moonyflesh - Tumblr blog

moonyflesh · 1 month ago

Text

kiss me when you’re sober.

negan smith x fem!reader

word count. 5.9k

summary. feelings slip to the surface and shenanigans ensue when negan’s had one too many drinks.

notes. college!roommates!au (no apocalypse), idiots in love, mentions of alcohol, silly drunken behaviour, soft!negan (no bc he’s actually so pookie wdym), fluff ‘n banter, love confessions

gif by pedrospascaled & divider by enchanthings

A heavy irritation settled in your chest, a sensation that gnawed at you with every growing moment. You briefly clenched your hands into fists over the steering wheel before releasing them, trying to keep your muscles awake, but you could still feel your body thick with the thought of sleep, the bleariness etched onto your eyes.

Darkness enveloped your surroundings, save for the glow of traffic lights and a few open windows of shophouses, along with rows of street lamps illuminating the sidewalks. The asphalt road stretched before you, the car’s headlights paving the way towards the campus. The roads were occupied with minimal activity at this ungodly hour, and the full moon gleaming above acted as your only companion throughout the drive.

You let out a grumble once more, allowing it to fill the silence of the vehicle.

The week had been particularly grueling—consecutive, hour-long lectures that drained the energy out of you as assignments only piled up one after another, contributing to the never-ending workload. Not to mention, you had started extending your shifts at work in an effort to keep up with the daily expenses, and by the time you had finished, your legs would be aching from standing all day, your head throbbing faintly from having to deal with the various personalities of customers.

So when Friday rolled around, the weight of your accumulated exhaustion had come crashing down in full force. Resolved to get a good night’s rest, you had already hit the sheets by 10PM, hoping to start the weekend with a fresh mind.

That was, until the loud vibration of your phone woke you abruptly in the middle of your sleep.

At first, you had only stirred in your bed, shifting away from the nightstand as you tried to ignore the buzzing sound. When it didn’t seem to stop, you grabbed the edges of your pillow, pressing down against your ears. The attempt was futile. The sound was incessant. Eventually, you pried open your weary eyes, a scowl etched onto your features as you begrudgingly rolled over to the other side.

You turned on the lamp, taking a brief moment to adjust to the sudden beam of light. The glaringly red numbers ‘1:12AM’ read on your digital clock. A torrent of anger rippled through your body. Who the fuck would be calling you at this hour?

Beside your clock, your phone continued to drone against the wooden surface, a bright, intrusive glow hovering over the screen. You leaned forward, squinting your eyes. The contact name read ‘Doofus’, the large letters engraved in bold. You let out an almost theatrical groan, slumping back into the bedsheets.

Negan.

You should’ve known. Who else would disrupt you from your sleep? He certainly had a gift of becoming the constant subject of your exasperation, a talent of getting on your nerves, a knack for acting like a complete nuisance of a roommate.

When you had first decided to move out of your college dorm and into a more spacious apartment off-campus, you weren’t expecting the package to come with an obnoxious, loud-mouthed, and overly flirtatious roommate who had thought of the same idea. You only shared one class with Negan, and had seen him a couple of times around campus, but it was mostly word of mouth that cemented your image of him as one of those insufferable frat boys who indulged in extravagant partying nearing the weekends.

And quite frankly, being able to see a domestic side of him—an unpublicised aspect of his character that was only displayed within the confines of your shared apartment—wasn’t even close to dispelling your judgement or changing your unimpressed view of him.

The first few months were the worst. Dishes would pile up in the sink, and heaps of dirty clothes failed to be loaded in the washing machine by the end of the day. You had chewed him out over and over again for not following the chore chart you had created and stuck to the fridge, but he always had the same lame excuse lying around, that it simply “slipped his mind”, but you knew he was just too caught up playing video games with Simon.

There were also the occasional dates he would bring over to spend the night with, which you wouldn’t have minded if your walls weren’t so thin, and if he would just give you a quick heads-up beforehand. It wasn’t a pretty sight stumbling upon a complete stranger using your shower in the morning. And in response to your rightful complaint over the lack of a restful night, he’d only reply with that infuriating smirk of his—

“Can’t help it. Ladies love screaming my name.”

But you supposed these days his presence had grown slightly more tolerable. His intrusive guests were noticeably less frequent, and six out of ten times he would stick to his end of household duties. He still had that annoying habit of drinking straight from the juice carton, though. And despite his irreverent and childish sense of humour, you couldn’t help but find yourself a little amused sometimes, your small conversations enough to elicit a sound somewhere in between a scoff and a short chuckle.

But at this moment, the sentiments you held towards your roommate were completely negative. You didn’t understand why he had to be calling you at this hour, and disturb your precious sleep at that. You knew Negan was always out late on Fridays, but he’d never call while he was attending one of his parties.

A faint spark of curiosity swirled in your irritated mind. With your body still attached to your bed, you extended your arm, grabbing the phone in one sharp, resentful movement.

“What?”

Your tone was clipped. Dryness etched onto the back of your throat.

On the other side of the call, a familiar, aggravating voice instantly prickled your skin. “Heeeey,” Negan drawled. There was a thick, raspy quality to his voice, more prominent than usual. Alcohol’s doing. “Took you long enough.”

Your words came out emphatic and impatient. “What do you want?”

“Can you…” Loud beats of music pulsed in your ear, drowning out his speech entirely. “Pick—”

You begrudgingly sat up, letting out a sharp exhale. “I can’t hear you, dumbass.”

“...Sorry, one sec.”

You huffed out a sigh of exasperation. Your head fell against the bed board, allowing your gaze to wander nowhere in particular around your dimly-lit room. There was a scuffle of movement. You heard his breathing grow ragged, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps against stairs and the loud click of a door. The music became muffled in the background. Then, after what felt like an eternity, his drunken voice stirred once more, his words sounding almost child-like.

“Listen—can you, um, pick me up?”

His request sent a jolt of anger through your body. If you weren’t so weighed down by exhaustion, you might’ve even shot fully awake. Why on earth would you crawl out of bed at this hour just to fetch him? It wasn’t like he hadn’t come home from parties on his own before. The way back to your apartment was still within a walkable distance. Plus, he had said it himself—he could hold his liquor. Or at least, he managed to get into his own bed.

There were a few occasions where you had caught a glimpse of his return, when you were slouched over the coffee table, burning the midnight oil to catch up on your assignments. You’d hear the loud fumble of keys, lasting longer than a beat. The door would push open with more force than necessary. Then, he’d shoot you a heavy-eyed grin, steps slow and unfocused as he stumbled towards his room.

You couldn’t be bothered to wonder why this time was any different.

“No. Walk home yourself. Or call an Uber.”

A snort came through the phone. “Nah—’s past midnight. Prices are fuckin’ stingy.”

“Not my problem,” you retorted, raising your voice to the microphone. “Bye.”

“Wait, don’t—” An edge of panic rushed to his voice. You clicked your tongue, pausing before your thumb could land on the button. Negan whinged through his words, sounding almost comical. “Look—I really don’t want to walk. I can’t. Just drive me back, alright?”

Your tone sharpened immediately. “No. I’m sleeping.”

There was a tinge of disbelief. “Pfft. You sleepin’ that early?”

You rolled your eyes, the teasing edge of his voice only aggravating you further. “I’m fucking tired, Negan. I’m not driving you back.”

“Oh, c’mon,” he slurred. “I’ll make it up to you. Promise. Do whatever y’want.”

You huffed out a dry laugh. “Yeah, right. You won’t even remember having this conversation.” The thought made you pull your eyebrows together. You dragged a hand down your face, slipping out a question. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Well, a lot—I dunno.” Negan chuckled, as if he was found guilty of something.

You only grumbled in response, imperceptible to his ears.

Then, his voice suddenly picked up energy, like the gears of his head were turning despite the intoxication muddling his state. “Actually—the guys spent some sweet cash on booze, ‘n we got this new beer pong table. It’s fuckin’ awesome. ‘S not too late, y’know. Maybe you wanna come over and—”

You cut through his words, curt and irritated. “Don’t want to. G’night.”

And so the call ended just like that. You plopped your phone onto the mattress, quickly turning off the lamp and sinking into the bedsheets. Your cashmere blanket snugly enveloped your body as you settled back into the darkness, allowing your mind to quieten down to the low hum of the air conditioning.

Except your mind wouldn’t quieten down. Easing yourself back to sleep would require some great effort. You simply couldn’t find yourself able to relax, not when a certain someone had so effortlessly worn your patience thin within a span of minutes. You let out a frustrated groan.

You truly didn’t care about the usual debauchery Negan got himself into. You didn’t want to hear about his antics, and you certainly didn’t want to participate in them. The last thing you needed were distractions.

He’d be fine on his own, right?

And yet, something uneasy crept up your skin. It wasn’t outright discomfort or the strongest strong sense of concern—just a dull, misplaced feeling of unease. But it latched onto your thoughts, and with each moment that passed by slowly, your mind still refusing to succumb to sleep despite your exhaustion, the feeling wouldn’t budge. So you weighed your options.

If something did end up happening to him, who would you split the rent with?

And before you knew it, you were throwing yourself out of bed, slipping out of your sleepwear and into a plain set of clothes, too tired to fully bother about your messy appearance. You grabbed your car keys and stepped out of the apartment.

Which led you to where you were currently, rounding a corner to the frat house.

Even from a distance, a bass pulsed through your ears, permeating the quiet of the night and killing off the much-appreciated silence in your car. The music only grew louder as you rolled to a stop in front of the house, drowning out the shut of the vehicle door as you stepped onto the sidewalk.

You frowned. The building was two-storeys high, large enough to house a few groups of people. You always wondered why Negan couldn’t just live here instead, seeing as he so frequently partook in whatever went on in the place.

A bunch of plastic red cups were haphazardly discarded on the grass. You passed by a few party attendees as you neared the house, some chatting idly among their own circles, while others had their arms slung around one another, stumbling along the pavement with a clumsy gait.

As you approached the porch, neon lights rotated and flashed through the front windows, creating silhouettes that danced on the inner walls. A set of Greek letters stuck above the door, as if only meant to be decrypted by those in the fraternity, though you swore nobody in the house was currently upholding the virtuous motto.

The door appeared unlocked, the cacophony of noise and raging lights all threatening to spill over the tiny gap. You took in a slow, controlled breath, trying to calm the ever-growing impatience that hovered over you like a cloud. Then, your grip tightened around the knob, and you let yourself in.

The overwhelming stench of alcohol and musk assaulted your senses almost immediately, making your nose twitch in repulsion and sending you wide awake. The air felt humid and sticky, the cool breeze that endowed the night suddenly replaced by a thick heat that pressed against your body. You nearly wanted to recoil.

As your eyes were left with no choice but to adjust to the dim corridors, you peered into the nearest room, where a mass was gathered. Bodies pressed against bodies as music blasted in your ears, punctuated by the sound of raucous, drunken cheers.

Your jaw ticked. This was a mistake. Maybe you should’ve just stayed in bed. It was infinitely far better than searching for your troublesome roommate at one in the morning, in a foreign house that stank of sweat and liquor. How the hell were you going to find Negan in all these rooms full of people?

“Woah! Look who decided to join the party.”

Definitely a mistake.

You could barely register the sound of his voice over the speakers, but it was distinct enough to make you scowl instantly. You turned behind, pushing away from the door frame only to meet Simon’s wide grin, although the rest of his features were a blur under the strobing lights. He had his arms opened wide, as if in some grand, dramatic gesture, and his drink sloshed in his cup.

“Did mention it was invite only, though,” he added as an afterthought, though it was loud enough for you to hear. “I guess no one’s keepin’ track anymore. But hey—there’s plenty of room for everyone.”

You exhaled sharply through your nose, folding your arms across your chest. You raised your voice in an attempt to be heard over the music. “I’m not here for your stupid party, Si. Where’s Negan?”

“Ah,” he simply said, casually indifferent to your impatience practically shooting through the roof. He whipped his head back to glance at the room behind, the same revelling scene raging across. His hand moved to scratch the back of his neck. “Well, um—dunno, actually. Got myself a refill, then I came back and just couldn’t find him at all.”

There was a sharp click of your tongue as your gaze darted to the corridors.

Then, his eyebrows raised almost suggestively, and a sudden lilt came forth in his voice. “Why you askin’? What’s the cause for concern?”

“He called me to pick him up,” you stated matter-of-factly, not in the mood to entertain his perpetual habit of teasing. An accusatory tone sliced through the humid air. “You should’ve known better than to leave him on his own. He sounded wasted as fuck.”

Simon only scoffed, raising his hands in defense. “The man can drink as much as he wants. What am I, his mother or somethin’?”

You bit through your words. “No, you’re his best friend.”

He snorted in response, a gleam of amusement in his eyes as the next words rolled from his tongue. “And who are you supposed to be, his girlfriend?”

You glared at the audacity. “You—”

“Chill out, I’m kidding!” He chuckled, reaching to pat the side of your arm, oblivious to the way it made your body tense up all the more. “Though it’s real cute how much you pretend not to care ‘bout him.”

You only scoffed, as if it suddenly seemed more exhausting to fight against Simon’s words than to just let them hang indignantly in the air. Don’t get yourself wrong, though—the notion was ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. Even if a tiny, misplaced, meaningless fraction of concern you had for your roommate somehow managed to get you to where you were.

Tiredness seeped through your voice instead. “Just help me find him, alright?”

“Sure,” Simon replied, returning you a lazy smile. “But let’s get you a drink first. You look like you’re in desperate need of some booze.”

“No th—”

You couldn’t even reply in full before his arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you flush against the side of his body as he dragged you into the room he had come from. Your protests fell on deaf ears, muted by the jarring party beat. You squeezed past the crowd, trying to endure the stench punching through the air as the strobing lights seared your vision.

The music dampened as Simon led you to the kitchen, and you were at least relieved to see fewer people crowding around, all talking amongst themselves. The kitchen was incongruously well-lit, almost unsuspecting unlike the rest of the party scene. You pushed away from Simon’s hold, swatting him in the shoulder before he moved around the kitchen island.

He motioned to a row of alcoholic beverages strewn across the counter, shooting you a grin. “So, what’cha fancy? Whiskey? Rum? Vodka?”

“Aspirin,” you muttered under your breath, feeling a headache brewing in the back of your head if you stayed in the house any longer. You began to speak, “Simon, I don’t have time for this. Can you please—”

Without warning, a pair of strong arms wrapped around your shoulders. Your balance nearly faltered as your back was suddenly pulled against a toned chest. A warmth enveloped you from behind, but it wasn’t the same, intrusive, discomforting body heat that pervaded the air—in fact, it felt almost tolerable. Then, just for a mere second, a set of soft lips pressed against your cheek. Your entire body froze in an instant.

Shit, did he just—

“You came,” Negan slurred, settling himself into the unsolicited embrace, as if you had wordlessly agreed upon this newfound intimacy. His throaty chuckle sent a vibration down your spine. “Oh, I knew y’would.”

You flinched away when you felt his hot breath ghost over the side of your neck, tickling your collarbone. His back immediately found the counter as he leaned on his elbows for support, his head slack on his shoulders. You took a good look at Negan under the steady light. His skin was flushed, the alcohol tinting his cheeks a bright red, and his dark curls were more disheveled than usual. He sported a stupid, close-eyed grin, like he was caught in the middle of a dreamlike state.

You uttered the first two words that came to your mind. “You idiot.”

Something aggravated you just seeing him this disoriented and blur. You moved closer, jabbing a finger at the centre of his chest. “This is gonna cost you laundry duty for the next two weeks.”

Negan peeked his eyes open then. “No,” he murmured, eyebrows pulling together as he dragged a hand over his mouth. “Are you fuckin’ for real? That’s bullshit.” He glanced over the counter, hastily reaching to grab an unattended red Solo cup.

“Enough of that—” You yanked the cup away before he could tilt it to his lips. The contents nearly spilled over as you propped the cup back down hard on the counter. “You said you’d do whatever I want.”

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards. “Yeah, but I was thinkin’ more of—“

“Doesn’t matter what you think,” you dismissed, letting out a sharp exhale as your words cut through the air like a whip. “Look—we’ll talk about this in the morning. Let’s just go.”

“But y’came all this way. At least stay for a drink.”

“I came all this way to pick your ass up. As requested. Now c’mon.”

Itching to get out of the house, you turned on your heel, moving across the room in quick, measured strides. Unfortunately, you hadn’t made it past the door frame before you got a sense that Negan wasn’t trailing behind, making you stop in your tracks. You looked back, only to find that he had remained stationary in his spot, a hand hovering over his forehead as he rubbed at his temples.

You crossed your arms, features settling into a deadpan expression while your voice carried a mock intonation, as if you already knew the answer to your own question. “Can you walk?”

Negan squeezed his eyes shut. “Yeah. Maybe. Hang on, I just—might need a moment.”

You sighed in resignation, shifting on your feet. Tapping a finger along the side of your arm, you waited for him to get a hold of his balance. Progress seemed to be moving impossibly slow. Then, your gaze drifted to the corners of the kitchen, not missing the fact that Simon had been lingering near the cabinets, like he had been quietly watching a spectacle unfold all along.

He took a long, purposeful sip of his drink, returning your gaze as his eyes glinted with amusement over the rim of his cup. After what felt like forever, he set his drink down, the familiar, teasing edge of his voice carrying across the room. “You lovebirds in a rush to leave so soon?”

You only frowned. “Just help me get him to the car.”

Things moved by in an uneventful fashion, mostly because you wanted it to. You went through the motions, walking ahead of the both of them as you manoeuvred past the noisy partygoers once more, before stepping out of the house, finally managing to get a breath of fresh air. Your mind was only focused on one task—getting home. Once Negan was propped in the front passenger seat, you quickly said your goodbyes to Simon, though you appreciated his effort of having to practically drag Negan to the car. You drove off the campus in silence, letting only the steady hum of the engine softly roar through the vehicle.

Traffic lights haloed the night as you drove onto the main road, street lamps bathing the town buildings in a dim, yellow glow. When you came to a stop at a traffic junction, you glanced to the side, where Negan was slumped in his seat. The quiet had lulled him, and the slight drop of his head denoted he was dozing off already.

You rather appreciated moments like these where your roommate wasn’t running his mouth, which were incredibly rare, but unfortunately you’d be in for a tougher time in the next five minutes once you reached your apartment.

You broke the silence, your voice sharp and unavoidable. “I swear I’ll leave you in the car until morning if you fall asleep.”

That managed to stir him then, and he shifted in his position, rubbing the weariness out of his eyes. He took a long moment before responding, his voice thick and rough. “You fuckin’ wouldn’t.”

”Oh, I would,” you challenged, not missing a beat.

You heard him huff out a short laugh. The traffic light flicked to green, prompting your gaze back onto the road as you drove on. When another round of silence followed, you didn’t need to throw another glance to know that Negan’s eyes were still on you, the feeling persisting even through the nearly pitch-black confines of your car. His gaze was steady and intent, though you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Something unfamiliar shifted in your chest.

Then, his hand moved over to the dash stereo.

“If you like piña coladas,

and gettin’ caught in the rain…”

Just as fast as he had turned on the radio, you switched it back off, abruptly severing the classic tune of Rupert Holmes. Yacht rock was not exactly the defining genre for the current mood. You clicked your tongue, shooting Negan an irritated look. “Don’t touch that.”

“Why not?”

“Just don’t.”

He gave you a blank expression. “Car’s mine s’much as it’s yours.” And with that, he turned the radio back on.

“If you like making love at midnight…”

Your hand flew to shut off the music again, bringing it to a swift and forceful end. “Quit it,” you snapped, words biting through the cool air.

Negan let out an exaggerated sigh. “How the hell am I supposed to stay awake, then?”

With your eyes still fixed on the road, you reached for the glove compartment, pulling out a small box of breath mints and handing it to him. “Here. Take one.”

“What for?”

“Just take one,” you insisted curtly. Negan took the box, and you brought your hand back to the steering wheel. “Should help you stay awake ‘til we get back. Plus, you’re stinking up the whole car.”

He snorted in response, amusement laced beneath his voice as he popped a mint into his mouth. “That bad?”

“Oh, yeah,” you replied. He did reek of alcohol—you had caught a strong whiff of it during the embrace, the way his breath mingled with the smell of flat beer. But with an air of exaggeration, you couldn’t help but add, “You’d need a whole bar of soap in your mouth, but this’ll have to do.”

Negan let out a chuckle then, and eventually you followed after. Your eyes flickered to him, noticing the way the ribbon of street lights caught onto the edges of his features, the way his eyes crinkled and the dimples appeared in his cheeks. It sent a strange flutter in your stomach, making you look away within seconds.

There was a short pause before you heard him speak again. “Y’know, you’re real fun to be with. Dunno why you act like y’not half the time.”

That made you furrow your eyebrows. “Well, I’m sorry,” you replied, tone thick with sarcasm. “Maybe you’re fine with living in a dumpster truck, but I’m not. It’s a shared space, Negan.”

You heard him scoff, though his voice was noticeably softer. “I do my part.”

“You do the bare minimum. Which you think is fine, considering your standards.”

As the car turned into a corner, the apartment building came into view. You took his silence as room to continue. “You know, if you’re so bogged down by responsibilities, why don’t you just live at the frat house instead? I mean, you can party as much as you want, drink as much as you want, hook up with whoever you—”

“Nah. ‘S nice livin’ with you.” Negan allowed his body to fall back limply against his seat, his head tilting towards you as a small grin formed on his lips. “…I really like livin’ with you. Even when you get mad sometimes.”

For a moment, the words were caught in your throat. The mood suddenly seemed to soften, but something wasn’t allowing you to return his gaze. Your thumbs twitched restlessly over the steering wheel as you entered the parking lot.

“…Thanks,” you eventually managed to say. The word hung awkwardly in the air. Your voice grew quiet, low enough to be interpreted as an afterthought. “I guess you’re not as bad as you were months ago.”

You let Negan trail behind you quietly, glancing back every so often to make sure he hadn’t tripped on his own feet. He mostly clinged to the handrails as he trudged up the front steps, a shoulder wedged against the walls as he walked along the hallways and stepped into the lift. His pace was excruciatingly slow, and yet, your impatience that had been running throughout the night had somehow disappeared. Or maybe you had grown too tired to care. You didn’t dwell too much on the matter.

Eventually, you both reached the apartment door, the smooth click of your key welcoming you home into the quiet space of your living room. The area had been somewhat cluttered for weeks, since you had been too busy to tidy up properly—books and whatnot strewn across the coffee table, jackets draped over the armchairs, pillows rumpled on the small couch—to the point where it almost had a cozy feel, and the slight mess had become a normalised sight.

“Go change. Get some sleep,” you ordered, mechanically moving towards the kitchen. A low hum of acknowledgement followed from behind, along with a heavy pad of footsteps as Negan retreated to his room.

You took a jug of water, pouring it into a glass. Reaching for the cabinets, you fished out a small box of painkillers. Then, with both items in hand, you made your way towards his room, pushing open the door with your elbow.

The dim glow of the bedside lamp barely outlined his figure. Negan stood beside the closet, his head cast downwards, eyebrows drawn together as he fumbled with the buttons of his shirt.

He looked up when you entered, exasperation flickering across his features. “Can’t get this damn thing to—” He sighed wearily, his brown eyes looking at you almost expectantly.

Your lips pressed into a thin line, shooting him an unimpressed look. But you moved without a second thought, setting down the glass and painkillers on the nightstand before closing the distance from where he stood. Your hands latched onto the two small buttons, the gentle tug pulling him slightly forward as your nimble fingers made quick work of unfastening them.

You couldn’t help but notice it again. The way he’s just staring at you. It didn’t help that your faces were merely inches apart. That same, strange feeling stirred in your chest. You swallowed, deliberately training your eyes on the buttons.

You remembered that very first night, when you had made it crystal clear you weren’t interested in him at all. It didn’t stop Negan from throwing playful innuendos every now and then, but he never once overstepped your boundaries, and you figured all the flirting was just part of his nature. So you brushed it off without much thought.

But nothing had suddenly made you question everything until now, under the weight of his steady gaze. No crude remarks, no sensual touches—just a simple, intense look in the eyes. You could question what happened earlier at the house, but that had been nothing more than a drunken embrace. Actually, maybe the alcohol was to blame for everything. Of course, what else would it be?

Shaking the thoughts out in your head, you removed your hands when you realised they had been hovering over the opened buttons for a little too long.

You pulled away momentarily, reaching for the white t-shirt he had thrown onto his messy bed, handing it to him. “Here,” you said, your voice suddenly reduced to a soft whisper.

You caught the way his throat bobbed, but he neither responded nor moved. You thrusted the shirt into his chest, but when he still didn’t take it, you narrowed your eyes, giving him a slight look of confusion. “Negan? You alr—”

It was as if time stopped registering. It barely processed with the way it happened so fast. Your cheeks were held in the crevice of his hands, sending a warmth that instantly tingled your skin. Then, his mouth pressed against yours. Your eyes automatically shut, and your fingers involuntarily released hold of the white t-shirt when a pool of lightness rushed to your head.

The kiss was soft, and his lips parted against yours gently. Something in you didn’t want to pull away from his touch. You wanted to remain. And before you knew it, you were kissing him back.

But it only lasted for a few seconds—when his tongue brushed over the seam of your lips, throwing you back into reality. The taste of mint and alcohol made for a distasteful combination. Your mouth drew back from the kiss. You forced your eyes open.

“You—” Your resolve was weak against the tenderness of his palms still cupping your cheeks. “You dumbass,” you blurted softly, slightly furrowing your eyebrows. “You’re drunk.”

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you,” Negan only slurred, his half-lidded eyes still staring down at your lips. “None.”

You freeze, unsure of how to respond to the alcohol talking.

“D’you want me?” he continued, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours, noses nudging against each other. A breathy whisper feathered over your jaw. “Like I want you?”

“I…” Your voice grew thick, as if the words were becoming stuck. A dry laugh escaped from your throat. “Negan, you don’t know what you’re saying. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

As if you knew what you were doing either. You had just kissed your roommate back, for goodness sake. The same roommate who was a thorn in your side, who annoyed you to no end.

“Course I fuckin’ do,” he replied quietly, searching your eyes. His thumbs glided back and forth over your cheekbones. “I want you. I always have.”

The words sent a pang in your heart, and you wondered if he was consciously making his voice low and rough, despite knowing how wasted he was. That would explain why your knees had suddenly become weak.

Still, the skepticism was evident in your tone. “You act like this with all the girls you bring back?” you tried to joke, your voice wavering, though you didn't realise the slight resentment attached to your words until it was said out loud.

You were surprised with how Negan caught onto it almost immediately. “They… they don’t matter.” His eyes bore into yours, a sincerity etched to his words. “Darlin’, I swear—’s only ever been you. M’sorry if I hurt you like that.”

You made a light attempt to scoff. “I’m not hurt—”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“You are. ‘S written all over your pretty face.” The corners of his lips twitched upwards, before they fell after a beat. “But ‘m serious, I—”

“Look—” You reached for his wrists, gently guiding his hands away from your cheeks and letting them fall to your sides. “You should sleep it off, really,” you said, motioning your head to the nightstand. “Take the painkillers when you wake up.”

“But I…” His fingers loosely curled around yours, as if not wanting to let go of you just yet. “I need to know. If you feel what I feel.”

“Like you’ll even remember,” you murmured in response, scrunching your eyebrows. Then, you let out a soft sigh. “I’ll… tell you in the morning if you do, alright?”

You saw him give a slight nod, as he slowly released your hand, though you could tell he wasn’t satisfied with your answer.

It was simple, really—he was drunk. He wasn’t thinking straight. Not that he really ever has.

A thick silence stretched between you two, until you realised all else had been said, or at least the things you weren’t afraid to address. You eventually exchanged a soft ‘good night’, barely managing to say the words before you promptly left his room.

Truth was, you didn’t have a concrete answer. Or maybe you just didn’t want to answer it—knowing that you nearly melted into a puddle under his touch, and that you didn’t pull away the moment he kissed you. You didn’t think he would even remember the bulk of your conversation. Yet, a small part of you wanted him to remember. A small part of you wanted him to kiss you once he was sober.

And as you crawled back into the comfort of your own bed, the thought of him continued to leave you awake all night, much to your dismay. You knew Negan would never cease to infuriate you, disturbing your sleep at that, but something had definitely changed.

notes. i personally had sm fun writing this, so i hope this translates to something a little enjoyable for you! my academic year started mid-april so i sadly have less time on my hands to write, but i’m always up for writing soft and silly scenarios for negan bc i think he deserves more fluff, canon/au’s whichever 💓 thank you for reading as always!

#coolest mutual ever #negan smith x reader #negan x reader #the walking dead #crying screaming throwing up #i need him so bad #don’t let my boyfriend see this #negan smith #jeffrey dean morgan #negan #twd fanfiction #twd negan

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moonyflesh · 2 months ago

Text

guys go support my bsf he’s such a good writer 😋😋

~𝒯𝑜 𝒮𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒮𝑜𝓊𝓁~

Anakin Skywalker x Female reader

Warning: ANGST, possible reader death (foretold in nightmare), angry Anakin, slight gaslighting, yelling, unhappy ending, this is heartbreaking

Authors note: I have returned! I know I say this in all of my fics but I want to try and write more regularly. I just got back into my Star Wars obsession so enjoy this. Yes I did find the Revenge of the Sith script online to get scene dialogue accurate, you’re welcome🤭

Word Count: 2.9K

He knelt so easily before the emperor, the submission of power coming to him like second nature. When it came to protecting you, it was like second nature.

You had been his light when the darkness seemed to pull him a bit too close. Those nights he was scared to sleep turned into soft laughs and whispered promises despite those persistent nightmares. Though his latest nightmare tugged at him like an insistent child.

He had seen it so clearly, you on the ground, slain by a saber. The look in your eyes was fear, that look now plastered forever in death. He knew his dreams could become reality and this one he had to heed the warning of, that much was clear. At first he had shoved it off as just another nightmare, his mind trying to stray his focus from his training. Sure, the Jedi Council had decided to not make him a Master and that irked him but he knew he’d get the position someday by continuing to grow in his skill and maturity. When that same nightmare kept coming every night, that image of your frozen, fearful face imprinted in his mind, he knew he had to make sure it never became reality, training be damned.

That’s what led him here, kneeling before Emperor Palpatine, begging to be taught the ways of the Sith to save your life from that dreaded nightmare. Never had he thought he’d want to learn these skills, not until your life came into play. He had to save you, no matter by what bounds that meant.

“Please… just help me save her life.”

His voice broke as tears welled up, his eyes bloodshot from those sleepless nights. He was desperate, his voice a whimper as his bottom lip wobbled. He knew this went against every oath he had ever taken, every promise he had ever made, except one.

I promise I will protect you, no one can hurt you now.

He remembers telling you that after there was an attack on your life a few months ago. It was the only promise that truly mattered to him now.

“I can’t live without her. I won’t let her die. I want the power to stop death.”

He felt weak, like he couldn’t move. He couldn’t move until he knew he could save you, Palpatine was his only hope to do so.

“To cheat death is a power only one has achieved, but if we work together, I know we can discover the secret.”

Palpatine’s voice was brittle, cracking like glass through the air. The broken window behind him blew his cape around him, only adding to the power he held. Anakin’s eyes lifted to meet the Emperor’s, pure desperation pouring from his gaze.

“I pledge myself to your teachings. To the ways of the Sith.”

The words fell from his lips like a plea, a prayer he had no idea how it would even be answered. He would turn to the dark side if it meant seeing your smile for the rest of his days. That smile he longed to come home to. The way your eyes glowed like Mustafar, a planet he had visited only once but he saw its beauty when no one else did. In a way, you had much in common with the planet. Your passion for justice burned like fire and you were always determined no matter what, not afraid to burn bridges when destruction was necessary.

“Good. Good. The Force is strong with you. A powerful Sith you will become. Henceforth, you shall be known as Darth…Vader.”

Palpatine’s voice crashed into his ears, the weight of his decision hitting him quickly. Had he really just done this? Pledged his life to the Sith? He was becoming the one thing he had sworn to destroy. This doubt and weight quickly dissipated when that fearful look on your face flashed in his mind. He couldn’t let that be his reality. A life without you was no life at all whether it was living for the dark or light.

Anakin looks up, his eyes burning with a new determination. He looked his new master in the eyes, power flowing through his veins. Every second you were apart was like torture for him, he needed to get back to you.

“Thank you, my Master.”

“Rise, Lord Vader.”

His master’s voice booms in the room, forcing Anakin to his feet with its power. He bows to Palpatine who nods to him with a small smirk. Upon his dismissal, Anakin turns on his heels, his feet heavy in the room as the doors open for him. He exits, his footsteps echoing in the large hall, the marble trembling from his new determination.

The great hall soon turned into secured sections and not quickly enough, senators chambers. He approached the door to the room you two shared and swung it open. He watched you as you sat on the curved sofa in the living room, your gaze going from the view outside to him. He watched your eyes widen and you shoot up, registering that it was him. You rush into his open arms and he embraces you, his hands feeling the soft silk that adorned your back. He buried his nose into your hair, inhaling your sweet scent. Alive. You were alive.

"Ani, what are you doing here? I thought you wouldn't be home for another hour?"

You question, the surprise in your voice making a smile creep onto his lips. He freezes for a moment, trying to find a response.

"I snuck out during recess. I didn't want to sit there for another boring hour when I knew you were here waiting for me."

It was technically the truth. He had snuck out of a council meeting in order to go talk to Palpatine which in turn brought him home to you an hour early.

He watched as you playfully rolled your eyes at him and lent up to place your lips on his. Every fear and anxiety he had felt the past few days seemed to melt away as he kissed you back. You felt his hands fist into the silk of your slip gown and you could feel his intensity grow. It was like him to deepen actions but this felt different. Something was wrong but you couldn't quite put your finger on it. You felt him pick you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he took the both of you back to the sofa. He sat down with you in his lap and you tried to shimmy to the side, only for his hands on your waist to tighten.

"Don't go running away from me now."

He said in that playful tone that always made your chest heat up. No matter how much time you spent together, he could still so easily fluster you with a few simple words. You were truly connected to him.

"I'm not running away, I just thought you'd want to sit and enjoy the view since you haven't been home all day."

You say with a soft smile, watching his lips curl into a soft smirk. Your weight in his lap seemed to ground him.

"Why would I want to look out there when what I have wanted all day is to look at you?"

He asks, his head tilting slightly. You could feel your blush rising up your neck and into your cheeks. You knew he saw it because his gaze dropped to your collarbones and followed the blush all the way until his eyes met yours again. He had that cocky smirk on his lips and that playful glint in his eyes, he knew exactly what he was doing.

That cocky expression soon faded and he found himself getting lost in thought. His chest felt tight, the realization of his choices hitting him like an X-Wing in hyperspeed. He didn't exactly regret his choices, more so mourning the decisions that would come with it. You would ask questions. He knew he couldn't tell you the truth. Everyday you fought in the senate to take down Palpatine and the Sith. He had just sworn an oath to the very group you swore to destroy. Would you ever understand? If he had the time and words to explain, would you find his actions stupid or romantic? He was trying to save your life after all. Though, knowing you, you'd rather die than watch him become what you hate.

"Ani, what's wrong?"

Please don't ask me questions, I can't lie to you.

His thoughts came to a halt as you spoke, his eyes sorrowful before he steeled his expression, plastering a smile on his face.

"Nothing. I was just remembering the meeting."

It wasn't a lie, he was thinking about his meeting with Palpatine and the choices he made. He hoped you would just let it go but he also knew you would worry for him.

"Something else is going on, what is it?"

You ask him, your head tilting a bit as your hand comes up to rest on his cheek. He lent into your touch for a moment. He had to give you something, make sure you didn't continue to dig for more.

"I've been having this same nightmare..."

He trails off, his voice barely above a whisper. The image of your fearful face flashes in his mind again, making him visibly pull away. That could not be his reality. He opened his eyes again to see you staring at him with deeper concern, waiting for him to continue.

"You... die in it. I can't let that happen."

He states hesitantly but firmly, his face now flooded in despair. His emotions were always so quick to change and you knew how to handle it but this time, you had never seen him so scared. You set your hands in your lap, him having moved away from your touch when he winced.

"Those are just nightmares, I am alive and well. You can't let them cons-"

"No! NO! They are not just nightmares and I will not let you die! We will save you. We have to!"

He interrupts you in a frantic ramble, overcome by the frustration of this nightmare. It had plagued him for weeks and he lived every second scared of it becoming reality. That was the thing he hated most about his nightmares, they never gave him a timeline. His frustration had boiled over, unable to live with this nightmare by himself anymore. It was real and he refused to believe it wasn't. His raised voice makes you jump to your feet, practically scrambling out of his lap. You take a few steps back, the initial shock of hearing his voice reach that volume starts to settle in. He never yelled at you or around you, it was something he made a point not to do. Your hands subconsciously grip at the sides of your gown, his words setting in.

"We? Who is we?"

He was hiding something and you knew it. He had just showed his hand and you were never one to let it go.

"Why does it even matter? I am trying to save you from a hell I have lived every night for weeks!"

His voice was still raised and he stood from the couch making you step back. You had never seen him like this before. It was like he was angry but his anger wasn't exactly placed so it was getting let out on everything.

"It matters because I need to know who you are plotting with and what is even being plotted! I don't like secrets, Ani. Why didn't you talk to me about this? I could have helped you!"

You stood your ground, not letting his current state intimidate you. When he got angry in general, that was the one way for him to truly understand his own feelings and how he was expressing them. He got closer to you, his hand reaching out to gently grasp your upper arm. His actions were a stark contrast to his harsh tone and if anything, that worried you more.

"You can't help me, not anymore."

His voice grew dark, his eyes getting shadowed by something else. Determination and sorrow flooded his gaze, making a chill run down your spine. What had he done?

"Anakin, what did you do?"

The use of his first name made his back straighten. You two quickly took to nicknames when you first got together. You only used his first name when things grew serious.

"I can't tell you, you'll hate me."

His voice was pained, his anger now focused on himself. He should have never let himself fall so deep into this obsession. He shouldn't have let himself focus on this nightmare. Maybe he shouldn't have even let himself focus on you.

"So you'd rather our relationship be built on secrets?"

Your voice cracked when you asked, your mind racing. Had he hurt someone or himself? What could he have done that would be this bad to the point he's convinced you'd hate him? He was truly ready to live like this all because of something he had done.

"I can't tell you."

His voice is quieter now, holding a firm tone that matched his grip tightening on your arm. You looked up at him with tears in your eyes. Was he really willing to to put your relationship in jeopardy all because he couldn't tell you this?

"I can't live without you. I had no other choice."

His voice breaks and you can see the tears and guilt in his eyes. You hesitantly reach your hand up, caressing his cheek. A tear slides down, matching your own. You had never seen him so distraught yet so set in his ways. He had always been stubborn but this was different, he was keeping something from you.

"Please, you can tell me. I need you to tell me."

The man who loved you with everything he had was harboring something so important from you and you couldn't even begin to understand why. Did he not trust you? You watch as your plea seems to weaken his resolve, his mind racing as he tries to figure out what to say.

"You can't harbor this by yourself. If my life has been put into someone else's hands but your own, I need to know. Please-"

Your voice cracks, a sob threatening to bubble up as worry floods you like a tidal wave you could have never been prepared for. He was destroying himself and you had no chance to stop it. You watch as he swallows hard, guilt riddling him as the true realization of his actions sets in.

"The Sith have a way of protecting someone from death..."

That was all you needed to hear, a sob wracking your body. You step out of his grasp, stumbling back until your pressed against a small vanity, your hand gripping the edge of it. He stayed where he was, his head bowed in guilt. Your hand clamps over your mouth, trying to stifle your sobs. He had chosen a path you couldn't follow, swearing his life to something you fought against everyday. He takes a step forward and you put your hand up, stopping him.

"Don't. Don't... I can't believe what I'm hearing."

You sob out, your vision clouded with tears. Your heart was breaking in two, this being the ultimate betrayal. You didn't even know what else to say, trying to process the weight of his words. He hadn't even fully said it but you knew the implications.

"It was the Chancellor, wasn't it? He can't save you Anakin and he sure as hell can't save me!"

Your voice rose into a shout as your sobs continue, your body shaking so bad that you were sure you'd fall over if you let go of the vanity. His expression darkens at the mention of the Chancellor, his anger reemerging.

"Don't you dare speak illy of him, he is giving me the power to save your life!"

His voice came in another shout but he didn't step closer. Your sobs continue, the realization of this all being way too much to bare. He was already more loyal to Palpatine than he was to you.

"Anakin, I'll never stop loving you but you have chosen a path that I can't follow."

Your heart shatters, this betrayal happening too quickly. His anger had mounted and he just stares at you, his eyes dark. You couldn't tell if it was sorrow in his eyes, your vision too fuzzy with tears.

"I did this for you..."

He whispers, his footsteps heavy as he walked towards the door. He pledged his life to the Sith to try and save you, yet the only outcome he got was losing you. He couldn't tell what you needed protection from now, death or him. The anger he felt was something unfamiliar and he knew he had to leave before he did something permanent. He was going to save you, whether you liked it or not.

#fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #anakin skywalker #star wars #revenge of the sith #angst #darth vader

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