the closeness between them.
"Peaches..."
The word escaped Negan's lips with a whispered breath as her mouth hovered against his own.
His body was urging him on, his heart pounding, his cock throbbing, but still he held off, not wanting to overstep his mark.
Not wanting to fucking force Blake into things she didn't want.
But this teasing of hers was fucking killing him, another hard gulp trailing its way down his bearded throat, the movement catching the blonde's eye.
She pulled away from him for a second, her dark green eyes blown wide as she pressed herself into him, feeling the heat of her burning his skin, the scent of her filling his nostrils.
Negan let out a difficult breath, closing his eyes and groaning out as she felt her hitch her leg up over his, her fingers trailing down his chest and coming to stop just above the waistband of his boxers.
She was everything he had ever wanted now.
Far too good for him.
Like a angel sent from heaven, tangled up with him, a guy that most certainly belonged in Hell.
He felt her now press a kiss to his earlobe, her face and neck hovering in front of him.
And Negan couldn't help but let out a needy grunt, his eyes rolling back into his skull as he felt her teeth graze his ear, tugging on his earlobe wickedly.
"Darlin'..." he groaned, almost pleading with her now. "You've gotta stop this teasin'..."
But she didn't…
...In fact she did the opposite…
Her hand instead sliding down and brushing over his cock, hard and erect beneath his black underwear.
Negan gave a hard swallow, parting his lips as a frown line came to rest between his brows, feeling a drop of pre-cum leak out from his tight swollen head at this contact.
He looked at her, gazing into her eyes, the question there, that Negan barely needed answering now, as his gaze met with hers. That one look for the caramel-blonde woman he loved so fucking much, telling him all he needed to know...
Blake wanted him and he wanted her.
Oh so fucking much.
And without another word exchanged between the pair of them, Negan's mouth found hers.
She tasted good, better than ever before, if that was even possible.
And amidst trembling hands and soft moans, Blake had pushed down her damp panties and Negan's boxers were off…
...and he found himself inside her, before either of them could stop themselves.
His hand was behind the crook of her knee, her thigh hitched up around his hips, perfecting the angle between them, as hot breaths filled the room, mixed with the crackling of the fire beside them.
Blake moaned out in pleasure and so did he. Again and again and again.
Negan felt closer to her now than he had in a long time, thrusting up into her, as she held him close, urging him on, her hips moving against him like waves on the ocean.
He felt now like a man possessed. Obsessed. Infatuated. Not having felt this way about another person in his lifetime. Even Lucille, with who things had always been bittersweet between them, high school sweethearts but probably too young for what each of them had been thrown into...good sex...marriage...even a steady, faithful relationship. And as much as he had loved her, with him and Blake, this was different.
So very intense…
He needed her. She was like his lifeforce, leaving everything else forgotten, like there was only the two of them now.
And here and now, in this little white house away from everything, there was.
Negan breathed the blonde woman in, his nose sliding against the burning skin of her neck, intoxicating him.
Her scent was honey and the ripest and sweetest of peaches.
He longed for her, body so achingly desperate for hers as they writhed against each other, each coming apart moment by moment.
"Negan…" Blake murmured breathlessly, with parted lips grazing over his temples and fingers trailing down his chest.
The heat between them seemed to scorch the sheets tangled around the pair of them, even in the cool night air.
And Negan let a harsh 'fuck' escape his lips as, after when felt like eons of being locked together, needing release, that he felt Blake, her tanned collarbone beaded with sweat, arching her spine against the mattress beneath her.
And at that tell-tale feeling of her soaking walls clenching around his dick, Negan let his head fall forward against Blake's shoulder, his orgasm crashing through each of their bodies like a speeding freight train.
They held each other there in the moment, for what could have possibly been hours to Negan, all sense of time lost on him now.
But eventually, with another groan, the dark-haired Saviour rolled himself off of her, onto his side, his chest rising and falling hard as he tried desperately to catch what little breath he had left in him, feeling well and truly spent.
The tall, naked Saviour gazed at the caramel-blonde woman beside him now, both of them knowing that had been...well, that had been more than just sex.
Instead it was love, and passion, and intensity, and something that Negan knew he would never share with another again as long as he lived.
Blake caught her breath, the slightest of well-pleasured frowns grazing her own beaded brow as she lifted a hand to his stubbly cheek, her thumb grazing along the hollow around his eye and up to the scar that lingered there at his cheekbone.
"I love you.." she managed to say, in what was barely a whisper, and far more of barely held in breath that had escaped her lips almost by accident.
And Negan let his hand slide around her body, pulling her into him, waist-first, as he lifted his mouth to hers tracing her lips with his own as he spoke, in the stillness of the night...
"Fuck, I love you too, Blake," he whispered out in an earnest voice, saying her name out loud, as though the very words were etched into his soul. "I love you too..."
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@collette04 | @attorneyl | @mssharingisfun | @sakuraxx0 | @daydreamsandchai | @onemorebeautifulnightmare | @arwa-alii | @maggiesourie | @blumenkind72 | @toloaughistolove | @negans-womam| @elinyaes | @starbabysparkle| @mwesterfeld1985 | @letseatandsleep | @xxqueenofisolationxx| @lovesjdm | @padmeisgay | @karlbourbonismyhero | @lfsbitencourt | @toxic-ink | @laaadygisbooornex3 | @cutiedaij| @warriorqueen1991 | @ask-kakashihatake | @beast-by-name | @ourtenderescapes | @itstheamandashow| @side-xix-men | @dessie | @soythedemonqueen | @lovelynerdytraveler |@joelssmugglingservice | @sophiestru24 | @intensemindorgasms | @jenn0755 | @nerdygirlwithacrush | @ali-in-fandomland | @spn-mudkip | @neganismyobsession | @ryantherandomhero| @embee222 | @neganslilbitch | @theofficialduke | @xagateophobiax | @xagateophobiax | @nu1freakshow | @simplysiriuslyjoking | @negan5589 | @blondielovesr5-blog | @ididntchoosethislife | @andreainfla618 | @yezzyzzz | @jessiellong1987 | @likearaindropfilledwithgoldust | @kristenallison04 | @vanilla-negan | @simplysiriuslyjoking | @shannmiw | @qhbr2013 | @uncharte-dlove | @nerdaspe | @thedeadwalks | @pizzaisrelationshipgoals| @kalista225 | @saved-by-fiction | @nerdywriter| @hayleighloatx| @miss-cap21 | @julietdanielle08 | @teamnegansaviors | @haileyk2601 | @peoplealwaysleave89 | @nyakozhovur | @theunwantedwriter| @kateyasher | @myrabbitholetoneverland| @topthis808 | @depressed-teenagekids | @curlyhairedblueeyedangel | @band--psycho | @artisticlales | @messybitch802 | @itstotalyblue | @luciferandaleks | @queenofthesole | @athena1504 | @sighsophiia | @make-things-beautiful2 | @lynn1712 | @thamberlina | @batmanlover1593 | @jdmsgal | @queenslandlover-93 | @neganrpblog | @michellevalvona | @roguesandsaviors | @godaddy-winchester | @fuckyeafishes | @hotdigggittydogg | @thewingeddragon | @negan-the-cat | @little-big-mac | @longlostx11 | @izabellexmorningstar | @catlovescats | @lunatheumbreonreplies | @mytreasures4eternity47 | @itookherteethies | @laura-clapton| @justnatalies | @queen0fants | @belsoleleann| @yellatthetopofyourlungs | @lellatron | @bvckysbrns | @shesxperfect | @omqstyleseditss | @tigger4367 | @ohmy-sammy | @ainhoitaoz| @youshouldloveyourselfbruh | @winteerrose | @babeinthesun| @topthis808 | @colormewhole | @so-i-died | @a-little-catty | @sannamahlkvist | @the-nuup | @i-fucking-rock| @deanervs | @searchf0rtheskyline | @emmyhaynes | @thisistjross | @future-ll-evans | @starlessskies94 | @lellatron | @carolines24 | @youll-all-get-yours | @jackybehappy | @shadesofarrogance | @candiloverr | @emybug101 | @imstonecoldnegan | @sapphirerose0122 | @katerinas | @blondekel77 | @thetruebornwildchild | @ambx2 | @bibailey | @nekocookie11 | @mellowspypersonadeputy | @champagnesugamama | @lostdarksoul6 | @babygirlmeepi | @may-machin | @julyintherain12 | @drina365 | @bob-giovanni | @journeyrose | @faith-lynn9 | @mellowspypersonadeputy | @queenredfury
#negan#negans-network#negan twd#The Walking Dead#twd#negan fic#negan oc#negan fanfic#negan otp#negan and blake#negan story#negan series#negan the walking dead#negan slow burn#Jeffrey Dean Morgan#jdm#jdm smut#smut#negan saviours#negan reader#negan hot#negan gif#negan ofc
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Dark Silence train of thought
Hi I am freaking out, how are you? these are my million mph thoughts if you’d like to read a huge fuckin brain dump, cool
EDIT: this got very long I’m soRRY FJALKFD
Who was that really at the end with Anti??? was it Chase or Jack?? bc we heard a bunch of children’s voices, and still no true confirmation that Jack’s woken up from a coma yet
was this in real life or some kind of weird dimension? could it be a nightmare or a vision during a coma?
ANTI WHAT THE FUCK
if the glitch bitch does ANYTHING to Chase’s children i will immediately unstan him
FULL-BODY ANTI
what if there’s some weird fuckin twist where that somehow wasn’t actually Anti at the end?? rational thoughts are failing me so idk if that’s even possible but??? aaaAAHHHHh???
so light changes are a sign of Anti?
WHERE THE FUCK IS JACKIEBOY MAN IN THIS MESS
OR MARVIN
OR JJ ACTUALLY
THE FUCK
Jack’s acting is absolutely incredible and I want to hug that man for all of this. Signe’s camera work is beyond amazing and I would like to hug her too. Robin’s editing is fucking insane for this and sells the atmosphere better than anything I’ve ever seen for him being the only person working on it, and I want to hug that cube man as well.
im supposed to be studying calculus whoopsies
that aint gonna happen
“aint” has the same letters as “anti” oh my god
Is Anti currently going after Chase or Jack? or is he somehow able to go after both simultaneously?
THAT FUCKING LENS FLARE
I feel like a fool for writing out a theory last week about why Anti wouldn’t appear
Anti just came in and bitchslapped that shit outta here
I am deceased
Jack I fucking love/hate you right now
I am super glad that Mayhem2k18 is still officially happening and didn’t end on that depressing vid of Chase
it makes a lot of sense that pink/red colors are associated with Anti since that’s literaLLY THE INVERSE OF GREEN
THEY’RE GODDAMN OPPOSITES SO OF GODDAMN COURSE THEY’D HAVE OPPOSITE GODDAMN COLORS GODDAMNIT
why is Anti barefoot. just.... why
he’s gonna go slappin all over Jack’s floors
unless he has socks on to keep them lil feetsies warm
don’t want a cold demon boi with cold demon toesies
all of the frames from the glitches are either terrifying nightmare fuel or extremely derpy looking. there is no in-between.
fucking hell Robin just how long did this take to edit???
BLOOPERS
why doesn’t Anti have a cut on his neck? is this before Say Goodbye even happened? or can he heal from that?
what if it’s not Anti at all?
I already asked that earlier fuck
building off of earlier thoughts: what exactly do the children’s voices mean? are they Chase’s kids (it better fucking not be), or just a manifestation of Jack’s fears and he always hears when Anti’s around?
the whispers in this video were the same as the one’s from Stories Untold 4 so... we were seeing the nightmare he woke up from, then?
I hate whispering sounds apparently
not like... in an “oh no teh whisper are scawy DX” kinda way
but i just.... mmmm nope, do not like
that better not be another fuckin auditory trigger, brain; you’ve made enough of those, we don’t need normal things like whispering to join them
SIGNE’S CINEMATOGRAPHY IS 👌 👌 👌 GODDAMN
seriously without her helping out we wouldn’tve had NEARLY as amazing shots
...no offense Seán
but Signe is has an amazing eye for this stuff, you just worry about acting n shit, k?
i have rewatched the ending so many times now
WHY DOES .25 SPEED MAKE IT SO MUCH FUCKN CREEPIER JEEZ
THE HEAD THING = NOPE
Jack went from adorable giddy fanboy w/ Ryan Reynolds to absolute murder bean in a fuckin hurry
WHERE THE FUCK IS JACKIE? SERIOUSLY
Marvin/JJ/whoever the fuck is tryna wake up Jack can y’all hurry it up please
..but also don’t bc I love seeing freaky videos like this
so if we’re seeing Jack’s comatose nightmares, does that mean that Anti’s just a figment of his imagination
as in he’s never been real
will we ever get an expLANATION FOR MOTHERFUCKING OVERNIGHT WATCH
probably not
that’s the last time we saw Anti wasn’t it
damn
maybe Jackieboy Man hasn’t shown up bc he and Jack are one and the same
I am 1000004% ready for a JBM vs Anti showdown
or Marvin vs Anti too
magic cat man deserves more showtime gdi, he’s the oldest ego here and he’s barely had any attention compared to Grits Bits over here
gringle bungle,,,,, gloat boat,,,,,, grin bin
fuck this is turning into that ASG post from a while ago-
SEAN IT IS 5 AM YOUR TIME GET OFF TUMBLR YOU CUCK
oh that got rid of the bullet points rip
it’s ok I fixed it
guess y’all kinda have an idea of how long I’ve been adding stuff to this now huh
hm I have an AP exam in.... 6 hours, cool
thanks Jack for choosing the day before it to dump the entirity of hell on us :D
no but really I missed this
IF THERE’S NOTHING ANTI-RELATED FOR LIKE 6N MONTHS AFTER THIS IM GOING TO DIE
YOU BETTER NOT KILL OFF ANYONE EITHER, SEAN
can I start referring to Robin as “accomplice cube” again?
plz
that was one of my proudest moments here
and it’s quite fitting for now
Why doesn’t Jack remember the egos?? or is that simply his form of fuckery for us, and it doesn’t actually tie in to this bizarre plot thing going on?
Signe better not start pretending to not know the egos too...... shes the last one i trust ok
#jacksepticeye#mayhem2k18#mayhem18#this is gonna be my brain dump post#so i'll probably add on more stuff throughout the day#cool
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This Is How I Disappear Ch. 9
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
——— Negan’s POV ———
Fuck. That feels good.
I open my eyes and see Chuck’s face right in front of mine lazily bobbing up and down in my field of vision.
“Chuck. What the fuck are you doing?”
“Don’t you want this?”
She pulls back from my face to sit up and I see that she’s completely fuckin’ naked. And sitting on my dick. And my dick is very much inside her.
“Fuck yes, I want this.” I slide my hands up her soft thighs, past her hips, and up her smooth sides to squeeze her fucking perfect tits.
She starts to slowly grind on my dick as she runs her fingers softly up and down my stomach and it feels so fucking good. I can tell that I’m not gonna last very long, but I don’t really fuckin’ care right now.
“Fuck, baby. You’re so perfect.”
She bends her body down to mine and I bring my arm around her to squeeze her into me hard. Like I can’t get close enough to her.
“Negan,” she whispers in my ear.
“Shit. I’m close, Chuck.” I lazily start to thrust my hips into her. She’s not moving enough for me.
“Negan...”
“Don’t fuckin’ stop.” She’s so warm. And tight. Fuckin’ perfect.
“Negan.”
“Fuck. I’m gonna cum.”
“Negan! Wake up!”
——— ———
“Wake up, Negan!” Chuck yells as she shakes Negan’s face with her free left hand.
Negan has her pinned to him chest to chest, his left arm around her back with his hand grasping her left shoulder. “What? What the fuck? Is something wrong?” Negan blurts out, half asleep. He lets go of Chuck and sits up a little bit in the bed.
“You tell me. You were squeezing me. It kinda hurt. I think you were having a nightmare.”
“Fuck,” he breathes out as he rubs his face and sits up fully. He turns away from Chuck and swings his legs over the side of the bed, resting his elbows on his knees and cradling his head.
“Are you okay? I’m sorry I made fun of you earlier about not sleeping. I didn’t know you had nightmares, too,” Chuck says genuinely.
“I wasn’t having a fucking nightmare, Chuck.”
“I think you were. You were definitely dreaming. You were moving around and making noises...” she says innocently.
“But it wasn’t a nightmare.”
“What?” Chuck is confused as to why he won’t admit it. Then it hits her. “Oh! Oh my god, Negan!” She sits up fully as quickly as she can given her still healing injury. “Were you having a sex,” she harshly whispers the word as if other people might hear it, “dream?! With me in the same bed?!”
“Looks like it.” His tone is almost like he’s embarrassed.
“Oh my god. That’s... hilarious!” She starts to laugh uncontrollably, clutching onto her left side as the motion pulls at her stitches.
“What the fuck?” Negan looks back at Chuck like she’s a crazy person. “You think this is fuckin’ funny?”
“Isn’t it?” She manages to say after her laughter dies down. “Why are you having sex dreams, anyway? Don’t you get enough from the wives?” she quips as she grips her sore side.
“Shut the fuck up. I haven’t gotten my dick wet since you got fuckin’ attacked. My mind has been fuckin’ elsewhere.”
“I’m very sorry my injury took a toll on your love life,” Chuck jokes sarcastically. “Wait a minute. So you not having sex for like five days frustrates you so much that you have sex dreams? Oh you poor, poor baby. How do you even live?” She lays the sarcasm on pretty thick.
“Fuck you, Chuck. Giving me shit. You know, I was afraid that this kinda shit would freak you the fuck out and you’d be scared of me. But, you know what, I’d prefer that to whatever this shit you’re doing is.”
“I’m familiar with human anatomy, Negan. I know you can’t help it. And I know it’s not because of me. It’s just an involuntary reaction. I’m not freaked out because of your... you know.” She giggles.
“Erect dick?”
“I was trying to think of a ladylike word.”
“There’s no ladylike way to talk about hard cocks.”
“Your... masculine eminence?” She offers with a smirk.
“Yeah, yeah. I like that,” he says with a small laugh. “But seriously. If you want me to sleep on the couch-“
“You don’t have to do that. Just don’t... make a mess in the bed when I’m here. If you can manage that, I’ll be fine,” she comments with red cheeks as she lays herself back in the bed.
“I’ll try my fuckin’ hardest not to.” Negan turns back around and gets back into bed.
Chuck cuddles up to him just like she had done earlier in the night. “So living together for a few weeks is already starting off swimmingly.”
“Yeah. It’s a barrel of fuckin’ laughs.”
The next morning, Chuck wakes up to an empty bedroom. She figures Negan had left some time earlier to do whatever it was that he did around The Sanctuary. She drags herself from the bed and slowly walks into the kitchen.
She opens the refrigerator to get something for breakfast. “What can I eat?” she mutters to herself as she bends down to look inside.
“You want me to make you something?”
“Ah!” she screams in surprise and slams the refrigerator door shut revealing Negan standing on the other side.
“Shit, Chuck!”
“I didn’t think you were here!” She grasps her side and groans in discomfort.
“I was in the fuckin’ office! Fuck. Are you okay?”
She clutches her chest with her other hand and laughs a little. “I think so. Don’t sneak up on me!”
“Jesus. I didn’t mean to.” He gives her a quick look, making sure she’s okay. “Now get out of the way and I’ll make you something.”
She moves off to the side and Negan takes her place, opening the refrigerator door and getting out the ingredients he wants.
“You want eggs and toast. I got fuckin’ fresh bread and butter yesterday.”
“Yeah. That sounds great. Sunny side up, please.” Chuck shuffles around to the other side of the counter and gingerly sits down on one of the stools, waiting for her breakfast. Negan continues to cook without saying a word. His silence catches Chuck off guard. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fuckin’ great. Why are you asking?”
“You’re being quiet. You’re never quiet.”
“I can be fuckin’ quiet.”
“Is this about last night?”
“Fuck,” he breathes out as he finishes up her food and places it in front of her. He starts to move around the kitchen putting bread into the toaster to make himself some.
“I’ve felt your... erection before. It’s not a big deal-“
“Jesus Christ, Chuck!” He pauses his motion and turns to her.
“Well. We sleep close together and I know that happens with men during the night. It doesn’t bother me. I mean, it’s kinda awkward but-“
“Why didn’t you fucking tell me?”
“I thought you were aware.” She takes a bite of her food. “I mean it is your body,” she says with her mouth full.
“ No ,” he drags out. “Why didn’t you tell me you fucking felt it?” His toast pops up and he begins to spread the homemade butter on it a bit too forcefully.
“You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”
He turns around to face her from the other side of the counter and takes a bite of his toast. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Chuck,” he starts, frustration lacing his words. “Is that so fuckin’ weird? You were hurt by men before. I don’t want you to think I just go and rub my fuckin’ dick all over you at night.“
“I know you don’t do that, Negan. God.” She lets out a huff in frustration of her own. “I’m telling you I’m not uncomfortable with you. I trust you. I know you would never hurt me like that, okay? If you made me uncomfortable I wouldn’t be here.”
“Fine.”
“Yes. It’s fine. I never talked about it because it’s just kinda awkward and I don’t really know what I’m doing here. I mean, I’ve never really been close with a man before like I am with you. The only men I’ve ever really lived with were at Rolling Acres. And we weren’t really... domestic, if you remember. Our interactions weren’t exactly... friendly. I’m not sure what’s appropriate to talk about in a normal friendship with a man.”
He lets out a huff. “No. I get it.” He finishes his toast and turns around to pour himself some juice. “So you’re comfortable with my dick, huh?” he asks as he turns back to her with a small grin on his face.
“Well... within reason, I suppose. Don’t go flashing me.” She shrugs. “While we’re on the subject, you’re going to have to get comfortable enough with my uterus to procure me some pads or tampons or something because I can feel that I’m probably going to start my period in a couple of days. Unless you want me to hobble around downstairs by myself. Or bleed all over everything,” she says as she finishes her own breakfast.
“Aw, goddamnit. I’m gonna have to deal with that shit?”
“You’re the one that insisted I live with you. And I come with a functioning uterus. It’s a package deal.”
Negan sighs. “The wives have a storeroom up here with all that shit. I’ll grab you some things later, alright?” he says with his arms outstretched as if she were asking some huge favor.
“Thanks. That’s so big of you,” she responds sarcastically. “Will you change my bandage and help me get dressed while you’re still here?”
“Yeah, sure.”
They move back into the bedroom and Chuck gets her clean outfit out, setting it on the bed. As soon as Chuck turns back to Negan, he begins to lift her shirt up just like he did the night before.
“Wait, Negan! I don’t have a bra on!”
“Shit!” He drops her shirt. “Well, what the fuck do you want me to do?” he asks. “You know I’ve already seen your tits anyway.”
“Ugh. Don’t remind me. Just shut your eyes until I turn around.”
He helps her remove her shirt, all the while keeping his eyes closed. She picks her bra up, puts it on, and turns around to face away from Negan.
“Okay, you can look. Will you latch it.”
He opens his eyes and clumsily tries to latch the bra. After a few failed attempts, and several giggles from Chuck, he’s successful.
“I’ve literally never had to latch a fuckin’ bra, okay? I’m a pro at taking them fuckin’ off, but not putting them back on.” He lets out a chuckle and she joins in.
“You might as well change the bandage before you put my shirt back on.”
“Yeah. Okay.” He gets the supplies from his coffee table and kneels down in front of her to change her dressings. “This is hard on my fuckin’ knees, you know.”
“We could’ve done it on the bed, I suppose.”
“Doing it on the bed sounds like a great idea.” He looks up at her with a grin on his face.
“Shut up. Not everything is a euphemism,” she says as he cleans around her stitches.
“Not with that fuckin’ attitude, I guess.”
“Will you just put my shirt on?” she groans, exasperated after he finishes with the gauze.
“I’m gonna take your shorts off first. I’m an old fucking man, Chuck. I can’t be getting up and down a million goddamn times.”
“Fine. But will you... close your eyes when you take my underwear off?”
“I’ve seen pussies before, sweetheart.”
“Jeez, Negan! I know! I’m just self conscious. It’s bad enough that you’re seeing me this undressed.” She feels her cheeks start to flush.
“You look fine, baby girl.” He looks up at her with a grin.
“Please.” She looks back down at him with big puppy dog eyes.
“I’ll close my eyes, sweetheart. Jesus.” He shuts his eyes and pulls her shorts and underwear down. She puts her hands on his shoulders to steady herself as she steps out of her clothes. He raises his hand up indicating that he’s ready for the clean pair of underwear.
“Here.” She pushes the garment into his hand and steadies herself on his shoulders again. She steps into the leg holes and Negan pulls the clothing up to her hips.
“Can I open my eyes?” His brows are furrowed as he speaks, like he is getting angry at something.
“Yeah,” she says as she grabs her jeans and hands them to Negan. He helps her into them and stands up with a groan, taking her shirt off the bed as he does so.
“So,” he begins as he put the shirt on her. “Did Carson close his eyes when he helped you into your fucking panties or did he get a big fuckin’ eyeful of your goddamn naked fuckin’ body?” His words contain a bit of anger.
“Negan...” She tries to back away from him but he leans into her personal space.
“Did he?” He glares at her as he speaks.
“I was covered with a blanket, okay?” She says quickly. “I was laying in the bed with a blanket over the important bits. He was completely professional.”
“Goddamnit,” he growls out as he starts to pace.
“Negan, stop. Everything is fine. I wasn’t uncomfortable with him. I mean, I was the normal amount of uncomfortable...”
“He put his hands on you.” Negan points to her to accentuate his point.
“No he didn’t. Not like that. Calm down. Please. It’s nothing,” she pleads.
“I’ll kill that motherfucker-“
“Stop!” she yells to get his attention. “I don’t like this, Negan. You don’t have to be so overprotective. Did my mom’s spirit possess you or something?” She half jokes trying to get him to calm down.
“Don’t be a smartass,” he says dismissively.
“Well?” She shrugs her shoulders. “You’re so concerned about me, but I’m fine, Negan.”
“You just don’t fucking understand.”
“Understand what?” she spits out, suddenly angry at his suggestion that she’s ignorant of the situation.
“Men! Okay? You don’t understand men!” He throws his arms out wide. “Men see a sweet fuckin’ girl like you and all they can think about is how they can fuckin’ use you up. You’re too naive to see that. If you give any man an excuse to put his fucking hands on you, he’ll take what he fucking wants from you, Chuck.”
“Says the man I’ve been sharing a bed with for weeks. The man that just undressed and redressed me without incident,” she bites back.
He glares at her for a few moments before responding. “That’s different. I would never-“
“Of course, it’s different. Because you’re the only man that wouldn’t hurt me, right? Because that makes so much sense,” she says sarcastically. “Every other man can’t be trusted because I’m just super rape-able, right?! I bring it onto myself! I’m just soooo helpless and weak and stupid that men can’t control themselves!”
“That’s not what I fuckin’ meant. Don’t be so goddamn dramatic,” he dismisses.
“I’m being dramatic? No, you’re right. You just go on and screw over the entire Sanctuary by killing the only doctor because he did his job and tended to his patient.” She throws her arms up as much as she can and turns away from Negan as tears begin to flow down her cheeks.
“Goddamnit,” he mutters under his breath. “You just don’t understand-“
“No.” She turns back to face him. “I understand. I understand that you have no faith in me. How many times have I told you that I trust you? But you can’t even trust me with myself. You make me eat with you because I can’t do that right. You make me live up here because I got myself hurt. And you think I’m too stupid to recognize when someone is trying to take advantage of me,” she chokes out as her tears continue to flow.
“I didn’t fucking say that.” He moves forward and cradles her cheeks in his hands. “That’s not what I meant. I don’t think you’re fucking stupid.” He pulls her into a tight hug.
“I don’t want to fight with you, Negan.”
“I know. I don’t want to fucking fight, either, baby girl,” he says into the top of her head as he rubs her back.
“I want you to trust me.”
“I do fucking trust you. It’s just... All I want is for you to be fucking safe. If anything happened to you, I’d lose my shit.”
Chuck pulls back to look at Negan. “I don’t like seeing you upset. And I don’t like being made to feel like some helpless child.”
“I don’t think you’re helpless, okay? And I do have fucking faith in you. A shit ton of it, in fact. I’m just a fucking possessive control freak. That’s not fuckin’ news to you. Just indulge me. Let me take care of you in my own damn way.” He sweeps the remnants of her tears from her cheeks.
“Okay. But, I’ll still tell you when I don’t agree with what you’re doing.”
“Of course, baby girl.” He scoops her up in another hug and kisses her head. “I need to get fuckin’ going. Are you okay?” He pulls back to look at her.
“Yeah. I’m okay.”
He moves away from her and heads toward the door. “I’ll probably be fuckin’ in and out throughout the day. Make sure you eat fuckin’ lunch if I’m not here.”
“Yes, mother,” she jokes.
“That’s real fuckin’ cute, Chuck,” he throws out as he leaves.
The pair falls into rhythm with each other for about two weeks. Many days, Negan is out of the room for parts of the day making his rounds or going on runs, which Chuck doesn’t mind. She likes having a bit of alone time, even if she gets bored occasionally. She fills her days with music, both from the record player and her guitar, or she reads from Negan's extensive collection of books. Sometimes she visits with the wives and plays the piano for them, play cards or board games with them, or just hangs out with them.
Chuck likes the women, but being with them all together for an extended amount of time is too emotionally taxing on her. They shower her with attention and want to know everything about her. She tells them of her past, but manages not to divulge that she and Negan knew each other before all this. They hang on her every word as if she were telling the most interesting story ever. Chuck chalks all these things up to their being lonely. They really only ever interact with her and Negan. And they told her that all they get from Negan is sex. He doesn’t exactly have deep conversations with them all the time. Chuck is the only one that actually entertains them and listens to them.
After having their first real fight, Negan and Chuck seem to get closer. The pair live together easily with no real problems arising. It doesn’t take too long before Chuck is just as comfortable being around Negan as she is by herself. Even being undressed around Negan doesn’t phase Chuck after a while, especially since he has to help clean her. But she is never completely naked around him, always making sure to be covered up with at least a towel.
It’s been over two weeks since Chuck was stabbed and she is going a bit stir crazy. She has already removed her stitches on her own, but she’s still technically under orders to rest. She ventures to the infirmary in the hopes that Carson would tell her that she’s healed enough to resume her normal life. He examines her and concurs that there is no reason that she can’t go back to work. She tells Negan the good news over dinner.
“I guess you can go back to work, then,” Negan says, not exactly enthused, to Chuck as they eat.
She’s excited at the prospect of working again. She knows she doesn’t have to worry about points, she has so many saved up. And Negan pretty much gives her anything she could possibly want, anyway, even though she never asks him for anything. She still wants to be able to provide for the community, though. She doesn’t want to feel like a freeloader.
“Good,” Chuck says genuinely.
“I think we’re going to do it fucking differently this time. You’ll only spend a few days a week in the infirmary. You'll have a radio on you at all fucking times, though, in case the doc needs your help with an emergency or some shit. The other days will be spent with me, teaching you how to fight.”
“Really? You want me to be a savior or something?” she jokes.
“Fuck no! I mean like self defense shit,” Negan says with a laugh.
“Oh. So I don't get myself in trouble again,” Chuck responds, her smile fading.
“Hey. No. That's not what I fuckin’ meant, Chuck. I just want you to know how to handle yourself if something should fucking happen.”
The next day, Negan and Chuck change into workout clothes and he leads her to his personal gym a few doors down from his apartment.
“Oh my god! This place is so nice. What else are you hiding up here?” Chuck beams as she looks around. The room has a large sparring area in the middle, a weightlifting area to the left, and ellipticals and the like to the right.
“You've never wandered around up here?” Negan asks with a quirked eyebrow.
“No. You never gave me permission to.”
A low laugh rumbles from his throat. “Shit. You're such a fucking good girl. I love it.” He smirks at her.
She raises her eyebrow at him. “Okay...? So what are we doing?”
Negan walks several paces in front of Chuck and says, “Come at me.”
“What?”
“Come at me. I'm a big scary dude and I'm gonna fuck you up. What are you gonna do about it?”
“Run away.”
“I'll catch you.”
“Hide.”
“Chuck. Come on.” He’s getting annoyed that she’s avoiding combat.
“Just tell me what to do.”
“What's your instinct?” He asks. “Besides run and hide.” He tacks on the end.
“I don't know… Kick you in the balls?”
“Try it.” He motions for her to come at him.
“I don't want to hurt you.”
“You won't.”
“It won't hurt you if I kick you in the balls?” she chuckles out.
“Just come on. Give it a fuckin’ try.”
“I don't know. I don't want-“ She stops talking when she realizes that Negan is coming at her. Fast. She instantly freezes as he grabs her, takes her to the ground, and straddles her, pinning her hips beneath him. “Negan!” she squeaks out.
“Standing there and doing nothing wasn't a very good fucking strategy, was it?” he says smugly. “What are you going to do now, Chuck?”
“Just tell me what to do!”
“No. I'm fucking showing you. Do something.”
“Uh. I'll hit you.”
“Do it!”
She’s getting angry enough with Negan that all concern for his safety leaves her thoughts. She brings her fist up to try to hit him as hard as she can, but he quickly grabs her wrist, and then the other one, and pins them both with his left hand above her head. She struggles, trying to get her hands free.
“You're too strong. I can't do anything!”
“You can. You just need to find the weaknesses. Fight smarter. What are you gonna do now?”
She decides to forego telling him her next move and springs into action. She tries to buck her hips up into him to try to get him off her, but he uses his right hand and his weight to push her pelvis back down. Everything she tries, he counters easily. Eventually, she’s out of energy from struggling around and can barely move. He lets go of her hands, but doesn’t move from on top of her.
“Did you fucking learn something with all that?”
“I’m dead if I get into a fight?” she huffs out, her heart racing.
Negan takes her hand and puts her fingers on the pulse point of his neck. “Feel that?”
“It’s slow.”
“That's right. I barely even fuckin’ did anything. I just let you wear yourself out. I fought smart. And this is not a good position for you to be in, by the fucking way.” He motions to her body underneath his. “I could do whatever the fuck I want with you and you'd be powerless to stop me. You need to,” he taps her forehead as he says the last two words, “fight. smarter. You're small and you're never gonna fuckin’ overpower anyone with strength alone out there. The only people that are left are fuckin’ bigass brutes that will fuck a girl like you up before you even knew what hit you.”
“I get it,” she groans, annoyance in her tone. “Will you get off me now?”
He stands up and holds his hand out to help her stand up as well. “I'm gonna go hard on you with this, sweetheart. This is shit you need to fuckin’ know. I should've done this as soon as you fucking got here.”
“Are we done for today?” Chuck whines, eager to end this lesson.
Negan laughs. “Not even fuckin’ close.” He gets back into position in front of her. “Come at me.”
“Seriously?” she complains. “I have no idea what you want me to do.” She looks at him as he stares back at her, unmoved by her whinging. “You're really not going to tell me what to do?”
Negan's only answer is to lunge forward, grabbing both of her biceps and pulling her to him. She instinctively tries to knee him in the groin, but he pivots his hips just in time, deflecting the blow. He brings his hand down to grasp her thigh and pulls up, causing her to be off balance. Negan, once again, takes her to the ground, this time seated between her legs. She tries to push away from him, but he grabs her wrists, like before, and pins them. Then, he pushes his hips into hers, limiting how much she can move her lower body.
“This is an even worse fucking position for you to be in, Chuck,” he says as he looks down at her body beneath him and places his free hand flat on her stomach, keeping her down.
“I realize that,” she says, thinking of her next move. She knows that she can’t get out of his grasp and she can’t push him off of her either.
“What are you gonna do?” Negan prods.
“I'm thinking.”
“Well, while you're thinking, I could've fucking killed you three different ways.”
She brings her legs up and around his waist and squeezes her thighs as hard as she can, causing him to let out a grunt and loosen his grip on her hands. She pushes up on his shoulders and turns her entire body sharply, taking Negan with her. She follows the momentum and sits up on top of him, straddling his waist. She takes advantage of his sudden disorientation and grabs his hands, pinning them on either side his head.
“Ha! I did it,” she boasts triumphantly.
He instantly pulls his hands from her weak grasp and brings them around her throat, still making sure not to hurt her. She squeaks in surprise at the sudden contact, and paws at his hands until he lets go a few seconds later.
“You can't fuckin’ hesitate to take an attacker out. He'll always get the upper hand on you. You did a good fuckin’ job getting me off you, but you have to take me out instantly. How would you do it?”
“Do I have a weapon?”
“Does it look like you have a fuckin’ weapon?”
She lets out a huff and brings her hands to his neck, mirroring what he had just done to her.
“Nope. That's not gonna work for you, sweetheart. It takes too fucking long and you're not strong enough to choke me out and fuckin’ fight me off at the same time.”
“You don't know I'm not strong enough,” she says defiantly.
He gives her a doubtful face and pulls her hands off of his neck easily.
“Well, I wasn’t actually trying to strangle you.”
“Come on, Chuck,” he grouses.
“Fine.” She brings her fist back and gently pushes it to his cheek, signifying a punch to Negan’s face.
“Wrong again, sweetheart. That'll just fuckin’ piss me off.”
“Well. What am I supposed to do?” She’s getting frustrated with Negan and his teaching techniques.
“What did I fuckin’ tell you to do?”
“Fight smarter.” That’s what he said. I have to use his weaknesses against him. But what weakness does he have? He's bigger and stronger! I need to incapacitate him swiftly. But how? What part of him isn’t strong?
Oh wait. I think I know.
She makes a fist and pretends to punch him in the windpipe.
“Yup. That'll probably fuckin’ do it. No matter how big the fuckin’ dude is, you punch him in the throat, he'll go down,” he says, genuinely impressed. “Use that shit. Bodies have weaknesses. The throat, vegus nerve, femoral artery... You don’t need to be fuckin’ bigger or stronger than the other guy as long as you know where to apply the right pressure.” He smiles up at her for a moment. “Now get off me.”
In the next week, Chuck moves back into her own room, but spends a lot of her time with Negan. He continues to instruct her on proper self defense techniques when she doesn’t have a shift in the infirmary and he has free time. They usually end their sessions at dinner time.
Today is Chuck's turn to cook, even though Negan always does most of the work. He is a much better cook than she is. They finish up with their meal and take their seats at the table.
“So what's up with your face?” Chuck jokes. She noticed that Negan is letting his beard grow out longer than usual.
“The fuck do you mean, Chuck?” He growls out with a mouthful of food.
“You're letting your beard get long.”
“You don't like it?”
She shrugs. “It’s not bad. But if you let it get any longer, it’ll cross the threshold into mountainman territory.” Chuck giggles and the pair continue to eat. “I'm kinda sore from our session today. You rode me kinda hard.”
“You wanna rephrase that sentence, sweetheart?” He gives her a smirk.
It takes her a second, but she finally gets what he’s talking about. “Shut up! You know what I meant. My training. My muscles are sore from it.”
“You want me to give you a fucking massage?” He winks at her.
“Why would I get a massage from you when I could get one from Frankie? She is the professional, after all.” She smirks back at him, not wanting to play into what he’s saying.
“Fuck. You’re doing this shit on purpose, aren’t you? Cuz the image of Frankie fuckin’ rubbing you down is doing all sorts of shit to my dick, sweetheart.”
“Oh, I’m sure it is,” Chuck says sarcastically.
The pair finish out their nightly rituals and climb into bed.
“I think you should talk to Amber. She seems to be having a hard time lately,” Chuck offers as Negan gets more comfortable behind her.
“Fuck.” He groans. “It's always fuckin’ something with her. Aren’t you her friend? Can't you deal with it?”
“I'm not married to her.”
“Jesus Christ. Can we just get to sleep?” Negan groans as he cuddles more closely into Chuck's back, like he always does. Chuck suddenly lurches forward and laughs uncontrollably. “What the fuck?!”
“Your long beard hairs are tickling me!”
“Why the fuck are you so ticklish?” Negan laughs out.
“I don't know! But my neck is the most ticklish part.”
Negan chuckles lowly. “I hope you realize that telling me that was a fucking mistake.”
“No!” Chuck screams while laughing as she tries to move away from Negan. He brings his arm around her and grabs her throat, pulling her body back and into him. She continues to laugh and squirm around as Negan juts his jaw out and shakes his head back and forth, tickling the sensitive skin on the back of her neck with his beard hairs.
“Stop! Negan!” Chuck manages to cry out between laughs.
Negan pushes her down flat on her back and moves on top of her. He starts to rub his face into the side of her neck, causing her to shriek and erupt in a fit of giggles. Spurred on by her reactions, Negan pushes himself harder into her neck.
“Ouch! Negan! Now your beard is just scratching me!” Chuck exclaims, still giggling slightly.
“Sorry, baby,” Negan whispers as he pulls back slightly and places a light kiss on her neck causing Chuck’s giggles to pick back up. He kisses her lightly again, and again until he presses his open mouth to her neck and swirls his tongue over her skin.
At first, Chuck is only aware of the tickling sensations on her neck, not knowing exactly what Negan is doing to cause them. Her giggles quickly turn into moans as he continues to passionately kiss her up her neck to her jaw. The wetness between her legs begins to build as he expertly moves his lips over her delicate skin. Her mind finally catches up to her body as she becomes fully aware of what is happening. She brings her arms around him and buries her hand in his hair as he moves his face directly in front of hers.
“Are you okay with this?” he whispers between heavy breaths.
Her own breathy voice replies, “Yes, Negan.”
#negan#negan fanfiction#negans thirst squad#negan x oc#negan / oc#negan x ofc#negan / ofc#negan x original female character#negan / original female character#jdm#jeffrey dean morgan#the walking dead fanfiction#the walking dead au#the walking dead#this is how i disappear#tihid#writehavoc writes#writehavoc this is how i disappear
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Soldier Enhancement Program: Subjects 76 and 24 [Chapter 1/2]
Jack joins when he's young, straight out of basic training. He knows why they're offering him the chance. He's a mediocre soldier at best and they're a dime a dozen, traul any college campus and they can get someone to replace him. He won't be missed. When they ask him, he signs the paperwork before they even start talking.
He's pretty sure they're happy when he leaves. He knows they can't stand his dead eyes.
-
He fills out all the paperwork they ask him to, once he gets there. Some of then are standard: where was he born, what was his home life like, who is his next of kin. He doesn't expect the ones he gets as they progress: would he feel more comfortable rooming with men, women, or neither? Did he feel safe in his last post? What are the qualities he looks for in a friend?
He gets two pages into a packet that seems to be about current and former relationship history before he finally asks what's going on. Last he checked he joined a secret military experiment, not a psychological one.
They tell him that they need to cover all factors for their project, to determine any concerns. He takes them at face value. He doesn't really care, either way. He signs all the paperwork they give him, and he walks out the door.
-
Those motherfuckers.
He's been in classes for days, and his bunkmate obviously hates him. Why the hell did they put the two of them together?
He knows why on his end, at least. Because Gabriel Reyes is beautiful, one of the most handsome men he's ever had the privilege to meet. He's everything Jack's ever dreamed of.
He just wishes the guy would stop looking at him with so much anger and disgust.
He shakes his head, grabbing a book before heading out of his room. If Gabriel wants to hate him, fine. He'll just avoid him. Might as well keep a senior member of the SEP happy for the day.
He leaves the room before Gabriel wakes, and only returns after he's fallen asleep. He eats when Gabriel isn't there, avoids the hallways the man seems to prefer.
He doesn't expect to last long in the program anyway.
-
He's going to die here.
He knew the program was dangerous, but he never knew how much. But when he was getting his first set of shots, he saw a glimpse of his paperwork. #76, it had said.
But there couldn't be more than 25 soldiers on base. Had that many died? No wonder they were getting people like him. They were desperate.
He doesn't cry out in pain, or writhe in the hospital bed like he hears the others do. He stays still, staring up at the ceiling, letting the pain run through him.
For a moment, he thinks he feels something. But it's been too long for him to recognise the emotion, and it flees before he can try.
-
Gabriel's been nicer. Sort of.
He's been helping Jack recover, at the very least. Making sure he eats. Helping him move around the room.
But the dead look in his eyes is one Jack is intimately familiar with. How many roommates has he had to watch die? To still give him new ones...isn't that cruel?
As soon as Jack is situated and recovering, Gabriel leaves. He understands. They aren't friends. Gabriel's just doing what's required.
Jack gives him his space, again.
-
He writes down everything he feels after the injections. Maybe that will help them not kill any more soldiers.
The eldest group of soldiers, Gabriel among their paltry sum, don't talk to the younger. So the ones that came after them do. And the picture that they paint is a nightmare.
By the time you feel sick, they say, you're already dying. There's nothing the doctors can do, they add, so don't bother going to the medics for help. It's just a waste of supplies.
He doesn't write that part down. He sticks to clinical information only. He figures that's for the best.
-
They have three weeks between sets of shots. They're given two at a time.
After the first two, there were three deaths. After the third and fourth, two more were lost.
Only the new recruits are getting the shots. There's something wrong with the fifth and sixth, rumor says, and they don't want to move further in the shots until the figure out the cause.
Ah, he thinks, now it makes sense. They're testing on more, faster, to try to locate the cause of death so they can preserve their actually skilled soldiers. Of course.
A week after the fourth shot, he feels ill. The pain hasn't receded as much as he expected, and his body feels...wrong.
He writes all of that down, a strange calm flowing over him. Maybe, if he's lucky, what they find from him can save people's lives. Can save Gabriel's life.
That would be worth it, to him.
-
It's three days to the fifth and sixth shots when they finally have a fight. Gabriel won't stop pushing, trying to get Jack to tell him anything about himself.
Jack finally snaps. "Back off!"
"What's your problem?"
"Mine? You're the one who's been being a prick!"
Gabtiel growls. "You're avoiding me!"
"Yeah, because you seem miserable enough without having to deal with the guy you obviously hate!"
"What the fuck are you-"
"Besides, the next set is the one that kills everyone, right? A 99 percent kill rate, isn't it? So what the fuck are you trying to get close to me for?" He feels his blood boiling under his skin, and it doesn't help the ill feeling he's had for weeks now. "Why bother now if I'm just gonna die anyway?"
He snarls. "How can you say that so fucking matter of fact? How can you be resigned to it??"
"Because I didn't expect to survive, Reyes!" He shouts, puncuating his words with a fist against the wall. "I never did! So quit trying to get close, and save yourself the trouble of having to remember a useless guinea pig!"
Gabriel stares at him, a mix of anger and horror on his face.
Jack roughly sits down on his bed, slumping over on his side and looking away. "...Just...just go."
There's quiet for a long while, before heavy footsteps stomp out of the room. The door slams behind them.
He doesn't see Gabriel again until after the shots. He wakes up in pain, crying out as he tries to figure out which way is up. He feels gentle hands on his arms, and hears the soft murmur of Spanish.
He drifts back to sleep.
-
Today is the day.
He can tell. The pain hasn't gotten better, it's just gotten worse. He can barely eat. Five others have already died from this set alone.
Gabriel had looked at him from the door earlier, concern in his eyes. Jack had told him to go eat with his friends. He'd even smiled and told him he was fine, slumping once the man had left.
He feels that's the kindest thing he could have done. He doesn't need to watch Jack die. He's suffered enough.
He writes until it hurts too much to do so, panic finally rising. He's going to die. He's going to die, in pain and alone, and there's nothing that he can do.
He throws himself off the bed, barely containing a scream as he hits the ground. He crawls desperately to the bathroom. He's too hot, and as soon as he collapses on the tile floor he cries out in relief. But the feeling quickly fades, the tile warming under his skin.
He doesn't know how long he lies there, body losing feeling. He can't move. He can't talk. He can barely even breathe. He slowly blinks away tears, hoping that he'll at least pass out before his body suffocates him.
The door to their shared space slams open. "Jack!"
Shit. Why is he back? If he's so concerned...someone else must have died. Goddamnit.
He hears footsteps rush into their shared bedroom, before a keening noise echoes from it. "Jack!!"
He must have found the book, Jack decides. At least that will help...
"Jack, please- fuck- please, where are you?"
He wishes he could respond. He's afraid.
The footsteps leading into the room startle him, but he can't flinch.
"Jack!" Gabriel collapses next to him. "Please, please please-" He lets out a breath when he feels Jack's pulse. "Dios mio, Jack, can you hear me?"
He abrubtly realizes that Gabriel's never called him 'Jack' before.
"Jack- okay, fuck, he mentioned this- blink twice if you can hear me."
A pause.
"Thank fuck- Can you move? Blink three times for no."
A pause.
"Okay, I'm going to pick you up- I know, it's going to hurt, but you're dying Jack. I have to take you to the doctor for them to help you." He quickly, but as gently as possible, picks him up. "I know- hang on, okay? I need you to hang on."
A pause.
"...Jack?"
-
Jack wakes up in the med bay, screaming.
Hands hold him down, and he hears a soft voice speaking to him. He quiets, slowly opening his eyes.
Gabriel looks back at him, breathing rough. "Jack. You back?"
"Gabriel." His voice cracks, and he flinches. "Where..."
"Medbay. Fuck, Jack...you almost didn't make it."
He feels like he's made of mud. "...What?"
"Do you remember where I found you?"
"...Bathroom."
"Right. You were dying. I got you here just in time." He moves his hands down to hold Jack's. "Why didn't you tell me? I read your book, Jack. Why did you hide it?"
"The...recruits after you. They said...once you're sick, it's already...too late." He wheezes. "Said seeing the medics...was a waste of supplies."
"That's what we heard. Fuck...so many people died because they didn't know to get help..." He gently cups Jack's face. "...You're one of three that made it, this round."
His eyes widen. "Everyone else...is dead...?"
"Who you came in with? ...Yeah."
He's quiet, staring off.
"...Get some more rest, okay?"
"You'll come back...?"
"Of course, Jackie. I'll come back."
-
Three days later, Jack's shaking again.
Gabriel climbs into his cot, pulling him into his arms. "Hey, it's okay. They're getting you through it. I know you're cold, but I've got you. Your nerves are rewiring themselves. I went through this too. The fact that you're feeling this is a good sign. I know that's hard to believe, but..."
Jack tries to rest against him. "...did I ever tell you about my family?" His voice is strained.
"...No, Jack." He runs his hands through Jack's hair. "You haven't. What about your family?"
"Mom joined the service at the beginning of the Crisis."
"So, you joined to work alongside her?"
He shakes his head. "She was killed."
"Oh, Jack..."
"Wanted to make up for what was lost. Thought maybe...I could do what she had wanted to."
"What about your father?"
"Helped shelter two scared omnic runaways. Neighbors called him a traitor and set the barn on fire. None of them survived."
"Jack..."
"I...I'm scared, Reyes." His trembling picks up. "...Will I see them again?"
"Jack-" Gabriel holds him close. "You will, I promise you will. But not now. Not yet. You- you can't."
"Reyes..."
"You can't!" His voice cracks, as he presses his face to Jack's hair. "You can't..."
"You don't even know me..." A rough blow, but Jack doesn't mean it to be.
"You wouldn't let me." His voice is quiet.
"I...thought it would be better. For you."
"...What if I wanted to?"
"Huh...?" He looks up, fever clouding his eyes.
"What if I want to get to know you?"
"Reyes...I...I can't..."
"Please try. Please." He takes a shaky breath. "Please..."
Jack stares for a minute longer, before he slowly nods. "...Okay. I...I'll try..."
"Thank you, Jack." Gabriel hugs him close. "Thank you..."
-
Jack yawns, stretching his arms before curling them to his chest again.
The man behind him mumbles softly, draping an arm back over him, hand resting against I'm his own.
He smiles. "Mornin', Gabe."
Gabriel mumbles in response, pulling him close.
It's been a month and a half since Jack almost died. It had been touch and go, and he'd had to be resuscitated several times, but he was here. Alive.
They've talked. About favourite colors (how Jack prefers blue, like the ocean, while Gabriel likes orange because of pumpkins), where they grew up (an even split of Bloomington and South Bend for Jack, Sacramento before his family moved to LA for Gabriel), personal guilty pleasures (Jack's love for fairy tales, and Gabriel's love of theatre)...
They feel safe together. They hear people's whispers, of course. The ones saying that they're moving too fast.
Jack shivers. He almost wasn't fast enough. Sure, they've kissed a lot earlier than others might. And one could argue that just over a month of really getting to know someone isn't long enough to form an intimate connection. But Jack's never felt so safe, so secure, in his life.
Gabriel kisses the back of Jack's neck. "You're thinking too loud."
"Sorry." He rolls over, looking up at him with a small smile.
"Your smile's pretty." He slurs, still on the edge of sleep. "You know where it'd look prettier?"
"Gabe..."
"On mine." He grins.
He chuckles. "You're such a sap."
"You love it." He leans forward, resting his forehead against Jack's.
"I do. And I love you."
"Love you too, Jackie."
As Gabriel finally finishes leaning forward and kisses him, Jack's never felt more alive.
#not rvb#*confused fanfiction noises*#The Other Side Looks The Goddamn Same#reaper76#overwatch fanfiction#overwatch fanfic
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i know i’m not wrong
“So,” Jeff said, leaning on Kent’s bathroom doorframe, trying to make his posture as nonthreatening as possible. They’d watched an episode of Man in the High Castle with Eric earlier, and it was becoming apparent to Jeff that Eric and Jack Zimmermann were definitely more than friends. Way more.
Considering how very recently Jeff had opened his door to find Kent on his doorstep and Jack Zimmermann partially responsible… he had questions.
“Yeah?” Kent spat toothpaste into the sink. “What?” He tossed a capful of purple mouthwash into his mouth, swishing it with his usual enthusiasm.
“Just, uh.” Jeff rubbed the back of his neck. Just do it. “I --” he took a breath. “I know it’s not my place, okay, and you can, um. You can feel free to tell me to fuck off, okay?”
Kent slanted his gaze toward Jeff for a moment before spitting into the sink again. “O… kay,” he said.
“What happened?” Jeff asked. God, please don’t let me regret this. “Between you and Jack?”
“I, um.” Kent busied himself with washing his hands. “Can we -- can we not do this in my bathroom?”
Pushing away from the door frame, Jeff nodded. “Yeah. Sorry. I’ll, uh -- living room?”
Kent pushed past him, heading downstairs. He got a glass of water before curling up in the corner of his sofa. Dragging a blanket onto his lap, he took a long drink from his glass. Purrs clawed his way up into Kent’s lap, making a little nest in the blanket.
Jeff sat on the other end of the sofa. Fuck, he felt like he was going to throw up. Chewing his lower lip, he looked at Kent’s face for a moment. When Kent turned to look at him, Jeff rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh,” he said. “I was just wondering, after seeing him the other day --”
“Just ask me what you really want to know, okay?” Kent set his water glass down with a bit more force than seemed necessary.
“Um, okay.” Jeff rubbed one of his thighs, thinking. “So were you guys, like.” Friends? Boyfriends? Lovers? Fuckbuddies? Surely not fuckbuddies. “I mean -- what were you?”
Kent leaned his head in his hand. "What are you talking about?"
"C'mon, man, I'm not stupid. There were a million rumors and you know it."
Kent leaned back a little. “Oh,” he said.
Aw, fuck. “Look, if you don’t wanna talk about this, I totally get it,” Jeff said, words coming out in a rush. It really wasn’t his business, anyway. He shouldn’t have asked. “I’m sorry, I should --”
Kent interrupted him. “It’s fine,” he said. “Everyone else is thinking it, right? Might as well ask me.” He gnawed at his thumbnail for a minute. “You’re asking if he was my boyfriend,” Kent said, finally. “Aren’t you?”
Jeff’s neck felt hot. “Yeah, I guess,” he said.
“I thought he was,” Kent said.
What did that even mean? “Oh,” said Jeff. "Did you ever... discuss it with him?"
“Didn’t really cross my mind.” Looking down at Purrs, so small in his lap, Kent smiled softly. He rubbed his index finger over one of Purrs’s giant ears.
Jeff tried to wrap his mind around what Kent was saying. He thought they were boyfriends, but he never thought to ask. That meant they weren’t, didn’t it? Or -- that Kent thought they were and Jack thought they weren’t? He frowned. Kent still received an invitation to Bob’s ceremony, the night he accidentally came out on national television. He’d been close to them. Was it because -- “Did his parents know?” he asked.
Kent’s shoulders tensed. “Y-yeah,” he said, after an intensely awkward pause. “They knew.”
It was not, in Jeff’s opinion, the going thing to discuss random fuckbuddies with one’s parents. If the Zimmermanns knew about Jack and Kent, that meant they were more than just friends with benefits. Didn’t it? “So you…”
“I slept with him, okay?” Kent snapped, cutting him off. “A lot. All right? And I -- I thought that that meant he loved me because I thought that’s what sex meant because I was a stupid fucking seventeen year old, okay?” He looked away from Jeff, biting down on a fingernail.
Ah.
“Did he, um.” Goddamnit. Jeff rubbed the back of his neck. “Did he ever, um. Did he ever... force himself on you?”
“F--” Kent jerked back around to stare at Jeff. “Force himself on me? No! What the hell?”
Okay, in Jeff’s defense? Kent hadn’t acted happy to see or hear about Zimmermann at basically any time that Jeff could recall, ever. “Well -- look, you hate it when people mention him and you show up on my doorstep like that a few months ago and the only variable was Zimmermann, okay, and I --”
“I did everything under my own free will, all right?” Kent snapped. “He never touched me. Like that, I mean.”
“I’m sorry, man,” said Jeff. Shit. “I --”
“Look, I -- I made my own choices. With Jack. Okay? He didn’t make me do anything. It was my -- it was me.” Kent took a breath. “I was a stupid kid.”
None of that really explained things though, not the way Jeff wanted. The way Kent looked at Jack in that hospital room, the fact that he never mentioned him, his intense insistence that everything was his fault -- those weren’t just leftover feelings from a harmless teenage fling. Jeff had had a million harmless teenage flings. He knew what those looked like, and that wasn’t it. It didn’t add up.
“Did he hurt you?” he asked, finally.
“What?” Kent looked up just as Purrs bit him in the thumb. “Like -- what d’you mean?” He swatted lightly at Purrs, waving him off.
“When you were in juniors,” Jeff said. “Did he hurt you?”
“No,” Kent said, picking at the blanket. He was looking anywhere except in Jeff’s direction.
Jeff tilted his head. “Parse. What do you think I’m asking you, right now?”
Kent swallowed, not looking up from his hands. “It sounds like you’re asking me if Jack hit me, or something,” he said, after a moment. “The answer is no. No. He wouldn’t -- he would never do that.”
“Okay,” said Jeff. That was good. “But emotionally, did he hurt you?”
“That’s --” Purrs crept into Kent’s lap again. “I’m not a child, Jeffrey. He didn’t have to walk on eggshells because he was constantly worried about hurting my feelings or… whatever.”
Kent only really called him Jeffrey when he was mad. "I didn't say that,” Jeff said. “I'm asking if he ever made you feel like shit when you didn't deserve it.”
Kent sat quietly for a minute, rubbing trembling fingers over Purrs’s fur. “No,” he said. “Not when I didn’t deserve it.”
Okay. This wasn’t working. He was going to have to try something else. Maybe -- “What was Jack like?” Jeff asked.
“Oh, um.” Kent took a breath, leaned back against the sofa. “He was a perfectionist,” he said. “So good at hockey, really passionate. And he was, y’know. Moody. Seventeen. But he helped me a lot, you know, figure out things I needed to work on, stuff like that. Hockey.” He paused, running his tongue over his lower lip. “He didn’t really like to talk about his feelings but he was so sweet, sometimes. He would --” he broke off for a moment. “He listened to me, you know, when Mom met Dan. He made me feel better.”
“Sure,” said Jeff. “Then why aren’t you guys friends any more?”
“I --” Kent stared for a moment before shutting his mouth with an audible click of teeth. He swallowed. “I wasn’t good to him, Jeff,” he said. “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to do anything.”
Jeff frowned. “What do you mean?”
Kent shrugged. He scratched under Purrs’s chin, focusing on the cat instead of Jeff’s question.
All right. Kent said Jack was a perfectionist, that he helped him figure out things he needed to work on. He was moody. He didn’t like talking about his emotions. Thinking, Jeff chewed his lower lip. What did he need to ask?
“Did he make you feel like it was your fault when you guys lost a game?” Jeff asked. Kent was always saying that, and he took losses so personally. That had to come from somewhere, right? Kent said Jack never made him feel like shit when he didn’t deserve it, which wasn’t the same thing as saying no.
“It was my fault,” Kent said, looking up. “We’ve talked about this. I was a shitty player, I had to get better.”
Bingo. “But did Jack say that to you?”
“Well -- yeah,” Kent said, unwinding under the blanket just a little. “I mean, he was just being honest with me. And he’d tell me when I did things right, too, it wasn’t just… it wasn’t just criticism.”
Sure, okay. Jeff rolled his shoulders back, fighting the building knot between them. “What else was your fault?”
One of Kent’s shoulders lifted in the barest of shrugs. “I just made things harder for him. That’s the truth, okay? I made him so anxious and I disagreed with his dad and I should’ve --” he shook his head. “I just, you know. We drank too much and did stupid stuff and I didn’t, um. I didn’t respect boundaries and I pushed him too hard. He didn’t need that, not from me, and I -- I thought I was helping,” Kent said. “I mean, I was trying to help. But he didn’t need me fucking micromanaging his life and if I hadn’t been so fucking…” he shook his head again, clearly searching for words. “He wouldn’t’ve --”
He didn’t have to finish that train of thought for Jeff to know what it meant. Kent meant that Jack wouldn’t have overdosed if it weren’t for him. He meant that he felt responsible for what sounded, in Jeff’s opinion, like a suicide attempt.
“Did you love him?” Jeff asked.
“Yes,” Kent said, as if he were saying the sky was blue. It was fact to him, simple. “And he hates me for it.”
Jeff’s stomach twisted. God, to feel like you killed the person you loved -- what must that be like? Had Kent ever talked to anyone about it? Did he talk to Brian?
Jeff thought about the bathroom door, about how Kent never wanted it closed. He had so many nightmares, but never wanted to discuss the substance of his dreams. “Is this what you dream about?” Jeff asked, and his voice was so soft that he barely heard it himself. “Jack?”
Kent nodded without looking Jeff in the face. “He was in the hotel bathroom,” he said. “I just wanted him to help me pick a tie.”
He wanted him to -- fuck. Jeff took a breath. “You -- did you find him?” he asked.
Kent nodded again.
“Shit, Parse. Why didn’t you ever say anything?” Jeff asked, finally. Kent came to them almost immediately after the draft. Jack’s overdose was -- fuck, how long had it even been? Hardly any time at all had passed. And Kent never said anything.
Nothing.
“Because it doesn’t matter,” Kent said, voice soft. “Talking about it doesn’t change any of it.”
“Jack’s overdose wasn’t your --”
“Wasn’t my fault, yeah,” Kent said, uninterested in listening to whatever else Jeff had to say, “that’s what everyone says.”
Right. Jeff swallowed. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“Me too,” said Kent.
Looking down at his hands, Jeff cleared his throat. “And does Eric know?”
“Does Eric know what?” Kent shifted on the sofa and Purrs scooted under the blanket, exploring.
“Just -- all of it,” Jeff said, “I guess.”
“Mostly,” Kent said. “Yeah.”
“Do you miss him?” Jeff asked.
Kent looked back up at him. “Not like I used to,” he said. “Depends on the day.”
Jeff paused. “Do I, um.” He swallowed. “Do I remind you of him at all?” Is that why you can’t ever love me?
Kent tilted his head, looking at Jeff’s face for a long moment. “No,” he said. “Or --” he frowned. “If you do, it’s --” Stopping, Kent ran his hands through his hair, thinking.
Jeff waited.
“You’re nothing like him,” Kent said, finally. “Except your cellies.”
( need some context? head to AO3! )
#kent parson#jeff swoops troy#omgcp fic#omgcp#hummingbird heartbeat verse#you're a god & i am not#troyson#background bittyparse#my writing#background pimms#check please#check please fic#parse#swoops#parswoops#gaslighting#discussions of emotional/sexual/physical abuse#internalized victim blaming#implied emotional abuse#suicide mention#unhealthy relationships#trauma/PTSD
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The End (Part 2)
Summary: Y/N gets transported into the future after a fight with Dean. There she meets some familiar faces.
Pairing: Dean x Reader, Endverse!Dean x Reader, The Trickster, End!verseCas
Word count/fic total: ~10K
Prompt: #8 “Believe me, I wish it was different.”
Warnings: hella angst, fighting, fluff, end of the world, swearing
A/N: This was written for @demondeanismybaby‘s 500 Follower Celebration Which on are you? Challenge. I am sorry for the long delay but the fic is finally being posted. There are many parts still to come! This is my first fic ever, so be kind and constructive criticism welcome.
Part 1
Y/N walked until she couldn’t walk anymore. She came to rest at a gas station a ways down the road. Somewhere along the way, she had changed into some warmer clothes and had put on her boots.
Dean hated her. He had never loved her. Everything was a lie. All the family that she had grown to know gone, ripped away.
The gas station wasn’t open. All of the lights were off and the place was quiet. Banging her hand on the door, she hung her head against the cool glass, hoping that it would wake her up from this nightmare. But that didn’t happen. Turning around, she slid down the door and just sat.
She needed to come up with a plan.
Call Sammy. That would work. Y/N searched her pockets and emptied the entire contents of her bag, but no phone. “Goddamnit!” she cried into the night.
Just then, she heard the flutter of wings. “Cas, thank God.”
“Nope, not quite, sugar.”
Y/N’s heart stopped. She knew that voice. It belonged to a sugar-coated god with a love for playing tricks. Her eyes flew to him. He was sucking on a lollipop, with a wicked smirk on his face.
“Trickster, what the hell are you doing here?”
Pulling the pop from his mouth, he bent down squat next her. “I figured you’d be happier to see me, sweetcheeks. What’s got you so down and in the dumps?”
“Like you don’t already know,” she scoffed.
“Deano giving you a hard time? He’s a stubborn bastard, but I’m sure he’ll come around.”
“Trickster, wake me up from this dream! I don’t know why you are doing this to me, but it’s not funny. I’m done. He said he never loved me and that I was worthless, a mistake. Just make the pain stop.” Hanging her head in her hands and wiping the tears from her eyes, she whispered, “Please just make it stop.”
The Trickster stared at her with sadness in his eyes. “Sugar, I didn’t do this,” he said rubbing her back gently.
Y/N paused to look at him. “So it was all real?”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Then why the hell are you here? To torment me some more?” she pushed his hand away.
“No,” he said, standing up. “There’s something I think you need to see. Take my hand and I’ll show you.”
“What? Why should I even trust you?” she stated, looking warily at his hand.
“Have I ever hurt you, Y/N?”
“You killed Dean for more than 100 Tuesday’s in a row...” she said giving him her best Sam-inspired bitch face.
He chuckled, smiling fondly at the memory. “Oh yeah! Good times. Good times. But, that wasn’t for you. That was for Sammy.”
She looked at him and rolled her eyes, not believing a word coming out of his mouth.
“Y/N, look, Zachariah has taken Dean and is showing him his future if he continues down this path. I think you should see it too.”
“Hold on. Zach has Dean? I have to go get him.” She got up from her position on the ground and began to gather her things. She shoved them into her bag quickly and began to walk back down the road to the motel.
“Whoa whoa whoa, sugar. Where do you think you’re going?”
She threw him an incredulous look. “To find Dean. Obviously.”
The trickster followed her. “Well, wait up, sweetcheeks. I’m going to take you to him.”
She stopped in her tracks. “Why?”
“Wel—”
“Wait.” She cut him off. “How do you even know any of this?”
“I have my ways,” he smirked wiggling his eyebrows. She rolled her eyes and continued to walk away from him.
“No. Alright, alright, Y/N. I’m doing this because I am trying to save you and Dean and Sam. The path you are all on right now is going to be hard and the world will come to an end. But, we have a chance. Right now.” He sighed and again reached out his hand. “Please just come with me and you’ll understand. What have you got to lose?”
Y/N paused and debated. Should she go with the trickster? Probably not. But he was right. She really didn’t have anything else to lose. And where the hell else was she supposed to go?
Screw it.
“Fine. But can you promise nothing bad will happen?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die,” he said crossing his heart with his lollipop.
Then the Trickster wiggled the fingers on his outstretched hand, his eyes asking her to take it. Y/N’s eyes flitted back and forth between his hand and his eyes. Exasperated, she sighed and took his hand.
“Off to the future we go!”
“Trickster, where the fuck are we?” Y/N was looking around, as she was walking behind the trickster. Through the mist and darkness, she could barely make out the trees around them.
“And where is all my stuff?” Her bag was now gone.
“We’re in the future. Come on, sweetcheeks. Keep up. I thought you were smarter than that.”
“Oh, right. My bad. The future consists only of forest! How silly of me? I must have forgotten.” She had stopped walking and placed her hands on her hips, staring daggers into the back of his head.
The Trickster chuckled. “Always the comedian, Y/N.” He glanced back at her and saw the look on her face and wiped the grin right off his face. “Uh,” he said rubbing the back of his neck. “We are just outside a place called Camp Chitaqua. We just have to walk a few more paces in that direction and we will be there.”
“Good,” she stated and pushed past him.
They walked in silence for a few more minutes. “Just keep on walking, sugar.”
“Trickster! You better not be checking out my ass back there...” her voice trailed off as she turned around to look at him. But he was nowhere to be seen. All she saw was the dark, silent forest.
“Trickster? What the fuck? Where are you?” Y/N howled into the night.
“Love, trust me. Just keep going.You’re almost there.” His voice was now more distant, like he was still watching from above somewhere.
“Goddamnit, trickster. When I find you, I am going to kick your sugar-coated ass!” She was yelling through the forest, stomping in the direction they were walking before. The only noise was her as she huffed her way there, blocking out the world around her.
Y/N wrapped her arms around herself, trying to keep warm. “Damn Trickster took all my stuff and left me all alone,” she muttered to herself as she kicked the ground in front of her. “Now I’m cold, with no idea where the fuck I am, and stuck in this god-forsaken forest.”
But the trickster was right. Just a little bit farther was a bright light. Y/N pushed through the leaves and branches towards the it.
When she emerged from the tree line, she was met with a tall fence. Along the top of the fence was curled barbed wire and a single light shining towards the ground. “Why would there be a fence like this in the middle of the woods?” She wondered.
Her instincts told her to continue to walking along the fence line near the light. Something about the darkness of that forest sent shivers down her spine. So yeah, she thought, staying along the fence line would be a good idea. Eventually it had to lead to an entrance or a sign or anything that could give her some sort of answer to where she was.
More walking and a few more minutes of silence Y/N could see a watchtower in the distance. Along the side of it read Camp Chitaqua. “Thank God,” she muttered.
Then she heard the snapping of a branch from behind her. Her hand flew to her belt where she kept her knife, but there was just empty space. “Well shit.” She began walking a bit faster, hearing the footfalls of whatever was behind her.
Stealing a glance over her shoulder, Y/N saw a person.
This person was just at the edge of the treeline, walking in the same direction. He wore tattered and dirty clothes. Perhaps he was on patrol protecting the fence. Calling out to him, Y/N asked, “Do you live here? Do you know what this place is?”
He stopped moving. He did not speak. Slowly, he trained his eyes on her and tilted his head to the side. His eyes narrowed. Blood began to drip out of the corner of his open mouth.
“Shit,” she gasped.
He began to move towards her, so she ran.
“Bad idea. Bad idea. Bad idea. Why did I have to open my big mouth?” She ran towards the only resemblance of safety she knew. The watchtower.
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw he was keeping speed with her. This only spurred her on faster. “Are you kidding me? A fast freakin’ zombie? Why did I put on boots and not sneakers earlier?”
She didn’t dare look back again. The heavy breathing and labored grunts of the thing behind her, let her know he was still there. As she ran, she checked herself for weapons. No hip knife. No gun tucked into the waistband of her jeans. No thigh holster. No knife at her ankle. Nothing. She had nothing.
As the watchtower approached, she began to call out for help. “Please! A little help out here!”
No response from inside the fence.
“Help me please,” she called out. Y/N could feel her body growing tired. Her legs were feeling heavy as she approached the gate next to the watchtower.
There was still no movement nor sign that anyone could hear her.
Y/N had reached the gate. No one was there. “Goddamnit Trickster! You promised,” she cried to herself. Stopped in front of the gate, she began to bang against it with her fists.
Whack. “Please let me in.” Whack. “I swear I’m not like that thing.” Whack. “Just please help me.” Whack.
Hearing the man approach her from behind, she turned and prepared for his attack. Once he was close enough she swung her fist. It came into contact with the side of his face, causing him to stumble back.
While he was distracted, Y/N looked on the ground for anything that she could fight with. Behind the man, she spotted a small fallen tree branch. “Great,” she grumbled. “Everything just is not going my way today.”
The man came at her again. She dodged his blow and lunged towards the branch. Grabbing it, she turned around to face him again ready for his attack and prepared to swing.
Bang.
The man fell to the ground in front of her.
“Thank god,” she sighed, clutching a hand to her chest and closing her eyes.
The click of a gun being cocked alerted her to the presence of another person. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just shoot you here and now.”
Y/N knew that gruff voice. Her eyes flew open to meet the barrel of a gun. They traveled up to meet the narrowed green eyes of the man who had just told her that she was a mistake.
“Hi, D.” Her voice came out small and quiet as she looked at him.
But as she looked at him, something was different. He seemed older somehow, his face hard, and his eyes stony.
“Who the hell are you?” he demanded. Looking into his eyes, she noticed the hurt behind his stony gaze.
“Dean, please, it’s me. It’s Y/N. I swear.”
He shoved the gun further into her face. “No, you’re not. It’s not possible.”
“I promise. Do the tests. I know you carry them with you. I’m no shifter or demon. I’m human. I swear,” she pleaded, holding her hands up in surrender.
“You shouldn’t be here. You can’t be here.”
Extending an arm out she whispered, “Please. Just do it.”
His eyes searched her face. He sighed. Grabbing her forearm, he did the tests. No reaction.
“See I told you I would pass,” she smirked.
Still holding her arm, he pulled her with him, “Come with me.”
It was now that she began to notice the other people standing around them. All of them were looking at the both of you, with questions in their eyes.
“Clean up and lock it down,” Dean demanded, making his way inside the gate.
“But sir—,” one man began.
“I said, lock it down. I will handle this. No more interruptions tonight. Go back to your posts.”
“Yes, sir,” they all stated together.
Dean kept his grip on Y/N and dragged her with him. “Dean, where are we going? What is this place? What the hell was that thing?”
No response. She looked at his face in the moonlight as they moved through the camp. His expression was still hard, but there was worry now etched into his features.
“Let me go. I am not going anywhere with you,” she exclaimed. She jerked her arm from his grasp. “What the fuck is happening? Tell me what is going on.”
He opened his mouth to say something but closed is when he looked into her eyes. As he stared into her eyes, his face changed. A sadness took over him. He rushed towards her and wrapped her in his arms. Breathing her in he whispered, “I missed you, sweetheart.”
Y/N yelped in surprise. “Uh, Dean, what the fuck?”
He pulled back to look at her. She pushed him off.
“Just a few hours ago you were telling me I was a mistake! Now, you miss me. Get the fuck out of here.”
“Y/N/N, I can explain—”
“And another thing, you let Zach whisk you—”
Dean clamped his hand over her mouth. “Come on we are going to my cabin. I promise we will figure this out.”
Part 3 Part 4 Part 5
#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester#reader insert#endverse!dean#angst#fluff#which one are you? challenge#which one are you?#demon dean is my baby
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Main Story Outline
Black and White (working title)
Part I- Will joins the Black court (White Court)
Who's Red
meeting
remember? Backstory (kinda)
what is the white court? What do you do?
This is abuse. I'm getting you out
I get you have a skewed perspective, but, really!
you don't need to be anyone's soldier
you sold your SOUL?!
Okay, how can we do this? It's time for research!
Introduce Glass Mask sub-plot
A powerful artifact and semi-sentient, produced as the universe’s counter to magic.
Will is intrigued, but ultimately decides the mask would be too dangerous to use.
At some point, Will dips into more magical sources, either on purpose or by accident, and one of the Black Lady’s servants comes to confront him.
A method! Let us execute it!
The Board and the Rites
Preparing
Finding. The damn. Contracts.
Start the Rites
Crap!
Attack! (Battle of the Board)(that's as far as they get before they are caught. The Board has some very powerful magical significance, though, and is usually where part of the contract-making process occurs)
Will sells his soul, and regains some memories.
Part II- Will and Red re-align and plan (Black Court)
Introduction to the court
Infinite apartment building, from a modification on the standard infinite forest. As far as human members are concerned, exits only lead to the Board, the Market, and various points in the human world. These exits are arrayed around the building, almost seeming at random, but there is a pattern somewhere. There is a time dilation, but not a large or consistent one. Like +/- 1 day.
The Black Lady, her rules and ruling
The court and the developers
It appears I need a new name.
Who are you guys? What are we doing
Time passes
Will/Tim befriends the developers and other members of the court
Angst and sweetness with Joe/ Volto
Any’s mech, a subplot
Movie night!
Damn, the Game’s sound kind of even more horrible than I thought.
The Basement, i.e. the torture chamber for Bad Courtiers (maybe run by Steve? Maybe Steve is constantly tortured? Steve is involved)
Tim does R&D
Let’s all go to the Market!
Continuation of the Glass Mask sub-plot
I have modified some cool magic based off of physics because gODDAMNIT, science works!
Tim is slightly obsessed with incorporating iron into anything possible. Iron salts are his new best friend.
Tim and Red (Rose) meet (again)
So I was hoping you would still remember me? No? Well s hit.
Timur should have expected it sooner.
I’m not a Black mage. I just wanted us to be clear on that. I am a developer, there is a difference, I'm not on the board.
I didn't give my whole name. This should give me a bit more leeway in my obedience. I still can't outright harm, but neglect and sedition is much easier than it would have been.
We're friends. I mean, I forgot, now you've forgotten... It's complicated.
We had a plan. Not a good one, but it existed.
No, really, they're evil, I swear
Tim becomes a piece.
Fuck.
After first game
Will and Taylor team up
We are looking for leads a bit deeper in Faerieland and oH SHOOT WE'VE BEEN ATTACKED, but Tim saves the day.
Emma shows up
The hell are you doing here?!/ Nerd?! // What the hell, you remember me?/ What the hell, you're real?
New recruits came all the time
Some more dialogue
"I sold it," Tim said
Some more dialogue
"What did you trade?"
Tim explains what he can/ is willing to.
Emma’s side of it
“I was pretty sure I remembered you, but there was no official documents proving you existed, so that messed me up for a while.”
“Then I decided ‘screw that’ and went to find you anyway.”
There was a sound like discordant wind chimes.
“What you thought I found you all by myself? Heck no, I got help.”
Team includes Stacy (phone friend), a couple other of
Emma’s friends, and Peter, Will’s friend who no longer remembers him.
No one has official connections to either Court except Emma.
(Huh) says Tim (A team sounds like a good idea. Maybe I should look into that)
“And they… believe you?” “Kinda? Some of them do at least. Peter thinks its a government cover up.”
"Well. Hmm. Can I bring my baby sister into this crazy plan?”
Debate
Some internal debate.
Some debate with Red.
Verdict: Hell No.
A nightmare
Part III- A better and more viable plan, i.e. let's do a revolution. (Gray Gang)
Guess who wants to get involved? That’s right, it’s Emma.
“No.” says Tim.
Spectrum
Who are they?
(Was Ash)- royal self-aligned (ineligible for throne) pansexual non binary (genderfluid) (Prince, but non binary, thanks.)
Oh, you didn’t know this is just about succession? Wait, you thought this was about Unseelie and Seelie? Dudes, no.
Someone contaminated me. See the wings? Blue, means I'm impure, unfit to rule.
Also, I'm like, way younger.
What will they do for us?
Legitimate heir to the throne, could challenge their sisters and demand the freedom of all the Bonded.
“I mean, I don't really feel like doing anything, but if you've got something to offer…”
“What do you want?” “I'm loooonely, be my friend.” “Oh, sure.”
Also, say Spectrum, to themself, That is a very cute boy right there and I want to seduce him.
This will not work. At all.
The Gray gang
Emma has weedled her way into this mission.
Does not bring her group, but is in contact with them.
They try to see if they can do anything more mundane for them.
What are you?
Support group for ex-courtiers.
Made of both Black and White.
The Ones That Got Out Too Late
Courtiers who were only able to escape after they had lost a significant portion of humanity. They cannot rejoin human society.
Headed (loosely) by two who joined back in the middle ages or earlier, one from each court, they got immortality, and have honestly lived long enough at this point and soaked up enough ambient magic that they are two thirds of the way to fae already. This would worry them, if they weren’t already beyond the point of caring about pretty much anything.
Umber
Black
Original deal was for immortality, but boy do they regret that now.
Lux
White
They are one of the very few Old Whites, since humans in the White Court tend to lose their humanity through weird, magical osmosis, and the iron in their own blood starts to poison them. The ones who survived made some kind of deal to counteract that.
The Ones That Got Out With Nothing
What it says on the tin
Identity erased, no family, no money, nothing.
Maybe a boon, but it’s a pretty useless one now.
The Ones That Got Out With Trauma
May or may not have returned to family.
But how do you explain that for a while you were a soldier in a war of immortal, amoral beings?
Maybe you killed for them, and if you did, what does that make you?
Maybe you made weapons, and does that make you as bad as a killer?
Who knows! These are not fun questions!
Magic addiction is totally a thing, and very hard to satisfy unless you were born naturally gifted.
Operate under the radar
Apparently, they've been around a while.
Boy, we could have used you in part one.
Yeah, well, we've been trying to keep a low profile. You are not at all low profile.
“Touché, but what is your plan?” “Help the people who actually get out.”
New idea: what if you teamed up with us and help stage a revolution?
Hell no.
We do have this semi-legitimate heir to the throne to utilize?
No, that's worse, we're not working for THEM anymore.
Well, you wouldn't be working for Spec either, they just make the thing binding.
(Also) says Tim to himself, (Glass Mask backup plan)
Fine, I guess.
Hey, Spec, guess what!
Oh sweet, says Spec, also, did some looking, turns out there is a not unsmall faction of fae who also do not like this system.
Hell yes
Turns out they have a similarish set up on my side.
It’s Maren and Mark.
Hell yes
Part IV- Now that we’ve decided to do this thing, let’s do some awesome prep work (my favorite part) and then FIGHT! (Red Army)
Strategy/ inspiring speech montage (best part),
Tim, Red, Emma, and some of her crew hang with the Gray Gang with more frequency.
Tim is a good big picture/big plan guy, but Red is where we really get strategy.
The breakdown goes like this:
Tim: Here is a goal/ step that needs to be accomplished
Spec: Here are some ways to do that and their cost/benefits.
Red: Here is which one is most tactically sound, given out resources and position.
GG/Em Folks: Here is what you need to do that, let's go!
Tim is able to recruit some folks from the Black Court, those who do not have very constricting contracts, or those that can leave, or those that find loopholes.
Somehow, the Ladies find out about the planned rebellion and the Gang base is attacked.
The base is attacked by fae soldiers and/or loyal bonded humans
Short scuffle where some folks including Tim fight as a diversion while others make an escape route and flee to an inbetween.
Tim gets stabbed.
Shoot! (Hey look, other allies, namely, Jo)
But hey, we have someone who can help!
Really? Say Red and Emma and Spec and any defectors and probably a bunch of GG folks as well.
Yeah, say a small group, now looking slightly sheepish, uh, their name is Jo.
JO!
Bit of their back story, probably starting with “Jo never realized the dangers of lending milk money to strange teenagers…”
Recoup
Hey, Spec, can we stage the final battle yet? We’re asking you ‘cause Tim’s unconscious.
I mean, we wanted to wait until May (or November?) Day? Because of magical significance? That’s not too far off at this point.
Okay, so we need to hold out just a bit longer.
Tim wakes up and he is maaaaad…
He actually seems just a wee bit crazy right now
Like, instead of being ruthless but clean, now he’s plans almost seem, sloppy.
“Okay, so we do this and this...” “Tim, we can’t do both of those things at once for some reason you should really know and may have actually pointed out to us at some point.” “Ah, so we can’t, well-”
He is TERRIFIED and FURIOUS, and that is not the mood you want your teenager general to be in.
This whole time, there have been continuous small strikes at any GG/ defector/ fae ally groups that are out in the open.
Like, any time they need to get food, or when trying to communicate between mortal and fae side groups
One of these missions is headed by some of the fae side operatives, and results in the destruction of a few select contracts, including Red's.
This is not helping anyone, but it is especially not helping Tim.
He feels trapped, like everything is closing in on him.
Hey, Tim, you good?
The other folks are genuinely a bit worried about him now, because this does not seem like him at all
Oops, we lose Tim.
Tim is part of a group attacked by adversaries.
He was probably not supposed to be part of this group because he is recOVERING FROM A STAB WOUND and cannot fight or defend against any members of the Black Court.
Honestly, though, this almost feels like relief, ‘cause some of these folks are definitely Whites and this is SOMETHING as opposed to however long he’s been cooped up doing nothing but planning.
Tim is not typically a man of action, but anticipation gets to even him.
Either just Tim gets taken while providing cover for the rest (look, it’s easy to sacrifice theoretical soldiers, but it’s much harder to abandon the friends in front of you), or the whole group gets taken ‘cause Tim tried to abandon them, or just Tim gets taken for the same reason. (Option one sounds more like Tim, but options two/three fit better with the devolution arc.)
Crap.
Okay, so this is pretty bad; who knows what the Black Lady's doing to him?
We (the readers) do. She's torturing him for information about this upcoming attack and how he has been resisting her commands.
We gotta do something!
It'd be too risky to spring him, says someone, we'd probably just get captured as well.
Hey, Spectrum, when were we planning on staging this whole thing again? In just a few days, Spec says, uncharacteristically grim, He'll have to hold out until then.
This visibly pains Spec, they really like Tim, possibly a crush.
PRE-BATTLE MONTAGE BABEEY!
A reiteration of the basic plan.
People are running around, suiting up however they suit up, saying their "I love you"s however they do.
Big speech, collaborative from Rose Red, Spectrum, Lux and Umber, Maren and Mark, and Emma.
What are we fighting for today?
What we have lost, what has been taken from us.
The many who have not escaped as we did.
A better society in the future.
This is not a rescue mission. They are not going in to save Tim, there are going in to break the system. Saving Tim is just one of the good results of this. As such, this is not a rescue speech, this is a revolutionary's speech.
Battle!
Includes the fantastic line of “talk s hit, get hit!” by someone attacking a chant based spellcaster.
Culmination of the “Any’s Mech” sub-plot (may be a two pilot mech with Em as the other pilot)
Also includes Albus' redemption, where he does something sacrificial to help/protect Rose Red and by extension The People's Court. (The Rainbow Court? What court is Spec?)
Possibilities include
Albus refusing to fight when played, kneeling in submission before his opponent.
That's all I got right now.
So what does this involve, actually?
This is Spec making a formal claim to the throne and showing they have the manpower to back it up.
They have to fight their way there.
They escalate from “Right to be The Chosen Heir to the Monochrome Court” to “Make Me King Right Now I’ll Fight You”
So they set up a three-way board, each side playing for itself, but also trying to play the other two off each other.
The Black and White Ladies have pieces of various shapes and talents, but they all wear the color of their court. Spectrum's side lives up to their name, it is a riot of color from all of those who have pledged themselves to them.
This might be a no-mercy match, or at least the Ladies might try and play it that way, knowing that whoever wins this game gets all the contracts.
Resolution of the Glass Mask sub-plot
Tim escapes wherever he is because he never gave his whole true name.
Before this though, I want him to have a confrontation with the Black Lady.
"Magic likes a story right? So which one is this, huh? They say there are only seven basic plots, so which one is this?"
He says it's "Slaying the Monster"
Tim sees this as his only chance to fight on the side of what he sees as justice, since by submitting to the mask, he gives up any identity he has, including the identity he “gave” to the Black Lady.
True, he becomes a kind of raging monster, but hey, it means he isn’t fighting for the “wrong” side.
This Ends TERRIBLY.
He takes a deep breath before putting on the mask
Red, Spec, and Emma are understandably freaked the heck out, that’s their friend in that thing, and he doesn’t do this kind of thing! What is happening, and can our dude be saved?
Maybe? Currently, we know of two options: option one, and the better backed option, we try to break the mask, which will collapse this current iteration. This will probably kill our dude. Option two, which is mostly just wishful thinking, is an act of true love, and they don’t really have much there either.
They end up having to go with option one, saving the Faerie dimension from certain doom.
“it’s over we won” *monster slowly staggers up in the background* *comrades point and try to speak* “No, it’s over. We won. We’re done now, everybody go home” *a meteorite drops from the sky, killing the monster* “Will…” “That was not me” “But Will-” “That was nOT ME”
Will may or may not have residual cosmic powers
Freedom for the bonded.
Probably collaborative shenanigans with Will’s maybe cosmic powers and Spec’s new legal ones.
Part V- So, how does one live after all this? (Epilogue)
Going home?
Welp, looks like my mom remembers me now. That’s nice I guess. She’s gonna kill me.
Welp, looks like my dad remembers me now. That sucks, I hate that guy.
I grew up in the nineteen thirties. Does my immortality still apply? If I leave the Faerie dimension do I die? I have no clue how life out there works anymore, and I have no living relatives I can contact for help.
I liked living here, do I have to leave?
Gray Gang to the rescue!
Umber and Lux are fae enough and served long enough to earn themselves actual small estates. They work with Mark and Maren and combine the property and modify it with Spec’s help so that people who need to can stay there.
Some of the people they had helped in the past actually grew up to be pretty successful, like doctor/ lawyer kind of successful. The Gray Gang gets into contact with them, and people who need it get human help (therapy, temporary living, working papers, etc.)
Effect on Faerie society
Specifically, what are our main characters doing?
Probably accomplished through a scene featuring some or all of them, talking about life.
Rose probably stays in Faerie as one of Spec’s most trusted knights, so she doesn’t have to worry about going back to her dad. She is of course welcome to stay with the Gerbers, but that could get dicey legally. She is still free to come and go from Faerie as she pleases, within reason.
A news report, or a scene from Rose’s dad’s perspective. She’s out getting groceries with Will and she sees him and just. Decks him. It’s great.
"Wiiiillllll," Rose whined, tugging on Will's sleeve like a needy two-year-old, "Willll, I neeeed iiiit."
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M-21 vs Sleep deprivation
A good while ago someone reblogged a writing prompt about a character not being able to sleep and mentioned a scenario with M-21 (or something along that line, really, I don’t even remember who was the one who reblogged it, goddamnit it would be so nice to be able to tag the person uuuuuuuhg !!!) and I ended up writing something and never edited it and forgot I had written it but here it is:
M-21 is having bad dreams, so he has the great idea of stop sleeping all together; or “M-21 needs to Go the Fuck to Sleep.”
EDIT: there's a significant change near the end, I'll highlight it and put a (☆) if you want to check out, I’ll also explain what the hell happened in the notes.
He's digging digging digging his hands are bloody, all he can see is grey, grey rocks and M-24 is buried and dying so he has to keep digging digging digging-
Day 1
M-21 felt shaken, weak. It didn't matter how strong he became, he was a failed project that couldn't help the one person that mattered. He couldn't help anyone. How many times had he failed at protecting the people he lived with? They put everything into making the weakling able to fight, and every time they had to put their necks at risk to save him because he never could win, never could do anything right. In the end Frankenstein had to come and rescue them, even him had to die little by little to clean his mess.
The whole day everyone had their eyes on him, obviously thinking how useless he was, it should be a blessing to be able to close himself in his room and be alone for a while, but it only brought him closer to his nightmares. In his sleep there would be no rest, only digging digging diggin digging-
He spent the night sitting by his desk, trying not to thinking.
Day 2
Without nightmares and forcing himself to eat a big breakfast he felt more like himself, the day was slow and peaceful and productive. The school was safe and he had been able to help Takeo with training and Tao with the security system, moving cameras and sensors around until late in the night. Going back home wasn't a problem, but when he was finally in his room there was uneasiness fogging his mind.
He couldn't sleep. He had had a great day without sleeping, as a modified human there was no need for such a thing. He had done it before, spend days running around like a fool doing some dirty work or another for the Union.
He was fine.
Day 5
He was feeling short tempered, not really angry at anyone, but the staring was back. Everyone looking at him, like he was a failure with bloody hands from digging digging digging-
Breakfast was tasteless and he left for work earlier, everything was going too slow, he wanted the day done and gone, before he was able to fuck things up like he did everything in his life.
Everything was noisy and he felt like something was about to happen, but it never came. Maybe the starring never stopped, maybe he was being watched. Measured. His worth being judged.
The whole day was like that, his nerves taunt, waiting waiting waiting-
He couldn't sleep.
Day ?
He could survive without sleep. He felt better, always alert. Always ready. Maybe he could survive without food too. It was all so tasteless and the process was such a chore: sit, grab food, chew, swallow, repeat. Ignore the stares. They were always staring now, waiting for him to falter, but he wouldn't. M-24 wouldn't want him to fail again, he told him so.
When he got to his room that night he heard M-24 say "you shouldn't sleep," so he didn't. He couldn't disappoint M-24 again.
Day ??
Frankenstein is in his room. Maybe he finally grew tired of him and will kick him out. He's going to miss that house and everyone there. He felt sorry he couldn't be more than a failure.
"You're not a failure."
M-21 frowned. Frankenstein was talking but the ones with the mental powers where the nobles.
"You're muttering. You really should lay down now."
But if he's not ready something bad will happen. He's waiting so he can be of use. Nobody else needs to die.
"I'll wake you when it comes, so you'll be rested and full of energy."
☆But if he sleeps he'll die.
"Ah. So here's the problem."
Frankenstein turned to the door where he was standing, he lifted a hand and-
After taking M-21 to their room and tucking him in the king size bed, Frankenstein took a book from the shelf and made himself comfortable at his side of the bed, taking a second to check one more time over M-21. The kid was out like a light, and would stay like that for a good while after days without sleep and, lately, barely eating. They had let this foolishness go too far, waiting for M-21 to open up. Now he was lying curled on his side, his head on top Raizel's lap.
Rai was propped against the headboard, from time to time moving a hand to pat M-21’s hair or adjust the thick blanket over him. There was a heavy shadow over his face that Frankenstein knew well to be worry.
"When he wakes up," Frankenstein said in a low tone, even if the chances of waking M-21 were low. "We'll talk."
Notes
I should have taken the chance to do a good and long research about sleep deprivation, but I got lazy while trying to read about it? Usually I’m a sucker for that kind of research, but it happens idk I winged it with the few things I remembered reading before but it’s not ideal.
There was an interview were Son and/or Lee say the modified humans need less sleep and food (and that’s such bullshit) they even say Frankenstein only sleeps a few minutes when needed and he does so in his everyday clothes sitting on a chair in his office, that’s no fun!
Anyway, at first I had intended to write further, but it wasn’t flowing so I cut it before it became a train wreck...
btw not sleeping kill neurons and neurons are very freaking precious and specials cells in your brain that you need to cherish and take care of, so go the fuck to sleep.
EDIT
ok guys I corrected a big thing that I accidentally changed while editing: it's been a while since I wrote it, not a huge time ago, but was enough that I messed up this little thing, when M-21 mutters "But if he sleeps M-24’ll die." the original was "But if he sleeps he’ll die." so I was like oh boy I was really sleepy when I wrote this, but the thing is that I wasn't (the plot thickens), it wasn't properly edited so it should be "But if he sleeps he’ll die." because M-21 don't want to fail Rai.
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The Whispers of Shadows
Chapter VI
Nightmares
* * * * * *
Swords in hand, he stepped carefully across the clear field. The sun beat down upon him, shining through the scattered trees to the bright green grass under his feet. He couldn't quite remember why he was there or what he was doing, but he felt like there was something important he needed to do. As he turned his head, the fog was now thick with a brisk drizzle of rain shimmering down from the sky; the grass - damp and muddy - though he could have sworn it was dry just a moment before.
It didn't matter now, because there was something he knew he needed to do.
He crept forward and noticed the blurred figure through the fog - the one he'd been looking for - whom was quickly becoming clearer with each passing step.
Have to do it... The lone soldier thought to himself. For them....
He lunged forward, ready to strike - his blade poised to slice clean through the warm body in front of him. The soldier outstretched his arm behind him, then swung. His eyes pierced through the foggy atmosphere with fiery intent. The blade came forward. Blood gushed from flesh as a shoulder was split from it's torso deep into the sternum, until it was suddenly stopped.
“Tch!” He scowled as he tried to pull away, but his sword was now being held in place by strong fingers.
“Levi...” A familiar voice rang out.
The soldier stopped, as he looked up at the figure before him and found that he recognized the face all too well. The neatly parted blonde hair. The intense green eyes. The strong, determined expression. A sudden feeling of sadness and shame came over him as he realized who he'd just murdered...
“.....”
“...Erwin...?”
“...?!”
“Huh!” His eyes shot open, having little control over his body as he let out a breath and gasped for another one - his lungs tight and choking with their need for oxygen. Sitting up - his chest still heaving as he tried to look around through the pitch black - he couldn't yet tell if he was really awake or still dreaming. He reached over and felt around where the nightstand should be for a small box, grasping when he found it and fumbling as he tried to open it. When his shaky hands had finally managed to get it open, he took a match out and gave it a good strike.
Finally... light.
“Petra...” Levi said, reaching over to his side without looking, but found no one was there. “Huh...?” He muttered confusedly as he looked over his shoulder. Wait... He thought. This isn't our...
The Captain blinked several times and shuddered as his mind finally began to come out of its subconscious. He tilted his head down and rubbed his eyes, lightly pinching the bridge of his nose. Goddamnit... The soldier cursed to himself.
Levi took a shaky breath, trying to slow his racing heart beat and content to let the nightmare drift from his memory and be forgotten. But he knew he would never be able to truly escape... They haunted him. The ghosts of a memory that could never truly be forgotten.
Feeling the heat of the match near his fingertips, he opened his eyes and reached it over to the lantern nearby. Satisfied with the light, he put it out; then brought his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, hugging them tightly as he realized he was sitting in sheets soaked with a cold sweat.
It was nights like this that made him glad he slept alone.
He stayed in that position for a while as he took slow, deep breaths and waited for his body to stop shaking. That was all he could really do.
Gingerly, he peeled the sheets off of him, scowling in disgust. His shirt and boxers were even worse, cold and damp and sticking to his body. He swing his legs over the side of the bed, pausing a moment to rest his elbows on his knees and roughly rub his face with both hands. Outside his window, it was still dark... of course.
Levi couldn't remember the last time he woke up after sunrise.
He stood up slowly, putting a hand on his back as he stretched, and reached for his smokes in the nearby cabinet of the tiny room. His hand landed on them with a tired carelessness and a hurried desperation as he fumbled to extract one.
Lighting it with another match, he took a drag and began to calm; allowing the smoke that escape his lungs to drift through the air and wash a chemical induced peace over him. Though, it only helped so much, and it wasn't nearly enough.
Stumbling slightly in the dark, he stepped over to the window where he could see the moon in the sky and a few stars through the thin, scattered clouds. He held his smoke in his mouth as he reached down for the window, having to use both hands and slam it a couple times to get the old, rusty thing to slide open.
“Tchh...” He scoffed tiredly as he brushed his hands together, now sullied with dirt and damp grime. He wiped the gunk off on his shirt, not really caring at the moment because his clothes were already dirty and he felt gross already anyway.
He relaxed as much as he could get himself to and leaned against the wall next to the open window, blowing the smoke from his cigarette into the wind outside. A gust suddenly whipped through. Not too hard, but enough to make Levi shudder as it brushed past his still damp skin and clothing.
From there, the first two things on his mind were tea and a bath. The first thing he had to do was fetch water from the pump outside before lighting a fire in the kitchen stove to heat it. After all, just because everyone else smelled like they lived in a barn didn't mean he had to.
Once the water was hot and the tea was ready, he gathered a clean set of clothes and a towel and headed for the lav, which was less like a lav and more like a closet with a sink and a narrow bathtub behind two wooden stall doors. Luckily though, it was located at the end of the hallway and the toilet was outside, so he didn't have to worry about anyone peeking in accidentally.
The Captain meticulously made sure everything was in it's place before he got started. The lantern on the shelf, his clothes neatly stacked on the stool, the sponge, soap and pot of water in their designated places in and around the tub.
Levi began to undress, carefully peeling the damp cloth away from his skin. As he lifted the white shirt over his head, a small necklace fell from its entanglement onto his chest – a simple stainless steel chain with a small ornament of the same material - and felt it's cold bite as the air cooled the metal.
His dirty clothes he wasn't so careful about, as he tossed his shirt, and then his boxers, into a nearby bucket to be washed. Now nude, he stepped carefully into the bath and kneeled down into it, wrapping his arms around his knees again for a moment as he shuddered from the cold chill in the air.
As he tried to adjust to the temperature, he stared forward at the metal tub of hot water in front of him - its steam teasingly wafting up in gentle wisps as the heat rose into the frigged atmosphere. He finally reached out and grabbed the sponge, quickly dipping it in and soaking it with a generous amount of water before putting it to his neck. He felt his body begin to relax as the warm liquid spilled over his shoulder and down the skin of his chest and back. Slowly moving the hot sponge to the back of his neck, he closed his eyes and let out a sigh as the warmth caused a tingling sensation all over his body.
As he gently glided the sponge over different parts of his body, his mind began to wonder back to the nightmare he had. The sick feeling in his gut lingered even though the dream was long over and far from real.
...But it felt so real. They always did... especially the bad ones.
* * * * * *
Petra stood in front of a mirror in a white bath robe as she brushed her long, strawberry blonde hair - her eyes in a deep stare as she slowly ran the brush through the smooth locks - her quiet thoughts accompanied only by the sound of gently rippling water. The room was nice and warm, just the way Levi liked it, thanks to the large fireplace in the masters chambers of the Castle.
“Oi...” A low, quiet voice called to her. “Did you fall asleep?”
She blinked, taking a moment to break from her thoughts. “No. I'm awake.”
“These tubs are amazing.”
“Hmm...” She smirked a little, before standing up and walking towards the voice. She stopped in the bathroom doorway, leaning against the door frame and tilting her head as she laid her eyes on the Captain. He laid relaxed in the bathtub, his nude body submerged in steaming hot water. “Found something you like in thus 'musty old dump'?” She said, recanting his words from earlier that day.
“There are some things to appreciate.” Levi said as he reached over and picked up a bottle of Chardonnay. “Look what I found in the wine cellar.” He turned the bottle around, squinting his eyes at the label. “Fiert'e de Sina, eight years old.”
The strawberry blonde smiled gently, but shook her head. “You go ahead, I'm not really in the mood.”
“Really?” Levi asked curiously.
She just shrugged.
“Suit yourself.” He said as he sat up and positioned himself to open it. “Watch out.”
Petra prepared herself, putting her hand on the doorknob, ready to shield herself with the door.
The Captain grit his teeth a moment as he used his thumb to pop off the cork, sending it flying across the room.
“Ah!” Petra yelped as it bounced off the wall, still startling her though it was nowhere near her. She laughed in amusement as she watched Levi shake off one of his hands, the drink now fizzing and spilling over into the tub.
“Shit.” He cursed as he hung the bottle over the edge of the tub, which continued to drip onto the floor. “Goddamnit.”
“Want me to get a towel?” She asked with as smirk.
“Fuck it...” He huffed lightly, “Come here.” Then outstretched an arm to her, gesturing with his hand. “Take a champagne bath with me.”
She smiled, then turned as she gingerly took off her robe, hanging it on the hook behind the door. He watched as she slowly turned towards him and stepped towards the bath, admiring her now nude body as she said, “That sounds...”
“...Romantic?” He quipped.
“I was gonna say sticky...”
“Heh...” Levi chuckled a bit.
“You don't wanna change the water?”
“It's just wine...” He said with a shrug. “I'm not that much of a neat freak...”
Petra giggled before carefully stepping into the water, straddling Levi as she sat down. “Yes, you are.” She said with a smirk. “I bet you're gonna take a shower after this.”
“Well... yeah. Of course. That's what you're supposed to do.” He said, raising an eyebrow. “How do you take baths?”
“Ha.” She laughed a bit, giving him a mischievous look as she leaned in closer to him, then replied, “In mud.” She quipped, then gave him a peck on the lips. “Sloppy, filthy mud.”
“Ugh...” Levi played along as he rolled his eyes, only half-serious and having to pause a moment as she kissed him again. “...Gross.”
“It's very good for the skin.” She continued, kissing him again. “It exfoliates.”
“Stop.” He said gruffly, but tiredly. “No.”
“Yup.”
Their conversation faded into oblivion as the two exchanged gentle kisses, all other cares melting away in the warmth of each others embrace.
Levi slowly ran his hands up the curves of her body, then gently cupped one over her breast.
“Mmm...” She squirmed uncomfortably.
Levi pulled back a moment to look at her. “What's wrong?”
“Nothing...” She answered. “I'm just a little cold.”
“Ohh...” He acknowledged. “Turn around.” He said and motioned to her.
She did as he suggested, turning and spooning up against him. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, trying to cover her where the water was not, and hugging her tightly. “Better?”
“Yeah.” She said, smiling happily and wrapping her arms over his.
* * * * * *
After washing, Levi dried himself off, then threw on a plain white robe before heading back into the main room. It was still early. No one else would be up for a while yet. He started another fire.
The flame blazed with a warm light and the sweet smell of burning tinder drifted throughout the house. It's crackling ambient noise brought the soldier a sense of peace as it reminded him of simpler times. He stood there quietly for a while, sipping his tea with a robe wrapped around him, his hair still damp and his skin still soft with moisture.
Suddenly, he heard a door click and footsteps coming down the stairs. The familiar figure of a boy with long, blonde hair - half asleep and wrapped in his cloak - slowly wondered into the room. The Captains eyes shifted narrowly, immediately annoyed by the presence of another person, and a bit embarrassed for them to find him standing alone in front of the fire with nothing but a robe over him and sleepy bags under his eyes.
As the young man made it to the bottom of the stairs, he blinked, squinting in the light as he tugged at the cloak around him. “Mmm... Captain?”
“...Hey.” Levi said in a flat, tired tone.
“Ahh... ” Armin mumbled a bit as his face contorted while he tried to adjust his eyes to the light of the fire. “...You really don't sleep much, do you?”
Levi just glared at him, then looked away.
Armin blinked, suddenly realizing in his tired state he'd let his mouth run without thinking again. He pressed his lips together, secretly cringing at himself, then started towards the door, pulling his hood up.
“...Where are you going?” Levi asked, turning after him.
“I, uh...” Armin shuddered, glancing back - now doubly embarrassed. “I have to pee...”
“Oh...” Levi said and turned back to the fire after Armin hurriedly left out the front door, of which through the early morning sky shined in a dark blue light as dawn slowly approached. The cool air wafted inside, causing a frosty breeze to wisp past Levi's exposed feet. Several quiet and uncomfortable minutes went by as he stood there in front of the fire, waiting for the young man to pass him and go back to bed so he could continue being alone.
And he'd be lying if he said he didn't feel kind of shitty after snapping at him earlier that night.
Levi didn't bother to look over when he heard the door unlatch and creek open, followed by the shuffling of footsteps.
“Ah, shit!” He heard Armin spat under his breath following a hard THUD as the blonde clumsily made his way through the darkness.
The Captain curiously turned his head towards Armin and gave him a questioning look as the blonde scuffled towards him, shivering and holding his cloak tightly around himself as he tried to warm up. Levi eyed him for a moment, looking him up and down as a thought crossed his mind. “...Did you wash your hands while you were out there?”
“Huh? Uh... no...?” His subordinate replied as he stopped and looked up at him, his eyes shifting back and forth a moment.
Armin saw the muscles in Levi's face tense in a way that was both subtle and strikingly unsettling. “.....Why?” He said in a low and unpleasant tone.
“Well, there's... not really anything to wash your hands with...”
“There's a water pump...” Levi said. “You could at least rinse them...”
“Oh...” The young man said, a bit flustered. “Bu-but... it's so cold...”
“Tch...” His superior scowled in disgust and turned away.
Armin shivered, then came to kneel down next to the fire.
The Captain's eyes shifted. “...What are you doing?”
“I'm freezing...” The blonde said with a slight scowl. “Do you have a problem with that?”
Levi blinked as he stared down at him, then just looked away.
Armin glanced next to him, up at the Captain a moment, then looked back down at the fire.
The veteran shifted uncomfortably, his eyes wondering a moment before speaking. “You can...” He said quietly, with a slow rasp in his voice, “...Pull up a chair... if you want...”
The blonde looked up at him, but Levi barely made eye contact before turning away.
Armin blinked, then stood up and carefully pulled a chair over to the fireplace as to not make too much noise.
As he sat next to the Captain, it was uncomfortably silent. The young blonde didn't look over at Levi. He focused on the fire, just trying to get warm. He was unnerved by the Captain's presence and wanted to get away from him as soon as he could stop shaking from the cold. Just as he was getting ready to pull himself out of his seat, Levi spoke to him.
“Sorry...” He said quietly, the reflection of the fire shining off his vacant eyes. “...I know I can be kind of a dick.”
The blonde blinked and looked back at him, letting his weight back down onto the chair. He stared at him a moment before he lowered his head and his eyes shifted back to the flames. “Ahh... it's... alright...” He said. “I... I think I get it...”
Levi glanced at him a moment. “...You do?”
“Well... yeah...” Armin said thoughtfully lowering his eyes. “...You must miss her.”
Levi turned away, back to the fire, his expression once again falling blank. The silence drifted through the air, so thick it could seep through the skin. Nothing but the crackling of the fire offered any relief from it.
After a moment, The Captain lowered his head and turned away. “...Stop.”
“...Stop?” Armin said, looking over at him confused.
“Yes... Whatever it is you're doing. Just stop...” He said, his voice barely a whisper.
“I... I'm not...”
“I know what you're doing...” He suddenly turned his head and glared at the boy. “You can read people, can't you?” He continued lowly. “So, you think you can see right through me...right?”
The blonde just blinked and swallowed hard. "I don't understand..."
"Cut the crap." Levi said tiredly. “Smart guy... I don't need to explain it to you.” He scowled as he spoke. “Just stay out of my head, Armin. I don't want you there... And trust me, you don't wanna be there either.”
"Captain... I-I was just...” Armin said quietly, shrugging a little at Levi's sternness. “...I was just trying to say... I understand that you're hurting right now... I..." Armin spoke softly, feeling himself shrink a little. “I'm sorry...”
Levi looked away and closed his eyes, this time his expression more pained then frustrated.
The blonde turned back to the fire, wringing his hands nervously.
“Tch..." Levi said under his breath in the midst of the quiet. "So annoying...” Then lifted his head slightly and opened his eyes. His expression softened and now he just looked exhausted.
Several long moments went by before anyone uttered another word.
Finally, Armin's eyes timidly shifted. His normally sky blue orbs were a greenish-gold in the fire's ambient light. “...It... never gets easier... does it?” He asked softly. “...Losing people...”
Levi blinked, lowering his eyes further. His lips parted as he let out a shallow, tense exhale and his expression slightly softened. “No...” He answered. “It doesn't...”
The blonde continued to gaze at Levi. The Captain could feel his eyes searing into him, but he no longer cared.
“Captain...” He looked over at him with a gentle smile. “I hope this doesn't... sound strange, but...” The blonde said hesitantly. “If... you ever need someone to talk to... you know, I... might not always know what to say... but... um... I'm a good listener...”
Levi blinked and looked over at the blonde through the corner of his eye, then his gaze drifted back down. “...You're... too kind...” He said quietly. But he wasn't saying it so much in appreciation. He meant it literally. Perhaps he didn't feel he deserved that kind of compassion. And frankly, he thought the young man's kindness was the definition of 'to a fault'.
But perhaps it was just his nature to comfort others, the way his friends had always comforted him. To pay forward that kindness in anyway he could. To be helpful as other had helped him. Just to be...
...Useful.
“Thank you...” The Captain said lowly, this time keeping his eyes on the fire. “...Thank you for... being concerned about me...” He exhaled tiredly. “But I'll be fine.”
Armin continued to look at him, a gentle smile gracing his face as he studied his superior with soft eyes.
Feeling the stare, Levi turned to meet his gaze and found himself frozen in Armin's deep golden-green orbs. He could remember... he'd seen eyes like that before...
As Armin's lips parted, the movement finally took Levi out of his trance. But before the blonde could speak, Levi spoke up first – turning away suddenly and furrowing his brow in discomfort.
“Please...” He said as he closed his eyes, his voice getting quieter as he spoke. “...Just let me be alone...”
The blonde blinked and closed his lips, then looked away and nodded understandingly. “Okay.” He stood up and looked down at Levi a moment, “...If you change your mind...”
“Sure...” The Captain said, not returning the gaze. “Thanks.”
Armin pressed his lips together and dipped his head as he turned to bring his chair back over to where he got it, then started towards the stairs.
“Hey.” Levi called to him, causing him to stop and turn back.
“Huh?”
“...You still haven't washed your hands....”
* * * * * *
Hello darkness, my old friend,
I've come to talk with you again,
Because a vision softly creeping,
Left its seeds while I was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence
In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone,
'Neath the halo of a street lamp,
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence
And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more
People talking without speaking,
People hearing without listening,
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of silence
"Fools" said I,
"You do not know, silence like a cancer grows
Hear my words that I might teach you,
Take my arms that I might reach you"
But my words like silent raindrops fell,
And echoed
In the wells of silence
And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning,
In the words that it was forming
And the signs said,
"The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls
And whisper'd in the sounds of silence
Disturbed (Simon & Garfunkel Cover) - The Sound of Silence
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