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in-ky · 3 years

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Hi! I’d love a story about Negan being a serial killer who only kills “bad people” (like in Dexter) and maybe he saves the reader from her ex who’s about to kill her and Negan can save her and takes her in because she’s a mess but she’s actually a killer herself (who kills rapists etc/ only the bad ones) and Negan and the reader start fighting and then get caught up in steamy hot sex 🥵 thank you!

Savior - Negan Killer AU

Warnings: Warnings: GORE + violence, smut, domestic abuse, swearing, dirty talk ig? idk how to tag this lol

A/N: hey! i struggled over this one for a while lol. ive only seen like. 3? episodes of dexter so. i really hope this meets your expectations! also forgive any mistakes its late, im tired, and i wanna get this up lol. also, is negan batman? maybe. 3.7k words

"Will, stop you're hurting me!" I hissed, grabbing at his wrist. He tugged me out of the bustling restaurant and into the dark street.

"I don't really give a shit," He snarled, throwing me into a secluded alleyway a few buildings down from the restaurant. Will had taken me out to a business dinner with his boss in hopes of showing me off and making a good impression. But things didn't quite go according to plan. "You embarrassed me in front of everyone!" He pushed me against the brick wall of the closed department store.

"What was I supposed to do?" I sneered, trying to wiggle away from him "He kept commenting on my body, saying how he wished he could take me home at the end of the night and do all kinds of 'unspeakable things to me'."

"You were just supposed to shut up and take it!" Will said, voice filled with rage "But no, you and your untamable fucking complex just couldn't handle a compliment. You threw your drink in his face! You're lucky he didn't fire me right then and there. You made me look like some pussy who can't control his whore."

"You're an asshole." I shouted, tears welling at the edges of my eyes. Will's face contorted further into a look of pure, unadulterated hatred.

"What the fuck did you just call me?" He seethed, clasping his hand tightly around my throat and constricting his fingers around my airway.

"I said you're an asshole who cares more about his dead-end career than his fucking girlfriend." I croaked. I hated him. I hated him so much. My vision clouded with the combination of disgust, loathing, and lack of oxygen, so I hit him where I knew it hurt. "There's a reason you needed me for arm candy tonight. It's 'cause you're a boring, piece-of-shit, lowlife who has no skill whatsoever. How does it feel knowing you need me to make something of yourself?" With that, he threw me to the ground by my throat. He wasted no time and pinned me to the cold concrete. His knees dug into my shoulders and his hand flew to his back pocket, whipping out the switchblade he carried as a precaution against mugging. My eyes widened as they caught a glint of the moonlight off the sharp knife. He brought the blade up to my throat and slapped me over the cheek harshly with his free hand.

"You better take back those words, bitch," He hissed, pressing the blade into the soft skin of my jugular "or they might just be your last." A dribble of blood ran down my neck with the pressure. Realization flashed through my mind. I could die right then. That could have been my last moment. Was I scared? No. Why wasn't I scared? Maybe it had to do with the shadowy figure that was slowly approaching us from the ally entrance.

There was plenty of time for me to warn Will that someone was coming. But I didn't. Instead, I stayed quiet and watched as the shadow figure pulled Will from my body with ease and tossed him to the side. Everything was kind of a blur. I was still oxygen starved and filled with a whirl-wind of emotion. I heard Will cry out in surprise and indignance. The shadow figure said nothing. It saw the switchblade with a steady line of my blood. It kicked Will in the chest, knocking him to the ground. Then it lifted up a baseball bat over its head and cracked it down over Will's skull. He continued to beat Will until he stopped squirming. The shadow figure paused and swung the bat over his shoulder. I had regained my breath and pushed myself to my elbows. The shadow noticed me moving and took a few heavy steps in my direction. I squirmed away slightly, instincts telling me to get away from the thing that had just pulverized my boyfriend. The shadow entered a stream of moonlight. It was a man. He had peppered hair and a blood-speckled face. He had dark brown eyes and a small smile perched on his lips.

"You okay, sweetheart?" He said. His voice was deep. I was partially surprised. He wasn't a bulky man. He was tall and had a broad frame, but his limbs were long and his body was lithe. He wore a leather jacket and his boots were slick with what I could only assume were Will's brains. I didn't want to look at his bat.

"W-Why did you do that?" I whispered. It was all I could muster.

"He was going to kill you." The man sounded confused, like I was supposed to know who he was and why he saved me.

"You don't know that." My voice was quiet. My eyes were glued to a spot behind the man, unblinking. He let out a throaty chuckle and dropped to a squat, leveling with me.

"Doll, he had a knife pressed to your throat," His words were gentle "Looked like he was gonna fuckin' kill you." He hesitantly reached out two fingers in the direction of my face. I didn't move. He was wearing leather gloves. The ridged fabric ran along my injuries. "Seems like he did some damage before I could step in. Damn. Sorry about that. Listen, I live a few streets down. If you want, I can get you cleaned up."

"Okay," I said softly. I let him help me up to my feet. He guided me along with one arm while holding his bat with the other. As we walked out of the alley I couldn't help but look down at Will, or what remained of him at least. His forehead was split in half, a pool of chunky blood bubbling on the ground. I clenched my jaw and forced myself to swallow the bile that had risen in my throat. And yet, I didn't feel sad. I didn't mourn him. Maybe it was shock, maybe it wasn't. "Thank you?" I murmured, though it was more of a question. The man and I stepped out onto the street and I was grateful there was no one around to see us leaving the scene of a very heinous-looking crime.

"No problem, doll," The man hummed, setting a brisk pace down the sidewalk. "The name's Negan, by the way." Cool. Negan: my Savior.

~~~

"So you're like Batman?" I asked Negan as he dabbed the blood away from my neck. He gave a short chuckle and tore away the sticky part of the band-aid.

"I guess you can say that," he mused, splaying the bandage over the cut the knife had left "but I specifically go for people that I know have hurt others. The baddies, if you will."

"Is that legal?" I tilted my head, crossing my ankles as they dangled over the bathroom counter. My palms were flat on the surface of Negan's marble sink top, fiddling with the wrappers of the medical supplies he had used to clean and bandage my small cuts and bruises.

"I haven't been caught," Negan shrugged "besides, it's less work for the police. They don't have to do any interrogation bullshit or anything. I usually catch people in the act, like tonight. Then I do my thing."

"Do you kill everyone?"

"Only the bad people," He reminded, tossing away a bloody tissue "only people who have hurt others. But, yes, usually the offender ends up on the business end of Lucille over there." He pointed out the door into the living room, where the still-bloody bat rested against a chair. I furrowed my brow.

"Well, doesn't that make you a bad guy?" I pressed. He tapped my knee and I dropped down to the tile floor, tucking my hair behind my ear and gathering some of the scraps.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you still kill people, right? Even if they're bad? So doesn't that still make you a killer?" Negan was quiet for a minute. "Let's put it this way," I continued "What would you do if you came across someone who was like you; someone who hurt the bad people. Would you still kill them. They're hurting people." Negan took a deep breath and let it out with a contemplative sigh, itching his bearded chin.

"I'm not sure," He mused "I've never really thought about it before. See, I don't consider myself a bad person per say. Yea, what I'm doing might be considered fucked up. But I'm doing it for the right reason. I'm protecting people by attacking their attackers. In the end, someone's saved." He brushed off his hands and led me out of the bathroom, flicking the light off. "Would you rather me not have saved you tonight?"

"No," I said immediately "thank you. Really, thank you. You saved my life. Will is...was...always a dick, but I never thought he'd actually hurt me. I guess that proves people can have a whole bunch of layers." Negan nodded and moved to the kitchen. He raised a bottle of whiskey as an offering. I shook my head but he poured himself a glass.

"I was just doing my job," Negan grinned sympathetically "I'm sorry your boyfriend was an asshole who tried to murder you." I shrugged, amusement in my eyes.

"Eh, it happens to everyone." I smiled as he let out another laugh. I felt as if I shouldn't be laughing, but at the same time, everyone has their own responses to almost getting stabbed to death in an alley. So I let myself have this moment. Besides, Negan was a good guy to be around. He made me feel safe, comfortable, secure. Everything I needed right now. "So, Negan, what do you do? Surely vigilante-ing can't pay well, and this apartment is really nice."

"I'm a retired baseball player," Negan said, sipping his whiskey and settling into one of the armchairs in the living room "Hence the bat."

"Were you any good?" I asked. He let out a loud scoff.

"Was I any good?" He mocked "Sweetheart, I have a whole damn trophy room. I was fucking amazing. I just got old."

"So you're rich with no real job, you kill bad guys, and you have a massive ego," I listed "You really are like Batman, aren't you?"

~~~

Negan let me stay on his couch that night. It was leather, like everything else that man seemed to own, but it was comfortable. I woke up to the smell of bacon filling the air. I groaned and rubbed my fists against my eyes, clearing them of sleep. I stretched my arms above my head in a yawn and rolled off the couch, stumbling into the kitchen. Negan was hunched over the bubbling pan, dodging pellets of grease as they shot up at him.

"Smells good!" I purred, closing my eyes and taking a deep inhale.

"Good," He grumbled "You better fucking enjoy it because I've gotten burned at least three times." I laughed and walked up to him examining the small red patches that dotted his arms.

"You didn't have to make me breakfast you know."

"Yea, but I wanted to make sure you were comfortable," He sighed, turning off the stove and scooping the cooked bacon onto a paper towel. "Besides, I was craving some bacon when I woke up. I haven't had someone to share a meal with in a while."

"Well, if you want, you can come by my house for dinner." I offered, crunching down on a piece of bacon "I've been meaning to whip out the family alfredo recipe for a while, maybe a hot date would give me that incentive." I gave him a playful wink and he chuckled.

"Sure thing, doll," He hummed, putting the pan in the sink "I love me some fucking spaghetti. I'll see you around seven?"

"Sounds good."

~~~

I ran down the sidewalk, chest heaving. There was enough darkness to cover me, but I still kept my head down to prevent recognition. I held my hands close to my stomach, praying that the blood on my fingers wouldn't drip on the pavement and leave a trail. I had been on my way home from the store when I heard some commotion coming from an alley. My first instinct was to run, but then I heard the girl crying for help. Negan came to mind, what he did, how he helped people. I couldn't turn away. I marched down the alley and saw a greasy man pinning a woman to the wall of a building. Flashbacks of the night before hit me like a train. I looked on top of the alley dumpster and saw a crowbar perched on one of the lids. I grabbed it and stormed up to the man, whacking him upside the head with the weapon. I kicked him to the side and brought the crowbar over my head before swinging it down. It connected with his face in a sickening 'thwack.' I thought of Will. I thought of what might of happened if Negan had never stopped him. I thought of all the times that bastard had gotten drunk and told me I was nothing. I let the rage bubble up and fuel my beating. By the time I was pulled back into the moment, my muscles were screaming, the woman was gone, and the man's face was unrecognizable. I tossed the crowbar into the dumpster and ran back home.

Dried blood is extremely hard to wash off. It sticks to your skin in flakes, creating a pattern of red veins crawling over your hands. Fuck. I scrubbed as hard as I could under the rushing water of the sink, pumping more and more soap into my hand. It was under my fingernails. It was stuck in my palm prints. Shit, did I leave fingerprints at the scene? Would they be coming for me? With a hiss, I rubbed even harder at my skin, small flecks of blood turning the sink water red.

Suddenly, my door opened.

"I'm ready for my s'getties!" Negan boomed with a wide smile. My head whipped around, looking at him with wide eyes. His grin faded and he crossed the room in record time, grabbing my wrists and turning the sink off. "Is this fucking blood?" He snarled, bringing my hands up to my face. I clenched my jaw and dropped my eyes to my feet. "Jesus, who's is it? Answer me!"

"I-I heard someone screaming on the way home," I said quietly, eyes still downcast "I thought I would help..." His jaw went slack and he let go of my hands, running his fingers through his hair.

"Jesus fuck, you can't just go around killing people!"

"Why not?" I snapped, eyes meeting his "You do it all the time? What's the difference? Why can't I help people?"

"Because it...Because you just can't!" Negan growled, shaking his head.

"Why are you so special?" I hissed back, drying my hands off on a towel before tossing it at him "It's not like you can get a permit for fucking murder. Why do you do it, anyways? Is it some perverted thing? Do you get off on saving people from attackers?"

"Watch yourself." Negan warned, eyes darkening.

"Pfft, or what?" I laughed, tossing my head back "What are you gonna do, kill me? I'm not afraid of you, Negan." As soon as the words left my mouth, he charged me. His hand flew to my throat, squeezing my airway lightly. His hips pressed me against the counter. I let out a small gasp when he shoved his face next to mine.

"Oh, but doll, you really fucking should be." He spat, curling his lip "I could snap your neck right here, right now." He gave a small squeeze to emphasize his words. I let out a strangled moan. We both froze. "Are you turned on right now?" He muttered, furrowing his brow. I licked my lips and squirmed in his grip, pressing my thighs together slightly in an effort to alleviate the warm pressure growing in my belly.

"No," I lied, voice weak. A sinister grin curled over the bottom half of his face and he licked his tongue over his teeth.

"And I'm the perv, huh?" He sucked on my earlobe and peppered kisses down my jawline "Sweetheart, tell me, do you want me to fuck that pretty little pussy of yours? Do you want me to make you cum harder than you ever have?" I whimpered at his dirty mouth. "Use your words, doll, or I'll leave right fucking now."

"Y-Yes!" I breathed as Negan's lips sucked on the sweet spot right beneath my ear.

"Yes, what, princess?"

"Yes, I want you to fuck me, please!" I groaned, clawing at his shirt. He let out a short chuckle, muttering something about how needy I was, but I didn't care. Right now, the only thought running through my head was that I needed Negan. I needed all of him. And damn me if I wasn't going to get it.

We clawed at each other's clothes like rabid animals. Once we were completely bare, Negan moved his kisses down my body. His large, calloused hands kneaded my breasts, twisting my nipples between his thumbs. My arms flew around his neck and I dragged my fingernails up his back. He shivered against my touch and slid his hands further down my body. They settled firmly on my hips as he captured my lips in a fervent kiss.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he grunted, pulling back for air. I looked at him. His tawny eyes were now black, pupils far beyond dilated with lust. Both of our lips were swollen and red from the intensity of our kisses. Negan's chest inflated and deflated quickly as his eyes roamed over my body. "You're so damn perfect." I smiled sheepishly and pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, looking up at him through lidded eyes.

"You're not so bad yourself," I reached out my hand and used my pointer finger to draw a line from his collar bone down the center of his chest and through his navel, finally ending right over his pulsing cock. He sucked in a breath as my fingers closed around him. My thumb swept over the hot tip, gathering precum on the pad of my finger and rubbing it around.

"Shit," He hissed as I slowly pumped him "I'm not gonna fucking last if you keep doing that." He gently pried my hand away and took a step closer to me. I could feel his hardened length resting against the inside of my thigh. The thought of him being so close made a burst of heat rush down between my thighs. Negan took a long finger and ran it through my folds, collecting my wetness. I moaned as he teasingly dipped the first knuckle into me. He pulled back and let out a low whistle. "Damn, girl," he chuckled, raising his finger to my face "You're fucking dripping. Who's that for?" His slick-coated fingers glistened in the light of my apartment. I let out a deep groan as he slid them between his lips and sucked.

"You, Negan!" I whimpered, wrapping my legs around his waist "It's all for you." A wolfish grin spread over his features as he tugged me off him and pulled me down off the counter. He spun me around and pressed gently between my shoulder blades until my chest was flat against the cold surface.

"Then if you don't mind," Negan cooed, lining himself up with my entrance "I'm going to take what belongs to me." With that, he slowly pushed into me. I gasped at the stretch, balling my hands into fists as he continued to split me open.

"Fucking shit," he groaned once he bottomed out "you're tight as hell. I bet you've never had a dick as big as mine." He pulled out slightly and I let out a moan at the growing emptiness inside. The moan soon turned to a yelp when he brought down his hand against my ass. The smack was loud and he rubbed the red spot tenderly. "Have you?"

"N-No!" I gasped when he thrusted into me for the first time "Never. Fuck, you feel so good." Negan's thrusts sped up, his hips snapping against my ass in an obscene rhythm. Grunts and moans of pleasure slipped from both of our lips as he plowed unapologetically into me. I could feel every inch of him. He was hitting every spot, dragging against my walls in a sinfully perfect way.

"You're doing so good," He purred, kissing and biting my shoulder "So good for me. You're so perfect." I tossed my head back and he grabbed my chin, tilting my face towards him so he could give me another bruising kiss. I could only keep up for so long, though, and the white bliss of pleasure he was giving me soon became overwhelming. My jaw went slack and my head dropped against the cool tile of the counter in an attempt to ground myself in the moment. "I want you to cum, doll, cum around me. Wanna feel those walls squeeze me." His thrusts were starting to become sloppy and I could tell he was getting to his end. One of his fingers danced down my spine and found its way to my clit. He circled it with just enough pressure to get me to the edge that I was so willing to jump off. "Now." Negan growled. I obeyed, feeling the band in my lower abdomen snapping violently. We reached our releases simultaneously. My walls clenched around him, milking him of every drop. I screwed my eyes shut and screamed his name, holding in a large breath as the world around me spun. Negan eventually pulled himself out and collapsed on top of me. We both were breathing heavily, sweaty bodies entangled as well as we could over a counter. I swallowed, my throat dry from panting through my orgasm. When my eyes fluttered open, I could see Negan's thumb tracing circles over the love bites that were starting to darken on my shoulders.

"Are you going to kill me?" I rasped, running a hand through my wild hair "I guess I'm a bad person now." Negan chuckled, still out of breath.

"I think I'll make an exception," He mused, pressing a sweet kiss to the shell of my ear "I don't think I'm ready to let you go just yet."

#negan x reader #negan x y/n #negan smut #negan x you #negan smith #au!negan #the walking dead #twd smut #twd negan

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acockius · 5 years

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a christmas cliche.

here is my Thank God It’s Christmas gift for the lovely @justasupersonicwoman! i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it. it was lovely to get to know you a bit. major thanks to @dtfrogertaylor for another successful gifting event. we all adore you.

gwilym lee x reader;; 2,012 words;; no warnings

It didn’t feel like Christmas. For someone who always had their tree up and fully decorated by the first of December at the latest, you were certainly lacking the Christmas spirit this year. Everyone was well aware as to how much you loved Christmas. However, your mood as the big day came closer rivaled that of the Grinch. You were trying your very best to put up a front, but it was clear that you were having difficulty navigating your favorite holiday season on your own.

Your boyfriend was currently away filming a movie, and it wouldn’t wrap until just before Christmas Eve. This wasn’t anything new for you; you’d been together for quite a while now and Gwilym had been absent for extended periods times over the course of your relationship - just never during the holidays. You were very supportive of his career, and understood why he couldn’t be there, but it didn’t make it any easier.

You’d spent Thanksgiving with your family, which in theory, was enjoyable. You hated having to answer questions as was to where Gwilym was, and what he was filming, and how cool it must be to be dating an actor. You’d navigated all of those questions with the best of ease until your Aunt Lucille piped up with a degrading statement.

“Maybe if you’re lucky, he’ll marry you.”

For your family’s sake, you made light of it. if you were good at doing anything, it was masking your feelings. You were beginning to think that you should get into the acting business yourself. After the guests had vacated your parents’ house, the comment hung over your head like a dark cloud. You were curious as to what your loved ones thought after having spent three Christmases with Gwil, without any certainty of the future. You loved him, and you know that he loved you, but did he love you enough to want to spend the rest of his life with you?

As the days slowly passed by in December, the more bitter you became. You were thankful to have small conversations with Gwilym when he had a moment free, but they were becoming few and far between as December arrived He blamed it on the production working hard to get the movie wrapped so that they could get everyone home in time for the holidays. He swore he’d make it up to you, but the poor bastard had no idea how hard he’d have to work to do so.

A distraction was needed, so you did your best to throw yourself into work, but that even proved to be tricky. You had to go out of just to get there and back, as you were doing your best to avoid the town centre. The square stood smack dab between your metro stop and your office building, and it was filled with market stalls, a gigantic tree lit with thousands upon thousands of lights, and a skating rink. People from near and far gathered to explore the shoppes for small trinkets, pose with their loved ones for photos under the tree, and hold each other for dear life while they pretended they knew how to ice skate. Does anyone even really know how to ice skate? Your girlfriends had invited you on a ladies’ only adventure to take part in the area’s festivities, but it made you feel pitiful, so you declined their invitation. On the bright side, walking out of the way every day only contributed to your daily workout.

You were beginning to notice that people were willing to profess their love during the holiday season more than any other time of the year. Logging into social media to see another friend posting an engagement photo or their pregnancy announcement seemed to be a daily occurrence. Suddenly, elf on the shelf shenanigans were no longer funny to you and if you saw another cute pet dressed in a Christmas outfit, you were going to snap your phone in half. A social media hiatus, it was.

What you loved most about the holidays were the movies that seemed to play on a loop across several television channels and the songs that flooded the airways starting the week of Thanksgiving. After a while, you had to monitor what you did and didn’t watch or listen to. Your favorite movie, Love Actually? Completely off the table, as it made you long for Gwil even more than usual. You had to switch back to your usual playlist for a few days after The Eagles “Please Come Home for Christmas” brought upon a weeping episode. You found contentment with comedies such as Home Alone and Christmas Vacation, with an occasional viewing of the cartoon version of The Grinch thrown in. And as long as the Christmas song didn’t have to do with love, you were happy to listen to it.

Gwilym still wasn’t sure as to whether or not he’d make it home in time for Christmas. To say that it broke your spirit was an understatement. You were debating booking a last-minute ticket to spend the holiday with your parents, but they discouraged it. Why couldn’t they realize that you didn’t want to be alone?

You sat at your desk on the day before Christmas Eve, staring out the window when one of the secretaries brought you a package. You began to tear it open, but before you finished, your phone began to ring. You nearly dropped the package when you saw Gwilym’s number on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Hello, darling. Did you get what I sent you?” Gwilym asked.

“I’m actually in the middle of opening something now.” You held the phone between your shoulder and ear and pulled out a boarding pass. “A plane ticket... to Zurich?”

“That’s right. How’d you fancy spending the holiday with me in Switzerland?”

A few of your coworkers lingered outside of your office, looking in and eavesdropping.

“Gwilym Lee... What are you up to?”

“Come to Zurich and find out.”

The line went dead and you hung up the phone. Your work friends cautiously entered your office and took the rest of your work for the day, seemingly a part of whatever grand scheme that Gwilym had cooked up. You were met downstairs by a driver who was there to provide you with a ride to the airport, equipped with a packed bag, courtesy of one of your best friends. When you texted your group chat to find out who was the culprit, they all just wished you a good trip. You made a quick call to your parents on the way to the airport to say that you’d be in Switzerland for Christmas, but they already knew. Was everyone in on this Christmas surprise?

When you got to the airport and finished making you way through security, you had only 45 minutes before your plane would board. You were directed to the airline’s lounge - equipped with plushy chairs, champagne, televisions, and snacks. Everyone addressed you as “Mrs. Lee” but you were quick to correct them, more amused than bitter about it. You were too nervous to eat or drink anything but you enjoyed the privacy as you worked through your nerves. The feeling hadn’t subsided even after you were seated in first class, being offered champagne again by a stewardess who addressed you again as Mrs. Lee. You wound up working yourself up so much that you feel asleep from stressing yourself out and sleeping nearly the whole way there.

When you arrived at the airport on Christmas Eve, there was a driver waiting with a sign that said, “Mrs. Lee”. You corrected the man too, but you were beginning to think that Gwilym did this on purpose. Did he think you’d be treated better if people thought you were his wife? You tried not to dwell, as you were so close to being reunited with your man. Nothing could ruin that.

The driver took you to a secluded cabin, surrounded by the most beautiful landscape. It had just turned to dusk, and was cold enough for a few snowflakes to fall. You hadn’t seen snow yet this year, and it seemed to be the perfect time for the first coating. As you approached the cabin, you saw a beautifully Christmas tree lit with bright white bulbs in the window. You could even smell the pleasant aroma of the wood burning fireplace. You had to roll your eyes, because it was a true Christmas cliche. It was everything you’d been fighting the entire season long.

The door to the cabin creaked open when you entered, setting your luggage right by the door. You took off your coat and hung it on the hook, settling yourself with a deep breath. You were stunned to see Gwilym when you turned around, adorned in maroon sweater and tan slacks.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Gwilym’s grin caused the skin around his eyes to crinkle slightly, and you felt your heart swell at the sight.

You ran to him, practically tackling him as you wrapped your arms around him tightly. Gwilym’s hand rested on the back of your head, cradling it when you finally looked up at him. He kissed you deeply, and you thought you couldn’t miss a feeling as much as you missed your lips against his.

“Gwil....” You voice wavered and eye filled with tears. Gwilym quietly shushed you, his free hand caressing your cheek.

“Come.” Gwilym advised, taking your hand in his. “There’s fresh hot chocolate and I believe the cookies I baked are still warm.

“Is it swiss hot chocolate?” You playfully raised your eyebrows, earning you an airy laugh.

“Of course it is!” Gwilym guided you into the kitchen, unveiling an incredible spread of Christmas treats.

You beamed, playfully nudging Gwilym’s side. “You’ve outdone yourself, Mr. Lee.”

“Only the best for you, Mrs. Lee...”

You giggled, leaving Gwilym’s side to go and fix yourself a mug of hot cocoa.

“What was that about?” you mused, pouring the hot liquid into a clear mug. You began to add marshmallows and peppermint to your drink before grabbing the whipped cream.

“Everyone was calling me that. Did you tell them to do that or something?” You took a little sip to not burn your tongue, coating your top lip in whipped cream.

“I think it has a nice ring to it.” Gwilym rebutted, voice strong and smooth.

“Okay, but I’m not your wife.” You reminded him, licking your lip clean.

When you finally turned your attention back to Gwilym, your eyes darted down the mid level, where Gwilym was down on one knee. He had a velvet box in his hands, showcasing a sparkling diamond.

“It never occurred to me how much I could long for you while being apart during the holidays. From what I’ve heard, these past few weeks haven’t been easy on you either. I can’t promise my career won’t take me away again during these months but what I can promise is that I’ll be working hard to build a life for us and the family I hope that we’ll have. If you’d do me the honor of being my wife.”

Gwilym’s blue eyes seemed to pierce through your entire body as he waited for an answer. You certainly didn’t expect for your wretched holiday to end like this. You’d harbored such an anger for this man while he was away and let the monster known as loneliness consume you. it was the reassurance that Gwilym was yours that changed the terms of the situation.

“Please say something...” Gwilym nervously mumbled.

“Of course I’ll be your wife.” You beamed, setting your hot cocoa down so that Gwilym could place the ring on your finger.

This time, you did tackle him to the ground. You kissed him, letting go of the pent up aggression and emotion that you’d been harboring since Gwilym was gone as your lips moved against his. When you finally did pull away, you pressed your forehead against his and smiled.

“Mrs. Lee does have a nice ring to it.”

#tgic #thank god it's christmas #my fic #gwilym lee x reader #merry christmas #happy new years

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cxdemistake · 6 years

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| So, like I said before, this is a post on the basics of my sex-repulsion and how it connects to my muses. Some TMI under the cut (and it’ll probably be long as fuck) so here we go:

Background on my sex-repulsion: I’ve been sex-repulsed for as long as I’ve known what sex is and how it works. Personally, I don’t see myself ever having sex. I’ve never wanted to. Even something that isn’t considered sex, like masturbation, is mostly out of the picture for me, because with the way my brain works, anytime I desire something even remotely sexual (like what’s mentioned above), I feel immense guilt and I have a depressive episode, of which the length depends-- on what is beyond me, but it depends.

Sex in general is a giant trigger for me. There’s nothing in my past that has caused me to feel this way-- I already got an anon asking about this, no, I was not raped or molested, no, I am not repressing anything. Nothing happened to me. It’s a phobia, like arachnophobia or scopophobia, and why people are able to tag those without any problems but not think that my own phobia is valid is beyond me.

What happens when I read smut, see a random sex gif, or have someone talk about sex to me is pretty much what you’d expect from someone with a phobia (which I am)-- I feel sick to my stomach, usually I feel like I want to rip my skin off, I shake, I dissociate, all that great, wonderful stuff. And I can count at least 5 times in the past year that this has happened, because of untagged/uncovered smut. Seriously, guys, just tag it. It takes less than a second and it prevents triggering on my part.

Recently I had someone tell me that I act like I hate people who have sex... idk where anyone read that, but that’s literally like the opposite of me. I’m not equipped to hate people. I couldn’t even hate my own dad during the time that I wasn’t speaking with him after he told me he would disown me, I’m just that bad at hating. (Note: Obviously that situation is much better.) If you have sex, great! If you don’t, same! If you love sex, awesome! If you hate sex, I feel! But if you hate people who choose either to have it or not, then you’re a prick, and you should probably leave me alone, bc clearly we won’t get along.

When it comes to smut, idc if you write it or don’t, or enjoy it or don’t, just like with sex. The problem comes when people decide not to tag it, because, like I said up there, things happen when I catch a glimpse of smut. Once again, just tag it, it isn’t that difficult. I don’t hate anyone for writing it, because tbh, I’m jealous of people that can write about something so intimate without feeling the need to rip their eyes out or tear their stomach open. If you understand how genitals work, great, I’m 22 and a trans guy and I still don’t understand a damn thing about mine or why I need them, so you’re already way ahead of me. If you write it, tag it and everything will be fine and dandy in Alistair-Land.

When it comes to my muses, pretty much all of them are inherently asexual, like me. This comes more naturally for a few muses, some examples being Gamzee, Ellis, and Connor.

Gamzee is a troll, from Homestuck (obviously), whose species’ romance occurs in “quadrants”, each “quadrant” being based off of a suit of cards. A basic description is this: hearts(Red)=true romance, diamonds(Pale)=platonic soulmates, spades(Black)=hateship, and clubs(Grey)=hateship with a mediator. We don’t see anyone having sex in the comics, and while Gamzee has a nice Black relationship going for a while, trolls don’t seem to have sex until it’s time to... breed, you could say.

Ellis is from Left 4 Dead 2, and we’re not given much backstory on him. if you ask a couple of people I’ve written him with, there’s quite a few reasons why I consider him ace, and the only girl he ever talks about in a romantic way? Zoey. The only other woman he meets on his journey, and he calls her an angel. I doubt this boy has had much sexual experience, if any, and that’s perfectly fine. It’s probably why he talks about Zoey the way he does.

Connor is from Detroit: Become Human, and he is an android. There are specified models (ex: Tracis) that are used for sex, and therefore I don’t think that normal models, or even prototypes like Connor, are built with genitalia. Therefore, he is basically a Ken Doll down there. In addition, while I will ship him romantically with anyone (including Hank, though I’ll also do it platonically), I feel that Connor craves love (whether platonic, familial, or romantic), but not necessarily sex. He’s just learning how to be human, after all.

Keep in mind, these are my OPINIONS, and how I portray my muses.

When it comes to a muse that is canonically sexual in nature, like Negan, things are a bit different.

With Negan, from The Walking Dead, it’s all about what happens that we see. What we do see is Negan bragging about fucking his wives, kissing some of them, holding them close, etc. But we never see any sex scenes. Obviously, TWD’s comic has a ton of sex scenes, but weirdly enough, never any with Negan. He makes sexual advances, jokes, and things like that, but he never acts on them on-screen or on-page. My Negan basically keeps his harem of wives for power-- when the man’s got your wife, you’re probably going to listen to him. In return for being treated well, they keep up the facade and counsel him when he needs it. He’s ace for a single reason-- Lucille. While he can still find comfort in someone else’s arms, after his affair while Lucille had cancer, he resolved to not sleep with anyone again, because he doesn’t want to cheat on her further.

My boundaries are simple: no sex of any kind, and no touching genitals. And I can’t understand why some people think that any affectionate action, like a kiss, or a bite to the neck, or running a hand up someone’s shirt, is inherently sexual. I write those actions as affection or flirtiness, and, y’know, there’s an easy way to make sure your muse isn’t aroused-- by not writing that they are. I’m pretty sure that’s what most of my partners have done in the past, is taken what they know is sexual, and suppressed it when they write something ship-related with me. If there’s no possible way you can do that... it’s not hard. It doesn’t take long to figure out what’s appropriate and inappropriate to write.

In conclusion: I hate being sex-repulsed, I wish I wasn’t, if you love sex or smut then I support you (just tag smut and pls don’t talk about sex to me), my muses are inherently ace, and there’s no sex of any kind or genital touching on this blog. Thank. |

#I really hope I figured out how to actually word this shit #someone tell me if something doesn't make sense #; boy of a n g u i s h (alistair)

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dangertronic · 6 years

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Not A Monster Chapter 21

Since the tag system has been a nightmare lately chapter twenty can be found here in case you missed it.

Ao3 Link

Taggity Tags: @sten-bros @agrimny @areyareddie @creamy-brown-eyes @soomar-wine @deamontesnothere @jakethezombiehunter @thetrashvoid @trippy-alexissss

Twenty One

May came far too quickly for Richie’s liking, mostly because he had an inability to sit still and be silent for a long period of time, and their exams (which were being held in the assembly hall away from the distractions that a classroom would bring) required him to do just that.

The examiner, a very old and stern looking lady, opened the door and peered at the mass of students waiting to take their exam from behind a pair of thick rimmed glasses, raising a hand to adjust them slightly.

“From the second you enter the hall, you are to be completely silent.” She said, crossing her arms over her chest. “You will all be seated in alphabetical order, and table will have a card with your name printed onto it. Find the one with your name, and take a seat. If you need help finding your table, you may ask for help. Your exam will start promptly at eleven and then finish at twelve. You may enter.”

The examiner stepped back into the hall and they followed, finding their name cards and taking their seats at the small one-by-one desks that had a booklet on them face down. Richie took his seat, leg bouncing somewhat anxiously under the table as he stared at the booklet on the table in front of him.

“Calm the fuck down.” Stan hissed from his seat directly behind Richie, low enough that the examiner couldn’t hear him while they were helping someone to find their desk. “You’re gonna do fine, Rich.”

Richie snorted, and looked up at the clock hanging at the front of the room. All he had to do was make it until twelve and his first hellish exam would be over. Chancing a quick look around the room, he could see Eddie one row to his left near the front, drumming his fingers against the desk in front of him nervously.

Jessica was one row over from Eddie, a few seats further back from him, staring at the clock as though its very existence offended her. Mike was in the same row as Jessica, separated only by one person at the table between them, staring down at the back of the exam booklet while mouthing something to himself, mostly likely the notes he felt he might need in the upcoming exam.

The examiner moved to the front of the room and looked down at her watch, staring intently at the face for a moment. “Turn over your booklets and begin.”

Richie flipped over his booklet, taking a moment to be thankful that the exam was on Of Mice and Men since it was the last book they’d studied and the one that was freshest in his mind, flicking the booklet open and picking up the pencil that had been laid out for them on the desks.

What do Steinbeck’s first descriptions of George and Lennie tell us about their characters? Is there anything which he writes about Lennie which leads us to believe that he has the mind of a child?

Richie read over the question a few times, tapping his pencil against the crisp clear page of the booklet. He glanced up to see that Eddie was scribbling away in the booklet, a smile coming to his face.

Eddie had been driving himself insane with his studying, and his nerves had boiled to the point that he’d started to get snappy with everyone around him as he tried to make a year’s worth of education stick into his head; Richie included.

Jessica had stopped writing and was now twiddling her pencil between her fingers idly as she tried to think of the answer to whatever question she was on while Mike was scribbling away furiously in what Richie could only describe as a panicked frenzy.

“Place your pencils down and turn your booklets face down on the desk.” The examiner said when the clock reached midday, followed by the sound of pencils clattering onto desks and booklets being closed and turned over. “You may leave the hall quietly.”

One by one, the rows of students stood and left the hall, some of them in small groups of two of three; not wanting to be separated from their friends. Jessica, Mike, and Eddie met up at the far side of the hallway against a set of lockers where they waited for Richie and Stan.

“I hate literature.” Mike said, leaning back so that his head met the locker behind him with a low clang. “Take literature, Richie suggested. It’ll be fun and easy to do, he said. Well it wasn’t fun or easy.”

“You really think you did that badly?” Jessica asked, tapping the tip of her foot against the floor idly as she scanned the crowd of students emerging from the hall.

“Probably.” Mike said, shifting and placing his hands behind his head. “Bill said the literature exam was gonna be hard but did I listen? No, of course I didn’t.”

Eddie furrowed his brow. “Bill said – oh right, yeah. He had the exam yesterday with Ben and Lucille.”

Jessica heaved a sigh, planting her head onto Eddie’s shoulder. “Lucille lied to me. She said that exam was easy.”

Eddie snorted, raising a hand and petting at Jessica’s head idly. “I feel like you forget you’re dating a genius sometimes.”

Jessica nodded with a yawn. “I do. Far too much.”

“Damn Eds, you cheatin’ on me?” Richie asked as he joined them, a playful smirk on his face. “And with a girl?”

“Well maybe if you left the exam hall quick enough I wouldn’t have to seek comfort in Jess.” Eddie teased, an equally playful smirk coming to his face. “It’s not my fault she’s here in my time of need and you weren’t.”

Stan arched a brow at this, looking between Eddie and Jessica. “If anything it looks like Jess is the one seeking comfort in you, not the other way around. Aw, did you have a tough time back there, Link?”

Jessica scowled at him. “If you make that name stick I’m going to make sure that Richie’s Staniel name is printed into the yearbook, asshole.”

“You can do that?” Mike asked, peering around Eddie to look at Jessica.

“Sure I can. The Yearbook and its contents are my domain. It’s up to me what goes in there and what doesn’t.”

“There’s no way you’d get away with that.” Stan said.

“You want a bet?” Jessica asked, standing upright. “Oh, I’m sorry, I guess the person I was training to take over for me when I graduate made a typo and no one caught it.”

“I hate you.”

“Love you too Staniel.”

Stan groaned, and the five of them started to walk off down the hallway, Jessica still awkwardly leaning against Eddie.

“I envy the fact that most of you don’t take history.” Eddie said as they headed towards the social studies room to wait for Bill and Lucille. “You don’t have to go back in there after lunch.”

“But we do have that math exam this afternoon.” Richie pointed out, slinging an arm awkwardly around Eddie’s shoulders.

“Yeah well, Jess, Stan, and I are all in there three times today!” Eddie complained.

“It’s like I died and got stuck in high school hell for a punishment.” Stan said. “Or maybe it’s limbo. If it was hell, Richie would be in every exam with me.”

Jessica snorted, finally pushing herself up off Eddie as the bell rang. “I hear that.”

“You guys are terrible when you’re stressed.” Richie huffed, releasing Eddie as students began to file out of their classrooms.

“Let me guessss.” Lucille said, slinging an arm around Jessica as she joined them. “Poor babies had a hard time this morning in their exam?”

“I didn’t. I finished that exam in thirty minutes.”

“I fucking hate you Richie.” Jessica hissed.

“That’s it, I’m leaving you for Jess.” Eddie grumbled.

“Aw come on Eds –”

“Nope, that’s it, he’s ours now!” Jessica said, hooking an arm around Eddie’s and pulling him closer. “Right Lucille?”

Lucille grinned, ruffling at Eddie’s hair affectionately. “I get a cuddly toy and a girlfriend? Living the dream over here. How could you ever let this boy go, Richie?”

“I know, right?” Jessica asked, playfully pinching Eddie’s cheek with a grin. “He’s just so wonderful but you had to go and ruin it for yourself. We’ll be sure to take really good care of him since you no longer can.”

“I’m starting to really hate you three.” Richie muttered.

Eddie snorted, detaching his arm from Jessica’s and walking over to where Richie stood. After quickly checking that the hallway was empty of students aside from his friends, he leaned up and pressed his mouth against Richie’s with a soft hum.

“I’m just teasing you, Rich. Took me this long to get you. Do you think I’d leave so soon?”

Richie grinned, curling his arms around Eddie’s waist and rocking him slightly. “You hear that Jess? Get your own!”

“Oh no, I have no boyfriend, whatever will I do?” Jessica asked.

Stan let out a loud laugh. “Holy shit that was like looking into a mirror.”

“Are you saying you’re a girl, Staniel?” Richie asked, leaning towards Stan. “Is there something you need to tell us?”

Stan shoved Richie away with a smile. “If I was a girl, which I can assure you that I’m not, I’d be a damn good girl and you know it.”

“Well, you’re already a better girl than me.” Jessica teased.

“That’s it. I’m cancelling your playdates with Richie.”

“Did you just ground me?” Jessica asked. “You’re not my dad, Stan!”

“Someone should be.”

Jessica opened her mouth to respond, pausing for a moment before she closed it again. “Alright, okay, yeah. Sorry Richie, dad won’t let me play with you anymore.”

Richie snorted, slinging an arm around Eddie. “What your dad doesn’t know can’t hurt him, Jess. We’ll just have to do the whole sneaking out in the dead of night.”

“And how well does that actually work for you in regards to Eddie?” Stan asked.

Richie tilted his head to the side thoughtfully, humming softly. “Pretty well actually… though I did almost break my ankle last night scrambling out of his window. I hate that Sonia’s room is right next to Eddie’s.”

“But you didn’t break anything.” Eddie pointed out.

“True…” Richie mused, tilting his head down to pack at the top of Eddie’s head. “Guess that means I’m healthy enough to sneak in again tonight once Sonia goes to bed.”

After lunch, the group split with Jessica, Stan, Eddie, and Ben all heading to the assembly hall for their next exam. Once again they found themselves looking for name cards on the rows of desks, taking their seats.

From his seat, Stan could see all three of them; Jessica directly behind Ben and beside Eddie who was seated right in front of Greta. Charlie was seated right in front of Stan, and he was definitely a welcomed change to Richie who had been bouncing his leg so much out of nerves that it had become distracting to Stan while he’d been trying to do his exam that morning.

The most Charlie did was drum his fingers against the desk anxiously which Stan knew would stop the moment the exam started.

“I can’t believe they’re going to be in that exam hall all day.” Lucille said, absently turning a page in the text book she was reading from.

During the hours they didn’t have exams they were required to have extra study time, and not wanting to have to be absolutely silent or else bring down the librarian’s wrath, they had opted for sitting at the edge of the football field in the sun.

“My poor Eds is going to be the most stressed chaotic bundle in existence this week.” Richie sighed, throwing himself onto his back on the grass with his hands propped under his head. “You know, more than usual.”

Lucille snorted, turning another page in her math book. “Jess is the same.”

“Stuh-Stan too.” Bill said, looking up from his text book.

“Maybe we should take a day off this weekend from all this studying.” Mike suggested, closing his text book with a slam. “We could spend a day relaxing. We all need it, those three more than us.”

“Yeah, okay.” Richie said, staring up at the clear sky above. “You just go and tell Eddie you want him to take a day off of studying for the most important exams of our lives and tell me how that works out for you.”

Bill nodded his agreement, returning his attention to his book. “Stan wouh- wouldn’t agree to that either.”

“Why do those idiots insist of driving themselves insane?” Lucille asked, shaking her head. “Especially Stan. He’s already made it into Yale. He doesn’t need to murder his brain anymore like this.”

“That’s just it though.” Richie said, bending one leg up and resting the other over it as he closed his eyes. “Just getting into Yale isn’t enough for him. He wants to start there with one of the best records the place has ever seen.”

Bill crossed his legs, dragging his text book into his lap. “Weh-well he doesn’t need to drive the rest of us insane with him. Du-did Jess and Eh-Eddie get their acceptance letters back yet?”

Richie hummed. “Eddie did, it’s off to sunny L.A for me and him.”

“Yuh-you know, you could have guh-gone to Yale too.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Richie asked. “Eddie didn’t want to go there, and I wasn’t about to go to a place where he wasn’t gonna be.”

“That’s sickeningly adorable.” Mike muttered, turning a page in his book. “So what about Jess? Did she get hers back?”

Lucille nodded. “She did indeed. It surprises me that Richie didn’t know that considering I was there when she called Eddie to tell him the good news.”

“What?” In one swift movement, Richie was sitting upright, hands in his lap and glasses askew. “What good news?”

Lucille grinned. “She’s off to LA too so she was looking into some off campus apartments and she asked Eddie if you two wanted to share one with her because there was no way in hell either one of them would ever sleep in a gross dormitory bed.”

“I feel like you might have ruined some awesome surprise.” Mike said.

“Nu-no.” Bill said, shaking his head. “That’s not an Eddie kind of surprise. I thuh-think with all the exam stress lately they just fuh-forgot to say anything.”

“That sounds about right.” Lucille said, reaching over and adjusting Richie’s glasses for him. “I think you need to de-stress your boyfriend, Rich.” She moved her hands to his hair, attempting to somewhat tame the unruly curls. “Jess tells me that lavender oils are really good for that. It’s up to you how to use that information to help Eddie.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll find a way.” Richie said, playfully batting her hand away. “Can you stop fixing my appearance now, mom?”

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #leighwritesathing #we're getting pretty close to the end now #something like 2 or three more chapters #my baby is almost finished and all grown up #and yes beverly is coming back again soon #so enjoy that knowledge

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neganandblake · 7 years

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I think I liked you better when you didn't have a knife in your hand, Peaches...................... Chapter 98- Jeez, you mind stealin’ the damn covers a bit more, Darlin’?!

When Blake finds herself sold out to the Saviours by her abusive fiancé, she realises that she's certainly not on her own anymore and finds an unlikely friend in Negan. And Negan does NOT like men who beat their girlfriends, one tiny bit…

MASTERLIST

Chapter 98 - Jeez, you mind stealin’ the damn covers a bit more, Darlin’?

[Blake and Negan both wake up with THE most terrible hangovers... FUN/FLUFFY chapter]

Blake gave a groan as a sharp pain sliced through her temples.

"Ughhh," she moaned out gently, blinking her eyes open, only to scrunch them tightly shut again, at the dull morning light, that was currently shining in through the large window at the far end of her room.

She shifted down uner the covers, turning over and instantly feeling a warm body beside her, stirring slowly beneath the sheets.

"Holy fuckin' hell," came Negan's sudden grizzled voice, Blake hearing him drag a hand down his scratchy, bearded face. "I feel like shit."

But the caramel-blonde woman, giving another moan out, merely ignored him and nuzzled her face into her pillow.

She was in her room, she knew that much, but the events of the previous evening were still pretty fuzzy in her head….something about a cut up foot and stolen wine.

Blake couldn't even remember getting back to her room. But despite this, she was still happy that Negan had spent the night here with her.

She gave a huge stretch now, before letting out a difficult sigh and opening her bleary eyes.

It looked like early morning, but even so, the bright grey light was enough to make her pounding head feel about a million times worse.

And by the looks of the dark-haired man in bed beside her, he was fairing no better with his own hangover.

"Shit, I mean, I know I have said this a thousand fuckin' times," he groaned out. "But I am never fuckin' drinkin' again…"

Blake pursed her lip. If she had had the energy, she would have rolled her eyes, not believing for one second that Negan would ever give up drinking as long as he lived.

"I don't even remember going to sleep," she soon murmured, giving a small yawn now, as she glanced beneath the sheets at her half-naked from, clothed now, in just her lacy underwear. "Did we have sex last night?"

But Negan gave a gruff huff, smacking his bearded lips together and raising an eyebrow.

"Nope," he said matter-of-factly, tugging at the covers a little. "You had a goddamn gigglin' fit, an' in all honesty we were both probably too fuckin' wasted to have carried on with that shit anyway."

Blake gave a hum of almost-recognition, a bleary memory of uncontrollable laughter appearing in her clouded mind.

"Hmmm…" she murmured out, musing, just as Negan gave a loud growl of annoyance.

"Jesus, Sweetheart," he said in a loud, carrying voice, that caused Blake to wince in annoyance. "You wanna steal the goddamn covers a bit more?!"

But Blake tutted, relenting a little of the white sheet she was currently clutching over her body.

"Well, sooooOOoooorry!" she snapped back in a huffy voice. "It's not my fault you take up most of the bed."

But Negan's dark brows shot immediately up into his hairline as he offered Blake an incredulous look of utter disbelief at what she was saying.

"Me?!" she retorted. "I ain't the one who likes to spread out like a goddamn starfish when I sleep, Darlin'!"

Blake smirked a little but turned her head away trying to hide it from the dark-haired leader of the Saviours, not wanting him to know he had a good point, instead reaching up and grabbing an old bottle of water from her nightstand.

Was it wrong for there to be butterflies in her stomach right now?

Probably.

But even so, just the way that she and Negan knew one another and their habits so well now, made her happy.

She knew very well, that sound Negan made in the back of his throat when Blake did oh-so many dirty things to him….

…she knew his scent….musky and heady, like a burning wood fire and dark whisky…

….and she knew that look he got in his eye sometimes when he thought she wasn't looking….that look that told her that she would always be his, and he would always be hers.

But Blake shook herself a little now, unscrewing the cap off of her bottle and pulling it to her lips.

They were just friends…

Ok, friends who have sex and sleep in each other's beds….

Friends who care oh-so completely about the other…

But all the same…just friends…

For that's all it could be in this world.

Blake loved those women downstairs too much to ask him to give them up now. They needed his protection, and as long as they held their titles of wife-to-Negan, they would always be safe…their families would always be looked after…

But it was because of that fact that Blake could never become one of them. She didn't need Negan's protection. She could fend for herself….

And she knew that no matter how much she wanted it to be true. She would never be the only woman in his life.

He was probably too proud and had too much of a reputation to uphold to allow her to be that.

And so they would stay like this for as long as Blake could bare. That was her decision now.

Because in reality, this life of theirs wouldn't last long.

Both of them could be dead tomorrow….

….barely remembered in ten years' time…

So they would have fun today….to ties…not even to each other….

….no family…no children…

…because that was the way of the world. Cruel and hard.

And Blake had to just deal with that…

…. instead, enjoying these small moments, where she would pretend, for just a second, that they were together, for real, living in a big house in the suburbs with a couple of kids and a dog downstairs….happy.

She took a long sip of water before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, as Negan took the bottle from her grasp swigging down a few long gulps of his own, before passing it swiftly back to her…

...just as their came a hard knock upon the door.

Blake gave a groan.

God, that was the downside of sleeping with Negan…having him be constantly in demand. For she knew that it was very doubtful that that knock would be for her.

But even so, she gave a small sigh now, making to lift the sheet slightly and shift over to the edge of the bed and hop out.

But before she could do so, she felt a sudden growl in her ear and a warm hand tug swiftly at her waist, pulling her backwards.

And Blake, giving the smallest squeal of laughter, felt Negan' pull her back down against the mattress once more, taut against his own body, as his lips found her ear through her mountain of caramel-hair.

"Let me fuckin' get up, Doll-face," he murmured in a low, gentlemanly voice, making Blake feel warm inside and completely and utterly protected, as he pressed a weary, yet gentle, kiss to her shoulder, before heaving himself up off of the bed.

He gave a groan at this, grasping up his abandoned t-shirt from the floor, before tugging it over his head and snatching up Lucille from the couch as he went.

Blake propped herself up onto her elbows to watch him admiringly, his face set into a deep scowl at this most recent disturbance of their alone time, as he soon tugged open the door to Blake's room.

From her position on the bed, Blake could just about make out the blonde figure of Dwight, stood on the other side, looking a little sheepish, but even so, his head was held high and defiant.

"Negan," he said firmly. "Sorry to disturb you-"

Blake smiled to herself now, loving the fact that of course, Negan's men had known where to find him. God, were she and him really that predictable?

But Negan, his jaw clenched tightly, suddenly bashed the spiky end of his baseball bat against the open doorframe, causing Blake to wrinkle her nose at the harsh sound and shuffle back down under the covers once more.

"D," he said simply. "Whatever it is, I have got a hell of fuckin' hangover, and a super-hot girl in bed behind me. So unless it's life or fuckin' death right now, Dwight, it can goddamn wait."

But Dwight merely stayed standing where he was.

"Sir, we've got an orange situation…" uttered the blonde man bluntly. "Tony's gone. With his wife and kid, and they've taken six guns between them. Word from one of the outposts is, that they've been seen heading towards the Hilltop."

Even from the bed, at Dwight's words, Blake heard Negan give a dark growl under his breath.

"An' what? No one at the fuckin' outpost thought to fuckin' stop them?" barked the dark-haired Saviour angrily, suddenly bashing Lucille against the doorframe once more, causing the entire room to shudder. "Jesus fuckin' Christ! The shit I have to put up with sometimes, D."

Blake blinked a couple of times, watching as Negan dragged a hand over his chin, his mind obviously whirring away quickly.

He was very smart man, Blake had realised that from the first moment she had met him. He was calculating and unpredictable and that always put him one step ahead of everyone else. Always.

So it was strange to see him undermined and set on edge, by someone other than herself for once.

"Fine," he finally murmured out, running his hand over his dark hair until it landed on the back of his neck, as he closed his eyes, his pounding headache obvious for anyone to see now. "Normally I'd say that this was fuckin' grunt work, but this ain't the first time Tony has fucked up, and here's hopin' that a little fuckin' fresh air might clear this goddamn hangover of mine. So I'll come with. Lucille could do with a lil' run out anyway…"

Dwight shifted his weight from foot-to-foot.

"You want me to load up the trucks and get them ready to move out, Boss?" Dwight asked curtly.

But Negan gave dismissive nod, waving his hand easily.

"Yeah, load them up ready for move out in ten," he murmured, as Dwight almost instantly nodded back, turning promptly on his heel and heading off, without even another word.

Closing the door with a gentle snap again, Negan gave a long and carrying huff, as Blake looked his way, sitting up properly now and bringing her knees up to her chest beneath the white sheet.

"Trouble?" she asked in a warm voice, wanting nothing more right now, than for Negan to get back into bed with her now and spend the rest of the morning sleeping off their hangover together…perhaps enjoying a little of what they had missed out on last night to ease their sore heads.

But Negan, merely pressed his tongue to his back molars, before crossing the room, and to Blake's dismay, making for his abandoned boots and leather jacket.

"Mmmhmmm," he replied, a frown hovering between his brows now. "That asshole Tony's done this before, but what I don' want is ol' Gregory up at the Hilltop, or worse, your old-buddy Rick the fuckin' Prick, gettin' a hold of those guns. So fuck it, if I can't trust my men to sort this shit out for me, I'm gonna have to do it my fuckin' self now aren't I?"

But Blake gave a lick of her lips, as she stared up at the dark-haired man before her, eagerly, opening her mouth slowly to speak…

But before she could do so, Negan shot her an apologetic look, pointing Lucille in her direction playfully.

"Sorry, Sweetheart," he murmured. "Looks like that blow-job you owe me is gonna have to wait."

At this, Blake frowned slightly, a vague recollection of that promise coming back to her hazily.

But she quickly brushed his comment aside.

"Can I come with you?" she asked suddenly, blinking couple of times up at Negan, who stopped in his tracks, one arm already threaded through the sleeve of his jacket, as he stared her way.

She hadn't been out of the Sanctuary in almost two weeks now and perhaps Negan was right. Maybe a little fresh air would clear her hangover. Besides, it would be good to do something other than gardening for just one day.

But Negan pursed his lips now, looking a little stern.

"Hmmm, I ain't so sure, Darlin'," he uttered, eyeing her as he shrugged the rest of his jacket slowly onto his shoulders. "This ain't gonna be no field trip to the fuckin' Smithsonian. An' I don't want you in the line of fire on this one."

But Blake tilted her head to the side, her green eyes meeting with his chocolate ones, as butterflies swarmed inside her stomach.

It was obvious how much he cared for her…but even so, she bit down onto her lip and gave the smallest of sighs.

"Negan….we've been over this," she said in a gentle voice, knowing that this was what their argument back in the woods had been about. "You can't keep me cooped up here forever. And I can hold my own out there….you know I can."

But Negan gave a loud huff, frowning darkly.

She could tell he didn't want her going as she had told him, she wasn't one of his wives. and he couldn't just keep her here like a prize. That wasn't who she was. She had spent enough time out there, surviving...staying alive….she could handle this. Definitely.

"Peaches, this ain't up for fuckin' discussion..." said Negan warningly, but Blake just cut across him, slipping swiftly from the bed in just her underwear and padding across the room toward him now, bringing herself up to her full height and coming to step just in front of the dark-haired Saviour, jabbing him in the chest with her finger.

"No, Negan," she began firmly, shaking her head, her caramel-blonde hair trickling over her bare shoulders. "..it's not. Because I'm coming with you and that's final."

And with that, before he could retort, Blake had marched over to her open closet, tugging out a clean pair of black jeans and a tight black sweater before flinging them onto the bed.

She was coming with him and that was that.

She wasn't his wife and as 'friends', he really had no right to argue with her. She knew that. And by his silence, Negan did too.

But she paused, glancing over her shoulder now, hearing him strut towards her, Lucille now up on his shoulder and that frown still sat between his dark brows.

"Alright," he growled, raising his eyebrows and pointing down at her now, sternly. "But you ain't leavin' my goddamn sight, Sweetheart. We clear?"

And at this, Blake just smiled to herself, turning back around to fish out some clean underwear, knowing that she had won.

"We're clear," she murmured back, ignoring his unimpressed features on purpose, airily. "See you out at the trucks in ten then."

And she didn't have to turn around, hearing Negan give an irritable huff of annoyance, before he marched swiftly out of the door, slamming it loudly shut behind him….

..with Blake giving a smirk to herself. Her hangover feeling better already…

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