Imagine Richonne in a Rom Com...


""""Final call for Flight 957 to Agadir, Morocco. Boarding now at Gate 14.""""


"Shit. Shit, shit, shit!" Michonne grumbled nervously under her breath as she did her best Florence Joyner impression navigating through Atlanta International Airport. Thanks to traffic and an unforeseen power outage at her home, she was running late for her flight. She reached her gate, just as the flight attendant was about to close the door.

"Wait, wait!" She cried out. The pink and gold duffle bag she carried, containing only her shoes, felt like a ton of bricks. The straps pressing tightly against her arm was sure to leave its red imprint. Michonne pulled her second carry on suitcase in her other hand and plodded to the entrance. One might say she went overboard with the packing for a two week vacation (she had another oversized suitcase in bag check), but it is better to be prepared than to wish you brought that extra dress, or four, for the impromptu night out with the hot Moroccan surfer.

"Cutting it close." The attendant said, reaching out for her boarding pass.

No shit. Michonne thought to herself. She feigned a smile and replied, "Yeah."

The flight attendant scanned her ticket, "Enjoy your flight."


Michonne finally caught her breath as she walked through the gate and onto the plane. This was her first time traveling so far alone. It had been Andrea's idea to get her to sign up for an all-inclusive Singles Retreat, on the beautiful Northern coast of Africa. Encouraging her that she needed to get back out into the world, Michonne reluctantly agreed. Leaving her son in the capable and caring hands of her parents, she was now on the plane and ready. In a few hours bathing underneath the magnificent Moroccan sun. She viewed the boarding pass in her hand, Row 12, Seat C.

"Excuse me." Michonne piped as she maneuvered her way through the tight aisle, reading the numbers above the seats.

"9, 10, 11..." Coming to a stop, she dropped her shoe bag on the floor in front of her. There was a man sitting in Row 12, Seat C. "Excuse me, Sir." She spoke. He was busy thumbing through one of the airline magazines to even acknowledge her. "Excuse me, Sir!" She repeated louder this time, commanding his attention. He looked up at her and Michonne was taken aback at how attractive he was. He had electric blue eyes, a jaw chiseled by the gods, rich brown curls that framed his face in the most statuesque way. She softened her voice, "I believe you are sitting in my seat."

"I reckon I'm not." He answered, pulling out his boarding pass from the front seat pocket.

Not to be sidetracked by his creamy southern dialect, nor was she any longer stunned by his looks, Michonne set her hand to her hip, annoyed. Her feet hurt, her arms hurt, and she was 100% positive this was her seat. "Uh.." She started, "I reckon you are. It says right here on my boarding pass. 12C. Row 12, Seat C." She held it in front of his face so he could see she was indeed telling the truth.

The man scanned his pass, "Well, what does this day?" He asked passing it to Michonne.

Smartass. She thought, taking it from his hand. Sure enough, his boarding pass too indicated that he belonged in 12C. The Airline double booked her seat. "Shit." She said out loud, passing the boarding pass back to the man. He gave her a half smile, then returned to his magazine. Michonne moved and scanned the plane for the nearest flight attendant. A male attendant caught her attention and walked over.

"May I help you ma'am?" He politely asked.

"Yes. It seems like the airline double booked my seat. I'm supposed to be in 12C, but as you can see, that assho-, I mean, that man over there is already sitting in it."

"Let me check ma'am." He said. "Hold tight." The attendant walked over to the man in her seat. Michonne could see the irritation in his face as he was forced to pull out his boarding pass again so the attendant could double check. After confirming it, the attendant held up a finger to Michonne, indicating for her to wait a moment, while he sorted it out. She hoped that there would be an extra seat on this flight. The retreat had a pretty fixed itinerary and she did not want to miss any of it. It was close to a 12 hour flight with an hour layover, if she had to wait for another plane she would essentially miss an entire day.

The flight attendant returned and escorted Michonne to the middle seat of the emergency exit row. Sitting beside her, in the aisle seat was a woman holding a young toddler. On the window side was an older man who was already snoring away. Fucking Great. Michonne began to stuff her carry-on bags into the overhead compartment. Her suitcase was no issue, but the duffle full of shoes proved to be a little more difficult. She worked up a bit of a sweat beating the bag down so it would fit. Her eyes drifted to the man who was in her rightful seat. He was staring right at her. What the fuck is he looking at? She rolled her eyes and continued with the task at hand. Finally, she got her bag inside and closed the hatch. She situated herself in the middle seat, and though it was not ideal, Michonne was grateful she had made it.

"Hi, I'm Maggie." The young woman sitting next to her greeted extending her hand out. Michonne shook it cordially. "This here is Hershel Jr. We are on our way to meet up with his Daddy and our family in South Korea." She explained proudly.

Michonne smiled. That was a nice sentiment, though she was not thrilled about the idea of riding hours next to a toddler in emergency exit seating where she would not even be able to recline.

"You won't have to worry about him. He is well behaved, quiet just like his Daddy. It's the only reason why I was comfortable travelling this long way with him." Maggie assured. Michonne nodded in understanding. To be fair, she was pretty good with toddlers anyway, so maybe it won't be so bad. That was until an ungodly smell started to invade her nostrils.

Slyly bringing her hand to her nose she asked, "Do you need to change him? Before we take off?"

Maggie lifted the tiny boy, sniffing his backside, causing him to giggle. "No. I just changed him a little while ago, I think that's coming from..."

They both turned to look at the old man, snoring in the window seat. A ghost of a smile playing across his features.

Michonne leaned back into her seat, and put her headphones on. Fucking Great.


Rick wiped his forehead with the red kerchief hanging from his back pocket as he waited at Arrivals. The heat of Morocco was an already welcomed change to the humidity of King County, but he definitely was stocked and prepared with his SPF 30. He had been gifted with this all-expense paid trip by his best friend, Shane, in an effort to get him out of his doldrums. It was supposed to be a game changer as Shane so graciously put it, but he had only one condition. All Rick had to do was try. And try he shall.

He ventured to the area where the taxi's lined up waiting to catch a fare. Stretching out his arm, a small red car pulled up in front of him and popped its trunk. He turned to gather his luggage, one suitcase and a carry on, and when he looked back to put his belongings in the cab, the driver was lifting a different oversized suitcase into the car. He caught the glimpse of the back of woman's head as she hurriedly entered the backseat of the cab. Her dreadlocks flowing carelessly behind her. It was the woman from the plane.


"Thank you."

Michonne paid the driver 200 Moroccan Durham, as he sat her luggage on the sidewalk in front of the resort. She lifted her duffle across her shoulder and pulled her two suitcases behind her, making her way through the lobby and toward the front desk. It was a luxurious, Grand Hotel, the décor full of vibrant colors, white pillars three stories high. A magnificent waterfall spanned the left wall, where a Moroccan band was set up in front, playing traditional musical numbers as they greeted the guests. Michonne smiled as she passed them. The sweet sound of the reed flute, along with the light beat of the tbilat, created a soothing atmosphere throughout the lobby.

There were two good looking people smiling at the front desk, one man and one woman. Michonne started for the receptionist on the right, the young Moroccan woman, no more than twenty years old, but could pass for sixteen. She greeted her in the native tongue, then translated to English. "Welcome." She smiled, as Michonne walked up.

"Michonne Miller." Michonne happily announced, dropping her bags, giving her arms a rest.

"Glad to have you Ms. Miller." The young woman started work checking her in, while Michonne took in the intricate details of the décor around her.

"Grimes." A familiar southern drawl uttered, commanding Michonne's attention from the gold crown molding. She looked over her left shoulder and standing right next to her was airline asshole, checking in with the male receptionist. You've got to be kidding me, she thought to herself. Turning her body away from him and her attention back to the young woman who was now working on coding the proper room keycard for her. Michonne willed her to move faster so she could get out of the lobby and up to her room, far away from airport prick, but the young woman seemed to be having some difficulty.

"One second, Ms. Miller. There seems to be something wrong with my computer." The woman informed her and proceeded to her male coworker that had been attending to airport jerk, to help fix the issue.

Michonne snuck a peek at the man who was standing next to her from the corner of her eye. He had an attractive profile, his nose extended out a bit, a solid chin, with a permanent pout, and the juiciest bottom lip she had ever seen. He was rocking quite a bit of scruff on his face that did well to accentuate his strong features. Feeling her gaze upon him, he looked in her direction and Michonne quickly averted her eyes away.

After fixing the issue, the receptionist returned. "Sorry about that." She apologized. Handing her a gift bag that contained a Moroccan candle and oils, she continued, "Inside is your itinerary. Your room number is 605, and the first singles mixer begins tonight at 9."

"Thank you." Michonne replied, grabbing her things, ready to get out of there as quickly as possible.

"The elevators are just down this hall on your right." She gestured. "Enjoy your stay."

Michonne gave her thanks again and made a beeline to the elevators. She pressed the call button and waited. Looking back at the front desk, she saw airline asshole receiving his keycard to his room. Tapping her brown sandal impatiently against the marble floor, she pressed the button again.

Finally the elevator doors opened for her and she stepped inside with her luggage, pressing the 6.

"Hold the door!"

That same southern accent yelling from the hall, Michonne pressed the glowing 6 with more urgency now. The doors started to close, but not before the man was able to shove his suitcase between the threshold, impeding the doors from shutting.

Rick stepped inside and gave Michonne a sharp stare. He looked at the call buttons then moved to the back of the elevator behind Michonne, out of her view.

"Guess you didn't hear me." He said when the doors shut.

"Sorry. My ears are still ringing from the incessant cries of a toddler." She returned, adjusting her bag over her shoulder.

"You know Darlin', my name was on the ticket. It's not like I stole your seat...like you stole my cab." With her back to him, Rick took the opportunity to study her figure. She had skin tight jeans on, deliciously hugging the curves of her body. She had strong shoulders, the blades prominent in the purple racerback tank she wore.

She turned to look him in the eye and the sarcasm was not lost in her voice, "Oh I'm sorry. Was your name on that too?" She rolled her eyes and faced front again.

Rick chuckled and shook his head.

The elevator doors opened and Michonne got out first, following the signs to her room. She was acutely aware that airplane jerk was following the same route behind her, though purposely hanging a few steps back. She stopped when she reached 605 and he did as well.

"You've got to be kidding me..." She mumbled under her breath as he pulled out his keycard for room 604, directly across from her.

"Well I ain't jumping for joy here either, Darlin'." Rick returned.

Michonne dipped her keycard in the slot and entered her room, closing the door strongly behind her.

She'd be much prettier if she wasn't acting like a right bitch. Rick mused to himself, now alone in the hall. He opened his door and entered his room.


The pictures on the website did not do the place justice. The room was painted a beautiful burnt orange, with an intricate mosaic of blues, oranges and golds that covered the floors and trimmed the walls. Fabric cascaded from the ceiling, hanging over the mainstay. A large King sized bed that rested dead center in the room, covered in pillows and blankets of purples, reds and golds, more than he would need most likely. Rick dropped his bags on the floor and continued to explore what would be his living quarters for the next two weeks. There was a 42" flat screen television that was mounted on the wall in front of the bed, behind the bed was an expansive arch-shaped mirror with gold trim. It was strategically placed where one could see all activities going on in the room, if all they did was care to look behind them. A mini bar by the tv, as well as an impressive sound system, the wardrobe, and a plush seating area at the end of the room capped everything off. It faced the one vast window that scaled the entire wall, allowing the natural light to pour in. A complimentary bottle of champagne sat on the coffee table chilling in an ice bucket. The bathroom was just as impressive, with a jacuzzi tub and shower, same decor throughout.

Rick sat on one of the plush cushions, popping the champagne open and pouring him a glass. He looked out the window. His view, the prodigious blue-green ocean. The coastline went on for miles with no end in sight. He sank further into the soft, comfortable seating and took a sip from his glass. "Thank you, Shane."


After relishing in the beauty of her room and unpacking her belongings, Michonne decided to take a 20 minute power nap to rest up for tonight's mixer seeing as how she got close to no sleep on the flight. When she woke up, she ordered dinner from the room service menu and showered. The massaging jets worked the kinks out in her muscles after sitting uncomfortably upright for hours on the plane. She dried herself off and skipped out on the robe, nakedly roaming freely about her room. Michonne connected her iPod to the speakers provided via bluetooth, and the angelic voice of Sade began to blare through the speakers.

Michonne made her way to the closet. Earlier she had hung up her clothes methodically, organized by color and type. It made it easier to make the best choices. She needed a good statement outfit for the first night in Morocco if she'd hoped to have any luck finding a guy tonight. She decided on a white mermaid style, beach maxi dress with a high slit design on both sides. It had a cut out design that allowed a tasteful amount of skin to show on the sides of her abdomen and a loose halter neckline, so she opted for no bra. It was Morocco after all.

She put her hair in a high ponytail, and completed her look with a pair of brown braided sandals and a gold arm cuff to match her gold stud earrings. Michonne took one final look in the mirror and grabbed her gold clutch that contained nothing but her keycard and some tictacs.

"Let's do this." She said to reflection, satisfied.

Michonne opened the door and suddenly remembered who was staying across from her. She looked through the peephole to make sure Mr. Airport Ass was not leaving his room as well because with the way it's been going, it would not have surprised her at all. When she was satisfied that the coast was clear, Michonne exited her room and headed for the beach bar to mingle with what she hoped would be a bunch of Idris Elba and Oscar Isaac doppelgangers.


Michonne had been sitting at the bar for an hour. The mixer was in full swing and she had yet to see one Idris Elba look alike. Instead everyone looked like a clone of Clint Howard in Apollo 13. She drained the last bit of her Sex on The Beach cocktail that she ordered ironically through the skinny black straw and waved the bartender back over. She would need something a bit stronger if she was going to make it through tonight. And it was only the first night.

People were already mingling together. Everyone seemingly in their natural habit as the music sounded through the speakers. Some were dancing, others were laughing, everyone seemed to already be paired up getting to know one another. Since it happened, Michonne had not been particularly good in social situations, that had always been Mike's thing.

"Can I get the strongest drink in your repertoire?" Michonne asked the bartender when he stopped in front of her, flashing his pearly whites that contrasted nicely with his bronze skin.

"Absolutely." He answered and went to work.

Michonne spun around on the stool, looking out into the beach trying to decide where she should start first when the bartender was done with her drink, or the small thought in the back of her mind, pushing her to take her drink to her room and channel surf Moroccan TV.

"2 Beers, Please."

That accent that's been plaguing her since she started this trip came from behind her. This time, Michonne elected to ignore it .

Another bartender placed two beers on the counter. Rick paused a moment and lingered. Instead of leaving with his brew, he leaned into Michonne's ear, his breath tickling her neck. "You know Darlin'," He cooed. "Maybe if you didn't look so angry someone would come over her and talk to you."

Michonne's scowl deepened. How dare he? Invading her personal space? She swung her body around the stool and faced him. "It didn't stop you, unfortunately." She replied.

Smirking he grabbed his beers off the counter. "No. It didn't."

Her eyes followed him as he strolled away from the bar. His was bowlegged, but his walk was gracefully cool, Michonne hated to admit to herself. She watched as he passed one of the beers to a pretty, petite blonde woman who was waiting for him in some denim hot pants and a floral bathing suit top. Figures that would be his type.

The bartender placed her drink on a napkin, "Be careful with that." He warned, giving her a wink. She took a sip through the straw and winced at the bold flavor as the liquid sweetly burned down her throat. She would definitely need to be careful. Michonne looked back at the airline jerk who obviously just said something charming to the woman. She was giggling like a school girl, and playfully slapping his arm. Whatever. Michonne thought, grabbing her clutch in one hand and picking up her drink in the other, she stood from the stool and smoothed out the wrinkles from her dress. She would not be going back to her room. She started making her way to the seating area around the fire pit on the sand, consciously she softened her face.


Michonne eyed an empty seat and made her way toward it when she was impeded by a rather large man.

"I was wondering when you were gonna get up from that bar." The deep voice said.

Michonne moved her eye line from his chest to his face. He was sporting a dashing smile, his white ivories glimmering against the firelight and his dimples bewitchingly highlighting his face through the salt and pepper beard.

"Hi, I'm Negan." He extended his hand for Michonne, and she obliged. "Michonne."

"Mee-chonne." He enunciated. "I like that."


Rick was engaged in conversation with Jessie, a divorced mother of two, who traveled halfway around the world to find love again. At least that is how she put it. She was only a few years younger than he, an art school dropout who got pregnant, then stayed home to take care of her children. She was the kind of girl he would go for back home, the kind of girl he grew up with and known his entire life. They were getting along well, when a streak of flowing white fabric passing the corner of his eye caught his attention. Rick turned to see who it belonged to and sure enough it was the ebony beauty from the airplane. She was twirling in the middle of the dance floor, dancing to the sounds that blared through the speakers. A burly man with a slick back do, doing his best to keep up. Jessie was talking, but Rick was transfixed on how her body swayed rhythmically with the beat. Her ponytail of locs splaying outwardly as the man spun her around the dance floor. The scowl that he was starting to believe was permanently etched on her face was completely gone now. And just as he suspected, her smile was absolutely killer.


After meeting Negan, Michonne ended up staying for the entirety of the mixer. They spent the night chatting, drinking and dancing. Her first night not a complete bust as she originally thought it would be. Most of the people had retired for the night, and after saying her goodbyes to Negan and the group of people they were hanging with, a tipsy Michonne decided to head back herself.

She made her way through the resort lobby and to the elevators, only to find Airplane Cowboy waiting there, his focus on the floor number display.

Michonne ambled to the call button and pressed it, although it was already lit. She stood next to him waiting for the smart ass remark he had for her this time. None came. They remained in silence when the elevator bell rang, indicating it's arrival.

Rick was doing everything in his power to keep his cool demeanor. All-inclusive drinks were taking their toll on him as well. He had about four beers until he graduated to the stronger Cu Bocan and he did not trust himself to even say one word, so he just leaned against the elevator wall and gazed down at his feet. Rick could smell her in the elevator with him, even as she stood all the way on the other side. She smelled of sand and jasmine, his senses may have been dulled a bit, but that he was hyper aware of.

Michonne found that she was a little annoyed that he had not acknowledged her. Instead he was just standing there, by the elevator buttons, and had yet to press their floor. She moved over to where he was standing and let out an exasperated sigh, she pressed the 6, then stepping back to her side of the elevator.

Rick raised his head and realized he forgot to press the button. He looked at Michonne to give her an apologetic smile, but screwed up his face up when noticed her scowl had returned.

1...

Michonne swept her ponytail to one side of her neck. She could feel his eyes on her and it made the temperature in the elevator feel ten degrees hotter. Why wasn't he saying anything? Maybe she should say something. Her eyes scanned everywhere in the elevator except his face in fear of what she would find there if she did.

2...

Rick noticed a bead of sweat trickle down the side of her exposed neck and he felt a stirring inside him. Her skin glistened in the golden glow of the elevator light and it made his mouth water. She was looking straight ahead and he took the opportunity to feast his eyes on her body. The dress she wore was so flattering on her that he knew it would never look good on anyone else as it did on her. Her right leg was exposed through the slit. The curve of her brown thigh peeking against the white of the dress was a splendid glory. She was a tall drink of water in the middle of the Sahara and he was dying of thirst.

3...

With her nerves betraying her, Michonne stole a peek at the man across the way. His eyes were trained on her, his face filled with a dark lust that stirred an arousal directly between her thighs, catching her off guard. The white button up shirt he wore was slightly open at the top, exposing the smallest amount of chest hair and Michonne began to wonder what it would feel like between her fingers. Biting her lip she shifted her body weight from one side to the other, causing a rich friction at her center.

4...

The way she looked at him, he was aware of the movement her thighs made as they grazed against each other. The tension affecting her as much as it was affecting him. The jeans he was wearing getting tighter due to his thrill. He leaned forward off the wall, standing straighter.

5...

She turned her body to face him, her chest heaving, the swell of her breast against the fabric of her dress calling him. The scowl gone, replaced with nervous anticipation, she watched as he came and stood in front of her. Mere inches away from her, his eyes bore into her, hers trained on his lips. She could smell the whiskey on his breath, he inhaled her scent.

6...

The bell chimed and the doors to the elevator opened. The air conditioning on the floor provided a cool deliverance from the stifled heat of the elevator. Rick backed away from her and let Michonne exit the car first. Slowly, one slender leg at a time, Michonne purposefully walked down the hall to her room. She could feel him behind her, positive his eyes were trained on her ass. She turned to give a calculated look and sure enough they were. The hunger in his eyes had her core on fire. She was positive she did not like him, his self righteous attitude, but the electricity she felt in this hallway could not be ignored.

Rick's had both hands in his jean pockets as he hung back enjoying the view that was bestowed in front of him. The curve of her round cheeks salaciously bouncing underneath the white material, Rick wondered if she was wearing a thong. The way she moved, she had to be.

Finally they reached their rooms and Rick laboriously removed his eyes from where they had been glued, letting out a frustrated sigh in the process. His erection was uncomfortably pressing against his jeans when he heard her graceful voice behind him,

"So your room, or mine?"


A/N: Ah thanks for reading! I am neither comedic or romantic, but this baby evolved from a very funny dream I had of Richonne, so I thought I would write it out for you guys. It won't be like my other stories, little angst, and I have a pretty good idea of where I want it to go, but I would love to hear your thoughts on it. This is what I was listening too while writing, watch?v=mvRQtbqLPK8 . Take a quick listen to get an idea of the sounds and the styles of the setting.

Once again, thanks for your continued support. All comments and reviews are much appreciated! Love ya'll!