damagedisolateddesperate

[damagedisolateddesperate]

Thank You | John Winchester Fanfiction

Notes: This is a one-shot. This is rushed and I don't even know if this fic would even make sense. I know that John is an asshole to his kids and I hate him for that. But he's the reason why I am currently watching Supernatural, I'm in season 5.

Warnings: Angst, profanities, degradation, flashbacks

"Why didn't you obey my orders?!"

John yelled, causing you to shock and stiffen in your place. You saw Sam approaching the door and supporting Dean, who was unconscious, to be laid on the bed.

"I- I, I just- "

You stammered until John cut you off.

"You just went on by yourself, and you wrecked the plan! God damn it, Y/n! We never got to kill it!"

You gulped and breathed deeply, knowing perfectly well that what he accuses you of is the truth. This is entirely your fault. Nothing of these shit talks to you would have happened if you had listened to what he said. However, if you do comply with his demand, you will undoubtedly pay a significant loss.

"John.."

Your voice was hoarse when you attempted to approach him. Your quivering hands were reaching towards his shoulder. Your eyes widened in terror as he abruptly seized your wrist forcefully, bruising you and exposing your veins as a result of the uncomfortable pressure. Your entire body came to a halt as you sensed his animosity against you.

"John- "

"You are useless a bitch, do you know that!"

He spat, still grasping your wrist fiercely, oblivious to the pain in your misty eyes. Your heart was pounding violently inside of you, and your dread had taken control of your head. You've never seen John like this before or been treated like this by him.

"Please, John. You have to understand that- "

"I clearly understood what you did, with that pathetic thick skull of yours thinking that what you're doing will work out! All you just have to do was to stick with my plan and you broke it!"

He was yelling at you, and the flood of emotions washed over you. For the first time in your life, he made you cry.

"You broke it, Y/n!"

"Dad, please. That's enough."

Sam interposed, placing his palm on his enraged father's chest, but John ripped Sam's hand away.

"You will never know how much time, sweat, and blood I wasted in hunting that sick son of a bitch. Now, we already have it, trapped in the demon's trap and was about to get killed, but you just fucking let that son of a bitch get away."

John stated with a tone of sarcasm and malice in his voice, attempting to convince you that this is all your fault. He was imploring you that you are guilty. You, on the other hand, have just sobbed; you had no idea how his words would strike so deeply into your soul. Yes, he was stating harsh realities. But what he was about to do was wrong. So, for the time being, you just have to accept the blame, accept whatever he accuses you of, and know that you still have a chance of killing the demon.

You tried to remain motionless and silent, but it hurts that he treats you this way. Talks to you as though you're some kind of a piece of shit. You can feel every ounce of his hatred simply from his words and the strain on your wrist. However, you attempted to comprehend what he felt behind this mission for personal reasons. Imagining yourself in his shoes, you realized that the fiend you set loose was the one that killed his loving wife. And, because he spent his life finding the demon, this bitter outburst that he was experiencing and expressing to you is completely understandable.

"You will never be part of this mission anymore, Y/n!"

He commanded, his eyes seeing right through your soul, that he's serious about it. On the other hand, you find it difficult to believe what he was saying. You dedicated your life as a hunter to exterminate this evil. Being taken from this task is just unjust, and you find yourself becoming enraged at the man you admire. You cannot just be cut off.

"You cannot do that to me, John. You cannot just exterminate me in this."

You tried to speak out, but your voice remained soft, attempting to sound sincere since you can never raise your voice at him, even if he is raising his voice at you right now. When you spoke back, John's eyes widened and his fury completely dominated his head.

"Excuse me, woman. Do not question my orders for the last time and again!"

Dean was now cognizant as John shouted again, but Dean's eyes were still struggling to open. Sam was just there, seeing his father's overwhelming outburst, but he lacks the strength to speak out since he knows the outcome of this tumultuous talk will be regrettable. He understood that when his father's mind was not in the exact state, he would never be able to control his words. And Sam was well aware that his father was definitely not in the appropriate frame of mind at the time.

"If I said what I said, do not even dare to disobey it, Y/n."

John said, finally Sam dared to speak up.

"Dad, if Y/n really did follow your orders, Dean will die. Please, understand what she was trying to do. My brother, your son, could have died!"

Sam attempted to enlighten his father's thoughts, but John heard and saw black. His mind was so concentrated on that awful monster that he couldn't even comprehend the consequences of killing it. That is exactly what might have occurred. Dean may have died if you had listened to John's words.

You were the only one who was still safe and capable of doing things while John and Sam struggled to breathe as Dean, who was possessed by the yellow-eyed monster, suffocated them. When you noticed Samuel Colt's gun on the floor, you quickly grabbed it and pointed it towards Dean's head, which was only five feet away.

"Do it now!"

John shouted, and you hesitated if you should do it for a few seconds. You cocked the pistol, but your hands trembled. You can't shoot Dean because, as far as you know, he's still there.

"Do it, Y/n. It's okay."

When you heard Dean's voice, your hold on the colt tightened. But you know it's simply the devil's ploy to get you to shoot him. However, it was the actual Dean, but you were unaware. John's gaze was fixed on you, and you couldn't help but feel nervous. You can't just shoot his son because he expected you to. But you can't do it. Because of your concern, the black smoke spewed out of Dean's mouth, and you messed up the whole thing.

"I shouldn't have let you be a part of this mission because you mess everything up!"

He yelled again, and he was wreaking havoc in the motel room you all rented. He destroys everything he sees on the ground, and you're taken aback. Yanking the paintings as well, and it's all because of you.

"Just one order Y/n, just one! And you cannot do it, you useless whore!"

You can hear your heart breaking apart now as it hurts. John has never ever referred to you in these derogatory and offensive terms. You've never felt like this before. The fact that you are being humiliated by the one you love is awful, and you are feeling it now.

"Dad, stop!"

Sam uses force to stop his father, but John has already hit him in the face. Sam was knocked down and was on the ground. Your eyes widened, and you couldn't stand it any longer. You courageously approached John, attempting to touch his shoulders once again, but he smacked you in the face.

"Do not touch me!"

It was unexpected, and you were caught off guard; you tumbled and ended up on the ground as well. The lingering ache in your face may still be felt. Your tears could not seem to stop as you touched your face with your palm. This is because you enraged John.

"John, please. I'm so sorry."

A couple of hours before the mission, you and John were laying on the motel bed, both of your hands were clasped at each other while facing the ceiling. You can feel that John was a bit tense, afraid, in fact. You have never seen him being afraid before.

"John, it's okay. You can tell me everything, but if you're not comfortable, it's okay."

To soothe him, you whispered gently while stroking his hair. He closed his eyes, and the mere sound of your voice comforts him. His hands clenched in yours, but not in a threatening manner.

You and John have been together for a long time. His realization that you had become his motivation, passion, and love took a long time. When his wife died those strange nineteen years ago, he didn't think he'd fall for another lady. When he saw you cleaning shotguns, he couldn't help but stare at you since you were awesome and an exceptional hunter. Your first encounter with him occurred when you outwitted him about his plan to hunt down some ghouls. He admired you for it, and you enthralled him. You, on the other hand, were enamored with him as well. Staring looks while he is concentrating on something, ensuring that he will not catch you staring at him. Both of you are enamored with each other. At long last, he told you that he loves you.

"It's just... I don't know, Y/n. You are here, Sam and Dean too."

"But to be honest with you, John. Sam is right. We all should be together in this."

John rose up from the bed, withdrew your hand from his clasp, and then covered his face with his hands. You imitated his action, your hands suddenly cupping his face to look at him.

"We can do this together."

You said.

"I'm scared, Y/n. I'm scared because you and those boys are just the only ones I got. I have never even wanted you to join in this. I so much love you. You know that."

"Yes, I know. I love you too."

He kissed you, and you reciprocated it.

"Promise me that whatever it takes, we must kill that son of a bitch down."

He said as you sat on his lap, your head resting on his shoulder to hug him. After hearing him say that, you were overwhelmed with uncertainty and doubt. It is, nevertheless, his plan, and you must submit to it.

"Whatever it takes, I promise."

"I'm so sorry, John."

You were now on your knees, begging for his forgiveness. You broke the promise, and it was this that caused John the most outrage. And now you're in this predicament. You may have shattered his trust, but you favored his son's life. Why must he be so inconsiderate to that?

"Dean could have died."

You said he just scoffed.

"You promised that whatever it takes, we must kill the demon! Why can't you stand for that!?"

He yelled.

"Because he is your son!"

You exclaimed, and you have raised his voice at him. When you mentioned it, he remained silent for a time. Your comprehension has grown as you've come to realize that John would do whatever it takes to revenge his wife's murder, even if your life or that of his own son is in jeopardy.

"I thought you love me."

You tried to get up on the ground cautiously. Because he was unintentionally blinded by rage, John's gaze was on the floor, and he couldn't figure out what he was talking and doing.

"How can I love you when you're just a stupid, reckless, clingy whore and can't follow my words, huh?"

You couldn't believe what he said. Just earlier said that he loves you. You're definitely doubting it now. You didn't say anything at all. You dreaded him because he was heading recklessly towards you. You were terrified by his looks, theatrics, and behavior. When your back contacted the wall, you took a step back. Did he truly care about you?

"How can I love you when you are just a burden to me, Y/n?"

"Please, I know you don't mean that."

He slapped you again. Blood was forming on the side of your lips.

"You are nothing but a burden. I have never even loved you, I only used you."

Dean was approaching both of you when he struck John with a powerful punch. Dean struck him twice more as he crumpled to the ground. You were taken aback when Dean did that.

"Well, he's gonna be asleep for a while, Y/n. What Dad said is a bunch of crap. He was just angry and hell, he cannot really control his words when he's like that. I'm sorry."

"Sure seems like it. It's okay, Dean."

You said while Dean carried John to the couch.

"Thanks for saving my ass, by the way."

You simply nodded. As Dean laid John on the sofa, he was also carrying Sam all the way to their room, leaving you with John who had been knocked unconscious.

It was almost in the middle of the night and you walked towards the bed. John should be sleeping there by your side, but Dean put him on the couch. You were now alone, missing the warmth of his embrace. John should be lulling you to sleep by holding you. Your thoughts, on the other hand, reverted to the things he had spoken to you.

Because you didn't obey his commands, he was evidently dangerous, displeased, irate, angry, and furious at you. However, at what cost? Dean, his son, is in danger of losing his life, and John intended to kill him because the demon possessed him. Because the demon was trapped, John believed it was the greatest way to kill it. It's just not worth it for you; there'll always be a chance to catch that monster. We're talking about Dean's life here, his loyal son.

Afterward, there were the words, the harsh things that John said to you, and the names he used against you. He said words that were sharp as knives, cutting right through your heart. With each phrase, your worth was gradually dwindling. When he humiliated you, it was terrible, and you felt ashamed. When he uttered those, it was as if you didn't exist to him, and you hoped that everything he said was pure rage and that he only needed to vent his violent wrath through those cruel words. You were then shattered when he revealed that all of those remarks came from his heart, that he doesn't love you but uses you.

Oh, how much you loved that man. You must first climb up the barriers that he created for himself in order to approach him. It's for you to speak with him and for him to open his heart. That man of your dreams who would satisfy your desire was a catch. The one who will vow to love and protect you. He confessed to you that he loved you. Were the actions simply an act? Was it all simply a ruse?

You tried to believe that all he said is just a lie. You want to believe that those words are nothing. But something screams in your mind that he really did mean all of it. Were you just a burden? Did he just use you by pretending to love you in order to help him in this mission? He did love you, right? Or not? You need to know before you lose your sanity. This situation is really difficult, but you love him so much that you just want to forget what he said and to stay by his side, disregarding the fact that he hit you. And for the record, his handprint still lingers on your face, let alone the stinging pain.

However, you cannot always rely on your heart while making a decision. Because you know you are a strong woman, you know what he said and did to you is wrong, and you know you are worth more than this. Others are dissatisfied when people make mistakes that cause them to feel disappointed. They don't, however, have the right to degrade you or talk crap about you. It aches deep down that you gave your best, yet it doesn't bother him. You can't live with the fact that the demon is more important than Dean. Although you don't have personal feelings for Dean, those lads were like your family as well. They're more like brothers to you, not in blood, but in oneness.

You suddenly began to question your feelings for him. Do you still love him? Yes, you still love him. Does he love you? No, you don't know. But as you remembered what he said, you have now your answer.

You fucking love him that somehow it fucking hurts you that you love him too fucking much.

But what he has done and said to you is not fucking acceptable.

John awoke to the sight of an orange hue in the sky as the long night had passed. He suddenly felt empty when he was alone, only to remember he was on the sofa. He scoffed at the idea of being an idiot. He went up to go towards the kitchen to make some coffee for two. As he got back, you were nowhere to be seen. He thought you might be using the bathroom, but as he thoroughly observed the room, all of your things were nowhere to be seen too.

His senses were filled with a sudden panic. He searched in every corner of the room, and it was clear that you were gone. When he saw a paper folded into a crane that he recognized as yours, he felt his eyes watering. He unfolded the origami only to discover the words in your message were fading.

Dear John,

I hope you're doing well and that you're applying an ice pack to your jaw. Because it's from Dean, it must hurt. When I broke our promise, I am fully and genuinely begging for your forgiveness. But, because Dean is your son, I can't just let him die. And, even if I am not really important to you, you must know who to prioritize, John. I know there is still a chance of finding this demon because you're John Winchester for the love of god.

However, do you really love me?

You will never know how much I love you, I would even shoot myself with Colt's gun if that demon was possessing me. But I cannot shoot your son. Please understand that I can never kill one of your boys, and it is hurting me that you gave me that order. I know that I screwed up the mission. But I saved Dean and you are opposed to the idea of it? Why would you let him die?

I wanted to believe that those words you said to me are just nothing, you know? But it feels like you are saying it to me because of what I really am to you.

I apologize if I'm useless, reckless, or a burden. I would have never known how much weight I put on your shoulders. And thank you for letting me know sooner than I did. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't know you were suffering because of me.

I love you, John. I love you but I need to get out. I need to leave because you hurt me.

However, thank you for letting me take care of you. Thank you for giving me a way to enter your heart, kiss you, hug you, and make love to you. Thank you for giving me a chance to love you, and I cherished every single moment of that.

I love you and thank you for everything, John.

~Y/n

John couldn't accept the fact that this paper he's reading is your farewell. He loved you, he truly loved you. He did. He was so enraged with himself that he let his rage consume him. He was out of control at the moment, and he didn't intend what he said. It was impossible for him to give up hope of finding you because he truly loves you, and it is not a lie. His statements were foolish and nothing.

His life depends on you. You were never a burden, irresponsible, or even futile. In fact, when he needs consolation, he always looks for you. Because he is so in love with you, he relies on you. His life was still uninteresting when he hadn't met you. After seeing you, he finally got the strength and bravery to wake up, yearning to see you again. You become his love interest, and he now desires you. He hasn't been able to bear the thought of you not being by his side, and he doesn't want to be left alone again. He has hurt you and admits it, and he intends to plead with you for forgiveness.

He opened the door only to be met by Sam and Dean, and they looked so miserable and sad. John noticed that Dean had tears falling from his eyes.

"What is it?"

John asked.

"What is it, Dean?"

Dean just walked out from his father. Sam was left trying to gather up to say his father the news.

"She's dead, Dad!"

Sam yelled, trying to hold his tears back. John could not just believe what they were saying so he gripped Sam's collar because of anger.

"No, she's not. She just left!"

Sam finally lost his father's grip, so Sam pushed his father into a nearby wall.

"Dad, you talked shit to Y/n. And now, she's gone."

John tried to get away from his son's grasp. His mind is still persuading him that you're still alive.

"No, Sammy, she's no- "

"Yes, Dad. Y/n is dead!"

Dean yelled.

"If you remember all you said to her yesterday. You will never know how hurt Y/n was. You were being cocky last night. In fact, you were an asshole, and you broke her."

Dean shouted fiercely as his tears gushed forth, not looking at his father. Dean never really embraces the fact that you are no longer with them; you were his best friend, and god, he hoped you are still alive. Not wanting to cry in front of his father, Sam was biting his lips. John's attention was on Dean, but he clearly denies what his son says.

"No, we're not lying, Dad. That crap you said made her question everything. You made her leave!"

"Dean, stop."

"Well, I am surely okay with the idea of her shooting me with that damn gun, Dad. I even said that it was okay. But she can't, so she denied your request."

"Shut up, Dean!"

John yelled.

"No! She made a mistake, but, Dad, you should have never talked to her like that. I may be unconscious, but I can still hear your voices because of how loud as hell you all are."

Dean finally looked at his father, trying to catch his attention.

"You loved her dad, but you hurt her."

John was on the edge of tears.

"Then she left because she cannot take the crap that you said to her. Now her body was found in some river."

"You're lying!"

"It was on the news, Dad. The description of the victim is the same to Y/n. A witness said she was being strangled by a person who was using contact lenses. It was yellow."

Sam said and his father's eyes widened.

"Y/n is dead, Dad. That filthy stuck-up demon killed her."

Sam's grasp was softening because of sadness. John dramatically fell while leaning on the wall. The painting at his back came along with him. Your letter was still in his hands, nearly crumpled. Then his tears started to flow in his eyes like an endless stream.

He cried, and his body could not seem to stop shivering because of sadness and agony. The thought of losing you has completely shattered his heart and mind.

You died thinking that he loathes you, and he cannot live with that.

He lost you because of him. He really did not mean what he said, and he was sorry. He only wants you, and then you're gone. Why can he be so harsh on you? He made you cry. He made you question everything. He regretted what he did, and he couldn't even deny to himself that he did hurt you.

It was torturing him that it's his responsibility that you left, then you died at the hands of the demon who killed his wife.

He truly loved you. He did. But he was blinded by bitterness, and he hurt you.

He would never have uttered those words to you if he could go back in time. It was, however, far too late.

How could he be so foolish as to let his wrath obscure him as he said such horrible words to you?

How can you even thank him for that?

#supernatural #spn #john winchester #john winchester fanfiction #john winchester angst #john winchester x reader #spn fanfic #jeffrey dean morgan

[damagedisolateddesperate]

Don't Leave Me | Negan Fanfiction (Part 1)

Warnings: Fluff and profanities (A bit of an angst-ish)

Notes: Just read this fanfiction if you want to.

(I don't know when will be the part 2 of this, but I hope this is good:)

"Please, someone help me!"

You pleaded, screaming your lungs out for help when a horde of undead rushed towards you. You realized no one heard your desperate cry. You thought it was the end of the beginning of your chapter when a man in a leather jacket appeared in front of you.

"Come on, doc, get up."

The man said breathlessly. Unfortunately, you cannot walk or stand properly due to a severe wound on your right thigh.

"Shit, doc, what the fuck happened to you?"

The man asked as he carefully carried you up to his arms.

"Got grazed by a bullet. I can patch it up later."

You said limply as his strong arms engulfed you. You felt safe in his protective embrace after inhaling the masculine scent from his chest. A squad of soldiers came sprinting by as he carried you across the hall, so he hastily rushed inside a little room, where both of you hid. The place was barely big enough for one individual.

"If you don't mind, just clung to my neck and hug me tight for our fuck sakes so both our nuts would fit in this damned closet and not get fucking caught up by those troops, please."

You do not reason anymore as you try to reach his neck and grab hold of it. Instead, you lost your consciousness to his arms.

"Fuck no, doc, stay with me."

He tightened his hold on you as if he was never letting you go and hoping that you would never go.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were feeling empty and light-headed when you realized you were in an unfamiliar place. You were wrapped in black blankets, your white coat was nowhere to be seen, and the clothing you were wearing wasn't yours. You attempted to get out of bed and stand, but you fell to the ground abruptly.

Hearing the door open, your gaze is drawn away from the door to the man who saved you from the day you were going to become the one you had dreamed of as a child. He was dressed in a sleeveless grey shirt and pajamas, rectangular spectacles on his eyes, and a book in his hand that you found quite familiar.

"That's my book, Mr. Stanger."

You murmured, embarrassed by how helpless you appear on the ground. When you felt your arm being carefully handled by him, you struggled to stand up but failed miserably.

"Don't be so cheeky, doc. You're still not fucking fine, and I guess you should fucking keep your ass on the big-ass bed and try to recuperate for the next hours."

He said while laying you carefully on the bed. You silently observed his arms full of tattoos, and you were pretty enthralled by it. 'The art is written on the art itself,' you thought.

"Uhmm."

The man turned his head to you as he heard you were going to say something.

"Why did you save me back there? Also, where did you get that book, and where's my white coat?"

You respectfully questioned.

"To answer your question, doc, if you rationally comprehend what you were desperately yelling back there, someone would have the balls to save you in that kind of situation. Well, since I have these balls that are damn fucking humongous than the iceberg that took down the fucking Titanic, also because of my concern, I helped you."

He said in a sarcastic but charming use of tone.

"And also, I quite got captivated by the book in your bag, and the white coat was bloody as fuck."

He added. You were quite alarmed at what did he do to your white coat.

"Where is my white coat?"

You asked, keeping your voice down low out of respect for him. He just smirked, and he walked out to your room, leaving you wondering what did he do in your precious white coat. Out of the ordinary, you suddenly remembered that you had a collateral wound on your thigh. So you speculated it, and you were amazed at how it was stitched and patched up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I guess the book that got you captivated made some difference, huh."

You said when he entered your room again to bring you some food.

"Fuck yeah, I guess so too. No need for years of mind fuck just to become a doctor."

He teased you, sneering at you that made you feel a little offended, yet you still laughed. You tried hard not to chuckle at any of his amusing and vulgar remarks, but he got you off guard this time.

"The fuck, doc, you sound like a demented tractor on crack."

That's why you don't want to laugh. He observed your face didn't light up, and he felt terrible about what he said.

"That was fucking very rude of me. I didn't know that you would be offended. Please accept my fucking apology."

He said, clearly hoping it would make your mood lighten up.

"For your information, you offended me two times. Firstly, med school is not a mind f-word. Lastly, I know that my laugh sounds like that. You just don't have to say it in front of my face. But it doesn't matter. It's not a big deal. You're forgiven."

You said without looking at his face but only on your twiddling fingers.

"You sure about that, doc? Because I felt like it moved the shit inside of you when I said those things to you."

He carefully asked just to be sure not to offend you more.

"Yeah, mister, I am a hundred percent sure."

You stated while grinning at him. You also extended your right hand to ensure him. He opened his hand in response, and you both shook hands.

'He's warm,' you thought as you felt the warm hold of his large hand on yours.

'She's cold,' he thought, feeling the icy grasp of your little hand on his own.

You both did not want to end holding each other's hands, as your eyes are staring at each other with curiosity and intrigue.

There was a silence lingering as one of you cleared your throat.

"For this fucking time, what's your name, doc?"

He asked, attempting to break the awkward silence.

"Keep calling me doc. It's keeping me sane."

You smiled. Yeah, it's the truth. Him, calling you doc was keeping your mental state steady. The man uncertainly raised his eyebrows in your answer.

"Y/n L/n."

You answered, your eyes on the ground.

"That's a fucking beautiful name, doctor L/n. Out of my fucking curiosity, though, why would it keep you sane if I keep calling you 'doc', doc?"

He asked, switching his right leg crossed and placing his hand under his chin.

The curiosity behind his eyes is focusing on yours.

"Ah well, how would you feel after years of hard work, fighting the temptation to go out with my friends for studying, and days, weeks, or months of no sleep for nothing? I mean, I studied and worked very hard to become a neurosurgeon. And on that day, I strode proudly and honorably into those corridors for my first operation on a patient, when those newly arriving cadavers from the morgue began groaning and devouring the flesh of those embalmers. Those who were resurrected from the dead unleashed damnation upon humanity as well as the Earth. But hearing you call me doc because you saw me in that white medical coat keeps me hopeful that I can still be a doctor in this god-forsaken world. I am grateful to you for giving me hope in the face of the seemingly impossible."

You stated wholeheartedly, feeling at ease enough to convey something personal to a stranger in front of you. You extended for his hand, tightening your grip as a show of gratitude.

"Damn, doc. Are you related to fucking Edgar Allan Poe or something?"

He asked. You're not sure if he's serious or not, but the humor behind his joke let out another breathy laugh in your throat.

As you laughed and smiled at him, your face contorted into a frown, and you couldn't help but weep from what you said. You pressed your trembling palms to your cheeks, not wanting that good-looking stranger witnessing your ugly weep. The man in front of you then closely held you and carefully caressed your soft black hair.

"Shhhh. Y/n, sweetheart, it's okay. It's okay."

His voice was deep, with a bit of husky tone, and the way he spoke your first name was a clear sweet symphony to your pair of ears.

"Even if the world got fucked up or got into some crazy ass shit like what we see on god damn Sci-fi movies, you are still a doctor, no matter fucking what. Yeah, you might think it's impossible to serve and protect people's nuts in this kind of a "Shaun of the Dead" situation, but you have to always keep in that incredible fucking mind of yours that there are still people who need your help."

He encouraged you from his words, which helped you a lot deep down to yourself.

"I'm so sorry if I'm so emotional, mister. Perhaps I sound stupid."

You said, still crying your eyes out.

"No, this is not fucking stupid, darling. It's okay to let out your emotions. If you keep that forever in your mind, you might fucking lose yourself. Remember that you have a shoulder to cry and lean on."

He said, still caressing your back continuously to calm you down. As he said, you tightened yourself around him. You cried so hard and let out your excruciating emotions and thoughts lingering in your chest. You have noticed that your tears soak his shoulder.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry, mister."

You pleaded, reaching for the blanket to wipe your tears on his shoulder.

"No, darling, don't bother about it. It's okay."

He slowly motioned your hands to stop wiping his shoulders. His smile was still visible on his face. He slowly grabbed for your face, delicately wiping away the tears that had stained it. With his thumb, he gently caressed your cheeks. You stopped sobbing after letting your face rest on his touch. Oh god, how you wish to stay like this, feeling his warmth for eternity.

"Damn, doc, you okay now?"

"Yes, I'm okay, mister."

You said, still feeling the warm hand of his.

The man inwardly admired your openness and honesty to him. Suddenly, he realized how protective he had become of you. Not allowing any minor inconveniences or even danger to approach you. He would never have imagined caring for another person after losing someone so dear and important to him.

"Please, if you may, don't call me mister. Because it's too fucking cheesy, and I feel like I am fucking old. Just call me Negan."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Although your wound is still healing, you've been living with Negan for days. The place that you are temporarily staying is somewhat growing on you. His home was not much, but the minimalistic view inside was relatively tranquil and pleasant. By the day, you're feeling a lot better. You begin walking cautiously, but Negan is still holding your waist to prevent you from falling.

There are instances when you stroll by yourself without his knowing. When you stumble and make a loud thudding noise, Negan will approach out and examine you to see whether you're harmed. It sometimes annoys him a bit when you don't follow what he said, 'Don't fucking walk alone without my help, doc.' But, at the very least, he thought it would be better if you trained yourself in case he wasn't around.

You came upon something you'd been longing for while wandering around his house. You tripped again as you ran towards Negan, forcing him to rush at you once more.

"Jesus, doc. I fucking let you walk around by yourself without my help. Yet you always end up your ass getting kissed by the fucking floor."

He said, his eyebrows were scrunched while helping you to get up.

"Sorry, mister, I was just running towards you if I can borrow that guitar over there."

You softly blurted and pointing your fingers to the exact direction of the guitar.

"Okay, okay. All that bullshit just to borrow my guitar?"

He asked with an intrigued tone in his voice.

"Yes."

You quietly muttered. Your hands are nervously fiddling behind your back, and your eyes are on the ground.

"I'll let you borrow my fucking guitar but for one fucking condition. I'm sorry, but I do not allow you to walk without my help because you're still not entirely fine."

He stated while placing his hands at the side of your shoulders to look him in the eyes.

"Please understand because it fucking bothers me so much that you always fall, and your ass would take a hard impact on the floor. I know for fucking sure that it hurts like a son of a bitch. And for the last time, please just call me Negan."

You nodded, agreeing to his condition because he sure has a point. You are not entirely okay, and you're keeping your buttocks red because of falling on the floor.

He grinned and raised his eyebrows as you nodded. He was walking away towards the direction of the guitar. Giving the guitar to you, the excitement on your fingertips rapidly attaches to the strings.

When Negan was leaving you alone in the kitchen to make dinner, he heard you plucking the song's opening and decided that the food could wait while he listened to you. He was hiding behind the closed door.

Your soft, beautiful voice accompanied the rhythm as you strummed the guitar, and he heard it. He closed his eyes to secretly savor the sensations evoked by the lovely music you provided.

He never thought that he would feel this kind of familiar feeling on his recently ruined heart again.

As the song fades in your guitar, he enters your room, causing you to startle.

"Oh, I'm sorry, doc. I didn't mean you to shit your pants there."

He said, smiling awkwardly, closing the door and forming a peace sign on his right hand.

"It's okay mister. I mean Negan."

He took a glance at you with his embarrassed smile. You lowered your gaze on the guitar while fiddling with your fingers, feeling your heart erratically beating.

"Sorry, I'm just not accustomed to first-name basis to other people who I don't know that much."

Negan pressed his lips tight for a split second.

"Okay, here's a deal. We get to know each other like I ask a question to you, but you have to answer the fucking truth. No bullshit drinking because we don't have any liquors here. But just wait for me here. Just do whatever you want, but don't fucking walk without me, okay?"

As a response, extending his hand to you, you extended yours too.

"It's not like I'm going anywhere but, okay."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You obeyed what he instructed when you should not walk without him as you waited for him without knowing what he was doing. You concentrated all of your time on playing the guitar. You were never aware of how painful your fingers were as a result of the magnificent songs you'd been playing on the instrument.

You stopped playing and decided to lay on the bed for a while, and placed the guitar beside you. Your eyes met the white ceiling of his home. You closed your eyes, trying to reflect on the things you've experienced and felt after the world failed in the hands of humanity.

Suddenly, your mind focused on the man who saved you. He showed so much compassion and kindness towards you, and you owe him very much. He is always considerate to you, and you appreciate him for that. You swore that you would risk your life to repay him for what he has done to you.

Sure, he is good-looking, manly-looking to be exact, or he is really that gorgeous to take someone's breath away. His hazel eyes with a hidden story captivate you. The way he calls you doc or even your name with his broad, deep voice sends chills to your spine. Even better when he sometimes calls you darling or sweetheart. Those tattoos that were written on his arms and his chest, it was the oddest things you admired to that man. It sometimes annoys you when he swears. And that salt-pepper beard of his, you just want to caress it by your fingers.

This feeling that you have concerns you.

You haven't felt these kinds of emotions and sensations before. The way your heart beats alarmingly fast when he is near you, the nervousness behind your voice, and looking away when he's looking at you.

It's not normal for you.

You haven't been this nervous around people, except for your guardians.

But, it intrigues you.

The curiosity behind what you feel is growing deeper and deeper that sometimes you just want him to hold you close, to grasp the warm feeling from him. You want to explore this feeling, to feel what it really feels to become enamored to someone for the very first time in your life.

You want more of him, to be intimate with him. But not in a sexual way.

But at least you thought.

He might not feel the same way you feel for him. It might be just the heart-wrecking one-sided love that you always read in some hopeless romantic novels.

Your thoughts about what you feel are getting complicated.

Why now?

In this situation of the apocalypse, why would you feel this now?

Why him?

You did not expect you to feel this to someone, so why him?

Your thoughts suddenly came to a halt, and your eyes opened when you heard the door being opened again. This time, he did not startle you.

"Hey doc, come on, check this out. Oh"

He noticed you were lying on the bed, assuming that you were sleeping. He decided not to disturb you when you attempted to stand as you saw him going out of your room.

"Negan."

"Thank fucking goodness you're awake-"

He turned his back to see you standing.

"God damn, doc. I just told you not to, never fucking mind. You're not walking, by the way. Come on, doc, you probably should fucking check this out!"

The excitement behind his voice suddenly gave life to you. He takes your hand and his other hand on your waist to support you from walking, nearly making your nose bleed from the nervousness you feel for him.

Leading you outside your room, your eyes collided in a table that looked more presentable than the other nights you would eat your meal. He grabbed the chair and motioned you to sit on it.

"What's all this, Negan?"

He only smirked at you.

"Happy Birthday, doc."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I think it might be fucking awesome to celebrate your birthday even if the world got into fucking nasty shit."

He said, smiling while caressing his hair at the back of his head. You smiled awkwardly, not really keen on the idea of celebrating your birthday.

"I assume you've seen my planner."

You said while fiddling with your fingers again.

"You're absolutely fucking right. Not to mention, you are a bit fucking harsh on the note, 'The twenty-eighth year of my utterly pointless existence.'"

He said with a confused smile on his face. You, on the other hand, looked away from him. Not because of what you feel, but because you're trying to run away from the topic he's trying to talk about.

"You should not have bothered for this. You might have something to do worth your time."

"Hey, doc, this is worth my time."

He said encouragingly, reaching for your hands on the table to caress it. Your heart is beating rapidly again as he notices a forced smile on your face.

"You don't like birthdays?"

"It's just... I don't know how to explain. I'm sorry."

To make you feel uncomfortable was the last thing Negan wanted for you. You both fell in silence.

Negan has never been speechless since the beginning of his time. He was this boisterous, talkative-cusser bastard who likes to tantalize other people. Well, except for his wife, Lucille, or to be exact, his ex-wife. He never really thought he would be silenced by a gracious, well-mannered, beautiful woman like you after he lost his wife.

"I think it may not be a bad idea to celebrate my first decent birthday after twenty-seven years in my life. I really appreciate this some surprise to me from you, Negan."

You interrupted the forming silence as he glanced at you with a lovely smile.

"With all my fucking pleasure, doc."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Like what I said, we're going to get to know each other, right?"

You nodded.

"Questions don't fucking matter, but both of us should fucking answer the truth, alright?"

"Okay."

As both of you share questions and answer them, the silent room you're sitting in is replaced with quiet laughs. The questions are a bit quirky, like, what's your favorite color, favorite band, favorite movie, or what's your worst or embarrassing experience.

Both of you felt at ease talking to each other. Every time he asks you a question and looks at you with his breathtaking smile, you struggle to answer without hiding your nervousness. You're quite lucky enough that he doesn't notice the nervousness behind your voice due to the fact that you so enthrall him.

You suddenly noticed his long gaze at you. You can't quite put your finger on it, so you slowly grab the glass half-full of water and abruptly drink it.

"You're beautiful."

He muttered mindlessly.

"Sorry?"

You inquired since you couldn't exactly catch what he said. He soon snapped out of it when he heard what he said.

"Uhmm, ahem! Nothing, doc. I just want to fucking request if you can play the guitar if you want."

He said while switching to his seat and nervously scratching his beard.

"Sure! Do you have any specific song you would like me to play?"

You asked, still sensing his longing gaze at you again.

Negan was awfully stricken to you. The way you formally and gracefully answer his improper use of language questions is rapidly beating his heart. He can't even squeak a sound because of his forming nervousness in his throat. But, he still kept his composure straight.

'Do not fucking bullshit with her. Do not fuck this up, Negan!'

He aggressively thought.

"I don't fucking know. It's up to you. Try to fucking impress me, doc."

'Fuck, shit.'

On the other hand, you were trying to recall every complicated song that you successfully learned to play on the guitar. He has no idea how a mind-wreck you are on what you should play due to the fact that his attention seems to be inseparable from your face.

Fortunately, you have thought about the song you will play on the guitar. Feeling proud of the song choice that you will gladly play, you took a lot of confidence to smile first at him.

Negan felt his heart had collapsed.

As your graceful, slender fingers were dancing within the nearly rusted strings, you could feel that he was staring at you again. You struggled to play the complicated song on the guitar. Nevertheless, you are still motivated to impress him.

Right from the start, even though you aren't playing guitar this incredible, the first time Negan saw you, he was very impressed. More than impressed, actually.

He completely fell in love when he first laid his eyes on you.

It might sound ridiculous for him because on the very same day he saw you with your pleading voice desperately asking for help, his wife died. But he thought people could never really control what they feel about a particular person.

He can never understand what the exact meaning of love is. But, he knows that it is love when his heart and his mind feel it.

He felt it to you.

As you felt so empowered by the fantastic song you play on the guitar, unfortunately, one of the strings broke apart. You brought your hand on your face when you felt a slight pain in your right cheek.

"Holy shit, Y/n!"

He rushed towards you, nearly tripping his feet from the leg of the table as he was focused thoroughly on your well-being. His rough hand slowly caresses the side of the wound in your cheeks, checking if it's too severe. When his face is only inches away from yours, you can feel his warm breath.

Both of you do not have the slightest idea that your feelings are mutual.

When he left you for a second to get the first-aid kit, you felt no contact, and you were just a little displeased. Your body yearned for his comfort and warmth. You finally realized that you couldn't get away from your feelings for him any longer.

As he came back with the emergency kit, taking out the band-aid inside of it, you heard your heart had shattered like glass when you saw a commitment band on his finger.

He is a married man.

He would never be yours because he is committedly bound to another.

As you saw him approaching you with a band-aid on his hand and the mocking wedding ring on his finger, you attempted to stand. He suddenly rushed at you to support you.

"Hey, doc. You're still not fine."

He sternly stated, but a hint of concern was clearly visible in his voice. His hands were on your hips, and he carefully motioned you to sit down on the chair.

"No, please, I am fine now."

You happily said, hiding the pain behind your voice. You just want to be alone this time.

"But you have a fucking cut on your face. Let me take care of that, Y/n."

"No, don't waste your time on me anymore, please. I can take care of this by myself, mister."

You insisted, forcing a smile on your face while Negan's concerned expression turned into confusion. You slowly broke the connection between his hands on your hips, and you took the band-aid from him. You carefully walked towards the bathroom, leaving him wondering what he did.

He was gravely offended when you referred to yourself as his waste of time because all he wanted to do was to spend his time with you.

He made a huge deal about himself if you call him by his name. The way you call him 'mister' from your first encounters, it was a bit too formal for him, and he was not quite pleased with the idea of you calling him 'mister.' But when you finally called him by his name with your soft, hypnotic voice was pleasurable music to his ears. It was as if it was meant for you to call his name.

However, just by now, after you got inside the bathroom, you just called him 'mister' using your dull tone. He was taken aback upon hearing it instead of his name.

Well, he desperately desires your love and affection. He knows that there's no turning back because he's determined to finally profess his unspoken passion for you as soon as you return to the table after using the bathroom.

On the other hand, you were inside of the bathroom, trying your hardest to hold your tears back because of the painful truth you discovered today. You should have seen it coming that a man his age is already married. But him, being married did not ever cross on your mind because you thought he was the one.

You are disappointed, mad in fact, because you never knew that love would be this kind of tricky and spiteful.

Your heart and soul belong to him, but he belongs to another.

As your tears would nearly burst to escape in your eyes, you quickly turned the faucet on and put some water on your face. You carefully applied the band-aid on your wound, and you tried to calm yourself down. You decided not to meet him at the table and just sort out your raging emotions by deep slumber on the bed.

Negan heard that the bathroom door opened and suddenly closed. He could feel that his heart was pounding alarmingly fast on his chest because he expected you to be there, and his decision to confess his love to you was surreal. He really wants to be with you, to hold you close, to feel your small warm frame on his body. He wants to proclaim you to be his.

He then waited for seconds that felt like years for you to arrive at the table. He then realized you were not coming back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pain was what both of you felt.

You both want to be cherished and loved by one another. Unfortunately, none of you is aware of how the other is feeling. The other is expressing it and is adamant about discussing it. At the same time, the other tries to conceal it and intends to flee with it.

You did not talk with each other, not for days but for a long time since that night. The dejections and uncomfortable silences were what the both of you only thought and heard inside the four walls.

It was noon, and you were still on the bed. You pretended to be asleep when he brought you some breakfast. You did not give a damn about getting up because of this emotional discomfort towards him. You do not want to catch a glimpse of his face or even his shadow for you to sort out your uncontrollable desire. You want him, and you need him. But you know it's not possible because he had his love.

On the other side of the room, Negan was just sitting on the couch. He still had your white medical coat. Despite the fact that it had a bloodstain, he never cleaned it. Whenever he longs for your touch, he wears it to embrace and relish your delicate scent, envisioning your arms around him.

Feeling troubled and bothered about the idea of having silent treatments, he decided to confront you bravely. He never knew what actually happened to you when you did not return from the table. He never knew what he did wrong for you to leave him like that.

It hurt him so much when you did not return.

He sprinted fast towards your room, opening the door in a very rough manner due to his desperateness, only to find you sitting on a chair while gazing at the hopeless dead world through a window.

You suddenly stood up in shock, and your eyes went to the source of the banging sound. Instead of seeing the door, you saw him. Your heart frantically begins to palpitate as you see him erratically. You attempted to ignore this feeling because you know that it's hopeless, but you're wondering why he acts like this.

You noticed he's wearing your medical coat, and you're dissatisfied since it still has a stain from your blood on it. When you take a glimpse at his eyes, the sense of pain that it translates is highly evident.

You felt your breath becomes uneven as he started to walk towards you. Every step he took brought himself closer and closer to you as the space between the two of you had diminished. Both of your desperate hearts can be heard from afar.

"Y/n."

Negan said softly, but a pleading tone can be easily observed as he said your name. He courageously took your hand and brought it on his chest. Your face tinted a shade of crimson, and your whole body was shaking due to his actions. The warmth that his chest emits becomes another reason for you to fall in love with that man. You also noticed that the rhythm of his heart is also beating rapidly.

He suddenly realized what he had just done, so he took your hand out from his chest. His hands were clasped behind his back, and his face scrunched in a nervous look.

"I don't care how a fucking idiot I am. I don't also fucking care how it sounds, but it's only been days since we are in this house together. I just want you to know that,"

He paused, finding the courage to say it to you finally.

"I love you."

You could not believe your ears as he said those words. You don't know if it's a mockery to you, but the look on his face as he said it was genuine. You, out of once in your life, did not expect that someone would say that to you, or to be exact, you did not expect that the man who you truly love would say that to you.

"When you did not return from the table after you used the bathroom, I was sad. I really was fucking sad because it was the time that I would say my adoration to you."

He said, you're still there but shocked.

"I fucking love you, Y/n. I just want you to-"

"Stop that, please."

You interrupted him. You looked away from him as a lump was building up in your throat because you are going to make a point.

"We cannot be together because,"

"Because what?"

He interjected. Pain behind his voice, and a tear lingers in his eye.

"Because you belong to another, Negan."

You suppressed the sob that was going to come out to your throat. He suddenly realized what you said, and he checked his hands only to see that his wedding ring was still there.

"It's funny that I love you too."

You painfully stated, his body froze when you said those words too.

"But, Negan, we cannot be together. As much as my whole life want to be with you,"

You stopped for a second. You have thought if this is what you want, to be with him, to claim him, for you to belong to him. But something contradicts your mind that you shouldn't be together.

"I will not let it happen because someone special owns you. Someone waits for you and God, I hope he or she is still alive."

Part of you hopes that someone is dead so you can be with Negan. But the conscience that lies within your soul forbids it. You have been resisting temptation since you were still young, and you are pretty accustomed to it. However, resisting this kind of temptation that you feel for him is painfully difficult. Your heart always screams when you see him, but you tried putting aside your feelings because you are more concerned about his own relationship than about what you feel for him. You have morals and principles for yourself, putting yourself in agony when all you want is him.

"I really, truly am in love with you, Negan. You were the very first person who just took real care of me. You do not know the things that you do to me. I was never really aware of my own physical tendencies but, I am suddenly insecure about myself when I am with you. You are this person who just makes me feel things."

You said while your right hand reached his face, feeling his scruffy beard that you now grow accustomed to caress.

"I'm so sorry, Negan. I truly am. We're just meant to find each other. But, I can really take care of myself. After I feel well, I'll leave and never disturb you again. Thank you."

This is it. This is your decision. You will never know if you will be okay after this.

You turned away from his face, trying to run away and exit the excruciating tension in the room you two were in. You are hurt. This decision might be hard for you but you thought it would be best.

Suddenly, your wrist felt a pleasurable pressure as you were pulled from your direction. Your whole life met the warm sensation of his chest, and his arms are tightly embracing your entire small frame.

"Please, don't leave me."

He pleaded, still tightening his arms around you, hoping that you would not leave. A tear slipped on his face, and his lips slowly kissed your hair, and you did not feel it.

"Do you know why I was in that hospital?"

He asked, still desperately hugging you.

"I was tending my wife's condition. Then on that day..."

He stopped, and his tears started to fall continuously. You, on the other hand, tried to comfort him. You hooked your arms around him, and you hugged him back. You caressed your hands behind his back and made a quiet shushing noise. You never want to see him like this; seeing him like this ruins your heart.

"We don't have to talk about this, Negan-"

"Y/n, I was in deep shit when I was in that hospital. My wife died because of fucking cancer. Then this shit-ass dead-virus came to shit our lives, and I fucking lost hope. I lost her. I nearly lost myself."

As he broke the two of you in an embrace, you gasped quietly. He was clutching your shoulders, and his tear-stained face was only a matter of seconds far from yours.

"But I heard you screaming because you need help. Then I found you."

He moved his hand to your face, feeling your unwounded cheek. You rested on it as your tears flowed by.

"I felt like a fucking teenager again as I saw you. You're so beautiful and not just that. You're too nice. You're too nice for me, and I fell in love with you."

He brought your hands towards his face and pecked a long kiss on your knuckles. Your heart is constantly beating after he did that. Suddenly you are so confused. Your gaze looked down on the ground. After knowing the truth about him, you've been debating whether you'll consent to you and him being together now that his wife is gone.

"I really love you, Y/n. I swear I've never fallen in love like this so early. Please, I want you, I need you, darling. Please, I don't want you to leave."

His tears are flowing continuously and it pained you deeply. He carefully motioned your face to look at his eyes.

"I love you, Y/n."

His pleading eyes made your thoughts unite. You did not waste a single breath when you placed both of your hands on the sides of his face and your lips collided with his. Negan's eyes widened and he felt his soul leave his flesh as those lips of yours that he longs to possess finally hovered over his.

That's it. This is your final decision. You desire to be with him. You love him.

"I love you too, Negan."

You breathlessly said. A tearful smile is on your face.

Negan hasn't felt this hopeful or pleased since the death of his wife. But, because he crossed paths with you, it appears that there is still a chance for him. He wants to adore you, to own you. He was romantically entangled by you.

As he slammed his lips to you, you could feel his ecstatic tears falling on your face. He moved his palm to the back of your head to deepen the kiss, and you eagerly reciprocated it. It seemed like there was no tomorrow every time your lips were lingering over each other. You suddenly broke the kiss and placed your hand on his face to caress his beard.

"I belong to you. You own me, Negan."

You finally declared. You now belong to Negan; he owns you. You are dedicating and devoting your entire life to him. Negan has never been happier than he is now that he has you. You can't stop your tears of happiness since you're finally together.

He then rested his forehead against yours.

"You're finally mine, doc."

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