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iamthegaysmurf · 5 years

Note

Ok 3 and 28 is so soft and already so wayhaught but I think I am going to request 24, please.

03. forehead kisses28. forehead touches or nose nudging or any soft variation on the theme24. ‘just really needed a hug’ sort of a hug13. family

@darienplays6688, I wasn’t sure if you were asking for #24 instead of #3 and #28, or if you wanted that in addition to both of them. So… I went ahead and included a little bit of those for you, too. Just in case.

———-

Okay, so… Here’s the thing. I know these were all supposed to be “Super Soft And Fluffy” prompts, but… I think my brain overloaded on all of the fluff that wrote during the last three or four of these prompt fills. If I didn’t let out some of this bottled up angst, I’m pretty sure I was going to explode.

So, like… That’s not to say that this doesn’t have some really soft moments in it (and a happy ending, of course), but there’s definitely some angsty stuff along the way, and it’s not what I would call “fluffy” by any stretch of the imagination.

I’m really sorry, guys. But I just couldn’t do it. I hope you can still find a way to enjoy this fic that you’re getting instead. : /

———-

Set just a day or two after the end of 3x07, but before it picks up with any of the events of 3x08.

Also, the scenes are not in chronological order. It starts in the present, and then alternates between flashbacks and then back to the present again. Should hopefully be pretty easy to follow, but just wanted to give you a head’s up.

———-

“Hey, Babygirl. I think you might need to come down here.”

“What’s wrong? Is it Nicole? Is she hurt?”

“No, she’s okay. She’s just, uh… really quiet and kind of spacing out. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was stoned. But this is Nicole ‘I have a lawbook shoved up my ass’ Haught we’re talking about here, so…”

“Wynonna.”

“Yeah. Anyway. I think maybe the stuff from today just kind of got to her a little.”

“Oh, god. The little girl. Was she…?”

“No! No. The kid’s fine. Haught was a goddamn superhero today. But don’t you fucking dare ever tell her I said that.”

“Where are you guys? I’m packing up now.”

“You can meet us at the Shelterlands Forest Trailhead.”

“That’s where you guys are? Fudgenuggets. No wonder Nicole is spooked. I’ll be there in like thirty minutes.”

“Half an hour?!”

“I’m at the library, Wynonna. Unless one of you has figured out how to teleport yet, then it will take me thirty minutes to get all the way out there.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do with your ginger poptart until then? I think she’s slightly burnt right now instead of lightly toasted.”

“I don’t know, Wynonna… Maybe try talking to her?”

“Come on, Waves. You know I’m fucked when it comes to all of that soft and gooey feelings bullshit.”

“That’s not entirely true.”

“Just… hurry. You gotta fix your girlfriend before I end up breaking her even worse.”

“You sure you’re okay, Waves?”

“I’m fine, Wynonna,” Waverly answers, shoving notebooks and tomes into her bag. “There’s nothing going on today. I’m just gonna do a deep-dive into some of this research. I’m tired of us always being two steps behind on everything.”

Wynonna understands the frustration. They’ve been behind the 8-ball on this thing from the very beginning, dating all the way back to Wyatt himself.

But she knows there’s more to Waverly’s mood, and it has everything to do with Mama skipping town again a couple of days ago. At least she’d left a letter this time, but that had done little to quell Waverly’s heartbreak. She doesn’t think Waverly had been completely caught off guard by the disappearance – it was less surprise, and more disappointed resignation – but that doesn’t mean she’s hurting any less.

Wynonna wishes there was more she could do to console Waverly, but to be completely honest, she still hasn’t quite recovered from the sting of it herself. And that’s not counting the fact that she’d discovered Doc’s betrayal not five minutes after reading the warning Mama had left her.

Welcome to the shitshow, population: me.

“If you’re gonna do research all day, why are you packing everything up?” Wynonna eventually asks, worried about what Waverly might really be planning. She’s not sure she has the energy, nor the mental capacity, to save her sister from some half-cocked mission she’s concocted to prove something to herself and everyone else in this godforsaken town.

“I’m just going to the library,” Waverly snaps, rolling her eyes. “Didn’t realize I needed your permission.”

“Whoa, now,” Wynonna says, dropping her feet from the table they’ve been propped up on. “Calm your tits there, girlie. I was just wondering why you aren’t going to use the BBD office since everything is already here.”

“Sorry,” Waverly sighs heavily, her shoulders sagging as she drops into the nearest chair. “It’s just… Jeremy’s doing one of his experiments and he’s gonna be back any minute and I just don’t think I have it in me today to listen to him ramble all day.” Shame causes her head to hang low, and she picks absentmindedly at one of the pockets on her bag. “Nicole’s gonna be out on patrols all day to try and get her visibility up right before the election, so I can’t even use the desk in her office, and I just… I just want to be alone with my books for a while. My mind needs some peace and quiet,” she mumbles at the end with a half-hearted shrug.

Wynonna hesitates for a minute before finally biting the bullet and reaching out to place her hand over Waverly’s on the table between them.

“Whatever you need, Babygirl,” she says quietly, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m here if you need anything.”

“I know,” Waverly says, eventually meeting Wynonna’s eye, but Wynonna can tell by the tremor in her voice that she doesn’t know. That Mama’s selfishness has proven to be a crippling setback for Waverly, erasing the year and a half of progress that Wynonna and Nicole have been making toward helping Waverly believe they’ll never leave her.

Her baby sister may as well be at the bottom of the well that Bobo recently vacated, for all the good the past couple of months have done toward her abandonment issues.

Wynonna continues to hold Waverly’s gaze for a few more seconds, saddened by the doubt she finds there. Squeezing her hand one last time, she finally leans over the table and kisses Waverly’s forehead. She could kill Mama for what she’s done to Waverly again, and she could kill Doc for being complicit in her getaway.

She grits her teeth as she pulls back and stands from her chair.

That’s a problem for another day.

“So, you said Tater Haught’s gonna be on patrol all day?” Wynonna asks as casually as she can.

“Yes…” Waverly looks Wynonna up and down. “Why…?”

Wynonna shrugs, playing with the fringe on her leather jacket.

“Thought maybe she’d like some company.”

“You are volunteering to ride around on patrol with Nicole?” Waverly hesitates,narrowing her eyes suspiciously. “What are you really up to…?”

“Nothing,” Wynonna huffs. “I’m just bored. The Revs are quiet. We have no new leads on Ball-Shart. You’re off to find your Fortress of Solitude, and that leaves me with Opti-mug Prime over there.”

And Waverly may be looking for some peace and quiet, but the last thing Wynonna wants right now is to be alone with her thoughts. There’s also that.

“You know what the Fortress of Solitude is?” Waverly asks and Wynonna immediately winces. “Wow, you really have been spending too much time with Jeremy.”

Waverly giggles, and despite Wynonna’s mortification, she’s glad to see the small spark of joy in her sister’s eyes, no matter how fleeting.

“Right?” Wynonna gasps, feigning disgust. “I’d much rather drive around with Haught Sauce and heckle the townsfolk than have to learn one more thing about a comic book character today.” She spins Peacemaker around her finger ominously, surprising even herself when she doesn’t fuck it up this time like she usually does.

“I doubt Nicole will let you get away with much heckling.” She watches Wynonna fumble with Peacemaker for a minute and then drops her hands to her hips. “Although…” she starts, her head cocking slightly. “Maybe a little ‘quality time’ would do you some good. Might even be better than the get-along-shirt I ought to make you two idiots wear after all of the trouble you caused the other day.”

Wynonna opens her mouth to launch some snarky retort, but Waverly holds a hand up to stop her and Wynonna’s mouth snaps shut on its own before she even realizes it.

“I’ve already heard every excuse under the sun from both of you. I’m not in the mood for reruns.” Wynonna grumbles and shoves Peacemaker back in her holster, but refrains from arguing. “Good. I’ll text Nicole to pick you up out front.”

With that, she finishes gathering up her things and breezes past Wynonna, pausing in the doorway only long enough to tell her to have a good time and to behave.

Wynonna stands alone in the BBD office, silently wondering when she became the child to Waverly’s mom friend instincts, but then she hears Jeremy’s cheerful chattering coming down the hall and she decides to hightail it before she gets cornered by another one of his science-fiction lectures.

Grabbing a donut from the box Waverly had left on the table earlier, she stuffs the entire thing in her mouth in one go and rushes out of the station.

Still brushing the litany of crumbs away from her shirt and jacket while standing on the front sidewalk, she doesn’t notice the cruiser pull up to the curb. When Nicole chirps the siren right behind her, Wynonna trips over her own feet, nearly doing a header right off the sidewalk and into the street.

She can hear Nicole’s laughter, even through the rolled-up windows of her patrol car. She flips Nicole off as she stumbles closer to the car, so Nicole proceeds to chirp the siren at her again.

“Fuck you, Haught!” Wynonna curses through her remaining mouthful of donut as she wrenches open the passenger door, drawing a smug sort of satisfaction from the appalled look on Nicole’s face when even more crumbs come flying out of her mouth to litter the front seat.

“Gross, Earp!” Nicole scolds, immediately scooping the crumbs into her hand and depositing them in the little trash compartment she keeps in her center console.

Wynonna completely ignores her, propping her feet up on the dash.

“Let’s roll, Haughtie.”

“Maybe try talking to her,” Wynonna mocks under her breath when Waverly ends the call.

Wynonna slips her phone back in her pocket and glances over at Nicole.

She hasn’t moved a muscle in at least five minutes, just staring blankly into the open trunk of her patrol car while the climbing harness still hangs from her hips. Wynonna may not always be the most observant person, but she’s not as oblivious as she likes to let everyone think she is. She can see the way Nicole’s entire body is trembling, the carabiners on her rigging jangling softly with the constant movement.

“Maybe try talking to her,” Wynonna mumbles again, kicking a rock and watching it skid off in the opposite direction. “What the fuck do I know about this kind of trauma,” she grumbles as she finally takes a step in Nicole’s direction.

A lot more than you might think.

Wynonna rolls her eyes at herself as she approaches Nicole.

Okay, that’s a fair point.

She hesitates briefly when Nicole doesn’t seem to notice her, then reaches out to lay a cautious hand on her shoulder. Nicole jumps and spins to face her, hand immediately falling to her sidearm, ready to draw if necessary. Wynonna stumbles back a step, eyes wide. She knew Nicole was a little zoned out, butshe wasn’t expecting that.

“Jesus, Wynonna,” Nicole croaks, trying to catch her breath. “I could have shot you.”

“You could have tried,” Wynonna returns, patting Peacemaker at her hip with a wink, opting for an off-color attempt at humor as she so often does in these situations. It doesn’t land, of course, and Nicole just continues to stare at her blankly. “Okay, okay. Geez. Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you like that.”

“Sorry,” Nicole says, her shoulders sagging a bit. “I was just… just…” She looks back into the trunk of her cruiser, then down at the climbing gear still dangling from her waist, then back up at Wynonna with a frown. “Fuck,” she sighs. “I don’t even know what I was doing. Sorry,” she mumbles again.

Wynonna wonders again how the person with the worst interpersonal skills ended up in this position.

Dolls. Dolls was always good at calming me down when I was freaking the fuck out. What would he do to help Nicole right now?

“Take a deep breath, Haughtstuff,” she tries, awkwardly patting her on the shoulder again. “Let’s start by getting you out of that harness.”

Nicole looks down at it again, but makes no move to start unbuckling it, her hands still hanging uselessly at her sides.

“That’s what she said… HA!” Wynonna holds out her hand for a high five,proud of her joke, but still gets no reaction, even after high-fiving herself.

Fuck. That was a terrible Dolls. Focus, Earp.

“Snap out of it, Haught,” Wynonna says more firmly, reaching out to place her hands on both of Nicole’s shoulders this time, looking her square in the eye. “You were a hero today.” She immediately winces. “Dammit… You weren’t supposed to hear me say that part,” she mutters, but straightens her back and raises her chin anyway. “A goddamn hero.”

Much better. Very Dolls-like.

“Now I know I must be losing it,” Nicole finally says, the corner of her mouth twitching slightly as she shakes her head.

“Ha, ha. Very funny,” Wynonna says dryly and punches Nicole in the arm, snorting when she grabs it and whines dramatically. “Seriously, though,” she continues, gesturing back at Nicole’s gear. “Finish taking that off so we can relax for a minute, Haughtpants.”

“Yeah…” Nicole turns back toward the trunk, staring into it again for a few more seconds before finally starting to unbuckle the harness. “Yeah, I should do that.”

Wynonna leans against the back bumper, watching Nicole step out of the harness and begin to pack away the rest of her climbing gear. She nods to herself, and for the briefest of moments, she could swear she sees Dolls smiling at her from over Nicole’s shoulder. But when she blinks, he’s gone again, and all that’s left is a strange whisper on the wind.

Proud of you, Earp.

“So this is what you do all day? Just drive around town and jiggle a bunch ofdoor handles?”

Nicole completely ignores Wynonna, not even taking her eyes off the road long enough to glance in her direction.

“Because I can think of some things that are a lot more fun to jiggle,” Wynonna says with a wicked smirk, leaning far enough over the console to nudge Nicole in the ribs. “We could always go and visit Pussy Willows again, like we did that one time. Maybe one of the girls could pull that rod out of your ass for you.”

Nicole’s hands tighten around the steering wheel, and Wynonna can see the muscles flexing in her jaw. She immediately wishes she could kick herself.

“Fuck. Sorry. I didn’t mean to–”

“It’s fine,” Nicole cuts her off, voice tight.

The massacre.

The massacre that had brought the Cult of Bulshar to the forefront of their investigation.

The massacre that dredged up traumatic memories Nicole had locked away for twenty years.

The massacre that, according to Waverly, had conjured nightmares that haunted Nicole nearly every night since.

That massacre.

Wynonna doesn’t even think Pussy Willows has re-opened in the two and a half months since it happened. But here she had gone and dragged it all up again, just for a cheap laugh.

God, I’m such a fuckhead sometimes. Looks like Doc’s assholery is contagious.

Doc.

There’s another subject she doesn’t want to touch with a ten-foot pole. She’s batting a thousand today, it would seem. Desperate for any change of subject she can come up with, Wynonna backtracks to the last relatively safe thing she said.

“So these door checks…” Wynonna mumbles, plucking nervously at a string that hangs from the frayed hole in the knee of her jeans. “You have to do the same ones over and over again?”

“It’s important work, Wynonna,” Nicole says defensively.

Wynonna recognizes the look on her face as the one she makes when she’s preparing herself to be made fun of. A pang of guilt stabs at Wynonna’s gut when she realizes just how often she must badmouth Nicole and the way she does her job. It’s not fair and she knows it, but sometimes she just can’t help herself. It’s like a compulsion.

“I know,” Wynonna agrees, still trying to smooth things over.

“You do?” Nicole obviously wasn’t expecting that kind of response. Wynonna glances up to find Nicole looking at her while they’re stopped at a stop sign, eyebrow raised as though she’s expecting there to be more to it than that.

“I mean… I think I know,” Wynonna falters. She frowns as she continues to pick at the string on her jeans. “Okay, actually I don’t know,” she finally admits. Nicole’s face falls, resigning herself to whatever jab is about to come next. “Butyou could explain it to me,” Wynonna continues. “Or whatever,” she adds at the end with a wave of her hand, still trying to play it cool like she always does.

Nicole is silent for a long moment, and Wynonna considers just climbing out of the car while it’s not moving and starting the long walk back to the station by herself. Surely she can’t fuck that up as much as she’s fucking this up right now.

“You’re really asking?” Nicole finally ventures, and the skepticism is etched deeply on her face, but Wynonna thinks she catches a glimpse of something else in her eyes.

“Nevermind,” Wynonna sighs, deflating a little. She’s not getting anything right today. “You don’t have t–”

“No, it’s okay.” Nicole reaches into the center console and withdraws a metalclipboard. “I don’t mind,” she says, handing it over to Wynonna before pulling away from the stop sign and turning at the intersection.

Excitement. That’s what Wynonna had seen rippling beneath Nicole’s skepticism. And maybe even a little hope.

God, she really does love this job.

“What’s this?” Wynonna asks, looking over the pages of checklists on the clipboard.

“That’s our Daily Patrol Log,” Nicole explains as she continues driving to the next location on the list. “I sat down with several of the local business owners last year when Nedley first started giving me more leeway and responsibilities. We worked out a schedule of rotating patrols for their establishments to help with the new visibility directive I was writing, and also to encourage better preventativepolicing.”

“So you really do just… drive around and jiggle their door handles every day?” Wynonna asks after staring at Nicole for a long moment with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s more than that, Wynonna.” Nicole rolls her eyes, but continues explaining, her tone much gentler now. “Increasing our visibility in these areas helps make both the owners and the customers feel safer. We do a rotating schedule during the day shifts, which mostly just consists of driving by, or checking the locks on the back doors and storage areas – jiggling the handles, as you put it – so that we don’t interrupt their normal business. People get used to seeing us around, even in the background, and that makes it less likely for a bunch of shitheads to show up and cause trouble.”

She glances over to see if Wynonna is actually paying attention or if she’s already being ignored. To her surprise, Wynonna is still watching her intently.

“And for the night shift, we check every business on every shift – so long as time allows; sometimes we’re too busy with active calls and have to just do spot checks when we can – but we still try to do them in different orders so that no one can pinpoint exactly when we’ll be there.” They pull into the back parking lot of the Crown Surplus, and Nicole shifts in her seat to face Wynonna. “The night checks are a little more involved. We get out and walk the perimeter. Check all of the doors and windows. Make sure the alarms are engaged. Clear out any jackholes that are drinking on the premises. Things like that.”

“And this…” Wynonna gestures first at the clipboard in her hand, and then out the window at the building they’re parked behind. “It actually works?”

“Some. It’s just…” She tilts her head to the side and Wynonna watches as she searches for the right words. “I mean, Purgatory is a dangerous place, evenwhen these people want to bury their heads in the sand about what’s going on. And if I… If I can get them to trust us, even just a little bit more than they used to, then at least they’re more likely to come to us – to me – if some weird shit starts happening. You know? Like if they have someone that they think might actually believe them instead of just telling them they’re crazy…”

Nicole sighs and turns to stare out the window, the sudden silence in the car covering them like a thick blanket until it’s almost smothering.

“I don’t know,” she finally says, still looking out the window. “Maybe it’s stupid. Just wishful thinking on my part.”

“It’s not,” Wynonna says immediately, reaching out to lay a hand on Nicole’s forearm. She turns back to look at Wynonna, clearly surprised by the gesture. “It’s not stupid.”

“It’s not?” Nicole doesn’t sound convinced.

“No. It’s important,” Wynonna says quietly, squeezing Nicole’s arm gently. “What you’re doing for these people. Whether they recognize it or not.”

It’s in that moment that Wynonna realizes she’s talking about herself, too, and clears her throat uncomfortably as she jerks her hand back away from Nicole’s arm.

“You came up with all of this on your own?” she asks, settling back into her seat and plucking at the string on her jeans again. She smirks to herself when she sees Nicole’s face immediately begin to flush.

Some things never change.

“Yeah, I uh…” Nicole mumbles, rubbing at the back of her neck. “I guess I did. I ran it all by Nedley after I’d written it up, before I met with the business owners. But, umm…” She gives a dismissive half-shrug. “I guess I just wanted to help any way I could.”

Wynonna doesn’t say anything, but she does give a slight nod that causes Nicole to duck her head shyly. They sit in an awkward silence for a long moment before Wynonna hands the clipboard back to Nicole.

“So I guess we gotta g–”

“Haught,” Ruthie’s voice interrupts as the radio crackles to life between them. “Got Ranger Jett on the line for you. Sounds urgent.”

“10-4, Ruthie,” Nicole answers after grabbing the console mic. “Go ahead and patch him through.”

“10-4”

There’s a short beep followed by a series of clicks before a new voice comes through, slightly staticky from the relayed connection.

“Hello? Sheriff Haught?”

“Hey, Robin. Not officially the Sheriff yet,” Nicole says with a slight grin, “but what’s up?”

“It’s a little girl, Sheriff,” he continues, ignoring Nicole’s playful comment. “She’smissing.”

“I can’t, Wynonna. I’m still on shift.”

“Technically, your shift ended two hours ago.” Nicole eyes her carefully, and Wynonna shrugs. “Just sayin’.” She gives the silver flask a jiggle where she’s still holding it out between them.

She had done her best to channel Dolls earlier when she’d needed to snap Nicole out of her stupor. But recognizing the haunted look in her eyes now, Wynonna decides it’s time for some good old-fashioned Earp tactics.

Whiskey.

It’s never let her down before.

Okay, maybe it has… but who’s counting? That’s not important at the moment. What’s important is that Nicole is warring with a darkness right now, and sometimes you just need a little fire in your belly to hold it at bay for a little whilelonger.

Or at least until Waverly can get here and fix things the right way.

She watches the gears turn in Nicole’s head, like she’s weighing a heavy decision, and is more than a little surprised when Nicole reaches out to take the flask from her. She raises an eyebrow, but Nicole levels a look at her that practically dares her to say something about it when she raises the flask to her lips and downs several large gulps without so much as flinching.

“Well, alright then.” Wynonna takes the flask when Nicole hands it back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. It’s more than half empty. Wynonna gives Nicole an impressed look, raising the flask in a mock toast. “Cheers, Haughtshot,” she says before downing the rest of it.

No way she’s gonna let an Earp be outdone when it comes to drinking. Especially not by Five-O. Though, to be completely fair, Wynonna has always been impressed with Nicole’s constitution. It takes a lot to get her drunk, and even then, she still continues to hold her own. She’s proven that over and over again.

Drinking whiskey that night at the station a year and a half ago, back when times were simpler. Nicole had matched her swig for swig, but the minute they’d gotten sucked into an actual case down in the morgue, she’d sobered up instantly. That’s not easy to do, and Wynonna knows it.

Just a handful of months later, covering for Wynonna while staking out Jonas by drinking for both of them just to keep the baby safe. She’d definitely gotten drunker that time around, but no so much so that she couldn’t still shoot out a fuse box from across the room with a .380 Walther PPK she’d pulled out of her sock, and that’s saying something, given their long history of questionable accuracy.

And just a couple of days ago in that Revenant bar. Nicole had been drunk off her ass by the end of that disaster, but even though she would never admit it out loud, Wynonna knows that Nicole is the one that technically won that drinking contest fair and square. The Revenant had lost when he’d hurled everything back up. And Wynonna… Well, Wynonna had been cheating the entire time. And that leaves Nicole. Who matched Wynonna and the Rev drink for drink, kept all of it down, and then, even though she was unsteady on her feet, she still managed to help Wynonna kick some ass in the woods.

If there’s one thing Wynonna can respect, it’s the ability to hold your liquor. And Nicole keeps proving over and over that she can match pace with an Earp. So that’s pretty solid in Wynonna’s book.

She looks back at Nicole, whose cheeks are now flushed from the healthy dose of whiskey. Tucking the empty flask back into the inside pocket of her leather jacket, she climbs up onto the trunk of Nicole’s cruiser. Nicole starts to balk, but Wynonna ignores her, patting the space beside her.

“C’mon, Haught. We got a little time before your unicorn gets here. Take a load off.”

“Waverly’s coming?” That’s the first sign of hope she’s seen in Nicole since they originally got the call from Robin.

“She’s already on her way.”

Nicole lets out a weary sigh, but climbs up next to Wynonna without protest, leaning back on her hands as her feet find purchase on the bumper. She looks up at the moon, already visible in the dimming twilight, and Wynonna can see the deep worry lines etched across her brow and at her mouth. For a fleeting moment, she looks far older than her twenty-seven years would suggest.

Wynonna knows a little bit about that. She’s twenty-eight now, but sometimes she feels like she’s already been dragged through a hundred lifetimes full of griefand guilt and loss.

“Hey, it’s okay to relax for a minute.” She reaches over and pats Nicole’s knee. “Today was a win, Nicole.”

She’s quiet for a long moment, before whispering something so softly that Wynonna can barely make it out over the rustling leaves in the nearby trees.

“Sometimes it’s hard to tell in this town.”

Ain’t that the goddamn truth.

“We’ve been out here for hours, Nicole. Maybe we sho–”

“We’re not giving up, Wynonna!”

Nicole stomps off through the trees, and Wynonna lets her go.

It’s suspicious that another kid has already gone missing in the woods again, especially so soon after what they went through with the missing kids on Christmas just barely a week ago. She and Charlie had tracked them down andwiped out one of Bulshar’s evil beekeeper hives, rescuing Robin and severalothers in the process. Surely he hasn’t already rebuilt and started over again…

No, something about this one feels different, she thinks as she watches Nicole search for tracks in the underbrush up ahead, weighed down by far more than just the pack full of gear slung over her shoulders. Her phone buzzes in her pocket before she has time to think any more about that.

Angelpants: Are you still with Nicole? She’s not answering her phone.

Bacon Donut: we’re on a call

Angelpants: Everything okay?

Bacon Donut: little girl missing in the woods

Angelpants: Bulshar???

Bacon Donut: nah peacemaker isn’t giving me any tingly feelings in my pants

Angelpants: WYNONNA

Bacon Donut: i think she just got lost

Bacon Donut: mom lost track of her by the playground whilechasing after toddler

Angelpants: Is Nicole okay?

Bacon Donut: she’s in full sheriff mode right now

Angelpants: You guys need anything?

Bacon Donut: the whole cavalry is out here

Bacon Donut: i think we’re good

Bacon Donut: you just work on that research babygirl

Angelpants: Okay… But keep me posted?

Bacon Donut: 10-4

Angelpants: You really have been spending a lot of time with Nicole lately. lol

Bacon Donut: shut it shortstack

Angelpants: Be careful, okay?

Bacon Donut: you got it boss

Wynonna slides her phone back in her pocket and does her best to catch up to Nicole again. Nicole continues to ignore her, and Wynonna approaches cautiously.

“Hey…” She hesitates when Nicole freezes in place, but doesn’t turn around. “Charlie has the entire fire department out here, and Robin called in all of the other Park Rangers. I wasn’t suggesting that everyone give up, Haught. I was just wondering if we shouldn’t leave it to the Search & Rescue boys, since that’s what they do.”

“I’m Search & Rescue, Wynonna!” Nicole snaps as she finally spins to face Wynonna. She points at one of the patches on the pack she’s carrying. “I got certified in it at the Academy, because I never wanted another little girl to be stuck in the woods by herself with no one to come looking for her.”

Oh.

Wynonna suddenly understands everything.

That explains a lot.

She opens her mouth to say something – anything – but it seems her brain has forgotten how to string two words together right now.

“It’s going to be dark soon, Wynonna,” Nicole continues, much quieter this time. Her eyes are hollow and she’s white as a ghost. Even paler than usual. “It’s going to be dark, and she’ll be out here all alone, cold and scared, and… and…” Nicole swallows hard around the lump that Wynonna can hear is stuck inher throat. “What if it had been Waverly?” she pleads, desperate for Wynonna to stay out here with her.

“Okay,” Wynonna says, finally finding her words again. She reaches out and catches the trembling hand that Nicole’s been waving around. “Okay, Nicole. We’ll keep looking for her.”

They hear the muffled calls of the other groups echoing through the forest as they continue their search. Nicole was right: the sun is beginning to set, and the beautiful colors painted across the sky bring a sharper chill in the air with them. They’re running out of time.

Wynonna suddenly feels an odd weightless sensation, and then her stomach is in her throat as she starts to tumble forward. Before she connects with anything, though, she’s being yanked backward by her collar, until she’s lying on her back,staring up at the trees.

One red-headed tree in particular.

“You’ve gotta watch where you’re going, Earp,” Nicole says sternly, hands on her hips as she looks down at Wynonna. “I don’t have time to be saving your ass,too.”

“Thanks, Haught,” Wynonna manages to croak. “I didn’t even se–”

“Shhhhh…” Nicole whispers harshly. “Did you hear that?”

Wynonna frowns, straining her ears in the eerie silence of the forest around them. Just as she’s about to accuse Nicole of losing her mind, she hears it, too. It’s faint, almost as though they’d imagined it, but it’s there.

“Hello…? Is somebody there?”

Nicole trembles slightly as she pulls Wynonna up from the ground.

“This is the Sheriff’s Department!” she yells, loudly enough to make Wynonna wince. “Call out if you can hear me!”

They both wait, staring at each other with wide eyes.

“HELP! WE’RE DOWN HERE! HELP, PLEASE!”

“We?” they mouth in unison, still frozen in place for half a second longer.

“Don’t move! We’re on our way!” Nicole finally yells back as she turns and sprints in the direction of the voice, along the edge of the ridge that Wynonna had nearly tumbled over.

Wynonna does her best to keep up with Nicole in the waning light, struggling to stay upright in the wake of the sure-footed Sheriff. It’s painfully obvious that Nicole is far more comfortable in this terrain than Wynonna will ever be.

They finally begin to slow their approach when they start to hear barking mixed in with the small voice. That must be the ‘we’ the little girl was referring to.

“We’re almost there, Ashley!” Nicole calls out again as she begins looking around the new area. “Can you tell me where you are?”

“I fell,” the little girl cries in response. “I can’t move my leg!” Her answer is accompanied by another round of barks and frantic whines. “And Hugo’sdown here, too,” she adds.

Nicole drops to her belly in the dirt and the leaves and creeps closer to the stony ledge. Wynonna crouches and carefully peers over Nicole’s shoulder to find asheer rock face, wrought with stray branches and roots and moss-covered rockssticking out at odd angles. Wynonna knows from experience now just how easy it would be to miss a step if you weren’t looking and suddenly find yourself twenty feet below with nowhere to go.

There, in a muddy patch of snow and leaves tucked away in the shadows below the ledge, they can see a puffy pink coat with a matching set of snow boots – one leg sticking out at an odd angle – and a large dog wrapped around a shivering body.

“Hi, Ashley. I’m Officer Nicole.”

“Hi, Nicole,” Ashley answers weakly.

“Don’t move,” Nicole says again, gentler this time. “I’m coming down to get you, okay?”

“Okay,” the little girl sniffles. “Hurry. I’m sca– I mean, I think Hugo is scared.”

“Don’t be scared, Hugo,” Nicole says, nodding seriously at the dog. “Everything’s gonna be okay now.”

Hugo barks once – a muted sort of woof – and Ashley clutches a little tighter at his fur.

“He says he’ll try to be brave.”

“That’s very good, Ashley.” Nicole pushes up onto her hands and knees. “You and Hugo just need to be brave a little longer while I get my rope ready, and then I’ll be down to get you, okay?”

“Okay…”

“You can talk to my friend Wynonna here while I’m working.” Nicole nudges Wynonna a little closer to the edge, despite the what the fuck look she levels in Nicole’s direction. “Just talk to her, Wynonna,” Nicole says so that only Wynonna can hear her. “So she knows we’re still here and she’s not alone anymore.”

“Uh… hi,” Wynonna says awkwardly, sticking her head over the ledge and waving. She turns to see Nicole unpacking her gear, ratcheting one end of her rope to a nearby tree that looks sturdy enough to serve as an anchor. “I’m Wynonna…”

“Duh,” Ashley says, giggling a little in spite of herself. “Officer Nicole already said that.”

“Officer Nicole says a lot of things,” Wynonna grumbles loudly, sticking her tongue out dramatically at Nicole behind her back. Ashley giggles again, and Hugo thumps his tail against the leaves. “My little sister would love that pink coat of yours,” Wynonna adds after a moment, unsure of what else to say.

“You have a little sister?”

“Uh huh. Her name is Waverly.”

“Walervy?”

“Eh… Close enough, kid,” Wynonna snorts. “She loves pink stuff and rainbows and unicorns.”

“I have a unicorn!” There’s less sniffling in Ashley’s voice now, replaced by excitement instead.

“So does my sister!” Wynonna laughs, especially when hearing Nicole groan behind her.

“His name is Sparkle!”

“His name… is Sparkle…” Wynonna can barely contain herself. “That’s–”

“Wynonna,” Nicole hisses quietly. “Be nice.”

“–a great name!” Wynonna finishes.

“What did your sister name her unicorn?” Ashley calls up again after a moment.

“Officer Nicole,” Wynonna giggles, and then yelps when Nicole kicks her right in the ass with her muddy boot.

“What?” Ashley asks, confused.

“Ummm... I said Tootsie Roll!” Wynonna calls back a little louder this time, still trying to stifle a giggle.

“Like the candy?”

“Yep,” Wynonna answers, popping the p loudly. “Just like that.”

“That’s kinda weird…” Ashley says, thinking about it for a moment. “But I like it!”

“Yeah, that’s kind of what I thought, too,” Wynonna says, glancing back over her shoulder and catching the hint of a smile on Nicole’s face, just barely hidden behind the curtain of her hair.

“Okay, Ashley,” Nicole says, stepping back up to the ledge. “I’m coming down to get you now. All I need you to do is just stay still, okay? Don’t try to move until Iget there.”

“Okay,” Ashley answers, sounding nervous again.

“You need to hang on to this for me,” Nicole tells Wynonna, handing her a portion of the rope after making sure it’s secured through her climbing harness. “Getting down there shouldn’t be too difficult, but I’ll need your help when I’m climbing back up with her.”

“What?” Wynonna balks, trying to back away. “I don’t know anything about this shit. What if I fuck it up?” She can’t handle this kind of responsibility right now.

“Wynonna, focus,” Nicole says sharply, grabbing her by the shoulder. “Look.” She points over to the tree. “I’m rigged up to a pulley system. All I need you to do is keep this part tight. When I create slack from climbing, just keep pulling it tight, okay? It will keep me from falling backward if I lose my footing with her inmy arms.”

Wynonna doesn’t understand how any of this climbing shit works, but she thinks she can manage at least that much.

“Okay,” she finally says, still a little unsure. “Hey, wait…” she adds when Nicole starts to back up toward the ledge. “Do you have our coordinates or whatever? I was just gonna shoot of a quick text to Charlie with our location so he can send some of the EMS boys this way.”

Nicole pulls out her phone and frowns at the missed calls and texts from Waverly.

“It’s okay,” Wynonna says quickly when she sees Nicole’s face. “I texted her a while ago to let her know we were on a call.”

“Thanks…” Nicole says softly. “I didn’t mean to ignore her. I just…”

“Had a lot on your mind?”

“Yeah,” Nicole answers sheepishly, and then clears her throat a couple of times. “Here’s the coordinates,” she says, handing Wynonna her phone with the GPS app open.

“Okay, got it,” Wynonna says after typing a few things into a text message. “Now go and save the day, Sheriff,” she says, warmly and with no hint of sarcasm, as she hands Nicole’s phone back to her.

Nicole rappels down the rock face with ease, and Wynonna watches as she pulls out the emergency med kit from her pack and places a cervical collar around Ashley’s neck to stabilize her c-spine. It’s not ideal to be moving someone like this without a full backboard, but sometimes the circumstances of these search and rescue situations don’t always provide the best conditions. At least she’d been sitting up the entire time she’d been talking to them. That has to count for something. Hopefully.

After placing a makeshift splint on Ashley’s leg, Nicole begins to prepare her for transport. She carefully works another harness up over Ashley’s legs and hips, and then secures it to her own with another short section of rope and somecarabiners. Then she slips Ashley’s hands through a set of loops that almost look like handcuffs made of rope, explaining that they will help her hold on to Nicole while she’s climbing back up.

Ducking her head to put it through Ashley’s arms so they’re around her neck, Nicole scoops her up and holds her close as she moves back to the rocks and slowly begins her ascent. Wynonna is diligent in keeping the slack out of the rope, digging her heels into the soft earth to help her hold her ground. It’s much slower going, and they’re nearly out of light now, but soon enough, Nicole’s head pops up over the ledge and Wynonna kneels down to take Ashley from her and get her back on solid ground.

“Can you tell us what happened, Ashley?” Nicole asks as she takes off her jacket and drapes it around Ashley’s shoulders. Wynonna is immediately reminded of the photo she’d recently seen of a young Nicole wearing Nedley’s coat on the morning he’d found her downstream from the massacre.

“We were playing in the park with Mama and Matthew,” Ashley starts, sniffling again. “Matthew kept tryin’a run away, and Mama had to chase after him. But then Hugo saw a squirrel and tried to catch it and we just kept runnin’ and then we were in the woods and there were so many trees and we got lost and then I fell and… and…” Anything else she wanted to say gets lost in the heaving sob that wracks her entire body.

“Shhh… It’s okay,” Nicole soothes, wrapping her arms around the little girl. She tucks her face securely into Nicole’s shoulder, and Nicole strokes her hair gently. “It’s okay. You’re safe now. You’re safe.”

“What about Hugo,” Ashley eventually hiccups, once she’s caught her breath again. “You can’t just leave him down there!”

Wynonna and Nicole peer over the ledge, watching Hugo prance and pace along the edge of the rock face, whining and searching for his human.

“Okay,” Nicole says after a brief moment of deliberation. “You stay here with Wynonna, and I’ll go and get Hugo.”

“How in the fu– …the f–” Wynonna’s eyes slide over toward Ashley. “The eff are you gonna do that?”

“Ummm…” Nicole thinks for a moment, looking at everything that’s spread out in front of her. “I think I have an idea.” She dumps everything out of her pack, until it’s completely empty, and holds it up. She eyes it for a minute, and then shrugs at Wynonna. “Hopefully this will work…”

“Oh, my god,” Wynonna groans, resting her head in her hand. She knows exactly what Nicole is going to do.

Nicole slings the empty pack back over her shoulders and starts toward the ledge again, but pauses when Ashley reaches out and takes her face in her little hands.

“Officer Nicole,” she says very seriously. “You have to be very careful with him. Mama says he’s an old man now.”

“I’ll be very careful with him,” Nicole answers, her voice cracking a little. “I promise.”

Wynonna definitely doesn’t have a lump in her throat. Nope. Absolutely not.

They begin the process all over again, and Nicole sits with Hugo for a few minutes at the bottom so that he’ll calm down and hopefully trust her enough for what needs to happen next. After a bit of coaxing and a couple of false starts, she finally manages to get the aging German shepherd into her giant backpack, with just his head sticking out so that he can watch over her shoulder. He doesn’t seem particularly pleased about this development, but he lets her secure the zipper and lock it in place so he can’t fall out on the way back up. It will have to do.

She hoists the pack back up onto her shoulders and starts climbing the wall again, Wynonna dutifully working her end of the rope. It doesn’t take quite as long as it did when Nicole was bringing Ashley up since she has the use of both arms, but Wynonna can tell she’s feeling pretty exhausted by the time she reaches the top.

Thankfully, Charlie and the boys have arrived by then, already tending to Ashley while Nicole frees Hugo from his port-a-puppy status. He barks a few times and then runs in an impressive amount of circles before finally jumping up on the back of the ATV and settling in next to Ashley, refusing to leave her side again.

They all set out back toward the trailhead where Ashley’s family is waiting for them, leaving Wynonna and Nicole standing alone in the silence of the dusk-covered woods.

“That was some Haught shit back there, Officer Nicole,” Wynonna says after a few minutes. She pats Nicole on the back when she gets no response.

Nicole says nothing, merely swaying on her feet until she has to reach out and lean against one of the nearby trees for support.

Then she promptly doubles over and vomits all over her boots.

“Okay, even I didn’t see that coming…” Wynonna says, unsure of how to react.

Nicole still doesn’t say anything, heaving three more times before she’s apparently emptied her entire stomach out into the muddy snow. When she finally stands back up, Wynonna takes her by the elbow and starts leading her back the way they came.

“Alright, Red. Let’s get you back to the land of the living.”

“Maybe try talking to her.”

Waverly’s voice is still bouncing around in Wynonna’s head as she watches Nicole stare out into the darkness, shivering slightly despite having her jacket back after Charlie had replaced it with a proper blanket. She reaches out and places a hand on Nicole’s knee.

“I shouldn’t have called you ‘Deputy Dipshit’ the other day.” Nicole immediately stiffens beside Wynonna. That definitely touched a nerve. She curses herself and starts to change the subject, but she sees Waverly glaring at her with her arms crossed, telling her to talk to her about it, so instead, she pushes on. “I was only fucking with you,” she hastens to justify, “but I still shouldn’t have gonethere. It was a shitty thing to say, and you didn’t deserve it.”

“Maybe I did,” Nicole sighs, visibly deflating. “Seems like everyone has that opinion these days.”

“I don’t,” Wynonna says immediately. “Nedley doesn’t.”

“Right,” Nicole scoffs. “You drag my ass about my job every chance you get. And Bunny Loblaw…” Nicole swallows had and looks away again.

“Bunny Nut Cheerios can choke on her pearls, for all I care,” Wynonna seethes. “And me…” Wynonna starts, a little more sheepishly. “Well, since when do you listen to a word I say, anyway?”

Nicole just raises an eyebrow at her.

“Okay, look. You know I don’t have the best track record with cops. Even Nedley, from before I came back. But you’re…” Wynonna waves her hand around awkwardly. “…Different.”

“Different,” Nicole repeats in a deadpan voice.

“Yes. Different, okay?” Wynonna kicks her foot on the bumper of the cruiser while she tries to figure out what to say next. “Like. Even before you kneweverything, you still tried to look out for me and my sister. And then you took a bullet for her. And you believe me when I tell you something’s important, even if I can’t always explain it right then. And… and you didn’t just automatically assume I was crazy and needed to be locked up again.”

That last part comes out much quieter than the rest of it. Nicole turns to fully face Wynonna and opens her mouth to respond, but Wynonna holds up a hand to stop her.

“I’m not very good at this shit, but I’m trying to say something important here. Let me get it out.” Nicole just nods silently, and Wynonna continues. “And then my sister fell for you, and that scared me. Because I thought you were just going to take her away from me. But you didn’t, and you stayed, and she stayed, and… You tell me you love her, and then you told me you love me, too, and… and…” Wynonna sighs and buries her head in her hands. “Look, I’m just sayin’,” she says, popping her head back up again. “I know we made up and called a truce the other night back at the station, but I still shouldn’t have said that. You didn’t deserve it, okay?”

“Okay…”

There’s a lot to unpack there, but Nicole is apparently willing to just let it go for now. Thankfully.

“What if I can’t do this, Wynonna?” Nicole asks instead after a few moments of silence. “What if I’m not cut out to be the Sheriff?”

“No way,” Wynonna snorts. “That’s not possible.” Nicole shrugs a little helplessly at her. “Listen, Haughtdog. Nedley has been talking about you non-stop since you started working for him a year and a half ago. That man believes in you more than he believes in Willie Nelson. And I told him a month ago – before any of this other shit started happening – that you were ready to take his place whenever he was ready to let you. That you had the kind of fight in you that this town needs right now.”

“You… you did?” Nicole seems genuinely surprised by this.

“I did,” Wynonna nods. “And I know for a fact that you heard every word I said to ol’ Bun Bun after we finished saving her ass. Naughty Haughty and your eavesdropping.” Wynonna gives an approving waggle of her eyebrows and Nicole shoves her playfully in the shoulder. “But the truth is, Nicole… You’re the best goddamn cop this town has ever seen. Nedley is a good man, and he’s done the best he can with trying to balance the protection and the cover-up for the past thirty years. But you’re… Well, like I said. You’re different. You’ve got your eyes wide open going into this, and you’re everything this godforsaken town needs right now.”

Nicole stares down at her hands, suddenly very interested in the stitching on her gloves.

“I mean, look at how much of a difference you’ve already made just with something as simple as your handle-jiggling thingy. The people trust you. They’re glad to see you coming, and that’s important in a town like this.”

“Maybe so…” Nicole glances back up at Wynonna. “Thanks, Earp.”

“For what?” Wynonna asks pointedly. “If you ever tell a living soul I said any ofthat, I’ll deny it to my grave.”

Nicole snorts and shakes her head.

“Fair enough.”

“Now, uh…” Wynonna wipes the palms of her hands nervously on her jeans. Her head is screaming at her to just leave it at that, counting this conversation as a win. But her heart remembers the way Nicole had looked in the woods, and how haunted she’d been when they’d gotten back to the parking lot of theTrailhead. She feels Waverly coaxing her to continue. “Do you, uh… want to talk about what’s really bothering you?”

Nicole instantly shrinks back into herself, looking back up at the darkened sky. Wynonna could kick herself for being such a bull in the china closet, but she’s really trying here. That’s got to count for something.

“How much do you remember from that night?” she asks tentatively.

“Not a lot,” Nicole mumbles. “Just flashes. That asshole in black leather. Screams. Blood. Floating in the canoe. Freezing so badly I thought I was turning to ice.”

“That… sounds like a lot to me,” Wynonna says. “And the little girl today?”

“I knew how scared she would be. Alone. In the dark. In these woods…” A tear trickles down Nicole’s cheek. “It put me right back there again.” She wipes discreetly at her face, and Wynonna chooses not to say anything about it.

“Waverly said you’ve been having nightmares about it?”

“She told you about that?” Nicole tries to sound mad, but Wynonna recognizes the truth in her voice: embarrassment and shame.

“She tells me a lot of things,” Wynonna says gently. “Do you… want to talk about them?”

“What would you know about it?” Nicole huffs angrily, instantly starting to throw up a wall between them. Wynonna isn’t having any of it. Not this time.

“About what, Nicole?” She cuts in firmly. “About something so traumatic from your childhood that it still haunts you twenty years later? About darkness and death that twists you up so badly you end up in the loony bin for it? About closing your eyes and seeing every person that’s ever died because you failed them etched across your eyelids until you can’t tell what’s real in the moment and what’s only a memory in a dream?”

Nicole stares at Wynonna, wide-eyed and mouth gaping open. Wynonna just sits patiently, waiting for Nicole to process everything she just said.

It takes a minute.

“S-sorry…” Nicole eventually stutters. “I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t… I… S-sorry…”

“You don’t need to apologize, Nicole.” Wynonna reaches out and takes one of Nicole’s hands. “I was just trying to point out that maybe I get it a little more than you might think. If you ever… you know…” She lets go of Nicole’s hand and waves it awkwardly in the air. “…Needed someone. To talk to, I mean.”

“Waverly’s so good. She’s always there for me through the nightmares.” Nicole sighs, looking back down at her hands. “But sometimes I feel like I’mdrowning in it. Like I’m going to drown both of us, and I can’t even see what it is that’s dragging me under.” She wipes at her face again, more openly this time.

“Yeah, I get that,” Wynonna admits. “Why do you think I left for so long?”

“I’m not going to leave her, Wynonna!” Nicole says sharply, sitting up straight again with her brow furrowed.

“I know,” Wynonna defends, throwing her hands up between them. “I know. That’s not what I meant. It’s… I just… You’re a lot stronger than me, Haught. I was too weak. I had to leave because I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t handle it myself, and I sure as fuck couldn’t hand dragging Waverly down with me.”

“Am I?” Nicole asks quietly.

“Are you what?” Wynonna frowns, confused.

“Dragging her down? Would she be better off without my baggage?” Wynonna doesn’t think she’s ever seen Nicole look so broken before.

“No,” she says firmly. “God, no. You’re the one that’s given that girl wings,Nicole.”

“I don’t know about that,” Nicole sniffles, smiling slightly despite herself. “Seems like this Julian dude probably had more to do with that than me.”

Wynonna can’t help but snort.

“Can’t believe Mama bagged herself a fucking angel.” She barks out a laugh, but then her tone turns darker. “You deserve your angel far more than she ever did.”

This time it’s Nicole that reaches out and takes Wynonna’s hand.

“Hey.” She squeezes gently until Wynonna meets her eye. “We’ll figure this out together, okay? All of us.”

Wynonna searches Nicole’s eyes and finds nothing but genuine compassion there. She wants to say something – feels like she should – but she can’t seem to find the right words, so she just nods her acknowledgement.

Then, as if someone else is controlling her body, she reaches out and wraps her arms around Nicole, pulling her in close. Nicole feels stiff at first, like she’s notsure what’s happening, but then she relaxes into the embrace, reaching aroundto close her own arms around Wynonna’s shoulders.

They stay like that for several long moments, losing track of the number of heartbeats, before Wynonna pulls back again, looking a little flustered with herself.

“What, uh… What was that for?” Nicole asks through a lopsided smile.

Wynonna shrugs as casually as she can manage.

“You just looked like you really needed a hug.”

Just then, a pair of headlights comes sweeping into the parking lot, eventually coming to rest on the trunk of Nicole’s squad car, lighting both of them up in the sudden brightness. The engine cuts out and they’re left with visions of a red jeep swimming behind the sunspots now floating in their eyes.

“Speak of the devil…” Wynonna says, wiping the salty tracks from her own face now. “Or angel, I suppose,” she adds, nudging Nicole in her ribs with her elbow.

They both share a laugh as they hop down from the trunk, wiping their hands on their pants and feeling all of the joints in their body crack as they stretch out their weary limbs. Waverly approaches them slowly, eyebrow raised.

“Am I interrupting something?” she asks, her tone suspicious.

“Nope,” Wynonna hurries to say. “Not a thing, Babygirl. We’ve just been waiting on you.”

Waverly eyes Nicole, who just nods along innocently.

“Riiiight…”

Before she can say anymore, Nicole has closed the distance between them, sweeping Waverly into her arms. She kisses her deeply, far more than just a quick peck on the lips, before finally pulling back to nuzzle their noses together and eventually letting her forehead rest against Waverly’s.

Wynonna would normally clear her throat or make gagging noises or harass them in some other way, but instead, this time she quietly watches. Really watches.

Watches the way Nicole seems to draw strength from the simple fact that Waverly is near. Watches the way Waverly clutches at Nicole’s jacket, keeping her close and present in the moment and steady. Watches them whisper softly to each other and the way Nicole’s body instinctively relaxes at Waverly’s touch. Watches the way they both seem to be trying to protect each other at the same time.

She’d meant it before when she admitted to Nicole that she was scared when Waverly fell in love with her. Scared that Nicole would take her away. That Waverly would leave her. But as she watches them now, she doesn’t feel scared anymore. They were made for each other. They deserve each other. And there’s no way she can be jealous of that. She couldn’t ask for anyone betterto be taking care of her baby sister, and for all of the blustery sarcasm shethrows Nicole’s way, she’s also glad that she has someone like Waverly to takecare of her, too.

There’s been a lot of reevaluating lately. About what family truly means. Is it just about blood? Are they destined to be bound to those who are related to them simply because they share some common DNA? All Wynonna’s blood brings is a curse of failure and leaving and death. Generations of Earps had fallen to forces outside their control. Daddy and Willa had betrayed their family. Mama had bailed… twice. Is that really what Wynonna wants her family to be?

And what about the family you choose for yourself? She’s not doing much better in that department, either. She had to kill Shorty with her own two hands. Dollsleft her to all of this alone, even though it wasn’t the same way Mama had left. And Doc… Doc had chosen to betray her, to become the very thing they hunted, all because he couldn’t deal with a little manpain.

She has Alice, and will always love her. But god knows when the next time she’ll get to see her will be. If she ever gets to see her again at all. Just another piece of family that’s been ripped away from her.

Maybe some things just aren’t in the cards for the heir to a curse that she never asked for.

But then she looks over at Waverly and Nicole again. Remembers Waverly telling her that she loves her. Remembers Nicole telling her that she kind of loves her, too. Remembers Nicole telling her ‘I got you, Earp,’ and actually meaning it. Remembers Waverly telling her ‘I’m here for you, now and forever,’ and staying with her even though she could have run so many times.

Something clenches in Wynonna’s chest, and she nearly forgets how to breathe. She does have a family. And it’s right here in front of her. Just the three of them against the world. Her sister, and… her sister’s girlfriend? Her… Nicole? Her… best friend. The words feel foreign in her mind. She’s never had a best friend before. Not really. But she looks back over everything she and Nicole have been through, and she thinks maybe… maybe this is what that is supposed to feel like.

Besides. Something tells her that at some point, she’ll eventually have to start calling Nicole her sister, too.

She doesn’t think that would be such a bad thing.

“You okay?” she hears Waverly asking, and she realizes that both Waverly and Nicole staring at her with raised eyebrows.

Fuck. Get your shit together, Earp.

“Uh, yeah…” She clears her throat a couple of times and gives her patented thumbs up. “All good. You guys ready to get out of here?” she asks, hoping to distract them.

“Please,” Nicole answers wearily.

“Grab your bag and toss me your keys, Babygirl. I’ll drive your Jeep home so you can ride with Haughtstuff.”

“You sure?” Waverly asks, her eyes lighting up.

“Of course. Go take care of your girl,” she says, walking over to kiss the side of Waverly’s head as she takes the keys out of her hand.

“Nicole said she’s starving. We were gonna stop by Mama Lou’s.” Waverly’s voice is muffled as she digs through the cab of the Jeep for her bag and her purse. “You wanna join us before you head home?” she asks when her head pops back out again.

Wynonna glances over at Nicole, not wanting to intrude on their time together, but Nicole nods at her with a warm smile.

“Sounds good,” she admits. “I could murder a stack of pancakes.”

“We’ll follow you there,” Nicole says as she watches Waverly settle into the passenger seat of her squad car.

Wynonna nods and turns to climb into the Jeep, but stops when she feels a hand on her arm.

“Wynonna…” Nicole’s mouth opens and closes a couple of times like a fish out of water as she tries to find the words to say. “Thanks,” she finally settles on. “I, uh… I don’t think I could have made it through today without you.”

Wynonna smiles genuinely, no trace of sarcasm or teasing. Then she shrugs like it’s the easiest thing in the world to say.

“You’re family, Nicole.”

#prompt fill #my fiction #wayhaught #wynaught brotp #wynonna earp #ask and answer #darienplays6688 #anon #writer asks #writing #mine

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mobius-prime · 4 years

Text

134. Sonic the Hedgehog #75

I Am the Eggman!

Writer: Karl Bollers Pencils: Steven Butler Colors: Frank Gagliardo

We have a very important question to address here at the beginning of this story. Apparently, all this time, it wasn't Robotnik who was activating the satellites and tormenting the Freedom Fighters in secret. If that's the case… who was it, then?

So! Do you remember, aaalllllll the way back during StH#19, when I said that that issue would introduce a very important character, someone who would shape the course of the entire comic? Didja forget about that? 'Cause I sure didn't! Here he is, ladies, gents, and enbies - Robo-Robotnik, AKA the alternate, roboticized version of Robotnik from another zone! Don't worry if you don't remember - he gives us a nice rundown of exactly how this all came to be, just for those of us who may have forgotten him between then and now. But first, just to make sure no one escapes or attacks before his villainous monologue is over, he encases the Freedom Fighters inside an egg-shaped energy field, which knocks Bunnie out when she tries to punch her way out.

So here's how it went down. Way back when Robo-Robotnik was taken back to his own zone after his interdimensional defeat, his consciousness was stranded aboard a space station in orbit of his own version of Mobius. Then, as chronicled in StH#22, Robotnik Prime ended up aboard the same station when he was thrown out of his own dimension, and gave Robo-Robotnik just the pep talk he needed to get back to hunting down his enemies and taking over the world. However, what we didn't know until now is that at the moment Robo-Robotnik sent Robotnik Prime back to his own world, he tapped into his memories, learning of the scattering of the Giant Borg suit's pieces across all dimensions. Yep, that makes him the mastermind behind the Crossover Chaos plot as well!

I just have to stop everything for a moment to go over what Robo-Robotnik said up there again. He straight up nuked Mobotropolis and killed everyone within. If you'll remember in StH#22, the Sonic and Sally of his zone had already grown up, gotten married and had two kids at this point. Their world followed basically the same general path laid out in the Sonic in Your Face! special - everyone had grown up, the world was idyllic, Robotnik was thought to be long defeated, new families had been born and peace reigned. They had absolutely no idea that they weren't safe. That one day, without warning, a goddamn nuke would drop onto their beautiful city, killing everyone within. Sonic, Sally, their two kids, and everyone else they ever knew - dead. Vaporized. That is ridiculously dark.

So, as we can see, this version of Robotnik is even more terrifyingly evil than the previous one. And apparently, his whole extended gambit with the satellites and random disasters was implemented not just to test the capabilities of this world's Sonic and friends, but also, to finally lure them out of the city for the culmination of his plan…

Okay, Nate, why the hell didn't you use your badass laser-eyeglasses to fight back against the thugs who captured you before? He and Amy rush to the palace, where Geoffrey is informing King Max about the resurgence of the swatbots. The king has the cryo-tube containing the queen carried out of the palace to safety, and orders that everyone within Mobotropolis be evacuated to Knothole. However, before they can get much further, Robo-Robotnik contacts them from a screen in the med-lab, mocking the king and informing him of his daughter's current captivity aboard his space station. The king immediately takes a knee and offers himself in exchange for the safety of everyone on the station, which is quite a notable gesture considering how traumatized his stay in the Zone of Silence had left him, but Robo-Robotnik simply laughs at him as at that moment more swatbots - or shadow-bots, as he calls them - burst into the room demanding their surrender for roboticization.

The more we see of Elias, the more I like him. Back up in the station, Sonic insists that they have to get free to help the Robians, but Robo-Robotnik only mocks him some more, and brings forward none other than Uncle Chuck, Muttski, and Sonic's mom and dad to enrage him further. Sonic begins flinging himself against the energy field trapping them, which only injures him every time he does it, despite Sally begging him to stop.

Within the city, Geoffrey and the other members of the Secret Service focus on rescuing civilians from the shadow-bots' attack. Valdez stays behind to cover their retreat as they rescue Rosie and the children she's looking after, and despite Geoffrey trying to go back for him, Hershey insists that "the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few or the one," drawing a pretty bizarre parallel between her and Mr. Spock. Up in the station, the energy field trapping the Freedom Fighters suddenly disappears, and they turn around in shock to see who released them…

Snively insists that he needs them to be able to escape this station, and Sally agrees to bring him along. She uses Nicole to order their space shuttle to dock with the station (seems weird that that wasn't their plan from the beginning, rather than exiting the shuttle and entering the station through a damn trash chute) before setting an explosive charge to blow the place in five minutes. Sonic pulls out a power ring that Nate gave him before they left the planet's surface, saying he's going to go find his family before they leave. Sally tries to insist he shouldn't go, since Snively already mentioned Robo-Robotnik was loading the Robians onto a transport back to Mobius, but Sonic heads out anyway. Come on Sally, you should realize at this point that once Sonic has his mind made up about something he wants to do, literally nothing, not even you, can change his mind. He speeds through the corridors, soon finding Robo-Robotnik loading the last of the Robians onto the shuttle, including his family. The door shuts, and Sonic attacks Robo-Robotnik, thinking that at least his family will be safe when this place explodes. However, as Robo-Robotnik pins him to the ground, a pair of voices startle them out of their fight.

Noteworthy for being the third panel in which Sonic visibly cries, which if you'll remember is something that Sega put strict limits on in the comic later on. Been a while since we've seen that, and it's the first time it hasn't happened in a somewhat silly scenario. He races back to the shuttle with his parents in tow, and they make their escape just before the place blows. Sonic asks how his parents maintained their free will, and they explain that they were in Knothole just hours ago when every Robian suddenly turned and began to mindlessly file out of the place. Their wedding bands made out of power rings began to glow, protecting them from being affected by Robo-Robotnik's bug, but they followed anyway, playing along as though they were also being controlled and hoping to find out where everyone was going. As they fly back to the planet, safe for this brief moment, dusk falls over Mobo- uh, I mean, I guess we have to start calling it Robotropolis again. And underneath the city…

I really can’t express how funny this page is to me. I mean, can you imagine if Robo-Robotnik transferred his consciousness into the one in the middle, and was just going around looking like a gay 80's biker dude for the rest of the comic? Regardless, this is actually a good way for the comic to justify redesigning Robotnik into his more modern Eggman style. He laughs to himself that an explosion won't be enough to do him in, especially now that he has this new body… and as a somewhat jarring conclusion to this story, Sonic and the others smile and pose happily on the final page as though nothing devastating has happened, promising to us that if we liked these last 75 issues then the next 75 will be even more exciting. I suppose this is actually somewhat noteworthy however, as from here on moving into the fourth era of the comic, the inclusion of specials and sister series abruptly taper off, leaving us with just the issues of the main comic for quite a while. Unlike the third era we're leaving behind, where over half the content came from issues of KtE and Super Specials, the fourth era consists almost entirely of the main comic. But for now, I suppose we must say goodbye to this era of peace, as now that Eggman has risen from the ashes, the world is back to being embroiled in war…

#nala reads archie sonic preboot #archie sonic #archie sonic preboot #sonic the hedgehog #sth 75 #writer: karl bollers #pencils: steven butler #colors: frank gagliardo

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bettercallsabs · 5 years

Text

The Groom To Be 2

A/N: 12/23. 2:32am. Due to starting a new job and all that jazz I’ve had very little time to write, but as my schedule solidifies, I will be posting regularly, so bear with me yet again. Anywho, I am so happy to be finally posting part 2. I hope you all enjoy! And thank you to each and everyone one of you that takes the time to read my works. I appreciate you more than you know! Taglist is open, so never miss a post.

Series Masterlist//Thee Masterlist

Engaged!Steve Rogers x WeddingPlanner!Reader plus sized reader-

Warnings: Adult language, Self-esteem issues.

Word Count: 3k+

STEVE ROGERS POV

Wedding planning was exhausting. Steve could believe people actually enjoyed this. He’s much rather have been kicking back with Bucky, and ice cold beer watching sports. But instead, here he was stuck planning large wedding, he didn’t even want whilst his fiancée was has way across the world. Steve always imagined a small, simplistic wedding, close family and friends, something rustic and homey. But Larissa wanted big, Big, BIG!

Steve flopped into the overstuffed leather sofa of his Brooklyn loft. After a long day of venue touring, his brain was fried.

“Beers are here!” Sam’s voice echoed off the exposed brick of the loft. His hands were full with four cases of beer. Bucky trailed behind him, carrying two large boxes of pizza.

“You look awful man.” Sam tossed Steve a bottle, laughing as he took a seat in the match oversized chair.

“I feel awful. I never thought I’d wish for something to go wrong, just so I could get out of wedding planning.”

“That bad?” Bucky chimed in carrying over a box of pizza with a roll of paper towels.

“Yes! All we talk about is colors, and table settings. Flower arrangements this, wedding photos that. It’s beyond annoying. If Y/N was such a nice young woman, I’d have run off by now.”

“Nice you say?” Sam’s looked at Steve with quizzical eyes, one brow arching higher than the other.

“Yes Sam, she’s very sweet. You’d like her.”

“Oh I would now?”

“Yes, Bucky too. She really is delightful. We went to lunch today, and she’s actually quite comical.”

Bucky and Sam exchanged a look of deviation spreading across their faces in the form of wicked grins.

“Steve, buddy ole pal. Do you have the hots for your wedding planner?”

Steve’s face grew 10 different shades of red, as he swatted at his friends.

“No! Of course not. I just... you two suck. You know that?”

Both of his friends burst out into thunderous laughter. Bucky patted Steve’s shoulder, giving it a stern squeeze, Steve, shrugging him off.

“Anyways, I love Larissa. I mean, I could probably set one of you up with her, although, she doesn’t seem like the dating type.” At least, Steve hoped she wasn’t the dating type. . .

Steve felt a slight tightening in his chest as he spoke. He moved awkwardly in the lazy boy, taking a long swig of his beer, as his friends joked around.

“Hey Cap, why so quiet bud?”

Sam looked at Steve with mischievous eyes- he was always up to no good. Steve rolled his eyes, refusing to feed into to Sam’s agenda, taking another long swig from the bottle. He suddenly wasn’t in the mood for beer and pizza. He needed to let off some steam.

“I think I’m just going to go for a run. Yeah, a run sounds good.”

Steve lurched himself from his seat, hustling to his room to change into better fitting clothing. Something he could move freely in without feeling like he was being suffocated. Steve ripped off his button down shirt, tearing it as he forgot his own strength for a moment.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Steve thought to himself as he paused, his naked flesh exposed as he slumped over the sink, his hands clutching to the edge of the counter. These feelings were irrational, and Steve was anything but irrational… well, most of the time. Slipping into a pair of sweats and a form fitting blue tee that hugged his chest, exposing the definition of his toned pecks and perfectly built biceps and triceps, slipping a snuggly fit grey sweatshirt over top.

After his tennis shoes were tied, Steve made his way for the door, his two best friends trailing close behind.

“Steve, where are going?” Bucky stopped him, resting a bionic arm on his shoulder.

“I just need to clear my head. I’ll be back later, make yourselves at home, you always do anyway.”

Steve took off without another word. The cool air licked at his face as he took off running into the evening dusk. Thoughts of Y/N consumed his mind. That smile was infectious and sweet. She was shy, but outgoing, one of those women who didn’t know how beautiful they actually were. She was everything Larissa wasn’t. Sure, Larissa was kind, genuine and strikingly beautiful- some say she’s every man’s dream- but there was something Y/N had that Larissa didn’t. Steve wasn’t quite sure what it was, but he knew it was something significant.

He was drawn to Y/N, but he knew he shouldn’t be. He was getting married, and she is the wedding planner. . .

Steve pushed harder, his legs pumping faster as he quickened his pace from a brisk jog, into an all out sprint. Until his thoughts were of nothing but remembering how to breathe. He didn’t want to think about her anymore… he couldn’t.

———

The following weeks were painstakingly slow. Steve just wished Larissa would come back already. He didn’t know how much longer he could do this, keep up the facade. He had feelings for Y/N, that much he knew, but why was she so intoxicating? Just being in the same room as her made his head spin, and over the last couple of weeks things had only gotten worse. Steve found himself in a constant cycle of thought, always thinking of Y/N. He rarely thought of Larissa anymore, and it made him feel immense guilt and he didn’t think he could take much more of it.

Steve sat across from Y/N, his arm draped over the plush loveseat as he listened to her speak in what seemed like foreign tongues.

“So, Larissa sent me a message, and she would like you and your super boy posy - her words by the way- to pick out tuxedos. She specifically requested cumberbunds, but will settle for a low cut vest style. No bare. Shirts should have French cuffs and French front shirt. Pants should-“

Steve threw his hands up in defeat. “Listen Y/N, I know you mean well, and you’re just doing your job, but for the love of goodness, I have no idea what you are talking about. I’m honestly not even sure if you’re speaking English to me right now. I know Larissa is nitpickie, but. . . Wow.”

Y/N looked at Steve with her calming eyes, that laugh that he adored so much slipping from her lips as she burst into laughter.

“ I should have known fashion isn’t your forte.” Her smile widened as she continued to laugh. Y/N moved from her seat, grabbing the iPad that sat on the edge of her desk, before tasking s test next to Steve on the love seat, her leg brushing against Steve’s knee.

Steve felt his heart leap in his chest. He felt nervous, clearing his throat as he awkwardly repositioned himself. He rubbed his sweating hands down his pants as he cleared his throat- trying to rid himself of the unreasonable nervousness.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was so close.” Her voice was laced with panic and embarrassment as she scooted away, creating a large gap between herself and Steve.

Steve could see in her mesmerizing eyes, that she was suddenly self-conscious, and her whole demeanor seemed to change.

“It’s not big deal, it happens. Don’t worry about it. “ Steve reached out, resting his hand on her forearm, trying his best to reassure Y/N, but thee damage was already done and Steve felt a wave of remorse. Her never should have moved. He liked the way her leg felt against his. He liked feeling close to her.

“I um, wold you excuse me a moment?” Before he even had a chance to reply, she was off the couch and rushing out of the office.

God dammit.

Steve grabbed his phone that was tucked away in his pocket, sending a text to a group chat of his closest friends.

Steve: I think I just made my wedding planner cry.

Sam: Cap… What did you do?

Bucky: You….. Made a woman cry? How’d you manage that one?

Nat: Steve….

Steve: I didn’t do anything really… she just sat down a little close than I think she meant too… she was laughing after all…

Bucky: what does that even mean?

Sam: So like, did she touch you or…

Steve: kind of yeah. But it was unintentional. And I panicked. I have no idea why I panicked.

Nat: You hurt her feelings Steve…

Bucky: Wait, I thought you liked her though? I’m confused now…

Steve: I do like her, I don’t know what came over me.

Sam: Man, I knew you had the hits for her. You sly dog, you.

Steve. NO SAM! NOT LIKE THAT!

Nat: why are you yelling Steve?

Steve: You all are no help.

Bucky: That’s what were here for, no help. We fight with force, not feelings. What did you expect?

Steve: Obviously I wasn’t thinking when I sent the text. You all are useless. TTYL.

Steve tucked his phone back into his pocket, resting his elbows on top of his knees-his head hung as he massaged at his temple. What was it about this woman that drove him to the point of such irrational behavior?

Reader POV

When your leg brushed against his, you prayed he wouldn’t notice. You hoped that you could play it off as if it didn’t happen, but Steve’s reaction sent the hopes and dreams blowing into the wind. HE seemed top flinch at your touch, moving as quickly as he could to create a distance between the two of you. The expression on his face, looked to be a face of horror and discontent.

No…

You couldn’t think straight, as your emotions took over you. Before you even knew what you were thinking, you were on your feet, darting for the bathroom…

Your heart leapt in your chest as you hovered over the sink- your hands clutching the sink so hard, they ached. You felt your stomach beginning to churn, you felt as though you might just hurl. How could you have been so stupid? God. They way he moved away from you… Your heart dropped into your stomach, tears welling in your eyes. Of course he’d never go for someone like you, he was completely out of your league. He is Steve Rogers, Captain America- and he was marry Larissa fucking Levingston for fuck sakes. You were his wedding planner, period.

“Get out of fantasy land Y/N, and do your job.” You scowled at yourself in the mirror, wiping the running mascara from your under eye and cheek. Taking in a deep breath, you recomposed yourself, You were a professional and you needed to be professional. With another deep breath, you sucked back in the emotions you had let run loose.

Not today Y/N, not today.

You displayed your best fake smile- quite genuine looking- as you entered back into your office.

“Sorry about that. I think I might be catching a bug. Now where were we?” You snatched up the iPad you had tossed onto the coffee table when you fled to the bathroom. You tested yourself back on the loveseat, but made sure there was a persons length between the two of you. You would not make the same mistake twice.

“Are you sure you’re okay? If you’re not feeling well, I wouldn’t want to keep you.”

Of course. You were sure he wanted nothing more but then to get away from you, but you had a job to do. You had to make sure Larissa’s requests were met. And the tuxedos were high on her list. You had to get them perfect, and everyone knows, that customer tuxedos take time, so this needed to get done today, now, no matter how much your self esteem was suffering, you had to do this.

“No, no I’m fine. This is important. Larissa wants custom Tux’s and those take time, so were going to have to pick out some styles today, and get fittings scheduled for you and your party. So let’s get started.” You wanted do get this over with as soon as possible. Your cuddle duds, crappy Lifetime movies, and Chineseese food, were calling your name.

“Alright. Walk me through it then.

After a long day at work, and an outburst of untamed emotions, you were happy to be home. You set the bags of groceries onto the kitchen counter, sighing in relief as you freed your poor aching feet from the new heels you had decided to wear that day-rookie mistake, you should have definitely worn them in first. You grabbed a Large wine glass form the cupboard, realising the cork from the bottle of wine as you proud yourself a generous glass. Taking a sip, you felt the glorious red liquid warming your body. Oh how you loved wine.

Glass on hand, you climbed the short flight of stairs to your bedroom. You couldn’t get out of your work clothes quick enough. You didn’t even bother picking up your clothes from the floor- you knew you would regret it later, but at the moment, after the day you had experienced, you couldn’t care less- you made your way into the bathroom, clearing the days worn makeup from your face.

Fresh faced and in your favorite pair of cuddle duds, you strutted down into the kitchen to prepare yourself some supper. Freshly chopped chicken sautéed on the stove, as you sliced some spring onion and ginger, adding them into the sizzling chicken, the mouthwatering scent wafting up in the steady streams of steam. You flipped on the TV, turning the channel straight to lifetime. Crappy acting, predictable plot, and of course a criminal act, was all the joy of watching Lifetime movies. Even though they surely weren’t winning any film awards anytime soon, they somehow managed to keep your attention.

Just as you were spooning out your Teriyaki chicken into a serving bowl, your buzzer rang. You weren’t expecting any company… Walking to the door, you held the intercom button.

“Who is it?”

“Hey Y/N, its Steve, Steve Rogers. Can we talk?”

What the hell was Steve Rogers doing at your home? How the hell did he even know where you lived? And what could he possibly want to talk about at 9:32pm. You stood there for one too many seconds, his voice speaking through the intercom.

“Hello? Are you still there?”

“Uh yeah, I’ll buzz you up.”

Hesitantly, you hit the buzzer, unlocking in the door, and letting Steve Rogers into your building. And it hit you. You were in your jimjams, no makeup, hair a mess… Jesus fucking christ. A flood of panic rushed over you as you bobbed up and down like a lunatic.

Fuck fuck fuck.

The knock at the door nearly sent you over the edge. You couldn’t possibly let him see you like this… but what choice I you have?

-another knock at the door.-

Fuck.

Hesitantly , you made your way for the door, unlocking the deadbolt, slowly opening the door so only half of your face was visible. Steve stood in the hall, a fading smile gracing his face- he looked nervous, his sparkling blue eyes avoided yours as he looked at the ground, before meeting your gaze.

“I… Could I possibly come in? I’m truly sorry for the intrusion, I just wanted to talk with you.”

Nodding, you opened the door wide enough for him to step through -You were going to regret this later… Hell, you regretted it now.- You closed the door behind him, holding your arms snuggly against your body. Your embarrassment level at an all time high.

“Wow, it smells amazing in here.”

“Oh thanks. I just whipped up some quick supper, I was actually just about to eat-“

“Im so sorry. Gosh, this was so rude of me to show up unannounced. I should leave.”

A part of you wished he would leave, but…

“It’s alright Steve. No harm done. Actually, I made well more than I can eat alone… Would you like to join me?”

Steve’s eyes seems to light up as you asked him to stay. It made your heart sputter.

“I couldn’t impose-“

“No, I insist, poles stay. DO you like teriyaki chicken?”

He nodded, a glint of a smile creeping in the corner of his mouth. “I cant remember the last time I had a home cooked meal.”

You directed him to the quant square table that sat in your eat in kitchen, gesturing for him to have a seat. You finished spooning the chicken into the bowl, setting it onto the table with a side of rice, grabbing dinnerware from the cabinet.

“Would you like anything drink? I’m afraid I don’t have much of a selection. Lets see here..” You peered into your fridge, nothing but beer and water. “I have some wine, or theres a bottle of Guinness , if you’d prefer that or water.”

“I’ll take that Guinness if you don’t mind.”

You grabbed the bottle from the fridge, using the bottle opener magnet that hung on the fridge to crack it open. You took your seat across the table from Steve, feeling more aware of the situation you were in then you would have liked.

“Please, help yourself.” Your voice began to crack as you pushed the food closer to his general direction. Steve hesitated a moment, before sipping a heaping pile of rice and chicken onto his plate. Good thing you had made enough to feed a family of five, because the man could eat.

“Oh my, this is amazing! You made this?”

Steve smiled that oh so charming grin that made you melt, as he took another bite.You nodded, smiling back at him as you dished yourself a plate.

“So, what brings you by?” You asked between bites. You desperately wanted to know what brought this hunk of a man to your home. Was it about the tuxedos? His friends probably weren’t on board with it, and he was probably here to find away out of them…

“I wanted to apologizes. About early today.”

You nearly choked on your chicken. He came all the way out here to apologize? But for what exactly?

“Apologize? For what?

“My behavior earlier, you know. . . “ You could feel the heat rising to your face, a wave of nausea sweeping over you as he spoke. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or embarrassed. I, I don’t know what came over me. I don’t know what it is, but, you…” Steve shook his head, his thumb and index finger rubbing at his eyes, before staring at you with those intoxicating blue eyes.

“I don’t understand.” The words spilled form your mouth, barely audible.

Steve was no longer sitting but standing in to the side of you. You looked up at him, completely puzzled by the predicament you seemed to be in.

“I have to go. I’m sorry.”

Steve hustled for the door, swinging it behind him as he left, with a slight bang. You were speechless, utterly confused. And you were 100% unsure on how to process what had just issued.

“What the actual…”

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lupienne · 6 years

Text

Days of his Wives (15)

Negan X Wives (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14)

Chapter 15: I’ll Cut You a Deal (In which revenge is best served bloody)

A/N: Ok, with this snippet, it’s getting close to Issue #100 (Glenn’s death). Since my story is a bit AU, I stretch the time out between events. Amber’s been a wife for about a year.

In comic canon, a Hilltop delivery to the Saviors supposedly ‘goes bad’, resulting in Hilltop deaths and a woman named Crystal being captured by the Saviors. Another man involved in the delivery, Ethan, stabs Gregory saying it’s the only way to ‘save Crystal’ from the Saviors. In my version of the story, Ethan and his group may not be as innocent as they seem.

Other notes: despite never being harmed by Negan and the girls insisting he never would, Amber has always been slightly nervous around him. She’s a bundle of nerves by default. This snippet starts off with Amber heading to the Sanctuary storeroom to retrieve wax for a candle-making class she and Sherry run for Sanctuary’s children)

Warnings: (non-graphic in a sense) violence, torture, mutilation aka ‘don’t fuck with Negan’s people.’ Bad,bad Negan. Apologies if read-more isn’t working!

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

It'd be nice, if I had... a badge or something. To show I'm Negan's wife. Amber’s mouth twisted glumly. His property.

Everyone knew not to mess with Negan's stuff. She only hoped she was recognizable enough to traverse Sanctuary unscathed.

Her flats scuffed the floors, echoing in the long hallways of the factory's basement level. She stopped often, her breath sucked in, her ears open and alert. Swinging her oil lantern around her. Her circle of light was both protection and a hazard. She could see...but they could see her first...

There's no Walkers down here... there just aren't...

But there might be men, there might be hungry men who would see her as a devil-send, someone they could carry out all their lust and violence on, undeterred here in these dark corridors.

A small whimper escaped her...she shivered and walked onward.

Spiders, rats...there must be.

An unwanted memory surfaced – Mark's hand clenched around a large, squealing rat, beating it to death on a concrete wall. She remembered her tears at the sounds it made, her stomach clenching in both hunger and nausea as they cooked it over a weak fire. They had to choke down the half-raw meat.

She saw a hand-painted sign that read 'Storerooms This Way'; the same one Sherry had told her about. She turned left at the hallway's end, following another sign. Up ahead, the darkness was slowly lightening – someone must be down here. Soft wings brushed the interior of her stomach – her butterflies warned caution. She heeded them – turned her lantern off, stepped lightly.

Another turn, the light brighter still. She peered around the corner. The hallway dead-ended in a cul-de-sac of doors. Three doors closed, one half opened, spilling light. From within it, she heard someone cough, the sound of something sliding across the floor.

She had just slid her foot around the corner, when a barrage of shrieks and swears came from behind the closed middle door. The voice was female. Her heart neglected a beat and she clenched her hand over her mouth, melting back into the shadows. Rapid footsteps shuffled. She dared a peek. A man was opening the middle door, entering it. Something about his build made her nerves jump – and when he spoke inside...

"Ma'am, please... this isn't doing any good."

She knew the voice.

Mark.

"It's pissing you off, that's enough for me, you fucking asshole!" The unseen female was seething, each word bitten off viciously.

"I'm not pissed..." Mark's voice was soft, but the dead-end hallway, the concrete walls and floor...they carried the sound straight to her ears. "I'm just trying to help you."

The woman made a spitting noise. "Yeah, trying to 'help' as you help yourselves to our stuff that you stole from us!"

"It isn't like you guys aren't prosperous," Mark protested, "You have more than enough..."

"Is that what your High and Mighty Negan says? That's what helps you delusional idiots sleep at night, huh?" She laughed and it had the edge of hysteria. "When are you going to summon the All Mighty to come see me, anyway? Or are you just gonna kill me?"

There was a long sigh. "He's coming soon. Look...you can't be like this. You need to cooperate, don't make him angrier... he's already angry... but cooperate and he might let you live."

"Fuck you, Savior, fuck your stupid leader." A sound, vulgar and thick, the clear sound of spit being expelled. Mark let out a small cry of disgust.

"Fine..." His voice was hard, but he'd never been able to sound too menacing... he just wasn't like that. His heart was flowers and feathers, too bright and sweet for this world. She heard his feet shuffle; Amber moved her face to the very edge of the wall, keeping perfectly still.

He came out, closed the door and twisted a deadbolt. Blond head bowed, one hand wiping his face. He didn't look up, making his way to the room with the half-opened door. Her heart thudded over another beat, and she felt a rush of shivers down towards the junction of her legs, a tingle in her breasts. She heard the sound of something, a box maybe, sliding across the floor again.

She slid into the hallway, standing indecisively. Her sudden arousal frightened her... stop it, you can't think about him like that...

She shouldn't even be near him.

But...

I have to get the wax, right? And Negan's not around... no one is. It'll be fine...if I just... talk to him.

So, she approached the door with her heart banging hard against her ribs. Her butterflies flew, but it seemed a joyous flight when she looked in, when she saw him. He had cardboard boxes and milk crates in a half-circle around him. Things from the Hilltop's last drop, she assumed, seeing canned and boxed food. A whole crate of lettuce heads and carrots. A box brimming with health care items, shampoos and soaps. He appeared to be organizing the things, cataloging them into a large notebook. The room was filled with shelves already stocked with Sanctuary's goods.

"Hey..." she said.

He jumped, head whipping up. Blue eyes wide, his blond hair tousling across his forehead. His mouth dropped.

"A-A-Amber?" He set down a can of peas, stood up abruptly. "What...what are you doing here...?"

Her feet propelled her forward without thought, she was on him in an instant. Her arms locked around him, her breasts to his chest, but no... that was too much. She stepped back, cheeks flushed.

He drew in a breath. "Wow. Uh... hi." He smiled, and they both laughed.

She gnawed her lip as the silence fell back in, awkward and strange. "Well," she cleared her throat. "I came down looking for candle-wax." She looked around the room. "Um...is this stuff from the Hilltop?"

"Yeah. I'm usually the one who organizes it," he said. "Not a bad gig."

More awkwardness. "Who's that lady?" Amber asked, finally. "In that room?"

"From the Hilltop. It's uh...not good, Amber." Mark rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "They attacked us on this drop. Her and the group bringing the stuff...they put Walkers in the van behind the supplies. So our guys would get attacked when they opened the door and started taking stuff out."

"Oh shit." Amber grimaced. Negan was going to be pissed. She could already hear the profanity-laced rants coming from him; she just hoped he calmed down by the time he turned in for the night. Her stomach flopped as Mark voiced her sudden thought.

"Amber, look...I'm uh...happy to see you." He didn't sound happy, "But...he's coming down to talk to her. Negan. If he sees us together... You need to go. You have to go."

The redness drained from her cheeks. The imagery was too horrible if Negan were to see them. His imagination going off the rails, imagining her and Mark screwing in the storeroom behind his back, making a fool out of him... A hard shudder went through her.

He'd kill me...he'd fucking kill me.

"Ok.." she said. "Um... I'll go." She didn't move though, her eyes traveling his face. She'd forgotten how cute he was. That overgrown white-blond hair, the freckles on his nose. Luminous blue eyes, wide and meek, so unlike her husband's predatory gaze.

She touched his cheek with her fingers, then with her lips... no...she couldn't be doing this, but she was... she was pressing her mouth to his. He moaned and his tongue jostled hers.

She pulled back, gasping from the pain in her heart. Too much. Stupid idea.

"I should thank you for what you did," Mark said, low-voiced. "For your...sacrifice. But...I just can't."

"I know." She wiped the sudden tears from her cheek. "It's ok." He looked healthy and fit again. He had the color back in his skin. "Just seeing you alive...it makes it worth it."

He didn't say anything. He took her hand, looked at it, turned it gently. "Are you happy, Amber? Does he... hurt you...?"

She skipped pointedly over his first question; it was no use to answer. To ask for happiness in this hell of a world was greedy... to merely survive was a blessing enough.

I'm living the good life... compared to... compared to how it could be. How dare I ask for happiness on top of it...?

She had to shut those wishes down quick. She pulled her hand back, balled it at her side. Had to erase his touch, all the hazy, blissful memories that went with it. She shook her head. "He's not a saint, but he doesn't hurt us. I'm ok, Mark, really. I hope you are too." She hesitated. "And...if you find someone or already have, please...be with them, ok?"

He sighed. "Yeah. Sure, Amber." He looked back at the mess on the floor. "I should get back to work, and you really gotta go."

She nodded, not trusting her voice. Tears were crowding her throat and eyes. She blinked them away, feeling the air hit her wet eyelashes in a shock of cold. She had just left the room when the echoing hallways brought noises.

Footsteps. An English accent. The Savior, Connor. "You want to talk to the bitch first?"

And then, his voice.

"Yeah. I think so."

Oh shit. Oh shit! She scrambled back into the room. Mark was already rushing to a closet, throwing the door open. It was filled to the brim with blankets and he ushered her towards it. "Quick," he hissed. "Get in...be quiet...don't move..."

She did, and he shut the door in her face. Literally. She was nearly pressed up against it and the shelves dug into her back and buttocks. Her breath huffed in and out, loud, too loud. She locked her muscles down, only jumping slightly when Negan's voice filled the room she'd just occupied.

"At least tell me we got some good shit out of this. Please tell me we got some good shit. Huh, Mark?"

"There's...there's some good shit in here. Sir." Mark's voice was trembling, and Amber scowled.

Get it under control, Mark! Damn it!

If there was one thing Negan wasn't oblivious to, it was fear. He could suss it out as surely as a shark could smell blood in the water.

"Fucking hell...seven fucking men dead." Something was kicked over – it sounded like one of the boxes of canned goods from the horrible racket it made - and Mark gasped. "Oh, but we got some goddamn canned peas! Fucking fantastic."

"There's some meds in here," Mark tried to soothe his leader. "Prescription stuff. They must've gone into the city to get it."

"Yeah? Any fucking weed?"

"Um yeah. I think so." There was the sound of rustling.

"Hand it over." Negan gave a displeased grunt. "Meh. Nova will be happy, anyway. Still...this is fucking it?"

Connor's accented voice rang out. "Wankers had to have room to hide away the fuckin' Biters, eh? They put just enough shite in the back of the van to hide them."

"So fucking clever..." Negan's voice was dark with sarcasm. "And these fuckheads really think they'll get away with this? What are they hoping to accomplish, aside from getting themselves killed?" He snorted. "But Gregory hasn't proven himself to be particularly motherfuckin' smart. Still...I didn't think he was suicidal."

Mark's voice still had a clear tremor. "...you're going to attack the Hilltop, sir?"

"No. That would be stupid. But I've obviously been too fucking soft on them..." There was a slight pause. "Are you feeling all right, Mark? You seem flustered."

"It's just the woman," Mark said quickly. "She was yelling threats and things. When I went in to tell her to shut up, she spit on me."

"Ugh...thanks for the warning. I hate it when they do that...it's so fucking disgusting."

"Sir," said Connor, sounding impatient. "Can we go now? I want a crack at this fuckin' cunt-"

"Yeah. All right."

Amber's breath let out in a slow, quiet stream of air. She could smell the coffee she'd drank earlier.

But Negan hadn't moved. She didn't hear his feet clomping away, instead, he was quiet. She heard someone inhale. Her heart started to pound again – a quiet Negan was not a good sign. It meant he was thinking. She heard footsteps now, starting to pace the room, coming close to her closet. Every muscle went rigid. The breathing was louder now, another long inhale.

"Man," said her husband's voice, frighteningly close by, "I just noticed. It smells motherfucking good in here. Do you smell that, Connor?"

"Yeah, I smell somethin'," said Connor, increasingly impatient. "Flowers or some shite...but boss-"

"Yeah! That's it. Smells like..." Another sniff. "Fucking lilacs or something. Right?"

"Like I know what a fucking lilac smells like."

Amber's teeth were out, dug into the meat of her palm. Hard, wincing from the pain, but hoping it would deter the panic rising in her throat. Her butterflies were on crack, flying in mad circles. On her skin, she could smell it – the lilac lotion she'd slathered on this morning. She could feel Negan's arms around her – this morning too – when he'd embraced her from behind and kissed her neck, and then left for the day with her scent lingering in his senses...

He knows, he fucking knows I'm here, oh shit... Tears were welling in her eyes. She was locked up so hard that her muscles ached. She debated opening the door, spilling to her knees before him, begging him to forgive her, to believe her when she pleaded: Nothing happened, I didn't fuck him, I love you – don't kill me.

"Oh, you know what?" A laugh edged his voice, and his footsteps moved back towards the center of the room, where Mark was. "I'm probably just smelling myself." Another laugh, one of those dark ones, the kind Amber hated – the cruelty evident. "I got real close and personal with Amber and her sweet-smelling skin this morning. Like, skin-on-fucking skin, if you know what I'm saying."

"Nice, boss," said Connor, and Amber could almost hear him rolling his eyes.

"You could practically suffocate between those fucking titties of hers, and I couldn't imagine a better way to go," said Negan dreamily. "Her titties are fucking amaaazing. Shit, they're almost more than my big ole hands can hold."

Connor gave a quiet chuckle, but there was no sound from Mark. Amber's cheeks weren't pale anymore. She could feel the blood burning red.

Shut up, you damn kiss-and-tell, don't tell them this shit! Especially Mark... She bit deeper into her flesh.

But Negan didn't shut up – did he ever? Her anger was rising, eclipsing her fear. Now she wanted to burst out of the closet, but only so she could plant her foot straight into his balls.

He gave a snorty, derisive laugh. "She's not a bad lay, but she's atrocious at giving head." He paused for a second, then amended. "I'll give her credit though. She has gotten better."

She could taste blood now, anger spiking through like a solar flare. Oh, you just wait till your next 'atrocious' blowjob, hubby. I'm gonna suffer an unfortunate seizure. One that involves a lot of involuntary convulsions and teeth-grinding. The thought of him screaming and sobbing in agony made her feel better – but only slightly.

Mark still said nothing. What the fuck was he supposed to say?

She could practically hear him grin, as Negan laid the contriteness on thick. "Shit. What am I doing, Mark? Laying my problems on you? I'm fucking sorry about that. You don't have to deal with that shit anymore, do you?"

"Uh..." Mark gave a nervous laugh. "No, sir."

The anger-eclipse was fading, and the fear was shining its dark light once again. Negan's voice was so sweet...he liked to wrap his darkest threats in sugar and spice. This was it, his fun was over, and he was going to throw the closet open and punish them both-

"Sir, can we fuck off now – think about the boys. What that bitch did to them-"

"Ugh, yes," Negan growled, "Christ, Connor, don't get your fucking panties in a wad. We're going."

She felt weak, leaning her forehead against the door as Negan and Connor's footsteps exited the room.

In a moment, she heard Mark's voice whispering. "Amber, I'm opening the door. Sssh."

She stepped out, stretching her stiff muscles. Mark motioned her to stay, and he crossed to the door, peeping out.

She heard Connor. "Yeah, Mark?"

"Oh. Just wondering if you needed help."

"Nope. We got it, mate."

"Um. All right."

Mark ducked his head back into the room, shook it at Amber. He crept up to her, whispered in her ear. "Connor's standing right at the door where she is – he'll see you if you try to leave. Just get back in the closet. Until they go."

She nodded, and returned to her hiding spot, closing the door most of the way. She leaned back against the shelving, letting her head settle onto one of the soft blankets. She stood quiet, and listened – she could hear clear into the next room with the woman, she could hear almost everything.

She heard things she never wanted to hear again.

----------

The woman's voice rang out, sardonic and cutting. "Oh. More assholes! Hey you. Why don't you take that bat and shove it up your ass?"

The sounds carried so well...Amber could close her eyes and see everything played out on the black of her eyelids.

"Dearie me. That's no way to treat your hosts, ma'am. Hosts that are already motherfucking offended, I might add." Negan, all smiles, but his malicious eyes saying that was a lie – that you were fucking fucked.

"Screw you, asshole."

"Should we cut out her tongue? She doesn't really need it. I can always fetch a pen and paper for her to write on."

The woman was silent. He sighed. "Why don't we start over, huh? Hi! I'm Negan. And you are...?"

"You're Negan? So, you're a real guy after all?"

"Yes, I am a real guy after all. Am I what you expected?"

The woman laughed harshly. "A big ugly goon? Yeah."

"Ugly?" Amber could hear him pouting. "Connor," he said, highly affronted, "Does that mean you were lying all those times you said I was pretty?"

Connor chuckled. "Don't listen to this shite, boss. I still think you're hot."

The woman growled, dog-like. "What do you bastards want?"

"What do I want?" Amber shivered. Negan's voice had gone utterly black. "I want to smash your fucking skull like a ripe pumpkin. A fate that's far too fast for you."

Amber heard the woman make a small noise, like a squeak.

"...but that would be a waste of potential, and I have other things to consider than my own petty revenge. Right? And so do you, dear. We can help each other – and you can fucking live through this. How does that sound?"

The woman was silent. Thinking it over. Her response was an intake of breath and then the outtake, the clear sound of phlegm dislodging from her throat.

Apparently, Negan hadn't heeded Mark's warning; he gave a disgusted little shriek. "That was motherfucking uncalled for!"

The woman laughed.

"Nasty bitch," he growled. And then his voice, startled again: "Whoa!" - the woman screeched and there came a 'thlack' of something impacting flesh.

Negan's voice was increasingly annoyed, growling low. "Alright. That was a lucky shot, bitch. And I'll give it to you. But unless you want me to fucking hit you back – and I don't like hitting ladies...but I will - then I suggest you quit your little kung-fu act."

"I got her, boss." There was a scuffling sound.

"Why don't we all just fucking calm down for a moment, huh? Should we start over... again? Annoying as you are, I'm still willing to give you a chance."

"There's nothing to talk about," the woman said. "If you're going to kill me, then do it." Her voice was quivering.

"Do you want me to kill you?"

Silence.

"How loyal are you to Gregory? The motherfucker who set you up for suicide? He obviously doesn't give two shits about you, sending you on this asinine mission. Sure, it killed some of my fucking guys, but it's akin to killing a few hornets instead of torching the fucking nest. Right?"

Silence.

"You can return the favor. I don't want you all dead. That's counter-fucking-productive... but Gregory needs to be taught a lesson for fucking with me. I thought he had better sense than that, but apparently, even I can make mistakes. Crazy, I know." Amber could almost see his eyes sparkling, throwing a flirty little wink as he said this. "So...all you have to do... is go back there. And put a fucking knife in his goddamn throat. And we can call it fucking even."

"Gregory didn't have shit to do with it," she said. "I'm not going to kill him. It was our own plan."

"Really."

"Yes, really." Her voice was shaking again.

He traced his fingers along Lucille's barbs – or Amber imagined he did so – and hummed to himself. "You know, I don't really give a shit, honestly. That shit is semantics. Whether or not he planned it... good ole Gregory is still ultimately in control of you people. Or rather...he would be in control if he wasn't such a pathetic fuck. The responsibility still lies with him – he's gonna pay for it, for what you did..."

"I'm not doing your dirty work, Negan. You can go fuck yourself. Like I said, go stick that bat up your ass, and fucking spin on it for all I care."

"Nah...Lucille's not really into ass-play, but seriously..."

The woman gave a sudden gasp; Amber could imagine him holding Lucille out, pressing the barbed end into her soft cheek. Leering down the length of the bat, his voice going dark and tangled again, thorny with threat. "...this shit can go two fucking ways. Easy or motherfuckin' hard. Should I elaborate? Yeah, I think I should.

Either you go in and gut that fat fuck, shoot him, pop his head off, I don't give a fucking fuck – or I go in there, and I will kill every fucking person who gets between me and him... and I won't bother knocking, either. So what's it going to to be, you devious little cunt? Huh? You want it fucking hard?"

Mark looked over at her, knee-deep in his boxes, his eyes wide. She could only shrug at him. Whatever Negan was going to do to her – there was no way she could stop him, and that crazy bitch brought it on herself. What kind of idiot attacks him?

"I'll do it...if you let the others go. I have to see you let them go."

"The others? There's only one left, sweetie. One of your group escaped our truck but got caught by the Biters on our fence. Ate his fucking face off - Well, that's motherfucking karma for you...after the way you killed our fucking boys. Oh, and the other one? The big guy? - yeah, he got stupid. Thought he'd pull a fuckin' gun on us – took about eight bullets to the chest."

"They're... dead...?" The woman's voice was faint. "What...what about Ethan...? He's got brown hair and a red coat..."

"That's the one left. What, is that your boyfriend or something?" The Savior Leader sounded pleased with the information.

"You...you killed them all..." Now she was crying. And suddenly, mayhem.

She screamed. There came a thud, a sound of something wooden – a chair maybe, falling over. Connor yelled, "Fuckin' bitch!"

A scuffle of feet. A yell, startled and pained – it sounded like Negan, and then he was cursing, cursing a storm, and she heard a sound like fists colliding with flesh. Pained, choked gasps.

Negan snapped, "That's enough."

The sounds stopped, but the lull was short. Negan's laughter rang out, laced with incredulity. "That was your Hail Fucking Mary? You really thought that was going to work!? How fucking stupid are you?"

"Fuck you!" Her scream was more of an airy whistle. "Fuck you!"

A stinging smack of flesh on flesh rang out, and again Negan snarled, "That's enough, Connor."

"Boss, are you all right?"

"Yeah...watch her a second..."

Footsteps. Amber quickly shut the door, and Mark fumbled with some of the canned vegetables, dropping one to cover the sound of the closet closing.

"Oh, glad to see you rushed to our fucking aid," Negan sneered, and as Mark began to apologize, he continued, "Shut the fuck up, and just find me a fucking bandage or some shit..."

"You're bleeding," Mark said, "Are you ok, sir?" There came the frantic sound of him pawing through a box. "That looks bad."

"I can't really feel it...fucked up as that sounds."

"That means it's deep," Mark said. "You might need stitches."

"Fucking fantastic. Whoever frisked that bitch for weapons is gonna be hanging on the fucking fence."

"Ok. Just hold still, sir."

There wasn't any talk for a few minutes, just the sound of Mark ripping something papery, and Negan making a few noises of discomfort. Amber wanted badly to see what had happened, but she supposed she'd find out later. A cut or stab, she figured, the woman's desperate attempt to take him out.

"That's good enough for now..." her husband said, finally, "..all right, back to it." He paused. "Sorry you have to hear this nastiness, Mark. But if we let them get away with this...they'll think they can try anything. You know how important the Hilltop is to us, to our survival."

"I know," said Mark.

Footsteps receded. She heard the woman, her voice defiant still, but marred with fear. "Oh, you're still alive...that's too bad..."

"Like a fuckin' little scratch is going to kill me," Negan scoffed. "Gimmie a fucking break. Well, now that you got that shit out of your system, have you considered my offer? Even a little bit?"

"What the hell do you think, asshole?"

"I'd say no."

"I hope it gets infected," she spat. "I hope you get gangrene."

"What a lovely girl you are," he chuckled. "So very fucking pleasant. You know, you remind me of my first wife." His chuckle morphed into a full blown laugh; the woman was undoubtedly confused.

"Must be one desperate bitch to marry you," she said, finally.

"Must be..." He said. Grinning. Eyes dark. Amber could see it. He was laughing, but underneath he was a smoldering coal. Every word of hers was puffing him into flame. "But that was a compliment. She's feisty. Spirited. Hard to break. Not that I would want to break her – but you on other hand..." He sighed, a long, weary rattle of air. "I can see it's not going to fucking happen. You aren't going to break - just look at you. Tough as fucking nails, fuckin' tatted and pierced to shit."

Silence.

"Do you like that look, Connor? All those fucking piercings?"

"It's alright," said the Brit.

"Yeah. How many is that in each ear, sweetie? Six? A bit much, don't you think? You look like a fucking pincushion."

Silence.

"Sometimes less is fucking more. You know?"

Crystal gave a pained, abrupt shriek. "OH! You asshole! You fucking – NO!" Another shriek.

"Sorry, sorry," said the Savior Leader, a laugh edging his words. "Had to make both sides match."

Crystal was breathing loud, whimpering with each inhale.

"Heh. That was kind of fun. Like pulling wings off a fly. Right?" He chuckled. "I know what you're thinking, but I actually wasn't the kid who torched ants with a magnifying glass or any of that shit."

"F-f-fuck you." There was another whimper. Then Crystal cleared her throat and spoke in a stronger tone. "You piece of shit... yank them all out! If that's what gets you off!"

"It really doesn't. I don't enjoy hurting women." Negan let out a long sigh, and Amber envisioned him pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're not going to break. That's fuckin' clear. But we still have your little fuck-buddy."

Silence.

"Connor...go deliver these to that Ethan guy. Tell him we're gonna start with her fucking fingers next. Huh? Let's see if he's up for a little dirty work."

Amber heard the squeak of footsteps, and she quickly closed the closet door, peering out through the crack. A man passed by with the flash of a green mohawk; Connor heading off with something clutched in his fist.

Negan continued in a sweet tone. "You ever tried these kind of kitchen shears? Eh...you don't seem the cooking type. But whatever. These are fucking awesome. Did you know they can cut right through bone?"

There was fear in her voice now. "Fuck you...! You...you burn in hell, you son-of-a-bitch!"

"Hell's where all the cool kids go. So I've heard. I think I'll fit right in."

"You bastard...you... you shithead."

Negan shrugged, or Amber imagined it. He was probably leaning against the door frame, his hands smeared with blood, his face utterly impassive. "I gave you the choice to play nice...don't blame me for your bad decisions."

Horror was hard to hold in. Amber pressed the heel of hand to her mouth. Trying to quell her thoughts...the thoughts brought panic...but they scurried like roaches exposed to light.

Negan, you wouldn't really do that, would you? Oh my god.

Stories, visions, flashing through, a frenzied edit of light and sound. His deeds and misdeeds, all the things she'd heard...things the wives had confirmed...

He's stabbed, he's strangled, he's beaten-

Necks snapped like twigs, bones broken, the Iron, the fucking Iron,

-and kitchen shears on fingers is supposed to be a shock? He would do it, he's gonna do it...

And it wasn't even that he'd be removing her fingers, but that was just the point where he was going to start. And she would have to hear it, every damn part of it.

"You're insane."

"Yeah," agreed Negan, sounding distracted. "Hold that thought." There was the thud of a door, and the thump of footsteps. Amber shut the door fully, breathless in the dark confines.

There is nothing you can do. Nothing.

The only thing for you is to hide. Avoid discovery.

Nothing else.

She sipped air in like hot tea, just short gasps through her parted lips.

"Sir...? D-d-do you need my help...?"

"Nah. Well, yes, actually. There's fucking tools in here, right? Does there happen to be a blowtorch?"

"...uh...er...yeah...I think..." Mark sounded light-headed, like he might swoon at any minute. Feet walked, something banged. "Um...here...here you go, sir..."

"Awesome. Fucking perfect."

A hiss of air, a puff of ignition. The torch expelled its fiery wrath for a moment, then was shut off.

"W-w-what...what's that for...?"

Negan was perfectly calm. No inflection whatsoever, nothing rattling his cage. He said it like a weatherman would describe the blandest summer day. "Cauterization."

The other man seemed to be having trouble breathing – Amber pressed her hand hard to her lips, tried to shut her ears to it.

"Mark? You're fucking ghost-pale, man. Here...sit down. Yeah? You ok? Take a fucking breath. Do you need that fucking... thing? What's it called – inhaler?"

Mark breathed hard. "I'm...I'm alright." After a minute, he discharged his inhaler and his breathing evened out.

"I don't know why you're so upset...I'm the one who has to do this shit.." Negan growled. "Motherfucking bastards. Like this is how I want to spend my goddamn day... getting dirty."

"Sir." Connor's voice. "We got a wee problem. Fuckin' bloke didn't believe me."

"What do you mean, he didn't believe you?"

"About Ms. Crystal-bitch's earrings. Said we could've got them from anywhere. Said we could've just taken 'em out real gentle-like and rubbed blood on 'em. Or maybe it's ketchup! Nah, mate, he didn't say that last bit. Heh. But the rest, yeah."

There was a stretch of silence; Amber could only imagine the dumbfounded look on Negan's face. Eyes wide, mouth dropped. Finally, he sputtered something halfway between a laugh and a snort. "What. The. Fuck. Are you serious?"

"Bloody serious."

Amber heard them move away. Their voices dropped low.

Connor: "We ought to bring him in here. Make him watch us do her fingers, yeah?"

Negan: "No. I don't want to do that."

Connor: "It's the best way to break 'im."

Negan: "I don't know that it is. Look, the motherfucker obviously can't care about her that much...if he thinks we're just playing fucking games?"

Connor: "That's why we make him watch – he'll see we're serious."

Negan: "This little ambush of theirs... they didn't expect to get caught, did they? They thought the Walkers would finish our boys off... and I'd be none the wiser. I'd probably just fucking assume they got overwhelmed by a surprise batch of undead, right? But... they got fucking caught, and now the Hilltop is caught in the fucking crossfire..."

Connor: "Yeah...?"

Negan: "They don't want my wrath coming down on the Hilltop. They want to take the fall. They want to be fucking martyrs. For what... who the fuck knows. Maybe they think it'll inspire the Hilltop to oppose us... maybe they just have delusions of fucking grandeur and think dying for their shitty little cause is worth it. I don't fucking know."

Connor: "Yeah? What's that got to do with not makin' him watch?"

Negan: "All right. Picture this shit. We bring him in. We start on her, right...and she starts fucking screaming at him: 'Don't give in! No matter what!' You can picture that self-sacrificing bullshit, right? How fucking inspiring it is..." He laughed. "So...maybe it works. Maybe the guy doesn't fucking give in, just to honor her...she gives him the courage to resist."

Connor: "Either that, or he breaks anyway..."

Negan: "Of course. But I think it'd be more effective to keep him right where he is. Alone. Scared. In the fucking dark... his resolve crumbling. He doesn't know what we're doing to her... he doesn't know if he's next, and she's not there to bolster his fucking backbone."

Connor: "Ok. Yeah."

Negan: "You've got a point though. He should hear it. Open his fucking door, gag him too. We'll let him listen as we fuck her up real gentle-like."

A door in bad need of oiling creaked open. Amber heard a man yell briefly in protest, then nothing. Several moments passed.

Connor's voice returned. "It's done, boss."

Negan sighed heavily. She heard the hiss and flume of the blowtorch, on, off, on, off, like Negan was playing with it. Then finally he grunted... "All right... let's get this shit over with..."

Footsteps. A door opened.

"Hi-ho Crystal-O... miss me?"

"As much as I miss a yeast infection...and don't say my fucking name."

"Can't say I've had the displeasure, Crystal. But I'm afraid I've got some bad news – though you might already know it – your boyfriend is an asshole."

Silence.

"Or maybe he's just fucking stupid, or a coward, or all of the above... the thing is, he thought the earrings were a bluff. How do your ears feel, anyway? Painful, huh? It's only going to get worse for you if you don't give me what I want."

"You know what I want?" Crystal sneered. "For you to shut the fuck up."

Amber expected either a laugh or a backhand, but Negan was quiet a moment and then, "You're right. No more small talk. It's time for business." His tone was winter-chilled, hollow of compassion. "Hold her down."

Amber gathered her sleeve, and set her mouth upon it... Here it comes... I can't scream, I can't... oh God... I don't want to hear this-

There was a scuffle of feet; Crystal gave an indignant squawk.

"Got her?"

"Yep."

"Heh... aww..." Negan's voice went horribly sing-song, cooing, "This little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed home-"

Loud gasping breaths. Crystal was on the verge of hyperventilating.

"-Oh, fuck it. Who needs pinkies anyway?"

Amber bit into the fabric, screwed her eyes closed.

The breaths turned into a whimpering cry. The cry to a wail. The wail to a scream. Over it, Negan grunted with exertion, snarling, "Motherfucking...goddamn it! Shit!"

Another wail, winding down like a dying ambulance siren. It morphed into ragged sobs.

Negan panted, "Oh fuck... shit... my fucking apologies. I thought it would be one clean snip, but these shears fucking suck."

"Shit," Connor said. "We got a spurter!"

"Fuuuuuuck..." An exasperated groan. "No no no no... that was my favorite fucking shirt... seriously?! Get the fuckin' torch over here... stat!"

Your favorite white t-shirt... out of the twenty identical ones in your drawer? Amber ground her teeth into her sweater sleeve, her chest shaking with a sudden rush of mad giggles. Her brow was slick with sweat. The closet was stifling hot, the air suffocating.

Crystal was still sobbing, weird half-shrieks intermingled. The familiar hot-air -whoosh- of the blowtorch came. "No..." She cried. "No, don't, don't!"

"You don't want to bleed to death, do you...? Hold fucking still..."

Another tormented scream, turning into agonized moans. A drop of sweat slid down Amber's temple, a droplet of tear down her cheek. I won't ever unhear that. I won't ever-

"Your hands don't match now... that looks kind of fucked-up." Negan gave a displeased grunt.

Crystal made a weird sound, a hiccuping sort of moan. She cried out weakly, and then her ragged voice rose back into another scream.

"...Gotta make 'em match. This'll only take a fucking second." Negan grunted. "Shit, can you tone it down a little? I'm going fuckin' deaf here!"

The screaming continued. Amber shivered in the closet. She heard the torch again. The moans. Her face was sopping wet. Tears, sweat, mucus flowing from her nose. Make it stop, make it stop, just kill her or something -

"Your boyfriend is such a numb-fucking-nuts, who knows if two little piggies will convince his dumb ass."

"...Fuck you," Crystal sobbed. "Fuck you, fuck you-"

"Yeah, how's that feel? Having parts of you taken off slow? Like you did to my fuckin' men? Karma's a motherfuckin' bitch-"

"Then you're gonna die the slowest of all, you sick fucking freak!" Crystal shrieked through her sobs, her voice so mangled Amber could barely understand her.

"Heh. Complimenting me ain't gonna save your ass, sweetie. Now where were we? Right. Cheer up, ya bitch. You've only got eight more to go."

"No, no. NO!" Crystal let out a pained, panicked scream. "No...no... STOP! Get away...!"

Negan laughed. "I'm just-"

There was an abrupt quietness. Amber's pounding heart filled the space. The rush of blood in her ears.

"-fucking with you. Shit."

"Oy...she alive?"

"Yeah...she just passed out. So much for that high female pain tolerance, eh? Two ought to be enough, anyway." A smirk in her husband's voice. Oh, he was horrible, horrible...how was she going to face him later?

Don't think too far ahead. I still have to get out of here alive. If he catches me... I'll be sitting right alongside her sorry ass.

"Watch her." Negan made a disgusted noise. "Ewwww..." He laughed. "I'll go bring Ethan his finger food."

Connor laughed too. Amber had to fight another wave of nutty giggles. Finger food?... ha ha... oh Hubby, you're so hilarious...

Footsteps. A door opened. She heard the elusive voice of Ethan. It was a squirrely sort of whine.

"Hey, there's my Doubting Thomas. Shit. We haven't been introduced. I'm Negan..."

Ethan made a gagging noise.

"...and I brought you a little pressie! Uno, dos... Crystal's most littlest of piggies!"

"What did you do...?"

"Exactly what I said I'd fucking do." Negan shook his head with his displeased, patronizing pout. "But don't worry...I took them off real fucking gentle-like. I think it still smarted a bit, but maybe she was over-exaggerating. I bet you could hear her screaming all the way in here! What a drama queen!"

Ethan made a pitiful noise, the most pitiful of all, according to Negan... the sound of man tears.

"You still want to play games?" No more jovial tone. This-is-business Negan was back. "Or do I have to take more off of her?"

More man tears. "How do I know you didn't kill her? I don't hear her."

"She passed out, the goddamn pussy. You fuckin' wimps could never make it here. We cut off fingers for mere fucking theft around here. The way I see it, your little bitch got off fuckin' easy."

"You're nothing but monsters. All of you."

"Enough of this shit." Negan was starting to lose his cool; Amber could tell by that weird, flat tone that was creeping into his voice. "Answer me, right fucking now. Are you going to cooperate, or am I going to go back in there, and continue carving up your girlfriend? Your choice. Fingers? I can do them all. Toes? I got all motherfucking day. Tits? This shit turns my damn stomach, thinking of cutting up a fine pair like that – and how would you even go about it? You'd have to get a good grip on it, I guess, maybe use a hacksaw? Something that could really tear into that soft flesh-"

Amber felt her knees go weak. His voice was so fucking hollow. Void of feeling. She'd never heard it like that before, not that flat, that inhuman.

"OK!" Ethan let out a shriek. "OK! Just... just stop! What... what do I have to do...?"

Negan outlined his plan, his voice coming back to life as he did. By the end, it was warm and vibrant again, but nothing could ease the chill in Amber's bones. "Kill Gregory. I don't care how you do it. As long as they get the message. This is what happens when you fuck with the Saviors. Couldn't be simpler. But don't you dare think you can just go back home and do nothing. We'll be watching. You don't kill him, we kill the girl."

You'll kill her anyway, Negan. Minutes were torturous hours in the dark closet. Amber was hot, faint, sick. Don't lie.

She wanted out, wanted the cool sheets of her bed...but the Penthouse was no longer a safe haven. Negan would be back home eventually, and she'd have to face him... she'd have to preform the best acting of her life.

No matter what he looked like, how much he cleaned up, she'd see him covered in blood, she'd know of the fragments of Crystal's DNA under his fingernails, etched into the whorls of his palm. She could place her ear to his, like a seashell, and hear the roar of screams echoing back to her.

Maybe I should just grab Mark and run. Just run from here.

But she knew she couldn't – they had barely survived the first time in the outside world. They could try to flee to one of the settlements...but...

It's a choice. It's an idea...if I have to... if it's too dangerous to stay... I will. I'll go.

For now, she waited. Placing her sweaty forehead to the door and closing her eyes.

Ethan was freed, escorted away by Connor. Amber didn't hear Crystal. But she was a dead girl, either way.

Negan apologized again to Mark: ‘sorry you had to hear that, don't worry about the girl, I'll get Wells down to look at her’ – And he left too.

She tumbled out weakly when Mark opened the door and wrapped his arms around her.

"It's ok," he said, to her sudden overflow of tears. "It's ok, it's ok."

Mark was a liar too.

Nothing is ok. Nothing will ever be ok.

----

A/N: OH DEAR. Negan was pretty mean in this one! Eh, those assholes deserved it for messing with the Saviors! XD Will Negan kill Amber when he finds out about her cheating? Will Sherry serve up chicken fingers for dinner? Will Amber ever get that wax? WHO KNOWS? (I DO ACTUALLY)

Also...this was my take on why Negan’s arm is bandaged in Issue #100. Unlike the TV version, Comic Negan only wears that bandage in his debut issue. So either it’s for looks or to protect his wrist from injury... or he actually had an injury. So my take is that Crystal sliced the fuck out of him. Bad girl.

#negan #comic negan #negan fic #comicnegan>#lups writing

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zachdtfdempsey-blog · 7 years

Text

Overprotective

Request: Hey I was wondering if you could do a Zach x reader where you are Alex’s sister or best friend or something and he gets super protective of you? You can change anything (:

Word count: 2541

A/N: Thanks for the request! Not sure if this is what you wanted/expected, anon, but I hope you like it nonetheless! I felt I had a lot of creative freedom with this one, so I hope you guys like the direction I took this in. This took me a while to write, it’s almost 4AM right now LOL. (Btw, I feel like I focus a lot more on the reader’s relationship with Alex than with Zach, but trust me a majority of this imagine is filled with Zach scenes!!!) HOPE YOU ENJOY <3

Warning: A little bit of cursing

“Y/N,” Zach spoke in between kisses, “We should stop now.”

Breathless, you frowned as he pulled back from the kiss, “But I like kissing you.” You and Zach ditched your last class to hang out in the janitor’s closet. Well, make out in the janitor’s closet.

You and Zach began dating at the beginning of the school year; You were a junior, and he was a senior. You didn’t really take interest in him at first, knowing he was a jock, and probably an airhead. And neither did Zach, since he saw you as just another girl walking the halls everyday. Though, one day, you both were partnered up in AP Biology, your favorite subject, and soon you connected through your shared passion for science. He asked you to be his girlfriend during one of your study sessions, and you’ve been head over heels about him since then.

“I like kissing you too,” Zach responded, grabbing your waist and pulling you closer to him. “But your brother’s gonna kill me.”

As much as you loved your brother, you despised the fact that he’s never given Zach a chance. Ever since you and Zach began dating, Alex had been on your ass about every little thing you did. He drilled you half the time; You couldn’t even remember the last time you had a genuinely friendly conversation together. He definitely did have trust issues, and you hated that he always had to take it out on you. He particularly didn’t like Zach, mainly because of his past with Hannah. Several times you’ve tried to drill it into your brother’s head that you weren’t Hannah, that all those things that happened changed Zach for the better. But as you would expect, he didn’t believe you, and he didn’t want to anyway. Though, you couldn’t blame him. After all, you were his little sister.

You placed your hands on his chest, “Well, he’ll have to get through me first. Anyway, Bryce is having that big party tonight, so we can continue this there.” You kissed him on the nose, picked up your backpack, and stealthily snuck out of the closet.

You and Zach took care of the snacks as pools of guests arrived. Loud music was blaring from the living room, and colorful lights splashed against the walls of the dark kitchen.

Zach finished pouring chips into a bowl, and went to throw the empty bag away in the trash. You were desperately trying to reach for the pack of plastic cups that was sitting on the top shelf in the kitchen cabinet, but you could not seem to reach it.

“Need help, midget?” Zach asked, sneaking up on you from behind.

You slapped his arm jokingly, “Fuck you, babe.”

“When?” He asked with a smirk, making you bite your lip, trying to hide your grin.

Changing the subject, you said, “Just help me reach the cups, please?” He then proceeded to lift you off the ground and sat you onto the counter, on which you stood up and grabbed the cups on the top shelf. You dropped them down to Zach, who stacked them onto the main counter.

You sat on the counter, legs hanging off the edge, and brought Zach closer to you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, and your arms around his neck, as you thanked him with a passionate kiss. He held you by your waist and kissed you back, when all of a sudden you were interrupted by a familiar voice… your brother’s.

“Well, look what we have here,” Alex remarked.

You quickly detach yourself from Zach, and hop down from the counter, walking towards him.

“What are you doing here?” You crossed your arms, “Thought you’d be shadowing daddy at the police station for that career project or whatever.”

He grabbed some chips out of the bowl, stuffed them in his mouth, and talking with his mouth full, he responded, “Hm, that’s funny, because I thought you’d be studying at, what’s her name? Oh, Becca’s house tonight.” He spotted Becca across the living room, playing beer pong with the rest of the partygoers. “OH HEY BECCA!” he yelled across the room, in an attempt to make you feel guilty for lying.

You rolled your eyes at him. “I changed my mind. But seriously, you didn’t answer my question. Why are you here?”

“Oh, who could possibly miss out on one of the biggest parties of the year?” He grabbed a soda, and sipped from it. “Not me. Oh, also, if you didn’t notice, these are my friends too. Maybe you should hang out with people your own age.”

You shook your head and glared at him in response.

Before walking away, he grabbed the entire bowl of chips Zach had just prepared along with another can of soda. He walked towards Zach, who was standing behind you the entire time, and whispered loudly in his ear, “Just letting you know, if you break her heart, you bet your ass I’ll break yours too.”

Zach gulped, and you came in between them, “Alex, stop. Zach, excuse me.” You grabbed the bowl of chips your brother was holding and put it down, before pulling him by the arm and dragging him outside. “Can’t you give me a break? Can’t you give Zach a break?”

“I can.” You smiled at his response. “But I won’t,” he replied comically.

“UGH!” You groaned and threw your hands up in frustration, and made your way back inside the house.

“I’m doing this because I love you, little sis!” Alex yelled with a fake smile, before finishing up his soda can and crushing it in his fist.

2 hours and over 10 shots later, you were sitting on Zach’s lap, laughing until you couldn’t feel your stomach anymore. The night had only just begun, as Bryce took out an empty beer bottle and placed it on the floor. “Who’s up for a game of spin the–”

“BOTTLE!” You screamed. Zach threw his head back, laughing, as he’s never seen you so drunk in his life. “Was I right?”

Bryce chuckled in response, “Yes, Y/N, you are correct.”

“Proud of me babe?” You turned around, face to face with your boyfriend, as he nodded and flashed a smile at you. You got off his lap and sat on the floor, volunteering to spin first. The others nodded in amusement at your drunken manner, and you grabbed the bottle and gave it a good spin. It landed on Zach, of course, and everyone “ooh’d” sarcastically in response.

You spun around to see Zach still sitting on the couch, and commented, “Oh, shit! I get to kiss him?” You sat onto the couch, as Zach put his arm around you. “ARE YOU ALL JEALOUS? I get to kiss the finest man in this room right now, ” you said, the room filled with laughter. Nobody was as fucked up as you were right now. You began to hit on your boyfriend, throwing bad pick up lines at him, making him giggle, until he finally shut you up and kissed you. You threw your arms around him and kissed him back, slipping your tongue into his mouth.

Whistles and “ooh’s” echoed throughout the house, until a loud clapping sound broke out from the corner of the room. You broke the kiss to look up to see Alex. “Great, just wonderful!” He called out snidely.

You stood up, struggling to balance on your two feet, as Zach stood up behind you and held you to keep you from falling. You waved your arms out. “You’re still here?!”

“You’re still here? Or on another planet right now?” He answered, flaunting a mocking smile.

“You know what, big brother,” you almost fell over, but Zach caught you. “You need to stop following me everywhere, because guess what? I have a life. Okay?” You began to walk towards him, Zach following behind with his arms out in case you lost your balance. “I am tired, of you, telling me what to do, drilling my ass every single day, giving me, and Zach, a hard time. I like Zach, and Zach likes me, whether you like it, or not. Like, why can’t you, let me, be, fucking, happy?” you grew breathless, yet you tried to leap forward to get all up in your brother’s face, before Zach jumped in front of you to hold you back.

He held your shoulders, and looked in your eyes, “Y/N, stop taunting him. You’re drunk.”

You realized what a dickhead you were being, and nodded in response. You stopped breathing for 2 seconds, before you puked all over your boyfriend’s torso. Gasps and groans could be heard from all around the room, and tears began to fill your eyes as you felt embarrassed and helpless. Alex stared at the floor blankly, taking in everything you said to him. “I’m, I’m so sorry–” You said softly, before Zach cut you off with an “it’s okay.”

“Nothing to see here guys,” Zach told the partygoers who were blatantly staring, so they brushed it off and continued their game of Spin the Bottle. He took his shirt off and carried you to the bathroom, kissing your forehead. He put you down, and closed the bathroom door behind him. You fell to your knees, crawled to the toilet, and let it all out. He held your hair back, and rubbed your back, comforting you. He used his T-shirt to wipe your face when you were finished. He grabbed a cup by the sink, filled it with water, and let you drink from it. You exhaled, leaned back against the toilet, embracing your knees into your chest.

“Just breathe, babe,” Zach said, grabbing your hand and rubbing it.

And suddenly, without warning, tears began to fall from your eyes, and you couldn’t help but cry into him.

“What’s wrong?” He asked worriedly, holding you tight. “Why are you crying, Y/N?”

A loud knock banged against the door, ruining the moment, and Zach pulled you up off the ground to lead you out of the bathroom into an empty bedroom.

Alex caught a glimpse of him bringing you into the room, and so he discreetly followed. He stood by the door, close enough to be able to peek in and listen, but far enough so that you and Zach wouldn’t notice him standing there.

Through the door’s crack, he watched Zach sit you down on the bed.

You began to cry even more, Zach being exposed to your emotional vulnerable side for the first time. He sat next to you and held you in his arms, rubbing your back, and kissing the top of your head. Your arms wrapped around his torso, as you cried into his chest. Never have you felt this close to your boyfriend before, at least emotionally. As shitty as you felt, nothing could beat the feeling of Zach’s arms being wrapped around you; You felt safer than you’d ever been.

Still cuddled up into his chest, you begin to speak. “Zach, he doesn’t want me to have anything to do with you. You know why?” You spoke between sniffles. “Because of Hannah. Because of what happened. I know you, Zach. I know you changed. But he doesn’t want to believe that. You’re the one person who’s made me truly happy this entire year. I couldn’t be more happy that you came into my life, but I also feel like I’m letting him down every time I see you.”

“Shh,” he responds. “It’s okay, babe.”

“It’s really not,” you break the embrace, and lay down, your head on his lap. “I miss my brother. I feel like ever since I started seeing you, I grew distant from him, but not because of you, because of me. We had a really great brother/sister relationship, Zach. I just wish I could fix it, but I feel like he’ll never warm up to you, to us.”

“Babe,” he said, playing with your hair, “What happened in the past has been done. We can’t change it. Every single day I feel sorry for what I did. You know that. But you also need to know that you can’t control your feelings, and Alex can’t control his either. Whatever Alex feels about us is his problem, so don’t beat yourself up for someone else’s feelings and opinions that you can’t control. Remember, Alex loves you and wouldn’t do anything intentional to hurt you, he’s your brother.”

Still standing outside, Alex sighed deeply, eavesdropping on this heartfelt conversation between his sister and her boyfriend.

“I want you to know, I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you either,” Zach continued, “and maybe someday he will see that. But you have to give it time. Don’t give your brother a hard time because he wants to protect you.”

“But he gives me a hard time,” you answer.

“Y/N, I have a little sister too. And you may not see it but, I am extremely protective over her. I’ve always been. And what I see from Alex is that he’s only being a prick towards you to warn you of the heartbreak or hurt you may find ahead of you,” he held your hand. “But I can promise you that you won’t find it. Not as long as you’re with me,” he kissed your hand.

Watching the entire thing unfold, Alex stood outside, soda in hand, as he teared up and smiled.

“How did I find such a good person like you? I definitely don’t deserve you,” you respond. You sat up next to him, placed a hand onto his chest, and continued, “You’re way too hot for me, dude.”

Zach chuckled, and gestured for you to lay back down, “Okay babe, you’re seriously shitfaced right now. I think what you need is some rest. I’ll be here.” He kissed you on the lips and lifted the covers over the both of you.

A “thank you” escaped from your lips as you closed your eyes and fell asleep without effort.

You wake up the next morning, confused out of your mind. You were in your own bedroom. You felt an arm around your waist; Startled, you turn your head ever so slightly to see that it’s a shirtless Zach. In your bed. You were extremely clueless as to why he was in your bed, shirtless.

Oh my god. Did we do it? You thought to yourself. Your eyes wandered around the room, eyeing Zach’s shirt on the floor, stained with vomit. Oh, nope. That was me.

Suddenly, you gasp, upon seeing your brother standing at the entrance of your room, drinking a glass of water. You try to cover Zach up with your bed sheets, as Alex chuckled quietly.

You stared at him with a concerned look on your face, waiting for a witty remark to escape his lips, but instead he whispers with a smile, “I brought you both home. You were both drunk. Well, actually, he was tipsy, you were fucked up. Like for real, fucked up.”

You exhaled sharply, as a smile creeped up on your lips.

“But anyway,” he sipped his drink, “I think you were meant to be with him.”

#zach dempsey imagine #zach dempsey x reader #zach dempsey #zach dempsey fanfiction #alex standall imagine #alex standall #alex standall x reader #13 reasons why #ross butler #ross butler x reader #ross butler imagine #13 reasons why imagine #13 reasons why fanfiction #miles heizer imagine #miles heizer #miles heizer x reader #miles heizer fanfiction #zachdtfdempsey

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