#ohhh the poor nurse is having a rough time

[witchofthesouls]

Are there any differences between the verses where the djd + nurse + nickel are more around the rest of the cons / doing their kill list spree on their own sweet time?

Nickel and the nurse are Hot Gossip to those outside the Justice Division because of all the mental fuckery that's going on there.

1. It's the D.J.D.

2. Why does the torture-kill squad get two medical professionals?

3. Newsparks

4. Tarn as a donor with newsparks

5. The D.J.D. has newsparks!

It doesn't help that the 'cons have a certain mindset that's stacked against the classically trained medical professionals.

The biggest difference is stress.

In the original au, Tarn's Conjunx did need to do an induction to finish off the second trio in some incubators. Nickel runs a tight ship within Tarn's fist, so she isn't afraid to take anyone's knee joints if any of the mechs disturb the newparks finishing off. She had to chase Vos away several times because the mech would treat it like a koi pond.

In the au where Tarn needs to be present at all officer meetings, the poor nurse was doing a lot to keep themselves safe.

Not only is Overlord shadowing as a hungry, temperamental poltergeist whenever the nurse leaves the ship as he speaks terrible, disturbing, and/or filthy things to them, he also acts like the most menacing, attention-seeking cat that's leaving half-dead mechs as bait to fish out the D.J.D.'s new medical team. (You find that Overlord is a very curious and chatty mech. As you and Nickel work on stabilizing the poor glitches, Overlord voices his observations and relishes going over all the strange tinctures and concoctions you've used on him. Right or wrong you refuse to give him answers but he's weirdly into it.)

And whenever you leave the ship, you gain several persistent barnacles. Not only Overlord at your heels, but there's one of the Constructicons and, weirdly enough, Sixshot.

The constant hypervigilance and ever-increasing stress, especially when you need to keep testing new formulas to put down a Phase Sixer as curious as Overlord because there's no way in the Shadow that you'll be on the same planetary system as the mech without something to put him down immediately.

Unfortunately, it pushed the poor nurse into an early emergence before the trio was ready. The incubators could only do so much because you and Nickel were still preparing them. The second trio will be very small and fragile as newsparks, but once they hit the late sparkling stage, they'll catch up to their older siblings.

[falloutjay]

Eric x careless/troublemaker reader, reader was always a crazy kid, she felt no one really understood her, and her only real friend was Esther Stoley, Annie Knitts and Nicole. But Reader has always admired Eric and never gotten why everyone hated him (she finds both Kyle and Wendy very annoying). One day, she finds him and Butters making their next scheme, and she wants in. After an effective day of pranking, they (well Eric but reader likes Butters's company) take her under their wing. They generally start hanging out and starts to be the 'girl' of the main group (she thinks of Stan, Butters and Kenny has her brothers) and she finds Eric and Kyle's banter hilarious. It gets better (for her at least): she always defends him now (be it irrationally, rationally, verbally or physically) like: Heidi tried to warn Reader about Eric...but the poor girl leaves with a broken nose or Wendy was just upset how someone so awful, could have someone advocate for them and starts to plan to tell her about the breast cancer incident when Bebe would tell that it's Y/n and if anything, what she did to him would just make her stay more, making Wendy stop. She was also a big fan of the Coon and would just gush about how cool he was (she does like Wonder Tweek, Mosquito and Toolshed but she loves Coon the best). Everyone was pretty divsive, some people thought it was funny and teased him on it (like: Craig, Stan and Kenny), some people shipped it (like: Clyde, Butters and weirdly Nicole/Tweek), but some people were afraid of those two becoming a couple (Kyle, Heidi and Wendy). Eric is strangely 'no comment'y about all this until one day, Eric is just about to be turned into the principal when suddenly Reader in a elorate plan, knocks out the witness and pins the blame on someone else. After that's over, Reader can't take it anymore and happily asks him to be her partner/boyfriend and Eric proudly accepts and the two go on to create to create anarchy. May others pray for their safety.

Hey guys! It's me! I'm back! :D

I'm still stressed AF, but after my day was really nice, I felt super motivated to finally continue this lovely prompt, so I did.

I'm currently still in the process of moving and my exams are still not over, but I'm trying!

So I hope I can publish the next request soon and I love all you guys, thank you for all the likes, reblogs, follows and most importantly your patience! <3

____________________________________

Eric Cartman x careless!troublemaker!female!Reader

“Don’t you think that’s a bit extreme Eric?” Butters asked, eyebrow raised as he listened to Erics new pranking plan. “No, it’s not at all, “eXtRemE”.” Eric retorted and shook his head.

They didn’t notice that someone approached them, listening to their plan. “W-well if you say so, I trust you, Eric.” As the fatter one of the two heard a twig snap, his head turned immediately and look at a kid from their class. What was her name again? “Who are you?” Eric asked unimpressed. “Y/N.” She answered dryly.

Butters kept looking between the two, moving his head, whenever someone said something. “What do you want?” “I want in on your plan.” “What makes you think I want someone like you in this? You normally play with the girls.”

“What does that have to do with anything. Just because I hang out with Esther, Annie and Nicole…That changes nothing about the fact that I love what you’re planning here, and I want in.” Eric seemed to think about the proposition for a second.

“Okay. I think I need one more person around here. Butters can barely do one fucking job.” So, he explained the plan to you in big detail. And in your humble opinion, it was brilliant. Once Eric had finished explaining, he looked at you with a sly smile.

“So, what do you think?” You pretended to think for a second, before an evil grin appeared on your face. “Why stop there? We can also pull a prank on the teachers and the school buses if we put in a little more effort.” “Never thought about that one before. I like your way of thinking, Y/N.”

The two looked into each other’s eyes, clearly seeing that mischievous spark in each pair of eyes. Butters watched you in horror, afraid of what he had just now witnessed. “Ohhh hamburgers.”

Y/N became a regular in Stans gang rather fast. Kenny and Stan love her to bits, just like she does. They love hanging out with her and to Kenny she’s like Karen. One thing that Y/N really enjoys is listening to Kyle and Eric's bickering. No matter the topic and no matter how loud or extreme the two get, she just sits there like it’s a cinema and the two are the newest marvel movie. Speaking of superhero movies, South Parks very own heroes are a topic ever so often too. And to Cartman’s delight, his trusted friend loves talking about The Coon. His super-secret hero identity. She would also gush about Wonder Storm, Mosquito and Toolshed but she would always praise The Coon, which is a melody in Cartman’s ears. Another thing Cartman loves about his only female friend is how she loves defending him to anyone. Be it teachers, her fellow girl friends, or anyone else. When Heidi tried to warn her that Eric means bad news, she had to visit the nurse afterwards. Y/N had detention for breaking the poor girl’s nose, but she sure as hell didn’t regret her decision. Even when she was shunned by the girls from there on.

“I just can’t believe her. Maybe she will change her mind when I tell her about the whole Breast cancer thing? You know… It could affect her too, maybe that’s wha-Wendy…” Bebe interrupted her and sighted. “You remember how Heidi was? How every time we said something mean about Cartman, she would only try harder to prove us wrong?” “Of course, I remember. How could I forget.” Wendy mumbled and stabbed her fork through her salad. “If you try to reason with her, she will just hit you with the whole “He isn’t like that”-schtick. You can’t change her mind, okay?” Bebe eyed their classmate who was happily chatting with Eric and Kenny a few tables away. “I guess.” Wendy said defeated and closed her eyes, asking herself how Eric could even make a girl interested in him.

On another table across the cafeteria, Craig and those guys were seated. Oddly enough, their topic was similar. Y/N L/N and Eric Cartman. “I don’t know why but they’d make quite a cute couple you know?” Clyde said with a smile before biting into his burger. “I know, right?” Nicole agreed and to everyone’s surprise, even Tweek nodded along. “I don’t think they’d become a thing though.” Craig mumbled lazily. “Why?” Clyde asked, obviously interested in the gossip.

“Well, Kenny, Stan and I teased him about it in History class, but he keeps saying he doesn’t like her that way.” “Aww, come on Craig, you know very well that he would never admit it just like that. Guys don’t just admit they have a crush. I’m sure he likes her. I mean, she the only one who can stand him for longer than a day.” Nicole commented, a sly smile spread across her face. “I just think the anti-Cartman fraction would rather die than see those two become a thing.” Token commented and his eyes darted across the room, looking at Kyle, Heidi and Wendy. “Well, I guess we will have some funerals to visit sometime soon.” Nicole replied and everyone at their table had to involuntarily smile.

“That’s it. ERIC. To the Principal. Now.” Mister Garrisons voice thundered through the hallways and a confused Y/N closed her locker. She let out a deep sigh, knowing something must have gone wrong with his new plan.

“Guess I gotta bust him out again.”

Knowing the way to the principal by heart she made her way there, only catching a glimpse of the in pink paint and glitter covered Mister Garrison, who kept cursing like crazy.

Y/N happily skipped past the not-occupied secretary desk and took a seat next to Eric. “I already wondered where you are.” Cartman commented unimpressed. “Sorry, I had to look at Garrison for a second. So what went wrong?” “This stupid asshole over there saw me set up the paint bomb in Garrisons locker thing.” The brown-haired whispered and pointed at the kid that was sitting across from them. “Thanks to that asshat, I will probably be suspended for some days or some shit.”

“Okay, I’ll handle it.” The h/c-haired said and got up to go over. She hovered over the boy who was looking up to her. “What?” He asked annoyed. “You’re Jonas Miller, right?” Y/N asked with the sweetest voice she could manage. “Yeah, what makes you care?” He asked, before a fist connected with his face. Surprised by her own strength, he seemed to be dazed and fell onto the other chairs.

“Y/N, what the fuck?” Cartman cried out confused. “Fast, hit me!” She said, not fazed at all. “What? Why?” “God, just do it!” Trusting his mischievous partner Erics fist landed on Y/N pretty face and he even felt a hint of remorse. “Good punch Eric. Now the other side.” Once again, trusting his opposite, he did what was asked. Despite now feeling rather woozy, Y/N grabbed Jonas and laid him down in a different position. She then made Eric kneel next to her and hold her.

“If you ever tell anyone I cried, I will tell everyone about your dirty little secrets, yeah?” Eric nodded, somewhat intimidated, and impressed, watched her do her best to cry heavily.

Hearing the blood-curdling scream, Mister Mackey and the secretary came running, looking at the scene before them. Mister Mackey immediately made sure that everyone was okay, before asking the roughed-up Y/N what happened. With a trembling voice, she answered: “J-Jonas over there did the prank on Mister Garrison and-and tried to pin it on-on Eric. So, I c-came here t-t-to tell everyone t-that Eric was with me t-the whole time. When Jonas n-noticed that, he hit m-m-me and Eric punched him, to-to help me.” The now fully awake again Jonas looked at the girl in horror. “N-No! That’s not the story! I- I DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT, M'KAY?!” Mister Mackey interrupted him. “Hitting an innocent girl?! Jonas Miller, you will have to face the consequences!” Y/N still held up her best puppy eyes and Mister Mackey finally turned to the two troublemakers. “Eric, will you bring Y/n to the nurse, please. I will bring Jonas to PC Principal personally, m'kay.” Eric nodded, somewhat petrified, and guided Y/N along the corridors. He felt shocked. He didn’t know why. He never felt this scared before.

Once in the nurse’s office and after Y/N was handed an icepack, she was the first one to speak, once the nurse left them alone.

“You’re so quiet.” She commented dryly. “Thank you.” “For what?” “Getting me out of there. I never- It’s fine, okay? Don’t worry.” Silence fell over the two once more. Y/N just enjoyed the cooling ice on her burning skin and Eric still felt thankful for what she did for him. For him. And no one else. She would have never done this for Kyle. Not for Kenny. She did it for him.

“Hey Eric?” The boy next to her nodded. “You know I wouldn’t have done this for anyone else right?” Eric nodded once more. “Can I ask you for something?” “Of course.”

“You know, I like you a lot. So, would you maybe like to be my boyfriend?”

Bonus:

Eric gave no answer. He just slowly intertwined his fingers with hers and that was answer enough. “Are your cheeks red from blushing or is it from me hitting you?” “Maybe a bit of both.” She laughed and to Eric, it was the most beautiful sound he ever listened to. His girlfriend’s laugh.

Kyle was doing his math homework and started to get annoyed with the harder and harder becoming questions. A vibration ripped him out of his thoughts. He fished for his iPhone without taking his eyes off the paper and unlocked it. The contact read “FATASS” and it was a picture. Kyle's eyes widened in horror as his eyes scanned the picture. It was a picture of a list with dozens of prank ideas. The caption was what truly terrified him. “Me and my GIRLFRIEND brainstormed a bit, hope you’re ready Kahl <3”

Kyle felt like crying. Not only because of his math homework but also because his worst nightmare became a reality. Cartman has a Girlfriend. And it was no other than the infamous Y/N L/N.

[broadstbroskis]

drunk dial | auston matthews

a very long time ago, an anon sent me an ask with a prompt that was like “so we’re just ignoring the fact that you drunk dialed me to tell me you love me?” with auston and @nolypats and i have been chatting recently and, well this is finally completed

-----

It’s a typical Saturday night and the boys don’t have another game until Wednesday, somehow, someway, so you arrive at Scotiabank Arena dressed for the bar after and notice immediately that you aren’t the only one who’d made the choice to do so. 

“Ohhh.” Steph runs her fingers along the sleeve of your leather jacket as soon as you slip into the seat beside her. “I love this! New?”

You nod at her, but are already busy gushing over her sweater to answer anything else about the jacket, which you’d openly lusted over for months before your best friend had surprised you with it for your birthday a few weeks ago, despite your insistence to Auston that it was too much. 

Steph seems to have been waiting for you to arrive because as soon as you do, she flags down Alannah, who grins as soon as she sees you. “Wine o’ clock!” She cheers and you grin, standing and following the two of them to the closest spot in the club level for you each to get a glass.

It sets the tone for the evening, with the three of you giggly and tipsy by the time the game ends and you meet up with everyone in the lounge downstairs.  

“Oh boy.” Zach’s eyes widen almost comically, when he’s the first one to approach the three of you, coming out of the locker room fresh off his shower. Alannah straight up squeals when she sees her husband, throwing her arms around him like she hasn’t seen him in days or weeks, instead of like five hours, and you give the reaction the giggles it deserves, hearing Steph join in right behind you. “Oh boy.” Zach repeats, looking between the three of you.

“What’s going on?” Mitch asks, appearing at his side, with Auston and Will right behind him.

“It’s wine o’ clock, bitch!” Steph cheers, erupting into a fit of giggles, and that’s the last thing you remember.

-----

Considering how much your head is pounding the next morning, you’re just happy to wake up in a bed, even if you know right away that it isn’t your own. It takes you a few minutes to open your eyes, but you breathe a sigh of relief when you do, taking in the familiar sights of one of Steph and Mitch’s guest rooms.

Poor Mitch. You bite back a laugh, taking your time to sit up at the edge of the bed, and a couple deep breaths as it makes your headache even worse. You might not remember last night, but you know from prior experience that having to wrangle a drunk you and Steph back here was no easy task for him. You owe him big time. 

The two of them are both, unsurprisingly, already awake when you make your way downstairs, nursing large and larger cups of coffee. “Any more of that?” You ask hopefully, and Mitch snorts, while Steph points pathetically toward the counter.

There is, blessedly, a good portion of the pot still left, and still warm, and you pour it in a mug, hugging it toward your chest like the lifeline it’s about to be. “Sorry, Mitch.”

“You will be when you see the pictures.” Mitch says cheerfully, way too cheerfully for this early in the morning, especially considering how hungover you are.

You groan immediately, noticing Steph’s done the same only after she bangs her head against the counter and follows it with a soft, “Ow.”

“Where’s my phone?” You whine reluctantly. You might as well get the roast over with.

Your phone is hiding in the blankets of the bed you’d slept in, almost dead, where you’d apparently just thrown it at some point. Steph’s already back in the kitchen when you make your way down, her face paling even as she occasionally laughs at whatever she’s scrolling through.

Your own phone has more than a few messages with pictures from last night, as well as a few more chats that are blowing up with texts this morning, commenting from last night, but there’s one message that catches your eye. 

It’s from Auston, separate from any of the group chats, and it catches your eye because it’s just...not like a usual text he’d send you? you good? is the only thing he’s sent, no emojis, nothing, and it’s strange enough that you ignore the other incoming texts to explore through your phone a little to see what you could have done to get a text like that.

Instagram and Snapchat both yield nothing- embarrassing videos, sure, but nothing overly terrible- and the photos making their way through the texts are the same, but your call log is another story.

“Shit.” You groan, swiping back into your messages with your best friend. 

“What?” Steph asks.

“I called Auston, like, ten times last night.” You tell them, more focused on texting him. i’m sorryyyyy. didn’t mean to keep you up

it’s good. He sends back a few minutes later, and you frown, because as cool and chill as he might pretend to be, he’s not, and this is strange. 

couch movie day? You ask him. The coffee has done the trick; you at least feel like you could move, and there’s no better way to spend a hungover Sunday than with your best friend, lounging on his supremely comfortable couch. i’ll even agree to football if that’s what you so desire.

yeah alright, that sounds good. It’s punctuated with the fingers forming the ok sign emoji,though, and that, at least, is close enough to normal that you smile. You must have kept him up later than you even realized with your calls, for him to be so short with you.

“Alright lovelies.” You suck down the last bit of coffee and address your hosts. “Thanks for the bed last night. I owe you big time, Mitch.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll come collecting!” He teases.

“Headed to Auston’s though.” You press a kiss to Steph’s head and then Mitch’s as well. “Comfy sweats and a couch calling my name.”

——-

When you let yourself into your best friend’s place, it comes as almost no surprise to find a giant ginger sitting at the counter. “Freddie!” You beam, throwing your arms around him and regretting it pretty quickly, once your head starts to pound again. He starts to squeeze you, returning the hug, but you shake your head quickly. “Nope, don’t do that.”

“Alright, fair enough.” He laughs. “So rough night last night, huh?”

You level him with a look but he barely even blinks, and you sigh. “Where’s Auston?”

“Right here.” Your best friend is still shirtless as he walks out of his bedroom, yanking some ridiculous graphic tee over his head as he gets closer, which gives you the second you need to look away and take a breath after even just that tiny minute of exposure. Auston’s abs are honestly unfair and they are, objectively, not even his best feature. “Hey.” He gives you a nod, fixing the glasses he tries to pretend he’s too cool to actually need, refusing to wear them outside the house unless absolutely necessary, and you grin back; as annoyed as he may have seemed over text, he’s not acting that way at all now. 

“Is there coffee made?” You ask hopefully. Auston rolls his eyes at you, but nods over at his absurdly fancy machine, the one that had taken you about three months to figure out how to use. “Sweet, you’re amazing. I’m stealing that and then going to steal some sweats, okay?” You don’t even wait for him to respond, knowing it’ll be fine. Precedent is on your side here. Instead, you reach for a mug and address Freddie instead. “Fred, you joining?”

“Nah.” Freddie says, surprising you a bit. You’ve never known him to turn down a lazy Sunday. “You two have fun.” He says, giving you a knowing glance, which means he definitely caught you looking at Auston earlier, and it’s only the fact that Auston is standing right there that stops you from flipping Fred off on his way out the door.

It figures Freddie’s freaky goalie powers would be working now. Catches onto your more-than-best-friends-feelings for Auston, sure, but too oblivious to notice the hot neighbor in his building he’s crushing on is practically in love with him. Good one, Fred.

It’s barely a minute after Freddie clears out that you slip past Auston to go change, bringing your coffee mug along with you and reaching for your favorite pair of sweatpants the minute you enter his room. They’re old and perfectly worn, from his first year in the league, too small for Auston now, but just large enough for you to feel cozy in. One of his comfier sweatshirts completes your outfit for the day. Auston might be able to survive the day in a t-shirt, always radiating heat even as he complains about the Toronto cold, but fuck that, you were ready to be comfortable and nap through an afternoon of American football. 

Auston is already settled on the couch and if you weren’t so hungover, you’d throw yourself on him, just to be obnoxious, but as it is, you settle slowly onto the cushions beside him, and then lower your head to rest in his lap, frowning to yourself when you feel him tense. 

But it happens so quick; one minute his quads are tight underneath you and the next he’s relaxed again, you find yourself wondering if you imagined the entire thing. Maybe he wasn’t even annoyed with you this morning either; maybe you were just projecting your annoyance at the entire world onto him.

His hand moves to your hair, just like it always would, and you decide your hangover must have you paranoid. “How’s your fantasy team going to do today?” You mumble, already ready to fall back asleep.

Auston hums. “Good, I think. I play Willy this week and he’s a fucking disaster.” You giggle into his lap; his hand stills for a second, but then goes right back to playing with your hair. “Hey, uh, you-” Auston starts, but whatever he says next goes unheard by you, as you give into the sleep that’s been ready to overtake you since you settled onto his lap only moments ago.

-----

It’s hours later when you come to again and you only know this because whatever football game Auston has on is well into the second half. 

It takes you a few minutes to wake up again, slowly coming out of your sleepy state, before you realize that Auston’s talking to someone- quietly, but talking pretty freely- and it’s actually this that’s what has woken you up.

“Yeah it’s-” Auston cuts off frustratedly. He sounds kind of like he wants to be pacing but your head is still in his lap and his hand has moved from your hair to rest on your shoulder, brushing gentle strokes over the curve of it. “I just haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

Ohhh, juicy. You don’t want to listen in on Auston’s conversation; you know he’ll bring it up to you when he’s ready, but well, it’s hard not to. You can’t get up without alerting him that you’re awake already. You shut your eyes again tightly, focus on your breathing, and try to fall back asleep, but he’s talking again. “You don’t just get the fuck over that, Fred.” He hisses and ohhh, that sounds angry. You wonder what could have possibly happened to make him sound like that; the two of them never fight. “I would have gotten over her already if I could.”

And that’s the end of that for you. You’re already feeling sick enough today before hearing Auston and Fred talk about one of Auston’s girls. You squeeze your eyes closed tightly and re-double your efforts on trying to fall back asleep, concentrating on blocking out the sound of his voice. 

It works a lot better when you focus on how his hand feels on your shoulder, but it still feels like taking the L.

-----

The second time you wake that afternoon is much smoother. Your headache is basically gone, but the tradeoff is Auston’s thumb digging into your upper trap, which you ease off. “Sorry.” He winces, soothing that spot immediately and you don’t have to look up at the TV to know the Raiders have just done something terrible for his well being. 

“I’m hungry.” You whine at him and he laughs.

“Two minutes.” He responds, checking the time, which of course, turns into more like five, because the difference between “football time” and “real time” is fucking riduclous, but when the half does end, you sit up, the two of you swiping between food delivery apps to decide on dinner for the evening.

When you look up from your phone, Auston’s looking at you with a soft smile, that one you can’t let yourself look at for too long. “I’m gonna shower real quick, if you don’t mind?”

You’re already standing before he answers, but he nods, smile fading from his face a little. “Yeah, go for it.”

“Thanks.” You call, already moving towards the master bath, ready to steal a second pair of sweats for the day.

The shower is the distraction that you need, the step away from that smile that’s too close to everything that you want. The large walk-in a scalding reminder of every other girl who may have been in this position, of the girl who Auston wants to keep around in this position, the one girl who’s managed to do the thing hundreds of girls in Toronto thought was impossible. Auston’s soap smells bitter today, as you lather yourself in it, wondering how you became one of those girls.

You must have taken longer than you thought in the shower because the food’s arrived when you come back out. Auston’s unpacking the takeout bags onto the coffee table, with utensils ready. “Ohh, smells good.” You tug the long sleeves of his shirt over your hands, settling into the couch next to him again and watching him spread your takeout favorites out in front of the two of you. “Thank you.

Auston hums in response, passing you over your favorite dish ordered, the one that you love and he hates, and you only kind of watch him make a plate for himself, a mish-mash of options from the rest of the meals that you’d ordered, more focused on the plate of food in front of you, which is maybe why it’s a total surprise when he says, “We’re really just going to ignore you drunk-dialling me to tell me you love me?”

You choke. “What?”

Auston pales. “Uhh.” He freezes; his fork’s halfway to his mouth, but you can’t even chirp him for how lame he looks right now and it’s not even just because you apparently did something a hundred times more stupid. 

No, it’s because your mind is racing at the fact that you did do something a hundred times more stupid last night and you can’t even put together a coherent thought about that, let alone anything else. No fucking wonder he’s been strange all day.

“Uh.” Auston repeats. “You know what? Don’t worry about it.”

“Absolutely not!” You protest, words finally coming back to you. “What the fuck? God, I’m so sorry!” 

And somehow, that makes this worse? Auston’s shoulder’s tense, he looks extremely interested in his food suddenly. “I mean, it’s cool.” He shrugs, acting again too chill for the situation.

It’s a long moment before you respond, trying to gather your thoughts before you say something you don’t mean. “Is it though? Because you’ve been weird all day and I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, but, like, I can’t take it back now. So the best I can do is leave and like, let me know if you want to talk about it ever and promise not to make things super weird everytime I see you if you don’t want to talk about it.” You don’t realize you’ve stood up at some point in this chat, but Auston still hasn’t responded, and well, maybe it’s for the best that you’ve stood. 

You turn to leave, only for him to tug you back gently toward him, but he either pulls harder than he thinks or you’re just not expecting the tug, and you land in his lap instead of the couch. It’s hardly a graceful fall, with Auston having to loop his free hand behind your back to catch you, your nose bumping against his shoulder on the way down, and your legs folding under you unnaturally until you squirm around to fix them.

Auston’s barely breathing when you finally look up at him, a little annoyed that he’s still acting weird after what you said. “Could you-” He trails off. “Just sit still for a second please?” You give him a look, but settle down, stopping your movements, and he takes a deep breath, relaxing, finally. “I’m sorry if I’ve been weird all day, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you telling me you loved me.”

You huff at him, annoyed and ready to climb off his lap to storm out, but he tightens his grip on you, like he knows what you’re thinking. “You don’t have to rub it in.”

“I swear, I’m not!” His thumb slides up to brush a spot of skin between the waistband of the sweatpants and the oversized shirt. “I haven’t been about to stop thinking about that, and then you came in here, looking like you always do, in my clothes all day, and I’ve been trying so fucking hard not to ruin shit between us for months now,” Your eyes widen and your jaw drops as everything starts coming together. “Until last night, when you called me and left me that message and I thought maybe we were on the same page…”

“Except I didn’t remember doing it.” It pains you to even say it; you hate that he’s been feeling uncertain throughout the entire day. Uncertain and unsure and just...hanging. “Auston-” You reach your hand out to brush against his cheek.

“You didn’t even mention it.” He says. “Not in your texts, not once you got here. I thought...I thought you just wanted to carry on with things as normal, that you regretted saying it, or wanted to take it back completely?” He shakes his head, like he’s clearing his thoughts, but you don’t let him move away, putting your hand right back on his cheek.

“I mean, I wish I remembered saying it.” You tell him softly. “But I don’t think I’ll ever regret loving you.” 

“Good.” Auston says firmly, and you barely have time to grin in response to that before he’s tugging you closer in his lap and kissing you soundly. 

[miss-kittys-magical-library]

The Ides of March

(A Darren Treacy x Jeanie Turner mini-series)

Chapter 2 - Drunken Lullabies

Word Count- 1500

Warnings: language, minor drug and alcohol use, smut: oral sex (fem!receiving), sex

A/N: On Saint Patrick’s Day, Darren and Jeanie start receiving ominous, cryptic text messages claiming to be from the future. Play the game; save Darren. Jeanie’s rules are simple enough: If Dazz can catch her, he can have her any way and anywhere he wants. So how did a night of wild sex and whiskey lead to murder?

 Prologue      Chapter 1 

Darren started at his mobile willing it to do something. Anything. Ever since he stepped foot inside The Temple he became unsettled. The texts from earlier in the evening (as he and Tommy watched Siobhan spiral into a drugged out drunken mess) implored Darren to give a wide berth to Nidge and Git. Git the IRA kingpin whose son almost murdered Aido. Whose car in retaliation Darren bombed.

The texts warned whatever Jeanie said, or wanted him to do, he should. She was in as much danger as Darren now. So he played the red-head’s game.

Darren knew Jeanie came a bit undone by the divorce papers. How long could they have kept on like they were? In hotels and his gaff and once or twice at the parlor Fran and Nidge owned. Gordon’s women were never the same, but his wife was having a proper affair. What a blow to someone’s ego. They were just lucky it hadn't ended in someone getting shot. Again. You can't live without both lungs.

Now Darren nursed a beer in between several shots and a clandestine bump of something or other. He stopped keeping track the last few weeks. The club was doing a good job of drowning out his thoughts as the bass filled his brain. He caught sight of Jeanie, Siobhan, Gordon's sister Laura and Ewan (Jeanie's best friend from Scotland) thrashing away on the dancefloor to a No Doubt song.

That pile of red hair wild and untamed as she jumped and spun and shook her body, a bottle of cider precarious in her fingers. Their eyes caught and Jeanie wiggled her fingers for him to join them. Darren shook his head even as Siobhan joined in the enticement by grinding on his.. whatever she was. The women quickly kissed with passion, and faced him again. Dazz rolled his eyes and smiled, a smidge turned on, but found himself far too distracted by the phone.

Not much later, lost somehow in liquor and concentration, a shot slid past a handful of patrons and collided with Darren's knuckles. Perturbed, he glanced up as someone shouted from the far end of the bar. That ginger hair drenched and frizzy as a massive grin spread across Jeanie’s face.

“Catch me if you can!!”

Darren's phone buzzed; he nearly pissed his pants. A text came through. He checked to see if it was Red, but she had vanished as quickly as she had arrived.

She bought a shot for a guy the first time around. American, like her. They danced and drank and fucked in the toilets. That's where she is. Third floor in the rooftop bar. It's empty.

Darren scratched his head and made his way upstairs without hesitation. He found the ladies and knocked feeling stupid. Before Jeanie could answer, he opened the door to find her leaning forward to reapply something in a giant bamboo vanity. Her breasts pushed together in the corset were on full display as she caught him staring in the mirror.

“Damn, I thought that would be harder.” She pursed her lips and winked. Her hands were anchored on either side of a small sink; her eyes were heavy lidded. She lowered herself slightly so that her ass stuck out and glanced right back at Darren. “Guess you're just gonna have to fuck me.”

In two long strides, Darren was behind Jeanie. His face got lost in her hair as he let his hand caress her neck. He squeezed but only for a moment. Just a taste. She muffled a moan before his fingers slid inside the soft leather of her top so that he could fondle and pinch a nipple. Then the other as he kissed and bit her bare shoulder.

“Fucking me from behind so we can watch in the mirror?” Jeanie pushed herself against Darren's easily produced erection. She took his free hand and slipped it beneath her pleated skirt.

“I t’ought I’d fuck ye another way,” he growled in her ear. Darren pumped his fingers in and out of Jeanie to make her wet. Except no work was really needed for that either. “Are ye just ready for me all the time? Spread your legs,” he demanded.

Jeanie went along with what he wanted. She widened her stance so that her feet were shoulder width apart. Darren grinned and got down on his knees behind her. His face level with her ass which he exposed by lifting her skirt. She gave a sharp inhale.

Before she could talk, Darren bent to kiss the backs of Jeanie's thighs. His lips warm on her bare skin where he tore her fishnets earlier. They traveled up over her ass and under the pleats. He alternated from one cheek to the next with dramatic kisses that felt like his entire mouth. That heavy, punctuated breath like every time they had sex formed goosepimples every inch of Jeanie's body.

“Ohhhh,” it was a sigh as Darren kept at it. “Ohhh,” she repeated with a moan at the sensation of his tongue on her ass and thighs.

A third time she repeated the same sentiment when he switched positions from being behind Jeanie to between her legs. His back to the vanity and sink. Head underneath her skirt now while Darren's hands dug into the same curves and softness he had been kissing moments before.

“I t’ought,” his words jumbled by fabric and thighs. The air hot on her sex while he spoke, “You could sit on my face.”

Jeanie tried to brace herself on the sink top. Her hands slid forward as Darren snaked his tongue inside. He flicked it back and forth a few times before withdrawing it and sucking on her slit. He kissed it like he did her mouth before replacing his lips with his tongue. He dragged it painfully, slowly along the outside. Then it dipped in and out.

Unable to balance completely, Jeanie made a poor attempt at steadying herself with fingers wrapped up in Darren's hair. Or what he had left. The thought made Jeanie laugh even as she panted and her breathing quickened. The tip of his tongue collided with her clit finally, and she pulled his head forward.

Darren worked hungrily now. His lips and tongue in a frenzy while Jeanie started to rock into his face. It was like the faster he made his mouth go, the quicker he could get his prize. Making Jeanie cum was always a gift. Not for her. For him.

As his jaw began to ache with the pace he set, Darren thought about every time Jeanie got off. Real or not, sometimes he caught the signs it was actually happening. Like how the hood around her clit would contract against his finger or tongue. How it did now as she cried out “Fuck!” and came as her back arched out of reflex with her thighs tightened around his face. He wasn't quite sure he ever noticed before her.

Darren wasn't exactly drowning in sexual experience. He had been with maybe another girl besides Rosie and Jeanie. He knew Rosie wasn't keen on experimenting or showing him how she liked it. So Darren had to improv. Maybe half the time she got off.

He definitely wasn't into the prostitutes at the cathouse like Tommy and Nidge and Elmo. So the way Jeanie actually had orgasms motivated Darren to do it more. Better. She always told him what to do, how hard or fast or what to touch. Darren could make her cum multiple times. It was an ego trip.

How long could he keep Jeanie in the ladies to make sure she was safe? The texts never said how, but his phone vibrated in his back pocket. He ignored it.

Darren's brain was muddled with thought as Jeanie lowered herself just above his lap. She started to undo his belt and pants to free his cock which she hovered over. He held the edge of the counter above his head as she sank down on his erection. Her knees on either side of him and started to ride as quick and rough as his mouth fucked her before. Darren couldn't stop her as her mouth consumed his own to taste the orgasm still on his lips.

They could only have so much sex. Darren's chest was starting to hurt, and he knew Jeanie's legs probably wouldn't work too well tomorrow. There had to be someplace more comfortable they could wait out the rest of the night.

“Stop. Stop.” he held Jeanie's body fast. “I need a breather. One lung. This is painful as fuck, darling. I know someplace softer we can go.”

Tag list: @robertsheehanownsmyass @forenschik @slutforrobbiebro @badsext @bwritesstuff @elliethesuperfruitlover @super-unpredictable98 @nightmonsters @rob-private

[mindfulwrathwrites]

Powered (Excerpt): Meet “Cute”

The first appearances of two of our main cast!

Words: 1,931 Warnings: Alcohol use, classism

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...

Lupe was having the luckiest bad day of their life, and if it didn't let up soon, they were going to collapse from the stress.

First, it had been the flooding—an event that easily could have killed a dozen people or more, but from which Lupe had escaped without getting so much as a toe in the water. Then it was getting trapped in the swanky office building, where they were sure to get caught and arrested, only to see on the news that the only thing stopping them from leaving was some weirdo up on the roof. And then, it was ARCOM's killer robot and its—handler?—which had almost shot Lupe dead on the spot but decided not to at the last second, instead chasing off after the weirdo in the mask and opening, however unintentionally, Lupe's escape.

So Lupe had hidden in the stairwell in case the Division showed up before the water cleared (they hadn't), and had taken the back-alleys and underpasses out of downtown in case the regular cops were looking for them (they weren't), and was now holed up in a booth at the back of the one Powered bar in Albuquerque, accompanied only by the tinnitus ringing in their ears, nursing a gin and tonic and supposing they ought to feel relieved.

They didn't.

An acrylic nail tapping on the table brought them back to the present. Their favorite bartender, Jess, was standing table-side, rainbow dreadlocks bright against dark skin.

"Starting to pick up in here, honey," she said. "You might wanna start thinking about heading out, before you lose all your elbow room."

"You can't just let me out the back again?" Lupe asked.

"I'd love to, except Cindy's working tonight, and she's been looking for an excuse to fire me."

"Is Cindy the racist one?"

"Take a wild guess."

Lupe winced. "Okay. Thanks for letting me know. Is it okay if I finish my drink first, or. . . ?"

"You got time. I'll get you a lemonade to go so we ain't just kicking you out. On the house."

"Are you sure? You don't have to."

She pressed a hand to her chest and sighed hugely. "If I don't, you might leave us a bad review."

"I couldn't even if I wanted to," they said.

"It's a joke, we're already drowning in bad reviews from normies. Zero stars, service was terrible and it was full of mutants, I felt sooooo threatened when everybody got mad at me for calling them slurs."

Lupe snorted. "Has that happened?"

"Weekly, honey, weekly."

"I'm sorry."

She grinned. "It's all good. They never stick around too long." She tapped her nail on the table again, and a breath of blue flame rolled up the back of her hand. "Lemme get you that lemonade before I forget."

Lupe gave her a lazy, two-finger salute as she moved off. They sucked down a few good gulps of their gin and tonic. Maybe Jess had gone a little heavy on the gin, or maybe it was just that Lupe hadn't eaten in almost twenty-four hours, but it was hitting them harder than usual. They checked their pockets for change and found about four dollars—and since they were getting kicked out before they could get another drink, maybe they'd go get a burger, instead. As they stuffed the cash back in their pocket, somebody pulled up to their booth.

"Mind if I join you?"

He was white, mousy, and freckly, with short-cropped brown hair and a midwestern accent. He was wearing thick-rimmed glasses, a green flannel over a band T-shirt, dark jeans washed a few too many times. He had a drink in each hand.

"I—I was actually just leaving, sorry, it's all yours," said Lupe, scooching outward.

The guy's face fell. "You were?"

"Yeah, it just—I just have to—" They cast around for Jess, but she was nowhere to be seen. They didn't need the free lemonade, anyway; they should get out of here while they could, before this poor guy put a foot in the wrong place and got electrocuted.

"I guess I have to drink both of these, now," he sighed, looking down at the two drinks. One was a beer. The other was clear and bubbly and had a slice of orange in it.

"Well," said Lupe. They fidgeted. "You weren't—you didn't—did you. . . ?"

He offered the cocktail to them. "It was supposed to be for you," he said hopefully.

Lupe fidgeted some more. The room wasn't too crowded yet, and one drink couldn't hurt, especially if it was free. Jess was up at the bar now, busy with a large group of young women that had just come in. Lupe gestured to the other side of the booth.

"I'll save you from the spare drink," they said. "Just be careful where you put your feet, I run at a pretty lethal voltage."

The guy stopped halfway to sitting down. He stared. Lupe shrugged.

"No wonder you're back here all by yourself," the guy said faintly.

"Yeah," said Lupe. "It's fine if you—"

The guy slid the rest of the way into the booth and pulled his feet up after him, sitting cross-legged. With one finger, he pushed the cocktail across to Lupe.

"It's a Tom Collins," he said. "You struck me as the ginny type."

"That—that's a nine-dollar drink," Lupe objected, torn between being flattered and gravely suspicious.

"Yeah," said the guy. He gestured to his own. "And this is a three-dollar beer, split the difference."

Lupe struggled for words. They looked from the cocktail to the guy and back again. They swirled the tiny straws around in case it stirred up any suspicious white powder, which it didn't.

"What did you say your name was?" Lupe asked the guy.

"Zach," he said. "He/him pronouns, if anybody's counting."

"Oh—oh," said Lupe. Something fluttered in their chest, a sigh of relief. "I'm Lupe. Um. They/them."

"Pleased to meet you," said Zach. "I'd shake your hand, but—"

"Yeah, don't—don't do that. So, you—so—you're . . . Powered? I mean, Watt's, it's sort of—it's not like they card you, and if that's too personal, obviously, you don't have to answer, I just. . . ."

"Barely," Zach said, amused but taking pity. "Just enough to make my normie friends nervous."

"Do you mind if I ask what it is?"

"Eh, sure. You showed me yours, I'll show you mine."

In the blink of an eye, he was gone—into thin air, without so much as a puff of smoke or a flash of light. Before Lupe had gotten done being surprised, though, he was back, scrunching his nose like he needed to sneeze.

"That's not barely," said Lupe, astounded.

"No, it doesn't work like you think it does. For example—cameras. It doesn't work on cameras, for some reason. I'm like a reverse-vampire or something. And it gives me migraines if I hold it for more than a minute or so."

"Ohhh, yeah, that—that's not great. I guess it's fun at parties?"

"It's the best at parties," Zach said viciously, grinning. "I hate parties. And now nobody can make me stay, because as soon as nobody's looking, I can literally disappear."

Lupe chuckled and had a sip of their cocktail. It was mild and delicious, like a carbonated gin-lemonade, and there was no hint of a salty Rohypnol aftertaste. Maybe, they thought, this guy really was just being nice.

"Silver linings?" they said. "I don't know, I haven't been to a party in . . . Christ, probably twenty years."

Zach sucked in a breath through his teeth, wincing. "Yeah, what with the voltage and everything, I guess that's probably a little fraught. Don't worry, you're not missing much. Parties suck."

"But bars don't?"

"So long as there's no parties going on in them."

Lupe stirred their drink, being careful not to touch the table. At the bar, Jess was entertaining the group of young women, lighting their drinks on fire with her fingers (to their great delight). Zach watched them, amused, his chin on his hand, his beer untouched.

"Um," said Lupe. "I um. Look, before, um . . . I appreciate the drink, and the—the company, but I just want to make it clear that I'm not really, um, interested in—in—not that you're not—but I'm, sort of, very asexual? So—"

Zach turned back to them, startled. "What? No, no, that's not what this is about. I'm straight."

"You're what?" said Lupe. Their face went hot. "Oh, no, of course, right, I just—"

"Not that you're not a good-looking guy—sorry, person. You're just not my type."

"No, yeah, same, but I just kind of . . . forgot about straight people. Hahah."

"You don't get out much, huh," said Zach, with that same amused-pity look from before.

"I'm homeless, I'm always out," said Lupe, and then realized that it was a top-tier idiot thing to say.

"Holy shit, seriously?" Zach said. "You don't look—okay, you kind of do look homeless, but I figured that was just a fashion choice."

"And you don't look like an ignorant dick, but here we are," Lupe retorted. Maybe they'd had a little too much to drink. Whatever. A remark like that deserved a little snappishness.

Zach winced. "Okay, I deserved that," he said. "But—man, that's rough. Do you need a place to stay, or something? I could put you up at a hotel for a couple of days, or—"

"Don't, just—don't," Lupe sighed, holding up a hand. "It doesn't work. Unless you can find a hotel that doesn't use keycards, it won't work. Just—forget I said anything."

"Are you sure?" Zach pressed. "You could stay at my place, if you needed to. Not forever, I'm kind of already maxed out on roommates, but for a while. Until you get—"

"Get my feet back underneath me?" Lupe filled in. "Sure, I just have to find a job where they don't require you to touch any computers, machines, or other people. Oh, and it has to be no-experience-required, too, and no high school diploma, and not need a physical address or an ID or a phone number, and and and. It won't happen. Trust me."

Zach stared at them, full-pity, looking like a lost puppy in the rain. Lupe shook their head and muttered in Spanish under their breath and looked someplace else. The pity was always the hardest to take.

"Well—do you want dinner, then?" Zach asked. "I could buy you dinner, at least."

"I don't want your goddamn charity," Lupe snapped. A bolt cracked off their wrist and earthed in the center of the table. Someone shrieked. Zach froze, whey-faced. The smell of burnt lacquer rose in a plume. Lupe ground their teeth and took deep breaths and waited for the whine in their ears to soften. Before it did, Jess sidled over.

"Hey, honey," she said. "Hate to butt in, but I think it's about time for you to be heading on out."

"Yeah," said Lupe. They abandoned the rest of their cocktail and got up, dizzy. "Sorry about the table."

"Don't worry about it. You ain't hardly the worst thing that's happened to a table in here."

They faked a smile, nodded to her, and headed for the door. Despite the crowd, a wide path opened for them. Every eye in the place watched as they went.

[kaen-ace-of-diamonds]

In Nitrous Veritas

Words: 5700+ (oneshot)

Genre: Fluff/Romance

Pairing: Hakuei/Paimon, background Judal/Hakuryuu

Characters: Ren Hakuei, Paimon, Ren Hakuryuu, Judal (technically), Ren Gyokuen

Summary: When her girlfriend has to be put under anesthesia for the first time, Paimon is a nervous wreck thinking of what might go wrong. She doesn't stop to consider that everything could go perfectly right, in more ways than expected.

...Or, the one where having her wisdom teeth removed unlocks Hakuei's full gay potential.

(Takes place in @mayelamker‘s and my RA Family AU!)

~0~

Paimon still looked very suspicious at her lack of concern.

“Hakuei, they are going to yank your bones out with pliers.”

Hakuei resisted the urge to sigh in annoyance. Again. 

“It’s fine, Paimon. I’m just getting my wisdom teeth out. It happens to everyone, no need to worry. And no need to press so hard on the gas, either.”

“Yeah, the turn’s coming up right there,” added Hakuryuu from the backseat. “And they don’t use pliers, they use...regular stuff.”

Paimon grumbled unintelligibly as she pulled into the office parking lot, but didn’t say anything else until after they had filed into the oral surgeon’s waiting room, checked in, and sat down. She fidgeted in the rough cushioned chair, one Ren sibling on either side of her, and after a few minutes opened her mouth to say something else. 

Accustomed to this after weeks of her poor girlfriend’s fretting, Hakuei laid a hand on top of hers and murmured before she could respond, “I’ll be fine, hon. Don’t worry.”

“...I’ll worry anyway. Routine or not, anything could go wrong, you’ve never been under anesthetic before!” Her lips twitched as if she wanted to chew at one, but she resisted the impulse. “It could be like that movie — you know the one where they cut Anakin Skywalker’s heart out? Or that one X-Files episode — ”

“Hakuei Ren?” the nurse said from the doorway, and Paimon jumped as if she had shouted it. Hakuei gave her a quick peck on the cheek and squeezed her hand, before letting it go and standing up. 

Hakuryuu, earbuds firmly in, lifted his head from his notebook to nod to his sister as she crossed the spacious waiting room. “Good luck.” 

Hakuei gave the two a reassuring smile as the nurse led her into the hall and closed the door behind them. The last thing she saw before it shut was Paimon, swallowing a whimper as she watched her go, and she felt a small pang of guilt in her chest. Maybe she shouldn’t have tried to brush off all Paimon’s fears so easily...But it would be fine. When she got out of surgery, she’d make up for it somehow.

~0~

For the next forty-five minutes, the waiting room was in a sluggish state. Patients passed through, but Paimon barely saw or heard any of them. The rapid, muffled tapping of her heeled boot against the carpeted floor as her leg bounced nervously was unceasing. She had tried to distract herself with her phone, but an email notification from her own doctor’s office made her jump, and she’d shoved it back in her pocket where it stayed. That was the last thing she needed right now.

Having drifted out of awareness of her surroundings so, it took a few calls of her name before she recognized the word and looked up.

“Hey.” Hakuryuu held a Hershey bar in one hand and a Snickers in the other, and was offering the latter out to her. One earbud was still in, the other hanging loose over the front of his sweater, and she could hear the faint strains of violins streaming from it. “You hungry? Because you’re not acting like you.”

Paimon rolled her eyes as she accepted the candy. “Great. Hakuryuu’s a comedian and Hakuei’s ignoring me now.”

Hakuryuu snorted as he sat back down and returned to his science notes. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“You are the last person I want to hear that from,” Paimon declared with an aggressive bite of her Snickers. 

Hakuryuu gave her a ‘that’s fair’ tilt of his head, but pressed on anyway. “She knows you love her, and that’s why you worry. She knows.”

“Hmph. Never thought I’d see me more worried about her than you.”

“I’ve had mine out already, and I can rest in the assurance that it can’t possibly be as bad as my operation was,” Hakuryuu reminded her, grimacing. “I’ve always had issues with anesthesia, and they were all in there so damn deep. It hurt so much that even my mother didn’t have a joke to make about it.”

Paimon, who had repeatedly borne witness to Ren Gyokuen’s great love for making fun of her sons, immediately understood the significance of this. 

“And I’m trying to be less panicky in general, anyway. Hakuyuu says it isn’t good for my blood pressure,” he continued, with the haughty tone and slight upswing of the head he always took when repeating the words of his older siblings. It never failed to sound as if he were quoting a sacred text, and it never failed to make Paimon stifle a laugh. Now was no exception.

“...What?” Hakuryuu’s brows furrowed in confusion and mild offense. “Something funny?”

“No, no, nothing, I was just, uh...thinking maybe I shouldn’t have brought up Anakin Skywalker to prove my point?” she offered.

“Oh. Well, you should still do what Yuu said, too. It will probably help.”

“Fine, fine,” she said, trying not to smile. “Fine, then. I’ll try to relax. Get my blood pressure down.”

“You promise?”

“Hell no,” said Paimon immediately, taking another nibble of her chocolate and knowing better than to make a promise she couldn’t keep. 

And it was well that she did. Not two minutes later, a nurse opened the door again to inform them, “Miss Ren is in the recovery room, if you’ll come with me?”, and Paimon inhaled the remainder of the Snickers bar as she leapt to her feet, eyes going wide.

Hakuryuu rose more slowly, and asked the nurse as they proceeded down the hall, “How did she do?”

“Oh, just fine. She’ll be pretty loopy for the next few hours, and she’ll need you, Miss Naifeh, to look after her closely until the effects of the gas wear off.”

Paimon nodded vigorously, heels clacking on the tile floor. “I can do that.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s all she wants to do,” Hakuryuu added, slipping his earbuds case into his pocket with one hand and patting Paimon’s shoulder with the other. Not as nice as Hakuei shoulder pats, she decided, but it would do. “Walk, don’t run, okay?”

Paimon nodded again, but that did not stop her from jumping when the nurse opened the door to a side room and she could see Hakuei, looking considerably less together than she had when they had arrived. She was lying like a wet leaf against the large padded doctor’s chair, the room’s only real feature, with vacant eyes and a mouthful of red-stained gauze. She had known that this was how she was going to find her, but she still had to quickly bite her lip to keep from yelping.

The nurse stayed with them as they stepped inside, and with all three of them in there, it was something of a tight squeeze. Paimon heard her talking, Hakuryuu responding and shuffling around with something, but she barely registered any of it.

“Hakuei?” she said, stepping up to the chair. “Sweetie? Can you hear me?”

Hakuei twitched at the sound of her voice, and her head roved slowly around to its source. Her pupils were so huge that Paimon could barely see the rim of blue around them.

“Ohh...” she breathed, somehow both clear and dazed. “Oh, you’re so pretty.” 

She said it with such awe that Hakuryuu snorted behind his hand and Paimon felt her face heat right up.

“Uh...Yeah,” she responded intelligently. “You are, too.”

Hakuei nodded slowly, as if this was a brilliant point. “Who are you?”

“H-Huh?!” Paimon startled. “Me? You know who I am!”

“No need to be alarmed, miss,” the nurse said, while Hakuei gave her a supremely puzzled look. “She got quite a heavy dose of nitrous oxide, so I told you she’ll be out of it for a while. But it’s not at all permanent.”

“Oh...” Paimon shifted her feet nervously. “So what do I — ”

Hakuryuu rolled his eyes. “Just talk to her. You — ”

“You’re beautiful,” Hakuei cut in loudly, as if she couldn’t hear or see anyone but Paimon. “Who are you?”

Paimon found a smile on her face in spite of herself. “I’m Paimon,” she reminded her, loud and clear. “I’m your girlfriend.”

Paimon hadn’t thought it possible for Hakuei’s eyes to go any wider, but go wider they did, as her mouth shaped into a perfect O of shock. The nurse promptly reached over to nudge the gauze back into place, but Hakuei didn’t seem to notice.

“My? You’re my girlfriend?!” 

“Yeah,” Paimon blurted again. Hakuei was a naturally affectionate person, but Paimon was still wholly unused to being gazed upon like she was a divine being. “Yeah, I am!”

“Ohhh.” Her hand twitched over towards Paimon’s on the arm of the chair, and Paimon took it and held it delicately in hers. “Oh, that’s amazing. That’s just amazing!”

Paimon giggled, surprising herself, and it was easy to slip back into a familiar teasing, loving tone. “Nooo, you are.”

“No, you, you’re...!” Hakuei shook her head so hard in defense of her point that she swayed dizzily for a moment, her face turning slightly ashen. “Oh, whoa, don’t like that...” 

Paimon took her shoulders in her hands to still her. “Hey, it’s okay. Just relax, I’ve got you.”

“Wow, you’re an angel...!”

“This angel’s here to take you home, come on...”

“Home?” Hakuei staggered a little, as she was helped up out of the chair. “We have a home?”

“Yeah. You put all those ceramic vases and flowers and weird pattern wall blankets everywhere. You think it gives the place character.”

“Does it?” Hakuei asked, eyes big and bright as the blue galaxy painting in their bedroom.

Truthfully, Paimon could take it or leave it, on its own. Her eye was for fashion and body art, not interior design. But all the stuff kept Hakuei in their home even when the woman herself was gone, and the calm that brought Paimon surpassed beauty.

“It’s the best place in the whole world.”

Hakuei made a soft, comforted chirruping noise at the back of her throat. Her legs were gelatinously shaky and her arms hung in the air in front of her like a T-Rex’s, as Paimon guided her back down the short hallway back into the waiting room. She seemed more interested in trying her best to fall against Paimon’s side than she was in walking.

“Oh...Oh, you are just a wonder, you are...” Hakuei was nuzzling at her neck and collarbone, while Paimon and Hakuryuu waited at the checkout desk listening to the receptionist’s short spiel about post-surgery care. Despite the newly limited ability to move her mouth and speak coherently, she was determined to keep talking. “Did I tell you about that before? I should.”

“Yeah, of course you have,” Paimon assured her, knowing damn well that that was not on Hakuei’s extensive list of sweet words, while trying to keep up with the receptionist. “Yeah, we got the painkiller prescription — she can eat that soon? Then yeah, I can start her on liquids when we get home, so — ”

“I’m glad. I should,” Hakuei said again, sounding fascinated by the very concept and still blissfully ignorant of all that was not Paimon. “I can’t tell you anything through all these...fluffy peanuts in my head...”

Then, if Paimon had been paying attention, she would have noticed the expression that suddenly struck Hakuei’s face: that of one who has just been visited with a life-changing epiphany. And she would have seen it coming when Hakuei’s head shot upward to kiss her far harder than was probably intended, right on the jawline.

“Oof!” Paimon stumbled for a moment, her arm reflexively tightening around Hakuei’s waist. Hakuryuu and the receptionist both glanced up in concern, but quickly shifted to trying not to laugh at Paimon’s predicament. “Take it easy on me, honey.”

Hakuei gave her some truly devastating puppy dog eyes in response. 

“You mean I can’t kiss you through these fucking peanuts either?!” she cried, and Hakuryuu went red and burst into laughter.

“Shh, yeah, those have got to stay in, babe. I’ll take care of all the kisses for now, too, okay?” Paimon said through her own fit of giggles, planting one on Hakuei’s cheek to prove it.

Hakuei whimpered. “Didn’t even feel that...”

“All set,” Hakuryuu managed, while he fiddled with the phone in his slacks pocket some more. “Come on, let’s get going.”

“Feel better soon, Miss Ren!” chirped the receptionist, waving with a set of long cyan nails, and Hakuei spun around so fast Paimon was momentarily afraid she’d fall right out of her grasp. 

“This is my wife!” she shouted, and it damn near echoed off the waiting room walls. The elderly lady in the corner said nothing, but did grin into her knitting magazine. Hakuei, on the other hand, kept at it: “This is my wife Paimon! She’s the best ever!” 

From Hakuryuu’s gleeful snickering as he one-handedly held the door open for them, Paimon could only assume that the look of shock on her face was truly priceless. “N-No, honey, remember? I’m your girlfriend.” 

Hakuei just grinned, entirely unfazed, and Paimon had to stick the gauze back into position in her mouth yet again. “Oh? Then I’ve still got to make you my wife, huh?”

“Huh?!” Oh, Paimon had to put every bit of focus into not tripping straight over the curb on that one. 

“Yeahhhh...” In all the years they’d known each other, Paimon had never seen such a smug smile on Hakuei’s face. She was partially remembering how to work her arms, and using them to cling to Paimon’s waist in a vice-grip of a hug, which would have been nice if it didn’t mean they were in danger of falling all over each other as Hakuryuu brought her car over to the edge of the sidewalk. “Paimon, I wanna marry you!”

Paimon was very grateful that she didn’t blush, because she felt her cheeks burning something fierce. “Not saying I don’t agree with you, hon, but — ”

“You don’t want to?”

“No, I’d love to, honey, I just...” Paimon sighed, as she dislodged her girlfriend from her waist and bundled her into the passenger seat of the car. “Let’s just save that question for when you’re sober, okay?”

Hakuei glared up at her as sharply as she could, edges dulled as they were by copious amounts of drugs. “I’m not drunk!”

“No, you’re not, my mistake,” Paimon laughed. “Just wait until we get home, then, okay?”

While she got in, took the wheel, and started to drive them out of the medical park, Hakuei busied herself pawing at her empty jeans pocket. “Where’s my phone? I’ll get us home...”

Hakuei’s phone was, as per her sober request that morning, lying safely on their nightstand at home, where it could not be used to send any potentially embarrassing messages. “I know the way, hon, don’t worry.”

“Would you drop me off at the mall first, though?” asked Hakuryuu from his new seat in the back. “I promised Judal I’d meet him there.”

While Paimon agreed, mentally calculating their new route, Hakuei’s head jerked backward, looking shocked to realize that there was someone else with them. “Oh! I’ve met you!”

Hakuryuu grinned. In the rearview mirror, Paimon noticed him holding his phone upright. “Yeah, you do know me. Who am I?”

Hakuei’s face screwed up in concentration. “You’re...we have the same name.”

“Not quite. What’s my name?”

“Uhh...Haku...yuu?”

“Nooot quite,” Hakuryuu snickered. “You missed a letter.”

“No, I didn’t! I have a brother Hakuyuu!” Hakuei froze, and then let out a dramatic gasp. “Oh my god, I have brothers!”

Hakuryuu’s raucous laughter filled the car, and Paimon was struck with another giggling fit. “Yes, you do, babe,” she said, grinning as she turned onto the expressway exit. “You’re getting your memory back fast.”

“I lost those?!”

“Don’t worry about it.”

~0~

After dropping Hakuryuu off at the mall food court, where he was excitedly ushered over by Judal (waving with both arms to make up for his huge mouthful of cheesy pretzel nuggets), Paimon got back on the expressway towards their apartment complex. Hakuei’s father, bless him, had offered to at least assist in paying their rent. But it wasn’t an exorbitant luxury place like the Ren family home, and between both of their jobs, they managed expenses well enough on their own. Hakuei had always been a little embarrassed about being born a rich girl, and Paimon would have felt weird too, asking for handouts from her future father-in-law. 

In-law...

Paimon glanced over at Hakuei, now quietly whimpering to herself in the passenger seat as she tentatively poked at her own sore jaw. They had talked about their love before, of course, how could they not? They were both fairly free with affection in their own ways. But they’d never really talked about marriage, and she was wondering now if that had been a mistake, just drifting along like that after all these years. Hakuei hadn’t gotten drunk enough to spill her guts like that since college, and laughing gas wasn’t exactly like alcohol. Still, in vino veritas: maybe Hakuei had had more on her mind lately than Paimon had realized. More than she was willing to let on...

When they parked in front of their building and left the car, the gas had worn off not completely, but just enough to make Hakuei aware that there were now four bleeding wounds in the back of her mouth. “Ungh...Paimon...”

“Shh, it’s okay, honey. You’re walking great, just stick close to me...”

The stairs to the third floor were slightly perilous (the ascent made poor Hakuei dizzy again), but with some more clinging and low moaning they made it through the door. Their bedroom was at the back of the place. With one quick stop to the freezer for ice packs, Paimon guided Hakuei there and laid her gently down on the neatly made covers, the throne of pillows she’d put together that morning to keep her head elevated. She tucked a soft throw blanket over her, and leaned down to lay a kiss on her temple.

“There. You okay, sweetheart?”

Hakuei’s eyes were still dark and hazy, pupils dilated with the residual high. But as Paimon continued to tend to her — removing the blood-soaked gauze and replacing it with clean folds, wrapping a neck pillow around her head to hold the ice packs against her jaw — they glittered with starry affection while she tried to smile up at her. 

“‘Mmm fine...You’re fine...You’re...”

Paimon ran gentle fingers through Hakuei’s loose hair, warmth swelling in her chest. “You’re the most beautiful woman in the world, you know that?”

“Aww, you’re just saying that!”

“Oh, no, I mean it. You just rest now, okay? I’ll be checking on you to change your gauze and ice, so don’t feel like you have to wake up for it, okay?”

“Soon?” Hakuei murmured, body limp and eyes drooping shut as Paimon got up and turned the light down. 

“Yeah. I’ll be back soon.”

She couldn’t sleep off the pain, sadly; they had been informed that Hakuei was in for about a week of recovery time. But she could sleep off the hold of the gas, and while she did, Paimon made herself busy. 

She left the bedroom door halfway open so she could keep a watchful eye on her sleeping beauty, as she set about doing the morning chores that she had been too fretful to do in the actual morning. She dusted and Magic Eraser-ed, did the dishes, mopped the kitchen and bathroom tile. Somewhat unnecessarily, too, she arranged the food in their fridge (none of which was anywhere near old or spoilt enough to toss) and triple checked to make sure that she had all the ingredients necessary to fix up some soft meals, ice cream, and smoothies to soothe her girlfriend’s ailing mouth, when she felt able to try and eat. She had enough to snack on herself, as well.

So when there was nothing more to occupy her brain, Paimon sat on the freshly dried kitchen counter to work through a small bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream, liberally drizzled with chocolate sauce, and finally let herself dwell on the thoughts she had been trying to avoid. 

She and Hakuei had lived together for years, and been together even longer. They had settled into a comfortable routine, and life wasn’t exactly a lazy river (that was impossible, between both their families), but it was great. Content and loving. Paimon had never felt anything more right in her whole life than coming home to Hakuei’s open arms. Of course she intended to stay by her beloved’s side for as long as she was welcome there; she no longer cared to imagine her path going any other way. So why did the thought of making their bond official — making it legal — send such a ripple through her body?

The first theory she hit upon was that she was just taken by surprise and blowing it all out of proportion. Again. Life, especially their life, was no cheap whirlwind romance, no trashy drama. Even in their families, that was a reach. Exactly what kind of disaster was she expecting the words “Hakuei, will you marry me?” to bring? 

Barring storm, fire, terrorist attack, runaway semi truck — no, no, no, she was already starting to feel her pulse pounding, she had to stay realistic here. The worst thing that could conceivably happen at their wedding was Hakuei’s mother getting wine drunk at the reception, either sobbing all over her only daughter or starting a fistfight with her twin and having to be dragged out by her sons, and to be wholly honest the former was likelier than the latter. 

And if she was being wholly honest, they were good at this stuff, if having a healthy relationship could be considered a skill. Sharing responsibilities, working out disagreements, supporting one another, simply finding happiness in each other...They had it pretty well down, in her opinion, as well as any two people could do. Their feelings for each other weren’t set to change anytime soon, no matter what they did with their lives.

Thoughts of death and disaster she would banish from her mind one way or another. Her future brothers-in-law were right: it would do nothing but raise her blood pressure, and she refused to ruin this relationship with a premature heart attack of all things. It was change, that was all. A big one, but a natural one. Looking at it as rationally as she could, perhaps it wasn’t quite as big a hurdle to clear as she had feared it might be. Perhaps it was no such thing at all.

A small noise from back in the bedroom drew Paimon’s attention, and she set the half-finished bowl on the counter to go and attend to her beloved.

Hakuei was still lying out on the bedcovers, awkwardly holding her head and tensed in every muscle. The pain must be starting to make itself known, Paimon realized. 

She stepped softly up to the bedside, taking a moment to remove the gauze before reaching down to lay a gentle hand on Hakuei’s shoulder. “Hey. How’re you feeling, hon?”

Hakuei murmured incoherently for a moment, before opening her eyes a fraction and trying yet again to smile up at Paimon. It was a shaky attempt, but passable. “Sober.”

Paimon laughed. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. Hurts — my mouth and head hurt a lot — but the cold is nice. Really nice,” she explained drowsily. 

“We’re going to be replacing those every twenty minutes, okay? And you just tell me when you feel up to me fixing that bowl of ice cream you ordered this morning. You need to take your medicine with food.”

“Okay...”

“Attagirl. You mind if I come down there and hang out with you?” When Hakuei gave her a short and careful nod, still wincing when her swollen jaw did not agree with the movement, Paimon settled down on the covers next to her and reached her arms questioningly out. “In the mood for a cuddle, or are you gonna puke on me if I touch you?”

Before she was even finished talking, Hakuei was already snuggling up to her as closely as her ice-wrapped face would permit. “I would never. Am I too cold?”

“Not at all. Don’t you know you’re always warm?”

Hakuei hummed contentedly at that, and they laid in silence for a long while. Paimon was just starting to feel her eyes droop and her body turn numb and heavy, when Hakuei’s voice woke her back up again.

“Paimon?”

“Mm? Yeah?”

“Thank you. For taking care of me today. I...think I was trying to say that before, when you were bringing me home, but it didn’t come out quite right.”

“Oh, honey, no need to thank me for that. I’ll always take care of my girl.”

“But that’s just the point. All you’ve been doing is being worried about me, and I was just brushing you off like you were annoying me...” Hakuei nestled closer up to her, eyes turned guiltily down. “You weren’t, I was just — ”

“Shhh.” Paimon ran a hand over her hair, from head to ends. “It’s okay. In hindsight, I’m sure I was laying it on a little thick.”

“You care about me. You want me to be safe. I shouldn’t treat that like...like...”

Paimon kissed the top of her head. “Hey. You’re going to have to get used to telling me when I’m being too much of a worrywart, if you’re going to spend the rest of your life with me.”

She had spoken without thinking, and a much more pregnant silence fell on top of them.

“...Yeah. You’re right.”

“Hakuei...Do you remember what you told me? When you were, uh...high?”

Hakuei snorted. “I remember thinking you’d descended out of heavenly light just for me. Did I say that out loud?”

“Well, you did call me an angel, so technically yeah. But...the other stuff. About wanting to marry me.”

“...I said that?”

“Yeah. Really loudly, too, actually. The waiting room was quite amused.”

Hakuei made a breathy noise that was trying to be a nervous laugh. “Do you ever think about it? I’ve...been thinking about it a lot. What it would be like to call you my wife.”

The words, soft and sweet from her love’s voice, felt like fingers playing lightly down her neck and spine. They stopped her breath for a moment, sent a frisson of shock over every inch of her skin.

“I like that,” she said faintly, her tongue feeling as if she’d just run ice water over it. “I love you.”

She never wanted Hakuei’s arms to loosen their grip from around her waist. “I love you too. No matter what we do, I love you. So...let’s sleep on it for a while? Then talk when we’re both wide awake. And my mouth’s not numb.”

Paimon wrapped her arms more snugly around her, one around Hakuei’s shoulders and the other around her hip. She ran her fingers over Hakuei’s hand, imagining what it would be like to feel a warm ring on that left hand. Her ring. 

“Sleep on it. Yeah. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

“...At least until my ice melts and gauze soaks through.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll set an alarm for those...”

 ~0~

“Did you thank your Aunt Sheba for driving you two back home?”

“Yes, Mother. Every time.”

“Good boy.” Gyokuen did not turn from her vanity mirror even while addressing her son, briskly running a comb through her loose hair. “And more importantly, did you get that other little task for today done? All of it?”

Hakuryuu smirked, leaning back against the doorway of the master bedroom. He took his phone out of his pocket and waved it triumphantly. “Oh, absolutely. Recorded every last second of it. It definitely beats Yuu and Ren’s wisdom teeth videos, that’s for sure.”

Gyokuen grinned. “Good boy. Her surgery was just wonderful timing; this year was so dry in decent content for the New Year’s video reel.” 

“You still might want to save it, though. I’ll take a boring family party show over passing up the chance to show Hakuei’s original proposal for the first time at the wedding reception.”

Gyokuen laughed. “Yes, of course! She really did that?”

“Oh, she did, just like I told you. Paimon may or may not have noticed that I was taking a video, but Hakuei and the nurses sure didn’t.” Hakuryuu’s smirk broadened. “They had a No Recording sign up in the recovery room. I was breaking the law for you, Mother.”

“Yes, well, you know how much I appreciate a flawless crime,” Gyokuen agreed with a snicker, as she set the comb down and reached for her hairpins. “It really is about time one of you went ahead and gave me a wedding to plan. Hakuyuu isn’t an option, but what’s holding you and Hakuren back?”

Hakuryuu rolled his eyes. “Because Ren is still playing will-they-won’t-they with his roommates, and Judal has made clear his intentions to propose to me with a Ring Pop and I know that if he tries that you’ll kill him.”

“Indeed I will, his father be damned. My boys deserve finer.”

“And I don’t recall either Hakuei or Paimon saying they’d let you be in charge of any part of it.”

“Ridiculous. I am the mother of the bride, of course I’ll be involved.”

“You know,” Hakuryuu said slyly, “Hakuei might have mentioned something about wanting Aunt Arba to run the show instead.”

Gyokuen’s head snapped around so fast that Hakuryuu swore he heard a crack in her neck. Her glare was made twice as unsettling by one eye bare and the other turned sharp by mascara and liquid eyeliner. “Don’t joke with me, boy. I will kill her if she does anything to ruin this.”

Privately, Hakuryuu was fairly sure that for once, Arba was not the more threatening Abraham twin here. “Mother, do not kill Aunt Arba at Hakuei and Paimon’s wedding.”

“Of course I won’t,” Gyokuen scoffed, returning to her makeup. “Not without reason, at least. We will all ensure that my darling’s wedding is perfect. She’s not likely to have another one, after all.”

“...You’re aware that she hasn’t technically proposed yet, right?”

“Well. All the more time to plan, then. Now, you head off, but text your father too: we’ve had this dinner in the books for weeks and he had better be on his way home to pick me up for it.”

“Yes, Mother,” said Hakuryuu, detaching his back from the doorway and starting to make his way to his bedroom. 

“And call your sister!” Gyokuen called after him. “Make sure she’s feeling all right.”

“Yes, Mother,” he called right back, from the stairway at the end of the hall. 

On the short walk, in which he sent the instructed text to his father and was satisfied to receive a “Driving — Do Not Disturb” automated message, Hakuryuu considered whether or not he ought to be making that call tonight. It was before the hours when such a thing would be considered rude. But then again...

He sat down at his nearly arranged desk and woke his phone with a soft click. The lock screen behind the open keypad had been the same for months on end: Judal with a delighted grin on his face and his long arms thrown around Hakuryuu, the two of them pressed cheek to cheek. The barely visible background was simple blue sky and trees; the second Judal noticed Hakuryuu’s camera open, even a simple walk in the park could and would turn into a combination cuddle-fest and photo shoot. 

Judal would hold him tight, never seeming to get close enough to fully satisfy him, and pepper his face with kisses. Hakuryuu, for his part, could never seem to stop smiling. Nor could he quite put a finger on the feeling that washed over him at times like this, but words like security and love came to mind. Whatever it was, he was quite certain that his sister was feeling it too right now, miles away and safe in Paimon’s arms, and he would not intrude on that for the world. Once, he hadn’t thought that he would be able to trust his only sister to anybody. Now, he knew he would be perfectly happy to see her given away to Paimon.

Tomorrow, then, he decided, setting his phone face down on his desk and beginning to dress down for an evening of reading. His disturbance of their peace could certainly wait until tomorrow morning. 

~0~

The next day, Paimon had an afternoon shift and Hakuei had, of course, taken off. So the pair of them only blinked awake in the late morning, both roused by the soft buzzing of their nearby phones.

Paimon worked her dry-tasting mouth for a moment, as Hakuei retrieved her phone from her pocket. “Ugh, God, we slept in our clothes...”

“So we did, but it’s not going to kill us.” Hakuei squinted at the bright screen, winced at the soreness still in her mouth, but half-smiled at the message she saw there. “Oh...Good morning to you too, Hakuryuu.”

Paimon smiled as she unlocked her own phone, following a second notification about the update on her medical chart. “You gave him quite a time yesterday t — oh...”

“Hm? What’s wrong?”

“I...” Paimon’s smile had slid off her face as she read the doctor’s message, and she sighed. “Remember my last checkup? When they looked at my throat? It looks like my adenoids...are going to have to come out.” 

“Ah, I see.” Hakuei paused. “You’re nervous about this, too?”

Paimon looked down abashedly at the bedspread. “I...A little. I mean, it’ll hurt, and I’ll have to take more time off, and you know, they’re gonna go in my mouth and cut pieces out of my throat...”

Hakuei listened intently, and then leaned over to delicately kiss her cheek. “Whatever happens, I’ll take care of you this time. You can count on that. Now, is there anything else you were worried about...?”

[yourslovinglecter]

The Duchess - Part 3

Summary: She hated him, for everything he had done to them, the damage he had caused, the suffering and pain he had left behind. She hated him… Didn’t she? Emilia comes face to face with the leader of the Saviours and is confronted with his true nature, which in turn has her questioning her own.

Warning/s: Eventual smut, slow burner, profanity/swearing, graphic descriptions of violence.

Pairing: Negan/OC

Part 1 | Part 2

No gifs are made by me unless otherwise stated. All credit goes to the original creators. 

Part 3 

“Olivia.” He raised his voice only slightly, but poor Olivia jumped, letting out a frightened squeak as she clung to her clipboard. “Go get somethin’ to fix up the lady’s lip.”

As Olivia scurried away he stepped closer, his eyes half lidded as he bent his head to hers. “Though i’d be happy to kiss it all better for you right now, if you’re up for it.”

“You’re disgusting.” She sneered and Negan leaned back and clutched his hands to his chest mockingly.

“Oh Duchess, you’ll break my heart.” His eyes traced her body admiringly and he sat down on the couch, tapping the space next to him with a deliberate flourish.

She forced herself to sit, her posture was rigid as he threw his arm across the back of the floral couch, his fingers grazed her shoulder.

“So tell me, where in the UK are you from?” He asked and she shot him a condescending glare. He raised a single brow in warning and so she sighed and answered.

“London. Are we indulging in small talk now?”

“Huh.” He leaned back as he observed her. One hand toying with Lucille as it rested against the arm of the couch. “London. So a real Duchess then?”

She rolled her eyes feeling exasperated. He’d be asking if she’d had tea with the Queen next. “Not everyone from London is royalty.”

“No.” He whispered, leaning in and taking that lock of hair in his fingers again. “But you most certainly are.” He grinned again, that disarmingly charming smile that had her looking away from him. Someone like him, she thought, who had done the things he had and was capable of such horror, shouldn’t have a smile like that.

Thankfully the swift footsteps alerted her to Olivia’s arrival, with antiseptic and a cotton pad in hand. She bent toward Emilia before a large, tanned hand intercepted her.

“I got it, thank you Olivia!” Olivia seemed a bit off balance as Negan took the supplies from her. She gathered herself and let out a watery sniff, before taking a seat at the table in the corner of the room.

“This is gonna sting like a bitch darlin’.” He said as he shook the bottle and placed more antiseptic on the pad. He put the bottle on the table and took her chin in his thumb and forefinger again, just as he had when examining the initial damage, this time holding her still as he dabbed at the cut.

He was surprisingly gentle but it still stung like hell. She remained still and didn’t say a word. If letting him play nurse meant that he was leaving Olivia alone then she vowed to endure it.

“There, much better. Though it might be a little swollen for a while. No kissing for you, doctors orders!” There was that smile again accompanied with a wink, then suddenly his expression darkened as he continued. “I’ll be sure to tell Rick he needs to respect my professional diagnosis.”

She frowned in confusion as she looked at him, he was staring at her intently as though he was waiting for a confirmation of something. “Rick and I aren’t-” She broke off mid sentence, changing her mind. She didn’t need to justify herself to this maniac and she wouldn’t put Michonne in the firing line by revealing their relationship.

“No?” He seemed genuinely intrigued as he used the other side of the pad to wipe away the dried blood which had trailed down her neck to her collarbone. “Well, that tender little scene I witnessed earlier had me believing otherwise. Especially seeing as he was so keen for me to stop flirtin’ with you.”

“That’s just Rick, he’d do that for any of the women.” Negan discarded the cotton pad and sat back, his fingertips grazing her shoulder again as he contemplated her words.

“I wonder how they’re gettin’ on… Who d’ya reckon took ‘em? My money’s on the jumped up little prick who opened the gate. What’s his name… Steven, Stuart?”

“Spencer.” She ground out, feeling fury bubble up again. If it had been him she’d kill him herself. The little weasel.

“Ohh… Not him then.” Negan watched her reaction to the name carefully and rubbed his face with his hand, his beard scratching against the leather glove. “Ok I give up guessing! So who is your boyfriend?”

Her eyes flicked to him for a moment in confusion as she forgot to keep her rigid posture, her tone was both condescending and sarcastic when she spoke. “Excuse me?”

“I’m interested.” He shrugged his shoulders and his eyes drifted to Olivia, some twisted realisation lit in his eyes. “Unless you’re…” He paused, pointing with his gloved hand between the two women. “I mean that’d be totally cool if you were, you know… I mean you’re a little outta her league.” He leaned into her side and whispered this from the corner of his mouth in a hushed manner, as if divulging a secret.

“I’m straight.” Emilia said coldly, hating the look of self disgust on Olivia’s face. “So is Olivia.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic.” He said, looking right at her before he swiftly stood from his seat. “I need a little fresh air ladies. Lets go take a seat outside, it’s such a lovely day!”

Both women glanced at each other as Negan swung Lucille up to rest on his shoulder and sauntered outside, expecting them to follow. Which of course, they did.

Negan directed them to the picnic table and chairs which were set up on the small patio, once Olivia was seated he took the chair beside her and draped his arm over the back of her shoulders, stretching his long legs out in front of him. She told herself she was glad to be away from him, but felt sorry for Olivia, who currently had Negan pressed against her side and conflicting emotions on her features. She was so easy to read, which was why Negan was tormenting the poor woman. She wasn’t used to being the focus of attention, especially the attention of a broad shouldered, well muscled, tall and masculine psychopath. Emilia could tell Olivia felt flattered at the attention, the deep red blush which had suffused her face was evidence enough of that.

Emilia turned where she stood, unable to witness how he was affecting poor Olivia, she folded her arms across her chest as she looked up to the window of the nearest house, the curtain moved and the familiar piercing blue eyes of her leader were visible for a split second. It only took her moments to realise whose house that was and that Rick had come to the same conclusion as Negan, and so was searching Spencer’s home.

She clenched her jaw in fury at the thought of Spencer double crossing them, she knew he had it in for Rick. He was a spoiled little boy who thought he knew best. She knew only too well that people like him didn’t last very long in this world now. He was spineless and a coward and she despised him.

She had tuned out most of what Negan was saying to Olivia, mostly because he was baiting her and deliberately trying to make her uncomfortable, that was until his raised voice caught her attention and she turned back to him as he called out.

“Am I borin’ you sweetheart?” He asked her, his espresso eyes showed a brewing storm as he observed her. He leaned forward, removing his arm from around Olivia as he pushed off his knees to stand, picking Lucille up as he sauntered toward her.

“Actually, don’t answer that. Knowin’ you you’ll probably say yes…” He leaned sideways, his much taller, broader form casting a shadow over her. “And that’ll just break my heart.”

“You keep talking about your heart like you actually have one.” She said, unable to keep the thought to herself which had occurred to her the first time he had mockingly clutched at his own chest.

“Ohhh! Straight in the nutsack!” He jolted backward, looking at her with barely suppressed glee. He smirked again, one side of his mouth tilting upward to showcase those even, white teeth again. “We’re gonna have fun Duchess, I can tell.”

He took in a deep breath and surveyed the area around him. His body language was always so at ease, she noted, like he was so unfazed and unthreatened, it screamed alpha male and dominance and she had quickly realised since meeting him why everyone feared him so much.

“Come on girls.” His deep, rough voice intruded on her observations. “Let’s go see how ol’ Rick is doing with his search.”

They followed him from the patio to the road out front. He opened the connecting side gate and motioned them through ahead of him in an act of chivalry so brutally at odds with what he was capable of that the thought made her dizzy.

His men were loading up their haul onto the large vans they had brought with them, Emilia cringed as she saw their chairs, mattresses, guns and most other furniture piled high inside. She glared sideways at Negan, who was watching her expression closely with a smirk on his face. Then Rick was approaching, a small corded bag in his hand. This diverted Negan who turned away from her to face the other man, his hands taking the bag as he asked.

“What’chu got for me Rick?” He opened it and looked down, a dark chuckle left him as he continued. “Well would’ya look at that, they were here after all.”

He turned to Rick, leaning sideways again as if to emphasise his height advantage as he sought to catch Rick’s gaze, she noticed a vein in Negan’s tanned neck pulsate as he spoke. “Funny how a little ‘Holy shit somebody’s gonna die!’ lights a fire under everybody’s ass.”

Olivia whimpered and Emilia clenched her jaw and closed her eyes momentarily in frustration at the her weakness. Now Negan’s attention was back on them as he stood next to Rick.

“Tell me Rick, which one of your fine folks almost cost Olivia the rest of her days?” Rick kept his eyes on Emilia, refusing to look at Negan as he answered.

“Doesn’t matter anymore-” He Rick began, but was quickly cut off by Negan.

“No! It matters, see you need to get everybody on board.”  He sent a pointed glance Emilia’s way as he repeated “Everybody.”

“Or we just go right back to square one.” He handed the bag to the man with the scarred face, Dwight she thought his name was, who was stood next to the truck. They loaded the final weapons up and pulled the large metal door down, shutting their belongings away for good.

Negan banged his leather clad fist on the iron twice, she felt Olivia jump beside her, the engine started and the trucks rolled their way down the hill and outside the gate. Negan gestured that they all followed him as he walked his way down, looking around in apparent enjoyment at his surroundings.

“Helluva place you got here Rick.” He gestured with open arms and turned to them, his eyes lingering on Emilia before looking to Rick.

She watched as Rick glanced to their left and she followed his gaze to see Michonne stood in the broken window of one of the outbuildings, an animal slung over her shoulders. Her gaze went quickly back to Rick as he asked Negan to give him a second, she frowned as she wondered what he was thinking.

Negan rocked on his heels and his eyes narrowed as he turned around to follow their gazes, Michonne quickly ducked away from his line of sight

“No…” He spoke softly and with a smile, she could tell by his tone he was waiting for something and she ground her teeth in frustration as Rick sighed, she could almost feel him swallowing his pride as he looked up.

“Please..” He ground out. “Can you just give me a second.” He raised his eyes to Negan and she saw the taller man’s lip twitch in a smirk as he got exactly what he wanted. Negan nodded once as he smiled at Rick, again winning the power play between them, who quickly took off toward the outbuilding still holding Lucille.

She followed him with her eyes until he disappeared inside, again leaving her with Negan, whose eyes were roaming her from head to toe. He leant back against the car behind him and folded his arms, one hand, the gloved one, raised to his face as he stroked his bearded jaw in thought.

They remained in almost silence in Rick’s absence, with Negan merely observing her and humming an unrecognisable tune. She refused to move, to break eye contact and so she stared him down, aware of the twitch of his lips as he enjoyed their stand off.

She only broke eye contact when Rick came back, Lucille still in his hands and Michonne storming ahead of him. Her eyes flicked back to Negan who was eyeing the new development in consideration.

“Look at this!” He crowed as Michonne stormed passed him, deer draped over her shoulders toward the last van belonging to The Saviours, only faltering in her step when she saw Daryl.

“I thought she was scavenging but she was hunting.” Rick’s voice drew her attention and Emilia watched in disbelief as he held out the uncatalogued rifle to be taken by Negan. “This one never came inside, we kept it near the line.”

Negan seemed thrilled whilst she was stunned, there was no need for that and she didn’t understand why he had given them the last weapon they had. Her faith in her leader shook for a moment as Negan looked the gun over.

“This is somethin’ to build a relationship on! Good for you Rick, this is reading the room and gettin’ the message! I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again.” He leaned sideways and pointed toward Rick with the rifle. “You sir, are special.”

“Now that you know we can follow your rules…” Rick began and Negan pivoted on his foot, his head tilted as he spoke. She knew what he was trying to do and she wanted to tell him not to give Negan the satisfaction, but her heart ached at the thought of her friend stuck with these animals.

“Yeeees?” He drew out, his eyes darkening with warning as if he almost knew what was coming next.

“I’d like to ask you if Daryl can stay.” Emilia looked back to Negan to see his reaction. He smirked and shook his head once.

“Not happenin’.” Then his mouth turned down in contemplation as he appeared to change his mind. “You know what, I don’t know. Maybe Daryl can plead his case. Maybe… Daryl can sway me?”

They all turned to look at Daryl, his head was bowed and now she could she fully took him in. He looked worse than she’d ever seen him, he was sickly pale and his hair stringy and lifeless. His face was an amalgamation of black and blue bruises and she felt her hatred for The Saviours consume her as he only bowed his head in submission and remained silent.

“Daryl?” Negan prodded, a large self satisfied smile stretching his lips. He chuckled at the silence and turned back to Rick. “Well, you tried! Now what you gotta do is get over that tall wall of yours and try harder out there. Earn for me. Cause we’re coming back soon and when we do you better have somethin’ interesting for us… Or Lucille, she’s gonna have her way.

“I want you to hear that again.” He leaned into Rick again, enjoying it as the other man turned away from him, submitting to his dominant body language. “If you don’t have something interesting for us… Somebody’s gonna die… And no more magic guns.”

“Alright!” Negan turned on his heel, his back to Rick again and his tone suddenly jovial. “It’s gettin’ late, grab that deer and lets go home.”

Michonne threw the deer from her shoulders, glaring at Negan and Emilia couldn’t help it as she huffed out a soft laugh. Only Michonne could deposit a dead deer with so much attitude.

Negan span on his heel to look at her, answering her quickly fading smile with a large, cocky grin of his own. “Well, darlin’ I do believe that’s the first smile I seen outta you since I got here. Since it’s such a pretty smile I’ll let your friend there get away with the way she’s lookin’ at me. If she’s still lookin’ at me like that when I turn around again… Well even your pretty little face wont stop Lucille makin’ sure she can’t ever look at me like that again.”

Emilia quickly glanced to Michonne, who grit her teeth in disgust and lowered her eyes, quickly walking back the way she came and as she passed Negan, her eyes averted from him, he laughed and pumped his fist once in victory.

“Man, I love a gal that buys me dinner and doesn’t expect me to put out!” Negan chuckled in Rick’s ear as they watched Michonne leave, those dark eyes slid over to Emilia and he winked at her once before he spoke again to Rick.

“So nobody died… And you know what I think, I think you and I refined our understanding. Lemme ask you somethin’ Rick. You want me to go?” He stood face to face with Rick now, no longer stooping but showcasing his full height and build. This was the first time she realised that she’d seen him in all his ‘glory’… For the first time he wasn’t relaxed, leaning to and fro or using his body language to show just how unthreatened he was. For the first time he had drawn himself up and she realised just how tall and broad he was, at least 6 ft 2 she thought.

“I think that’d be good.” Rick drawled, his face pale and drawn. He looked so much smaller in comparison, so beaten and broken.

Negan smiled. “Then just say those two magical words!”

Rick looked down to his feet, grinding his teeth together as he stepped forward once. His voice was low, but not low enough that Emilia and Negan’s men didn’t all hear him when he said it.

“Thank you.”

Negan’s posture relaxed and he leant back and chuckled along with his men, his hands in his pockets as he responded. “Don’t be ridiculous, thank you.”

Emilia watched, feeling the tension in the air. A beat passed and a shuffling, gurgling sound came from between the vehicles behind Negan.

“Another one! You need our help.” He spoke condescendingly to Rick before turning to one of his men. “Davy, hand me that candlestick over there.”

“You know what I think Rick, I think we’re both gonna come outta this winners. Watch my form!” Negan span on his heel, candlestick in hand as he raised it over his head. Emilia glanced to Rick to see his gaze darkening, his fist clenching rhythmically around the handle of the weapon which had bludgeoned two of their group to death. She was sure he was considering the poetic justice of beating Negan’s head in with Lucille.

She waited. Negan brought the Candlestick down on the walkers head and sighed in satisfaction as it caved inward and the body collapsed, he stood, waiting with his back to Rick. Almost daring him to act. A moment passed and Rick stepped back, lowering his head again as Negan finally turned, discarding the weapon to his left.

“Ye-up. Win, win.” He levelled his dark eyes on Rick, his eyes said he was fully aware of what Rick had been about to do, and it only made his power greater that he hadn’t. “Clean that up for me for next time. Lets move out.” He walked passed Rick as his men made their way to their vehicles before he suddenly stopped.

“Oh wait…” He chuckled, spinning and looking at Rick again. “How careless of me! You didn’t think I was gonna leave Lucille did you? I mean after what she did I wouldn’t think you’d want her… Thank you for being so accommodating my friend.” His tone was mocking as he leant down and took Lucille from Rick’s barely there grip.

He looked at Emilia once more, licking his lips before speaking again to torment their leader, to humiliate him one final time before he departed. “In case you haven’t caught on, I just slipped my dick down your throat… and you thanked me for it.”

Rick’s eyes were still averted but she saw him blink as his emotions almost broke free from his stone wall facade. Negan turned away and stepped into the van, his eyes now wholly on Emilia as the engine started up.

“Until next time, Duchess.” He watched her for a moment, as if committing her to his memory and she scowled at him fiercely in return. He laughed, flashing those perfect white teeth as he winked at her one final time, before turning to face the road as the final van left Alexandria.

Part 4 

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