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buckthegrump · 4 years

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IBTHNTTTY - 10

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Y/n hates Bucky Barnes. Absolutely loathes him what makes it worse is that she has to share her office with him. Now with a promotion on the horizon she has to find a way to work with him and not against him.

Word Count: 1464

Warnings: this one has a lot of fluff, swears, sickness stuff, your welcome

A/n: this fic is just the gift that keeps on giving

The next time Y/n opened her eyes, there was an obscenely beautiful black man with his face directly in front of her. She squinted at him.

“How are you feeling?” The strange man asked.

“Like everything is on fire,” she answered, “Who are you?”

“I’m Sam. I’m a doctor.”

“What kind of doctor?” Y/n flipped onto her back. “Because with my luck, you’re some kind of ass doctor.”

She hadn’t realized that doctors still did house calls.

“I’m a physician, so I’m equipped to handle almost everything. So no, I don’t specialize in asses. But I could make an exception for yours.” Sam smiled at her.

“Even if I wasn’t sick, that line would make me gag.” Speaking of which, her stomach lurched again.

“C’mon, Sunflower,” Bucky spoke from her other side. He was still on the bed, his hand now on her hairline. His thumb was gently stroking her forehead. “You gotta sit up so he can check you out.”

“Oh, so he can also specialize in my boobs?” Y/n teased as she sat up.

“Making jokes even with a fever of 104,” Sam said, nodding, “I like this one, Barnes.”

“Stop flirting with your patient,” Bucky grumbled.

Sam took her temperature and looked at her throat. While he was doing all this, Y/n’s eyes were trained on Bucky. His eyes were bouncing between her and Sam, he never actually made eye contact with her, but he looked at her.

As she looked, no, gazed at him. Because that’s what she was doing, gazing up at him like a lovesick fool. And she was decidedly not in love, she was however sick. But she was trying to remember why he called her sunflower. He’d been doing it since their first week together.

Had he seen the tattoo on her upper thigh? No, there hadn’t been an opportunity for that. Except for last night. This morning? When had she gone home from work?

“What day is it?” She asked, completely forgetting about her other question. She laid back down, not having the strength to sit up for much longer.

“It’s still Friday,” Bucky answered.

She opened her mouth to make a snarky remark but closed it and gagged again.

“Bucky claims that your temp spiked to 104, but it’s dropped back to a cool 102. So unless it spikes again and stays at 104 for longer than thirty minutes, you should be fine,” Sam said. “Barnes, flush her with fluids. Don’t let her die from dehydration.”

“Thanks, Sam,” Bucky said. He was obviously trying to rush him out the door, but Doctor Sam wasn’t having it.

Sam turned to Y/n smiling. “Give me a call once you’re better. I’ll take you to a fancy restaurant and let you order anything off the menu.”

“Goodbye, Samuel!” Bucky ordered.

“Gesh, I’m going.” Sam sent her a wink over his shoulder. “Tony says to stop ignoring his calls!”

“Tell him I’m not ignoring them, I’m a little busy. And he doesn’t have to call me all the time.”

The door slammed, and Bucky turned his attention to Y/n again. This time, he made eye contact with her.

“How are you feeling?” He asked.

“Better, but I’m cold again.”

“That would be the fever,” Bucky sighed. He sank down, so he was lying next to her. She snuggled into his right side, he stilled at the movement. He took a deep breath and unfroze.

“Why do you call me sunflower? And why does Tony Stark ‘check-up’ on you? Are you some sort of genius?” She mumbled into his side.

“The first day we worked in the office together, there was a bouquet of sunflowers on your desk -”

“They were from my parents. Sunflowers are my favorite,” she whispered.

“Yeah, I know. The fact that your family sends them to you every year on your birthday or any other significant day kind of gave you away. And if that hadn’t been a giveaway, your tattoo would’ve clued me in.” She could hear the smile in his voice.

“How did you -” That’s when she realized that her shirt and sheets had been changed. “You’ve seen my boobies.”

“No, you changed your own shirt,” he chuckled, “You didn’t even wait for me to look away. Luckily, I have quick reflexes. But your little sunflower did peek out a few times. It’s cute.”

“Have you ever wanted to see my boobies?”

“Do you really want to know the answer to that? Because if I say yes, you will think I’m a pig who only ever thinks about women to sexualize them. On the flip side of that, if I say no, you might be offended that I wouldn’t want to see your bosom.”

“Well, knowing that you are the kind of person that says bosom, I’m leaning towards you saying no,” she chuckled.

“I just edited a romance novel. It was the first thing that came to mind that wasn’t tits,” Bucky said. Y/n laughed, a little obnoxiously for someone who was sick, but she couldn’t help it.

“Well, I forgive you for not saying tits while I’m all sweaty and gross.” She draped her arm across his stomach. “I’m sorry that I’m getting you all sweaty. And thank you for changing my sheets.”

“It’s no problem, sunflower. Now, go to sleep.”

“You’ll be here when I wake up?” Her body was exhausted, her eyes already closed.

“I’d never leave you,” he whispered, but Y/n wasn’t sure if she’d heard him correctly or if she would remember this when she woke up.

* * *

Y/n went in and out of consciousness. Oftentimes, Bucky was still there by her side. At one point, he’d changed into different clothes, not ones she recognized but definitely not the ones he’d worn to work on Friday.

There were a few times when Bucky hadn’t been in bed with her, but she heard him in the kitchen fussing about. He’d returned before she fell back asleep and made her take some sort of medicine and force-fed her broth. Ok, maybe he didn’t force-feed it to her, but there was absolutely him spoon-feeding her like an infant.

“I can feed myself, ya know,” she said. He made an oh-my-apologies-your-majesty face and held out the spoon for her. “No, I don’t want to.”

“Then quit complaining,” Bucky said. He returned to feeding her quietly. They sat there in silence; the only sound in the room was the occasional clink of the spoon hitting the bowl. “When you called yourself unloveable. . . Do you believe that?”

“I have no proof that it’s wrong,” she wiped her chin of a dribble that almost ran down her neck, “and that was more about romantic love than any other type of love.”

Bucky stared at her after putting the now-empty bowl down. Y/n, who was feeling better, was still a little sick and still a rambler. So she stupidly opened her mouth so more words could fall out.

“That time I told you about the corn maze? It’s the one and only date I’ve ever been on, until recently. But I don’t really count that as a date, given the outcome. And no one’s ever tried to kiss me. Not that I haven’t kissed anyone, but it was never in a romantic sense. It was once or twice for a play. And then once while I was drunk at a party, and that was the quickest of pecks.” She gasped, preparing herself to continue.

“Am I not attractive enough? I know I’m not a classic beauty or very hot. . . I just want to be desired by someone.” Y/n looked down at her lap. She was unable to look at him; she couldn’t risk the pity that was undoubtedly in his eyes. Hit with another wave of exhaustion, she laid back down, mumbling thanks to Bucky before drifting back to sleep.

* * *

Being asleep while sick had always been weird for Y/n. It was almost as if she was never truly asleep for most of it, at least after the first day.

Which is why she wasn’t sure it had happened. It was definitely a dream, but a small part of her had hoped it was real.

“I think you’re beautiful and very desirable. I don’t get how you’ve gone this long, thinking that no one will ever love you the way you want to be loved. It blows my mind that no one has even tried.” Bucky’s fingers lightly traced shapes across her arm that was still over his stomach. Or it had returned to his stomach. In her dream, and probably in real life as well, she pressed herself closer to him. “One of these days I’m going to have to tell you that.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes au

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george-mackay-macfine · 5 years

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Dear Diary prt. 6

A/N sorry I’m a idiot, who doesn’t post things properly, here is the second go at the next part of Dear Diary.

Requested:

Word Count: 6,000

September 29th, 2011

Dear Diary,

Sorry I haven’t had the chance to write much over the last few days, Classes have just started and things are crazy, but to quickly update you.

Living with two boys is easier than I thought it would be. They’re both respectful, and I haven’t seen any stray penis’ yet. Which is a good thing I suppose,

Harry is still seeing that girl, Elle. She’s actually really nice… Even if she is over far too much for my liking… Sometimes a girl just wants to come home from class, have a red wine and sit on her settee without having to engage in small talks with her roommate’s booty calls.

Henry and I have gotten to be good friends. We walk to class together nearly every morning. Talking mostly about boys… Mostly George, and how pathetic I am.

Well, mostly it’s me complaining about how pathetic I am, and Henry telling me to shut up.

Speaking of George, after lunch the other day I came home and had a solid cry before pretending my heart hadn’t been ripped out of my chest and trodden all over ONLY to go out into the living room to find George, Dean, Harry, Elle and Henry starting the first Harry Potter movie.

Let me tell you, sitting between a guy who you nearly… well, you remember, and a guy you want to kiss is not a comfortable experience.

It’s going to be a great year, I can tell already.

October 13th, 2011

Dear Diary,

So it’s been fourteen days since I last updated you. That is fourteen days since I had to sit between George and Harry for 159 whole minutes. Shoulders bumping against one and other as either of us shuffled.

Don’t even get me started on how uncomfortable it was to see Harry whisper in Elle’s ear as she hung over her lap when not even a week prior he and I were curled up with one and other about to make out on some random’s bed.

George and I are okay. As far as he know’s we’re just friends. I don’t have a crush on him.

Did you read that?

I do not have a crush on him.

School’s pretty good, going okay. A lot of course work, but what else should I have expected when I decided to study medicine?

Not sure if I really want to keep doing it, but for now. It’s all I’ve got going for me.

The big event that everyone is looking forward to this month is Halloween. That guy who threw the party, you know the one where ‘the incident’ happened is throwing another huge bash.

Harry, Dean, Henry, George, Elle, Jordan and I have decided to go as comic book characters, and right now I’m tossing up between Scarlett Witch, Black Widow, Poison Ivy or Batgirl. Still not sure though.

Do I be a villain or a hero?

October 18th, 2011

Dear Diary,

We finally decided on our costumes, or rather Elle did. She’s studying costuming at Uni and has decided she’ll make both mine and her costumes for the party.

I’ll be Poison Ivy, she’ll be Bat Girl, George is going to be the Joker, Harry is going as Batman, Henry is going as Robin, Dean is going as Superman and Jordan is going as the Riddler.

Not my choice to be Poison Ivy, but I really don’t have it in me to argue with them especially with how insane classes have been.

Talk to you soon.

October 23rd, 2011

Dear Diary,

This costume…. Christ on a bike…

I know the saying goes ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’ but I can’t not judge this. Elle is pretty much demanding I have either my boobs or my arse out. She’d rather both, I’d rather none. I’m not sure how exactly to say no without it sounding like ‘No, sorry Elle I have self-respect, even though Halloween is the time you’re not meant to,’ without her taking offence to it.

Speaking of Elle, she’s still being nice enough. She and Harry are still seeing one and other. They’ve toned their PDA down to a minimum, which is good because Dean and I have had to stop each other, and ourselves from throwing a bucket of cold water over them once or twice.

Harry’s started speaking to me again, which is good. We’re almost past that awkward, ‘We nearly made out, but we didn’t, but we would have if we’d had the chance’ stage, which is good.

We’ve got two days until the Halloween party, and that means two days until I need to wear this ridiculous costume.

Save me,

October 26th, 2011

Dear future Y/N,

Congratulations.

You’re a fucking idiot.

The biggest idiot, If all the idiots of the world, moved into a community together, created a nation. You’d be their fucking Queen…

Perhaps in your years of maturing, you’ve become less of an idiot, though with how we behaved last night I’d doubt it.

Let’s recap shall we?

October 25th, 2011

Its Halloween, and I’m sweating like a pig. Absolutely sweating,

I don’t know how else to put it.

The costume Elle had designed and made me fit like a glove. Perhaps too much like a glove. The green bodysuit was embellished with ivy leaves and gold glitter, a garland of flowers wrapped around my waist.

“Y/N? Are you ready?” Elle’s voice called through the door. “Do you need help with a hook or something?”

“No, I’m fine… I just… Can you send… Can you send Henry in? Just need to talk to him for a second.” I called still looking at myself in the mirror. My breath hitched again as I pictured myself walking out into the living room where everyone was waiting.

“You right babe?” Henry smiled as he peeked around the door. I looked away from the mirror, turning my head over my shoulder. “What’s the matter?” He stepped around the door, shutting it behind him.

“How do you know if you’re having an anxiety attack?” I moved my hands up and down, shaking my head. “Because I think I’m having one.”

“What?”

“God, I’m stupid.” I shook my head. “How stupid was I to think I could walk out those doors and pretend this was me? That I would ever be comfortable showing this much skin, I haven’t shown this much skin since I was born.” I leant forward, stomach suddenly turning “Everyone is going to laugh at me.”

“What was that?”

“I can’t do this Henry.” I motioned down to the costume. “I can’t go out there in this, I look horrible.”

“Are you mental?” He grabbed onto my shoulders and put me in front of the mirrors. “You look fantastic Y/N.”

“Are you mental?” I shot back at him. “How am I supposed to walk out there and face everyone? I’ve seen how Elle looks, how all you boys look… How am I supposed to stand next to her, next to any of you.” I whispered trying to keep my voice down.

“Firstly, you look ten times better than she does. Secondly, I don’t think anyone will be looking at any of us with you there.” He ran a hand comfortingly down my arm. “Come ere’.” He pulled me into his chest, arms wrapping around me. “You’re going to walk out of this room, and every set of eyes are going to be on you, no matter their sexual preference.” He pushed me back so he could look down at me. “You look amazing, I promise you Y/N.”

“Henry…”

“Just trust me Y/N.” He smiled. “You ready?”

“I think so,” I nodded my head. “Thanks.”

“We’ll do it together.” He pulled me towards the door. “You really do look fantastic Y/N.”

“You’re just saying that so we can leave.” He cracked a smile and shook his head.

“I bloody am not.”

“Let’s go in there, the parties started.” Jordan’s voice boomed through the door. “What are you guy’s doing in there, fucking?”

“Shut the fuck up Jordan.” I heard Dean yell. “Show some damn respect.”

“I’m ready,” I called back taking a deep breath through my nose watching as Henry pulled open the door. The fluorescent light from the kitchen hurt my eyes as I stepped out. “Sorry, I just needed him for a minute.” I looked over Dean and Jordan. “Nice costume boys.” I smiled at Jordan’s question mark suit and Dean’s fake muscles.

“Fuck me…Y/N,” Jordan shook his head.

“Is it too much?” I looked to Elle who was smiling her head off. “Elle said it was what she wore in the comics?”

“It is.” She piped up, her black cape swaying around her body. “It’s made off multiple illustrations I saw when I was researching.”

“Y/N,” I turned to George whose eyes were on my chest… “You look.” He cleared his throat shrugging off his velvet purple dress coat. “You might need this.” He stumbled over his words. “Cold out,” I stepped forward and took the jacket. “Do you need help.” He moved behind me and helped me slip the jacket on. “You look…” He started again, words cutting off.

“Let’s go, shall we? MacKay is officially lost for words.” I turned to Harry, his eyes were on my face. I couldn’t help myself but give him what I’m sure was a pathetic half-smile as George finished helping me with his jacket.

“You all look great.” I looked over the group. Elle looked gorgeous in her Bat Girl outfit standing beside Harry with his black batman costume. “I’m sure you guys will get all the girls tonight.” I smiled at Dean and Jordan in their Superman and Riddler outfits.

“What about me?” George whispered in my ear, I turned around and looked at him. Even in his own version of Heath Ledger’s Joker costume, he looked unbelievably hot.

“We got two cars this time,” Harry called again. “C’mon Elle,” I turned in time to see him pulling Elle towards the door as he spoke, nearly running down the hallway.

“Guess he can’t wait to get a drink.” Henry chuckled holding the door open for the rest of us as we filed out.

“Never seen him run so bloody fast,” Dean added. “Not even on the field,” He chuckled.

“We should hurry. The cabs are probably waiting.” I smiled at Henry linking our arms together. “Ride with me?” I looked up at him, waiting for his answer.

“I’ll ride with you Y/N,” Henry and I both turned to look at Jordan as he levelled up beside us. “You look hot tonight Y/N.”

“Don’t even try it, Jordan.” Dean’s hand grabbed onto his shoulder pulling him backwards. “For that comment, you’re with Harry and Elle.”

“Don’t do that to me, I don’t want to be with the PDA King and Queen.”

“Shouldn’t have been a prick then.” He chuckled throwing an arm around his shoulder. “Enjoy the kiss, kiss, kissing.” He chuckled pulling the shorter guy in closer.

“C’mon let’s go party,” I called sarcastically to the group as I pulled Henry even faster down the hallway, to what I’m sure was a night of pure misery and horrible mistakes.

Stale piss and old tennis shoes.

From the minute we walked in the door’s it’s all I could smell, and no matter how much this place was scrubbed from top to bottom, I was sure the scent was never going to leave. No matter how much bleach was poured on the floor, scrubbed over the surfaces it would forever smell like stale piss and sweaty tennis shoes.

At least to me, Maybe it doesn’t to other people. Maybe to others, it’s still a place of joy, and happiness no matter the smell, but to me, it was the same mundane, piss scented house I’d almost kissed Harry in. I know people come here to find love at the bottom of a whiskey filled glass, hoping for a night of meaningless passionless, lust-driven sex. Maybe sometimes they find it, maybe they don’t, but for me, this was not the place I wanted to spend my evening.

The living room had been stripped of all its furniture, people stood on the empty floor and danced their way to the current pop hits. Couples smashed up against the wall hooking up with each other as shitty Christmas lights created a ‘mood’ I could only describe as a third class strip club you saw in those b-grade movies.

“Come on Y/N, at least pretend to have fun.” Henry pulled at my hand, “This could be your promise land, any of these boys could be yours for the night.” He motioned around us as guys in costumes looked girls up and down as if they were some sort of meat on display at a butcher. “Maybe more, if you’re lucky.” He winked at me.

“I feel naked. This is not a promised land, where I can meet new and interesting people, hold intelligent conversations with people. All it is a place for twenty-something-year-olds to come in the chance of getting a quick lay.” I bit back stomping my hell on the toes of some passerby who decided to grab my ass. “I’m going to get a drink,” I yelled over the loud obnoxious music. “I need to be wasted to be here.”

“I’ll come,” George called over the music, grabbing onto my elbow as he began to lead me away.

“As long as it ends up with me drinking alcohol that’s fine with me,” I called to him, watching as a girl shamelessly looked George up and down as we passed by her. “You looking for a girl tonight?”

“Are you offering?” He smirked over his shoulder.

“Not me, the mouse back by the stairwell would be interested though, if you’re looking for someone I’m sure of it.” He stopped looking behind me to where the girl dressed as a mouse was pouting.

“Not for me,”

“No?”

“No,” He grabbed onto my hand and gave it a quick squeeze. “I’m with you all night.”

“I’ve heard that before,” I muttered pushing past George and into the kitchen. I stopped midway through and examined the safest, less intrusive way to get to the counter where all the drinks were set up.

“You playing the games tonight?” George called into my ear, his breath hitting my lower neck as his hands fell onto my waist.

“What are the games?”

“Usual ones I think.” He tapped his hand against my hip and used his strength to drive me forward towards where two guys were handing out bottles of drink. “Cider?”

“Please.”

“MacKay.” The guy smiled and clapped their hands together. “How ya doing man?” I began to fiddle with my costume, pulling at some of the garlands of ivy. “You two want a drink?”

“Cider.” George nodded. “This is Y/N.” George pulled me forward, under his arm. “Y/N, this is Dylan, and Kane they’re in a class with Harry and me.” He pulled me in tighter, like a proud mother showing off their golden child. “Y/N and I are from the same town.”

“Nice to meet you both.” I smiled awkwardly reaching out to take one of the offered bottles from Kane.

“Nice costume Y/N, big fan of Ivy.” Kane smiled, his face hidden behind half of a Jason mask, “You might just have the best costume in the bag.”

“Oh no, I don’t want that.” I shook my head. “Like, at all.”

“Really?” He raised his mask off his face, pushing it up to his head. “Most girls are looking to win.”

“Not this one,” I grimaced. “Literally the last thing I want.”

“Y/N, there you are.” Dean walked by and grabbed my shoulder pulling me to him “Need to borrow her for a second.” He looked at George. “Roommate stuff.”

“What’s wrong?” I grabbed his hand pulling him to a stop. “You okay?”

“You gotta come with me.” He shook his head trying to walk again. I waved at George, Kane and Jason as I let Dean pull me away.

“Where are we going, Dean?”

“You gotta see this.” He shook his head, pulling me towards the stairs. “Knew I didn’t like her for a reason.”

“Like who?”

“Elle,” He shouted stopping us at the bottom. He pointed upwards towards where people climbed up and down. “See the couple making out? Halfway up the stairs.” I squinted, trying to find who he was talking about. “Costume look familiar?” My eyes caught it, Elle’s batgirl costume, wrapped around someone who definitely wasn’t batman… Someone who definitely wasn’t Harry.

“No fucking way,”

“What are you two staring at?”

“No one,” I shouted. “I mean, nothing.” I grabbed onto Harry and pulled him into me, his back to the stairwell.

“Y/N, what are you doing?”

“I just need a hug.” I held Harry’s head to my chest, watching as Elle continues to make out with the stranger. “How you doing?” I asked pulling him tighter.

“Mefh hefd if in four fits.”

“Huh?”

“Mefh hefd if in four fits.”

“What?”

“He said, My head, is in your tits,” Dean cleared his throat. “I’m pretty sure.”

“Oh.” I pushed him away, head moving out of my cleavage. “Sorry.” I dropped my arms and held them behind my back.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, you know parties, aren’t really my thing.”

“Right.” He nodded his head, biting his lips. “You seen Elle?”

“No, not me… Dean, have you seen them?”

“Them?”

“Not them, her,” I shouted, correcting.

“You okay?” He raised his eyebrow.

“Peachy… Dean.”

“No, haven’t… Sorry mate.”

“Why don’t we swipe a bottle of vodka and go have a smoke,” I suggested looking up the stairs anxiously.

“You don’t smoke…” George popped up over my shoulder shaking a bottle of vodka.

“No better time to start.” I smiled at George picking the vodka out of his hand. “Oh look at that, I’m double parked.” I brought the bottle of Cider to my lips downing the contents quickly.

“You sure you’re okay?” I nodded as Harry looked into my eyes. Don’t crack Y/N, do not crack.

“Roof?” George suggested taking the vodka back from me.

“Yeah, maybe we’ll see Elle on the way.” Harry piped up.

“Last I saw her, she was at the bar talking to one of the girls from her class, Laura I think.” Dean rattled on as I peaked up the staircase to see Elle’s disappearing figure bounce up the top step.

“Maybe I should look for her.”

“No come on, let’s have a drink together… C’mon Harry you’ve been ignoring me for ages, surely I deserve some quality roommate time.” I pouted pulling on his cape.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Just enjoying the party,” I grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the staircase if this were any other time I would have been caught up with how it feels holding onto Harry’s hand, but this was another time, and I was trying to stop him from being hurt. “Up we go.”

Sweat. Smoke. Alcohol. Body Odour.

That’s all that I could smell wherever I went, wherever I turned. Around me bodies moved pushing themselves up against any surface they could, grabbing onto other people as their bodies gyrated against another person. Even as we made our way up the stairs towards the roof. I could see the door it was so close.

“There she is.” Harry’s resistance pulled me to a sudden stop. “Elle,” He waved his arms above his head. “Roof.” He called to her pointing upwards. “Five minutes,” I watched as she nodded her head, smiling sweetly.

Smiling as if the bitch hadn’t just had her tongue down some other guys throat.

“What’s going on?” George whispered in my ear, hand resting on my hip.

“Elle and some guy,” I was cut off by Harry who drew back to me. “She coming?”

“Yeah,” He nodded his head, a ridiculous smile coming to his lips.

“Great,” I gifted my teeth grabbing the bottle of George, twisting the cap off. “Let’s go then.”

“Y/N, don’t drink all of it, you know what happens.” George chided as I pushed myself faster up the stairs, the bottle still to my lips as the liquid burnt my throat a little dribbled down my chin and down my chest.

“What happens?” Dean asked George as I stepped out onto the roof. I looked around to him as the three of them stepped out behind me. George smiled at me, heartwarming… No, Y/N that’s just the vodka talking.

“She tries to burn down settees.” George chuckled.

“Only floral ones who belong to mothers.” I corrected passing the bottle to Harry. “George, do you have any smokes?”

“Going all out tonight Y/N.” He raised an eyebrow, pulling his packet from the top pocket of his dress shirt, passing it to me.

“Call it self destruction,” I began to sway from side to side, feeling the vodka take over my body as my hips began to move to the loud Nelly song that played downstairs.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you dance Y/N.” Dean laughed as he drank from his beer bottle, taking the bottle of vodka Harry offered him as he lent against the side of the house.

“Dance with me?” I called out to him.

“Don’t dance.” He laughed shaking his head. “Unless I’m planning on sleeping with the girl.”

“No matter what I do, All I think about is you.” I began singing swaying my hips, playing with the ends of George’s jacket. “I haven’t heard this song in years.” I laughed at myself grabbing onto the jacket and pulling it off my shoulders. “Even when I’m with my boo all I think about is you.” I threw the jacket towards Dean and smiled over at Harry who’d taken the bottle back off Dean. “Sing it with me, Harry.”

“I’d rather enjoy the show.” He smiled looking me up and down as my hips continued to move.

“Spoilsport.” I pouted swaying my hips regardless. “George?”

“I don’t really dance, or sing.”

“I can teach you.” He beamed at me as he walked towards me before grabbing my hand pulling me to him.

“Didn’t know you liked Nelly?”

“I don’t usually.” I shrugged and started to sway side to side, “But I’m pretty much half-naked, so I may as well make more of a spectacle of myself than usual.“

“You look the best out of anyone here,” George whispered in my ear before grabbing my hands and started to pull them above my head and make me move more freely.

“Shake it, baby.” Dean catcalled to George and me.

“There you guy’s are.” George and I pulled apart looking over to Elle who burst out onto the roof, a guy, the guy she was making out with trailing behind her. “This is my friend Oliver.” Oliver was dressed as Al Capone, the complete opposite to sweet, sweet Harry.

“You right mate.” Harry reached out and shook his hand.

“Fucker,” I whispered, hands falling to George’s chest.

“What was that?” George chuckled.

“Huh,” I looked away from Oliver and up to George. “Oh, nothing. I’ll tell you later.”

“Or you could tell me now.” He whispered back.

“You two alright? Whispering like mothers over there.” Oliver laughed as he walked towards us he extended his hand out towards George. “Oliver,”

“George.” George grabbed his hand and shot up and down in quick succession before turning his head to me.

“I’m Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you Y/N.”

“I wish I could say the same.”

“Excuse me?” Olivers face shrivelled in confusion.

“Y/N.” George chastised me.

“I think what she meant was, it’s more than nice to meet you…” Dean pushed off the wall and walked over to us. “She’s always looking to make friends.” He wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Isn’t that right, Y/N.” I pushed my lips together, holding my tongue between my teeth before nodding.

“Lovely to meet you even.” I managed to mutter out after an awkward beat passed between us. “You know what, I heard the games are starting soon, and dancing.” I looked across to George. “Should we dance? We should dance.” I nodded my head. “Dean?”

“Yeah, we should dance.”

“Thought you said you didn’t dance,” Harry called out to Dean.

“Gotta find a girl somehow, mate.”

“They’re having a competition actually,” Oliver started. “You get a number, whoever gets the same number as you, is your partner, and whoever is best wins like 200 quid or something like that.”

“Great, shall we.” Dean looked over at Elle and Harry. “You two love birds coming?”

“You want too?”

“Yeah,” Elle smiled wrapping a hand around Harry’s waist.

“You three go down, just need to talk to these two for a minute.” George blocked Dean and I. “Won’t be a tick.”

“No worries, make it quick yeah? Don’t want to miss the games.” Called Oliver as he opened the door for Harry and Elle. As soon as it shut George spun to us.

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Don’t worry mate, just leave it.”

“Y/N?”

“Don’t tell him Y/N, it’ll only make it worse.”

“Make what worse?”

“Y/N.” Dean spurned. “We can tell him another time.” I nodded my head.

“Another time, George.”

“Are you serious?” George’s jaw was pretty much hanging open. “Y/N, you can trust me.”

“I know, I know, but trust me when I saw this is for the greater good.” I grabbed onto his hand. “I promise, tomorrow we will tell you everything.” George was quiet for a second, I could tell he was deliberating between continuing the argument or succumbing to finding out the next day.

“Fine.” He cleared his throat, throwing the burnt-out cigarette on the ground. “Let’s go find a drink, then play this game.”

“Or we could just chug the rest of the vodka between us and then go find them?” Dean suggested.

And that is exactly how we ended up squished into the living room while a slightly overweight Darth Vader read out the rules of the dance competition.

“The name of the game is ‘Sex on the dance floor’ with that name in mind you and your partner must be touching at all times, but you are not permitted to have sex. You and your partner stop touching, you’re out.” He stopped reading and pointed around the room. “Anyone dressed in a Clone costume.” A guy in a white suit waved. “Is a judge, you get tapped, you leave. Simple.”

“So he says,” Dean whispered in between mine and George’s head. “He’s clearly never tried to dirty dance with a stiff before.”

“A stiff what?” I hissed back, eyes keeping on Vader.

“Y/N.” Dean chuckled. “You’re too cute.”

“When you all walked in, you were given a slip of paper, open them up.” Dean, George and I opened our papers. “Find your partner, we start in five.”

“Number fourteen.” I read aloud. Peaking over to Deans. “Number thirty-two… How many people are in this completion.”

“A lot.” He looked at George’s. “Number fifteen.” So close.

“There you guy’s are.” I looked up from my paper to see Harry, Oliver and Elle pushing their way through the crowd.

“What numbers did you get?” Elle held the crisp white paper in front of her. “Oliver and I got number six.”

“Fourteen.”

“Fifteen.”

“Thirty-two.” George, Dean and I chorused. “Any match up?” He grabbed Harry’s. “Twenty-eight… Damn… Imagine if you have to grind and bump with a guy, who wasn’t me.”

“It’d break my heart,” Harry chuckled pulling Dean into a headlock.

“Sorry.” A guy pushed his torso into our group. “Did someone here say they had Fourteen?” I nodded my head. “My girlfriend is fourteen,”

“Oh. That’s cool.”

“Y/N, babe.” George laughed. “I think he wants to swap,”

“Oh, yeah. Shit of course.” I gave him the slip and took the one he held out in return. “Twenty-one.”

“How are we going to find these numbers?”

“NUMBER TWENTY-EIGHT.” Dean’s voiced boomed. “LOOKING FOR NUMBER TWENTY-EIGHT.”

And so it went, Dean played the matchmaker right until it was just George and I left.

“Still no one.”

“Sorry Y/N, at least you can be with George.” I saw a devilish smirk as he turned and dragged the blonde bombshell he was with away from us.

“What do you say?” George held out his hand as the music began. “Partner?”

“Sure, but first I need a drink, all the numbers ruined my buzz.” He shook his head, grabbing my hand and pulling me back to him.

“Shut up and dance.” George had my breath hitching with the way that he pressed against me. His hands came to a rest on my hips, fingertips ticking my lower back. I ran my hands over his chest, feeling his six-pack as they tensed under his tight shirt.

Turn around Y/N, don’t let him see what he’s doing to you.

I spun around, pressing my back to his front, smiling when his hands wrapped themselves tighter around me. With more alcohol than blood running through my veins, the things that came to mind were anything but G rated, even for a virgin.

“Didn’t know you could move like this Y/N,” George whispered in my ear. I ignored it and continued to swap my hips, George and I’s conjoined hand hanging over my shoulder.

“Neither did I.” It was true, I’d never danced like this before. The next song blurred into the last and we didn’t stop, George kept his arms wrapped firmly around my waist. My eyes closed as I leaned my head onto his shoulder. My free hand holding onto his forearm as we swayed together in time to the beat. George’s hands left my waist and ran up my ribs, pushing my hair off my neck, before running back down my ribs once more resting back on my hips. I felt his breath on my neck, heavy and warm. It made goosebumps rise in its wake, then when I felt his lips my legs shook a little.

“George, what are you doing?” I felt his tongue touching the skin on my neck. I pulled away turning to him. He chuckled, looking surprised.

“What?” My hands run up his chest again, touching his cheek. “Y/N,” He whispered, just loud enough to be heard over the music. He leaned in, my eyes closed automatically. I felt his hot breath on my lips and then felt his lips brush gently over mine.

“We can’t,” I whispered just as our lips were about to touch again. His forehead rested on mine. Eyes opening to meet mine. “I want to.”

“Then why not?”

“We’re friends, remember George.” His hand ran up to the back of my neck, holding onto it. “Let’s just be friends.”

“Friends kiss all the time, Y/N.” I spun around so my back was pressed to his front, “It’s just a kiss,”

“Is that all they are to you?” George spun me back around, his hands pulling my waist closer to him.

“What else should they be?” Don’t do this Y/N. It’s not worth it.

“You’re right,” I whispered, lips running along his jaw. “It’s just a kiss, nothing else.”

“Nothing else,” George nodded. “Just a kiss,” He leant his forehead against mine, “Cure my curiosity Y/N,”

I could do this, just a kiss. One perfect kiss with George…

Without thinking I lent forward and pressed my lips to his. They were soft, but hard from the pressure he used to countermine. I opened my lips to bite onto his bottom lip. George groaned and pulled my body closer, keeping us swaying to the music. One of his hands moved down and wrapped around my waist the other wound into my hair. I pulled away, my mind running on a high from him, from the kiss. George’s lips moved from my lips to my cheeks kissing everywhere they touched before they reached my neck, leaving a trail of kisses down my neck moving the trail of ivy vines from my costume aside, before coming back to my lips. If someone told me that one of the best first kisses I would ever have would be with George MacKay, a boy every girl in my home town wanted, I would have laughed in their face, but here I was on some dark, grimy dance floor, dressed in a costume I thought I’d never wear, with his hips pushing into mine, kissing him like it was my dying wish. My hands were pushing up George’s shirt, allowing me access to the skin underneath as I pulled his lips back to mine. He licked and nibbled on my bottom lip, begging for me to open my lips, when I didn’t he pulled away and kissed over to my ear.

“Ivy, Joker… You’re out.” Overweight Darth Vader screamed from the podium. George didn’t pull away, his hands pushing my hips towards the nearby wall, stepping us backwards until my back pushed into it, his lips going back to mine.

“Sorry we lost the contest,” I whispered, George, pulled away, his hands lingering on my chin,

“Fuck the contest.”

#george mackay #george mackay x reader #GeorgeMackay #George MacKay fanfic #George MacKay Imagine #Harry Styles #Harry Styles x Reader #HarryStyles #Harry Styles Imagine #Harry Styles Fanfic

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omegangrins · 5 years

Text

A Treatise On the Doctor

I don't know how to start this. Because I think of Peter Capaldi's words when he said that the only thing required to be a Doctor Who fan, is kindness.

I like 13 and think Chibnall is doing his best job writing the show.

So I struggle to write this because I am engaging against that very unkindness in the Doctor Who fandom, and trying very hard not to be angry back. "Allways try to be nice but never fail to be kind." But I've begun to wonder more and more if those who speak so loudly against the show really know what the show itself is about.

Enough of talking about other people though, cause frankly they're only important as set-up for this conversation. And again, I'm working kind.

So here's what you're gonna learn from this lifelong fan (and the best Tl;dr you're gonna get):

1. The Doctor sucks. From the very beginning. People complain about character traits now that have been around as long as the show.

2. Due to the Doctor's suckage, they tend to do more harm than good. (And because of this, most of the Doctor's "friends" along the way have been, well, let's leave it at the air quotes for now cause it's a damn big list of "BOOOO!!!".)

3. All of the showrunners and writers and actors and editors and everyone else has allways knows this and has played it this way.

4. And last but not least, since this is a time travel show. If you wanna know what and why stuff is happening now, look it up. Everything that happened before is allways in play.

5. None of this is bad, and in fact, it makes the show morally grayer. It's about kindness at all costs. Even your own.

A. First things first, the hard thing. The Doctor is not grrrreat. I mean, sure they try, but they fail a lot more often. In Extremis, a majority of those fatality index counts come from people the Doctor failed to save. That's why it's worded so specifically as "cause of death". All the death's caused by the Doctor's very interaction with time and lack of saving those around them. And part of it's not their fault, but more often than not, the Doctor says I can save you, and can't, won't, or chooses not to.

And that would be alright, but it took them over 1000 years to realize they should start letting their companions lead lives outside of theirs so THEY DON'T DIE. A bit too long as someone who claims to be better.

Not to mention how many times the Doctor is dismissive of their companions and the people around them only to use them for their help and just bug off again. If they truly cared and wanted to help, they would stay and listen in between adventures. Their lifespan is near infinite anyway. What's a few extra Earth hours with some friends you made along the way. You know, maybe fix some of the psychological and emotional damage created by encountering things behind a human's original scope of reasoning. But nope, we gotta go adventure more, byyyyeee!!

So when people talk about these qualities in 13 in a negative aspect I have to laugh because I'm not sure if they understand the joke. Cause we're talking about an alien that grew up around a species calling themselves Time Lords. I try not to blame them too much for it. 1 had to learn how to be hospitable to humans and it's been a bit of a slow learning curve ever since.

B. After the Doctor survived the horrors of the Time War and happened upon a human companion they felt worth connecting to, what did they do? They took Rose to watch her planet burn in front of her eyes. Great, first date, amirite?

And that's a little bit of companion damage. Do you know that the Doctor is responsible for the almost complete genocide of the Silurian race across multiple occasions. I am legitimately surprised there are any left after all of the ones the Doctor has killed. Like before, they cause destruction either purposefully or accidentally or simply by force of being there.

Remember before how I said that the Doctor just flies away. Yeah, they leave a lot of problems behind when they do (something that I can see Chibnall is planting the seeds of). If you had a time and space machine and practically unlimited capabilities and you choose to just leave after a situation and not check up on them from time to or see if there are any other underlying crises to be solved. But oh no, "gotta follow that rule of time and keep going even though I stopped in the first place because of how interested I was.". This is why 9 has a great arc about this. He thought he killed all the Daleks. They came back. He thought he'd gotten rid of the Slitheen. They came back. He thought he saved Satellite 5 from aliens. But opsies, they came back. And look! They're Daleks. Which he "finally" got rid of.

The Doctor just bounces around all carefree and without an ounce of care for themselves, their companions or consequences unless there's consequences for themselves or their companions. Then they get indignant.

Is that really kind of the person you want flying around fixing things in time and space? Who knows. But at least they are trying. Most of the time the T.A.R.D.I.S. lands somewhere and the authority figures are the most pretentious bull-headed pigs you can find. To me, I laugh cause it seems like both sides end up getting a taste of their own medicine. Usually with the bull charging to death in a sad glory while the Doctor wiles on metaphorically about not being as good as them.

But again, as a "superior" alien with "advanced" technology and "culture" you'd think they'd just know better already. But that's all part of the character. The Doctor may be in flux, but true change is difficult. The real hero of every story is the other people BESIDES the Doctor.

Cause the title is Doctor *Who* . The Who being half of the title, despite having less letters. It's the constant question of "What and why and who is that crazy person that's trying to help?" Why do you think they keep flying back to Earth? (Besides set construction reasons.) They've grown as attached to us as we have to them. And at this point, a lot of their saving us is guilt and embarrassment at having a hand in our timeline.

This is also the same reason the Doctor dumps companions in a fluff. Baggage. Every time a companion gets too heavy to carry the memories of... off they fly.

Except for 13. She's stayed. To this end, we can see how the Doctor changes. Not on our smaller, human timelines, but on the timeline of a god with way too much power.

D. With that in mind, we go Classic. It's the Who you need to consult if you wish to make any critique on what's happening now. Because how can you know how a part operates inside of a whole without seeing the whole part?

Cause I don't know if you've watched it but it can be rough, and I don't mean in the sense of production value (which admittedly they do a fairly decent job of using what money they had. A problem the BBC plagues to Doctor Who to this day.). The 3rd Doctor shits on every one they call friends constantly and then turns around expecting help. 4 did the same. Then 5 masked that contempt with a plucky face and a cheeky word. But it was still there, bubbling out of 6 and 7 as the inability to suffer fools gladly and using their own righteousness to enact change in their companions. A trait that kept going til an entire war and regeneration was used solving the question of "Doctor Who?" Only for them to try and forget twice more by putting on their pretty grinning faces and running away from it.

And I'm only talking from a companion perspective. Each of the Doctors has enacted their own form of genocide on countless species. Sure, it's to "save humans" but at the end of the day you'd have to ask yourself if we're really worth that blood. And this is all in the Doctor's history. As much as they claim better, they're hands are still gushing red.

The Doctor left Jo because she fell in love. They drove Adric to put their life on the line in order to feel adequate. The entirety of the Silurian race has been wiped out fivefold under their watch, with one time by their hand itself. Same for several other singular and unique species you won't be able to find elsewhere in the universe. 7 used time travel to enact a personality change in Ace while simultaneously using her as a pawn in an interdimensional war. The Time War itself. Sure it got erased but the Doctor still did those things ("War" Doctor or whatever nonsense titles they feel necessary to delude themselves). The entirety of Amy's childhood was destroyed by their presence, and Rory got erased. Twice! Sarah Kingdom. We know the list. Hell, the Doctor whisked Barbara and Ian away because they wanted to teach the snobby humans some lessons.

They may have a time machine, but we have the bill of their actions. This is where 13 excels. Because they're trying to be better than themselves. They've learnt the lessons of all those years traveling and the failures they wish they could reverse but don't as a way of keeping a scoreboard of pain. It's not perfect by any means, but look at 12 needing cue cards to understand and react to human grief under duress. They've come a helluva long way. After 50 years, I'm inclined to believe better. After all, it's what the Doctor would want.

E. You know how people like the ASOIAF series because it offers up morally complex characters existing in a morally complex world where black and white are harder to define than grey? Have you ever thought of Doctor Who as the same? Strip past the fairytale and adventure and "wibbly wobbly timey wimeyness and it's just people reacting to situations. We're just harder on the Doctor because they're hard on us. You could go round and round on who's the bigger killer, but at the end of the day Time Lords and humans fight and feel about the same things. It's allways been a joke to pretend otherwise.

That's why I love the Timeless Child. Not for making the Doctor anymore special but for saying that even despite having all of their specialness ripped away and repurposed to create a lie of a society then having the memory wiped of said event, the Doctor broke out of their mold, stole a TARDIS and told the Time Lords to fuck off. That's not a Captain America/Superman hero. That's Batman in space with a society of Lex Luthor's. Gotham and Gallifrey. The Doctor saw what they were a part of and broke free, without even knowing the more horrifying truth. Cause it's the thing I see many fans missing because they're so preocuppied with the Doctor being special. The thing that made the Doctor different was their ability to know the difference and walk away to find better. Now, the Doctor has a reason to go back and find out why they never stopped running.

The Time Lords might be the greatest monsters in the universe. It is in the name. "Lords". Those who would lord over us and impose their will with a banthium fist.

And this is a children's show.

C the thing is, the people who made and make this show all collectively rail against one thing: Hate. Kindness is the way of Doctor's. Even if they're sawing off your leg, it's to do the kindness of saving your life. This is because the people who make this (United Kingdomers) have seen centuries of war and conflict and oppression enacted by their own country in the name of progress. And they want to see it no more. Look no further than any of the Doctor's adventures with UNIT. Allways advocating for peace and being ignored for the comfortable war-cry. It's why it's hard to blame the Doctor when we do very similar and often worse (though we don't have time travel.... yet). The creators of this show know better, see better, and wrote better, to know that the powers that be nipped would nip their creations and sanitize them. So they wrote their messages so strong that you can feel them from the future. They're powerfull enough that even across eras they have all collectively moved me to write this.

That's another point I have to laugh at people saying Doctor Who has never been in your face about progressive politics. The Green Death. Survival. Trial of a Timelord (Yes, all of it. Sit down and power through.) The Happiness Patrol is one of my all time favorite episodes for going there in this regard. People may poo poo but history has its' eyes on you. Doctor Who loves taking potshots at the issues of the day. As long as you don't make the aliens black of course. Make them all the colors of the rainbow but never make them black. That'd be too on the nose (That's something they used to say back in the day! Crazy how far we've come).

So bravoa to Chibnall for continuing the legacy of Doctor Who. From where I'm standing, he's not doing anything different than any other showrunner before him. Cause if you want to argue canon, you at least have to know what created it. This show owes what it is to those Classic eras. And if you think Chibnall is shitting on those years and your childhood.... well, then why did you read this whole thing?

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princessjaqulinechess1031 · 5 years

Text

Family Reunion

Characters: Varian, Juliet (OC), Hector

Description: Varian Wry is not pleased when one snarky vegetarian (his wife) meets the other snark vegetarian (his uncle) in his life.

Notes: Is this in anyway possible in canon, for Hector and Varian to have this relationship? Probably not. Enjoy anyway. Also, Varian and Juliet would both be 24/15-ish at this point. This photo below also has like nothing to do with the story but I really like The Look it has.

Varian Wry hadn’t seen one Hector del Bosque in thirteen years, yet, somehow Varian wasn’t surprised when he came home to see Hector sitting at his kitchen table, sipping tea. Hector had seemingly decided to forego the aging process, as he looked exactly the same as he did when Varian was twelve; scrawny with thick dark hair and crazed yellow-green eyes.

If Varian hadn’t of known who Vector was, he would have been frightened by his sudden appearance in his kitchen. But Varian did know Hector. And while Varian knew Hector was formidable in battle, Varian has also seen Hector cry over a bunny because it was too cute.

“You’re lucky Juliet didn’t get here first,” Varian said, not bothering with a greeting. He also didn’t bother to mention who Juliet was, despite the two never meeting. Hector has his ways of knowing things.

Hector took a sip of his tea and shifted in his wooden chair.

“I am still miffed I did not receive a wedding invitation,” Hector said conversely, as if they were in the middle of their last conversation and thirteen years had not passed. “After all I have done for you.”

Varian ignored that the amount of things Hector had done for him amounted to zero and took a seat across from him.

“It’s hard to send an invitation to ‘My Kinda-Sorta-Uncle That Lives With Two Bearcats and A Rhino In A Haunted Tree’. Not sure how to address it.”

Hector narrowed his eyes. “Quirin would have found a way.”

“Well, I’m Varian, and it was my wedding, so I could invite whoever I damn well please.”

Hector snickered but did not smile because he did not smile.

“Where’s your lovely bride anyway?” Hector asked. “I can’t wait to meet the girl who managed to make you look up for five seconds.”

Varian sighed. “She said something about helping a cow give birth this morning before running out. That was about....say, five or six hours ago. She’ll be back shortly.” Varian leaned forward, scrunching his brow together. He wasn’t sure if he should ask if Hector wanted something, because it was completely in character for Hector to show up randomly but also with a motive.

“Relax your worried face,” Hector said. “You’ll get wrinkles. End up looking like your aunt Adira.” Varian just rubbed at his temple. This was going to be a long visit, he could tell. “I’m just stopping by. I was in the area, thought I’d stop and see you’re new Mrs. Wry.”

New? Him and Juliet were twenty-five, they’ve been married for three years. The marriage wasn’t old, but it wasn’t new either.

Hector flicked one of his own braids and stood, leaving his teacup behind on the table.

“Where’s the Mini Ones of You?”

Varian felt a deep part of him groan.

“You mean children, Uncle Hector?” Varian said. “Me and Juliet don’t have any yet.”

Hector hummed thoughtfully and then turned back around to Varian.

“Is it true she’s some kind of an animal whisperer?” Hector said. Varian nodded slowly. Juliet’s abilities were no secret and Hector had been quite a spymaster back in the days before Varian lived. Hector would know even if they hid it.

“And before you ask, no, we don’t know how she does it.”

If this affected Hector, he didn’t show it.

“Interesting,” Hector said, “I can’t wait to meet her.” If Varian didn’t know better, he would say Hector looked almost excited.

Varian heard the front door slam open and shut, and Varian quickly stood.

“Well, here’s your chance.”

“Varian?” she called out.

“In the kitchen!”

“Okay!” He heard her feet start to shuffle towards the kitchen as she kept yelling. “Sorry it took so long! Manny was grateful for all the help and tried to get me to take some meat from a pig he just killed, and I know you like ham, but taking meat after delivering a cow just seemed wrong. So I picked some apples, I thought we could make pie instead, since I know you like that.”

Hector turned to Varian, raising a brow.

“Pie?” Hector asked. Varian sighed.

“She really likes pie,�� he said. Ever since she discovered it at eighteen, she had been crazy about it. And she was pretty good at making it, actually. Her apple pie, especially, was great. Varian was always excited when she said she was going to make one, and the news she planned to actually made the day seem a little brighter.

“Then you won’t believe who I ran into!” Juliet said, pulling into the kitchen with a basket full of shiny green apples. “Cosette’s grandbunnies! They’re so cute, they look just like her—“

Juliet stopped suddenly, eyes finding Hector. Her eyes were wide, mouth open in surprise and confusion, feelings she didn’t bother to hide. Not that he could blame her. Hector was quite a character.

The closest thing that Hector could make to a smile crossed his face.

“You must be Juliet, Varian’s wife,” Hector said. “I’m Hector, his uncle. I’m sure Varian must have told you about me.”

Juliet twirled to face Varian head on.

“Uncle?” Juliet said. “But I thought you said your dad was an only child.”

Varian bit his lip. “Long story.”

Hector’s brow raised subtly and he crossed his arms.

“You didn’t tell her about me?” Hector asked. “Some kind of nephew you are.”

Varian could feel a headache building, and he wished he didn’t keep the medicine in the basement lab. Then he could take some and not be tempted to disappear and leave Juliet alone with Hector. It had only been five minutes, and he was already so tempted to do so.

“It just never came up,” Varian said. “We’ve got lives of our own.”

“Apparently so,” Hector said thoughtfully. He picked up there salt-shaker, like he was inspecting it and then put it back down with a simple nod. Varian didn’t ask.

“Adira sends a message,” Hector said. Varian gave a small smile. He rather liked Adira, at least she acted more reasonable than the man before him. “She says to please give Quirin grandkids so he’ll stop talking about wanting them in his letters.”

Varian felt his insides die and his cheeks burn red. Of course that would be what Adira sends to say. He took back what he thought about liking her. Juliet just smiled and put down her basket on the counter.

“Tell Adira is that it’s not for a lack of trying Quirin doesn’t have them yet.” If Varian could die twice, he did it, because Juliet really just said that. Of all things.

“Jules!”

“What?” Juliet asked. “We’re trying to have a baby. There’s nothing shameful about it. In the animal kingdom, it’s pretty much a known and accepted truth amongst mates that the two are trying for mates.”

Hector nodded. “She’s right.”

Juliet smiled brightly. “I like him.”

And then Varian died a third time.

Because of course Juliet liked Hector. Of course she did.

“Hector do you like pie?” Juliet asked. Hector shook his head.

“No. It’s disgusting,” Hector said. Juliet’s smile didn’t waver.

“Too bad,” Juliet said. “Because if you stay for dinner, I’m making pie for dessert so eat it or weep.”

Hector smiled — not smirked or snickered — he smiled.

“I like her.”

^^^

“Out of Hector and Adira, you had to like Hector?” Varian asked, cutting carrots at the kitchen table. Juliet smiled sweetly at him from where she was mixing the stew in a pot.

“‘Rian, last time I saw Adira was when we were fifteen, and she threatened me with a sword,” Juliet said.

“Yeah, she does that,” Varian said. Threats were how Adira showed affection Varian sometimes thought.

“Naturally I’m going to like the one who doesn’t do that more.”

Varian finished with the carrots and brought them over to Juliet.

“But he’s just so...weird,” Varian said. Juliet chuckled softly and threw the carrots in the soup.

“Honey, isn’t that pot calling the kettle black?” Juliet said. Varian titled his head in confusion.

“Since when have you started using common phrases?” Varian asked. Juliet rolled her eyes and kept stirring.

“Since I realized the potential it has for sarcasm,” Juliet said. She motioned towards the table, where an onion sat, ready to be peeled for the soup. “Now, can you please peel the onion? It’s the last thing we need for the soup.”

“Why are we making soup anyway?” Varian asked. “Neither of us particularly like it.”

“Because we have guests,” Juliet said. “We have to make sure they’re well-fed.” Oh, right. In addition to Hector, Juliet had suggested inviting Quirin over for some kind of makeshift family reunion. Which meant soup, because it was the only thing besides pie and sandwiches that either knew how to make worth anything.

“Besides, I’ve been craving some carrot soup,” Juliet said. Varian picked up the onion but turned back to her.

“You hate carrot soup,” Varian said. “We only make it for guests. Why would you be craving that?” Juliet seemed surprised too at the revelation but then but her lip nervously. She twirled the spoon around and didn’t answer. Varian decided to let her suspicious behavior go.

“Where’s Ruddiger?” Varian asked instead. Juliet shrugged.

“Disappeared into the forest after we picked apples,” Juliet said. “Said something about telling the others the apples were in season.”

Onion now peeled, he brought it too her.

“Ruddiger?” Varian said. “Focus on apples, who would have guessed?”

Juliet clicked her tongue in annoyance and took the onion from him.

“I hope your uncle doesn’t mind vegetarian food, love,” Juliet said. Varian smiled and hugged her shoulders from behind.

“No, he too has embraced your joyless way of life,” Varian said. Juliet turned back to give him an seething look and Varian chuckled, kissing her cheek once. “I’m kidding Jules, you know I don’t care about you being a vegetarian. But Hector is one too, for real. He won’t care.”

Juliet hummed to herself and hugged one arm around her stomach. Juliet seemed like she was going to say something else when Hector appeared in the doorway of the kitchen again, Dad by his side.

Dad smiled at them, wearily but kind all the same. Time hadn’t been the kindest to Dad — his hair was more gray than brown, and his wrinkles were beginning to be too numerous to ignore. And next to the seemingly ageless Hector, it was easier to see. Yet, somehow, it hadn’t diminished the respect he could receive just by his arrival. Dad carried himself strong and sturdy, just like always, like a grand, old lion. Time hadn’t been kind, but Dad seemed ready to fight it’s unjust affects.

“Hello son, Juliet,” Dad said. Varian grinned and let go of his wife, walking to greet them.

“I see you’ve caught up with Uncle Hector,” Varian said. Hector beamed wickedly and walked over to the chair he had occupied earlier.

“Yes, Hector, you can take a seat,” Juliet said, crossing her arms. Hector seemed one step removed form surprised, and raised a brow. “Varian, can you please help Hector set the table while I finish the soup?”

Varian helped pull Hector from his chair and led him to where they kept bowls. Hector seemed more than a little confused.

“Why doesn’t Quirin have to help?” Hector asked like a five year old.

“Because he’s my father,” Varian said simply.

“And he didn’t just take a seat, Mister Rude,” Juliet said. Dad laughed and moved deeper into the kitchen.

“I can help set the table, it’s not a problem,” Dad said. Varian dug through a cabinet for spoons as Hector set out the bowls with a scowl.

“Quirin,” Juliet said, “you’re fine. Just take a seat. Consider it a reward for not barging into our house when we’re not here.”

“Oh, Varian told you about that,” Hector said dully. Varian put down the spoons and turned to Hector with a raised brow.

“Did you think I wouldn’t tell her?” Varian asked.

“If you were a good nephew, no, you wouldn’t have told her.”

#tangled #tangled the series #tts #disney #rapunzel's tangled adventure #tts varian #varian #hector #tts hector #oc #tangled oc #juliet oc #varian x oc #fanfic #disney fanfic

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venactricisfics · 6 years

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Connection

Negan X OC, Smut, Oral, Negan-like language.

Prior Parts: Unexpected What’s Life without a Little Risk Unbelievable

@negans-network @neganmorgan @mypapawinchester@jeffreynegan @ask-kakashihatake

“When you go out there keep your mouth shut and just go along,” Laura says going through the rules of pick ups. “There’s fucked up shit that happens on the road. If it needs to happen just let it. Negan’s calling the shots. His word is the rule. Arat’s his number two today.”

“Do what he tells me no question, got it. Why aren’t you joining the pick up crew today?” I holster my gun and glance up at her hoping I wasn’t fucking everything up by tagging along.

“Simon has us setting up the outpost again. Hoping I get to be the head bitch in charge out there for once,” she laughs.

“Good luck with that,” I pull my hair back in a ponytail, “Anything I should keep an eye out for you?”

“I’m good. I gotta list of shit Carson is looking for. Just remember those assholes are the ones that killed Paula, Michelle, Donnie and Primo. They will try to convince you to help them. You look sweet so they’ll try. Just be careful,” she gives my shoulder a squeeze. “Alright?”

“I will, and you too. But you know Simon better than me,” I give her a grin.

“You know as well as I do how that itch needs to be scratched. You better get a move on.”

“I know, I don’t want to get left behind,” I head down the hallway and out the factory doors.

“Well hello to you,” I try to hide my smile at the sing songy voice of Negan’s as I step out. “Can’t get enough of me huh, sweetheart?”

“That and I’m coming along,” I glance up at him.

“Well, that tickles the shit outta me. I always wanted a little road head when I go to these things,” he smirks.

“You’re making me regret ever sucking your dick,” I respond.

“Guys are all ready to go, boss,” Arat says from behind me. My face turns a bright shade of red. I didn’t want anyone really to know that Negan and I were. Did. Hell, I don’t know what we are but I wasn’t ready for the entire Sanctuary to know.

“Don’t be silly,” he drapes his arm around my shoulders leading me in the direction of the truck, “we both know how much you loved sucking my dick.” He looks out over the group after sliding the truck door open for me, “Let’s head the fuck out.”

His words did little to change the color of my face back to its natural state but I was glad to find a seat in the back, behind the drivers, so I could regain a small piece of my dignity. “How is anyone gonna respect me if you keep telling them how good I suck dick?”

“That is a damn fucking fantastic skill, I couldn’t do it,” he chuckles, “I respect the shit out of you.” I grip the back of Arat’s seat as the truck lunges forward. “Do you respect her, Arat?”

She glances at me in her rearview. Ninety percent of my interactions with her were strictly business. She is fierce. And fiercely loyal to Negan.

“I’ll let you know after today,” she offers me a slight smile, “I don’t have a use for her dick sucking skills.”

“Thanks,” I lean back in my seat as the road becomes steadier, quieter. Giving me a chance to think. Or almost before Negan’s voice chimes in again.

“You should be in the lounge letting me take fucking care of you and not out here doing the fucking hot as hell work. I only do it cause I know the bullshit brigade feels more confident when I am at the fucking helm.”

I narrow my eyes at him curiously, “You asking me to be one of your wives? Cause if you are there’s no fucking way.”

“Well, actually I the fuck I was. Why wouldn’t you want to be in the lap of luxury letting your loving husband,” he gestures to himself, “take care of your every need?”

“Look, I like fucking you,” it didn’t matter at this point, Arat already knew, I wasn’t sure who knew or what but the cork couldn’t be put back in the bottle. “I want to keep liking fucking you. I don’t want it to become my job.”

“Fair enough,” his grin widens, “You wanna come on collections and fuck some people up, I will be fucking ecstatic to have you there. If you wanna stay in your bed watching Lifetime movies, you can. I will not have you working for points anymore.” His final words firm, unyielding.

“I….” I stop my words short realizing I’d won at least the battle, if not the war. He’d given me freedom from being his wife but also leaving the door open for possibility. “Thank you.”

“Any fucking day I get to catch a glimpse of that fine ass of yours,” he glances back at me, a wide grin on his face, “is a good goddamn day.”

“I hate to interrupt your date,” Arat peers in the mirror again, “you get the list of meds Carlson needs?”

“I got it, he doesn’t seem to need a lot,” I pull the list from my back pocket.

“That’s your job for today, make sure Carlson’s list is taken care of,” she replies, “continue with your whatever the hell you two were doing.”

“Thanks, better than standing around and looking pretty,” I give Negan a wink, “How much further?”

“I look hot as fuck carrying Lucille on my shoulder,” he replies, “It’ll be another hour.”

“You look hot all the time, who are we fucking kidding,” I replied leaning my head against the window, “I’m gonna try to sleep until we get there to scare the shit out of some townies. And you can be the big bad wolf and blow all the shit down.” He chuckles, “I’ll give that shit some thought,” he reaches back giving my leg a squeeze, “rest need you on your A game. Unless you want to help me rub one out.”

“You have two hands,” I yawn closing my eyes.

__________________________________________

I’m jarred awake when the truck comes to a stop. “Well good morning, sunshine,” he grins back at me. “We /are/ here.” I sit up rubbing my eyes as the sign comes into to view, ‘Alexandria’.

“Nice place,” I look at the sign as he hops from the truck, “I always wanted to live in a gated community.” I take his hand letting him help me down.

“I better go ring the fucking bell,” he gives me one of his killer grins then saunters over to bang on the gate with Lucille.

“Little pig, little pig let me /in/,” he sings. I shake my head and smile, moving up to stand near Arat, watching as the gate is opened. I couldn’t hear what the smug man on the other side of the gate said, “You /better/ be joking,” he responded, “Negan, Lucille, I know we made one hell of a first impression.”

“Who’s that?” I whisper to Arat when another man walk up behind the first. His sad blue eyes cast down in fear.

“That’s Rick,” she responded. “The prick responsible for this shit show.” I nod watching as Negan postures for the man. Swinging his bat into the skull of a dead asshole that was stumbling toward the open gate.

“Alright everybody, let’s get started, it’s a big day. You see that what I did, that was some /service/,” Negan says to Rick. I furrow my brow as he hands the other man Lucille and walks into the community. I draw in a breath watching the terror and confusion on the townies’ faces. “Let’s get this over with,” I mutter.

“Arat!” Negan barks. And she follows with an order to move. The tension so thick between us and them it could be cut with a knife. Negan watches as I walk by leaning in to speak to Rick loudly, “Damn I have /not/ decided if I like watching her coming or going best.”

“I can still hear you,” I call back to him over my shoulder.

“That is because I was using my outside voice,” he grunted turning his attention back to Rick. I can’t help but smile to myself as I walk out of earshot.

“Is this the infirmary?” I ask one of the citizens. She nodded rolling her eyes at me before walking away. I walk up the steps and feel a hand grab my ass. Davey. Creepy fucking Davey. He always looked at me like he wanted to eat me. My eyes sharp as I turn back to him, “You touch me again and I will break your goddamn hand.”

“Bitch, you think because you’re fuckin’ the boss that makes you shit?”

“Actually,” I narrow my eyes at him, “I know it does. Now keep your fucking hands to yourself if you want to keep them attached to your body.”

“Whatever,” he pushes past me and opens the door to the house.

“Dr. Carlson needs more gloves, antibiotics, pain meds if they got any. Amber’s mom needs anti inflammatories,” I feel wierd looking for shit for Negan’s wives. But I push that to the pit of my stomach. I couldn’t let myself get jealous over them. Hell, he’d just given me the freedom to do whatever I wanted. I’m sure there’s some kind of catch. There’s always a catch.

“Put them back!” I walk out from the supply closet seeing a kid with a patch over his eye pointing a gun at Davey.

“Hey, kid,” I move in front of him, in hindsight, it was probably a stupid thing, “put the gun down.” The kid points the gun over our heads and fires a shot, “You said half our stuff. That’s more than half.”

“I know the deal. And I sure as shit wanted to shoot that asshole at least twice this week, but if you shoot him, shit is gonna get so much worse before it gets better, put the gun down, I don’t want to have to carry this shit out by myself,” I lock my gaze with the kid’s. Raising them only when the door swings open behind him and the guy, Rick, walks through the door, followed by Negan.

“Carl, put it down,” Rick urges.

“They’re taking all our medicine, he said only half,” Carl responds raising his gun up higher.

“Really kid?” Negan swaggers in stopping beside me. Still smiling as he looks from the kid to me then back.

“You should go,” Carl says, “before you find out how dangerous we all are.”

“Pardon me young man. Excuse the fuck out of my goddamn French, but did you just threaten me?” he asks, “Look I get threatening Davey. But I can’t have it. Not him, not me. And sure as shit not her.”

“Carl, just put it…” Rick starts to say.

“Don’t be rude Rick, we are having a conversation here,” he cuts his eyes back to the boy, “Where was I, oh yes your giant man sized balls. No threatening us. I like you. And I don’t want to go hard proving a point. You don’t want that. I said half your shit and /half/ is what /I/ say it is.”

I watch them trying to keep myself from trembling. I knew in my gut Negan wouldn’t hurt the kid. But I couldn’t get a read on the kid or Rick. I wasn’t sure how far off the rails they actually were. This seemingly terrified people broke into the satellite station and killed twenty people in their sleep. They were the enemy. Not us.

“Do you want me to prove how serious I am /again/?” Negan continues with the boy. He sighs and hands the gun over to his father. Negan grabs it from him, “You have an absolute ass-load of guns and this little emotional outburst has made crystal clear. I can’t allow that. They’re all mine now. So tell me, where are my guns?”

I let out a breath when Rick leads them from the house. “Pack this shit up, I’ll be back.” I take the steps after them two at a time. I slow my footsteps when I catch up with them.

“You alright, baby?” Negan asks.

“I just needed some air. Too much of that manly bullshit in there,” I shoot him a wink, “I want to take a look at the guns.”

“You got it. You can help Arat with the inventory,” he grins, “I’ll give you first grab at one for yourself.” I can’t help but smile. The garage door rolls open in front of us. I lock my gaze with that of another terrified woman.

“I was expecting you,” she said her voice as shaky as she was.

“Olivia, show them the guns,” Rick stated.

“The armory’s inside,” she starts back down the hall.

“You take care of all of this?” I ask, looking at the shelves then back to her.

“I keep track of it all. The rations, the guns,” she replied.

“Don’t let me stop you,” Negan said, “Take her and the boys and show ‘em the goods.” I follow Olivia and Arat down the hallway to the next room. It was packed almost floor to ceiling with every conceivable firearm. Olivia hands me the register, “I keep a log there.” Her hand shaky as she shows me the list of what weapons were gone out with people on runs.

“We’re not here to hurt you,” I hop up on the desk, “we’re here to keep your people from hurting us again.” I push the inventory list to Arat. “There is a fuck ton of weapons on that list everything looks organized.” Arat checks off each weapon as the men load them and carry them out.

“How can you be with a man like /that/?” Olivia whimpers motioning her head in the direction of the garage.

“I could ask you the same question,” I hop down and walk outside. I bite my lip grabbing a desert eagle from a stack of guns that was being carried out by Daryl. “This is the one I want.”

Negan laughs, taking the gun from me, “This gun is as big as you are.”

“Are you saying I can’t handle something this,” I give him a smirk, “big?”

“Oh baby, I know how well you can handle big things,” he places the gun back in my hand, standing behind me, “How well have you been taking care of my guns?” his eyes turn to Rick then motions for me to fire. I point at the window and squeeze the trigger, knocking the shutter off its hinges.

“Feels good,” I hand him back the eagle, “Sounds good.”

“Baby, you trying to get me all hard and shit while I’m trying to have a discussion with my boy, Rick?”

“I wasn’t exactly trying,” I smirk pulling my .22 from its holster and replacing it with the more impressive weapon.

“Please don’t…” I turn my eyes hearing Olivia whimper as Arat shoves her up the steps.

“We don’t do that, unless /they/ do something to deserve it,” Negan states.

“Yeah,” she replies, “I went through their inventory and they’re short a Glock 9 and a .22 Bobcat.”

“Is that true?” Negan looks at Olivia who nods her head.

“The inventory is correct,” she replied.

“That’s good but also not good,” he states, “You’re two handguns short. I don’t enjoy killing women. Men, I can kill all the livelong. But Olivia, my dear, at the end of the day this was your responsibility.” My mouth opens to protest but then closes again, remembering who is actually in charge here. I couldn’t make him look weak. Not in front of these people.

“We can work this out,” Rick pleads.

“Yes, we can,” I respond, trying to hide the frustration in my voice.

“And I’m /going/ to right now,” Negan catches Olivia’s arm, “Guns were your responsibility and you screwed up.” He cuts his gaze back to Rick, “Find them /now/.” I watch Rick rush off to their church to meet with his people.

“What are you gonna do?” I ask softly, as we sit down on the patio chairs.

“I’m a man of my word, sweetheart,” he responds, “If the guns aren’t here Olivia is gonna pay the price.” I close my eyes nodding, “Alright.” I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Olivia, why don’t we mix up some lemonade? Get your mind off of it. If your friends are smart they’ll give up the guns.”

I tremble stirring the mix into the water looking out the window as the water turns from clear to yellow. Davey again harassing a girl. She couldn’t be more than sixteen. I look down feeling my stomach churn, my eyes watering when I carry the pitcher back outside.

Negan looks at me his normal grin fades slightly when he sees my face. “I’m fine.” I mouth, hoping there is some truth to the words. The people became more than just the enemy when they were scared shitless. The people here, most of them don’t look like they could survive five minutes outside of these walls. But they killed our people, I reminded myself.

“What you got for me Rick?” Negan’s voice interrupts my thoughts. Rick hands him a bag with the missing handguns in it. “Funny how a little ‘Holy shit! Somebody’s gonna die!’ really lights a fire under everybody’s ass.”

“Which one of your people almost killed Olivia?” I asked.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” he answered meekly.

“It’s a hell of a place you got here, Rick,” Negan says as we finish loading up. “You sir, are special. We’re coming back soon. And when we do you need to have something interesting for us. No more magic guns.” Negan cuts his eyes to me with a smirk, “Let’s get home. I wanna fuck my girl before and after dinner.” I shake my head with a smile, climbing up into the truck. I watch from the seat as he smacks a walker in the head with a candlestick. He grabs Lucille from Rick and climbs up in the truck after me.

“Jee-sus, that was one hell of a fucking tense ass shit trip,” his lips turn into a devilish smile, “Hurry home, I am hard as hell unless she’s changed her mind about that road head. It’s gonna be awhile before she blows me.”

“I haven’t changed my mind. You can wait an hour,” I move from his seat to mine in the back as the truck moves down the road, I give him a smirk, “I hope I can.”

_____________________________________________

“We’re home,” I’m not sure how long I’ve enjoyed hearing his sing songy voice.

“Good, I’m horny and hungry,” I smirk as I hop down from the truck, avoiding locking eyes with his. “I haven’t decided which itch I want to scratch first.” I open the Sanctuary doors and walk inside. I could feel his gaze follow after me before his footsteps. He catches my shoulder spinning me around pushes me against the wall, “You don’t get to say shit like that and walk away.”

“I don’t?” I rest my hands on his sides, “I was just stating a fact.” My eyes dark as I look up at him, “I was hoping you’d be the one to solve all my problems.”

“You know I will,” he smirks lifting my chin, his lips press fully against mine. I open my mouth, my tongue dancing with his. I could feel the kiss deep in my core.

“Are you gonna fuck me against the wall in front of everyone?” I break the kiss, glancing around as half the factory was looking at us, “Or take me back to your room?”

“Day-um, girl, you almost made me forget where I was,” he scoops me up throwing me over his shoulder, “The rest of you shits back to whatever the fuck you were doing.” I giggle as he carries me down the hall. He pushes open his apartment door and kicks it closed behind him, wasting no time before dropping me on the bed.

I raise up to on my elbows watching him, “I wouldn’t have objected to being fucked against the wall.” I glide my tongue over my lips, “The secret is already out.”

“I give two shits if they know,” he lowers the zipper of his jacket dropping it on the arm of the leather couch, “especially if it makes you mine.”

I toe off my boots and pop the button of my jeans, “I can’t be your wife, Negan. Not like them. I don’t /need/ you to take care of me.” I lift my hips and push my jeans down as he tugs his shirt over his head.

“Fuck, this shit isn’t supposed to be fucking complicated,” he groans moving to the bed.

“It’s less complicated when you are inside me,” I sit up fully on the bed, my hand rests on his bearded cheek and I pull his face to mine. My leg hooks around his hip and I pull him flush against me. His cock hard grinding against my damp panties through his jeans. I smirk against his lips as I tug his belt open, dipping my hand inside his pants, stroking him long and slow.

“You are a fucking tease baby,” he groans against my lips. “Since I laid eyes on you this morning you’ve been teasing me.”

“I didn’t mean to,” I shift so that we’re laying beside each other on the bed, my hand still stroking his member. “I missed you though,” I suck softly on his lower lip, then trail kisses over his jawline and down his neck. Moaning at the taste of his salty flesh. I push him to his back, smiling as he relinquishes control. My lips nibble and their way along his chest and over his stomach. His cock twitches in his pants as I press a soft kiss through them.

“Goddamn,” he utters, “I fucking missed the fuck outta you too.” He kicks his boots off and pushes his pants down, chuckling as his now free cock almost hits me in the face, “he needs your attention, baby.”

“Does he now?” I swirl my tongue around the head. “I guess I’ll have to give it to him.” I groan wrapping my lips around his head. Suckling soft, slow, savoring the taste of him. Negan’s hand reaches down stroking my hair. I take him deeper, my hand moving down massaging his balls. My lips tight and my tongue skims along his shaft, teeth grazing slightly. His grip on my hair tightens. I groan moving my mouth faster up and down his length. I slurp and suck as he begins to thrusts. I let the tip hit the back of my throat with a moan of my own. I could feel his cock thicken, twitching as he gets closer and closer.

“Oh fuck, baby,” he slows his movements, giving me back the control I need, I stroke and suck as he releases in my throat, I suck and lick and swallow each satisfying drop. “Goddamn, shit, fuck, that was good.” I smile over at him as I fall to the bed beside him. “I fucking mean it,” he looks at me, “you make me see fucking stars everytime you suck my dick. It’s fucking magical.”

“Thank you,” I watch him smiling, his pants still around his thighs, “I am glad you enjoyed.”

“I more than fucking enjoyed,” he pulls me to his chest, “Give me a minute, fuck, for my legs to work again.” I can’t help but chuckle. “You can’t fucking tell anyone that you are my fucking kryptonite.”

“Stop,” I press my face into his shoulder to quiet my laughs, “I am hungry. What do you have to eat in here since you can’t walk and take me for a proper meal?” I stand from the bed. I tug the hair tie from my hair and let it cascade down my back. He reaches down pulling his pants back up.

“I got whiskey,” he chuckles nodding at the bottle of jack on the table in the corner, “and salted nuts.”

“Is your plan to starve me into submission?” I turn back to him smiling, “I am already here.”

“I hadn’t thought about that,” he sits up pulling me into his lap, his hands gripping my hips, “I can’t have you starve though. I like your ass just as it is.”

“We can go down stairs grab a tray of food from the kitchen,” I lean back against his chest, “But that would require pants.”

“I am not fucking ready for you to get back in your pants. I /just/ got you out of them.” He gives my tit a squeeze over my shirt.

I groan at his touch, my hips rolling slowly in his lap, “How do we solve this problem?” He reaches over grabbing his walkie and calls for Fat Joey, telling him to bring some food up.

Negan wraps his arm around my waist to stop my movements. “Fuck, if you ain’t already tryin’ to make my dick hard again. I sure as shit don’t want Fat Joey walking in while I’m pounding into you.”

“I never figured you to be the shy one,” I tilt my head pressing my lips to his, “So, what do you want to do until dinner comes?” He lifts me up and drops me on the bed then plops beside me.

“Let me just have a fucking look at you,” he lays on his side and I turn to face him, “you sure you don’t wanna be my wife? You’d look hot as hell in a black dress and heels.”

“Hell no,” I push my hair out of my face, “I hate wearing dresses, can’t walk in heels. Don’t want someone to just take care of me.”

“I want to fucking take care of you,” he says, “keep you out of the shit show.”

“I can handle the shit show,” I rest my hand on his face, “I can take care of myself. Wouldn’t you rather I be with you because I want to, not because I feel obligated to? I can be yours if you want me,” I lock my gaze with his, “I just can’t be one of them.”

“Shi-ot,” he responds, “you drive one hell of a fucking bargain, baby.” He presses his lips to my forehead as his hand gropes my tit. “You are /mine/. If you keep giving me head like that I can bend the fucking rules.”

“You are all about the rules though,” I lift my face to his pressing my lips to his, “thank you.” A knock at the door interrupts the kiss. “Dinner.” I smile as he rolls from the bed.

“Fat Joseph,” he chuckles as he opens the door, “/my/ girl wants me to feed her before I fuck her so get your ass in here with her food.” My face flushes a pink. He looks over at me, “Why you acting all bashful now?”

“Yes, sir. Negan,” he brings in the tray of food in and sets it on the table. “Anything else you need?” Joey looks from Negan to me with a dumb grin on his face.

“Don’t look at her,” Negan barked, “Get the fuck out.” He slams the door after the man.

“Looks good,” I step from the bed taking a carrot from the plate, “I used to hate eating cooked carrots.” I chew then swallow, “But now I love them. Guess a lot changes at the end of the world.”

“Come over here and sit down with me,” he pats the seat next to his, “I fucking need a closer look at those titties.”

“I was having trying to have a moment with you,” I take a seat next to him, picking up another piece of carrot.

“Nobody likes carrots,” he chuckles picking one up and taking a bite, “except fucking rabbits.” He gives my thigh a squeeze, “I think I like you better without pants. If you won’t wear a dress just a t-shirt that clings to your titties like that is fine with me.”

“I like you better without pants too. If you want to walk around the Sanctuary in just your underwear so will I,” I grab a fork and jab it into the mystery meat on my plate.

“I am the leader of the Saviors,” he grins, “and you’re my...what are we gonna call you.”

“Lover, Queen,” I smirk straddling his lap, “Goddess. Baby. Light of your life. Any one of those work for me. Or we can not have a label.”

He chuckles, sliding his hands along my thighs, cupping my ass, “I like you even more when you’re sitting in my lap like that.” He grinds up into me. I groan leaning in to kiss him. My hand reaches between us tugging at the button of his pants to pull his cock out again. Without breaking the kiss he lifts my hips up pushes my panties aside and grins against my lips. “I love how fucking wet you get for me.” I line him up with my warm wet entrance and sink down fully on his length. “Jee-sus, baby,” he groans into my lips as I take him all the way in, “I almost forgot how fucking fantastic your pussy feels.”

“Shhh…” I moan as I start to rock my hips, my fingers clinging to his shoulders for balance as I move. His grip on my hips tightens and he thrusts up into me matching my movements. Rock for rock thrust for thrust we move together. I moan when his hand moves between us rubbing my clit causing me to squeeze tighter around him. Move faster. I groan when he lifts me laying me on my back on the couch and drives his cock hard and deep inside my warmth, hitting the spot that makes me come undone. My thighs tighten as they start to tremble around his hips and my walls pulse around him. “Fuck, Negan,” I cry out as I cum, my eyes dark as they fix on his. He pulls out stroking his cock a few times before releasing on my shirt.

“Goddamn, shit,” he chuckles his pants still almost on and covered with my juices. “I like that shit.”

“I know,” I tug my shirt up and over my head after adjusting my panties, “here’s the evidence.” I giggle tossing it in his direction.

“You did not just throw your cum covered shirt at me,” he lifts me up in his arm and swats my ass with his palm.

I squeal, “It’s your cum. Take me to bed now. You have successfully warned me out.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he chuckles and carries me over to the bed. He drops me and tugs off his clothes and climbs in beside me. “Rest now.” I tuck myself in his side and close my eyes. Feeling right next to him.

#negan twd negan negan's thirst squad negan fanfiction twd

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stephenmccull · 4 years

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The Color of COVID: Will Vaccine Trials Reflect America’s Diversity?

When U.S. scientists launch the first large-scale clinical trials for COVID-19 vaccines this summer, Antonio Cisneros wants to make sure people like him are included.

Cisneros, who is 34 and Hispanic, is part of the first wave of an expected 1.5 million volunteers willing to get the shots to help determine whether leading vaccine candidates can thwart the virus that sparked a deadly pandemic.

“If I am asked to participate, I will,” said Cisneros, a Los Angeles cinematographer who has signed up for two large vaccine trial registries. “It seems part of our duty.”

It will take more than duty, however, to ensure that clinical trials to establish vaccine safety and effectiveness actually include representative numbers of African Americans, Latinos and other racial minorities, as well as older people and those with underlying medical conditions, such as kidney disease.

Black and Latino people have been three times as likely as white people to become infected with COVID-19 and twice as likely to die, according to federal data obtained via a lawsuit by The New York Times. Asian Americans appear to account for fewer cases but have higher rates of death. Eight out of 10 COVID deaths reported in the U.S. have been of people ages 65 and older. And the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention warns that chronic kidney disease is among the top risk factors for serious infection.

Antonio Cisneros, a Los Angeles cinematographer, signed up for two COVID-19 vaccine trial registries. He is among the first wave of volunteers. “If I am asked to participate, I will,” says Cisneros. “It seems part of our duty.”(Photo by Steven Shea)

Historically, however, those groups have been less likely to be included in clinical trials for disease treatment, despite federal rules requiring minority and elder participation and the ongoing efforts of patient advocates to diversify these crucial medical studies.

In a summer dominated by COVID-19 and protests against racial injustice, there are growing demands that drugmakers and investigators ensure that vaccine trials reflect the entire community.

“If Black people have been the victims of COVID-19, we’re going to be the key to unlocking the mystery of COVID-19,” said the Rev. Anthony Evans, president of the National Black Church Initiative, a coalition of 150,000 African American churches.

Evans and his team met in mid-July with officials from Moderna, the Massachusetts biotech firm that launched the first COVID vaccine trial in the U.S., to discuss a collaboration in which NBCI would supply African American participants. But that was less than two weeks before the start of a phase 3 trial expected to enroll 30,000 people, and Evans said the meeting was his idea.

“It’s not that the industry came to me,” he said. “I went to the industry.”

Blacks make up about 13% of the U.S. population but on average 5% of clinical trial participants, research shows. For Hispanics, trial participation is about 1% on average, though they account for about 18% of the population.

When it comes to trials for drug treatments and vaccines, diversity matters. For reasons not always fully understood, people of different races and ethnicities can respond differently to drugs or therapies, research shows. Immune response wanes with age, so there’s a high-dose flu shot for people 65 and older.

Still, the pressure to produce an effective vaccine quickly during a pandemic could sideline efforts to ensure diversity, said Dr. Kathryn Stephenson, director of the clinical trials unit in the Center for Virology and Vaccine Research at Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center in Boston.

“One of the questions that has come up is, What do you do if you’re a site investigator and you have 250 people banging on your door — and they’re all white?” she said.

Do you enroll those people, reasoning that the faster the trial progresses, the faster a vaccine will be available for everyone? Or do you turn away people and slow down the study?

“You’re accelerating development of a vaccine, and if you hit a milestone, what is the meaning of that milestone if you don’t know if it’s very safe or effective in [a given] population? Is that really hitting the milestone for everyone?” she said.

Including people who are elderly or have underlying medical conditions is vital to the science of vaccines and other treatments, even if it’s more difficult to recruit patients otherwise healthy enough to participate, advocates said.

“We have to admit that older adults are the ones who are likely to develop side effects” to treatments and vaccines, said Dr. Sharon Inouye, director of the Aging Brain Center and a professor of medicine at Harvard Medical School. “On the other hand, that is the population that will be using it.”

People with kidney disease, which affects 1 in 7 U.S. adults, have been left out of clinical research for decades, said Richard Knight, a transplant recipient and president of the American Association of Kidney Patients. Nearly 70% of more than 400 kidney disease patients the organization surveyed in July said they’d never been asked to join a clinical trial.

Excluding from the vaccine trial such a large population vulnerable to COVID doesn’t make sense, Knight contended. “If you’re trying to manage this from a public health standpoint, you want to make sure you’re inoculating your highest-risk populations,” he said.

New guidance from the federal Food and Drug Administration, which regulates vaccines, “strongly encourages” the inclusion of diverse populations in clinical vaccine development. That includes racial and ethnic minorities, elderly people and those with underlying medical problems, as well as pregnant women.

But the FDA does not require drugmakers and researchers to meet those goals, and will not refuse trial data that doesn’t comply. And while the federal government is rushing billions of dollars to fast-track more than a half-dozen leading candidates for COVID vaccines, the pharmaceutical firms producing them are not required to publicly disclose their demographic goals.

“This is business as usual,” said Marjorie Speers, executive director of Clinical Research Pathways, a nonprofit group in Atlanta that works to increase diversity in research. “It’s very likely these [COVID] trials will not include minorities because there’s not a strong statement to do that.”

The vaccine trials are being coordinated through the COVID-19 Prevention Network, or CoVPN, based at the Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center in Seattle. It draws on four long-standing federally funded clinical trial networks, including three that target HIV and AIDS.

Those trial networks were chosen in large part because they have rich relationships in Black, Latino and other minority communities, said Stephaun Wallace, director of external relations for CoVPN. The hope is to leverage existing connections based on trust and collaboration.

“Our clinical trial sites are prepped and ready to engage diverse people,” Wallace said.

Wallace acknowledged, however, that attracting a diverse population requires investigators to be flexible and innovative. There can be practical problems. Clinic hours may be limited or transportation may be an issue. Older people may have problems with sight or hearing and require extra help to follow protocols.

Distrust of the medical establishment also can be a barrier. African Americans, for instance, have a well-founded wariness of medical experiments after the infamous Tuskegee Study and the exploitation of Henrietta Lacks. That extends to suspicion about recommended vaccines, said Wallace.

“Part of the consideration for many groups is not wanting to feel like a guinea pig or feel like they’re being experimented on,” he said.

Moderna, which plans to launch its phase 3 trial Monday, said the company is working to ensure participants “are representative of the communities at highest risk for COVID-19 and of our diverse society.”

However, results of the company’s phase 1 trial, released in mid-July, showed that of 45 people included in that safety test, six were Hispanic, two were Black, one was Asian and one was Native American. Forty were white.

Phase 1 and phase 2 clinical trials aim to test the best dose and safety of vaccines in small groups of people. Phase 3 trials assess the efficacy of the drug in tens of thousands of people.

Investigators at nearly 90 sites across the U.S. are preparing now to recruit participants for Moderna’s phase 3 trial. Dr. Carlos del Rio, executive associate dean at the Emory University School of Medicine, will seek 750 volunteers at three Atlanta-area sites. Half will receive the vaccine; half, placebo injections.

Del Rio has had marked success recruiting minorities for HIV trials and expects similar results with the vaccine trial. “We’re trying to do our best to get out to the communities that are most at risk,” he said.

Meanwhile, vaccine volunteers like Cisneros just want the advanced trials to start. He signed up for the CoVPN trials. But earlier, he also signed up for 1 Day Sooner, an effort to launch human challenge trials, which aim to speed up vaccine development by deliberately infecting participants with the virus. Such trials can be completed in weeks rather than months but risk exposing volunteers to severe illness or death, and federal officials remain leery.

Cisneros is willing to take that risk to help halt COVID-19, which has killed 143,000 Americans. He said it’s a way to take action at a time when the U.S. government has failed to protect minorities, the elderly and other vulnerable people.

“Government is supposed to help those who can’t protect themselves,” he said. “It appears to me the only thing they want to protect is people with money, people with guns — and not brown people like me.”

Kaiser Health News (KHN) is a national health policy news service. It is an editorially independent program of the Henry J. Kaiser Family Foundation which is not affiliated with Kaiser Permanente.

The Color of COVID: Will Vaccine Trials Reflect America’s Diversity? published first on https://smartdrinkingweb.weebly.com/

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The Color of COVID: Will Vaccine Trials Reflect America’s Diversity?

When U.S. scientists launch the first large-scale clinical trials for COVID-19 vaccines this summer, Antonio Cisneros wants to make sure people like him are included.

“If I am asked to participate, I will,” said Cisneros, a Los Angeles cinematographer who has signed up for two large vaccine trial registries. “It seems part of our duty.”