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Eighteen-year-old Negan kills his terrible stepdad to protect his mum. Perhaps stepdad’s relatives arrive during the fight and Negan kills them too in a fit of rage, thus attracting an almost thirty year prison sentence from a judge who hates him. Anyway he’s got some major internalised homophobia despite being *super* bisexual and absolutely refuses to be ‘gay for the stay’ in prison.
He comes out of prison mid-forties, either a virgin or sexually inexperienced, completely resolved to never sleeping with a man.
Carl comes along, a bit of a slut bless him, out and proud, and allows Negan to be his roommate while he’s navigating life on the outside. It starts off fine, but Negan is always silently judging Carl. Then while getting to know Carl, he starts to develop feelings for him that he doesn’t want to acknowledge, so he’s either kinda mean to Carl or he completely avoids him. He sometimes hears Carl and his various conquests through the bedroom wall and gets curious, then hates himself for it, but Carl’s gay and he’s not so bad so Negan hates himself for hating himself for getting curious.
Months pass, Negan is too busy with the only job that would hire him to think about dating or even hooking up. Negan finally allows himself to accept his own feelings for Carl. The boy’s flirting is getting obvious and Negan can’t help but just… fall into it. Negan hasn’t kissed anyone in decades, and Carl seems to realise this immediately because he has to teach him how to kiss, and shortly after, how to fuck.
Negan gets over the internalised homophobia and embraces being with another dude, but soon he has the “FUCK I COULDA BEEN DOING THIS FOR TWO AND A HALF DECADES IN PRISON BUT I WAS TOO GODDAMN STUBBORN” moment 😂
8. The way cold glass fogs when you press your hand against it
Ficlet inspired by this prompt list. Rated E.
He's still not used to the feeling of being freshly fucked. He's not sure he wants to get used to it.
He steps from Negan's cot, grabbing his underwear and pulling them on. He hears the groan that Negan gives, the way he shifts against the makeshift bed, taking up the space that Carl has left behind, like he was never there. Carl hears it but he doesn't look. He never looks.
It's wet and raw and distinctly biological. Animalistic. Everything fucks.
As he moves across the cell, peering through the window to the street outside, each footstep reminds him how unnaturally open he is. It gives him a flash of Negan's fingers working inside him, Negan grinning down at him while Carl writhed on them. Pleasure seeking. Unashamed. There were few joys in this life and Carl was owed this. He deserved it. They all had whatever vices they could afford to get them through the day.
As he gazes at the empty street, Negan's come slides out of him, leaving a sticky trail down his inner thigh. Marked. Tarnished. He imagines the cocky smirk on Negan's face at seeing what he'd done, but he knows that Negan isn't looking at him, just like Carl isn't looking at Negan. Not now. Not after. That would risk a moment of intimacy, of connection, of understanding. Carl likes being fucked. He has no interest in being seen.
That's why he's here, in the early hours of the morning, before the sun has broken the line of the horizon. The cold glass of the window fogs where his hot breath fall across it. Carl lifts his hand, still sweaty and maybe sticky with come, hovering it just above the glass, the coolness touching his palm like a ghost. Water vapour trapped in the small gap condenses on the glass, leaving a handprint that's almost not there. Just like Carl.
He pulls his hand away, watching as it dissipates into nothing, but he knows it's still there, that it will show up the next time the window fogs. He wonders if Negan will recognise it as his. There's no part of Negan's body they haven't touched.
He grabs his clothes, dressing quickly, ignoring the twinges of his insides from being fucked open, the wetness that's leaving a smear in his jeans. He doesn't feel ashamed. He appreciates the souvenirs, but only when he's away, when the cell door is locked, when he has some distance from the immediacy of the way Negan wants him.
Then he can feel clever. He can revel in being the one with the power, the one with the keys, the one who decides when and how it happens. He can touch himself and think about how Negan touches him. He can get off to the memory of what Negan looks like when he comes.
And Negan will wait. And Negan will want. And Carl is the one who calls the shots. Some days, that victory is the only thing that gets him through.
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Sorry, but Carl would NOT be a Negan apologist, even if they fucking.
The amount of fanfics I’ve read where they made Carl a walking soundboard of talking points for Negan’s defense has been insane. Y’all really think Carl would say that Negan and his father are one of the same!?!?
If he had lived, he would be the main person expecting repentance. In fact, I think he would feel personally responsible for it, considering he was the one who wanted Negan to live. He would shut down any of Negan’s attempts to minimize his past actions and let him know he has a LOT to make up for-especially if he want something more serious with him
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My handwriting is the same style as the teacher’s who I had when I was nine. I’m now twenty one and he’s been dead eight years but my i’s still curve the same way as his.
I watched the last season of a TV show recently but I started it with my friend in high school. We haven’t spoken in four years.
I make lentil soup through the recipe my gran gave me.
I curl my hair the way my best friend showed me.
I learned to love books because my father loved them first.
How terrifying, how excruciatingly painful to acknowledge this. That I am a jigsaw puzzle of everyone I have briefly known and loved. I carry them on with me even if I don’t know it. How beautiful.
idk why i love the thought of negan forcing carl to tuck himself into his chest to sleep hehe. all big n warm and carl fights it every night the first few months shouting hitting kicking until he eventually tires himself out n gives in hehe
do you remember years ago, on this site, when people would send each other asks just to send asks, when people would send each other compliments and rate each other's themes and would do follow forevers and reblog reblog reblog, and do little ask games and people actually participated in them and people would do regular fanfic recommendation lists, like every week, because they were avid readers of their fandom/ship's fics and there would be less ship wars (not always) but mostly people focused on the things they loved and had fun doing instead of being miserable, when people would do snippet fridays, sharing little looksies into whatever fic they were writing and people would compliment and reblog reblog reblog reblog, and people would comment on fics on the regular if they even so much as enjoyed it just a little bit, and oh, when people would reblog, reblog, reblog, the things they liked
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