#that is a cat toy and she wedged herself in the cat tree

[arofundy]

dumb baby time

[woso-dreamzzz]

Introductions

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adeventures Universe

Summary: Natalia meets your parents as your girlfriend

Pernille wishes that they could make the trip to Spain to see you more often. But with their own work schedules plus flight times and your own training, it was difficult sometimes.

But, it was all worth it when she and Magda got out of arrivals to see your beaming face waiting for them.

"Princesse!" Pernille pulls you in for a hug, cradling your face and inspecting you.

The Spanish sun has been good for you. You're practically glowing as you take Pernille's hand in one of your own and Magda's in the other.

"How has training been?" Magda asks as you all make the trek to where you've parked your car.

"Good," You reply," We've got that match against Eibar at the weekend so we've been training pretty hard."

"You're top of the table," Magda reminds you," You can't be having to train that hard."

You shrug. "Talia says she'll cook dinner if I keep a clean sheet."

"That's nice of her," Pernille cuts in when she sees Magda's eye twitch.

Your crush on Natalia has been going on for years now and Magda's never fully come around to it. In her eyes, you were still that little toddler who moved from Germany to England. You were too young to have a crush, least of all a crush on a flirty Spanish girl who practically had a salacious smirk on her face all the time.

Magda had always imagined that your first official crush would be on someone like Jessie. You'd had a childhood crush on her for years (even if you had never actually realised it) so Magda had just assumed that people like Jessie were your type.

Natalia and her flirtations were out of left field.

"Talia doesn't cook often," You explain as you slip into your car," But she makes this amazing pasta dish that I've been craving for weeks."

"That sounds wonderful," Pernille says," I'm looking forward to seeing you play this weekend. We tune into your matches whenever we can."

As the topic moves on from Natalia's, Magda finds herself relaxing.

It's not that she doesn't like Natalia. Natalia is a great girl but you're Magda's baby. She doesn't want to have to imagine you kissing a girl or falling into bed with one. You're her only child and the idea of you moving away to Spain and potentially never coming back was almost too much to handle.

"I saw that match against Real Madrid," Magda says instead," That was a fantastic dive."

"The shot winded me a little bit," You reply proudly, turning onto the street with your apartment," But I'm glad I caught it. I was a little worried that I wouldn't."

"You're the best keeper in the world," Pernille says," Of course you were going to stop it."

Your cheeks turn a little pink as you turn off the car. "We don't know that. That PSG keeper-"

"You'll win it," Magda says," I can feel it in my bones. You'll see at the end of the year. You'll win."

You don't respond to that as your cheeks flush a deeper colour, making your way up the elevator to your apartment.

"Prins is fully trained now," You say proudly as you unlock your door," And he's bilingual. Talia is trying to teach him Spanish but he's refusing."

"Good," Magda says," I knew there was a reason I liked him."

Your apartment is different to how it was when she and Pernille left you there. It's more homey and cosy. Rocky the Rock was still on one of the shelves with girl-swan and girl-moose. Everything still had a place but it felt more lived in now.

A few of Prins' toys were scattered around on the floor and there were soft blankets strewn around the room.

Prins yaps happily at seeing you all, wandering over to get tickles behind the ear from Pernille, who happily crouches down to give them to him.

She glances around slightly, feeling just like Magda that there is something different about your home.

A cat tree was wedged in one corner, with a beautiful long-furred calico sleeping in one of the little caves. There was a Barcelona training shirt that didn't have your number on it hanging over the armrest of the sofa.

There were shoes that weren't your size on the floor.

But, the real kicker was the soft footsteps coming closer and closer.

"Hola," Natalia says as she appears around the corner.

Your face brightens up as soon as you see her, only getting happier and happier as she drops a soft kiss on your lips before moving over to the kitchen area without a care in the world.

Prins goes to follow her, wagging his tail as she throws him down a treat. The beautiful cat from earlier also crawls out from her nap spot to get treats too.

Pernille has to stifle her laugh as Magda stares, a finger coming up to point between you and Natalia, who was now happily humming as she grabbed some butter from the fridge.

"I...You...She..." Magda stutters out," What?!"

"Mi vida," Natalia says," Did you want the normal bread or the fancy bread?"

"Fancy, please," You reply," Morsa, is something wrong?"

Magda's still stuttering, not fully able to articulate her thoughts as she gestures wildly.

Pernille laughs, looping her arm around Magda's waist in comfort. "I think your Morsa is just a bit confused. She wasn't expecting Natalia to be here too."

You frown. "But why? Talia lives here too?"

"What?!" Magda demands.

You give her a funny look. "She's lived here for weeks now. Did I forget to tell you?"

"Mi vida," Natalia says," Why don't we sit down. Sorry, Miss Eriksson, Miss Harder, did you want a sandwich too? I forgot to ask."

"That would be lovely, thank you, Natalia," Pernille says as she guides Magda to sit at the kitchen table," I'll have some ham if you have it and Magda's the same."

Magda barely looks mentally present in the room, her mouth opening and closing like a fish.

It's very clear from the way that Natalia's moving around that she's trying to make a good impression. She's met Magda and Pernille before but that was when she was on Spain's youth team. Meeting them now as your girlfriend is different from back then.

Of course, both Magda and Pernille knew that she's been your girlfriend for a while now. You'd been very excited to tell them but Natalia moving in with you must have slipped your mind.

Natalia looks unbelievably nervous as she slides the sandwiches in front of Pernille and Magda, taking up the empty seat opposite them and next to you.

The cat from earlier leaps up onto the table, brushing her bushy tail against Natalia's face before jumping down again to wander back to her cat tree.

"That's Reina," You say proudly," She's Talia's cat."

"I can see that," Pernille says fondly," She's beautiful."

"I brush her every day," Natalia says, puffing out her chest. She's really laying it on thick. She made a sandwich for everyone. She's showing off how responsible she is by bragging about her cat's stunning pelt. She's taking care not to touch you as much as Pernille knows she wants to. She's really trying to make a good impression.

Magda laughs sardonically. "I mean," She says," You've really made yourself at home, haven't you?"

"Morsa!" You snap and Magda jolts.

You very rarely raise your voice, least of all at her but it's clear she's rubbed you up the wrong way. You seem to regret it though because your eyes dart back down to stare at the grain of the table.

Your voice stays firm though. "Don't be mean. This is Natalia's home too."

"Magda," Pernille says and it's funny how similar to two of you are," We're having a grownup conversation here. Be polite."

Magda sighs deeply. Her hand clenches into a fist and then unclenches again. She expels all of her breath.

"How long have you been moved in together?" Her voice is softer now, more welcoming but it's clear to Pernille that Natalia is still a little on edge.

"Nearly two months," You say," I think it's going really well!"

"It is," Natalia says, finally getting a bit more of her usual confidence back," We're doing very well together...Miss Eriksson."

Magda pulls a face. "Don't call me that," She says," It makes me feel old. I'm not old."

That gets you smiling again and the hand you've hidden under the table moves up to rest on it, showing that you've laced it tightly with Natalia's.

"You're old enough to have a twenty year old," You tease and that gets Natalia smiling down.

She's practically beaming at you, looking at you like you've hung the moon and the stars and the planets turned with you at the centre.

Magda doesn't like it. She doesn't want anyone looking at you like that. She doesn't want people to be attracted to you. You're her baby, the little baby who used to fit so perfectly in her arms and used to sneak into the big bed and speak German just to annoy her.

But you're grown up now and she can't think of anyone else she'd rather have look at you like you were their whole world than Natalia.

"So," Magda says begrudgingly," Natalia, I hear that you make really good pasta."

[undeadunhingedchaos]

... That said, I really believe most cats are their own flavor of crazy...

Hall of fame of the cats I've had the pleasure to know (chronological order) :

😼 Doodles : brown tabby, either a Maine Coon mix or a Norwegian Forest Cat. An absolute unit anyways. The Cat, The Myth, The Legend.

... My father took him for a ride on his bike. With a leather jacket stolen to an aviator teddy bear.

Doodles ate mice, learned to open doors, somehow teleported into my father's race car overnight, pissed nearly everywhere, fought other cats, slept in a barn with the neighbor's sheep, almost took a ride on the car's roof, rolled into dirt right after we washed him, became addicted to tuna, and flipped his bowl to eat kibble on the floor - but didn’t eat when I served him directly on the floor...

He also used to shit right next to the litterbox, then eject a pile of gravel over it. And went bat-shit crazy when fed olives...

Weirdly enough my father successfully trained him to come when called, give a paw, roll over and play dead.

... Latest news : before getting neutered, Doodles "fucked a plush centipede in the ass" as my mother so nicely said...

Cats are really weird animals....

😼 Féline : Smaller brown tabby, aptly named. Thieve. It's more of a criminal record than a biography in her case...

She stole :

_the steak off my father's plate

_ an entire chicken off the counter, then wedged herself under the bed with it, ate the entire chicken safe a leg, and only then did she got out of there...

_ my father's wallet. 5 min before he had to leave. Guess who got late - and scratched ?

_ my favorite toy. Also 5 min before departure. My father, having enough of these shenanigans, flipped his king-size bed to "fish" the damn cat out of there...

_ X-mas tree baubles....

_ So many hair ties.

Well, there's also vandalism in there :

_ Scratched every vertical surface available.

_ Repeatedly climbed up the christmas tree. My father resorted to put the tree on top of a pyramid of chairs on top of the table. Every. Night. The ensemble eventually collapsed under Féline's repeated assaults...

_ Last but not least, one day, while home alone, she tore apart the carpet right behind the front - and only - door, efficiently blocking the door, locking us outside. My father, who you might see now as a kind of brute, broke down the door of his own flat, tearing apart what was left of the carpet... And that's why the next carpet had a hole in the exact shape of the opening angle of the door...

The trick my father regretted teaching her : turning off the lights... Yeah, the thing with the laser pointer. She ended doing it anywhen.

The tragic end to her criminal career is that she ran away during our moving, never to be found...

😼 Desmo : Grey and white cat. Named after either the Greek god or a specific model of motorbike. Laziest cat ever.

... Was the unfortunate test subject of my first attempt at washing a cat.

Had a really stinky breath, prompting me to wonder why cats don't have "toothpaste treats"...

Got chased all around the flat by me, my father's best friend AND the RC car...

Was taught by Doodles how to drink in the tub, which drove my father crazy...

Ungratefully ignored the kibble track I laid for him across the apartment, preferring trying to eat the cereal I dropped...

Had a certain taste for my toys' hair...

I successfully took a picture of him by crawling under the coffee table and using a barbie doll as bait...

😼 Dieci : Black cat.🐈‍⬛ Void that lived a fairy tale. Definitely named after the Desmodieci model of bike...

Her story started as yellow eyes and plaintive meows in the blacked-out staircase. Then, as my father opened the door, secretly hoping she didn’t follow him, a small shadow rushed out of the darkness into the light of hope, straight into Desmo's bowl...

Did my father attract cats ? Absolutely.

Dieci was young and playful, and a bit of a thieve as well. Her targets of choice were pencils and all kinds of bobby pins and hair ties...

Her most notable act, besides her obvious ability to disappear over dark surfaces, was the day she stole our guest's comforter, which was, you'll never guess, a paint brush ...

We put the house upside down searching for it, until my father, once again, flipped the entire couch....

😼 Swiffer : black and white cat. Kitten, rather. Named like that 'cause she had a habit of squeezing herself behind furniture, only to come out gray...

Her habit might have to do with not wanting to deal with my then toddler brother...

Who tried to teach her to ride on the lego train.

Among other disatrous ideas...

Like many of her feline comrades, Swiffer absolutely wrecked the damn christmas tree...

Just like Féline, Swiffer ran away during our next moving....

Moral of the story : Don’t move with a cat ?

😼 Tanuki : Current cat. Brown tabby, may have a Maine Coon up his family tree. Might also be a bastard. In both senses of the term (he doesn’t look a single bit like the cat we were told was his dad).

Loveable asshole, quickly nicknamed : The Trap ; Piranha ; The Night's Claws ; Jaws....

List of his shenanigans : still going...

... Already fell twice in the damn swamp.

To be followed...

[jincherie]

intermission • iii | moonchild

• ☽ — pairing: bts x reader • ☽ — genre: crack, fluff, angst, college/uni au • ☽ — words: 4.6k • ☽ — rating: sfw • ☽ — warnings: rabid old ladies and tree-climbing shenanigans • ☽ — notes: another intermission! this is my last part for now, miss zee will be writing the next two and then we will see my return!!!! but until then, please indulge us n show miss zee some love!! she works hard for it :’< also because with zee’s next chapter... we see a bit of a twist arise!

— posted; 09.06.2019

When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

— • masterlist | prev | intermission iii | next • —

— some time in first year —

 The afternoon air is cool and the sun is a soft, comforting warmth against the exposed parts of Kim Namjoon’s skin, chasing away the slight bite of the cold that lingers in the breeze due the transitional season as he walks home. He’s just finished fulfilling his third ‘help wanted’ poster duty of the day, collecting the sheets, both handwritten and printed alike, from shopping mall billboards like Pokémon. He has a thick wad of them folded up and wedged in his back pocket (he’d forgotten his trusty messenger bag this morning that, despite being two snapped threads away from falling apart completely, has always managed to see him through the day) and a comparatively much smaller wad in his other back pocket, of the odd jobs his managed to complete through the week.

His rationale for being such an upstanding citizen and going out of his way to help anyone and everyone he can? Two things—experience, and references. He knows it’s a harsh world, and to succeed you have to prepare yourself as much as possible for everything to come. So when the time comes that he steps into the adult, working world after graduating… he doesn’t doubt he’s going to be one of the best prepared people they’ve ever seen.

Plus, sometimes the little old ladies and distraught pet owners he helped gave him a few dollars as a tip. Unnecessary and not something he asks for, but Namjoon isn’t one to turn away a gift when it could do wonders for his loose change jar. It satisfies him to see the little glass thing with a cork lid get fuller and fuller each weak. He blames the deep, primal part of his monkey brain that likes seeing a big collection of shiny objects like coins. It sparks joy, one could say.

The odd job he’s just completed was a little dryer than the rest, if he’s being honest. It was much simpler than the ad for it had made out— just helping some fellow uni student as clueless as him fix their broken toilet roll. All he had to do was find the screw that came out and the student gave him, like, a whole box of frozen chicken patties in return. Which… isn’t so bad but also, Namjoon considers himself an intellectual and while he may be bought by food he still longs for a mental challenge. So despite how usually he gets in about three a day, on a good day, but even thought this is his third one he’s still… hungry for more. He’s also hungry in the literal sense; the last job made him miss lunch and now his stomach is performing an acapella version of ‘feed me, feed me, you bastard’. A classic hit, one he is especially familiar with. He’ll have to rifle through the papers in his back pocket and suss out whether any of the posters seem the type to provide food for the help.

He’s still toying with the idea when he happens across an unexpected scenario that seems to have been dropped into his path by the fates themselves. Along one side of the footpath are suburban homes and their small front yards and cute little mailboxes, and to the other is the occasional tree and then the plain asphalt of the road. About a yard in front of him, just far enough that he can’t really see even with his glasses on, there seems to be a bit of a commotion occurring near one of the larger trees lining the street.

Excitement probably shouldn’t be his first reaction, but it is, and Namjoon hurries his long-legged gait so that he can reach the spectacle sooner. He doesn’t know what he looked like but walking like this, he feels a bit like those spiders with the tiny bodies and disproportionately long, spindly legs. And here he is, going to help out like the friendly neighbourhood spiderman. He slapped his thigh, eyes wide. He might be an iron man enthusiast at heart, but damn that’s a good line for his resume.

The closer Namjoon gets to the commotion he’d spotted from afar, the more he realises he might have hit jackpot. The source of the loud yelling and frantic movements seems to be a woman, a little on the elderly side, with her wild salt and pepper curls defying gravity in some places and clumping in others—it takes Namjoon a moment to realise that she’s actually attempted to tie her hair back and that’s why it looks a little bit deformed from the distance. As he draws closer, he notes that she looks a little unhinged. His reaction to such a thing should be caution, and he should feel wary, but all he can think is hell yes this woman clearly needs help and he is going to help her, damn it.

“Pudding, come down! Please! I’m sorry for calling you fat, Pudding! I didn’t mean it!”

As soon as he’s within earshot, he hears the woman sobbing hysterically as she claws at the thick trunk of the tree. She’s too small to reach the lowest hanging branch, and has taken to draping herself pitifully against the leaning trunk as she scrabbles against the bark with her nails. The woman wails, pitifully, voice piercing the air like a siren, or a banshee, “Pudding!”

Confused as he may be, he’s sure that as soon as he asks the lady what happened, he’ll be as clued in as possible. Namjoon clears his throat and composes himself, before stepping forward and speaking loud enough that the woman can hear him over her own loud weeping.

“Excuse me, ma’am, is everything alright? Do you require assistance of any kind?”

The lady spins around, a crazy glint in her eye, and belatedly, Namjoon begins to feel a little wary in addition to the wave of concern that seems to have caught up to him from where he left it in the dust.

“My pudding,” the woman wails, lurching and attaching herself to Namjoon like he is the tree she’d just been attempting to scale. Her nails dig into his arms, and the male is suddenly thankful for the long sleeves of his shirt and jacket protecting them from being punctured by her claws. “My pudding is stuck in the tree.”

A few beats of silence sound in Namjoon’s head, before finally a thought spawns into being. This woman…. Did she fling her dessert into the tree? God, it’s worse than he thought. He never expected to walk upon such a tragedy.

“I’m so sorry to hear that, ma’am,” Namjoon says, sincerely sympathetic. Being prone to trips and falls as he is, he has been victim many a times to accidentally flinging food all over the place. His heart goes out to her, his hands coming to pat her forearms with only a little hesitance (distantly, a part of him wonders if the crazed look in her eye is due to rabies, and the whiteness of what he assumes is snot all over her face and mouth makes him a little nervous). “Would you like help? I can get the pudding down from the tree, and then you can go on ea—”

“Oh, would you, dear?” the woman’s grip tightens like a vice as she cuts him off, wide, glassy eyes gleaming with hope. Is she starting to froth at the mouth a bit? Namjoon chooses to ignore that observation. “Please, please get him down. He’s the fat bastard on the second highest branch, and he -hic- must be so scared.”

Namjoon resists the instinct to make a face just barely— is she referring to her pudding as a he, and did she just call her pudding a fat bastard?— and instead follows the old woman’s shaking hand as it point to the top of the tree. Realisation slaps him in the face.

There, sitting right on the thickest part of the second highest branch near the trunk and somehow still managing to bow it, is both the fattest and the ugliest but most oddly endearing cat Namjoon has ever seen. At least, he thinks it’s a cat. It’s a cat until proven otherwise, he decides.

“Oh,” Namjoon says, staring at the cat. The cat stares back, and Namjoon gulps at the sudden goblin energy it seems to be radiating. “Pudding.”

The woman, still babbling incoherently while Namjoon creates a half-assed sort of mental plan for how to proceed and reach the top of the tree, starts shaking him slightly in her distress. Being a music major doesn’t prepare him for shit like this, he laments. This lady better have some food on the table for the trauma she’s currently inflicting.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get pudding.” He gingerly brushes her grip off him, surprised she let go with such little convincing, and makes his way to the trunk of the tree. The cat stares him down the entire time, lidded yellow eyes peering into the depths of his being and pulling out his innermost fears. Namjoon feels like this cat is the kind of thing you peer under your bed as a child and see balled up in the corner, hissing, with big fangs and ominous man-eating energy. This cat looks like the second Namjoon is within reach he’s going to claw his face off or eat his ears. A shiver rolls down his spine, but he pushes on. He’s going to climb this tree, make this cat his bitch, and bring it back down for the crazy old lady who has started breathing extra heavy the closer he gets to the tree. Distantly, one of his braincells knocks around and whispers that this feels like when Hansel and Gretel got tricked by a witch and her candy house— except in this situation the candy house is Namjoon’s incredible need for good references and experience. Annoyed at the errant brain cell, he flicks it away mentally and tries to think of a way up the tree when he reaches the base.

Well, he supposes he’s just gonna have to go up branch by branch and see which ones he can reach with his long noodle legs. He has to bring his foot up past his ear to clamber onto the first branch, and amongst the pain of essentially doing the splits he feels oddly proud of himself. Kim Namjoon; outstanding citizen, academic, genius music major, now gymnast. It has a nice ring to it. Perhaps he should consider broadening his horizons and extending his athleticism.

Scaling the tree is actually much easier than he anticipated. None of the branches are too far or too high to reach, and he’s satisfied with the effortlessness this job has taken so far. This will look fantastic on his record— he can’t forget to get a written statement from the rabies lady.

Before he knows it, he’s come face to face with the cat. Up close, it radiates even more demonic goblin energy, and Namjoon feels his knees quake slightly in response. It doesn’t meow, doesn’t even growl, merely bares its teeth in greeting, and the male gulps. Alright, time to make this cat his bitch for a moment and save that old lady’s day.

“Hey puss,” Namjoon greets, a little rusty on his cat conversation etiquette. “Come here puss, here, tch tch.”

The cat, fearing neither god nor man, merely sits and looks at Namjoon as he makes kissy noises in an attempt to lure it. ‘You think you can control me?’ It feels as though the cat says to him, with its apathetic, golden-eyed stare, ‘I belong to no one, fool. I will perish before I move at your will.’

Alright, seems like he’s just gonna have to scoop him up and go. Hopefully his nature is a docile as the name Pudding implies and his intimidating outside is just a farce.

Namjoon leans against the trunk of the tree as he reaches for the cat and takes it into his arms successfully— it’s too fat to put up much of a fight, and for that the male is thankful, even if it now feels like he’s holding a boulder in his arms and they’re going to fall off if he doesn’t deposit it soon. What does that lady feed this cat?! Cement?!

Having secured the old lady’s bag, Namjoon directs his gaze downwards and goes to embark on the next step in the plan to climb the tree for the cat and then climb down with the cat— as expected, it’s time for the latter. Wait, speaking of—

A ladder? God he wishes he had one of those right now, because he’s just realised that he has no idea how to get down. The cat’s belly gives an almighty rumble and, expectedly, it throws Namjoon a little off balance. The old lady is calling out hoarsely several many feet below them, and Namjoon feels a little overwhelmed as he considers possibilities and analyses paths down.

Gulping, he makes a calculated decision— unfortunately, he was never that great at maths.

x x

An afternoon stroll through the streets surrounding your dorm is just what you need, some fresh air to sooth your tired, university student soul and refresh your mind.

At least, that’s what you decided like ten minutes ago. Currently, you’re not sharing the same sentiments as past-you so much. This is mostly due to the abundance of unhinged elderly and zombified youth that seem to have had the same idea as you and that are now milling about unchecked. You accidentally stepped off the footpath before and stepped maybe ten centimetres onto someone’s lawn. That someone happened to be a short, stout middle-aged couple that had matching outdated hairdos, and they were not happy about you ‘messing up their lawn’. Before embarking on this walk, you could have proudly said you’d never been chased down the street by some screaming woman with a broom before. Now though, you’re no longer a virgin to that particular experience. You’re not going home as the same woman you were when you left.

The street that you’ve just turned onto, on your journey back to your dorms, is remarkably less chaotic than the rest and you feel yourself letting out a breath of relief. Finally, you thought you were going to combust from the stress alone. As relieved as you are though, you don’t let down your guard; you’ve been burnt before, thank you very much.

Not even three houses down the street, your reservations are proven right. There is an elderly woman, who appears afflicted with a sickness of some sort if the fluids all over her face are anything to go by, who is sobbing and moping at the base of a tree in what you hope is her front yard. Confronted with the strange situation, a part of you instinctively wants to help her— the other part tells you to turn tail and go down another street because this could be one of those traps where they trick you with a crying child or old lady and then mug you, taking all your money and any candy still surviving in your pockets.

Ultimately, the more empathetic side of you wins out and you hesitantly begin to walk closer to the woman clawing at the tree and screaming about desserts.

“Uh, excuse me ma’am, are you o—”

You don’t even get to finish before there is a sudden series of snaps and cracks from the tree above you and a mass comes hurtling down from the foliage. You scream, the sheer blood-curdling nature making your throat ache, and just about shit yourself as you launch away. Where you stood, a shape smacks into the ground with a hearty thunk that shakes the earth a little beneath your feet. You were right, you’re about to get mugged!

“AHH FUCK WHAT THE FUCK FUCK OFF I KNOW KATANA!”

The mass on the ground groans and you blink, watching with absolute dumbfoundedness as it shifts and suddenly the fattest cat you’ve ever seen is parting from it and running towards the woman in hysterics by the base of the tree. For such an absolute unit, it moves fast, and barely a moment passes before the massive load of a cat is wrapped firmly in the old lady’s arms.

“Pudding,” she weeps into his coat, the cat pinning you and the lump at your feet with an ominous, dead-eyed stare over her shoulder. “Oh my sweet, fat bastard— don’t you ever do that again, okay? Oh my sweet baby—”

She turns, mumbling into the fur of her cat as she begins to depart from the tree and make her way back to the house that you presume to be hers. For a moment you forget about the lump at your feet, until you hear it let out a pathetic whimper.

“My reference and commendation…”

You let out another scream, for some reason not at all expecting it to speak words. When you look down, however, you instantly feel guilty.

The thing that fell from the tree was a man and he landed right on his ass.

“Oh wait holy shit are you okay?!” Now that you’re over your fear of being mugged, you run over to the man and pop a concerned squat next to his curled up form. “What the hell were you doing up there? Did you steal that crazy lady’s cat?!”

The male at your feet groaned, bereft. “No, I was helping her get the cat down. Holy shit, my buns…”

You turn your gaze to his heinie, realising that with how hard he hit the ground he very likely has broken something. God, now that you think about it, he could have broken his tailbone. You have a friend that did that in highschool— it wasn’t fun, and it wasn’t pretty. And the thought that this poor man who fell from the tree and scared the absolute shit out of you might have done the same… oh, you felt for him. He attempted to roll and let out a pathetic groan. Oh yeah, he definitely broke it.

“Wait, don’t move! I think you broke your tailbone when you fell! Don’t move too much.” You hurry to halt him, and all he can muster in response is another sad groan.

“God, I- I can’t see…” he dropped his head against the earth, eyes shut. “The light… it’s growing closer.”

“H-hang on!” You panic, hands flying into the air. “We need to get you help! We need to get you to a hospital! Please don’t go into the light!”

The male groans again, and you flounder— you have to get him to the ER! It’s more serious than you thought. Panicked, you scramble for a way to get him up and mobile. Finally, an idea occurs to you, and you survey the man’s lanky form to try and assess how well it’s going to work out. A grimace finds its way to your face.

You’re going to be so sore later.

x     x

For forty minutes, you carried the long-limbed male on your back like nothing but a pack mule. Twenty minutes of that you spent walking, feeling like that Atlas bitch carrying the heaviest thing imaginable on your back and shoulders; and the other twenty was spent taking (read: waiting for) public transport. By the time you arrived to the hospital and got the man on your back checked in (you learned his name is actually Kim Namjoon and he’s a student, much like you), you felt as though at any second you were going to pass out. You still feel like that, actually, as you sit in the chair along the wall across from the male’s bed, which has the curtains drawn as the doctor inspects him, and attempt to recover. You’re sweaty, and gross, and desperately want a coffee. You even considered slipping some of the paper from the mysterious wad in his back pocket before you realised it isn’t money. You didn’t get to see what was on the papers, since you lost interest as soon as you realised it wasn’t cash.

You don’t get to lament too much about it before the curtains are being hauled back, a brightly smiling man greeting you; the doctor appears just as exuberant and overjoyed as when he first walked in.

“Well, good news and bad news!” he chirps, tucking his clipboard under his arm. His nametag reads Dr. Lee Minhyuk, and you can’t help but think that your new friend Sera would probably be frothing at the mouth at the mere sight of him. You catch sight of Namjoon adjusting himself on the bed behind the doctor, cheeks red.

You send the doctor a probing look, knowing he is waiting for a response. He beams, delighted at your acknowledgement.

“Good news first!” the Dr. Lee clicks his heels together before shifting his stance, gesturing his arm widely to Namjoon. “His tailbone is not broken! Thanks to the uneven distribution of his ass cheeks— ahem, sorry, his buttocks— all of the force of impact was absorbed by the, uh, dominant butt cheek, if you will. His tailbone is fine!”

Namjoon chokes behind him at the words that come out, and a part of you is mortified for him but the rest of you finds that too funny to even begin unpacking everything else yet. One of his ass cheeks really pulled a hard carry and did the lord’s work and absorbed all the impact. The power… A sigh of relief escapes you at the doctor’s words, though, and you go to speak up your relief when the doctor cuts you off.

“Whoops, actually I take that back! That’s the bad news— his tailbone isn’t broken, but it is bruised.” Dr Lee clicks his tongue, taking out his clipboard to scribble something short down. He then turns to Namjoon. “I kind of have to go— since you came in through the ER but this isn’t an actual emergency— but I’ll send a nurse in with directions for you on how to manage this, and after that you’ll be free to go. I recommend not climbing any more trees for a while! Also I hope you don’t sleep on your back, that might be a bit difficult like this.”

With that, he clicks his heels once more before saluting you both, and then he’s striding out of the room, off to tend to actual emergencies, you presume. You’d gotten an earful earlier for bringing him to the ER when it wasn’t a life-or-death emergency, but you stand by your decision.

There are a few long moments of silence in the time after the doctor leaves, and you decide to break it by standing and moving to the table beside his bed, where you’d left your phone like a fool. Avoiding his face (he’s still blushing so it’s a courtesy, but also because while sitting and waiting for the doctor you’d realised he really is quite good looking and your mind is having trouble associating that with the man who fell out of the tree earlier), you reach for the phone amongst the water cups and chocolate wrappers, from when he’d emptied his front pockets. He’s a nervous drinker and a hoarder, it seems.

“Wait,” His hand shoots out, long fingers wrapping around your wrist before you can grab your phone. Your heart jumps, perhaps in fright. You look to him with wide eyes. “I’m gonna need you to sign a non-disclosure about what you just heard.”

“I…” you give him a pained look. “Please, tell me you carry them with you at all times. Please. If you don’t tell me, I really might die.”

Namjoon lets out a great, big sigh, releasing your wrist somewhat petulantly. “I don’t�� please hold your tongue until I can print some more.”

More? You’re having a field day with the implication that he has had instances where he’s needed to hand out non-disclosure agreements before, but he seems a little sombre. So instead of mocking him, as per your first instinct, you decide to try and make conversation. You know the nurse is coming soon, but you would feel bad leaving him alone until then. You feel like, having carried him on your back for miles and miles, almost an hour, you’ve really gotten closer and crossed the bridge from strangers to acquaintances.

“So…” you begin, tapping your fingers against your thighs. You search for another nearby chair before grabbing it and pulling it over, flopping down. “What do you study? Where?”

You feel like a new language learner asking questions using only the limited vocab you have, but Namjoon is unphased and answers as though you’d asked him something much more natural.

“CCU,” he says, fingers picking at the threads on his blanket, before he looks up to glance at you. “I’m a music major.”

Surprise filters through you at that, a noise of wonderment escaping before you can really stop it. “Oh! Hey, me too! I think you’re in one of the years above me, though, because I haven’t seen you in any of my classes before.”

Namjoon, who had been somewhat withdrawn and had put up a wall of sorts between you since entering the hospital and regaining control of himself (and a donut cushion to sit on), seems to do an absolute one-eighty at your words. “Oh, your major is music as well? Where are you specialising?”

You tell him with an eager smile, and he responds with one of his own. Just like that, the two of you fall into a conversation that comes much easier than anticipated, talking about your majors and music inside and outside of school. The nurse takes forever and you spend a good amount of time there, just talking to this upperclassmen who happened to fall out of a tree while you were walking past. Eventually, he confides in you about a rough draft of his, something he has really high hopes for. It’s a song called Moonchild, and it’s barely half done but he drums and beat boxes the rough rhythm out for you and you feel your cheeks heat in awe as you listen. That’s amazing, you can’t help but think, and it’s all him. You don’t think you’ve ever liked the demo of a song as much as you like that one.

The afternoon passes with the nurse eventually visiting, and all too soon you’re waiting with the long-legged noodle man at the drop-off and pick-up zone, watching with a note of sadness as a car pulls up and some mint-haired twink that looks vaguely familiar sticks his head out and calls for Namjoon. Namjoon thanks you for your help and bids you farewell, and then he’s climbing into the car with an abrupt wail of pain— he forgot to put his donut down first— before the doors shut and the car is pulling away, disappearing into the dusk and leaving you by your lonesome. You stand a few minutes, before letting out a huff and turning to leave yourself.

The whole way home, and throughout the rest of the week, you can’t help but think about the beautiful tune of moonchild and how it rings serenely through your mind when your thoughts quieten just enough. You hope you get to hear it again, someday; you hope you get to hear it when it’s finally completed and Namjoon’s name is on the credits.

— • masterlist | prev | intermission iii | next • —

{let us know what u think!! who are u rooting for?? who do u think is the muse?? hit us up!! & thank u for reading, btw!}

[nookishposts]

Virtual Ventures

Yesterday, technology crashed head on with emotion in order to equate humour. My Mum’s birthday and Mother’s Day usually occur within a week or less of one another and hence often get lumped together in a family celebration. Our plan since January has been to bring Mum to our rural home for this celebratory week in May 2020, but then Covid-19 changed that, at least for now. I arranged a couple of treats for Mother’s Day, and we spoke by phone as we do every couple of days. For her birthday though, I managed to connect with her next-door neighbour in the apartment building to see if she would be game to host a surprise video call. Mum and Cathy have declared themselves “safe” since the beginning; Cathy’s cat Jack spends most of each day in my Mum’s apartment as he hops between balconies. He has Mum trained thoroughly, she provides him treats and toys and scratches and snuggles and everything but a litter box, which he politely returns home to use. He sometimes requests to come and go via the indoor hallway, so Mum and Cathy are in and out of each other’s units daily to accommodate one mutual furry housemate. Cathy has an iPad, knows my Mum does not do technology of any kind, and readily agreed to help. A little birthday cake had already been safe-distance-dropped off, and Mum knew I would call her at noon. She can be a little wary of surprises and was a bit confused when Cathy came through her door at 12 precisely, singing Happy Birthday and waving a device at her that carried me right into the living room.

“Oh geez, just look at that hair! she exclaimed. Except it wasn’t my unkempt mop she was was talking about, it was her own as she caught sight of herself in the split-screen. However, after a self-conscious minute or two, the full reality of what was happening dawned beautifully along with her big smile.

“Hi Mum! Surprise! Happy Birthday!” I sang.

“God, just look at yours too!” she laughed.

 I guess it has been a while. I asked if I could take her for a little walk around our place and she readily agreed. We visited the chicken coop, the raised garden beds, the lilacs about to bloom, the bird feeders, and Old Holy Moses; a 50 foot ancient tree mostly hollow, full of holes that are home to a bazillion critters of every ilk: bunnies, woodpeckers, red squirrels and so on. I was instructed twice to “slow down, you are blurry and making me carsick!” Yes Ma’am.

I brought us round to one of the porches out back and turned the phone to show her I’d set up two deck chairs, a little table with a red striped cloth, two cups and her wedding teapot. There was a little pot of white tulips, and in lieu of birthday cake, a wedge of cornbread with a candle in it so I could pretend. “ We are going to have cake and tea together so, light the candles on your end, okay?’ 

She said; “Wait, I have 2 questions for you first.”

Me: “Oh. Okay, what?”

Mum: “Am I turning 81 or 82 this year?”

Me; You were born in 1939 so that makes you 81.”  And I watched as she removed a candle from atop her cake...she’d saved the “80″ candle from last year and added two singles next to it. That’s my Mum.

“What’s your second question?” I asked

She picked up her newspaper and a pen: “Its a crossword question: what was Harry Potter’s girlfriend’s name?” she asked, looking over her glasses at me.

“Um...Ginny Weasley?.”

““Great, that’s it, thanks!” and she filled in the blanks, set the paper aside and said: “okay, I’m ready for cake!”

So, there we sat, she with her cake and me with mine, on the sunny porch with the birdsong and the breezes, and Cathy handing her cards and gifts and providing the time-travelling technology for a virtual birthday. After a sip and a swallow, Mum cocked her head and said: “Well, you look pretty good to me.”

You too Mum. You too. With a big lump in my throat and a swell in my heart.

[write-havoc]

This Is How I Disappear Ch. 32

Summary: A girl named Chuck finds herself in the exact place she doesn't want to be, living with violent men in a desolate nursing home. After her former gym teacher finds her, will he be the savior she was looking for?

Fandom: The Walking Dead AU

Pairing: Negan/Original Female Character

Status: Completed (story continues in The Flame Is Gone, The Fire Remains)

Contains: swearing, violence, sexual assault, blood, smut

Readers 18+ of age only

Masterlists in my bio

Chuck turns her head on the pillow to look at the clock. 10:14 am. She stretches her legs out and sits up to stretch her arms. She feels her stomach lurch and hurries to the bathroom to empty the contents of her stomach into the toilet. Because she hasn’t even eaten yet, it’s not much. She wipes her mouth and turns around to sit on the toilet relieve her full bladder.

“Baby, what are you doing to me?” she wonders out loud in frustration as she rubs her naked stomach.

As she walks by the large mirror over the sink to leave the room, she pauses. She looks at herself turned to the side in the mirror and examines her body. It does look different to her. Her breasts are larger and sporting some visible veins that were never there before. And her stomach is bigger. It could be confused for bloating if someone doesn’t know she is pregnant, but her stomach is still bigger.

She giggles and leaves the bathroom, grabbing Negan’s dirty shirt from yesterday and pulling it over her head. She looks out of the window for a moment, chewing on the dry toast that she made to settle her stomach, and decides that it is a nice day to read outside. The sun is shining bright in the sky and the weather looks perfect.

She takes a quick shower then heads out to Negan’s office to play with the cats for a little bit. Negan had brought up a bunch of cat toys for the animals and a couple more covered litter boxes, to Sam and Jose’s chagrin. It is their job to scoop the litter boxes at the beginning of their shifts to make sure Negan’s office stays as clean as possible. The kittens are getting bigger and Chuck loves to watch them run around Negan’s office chasing each other and playing. She and Negan even named all of them. Chuck named the momma cat Creamsicle. And the kittens are Larry, Curly, and Moe, courtesy of Negan.

The cats keep Chuck company as she sits on the couch in the office and knits more of her blanket. The dangling yarn grabs the cats’ attention for a little bit until they get bored of it in favor of wrestling with each other.

At lunchtime, Chuck makes herself a sandwich and eats it slowly, trying to make sure she keeps it down. After that, Chuck walks across the hall and picks out a navy blue flowy sundress and pairs it with the ankle strap heels Negan had mentioned the day before. Her long hair is pulled into the sleekest bun she can manage to finish off the look.

Chuck grabs a few books and heads to her picnic table outside to read. Her heels dig awkwardly into the gravel that surrounds the table as she situates herself on the bench. The sun is a little hotter than Chuck had thought, so she plans to move to her shadowy tree when it gets too uncomfortable for her. Someone else apparently was reading her mind, because a large shadow covers her from behind.

Chuck turns her head to see what it is and is greeted by Simon carrying a large parasol. She laughs at the sight. “What is this?” she asks with a huge smile on her face.

Simon twirls the parasol a little and wedges it in a gap in the slats on the picnic table, casting the table, and Chuck in shadow. “I saw you out here and remembered seeing this thing in the warehouse. Thought you might need it.”

“I do!” she says appreciatively. “I was just thinking about moving to my shady tree around back.”

His face falls a little. “Well, now you can stay here instead. You know, stay out front.”

She gives him a soft smile. She figures that the mention of the back reminded him about when she was attacked. Which is still a sore spot for him. He feels guilty about not stopping the it. “Yeah. Of course,” she tries to say in a casual tone, hoping whatever bad things he is thinking about would leave his mind and assuring him that she is really alright.

He sits down across from her. ���What are you reading today?”

“I, robot.”

“Like the movie?”

She laughs. “Yeah. The movie was based on this. But it’s different. The book is just a bunch of short stories about robots.”

He gives her a goofy smile. “Robots are pretty cool.”

“They are cool,” she agrees playfully. “You think there are still people out there working on that kinda stuff?”

Simon ponders it while he scratches his cheek. “I don’t know. Probably somewhere. Somewhere where the dead aren’t a problem.”

“You think places like that exist?”

“Well,” he rests his elbows on the table. “There are remote islands. And villages on mountains and shit.”

“Hmm. Yeah. You’re right.”

He shrugs and gets up. He takes his knife out and starts to carve into the table right underneath the parasol pole.

Chuck reads aloud what he wrote. “Do not touch. Property of Simon.” She giggles.

“There,” he puts his knife away. “Now you’ll always have a place to read outside. And you won’t have to worry about burning that lily white skin of yours.”

She giggles again. “Thank you. And my skin thanks you. I don’t need anymore freckles.”

“I wouldn’t say that. They’re cute.” He looks at her for a few moments. Then his smile fades. He drops his head then brings it back up, this time with a fake smile on his face. “I better get going. See ya later, kiddo.”

“Yeah bye, Simon.”

When he is out of sight, Chuck lets out a sigh.

  Poor Simon. What can I do to make this better for him?

 Chuck knows Simon’s still trying to deal with her pregnancy. Whenever he talks to her, he doesn’t really mention it. Like he’s trying not to think about it. And Chuck doesn’t bring it up, afraid that it would hurt him.

She reads for a while longer until her stomach starts to grumble. She grabs her books and gets up from the table. After a few steps, the gravel pulls her heel awkwardly which causes her to lose her footing. She goes down on her hands and knees in the gravel, not especially hard, but hard enough to make her hiss out in pain.

She picks herself up and brushes the dirt from her hands and knees. She notices some blood dripping from a cut on her knee and running down her leg.

A sigh leaves her lips as she looks the wound over. “Great.” It isn’t a huge cut, but it still needs to be cleaned and covered. She gathers up her books from the ground and enters the building, headed for the infirmary.

 ——— Negan’s POV ———

We pull through the gates to The Sanctuary and everyone gets out of the fuckin’ trucks. I walk back to the truck that Harlan is in and gesture for him to follow me. I see Simon come out of the building, so I walk the fuck over to him with a huge fuckin’ smile on my face.

Simon looks at the man beside me and then to me. “Everything went well, I assume.”

“Yes indeedy it did go fuckin’ well. And I think we are well on our way to a beautiful fuckin’ friendship with those Hill-folk. Anything happen around here while I was out?”

“Nope. Pretty typical day.”

“Good good.” I scratch my beard. “Harlan, this here is my right hand man Simon. And Simon, this here is Hilltop’s Dr. Harlan Carson.”

“Carson?” Simon asks with scrunched up eyebrows.

Harlan holds his hand out and shakes Simon’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Yup. He’s a Carson. He just so happens to be our Dr. Carson’s kid fuckin’ brother.”

Simon laughs. “No shit?”

“And he also happens to be a fuckin’ obgyn.”

Simon looks confused. “O-B-G what?”

Harlan answers. “Doctor of obstetrics and gynecology. Obgyn.”

I butt in. “He delivers babies.”

Simon looks at me with wide eyes. “Oh.”

“Welp. Let’s get to the fuckin’ infirmary to get this little family reunion on the road.”

Me and Harlan continue into the building while Simon stays outside to help with the trucks. We walk through and I start to talk about the place. Really talk it up so Harlan will see how fuckin’ awesome it is here. Just up ahead, I see a figure enter my hallway from another one. I see her look around and then turn to me.

Everything drops away from me as I look at her. The only thing I can see is blood. Blood running down the inside of Chuck’s leg.

I think she says something, but I don’t fuckin’ hear it as I run to her.

“No! No no no. Not this!”

I scoop her up in my arms and run her to the infirmary. I can still hear her voice, but I don’t know what the fuck she’s saying. I hear my voice, too, coming out of me like it is someone else’s.

“Fuck, no! Not again!”

I kick the door open and set her in the bed.

“It’s fuckin’ dying! She’s losing the baby!”

Everything around me is a fuckin’ blur. I’m breathing so hard that I think my fuckin’ lungs would burst. My vision starts to tunnel. All of my fuckin’ muscles are tensed and shaking.

The doc isn’t doing fuckin’ anything! Why the fuck isn’t he doing anything!?

Chuck stands up from the bed. I try to push her back down. She needs attention!

“SHE’S HAVING A FUCKING MISCARRIAGE! DO SOMETHING!”

Chuck grabs ahold of my face and shakes me. She is fuckin’ yelling at me, but all I hear is buzzing. What is she fucking yelling?!

��——   ———

 “Negan, calm down! I’m fine! The baby’s fine!” Chuck stands from the bed, but Negan pushes her back down onto it. “Negan, stop! Calm down!”

Negan looks around wildly before he screams, “SHE’S HAVING A FUCKING MISCARRIAGE! DO SOMETHING!”

Chuck stands and grabs ahold of his face. “I’m fine! Listen to me! The baby’s fine!”

He tries to push her back to the bed again, but she slaps him across the face, stopping him.

“NEGAN, STOP!” she screams.

He brings his hand up to his face and looks at Chuck. The jolt seems to snap him out of it.

“I cut my knee! I’m not miscarrying!”

He looks down to her knee, then back up to her face. He drops his hand from his cheek and turns his head to face Carson and the new man that had followed him in the room. “Give her an ultrasound. Now,” he growls. Negan pushes Chuck to lay down on the bed and starts to pull her skirt up to expose her belly.

“Negan!” She slaps his hands away. “There’s someone else in the room.” She nods her head toward the newcomer.

Carson lifts his head from the ultrasound machine that he is pulling closer to the bed. “It’s okay, Charlotte. This is my brother. He’s a doctor, too.”

Chuck looks from Carson to the other man.

“I’m Dr. Harlan Carson. I’m an obgyn and... I assume you’re pregnant.” He holds out his hand and Chuck shakes it meekly.

“Uh, yeah.” She looks back to Negan, who is still out of breath and then back to the other Dr. Carson. “Y-You’re Dr. Carson’s brother?” she asks confused.

Negan lets out a growl beside her.

Harlan looks to Negan and then pats Chuck’s shoulder. “Why don’t we check you out first and then we can chat later.”

“Uh... Oh, okay.” She knows Negan is still agitated and being impatient. “I just tripped outside and scraped my knee. I didn’t hit my stomach or anything. I didn’t even fall that hard, really. I just happened to land on a sharp rock,” she explains, hoping to calm everyone down.

Negan helps her pull her dress all the way up to her chest and Carson covers her legs with a blanket.

“How far along are you?” Harlan asks casually as he squirts the gel on the wand and starts to spread it on her stomach.

“Ten weeks,” she answers.

Negan grabs Chuck’s hand and squeezes it tight as Harlan turns the machine on and starts to move the wand over her stomach. All eyes are on the screen as the picture emerges.

“And there’s baby,” Harlan announces as he points to the baby on the screen with his free hand. He pushes a button and the heartbeat echoes through the room. He listens to it for a few moments before he pushes the button again, turning the speaker off, and looks at the screen. “Everything looks good. You have a perfectly healthy and normal baby at ten weeks.” He smiles down at Chuck and she smiles back.

Chuck turns to smile at Negan, but he looks completely stoic, still breathing heavily.

Negan leans forward and wraps his hand around the wand, taking it from Harlan and says, “Get the fuck out,” to the doctors.

Harlan looks confused and turns to his brother. Carson immediately ushers Harlan out of the room without a word.

When the door closes, Negan turns to Chuck. “Do it,” he says with no emotion.

“What?” she asks, confused.

“Do it.” He wiggles the wand in his hand. “Get the fuckin’ picture back up.” He points to the screen with his other hand as he stares at it.

Chuck takes the wand from him and begins to move it back over her stomach. It takes a few moments for her to get the picture back up, but she does.

Negan leans over to push the button Harlan had pressed to turn the speaker back on. The heartbeat fills the room once more and the pair look to the screen. After staring at their baby for several minutes, Chuck turns her head to Negan. His eyes are still glued to the screen and tears are streaming down his face.

“Oh, Negan,” she chokes out as her own tears begin to spill out of her eyes. She moves the wand off of her stomach to hug Negan, but he stops her.

“No,” he chokes out quietly. “Please.” He never moves his eyes from the screen.

“Okay, Negan.” Chuck lays back down and gets the baby back on the screen.

After a few moments, Negan starts to speak. “Lucille got pregnant twice.” His eyes are still on the screen, never straying. “Neither of my babies made it to the second trimester. The first one died at six fuckin’ weeks. We never even got to the fuckin’ ultrasound. We were married a year. It wasn’t a fuckin’ planned pregnancy, but we were so goddamn happy when the test was positive.” He wipes his hand down his face to rid it of his tears. “After that, she got cancer, so we couldn’t... Not with the fuckin’ chemo. When she went into remission, they said she might not be able to get pregnant. But we fuckin’ tried anyway. For fuckin’ years. And it finally happened.” He lets out a heavy breath. “Ten weeks.” His voice cracks as he says it. “A week after our first ultrasound. I got to see my baby once. Then we lost it.” He shakes his head. “The doctors told us it probably wouldn’t fuckin’ happen again after that. It didn’t.” He finally looks down at her.

“I’m so sorry, Negan,” she chokes out. Her heart breaks for Negan and Lucille at what they went through.

He gets up and takes the wand from her, setting it in its place and then wheeling the machine back to the wall. He grabs a towel and moves back to wipe the gel off of Chuck.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks as he runs the towel over her stomach.

“No.”

“Did I scare you?”

“A little. But I understand.”

He nods sadly and pulls her dress back down her legs. She jumps up and throws her arms around his shoulders in a hug. He wraps his own arms around her waist and squeezes her to him.

She runs her fingers through his hair as he nuzzles into her neck. “It’s okay, Negan. It’s okay to be scared.”

They cling to each other for a few minutes before Negan pulls back.

“Shit. You still need your knee fuckin’ patched up.” He opens the door and calls out into the hall, “Come on, docs. Get the fuck in here.”

Chuck sits down on the bed and waits for the doctors to come back in. Carson wastes no time in looking at her knee.

“So you guys are really brothers?” she asks.

“Yes,” Carson answers with a smile as he works on the cut on her knee.

“So what should I call you guys? You’re both Dr. Carson.”

Harlan answers. “He’s your doctor, so he can be Dr. Carson. Just call me Harlan.”

When Carson finishes up, Negan tells Chuck to go upstairs. He then directs Harlan to follow him as he goes to the second floor meeting room.

 ——— Negan’s POV ———

I sit at the head of the table and set Lucille down in front of me. I fuckin’ dropped her in the hall when I went running to Chuck. Fuck. That’s the first fuckin’ time that’s happened. Fat Joey picked her up for me and waited for me to leave the infirmary, so he could fuckin’ give her back to me.

I gesture to my left for Harlan to take his fuckin’ seat.

“Well, Doctor Harlan Carson,” I say as I rest my elbows on the table. “I’m not gonna fuckin’ lie to you. I want you to stay here. I know you haven’t gotten the fuckin’ ten cent tour of my place, but I can assure you that you will be safe here. Well fed. Respected.”

Harlan squirms in his seat. Shit. He’s not gonna fuckin’ stay.

“I’m not saying you have to make your decision right fuckin’ now. You can take a few days. Hang out with your big bro. Get a fuckin’ feel for the place. And if you wanna stay, I will welcome you with open fuckin’ arms.” I scratch my beard. “And if you want to leave, well, we’ll get you back home safe and fuckin’ sound. I guarantee it.”

Harlan looks at me a bit nervously. “That’s very generous, Negan. But Hilltop is my home. And I have patients there I can’t leave.”

I try not to get fuckin’ angry. All I want to do is fuckin’ demand that he stay. But I’m trying to do this shit differently. “I’m a little fuckin’ disappointed, doc. But it is your choice.”

He nods. “That’s your first child, right? First time dads can be a little overprotective, so I get why you’d want me here full time to take care of baby and mother.”

Fuck. I didn’t want him to know Chuck was pregnant with my kid. I was gonna talk to her first about seeing him. Fuckin’ tell her not to say the kid was mine. But I fucked that up when I freaked the fuck out in front of him. Now another goddamn group will know about my weakness.

“Look, Harlan.” I let out a sigh. “I have enemies. Being a fuckin’ leader of a group will do that. Her being pregnant... It can be dangerous for her if the fuckin’ wrong people found out.” I let out a heavy breath. “If anyone hurt her to try to get to me, nothing would stop me from getting my fuckin’ vengeance on everyone involved. Nothing.” I glare at him. He better fuckin’ get what I’m telling him.

Harlan gulps. “I know the world has changed, but I still operate the same way I always have. Doctor/patient confidentiality still stands with me. And I would never put one of my patients in danger. I won’t tell anyone about her or the baby. You have my word.”

I study his face. He isn’t fuckin’ lying. “Good.”

“I can come back every few weeks to check up on her, if you like. And I’m sure my brother can tend to her without me, even though he’s not a licensed obgyn. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

“Yeah... Carson’s delivered a few fuckin’ babies over his time here.” I rub my hand down my face. I’m trying to calm my-fuckin’-self down with that. “We have another pregnant woman here, too. She’s further along than Chuck. You can fuckin’ check her out, too, while you’re here.”

I raise my radio to my fuckin’ mouth. “Dwight. Get the fuck to the meeting room.”

“I’m close by, sir. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Dwight walks in a couple minutes later.

“Our guest here will be staying a few days. Find him a room and escort him down to the infirmary.”

“Yes, sir.”

I turn to Harlan. “Get big bro to give you the lay of the land.”

They fuckin’ leave and I head up to my room.

———   ———

 As soon as Chuck gets upstairs, she goes to her room to change out of her dress and heels in favor for an oversized T-shirt and sleep shorts. She puts on the pair of fuzzy slippers that Negan had brought up for her and goes back into Negan’s apartment. She bums around for a bit before she decides to start dinner.

She settles on spaghetti because they have some of Negan’s sauce still leftover in the refrigerator and it is a quick meal. She isn’t sure when Negan is going to come back up, but she is too hungry to wait much longer. It doesn’t take too long for the food to cook and just as she sits down with her plate, Negan comes in.

“Perfect timing,” Chuck calls out. “I just finished up with dinner.”

“Thank fuck. I’m starving.” Negan gives her a kiss on the forehead before he goes into his room.  He comes back out, without Lucille and his jacket and grabs a plate.

“It’s crazy that you ran across Dr. Carson’s brother,” Chuck says with a chuckle. “What are the odds?” She figures that bringing up the other thing that happened today isn’t a good idea. If Negan wants to talk about it, he’ll bring it up himself.

“Pretty fuckin’ good, apparently.” He grabs a plate and fills it with the food still sitting on the stove. Then, he sits down at the table.

“Where did you find him?” Chuck doesn’t know much about where Negan went today. All he said was that he was helping out a community.

He lets out a tense breath. “He’s the doc for a fuckin’ place called Hilltop.”

“Oh. Is it big? The settlement?”

He takes a bite. “Not really. They’re a bunch of fuckin’ farmers.”

“Oh, wow! That’s great. I mean, this world needs farmers.” She takes a bite of her own.

“Yeah. We’re gonna be getting shit from them from now on. Produce and shit. Stuff we don’t fuckin’ have here.”

“Like what?”

He smirks at her. “I want to fuckin’ surprise you.” He takes a bite and chews it with a big smile on his face.

She giggles. “Okay.” She takes another bite. “What are you helping them out with?”

His smile drops and he looks away. “No, baby girl.”

“What? What is it?”

He shakes his head. “There’s ugly fuckin’ shit out there.”

“I know, Negan. You don’t have to hide that stuff from me.”

He lets out a sigh and looks up to her. “These Hilltop people aren’t fighters. They don’t even have fuckin’ guns. And another group has been attacking their scavengers and scouts. Killed a bunch of them.”

“Oh, no,” she whispers.

Negan lets out an even bigger sigh. “Some of the scavengers were women. And they weren’t killed. They were fuckin’ taken.”

Chuck feels a chill go through her body. “Taken?”

“Yeah.” He runs his hand down his jaw. “We’re gonna find them. Get those women home fuckin’ safe and sound.”

She looks down and nods. “That’s good.” She feels so bad for those women, knowing what they must be going through.

“Baby girl, just finish your dinner, please.”

She nods again and takes a bite.

“I’m gonna try to get Harlan to fuckin’ stay for you.”

“Does the Hilltop have another doctor?”

He gives her a look. “No.”

“Then I don’t want him to stay.”

“Come on, baby girl. He’s a baby doctor and you have a fuckin’ baby in you.”

“Are there pregnant women at this Hilltop place?”

He doesn’t answer her, but takes a bite instead.

“Is that a ‘yes’?”

He lets out a huff. “There’s at least one pregnant lady.”

“Then he needs to be there.”

Negan lets out a huff and pushes his empty plate aside. “No matter fuckin’ what, he’s checking up on you fuckin’ often. Amber, too.”

“Then there’s no problem.” She gives him a warm look, but receives a nervous one in return. “I understand you’re nervous about... complications. But we have Carson here. And Kayla. And Harlan can travel here if we need him. How far away is Hilltop?”

“Too far.”

She looks down, unsure if she can say anything to assuage his fears. “I’m fine, Negan. Everything will be okay-“

She is interrupted by Negan’s radio going off.

“Sir, we got word from the team following the barbarians. They followed them to some farmhouse they use as their base.”

Negan stands up and points to Chuck’s plate. “Finish eating.” He walks into the office and starts to bark orders into the radio.

Chuck takes his order to mean “Don’t come into the office,” so she doesn’t. She just finishes up with her dinner and leaves Negan to his official business.

[signutai]

12 w/ Mbat and Zenko | 100 w/ Drill and Kama | 90 w/ anyone do ur worst | 24 w/ Drill | 94 w/ Tareo and Garou