#ANYWAY hope you come up with somethin if not for my eyeballs but just cause i know how insane someone can get when they have an idea

[todayisafridaynight]

god i love making people talk a lot about their fave character and it's a pleasant bonus if their fave character is also my fave character so don't you think i didn't read under the cut (i did i was very excited to get the answer With The Cut daemn) so yeah no i didn't get back to square one cause actually i had some thoughts and i think the most possible way for him to be is like. somewhere in-between? because yeah the possibility of him never growing out of his aoki era clothes (i presume, he must be used to this after years of being ryo aoki) is high cause at least that's the clothes he has now and that's how he rolls now and what not. but! i think he might lean a bit back to his emo swag era - not even close to how it was in his twenties, but i guess we can let the man have some bracelets or necklace - i have my doubts about him going back to politics (the man cringefailed so hard at this i would be ashamed to show my face in this field again daemn... but maybe he can put his skills to use at ijincho heck why not but that's the whole 'nother story) so i think he can allow himself to dress more freely while still stickin to his usual clothes. believe me you can't undo the damage to your brain and taste caused by emo goth swag era of your life im speaking from experience you can hide but you can't run. damn i hope it makes sense im too sleepy to sketch anything rn but ill do it later cause im haunted by visions byeeee

the inescapable hold of your goth era as a teenager/young adult is true and i was a fool to doubt it- it would manifest in one way or another you're right

[loversandantiheroes]

Okay my whiskey fantasy. It’s a holiday, anniversary, I dunno. But he comes home. You’re in lingerie, teddy, the garter belt, the thigh high tights (I am having an absolute brain fart and can not remember the name), the high heels. you’re cooking him dinner in it. Somethin real texas for dinner. He wants to immediately fuck yiu, BUT NO he has to WAIT bc its dinner time and you worked hard. He’s waiting, and he’s watching you, you’re bending over at the stove, all that. Dinner is served, you —-

You lounge on the table to eat like a decadent and gorgeous pain in the ass, so he can see you’re whole body while he eats, forced to be patient. You’re being an absolute menace. He’s running his mouth the whole time OBVIOUSLY. Then he fucking wrecks you

No Candles Necessary

As I am a bonafide yeehonk foole (and I have the t-shirt to prove it), I could hardly resist this idea. Nonny, I hope like hell I did you proud.💗

Shameless Whiskey/F!Reader smut (18+ and yes that means you), 5.3k+ words (they just wouldn’t shut up), mildly beta’d and lightly edited.

Warnings: established relationship, unsafe food preparation practices, light foodplay (it only goes in appropriate places I swear), egregious dirty talk, improper use of a dining table, Switch!Whiskey returns, Switch!Reader by extension, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), deepthroating, PIV sex, unprotected sex (do as I say, not as I fictionalize), cream pie (bc I’m lazy quite frankly), actual pie (peach!), a little soft schmoop in between the smut just because I can.

Permatag: @missredherring​ @dovesnroses​ @astroboots​ @magpierhymes​ @alienprincesspoop​ @aasimarr​ @maythxthirstbxwithyou​ @recklesswit​

Pedro Permatag: @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa​ (sorry bab, more yeehonk) @corvueros​ @thirstworldproblemss​ @littleferal​ @krissology​ @frannyzooey​ @forallthstarsinthesky​ @princess76179​ @keeper0fthestars​ @venusandromedadjarin​

Cooking your boyfriend a birthday dinner in lingerie is probably not the best idea you've ever had. The man isn’t even home yet to witness the trouble you’ve gone to, still wrapping up a day’s work at HQ after closing out another mission. So you didn’t jump right into cooking in your frillies. No, you did the bulk of the work in sweats and a t-shirt, only stopping to change once you were down to the last stretch and the steaks had come off to rest. You've got sense enough at least to put on an apron, not wanting to risk getting hot grease on the delicate fabric or the vast amounts of bare skin the thing doesn't cover, and while you've already donned the garter belt and stockings you've left your heels up against the island counter so you can slip them on quickly when you hear the door. Still you can't quite help but feel less sexy and more silly as you stand there carving up a pair of garlic butter basted steaks while your forehead prickles with sweat and your ass, covered by neither the teddy or the apron, feels ice cold.

The things I do for love of a goddamn cowboy, you think with a shake of your head. Your whole plan is honestly on the high end of ridiculous. But then Jack is a ridiculous man, and he always seems to drag you headlong into absurdity with him. Some days it's his only saving grace - the boyish playfulness that tempers his arrogance into something charming rather than infuriating. It seems only right to be a little ridiculous for the occasion.

Once the carving’s done you give yourself a second to go over the spread and make sure everything's ready to go. It's early yet, but you're expecting to hear Jack's key in the front door any minute. He's made no mention of returning home early, of course, but he is every bit the sort that would try to surprise you on his birthday, and you’ve developed an uncanny ability to anticipate his moves ahead of time.

As it turns out, you have just enough time to slip on your heels before you hear the front door open and Jack calls out your name. You allow yourself a moment of satisfaction - you do love being right when it comes to this sort of thing - and slip into your heels.

“In here, baby,” you call back, stepping out to lean against the door frame.

“Somethin’ smells like heaven,” Jack says, rounding the corner into the dining room. He stops dead when he gets a look at you, mouth falling open in surprise. He’s hung his hat at the door, his hair already flopping over in a revolt against the slicked-back way he styles it in the morning, his suit jacket still on and buttoned. “Looks like it, too,” he finishes, the corner of his mouth curling into a grin. “I feel overdressed all of a sudden.”

You can’t help but answer that grin. “Happy birthday, cowboy,” you tell him, beckoning him over.

He all but rushes across the room to slide up against you, hands curling around your hips and playing with the tie to the apron. “Sure as hell is now,” he mutters. His palms slide down, cupping your ass to pull you in close. You bite back a hiss at the warmth, and he gives a low approving hum at the expanse of cool, bare skin. “Looks like I don’t even need to unwrap my present.”

“Patience,” you insist, pushing his shoulders back and grazing your lips over the tip of his nose as you evade the kiss he tries to pull you into. “No dessert until after dinner.”

“Dinner can wait-”

“No it cannot. I did not just spend the afternoon trying to keep hot butter off my tits so you could get impatient and let your supper get cold.” He traces a finger across your cleavage as you talk, tugging at the top of the apron to get a better look at the skin underneath. You feel the quip coming before he even opens his mouth, so you take the opportunity to give him a little push and show him just what he’s in for tonight. You bring up your hand, fingers curling under his wrist, turning his hand away and using it to pull him flush to you, the line of your thigh landing against the covered denim crotch of his jeans with just enough force to make him jolt.

“Be a good boy, Jack,” you say against his open, breathless mouth, “or you won’t get any dessert at all.”

Whiskey pouts, but his eyes have that dark glint that says he knows he’s in for trouble and he is just as pleased as punch about it. “You mean to torture a man on his birthday, honeybee?”

The smirk you give him makes his heartbeat kick up a little faster - you can feel the quickening of it in the pulse point against your fingertips. “Absolutely.” You stretch up enough for one brief, warm kiss and then step back, jerking your chin towards the dining table where there’s already two glasses of wine poured at the ready. “Sit. I’ll bring out dinner.”

He nods, tongue rolling slowly against his bottom lip. “Yes ma’am.”

His gaze is a heavy weight on your body as you walk away, raking down across so much exposed skin. You hear him groan at the sight, low and appreciative. He’s always been fond of seeing you wrapped up in lingerie, even more fond of tearing up the expensive scraps just to get you bare for him. You’d chided him about it the first time - the bodysuit he’d ripped clean in half from gusset to tit hadn’t been cheap, even though that little display had thrilled you far more than you’d ever want to admit - but he always replaced what he ruined without fail.

When you come back, divested of the apron with plates in hand, Whiskey is sitting just as instructed, elbow on the table, chin resting on his knuckles. He tracks every move you make, every sway of your hips, a playful smile hiding the effort of his restraint as you set his dinner in front of him. He barely spares the food a glance when you elect to forego your own chair and simply hop up onto the table, setting your plate near his and dragging over your glass of wine.

“You’ve outdone yourself, honeybee,” Whiskey rumbles, sliding a hand up your knee to your thigh, and he could not be talking less about the food.

You only smile, taking an unhurried sip. “Somehow I thought you’d prefer this to a new tie. How old are you now, anyway?” you tease.

“Sweet sixteen,” he says dryly, hiking an eyebrow while he squeezes your thigh for your cheek.

You chuckle. “Uh-huh, and I’m Mother Theresa.” You lean in, spearing a slice of steak on his plate with your fork and holding it out for him. “Now, I worked very hard on this, and I am going to be very disappointed if you try to skip dinner on me just ‘cause you can’t quit eyeballing your dessert. Open.”

He tips you a wink before dutifully opening his mouth, letting you feed him. The soft, indulgent moan that leaves him as his eyes slip closed is too subdued to be anything but real. “Honeybee that is gorgeous. My compliments to the chef.” 

“The chef is glad to hear it.” You swipe your thumb over his lip, collecting the sheen of juice and garlicky butter and bringing it to your own mouth, delicately sucking it off. “Could’ve used a bit more rosemary.”

Whiskey shakes his head. “Mm-mm. This is perfection on a plate, baby. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

The smile that earns him is genuine, and you bend to give him a quick kiss. He presses it, just a little, a swipe of his tongue that you open for just enough to nip at before pulling away. “Eat.” You gesture meaningfully at his plate.

All told, there isn’t actually much on it. Steak, roasted new potatoes, and asparagus with hollandaise sauce. You’ve only served up maybe half of what you’d usually set in front of him for dinner, opting for more reserved portions. It’s a favor to you both - his patience wouldn’t last through a full meal without the need for physical restraints. There’s more in the kitchen, of course, and an actual pie for dessert if you happen to get that far. You’re both bound to be hungry again after.

Whiskey tucks in, fork in his left hand while his right stays comfortably curled around your thigh, slowly creeping higher and higher until he’s playing with the lacy top of your stocking. You give him a warning tilt of your head, your own fork poised halfway to your mouth. All you get in return is those plaintive, innocent puppy dog eyes of his, but his hand doesn’t advance further.

All in all you’re rather proud of his restraint, at least until one spear of asparagus manages to drip hollandaise down onto your cleavage. Suddenly that quietly repressed hunger cracks and he’s surging up towards you, mouth half-open and tongue peaking out, ready to clean you up.

But that won’t do. Not yet. Your reflexes might not be as good as his, but they’re nothing to balk at, either. You brace yourself back on one hand, leaning away and planting one of your high heels against his shoulder to shove him back into his seat. The look on his face is priceless; mouth agape and pupils blown. 

Slowly you shake your head. “You know better, Jack.”

His eyes track up the inside of your thigh to the crotch of your bodysuit - or rather, the lack thereof - and the split strips of lace that don’t cover your mound, but frame it prettily for him. “Fuck, honeybee,” he mutters breathlessly. 

Dinner and a show was always the plan. So you take your time, dipping your finger and swiping up the stripe of creamy yellow and holding it out to him. Whiskey stares you down as he takes the tip of your finger into his mouth and sucks dutifully, his tongue plush and soft and working against the pad of your finger the same way he worries it over your clit. A rush of heat rockets through you, leaving your belly warm and a sweet tingle tripping down your spine in its wake.

Biting your lip hard to rein in the impulse to just slide into his lap, you drag your finger out of his mouth. It’s what he wants; to make you break first, to make you lose at your own game. And where’s the fun in that?

“It is your birthday, so I’m going to cut you a little bit of slack, but if you can’t mind your manners and do as you’re fucking told, you’re gonna get a lot worse than a birthday spanking, pretty boy. Now, I told you: no dessert until you finish your dinner.” There’s precious little left on his plate; a few scraps of steak, a couple potatoes, one lone spear of asparagus. You stab this last with your fork and hold it out to him. “Last chance, baby. You open your mouth for me and be a good boy, and you can have me any way you want.”

Whiskey looks dazed; seething and starved and love-struck all at once. You don’t even need to look down to know he’s hard. But he hesitates just for a moment, whether it’s deliberate or accidental you’re not really sure - sometimes the man just really wants to be punished - but in that space you see his body jerk, hunching slightly as his abdominal muscles contract involuntarily. You follow the movement with your eyes and sure enough, there he is. Full mast and straining hard against thick denim.

Smiling sweetly, you wave the fork at him. “Your choice, Jack.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he says, and the roughshod timbre of his voice says it’d be a fine way to go.

Whiskey opens his mouth and takes what you give him.

You’re slow about it. Careful. Admonishing him when he tries to chew a little too quickly. Whiskey stares you down with eyes like coal seconds away from ignition. He holds your gaze while you slip another bite of food into his mouth, then lets his eyes slip down until they fix firmly on your half-exposed and already glistening cunt, and you know the moment you give him an inch he’s going to wreck the hell out of you for this.

When the last bite passes his lips he curls his hand around your ankle, squeezing. Always pushing his luck, this man of yours. You set his plate aside, glancing away like it’s no effort at all as he very methodically wipes his mouth with his napkin.

“Now can I have my dessert?” Impatience roughens the low gravel of his voice into something dangerously sharp.

You smile, leaning back on one hand. “There’s peach pie in the kitchen.”

He presses forward, left hand sliding big and warm up the inside of your thigh. The motion presses the leg you’ve used to pin him to his chair back until your knee is nearly flush with your chest, opening you up wider, the rush of air between your legs now shockingly cold against the wetness that had gathered there.

“Woman, the only pie I want a piece of is the one sitting right in front of me.”

The stretch along the back of your thigh burns, so you shift, hooking your leg over his shoulder instead. “I haven’t finished my dinner yet,” you protest cooly, reaching down to snag a strip of steak off your still half-full plate and popping it into your mouth.

Whiskey’s hands slip higher, and this time you don’t stop him, too busy sucking the buttery juices off your fingers. When the very very tips of his fingers brush the spread lace at the crux of your thighs he freezes, waiting for the rebuke, for fingers around his neck or your other heel to plant square in his chest. You consider it, sure; it’s certainly not a prospect without its merits. A man that enjoys being under your thumb is satisfying in a way that few things in life ever fully measure up to.

But honestly, you’ve worked hard enough tonight. Time to let him put in a little effort.

A tilt of your head and a curl of your foot against his shoulder is permission enough; slipping off the leash by way of a gesture, and the low smolder in his eyes blooms to a full burn. Whiskey stands to his full height, looming close enough for you to feel the heat bake off him as he shrugs off his jacket and unbuttons the cuffs on his dress shirt, rolling them up with a few quick turns of his wrists.

“Can’t let my girl go hungry now,” he hums in a voice like burnt molasses. “Lemme give you a hand there, honeybee.”

Smirking, Whiskey wraps an arm around you, brushing the tip of his nose against yours as you wriggle against solid heat of his body. His left hand wanders out of sight on the table as his lips meet yours, teasing your mouth open with the barest brush of his tongue, while his right hand trails warm and slow around your side and down and down to cup your mound.

It’s hard to believe you ever felt cold. You’re burning up now, skin flushed hot as his mouth grazes yours and breathes out: “Open up for me.”

And just like magic, you do. No input needed on your behalf; your mouth simply drops open and your legs shift wider in accommodation for him. There’s a clink of silverware and then he’s waving a fork at you, a strip of steak speared on the end. Whiskey’s eyes glitter as he pushes it into your waiting mouth. Each bite he feeds you is accompanied by a teasing dip of his fingers into your core, feeding you with his left hand while he touches you with his right. Your slickened folds part smooth and easy as he pushes his fingers inside you, a welcome but all too brief intrusion, before they trail up again to stroke at your clit. Again and again you rock your hips up, trying to encourage him to slip into you deeper, to give you a taste of the fullness and pressure of his cock, but every time his touch retreats.

You whine; a strange mix of frustration and pleasure. “Tease.”

“Takes one to know one,” he coos, the hand between your legs working faster. Heat builds quickly under his fingertips, a friction far more appetizing than anything else you’ve set on the table tonight. “You made the rules, honeybee. No dessert until after you finish supper. You do want your dessert, don’t you?”

He brings the next bite up, holds it tantalizingly close. You stretch out and he draws it back, and suddenly his fingers are rubbing a firm, determined circle on your clit. Your whole body jolts, gasping air with a pitiful little whine. There’s nothing but mischief on his face as he watches you, tongue sweeping against his bottom lip. He slows his fingers, brings the fork down again, closer this time. The food brushes your bottom lip before he pulls it away, fingers quickening again.

“Jesus,” you all but squeak. “Jack, don’t be mean.”

Whiskey gives you a considering hum, leaning forward to suck the sheen of butter off your bottom lip. “Oh darlin’ I would never,” he insists, punctuating the sentiment with a kiss that’s tender enough to be very nearly sincere if it weren’t for the fact that the motion of his hand never slows. A sweet, bright heat begins to build under his fingertips. “How could I be mean to my girl when she worked so hard for me, hm? I’m just paying that back in kind is all. You wanna come on my fingers, baby, you can do that all you like. I’ll make you come ‘til those pretty little legs can’t do much more than shimmy. You know I can. But you ain’t gettin’ nothin’ else until you clean your plate like a good girl.”

“H-ha-ah, fuck-how much more?”

He grins devilishly. “Just this last bite.”

“Oh you f-fucking jackass!”

Whiskey laughs. “Guilty as charged. Open up, baby, take what I got for you.”

He pushes the last bite past your lips and immediately delves his fingers into your warm and waiting cunt. The breath shudders out of you, fingers digging into the tablecloth as you try to hang onto enough composure to remember to chew and swallow. He’s slow for a moment, pumping and curling his fingers gently while he watches you eat. There’s a clink of silverware as he discards the fork and puts his arm around you, pressing his lips against your forehead.

“Good girl,” he murmurs sweetly.

Mouth empty now, you nudge your nose against his chin, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Jack-”

And then his grip becomes determined. The fingers inside you flex, the heel of his hand pressing hard against your clit and all you can do is cry out against the soft skin of his neck and hang on for dear life while he works you up and over the edge with shocking speed.

Trembling, you lock your legs around him as you come down, dragging his collar aside to bite lazily into the place where his neck and shoulder meet.

“Fuck,” he groans, hips rutting up against the back of his hand between your legs. “How do you want me, honeybee?”

That earns him a breathless laugh, goosebumps raising along his neck. “It’s your birthday, Jack. What do you want?”

Whiskey’s eyes drop to your mouth and he makes a considering sound, pulling back to suck you delicately off his fingers. “I think I want your mouth. And then I think I want to fuck you right here on this table until that divinely sweet little pussy wrings me fucking dry. Sound good to you, honeybee?”

“That can be arranged.” His eyelids flutter as you reach down to his zipper, not even bothering with his belt before you reach inside his jeans and the button fly of his boxers to tug his cock free, cupping your fingers to draw his balls out, too.

You move to stand and he shakes his head, caging you in. “No. Not on your knees, baby. On the table. I wanna see you all spread out for me. My pretty little present.”

He helps you. Sweeps your hair back as you lie flat on the dining table, scooting back to let your head hang just a bit. It’s not exactly comfortable. The edge of the table digs into your neck a bit, and the way the blood rushes to your head is not entirely pleasant either. But you watch Whiskey pace around you to take his place in front of your waiting mouth, cock bobbing and just barely beginning to leak for you, and you feel a gorgeous rush of heat at the sight.

Whiskey slides his palm up your stomach to cup one barely-covered breast. “Gorgeous,” he mutters, squeezing. “Absolutely beautiful.”

“Jack.”

“I know, darlin’, I know. But my God you’re a picture.” He cups your cheek, absently brushes the corner of your mouth with his thumb before sliding his hand back to give your head a little support. “Open up for me, angel.”

And once again, you open up for what he gives you. The angle makes it strange, the topography of Jack’s body less familiar as he slips into your mouth, your tongue dragging wet and slow over foreign terrain. The taste of him, hot skin and the tang of bitter salt, that you know well enough. You close your eyes at it, bring your hands up to his hips to tug him slowly forward and listen to the way he moans.

“That’s my girl,” he whispers, breathless and a little awe-struck. “Jesus fucking Christ. You spoil me, baby. Sweet as fucking honey, my god.”

A light touch against your breast makes you shiver, goosebumps raising as it draws lightly over your skin. A single fingertip, sliding the lace of the bodysuit aside to bare your breasts to the chill of the room and the warmth of Whiskey’s hands.

He mutters sweet things as he begins to move; sweet, tender, unconscionably filthy things. All the things you do to him. Do for him. The rocking of his hips is gentle at first, feeding you his cock inch by cautious inch. When he hits the back of your throat he pulls back on reflex, but the light scrape of your teeth and the sudden tightness of your grip on the plush meat of his ass sends him forward again. The angle eases the motion, and you relax into the pressure as he pushes in and in and...oh.

You feel the resistance at the back of your throat give gently; strange, but not uncomfortable. Above you, Whiskey lets out a pained groan.

“Shit. Oh shit yes, honeybee. Take it. Ohhh s-shit. Take all of it. Every goddamn inch. Fuck.”

And then his hips are flush with your mouth, the soft skin of his balls pressed up against your nose. Panting, he wraps a hand around the stretched column of your throat, swearing breathlessly. He moves, a small, careful thrust, and you can feel the tremor that ripples through him at the feeling.

“Just a little more baby,” he mumbles, pulling back until just the head of his cock rests within the warmth of your mouth. You suckle at it, working it eagerly with your lips and tongue while you breathe raggedly through your nose. Your hips jut up into thin air on their own accord, just as eager for him as your mouth is.

“I got you, honeybee.” The hand at your neck slips down, skimming over skin and lace until he finds your clit. The first touch jolts you, your cry stifled on his cock as you shudder up against him. “Good girl. I got you, baby. Jack’s got you. Keep going. Just a little more. Just a little more and then I’ll fill you right on up. Fuck my sweet girl’s brains right out of her head. Prettiest fuckin’ thing I ever fuckin seen, baby, holy fuck.”

You moan something against him - pleasure, acquiescence, god only knows - but the sound of it is lost as his cock slides steadily back into your mouth. The pressure in your head is distracting, tears prickling your eyes when he pushes in deep, but the stroking of his fingers and the feel of him in your mouth, sliding hard and slick and effortlessly down your throat is far more consuming than the discomfort.

He rocks into you. Fucks into you. Moans and gasping praises falling thick and fast from his lips as he moves. You don’t need to feel the way his balls draw up tight to know how close he is, how tight he’s riding the line between what he wants to do and what his body wants to do. You’re lost in it all the same; his pleasure and the fraying thread of his restraint. Your own pleasure, building quick and low and locking down the muscles in your thighs until they tremble. You float in it, overwhelmed and dizzy, until, very suddenly, you break.

Whiskey curses, pulling back to listen to you cry out, to let you curl up and clutch at him as he pants above you, muttering broken, desperate please of: “yes god yes honeybee all of it, gimme all of it, every last bit.”

You’re a wreck in the aftermath; pliant and limp, face teary and slick with spit and precome. He draws you up, wiping your face with a clean napkin before pulling you into a kiss that steals away whatever remained of your breath. He gathers you up, turns you until you can wrap your still-tingling limbs around him. Nudges his hips against yours, his wet cock dragging against slick skin and fragile lace.

“You okay, baby?” he asks, trailing soft kisses over your face.

You have to clear your throat before you can respond, the sound of it harsh and ragged like an engine turning over. “Y-yeah. Yeah I’m good. Dizzy, but good.”

“You ain’t the only one, honeybee. Almost didn’t make it in time. Wanted to fill up that pretty mouth so bad. You just about did me in.”

He laughs and you join him, breathing ragged joy into each other’s lungs.

“Still want me to fuck you?” The question should be coarse, but somehow isn’t. Not with his sweat-slick forehead pressed to yours and his lips ghosting kisses against your mouth with every breath.

“So sweet,” you mutter, combing your hands through his hair.

“LIke hell,” he scoffs, holding you tight to his chest. “I ain’t and you know it.”

“You are to me,” you insist, pressing a kiss against the tip of his nose. He smiles, softens everywhere but that place that throbs with impatient heat against you. “Now fuck me, pretty boy.”

A flash of a grin is the only warning you get before he’s hooking his arms under your knees and pulling you to the edge of the table. “Yes ma’am,” he says obligingly, planting a hand between your breasts to push you back against the table as he lines himself up, sliding into you with one smooth, achingly deep stroke. 

You moan, knees drawing up as his hips meet yours and he fills the space inside you that’s been aching for him all day. Whiskey lets out a groaning sigh, leaning into you like he wants to bury himself whole inside you. He hoists one of your legs up against his chest, nuzzles the inside of your knee while he tries to find his breath again. The length of him inside you is rigid as steel and blindingly hot, still so close to his own end that he has to wait, worrying his teeth over your skin, until the urge to just rut against you like an animal until he comes finally passes.

And when it does, when he opens his eyes at last, he looks down at you with a dazed, hungry smile. He presses a kiss to the tip of his finger and brings it down to your lips.

“Love you, honeybee.”

Heavy-lidded and so wonderfully full, you kiss his finger and arch your back. “Love you, too, cowboy.”

And that’s the last intelligent thing you manage to say. Finally - finally! - Whiskey fucks you, each pounding swing of his hips making the china rattle like nervous teeth. Your arms strike out, curling and flailing, trying to find something to grab onto as he fucks you. The heel of your hand strikes one of the wine glasses and sends it tumbling to the floor where it shatters. The breath leaves your body in tiny bursts with each impact; little monosyllabic cries punctuating each one.

“Fuck, that’s my girl,” Whiskey murmurs. He cups your breasts, thumbing the pebbled sharpness of your nipples before his hands slide lower, finding the deep notch of the bodysuit between them. “Wrapped up so pretty for me.”

The lace tears away like it’s nothing, a clean rip down the center. Oh well. He’ll buy you another.

Whiskey folds over you, pulling you down closer so he can get an arm under your back, his hand grasping the back of your neck and pulling you up to meet his mouth. He’s still wearing his tie, the drape of fabric laying cool against your chest. Blessedly he’s not wearing his usual belt buckle. Foresight or oversight you’re not quite sure, but you’re grateful all the same as he grinds into you, a press of cold metal and leather against your belly.

He’s not going to last long, but it hardly matters. You’re too worked up, two orgasms down already, cunt so swollen and sensitive it’s hardly an effort to get you there again. But the feeling of him inside you turns that bright burn into something lower, deeper. Something that makes your muscles lock and tremble, straining up against him and gasping into his mouth.

“Jaaaack,” you whine, arms locked around his neck.

“Yes, baby,” he groans, voice quivering with every thrust. “Fuck yes I’m right there too, c’mon. Come with me, honeybee, come with me.”

His rhythm falters, grinding deeper and deeper, and all that strained tension in your body snaps like a rubberband. You sob, grabbing fistfuls of his dress shirt, twisting and jerking as you come apart under him.

All Whiskey can do is growl as you bear down on him, gritting a litany of “yes, yes, fuck yes, god yes, that’s my girl that’s my girl that’s my fucking girl.” And then he’s gone, too, driving into you with a sudden jolt and crying out against the side of your neck as he comes.

You’re holding him too tight, clutching him to you as you both lie there, panting and shuddering, a spreading stain of red wine pooling next to your head.

“Jesus,” he whispers, tries to shift up to find your mouth, but even that amount of drag on his oversensitive cock is enough to make him hiss and jerk. “Fuck.”

“Mm-hm,” you agreed dumbly.

Whiskey lets out a growling hum, smoothing your hair. “You good, honeybee?”

You trail kisses up to his ear, still breathless. “What do you think?”

He wheezes a laugh. “I think I gotta replace a lot more than your frillies this time.” The laugh turns giddy, and Whiskey presses his forehead against your temple. “And I think I’m hungry.”

“Pie in the kitchen,” you mumble, too drowsy to do much more than nuzzle into the damp tangle of Whiskey’s hair.

“What kind?”

“Peach.”

He hums, smiling drowsily. “My favorite.”

You give a slow nod. “I know. Happy birthday, Jack.”

He kisses you, slow and sweet. “Best I ever had,” he murmurs.

[toothlessturtle21]

Beer Bottle Blues

I already lost count of how many oneshots I’ve posted, oops. Welp, here’s another one! CW: alcohol, Kai being tipsy, referenced character death. Enjoy!

-----

After his boyfriend blows himself up to save Ninjago, Kai finds himself at a bar every night to try and forget his loss, even if only temporarily. However, he'll have to confront his feelings sooner than he'd like to when a certain blonde ninja shows up to tug him away from the bar countertop.

Kai drank the last of his bottle, slamming the glass on the bar counter with a quiet grunt. The room was slightly hazy, the effects of downing two bottles of beer in a relatively short time period taking its toll on his mind. He traced the woodgrain with his eyes, ignoring the bustle of both snakes and humans alike as they moved around the dimly lit hole-in-the-wall. His mind seemed simultaneously both dead and alive at the same time, thinking of nothing and everything at once.

But as he looked at his empty bottle, the condensation slowly dripping down the cold brown glass, his thoughts sharpened to the reason why he was hanging out in a seedy bar anyway. Zane was dead.

He had watched his partner of over a year, best friend in the whole world, and love of his life blow up in front of his eyes. Well, not exactly, but he had felt the rumble pass through his body as he hid beneath the sewer lid, huddling with the rest of the team for cover.

Like a coward, he told himself. He should have been the one in his boyfriend's place, Zane didn't deserve to die the way he did, especially not when he had just met another android, one that understood how he felt and experienced the world. He had spoken at Zane's funeral out of duty, knowing his boyfriend would have wanted him to honor him out of everyone. He had held it together long enough to say some words about the lovely person his boyfriend had been, but Nya had cradled him that night as he broke down sobbing in her arms.

He hadn't spoken to the team in weeks, only keeping vague contact with his sister to let her know she wasn't dead. Nya thought he was out clearing his mind around Ninjago, not wasting his nights away getting drunk in a bar, only switching up the location to keep bartenders from getting suspicious. Eventually, he had landed at one that didn't seem to notice that he was the red ninja, or at least didn't care. It was nice, to not have expectations surround you as you tried to drown out your grief with cheap beer.

Speaking of beer, he flagged down the bartender, who passed him another opened bottle with barely a second glance. He took a quick swig, and glanced around once more. A Hypnobrai was on his right, sipping a whiskey while a Fangpyre laughed with him one more seat down. It almost reminded Kai of his and Jay's antics, but as far as he cared at the moment, Jay didn't even exist.

Even thinking about his former teammates was enough to cause bile to threaten to spill, his friends a painful reminder of his lost love. He hoped there was an afterlife for the Ninja of Ice after all, maybe even with his dad. Kai thought bitterly that his creator deserved to spend a peaceful life with Zane more than Kai did, as he knew how badly Zane had grieved after his father passed once more. His mind drifted back to long nights spent awake, holding his boyfriend in his arms as Zane cried, the heartache of losing his father for the final time too much to bear.

Oh, what Kai would give for even five more minutes of holding the android in his arms.

He blinked away the new mist in his eyes, and gulped down the rest of his drink. It stung his throat on the way down, a helpful distraction from the thoughts of his former boyfriend, and the haze helped keep them away as he drank into the night.

---

Much to his surprise, the bar was not as secretive as he had previously thought. The next night, when he returned, he only had the chance to down two bottles before a hand shook his shoulder. Kai turned his head in agitation, ready to tell some drunk Serpentine to screw off, but he was greeted by a familiar blonde face.

"Lloyd? What're you-"

"You're drunk."

The blunt statement surprised Kai's hazy brain, and he blinked before answering.

"So wha-? What d'you want?" He slurred, but only slightly (or so he thought). Lloyd just quirked his mouth in annoyance and pity, tugging gently on Kai's sleeve.

"C'mon, you shouldn't be in here."

"Why?" Kai bit, trying to drain the last from his bottle, which was snatched away by the Green Ninja in a hurry.

"Stop that."

"Go away," Kai grumbled, turning away sulkily, and Lloyd narrowed his eyes.

"Kai, you're being childish. Just come with me, please."

"Why should I?" He didn't spare Lloyd a glance, and the blonde didn't respond for a few moments, the roar of the crowd around them filling both of their ears.

"I miss you," He admitted, the same hand that shook his shoulder earlier merely coming to rest on it. "It's been pretty lonely without any of you. I haven't been able to track down Cole, and Jay or his manager hasn't returned any of my calls."

"Jay... has a what now?" Kai eyeballed Lloyd's expression for any jokes, and came up short.

"I'll explain, you just gotta trust me. Please, man."

"Fine, fine," Kai slapped down a twenty, enough for both beer bottles (he had memorized the prices by now), and followed Lloyd out with a sunken expression. Outside, the night was cool, and the freezing wind was both sobering and terrifying.

"That was... quite the place you were in," Lloyd began, leading Kai down the streets, presumable to return to a less seedy part of town. "What made you end up with a bunch of Serpentine?"

"All the other bars just hounded me. That one doesn't give a shit that I was the Fire Ninja."

"You still are, y'know," The Green Ninja said quietly, almost as if holding himself back.

"Huh?"

"You're still a ninja. Just because we're down one doesn't mean we can't still be a team-"

"It's not a team without him," Kai interrupted, surprised at how quickly emotions leapt out, clogging his throat. "Never will be."

Lloyd was quiet after that, simply walking beside Kai, deep in thought. The brunette sighed heavily, turning towards Lloyd when his voice was no longer threatening him with a puberty-worthy crack.

"I know you don't know what it feels like, kid, but I can't go back after all that."

"I miss him too, Kai. He was one of my best friends. I can't imagine what it's like for you," Lloyd tried not to let his pity show too much on his face, but he obviously failed, as Kai rolled his eyes playfully and pulled the blonde in for a side hug.

"Alright Green Bean, I'll bite. Where're we going?"

"Home," Lloyd grinned, and Kai knew he couldn't turn back now. "Uh, I have some leftover takeout, if you want it."

"You pulled me out of a bar just to shovel greasy shit in my mouth? Real healthy there, Lloyd," Kai teased, and Lloyd laughed, and it almost made Kai happy for a split second before his heart sank once more.

"Wait."

Kai stopped in his tracks, and Lloyd turned around from a few paces ahead.

"I- I can't go back. That means seeing his old room. Nobody's touched it since, right?"

"I know I haven't," Lloyd gnawed on his lip, guilt chewing at the corners of his mind. "Same with Nya. We just can't stand even knowing it's there."

"I just can't," Kai shook his head, not moving from his spot on the pavement. "I'm not ready."

"It's been a month," Lloyd stated blankly, not intended as a jab. The words hung in the air, and Kai blinked slowly.

"Already?"

"Yeah."

More silence. Each ninja stared at the other, Lloyd waiting for a continuation, and Kai not sure how to move forward.

"I think alcohol is gross," Kai stated, and the Green Ninja looked surprised, but let his friend continue. "But it helped me not think during the night, which was when I was at my worst before. I didn't like thinking."

Lloyd hummed in sympathy, taking a step towards the Fire Ninja.

"Nya still thinks I'm off in the mountains somewhere," Kai chuckled humorlessly, his eyes meeting Lloyd's as a chilly wind tousled their hair. Kai both relished in and despised the cold that it brought with it. "Also, bars are warm. It's not exactly the beach out here. Being cold just doesn't sit right anymore."

Lloyd stepped forward again, wrapping his arms around Kai for a fragile hug. Kai returned it hesitantly, relieved when the heat of the Green Ninja's body was so different to the cold one he was so used to being close to.

"I miss him, Lloyd," Kai buried his head into tufts of blonde hair, reveling in the physical contact that he didn't realize he needed. "I just want him back."

Before Kai knew it, he was crying. Lloyd was holding him close under the street light they happened to be standing under, rubbing gentle circles into Kai's back as he poured his heart out into Lloyd's shoulder. It hurt the Green Ninja to see his friend in such a state, even with the knowledge of why he was such a mess.

As the crying waned and Kai's tears slowly turned to puffy eyes, he brought his head up and wiped at his face, red sleeve scratching at the sensitive skin.

"So," He choked out a small laugh, looking back towards the direction that Lloyd was leading him in earlier. "You said somethin' about Jay having a manager?"

When Kai had first read the note that Zane could be alive, he didn't know how to feel. On one hand, he was elated at the possibility that his lover could be out there somewhere, but on the other, the higher he let his hopes climb, the harder they would fall if it wasn't true.

Any doubts he had in his mind were thoroughly demolished once he saw his boyfriend standing next to Cole in the hot island sun. Zane scanned the surroundings, his now glowing blue eyes drinking in the people around him before they settled on Kai, the two holding eye contact for a moment before Kai broke into a sprint, flinging himself at his boyfriend, who caught him and held him fast.

Kai couldn't help it, he wrapped his arms around Zane's waist and buried his face into his chest, all of his pent up nerves and stress from the last while manifesting in happy sobs into Zane's prison clothes, his ever-gentle boyfriend pressing kisses to his forehead to guide him through it.

"Don't ever do that again, you fucking idiot," Kai mumbled into his shirt, and Zane laughed, the vibrations rumbling through Kai's body.

"I missed you too, Kai."

Although the two were broken apart shortly after to find their way off the island, they stayed close, Kai promising both himself and his partner that he would pamper the hell out of Zane for a week straight once they reached home, and the Ice Ninja smiled warmly at his boyfriend all the while.

[rogue-barnes-16]

THE MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE OF NATASHA ROMANOFF (part V/?)

Summary: after the too convenient disappearance of Natasha Romanoff, the Avengers —a local biker gang— search for help in the most unexpected place in order to get their friend back. Will it help, or will the situation just get more twisted and dangerous?

Pairing: biker!Bucky Barnes x reader

Genre: angst-ish (biker gang au)

Tags:

The mysterious disappearance of Natasha Romanoff: @shirukitsune @retrxbarnes @montypythonsholysnail

Permanent taglist: @notexactlythatgirl @thisismysecrethappyplace @sofreakinmanyfandoms @pizzarollpatrol @bubblycypress87 @1a-girl-has-no-name1 @loislp @lovenaturefirst @dyanna-corona @2ptonpt @goodnightmode @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @mannls @cutie1365 @catch22inareddress @mybooradley @sebastianisasnack @butifulsoul125 @unlikelygalaxygiver

Warnings: language

A/N: I've been kinda missing for quite a while, posting something here and there, but I kinda miss writing regularly so I'll try come back to posting twice-thrice a week, but you gotta give me a bit to get some shit rearranged and written for that schedule to be possible. Meanwhile, enjoy this part of the series and if you wanna be added to the taglist, send an ask <3.

The mysterious disappearance of Natasha Romanoff masterlist

Rogue-barnes-16 masterlist

I took a deep breath and threw myself against the backrest, waiting for the first location to load while my hands ran through up my face and through my hair.

A yawn escaped my lips as I checked the laptop's clock first, and the timer for the code to do its magic second.

Leaving the laptop over the chair where I had been sitting, I walked my way to the kitchen and poured myself what would be the fourth coffee of that morning.

As soon as I finished, I made my way to the balcony were I used to spend those early mornings with my mug held between my palms.

I took a sip of my coffee, resting my elbows over the small balcony's railing. My were eyes closed as I breathed in the forest morning breeze.

"So much for saying it was a one-night stand." A teasing voice behind me asked, and a grin tugged the corners of my lips. "You still here?"

"It's been two weeks since that." I taunted him, taking a sip. "get over it."

"can't get over you." He dramatically stated in his morning husky voice, which made the sentence seem way more romantic than I thought it was.

"So fucking cheesy." I laughed.

"Bare with me, doll." feeling his lips against my temple made my smile wider while a pair of hands traveled from behind me to rest on my hips. "this is mine." he tugged the hem of his jacket, which I was wearing.

I hummed in response, leaning my back against his chest. "It's chilly out here. I didn't wanna get cold."

He tugged the hem of his jacket eagerly, feathery kisses tracing a path from my shoulder to my neck "come back to bed" I chuckled at his eagerness . " it's still warm."

"I got work to do" I replied noctant with the sole goal of sort-of upsetting him in a playful way. "No time for cuddling."

"Please, Y/n." he whined, slowly pulling me away from the balcony to take me back to the bed. "Just ten minutes."

"It's not gonna be ten minutes." I retorted playfully, turning around to kiss his lips as we entered the bedroom once more. "You're not fooling anyone with those puppy eyes, Barnes."

He let out a subtle laugh "at least you won't get cold."

I shivered.

It was always a little bit too chilly during the morning in that balcony.

I felt the urge to squeal when a jacket was suddenly thrown over my shoulders as a reply to my subtle shiver.

I held it back, though, and instead, grabbed the lapels clothing offered and put it on while a tall figure made its way to my side "Drop the coffee, yunky." Sam teased, resting his elbows over the railing without sparing me more than a subtle glance. "it's like the tenth one I see you with this mornin'."

"It's just the fourth one." I responded, looking before me to avoid eye contact with him as I took a sip of the coffee. "It's nice to see your level of drama hasn't changed at all."

"it's good to see your level of sarcasm is still the same, too." I shook my head with a smirk I couldn't hold back. "I kinda missed that annoying sass."

"Oh boy, ain't I aware of that."

His amused yet brief chuckle preceeded a surprisingly soothing silence between the two of us.

"So" I looked over to him and, by the knowing half smile in his face as he watched me intently, I just knew what he was going to mention. "a boyfriend?"

"Hell no," I denied with a scoff. "we're not talking 'bout that."

"C'mon, Y/n." he whined, turning to face my side. "I won't tell Barnes."

"Sam" I pinched the bridge of my nose as all the bad memories from those last days with them came back around, as if they had been summoned by Bucky’s last name. "I still don't trust you. Any of you."

"Uh... Sorry."

"Like-- I appreciate you tryin" I explained the best way I could. "but we're not there yet, and I don't know if we ever will."

"Yeah I'm-"

I shut my eyes as the self-awareness of how rude I might have sounded hit me. "I'm sorry I-"

"No, no, I'm sorry, you're right." he sighed, rubbing is hands together in an anxious manner. "And... I know it's not my place to ask any of this, but-" he took a split second to measure his words before speaking. "You're happy with him, right?"

I frowned, not at the question itself, but at what was carefully hidden behind it. "what d'ya mean?"

"I mean, you're with him because he makes you happy, right?"

"Wilson, why the fuck would I be with him if he didn't?" I inquired, now turning around to face him as my tone turned more hostile each passing second.

"I shouldn't be sayin' this but-"

"But you're gonna say it anyway." I finished. He opened his mouth a couple of times but nothing came out. "C'mon, what d'ya mean?"

"Listen-" he glanced around before continuing the sentence he had just started. "I'm just sayin I hope it's 'cause you're happy together and not 'cause of Bucky."

We eyeballed each other for a hot second while the anger built up inside me, making it so damn hard for me not to explode.

"Y'know what? I'm not havin' it." I stated, stepping away from the balcony in order to reach the living room.

"That's not an answer."

"You don't fuckin' deserve one." I hissed, grabbing the laptop to finish what was left to do as quickly as I could, now eager to flee out of there.

How dare him? I thought to myself. Who the fuck gave him the right to say shit like that.

The moment I was done with the laptop, I smacked it shut and, picking up my jacket, I rushed downstairs.

I was so inside my thoughts that I ended up bumping into Bucky on my way out, which left us both with barely enough balance to avoid falling down the stairs.

"Shit- sorry."

"Don't worry." he let go of my forearms, which I didn't know he was holding, and I shockingly enough, had to do the same, since I gripped his arms to avoid falling. "You okay?"

"Yeah- I mean..." I puffed, affirming with my head. "I'm fine."

"I..." I stared into his eyes for a moment, watching him trying to read me in order to find out what was wrong. "You sure?" I only nodded as his worried irises observed me. "you finished?"

"Yeah, everything's set in the laptop already." he mumbled an 'alright' and stepped aside, freeing the way for me to exit. "I... I really hope you find her."

"I'll call you if I need your help again." he answered, and, right after, attempted to climb upstairs.

"Bucky wait!" I followed him just to be close enough to be able to grab his hand, which made his whole body tense. "I changed my number." I explained whilst getting a pen out of my pocket to scribble my new number on his palm. "there it goes." I let go of him with a pang of sadness that I wouldn't even admit to myself. "keep me updated." I requested, trying my best to ignore the tinge of red creeping up his neck and ears.

"Okay. Have a good time with your boyfriend." what was meant to be a smile ended up as a pursed lip, and I couldn't blame him since I felt my mouth doing the same gesture as I climbed downstairs to the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

BUCKY'S P. O. V.

I double checked Natasha's phone's latest locations, which Y/n had managed to get before leaving, before going back to the map in order to revise which were areas out of New Jersey and Queens.

"Hey" I spun my head to the door frame, against where Sam's side was now resting. "How's it going?"

"Uh... I think we have something." I informed him, pointing at one small area near the center of Manhattan. "I called Carter— I know, Steve's gonna kill me." I stated, anticipating whatever Sam must have thought of saying out loud. "She said Hydra's boys have been seen in this area for a while and--"

"I wasn't asking 'bout Nat." he cut me off, tilting his head to the side slightly while the faintest tinge of worry showed up in his eyes. "I meant-- y'know what I meant."

"What d'ya want me to say?" I questioned with a wannabe-careless shrug. "It's going. Just like it's been goin' for 'bout year already."

I took a peek at his face and I just knew he was about to explain to me how different it had been today from the rest of that year of me drowning in self-pity.

"Don't-"

"She got a boyfriend."

"Yeah, I heard that too." I replied sarcastically, getting up in order to reach for the phone again.

"What I mean-"

"She moved on, I know." I finished his sentence, starting to mark Peggy's number once again. "Can you focus on-"

Sam teared the phone away from me in a swift movement, which left me shocked for a couple of seconds.

"what the hell, Wilson?"

"Don't call Peggy," he warned me, locking the phone and placing it in his pocket. "Steve's gonna end you. And-"

"I swear if it's 'bout-"

"I wasn't gonna say that she moved on, you idiot." he snapped. "I was gonna say, don't do anything fucking stupid."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means she's not single." my friend warned me with arms crossed, no longer resting against the door frame. "It means that if somethin' happens and she doesn't stop it-"

"Nothin'll happen," I assured him with a sting of pain in my heart.

He sighed, scratching the back of his neck. "I'm just sayin'..."

"Sam."

"I'm tryna help, man." his reply sounded as a desperate whine. "If you do something stupid and her relationship goes south, the blame's gonna be on you."

"It wouldn't-"

"It will," he argued, lowering the voice before continuing. " 'cause it's easier to blame the ex who fucked her up."

"We're all adults."

"Yeah" he agreed. "but you're my friend and I don't wanna see you bawling and weeping for another year."

"I'll be just fine."

[roseonhissleeve]

Bloom — Part I — Summer

REQUEST: Can u write a fan fic about the girl owning a flower shop and Harry coming in to get flowers for someone else but then they fall in love because love is beautiful like a flower

Started writing this oneshot and it turned into four oneshots. I changed it up a bit, but I hope you enjoy. x

The first time that Harry came to her shop, she barely said a word to him.

She knew when she opened her flower shop that Harry Styles lived nearby. It’s basically all that her friends back home could talk about when she announced where she was moving—they were diehard fans, and a few of them even begged her to take them with her so that they could meet the infamous Harry Styles.

She wasn’t shy, and she wasn’t one to get starstruck when face to face with a celebrity (not that she’d ever really met one). But the first time of many that Harry Styles walked into her flower shop, he was on a date.

His date wasn’t a big name or anything, and didn’t look familiar at all. But he was very much enthralled with her—he seemed like the kind of man to give you all his attention when he’s set aside time for you, and that was something she rarely ever really saw. She busied herself behind the counter of the shop, counting receipts and moving some stuff around so that she didn’t look like she was eavesdropping, which she wasn’t.

The shop that she owned wasn’t very big at all—it was just big enough to hold a small greenhouse garden in the back that she used to grow her flowers, as well as the storefront where she sold them (among the shipments she received from other greenhouses that were much larger than her own). It wasn’t exactly LARGE by any standards but she enjoyed it that way. Except it meant that there really wasn’t anywhere to hide, so when Harry Styles and his date decided to walk around and look at her bouquets, she couldn’t help but overhear.

“Did I tell yeh that yeh look beautiful tonight,” he said with a grin, his hand resting on his date’s face as he gazed at her features.

Don’t eavesdrop, she thought to herself, fidgeting with the pastel purple shirt that she had on.

She counted out the change that she had in her register, not processing the giggles and voices that she heard on the other side of the room. About five minutes afterwards she was interrupted by Harry’s voice, this time talking to her.

“S’cuse me,” he said, causing her to look up from her register.

The first thing she noticed were exactly how green his eyes were. Sure, she knew that they were green—her friend had a life-sized poster of him to prove it—but seeing them in person was…different. It was as if “green” alone wasn’t enough to describe them, not enough to do them justice. His eyes were the color of the first warm day after a long, cold winter. The kind where you step out into the fresh air and breathe, and you didn’t even realize how much you missed the sun until it reflected on your skin.

“How can I help you?” She asked kindly, flashing a warm smile in his direction. He was cupping a small flower pot in his large palms, one that held a trio of daisies in it.

“How much is it for these flowers?” He asked, setting it atop of the counter in front of her.

“Six pounds,” she replied, and he flashed her a smile and nodded his head a couple of times while he reached back into the pocket of his pants, searching for his wallet. While he did so she rung in the flowers in the register, the sound of the pressing buttons filling the air as she glanced over at his date who was peering out the window by the door.

“S’a nice store you have,” he commented as he held out the money to her in exact change, causing her to turn her attention away from the woman and back to his face. It took her a second to realize that he’d complimented her. “I haven’t seen it before—have yeh been here long?”

“Two weeks tomorrow,” she replied with a smile, taking his money from his grasp and ringing it into the register. Once she’d finished that she reached underneath the counter to pull out a small notepad. “Still waiting for business to pick up, but it’s been lovely so far. Definitely a nice change of scenery from my last job.”

“I’ll be sure to recommend yeh,” he assured her.

“Thank you,” she smiled, handing him his receipt and the note that she had written. “I wrote down some instructions. Two tablespoons of water every other day, don’t overwater. And make sure they get plenty of sun, but keep them room temperature or they’ll dry up.”

“Cheers,” he grinned, giving her a final nod before turning around to return to his date. He held the flowers out to her and she gave him a kiss on the cheek, both of them walking out of her store, only leaving behind the ringing of the bell that danced above the front door even time it opened.

That was the last time she thought she’d ever see Harry Styles.

*

The next time she saw Harry was three weeks later.

She was watering her flowers when he walked into the store. She was too focused on the song that she was humming quietly to hear the bells jingling upon the door opening, mentally jamming out to Ed Sheeran as she eyeballed how much water she was dripping into each little flower pot.

“Hullo,” he said cheerily (and quite suddenly), causing her to shriek a little jump up from her crouching position on the floor. He flashed her a dimpled grin and chuckled briefly. “M’sorry, didn’t mean to give yeh a scare.”

“It’s alright,” she said with a slight laugh. She had to admit, a small part of her was overjoyed that she was seeing him again. But it was a small part that she very much decided to ignore for the time being. “How are the flowers doing?”

“Two tablespoons every other day, it’s doing the trick,” he said, folding his arms over his chest with a grin. “I’m actually here to purchase some more, but I’m not sure which ones to go with.”

“For yourself?” She asked, mostly out of habit. She made small talk with all of her customers, and she immediately began scanning the store for flowers that she thought would suit him.

“For a date,” he clarified, causing her to stop her mental search and look at his features again. “A first date, actually. I was going to buy a bouquet at the grocery store originally, but then I thought, they’re gonna die in a week anyways. Might as well buy somethin’ tha’s gonna last, and I thought of you.”

“That’s very sweet of you,” she replied, returning to her task as she glanced around the store for something she hoped he’d like. She saw something out of the corner of her eye and turned around to walk towards it, Harry following close behind. “So the last date didn’t work out?”

“Not exactly,” he admitted, tucking his hands in his pockets as he watched her scan the row of flowers in front of them.

“Mind if I ask why?” She questioned, tongue sticking out of the corner of her lip slightly as she searched for a particular flower that she had in mind. He remained silent for a moment, and she was starting to think that she’d gone to far when he finally spoke.

“She didn’t laugh at my jokes,” he replied, and she paused her search to look over at his features. As soon as she did she read the hints of mischief on his face, giving away that he was clearly joking around. She smiled and couldn’t help but chuckle to herself, shaking her head as she spun around on her heels.

“Aha!” She exclaimed, walking across the room as soon as she located the specific type of flower that she’d been looking for. Harry followed quickly, excited about the grand reveal of what she’d been searching for so adamantly.

“Lilies,” she announced, grabbing the vase that held the handful of flowers together and turning around to set them in his hands. “Their natural lifespan is one to two weeks, so it is a very low commitment flower. Low risk, perfect for a first.”

“Perfect,” he grinned, and she led him over to the cash register to ring him up.

“I’ve been getting a lot more customers the past couple of weeks, you know,” she said as she walked around to the opposite side of the counter. It was true—in the past little while the amount of people that walked into her little shop had definitely increased, not-so-coincidentally after Harry dropped in that one fateful night. “I’ve been informed by many that you’re the one I have to thank for it.”

“Oh?” He mused, watching her as she scribbled a few words on a small notepad similar to the one that she’d given him the last time he’d seen her.

“Thank you,” she said softly, looking up at him and flashing a kind smile. He couldn’t help but smile back—and there was a part of him that made him want to do anything and everything to make that smile appear every second of every day.

“One pot of lilies, on the house,” she announced as she slid the flower pot towards him over the counter, handing him the note that she’d written with instructions similar to the last. He flashed her a grin as he took ahold of the items, tucking the note carefully into his back pocket.

“Thank you,” he said before turning around and heading for the door. “Wish me luck!”

That was the last thing he said before he headed out the front door, and the room immediately shifted and felt like it had lost a little bit of its radiance.

She could definitely get used to him being around more often.

Bloom: Part II

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[anotherfandomwriter]

Breathe (Negan/Group x Reader)

Word Count: 5,084 (Yeeaahhh...)

Warnings: Cursing

(Part 1, Part 2)

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With a forceful push to the wooden double doors, Negan revealed my new living quarters. Needless to say, it was huge. No words came to my mind and my mouth fell agape as my eyes danced around the luxurious room. Coincidentally, it was decked out in (y/f/c), my favorite color. My room back in Alexandria was the exact same color, but fell short in size comparison.

"Like it?" Negan asked from behind me.

"Uh, yeah," I stammered, struggling to find the right words to describe how I felt. In the normal world, I wouldn't have even been able to afford looking at a room like this. "It's, it's... Wow!" I finally breathed.

"Furnished it myself," he proudly claimed, standing beside me and joining me as I continued eyeballing the room. "I had a few of my wives decorate it to give it a little -er- 'flair.'"

"'Flair?'" I snorted at him, amazed that I heard him use that word.

"What? Isn't that what you'd call it?" He innocently wondered.

I'll admit, that was kind of cute. What the hell am I saying?!

"I mean, sure," I shook it off. "I've just never heard a guy use that word before."

"Me either, but that doesn't leave the room," he whispered.

I stifled a laugh, wandering around the room. "No kitchen?" I pondered out loud.

"The people here cook for and, let me tell you, I was lucky to find 'em. We've got some damn talented chefs here!" As I listened to him, I brushed my hand over the silk, (y/f/c) comforter. "Bathroom's through that door back there," he directed my attention with Lucille to the back right corner, "and my room is right across the hall."

I couldn't think of what else to say. "It's amazing." I turned back to him and looked straight into his dark chocolate eyes. "Thank you."

"Anything for my sweet fiancée," he smiled, sauntering up to me and brushing a careful finger across my cheek. I never thought this man could have a soft side, and I could've sworn that I saw him let his guard down. Something in his eyes and his gentle touch had me captivated and I stood there, helplessly petrified. I can say one thing: he's so dangerously charming that he could convince someone to dive off of a cliff.

"So," he purred, his enticing brown eyes holding me captive as his finger traveled under my chin slowly tilting my head back and bringing my lips closer to his. "Why don't you make yourself at home, and I'll come later with a little surprise?" My heart felt as if it was going to explode as his unexpectedly soft pink lips teasingly brushed against mine.

"O-Okay," I stammered.

"That's my girl," he grinned. He released me from my trance and sauntered out the door. "Be ready as soon as I get back."

"Right," I breathed, quickly nodding. With an evil wink, he closed the door behind him. Before my knees could collapse beneath me, I stumbled to the bed cautiously lowering myself down. The breath caught in my throat rushed out in frantic, quick puffs. My fingers raked through the roots of my hair as my heart pounded in my ears and made my stomach churn.

"Breathe," I thought to myself. "Just breathe. It's almost over." The hope for Daryl to successfully escape this place and round up the rest of the group to overthrow the Saviors is still in me, but Negan's deceit and charm is practically drowning me. I want to get out and stay loyal to my family yet I've succumbed so easily to this sociopath. Taking a deep breath, I decided to take a shower and calm down. _____________________________________

"Hey, sweetheart!" A familiar gravely voice called from outside the door, "it's me! I hope you're ready!"

Coincidentally, I had just finished drying my hair. With a sigh, I trudged to the door and allowed it to creak open. There he was, leaning against the doorpost clad in leather but no Lucille.

Huh. That's different.

Instead, he held a medium black box wrapped with red ribbon. "I gotcha somethin'." He grinned from ear to ear, holding it out to me. Confused, I took the box from him and placed it on my bed, carefully tugging off the ribbon and lifting the lid from the box to reveal a black dress. Grabbing it by the sleeves, I gingerly lifted it out of the box. It definitely wasn't a dress you'd wear just to wear it, and it was not the kind I'd want to wear in front of my grandmother. It almost looked too small.

"Where did you get this?' I curiously asked, holding it up to my body.

"Like I said, I've got some pretty great scavengers around here," he shrugged. "Why don't you go try it on for me?"

I whipped my head in his direction. "What?"

"I mean, I figured you'd want some fresh clothes," he said pointedly, stepping towards me. "Plus," he added softly, "it'll make me very happy. You want me to be happy, dontcha?" Gulping, I nodded and lit for the bathroom. "Wait." I froze in my steps. "You don't have to go all the way over there to try it on."

My face turned beet red at his suggestion. "Wha-what do you mean?"

"I think you know what I mean, baby," he chuckled. I blinked at him. "Aw, come on. It's no big deal, right?" Actually, it's a HUGE deal. I've spent only about three days with this man, and he's already asking me to change in front of him?! "Tell you what," he bargained, "how 'bout I turn around and let you do your thing? I won't look, I swear." Clamping a hand over his eyes for emphasis, he dramatically turned around to face the door.

I rolled my eyes but took quick advantage of the time to turn from him, strip off my old clothes, and wiggle into the small, skimpy dress. The fabric was tight enough to perfectly fit my form, the sleeves were about three inches wide and hugged my shoulders, and it stopped just above my thighs.

Sighing, I cleared my throat clarifying that I was dressed as I turned back to him only to see that he was already eyeballing me like a famished lion. I looked down, avoiding his eyes; I knew he didn't have the decency or control to give me some privacy. He blew a low whistle through his lips and bit his bottom lip. "Hot damn, girl! Just look at you! I mean, this is just downright sexy but seeing you in almost nothing had me pretty antsy."

Of course he looked.

 He laughed loudly as my face turned a deeper red. Upon realizing my embarrassment, his teasing subsided. "Oh, I see. Uh, sorry about that." He paused, gesturing to me. "You really do look nice, and I mean that."

I offered a half-hearted smile. "Thanks." A moment of silence passed before I spoke again. "Er, Negan?"

"What is it, sweetheart?" He answered gently.

I turned on the charm, walking up to him and brushing a hand up his arm. His eyes glazed over with lust. "Would you happen to have any--I don't know--extra clothes? Like, this is nice but I don't want to wear it all the time and get it ruined, you know?" My hand swept across his broad chest.

Instantly, his face lit up. "You know what? That's a great idea!"

My hand stopped at his neck. "What is?"

"You have extra clothes at home, right?"

"Yes," I answered slowly, still not following.

"So, why don't we stop by early, get our shit, and you can get some of your stuff to bring back?"

Oh no.

"Yeah! It'll be a BIG surprise for your family! I've missed seeing them, anyways."

Oh God. I stepped away from him. "B-but you said you'd return in a week-"

"Hey, they're generally ahead of schedule, right? Resourceful?"

Of course. "Uhh-"

"Perfect!" He threw an arm around my waist and led me out the door. "Let's round up the troops 'cause it's time for a little road trip!"

Shit. ________________________________________

I silently sat in the passenger seat of the gigantic truck as Negan sped to Alexandria. I wasn't exactly sure how he knew the way there but it didn't take much effort. As soon as we got to the gates, he put on the air brakes and parked it. I could hear other vehicles stopping and turning off their engines as he pressed a sloppy kiss to my cheek. "Time to meet the rest of the family!" He cheerfully exclaimed as he hopped out of the truck and slammed the door shut.

Before he could reach the front of the gate, I stepped out and followed him at a distance. I watched as he whistled brightly swinging Lucille in his right hand and sang the first four notes of Beethoven's 5th. Lucille banged loudly on the gate three times. "Little pig, little pig, let me in!" He called in a sing-songy tone. The gate rattled as it was rolled open to reveal the entrance to Alexandria and a confused Spencer, a frightened Eugene, and an irked Rosita.

"Well?" Negan inquired as Spencer blankly stared at him.

"Um, who are you?" I guess Rick hasn't told anyone yet.

He bounced on his heels in amusement. "Oh, you better be jokin'. Negan, Lucille. I know I had to make a pretty strong impression." As Negan subjugated Spencer, Rick marched up to the gate with a scowl. "Well, hello, there," he mockingly greeted him. I gulped as Rick stared him down. "Do not make me have to ask."

"You said a week," Rick answered, moving to open the gate. "You're early." The gate creaked as Rick opened it up.

"I missed you," Negan answered with a ridiculous grin on his lips. A familiar, raspy growl sounded from behind me and, sure enough, a walker came squeezing through the many vehicles parked in front of the gate. "Oh, Rick, come on out here! Watch this!" I moved away from the walker as Negan advanced. "Calling it!" With a single blow, the walker fell to the ground as Negan laughed. "Easy peasy, lemon squeezy! Ain't that right, beautiful?" He grabbed my hand and brought me into him with an arm wrapped around my waist. With a half smile, I nodded. I met Rick's blue eyes that suddenly swam with sadness.

"All right, everybody," he announced to the Saviors who stood behind us. "Let's get started. Big day." Rick's eyes scanned the rest of the crowd until they landed on Daryl. "Hey, Rick, you see that? What I just did? That is some service! I mean, we almost get turned away at the gate. 'Who is that guy, anyways?' Do I get mad? Do I throw a fit? Do I bash some ginger's head in?" Well, he did. “Nope. I just take care of these dead pricks that could've killed one of y'all." He flashed a theatrical grin and bowed to Rick, circling his arm out and bringing it down. "Service." Chuckling, he held Lucille out to Rick. "Hold this," he mumbled, swaggering his way into Alexandria while I stood back and watched as Rick took a long, distasteful look at Lucille who taunted him with the blood stains still on her wooden skin.

"How're you guys holding up?" I asked, cautiously walking up to him. His blue eyes, lacking of their usual intensity and clarity, met mine and softened.

"We're all right," he whispered. "Just...y'know..."

"Right," my voice wavered.

"Hot diggity dog!" Negan exclaimed. "This is magnificent! An embarrasment of riches, as they say." He turned back to us. "Hey," he snapped his fingers, "up here with me, gorgeous." I glanced appologetically at Rick as I briskly made my way next to him. His strong arm wrapped itself around my waist. "Yes, sir, I do believe you are gonna have plenty to offer up."

Rick looked back at Daryl who stood silently behind him. "Daryl, hey--"

"No," Negan said sternly. "Nope." He walked between the two of them. "He's the help. You don't look at him, you don't talk to him, and I don't make you chop anything off of him." Rick stared incredulously at him, then took his advice and turned away from him. With an amused smirk, Negan turned to Rosita who stared worriedly at Daryl. "Same goes for everyone," Negan claimed in a sing-song tone. Crossing her arms, she avoided his glaring and continued to look at Daryl. I shook my head as Negan lead his head closer to her ear. "Right?" Tightening her jaw and glowering up at him, she obeyed and calmly moved away from him.

Negan snickered, bouncing in excitement with a wide grin. "A lot of suspense there," he chuckled as he exhaled sharply. "I don't think she even knew how much." He blew out another breath. "All right, let's get this show on the road. See what kinda goodies you got in the cupboard."

"We put aside half the supplies-" Rick tried to explain.

"No, Rick." He turned back to him with a disapproving look. "No. You don't decide what we take. I do." Rick cast his eyes to the ground, tightening his hands into fists. "Arat," Negan called to the scrappy young woman next to me.

"You heard the man," she barked as they stood there and practically drooled out the corners of their mouths. "Move out!"

As the Saviors made their way around Alexandria, the residents stood utterly confused outside as they watched the scene. Negan mockingly clapped his hands for his followers obeying orders like dogs. Rick glanced at him for an explanation. "They're just gonna search the houses a bit, keep the process goin'." He drew out a long breath. "All right. You gonna show me around or not?" Rick's face twitched angrily. "Well?" Without even looking up at him, he led him into Alexandria.

"And where have you been all this time?" I turned to Spencer who was subtly eyeballing me.

"Where do you think?" I retorted, rolling my eyes.

"What, you decide to abandon us and join the winning side?" He sneered.

"It's not like that," I groaned, running a hand through my hair.

He snorted. "Sure as hell looks like it to me. He's seduced you with his brute strength and lavish clothes, and you came here to rub it in?"

My nerves snapped as he continued to nip at me. "Say another word, Spencer. I dare you." A hand grabbed onto my wrist. I looked back to see Daryl shaking his head.

"Oh, so now you're threatening to kill one of your own?"

My breaths turned into short puffs of anger as I ripped my arm out of Daryl's grip and advanced towards Spencer. "Whoa, whoa, whoa." Dwight got between the two of us, placing his hands on my shoulders.

"D!" Negan boomed as he quickly grabbed my waist and tore me away from him. "That's two, man. I've said it before," he turned to where everyone could hear him, practically showing me off like a prize, "this one is mine! NO ONE messes with her!" I looked down as all eyes and ears were on me. Now, everyone knows.

"Breathe," I thought to myself. "Just breathe. It's almost over." _______________________________________

"You see this?" Negan asked as we walked past some of the Saviors dragging out furniture. "This is the sort of thing that just tickles my balls. A little cooperation, and everything is pleasant as punch."

"Except for your vulgarity," I thought to myself.

"You see, we really are reasonable people once you get to know us. Honest." He reached into a cooler, whipping out a soda can with a gasp. He clicked it open, took a long swig, and finished with a sigh. "Here, babe. Have some." He held it out to me but I shook my head. "Oh come on, hon," he leaned in close to me but said to where everyone could hear, "it's not like we haven't swapped saliva before." Pressing my lips into a firm line, I took the can from him and took a good sip as he howled with laughter. After I finished, he took it from me and threw it into the grass. "Damn, I love this place!"

"Negan," one of the men called to him holding a video camera. "Somethin' you might want to see."

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" He took it from him, looking over it. I recognized that as the camera Deanna used to interview us whenever we came to Alexandria. "I got my fingers crossed for a little freaky-deaky!" I sighed quietly, shaking my head. I cannot believe I agreed to marry this man.

With an audible beep, the camera turned on, and Rick's scraggly beard and dangerous blue eyes appeared on the screen. The Rick who was unafraid and would effortlessly take care anyone who threatened him.

"I've killed people," he admitted in his low, gravely voice. "I don't know how many by now, but I know why they're all dead."

"Jee-hee-sus!" Negan gaped. "Is that you, Rick, underneath all that man-bush? Shee-ot! I would not have messed with that guy!" He turned off the recording, stepped back and started recording Rick as he blankly looked at the ground. "But that's not you anymore. Is it?" He sniffed, turning the camera to his face. "Nope!" He turned the camera off, looking at me and running a hand over his fairly-bearded chin. "I really got to shave this shit." He looked around, puzzled for some reason. "Whatever happened to that sick girl? That seemed like a hell of a stressful night for her."

"Maggie." My heart clenched at the memory of that night. "Poor Maggie."

"The way she carried on, she was married to number two, right?"

"His name was Glenn," I thought to myself.

Rick's eyes matched up with Negan's in an intense, hateful glare. "Careful," Negan reminded him. "Careful how you're lookin' at me, Rick." He backed down, glancing away from him. "Widows, especially ones that look like that..." He sharply exhaled. "they...are special. I love 'em. Right after their husbands go, they are just...empty inside. But usually not for long." My nostrils flared in disgust as he carelessly laughed suggestively. "Ahh. Where is she? I would love to see her."

I'd had enough. "You're not gonna lay a-"

"Do you care to pay your respects?" Thank God for Father Gabriel.

"Ho-ly crap!" Negan jumped. "You are creepy as shit, sneaking up on me, wearin' that collar with a freaky-ass smile." I snickered to myself. Good ol' Father Gabriel and his perfectly poor timing.

"My apologies," he replied. "I'm Father Gabriel." He looked over at me with a warm smile. "Good to see you, (Y/n)."

"'Pay your respects?'" I repeated hoarsely.

"She didn't make it?" Negan asked. Rick sighed, shaking his head. My hands flew to my mouth. Not Maggie, too. That's three too many.

"Breathe." _____________________________________

"Damn tragedy." Negan sighed. "That's what this is. Well, this must really suck for you guys." No shit, Sherlock. "Number one? That was on me. No choice there. Lessons had to be learned. But number two? That didn't need to happen. Daryl, there, he forced my hand. Probably put her right on her back, huh? Damn." Rick and Father Gabriel exchanged a glance.

It must be a trick.

"I was gonna ask her to come back with me." We all glared daggers at him. "Oh, I know what you're thinkin'. How could I have a shot, guy that just bashed her husband's head in? You'd be surprised." He snuck a side glance at me. "Take this hot piece of ass for example. She finally agreed to-"

A gunshot and glass breaking stopped him from finishing his announcement. It sounded like it came from Rick's house. Rick led the way into the house, but before I could enter Negan stopped me. "Why don't you go get your stuff from your place and put them in the truck?" Without arguing, I nodded.

"Can I bring Daryl to help me?" I carefully asked.

With a stony expression, Negan glanced back at him and right back at me. "No."

"Please?" I batted my eyes at him, dragging my finger up his arm, making him squirm a bit.

"Only if I get a reward whenever we get home," he purred, waggling his eyebrows at me.

A sickening shiver went up my spine. "Whatever you want."

"Fine." He pointed at Daryl. "Not a word, and no funny business."

I thanked him, then he swiftly smacked my rear and sent us on our way. Biting my tongue and clenching my jaw, I went across the street with Daryl in tow. We walked through the front door, and there were already people raiding my stuff. I decided to take advantage of my authority then and there. "Excuse me, but what the hell is this?"

One of the men who had a scraggly beard turned to me. "Negan said for us to search every house-"

"Every house but mine. Correct?" I snapped.

"Uh, well-"

"If you two don't put everything you've taken back in their original places, you will be at the mercy of Negan." I looked between the two of them; their faces were pale as ghosts. "Any questions?" They shook their heads. "Good. Now, get out!" They lit out of the house in under a second. "Huh," I giggled. "Cool." I turned to Daryl who looked like a kicked puppy. "The coast should be clear. Go get yourself something from the fridge."

"I don't think that's a good idea," he mumbled.

"Please," I begged, carefully placing my hands on his shoudlers. "You need it."

"You can't seduce me, (Y/n). I ain't gonna eat out of your hand." He suddenly sneered as he brushed my hands off of me and moved by me to my room.

"Daryl," I groaned. "Don't do this. I'm not doing it for my sake, and you know that."

"You didn't have to throw yourself at him," he grumbled.

"Accepting his offer is what's keeping our group, and us, alive!"

"No, you did it for yourself!” He accused at the top of his lungs. You didn't have anyone to do it for which makes you selfish!"

"I did it for you, Daryl," I snarled through my teeth. He opened his mouth, but abruptly stopped. "I didn't have anyone there but you, okay. I can't watch you die. It's hard enough watching you suffer everyday just to keep our family alive, and I've lost the closest thing I had to a brother." I got up in his face, pushing my finger into his chest. "Do not tell me my decision was selfish."

He stared incredulously at me, not knowing what to say. Shaking my head, I walked past him to my room, whipped out a suitcase, and started throwing clothes into it. "M’sorry," I heard him mumble from behind me.

"It's fine," I responded, keeping my focus on fitting most of my clothes into the suitcase.

"D'ya want me to help out?" He offered.

"If you want," I shrugged. "I still want you to go eat something." I heard him breathe a laugh from behind me, then he came next to me, and started grabbing some of my things. "Thank you."

"No problem."

After about 10 minutes of loading up my things, I saw Rick, Aaron, and Father Gabriel run to Spencer's house. "What's goin' on?" Daryl pondered.

"Maybe we should go check?" I assumed.

"I can't. You go ahead, and I'll stay here and load your stuff."

I smiled at him, standing on my toes to peck his cheek. "Thanks again, Daryl." I ran straight to Spencer's house to see Rick practically tearing Spencer's living room apart while Aaron and Gabriel stood idly by.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"They're taking all of our weapons," Aaron answered.

"They said they'd only take half!" I shouted as anger rose in me.

"Carl threatened him,” Rick explained, “and Negan says we're short two guns.  He's gonna kill Olivia if we don't find them."

My eyes widened. "So who has them?"

"No one spoke up," he sighed. "Spencer isn't here, so we're checking for them."

"I don't blame you," I muttered.

"Spencer's done this kind of thing beforfe. We keep looking. Maybe today works out."

"I'll check the garage," Aaron affirmed.

"I'll look in Deanna's office again." Gabriel said. Rick slapped him on the shoulder, and went on his way.

"I'll help you, Rick," I suggested. He looked back at me with a gracious smile and a nod, so we continued our search.

"Are they treating you well over there?" Rick asked over his shoulder.

"Yeah," I shrugged. "No one's really allowed to mess with me but Negan, so..." I trailed off.

Rick straightened up, turning to face me with a serious expression. "Has he...has he tried to, I mean-"

"No," I answered. He breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed a bit. "I won't let him take advantage of me."

"Good," he grunted. He then noticed the vent, curiously taking the cover off. Lo and behold, he began pulling out several cans of food, a liquor bottle, and a black silk bag with the two handguns.

My blood boiled as Rick looked up at me, showing the guns. "Kick his ass for me whenever he gets back, okay?" He half-heartedly chuckled, gathering them and running outside to give Negan the guns. "Hey," I called before he could run out of the house. "I still have food in my kitchen. It's free game for y'all." He nodded gratefully at me and made his way out while I went back to my house to help Daryl and get the rest of my stuff. ___________________________________

"Got whatcha need, sweetheart?"

I tossed my final suitcase in the truck and slammed the door shut. "Yeah," I mumbled, joining his side as Rick and Michonne came walking towards us. Across Michonne's shoulders was a white tailed deer, and Rick held Lucille in one hand and a rifle that didn't look like one of ours in the other.

"Look at this!" Negan mused as Michonne walked by him, avoiding his eyes.

"I thought she was out scavenging. She was out hunting," Rick admitted. "This one never came inside. We kept it near the line." He handed Negan the rifle.

"Look at this," Negan repeated stepping towards Rick. "This is something to build a relationship on. Good for you, Rick," he beamed. "This is readin' the room and gettin' the message. I've said it before, I'm gonna say it again: You, sir...are special."

"Now that you know we can follow your rules..." Rick spoke up.

"Yes?" Negan replied unctuously.

"...I'd like to ask you if Daryl and (Y/n) can stay," Rick finished.

"Not happenin'," Negan immediately answered. Rick turned his head, glancing sideways at him. "You know what? I don't know. Maybe Daryl can plead his case. Maybe Daryl can sway me. Daryl?" He looked back at him, but Daryl kept his eyes glued to the ground. I wanted to scream at him to just give in and say something yet I was glad the fight was still in him. Negan laughed, facing Rick again. "Well, you tried. Now what you gotta do is get over that tall wall of yours and try harder out there. Earn for me because we're coming back soon, and when we do you better have something interesting for us or Lucille, she's gonna have her way."

"W-what about (Y/n)?" Rick asked.

"That fine piece of ass I decided not to kill that night?" He howled with laughter. "Not a chance! At least, not after she agreed to marry me!"

Rick's head snapped toward me, his eyes wide open. "In fact, she insisted!" I gasped as Negan grabbed me by the waist and pulled me against him. "She practically threw herself in my arms. Ain't that right, baby?" He forced his slobbery lips to mine, kissing me as noticably sloppy and deep as possible, and my face turned red in shame as he pulled away. "She is gonna be my lawfully wedded wife, and has pledged her allegiance to me. Ain't that a treat?" I cringed as everyone had their eyes on us.

"Now, Rick, I want you to hear that again: If you don't have something interesting for us, somebody's gonna die. And no more magic guns." He turned to the Saviors. "Arat, grab that deer. It's getting late. Let's go home. The missus and I have a dinner date tonight." He squeezed my side and released me, pushing me towards the truck.

I looked back at Rick who seemed as heartbroken as ever. I wanted to run back to him and let him know I was all right and that everything will work out. Alas, Negan had already hoisted me into the passenger seat, grabbed Lucille from Rick, and gotten into the driver's seat.

"You called that pussy your leader?" Clenching my fists, I slowly nodded keeping my eyes on Rick who continued to stare at the ground.

"He's not a bad leader either," I retorted.

"Sure as hell seems like it to me," Negan snorted.

Before too long, we were back at the Sanctuary and Negan had walked me to my room. I kept in mind what I’d said earlier about his “reward,” but, as long as I keep my mouth shut, he might forget

"So, I guess I'll see you in the morning," I mumbled, aimlessly trying to shut the door before Negan stopped it with his foot.

"Hold up, sweetheart," he purred, pushing it back open. "Remember whenever you said I'd get a reward for allowing you to borrow Daryl?" I gulped and backed away as he advanced towards me. "I mean, getting to see you in that thing is reward enough, but," I suddenly fell back on the bed behind me, "I'd rather see you without it."

I was not willing to go through this, but something clicked in my mind. "If I allow you to do this, will it guarantee the safety of my family?"

"It could," he whispered, dipping his head down to softly press his lips to my neck.

"Daryl, too?" I asked as my breath hitched.

"Depends on how well you respond, baby."

"Breathe," I thought to myself as his face leveled with mine. "Just breathe." His lips cascaded demandingly onto mine.

"It's almost over." ________________________________

I have no idea how to feel about this one.

I'm so sorry for the delay, guys! College has been pretty tough, but I'm more than willing to take time out to write for y'all!

ONE MORE WEEK UNTIL THE PREMIERE! Who's ready??? I am!

Well, it's pretty late here (2:15am) so I'm gonna leave this here. Thank you all SO much for the love and support! You guys are the best! -LGN

(Continue?)