Capri's Writing-n-Art Shenanigans

When you had escaped your frozen prison back in late October, you hadn’t really given thought to how the nuclear apocalypse may have affected the weather during the seasons. Hell, you hadn’t given thought to how nuclear radiation could’ve changed anything at that point.

You probably should have. Preferably before the middle of December, as the idea of combating radioactive snow and the freezing temperatures was now not just a damned idea, you are very much living it. Even with your wool-lined boots and the thick jacket you picked up in Diamond City, the bitterly cold wind whipping against you has long since pierced your protective clothing.

And, based on the constant stream of curses coming not too far behind you, your ghoulish companion is suffering similarly. Even Dogmeat is struggling, his usually high and wagging tail only a mere inch from dragging the ground.

Maybe it’s time to find some shelter…

Just as the thought struck your mind, the wind begins to pick up, and a new contender joins the falling snow: sleet. The horrid mix of ice and rain comes in sudden sheets, quickly drenching you and no doubt your companions, too. Your fingers are already numb as you fumble with your Pip-Boy, desperate to find something close enough to run to…

There!

“This way!” You half-scream over the roaring wind and rain, darting blindly to the right. Your Pip-Boy showed what seemed to be a house (or previously a house) in that general direction, and at this point, you have nothing to lose.

Well. Except your life from hypothermia. Or a fatal tumble to a broken neck. Slipping and landing on something sharp in a not great location.

Those thoughts put a further pep in your step, and thankfully, you can see Dogmeat running beside you as well as Hancock in your peripheral vision. You blindly grope forward as you run, and while it takes what feels like an eternity to find something solid amidst the pouring rain and ushered darkness-

OOF!

The air is knocked from your lungs as you practically clothesline yourself across the railing to the stairs.

“Found it,” you wheeze out, stumbling up the stairs. The door doesn’t budge when you try it, and you let out an exasperated cry as you jerk at it again.

“Move, sister!” Hancock budges you to the side, and delivers a hard kick to the door. The rotting wooden frame gives way under the force, leaving the door to swing open. He pushes against your back to get you inside, Dogmeat eager to follow.

You barely manage to turn the light on your Pip-Boy with your frozen fingers, but once the bright blue light shines through the darkness, you make for a nearby cabinet to push against the door. The door that Hancock has his back pressed against, the only thing standing between the mostly dry inside and the icy storm raging outside. With a few shoves, you have the cabinet wedged well enough that he can make a move to help force it the rest of the way against the door, propping it up on the stairs.

Your teeth chatter so hard, you’re impressed you don’t bite off your tongue when you speak. “W-we sh-sh-should go upstairs-s-s. Warm air r-rises.”

Hancock, breathing hard, nods and pulls out his knife, then waves for you to head up first. “You got the flashlight, might be better for you to head up first, hm?”

“Y-Yeah.” You draw your pistol, though you doubt your aim would be well enough to use it at the moment with how hard you shiver, and head up the stairs first. They are made of concrete versus standard wood, much to your relief; less likely to step on a rotten stair and go tumbling backwards. Dogmeat pushes in front of you, loudly sniffing, followed quickly by even louder sneezes.

A few minutes of checking the two rooms upstairs, and the three of you settle in the room closest to the front door and with the fewest windows. While you peel off your sodden outer clothes, Hancock pushes the armoire in front of the sole window, trying to block the draft and any potential shards of glass, should it not hold up against the storm. Your coat and the pants you had on over your vault suit hit the floor with a nasty shlunk and shlop noise, followed by your boots and soaked socks. Not too far behind, Hancock starts stripping his centuries-old duds off, with similar unpleasant noises.

Still shivering, you get your flip lighter out and light the oil lamps you’d found in one of the hallway closets, then proceed to set up candles around the room. Still, the heat from those were so little, and even your vault suit was uncomfortably damp...

You look at Hancock, who’s back is to you as he rummages in the armoire, looking through the clothes inside. You barely manage to catch the sweater and pants he tosses at you.

“I can still hear your teeth chatterin’ away over the rain, Nora. Get out of that damned suit before you catch your death.”

“What about you?”

He laughs hoarsely as he pulls out a dusty white shirt and slacks. “Covered.”

You stare at him for a moment longer… and you can feel heat start to warm your cheeks, down to your neck. “Do you… mind turning around?”

“’Course not. You just had to ask.” He gives you a wink before turning his back to you, his pure cotton undershirt showing off just how lithe his figure is under that big, red coat. “Gonna ask the same of you, though.”

It takes a second for his words to process, but you chuckle once they do, turning your back to him as well. “I think that’s fair enough.”

Your icy fingers struggle with the zipper for a moment, but you do eventually manage to get the suit unzipped to your waist. Now the fun part: trying to get out of this damned thing when it’s practically suctioned to your skin. You nearly pull your shoulder out of socket just getting it off of your arms and down to your waist, but curses start to stream from your lips as you fight to get it off of your hips and legs.

“You need some help over there?” Hancock teases, not bothering to hide the amusement in his voice.

“I am fine, mind your business, sir,” you huff angrily, nearly ripping the damned suit before almost going headfirst into the bed in front of you. “Son of a fucking bitch.”

“Whoa, whoa, that’s no way to talk about your good pal’s mother.”

With a cry of success, you manage to wrangle the last of the suit from around your ankles. “Oh, you are so funny. Is the Mayor of Goodneighbor also known for his astounding comedy routines?”

“Why, of course. Who do you think they get down in The Third Rail when Mags is sick?”

“I can’t stand you,” you huff, shaking out your damp hair. Your underthings and the thin tank top you wear under the vault suit aren’t too bad off, just damp, so you slide the sweater and pants on over them. “Are you ready for me to turn around, or do I need to continue to protect your… modesty?”

“And here I thought I was protecting yours… nah, I’m good if you are, sister.”

“Neato.” You sigh as you turn around and sink onto a patch of dry floor, trying to soak up as much warmth from the oil lamps as possible. You notice Dogmeat has taken residence a ways outside the room, likely because he keeps shaking off so much water. And, well, your other companion sits across the lamps from you, picking through his coat’s pockets, likely looking for a chem of choice to use. “I gotta say, you clean up rather well, John Hancock.”

He laughs as he pops a few mentats out of their blister packs, then dry swallows them. “Why, thank you, beautiful. Gotta say, the old world looks pretty good on you, too.”

You snort, tugging at the hem of the woven sweater. “Well, thank you, good sir. I do happen to be quite a fan of this type of sweater. I… actually think I have a few put away somewhere…”

“...why didn’t you wear one?”

“Well, I… didn’t think the winters would be so severe.”

“I mean, didn’t the term ‘nuclear winter’ get coined in your time, sister?” He teases lightly as he fishes a can of purified water out of his bag and takes a long drink.

You snatch it out of his hand when he offers it to you, huffing. “Yes, but I never thought to take it literally.”

“Hmm. Wonder who’s fault that is then.”

“Certainly not mine.”

“No, ‘course not.”

You sigh and set the can of water between the two of you before snagging a dusty pillow, turning it to the less dusty side, and stretching out on the floor. “How long do these storms tend to last?”

“Should let up in a few hours.” He mirrors your actions, but uses his arms as a pillow instead. “One good thing ‘bout it, though.”

“Nothing’s gonna brave the storm to fuck with us?”

----------

You wake very warm and comfortable, cradled to Negan's chest with his arm holding you to him. One of his thighs is pressed between yours. The comforter is pulled up to your shoulders, keeping all your shared warmth trapped beneath it, including his warm breaths tickling the back of your neck. A sleepy grin easily spreads over your lips as you stretch against him, letting loose a little moan as your legs tangle around his and your chest curves to arch over his, before settling back against him. You try to hide the little smirk as he wakes too, a grumble in his throat and his hand splaying out over your stomach. A pleasant thrill goes down your spine as he kisses it right above your shoulder blades.

"I didn't mean to wake you." 

"Mmm, my ass," he rumbles out, his voice hoarse and thick from sleep. You giggle guiltily and he follows with a low laugh, pulling you tighter to his chest. 

"I'm sorry, your ass has nothing to do with this," you tease, then gasp as his hand quickly moves to give a lazy slap at yours before settling back on your stomach. You lightly smack at his arm. "Nor is mine." 

"Oh, yours is always of interest to me, darlin'," he lets out a light laugh in your ear, his breath sending more chills down your back as a deep part of your stomach and your sex flex eagerly. Goddamn him. Your breathing stutters when his thigh rubs against your lower lips. "And apparently you like my interest." 

"Oh, shut up," you say half-joking, half-breathily. You tilt your head back so you can look at him, and the moment your eyes meet his your chest and stomach flutter in a mix of excitement and breathlessness. His hand trails up your chest, teasingly slow over one of your breasts, then his fingertips tenderly move up the rest of the way to cup your cheek. His lips perk up into a little smirk before he softly kisses your lips, very different from what the hardness against your hip indicates he wants. You grin into the kiss as your lips part only for you both to share a look before joining again. He lets out a throaty groan when he finally pulls himself fully away, his thumb stroking your cheek for a moment before he starts to untangle from you. You whine and try to cling to him. "Why so soon? Stay with me." 

"Maggie's comin' by Alexandria, remember? Figure I should try to look somewhat fuckin' proper before she decides my ass looks better roasted or strung up like a lame ass dollar store piñata." You snort and try to not laugh as it'll only encourage him, but it's so very hard. His completely off the wall humor can have it's charm, most unfortunately. He grins evilly, rolling his lower lip between his lip and teeth when he sees your expression. 

"I mean… if we adjust how you're strung up, I could very easily have my way with you and put on a show for the whole town." He bursts into a fully belly laugh as he hauls himself out of bed, giving you a very nice view of his backside, his thin hips, his chest that ends in a very pronounced "V" down to one of his favorite body parts. 

"Oh, yeah? Invite the boringly vanilla Alexandrians to our hot, sexy night of fucked up kinky sex? Am I gonna need a full-fuckin' body leather suit?" He shakes his head, clearly not liking that part of the idea. "Nah, too much leather and I get gamey. Shit's uncomfortable as shit. But," he drawls as he pulls clothes out of the drawers in your dresser you designated for him, "you in a little maid's outfit or some revealing lingerie? Shit, now that I'd fuck with. And let you fuck me in." You can't stop your giggling as he continues in detail, accentuated by a roll of his hips and a grunt. You shake your hands in front of you. 

"Stop, stop I can't breathe!" you wheeze, one hand clamping over your face as you continue in your fit of laughter. He seems utterly pleased with himself as he pulls on his boxers and pants, winking as he makes his belt pop a couple of times before sliding it through belt loops, grinning and laughing as you become completely breathless. What an absolute demon. "Awful, just awful." 

"Aww, c'mon doll, you liked the strip down I did, especially when I nearly tripped and busted ass and dick all over the floor." You let out a loud snort, clamping your hand over your face tighter in mortification. He comes towards your bedside as he slips on a shirt, his pants still unbuckled, and leans over you with such a devilish smile it makes your thighs press together. 

"Yes, but see, you were taking clothes off, not putting them on. Very different," you reply with an astute nod which does nothing but widen his grin. He tilts your chin back as your laughter finally dies down mostly and kisses you again, growling softly when you lightly nibble his full lower lip when he pulls away. Your eyes grow a little heavy when you look up at him while his thumb drags across your lip. 

"I'll make it up to you, promise. Me, buck assed naked on the bed the first moment I get." 

I pace uneasily as I prepare for the trip to the Kingdom to help them move to the Hilltop safely. With their pipelines only worsening with the impending winter and then finally busting, it was decided they needed to take shelter in another community for the time being. And, I wanted to help. However, that also means I have to leave Negan, and leave him in the hands of the others, namely Gabriel. 

I shiver as I exit out into the chilling air, snow crunching under my feet, my steps quick as I hurry to the said man’s prison. It’ll be weird not coming to sit with him every day, like I had for the last, what, four and half, maybe even five years now? I mean, I go on runs sometimes or I go help when and where I can with the other communities, but it’s been a long time since then. I’d taken over constant guard duty, which involved caring for Negan daily and keeping him company. Even if that’s currently possibly in jeopardy with the last time me leaving him in Gabriel’s hands resulted in Gabriel accidentally giving him an escape. My lips thin at the memory of the talking-to Michonne had given me once I got back. I’d never seen her so angry. 

I shake that thought off as I find the prison’s main door open due to Gabriel already being inside. I try to ignore the eager but also nervous fluttering in my stomach and chest at the thought of seeing Negan. Then the thought of having to say good-bye, even if it’s only for a little while hits, twisting those flutters into something else. As I go down the flight of stairs and approach where Gabriel stands, I hear Negan immediately start up, and it takes all my will not to grin at both that and the droll expression Gabriel is shooting him. “Oh, ho, ho! Gabe, looky here, my boss lady’s done fuckin’ showed up for duty! She’s standin’ attention as we fuckin’ speak, just like I would be if the shitty ass cold wasn’t freezing my nuts off.” 

And, no matter how hard I fight it, I still look over at him, finding a wide grin on his lips and a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. My stomach goes wild when my gaze meets his and I find the usual warmth there waiting for me. “Yes, hi, Negan. I see you’re up early. Whatever could have caused that, I wonder?”

“The goddamn cold, fuck. It’s colder than a frosty ass head-nun’s vagina up in here.” It takes all my will to not snort and burst into laughter and I very quickly retract my gaze to Gabriel, who looks completely unamused while my shoulders shake violently at my repressed laughter. 

“U-Uh-huh, I s-see,” I stutter out, trying so hard to keep it together. “Well, uh, Gabriel, you mind giving out fellow inmate here another few covers? To, y’know, keep off the head-nun’s frosting of his cell.” The priest rolls his eyes and deeply exhales from his nose.

“I guess so. The group isn’t leaving yet, stay with him while I go get them, Carrie,” he requests as he quickly leaves, shaking his bald head. I purse my lips, look at the ground for a moment, then turn to Negan again. He’s steadily making his way to the bars, a long smile that shows off his dimples on his face. I approach them too, degloving my hands and wrapping them around the bars. I wince at the bite the cold has given the metal. As he closes in, he gently lays his hands over mine, and brings our heads next to one another, our noses practically touching. 

“Hi,” I reply softly, staring into his hazel eyes. 

“Hi. So, you have to leave today huh?” He tries to sound nonchalant, but I can hear the disappointment and unhappiness he tried to hide. He doesn’t want me to go.

“Yeah. There’s a big storm that’s moving in, and we can’t afford to let the Kingdom get caught in it as is. Hopefully, I’ll be back in a few days, four or five at most.” He seems to deflate further, his smile wavering. 

“Be careful, yeah? Don’t make me have to engineer another fucking escape to come lookin’ for your ass or else you’ll be coming home with some marks on it,” he says warningly, playfully. I grin at such a suggestion. 

“Why, Negan, it almost sounds like you’re saying you’ll spank me.” His smile becomes stronger, turning into a smirk. His voice drops an octave, which sends electricity skittering all through my body. 

“Oh, Miss Grimes, it almost sounds like you might be into such a thing,” he teases back, his eyes twinkling. I can feel a slight blush working up in my face. 

“Mmm, I guess you’ll just have to find out, huh big guy?” I look away for a moment, before taking a more serious tone. “Negan.” His playfulness drops with mine. 

“Yeah?” 

“Please, try to behave. Don’t give anyone a reason to do something stupid with so many of us not here,” I plead quietly, my voice earnest. When he starts to lean away, chewing the inside of his lip, I add, “Not all of them are as nice as me and Gabriel and none of them surely will enjoy your sense of humor for long.” He snorts offendedly. 

“What, you sayin’ I have a shit sense of humor now? Gonna say good-bye, be a good little fucker, and then say that?” 

“I adore you and your sense of humor,” I answer, knowing my look has to be teasing the hell out of him, “but you also have a tendency to antagonize anyone not me or Judith when you’re left alone with them. So, I’m asking you to just play nice until I get back. Please.” His eyes hood slightly and his thumbs begin running circles over mine as a soft chuckle rumbles out of his chest.

“You adore me?” He lightly tongues the inside of his lip. “Well, I gotta say, that’s real fucking cute and sweet of you.” I roll my eyes.

“If you haven’t figured that out by now, mister, then I do think we need to find a CAT scan for you,” I answer a little under my breath, but I know he hears me. One of his hands lift off of mine to stroke my cheek, then tuck a strand that fell from my ponytail behind my ear. 

“Yeah, I don’t know many people who’d sit ‘n argue for, shit, two or three hours just to get a man another table, chair, and candles.” As returning crunching steps filter down to us both, Negan retracts his hands with hesitation, letting me step back from the bars. 

“No, I did that because it’s a basic human right. Same for the showers.” Just then, Gabriel comes down with two more comforters. “Gabriel, if the storm gets bad-” 

“Don’t leave him down here?”

“Yes. Please do what you have to to see he isn’t left here. It’s not right. And if I find out otherwise… Rick’s rage will be nothing compared to what mine will be like,” I promise the priest. 

“I know. I agree,” he answers as he hands the comforters through the bars to Negan. “The group is ready now. You should go join them.” I look to Negan, whose expression causes my heart to squeeze painfully. 

“Please remember what I said,” I murmur, wanting to touch him. God, what I wouldn’t give to hug him right now. Before I leave. You never know if you get to come back. 

“I will,” he answers in a raspy, low tone, his voice sounding thick. 

“Promise?” He nods. I feel my lips press into a line as my heart fights to stay, while my brain knows I need to go. The climb up the stairs feels like the longest staircase I’ve ever had to climb.

~~Four days later, returning to Alexandria~~

“God, when we get home, I’m sitting in front of a heater or a fireplace until I feel cooked,” I grumble from atop my horse, shivering. The storm may be over, but the cold has done nothing more than settle in further. Shadow nickers in agreement, though I’m not sure how she plans to find something like that to be in front of, too. I lightly pat her neck.

“Aghhh, if I have to hear you complain about the cold anymore until we’re home, I will personally see to it you sit outside on the cold ass concrete,” Michonne answers, rolling her eyes playfully. I throw her a filthy look. 

“Them’s fightin’ words, Michonne,” I warn sternly. She chuckles, shaking her head, sending her dreads shifting around her head. 

“We’ll tie her to one o’ the church pillars,” Daryl chimes in, carefully keeping his face from my view. “Won’t have to listen to her ass sit and whine about the concrete.” I shoot him a withering glare and flip him off, which he returns with a low laugh. 

“Like to see you try, Daryl. You forget I’m good with a tranq gun.” Everyone laughs at that, though some roll their eyes or shake their heads. He snorts and it sounds like he mutters, "Bet," under his breath.  

As the gates come into view, I can see two guards in attendance, Kyle and Laura. Then, I can somewhat hear them shouting, something like, “They’re here! Open the gates!” Which is exactly what they do as we approach, heaving snow out of our path as the carriage comes closer to the entrance. Rosita is waiting there, as is a few other residents whose names don’t form in my mind. As those of us on single horses climb off, a few of said unnamed residents come up and take them while Daryl, Rosita, and I round the carriage to get the excess weapons and supplies out to put away. 

I grunt as I heave up a stack of spears and poles and some more wire. “Heavy ass shit.” 

“Best be glad we don’t have you on building rotation or we’d never hear you shut your complainin',” Daryl says with a grunt of his own as he grabs a couple of big boxes. 

“Shut up, Dixon, before your bike has an accident,” I grumble as we head to the store houses, Rosita follows with some stacks of fabric and excess grain from Hilltop. 

“You touch her, you won’t have hands left to keep your prisoner in line.” 

“Oh, who’s gonna take em? You? I can run faster and you have more weak areas pal,” I point out with a dip of my head towards his lower half. He lets out a disgusted noise. 

“Oh, you gonna fight dirty then? Cheap shot.”

“Says the man who prefers headlocks.” We split up as I head to the armory and he heads to the food cabinet. “Don’t trip over anything, Daryl! Hate to think of what that pickle vinegar will do to your vest.” 

“Yeah, hope you do trip over somethin’ and save me a headache later.” We both laugh as we head into different buildings, cut off from each other. Scott’s currently in the armory, checking supplies from the looks of him with a clipboard in hand. 

"More spears?" 

"And gardening stuffs for when planting times come around again," I reply, shifting my arms so he can grab the spears. After he does, I head to the second room back from the armory where all the gardening supplies are placed. While setting everything down, Scott strikes up a conversation.

“You guys just got back, like, now right?”

“Yep.” 

“So you don’t know what happened?”

“No?” I reply, a little harsher than I mean to due to throwing poles up on a high shelf. “Nah, haven’t heard a thing, man. I came here straight away.”

“Well, we were moving to Aaron’s house because the other fireplace just about blew up (since only like two places has fireplaces and shit was freezing), and Dog had been loose earlier, so when he started barking Judith tore after him!” 

“She what?!” I nearly yell, causing several rows of chicken wire to fall down as the row I was adding crashes into them.

“Yeah! And Negan went running like a bat out of hell after her! She’s alright and he is mostly, but he did fuck his knee up- hey! Hey, where are you going?!” I barely pay Scott’s yells any mind as I haul ass out of the building and on to the medical ward. He had best be here or there will be hell to pay, I promise silently as I nearly bust the door down. I turn to see Michonne exiting out of one of the single rooms on the left. She gives me a concerned look. 

“Is something wrong?”

“I just- I heard what happened- where’s Negan?” I speak so fast my lungs hurt in an effort to give my words air they need. She nods to the room behind her as she nears me. 

“He’s in there; he’s alright, but he has to rest his knee for a few days-”

“And Judith?”

“Fine,” Siddiq answers before she can as he rounds from the main room. “She’ll be just fine. A little cold burn, but that’s it.” I nod, relieved, but… I still want to see Negan. 

“I’m going to speak to Negan, make sure everything went well with Gabriel.” Michonne gives me a knowing look, one I pointedly ignore as I enter his room and close the door behind me. I hear his intake of breath, and I turn to him. He’s on a bed with his usual long-sleeved button-up, trousers, and a white t-shirt, with one knee bent and propped up with a pillow. He gives you one of his little grins, the ones with just a touch of wickedness. I can see spots of cold burn on his face, especially his cheeks. 

Before I know what I’m doing, I’m right at his side, cupping his face with one hand while the other strokes his buzzcut hair and the back of his neck. “Well, shit-”

“Thank you.” He stops when I speak, his grin fading a little. “Thank you for saving her. Are you okay? What happened?” He leans into my touch, his eyes closing for a moment as I stroke his brow. 

“I’ll be fine, darlin’. She went after the dog, right into the goddamn storm. I went after her.”

“Only you?” He nods. I feel my lower lip tremble, so I try to stiffen it. And, with one last stroke down his neck, I climb right into his lap, my thighs straddling his on either side, my pelvis hovering over his. A cocky look starts to work its way onto his face and I can see he’s preparing to say something that definitely expresses his interest in such a position, but before he can, I wrap my arms around his shoulders, only pausing to shrug off my militial jacket into his lap. I pull myself tightly to him. 

It seems the action surprised him, as he goes silent for a moment other than a soft stutter in his breath, before one of his hands makes its way under my hair to my undercut while the other splays over my lower back, pressing me into his chest. His face buries into the side of my neck, and I cup the back of his head as he does so. I’ve hugged him a very scant few times over the years as we became closer, mostly when one of us really needed it, or when the lack of touch outside of our hands became too much. Always trying to be careful, so I wouldn’t be forced off of watching him. 

I rub in between his shoulders, working at the tension there, while at the same time lightly pressing my lips right above his ear. We stay like that for a few minutes, before he slowly pulls back, looking in my eyes. His are more green today, beautiful tealish green, with brown only being visible around the edges of his irises. I let my hand drift from his head to stroke his jaw as his moves from my hair to stroke my face. His eyes drop to my lips, then slowly wander back up. He’s asking for permission. I tilt my head, letting my lips open slightly, and I do the same motion with my eyes. He slowly leans in, till his lips are a hair from mine, keeping eye contact even with our eyes hooded.

And when I let mine slide close, his lips press against mine, sweetly, gently. His are a little chapped, and I imagine mine are too, from the damned cold. His hands cup my face, their warmth soaking into my still chilled skin and the calluses scraping in a way that sends a shiver through me. After a few moments, he pulls back, but only slightly, his lips still brushing mine. “Fuck, I was wondering what that’d be like.”

“So was I.” I sound as breathless as I feel, and without thinking about it, I press my lips back to his, pulling his face gently to mine. We share multiples of these softer kisses, always drawing back together near immediately after parting, before they start to deepen and last longer. His lips taste like the fruity pain reliever Siddiq has in his medicine cabinet, and God, they feel amazing against mine.

But, eventually, we do fully part, our breaths a little shaken and mixing between us. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes, one I remember vividly during our talks of everything happening, losing his control on everything, his wife. I give him a small smile, before hugging him again, pressing my cheek gently to his as to not irritate it. “Why, Ms. Grimes, I do think you are sweet on lil’ ol’ me.”

“Mmmmm, why, Negan, you reckon?” I reply with a sarcastic falsetto to his teasing, enjoying being able to feel his low laughter rumble into my chest. “And ‘lil’ nothing, you are about half a foot taller than me, mister.” I pull back, pursing my lips to the side as he gives me a big grin, but not his usual one; this one is more goofy, more playful. It makes my heart feel funny. 

“Shit, I guess I am a blind motherfucker after all, you been hittin’ on me this entire time?” he teases, his tongue tip messing with his lower lip. I try hard not to focus on it and instead roll my eyes as I climb off of him. He goes to protest, his hands lingering on my arms, then slide down to my hands when I’m on my feet. “Wait, where you goin’? You just got here.” 

“I am not going anywhere, but you need rest and no pressure on that knee, as it wouldn’t be propped up if it wasn’t needing rest.” I grab a chair and haul it to right beside his bedside, then take one of his hands. “I am your guard, after all. Gotta keep you safe.” I wink at him, unconsciously drawing my lip between my teeth.

“Uh huh. And that’s why you needed to climb into my lap, make my dick hard enough to hammer in a fuckin’ nail, and then have the balls to be all soft ‘n sweet.” He shakes his head in fake exasperation, trying to not show how his lips are fighting to smile. “Goddamn, I ain’t got a guard, I got a master fuckin’ torturer with my name at the top of her ‘make it as painful as you fuckin’ can, maybe even nostril slitting if necessary’ list. My luck is both higher than a stoner with a weed forest and shittier than a stall with fifteen horses.” 

All I can do is laugh so hard I wheeze at his commentary. I had not been expecting his little speech, and God, I laugh so hard my lungs and chest ache. From what I can see through the tears in my eyes and my squinting, he’s more than happy at my reaction as over the buzz in my ears I can hear a laugh from him too. “Negan- I- what-” 

“Yeah, got your master-fucking-plan down, didn’t I? Figured you all out.” 

“Oh yeah, buddy, you got it,” I let out a few remaining guffaws, raising my hands in the air. “Got me all figured out, I admit to my crimes.”

“You are a lucky ass that I got room in my cell for someone else,” he says with a sigh and a shake of his head.

“Oh? Where am I sleeping in there? Your cot isn’t big enough for two.” He gives me a wicked grin.

“I make a mean fuckin’ mattress in every  sense, if you catch my meanin’, darlin’.” 

I give Negan a shy smile as I pull him by the front of his shirt into my bedroom. He grins in response, his eyes dark. Something about the way he gazes at me the entire time causes my entire body to feel hot and needy for him. Only him. 

He closes the door behind him and locks it. He looks around the room for a fragment of a moment before his eyes are locked back onto me, the candle I left burning making their normally hazel color seem like dark pits. His tongue lightly traces over his bottom teeth as those dark pits look over me. “I had been thinkin’ I would have to drag you into a bedroom sweetheart, goddamn don’t you have some surprises up your sleeves.” I chuckle softly, leaning against his chest, my hands knotting into his grey t-shirt.

I shiver when one of his hands brush under my shirt along the curve of my spine. I lean into the other hand now cupping my cheek. “Well, I’ve only had, what… four years to build up the balls to do so,” I joke. My words cause the hungry, hot look spreading over his face to pause. It’s interesting to watch the emotions play across his features: from that dark hunger to thoughtfulness to softness he started to show around me about a year into being his daily guard. 

Seeing that softness war with his wanting for me… well, hot doesn’t really do it justice. His thumb runs along my lower lip, and in a warm whisper he murmurs, “Yeah, something like that.” I lightly kiss his thumb’s pad, the rough skin there pulling at my lips. 

“What’re you waiting for?” I ask him, trying to keep a playful, lighter tone in my voice while more deep and warring emotions make my chest tight. 

But emotions can wait. I’ve waited too long, far too long to be able to love him with my body and to feel his arms around me without anything to keep our bodies apart. 

He seems to think the same, as he almost has to force a smirk on as he tilts my chin up and moves to kiss me, but as my eyes slide shut in anticipation, his lips meet mine in an oh so gentle touch that leaves me more breathless than any passion could do. I melt into his touch as he gives me more of these soft kisses, slowly deepening into something more ardent and heated that causes my mind to spin. 

His hands run through my hair, over my skin, my hips, everywhere he can reach, and I reciprocate with the same growing need, feeling his scars and the flexing of his muscles. The image of his hips moving between mine and my hands splayed out over his tan back, feeling the strength packed into his lean form bringing our bodies together… It rips a moan from my throat, one he answers with a deep, rumbling groan in his chest. His kisses grow in their fever, ravaging my mouth at first, then my neck upper chest until I pull him back to my lips. 

When he fully pulls away, panting, I whimper and pout, and without even meaning to stomp I foot lightly. He laughs, a genuine laugh, joyful but with a raspiness that sends a wave of heat into my stomach, coiling like a spring, eager for more of his attention. “Impatient, are we?”

“Negan-” I let out a little squawk when he suddenly lifts me and tosses me lightly onto the bed. He grins down at me, moving my legs apart with my feet flat on the bed and knees bent, then places his hips in between them. 

“What? We had to get to the bed some fuckin’ time, shit.” He takes in how I look, pulling his lip lazily between his teeth and releasing it in a way that causes my blood to sear in my veins. “You can’t be the only one with surprises, darlin’, that’d be unfair as fuck.”

“Oh, so now you’re all about fairness?” I ask, my voice edged in exasperation. He nods and hums in agreement, before undoing my boots and removing my socks, massaging each of my feet in turn (with a little side eye and smirk each time), before slipping out of his own. 

“Oh, absolutely.” I sit up just as he shrugs off his jacket and sheds his t-shirt. My breathing sharpens at the sight of his lean chest being completely open to my gaze for once. My mouth watering in want, I lightly run my fingers over his scarred and tattooed skin, shivering when the curls of his chest hair tease my fingers. He hisses when my pinky grazes his nipple, and his hand whips out and grabs my wrist so fast I didn’t even see him move until it’s just there. 

Part of me had forgotten just how capable Negan can be. But his grip is gentle, not hurting. He leans in to me, his nose running along mine, his eyes hooded as are mine, our eyes peering into each other’s. It’s intimate, close, warm. He’s warm. His lips meet mine again, heated and wet, his beard scratching my skin in a way that sends chills all over my body. But, all too soon, he’s pulling away again, and… he somehow got my shirt unbuttoned in the time we were kissing. I hadn’t even realized he let go of my wrist. 

“That a talent of yours? Keeping someone so occupied with your mouth they don’t realize anything else happening?” I tease as he helps me slide out of my shirt before flinging it onto the floor. He chuckles darkly, biting his lip and leaning close.

“Oh, darlin’, you want me to show you everything my mouth can do to keep you busy?” he asks, his voice so low it’s almost a growl. The tone he uses makes my thighs try to squeeze together, but they only press against him more fully, causing his breathing to shudder for a moment. 

“I, um…” He tsks.

“That’s not an answer, baby girl,” he murmurs, one hand lightly brushing over my throat before cupping my chin. “And I do need an answer. Got to make sure you’re wantin’ this ‘n’ all.” The predatory gleam in his eyes makes my sex pulse more eagerly for him, demandingly, wanting what we’ve been missing out on all this time. 

“Yes,” I answer breathlessly, my mind beginning to fumble with words. He grins wickedly and easily undoes my bra and adds it to the growing clothes pile on the floor, then uses his body (especially his hips against mine) to move me further up the bed some. His lips meet mine for another scorching kiss, his tongue no longer teasing and patient, but demanding and his kiss is just as so. I can’t keep up with him, but before I can try to get myself on track to him, he’s moving on, leaving a trail of wet kisses and nips down my jaw, my neck, my collarbones. He gives a particularly sharp nip right on the bone, causing me to yelp and drawing a short chortle from him before his lips sooth the spot. 

I lay back down when he reaches my chest, wanting to enjoy his attention to my breasts. My hips jerk when he bites my nipples, then they grind against him when his motions become suckles, pulling whimpers and moans from me so easily. My hands play in his short hair, and one errant thought manages to pierce the heat clouding my mind: I’m so glad his hair is long enough for this again. 

But it leaves as his mouth moves further down, and it’s definitely gone when he undoes my gun belt and it crashes to the floor with a loud thunk!, and then my regular belt and pants. He bites my hip bone in the same moment he pulls my pants and underwear down in one motion. With my legs free of constraint, my feet hover around his shoulders, my eyes locked on him as my breaths come in pants. His eyes meet mine, and he holds my gaze as he lightly runs his beard over my inner thigh, the sensitive skin there coming alive under the scraping. I shiver with each brush, and his kisses nearly drive me insane.

“Negan, please,” I beg, my fingers knotting in my own hair. “Please, please, please, I can’t take it.” He sighs, but can’t hide his smile. One of his hands move from my thigh to cup my sex. 

“Mmm, that’s what I like to hear,” he replies, one of his fingers lightly pressing into my slit and rolling the small throbbing nub there slowly, causing my legs to shudder violently. “How close are you, sweetheart? Am I gonna just be gettin’ started and you fuckin’ tap out?”

“P-Probably,” I half whimper out as my hips try to press towards his hand. He watches my body arch and shake for a few moments, before his hand moves away is replaced with his mouth. He places my legs over his shoulders, then proceeds to thumb my slit open, and with a groan, his lips seal over my clit, working and rolling and suckling it wetly. My inner walls squeeze together as his mouth works, my back arching, my breathing sharp and fast. I mewl and whine and moan and struggle against him, unable to handle the intense pleasure but not wanting it completely gone, either. When I can’t stop squirming, his hands become like vices on my hips, keeping me still to him. 

“Aaagh, Negan, oh my God,” I whimper, and he answers with a dark chuckle, and as I edging close to the end, he slows for a few moments, but when I kick his back in frustration, he growls and keeps on, faster than previously, so much faster it takes only a few seconds for light to pop behind my eyes and my body both try to keep struggling and lock up at the same time. My ears deafen with a warm buzz. 

A few moments of intense pleasure pass, before I weakly push Negan’s head away. My legs and body go slack, a laugh bubbling out of my chest as my arms lazily flop onto the mattress and across my forehead. He lightly kisses my thigh before rising, placing my legs gently on the bed. I give him a lazy smile as he undoes his pants, letting them and his boxers hit the floor before climbing into bed with me finally. He easily lifts me and shifts how I’m laying so he can pull my side against his chest. “You look happier than a fuckless fuck on Free Fuck Day, sweetheart.” 

I snort, then gasp softly when his member presses against my hip stiffly. “Negan, what the hell does that mean?” 

“It means exactly what I said, shit,” he answers, acting offended. “Sweetheart, you not listenin’ to me?” I ghost my hand down his cheek, smiling when his lips press a soft kiss into its palm.

“I was, but even in all these years, I have not learned Neganese fully,” I answer ruefully with a dramatic sigh, nuzzling his shoulder. He huffs playfully, playing with my stomach. 

“A damn shame. A real fucking damn shame,” he says gravely, stuttering on the end when my hand lightly wraps around his member. He… hadn’t been lying, he is big. A flutter in my stomach and a spasm inside of me makes my breathing stutter too. He eases my hand away from him with a soft hiss, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it. “As much as that feels fucking amazing, I want to be inside of you far too fucking much to let you continue,” he says in such a gruff voice it gives away just how eager he is for that exact scenario. I flutter my lashes at him before turning on my side with my back to him, bending my leg to give him easier access. Then, I lay one of my arms along my side, playing with the skin of my hip. 

“Then let’s get going,” I purr, wiggling my butt against him. He groans so deeply it’s almost a growl and one of his hands cup my ass, squeezing softly. But he stills, his other hand tracing the scars, both aged in the years and some fresh, and the even fresher stitches on my back carefully with his other. 

“Will it hurt you if I do?”

“No.”

“You sure, darlin’? I don’t want to hurt you. Ever.” His breathing shudders as he says the last word, causing my heart to hurt. I reach back and cup his cheek, gently nudging his head forward so I can press my cheek against his. 

“I’m sure. Don’t think about it right now,” I murmur soothingly, pressing myself fully against him. His hand skates over my hip, up the length of my body, to cup my head and gently move it to where he can give me a gentle kiss that both melts me completely and causes my heart to clench. The other hand works its way under me and then lightly brushes my still sensitive clit, causing me to jump. 

“Will you lead me in?” he breathes against my lips, a ghost of a grin steadily slanting across his lips. I nod and lift my bent leg, then wrap my hand around his throbbing part. He grunts and his hips jerk, but he lets me move him to where its head lightly presses inside of me, and with a slow thrust, he begins to fill me, leaving us both to sigh and gasp against each other’s lips.

My hand leaves to knot in his hair. A rush of nervousness fills me at the thought that maybe he’d realize my inexperience by this, but if he does, he doesn’t mention it. And while there is some pain, it’s nothing like what people always said it would be.

He doesn’t get rough, he stays easy and slow, holding me against him the entire time, leading me to a slow-rising but intense second orgasm, and then his own finish on the sheets. After, he gently holds me to his chest, his hands holding me by my shoulders and hips. Careful to avoid the marks left in my flesh. Holding me like some precious, fragile treasure. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, Negan… It was amazing,” I answer honestly, nuzzling his chest. “I was worried it’d be more painful, but… it wasn’t. I only felt it for a little bit, and while I’m kinda sore… it’s not bad at all.” He lightly kisses the top of my head.

“I noticed when you tensed; I was worried as shit that you were wanting me to back off, but you didn’t say anything and kept pullin’ me in you. I’m glad you enjoyed it, sweetheart. First times shouldn’t be fucked up.”

You shift the gun slung over your shoulder some, the strap beginning to bite through your clothes and into the skin underneath. A bird call and the crickets cut through the sticky night air, your only companion on your shift as Kyle is currently running late. He best have a damn good reason for running so late, you think to yourself, and a scene of Michonne finding out his absence. 

You wince at the acidic tone in your rendition of her voice. Kyle may as well move out before the sun is up if he wants to live. 

Shhhhffff.

You head snaps to a sound out beyond the gate, like something moving in the darkness. You hold your night vision binoculars to your eyes, scanning the darkness. It takes a moment, but all you find is a single walker further down the road, shuffling through the leaf matter. You relax and drop the binoculars back to your chest. You watch the wind blow through the trees, scattering more leaves to the ground. Imagine having to rake leaves with how many trees are around here. The thought pops in your mind, a thought you hadn’t had in a while. Normal things.

But you are drawn away from that rabbit hole of thought by a creak from the ladder leading to your post. It takes you only the fraction of a second to have the gun aimed down the platform’s hole, right in the face of… “Jesus, Negan, you nearly got yourself shot. Make some noise, will you?” you grumble, releasing the gun with a shake of your head, letting to fall back to your side. He lets out a deep chuckle, and this time you can hear him climbing the individual rungs on the ladder. He groans as he pulls himself up onto the platform to stand next to you. 

“I wasn’t exactly quiet as a little mouse on my over.” He raises a brow, a grin on his face. “I’ll see if I can snag a goddamn airhorn or something soon to make you feel better.” You snort.

“Oh, please do. I will claim innocence when you wake everyone up and have that kind of hell raining down on you.” He exaggerates a wince, a hand coming up to cover his heart through his denim shirt. 

“Ow! Hot as hell but a fuckin’ cutthroat.” Then, he winks. “Good thing I’m into that kind of thing, huh?” 

“Hey,” you begin, waggling a finger at him, “you better be into it if I’m into older men.” You force down a smile. “Very old men.” His brows furrow into a less than amused look.

“I’m not that fucking old, you make it out like I’m a damn grandfather or something.” 

“I mean… you’re old enough to be one.” He snorts. “Not mine, but maybe Judith’s.” 

“Oh, thank you, I feel so much better, let’s go pick some damn flowers and you can continue to tell me how fuckin’ old I am.” This time you laugh at the ruffled tone in his voice and him crossing his arms. With a very small but still very much a shit-eating grin, you manage to part his arm from his chest enough to wrap both of your arms around it and to peer up at him from under your lashes. 

“Aww, you poor, poor baby. What can I do to make you feel better?” you croon, taking distinct pleasure in winding him up. He looks down at you with both brows raised and a ‘you really want to ask that’ expression.

“For all I’ve suffered tonight I’m expecting high amounts of ‘I’m sorry Negan, I may call you a fuckin’ grandpa but I still think you’re very hot and fuckable’s at the goddamn least.” You tease him by humming thoughtfully, as if you need to consider his request. 

“I guess I can at least tell you that once. Maybe twice. More than that, though,” you suck air in through your teeth, “it’ll be a bit of a problem. But, maybe,” you lightly trace one finger down his inner forearm as you draw the word out, “if you’re up when my shift is over, we can talk about more ways to make up all my teasing.” This time he hums thoughtfully, his arms falling back to his sides, but the one your arms are wrapped around lightly ghosts its fingertips over your hip.

“Mmmm,” his chest rumbles near your ear, another chuckle but darker this time, “what time’s your shift over?”

“Six A.M. About time you’ll be having to leave to work.” 

“Oh, hell yes. Alright.” He pulls away from you, a cheeky smile on his lips, revealing some of his straight teeth. “I’m holdin’ you to this, so you better not be late.” 

“I’ll try to not be… if you give me a kiss before you leave.” You pull your lip between your teeth, drawing his attention to your lips. His smile turns far more wicked, and you eagerly lean into his touch when one of his hands’ fingertips run from your jaw up into your hair and the other splays over your lower back, pulling you to him. Your lips meet his hungrily, nibbles and nips to both your lips and his, then you letting his tongue slip between your lips to meet yours. 

At some point you moan, and the very low growl he emits causes your chest to vibrate. Part of your mind revels in how soft his hair is against your fingers. Your kisses eventually slow to your lips meeting, molding together, then pulling apart in several long, slower kisses, before you both finally part completely, his hands lingering where they were and yours spread over his chest. a smirk plays over his lips. “Well, shit, now I just don’t know if I want to go at all.”