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texanredrose · 7 years

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Over a Cup

Yang brushed a leaf from her hair as she stepped into the little coffee shop across the street from her apartment. Unlike her best friend and roommate, she didn't really like caffeinated beverages all that much, but this little shop also had a really delicious line of muffins and a special protein shake that she would actually consider killing for, if she was completely honest. After busting her butt for an hour at the gym around the corner, nothing felt quite as good as sitting outside on the patio, letting her hair air dry as she enjoyed her reward before heading back to her apartment. Aside from the chance to people watch and enjoy the outdoors, it gave her some much needed time to clear her mind.

About three years ago, her sister posted a video online, one taken very sneakily from the door of her bedroom as Yang raged over a lopsided multiplayer match in a first person shooter game. Between the two of them, Ruby had more technical proficiency in video games overall, but her elder sister could be stubborn and very creative when it came to coming up with ways of venting her frustration. Apparently, that combination appealed to many people and, before they really knew it, the sisters had a thriving gaming channel. Sometimes, it was Yang raging over a game or Ruby doing a speed run, and they’d even gotten to a point where they had reviews and demos and the like. On the upside: a steady gig they both enjoyed. Downside though? A lot of time spent indoors, which sometimes chaffed at the elder of the two. Given something to fiddle with, Ruby could stay inside for days, but Yang absolutely needed a breath of fresh air, hence her morning trips to the gym and the coffee house before heading back to the apartment and sitting down to record for a few hours.

Heading up to the counter, she checked her watch and grinned a little wider when the door chimed behind her, a sure sign that the woman who seemed to have a similar morning schedule had arrived right on time.

At first, Yang hadn’t noticed. More interested in her reward, she hadn’t thought to notice who ordered after her, but after a month or two, it occurred to her that the same voice placed the same order almost every day, and she’d snuck a few peeks at who seemed to always be behind her in line. The woman was tall, probably a little older than herself with white hair pulled into a tight bun and sharp blue eyes, always dressed in a crisp suit of white or some shade of blue, and ordered a grande mocha latte with an extra shot of espresso to go every day in a crisp, precise tone that brooked no room for argument. If Yang had to guess, she probably worked as a lawyer or an executive at some big name company, because for as often as they both frequented the coffee shop, she couldn’t be convinced that she’d ever seen the woman wear the same suit twice, and they definitely didn’t look like the bargain ones the sisters would occasionally wear to online media conventions and the like.

But aside from all that, she’d taken notice of one aspect in particular: the woman was drop dead gorgeous. Like, ethereal beauty wrapped in a satin glove, or one of those famous depictions of an ancient Goddess, maybe even a Maiden herself.

Yang hadn’t done anything with the information, though. A pretty lady stands behind her in line every day. What, was she supposed to turn around and strike up a conversation?

... actually, that sounded like a neat idea. Worst that could happen would be a few awkwardly exchanged lines and an uncomfortable silence, then they could go back to just standing in line together tomorrow like nothing happened.

Turning around, Yang prepared to deliver the best pick-up line she could, about to let it fly from her tongue when she stopped short. Behind her stood not a tall woman with piercing blue eyes and a resting bitch face but a dude about her height with shaggy grey hair and a raised brow.

“What? I got something on my face?”

“Nah, man,” she said, laughing lightly. “Just wanted to say that’s a killer hoodie, man.”

The men looked down and then smiled. “Hey, thanks. Got it from that thrift shop down the street.”

“It looks good on you,” she replied, turning back forward and thankful that the heat didn’t start rising in her cheeks until after she’d faced the counter again. Of course the one morning she decided to try striking up a conversation with the woman, she wouldn’t be there. Typical Xiao Long luck at work, she thought to herself as a self depreciating smile claimed her lips. Ah, well. Regardless of her lack of initiating a conversation with the person she wanted to, Yang proceeded to wait her turn and order her usual muffin and protein shake as always, waiting by the counter afterward and glancing at the door occasionally. The woman had to be coming through soon, probably just running a little late. It happened to everyone, so why not her?

When her order came up, she grabbed it and pushed her way outside, claiming one of the patio tables and sitting down in one of two chairs. In a manner of two minutes, she’d demolished the muffin and sat there, sipping on her shake while taking surreptitious glances up and down the street. Considering their orders were usually ready around the same time, Yang had noticed that she often got into a sleek looking white coupe, occasionally a silver one, and even a blue one every now and again. All of them looked expensive as hell and she mentally chastised herself for actually thinking she could start up a conversation with someone who probably made her yearly income in a manner of weeks.

But... by the time she’d finished her shake, the woman hadn’t arrived. Must’ve been running really late, which had to suck- even if she didn’t keep herself on as strict a schedule as the majority of the world, she still had deadlines.

Tapping her finger against the empty cup, Yang came to a decision. It probably wouldn’t amount to anything but it would be a nice gesture all the same. So she walked back into the coffee shop and waited in line again, getting up to the counter and giving the slightly surprised barista the order.

“A grande mocha latte with an extra shot of espresso, please,” she said, smiling wide. “Uh, to-go.”

The barista smirked, amusement shining in amber eyes. “People take days off, you know.”

... okay, she really didn’t expect to be found out that quickly. “Well, I mean, yeah, but if she’s just running late, it’d be nice to help her out.”

The woman on the other side of the counter- her nametag read ‘Blake’, which was probably her name- chuckled, though she tapped in the order all the same. “Are you really expecting a date out of this?”

“No. Honestly, I’ll take a ‘thank you’.” Yang shrugged. “Look, it I was running so far behind that I had the option between ducking in for my morning bright spot or getting to where I need to be, I’d like for some stranger to take pity on me and stand by the curb with a coffee.”

“And if she bypasses the place completely?”

“It’s the thought that counts?” She shrugged, pulling out her cash while the barista went about making the order. “That’s gotta earn me a little karma, right?”

Blake nodded. “You know, it just might.”

As she stepped aside to await the cup, Yang shot off a text to her sister, letting her know that she wouldn’t be back for a little while. With a rough guess, she figured twenty minutes- or, she supposed, however long it took for the coffee to become too cold to be drinkable- wouldn’t be that much of a delay, and all they were doing today would be editing and such.

A few minutes later, Yang went back outside to her little table and waited, the cup sitting in front of her. It wasn’t cold enough yet in the year for steam but the brisk wind did send a shiver down her spine. She preferred warmer weather, honestly, and would probably retreat to inside the shop in about a month or so. For now, she could enjoy it.

After about five minutes of waiting, a sleek white coupe pulled up and some part of Yang couldn’t believe it, sitting forward in her seat slightly.

It suddenly occurred to her that she hadn’t thought of what to say.

Shit.

Go with straight to the point, that usually worked out pretty well for her.

Standing up as she saw the woman she was waiting for exit the parked vehicle, Yang grabbed the cup and took a few steps towards her, clearing her throat.

“Uh, Miss? Here, I got you your coffee. Just how you like it.” Welp, that made her sound like a stalker. “I, uh, kinda picked up on it, since you always order after me. Anyway, figured it’d help out if you didn’t have to wait for your order, since you’re running late and all.” She paused, noting the woman had just stared at her thus far. “But... if you’d rather not... accept coffee from a total stranger, ya know, I totally get it-”

“How long have you been waiting?” The woman’s voice held a healthy amount of skepticism... but not much ‘fuck off’ and at least a little bit of genuine curiosity.

“About five minutes,” she replied, doing her best not to buckle under the woman’s sharp gaze. “I figured, ya know, you probably stopped here because it’s on your way to work, and if I just gave it a little time, you’d swing by. I mean, if you really wanted coffee this morning.”

With narrowed eyes, the woman accepted the cup... and then brushed past her into the coffee shop anyway.

Yang’s shoulders fell, a frown turning the corners of her lips down.

Well.. she’d tried, at least. Probably wouldn’t be able to look the woman in the eyes ever again but... hey, it wasn’t like they’d had any interaction prior to this.

She probably should just walk across the street and go home. Considering how awkward just giving the woman coffee was, sitting at a table when she came back out would probably be ten times worse... but at the same time, she really didn’t want to walk into the apartment and be confronted with her sister’s perpetual cheer just yet.

So she went back to her little table and sat down, lolling her head back and closing her eyes. Maybe if she just feigned being lost in her own world, she could avoid any further awkwardness.

A few customers came and went from the coffee shop and just as she prepared to get up and start her day, someone cleared their throat.

“Is this seat taken?”

Lilac eyes opened wide, surprised to find the woman standing beside the table carrying what appeared to be the same cup she’d given her... plus another. “Huh?” Blue eyes fell on the vacant seat. “Oh! No, go for it! Have a seat!” Sitting up properly, Yang watched as the new cup was set in front of her and the woman gracefully lowered herself into the extra chair. “I, uh, kinda thought, ya know, you’d head out... pretty immediately.”

“Today’s my day off,” she said, taking a sip- and, from how far back she tipped the cup, it certainly wasn’t her first.

“Uh... really?” Although it probably wasn’t entirely polite, her gaze flicked over the woman’s form. With a crisp suit and the tight bun, it... really didn’t seem that way. “You, uh, look like you do every day. No offense.”

“What’s wrong with that?” White brows furrowed, and it kinda looked like the woman was pouting just a little. Okay ‘pouting’ wasn’t the right word; she just seemed genuinely confused by the words. “Should I not look presentable when I go out in public.”

“I mean, yeah, sure, if that’ what you want.” Yang tilted her head slightly. “But doesn’t it hurt, having your hair pulled up like that all the time?”

“Isn’t it frustrating, having the wind always blowing your hair everywhere?”

She laughed, caught a little off guard by the quick retort. “Well, fair enough. Things can get pretty hairy on a windy day.” Yang’s lips pulled into a slightly wider smile at the woman’s unexpected chuckle, an idea coming to her. “But, check this out!” She reached into the pocket of her jeans, pulling out the hair tie she used in the gym. It was still a little damp from sweat but worked to pull her bountiful mane up into a messy ponytail. Once finished, she flashed a smile. “See? I can change things up.”

The woman watched her for a moment before reaching up to pull out some unseen pin- and she almost couldn’t believe it was that easy- which allowed her bun to to come undone, a shake of her head sending long white waves cascading over her shoulders. “There. Now are you willing to believe me?”

“Uh huh,” she replied a little dumbly, surprised at how much less severe the woman’s countenance appeared now that she had her hair down. “I’m, uh, Yang, by the way. Yang Xiao Long.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” the woman replied, offering her hand. “My name is Winter Schnee. And, if you’re willing to try it, I think you might rather like that.” Her gaze darted down to the untouched coffee cup. “It’s chai tea. Not heavy on the caffeine but a good flavor.”

“Huh. Alright, I’ve got some time to kill.” She reached over and picked up the cup. “So... what is it you do? If you don’t mind the question, of course.”

Ruby called her an hour later, wondering what held her up- not upset, of course, but just unused to her sister getting so thoroughly distracted- and Yang blushed a little at the realization that they’d gotten so caught up in chatting, she hadn’t even noticed how long ago they’d finished their drinks. When she hung up, promising she’d be there soon, Winter offered an apology that didn’t sound quite sincere.

“I didn’t mean to keep you from anything important.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” She drummed her fingers against the table. “Ya know, I’d ask for us to chat in the mornings more often, but you seem pretty busy-”

“Honestly, I arrived about an hour and a half early for work every day,” the other woman said, a smile curling her lips. “I think I can spare half an hour here and there.”

“Well, alright then.” Yang chuckled. “It’s a date!”

“And one I look forward to.”

#Elderburn #Elderburn Week #Day 3: Coffee Shop AU #TRR writes

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mmtions · 7 years

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wedding: impossible (pt.2)

(pt.1)

michelle jones/peter parker - college/future fic (wip)

Against his better judgement, Peter has agreed to be MJ’s fake date to a wedding so she can usurp the bride, or something. Considering how much he’d like to be her not-fake date, he’s not really looking forward to it.

Despite all her apparent indifference to them both - and, really, most of her peers - MJ had become a close friend to Ned and himself. So much so that he freely told her his big, spider-themed secret. (She’s actually the only person he’s deliberately told, which is a milestone he’s not keen on analyzing too deeply.)

She’d reacted pretty calmly, actually, only hitting him with a medium-sized Chimamanda Ngozi Adiche novel, rather than the special edition hardcover that was also in reaching distance.

So, they survived high school together, becoming an unexpectedly tight-knit trio (with absolute no parallels to Harry Potter, shut up Ned). They even survived the entry and violent departure of Harry Osborne from the group, which caused all kinds of angst for Peter, definitely revolving around the supervillainy rather than the whole dating-MJ thing, thank you very much.

And they’d even survived college applications together. Ned and Peter had been talking about MIT since they realised it wasn’t a fictional place on spy TV shows, and Harvard should consider itself lucky to get MJ as one of its alumni. It was a happy coincidence that they all lived within a twenty-minute car ride of each other, really.

None of this, however, explains why exactly Peter is currently on a ferry to Martha’s Vineyard, trying to make conversation with MJ that isn’t horrifically awkward.

He’d picked her up from her college dorm in the car guilt-gifted to him by Mr. Stark after the whole Infinity War mess, and most of the words exchanged during the whole hour-and-a-half trip had been about which radio station to play. They’re currently sitting inside the main ferry, a booth to themselves, looking out onto the passing waves. Peter’s already wearing his suit, the plain black one he last wore to graduation, but MJ told him that she’d change on the journey. (As long as she’s not expecting him to keep driving while she strips off in the front seat next to him, he’s perfectly happy with the plan).

“Hey,” she suddenly says, apropos of nothing. “Does this remind you of that time with the Vulture and the ferry splitting in half?” Because of course she’d gone into scary-research-mode with she’d first found out his double life.

“Um,” he looks around. The smell of seawater is stronger when it’s not filtered through a fear-sweaty mask, and the view isn’t quite the same, but, “Yeah, kind of, now you mention it. Thanks for that.”

She snickers. “No problem.”

And, well, he finds himself smiling, because he can’t help himself, and because this is their status quo, her making fun of pretty much every aspect of his character, and he didn’t realise how much he missed it even in the past week.

He readjusts his tie - although maybe he could just have taken it off for the journey - and of course MJ’s eyes narrow in on the movement. “I like your suit,” she says.

“Thanks,” he says. “May said I should match the tie to your dress, but you won’t tell me anything about it, so…”

Laughing easily, she replies, “Gold medal to Aunt May for remembering prom etiquette. Anyway, I’ve brought two dresses with me, and they’re different colours.”

“I’m sure I could have packed two ties,” he counters with a perfect poker face.

“Shut it, Parker.” She leans to teasingly shove at his shoulder. “Seriously, thanks for coming. I was considering Ned, but I’ve seen him on Dance Dance Revolution, and I can’t afford to lose an eye during the macarena, you know?”

He snorts. “Sure, happy to save you from that. But who turned you down before you considered me?”

He meant it as just a joke, ready for her to roll her eyes and say a cheerleader or her current debating rival, but as soon as he says it, he realises how desperate it probably sounded. He swallows, and prepares his commentary on the weather, when she frowns, a crease between her brows like every-time he says something stupid.

“I didn’t consider anyone else,” she says, and she actually seems sincere, which, honestly, has happened maybe five times during their entire friendship.

He rolls his eyes. “I’m joking, MJ, don’t worry.”

“Peter,” she says, and she puts her hand over his where it rests between them on the bench. “Seriously. You were my first choice.”

He casts his gaze anywhere but her face. “It’s okay, I’m here, you don’t need to-”

“Peter, I needed someone charismatic, and hot, and nice, and who I trust. Your waltz skills were a big bonus, I’ll admit,” and here, she grins, disarmingly casual, as if his whole world hasn’t stuttered a little bit at so many compliments coming from her mouth. “But I wanted you to come with me.”

“Uh,” he says, eloquently.

“I’m gonna go change into my outfit,” she says, abruptly, standing and edging out of the booth. “Stay here. And try not to sink the boat this time, yeah?”

He shakes himself. “Not funny!” He yells after her retreating figure. She flips him off in response, and a mother shields her daughter’s eyes from the gesture as MJ stalks past them, duffel bag slung over her shoulder. Great.

While he waits for her to return, he nervously fixes his hair - and probably messes it up more - and considers texting Ned. Although what would he send?

(hey, has MJ been complimenting you recently? unrelated q: how’s that alien mind control detector coming along?)

He could maybe text May, but she’d get the wrong idea. Well, probably the right idea, but she’s always liked MJ, even more after the whole first semester mess that was his month-long relationship with Carlie Cooper. Even thinking her name makes the smell of burning strong in Peter’s nostrils, and he shivers. Bad mental path to go down, Parker.

He decides to just refresh Twitter, liking Pepper Potts’ (@CEOStarkPotts) tweet about fracking, and Mr. Stark’s subsequent reply about where he’d like to drill for oil, which he only likes out of courtesy because the actual mental image is bleach-drinking worthy.

He quickly finds himself then in a internet spiral, and he’s watching a Youtube restoration of a dug-up axe when there’s a cough from somewhere near. He startles, and looks up, and then thinks that maybe the ship did sink and he’s dead. Completely and utterly dead.

“It’s red,” he chokes out. At this point, it might be easier to just tattoo ‘giant dweeb’ across his forehead.

She rolls his eyes. “Cheers, Parker, consider your next opticians’ appointment postponed. Seriously, is it okay, or should I try on the other one?”

He shakes his head so fast he’s in danger of dislocating his jaw. He’s staring, definitely, but he doubts anyone would blame him. Because MJ - Michelle freakin’ “fashion is capitalism’s worst industry” Jones - is wearing this long red slinky dress that looks soft and shiny and amazing. “Nope, no,” he says. (Smooth.) “No, I think that one works. It’s, ah, you’re really - it looks good. Yeah,”

God, it’s almost the exact shade as the red on his suit. Don’t worry, Dr. Octopus, MJ is going to murder Peter Parker by just wearing spaghetti straps, you’re welcome.

She slides back into the booth, and tucks her hair - which is out of its usual ponytail and falling all around her face in all its wild glory - behind her ears. “Thanks.” Then the soft smile is quickly hidden behind a meaner grimace. “This’ll show Anna.”

“You still haven’t told me what your big problem with this girl is,” Peter points out, thankful for the distraction of conversation.

She sniffs. “It’s a long story. And I can only tell it when the sun’s down.”

He rolls his eyes. He has no idea why he likes her so much, honestly.

They follow the GPS’s directions and arrive at the hotel, a charming place with white stone and a long gravel driveway accented with pretty, flowering trees. Naturally, MJ pulls a face at it.

“This is so typical of her,” she says.

“It looks nice,” he rebukes.

They follow the signs to the car park, and Peter only takes three tries, amidst MJ’s laughter, to get it into the parking bay. They traipse to the main entrance, other guests mingling and following their path.

"Wait," Peter asks as they reach the lobby and join the queue of people for the reception desk. "We're staying here tonight?"

"Yeah," MJ replies casually. "The ceremony and reception are here, so."

"You booked the rooms?"

At this, MJ suddenly seems distracted by her fingernails. "Room. Singular. And, yeah. Least I could do for dragging you out here."

He's too afraid to ask the other question he has, which is promptly answered when they get up to their designated Room 342. It has exactly one double bed, right in the middle of the room, like it's taunting him.

"I-" he swallows. "I'll call reception, get them to send some more pillows so I can sleep on the floor."

"Don't be stupid," she dismisses, already chucking her bag onto the right side and popping the complimentary pillow mint into her mouth. "You can't help little old ladies cross the street if your back's as bad as theirs. We can share."

Right. They can share a bed. Sure.

"When does the ceremony start?" Peter asks, a little desperately as MJ sits on the bed and bobs a little, testing the springiness, which is not a turn-on, shut up.

"In half an hour, probably." She shrugs. "I'm not bothered if we turn up late though."

He narrows his eyes. "You want to turn up fashionably late to a wedding ceremony."

"I'm not saying I want to, I'm just saying I wouldn't be bothered," she counters, with a straight face, until she breaks and stands back up. "Kidding, kidding. Let's go. I think one of my cool cousins is here."

He frowns, following her out into the hallway and only just remembering to grab the keycard from the small table by the door. "How come your cousin is here? I thought you knew this girl from middle school?"

"Yeah, we went to middle school together," MJ agrees, and perhaps Peter should know not to be fooled by her casual tone by now. "But she's my aunt's daughter."

Peter stops. Like, he actually stops walking, right there on the patterned carpeting. "So, your cousin.”

She mockingly shudders. "Gross. I try to pretend we're not related."

“This is your cousin’s wedding,” he says slowly, the horrible truth dawning on him.

She stops at the elevators just in time to give him a side profile of her rolling her eyes. “Yes, if you want to be pedantic, I guess.”

He swallows. "Exactly how many of your family members are going to be down there?"

She finally halts as well, and turns to look at him, raising an eyebrow like he's the one being ridiculous. Then she twists her lips, thinking. "Hm," she says, and he waits with held breath. "Only the ones on my mom's side."

Yep. He's going to die.

He throws his arms in the air. Possibly he's being very dramatic, but come on! "MJ! Are you kidding? This would have been vital information before we got here!"

Something weird and undefinable flickers across her face. "Would you have not come if you knew?" she counters, which is really beside the point.

"Of course I would've come," he says, immediately, because it's the truth. If MJ asked him to come as his date to a wedding between a disapproving Steve Rogers and Electro, he would've turned up with his shoes shined. Regardless, he thinks he has the right to be a little thrown. "You're seriously going to introduce me to your whole family as your boyfriend? To get revenge on your cousin?”

He at least expects a little contrition from her. But instead, the elevator doors slide open with a small chime, and the corner of her lips are curling, like she’s daring him to do something. “You up for the challenge, Spider-Man?”

God help him. His head rolls back in defeat, and she slips into the elevator. He has a split-second to decide: and then he’s darting forward to slide in before the doors shut.

She looks up at his entrance, as if maybe she hadn’t been all that sure, and he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Fine, I’m in,” he says, and his smile is met by one of her own. “But you have to tell me the story behind your hatred of Anna, and I get to tell everyone you cried at the ceremony.”

She bites down on her bottom lip in that way she does whenever she wants to laugh at one of his dumb jokes but is too proud to. “Deal.”

“And,” he adds as she presses the button for the lobby, because something feels different, and he’s still sparking from the sight of her in that dress. “You have to strongly imply I’m the best you’ve had in bed.”

He’s expecting her to laugh straight in his face. But suddenly her expression is… different. Before he can work out exactly what’s going on, the elevator doors are opening again, and she’s striding away.

He takes a deep breath, and readjusts his tie one last time. Come on, Spider-Man, he thinks, and follows her.

thanks for the amazing response so far!! I think this is going to be my last update on tumblr - I’m going to finish the rest, and then probably post the full thing as a one-shot on ao3. hope you enjoyed this next part!

#spideychelle #peter x mj #peter x michelle #spiderman: homecoming #peter parker #michelle jones #spideychelle fanfiction #spider-man fanfiction #i

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totalfanfreak · 7 years

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Apprehension

[A/N: This is an excerpt for My Sweet Pup, and I think it speaks when I say it’s for NeganSmutWeek. And today or tomorrow I’ll make the gif from 7x07 when he holds his hand out because I can’t find it. ]

You couldn’t help the humming, the small smile on your face, but with yesterday being so great and today looking good too, you couldn’t help it. You hummed until you got near the shooting range, looking for Simon, waiting for the men to lower the guns before approaching.

“Mr. Ogg, Miles said you would need these.”

The older man smiled at you, telling the men to take a break before taking the duffel bag from you.

“Hell far, honey, this probably weighs more than you!”

You grinned. “I’m stronger than you boys give me credit for.”

“I can tell! You don’t need to be running errands for us though; you know the boss wouldn’t take to his woman doing that.”

“I know, but I was on my way to the gardens anyways. Are you guys getting ready to leave?”

“Yep, that’s why we needed the ammo for.”

“Oh. Am I allowed to ask where you’re going?”

Simon chuckled. “You’re allowed to ask whatever you want, honey. We’re on our way to a community called The Kingdom.”

You smiled in curiosity. “Sounds kind of nice, does it look like a castle or something?”

“No honey, but they do have a good amount of supplies and we’re hoping to strike up a deal with them.”

“But you’re taking guns?”

Simon held up his hands in defense. “Only for if they get hostile, you know Negan doesn’t call for violence unless someone else makes the move to do so.”

You nodded. “Is he going?”

Simon shook his head. “I’m in charge of the fleet this time.”

“I hope everything goes well, and that you stay safe, Mr. Ogg.”

“I’ve asked you to drop the mister shit, honey.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll try to remember next time Mr. – Simon.”

“There you go, and thanks for the drop-off.”

You nodded, scampering back off before the guns started to fire again. You hated the loud noises, you didn’t care for the smell either, it reminded you of too many bad things. The green foliage coming into view your mood brightened again. You loved working in the gardens or the greenhouse. There was still a lot to do, but it was all growing steady, planting numerous crops and herbs, also flowers, you and Tanya had snuck those in not expecting them to grow but the sprigs coming to life.

Ducking down onto your knees you breathed in the hefty scent of sage and basil, letting out a breath as it relaxed you. You put your work gloves on, starting to pull out the weed invaders that had tried to sneak in, filling up a bucket of mulch to cover the gaps before pruning some of the leaves that had been killed from too much sun. Wiping your brow, you looked up; maybe you should have brought a hat for a little shade. You shook your head a little miffed that you didn’t think too, at least you had rubbed yourself down with sunscreen before heading out in the summer heat.

Kneeling further in you began to pluck some field chamomile to dry and use for tea later. Pulling yourself up you wrenched down with a squeal as something cold and wet had been held on the back of your neck.

“And here I thought you’d enjoy that, sunshine.”

You hid your face, concealing your smile. “That wasn’t nice, Negan, you scared me.”

“Oh, come on now, darlin’, I was trying to be nice bringing my favorite girl a drink.”

You smiled up at him, holding out your hand. “Will you help me up then?”

Taking hold of the gloved hand he offered, you grasped on with both hands until he lost his balance, tumbling face first next to you.

“You little sneak!”

The volume would usually make you recede, but after spending so much time around him you knew he was still in a playful mood.

“I got you back.”

He smiled, dimples growing. “You did, and squashed a few flowers in the process.”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine. Like I told Simon earlier, like me, some things are stronger than they look.”

“So it’s Simon now is it, muscle woman?”

“He’s told me he doesn’t like being called, Mr. Ogg, said it makes him feel too damn old.”

Negan laughed, sitting up on his elbows, and offering you the bottle of water.

You took it, smiling gratefully. “Thank you for bringing me this, Negan. I know you’re busy.”

He pushed back some hair behind your ear. “Never too busy for my sunshine, seeing you is the best part of my day.”

“Oh, really?”

“Come on now, darlin’, you know there’s better things to do than lie about that.”

Bracing your weight on a knee you leaned over and kissed a dimple, a rush feeling you as the whiskers tickled your lips when the smile became larger.

“Seeing you is one of my favorite things of the day too.”

“Only one of them, huh?”

Your smile was playful. “Well, I do enjoy seeing the girls and the gardens, oh, and there the – Ah!”

He had tugged you to the ground, pinning you lightly down. Seeing him above you like that your smile began to fall. This had been happening more and more over the last few weeks, the gestures his face and body made, the sweet things he said and done for you, moments like this, it was changing your aspect. When you had first got here, they had been kind, but you shimmied away from his glance and contact, the fear of what could happen too much for you. But now it was anticipation, the giddiness in waiting to see what was next, which scared you more.

Taking your hand from his grasp, you let your hand cup Negan’s cheek. He could be so gentle, and you wondered if he would in his bed. You couldn’t pinpoint when those thoughts had come about, but the intensity of them was growing. But the fear that this man could ever be like them, that all men could be depraved, acting like animals, taking what they wanted from you when they wanted. All because you weren’t strong enough to fight them all back. It was survival of the fittest in the worst way, and you never wanted to categorize Negan with one of them. But what if that gentle nature slipped into something else? You knew his edges were rough, you knew the image he held, but you didn’t want him to change into something unrecognizable when you were in a vulnerable state.

Your vision came back into focus as you felt his leather glove trail your cheek. “Where’d you go, darlin’?”

You shrugged. “I was just waiting to see if you were going to kiss me or not.”

“If you’re offering, then there’s no way I’d turn it down.”

You were able to smile again, his scent of leather and smoke as his breath warmed your face before his lips touched yours. This was familiar, though you knew it wasn’t all. If it was this way it wouldn’t be bad, maybe it was possible to be good anyway, maybe he’d be just as vulnerable as you would be.

“The fuck you want! Can’t you see I’m fucking busy here?”

You stiffened and relaxed, the tone sending you back. Looking over Negan’s shoulder you could make out the outline of a man.

“Sorry sir, but Jiro says he needs to speak with you.”

“Fuck! Tell his dumbass I’ll be there in five.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Goddamn their bullshit.”

You reached up, rubbing your thumb along the deep v that had formed between his eyebrows until it smoothed away. Him turning to look back at you when the man was out of sight.

“Always getting upset, I don’t want you to have to feel that way around me.”

“I don’t, darlin’, but these dumb fucks –“

Not letting him finish you sat up and took his lips with yours, kissing him until he sighed in your mouth.

“Doesn’t that feel better than being angry?”

“Absolutely, and as much as I want to kiss those lips all fucking day, I got to deal with this.”

“I know.”

With that you were pulled to your feet, dusting each other off as he picked up Lucille.

“I’ll tell you what, sunshine, how about you come to my room tonight? We can play scrabble or watch a movie or some shit, anything you want.”

Anything?

“But it’s not my night.”

Negan snorted. “You think the girls are going to give a shit? It’s up to you, darlin’, I hope you’ll come by later.”

With that you watched him strut away, and you were left a pile of jitters. You’d go, you already knew that. But you didn’t know exactly what you planned to do. You didn’t have to do anything; you knew that too, he had four other wives to keep him happy in that regard. But you wondered, and it turned to wanting.

Why would he want something like you? Already touched, already tainted.

No, you’d push those thoughts away. It was up to him. But you didn’t think he’d turn you away. Rummaging through your dresser you found the silky shorts and camisole that you had been given. If you lost your nerve you would still be comfy in his room.

You walked down the hallway, sprinting away from view of the common area, hoping none of the girls saw you. Negan was probably right, they wouldn’t mind being skipped, but you still felt bad taking someone else’s time away. Knocking softly, you waited, hearing the faint ‘come in’ on the other side. You beamed inward, Negan was in his pajamas too, and you had gotten used to his t-shirts and boxers or flannel pants, and he had the pants but no shirt. Your eyes darted down his chest, odd, how before you never would have found a man with so much hair attractive but now all you wanted was to twill your fingers through the curls.

“Hey, there darlin’ got the TV in here, what’re you wanting to watch?”

You shrugged, meekly. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t matter? Well, you want to play some scrabble or cards then?”

You shook your head up at him, sitting down on the bed before he came closer.

“So what do you want to do sunshine?”

You blushed, knowing how evident the red was in your cheeks.

“Darlin’?”

Takin a hand from his side you raised it to your mouth, placing kisses on the tips before giving an open mouth one on his palm. Holding his wrist you could feel his pulse picking up, and you hoped that was a good sign as you let your head lift to glance at him.

“I could say something crude like what I want to do is you…but, I just want it to be us tonight. I’m not sure how to go about it –“

“Where is this coming from, sunshine?”

“I, I just wanted to try –“

“You know you don’t have to right? I’d never ask that of you. I love the fact that you come in here and enjoy time with me, not counting down to when you have to leave.”

Gif by mypapawinchester

“I know, but, don’t you ever think about it, with me?”

He groaned, his eyes glazing over slightly. “I have, I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable darlin’, but I have on quite a few occasions.”

“I’ve thought about you too.”

You took the hand, placing it on your collarbone, letting your eyes close when you felt the tips skim along the exposed skin.

“We don’t have to do this. I’m not going to force you.”

“You’re not. I got to admit, right now, I feel like I’m taking advantage.”

“Sunshine, you have no idea how many times I’ve wanted this, I just don’t want it to be something you’ll regret later on.”

You let yourself fall closer, letting the hair around his abdomen tickle your nose. “I won’t, you’re my husband, Negan, and I want this.”

He ran a hand through his hair, before taking hold of you and pulling up to the pillows.

“If we’re going to do this, then we’re going to take it nice and easy.”

You nodded, trying to make yourself comfortable and enticing on the bed. You could feel your cheeks still burning embers as he trapped your thigh between his legs the rest of his body coming up and kissing you. You gave a sharp exhale in his mouth and you felt the quirk of lips as a smile took over the kiss. Like with his hands he gave tiny kisses along your face, making you giggle before going back to your lips. You let his tongue glide in then, falling back as he flattened against you. You tried to kiss back, but he took hold of the muscle, sucking on it until you groaned. At last able to act on impulses and grind upwards on one of his legs.

He pulled his lips away with a smack. “You’re getting eager too quick, darlin’, got to go slow here.”

But you didn’t want it this slow, you thought you; you figured a little kissing but straight to nudity and then…

You felt him sucking on your ear, causing your breath to hitch, his hands moving their way up your sides revealing the skin under your camisole.

“Shouldn’t I be doing something?”

He chuckled. “And what do you think you should be doing?”

“Shouldn’t I be kissing or touching you somewhere? You’re making me feel good like this but I’m not giving anything.”

He moved his leg slightly. “You feel that, sunshine, that’s what you’re doing. That’s what you always do to me.”

You could feel it, and you gasped aloud with it pressed so firm against you. You moved your hand from his shoulder to the tops of his pants only to have him pin your wrist next to your head.

“This is about you, darlin’, just relax, I’m getting a lot more out of this than you think.”

With that he let go, moving so he could move your camisole off, asking with his eyes for permission. You nodded, and suddenly you were exposed, he had seen you before but somehow this was new, this was different and you felt renewed. His tongue glided along your sternum, blowing gently at the trail he left making goosebumps raise along you. He kissed his way around your areola, chuckling when you grasped his hair, nosing the nipple before taking it into his mouth.

“Oh.”

He let it pop out, letting his tongue flicking it to a stiffened peak.

“That’s what I want to hear sunshine, you let it out, all you want.”

You whimpered at that, a little bewildered on how much you would do. The callouses of his hands added to the feeling, every bit of you becoming more sensitive with each move he made. Swapping breasts he let one of his hands go down, tracing the outer ridge of your navel before letting his mouth follow. Dipping his tongue in you grunted, wanting him to quit teasing. His response was to ignore you moving all the way down and taking a foot in his hold.

“I could kick you.”

He grinned, tickling the arches until your foot flexed in his hold. “You could, but I don’t think that’s what you want to do darlin’.”

He kissed your knee, before tugging the bottom of your shorts. There were remnants of being shy but you wanted this and you helped push the material down your legs.

“You’re radiant, Y/N.”

“Show me you, Negan, please.”

“Not yet.”

“Please, you’re being so cruel to me.”

You saw him smile on your inner thigh. “My poor girl.”

It was then you felt his tongue on your lower lips, and you became undone, back arching into his hold. He hummed into you, causing you to gasp loudly. He started languid, tongue licking over the pink folds of you, circling your center before heading for your nub. Clenching his hair harder, he went faster, tongue spearing onto the swollen bundle before sucking it between his teeth and rolling it.

“Oh, God, Negan, Negan I’m –“

Your hips jerked trying to follow the motions of his mouth as your body went over a cliff. You lost your breath, sucking in air in harsh gasps.

“Negan.”

“You all right sunshine?”

You nodded, giving a lazy smile. “That was amazing.”

“If it’s okay with you then there is more to come.”

“It’s fine by me. As long as I get to touch now.”

He planted kisses up your body, keeping a space between your lips feeling his breath on your tongue. You became even more aroused when you could smell the subtle hint of yourself on him, before he slowly descended on you, claiming your mouth to his. It was your turn to hum and his teeth clacked against yours from his grin. He pressed his forehead to yours before leaning over the bed, you knew what the square package was and you blushed a little as you gripped his shoulders.

He pulled back, shuffling the pants off his legs, exposing the trail of hair to the thatch between his legs, his length springing upwards to his stomach. He rolled the neon rubber down himself , and moved back to you. Your breathing hitching as you felt him on your leg. Taking your hands he entwined your fingers with his.

“You ready, sunshine?”

You kissed him then, nodding as your nose trailed his. You felt him at your opening, the plump head pushing its way through. You couldn’t put the right word to it, the closest you could get was euphoric. Not only was it Negan, not only was he gentle, but the pulsating of his length and the pulsing of your own core in sync as he pushed further in, bringing to life all the nerve endings inside. You moaned, letting your head fall back, his mouth going to your neck, sucking the skin and leaving his mark. Your nails scratched down his back, and you let yourself boldly grasp his backside. He groaned then, picking up your hips and letting him push up against your cervix.

“Negan!”

“That’s it sunshine, let me know who you belong to.”

He started thrusting then, the pace as steady as it had been when he was teasing you. His hips rocking and touching yours as he took hold of your chin locking eyes with you. He pushed the hair that had begun to stick to your face kissing you lightly. The look in his eyes was something you hadn’t seen before, it was tender, but it was perplexed, like he had figured something out but he wasn’t sure how he had gotten the answer. You took your free hand and wiped the sweat from his forehead, letting your lips graze his face.

“I love you, Negan.”

He turned away then, a noise like a sharp cry coming from him. His pumping became faster, the inside of you becoming more sensitized. You tried to push your hips down to his, finding his rhythm. He took that to mean he could plunge in harder and you shrieked.

“Negan!”

You were close, so close, and he picked you up, his length sliding even deeper as he guided you up and down him. You clasped to him, curving your body to his. He plucked your nipples then, twisting them slightly as he bit your collarbone. That was all you needed and your body bowed his name a whisper in your mouth as you flooded him with your juices. He pulled out, laying you back down and you watched in awe as he pulled the condom off, exposing him, as he used his hand to make him finish. His own juice coming out in surges, and you sighed as its warmth coated your stomach. He collapsed down next to you, and when your high was over you were anxious on what you were supposed to do. Usually when you had finished a game or movie you went back to your room. Did he want you to? He looked like he was going to fall asleep. Getting up you went to get your pajamas.

“Where do you think you’re going sunshine?”

“I, uh, I didn’t know if you wanted to be alone now or not.”

That look was back on his face, the confusion. His hand came out to caress your face.

“No, darlin’, I don’t, do you?”

You shook your head, a small smile tugging its way up.

“Then neither of us have to be alone anymore, sunshine, now let me clean you up so we can lay back down.”

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