#writing is being Slow right now because guess who chipped a tooth and has to wait at least three days before it can do anything abt it

[pyrriax]

^ working on planning bingo fics in my spare time

[neonacity]

HYACINTHE | CHAPTER 4: JAEMIN X READER

SUMMARY: 

Na Jaemin is far from being your typical 20 year old. Instead of slaving through college, he wastes away his hours cracking safes. Weekends that should be spent partying with friends consist of illegal races on good days and small scale bombings on bad ones. 

Na Jaemin is far from being average, unless you consider being a member of Seoul’s top organized crime family normal. There is no such thing as a sense of normality and peace in his trainwreck of a life, so when he met a barista who was brave enough to call out his dangerous taste in coffee, he was like a moth to the flame. Everything about her is normal, which means she is forbidden to him, in all sense of the word. So why, then, does he always find himself at the front steps of her shop, breaking all his personal rules even if he wishes he could stay away?

A/N + Disclaimer: this is a side story to Black Daisies, my main mafia fic feat. 0T23. While the plot is based on the main story, this can also be read as a standalone fic. As usual, this is purely a work of fiction and in no way am I implying any member of NCT to behave the way I write them here. 

TW: crimes, heists, potential death, mentions of drugs and other illegal activities.

PAIRING: Jaemin x Reader 

CHAPTER 1 / CHAPTER 2 / CHAPTER 3 / 

FIC TRAILER

MASTERLIST

"Hi. Can I have one iced americano, no sugar, with an espresso shot, please?" 

 My hands froze and hovered momentarily on the drink I was preparing as I heard a male voice say that from the counter. I didn't turn around to check who it was, but my boss—who is currently helping me man the cafe today—was quick enough to dash the pit-pattering of my chest. He hooked the order slip on the board in front of me and my eyes immediately raised to read the name there. 

"One to-go, americano for Youngho." 

I sighed internally. Whether it be from relief or disappointment though, I don't really know. A part of me wanted to be in denial of my emotions, but I realized you can only go so far if the person you are trying to fool is just yourself. 

It's been almost three months since that night that I last saw Jaemin. I wish I didn't know the exact number of days that passed since then, but I do and I couldn't help it. Every little detail of what happened was still marked fresh in my mind, especially the feeling of hollowness that exploded in my chest when I woke up that morning to see them gone.

If not for the chip on the edge of the table left by Jeno as he tried to hold a half delirious Haechan down that night, I could have easily brushed off everything as a fleeting dream. But it isn't. It is a nightmare, at least in my part. 

He really meant it when he said he would leave me alone. 

There were no calls, no messages, no visits, nothing. It was like he didn't exist at all, the past year spent with him nothing but an imagined illusion. 

We were back to being strangers again, exactly like how he wants to. If you think about it, it's selfless of him to do this, but I hate it. I hate it with everything I have. 

Why? Because now I have to live through the feeling that I'm the only one suffering from all of that has happened. I couldn't watch the news anymore without thinking about him. For heaven's sake, I couldn't even get an iced coffee order without freezing like a statue because I remember him. I hate it. I hate every single moment without him, as much as I didn't want to admit it.

I placed the plastic cover over the finished drink with a soft sigh before turning to hand it over to the customer. At least I can still manage to put out my well-practiced, service smile. 

"Iced Americano for Youngho," I called out into the receiving area as I slipped a straw on the cup sleeve. A tall man looked up and walked over to me to receive it. 

"Thank you for coming to Brick and Beans. I hope you visit us again soon," I said in autopilot, my words so well-rehearsed that I didn't even have to think through while delivering them. The customer smiled at me before giving me a wink.

"I sure will. Thanks for this, sweet cheeks." He turned and left the shop, leaving me slightly confused. 

My attention was then called by my boss who had just finished wiping down the counter. The man—who really has been more of a father figure than an employer for me—gave me a warm smile and motioned me over. 

"Can we talk? I have something to tell you." 

I briefly glanced at the clock. It isn't my break time yet, but the store is empty so I guess it will be fine. I shrugged. 

"Sure."

"Grab a cake for you and me while you're at it," he nodded towards the pastry fridge before walking towards the nearest empty table. I wordlessly took two slices of basque cheesecake, his favorite, before following him. The man has a mean sweet tooth and we both know it.

He was silent for a little bit as he took the fork to take a bite of his treat. I waited patiently for him to speak, hands politely folded over my lap.

"I'm going to sell the cafe." 

I blinked and stared. I wasn't expecting that at all. 

"You're… what?" 

He sighed and leaned back against his seat. He looked a little sad over what he just said but he managed to offer me a small smile.

"I'm getting older. You know how much I love this place because I started it with my late wife, but I really can't continue to manage it anymore. My children, unfortunately, do not have any plans of continuing the business. And they've been asking me to retire, too." 

I nodded slowly, taking the news bit by bit. 

"Do you already have a buyer, ahjussi?" 

"I do. It is kind of strange, actually. Someone offered to buy off the franchise at such a perfect time. And for a very good price, too." 

That made me smile. I've had this job ever since I started college so it makes me a little sad that it's going to have a new owner, but I really am happy for him. I just hope whoever buys it off takes care of it really well. The old man loves this place to bits. 

I felt him take a hold of my hands from across the table. I looked up and was met with a fatherly smile. 

"Don't worry. You won't lose your job. The new owners said that they aren't planning to change anything here and I told them that they had to take you with them." 

That made me almost want to burst into tears. I squeezed his hand back in return. 

"Ahjussi... You didn't have to do that. I can always look for another job." Who am I kidding? I know it will be hard for me to land another sideline especially with all the financial hiccups I am already dealing with so this is really sending me over to the edge of tears. 

"Nonsense. You are part of this business. You've done so much for this place so you deserve this. Don't worry, they said yes to my condition." 

I gave his hands another squeeze and he answered back with a fatherly pat. 

"Thank you…" 

"You're welcome. Just promise me, when you become a doctor, you'll give me free checkups, okay?" 

"No, I won't. Because you will always be healthy and won't need my help at all," I said with a wrinkle of my nose. 

That sent the two of us laughing. 

"When will the new owners take over?"

"By the end of the month," my eyes rounded with surprise and he nodded in understanding. "I know, I know. It really happened too fast. I can't turn down the offer though. To be honest it was way beyond what the business is worth." 

I sighed. "Well… as long as you are sure about them." 

"I am. For now, I'll be here for a bit with you. I just need to enjoy my last days here. So just don't mind your old man, okay?" 

I grinned. 

"Only if you promise to give me a free cake every day you are here." 

He reached out to ruffle my hair. 

"Deal."

----

It was a slow day at the cafe so my boss decided to turn down the jazz music that usually floats from the speakers in lieu of the television volume. It was an odd hour in the afternoon and I found myself smiling as I watched him flip the channels over to look for a good show to watch while I dried some mugs. Just then, the overhead bell on the door dinged, welcoming with it a pair of uni-looking kids. 

My boss looked over, but I was quick to jump to action instead. "I'll take care of it," I mouthed to him, to which he gave me a smile before turning his attention back to what he was doing.

"Hi. Welcome to Brick and Beans. What can I offer you today?"

"We'll have one dirty chai latte and one irish coffee over ice. Make it to go. " 

The couple offered their names and I nodded as I punched their orders on my POS. "Would you like some pastries to go with that?"

"No, that's all."

"Got it, you can wait over there to the side. I'll have your drinks with you shortly," I said with a smile. The girl pulled the boy over into the receiving area to continue their conversation. 

"So what I'm saying is, we gotta go. Tonight is going to be epic. The bets will be high for sure. We can get some mean cash if we put it in the right car." 

The other gave a soft snort and started drumming his fingers against the wood of the counter. I let their conversation act as white noise while I worked behind the bar.

"I don't know. You're not even sure who is going to be there." 

"Jeno is in the line-up. That at least is confirmed."

I dropped the metal scooper I was using on the floor with a resounding clang. 

The three others in the room looked over to me as I hurriedly picked it up with shaking hands. I gave all parties a sheepish look before turning on my back to continue what I was doing. 

This time, I was full-on listening. 

"If Jeno's going to be there, then it is a goner. There's no chance for others. It'll be full-on suicide," the boy said thoughtfully. The girl, however, shrugged in reply. 

"They said the others might come, too. You know, to make the run a little bit more balanced," she offered. 

"You mean the seven?"

"The Four, at least."

"Oh shit."

"Uh-huh. So I'm telling you, we gotta be there man. If we can't bet then fine, but we have to see it. It’s been ages since they actually went on lane." 

I didn't really know how I managed to finish what I was doing, not with how hard my heart was beating in my chest. I'm not sure how many Jeno's there are in this part of town, but I am sure as hell that there is only one who is a member of a seven-piece 'group.' 

"Here's your order," I said thinly as I pushed the finished drinks over to them by the counter. The boy offered his card and I took it quickly, all the while thinking of what I should do next. The few seconds of me typing away at the terminal was the longest quarter minute of my life.

"Here's your receipt. Thank you for coming and see us again," I said, my voice a little weaker than usual. The couple gave a quick bow before turning to leave, drinks in hand. 

There are two ways this could go. I could let them out of that door and have my only possible chance of getting in contact with any of the boys leave with them. Or I could call after them and…

I whipped around to call out to my boss, my figure already halfway out from the bar. 

"Ahjussi, I'll be back in five minutes, sorry. I promise I'll be quick!"

He had barely looked up when I started running out the door.

-----

"Excuse me!" 

The duo looked back at me, then at each other in confusion as I tried my best to hurry up to them without landing on my face. God, why do they walk so fast? They were just a few seconds ahead when they left the shop! Thankfully, they stopped at my call, giving me a chance to skid before them as I tried to catch my breath.

"Um… Is there a problem? We paid, right?" The boy asked me with an odd look. I waved my hand before finally trying to answer. 

"Yes. I uh—"

Well, I obviously didn't plan this out clearly. How do I say this now without sounding like a lunatic? 

"I heard your conversation earlier. You were talking about Jeno."

The pair exchanged glances again, this time tinged with suspicion. It was the girl who answered this time. 

"Yes, we were. What about it?" 

"I… I just want—to maybe know where he is? You were talking about tonight's—"

"The drag race?"

I stopped for half a heartbeat before nodding. 

"Yeah. The race. I wanted to come, too, but I don't really know the address." 

The boy cocked his brow at me in blatant suspicion. It took all of me to pull out all the basics I learned from drama class back in high school to remain calm before his withering glare. 

"You know Jeno but don't know the address? That doesn't make any sense," he said as he crossed his arms over his chest. "If you've been in one before you should have been included in the text blast."

Oh shit. 

I could feel my palms growing cold from nervousness. Still, I tried pushing on. 

"W-well, I was invited before by one of them. But then things fell apart and I started not getting any of the...texts anymore," I said, not having the slightest idea of what I am saying myself. What's ironic though was that what I just blurted out was sort of a half-truth, too.

Apparently—and miraculously—it also made sense by the look of understanding that dawned on their faces. 

"I see…" the girl trailed off. She cleared her throat and looked at her friend before glancing at me again. 

"Look, I can give you the address, but promise me that you never got it from me when someone asks, okay?" She asked. The boy looked at her incredulously.

"Are you crazy? She was already shadow banned!"

She shushed him and waved her hand off to shut him up. "Look, this is a girl thing. Don't mess with it. Just go ahead to the car, I'll take care of it." 

He scoffed but stalked off towards the direction of the parking lot. 

She turned towards me again and pulled her phone from the pocket of her leather jacket. I watched as she unlocked the screen before showing it to me. 

"Do you have your phone with ya? Here, take a photo of this address." 

I swear I could almost kiss her. I scrambled to get my phone from my back pocket and didn't waste another second to take a snap of her screen.

"Thank you so much." 

She nodded in understanding before locking her phone again and shoving it into her pocket. "Hey, a girl's gotta stand up for another. Who was it? Was it Haechan?" 

"Um…" 

She didn't wait for me to finish. 

"Really, whoever it is among them, I can't really blame you. They're all cute, but they do need to be taken down a notch when it comes to girls. Those boys," she tsked. "Dangerous." 

Oh…

Oh. She thought I was an ex-fling who wanted to teach one of them a lesson by crashing the race. I let that sink in before a frown settled on my features. 

Well, aren't you one? The devil on my shoulder cackled at me sardonically. 

"Glad to have helped though. But remember, you didn't get it from me, okay?"

With a wink, she strutted off, leaving me staring at her retreating form. 

----

I told myself I simply wanted to see him again. 

I reminded myself that for the hundredth time tonight as I parked my car on a free space by a gravel road, my eyes roaming the darkness beyond. The place looked deserted, and I had to do one last check if I really put in the right coordinates on my map before finally turning off my engine. The road beyond was wide but uncemented and to its left is a half unfinished building with metal banisters reaching out to the sky like skeletal arms. I swallowed. Every little thing about the space beyond screams danger.

Which probably means I am in the right place. 

I reached out to zip up my jacket and pulled the hoodie over my head before getting out of my car. My sneakers crunched on the gravel as I made my way towards a low wall circling the building beyond. 

Just try and take a look. You don't have to talk to him. You can keep your distance. 

I repeated that in my head again and again as I approached what I assume to be the entrance. A part of me still wants to berate myself for doing this but I am too far gone to try and play the denial game again. I want, no, I need to see Jaemin's world.

The moment I passed through a crack on the wall, it felt like I stepped into a different world. It opened up into an even wider area, the shadows of a multi-lane road behind the abandoned building beyond. Milling around is a throng of people, some smoking, others sipping on red cups on their hands. Some cars were parked against the wall I just passed, their headlights on with music booming out of their rolled down windows. 

I tried to swallow the lump on my throat as I looked around. Already, I felt out of place in the crowd, but I steeled myself to push on, my hands digging deeper into the pockets of my jacket.

"Hey." 

I looked up to see a boy around my age wave at me. He was also holding a red cup and what looked like a bundle of paper. My eyes widened as that came into focus when he got closer. 

Money. 

Wads and wads of cash. 

"You put your bets already?" He asked as he stuffed the bills into a small belt bag hidden beneath his oversized shirt. He pulled his phone out then, unlocked the screen, and looked at me, waiting for an answer. 

"Uh…" 

He gave me an odd look.

"Who are you betting on?" He asked again. 

I gave the first name I could only think of. 

"Ja-Jaemin," I stuttered.

That earned me a low whistle from him as he typed away at his phone, probably to record my choice of 'player.' "I don't know, man. Dude seems pretty out of it lately, but whatever floats your boat." He stuck out his hand to me then, and it took me a few seconds to realize what he was asking for. 

"Oh," I scrambled to grab my purse. I was in the middle of pulling my card from my wallet when I saw his face. Slowly, I put it back to reach out for bills instead. 

"Cash only." 

I sheepishly handed him the last few hundreds I have. He took them, expertly flipping through each bill to count them off. 

"First time, eh?" 

I nodded. 

I watched as he slipped the money into his already overflowing belt bag, thinking that he would leave after that. Instead he nudged his head towards the direction of the building and motioned me along. 

"Come on then. At least try and get a good look at your first race." 

I blinked in confusion but ran after him as he started walking away. 

We stopped at the front row of the half ring of people that had already gathered in front of the abandoned rafters. Just then, a huge spotlight shone over the road behind it, driving everyone to erupt in cheers. Parked in a single line at the foot of the road are five cars, headlights opening one by one.

"Jaemin's the yellow one," the boy nodded towards the one occupying the third lane. I stared. I know next to nothing about cars, but I know enough to be sure that none of the ones in front of me now are something you can buy from your run-of-the-mill auto dealer. Lowered, with shining reams, and a low motor hum that reverberated to where I was standing, I could only briefly compute in my head how much each of those customized rides must have cost. 

I heard the boy beside me snort amusedly. "Your first race and you get to see this. I'm telling you, this happens once in a blue moon," he said with a smirk. I didn't say anything, my gaze never leaving the yellow car. 

Slowly though, I noticed the crowd's noise die down dramatically the same time that a petite form walked out from the building. The woman stopped in the middle of the road and raised her hand into the night sky, a small pistol in her grasp.

Everyone has gone so quiet now that you could almost hear a needle dropping. Just then, the resounding bang of a gunshot pierced the air. Few other large spotlights turned on simultaneously, revealing the snaking road ahead that was disguised under the darkness earlier. I gasped. The roaring sound of engines blared beyond and with a new uproar from the crowd, the cars were speeding ahead, leaving trails of light in their wake. 

My heart was beating so hard against my chest as I tried my best to follow the speeding cars ahead. I was only able to comprehend the real expanse of the road the moment each ride took over its lanes—the place looked more like an abandoned air dock field more than anything else. I was barely aware of my nails digging on the palms of my hands as my eyes switched from Jaemin’s car and the others, particularly on the deep red one that he was currently toe in toe with. The space between the two were a hair’s breadth away and I could almost swear their sides would collide any second. 

That went on until a curve on the road appeared. It was the last turn before the finish line and the crowd turned wilder as the nose of each car tried its best to take the lead. I didn’t even realize that I was holding my breath until the last second when the yellow one took over the inner space of the road before swerving successfully ahead.

Everyone around me erupted in cheers. I gave my own gasp, hands covering my lips before joining the rest.

Jaemin’s yellow lambo parked on the finish line, the rest of the race participants trailing behind. I watched as his door opened, revealing his beautiful wide grin and tousled hair. He was glowing, cheeks flushed from the adrenaline. I was so caught up in the image that I barely noticed Jeno appearing from the red car, followed by Renjun, Mark, and Haechan from the other rides. 

I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I watched with a smile as they huddled over Jaemin, playfully pushing and cajoling him for his win. They looked happy, carefree.

But it seems like they aren’t the only ones who were out there in the road. My gaze moved back to Jaemin's car when I saw his passenger seat open. As if in slow motion, a girl got out of it, wearing the same wide smile the others have. The group hooted at her as she joined their huddle. 

That’s when I felt as if time has stopped.  

The smile on my face slowly faded as I watched Jaemin wrap his arms around her before pulling her into a tight hug. 

---

A/N: Hey guys! This is going to be the second to the last chapter of Jaemin’s side story! I originally wanted to finish it in one go, but I thought it would be nice to release the epilogue on Nana’s birthday! So yes, that’ll be out on the 13th, lol. Thank you so much to those who have continued reading this side fic! <3

Chapter 5 (END)

Taglist: @negincho​, @springdaybreaks​, 

[melanqoli]

Well, the semester has officially begun. I’ve been in my new place for almost two weeks (already!) and I am well passed the deadline I set for my summer writing goals. Did I achieve them? Well… kind of.

 This wasn’t the summer I thought it would be. It wasn’t the summer of unbridled productivity, but it also wasn’t a summer full of cycling, hiking, and fun with friends. It was just a slew of depressingly similar days where I fought with my research project and my motivation, and where things kept going wrong in small ways, and where I couldn’t sleep and felt exhausted all the time, but also guilty about not being able to do more. I thought a big part of the problem was stress about the eviction, and I hoped that finding a new place and moving into it would alleviate that stress. I’m not sure if it did. Don’t get me wrong: I’m overjoyed to have found secure housing in a neighbourhood I like—but I’m still not myself. I’m really struggling to accept where I am in life and my career right now. I turned 30 at the end of July, and I guess just thought things would be easier by now. I feel deeply, deeply disappointed in myself for how little I’ve done.

 I’m teaching again this semester at one of my university’s satellite campuses. The student demographic at this campus is a little different than the one I’m used to, and while our 100-level English courses are always full of non-majors, this one is full of first- and second-year business majors.

 It’s probably no secret that I think business school is a hoax (my dissertation is, among many things, a critical interrogation of the formation of economics as a discipline) but I have nothing against business students. In fact, I like them a lot: they’re outgoing, chatty, confident, and not afraid of making mistakes, which means they’re a lot easier to work with than more introverted groups of students who are terrified of saying anything that could turn out to be wrong (I like those students, too; they’re just more challenging to teach). That said, I had some pretty weird feelings after our first class this week—feelings that I’ve never had before. The students were brimming with barely contained, back-to-school energy, which is something I usually find positive and contagious. But I didn’t catch their enthusiasm this time. Instead, I felt envious of them—envious because they’re at the beginning of their journey, because they’re full of hope, because they haven’t fucked up yet, because they’re too young to have wasted all the time I’ve wasted. I was standing there in front of the students, outwardly teaching but inwardly wondering if I look like some washed-up loser to them.

 Like, wow. 30. Unmarried. Probably never going to be married. Intermittently employed. Can’t afford to fix her broken tooth. Has a variety of skills no one cares about but no skills that earn money. What a loser.

 Ugly thoughts, I know. And the students probably weren’t thinking them, I know. Honestly, I don’t even believe in marriage and I don’t care about my chipped tooth, so I have no idea why these thoughts were going through my head. What colossally unkind things to say to myself. Why am I feeling this bad?

 I don’t know—and I’m not done my dissertation. I did almost everything I said I was going to do in the summer, but it wasn’t enough. The goal is always receding. The 5000 words that I thought was gunna finish the introduction didn’t finish it. The huge chapter I revised will probably need more revising. And so it goes. I need to get an article out but I don’t feel like anything I’ve written is good enough. I just wanna feel good enough.

 No marathon this fall. I’m running 4-5x a week, but just for general fitness and to keep my love of wine and chocolate from affecting my waistline too drastically. I have no desire to train. I don’t post about runs ‘cause ya’ll don’t need to see my slow loops around the same damn park. I guess I also don’t post because I don’t feel much enthusiasm for running at the moment. Art and storytelling are bringing me deeper fulfillment right now, and the ordering of my hobbies is one area in which I can guiltlessly choose the path of least resistance.  

[intrepidolivia]

Tarot: 3--The Empress

Pairing: NeganXOlivia (OC)

Warnings: cursing, implications of abuse, discussion of injuries

Summary: A/B/O AU. Sherry gets Olivia settled in, she meets Frankie, and has dinner with Negan.

A/N: Been a little slow writing of late, but I’m already working on the next chapter!

The Empress is traditionally associated with maternal influence, it is the card if you are hoping to start a family. She can represent the creation of life, romance, art, or new business.

Sherry led Olivia through the lounge to a hallway lined with doors. Most of them were closed, though a couple stood cracked open, allowing her to see into fairly well appointed bedrooms. Sherry pointed to one of the closed doors.

“This one’s me,” she told her, and opened the next door. “And this will be you.”

The room was plain, which didn’t surprise her. It had been unoccupied for some time, after all. There was a dresser, a small table serving as a desk, and a double bed with cobbled-together bedclothes. It was better than anything she’d had since the world ended.

“Thank you,” she said, looking up at Sherry.

Sherry chuckled, ruffling her hair. “It’s not much, but once you start earning points you’ll be able to fix it up a little. I can help with that if you promise not to tell Negan,” she winked.

Olivia grinned a bit. “Won’t say a word,” she promised, taking a tentative step inside the room. There was no lock on the door, she noticed, but it still felt safer than most places she’d been. The windows were set high in the wall, too small for someone to climb into. She could barricade the door if need be. She shook herself. She was safe here. She didn’t need to think that way.

“We’ll go ahead and get you some fresh clothes, and a shower. I’m sure you’re dying for both,” Sherry said, leaning on the doorframe.

She nodded eagerly. “I am. I feel like I’m crawling out of my skin.” She was also desperate to lessen her scent. Any Alpha close to her would know what she was, but a proper shower, with soap and maybe even perfume, would make it a little less obvious. She hesitated, glancing at Sherry’s outfit. “Do I… have to wear a dress and heels?”

Sherry laughed, shaking her head. “This is just for wives,” she said. “So, advantage or drawback depending on your point of view.”

“I’ve never been much on heels,” Olivia confessed. “I can’t move in them very well.” She wondered, perhaps uncharitably, if that was why Negan liked his wives in them.

“No one can,” Sherry smirked. “Honestly half the time I just have on slippers and save these stupid things for public purposes. But I’ll grab you a few changes of clothes, and some shoes. What’s Negan going to put you to work doing? Did he say?”

Olivia nodded. “I used to be a nurse. So he’s going to have me working in the infirmary. Starting tomorrow I guess.”

Sherry raised an eyebrow. “Huh, that should pay a lot of points. So you should be pretty good as far as the essentials.”

“Hopefully. I’ll be out for a week every month,” she sighed. “Without suppressants it’s hard to get out of bed, much less to try to work. Not to mention being around other people.”

“Well, Negan’s sure not going to let you go roaming around if you’re in heat,” Sherry agreed, sympathetically.

Olivia frowned a bit. “I’m pretty sure he thinks he’s going to mate me.” He would be a safe choice in some ways. He was dangerous, but he was strong. More than equal to the task of keeping her safe, considering what he’d built with Sanctuary. Still, the thought frightened her.

“Probably so,” Sherry said. “But he’s under the impression he’s irresistible. My advice? Even if you decide to say yes to him, make him work for it some.” She gave Olivia a sharp-toothed grin. “He doesn’t force anyone to be his wife, but there are undeniable benefits all of us take advantage of for one reason or another. And Alpha and Beta females aren’t in terribly short supply. You, little Omega, are unique. Don’t let him forget that.”

“I don’t know if I want to say yes,” she admitted. “He scares me.”

Sherry nodded. “He should. He’s dangerous. But if you’re his, he’ll put that toward making sure you’re safe. And he’s good to us.”

“As long as you obey him?” Olivia let a little sourness creep into her voice.

“Well,” Sherry sighed. “I won’t deny that he likes being in charge. He likes people to be afraid of him, he likes people to obey him, and yes, he likes having a harem of wives. But,” she tapped the tip of Olivia’s nose with a long, elegant finger. “He’s good to us. And he’s not usually very hard on his wives.”

She thought about responding to the ‘very hard’ part, but chose not to. Sherry was being kind to her, and she didn’t want to seem ungrateful. Even so she couldn’t help but muse that even a gilded cage was still a prison. Then again, what alternative was there?

“Hey,” Sherry’s voice cut into her thoughts. Olivia looked up, and the other woman smiled. “Cheer up, sweetie. You’re going to be fine, I promise.”

Olivia nodded, giving her a small smile. “Thanks,” she said softly.

“Now, I’m going to get you some fresh clothes, and we’ll find you some things for a nice bath. That’s generally warmer than a shower around here.” She winked. “You say yes to Negan and sometimes he lets you use his bathroom. He usually has hot water.”

Of course he did. Rather than say anything, Olivia just nodded again.

Sherry ruffled her hair. “Sit tight. I’ll be back in a few.”

Olivia sat down on the bed once Sherry had gone, not sure what else to do. Any belongings she had were left back with her old community, so there was nothing to put away. Nothing to rearrange. Biting her lip, she pulled her knees to her chest, feeling alone.

It was better than being with Kevin, she reminded herself. At least Negan gave her a little bit of choice. And, if she were to believe him, safety. When Kevin found out she was an Omega, it was almost as though dollar signs lit up in his eyes. She’d ceased to be a person, and had become a bargaining chip. Chattel. She wasn’t sure if it was better than him claiming her or not. In her situation it seemed likely that in the end Negan would end up knotting and mating her. Sherry had been reassuring, so maybe--just maybe-- he wouldn’t be cruel. But she’d had more than enough of Alphas who wanted more than she was willing to give. It seemed almost inevitable that most of them wound up violent.

She might have ended up brooding until Sherry returned, if there hadn’t been a knock on her door. She approached cautiously, afraid it was going to be Amber back to torment her. Instead, it was the woman Negan had introduced as Frankie.

The other redhead smiled. “Hi,” she said.

“H-hello?” Olivia still felt more than a little nervous. She didn’t want to alienate her suite-mates (other than Amber), but she didn’t know what the other woman could want.

Frankie seemed fairly relaxed, however. Her smile only widened, crinkling her nose. “Hey, sorry if you want to be alone,” she said. “I just wanted to say a proper hello. Sherry kinda tucked you under her wing and ran off with you.” She giggled softly. “She does that.” Frankie put out a hand. “I’m Frankie. The other ginger,” she said drily.

Her charm was disarming, and Olivia smiled, taking her hand. “Olivia. The Omega. Since that seems to be my claim to fame.”

Frankie nodded, almost eagerly. “Yeah. So I heard from Amber’s bitching.” She leaned against the doorjamb. “So, sorry about that. Amber…” She shook her head. “She’s kinda a trainwreck. The whole apocalypse thing fucked her up. Try not to pay her any mind.”

Olivia shrugged. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

“Good call,” the other redhead chuckled. “Anyhow, look, I did want to let you know I used to be a massage therapist. And we took classes on Omegas in heat. So if you need some help once that rolls around, and you’re not a new wife…” she trailed off, glancing over with narrowed eyes.

Olivia frowned slightly. The offer was a good one. Perhaps a little too good, now that the world had ended. No one did things as favors anymore. She hesitated. “In exchange for what?” she asked, cautiously.

“Nothing much,” Frankie said earnestly. “I didn’t really mean it like a Godfather favor or anything.” Her cheeks turned pink as she looked down. “Just, you know. More an open-ended thing. Like watching each other’s backs and helping each other out if we need it.”

“I can’t tell if you’re flirting with me or trying to ask for an alibi,” Olivia said after a moment.

Frankie laughed. “You’re so suspicious. I’m just trying to be friendly. We’re all in here together so helping each other out is for the best, you know?”

Olivia relaxed a little, chuckling. “Yeah… sorry. It’s been rough for a while. It’s hard to trust anyone. Even a Beta female.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Frankie said softly. “You’re lucky you made it this long without something awful happening.”

She couldn’t quite meet the other woman’s eyes. “Plenty awful happened,” she said. “But I didn’t get killed or forced into mating. So there’s that.”

Frankie nodded. “That’s good, hon,” she said gently. “And you’re safe now. Nobody’s going to cross Negan. Even if you aren’t a wife.”

“That’s what I keep hearing,” she replied, sighing.

“God, you too?” Amber’s sneering voice made Frankie turn. The blonde was standing in the hallway, arms crossed. She wrinkled her nose. “She’s short and weak and she stinks,” she continued. “And she’s only here because Negan wants to knot her.”

This time there was no Alpha to hold her back. Olivia growled. “You spend weeks in the woods and see how nice you smell,” she shot back. “And keep running your mouth and we’ll see who’s weak.” She chose to ignore the last part of Amber’s commentary. That, at least, she was pretty sure was right.

“Amber, having someone new here doesn’t mean there’s going to be less goodies for you,” Frankie cut in, her voice reasonable. “Olivia’s going to be working, so she’s not going to be taking anything meant for you anyway.” She arched an eyebrow. “And I don’t see why you’re acting so jealous. It’s not like you care if Negan sleeps with you or not.”

Amber sniffed, turning her nose up. “I don’t care if he’s panting after some Omega bitch. I just don’t think she should be here smelling up the place and getting a free ride. She ought to be out there with the rest of the workers if she thinks she’s too good to be a wife.”

Olivia’s nails bit into her palms. “I don’t think I’m ‘too good’,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

Frankie laid a hand on Olivia’s shoulder. “It’s different for Omegas than us Betas, you know that… It’s not something she can take back later…”

“So? Why’s she got to be here while she’s mulling it over?” Amber sneered.

“Because Negan said so.” Sherry’s voice cut through whatever Amber would have said next. She strode up the hall, a cloth tote slung over one shoulder, her expression hard. “That’s all you need to know, Amber. If you don’t like it, I’m sure you could take it up with him.”

Amber flinched at the suggestion. She cast a dirty look at Olivia, and tossed her hair. “Whatever,” she growled, stalking off to another room and slamming the door behind her.

Sherry sighed, rolling her eyes. “That woman has a real attitude problem,” she said. She smiled at Frankie. “Hope everyone else was getting along.”

Frankie grinned. “Yeah, so far so good,” she said, and patted Olivia’s shoulder. “I’ll leave you with the mother hen, but I’ll see you around later,” she said.

Olivia couldn’t help but chuckle, waving at Frankie headed back to the lounge.

Sherry passed her the bag. “I found you some clothes, and some soap and shampoo. Go ahead and get washed up, dinner should be here before too long.”

The bathroom Sherry showed her to was fairly spacious, and already stocked with towels. As she’d been warned, the water was on the tepid side, but she didn’t much care. It was the first time she’d had warm water and soap in so long she’d almost forgotten what it felt like.

Olivia scrubbed every inch of her skin, washed her hair, and luxuriated in the feeling of being clean. She felt much less self-conscious once she had washed up and put on fresh clothes. She thought most of what she had on was probably a loss, discolored by ground-in dirt and sweat and even blood. Even so, she bundled them together in the hopes that she might get them washed.

In the mirror she examined herself, frowning at her visible ribs and spine, and jutting hip bones. She might not have lasted long if she hadn’t wound up with a group. Still, the bruising across her back, ugly blue and purple stripes, reminded her she might not have lasted long with one either. Negan at least seemed like he’d be… well, perhaps not kind, but so far not abusive. And he’d been right; Sherry seemed like she would be in Olivia’s corner.

She chose a pair of soft drawstring pants and a tee shirt with a cartoon cat on it. The clothes were comfortable, if a bit large on her. Soon she was dressed and feeling better than she had in months. Her belly growled, and she remembered that Negan had promised food. Quickly stashing her new clothes in her new room, she headed down the hall.

Olivia could hear him before she got to the lounge. The baritone laugh carried down the hallway, along with the scent of something delicious. Despite her hunger, she approached cautiously, peering into the room from the doorway before she let her presence be known.

Negan sat on the couch, one arm thrown around Frankie’s shoulders. He’d left his leather jacket behind, still wearing that white tee that clung so enticingly to his chest. Lucille, the barbed-wire wrapped weapon, leaned against the wall next to the door. Even with his wives, he apparently didn’t go unarmed.

The other wives sat in chairs or at the bar with plates of food. Olivia’s jaw almost dropped as she finally recognized the smell of tomato sauce and realized Negan had brought honest-to-god spaghetti.

Negan paused, a beer bottle halfway to his lips, and his nostrils flared. He turned his head, dark eyes catching her, and grinned widely. “Well, hey there. No need to be shy, sweet thing. Come eat. You must be hungry.” He indicated the empty spot on the couch beside him. “I saved you a seat.”

She might have balked at his presumption, but she was hungry. She padded in, avoiding looking at Amber. Negan leaned down, opening the containers on the coffee table, and portioning a small serving of pasta and sauce onto a plate.

“I know you probably ain’t been fucking fed right for a while,” he said as she sank to the couch beside him. He handed her the plate and a fork with a smile. “So start with that. If you’re still hungry we can try a little more, but don’t eat yourself sick.”

She nodded, almost nervous that she would drop the plate. “Thank you,” she said softly.

Negan’s grin was toothy. “You’re welcome,” he paused, dark eyes dropping to her shirt, “Kitten,” he said, his voice a low and almost sensual rumble. He chuckled as her cheeks grew warm.

Olivia ducked her head and concentrated on her food so that she wouldn’t have to look at the large Alpha next to her. It took an effort to keep from wolfing her food down. After subsisting on canned food and foraging for so long, pasta that had actually been boiled, and sauce that was cooked tasted like heaven.

Sherry chuckled softly. “As I was saying, Negan, Olivia is settling in fine. I think you should let her rest a day or two before you put her to work, though.”

Olivia looked up, swallowing a mouthful of noodles. “N-no, I’ll be fine,” she protested. “I have to start earning points.”

Negan laughed again. “Well, you were right, Sherry, I owe you a beer,” he said. He looked over at Olivia with a smirk. “She said you’d say that. Don’t worry so much, Kitten. You can afford to coast a day or two.”

He gave her a teasing swat on the back. It wasn’t hard, by any means, nor was it malicious. It wouldn’t have hurt if she wasn’t covered in bruises.

Olivia flinched, as much in fear as pain, hunching her shoulders and yelping. She managed not to spill her plate, and managed to keep her seat. Negan froze, eyes widening in surprise. Then they narrowed, a dark fire behind them.

Sherry sat forward, putting her plate down. “Livvy, you okay?” she asked quickly.

Olivia made herself straighten up, forced a smile. She avoided looking at Negan directly. “Y-yeah. I’m okay. Sorry. Just a little sore.”

Negan’s mood never quite made it back to relaxed and jovial the rest of the meal. He smiled at their conversations, chuckled at Sherry’s jokes, pulled Frankie to his side teasingly. But something clearly stuck in his craw.

Olivia was afraid it was her. Negan didn’t try to touch her again, and when she emptied her first plate he was quite solicitous about being certain she got enough. He included her in the conversation, never probing too deeply, not mentioning her earlier reaction. Even so, she could feel the weight of his gaze on her.

Despite her worries, the time passed quickly, and soon enough she was yawning. Sherry chuckled.

“Come on, Liv. Let’s get you to bed,” she said.

Negan waved for her to stay. “I got it,” he said. He stood, holding a hand out to Olivia. “Come on, Kitten. I’ll tuck you in.”

She wanted to object. She knew the way back to her room, and she certainly didn’t need him to tuck anything in. But the heaviness of his dark eyes told her that he wasn’t asking. Swallowing, she took his hand and let him walk her down the hall.

Tagging:   @noodlecupcakes @glittered-unicorn-lava@genevievedarcygranger@adair-donovan @feistybaby @negans-network @ask-kakashihatake @haleyea @collette04

[richiefuckfacetozier]

Hey, you asked me to send my request to this blog for the one shots of Reddie's first dates from the Losers club chats (the one at the quarry and the one at Swirl World), so here it is! Thank you so much for saying yes, I can't wait to read them, again, you're amazing😊

Here is part 1 of your request! Sorry it has taken so long. I was trying to write in first person for a change of pace, but it was hard since I haven’t really done it before. I hope you like it!

Not A Date vs A Date

By @thetheatregal and @sam-i-am2468

Based off this text chat from our side blog @wearethelosersclub

Part 1: Not A Date - Eddie Kaspbrak POV

I knew this was not a real date. Something I had to keep reminding myself over and over. That didn’t stop me from staying up half the night worrying about it. Trying to calm my thoughts but tossing and turning instead. Now I had 45 minutes to kill because it also didn’t prevent me from getting ready way too early to make sure everything was perfect.

I steadied myself in the mirror, flattening my hair and straightening my polo shirt thinking about how I got myself into this “date” situation. You see, after having a huge fight with my best friend, Richie, about a guy who had asked me out. He wanted to make it up to me.

So he told me…we should go on a date.

I was not sure what to think when he suggested it and I’m sure he didn’t realize the complete mess he turned me into. I was fairly certain my brain stopped working for a solid hour before I agreed to do it. He was probably joking and being his flirty Trashmouth self, but the longer I thought about the idea of my first date being with my best friend, it sounded perfect.

Not to mention I am completely and utterly in love with him. How could this possibly be a bad idea?

I spent the 45 minutes I had until Richie came to pack a picnic basket I made. Then I unpacked it then packed it again with food we both love: roast beef sandwiches, chips, pesto pasta, sodas, a canister of hot chocolate, brownies, and an assortment of candy. The candy was mostly for my sugar toothed date.

Ugh…but it’s not a real dateeee.

Richie drove up to my house right on time and I dashed out before my mom could ask any questions. He smiled broadly as I hopped in the front seat. He looked effortlessly attractive with his messy black hair and big adorable red glasses. It is honestly unfair to my heart. He handed me the blankets he brought to keep us warm and his portable CD player. Then drove us to our NOT date and we caught up on everything.

We actually had a lot to catch up on because our fight lasted 3 days.

3 miserable as fuck days. I spent the first in my room pretending to be sick, crying a lot and wishing Richie would text me. He had sent a slew of messages yelling at me and saying I deserved better than the guy who asked me out. I was SO confused. It was unclear if he was trying to protect me as a friend or…something more.

The second day consisted of more moping, watching sad movies, eating all the ice cream in the fridge, and re-reading the horrible texts until they were permanently ingrained in my brain.

The third day, Bill forced his way over. He brought me more ice cream, bless his heart, and we watched The Notebook. I’m a cliché, I know. When we finally got around to talking about how Richie and I were going to make up and stop fighting, I was adamant about it not being my responsibility.

“He yelled at me.” I said to Bill in frustration. “I shouldn’t have to text him. He wants to be a dick? Fine. Let him live up to his name.” I remember feeling so mad that my hands were shaking.

“Eddie, I know you are st-stubborn but just text him.” Bill pleaded.

“No.”

“Do it for the Losers?” He coaxed.

“No, fuck you all.” I was in fine form that day.

“Wow, ok.” Bill stayed silent contemplating a new tactic. “You cuh-could give him your secret Santa gift?”

“Why?” I eyed him suspiciously.

“Peace offering wuh-without having to say a wuh-word.”

I considered it bitterly. He was right. I could leave the gift at Richie’s house and not bother with talking. I did want to give it to him. It was a mix CD of songs that remind me of us. “Alright, but you have to bring it to his house.” I pointed at his chest aggressively. “I’m not leaving and it is your idea.”

I crossed my arms petulantly and he frowned, “You’re such a baby.”

I wish I was Richie’s baby. Yikes. Where did that thought come from? I glanced back at Bill who was giving me an odd stare, so I stuck my tongue out and claimed I didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

Anyway, it all worked out. We forgave each other. Things are fine.

And now we are on a date.

A “not date” date. Though I wished it was real because Richie is so hot, and he was right, going on a date with someone you like is way better than wasting it on someone who you think is nice. Even though my hands were sweaty, the butterflies were killing me and I almost passed out. It’s not a real date, get that in your head.

We went to the quarry for our NOT date, which was my idea because that’s where Bill introduced us. It’s where we became friends. We spent some of the best summers of our lives messing around and having a blast.

Which meant it was about as romantic a gesture as I could think of to make.

As adorable as my idea was, actually eating by a lake in December in Maine was a MISTAKE. I wrapped myself in four layers of clothing and still could not handle the cold. I shivered from head to foot. Every time I spoke, my teeth chattered and Richie would laugh.

“Sto-o-op fu-fucking laughin’!” I complained.

“He speaks! You’ve barely said anything since we got here.” Richie chuckled as he placed another blanket around me.

“I’m c-cold. It’s hard.” I responded anxiously.

“I wish I was hard.” Richie wiggled his eyebrows in that annoying way he does.

“Beep Beep.” I was not silent because of the cold. I was silent because I was so nervous my mind could not think straight.

Not that I ever think straight around Richie anyway.

We ate our sandwiches and Richie talked extra admittedly about something that happened with him and Stanley. I was busy watching his lips move and wishing I could kiss them.

Except THIS IS NOT A DATE.

Fuck, I wish this was a date.

There is this way Richie speaks to me, which is completely unique to our relationship. He checks my eyes making sure I am focused on every detail of his story. He usually wraps his arms around my shoulders or hooks his arm with mine so that my attention is constantly on him. He will make crude comments to get me to talk to him. Even when we are in a group, it always feels like every word is directed at me.

Maybe that’s my wishful thinking.

I also think he worries that I will get tired of him. I don’t see that ever happening. If anything, I am obsessed with him in every way. I love the sweet way he pushes his hair out of his glasses. Speaking of his glasses, sometimes I keep track of how many times he adjusts them on his face. He is at 11 times for today. I adore how he cannot walk straight to save his life and is extremely clumsy. I appreciate how easy it is to talk to him about anything and everything. I never feel judged for something I say. I always breathe a little easier when he is near me.

“Why didn’t you wear gloves? Eds, you are usually so careful about that.” Richie looked ready to grab my hands and warm them up but he held himself back.

Damn him. I purposely didn’t wear gloves so he would hold my hands, but of course…this isn’t a date so I shouldn’t be so desperate.

When he’s around, I always gravitate toward him craving his nearness. Richie’s the only person who I would honestly beg to just touch me. Any time he does, I pretend to be annoyed but usually lean in closer. Sometimes, he will hold my hand then swing it back and forth. If he tries to pull away I squeeze his palm without looking at him, so he will let his hand linger longer. I have been in an incredible amount of denial about how I felt for him for so long that I swear I don’t know how to act around him anymore.

At some point, Richie turned his CD player on. He skipped through a bunch of tracks to whatever CD was in there then let it play. I took a sip of the soda I was drinking then immediately spat it out. I started choking as Take My Breath Away played through the speakers. He patted my back and I put up a hand to signal I was alright.

I most certainly was not alright.

“We don’t need to listen to my mix CD for you.” I said hurriedly reaching over to turn it off. Richie grabbed my arms and pushed me back into my spot.

“I love this mix.” Richie grinned still holding my arms. I felt my cheeks heat up from the contact. His face was really close to mine. His eyes seemed to consider whether to kiss me as they flickered to my lips. He even leaned in a little more and his warm breath hit my face. I didn’t move because I was too focused on slowing down my pounding heart. Instead of kissing me, he reluctantly let go of my arms and sat back.

Guess he doesn’t want to kiss me.

Fuck my life.

The beginning of the mix CD was friendship songs but about halfway through were only love songs. Guess where Richie started the mix at? THE LOVE SONGS. He is a monster. As each love song played, I internally screamed at myself for how obvious and pathetic I am.

I waited for Richie to make fun of me for it but he didn’t comment on me being hopelessly in love with him. Instead, he mentioned how Ed Sheeran’s Perfect Duet was his favorite on the track. I put that song on because it basically described our entire relationship. Not that I would say that aloud.

The chords of the next song started to play. “This is my favorite.” I said quietly.

“Yeah? Elvis Presley? He was the King of sex and roll.” Richie smirked at me.

“I think you mean ROCK and roll.” I grumbled but smiled despite myself.

Richie barked out a laugh. “Then I will take the title, King of sex.” I don’t even want to talk about how much that line made my body heat up. Who needs four layers of clothes and two blankets when you have Richie fucking Tozier blatantly flirting with you?

Wise men say only fools rush in

Hello wise men, my name is Eddie fool Kaspbrak.

But I can’t help falling in love with you…

I wish Richie would stop staring so intently at the side of my face. I can feel myself fidgeting under his gaze.  

Shall I stay? Would it be a sin?

My mother would certainly think so. Gross, can I not think about my mother right now?

If I can’t help falling in love with you?

This song alone should have convinced Richie that I want something real.

Like a river flows surely to the sea

Darling so it goes s ome things are meant to be…

I believe we are meant to be. I wonder if he feels the same.

Take my hand, take my whole life too…

I was hyper-aware of how close Richie’s hand was to mine. There was roughly a half inch space between our pinkies.

For I can’t help falling in love with you…

Ain’t that the fucking truth.

Like a river flows surely to the sea

Darling so it goes…

He is such an idiot, who would not hold my hand during our not real date.

Some things are meant to be…

Just as I was ready to give up hope and put my hand in my lap, Richie grabbed a hold of it as Elvis sang:

Take my hand, take my whole life too

For I can’t help falling in love with you…

Richie’s calloused hands felt strong and confident against my soft ones. He entwined our fingers together slowly. I peeked at him and he was smiling to himself.

For I can’t help falling in love with you.

I truly can’t help it.

We parked outside my house for a bit before I went inside just talking. As the last bit of the conversation died, I can’t even remember what we were talking about, the atmosphere in the car changed. It was a moment where my body was asking for one thing but then my brain was saying what are you doing just say thank you and goodnight. I didn’t want to say thank you and good night. I wanted to tell him how much I craved for us to do this again but for real. I wanted to hold his hand and tell him he is an idiot but at least he is my idiot. I glanced over at Richie, who seemed to be waiting for something. I wondered in that moment how long a person could stare at another before it became uncomfortable.

I kept telling myself to stop staring and say something because I look like an idiot and I am probably freaking him out.

“Well thanks, as far as a first date goes it was far from ideal,” I watched as Richie began to frown, so I quickly waved my arms letting him know I wasn’t done. “What I mean is, if it was with anyone else I probably would be complaining about it to the group now but with you…with you we could have been anywhere and it would be perfect.”

“Damn Eddie, I think that was the nicest thing you ever said to me.”

“Yeah well…don’t get used to it,” I smiled as the dufus gave me the biggest grin in return.

Ugh, why don’t you love me?

“Thanks, Rich, goodnight.”

Quickly, I got out the car because I really didn’t know what else to say. We had been parked outside for a while and I wouldn’t want Ma to come out to check on what was happening and anyway I didn’t want things to get awkward. Where neither of us knew what to say and then I panic and get weird.

Walking up to my front door, I heard Richie’s car door slam and I turned to see what was wrong. He came running up to me and before I could open my mouth his lips were on mine.

He fucking kissed me!

It was short, okay maybe more of a brush of the lips but still. My heart raced, I got these dumb butterflies and literally my brain shut down.

When Richie pulled back, I could see that stupid smug grin on his face as he soaked up my reaction. I’m sure I looked like a deer caught in headlights but honestly, if you asked me my name right then I probably would not be able to answer.

“First dates are important but so are first kisses. Thought you deserved one from someone important too. You’re very welcome Eddie.” he said bowing as if he just performed his greatest performance.

So, of course, I did the only thing that my brain would allow me. I punched him in the stomach, causing him to stumble back ever so slightly as he grunted. I turned on my heel muttered ‘asshole’ and walked inside. See what I mean? I panicked and got weird.

I couldn’t help but turn back and watch as he walked to his car, with a little pep in his step. Clearly, that ruined nothing and I laughed thinking back to that dumb little kiss.

As far as not dates go, it was incredible.

Reddie tag list: @ohheydatsme @slashpalooza @sammy8675309  

(@reddie-brasil you didn’t ask to be on this but i love ya)