#lucille i can fix you

[imakemywings]

Celebrating Christmas by introducing my sister to Crimson Peak

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Three for One 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As a customer service associate, you're used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what's on the shelf.

Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

Note: Right, this was supposed to be a drabble series but it morphed and not I'm fucked.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

It's the most special time of year! Mistletoe, jingle bells, and holiday cheer! Oh, and hot chocolate. Lots of that.

You hide your thermos under the desk and grab the crystal bottle again, giving a test spritz to the air. Your job isn't very complicated. All you do is say hi and chat about the perfume. Your manager says the job is selling but you don't like to see it that way.

You smile at a family of five as they veer towards the toy section. You don't think the six year old would be into an eau de parfum. It's understandable.

While you spend your hours wandering around expensive makeups and scents, you're filled with a certain hint of longing. For what you're paid to push the merchandise, you can't afford any of it yourself. Well, you've never been very materialistic.

You spin around and see a gentlemen approaching, though he doesn't seem to see you. He looks past you, almost through you. You stop in place and put on your best smile, fixing the red band around your head.

"Hello, sir, would you like to try some Gucci?" You offer and spray the nozzle at him.

He skids to a stop and recoils as if he's been slapped. He holds out his arm as he looks down at his coat, little droplets seeping into the fabric. He takes a whiff, his short mustache wiggling under his nose, and he scoffs as he tries to shake off the cologne.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He snips.

"Sorry, sir, I didn't mean to scare you."

"You just go around spray people with that horseshit?"

"Well, sir, with respect, I don't like that sort of language.

"And I don't like being drenched in dog piss," he blusters, "point me to the goddamn trimmers."

"Um, what kind? Nail trimmers? Pet trimmers? Garden trimmers?"

"What the fuck do you think?" He points to his own face.

You hold your smile. There's always that one customer who's having a bad day. Whatever's got him so upset must be worse than dealing with him.

"Personal care," you point to the far corner, "right over there, sir."

"Ugh," he stomps and storms off.

"I hope your day gets better," you call after him, "oh, did you want a store coupon--"

He ignores you as he waves you off over his shoulder. You watch him turn towards men's grooming and you shrug, rocking slightly. You try not to let them get to you. As jolly as you find this time of year, a lot of people don't feel the same.

You shrug off the encounter. You still have a few hours ahead of you and it's starting to bustle with customers. You help a couple find the home wares while keeping the boundary of cosmetics firm. Lucille, the manager, doesn't like you leaving your zone.

You approach a woman looking at the Prada selection and get her checked out with a new fragrance, specially gift-wrapped by yours truly. She leaves happy, a small victory for the day. You celebrate but not too much.

You come around the counter just as you see that man strutting back up. He has an item in his hand and ignores you as he passes. Still you smile at him.

"Annoying," he mutters under his breath.

"Need help finding anything else, sir?" You ask his heels.

He stops and you see the way his spine stiffens. Oh no, you shouldn't have said anything. He slowly turns to face you.

"You can shut up," he marches up to you and grabs the bottle from your hands, "shut." He sprays you in the face, "up." He squirts you several more times before shoving the vial against your chest, "stupid little girl."

You take the bottle, blinking as you use your cuff to wipe the perfume away from your eyes. He continues on his path as you stand dumbfounded, drenched in Gucci cologne. It's hard to breathe through the heavy scent and you can't help but cough.

What a jerk. Just because he's having a bad day, doesn't mean everyone needs to.

Slowly you grow accustomed to the smell of yourself. It’s not too unusual. You go nose blind about halfway through your shift once you spray a few too many samples. You keep your distance from customers, offering them a spritz but trying not to crowd them with the vapors of cologne rippling off of you.

You yawn as the afterwork rush floods in and you make another round, smiling at Sofia as she peeks over at you. She’s with another customer at the counter, ringing them up as she gabs. You spin at the display at the center of the crossway that runs through the beauty department and stagger back before another can run you over.

You apologise to the tall man as he skids to a stop on his soles. You can tell he’s in a hurry by the way he grips his briefcase and squares his jaw. He wears a long dark wool coat as flecks of snow melt into his thick beard.

“Oh, sorry, I er, wasn’t–” He clears his throat, collecting himself, “I… didn’t see you.”

“That’s okay, sir,” you assure him, “would you like to try the new scent?”

You hold up the onyx bottle but don’t spray him. You don’t need another dousing. He looks at the silver letters on the side then at you. The furrow in his brow lightens as his blue eyes swim.

“No thanks, but er, you think you could help me find something?”

“Of course,” you chime and lower the bottle, “are you looking for a gift for someone special?”

He nods, “my mother-in-law is on her way into town, I need a present. Maybe perfume?”

His tone is tinted with frustration as he reaches up to rub the back of his neck. He lets out a long sigh. He’s one of those shoppers; the last minute scrambler. You grasp the vial in one hand and tug at the front of your thick red sweater, you’re starting to get a bit toasty in the crowded store.

“How old is she?” You ask.

“Um,” he clamps his lips together and thinks, “hmmm, probably seventy-something? I’m sorry, I guess I should know that.”

“That’s okay, I… I would suggest some Liz Taylor,” you turn on your heel and wave him after you as you head off, “it’s a classic. Not so much a me scent but the older crowd likes it. Oh, and it’s on special so your wallet won’t hate it, either.”

You stop by the Diamonds display as you face him again. He follows at a pace and stops before the shelf, perusing the gold caps and crystal caps. He considers the rack in deep thought.

“Here,” you set down your bottle on a nearby table of seasonal decorations and take one from the display. You slip out a strip of cardstock and spray it with the sampler, “this one is gardenia. That was her favourite scent. It’s probably the least pungent.”

You offer him the sample and he eyes it. He slowly bends and sniffs the end of the paper. He wiggles his nose. It makes you sneeze too. As much as you’re a fan of the classic actress, her scents are dated.

“Smells like her,” he grumbles under his breath, “sure, I’ll take that.”

“Great,” you declare and trade the sampler for a boxed bottle, then retrieve your disposed Gucci vial, “would you like me to check you out, sir?”

“Is it faster?” 

“I can be fast,” you promise him, “this way.”

You go around the sparkling counters and he meets you across the till. You type in your log in, taking several tries to get your passcode right. The man places his briefcase on the counter,a hand resting on the edge.

“You know a lot about this stuff?” He prompts.

“Yeah, I guess,” you smile as you scan the perfume and tap the special offer on the screen, “kinda part of the job.”

“Hmm” he hums again, in that thoughtful manner. You look at him but he’s not looking at your face, “that’s a nice sweater.”

You look down at the red wool speckled with pearls. It’s new and one of your favourites already. You can’t help a little wiggle of your shoulders, “thanks!”

“Very… cheerful,” he muses as he takes out his wallet, “wish I could say the same of what awaits me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, sir, it’s that time of year, I guess,” you push the debit machine towards him and he taps his credit card, “I’m sure your mother-in-law will love the perfume.” The transaction approves and the receipt prompts, “would you like an email?”

“Nah, that’s fine,” he tucks his credit card away.

“Would you like it gift-wrapped?” You offer, “it’s free?”

He hovers his hand over his briefcase as he considers it. His eyes meet yours and his cheek dimples, “alright, yeah, that’s… that’s perfect. Thank you.”

“No problem,” you beam back at him, “let me just get some tissue paper…”

You murmur to yourself as you grab some gold tissue paper and a white gift bag with a Christmas tree embossed into the side. You carefully line up the small box on the paper and begin your intensive work. You're a master wrapper, you used to work at the wrapping station in the mall.

“What about you?” He asks before the silence can stretch too far, “you seeing family for the holidays? When you’re not working?”

“Um,” you smile as you look up, “I’m just hanging out with my dog. I bought him a bone.”

“A dog,” he nods, “your family live out of town?”

Usually, you ask the questions. It’s easier that way. It deflects the attention from you. It’s why you like the job; you can hear all about others and not have to think about yourself.

“Yeah, something like that,” you slip the wrapped box into the bag and fluff the tissue paper.

“Eh!” The loud exclamation makes you jump as the man merely turns his head, a tic in his jaw. His eyes narrow as another customer approaches, strutting with hands in his jacket pocket as he calls out, “Barber, what the hell?”

Your customer shifts towards the man, heels squeaking on the floor, “Hugh.”

“Don’t Hugh me, asshole,” the other man retorts, “you said you were busy? What’s the matter, you lose too much money last time?”

“Suzette is in town. Family dinner,” the man, Barber, drones dully.

“Ah, ditched for the old crone, I get it.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, wouldn’t you know it, poker night was canceled, something about not enough seats,” the man counters sharply.

“Next week,” the first man growls.

“Hey, you,” the man in the russet coat snaps his fingers in your direction, “you got some of that Acqua di Gio. That dumb girl over there said you’re sold out.”

Your brows pop up and you swallow tightly. He’s another type. The arrogant demander. He doesn’t hear no. He’ll ask everyone the same question in hope of getting a different answer.

“We are out of stock, sir, but I could order it in for you,” you suggest.

“Order in? I can just go on Amazon, thanks for nothing,” he chops his hand at you dismissively.

“Hey,” the other man nudges his chest, “be nice. She’s working.”

“What? I’m here to spend money and they got shit all–”

“It’s December,” the other man reproaches before he turns back to you, “sorry, my friend is a jerk.” He accepts the gift bag as you hold it out, “thank you. You saved me.”

“No problem, but er, I was gonna say,” you turn to the other man, “sir, I have some samples of the Armani. I could give you those while you wait for the order.”

“Samples?” He echoes, “how many?”

“Let me have a look,” you back up and go to the drawer at the back of the checkout.

“I gotta get going, miss,” the first man waves his hand as you peek over your shoulder, “have a happy holiday.”

“You too,” you chirp back and find the last few tubes of Armani. You claim them and prance back to meet the new customer at the counter, “I have five.” You lay out your wares, “if I order in a bottle it’ll be in just before Christmas.”

“Two weeks?” He puffs.

“I’m sorry, sir, that’s the earliest I can do. It’s the last day I can guarantee delivery before Christmas.”

“Talk, talk, talk, order it,” he snaps.

“Right, let me just…” you open the shop and search up the scent. You add it to the cart and proceed. “Alright, got that, did you want it shipped for pick up here or to your address.”

“Here, they can never fucking find my house,” he sniffs.

“Great, so when it arrives, we’ll give you a call. You’ll also get an email to confirm.”

“What’s going on here?” He points at you suddenly. You look down again at your sweater but don’t see anything amiss. You flinch as he reaches to pinch one of the pearls, “what is this?”

“Oh, I… my sweater,” you raise your head, swallowing down the insult. It’s cute!

“Huh, Walmart clearance, huh,” he scoffs, “alright, how much are you robbing me for?”

He reaches into his coat as you hit total. You read out the final amount but he doesn’t pull out a card; he hands you cash. You count the bills, twice over, then give him his change. He looms with impatient huffs.

“Here’s your receipt,” you hand him the strip of paper. “Have a good day, sir.”

“Mmm,” he pokes his tongue into his cheek as he shoves the receipt into his pocket, “actually, while I’m here, I’d like a new sweater. You can help me and I’ll show you what real quality is.”

You almost laugh. Not spitefully, it’s just a bit silly. He’s competing with you, a perfume pusher.

“Well, sir, I can point you towards men’s fashion but I’m not able to leave this department, I’m sorry,” you give a sheepish smile.

“Oh no, good girl wouldn’t want to break the rules,” he rolls his eyes, “goody goody and her precious little smile.” He hooks his thumbs in his pockets, “my shit better be in by Christmas.”

He twists and strides away. You watch him go but not for long as you’re quickly distracted by a customer looking at the Britney Spears collection. Those are easy sellers.

[cultofdixon]

Plagued by the horrors of the past

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • All Daryl wants to do is make sure his pregnant partner remains safe, even from the nightmares • ANGST/SFW • TW: Pregnancy / Nightmares / Minor Injuries

Requested by: Anon

Eeny…WACK

Meeny…WACK

Miny…WACK

Negan stopped right in front of Y/N gripping the handle of Lucille with both hands.

“Moe” and right before the bat met her skull

Y/N opened her eyes feeling the tightness in her chest grow worse but she relaxed slightly when feeling her husband secure his arm around her middle just above her bump. She gently tapped his arm indicating for him to let go so she could get up and pee. At least that’s what Daryl thinks.

But all she did was sit on the edge of the bathtub holding her belly and thinking about her nightmare.

It’s been happening since she found out she was pregnant. Along with a million other things that made her feel guilty since the end of the Savior’s war.

How could you?

How could you be happy and pregnant with a loving husband when your best friend lost hers?

He will never get to see his son grow up.

Never get to hold his loving wife at night and whisper sweet nothings to her.

Same with Abe and Sasha.

They never got the life they wanted to share with each other.

But you did.

Isn’t that selfish?

“Sunshine…”

His voice startled her slightly as she lifted her head showing the exhaustion written all over her face.

“Are you feeling alright?” Daryl knelt on the cold tile positioning himself in front of her and resting his hand on her belly which brought out a more concerned look. “She giving you trouble?”

“No she’s perfect…and I’m just. Tired” Y/N sighs running her hand through her hair as she watches Daryl bring himself back to a standing position, extending his hands to her.

“I don’t think being in here will help much with that” Daryl knew about the nightmares. He tries to help in any way without addressing it because Y/N would deny that she’s not ok. Constantly telling him she’s fine.

He knows she’s not.

Y/N did manage to get at least three hours in before she received a hard kick in the ribs which woke her that time. Besides it was the now morning instead of late in the night when she woke so time to do things around the place. Even if Daryl tells her not to do a lot of things. But to his surprise…

“I think you should take it—-“

“I’m gonna lay in bed for a bit longer…don’t let me hold you back from your day, Dar” Y/N didn’t see the worry in his face when she said such, even if it’s what he wanted. For her to take it easy.

Daryl readjusted himself to lean against the headboard noticing Y/N inch closer when he did such. He brought his arm around her shoulders leading her to lay on him and while she was hesitant at first, she didn’t care for much long and brought herself to lay on him.

“You won’t be late for anything?”

“Don’t got stuff til the afternoon.” Daryl gave her a soft smile that she didn’t see. But it was obvious to why. Y/N fell back asleep in his embrace, snuggling closer when she felt his lips press a soft kiss to her hairline. He did have stuff in the morning. But didn’t care.

When it came to actually help around the community, Daryl kept his attention on Y/N whenever he saw her while he helped Aaron fix the gate mechanism. Aaron would glance over every time Daryl did and that would spark a few things.

“How far along?”

“What?”

“Y/N. When are you going to experience the joys of a baby like I’ve been experiencing?

“Didn’t you say Gracie projectile vomit on your shirt this morning?”

“Yeah…but there are other things” Aaron laughs handing Daryl the new wheel. “You can see the exhaustion on Y/N’s face so she must be far”

“Six months, and it ain’t cuz she’s carrying” Daryl knelt to the floor with what he needed to replace the gate wheel. “She hasn’t been sleeping”

“No? Think she’d need a sedative? I bet you Siddiq can find something that will be fine for her and the baby” Aaron tried to find a solution as Daryl kept his focus on finishing the task at hand so he could keep an eye on her.

But she was simply reading another baby book that Carol found for Daryl originally while sat on the porch. Which also meant Y/N put herself in a position for anybody to approach her.

“Do you think he looks like Glenn?”

Y/N shot her head up from her book with a confused look being met with an equally confused one from Rick. “What?”

“I asked how are you feeling”

“Oh, I’m just…tired.” She breathed out a laugh, setting her book down for a moment.

“I bet. Lori used to fall asleep anywhere when she was pregnant with Carl, then well. With Judith she kept having to move around remember?” Rick invited himself to sit with Y/N which made her tense slightly but he didn’t read that. “I would appreciate the shit we have now. You’re safe to have your baby. Have a doctor. Can rest when you want. The whole package…”

“Are you…trying to make me feel bad?” Y/N questioned watching Rick instantly turn his head at her.

“No why would you say that?”

“Because I know what we have now compared to when times were extremely difficult…are you…” Y/N didn’t know where she was going with her words and decided to forget it. She grabbed her book along with the mug she brought out earlier and made her way inside. “I’m sorry” she whispered before shutting the door behind her.

Rick sat there for a moment, feeling more confused than anything. But there was a hint of regret for his words. He struck something and she wasn’t going to tell him. Especially not him. As he left the porch to take care of something, Daryl noticed from his spot and wanted to leave his task to check on his wife because at one point she was outside, then Rick appeared, now she’s nowhere in sight.

“Go”

“Huh?”

“Go check on her. I know you want to” Aaron has been around Daryl long enough to understand his body language.

“I owe yea, Aaron” Daryl tells him while setting his tools back in their box along with his gloves before leaving.

The sound of the door opening snapped Y/N out of her thoughts as she lifted her head from resting against the couch watching Daryl look for her and instantly lock onto her in the living room.

“Are you okay?” Daryl brought himself to sit with her watching her nod with a small smile. “Are you sure?”

Y/N didn’t know what to say as all she did was shake her head before bringing herself into his lap keeping mind of her bump. Daryl instantly wrapped his arms around her after helping her get comfortable.

“Can you stay home the rest of the day?” She whispers feeling his hand sprawl itself on her bump as she rest her hand on top of his.

“Of course, sunshine” He felt her relax when he said such.

The rest of their day consisted of staying on the couch, making dinner together, running a bath for Y/N, working on Daryl’s bike while she relaxed in the bath, and then helping her with her night routine before going to bed together like every night.

“What do you have to do tomorrow?” Y/N asked as she adjusted her pillows for her to sit up while Daryl rubbed her feet using a lotion gifted from Carol.

“Mmm. Just a watch shift I think, and to check the snares. I shouldn’t be out long”

“…can I join you?”

His immediate answer would be no and the look in his eyes gave that away. But Daryl seemed to go against what his mind was telling him.

“As long as yea take it easy” Daryl says calmly while working on a knot in her sole. “You can even bring your hunting rifle and we’ll check out the closest hunting grounds”

“Babe…are you messing with me?” Y/N pulled her foot away watching Daryl bring himself to lay beside her propped up.

“When was the last time I messed with yea?”

“I dunno…”

“Then I ain’t messing with yea. As long as yea take it easy, and follow my lead. We can do this. Okay?” He gave her a smile as she nods before shifting to lay down watching him do the same after he turned off the lamp.

Listen carefully…I will always have a chokehold on your life. That when you least expect it

Daryl and your baby are as good as dead

Y/N jolted awake instantly reaching for her belly making sure everything was alright as for her movement she woke her partner.

“What’s wrong?”

“N-Nothing. It’s…” Y/N felt the baby kick and only started to sob afterward. Daryl fully brought himself to wrap around her bringing her close to him.

“It’s okay. It’s okay” Daryl held her close in hopes the sobbing would stop. But she cried for an hour and he did his best to calm her even if after the sobbing resulted in both staying up the remainder of the night.

When the next day came around, Michonne took it upon herself to check on the Dixons given Daryl didn’t relieve her of her watch and an Alexandrian had to take it. She knocked a few times and waited an appropriate amount of time before letting herself in finding Daryl blankly staring at a French press he found to make coffee for him and tea for his partner. But when Michonne drew close, he snapped out of his daze and realized he didn’t even get it ready with either caffeinated beverage.

“Long night?”

Daryl quickly turned to her realizing he forgot and cursed under his breath. “Sorry. I was supposed to take watch after yea”

“It’s okay, someone took care of it” Michonne gestured for him to sit as she took care of getting the coffee and tea ready for them. “Where’s Y/N?”

“Nesting. She didn’t want me to help until I’ve made tea for her but I honestly think she said that so I wouldn’t talk about last night”

“What happened last night?”

“A night terror? Nightmare. Whichever. She had a bad reaction and couldn’t sleep. So I didn’t sleep” Daryl frowns watching a cup of coffee come into view giving his thanks.

“Yknow. Rick won’t admit it. Nor would he tell you what he thinks he did.” Michonne poured herself a cup given her early morning shift. “He gets nightmares about Carl and his…failure in saving him. He gets a few about the line up and he cries in his sleep.”

Daryl took in a sharp inhale before sipping his coffee. He knew what could be plaguing his wife’s mind during these moments, but never thought she would be too afraid to tell him about them.

“What did Rick do?”

“He thinks he made Y/N feel guilty for the luxuries we have that clearly…those we’ve lost will never have.”

“Well. He’d have to pay for that” Daryl jokes, for the most part. “But her nightmares started since before she was pregnant. They weren’t as bad…guess her emotions are all over the place because of the pregnancy”

“It does that” Michonne laughs lightly as the lightheartedness only lasted a few seconds when they both heard a crash upstairs. Resulting in both of them quickly running to the commotion.

Y/N tried to move the crib and given its weight, she misstepped accidentally cutting herself on a sharp corner which Daryl took note to sand down later.

Now in the infirmary, Siddiq had checked the baby before taking the time to stitch up her arm so it would less likely scar. Not that she minded scars but after being told neither of them have slept and have been having a hard time, he wanted to bring some relief in it all.

“Do I need to be forced on bed rest?”

“No? You only cut yourself and your blood pressure went down after the crisis was averted. I’d take it easy but you don’t have to be confined to a bed” Siddiq finished with the wrap and handed Daryl extra bandages for the future redressing.

“She’s uh. She’s been having—-“

“Nightmares…” Y/N frowns. “Do you think you have sleep medication?”

“I do…but I don’t think you’ll need it” Siddiq taped the bandage to be secure, giving the rest of the roll to Daryl. “I think you’ll do better with a change in scenery”

“And what do you suggest?”

It took about two weeks to plan this out and Carol was more than happy to welcome her two closest friends, her family, into the Kingdom to stay for a while. Even if it meant living in a studio like apartment, not that Y/N cared. She was just happy to be with Carol and Ezekiel…while outside the radius of Negan’s presence.

“I’m surprised Daryl let you drive here”

“It’s just so he could have his bike” Y/N laughs softly.

“His first love if you will” Carol jokes receiving a hearty laugh from Y/N as she took her hands into hers admiring her and the bump for a moment. “He really is getting the life he’s always deserved”

“He sure is”

“Cmon, let me help you get settled. Let him scout around the place” Carol smiles wrapping her arm around Y/N leading her to the living quarters.

After a while Daryl found himself sat on the edge of the bed in sweats waiting for his wife to finish getting ready. He brought his attention from the floor toward the sound of the bathroom door opening and Y/N making her way toward him.

“You don’t like it here”

“What do you mean?”

“New place. For however long…you know we’ll go back right?”

“What if you don’t want to?”

“Alexandria is my home, Daryl. Where we found security, where we got married…and I want to raise our baby there. I just…needed a break, from being constantly reminded that Negan is still alive and what he took from us”

“Rick was a moron for keeping him alive” Daryl frowns as Y/N sat beside him taking his hand resting it on her bump letting their little one kick against the touch making his frown fade. “All I want to do is take care of you. The both of you”

“And you are. We will go home”

“Once you’re comfortable. Okay? I’ll help around the Kingdom and Carol will definitely hover around yea if I’m not”

“That’s okay” She laughs resting her head on his shoulder. “You better take it easy too. Negan took a lot from the both of us”

“I will”

The night progressed as Daryl found himself wrapped around Y/N, hand on her bump as her hand rested on top of his. Her finally asleep without stirring to anything but his small movements and even then, she went back to sleep immediately.

Honestly they’ve stayed in bed for a few days…enjoying the quiet and peacefulness

[specialagentlokitty]

Negan x reader - trade skill

Hello. I was wondering if you could please do Negan X reader, where Negan is unable to find Lucille and thinks that someone has taken her. So he has people to search every area in Alexandria (I think it is), only to later find out that Y/N took Lucille in order to clean and repair her, and accidentally forgot to notify him. - Anon💜

You didn’t know why a lot of the saviours were taken to Alexandria, you had a thought maybe it had something to do with Rick not doing what he was supposed to be doing.

You weren’t all too sure but you didn’t really have the time to find out either, you were busy with your own project which is why you refused Dwight when he came to get you to go with him.

Was it the smartest choice?

Definitely not, and you knew you were going to get it in the neck from him and most likely Negan after, but you were always in some kind of trouble.

Sitting on your bed, you picked up the pair of wire cutters, carefully getting ready to cut the barbed wire.

You had already caught your arm once, you just tired a bandanna around it and carried on working.

You had to be careful, you didn’t was to break it, and you had to do everything exactly right otherwise you would be more screwed than you were going to be.

Setting the old barbed wire aside on the floor, you picked up the new one and looked at it.

It was a little rusted with the weather, but it was in a lot better condition than the other one.

Wrapping it around like the other was, you nodded to yourself a little.

Setting the bat aside, you got up, grabbing everything you had been using to fix it you shoved it into a box and left the room.

Making your way down to where the workers were, you walked over and set the box down.

“I’ve not used it all so I’m sure someone can get some use out of it.” You said.

The man looked up, nodding her head as she set the box on the floor.

Humming to yourself, you began to browse through the other things that were laid out on the table, looking for something of interest.

Finding nothing, you decided to head outside instead, looking for some part of a fallen tree or a decent sized branch for a new project.

“Hey (Y/N)?”

You looked to one of the other saviours.

“We got problem with the walkers out front, a few got free somehow.”

You sighed, stopped what you were doing and you pulled out your knife, following him to the front where some of the walkers were banging on the fence.

“You said a fucking few, this is a mini horde dumbass.”

He just shrugged and you glared at him.

“Go get the fucking pole idiot.”

He grabbed the pole and you tried to make quick work of clearing the walkers that were building up.

You heard the cars and trucks pulling up and you ignored it, stabbing the final walker in the head, you turned to the man who went to leave.

“Not so fast, you’re waiting here I’ll deal with your ass in a minute.”

Opening the gate, you walked through the bodies, maybe your way to the far end of the fence, slowly looking along it.

For the walkers to get in the gap would have had to be pretty big, so it wasn’t hard to finally find it.

Kneeling down, you carefully inspected the fence and grabbed some zip ties from your jacket to seal it temporarily for now.

Making your way back over you looked at Simon.

“Sort your dumbass out Simon, this fucker hasn’t been checking the fence, there’s a massive hole.”

“You fix things, you sort it.” He said.

“Not my job asshole.”

He stuck his middle finger up at you and you did the same thing, walking over to the doors to head back inside but you stopped by Dwight.

“What was the trip about anyway?”

He glanced at you.

“He’s pissed someone took that stupid bat of his, I’d stay clear.”

You slowly nodded your head and glanced at the leader.

You had three options, either sneak the bat back into his room, leave it somewhere for someone else or come clean.

You didn’t want someone else to take the heat for your actions, and you couldn’t exactly sneak it into his room so with a heavy sigh, you walked over to where he was stood.

“Negan?”

“What?” He snapped.

He turned around and glared at you and you subconsciously took a step back.

“I know where Lucille is…” you mumbled.

“Where?!”

“I uh… could you follow me?”

Negan didn’t say anything as he trailed behind you, and you took his to your room, opening the door and you gestured to the table.

He walked inside, picking up the bat, carefully inspecting it.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing with her?”

He slowly turned around and you stepped inside the room, closing the door so nobody passing by could look in.

“I uh.. I forgot to tell you…”

“What the fuck were you doing with her?” He growled out.

You sighed, heading under your table you pulled out a box and set it down, showing him to contents.

“I noticed that Lucille was breaking, and you left her on the table so I decided to fix her and forgot to tell you.”

“Why?”

You shrugged a little.

“I like fixing things a guess, plus you wouldn’t be Negan without Lucille.”

Negan stared at you and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, but you could feel his eyes practically burning into you.

You couldn’t tell if he was still angry or not, and part of you didn’t want to know.

At least if he wanted to kill you for taking his beloved bat then you wouldn’t see it coming so it would make it easier.

“Look at me.”

You took the box, setting it back under the table and began to inspect a few of your things, just doing anything to avoid looking at him.

“I said look. At. Me.”

You turned around, connecting your eyes with his, he wore a blank expression and you watched as he slowly began to grin.

It was that grin that sent a chill down your spine, the same grin that you knew was the last thing some people saw.

“She looks just as good as the first day I made her, shit (Y/N), if I knew you were so handy I woulda moved you ranks ages ago.”

He put the bat on his shoulder, stuffing a hand in his pocket as he looked at you.

“What do you want? Name me one thing and it’s yours.”

“Anything?”

“Damn straight.”

You went quiet for a moment.

“You got anything else I can fix?”

Negan blinked a little in confusion.

“I just gave you permission to ask for anything, anything you fuckin’ want, anything at all, and you want to fix shit?”

You shrugged a little and he laughed.

“Fucking weird as ball man, but alright. I got a few things for you, you’re to return them directly to me.”

“Yes sir.”

Negan began looking around at a few things you had already repaired and made.

It was why he kept you around at first, you were just handy when it came to fixing something that had broke.

He turned around to look over at you.

“How’d you know how to fix her?”

You paused what you were doing.

“My dad owned a repair shop, mostly just household shit, but he could fix up other crap too, loved baseball.”

Negan slowly nodded his head.

“Next time you take Lucille without asked I’ll start breaking fingers.”

“Understood.”

He smirked at you, and he picked up a little figurine you had fixed of a baseball player you didn’t even know the name to.

“I’m taking this too.”

With that he left and you let out a sigh of relief.

Maybe you shouldn’t have drawn more attention to yourself, but in the world it was now, you needed to have people you could rely on, so you needed to prove yourself to Negan if you wanted a chance of being kept around and surviving.

Maybe you didn’t agree with how he did things, but you sometimes had to do these things in order to survive

[lucilleslore]

you get hurt - twd reactions.

about: how daryl, negan and rick would react in a situation where you get hurt.

includes: minor injuries, maybe some ooc writing it’s my first time!

DARYL

it doesn’t hit daryl at first when you trip and fall, his mouth already having upturned at your known clumsiness. ‘c’mon kid, get up,’ he’d say softly, the amusement evident in his tone. ‘don’t have all day.’ you’d try of course, and that’s when he sees the odd angle of your ankle, the way your weight is balanced on one leg. his stomach plummets at the grimace on your features, the groans you’re keeping in.

you could hear the walkers closing in, their noises an ugly soundtrack to your pain. ‘just go -’

‘don’t be stupid,’ he’d reply instantly, eyes glaring heavily in your direction. you see the cogs turning, his survival instincts kicking in as he tries to figure out how to get the two of you out of there alive. that’s before he’s scooping you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, grumbling apologetically all the while. his hand massages at the soft skin of your thigh as he moves and it’s so reassuring in that moment you want to cry. ‘fuckin’ mad if you think i’d leave you behind, sweetheart.’

once he gets you safely home and to a doctor he’s more fussy than you. asking all sorts of questions about what is being done to you but he’s also doting - pushing back your hair from your head, squeezing your hand when you need it. he definitely falls asleep next to your bed at the end of the night.

NEGAN

the doctor tending to your burn looks uncomfortable as negan circles him like he’s prey. lucille hits loudly off the floor at your every wince, moan and curse and his anger at the situation fills the whole room.

it really was a simple mistake - you’d just gotten in the way whilst some new saviour was preparing the iron, the tip of it just barely grazing your upper arm - but negan was fuming. you kept catching his eyes zeroing in on the mark, like he could somehow make it vanish by scaring it away. ‘it’s not a serious burn,’ the doctor starts nervously, obviously trying to break some tension.

‘do i look like i care how fucking serious it is?’ he’d return, that sinister smile of his taking up his features. he stands still behind you at last, one hand holding lucille in the man’s direction, the other one coming to rub at your scalp. you lean back into his chest, finding momentary peace in his presence - no matter how worked up he is. ‘she’s in pain, that’s all that matters and if you don’t find a way to fix it?’ negans tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth, lucille moving closer and closer to the poor man’s face. he scurries away to his cabinets, eagerly looking for something.

‘s really not that bad,’ you murmur softly, trying to ease him down. you try to joke but it doesn’t work, that anger still brewing behind his eyes. ‘i’m more worried about you. you gonna make fun of me now like you do dwight?’

his eyes soften momentarily before he drops a kiss on your forehead. ‘course not, doll. you tell me if anyone does. they’ll face the iron themselves.’

RICK

you’re resting when rick rushes into the infirmary. he was gone, off trying to clear the herd of walkers when alexandria came under attack, leaving you and others badly injured. the bullet didn’t hit anything vital but you’re tired after being worked on for hours, eyes blinking blearily up at him as he leans over you.

his own features are tired - exhausted more like - but clouded with worry and angst. ‘are you alright?’ his voice is hoarse

‘right as rain,’ you sigh, trying to put on the charm you usually have. you can see it fails when his brow furrows, ricks head dropping into his hands as he sits by your bedside. your fingers find their way into his hair as you murmur, ‘please don’t worry about me, rick. i’m being taken care of.’

‘but that’s the thing,’ he sighs, a hint of impatience in his voice. ‘i do worry about you! every minute of every damn day, i worry about you. you think i enjoy being out there? leavin’ you here by yourself? look what happens!’ his hands gesture to you now, a pained expression on his weary features.

your own face is a mixture of shock and sorrow. finding yourself at a loss for words you tap the empty space of bed beside you. a small smile is given to you in return before rick climbs in beside you, albeit clumsily. ‘just want to keep you safe ‘s all,’ he whispers into your neck once he gets settled.

[faorism]

(really in my feels about the ot3 because of the @powerpolyculeshowdown so here's some propaganda)

parker and hardison allow eliot to be sillier. more ridiculous. outragous, even. eliot sings the stupid ditties hardison writes special for him, and he rolls his eyes at parkers pokes and prods and the occasional "accidental" face slap, and eliot can express himself for what actually bothers him no matter how nitpicky, versus having to calculate what he should say. (he still argues with hardison that throwing in on a brewpub was a stupid plan given its risk, no matter how many times hardison claims it was always a gift for him.) eliot laughs more. real laughs; you can tell because his smiles look more and more like grimaces: the way his ma perked her mouth which his dad always teased her about (though it was his favorite thing about her), rather than the wide toothy grins eliot learned because he knows, tactically, they are best for charming. parker and hardison let him not feel like he's a monster. or... parker tells him she always thought the big bad wolf had a bad rap, and hardison says some stupid shit about monsterfucking being the hip thing the kids are into these days, anyway.

hardison and eliot allow parker to feel deep. it's food that tastes like a hug and it's gadgets made just for her and it's loving and being loved and it's being one another's real families. she doessn't want to run away, anymore. or... she wants to run but with her friends beside her. or... running cons is all she's ever wanted to do, and all she did, for so long. parker is good at it. she loves it. she loves that hardison and eliot love it too. but... feeling deep is also being deep. she's no longer just her piles of money because she is no longer afraid of herself. her past. the memories that hurt. the habits she thought she needed to grow out of but always missed. these habits, like bleeping sounds that arent words and hands move move moving. hands that were once made to stay now can fly because hardison buys her fidgets and designs some just for her and keeps locks in lucille for when parker feels like infinity and needs the vibrations of ticktickticks to bring her back to herself. and eliot lets her braid and unbraid his hair; he won't let her blow dry it, not yet, but... he lets her pet his hair while it's still hot, now. it frizzes his hair a little, and parker feels her pulse rush throughout the day knowing she did that to him. eliot and hardison kiss her knuckles when they burn.

parker and eliot allow hardison to be mean. vindictive. he is nicer than he needs to be. wants to be... what he needs to be is nonthreatening, for the most part, in many places. he knows what it means to be him: tall and black and queer and gaining muscle and too smart for his own damn good and so very, very tenderhearted. hardison loves so damn deep, and he cares so damn much, but part of caring (the other side of a coin) is not giving a fuck. it's the boiling point of rage and betrayal. the i need to walk away from this fight because you are dead wrong and imma about to say something imma regret, so go fix yourself. the im not gonna forget, im not going to forgive, and im going to get my revenge. parker and eliot would not have questioned hardison's joy at securing the capture of the men that put him in that damn coffin; they hold space for him to be fully himself with all his ugly parts and his petty parts and the parts that do bring hardison shame if he thinks about it for too long. they know he's not perfect, and that? that feels like safety and love and forever to hardison.

[marzipanandminutiae]

Someone in the CPeak tag wrote a really interesting post about issues with antis that I mostly agree with

They used the movie as an example of a “don’t venture here if you can’t take fix that deals with canon topics” situation, but the way they characterized it was a bit…I have Reservations

“An underage boy is raped by his sister for years”

It’s not like…inherently WRONG, technically? The consensuality of Sharpecest is sort of open to interpretation, though more people do consider it consensual, and he was indeed underage when it started- 11, per the bios. You also wouldn’t necessarily know how long it had been going on if you hadn’t read the bios, so this person not knowing that it only lasted for a year when either of them were underage (and then they were separated for six years) is understandable

But like. The exclusion of the fact that Lucille was also underage seems like it’s not really giving the full picture here?

(that’s math you can even do without the bios because their age difference is mentioned in the movie- unless it started when they were 16 and 18, or beyond that point for another two years, there’s no way it could’ve happened when only one of them was underage by modern law. Age of consent law was different in the 19th century, but we won’t get into that)

(They were, as I said, 11 and 13 per the bios)

Obviously peer CSA is a thing, so that doesn’t make it inherently consensual. And it’s still sibling incest regardless. But like. This really feels like that trend of “making Lucille much older than she actually is canonically in order to make their relationship even more problematic

Which always raises questions for me, namely: why are these people ignoring something that is clearly spelled out in the dialogue of the movie? Why do they perceive a 37-year-old actress as being much older than a 34-year-old actor? It’s a bigger age gap than the characters, but there is absolutely no way you can tell me that someone three years older looks significantly different than someone two years older, especially given the fact that these are both famous actors with access to Hollywood-level skincare and anti-aging procedures.

It’s just. I don’t know. One of those things that rubs me the wrong way

[i-smell-sass]

A Sweet Treat (Called Tangerine) PT1

A/N: Reader is intended to be trans, but can be read as amab too. i fucking love tangerine. also, i HC them using code names that start with each other’s initials, like tangerine’s name being Lucille and lemon’s name being Theo

Pairing/Relationships: Tangerine x Male Reader (R), Lemon x Male reader (P), Ladybug x Male reader (P) R: romantic, P: platonic

Summary: Male reader is assigned the Snatch and Grab job with Ladybug on the bullet train to Kyoto, on which he meets a handsome and charismatic assassin duo with fruity code names.

Requested: Yes/No

Warning(s): Basically all of what happens in the movie. Very self indulgent.

Genre: Fluff with a little angst

Pronouns used for Y/N: He/him

Codename: Weasel

Weasel sighed as he walked, checking his phone in frustration. He’d lost track of where Ladybug is, and was walking aimlessly down the Train car walkway in hopes of seeing Ladybug. Due to him looking down at his phone, he hadn’t noticed Tangerine standing up from his seat, causing him to bump into the man. ”Fuckin’ Hell, man. Can you watch where you’re goin’?” Tangerine asked, his british accent heavy with frustration.

“Oh, shit, sorry man. I wasn’t looking.” Weasel muttered, face at chest height. His eyes slowly traveled up, settling on Tangerine’s face. His breath hitched and caught in his throat as his eyes settled on Tangerine’s deep blue ones. “Really, it was an accident. I apologize.” He muttered, panicked. Was it getting hot in here or was he imagining things?

“’S fine, i guess. Just pay attention next time.” Tangerine muttered with a tense, in-genuine grin before squeezing by the smaller male, one hand on his shoulder. It was large, and warm, making Weasel shiver softly. “Fuck, he’s hot.” He muttered under his breath, closing his eyes as he got a whiff of Tangerine’s cologne. It was earthy, musky and calming. Straightening his jacket out before shaking his head, Weasel went back to finding Ladybug, focusing on the mission.

He’d later found Ladybug in the 1st class lounge, cleaning up glass shards. “What the fuck are you doing?” He asked, brows furrowed as he saw the blonde crouched on the floor, shoving the glass shards into the trash along with his trenchcoat. “Oh, Hi! i’m just.. um.” Ladybug muttered, his eyes nervously flicking over to The Wolf’s corpse sitting on a lounge chair.

“Oh my god. What did you do?” Weasel asked his brows furrowed. He glanced over at The Wolf, his eyes narrowing walking over to his corpse, tilting his head back to feel his pulse. “You killed him. Seriously?! Already?” He asked in a hushed whisper, his hands coming out in a frustrated shrug motion.

“Look, it was an accident.” Ladybug defended weakly, pulling his bucket hat onto his head. “Accident my ass. How do you ‘accidentally’ kill someone?” Weasel asked, raising a skeptical brow as he put both his hands on his hips like a disappointed mom would. “It just.. Kinda happened.” Ladybug muttered, shrugging.

Weasel rolled his eyes with a sigh, helping Ladybug cover up The Wolf’s body to make it look like he was sleeping before walking out with him. “You got the briefcase?” He asked, looking at Ladybug. “Yeah, Stashed it in the Trash can.” Ladybug replied, fixing his glasses.

Weasel stopped in his tracks, staring blankly at Ladybug. “Trash can? Really? That’s what you went with?” Ladybug shrugged with a small nod “Yeah. Why?” Weasel shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re a lost cause.” “You know, that really hurts my feelings” Ladybug complained. “Oh, shut it, softie.” Weasel muttered, giving a playful shove to Ladybug’s shoulder.

Later, Weasel sighed as he had lost track of where Ladybug was, making his way down the hallway. He saw Tangerine who had just jumped back into the train, the group of bad guys standing outside after talking to him. He seemed tense. “Who was that?” Weasel asked, looking up at Tangerine. “Huh? You again?” He asked, narrowing his eyes. “I know you. You work with that guy, Ladybug.” He recalled, glaring as he pushed Weasel against the wall, grabbing him by his collar. “You give us that fuckin’ case or you’re gonna regret it.”

Weasel’s eyes widened, looking up at Tangerine. His face was so, so close, the faint smell of cigarettes clinging to him, his breath smelling like mint. “I don’t have it.” He whispered breathlessly, his cheeks dusting with a soft blush. God, he was useless. Usually Weasel could keep his cool, but with Tangerine around? Total nutjob. Can’t focus for the life of him. Their faces were so close, and Weasel’s eyes couldn’t help but wander from Tangerine’s bright blues down to his plump lips. He wondered how he’d taste. “What are you fuckin’ starin’ at?” Tangerine muttered, brows now furrowed in confusion.

”You.” Weasel replied, sighing softly in disappointment at himself. “You’re.. pretty.” He mumbled, hoping to save the situation that way. “..Pretty?” Tangerine replied, His mouth pulled into a frown as his brows furrowed tighter together. “Right what kinda fuckin’ joke is this?” He asked, a little frustrated, and Weasel squinted his eyes at the loud exclamation. “Not a joke.” He defended weakly. Then it clicked. Tangerine’s eyes widened slightly, brows lifting in surprise. “You’re into me?” He muttered, more to himself than to Weasel.

Weasel sighed, the blush deepening lightly. “I‘m not trying to get in your way. I don’t care about the briefcase. I’m just here to support Ladybug, and this job is getting too messy for a snatch and grab job. You can have it. It’s stashed in the trash can in the first class lounge.” He looked up into Tangerine’s confused eyes. “Serious?” Tangerine muttered and Weasel nodded.

”Okay. I won’t shoot you. Only if you tell your little friend to leave us the fuck alone.” Weasel nodded eagerly, breathing a bit labored. “I’ll do that. Just have to find him first.” He promised, losing himself in Tangerine’s eyes again. ”What?” He asked simply, and Weasel smiled. “Your eyes are pretty.” He replied, Tangerine’s eyes fluttering lightly as he looked to Weasel and then away. “Look, i can’t say you ain’t a handsome bloke yourself, but i kinda ‘ave a job to do right about now. Can’t afford distractions” He whispered. Weasel nodded, albeit a bit disappointed. “I understand.”

Tangerine pressed a light kiss to the back of Weasel’s hand before handing him a Buisness card, then pulling away. “Take my numba’ in case anythin’ happens. But don’t make my job harder for now. ‘kay, gorgeous?” Tangerine asked with a small, confident grin. That smile made him weak in the knees, The whisper of Tangerine's breath on his ear making him shiver. Weasel nodded with a blush, smiling up at Tangerine as well before the man strutted off to his brother. God, that walk could make anyone weak in the knees.

Weasel sighed as he walked through the train, shaking his jacket out to get rid of the glass shards in it. “You’re an idiot, Ladybug.” He huffed, fixing his hair as he looked back at Ladybug who was fixing himself up as well. Both were slightly bruised and bloody.

”I know, i know. But hey, at least we got the case!” Ladybug exclaimed with a way too bright smile, holding up the silver case. “Great!” Weasel muttered sarcastically, rolling his eyes “Simple snatch and grab my ass. I’m never covering for carver again.” He grumbled as he pulled his gun out, switching the empty magazine for a full one. “Yeah, me neither.” Ladybug muttered, walking behind Weasel.

Weasel walked through the now empty train cars with Ladybug in tow, a determined stride in his step as he looked around at all the empty seats, brows furrowed. “What the fuck? Why are all the seats empty?” Weasel asked, voice a whisper. He had grabbed Lemon’s gun from where ladybug had hidden it behind the suitcases and put it back together, now one gun in his hand and the other stuffed into the back of his pants. Ladybug still refused to use a gun, which Weasel found plain stupid, but it was his death wish. Still, he kept the gun with him just in case.

Ladybug pushed in front of Weasel, walking into the Momonga train car. The Prince yelled for help as Tangerine had his gun pointed at her, and of course, Ladybug, as heroic and obnoxious as he is, jumped in to try to wrestle the gun out of Tangerine’s grip.

Weasel immediately jumped into action, pulling Ladybug away from Tangerine, or at least trying to. “LET GO YOU IDIOT!” Weasel yelled, kicking Ladybug’s shin to startle him. In that moment the gun fired, and Tangerine stumbled back. “FUCK! YOU FUCKING BELLEND!” Tangerine yelled, and Weasel gasped.

Weasel looked to Ladybug, noticing he hadn’t been shot. He quickly pushed Ladybug out of his way, coming to kneel down next to Tangerine who was sat on the floor. “WHY DIDN’T YOU SHOOT HER?! SHE’S THE FUCKIN’ DIESEL!” Tangerine yelled angrily, a hand clutched over where his shoulder met his neck, presumably where he’d been shot. The prince shook her head, crying and muttering some things about Tangerine lying and holding her hostage. “Shut the fuck up!” Weasel yelled, grabbing the gun Tangerine was shot with, cocking the hammer and shooting her in the calf. She yelped in pain, getting up and running further down the train.

Ladybug exclaimed in surprise, running after her after saying something along the lines of ‘you cant just do that’. Weasel sighed, pressing a hand over Tangerine’s, cupping his cheek. “You’re okay. Just your shoulder, nothing vital.” He whispered soothingly, and Tangerine grunted, eyes squeezed shut in pain. “Thanks fa’ savin’ me, Love. ‘Dunno what would’a happened if ya hadn’t Jumped in.” Tangerine mumbled with a small grin. Weasel nodded, leaning over to grab the first aid kit. “Of course. Even if we’re doing the same job, i couldn’t bring myself to let a beautiful man die.” Tangerine rolled his eyes at that, raising a brow. “That’s the best ya got?” He asked playfully, and weasel shrugged bashfully. “Hey, i’m trying here.”

Weasel ripped open the first aid kit, gently pulling Tangerine’s hand off the wound. He protested at first, but relented shortly after. “Just let me see.” Tangerine set his hand down, deciding on just switching out the empty bullets of his revolver for new ones. Weasel unbuttoned Tangerine’s shirt carefully, blushing lightly at the exposed bit of chest he could see. He went on to clean the wound best he could, bandaging it so he wouldn’t bleed out. “The bullet went through, You’re gonna be fine.” He reassured, pulling the end of the bullet out of Tangerine’s shoulder, with a little complaint from him.

“Where’s your necklace?” Weasel asked, noticing it was gone. “My brother.. he.. “ Tangerine trailed off, eyes seeming to go dim at that. “He died. Got shot. So i gave ‘im my necklace. Sentimental shit, Y’know?” He muttered with a sad chuckle, wiping his eyes. “I’m sorry to hear that. It’s always hard to lose a family member.” He whispered, sighing. When he was done patching Tangerine up, he helped him up, smiling. “Fuck the briefcase. I think we should work together so we can make it out of here.” Tangerine gave a tight nod at that, squeezing Weasel’s hand. “Yeah, fuck that damn briefcase,” He mumbled with disdain in his voice.

They sat in the Momonga part of the train, talking about everything and nothing before Shigeru and Ladybug walked through that part, stopping at a toilet in the way between the train carts. Tangerine and Weasel looked confused at each other, not getting up yet. “What’s going on?” Weasel asked, brows furrowed. Tangerine shrugged best he could. “Don’t know. Don’t care.”

They heard footsteps, and behind them, the door slid open, revealing Lemon, albeit with a very bloody shirt. “Tangerine!” Lemon exclaimed, Tangerine’s eyes shooting open, looking up at his brother “Lemon?! You’re alive?!” He asked loudly, getting up and looking his brother up and down. “You did wear the vest!” Tangerine smiled, eyes watering. “And you got shot in the neck!” Lemon pointed out. Tangerine shook his head as he pulled his brother in for a hug. “Come here you fuckin’ wanker.” he whispered, sighing into the hug. “You scared the shit outta me. I thought i’d lost ya.” He sighed, cupping his brothers cheek as he looked up at him. “Nah, You ain’t gettin’ rid of me that easily.” Lemon replied with a bright grin of his own. Weasel stood up, smiling. “I think this might be yours.” He held out Lemon’s gun he’d found, smiling. “My gun! Where’d Joburg hide that?” Lemon asked happily, taking it and kissing the barrel. “Oh, it’s my favorite. Missed ya, beautiful.” He muttered to the gun before looking at Weasel again. “Thank you.” “It’s no problem.” Weasel smiled, rolling his shoulders. “Now, we have to get ready to fuck ‘em up.” Lemon and Tangerine gave sharp nods at that, and all 6 of them prepared to kill the White Death and his goons.

Weasel slowly came to, sighing as his head pounded. He Squinted at the bright lights, His hearing returning to flowing water and the crackling of electric wires. He stumbled outside, head pounding as he leaned against the door frame of the train car. Everything was a mess; train cars crashed into the side of traditional japanese houses, messing up the street and the broken train cars laying messily around. His eyes squinted at the bright lights of the morning sun, clutching his side where he was sure he had a bruised rib, if not worse.

”Where are the twins?” He asked Ladybug after the mess with the White Death happened. Ladybug shrugged. “Dunno. Haven’t seen them since they jumped out the train together.” Weasel’s eyes shot open. “They WHAT?” he exclaimed, panicking.

He groaned, holding his head as it pounded. He struggled to hear anything over the pain. Just was he looked up, a tangerine truck hit The Prince, killing her. His eyes shot open, looking around. As the truck stopped, Lemon jumped out, Laughing loudly. “THAT’S WHAT YOU GET! FUCKIN’ DIESEL, MAN!” He exclaimed, laughing at her corpse. Tangerine stumbled out as well, and they both looked soaked to the bone. Weasel stared at them, smiling, his shoulders sagging in relief as he saw them alive. He stumbled his way through the debris - albeit very clumsily and sluggishly. He moved to stand in front of Tangerine, grinning. “Need a distraction now?” He asked playfully, and Tangerine rolled his eyes fondly. “I’d love a distraction right about now, Darlin.” He mumbled, slinging his uninjured arm over Weasel’s shoulder, the three of them walking down the street in the morning light.

[muddyorbsblr]

the final Lady Sharpe part 1: across the threshold

Series Masterlist See my full list of works here!

Part of the 500 Follower Celebration Requested by: @ellooo0ooo

Summary: To say your first day in Allerdale Hall with your new husband Sir Thomas Sharpe was "eventful" would be a gross understatement. Downright absurd would be a better descriptor.

Pairing: Thomas Sharpe x Reader

Warnings: ghosts; Lucille; murder attempt via poisoning; mentions of the "relationship" between Lucille & Thomas; steamy moment between the newlyweds

Things to be aware of: Reader & Thomas are newlyweds

"Save yourself."

You stiffened in Thomas' arms as the soft spoken tone reached your ears, eyeing your new husband with rapidly increasing worry. "Did you hear that?" 

His eyes held a touch of concern, the smile he gave you -- while breathtaking as it always was -- not quite reaching his eyes as he gave you words of reassurance. "Must simply be the wind, darling. At times it blows so harshly through the piping of the house that it feels as if the halls themselves are whispering to you. It's ghastly, I know, but it's home." 

The words sounded perfectly crafted, as if practiced and corrected many times before, doing nothing to ease the tension that had spread throughout your body as he carried you across the threshold. You made a show of giving him a reassured smile, consciously widening your eyes in an attempt to convince him that you doubted no portion of his answer. "Just the wind," you said softly when he set you back down on your feet. 

"Just the wind," he echoed, placing his hat down on a nearby table before framing your face in large gloved hands and touching the tip of his cold nose to your own, the chill making you break out into a fit of giggles. "There's that sound I absolutely adore from you, my dear wife." Your giggles melded into a weakened sigh once he leaned in closer and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. 

"Ah. There you are," a stern voice spoke from the other side of the floor, the sound bouncing off the walls as footsteps struck against tile then hardwood, the figure of Lucille Sharpe, your new sister-in-law, striding towards you. "You're finally home." 

"Lucille," your husband breathed out, walking towards her and meeting his sister halfway and pulling her into a tight embrace. 

Something in the sight immediately put you off, as if you sensed an intimacy between them that crossed the lines of familial love. Namely the way that she wrapped long fingers around his upper arm and leaned against his shoulder with her eyes closed, as if she was pressing a kiss on the spot. 

"Welcome, Y/N," she finally spoke to you. "How have you been faring with the cold thus far?" 

"Quite different from what I'm accustomed to but I can get used to just about anything," you answered her with a warm smile, subtly tilting your head at how she'd shaped her fingers like claws and dug the tips into Thomas' arm before releasing him from her hold. 

"You're not imagining it. She abuses him. Makes him sleep with her," the same voice from earlier spoke. "Every night. He won't be laying with you later."

"Well you cannot possibly have adjusted so quickly. Why don't I fix us all some tea and, Thomas you can draw your bride a bath and start a fire? Give her a semblance of home to help her adjust a touch quicker?" The words seemed welcoming enough; her smile, however, made you wish to go back out into the biting winter cold instead. You might fare better against nature than against Lucille. 

"Truly, Lucille? Tea this early? We'd just gotten home, we've not had the chance to even begin to unpack our belongings." You began to eye your husband with the same suspicion now, narrowing your eyes at his question that seemed as if they were speaking of more than just 'tea'.

"It will help warm her up," she insisted. "All of us, really."

His sharp exhale filled the room, his arm reaching out towards you when you began to walk further into the house and wrapping around your shoulders. "Very well then." His tone towards her had grown more formal, dismissive even. "Shall I show you to our room, Lady Sharpe?" He gave you a warm smile, this time the kind that reached his eyes as you nodded your assent. 

A mixture of your giggles and his filled the house as he scooped you up into his arms once more and carried you up the stairs. 

You tried to suppress your blush as you were treated to the view of your husband busying himself in your bedroom, insisting you 'sit back and not worry a single hair on that pretty head' while he prepped the fireplace. Of course, who were you to refuse a comfortable room with a view, especially when said view came in the form of Thomas Sharpe, coats shrugged off and sleeves rolled up to his elbows starting a fire to keep you warm?

The orange light of the kindling fire began to wash over the room, already making you feel as if you could breathe easier as your husband gave you an adorably triumphant smile. "Oh my word," he breathed out, rising to his feet and slowly making his way to you. 

"What is it?" A warmth bloomed inside you, his fingertips lightly tracing your features with one hand while the other began to undo the bun in your hair. If only that warmth wasn't accompanied by the pit forming in your stomach as you remembered what that voice whispered in your ear downstairs. 

"You are breathtaking in this light, darling." He ran his fingers through your hair, touching your chin with his free hand and tilting your head upward as he leaned down to press his lips to yours. The feel of him groaning against your skin sent your heart into a frenzy and your stomach fluttering like a dozen butterflies had just taken residence inside.

Every touch of your lips seemed more frantic than the last, feeling yourself getting more and more lost in him. Almost to the point that you forgot where you were. In a gloomy creepy near-derelict mansion that was potentially filled with ghosts that were talking to you confirming your intuition about Lucille and your husband having a debauched relationship in a secret held within the decaying walls. And so far away from the city where if you were to meet an untimely demise it would take days, maybe even weeks, before anyone at home was informed of your passing.

All of that seemed to fade away while you stayed in his arms. 

"What if I drew us both a bath?" he murmured against your lips, giving you one more lingering kiss before pulling away, his expression darkened with such explicit lust that it had you struggling to breathe. 

"How scandalous," you teased, your breath  hitching in the back of your throat when you felt his fingers playing with the buttons securing the collar of your dress behind your neck. 

The corner of his mouth upturned in a smirk once he worked the buttons undone and his fingertips met the skin of your  neck, a whimper slipping from your lips as he slipped the piece of fabric off of you. "My darling, we are husband and wife." You bit your lips to muffle a moan when he leaned in to press a kiss to the newly exposed skin. "There is nothingscandalous about us sharing a bath, if you're willing." 

He continued to press kiss after kiss along the column of your neck, and you suddenly felt a heat spreading throughout your body that had nothing to do with the fire steadily crackling on a few feet away from you. "Well in that case, dear husband, I think that's a wonderful--"

The sharp sound of knuckles rapping on the door broke the heady spell you were under, both of you  suddenly standing upright, Thomas' arm now wrapped around you with his hand splayed on the side of your waist as he pulled you to his side. "Is everyone decent?" you heard Lucille's voice clear and piercing through the door.

"Decent enough," your husband called out, chuckling as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

"Thomas what on Earth could you possibly mean by--Oh…" The look on her face may as well have dropped to the ground when her eyes befell the sight before her. Your now exposed neck, hair flowing down your back, Thomas' own overcoat and waistcoat draped haphazardly over the tall armchair, shirt wrinkled from where your hands clutched at him from moments earlier, the first few buttons undone and exposing his defined chest. "Seems I interrupted a private moment." 

"Oh it's no trouble really--" you started just as Thomas said, "Yes, you did." 

You did what you could to stifle your smile, giving way to him continuing his sentiment instead. "I was just about to draw a bath for my wife. And myself." Once more you fought to keep your expression unchanged as her neck so visibly twitched at the lurid implications of his words. 

The voice from earlier was back. But she wasn't talking to you, rather she was talking to…another voice. You could barely make out names in the conversation. Edith. Enola. Talking about how Thomas was different with you, how he seemed to be protecting you almost. 

"I'm sure the bath can wait, dear husband," you said, plastering on a warm smile you strived to reach your eyes. 

"But I'm not quite sure that I can," he shot back with a chuckle, pulling you closer to him. 

"Come on, sweetheart, Lucille made us tea. It'd be a shame for it to go cold." You looked to him with wide eyes, seeing how his jaw clenched for a moment before he briefly narrowed his eyes at his sister. And she was looking to you with a conspiratorial smirk, as if she felt the satisfaction of finding in you some ally. But you knew that look for what it really was; you'd seen it enough times throughout your ventures in London.

It was the look of an assumed mastermind pleased to see that a pawn was carrying out a leg of a plan on their own volition. And thus playing into their own trap. Run, little mouse, run, her eyes seemed to say. Right into my snare. 

"You have your sensibilities about you, Y/N. I like you already." 

"I've been around London enough times to know how you get with your tea," you joked, your cheeks aching from the smile you were trying to keep up. It seemed worth the dull ache, though, with the single nod she gave you as she poured out the hot beverage in two of the cups on the tray. The third one, however, had already been filled. And that was the cup she held out to you.

"I wasn't sure how you preferred it, so I took a guess on somewhere between lukewarm and fresh off the kettle. I hope it is to your liking, my new sister." 

"You're very kind, Lucille. Thank you." You brought the cup up to your nose, taking in the aroma. "This…smells quite different from the teas I've had in London. What is it?" 

"Firethorn berries," your husband answered. "Lucille picks them out in the garden and crushes them herself." 

So cyanide, you thought to yourself, wondering if Thomas' omission of whether the crushed berries had been washed was intentional or simply an oversight on his part. They're trying to kill me. 

You could feel your heart sinking from the realization that you'd married in such a rush and now you were to face the consequences. Your rational mind screaming obscenities at you for being so foolish to fall for the words of an angelic face and a devilish voice, and another voice trying to scream louder that you had to think of something quick lest one of them shove the drink down your throat and start the poisonous process.

"Don't drink it! The poison is in the tea!" one of the voices screamed.

"She has to. Lucille will kill her if she doesn't," the first voice, the guiding voice, answered her. 

You took a breath, mustering all your confidence as you hoped that the wayward idea that flew through your mind in the last few moments would work convincingly enough. Raising the cup to your lips, the moderately hot liquid slipped past your lips, and you let it stay there a second before breaking out into a fit of coughs and spitting out majority of the drink, blindly looking for a place to set down the cup and doubling over and arching your back with each cough. 

"Y/N!" The cup was taken out of your hand, Thomas pulling you close to him, moving your hair out of your face and running his hand up and down your back, trying to calm the fit. "Darling what happened?"

"I'm not quite sure," you answered through heaving breaths, both of you having sunk to the floor on your knees in the midst of your show. You fought against your instinct to stiffen in his hold as he pulled you to him, cradling you against his chest. "I suppose it was foolish of me to think firethorn berries was an exception to my allergies."

"Allergies?!" Lucille snapped. "Thomas, you never mentioned anything about your new wife's allergies when you wrote to me about her."

"It's my fault," you answered her. "Honestly it was such a whirlwind romance and the wedding happened so fast there was so much we didn't get to know about each other." You gave a regretful look to your husband. "I'm sorry."

He gave you this sorrowful look, complete with teary eyes, furrowed upturned brows, and quivering lip, before pulling you closer again and resting your head on his shoulder. "This isn't your fault, darling. None of this is your fault. I'm just glad you're alright." You kept at it with your heaving breaths, gradually easing yourself back to a regular rhythm. "How about I fix us something to eat after we freshen up?" 

You gave him a weak nod, inwardly hissing that you'd rather starve than let them have another attempt at your life like that. Letting out a few more weak coughs and making sure to cover your mouth lest Lucille or Thomas know what an allergic reaction ideally looked like and realize that you'd been putting on a show, you turned your gaze to Lucille. "I'm so sorry you went through all this trouble--"

"It's no trouble at all, dear sister," she cut you off, the icy rage poorly veiled in her eyes despite the smile she was clearly straining to give you. "As Thomas said, what matters is that you're alright." Her eyes flickered to her brother one last time before she turned and left your bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

"Let me go get you some water, darling." Thomas held your hands as you both stood, holding you close to him again when you were both up on your feet. "I could have sworn I felt my heart drop to the ground when you seemed about to hack out your lung from those heaves." 

He'd led you to the ensuite and turned on the tap. Once the water began to run you straightened your stance and stepped out of his hold, your coughs suddenly -- suspiciously -- a thing of the past. "It's so sweet of you to be so concerned, Thomas." The furrow between his brows deepened, the water overflowing from the glass and onto his hand. "Now tell me. Whose idea was it to poison me, dear husband?" You sneered the words now, as if they themselves were poison to even utter. "Was it yours? Or your sister's?" 

A/N: Welcome to…the series that I didn't actually intend to be a series 😅 When I was planning out this request I only intended for it to be 3 parts, and then I started writing it 2 days ago I realized that I'd be cramming way too much into one part if I wrote it the way I first planned, so it became 4 parts…and then 5…and now it's 8.

But I honestly look forward to diving into this story and sharing it with you all, and I just hope y'all like it, too 💖💛

‘everything’ taglist: @sailorholly @loopsisloops @unlucky-number-13 @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @sarahscribbles @kats72 @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lovelysizzlingbluebird @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @dangertoozmanykids101 @elizabethmidnight2017 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina

[thelittleangel]

Bar Scene

tags: negan x male reader, no apocalypse au, soft romance, a little bit of a slow burn.

warnings: one of the characters are drunk in this one, a tiny bit of angst.

thanks: special thanks to @waywardseraph for helping me with this one!

Alternate ending

It was a standing thing we did.  If a date one of us went on was unsuccessful, we would drive to a bar and get dinner together.  We’ve been friends since we were in high school, him being a grade above me.  This friendship has carried on into our adult lives.

He was there when I came out and I was there when Lucille passed.  

We made it to the bar, parking the car.  Walking inside, I hung up my coat.  “Alright,” he says to me “you know the rules.  The one rejected gets to drink and the one who wasn’t is the designated driver.”

I nod.  “Yes.  I do know.  Because you mention this every time we come here.”

He gives me a look™ and we walk to the bar.  Several drinks later, he’s giggling over the bar top, and I'm trying (and failing) to contain my laughter.  

“Okay, man.  You’ve had enough.”

“One more for the road?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Please?”

“No.  I'm not watching you pass out on the floor again.”

“Please?” 

Getting an idea, I relent.  “Yeah, one more.  But I'm picking.”

“Fffffffffffffine.” 

I walk up to the bar, leaning over so he can’t hear me whisper.  “One water.  Can you please put it in a glass, so he doesn't know?”

He smiles and fixes the drink.  “Light drinker?”

“No, he just drinks in excess.”

“Ah.  How long have you been married?”

I choke on my own spit.

“We’re not- I’m not his-”

He comes up behind me and slings his arm around my shoulders.  “Oh, it feels like forever.”  He has that smile on his face.  That one smile.

I hand him his drink.  He shoots the water back like its whiskey, letting out a satisfied sigh.

“What was that?”  

“Gin and tonic.”  I smile, letting the smooth lie fall from my lips.

He sets the glass down and I pay our tab.  I grab our coats and walk him to the car.  He’s giggling and stumbling toward the car grabbing onto my coat.  I gently open the door for him and help him sit down.  

I go to the driver's side and put the car in reverse.  Swiveling my head around, I make sure I'm not about to hit any cars behind me.  Turning my head, I made eye contact with him.  He’s still got that smile on his face.

“What are you looking at me like that for?”

He doesn’t turn his head away.  “Nothing.” 

I turn back to the road.  I pull out of the parking lot and drive back to his house.  On the drive home, he didn't take his eyes off of me.

I pulled into his driveway, putting the car into park.  He’s still looking over at me.  He gently takes my hand off the gearshift and raises it to his lips.  My heart starts beating rapidly, my breathing heavily.  “What are you doing here, Negan?”

He just smiles and presses a gentle kiss to my knuckles.  

My ears go pink, and my lips start to shake.

He hasn’t taken his eyes off of me.  He gently puts down my hand.  

“What did you do that for?”

He leans back into his seat, a dopey grin on his face.  “I get tired of going on these dates, you know?”  

I nod.  “I know what you mean.  Why did you kiss my hand like that?”

“I’m tired of going on these dates, man.  None of these girls are gonna be Lucille.  I keep searching for pieces of her in these girls and always end up finding nothing.”

I look away.  I missed her too.  She was my best friend and not a day goes by that I don't think of her.

“But the other day it occurred to me.  Maybe I need to stop looking for Lucille.”

I feel my eyes start stinging.  I felt like I was about to cry.

“She was one in a million.  She meant a lot to everybody around her.  Me.  You, especially.  And I miss her so much.”

“I don't think I'm ever gonna find another one like her.  But I think that’s gonna be ok.”

I look over at him.  There were tears in my eyes, but I wasn't crying yet.  “Why?” 

He looks at me, and the look in his eyes is so sweet and it makes my heart clench.  

“Because I found you.”

I shake my head.  “Negan, you’re drunk.  You don’t know what you're saying.”  

“I do.  I really do.”

“You wouldn’t be saying this if you were sober.”

“You're not understanding.”

“I think I understand enough.”  I open my door and walk over to his side of the car.  I open his door, offering a hand to let him out.  He looks up at me with an unreadable expression.  “You don’t understand shit.”  

“I understand that you're drunk.  And you're not thinking clearly.”

I pull him up and walk him inside.  I take off his jacket and hang it up.  I sit him down and take off his shoes and socks.

I walk him up the stairs to his bedroom.  I lay him down on his bed.

I go to the bathroom and get painkillers and a glass of water.

I brought them back to his room, placing them on his nightstand.  I look over at him, and he seems to be fast asleep.  I turn to leave, but his hand reaches out to grab mine.  

His dark eyes meet mine, and I hear him whisper, “Stay.”

I look down at him.  “I really shouldn’t.”

“Stay.”

I look at him and he looks back at me.  I walk around to the other side of the bed and take off my shoes.  I lay down beside him.  He closed his eyes and wrapped an arm around me.

He pressed a gentle kiss to my temple and fell asleep.

I close my eyes and fall into a deep sleep.

[catwyk]

tsv finale spoilers below. i wrote this during my first listen through. its long as fuck. im dead im ruined.

cull calling out to rane instead of faulkner.... rane is truly the real leader now

FAULKNER......

"katabasian rane? sister thurrocks?" im gonna be sick

"hes basically a cow" spit your shit carp

"people in my life keep leavin to serve a cause i just cant understand" BASHES MY HEAD ON THE WALL

"we must love them for fleein from our touch e must not run after them" oh baby :(

this is actually fucking destroying me right now oh poor faulkner. failed by the world.

"of course i recognize you. youre carpenter's ghost" // "yes. i am" // "that must mean that im being punished. arent i?" he sounds so small and young oh my god

"if this is my punishment, then why am i smiling?" OKAY PARALLELS TO HIS VISIONS IN S2. OKAY. IM NOT GOING TO CRY. I WONT.

his monologue is ruining me actually oh god.

"they invented their own faulkner. and they forced me to be him" THATS WHAT IM SAYIN

he called her his sister...

im sure hes gonna die

"you crashed a car??" // "yeeah. i crashed a car." i love her

"they need to fix you, they need to make you better, and ill, ill watch over your bed, ill be there, carpenter. ill pray, ill pray and pray for as long as i need to" christ alive. i need to lay down RIGHT NOW.

méabh de brún too good at acting like shes in pain im abt to dial an ambulance

EM??? EM MENTION. EM MENTION

ok this is fuelling my hc that faulkner reminded carpenter of em in some painful and undefinable way

"i should tell paige that story, if i get to see heg again"

"OUR paige?" CRYING FOR A MILLION YEARS. AND HIS "HUH" AS WELL WHEN CARPENTER CONFIRMS

twin mouths truther forever

"i hate you too, faulkner, i truly do. and i love you, too. in spite of everything" // "always on the very precipice of understanding one another"

faulkner's "DEAD, DEAD, DEAD!" is fucking me up b narr the voice actor everrr

SHES GONNA LEAVE HIM A CAIRN 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

"there'll be a place for you, and itll be beside me" DRIVING STRAIGHT INTO A LAMPPOST AS WE SPEAK

NO HES GONNA TRY AND KILL HER ISNT HE

"yeah. perhaps thats it. do you?" again. coolest fucking character on the planet

"this is when the waters parted, and at last..! at last he understood!" jesus christ. jon ware the writer that you are

"say you were raised in the service of a god of fire. so you feel like the world would be a much better place if more things were on fire" i busted out laughing WHAT a tone shift

"dennis duplace helped. hayward.. dad.. carpenter.. im leaving all of you behind" i am a husk of a person. lucille valentine knocking it out of the park

"best feeling in the world, seeing you walk away" holy fucking shit this is DAMAGING ME.

i wanna write every quote thats making my heart sting but the transcript is already up so theres no real point

every single va is popping the FUCK OFF by the way. i have to keep reminding myself theyre acting so i dont like. kill myself

val saving hayward was NOT on my bingo card what the fuck

"and before she died... she remembered who she was" OHHHHHHH MYYYYY GODDDDDD

hayward doing his own rites of the cairn maiden for himself :(

no gods coming for hayward but "fuck it. this one's not... for any of you. this ones for me"

WHY IS FAULKNER BACK. NONONO ITS ONLY GONNA BE BAD. PLEASE NO

i never realized the parallel between faulkner's gardener father and his gardener god

carpenter meant so much to him :(

"Sister! I love you! Where are you going? Dont turn your back on me! Dont you dare- Sister! I need you! SISTER! SISTER! MARCO! MARCO!" FAULKNER NO NOT LIKE THIS NO NO NO NO NO NO NO

FUCK YOU JON WARE (<- COMPLIMENT)

THE FAULKNER BODY FAKEOUT. SEE ABOVE POINT

carpenter's scream...... oh god.. oh méabh de brún the woman that you are

"he could be a face from my childhood. or his" charlie.......

HES BEEN BLOND THIS ENTIRE TIME????????????? i should have fucking known

"but no matter how it starts, no matter how it turns out for us, it can end with love, cant it? it can end with love. it can end with kindness." i said oh my god out loud

the delivery of "and then i let him go" why not just drive a railroad spike through my lungs

"the river is vast, and no dam can block every channel, and ours is a world of miracles." i said jesus christ out loud

i wheezed when she just. got back up this old bitch cannot die can she

not nana glass' song............

FUCKING TAINSLEY. CHEKHOVS TAINSLEY.

oh my god. a final heartbreaking credits scene

i had to just sit and lean back for a second. what a fucking ending. what a fucking podcast. this is one of those pieces of media that takes up residence in your brain forever. im never gonna stop thinking about this

[ar4chn333]

“I Just Got You Back”

Michael Bluth x fem reader

Summary:

You and Michael shared your chaotic childhoods as best friends until your father moves your family away, devastating both of you. Twelve years later, you reunite. Convincing Michael to take the day off work, you revisit old memories…and make some spicy new ones. (2,473 words)

Contents:

Pörn with plot, p in v, praise, f!ngering, kinda tooth-rotty ngl, friends to lovers, x fem reader

Waiting anxiously a few feet from the door, you quickly fix your hair, pushing it behind your ear. Your mother steps ahead of you, giving the door three knocks before stepping back by your side.

“Let’s hope Lucielle has wine,” she chirps.

“Please,” you chuckle softly, careful not to be heard through the door. “If there’s one thing I remember about Lucielle, it’s the attitude–and the alcohol.”

“Amen,” your mom smiles in your direction, raising her eyebrows in anticipation, clearly excited to see her friend of over 40 years. Truthfully, you didn’t care much for Lucille. She was quite harsh and you remember her outright insulting you as a child but you didn’t mind if it meant you got to see Michael. The two of you spent long, hot summers in the Bluth banana stand, teasing each other, commiserating, and of course, half-assedly selling frozen bananas. You jump a little when the door to the model home swings open and out pops Lucielle who promptly hugs your mother then does the same to you.

“Got rid of that deadbeat husband, I see Jennifer?” Lucielle blurts.

“You should have seen the divorce party,” your mom retorts, giggling.

Lucille motions you two inside, making a bee-line into the kitchen to pour another drink. “You’re old enough to drink now, right?” she asks you. “Oh, yes, though I’ll have some later, thank you,” you reply. Lucielle rolls her eyes playfully as she takes a sip and hands your mom a glass. The two start chatting away and you prepare for a long night of third-wheeling two drunk middle-aged women. However, you hear footsteps coming from upstairs and a man’s voice, seemingly trailing up and down the upper floor plan. You wonder if it’s George, though the voice is much smoother than his, and you can’t make out many of the words. You turn back to the women’s conversation, deciding the mysterious noise is none of your business.

A few moments later you hear footsteps descending the stairwell. Whipping your head around, you see a man in a light blue button-up shirt, khaki pants, and a maroon tie with a phone up to his ear, which he promptly shuts upon landing on the first floor. He looks up. It takes a moment for your brain to register who he is, but when it finally does, you dart out of your chair.

“Michael! Oh my god!”

“y/n!”

He wraps you in a bear hug, nearly lifting you off of the floor. Senses overwhelmed by the scent of cologne and the warmth of his body, you sink into him ever so slightly. After a couple seconds you briefly pull away, your arms still on his, to look at him. He’s gorgeous and has grown into his stunning blue eyes perfectly.

“How long has it been? Ten-ish years?” He says, beaming.

“More like twelve,” you retort, having actually counted beforehand during the car ride over.

“Gosh, you’re beautiful,” he says softly before chuckling nervously, as if the comment were a knee-jerk reaction. He smiles sheepishly, hand traveling to the back of his head. “Thank you,” you reply blushing and looking away briefly, stomach alight with butterflies.

Michael pulls out his phone, holding it up. “I really wish I could stay and chat but I have to head back to the office–Gob is causing trouble again.”

“Oh lord, what this time?”

“Can I tell you tonight? I’ll be back around 7.”

“I see you’re grown into your work ethic too huh? That’s not the Michael I remember at the banana stand,” you chuckle.

“No kidding, I can’t seem to catch a break.”

“Are you sure you can’t take today off? We could go to the banana stand and walk around!”

“I’m sorry y/n, Gob’s a handful and I’ve got to take care of this.”

“Okay. I’ll see you tonight then,” you say fake-pouting. He awkwardly places his hand on your shoulder for a brief moment and begins to walk towards the door. “You’d think the place is imploding with the way he acts,” shouts Lucielle with every intention of Michael hearing it. He turns back around to glare at her before locking eyes with you. Perhaps childishly, you make a fake explosion sound with an accompanying dramatic gesture from your hands. He pauses for a moment, looking back at his phone, then once again at you.

“Screw it, let’s go.”

Smiling ear-to-ear, you hop into his car and head to the banana stand. Walking around, you exchange stories of your childhood together–the banana stand, the bike rides, and burns from attempting to operate the cornballer. Though you leave it unsaid, you once again feel the pain of being thirteen and leaving Michael behind when your Dad decided to set up his company headquarters far outside of California. The pit in your stomach begins to subside when you glance back at the banana stand as the two of you walk past. The night before you left, the two of you were stocking supplies when you began to cry about your life being uprooted and most of all, losing your best friend. He kissed you that night. Your first kiss ever–and his too. Leaving broke your heart.

The two of you grab dinner and you find him to be just as funny, charming, and awkward as you left him, only now, he was devastatingly handsome. You talk about your respective jobs, ambitions, and hopes over the food, collectively realizing how weird your childhoods were–but at least you had eachother for most of it.

The two of you pull into the driveway, and he opens the door for you as you exit the car with the sweetest smile on his face as he holds your hand to help you up. You see your mom’s car and figure she’s probably passed out along with Lucielle. “I think your ride is probably asleep,” says Michael. “You’re more than welcome to spend the night, we have a spare bedroom for you to use.”

“Thank you, I’m not drunk or anything, but it certainly wouldn’t be safe for me to drive, much less attempt to wake my mother,” you chirp.

He opens the door to the house slowly and lets you inside. The lights are off so you tip-toe around to the stairs. “Where’s the extra bedroom?” You ask.

“Up here and to the right–I’ll show you,” he replies.

“Oh, perfect,” you let out with a relieved sigh, flopping on the bed, certainly feeling the sedative effects of the alcohol. “Any chance I could get some clothes to sleep in?��

“Sure! I have a shirt you could wear.”

Michael walks out of the room–the light still off with you perched on the bed. You’d have to travel back to your place in the morning. Though it was only a couple of hours away, you felt like Michael was being taken away from you again and it hurt all the same. You wanted more of him–to be around him, to talk about nothing and everything…to touch him.

He walks back into the room with a baggy shirt in hand, backlit by the slight light of the hallway. Hopping up, you glide toward him, reaching your arms out. He hugs you deeply and you feel his heart through his chest and his breath on your shoulder, sending shivers down your spine.

“I feel like I just got you back,” he says, still embracing you. Slowly, he pulls away, his arms still wrapped around you. And for a brief moment, you just look at eachother. As if in sync, your faces move towards each other, his soft lips making contact with yours. He starts slowly, savoring every moment he tastes you, the texture of his stubble on your face making you melt. Pulling you in closer he deepens the kiss, smiling when an ever-so-slight sound escapes your lips. Your hand slides up his back, to his neck, and finally to his hair which you run your fingers through, gripping it slightly as he presses against you. The feeling of your hand on him causes him to breathe deeply against you, hungry for your touch.

“You’re burning up,” he says. You look at him concerned, cheeks and chest flushed a bright red. Eventually you realize what he means.

“It just means I’m enjoying this,” you chuckle, going in for another kiss. His hands trail farther down to your lower back and eventually to your hips. You let out a slight gasp as he pulls them towards his body. Almost out of instinct, you wrap your arms around his neck and jump, your thighs resting on his hips and your legs wrapped around him. Forearms on your legs, his hands cup your ass, giving it a squeeze as he carries you towards the wall. Back on the wall, you let out a moan as he leans into you. His lips trail from your jaw to your neck, sucking lightly against the tender skin. You grow wetter as you feel him getting hard from inside his pants, your nails dragging along the shirt on his back.

“I want you, y/n. And not just tonight–I want you with me. I can’t lose you again,” he whispers.

“You won’t lose me–you’re stuck with me now,” you giggle, pausing to lock eyes with him. You lean closer once again, lips almost touching his “So fuck me, Michael.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Spinning you around to the bed, he lays you down gently, once again trailing kisses down your neck. When he gets to your collarbone, his hands begin to reach up your shirt, fingers tracing along your ribs and to your tits. He lifts your shirt off, sitting up for a second to admire you laid out for him, legs around his hips. You get a little shy, covering your breasts with your arms but he pulls them away continuing his trail of kisses from your collar bone to your sternum and finally to your nipple. Your back arches at the sensation of his mouth, tongue circling and lips sucking. Moaning softly, your hands tug on the back of his shirt, eager to feel the skin of his torso against yours. You reach down to unbutton his shirt before stripping off his undershirt.

“You’re so beautiful, y/n,” he coos. You look down at him as his lips continue down your body, his mouth emitting the smallest sounds as he licks and sucks, driving you wild. Kissing just before the band of your underwear, you let out a moan, desperate for him. “Good girl,” he whispers. His words send shivers down your body, your underwear now drenched in anticipation. Slowly, he pulls off your pants, noticing your legs shaking for him already. He puts his hand over your most sensitive region, looking up at your expression–brows furrowed and mouth agape at his touch.

“Fuck, Michael, you feel so good,” you whine.

“I haven’t even started yet,” he whispers deviantly.

His fingers trace along your pantyline, pulling them down at a painfully slow pace, causing you to squirm underneath him. Running a finger through your folds, you whimper at the pleasure.

“Please, Michael.”

At the sound of your words, his middle and index fingers begin to circle your clit. Your hand reaches to clench the bedsheets while the other occupies itself with his soft brown hair. Your back arches suddenly and you buck your hips against him. Your moans become louder but are soon muffled by his mouth against yours. “That’s my good girl, so sensitive.” No sooner than he finishes his sentence, he slips his fingers inside of you, thumb now circling your clit. Curling them, he hits your g spot as you claw at his back, body pulsating with pleasure. “You’re doing so well, baby. It feels like you’re ready for me,” he coos.

“Please, Michael, I want your cock inside me,” you moan, locking eyes with him. His pupils widen as you palm him through his pants, biting your lip. He lets out a groan, sounding almost like the growl of an animal as he grows painfully hard. Sitting up, he undoes his belt in front of you as your hands trace the inside of your thighs, ready for him. Slipping off his pants, he raises one of your legs over his shoulder. Locking eyes with you, his hand runs the tip of his cock along your folds as your head tilts back in pleasure. Lining up with your entrance, he presses slightly into you, gasping at the feeling of your pussy. His hips slowly descend towards yours, cock pressing further and further into you. You let out a small whimper at his size, but quickly adjust to take him in.

“Oh Michael,” you let out, along with a stream of unintelligible whimpers.

He begins to slide his cock in and out of you, slowly, as not to hurt you. The delicious sounds that escape his mouth ring distinctly in your ears, causing you to clench around his member. You look down to see his hips colliding into yours, your legs shaking around him, buzzing with warmth and electricity at the feeling of him inside of you. He moves faster, pushing into you with increasing force and eliciting yelps upon contact.

“Shh baby, we don’t want to wake them up,” he says while continuing to pound you. Clearly unable to hold in your sounds, he slips two fingers into your mouth and your lips close obediently around them. You taste yourself on his fingers, moans escaping in the form of high-pitched hums in rhythm with his strokes.

A knot begins to form in your stomach as he fucks you, winding tighter every time he slides his cock into you. His thrusts grow more erratic, his mouth agape, on the verge of unwinding. He then takes your other leg, placing it over his shoulder, causing his cock to hit the perfect spot inside of you as you squirm and buck beneath him.

“You feel so good, baby,” he coos, pulling his fingers out of your mouth.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, Michael!” you yelp.

Warmth runs over your body and the string comprising the knot in your stomach is pulled on like a ripcord, unraveling furiously. Your body shakes and your whimpers break in time with his movement while an electrical current overtakes your body with pleasure. Michael follows soon behind, cumming as his moans echo in the room and his thrusts dissipate.

He rolls over beside you as your arms cling to him, your head resting on his shoulder. “I missed you so much–I missed my best friend,” you whisper.

“I missed you too, y/n,” he says, kissing your forehead. “Come biking along the beach with me tomorrow.”

“I would love that,” you whisper, smiling ear to ear.

Author’s note in comments💕💕💕

[bruiserelliot]

I spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about how in Meet the Robinsons, Carl the robot tells Wilbur that 'there's 99.999999% chance that you won't exist' if he fails in his endeavours. Now in the context of the movie this is taken to mean that Wilbur will have never been born, that kind of never existing. But obviously everything goes well, Lewis goes back to the science fair and fixes his memory scanner after declaring to DORIS that he's never going to invent her, thus erasing the possibility of her ever existing. But here's the thing, The grown up Lewis we meet before Wilbur takes our Lewis back to see his mom, is not the same Lewis we have at the end of the movie. And because of this, our Wilbur still might never exist. Stick with me here.

We might think it is due to the scene at the beginning, where baby Lewis is left on the doorstep of the orphanage, someone knocks on the door, and Mildred picks him up. The shots are repeated to imply that Lewis has always been the one to knock on the door from the beginning, and maybe he has been, that's not really the important part. Cause if that's all that Lewis 'changed' then that's just a time loop, Lewis grows up to be 12, the events of the movie happen, he comes back and knocks on the door, goes back to science fair, fixes the memory scanner, grows up to become Cornelius Robinson, marries Franny, has Wilbur, Wilbur leaves the door unlocked and Goob steals the time machine and sets everything back in motion again. A lot of the movie kinda sets up that this is a loop (keep moving forward and franny's advice 'i am always right')

But there's a few things keeping all of this from becoming a time loop. First one is that Lewis promised to never invent Doris, so firstly, this Lewis we have at the end of the movie remembers Doris, knows his future. Cornelius seems to know it in hindsight ('do we ever meet mom?' 'i think you might have to go back to the science fair and find out' i.e meeting Lucille) but not in the way Lewis will by the end of the movie. Point being, Lewis knows his future and is going to act accordingly, and no matter how it is he acts, that changes the time stream. Butterfly effect and such.

But more importantly: Lewis wakes Goob up. And in the movie this is a triumphant moment! Goob gets adopted, nobody will come to mess things up for Lewis since Goob has a family and he's sworn to never invent Doris.

So all of this happens, this is all true, but how can Wilbur not exist if Lewis knows the future and there's nothing there to disturb it? By having a different Wilbur. This Wilbur would I think be raised ever so slightly differently ('always lock the garage door' being hammered into him) and with an odd expectation on Lewis's side that this kid is gonna grow up to be the teenager he met when he was 12. And that, I think, makes for a different Wilbur than the one we met.

Meaning: a 99.999999% chance You won't exist might refer to a non time-travelling Wilbur existing instead of Our Wilbur.

I spend too much time thinking about this.

[whencloudwavesbreak-if]

DEMO UPDATE 12-05-2024

Behold! The next update!

You can take a look at it here. I've also updated the link in the main post.

I also plan on rolling out a smaller update within the next 2 weeks for bug fixes and to add saves to the game.

In the meantime, enjoy!

(Also, full list of changes and added content below the cut)

Overhauled relationship stats of all romanceable characters

Introduction

Updated description for Storyteller Mode

Chapter 1

Updated requirements for blocking Benjamin

Added rest of Chapter 3

In-depth description:

All Lucille scenes

Speaking with Lucille

Lucille's half of the Evelyn/Lucille conversation

Eavesdropping on Lucille's phone call

Staff room conversation

All JJ scenes

Updated JJ conversation - if speak/dance with JJ is 3rd activity and encounter variable is true

Dance with JJ - updated so you can dance with JJ if the met_jj variable is true

All Evie scenes

Evie conversation - dance and speak

Evie's half of the Evie/Lucille conversation

Toast scene

[specialagentlokitty]

Negan x reader - insanity comes and goes

Hands stuffed in your pocket, you grinned a little bit at the man who was stood in front of you, bat over his shoulder while his people fixed their guns in you.

“So, (Y/N), are you gonna tell me why you’re skulking around home? How’d you get so far?”

“Why would I do that? Takes all the fun out of the game Negan.”

He hummed a little, walking over and he looked at you, reaching up to brush some hair from your face.

“Why not join me? You could have anything you ever wanted here, that prick can barely offer you any food. You tell me what he’s planning and I’ll let you keep your shit, and give you more.”

This had been his play the entire time, Negan was sure that he could turn you against Rick and the others and use you as a double agent.

The issue with that is that was boring, and you didn’t feel like selling out your friends just for some stuff that didn’t even matter in this world anymore.

You smirked a little, and in a swift motion took the bat from his hands.

“Give Lucille back!” He roared.

“Aw is this special to you? You want it back you big baby?”

You raised your brows in suggestion then you moved your hand, flinging the bay across the fence, out into all of the walkers.

“Oops.”

He stormed over, grabbing you by the collar he landed a punch on your face, and he slammed you against the fence.

He sneered, clenching his jaw.

“Whatever game you’re fucking playing, I’m done with it. I’m going to have tour god damn bones sent back to the prick…”

“And I’m gonna haunt your ass until you go insane.” You smirked.

You tossed you aside, and you heard a loud bang before everything went black.

“Get me Lucille!” He snapped.

He looked down at your body, bullet in your head, and he walked past you over to his men and back inside.

He ordered somebody to take your body and throw it to the walkers, and he began gathering a company to pay Alexandria a visit, less than impressed with your visit.

He walked outside, and he was stopped by Simon.

“She’s gone.”

“What the fuck do you mean she’s gone? She wasn’t exactly fucking going anywhere Simon!”

“She’s gone Negan, someone came outside to move the body and it’s not there, there isn’t even a blood trail.”

Negan yelled, slamming his fist into the side of the truck.

“Then they find it!”

He got into the truck, balling his hands into fists in pure rage.

He stayed silent as they made their way to the community, and the gates were opened when they arrived.

“Rick!” He roared.

Said man came jogging over, slowly down to a walk.

“That bitch of a friend of yours, you send her to my home?”

“Who?” Rick asked confused.

“(Y/N), because I hate to break it to you but I put a bullet in the middle of her pretty little head, but now her body is missing, so how many did you send?”

“I never sent anyone.”

Negan grabbed Rick by the back of his shirt, dragging him towards his house and the people followed to see what was going on.

He tossed Rick to the ground and Negan took his gun, aiming it at Carl.

“You tell me the truth, or I put a bullet in your goddamn son too.”

“Oo scary.” You mocked.

“What the fuck?”

Negan turned around to see you sitting on the curb, and you grinned, offering him a little wave.

“Holy crap, now either you’re dead and I’m seeing shit, or there’s more than one of you.”

You hummed a little bit.

“No, just want. I don’t think poor Rick here could handle more than one of me, I annoy him enough.”

“Now I remember watching a bullet go through your brain.”

“Oh yeah? What it look like? Was there a lotta blood? Cause that’s always a fun way to die.”

“Let’s fucking find out!”

Negan took Rick’s gun and aimed it at you, pulling the trigger and a few people screamed.

Negan looked around at them all, noticing the lack of horror or sadness on their faces.

“Come on! What’s wrong with your people I just killed your friend!”

You pushed yourself up, rubbing your forehead, and you looked at your blood on the floor.

“Damn, that is a lot of blood.”

“What the fuck?!”

Negan walked over, shooting your again, and he grabbed his bat, hitting you a few times for good measure.

Your blood splattered his clothes and the ground, and he just stood there looking at you, watching you.

“(Y/N)s just going to wake up again.” Carl called.

Negan looked to him, and Carl shrugged a little bit.

“Apparently out of all the people in the world, death just don’t like me.” You said.

You sat up, wiping the blood from your eyes and you watched Negan spun around with a mortified look on his face.

He’d seen some shit, and done some shit, but this? This was something different compared to anything he had ever seen or done.

“What the shit is wrong with you? Why won’t you die?!”

He swung his bat again, this time keeping an eye on you, and he could see the blood stop flowing from your wound, and you grinned a little bit.

“Please keep going, maybe I can actually get a good night sleep for once.”

He took a few steps away from you, and you sat in your own blood, just grinning from ear to ear at him.

“I told you I’d haunt your ass…”

Negan looked to Rick.

“Tell me this shit ain’t real.”

“No, it’s real. Apparently there’s just no getting rid of (Y/N) at this point.” Rick sighed.

You pushed yourself up, wiping your hands on your shirt.

“Nope, you’re stuck with my ass until you die!” You beamed.

“This is fucking insane. You’re fucking insane.” Negan said.

You gave a half shrug.

“Maybe just a lot, yeah. Sanity comes and goes.”

You took a step forward and he subconsciously took one back.

The problem with being human was that no matter how big and tough you acted, if you saw something that wasn’t natural, your immediate response is to stay away from it.

So Negan pulled Rick in front of him and you stopped walking.

“What the actual fuck…? Now I got some psychos in my lot, but you? You’re a whole new level of fucked.”

“I know! It’s great!” You laughed.

You bent down, picking up a tree branch and you looked at Negan.

“So, who do you think will win? Me or you? Cause I’m kinda wondering how long it’ll take me to beat the shit outta you with this branch before it breaks.”

“You come any closer and I’ll paint the ground with his blood.”

You hummed.

“Yeah, okay.”

You tossed the stick aside.

“Oh by the way Negan, you should probably evacuate your base.”

“What the fuck did you do?”

“I maybe have rigged some explosives. I was bored waiting for you.”

Some of his men began running back to their cars and trucks.

“You should probably find them before someone triggers one.” You smirked.

He clenched his jaw, pushing Rick to the ground.

“Run…” you whispered.

You grabbed the stick and ran after them all, yelling as they jumped into their vehicles to try and get away from you.

It made you laugh loudly and you swung it at the door of Negans truck.

“You fucked it Negan! You can’t kill me but I can kill the shit out of you!”

He stuck his middle finger up at you as he drove away and you grinned proudly at Rick and a Michonne.

Daryl put his arm around your shoulders.

“See, this is why we need a crazy immortal son of a bitch.” He said.

“Yeah, what he said.”

“Well, at least that’ll make him rethink his next plans for a while.” Michonne said.

And it did.

Negan was now rethinking what he had been doing there.

People were a resource, he didn’t want to kill them, and apparently no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t kill you.

So he had to find a way to get around that if he wanted to keep doing what he was doing, but a voice in the back of his head was also warning him not to cross paths with you again.

But he wasn’t one to back down from a fight, and this just made things a whole lot more interesting

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Negan was smiling, apparently at ease sitting in a wingback chair as you were escorted in by Dwight. You wrenched your arm from his grip and glanced at Rick, whose expression was grim and worried. You thought you saw him gulp before he averted his eyes downward.

“There you are,” Negan said, grinning, looking you up and down not-so-subtly. He flicked his hand and Dwight began to leave. “Oh, Dwighty boy. Take Rick here with you. We’re gonna have a little private chat.” Negan’s eyes didn’t leave you and his smile was steady.

You stared at him through narrowed eyes and he let out a casual laugh. “It’s a good glare, but not quite as good as Daryl’s,” he commented, leaning forward slightly. Your heart lurched at the mention of his name. His tongue came out and wet his lips, but they returned right back into a smile which would have been charming if you hadn’t watched him beat two of your family members to death mere weeks ago…

You felt a surge of protectiveness for the family you had left. “Why’re you here? You didn’t bring the trucks for a supply pick up,” you pointed out, your tone wary.

He leaned back in his chair again and surveyed you. “A+. I didn’t. I didn’t need the big trucks for what I’m here for… but I am here for a pick up.” He watched your brow draw down in confusion. “I came for you now.”

You stomach somersaulted and panic tightened a sudden fist around your heart and lungs. He watched your eyes widen.

“You see, Daryl needs a little encouragement to get him to toe the company line. He’s really a stubborn pain in the ass,” Negan said, almost a lilt of admiration in his voice beneath that cocky smile. “He’s proving harder than I expected to break. So, I decided I need to apply a little extra to his pressure point.”

Your heart was racing so quickly it was like the whir of a hummingbird’s wings. “What does that have to do with me?” you asked, knowing full well the answer… But how did Negan know?

He pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth for a moment, giving you a knowing smile. He climbed to his feet and his tall, lean frame towered over you. “Oh, come on. Don’t play dumb with me doll… I was at the line-up after all. He did not like me talkin’ to you,” he grinned. “And just the mention of your name to him now—well,” he shrugged. “It’s obvious. He’d do anything for you. Anything,” he said, lowering his voice nearly to a whisper and fixing his eyes with yours. “So. It’s settled. You’re coming to The Sanctuary for a little reunion with Daryl. I think it’ll put some fucking spring in his step!”

You felt nauseous but were also determined not to show any weakness in front of Negan. “And Rick agreed to this?” you asked, skeptical.

“Fuck no!” he laughed loudly, tapping the side of his boot with Lucille absently and walking around you in a circle, his eyes wandering over you again. “But I’ve got Rick by his sad, tiny little balls! The poor prick is nearly castrated at this point. What the hell is he gonna do?” He laughed again.

You drew in a shaky breath. “I won’t be your wife,” you said.

Negan sighed, tilting Lucille over his shoulder. “Well, that’s a goddamn fucking disappointment,” he said, “though I can’t say it’s a surprise. Don’t worry, doll. I can make other arrangements. Now, I’m not gonna have Dwight sleep deprive you or feed you dog food or have my boys rough you up. No, you’ll be comfortable. You’ll have a nice cushy room to yourself and enough to eat… all the pretty things you could possibly want, but you will only go where I say you can when I tell you you can, and it may not be long before you’re beggin’ to be my wife.” That shit-eating grin was back on his face. “And Daryl? Well, I have a feeling as soon as he sees that I can get my paws on you whenever I want, he’s gonna start seein’ things my way.”

And you had to hand it to Negan… it was a good plan. If you and Daryl were switched, it would have worked on you… You’d do anything for him, anything to keep him safe. Anything.