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venusacrossthestars · 20 days

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I <3 Australians

pairing- Oscar Piastri x fem!reader

summary: You had an obsession with Australians, your boyfriend and love for the Australian band 5 Seconds of Summer proved as much. So what better way to show your girlfriend you love her than take her to see her other fave Australians?

wc- 2.4k

a/n- HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE LOML OSCAR PIASTRI this is the self-indulgent fic I have been talking about. I am a 5SOS stan and idc if this flops or not because I truly only wrote this for me. also this isn't edited bc I could not be bothered to do so

f1 masterlist

You had a thing for Australians, your boyfriend was proof of that. But even before you met Oscar, you had been a fan of the Australian band- 5 Seconds of Summer. While other girls were in their One Direction phase, you were busy fawning over the 4 Australians. You were one of lucky few that were able to see both when 5SOS opened for One Direction. You were a stan, all of your family and friends knew it. But most importantly Oscar knew it as well.

He was familiar with the band, they were after all from the same country. He became even more familiar with them after the two of you got to together. Anytime he picked you up and graced you with the aux cord, chances were that 5 Seconds of Summer was blasting through the speakers. Oscar didn’t mind, the music was half bad either, not that he would ever say anything negative about it to you.

So when he saw that tickets were on sale for there newest tour and that one of the UK dates just happened to line up with a non-race weekend, he was quick to purchase tickets. The hardest part of this whole ordeal was keeping it quiet from you. Which is exactly why Oscar only lasted 24 hours before spilling the beans.

Today was Oscar and yours designated ‘lazy day’, no responsibilities, no worries, a day filled with absolutely nothing. Oscar had gone into your shared office about 20 minutes ago, what he was doing, you had no clue and frankly you were too busy watching Bones to really care.

You watch as Oscar appears from his office, hands behind his back hiding something from your view, “I have a surprise for you. Close your eyes.”

You quirk an eyebrow at Oscar’s sudden exclamation. “Should I be scared?” You ask, as you sit up on the couch.

“No. Just close your eyes.”

You do as he ask, trusting him fully. You feel him place something in your lap, however, it was too light to for you to fully make out what it was.

“Ok, you can open them.”

As you open your eyes you look down at your lap. You weren’t sure what to expect but it surely wasn’t a folded piece of paper. “A piece of paper?”

Oscar rolls his eyes at your comment, “Look what’s written on it.”

You unfold the paper and it takes a few seconds for to comprehend what is on it. You look at Oscar then back down at the paper, back to Oscar, back to the piece of paper and finally back to Oscar. “You didn’t,” is all you can say.

“I did.”

“Oscar this isn’t funny. I swear to God if you are joking you are sleeping on this couch.” On that little folded piece of paper is written confirmation for 2 VIP pit tickets for the 5 Seconds of Summer Show.

“Surprise!” Oscar shouts, face scrunched up from smiling so hard.

You launch yourself from the couch and into his awaiting arms. You pepper his face with kisses. “Thank you- Thank you-Thank you. You are literally the best boyfriend ever.”

“You don’t need to thank me baby. I know how much you love them.”

Your smile widens into a grin. You reach up to pinch his cheeks, “Don’t worry you’ll always be my favorite Australian.”

“I better be.”

The weeks leading up to the concert were difficult for you. You were torn in between wanting to know the setlist and not. You had done your best to stay in the dark with majority of the songs you did however know one thing they were going to be doing.

“Osc, they throw a giant inflatable dice into the crowd and whatever song it lands on when it’s back up on stage is the surprise song they play!”

Oscar shoots you a confused look. The two of you were on your way to the venue and you couldn’t stop talking off Oscar’s poor ear about the concert. You tired to reel in your excitement and everytime you apologized for being so excited, Oscar, like the good boyfriend he is, would tell you not to worry and that he loved seeing you so excited.

“And,” you begin again, “one of my favorite songs is on the dice!”

“Which one?”

“English Love Affair!”

Oscar nods, “Isn’t that the one about Harry Styles’ sister?”

“Yes! I can’t believe you remembered.”

“See I know a thing or two.”

“So proud of you baby,” you lean over and press a kiss to his cheek.

You managed to convince Oscar to dress the part of 2014 grunge 5SOS, not that it was a challenge considering majority of pants this man owned were skinny jeans. You had your own get-up, black skinny jeans (that you had to dig out for your side of the closet), black converse, a white baby tee with a graphic that read ‘I <3 Australians’ and a red flannel tied around your waist. Adorning your wrist were the multiple friendship bracelets you had made.

You could only be described as Wattpad Y/N. When Oscar had seen your shirt he had raised a questioning brow and had asked “I hope that shirt only means me.”

After going through security you and Oscar were officially in the venue. Oscar was in search of something to eat and you were on the hunt for the merch stand.

“What do you want to eat?” Oscar asks you as you stand in concession line.

“Hmmm,” you take a peek at the menu, “I’ll have a pretzel.”

Oscar, ever the gentleman, pay for both of your snacks and drinks. You barely have your food in hand before you are dragging Oscar to the merch stand.

The line was long enough that the two of you could eat and silently debate with yourself what you wanted to get.

Oscar leans his head on your shoulder, “You have to get the papaya hoodie.”

You roll your eyes, “You’re so pretentious, it’s literally orange.”

“Still you look good in orange.”

“I better considering I wear it nearly every weekend.”

While in line you chat with a few other fans, exchanging bracelets, predictions and hopes of what the dice song will be. You are interrupted by the feeling of eyes on you and Oscar, you glance over your shoulder to see a group of girls huddled in a circle. One of them is pointing to Oscar and yourself.

You eventually get your merch, Oscar insisting on getting the ‘papaya’ hoodie for you. As the two of you were walking to the wristband station, you one of the girls from the group from earlier approaching.

“Excuse me,” one of them asks timidly, “you’re Oscar Piastri, right?”

Oscar nods his head, “That’s me.”

“Okay, that’s what my friend thought,” she points over to where her other friends are standing, all now much more interested in their shoes, “I’m really sorry to interrupt your date but I wanted to ask if it’s okay if we could take a picture with you.”

Oscar looks at you and you nod your head. He knows he doesn’t need permission, but today was supposed to be a day for the two you. “Sure, we can take some pictures.”

After your run in with Oscar’s fans the rest of night moves in a blur and before you know it the lights dim and the crowd starts to grow crazier, yourself included.

You grab Oscars arm, “It’s starting oh my god, oh my god.”

Oscar rubs your hair, “Are you excited?”

“Is the sky blue?”

The overtune starts and you can see Ashton, Micheal, Luke, and Calum take their places on stage. The familiar instrumental beginning of ‘Bad Omens’ fills your ears and you can hardly contain your scream.

Oscar watches in adoration as you sing along, knowing every word. He can’t help but join in. You might’ve not known the setlist, but Oscar did. He added it to his Spotify the night he bough tickets and listened to it when he could. He wanted to make sure that he could sing along with you.

The first 3 songs pass in a blur- Bad Omens, 2011, Caramel- and not knowing the setlist proved to be the right choice on your part because when Blender starts you nearly make Oscar deaf with your scream.

“I’d die for you, I’d die for you, I’d die for you,” you sing looking Oscar directly in the eye. He only shakes his head at you antics. You bop and dance around to the chorus, grabbing Oscar to join in on your chaos and by the second verse he is fully dancing along with you.

Everyone is bumping into each other having a blast, personal space be damned. You were to high on life to care about the repercussion that you would be facing tomorrow-bruised feet and a sore throat.

More songs play and the boys interact with fans, your screaming and hollering along with them. Oscar’s face lights up at the beginning of ‘She’s Kinda Hot’ and he turns to you with a grin on his face, “I know this one!”

“My girlfriends bitchin’ cause I always sleep in. She’s always screaming when she’s callin’ her friend. She’s kinda hot though!” Oscar sings along, wiggling his eyebrows at you when he sings the last line.

Rolling your eyes you give him a light shove away from you. You take a moment to admire Oscar, thankfully that you have a loving boyfriend that would take you to see your other favorite Australians.

The mood takes a 180 when the chords of ‘Amnesia’ fill the venue. You can’t help the tears that line your eyes and the shakiness of your voice when you sing along. Oscar looks at you, concern etched on his face, you wave him off. It was just a sad song, that’s all.

The lights dim and on the big screen you see Ashton, Luke, Micheal and Calum in there suit get up. You know what time it was- Dice time. They explain the rules, if the dice isn’t back on stage within a minute then they’ll be picking the song instead.

Luke hurls the dice into the crowd and the timer begins. Hands are flying up as the dice moves across the pit, you and Oscar watch and before you know it the dice is coming towards the two of you. You stand on your tippy toes to help Oscar, and the other around you, push it back towards the stage.

“That was strangely horrifying,” Oscar tells you.

“Not something I would want to see coming towards me again.”

The dice lands on stage and you have both your fingers crossed, praying that it’s English Love Affair. You look at the screen to see the graphic stop on English Love Affair, and the noise that escapes you is hardly human. All Oscar can do it laugh at your reaction.

Just like with the rest of the songs, you sing along, there is however a little more passion when you sing along to this one. “The picture burning in my brain, kissing in the rain. No, I can't forget my English love affair.”

Oscar wraps his arms around your middle and rest his head on your shoulder, he still couldn’t believe that this song was about Harry Styles’ sister. Oscar may not admit it but every time you told him about any celebrity tea, he always listened. And granted this was old news, but it was new to him the first time he heard this song.

You were panting at the end of the song. “Having fun babe?” You ask Oscar, hoping that your little performance didn’t scare him off.

“I am. I thought you had some performances in the car, but those are nothing compared to what I just watched.”

Before you know it, ‘She Looks So Perfect’ is playing, signaling that the end of the concert is near. You know that the post concert depression would be hitting extra hard the next morning. As the final chord plays and the boys bow off stage you turn to Oscar, asking him if he is ready to go.

“There are two more songs left, for the encore.” He tells you, still planted in his spot.

You shoot him a look, “How do you know that?”

You watch as Oscar’s cheeks grow red, “I might’ve learned the setlist so I could sing along with you. And trust me, you don’t want to miss these ones.”

You knew that they would probably come back out to play ‘Youngblood’ it was their most popular song, however you weren’t sure why Oscar was so insistent that you wanted to hear the other one.

So when they came back on stage and the familiar ‘Oh-whoa’s’ graced your ears you nearly burst into tear. You weren’t expecting to hear ‘Outer Space’ live, ever. You had made peace with this fact so you really couldn’t help it when tears started streaming down your face.

Oscar knew of your history with the Sounds Good Feels Good album, that was an album that you related to so closely, he also knew how much Outer Space/Carry on meant to you.

Oscars hand, now wrapped around your shoulders, brought you closer into his chest as you sang along, softer than you had been singing the entire night, “ I will wait for you, to love me again… I guess I was running, from something. I was running back to you.”

Oscar leans his head in closer and presses a soft kiss into your cheek. Oscar reaches into his back pocket and hands you his phone, flashlight already on, so you could join in with everyone else.

“The darkest night never felt so bright with you by my side,” Oscar sings along. And while you couldn’t see him, you knew that he was looking at you with nothing but love his eyes.

The two of you sway in each others embrace, singing along to the ending-

Nothing like the rain, nothing like the rain

When you're in outer space, when you're in outer space

Nothing like the rain, nothing like the rain

When you're in outer space , when you're in outer space

Love me like you did, love me like you did

I'll give you anything, I'll give you anything

Love me like you did, love me like you did

I'll give you anything, I'll give you anything

You turn in Oscars arms, you bring your hands up to cup his face and pull him in for a sweet kiss. It wasn’t the most romantic kiss the two of you have shares, you were both sweaty, tired, you definitely had tears running down your face, and there was probably some snot in the mix. It might’ve not been the most romantic, but it was something so personal and that’s all that you needed.

a/n: also as I said this was extremely self-indulgent and ik you can def tell. but in all seriousness 5SOS is my favorite band and their album- Sounds Good Feels Good is the album to listen to if you need to get some feels out. I cry every time I listen to Outer Space/Carry on.

I was lucky enough to see them last year at the '5 Seconds of Summer Show' and hearing Outer Space live was an out of body experience. If you ever need some song recommendations for a certain mood, they have a song for nearly everything.

taglist- crossed out names mean I couldn't tag you

@arieslost @customsbyjcg-blog @gr1mes-cc @styl1shl1v @landoscardotcom @poppyflower-22 @blancastans @katiezdiarysblog @mrsstylez @jamieeboulos @tpwkstiles @peanutaj @hiireadstuff @hwalllllllelujah @purple9950 @chaoticpenguindetective @crazymofo-96 @harriesnuggets @inlovewithsierrasix @luckyladycreator2 @luanasrta @inejghafawifesblog @ineedmoremilkk @swiftpiastri@virgo-wonder @faith-f1 @lily1sposts @animetiddies-21 @melissaw1202 @hauntedphotographybookstaco @livelovesports @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @slaygirlbossworld @pastryboyyy @pookiesnukoms @minkyungseokie @f1enthusiastsstuff @mirrorballpulisic @notturlover @notso-sweetcaroline @verspia @mk-wrote @whentheautumnleavesfall @trywhisperingtotheocean @sadbut-true0 @akiraquote @hockeylover4ever @imaginedworldsstuff @sassyangel16 @motkanykodas @foulsongfest @bingewatche @lonely92world @flonaschicken @cvnts3rver @cayls33 @grungy-blue-hipster @kikinuke2 @slupin333

#f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fic #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #oscar piastri #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #op81 #op81 imagine #op81 x reader #op81 fluff #op81 fic #mclaren

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personne-reblogs · 1 year

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AUTISTIC SWEEP

The shouts of the crowd are fading into white noise.

The curtains are closing.

The lights are dimming.

The air still feels filled with static, though.

This is a fight Donatello had known he couldn’t win, logically. The competition had been all fun and games, but this challenger was another story. No amount of support or hype could make up for such a gap; the bone deep certainty didn’t leave room for hard feelings.

Struggling to catch his breath, battle shell against the wall, Donatello looks up from where he’s been getting some rest - not passed out rest, mind you. More like a beauty nap.

He lets out a genuine chuckle.

Shigeo Kageyama is simply standing there, as he has been for most of the fight.

“Sweet Marie Curie,” he puffs, keeping his voice level. The roar of the crowd hasn’t entirely died down, but he knows he is heard. “You don’t even have a scratch.”

The one they call Mob is giving him a stare. He still seems a little out of it.

“You fought well,” he states calmly, and Donnie giggles.

“Oh, please. I’ve been losing tournaments at home for as long as I can remember. You don’t need to feel sorry for me.”

At that, Mob flashes a grin. “I’m not sorry,” he says bluntly, coming over in lazy steps. “But it hasn’t been easy, either.”

He sits down, legs stretched out in front of him, and Donnie can now see that his breathing is a little heavy. He feels himself get cocky.

“Well, I wasn’t about to just let you win. If I had to go down, might as well give ‘em a show, right?”

Mob sends him a sideway glance. “You really are all about dramatics.”

“What can I say?” Donnie sighs theatrically, proving his point. “This whole competition is about being swag. I could hardly disappoint.”

“I don’t think you could," his opponent utters. “You’re very expressive.”

Donnie raises a perfectly drawn eyebrow. This is something he hasn’t often been told. He looks over to Mob, and the tension in the boy’s shoulders makes him hum in thought.

“I don’t know who’s next, but you are going to crush them,” he provides. When Mob gives him a nonplussed glance, he goes on. “And even if you don’t, it’s still the last one. How good does that sound?”

“... it has been getting a bit much, to be honest.”

“Yeah, this is wild,” Donnie agrees. “Anyway, what are you gonna do with your trophy once you get it?”

Mob’s smile is a little shy, but he seems happy with the distraction. “I don’t know, actually. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten one. What would you do?”

“Well, you see, there was this one time I won the Lair Games…”

--------------------------

In the next room, a very proud sensei and three worried brothers are getting impatient.

The student and the sibling don’t seem to care at the moment.

The crowd is gone.

The curtains are closed.

The lights are off.

For now, making small talk with a former rival is just enough.

--------------------------

EDIT: there is now a sequel!

YOOO IT'S BEEN SUCH A WILD RIDE

Disclaimer: I have never read/watched mp100 and I deeply apologize for making him probably very ooc. Just wanted to celebrate this beast of a match in my own way, which is wishing I could draw and deciding to heave words on a doc instead lol

CONGRATS ON MOB!! The final match between mp100 and undertale is gonna be soooo funny but I think Mob's gonna win this thing like it's nothing tbh (he has my vote at least)

@autismswagsummit thank you for reblogging all that Donnie propaganda, I genuinely think he never would've made it this far without the signal boost!

All my thanks to the Rise fandom for these past few days! You guys have made such powerful content and there's been so much hype I'm shocked. SHOCKED I TELL YOU

#donnie sweep #mob sweep #autismswagsummit #donatello #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #save rottmnt #unpause rottmnt #mob psycho 100 #mob psycho #mp100 #mob #writing #my writing #original content #i dunno how i tag these anymore

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girlbossagenda · 1 month

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How to be pretty on a lazy day pt.2

This is the make up edition! I'm glad y'all enjoyed the first part about the clothing! We know make up it's a form of art, expression and a ticket to gain easy access to pretty privilege, but what if you're a newbie or you're feeling lazy? Well this is the right place for you! Sit on your vanity! So here is how to be pretty on a lazy day and spend less time on your flawless make up.

౨ৎthe look౨ৎ

Are you going for a more matte look or glittery look? Let's focus on the natural era make up, which is basically the 90s make up and the early 2010s(late 2000s) make up, here the main colors are: brown, beige and anything neutral, the 90s one it's more cool toned, so if you have a cool toned skin color I suggest you this one, for warm toned skin, I suggest the Early 2010s one, so let's go for a more bronze look!

౨ৎconsider your ethnicity౨ৎ

When you're in a hurry or have low energy you must focus into doing a make up that embraces your natural features, and give your that exotic look, like "I woke up this way".

౨ৎbye bye eyeliner and welcome lip liner౨ৎ

We are not trying to get that 2020 type of look, don't we?, and doing your eyeliner takes so much time and can it literally destroy your make up, especially if the wings look like sisters instead of twins.

Try to use a eye pencil, it's better to go for a more balanced look!

౨ৎbase౨ৎ

I suggest you to just use concealer as a base,since foundation can be of the wrong color, and concealer has a very wide coverage.

౨ৎblush౨ৎ

I suggest you to use the under blushing technique or just place your blush high in you cheekbones and not on you apple/cheek, to give you a more fresh and lifted look, or just don't use it, as it's not the main focus, also avoid an overly pink shade.

౨ৎlips౨ৎ

For the lips I suggest you something simple, like lip liner + clear lip gloss or those super pretty nyx butter glosses, or if you are more into that a more simple a metallic lip gloss + lip liner of the same color.

I also suggest a more blushy look to your lips if you are going for the "I just woke up this way" look!

౨ৎeyeshadow౨ৎ

Go for neutral colors, like brown, unless you're going to do and ageyo sal, avoid going underneath with it.

౨ৎeyebrows౨ৎ

This.is.so.important. I'm telling you eyebrows change your whole face, in this look you need defined eyebrows, and I mean that you should add high beneath them!

౨ৎnose౨ৎ

Avoid heavy contour on your nose as it can make it look uncanny and more relevant.

౨ৎcontouring౨ৎ

It's your choice to use a cream or powder one, but I suggest you to not use it or to use it very lightly and to do a short "wing" with it!

౨ৎlashes౨ৎ

Unless you have light lashes or light colored eyes, I won't suggest you to use black mascara, use a clear or brown one.

Hi bonitas! This is my guide for today, it's my first time describing how to do make up, I really wanted to make a guide like this one the male up here really focuses on you lips and eyes and less on the cheeks!Next time we're going to talk about hair! If you want more reference just go on my Pinterest: GIRLBOSSAGENDA See you soon gorgeous

xoxo

-𝓐

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naughtyneganjdm · 20 days

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Good Luck Charm - Chapter 29

Summary: Negan deals with the overwhelming emotional effects of what happened to Y/N altering his life and he's not handling it well.

Characters: Negan, Y/N/reader (OC), Evie, Nathan, Simon, etc.

Warnings: Swearing, Severe Angst, etc.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39423063/chapters/139486027

Notes: I know I said that I would put up the priest Negan fic next, but this one has been done and edited for a while. I just forgot about it. But I promise that one is next. Thanks to anyone that still reads this story!

“You’re being lazy,” Negan felt the warmth of an arm wrapping around his waist from behind, holding him close. It made a smile tug at Negan’s lips when he cuddled his head in closer to the pillow that he was laying on. A faint kiss was pressed over the back of his neck and it had his lips parting. “You need to wake up. It’s a busy day.”

“Every day is a busy day,” Negan frowned, turning in the bed with his tired eyes fluttering to an open. “You know that Y/N.”

Seeing her smile made his heart skip a beat. Maybe he got used to seeing her sad for so long that whenever she smiled it honestly took his breath away. Hooking his fingers with hers, Negan brought her hand to him to place a kiss over the back of it.

“There is nowhere I’d rather be than in bed with you,” Negan informed her with a hesitant smile, leaning in to nuzzle his nose against hers. There was no better feeling in the world than waking up knowing that you weren’t alone. That there was someone with you to share your life with. “I’d rather take the day just to be with you.”

“Why are you still here Negan?” Y/N whispered causing his breath to get caught in his throat. Tipping his head back, he felt his body tensing up and he didn’t know what she meant. That wasn’t exactly the response that he was looking for.

“In bed? Because I’m comfortable with you,” Negan responded with a frown. The warmth he felt waking up was suddenly cold and uneasy. She looked unhappy with him and he didn’t know what to say. “I don’t care about the rest of the world right now. The children are sleeping. We’re together. That’s all that matters.”

“I mean at The Sanctuary,” she countered causing his lips to part. Trying to lean forward to kiss her, Negan felt her fingers pressing in over his lips to keep him from doing so. “I asked you to take the children to the farm and you’re still living here Negan.”

“What do you…?” Negan began with a faint whisper, stopping when he realized where this conversation was headed.

“I asked you and you promised me. You swore you were going to take the children to the farm Negan. Let them live a normal life. You swore,” her voice got angrier as she sat up in the bed. The tension in her body only further proved that. It made Negan’s heart begin to race and he felt like he was starting to panic. Pressing up onto his palms, Negan braced his body weight on them as he stared out at her on the bed. “It was my dying wish Negan. You promised me and you still haven’t done it. Why haven’t you kept your promise?”

With a gasp, Negan’s eyes snapped open with his heart hammering inside of his chest. Lifting his head, Negan saw that it was still nighttime with the small amount of light from the moon filtering into his room at The Sanctuary. Gazing to the bed beside him, Negan made sure that Nathan and Evie were still there. When he knew that they were safe, he was able to calm down somewhat before attempting to gather himself.

Lowering his head into his palms, Negan groaned out and couldn’t shake the feeling that he was experiencing. The nightmares returned. They were gone for a short while, but now every time he closed his eyes he had some kind of bad dream that revolved around Y/N. Either that moment on the hill repeated in his dreams or she was in them angry. He had a few dreams that included Lucille as well. She was angry with him too in them for what went down. There was no escaping the way he was feeling. Not awake. Not sleeping.

Sliding in closer to his children, Negan pulled both Nathan and Evie in closer to his body. It had been weeks since the day Negan had left Y/N in that small town. For the first two weeks Negan went out every day searching for her body. He had most of The Saviors searching for her too. They all knew what she looked like and what she was wearing. It had almost been a month with no prevail. But he kept looking. He wasn’t ready to give up.

What Y/N had said to him in his dreams echoed throughout his mind. He did promise her that he would take the children to the farm, but his number one priority was finding her body. More than anything, he needed that closure. The children needed that closure. They needed to bury Y/N in order for them to have a grave to go to. That meant he had to stay at The Sanctuary and use all the resources he could in order to try to find her.

In his arms, Negan felt Evie cuddling in closer to him and it made his chest ache. Since they hadn’t found Y/N, Evie was convinced during the first few weeks that her mother was still alive, but the longer time passed the more it became obvious that Evie was coming to terms with the thought that her mother was really gone. Especially since Y/N would have made it back to them if she was alive. There was no way that she wouldn’t have made it back. Not with having Nathan and Evie with Negan.

It was hard for both him and Evie. Negan was suffering greatly from depression. He was doing his best to hold it together but losing Y/N had hit him hard. Nathan really didn’t understand it, he was too young. He would ask for her, but he didn’t understand that she was gone. Negan wished it wasn’t like this, but there was nothing he could do to change it.

Because Negan was having a hard time he picked up on the fact that Evie was doing her best not to have meltdowns, but some days she was like him and she would break down. But most of the time it felt like she was taking care of him. Evie knew that he was broken especially after finding him that day having a meltdown at the farm. It was a job that she shouldn’t have had to carry the weight of, but she was doing her best for the both of them. It should have been the opposite, but no matter what Negan did he couldn’t pull himself out of the darkness that he was feeling.

Pressing a kiss over the top of Evie’s head, Negan cuddled his chin in closer to her to hold her close. Nathan was lying beside Evie on the other end and Negan made sure he was close too before trying to get comfortable. Sleeping became hard for Negan again. He had a hard time staying asleep. Exhaustion would often catch up to him and he would pass out, but it never lasted long.

Another thing Negan knew is that he wasn’t taking care of himself physically either. Before all of this happened, he would always keep himself looking super clean and pristine. Now he was letting his hair grow out and it was often messy. It had been a long time since he had shaved. And he wasn’t showering like he could have been. Right now those things just didn’t matter to him.

He was making sure that the children were fed and taken care of, but all he cared about was finding Y/N. It didn’t make sense to him that she was completely missing. Then again, there was a thought that entered his mind. If Y/N did turn, they were right by the water. He didn’t want to think it, but there was that chance that she ended up in the water and that’s why they were never finding her. Maybe her corpse was beneath the water and they would never find her.

That thought was horrifying to him and it was one that he was going to have to live with for a long time. He hoped that he was wrong and there was something that him and his Saviors were missing. It didn’t make sense that they weren’t finding her body. Negan personally went through the entire town that they were in when he left her. Multiple times. He searched for some kind of sign as to where she went and he found nothing. There was nothing there. It was like she just completely vanished.

Clearing his throat, Negan thought about how Y/N asked Negan to give Evie her wedding band that Negan gave her. That was something he didn’t follow through with either. Instead it was still on the necklace that he wore. In his mind, she was his wife so he was never going to take it off. It kept a piece of her with him always.

Right now, he still saw her in his sleep every night. It was often a nightmare, but at least he still saw Y/N. He was worried about how long it might be before he stopped dreaming of her. Until he stopped remembering what her voice sounded like. They got so far only for their dreams to be ripped out from beneath them. It wasn’t fair. That’s how he still viewed this whole situation. It was wrong on so many levels and it wasn’t fair.

Trying to force his eyes closed, Negan knew that he wasn’t likely going to fall asleep. And if he did? It would take hours. So he just cherished the warmth of his children near him. Glad that they were at least sleeping.

Unfortunately he was right. Negan was awake long enough for the sun to start to rise and by the time he finally did fall asleep, he didn’t stay asleep for long before one of his people at The Sanctuary brought in breakfast for them. Lifting his head, Negan groaned out when he saw that Evie and Nathan were already up sitting at the table. Clutching tightly to the pillow that was in his arms, Negan grumbled and lowered his head back down.

“Breakfast daddy,” Evie called out to Negan who rolled onto his stomach before pulling the pillow in over his head. With a sigh, Evie got up from the bed and reached for Negan’s white t-shirt to tug at it. “You have to eat. You didn’t eat lunch or dinner yesterday.”

“I’m not hungry,” Negan grumbled with his voice being muffled against the bedsheets. Another firm tug was felt at his shirt when Evie managed to get him up and seated on the edge of the bed. There were dark circles under Negan’s eyes and his hair was a mess. Frowning, Evie stepped forward to brush her fingers through her father’s messy hair. “You don’t have to take care of me Evie.”

“I do,” she insisted reaching for Negan’s hands to squeeze tightly at them. Getting Negan finally to his feet, she led him over toward the chair that he would often sit at and got him to lower down. Sliding his plate of breakfast before him, she handed him over the silverware before taking her seat. Nathan was already at his chair, kicking his feet while he picked at his breakfast. Evie was doing her best to eat too, but Negan hated this part of things. They still had the fourth chair there. Having it empty felt wrong, but taking it away felt worse. So his meals would often lead to him having a breakdown that led him to tears thinking about Y/N. “Daddy?”

“Yeah baby?” Negan’s tired expression met Evie’s when she pointed down to the plate. “I’m trying honey. I’m sorry.”

“Hi daddy,” Nathan smiled brightly when Negan looked him over. It drew attention to his dimples and Negan feigned a smile. God, this was so fucking hard and he knew that he had to start stepping it up. He was the only parent these two had left and he felt like he was failing them. He felt like he was failing Y/N.

“Good morning handsome,” Negan got up from his chair enough to press a kiss over Nathan’s forehead. Brushing his fingers through Nathan’s hair, Negan carefully lowered back down into his seat and sighed loudly. Watching Nathan pick at his food, Negan slid his chair in closer and reached for the silverware. Cutting up his food, Negan lifted it up on a spoon making Nathan’s smile expand. With a hum Nathan swallowed down on the food and bobbed his head about like nothing was wrong. “Does that taste good buddy?”

“Yeah,” Nathan responded eager for another bite when Negan brought up a spoonful again. Evie’s eyes were locked on them together while Negan attempted to make silly faces to get Nathan to giggle. What she also noticed was that Negan never took a bite of his food. “Yum.”

“Yum is right. You’re gonna grow up and be a strong little boy, aren’t you?” Negan heard the sound of a chair moving, but he kept his attention on Nathan. Suddenly the sound of Evie making train sounds were heard and a spoon was placed in front of his mouth. Arching his eyebrow, Negan’s head slowly turned and Evie nodded toward the spoon.

“Eat,” she demanded of Negan who let out a long exhale. “Do I have to make silly faces too?”

Replicating almost the same faces as Negan was doing previously with Nathan had Nathan in a round of giggles before Negan opened his mouth to accept the bite, “Now if you want to feed Nathan, I’ll feed you. Swallow it down.”

“Yes ma’am,” Negan swallowed down hard knowing that she was just doing her best to get him to eat. Evie kept up with what she was doing until Nathan was done with his breakfast. Raising his hand up, Negan nodded his head about and sighed. “I can feed myself the rest of the time.”

“Okay,” she lowered the silverware and gave him a stern expression. Usually Evie took on a majority of his genes, but that look right there. That look was something he had seen from Y/N so many times in the past. “You better.”

“Yes ma’am,” Negan smirked, whistling when Evie went to walk away. Wiggling his fingers, Negan motioned her to him again. Curling his arm around her waist, he hugged her close to him. He knew that he wasn’t being the best father he could be right now, but the depression was hitting him hard. Having Evie here with him definitely made things better, but he knew he should have been the one taking care of her. Not the other way around. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she whispered, burying her head against the side of his neck to squeeze harder at him for the hug.

A knock was heard making them both look back to see that the door was slowly pushing open. Once Simon was revealed to be behind it, Negan cleared his throat and felt a sense of discomfort, “Hey boss man. Can we talk?”

“Not until he’s done with his breakfast,” Evie answered for Negan and it made Negan’s thick eyebrows bounce up in amusement. Simon’s head tipped to the side with him looking to Negan for a response.

“You heard the little lady, she’s in charge,” Negan pointed to Evie who gave a faint smile when her father listened to her instead of going straight to work like he normally would. “She’s the boss. So let me finish this and I will be right out.”

“It’s kind of important,” Simon stressed to Negan, his hands resting at his hips when Evie reached out to place her hand in over her father’s shoulder almost to stress dominance in this moment.

“And so is him eating. He doesn’t have much left, he hasn’t eaten much in days so please let him eat. You can wait outside,” Evie waved her hand about in the air before returning to her seat. A snort fell from Negan’s lips at her response. Shrugging his shoulders, Negan nodded in the direction of Evie showing Simon that he was going to be listening to his daughter. “He’ll be out when he’s done. You can wait outside.”

With a grunt, Simon gave Negan a glare before leaving the room and closing the door behind him. Faintly clapping his hands together, Negan knew that Evie was proud of herself, “Good job baby girl. I can’t even get him to listen to me.”

“It’s time someone did,” she finished with her breakfast while he did the same. After he finished, he got up from his seat and got the dishes together. Then he gave both Nathan and Evie a kiss on the head before starting to go for the door. “Are you going to be gone today?”

“No honey, I’m just gonna go speak to Simon and then I will be right back,” Negan assured her with a firm nod of his head. Giving her a wink, he headed out of the room and saw that Simon was resting against the wall with anger flooding his features. “What is it?”

Once the door was shut behind Negan, Simon stepped forward and threw his hands up in the air, “When are we going to stop this Negan? It’s been weeks and you still have The Saviors out looking for Y/N. I think we both know we’re not going to find anything.”

“We stop when we find her,” Negan responded with a shake of his head. This was something Simon kept bringing up and by this point it was starting to really infuriate Negan. There was a flood of rage rushing through his veins and Negan knew he had to try to keep a level head about this. “I’m not going to give up until we find her.”

“Then you’re never going to be safe Negan,” Simon retorted with an angered breath. “Rick’s crew is likely planning their attack on the fucking place while you’re wasting all of our resources and our men on some bitch that is likely dead at the bottom of the water.”

“Watch your fucking mouth,” Negan roared, stepping forward to firmly shove his hands into the center of Simon’s chest. The swiftness of it had Simon stumbling backwards, a grunt falling from his throat. “Don’t you fucking dare call my wife a bitch. I will fucking destroy you.”

“Like you’re destroying The Saviors and The Sanctuary?” Simon snarled hearing Negan’s breathing growing louder, his hazel eyes narrowing in frustration. “Ever since Y/N and those kids showed up, you’ve been letting this place nosedive into the ground. You are meant to be the leader. We are in the middle of a war with Rick and his people. What are you doing though? You’re in your bedroom every day sobbing into your pillows. And if you’re not doing that you are out all day long looking for a woman that you know is dead. We both know you’re never going to find her Negan.”

“I don’t give a shit what you think Simon. I’m going to keep looking for her because I love her and…” Negan paused when the sound of Simon laughing interrupted him. Biting at his bottom lip, Negan felt his rage increasing with Simon rolling his eyes.

“You loved her?” Simon mocked Negan, emphasizing his words in an antagonizing way. Simon’s jaw was clenching and he made it clear he was furious with the way Negan was acting. “She was one of your wives Negan. Not the only one. Just one of them.”

“Watch where you are headed with this,” Negan warned his number two, his fingers curling into a tighter fist at his side.

“You know, I never really agreed with your actions here, but I went along with it because for the most part, it got things done,” Simon began, his eyes locking with Negan’s trying to express some sense of power over Negan in this moment. “Then Rick shows up and proves to you that your way of doing things isn’t going to work. But you keep toying with the guy and you are letting them build up an offense against us. Then your family shows up and suddenly you don’t care anymore. All you care about is your family and a woman that you didn’t even care for when the world was normal Negan. Why the hell is she so important now? Because she certainly wasn’t when you were married to Lucille.”

Closing his eyes, Negan tried to count to himself knowing that he was fully prepared to attack Simon at this moment, “Now you’re letting a ten-year-old control your life and it’s fucking pathetic.”

Grunting out, Simon stumbled back after the force of Negan punching him collided with the side of his face. It had Simon grabbing the railing, his fingers curling tightly around the metal when his other hand reached up to caress where Negan had hit him. Lifting his head, Simon noticed the way that Negan’s eyes were locked on him, with Negan’s chest heaving.

Standing up straight, Simon’s blood was rushing through his veins when he stepped before Negan fully prepared to fight him back when Negan shoved into him again, “What are you gonna do Simon? Huh? You wanna fight? I fucking dare you. I will destroy you.”

“Daddy?” Evie’s voice was heard in a faint whisper. Both men gazed over at her with Simon backing down when he saw Negan’s younger daughter staring out at them with big eyes. Worry filled her young features and Simon scoffed, before rubbing at his face again. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything is fine baby,” Negan’s posture changed completely when he spotted Evie, lowering down on his knees to reach out to cup her face in his rough hands. “You go back in there and watch your brother for me. Daddy just needs to talk to Simon, okay?”

By her expression, Negan could tell that Evie wasn’t comfortable with leaving him, but she was going to listen to him just because he asked her to. Giving her a quick kiss on the cheek, Negan slowly stood and waited for the door to be closed before turning on his heel, “You ever say something negative about my wife or my daughter again and I will fucking kill you. You understand me?”

“Crystal clear,” Simon’s shoulders slouched, his breathing loud enough for Negan to hear. In a sense, Simon was lucky because Negan wasn’t sure what he was capable of if Evie hadn’t come out. “At least I know when this place falls, it wasn’t my fault. It was yours.”

“Fuck you,” Negan snarled under his breath, standing his ground before Simon. With a roll of his eyes, Simon shook his head before giving Negan a final glare. Instead of saying anything more, Simon walked off leaving Negan to himself. Negan let out a tense sound, his heart hammering in his chest with a fire burning in his fist from where he had punched Simon. He was furious with the way that Simon responded to him searching for Y/N. If it came between dealing with Rick and finding Y/N, he wanted to find Y/N. That would be his choice every time. Shaking his head, Negan stepped back toward the door to his bedroom and stopped when something caught his attention out of the corner of his eyes. Immediately, his stomach sank, his heart hammering in his chest when he saw Y/N standing at the end of the hallway. “Y/N?”

Calling out, Negan started to move away from the door of the bedroom that his children was in. Once he seemed to notice her there, she took off in the other direction and he quickened his movements. It seemed like she was pushing through the group of people that were on the second level to get away from Negan when he called out to her again. She got a head start down the stairs and he took off after her.

“Stop! What are you doing?” Negan called out and it drew her to look back over her shoulder at Negan when she got to the bottom of the stairs. When their eyes connected, Negan could feel a chill run down his spine. “Wait.”

His pleas were heard on deaf ears as she continued to run away from him and he felt a rush of panic flooding his veins. Trying his best to keep up with her, Negan cussed out to himself when he reached the bottom of the stairs and didn’t see her. Looking both ways, he noticed that an exit door was closing and he quickly headed that way.

Once he reached the outside, he came to a stumbling stop to look around. He could barely breathe when he took a look around in hopes of finding her. Everything was weighing heavy on him, but mostly confusion. How’d she get back here and why was she running away? And how was she alive?

Finally, his eyes locked onto Y/N when he saw that she was standing by the gate where they had all of the walkers attached to it to keep people from trying to enter The Sanctuary.

“Y/N!” Negan called out her name once more, fear overtaking him when he saw her getting close to the fence. With him approaching, it had the growling sounds from the walkers growling and they seemed to get more animated with him there. Coming to a stop drew her eyes away for a minute to gaze over at him and Negan threw his hands up in the air. His pulse was pounding inside of his head, his breathing uneven when he approached her. “Y/N? What are you doing? How’d you get here? You’re alive.”

Smirking, she gave Negan a weird expression before going back to observing the walker. When she leaned a little too close in for his comfort, he threw his hand up to stop her, “Hey! Be careful. What the fuck are you doing?”

“Calm down,” she breathed out with a wrinkle of her nose. She seemed to be taking in the features of the walker that was before her. Without any fear, she stepped closer to it and it had Negan stepping forward. “It’s not like I’m going to get bit or anything. Well…again.”

“That’s not funny,” Negan grunted under his breath drawing Y/N to smile, tipping her head from side to side. Reaching out she poked at the abdomen of the walker before her and Negan didn’t know how to react to the way she was acting. “I don’t understand what’s going on right now. You’ve been gone for weeks. You make it back to The Sanctuary, you’re perfectly okay and the first thing you decide to do is run away from me so you can get close and personal with the walkers?”

Again, she didn’t respond to him as she poked at a different spot on the walker which made the growling sounds grow louder, “Hey! I’m talking to you. After everything that happened the last time I saw you, this is what you decide to do? Not go to your children? And you’re making jokes about being bitten?”

“You’re being too sensitive,” she stammered, finally giving her full attention to Negan resting her hands on her hips. “Maybe I’m just taking more after you. Making light of a dark situation. You’re the one with the dark humor here. Take the stick out of your ass Negan.”

“I…what?” Negan responded in disbelief when she snickered to herself and started walking the length of the fence again. “Y/N? What are you doing?”

Brushing his fingers through his messy hair, Negan’s body was trembling and more than anything he wanted to wrap his arms around her to hug her, but she was acting so strange. Clearing his throat, a warmth flooded his face when he threw his hand up in the air.

“I imagine you’re really mad at me right now for leaving,” Negan suggested finally getting her attention when she looked back over her shoulder at him. “I heard that gun go off. I was certain that you killed yourself and I made a promise to you. I left and if I would have ever known that you were alive I promise I would have never left you. I told you that the mark on your arm didn’t exactly look like a bite.”

It seemed like she was thinking things over before turning on her heel to approach him, still saying nothing.

“You have no idea the hell that I’ve been through since that day. I thought you were dead. Evie thought you were dead,” Negan informed her with a broken sound, his hand hovering in over his chest and shaking when she let out a long exhale. “We need to take you to her. Come with me.”

Extending his hand out, Negan expected her to take it, but instead she just looked down at his hand and frowned, “Please.”

“Boss?” a voice surprised Negan causing him to jump. Looking back over his shoulder, he noticed that Laura was approaching him and all the color was drained from her face. The expression over her features almost made him uncomfortable the closer she got to him. “Who are you talking to?”

“What do you mean who am I talking to?” Negan was disgusted with Laura even asking him that question. Pointing toward Y/N had her eyebrows bouncing up. Laura looked in the direction he pointed before looking back to Negan again. “I think it’s kind of fucking obvious who I’m talking to.”

“You’re talking to…” Laura looked to the gate of walkers and cleared her throat uneasily. “The walkers?”

“What the fuck are you…” Negan let out an uneasy breath when a smirk tugged at Y/N’s features. If anything Laura looked concerned for Negan right now. Gazing between Y/N and Laura, Negan felt a chill running down his spine when he let out a hesitant sound. “This isn’t funny. She’s literally right here.”

“Who is?” Laura took a moment to ask after she looked around the area surrounding them. There was genuine concern in her eyes with Negan letting out an uncomfortable laugh.

“I don’t know what this is,” Negan announced nervously gazing between both women. Waving his hand about in Y/N’s direction had Laura’s lips parting and it looked like she wanted to say something but didn’t. “She’s right here. I don’t know if the two of you are doing this to get one over on me for letting this happen, but…”

“Negan,” Laura held her hand up in the air trying to get Negan to focus. Stepping forward, she grabbed a hold of Negan’s shoulders and he felt tense with her holding onto him like this. “Who am I supposed to be seeing right now?”

“Y/N. She’s right there and she’s…” Negan answered her, his voice breaking when Laura slowly released him. There was worry in her eyes with Laura looking Negan over. “I saw her in the hallways walking and then…how do you not see her she’s standing right there? This isn’t a funny joke.”

“Negan, no one is joking. I see no one. All I see is you talking to the air. It’s just you and the walkers,” Laura explained to Negan with a shake of her head. Reaching out, she curled her fingers around Negan’s wrist and nodded her head toward The Sanctuary. “Maybe I should get you to the doctor. What do you think?”

“I’m not crazy,” Negan suggested with a hesitant laugh looking down to Laura’s fingers curled around his wrist.

“Okay, you’re not crazy,” Laura held her hands up when Negan yanked his wrist from her. “You’re probably just tired. You’ve been out constantly looking for Y/N. Maybe you’re just exhausted and not getting enough sleep. How about I walk back with you to your room?”

“Fucking hell,” Negan lowered his head, pinching at the bridge of his nose. Cussing under his breath, Negan tried to gather himself. Looking again, he saw that Y/N was still standing there and she waved. “I have to be dreaming again.”

“Negan, you’re right here. You’re not sleeping,” Laura insisted, squeezing at Negan’s arm to try to comfort him. Nothing was making sense right now. It felt like the world was spinning around him and like he could throw up. “Do I need to get the doctor here to help you?”

“No. No,” Negan shook his head over and over again starting to realize what was happening here. God, he was going fucking crazy and seeing things. It felt like he was on the verge of a panic attack with the way his chest was tightening. With everything that he had just said in front of Laura, he knew that she also was going to think he was insane. Standing up straight, he dragged his hand down over the side of his face and feigned a smile. “I was actually just joking with you. That’s what this was.”

“A joke?” she repeated and Negan eagerly nodded his head. An awkward expression filled her features when Laura looked over Negan. Laura thought he was crazy. Hell, he thought he was crazy too. “Are you sure? Do you need me to stay with you?”

“No, I just need some space,” Negan assured her with a shrug of his shoulders, shoving his hands into his pockets. Not fighting with him, Laura turned on her heel before Negan called out to her. “Laura? Could you please not tell anyone about this today?”

“Of course,” Laura muttered before heading back toward what she was doing near The Sanctuary. Hopefully she would keep her word or else it would get back to Simon and somehow he would convince everyone that he was not mentally fit to be the leader. Which meant he would lose the help that he needed to actually find Y/N.

“Do you think I look like this one right now?” Y/N’s voice spoke up and it made every muscle in Negan’s body clench. Turning to face her again, Negan could see that she was observing one of the walkers that was on the fence more thoroughly. “I figure after all the rot and body decay, this has to be what I look like right now, right?”

“Stop,” Negan demanded when she chomped her teeth together almost mimicking the walker that was before her.

“Do you think I’ve killed someone? All that blood and rot coming out of my mouth,” Y/N pointed out toward the mouth of the walker again and Negan felt his heart racing inside of his chest. A muscle in his jaw flexed with his stare becoming more serious. “Aw. Negan. Loosen up. It’s not like I’m dead or anything.”

“You’re not really here,” Negan whispered to himself, turning on his heel as he headed back toward The Sanctuary. An overwhelming sense of guilt and agony filled him again almost like the first time he lost her. More than anything he was trying to keep it together when he headed back so people didn’t see him losing it again.

“Hey. Why are you running off?” Y/N’s voice beckoned him from behind. A long, overwhelmed sound escaped his lips. When he reached for the door, he stopped when he felt her fingers wrapping around his wrist to stop him. It felt so real and a tremoring breath fell from him. “You’re leaving me again?”

Swallowing down, Negan tried to avoid looking at Y/N as he walked back into The Sanctuary. The sound of her footsteps following him were heard again, but he tried to block it out, “Typical Negan. When things get hard he runs. Abandons me. Like he always did. Just like you did that night. Leaving me in that small town all alone.”

“Shut up!” Negan finally erupted, turning on his heel and it had everyone in the hallway jumping. Everyone looked around trying to figure out who he was talking to, but they just likely assumed that they were making too much noise so they all went silent. A smirk tugged at Y/N’s features when he swiftly started making it back up the stairs. When he almost reached the bedroom, he came to a stop when he noticed Y/N was still following him. Making sure he was alone, Negan surveyed the hallway before turning to look at her. “I need whatever this is to stop. I’m about to go be with our children and I can’t be having a mental break in front of them. Please. Leave me alone.”

“So now you want to get rid of me?” she was offended when Negan reached for the door again and pushed into it. An annoyed breath fell from Negan’s throat when she pushed through with him. Sitting at the center of the bed was Evie and Nathan staring up at him with big eyes. Closing the door, Negan stood before his children and felt like his entire body was on fire.

“I need to take a shower,” Negan announced, his voice raspier than normal. “Maybe after we do that, the three of us can go for a walk around outside before I go out looking again tonight.”

“That’d be nice,” Evie nodded her head, but she seemed worried with the way that Negan looked. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Negan assured her, looking back toward the door to see that Y/N was leaning back against it. Heading for the bathroom, Negan stopped and swallowed down loudly. Everything felt so surreal right now. Negan didn’t know if he hadn’t had enough sleep or if something weird was actually going on. He really felt like he was having a mental breakdown. Especially since he could see Y/N standing there like she was perfectly okay, yet no one else could. “Evie? Do you see your mother?”

“What do you mean?” Evie replied back, unsure how to answer. Holding his finger up toward the door, Negan noticed that he was shaking an incredibly large amount when Y/N looked over toward their children that were sitting down on the bed together. Evie gazed over at the area that Negan was pointing at and worry began to flood her young features, “Are you asking me if I see her there? I don’t see anything daddy.”

“I meant,” Negan whimpered, licking his lips when he shakily lowered his hand. He didn’t even know why he asked her that. He knew that Y/N wasn’t really there. That was when his eyes started burning over. He broke. He finally broke. Something was seriously wrong with him because he was seeing someone that wasn’t there. “I meant in your sleep.”

“Oh, yeah. Sometimes,” Evie didn’t know how to answer when she reached for a toy that Nathan was outstretching his hand out to grab. Helping him, she played with Nathan in attempts to keep him calm. “Daddy, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Negan lied reaching up to wipe at his face when he started crying. At this point, he couldn’t hold back on his emotions. They were just coming whether he wanted them to or not. Taking in a deep breath, he pointed toward the bathroom again and nodded. “I’m going to shower.”

Making a quick escape, Negan stumbled into the bathroom and kicked out of his boots. Heading for the shower, he turned the water on and dropped his head forward. Counting to himself, he tried to get himself to calm down when he started crying again. Stealing another look back, Negan could see that Y/N was still there and she was in the bathroom with him. It felt like the air was being stolen from his lungs and the room was spinning.

“You can’t just block me out Negan,” she declared drawing him to lower down onto the ground. Pulling himself into the shower, he remained fully clothed when he started breaking down again. The water was freezing and it hurt like hell with it pouring down in over his flesh, but he was punishing himself. Rocking back and forth, Negan covered his head when he heard her sigh. “Negan?”

Covering his ears, Negan slammed his eyes shut in hopes that he would be able to pull himself from this because this was only hurting him more. God knows how long he was in there before he felt hands pressing in over his shoulders. Lifting his head up, he saw that Evie was knelt down in front of him. When she felt how cold he was, she scrambled for the shower to turn it off.

“What are you doing?” Negan questioned watching Evie scramble to grab a towel to wrap it around him. “Evie?”

“I heard you crying,” Evie informed him with worry in her eyes. Trying to tug on his hands, she was eager to get him out of the shower, but he wouldn’t budge. “Daddy, I need you to get up. You’re freezing. You need to change and…”

Even though he knew he was doing everything wrong, Negan was locked inside himself. Everything hurt and he felt like he was dying. Reality was really starting to sink in for him and he hated everything right now. He was broken and it was a broken that you couldn’t fix.

“Daddy please,” Evie begged, struggling to get Negan up, but he wouldn’t budge. “Daddy get up.”

With a final unsuccessful tug, Evie fell back onto her bottom and let out a defeated sound. Tears swelled up in her eyes seeing her father having a complete and total breakdown in front of her, “You’re not the only one that lost her!”

A whimper fell from Negan’s throat when she threw her hands up in the air, Evie’s cries filling the bathroom when she stared out at him with pain in her eyes, “We lost mom. And if you keep up with the way you are acting we are going to lose you too. You’re not the only one that lost her dad. You only just got her back. She was with us the whole time. And she was a good mom. So please. Please. You have to stop.”

“I’m sorry,” Negan’s voice was broken when he shakily got up to his knees and threw his hands up in the air. There was an ache that would likely never go away. He was heartbroken and he didn’t know how to stop it. “I’m so sorry. I just…I don’t know what to do. I hurt. It hurts so much and…”

Dropping his head down, Negan’s hands braced on the ground when his sobs started to fill the air again. Getting up, Evie slid forward to wrap her arms around Negan while he cried. Shakily, he lifted his arms to wrap her up in a hug. Hell, he couldn’t explain to her what was going on right now, but he knew he needed to start faking it for the children. She was right. He was all they had and he had to figure things out. If not for himself, he needed to do it for them.

----

It had been another rough few weeks. Anyone who saw Negan likely knew that he was a fucking disaster right now. It was rare that he made a public appearance in The Sanctuary lately. Instead he had other people running things for him. He was unkept. Still broken and depressed. His hair was messy and longer than normal. His beard was longer and he just wore whatever the hell was comfortable. Every day he still went out searching for Y/N, but he found nothing. By this point he had pretty much given up completely. There was no sense in searching for someone who was so obviously gone. And someday soon he knew that he was going to have to stop it all together.

One of the only positives was that when he was here, he was spending all of his time with Evie and Nathan. He imagined that was something that Y/N would have liked about this. Then again, she probably wouldn’t have liked it all that much since he promised her that he would be going to the farm with the children and he hadn’t done that yet.

Lifting his eyes from where he was seated on the bed with Nathan, Negan could see that Evie was still working on whatever it was that she had been for a while now. Since Evie found Negan in the shower like she had, things had been awkward between them. Negan knew that she saw the broken pieces of him. It made things uncomfortable. Truthfully? They were both so fucked up over losing Y/N. They were both broken and there was no fixing it. The only thing that could fix it was Y/N and they were both coming to terms with the fact that she was never coming back. Well, in the physical sense for Negan at least.

He kept it to himself, but Negan was still seeing Y/N. Daily. Thankfully, right now she was nowhere to be found and that made him happy. Every time she showed up, he had a meltdown and he knew it. It was something he couldn’t explain to Evie, so he likely came off snappy whenever she’d ask him about it. Negan felt like a freak and there was nothing he could do to change that. If this was the normal world, he could get help, but the world wasn’t what it used to be. He couldn’t get help. If he went to the doctor here, it was just a doctor. Not a psychiatrist. And if he did ask for help, somehow it would get out to Simon or someone else that didn’t have faith in him and he would lose everything. He couldn’t lose everything right now. Not when he still needed the resources.

“Do you know what this is?” Negan pointed toward the image in the book that he was reading to Nathan. Every day he was trying to help Nathan become more comfortable with talking and learning things. He knew that Y/N insisted that he was smart, but he didn’t want people to think that there was something wrong with Nathan, so he was working with him.

“A dog,” Nathan was excited to answer, lifting his head up to get praise from Negan who nodded slowly. “A brown one.”

“Yes it is,” Negan watched Nathan flipping the next page while he stroked his fingers through Nathan’s hair. Nathan was cuddled up beside him while they worked together. It was something Negan honestly tried to do every day. He had someone working with both Nathan and Evie, but he was putting a lot of work into helping Nathan. “And what about this?”

“A bed!” Nathan’s voice was high pitched, but it made Negan happy that he started to get Nathan talking more.

“What about the color?” Negan tapped on the page and it was one where Nathan had to think about things. “You got this.”

“Red?” Nathan’s eyebrows furrowed, his facial expression showing that he was unsure. Nodding slowly had Nathan giggling when he looked to the book again.

“Good boy,” Negan praised Nathan on getting something right again. The sound of Evie moving her chair caught their attention when they finished with the book, but Negan was still eager to get Nathan talking again. Setting the book aside, Negan tapped at Nathan’s nose and it had Nathan rocking back with laughter. “What’s this?”

“My nose daddy,” Nathan pushed Negan’s hand aside with a big belly giggle when Negan started tickling at Nathan’s stomach. The uncontrollable laughter fell from Nathan’s throat with the way that Negan was playing with him and it had Negan smiling. Probably for the first time in a long time. “Stop!”

“No, I don’t think I will,” Negan lowered down to pepper kisses against Nathan’s face. It had happy sounds filling the air which lightened the mood of everything. It made Negan happy in some way that Nathan was too young to understand that Y/N was gone. Between Negan and Evie there was so much sadness, but with Nathan there was still a sense of purity and innocence. He was happy still and Negan needed that right now. Finally stopping, Negan saw the happy tears at the corner of Nathan’s eyes when Negan rest back on his elbow. “Okay, what about your name?”

“Hey daddy,” Evie called out with an excited breath trying to get Negan’s attention, but he held his finger up motioning her to wait. Arching his eyebrow up, Negan was looking to Nathan expectantly while Nathan grabbed a hold of his toes. “Daddy?”

“Hold on Evie,” Negan requested, his attention locked on Nathan. When Nathan didn’t answer, Negan reached out to playfully stroke his fingers through his son’s hair to mess it. Having Negan ignoring her had the smile fading from her face while Negan played with Nathan. “I know you know this answer. Don’t try to fool your daddy.”

“It will just be a second,” Evie spoke up once more with uncertainty in her tone. Looking to what she had been working on, she pushed it out toward the center of the table in hopes that she could catch Negan’s attention. “Daddy?”

“Nathan,” Nathan finally answered, his pronunciation of the word a bit broken since it was still a little hard for him.

“And how old are you?” Negan pushed after clapping his hands together. The lines in his forehead grew with his dimples becoming more prominent while he watched his son closely. “How old?”

“I’m three!” Nathan responded and Negan inhaled deeply before shaking his head. “No?”

“Not yet. Almost though!” Negan reasoned with his son, grabbing a hold of Nathan’s hands to wiggle his arms. “You’re still two!”

“Oh!” Nathan’s mouth made a big circle shape and it had Negan snickering.

“What’s this?” Negan reached for Nathan’s toes, bringing Nathan’s foot up so he could blow raspberries at the bottom of his son’s foot. It had Nathan hollering out in laughter which had Negan laughing too.

“Mine,” Nathan pulled his foot back away from Negan making Negan feel some sense of joy with how enthusiastic Nathan was being. “Toes.”

“Good boy,” Negan cheered on his son before pointing toward his own chest. “Who am I?”

“My daddy,” Nathan almost squeaked out in enthusiasm reaching out to sink his fingers into Negan’s hair. Pulling Negan close, Nathan kissed at Negan’s cheek before Negan started to return the gesture. Peppering kisses over Nathan’s face, Negan tickled at his son’s abdomen while they laughed together.

“Daddy?” Evie called out again after allowing Negan some time with Nathan, but this time Negan didn’t even give her a response when he pointed at Nathan’s chest again.

“So how old are you again?” Negan wanted to get Nathan to say it right this time.

“Two,” Nathan had the right answer this time and Negan threw his hands up in the air to cheer on his son.

“That’s right!” Negan gave a proud nod and he was being dramatic with the way that he was saying things hoping to get Nathan excited to learn. Reaching for Nathan, Negan pulled him in close to give him a big hug, making silly noises when they played together.

“Hey daddy, can I just…” Evie began trying to get her father’s attention if only for a moment.

“Evie!” Negan snapped when he heard Evie calling out to him again, his eyebrows furrowed showing that he was angry with her trying to get his attention as he lifted his head up to stare out at her. “I asked you to give me a goddamn minute. Fuck! When I’m ready for you, I will let you know. You don’t have to keep saying my name. I heard you the first fucking time.”

After he said that, Negan immediately regretted it when he saw her face turn a light shade of red. The expression she gave showed that he hurt her feelings before she dropped her head down. Sitting up, Negan went to say something, but he didn’t know what to say with her face growing a deeper shade of red. Nathan crawled into Negan’s lap in attempts to continue to try to play with him. Clearing his throat, Negan looked to Nathan who was playing with Negan’s fingers and Negan could feel a lump growing in his throat with Evie’s reaction to him yelling at her.

Dropping her pencil, Evie pushed the paper that she was working on even further out away from her in an unhurried movement. By her expression, Negan could tell that she was doing everything she could to hold back on crying with her head lowered.

“What do you want, Evie?” Negan finally spoke, adjusting Nathan in his lap noticing the way that her fingers curled around the edge of the table. There was a single tear that slid down her face and it made Negan feel guilty. “Evie?”

“Never mind. It’s not important anyways. It doesn’t matter. I’m sorry,” she sniffled, pushing her chair further away from the table. Lifting her hand, she wiped at her face with the back of it and Negan knew he should have been saying something, but he didn’t. “Can I please go to the bathroom?”

“Evie,” Negan frowned lifting one of his hands to bury his head into his palm realizing that he just upset his daughter.

“Please,” she begged still keeping her head tipped away from him because she didn’t want him to see her upset.

“Of course honey, you don’t have to ask me that,” Negan tried speaking softly to her since he knew he fucked up with the way he yelled at her. Swiftly she stood up from the table and was quick to run into the bathroom. The sound of the fan turning on was heard and he knew that she did that to likely hide from him that she was crying from what he had done. With a frown, Negan curled his arm tightly around Nathan to pull him close. Standing up, Negan brought Nathan with him when he headed over toward the table to look at what Evie obviously had been calling him over for. Grabbing what he realized was a drawing, he pulled it up to see that it was him playing with Nathan on the bed that she had drew. “Fuck.”

For a ten-year-old, it was actually incredibly well done. There was no questioning that Evie had a real talent for art. Even this early on it was obvious. He remembered when she was little how she was drawing all the time. He thought he got her started on that since he always used to doodle and draw. But this was beyond anything he had seen her do in the past.

Letting out a hiss, he looked back over his shoulder at the bathroom door wishing he would have never snapped at her like that. She was just excited to show him something that she had done and it was probably something that she was proud of.

“Good job,” Y/N’s voice was heard from the other side of the room. Looking toward the couch, Negan felt a pain at the center of his chest and he huffed when he saw her sitting there. So much for having a day without seeing her. “You’re really working on getting father of the year. Aren’t you?”

“Please, not now,” Negan begged, lifting his free hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose in hopes of getting this to stop. “I can’t take this right now.”

“Well excuse me,” she breathed out, throwing her hands up dramatically when she leaned back against the couch as if to get comfortable. Why Negan was seeing her truly drove him mad, but he was hoping that he would stop having these visions, not that she would keep coming back. “You make our daughter cry and I’m just supposed to keep my mouth shut? You’re really dropping the ball with Evie, Negan. You’re her favorite and you’re ruining her relationship with you.”

“I’m not,” Negan reasoned with her, noticing that Nathan was looking up at him confused since Negan was ultimately talking to thin air. Hopefully Nathan thought he was talking to himself instead of picking up on his weird habits. “I snapped at her one time. It was a mistake. It won’t happen again.”

“Right. Keep telling yourself that,” she put her feet up on the coffee table when Negan headed for the bed to sit down with Nathan. He wanted to keep working with Nathan, hoping to block out Y/N. “So you’re just going to let her cry in the bathroom?”

“I have two children. When she’s ready for me to talk to her, she will come out,” Negan reasoned handing over one of the toys that he had gotten with Y/N from that store from the night everything happened to Nathan. “I can’t stop paying attention to Nathan just because she’s crying. I also need to allow her the right to her privacy. She’s in the bathroom, she doesn’t want me in there with her.”

“She’s starting to think that Nathan is your favorite,” Y/N spoke up having Negan grumbling under his breath. “You’re barely talking to her and interacting with her. You’re spending all of your free time with Nathan. And when you are with her, she’s taking care of you. You’re not acting like her father, Negan. Being a father was the thing you did best and you’re failing.”

“No, I’m a good father,” Negan corrected, his eyes lifting up angrily from where he was seated on the bed with Nathan. “I’ve been spending all of my time with both of them. I’m being a good father. I’m looking for their mother and I’m doing my best.”

Hearing the sound of the bathroom door opening, Negan watched as Evie walked beyond the table instead of going back to her drawing. Sadness flooded his body when he saw her drop down on the opposite couch that he had been seeing Y/N on. Evie turned and faced the back of the couch after grabbing a pillow to hold onto it.

“You’re not going to go back and finish working on what you were doing?” Negan inquired, speaking loud enough to let Evie know that he was talking to her.

“It’s crap anyways,” Evie retorted with a sigh, squeezing the pillow tightly in her arms.

“I can’t imagine anything you do is crap,” Negan didn’t know if he should tell her that he looked at the drawing or not since she had run off after everything. “Do you want to show me what you were working on?”

“You don’t want to see it,” Evie replied back and Negan could tell that he had upset her. “Just keep playing with Nathan.”

“I’m sure Nathan and I would love to see what you were working on,” Negan suggested feigning a smile in hopes that she would look at him, but she wasn’t. Brushing his fingers through Nathan’s hair, Negan could see that Nathan was preoccupied with the toy Negan gave him and Negan stood up from the bed. Heading over to Evie, Negan knelt down and caressed his fingers over her shoulder. “Hey…listen…”

A long exhale fell from his throat when he tried to get Evie to look at him, but he could hear her crying still which meant she was fighting looking at him, “I didn’t mean to yell at you Evie, I was just…”

The sound of a knock on the door was heard and it made Negan huff out loudly. The person at the other end didn’t wait as the door pushed open, “What?”

“Gregory is going to be stopping by in about an hour,” Simon informed Negan, grasping tightly to the door while he stared out at Negan from across the room. “Apparently he has information about something that is going on with Rick and the rest of the crew. It’s life and death according to him. So I suggest you clean up and get ready because you are going to be at that meeting.”

“I’m kind of in the middle of something,” Negan declared with a frown hating to hear that he was being demanded of something when he was about to make up with his daughter. Well, at least try to. “It can wait.”

“No Negan, it can’t,” Simon snarled at Negan, moving further into the room when he threw his hands up in the air. “He said life or death. So I suggest you take it seriously because that means it could effect the lives of everyone here. Including your children. So if you care about your children, you will get up, get ready and be prepared for that fucking meeting in an hour.”

“Got it,” Negan grumbled under his breath. For once, this did actually seem like a big deal. Once Simon left, Negan looked back to Evie who was still facing the back of the couch. “Evie?”

“Don’t worry about it dad,” she whispered quietly, but he still managed to hear her. “You have more important things to deal with right now. Go do whatever you have to do.”

“Baby,” Negan frowned realizing that Simon coming in and telling him what he did wasn’t going to fix anything when it came to Evie. They should have been having a discussion where he apologized and she had his full attention. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she was still hurt and Negan knew that.

“Listen. Daddy is gonna go get cleaned up for this meeting. After it’s over, how about while Nathan is taking his nap you and I watch a movie together? Maybe we can set this area up, get someone to make some popcorn for us. Get some snacks. What do you say?” Negan caressed over Evie’s shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. “I love you sweetheart.”

“I love you too,” she breathed out with Negan leaning forward to press a kiss over her temple. He wished she would have said more, but he hurt her. There was no denying that.

Even though he didn’t have any passion in what was happening, Negan took a shower. Cut his hair. Trimmed his beard. Put on the leather jacket, slicked back his hair and pretended. He feigned that smile and that arrogance. He went down to that meeting and did what he had to do. He put on his show. That’s what he always did. But when Rick showed up? Well that’s when everything changed.

At this point in his life he had dropped things with Rick in the name of finding Y/N. But when he was shot in the leg and they shot out the windows of The Sanctuary. That’s when this became personal. That’s when he knew that he had to start focusing on finishing this war. Rick and his crew put his children in danger and Negan didn’t even know if they were okay.

Pacing to the side of the small trailer that he was trapped in, Negan felt the overwhelming heat surrounding him. Trying to look through the small cracks of the boarded-up windows of the trailer, he found himself in a sense of panic. He didn’t even know if his children were okay. And the last thing he did was hurt his daughter’s feelings. More than anything he was scared. Scared if he would make it back to his children. And he was left wondering if they were all right. Now, Negan was going to have to end this war once and for all before he could make the world right for his children. Because Rick made this personal when he involved his children in the danger he was bringing down on Negan and The Sanctuary. And he wasn’t okay with that.

----

Tags: @slutlanna976 @fuckthis-and-fuckthat @jennydehavilland @felicity291 @ibelongtonegan @smallsadjellyfish @labyrinthofheartagrams @msjamesmarch @thebeautysurrounds @hotfornegan @redmercysugar @caprithebunny @tuttifuckinfruitty @emoryhemsworth @a-girl-interupted @akumune @stoneyggirl2 @xsarcasticwriterx @haleygreen23 @xhannahbananax03 @sanctuaryforthelost @burningredaffair @killaweiser @dead-of-niight @ayumi-wolf @neganswoman @ravenrose18

#Negan #Negan x reader #Negan fanfiction #Jeffrey Dean Morgan #The Walking Dead #twd fanfiction #negan x you #Negan Smith

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bunni-v1 · 6 months

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Congrats for 500 followers! If it’s alright, could I have A, G, J, K, P, and S from the sfw prompt list for Idia? Thanks!

🍓Thank you so much! I'm happy to have so many people who like me so much! This event is good practice for me too, and a breather from the intensity of the fic I'm writing right now. (I'm more excited to write for Idia than anything else, he's just so silly, you know?)

A - Affection: Idia is quite a nervous wreck when it comes to affection, that's for sure. Up until getting into a relationship, he thought the couples that were all mushy-gushy with each other were gag-worthy. However, now that he's in a relationship he's desperately craving that same kind of touch. He's like a feral cat, you've gotta coax him into it, and once he's into it he won't want to stop. Seriously, if you catch him at a good time he's so damn clingy. Lays on top of you, have you sit in his lap while he games, cuddles up to you during movie marathons, smothers you in kisses, all the nasty stuff. He'd rather die than be seen doing it in public though.

G - Gentle: Believe me or not, Idia is very gentle. Yeah, he's sarcastic and sharp with other people, but with you he's different. I mean, he's still... sarcastic and sharp, but it's playful and light. He's having fun and he's trying to make you smile, and that's his form of being gentle. If you were ever really hurt by something he said he might just have to end it all. Seriously, it would make him feel so bad, that he'd be groveling at your feet for weeks. Physically, however, I'd say he's gentle but really clumsy. He treats you like the most expensive piece of jewelry in the world, but he also has accidentally almost suffocated you under his weight at some point.

J - Jealousy: Idia is the most jealous man you've ever met. ("You know other men?") He's got an inferiority complex mixed with imposter syndrome and depression, leave him alone. He's not going to force you to stop hanging out with people by any means -- in fact, he's kinda jealous that you have so many friends in the first place. Still, he huffs and puffs and pouts about how much better they would be for you and how much happier you'd be with them. Again he won't act on anything unless he REALLY felt threatened. Like, if Vil ACTUALLY made a move on you? Game Over, Idia is running from his room to intervene.

K - Kisses: Just like everything else, Idia is an AKWARD kisser. It's not his fault he's so anxious, okay, he's doing his best. Idia's specialty, however, is lazy kisses. You know, the ones where you just lay next to each other early in the morning (in his case, late at night), and just kiss slow and easy, like there's nothing else more important. Those are his faves. Speaking of, he LOVES to kiss your cheeks -- you're just so cute when he catches you off guard. It's the same for him, your little surprise kisses on his cheeks may send him into a heart attack, but he does love them so much.

P - Patience (how easily angered are they?): He has a temper, that's for sure. While it's rarely ever directed at you, it can be kind of scary to see him rage. I mean, his hair literally turns orange and flames up -- and damn is it hot when he's angry. Still, his temper only really applies to things like games or tv shows, rarely would he ever have a reason to aim it at you, unless you destroyed his limited edition merch or something.

S - Security (how protective are they?): Idia is a VERY protective person. He's been through a lot, and he's lost a lot, now that he has you he won't be losing you. He texts you constantly throughout the day to see how you are feeling, and what you're up to. If you're stressed, you are always free to come to his dorm and raid his room for all the comfy blankets and yummy snacks you need. He also literally keeps an eye on you from the campus security feed -- if he sees someone bothering you, either he or Ortho will be there within seconds to ensure you're happy and safe. On the other hand, you standing up for him and making him feel like he's worthy of your love and all the good things he has is all he ever wants. It's all he needs.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #x reader #bunni's treats 🧁#idia shroud x reader #idia shroud

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lewsnumerounofan · 1 year

Text

team bonding (lh x reader)

summary: you may work as a personal trainer for lewis, but that doesn’t mean the two of you have to keep your relationship professional.

notes: nswf, coworker relationship, unprotected sex, fingering, public sex kinda??, maybe choking?, 1.8k words, !!!!not!!!! edited

masterlist

+ i wrote this while playing hay day and also i don’t know how past/present tense works and i’ll never learn. i’m sorry. was sorry. will be. idk.

“Lewis we can’t-”

Your words are cut off by Lewis’ full lips slanting over yours, his hands already rucking up your flimsy athletic top. He’s got you pressed up against the wall in a matter of seconds.

“Lewis we’re in public,” you grit out, but he’s already pulling off your shirt, ducking beneath your pushing arms to tongue at the exposed skin of your breast, your neck. He’s so warm against your skin, so needy that you almost let him. Do let him, for a moment. But when you look up from Lewis’ mouth you’re met with your own dazed reflection in the mirrored wall opposite you. Already your neck is marked purple and red, and you look disheveled under the frantic hands of the man almost on his knees before you. This is wrong. More than that, it’s wrong in the Mercedes training center, where anyone could come walking in at any moment.

“Lewis, stop.”

Lewis pulls back, his hands lighting delicately on your hips. Brows furrowed with concern he follows your eye-line to the mirror. You watch as his expression changes to one you’d grown all too familiar with--he doesn’t even both to hide his smirk as he rounds on you again, teeth biting into the plush skin of lip.

“What, you don’t like watching?” he asks.

Of course he’s not thinking about getting caught. Or maybe he is, maybe he likes the idea of it. After all, he did make a career off adrenaline.

“No that’s not-”

“So you do like watching,” he says, and the teasing heat in his voice makes you blush and turn your face away. He loves winding you up like this. From the first day you met he’d been trying to press your buttons, trying to see just how far he could push the quiet new staff member. You couldn’t really blame him--Lewis was curious by nature, so when you had arrived to temporarily stand in on Angela’s personal training duties, he hadn’t been able to keep himself away. It had started off innocently enough. A few private glances during team debreifings, a few unnecessarily long touches when correcting his workout form. Eventually though, it had landed you here. Pressed to the wall, his muscled thigh thick between your legs.

“We can’t do this here, Lewis. We’ll get caught,” you say, but he only raises an eyebrow, letting a lazy grin curve across his face.

“What, you don’t want our coworkers seeing you like this?” he coos, pressing his hands flat to the exposed skin of your breats, the tender marks he’d left. Under his tattooed fingers your breathing becomes quicker, a fact he notes with a quick click of his tongue. His hands trail lower, fingers slipping deftly under the waistband of your shorts and leaving you fighting for words.

“Or even worse… like this,” he says, and then Lewis is tugging you around until you’re facing the mirror. You both groan at the image reflected back; you, shaky legs and bruised chest, and Lewis, one arm banding around your middle and the other down the front of your pants. You couldn’t look away from his liquid gaze, heavy and languid in the mirror. Even as his fingers dared reach lower, brushing through the brazen heat of your core.

“Lewis…” you say, but this time you’re begging him to keep going rather than stop. Every part of you is narrowed to the big fingers playing between your legs, touching you everywhere except where you need them most. Desperate for something --anything-- you let yourself grind back into the hard shape of Lewis at your ass. He hisses, his grip on you tightening.

“Playing dirty, huh?” he says, but his voice is hoarse and you know his resolve is wearing thin. He keeps you there for a moment longer before finally circling hard on your clit. You whine into him and you can’t help but buck your hips because Lewis is taking up every sense in your body, legs going weak as he licks up your neck. To satisfy the needy sounds you’re making he pushes two fingers into you, murmuring you can take it as the stretch becomes the only thought in your head, the only thing you can feel. You can barely stand as the knot in your stomach tightens and tightens, leaving you gasping and shaking until--

“Open your eyes.”

Lewis’ command cuts through your hazy world of pleasure and you force your lazy gaze back to the mirror, to the sight of Lewis’ strong arms tensing around you, to the wrecked view of you; cheeks rosy, mouth bitten and red. You watch Lewis finger fuck you--watch as his dark eyes practically devour your writhing body. The result of Lewis’ fingers runs down the insides of your thighs, and the image is so intimate, so filthy it has you cumming.

Lewis barely gives you time to breathe before he’s jostling you over to one of the many weight benches scattered across the room. He navigates your wobbly limbs until you’re on your knees, elbows planted on the plastic-leather of the workout equipment. Behind you now, Lewis slows long enough to trace mindless, gentle patterns on the smooth skin of your back. He looks thoughtful, caring, almost, as you turn back to watch him. But then his head lifts and he catches your eye. Smirks. Bastard, you think. The soft touches from before disappear, replaced by his rough hands dragging down your shorts and then his own. You don’t care that he can see you staring as Lewis pulls his thick cock from his boxers, tip already sticky with precum.

For a split second you consider crawling around to taste him, the sudden urge to have him fat and silky in your mouth overwhelming. The smell of him, the way he would talk you through relaxing your throat around his cock. The small, breathy noises he would make when you hum.

Lewis, though, has other ideas. Through the mirror you watch him spit into his palm, rubbing it over his length before notching himself into you. Here he pauses, tattooed chest rising and falling rapidly.

“You okay?” he checks. You respond by pushing your hips back, desperate to feel him inside you despite the heady overstimulation from your last orgasm. You need this--need him--in a primal, untamed way you’ve never expeirenced before. Every part of your mind constricts to where he’s touching you. The warmth of his big hands on your hips. The press of his knees inside yours, pushing your legs open and wide for him. And then--the slow, steady press of his cock as he forces you open. You can’t do anything but take him, mouth open and gasping as Lewis stretches you, fills you, completes you. Doing so good for me, he says, words tight and edged with a moan as he gives you more, more, more. You can’t think past where you’re connected. When he finally bottoms out neither of you move, too consumed by pleasure. You manage to crack open your eyes to see Lewis, chest gleaming faintly with sweat, lip between his teeth.

“So good,” he’s saying, but you can barely hear him becuause you’re watching his arms flex as he readjusts his grip on your hips.

“S’always so good with you,” he murmurs in your neck as he leans forward to kiss up your spine. The change of angle has him even deeper, has you both moaning as Lewis buries himself in your hair.

“How do you do this to me. Everytime,” he says, and all you can say is baby, baby before Lewis is pulling out and slamming back in, rocking himself into you with enough force that the bench moves. You hardly manage to keep yourself propped on your elbows as he fills you up over and over, his own groans spilling into your ears. Already the knot in your stomach is back, accompanied by a dull ache from your previous orgasm. As Lewis winds a hand through your hair, he loops his other underneath you to again rub over your swollen clit. The sensitivity has your legs clenching uncontrolably, your vision blurring with each new pass of his fingers.

“Lew, it’s too much,” you try, but he only redoubles his efforts. He covers you completely, lips tugging at your neck, hand slowly closing around your throat, hips still pistoning into yours. You’re intoxicated by the power he has over you, the complete way in which he weilds it. The fingers gripping your neck are more a show of dominance than anything else, Lewis’ way of saying you’re mine. If you were any less helpless you’d consider fighting back, giving him the sass he loved so much. But you’re drunk on his cock, on the way he knows your body. And when he bites at your ear and repeats his words from earlier you’re helpless.

“Open your eyes.”

In the dim remnants of day light Lewis rises from behind you like a god, the deep cuts of his shoulders and chest carved from shadow. Below you, his arm disappears fully into darkness as he works at your clit, muscles appearing and reappearing as he moves. He’s got you all pressed up against him, leverage gained by the big, tattooed hand splayed like a necklace across your throat. Still thrusting, Lewis locks his dark eyes with you and you can’t look away, even as you feel yourself tipping over the edge.

“Lew, I’m gonna-”

“I know, I got you,” he’s panting, and then you’re both collapsing onto the bench, gasping at the heat of him finishing inside you, the mind-numb clench of your second orgasm.

“Lewis, Lewis.”

Tears pool at your waterline as your legs keep shaking.

“I know. I know, I got you,” he repeats, and he grabs for your hand, squeezing it tight as the two of you lie there, breathing.

Quiet. For a little while it’s just quiet as you collect yourself and feel the drip of Lewis down your thighs. You could live and die for this, you decided. These moments with him. And then he’s shifting, drawing himself up and retrieving your clothes, moving slowly in the low light. You’re cold without him.

He comes back to you though, kissing at your shoulder, your knee, your cheek as he insists on dressing you himself. Only when you’re tying up your hair does he at last relent, settling to trace doodles over your the exposed skin at your ankle instead.

“Told you,” he says. You glance at him, at the mischievous smile he’s failing to hide.

“Told me what?” you ask. You can’t help it, but you find yourself smiling too as he pauses his finger-drawing to look at you.

“Told you we wouldn’t get caught.”

“Shut up Lewis.”

#bigkeepup #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton fic #f1 smut #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton x reader #f1 x reader

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crucifiedramblings · 2 months

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Fool Me Once — Dr. Gregory House x F!Reader (Part I)

Hello! This is my first Gregory House fic, I've been truly obsessed with this old man recently. No warnings for this chapter (edit: mention of pill abuse), but I will list full work warnings below.

Word Count: 789

Content Warnings: Angst, implied/referenced drug use & addiction, eventual smut, swearing, graphic depictions of medical gore

Next Part: N/A

The pills hadn’t been in House’s system for a few days— he would have to rebuild his Vicodin tolerance again. Nothing like a “V-Break” to get the same hazy punch as before— the name could use some work, though. House lazily looked at you through heavily-lidded eyes, his head dipping to the side to look at his own vitals on the small monitor to the right of his bedside.

You had only been on House’s diagnostic team for a few days when he collapsed in the middle of a briefing. His toxicity screen showed a spike in narcotic levels, and you flushed his system while he was out. He argued that it was doing more harm than good, but you replaced the chemical with comfort medications until he had clean blood. Once it ran clear, and he was no longer dying— you practically spoon-fed his Vicodin right to him.

Maybe it was the sympathy— no, empathy— of being a former addict. Maybe it was the fact that you hated seeing House detoxing. Maybe it was because you knew how sick he must have felt. Whatever it was— it triumphed over any nobility you held as a doctor as you placed three white pills into House’s shaking hands with a reassuring smile.

House looked at you with an almost frazzled gaze, dry-swallowing the pills as if you were going to snatch them away if he took too long. You sat on a stool by House’s side, holding a small styrofoam cup’s straw to his lips. He gratefully sipped, a soft whistling coming from the lid as House greedily gulped down the frigid water. He gave you a nod, as if to say ‘thank you’ without the words ever leaving his mouth. You only nodded in response.

House asked for your name, a raspy request given between sips and wheezes. You gave it to him, although skeptical he didn’t know the name of the newest hire on his team— House was a very thorough man in his decisions. He gave you a lazy grin, giggling to himself and eventually drifting off. At least the pills did what you hoped, giving House some much-needed rest. He looked so much more peaceful like that— no longer sporting a leaping forehead vein, teeth no longer bared— he looked at ease. Like he wasn’t in any pain.

After several torturous hours— the ones that bled into days, which crashed down into weeks— House was cleared to return to work . . . although he technically never left, and was sure to remind everyone of such knowledge. He walked circles around his bed with a newfound vigor, having just replenished his fix for the morning. House’s limp was barely noticeable when he first dosed, and you were consistent in tracking how his decreased mobility affected his mood by the end of the day.

The truth was, you were used to House— but you were not accustomed to sober House— the version of himself that he hid away until he could take time off work. The persona that House barely allowed to see the light of day if unnecessary. The facade that reminded House too much of his father in a certain light.

You didn’t blame him— you used to be the same way— although he didn’t know that much from your file. He treated you like some brown-nosing geek, saving his life to look good in front of the new boss. House didn’t understand why someone would fight so hard to save him, and then hand him the pills that almost killed him in the same breath. You didn’t quite understand it either— maybe it was the words Wilson muttered by House’s bedside when he was still in a perpetual coma.

“I can’t lose you yet— fight it.”

Maybe it was the pang of hurt you felt at the sight of him when he awoke— dripping with sweat, pale, scratching at his own intravenous drip to make himself feel something other than the pounding of his head and the bile in his belly. Whatever it was— the semblance spoke to you well enough to place his own killer into his discolored palms.

It was worth it, the way House’s gaze lit up— he angled his head to the ceiling tiles and hastily, shakily swallowed the pills without any consideration. You almost took pity on him— that was, until he commented on your bust in your top. You smacked him with his own file, grateful to have the version of House you had come to know up and running again— regardless of how annoying that version may be. Your help remained unspoken, but in the following weeks, some distant glances and singled-out tasks would bring any tension to a head.

#gregory house #gregory house x reader #slow burn #house md

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genericpuff · 11 months

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Rachel "Retcon" Smythe Strikes Again!

Okay, so I've been seeing pictures of Volume 4 of Lore Olympus floating around, and people are ALREADY FINDING RETCONS.

Most notably so far, some added panels in the Hades and Apollo confrontation that happens outside Artemis' house (when Persephone steals Apollo's lyre) in Episode 81.

This is the original scene, for anyone who needs a refresher:

Aaaand here are the panels that were added.

(all pictures of Volume 4 are courtesy @iwannagutyou on IG!!! thank you for giving me permission to use these! <3)

First of all, the art. It's so noticeably bad. You can tell Rachel has completely lost her ability to draw these characters in the S1 style, I'm fairly certain she took the panel of Hades from the old version and just copy pasted it to try and get around it (look at the posing) but it's incredibly obvious looking at that third panel that LO is not and can never be what it was back in 2017-2019. Those first two panels seem like they were copy pasted from the previous ones, which is just sad if those are the lengths she has to go to to come even close to replicating the older style.

Now, this just might be due to camera translation, it could very well look better IRL, but the colors just look so incredibly desaturated and the lines blurred out, to the point that people are doing double takes over whether or not panels have been directly changed - they haven't been, they've just been so sucked dry of their colors that they look off enough to cast suspicion.

If anything it's a harsh reminder that LO has kinda always had art problems, especially with its lazy humor and stupid meme faces.

Of course, to be fair, color loss can happen in print, but seeing how slapped together these books tend to be, I wouldn't be surprised if they just didn't put in the effort to convert the page art to CMYK or at least tinker with the saturation in editing some more to ensure it would come out more vibrant in print.

Now. Excuse me while I go on a bit of a crackpot rant here. Newbie puff pals beware, because this is gonna get dicey and you're about to learn where my tinfoil-hat rep comes from but I just have to talk about it.

Back to the added Apollo panels, where Persephone asks Hades not to hurt him and he looks nervous before she says "I just want him to leave".

Maybe it's just me, but it's a little weird that THESE are the panels they decided they needed to add. It's weird that she's asking Hades not to hurt Apollo when she's about to break into his car and steal his lyre just a few moments later. It's weird that the implication seems to be that she's referring to Hades' act of violence towards Tori... but Persephone doesn't know that's happened yet. So this feels like an unnecessary retcon that's doing more harm than good.

But I feel like the timing of this is kinda messed up as well, as this book released just days after the release of the last FP episode in which Apollo has his 'side' of the assault story told through his perspective, which is often considered a HUGE no-no in writing assault stories because it often comes with the implication that it's asking for empathy from the audience. We already know Apollo is delusional, we already know he thinks him and Persephone are meant to be despite her constant rejection of him, we didn't need a flashback from his own warped perspective explaining that very thing, the only purpose to do such a thing this late in the game would be to try and get the audience to 'connect' with him (it's giving S3 Bryce from 13 Reasons Why vibes). Now we have this scene of Persephone asking Hades not to hurt him (despite the structure of the episode being literally fine before, this change wasn't needed) getting snuck into the physical book release just a couple days after the newest FP tried to present Apollo in an empathetic light (and let me tell you, that's a whole essay and a half that I'll be getting into eventually).

Shit, if I wanted to get REAL Pepe Sylvia with it, I might say that hypothetically, the whole point of the random Leuce abuse episode - despite Persephone having no way of knowing what she attempted as Hades hadn't told her and she wasn't there to see it and we weren't shown her overhearing them in any way - and the following episode that was mostly padding of Hades and Persephone having sex - no consequences or follow-up whatsoever to the Leuce scene - was just to pad out the episode release schedule and buy time until the book came out so that Rachel could release that Apollo POV episode right before the book came out and revealed those new added scenes of Persephone asking Hades not to hurt Apollo, in what could be a sly artificial attempt at minimizing the SA plot so Rachel can finally just brush aside the one major plot point she regretted writing the most. After all, it wouldn't be the first time Rachel's controlled the pace of her comic to release certain moments at certain times that line up with IRL events.

But, y'know. I'm gonna quit on that thought while I'm ahead because it's probably making my credibility meter drop into the red. My ADHD has been real bad lately and it's really starting to show LMAO All ima say is that IDK who Rachel thinks she's fooling here, this kind of shit is stupid easy to fact check when the digital version of the comic is available online to read.

To end on a much funnier and lighter note, remember how Rachel tried to retcon the Demeter/Hera/Hestia relationship by changing the line "I miss my sisters" to "I miss my friends"? Well, there was one panel that had been missed in the webtoons version that still refers to them as sisters. You can still find this unedited line in Episode 78.

And uh. They forgot to fix it again for the book.

It's permanent now. That's permanent marker. It would have cost them nothing to find this in the webtoon version and fix it before it got sent to the book editors. Now it's gonna cost them thousands because the book editors didn't bother (or know) to check.

There's also this... weird shit going on with the speech bubbles. Like, they're REALLY FUCKING OVERDOING IT with the speech bubble outlines. I don't know who made this choice but it was a bad one. Gross. Don't do that. It looks so cheap.

But let's be real, at this point I feel like the book editors are just outright sabotaging Rachel because who the fuck calls themselves a professional when they do this shit-

Oh, and there's no bonus episode, just sketches. Which is fine. But it makes me chuckle to think that Rachel just didn't have time in her already razor-thin buffer to draw up a new episode to pass off as "cut content".

#i'm fired for that whole conspiracy bit aren't i #can you blame me when the wedding was lined up with valentine's day and dio's birth was lined up with mother's day #i swear to christ rachel does this on purpose it's so unhinged #just write a story #it doesn't make your comic 'deep' to line it up with real world dates that aren't gonna matter in 3 weeks anyways when they go up for free #it's just so unnecessary and pointless to do #lore olympus critical #lo critical #antiloreolympus #anti lore olympus

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helpallthenamesaretakenblog · 3 months

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EPISODE 8 😭😭 THE FEELS

the first line being 'look, you didn't ask to be a half blood' 😭😭 this is the shows equivalent to the good kid reprise

The wooden sword 😂

they have my respect for showing a luke and percy practicing sword fight scene SERIOUSLY the rest of the riordanverse percy still hears advice from luke while swordfighting and that is a plot point that is so special to me okay

the transition from luke to percy as he asks for single combat it's SO CINEMATIC I LOVE IT

The threatening aura of ares after being grumpy and comedic is chefs kiss about dayum time

I wish they kept the scene where percy says something along the lines of "we didn't mention any dreams" when ares yells that gods don't dream but ofc tv!percy knows all

cue one of the most epic sword fight scenes of the century

IM THE SON OF POSEIDON NOW FACE THE TIDE INSIDE OF MEEEEEEEE

NO SERIOUSLY SOMEBODY MAKE AN EDIT

THE SIZE OF PERCY COMPARED TO THE WAVE, THE WAVE ENVELOPING BOTH OF THEM

The camera shots are too good I swear

Ok that was short

I kinda missed the police cars and the sirens in the background and the reporters and all that chaos

sallys in the breeze she's in the trees

Alecto redemption arc wasnt on my bingo card but I actually like it guys

THE NECKLACE

percy staring at annabeth as she makes it harder each day to believe no one cares about him will never get old ❤️

“Wheres the glory in that” lazy ppl dont need glory

Rip lance reddick❤️

the next time hes going to roast zeus’s family percy is going to be older and more intimidating ZEUS IS GOING TO LISTEN and thats something so amazing

the way that percy fell to the ground with his arms on his head by instinct as zeus raised his lightning bolt

POSEIDON YASSSSS

”perseus” wait a sec is this the first reveal of percys real name?

THEIR ACTING AS ALWAYS 10/10

”can i ask you a question?’ DID YOU EVER HAVE SOMEONE KISS YOU IN A CROWDED ROOM AND EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOUR FRIENDS WAS MAKING FUN OF YOU

Dude was like no hon i aint gon tell bout what i dream about your mother kaboom peace out

huggggg (btw guys im in this show im the camper in the background clapping for the hug) i love that laugh from percy like ‘yep this is how we roll now not bad’

I love that theyre using that position to just ominously talk about clarisse not even letting go, just hugging it out talking about the traitor

Luke and annabeth in the same frame!!! We got a hand on annabeths shoulder AND NOTHING ELSE

THE CINEMATOGRAPHY OF THE NEXT SCENE IS UNPARALLELED

THE WAY THE FIREWORKS GET DARKER AND DARKER AS LUKE IS CAUGHT

Backbiter glowed up fr now he can make interdimensional portals

also percy knows everything as usual.

the girls are fightinggggg

”im sorry” *luke taking advantage to slash percy in the arm* you will always live in my heart

The heartbreak in lukes eyes

the hearbreak in annabeths eyes

also that shot of leah against the bright lights of the fireworks makes her look so pretty

ok we’re just going to gloss over the sadness of the betrayal

Can i just say i love chirons casting SO MUCH im so excited to see him party next season

“I am percy jackson” slay

ANNABETHS PIGTAILS ARE SO CUTE

OFC SHES GOING TO DISNEY WORLD

the way shes just worrying about what it might do to kill her 🥺

annabeth: *Exists*

percy: ❤️🥺😁🥰

THE LIL FLOWER

HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

bro literally gave us the percy and sally reunion of our dreams

”your survival is the key to my rise” get lost grim reaper

petition to call kronos grandpa every dream

ILL BE BACK NEXT SUMMER YOULL SEE ME AGAIN ILL BE BACK NEXT SUMMER ILL SURVIVE TILL THEN

Percy arming himself with the umbrella

I BETTER GET SEASON 2

Woooooooooooo gabe dieeeeee

#percy series #pjo #percy jackson #annabeth chase #rick riordan #percabeth #pjo fandom #heroes of olympus #pjo tv show #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo tv series #grover #percyjackson #taylor swift #taylor alison swift #swifties #tswift

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eupheme · 5 months

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— i’ll be seeing you | part i

[masterlist] | [playlist]

invisible man!alfred pennyworth x f!reader

rated e - 6k

tags: invisible man!au, age gap, holiday fluff, light angst, alfred is fully invisible/silent to reader, shared spaces, mutual pining, magical elements, bruce being bruce, mentions of food/eating, unintentional gaslighting and domestic (non-sexual) voyeuristic observation, the beginning of feelings

a/n: hi! here is part i! this was a one-shot that got a little long, so I am splitting into three parts. The rest are mosty written, I hope to have them up soon (and really hope you enjoy this little holiday au!) 💕❄️

There's something wrong with Wayne Tower. Doors creak open on their own. Your things move when you're not looking. It's not a far stretch to think that Gotham might be haunted, with all of the things you've seen over the years. And it will take more than this to scare you away.

But as the days pass... you realize that perhaps, that's not its intent. That there's kindness and thoughtfulness in those movements you catch. And when you have a literal run-in with the ghost, it leaves you suddenly wondering - just who or what have you been staying with?

The Tower must be haunted.

It’s the only explanation you can think of.

You’ve been staying here for a little over a week now. A offer from Bruce that tips heavily in your favor - the use of the Tower for six weeks, while he is abroad.

Glorified house-sitting, needing someone to keep an eye on things while he was gone. Pick up the occasional package from Wayne Enterprises. Use up the perishables in the fully-stocked fridge, before they are wasted.

For you, it’s honestly a no-brainer. The perfect escape, the solace you thought was so needed to work on finishing up and editing your novel.

You jumped at the chance to help your friend, and privately, you’d always been curious to see just what lied in the penthouse. A chance to peek at the bookshelves and cabinets filled with curios. See how the hallways might twist and turn, to run your fingers over all the intricate wooden carvings.

But that has been before.

Before things started moving. Mail you had been so sure was left on the heavy wooden table in the open foyer, now on the desk. Those tall, arched doors that seemed to creak open on their own, just barely caught in the corner of your eye as you were passing.

Footsteps, in the night.

And then - turning even more peculiar, and more personal.

Your scattered research notes carefully stacked on the table next to you, when you woke from a lazy, afternoon nap. Some items in the kitchen never seeming to go empty, no matter how many times you’ve used them.

It had been a mystery. Unsettling, in the variety.

What you knew of ghosts involved spirits, unable to move on. Beings who lashed out, sought to frighten its inhabitants away. Or possess them.

At night, when you’re alone in the guestroom, you think you ought to be nervous. Afraid that you presence might have caused it displeasure, that it somehow, would take that anger out on you.

But, this is Gotham, after all. And with the hell the city has been through, you’ve lived through worse. The prospect of a haunting doesn’t seem as frightening compared to them. The creak of old floors is nothing compared to riddling clues and murdered politicians, thousands of people displaced from their homes as the city had gone near-underwater.

No, it’s something more like curiosity that flickers through you. After all, these movements were almost… helpful.

Intentional, at least.

And with that thought - something Bruce had said nudged at you, from the morning he handed over the keys.

But surely it had been a joke.

An internal amusement, at your expense.

“I’ll be six hours ahead, but text if you need me. You don’t have to worry about the Tower or cleaning, Alfred will take care of everything.”

“Alfred?” You had asked him, frowning. The name tickling something in the memory of your friendship, but you thought Bruce had lived alone.

“Don’t worry about it.” Bruce had coaxed, before changing the subject, “You won’t even see him.”

There had been no Alfred.

You were certain of that - by now you’d know if you were sharing the space with someone.

The Tower was expansive, but it was impossible that if they did exist, that they would always be in the exact opposite room as you. That your paths surely would have crossed by now.

You thought that perhaps, it was some form of Artificial Intelligence. Parts of the house hooked to some sort of electronic device he could monitor - call in any fixes or deliveries from home.

Alfred was probably an acronym for something clever.

Artificial Life For Reliable, Effective Delegation

It would make sense, with Bruce’s knack for gadgets. His fortune. The hours he kept - not a lot of room left to keep up with a dwelling as large as this. Far too busy and focused to worry about the daily minutia of bill-paying and grocery shopping.

Yes, surely - that was it.

And it had contented you, for a little while.

Until now. Because it didn’t explain this.

The last thing Bruce had told you to do was not to snoop. Tacked on at the end while he buttoned up his dark peacoat, baggage in hand - almost as if he had almost forgotten.

“Enjoy yourself.”

“But stay out of the west wing, alright?”

It had been on the tip of your tongue to ask just what you should be avoiding. Your interest piqued - all manner of thoughts of what he might be hiding springing into your consciousness - though you tried to forget it.

Bruce had been far too generous already, in offering you his home. You would never intentionally disobey his wishes.

And you hadn’t meant to. Really.

You had just gotten turned around in the mix of different rooms. The large split staircase had lead you upstairs, along a corridor of bedrooms - a narrow spiral back down popping you out near the kitchen. Around a corner, and you’d found yourself beneath an arched passageway that you haven’t been down before.

Intricate oil paintings lined the walls, ones you had ached to see. To examine the brushstrokes yourself, the splashes of gold and crimson against the dark walls. The shut doors flanked by suits of shining silver armor, and… was that a chain on the door, at the end?

If you were just there, if you didn’t open anything…. then it wouldn’t be snooping if you just peeked around. Right?

You had only taken a half-dozen steps down the hallway, before you suddenly collided with something solid. A soft noise ripping from you as you had stumbled, knocked off-kilter.

There had been a pinching at your elbow, a pointed pressure that steered you around. A feeling at the small of your back guiding you forward, as you suddenly found yourself facing the passageway you had just walked under.

It happened so quickly that you hadn’t been sure what happened. Startled enough that you abandoned your exploring, making for familiar territory instead.

But that night, the memory had kept you up. Replaying it over and over. Enough that you had texted Bruce, a quick message that had already made you feel foolish the second you had sent it.

Is your house haunted?

His answer coming some time later, your eyes heavy and red-rimmed with exhaustion.

Isn’t everyone’s?

Leaving you to wonder if Bruce hadn’t really been joking, after all.

It doesn’t happen again for a solid week. Long enough that you had started to doubt that it ever did. That perhaps, you had just imagined it.

Giving you time to turn the moment over again and again, in your mind. Picking at the loose thread thing together the pieces. Your writings sidetracked by searches for ghosts, of hauntings - you suppose it would not be unusual, in a place like Gotham. To have spirits attached to a city that feels so cursed at times.

But, you keep going back to that pressure. The feeling of a hand at your arm, though there had only been the walls and floors ahead of you.

It had been physical. Corporeal.

You notice more, in that time after.

More moments that you had spared a quick glance and thought of, but figured it had been in your head. The occasional dirty dish left in the sink is cleaned and tucked away the next morning. The blankets on the couch neatly folded, instead of strewn across the cushions.

At first, you had thought you had just forgotten. That perhaps your mind had just wandered, that you had been unintentionally tidying up as you mentally worked through your next task.

It wouldn’t be unusual - since you arrived, your sleep schedule had twisted. Mornings becoming afternoons. Night becoming day, with no one’s responsibilities to manage but your own.

Running on auto-pilot and simply not realizing.

If it is a ghost, it is a tidy one.

It's that thought that begins to cement your earlier suspicions. That their identity just might be the one that Bruce was hinting at, when he said you didn't have to worry about the Tower.

Some small comfort in knowing that he would never leave you in any danger. That you might have been on edge - with the creaking of doors at night - but that harm would not come to you.

That hypnosis’s tested as time passed - there were no threats, smeared with jagged letters in the fogged-up mirror after your shower. No swinging chandeliers, loosening on their own to crash down against your head.

That whatever it was, it kept its distance.

An intrigue slowly forms, that only grows with time. A urge to find out more - determined to see something, to make contact, again.

Even if you can't help being annoyed, as well.

Trust Bruce to let you think your mind was playing tricks on you, instead of telling the truth.

And with your now-careful surveillance - you finally catch when they slip up.

Your chin has been propped on your hand for some time now as you think - staring out of the tall, arched windows in one of the alcoves of the foyer. Head tilted to the side, so you can watch the small cars below - the tiny movements of people as they scurry into stores, to escape the cold wind that whips through the city streets.

There's a movement, then. Not outside, not below.

A flickering out of the corner of your eye you almost miss, near the coffee table you sit in front of. No more than a glint of silver in the light.

The faintest sound of pouring, which would have been drowned out by the ambient music trickling from your laptop, if you had not become so suddenly focused on the source.

It’s pouring you more coffee.

You're careful to keep still - your head fixed in place as you glance surreptitiously towards the movement. The silver coffeepot you've been lugging around tilted just enough to let a stream into your near-empty cup.

There can't be many ghosts that would choose to help, instead of scare or harm. That wiggle of curiosity surges into something more - a need to understand.

So, you try. Carefully, and unmoving.

"Are you Alfred?"

The coffee sloshes against the rim of your mug, dripping down the side. Startled by your words, so certain he had slipped past you, in your reverie. The carafe still hovers aloft, as you slowly turn your head.

Thinking that he might bolt. Hoping that he wouldn't.

Your eyes meet open air, swooping over the space - although you don't know where to look.

"Bruce mentioned you.” You try, settling on the area that you guess might be eye-level, on a man. "He said you'd be around, that I-… well, he must have thought he was being funny."

Teeth bite into the edge of your tongue - your head shaking at the half-truth he had given you. An omission, but still leaving room to argue later that he hadn’t been lying.

Your attention focuses back, again.

"But you're real, right? That was you, in the hallway?"

The coffee pot lowers to the table, then. A clunk against the heavy wood, just as you twist fully around. Your hand darting out to keep him there, curling around something solid. A wrist?

There's a tension as if he's about to move but then, at your touch, - he goes still. He's warm and solid beneath your palm, excitement sparking in your belly. Your other hand rising, index finger extended as you gesture for him to wait.

"Please don't go. Just let me-" Your hand slips from him as you bend, looking for the bag propped against the wooden legs of the velvet settee. A second of rooting around before you find what you're looking for - a capped pen, and your spiral-bound notebook.

A page is torn from the end, and then ripped in half. You scribble down two words before flipping them around - setting them on the top of the table.

Yes and No rest there, scrawled in thick purple ink. A simplistic system by all means, and you're not even sure if he's still there or if he slipped away while you searched.

"You're Alfred, right?" You ask again, quietly - hopefully.

A fluttering in your heart at the idea of communicating. Unable to help the way you lean towards the words, as if willing them to move.

And after a long moment… they do.

The slightest flutter, a nudge to the word marked Yes.

A grin splits your face, hands clasped together, "It was you in the hallway? You this whole time?"

His answer comes more quickly now, another nudge. A sort of relief washes over you with that confirmation. No ghost lurking in these halls - just an unexpected and unusual sort-of roommate.

You had thought the solitude would suit you, but as the days pass, the interaction now feels welcome. Too many silent hours in such a big penthouse, left to your own devices for hours on end.

"And is that your collection of tea in the kitchen, or do they belong to Bruce?" The tease comes without thought, though you belatedly realize that it's not a binary question. A heavy pause hangs in the air, before there's the slightest tug at your fingers.

You let the pen go, as he pulls it from you. One of the torn pieces flips over, the writing that appears much smaller and neater than yours.

Mine.

He plays along, to your amusement. Enough so that you're not quite ready to let him go.

"Will you have a cup with me, then?"

The paper flips back over, before it's nudged back your way.

Yes.

He hadn't been sure what to make of you.

A prickle of irritation when Bruce had informed him - yes, informed - of the arrangement. Visitors had never bothered him in the past, he was always grateful for any opportunity that meant Bruce felt comfortable bringing someone into his home. That he was spending time in the company of another, and not stuck lingering on what could never be changed.

But that was before.

With Bruce gone, what was he to do? Pretend he doesn't exist, skirting around a stranger in the Tower? Unable to rest, too worried that you would disturb the sanctuary he's spent so long protecting?

"You know you can't go out." Bruce's eyes had been downcast, peering beneath the hood of his car. Alfred's own finger's streaked with grease, with his constant and silent aide.

Down beneath the guts of the Tower, in the Terminus. Another place to keep secret in his absence. A few years ago he would have considered caving it in while Bruce was away, but they've both come a long way since the days of the Riddler. Managing to meet somewhere in the middle, even as difficult as the journey was.

"She's doing us a favor."

He could go out, if Bruce needed. Yes, a floating parcel could be problematic - a car driven with no owner - but he could get around that. It would be far from the more difficult things he's had to do over the course of his lifetime.

But before he knew it - you was there, and Bruce was gone.

Alfred had never intended to interact with you. He had been all but a ghost for some time now, silent and invisible. It would have been too easy to keep to the shadows.

To avoid you completely.

But that wasn’t quite how things had turned out.

You were fascinating, in your novelty. Beautiful, though he tries not to dwell on that particular observation. Keeping a schedule much like Bruce’s - all odd hours and self-directed patterns - though you couldn’t be more opposite.

Alfred would never dare step into your room, or encroach upon a private moment. He did not seek you out. But if he was already up, and you wandered into the kitchen to make pasta in the middle of the night, then sometimes… he stayed.

Watching you move about the space. Resisting the long-engrained urge to nudge you out of the way, to cook for you himself.

Forcing himself to linger instead, listening to you hum along to music only you could hear. Opening all the cabinets each time, until you found what you were looking for. A coffee mug, the deepest bowl you could find.

He’d rearrange them later. Bring them to the shelf closest to you, so you didn’t have to search so hard.

That he could do, at least.

And when you had grown curious - wandering about the Tower, down the very hallway Bruce had told you to avoid - he had been unable to avoid you any longer.

It had been all too easy to catch you off guard. Ignoring the spark that jolted through him when his hand had wrapped around your elbow, swiftly guiding you back the way you came. Away from the entrance to Wayne Terminus.

The expression of shock on your face still makes him smile, though he took no pleasure in frightening you.

He still manages to do so, though. Your hand flattening across your chest, a muffled shriek when his fingers stretch out to carefully tap your arm, announcing his presence.

You were open like that - smiles and frowns and everything in between, worn so plainly and unfettered across your face. Another source of intrigue.

So different than what he was used to. Interpreting the minute frowns and sighs and ticks of Bruce’s jaw, as if he was in the circus again - solving a codex.

He thought he was starting to be able to read you. Annoyance and boredom and that laser-focused look you got when you were working - hours passing without notice.

And now, he watches as curiosity blooms.

Directed at him, no less.

It was an unusual feeling. No one he was used to - there were few secrets between himself and Bruce, especially over the recent years. A promise made that he would do better, even though he's still wracked at night with worry.

He's not a spectacle. You don't push - though surely, you must wonder. It's not as if he doesn't himself, even though he's long been resigned to the feeling of merely existing, instead of living.

And when he finds that your routines slowly start to include him - an extra mug of tea made, the paper set out where he usually spends the morning - that wish that he had been left alone slowly begins to slip.

Alfred finds himself thinking that perhaps, perhaps, these weeks won't be so bad, after all.

Or at least - not quite so boring.

In the days that follow, a semblance of a routine is formed.

His presence is announced by a touch on your shoulder - a soft tap, as not to scare you, like he had before. The questions you have about the manor, about him, answered with more of those touches.

One tap for no. Two quick ones for yes.

Or written on pen and paper like your first meeting, when you have it.

You take to carrying a pad around in your backpocket. A pen tucked behind you ear, as you grow more brave - emboldened by the fact that he does answer. That they are short and succinct, though you think, not unwelcome.

For if he had wanted to stay out of your sight, it would have been all too easy. If he stayed - sharing the space with you, steam rising from his teacup as the newspaper turned - then surely, it would mean that he did not mind.

Notes passed back and forth as you work - the heavy velvet curtains in the foyer pulled back to let the daylight in. Giving you a view of the Gotham skyline, how untouched it feels from so high up. Rows and rows of buildings, each climbing taller.

Have you always worked for the Waynes?

Your question is folded up, flicked across the table. A old trick from school, the triangular shape soaring to where the papers are sorted in neat stacks, the click of a calculator as sums are added and marked down in a ledger.

His answer comes in neat, uniform letters. Carefully written on the sheet below your looping scrawl.

Not always. I met Thomas after my days in the military.

Another small detail you hoard like a magpie, this new piece weaving its way into the shiny pile of treasures you've collected. It explained a little - the tidiness of the kitchen, the way he moved through the morning like clockwork.

So unlike your own schedule, tied to the whims of your creativity.

But you've been with them since?

Yes.

Have you always been their Butler?

It seems like a strange course to take after his years of service and you think he must see the way you frown, as you think it over. His pen hesitates, before he answers.

In a way.

His answers are as cryptic as Bruce's could be. You wonder which one had begun that way - who had learned from the other. The thought of the connection made you smile.

In these moments, you find you work well together. He’s a busy man - the ambient sounds of his fountain pen scratching over papers filling your afternoons. The notes shared a welcome reprieve, when the hunch of your shoulders and twist of your hips start to ache.

Trading pieces of each other across the hours. Favorite books. Foods that remind you of home, ones that are sometimes ordered and shared over the course of the next day.

Memories, carefully inked down - feeling like confessions.

Your eyes are bleary when you finally glance up from your laptop, the mid-morning light somehow slipping towards evening before you could blink. The room now eerily silent, and you wonder if he is still here. Or if he moved on without notice, as sometimes did.

“Alfred?”

You voice is quiet in the large room. It’s not like you need him for anything but you still can’t help but wonder where he is - not minding the moments where you share the room together.

Still getting used to the fact that he exists, and yet is always unseen.

He appears before the sound has faded, his name still hanging in the air. A brush at your shoulder, embarrassment heating your cheeks at the thought of being caught, sounding so needy.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were here,” You admit, with a scrunch of your nose, “I wasn’t sure, I-”

Words cut off by the plate set down next to you. Dinner - the meal still warm, fresh from the kitchen. You’d worked through lunch, too caught up to notice the time. The ache that had formed in your belly as the time passed now making itself known.

It has you wondering if he had been on his way back, or whether he had heard your call. He seemed to have a habit of that - appearing just when you’re looking for him. As if he had an innate sixth sense for knowing when he was wanted.

“Thank you. You really didn’t have to do this, you know.” You protest, and your refilled coffee cup rattles as it’s set down next.

The movement almost indignant.

A quick jotting on the back of a printed article he’d been perusing, the ink still glossy when it’s rotated your way - the last word underlined for emphasis.

You are our guest.

It’s hard to hold back the smile, as you read. You wonder when it became “our” and not just Bruce’s guest - if the exact syntax held anything in it’s arrangement.

Would it be strange that you think you want to find a deeper meaning in his words? That assurance that he wasn’t inconvenience by your presence? That the hours spent together were more pleasure than mere obligation?

You push the thought away from now - unable to examine your inner feelings with the source of them being so near. Dipping into the food he brought, instead. It’s good - a twist on a quick meal you’ve made a few times since you arrived, but much more delicious.

The thought of him watching you unawares, sends a little jolt crackling low in your stomach.

But you realize - it’s not one of discomfort.

Something else to contemplate, later.

“Did you already eat?” You ask, between mouthfuls.

The answer comes with the movement of his pen, nudging the plate closer.

Over time, you’ve found he can tips towards bossy. Insistent. Amusement at the thought of him trying to keep Bruce in check - hiding your smile as you shut down your laptop in favor of concentrating on your food. Savoring it, a certain luxury found in a hearty meal that was not made with your own hands.

Something you’re not used to, something you certainly and wholeheartedly appreciate.

When your belly is full, you lean back against the cushions. Thinking about how often you find yourself here, in this cluster of alcoves off the large, open foyer. Leaving you wondering about the rest of the Tower, as a sip of coffee warms your belly.

“Do you have a favorite room?” You ask him, with a tilt of your head.

There is no written answer. It comes instead with the pushing back of his chair - a hand that rests on top of yours, squeezing twice as he coaxes you out of your chair.

Alfred guides you down halls you've explored before, though you were never brave enough to peek into any of the closed rooms. The thought of getting a look inside one of them thrills you, a hand gently touching between your shoulder blades to steer you towards a set of the doors at the end of the hall.

The closer of the two opens with his touch, the room brighter than you're expecting as you slip inside.

A beautiful study, the walls and built-in bookshelves stained a deep brown that tips towards gray. An antique wooden desk takes up the middle of the room - a closed laptop resting on top, next to piles of neat manila folders.

The heavy drapes that embrace the arched window behind are cracked open to let in the setting sun - and as you step into the room, they open wider.

The view is stunning.

Looking out across Gotham River instead of the streets of Midtown, clogged with buildings and the never-ending traffic. Framing the lazy rush of the water that had caused so much destruction in the years before, softened by the glitter and glint of the sun as it dips below the horizon.

Unmarred by man-made buildings and dark shadows.

"It's beautiful," You breathe - only just now noticing how close you've moved to the window, skirting around that old wooden desk, "I can see why you love it."

You can feel him next to you, at your shoulder. That sort of heavy presence that you've started to sense - nearly well-enough that you've gotten good at hazarding a guess where he stands.

Lingering just a little longer in the silence, watching the crash of the waters against the floodwalls. But your insatiable curiosity eventually piques at you, unable to help the twist of your head as you take in the surroundings.

Seeing more from this side of the room. The cracked door from off to the side, leading to a darkened bedroom in shades of charcoal and silver.

A buttery-soft leather chair tucked into the desk, where a sterling silver teapot sits on a folded newspaper. You've seen it before, in the kitchen, on the hexagonal table in the foyer.

"Is this your room? Your study?" You ask, piecing things together. Wondering how it took you so long to realize how it feels like him. The sort of him you’ve come to picture - tidy and proper.

Thick-bound books tucked neatly into the shelves that reach towards the ceiling, sculptures breaking up the space. The wooden floor covered in a thick rug, soft against your toes. A warmth brought to the space, in spite of all the sharp stone and dark wood.

Yes.

And then your eyes are snagging on the desk. Where two photos lie overlapping, unseen from the other side. Ones of people, their edges creased and well-worn with touch - two men flanking a women, a child in her arms. For a moment you almost think one of them is Bruce, with his sharp jawline and dark hair.

As you step closer, you realize it's not. You recognize the Waynes from the newspapers, both beautiful and elegant - their son a perfect mix of both of them. Next to them, standing close - just as much as part of the family, is another.

You don't know the man on the right. He is striking - broad-shouldered and dressed just as well. Dark hair that is carefully combed back, just starting to lighten at the temples. Eyes bright and blue, his smile framed with a neatly trimmed beard.

But maybe... you do.

"Is this you?" Your fingers reach out, nearly touching. Hovering, instead.

The second picture lifts, pressed into your hand. Just two, now. A small smile at Bruce, clad in a cap and gown, a golden stamp at the corner edge that notes Yale University. The tight-lipped smile of a young man, exasperated at the prospect of a photo.

The man - your Alfred - is here, too. Older, his hair more gray than black now. Still smiling, though the expression has faded, as he stands next to Bruce.

"You look..." The words trail off. Something lodging in your chest, stealing your breath.

Handsome. Happy. Just like I imagined you.

None are appropriate to say. Eyes quickly soaking up the photos, trying to picture him now. Not that much older, certainly less than a decade. Distinguished, the salt-and-pepper tones only complimenting his already attractive features.

Your thumb traces the edge of the photo as you find your voice, "Proud."

Yes.

It hits you then - the mystery of him. You head suddenly jerking in his direction, the frame setting back down on the desk as you turn, "You haven't always been like this?"

There's a wave of your hand, gesturing at his situation.

You hadn't known what to think. You lived in fiction and you lived in Gotham - the world twisting and turning dark in front of your own eyes. Countless ideas had flitted through your mind, a topic you had come back to frequently.

Whether he was born like this, never seen by human eyes. Truly a ghost, haunting the halls - unable to leave. Or even just a figment of your imagination - a dream that you haven't woken up from yet.

None of them had made sense. Not with what he had told you of his past. But the ideas had started to dry up, leaving you with no answers. Until now.

His hand squeezes your arm. No.

It sends your heart tumbling, as a drawer in his desk opens. Digging down deep, an article tucked beneath layers of folders, as if untouched for years. Worn and paper thin from where it had been clipped from the Gotham Gazette, carefully held out to you.

And as your eyes flick over the headline, you remember. The sorcerer who had sold his soul to the devil, wreaking havoc throughout the city. People had disappeared, plucked from the streets. Tricked by their own eyes by his illusions, in his quest for dominance over the city.

Your parents had called you - begging you to stay inside, to stay safe, until it was over. A shiver racing up your spine at their worry, how it still lingers in your memory.

Alfred must have been caught. One of the many affected by the spells. Cursed.

"This was years ago," Your voice was hushed, "You've been this way for that long?"

Yes.

The thought makes you ache.

"Can you fix this? Is there a way?"

You think surely there must be. There had been others, brought out of months of sleep. Turned back into their human forms, from the animal they had become. It has you clinging to a spark of hope that had long been extinguished in these halls.

A pen from his desk lifts, an answer slowly inked in the margins of the article.

I cannot not tell you.

And then two words, written below it.

Ask Bruce.

You text Bruce that night.

In the glow of your laptop - the scene you're working on left hanging, open-ended as you're unable to resist any longer. Late enough now for you that for him, it's morning.

I met your butler.

Your phone is still glowing when he answers. Barely a minute passing before the bubbles appear, just two words popping up.

Did you?

He never makes it easy - a sigh slipping from your lungs as you lean back into the plush chair, a knee pressing into the edge of the desk.

I did.

A second, as you wonder if you should dive in. If you should just ask what you want to know - if Bruce would entertain the thoughts and questions swirling in your mind.

You decide you should. That he's busy, and blunt. No reason you can't cut to the chase.

He said you could tell me about the curse.

Interesting. So you didn't just meet him. How long has it been?

That has you pausing, your thumb tapping a quick response.

What do you mean?

Alfred would never just tell that to anyone.

Even someone like you.

You scoff.

Meaning??

A pause hangs. Minutes passing, before an answer appears.

Meaning someone I trust enough to leave in my home.

His answer mollifies you. A friend, you think. Something he would never say. On anyone else you'd comment on the sentiment, but you think bringing attention to it would only push him further away.

We've been talking for a little while. Written notes, stuff like that.

The touching is innocent, but you feel protective of it. Like the brush of his hand is private. That aspect remains unmentioned, something just for you.

I'm impressed.

Your eyes roll with impatience. Impressed that you'd find a way to talk to him? Or impressed that you'd even noticed?

Thanks, I guess. Today he told me about the curse. Said I could ask you. Can I?

You haven't told me what he's told you.

You take a second then, to recollect. Typing slowly and then erasing, until you get your thoughts down.

He showed me the newspaper. I know about what happened, and when I asked if it could be fixed he said he couldn't tell me. That I could ask you.

You can.

I am???

Fuck - he's infuriating. Your jaw grits, as you flop sideways - twisting on your back. Hands held above your face as you type out your answer with a little more force than necessary.

I'm asking right now. Could you please tell me?

From what we've gathered, his curse will be lifted when he gets what he truly wants. Which might be impossible, considering.

This is something. A tangible goal, something you can really work towards. Your heart kicks up a notch, as you murmur the words while typing.

Considering what? What does he want?

That depends. Why do you want to lift it?

That has you pausing. Why do you? Is it because it's what any decent person would do?

Perhaps if it was the first day, that would be your answer.

But over the course of the evening and the time that had passed, it's become more.

It's hard not to think about how lonely Alfred must be. Half a lifetime spent with just the two of them. Now - left utterly unseen. Not even a ghost, but someone trapped as time still moves on without him. Forgotten.

And yes - lately, selfishly, you want to see him. Deep down, you’re realizing you want him to see you, too. Though it’s more than just that.

You need to break it.

To help him, because Alfred deserves it.

You can't tell Bruce this. It feels too new, too tender. Something still half-formed, even to your own mind.

So you send your own half-truth in reply.

Because it's the right thing to do.

Bruce’s response comes quickly.

If that is your answer, then you should give up now.

It leaves you frowning, a pit forming in your stomach.

Bruce.

???

What do you mean?

No other answers come, though it doesn't stop your eye from wandering the rest of the night. That urge to check for a more substantial answer. Frustration bubbling in your stomach, acid in your throat. Hurt and confused by his words.

Leaving your mind swirling - an irritation in the way your mind has now split. Words no longer flowing from your fingertips - your manuscript left frozen in place, as you try to puzzle out his meaning. Reading and rereading his messages.

That so-very human urge to help turning into something a more.

A desire.

Your jaw grits as you decide that don't need Bruce's help. You can do this yourself.

For Alfred.

thanks for reading! 💖

#alfred pennyworth x reader #alfred pennyworth x you #alfred pennyworth x f!reader #alfred pennyworth fan fic

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creedslove · 4 months

Note

There is an edit of Whiskey with the song "Viva las vegas" in my Tiktok likes. A while ago I read a headcanon that says our favorite cowboy likes to sing. Well, I am a faithful believer that not only singing, Jack could be a perfect clumsy sassy fool imitating Elvis and making his girl laugh with all his antics and bad jokes, even if he's not a really fan of him, he could perfectly sing his sweethearth a cover of "Unchained melody" also by Elvis.

A perfect balance between acting funny and also sweet and fucking, painfully in love with his "sugar". ✨

I also thank you for writing of my pretty hot cowboy, he deserves a lot.

I love your fanfics so much and I love you too ✨✨ take your time babe, I hope you're fine and you had been a beautiful christmas and new year! ❣️

Agent Whiskey (Jack Daniels) x f!reader

A/N: I love this very much! Unfortunately I have never seen this edit but if it crosses your fyp you can send me the link ❤️ I'm sure our cowboy is very handy and talented when it comes to his guitar and he is an Elvis fan, no doubt about it, so I wrote this short headcanon because it's a sweet idea and also because I need to get back to writing, I'm becoming way too lazy on my vacation, lol! Happy New Year's honey, I wish you all the best ❤️

alright so our beloved Senior Agent Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels grew up on a ranch, during a time where social media wasn't really existent and instead of gathering in front of the TV, the families gathered in the front porch, chatting, watching the stars and mostly playing the guitar and singing old tunes

seeing grandpa Daniels, papa Daniels and uncle Daniels doing so, little Jack felt the desire of playing the guitar spike within and soon enough he was grabbing an old guitar and practicing some notes

it got to the point it became Jack's favorite part of the day, just sitting around the porch, listening and playing the guitar

he also had so many nightmares when he first learned the legend of Robert Johnson and how he had supposedly sold his soul to the devil in order to become a master at guitar playing, but he wasn't going to tell anyone that

the fact was Jack was improving each time more caused his family to gift him a brand new guitar when he became a teen, it's his current guitar and he loves it until this day

and at that same age, he also found out that playing the guitar is something that can attract a lot of girls, being the flirty little gent he was back then and growing into the flirty man he is, he can definitely pick up girls just by playing the guitar

yeah it can sound cliche and corny, but wouldn't you melt if that handsome cowboy looked into your eyes with his beautiful brown ones and played a tune for you?

of course you would, we all would

Jack is a country man, he listens to country, flirts with blues and also rock’n’roll, you can definitely find Elvis, Chuck Berry, Robert Johnson, Aretha Franklin and many others in his playlists and of course he plays some of these himself

something he won't ever reveal is that he's a great Elvis impersonator, and he has even done an Elvis cover show to keep his disguise on a mission and Champ paid a large amount for the security camera footage so he could watch his performance whenever he wanted and have a good laugh

Whiskey likes sitting in the front porch with you, he likes spending time, stealing a few kisses as the lights make his ranch even cozier and he can play love songs for you

he declares all his love through them and even if he doesn't consider himself a good singer, he will sing for you, because he knows how much you love it and that's enough for him to do it, anything to earn a beautiful smile from his sugar

and sure, it can be a little cliche, but you can be sure your cowboy will take you for a dance to ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’ by Elvis on your wedding party ❤️

____

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal headcanon #pedro pascal headcanons #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x y/n #agent whiskey fanfic #agent whiskey fanfiction #agent whiskey headcanon #agent whiskey headcanons

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daydreaming-in-letters · 1 year

Text

Special

11/16/2022

Pairing: Andrew (Hozier) x fem!reader

Word Count: 3,500

Warnings: rpf, language, mentions of alcohol, slightly smutty daydreaming, mentions of online dating disasters, slander, pining, mentions of past heartbreak, fluff

Summary: Andrew has been secretly in love for a long time. Will he finally find it in himself to confess his feelings to his beloved?

A/N: It took me quite a while to finish this, but it was important to me that I did. I've been struggling with my writing for some time now and maybe it shows. Still, this one is special to me and one of the most personal stories I have ever written.

Picture by Joshua Newton via Unsplash (edited)

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. No permission is given to copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

Andrew could feel the cold creeping up on him from behind his back. What had been supposed to be the last night of summer had turned out to be the first night of autumn instead. Probably sensing the crisp bite of nightfall approach, someone had lit a fire hours ago, back when the sun had still been powerful enough to deceive the rest of them for a little longer. The oak logs, now turned into embers of glowing red, still gave off enough heat to keep the whole group outside way past midnight. Not that he would have needed the fire to keep him warm though. Her sight was more than sufficient to drive away the chill in an instant and provide him with enough heat to turn his cheeks pink whenever his eyes lingered for too long and his thoughts began to wander.

He could have easily sat through the night without their bonfire if only she was there with him. He had to admit though that the fire suited her well, unveiling her full beauty to him once again in all its splendour, like the day he had finally realised he was in love with her.

Dark shadows and golden lights danced across her face, caressing her soft skin with the tenderness of a lover’s touch. With every flicker of the flames, the glossy sheen of her painted lips twinkled enticingly, as if he would have needed the sight to remind him of the countless times he had yearned to taste them. What drew him in most though were her eyes, they always did. But it was here, in the glow of the fire, that they shone like they did only in the rarest of moments, when she allowed her feelings to breach the surface of her usually so reserved demeanour.

The fact that he hadn’t seen her in quite a while only added to the effect she had on him. It must have been a good year ago, but the memory was still as vivid as if it had only been a few days. Andrew would never forget the darkness he had seen in her eyes that day. And he would never forgive the one who had put it there. The one she had called her lover back when lightning had first pierced Andrew’s defenceless heart. The one that sat right here by the fire among all their friends, like Judas among the apostels. Maybe even worse.

With the heed of each and every single one of Argos’ ninety-nine waking eyes, Andrew had watched them all night, searching for even the slightest signs of discomfort on her side, or worse, of phoenix rising from the ashes, but so far nothing alarming had passed between them.

Andrew had always admired former lovers who were able to turn failed romance into friendship, but seeing these two on friendly terms, watching her laugh about his witless jokes as if he hadn’t almost broken her heart beyond repair, made him seriously reconsider the veracity of that belief.

“Oh come on, not again,” someone broke his train of thought with their whiny complaint about the empty cooling bag. “I’m not going all the way up into the kitchen again to fetch you lazy fuckers more booze.”

Immediately more and more voices joined in, eager not to leave their comfortable spots by the fire and walk through the cold and dark of the garden—all but one, and he knew even before her lips had parted that she would take it upon herself to get the supplies from inside the empty house.

“All right,” she uttered with a soft sigh as she stood, “someone hand me the bag. I’ll go.”

Too quick for his brain to catch up on the movement, Andrew found himself on his feet as well and lunged towards the bag, beating her to it without any effort thanks to his long legs.

“I’ll come with you.”

He had feared she would protest, fastening his grip on the handle just in case she would try to yank it out of his hand while telling him she was plenty able to find the way to the fridge by herself. But she didn’t. Instead she just smiled up at him before her lips formed a silent thank you and Andrew was very grateful that his feet somehow remembered how to move on their own.

All evening a thousand questions he wanted to ask her had spiralled through his head. How was she doing? Had life treated her kindly since he had last seen her? God, he hoped it had. Still a part of him wished that didn’t extend to her love life as well and even though he knew it was childish to hope that her heart was still unclaimed because he wanted to make a home in it himself, he did.

But he probably never would. Especially not since telling her about the feelings he had nursed for so long seemed impossible if he wasn’t even able to start a simple conversation now that they were alone. Maybe it was for the best though, seeing that she obviously wasn’t too keen on starting a conversation either.

It hadn’t always been like this, awkward and unfamiliar, as if they had never talked whole nights through, deeply lost in their own tiny universe where everything orbited around music, poetry, literature, mythology, politics, philosophy and all the other topics the rest of the gang found too profound for a night of drinking and light entertainment. He had lived for those moments, loved to pick her marvellous brain until, if only for a brief point in time, he was able to see the world through her eyes.

And now he was standing here like a bloody fool, holding the bag for her in silence while she loaded bottle after bottle of cold brew into it. She was so close to him, her unique fragrance filling his senses every time she stirred the air between them when she turned. It was almost completely blanketed by the sharp stench of smoke. Almost. But not to him. He had memorised her scent like his favourite song, ready to recall every single note of it from memory even after all this time. Yet he seldomly allowed himself to do so. It made him careless, made his mind wander off to a place in which he imagined how she would feel, skin on skin. He wondered if she would taste just as good, her salty-sweet aroma still fresh on his tongue as their bodies became one in heated passion. He longed to feel her breath crawling up his neck as she moaned his name in pleasure, yearned to be wrapped tightly in the warmth of her—

“Andrew?”

The touch of her fingers gently pulled him from his fantasy, away from her and still back to her, back into the bleak reality of the kitchen with its buzzing fridge and cold neon lights.

“Huh?” he muttered sheepishly, his brain still unable to form a coherent sentence after what it had just dreamed up.

His irritation seemed to amuse her, a soft giggle breaking through her concern for a split second before she became serious again.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah. Sure.” He tried his best to sound convincing, but he knew she could read him like a book and so he was quick to add, “How about you?”

“Me? I’m not the one who zoned out for a moment.”

“True.” He smiled down at her, warm and soft. “But that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh.” For the blink of an eye the smile she had shot him in return faltered, and when it steadied on her lips again, it wasn’t quite the same anymore. “I’m good. Fine, actually. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, I just thought…you know…with him being here and all…”

“Ah, I see.” Her hand found his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze before gliding down the length of it and Andrew thought he could feel her touch in his very bones. “It’s very sweet of you to worry about me, but there’s really no need to. After all it was a mutual split.”

Actually, he remembered their breakup a little differently, but if this was the narrative she had chosen to hold onto, he wouldn’t be the one to crush it for her. But when she pulled her hand away from his, it was her who felt the need to correct that statement.

“Okay, maybe the split itself wasn’t that mutual, but I know now that we had it coming for a long time. And I’ve made my peace with it.”

“That’s good to hear.” Andrew felt the awkward silence lure in the darkness that awaited outside the kitchen and still he needed another moment to gather the courage to ask the one question his heart feared the most and was still desperate to find the answer to. “So…um…are you…is there someone new in your life?”

“God no!” He hadn’t expected that reaction at all and even though he didn’t find his fears confirmed, there was something about her eyes and the tone of her voice that made his heart heavy for her. “I put that hope to rest rather quickly after I started online dating.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Part of him truly was because no matter how much he had wished for her to be single, he would never have wanted it to come at the cost of more hurt.

“No, don’t be. Some of the shit I’ve been through is actually quite amusing in retrospect. Come on, I’ll tell you a few stories on the way back.”

It had taken them quite a while before they could hear the laughter from the fireplace drift over to them again. They had stopped a few times on the way, mostly because he had temporarily forgotten how to walk in the face of the things she had told him. But no matter how he looked at it, amusing was far from the word he would use to describe most of the things she had endured. Disbelief had alternated with rage up to a point that he himself felt awful for even sharing the same sex with this scum.

After what he had just learned, Andrew couldn’t blame her for losing faith in love, not in the least. If anything, he was surprised how well she seemed to handle everything she had been through. In his eyes it was more than admirable. Of course he had known before that dating was seldomly an easy thing, but until now he had never realised what risks it held for women in a world almost entirely shaped by men.

“Promise me you won’t tell the others, okay? I wouldn’t want them to know. Especially not…”

Despite the darkness he could see her eyes shimmer with embarrassment. What for, he didn’t know. She had nothing to blame herself for.

“Of course. I promise. Cross my heart.”

A slender finger moved across his chest in two strokes to support his words and his childlike gesture made her smile. He had hoped it would. What he hadn’t anticipated however was her next move, and as her palm found the very spot he had just marked with a cross, his heart sank into his feet. There was nothing he could do to prevent it from speeding up, forced to stand and watch her catch on to it any second now while he felt its powerful drum underneath the thin layer of skin that covered his neck.

“So, you still seem to get along with Y/N exceptionally well. Any chances for a reunion then?”

Her hand fell away, his fear of getting caught forgotten immediately, when she turned towards the voices. The little group that sat around the fire was still veiled from view by a few thick bushes, but the teasing tone was enough to imagine the grin on the talker’s face. Andrew and the woman by his side were far from grinning though.

“Not in a million years. We split for a reason, you know.”

“Yeah, I totally understand. She’s kind of…special.”

“You can say that again.”

Even in the dim light that reached their hiding spot from the fire, Andrew could see her face fall. Fascinated and petrified alike by the myriad of emotions that flickered in the treacherous gleam of her eyes, he wished he could do anything but watch disaster unfold right in front of him. He might have thought of something, anything, had he known that they were far from finished with their humiliating ordeal.

“Might be the reason online dating isn’t going too well for her.”

“Honestly, I can’t say that comes as a real surprise.”

The conversation was far from over, but Andrew didn’t care anymore. All he cared about was the pair of wide eyes that seemed to stare right into the darkness of the cosmos as her body stumbled back a few steps.

“Y/N?”

The bag fell into the grass with a thud, the bottles inside clinking dangerously, but all he heard was her trembling voice that mumbled an absentminded excuse.

“I…I’m really tired. I should probably head home.”

And with that she just turned, the hint of an apologetic smile on her face, and let the shadows swallow her. For a second he just stood there, frozen in place by the rising panic inside of him, until the faint noise of a shaky breath carried over to him on the breeze.

“Wait.”

But she didn’t. Of course she didn’t. And why would she? He had done nothing to stop those eejits from their slander and he couldn’t blame her for assuming it was because he secretly agreed with them.

“Y/N, stop.”

His feet had begun to move at last, hurrying after her as fast as the slippery grass allowed until he could make out her silhouette only an arms-length away and reached for her.

“Please stop.”

His voice was soft, but his hold on her wrist wasn’t. He couldn’t let her walk away from him, not like this. Not before he had told her—

But the moment she turned to face him, the words died away in his throat as he took her in in the faint moonlight, two watery lines cascading down her cheeks like streams of stars. Words would not be enough to make them stop. It was foolish, a gesture born from sheer helplessness in the face of his beloved’s despair, but there was no falter in his hands when he pulled her in and sealed her lips with his own.

It wasn’t at all what he had hoped their first kiss to be like. But at least for a second he could feel her return it, her hands coming up to his chest, fisting the thick denim of his jacket, before she pushed him away.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

His honest bewilderment seemed to be completely lost on her. Instead her chin began to tremble dangerously.

“Don’t be kind to me because I’m sad. Your pity just confirms they are right.”

“Pity? You think this was a gesture of pity?”

Her silence was answer enough and Andrew could see her retreat into her shell again. Soon, she would once more shoot him that apologetic smile and flee the scene, without ever knowing that in this very moment, pity was the last thing he felt for her.

“What about this then?”

This time, he knew exactly what he was doing. Fully prepared to be pushed away again, to be yelled at or be slapped in the face, he leaned down. Gentle fingers cupped her cheek and he took it as a good sign that she didn’t shy away from his touch. He waited, one last moment for her to stop him, but she didn’t, and so he closed the last gap between them.

This was what it should have been like the first time. Soft and tender, full of affection, every fibre of his being filled with her until he didn’t know anymore where he ended and she began. Through the haze of his rapture he faintly noticed the soft press of her body against his, unwavering arms wrapping around his neck, and he pulled her closer, securing her in his arms while she moaned her sweet approval into his mouth.

He could have kissed her like this forever, but he still had a point to prove, a statement to make, and so he pulled away.

“Still think this was a pity kiss?” he panted against her lips and when her answer didn’t come, he pulled away further to look at her. He had hoped to be met with the familiar warmth of her eyes, but he found her gaze fixed on his jacket instead, where she watched her own hands adjust his collar.

“Even if it was—”

“It wasn’t.”

“Still,” she paused for a second, “what they say is true.”

“So? What’s wrong with being special?”

“I think we both know they didn’t mean special in a good way.”

Andrew sighed as his palm found her cheek again. “Maybe they didn’t.” He gently tilted her head and waited patiently until she finally decided to look at him. “But I do. I mean it in the best way possible when I say you’re special to me, Y/N. They may be right, you are complicated. But aren’t we all in our own way? That’s how nature has created us, as absolutely unique individuals, beautifully complicated. None of them may understand this, measuring you by society’s grotesque norms instead, but to me you are easy to love.”

“Andy, I…”

“It’s okay, love. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same about me. I just wanted you to know.”

This was it. He had said what he had wanted to say. Now she would try her best to be gentle in her rejection, thank him for his honesty and leave. He would probably not see her again after tonight.

“Fuck,” he mumbled as his forehead sank against hers, “I should have told you a long time ago.”

“Maybe, yes. Then again, I don’t think you could have chosen a better moment to tell me than this exact one.”

His brain had no time to process what she had just said, distracted by the hands that found his trembling form again, one gliding into the warm space between his shirt and jacket, the other smoothing along his cheek and into his hair to hold him in place. As if he would ever even consider parting from her in a moment like this. And then he could feel it again for a heartbeat, the feathery touch of her lips on his, ethereal and unreal like a fleeting daydream.

His next words came in a whisper against her own, anxious if he lost their touch, he might wake from this dream after all. “Do you still want to get out of here?”

“Desperately.”

“Will you let me walk with you then? Just to make sure my special girl gets home safe and sound.”

“I think,” she said quietly, her breath leaving a honeyed due on his lips, “that’s the best idea you had tonight.” Slowly he moved, still reluctant to part from her, and it was only when he had secured her hand safely in his own that he dared to pull away and began walking. “Your best idea apart from that pity kiss, maybe.”

“I told you, woman, it wasn’t a pity kiss.”

It was too dark to see her now, the moonlight shielded from them by the thick branches of a fir tree that hung above. And so, there was nothing he could do but squeeze her hand to make his protest known.

“Bollocks,” she huffed teasingly as she squeezed back, causing Andrew to stop in his tracks.

“Do I need to show you again?”

“It surely won’t hurt.”

She squealed in surprise as he wrapped his arm around her middle and manoeuvred her backwards. With a soft groan, her spine was pressed into the gnarly bark of the tree while her head landed securely against the back of a large hand that shielded it from impact.

“Kiss me, Andrew,” she breathed into the expectant silence, her fingers finding his lush curls again and guiding him towards the source of her heady whisper. And he did. Until he could feel the world around him starting to spin. He could have blamed it on the lack of oxygen or the darkness around them that heightened his senses, maybe even on the mere fact that this kiss had seemed so utterly unthinkable by the beginning of this evening, but he knew too well that it was the woman in his arms who made this kiss the most special he had ever shared. A kind of special he vowed to always cherish and never take for granted.

#hozier x reader #hozier #hozier fanfiction #hozier imagine #hozier fic #hozier fanfic #Andrew hozier byrne #special

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