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justjessame · 4 years

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A Little Ass and A Lotta Sass Chapter 33: Loosey Goosey? Shower Time and the Quest to Make Negan See That Babies Don't Need Added Incentive to Be Assholes.

We woke up early with our little princess the next morning. While I sat at the table, giving her breakfast, Negan made the two of us ours. He was whistling as he cooked, and I was shaking my head at how completely carefree he looked and sounded. Mornings, without the distraction of reminding me how worthwhile being awake was, tended to drag by for me. But for my husband? It was like he hit reset and was raring to go.

He set my plate down in front of me as my little Pooh Bear finished hers. He held his hands out with a huge smile and took her from me. Letting me tuck into my meal as he took his time to coax a burp out of her tiny mouth and took care of her spit up like he’d been doing it all his life. Then after a bit of a cuddle, he lay her down in her bassinet, and she didn’t let out a peep of frustration.

Negan looked at me in surprise and I smiled around the bite I’d just taken. Told ya so, ran through my mind as he grabbed his own plate and joined me. He smiled at me as he started to eat and I felt a clench low in my belly. I knew that smile. I knew the darkening in his eyes. Fuck. He was VERY hungry, and I had no doubt that his breakfast wasn’t going to be nearly filling enough for him.

“We’ll head down to the infirmary after our shower.” Our shower? Dear fucking Lord. We hadn’t showered together since we brought our angel home. One stayed dry while the other showered with her, then we’d hand off. Fuck.

I glanced over at the bassinet, wondering if I could cock block my own husband with our infant daughter.

“We can give her a bath in the sink first.” Shit. He really could read my damn mind. “What’s wrong, baby girl, scared?”

More like horrified to find out what damage your little girl caused when she came clawing out of me. “Of course not,” I answered, pushing my plate away. “It’s just that, why rush? I mean, we almost ignite when we don’t give in.” I sounded off to myself. “Why get all hot and bothered before we get Dr. Carson’s OK?”

Negan studied me while he ate. And I worked damn hard to not fidget. When he took a drink, his plate finally completely cleared, he stood up and took our plates to the sink. Quiet. He was too fucking quiet. Then, without a word to me, he picked up the baby and crooked his finger to me as he walked back to our bathroom. I closed my eyes to steel myself and followed.

He didn’t speak as he handed her to me in the bathroom. He didn’t say a word as he gathered together her bathing stuff. He didn’t open his mouth while he filled the sink with warm water. He just glanced at me, holding our daughter and raised his eyebrow. Shit, I’d been standing there gaping. I undressed Jade, taking off her still clean diaper and walking closer to Negan. Together we washed our little one, making sure that she was clean and sweet smelling before he wrapped her in her towel and I grabbed the diaper and outfit we’d laid out for her. She was dried by Daddy, and then clothed by Mommy. And her tiny eyes were drooping by the time we finished. Fuck. What a traitor.

“I’m going to bring her bassinet in here, and then we’re taking our shower, Callie.” His voice took on that low darkness that did things to my body, and I felt like I was breathing heavy already.

It felt like my arms were empty of her weight and I was naked before I could add two plus two. And then he was pulling me into our shower, and the warm water was sliding down over me. “Open your eyes, princess.” I did as he tilted my face up to look into his. “Fuck you’re beautiful.” I doubted this. I still had plenty of padding left over from my pregnancy, and I was almost scared to even contemplate what my breasts looked like now that they were basically udders. I didn’t have a chance to voice my doubts because his mouth met mine and I sighed into the feeling.

We’d kissed since bringing Kiara home. Of course we had, but there was always a tint of exhaustion. A bit of a yawn shared between us, but this kiss? This kiss reminded me of all the ways we were combustible. I felt the fire build, running down my entire body and then I was flush against him. Our skin finally touches without a barrier, without our little one between us. And I couldn’t recall why I hadn’t wanted this, to be with him here, in our shower. Returning to our daily routine right now, with his mouth, his tongue reminding me that we were still partners. We were most definitely lovers.

I felt his hands, which had rested on my hips after pulling us tight together, start to tour my body. And then, as his fingers found their way between my legs, a flash reminded me exactly why I had fought against this. He felt me tense up and he pulled his mouth from mine with a question in his eyes. Shit.

How do you tell your husband, the love of your life, the man who you’d die to touch, that you were scared that his offspring may have completely ruined your fucking nether regions? And, if she had, you’d rather fucking die than him touch you and find out, and then the full on repulsion flash on his face and making you die inside?

“Callie, baby what’s wrong?” His voice was so fucking husky still, from his very fucking evident need that was trapped between us. “Sweetheart,” he tilted my head up when I looked down. “Tell me.”

Well, shit. I sighed, and felt tears come to my eyes. What the literal hell? Why the fuck was I so emotional right now? The demon spawn was out of me, so my hormones should be under my own fucking control now. And then it happened. I sobbed and spilled my guts.

Most people who know of, or even who’ve met Negan would assume he’s terrible with emotional and crying women. Well, not so. At least he wasn’t with me. He cradled my body against him as I fucking shared everything. Every fear, every worry. And he held me, listened as I unleashed a torrent of worry, and didn’t interrupt me once.

Once my verbal vomit was over, he was still holding me. He’d turned the water off and he pulled me out of the shower and wrapped me up in a towel. Donning one around his own waist, he scooped me into his arms and carried me back to our bed. Pushing the bassinet just outside the bathroom door. “Negan, you’re going to get the bed all wet,” I warned, when he placed me in the center.

“Do I look like I fucking care about the bed getting wet?” He’d joined me, curving into my side, as I normally did to him. “Why didn’t you tell me, Callie? When you first started worrying?”

I shrugged. “I didn’t want to think about it.” That was more than true. Who wants to imagine that the man they love would end up repulsed by their body after giving birth? No one. “I mean the doctor had to STITCH me up. Doesn’t that fucking scream it’s destroyed? How did her tiny little head rip me?” I rolled my eyes. “Not to mention that I’m fat. I’m still all bloated and gross, and I can’t even fucking believe that you’d WANT to see me naked.”

Negan’s fingers were tracing my face, like he was worshiping my skin. They were creeping down to the towel wrapped around me as his eyes locked on mine. “First of all, Callie, there’s no fucking way that any part of you has been rendered fucking hideous or un-fucking-sexy.” He bit his lip as his eyes roamed down over my towel covered body. “Every single damn inch of you is perfect.” I opened my mouth, but he silenced me with a look. “I mean it. This body,” he pulled open my towel and ran his hand down my length. “This fucking body gave me the greatest goddamn gift I never knew I wanted. It carried our baby, Callie. And you brought her into this fucking world.” He shook his head as though he was in awe of me. He lowered his head and nuzzled into my neck. “I love you, Callie. I love your body. And there’s no fucking way that that’s changed. It never will.”

And then he put actions to his words and used that mouth of his to prove it.

We made it down to the infirmary after Negan had thoroughly educated me on just how much he still loved my body. Inch by inch of me. Kiara had to be fed again before we left, since her daddy had been a thorough teacher. And then we walked down together, outside of our apartment. I carried KJ. Negan carried Lucille. And we were flanked by two of the most badass looking fairy godmothers I’d ever seen.

The check up went well. I was healed, the stitches had done their job. And our little angel was perfect. As though we had any doubts about that. When we were finished, I was surprised when Negan announced he wanted to take a walk around the Sanctuary. I shrugged and was about to go back to our apartment with Laura. “Princess, I want US to take a walk around.” I wanted so badly to roll my eyes. Jesus, he wanted to show her off. Fucking braggart.

“You aren’t making them kneel to her, Negan.” I said, staring up into his face. “I mean it. The terrible fucking twos are going to be nightmarish enough, let’s not add to her douche baggery too soon, alright?”

I saw a pout cross his face. I fucking knew it. “Fine.” He gritted out. “I mean she’s MY daughter, and they’re MY people, but fine. I won’t have them kneel for her.” And I swear to Christ, I heard him mutter, “Yet.”

#negan x ofc #The Walking Dead #Smut

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darylandbethfanforever9 · 4 years

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Downfall Of Us All: Chapter 14

Downfall of Us All

Chapter 14

AN: I hope everyone is alright, and staying safe. This chapter is full of angst and sadness.

Warnings: Child loss, grief and depression

Grace was busy making the coffee buttercream for Tony's dark chocolate and coffee cake, she'd just finished making the sugar glass Iron Man for him. The chocolate cake was baking in the oven, giving her and Sophie time to get the decorations done. Tony had done so much for them and was trying to help her find Zach. And this was she was keeping herself busy, she knew deep down that her son was dead but a part of her was in denial. She didn't want to believe that her son was dead. She was just hoping for a miracle, Clint came over quietly and she smiled at him as they started writing Iron Man on the cake. "I know it's been two years, I know Zach might be gone but am I stupid for trying to keep faith?" She asked quietly, Clint was silent as he looked at her quietly. "No, I don't think you're stupid. I think it's good that you're open minded, and not giving up," Clint said finally, if he was in Grace's position, he'd never give up. Grace nodded in thanks and watched as Sophie took the cake out of the oven. She then carefully put it down to cool.

With patient twenty-five and patient twenty-seven successfully impregnated, Dr Rodchenko had focused the attention on Darcy Lewis. She'd attempted to escape twice, and Rumlow always had like a fight.

"Miss Lewis, do you really think Miss Potts and Dr Foster want to abort their babies?" He asked calmly, looking at the girl who was tied down to the bed. She had an IV and the Extrimis serum pumping into her veins, she was glaring at him. Rumlow would enjoy her. "They're not babies, they're......things born out of rape!" Darcy screamed enraged, and he narrowed his eyes at the insolent, pathetic girl in front of him. "I had hoped you'd listen Miss Lewis. However, it seems, you are too stubborn to realise the good you will do by carrying the new generation of HYDRA," Rodchenko said disappointed, and nodded at the hidden camera.

Darcy didn't want kids, she never wanted them and the fact that Jane along with Pepper had quickly given up was unbelievable. This was forced impregnating, these bastards were forcing to have babies. She said nothing as Laura entered and calmly injected her with something, she didn't feel anything for a minute. But then a burning sensation was ripping through her, as she saw a handsome man with dark brown hair. His eyes were cruel and looked excited, he strolled over and very firmly gripped her face. "You're not killing our babies, bitch. They're gonna bring down our enemies, and you're not doing a botched abortion." He growled menacingly, cupping her right breasts with his right hand. Darcy whimpered, maybe if she made out she liked his sadistic sexual fantasies, he'd let her go. Hell, she'd bring him the woman he was obsessed about.

"Harder," Darcy whispered. Rumlow quirked an eyebrow at her. "This is new." "I've always enjoyed it," Darcy said flippantly. "I'm just tired of pretending I don't. It's getting old." Rumlow chuckled at that. "You're not playing a game with me, are you little girl?" Ah, Darcy thought. Is that what he likes? "What do you want me to be, handsome? Your little? Your baby girl?" Darcy asked cautiously. Rumlow slid his hand down to the hem of her gown, back up to her breast under it. "Not from you." "From her," Darcy said quietly. "Your blonde girl. What's her name again?" "Grace," he said tightly. "Grace," Darcy said with enthusiasm. "It's a beautiful name. I'm not half the woman she is…" "You're not," Rumlow muttered, his other hand cupping his erection. "I could help you get her back," Darcy teased, pressing her breast further into his hand. "I haven't met her, so they'd never suspect me of anything. Especially if I were a poor rescued, traumatized survivor. Think about it. They'd be so busy trying to take care of me, I could pretty much do what I wanted." His hand stopped moving. She could see in his face he was thinking about what she was saying, considering it. "Yeah, and how would you secure her for me?" "However, you want me to," Darcy went on. "You want her, not me. I get her for you, everyone gets what they want." "Or," Rumlow continued, "I keep her, and you and we have more HYDRA agents. What do you think of that?" "You want a HYDRA agent with my personality traits? I don't think so," Darcy explained. "I don't follow orders. I don't play well with others. How would any child of mine work out for what you guys want." Rumlow's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Because we could brainwash the little bastard into doing what we want if he doesn't comply."

Don't let him rattle you, Darce. Keep your composure. "Did she give you children?" "Yes," Rumlow's movements stopped at that. "It was a boy." "What happened?" Darcy wanted to keep him talking. Talking wasn't rape. Talking wasn’t being impregnated. "She had a son," Rumlow explained. "Named him Zach. Raised him even though she conceived him the same way you will conceive yours. I guess in some perverted way I loved her for that. Fucking S.H.I.E.L.D. took him." Darcy frowned. "What do you mean S.H.I.E.L.D. took him?" Rumlow's laugh was cold. "Fucking Ross came and had him taken away from her. It was cold as shit, especially when they run around calling themselves the good guys." Her heart clenched in her chest. Jesus, what did Ross do? "What happened to him then?" Darcy asked intrigued by the story, she wanted to know what had happened. His expression darkened. "They… You know what? Why am I talking to you? Stupid bitch." Darcy hissed in pain when he backhanded her, putting his strength into it. "I see what you're doing. It won't work. You should be grateful. You're not a Pepper Potts. You're not an astrophysicist. You're nothing. When you get knocked up with my kid from HYDRA, then you have something to be proud of. Until then…" Rumlow hopped up on the bed then, ripping away her clothes and his while Darcy screamed.

She didn't want this, she didn't want to be used as a broodmare for HYDRA, she wanted things to be normal. She blamed Jane for this, not admitting that she'd caused this by hacking into the old Soviet files.

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The team had arrived back from the bakery, after Sophie and Grace had taken cake orders from regular and old customers. One customer had asked if they could do an Avengers themed birthday cake, for her seven-year-old twin boys.

The flavour was a chocolate cake with salted caramel, and chocolate buttercream. They'd just finished the cake for Saturday, and just needed to finish the decorations. Grace smiled at Tom who meowed, and she fed him, before scratching him behind the ears. Lucky, Clint's golden one-eyed Labrador was happily eating his dog food. She smiled at Clint who smiled back, as it was Tony's turn to cook dinner tonight. He was cooking Italian pasta, with beef meatballs and for dessert was tiramisu. Lilia was helping, and she had her dark mahogany hair pulled up into a fishtail plait. She was wearing a black pencil skirt, with a white shirt.

She couldn't help but feel safe here, as she finished the sugar glass pieces, and let them cool overnight. She was now going to take a shower, and then look for information on her son. She wouldn't give up on him.

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"You're absolutely sure it's this place, Mack?" Coulson asked urgently, the man nodded as they overlooked a mass grave that had been discovered. "Positive, we better alert the Avengers, and Miss Drăgoi." May said quietly, overlooking the mass grave that had been located in Siberia, Russia. Diplomatic relations between Russia and America, had softened thanks to the Avengers who had exposed HYDRA agents working in the government. Coulson nodded, and looked at the lifeless body of a blonde-haired young boy, being placed gently into a body bag.

"Sir, two agents from S.H.E.I.L.D wish to speak to all of you." Jarvis announced, Tony frowned but nodded at the AI. He had a bad feeling about this. "Let them in, Jarvis." He said wearily, seeing the others looking wearily at the security footage. The two agents were let in, and Grace looked nervous. Coulson and May entered the room, and the tension in the air thickened. Clint saw Grace looked anxious, and wordlessly held her hand, and she held onto it tightly as Sophie wrapped an arm around her. "What's going on, Coulson?" Natasha asked finally, sensing that something was horribly wrong, and the agent took in a deep breath. He nodded at May, and she pulled out a dark brown teddy bear. Grace stiffened at the sight of the stuffed teddy bear, she could feel her heart pounding away in her chest. This was her son's teddy bear, Zach's favourite stuffed animal. "Where did you find that? That's my son's teddy bear?!" Grace asked fearfully, walking over and Coulson swallowed. "Our agents who were working with the Russian task force on HYDRA, discovered a mass grave in Siberia. I'm so sorry to ask this, but is this your son's teddy bear?" He asked gently. Grace swallowed but felt like she was drowning, she nodded and reached out to touch it. "Yes, it's my son's teddy bear. Where is he?!" She asked desperately, and Coulson took in a deep breath. "There's no easy way for me to say this, Miss Melnychenko Drăgoi. Your son's body was found in the mass grave," He explained quietly, and Grace went numb. Her son was dead....no, he couldn't be dead.

Clint caught Grace up in his arms before she could fall. He watched her crumble, curl in on herself. His heart ached, knowing that pain and knowing that there wasn't a damn thing he could do to fix this for her, to make it better.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Coulson," Steve was in full Cap mode. "Was it really necessary to handle it like this? With no sensitivity to Grace whatsoever?" Coulson looked horrified, being taken to task by his idol. "Sorry Captain. "We'd been tasked by Stark to see what we could find, and we wanted to let you know our findings right away. I guess I didn't…" "No, you didn't," Steve said with a scowl.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Clint had already scooped up a sobbing Grace, Sophie and Bucky on his heels as he steered them out of the living area and back to Clint's own apartment. Sinking down onto the couch with her, he just held onto her. Sophie sank onto her heels next to them, crooning and smoothing her sister's hair while tears ran down her face as well. It had been her nephew. For long moments, the only sounds in the room were the ragged sobs that tore from Grace. Sophie rose, whispering she'd be back, and dragging Bucky from the room behind her.

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Sophie couldn't breathe she was so upset. Bucky had followed her back to her room, allowing her to shut them in her bedroom so she could be confident Grace couldn't hear. "Doll, are you okay?" Bucky's expression was edged with concern. "Breathe." "I don't feel like I can breathe," she told him, barely holding herself together. "I'm so scared, Bucky." Smoothing his palm over her face, he meant to calm her, get her focused on him. "No one is going to hurt you or Grace. We won't allow it." "I'm not worried about me," Sophie told him, her voice breaking. "It's Grace. I don't know why they took Zach or why they killed him, Bucky. In time, maybe we'll find out why they did this to us. But Grace… We have to watch her, night and day, Bucky. She'll go after them. I know it. I can't lose her. She's all I have." Bucky hadn't expected them to find the boy alive. He hadn't said as much and had hoped by some miracle he was wrong. Now that he'd been found, there were questions to be answered. Somehow it didn't feel him like this was the resolution of something, but the beginning. "We'll be there for Grace," he told them. "We need to talk to Steve and Tony. There's a lot of things I'm wondering here." The pain he read on Sophie's face blended with confusion. "What questions?" "We can't assume anything," he said carefully. "We need to know who killed him and why. And some of the answers aren't going to be easy for you or Grace to hear. This is all connected somehow to Pepper's disappearance, Dr. Foster and Darcy. What happened to Grace. It's all connected. We have to find those answers. We have to stop it." Sophie nodded, trying not to lose her composure. "Okay?" He whispered. Sophie nodded before pressing herself into his arms, seeking comfort.

Bucky held her tightly, feeling her tears stain his shirt but he didn't care about that. What hurt him, was seeing Sophie cry and mourn for her beloved nephew. He kissed her forehead, holding her tightly.

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Grace didn't blame Coulson, he was only trying to be kind, but her heart felt like it had been ripped out. Her baby boy, her precious boy was dead. She clutched at Clint like he was her lifeline, he held her tightly and she felt like screaming. She felt like going on a murderous rampage and sobbed. What had her son done to deserve this? She could only imagine what those animals had done to Zach, her son must have been so frightened and alone. "He must have been so scared, Clint. And I wasn't there to keep him safe, I'm his mother and I couldn't save him." She sobbed brokenly, Clint held her tightly. "This wasn't your fault, he knew you loved him. Zach knew that you loved him, Grace," Clint said comfortingly, Grace sobbed brokenly and buried her face against where his heart was beating. He rocked her gently, singing an old lullaby that his mother would sing to him when he was upset. She held onto him tightly, as he saw Bucky and Sophie come in. Sophie nodded at him, and held Grace's hand tightly, tears sliding down her face silently. Bucky sat beside her, and his own face was saddened.

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"What the hell was Zach doing in Siberia? He wasn't dressed for that type of weather." Steve asked horrified, Zach's body was being prepared to be sent back to the states. "I think it's safe to say, that either HYDRA or someone else were experimenting on him and other children. Daisy Johnson is sending us files, and there's a link," Tony said quietly, pulling up the emails between Thaddeus Ross and Senator Ellen Nadeer. "Senator Ellen Nadeer is part of the committee that oversees the Sokovian Accords, she voted in favour of it. But, Coulson's team have linked her to the Watchdogs, Gonzalez and to Ross. She and Gonzalez were the ones that had Zach and four other children arrested and taken away." Tony said grimly, when Jemma entered. "Zach's body will be here in the morning, two Russian agents will be bringing the evidence they found. They found four other bodies, and the families are being notified." She said quietly. "It's all somehow linked to Pepper, Dr Foster, Darcy, Sophie, Natasha and Grace. Something is going on here, Tony." Bruce said gravely, when a red eyed May and Peter entered with Michelle and Ned. "Is it true, Tony?" Peter asked shakily, he'd known Zach since he was a baby. He and Ned would babysit him and play with him.

Steve was worried about Tony at this point. His friend truly looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. His dark eyes met Peter's and he nodded. Peter crumbled, and Tony pulled the young man into his arms. "I'm so sorry, kid. I really am." Meeting May's gaze above Peter's head, Tony looked so sad. "Why?" May asked, her voice breaking. "Who would do something to a little boy like that. He was… so sweet. The sweetest little boy since Peter… Why?" "I wish I knew, May," Tony told her. "But we will find out." His gaze swung to Steve who nodded. "We will get to the bottom of this, Ma'am. You can be sure of that." He watched Peter turn to be captured in a group embrace with his friends and May. Tony motioned for Steve to follow him into his office, closing the door as soon as Steve was inside.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Steve waited for the other man to say what he needed to say. "There will be an autopsy done," Tony began. "I want to know exactly what they did to him and why." Steve did as well. "What is Ross doing?" Tony said quietly. "This fascination with both Grace and Sophie has been obvious since the beginning. Am I the only one who thinks that?" Steve shook his head. "It crossed my mind. But we're going to have to move forward carefully, Tony. We can't include everyone on the team in this." "Agreed." Tony stared at the floor for a moment, deep in thought, before looking back up. "Grace. From what you know of her, is she capable of going, vigilante? Would she try to go after them on her own?" "She's a mother, Tony," Steve said carefully. "Of course, she is. It's how to prevent it that I'm trying to work out." "Clint," Tony offered. "He's her mentor. She trusts him. I don't care if we have to handcuff her to Clint, we have to make sure she doesn't get away from us." Steve frowned at that. "What are you so concerned about happening?" Tony's gaze never wavered. "If she goes rogue, Ross has an excuse to put her down or worse…" "Wait," Steve followed that train of thought. "You really think Ross is in this?" "Up to his ass." Tony's jaw locked. "We can't give him an excuse to kill her, or worse, arrest her. If they did whatever they did to her son, what would they do to her? Her sister?" Steve saw his point. Ross would likely go after Sophie too and that Steve wouldn't allow. Bucky was falling for the young woman. Steve knew how this would go. Bucky wouldn't hesitate to go to extremes to keep her safe, to do what he thought he should do for her. Well, hell. "We'll need to keep Bucky and Clint apprised of what's going on," Steve stressed to him. Tony nodded. "We'll need to allow for a funeral service, Tony," Steve continued. "It's going to be hard, but we have to it." Tony nodded again, seemed to not be hearing him. "Do you think… I mean. Pepper…" Tony looked like a man burning alive on the inside. "Is there a chance?" Steve's heart sunk for his friend. "I hope so, Tony. I really do." Tony walked around to his chair behind the desk, sank into it heavily. "She's pregnant, Steve. She's pregnant and didn't want the child. Because it's mine. Or because she didn't want to be tied to me. Will I…" "See him or her?" Steve offered, trying to keep his voice even. It was hard. All of HYDRA's dealings in this arena, tampering with the lives of innocent children, was the worst sort of evil to him. So unforgivable that he wondered how he would keep control if he were to encounter certain scenarios. "The child is valuable to them, Tony," Steve said slowly. "Because it's yours. That give him or her a chance. I'll do whatever I can to help you bring that baby home, Tony. I promise you that." Tony nodded, then his face crumbled. Tony Stark, the Tony Stark, burst into tears causing Steve to rise to his feet. Tony waved him away with a hand. "No, go. I'm sorry…" Steve understood. He closed the door behind him as he went to see out Nat, to get her take on how to proceed here. He'd have to take the lead on this one. He was the only one who wasn't emotionally compromised. He'd get Sam's input too. The only thing he was sure of? He'd put a stop to HYDRA hurting his team.

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tagging list: @jtargaryen18, @marvelfansworld, @sapphirescrolls, @nomadicpixel, @sweater-daddiesdumbdork, @queenoftheunderdark, @redfoxwritesstuff, and @my-favourite-fics, and @kitkatd7

#Hawkeye Fanfiction #Ronin Fanfiction #Clint Barton Fanfiction #Clint Barton x OC #Winter Soldier Fanfiction #Bucky Barnes Fanfiction #Bucky Barnes x OC

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somarysueme · 5 years

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WicDiv Thoughts, some overly personal

stiiiiiillllll can’t really put together my feelings about the end and epilogue. I will say that I liked the ending and epilogue more than I expected to*, and the longer I sit on it, I find more things to like about it.

(* Except for everything about Baal and Mini)

That said, there’s still that huge, unpleasant gap between what I wanted/expected this comic was supposed to be, and what it actually intended/was. I wrote this post after 43 (the “everyone does the thing” chapter), using bits of a half-written reaction to 39 ("Laura did the thing” chapter) to talk about that gap. I decided to sit on it til everything was said and done Just In Case, but I mostly still agree with what I’d written.

So Here Are My Thoughts

The full pantheon abdicating! This is basically where I expected us to go. Since 39 it seems like the natural place for the story to be headed. Laura’s revelations, along with the Daddy Forgive Us special made it clear that the only way out of the game was not to play it. I was kinda luke warm on that concept, but it made sense for where the story was at that point. I was waiting to see how it actually played out before getting fussy about it.

I give him a C for execution here. Maybe a C+.

I thought Dio’s moment was great. Jon’s was beautiful. Inanna’s I definitely could have gotten behind if he’d actually gotten to have any of that arc on the page instead of getting put on a bus 30 chapters ago.

The rest range from “meh” to “yikes.”

I could have liked this, I wanted to like this. Given how much “OKAY” has been miles more thoughtful than Mothering Invention, I was genuinely hoping to like this. I would have loved to see these kids find something more important than godhood to live for. But that’s not what we got.

We did get them realizing that being a god is not worth dying for. Which is good! And essential! And basically the central conceit of this comic!

But.

But...

I really wanted to see our cast value their lives period. And while there was some of that, there was far more of seeing them be humbled. We saw them beaten down until they had no choice but to admit they Were Not Special (or at least, were not as special as they thought). I was hoping for them to find a capacity to value their lives because their lives have value whether or not they are special, but instead it was a story about being humbled, and I guess to me, I just can’t see that what young queer artists need is help being humbled. They need help being valued as people, they need the internal presence of self to command that value be respected, and they need the external support to give them a fighting chance at that. And not to be That Fan, but that fighting chance doesn’t come from individual actions. It comes from worker solidarity and respect for labor as labor. It just doesn’t work for me to have a series around the exploitation and consumption of young talent and leave anything material about money and labor practices out of the material.

(McKelvie’s My (6000 F) pantheon has unionized joke, but unironically.)

Anyway this comic was all about Don’t Let This Happen To You. And that’s a good start, but I was hoping for it to be so much more than that. It could be that this is me looking at WicDiv and wanting it to say something broader about specialness and creativity and mental illness and exploitation.

(There’s a lot to be unpacked wrt presenting itself as a story about the whole world through all of human history, while also intending to be psuedoautobiographical for a very specific set of circumstances. But that’s not this post.)

It’s weird because like, Fandemonium already delivered masterfully on Laura learning to value herself outside of godhood. Laura’s last pre-apoptheosis soliloquy about “I can’t save any of them, but I can still help them” was one of those wham moments that really cemented this book’s place in my heart. Living through Fandemonium and realizing that the gods were people, and needed actual love and support from people who cared about them as people, and that just being a decent friend is something worth living for, fuck!! That’s good shit!! That’s fucking excellent!!

And for the rest of WicDiv’s run, I was always waiting for the story to get back to that place, but it never really did.

(ETA AFTER 45 IS OUT: ok fine I fucking love that Laura saved Luci. Big Gay Hero Girl drags naughty non-devil out of hell and they kiss, fucking A+. But “can’t save but CAN help” is still something I wish the comic had followed up on more. The friendship thing got touched on a little bit too, but never in a way I found as satisfying as Fandemonium.)

So anyway Luci going Full Diva. Her future is this and her future is nothing.

The longer I chew on it, the more I like it, and the more it seems like the inevitable place for Elanor Rigby’s story to go. It’s a good continuation from where we last saw her have any scrap of agency, but also frustrating in that “the lat time we saw her have any scrap of agency” was basically the entire comic ago. It was jarring to have her go from [One Sassy Line Per Issue] to [Maybe I’m The Final Boss]. Her story suffered deeply suffered from all the time she spent off screen. But despite all that, I’m very much really looking forward to whatever the fuck Laura Wilson’s going to do about this.

I’m trying not to get my hopes up for Talk Her Down ending. It seems perfectly in line with this series to end with the moral of “sometimes, no matter how kind or brave or caring you are, people you love pick their addictions over living.” That’s a song I’ve already heard live and in person, and I don’t really want or need to hear anyone else’s studio cover.

Uh final thought on 43 is.... Minanke DOES seem to count herself as part of the 12, which still lines up with my Emily Was Also A Fake God theory (Fauxmaterasu theory? Nokami hypothesis? Amaterasuspicion?) but it does seem unlikely to actually be a Thing between now and the epilogue. shrug.

(ETA AGAIN: I had to write out my feelings on 39 and Laura’s own abdication (unpotheosis?) to properly respond to 43. So here’s a draft of another unpublished post that I fleshed out.)

I have extremely mixed feelings about chapter 39.

First Feeling: thank fuck the pregnancy plot is over.

Second feeling: establishing abdication as an option established a nice overarching shape to this book. Things have felt directionless for many chapters, but this does make it seem like we are back on some kind of track.

Third Feeling: kinda liking abdication as a general direction for endgame. For most of the series, I was hoping the whole that there actually was Something Important about the recurrence, but since it's clear now that it’s basically all lies, I like this this angle well enough.

Strongest Feeling: hell fucking yes to Laura’s shaved head.

(Tangential Feeling: buzzing your own head is good and you should think about doing it. Doing it for catharsis in a moment of crisis is A-OK, but I did it once just because I felt like it and it was fucking great. banishing your high maintenance hair does not cure depression, but it does give you back an hour of personal upkeep every day and the fuzzy head is wonderful to touch.)

Contrary to most of the fandom, though, I absolutely loathed Laura’s monologue here, and the context that it puts around her not-choice. There’s a lot of shitty Hot Takes out there about how mental illness and addition and creation intersect. A lot of people will suggest that being unhealthy makes you a better artist, and what’s more that being a better artist is worth being unhealthy. This series is unambiguously and steadfastly against that message, which is one of the absolute best and most important things about it! I don’t want to diminish that.

But that all said, seeing Laura alone in the dark describing “an addicts moment of clarity” was... jesus it was all kinds of personally painful and upsetting. It hurt real bad, and not in the way I though I had agreed to be hurt. And I’m not sure how to spell out why.

I have thousands and thousands of words on why it struck such a sour cord in me, but a lions share can be summed up with “fuck absolutely every story where a Troubled Girl just needed to get traumatized/humiliated/humbled enough to Realize How Bad She Was Being.” Double fuck this one in particular for showing the girl getting over addiction/mental illness by literally sitting alone in the dark thinking about how much she fucked up. That story is tired, and cruel, and dangerous, and thank Christ I encountered this comic at 30 and not 19 because I would have swallowed it down with all the other poison that Helpful Adults fed me.

But yeah though, her shaved look is fucking adorable as shit. Neither she nor Britany made any hair mistakes.

ETA ULTIMATE: That last bit is the one thing in this post I don’t quite still stand by. By the end, it’s clear that the above wasn’t at all the story this book was trying to tell at all. I thought WicDiv was trying to tell some Epic Truths, Hard-Facts-About-Human-Nature shit. But despite the sweeping setup (All Across The World and Through All Of History) the book was using a complex allegory for a very specific situation (Selling Your Soul and Name and Life To Creative-Industrial Machines), and that made it muddy.

(Insert Principal Skinner meme here “Am I out of touch? Was I simply interrogating the text from the wrong perspective? No, it’s the original creators who are wrong!”)

I’m from a family of mentally ill, addiction-prone, recovering-Catholic artists. Laura is in my blood. Half the people I love are Laura. I have Laura’s painting on my wall and her books on my shelf. I’ve sat with Laura’s mother a few years after Laura’s death, as her father now slowly dying in the next room, and listened to her music for the first time. (It was good. It was really good. And I never even knew.)

These experiences colored my read, but how could they not?

I do now, I think, understand what Gillen was trying to say- the addiction he was talking about was to stardom, the attention and accolades, and free pass to make your own shit be everyone else’s problem. I understand now that the “art” that the gods made was always supposed to be Not Real Art, that there was no true “message” from their songs- all noise, no signal. It was never about Laura’s art, or even Laura as an artist. And that was unpleasant to reconcile.

Because when you're Laura, or Elanor, or any of them, life doesn’t have to grant your ill-advised wish before it fucks your head and kills you. Sometimes you fight as hard as you can with every fiber of your being and you’re still in Hell. Sometimes you’re doing all the Meetings and self-reflection and therapy you can manage and you’re still a Destroyer. But the shit you create while you’re down there is worthy of creating. What you do with your too-short, too-fucked time matters. A fucked up life was still worth living because it was your life to live. And... I guess, from the story presented in Faust Act and Fandemonium, I sort of thought that this was what WicDiv was supposed to be talking about. I thought it was going to be about doing something good even when life is fucking you. But instead it is a cautionary tale that that suggests you could have stopped getting fucked at any time if you had just gotten over yourself and said the magic words.

We spent half the comic watching Laura drag herself through the mud. Half the comic was focused on Her Mistakes, when so little of her circumstances were actually her fault. “Punish Ophelia until she gets over herself” is not at all what WicDiv meant to be about. I imagine the creators would be aghast to hear that’s what I got out of it. But the text is what the text is. While it is intended (and successful!) at being many other very good things, this one really bad thing is still part of that mix, and that sucks.

Maybe I should have picked up on the discrepancy between my read and the intent sooner. Probably I should have just done myself a favor and stop reading once I did.

2016, 2017 while my life was going a bit to shit, this comic was exactly what I needed. Being in the fandom made my life better and helped me meet cool new friends and get through some of the hardest shit to happen to me since I was a kid. Then in 2018, it slid into source of frustration and soured promise. Now at the end I have no idea if I liked it or not.

But that’s fine, now that it’s done. The ink is dry, the ritual is over. It’s just a comic book now. Some pictures I still love and some words I don’t always agree with. A lot of noise, arguable amounts of signal, but not a song I want to play on loop anymore.

I have no real conclusion to draw here. I respect at how firmly WicDiv rejects dark and unhealthy parts of being a professional creator- especially unhealthy things that are generally just accepted as Common Wisdom. I don’t think it took enough care in spelling out what it was rejecting, though, and I do think it was remiss in not finding good healthy things to embrace as an alternative.

All of the above notwithstanding, I have to give it credit for delivering almost exactly what I wanted in terms of lesbian nonsense. That ain’t nothing.

I give this series ?????/∞ and am happy to be safely clear of Kieron Gillen’s Wild Ride

#wicdiv #wicdiv spoilers #somewhat negative #its a mixed bag tbh

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write-havoc · 6 years

Text

This Is How I Disappear Ch. 58

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

Fandom: The Walking Dead AU

Pairing: Negan/Original Female Character

Status: Ongoing

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

Intended for readers 18+ of age only

Masterlist

——— Negan’s POV ———

Martin stares back at me with eyes that are the same exact fuckin’ color as mine. “Y-You...?”

“I’m the fuckin’ son,” I answer, recalling what Martin had just said about finding out his father killed his wife and attacked his son.

“Oh my god.” Martin looks at me for a second and then looks around like the fuckin’ answers to his questions are gonna pop up out there.

I look around, too. Arat, Dwight, and Jesus flick their eyes away when I fuckin’ look at them. And Rick, the only other person still standing close enough to hear this shit show, is staring right at me with this weird ass look on his face.

“Uh,” Martin clears his throat, “I think we should talk in private. I know a place.”

“Sir?” Dwight cuts in. “You wanted to be on the road,” he reminds me.

I think it over. I do want to get back home to Chuck, but me and this fucker gotta talk. I mean, I don’t really want to talk about this shit, but this guy is my... my father’s son, I guess.

“Dwight, follow me,” I announce. “Arat, Jesus, get shit ready to go. I’ll be back in an hour.”

Me and Dwight follow Martin into a building that was obviously dorms before all this shit. When we get to a room on the second floor, Martin pauses and looks back to us.

“I’m just gonna check on my daughter first,” he says and opens the door.

He leaves it open and I can see a blonde girl, probably fourteen, sitting cross legged on a bed writing in a notebook.

“Hey, Dad,” the girl greets then looks back to me with a confused look on her face.

“Emily, this is... um, Negan.” He gestures back to me. “He’s from a new group that we are starting to work with. I’m gonna be down the hall talking with him if you need me.”

“Okay. Where’s mom?”

“I think she’s working in the kitchen today. She should be back in a little bit.”

Martin turns and leaves his room, leading me and Dwight further down to a room with a sort of seating area.

I turn to Dwight before we walk in. “Stay out here.” He obeys and stays in the hall while me and Martin go in.

“So,” I sit down on a couch and prop Lucille up beside me. “We share some fuckin’ DNA.” I’m trying to sound fuckin’ nonchalant, but really, I’m freaking the fuck out. I hate thinking about my goddamn father, and now, I’m gonna have to talk about him with a guy probably in a similar situation to mine. I mean, my father is his, too. And he brutalized this guy’s mom the same way he did mine, mostly. He didn’t kill her like my mom, but still...

Martin sits across from me and scratches at the back of his neck. “Yeah. It seems like it.” He studies my face. “You don’t look like-“

I cut him off. “I look like my mom. Thank fuck.”

He kinda nods. “Yeah. I look like him .”

“That’s why I fuckin’ asked you. I’ve tried to forget his goddamn face, but I guess I fuckin’ didn’t because one look at you and I knew you had to be his.”

“Did you know what he did?” he asks suddenly. “To my mom?”

I shake my head. “No. The last time I heard about that motherfucker was when they sentenced him for my mom’s murder.” I look down and shake my head. “I guess I should’ve fuckin’ expected him to do shit like that to someone else.” I raise my head to look at him again. “But I didn’t know he did that to your mom.”

Martin nods. “The police found him when I was fifteen. DNA evidence and all that. It was 1997. My mom told me his name then when they told her. I saw his picture...” He shakes his head. “The detectives said that he went to prison a couple years after I was born. So you were just a kid, too, I guess.” He shrugs and takes a breath. “Do you have kids?”

His question takes me off guard. “Kids?”

“Yeah. I have two. You saw Emily. Me and my wife have a younger son, too. We, uh... We never told them about my biological father. They don’t know that grandpa adopted me.”

“And your wife is still here?” I remember him mentioning her.

“Oh yeah. It was tough, but we all made it out. We’ve been living here for about three years now.”

“That’s fuckin’ lucky for you.”

He gives me a look. “I guess. But we all have lost something in this world.”

I change the subject. I really just want to get this shit over with now. I don’t even know why I agreed to talk with this guy. “So what did you do before this shit?”

“I was an investment banker.”

“No shit? You were a rich prick?”

He lets out a huff. “I did well. I wouldn’t exactly call myself a prick , though.”

“So you did well before and you’re doing well now?” I gesture broadly with my hand. I don’t know why, but the more he talks, the angrier I get.

“Yeah,” he answers, getting pissed at me, too. “The Kingdom is a good place to live. I don’t know about your home-“

I don’t let him finish that fucking thought. “You got, what, two hundred people here. Judging by what I’ve seen and the living space I was fuckin’ told about during the goddamn tour. I have hundreds of people under me. They are all well fed, protected, living their fuckin’ lives all peachy fuckin’ keen. So don’t even fuckin’ suggest that I don’t provide for my people.”

He pauses then lets out a deep breath. “We’ve gotten off on the wrong foot, I think.” He clears his throat. “Do we have any more siblings?”

“Siblings?” I bite back. “We are not siblings . We may share a fuckin’ Y chromosome, but you are not brother. And that goes for any other poor sons-a-bitches that our biological father may have shot his DNA into.” I get up, grabbing Lucille so I can head out of the room. I can’t deal with this shit anymore.

“Is he still alive?” Martin’s voice calls out before I can open the door.

I pause and look back. “I sure as fuck hope not.”

We all get back on the road, but it’s a miserable fuckin’ ride. No one is saying shit. Dwight has his eyes firmly on the road in front of him and Arat and Jesus are just sitting silently in the fuckin’ back twiddling their damn thumbs.

“Someone fuckin’ say something,” I call out when the quiet gets to me.

Jesus clears his throat. “The Kingdom seems like it will be a good ally.”

“Yeah,” Arat chuckles a little nervously. “That King Ezekiel is kinda hot, too.”

“You think that low rent Medieval Times motherfucker is hot ?” I call back with a laugh. I guess that got my mind off of the shit show I don’t want to think about.

Arat shrugs. “I kinda dig his whole thing.”

“What about you, Jesus? You digging King Douche, too?”

“He’s not my type,” he answers with a little smirk.

“See?” I say to Arat. “He’s got good fuckin’ taste in men. Besides, you know that fucker’s got a thing for that tiger.”

Arat laughs. “He does not. You’re just jealous that you don’t have a fucking tiger,” she teases.

I chuckle. “I got Lucille and she does just fuckin’ fine, thank you very much.”

——— ———

“You know, that guy kinda looks like Negan,” Laura comments from her seat beside Chuck on the couch.

Chuck studies the tv screen as she makes the main character of the game Last of Us sneak up to a person and kill him. “Actually, now that you mention it, he kinda does look like Negan.” She laughs. “Don’t tell Negan, but I definitely have a thing for Joel.”

Laura laughs. “You have a type, I see.”

Her radio suddenly squawks to life. “ We’re half an hour out ,” Dwight’s voice relays.

Chuck gets up as fast as she can (which isn’t that fast) from her seat and starts to get her coat on.

“What are you doing?” Laura asks, standing up from her own seat.

“I want to meet Negan out there when he comes in.” She finishes with her coat, but struggles to slip her feet in her boots. Her big belly makes bending down impossible.

“Here.” Laura crouches in front of her to help. “You know Negan wants you to stay up here, right?” She gets Chuck’s feet into her shoes and stands up. “And Dwight said a half an hour.”

“Well, it takes me a while to waddle around. I want to be there when Negan gets in.”

The pair leave and use the freight elevator to get down to the main floor. Chuck just isn’t able to get up and down all those stairs, anymore, so the elevator really is the only option. Negan has made sure to keep it operational in case Chuck needs to get down to the infirmary in an emergency. But Chuck doesn’t abuse the luxury; she rarely goes downstairs anymore since Negan had requested her to take it easy.

Despite Laura following Chuck through the halls as her official body guard, all of the other residents seem to watch over her, too. They greet her casually, but she feels their protective eyes watching her.

It’s an odd feeling. She’s happy that everyone has embraced her and cares about her and her baby’s wellbeing, but at the same time, she doesn’t really like being seen as some helpless thing that needs protecting. Though, she supposes she kind of is considering she can’t even get her shoes on by herself right now.

Even with Chuck’s waddling, she and Laura get outside pretty quickly. So they wait by the gate for Negan to arrive. It’s slightly snowing, but it’s wet. The temperature isn’t low enough for it to stick to the ground.

About ten minutes after they start waiting, Laura lets out a huff. “Negan’s gonna kill me knowing you were out here this long,” she mutters, though she’s not seriously mad.

“I’m fine,” Chuck responds. “It’s not that cold.”

“It’s like forty degrees.” Laura rubs at her hands to warm them.

Chuck laughs. “I got a coat on. And I’m not cold. Besides, I’m sure women more pregnant than me have done far more strenuous things in worse weather than this, anyway.”

“But those pregnant women weren’t carrying Negan’s baby.”

Chuck laughs. “That doesn’t make me more fragile than every other pregnant woman.”

“No. But Negan is more protective than your average husband. In case you haven’t noticed.”

Chuck giggles as she nods. “That’s true.”

When Negan’s car pulls in and parks, Chuck can’t help but rush over to his door before he even gets out. She doesn’t even wait for him to open it, either, pulling on the handle herself to open it for him.

Negan starts to climb out of the car, Lucille in hand. “What are you doing out here, baby girl?” He wraps her in a hug and gives her a quick kiss.

“Waiting for you,” she answers.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he cradles her face with his ungloved hand and swipes his thumb over her skin, “your cheeks are fuckin’ red. You shouldn’t be out here.” He gives a quick look to Laura, who is standing behind Chuck.

Chuck giggles. “She said you’d be mad. But I wanted to meet you down here.”

Negan lets out a sigh. “Let’s get the fuck upstairs.”

They walk together, hand in hand, through The Sanctuary, but Chuck knows something isn’t right. Despite Negan’s friendly attitude and assertions that the meeting with The Kingdom went well, she can see a darkness in his eyes. When they get back into the privacy of their bedroom, Chuck asks about the meeting.

Negan sets Lucille on the coffee table. “It was fuckin’ insane, honestly.” He takes his gloves and jacket off then sits on the couch to slip off his boots. “I don’t think they’re a threat, but the king talks like a fuckin’ community theater Shakespeare production.”

Chuck sits down next to Negan. “King?”

“Yeah. Their leader calls himself King Ezekiel. And, oh yeah, he has an actual fuckin’ tiger named Shiva.”

Chuck lets out a gasp. “Shiva? Like from the zoo?!” she asks excitedly. Chuck and her mom had made regular trips to the zoo in the time before and there was, indeed, a tiger named Shiva there for a number of years. She was always one of her mother’s favorite animals and they spent a lot of time watching her in her paddock.

“Uh... I guess,” Negan responds.

“Well, there was a tiger named Shiva at the zoo in DC. Hard to imagine there’d be a different one in the area, too.”

Negan wraps his arm around Chuck and pulls her into his side. “So that fucker stole the tiger from the zoo, then.” He chuckles. “Makes sense, I guess.”

“So... Anything else happen?” Chuck asks a little hesitantly, knowing something must have.

Negan lets out a heavy breath. “I met- There was a guy there. Turns out he’s my half brother.”

Chuck sits up to look at Negan. “What?!” Out of everything Chuck thought could have possibly happened, Negan meeting his half brother was not even on the list.

“Yeah.” He rubs his hand down his face. “His name is Martin. Apparently, my piece of shit father raped that poor fuck’s mother and got her pregnant. Gave him his ugly ass face, too.”

“Oh my god, Negan. That’s... That’s crazy.”

Negan shrugs it off, but Chuck knows that it’s affecting him.

She runs her hand over his cheek. “Are you okay?”

He looks at her like he’s wrestling with what to say. “I’m okay.”

Chuck doesn’t exactly believe him. “Talk to me, Negan.”

He holds her gaze for a moment, then casts his head down. “It’s just...” He scratches at his face. “The same man raped two different women. Had two different fuckin’ sons. One got to live with two fuckin’ parents that loved him. Had a fancy ass fuckin’ job and rode out the goddamn apocalypse with his wife and two kids fully intact.” As he speaks, he starts to sound more and more bitter. “One got to move ten times before he turned eighteen and lost every- fuckin’ -thing he ever loved.”

Chuck knows what he means, but she can’t help but feel a sting at his words. “Not everything,” she responds meekly.

Negan turns to her and sets his hand on her stomach. “I didn’t fuckin’ mean...”

“I know.” Chuck leans forward to kiss him on the cheek. “I just want you to know that you can talk to me. That I’m here for you. I want to make you happy.”

“You do make me happy, sweetheart. You don’t have to fuckin’ worry.”

Chuck hates that Negan’s past still haunts him. Even though he’s made some headway with moving past his guilt for what happened with Lucille, he still has more painful chapters from his life that he really hasn’t dealt with.

With the temperatures continuing to drop, all of the settlements, including The Kingdom, start to clear out the dead zones. It takes about a week to systematically kill all the dead ones and burn the bodies, but it all goes off without a hitch.

Because this operation is so heavily planned, Negan has to spend a lot of time in the radio room coordinating with all the teams. That means that Chuck doesn’t get to see him much during the day. And when he comes home, he doesn’t even mention his half brother that lives at The Kingdom, like that bombshell was never even dropped.

Chuck doesn’t want to push him into having to deal with it, but she thinks it might be unhealthy to completely push it all away. Despite how good Negan is at hiding his feelings, Chuck can tell that he’s being affected by the knowledge that his father has another son out there. Unsure of what to do about all of it, Chuck decides to just be supportive and to keep Negan happy.

While Negan is busy downstairs one day, Chuck enlists Sherry to help her with a special dinner. Since Negan is still the one that always makes dinner for the pair, Chuck doesn’t have too much experience in the kitchen, especially with anything fancy. But Sherry provides the recipe, ingredients, and detailed instructions for Chuck to follow.

Chuck knows about when Negan will come home, so she times out the meal to be ready for then. She gets the steaks seasoned and on the electric grill, baked potatoes in the oven, and mixed vegetables on the stove. She even found a nice bottle of wine for Negan. None for her, of course.

When Negan comes home right on time, Chuck turns back to look at him entering the kitchen.

“Something smells fuckin’ awesome.” Negan wraps his arms around Chuck from behind and kisses her cheek. “Whatcha doing in here?” He takes the spatula out of Chuck’s hand and checks the steaks himself. “The bigger one mine?”

“Yeah. I think it should be about done.”

“Looks fuckin’ perfect, sweetheart. I’ll do the plates up.”

“No.” She turns around and pushes him slightly back. “Let me. Just go sit down.”

As she starts to put all the food on the plates in the fanciest way she possibly can, she hears Negan uncork the bottle of wine. She carries the food to the table just as Negan pours himself a glass.

“I was gonna do that for you,” Chuck says as she sets Negan’s plate in front of him.

“It’s okay.” He looks up at her with a smirk. “I got it.”

Chuck sits down with her plate, but she doesn’t start eating. She waits for Negan to take his first bite, eager to see if she did a good job with Sherry’s recipe.

Negan cuts into the steak and takes a big bite, groaning around the food in his mouth. “Fuck me, that’s good.”

Chuck smiles. “Really?”

He swallows the bite. “Yeah, baby. This is fuckin’ awesome.”

Chuck beams at his praise. “Good. I’m glad.” Chuck starts in on her own food.

He takes bites of the other dishes and approves of them as well. “So what did I do to deserve all this?”

Chuck clears her throat. “You take such good care of me that I thought I should take care of you for once.”

Negan chuckles. “You take real good fuckin’ care of me, sweetheart.” He wiggles his eyebrows at her.

“I don’t mean that .” She giggles. “I mean... everything else.”

“I like taking care of you,” he replies more seriously.

“I know. But I’m your wife, so I should help out, too.”

“Baby girl, you’re eight months pregnant. All you gotta do is fuckin’ finish cooking that bun in your oven.”

After they finish eating, Negan clears the plates before Chuck gets the chance to.

“I can get the dishes,” she tries.

“No fuckin’ way, baby girl. After you slaved away at that awesome fuckin’ dinner for me, the least I can do is the goddamn dishes. Besides, you need to keep off your feet.”

Chuck knows that it’s useless to fight him, so she goes back into the bedroom and changes into her oversized nightshirt to get more comfortable. But her special night isn’t done yet. She roots around in the closet and finds that old familiar chess set and brings it back out to the kitchen.

When Chuck starts to set the board up on the kitchen table, Negan looks back at her from where he’s finishing up the dishes.

“You want to play chess?” he asks with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah. We haven’t played in a while. I thought you might want to.”

Negan lets the water out of the sink and walks to the table. “Okay...”

She looks up at him as he looks down at her. “What?” she asks, not really understanding why he’s acting suspicious of her.

“Nothing.” He sits down and they start to play.

Chuck isn’t exactly playing her best, having pregnancy brain still affect her, so she loses pretty quickly. “Shoot. That wasn’t a very good game. You wanna play again? I’ll try to do better.”

“What’s going on, Chuck?” Negan suddenly asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Come on. I’m not an idiot.”

“I just... wanted to do something nice,” she responds with a shrug. “I can’t just be nice?”

“Sure, you’re fuckin’ nice, but not ‘planned out dinner and entertainment’ kinda nice.”

“Maybe I am now.”

“Chuck,” he chides, easily looking through Chuck’s words.

“I wanted to make you happy. You know, after what you learned about your father. You haven’t talked about it all week, so I wasn’t sure if it bothered you. I just...” she shrugs, “I want you happy.”

He lets out a sigh. “I’m fuckin’ happy, okay? But, you know... You’re one to talk about dealing with past shit,” he says almost teasingly.

“What?”

“You’re just as bad as me about it. You tell me the bare fuckin’ minimum about what’s bothering you, then say ‘I’m okay’ and that’s the end of it. Shit, baby girl, all the shit you’ve been through and you barely talk about it.”

Chuck nods slowly. “I guess we have that in common. But... we should talk to each other, right?”

Negan nods, but keeps his head down. “Yeah. That shit’s been bothering me. I hate that my father hurt another woman. Honestly, he probably hurt even more than that. But the thing I hate most about all this shit is that Martin had a good fuckin’ life.” He looks over to Chuck. “How fuckin’ selfish is that? What kinda piece of shit thinks that way? But that’s all I’ve thought about. How I got beaten regularly and he had Sunday fuckin’ dinners. How I turned out to be a fuckin’ adulterer and he’s a family man. We were born the same fuckin’ way by the same goddamn man, but I got shit and he got everything.”

Chuck reaches over and lays her hand on top of his. “Your childhood was horrible, but you turned out good despite it. You’re a good man. You’ve saved countless lives. You keep us all safe. You lead . Martin can’t say that.”

Negan nods, but it’s not very convincing.

“I know a little bit about what you’re feeling. When my dad died, I thought, ‘Why couldn’t it have been someone else? Why couldn’t that drunk driver have hit another car?’ And that’s kinda horrible to think, to wish a death on another family. But I loved my dad so much and I just wanted him back.” A tear slips down Chuck’s cheek, but Negan is quick to wipe it away. “But it’s human nature to think like that. Because we didn’t deserve what happened to us. You didn’t deserve to have a horrible childhood and I didn’t deserve to lose my dad.”

“It’s still shitty.”

“Yeah. But no matter what, you didn’t deserve to be abused by your father. Or to lose your mother. Or Lucille. And I know you feel like you did. I can relate, I guess. I know I didn’t deserve to be hurt by the guys at Rolling Acres or Brendon or Eldritch, but part of me thinks I’m to blame.”

“No,” Negan is quick to say. “That’s not true. You did absolutely nothing that would warrant what those fuckers did to you.”

“I know.” She shrugs a shoulder. “But it’s easy to think about what more I could’ve done to stop it all from happening. And that’s why I don’t like talking about it. I’m afraid you’ll realize that I could’ve done more.”

Negan stands from his seat and moves to crouch beside Chuck. He takes her hands in his and kisses both of them. “I would never ever blame you for all that shit. I blame myself before I blame you.”

“I don’t want you to blame yourself, Negan. I just...” she lets out a heavy breath. “I guess both of us need to work on getting over our pasts before Maddie comes. I want her to be able to talk to us about anything, so we need to be good examples. We need to be open for her.”

Negan stands and helps Chuck to stand, too. “Alright, baby girl. Let’s get it all out.”

They go back into their bedroom and settle down on the couch for an emotional discussion.

“You sure you want to hear all my shit?” Negan asks.

Chuck nods. “If you want to hear mine.”

Negan sighs heavily. “Where should I fuckin’ start?” He runs his hand down his face. “I mean, I’ve talked about my childhood with you before. I’ve told you more things than I’ve told anybody. Even Lucille, I think. She could never wrap her head around it. Her family was fuckin’ perfect. She never dealt with any fuckin’ darkness in her whole life. Except me, I guess.” He chuckles, but not in humor. “I never wanted to upset her with tales of my shitty life. Like how my father broke my arm when I was five because I got goddamn marker on the carpet. Or how I had to help my mom get her shoulder back in fuckin’ place after my father threw her against the wall. I think I was eleven.”

“I don’t know how anyone could do that to their wife and son.”

“My father was a monster. The worst person I’ve ever fuckin’ met. Worse than the dead fucks that walk this earth.” Negan’s eyes start to well up. “When Lucille couldn’t get pregnant, part of me thought it was for the fuckin’ best. Because I thought maybe I would turn into a fuckin’ monster like him.”

“Oh Negan.” Chuck cradles his face in her hands. “You’re nothing like him. You’ll never be anything like him.”

“I’m so fuckin’ afraid I have the same genes in me that made my father a piece of shit. But I always convinced myself that I’m more like my mom because I look like her. But fuckin’ Martin looks like a goddamn clone of my father and he’s fuckin’ perfect . So maybe I do-“

“You don’t, Negan,” Chuck interrupts. “You don’t . The fact that you’re afraid that you do proves you don’t.”

“I had a fuckin’ panic attack when I told the wives you were pregnant,” he blurts out. “Right in front of them.”

“You did?” Chuck didn’t know that Negan ever had a panic attack before. He’s never mentioned it.

“They thought I got you pregnant on fuckin’ purpose to force you to become my wife. And it made me think that... maybe I fuckin’ did and I didn’t realize it. Maybe that part of me that I got from my father woke up and made me do it.” Negan’s tears start to roll down his cheeks to pool in his beard. “Because it was just a split fuckin’ second. That’s all it took. A split second of me not fuckin’ thinking of you and what you wanted. Only what I wanted. And it was enough to make me lose control.” He lets out a sob and looks away.

“Negan, it’s okay.” Chuck starts to cry, too. She’s only seen Negan this emotional once before and it has her own emotions building, as well.

He brings his hands up to cover his face. “I did exactly what my fuckin’ father did. I trapped you into being with me. How the fuck can you love me?”

Chuck pulls his hands away and forces him to look at her. “You didn’t. You didn’t force me. I wanted to have sex with you that night. I didn’t talk about using protection. The responsible adult thing to do would have been to discuss everything beforehand, but neither of us did that. I know I was freaked out at first when we found out about the baby, but I know in my heart you would never do anything like what your father did.” She wipes away Negan’s tears and kisses his cheek. “I love you, Negan. And I love our baby. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

Negan leans forward and puts his forehead to hers. “I never want to be one of the men that has hurt you,” he whispers. “You’ve gone through so fuckin’ much.” He kisses her then pulls back to look at her. “I never want anything fuckin’ bad to happen to you ever again.”

“I know I’ve had bad stuff happen to me. And it still hurts sometimes, but knowing that you’ll be there for me really helps. After you brought me here... I didn’t tell you the details of everything that happened at Rolling Acres...”

“You don’t have to tell me, sweetheart. I know what those fucks did to you.”

Chuck nods. “After that, I just felt like I was nothing. Then, with Brendon, he made me feel like nothing, too. Like I was just some pawn in a game that I was too weak to play.“ Chuck takes in a deep breath then exhales. “Eldritch scared me more than anything because he wasn’t just threatening me, he was threatening her, too.” Chuck places her hands on her round belly. “And I don’t know what I would’ve done if my actions got her hurt. If I lost her because I couldn’t get myself out. If I made you lose her...” Chuck can’t finish her thought and holds her hand up to her mouth to stifle a sob.

“Hey, hey.” Negan wipes Chuck’s cheeks and puts his arm around her in a hug. “It’s okay, baby girl. Don’t get worked up, okay? I think we’ve both opened the fuck up enough for one night.” He gives her a little kiss. “Okay?”

Chuck nods.

Negan helps her get into bed and situates all the pillows the way Chuck likes before sliding in behind her. Right before Chuck drifts off to sleep, Negan’s voice rouses her.

“Chuck?” he whispers.

“Yeah?”

“I think you’re making me a better man.”

Chuck can’t help but smile wide as Negan wraps his arm around her belly. And right at the same time, Maddie starts to kick.

#negan #negan fanfiction #negans thirst squad #negan x oc #negan x original female character #negan x ofc #negan / ofc #negan / oc #negan / original female character #jdm #jeffrey dean morgan #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead au #the walking dead #this is how i disappear #tihid #writehavoc writes #writehavoc this is how i disappear

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thisdiscontentedwinter · 7 years

Text

hunger - chapter 15

Hunger master post.

The wolf’s boy smells of fear and confusion and adrenaline. His heart is beating fast, his blood rushing in his veins, and the wolf wants to hold him close and press his nose into his hairline where his scent is strong. Hold him until his tremors pass and he grows calm in his wolf’s embrace. The wolf lurches forward—his boy flails backward in response—and the chain pulls tight, bringing the wolf up short.

“H-how do you know my name?” his boy asks again, voice pitched high. There’s a tremor in it that’s close to breaking.

The wolf reaches out with a hand instead of a paw, and then pulls it back.

He is scaring his boy.

Stiles doesn’t know him like this. His senses aren’t the same as the wolf’s. He relies too much on sight, like all humans. He doesn’t know they are pack.

The wolf moves back to the wall to give the chain some slack. He rests there on his side, his legs drawn up to shield his naked parts from the boy’s gaze. Humans have different ideas of modesty than wolves. He remembers knowing that.

His boy stares at him wide-eyed.

The wolf lifts his nose to take in more of his scent.

Under the stink of fear he smells better than he did in their alleyway. He smells clean. His breath isn’t sour from being hungry all the time. He smells of soap and shampoo. Someone has been taking care of him in ways the wolf never could. The wolf is jealous of that, and at the same time glad. And yet, his boy is here. Stiles was supposed to run, and stay free, and yet he’s here. That was never supposed to happen. Kate was never supposed to touch Stiles. The wolf’s boy was supposed to live.

“How do you know who I am?” Stiles asks, his voice stronger this time. He shuffles forward a few inches. “Derek? How do you know who I am?”

“Found you,” the wolf says. “I found you.”

***

There’s something very wrong with Derek Hale, and it’s not just the way he’s chained up naked in this place. He doesn’t seem…right. Stiles’s first guess would be trauma, because clearly there’s a hell of a lot of trauma happening here—both the mental and the physical sort, but it’s not quite what he’d call a sure thing. Because Derek Hale and all his wrongness is another ill-fitting piece in the incomprehensible puzzle that is everything about Beacon Hills. There is so much more going on here than Stiles knows. He’s glimpsed that often enough, hasn’t he? The things that don’t make sense. The weird things. The things that he’d be too scared to tell a doctor in case they tried to admit him to a psych ward.

But either Stiles is crazy, or the whole world is.

He wonders if this is how his mom felt when the disease first took hold of her mind. How terrifying it is to suddenly live in a world where nothing makes sense. How at first she clung to the things she could trust—

“John? There’s a man standing in the door. Do you see him too?”

“There’s nobody there, Claude.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

—but by the end she didn’t even trust Stiles’s dad.

“Claudia.”

“He’s trying to kill me! Help me, John! Please help me!”

“Claudia, he’s our son.”

“John, please!”

Sometimes Stiles thinks those words tore a hole in him that’s even bigger than the one her death made. It’s never healed, not really. He knows it wasn’t his fault. He knows that, and he’s always known it. But it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

When Stiles was eleven he went on a class trip to the local museum. Afterwards, they ate their lunch in the park. There was a homeless man there who was walking around in short, abortive circles, muttering and swatting at things that weren’t there. The other kids thought it was funny. Stiles thought it was terrifying.

He opens his eyes and looks at Derek.

Who’s crazier? Stiles or the world?

“You found me.” He holds Derek’s gaze. “Where did you find me, Derek?”

Derek opens his mouth, but no words come out. His forehead creases. He moves away from the wall again, and the chain around his throat clinks as the links knock against one another. “Found you. Hungry. Burger.”

Stiles doesn’t dare breathe.

It turns out those puzzle pieces do fit together, as long as Stiles is willing to accept that the finished product looks nothing like the picture on the box.

“You’re him,” Stiles whispers. “You’re the dog.”

Derek makes a sound in his throat that sounds almost like a growl.

“A wolf,” Stiles corrects. A sense of wonder seizes him, and he almost wants to laugh it’s so ridiculous. Jesus. It’s so ridiculous, but at the same time it makes perfect sense. “A werewolf.”

“Smart,” Derek says, his voice hardly more than a whisper. “Smart boy.”

“Can you…” Stiles moves closer. “Can you show me?”

***

The wolf is tired. There’s too much wolfsbane in his system at the moment for him to not be in pain. He needs sleep. He needs time to heal. But this is Stiles. This is his boy, and the wolf aches for a touch he knows won’t come unless he’s in a form Stiles is more comfortable with. Stiles won’t want to touch him in this form, and that’s good. The wolf doesn’t like this shape either. It’s strange and foreign still, and Kate delights in running her hands over it before she finds new ways to make him flinch in pain. The wolf feels safer on four paws.

He sniffs the air.

Stiles’s scent is piquant with anticipation. His blood is thrumming underneath his skin. His fear is still there, a baseline scent in this place, but he’s not afraid of the wolf.

Smart boy.

The wolf closes his eyes and summons his shift. It’s hard. He thinks of the moon, and the Preserve, and all the things that call to the wilder nature of his animal form. He used to be able to shift easily, almost seamlessly, years ago, but that was when he was safe, and when he was surrounded by pack, and when he was free.

The shift begins as a warm itch in his core. His fangs and claws come first—Stiles gasps—and then his bones shift and snap, and pain flares bright for a fraction of a second before it’s gone again. The wolf snaps his jaws, pleased, and stretches. His claws scrape along the tiles as he bows his spine.

He doesn’t even need to reach the end of the chain before his boy’s arms are around his neck, and his boy’s face is pressed against his.

“I thought you were dead!”

The wolf chuffs, and knocks his head gently against the boy, dislodging him. The boy sits back, eyes bright with tears. His smile is shaky. The wolf presses his nose against the boy’s cheek. And follows the trail of a tear up. The boy squeezes his eyes shut, and his lashes tickle the wolf’s nose. The wolf sniffs up to his temple, to where his scent clings to the soft prickles of his hair. He drags his tongue against his boy’s temple—salt and skin and sweat—and Stiles makes a high-pitched sound of surprise.

The wolf draws back and looks at him.

Stiles’s eyes are wide. “You licked me!”

The wolf snorts.

“Okay,” Stiles says. “But every other time you licked me I didn’t know you were a naked man underneath!”

The wolf wags his tail to show the boy he’s amused. It’s a dog trait, not a wolf one, but it’s body language Stiles will understand.

Stiles’s cheeks pink up. His smile fades and he scrubs his eyes with the balls of his hands. “I thought you were dead.”

The wolf moves forward again.

Stiles fingers dig into his ruff, following familiar trails through the thick hair there. He keeps one hand anchored there. He tugs the wolf’s ears gently with his other hand. They take a while to relearn one another, Stiles with his clever fingers and the wolf with his nose and tongue.

“You saved my life,” Stiles whispers at last. “You did that, Derek.”

The wolf leans against him and closes his eyes. He sighs deeply.

“Yeah,” Stiles whispers. “We’re kind of fucked now though, aren’t we?”

***

“I should be terrified right now,” Stiles says.

The dog--wait, the wolf, wait, Derek--lifts his head from Stiles’s lap and looks up at him.

“Not of you.” Stiles rubs his thumb up Derek’s muzzle. “Of everything else but you. I’m not though. I’m not. How crazy is that?”

He’s probably going to die here. Chances are that’s a thing that will happen. But right now, in this moment, Stiles isn’t scared. He’s got Derek back, and he doesn’t feel afraid with Derek by his side.

“You looked after me,” he whispers. “You made sure I was fed, and I was warm, and nobody hurt me. You’re my best friend.”

Derek licks his fingertips.

“I’ve missed this,” Stiles says. “I’ve missed you. But at some point, I guess, I need to talk to naked Derek again.”

Derek huffs.

“Because I need to know what’s going on,” Stiles tells him. “I need to know about the fire, and about Kate, because it wasn’t just you she fucked over, Derek, and shit--” He clears his throat and regroups. “I mean, my dad is alive, so I know this can’t even compare, but I’m caught up in all this too now, and so is Scott, and--”

Derek whines. It sounds a little like a question.

“Scott got bitten,” Stiles says. “By an alpha?”

Derek lays his ears back flat against his skull and growls.

“See?” Stiles chews his bottom lip. “This is why we need to talk, Derek. We need to share information, and try to figure out if there’s any way to actually get the hell out of this mess.”

Derek whines again.

“Maybe we can’t,” Stiles says, and tugs the wolf’s ears. “But I still want to know. I don’t want to die without knowing what I’m dying for.”

Derek sighs and drops his head into Stiles’s lap again.

“I need to know, Derek,” Stiles whispers. He closes his eyes and leans his head back against the cold wall. “I want it to mean something. I want to mean something.”

Because this will probably be his last chance, right?

***

Death watches them from the corner, her pale face drawn. Her eyes are dark. Her smile is sad. She looks more like Laura now than she ever has before.

“Derek,” she says.

The wolf stares at her.

Me, he wants to tell her. Me, but not my boy. Not my pack. Not again.

But death is like moonlight, he knows. She can’t help where she appears, and who her gaze falls upon. Death is not the monster here. She never has been. She is called by forces beyond her control. Death has never been the wolf’s enemy. The wolf is not afraid of her. He has walked too long beside her for fear. He thinks, sometimes, that she is as tired of his company as he is of hers.

Me, but not my boy.

Please.

But the wolf knows that death doesn’t make the choices in this place.

Kate Argent does.

And Kate is far crueler to the wolf than death has ever been.

#sterek #fan fic #teen wolf #hunger #discontentedwinter

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