#do you laugh about me whenever i leave or do i just need more therapy. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

meetmymouth · 10 months

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i’m on the roof… (2)

read previous part here

notes: angst (with a happy ending), ex!harry, alcohol consumption, use of she/her. love is a game for fools to play and all that :-)

“You sound like a fridge magnet.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jeff turns around, iced drink still in hand– the other holding a colour-block jumper.

She shrugs– it seems like shrugging and pursing her lips are the only reactions she’s exercised since that night.

“Means you’re talking shit, I’m bored,” she sniffs, wandering her hands between racks of clothing.

“I didn’t even say anything.”

“You didn’t need to. You’re giving me that– that pathetic look; the look you all give me when I do or say something sad,” she walks a bit further away from him, but is still within earshot.

Jeff stops, and turns his whole body to where she is. She picks up a crop top, and purses her lips– again.

Jeff sighs, and shakes his drink, the ice making a pleasant sound in the plastic. “You didn’t say anything, did you?”

With a roll of her eyes, she sits on one of the stools. She looks away, heart heavy, and when she turns back to him, he’s smiling.

“What?” She asks.

He doesn’t say anything, and instead, he copies the shrug she gave him earlier.

“What, Jeff?”

“Just–” he says, shrugging again. “Just ask me.”

“Ask you, what?”

“Him.”

Almost shivering, she abandons the stool, and carries on walking.

They pay, and leave the shop, the both of them carrying a bag each. Jeff walks behind her, trying to keep up with her quick steps.

“Can you just–” he calls behind her, a few people turning their way to see what the fuss is about. She laughs, and turns her head his way, noticing how he’s trying to keep up with her. “Slow down?”

She stops walking, and he runs into her, chest making contact with her back.

“Wow, just– wow,” pushing her, she starts walking again, steps much slower and sluggish than before. “You need therapy.”

She lets out a laugh, adjusting the canvas bag on her shoulder. “I am in therapy.”

“Well, clearly it’s not working.”

“It would, if you just fucked off. Both of you.”

“You don’t mean that,” Jeff bumps their shoulders together.

“I do, I really do.”

“Hm.”

They walk some more, and they stop in front of the gates that lead to Jeff’s house.

“Wanna come in?”

She hums, though her legs don't move– she stays put.

It’s not a ‘yes’.

She looks up at the house in the distance, and sighs. Her eyes look for something in the distance, something up there, and when she spots the roof, her heart feels like someone’s squeezing it– as if they’re trying to get rid of excess water from a wet t-shirt.

If Jeff weren’t there, she thinks she would start hyperventilating, or perhaps start crying. How pathetic, she thinks.

“I”ll just,” she takes a step forward, watching as the gates start opening. “Get my car and go home.”

“Just come inside.”

“I’ll go.”

There’s a moment of silence, and he watches her with that same look in his eyes. The look he gave her that night– the look they all give her from time to time whenever she runs into them, or sees them out and about, or at gatherings.

She doesn’t like it– she can’t stand it.

“I’ll go,” she says, again, and Jeff lets her walk ahead.

She watches the gates to Jeff’s house get smaller and smaller from the rear-view window.

A sob escapes her mouth.

It looks pathetic, she thinks, the pasta in that ugly bowl.

It’s lacking a lot of things– it’s lacking basil, lemon slices, grated cheese that laid perfectly on top.

It’s lacking passion.

Love.

“This is shit.”

Sarah looks up from her own bowl of pasta, tomato sauce painting her already red lips, and a choked laugh leaves her mouth.

“What?”

“It tastes okay.”

“So?” Sarah asks, adjusting her body on the sofa, leaning back in her seat. They both look at the cold Rosé on the coffee table, though Sarah’s eyes find her face after a few seconds.

“It’s bland,” she shrugs, chewing the food with disdain.

Sarah shrugs, reaching for her wine glass. “I think it’s fine.”

The answer makes her groan. She looks up at her. “That’s the thing!” She insists, eyes wide open.

Sarah mimics her, clearly surprised at the sudden outburst. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing– everything. Nothing at all.”

“So,” she takes a sip from the cold wine. “Bolognese is a sore topic, I’m guessing?”

“It definitely isn’t. It’s just pasta, Sarah.”

“Wow,” she laughs. “You’re giving me a whiplash. How’s–”

“If one more person asks me about therapy, I will kill myself in front of you all. Just like that.”

Sarah gulps, clearly trying to digest not only the pasta, but also her words.

“Okay, well…”

“Sorry,” she bites her bottom lip. “I’m– I’ve been on edge. Mercury and all that.”

Sarah nods, very slowly, like she’s trying to make sense of everything she’s been saying for the last ten minutes.

“Yeah,” she agrees.

“Besides,” she clears her throat, and wipes the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “I’m very tired. You know the shelves I ordered last week?”

“Yeah…”

“They got here yesterday. Couldn’t sleep at all last night– been trying to mount them on the wall and they kept falling so I had to watch a lot of videos because did you know they don’t really give you nice instructions on those papers?”

“Oh?” Sarah bites her lip, watching her intently.

“Mhm. The writing is so small as well, so I had to download it online. Couldn’t understand shit,” she lets out a laugh– pasta forgotten. “I was going to call my– my friend, but figured he’d be sleeping, you know? So I tried going back to sleep but– well, couldn’t.”

“Okay,” Sarah says her name, clearly trying to stop the pathetic rambling.

She fails.

“It was too late. I started cleaning the guest bedroom. Found a lot of shit from when– you know. Apparently I hide everything under the bed,” she laughs.

She laughs, and laughs, then stops.

The bowl nearly tips over, but she stops it.

She lets out another chuckle, then it turns into a sob.

She doesn't even realise Sarah getting up from the sofa, grabbing the pasta bowl and placing it on the coffee table next to their wine glasses. Despite everything being too quiet, aside from her sobs, she feels as though there’s a storm outside– if she looks up, she’s almost certain she’s going to spot the palm trees surrounding her house swaying left and right, creating a scene much like the ones in horror films.

She hears Sarah muttering her name, trying to wrap her arms around her, but she feels put; she can’t make noise, nor move.

“Deep breaths,” Sarah is saying. “Take deep breaths, come back to me, come on– it’s okay. You’re okay– you’re here…”

Sundays are slow.

Sundays are reserved for quiet days, and charging up, soaking some sunshine– just overall, taking it easy.

Instead, she finds herself on the kitchen floor, “Killing Me Softly” playing loudly–very loudly–in the background as she tries to find her earring.

It’s here somewhere, she hears her own voice mumble to no one in particular. She looks everywhere, but as soon as her hand touches the pink rug, she freezes.

She feels the soft material of the rug– though it doesn’t feel as soft as it did when it was first bought. It feels coarse, like you’re petting a horse, and she’s never particularly liked the feeling. She looks at it, still on her knees, the small, hoop earring long-forgotten as the pink rug fills her vision. It’s so vibrant– so, so bright compared to everything in the kitchen that she finds herself crying at the sight.

She finds her phone in no time.

“What?”

“Tom?”

She hears Tom laugh. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t see it was you calling.”

“Can– what are you doing?”

A pause.

Then, he clears his throat.

“Nothing– nothing in particular. What’s up? Are you in LA?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m– I’m at home,” she nods, forgetting the fact that he wouldn’t be able to see her.

“Okay… you okay?”

“I think so.”

“Okay– are you– are you sure?”

“Tom?”

“Yes?” Tom answers back.

She gulps. Hand still feeling the pink rug.

Her knees are starting to hurt.

“Do you remember that pink rug we had in my kitchen?”

Another pause follows.

“Yes…”

“I don’t really– I hate it.”

Tom doesn’t answer for a while.

She hears shuffling on his end.

“You don’t like the rug– uh huh– yes.”

“It’s, well, it’s ugly. I’ve never liked it. I don’t– like it.”

“Do you–” he says her name, and it sounds like a plea. “Do you want me to come over?”

“No– yes. I don’t know, why?”

He chuckles. “I dunno, I thought you might need another pair of eyes to judge the rug.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I… don’t think so.”

“What? Do you want me to come over?” He asks. Again.

“I do.”

Some more shuffling, and she hears his voice.

Where is she?

“Tom?”

“Yes, love? I’ll be there–”

“–Am I on speaker? Did you put me on speaker?” She asks, disdain clear in her voice.

A jingle of keys, and she hears everything clearer now. “No, not anymore, sorry,” Tom answers, and she hears a door slamming shut.

“Are you coming?”

“Yes. Stay where you are.”

“On the floor?” She tries to joke, but she has an epiphany.

It’s all so pathetic.

She is pathetic.

“Well– no, not on the floor. Sit on a sofa or something.”

“The pink rug?” She finds herself asking meekly.

Tom laughs. “Keep it.”

She only gets on her feet when Tom calls her, letting her know he’s outside the gates. It takes him about three minutes to get to her front door, and when she opens the door, bottom lip trapped between her teeth, he gives her that same look everybody’s been giving her for a while. It’s not sad– they don’t exactly look sad; they just look worried.

She decides she doesn’t like it.

“Can I come in?” He says, feet already carrying him inside.

She doesn’t respond, just watches him walk inside, and take his shoes off.

They just stand there for a bit, until Tom nods–more to himself–before wrapping his arms around her.

She shakes like a leaf, sobbing and wetting the white t-shirt he has on.

His hug feels like Harry’s, perhaps it’s because they’re best friends.

It feels warm, and safe, his embrace.

She basks in it, hugging him tighter as he sways them in the middle of her entrance. He doesn’t say anything, just lets her cry into his t-shirt. Only when she stops he grabs her by the forearm, and helps her sit on the sofa.

Curling into herself, she closes her eyes.

She hears him call her name.

“What?”

“You need to– this needs to stop,” Tom lifts her legs, and moves them on his lap, getting comfortable on the green sofa.

“I can’t.”

He clears his throat. “If you just spoke to him…”

“No. Absolutely not,” she visibly shudders at the thought of seeing him, talking to him again.

Purely because she knows she will give in.

“This can’t go on like this, you know that, right?”

“Why not?”

He opens his mouth to respond, but his phone goes off with a phone call.

He takes it out of his pocket, and sighs– presses the side button to silence it as it keeps ringing.

She can see the screen– the call is still incoming.

“Who is it?” She asks, knowing she has no right to.

“It’s– fine.”

“What’s fine? Who is it? Is it Jenny?” She murmurs, throwing one of the throw pillows on the floor so she can lean back on the sofa. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

Tom nods.

She groans, feeling hot all of a sudden. Another wave of tears hit her, and she feels them rolling down her cheek.

She looks at her hands on her lap. She plays with her ring. “Why– were you together– when I called?”

“Yeah,” Tom nods again, voice quiet.

They fall silent for a while, before they both flinch at the sound of her doorbell going off.

“Who the fuck–”

Tom stands up, and she holds him by the arm.

“I’ll answer it,” he says.

“What? No– this is my house.”

“You look like– well…”

It’s too late, though, because he watches her walk to her front door.

Whoever is at the door presses the doorbell once again, but she stops in her tracks; she can’t move.

It’s weird, because whoever is on the other side of the door, is someone who knows the code to her gates, and they probably know the security outside for them to be able to walk freely to her front door.

Whoever is on the other side of her door, shouldn’t be him.

But, as always, life has unpleasant surprises for her.

It is him.

She catches a whiff of Harry as soon as she opens the door, and she feels her legs give up, though she finds it in herself to hold on to the door.

“Go,” she can only say. “Please, go.”

He takes a step back. “I’m– I can’t.”

It feels weird, almost nostalgic, hearing his voice.

It’s deep, hoarse, like he hasn’t used it in a while. But, at the same time, it feels fond, hearty…

“Harry,” she whispers.

Her insides fill with relief and chaos at the same time, just from hearing his name coming out of her own mouth.

He responds, saying her name back.

“Don’t make me leave,” Harry shakes his head. “Don’t– I can’t leave. Not now. Not when I’m here– not when you’re in front of me.”

She lets out a whine, the wind from the outside sends a chill down her spine. Harry stays put; it looks like he’s not even breathing, not saying anything– just staring at her. He looks like he’s about to drop to his knees, and cry. Glossy eyes meet hers, and she sees him take a step forward, toes almost touching.

“Let me–” Harry whispers, voice cracking. He sounds like he’s breaking. He doesn’t finish his sentence, he just– he waits.

She’d forgotten about Tom until she feels his presence behind her and they both turn to him, the blond man giving her a sheepish smile.

“You called him,” she says, matter-of-factly, ears feeling warm. Anger and shame.

Tom looks at Harry, a silent conversation happening between them for a second before he turns to her.

“I didn’t call him–”

“–He didn’t, I was with him when you called. I knew he would be here,” Harry murmurs.

She doesn’t say anything, instead, she watches Tom contemplate for a few seconds before he sighs. “I’m gonna– I’ll leave.”

“Tom…”

“If you need anything, let me know. I’ll come back. You know I will.”

“Tom, please.”

Harry cuts her off, says her name, and she turns to him again, completely ignoring Tom who quickly brushes past them and walks towards the gates.

“Harry,” she says. “Please leave, I can’t do this right now.”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t what, Harry? Just fucking leave. I don’t have the strength to do this with you– to argue, to fight with you. I’m done– there’s nothing left in me to do this with you,” she waves her hands in the air, and Harry gulps.

He’s nervous.

“Don’t, then. Don’t argue with me– don’t fight with me, let’s just– let’s just be.”

“Fuck you.”

He smiles, it’s barely there, but she can tell by his lips turning upwards ever-so-slightly. “Yes.”

“Fuck off,” she takes a step back. Harry follows.

“I know.”

She leaves him there, and walks inside the living room, feet carrying her back to the sofa. She sits, leans back, and closes her eyes.

She feels him staring, even with her eyes closed.

That’s the problem, really.

She knows him. She feels him– all the time.

“I hate you,” she whispers, eyes now open. “I hate you so much.”

Harry doesn’t sit– he just stands there, by the console table. “I know.”

“Stop–” she averts her gaze to the ceiling. “–Stop repeating yourself.”

“I want to apologise.”

“For?”

“For– everything. For that night. And before that.”

“And before that, as well?” She asks, playing with the pillow on her lap.

“For everything, yeah.”

“Did you apologise to her, as well?” She tries to find his gaze, though he doesn’t give in.

He can’t even look at her.

His gaze stays on his shoes, hands trembling at his side.

“I did.”

She lets out a chuckle filled with bitterness. It’s cold, and it’s nasty.

She feels nasty.

“I feel nasty,” she says. She means it.

“I do, too.”

“Why– how did this happen?” She looks around, then back at him.

Their gazes find each other.

Harry sits on the edge of the sofa. They’re closer now.

“I don’t know, but I’m sorry for everything.”

“Why did you come?”

“I wanted to see you,” Harry turns his face, and she catches a glimpse of the shadows on his face.

He looks tired.

“I’m not well.”

“I know.”

She lets out a laugh. “Not your fault, though, I mean– I let you do this to me, to us,” she clears her throat.

“Can I– how can I fix this?”

“You can’t.”

“Please…” He almost whines. She closes her eyes. “I need you.”

“You don’t need me.”

“I do– I always do. I need you all the time,” he gets up, gets on his knees. It’s all so fast that she’s worried he might bruise his knees. “I’m selfish– I’m horrible, I know. But, I need you, I–”

“–Don’t say it,” she shakes her head, watches him come closer to her, on his knees in front of her. “Don’t you dare fucking say it.”

“I love you.”

“No,” it’s frantic, the shaking of her head. She feels cold. “No. Don’t.”

“I love you. I think– I think I’ll always love you, always need you. I’m not– I can’t do it without you.”

“Stop gaslighting me.”

“What?”

“Harry, just–” she gets on her feet, walks past him to stop by the coffee table. “Get up– you look pathetic– you sound pathetic!”

He does.

He listens.

A year is a long time.

Her hair’s longer.

Her nails are shorter.

It doesn’t hurt as bad when she sees his favourite colours on the streets, or when his favourite song comes on shuffle. She sleeps better now, doesn’t cry that often– only once a day on most days.

She still reaches for his side of the wardrobe when it’s chilly at night– still makes his favourite food when she knows he’s away and he might be missing home. When February comes, she goes out and buys his favourite flowers. Such beautiful flowers, the lady at the till says. I know, she says, they’re my favourites.

She breathes easily now, she thinks.

Until now.

She’s three glasses in when she walks back into the kitchen, and spots the pink rug.

She leaves the wine glass on the kitchen island, and gets on her knees. She acts like she’s found her missing earring. Then, her hand finds her phone in her pocket.

She does scroll for a bit before she finds his name.

He picks up on the fourth ring.

He sounds breathless, so does she.

“Can you come over,” she asks. “I need you.”

She doesn’t get a response for a while. She grows anxious.

“Please? Are you in LA?” She goes on. >Pathetic.

He answers at last. “I– am. Yes.”

“Come– come over.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Harry,” she hears herself say, sounding equally breathless. It sounds like a prayer. It’s the first time in a while she’s said it out loud.

“Yes?” She hears his keys being picked up.

“Come home.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #love on tour #harry styles angst #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #harry’s house

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possibilistfanfiction · 1 year

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avatrice + kiss on the back of the hand?

[ava + some friends, more outside pov (in the future!) for @unicyclehippo]

despite the fact that physical therapy is boring, and not at all your favorite activity, you like your therapist, brian, and at least you’ve gotten to consistently schedule it early enough in the morning you don’t miss your bridge group. and you’ve been compliant — mostly; you did spend more time on your feet last week than you were supposed to, but your grandson was visiting and you would never let him leave without having his favorite brisket and matzoh ball soup — and have done the exercises brian gives you to do at home every day.

the physical therapy gym is mostly boring, more — and you hate to say it — old people, like you, recovering from total knee or total hip replacements, and a few young athletes. your son, ezra, drops you off and picks you up twice a week; sometimes his husband, marcus, fills in and he always takes you to get donuts afterward, your little secret. today you sit at the table you always start at, your walker steady and almost unnecessary at this point, and a young woman, exhausted-looking and the kind of pretty that could easily belong in a party when you were young, sitting in a sleek wheelchair by the table, smiles gently across you. you’re early by a few minutes — ezra is wonderful, but he’s a bit wound up all the time — so you smile back. ‘i’m ruth,’ you say.

‘hi.’ the young woman seems happy to talk, cheerful. ‘i’m ava.’

‘very exciting beginning to your morning, it seems like.’

she groans. ‘ugh, tell me about it. my partner barely woke up in time to drive me here.’

you laugh. ‘not a morning person?’

ava rolls her eyes. ‘no, not at all. i love mornings though, even if they’re at physical therapy.’

‘it’s not so bad,’ you tell her. ‘have you done it before?’

‘not really.’ she shrugs. ‘i have some chronic spine stuff from a car accident when i was younger, and my doctors have tried… a lot, so we’re hoping this helps everything.’

‘i hope it’ll help.’ you gesture to your walker. ‘total hip replacement. from being old.’

ava’s smile is bright. ‘kinda cool, to get old, though, huh? and to have as cool of clothes as you do? i can only hope the same for myself, one day.’

it’s sweet, and sincere, and aching under the surface. ‘it is wonderful, to get to grow old. and —‘ you wink — ‘to get to be better dressed than everyone around you.’

‘hell yeah.’ she looks at her own hoodie and joggers. ‘i usually am better dressed than this, or, at least, more fun; i just had surgery last week.’

‘well, when you’re feeling better, i’m sure i’ll be very impressed.’

‘i don’t know about that.’ ava blushes a little, and you’re delighted. ‘i think my partner is probably the better dressed of the two of us; she’s very chic. but i’m fun!’

‘fun is the most important part. especially when you’re an old lady.’

she laughs and then brian walks up, says hi to you, and you wave. ‘good luck, ava. i’ll talk to you soon.’

‘for sure,’ she tells you enthusiastically.

you’re waiting on a bench in front of the physical therapy gym in the warm sunshine — not too hot, not too cold, perfect — when ava walks toward you, slowly and with a cane, but walking.

‘is this seat taken?’

‘for a pretty girl like you? absolutely not.’

she laughs, bright and warm. ‘ruth, you flirt.’

‘i’m old.’ she sits gingerly and it makes you hurt for her, just a little — not that she needs any mobility aids, but because it’s clear she’s in pain. ‘i get to flirt whenever i want.’

‘oh, is that how it works?’

‘absolutely,’ you tell her sagely.

‘well, other than me, of course, let me know if there are any crushes i should know about? i love drama, and my life is, both tragically and fortunately, drama free right now.’

‘well, sean in my bridge group, and david from shul. oh, and lee from my favorite cafe i go to for lunch.’

‘hmm, pros and cons? or are we playing the field?’

you laugh, and you tell her about sean’s clever hands, the beautiful way david reads scripture, how lee always offers you half his reuben. ava listens attentively, like she really cares, and, after she asks a thoughtful series of questions about how to play bridge — my girlfriend would probably demolish at this game, honestly — you understand that she really does care; she really does want to know you. so you ask her questions too; her partner’s name is beatrice, and she is, according to ava, beautiful and kind and exacting; ava grew up mostly in spain and is a bartender, which she loves, and they live in a house on the beach because beatrice, apparently, works in consulting all over europe, and also enjoys teaching aikido. ‘she has four black belts,’ ava says, and fans herself. it makes you laugh, and when marcus drives up in his practical, nice bmw hybrid, you pat her hand.

‘see you tuesday, ruth.’

‘enjoy your weekend, ava.’

ava’s walking better on tuesday, and she sits next to you without asking this time, after you’re both finished. she fishes around in her crossbody bag and then holds out her hand, some candy with wrappers in mandarin on her palm. ‘they’re plum candies. they’re beatrice’s favorites, so i thought i was being sweet, but, i kinda went overboard and ordered, like, enough for a small army.’

you laugh but take one — you would never turn down an offered sweet; something of a communion — and open it while ava does the same. it’s wonderful: flavorful and sweet and a little sour, and you tell ava that.

‘ugh, i know,’ she says. ‘i don’t think bea had had them for a really long time; she cried the other day.’ ava smiles, like she’s trying not to laugh. ‘it was very sweet. a little dramatic, but i get it. i kind of go crazy for panellets.’

‘well, i’m making babka tomorrow, how about i bring you both some thursday?’

‘ruth, that’s too much.’

‘i love to share food,’ you say. ‘really, it’s part of the job description of a bubbe. they only let you in if you share your babka.’

ava rolls her eyes but then she nods. ‘i would really love that.’

ezra drives up, and you stand — easily, now, without pain and much stiffness — and wave.

your babka turns out as good as it always does — the best at shul, despite the fact that yael claims hers is better — and you place a few carefully in a tupperware to bring to ava, who seems a little wilted when she sits next to you. she waves you off when you look concerned.

’no big deal,’ she says. ‘just didn’t sleep too well last night. but! now i’m going to eat the world’s best babka and nap after bea drops me off. do you think i could convince her to nap with me?’

‘depends on why you didn’t sleep well last night.’

it takes ava a minute but then she laughs, brightening immediately. ‘ruth!’

‘you’re young, you should be having fun.’

‘oh, we have fun.’ ava grins. ‘don’t worry.’

‘well, speaking of fun,’ you say, ‘a few of my friends and i go to this water aerobics class at the country club together, every wednesday. i’m sorry if i was eavesdropping, but i heard kayvon tell you that some water therapy might be helpful? it’s really quite fun.’

‘that sounds awesome, honestly. i just got cleared to drive myself next week, so i would love that!’

you don’t bother to mention that everyone in the class is over seventy, mostly because you don’t really care, but, also, ava doesn’t seem to care, at all, that you’re at least fifty years older than her: you’re friends, and she’s kind, and bright.

once again, marcus is there to pick her up before her ride, but you give her your number — and you add her on facebook, because that’s easier for you sometimes — before you leave. you send her the details later that day, and she responds with a few emojis you don’t understand, but that your grandson laughs at when you show him. good enough.

‘i didn’t know, really, what to wear to water aerobics,’ ava says, happily sitting on the edge of the pool with you. she has on a simple red one-piece, her hair tied up in a bun, although short pieces escape. the back dips low and you see multiple scars, some faded and one new, and painful looking; ava’s light often makes you forget why you first met.

‘this is great,’ you tell her. you gesture to your brightly colored, polka dotted tankini. ‘you can spice it up however much you want. just wait until you meet angela.’

as if on cue, angela, tall and Black and striking, walks in, with her perpetually perfect close cropped hair, in a pair of heels and draped in an elegant silk coverup over a royal blue bikini. ‘whoa,’ ava says, and it’s so earnest it makes you laugh.

‘listen,’ ava says, ‘i’m bi, queer, and, yeah, i have a partner who is so so so beautiful, like, god, this morning she came home from surfing and used our outdoor shower — thank god for her trust fund, am i right? — but… ruth, i have eyes.’ she looks over to you. ‘you have eyes too, right? like, no offense to sean and david and lee, but… angela is stunning, okay?’

‘she is,’ you grant her, mostly because you’re amused. angela walks over and smiles, gracious and perfect, and you gesture to ava, who gulps. ‘angela, ava. ava, angela.’

‘hello, ava,’ angela says. ‘ruth says that she’s quite fond of you from physical therapy.’

‘yeah,’ ava says, a little stunned. ‘that’s — that’s really kind, ruth.’

‘we don’t invite just anyone to water aerobics. it’s an exclusive club.’

‘other than courtney,’ angela grumbles.

’well, true,’ you admit. ‘but she’s not part of lunch. ava, next week, you should come join us.’

‘i would love that,’ she says. ‘beatrice will too, i’ll make sure of it.’

you laugh, and angela waves to rosa and farha when she sees them. class goes great; ava seems, when you look over at her a few times, to enjoy it a lot. even though you hadn’t really worried that ava would feel out of place, any nagging feelings are assuaged when she gets out of the pool and wraps a towel around her shoulders, carefully moves on the wet floor with a cane.

‘i told bea i’d be home soon,’ she says, ‘and she gets kinda nervous when i’m late. but! i’ll see you at therapy tomorrow, and i’ll definitely plan on lunch next week.’ she hesitates for a moment and then gives you a hug, which fills you with a very particular kind of warmth. ‘thank you, for inviting me.’

‘of course, ava. see you tomorrow.’

you see ava at therapy and you think, for the most part, she’s improving: you haven’t seen her wheelchair in months, and she still uses her cane, but you think it’s mostly because it feels safer, especially if she’s sore. you start going once a week but it doesn’t really matter, because she comes to water aerobics in increasingly fun swimsuits, including a purple stripped bikini that makes even angela whistle. ‘oh, to be young again,’ she had said, and ava had blushed.

‘so, how did you meet beatrice?’ margot asks, back from her annual trip to florida.

ava puts down her fork and smiles, so soft. ‘work, in spain. a job i didn’t even want, even. but, even from when we first met, she’s always just been so kind. we spent a sabbatical together, one summer, and that’s when i really fell in love with her.’

‘love at first sight, then?’ angela grins.

‘maybe not quite,’ ava says, then laughs. ‘i was… difficult, back then. obviously, i’m a total angel now.’

you roll your eyes and farha says, ‘oh, sure.’

‘we’ve been through a lot,’ ava says, softer and very sincere. ‘she’s — she’s the best person i know.’

‘well we need to meet her,’ you decide, even though you’ve been meaning to ask them both to shabbat soon anyway. ‘bring her to lunch friday?’

‘if that’s okay with everyone? i guarantee she has exceedingly good manners, much much better than mine.’

‘low bar,’ rosa says.

‘ha ha, very funny.’ ava tries her best not to smile but then does anyway, brighter than the noon sun overhead outside.

you’re just sitting down at the table, one extra seat this week, when ava perks up and then stands, steady and even, and you see who you know, from pictures ava has shown you, is beatrice, smiling a little nervously. ‘hi, baby,’ ava says, and beatrice takes ava’s hand and gently places a kiss to her knuckles, like a genuine knight.

‘absurd,’ angela whispers from next to you, and you try not to laugh loud enough for them to hear you, because they’re young but they’re not that young: they have a home together, and you know, from the few things ava has mentioned privately, usually on days that are too, too bright, things have been hard, and they’ve had to spend time apart in the past, and ava is thankful.

‘hello, everyone,’ beatrice says, her accent and posture extremely formal, in contrast to her casual but still, somehow, smart black hoodie and white sweatshorts and birkenstocks. her hair is in a messy bun, a few strands escaping that ava happily pushes behind her ears, and a big tattoo sitting above her left knee; she’s muscular and strong, but there are freckles spread across her cheeks and, when ava smiles at her, she softens, entirely. they are young, and, even though ava has shown you pictures, you’re still struck, in the moment, by how much they fit.

there’s a chorus of hi, beatrice and it’s so good to meet you and ava talks about you all the time, but beatrice takes it all in stride, a happy little smile on her face. you understand, quickly, that they fit, the same way you and aaron had, so long ago: ava is loud and overwhelmingly bright, enthusiastic and generous with all of her affection, and beatrice is quietly funny, whip smart, and thoughtfully attentive to ava. she turns and listens, fully, to whoever is talking, and knows about rosa’s birding, and the shrine farha talks about in lahore, and the new podcast angela is listening to. she’s impressive, as a person, and ava seems distinctly aware of it, basking, a little, in being chosen by someone so special.

‘sorry i’m underdressed,’ beatrice says after you order. ‘i was surfing this morning, and then had to jump on a work call, and i didn’t want to be late.’

‘everything okay?’ ava checks.

‘yes,’ beatrice says, soothes a hand along ava’s thigh and then squeezes her knee. ‘nothing of concern.’

ava squints. ’were you just asleep? you wouldn’t lie to me, right?’

beatrice pauses. ‘i was — well, catching up on some sleep, when camila called.’

ava barks a laugh. ‘bea is the sleepiest person i know.’

‘sleep is one of the great pleasures of life,’ angela says, regal and finite in her statement, ‘among other things in bed.’

beatrice grins while ava blushes. ‘now i know why you like coming to these classes and lunches so much,’ beatrice says, shooting angela a wink. ‘you do have a type.’

‘ah, and what a type it is,’ ava says, sighing for effect, seemingly recovered from her momentary emabrassment.

at the end of lunch, you do invite them to shabbat, and beatrice asks your favorite kind of kosher wine.

‘okay, you are all sworn to secrecy,’ ava says, leaning forward at the table. it’s not particularly quiet, because farha’s hearing aides can only do so much, and rosa flat out refuses to wear any, but there’s no on important around you anyway.

‘wonderful,’ angela says.

‘i love a secret,’ you agree.

‘well.’ ava lets out a big breath. ‘beatrice and i are going to switzerland, next week, to the alps, where we spent our first summer together, and i —‘ she shakes her head — ‘this feels so crazy, but i’m going to propose.’

it sends the whole table into a flurry of excitement, asking about ava’s plan — a hike, the one they would go on every tuesday together, slowly and for fun — and the ring ava had picked out — beautiful, and elegant, and perfect, you think — and, ‘do you think she’ll say yes?’

ava gulps. ‘i know she wants to spend her life with me.’ she sounds sure, and calm, despite her fingers nervously fidgeting with her napkin. ‘she was… very religious, for a long time, so, like, she’s always been really accepting of other same sex marriages, but i think it’s taken her a minute to get her to feel ready for, like, our own very queer marriage. sacrament, and all that, i guess.’ she shakes her head. ‘but anyway, yes! i think she’s ready. i think she really wants to get married.’

her smile is gentle, serene, and you had watched beatrice — in neat linen, her hair long and swept over her shoulder, fight her way through eating multiple bites of gefilte fish last friday, even though it was clear she hated it, and say prayers in hebrew, quietly. ava had been in her chair; you hadn’t asked, and neither had anyone from shul or your family, but beatrice had made sure that she had everything she needed, unobtrusive and practiced. ava had been, unexpectedly, the life of the party, charming everyone with her laugh and her silly puns and a very spirited debate with your granddaughter about women’s soccer. they’re a pair, you understood, very clearly: at the end of the night, ava had encouraged beatrice, gently, to take extra kugel along with the challah and chicken you’d already put in tupperware for them; beatrice had gotten their sweaters from the closet and handed ava’s to hers with a kiss to her forehead, tender and private, a moment that had belonged just to them.

‘we’ll all be eagerly awaiting the engagement photographs,’ angela says with sure gravitas.

‘post them on facebook,’ you tell her, and ava laughs, but she promises, later, when you give her a hug, that she will.

‘thank you, for inviting us,’ you tell ava, a bit in awe, if you’re being honest, of their house. she bounces around happily, and angela just looks at you with a raised brow for a moment. there are bright red and gold decorations everywhere, and beatrice walks over with a neat bun and beautiful jacket, embroidered so elegantly even angela seems a little in love with it.

’happy new year,’ she says, and you both give her a hug as you return the sentiment, then shows you to their kitchen, with a spread of chinese food that smell so, so good, and then gestures out to the open-air doors and patio that overlooks the ocean. ‘help yourselves to whatever you want. ruth, there are plenty of dishes that i made sure meet all kosher standards; they should be labeled. and there’s plenty of seating, and come find me if you need anything.’ she pauses. ‘or ava, but she gets a little… activated when we have a lot of people over.’

‘so, did we know how rich they were?’ angela says, loading her plate with everything she can after beatrice walks away to greet more guests.

‘not this rich.’

you both wait a beat and then laugh, and you find seats by the railing; your hip doesn’t hurt at all anymore. ava finds you both eventually and steals an egg roll from your plate with a laugh. ‘i’ll get you another one,’ she promises. ‘and, i just wanted to say, thanks for being my friends. i know it’s silly, but the water aerobics have really helped me feel better — and much less bored — when my mobility has been limited. and i love hearing about your lives, and sharing mine. i just —’ she scrubs her hand along the back of her neck, her hair neatly trimmed to her chin, fluttering in the breeze. ‘i went a long time without great role models.’

it’s so sincere and so touching. angela sniffles and you fish a hanky from your purse and hand it to her; she dabs her eyes.

‘don’t call us old,’ she says, voice breaking, and ava laughs.

‘i could’ve called you my adoptive grandmothers, so count your blessings.’

you roll your eyes when she takes a big, smiling bite of her (your) egg roll. ‘you are a blessing,’ you tell her.

ava swallows her bite and then leans to hug you, tight and sincere. ‘thank you,’ she whispers.

‘happy new year, ava.’

‘yeah,’ she says, a little teary but with a huge smile. ‘happy new year.’

#we have been talking abt ava & her bubbe for... Months !! lol #finally got to it #ava & the gals #ft sleepy bea #wn #warrior nun fic #avatrice #avatrice fic #prompts #also happy lunar new year!!!! this is the new year they're attending fyi if that isn't clear lol #also yes ava's type rly is like exacting smartly dressed women who are in fact taller than her

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darkdevasofdestruction · 1 year

Text

When the Wild Wind Blows ~ Negan Smith x Reader

Summary: A little after Lucille’s death, Negan finds a lone woman who asks to become his companion for the sake of survival the newly-arrived apocalypse. Together, they brave many challenges and their bond tightens, until a hoard separates them for an indefinite amount of time. With both thinking the other dead, they find new groups... Until they find each other once again, in the the midst of war.

They were supposed to go on for the rest of their lives. Isn’t that what they vowed to each other when they got married? That they will be forever together, until death do ‘em part? They should have changed that stupid vow. Something like - Even after death takes ‘em, or something. Anything! Anything that will ensure Lucille doesn’t leave him. He was so angry that she left him like that.

Negan sigh, stroking his bat as he looked into the small fire with dead eyes. He never imagined his life would end up like this. He never imagined his wife, his Lucille, the love of his life... Would die.

He was a prick. A shit head. He cheated on her multiple times, with her best friend no less. He deserved all the worst thing to happen to him - Divine punishment? By fire be purged... Was that how it went? Maybe. He deserved all that.

But Lucille didn’t deserve all the pain she went through.

She didn’t deserve all the agony HE put her through... The supposed loyal, loving husband... Who was nothing more than an irresponsible piece of shit deadbeat husband who wasted his life away cheating and playing video games. He was the biggest failure in this world, and yet, despite everything, Lucille still stuck by his side, as if he was the one hurt, not her.

He didn’t deserve an angel like her, and he’ll never meet anyone like her ever again.

The news of her terminal diagnostic killed him much before this walker Apocalypse even started... But if these dead fuckers would have just stayed in their graves, his Lucille would have had a chance of survival. Go do her chemo and radiotherapy at the hospital, maybe do the surgery... Everything that needed to be done. And he would be there with her through it all. He knew the nasty side effects of the therapy - He wasn’t going to abandon her again. He mistreated her once - Greatest mistake of his life - But being met with the fatality of the situation, he couldn’t imagine his life going on without her.

There was no life without Lucille.

‘Please don’t leave me like this ♡‘ she wrote multiple times on the walls, before killing herself in bed, not before forgetting to keep herself bound and head covered, so she wouldn’t end up hurting him.

‘Please don’t leave me like this ♡‘ she wanted him to destroy her dead body, to make sure she doesn’t end up as some disfigured dead shell of her former self, going around and killing people who have every chance of living.

‘Please don’t leave me like this ♡‘ even in death, she wanted him to live... Even without her... Live for her as well.

‘Please don’t leave me like this ♡‘ even watching him from Heaven, Lucille was cursing him to a life without her body in his arms, without her sweet voice calling out his name, and her hands roaming through his hair... Her honey laugh whenever he’d crack some of his stupid jokes...

‘Please don’t leave me like this ♡‘ ... I would never leave you... But Lucille... What about me...? Now it is me, who is all alone, in this vast world... What reason is there to live anymore? There is no life without you... Lucille... Come back to me, please... I miss you so much... I love you so much...

Lucille...

Please don’t leave me like this.

It was always the Sun setting, and the Moon rising up on the sky and the Stars twinkling brightly that it reminded him of all the woes that his shattered heart was feeling. He was so absorbed in his own wallowing and sorrows... It was already a whole month passing, yet the pain didn’t diminish in the slightest. He was so preoccupied with his self-pitying, that he didn’t hear the soft rustle of the bushes, nor the light steps made onto the small twigs and the dead, crunching leaves.

It took a few approaching noises to make him finally snap his lethargic gaze up from the crackling of the burning wood, only to hear the faintest gasp. The was a figure there, hiding behind a tree - How silly. Negan narrowed his eyes to get a better look at the silhouette failing to pathetically to hide behind a tree far slimmer than her own body... But by the way the woman was peeking like a child, and the way her very long hair was swaying with the breeze out of the hiding spot... She must have been very aware of her position.

“Come out. I can see you.” he called out to her, but she merely leaned more to the side. “I know.” her voice sounded timid, yet somehow, it held some kind of... What was it... Defiance? No - He was a teacher, he knew what defiance meant when kids got bratty. It was a sort of confidence that she held, despite her fear of approaching him, almost like a wild animal, starving and seeing food for the first time. “If you know, why are you still hiding?” he asked, propping his bat to the ground and leaning his jaw on the handle. “I’m watching you.” she explained, not budging. “Watching me?” Negan asked, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “What for? Are you some Myers-level stalker? I’m no babysitter, I assure you... But I did teach kids before. Does that count?” he barked a laugh. “I don’t have a knife. Or a mask. Sorry to ruin your fantasy.” she huffed. “I’m trying to assess whether or not I should approach you.” “And what has your... Assessing concluded?” the corner of his mouth twitched upwards - For once, his mind was being distracted with something other than despair and misery. “... Inconclusive.” she muttered. “I could be dangerous, y’know? I have a bat - And it has barbed wire wrapped around it. One single hit, and you’d be dead. Care to re-assess?” he chuckled, almost villainously. “You have a weapon to defend yourself against walkers and other human enemies alike. Others have machetes. Some have guns... Machine guns... Rifles. Everyone has a weapon. You’re not special.” though her words sounded snarky and insulting, her tone was calm and sincere - She was just awfully blunt, despite how much she looked like a scared little baby fawn. Hilarious. “Do you?” the man was met with silence. “I guess not.” “Whether I tell you or not, I’d still be putting myself to a disadvantage by confirming information about myself. I don’t want to compromise my position.” she explained strategically. “You’re already at a disadvantage. I could both outrun and overpower you. There’s little a weapon would do to aid you.” the girl remained quiet a bit more. “Why did you approach me?” “I...” there goes that previously shy demeanour. “I want to join your group.” “There’s no group to join, darling, sorry to disappoint. Just lil’ ol’ me.” she still nodded. “That’s fine too. Anything is better than being alone.” her declaration stung Negan’s heart bitterly. “Ain’t wrong with that one.” he muttered, more to himself than to her. “Aren’t you afraid I’d kill you?” she hung her head. “Come closer, let me have a better look at you.” it only made her hide back behind the tree completely. “Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to scare you away like that.” she still didn’t budge. “I won’t hurt you.” “Will you let me join you?” she asked again, still not unveiling herself properly. “Fine, yeah, sure. Like you said - Ain’t so great being alone. Trust me, I’d know.” “Promise.” she sounded demanding, almost harsh even. “Promise? Ha! How childish of you!” he laughed once again, but he noticed the girl didn’t move at all. “What, you really want me to promise? That’s silly. I could easily break the promise anyway, nothing is keeping me from doing that.” still no move. “Why do you want me to promise so badly anyway?” “Because if you promise, then I have a reason to trust you - Then, if you betray me, it means that you broke your promise - Thus, it isn’t my fault that I trusted you, but your fault for being a jerk and breaking your promise to me.” Negan remained quiet for a few seconds, even unable to blink. Though he found some reason behind her words, they sounded like something the little girls he used to teach would say. It seemed to Negan that, with no means of defending herself, and finding him somewhat reasonable, this was her only means of surviving. How adorable. “You’re not really all that smart, are you?” he found himself asking, though without much thinking. “No - In fact, I am smart. I used to be a doctor, I worked hard, studied a lot. I was actually pretty good. Graduated among the top 50 or something. From an academic point of view, I am smart, and I know that. From a wisdom side, I, also, consider myself pretty smart, based on how everyone would come to me for advice.” Negan never expected such a calculated refuting. “But this isn’t the world we were brought up in. No amount of strategy games, apocalypse movies or rational, logical ideas can really guarantee you 100% survival chances.” she voice lowered. “I’m a frail, lone woman, also weaponless and with awful orientation skills. What chances do you think I have to live, even if I make all the stereotypically smart choices? There’s only so much I can run, hide, and live on air alone. The only smart choice I have left is to find someone who still has his humanity intact, at least to some degree, and find a way to stick by their side.” Negan sighed and nodded his head before he waved his hand at her to come over. “Fine, I promise I won’t hurt you. You can join me, do what you want.” how could he doom a young woman to her death by doing something as cruel as rejecting to protect her? He already let the most important person in his life down... Was this his chance to redemption? Was this a sign from Lucille, to keep on going?

Slowly, the young woman snapped her head left and right cautiously, before carefully stepping towards the man - Still weary at first, but she ended up towering over the fire awkwardly. Did she... Did she need some kind of invitation to sit down? No, wait - From the way her eyes were flickering on high alert to each and every inch of his little camp, she was scanning every little thing - That, and she genuinely seemed socially awkward.

“Thanks.” she muttered. Quickly, Negan extended his hand, showing a seat for her to take, on the stump opposite of his log. She sat down, huddling by the fire. Now, Negan could get a better look at her. Her beautiful, long hair was a mess, but somehow, it worked, giving her a wild beauty look. She had no make up, save for the dirt and sweat caked on her skin and clothes for being away from home for so long. Her clothes were comfortable, but somewhat chic - A pair of jeans, nice on the leg, but not skinny - And she had some kind of charm, hanging from the loops on the waist. She had a simple black shirt and a cardigan over it - It was pretty long, and she used the sleeves to cover her hands entirely. But despite the casual yet still pretty elegant outfit, Negan spotted golden jewellery gracing her neck, fingers and wrists. Golden, with black gems. Did she use to be rich? Or did she just like dolling herself up? Was she on a date when all hell broke loose?

There was a long silence, with Negan staring uncomfortably long at the girl, and her staring back, a sour look on her face. “I don’t appreciate being stared at. Please stop.” Negan smirked at her. “Can’t blame a man for looking at a pretty woman, can you?” “Yes, I can, and I will. You’re being creepy.” she deadpanned, making the man laugh more. “You’re a real piece of work, aren’t you, doll?” he found himself leaning forward, towards the fire. “Y/N.” she said. “My name is Y/N. Call me that.” though she wasn’t using a demanding, ordering tone, he still felt somehow inclined to do as she said. “Y/N. What a pretty name for a pretty girl.” Negan watched with amusement as she sighed in exasperation. “I haven’t taken a bath in over a month. I’m filthy, and I’m pretty sure that, if walkers could smell, they would all hoard over to tear me apart. No need to continue this whole gimmick of yours, it’s ridiculous and you’re making me uncomfortable.” she ran a hand through her hair, cringing a bit through the tangles. “Have you always been such a joyful presence in your group of friends?” he snarked her, though light hearted. Y/N looked down at the fire, silent. She attempted to open her mouth to speak a few times, before stopping herself. “You never told me your name.” she evaded that question - Did she feel attacked? Or did he hit a sensitive note with that question? “Negan. Name’s Negan.” she nodded at him. He realised that she would often take a few seconds to come up with her answers. Was she always so deeply calculated and serious? She needed to lighten up a bit.

Or maybe this strictly rational and straight woman got send by Lucille, to combat his overly leisure self? Was this a lesson that he had to learn from? “I wasn’t a party person. I’m not the kind to let loose and act like a fool. I know how to have fun - My kind of fun - But I know my limits and where I draw the line.” she shrugged simply. “I get it. I get it, don’t worry. I won’t do that, so you can... Take a step back and chill out a bit. I’ve got this beautiful babe here with me - As dangerous as she’s beautiful, ain’t she? - And she’s gonna keep us both safe. Don’t worry about a thing~!” he raised his bat and patted it on his palm - For a split second, he could see her body tense as she gulped, straightening her back, trying to mask her fear. “That’s... Good. But we’ll need to find some more weapons pretty soon. And other supplies.” as if on cue, her stomach rumbled. Y/N’s eyes widened, before hugging herself and hanging her head down, no doubt blushing in embarrassment. For such a strict and unbending woman, she was easy to embarrass. How cute. Negan grinned at her, before taking some food and throwing it at her. “Must’ve been a while since you last ate, huh?” her hands were trembling softly, holding the food. “Go ahead. I’m giving it to you. Eat. You need to help me scavenge for supplies tomorrow, right?” “Th-Thanks...” she muttered. “Three days.” she said, slowly digging into the food - Small bites, to trick her brain into thinking her stomach is full. “It’s not that long... Sorry for that.” “Don’t apologise, chill a bit.” her hair was getting in the way, and no matter what she did, it would keep draping over her hair like a curtain. It was hilarious, but it was clearly uncomfortable. Negan wanted to laugh at her misfortune - But then, he remembered the little thing that he still had in his pocket. Long before Lucille found out about her cancer, she had the most beautiful, long, blonde hair, and whenever she’d be at home, she’d tie it up. Negan reached into his pants’ pocket and retrieved a black hair tie. It was really, the only thing he had left from Lucille.

‘Please don’t leave me like this ♡‘ don’t worry Lucille. Even if your body isn’t here anymore, you’re still the same kind, helpful soul that you’ve always been. “Here.” stealing a kiss to the hair tie as soon as the woman before him wasn’t looking, he handed the tie for her to take. She looked in awe at him and his kindness, no doubt. “Can’t be fun, eating more dirty hair than food. You’ll end up spitting fur balls like a cat.” “...Thanks...” she muttered, bashfully taking the tie and tying back her hair, revealing her beautiful, yet incredibly exhausted looking visage. She must be dying for a good sleep. What has she gone through, he wondered. “You really don’t need to do me so much good. I have nothing to give you back.” “I’m not asking for anything in return.” he reassured her in a calmer voice. “You must be tired. Go sleep. I’ll keep watch.” Y/N looked at him with a skeptical look. “What, you think I’m going to bash your skull in while you’re sleeping? At least it won’t hurt. Quick death. Better me than those fucks, right?” “No... It’s not that. It’s just... You’ve already been kind enough to me. I should stay watch.” Negan looked her in the eyes for a brief moment - Despite how exhausted she looked and how dirty her face was, her eyes still had a spark of life, and a very beautiful shade. “Don’t fret so much.” he muttered under his breath.

Y/N looked down and gulped the bit of bread and returned the remaining food to its rightful owner. She looked so awkward, Negan almost felt compelled to laugh at her, but he restrained himself. Instead, he patted her shoulder, urging her to come over and sit on the log, rest her head on his arm and sleep.

It felt uncomfortable for her, truly, but it was far better than laying on the dirty, cold, hard ground to sleep, or tying herself up on a branch and hoping she won’t fall off and end up walker food... Or a pinata. Albeit with a lethargic pace, Y/N ended up complying without another word, and unsurprisingly, as soon as she placed her head on his shoulder, Y/N fell asleep. Poor girl, Negan thought, watching her reach out her hands and gripping his arm, almost as if afraid he’d run away and abandon her, break his promise to her. She looked so vulnerable and afraid, now more than when she was awake. Judging from the way her chest was heaving up and down with ample, rapid motions, and how her fingers and arm joints would occasionally twitch, it was evident she was still very much alert.

Don’t worry, Y/N. I already abandoned someone like you before. I won’t do that again.

Without realising, Negan’s hand found itself caressing her hair slowly, but in a way, he almost felt as though he was trying to calm and sooth himelf, not her. He missed the feeling of touching Lucille’s hair, whenever she’d want to indulge herself, and she nuzzled herself to his side, expecting some pampering. If only things didn’t go to shit so quickly...

Lost in thoughts, the man didn’t hear the sound of twigs breaking - It was a mistake that he had already done once, and though it ended with an inoffensive party member, this time, he will learn that the biggest monsters aren’t the walkers, but the humans themselves.

Y/N jolted up as if electrocuted, and shuffled her feet away from Negan, looking around with wide, alert eyes, to spot the danger incoming. When he tried to speak, she immediately shushed him down. That’s when she saw a woman, afraid, running from the thicket, towards them. She was screaming for help, saying that there were two men trying to assault her or something. Negan was going to tell her to come over, to be protected - Surely, with Lucille in his hands, he could take down two stupid punks, right? Oh, how he hated stupid fuckers like those guys, thinking they could do whatever they want, especially now, in a lawless world.

To his surprise, however, Y/N, who was in a similar situation not long before, stopped the woman from approaching, and even threatened her. Her voice was harsh and awful, it shocked Negan. He was sure she would want to protect someone vulnerable and innocent, just like her.

From the deeper forest, two men, one with a knife, the other, a machete, came down like the huns, ready to chop them down into pieces and eat them for lunch. With great fear on her face, the victim ran towards them - But Y/N immediately threw a well-aimed jab at her face, making her fall down to the ground. “Y/N, what are you doing, she’s the victim!” he asked, looking with concern at her. “She’s as much of a fairy as those guys are. Get your weapon ready, they’re coming.” Y/N warned him - But he was stunned. How could a woman running away from those brutes be evil? The guy with the machete ran towards Y/N. “Well, well, lookie here~ Not only one, but TWO pretty girls to claim tonight~! What a great bounty, ‘aight, bro?” the two had ugly, crude laughs. With no warning, Negan watched in awe as Y/N chopped at his arm with her palm, before she threw a straight uppercut at his jaw, making him stumble backwards. Giving him no time to waste, she ducked down under his weapon arm and clung onto it, breaking the joint and stealing the weapon before decapitating the man. “WHAT THE FUCK?! J-JOHNNY?! Y-YOU FUCKING WHORE, YOU KILLED HIM! I’LL MAKE YOU PAY FOR THIS!” like a blind bull, the other offender rushed towards Y/N, and as he tried to slice at her face, she threw herself to the ground, rolling to his feet to trip him - As he stumbled on his feet, and Y/N made him fall on his stomach - She threw herself down on his back and broke his neck, making him fall limp. “I’ll be damned.” Negan grumbled to himself, completely mesmerised by the way a small, frail woman such as Y/N could pull off such neat and accurate combat moves. But unfortunately for him, that was his downfall - Not even once did he expect the victim to actually be one of the culprits, as Y/N so rightfully deduced, and before he knew it, the blonde woman dared touch HIS Lucille, and hold her with shaky hands and threaten him. “DON’T COME ANY CLOSER! Y-YOU! YOU MONSTER! YOU KILLED THEM! YOU KILLED THEM BOTH - MY BROTHERS! YOU KILLED THEM!” her voice now sounded so revenge-driven and awful, only to shake like a leaf as soon as she noticed Y/N raise to her feet, covered in the blood of her victims, a knife in one hand, and a machete in the other. “You think someone like you can take that guy down? You can’t even hold the bat. You’re useless - Not only that, you’re useless AND evil. Playing the victim just to bait us... It’s been two months since the Apocalypse started. I’ve seen them all. You’re just a pathetic little girl, that’s what you are. You have made the wrong move. You’re going to die now.” Y/N approached the two with a menacingly slow pace. “Don’t worry, Negan. I’ll protect you.” “STAY BACK! I-I’LL KILL HIM! I SWEAR I WILL!” the blonde shrieked her lungs out, her grip on the bat tightening to the point her skin looked bleach white. “Nah, girl, I don’t think you will.” at once, the man got ahold of his darling weapon and easily wrestled it out of her grip. “You know what they say - Goodnight America.” with one swift move, Negan bashed her skull in, her brains and blood spraying all over the camp. Negan grinned victoriously, as Y/N only scoffed, letting the weapons fall to the ground, her body following soon after. “That was a fiiiine fight you had, doll.” Negan chuckled, kicking the dead woman’s body away. “Didn’t think you had it in ya.” “I... I learnt some MMA. Before all this happened. I, uh... I had to.” she said, trying to even out her breathing. “Had to? What in the world would prompt you to learn MMA, of all things?” he barked in shock and amusement. “...A situation quite like this.” his smile fell immediately. “I know more theory than actual techniques, really. But I practiced Aikido, Silat and Systema. Well... You can make the argument that Aikido and Systema are mostly the same, just that one is Japanese and the other is Russian. But they’re pretty good for my frame. I can at least defend myself, even against jerks with weapons.” though her legs were shaking like two flowers in the spring breeze, she managed to get up and make her way to the fire. “I guess... Even bad things can lead to good ones... If you can even call it that.” “Don’t worry, doll, I won’t make that mistake again.” Negan reassured her, reaching out his hand to wipe away the blood from her face. “How’d you know she was in on it?” “... I didn’t. I just don’t trust anyone.” she mumbled. “You trust me.” Negan refuted. “You promised.” she said solemnly. “Promises meant nothing before, and they mean even less now.” he argued, but she simply shrugged her shoulders. “Why do you trust me?” “Because you said so.” she said simply. “That’s not a reason.” Negan gave her a half-smile. “...I told you, didn’t I? I can’t be alone. I’ll die. You’re the only one I have left. Whether you kill me or not, it doesn’t matter. I just don’t want to be alone anymore.” she explained, albeit reticent. “So... It’s not survival you care about, but not being lonely, huh?” she nodded. “Ha. Silly girl.” he snorted, only to see the dead face she had on her face. She almost seemed about to cry. She was too close to her breaking point, he realised. “...You’re not alone anymore.”

With a sigh, Negan felt Lucille slip from his grasp, as his arms wrapped around her body, pulling her into a tight embrace. He could feel he trembling, and her breathing had gotten ragged and uneven. “Go ahead and cry. You must’ve been through a lot. Cry all you want - Get it out of your system. It’ll help you sleep tonight. And in the morning, we can go get supplies and what not.” he reassured her, and at once, she heard the faintest, broken sob, as she buried her head in his chest. Negan guided her back to the log so her weakened legs wouldn’t give out, and he patted her hair, his chin resting on top of her head. He looked down at Lucille - Was this the right thing to do? He wasn’t moving on from her... He still loved Lucille so much... So, so much... He didn’t want to make her jealous anymore... But he was just reassuring a scared, lonely woman, right? Nothing wrong in doing that, considering the terrifying situation they’re in. “I promise I won’t leave you alone, Y/N.”

Lucille... You will have to forgive me. I’m so lonely... I can’t function properly without you... But I’m so, so lonely without you... Did you send Y/N to keep me company? To right the wrongs I’ve done to you? Is this my redemption?

“You act all tough and strong, but you’re really just a little crybaby, Y/N.” Negan muttered in her hair. “But that’s fine. You’re a woman. It’s the man’s job to protect you against monsters of all kind.” what she was feeling, he couldn’t know, and probably never will. But it was fine. He failed his wife once, disregarding her feelings. He won’t make the same mistake again. He let a woman sully her hands, her soul, all to protect him. No more. He was going to be the deadbeat failure of a husband no more.

Negan is here.

As promised, he allowed her to sleep for as long as she needed, up to the point that she woke up naturally, and felt refreshed. Maybe, at least a little bit. He remembers those studies that claimed a lost night of sleep can be solved with a week of proper amount of sleep - But they couldn’t afford such luxury anymore. Together, they travelled aimlessly through the abandoned city, wondering at how quickly a place can turn so... Dilapidated, as if it hasn’t been inhabited in centuries.

Too many close calls, too many walkers, and far too many dangers. It was dangerous being just two people, but it would have been just as dangerous in a bigger group also. But it was fine - They could live on and thrive together pretty well. They were even able to eat once every two days, and drink good water.

Weeks passed by weirdly fast - Or at least, they thought those were weeks, not months, based on the amount of times they fell asleep, and remembered to count. Surely, they must have missed a few times, there was only so much they could do, and even the daily routine they tried so hard to cling onto, the last string of hope that kept them associated to humanity, to their old life - Even that was close to breaking.

But the more nights passed, the more conversations at the roasting fire they had. It was the time Negan loved the most, and really, just about the only thing that gave him any joy whatsoever anymore. Even the pain of being torn apart from the love of his life so violently seemed to ameliorate bit by bit, all thanks to the conversations he had with this woman. Somehow, he kept him grounded to real life, and had him going on without any thought of giving up.

Here and there, they talked about their lives before this all happened. Negan felt absolutely humiliated. Not only was he the biggest dead beat in the world, but hearing the woman speak of her hard work and all the sacrifices she’s made to get to the top and achieve the career of her dreams, it felt motivational, but also fatalistic and depressing. All her life, she’s done nothing but study and work, for that one day, when she finds a partner, they can travel the world together and live a beautiful, happy life.

It reminded him of himself with Lucille in a way. He should have worked hard and provided for her too. He should have made her life a beautiful dream, not a nightmare. Should have spoiled her with all the most luxurious gifts, and brought her to all the lush, exotic vacation trips. Alas... All he did was play video games all day. What a pitiful, useless excuse for a man he is.

No, he has to do better. Be better.

Still, no matter how much they talked about their lives, neither of them dared touch the topic of their private life. Family, partner... Nothing. It’s as if they both knew it was such a sensitive topic that they were afraid to touch upon it.

“Hey, Negan, come over. Let’s check this one out.” Y/N motioned for the man to come over as soon as she was able to find a way inside the abandoned house. It still looked decent and fairly well kept, even from the outside.

The two slowly crept inside - It was rather clean, save for some accumulated dust, and with a single walker inhabiting the home, they decided to make it their temporary residence, for as long as they could, at least. The small house even had running water - Was this a miracle?

Stashed away in the basement, they found a ton of canned food rations, and even water and alcohol of all kinds. They hit the jackpot. After eating some, Y/N went first to take a long and very welcomed bath while Negan stood watch, then they reversed the roles. Thankfully, they even had some nice clothes left behind by the old owners of the house. Fresh as a daisy.

After securing the perimeter, the two sat down in the living room, as per the ritual of having conversations by the fire, yet now, they chatted over a glass of wine and whiskey specifically. The quiet didn’t last long between the two, as Negan, as always, was the one to speak up first. “So, you’re not looking for anyone? No family, no friends - Nothing?” Y/N shook her head. “Come on, really? I don’t believe you.” “Believe what you want.” she shrugged. “I never really had friends. I mean... One of them was an online friend, across the ocean. We’ve never met. The other, well... She was too busy with her own family. We kinda lost touch after a while. It was all me.” he didn’t miss the bitter tone that rolled off her tongue. “Okay, fine, I get that. I didn’t have either. But what about your boyfriend?” she shook her head. “What, didn’t make it?” she shook her head. “I didn’t have any.” Negan was speechless. “I didn’t want to waste my time on good for nothing men.” that sentence alone seemed to shoot a poisoned arrow through his heart. “In the end... I was wrong in wanting someone good for myself. It’s pitiful.” she scoffed. “What’s the point in working so hard, if you end up miserable anyway?” was this how Lucille felt, having him as her husband? A good for nothing, worthless excuse of a man? She deserved better than this. “N’aww, don’t say that, doll. You’re a fine lady. Beautiful, smart, diligent. Incredibly bad at social interacting.” Y/N let out an amused scoff. “And what has that helped me with?” Negan remained quiet. “It was just me and my parents, and my dog... But thankfully, my dog died last year. Didn’t have to put the poor old lady through this mess. Mum died of cancer, dad followed soon after, from a broken heart. Left me all alone.” Y/N sighed. “It sucks, you know. You see how much your mum and dad loved each other, but you can’t find someone like that. It’s stupid.” she gulped down the whole wine glass in one go. Negan had his head down - This whole talk turned far more somber than expected. She’s lost as much as he did, and more. “Lucille was my wife.” he admitted. “She was... The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Smart, charming, charismatic, funny, kind, understanding. Everything anyone could ask for.” he stroked the bat lovingly, flashes of his wife’s smile flashing before his eyes. “She... Was diagnosed with cancer too, a little before the world went to shit. Used to go bring her chemo bags, and wigs in bright colours of all kinds. She was always so cheerful.” after a few seconds of silence, Negan gulped. “On the last run, I found her dead in her bed. She had killed herself. Didn’t want to be a liability to me, as she put it. Silly woman. She was too good for me. She deserved better.” “She loved you, Negan. It doesn’t matter whether she deserved better or not. If you felt she deserved better, you should have done better. But she stayed by your side. She loved you for who you are. You two were happy together. And it’s evident, how much you still love her, even now.” Negan couldn’t help but let out an amused breath - He didn’t have the heart to point out that he cheated on the love of his life and caused her immense misery, when she needed him the most. He couldn’t shatter her dreams of a love written in the stars... Nor did he want to be reminded of the shit mistakes he did. “Well, aren’t you the romantic one.” he tried to divert the conversation to her, rather than himself. “Whatever men you dated in the past, must have been really happy. Poor bastards, didn’t live up to the expectations. Pathetic.” “...I’d... Rather not... Talk about that.” the way her fingers clutched tightly the wine glass, and the grimace on her face, made Negan thing that she didn’t have pink experiences. Life ain’t always sunshine and daisies, even for the nicest of people. “I... Need another drink. Do you want some more whiskey too?” Y/N got up, picking the two glasses after his approval nod, and waltzed into the kitchen.

From back at the living room, the loud noise of glass breaking echoed. “Negan? You okay?” Y/N called out, pouring the booze and walking back towards the cozy room. There, instead of finding her companion sprawled over the couch, she instead found him kneeling on the ground, blood leaking down his forehead, and a man was holding a gun to his head. “...Oh.” Negan could see the terrified look in her eyes. She really was afraid of men, wasn’t she? Rightfully so. Men are monsters - He knew that best, after all. “Behind you!” he called out - but it was too late. The other culprit had been waiting just around the corner, and his arms wrapped tightly around her body, immobilizing her. The two glasses shattered to the ground as she struggled and clawed her way out, but it was to no avail. No amount of combat techniques could prepare her for getting clinched like that. “Hahaha, look what fine bounty! Who’d have thought!” the one holding her said, knife to her throat, so deep into her skin that droplets of red inked her down to her shirt, staining everything in its path. “Kill that fucker, and when you’re done, come join the fun.” “NO!” Y/N shouted desperately. “Don’t kill him! P-Please, don’t kill him!” she heaved, careful not to get her neck sliced even more. “I-I’ll do whatever you want! I’ll even show you all our ration, a-and tell you supply centers around the place that haven’t been raided! Just please, don’t kill him!” Both men laughed, ugly, nasty grins on their faces. “Aww, how cute! Lil’ bitch thinks she can order us around~! Ain’t that adorable?” one of them said. “He yo’ husband or what?” neither of the victims said anything. “Haaa, he sure is her lil’ fucktoy! Well! If you love him so much... Might as well give him a little present. We give you a lil’ bastard child, and he gets to hear your sweet little cries. Oh, he’s gonna LOVE it!” “You speak too much, man. I’ll keep watch. Just go get it over with. Send the bitch over when you’re done. I want her little lover boy to watch as I fuck his pretty, little girl, over and over again.” that one continued with the nasty speech for so long that Negan was sure he could see Y/N fainting, just a little.

Y/N’s struggling came to an end, after the one holding her punched her face hard enough to tame her down, and with one hand buried deep in her hair, he threw her out of the room, and onto the ground, then straddled her waist, bringing her wrists together and binding them with a burning rope, in front of her body. With his knife, he split her shirt in two, followed by the last piece of fabric covering her chest. “I always had a thing for blood, y’know. Red suits you well, pretty bird. Now sing for me a sweet thrill, loud enough for that guy to hear you.”

In his attempt to remove her pants, clumsy as he was, he had to put down the knife and use both hands - It was the perfect opportunity for her to throw her arms around his neck, and using the legs around his waist to shift positions, enough to use the rope and hands to strangle him to death. As he was struggling to breath, Y/N started screaming and pretending to sob - It was the perfect cover, as her breathing was heavy, and her voice broken anyway. When finally, the assailant was unconscious, Y/N quickly took the knife and shoved it in his skull. She then looked down at herself, and though embarrassment was too light a word for the way she was presenting herself, she took off her jeans and hid the knife in the sleeve of her long cardigan, keeping her hands tied.

Meekly, she tripped over her feet, stumbling pitifully, painfully, all an act. Tears were running continuously down her face, and her expression was outright horrified and hopeless. “Awww, look at you! This look suits you better, y’know. C’mon now, get on your knees. Show me what you do to this man to keep him staying with you.” the nasty words the fucker was saying almost went unheard by Negan - All he could focus on was the broken state of the woman he swore to protect, yet failed once again. Once again, he lets down the only person that matters in his life anymore. Lucille was gone... And now... Y/N... He thought they would be safe here, in this house. He let his guard down. He was caught off guard. He couldn’t win with his bat against a gun.

There was nothing that Negan hated more than men taking advantage of women - He wanted to strangle the life out of this fucker. No, even better. Beat him to death. Bash his skull in. Make him suffer. Rip his dick off and shove his balls down his throat. Anything, for revenge. Anything, to save Y/N from this suffering.

He watched her slowly approaching, her head lowering before the man holding him hostage. Her whole body was trembling violently, but she didn’t go down. She just stood there, so very close to him. “Come on, bitch, get down.” the fucker quickly undid the button of his jeans and zipped them down, then put his hand on her head, gripping a tight fistful of her messy hair, no doubt trying to push her down - But she lunged forward. With a hidden weapon, she stabbed her assailant in the stomach, wide enough to spill his guts out, as if it was a dishonored samurai committing seppuku, only to have his head stabbed also.

“They’re... Really... Not that smart...” Y/N scoffed, stumbling backward and awkwardly cutting the rope holding her wrists together. “Damn, it left burns.” she muttered, staring down at her red, pained skin. As if remembering about his existence, Y/N shifted her gleaming eyes at Negan. “Are you hurt?” she asked, noticing the bound hands, and crouching to liberate him also. “Sorry it took so long. That guy took longer to suffocate than I imagined.” she muttered, turning around, knife slipping from her grasp. “Don’t ask ME if I’m hurt -- Y/N, what the hell, I --” Negan got up to his feet, and looked down at the broken woman standing in front of him. “I’m fine.” she cut him off. “It’s... Not the first time... I’ve dealt with this.” she shrugged, though she tried to appear unbothered, it didn’t work much. “Only this time, I was able to retaliate before anything could happen.” the implication made his head swim, but he had to keep himself grounded and act accordingly. It wasn’t he who needed comfort and help, but her. Though he protected her against hoards of walkers on end... It was still the humans that he couldn’t get a handle on.

Things really had to change, and fast, before another incident such as this happens again. “Come ‘ere, doll. Ain’t no way I’m letting a pretty princess like yourself walk around this dirty house like that.” Negan spoke light-hearted, as he picked her up bridal style... Just like he did to Lucille when he carried her home after their wedding... And he brought her to her room, carefully placing her on the bed. He couldn’t help but steal a glance at her eyes - Wide, surprised, and wet from the tears she spilled. If only he could make any reason that could make her cry disappear. He hated seeing her upset. He wanted to see her smile only. She had a beautiful smile.

Negan opened the wardrobe wide and threw some clothes at her, before going to the bathroom to take the medical kit and wet some towels to take care of her wounds. “It’s... Not that big of a deal, really. You... You don’t... Need to.” she bashfully looked away - She looked so adorable, with those large clothes swallowing her whole. “Stop worrying so much over silly things, doll.” he flashed her one of those charming, dazzling smiles of his. “It’s the least I can do after you’ve saved me. Again.” he said. “I’m pretty shit at keeping you safe, huh. You’d do much better without me.” “Shut up.” she gritted her teeth. “Don’t say that.” she warned. “I don’t...” she hesitated for a little. “I don’t want to go out there, alone. Not again.” “Oh, I’m not complaining about that, doll. In fact, it works well for me, I’d say. Great company is always welcomed.” he didn’t dare try to joke about how pretty she was anymore - Not after the course of filth those two spewed her way. She must have cringed into eternity. Even now, it was obvious how uncomfortable his touch felt. She was going to awkward-herself into an early grave. Still, he couldn’t quite understand why she wouldn’t loosen up around him. Maybe that’s just how she was. Always stern and strict, always cold and guarded, and bound by some impossibly strict personal rules. But it was fine. He liked her just the way she was. “Uh... Thanks.” she nodded. “I... Also... Like your companionship.” Negan couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re really shit at chatting, y’know that, right?” Y/N nodded pitifully. “But that’s fine. Nothing wrong with that. I’m sociable enough for the both of us. Keep being yourself, and I’ll deal with everything else around, a’ight?” Y/N gave him a small smile, cringing a bit at the stinging sensation of the antiseptic touching her neck wound. “Alright, Negan. I trust your word.” she spoke in a whispery tone. “...Hey, Negan?” she timidly called out his name, as he watched him put the med kit away. “Yeah, doll?” “Uhm... D-Do you, uhm...” Y/N gulped, her gaze down on the ground. “Do you think that I could... That I could... W-Well...” “Don’t be so afraid of asking me for something, Y/N. I’m not the big bad wolf. I won’t bite you.” he urged her to speak. “Can I sleep with you tonight?” she finally blurted out, surprising the man with her uncharacteristic request. “I... I can’t sleep at night. At all. I keep waking up as soon as I’ve fallen asleep. I have nightmares and panic attacks and... I just... I’m afraid to stay by myself.” so honest, Negan was speechless. The lack of response made Y/N clear her throat. “Sorry, forget I asked, that was childish. You can go sleep now. Goodnight, Negan.” Y/N wanted to claw her face from embarrassment, but finally the man saved her from doing just that. “No, no - Doll, it’s not childish. We’re in hell. Everyone is afraid. I get ya. I’m afraid too, you know? But it’s fine. We’ve got each other, right?” he extended his hand for her to take. With great reticence, Y/N gingerly placed her hand over his, and was guided to his room. After the proper invitation, Y/N went to settle on the large bed, glued to the corner of the room, and huddled against the wall. “Most people fight over the edge-half of the bed.” “I never liked that half. I never felt safe. I could never sleep properly.” she admitted. “Took a while to get used to a bed in the middle of the room, with no protective wall next to it. It was awful.” “So this is a thing from before Hell, huh?” Y/N nodded in shame. “S’okay, don’t be so ashamed of that. Nobody likes being alone, after all. Besides, there’s many fears that lone women have to live with. Can’t blame ya, especially after what just happened.” Negan discarded his jacket on the chair and sat on the edge of the bed. “But you don’t have to fear anymore. For better or for worse, Negan’s here, and I won’t let anyone hurt you again, okay, Y/N?” “...Yeah. That’s right.” she smiled gratefully at him, watching him lay down in bed, before extending his arm towards her, and he looked at her somewhat expectingly, but she had no idea why. “Come over. I’ll play with your hair. I know you like it.” he urged her. “I’ll even throw a lil’ song for you. Or a story. How’s that sound?” “Skip the story, it will keep me awake. But remember it tomorrow, for coffee.” she dragged herself over, trying not to let her tachycardia known. “Wouldn’t mind the song though.” she said, already feeling her lashes fall onto each other from drowsiness, as his hand worked magic caressing her hair. “Now that’s more like it.” his low chuckle vibrating in his chest sent rumbles to her senses. It was such a soothing resonance, his voice was addicting and so calming. She felt so safe, listening to him, that she had no idea when the song ended, or when it even started, for she fell into a deep, restful sleep. And Negan couldn’t help but watch, her face nuzzled into the crook of his neck, her smaller hand still clutching onto his shirt for reassurance that he wouldn’t just disappear.

Would Lucille be disappointed in him, for moving on so quickly? He’ll still love her - To the end of his existence, and back, so she needn’t be jealous. He’d never cheat again. But... She wasn’t there with him anymore. Y/N was. And Y/N was a good woman. Surely, Lucille would be happy that he was able to find someone that could mend together with perfect sutures his broken heart. Someone that is as broken as he is, just, in different ways. Lucille wouldn’t hate him, would she? Not for this. He deserves all her wrath for all the wrongs he’s done to her - But not for this. He needed this, as much as a man lost in the desert needed a drop of water. It wasn’t easy, attempting to make a move on Y/N without scaring her away. She was like a limping dear, or a starving fox - Wanting to approach, but too afraid to, though she masked it well enough with that proper etiquette facade of hers.

Whether she wanted him as a lover or not, her mere presence was enough, at least. He felt content, even like this. It was fine. It was perfect, just like this. During the day, they’d scavenge around for supplies, and at night, they’d chat until they felt sleepy - And then, they’d go sleep - Together also, now.

But Y/N seemed to have quite the agitated sleep - Was she having a nightmare, Negan wondered. His arms tightened around her body, hoping that, whatever scary thing she was dreaming of, will just disappear, or that at least he will appear there, her knight in shining armor, to rescue her. Instead of calming down, however, small, soft sobs could be heard for just a brief time, before Y/N jolted up with a cry of anguish. Though the room was dark, her trembling outline was shined on by the moonlight. She looked so fragile, so small... So hopeless.

And then, with desperation, she jumped off and lunged for the bathroom door. Negan could hear the frantic sound of vomiting. Whatever it was she had dreamt of must have caused her great distress. “Doll? May I come in?” he knocked on the half-opened door, but instead of words, he heard a thump, as if she fell to the ground, and more sobs. Though uninvited, Negan opened the door properly, and slowly knelt by her side. “Oh, doll, what the hell did you dream of to make you this afraid?” his voice was uncharacteristically soft and soothing, in a low undertone, to attempt and calm her down. “Talk to me, Y/N.” with careful moves, Negan gathered the woman into his arms and cradled her to his chest, holding her tightly and kissing her hair. “Talk to me.” “I-I... I... I dreamt that y-you... That you left. S-Said that you hate me. C-Can’t... Can’t stand me... Anymore. I-I don’t w-want you to hate me. Or leave me. Please don’t leave me... Not like this... Please don’t leave me like this, Negan.” at once, his body stiffened, and flashes of the painted walls of his house went before his very eyes. Though the connotation was entirely different from what his Lucille meant when she wrote that, those words pained him no less. “I would never leave the person I love so much, Y/N.” he said that to Lucille once, and now, he said it to Y/N. Though the timing couldn’t be any worse, there was no other way he knew how to reassure her - And frankly, he did want to voice his feelings, once and for all, whatever may happen. After all, it wasn’t a lie, he did grow to love Y/N. Though she would never replace Lucille - She didn’t have to. Lucille had her own special spot in his heart, and Y/N has her own. She’s not a replacement, she’s a woman that Negan grew so very fond of. He’s made enough mistakes throughout his life, and he took his wife for granted for far too long a time. He would not make that mistake again. “Do you hear me, Y/N? I won’t leave you. I promise. And even if something happens and we’re separated - Just call out my name, okay? Call out my name, and I’ll be there for you, and I’ll say - Negan’s here! And you’ll flash me that pretty smile of yours, and will run to give me a hug, and say how much you missed me. How’s that sound?” he could feel her sniffling soften out, unlike her fingers, which clutched down even harder on the thin material of his pyjama shirt. “Y-You... You really love... Someone like me? But I’m pathetic.” her voice was barely above a whisper, yet just enough to convey the brokenness of her heart. “Now, missy, I’ll have you know, I don’t really appreciate people speaking ill of the people I love.” he warned her. The soft sound of an amused exhale made Negan’s heart make a leap. “You really mean it? You promise you do?” “Trust my words, doll. I never lied to you, and I don’t intend to start now.” carefully laxing his grip on her body, his hands found themselves cupping her face, and wiping away the streaming tears. “I’m not going to leave you alone. I love you, doll.” he leaned down, capturing her lips with his own, in a gentle, loving kiss. Somehow, it felt that, this kiss, the feelings behind it, they all made the dystopian world outside disappear altogether, and normality was back in place. Nothing bad could happen to them - They were protected by a divine aura - or something. “I love you so much, Negan.” she pulled him back into an embrace, and though she didn’t speak loud and clear, as his own declaration, her whispering the confession so dearly into his ear, somehow made it even more intimate.

If only things could remain as innocent and beautiful - It wasn’t possible though. Nobody was safe from the Apocalypse, from the misery and suffering of the world. Less than a month they spent in that house, before a hoard of walkers overrun the area, and Y/N and Negan had to run away, in split directions. They had set a meeting point, back at their spot. Barely a day after being away from each other, Negan returned to the small camp close to the street, and he waited for a whole night also, only to curse loudly and destroy an already broken car with his bat - He had just remembered her shit orientation in space. She could be 10 meters away from this place, and she’d end up going in the opposite direction. Silly girl, how will she survive all by herself out there?! She didn’t even have her cardigan with her, due to the speed with which they had to leave. It was going to get cold soon, and she’ll freeze the night away. How will she survive all alone out there? People and walkers alone were a huge threat, and she behaved like a wounded wild animal. She can’t stay alone. Not her. Not his Y/N. Not his doll. “Y/N!!! DOLL, IT’S NEGAN! COME HERE! NEGAN’S HERE, BABE!!” but no matter how much he tried to call out for her, she just didn’t appear.

Three days passed, and there was no trace of Y/N. Negan was becoming desperate. Y/N must have died by now... Still, if she somehow finds this place, he will leave the zipper hoodie he was wearing underneath his leather jacket. Hopefully, it will be her who finds it, not some other fucker... Or worse, a walker.

He had to get back out there and live. He promised Lucille, and he promised Y/N too, that no matter what, he will live and carry on, no matter how much it hurt, leaving behind not one, but two women that he grew to love so much. His heart was mended once, only to become ripped and mauled into microscopic pieces once again. Damn it, he shouldn’t have allowed himself to fall in love so easily. Just three months together, and he falls so hard for her... Damn it, doll. Please don’t be dead.

Almost three years passed, and the old Negan was nowhere to be seen - Instead, the boy that was once a highschool bully had returned, and Negan was now the leader of the Saviours, six hundred people, scattered around several outposts. He had lieutenants, he had a right hand, and not enough ‘wives’. On the off-chance that he makes the mistake of accidentally remembering his real past wives, Lucille and Y/N, the idea that some women that are nothing but some pretty faces to warm his bed felt almost uncomfortable. But it was fine. He had no more room for suffering in his body - Killing and fucking was all he had left in this fucked up world. Maybe cursing too - But Y/N always cringed when he’d curse or yell, so he kept himself at bay... For as much as he could.

Now, he didn’t care about anything anymore. Nothing matter, except for his own survival, and the longevity of his group of Saviours. He dominated every community around, and he was the supreme leader, the Caesar at the Colosseum.

For the longest time, there was nobody who dared contest his rule - Almost three whole years, he was the King of the Jungle, overruling even the mighty Lion - Hell, he was above even Zeus himself - And then, those pesky fuckers came over and killed a bunch of his people - Innocent, normal people too, all that while they were asleep. Bullshit. As if he was going to leave that unpunished. Those fuckers were going to pay, tenfold. A hundredfold, at least. Fifty-six of his own people were dead. There will be hell to pay.

That night, Rick’s group was walking through the woods, holding Maggie’s exhausted, sick, and very pregnant body, only to get caught in a trap. From all over the the forest, ominous whistles echoed eerily, creeping them out, alerting them of the enemies they’ve walked into. They had to run the hell away from there before they got caught.

But it was far too late for an escape... They were caught by tens and tens... Or maybe there were a hundred people there, surrounding them? All of them with weapons of all kinds, and even cars. They were forced to give up their weapons, and got to their knees - From other cars, Glenn, Michonne and Daryl, all beaten up, were thrown to the ground also. This ugly guy with a rat instead of a moustache, the one who ordered them around, knocked on the RV and invited someone to come out, as if he was welcoming the Celebrity of the Night, the Guest of Honour, to walk down the red carpet and have his picture taken, in the spotlight.

Negan stepped out - The Man of the Night was ready to instill his revenge on the fuckers who dared cross his path and defy his ultimate authority. To think all of this happened to Rick’s group, because they tried to get to the Hilltop, find a doctor to medicate poor Maggie... Rick looked around, counting the people, only to realise - One of them was missing. Maybe she escaped? Hopefully, she did. At least her - Though, with all of them trapped here, there was little she could do by herself. Or, perhaps she could go and be welcomed, all by herself, to either Alexandria, or the Hilltop. Maybe even the Kingdom? Oceanside? Any community worked.

“Pissed your pants yet?” the man with the bat asked, with a sarcastic, dry chuckle. He meant business. He was a true threat, merely with his presence alone. No doubt, he was the leader of the Survivors, Rick realised quickly. They were screwed. “Boy, do I have a feeling we’re getting close.” he said, finally stepping into the light. He was tall, and well built. Rick knew, even if he were to brawl with him, he’d be at a disadvantage. “Yep.” the man walked across the line the eleven of them made. “Gonna be Pee-Pee-Pants City here real soon.” was he going to bash them all down with that bat of his? “Which one of you pricks is the leader?” he asked. Simon immediately pointed his nasty, crooked finger at the ex-policeman. “It’s that guy. He’s the one.” “Hi.” Negan looked down at Rick, lazily stepping in front of him. “You’re Rick, right?” rhetorical, as always. “I’m Negan. And I do not appreciate you killing my men. Also, when I sent my people to kill your people, for killing my people - You killed MORE of my people! NOT cool! Nooot cool! You have no idea how NOT cool that shit is. But! I think you’re gonna be up to speed shortly.” Rick gulped in fear, looking up at the enemy. “Yeah. You’re SO gonna regret crossing me in a few minutes.” he grinned. “Yes, you are~♪.” he said, in a singy voice. “You see, Rick - Whatever you do, no matter what - You don’t mess with the new world order. New world order is this, and it’s really, very simple - So, even if you’re stupid, which you very may well be, you can understand it. You ready? Here it goes, pay attention.” Negan lowered his bat, pointing the end of it to his face, raising it slightly. “Give me your shit, or I will kill you.” he removed the bat, and smiled. “Today was Career Day. We invested a lot, so you would know who I am and what I can do. You work for me now. You have shit, you give it to me - That’s your job.” Rick couldn’t help but look up, frightened, not for his life, but everyone else’s - Especially Carl’s. “Now, I know there is a mighty big, nasty pill to swallow... But swallow it, you most certainly will. You ruled the roost. you built something. You thought you were safe - I get it - But, the word is out. You... Are NOT safe. Not even close. In fact - You are pegged. More pegged, if you don’t do what I want, and what I want is half your shit. And if that’s too much, you can make, find or steal more, and it’ll even out, sooner or later. “ this fucking bastard spoke too much, for what he was worth. “This - Is your way of life now. The more you fight back, the harder it will be. So, if someone knocks on your door, you let us in.” he chuckled. “We OWN that door.” he stated. “You try to stop us, and we will knock it down. You understand?” nobody dared utter even a shaky breath. “What? No answer?” Negan comically approached Rick, his hand to his ear. “You don’t really think that you were gonna get through this without being punished now, did you?” all at once, everyone’s hearts stopped beating. “I don’t want to kill you, people - Just want to make that clear from the get-go. I want you to work for me. You CAN’T do that if you’re dead, now, can you?” surely, it can’t be that simple, can it? “I’m not growing a garden... But! You KILLED my people. A whole damn lot of them - More than I’m comfortable with! And for that, you’re gonna pay... So now... I’m gonna beat the holy hell out of one of you.” the resolution had finally come to light. “This - Is Lucille. And SHE is AWESOME.” Negan showed off his bat. “All~ this. ALL this is just so we can pick out which one of you gets the honour.”

Negan walked from one light to the other, visualising the victims. One of the women was close to crying, and her health looked to be in poor condition. She couldn’t even stay still, kneeling on the ground. The other, a military man, looked up at him with tough, defiant eyes. Intriguing. Then, came a boy with a cowboy had and a bandage over one side of his face. He crouched in front of him, and though the kid tried to stay cool, the fear was obvious on his face. When he went back to look at the crying woman, the Asian had an emotional outburst - It was hilariously pathetic - But he was benevolent! Negan was going to let that one slide, for free! And he had even more fun, pointing his bat back at the kid, once he realised that was Rick’s kid, of all things!

“JUST STOP IT!” Rick growled pitifully. “HEY! Do NOT make me kill the little, future serial killer. Don’t make it easy on me! I got to pick SOMEBODY! Everybody’s at the table, waiting for me to order.” he started whistling, going back and forth, looking at the people. “I simply cannot decide!” he chuckled. “But I got an idea!” and he started pointing his bat at each and every one of those people. “Eenie- Meenie, Miney, Mo” he’d linger just enough to make everyone have small heart attacks. Seeing them crying, shivering, trembling, desperate, hopeless or even hopeful that they may escape the attack, that another will take the death for them. Something, anything.

People were SO tragic.

“Anybody moves, cut the boy’s other eye out and feed it to his father, and then we’ll start.” Negan ordered, finally picking his unfortunate target. “You can breathe, you can blink, you can cry - Hell, you’re ALL gonna be doing that.” everyone shrieked in horror, watching the victim take the first hit to the head, with all of the enemy’s might. “Oh, ho, wowieee, look at ya, taking it like a champ!” One more, and another, and many, many more, until Abraham’s head was nothing but perfectly minced mush. Everyone was in complete disbelief at the terror they’d just witnessed - It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. It didn’t make sense. Abraham - Dead? No way. Negan stopped destroying the already dead remains that became nothing but a stain of blood on the pebbled ground, and went around, taunting everyone with his bloody bat. Surely, there remained some hanging scraps of Abraham, still dangling from the barbed wire. The last bit of their friend, and it was on the monster’s weapon, no less. “LOOK AT IT!” Negan laughed, watching with sadistic pleasure as Rosita was trembling and sobbing violently - only to stumble backwards, punched in the face by the redneck who was once wrapped in a blanket. He watched as Daryl was being wrestled down by his own people, like an angry, raging bull, and he crouched down, grabbing a fistful of the idiot’s hair. It was the time for another divine punishment. He warned them once - He did, he was nice! He even gave them a freebie! But not anymore. No exceptions. Because of Dixon’s angry outburst, they were, once again, in the free line of fire.

Before he could get a good look at those pathetic fuckers kneeling before him, and choosing another victim, a shrill shriek, feminine, resounded desperately somewhere through the forest. Rick stiffened. Damn it, why now, of all times? Couldn’t she choose a better time to find their location? What’s the use of being directionally impaired, if you’re gonna find the group at the worst possible time ever?

“What was that?” Negan asked, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. “Another... Friend of yours? Did we miss one?” he chuckled, crouching down by Rick’s side - The Policeman was speechless. Though he remained silent, the sound of echoing bullets was getting closer to their location, and rapid footsteps were getting right in the enemy’s trap, like a butterfly caught in the spider’s web. “That was a woman, alright. I know a woman screaming when I hear one.” Negan pointed out. “She pretty?” he smirked. “She your girlfriend, maybe? Is that why you’re quiet?”

As he signaled for Dwight and another one of his bigass brutes to get in position and grab the surprise guest, he heard the rapid breathing - She must have been running for a while now. “Rick!! Hoard -- Hoard coming! They’re coming, Rick!” a hoard, coming over? Good information. Perhaps he might just spare this one, for the sake of her own stupidity. She came over willingly, after all. “RUN, IT’S A TRAP!” Rick yelled back at her, but it was far to late - The hulking man grabbed her, earning a squeak of surprise - She was held up in the air, only to be forcefully thrown to the ground. “NEGAN!” her soft voice sounded raw as she called out that name, as though she was expecting some kind of God to come over and magically save her. Negan, she said. How did she know that name?

The party watched their friend’s body roll to the ground, still for a few second, only to unexpectedly jump, and with a masterfully planned trip, she brought down the big guy, and when faced with Dwight’s crossbow, she had her hands up in a sign she gave up, only for them to realise that she had waited for the big guy to get up and rush to her, so that she could swiftly side-stepped the crossbow, get behind Dwight and force him to shoot his ally’s shoulder, while she put a knife to his neck, using him as the perfect human shield.

Negan’s eyes widened in shock and delight, and he whistled, impressed by the woman’s feat. He even applauded. “Well, I’ll be damned! What a masterful performance! I’m impressed - Really, I am! A woman, taking down two of my men like that, with nothing but her bare arms? Ha! I want you for a bodyguard, ma’am! In fact - You remind me of someone very dear to me, y’know? She could pull badass stunts like that.” he then turned to Rick. “Where’d you find such a fine woman, Rick? Were you the one who taught her to say my name like that~?” “Rick... Wh-What’s going on?” unlike the strength and prowess she displayed, her voice was unexpectedly quivering and broken... And awfully familiar. “I’ll tell you what happened, doll - If you let me get a good look at your pretty face. I mean - Not that I can really see you, you know, but I’ve just got this feeling that you’re a real doll, but that messy, big ass hair of yours is getting in the way of my admiring.” Negan chuckled, swinging Lucille around in circle-motions, only to hear the woman gasp, and the knife fell out of her hand. Negan stopped in his tracks, confused by her sudden moment of weakness - Not only that, she even allowed Dwight to get out of her grasp. “Lucille...? Negan...?” the woman spoke out those names, and Negan froze, his mouth slightly agape - Now it all made sense. That large, dirty blue hoodie she was wearing, the one that almost completely swallowed her whole - It was the hoodie that he left for her, years ago. “Y/N...? Now way!” slowly, the woman lifted the hair to reveal her face - It wasn’t as dirty as the first time he met her, but she was just as exhausted, and even more scared, if it was possible. “That’s right - Negan’s here, doll!” he let his bloody weapon hit the ground, extending his arms, and at once, Y/N ran to him, throwing herself into his embrace. “I thought you were dead - This can’t be... Are you, really?! You’re alive?! I’m not dead, am I? Or dreaming?” with a kiss, he shushed her down. “Did that feel real to you, hun?” her blush was still as adorable as always. No doubt, even after so long, she hadn’t gotten over that extreme embarrassment of hers. No matter, it was all fine. She was back. Y/N was really back. “Y-Yeah... B-But, Negan - What’s going on? I-I don’t understand what’s going on.” with one hand, he wiped away the stray tears falling down her pretty face, only to turn her around and hug her from behind, making her see the group. “Were you with them, Y/N?” he rested his chin on her head, and he felt the small motions of a nod. “Y-Yeah. A few weeks after we lost each other, I... I found Rick’s group, and they were nice enough to take me in. Been staying with them ever since.” she explained, confused as why was everyone in such despair. Then, she saw the large splatter of blood, and the familiar, ravished clothes laying there. “N-Negan... Wh-What’s that...?” “That, my dear, used to be one of your group. Too bad - He was a real man, that one. Muscles and all. Took a real one for the team. Or maybe six. Or seven. Or more. I lost count after a while.” he felt her body stiffen up. “Don’t be too upset, now, Y/N - You were the one who taught me how to kill people, weren’t you? Three years ago, when all shit hit the fan? Remember that night, with those guys attacking us? You said - Killing people is fine, as long as you’re defending yourself. And I did just that!” he placed a kiss on her temple. “You see - Rick’s group here - I mean, you might know about it already - But, Rick’s group killed not one, not two, not three - But fifty-six people. MY people. So - Of course, I took that as an act of war, and instilled my revenge. But you know me, Y/N, I’m a merciful man. I only took the life of one of them.” “B-But... There must be a mistake! Everyone - Everyone here... They’re good people! It must be a misunderstanding! Please, let’s not fight each other anymore!” she tried to beg him, only to feel everyone’s eyes fixated on her. “Rick’s people killed my people, doll. And I sent a few others to kill them - But Rick’s group killed them too, and a bunch more! I can’t let that slide unpunished. But it’s fine, really, it is. I want them to work for me now, and they can’t work if they’re dead, right?” Negan explained, chuckling darkly in her ear. “...No way...” she gasped in disbelief. “That means - You’re with the Saviours?” “No, doll, I’m not WITH the Saviours. I am their leader. Of all six hundred of them. More or less. I lost count, and so did Simon. They keep dying, or appearing, now, more than anything, thanks to Rick’s decision of decimating my men.” Negan shot the policeman a triumphant smirk. “...I’ve missed a lot in three years, haven’t I?” she frowned, crestfallen at the realisation. Negan couldn’t help but grin wider, twirling her around, this time, to look at him. He was the supreme leader now, and he was proudly and efficiently responsible for hundreds of lives. He wasn’t that deadbeat fuck anymore. He needn’t protection anymore. He was Negan, and he was out for blood. This was the real Negan. “S-So... You’ve killed Abraham. You said just one of them had to die. Now, what?” “Were you playing us all along?” the unexpected rough voice of Daryl Dixon made Y/N’s head snap at him, her expression was shocked, Negan realised. “Wh-What?! How can you say that - Of course not! I thought he was dead! I have been loyal to the group all this time, I-I’ve gone through all that with you - How can you accuse me of something so awful?!” she was pissed. “Cozying up to the guy who just made porridge out of our friend - And you call yourself loyal to the group?” he sneered at her. “And what would you have me do?! I don’t know what happened - I don’t even know what you guys did, I don’t really know anything, do I?” she refuted immediately. “Abraham’s death is on you, Y/N.” without any warning, the redneck jolted up and grabbed ahold of her hoodie - He tried to attack her, in an impulsive act of revenge, but Negan punched him down easily, while his other lackeys wrestled him down to the ground. “Wait, hooold the fuck up a second - Doesn’t this situation look... Familiar? Hey, Rick, is that what they call a Deja-vu? Well! Excuse the fuck out of my French, but this is sooo fucked up from y’all. You see - I was willing to let even that second outburst slide - After all, Rick, you DID care for my sweet, precious Y/N when I couldn’t, y’know? She means the world to me. I was willing to call that one a mistake too. Buuut ~ ♪! Unfortunately, third time’s the charm. I can’t allow anyone to harm my sweet Y/N. So~ ♪ Y/N, look away and cover your ears. I don’t want you to see more of this.” he gently moved her away. “Back to it.” without any warning or moment of preparation, Negan smashed Glenn’s head. Negan stole a look back at Y/N, and he noticed her whimpering. He felt bad, having to make her be a witness to all this - Alas, nothing could be done, and he completely destroyed the Asian’s head, letting out all the rage, frustration and any existent negative emotions that were bubbling in his heart. “Let’s go home, doll. You must want to take a loooong, warm bath and change into some fresh clothes. Get some good damn food, drink something. Just like old times.” Negan slung his arm around her shoulders, bringing her towards the RV, motioning for Simon to take over and leave those guys be, but neither could ignore the cries and sobs, nor the accusations of betrayal shot her way. Negan just brought her closer to his side and helped her up in the car.

Y/N barely had any power to speak - Instead, she just cuddled into Negan’s side, trying to wipe away the images of blood and gore that her old friends had become... All by the hand of the man she loved so much.

As promised, Negan had someone draw her a nice bath and got her a comfy set of clothes. By the time she was done, she threw herself on the bed, and Negan came over with a tray full of nicely cooked food for her. “You spoil me.” she chuckled breathlessly. “Only the best for my princess.” he gave her a side-smile, sitting on the edge of the bed and watching her eat. “Your hair’s still as much of a mess as before.” Y/N stopped eating. She felt guilty, for some reason. “Forgive me. I lost the tie you gave me.” she muttered. “I... Had a close call once. This guy, he... He grabbed me by the hair. Tried to, well... It doesn’t matter. But I cut my hair with my knife to escape, then killed him too. My hair was... So short and uneven. It was weird. I tried looking for it again, but it was lost in the swamp, so... Yeah. Sorry.” she explained, placing the food back on the tray. “N’aww, s’all cool, doll, don’t worry so much. It was just some hair tie I had around randomly.” he waved his hand at her dismissively. “It was the only thing you had left of your wife.” she muttered. “I know. It wasn’t difficult to figure out. So... Yeah. Sorry, again.” she gulped. “As smart as always.” Negan smirked. “God, I missed you.” he chuckled, still in disbelief that she’s alive. “What’s been going on - Since we parted, I mean.” he looked down for a little, before looking back at her. “Were you alone for long?” She hesitated. “I... Found my way to our spot. After a week. Pathetic, I know. I knew you waited for me... Thanks for the hoodie, by the way. It was very useful, especially during the winter.” she smiled weakly. “So... I went on the road. Two weeks... Or maybe more? I don’t know - But I found Rick and his group. They had just escaped a huge hoard of walkers from the farm they were living at. Many months, we were just on the road. It was... It was awful.” she muttered. “We found a prison. Made a few inmate friends. But it was awful... Not living there, no - Living there was really good actually. It’s just... So many bad guys terrorized us.” she shuddered. “The guy you killed... Glenn... His wife... She used to have two little sisters. Sweet little girls, innocent and giggly.” the woman bit her lip hard. “There was this old guy, a prisoner. He was creepy... Gave me bad vibes, but the women didn’t believe me. Said he was always helpful to them. He... He killed them. He- He decapitated the little girls, Negan! He was crazy!” she said, before she properly removed the hair from her face, showing a nasty scar around her neck. “Almost got me too. Nasty old man. Rick broke his hand, beating him almost to death. Maggie killed him as revenge, in the end.” she shuddered. “It never healed. Ugly scar will never leave.” she muttered pitifully. “Ugly scar, you say? What’s that nonsense.” Negan scoffed. “You’re as beautiful as I remember. You survived. You’re back here, with me. That’s all that matters.” he scolded her, before he pushed the tray a little to the side, getting a better seat on the bed and patting his lap. The way her cheeks flushed was so endearing and adorable, he couldn’t resist. “Come on, doll, don’t be shy. I want to get a better look at my beautiful girl.” reticent and timid, Y/N crawled on his lap, as his arms pulled her against his chest, a kiss on her forehead. “Go on. Negan’s here, no need to be afraid anymore.” he said, his kiss trailing down to her neck, going all the way across the white line that marked her skin. He could feel the soft vibrations of her giggle, as his stubble dragging along the thin, sensitive skin of her neck got tickled involuntarily. It only made Negan grip her body, as he playfully teased her more, just to hear those sweet sounds of hers. He hated hearing her cry all the time. He wanted to only ever see her smile and hear that lovely laugh of hers. “...I called out your name, you know.” through her giggles, the little statement felt so nostalgic and melancholic, that it made Negan stop and slowly retract, to get a better look at her. His heart sunk a little - He had promised to keep her safe so many times... He promised he’d be there whenever she’d call out for him. In that aspect, he failed her. Again. “Every time I was in danger, I called out for you. You never came... I’m not blaming you! I just... I don’t know why I did that. Maybe I just... I just hoped that... Maybe, somehow... You would come out of nowhere.” she admitted - Negan couldn’t help but smile at her - Damn, was she good. “Just like today, huh?” he couldn’t help but feel so smug - Even after three years, the instinct of calling out to him for protection, despite it being her, the protector, most of the time - It was the most endearing thing that Negan’s heard in his entire life. “That was really embarrassing, y’know?” she mumbled, looking away. “But I guess it doesn’t matter anymore. What’s done is done. After all... After three years of calling out for you... You’re finally here. You’re not dead. I can’t believe you’re not dead. I-I... I don’t really know how to... I don’t know how to express properly what I’m feeling. I’m tragic at everything that doesn’t involve my body outright threatening to self-implode from fear - It’s always been this way. So... Even if it’s embarrassing as hell... I just want you to know that, you being alive... It’s the happiest I’ve ever been.” Negan couldn’t contain the ever growing grin on his face - Hell, he even had to shift his gaze away from that innocent, adorable face of hers, all bashful and shit - He dragged his hand down his face, ruffled away at his beard, all to stop the childish giddiness he was feeling. He couldn’t. “It’s been three years. It’s insane how much different our lives have been. You’ve been thriving and adapting so, so very well. You created a community... A whole community, and you’re their leader! Hundreds of them! You’ve become so strong and confident, and everyone’s relying on you. You’re so cool, you know? I wish I was there to see all this.” she sighed lowly. “Instead... I was on the run for months, and when we finally found a nice place to settle at the prison, I almost get killed a few times. A few of us got kidnapped too, by the psycho leader of another community - Called himself the Governor. He cut off Rick’s hand. He... He tortured and raped Michonne for days. I and Glenn were locked away in the room nearby, to hear everything. I don’t even want to imagine what he’d have done to me, if Michonne hadn’t pissed him off by biting his ear off.” she shuddered. “Bunch of us died because of him. A few of us almost died from a bad flu. It was awful. I think I was delirious for a few days too. Then, we get caught by a group of cannibals, of all things. More of us died again.” her eyes were gleaming with forming tears. “All of this... All of this... Three years... All by their side... And I get called a - A traitor. Why? I don’t get it. Am I really that bad? But even if I am - What have I done? Is it because I knew you, at the very beginning of the Apocalypse? Is that all? That sounds like a kinder garden reason, doesn’t it? But maybe it’s not me who’s wrong. Maybe it’s them. I can’t be a bad person for knowing you, can I? I can’t help loving you. It just happened.” Negan kissed her to shut up. “It’s been three god damn long, fucking years, doll. The man I was, and the man I am now - We’re different. Whatever those fuckers accuse you of, doesn’t matter. In the end, Negan’s here for you doll, a’ight? I’ve gotcha.” he kissed her again. “Besides - I was supposed to be the one who talks too much, wasn’t I? When you speak so much, you’re usually afraid or overthinking or some stupid shit like that. That won’t do anymore, doll! No more silly thoughts around me! My pretty girl won’t be upset anymore. She’ll be safe here, among friends. I’ll make sure of that.” Y/N gave him an amused smirk. “Will your wives also take care of me? I should let you know, I got proposed to, in the prison. Twice. Both times, by women. One of them, in fact, wanted to marry me AND Rick and his wife. But you never did ask me out, did you?” her cheeky grin made him laugh, only to shove his hand in the pocket of his pants, but his fist was closed, as he looked at it with a leisure, dazzling grin. “Well, love, ‘bout damn fucking time I change that, don’t you think?” opening his fist, he revealed a pretty ring. Nothing too flashy, but it sported her favourite colour scheme. “Used to be, you wore lots of pretty jewellery. Looked damn fine on you. Whatever fucker dared take them away from you, better wish he died, otherwise, I’ll fucking bash his head against the wall - But that only means I get to bring more gifts for my lovely girl.” Negan looked at her flabbergast expression - What begun as a joke, turned into an actual proposal, and it was such a hearfelt and very Negan-style one. He couldn’t help but feel his heart beat faster, watching the blush deepen on her face, and the way her beautiful eyes darted around, as if her brain had shortcircuited trying to come up with a proper response for it. With no better answer, she said just a single word. “Yes.” “Now that’s what I love to hear!” he laughed mirthfully, gingerly picking her hand and slipping the ring down her finger, only to place a small kiss on the back of her hand, and on the inside of her wrist. “If I’d known you were alive, they wouldn’t have existed. I gave them the option, to live a good life by my side, or work their place here, like the rest of the people. Can’t imagine any of those would rather give up their luxuries, even if that meant leaving their partners, y’know.” he let out a disapproving tut noise. “But you, Y/N. You’ll always be my lovely Y/N.” he said, pulling her flush against his chest. “Fuck those guys - They can’t appreciate you as you deserve. And fuck the world too - Fuck everyone else even. I’ll make sure you don’t have too see any of those dead fucks again, and like hell will I allow any threat to get anywhere close to you.” he declared boldly. “It’s been us, against everything, from the very beginning, and that’s how I intend to continue it, until this fucking mess finally ends.” “And if it doesn’t?” she asked timidly. “Well, love, I’d say I’ve still a good couple of years ahead of me to enjoy, with you by my side. What do you say? We’re not getting old, are we?” he chuckled, mimicking the forming grin on her face. She felt light, and happy - She was brightening up the whole room, and Negan’s heart, along with it. “Sounds about right to me.”

As the Sun was setting, and the Moon was out once more, Negan brought his dear wife up, and led her to the living room, lit up by candles. A radio was there, and he put a cassette on ; A bitter-sweet love song played. It was ‘When the Wild Wind Blows’ by Iron Maiden, the tale of a husband and wife who form a suicide pact, as they watch the end of the world sweep on them, from their fallout shelter. Unexpectedly fitting for their situation, but beautifully tragic, no less. The two held each other, as they swung and danced the night away, with Negan softly singing the lyrics, in that soothing, velvety voice of his, that never failed to lit afire every nerve in her body.

Negan held Y/N in his arms, her head against his chest - Surely, she could feel the way his heart beat to the rhythm of her own drum, but it was fine. He loved Y/N. It was perfectly fine.

For a few seconds, in his euphoric daze, an apparition flashed before his very eyes, freezing him on the spot - It was Lucille, and she was smiling at him, just like the good, old times. She offered him a nod, and then she disappeared. Was this her way of forgiving him for all his wrong-doing? Was this her way of giving him the blessing of actually moving on, and truly falling in love with a new wife? Was she going to erase all the nightmares that he had been plagued with?

Negan looked down at the beloved woman looking so comfortable in his arms, and he kissed her hair. “I love you, Y/N.” and finally, Negan didn’t feel guilty for having feelings for another woman anymore. “I love you.”

#the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead imagine #negan smith #negan smith x reader #negan imagine #negan smith imagine #negan x reader #negan

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