negan fic;; sex, major age gap, smoking, sexual violence etc.
"sunday, wake up, give me a cigarette
won't you quit your crying? i can't sleep
one minute i'm a little sweetheart
and next minute you are an absolute creep"
- obsessions//marin...
XXX - love me : elvis - "wring my faithful heart, tear it all apart, but love me"
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
he strokes his fingers through my hair, gently separating the knots.
i wince as he dabs my scalp with a cotton towel. pure alcohol to clean the sore spots the other girl tore at.
"you were vicious out there" he chuckles to himself quietly.
"she was telling people," i break away from his hold and turn to look him in the eye, "about you and her."
"was she now?"
"what happened with dulcie? just, talk to me negan."
he sighs. i watch him lower his head for a moment in thought, and then connect our eyes again.
"you don't have to be proud with me, just drop it." i reassure him.
maybe a force of habit, i outstretch my palm and cradle his face.
"i didn't, by the way"
"didn't what?" i ask.
"'stick my dick in her' like you said"
the corners of my mouth sink into a frown. relief should be my reaction to that revelation, but confusion is all i feel. i reach for my glass of water and take a sip.
"so, what, negan?"
"i have to keep up appearances. you make me fragile. you make me a target."
my face probably says it all. i can't help myself from cringing in pain every time he speaks.
"and she would make you stronger?"
"losing you would."
only for a second, i feel sadness welling up inside me. i close my eyes tight to keep tears from forming in the corners. that wouldn't help either of us right now.
"being in love," he starts, and i can't believe i hear the words fall from his lips, "it makes you weak."
he looks deflated.
"love does the opposite negan" believe me, i think, i should know.
i watch his eyebrows furrow. he runs a hand through his slick black hair and exhales loudly.
"starting some sister wives shit? that shit is not helping anyone. i fucked up billie, that is crystal clear now. and i apologise."
the silence that follows isn't uncomfortable. rather, it's refreshing, compared to the anger that hung thick in the air of his room earlier today.
he collects the makeshift medical supplies and takes them over to the trash.
as my eyes wander the room, following his movements, they fall upon something i didn't know he owned.
i stand and pace to his cabinets. large oak structures looming above me. the man's gramophone sits high atop one. my ankles strain, stretching to reach the clunky piece of machinery.
negan appears behind me and places a hand on my hip. using his other to retrieve the record player with ease.
he gently lowers it onto the tabletop. blowing away dust that had accumulated on the needle. obviously, it hadn't been used it in a long time.
"does it work?"
he nods yes.
i scan the room in search of his record collection. he catches my eye and gestures knowingly towards the bed. i silently crouch to my knees and check underneath, finding a large pile of the flat black disks stashed away.
instantly i'm in awe. he has cash, bowie, simone, sinatra. all the classics. i flick through the covers; excitement plastered on my face. i spot some joni mitchell, my mom's favourite.
then, elvis. i pause my browsing for a moment.
"you've got elvis!" i break the silence.
"no shit!" the man exclaims, his voice booming dramatically. it makes me giggle.
"no collection's complete without the king now is it?" he comes to sit on the edge of the bed. observing my flickering eyes.
he sighs. "bills?"
"negan?"
"forgive me" his tone is tinted with sadness again. but mostly, it's sincerity. it's genuine.
"i'm trying."
before the conversation can continue, i jump up with an elvis LP in hand, and skip to where the gramophone sits patiently in the middle of the room.
i slip the disc out of its sleeve, and set it carefully onto the turn table. trying hard to control my eager hands, i lower the needle at the edge of the record and gently turn the handle at the machine's side.
music begins to sound. quietly at first, and a little off tempo. but i don't mind.
elvis starts to croon. i don't care if the lyrics are muffled, and his sweet voice crackles. it's music. and it sounds amazing.
love me, the song is called. i can't remember if i've heard it before, but he has. negan hums along quietly and spins me around the room. gracefully, like i'm a puppet on his strings, i'm led by him.
i meant what i said. i'm going to try, the forgiveness thing.
